Kraftaverkin gerast enn… Nýr kafli!
Njótið vel…

“Now, that, Neville is a story too long to tell, just now. I’m in a bit of a hurry. But to sum it up real nice: I died, and then came back. That should be enough for now. How’ve you been?”
“Fine, considering.” Neville answered after a while. Harry back from the dead… Neville had never heard of such a thing, but then again, this was Harry Potter, and the rules did not seem to apply when it came to him.
“Look, Harry. There’s something you should know… Harry… the Weasley’s are…”
“Dead, I know. I saw them on my way back. Didn’t get a chance to speak with them, though.” Neville’s jaw dropped, seeing Harry’s reactions. He had imagined Harry to be angry, crazed even, but he seemed oddly calm about the whole thing.
“You’re not angry? Sad?” Harry looked at him, his eyes drilling into Neville’s. They held like that for a moment, then, Neville’s eyes went wide. What he saw in Harry’s eyes was the stuff of nightmares. He was seeing flashes of Harry’s adventures, him killing other people, almost dying when he took the potion, and many other things. He hadn’t noticed that he’d fallen onto the chair again, staring into space.
“Neville?” Harry shook his friend’s shoulder. But Neville’s reactions were not what he had expected. Neville jerked his shoulder out of Harry’s reach, jumping out of his chair, and drawing his wand. Harry was lost.
“What’s wrong with you, Neville?” Neville didn’t answer. Instead, he attacked Harry.
“Expelliarmus!” Harry’s wand flew from it’s holster, while Harry just looked at Neville, wide eyed. What the hell?
“Neville? What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? It’s me, Harry!”
“No, you’re not Harry. Harry Potter would not kill anyone. He would not.” Harry grimaced.
“I didn’t like it, Neville, but, trust me, I always gave them a chance to walk away. But sadly, they rarely did. Hang on… How the hell did you know I killed anyone? I didn’t tell you. Did you speak to Seamus?”
“No, I saw it in your eyes. It was like watching the telly, or better yet, like looking into a pensieve.” Hmmm? Must’ve slipped Auriel’s mind. God damned fairies!
“That’s inconvenient, not being able to look people in the eyes.”
“Don’t min’ that ‘Arry, “ Hagrid said. “Time’s come to take action! Ending this ruddy war!” Neville nodded, and Harry just shrugged.
“I s’pose you’re right, I must do it sooner or later.” Then suddenly Harry’s back arched, and he let out a low groan of pain. He sank to his knees, his eyes looking straight forward, not seeing.

“We move soon, Wormtail, and the rest of you. Get yourselves ready. My informant tells me they have been busy making the school into a fortress of some kind. Not that it matters, but I’d hate to waste any more manpower that I must. Ah, Nagini, you are hungry, are you not? Well, you shall have your fill with that one!” Voldemort´s gaze shifted and fell on a man in the deep blue colours of the Aurors.
As Voldemort left, and Harry’s mind was free from it’s lock, but the man’s tortured screams still lingered in his head. Harry’s eyes came into focus, and he stood up quickly. He snatched his mug from the table, and sent it flying over the room, where it shattered on the wall.
“God damn it! I swear I will kill that son of a bitch!” And without a word, Harry stormed out onto the grounds, and walked towards the castle. He came to a halt good hundred yards away, felling protective charms in the air. He quickly analyzed them, and without further hesitation, he crossed them. The path towards the two-winged doors that led into the castle had changed dramatically since last he saw it. Now it had changed into a corridor that five grown men could walk side by side. And by the walls on each side there were both statues, and empty suits of armour. And as soon as Harry went past the charms, the objects leaped into motion, and flanked him. Harry snapped out his swords, and readied himself.
“Flank him, men!” Came a shout.
Harry then noticed the painting of a knight, over the doors. The fact the painting was there did not in it self surprise Harry. What did surprise him though was the fact that the knight in it actually sat upon his horse, and shouted orders like he knew exactly what he was doing. In fact it surprised Harry so much he gawked and almost forgot about his present predicament.

Then he laughed a little.

