Part Five - Survival of the Fittest
The Desert Rises
Without magic to sooth his pain. Harry stayed put, slept some more, hovering between the pain the brought him his consciousness and the exhaustion that pulled him into sleep.
When Harry felt his skin burning he woke up again. He yawned and groaned and stretched his legs to loosen his cramped muscles.
He was feeling good. Not top notch but good enough to let a broad grin light up his face as he stood up and basked in the glorious sight of an endless, treacherous desert.
Magic was coming back to him slowly but it wasn't enough for him to use. He could feel its seed slowly sprouting in the void with new feelings and strength.
"I am reborn," Harry whispered.
A gust of wind blew at his back and hot particles of sand struck against skin. His robes were torn, he realised.
He peered into the skeleton city and inspired by the size of the ruins half buried in the sand. He began to walk towards it. It looked probably three kilometres away from him. He was feeling hungry and thirsty and maybe there was something to be found in one of the many metal reinforced structures that had managed to keep some of their original shape and form.
His stomach groaned for sustenance and Harry grimaced. His magic was in no shape to be used right now. He had to survive the old fashioned way for some time.
Walking in soft sinking sand was a lot harder than Harry remembered it being and by the time he had reached the ruins and was within arm length of the first structure with an intact roof reality began to distort all around him.
Harry gasped.
It was the labyrinth.
He quickly tried to touch some part of the building knowing how the magic operated but it was too late, his step forward took to a new location and to his annoyance there was nothing but desert around him.
It seemed he didn't have control over the spell anymore. He was as much a survivor as anyone else in the desert that was slowly revealing all its surprises.
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"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
And then there was the other.
"The decision will be made when fire streaks across the sky. Two paths will lay before him… one leading to salvation … the other… devastation. His decision will be made when fire streaks across the sky…. Salvation …. Devastation …. His decision will…"
Nothing made sense anymore to Albus Dumbledore. Everything had turned to dust. The eon length perception of the way the world worked had been brutally stripped leaving behind a human race naked and confronting an idea that terrified them to their very core – they were going to die.
Albus stood tall on one of the large dunes in the desert and looked for survivors with the sun at its brightest point in the sky. He looked behind him and his hard eyes softened when he saw the sad faces huddled under his conjured tent, passing along the soup he had made after summoning ingredients from the first ruins he had come across.
There was nothing beyond surviving in a hellish desert that distorted reality for a precious few seconds that many spent hoping they were going to wake up from the nightmare in the warm and soft beds only to find themselves lost again, not knowing where they were, and what was the way out.
Everyone was tied together with a long string that Dumbledore had conjured. It was the only way they could be together after every distortion.
Dumbledore was collecting survivors and helping them gain strength and purpose of finding a way out.
There was no village or town around. It was vast empty space in all directions and Dumbledore realized he was going to have to wait for the next distortion. He hoped it would be a once inhabited place. He was running low on supplies and there was no means to find any unless they ran into another group. He couldn't apparate as well because the desert had no terrain. Its form was constantly changing thereby rendering apparating to a familiar place inert. He couldn't apparate to Hogwarts. He couldn't apparate to any place that had a memorable image in his mind. He didn't know if the entire world was overtaken by the curse or if he was trapped within a limited boundary.
He could not escape.
"Excuse me. Mr Dumbledore sir?"
It was one of the ladies. She was fairly aged, having faded black hair and wrinkles around her brown eyes. She looked defeated and lost.
"Please call me Albus, Patricia."
"How long until the next distortion?" she asked tiredly.
Albus had counted fifteen sunsets so far. And in those days and nights he had experienced seven distortions. Visited three villages. And found twenty-five survivors.
He had realised by the third distortion that the desert didn't alter randomly after a set interval of time. It was an invisible maze they were trapped in that travelled through time and space into an alternate pocket of reality within the framework of its boundaries. He recognized the design of the magic. It was based on the ward he had used to trap Harry within the boundaries of Sirius's cottage.
The boy had used his design to create something even more devastatingly dangerous. A labyrinth existed throughout an endless conjured desert.
The magic was incredible. He had never seen anything like it in all his years. It made the strongest spell he knew seem like childs play and he would have been in awe of what Harry had done if not for the bodies he kept coming across all over the desert. So far he had found and burnt fifty-seven bodies.
The survivors with him insisted on paying their respects to the dead.
"Another kilometre I think," Dumbledore replied with a sigh. "We should move soon. We don't want to be caught walking at night."
Patricia shivered. She wanted to be sheltered under a roof when night came. She was a muggle and the first time she had encountered a vampire was the first night after the calamity – that was what the muggles had begun to call it because that's what it was. They didn't understand it. They met wizards and witches who tried to make them understand but even the witches and wizards didn't understand it. All they understood was something or someone had decided to curse their existence and banish them into a realm where the temperatures soared to above fifty degrees Celsius and dropped into negative when the moon arose. Not to mention the desert tricked their eyes and never let them stick to a path.
During the peak of the tremendous power that Harry had unleashed, everything had become blindingly bright and when the spots in his eyes returned and the powerful magic receded, Dumbledore found himself standing in a village that was half in ruins and looked like a desert storm had overrun it.
He didn't understand what had happened.
The sun was setting bewildered people where making their way to the nearest trees that were still standing but half buried in sand hills.
Dumbledore did what he did best and took charge of the six people who were present in a now abandoned village and saved them from a vampire attack at night. He had lost two that night.
