Full Summary: The Last Dragonborn is trapped, locked in eternal combat against Alduin the World-Eater in the realm of Sovngarde. The armies of the Aldmeri Dominion now march on Cyrodiil, and without a hero to guide them, the sons of Skyrim continue to shed the blood of their brothers. There are rumors of a dark shadow rising in the West, whispers of evil spreading in High Rock. The future of Tamriel itself seems dire, when an immense storm calls down a lightning bolt of epic proportions, and with it, a hero from another world: The Master of Death.

Preface: This is a Harry Potter/Elder Scrolls crossover, taking place during and after the events of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, featuring Harry as the Master of Death. It starts off with an alternate ending to DH, and kicks off from there.

Special thanks to Aekiel, Fiat, and MattSilver, for being awesome bros and sounding boards for both lore and story. Thanks to Deviatesfish, who helped to keep me on the job. A shout out goes to Lamora, author of such epics as A Game of Champions, and The Legend Yet Grew, which was the primary inspiration for my fic. Finally, thanks to everybody on DLP and SpaceBattles who read and reviewed.

This fic is dedicated to the absolutely incredible C, who keeps me inspired and working hard throughout everything.

Chapter 01

All I could see was light, and I couldn't stop laughing.

It was blindingly bright, and brilliantly white. It was pain, and purity, and mindless energy, all at once. I could feel intense heat against my skin, a scorching flame one moment and a gentle warmth the next, and for all the moments in between, as an infinite number of needle-like blades stabbing into every fiber of my being.

The light was everything, the only thing that I could perceive. I knew nothing but joy, and felt only the light.

Then, the universe righted itself, and I could see.

Stars shone across a vast nothingness, covering my entire field of vision. They were as tiny pinpricks of light on an ink-black canvas, some smaller than others, some larger. I could feel myself being pulled along by an unseen force, moving quickly and gliding across an infinite expanse of space. Distant stars glittered, and I saw vast galaxies swirling just out of my reach.

My reach?

I blinked, the transition from feeling everything at once to feeling nothing at all jarring my mind awake. I had arms. I swiveled my head, turning my eyes downwards. I had legs.

I remembered then – I was human.

I stretched my arms out wide, and felt a liquid sort of pressure washing over them. It was like diving through water, I somehow knew, and I laughed into the nothingness.

I felt power all around me, and furious white fire flooded out of the darkness to carry me to my destination. I knew now, that I was travelling, and the white light was my vehicle. It crackled, and burned, and was impossible to control.

I was riding pure energy - an infinitely massive, endlessly powerful lightning bolt, and I'd only just noticed.

What wasn't there to laugh about?

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed

to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright

and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear

domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person

there, except for—

(Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 35, "King's Cross")

"Hello, Harry."

It was Dumbledore, a grave expression adorning his face, even though he looked glad to see me. He looked differently to what I remembered, wearing flowing robes of the purest white, and missing his customary half-moon glasses.

There was also the fact that I'd seen him fall from the top of the Astronomy Tower nearly a year ago, and attended his funeral soon after.

"Professor? Is that really you?" You're supposed to be dead, the distrustful part of my brain whispered.

"It is I, Harry. And I am most certainly dead." Dumbledore said, his voice briefly taking on some measure of amusement as he did. His good humor lasted only a moment though, and his blue eyes seemed to be made of ice and steel as he turned his gaze to directly meet mine.

"We have much to speak about, dear boy. Come. Walk with me."

Dumbledore began walking away into the grand hall we were in, and a white glow began suffusing the entire structure around us. His strides were brisk and wide, and he walked too quickly for a man of his age. I hastened to follow, and soon matched his steps and stood side-by-side with him. Several moments passed, before I decided to speak up.

"Where are we, Professor?" I asked, casting my eyes around the massive stone structure we walked in.

"Where do you think we are, Harry? What do you see?" Dumbledore answered a question with two questions, which was infuriatingly like him, and served to alleviate some of my caution.

"We're in the Great Hall, I think," I started, and looked around the hall again before continuing, "There's no tables though, and everything's white."