“Well. At least, he’s not guarding the Gryffindor common room.” Harry muttered to himself. And Harry stood proudly before the painting.
“State you business, stranger, or be on your way!” The knight shouted, waving his sword around. Harry considered giving him some snappy comment but decided against it. It would only make things harder. The knights stubborn pride would see to that. And besides, when it came to making plans for their defence, the knight’s experience would be crucial. So, Harry went on, playing nice.
“I, good sir knight Cadogan am but a road weary warrior, hoping for a night’s stay in exchange for his efforts on your side in the war.” The knight snorted loudly, eyeing him.
“Hah! What lowly try, dog! Why in the nine hells should I let you in here?” He started to tell his “men” to grab Harry.
“Because I am Harry Potter.” The knight stared for good ten seconds before he shouted out again;
“What filthy lies! To dishonour the memory of a good man and a fine warrior!” Suddenly the door arched open, and a man came out.
“What is going…” The man’s jaw dropped open. Kingsley?
“Kingsley? Is that you?” Harry asked. The man just kept staring at Harry.
“Hey, there, Kingsley, you OK? It’s me. Harry Potter, sir. I’ve come to help you, and I bring valuable information.” Shacklebolt shook his head.
“You may look like Harry Potter, but the boy is dead.” Harry nodded.
“You know, people keep telling me things I already know. Like about me being dead. I died. ME. One can’t miss it. Really.” The dark skinned man eyed Harry warily. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Ok. Fetch Hermione, please. She’ll know how to find out if it’s me or not.” Kingsley nodded, and disappeared for a moment or two. Then, he emerged from the door again, Hermione accompanying him.
“Hi, ‘Mione. Care to let me in? I’ve been standing here for ages, and it’s a bit chilly out.” Hermione stood wide-eyed in the doorway, not moving. Harry became uneasy. This was not like Hermione; she was never rendered speechless. But, then again, she had never seen someone come back from the dead.
“Hermione, are you alright? You seem uneasy. It’s me, Harry.” Still no response.
“Ok, this is how it works: you ask me something only I, you or Ron would know, and if I know of what it is you speak, you’ll know it’s me.” This seemed to unlock Hermione’s mind, and the usual thinking twinkle returned to her eyes.
“How do I know you’re not under the Imperious?” Harry tilted his head a little, arching an eye-brow.
“You know full well I can repel it. Even when Voldemort casts it at me. And, before you ask, he’s not in my mind. It is sealed of, a wall.”
“Fine. I shall ask.” For a few minutes, Hermione pondered on what she could ask Harry, and finally, she nodded to herself. Harry readied himself.
“What did the three of us land on after we got past Fluffy, and through the trapdoor in our first year?” Harry smiled, and even chuckled a little.
“Easy. We landed on a Devil’s snare. Ron and I panicked, and you remembered that it fears light, which you were at first unable to create, because apparently you didn’t have any kindling. Then, Ron, being Ron shouted at you, and kindly reminded you…” Harry was stopped short by Hermione’s bone-crushing hug. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Oh, Harry! Where’ve you been? I thought you had died.” Harry smiled.
“I did. I came back just an hour ago, or so.” Hermione released Harry, and looked at him sceptically. She started to shake her head, but Harry held up his hand, cutting her short.
“Hermione, you can’t always explain everything with proofs and literal evidence. Look. I am here. I died. And I can prove it to you. You have read about a soulgaze, have you not?” Hermione nodded.
“But it’s just a myth. It isn’t real.” Harry snorted, and rolled his eyes. He reached out, took Hermione’s hands in his, and locked his eyes with hers. He felt the connection, and so, apparently did she, because she had the same damn look on her face as had Neville. When the gaze was over, she fainted, but Harry grabbed her. He beckoned to one of the men next to Kingsley to take her. When the man was gone, Harry walked indoors with Shacklebolt.
“Welcome back.” They shook hands. Kingsley nodded.
“Good, strong shake.” Harry shrugged one shoulder.
“Look, Kingsley, there are matters of which we must speak.” Harry took a look around.
“Where is everybody?”
“It’s very late, Potter. At this hour, one can assume other people to be asleep.” Harry nodded.
“So… Is this still a school, or is it merely a haven for people seeking shelter?”
“Both. We try to teach those underage, and the others just are here, so to speak.” Again Harry nodded. It made perfect sense to be using the castle as a place for people to scared to face what was out there. But keeping so many people at one place also presented a big danger.
“So, how fare our alliances?” Kingsley sat down at a table, motioning for Harry to sit opposite him.
“The werewolves are on our side, hiding in the mountains. Snape came here few weeks past, and explained to me what he was doing, and I believed him. The Centaurs are still patrolling the forest, and apparently the Merepeople are guarding Black lake. Your work, I presume.”
“Yeah, well, except for the Merepeople. I had nothing to do with that, but I believe their queen was on good terms with Dumbledore, so it makes some sense that she’d take up the fight on our side. And besides, it serves her clan better to have us “reigning “ than Voldemort, giving his love for humanoids and half-breeds.” Shacklebolt nodded his accord. The boy’s line of reasoning seemed sound enough.
“But how about the vampires? What are they doing?”
“No word. We have heard rumours that Shadowstalker has been killed, but this remains speculative information.”
“Well, I can save you the trouble of finding out. I know who killed him.” Kingsley arched an eyebrow.
“You are looking at him. I did him the same night I took Gryffindor’s sword from your office. Right here, in the forest.” When Kingsley started to ask Harry about it, Harry merely slipped his swords from his back, handing them over to him. Kingsley took them, and examined them.
“Magnificent craftsmanship.” He handed the weapons over to Harry.
“Magnificent indeed. So, you are here to help with the fight, are you not?” Harry stood up, stretching comfortably.
“Yes, I am. But I have something to do first. I do not like not knowing what the vampires are doing, and I intend to find out. You know the general location of their stronghold?”

With fresh information from Kingsley, Harry set out to find the vampires den. For two days he flew without rest, and on the morrow of the third day, he touched down in a isolated dale. A castle sat on a high hill, the morning sun’s rays illuminating the December snow. Harry huddled against a tree trunk, rubbing his hands together. There would be hours before darkness fell, but he wanted the vampires to feel as if they had a slight advantage, and so he waited. But he kept himself busy. By noon, he took out a big, white hankie out of his pocket, held it towards the sun by two corners, making sure it was almost completely bathed in sunlight. He then uttered a little spell, folded it together, and stored it in his pocket once more.

The sun sat six hours later, and Harry was freezing his arse off, but as he ran up the valley with towards the castle, the heat returned to his body, and he felt as good as ever. He noticed bats flying in and out of the castle, and he was happy to notice that more were leaving than coming. By the time he reached the gate, the moon had risen, bathing the whole place in it’s ghostly light. A guard appeared from a little shack next to it.
“Leave. You are not announced, and the duchess does not see unannounced guests.” Harry smiled, keeping his cool.
“I do not think I shall need a further announcement than this,” Harry said, handing the man Shadowstalker’s sword. The man did not seem to recognise the sword.
“Please bring this to the lady, and tell her I only wish to speak, and that I swear by my life that I shall not make a move against her, or any of her house unless provoked. Understand?” The man nodded.

Duchess Mariana stared at the sword for a long moment, not believing her own eyes. Her lord’s bane was at her gates, offering no threat, but only came to talk. This might just work in her favour.
“Send him in, please.”
Harry entered the castle, and was shown into a room, it’s high walls lined with books, and scrolls. Harry killed time by examining the various titles in the shelves. Then, he heard the door open, and he turned to find a servant standing by the door. Fashionably late. Then Duchess Mariana entered the room. Woah. An old world woman. Manners, Potter, manners. Flattery, the works. She was wearing a 16th century dress, wide skirt, and tight waist, and the breasts thrushed together by a tightly tied corset. She stood just inside the door, when the servant excused himself, and left with a low bow. Harry stepped in front of her, mimicked the servant’s bow, then taking one gloved hand in his own, and kissing it ever so lightly. He rose again, and stepped back.
“Milady Mariana, I, Harry Potter thank you dearly for seeing me on such short notice. I had heard rumours that you were beautiful, but I daresay they were wrong: you look positively stunning ” If the fact that Harry Potter was in her house surprised her, the lady showed no sign of it. But flashed Harry a brief smile, following his comment. Mariana walked towards a big desk in the centre of the room. Harry grabbed the chair.
“Please, allow me.” He pulled the chair back just enough for the lady to sit. Harry rounded the table, and waited for her to motioning him to sit down. She did at long last, and Harry sat down.
“What, mister Potter brings you to my castle this evening?” Harry knew she knew the answer to the question, but decided to play her little game a while longer.
“The war, madame, the war against Voldemort.” The vampire arched a dark eyebrow.
“I wish to know on whose side you are, or will be once the final battle commences. I am certain you can understand that one must have all angels covered when making preparations for the defence against an enemy such as Voldemort.” The lady nodded.
“Quite correct. I assure you that we will side with no one. We will only do what is the most beneficial to us. That will be revealed in time.” It made perfect sense. And Harry could, of course understand. Voldemort hated half-breeds, and wizards hated and feared the vampires.
“I could, perhaps speak on your behalf after the war. If you side with us, that is.” Intrigued, Mariana motioned for Harry to continue.
“But that would mean, you’d have to stop your praying upon humans, and turn to lifestock, perhaps breed your own down in the valley.” The lady frowned, and started to speak, but Harry raised a hand, interupting her:
“I’m sorry, but if I may? I know that vampires prefer human blood, but can survive drinking the blood of animals. I know this is much to ask, I am asking you to change the way you have lived for many hundreds of years, but I think you must admit it to be a better choice than ally with Voldemort, who will betray you, and exterminate you once he doesn’t need you any more.” She knew he was right, of course, but her anger ran too deep for her to let him go. She wanted him dead, and he had walked right to her. She smiled wickedly.
“I am sorry, master Potter, but I see an alternative. I bring you to Voldemort, and he leaves us alone. I am most inclined to try that course of action. You did, after all murder my lord and lover. And I cannot afford to make and example of you by letting you leave. I must remain strong.” And as if on cue, three huge vampires rushed through the door, attempting to grab Harry. He jumped out of the chair, and crouched low.
“I am sorry you did not see reason. I now have but one choice. He jumped over the three men, and darted out of the room, and entered the foray, but the hall was quickly massed with vampires, murder gleaming in their eyes. The ones on the right parted, to allow Mariana to come forth.
“Do not make it harder than it needs to be, young Harry. I’d rather not hurt you.”
“Heh, that’s a laugh if ever I had one!” Harry pulled the hankie out of his pocket, and presented it in his open palm.
“Do you know what this is?”
“This would be a white hankerchief.”
“Indeed, it is. But before I use it, I am giving you one more chance of surrender, or at least reconsider your choice.”
“You fool boy! What will a white hankie do to us?” Harry smirked.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And Harry unfolded it quickly, and what happened was quite spectacular. The room was suddenly bathed in sunlight, eliminating every vampire in the room, cries of agony, and death could be heard, but Harry paid it no heed, for he was fast flying away, rushing back to Hogwarts.

