An abstract of Aura.

Red – Power, Security, Jealousy.

Orange – Pleasure, Appreciation, Comfort.

Yellow – Status, Authority.

Green – Love, Compassion.

Blue – Knowledge, Influence.

Violet – Clairvoyance, Unification.

White - The Source

Mulling things Over

No one had the patience to speak the language of magic anymore.

They only wanted it translated for them and communicated to others without bothering to understand what was being said.

They need to learn. How will we teach them? Will they remember what survival of the fittest means?

Strange dreams began to take shape in his mind. Images of the past. The desert. Solitude. Magic. The struggle to survive. It all began to warp and create an idea that was once not yet clear to Harry. It was now.

The solution was quite simple. A reboot was needed with the right parameters at its core. All that remained was fitting the final pieces of the puzzle in the right spaces.

He woke up, his body rested, and his mind eager to continue the journey whose end was as clear as the crack of dawn.

He left the tent and soaked in the cool breeze aglow in the light of dawn as he headed down to the artificial pool by the beach.

He sat on the soft, cool sand and admired the horizon. It was his first time relaxing on a beach.

Harry spent some time letting his mind go idle and just soaked in the light of dawn and the sound of the sea until he felt his stomach growl. He summoned a couple of fish and cooked it medium rare with an absent-minded thought before nibbling it to the bone.

Hunger satisfied, and sustenance met, he finally turned his attention to the spaces where his arm and eye used to be, the spaces he had been ignoring until now.

Their loss did hurt. However, he knew with magic at his command, they could be brought back. The dilemma he was wrestling with was, should he? They were his sacrifices to the Source. The Source; which was far uglier and alien than he could have ever imagined. Emptiness, death and terror. Emotions that fed on the far end of the negative spectrum. And yet, in the midst of it, he had found Light. A Mother and unconditional Love.

It had made a deep impact on his psyche. It had changed him. He now saw the world through a different filter. A film that showed him the end clear as midday. He had to complete his spell. It was his creation and thus his responsibility. But he also felt like it was important for the race of humans to believe they had a choice and thus emerged the idea of the Game. A race to the finish. An End that required a Beginning. A beginning that hinged on Karma.

He rubbed the bandaged stump of his arm and sighed.

While that was his ideal solution, mathematically speaking, a new desire had risen within him. A selfish one. He had seen the places that existed between the folds of space and time. Was he naive enough to think this was it? His mind was enlightened, and the irony was, now he understood how small he was and that thought opened a whole can of perspectives.

The desire to use the enchantment for a way into a new dimension tickled his curiosity. The books in Gatekeeper's library had spoken about a variety of fascinating ones. One, in particular, had captured his imagination.

He lay back on the sand and looked up at the sky, at the runes that still chaotically raced across from horizon to horizon. He had seen the sheer scale of its power when he had met his mother.

"Do what you think is right, Harry," she had said.

Right at this moment, using the runes to open up a wormhole to a new galaxy of challenges seemed quite exciting. The estimation of the collateral made his green wince in concern, but the idea… the possibilities… they were taking root deep in his orange. He needed his diary to measure the fall out of activating such magic. There was so much to explore… to understand Gaia. Was it possible to join that stream of white light and materialise in another one of its oceans?

It almost felt like his humanity was now limiting him. It was creating invisible rules that forced him to consider the alternatives. Alternatives to paths without bloodshed.

He sighed and sat back up, awkwardly using one hand, dusting the sand off his newly conjured pant and shirt; a shirt whose one sleeve just flapped in the wind. The sun was getting high and the winds began to turn from gentle to scarring. He walked over to the artificial pond and looked at his reflection.

It wasn't someone he recognised anymore. He had grown a lot. He washed his face and pushed his hair back. It was long, and he felt the need to trim it down. Had Jenna mentioned if they had a barber around?

He remembered her request and mused now was as good a time as any to check out their research station. She had mentioned it was close to the beach, so he scanned both ends until an odd dome-shaped building stuck out further down the beach, away from the settlement.

He teleported and materialised before the igloo-like building. It was well constructed, and the use of strong enchantments was clear. The door was locked. It was still early after all.

"Oh, well," he muttered, unlocked it with a flick of his finger and stepped inside.

It was much bigger on the inside. Jenna's comment about bigger on the inside suddenly made sense.

Inside, the walls looked like they were iron sheets bolted into the earth and painted white. The walls were high and stretched into the dark corners of the room. All Harry could see at the moment was the scale of the room thanks to the dim light hanging above the inside of the doorway.

