Teeth

by hathanhate

It starts with an animagus transformation gone wrong and leads to a journey Harry never expected. Come along for the ride as he faces war and change and the consequences of growing older; gaining a family and new friends and power he never could have imagined along the way. M/F, M/M pairings, mostly gen. Slow pace. (Under review, editing and reposting here and on AO3)

27. Part Three, Chapter Nine

Thank you to everyone currently reading this sentence!

So, here we are. The last chapter of Part Three.

Before we get to that though, most of you seem to think my author's notes are just fine as they are, so I'll leave them be. Also, no one has really said much on my Omake idea, so if I don't hear from anyone over the break, we'll scrap it.

This whole Part of the story was a lot of fun to write. I almost regret it coming to a close, but at the same time, it will be nice to move our way closer to the crossover. I will explain this now, so anyone wondering is aware of it. Part Four, consists of various scenes into Harry and company's travels, which go on for something like two and a half years, though you only get little looks into it. The Avengers plot starts in chapter 5 of it, and that's when things properly move on.

So I'll try to get enough written that I can start posting Part Four in two weeks, but if it takes longer, it takes longer. I would like to set things up so that when I start posting, you get two chapters a week instead of one. We'll see how things go.

Now then, onto the chapter.

Enjoy.

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The plan they inevitably came up with had taken two weeks of arguing back and forth before both the Order, and Severus (doing his part from the shadows) were happy with it. In the end it wound up being much more sneaky than Harry could have hoped for. They would break off into four teams, each one consisting of Order members, Aurors who Moody knew and trusted, and those at Bogdon who were willing to fight.

Two teams would sneak into the castle with Harry's help, then Harry himself would return to his own team. The first castle team would then split up, with the younger members going off to get help from the older students, and the other half of the team would slip through the castle taking down death eaters as stealthily, and non-lethally, as they could. The other half, after securing some help, would do the same, while also causing as much chaos and confusion as they could without putting themselves in too much danger. Both groups would meet up when they could, but neither would begin their part until one of the other teams had given the signal.

The second castle team would sneak up to the roof with brooms, and would later provide air support. The third team would enter the forest, and find Bane. Once the centaurs were aware of their presence, they would set themselves up at the treeline, and the team would move to near the lake, and disillusion themselves. Both sides would act when the time was right.

The third team was Harry's own, and they would wait out front. Harry would call Voldemort out, and, knowing the Dark Lord, he would answer the challenge. That would be the signal to send the others into motion. Likely, Voldemort and a number of his followers would come out to face them, and then, based on the nature of the Dark Lord, it could go one of two ways.

In the first scenario, Voldemort would agree to a duel, and Harry would fight him while everyone else stood by. He more or less hoped for this outcome, because, so long as he won, there was far less risk, because any death eaters not truly loyal wouldn't fight them once the Dark Lord had gone down. The other scenario, would be him ordering his death eaters to attack, at which point the lake team, the broom team, and the centaurs would all begin their own attack.

The death eaters would be surrounded from the start, and thus at a disadvantage, and the castle team would handle anyone who didn't come outside.

It was the best they could come up with, and it was a sound enough plan even with all that could go wrong. They were also partially counting on those Slytherins who had stayed behind to act. A mutiny on top of the rest would go well in their favor.

But the Slytherins might not act, and the students might not help, and Voldemort could have far more numbers than they thought, and more than that...

The werewolves could pose a problem too.

Ginny had told them that the werewolves kept a schedule. There was a weakness that came with whatever Voldemort had done that allowed them to change whenever they wanted. She had said that they still left the castle during a full moon, which implied the forced change still happened, but that they would be in the infirmary for a week afterwards. The forced change made them very week and they mostly slept during that time, so they would be going to Hogwarts two days after the next full moon.

With any luck, the werewolves would be out of commission during that time, and wouldn't get involved in their attack on the castle, but Harry still crossed his fingers and prayed to some God he didn't really believe in, that everything would go as planned.

All the same, he still prepared for the worst.

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"You look happy." Harry didn't bother to glance up at the sarcastic voice. He sat on one of the battlements of the walls surrounding Bogdon castle, his feet dangling over the edge as he stared out at the snowy landscape. Far off he could see the ocean, with the bell tower between them and it, and another direction, the trees of a forest peaked out from the horizon. The rest was nothing but snow. Snow that stretched out so far he could barely see the point at which it ended and the cloudless blue sky began.