“I failed, Shacklebolt. They wouldn’t listen. So I think we must teach people to fight the damn things. I’ll start tomorrow.” Harry had come back, and again it was in the middle of the night.
“Agreed. But you do realise that you coming forth will raise many questions. People do, after all think you’re dead.”
“Well, they’ll just have to deal with it, don't they?”

The following morning, Harry woke up, and put on his shirt, and trousers. No need for armor or weapons in here. He did his morning exercises and exited the room. He walked down the crowded corridors, making his way to the staff lounge. Not one noticed who he was, but then again, Harry was an expert in not being noticed. When he was at the door of the staff room, it opened, and Minerva Macgonagall almost ran him over.
“I trust you’re not late, professor Macgonagall.” She looked up, and the blood drained from her face as she saw who it was. She staggered back a little, and Harry squeezed past her, and into the room. The rest of the teachers reacted the same way. Here we go again… And for the second time in as many days, Harry recited his story.
“…And that’s what happened the day after last, the vampires tried to kidnap me, but I think I hit them pretty hard. And that is why I want everyone in the great hall by nine o’clock, I want to teach them how to fight vampires…”

Harry stood at the stage in the Great Hall by nine o’clock, waiting for the crowd to gather, and after 15 minutes, he decided most were gathered. He heard faint whispers in the crowd, hearing his name every now and then. He cleared his throat. No one paid him any heed.
“Shut up!” The shout silenced everyone. All eyes remained on him.
“I am Harry Potter.” A gasp from all present.
“I will not waste any time explaining why I am here. I was dead, but now I’m back. That will have to do for now.” Then he noticed Rita Skeeter making her way into the front.
“You will not get a single word out of me, you yellow press second-rater!” Harry growled at her, and the intensity of Harry’s voice made her stop dead in her tracks.
“You may wonder why I asked you to gather here, and I’ll tell you why: The vampires have turned against us, and we must prepare ourselves against them!” The people were dumbfounded, staring at Harry.
“I know you’re scared, but that is the vampires best weapon. We must learn to fight our fears. If you listen to what I have to say, you’ll do fine.” The crowd calmed.
“Now, who can tell me how we kill vampires?”
“Stake through the heart!” Someone shouted.
“Silver!”
“Holy water!”
“Sunlight!”
“Garlic!”
“A symbol of faith!” Harry nodded.
“Yeah, you know this. In fact everyone knows this, but there are some things we can cross of that list now. The stake. Most of the people in this room are not strong enough to use the stake, to penetrate the vamp’s body. Then the silver, we haven’t got enough. But the rest should be fairly easy. Like with garlic, we can get that from every grocery store.” Harry pointed at a bowl on the table.
“This here in the bowl is Holy water. I want all of you to come here, and dip your wands in it. I’ll go first.” Harry did, and everyone followed suit.
“Now your wands are blessed. But what good is that? You all know the water spell, right? Ok, good. You perform the spell, and squirt the water onto the vampires, and it dies. The wands are blessed, and so should the water that comes from them. And now the symbol of faith. Anyone got a crucifix?” Harry was handed one.
“You see, the most common mistake people make in the art of vampire fighting is the symbol of faith. Somehow, people always think it must be a religious symbol, like the crucifix. But they are wrong. It doesn’t have to be a cross, but simply something you have faith in.” A loud buzz of talk erupted. Harry raised a hand, and the hall silenced once more.
“Believing in the divine is one thing, but having faith in it is something different entirely. I, for example could hold this thing in front of me, and it would do as much good as having a flower in my hands. I may believe in the Almighty, but I find my faith in him lacking. But if I were to raise my wand against a vampire, it would probably stop dead in it’s tracks. I have complete faith in magic, and the wand represents that faith. And please don’t think showing a vampire your symbol of faith, and expect it to die, because it won’t. It won’t. It will simply be held at bay while you find another way of finishing it. And about the sunlight: we can assume they will attack us in the night, when they do not have to worry about the sun skewering them. I, however know of a way we can change that. Find yourselves a white piece of cloth, a hankie, if you can, and bring it out and face the sun. Hold it in a way that it is fully covered in the sun’s light, and point your wand to the hankie, and recite the words accendo accendere. That way, you can store two second’s worth of sunlight in you pocket. Now, I advise you to practice this well, and spend much time doing so!” And with that, Harry left the hall.