But one bittersweet thing about the whole situation was the final piece of the puzzle that was Harry had finally been revealed to him.
Harry Potter was a sociopath whose magic had warped into nihilism because of his past. What a way for the real Harry Potter to finally show his true self. He rued the fact that all the clues needed lay before him and he had been unable to put them together until the was all over. The second prophecy had come true. Harry had brought about devastation with blinding efficiency.
"Shall we move friends?" he asked with a feeble smile. "It's only a kilometre to the next distortion and if we're lucky we might get to scavenge a town. Maybe even what used to be London."
No one said a word. They just silently began to pack up, cover their faces with dark clothes and began to walk behind Dumbledore.
They had lost the will to live.
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Harry was so parched with thirst that by the time he stumbled across what looked like a fortress that was partly crumbled he sighed in relief.
He had gone through two distortions and the enormous power that surged through the desert at that time was beginning to rejuvenate his magical strength. He was nowhere near being able to used runes to summon water and he could feel a constant drain inside him. He had not been able to connect with that magical stream and he had a suspicious he was somehow still connected to the magic that had created the desert.
He had ideas and deductions but everything paled in comparison to the unquenchable thirst.
The sun was setting and he was glad to have found a structure that looked to be quite intimidating if reconstructed in the mind's eye.
Harry stumbled through broken walls and barbed wire and into what looked like the administration building.
The entire structure looked like the makings of a factory. What kind he had no idea.
He almost laughed in relief when he found the deserted pantry and bottled water cartons and stacked shelf's of canned food.
Harry tore open the boxes and attempted to drown himself in water to quench his thirst.
Finally he felt like he could take a breath and process the results of his deal with magic.
He opened one of the cans labelled bacon and scarfed down the entire contents in seconds.
The sun had set. The cold winds began to rise and rattle against the sealed glass windows of the pantry.
Harry just lay there still and quiet. Thinking and waiting. Waiting for his magic to return to useable levels.
Suddenly he heard shouts and the roar of an engine. Harry quickly went to the window and saw a jeep roll over the sand with a strained grind in its voice and there were five men screaming and hooting.
Harry narrowed his eyes and slowly backed away from the window. He quickly picked up a few bottles and cans and stuffed them into his robes and held them carefully.
He was going to watch these people for now. He wanted to see what path they had taken to survive.
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Daphne had found Sirius when sand the ministry began to crumble to dust and the sky began to turn white. Harry's godfather had tried taking her to safety and had run, pulling her along and the next thing they knew they were stumbling in what used to be the streets of Diagon Alley.
By the time the adjusted to the fact that the world had suddenly turned into a freaking desert and their panic subsided they realised they were in what used to be Diagon Alley because of the large dome shaped structure that was called Gringotts.
They weren't the only ones around. There were hundreds of people all around. Thousands even. Muggles and Wizards both.
It was them, an endless desert, dusk, and the stronghold of Goblins the only building around.
It wasn't long before everyone realised that if they wanted food or water, they had to find shelter. And the only form of shelter in sight was Gringotts bank.
Knocking didn't help. Banging the doors that had reappeared in place of the waterfall didn't help. Destructive spells didn't help.
Sirius sensed the growing rage and desperation and wisely led Daphne as far away from the Gringotts as possible.
"What the fuck is going on Sirius?" she shouted over the rising volume of people surrounding the goblin bank. "What in Merlin's name has happened?!" "Why are we in a fucking desert!"
They were running in the opposite direction and it was difficult against the flow of men and women who had got caught in the rise of mass hysteria.
"Let's just find safety first girl!" Sirius shouted back and held on to her hand with a firm grip. If he let go she would fall and be stamped to death.
"Expulso!" Sirius shouted as the crowd began crushing around him and Daphne. People were banished away from their path and they ran as fast as they could in the soft sand. Suddenly the vision distorted and they were running in water. They were in the shores of a sea.
Daphne squealed at the sudden exposure to cold salty water and looked around wildly for the shoreline and hurried out of the sea. Sirius followed and collapsed on the beach.
The sun had set and a half moon was out. Before him lay a sea and behind him a scarce few trees and a rising desert.
Daphne sat beside him and tried to catch her breath. It took her sometime but she managed it in the end and asked Sirius her question again. This time there was an audible tone of fear of the unknown. "What happened Sirius?" she whispered with a shiver as the night winds rose from the sea.
Sirius looked at her with grim eyes. "Harry happened," he said simply and turned away to stare over the sea.
Daphne gaped but didn't further question Sirius. She recognised the look in his eyes. It was defeat. She frowned and let her mind turn, looking for answers.
This was all an illusion. It had to be. Maybe it was one of the Dark Lords mind tricks. He had been famous for them in the first war.
"We need to find Harry," she decided.
Sirius snorted.
"Harry's a monster. If you know what good for you, you'll avoid him and stay away from him if you ever come across him again.
"All this is his doing. I know it. The little fucker is a complete psychopath. His birth itself was a curse. I tried to love him. I really did. But look what it brought me. The death of all my friends and banishment to an obsession of my goddamn godson."
Daphne stared at Sirius wide-eyed.
Sirius dropped his head in his drawn up legs and sighed.
"Harry has been fighting a war ever since he was born," Sirius continued more softly. "I think he just won and no one saw it coming."
There was silence between the pair for something.
"So what do we do now?" Daphne asked in a small voice.
Sirius's eyes hardened. "We survive."