Muhammad climbed up onto the battlement next to his own, wrapped up in a thick furry coat that looked so strange compared to his usual thin clothing, but then, the young man couldn't handle the cold nearly so well as Harry, whose very blood burned hot enough to make a coat entirely unnecessary. Muhammad lit up a couple cigarettes and handed him one, and he gave a nod of thanks as he took his first breath of the tobacco. Most people didn't like the smell of it, but to Harry, that strong dry scent that clung so deeply into his clothing nothing could get it out was comforting. It made him feel safe, and reminded him of his time back on Mahdi's farm.

That place had felt more like home than Bogdon, but no matter how much he missed it, he didn't regret leaving it behind.

"Worried about tomorrow?" They would be gathering at Grimmauld then, all of them, everyone who was getting involved, and the day after that... They would attempt to take back Hogwarts.

"Yea." He didn't say anything else for a bit, and Muhammad let him have his silence until he was ready to break it. There were days where the two could talk for hours on end, but silences like these were just as common. The young Arab always seemed to know which of the two it was that he needed. "I'm afraid." He finally said. But that wasn't right, because he wasn't scared, not exactly. "No. I'm..." He struggled to find the right words.

"You don't want to lose more people." Harry felt the breath rush out of him, and nodded.

"Yea..." Muhammad hummed, and took another breath of his own cigarette.

"Don't be. You can't save everyone. If people die, they die. It's not the end." He looked carefully at the other, and Muhammad elaborated. "Death is not the end of it all, just a new beginning. Even if it seems like you've lost someone, you haven't. You'll see them again one day, and they never leave you. Not really." He looked away, and thought on that.

It was true he supposed. He had never forgotten anyone who died. He thought for a moment of Sirius. They all lived on in his heart. One day, he would die too, and they would all be together again, in whatever place it was that they would go after their lives passed. His connection with Mitera had gone a long way in helping him to accept death.

But that didn't mean losing people hurt any less.

"What happened to your parents?" It was an out of the blue question, really. He had never pressed for information on Muhammad's past. He had never had a need to. He didn't need to know everything about the other to trust him, but right now... It just seemed important somehow. Muhammad stilled for a moment, hesitating before taking another drag on his cigarette, and didn't answer at first.

"Mahdi killed my father because he killed my mother." Harry stared. Mahdi? Harry tried to imagine the man taking a life... Surprisingly, it was easy to see it. He was a gentleman by nature; kind and merciful... But he wielded his blade like a warrior, and he had once given Harry a lecture regarding the protection of one's loved ones, and the sharp look in his eyes had been harsh and unforgiving. Muhammad's mother had been Mahdi's sister... Yes. Harry could very easily imagine the man killing someone for hurting her.

"Why did your father..."

"She lost her usefulness." Harry started.

"Wha?" Muhammad sighed.

"Where I come from, there was a time when women were little more than cattle. They are considered lesser than men, their only worth being to bear children. It has grown better over time. Women have far more rights now. There are places among muggles where they are considered nearly equal to men, but it is not like that everywhere, and the magical world is still behind in such things..." He grimaced.

"My mother's marriage, was more a contract than anything else. She was sold by my grandparents to be my father's wife. Mahdi tried to prevent it, but he was only her brother. He had no say in the matter. Before I was born, my father told my mother he wanted a powerful son to carry on his name, and if she did not give him one, he would kill her and her child." Harry listened carefully, disgusted by the cruelty. "When I was born, my mother was overjoyed. I was a boy, and she believed that meant we would be safe. But when I was a little older, she took me to a man who tested my magic. You and I have fought, so you know that if not for my skill, and my speed, I would hardly be a threat. My magic has never been very powerful. My mother tried to explain it to me, and told me I could never tell father the truth. I didn't really understand then, but I listened to her." He took another drag.

"Then my father learned the truth on his own. I don't know how he found out, because we had managed to keep it secret for several years. But he threatened to kill us both, if my mother could not give him a son with real power this time." There was bitter disgust in his voice. "But my mother was not very fertile, and she could have no more children. She was no longer useful to him. He would have killed me also, if not for Mahdi." Harry looked down, his own problems seeming... Very small at the moment. Muhammad, was stronger than him. Maybe not magically, but he was. He wondered if perhaps that was where his scar had come from.

"You lost your parents too, didn't you?" Harry nodded.

"Voldemort killed my mother when I was young, and one of his followers killed my father just a couple years ago."

"What happened to them?"

"Hmm?"

"The person who killed your father."

"I killed her."

"Good." There was a cruel glint in Muhammad's eyes, and Harry wasn't as bothered by it as he probably should have been. Even though it had put blood on his hands, and made him a murderer, killing Bellatrix had never been something he'd regretted. Not once. "Come on." He turned away from his thoughts as Muhammad climbed down. "It's too cold out here, and I want some liquor. You're going to drink with me." It was a statement, not a question, and Harry chuckled. Muhammad threw an arm over his shoulders when he came down. "Today we will drink and rest, and then we will go to war."