Hermione made her way towards the room of requirements, where she knew Harry might be. She’d been looking for him for a while, but hadn’t found him. She was in deep thought, and didn’t even notice when she was by the door. She knocked slightly, then entered. She saw Harry standing in the middle of the room, his head bowed, palms clasped together, as if he were praying. Nine combat dummies were positioned around him in a circle. Hermione eyed Harry closely wondering what in earth he was doing. For five minutes Harry stood like this, and Hermione didn’t stand it any more. Harry Potter was not a person for such deep concentration, at least when it had nothing what so ever to do with flying.
“Hem,hem.” Hermione cleared her throat.
“Sush!” Harry said, throwing her a slightly unnerving look. Then suddenly, Harry thrust forward with his right fist, shouting: “Volucris chalybs!” And Hermione watched in awe as nine swords appeared out of thin air, floating around Harry in a protective circle, constantly moving, their tips pointing down. Then Harry flicked his wrist, and all swords went vertical, spinning, tips pointing out, and with another flick, they all impaled themselves in the dummies, some even forcing their way through them, and banging into the wall. And with that, they disappeared. Harry smirked, satisfied. He turned to regard Hermione.
“Hey,” he said, sitting down on a soft cushion. Hermione did likewise.
“A bit of rude of you to leave them like this back there, Harry,” Hermione said sternly. Harry smiled.
“I know, but I’m not much of a lecturer, Hermione. You know that. I always get embarrassed after a while, and besides, they all got it, I think.” Hermione shrugged. They sat in silence for a while, and Harry saw from Hermione’s troubled face, that she still had something important to tell him.
“What’s troubling you Hermione? What aren’t you telling me?” Hermione stole a quick glance at Harry, a kind of a wary look.
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I shouldn’t bother you with it. Really it’s okay.” Harry shook his head slowly.
“Hermione, I know you better than this. I know when something is bothering you. Please tell me. I’m there for you, you know, always have been, and always will be.” As soon as those words left Harry’s lips, he knew he had erred, said the worst thing he could have. And as if on cue, Hermione reached out, and slapped him in the face, an angry glint in her eyes.
“Been here for me? For us? I should think not! Where have you been for the last two years? Where? Fighting evil? You said you’d take Ron and myself with you! Why didn’t you? Why? You left us, Harry Potter. Left us hanging, never even bothering to tell us where you were. Not even to tell us you were alive! And don’t you tell me it might have been too dangerous. If you truly had wanted to contact us, you would have.” Hermione put her hands in her hips, scowling furiously. Harry was in deep trouble, he knew. And he also knew Hermione was absolutely right. He’d been an ass, but for a good reason.
“I know I should have contacted you, Hermione, I know. I wanted to, I really did, but somehow, I never knew what to say. I guess I was afraid. Afraid of what you guys might say. And then there is the fact that you would have been killed if you had been with me. Hell, I did die.” Hermione leaned forward, hugging Harry.
“We would never have judged you Harry. You know that. This is just who you are, and always will be.” She let go, and Harry smiled sadly.
“And what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about? The ‘nothing’?” Hermione shrugged, and turned to leave, but Harry took her hand in his.
“Your magic is gone, isn’t it, Hermione?” The young woman stopped dead in her tracks, looking at Harry wide eyed.
“I have keen senses, ‘Mione, and I have known since I came here.”
“You’re not surprised?” Harry shrugged.
“Not really. Traumatizing events can do that to wizards. Like seeing loved ones die, having an accident. Sometimes the shock is so great that the body taps into one’s magical supplies, just in an effort to survive. You know, people, muggles come out of a car crash in one piece, not a mark on them, but once they see that their spouse is dead, they go into shock. The veins in the body widen dangerously, and the heart races to keep up with the increased blood flow, and people die of heart attack, unless some can help them, keeping the person’s legs elevated, and so on. You know this, right?” Hermione nodded, and Harry continued.
“When a wizard has a similar experience, our bodies tend to act quite differently. In some extreme cases, the body, in a desperate attempt to stay alive, draws energy from the very essence of a wizards magical power, makes it flow through the body, keeping most vital organs operative. They teach you this in Healing?” Hermione shook her head. Harry was surprised by this.
“Then you can’t know that once or twice the body has been known to utterly deplete the person’s source of magic.” Hermione stared in horror at Harry. She had lost her magic forever? That couldn’t be! Harry noticed the look on Hermione’s face.
“But I think yours will come back in time.” Harry lay a hand on Hermione’s belly, and pressed slightly.
“Can you feel a slight tingling sensation? As if something is crawling inside you stomach, and it’s spreading through your body?” Hermione nodded.
“It’s almost to my chest. I started to feel it the morning after Ron’s funeral.”
“Oh, good. I guess that means your magic is returning. Give it couple more months, and you should be able to use the most simplest of spells. You see, Hermione, here at Hogwarts, we are, or were not only learning about magic, or magical theory. We were also training ourselves. Wizards live for a very long time, Hermione. Do you know why?” Hermione nodded, thinking hard.
“It has something to do with magic, but the scholars do not know what. At least not yet.” Harry pursed his lips.
“Muggles have the average live span of let’s say 65-75 years. You can multiply that number by three when speaking about wizards. Why, some people ask themselves, and I can answer that question; our magic sustains us. The more experienced the wizard, the longer the live span. Take Dumbledore for example, a man of many years. Impossibly old, actually. And why? Because, he spent his life discovering new spells, charms, every one more powerful than the previous one. And what’s more, he used them, kept his magic in shape.” Hermione just stared.
“But what about Voldemort, couldn’t he have done just that?” Harry nodded.
“Oh, he could have, but you must understand Voldemort, Hermione. He’ll never settle for second best. Even though wizards live for a long, long time, nature always has it’s way. Be it a human, house elf, goblins, we all die… Eventually. And that, Hermione is the only solid, written to stone fact in this life. We may deny it all we can, but in the end, we are all en route to the same place. And so we must choose what we do with the time that has been given to us. Do we spend it in despair, awaiting our end? Or do we make the most of it? It is for us to decide, and us only.” Hermione smirked mischiefiously eyeing Harry, who arched an eye brow.
“What?” His friend let out a little laugh.
“When did you get inflicted with Dumbledore sickness? You’re turning into quite the sage Harry!” Harry scowled fiercely, but Hermione saw the smile in his eyes…

That afternoon, Harry walked into the Great Hall, approached the Slytherin table. Scanning it, he saw Pansy Parkinson talking loudly with her friends as if this were a normal school day. Harry snorted loudly. He walked towards her, but she seemed to engrossed in her conversation to notice him. He cleared his throat, laying a hand on her shoulder.
“What!” She turned her head, and when she saw who it was holding her shoulder, she blanched visibly, but regained her arrogant posture quickly. Has to keep her face around her friends, does she? Well, she could use losing some… Pansy attempted to shrug her shoulder free, as if Harry was not worthy of her voice. Harry held on. When she failed doing that, she sat herself straight, and said, all arrogance:
“Do not touch me, mudblood!” Harry merely smiled. This should be fun.
“Stand up, please, ms Parkinson.” He deliberately made his voice sound like that of a teacher who’d tried to explain something to a pupil with a soft brain. That only enraged her further.
“Do NOT speak to me like that, you filth!” Harry still held that small, but patronizing smile.
“Now, now, little Pansy, there’s no need for shouting, now is there?¨ Pansy’s eyes were bulging so hard that Harry made a mental note to be quick if he had to catch them before they hit the dirty floor. Pansy drew her wand, but Harry grabbed her arm, twisted slightly, taking the wand, tucking it in his pocket. His face was grim now.
“Come with me. Now. If you refuse, I’ll throw you into the Forbidden Forest, and you’ll be wishing you’d gone with me two seconds in, don’t you doubt.” She hesitantly got on her feet, and Harry beckoned her forward. He ushered her onwards.

