Ministry of Magic
May 27, 1996

It's a strange thing. Seeing someone you know die, that is. Death, alone, is unsettling reguardless of who it is;when you know the person, though, it slightly different. Most feel an odd emotion or two-- something their not quite used to. For Harry, it was like a great big heartbeat, stronger than he had felt in all his life. Greater than when he stood in silence as Aunt Marge belittled and degraded his heritage. More so then when Lucius Malfoy beat and abused Dobby the house elf. No, this single beat of the heart eclipsed them all.

It erupted from his beating organ, like frost seeping through the windows of his dormitory in winter, at the apex of the blizzard that had raged for days. The cold dread slipped through him, slowly, withoout haste, over his chest, down his legs, up his arms, and finally to his head. As it travled over his mouth, his jaw dropped, and a scream tore itself free. Over his eyes, and they throbbed, as salty tears gathered. In the end, the cold reached his head, the figurative finish line, and reality through itself on him, in great heaping waves of grief.

Sirius Black, his godfather, his friend, the marauder, was dead.

The sounds of the room came back in a rush. Remus' hands were around him, holding him back. The flashing lights of numerous spells danced across the room. There was a moment, even admist all that, where Harry felt he just might lose himself, and quietly exit stage left. But what saved him was the oddest thing. Across the room, up a number of stairs, Nevile Longbottem was struggling with the curse that forced him to dance, horribly, non-stop. With in the span of a few seconds, Nevile bit his lip, and by force of pure will, stopped the puppet dance. Nevile, the near squib who only just recently was beginning to show some apperence of skill, the boy who's parents were tortured into insanity, who still found the strength to never give up; saved him.

He semi-relaxed against Remus. Sirius was gone. Death Eaters were attacking. His friends were hurt if not nearly dying. And it was all his fault. So how could he just give up? Just give in to Voldemort and his army? No, he decided, the guilt and grief would come later, but now, just the death of Death Eaters.

He reached up moving Remus' arms away gently, turning the the rest of the room. He shared a brief look with the werewolf, and the two had a split-second glance of understanding. The former professor nodded and moved off, rejoining the battle. Harry bent down, picking up his holly and phoenix feather wand that had dropped near his black and white chucks. When he stood up straight again, he looked at the battle not as a child still in school, but as the chosen one, destined to kill or be killed. And kill he would.

"Bombarda!"

His inital attack caused much suprise for the order, giving them time to move the other children from the fray, and focus fully on offence. The stand off remained the same for near fifteen minutes or so, before an explosion racked the veil room. A nerby wall gave way, and a great snake of fire burst forth, narrowly missing Dumbledore. The headmaster and Voldemort were locked in combat, seemingly oblivious to the surroundings.

It was at that explosion that things began to go down hill. Harry stumbled, caught unaware from the blast, and was seperated from the order for but a few seconds. That was all the Death Eaters needed, and a group of four surrounded Harry, spells of all kinds hailing down on him. The other five proctected themselves and their partners in crime from the order who all too soon began struggeling to reach the lone Gryffindor.

Dumbledore looked to the Harry as he guarded, dodged and fought back against the four minions, never seeing what was behind him.

"Harry!" the headmaster called out, "Harry! Look behin-"

A fiery snake of molten lava burst from the ground infront of him, cutting him off. A flick of the wand and the snake froze to stone and shattered sending the fragments to his enemy. Lord Voldemort grinned across from him, clicking his tongue.

"Now, now, dear leader of light," He hissed, vanishing the debris, "don't interfere. I rather like the direction the Potter boy is moving in."

Said leader of light leveled a glare at the pureblood supremest. If Voldemort wouldn't let him speek, he would need to send him away first, but quickly, lest he be to late.

Harry dodged left narrowly escaping a bone breaker curse. In front of him four Death Eaters moved back and forth pushing him back. Avery and Crabbe mostly stayed back, while two of the people he hated most in this world pressed him; Malfoy and Bellatrix. The boy who lived forego all spells at the others in favor of the latter, the murder of Sirius.

