I'll take a challenge. I hope it's not a lulzy smut one, because as my Spout/? story shows, I fail at those. Anything else, and I'm good.

 

A loud siren reverberated through the shabby hallways, tearing its way into a filthy apartment on the second floor. The sound resembled what one might imagine was a kitten with very healthy lungs dying repeatedly in long, continuous, horrible agony. However, for the young man awoken by the ruckus at this god-forsaken hour it only meant one thing. The fucking bastards had started the fire alarm. Again.

Stumbling out of bed and into what was supposed to be the living room he looked around, sight distorted with sleep deprivation. The clock on the wall showed 4:36 am. No one bothered Harry bloody Potter recuperating and got away with it. Finally finding the door, mostly due to the excitedly drunk voices laughing and giggling on the other side, he opened it and stuck his head out, scanning the hallway. No fires of course, there was never any fires. Fucking students. Why he even bothered to stay here was beyond him, his sleep constantly interrupted by the hormonal alcoholics living of old dads little trust fund.

“Will you little pussies just stop fucking interrupting my sleep?! I’ll bloody force your faggot fathers doctors to figure out a way to perform a cranial rectum extraction if you wake me up again!”

Slamming the door in their faces before they had a chance to retort sure made him feel better. Still, that fucking alarm was still blaring. No going back to sleep then, fuck. Might as well eat and start the day, he had things to do and places to be. Trawling his way to the fridge, he opened the door and peered inside. Empty. Jolly good, this day is just getting better and better.

Suddenly he heard a loud crash from the other room, followed by a significant increase in volume. Did those little shits just kick in the door? Damn it all to hell, they were going to regret that one way or another. Quickly stalking his way into his living room he came face to face with three of the douches inhabiting the place, slimy fuckers with sickening attitudes and far too attractive girlfriends.

“You little fuckers better be offering one of your girls up as an apology or I’m going to beat your piano playing arses into the ground.”

“Not really you little punk” one of the boys, a brown haired guy with a confident smile responded, “Why would we want to apologize to you?”

“Because I’ve trashed pretty much all of you sometime this last week and I’ve fucked half of the whores you call yours on more than one occasion”

The blonde guy charged at him with an angry snarl. It was almost too easy, drunk guys really couldn’t fight, a simple slug to the face and the guy fell to the floor, hands covering his nose and moaning in pain. He bent down and nicked the wallet from the guy. He found 10 bucks, a truly superb payday. Well, better than nothing he supposed. One of the remaining guys started to yell, seemingly preparing himself to take the space of his friend when the one that spoke earlier interrupted.

“Wait Daniel, we came for a reason didn’t we?” he said, holding out his arm in a way of restraining his friend. “Wouldn’t want the money we gave to the Russian go to waste would we?”

“Who’s the fucking Russian?” Harry wondered aloud. “Another of your pansy douche friends with money to fill my pockets?”

"I am the Russian." The man entering the room seemingly on commando was not a pansy douche. At least two fucking meters tall, steroid pumped and wearing a shit eating grin full of confidence.

"Goddammit, this had better drop some decent loot."

 

Yer a wizard, Harry!

Seriously, while this is technically a fine read, the dearth of magic hurts it in my opinion. Fire alarm bugging you? Throw up a damn spell to block out the sound. Harry's lack of mentioning or use of magic just makes this weak.

 

It didn't even mention him being Harry. Fail.

 

@Schro: Next time you level up in life, upgrade your eyes.

@Kensington: I had an idea behind not using magic, fail as both the idea might be and the fact that I didn't explain it.

 

Oh, never mind, sorry. It's still not HP fanfic, since it has no connection to HP beyond the name.

 

That's... That's pretty crap dude. But this line.. On commando? He rode in on one of the G.I. Joe's back? Or on Red Star's Back?

 

Smoke and ash billowed into their face, the byproduct of the Goblin's version of the Fienfyre spell. It ravaged the caverns underneath Gringott's, making the once sharp and pointed stalagmites look as if they were melting and dripping. The rough walls were in a similar shape, becoming polished, shiny, and smooth, evidence of magic conquering nature.

Cool blue motes burst into existence in front of them, clearing the remains of the fire and the clouds of smoke. Harry was now able to see Ron, his face lined with soot and gray ash. Harry knew that he most likely looked just as bad. Above them, a cart zipped by and a Goblin and Auror could be seen grappling and attempting to curse each other in the tight confines of their ride. The spells left impressions along the cavern, one came awfully close to their position but a hastily conjured shield prevented any damage from occurring.

"Blimey, those nutters nearly took our heads off," Ron exclaimed, his ire causing his skin to match his blood red robes assigned to the Ministry Aurors.

"Thankfully, I was able to conjure my shield in time. But I wonder, why on earth would they want to fight in a cart that's traveling almost as fast as a Firebolt," Harry asked, twirling his wand and scanning the caverns around them.

"Nutters I said, just absolute nutters," Ron shook his head and suddenly jerked to the left as something caught his attention.

"Who are they supposed to be," Ron asked, looking at the group of black armbanded Aurors in the distance.

Spells left the Aurors wands at a quick pace, sending a group of goblins into the air while some exploded with a loud boom that even Ron and Harry could feel from their position. Abruptly, a circle of fire surrounded the Aurors and they immediately changed their formation. They turned so that their backs were touching and half the group began defending the circle while the other half began swinging their wands or jabbed roughly at nearby Goblins. A mass of Goblins rushed at the stationary Aurors and leveled their magic against them.

Red curses left the polished Goblin wrought silver, streaking in a parabolic curve and crashing down on the glowing green shield conjured by the Aurors. Other Goblins joined their brethren and snapped their fingers while screaming in their harsh, guttural tongue. The ground rumbled and cracked as hounds left the crevice and began dashing at the Aurors. The beasts leap into the air and bore down onto the Aurors, bypassing their green shield and somehow surviving the circle of fire which exploded as the creatures neared.

One man screamed and dropped like a crumpled doll as his jugular vein was severed. Ron immediately took a step forward, intent on helping the other Aurors but Harry grabbed his arm.

"Bloody hell, Harry. We have to help them," Ron said but Harry held strong.

"See those black armbands? Those are Boundary Aurors, tasked to protect us against things which should not exist in our reality. They're highly dangerous, watch," Harry urged while releasing his grip on Ron's arm.

The goblins, seeing a moment of weakness, charged at the group while swinging their silvercrafted instruments. Magic rushed at the Aurors but once again they changed their formation and this time, they all waved their wand in a synchronized pattern. An invisible force stopped the hounds in their tracks, suddenly flattening the beasts by a sightless, mighty weight. The torches on the wall, which were lightly flickering as if caught by an unseen wind, suddenly erupted as flying creatures of fire left from their perch and smashed into several of the Goblins.

The short and stout creatures died as the maddening flames clawed at their chest with furious rage. Agony befell those Goblins as the flaming creatures burrowed into their chest and burned their heart into a crisp. Meanwhile, shadows became alive and attacked the remaining Goblins. One was decapitated while another was dragged, screaming its lungs off, into the shadowy junction where the nightmares existed. The tide of the battle was now turning into the wizards' favor and those Aurors began picking off the remaining Goblins.