Few minutes later, they entered the Room of requirements. Once there, Harry pointed to a stool in the centre of the room.
“After all that trouble, you’re wanting me to sit down again.” She said mockingly. Harry shrugged.
“I don’t care what you do. I’m going to sit down.” She arched an eyebrow at him, then sat down opposite Harry. The it began. Pansy sat on the other side of a plain, wooden table, Harry on the other, and he stared at her. Just stared. Usually she wouldn’t have mind if someone was looking at her. She was a good-looking woman after all, but this was Harry Potter, not some random guy. And besides that, he was looking at her as if he was trying to read her mind. But she did not mean to give in. He would be the one to break the silence, not her, so she sat on the other side, examining her nails, twisting her hair and other things. But after three hours of Harry’s unblinking stare, (she could have sworn that he did not blink once!) she had had enough.
“What do you want from me?” She shouted at him, fury shining in her eyes. Harry stretched comfortably, crossing his hands on his chest.
“Why did you do it? Glory? Hatred for muggles and the like, or simply fear?” She simply looked at him, questioningly.
“What do you mean?” She said. Bloody hell, he knows! Suddenly Harry reached forward, snatched her left arm, pulling her sleeve back, and wouldn’t you know it; a black snake sticking out of a skull was there, pitch black. Harry pushed her back with a disgusted snort.
“Do not play dumb with me, you bitch. You’ve been leaking information to Voldemort for weeks, and I mean to find out exactly how much you’ve told him.” Pansy looked at him, then laughed darkly, or at least that was what it was meant to sound like, but it came out more like a nervous chuckle.
“It does not matter, filth! No one stands up The…” Harry interrupted her:
“… The great Lord of the Dark? Oh, for the love of g… You people are dysfunctional.” He took her arm again, removing the mark from it completely. Pansy stared in utter shock.
“Put it back! Put it back!” Harry smiled darkly, and Pansy was taken aback at just how dark it really was. That smile could have made the Dark lord proud.
“I can’t. It’s been removed completely, and cannot ever be put on you again.” Well, Harry didn’t know wether it could be branded on her again or not, but she didn’t either, and Harry didn’t see why he should inform her of that.
“Looks like you’ve just been ousted from your little club, and I doubt Voldie will take you back once he finds out you’re missing your mark. It’s all rocks and hard places for you now, isn’t it? Well, boo, fucking hoo. Looks like you’d best talk, Pansy. If you want to stay alive, that is.” Pansy sobbed and began to pour it all out…

“He knows all? All!” Kingsley dropped in his chair, a look of utter defeat on his face. Harry nodded gravely. Neville, Hermione, and a few others blanched So did the teachers present.
“Looks like Pansy did her best.” Kingsley rubbed his face. Tired. So tired.
“But look on the bright side, Kingsley; Voldemort does not know of our progress since I arrived, and he doesn’t even know I rose from the grave. And he has also lost the advantage of surprise. Now we have but a few hours ‘till he comes, so I suggest we start making plans.” They all nodded their accord.
“Ok, we know they’ll come flying, because it is the only way to get near the castle. The Centaurs hold the forest, the werewolves guard the mountains, and the merepeople stand vigil in the lake. Seems we’re well set on those fronts. We will keep with the original battle plan, locking the young and really old people in the dormitories, McGonagall, Sprout, Slughorn and Flitwick guarding each one, but I’d like to add a couple of Aurors in each one, just in case. Now I’ll be at the front, Hermione you’ll be in the “war room” with Kingsley. You all know the original plan. Nut I must ask leave to alter it a little bit, taking Neville, Hannah, Susan, Luna, Ernie, Seamus and Dean with me. Are you all right with that, Kingsley?”
“Sure, Harry. What ever you say.” Harry eyed the Headmaster , but led the six out of the room. A while later, he stopped in an empty corridor, facing the six.
“What I’m going to ask you to do will be the most dangerous thing you have and will ever do in your life. Are you ready to face what comes your way?” They all nodded, Ernie supplying a loud “Yes, sir!” It was hard for Harry not to roll his eyes.
“Now, I must draw Voldemort to me on the battlefield. I am counting on his arrogance that he may take Nagini, his snake with him. Can all of you make and hold an invisibility spell?” A unified nod followed Harry’s question.
“Good, good. Once we are out onto the field, you will make yourselves invisible, and follow me. Once you see Voldemort, four of you will spread out and ready an anti apparition spell. Repeat after me: Commoror. You must get the rhythm of the word correctly.” They repeated the word over and over again until Harry was satisfied.
“Good job. This spell will be hard to hold, but I am counting on you; Dean, Seamus, Hannah and Ernie. They all seemed to inflate with pride at being chosen for such an important task. Harry just smiled reassuringly.
“You got it? Good. Neville and Luna, your task is no less important. I need you to do something that’s highly illegal, and may even lead to a trial, but the desperate times demand desperate measures. Right? I need you to draw out my magic, and Voldemort’s and store it in your wands until I am finished with him.” A look of utter shock found it’s way onto their faces.
“Is that even possible?” Neville blurted out.
“Oh, yes it’s possible, but the spell is long since lost, and not even Voldemort knows of it or he surely would have had used it. When I have killed the snake you utter the words Duco clepere magia! But you must wait until I kill the snake. You must!” They nodded.
“Killing the snake is crucial. If I don’t get the chance, we’re bloody lost! Now, you should get ready, they’ll be here soon enough.” Nodding, the pair of them left Harry alone in the corridor, and Harry left for the Great Hall, where Aurors were in full force making preparations, unfolding a huge white sheet. Harry laid a hand on one of the man’s shoulders.
“For the door?” He nodded.
“What’s your name, man?”
“Jameson.” Nodding, Harry clasped Jameson’s shoulder just a little tighter. He hadn’t thought of that himself.
“Good thinking, Jameson, keep it up!” Everywhere Harry looked, people were busy, preparing either the castle or themselves.