And though Harry's stomach twisted painfully at the thought of that, he nodded. Some alcohol might actually be good for him right about now.

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Harry looked confident in his place just within the trees of the forbidden forest. Inside, he was nervous and worried, but he had pushed those emotions down, and worked to make himself look as confident as he could. He seemed to have succeeded, and while it was mostly a facade, it had affected the others in his team well. They all looked just as confident as he did, and he hoped that in their cases, that it was not a mask.

His team had himself, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Muhammad, and a handful of people he didn't know. The twins were in charge of the broom team, Lucius and Draco would be handling the forest team, and Shacklebolt was leading the sneak attack within the castle. He hoped all his friends would do well. They waited, giving the others time to get into position. Harry could just barely see the castle through the trees, and he eyed the great doors warily.

This place had been home once. He still remembered the time he had argued with Frode, when the portrait had told him he might one day change his mind. But... It had happened, and now, he really didn't want to be here. He had never done his last year at Hogwarts, but he didn't think he would go back. If he survived this, he'd take his NEWTS through the Ministry.

"Ye alright lad?" He glanced to his side, at Moody. The old Auror's magical eye was spinning about rapidly in the socket, but his normal one was riveted on Harry. The teen (was he really just a teen still?) calmed some at his presence. If there was anyone he could choose to have his back when shit hit the fan, he was glad it was Moody. He felt Muhammad come up on his other side, silent, and strangely without a cigarette. Remus stood behind him, watching him with amber eyes that looked just a bit wild, and the nerves vanished. These people had his back, and he trusted them to survive this.

"I'm fine." And when he said it then, it was true. Moody grinned at him, the sight still as disturbing with all his scars as it had been that very first time he had seen the man smile, and he grinned back, his smile just a bit too dark, his teeth just a little too sharp.

"Then let's go." He nodded, and stepped out of the cover of the trees. He walked across the grass calmly, as though he hadn't a care in the world, even as adrenalin began to pump through his veins, and his heart beat faster. The others all followed him, until he stood on the center of the Hogwart's lawn, far enough from the doors that the death eaters would have plenty of room to gather outside. He stood there for a moment, taking in a deep breath. He could smell the grass and dirt and the trees and the sweat of his fellows. He put a hand to his neck, and it glowed softly with purple light. When he spoke, his voice boomed as though through a microphone, hard and clear, and very very loud.

"By the power of my magic, I hereby challenge the man known as Voldemort to a mortal duel." Such simple words, and yet they hung around his neck like a noose, and magic filled the air sharply, invisible to the naked eye. But he could feel it, in the way his hair stood on end and the air became so still. There was silence for a moment, no birds in the trees, no wind, everyone held their breath, and then the doors of Hogwarts slammed open, and the silence was broken.

Voldemort came out, flanked by many in black cloaks and silver masks, every step graceful as any pureblood, despite the fact he was not one. The light shone atop his bald head, and the slits of his nostrils flared. He grinned, revealing perfect teeth that shown. His eyes, red, so very very red like blood fell on Harry with the gaze of a predator. There had been many times the teen had feared this man; feared him like he was death itself, but now...

Perhaps he should have, but he felt no fear. He was anxious for the sake of his friends, and perhaps even a little excited at the thought of battle, but there was no fear. The thought disconcerted him for a moment and he tried to remember the last time he had been afraid, and the memory came to him easily. The pale creature of the desert that had filled him with such terror he had been frozen like a statue.

"An Alu. They scare people, and then they take the fear away, and they don't give it back. It's like... Like a gift, or a curse maybe..."

He recalled Muhammad's words. Is that what it had done? Had it taken all his fear away so he couldn't feel it anymore? The thought bothered him more than it should have, but then the thoughts were cast aside, because Voldemort had opened his mouth.

"I accept the challenge." And the magic in the air snapped around them, binding them as enemies. One of them would die today. He came forward, and the people behind Harry, who had his back, stepped away. A wide circle of space existed around them by the time Voldemort stopped a couple meters from him. Looked as though they would be going with scenario one then. He saw Nagini curling around the feet of some of Voldemort's followers, and sensed a darkness from her that had not been there before. A shimmer appeared in the air around them, a shield, created from their vow to insure no one would interfere or be harmed by their fighting.

So it was true. She was a horcrux now. But that wasn't Harry's problem anymore. Right now he was to duel, and no one could interfere in that. When it was done, no matter the victor, they would begin to fight. Already, the castle team was doing their job.

