A/N: I would like to sincerely apologize to the people that were actually liking this story. Shit happened and I was irresponsible enough to not organize myself properly, so the delay was entirely my fault. Again, I apologize. Will try not to let it happen again.

Seeing as I've already taken this space to talk, I would like to remind anyone interested that this story is also available on AO3. I would actually recommend reading there, seeing as I am less limited in the formatting. It's nothing fancy, at all, but you might prefer it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of it's properties are owned by one J. k. Rowling. I am just using her property to torture my OC.

Chapter 18 - Ixnay on the autoplay

There is an endless expanse before my eyes.

In all directions, there was only the sky, the sea, and the point where they met.

"Hehe!"

His hands unlatched the pod from his chest and brought it to his face.

Lou smiled at him from inside.

He smiled back.

Harry picked the thick envelope up, heart beating a mile a minute.

No one had ever written to him. Who would? No one cared for him.

He had never even received a note for not returning books to the library.

And yet there was a letter in his hands, bold green letters proclaiming his name.

Mr. H. Potter

The cupboard under the stairs

4 private drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

A rasping laugh escaped him, quickly turning into painful coughs.

"You're too smart for me, sister!" His body sagged back into the seat,

shoulders slouching with weight. "I guess I…"

Soulful eyes, shining like the glass to his aching heart, turned to the woman.

"Im afraid."

Harry touched Quirrel's face, watching as the skin burned and shriveled,

turning into ash. The man stepped back, fear and pain in his voice and face.

The pain in his forehead was agonizing. His vision slowly turned darker,

Quirrel agonizing was the last thing he saw.

"NO! No, NO!" The little girl's voice echoed strangely with her shouts

as she desperately fought for the man to let her go. He didn't.

His other hand slowly reached the girl, and touched her head.

The world was filled with white light.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good!"

The pudding splattered on the floor, food and ceramic covering the floor,

parts of the wall, and the guest. Dobby vanished with the sound of a cracking whip.

"C'mon." She leaned forward, offering a soft hand to help him get up. He took it.

"We have to finish building the raft!" She shouted to the sea enthusiastically,

a blinding smile still on her face as she dragged him

through their still intertwined hands.

How he wished he had never let go.

There was a searing pain on his arm that only intensified

as the Basilisk keeled over, thrashing on the floor before it stood still.

Only then Harry saw the fang buried deep in his forearm.

As if waiting for that moment the pain multiplied tenfold, the boy falling

to his bottom as he pried the fang with weakening fingers.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," Riddle intoned maliciously,

evil dripping from the arrogant smirk on his face. "And I'll sit here and watch you go."

"Thank you, mister hunter. I love you, almost as much as mum and dad!"

The white ribbon soaked in red burned his hand, but he could not let go,

nor avert his eyes, forced to gaze upon the trophy of his failure.

What was the use in his blade, if it didn't cut down enough enemies?

What good was he, if he couldn't even save the innocent from

the madness of this forsaken city.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" Vernon bellowed, face red

and pants tattered at the bottom. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

Rage overtook Harry, as he kicked his trunk open,

grabbed his wand and pointed it at Vernon, all in a moment.

"She deserved it." Harry spat through his fast breathing.

"She deserved what she got. You keep away from me!"

He fumbled for the latch on the door for a moment, throwing it open in another.

"I'm going." Harry was already turned away,

shouting to the wind as much as to his uncle. "I've had enough!"

Both warriors stopped, one hunched with lack of strength,

another with a lack of will. Both exhausted.

They kept gazing at one another,

unable to tear their gaze away from the mirror in front of them.

A chilling cold swept over the room. Harry felt his breath stop in his lungs.

The cold seeped into his skin. Into his bones. Into his heart.

Harry's eyes rolled up into his skull. He couldn't see. All he felt was cold.

He was drowning, suffocating in it. There was a ringing in his ears,

growing louder the deeper he fell.

There was a scream, far away. A shriek of pure terror and pain,

as chilling as the biting cold. He wanted to help, he moved his arms,

but nothing happened.

There was white fog surrounding him, thick and swirling inside him-

"I'm sorry. I'll be faster next time." He repeated his broken mantra with dead eyes.

He didn't know who he asked for forgiveness anymore.

His partner smiled, even as the red leaked from her hair to join her blood on the floor,

white, soft tresses being left behind.

"It's okay." Her voice was weak and fading fast.

Her hand lovingly caressed his face, and he grabbed it in a soft grip.

"-Miss Granger, you know the law - you know what is at stake...

You - must - not - be - seen." Dumbledore intoned, voice low and clear.

""Five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" Harry asked Hermione as they were locked inside.

"Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to-"

He was interrupted by the girl throwing a chain around his neck,

and fumbling with what seemed like an hourglass, turning it three times.

His confusion was forgotten as the world melted around him,

colors and shapes blurring and flying past him. He could feelt his mouth open,

but no sound came out, no matter how much he tried to scream-

He walked through the bridge, feet dragging.

The sun sparkled on the still waters, the softest of clouds in the canvas of the sky.

It was truly beautiful.

"Come on!" he mumbled anxiously. "Where are you? Dad, come on -"

But no one came. Harry looked at the circle of dementors, dread pooling in his gut.

One of the foul beings pulled its hood back.

It was time for the rescuer - but no one was coming-

Understanding hit him like a train, and he jumped to his feet.

