The room was dark and cold, completely devoid of any furniture or home comforts and lit only by the full moon as it rose steadily on it's journey through the night sky, casting an eerie silver glow on the man within. The hooded figure hated this room and this house, not for the lack of anything comfortable or reminiscent of the comforts of home but for what it represented and the memories it held, but he did not seem to mind the darkness, somehow comforted by its silence and serenity. He was moving slowly and carefully as he took out a slim piece of wood from his cloak and pointed it towards a large, old fashioned caldron which sat in front of him. It was then that, impossibly, the caldron started to rise from the ground, hovering a foot off the floor before it started to move, guided by the wand, before settling itself on a stand by the large window which occupied most of the far wall. It was because of this window that the room had been chosen for the ritual, it allowed the moonlight to shine through it right until the optimum moment as Luna reached her zenith amongst the stars and when she would shine through the large gem which hung, without rope or support, high in the air, sitting just below the room's high ceiling.

With the cauldron in place, the figure redirected his wand to just below the stand and two small flames flew from the wood, landing below the cauldron where they stayed, not spreading or growing or extinguishing, but remaining still, as if held by some unseen force, as they warmed the black, granite cauldron. Now that everything was in place it was time for the ritual itself to begin. The hooded man raised his hand into the air and did not flinch as a small vial magically appeared, seemingly from thin air, and into his hand. Stepping forward to the cauldron, the man's face was illuminated by the small flames and any onlookers would have been shocked by what they saw.

The man was in fact only sixteen years old but there was no sign of youth in his brilliant, emerald green eyes, they sat emotionless in his face, which was a picture of seriousness and concentration. There was a scar, almost as old as the man himself, on his forehead in the shape of a lightening bolt and this was joined by newer, fresher scars and bruises, a reminder to him of the battle which had almost cost him his life. His eyes, which had once shone brilliantly, now seemed murky in the low light, the life extinguished from them by the horror they had seen.

Uncorking the lid of the vial, Harry Potter poured the blood of Bellatrix Lestrange into the cauldron. While doing so, he fought hard, but unsuccessfully with his own brain, trying to force the woman out of his mind. But there she stubbornly remained, the look of shock and fear now permanently on her features as it had been when Harry had taken her life from her in little more than cold blood. Forcing himself to concentrate, Harry murmured an unintelligible incantation as the blood poured from the vial. It did not, as he and most would have anticipated come to rest on the floor of the cauldron, but swirled around the air inside of it. It was, Harry thought, eerily beautiful in the moonlight, like red wisps of hair in the wind and, unable to help himself, as he stirred the cauldron his mind began to wander.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Pain and fatigue were the essence of Harry's body as he lay in the damp grass, his arms grasped tightly around the large gem of clinohumite which held within it the balance of life and death, not only for him but for both the muggle and wizarding worlds. These feelings seemed to melt, however, as he heard a voice calling his name and he opened his eyes to the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on. The wind blew through Ginny Weasley's hair and she was looking slightly the worse for wear, her clothes dirty and torn and her face dotted with small scratches, some of which were still bleeding. But her eyes, were the only thing Harry was focusing on and they were full of nothing but love and concern. Neither of them said anything in that moment, but Harry would remember it forever as he stared into her eyes, brilliant emerald green into deep, beautiful brown and Ginny took his hand.

"Harry are you alright?" She asked after what seemed like a lifetime, but still too soon.

"I'm absolutely perfect." He replied and tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, only to cry out and collapse back onto the floor as his back painfully protested against the strain. Ginny put a hand on his chest, not hard, but with enough force to stop him from trying that again.

"Just lay back Harry." She said, lying down by his side and placing her arm around him. "It's over. We're safe here."

Various thoughts flitted briefly through Harry's mind. Whether Voldemort or his death eaters would come back. Dumbledore and the sacrifice he had made and whether or not the order had found him. His soldiers and how many he had led to their deaths. But then Ginny rested her head on his chest and his heart told him that she was right. They were safe here together. And with that final, comforting thought, Harry closed his eyes and let the blissful darkness reclaim him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry stirred the potion for the fourteenth time and smiled grimly as the potion let out an ominous hiss. He then gave a wave of his hand, conjuring a wooden table where he could slice the heartstring he had taken from the dragon he had found slain in the battle. Taking out a knife, he started to carefully and evenly slice the string in to seven pieces, working by the moonlight and the light of the embers burning under the cauldron, this ritual could leave him injured and in a very vulnerable position, he couldn't afford to advertise his location.