Later, when the sun had sunken below the horizon, Harry sat alone on the top of the North tower, watching the surroundings, eyes and mind alert. This was it. He could feel Voldemort draw closer. The hairs on the back of his head were dancing tango. Should go and write the letter… He went down to an empty office, sat down, and wrote a letter, explaining all the promises he had given to various factions, that he had not given them lightly, and he meant to see them through, but if the worst should happen… Then a thunder shook the castle on its foundations, Harry barely catching the ink bottle before its contents were spilled all over the document. Bloody, dramatic idiot! He dried the parchment, rolled it up and sped towards the Great Hall. On the way, he met Neville and Hermione.
“Harry! Everyone’s in a panic, not one person aside the teachers have their wits about them! Come on, hurry, you must get them to calm down.” Without saying a word, Harry sped by them, rounding a corner, and entered the hall. It seems Hermione had been right, there was no such thing as order in the hall. Minerva was up on the stage trying feebly to calm everyone down, with the other teachers scurrying among the crowd stilling one person at a time. This will not do… Harry jumped onto the nearest table, and thundered:
“EVERYONE WILL SHUT UP, OR I SWEAR ON MY MOTHER’S GRAVE THAT I’LL KILL YOU LOT MYSELF AND SPARE VOLDEMORT THE TROUBLE!” That set them back on their heels, faces shocked to the point of outrage.
“Listen to me! I know you’re afraid. And if you have a slight wit in that head of yours, you should be shaking in your boots! Only a fool is not afraid when confronted by what we are this night.” The talk had died down, most people listening intently.
“You’re not scared, are you Potter?” Asked one man hopefully.
“I’m scared shitless.” That comment brought a loud buzz from the people, some even staring at Harry, eyes wide.
“But, you see, fear can be used to our advantage, if, and only if you can master it. You remember the way Fudge reacted to the news of Voldemort's return? Denial is a dangerous thing indeed. I doubt we would be in such trouble if the minister had in fact heeded the advice of Dumbledore. A wise man said once that fear can make people do terrible things, even kill. I am certain that many, if not most of Voldemort’s followers are behind him merely because fear drove them to it. So there’ll be no killing, and no useless violence. I know it will be hard, but if we do it that way, how are we different from them? Submit to fear and you’ll be utterly useless. Voldemort is the kind of foe that likes to win his battles before they even begin, by driving fear into the hearts of those who oppose him. But will we submit to it? NO! We’ll turn his age old tactic, his overconfidence against him. Underestimating your opponent can, and usually leads to failure, and/or death. Why do you think I lived as long I did? The answers is simple: Tom Riddle did not believe a whelp such as myself could stand against him. His arrogance led to his fall. I assume he does still retain his air of confidence, but you can never know… Give them hell!” His last words were followed by a thunderous applause and shouts of: Potter! Potter!… Some people… He jumped down from there, and was immediately confronted by Fudge and Umbridge.
“Quite the speech you gave there, boy,” Fudge sneered. “I would have thought you had more respect for your elders!” Harry looked at him, then seized the collar of his shirt, heaved him up by the neck and glowered into Fudge’s eyes.
“My respect is earned, not given, Fudge. You are not worthy of my respect, or anyone’s. So you mind getting out of my way?” He threw the older man from his grip, and attempted to continue on his way, but was confronted by Dolores Umbridge.
“Respect the minister, you filthy little boy!” Harry laughed ruefully.
“Ex minister, todie. Now, leave me be, bitch!” The crestfallen look on her face was all that Harry needed to crack up as he made his way towards the room where the battle plans were being laid out.
“News?” Harry asked simply. Kingsley nodded.
“It’s the vampires and the dementors. I am afraid that we will have to open the doors, Harry. Otherwise we won’t be able to fight the damn things.” Harry nodded grimly.
“We’ll need to do that. I’ll invite them in. Are all the “heads” in their dormitories?”
“Yes, they went as soon as the attack started.” Hermione said anxiously.
“Ok everyone. To your stations! Inside the hallways! Now! We’ll have to open the doors now, so be ready! We do not want a siege on our hands here, we won’t last. They’re many, so make every spell count!” Harry slowly walked towards the doors, taking deep, calming breaths. He motioned to the one’s closest to the doors to come over.
“We’ll have to open the doors. Now, I’m counting on Voldemort to have the vampires act as pawns, send them in first, then the Dementors. You have to let as many as you can enter the hall before you drop the sheet, okay? I’ll use my sword to cut down as many as I can in the doorway, but I’ll slowly give ground, and signal you. Do not panic, panic, and we’re lost!” The pair nodded, grim determination replaced fear. Harry clasped their shoulders tightly. He drew his swords, and opened the doors. What he saw almost made him lose his resolve. Their numbers were overwhelming. But if their plan worked, they’d be able to cut a deep gash into their enemy’s ranks. A red-eyed devil stood in front of the door, spittle streaming down it’s chin.
“Hi, there, whitey. You expecting someone?” The hissed something uncomprehending and rushed the door, with wide eyed fury. Blue flame evaporated it’s arms, and it shot back, howling with pain.
“Woah, back up there, Sparky. You don’t have an invitation to the ball. It’s a private party. At least right now, and…”
“Silence!” A slender woman hissed.
“We don’t have time for this, boy. Stop delaying the inevitable, and embrace death!” Harry donned a look that seemed offended.
“Now that was just rude, but what the hell. It’s getting kind of lonely in here… Please, by all means enter!” The doors flew open and in two seconds, ten vampires lay dying on the floor, Harry moving in a blur in their midst. Twenty, twenty five. But finally, he gave ground, luring them in. Hundreds swept inside, the vast majority of the vampire hoard. Idiots!
“NOW!” The sheet fell abruptly, and every vampire in the hall fell screaming to the ground, dying. The floor was heavy set with vampire-dust, the feet of hundreds of witches and wizards kicking it up, making it into some sort of a mist.

Voldemort watched in horror as someone hacked down dozens of vampires in the doorway. Not that the hellish creatures had any sentimental value, but a general always disliked losing men. Finally the man disappeared into the castle, but no sooner, almost every vampire rushed into the hall, and a few seconds later, every window was covered in a blinding light, screams of agony following. Daylight in a cloth? Clever. He hated to admit it, but that had been a clever move; luring them in, and killing most of them with minimal effort. He had not presumed anyone knowing the spell, let alone taking the risk of filling the hall with vampires. He had underestimated the enemy. Only a fool underestimated his enemy, it was deadly. At a signal from him the Dementors began their assault…

Harry cried out, calling the people back into the Hall.
“This is it, people! Now we take the battle to the enemy! He has been way too sure of himself this time, and we are going the show him the error of his ways!” With a huge, inhuman roar, Harry charged out of the castle, cape billowing behind him. And after him the rest came, screaming the names of fallen kin, or just screaming. Out they went, and the sky turned silvery with the various forms of Patronuses shot from wands, in Harry’s case from the palm of his hand. It took mere minutes, and then the creatures were in fast retreat, Harry still leading the charge forward, not slowing down even a bit as the Stag killed Dementor after Dementor. Harry laughed furiously, his little group shadowing him.
“Great one, Neville!” He shouted as Neville took down a particularly nasty one. And then it was done. Every single Dementor dead, or chased off. Harry smiled roughly. He turned around, eyed the people behind him, then turned around, and saw Voldemort back where he was, safely behind rows of Death eaters.
"Voldemort! Come and face me like a man! Or better yet, surrender! You’re almost out of pawns! Come on! You and me, no one else! You think you’ve a chance against us? Look what we did to your Vampires? And the soul-suckers? You want us to wipe out the people with you?” No response.

Voldemort stared in horror as Harry Potter led the charge against the Dementors, the boy killing dozens of the things himself, and he was alone, not one of his usual group behind him. What magic was this? The boy was dead, and this was not a ghost, he was sure of it. Ghosts, of course had a very limited chance of changing a thing in the physical world. And yet, here he was, back from the dead. And he dared to speak of surrender! Voldmort did not surrender! He would rather have every last Death Eater die on the battlefield rather than surrendering. And Potter smiled. He smiled!