He hadn't seen his father. He'd seen himself-

Harry pulled out his wand, posture straight and confident.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

He kept walking, feet sinking deeper and deeper with each step. He kept walking.

He stopped in the circle of light, harsh winds creating a snowstorm.

Death stood in front, unmoving.

The weight was heavy in his arms.

Harry rushed out of the tent, Ron hot on his heels, only to freeze up.

A group of wizards marched in formation, their wands pointed skywards.

They laughed and jeered at the four figures held aloft by their magic,

their bodies twisting in stomach churning shapes as the victims screamed in utter pain.

"That's sick." He heard Ron mumble beside him,

followed by the sounds of him holding back from throwing up.

How tragic, that their last words were to be the same.

Did he also feel the pain that would crush his chest at any moment?

Did he feel determination to protect those he loved,

burning through his veins, just like he did at this very moment?

"Walk tall, my friends…"

He sat frozen in his seat, part of him aware of the entirety of

the great hall turning their attention to him. He did not react. He was numb.

"I didn't put my name in." Disbelief clouded his words as he turned to his friends.

Their blank faces were like knives to his chest.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, finally breaking out of her reverie,

pushing him out of his seat.

Harry walked to the chamber, mind and body numb and what felt like

the eyes of the world weighing down his back.

"For the… both of… us" It hurt to talk, but it hurt even more

thinking of leaving his friend alone.

"You're… gonna…" Somehow, there was strength left in him.

A shaky arm brought his sword closer; The heavy, heavy, blade,

and offered it to the man.

"Live."

Harry stepped through the entrance of the tent on legs that felt

more like marshmallows than flesh and bone.

It was like he was seeing the world through a tv screen;

Too colorful and too dull all at once, with a strange static flitting about.

Hundreds upon hundreds of faces stared down into the arena,

waiting for his first move.

The dragon, the terrifying beast, stood unmoving at the center.

Impossibly tall and wide, bony protrusions throughout its whole body.

His addled mind wondered how it could fly with all that weight.

Then he wondered how he would survive this.

"Are you really sure about this?"

The smear in front spoke, the words muddled.

A slow blink, the world got darker. "I don't really have a choice."

He coughed and wheezed, the pain somehow doubling as he spoke.

"If this is what showing mercy is going to cost me…" But it wouldn't stop him.

It never could. "... I'm gonna have to learn to pay the price."

Laughter came from the crowd that pointed out how stupid he looked,

walking leisurely with heavy clothes into the lake,

no magic around him whatsoever.

But he couldn't focus on them. The water was bitingly cold,

wracking his body with shivers.

It was a battle to force his body to go deeper and deeper.

Then, quite suddenly, breath stopped coming to his lungs.

No matter how much he tried, all he achieved was to make his panic worse.

His legs lost strength as he fell face first into the cold lake.

He could breathe again.

"... I wish there was another way." The prince spoke haltingly,

life still seeping from his stomach in red.

"It's okay." The man said, stepping forward with sure and cautious steps.

He drew his sword with a fluid motion, falling into a stance burned into his muscles.

The cauldron simmered and bubbled, sparks flying from inside.

Its heat was immense, shining so bright the darkness around it became thicker,

impossible to see through.

'It's gone wrong… It drowned,' Harry thought to himself repeatedly,

watching the bubbling stop to be replaced by a wall of steam, 'Let it be dead.'

But then, through the fog, he saw the dark and thin outline of a man,

slowly rising to it's full height. Pure icy terror seemed to claw up inside of him as if accompanying the man's movement.

"Robe me." Came the voice of the… thing.

High and raspy, it felt like it slithered into his ears.

"What was the point… of me surviving this hell?"

He choked the question out to the heavens,

gaze locked on the mountain of dead he stood upon.

Rain kept pouring down, the blazing inferno around him standing unaffected.

All it served for was to mask the tears that fell from his eyes as he watched the boy be rescued by a man with a smile that was the only good thing he had left in the world.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Thin silver mist burst from his wand, only serving to slow the dementor.

Thin, scabbed hands appeared from within shadowy robes,

outstretched as if to strangle him. Harry tripped as he went backwards.

"Expecto Patronum!"

It was hard to hear himself, his voice dim and distant.

The wisp of smoke that came from his magic was even more pathetic this time.

He had to concentrate, had to think of something happy.

He couldn't die, not here, not now-

Shrill, high-pitched laughter in his mind drowned his panic, the putrid smell emanating from the thing assaulting his nose at the same time. Cold hands held his neck weakly, but there was no strength left in him to fight to freedom.

The high laughter became a cruel voice in his brain. "Bow to death, Harry. . . .

It might even be painless. . . . I would not know. . . . I have never died. . . ."

He would never again see Ron and Hermione-

His eyes opened forcefully as their faces burst through the fog of his mind.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The harsh light continued to pull at him, pulling everything that he was,

intent on extinguishing him.

But he could not let it. He wouldnot let it!

He stumbled and fell and forced his feet to remain anchored to the stone beneath,

his eyes never wavering from the figure that seemed so far away.

He was close enough to the light now that it burned his back.

He could not remember who he was.

He could not remember why this was happening to him.

But he could remember the woman waiting for him.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"

Madam Bones's voice carried through the room with enough force

to drag his gaze from the ground.

He could see more than half of the people present with hands in the air.

He did not pay attention to the rest, such was the sheer relief that flooded him.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said briskly.

Harry turned to see the man vanishing the summoned chairs lazily.

"Well, I must be getting along. Good day to you all."