"How surprising, that you would come to face me this way. I thought you had run off, but it seems you were not so intelligent as I had first thought." Harry didn't rise to the bait. He would wait for Voldemort to make the first move. He kept the hand with his band of stones up, and the other rested on the hilt of his sword. "Resorting to using muggle weapons now, Potter? I suppose I was right about your magical skill at least." There were a few jeers from the death eaters, but the teen paid them no mind. He kept his eyes on Voldemort.

"If my magic is lacking, yours must be downright pitiful. I'm sure there's not much difference between you and a squib." Voldemort's predatory smile fell to grit teeth and his whole face twisted in anger. He looked funny that way, Harry thought. And then there was no more time for thought, because a nasty yellow light headed towards him, and the fight was on.

He rolled forward, under the curse and closer to Voldemort, hoping to end things quickly. His body curled and tightened like a spring, and he launched himself at the Dark Lord, feeling the grass give slightly beneath his boots. He had drawn his scimitar so quickly he was hardly aware of it, and the black blade sung through the air as it headed at the evil man's head, ready to cleave him in two. But then Voldemort cast a shield, and it screeched like lightning when the sword slammed against it, bright purple light filling his eyes and the sound hurting his sensitive ears as the shield protested against his strength.

With a grunt he was flung away, and landed in a crouch, barely remaining that way as another spell, red this time (crucio maybe?) came at him. He dashed to the side, close to the ground and using both legs and an arm to move himself faster. He ducked and dodged as the Dark Lord gave it his all, so many colored lights trying to catch him in their grip. He zigzagged and changed directions as randomly as he could, not wanting to give Voldemort the chance to aim for where he would be, and hit him as a result.

He caught sight of his face as a cackle filled the air, reminding him somewhat of Bellatrix. The Dark Lord was grinning, his red eyes shining at the thought of a challenge, but they were not glazed. The man was well aware of the world around him. Harry raised his arm as he past under another curse and blue light rushed from his palm as he called out his first spell.

"Lacero!" It was one Moody had taught him, and though it was dodged, it tore into the ground like a giant claw. Harry dodged the next curse and started to smile in spite of himself, his heart pounding against his ribs with the threat of breaking them, blood rushing in his ears like the sound of the tide. His vision began to tunnel, and the apprehension, the worry, vanished and gave way for excitement. He was fighting, and for all the horror of it, for all that death hung over his head in wait, it was beautiful. It was fun. He launched at Voldemort again, flinging his hand out to cast again, his sword raising at the same time. "Diruam!"

The Dark Lord dodged to the side, and his scimitar moved forward. The Dark Lord wasn't fast enough for that, and the blade sliced shallowly into his side, drawing first blood. Harry's other hand came at him, his claws snapping through the glamour, but a gust of wind blew him back. He dug his claws and the scimitar into the ground to stop himself from sliding back too far, and then he was weaving past spells again, circling Voldemort in an unpredictable way as he waited for another opening, his eyes glowing and his smile only widening as he completely forgot that anything but this fight existed at all. Right now, nothing else mattered but the joy of battle, and somewhere he thought he could hear drums.

Voldemort wasn't smiling anymore though, rather his face was contorted in rage. But Harry didn't care. He cast a few more spells at the man as he weaved. They were dodged with ease except for the last, which the Dark Lord used a shield for. The bright orange spell shattered against it and dispersed. He knew spells of that shade? He couldn't recall at the moment. If anyone were to ask him later what he had used he would not have been able to tell them.

He went at him again, using the same tactic, spell then sword, but Voldemort was ready for him this time, and rather than dodge the spell and be hit by the sword he shielded himself from them both. Harry might have wondered what shield he used, because it was stronger than any he himself knew, but the thought wouldn't come until later. His sword slammed against it, and then Voldemort sidestepped and dropped the shield. Harry's blade came towards empty ground, and, realising the goal, he moved to leap away at once, but wasn't in time. He didn't know what had hit him, but he was thrown far enough that he slammed into the shimmering shield that surrounded them, and somewhere along the line he lost his grip on his sword. It flew off somewhere, still inside the barrier, but he was more concerned with the pain he was in. Gods it hurt. Like a burn, but he couldn't smell burning flesh, so that wasn't it.

"You surprise me Potter. It seems you have improved." No spells came for him at once, so he righted himself and looked at the man. He could see the blood staining the Dark Lord's robes from the wound he had given him earlier, and it only made his ever-present grin grow wider. A touch to the pain on his own side proved he was bleeding too, the curse having been strong enough to cut through his armor, though he didn't dare look at it now to check the severity.

Voldemort's breathing was a bit deeper than before, a little more ragged. The banter now was to give himself a chance to catch his breath, but Harry needed it too and they both knew that, and knew that the other knew, so the teen didn't act right away. Instead he responded, barely having the presence of mind to form words through the haze of his battle lust.