With that job done, he placed the pieces, one by one, into the cauldron and again began to stir; first three and a half times clockwise and then three and a half times anti-clockwise, whispering, again, the incantation he had memorised days ago. The hissing immediately stopped and the blood flowing around the cauldron fell to the floor and, reacting with the dragon heartstring, bubbled and expanded in volume, so that the potion now half filled the cauldron. Harry's mask of calmness and stiff upper lip slipped slightly as he looked down into the cauldron of blood and organs and anyone watching would swear that they saw immense pain and loss in the young wizard's eyes, but then it would be impossible to tell, he had his armour back on too quickly.

Harry then waved his hand once more, summoning to him the seven Valerian roots he had stolen from the potions store cupboard the previous day and then, placing them onto the small table he had conjured for himself, he picked up his knife and began to carefully slice them. As the knife pierced and tore through the grey, skin like roots, Harry was forcibly reminded of the vampire he had been forced to take a knife to, along with the countless others he had slain in battle and he turned away, pausing for a second to recompose himself before turning back to the vital job at hand. 'Was there another way?' He thought. 'Could any of them have been spared and imprisoned in a safe location? Would he have wanted to spare them?' This last though chilled Harry to the bone, they were, after all living, breathing, feeling people whom he had robbed of life, did he have any right to take it from them?

As he carried out the monotonous task of carefully and evenly slicing the seven roots into forty nine pieces, Harry felt his mind take him back again, this time to the Great hall of Hogwarts at the end of term.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Minerva McGonagall rose from her seat to the right of the middle, high back chair, which sat empty. She just didn't feel right sitting in Albus' chair and so it remained empty throughout the week and a half left of term after the battle and it remained empty now, a constant reminder of what they had lost and what she had to tell the students of now.

Silence filled the Great hall as she stood, though the atmosphere had already been strangely subdued and restrained, for all except the Slytherins whom she turned to glare at now and whom quickly quietened at the stiff stare of their deputy headmistress.

"As you know," She began, uncomfortable with what she had to tell them and trying desperately to remain calm and not break down, "a little over a week ago a great battle was fought in the war that surrounds us and it is my unfortunate duty to tell you that not ev-everyone came out alive."

McGonagall started to stumble over her words and tears started to form in her eyes as she choked back sobs. Seeing that she would not get through this and somewhat more used to war and death from his job as an Auror, Thane stood and walked over to her whispering that she should sit down and that he would continue.

"I have with me a list of those who fought bravely and died honourably in the midst of battle and in the defence of what they believed was right and I shall read it out to you now." Thane started his speech. " Of the DA; Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Zacharias Smith and Michael Corner. Of the Aurors; Peter Speight, Daniel Fletcher, Richard Winter, Ramond Abbatelli, Jane Ravenna, Tracy Olivier, Helah Leiffson, Mattan Arkema, Pontius Loncar, Damien Pelley, Georgine Thwaite, Astra Hambleton and Kleitos Rattray. Of the Order of the Phoenix; Sturgis Podmore, Elphias Doge, Jebediah Hutton, Emmeline Vance, Ceres James, Janus Lamberti, Dedalus Diggle, Kleio Langlois, Shri Kaur, Zephyr Spiros, And Rubeus Hagrid."

Harry, once more, felt an incredible sense of loss as Hagrid's name was called out. Each of the names represented lives and families that had been torn apart on the battlefield under his command and he felt guilt, loss and incredible sadness for those whom he led to their deaths. But Hagrid, Hagrid had been his first friend, nothing but kind to him right to the end when he died trying to save him. Hagrid would always have a big place in Harry's heart and he felt a cloak of grief wrap around him at the thought that he would never see him again and, looking up, he saw the way he felt reflected throughout the hall on the tear stained and grief riddled faces of his friends and classmates.