With speed belying his age,

Dumbledore turned on his heel and left the dark dungeon,

eyes not once acknowledging Harry.

Harry felt all his elation leave him.

The woman raised her head, beautiful green eyes sparkling like gems.

Her smile was kind, like it always was. It never failed to melt his heart,

no matter how frozen it had become.

He could not stop the smile that came to his lips,

small but genuine like the few he could remember coming from him.

In the blink of an eye, the water became red,

stained with the blood seeping from the wound on her chest from

the blade stabbing through it.

Harry dragged his gaze to Umbridge, mind working a mile per second.

Her dark eyes filled with malice stared right back, accompanied by a small,

cruel smile on her toad-like mouth.

"Yes?"

"Nothing." Harry muttered through gritted teeth.

He forced himself back to his task, writing the lines.

Over and over.

Again and again.

The pain became worse and his anger grew alongside it as he slowly realized he used

his own blood to write the despicable words.

"Even with those we have lost, the world relentlessly continues to turn…"

Said his pompous companion, words as sophisticated as usual.

But it was impossible to hide the weariness that permeated it.

When he looked at his friend, it almost seemed like he hung heavier, somehow.

He knew he looked exactly the same.

He dreamed he was in the D.A. room,

Cho throwing chocolate frog cards into the air and demanding his firebolt.

Harry awkwardly lied, saying how Umbridge had confiscated his prized possession,

all the while a voice told him to give the broom to the girl.

In a moment the dream changed,

his body feeling smooth as he glided across a cold floor.

The corridor he was in seemed empty,

but he somehow knew there was a person ahead.

He approached to see a man, head limp to the side as he slept,

part of his legs invisible. The man suddenly stirred, eyes blinking drowsily.

Harry felt his body lunge, teeth digging into the man's body.

His forehead burned painfully.

"Harry! HARRY!"

The grieving man took a moment to compose himself. "I'm glad you were with him."

He said, voice thick with emotion, one hand extended.

He shook the man's hand with his own weak one.

The man's gaze fell back to the ring in his hands, unshed tears clinging to his eyes.

He turned and walked away.

"So," Harry hesitated in continuing,

the sheer despair inside him doing its best to smother all will from him,

"so does that mean that . . . that one of us has got to kill the other one . . . in the end?"

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted gravely, eyes downcast.

For a long moment, silence reigned,

broken only by the distant voices coming from the school.

Students going down to breakfast, maybe. He wondered, how it was,

that they could still desire food, still laugh. Still live.

All unaware or uncaring that Sirius Black was gone, never to return.

All because of his mistake.

Harry could almost imagine him, waiting for him on the other side of the veil,

laugh like a bark as he found mirth in the worst joke possible.

Everyone was crying. Wailing loudly with despair and pain in their souls.

He could not stop his own tears. Not when he could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces at the sounds of the people he loved losing themselves.

"It hurts so much!

"I don't wanna die!"

"Why, does it have to be so…"

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," The portly man spewed hotly,

angry and annoyed and afraid. All emotions Harry was intimately familiar with.

The man snuck a furtive glance his way,

watery eyes roaming his figure and stopping at the scar on his forehead.

Harry bore it unflinchingly.

"You look very like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told," Harry answered curtly.

"Except for your eyes. You've got —"

"My mother's eyes, yeah." This exact conversation had happened so many times

that it had lost its charm long ago.

But the loss he felt as he thought of his parents never diminished.

"No, it just feels like I was having a reallylong dream."

But he could not remember a single thing.

He raised his head when the girl called him,

the worry present in her eyes confusing him more.

"Why are you crying?"

"I knew I was different," Riddle whispered into his trembling hands,

eyes that seemed to glow peeking through his fingers.

"I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore gravely, no longer smiling.

His eyes had lost it's ever present mirth as they stared intently at the young boy,

"You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head, and Harry held back a gasp.

His face was changed; wild happiness morphing his features into a rough,

bestial smile.

"But I can't go back." Disbelief tingled the words as he watched with wide,

wavering eyes as the spirit ignored him after stating what seemed like

a simple fact from his perspective.

"Don't know that you got a choice, son." The man finally looked back at him,

eyes cutting deep into his soul. One finger came up to the dirty acrylic separating them, using the dirt as his canvas.

"No man can walk out on his own story."

"Severus . . ."

The voice chilled Harry to his bones,

far more terrifying than anything else he had witnessed this day.

For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading.

Snape walked forwards silently, pushing Draco back roughly.

The other death eaters followed the boy without a sound,

even the werewolf seemed cowed.

Snape gazed at Dumbledore blankly. His expression contorted agonizingly slowly,

the hatred shining deep in his eyes transforming the man.

"Severus . . . please . . ." Came Dumbledore's weak plea.

Snape raised his wand, pointing it at Dumbledore's heart.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"People die, there's no stopping that," His whisper sounded hollow, just like he felt.

"So I wanted them to at least have a proper death."

"But…" His voice wavered as the numbness surrounding him vanished.

He could feel all the pain in his heart as he gripped the railing hard enough to bend it.

"What even is a proper death?"

"They'll be here in about five minutes." Harry said to no response from the Dursleys.

Silence stretched for a long moment before he stood up, going to his room.

It was a sweet thought. The idea of parting - forever - from his relatives

brought cheer to his soul.

But it felt like empty joy when surrounded by the circumstances.

Harry entered his room, wondering if he should have said something more.

But which words would fit between a hatred lasting sixteen years?