"I would have thought you would choose a simpler metaphor, Harry. A train station, perhaps." Dumbledore said, looking somewhat amused. "We are in a place between life and death – the Hall is a bridge, or taking into account what you see around you, a waiting room if you will, to the afterlife."

I nodded, accepting his answer for the time being, and moved onto more pressing matters.

"I saw you die, sir, and your portrait told us – me and Ron and Hermione – to hunt down the Horcruxes. We did. We got the Locket, and the Cup, and the Diadem, and we also got…" I reached up to touch my scar reflexively, tracing the contours of the lightning bolt on my forehead as I usually did.

"Voldemort took over the Ministry, and he came to Hogwarts. Neville killed Nagini, I think, and I went out to the Forbidden Forest to meet him. And…" I trailed off, realizing that if this whole thing wasn't a hallucination, then I was probably dead. Dumbledore looked at me, curiosity evident in his eyes.

"I didn't defend myself. I meant to let him kill me." For some reason, Dumbledore smiled at that.

"You are a brave man, Harry. Not many could accept death as you did, to sacrifice yourself so wholly for the sake of others. For that, I am extremely proud of you." His gaze was filled with pride for an instant, but then the worried expression came back, his eyes darkened. "In this instance however, it appears that Fate was not on our side."

He directed us to a bench that had somehow appeared without me noticing, glowing white like the rest of the Hall we were in. He sat down with a grunt, fidgeted around for a few moments to make himself comfortable, and gestured for me to take a seat next to him.

"You see Harry, you are not entirely dead. Not quite, anyway. Your love for your friends, your self-sacrifice… those should have made all the difference." He started, and then put his hand on mine in what seemed to be a comforting gesture. "It is here that I must make a sincere apology to you, for I fear that I have made a gross miscalculation."

"Voldemort," I realized. "Professor, if I was his last Horcrux, and I'm not dead from his Killing Curse, then what happened to the last piece of his soul?"

"It should have died, Harry. It should have died. By all rights, it should have perished. It appears however, that it survived. And therein lays our problem." As Dumbledore spoke, the chamber around us seemed to darken. The white light surrounding us ebbed and flowed, as if it was fighting off some unseen force. He glanced about, and furrowed his brows.

"We must make haste; it appears that he is more powerful than I had previously anticipated. We do not have the luxury of security now, but no matter – we cannot let these words go unsaid. I'm sure you have many questions Harry, but I fear that I must abbreviate my explanations. If circumstances had been more fortunate, I would have elaborated in greater detail…" Dumbledore sighed resignedly. I nodded, and motioned for him to go on.

"As you doubtlessly understand, Lord Voldemort took your blood, and with that act took within himself magic that he could never comprehend – your mother's protection, Harry. He did so in an attempt to strengthen himself, but in taking your blood, he linked his mortality to yours. You eliminated his many Horcruxes one by one until only he remained, but there existed one more piece of his soul." Dumbledore continued.

"Me." I replied pointedly.

"Yes, Harry. You, or rather your scar. I will not bore you with speculation as to how the final piece of his soul latched onto you. Suffice it to say, this piece of his soul remained inside of you your entire life. It was this that allowed you to speak Parseltongue, and allowed you to occasionally see into Voldemort's mind – and he into yours." Dumbledore's expression was wary now, and I could feel the room becoming even darker than before.

"This was my error in judgment. It was a grievous error, one that may have cost us everything. I had not taken into account that as much as this piece of Voldemort's soul belonged to him, it was at the same time a crucial part of you. I underestimated how deeply the Dark Lord's soul had entrenched itself in your being. Your choices defined you – your valor versus his vile greed - I had hoped that these choices would be enough."

"You accepted death with open arms, Harry. You mastered all three Deathly Hallows – the Stone, the Cloak, and the Wand, and having welcomed death as a friend, you became a true Master of Death. But impossibly and quite paradoxically…" Dumbledore sighed, "He, or more accurately it, has become, shall we say, a Master of Death by proxy."