Having paused to let his students, colleagues and indeed himself, have their moment of grief, Thane continued.

"Though they have passed from this mortal realm, the names and memories of the fallen brave will last eternal in the hearts and minds of those they died to save and I would like to propose a toast to our fallen comrades."

He lifted his goblet and his action was copied by students around the hall as they echoed back at him 'Our fallen comrades'. As Harry looked up, after the toast, he saw Thane staring straight into his eyes and, as he began to speak once more, he knew that he was speaking to him.

"I will leave you with these words. Though our friends and workmates have fallen at the hands of the dark side, those who work only for selfish gain shall never be victoriousin. Because, though they can spill our blood, though they can rip our souls from our bodies and our lives from this realm, as long as but one person remains to stand up to them, they will not sleep easy at night and they will not go unopposed. Those who wish to spread darkness want to divide us but I say the loss that we share will only make us stronger and though we are in for hard times, though more will fall and though we will always mourn and never forget our fallen friends, in the end will be victorious and the evil which seeks only to conquer and inflict pain will be exterminated and the light side will win in the end. Every time."

Thane sat down to thunderous applause from three out of four tables and Harry smiled slightly and nodded at his teacher and friend as he got the message he was trying to convey. He still felt the all too familiar, all encompassing sadness over the loss of some of his closest friends but he knew that he still did not have the luxury of time to mourn. The fight must go on.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The roots now evenly sliced, Harry took a small glass jar from the inside pocket of his cloak and took out the cork. Pouring in the forty nine small, brown beans he had counted out before hand, he immediately followed them with the valerian roots he had just sliced and watched by the light of the moon as the deep, blood red potion bubbled and slowly turned a murky, sludgy green.

With that done, Harry set the cauldron to simmer and looked at his watch. The unicorns blood had to be added precisely seven minutes before the full moon came to its zenith in the night sky and that, according to Hermione's calculations, would not be for another twelve minutes. And so, alone in a dark and long abandoned room in number twelve Grimmauld place with only his own thoughts for company, as he watched the moon as it ascended through the heavens and listened to the soft bubbling and hissing of the potion nearby, Harry Potter felt his mind drift away once more, this time to two days ago and the bedside of an old and powerful man.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry gazed over the still, weak body of Albus Dumbledore and felt a feeling of helplessness bubble up inside of him, growing in the pit of his stomach before it threatened to overwhelm him. It was ironic, he had spent much of the year hating his guts, but the headmaster had saved his life and looking at him now; the once great and powerful Albus Dumbledore, frail and barely alive and Harry could not help but be reminded of his own mortality and the great task that still lay ahead of him.

"Pretty scary huh?" Came a voice behind him and Harry turned to see Thane walking his way.

"I know what you mean." Harry replied, "Even when he was banished from Hogwarts, even when I hated him, Dumbledore always seemed omnipotent and constant, always there when we needed him."

Thane just nodded understandingly. "I didn't mean to disturb you mate but the Order of the Phoenix are waiting outside. Dumbledore left a message for the order in the case of his death or serious injury, he asked that you be there."

"Tell them that they can come in." Harry said and Thane nodded before turning and walking to the door, returning moments later with much of the Order of the Phoenix in tow.

Many of the order smiled at Harry as they entered and Mrs Weasley smothered him in a tight and loving hug, but not a word was exchanged as they gathered around their leader's bed. Harry watched from Mr and Mrs Weasley's side as the order filed into the room many of them, Harry noted with a twinge of sadness and guilt, hobbling or wincing in pain from injuries they had acquired on the battlefield. Remus and Thane joined him, each putting a hand on his shoulder as McGonagall set up a strange and ancient looking device, like a muggle projector but large, bronze and unwieldy, set up with the projector pointing to the ceiling.

Each of the order focused their attention on the air above the projector and, realising what was about to come, Harry just had time to steel himself for it before Dumbledore's face appeared.