"They're also tasked with learning the boundary magics as well," Harry added, looking at Ron's shocked face.

"That was effing incredible and down right disturbing," said Ron, suddenly looking pale. "Think, I'll be having nightmares about those things."

"I did the first time I saw those fire creatures digging into man's chest. It was sickening, hearing the man's scream," Harry said grimly while shaking his head.

"I don't want to know that mate. Come on, let's go find that vault," Ron said.

They traveled deeper into the cavern, getting further and further away from the battle. They walked past numerous vaults but none of the vaults was the one they were looking for. The hair on Harry's neck raised, feeling as if someone was watching them. Suddenly, Harry dove into Ron sending them crashing into the ground as a spell went wide over their head.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed while rolling and jumping to his feet. "Stupefy, you nasty little bugger!"

The crimson spell rocked out of Ron's wand as Harry was picking himself up. To their shock, the spell crashed into a glowing blue shield conjured from a wand held in the Goblin's crooked, sharp fingers.

"Urgnuk, prepared for wizard's betrayal," it snarled, barring ugly discolored teeth. "Urgnuk, waited and learned about the wizard's secrets. Learned about magic that wizards denied from Goblins!"

Harry stepped closer, holding his hands up to placate the Goblin.

"Now, you know that we didn't betray you Goblins. You betrayed us by practicing wand magic, which is forbidden in the Goblin-Human Accords of 1612 which was signed by both parties given the losses that we both had," Harry exclaimed, while preparing a plan.

"You know that wands are forbidden to non-human magical beings," Ron said, keeping his wand at the ready.

"The Ministry knows about the wands, Urgnuk. Where is it, the vault? You broke the accords and now we are here to take back what is rightfully ours," Harry said, while his mind ran through the spell pattern.

Urgnuk's stolen wand sparked as his anger increased. Agitated, he began waving his arms and pointing.

"What gives you the right to say to Urgnuk, no wand magic," Urgnuk said, snarling and almost foaming at the mouth.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and laughed at the absurdity of the question. Ron began to tear up while Harry wanted to clutch his side.

"This bloke is quite a riot. We should take him in for questioning, he'd be quite a hit," Ron said while pointing at Urgnuk who was becoming more enraged.

Harry chuckled and then looked at the Goblin, amusement making him look much younger than his current age of thirty.

"Urgnuk, we are the Ministry of Magic. We are Wizengamot appointed Ministry Aurors, sworn to defend and protect the Ministry and this glorious nation. We know how violent you creatures are, especially when fueled by the intoxication of wand magic. You are simply too dangerous to be allowed a wand which is why we are here. Hand the wands over and you'll end the war," Harry said, holding his hand out as if to receive something.

Urgnuk stared at him and then jabbed his wand at Harry's feet, turning the solid rock into a violently steaming pool of acid. Harry jumped back and an Elbow Disfiguring Curse left his wand but Urgnuk shielded both Harry's curse and Ron's Levicorpus. They looked at Urgnuk with shock, seeing the Goblin's prowess with wand magic. It was clear that Urgnuk had advanced training, training only a wizard could provide.

The three exploded into action, spells leaving their wands. Blood boilers were blocked by unconscious reflex shielding, a standard action amongst Aurors. Metal spikes from Urgnuk were turned into attacking birds by Ron and as the birds turned around and reached Urgnuk, Harry transfigured the birds into snakes, commanding them with Parseltongue. Urgnuk blasted the snakes with a whip of flame which caused Harry to send a powerful jet of water at Urgnuk. The moment water met the flaming whip, it turned into steam which Ron charmed to become superheated. The superheated steam blasted Urgnuk in the face and chest, causing deep, painful burns. Urgnuk screeched and his shield erupted a moment later, a second too late.

Harry and Ron unleashed a volley of spells against the shield, causing Urgnuk to stay on the defensive and preventing him from retaliating. The spells pounded into the shield with massive force which was beginning to weaken it. The Goblin couldn't counter fast enough, despite the training, and the shield faltered, causing Urgnuk to jab his wand in desperation. Urgnuk was hit by several spells, fatally wounding the Goblin as one of its lungs erupted while a leg was bent in an unnatural position. It would die but it would be slow.

Unfortunately, Harry's rapid spellfire prevented him from defending Urgnuk's parting shot and his stomach gave a lurch of pain. Clutching his stomach, blood began pooling into his hands. Urgnuk, almost delirious from his wounds and subduing charms, saw that Harry was injured and gave a tug with its wand. Harry dropped to the ground and howled in pain as his insides suddenly caught fire and a sickening sensation of pulling centered over his gut. It was very much like a Portkey but in this case, his organs began pulling towards the injury caused by Urgnuk. A moment later the sensation stopped as Harry opened his eyes and saw Urgnuk's bloody arm and wand on the ground, separated from the shoulder by a neatly cast Sectumsempra from Ron.

Ron seized the wand with an Accio before rushing to Harry's said.

"Mate, are you alright," he asked, concern painting his face.

Harry groaned and then stuck his wand into his stomach, causing it to flare up with pain once more while Ron began to look sick.

"Ron, don't you dare throw up on me," Harry said, gritted his teeth and then casted a spell.

Pain left his stomach as his organs and abdomen felt abnormally stiff. Satisfied that everything was going to stay put, Harry pulled his wand out of his gut and sealed the wound with a blast of directed fire. Harry let loose another scream of pain and panted before grasping Ron's offered hand.

"Merlin's balls, Harry. You're one tough bugger aren't ya? Just like that bastard over there," Ron nodded to the dying Urgnuk while pulling Harry to his feet.

"I used to not want any attention but I'd better get a fucking medal for this," Harry said, while walking towards Urgnuk.

"As long as I get one too, mate. I saved the Boy Who Lived's life! It's like protecting a national treasure," Ron added causing Harry to chuckle.

"Don't tempt the press, Ron. They might just suggest that I be named a national treasure, then you'll get another partner for field work," said Harry, while kicking Urgnuk.

He jolted back into consciousness and glared at Harry. Harry responded in kind and moved his face so close to Urgnuk's, their noses almost touched. While looking into the Goblin's eyes, he asked him one question.

"Where is the vault?"

Urgnuk coughed, sending blood into Harry's face and then grasped something on its neck. Harry wiped the blood off with his hand and dug the wand into Urgnuk's forehead, which caused Urgnuk to slow his actions. The Goblin finally pulled out the rest of the chain on it's neck and revealed a tiny, silver key. It yanked the key off it's neck and threw it into the air. Harry's seeker reflexes were not quick enough as it sailed over him. Ron prepared to summon the key but it suddenly stopped and hovered.

Abruptly, the key shot forward and jammed itself into the wall. The wall cracked and crumbled as a hidden vault was revealed to the Aurors. The key was nestled into the keyhole and soon, the vault doors had enough room to open as the rest of the wall fell apart. Harry and Ron looked at each other and nodded, positioning themselves in front of the vault. The key turned on its own accord and a click echoed throughout the deep caverns. The doors swung open and their eyes widened.