I didn't know what to say. The Hallows were instrumental in keeping my friends and I alive, and once all was said and done, they were the only things that had allowed me to come as far as I had. The Invisibility Cloak hid us from harm, so that we might strike against our foes unseen. The Resurrection Stone gave me the strength to face my fear – and my death. That left only the Elder Wand, which I was sure I didn't have on me. Voldemort – the 'real' one – used it to kill me in the Forbidden Forest, after all.

"That doesn't make sense, sir. I didn't have the Wand – Voldemort did. And he used it kill me." I pointed out, not understanding. If he used it to kill me, or send me into this limbo state, or whatever this white plane was, then surely Voldemort was the master of the Elder Wand.

"The short of it, is that Lord Voldemort was never the true master of the Elder Wand. It so happens that the Deathstick – the Elder Wand, as you called it – only truly obeys the wizard that has earned it by right of conquest. I was its owner once, but I was disarmed by Draco Malfoy, if you recall. That made the Wand his, though I doubt he knew it. I instructed Severus to strike me down, transferring ownership of the Wand to him in the eyes of all those present – this deception was necessary, I am afraid." Dumbledore spoke in hushed tones, and then fell silent. Clearly he wanted me to piece things together on my own, so he didn't have to speak aloud.

Going by what Dumbledore said, when Voldemort killed Snape, he believed that the Elder Wand then became his. In reality, Malfoy was the true Master of the Elder Wand, and I'd disarmed him, in effect defeating him. That made me the current Master.

"So I really am the Master of Death." I whispered, more for my own benefit than Dumbledore's, though that didn't stop him from nodding along.

"Now, you understand." It was a statement, rather than a question, that came from Dumbledore's mouth. "He could not strike you down, not truly – the Wand wasn't his to begin with, and it could not be used to kill its own Master any more than a pig can sprout wings and fly on its own. It simply went against the nature of the Wand to do so."

"But the sliver of Voldemort's soul that resided in you also has a measure of Mastery over the Wand. It is a part of you, after all. And rest assured, Harry, it is coming. It is coming to claim that Mastery for itself, to fight off the Killing Curse that is threatening to kill the both of you, and emerge as the only Master of Death in the wake of your ruin. That is what is at stake here." He said, gravely.

"Here, in this twilit space between the living world and the next, the Wand is as much a part of you as it is a physical object in the waking realm. It is an integral part of your soul now. The Wand is a symbol. It represents your status as the Master of Death, and whomsoever holds it, in this metaphysical plane… he is the true Master." He paused to take a breath, cautiously watching our surroundings as he did.

"The shard that resided in you is Voldemort at the height of his power, Harry. It was made when he killed your mother in cold blood, and then turned his wand against you – the Voldemort that you know today is but a shadow of his former self, in many ways; madness took root at his rebirth. You must not let him have the Wand, Harry. You must not." It was uncharacteristic of Dumbledore to be so emotional, to let desperation color his words. I nodded, to show my understanding.

The whiteness of the room dimmed again, flashing and pulsating as if to punctuate his words. From Dumbledore's expression, I took the flashing to mean that the piece of Voldemort's soul in my scar was gaining ground and breaking past any protections that stood between this place and wherever it was. I blinked, and in the moment I'd had my eyes closed, Dumbledore had drawn his own wand from some place within his white robes.

"I shall aid you in its defense. Call the Wand to you, Harry. Leaving it hidden is of no use here – the Horcrux would not hesitate to strike you down unarmed, should you remain without it. It should come to you if you call it, Harry. You are its true Master, for as long as you hold it. Now, make haste – he comes!"

The vast chamber shook violently. Glowing white stone cracked and crumbled, sending sparkling white motes of dust flying into the air. Crystalline glass, from windows so up high that I could only see them if I craned my neck, shattered and began to fall like jagged blades. Walls fell, and the roof seemed to disappear into black nothingness, leaving only half the walls and most of the floor intact. It seemed as if we were in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, only it was split in twain along the middle, and pieces were falling off into an absolute void.

I warily let my right hand wander to my jeans pocket, where despite not having any reason to, I knew the Elder Wand would be. My fingers touched a knobby, wooden handle, and I let myself smile. It really came.

