Harry's senses had been overwhelmed by the entire experience. It was something that he'd seen coming, with the injection of power enough to override his usual bodily and mental functions. With three people and two Tardises becoming an intrinsic part of his very being, it was an expected development that he'd lose the concept of himself in the process. It was like being part of a choir. If there were thousands of people to compete with, then your voice was always going to be drowned out.

It meant that, once that experience came to an end, it was an exceedingly pleasant experience. It was a freedom that Harry hadn't necessarily believed would be granted to him, steadily thinking that the process would rob him of his autonomy. The blissful sense of nothingness was sweeter than anything he'd ever been put through before, and the sheer quiet of the new setting was something he could have grown used to. Especially when compared to the unrelenting noise of their combined pure magic.

It begged the question, however, as to what his new setting actually was and why he'd travelled to some other location in the first place. It took a certain level of strength - which Harry hadn't even expected to possess, thanks to what he'd just been put through - to open his eyes. In the end, it was a decision that he wished he hadn't come to, seeing as he was met with an unnervingly endless white void. The Tardis wasn't the gloomiest of places, but it was relatively dull compared to the blinding nature of Harry's new surroundings.

Surroundings that didn't make sense.

Except they did, if you followed one daunting line of reasoning.

Harry had made it to the afterlife. They'd known that there was a large risk involved in their scheme, that there was a distinct possibility that he wouldn't survive the ordeal. They'd ultimately taken that gamble, knowing that, if the horcrux stayed inside him, then he would definitely have to die in order to bring about the demise of Voldemort. It wasn't the best set of options in the world, but it was the only one that had been afforded to Harry. And he was used to dealing with a rough hand.

He'd never explicitly believe in an afterlife, nor had he ever spoken about it. It wasn't something that you could naturally fit into casual conversation. When they spoke about his direct link to the next realm, in the form of his parents, it was always done in terms of how they'd lived, rather than what fate had been waiting for him. It was strange how intimately Harry had been connected to death without ever outright discussing the topic. But the evidence before him couldn't be ignored.

When people spoke about whatever came next, they usually referred to a bright light that signalled the end of your time on Earth. The strange, ominous setting certainly fit that bill. Not trusting his body to cooperate, Harry took his first initial steps cautiously, as if he were worried that the ground would give way as soon as he moved. It wasn't an unreasonable conclusion to come to, given the fact that there didn't seem to be any ground to begin with. The realm didn't make sense, though he guessed that was par for the course when he was in a different reality.

Was he okay with dying? It wasn't the sort of question that anyone wanted to face, particularly at such a tender age. Harry supposed it was a dilemma that he should have figured out before it truly mattered, seeing as every point in his life had seemingly been leading up to this fate. There was a subtle dose of relief, safe in the knowledge at long last that he was no longer required to fight. The pressure that came with protecting the rest of society was longer sitting upon his shoulders, and he felt considerably lighter as a result.

Though that may have had something to do with the floating sensation that came with being inside the void.

Any positivity he might have been feeling was completely overpowered, however, by the gutting sense of loss Harry was now having to process. If his assumptions were correct, then he was never going to see his friends and family again. He would never share a laugh with Matthew. He would never get to listen to one of Hermione's impassioned speeches. He would never get to build upon whatever had been brewing between him and Enola. He would never get to grow even closer to Sirius and Lupin and experience the life they were building together.

"Will you stop panicking? Please? You're starting to give me a headache, and it's been a long time since I experienced one of those?"

It was understandable that Harry jumped as the new voice entered the fray. It was also a good thing that he didn't just float away, with the unpredictable nature of the void. It should have been an impossible feat to sneak up on another person, since there was nowhere to hide and nothing else to occupy Harry's attention. And yet the woman now acting as his sole companion had managed exactly that, looking at him with a cocked head akin to a puppy being told a new instruction.

He'd been told in the past that it was never a good idea to guess a woman's age, but Harry would have put the woman in her late thirties, or maybe early forties. Her brown hair was ever so slightly curled, matching Enola's in terms of colour and length rather than Hermione's. The most striking part about the woman was the clothes she'd chosen to wear. Harry was sure that he was hallucinating, as the regal robes of red and robe didn't make much sense, even in their magical society.

And that was saying a lot, given what wizards and witches tended to wear.