A mighty roar erupted from the vault and threatened to rupture their sensitive human eardrums. Glowing black eyes met them from the darkness and a long spiked tail with light green scales crashed right in front of them, sending rocks flying. The dragon let loose another mighty roar and fire erupted from its long snout while a object rocketed from the vault and flew right at the two wizards. They dove out of the way as a sword embedded itself into the wall in between where the two were standing.

"A Portuguese Long Snout? And it can cast magic," Ron asked, surprise marking his features.

Harry readied his wand as another roar erupted from inside the vault and another dragon made its way out, its markings indicating it was a Catalonian Fireball. Harry opened his mouth and cursed.

"Goddammit, this had better drop some decent loot."

 

First one was pretty fucking hilarious, despite not being much of an HP fic. Second one was pretty good, too.

 

EDIT: Nevermind, already posted it.

 

It's a bit shorter then 2k but I couldn't make it any longer without adding pointless filler.

A tall man with sleek platinum hair dressed in a large open black robe over an expensive muggle suit, walked with confidence down a hallway as various aides scrambled to and forth carrying papers and dodging message carrying paper airplanes.

“You there!” the man pointed at an aide leaning against the wall to the side room. “Get me a cup of coffee.”

The aide, a small scrawny kid straight out of Hogwarts, nodded and stood forward. “Yes Mr. Malfoy”

The kid began walking to the coffee machine before Malfoy put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

“Tell me, is Potter in yet?”

“I don't know sir” said the aide.

“Well why don't you go to the front door and check” Malfoy's face showed clear agitation.

“I don't know the way there sir. Your manor is very big and I am new here--”

“Just get the hell out of my sight” interrupted Malfoy.

He watched the aide scamper off as he muttered to himself. “It's like he wants to lose his god damn election”

Malfoy went over and sat in one of the chairs close by, took out a green apple and bit into it while taping his foot to the floor in apparent irritation.

Several minutes passed before another aide came to him. “Sir, Mr. Potter has arrived.”

Malfoy stood and walked away without replying. Arriving at his foyer, he spotted Potter hanging his robe.

“Hey Potter, where the hell were you” said Malfoy rather loudly.

“I was busy, my daughter was sick and I couldn't leave the house. Don't worry. Your still getting paid” Potter rolled his eyes.

Malfoy walked over and dropped the morning Prophet into Potter's hands. “Read.”

Minister of Magic Election Only Three Days Away
​

Below a smaller headline stated:

Latest Prophet Poll Shows Potter Still Trailing Macmillan by 10%
​

“That's impossible! My speech at the Hogwarts memorial should have at least changed these numbers.” Harry quickly scanned the rest of the article. “What the hell are we going to do now?”

“We Potter? Your going to listen to me if you want to win this election.” said Malfoy.

Malfoy signaled Potter to follow. They went up the stairs to the relatively empty second floor and into one of the spare rooms. Inside were two chairs and a mahogany desk with lots of papers strewn over it, some appearing to have fallen to the floor.

Malfoy shut the door and pulled out his wand, whispering a silencing charm as he ran it over on the outsides of the door. After finishing Malfoy went to the desk and sat on the chair beside it, spinning around to face Potter.

“Look Potter, the explosion we arranged beside your podium last week did cause some speculation.” Potter frowned, looking down. “Although the Macmillan campaign did deny its involvement in the attack, there was speculation in the prophet that they were the ones behind it. But now it appears that it still didn't change your figures”

“Malfoy this is why what you decided to do--”

“I didn't decide to do anything. You had agreed” said Malfoy.

Potter turned to the wall and gazed out the window, a solemn expression on his face. It was an unusually cloudy day.

“Listen. What we've done... and what your planning to do, it isn't helping. We need to stop and it is illegal and--”

“Are you saying that you regret our underhanded negotiations with the Goblins.” Malfoy leaned forward on his chair. “Without that the Macmillan campaign wouldn't have been choked of funds and we would have never even been able to make it into the running” Malfoy sneered.

Potter's face looked pained. “No Malfoy this has to stop. If the public found out about this, you would be thrown into Azkaban. Think about your family, what would they--”

“No, I am tired of hearing these excuses from you!” snapped Malfoy. “Do you want to win this election or not? If you had listened to me from the start, we would never have been in this problem which we're in now!”

“Then what the hell do you propose we do!”

“Well” A thoughtful expression took Malfoy's face as he visibly calmed down. “How is your pretty wife doing these days” The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched upwards.

“What does she have to do with this?” said Potter.

Malfoy stood up. “Well Potter, your wife is a fairly popular reporter in the Daily Prophet. If something were to happen to her...”

Potter snarled, fingering his white wand which was half hanging out of his pocket. “Get out.”

“C'mon Harry” Malfoy's smile got wider. “Murder— After all we've done, all we've hurt and destroyed, it seems like such a little step, doesn't it?”

“GET OUT”

“It's my house, you can't kick me out.” said Malfoy looking amused.

Potter threw the door open with a bang and stormed out of the room. Malfoy stood still for a second, muttering under his breath, before going out the door to follow Potter.

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]***[/FONT]
​

Harry Potter arrived at his Godric's Hallow home that night looking worn out. Hanging his robe on a coat hanger near the door, Harry walked into his kitchen. Almost 15 years he had been living here, yet still it felt strange being in the same house where his parents had died. He saw his daughter Lily sitting at the kitchen table drawing feverishly on a piece of paper.

Lily looked up. “Hi!” she yelled before running into his arms.

Harry ruffled her hair affectionately. “Where is your mother, not asleep already is she?”

“Mommy is still at work.” His ten year old daughter frowned, looking down.

“Hmmm shouldn't you be in bed? It is past your bedtime” said Harry lightly.

“Dad” murmured Lily.

“Yeah”

“Can I ask you something?” said Lily.

“Shoot”

“Can you be here more? I miss you daddy. So does mommy. I saw her crying in her room yesterday. Please dad” said Lily with tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Harry hugged his oddly perceptive daughter closer. “Remember I told you about daddy's job?”

“About how you needed to be minister of magic?” Lily looked up at him.

“Yes Lily.” Harry checked his wristwatch. “You should go to bed.”

His daughter nodded and left the room but not before taking one last look at her father. He was crying.

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]***[/FONT]
​

Wife of Candidate Harry Potter Found Dead

By

Andy Smudgley
​

Ginny Potter née Weasley wife of Minister of Magic candidate Harry Potter was pronounced dead at St Mungo's Hospital at 1:15 A.M. An unnamed Ministry source reports that the death was caused by a heart attack and that at this moment no foul play is being suspected.

Married to the famous Harry Potter who is known to us both as The Boy Who Lived and Slayer of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Ginny Potter was well known not only in Quidditch circles, but as a talented reporter of our very own Daily Prophet.

More on our dedication to Ginny Potter on page 6...

Meanwhile our political correspondent David Bodin comments that this unfortunate event will change the very nature of this election. “Yes well considering the accusations of corruption that marred Potter's tenure as Head of the Auror Office, this might just generate a sympathy vote which may...

