"Well my God, just what the hell am I supposed to do?

So I ran off and ran on to something, that I swore was everything but beautiful

I only say that word for you."—Manchester Orchestra

Come now.

With those final words the voices subsided, and Harry was left hanging out the window, the cold breeze pressing against him. A sudden image flashed in his mind, and he could distinctly see tall, straight columns of a coliseum rising up in the night sky. It was a place where he was meant to go, and the image had embedded on him the exact knowledge of how to get there.

Not that knowing where it was made it easy to access. Just as he knew where he must go, he also knew that he would have to be tested to prove his will to get there. He would be challenged and that irritated him, but he also logically knew it was not time to fight with that which he could not change.

He closed the window and retrieved the shirt that Anna had given him, deciding that the black was fitting for the overall somber essence of the occasion. His old clothes were nearly dry so he carefully packed them in his bag, slung it over his shoulder and was about to go tell Ron where he was headed when he stopped. He knew that Ron could not come with him any further, but he also realized that Ron might not understand that. As Harry stood there, considering Ron's fierce loyalty he suddenly felt a bit lighter and less alone.

He found a quill and ink pot in his chambers, and jotted Ron a quick note on a piece of parchment.

Ron-

I know where I need to go now. I am sorry to leave you here so abruptly, but where I am headed I must go alone. Use the floo network here in the castle so you won't be delayed in getting back to Hermione. Tell her to hold on, I am doing what I must and it will all be over soon.

Thank-you for coming all this way with me.

-Harry

He left the note where he knew Ron would find it and then he took one last look around the room where he was staying, mounted his broomstick, and flew off into the night air. He felt a cold rush of exhilaration as he ascended to the stars, and wondered if flying would hold the same joy for him after this was all over with. It had always brought him peace, a sense of balance and satisfaction. Somehow, flying had felt natural to him from the day he had caught Neville Longbottom's remembrall. He sailed up into the clouds where the moon's light was even more brilliant and he tried to relax as he traveled.

He tried to fixate his mind not on the struggle ahead, but on how worth it it would all be to have her with him again. That set his mind nearly to a sort of tranquility as he flew. Life had never been easy for him. How could he expect it to be any different now?

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She woke up in a confused blur of panic. The room was so dark and instead of feeling fiery hot as she had the past couple days, she now felt terrifyingly cold. She felt as if her bones themselves had turned to ice and she trembled heavily under the thin sheets of her bed. She could hardly see, it was so very dark around her, and she wondered if it was night time or if it was her vision fading. She tried to focus on the blue light hovering above her, but it was growing dim now. Her time was running short.

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Harry touched down in a grassy field just as the sun was rising. His heart told him this is where he must land, even though there was nothing to indicate that this was a place different than any other. He began to walk then, watching as the colors of the sun slowly changed the sky. He could tell it would be a beautiful day, and that seemed strange but he was glad it wasn't raining this time.

The grass was tall and brushed against his legs as he made his way to the edge of the field, wand drawn. Slowly he approached a thick forest, and as he stepped into the trees he was plunged into darkness. Lumos he whispered.

As he walked he was set on edge by the pervasive silence that seemed to close in on him. Never had he felt quite so alone, even as a little boy locked in a broom closet. It was almost a desperate feeling of loneliness and it made him want to turn away, but he pushed on. Usually in times of danger he had Ron or Hermione, or both by his side. Now it was just him, and for the first time self-doubt filled him. He wouldn't have survived half of their adventures without his friends, what made this any different?

He took a long calming breath, and tried to push these negative thoughts from his mind. Still they lingered like a stinging wound as he made his way further into the darkness. He wished suddenly, that he had kept the Elder Wand. He had gotten rid of it because he didn't want to be corrupted by it's power. Yet now he was about to be given more power than any single person should have the right to control. Life was unrelenting.

From the darkness a massive shadow rose up behind the trees. The light of his wand was weak, but as he drew closer he realized he was looking at the mouth of a massive cave. So it is literally an underground underworldhe thought. He wondered if the entrance always changed, and he would bet that it did. The entrance to the Underworld was probably never the same twice, and it would probably close up as soon as he entered. That would be why the old man couldn't tell him where to go.