"What's wrong little baby? Is itty bity Potty getting tired? Why don't you let Auntie Bellatrix put you to sleep!"

Harry danced back and forth as her spells flew all around him, a dangerous dance where the wrong step, ment death.

Think! Think! Potter! There's gotta be a weekness, a spell she won't expect... Shite!

Harry haphazardly jumped to his left, as the killing curse missed its mark, shattering the ground. He toppled forward, his face crashing into the ground. There was a brief flash of pain, and a great crunch lit the air as his nose broke. He cupped his face in agony and the spells stopped. He looked up at once, alert. Avery, Goyle, Crabbe, the Lestrange brothers, and Nott were locked in combat with the order of the phoenix, all while forming a protective barrier around he and two remaining Death Eaters. Malfoy stood back wand down, but just as alert as he, watching Harry with a cruel, smug look upon his face. His head rose higher, and there in front of him, wand to his head, was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Awwe," she cooed like talking to an infant, "Did little baby Potty hurt his nose? Don't worry, Auntie Bella will make you feel better." And with that she cast the torture spell, crucio, upon him.

It was strong, he'd give her that much, but Voldemort wasn't called a dark lord for nothing. His had been faster, burned hotter, dug deeper, and ripped so much more slowly. Compared to the suffocating pain of Voldemort, Bellatrix was an uncomfortable wave. He trashed on the ground, for several moments, only faintly crying out in pain. He looked up at his tormentor, feeling his anger building, growing, becoming something ugly. He locked eyes with her, willing that anger to boil to the surface, willing the desire to kill her to turn his vision red.

The witch looked surprised, her will faultered for a moment, and the spell broke. She stood there looking at him strangely, her eyebrow rose, and an amused upturn of her mouth graced her face. Harry gripped his wand tightly.

"Well, well, Potter's got some strength to him. It's a shame my dear cousin didn't have that strength." She circled him slowly while she talked, like a tigress watching her meal as it struggled with its life, wounded by her strong claws to its stomach. "He should have paid attention when we fought. I could have drawn out his suffering, tortured him, heard his screams... But no, he had to fall through the Veil of Death--a quick painless death. Hmm, such a shame." She stopped in front of him again, and burst out laughing.

Harry's teeth gave a great crack as he ground his jaw. All his anger, grief, sorrow, and hate finally eclipised rationality. In a second, his wand arm rose and pointed his wand at Bellatrix's feet. Lucius was too slow raising his wand. Much too slow, Harry knew. It was her defeat, her death, and his victory, his revenge.

"Bombarda Maximo!"

A small circle of wind, no bigger than a galleon, appeared where his wand tip pointed. It spun violently, gaining speed faster than the blink of an eye. For one tiny split second, it contracted, as though the spell had failed, but then it kicked in reverse. A literal tsunami of wind burst outward, sending Lucius, several Death Eaters and a number of the order flying. Harry and Bellatrix seemed unaffected by the wind, at least by the wave of wind. With the lack of air pressure around them, the liquids in each body began seeking to expand--boiling them from the inside out.

Harry thought he might die then, unable to breath and cooked alive, but eternal relief swept over him. As air rushed back into the area, it chilled his body, as if he was thrown into the deepest sea, sinking to its dark depths, the cold and pressure killing him long before drowning.

The last moments he saw progressed in what he'd seen on t.v., described as slow motion. At the root of the spell, where once there had been the small ring of wind, was now a tiny ball of light. It seemed innocent on its own, not even as big as his fist, and just floating there. Around the ball, he could see air, as impossible as that was. The place where air was absent was clear undisturbed, while the wind rushed in was distorted, showing clearly the difference. The wind crawled toward the ball, ever so slowly. As soon as they touched, Harry knew, both he and Bellatrix Lestrange would die.

Good redence.

The air and ball touched, and contracted violently. He locked eyes with the witch across from him again. This time her eyes were full of fear and pain.

He vaguely saw a number of massive shileds surround Bellatrix, himself and the Veil behind him.