The newspaper fell to the desk as Harry Potter dropped his face to his hands weeping.

 

Okay, so I was gonna do the one that Neren put up, but Schro got to it first. And ruined it for me. Anyone got anything else?

 

A NEW CHALLENGER HAS APPEARED: Zennith or anyone else
Line: The chamber entrance closed behind the dark haired teenager. "Tom you have nowhere to run now."
Length: Any
Time: Any

 

Uh, Yeah. I'll take that.

Edit: But I'm changing teenager to man.

 

Well, I realize that SPO already completed the challenge, but that doesn't mean I can't as well, right? Anyway, in response to:

I modified the statement slightly to fit the needs of the story. So without further ado, here it is:

------------------------------------------------------------

The war had not been kind to Hogwarts. Its purpose was to house magical children, on their ways to becoming wizards and witches respectively. Not to weather a war initiated by one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Understandably, it had been ill-prepared to withstand Voldemort's raid. Overtaken by giants, Death Eaters, and all the rest of the Dark Lord's allies, almost the entire Hogwarts student body had been annihilated.

Those that weren't went into hiding. Two of these escapeeds - Neville and Hermione - happened upon a certain Harry Potter's unconscious form in the battlefield where Voldemort had declared they would all die. Neville had slung Harry over his shoulder, Hermione behind him flinging several curses at the few Death Eaters that had followed them from the battlefield.

They'd escaped from the crumbling visage of Hogwarts by the skin of their teeth. Through several bouts of disapparation to throw off any other followers, they'd found refuge in the forbidden forest. They spent a couple days recuperating, Hermione constructing them shelter and Neville hunting for food. It wasn't until the end of the second day when Hermione and Neville were settling down to eat when Harry woke up.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Pain. Blinding pain. Harry groaned, bringing both hands up to clench his forehead. He rubbed soothing circles around his scar, futilely hoping to make the pain go away. Feeling something slick underneath his palms, he pulled them away to see his hands glistening with blood.

He slowly cracked his eyes open the tiniest bit, streams of sunlight peeking through from the enormous trees above assaulting his eyes. He tried to remember why he was here, but found his mind frighteningly blank. He forced himself to calm down, to ignore the aching pain in his forehead. Slowly, it all came back to him.

Kings Cross. Dumbledore. Little Tom Riddle. All of their conversation came back to him. He was immediately on guard. Straining his senses to locate Voldemort, or his Death Eaters, or anybody. Had they left him? How long had it been since he'd 'died'?

While Harry was agonizing over the situation, Hermione and Neville were busy eating a small meal. There wasn't much in the ways of edible food in the forest, but the two had managed to scrape by. Hermione chewed thoughtfully on the unknown meat. She wasn't sure what kind of animal it had come from, but it had a unique taste.

Working her teeth into overdrive on the tough meat, she chanced a glance over at her immobile best friend. She expected to see him on thee small cot she'd conjured for him, not sitting up and staring right back at her. She froze, the abrupt stop in all movement attracting Neville's attention. He followed her line of site, and his eyes widened.

The entire 'camp-site' became eerily still. Harry's gaze was fixed upon Hermione, a spark of confusion visible. After several moments of complete silence, Harry opened his mouth. His throat was unbelievably dry, and what was meant to be a questioning, "'Mione?" died somewhere in the middle of his throat.

Hermione jumped up, hurrying to get Harry a drink of water. Neville continued to study Harry, who was bemusedly watching Hermione fuss over him. He glanced over at Neville, a small smile playing on his lips. It died when he got a good look at him. Suddenly panicked emerald eyes traced the small area they'd been hiding in.

"'Mione, where's Ron?" Those three words stopped the bustling witch in her tracks. A wavering frown appeared on her face. Neville frowned as well. At the time of their escape, he hadn't questioned the red-heads absence, too busy avoiding Death Eaters. Hermione hadn't brought it up, so he'd guessed, correctly, that she didn't want to talk about it.

Now though, he saw her eyes shining with unshed tears. Harry, seeing this, clenched his eyes shut. He took a deep, shuddering breath. Opening his arms to Hermione, Neville was surprised to see her collapse into him, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry rubbed her back, murmuring softly in her ear.

Neville shuffled uncomfortably. This felt wrong, he decided. He shouldn't be here. The two had just experienced a horrible loss that he couldn't entirely sympathize with, and he was intruding. Sure, he'd spent time with them, and he'd like to think they were friends. They'd certainly pulled through several tough situations together. But it was nothing compared to the bond the late trio had shared.

Neville slowly stood up, and crept towards the conjured tent's exit. He glanced back, seeing the grateful look Harry was sending him. He nodded. He'd return a couple hours later to see the two asleep, Hermione clutching Harry, and Harry loosely draping his arms around her.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, as of right now I don’t anything about what happened after I confronted Voldemort. Would anyone care to explain?” They were sitting cross-legged in a circle, having just woken up a few hours ago. Hermione’s eyes were still red and puffy from last night, and she sat closely to Harry, drawing some sort of comfort from his presence. Neville noticed they were holding hands.

“Well,” Neville began hesitantly, “after you left,” there was no accusation in his tone, but Harry still flinched ever so slightly, “we all gathered in front of Hogwarts.”

“A few minutes later You-Know-Who,” Harry would have been annoyed at the apparent fear to speak Voldemort’s name, but he remembered the god-awful jinx that had been placed on it, “and his army came out of the forest. We saw Hagrid and he was carrying your…” Neville struggled for the words. Harry found them for him.

“My corpse.” Uncomfortable silence, Neville nodded mutely. Hermione picked it up.

“He spouted some nonsense about you running away, but we knew it wasn’t true,” there was conviction in her voice. Harry felt touched, and squeezed her hand gently. She smiled weakly, before continuing.

“Hagrid was carrying you, but he made him drop you. He was boasting about our imminent defeat, before chaos erupted. Everything happened so fast, it’s all a blur. I remember being next to Ron, fighting a small group of Death Eaters. One of them got behind him, and I didn’t react in time.” She took a few moments to compose herself, squeezing Harry’s hand tightly.

“We didn’t stand a chance,” the unspoken without you cut Harry deeper than if she’d shouted it in his face. “Neville and I were being chased by Death Eaters when we found you where Hagrid had dropped you.

“I held them off long enough for us to escape the Anti-Apparation fields, and we’ve been hiding here since.” Harry absorbed this, struggling to comprehend the ramifications of his actions. After a few minutes he spoke.

“What’s our plan?” His question met blank stares, and Harry realized the hard truth. They’d abandoned the idea of striking back, and were now only trying to survive. His eyes hardened.

“We can’t just sit back and let them take over. Vol-,” Hermione shot him a warning look, “He won’t stop at just Hogwarts. Hell, he won’t even stop at Britain! We can’t let him do anymore damage.”

Neville was shaking his head, “You didn’t see it Harry, they crushed everyone. The entire castle’s been taken over. Right now there’s only three of us, and we barely put a dent in You-Know-Who’s army.” Harry sat deep in thought. No one spoke for a few minutes.

“Did you get my invisibility cloak?” Hermione gave him an odd look.