“Fine! Since you won’t answer, perhaps they will!” Harry shouted. “Death eaters! The one’s who join us, or leave, will be pardoned! On my honour!” A few people shifted their feet, but no one dared to go, to leave. What if Voldemort won? They’d die for certain. He’d kill them himself.
“Bloody rattle brained fools, they are! Ok, there’ll be no killing on our half, understand!” A loud collective shout rose from Harry’s force.
“Let’s have at it!” The charge was on, wizards met wizards, and witches met witches. And somewhere far off, creature met creature. This was an all-out battle for the ages, the lives of many, many future generations rested on the shoulders of those brave warriors as the two armies clashed, and beams of every colour filled the sky, and shouts of latin filled the air. Harry travelled the field, taking down more than a few Death eaters himself, but most of all his eyes were on the man standing a couple hundred feet away. And then he was there, facing Voldemort. Again. And the snake was there, slithering on the ground, hissing loudly. Harry thrushed his fist forward, and the swords appeared around him, in a perfect circle.
“Now!” Harry yelled. Voldemort threw Harry a dirty look, mixed with aprehension.
“So… Returned even from death, Potter? Quite the achievement, though I am loathed to admit it!” Harry merely smiled sarcastically.
“So, you’ll stop now? I beat you! I cheated death, were you almost failed, became a simple spirit, lower than even the smallest and weakest ghosts!”
“My goals have developed over the years, Potter.”
“I tire of this chatter…” Harry said, and with that, the swords rushed forwards and impaled the snake, who was, surprisingly taken off guard. Voldmort’s eyes followed the swords and a look of complete terror painted his face.
“Hah! You’re done, Voldemort! Now it’s just you and me!”
“How so? Potter?” Harry almost gaped, but regained his posture presently. And laughed.
“”No more Horcruxes! Just me, and you, the last part of your soul. I’ve destroyed the other ones, the snake was the last one.” Harry’s enemy’s eyes widened at that, and he even took a step back, but recovered almost instantly.
“Have you, now. How sad that it is not true, for I stored one within your own soul, Potter. How will you get rid of that one?” Harry’s jaw actually dropped. He was a Horcrux, his very soul? How could it be? But perhaps… Yes, it must have been!
“Not anymore, Voldemort. I died, remember, and so did everything in me. The Horcrux is still on the other side, I’m afraid. So, it’s still just you and me.” The strikken look on Voldemort’s face showed Harry that his nemesis was terryfied. He was just beginning to realize that he was in fact just as mortal as anyone else, and to Harry’s expectations, Voldemort tried to apparate away.
“That won’t work, Voldemort. We are currently inside a non-apparating zone, so you’re stuck here. And I must confess, that ever since I took up the sword, I’ve been wondering how good you’re at melee. And then Harry felt the slightest tingle.
“Protego,” he whispered.
“Melee? Why would I fight like a dirty muggle? I’ve magic! Crucio!” Nothing happened.
“Played you again, didn’t I Tom? Our magic has been drawn from us, stored in a wand somewhere. You and me. You and me…” And with that, Harry drew Gryffindor’s sword and charged right in at Voldemort, who suddenly had a sword in his hands, a giant serpent engraved onto the blade, it’s hilt embedded with emeralds. Neither warrior noticed the cessation of fighting, or that all combatants had gathered around to watch the fight between good and evil. The sound of steel smashing into steel was almost like a constant roar of a thunder. Every once in a while, there’d be a hiss or a lion’s roar from the weapons, the lion facing off against the serpent. As were the men themselves. Agile, quick, almost inhumanly quick and graceful. What Harry lacked in grace, he made up with pure furiousness, and skill. Each combatant danced the forms with the look of seasoned blade-masters, every parry and counter perfect. Despite that fact, a grunt escaped their lips every now and then when they nicked each other with the tips of the swords. After a few hours (the sun was rising beyond the horizon) Harry and Voldemort locked swords, both breathing heavily, and looked at each other with new level of respect. By the most part, Voldemort eyed Harry with a new understanding.
“This will get us nowhere, Potter. There’s no use continuing this. Just give up, and give me the muggles and mudbloods, and we’ll call it a day? What say you?” Harry’s eyes flew open, and he lost his head. He threw himself at Voldemort in what seemed a savage fury. Then Harry jerked straight, and his eyes were bulging as Voldemort’s sword entered his chest, and exited through his back. And Voldemort laughed like a maniac.
“You fool! Always you let your emotions control you! What a fighter you would have been if not for useless sentiments.” Silence had fallen on Hogwarts grounds as Harry sank down, clasping Voldemort’s robes to hold himself up. Blood trickled from Harry’s mouth, and down on Voldemort’s robes, but the other man seemed not to notice, too entranced in the moment of Harry Potter’s ultimate defeat.
“NOOOO!” Hermione rushed through the crowd, and stopped just short of the pair.
“What will you do now to protect this little mudblood? With no strength left, less and less life in you by the minute. What will you do to stop me from slaughter the unworthy now? Nothing! I think I shall begin by torturing this girl for my pleasures!” Then he chuckled disgustingly. Harry used the last ounce of his strength to rise and look Voldemort in the eyes. He laid his hand on the bastard’s heart.
“You forget,” Harry whispered hoarsly. “The Sorting hat wanted me in Slytherin’s house… Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort was dead even before he hit the ground the startled look on his face a classic sign of someone killed by the Killing curse. Harry smirked wearily.
“Finally,” he rasped. He swayed on his feet, and fell onto the ground before anyone could do a thing about it. Hermione rushed to his side immediately.
“Harry… Stay with me!”
“It’s becoming something of a habit, isn’t it? Me lying on the ground, dying. With luck, this is the last time that’ll ever happen. Mustn’t count on that, though. You know my luck…” A cough brought up blood from Harry’s lungs.
“Don’t speak, Harry. You’ll get through this!” Hermione was crying now, as were a number of other people.
“Let me through. Now!” Madame Pomfrey entered the fray, running as fast as she could. When she came upon Harry and Hermione, Harry had already passed out.
“Move out of the way, Ms. Granger. If I’m fast, perhaps I can…” Kingsley laid a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
“No, Madame. He’s made his peace. It would be wrong to take that away from him now. Leave him be.” Such was the way Harry Potter parted ways with this world again.

Harry woke up in a strange place with stark white marble walls. He was lying in a huge four post bed, the heavy curtains folded neatly against the rear one’s. Where am I? Not the same place as before. He got out of the bed, dressed, and walked to the window. The castle, in witch he was in rested high on a mountain side, the clouds drifting lazily below. He turned from the window, and towards the door, opening it warily.