He held his wand high as he peered into the gaping mouth of the cave. He carefully studied the entrance, preparing his nerves for what might come ahead. The last cave he had been in was the terrible horocrux experience with Dumbledore. He doubted this would be any more pleasant. He noticed that the same symbol Anna had shown him was carved into the front of the cave, and there could be no doubt he was meant to go inside.

He walked quickly into the darkness, keeping the light low to make sure he did not trip or fall. Inside was somehow even quieter than the forest he had just left, the sort of silence that seemed to press in on him and make his ears hurt. He could only hear the steady sound of his feet hitting the stone below, and the rapid beating of his heart. He suddenly found himself humming the Hogwarts school song lightly to break apart the silence, and it echoed eerily through the vast cave. He wondered how high the ceilings were, but he decided it was best not to look.

Eventually he could tell that the ground was sloping downwards, and he was descending. He remembered once having read the story of Orpheus who had traveled to the underworld to save his love from Hades. He had always envisioned the entrance to the underworld being much like this one, and he felt something of a similarity to the tale as he went further and further into the ground, feeling the pressure change ring in his ears and a damp cold wash over him.

The cavern was becoming increasingly narrow, he could tell by the reduced echo of his humming and he could sense the walls growing closer to him. Small puddles had begun to accumulate on the ground, and he could feel chilling water sink through his shoes.

As he turned the corner he drew back quickly. He had nearly stepped into a large pit of snakes, their coiled bodies writhing over each other on the cavern floor. They reared up suddenly, altered to his presence and hissed angrily, showing their gleaming teeth through the dark. There must be hundreds of them, possibly thousands he realized in dismay.

"Kill the intruder" they hissed in unison.

"Don't kill me" Harry ordered, boldly finding his voice.

The snakes continued to slither towards him, but he held him ground bravely. His hand trembled only slightly as the closest of the reptiles stopped within an arm's length of his legs.

"Don't kill me" he ordered again. "I have been invited here. I bring an important gift."

"You can hear us?" they questioned, rearing up once more but this time not in attack. Harry might have said they actually looked curious.

"Yes, I am a parseltongue" Harry explained, trying not the shudder at the sight of so many snakes surrounding him.

"We have never heard this term. The only humans we have ever spoken to are the Gods. We will let you on your way."

"Thanks" Harry said lamely, and walked through the narrow path they allowed him, their coiled bodies flanking him on either side. As he crossed through the sea of fanged creatures he could not help himself but suddenly smirk. I bet that the so-called Gods did not count on this. Snakes are not much of challenge for a parseltongue.

As he continued his descent, he hoped that the rest of the challenges would be so simple. But he highly doubted it.

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For the first time in days Hermione had been awake for a sustained amount of time. And this worried her, because it meant the stability charm was finally losing the fight. She could feel the weakness in her body, and now she was receiving shooting pains that would have made her cry out if she could find the energy. She had opened the locket Harry had given her for Christmas, and through her fading vision she could barely see it, she could make out the images of her parents sleeping peacefully. She missed them, and yet she was also glad that they would not feel the pain of her loss.

Although it was still very early morning, someone entered the medical ward. She could hear the heavy doors swing open and footsteps approach her. She wished with every fiber of her being that it would be Harry's face to greet her when the curtains parted, but even in her weakened state she knew the sound of his footsteps. He always walked at a brisk pace, his movements almost graceful as he had always been sure footed and balanced. It was not Harry coming to see her.

Ginny Weasley looked shocked to see Hermione awake. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here, I needed badly to take a shower and I fell asleep for just..." she had reached out to touch Hermione's hand but quickly retracted it as if having been burned. "My God! You're freezing!"

She quickly ran to gather blankets from the trunk at the foot of the hospital bed. She covered her friend quickly, and Hermione could feel the Ginny was shaking. The younger girl was terribly scared, and Hermione wished she wasn't subjecting Ginny to such a difficult situation. She vaguely heard her say, "I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey" and then everything faded to complete blackness.

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As Harry walked he suddenly seemed to be entering a bank of fog, which seemed peculiar since he was so far underground. It thickened as he moved forward and despite the light it grew so dense that he had no idea of what was in front of him or around him. He held his arms out to guide the way, feeling blindly in the grey nothingness.

Under his feet the puddles were growing thicker until they were up past his ankles and fully filling his shoes. When the water was up to his knees he decided he might need to remove his shoes entirely as they were getting heavy and slowing him down. The fog was so thick that he realized he could not even see his own feet, so the struggle of removing his shoes and socks was a bit frustrating, and when it was finally done he shoved them hastily into his bag and continued on, the cold water even more shocking now that the soles of his feet were touching the frigid rock beneath.

As he continued on the water level rose to his waist, and it was at that point that he had a dreadful feeling that he would have to swim. It wasn't that he wasn't a decent swimmer, but more so the fact that he could not see where he was going. Could he end up swimming until exhaustion dragged him under only to never reach a shore?

He had the sudden idea that perhaps he could fly. He pulled his Firebolt from the bag and mounted it, but to his great dismay it did not lift him in the air as usual, but simply floated atop the water like a useless piece of limber. He smashed his fist angrily through the fog and returned the broom to his bag. He wondered if the passageways were enchanted against flying.

"WHAT'S THE POINT!" he shouted to nobody, and his voice echoed loudly back through the fog. He realized that wherever he was now, it was a very large cavern.

With a few more steps that water was at his chest, and so he began to swim. The cold water spilled over his head and he felt suddenly awake. He tried to swim as straight as possible, hoping that this was simply an underwater pond he was crossing. His clothes and the bag dangling from him slowed down his process, and at first he dealt with it, but then he realized that he was sinking. And so without any other option he dropped the bag and all its contents down into the water, trying to remember that they were simply possessions and nothing more.

Able to move more freely he was able to take nice even strokes, but before long his heart was hammering with exhaustion against his ribs. He couldn't help but think about the times he had heard how difficult it is to swim in a straight line, how those crossing the British Channel needed to follow a boat from going crooked, and he felt a slight swelling of panic. What if he was going the wrong way? Hell, what if he was going in circles?

As he had these thoughts he suddenly grew heavier, and her found his arm muscles screaming as he attempted to pull himself forward. He had become so heavy he wasn't sure if he was actually making any forward progress, or if he was just flailing to stay afloat. Exhausted he flipped to his back, and despite this new position he could barely stay afloat, taking huge, dragging breaths of air in as he tread water. Slowly he regained some energy, and damned if he didn't feel lighter.

As he swam on he suddenly felt something brush his leg against his pants. Is there something in the water? He thought frantically, thinking of grindylows. But this time he had neither gillyweed to stay under and fight, nor light to see his attackers. The idea of their long fingers wrapping around his legs gave him a jolt, and he swam faster. Ever worse was the thought of the creatures he had seen in the water with Dumbledore.

As his heart grew frantic at these thoughts he found himself growing much heavier again, and he tried to stay afloat, but between the exhaustion of his arms and the burning of his lungs he was losing the battle, and slowly he sank into the pitch black water. He felt the air go from his lungs in large bubbles that rose from his body to the surface, and further and further down he went.

He felt his heart grow heavy, like a rock bringing him to the bottom of his watery grave. So this is how it ends he thought, his body convulsing for need of oxygen. After all I've been through; I will die in a water filled cavern where nobody will ever find my remains.

And there was nothing positive he could possibly think about any of that. He could feel ripping pain now, as his lungs screamed for air, but he wasn't quite ready to let his mouth open and the water rush in. He knew he only had moments left to live, and he wanted to think of something happy. Something positive. He imagined Hermione, and the realization he had failed her did not help ease his transition into death. He wondered if he would see her in the afterlife. He was still scared to die. Scared because he was tormented over everything he had yet to experience, all the adventures and love life had promised him and then ripped away.

And with these final thoughts, he suddenly felt anger. Anger that he could not have his goal, anger that he could not keep her. Just one person. I just wanted to keep one person I loved. And he realized that the trembling in his body wasn't the need for air, it was complete rage. Suddenly, as though a weight had been lifted from him, he began to rise rapidly up to the surface where he shot up into the air once more.

He choked for breath, treading in the water with a renewed energy. He realized that it had been his doubt that kept weighing him done. If he was ever going to reach the other side, it would be with resolve. After he had regained his breath he returned to his swim, taking long steady strokes.