“Yes, it’s over there.” She pointed to said bundle of cloth, next to his cot. Harry grinned. “Alright, I’ve got a plan. It’s going to take a lot of luck, but if we pull it off, Voldemort won’t live long enough to make another soul fragment.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Hogsmeade hadn’t survived the battle unscathed either. After the takeover of Hogwarts, a large portion of Death Eaters and werewolves had broken off to conquer the small village. They hadn’t received much opposition. Now, the streets were being frequently patrolled by Voldemort’s followers.

At this time, two such followers were standing guard in front of Honeydukes. They were engaging in idle chatter, neither paying too much attention to their surroundings. It wasn’t as if they’d left any that had dared to oppose them alive. They were just getting into the topic of a certain Chosen One when two beams of red light materialized out of nowhere and hit the both of them in rapid succession.

The two froze up, stiff as boards. None of the other guards noticed any change, as the two remained standing. The next shift started in a few hours and nobody would notice their petrification until then. The door to Honeydukes opened very slowly, closing without a sound a moment later.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the shop, Harry threw the cloak off. All three stood up and stretched sore joints, having had to huddle as close to the ground and each other as possible for the cloak to fit over them. Harry’s eyes scanned the shop, and finding nobody there, turned to his two companions.

“Alright, we’ve gotten this far, we can’t afford to blow it now.” Hermione and Neville nodded determinedly, both of their wands almost humming with magic contained. Harry lifted the trap door, allowing them to go down first, quietly shutting it behind him.

When they emerged from the one-eyed statue, the hall was empty. Wasting no time, they hurried up to the fourth floor, where they confronted one Death Eater in an ambush. Their rigid body were left in the middle of the hall. They didn’t have time to be subtle.

When they reached the seventh floor, they’d thankfully only had to deal with that one. When they arrived at the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office, they took a moment to study the two Death Eaters guarding the door.

Both seemed to be on high alert. Harry, Hermione, and Neville all decided that a surprise attack wouldn’t guarantee them victory. Deciding to go all out, Harry flung the cloak off and shot an Expelliarmus at the one on the left. His face registered his surprise, but he managed to erect a shield before the disarming spell could hit him.

He countered with a plethora of dark spell Harry didn’t care to identify. He dimly registered that Hermione and Neville had double teamed the other one and had him temporarily on the defensive.

They traded spells for a while, Harry constantly on the move to avoid the dark curses. He finally caught a break when the Death Eater sent him a spell he recognized and could Protego. Throwing up said shield, it shot back at its caster who moved out of the way, right into Harry’s spell. Deftly catching his wand, Harry stunned him. Turning towards Hermione and Neville, he saw that the Death Eater was beginning to push them back. He fired a quick spell, and he fell over, stiff as a board. All three of them were breathing hard.

“Thanks,” Hermione muttered, quickly regained her breath. All three regarded the staircase leading upwards with apprehension. A sudden nervousness enveloped Hermione and Neville, the thought of who was up there, waiting for them, terrifying. Harry was feeling what they were, but on a smaller scale, having dealt with the many times before.

The sounds of beating footsteps a floor below them alerted the trio to the fact that they didn’t have much time. They’d planned this, and they couldn’t afford to stop here. Harry lead the way, running up the staircase and bursting through the door. He was just where he thought he’d be.

Sitting in Dumbledore’s chair, regarding them with amusement. That is, until he saw Harry. Incredulousness seeped into his eyes. He’d gotten halfway through saying his last name when Harry unleashed a spell.

“Expelliarmus!” A vicious looking beam of red shot towards Voldemort, who brought his wand up to deflect it. Harry clenched his eyes shut, concentrating. He pulled with his mind at the wand in Voldemort’s hands. Come to me.

He opened his hand, and felt the smooth wood of the Elder Wand smack into it. Just like he’d known it would. A rush of power coursed through him, and the wand practically sang in his grip. He shot a binding spell at the Dark Lord. Enormous, think ropes exploded from the death stick. Voldemort didn’t stand a chance.

While he was doing this, Hermione had busied herself with activating the floo. Preparing their escape. The footsteps were getting closer now. They’d be here any minute. Voldemort’s mouth hadn’t been gagged, and he was now practically hissing in fury.

“You’ll never escape, Potter! You’re all going to die!” Harry regarded him with something akin to amusement. The footsteps grew louder. Hermione and Neville were standing nervously by the activated floo.

“Hurry up Harry! Just get it over with,” Hermione said anxiously, staring at the doorway. Harry returned his attention to the sneering dark lord at his feet.

“What are you going to do, Potter? Kill me? Murder me?” Harry grit his teeth. He had the bastard tied up like a Christmas present at his feet and he had the gall to mock him? Images of the things he’d done to stop him flashed through his mind. All the obstacles he’d overcome, just for this one moment. All the losses. Ron.

The death stick began to hum. A sickly green glow materializing at the tip. Harry glared down at Voldemort, making his intentions perfectly clear. And for the first time, he saw something that he’d thought the dark lord was incapable of feeling.

Fear.

“Murder - After all I’ve done, after all I’ve hurt and destroyed, it seems like such a small step, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t allow him a reply.

“Avada Kedavra.”

 

Er...go for it anyway. Can't be any worse.

Nice one, Menace and Stalin's Pipe Organs.

This one goes to anyone

 

Okay, so this is what I have so far. It doesn't yet have the line, but I felt like putting it up because I hate sitting on things for too long. This will likely be a one shot, and this is the first third.

“Relax. Hey, come on. It’s over.”

Ron’s hand weighed heavily on Harry’s shoulder. Harry closed his eyes and brought a hand to his face, wiping away the sweat and stress that had accumulated over the years he’d been at war.

“I try, Ron. Really. It’s just hard to accept. This morning I woke up and it was like nothing had changed.”

Ron sighed and pulled up a chair next to his longtime friend in the little used apartment they’d rented out months prior as a safe house. The years had taken their toll on the man; his red hair was as vibrant as ever but his skin had grown tight, there was an intensity in the way he carried himself that had been absent when he was a student at Hogwarts.

Harry could see the changes in his friend and assumed that they were reflected in his own appearance. He knew that time had been harder on the both of them than on any others that had managed to survive the turmoil. They’d been through the abyss, through the nightmare that was the hunt for Voldemort’s horcruxes, and they had not come back unscathed.

It is one thing to be a victim. To be an innocent unjustly damaged. There’s pain, of course, but there’s no sense of gut-wrenching guilt. No fear that you are responsible. A victim has no options.

Harry Potter had not been the victim. He was no innocent. He had made choices, decisions which had cost the lives of the uninvolved. As his mind began to slip, he felt his arm being shaken and looked up wildly.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay, Harry?”

Harry tried to clear away the cobwebs in his mind and responded in a soft tone of voice, “I’m fine. Did you say something?”

“I was asking if you’d like to visit with my parents this afternoon. I promised I’d stop by, and told them I’d ask you.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just. I can’t.”

Ron smiled lightly. “I told them you wouldn’t want to. They won’t hold it against you, of course.”

Harry nodded slightly. “I know.”