Despite the increasing strangeness of the situation, Harry could only smile at the woman's words, which probably wasn't the reaction she'd been looking for. A part of that was down to the simple fact that he was no longer alone, although he was yet to find out what her intentions were. But the main reason for his smirk was the words she'd spoken, so strikingly similar to the way Matthew had first greeted him all those years ago at King's Cross. But the reminder of his friend soon brought about a resulting wave of sadness as he contended with the implication that they would never be reunited.

"All those thoughts," the woman murmured. "You never stop, do you?"

"You…you can hear what I'm thinking?"

She made a point of glancing around their surroundings. "Given where we are and everything that you've been put through, is that really the thing you're most surprised about?"

"I don't even know where we are to begin with. Or who you are, for that matter."

"Who do you think I am? I thought it would be obvious."

Her voice was painfully familiar, despite the fact that he couldn't place it. It wasn't as if her face was helping in terms of recognition, for she was just as much of a stranger as someone walking past him on the street. The woman was softly spoken, sharing similar traits with Hermione's voice. Was that why it was scratching a certain itch in his head? Was he somehow talking to an older version of his friend? Was he being confronted with a distorted version of his future, to show him what he was going to miss out on?

Because, as much as the woman's voice was new to him, the way she spoke wasn't. There were constant questions being posed to him. There was an endless curiosity shining through, matched by the brightness of the woman's brown eyes. She looked at him as if she were waiting patiently for him to figure out the puzzle, just as his friend would sit and watch as he attempted to put a reasoned essay together. He almost didn't want to be right in the conclusions he was drawing, for what it would mean for him going forward.

"Hermione?"

The woman frowned. "Guess again. Though I am flattered by the comparison. She's a remarkable individual, one who's very close to my heart."

That stumped Harry, seeing as he'd been certain that he'd figured it out. And he didn't know what to make of the claim that the woman was somehow close to his friend. He had the distinct feeling of being tested, which wasn't an entirely unusual predicament to find himself in, thanks to the company he tended to keep. But, for some reason or another, he found himself wanting to impress the stranger and stumbling over his words wasn't really going to accomplish that.

Following the woman's example, Harry looked at the void once more, finding it just as much of a daunting prospect as before. He considered his own thoughts before concerning the afterlife, and how the setting seemed to match the few descriptions he'd been given. He appreciated the glamorous and regal clothes that his companion was sporting, and came to the only logical conclusion that he had available to him. Even if it made him believe that he'd gone completely and irreversible mad.

Not that there was much change there.

"Are you…God?"

Much like the afterlife, Harry had never really taken the time to question whether he believed in an almighty power. He still didn't know where he stood, despite the fact that the deity was potentially staring at him now. So much had gone wrong in his life that there was no room for faith that someone was looking out for him from high above. But then he had been given so many people who cared for him, which was more than some were able to claim. It meant that the ensuing conversation was going to be a difficult and awkward one.

The woman rolled her eyes. "For all the time I've known you, Harry, I've always thought you were a bright boy. Someone worth looking out for. Why are you letting me down when we finally get a chance to be face to face?"

"I…I think you're going to have to spell it out for me."

"I'm the Tardis!"

"...the Tardis."

Having previously pondered whether his sanity was still intact, Harry had been given his answer. He'd utterly and irreversibly gone over the edge. He'd lost his marbles. His brain was playing up in one final act of stubborn resistance. Going through the traumatic event of fighting the horcrux, his subconscious was obviously taking pity on him. It was giving him a pleasant experience as his body slowly succumbed to the aftershocks, presenting him with a woman who claimed to be the blue box he'd just been standing in.

It really raised concerns about his overactive imagination.

"Well, to put it more accurately, I'm a manifestation of the Tardis. A user face, I suppose. This conversation will be tricky enough as it is and, if you had to communicate with me in my true form, it might have pushed you over the edge." She twirled on the spot slightly. "What do you think? I chose this look for you. Something human. Something rather attractive, wouldn't you say?"

Frankly, Harry didn't have a clue as to how he could possibly respond. It did answer a few of his earlier queries, such as why the woman had been talking so very much like Matthew during their initial meeting or why she so closely followed those traits he'd grown used to. His friend had constantly been caught talking to the Tardis, so it stood to reason that there was something there to respond. A soul. A heart. By connecting himself to the ship, had Harry indirectly caused this strange meeting?

"Matthew is always banging on about how gorgeous I am, so who am I to argue against that?" she pressed on.

"He also said that you have an ego."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you trying to make a point?"

"I don't think I'm in the best position to be annoying you."

"That's a policy you should follow all the time, not just when we're talking to each other. I once saw you wipe your muddy shoes on my floor. I'm not the sort of transdimensional construct to forget that sort of slight. Seeing as I can't physically forget anything. My memory banks are very advanced."