"Of course I have. Did you think I ran away out of cowardice?" Voldemort smirked, and Harry pulled a bit of black hair from his face. Somewhere along the line the tie had snapped and it fell loosely about his face and shoulders now.

"It would have been the more intelligent thing to do, no matter the cowardice, but then you Gryffindors have never been known for your minds." Harry chuckled. He was enjoying this, surprisingly. Enjoying bantering with this madman, with his greatest enemy. Something in the back of his mind screamed that he had lost it, that something was wrong with him, but he silenced it. He was having fun.

"I suppose so, but then, I'm not really a Gryffindor." The area above the Dark Lord's eyes rose, as though he was raising his eyebrows in incredulity, but he had none to speak of. "No. The hat always did think I was a snake." He barely noted the expression of surprise on Voldemort's face, and then he was moving again, charging him, though more cautiously this time. Rather than dodge away or block a spell came at him, and he was back to moving about, now on all fours without his sword, avoiding them. He had had a chance to catch his breath though, and was no longer so worn down by it.

He barely ducked under a green light that might or might not have been the killing curse, and which made his hair stand on end. Joyous laughter filled the air as he only just avoided it, and he barely realized the laughter was his own. He moved on, and then headed at Voldemort again. The Dark Lord was grinning again, and he weaved under his next spell before he was upon him. He went to cast another shield, but Harry was still faster, and grasped hold of his wrist before he could. His other hand came forward, claws slicing through the glamour again and he slashed them into the man, digging deep into the wound he had made before and tearing. Voldemort's face twisted into one of pain and anger and then his wand lit up. Harry felt the fire magic before it came and jumped away, running about in a circle to avoid the whip of flame as it moved after him, and then it was gone, leaving the tips of his hair singed.

He heard Voldemort's ragged breathing, and saw the man was crouching. They both paused, Harry needing to catch his breath after the close call, and the Dark Lord needing the same after the wounding. He expected anger, but the laughter the man gave didn't unbalance him, even though it was a surprising reaction. It was crazed, insane, and Harry joined in it without thought.

"Incredible! Even Albus could not wound me so. You have grown, boy." He grinned. "It is such a shame you invoked the vow you did. You and I, we could have ruled the world together!" Harry grinned.

"Not really my thing unfortunately. Besides, you did kill my parents. I can't just forgive that you know." Voldemort's grin faded to a toothless smile.

"But of course. You are Gryffindor enough in that at least. Though not quite a sane one." He eyed Harry's face pointedly.

"I may not be sane, but neither are you." The killing curse was called, and he was rushed by green light, and with a dodge, it began again.

It continued like that, him mostly dodging as Voldemort called out spell after spell after spell, and occasionally attacking back, with his own spells, or his claws. Sometimes he hit, sometimes he didn't, and by the time he had found his sword again, and grasped hold of it, they both stopped again, both out of breath, both aware that this could not go on much longer, and both still grinning. Once he had tried to leap up the barrier like a wall, but could not.

He took stock of himself. His left leg ached terribly, and he was sure something had been done to the muscles there, if not the bone. The wound on his side was still bleeding. He was soaked with it, with that blood, and the coppery smell plugged his nose. Later it might sicken him, but now, still overcome by the madness induced by the battle, it only made something in him twist about gleefully. There were minor cuts and bruises all over his body, and a burn, or what he thought was a burn, on his back. He was glad, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he had worn only the armor and boots today. Sirius' jacket would likely have been left in tatters.

Voldemort didn't look any better than him. His robes were drenched with blood that made them look as though he had showered in it, there was a scratch along his jaw, from Harry's claws, and the arm that didn't hold his wand was limp at his side. Voldemort laughed.

"I haven't had so much fun in years." He confided, and Harry believed him, his face twisted up in malicious joy. Did his own face look like that? Something churned in his stomach at the thought, but he pushed the feeling away. It didn't matter right now.

"It's a thrill isn't it?" He offered. "If you live you should have fun like this more often." Voldemort gave a sharp but eager nod.

"I should. It would be difficult though, I should think, to find someone so enjoyable to fight. I regret that I will kill you today. You and I could have fought again like this." They both laughed at the wonderful thought. To be able to feel this bloodlusting happiness, this wonder born from the wish to cause death and the thought of your own hanging above you was incredible. In that moment Harry regretted the oath too. He would have enjoyed dragging this war out, just for the sake of facing the Dark Lord over and over again. Merlin it was such a rush. Unbidden, a thought came from the depths of his mind, only just cutting through the haze, and he couldn't resist asking.