“You wan’t me to stay?”

Harry waved him off. “No, you don’t have to. Go see your parents. They’ll want to see you, I’m sure.”

At this, Ron did manage a real smile. “I haven’t really had the chance to sit down with them since things… cleared up. It’ll be nice, I guess. It feels like it’s been years.”

“That’s because it has.”

Ron sighed. “Right.”

A slow silence fell over the two men, reflecting on years gone by.

“Harry, I should probably –”

The raven haired man sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. “You can go, Ron. Don’t worry, I understand.”

Ron reluctantly stood. “I don’t just want to leave you alone, Harry. It isn’t healthy. When was the last time you left this place?”

Harry gave him a blank look. Ron held up a hand to placate him.

“I’m just saying, Harry. Try to find something… productive to do. I don’t know, maybe talk to McGonagall. As far as I’ve heard they still haven’t hired anyone. Nobody’s quite sure whether or not the positions still cursed, after all. You’d be the perfect test subject.”

Harry simply raised an eyebrow. “Test subject? Poor choice of words, Ron.”

The other man winced. “Yeah, fair enough. Doesn’t make them any less valid. You can’t just let yourself… waste away.”

“Why not?”

Ron looked at him seriously. “You know the answer to that. There are people who care about you.”

“Not as many as there should be.” Harry said softly in a bitter tone.

Ron sat down again, this time facing towards the other man. “It isn’t your fault. You can’t do this, not again. Not now. Harry, we’ve won.”

“At what cost?”

“At the cost that was required!” Ron almost shouted. “And I would pay it again! She would too, Harry. You think I don’t miss her every single moment of every single day? You think that I don’t care about the people we’ve lost, our friends who were killed? I loved her, Harry, and the fact that she isn’t sitting across from us now tears out my heart in ways I can’t describe. But it happened, Harry. It happened. And the war is over now. What we did was not in vain. And that’s the absolute most important thing. So get off your ass and get to Hogwarts. You should at least talk to McGonagall, hear what she has to say. Stand the fuck up, Harry. I’m not leaving until you do.”

Harry’s downcast gaze turned up to the redhead. “I can’t. Ron, I just. I can’t.”

“You sure as hell can, Harry. I know you. If you don’t, you’ll just keep spiraling further. You don’t want that. I don’t want that for you. And I’d hate myself for it in the end if I didn’t turn you away from that path.”

Harry sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. When he came up for air he looked at Ron and spoke softly, “When the hell did you become so smart?”

“Someone had to pick up the slack. We both know that was never going to be you.”

Harry managed a small smile. “You can go, Ron. Don’t worry, you can. I’ll head over to Hogwarts soon enough.”

Ron gave him a look. “Today.”

Harry nodded. “Don’t worry. Today. But may I please shower first? I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, that you are. Good luck, Harry.”

Harry took in a deep breath. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Ron smiled as he walked towards the door. “Don’t mention it.”

~~

Harry stood at the entrance to the grounds of Hogwarts. He was keeping his promise to Ron, he would talk to McGonagall. But something ached at him, a thought, and a memory from years ago. A piece of unfinished business that no one save the now deceased old headmaster had known of.

As he pushed open the iron gates, he mused on those events that had happened a decade before. It had been a miracle, really, that Ron hadn’t hated him from then on. But his friend never blamed him.

Harry knew that he should have. It was his first kill, his first mistake. It was the first time he had been neither fast enough nor strong enough. And Ginny Weasley had paid the price for his incompetence.

It was a cold truth, really. Why he hadn’t been able to celebrate, to escape mornings bathed in sweat and fear. Voldemort’s horcruxes had been destroyed, that fact was true enough. Tom Riddle’s diary burned through with acid from the fang of a Basilisk. But it hadn’t been enough, he hadn’t been in time. He’d been lucky to that point, the phoenix and the sword, he’d slain the basilisk and had come face to face with the image, a soul torn from the pages of a book. Riddle spoke, and he listened.

Why the hell had he listened? If only…

But he had. And once he realized his mistake, it was too late. He plunged the fang through the pages of the book – but it was just a book. Empty pages with no more meaning left to find.

Ginny Weasley was dead. And Tom Riddle had become real.

Harry reached the main entrance to the castle just in time to escape the light rain that had begun to fall on the village of Hogsmeade and the surrounding area. The doors swung open for him, welcoming him back to the place he’d called home for so many years. As he stepped across the threshold the memories pounded even harder.

He’d fled. It had been the only option. With the king of snakes slain, Harry had believed there to be no way out of the Chamber for the now corporeal Tom Riddle. He’d taken tail and flown out of the mess that had been left below, grabbing Ron and the git Lockhart as he went. He hadn’t even brought her body back.

Dumbledore did that. The old man’s eyes had been weary and strewn with grief as he explained what had happened to Molly and Arthur. It was the worst moment of their lives.

Dumbledore had also told Harry that there was no sign of Riddle anywhere. He was gone.

And he had never turned up. Throughout the war, Voldemort’s resurrection and subsequent defeat, Tom Riddle was nowhere to be found. He was a loose end.

And Harry was tired of loose ends. He looked up to see a smiling Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, striding towards him with long, purposeful steps. And Harry smiled back.

~~

 

I'll take one, if anyone has an idea.

 

I liked this - I really did - but from these lines:

I thought it was going to be a cannibalism fic, wherein Harry awoke to find Neville and Hermione sharing a little meal, that later turned out to be either Ron or some other victim of the Hogwarts battle. I even thought for a minute that Harry's "spark of confusion" would be because Hermione had blood on her face or something. I guess I expect too many crack-fics in this thread.

 

I've taken this as my 1000th post on DLP. I originally was going to post an extravagant Skitterleap update, but a TGYH seemed more fitting. Also, yeah, it's a pretty mental story.

It had been an unsettling day in the world of Harry Potter. Every day since Voldemort's defeat had been unsettling. Such feelings came after the very event you were born to complete was completed. What was there left for him?

Fuck all, that's what. Fuck all.

His relationship with Ginny had been short lived. Not that it was particularly surprising. After all, who wants to be with a man who's shaggy haired, unshaven, reeks of BO, sleeps until twelve every day and stays up late into the night watching German pornography?

Harry Potter was depressed.

This much he knew.

But knowing it didn't make an awful lot of difference, who on earth was he going to tell? The wizarding world had no concept of psychological healing and a muggle psychologist?

Harry could imagine the expression on her face as he told her his problems and his quick incarceration in an insane asylum.

His friends too were gone, lost to the alien world of adult life, relationship, kids, and responsibilities. Things Harry would just rather without.

Not that they hadn't tried. At first, when he'd slowly become a recluse Ron and Hermione had tried to draw him out of his shell with invitations to dinner, to quidditch games, to see his godchildren. Eventually these invitations had tapered off; they'd reasoned to themselves that it was acceptable for him to be a little morose, that he'd get over it in time.

Again, when he'd started drinking too much they'd tried to intervene. He'd been forced to attend the same invitations and when he began to routinely turn up drunk, the invitations tapered off.

He hadn't spoken to Hermione in three months, Ron in five.

Good riddance.