He rasped out one last sentence.

"See you in hell, bitch."

Then all went dark.

He awoke with a sudden jerk, an earthquake in the air his rude awakener.

He was standing, or rather, floating in the air; the Veil of Death looming silently ahead of him. The sole light came from the archway, the rest of the, place, shrouded in a suffocating darkness.

To his left, came a moan of pain. Also floating, but unconscious, was the ghost of Bellatrix. She was wispy, yet detailed and solid looking, just as Sirius had looked minutes ago. Around her trindils of darkness groped at her body, dragging her back, away from the archway and the veil.

Around him were similar trindils, gripping him in an irontight hold. But they were still, neither pushing him nor pulling him.

Another quake of the air rattled him, and the trindils loosed a fraction.

In front of him, the source of the quakes was obvious, at least to Harry. The Veil of Death was not as stoic as it had been the last thousand years. The archway which held the door to death was covered with cracks, spidering not only along the stonework, but even in to the surrounding air. From the cracks bled through a pulsating, white light. A tense few moments passes, then an inhuman groan broke the silence, and the arch shattered. A brilliant white flame burst forth from nothing, and enveloped the Veil.

At that moment the slithers of darkness convulsed, and started crushing Harry.

"You again..."

The voice was sudden, a wisper in his ear, and gone like a breeze.

The Veil thrashed about, like an animal caught aflame.

"You're stronger... If you can burn even the gate..."

The darkness stretched across his body, ready to consume his very soul.

"Fourteen years since we last met... Harry Potter..."

The dark scratched at his mouth, like little demons waiting to enter, to devour him from within.

"Fool me once, child... Shame on you..."

If Harry had a heart right now, he would bet his account it would have given out. But like so many times in his life, salvation came at the last second. The burning Veil, ignored till then, let off a horrible screech louder than any bomb, than any earthly noise. And like blinking, it was gone, nothing to prove it's existance but memories. The darkness, once so oppresive, so terrifying, drained away like water after a bath.

"But fool me twice... and shame on me..."

Harry spun around looking for the voice, confusion playing across his features.

"Whats going on? Where am I!"

"I am Death, Harry Potter... It was your fire which destroyed the gate... Which consumed your soul before your own fire could... I concede your victory child..."

"Death? Victory?" It shouldn't really have supprised him, but really, dying, nearly having your soul eaten, being spared, and 'meeting' the incarnation of death pretty much through logic out the window. They didn't cover any of this at Hogwarts. "What the hell's going on!?"

"You have defeated that which took your soul, after death... I see that I cannot contain you... Your soul differs from the rest..."

Harry felt a fimilar twinge of exasperation. Now his soul was different, was it? Just great. He'd never be normal, would he?

A sudden quake stole him from his thoughts. Far, far away in the distance, a small white light gleamed in the darkness, like a lone star in the sky. Without warning or signal, Harry felt himself moving, faster, and faster, toward that star in the distance.

"You will leave now Harry Potter... To rejoin life... And take solace... For we shall meet again, nevermore."

And with that, Harry Potter left Death, into the world once more.

The sun was brighter than he remmembered.

Darkness left in a rush, replaced by a great bright light in the sky, and a great looming shadow at his feet.

The figure of a man came to focus, and the giant shadow image vanished into his imagination. Though the man still seemed huge.

"Now lets see, what are you?"

The man reached for his legs, his incredible small and weak legs. Small, weak and naked. Like the rest of his body.

"A boy!" The man called out, "Catherine, it's a boy! We have a beautiful, healthy baby boy..."

The image of a womens legs near his head came to focus. As did the old, worn medical equipment. And the floresent light bulb above thier heads.

"Oh James, James... We did it... Our baby boy..." The women's voice was weak, fatigued.

The man, James, who shared his own father's namesake leaned forward, smiling at him even through the mask on his face.

"Your mother and I have been discussing names little guy, hows James III, or Henry, like the kings of old Europe?"

One thought flashed through his head at that momment.

Fuck.