"You can still do the right thing here."The woman said assuringly,

opening her arms wide, the gun in her hand pointing away from him.

"She won't feel anything."

Her eyes pleaded for him to do the right thing,

her words laced with conviction that she could sway him.

He hesitated for a moment, mind whirling with doubt.

But he still pulled the trigger.

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione shouted through her sobs as she and

Harry were pushed and pulled by the panicked guests.

Harry gripped her hand hard, pulling her from the paths of multiple spells.

It would all be beautiful - all the light flying through the room - if it wasn't so deadly.

Ron appeared, one hand clamping down on Hermione's free arm,

and they were suddenly spinning in place, sound vanishing and darkness encroaching.

Time and space warped around them, and Harry felt a moment of relief,

knowing they would be away from all the death.

Guilt speared through his gut as his feet touched solid ground again.

'It hurts…It hurts…It hurts'

It was all his mind could think, the agony spearing through every nerve of his body

forcing him to focus only on his pain, and nothing else.

He sobbed and wailed loudly, his tears and voice evaporating in the roaring flames.

'I want to die…'

"Leave the Horcrux," Harry spat out.

Ron pulled the chain off of his neck, throwing it away from himself with disregard.

His furious eyes turned to Hermione. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying or what?"

"I . . . " Her face was full of anguish. "Yes-yes, I'm staying, Ron,

we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help- "

"I get it. You choose him."

"Ron, no-please-come back, come back!"

Harry stood motionless and silent, watching his friends leave the tent.

He listened to the harsh sound of Ron disapparating.

Listened as Hermione sobbed and screamed Ron's name in the quiet forest.

Listened and watched as she curled up on a chair and cried herself to sleep.

His body fell heavy on the bench,

the harsh light of the overhead lamp irritating his eyes.

With mechanical motions he fished a hand inside his bag, pulling out the popsicle and crunching it with his sharp teeth.

Curiosity made him bring the stick in front of his face to read the word carved into the wood.

Winner.

He threw up on his feet.

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry,"

said Hermione, voice as gentle as the snow. "It means . . . you know . . .

living beyond death. Living after death."

But they're not living, Harry thought bitterly, They're gone.

What use were pretty words when his father and mother lay buried beneath his feet,

rotting and leaving him alone in the world.

Tears started streaming down his eyes, freezing in an instant.

Harry did not try to stop them; there would be no point in the action.

His eyes were glued to their names in the tombstone, reading over and over again.

They would never know he was here,

alive and with a beating heart because of their sacrifice.

They would never know how much he loved them,

even without having spent a single moment with them.

They would never know how he desperately

wished to be buried beneath the snow beside them.

A tear escaped from his eyes and broke the dam of his emotions

with such strength that his legs gave out,

the stone wall behind him the only thing slowing his descent.

The girl in his arms took her turn to hold him as tenderly as she could,

calling his name in worry. All he could do was say the name of the man he had let die-they had let die-as the warm girl comforted him through her own pain.

They cried together on the mud, feeling the whole weight of their grief as if it were the first day. It felt like he would never be able to stop his pained wails now that he had started.

The rain kept falling around them, doing nothing to hide their tears.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered,

voice so soft it could have belonged to the splitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

The death eaters stood as still as the forest around them, all waiting.

Hagrid thrashed in his binds, and Bellatrix panted,

and Harry thought of Ron and Hermione and Ginny and the redhead's lips on his own-

Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry's heart,

eyes curious like a child wondering what would happen if they broke one of their toys.

Harry stared back, willing the abomination to do it, to go ahead.

Before he lost the strength to stand. Before he could lose control to fear-

He saw the mouth move and a flash of sick green, and everything faded.

.

..

…

….

…..

…

….

There is an endless expanse before my eyes.

In all directions, there was only the sky, the sea, and the point where they met.

All is silent. All is unmoving. No waves. No wind.

Nothing but blue.

The blue of the sky. The blue of the water. The blue reflected on the door.

I feel myself being drawn to it, one hand stretching to reach it. I take a step.

The water moves beneath my feet. A ripple. Moving and moving into the horizon. Not stopping.

I take another step, but my feet don't move. My eyes fall to see my reflection. It breaks, cracks like glass. I'm distorted beyond it. Warped into something I am not. And yet I know it's Me.

My reflection fades, the water turning murky. It's red now. All red.

Panic is all I feel. And then I feel everything I could not.

I run to the door, suddenly aware that I should not be here.

My hand grasps the worn doorknob, and the water drags me under.

Should I swim and fight to see the other side of the door? Or should I let the heartless ocean carry me and drown?

I still did not know which terrified me the most.

I could hear voices in the distance, muffled. So many voices from so many places. They called my name. All of them. Each one of them.

Then darkness claimed me.

His eyes opened wide at once, darting in all directions and seeing nothing. All was a blur intermingled with sharpness.

He breathed desperately as he lay on the harsh ground, the air burning his chest as it entered and left him. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision, tears falling down the side of his face.

Memories of the dreams- fragments -flitted through his mind before disappearing, scattering like ashes in the air. Awareness came back as slowly as the fragments left him, until he was cognizant enough to recognize what he was seeing.

A canopy of trees, high above, light shimmering through the gaps it could find.

Am I still in Hogwarts? He wondered as he sat up, disorientation slowly leaving him so panic could rise in its place.