"What do you think it would have been like, to be allies?" Voldemort's smile only grew, and he tipped his head to the side in thought, his eyes closing as he considered it.

"I think it would have been fun." He only just finished his answer before he gurgled, and his eyes shot open, because while he had been considering, Harry had come at him again, and burrowed his claws deep into the man's chest, slipping between two ribs. He could feel them, those ribs, the bones scraping against his wrist as his hand closed around Voldemort's heart. The organ beat faster, fluttering against his palms like a trapped bird.

"I think so too." He said, green eyes clashing with red before he clenched his hand into a fist, and watched the life in those bloody orbs petter away. They fell to the ground, Voldemort staring sightlessly upwards, and Harry on his knees. He pulled his hand out from his chest with a shlick sound, and in a whim, grasped the man's wand, staining the white wood with the owner's blood. The haze faded away, and the rest of the world rushed in. The barrier fell, the oath fulfilled, and for a moment, everything was silent.

Then sound came back to him, and he could hear yelling. Death Eaters were screaming, hollering, denying the defeat of their master. Harry growled deep in his throat, his blood still pumping, but then Mitera, who had been so silent before, was there; her presence slamming into him like a tidal wave. He gasped, the blood lust vanishing in an instant.

A spell came at him, and he just had the presence of mind to roll away, his wounds aching him terribly as he did so. He looked up, and saw the death eaters advancing, but he could hear his friends at his back, and there was a whoop as those on brooms made their presence known. He felt exhausted, his magic so small in that moment, but his sword was there, at his feet, and he picked it up and stood.

Then he charged.

The chaos reminded him a little of the Department of Mysteries. Colored lights flew every which way, lighting up the sky that had begun going dark so that he might have thought it was noon. HIs ears were assaulted by the sounds of spells, screams, and explosions. He moved quickly, his sword cleaving through bones and flesh as he dodged and ducked and rolled.

He heard one of the twins yell out in the way they did when someone fell for one of their pranks, and somewhere to his left there was an explosion of color and someone screamed. He grinned a bit, though he didn't have time to look at what they had done as another spell came at his head and he was forced to duck. He heard Moody cackling somewhere, and had a split second to wonder at how much fun he must be having, and then things were moving too fast to think.

He managed for some time, hardly aware of the faces around him through the pain and the noise. But his vision faded more and more, and as he took down a large dark haired man, the creeping blackness reared up alongside a spell that hit him in the back.

And he was gone.

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When he opened his eyes, he found himself in someplace rather different than what he had been expecting. He looked around himself, confused at the sight of this place. It looked, to him, like King's Cross, but everything was so pale, washed with white. He was sitting on a bench. Something made a noise, and caught his attention. There was another bench, not far from his, with a bundle of some sort beneath it. The bundle made a noise, and he would have moved to investigate it, but then a voice cut through his thoughts.

"I'd leave that alone if I were you Harry. There's nothing you can do for it." He froze, and then turned around, slowly, as though afraid of what he might find. A sob caught in his throat.

"Sirius." He breathed, hardly wanting to believe it.

But there he was, sitting right next to him on the bench, smiling at him. He looked younger, less tired, with less lines on his face. His eyes were clearer than Harry had ever seen them; he looked as though he had never stepped foot in Azkaban. He almost looked like a different person entirely. Yet there was that mischievous glint in his eyes that Harry so recognized.

"Hello son." Harry flung his arms around the man, something that made him chuckle. He held him tight, and when he finally pulled away a bit, some of his confusion had faded.

"I'm dead." He said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, and he was sure of it, because for the first time since he had connected to her, there was an empty place in the back of his mind where Mitera's presence should have been.

"Not quite." Sirius corrected, still smiling. "This place is a bit between the dead and the living. You're not quite either one at the moment."

"Oh." He bit his lip. "Does that mean I could go back?" Sirius' smile became gentler.

"If you wanted to." He thought about it, his brow scrunching up. He wanted to stay, he really really did, but- "Don't worry about it just yet kitten. We can chat for a bit, before you go." He met his father's eyes, and didn't question how the man had known what he would choose.

"Is it nice there?" He whispered the question, knowing the man would understand. Sirius grinned.

"Well, it's not so bad. I've got Prongs, and your mother, and Dumbledore there with me. But we're not going anywhere. We'll be here when you come along. When it's time for you to." Harry nodded, and a smile formed on his own face.

"I wanted to ask you..." He hesitated.

"About me and your mother?" Harry nodded, and Sirius shrugged.

"We didn't mean for it you know? It just sort of happened."

"You had an affair?" Sirius actually blushed, and Harry couldn't help but to stare, not quite able to remember a time when he had ever been embarrassed enough about something to do that.