"It's…really you, isn't it?"

"Did you doubt me? What do you make of my get-up? I don't really know what people tend to wear and I've never had the opportunity to have clothes of my own, so I thought I'd go for something lavish."

"Yeah…um…you look great. It's just…how is this possible?"

"I'm just that brilliant. Surely you must be used to that by now. I've helped save you and your friends plenty of times."

"You're just as cocky as Matthew. You're a perfect match for each other."

"Thank you. But, in all seriousness, it's only fair that I give you the answers to your most pressing questions. Firstly, as to how we're communicating, you were directly connected to my power source. My heart, for lack of a better term. You were absorbed so completely by the pure magic that you've reached another stream of consciousness, allowing us to have this chat. Right now, I'm acting as a shield. If your mind and body remained connected through the process, it's entirely possible that the former would be ripped apart whilst the latter waged its war against the horcrux living inside you."

"So you…are basically shrouding me in your magic…to protect me?"

"Like a blanket keeping the cold from biting at your toes. Separating your mind - temporarily, I might add - means there's less risk involved in what is already a rather risky endeavour."

"Does this mean that it's working? Are we defeating the horcrux?"

"That's a difficult question to answer, personally."

"Why?"

"The present tense. Or all tenses, for that matter. At my core, I'm a temporal being, Harry. I operate outside the normal boundaries of time. I don't view events in a linear pattern. I find it all very confusing, in all honesty. Everything and nothing is happening all at once. The past, the present and the future are all the same for me."

Harry resisted the urge to sigh, knowing that he should have been grateful for the opportunity he was being given. There were plenty of people he knew who would have bitten off his hand to have a chance to talk to the Tardis, and they would have beaten him with sticks if he dared complain about her behaviour. He just wished that one part of the whole ordeal was simple. Was that too much to ask? Again, the Tardis was just like her owner, in that she could never give a straight answer.

"If you can see into the future, does that mean you know what's going to happen? With…everything?"

"It does."

"Including whether we beat Voldemort? Let alone destroy his horcruxes?"

"Yes."

"But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

She smiled sadly. "At long last, you're finally using that brain I know you possess. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, seeing as your mind has been put through a lot."

"Do you know what's going to happen to Matthew?"
It probably wasn't an appropriate topic to bring up. He'd been warned that a calm and composed mind would be needed to survive the process and, though they hadn't foreseen the Tardis getting involved in such a way, Harry didn't want to risk exposing himself. And there was every chance that the question would anger the one person who was apparently keeping him alive. Judging by the way her face fell, it had obviously hit close to him.

"I could sense straight away that my future self was now in my present, which proves just how pointless tenses truly are."

"You could intervene! You could stop all that from happening!"

"The fact that I haven't surely proves that I can't, don't you think? If I could save Matthew…if I could save myself…then I would with little thought. But there is an established pattern in the flow of time. As a temporal being, I'd be betraying my very nature by going against that. There are set moments in history that can't be tampered with. Moments very much unlike the one we're facing together."

"What do you mean?"

Harry knew what the Tardis was doing. Of course he did. Largely because it was a tactic that was repeatedly used by Matthew whenever the topic of conversation grew difficult. She was diverting them away from a discussion she didn't want to have. She was dangling a carrot in front of him, a juicy piece of information that he couldn't possibly resist. Having grown used to the way Matthew operated, Harry would have liked it if he'd been able to put up a stronger fight. But the desire to satisfy his curiosity was too much to overlook.

"Right now, you're at a crossroads, Harry. This is what this place truly is - a place for you to make a decision. There are two possible results of the excruciating pain your body is currently going through, regardless of whether you're actually being permitted to feel that for yourself. You either succumb to the pressure and die…or you decide to keep on fighting."

Harry could understand why Matthew was so deeply in love with the Tardis, even if the other boy had never been granted the privilege of seeing her in this form. She didn't mince her words. She didn't skirt away from the issue at the heart of the matter, in that his life was on the line. There was a weight and sternness to her voice that made her sound authoritative and in command, which explained why Harry was dutifully nodding his head as she spoke.

"That doesn't just refer to fighting against the horcrux," the Tardis explained. "Believe it or not, but that's the easy part. Do you really think a sliver of Tom Riddle's soul would be enough to pose me a problem? Or that it would be enough to contend with the force of my partner, who Matthew has connected me with? Destroying the horcrux isn't about the level of power you have on your side, Harry, not this time. Because, on this occasion, the horcrux is a part of you. It has shaped you over the years, no matter how little you'll want to hear that. You've got to make the choice to lose that part of you. That's the one thing I can't do on your behalf."

"Well, it's an easy choice, isn't it?"

She held up a wary hand. "Perhaps. But you've got to consider that that horcrux provides you with a direct connection to Voldemort. You can understand his emotions and feelings through the horcrux. You can use the very fact that it exists to stop him from killing you."

"But we wouldn't be able to kill him if the horcrux still exists. That overrides everything else."

There was a warm glow, a flash to one side. It was hard to ignore when the rest of the space had been so blank up to that point. He followed the Tardis' line of sight to look upon a twisted figure, a hideous, groaning monster that was the same size as a baby, but was too elongated and bony to be considered human. It was awful to look at, the sort of thing that you wanted to avert your gaze from, but your mind kept you staring for some perverse reason.

"What is that thing?" Harry asked, scrunching up his nose, though he kept stepping towards it.

"Don't you recognise it? It's the very thing that you've been fighting against."

"The horcrux?"

"A visual representation of the horcrux, to be precise. Humans are always so literal."

"It's horrid."

"And it's weak. Look at it. It can't survive without its host. It has been reduced to this pitiful mess because you're disowning it, for lack of a better term. This should prove to you beyond all reasonable doubt that you're stronger than your enemy, Harry. This is the summation of Voldemort's so-called power, whilst you still have so much more to offer."

"You said it's a representation of the horcrux. That you're a manifestation of the Tardis. And that my subconscious is being manipulated to save me. Does…does that mean that none of this is actually happening? Is it all just happening in my head?"

"Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry. But why does that have to mean that it's not real?"

He should have expected a confusing answer, seeing as the Tardis wasn't making any of this easy for him. But then, if she was currently protecting him from the onslaught, then he couldn't in good conscience hold a grudge against her. And it was a nice sentiment to cling onto. How many times had he conjured up false images of his parents in his head, a fake reality where they'd all lived happily together? It was nice to know that those memories didn't have to necessarily be wrong.

Harry's wand was in his hand, though he couldn't remember clutching it beforehand or bringing it out from his pocket. It showed yet again that the void wasn't dictated by the normal set of rules and laws. It also showed him what he was being led to do, with his feet still dragging him closer to the writhing creature that had caused him so much pain. Pain he hadn't even known was there. Pain that he'd grown used to. Pain that symbolised the loss of his parents, which had resulted in the horcrux forever being tethered to his very being.

Until now.

"It's only right that you have the final blow," the Tardis reasoned, standing next to him as a guiding and comforting presence.

"How do I do it?"

"Haven't the others already shown you the path to take? Pure magic has always been the key? A small injection of your power will finally complete the circuit. And you'll be free."

"You know, there's a very real possibility that you're just a construct in my head. I could be dead already."

"Then you have nothing left to lose."

Harry had to agree with that sentiment, strengthening his grip on the wand. "Thank you, by the way. I don't think I'll ever get the chance to say that to you again. As much as I've enjoyed your company, I won't be in a rush to go through all this again. Thank you for always being there. We wouldn't be alive without you."

"I wouldn't be alive without all of you."

"I feel as if I should be repaying you, more than just a simple thanks."

"We've already accounted for the fact that I'm a space-time machine that goes beyond all normal physics and natural law. I'm above needing repayment."

"Obviously."

"But…I suppose you could say hello to Matthew for me. All those years together and I've never had the chance to say that. It'll do him good to hear it."

xxxxxxxxxx

He gasped, clutching his chest as a reflex. His heart felt like it was going to come loose with how rapidly it was thundering. His eyes had instinctively opened, which brought an end to the painful brightness of the white expanse. He was on the floor, a stark change from how he'd been floating just before, and the console room was looking down at him. It was a much warmer environment to find himself in, with the Tardis welcoming him softly just as she'd bid him farewell a second ago.

It would take quite a while for him to wrap his head around those complexities, and his brain wasn't exactly at its sharpest for the time being. He'd spoken to the Tardis. Or an imagined version of said ship. It almost didn't matter whether he'd come up with the visage of the kind, beautiful woman with the fanciful clothes. She'd served her purpose. She'd guided him when he'd been on the brink of being lost. If the air he was now breathing in was real, then surely that meant the job was done.

"Harry!"