Breathing fast in spite of his aching chest, he stood up, turning around in his spot to perceive his surroundings better. A sense of Déjà vu still persisted, as he expected to hear thestrals moving about in the distance. But there were none, and the trees and soil surrounding him looked different. Less alive.

His anxiety skyrocketed at the realization, and he started looking at his pockets and the floor around him. His watch and wand were on his person, and his satchel lay a few steps away. Inside he found all of his things, including what looked like a miniature version of his trunk.

He forced himself to stop, falling to his trembling knees and hands, and taking deep breaths of the clear air. In. Out. In. Out. Until he could see through the fog in his mind.

With one last deep breath Nathan stood up on still weak legs, picked a direction, and started walking.

It took an hour for Nathan to finally see the forest thinning. An entire hour with just the visions flitting about his mind for company. By the time he reached the edge of the forest his nerves were completely shot. The trees and foliage being taken over by the unfamiliar shapes of tall buildings and cars did not help in the slightest.

People walked hurriedly by him in the streets, the similarity to the halls of the castle the only comfort he could find. Everything else was too terrifying. Too big. Once, he'd been afraid of the looming walls and dark ceiling of the ancient structure.

Now he missed it all, the sky being too frightening in its all enveloping beauty. Stretching everywhere he looked, not being stopped by the buildings that made up this giant maze. If he felt lost in Hogwarts, he did not even want to acknowledge how utterly terrifying it was walking around a place like this. For a moment an image flashed through his mind, impossibly fast and incomprehensible.

A deep pain in his stomach was accompanied by an audible rumbling, and hunger pierced through his fears momentarily. His trembling legs stumbled him into a small cafe, almost empty but with a nice ambience.

He stepped inside with hesitation, a bell softly chiming as he opened the door, adrenaline flooding his system at the sound. None of the people present looked at him, and he took deep breaths to calm down.

No one stood at the cash register, and Nathan took a moment to peruse the menu. Some drinks looked vaguely familiar to him, the air tasting peculiar for some moments. He took a step forward as he decided on his order, hands going to the money on his pocke-

"Ah, shit!" He said, shoulders dropping in defeat, even as his eyes widened in confusion. "Huh?" His voice came low and raspy, hard to hear. But he was sure there was something strange about it. From the corner of his eyes he saw an old man looking at him. Nathan ducked his head and walked out of the café.

He kept his head down as he walked to a nearby bench, refusing to look at the blue sky. He dropped himself into the cold wood, cringing as he heard a rattling noise coming from his bag as it fell beside him. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he slouched forwards, face falling into his hands.

What the hell am I gonna do now? He felt defeated, the wall closing in around him. No money, no place to live, no one to help him. He thought of his friends, but wondered if they would help him. I don't even have a way to contact them.

Nathan forced himself to calm down as best he could, racking his brain trying to come up with a plan to survive the summer. Fragments from his dream kept flashing through his mind, incoherent pieces that had only one thing he understood..

He remembered the last dream that had happened. Where the faces he saw did not only feel familiar. They were.

The hands holding his head slowly started shaking, and he took deep breaths as anxiety and fear threatened to consume him. Don't focus on what it means! He kept repeating to himself, like a drowning man holding on to tattered pieces of his sail in a storm..

The fog in his mind dissipated even more, some of the visions flitting about coming in and out of focus.

It was all so much and so little, even this small percentage he could perceive of what he was sure was a veritable ocean of memories-

Don't think about it! He screamed at himself, hands tightening on his hair. Whispered screams kept distorting his hearing. It was truly nauseating. With herculean effort, Nathan forced himself to breathe. In. Out. In Out. Repeating until he wasn't on the verge of breaking and he could drag his brain through a facsimile of a plan.

There has to… be something. It was almost physically painfull to think. Like he had to push and pull the thoughts together, connecting them into something that made sense. He thought of all the information and knowledge he had painstakingly acquired the last year, hoping some hope could be found.

Images flashed through his mind, of people milling about, of bright magical shops, of a child with wide green eyes. Blessing or curse, Nathan held on to the images as the lifelines he was going to use it as.

Diagon alley… I need to… go there.

His spiraling thoughts stopped as bright clashing colors appeared on the corner of his eyes, raising his head from his hands to see the most horrible combination of clothing he had ever seen on a human being. His mind immediately conjured the image of Ron Weasley on the yule ball as if to disprove him, and Nathan felt his disgust rise higher.

The man finally noticed his staring, openly smiling with a hint of nervousness.

"Hello there, fellow, uh, man!" Fake enthusiasm dripped from the man's voice. "What a nice day to just, ah, take a walk!"

Nathan just stared at the man, unwilling to understand just what exactly this was supposed to be, even if he already knew the answer. The man was becoming agitated by his intense dead stare, so he talked before the man could.

"Just as a warning…" Nathan started slowly, no energy in his voice. "..Look at other people's clothing before choosing your wardrobe. And don't be creepy."

"I-I'm sure I don't know what you mean!" His smile trembled, the rising panic clear to see on his face.

"Look, I really don't give a shit." Nathan said dismissively as he grabbed his bag, ready to go as far away from the weird wizard. Realization of the opportunity he had stopped him, as he reluctantly turned back to the man.

"I just gave you some solid advice, so it's only fair you return the favor." The man opened his mouth to protest, but Nathan cut him off before he could. "How do I get to diagon alley?"

The man blinked, understanding slowly taking over his face. "You're a wizard." He said lowly, before sighing in relief and slouching on the seat. "Why didn't you say anything, mate?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, feeling his headache spiking. "Just answer me, please."