He looked around for a switch of some kind but found none, so he conjured a ball of warm light.

It was just a big empty room that seemed to be built like a bunker.

Harry frowned. Maybe this wasn't the research station after all.

"Who's there?!" a young voice called out sharply and Harry turned around, startled, ready to blast the intruder to oblivion.

When he saw it was the young wandmaker, Oliver, he immediately controlled his attack impulse. "Harry Potter," he answered clearly.

"Oh," Oliver said, surprised. Then he looked up and said, "Lights."

To Harry's surprise, lines of white lights began to flicker on across the ceiling and the bunker began to morph into a structured room with partition walls. Equipment flickered into existence until it was Oliver and him standing in what seemed to be a well-lit and well-stocked pantry, complete with a sitting area.

Oliver grinned. So, the monster was capable of being impressed.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked, folding his arms.

Harry pondered for a moment and then, he said, "I'm looking for a barber."

For a moment Oliver stared at him nonplussed. He then looked at Harry's mess of a head and rolled his eyes. "Follow me."

Elysium, Time Unknown

The first thing Daphne had done was track down Draco in a gambling den within the cave network. The Goblin Carts were still in use and it seemed people knew who Draco was, so it wasn't difficult tracking him down.

They found him in vault one zero nine a few floors underground rolling in sweat and fire whiskey, in a circle of dirty men and women screaming around a mock wrestling ring, watching two beaten and bruised goblins fighting in honour of death.

Daphne and Hermione wrinkled their noses at the foul smell of the vault. There were dead goblins stacked up in the far corner and a few more chained up beside them, waiting emotionlessly for their turn to entertain and die.

Galleons, Sickles and Knuts were being thrown at the goblins with no remorse and a scarred man was floating above the ring keeping a tally of the bets being made with an ugly grin of sadistic amusement.

"Merlin," Hermione gasped in disgust.

Daphne just frowned and kept her wand close and ready. "Let's wait," she muttered to Hermione and gestured at her to follow. Draco seemed quite into the game, shouting and jumping animatedly with the grace of a three-legged hippogriff.

A few men sitting on the floor with drinks and cigarettes looked at them with surprise, their clean clothes made them stand out, but after a quick perverted leer and grin, they turned back to their drinks and ignored them.

Hermione discreetly drew the rune for muffling sound with her wand and instantly the high-pitched screams turned to muffled loud noises.

"Thanks," Daphne said with a sigh. She added the notice me charm as an added measure wandlessly.

If there was one lesson Daphne learnt from Harry, it was - There were no limits when it came to harnessing magic. In the words of the Mahoutokoro - All that matter was the intent. And being out, in the desert again, reminded her of her own. She was going to stand toe to toe, as an equal against Harry and after that, she had no idea what was meant to happen. Her curiosity to know it drove her magic down fascinating roads. Wandless magic being one of them.

The crowd was beginning to disperse and the two realised it was over and they dropped their spells and moved to intercept a downcast Draco. His Goblin had lost and so were his knuts.

"Hey, Draco!" Daphne shouted.

Draco turned towards them, startled, and upon seeing them, his expression soured as they closed the distance between them.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a scowl. Mentally throwing all the blame on their presence for him losing the game.

"How about we step outside where we can talk," Hermione said. She was beginning to get uncomfortably creeped out by all the leers and stares they were getting.

"And why would I do that?" Draco asked stubbornly.

Daphne closed her fingers slowly and Draco, with alarm, felt an invisible force begin to crush his balls.

"Hey! Stop! I know a place!" he squeaked.

Daphne smiled sweetly while Hermione frowned, not knowing what had happened.

"Lead the way," Daphne said.

Draco sighed. "Looks like the desert has taught you some tricks," he muttered as he led them out and back up the tunnels to the upper levels.

"And you've certainly fallen from grace," Daphne returned.

Draco shrugged. "I've learnt there are more important things in life."

Hermione and Daphne exchanged a glance. Draco certainly had changed drastically from the bigoted prince he had thought himself to be.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until they came to another converted vault. This time it was a quiet pub serving ale.

"Grab a table," Draco said, gesturing vaguely towards the bunch of wooden chairs and tables strewn haphazardly around, as he walked up to the tiny counter behind which a thin older gentleman was serving jugs and burnt meat.

Daphne chose the one with decent lighting around and gathered a few chairs around a table.

They sat and waited until Draco came back, levitating three mugs and a pitcher of ale.

"Well," he said after pouring the glasses to the frothing brim. "I guess you want to know how Gringotts became Elysium."