"Um, well, an affair would imply we went behind old Prongs' back."

"You mean he knew about it?" Sirius coughed into his hand.

"Um, well, something like that yes. But that's not important right now!" His voice raised. and then he settled down. "All that matters kitten, is that you know we love you, all three of us. That's all that really matters in the end, you know?" And Harry smiled through his confusion, because, he supposed that it was. Besides, Sirius had made an implication of sorts that he wasn't too keen on reading further into.

"I know." Sirius smiled brightly at him, and then suddenly looked up, as though someone had called his name, but Harry had heard nothing, and there was no one there. HIs miled was a little more bittersweet when he looked back.

"I have to go now, Harry. There's someone else who needs to talk to you, and there's not a lot of time." Harry's heart panged, and he hugged Sirius. "I love you son."

"I love you too."

"Take care of yourself, and don't you ever feel guilty for making your own family. Just because we're not there, doesn't mean you should ever be alone. Tell Snivellus to eat something too. Lily says so." Harry chuckled. "I'll see you, one day, and it better not be until you're old and grey, you hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." He let Harry go. "Goodbye Harry."

"Goodbye." But Sirius was already gone. Harry closed his eyes, and wiped at the tears he felt travelling down his face. They weren't tears of sadness, not exactly. He was happy to have been given this chance. To speak to Sirius and tell him he loved him and say goodbye. It was so much more than most others ever got. "Thank you." He whispered, not sure who he was thanking, but feeling the need to express his gratitude all the same.

"You're welcome." He opened his eyes at the voice, having not really expected it, but he didn't really feel surprised either. A woman sat where Sirius had, her hands folded in her lap. Or at least, he believed she was a woman. She was pale as snow, her hair as white as her skin and hanging limply in her face. She was thin, like a skeleton, and her eyes held no pupils, no whites. They were a vibrant green, different from his own shade, with little glowing specks in them like stars. He thought of a forest, filled with fireflies. She wore black robes, or what he thought were robes, but could have been a dress, and she reminded him so much of the Alu. She and it could have come from the same place, with the similarities between them so pronounced, but he wasn't afraid of her. If anything, her presence was comforting, gentle and warm. She felt like Mitera to him, but not, all at once.

"Hello." He said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. Her thin mouth, there were no lips, tipped up at the edges in a small smile.

"Hello Harry."

"You have me at a disadvantage." Her smile grew a bit larger, perhaps in amusement, but it was impossible for him to properly see any emotion in those strange eyes.

"I am Hel."

"Hel?"

"Death, Harry. I am Death." He felt comforted by that, somehow. This was all so strange, but... He had already seen so many strange things in his life, that there was little left that had any hope of honestly shocking him. He was talking to Death...

"A pleasure to meet you then, but..."

"Why am I speaking to you?"

"Yea." She ran a hand, so thin it was like the hand of a skeleton, through his hair, and he leaned into it. He had seen Mum do something similar to Ron once. It certainly felt like a mother's gesture. It gave him comfort, and filled him with love, warming his heart, even though the hand was cold. Cold like a long-dead corpse.

"Because I wanted to. And because I needed to. Death is not always the same. There was a Death before me, and one before him, and one day, I will be gone and there will be another Death. Nothing can escape Death, not even Death itself." He listened to her words, accepting them no matter how confusing they were to him. What was the purpose of telling him this? It was interesting though, so he listened silently. "The Death that came before me, once created three things, when he was near his own death, and gave them to your people. Whoever should possess them all, and be accepted by them, would become Master over Death." Something like dread filled his stomach.

"Three things?"

"A wand of power, a stone of resurrection, and a cloak of hidden sight." He thought of his invisibility cloak, and Dumbledore's wand, and the feeling in him intensified. But the stone... He had no stone, unless... He looked at the band of stones, still present on his wrist and Death shook her head. "No Harry. The stone of the ring, the one which was tainted." He closed his eyes, remembering the horcrux Dumbledore had entrusted him after removing the piece of soul in it. The strange black stone with the crack down the center. His shoulders slumped and his mouth went dry.

"What," He licked his lips. "What does this mean... For me?" She made a soft sound, that could have been a whistle or a hum.

"To have a Master does not impede me, but it is a comforting thing to possess. It is helpful, to me... Nothing escapes Death, and one day, I will take you too." The dread faded, and he was thankful for it. The thought of being immortal, to Harry, was absolutely horrifying. Hel continued. "This is the first time I have had a Master though, and I am... Hesitant, to let such a thing pass. I will keep you safe, and well, until such a time as you have earned the right to cast off your title, and then I will let you grow old, and take you in your sleep when it is time."