"You don't know how to get there?" His face contorted in confusion.

"I'm new to the area."

"Oh, that explains the weird way you talk."

Nathan was not going to dignify that with a response. "Do you know how to get there?!" It was getting increasingly hard to leave the irritation out of his voice.

"Sure!" The man said nonchalantly, completely spread out in his seat. "Just take the knight bus!"

"And how do I do that?" Talking to this man was like milking a stone.

"Put your wand out and call it mate!"

Very helpful. He'd much rather be milking a stone. "Is it free?"

"Course not!"

"Right." Nathan was done with this man. "Do you know how I can get there by walking? the address? Name of the street? Something?!"

The man looked warily at Nathan after his outburst. "I-Its on Charity cross street, or Chariton, I don't remember! Between a bookstore and some strange muggle shop with some weird disks and squares!

"Kay thanks bye!" Nathan spit out, jumping to his feet and walking away as fast as he could, massaging his pounding head as he went.

Charity cross street. Bookstore and weird shop with disks. He repeated to himself as he walked, trying to make the information stick.

The sound of a chime startled him, a woman walking out of a building up ahead. He took a deep breath to settle his anxiety, before approaching the distracted woman.

"Excuse me!" The woman jumped slightly, turning to face him. Her expression was full of fright, and he instantly felt bad for scaring her. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare ya. I just wanted to ask if you could tell me how to get to charity cross street?"

The fear on the woman's face abated, confusion taking its place. "Charity cross?" She asked, seeming to talk more to herself than to him.

"Oh, do you mean charing cross road?"

"Probably. The guy that gave me the address wasn't the brightest." But his clothes sure were! He thought disdainfully , still annoyed at the ignorant wizard.

The woman seemed to find his annoyance funny, as she giggled in his face. "Go down this street, and then go right. "She said, pointing in a direction. "Keep following the A4 until you see a big Greek column. Follow the street that goes to the right of it, and you'll get there."

"Thank you so much." Nathan said, relief flooding him, as he turned and started following the woman's directions. At least I can't get any more lost. Nathan snorted derisively at himself. What a shitty silver lining.

It was easy to spot the entrance to the alley, in spite of the horrible explanation he had gotten.

A pub stood in between a bookstore and a records shop, the nonsensical description popping in his brain, a small headache reappearing with it. Nathan crossed the street, noting the people entering and exiting the two buildings besides it, but ignoring the one in the middle.

Up close to the door he could see a strange shimmering, like a transparent glass dome floated and flowed in front of the building. He walked through the door before he saw anything else.

The first thing he noticed was how the place seemed abandoned, even if tables were occupied and he could clearly see the bartender. Paint peeled, wood was missing, and the atmosphere was a little dark.

Somehow, Nathan found it cozy.

Warily, he approached the bar, intent to keep following his plan to simply ask for information.

"Um, excuse me?" The bartender turned, a toothless smile appearing on his face. "Hi, um, how can I get to diagon alley?"

"New around here?" Nathan nodded, and the man put down the glass he had been polishing. "Follow me."

They exited through a side door, staring at a brick wall. The man told him of the password, and watched Nathan open the wall with his wand.

"Thank you!" He said to the nice man as he went back inside the pub. With a deep breath, Nathan stepped through the archway.

A crooked street sat surrounded by a myriad of shops selling various wares. There was a broom shop, an apothecary, a clothes store, and so much more.

Okay, I'm here. He thought as he looked at all the shops that made hogsmeade look normal. What do I do now?

No plan had been formed as he had walked through the streets. He had objectives, but no clear path to them. Not when his head was such a mess. His stomach started rumbling again, and he groaned at the pain in his stomach, becoming worryingly intense.

He stopped by a building, leaning on it as he waited for the pain to subside. His gaze fell on the items being shown through the glass: Three beautiful wands that looked more like sculptures than tools. The craftsmanship captivated him, unconsciously stepping closer to the glass.

"Well, hello there."

Nathan jumped, muscles jittery as he turned to see an old man at the shop's door. He tried to relax but continued on edge as the man's old, intense eyes gazed right down into his soul.

"I'm-I'm sor-"

"Curious." The creepy man muttered, stepping closer to the frightened teen, who took a step back. "Very curious."

"Is there something wrong?" Nathan asked warily, disconcerted with the man's behavior.

"Oh, nothing at all." The old man chirply answered, straightening back up, and with speed that belied his age, dragged the now scared kid through the door to his shop.

"What the hell?" Nathan screamed, stance widening as he got ready to flee.

"Oh, excuse me, I did not introduce myself." Nothing in the man's demeanor told him he was sorry. "My name is Garrick Olivander, the owner of this shop."

"And you dragged me here, why?"

"I remember every wand that I have ever created and sold." Olivander approached again, slower this time, and somehow reverently. "But I don't remember yours."

Nathan's shoulders sagged, eyes never leaving his 'kidnapper'. "I didn't get it here."

"I know." The old man said softly, gently. "May I?" He asked as he outstretched his hand.

His gaze fell to the wand in his hand. It was rough, filled with dents and nicks. Like an old blade that had seen more than it should. With a deep breath, he hesitantly offered the wand to the creepy man.

"Hmm." The sound escaped the now pensive man, as he hunched over the object, seeming to see through the wood.

Nathan took the time to look around, noting the incredible amount of wands and the haphazard manner some of them were piled. You really have to like your job to create these many by hand.

"Fascinating."

Nathan turned at once at the awed voice, forgetting where he was for a second.

"This… Is a very unique wand." Olivander said as he stepped closer to the teen, the wand rested like a sword in both of his hands.

"It is made out of ashes of multiple types of wood, compressed into this form." The man ran a hand over the 'wood', listening to every groove and scar upon its skin. "And the core… it is reminiscent of a phoenix's feather, but, different. I do not know more than that.".

"The wand chooses the wizard, a small reflection of their wielder." The aged wizard raised his eyes, locking them on to Nathans. "Some are hard like their wizards are stubborn. Others pliable to match how their owner is adaptable."

"What do you see?" Nathan asked, voice small and almost unheard if not for the silence.

"The world can bend you as much as it wants to." Olivander grabbed both ends, hands holding on as tight as they could, before he folded the 'wood'.

"But you won't break."

In his hands the wand bent, folding in on itself, making a loop in the middle. He held the position for moments, before returning it to its original shape.

There wasn't a single break.

With wide eyes Nathan saw it all, numbly receiving the offered object into his shaking hands. He kept looking at it, wondering if the man was right. If he really was that resilient.

Wondering if it even was a good thing.

"Go now, sir." The old wizard gently guided him back to the door, opening it for the still stunned teen.

Nathan dazedly started walking out of the store, the looming sky threatening to swallow him whole.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "And remember."

Tired eyes turned back to the shop owner, fearful of what he would say now.

"Don't let fear take everything from you."

The words registered slowly, and the daze lifted from his eyes. Nathan nodded, shoulders squaring, as he walked away with as much confidence as he could muster.

As he sat on a hard, cold bench, head in his hand, stomach aching painfully, Nathan thought this was the most miserable he had ever been.

As if to dispute the claim and make his day worse, flashes of his dreams passed through his mind, a horrible pulsating pain assaulting his head.

"Please…" The weak words escaped him, hands clutching desperately at his hair. Grains of sand floated in front of him everytime he opened his eyes, before closing them due to the blinding lights.

Trapped in the darkness of his head, his mind spiraled out of control. Cold, hungry and alone. A black hole sat in the pit of his stomach, a tight compressed ball of all his emotions. Fear, anger, anxiety, dread, weariness, depression. All threatening to pull him under the raging sea with them. But frustration that nothing he did seemed to work shone through, burning his insides till even his bones felt the heat.

You've done nothing.

His head snapped open, eyes falling to the seat beside him. There was nothing. Where before he averted his gaze, now he searched with frenzied pupils for a sign of the apparition.

There was nothing.

You've done nothing.

Glowing eyes narrowed as he tried to glare at a ghost he knew wasn't there. He gripped his hands tightly with shaking fists as his mind conjured a mocking tone from the whispered words. It wasn't hard to do. Not when the voice sounded so much like his own.

You've done nothing.

"What do you want me to do?" He forced through gritted teeth, head bowed to the floor as he glared at his feet. He felt the fabric of his pants rip. "What the fuck do you want me to do!?"

You know.

His breath hitched, his insides freezing and burning all at once. I can't. The word repeated in his mind, over and over. Tears came to his eyes, but none fell, as he held as strongly onto them as his will to not completely break down. I-I can't. I'm af-.

You won't break.

Once more his head snapped up, even if he knew the hallucination still had not deemed to show itself. What good is that, if all that's left is this. He asked in his own head as voices echoed mockingly, bouncing his doubts on the walls of his consciousness.

They can bend, and you won't break.

Warm and refreshing was the sensation he felt, In the middle of his back, spreading left and right, up and down, slowly. When his eyes fell on the seat beside him he could almost see a man for a moment, before it seemed to vanish. The soothing sensation perdured.

Nathan felt his body move on its own, and he felt a multitude of hands all over him. Small, large, weak and strong. Pulling and pushing him to his feet. He didn't fight them as they brought comfort to his whole body. A solace he could not remember ever feeling.

His Vision cleared, and the world came into sharp focus in washed out colors, as if a filter was put over his eyes.

But somehow he still recognized the alleway he was glaring at. Knockturn alley, if he was remembering Harry's description correctly.

For a single second, clarity came to his mind, and all sensations stopped. His gaze darted in every direction, as information was whispered to his brain and an idea formed.

With nervous muscles and aching chest, Nathan grabbed his bag, pulled his hood over his head, and walked to the entrance of the alley, wand held tight in hand.

They can bend you as much as they want

"But I won't break."

Vertigo assaulted him the moment he stepped into the alley, such was the change in atmosphere.

The sun did not reach the narrow streets properly, the long shadows on the dirty streets forcing the image of a city from his dreams to the forefront of his mind.

People lurked in nooks and crannies, peering evasively through corners, covered by the dark. Nathan did the same, fearful of the chance of the eyes in the darkness being ghosts of his own mind. Already he regretted his decision.

The surroundings became more oppressive the further in he walked, the walls seeming to close in. The streets became more and more out of sorts, and the people grew seedier.

Movement from the corner of his eyes made him jump. Already feeling his hands shaking, he approached the smaller alleyway slowly.

Further in he could see two shadows. A tall, hooded man, fiddling with something in his hands, and a pudgy one, looking down and pulling something roughly.

He kept approaching, less and less panicked that these were not apparitions only he could see. Strange movement further on caught his eye, and he noticed the third shape hidden behind the fat one. Small and shaking, it seemed to stumble with every forceful pull the man made. The silhouette became clearer, long ears visible, and Nathan froze.

