Harry Potter and the Edge of Infinity

By

Lewis M. Brooks, III

Description

It has been three months since Voldemort fell, and Harry Potter is finally putting the demons that have plagued him to rest. He is relaxed, happy, and in love. For the first time he can see a future for himself, but that all changes when before his eyes, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione vanish. With no suspects or clues of any kind, Harry finds himself helpless to find his two best friends and the girl he loves.

A mysterious Dark Lord has launched an assault against all of reality from a place outside of time and space. For hundreds of years he and his Queen have searched for something across the Multiverse, leaving death and destruction in their wake, and at long last they have found their prize. Can Harry Potter save his friends and stop the Dark Lord from conquering all of reality?

Author's Note

There are a few important things you should know about this story. This story is Harry Potter with a heavy dose of science fiction. If you aren't familiar with the term Multiverse, then you should look it up. In short, the Multiverse is made up of an infinite number of parallel worlds. There will be three separate Harry Potter "universes" in this story, the canonical universe, plus two others where events happened differently than they did in canon.

Additionally, for the purposes of this story, I am saying that the universes of the Multiverse not only contains worlds similar to the one we know of in Harry Potter canon, but ones that bear no resemblance to the world in which Harry potter is set. In short, I have set it up to have characters or objects from any completely unrelated fiction show up. Believe me when I say, these other characters and objects play a minor, but necessary roll in the story. The story does in fact take place within canon up through chapter thirty-six of Deathly Hallows. Also, it should be noted that none of these other characters show up within the canon Harry Potter world, so this isn't "Insert Random Character Here" decides to show up at Hogwarts. Most of this story takes place outside of Harry's reality. It is not necessary to know anything about these other characters or objects. The characters should be easy enough to look up online, and at the end of the story I will list all of the mentioned objects and what they are. Not knowing won't affect the story, with one exception. That exception will be explained within the context of the story.

This story is not connected to any of my other stories.

Except for the plot, none of this belongs to me.

Prologue – Another World

It was late. The large clock on the wall had struck eleven a few moments earlier. The lone occupant of the room slumbered upon his throne and was bathed in the dim light of the candles, which were magically suspended in the air above him. His long black cloak allowed only his head and hands to be seen, and was in stark contrast to his nearly white skin.

Above him the enchanted ceiling mirrored the calm, clear night sky. While the stars twinkled and the full moon shone brightly, the light did not reach the darkened room. The room was still and nearly silent. The slight flicker of the candles was the only movement. The sleeping figure's raspy breathing and the low hiss of the snake that slept coiled at her master's side were the only other sounds in the room.

This room would change little during the day from its current state. It was brighter when the sun was up, though the windows, through which sunlight once poured, were now shrouded by thick drapes, which were rarely ever opened. Large lamps on the walls illuminated the room while the master of the castle held court.

Many would come to seek an audience with him. He was, after all, the supreme ruler of the entire world. There was not a place on earth where his power did not reach, nor nearly a being in the world that did not bend to his will. A few delusional holdouts still resisted, but in time, they would fall as all the others had. Their dwindling numbers had long since ceased being a threat.

This castle had not always been like this. Just three years ago, it was a school. Young witches and wizards learned magic here. This room was their Great Hall, where they would gather the whole school together for functions and for meals. It was once the nerve center of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now it was a throne room from which a tyrant ruled the world, and the name Hogwarts was but a memory that few could recall.

The stillness of the night was broken as the snake hissed loudly, and its master awoke. A pair of snakelike scarlet eyes shot open, peering into the darkness, taking in the empty room. He moved his hand, almost imperceptibly, summoning his servant.

A moment later, the large doors at the rear of the hall opened, and a lone figure scurried in. He was a short lump of a man. His black cloak hung loosely around him, as he walked stooped over, more out of fear than respect. As he approached the thrown, a silver hand, which shook slightly, emerged from beneath the cloak, and pulled back his hood.

"You s-summoned me, my Lord," squeaked the man shakily. His rat-like nose twitched, as his small watery eyes showed the fear he felt.

"Yes, Wormtail," hissed Voldemort slowly. "Nagini is hungry. Fetch a muggle from the kitchens so she may dine. A young one I think…she so enjoys playing with small children."

Wormtail swallowed hard, as he looked toward the snake. "Yes, of course, my Lord," said Wormtail. "I shall do so straight away."

Voldemort stood soundlessly, moving like a phantom. "I am going for a walk," said Voldemort, as a smile began to cross his lips. "I think I'll pay my old friend a visit before I retire for the evening."

"Will you require anything else tonight?" asked Wormtail softly, his head still bowed low.

"Inform Bella that I will be to bed soon," said Voldemort. "Then you may retire."

"Of course, my Lord," replied Wormtail. "Thank you."

Wormtail bowed low, as Voldemort swept past him. He glided over the floor as he walked, far more like a ghost than a man. He could hardly be mistaken for a man.