The second confirmation he received that he'd come back to the land of the living was the sound of Hermione's voice, quickly followed by the sight of her head hanging over, her bushy hair obscuring the rest of the room. For once, she was making a concerted effort not to squeeze him gently. It suggested that he must have looked incredibly weak and fragile, as if any extreme contact would see him shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. With the way he was currently feeling, he was fairly sure that was the case.

"Are you okay?" Hermione practically screeched, working at a volume that was remarkably painful after the unnerving quiet he'd just been enveloped by.

"I…think so?" he managed to reply, batting himself down to make sure that all his body parts were intact. "What happened?"

"It was like you were possessed. Your eyes…they basically rolled into the back of your head, glowing with magic. Then you started floating…"

"Until you weren't," Matthew added. "Everything…switched off, I suppose. We all got the sense that there was nothing left for us to do. You were unconscious on the ground, which will probably account for the lump no doubt forming on the back of your head."

"We…we thought…well, we don't need to go into detail as to what we were thinking as you were lying there."

"How long was I out for?" Harry wondered.

It was strange. He had no idea about how long he'd been speaking to the Tardis. The conversation simultaneously felt impossibly quick, whilst also having lasted a lifetime. Judging from the pale faces of his friends, it had been a considerable wait for him to wake up. Perhaps that proved that the interaction had been a dream after all, with the laws of time never being a factor as soon as you entered the realm of sleep.

"Long enough for us to worry."

He felt a new presence enter the mix, someone daring to hold his hand. Hermione shifted slightly to one side to allow Enola to come into view, who smiled down at the prone boy. Unlike the other guy, she'd been brave enough to initiate contact, as if she understood that Harry would be strong enough to cope. The simple touch was enough to draw him further back to reality, like his entire body was being re-energised by Enola's mere presence.

"What was it like for you?" she asked. "What did you see?"

"Well…um…I saw the Tardis."

"That's not much of a surprise," Matthew reasoned. "That connection you shared would have been enough to create a particular set of images. Symbolising the different sets of power running through you at the time."

"But…she was a…woman."

"A woman?"

"Like a…normal looking woman. She claimed it made it easier for us to talk. She wanted to say hello, by the way."

"You had a proper conversation with the Tardis?"

"She explained everything that was going on. How her and the other Tardis were creating a protective shield around my mind, to give me a fighting chance. She was the one who told me what I had to do to survive."
"What did she look like?"

Harry glanced at his other friend. "At first, I thought it was an older version of Hermione. Though she had shorter hair."

"Maybe she was influenced by one of the few women she's been able to draw inspiration on."

Matthew was standing by the console, his hand placed softly against the controls. He was looking up at the central column in an almost longing fashion, as if he was trying to coax the Tardis into taking on that form again. Perhaps he wanted to hear what her voice was like for himself, something Harry would never be able to sufficiently describe. He felt bad, in all honesty, that he'd been the one to have the experience, as if that conversation was owed to Matthew.

Though Harry knew that his friend would never have wanted to switch positions, given the set of circumstances that had led to the meeting.

Matthew turned his attention back to Harry. "Is it wrong to say that I'm jealous?"

Harry tried to sit up, but was stopped by two strong arms from both Enola and Hermione. "I'd be surprised if you weren't."

"How are you feeling?" Enola asked. "Any different?"

"If you're wanting to know whether I can sense the horcrux being gone, then I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"There's no need," she said, closing her eyes. "As you know, I'm blessed with feeling people's auras. The horcrux was screaming at me when we first met. But now…it's quiet."

Hermione was practically shaking. "Does that mean it worked?"

"In my head, I was made to kill this…thing that was supposedly the horcrux," Harry explained. "I think that was when I knew it was safe to wake up."

He felt lighter, even if there was no marked change in his appearance. It was as if there'd been a cloud hanging over him for all these years, one that he'd constantly ignored because the truth of its presence hurt too much. There was a calm in his chest, his breaths coming easier, and he might have cried in sweet relief if he hadn't been so focused on not embarrassing himself in front of Enola.

"It worked," Harry sighed happily. "It worked, I know it. You…you all did it. Thank you. You put so much on the line."

"And we'd gladly do it again," Enola promised.

Harry was clutching both their hands, the two young women in his life crouching either side of him. Matthew, however, was hanging back, though his focus was no longer on Harry. He was instead watching Enola like a hawk, an unreadable look in his eyes. Harry had imagined that it would be a time for celebration, where they would all dance along the path back to Hogwarts and party into the night. Matthew, it seemed, had other ideas.

And, based on previous examples, that was never good news for Harry.