On either side of the door, there was a guard, stone faced men, looking forwards, not paying him any heed. All their attention was on the man sitting on a bench, right in front of the door. The man was wearing, heavy white robes, trimmed in gold, the weavings complicated and unusually ornate.
“You have awakened. Good. Follow me.” The man stood up graciously, and started down a wide, arched hallway. Harry followed, setting his guard. Torches in golden holders lined the walls, casting shadows of varying forms around the place, making it a bit eerie. Eerie? It’s making me bloody nervous! On they walked, rounded countless bends, corners, down many stairs, then stopped at one, golden door.
“It’s through here. Milord.” Lord? What the ruddy hell is going on here?
“What the ruddy hell is going on here? I’m no lord. Where am I? What is this place?” The man smirked slightly.
“All will be revealed in due course. Now, you mustn’t keep the lady waiting. You were to be brought to her as soon as you awoke. Now go!”
“Fine, fine, I’ll go!” As soon as his words left his mouth, the door opened softly. And in he went.

The dais he entered was all bathed in gold, the carvings in the wall were lined with silver and bronze, though, and candles floated in the air. On golden disks. Okay, I’ve seen about as much gold in the last hour that I can stand. Oh, the bloody grandeur. It seemed like he had gone out of the castle, and in front of him, there were wide stairs, that led upwards, the mountain top undoubtfully at it’s top. It was a long way to go, so he better get going.

After what seemed like forever, and surely billion steps, Harry got to the top of the stairs. He was not too tired, simply bored out of his mind. I hate long stairs!
“Welcome, young Harry.” Harry looked up, and at a stunning woman sitting on a huge throne, carved into the shape of a lion. A golden lion. The golden theme is getting a bit tired. A man appeared from behind the throne, clasped his hands together, and shouted:
“All praise the goddess Azura! Bow and show your loyalty and respect for the goddess!”
“Nope. Not doing it.” The man blanched and looked like he had been kicked in the groin.
“Woah. Relax, pops, and sit down. Stress is a real killer, you know.”
“You dare! Arrogant whelp!” The goddess Azura was standing, rage filling her eyes.
“Puny mortal!” Then she sat back down, her piercing gaze stinging Harry.
“I do not bow to any one, and especially to one who demands it of me like this. And my respect is earned, not given. Even if you’re a goddess. And from my point of view, you’ve not done much to earn my respect.”
“The castle is usually enough, and for one such as yourself, the floor should be more than enough” the old man shouted hoarsely.
“Hmph. I’ve never been one for gaudy things. Honestly. Give me a shabby cottage any day. But what I really want is to know where and why I am here. There’s someone I am longing to see, so if we could hurry this along, I’d be grateful.”
“Ah, the Weasley girl, yes?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m not liking where this is going, he said dangerously.
“Are you threatening me, young man?”
“Interpret it any way you like, Azura. I’m leaving.” Harry turned around, but stopped dead when he saw Ginny’s face in a mirror in front of him.
“What trickery is this?!” The goddess chuckled softly.
“The girl is being held in the Winter sidhe’s castle.” Harry whipped around.
“What? Why?”
“You made a bargain with Auriel, did you not?”
“Yes, I did. But I did not mention anyone’s name! And neither did she!”
“I recall her saying ‘someone you love. Ten years of servitude’ That could have been anyone. The Unseelie are cruel, vicious creatures, not to be taken lightly. Unless you are sure you can outsmart them, do not make a deal with one of them. I think you made a mistake crafting a deal with such ruthless people.”
“Well, you’re just all knowing and mighty aren’t you?” Harry said, defeated, but still managing to sound sarcastic.
“How can I get her back? I am a man of my word, and besides, a deal is a deal. Deals made with the Sidhe cannot be broken.”
“Offer her something better, then.”
“Such as? Oh, wait, don’t tell me… You require a service of me in order to tell me of the thing I can offer her? That’s it, isn’t it?” Azura smirked.
“I give nothing for nothing. Such is not the way of the deities of the realm. You should do well to remember that.”
“Point noted. Fine. What is it that you require of me?” Azura clapped her hands together happily. Quite uncharacteristic, but it had to be a good sign.
“A wise choice, Harry Potter. A wise choice indeed. But what task can I give one such as yourself? I have it! Yes… That should be fine. You can kill two birds with one stone if you accept my challenge.” Harry arched an eyebrow.
“Challenge? I thought you were speaking of a task. You speak as if I have a choice in the matter at hand.” Azura grimaced slightly, and that mortal-like motion made her even more beautiful.
“I am a goddess, and as such, it is well within my boundaries to force a mortal to do what I require, or want. But I am not akin to such brutish tactics. You will perform a service for me, but I am offering you the choice of tasks. The one I have in mind is the most beneficial to both parties. Hear me out, please.” Harry inclined his head.
“There’s a mountain range far to the east, called Eastwall, on the far borders of Eastwood. Through it you must go in order to reach the mountains. True, you can go around, but it will take week, for the forest is vast in length, but narrow. On the mountain side, there are a few villages that have been raided many times in the last few weeks by a Wyvern. Or, as it is more commonly known; a Great Red Dragon. Much larger than the average dragon that exists in your old world, and more wicked.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
“I have faced a Hungarian Horntail before. Back when I was fourteen.” Azura’s eyes flew open.
“And you emerged victorious?” Harry smirked. No need to let her know under what circumstances the event took place.
“Obviously. Wouldn’t I have been here sooner had I lost?” She smiled in a kind of sheepish way. She was embarrassed!
“Quite the feat, Harry Potter. For a lad of that age. Between you and me, the Horntail is particularly nasty a creature.”
“You’re telling me?” Harry asked and laughed bitterly. He rolled up his sleeve, and showed her the scar the dragon gave him on his upper arm.
“Nicked me shoulder. Hurt like hell. You wish for me to slay the dragon and end the threat to the villages?”
“Yes, I do. But you can try to reason with the worm. They do speak human tongue after all. Harry stood there for a moment, wondering about his possibilities.
“Oh, right, how does this help me with my faerie problem?”
“There’s bound to be some treasure in his hoard that might interest her. Search for a sapphire or the like. It should fit her cold heart. And pray your debt has not been sold. That might prove disastrous.”
“You’re just full of encouragement, and hope… Fine, I’ll do it. Anything else?”
“Yes. Beware the Eastwood. It is haunted by the fallen adventurers, and inhabited by viler creatures still. The trail through the forest is flanked with everlasting torches. Do not venture of the road. I can not vouch for your safety if you do.” Harry shook his head irritated.
“Why can’t I just fly over to the mountains. I can shape shift, you know…”
“I know of that ability of yours, but alas, magic is unpredictable when you’re there. And I’d hate for you to end up as a pretty stain on the ground.” Harry bowed slightly. Well, it was more of an inclining of his head, but still, it was a show of respect. Azura smiled acceptingly. Harry turned about and jumped of the edge free falling hundred of feet before changing into a raven.

Two days later, he stood before the forest, the trail vanishing into the darkness. He had a forboding feeling, the hairs on the back of his head prickling. Danger. It always had to be bloody dangerous. A gust of wind blew out of the forest, kicking up the fallen, auburn coloured leaves. And the bluish green flames in the torches flickered ghostly, and Harry could swear he heard a mournful moan from within the shadows.
“God, how I hate being me.” And he stepped into the unknown.