Eventually he felt his fingertips gently graze stone, and he realized it was now shallow enough to stand. As he rose dripping to his feet the heavy fog parted and much to his relief he was only 10 meters from the shore, a faint glowing light guiding his way. He half ran from the water, and fell heavily on the rocks, never so thankful for the ability to breathe freely. He conjured a spell to dry his clothes and then resumed his way barefooted towards the light, clutching his wand with grim determination.

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Hermione was vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey moving around her. She could somewhat feel the steady grasp of Ginny's hand on her own. But only barely. Mostly she was in a whole other dimension of pain and disorientation. The coldness in her body seemed to have irradiated from her bones with a sensation of frosty burning out of her skin. Is it possible to feel pain in each organ individually? She wondered, but whether it was mental or physical feel it she could, as if frost bite was growing across her heart and lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe. She had felt the cruciatus curse, but this was worse in many ways. It was slower and more deliberate. It played with her head and made her relive terrible events once more. And she knew she hadn't completely subsided into it yet. Only a few more hours and the full effects would undoubtedly drive her insane. She would be like Neville's parents, only the pain would never stop for her.

"I need to fetch someone from St. Mungos" she heard, and the voice echoed in a strange way against her waking nightmares. Leaving her parents. Being tortured. Watching Hagrid carry Harry's body.

"I'll watch her" said Ginny's voice as Hermione watched her own smiling face disappear from her parents' memory.

"Try your best to keep her warm" came the distant reply as Hermione saw Bellatrix Lestrange's laughing face float before her eyes.

Hermione felt Ginny's hand leave hers as the girl softly muttered warming spells, but Hermione could not feel their effect. She could only see Harry's body in Hagrid's arms. Limp. Lifeless. Pale. She could feel hope drain from her.

"Stay strong" she heard Ginny beckon from far away. "You are the strongest witch I know. Harry will be here soon. I just know it."

Hermione felt a strong shock of pain course through her body, a convulsion like being crushed. Harry's already dead.

As Harry walked he knew there was likely to be one final challenge. Wizards seemed to greatly prefer things to come in sets of threes. It was obnoxious but true.

As he turned the corner, he was greatly surprised to have stepped onto a hill side. Somehow he was outside again, but it was perplexing because he had undoubtedly been traveling deeper underground the entire time. Furthermore, wherever he was it was nighttime. Still, there he was standing in thick, cool grass, and far above were magnificent stars, more than he had ever seen before. A warm gentle breeze seemed to invite him to walk on, and as he did he approached the edge of a cliff. Far below he could see the coliseum he had been given a vision of. It looked small from where he stood, but he could make out the marble columns and the orange light of flickering torches.

He had made it.

He turned to walk from the cliff's edge to find a way down, and came face to face with a heartbreaking familiar set of eyes. Green like his own, filled with both sorrow and beauty. He reached out a trembling hand, but it went right through her.

"Mom?" he whispered.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"This isn't... this isn't the real afterlife. I've seen it."

"Oh Harry" she sighed sadly. "Would you really do this to us? We've been waiting for you." And just as she said this, his father appeared behind her, his hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Son, this isn't the right path for you. We've been waiting to be rejoined with you for so long. Would you make us wait for thousands of years?"

"What will be left of our souls by then?" asked another familiar voice. Sirius had appeared.

"Harry, I told you once that death is but the next great adventure. Why would you go through such lengths to avoid what is only natural? Tom Riddle did the same you know" said Dumbledore, who watched Harry with his doleful blue eyes.

Harry felt tears silently trickling down his cheek. He had seen these ghosts before, and the pull to stay with them had been so magnetic, so comforting. Some part of him knew death was not a thing to be feared, but another part of him knew it hadn't been his time. "If I don't do this, I will lose her" Harry said through trembling lips, wishing he could feel the comfort of his mother's embrace or the security of his father's hand on his shoulder.

"You already have" said a small voice, and the ghosts parted to reveal the one ghost he could not stand to see. She stood there dressed in the same gown she had to the winter ball. She looked just as beautiful as she had that night, her brown eyes fixed only on him. But now she was translucent, a thinned version of her former brilliance, a watered down image hovering there, untouchable.

"You were too late Harry" Hermione whispered to him.