"If you are listening to this I am dead or close to death and unable to fulfil my role as head of the Order of the Phoenix and so I speak to you to give my orders to ensure the continuation of the order and the fight against Voldemort and the Dark arts." The head of Dumbledore spoke, floating eerily above the projector like a hologram. "First of all, I appoint my successors, either permanent or temporary depending on the circumstances in which I am speaking to you. As ever all major decisions are to be made by the council of the phoenix, voted on democratically by our most senior men and women. The position of head of the order passes to Alastair Moody and Minerva McGonagall to share equally, as I believe that between them they have all of the best attributes of a great leader and more and I have no fears over their ability to oversee the great work I am sure the order will continue to do."

Moody and McGonagall both stood stock still as all eyes turned to them, their faces resolute and determined and Harry had to agree with Dumbledore's choice. With Moody's experience as an Auror and McGonagall's as a teacher, together they would make a formidable force. His thoughts were disturbed, however, as Dumbledore's head turned to him and began to speak once more.

"I suspect that, by now, you will be wondering why you are here Harry. Well, I wanted to say that I am sorry. I know that over the years I have, in my efforts to afford you something even slightly reminiscent of a childhood, kept things from you that weren't mine to keep and I know that your trust in me has been broken. It is testament to my cowardice that I can only say this to you here and now when I am either forever gone or in such a state that I cannot speak to you in any other way. I can only ask for your forgiveness and say that whatever you may think of me, I have never felt anything but immense pride in you for the way in which you have coped with the hand fate has dealt you. And to show you that I do indeed trust you and that I have every confidence in your abilities and your maturity, as my last act as head of the Order of the Phoenix, I hereby appoint you, not only as a member of the Order but also a member of the Council of the Phoenix, if you will accept. That is all I have to say my friends and whether it be in this world or the next, I am sure we will meet again."

With those words, Dumbledore faded, leaving behind him a room of shocked silence as everyone turned to face Harry.

"He can't-" McGonagall began but she was interrupted by Remus.

"He can Minerva and he has." The werewolf began, "As Dumbledore's last request as head of the Order, for now at least, I feel that we should honour it and I have to say that I agree with him."

"But he's just a child." McGonagall replied, looking around for support and finding little.

"I know that you're just looking out for me professor and I appreciate that, but I ask you not to make the same mistake Dumbledore did." Harry said, cutting off Thane, Remus and, interestingly, Moody, who were about to jump to his defence. "Whether you like it or not, I am a part of this war, perhaps more involved than anyone else, and I can cope with the responsibility. I have battled Voldemort more than anyone, except Dumbledore and over the last year I have trained and organised the DA into a proper fighting force which more than matched the death eaters. I know that, for the next few weeks at least, I am a minor, but I am not a child professor."

McGonagall seemed to be somewhat lost for words and Harry felt sorry for her, she had just had the responsibility of head of the Order thrust upon her and she was already being forced into something she disagreed with. He could see that the deputy headmistress cared about him and that meant a lot to him, but he was fed up with being nannied one minute and then expected to fight Voldemort the next. And so it was with a look of defeat and resignation, the witch spoke once more.

"I still do not agree with this Potter, but I trust Albus Dumbledore and I could never disobey a direct order from him. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Summoning the small vial of silver blood to him, Harry walked slowly up to the cauldron, his eyes focused on his watch as the seconds ticked by, magically set to be exact and precise to ensure the success of the ritual. As the second hand ticked on to the twelve, exactly seven minutes before the moon came to the height of its journey, Harry poured the unicorn blood into the potion and watched, satisfied, as it swirled around inside the liquid, before mixing and turning the potion a brilliant gold. The bubbling and the hissing immediately disappeared and the potion lay flat, as if just waiting to be taken.

With a wave of his hand, Harry extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron before conjuring a goblet, which he plunged into the potion, scooping up half a goblet full - the required dosage. Looking at the potion, glistening in the goblet, Harry hesitated for a second, he had had enough bad experiences with potions to be reluctant to try another, one that had never been tried before. Steeling himself, he brought the rim of the goblet to his lips and drunk heavily, swallowing it all in one go. There was a moment when nothing happened and Harry was a little disappointed, even wondering as to whether he had brewed the potion incorrectly. But then the pain hit. Harry doubled over and his face contorted as his stomach was hit by an intense burning pain, as if he had just drunk a pint of sulphuric acid or was being stabbed from the inside with burning knives. For thirty seconds, Harry could do nothing as the agony took hold, but then it was gone.

Panting slightly, Harry stood up straight once more, the pain now just a dull ache, a reminder of what he was about to do. Checking his watch, Harry saw that he had five minutes until the moonlight would strike the Rock of Initium and the ritual would be complete and so he positioned himself in line with the rock and waited. Standing there, gazing out into the night and up to the Rock of Initium which still pulsated with a warm and life like glow, Harry started to doubt what he was about to do. Not for the first time, anxiety set in over what he was doing to himself and he had to fight with his own body and mind to remain rooted to the spot when a large part of him just wanted to run away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"And we're sure that the unicorn blood will work, it doesn't need to be taken by me in cold blood?" Harry asked as he sat on his bed, talking with Hermione Ron and Ginny and sorting out the final details of the ritual.

"It doesn't say that you need to kill the unicorn, or that it needs to be dead at all, not in any of the books I could find anyway." Hermione replied, "But-. But are you sure you want to do this Harry? I mean, you could be killed and we don't know what the effect will be of the Rock being split in two."

"I don't want to do this Hermione but I have to." Harry said, "Voldemort will be going through with it and should he be imbued with the power of the founders, no one will be able to stand in his way. Not even me. Have we still not found any reference as to what happens if the Rock breaks?"

"No." Ginny began. "Nothing at all, it doesn't seem to be something the founders even considered, there's certainly no mention of it in any of the books we've read. It could work normally for both of you, it could work for just one of you, you might just gain power over two of the four elements or it could-. It could kill you."

Ginny's voice cracked slightly as she finished her reply and Harry placed a comforting arm around her, secretly scared at the decision he had just made and his own words.

"Then the ritual goes forward."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry looked at his watch and saw that there were just seconds to go. This was it. There was no turning back. Looking up to the Rock of Initium, Harry saw the silver moonlight shine into it and the magical clinohumite seemed to absorb it, letting none pass through until eventually the room was pitch black but for the pulsating orange-red rock, filled with silver light which seemed to swirl around it. And then, without any warning, the light was released, like a silver-red curse as it shot out of the rock with amazing speed and struck Harry in the chest. The light poured into him in a constant and relentless beam and Harry was lifted from the ground and into the air, his arms spread wide as if he was on a crucifix as he was engulfed in absolute and agonising pain.

For hours, it seemed, this torture continued and Harry felt his magic surround him, glowing a brilliant white as it tried desperately to protect its master from the force that was threatening his life. The silver-red beam of the Rock of Initium continued to pour into Harry's chest, however, and eventually the room, illuminated by the bright light which emanated from him, started to turn dark and, with huge relief, Harry felt the darkness begin to claim him and didn't put up a fight as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Eventually, the Rock seemed to eject all of its power and the beam faded and died, throwing Harry against the far wall as it disappeared. The Rock of Initium fell to the floor and the glow which had once emanated from Harry faded away leaving the room in almost complete darkness. Harry slid down from the wall as he struck it with massive force and landed on the floor, his arms flopping out to his sides and his chest lying still as he breathed no more. Seconds slowly passed by and the boy who lived didn't stir, his heart lying still and his lungs permanently deflated. But then, almost imperceptibly, his hand twitched and Harry Potter's eyes burst open and he sat bolt upright, gasping heavily to bring life bringing air to his oxygen starved body as his heart reawakened, beating at speed. Harry just had time to feel immense pain wrack his body before he felt what little energy he had drain out of him and he collapsed back down to the floor into glorious unconsciousness.

The End.

A/N: Well there you have it. Again, this is a very old story now and there is a lot I would do differently if I were to write it today but I like to think there's still merit to it. Thanks for reading, please do leave a comment below to tell me what you think, I will still see it.

I will start posting the chapters of the sequel, Harry Potter and the Elixir a Lumina, which is I think is considerably better than Birth of a Legend, very soon. In the meantime, check out my Author's Page to see other HP fanfiction written by me. Thanks, Dr. Sheep.