The Good Race

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, all related characters, locations, and events, are owned by Warner Brothers, J.K. Rowling, and multiple parties. No infringement is intended, nor should it be expected. Fair use only.

Mini-Series: The Good Race: Introduction

1999 - Abandoned Shack

Harry's eyes snapped open in the darkness, a twinge in the back of his mind alerting him to danger. His heart pounds as he lurches from the matted bed, long abandoned by its original owners unknown years ago. The dream, no…the nightmare, he had been having washed away with the real fear that filled him to the very core as his well-laid wards are torn asunder. The strength behind the attack tells him that the race is over, that only one man could possibly have broken through. The scuffed and scratched wand clutched in his hand shakes, even as he twitches it once, twice, three times, a small twirl at the end. He grunts an unheard word even as the door to the shack explodes open.

The first robed figure through the door is sliced to ribbons, a net of blue light tearing him to shreds, even as the second robed figure blocks a flash of red light that would have burned his eyes from his skull. A flash of green light dodged, a volley of bright purple orbs returned, even as another figure shoulders his way into the room. Two on one has never been fair odds as far as Harry is concerned, a flick of his wand shattering the back wall into sharp shards of wood that flash through the air to slice into his attackers. He tears his eyes away, spinning, smacking away a nearly invisible ball of energy that had flashed from the darkened woods behind him.

With the same motion, he twists his wand, the ground between the shack and the wall of trees cracking open, sending a wall of dirt into the air as a makeshift wall. The wand in his hand nearly crackles with power as he pushes, yanking it back towards the shack. Silent magic was hard, but intent magic even more so. There were no words for the spell Harry needed, but that had never stopped him before. The effort he put into this spell would have killed anyone made of lesser stuff, but he was Harry Fucking Potter, and his will was stronger than most.

'Down!' His mind screamed, pushing his intentions through his magic, as it took effect, a trickle of blood drips from his nose.

With a loud crack, the shack was smashed flat in a shower of wooden splinters, crushing three people, injuring several more, as though a massive foot had slammed down onto it. Twirling in place, his wand alight with a sparkling glow, the splinters, and wood chunks are snagged from the air, forming into a torrent that he sends streaming into the woods all around. A section of them slams into an unseen wall, burning to ashes, as a robed figure steps through.

"Harry…Harry…Harry…" Came a sibilant hiss from the darkness.

The tall man steps from the shadows, his skin pale under the moonlight. His pale red eyes seem to gleam, filled with malicious mirth, a joke that only he could find funny. His long wand is held lightly between two fingers, the end still glowing with its last curse.

"No jokes, Harry? Nothing to...say?" He asked, a light smile reaching his lips. "Ah, that's right...It's good to see that you've learned to survive even without your tongue."

Harry snarled, his wand sparking in the darkness surrounding them. His tongue, long since ripped from his mouth, had been a disability even he had struggled to overcome.

"There is no one here to die for you this time, Harry. No one to step forward and take a curse meant for you…" The man asked, his laugh mirrored by an unknown number of people in the woods around them. "Drop the wand, and for you…I will make it quick. I respect you...Harry. The final man standing between me...and the world."

Harry's arm snaps up, a flash of black ethereal light leaping from his wand to smash into his enemy, even as a line of bright white slices his arm off at the elbow. No stranger to pain, the white-hot lance of pain from his missing arm simply angers him, his left hand snatching his wand from mid-air, snapping back into position to block a putrid yellow curse from inverting his skin. A flick and it's gone, replaced with two motes of blue light that spark as though filled with electricity. Voldemort had not been idle after shielding against the black curse, slashing his wand across his chest, a thunderclap of energy emanating outward in a circle.

With a twitch, the energy encircles the bleeding flesh of his arm, spinning, as it sizzles and burns. A silent scream as it boils over the bleeding flash, before snarling as he releases another silent curse. On and on, back and forth, slowly whittling each other away. As each time before, Harry slowly lost ground, dodged a little slower, released hexes and curses at a rate that just didn't stack up. Even after all these years, he still wasn't good enough, yet he felt he couldn't have expected any different.

'DAMN IT!' He thought, as another curse just barely missed his foe.

With a final slash of his wand, a curse breaks through, Harry is knocked back, landing hard on his side. Before he can even move, his left hand is gone, dissolved in a flash of blue-green energy, his wand burning away with it. He lays there as footsteps slowly make their way to him, before the tall pale figure stands over him. Voldemort has several cuts and burns, a few glancing blows that had managed to make it through.

"Take solace, Harry…despite my efforts you will be remembered. Not as The-Boy-Who-Lived, a title earned with the sacrifice of your parents…but as the only person to truly challenge me. The only person that defied me, and lived to tell the tale… What was it that you once said, so many years ago? 'That we two are in a race against time, and I've gotten the head start?' ...You ran a good race Harry Potter" He says, as many, many robed figures leave the woods around them, circling.

Voldemort looks around, studying the figures, before at last looking down once more.

"But it ends here and now, Harry, a thousand kilometers from the finish line," Voldemort says, staring down into Harry's eyes, as though searching for something.

"Avada Kedavra."

July 31st, 1991

Even as the door crashed open, sending the Dursley's scrambling, and a familiar giant of a man stepped through, Harry Potter couldn't help but smile. Voldemort had said that the race was done, that Harry Potter had lost.

"I-I'm Harry Potter." He said, introducing himself to one of his first friends, the words jumbled after years of not speaking.

But Harry Potter doesn't lose. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it whatever you'd like. In the end…This race has only just begun.

A/N: So, this is a thing. First, please review. I don't write much for Harry Potter, so feedback would be very useful to me!

This is the first part of a mini-series that I wrote as part of the one-shots I have on my profile. I'm making some changes, adding a bit here and there, and fleshing it out into more than just a series of small one shots..

Please be warned! There are alot of details absent, and alot will need to be imagined by you. Feel free to insert your own imagination wherever you feel it's necessary. Time travel is weird, and the chapters are not sequential. If you have a question, don't hesitate to ask. I'm expecting a total of 7 chapters, of which 5 are already written. I'll probably post one per week, as I make changes and edits.