The guards outside the throne room bowed low as he entered the Entrance Hall. It too was darkened. Voldemort quickly made his way to the dungeon, to the cell he visited often. He stood outside the cell, a snakelike grin on his face, as he peered in through the bars at the lone occupant.

Inside the cell, the stench of feces and death permeated the air, though the prisoner had long since lost the ability to smell it. The cell was unfit for habitation, even by an animal, yet it had been his home for three years now.

The old man sat against the wall of the cell. He was one hundred and seventeen years old, but looked far older. He felt even older than that, almost as if he had died years ago, and not realized it.

His wrists and hands were chained to the wall, sporting bruises, which would never fade. His skin was covered with dirt, blood, and sores, bearing the unmistakable signs of neglect. His flesh was pale and wrinkled, and hung from his bones like a sheet. Almost no part of him was unscarred.

His silver hair, which he had worn long for many years before his imprisonment, now reached beyond his feet, and had turned gray and wild. He wore nothing but a filthy tattered gray cloak, which was in nearly as bad condition as he was. He shivered, almost imperceptibly, in the cold air of the dungeon. He had almost stopped noticing the cold. He had forgotten what it was like to be warm.

Upon his crooked nose sat half moon spectacles. Each lens was cracked, as it had been since the day of his imprisonment. His once bright blue eyes were now darkened saucers after years in the sunless dungeon. Though he was not asleep, he was still, and the only sound he made was a muted wheeze as he breathed.

The prisoner's mind was intact, but only just. He was as near to insanity as one could be without actually being insane. Perhaps insanity would have been better he often thought. At least then he might be able to rid his mind of the terrible images. They were reminders of his folly that had led the world to its current state.

As terrible as his physical and mental condition and the conditions that he lived in were, they were many times better than the condition of his soul. While his body lived, his soul had died years ago along with the boy he loved like a son, the boy he had failed. The boy once known throughout the Wizarding world as The Boy Who Lived, lived no more.

"Hello, Albus, my old friend," cackled Voldemort with an evil smile. "How are you feeling tonight? Well, I hope. There is nothing to break up a boring evening like coming down to see you."

Albus Dumbledore lifted his head just far enough to see the snakelike scarlet eyes through the cracked lenses of his glasses. He had long since lost the will to fight and nearly the will to even resist. Only in one single way did he hold out.

"Fine…Tom," said Dumbledore barely above a whisper. Unable to hold his head up any longer, he looked back toward the floor.

Voldemort fought the angry scowl that crossed his face. He didn't want to give the old fool the satisfaction, but he never could manage to pretend not to be angry. His given name was an abomination. Had any other spoken it, they would have died before the echo of it ceased. After a moment, the scowl dissolved into a smile.

"One day, Albus…one day, you'll learn," said Voldemort with a smile. "I've told you many times. I ask so little, and in return, I'll grant you mercy. All you have to do is call me by my true name, and ask me, and I'll put you out of your misery. I'll end your suffering. Say it just once. Say, 'please, Lord Voldemort, kill me.' That's all it will take to end your suffering. Such a simple thing."

Dumbledore forced his head up again. It was the only thing he could still do. He could deny the monster the one thing he had not achieved, the one victory he coveted more than any other.

"No thanks…Tom," whispered Dumbledore, before he drew a ragged breath. "I'm afraid I'll have to pass. You beat me, Tom…a long time ago. You won the war…but you'll never break me. I would welcome death, but you will have to live with failure."

"Do you enjoy the torture?" asked Voldemort in a sickeningly sweet tone. "Perhaps you've grown to relish it as much as I do?"

"No," said Dumbledore softly. "I don't enjoy it…but I do deserve it."

"Very well," spat Voldemort with a scowl. He slowly drew the Elder Wand from his pocket. "I still remember the day I wrenched this from your hand. I always imagined that it would be harder to defeat you…but then your heart wasn't really in it, was it? Not after your one hope for salvation died." He pointed the Elder Wand at Dumbledore. "Crucio!"

Dumbledore felt the pain that racked his frail body, threatening to rip him apart from the inside. He screamed unconsciously as Voldemort continued the spell. As terrible as this pain was, it was what would come next that would really hurt. It was what came next that he both feared and looked forward to. It was his nightmare and his penance. It was what he deserved.

Voldemort canceled the spell. It had become quite unsatisfying to torture Dumbledore. He could tell that for all the pain, Dumbledore wasn't really suffering, not like he used to. Fortunately, there were other ways, which Voldemort found so much more satisfying.

"You know what comes next, Albus," grinned Voldemort. Dumbledore said nothing and didn't move. "Very well." Voldemort pointed his wand at Dumbledore again. "Legilimens!"

As a scream of soul wrenching pain escaped Dumbledore's lips, inside his mind, he could see as clear as day the events that led to the death of Harry Potter. He watched as he made the greatest mistake of his life, even greater than the mistake that cost his sister her life. It was the moment he doomed the world.