"When I've earned the right? What," He took a breath. "What do I have to do for that?"

"I will ask a favor of you, a task, and should you complete it for me, I will gladly take back the hallows and leave you mortal, if that is your wish."

"What favor?"

"Do not trouble yourself with it just yet child. Continue to live as you please, and I will come to you when the time is right." He sighed, but nodded, and her smile widened again.

"You will be a good Master, for the short time that you are." Even without knowing what came with the title, and what to expect, he still felt pride bloom in his chest. Death itself, felt he was a good choice, so even if the thought of being stuck with it for now bothered him greatly, he would do his best. Hel kissed his forehead, and he closed his eyes, feeling a contentment as she did so.

"It is time to go home now Harry. We will meet again."

And, as before, the world faded to black.

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When he awoke again, he was almost tempted to call what he had seen, what had happened, a dream. But he knew it was not. His body felt sore, very sore, and he could feel Mitera again. But she was busy, tending to the rest of the world, and though she sent him comfort, she left him be. He let his eyes open slowly, and saw the dark stone above him that he had come to recognize well. He was back in Bogdon. What was he doing here?

"We brought you back." He jumped. He hadn't realized he had asked aloud, and he turned to see Muhammad sitting in a chair at his bedside. He could smell smoke off him, but he had no cigarette now. Likely he had just finished smoking one.

"Why?"

"Because all hell broke loose." He frowned. What? Muhammad sighed, and explained. "I don't know what happened when you fought big bald and ugly, or what you said, because none of us could hear anything outside of that barrier. But you looked insane Harry. You were smiling, and laughing, and you talked to him. People freaked out. Those Order guys were fine, I think some of them knew whatever was going on, but the Aurors that were with us started talking like you were evil or something."

Harry swallowed. He remembered now, the way he had felt and acted while he was fighting Voldemort. He had... He had enjoyed it. It reminded him of when he had fought Bellatrix, and he felt a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes and fought it down, and Mitera's presence grew more prominent in an effort to help him. What the hell had happened to him? He didn't have time to dwell on it though. There were more important things to worry about now.

"What happened to everyone else?"

"Everyone's fine. There were some minor injuries, but no one on our side was killed. The castle people did really good, and a lot of the guys who came outside surrendered after the barrier fell, so the ones who fought were outnumbered. The Aurors took the ones that made it, and the ones who surrendered, prisoner. Some of them got away, but everyone else is locked in a cell somewhere while they get the trials in order." Harry nodded. That was good, and with any luck those trials would be fair enough for the people forced into things to get away from time in Azkaban. He hoped.

"Good." Muhammad sighed, and ran a hand over his shaved skull. "What happened to Nagini?"

"The snake?" Harry nodded. "Dead. I don't know for sure who got to her, but they burned the body with that bald bastard's, so..." He shrugged, and Harry relaxed. It was well and truly over then... "Most people didn't see what happened in the battle, so they don't know how crazy you went. They're calling you a hero, ya know. But the people who saw... Well, there's some nasty rumors spreading around, so it'd probably be better to lay low for awhile." Harry nodded. That didn't sound half bad anyways. "Sev said it would take a couple days for you to get your strength back," Harry blinked. Sev? "but what do you want to do after that? We could stay here I guess..." Harry shook his head.

"I was thinking of travelling for a while." He really wanted to get away from here. "If you and Severus wanted to come with me."

"Of course. Who knows what sort of trouble you'd get yourself into if you were left on your own." He looked up at the voice, finding Severus himself coming into their makeshift infirmary, a few vials of potions on his arms that Harry would doubtlessly be forced to drink. He smiled and looked to Muhammad.

"Why not? It'd be nice to see more of the world than just desert and snow." And even though he made it seem like he wasn't very excited, Harry still grinned broadly, because finally, finally, it was over. There was no more war, and he could do what he wanted, and he wouldn't be alone.

He could live now.

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I rewrote parts of this chapter like five or six times, because I could never be satisfied with it. This is the closest version I came to what I had aimed for, so it's the one you all end up with. I don't know what all it was about this chapter that was so difficult. I think if might have been the combination of not wanting to drag the HP plot out longer, being impatient to get closer to the Avengers, and, feeling like Voldemort has, at some point here, moved from a truly frightening villain, to an almost obligatory one.

All the same, I'm fine with how this turned out, so I can move onto continuing to write Part Four (which actually had an entire chapter and a half get scrapped when I went back and read through it, because it was that terrible). With any luck (and plenty of the usage of my free time) I'll be able to get started on Part Five before I start updating again, so that when Part Four ends, you'll only have a week and a half to two week break between them.

I'll see you all soon.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate