Disclaimer: Beer me.

A/N: Now I know the rumour was this chappie would take the best part of two months, but I’ve had a rather productive week. Slammed out three uni assignments and wrote about 9,000 words of this chapter over the last two days. Here is Atlantis, folks, in all of her ancient glory… let me know what you think.

-Joe

*~*~*~*

Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time

Chapter 20 – Strawberry Fields

I’ve had the chance to be insane...asylum from the falling rain.

--Chili Peppers

With Tonks’ hand in my right and Fleur’s in my left, we stepped forward to brush the sparkling curtain of mist. And nothing much happened, save the roof of the crumbling cavern began to fade away, the cathedral domes overhead became a wash of bruised purple sky, roiling with clouds of devastating potential, and we left the world behind...

Then it began to hurt.

Of course it did.

Nothing this important could ever be gained easily, or without enough blood spilt to dye the Pacific bright red.

A thousand knifes of red-hot iron pierced my skin, my eyes rolled and boiled in their sockets and a shower of molten, hissing lead drowned all thought, all sense save for the maddening, endless pain. The Cruciatus curse on overdrive, kicked into third gear already doing a hundred miles an hour...

YEEHAW!

I rode that wave of pain across the space between worlds, rode that motherfucker down through the moments between seconds, and over the impossible gap in forever. It was always, always one helluva ride.

The cavern, the mosaic, the rain of spells, and Dumbledore disappeared and in their place was a between space of old magic and a pathway of forgotten light. The road to Atlantis, the speckled road to forever suspended on silver wings.

There were memories on that road. Scarred memories of the future’s past.

“What do you think the kids will remember of the war? The first-years and younger?” I held my head in my hands, fighting a headache – a migraine of epic proportions.

“Grim-faced Aurors patrolling the castle? The threat of attack, the sense that something’s wrong with the world...” A pause. “And they’ll remember you, of course, they’ll remember Harry Potter. The Chosen One – the light against the dark. You’ll be legend, Harry.”

“No, they’ll not remember it that way,” Neville Longbottom said, drawing deep on a warm, comforting cigar. It looked out of place in his grim, blood-stained hands. “They’ll remember Honeydukes going out of business... they’ll remember Quidditch being cancelled.” He paused. “Aye, but I suppose they’ll remember you, Harry. You’re the hero.”

“Perhaps that’s the best way to remember it,” Tonks said. “Better than the mass graves, the killing fields, the cost to the Muggles...”

Something was rising out of the pain, out of the sparkling darkness. It was something I’d fought so hard to see, something I’d set the world ablaze for... what was that old line? The one full of hopelessness, full of regret and bitter angst at my existence? Oh yeah...

The odds are long, life’s unfair and death’s no better.

But you know what?

Fuck the odds.

You fuck the odds because looking back and counting the cost is worse than looking forward and seeing how far is left to go, seeing how much has been lost and how much is left to give. Blood, sweat, and tears – that’s all I got, boss – but it won’t be enough.

The sky is grey, the always-grey of Europe, but it is a different grey today – a smoky grey that rises on prejudice, that saw the souls of six million not too long ago, that sees the souls of so much more now. Death and all his friends are busy... far too busy.

Even that scythe-wielding bastard must be tired, I thought, gazing out over the fields of smouldering corpses. Here lay the Muggles of ol’ London Town. Here lay the remains of so much hate and anger and violence, borne on the wings of power and control. Here lay chaos, and here there were monsters.

The year was 2000, the day was endless. Of course it was. Voldemort’s furnaces were screaming today. And the Chosen One, the light against the dark... I was nothing against that fury. Nothing save a reminder of what could have been, of the before, and the not-quite-ready, can ya dig it?

Fleur’s grip was strong and Tonks’ was even tighter as the maelstrom abated, as the pain bled away on the falling rain. Slowly, but ever so surely, the world reasserted itself. Only it wasn’t the same world. The pain had been so bad that the reward had to be good. And here we were now, after the long weeks, here we were...

The sky was azure diamonds.

The sky was aflame. Memory had brought me here, brought me to the edge of an unforgiving, relentless war. I wasn’t ready.

How could I ever be ready?

I had to be ready.

“VOLDEMORT!”

Echoed the cry across the long... the desolate... the wastelands of time.

And why?

“Because ‘Arry Potter is worth ze monsters,” Fleur said.

Maybe yes and maybe no...?

Despite it all, my headache was fading... not disappearing, no, that was too much to hope for. But fading... I could breathe, breathe and feel. My ruined hand was ablaze, my joints ached with the strain. I’d been kicking ass and taking names all day, and the cost was brutal.

There was a great shock and roar and an unexpected thump into the ground.

“’Arry...”

The sky was still diamonds. Azure, twinkling diamonds under an inferno of soft purple menace. I felt uneasy. I felt out of sorts. I felt like death warmed up.

“I’m here.”

But I wasn’t there, I wasn’t... I was still floating on memory, in the worlds of better-left-forgotten...

And it’s like a drug, when all’s said and done. We become the demons we fight, because the furnaces scream beneath the fields and no one listens, no one cares...

Hogwarts to ruin, as all things must, and the world do-teeter forever, boss, on the brink of complete annihilation and promised, desperate salvation. Salvation I bear on the back of a broken, torn soul and a nightmare I cannot destroy.

Be prepared to die.

If you want to live, and if you want to make a difference – God help you if you do, God help you if you can – then be prepared to die.

And be prepared to drag the screaming innocence of humanity down into hell with you. Mercy be done – maybe yes, maybe no.

And no matter how hard it gets, how fucking impossible, always – always – tell yourself that you can do it, that you’ll make it. Even if you know the taste of that bullshit well, you never admit defeat.

I can think of no better advice than that.

Save run and hide, and try not to fall asleep, less the nightmares of the waking world happen upon you and, with a grumbling stomach, show you what it means to be a ‘hero’ and how so few moments matter at your last.

Was I prepared to die?

Maybe yes, maybe no – but you know the answer, don’t you? Of course I wasn’t, and that is why I force Time to my own dark ends, time and time again.

“Time’s up, Harry.”

I laughed. “Oh, Time is never up.”

“You ran a fair race, boy – from Godric’s Hollow to my father’s gravestone, from the shores of Atlantis to the ruins of Hogwarts. No one can fault your resolve, your will, at the end.” A heavy pause. “Despite my best efforts, you will be remembered as the greatest threat to my power.”

I gazed unblinking into the crimson eyes of Lord Voldemort – my nemesis, my equal – and laughed again. It was laugh or scream. That’s what it always comes down to in the end; the right kind of insanity. Overhead, a sharp bolt of clear blue lightning sizzled through the clouds, cutting my abrupt laughter short with a clap of thunder. “Maybe yes… maybe no. There’s not many left to remember this time. You win this round, Voldemort.”

“Well, you and I both know there was never any doubt as to who would emerge triumphant.”

“I’ve not given up yet, you know,” I replied, almost conversationally, as if over drinks. I guess I might have sounded a little regretful.

“You are dead, Harry – the race is run. It is futile to resist now. There is no one left to die in your place.”

I had fallen against a steel bracket supporting the remains of the Ministry. It was cold and it was dark, and I was alone. Thick railroad spikes of rusted iron were punched through the flesh of my wrists, and two more through the meat of my thighs. I was literally nailed to a cross. It would be rather symbolic if there was anyone left alive to appreciate that crap.

“I guess I’ll see you in another life then…” I whispered.

I pulled myself from the memories, from the wastelands of time, and forced the searing pain back where it belonged – in the nothingness between this world and the last. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was a task I was well-versed in.

I don’t know how much time had slipped by, but I managed to sit up. To sit up and survey the world around me. It must have only been a few moments, because Tonks and Fleur were doing the same. Tonks still held my hand in a death-grip, her knuckles white. Jason and Grace were not far away, strewn amongst the supply trunks.

“Now that hurt,” Tonks said, gritting her teeth. “Harry, where are we? Is this…?”

And of course it was. As I’d already noted, the sky was twilit diamonds cast across a purple sea. The ground was soft beneath us, spongy like moss. We were on a hillside. Halfway up a trepid rise that stretched away into the sky for what must have been miles. From our vantage point, we held a commanding view…

And that view held the most terrific, the most deadly, the most awe-inspiring range of mountains ever conceived. The twisted peaks were covered in electric-blue snow, cast from the sight far below, yet the range extended for miles and miles up toward the heavens. The peaks brushed the sky, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if they pierced the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

Great crags of overhanging rock and cliff faces a dozen miles high played tricks with the eye, creating a sense of size so numbing that it couldn’t be properly seen. And that was just the boundaries of this new world…

Down and away to the right, just past Atlantis itself, miles upon miles of black rock and twisted thrusts of reef, marred with burnt coral, brushed up against the Lost City. It was the coastline, and there should have been an ocean beyond it… but that ocean had long since dried up, leaving behind a terrifying, lifeless wasteland. The sight of it made me feel sick…

I turned away.

Behind us all rose two twisted pillars of dark obsidian stone. Dead and lifeless now, the Gates of Atlantis had done their task… and the Lost City sat far below, surrounded by natural barriers of impenetrable rock and a dead ocean. A haze of indigo light merged with neon-blue ensconced over the spires and outlandish architecture below.

“Merde...” Fleur whispered. “Eet looks so small, and yet...”

“It’s huge,” I assured her, and despite my bruised and bleeding condition, I managed a wink. “We’re just far away... ten miles at least.”

And we were. Despite the uninterrupted view we had into the valley below, the commanding view of Atlantis aglow in the evening, we were still miles up above the lost city. Halfway up a mountain that touched the stars. Far below, in warmer climes, towers that rivalled the highest skyscrapers back home, and towers that eclipsed such modern heights, looked like pinpricks spun across an impossible map.

“What do you feel right now?” I asked the group at large, and then laughed. “We’ve just escaped one world and now… behold another! What do you feel?”

“Afraid,” Arnair said, and that was enough for everyone. Fear.

Below lay the unknown, the better-left-forgotten, and we were so small against the backdrop of this impossible place. But there wasn’t just fear. No, not at all – there was wonder, astonishment, and all manner of conflicting emotions as the goal of not just one lifetime, but more than I could recall, came into sight...

Yet above all there was pain. The pain of remembrance, oh goddamn it, and the pain of existence. I raised a bloodied and broken hand to my forehead.

That scar – my scar – my infamous lightning-bolt scar, was burning...

*~*~*~*

There’s no quick fix for these dirty tricks.

And that one, ladies and gentlemen, was free.

*~*~*~*

“Dumbledore really came through for us, didn’t he?” I asked the group as we gathered our supplies. Half the trunks had tumbled down the hillside a few hundred feet from the impact of our travels, but everything – and everyone – seemed to be in one piece. Except me. I was short a few fingers.

“Why didn’t he stop you?” Tonks asked. “Even now, with that city down there staring me in the face, even now this is all still insane.”

“’Arry, you are bleeding terribly.”

Fleur hadn’t left my side, neither had Tonks, and Jason and Grace remained close, almost huddled together. I could see Jason’s mind taking it all in, processing the whole damn world around us. He’d be just fine. Grace looked like she was about to throw up. It felt strange to have her along this time.

I held up my left hand and gazed at the broken and missing fingers, at my fresh oozing stumps and sighed. “This was worth a few fingers, don’t you think?”

“No,” Tonks said. “Here, let me, Harry… does it hurt?” She tapped my hand with her wand.

I shook my head and told the truth anyway. “Yeah it stings like a motherfu—”

“A few broken bones – shattered bones – and the missing digits, of course.” Tonks shook her head. “I can stop the bleeding. The bones will have to mend with some of those potions in one of the trunks… there’s nothing I can do for the fingers.”

I shrugged and dropped her a wink. “No matter.” My eyes were drawn away from the people around me and down again to Atlantis. It looked so peaceful in the strange afterglow of the perpetual twilight around us, bathing the world in shades of purple and blue… I had a thought. “Quite ironic really, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Jason asked.

I held up both my hands to the group. The full one and the maimed one. “Now I’ve got a big hand and a little hand… just like a clock.” I snorted a laugh. “An infernal clock...”

It was as good few minutes before I could stop giggling at my own stunning wit. It had been a long few weeks getting to this point, and the sight of the city below lifted my mood more than any amount of stolen kisses from Fleur.

Well… maybe yes and maybe no to that.

The increased burning in my scar, coupled with the resurgence of that damnable headache, brought reality – this new and shiny reality – crashing back down upon my shoulders. We were still ten miles out from the city, but we were also extremely exposed on this cresting hillside.

“Come on,” I said. “We need to head down and find somewhere to set up a base of operations…” That sounded like I knew what I was doing. Good.

I was still playing the first-time-here card, but I knew exactly where I was going. The Shipyards. The massive docks of Atlantis, where we could hide from Voldemort and his Death Eaters right in the heart of the city… I’d done it before. There was even weapons there, along with basic facilities that I could get up and running with a bit of spellwork. Thinking of what I could recall from previous lives, previous crimes, I felt a little intimidated at all the work that still had to be done.

“Getting here was the easy part,” I said. It had been anything but this time, yet in a few days, the next few weeks and months, all of the effort expended in getting to the Lost City – the Found City – would seem like a drop in the ocean weighed against what trials lay ahead.

The least of all would be tearing a hole back to the proper world before September 1st and preventing the annihilation of Hogwarts.

But these were thoughts for later, after we were off this mountain and safely hidden within the wonderland below. A wonderland full of ancient, deadly magic, a hibernating demonic army, and more than a few dark wizards.

We began to move out, and as we did it began to snow – the heavens opened up and a rain of pure silver flakes, sparkling and warm, followed us down the mountainside.

*~*~*~*

You’re in my arms, sweetheart, but you’re not breathing…

*~*~*~*

A river of raw magic, bleeding over cliffs ten miles high, barred our path as we descended towards Atlantis.

It was a quiet place, this whole world – something my presence would soon change – and it was still hard for me to get my head around the fact that we’d left the rest of the world, everything and everyone, behind. I wondered what had become of Chronos and Saturnia – had they somehow followed? I had to assume they had, and act accordingly.

But for now, even as tired and as beaten as I was, there was time to rest. A few scant hours where no one needed killing, where there were no puzzles to solve or lost treasures to find. For a few scant hours there was just a trek down a mountainside towards a fairytale.

“What iz zat?” Fleur asked of the river streaming away to our right. We were so high up that the air was a struggle to breathe. It should have been cold, but the blizzard of falling snow-sparks was, if anything, warm. Behind us I levitated the trunks in a neat little pile.

“Raw magic,” I said. About six feet wide and riddled with offshoots and tributaries, all of them pooling towards the sheer drop nearby, the magic flowed like water speckled with quicksilver. A heavy heat rose from the river, a comforting heat. “That’s magic untapped, a vein of the stuff that makes the world – and the universe – keep spinning.”

“You’re kidding,” Tonks said. “How could you know that, Harry? There’s nothing like this back… back home.”

“No…” I paused. “At least none that’s easy to reach… and for good reason. An open vein like this is trouble, danger. One wrong spell and the whole thing goes boom.” That was an understatement. “How do you think Atlantis was blasted into this world in the first place?”

“This is what sunk the Lost City?” Grace asked, clinging to Arnair. “I don’t understand.”

“Me neither,” and that was half-true, “just steer clear of it whenever we come across it. Where it gathers… strange things can happen.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged—“Thrice damn your modesty, Harry. You are the last hero. You echo back and forth across time and the ripples of what you have done – and what you will do – are legend.”—and memory burnt through the headache again—The spirit shook her head and one clear arm of sparkling water came up to rest on my shoulder. Her touch sent ripples of raw pleasure, hot and sure, through my body. I felt myself growing hard…—but I forced it away.

“Harry, what do you mean?” Tonks was insistent.

“It’s magic,” I said. “It’s alive… it can be sentient. Don’t treat it lightly, is all.”

So we skirted the river and headed down what was clearly an old path, cobbled with broken stone and overgrown with mossy weeds. Atlantis drew ever closer now, and the whole thing began to seem that much more real.

The city’s foreign architecture and ancient design came into relief against the backdrop of the darkening sky. It looked beyond it’s time, that much was for certain. It looked like it could’ve been an alien world, and I suppose in a way it was. It was futuristic, yet most of it was in utter ruin…

The lights were on, though, so someone was home…

Towers scraped the sky, glass domes extended over stadium-sized fields, and walkways stretched from the peak of one building to the next – bridges built in the air over the city. Neon-blue lighting ran up and down the streets and throughout hundreds of the buildings. That was normal, though, and it came from the conduit of magic running beneath the city. A near-eternal source of energy powering devices and keeping the city running even after its defeat.

One tower rose above all others in the heart of the city. And it shone like a beacon in the darkness. It was a dark spire of the same obsidian stone as the gates had been, and it was huge. Even at this distance, I could see the unnatural smoothness of the rock, the polished finish and metal trim. Blue lights ran up the tower in a spiral and at the very top, still far below us, a single white sphere of fire ignited a flat plateau.

“What are you staring at, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked. Some of the sense of adventure had left her voice. She was afraid. They all were.

“Voldemort’s in there,” I said, eliciting a sting of pain in my scar. Thoughts were dangerous things. “In that big tower with the white light up top.”

I saw Tonks shiver. “He’s that close…?”

I nodded. “We’re going to avoid him and the Death Eaters for as long as we can.” I took a deep breath. “But eventually we’ll face him here, ladies – and Jason – and when we do you can’t hesitate, okay.” I chuckled and rested a hand on Tonks’ shoulder. “No one would grudge you a Killing Curse if it blasts that son of a bitch back into the ether, Tonks.”

“A… killing curse,” Jason said, taking off his glasses to clean them on the scruff of his shirt. “Don’t have to think too hard about that one.”

“Why didn’t Dumbledore stop you, Harry?” Tonks asked, not so much changing the subject as trying to understand.

“Stop me?” I grinned. “He would have joined me if he could, Tonks. Come on, we’ll walk and talk.”

The soft, falling flakes of light began to thin as we trekked down towards the city. The path had become easier, wider. Almost to grazing land and the beginnings of the city itself. Giant aqueducts, as ruined as the ones we had left behind in Italy, were cut into the rock away to our left. Once again, there was a sense that this whole damn thing was too big for me – for anyone. But I was all the world had – Fate damns the innocent, can ya dig it? – and this time I would have to be enough…

“Professor Dumbledore iz a great wizard,” Fleur said, explaining for Jason and Grace’s benefit. “Perhaps the most powerful wizard in ze world, and certainly the most influential. He is Headmaster of Hogwarts, an old school zat teaches our craft to young witches and wizards. ‘Arry iz a student there.”

I couldn’t help a short, humourless laugh. I hadn’t been a student in a long, long time. Lifetimes, of course. “That I am,” I agreed for the sake of it. “I told Dumbledore of Atlantis, Tonks, in the letter I sent him. I told him Voldemort was here, that he had found a way through the veil – just as we did – and that I couldn’t let him have the power and the city uncontested.”

Tonks had a think about that. “He thinks you’re a match for He-Who—for Voldemort?”

This time my smile was genuine, almost enough to make me forget the various flares of pain surging through me. “He thinks too much of me, but in this regard, at least, I am the Chosen One.” I grimaced at the title. “To him, the risk is worth it, Tonks… but there are things he can’t abandon back home. A quest of his own for pieces of Voldemort’s soul. I’ll do my part here and Dumbledore will do his part, too.”

“Still, you could die, Harry.”

I shrugged. “This is war – a war for the whole, wide world. And the bastard killed my parents; his followers killed Sirius, Cedric… how many dead can you name?” A rush of bitter, frustrated anger took me. “They tried to kill Fleur not two weeks ago, they will kill so many more if they’re not stopped.”

Worlds more – and all the vacant dreams within.

“Albus Dumbledore knows that better than most – he’s lived through two world wars, fought and defeated more than a few Dark Lords and would-be Dark Lords.” I had nothing, nothing, but respect for the old man. An old man coming to the end of his long, painful life. Less than a year to go. “He’s seen civilisation come crashing down before, he’s seen our little island fight back a war machine that killed over forty million under Hitler and Grindelwald.”

“Grindelwald?” Grace asked.

“So you wonder why Dumbledore would risk my life against Voldemort, Tonks? Why he would let a fifteen-nearly-sixteen year old schoolboy hurl himself headfirst into a maelstrom of war to seize a lost power and defy a near-immortal mass-murderer?” I had wondered that myself a long time ago.

I had long since found my answer, as had Dumbledore sixty years past. “Because he knows, he knows, that the only response we can show Voldemort is to crush him and all that he stands for. All the prejudice, all the hate, all the thirst for power – Dumbledore would throw a schoolboy against that every damn time.”

“You make him sound awful,” Grace said, hugging her stomach against the world.

I thought of all I knew of Dumbledore. All he had sacrificed over his life. The tragedy of his family, the loss of his sister, Ariana, and his own battles against the desire for power. Even his feelings for Gellert Grindelwald and how that turned out. He was the greatest man I would ever know, but goddamn this world for breaking him, breaking us both, goddamn it straight to the hell I was trying to save it from.

I shook my head. Dumbledore awful? “Perhaps, Grace, but I love him for it.”

*~*~*~*

It’s not my time… but it soon will be.

*~*~*~*

From a distance of ten miles the city had looked mostly whole save for a few patches of ruin and rubble. As we walked the streets of Atlantis itself, the calamity and chaos that had claimed this fabled utopia became all too clear. The Found City was a ruin in and of itself, beyond all redemption.

Heh – much like my good self.

There was not a building unmarked, burnt or gouged by impossible powers lost so long ago. Dust lay inches thick along the roads and walkways. Rubble and chunks of weather-worn stone lay within the dust, silent and accusing, covered in a thin layer of struggling, brown moss. Decaying husks of various metallic machines lay rotting wherever they had fallen. Shells of what could’ve been something akin to cars littered the roads.

There were no bones.

The bones were the dust we waded through. The lost lives of millions in one, terrible night.

Yet the lights still worked, for the most part, and even in ruin the city was a wonder.

“My god,” Jason Arnair exclaimed once again. “Look at this, the architecture and the sound engineering. Ten-thousand years ago and they were way ahead of… of us.”

“Humbling, isn’t it?” I said, keeping my eyes peeled for any unpleasant surprises. Atlantis was a ghost town, after all, and there were always things hiding in the dark of the better-left-forgotten.

“Yes, yes it is, Mr. Potter.” The young scholar knelt down to pick up a scrap of rusted metal out of the dust. “What is this? I don’t recognise the colour…”

I glanced at the piece and tapped on the side of the broken building closest to us. The sky was dim twilight overhead now, about as dark as it got here, and there were no stars. “It’s a piece of iridium, Jason. The Atlanteans used it to reinforce the city. Cooked right into the stone and mixed with other elements to withstand even the strongest attack.”

“Iridium,” the man whispered. “No, it can’t be. I mean sure, iridium is strong – high-melting point, very hard and silvery-white. The second densest element on Earth, actually, after osmium. You say it’s mixed with something else? How could that be?” Jason paused and fell out of the encyclopaedia in his head. “With… magic?”

I nodded. “It’s mixed with an element no longer found back home.” There was an abundance of it here, however. “Mythril.”

“You’re kidding,” Grace said, with a hint of bitter sarcasm. She wasn’t taking any of this well. “I thought that could only be found in the Mines of Moria.”

I grinned. “And there’s your pop-culture reference, folks. No, Grace, ‘all that is gold does not glitter’, this is the real thing.”

“If eet was so strong,” Fleur said. “Then what tore down ‘alf of these buildings?”

I had to chuckle into the dead air. “You know what,” I said. “Chronos… somehow… unleashed one at your home just last week. The Shambling Bone-Men, Fleur.” Dumbledore and I had fought one beneath Rome in the Magnus Fontis. “Demons, true demons, of the Old World.”

“Merlin,” Tonks breathed. “They’re not still around here, are they?”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “We’re here to stop Voldemort unleashing them upon the world – unleashing them by the millions.” I watched the world burn more than once to these creatures. As always, the memories hurt. “Now let’s keep moving. There’ll be plenty of things to study once we get where we’re going, Jason.”

The Muggle professor placed the piece of mythril-iridium carefully into the cargo bag he wore over his shoulder. “I don’t doubt it.”

“How do you know where we’re going, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked.

Because I’ve been here before. “A hunch,” I said, tapping my scar with the remains of my left hand. “Voldemort’s been here for weeks. I’ve… I’ve seen a few things through our oh-so-special link.”

Fleur held my eyes for a moment and then sighed. “Very well.”

She didn’t believe me. Was I that obvious? Or did I just not care about appearances anymore? This being my last chance, and all, perhaps a part of me… a small, stupid part… wanted everyone to know the relentless sacrifices I had made to save the world. To save the whole damn world.

I guess I was as selfish as the next man.

We moved on through the empty, dusty streets, under the glow of ancient lights and with the weight of a dead city closing in all around us. Soon enough towers of near-inconceivable height towered over us, eclipsing the faded sky in false shadow and adding an air of eerie chaos to the whole mix of things.

It was getting a little cold.

“What time is it?” Grace asked, staring up at the sky. “There are no stars…”

I checked that clock in my head, the one that kept perfect count of the seconds… and found nothing. I had to glance at my watch, as scratched and scuffed as it was, to remember the time. Or rather the way time worked here.

I watched the second hand slowly ticking backwards, as the minute hand turned a minute on every second. It wasn’t broken, I knew, it was just adjusting.

“There’s no real way to measure time here,” I said. “We’re too close to the Infernal Clock.”

“The what?”

“The last Key to the Past…” And of that I would say no more, Fleur already suspected too much, but it had a rather large part to play before all was said and done here in Atlantis.

The city was over seven miles wide right through its heart, yet I still gave the High Tower in the centre a lot of breathing room, less the Dark Lord sense my presence. He had never found me before I wanted to be found, but things were different this time. For all I knew he and Chronos could be up there right now, laughing it up together and plotting my downfall…

I was paranoid, of course I was, but the reality was that they were out to get me. It wasn’t all in my head.

I was beginning to tire, to really feel the day, when we were still four miles out from where I wanted to be. Dizzy spells kept me concentrating really hard on one foot in front of the other. My head and my hand were killing me. It was really cold now, as well, and everyone had fallen silent. Tonks cast a few heating charms but even that didn’t take the bite out of the wind.

“Do you want to rest up, Harry?” Tonks asked. “You look dead on your feet and I could do with something to eat. It’s been a long day.”

I glanced at the buildings around us. Most were a torn ruin, yet a few looked stable enough to rest in. Just across the street there was a conical complex that still had glass in the windows. Small wonders over ten-thousand years. It was foolish to rest here, but it did seem like a very good idea. I could raise certain protections that would see us through the night.

“Okay, we can spend the… night… in there, I guess.” And I suppose I could fix up my hand as best I could. “And I could really go a beer.”

“We did not bring beer, ‘Arry.”

“Yes we did.” I grinned. “I snuck in a six-pack when you weren’t looking.”

The glass in the window held as I forced open the heavy door, pushing against the weight of dust and debris. Inside the air was stale, the whole room dim and dreary. Faint blue lights on the walls offered little in the way of warmth and light. I levitated the trunks in one by one, stacking them against the far wall on the petrified remains of what could’ve been a dining table.

“Head into the next room,” I said. “And make as little noise as possible, guys. We don’t want to attract the attention of… anything.”

“Anything?” Tonks asked. Her wand had been out since the cavern back in Italy.

“It’s been ten-thousand years since this city died in so much fire, blood and pain… a lot of resentment has festered over that time.”

“Resentment from what?”

Another bark of short, humourless laughter. “The better-left-forgotten.”

*~*~*~*

I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Story of my life, dontcha know. But I was the right man for the job.

*~*~*~*

One of the trunks we had rigged with a freezing charm held enough meat to last about three months, another cooled crate contained fruit and vegetables under preservation charms, as well as bread and butter. However, no one was in the mood to cook up a storm, so we broke into our supply of tinned food and cooked soup over a magical flame right in the can.

We had enough canned soup to last for the rest of our lives. Two of the magically expanded trunks were filled with nothing but soup. There was nothing to eat here in Atlantis, nothing but dust and ash.

The soup was good. It was better than good. I had two cans of chunky chicken and potato and let the warmth flow through me, replenishing some of my diminished energy. It had been a long day, I was exhausted. After battling goblins, Aurors, Orc-Mare, losing half a hand and bridging a gap between worlds, I was about ready to call it a day.

As for my half a hand, there was also the emergency medical supply trunk. It was stocked with potions, poultices, vials of pain-numbing potions, pepper-up potions, and everything in between that could give a quick fix to a bad day. Fleur had purchased most of this stuff in Rome the other day, at the Via Magicka – Italy’s answer to Diagon Alley – with the galleons I had tricked out of Miguel Blue.

I did the mending myself, applied the poultices that sealed over the finger stumps as if they’d had months to heal, and took a few bone-mending concoctions that tasted awful but knitted the bones back together. When I was done, my hand was as whole as it could be given the lack of a few fingers – and it no longer hurt.

“You know with a bit of Skele-Gro and a few weeks in St. Mungo’s, you might be able to get those fingers back, Harry.” Tonks was cautiously optimistic.

I nodded. “Yeah maybe…” For now my hand was functional. I could grip things, even make a fist. I didn’t worry over the loss of two fingers and a bunch of scar tissue.

We sat in the back room of what had probably been an Atlantean dwelling. The lights did not work in here, but there was seating, armchairs, that a bit of transfiguration fixed up just nicely. Fleur had even cast a few heating charms to keep us warm. We were alone, for the most part, in a dead city that existed in a limbo-state between this world and the next, but there was soup, and a soft-glowing orb of pale white light.

“We sleep in shifts tonight,” I said, thinking of the mounting risk of being as exposed as we were. I needed to get to the Shipyards, to the old vessels there that I knew how to fortify. Perhaps we wouldn’t spend the whole night here. It was dark outside – as dark as it got – a mix of failed twilight and a dusky, starless sky. “Two of us awake at all times. I’ll stay up first with Jason. Ladies, decide amongst yourselves who’s waking up in three hours.”

“What are you on watch for, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked.

I only shrugged. “For whatever…”

*~*~*~*

This whole war runs red with shame…

*~*~*~*

Sometime after midnight, if such a time of half-light could be called midnight, I was shaken awake by Fleur, who looked pale in the faint glow of our magic-sphere.

“Zere is something out there, ‘Arry…” Her voice was a hurried whisper, her accent slipping through hard. “I ‘ave heard it twice now.”

I was up in an instant, feeling little better for an hour’s nap. With Fleur was Grace, who sat with her arms around her knees next to Jason, gazing out through the doorway into the front room. “It sounded like a scream out in the street,” the young research assistant said. “Like a… roar.”

“Probably just a lion,” I quipped.

I thought about waking Tonks and Jason, both of them frowning in their sleep in armchairs of their own, but decided against it for now. I cocked an ear and listened hard at the night, but didn’t hear a thing.

“It’s an empty city,” I said. “Sound can travel pretty far—”

AIIEEEE!

“Or it could be just around the corner. Damn.” I took a deep breath. “That’s a frask.”

“And a frask iz… what?” Fleur held her wand at the ready.

“Trouble, and in our road, sweetheart.” With a flick of my wand I doused the light and the heating charms, extinguished all the magic. We stood quiet in a room of the false-light now. “Wake Tonks and Jason – quietly – and don’t use any magic.”

Another scream cut through the night, joined by another away through the wall on our left. There was more than one of them. Of course there was, my ravaged memories told me, frasks hunt in packs.

“’Arry, what iz a frask?”

“Nightmares attracted by magic,” I whispered, peering out through the doorway and glimpsing the dusty street beyond. Nothing I could see lurked in the shadows. But then I suppose I wouldn’t see it. “Hard to kill – they just absorb magic, any magic. It’s like trying to put a fire out with kerosene… can’t be done.”

“What’s that?” Tonks asked, stifling a yawn. She got up to stand at my left, Fleur on my right.

“We’re being hunted,” I said, as if over drinks. “Don’t use any magic and keep… quiet.”

Ten minutes fled in tense silence, my ears straining to hear the sound of scraping claws in the dust, the heavy breathing in hungry throats, or that sickly scream alive in the night. There was nothing. I was beginning to hope that we’d dodged a bullet. My luck was never that good, though, but at least I knew it. I remained vigilant.

“Okay…” I let out a long breath a few minutes later. “We have to move now. Those things will circle until they find us.”

“And they want… magic?” Fleur asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, they feed on it – or, more accurately, they feed on anything touched by magic. That counts for everyone in this room, even Jason and Grace.”

Jason had a thought. “Can’t you just… I dunno… if magic won’t work, crush them under something using your magic.”

I shrugged. “It’s a good idea, mate, in theory, but that something would have to be made of mythril.”

“Why?”

“It’s half the reason most of the city is built with that mythril-iridium cocktail, to keep these creatures from tearing through the walls. Atlantis was destroyed overnight, but the war for the city was fought over many years all that time ago. Many things… many terrible things, weapons and monsters, were created by both sides.” It would’ve been very cool to live back then. “And before you ask, no, it’s not possible to pull down the buildings around us on top of the frasks. As I said earlier, it would take considerable demonic effort to break down these walls.”

“So we just run?” Tonks asked.

I nodded. “We’re heading to the Shipyards. What remains of the Atlantean fleet is docked there. It’s about a distance of three or four miles… due west.” We could make that, sure we could. “I can activate certain protections there that’ll keep out the worst of the leftovers roaming these streets. It’s our best chance. Let’s get going.”

“What about—”

“Leave the trunks, Tonks, we’ll come back for them later when we’re better equipped.”

Both Grace and Jason picked up their research bags before we left, but apart from that we took nothing.

The streets were as empty as they had been for the best part of ten-thousand years when we left our supplies behind and ducked out into the shadows and the dust. There were furrows cut through the layers of ash, bounding claw marks from at least three distinct sets of razor-sharp claws.

“We proceed very, very quietly,” I said to the group, and then took the lead.

Whereas before the streets had been simply quiet and old, worn down and broken, there was an air of menace now. It was something I had felt from the start, but was only just being realised by my companions. I kept Fleur next to Jason and Grace, and Tonks on the other side. A tight-knit group should we be attacked.

They’ll go for me first anyway, I thought, straining hard to recall all I knew of frasks. Ugly buggers with a lot of teeth, but I’m the greatest source of magic around here…

So we fled through the night past marvels of magic and technology, hugging the sides of the buildings and heading west down a gently curving landscape of ash and broken promise. It had been a long time since this city had existed in the real world, whole and alive, but magic had sustained it as much as possible. Atlantis did look barren, lifeless, but only maybe for a decade. Not ten millennia.

We turned a corner and found ourselves at the top of a rather large hill. It gave a commanding view down through the city, a clear view of the coast and the harbour, glittering in the dull twilight. As I’d said before, the coast was devoid of an ocean – just a rocky seabed of gnarled coral and broken reef, disappearing over a blurred horizon.

“We can follow this road straight down,” I said. “See that big domed building with the ring of flashing lights…?” I pointed to the harbour. “That’s our home away from home, ladies and gentle—”

The frask emerged from the shadows away to our left and tackled me hard, knocking me to the ground and rolling on top of me, yellow-teeth bared and thin, red slits glaring bloody-murder. It screeched triumph in my face.

“HARRY!”

It was roughly human in shape, although unnaturally thin and skeletal. Grey skin, pasty and lifeless, seemed stretched over an elongated frame. In place of eyes there were two crescent slits like bleeding sores, and it was entirely hairless. As well as the teeth, the frask had three talons on either hand, as sharp as razors and as black as night.

I kept rolling, instinct kicking in faster than thought, and used its weight against it, bringing my legs up and booting the damn thing in the stomach. It leapt back, stung but uninjured, and swiped at my face as I rolled away. Its claw caught me on the forearm, cutting open my suit and drawing a thin line of hot crimson blood.

“Malia Lestic!”

A blast of silver curse light struck the frask in its chest just before it dived for me again. Tonks stood close by, her wand levelled against the beast and all her Auror training coming to the forefront in her stance. That curse was designed to bludgeon through shield charms and send the unfortunate recipient hurtling back with enough force to shatter bone.

The frask absorbed the spell like a sponge soaking up water. Its skin bled silver light as the spell dissipated against its form, and the creature screeched raw delight at being fed. It turned from me to the source of the spell, the closest, freshest magic, and roared at Tonks, spittle and sparks of her power flying from its mouth.

Before I could move, before I could even sit up, the creature leapt into Tonks, its jaws snapping and biting at her face.

“NO!”

Fleur screamed, Jason swore, Grace pulled something from the bag she was carrying around her neck and, with a surprising calm in her eyes, drove it deep into the hide of the frask as it went for Tonks’ throat. The creature’s whole body jittered with hard spasms as the piece of mythril-iridium Jason had collected earlier was driven through its back and out through its chest.

The frask hit Tonks as dead weight, a spike of hardened elemental mythril sticking out of its chest. It still knocked her to the ground, but it was thrashing now in its death throes, and she quickly squirmed from under it, a think brown syrupy substance covering the front of her robes – frask blood.

Grace covered her mouth with her hand and backed away from the dying creature, her eyes wide and somewhat amazed at what she had done. She looked at me, afraid, and I looked back at her in a new light. Perhaps it had been a good idea to bring her along after all.

“That was pretty hot.” I grinned. “Two points for quick thinking, two points for style, and two points for hitting a moving target.”

At that moment, screeches tore the restored silence of the street apart. In the distance, on either side, howls and roars of an inhuman variety sent my blood running cold.

“Run,” I said. The hunt was on. “Run. Now. Don’t stop, don’t look back.”

We ran.

We ran fast and we ran hard.

Down the hill and toward the salvation I’d promised at the Shipyards within the dry harbour.

It’s a funny old life, I thought, stomping ash beneath my shoes and breathing hard. Always running either towards or away from danger. And I hadn’t even faced Voldemort yet this time around.

We were down the hill and a mile into our run when the chase began in earnest. I looked back, against my own advice, and glimpsed at least half a dozen murky-grey shapes bolting down the rise after us on thin, impossible legs. They leapt fifteen-feet in a single bound. The screeches that chased us down the hill were raw with anger, no doubt over the loss of one of their own…

“Keep going,” I breathed. “Must go faster now.”

I brandished my wand and lit a few magical fires as we ran. Tasty snacks that would slow the frasks down, but make them all the stronger for feeding. We needed time – only minutes – to cover the distance across the harbour to the Shipyards.

We got them, thanks in part to my fires. The outlandish architecture and hazy-blue neon lights whirled by and we came to an open space. Ship docks with dilapidated piers stretching out over an ocean that was no longer there. There was the smell of salt on the air, a tired marine water aroma of the long ago. And, yes, of the better-left-forgotten.

I led my companions at a jog now, all of us gasping in air, past cranes and rusted work equipment. There were bollards and containers, as well as strange vehicles littering the docks. A lot less ash had settled on this part of the city, but our hurried footsteps still kicked up clouds of the stuff, marking our trail out brilliantly for any pursuers.

“Follow me,” I said as we came to the large domed structure I’d pointed out on the top of the hill. Without maintaining any pretence of this being all new to me, I ran up a set of concrete steps and slammed my fist against a control panel next to a set of large barred doors. The panel spluttered to life and the doors retracted on screeching rollers about halfway. “Inside. Now.”

I waited for the others to enter before I did, and glanced back across the docks just as the pack of frasks entered the harbour hot on our heels.

“Merlin, Harry,” Tonks said as I ducked under the door and joined them inside, “just what is this place?”

I set off at a run toward the heart of the complex, down a flight of metallic stairs and across a walkway that was covered in frayed cabling and boxes of components that looked like they belonged to the Muggle world. Small spheres of light appeared beneath my feet as I ran, lighting the way.

The space we had entered was huge. Massive. “It’s bigger on the inside,” I said. “Like the trunks, you know, relativistic-spacial magic. This is one of the command hubs for the Atlantean military. They built their warships in here, brought them in for repairs. It’s part dry dock, part landing platform. Look over there.”

Lights had been coming on steadily across the entire space since we entered, responding to our presence. A lot of them were dead or cut-off from the main power source running beneath the city, but there was enough light to see by… and what it revealed was astonishing.

There were about two dozen large docks, each containing a berth at least one hundred feet across and wide. Along the far wall were massive shipping doors that opened out onto the empty sea, a sheer drop to the dusty ocean floor below could be glimpsed amidst the twilit heavens. However, it was what was in the berths that demanded attention.

In about six of the docking berths rested large, cream-white galleons. Multi-decked sailing ships that looked like they’d fallen straight out of the seventeenth century. Although not quite. There were differences. These ships, complete with wooden masts and large, furled sails, were more streamlined.

“Head for the far right,” I said. “That one with the white finish and gold trim.”

It was an Atlantean Eternity Class Destroyer. Inoperable, dead for ten-thousand years, but with a bit of tweaking… it had five massive masts, heavy sails and a long beak, with a square cabin at the stern.

I knew there to be weapons on board. Weapons we could use against—

AIIEEE!

The frasks slammed through the side door behind us, twisting the metal frame and tearing it from the runners. Quick as lightning they were after us, bounding down the lit metallic walkway and screaming for our heads.

We took a right off the main causeway and all at once the warship reared up before us. It wasn’t as high as it should be, as the water had receded beneath it and left it sitting on old concrete. It listed to the left, towards us, but only at a slight angle.

“Climb up the rigging there,” I said. “Make ready to set sail! Ha!”

Jason and Grace were up first, climbing atop the walkway and stepping up onto the listing vessel. Fleur and Tonks went next, just as the frasks drew level with us…

“Incendios-grata!”

My trusty old supercharged fire spell. I ignited the path with magical fire – with frask-food – and the monsters chasing us dove headfirst into the flame, absorbing the magical element, relishing in the heat and growing stronger…

I stepped up off the walkway as it buckled and melted under the heat, and jumped back onto the main deck of the ship – alive and a little singed.

“Keep moving – this way!”

The deck was strewn with rope and cables, as well as technologically-advanced cannons mixed in amongst the masts and sails. The whole warship was a blur of ancient magical power and seventeenth century maritime design. Enough to make one’s head spin.

Fleur and Tonks, Jason and Grace, followed me down to the stern of the vessel, stepping over the abandoned cabling and repair tools the Atlanteans had abandoned in a hurry, past a row of chests bolted to the deck, and through a door that hung half-open, caked with dust.

Once everyone was inside I slammed the door behind us, sealing it with a sticking charm and igniting my wand with a sphere of pure white light. Outside, we heard the frasks leaping up onto the deck after us, claws tap-tap-tapping against the wooden decking.

“Take a minute to catch your breath, folks,” I said. “We’ve got that much time…”

“This room is a dead-end, Harry,” Tonks said, looking around. “Just a bunch of dusty cabinets—”

I flicked my wand and the cabinets creaked open, the hinges holding well after all this time. Inside was an array of different weaponry – swords and knives, battleaxes and shields. All of them shone like dull silver, tempered with fierce steel. The strange, glittery glow emanating from the blades was distinctly familiar.

“Yep, those are mythril weapons. Designed for work such as what awaits me out on the deck.” Something slammed into the door – hard – bringing a curtain of dust swirling down onto our heads. “Wait a goddamn minute!”

“What are you suggesting?” Jason asked. “That we fight those things with these weapons? Harry, are you insane?”

“Quite insane,” Fleur said, but there was a smile playing about her lips. “The right kind of insane, non?”

I winked. “This is war, Jason. Get used to it, because there’s no way out. Not ever.” Didn’t I know the truth of that.

“Madness—”

Another frask hurled itself against the flimsy wooden door. A large splinter cracked right through the paintwork,

“Cheer up, buddy. You’ve wanted Atlantis your whole life – now’s the time to fight for it.” I gazed at the glittering weapons and settled on one in particular. That one would be mine. “Watch me… and do as I do.”

*~*~*~*

To fade into insignificance… to prevail within chaos… what do I fight for? What is more priceless than my very soul?

*~*~*~*

I leapt from the cabin, jumped up onto the chests and hurled myself through the air, screaming at the top of my lungs and bringing the mythril axe swinging down around over my head.

The snarling frask didn’t stand a fucking chance.

I cleaved it in two, my weapon still sharp despite the long millennia it had sat idle. Blood, brown and as thick as syrup, spurted up and splashed my suit, my face. Vital organs spilled onto the decking of the old warship and my battleaxe thunked into the planks beneath me.

I wrenched it free just as the next frask leapt at me, teeth bared and claws tearing for my throat. I ducked and brought the axe swinging up from underneath, hacking into the exposed stomach of the monster. Another shower of blood and guts and all things nice sent me into a fury that had, honest and true, ended the world.

“COME ON, YOU FUCKERS!”

Mere seconds had passed since I emerged from the cabin. I was Harry Potter. Wizard extraordinaire. Fuck with me at your own risk…

The frasks attacked on mass, screaming for my blood. In my fury I was untouchable, unable to feel pain or hurt…

Each swing of my axe brought a satisfying burst of pallid grey flesh and golden-brown syrup spraying up in vicious fountains. I swam in it, I bathed in the chaos, and the deck of the Atlantean galleon ran slick with the blood of my enemies.

Mindless in their assault, much akin to my good self, the frasks threw themselves at me, dived into my path of carnage. Claws tore at my clothes, cutting through the cloth like butter and pierced my skin, drawing long lines of blood down my arms, across my chest… one smacked me in the face, dislodging my glasses and cutting open my cheek.

I laughed. “Bastard!” And took it in the neck, turning the flat of my axe just as the blade cleared its throat and smacked its head across the deck in a spray if vital fluid. It bounced off the mast and nearly went into the netting before the sails. Damn. Almost a goal.

There was only one frask left standing, snarling, amidst the ruin of its kind.

“And Potter lines up for another shot.” I screamed and grit my teeth, snarling in return. I swung hard and… the axe flew from my hands. “Swing and a miss! Fuck!”

My hands, and the axe handle, were slick with my blood-with monster blood- sweat, tears and all that’s in between… the weapon slipped from my grip and I fell to my knees, gasping for breath and ducking glistening talons by a scant inch. The frask fell on top of me, sensing its advantage, and I was spent. I didn’t even have my wand, much good it would’ve done me anyway.

Thin and skeletal it may have been, but the frask was heavy, it’s breath rank with ten-thousand year old death. It screeched loud enough to shatter glass and reared back, opening its jaws wide to tear out my throat.

But then Fleur was there – all of my few, desperate allies were – carrying mythril weapons from the ship’s armoury. Fleur held a slim rapier, and the fury in her eyes was a match for my own, as she lopped the head from the frask’s neck without a moment of hesitation.

Did I mention that I loved Fleur?

Jason helped me to my feet. My suit jacked was in tatters and I shrugged out of it. My shirt was no better, but it held, even as my blood seeped into the fabric from the dozen or so slashes the frasks had inflicted. We stood amongst the sick remains of the nightmare creatures. A horrible stink rose from the bodies.

“And how many points for zat, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked, breathing hard, and yet still a picture of poised elegance and eternal grace.

“Two points for perfect timing, two points for making it look easy… and two points for not getting a drop of blood on you.” I thought back. “That puts you tied with Grace for Atlantis’ Coolest Kill award.”

I was calming down now. The whole chopping episode fading away… My entire body felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a mountain troll.

“Come on, Harry, I need to clean you up again. Some of those cuts look nasty.”

“What would I do without you, Tonks…?” There was serious weight behind that question. Worlds of weight.

“You’d have bled to death days ago,” she quipped, and that was probably the truth.

I limped over to one of the bolted down chests and sat down. I’d done a lot of bleeding over this long day, a lot of warring and screaming. I was about ready to collapse – beyond ready to collapse.

“You’re a crazy bastard, Harry. You know that?”

“Yeah… but I get results, Jason.” It hurt to chuckle. “Damn. Let’s go find somewhere I can bleed in peace and quiet for a few hours. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, eh?”

I was hoping it would involve beer and cigars.

*~*~*~*

A/N: No promises on the next chapter, but then I didn’t expect to get this one done for another month or so, so you might get lucky. What d’you think? First glimpse at Atlantis, and it’s not a friendly place. More will be explained next chapter, more will come into focus… just what is Harry’s plan from here on out? It seems to have something to do with the Shipyards…

Whatever he’s up to, it’s clear his insanity is slipping into the danger zone. The more insane he gets the more beer I have to drink to write that insanity, so it’s kind of a win for me either way. Still, could be trouble for Harry and company in future chappies.

Thanks for reading – please review. We’re at 1100 now, heading on the up and up… yeehaw, yeehaw.

-Joe