Today however was particularly unsettling. He'd been called out of the office twice, bleary eyed and unshaven to deal with routine matters that they wouldn't have normally bothered him with. To be honest, field work in general bored him, he'd much rather be back at his desk sleeping and pretending to do paper work.

However Jenkins, one of the little snots that had passed him on the promotional ladder, who was now Head Auror and well on his way to becoming Minister in a few years, had decided to be the fourth such person to try and cash in on Harry's celebrity status by sending him out to do routine field work, look good for the Aurors and such.

Not that much of Harry's celebrity remained any more.

No matter how you span it defeating the Dark Lord through a plan you didn't devise, with a spell that you didn't cast and with the power of Love didn't really sound very impressive when examined at any level of detail.

Not that Harry was bothered. He'd much rather slip into complete disrepute and have fewer reporters and fans knocking at his door any day.

Regardless, twice today Harry had been out and done irrelevant, mundane things. Twice Harry had been incredibly pissed off over the whole thing. Didn't Jenkins know how trying hangovers were?

So, when the third paper aeroplane in nine hours landed on his desk, Harry was incredibly tempted to set it alight and pretend he'd never got it.

But the fact remained that he needed this job. Alcohol wasn't going to pay for itself, not even for a 'celebrity'. So grudgingly, Harry opened the aeroplane and read the five words printed there.

URGENT. ST MUNGOS. COME IMMEDIATELY.

"What now?" Harry asked himself, crumpling the paper in one hand. "Bed pan explosion?"

Another wave of nihilistic depression momentarily threw him, but eventually he rose to his feet, picked up his jacket and headed in the direction of the apparition room.

Two minutes later he was striding towards the reception desk in St. Mungos when he ran into Jenkins who turned to look at him in some surprise.

"Potter?" he asked.

"You sent for me sir?"

There was a heavy dosing of irony ladled onto the 'sir'. Not even Jenkins was stupid enough to miss it and he flashed Harry a dirty look. Harry smiled, pleased with himself. Jenkins swore under his breath.

"I sent for Luden," he said finally, with a sort of hopelessness.

"He was out. I'll have to do. What's going on?"

"Some nutter's taken over the fourth floor, got hold of a wand somehow and chased everyone out. Irons went up not too long ago and he chased him off."

Harry's mood perked up considerably at this news. Irons was his least favourite colleague, or perhaps second to Jenkins, but either way a healthy dose of embarrassment for him did Harry's happiness a world of good.

"Do we know who the 'nutter' is?" asked Harry

"Gilderoy Lockhart," replied Jenkins with a roll of his eyes.

Harry brightened further still.

"Good old Lockers," he said with a grin. "Still fucking up everything in sight, I see."

"You know him?" asked Jenkins in some astonishment.

"Know him?" asked Harry, first in astonishment and then in an accusatory manner. "Let me tell you that Gilderoy Lockhart taught me everything I know about."

"Oh, well, yes, well-" Jenkins didn't quite seem to know how to respond to this. "I don't suppose you could talk to him? Try and talk him out of whatever it is that he's doing?"

"Talk to him? Just try and stop me."

"Excellent," replied Jenkins, he too looked more happy at this turn of events.

Harry assumed it had something to do with some sort of opinion poll in the coming weeks, but had no desire to learn anything more and walked away in the direction of the stairs. Jenkins' voice trailed after him.

"Do try not to kill him Harry; it's the Gazette's March Polls tomorrow!"

It took Harry about ten seconds to find the room that Lockhart had taken command of; it was the one with his pictures and faeces smeared liberally on the doors. Harry had no idea what it was that kept his pictures stuck to the door and no desire to find out.

He acquired a mop from a broom closet a few doors down and cast a bubblehead charm on himself. Then using the end of the mop to push the door open, walked with not undue haste into the room.

When he saw what was in front of him, his mouth fell open in shock.

The room had been enlarged to perhaps three times its normal size and Gilderoy Lockhart was perched on a machine that filled almost the entire space. The contraption was comprised of a vast metal box, along the sides of which a variety of huge metal cogs were pinned and protruded. A chimney, perhaps twelve feet tall stuck from the top, narrowly avoiding the room's ceiling.

A long and complicated system of wire runners extruded from several parts as though they might carry a quaffle or some other ball of a similar size. Every inch of the machine that wasn't taken up by these runners, the chimney or the gears was liberally adorned with piping.

Harry stared and Gilderoy Lockhart beamed.

"Harry m'boy!" he cried. "I knew you'd come! Just knew it!"

"Hello Professor," said Harry tactfully, finally managing to close his mouth. "How are you?"

"Fantastic now that you're here of course! I'd return the pleasantry, but I can see you're not very well, m'boy!"

"No, I can't say I am," replied Harry deciding truth was the best option when dealing with something like this. He'd never had any particular training for this sort of incident, but it seemed the sane option to keep Lockhart compliant.

"Why ever is that, I heard you topped the old rotter, thought that entitled you to the princess?"

"Life isn't really like fairytales though is it?"

Lockhart looked thoughtful at this.

"You're right, I suppose it doesn't," he said, somewhat mournfully. "Did you know that I was a hero of sorts?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "The best."

Lockhart seemed much more enthused by this and leapt to his feet. For the first time Harry noticed what was behind him; a giant lever.

Harry had no idea what the purpose of this machine was, but he knew suddenly that the last thing he wanted was for Lockhart to pull that lever, especially with a hospital full of people around him.

"Alright Gilderoy, you see the thing is, I was sent up here to check on you," said Harry.

"That's why you think you're here," replied Gilderoy in a sing-song voice.

"Err, right," said Harry. "The thing is I'm going to have to tell them that you're all right. Is it okay if I leave?"

"Of course," replied Gilderoy happily.

"And you won't start the machine without me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, dear boy."

"Alright."

Harry felt confident enough to return to the corridor where he was gratified to find Jenkins waiting for him with several more aurors in tow. Harry ushered them a little further down the corridor and then turned to Jenkins.

"Listen, he's sitting on-" Harry paused, what was Lockhart sitting on? "Something. Don't give me that look, it's the size of about two train carriages and it has more clockwork than the Minister's Wife's underpants."

Harry received several confused looks in response to this comment, but he ignored them.

"Listen, this thing is huge. I don't know what it does, but I do know that it does nothing good. You're going to want to evacuate this building and possibly the entire road."

"You think he plans to blow himself up?"

"I don't know," replied Harry. "But whilst he's lucid, you said he's already been violent and let's face it, you said it yourself; he's mental. So you need to evacuate everyone that you possibly can from around here."

Jenkins looked at him in confusion.

"Even the muggles?"

"Yes, the muggles!" said Harry vehemently. "Call it a terrorist attack or a gas leak or something. Either way, if this thing explodes and I'm going to wager it does, you don't want anyone anywhere near it."

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you think? I'm going to go back in there and try and talk him off the damn thing."

"Alright, we'll get them evacuated. Good luck."

"Do it quickly," insisted Harry and turned back into the room.

He adopted a huge smile as he pushed the door open with his mop again and marched back inside.

"Sorry about that Gilderoy. Now, what is it you were saying?"

Lockhart ignored the question and fixed him with an interested look.

"Who were you talking to?"

"My boss, I was asking him not to disturb us."

"You have a boss? I thought you were supposed to be a hero."

"There's no such thing as heroes," said Harry.

"Oh don't be ridiculous," laughed Lockhart. "You and I, we're part of a crazy heroic renegade breed. We're the kings of the earth."

"If you say so," replied Harry with a small smile and sat at the matron's chair beside the door. "Do you remember the one about the werewolf, the one you told me in my second year?"

"Do I!" exclaimed Lockhart and broke into a long and winding narrative.

Harry had originally intended to use Lockhart's major weakness against him; his ego. By getting him to talk about some of his exploits, he bought enough time for the hospital and surrounding locations to be evacuated. But as he sat and listened he began to recognise long sections of Lockhart's story and soon realised that he was just repeating his book 'Wanderings with Werewolves' word for word.

Harry felt two massive stabs of pity and sympathy. Perhaps Lockhart was right, perhaps the pair of them were two of a breed; vain, pathetic clingers, who clutched at their purpose, their laurels, because they couldn't face the real world.

Perhaps that was what it was to be a hero. Perhaps even he'd be lucky enough to have stories written about him in the future, for people to remember his name as a great wizard, the defeater of the darkest wizard of the age, a real hero.

But that's all they'd be; stories. Harry himself knew the truth. Anything heroic about him was long gone. Gone were his glory days when he was quidditch captain and star, when he was the most important person in the wizarding world. Gone were the days of Dumbledore and Potter, the beacons of hope in a world gone awry. Gone was his place in the world.

All that was left was this shit covered room, this crazy old man and a machine that threatened to blow them both up at any moment.

Harry sighed.

"-And then I grabbed the wolf," said Lockhart. "I grabbed the wolf. I grabbed the wolf. I grabbed him and-"

He looked hopelessly at Harry, it was such a pathetic expression, and Harry couldn't help but smile back at him.

"I've fucking forgotten it," said Lockhart.

"That's alright," said Harry brightly. "It wasn't true anyway."

"Wasn't it? Great scot."

"No."

A strange silence fell between them, one made up of old memories and broken dreams.

"Did you like Hogwarts?" asked Harry.

"What's that?" replied Lockhart.

"While you were there, at school and when you came back to teach, did you like it?"

"Can't say I remember much about it, old boy. How about you?"

"The happiest days of my life," admitted Harry. "There was this spot by the lake, where my dad and his friends used to sit. And when I had a free moment in the summer, I'd go there too and just sit. Watch the sun go down over the lake and feel close to him. I never knew him, y'know, my dad."

Gilderoy nodded and Harry wiped tears from his eyes.

"Tell me Gilderoy, was this what you wanted from life? Was this what you envisaged as a little boy?"

"Yes," announced Gilderoy happily. "I'm a hero, aren't I?"

"Not really," replied Harry, the tone in his voice subdued.

"If I weren't, why would I be here?" he asked.

"I have no idea," said Harry.

Another prolonged silence. Jenkins must have evacuated everyone by now. It was time to ask the question that he'd been wondering the entire time he'd been here.

"So what does the machine do Gilderoy?" he asked.

"You don't know?" asked Lockhart in complete astonishment.

Harry shook his head.

"Should I?"

"Why else are you here?"

Harry couldn't think of a reaction that wouldn't provoke him so instead he turned the question back on him.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

"To help me, of course!" declared Lockhart, he was visibly distressed now; apparently the conversation was no longer to his liking.

"Help you do what?"

"Take our reward! We are heroes after all."

Harry could see the madness that had perked up in his eyes and his hand drifted subconsciously to his wand.

"You think that pulling that lever will give us some sort of reward?" asked Harry.

Gilderoy opened his arms wide up and screamed in apparent frustration.

"Can't you open your eyes for just one moment and see what is right in front of you? This is the future of wizards, of England, of humankind. This is the moment we've all been born for, careening towards it without conscious thought."

"Err, right," said Harry.

"With one throw of this lever, the entire world will be changed forever. Together we will cast off the shackles of this world and explode upwards and outwards to new horizons, to the stars and beyond!"

"To infinity?" asked Harry, giggling despite the gravity of the situation.

"And beyond!" declared Lockhart happily, pleased that Harry seemed to be getting the gist.

"Okay," said Harry placating. "The thing is Gilderoy, fun as this has been catching up on old times. I have absolutely no intention of letting you pull that lever, so why don't you come down."

Lockhart's face twisted into one of pain and betrayal.

"No, you can't!" he shouted, wheeling away from Harry and back towards the lever, Harry went hurriedly for his wand. "You were supposed to help me, not do this, you can't, I won't let you!"

As he reached for the lever, Harry's stunner caught him in the side, knocking him away and dropping him to the floor. With two quick vaults, Harry hoisted himself up the side of the machine and pulled Gilderoy's unconscious form away from the lever.

A flick of his wand brought the chair he'd been sitting on floating up to meet him, another turned it into a stretcher with legs and a third levitated Gilderoy onto it.

Harry watched as the stretcher sprouted cords to tie him in place and staggered off in the direction of the hallway and safety.

Now alone in the room, Harry dropped from the machine and headed towards the door, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. But on an impulse, turned to the lever and saw it silhouetted against the setting sun clearly visible through the enchanted window behind. Something about it reminded him of staring across the lake on a summer's evening and not for the first time since he'd dropped it in the forbidden forest; Harry wished he'd kept the resurrection stone.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams," he whispered to himself in the silence.

Then, before he knew what he was doing, Harry had climbed back onto the machine and the lever was before him. He touched it gently, feeling the coarse grain of the wood beneath his fingers.

Lockhart had believed it the salvation of heroes. The reward for a life squandered in the service of the people. The reward for saving the innocent. The reward for saving the world.

Did Harry think that? Perhaps. Even if it exploded, Lockhart might still be right. Perhaps dying in a fireball was Harry's reward. What was there left anyway? He had no friends, no family, no career to speak of, nothing anchored him here anymore. Perhaps this was his reward; the easy way out.

Impulsively, Harry threw the lever with a flourish and the machine roared to life, the hundred or so gears whirring around him, steam hissing from the pipes, steam belching from the chimney. A number of huge silver balls rolled from slots in the machine and ran down the metal tracks he'd spotted earlier. He'd been right!

Excitement and terror whipped through Harry in equal measures as the entire machine began to shake uncontrollably. He began to laugh but the sound was drowned by the whistling of steam grew louder and louder, the clattering of the silver balls increased and the whirring of the gears built up into a grinding, whirring sound so loud that Harry couldn't hear himself think for the cacophony around him.

Then with an almighty bang, everything stopped.

Harry stood very still for a moment. Holding his breath.

Nothing had happened.

Absolutely nothing.

Harry chuckled to himself, walked over and sat down, his legs dangling over the side of the machine. He laughed again and stared up at the ceiling.

Absolutely fucking nothing!

With a little shuddering breath, Harry let his head drop to his hands and let the tears fall.​