A fragment came unbidden to the forefront of his mind, as if on instinct. It lasted only a moment, but it was enough.

His legs moved on their own, a burst of speed putting him between the two men before he could process what he was doing.

One hand swiped the bag of coins from one man, the other grabbed the chain that held the elf.

A blink, and he found himself at the other end of the alley, legs starting to burn, and a crying elf below him.

"Run away!" He yelled to the small being, conjuring a blue flame to melt the collar around its neck. "Go!"

The elf nodded shakily with impossibly wide eyes, before vanishing with a 'pop'.

"Over there!"

Instinct took over at the shout, Nathan jumping to his feet and taking off down the narrow passage.

It was like in his first days at Hogwarts, his mind mused, as he tried to navigate the maze of streets. Only now he was running as fast as he could, running for his life.

What the hell was I thinking?! He asked himself, pushing the images of a deadly hedge maze out of his brain. Right. I wasn't!

He was roughly pulled out of his train of thought as his face almost collided with a stone wall. "No, no, no!" Panic rose in his chest as he searched for an exit and gauged if he could scale the wall in time. The approaching shouts told him no.

He turned slowly, knees bending, breathing slowing. The dancing flecks of dust seemed to freeze in place, as the two men approached.

With every breath his eyes seemed to focus more, like the lens of a camera. His muscles relaxed and flexed at what seemed like a hundred times a minute.

His hand came up in front of him, and it felt more like he held a sword in his hand rather than a wand.

The two men stopped, their lips moving as if talking, but he heard no words. Everything was silent, drowned out by the white noise.

Natha did not move as they pointed their wands at him. He did not move as the anger deepened their scowls. He only kept breathing.

A flare of magic passed the air, and he moved.

"PROTEGO!"

"REDUCTO!"

The spell impacted his shield that dissipated the moment they touched. Nathan had already moved, running back to the wall.

"GLACIUS!"

He shifted at the shout, the cold blue spell passing through and impacting the ground ahead. He kept running with all he had.

"Shit!" The scream left him as he slipped on the frozen puddle, falling hard on his side, head hitting the wall.

The infernal ringing crescendoed, almost drowning the sound of another spell coming his way. He evaded it by the skin of his teeth, hand cutting open in the uneven ground.

Still on his back, white noise loud in his ears, he saw the two men almost upon him. His leg ached, and he doubted he could run faster than them now.

"INCENDIO!"

The stream of flames came his way, big and unavoidable in the tight space. He stopped breathing, seeing painful death fast approaching. There was nothing he could-

RHO AIAS!

In a flash his hand moved, pointing his wand at the fire, a small blue flame appearing on the tip, its intricate shape reminiscent of a shield and a flower combined.

The angry red fire touched the shield, fully turning blue in a moment, before fizzling down.

Nathan sat stunned, just like the bewildered man in front of him. He shook off the confusion, unwilling to let the opportunity go, rushing forwards in spite of the pain in his legs.

The tall man recovered, eyes widening in fear seeing him rushing to his position.

"CONFRINGO!"

"REDUCTO!"

Both spells missed, one because of panic, the other because of lack of skill.

The tall man opened his mouth to scream another spell, before being punched by Nathan, falling to the ground with a harsh sound. Nathan wasted no time in stomping the lights out of the man.

"DIFFINDO!"

"ARRGGH!" His arm took the hit head on, blood trailing down to join the cut hand. He moved in the direction the spell had pushed him, turning on the spot and trailing his wand on the fearful man close by.

"AVAD-"

"STUPEFY!"

With a thud, the pudgy man collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

Nathan stood still, his lungs feeling like they refused to ingest the air they so desperately needed. The adrenaline fled his weary body, his head immediately pounding with a pulsating pain, the ringing continuing.

"Fuck me." He straightened his back, bones popping, before limping out of the street, bag heavier with the things stolen from the men.

His body lost its strength the more steps he took, and with the blurriness of his vision it was hard to see if he was going the right way.

He limped through the darkening street, lamps turning on in and outside the shops, the glare of the lights only aggravating his headache. Bile tried to push its way through his throat, and together with the hollow feeling in his stomach, it truly made for a horrible feeling permeating through his entire being.

Nathan stumbled into a familiar wall of red bricks, his unfocused mind somehow registering the landmark as being the right place, so he limped through the doors into the pub. It was filled to the brim, the loud noises making him want to keel over and cry. He soldiered on to the balcony.

"One room and some food, please." He said to the man on the other side of the counter, in what must have been a pitiful voice.

"Five galleons."

Weak hands fished what he hoped was the appropriate amount, before being handed keys and a sandwich, and being told the room's number. He stepped away, walking as fast as he could through the bustling tables.

Have withstood suffering to create countless weapons...

Halfway through the staircase he fell to his knees, feeling his body completely start to shut down. He crawled on all fours the rest of the way, uncaring of who saw him, barely registering the pain in his knees as the darkness started coming through the corner of his eyes.

Yet, these hand shall never hold anything ever again...

Trembling fingers inserted the key, pushing the door open slowly. He dragged himself through the ground, closing the door with his feet, but too weak to lock it.

His arms burned, and his eyes saw almost all black, the bed the only thing in his tunnel vision. It seemed to take an eternity till his hand touched the wooden frame.

So, as I pray, give me…

Nathan lost all strength, darkness claiming him on the cold, hard ground.