"Let's start there," Daphne agreed. She lifted the mug and sniffed at the foam and then with a curious look she took a sip.

"Not bad," she said.

Draco laughed. "After I left Hogwarts, I immediately fell through a distortion and landed up in the middle of a war between the Rebellion and the Goblins. To put it simply, the Goblins had almost won until Tom and Flitwick turned up to save the day. Suffice to say we won and the Rebellion and Tom brokered an agreement between them to create a haven for us magical."

Hermione frowned. "That's it?"

"Well, sure, there was a lot of starvation, grovelling, getting beaten up, resigned to death and whatnot along the way, but I'm still here."

Daphne pondered over his words and wondered where to start. "When you say Tom," she began slowly.

"I mean the dark lord who resigned from his role of being a dark lord." He chuckled. "Turns out he's a pretty decent guy with interesting ideas who has a cool sadistic side to him."

"Given up on blood purity, has he?" Hermione said, her tone stoic.

"Not many of us left to worry about blood anymore. All that matters is magic and how best to use it to survive. The Rebellion, Moody, basically agreed to join forces with Tom provided Gringotts was a place where we could live safely and peacefully under a system of simple rules. Anyone who breaks the rules is kicked out into the wastelands."

"So, they rule from high above in pools of wealth, do they?" Daphne asked. The picture of the magical skyscraper was seared into her mind.

"Who knows," Draco said with a shrug. "I don't give a fuck."

"The Dark Lord..."

"Tom," Draco corrected. "He's not too fond of being called a dark lord anymore."

"Tom," Daphne said, emphasising the name with a roll of her eyes, "Even if he pretends to be reformed, he can't have forgiven Potter for destroying his world."

Draco chuckled. "If there's anything that unites everyone in this Elysium, it's hate for Harry Potter and the desire to kill him slowly and painfully. It's either that or torture until he lifts the curse.

"Now, I've given out enough free information. The next round is going to cost you in galleons."

"You must be joking," Daphne scoffed. "Considering the way you live, a few sickles should make you happy. It's either that or we walk."

Draco scowled. He did need the sickles. He had enough information to bleed them out, so he sat back and gestured at the bartender for another round.

"First you answer one of my questions," he said.

"Was it you? Were you the one to kill my father in the courtroom?"

Daphne went still. The memories were clear in her mind. "Yes," she replied without emotion. "And I was the one who blew up your house as well."

Draco recoiled in shock. For a moment he was filled with rigid rage and then he let it all go with a resigned sigh.

"Didn't know you had it in you," he said. "Did you feel good doing it?"

Daphne leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "It was better than sex."

"I always knew you had a cold heart," he said with a chuckle. "I can see why you fell for Potter."

"Enough," Hermione interjected. They were not here to trade barbs and insults. "Malfoy, we're looking for Harry and we need any information you have about him."

"Why don't you join Moody and Tom? They're at the head of that campaign."

Daphne dropped a sickle next to his mug. "That's not a route we're keen on taking Draco. That's why we're paying you. Now, is there any news about him?"

"You know about Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Of course," Daphne replied.

"Then you know, the only one who got close to him and survived was..."

"Bellatrix Black," Hermione breathed with wide eyes. "She's here?"

Draco whistled and wolfed down some freshly burnt beef.

Daphne dropped another sickle and he still kept quiet until she brought out a galleon.

"Bellatrix has an unusual taste. She likes unnatural places."

"And where is this unnatural place?" Daphne asked.

"The Elysium may be meant only for magicals but there are those who still see profit in the wastelands. They still have ties and live in defiance of the rule of segregation of magicals from non-magicals. Some things don't change I guess."

"So, what?"

"Bellatrix turned up a few weeks ago raving about an encounter with Potter in some place called Avalon. She swore she was going to teach him how to beg. She's got an odd fixation on him, even turned down Tom's invitation to join them," he said with a shudder.

"Where is she?"

"If you want to find her, you're going to have to look in the wastelands. I'd suggest starting at the sleaziest bar you can find."

"Avalon," Hermione muttered. "I've read about it in the book of Merlin. It's a legendary place whose existence has never been proven."

"And if we want to know where he went from there, we'd have to talk to Bellatrix," Daphne summarised.

"Or you could talk to Tom. She told him everything she knows. What I know is what the grapevine knows. And if I were you, I'd stay as far away as possible from the psycho. She's a fucking paedophile."

Daphne had already made up her mind.

"How much to lead the way?" she asked.