Voldemort stopped the memory, and Dumbledore slumped against the wall, tears falling from his eyes, and sobs escaping from his lips. "I'm so sorry, Harry. It's my fault. It's all my fault," squeaked Dumbledore.

"Right you are, Albus," agreed Voldemort with a laugh. "Goodnight, Albus. Sleep well." Voldemort turned away from the dungeon. He hesitated for a moment, and then glided away.

In the shadows near the cell three animals watched Voldemort depart. When they were sure he was gone, a squirrel, a red haired rabbit, and a large black dog moved toward the door of the cell, all reverting to their human forms as they did.

"Albus," whispered the oldest of the three cloak clad men who stood outside the cell. He pulled back his hood and shook his head, allowing his long black hair to fall away from his face.

"Sirius," whispered Dumbledore, unable to lift his head. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, Albus," said Sirius quietly. He turned to his companions. "Pick the lock. As long as we don't cast any spells, we shouldn't be detected."

"Right," said the taller of Sirius's companion. He pulled some tools from his pocket and began to work on the lock. A few moments later, the lock clicked, and as quietly as they could, they swung the door open. They went to Dumbledore and knelt down in front of him. They began to pick the locks on the shackles that held him. They were much harder to get open than the cell door.

"You shouldn't have come, Sirius," sighed Dumbledore. "I'm no good to you…to anyone. Leave me…I'm finished. I have been for years."

"I don't believe that for a moment," said Sirius as he furiously worked on one of the shackles. "Even if you aren't any good to us, I wasn't going to leave you here. I only wish we could have come sooner."

"We'll have you out in a minute," said the shorter of Sirius's companions.

Dumbledore turned towards him, squinting through his broken spectacles at the man, whose hood had now fallen away from his face, revealing a head of long red hair. "George?" muttered Dumbledore weakly.

"Fred," he replied tonelessly as he continued to work on a shackle. "George…was killed last year."

"And the rest of your family…" asked Dumbledore weakly, as a sick feeling swept over him. He already knew the answer.

"I'm the last Weasley," said Fred as he worked on the shackle. "We buried Hermione last month. At least she's with Ron now."

The third man pulled back his hood as his frustration with the lock he was working on grew. Dumbledore looked at him. It took only a moment to recognize him.

"Cedric Digory?" said Dumbledore questioningly.

"Yes sir," said Cedric, as he finally was able to remove the shackle from Dumbledore's left ankle. "We're getting you out of here."

"I don't think so," hissed a gleeful voice from behind them.

Sirius, Fred and Cedric reached for their wands as they stood up and turned toward the door of the cell.

"Don't!" said Voldemort as he pointed his wand at them. "Don't move." Sirius, Fred, and Cedric all stood motionless, their wands still in their pockets.

"Well, well, well," grinned Voldemort. "Sirius Black, leader of the resistance. This is indeed an honor."

"You should know the castle is surrounded," said Sirius, his voice filled with confidence that he didn't feel. "If we don't come out, they will attack."

"This is the end for you," said Cedric bravely. "Even if we don't get out of here, you won't survive the night."

"That's a bluff and we all know it," laughed Voldemort. "Whatever pitiful force you have out there, my Death Eaters will make short work of them. There aren't enough of you left. Even with three of you, you do not stand a chance against me."

"You'd be surprised," said a voice from the shadows. "Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort ducked, as a killing curse flew from the shadows outside the cell, narrowly missing him. He dove into a corner of the cell, as Sirius, Fred, and Cedric drew their wands. A fourth man joined them. He was short with shoulder length blond hair that whipped around his face as he leapt into the cell. He wore a patch over his left eye, and had a number of scars on his face.

"Well done, Patch," said Sirius. A moment later, the four of them were dueling Voldemort, as Dumbledore still lay against the wall, attached by one wrist.

"You can't defeat me," hissed Voldemort as he dueled the four of them. He was more than a match for them. Shortly he would kill them, and the resistance would die with its leader.

Suddenly, they could hear a buzzing sound and the air around them began to crackle with energy. The five combatants all stopped, looking around confusedly.

"What are you doing," demanded Voldemort, his scarlet eyes flashing with anger. "What magic is this?"

"We aren't doing anything," bellowed Sirius as he looked around for the source of the disturbance. He saw nothing to explain what was happening.

The buzzing got louder, and it seemed as if they were surrounded by lightning that danced at the very edge of a sphere that was engulfing all of them. The very air within the globe around them began to glow red.

Fred tried to move out of sphere, but found that they were trapped. "We can't get out," yelled Fred.

"What are you doing? I demand you stop this!" screamed Voldemort as he looked around wildly for a way to escape.

"This…isn't…magic," whispered Dumbledore as he looked around, his eyes wide with shock. "This is…something else."

A moment later, the six men vanished in a flash of light.