I whipped it out of my pocket, and felt a rush of power flow through me. I shivered, goosebumps rising all over my skin. I nodded, and Dumbledore, upon confirming that I was able to call the Wand, grimly turned to face the void that encroached upon our position. We only had to wait for a moment before a cold, high laughter began to ring out into the crumbling Hall.

I shuddered involuntarily. I knew that laughter, though it was different from the way that the Voldemort I knew laughed. His was a cold laugh like this one, but colored in a psychotic, unhinged cruelty. I was used to it, despite it being a terrifying sound. No, I shuddered because on some level, I remembered this laughter from when the Dark Lord had come to kill me as a baby. This was the laugh of the ruthlessly efficient, unimaginably cruel man that had murdered my mother and father. More than anything, I felt righteous anger burning inside of me at that thought.

"Harry Potter," The Horcrux spoke slowly, his voice silky and dangerous. White clouds blew away into nothingness with a howl of wind, and as the dust settled, he slowly came into view. "I've come for what's mine."

The Horcrux grinned toothily, and spread its arms wide. He didn't look like the Voldemort that I knew from experience, though he had the same impossibly pale skin and red, reptilian eyes. He was still Tom Riddle, not the supernatural monster he'd become. That much was evident, though he looked so gaunt that he was probably more bone than human. He had fine features that would have been considered handsome, if he didn't look so starved and maddened, and raven black hair flowed down to his ankles as if it had been left untended for years – which I noted, made some sort of sense.

"It's not yours," I told him, and readied the Elder Wand, "It'll never be."

"So be it!" The Horcrux snarled, and made a sharp, jabbing motion with his hands. Blades of cold, frigid winds seemed to shimmer in the air around him, before he swung his arms wildly, and the blades shot out at Dumbledore and I – but dying evidently hadn't slowed the professor down at all, and with a deft twirl of his wand, he summoned a wall of fire to shield us from the malevolent magic. Dumbledore turned to me, and mouthed the words he must not have it, before turning his attention back to the spell.

I knew I couldn't compete against magic of this magnitude, even though I could probably manage more than I thought I could because of the elder Wand. I dropped to a crouch, and sped off at an odd angle to Dumbledore's shield to get a better vantage point against the Horcrux.

Dumbledore wordlessly stabbed his wand forward, sending the flames rocketing towards the Horcrux. The Horcrux sneered in response, and I saw his blood red eyes glint with a look I couldn't identify, somewhere between disgust and malice. With a deft motion, he froze the inferno in its tracks – literally. Fire seemed to crawl to a standstill at first, and began to freeze over as if it was jagged, orange ice. The Horcrux snapped his fingers, and the flame-cicle cracked and shattered into a thousand pieces.

"You would intercede on behalf of the boy even after your death, Dumbledore? You cling to life, though you no longer have any claim on the mortal coil – you hypocrite." He venomously spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Dumbledore, crimson spell-light forming at its tip.

"I do what I must, Tom. Now, begone!" Dumbledore roared, and forced the Horcrux on the defensive, a torrent of white lightning erupting from his wand and branching into countless tendrils of ferocious power. The Horcrux dodged and weaved, and made a slicing motion with his hand – and a wave of furious red light came upon us like a tidal wave.

I ducked down to avoid the spell; Dumbledore brushed it aside with barely a thought.

The Horcrux snarled again, and disappeared from view. Dumbledore's lightning zapped through the space he'd occupied moments before, and a thunderous explosion nearly deafened me. I braced myself, letting the shockwave wash over me. This duel was beyond me; I couldn't stand against the sheer skill the two masters of magic displayed just now, and so I stayed crouching, a small distance behind Dumbledore so that he stood between me and the Horcrux. The Horcrux itself had seemingly Apparated though, and reappeared some distance away.

"Let the boy fight his own battles, Dumbledore. Let him be a Gryffindor to the last!" He mocked disdainfully, his tongue curling over the name of my House. "He disgraces the name, Dumbledore. He conceded victory to my counterpart – the boy allowed himself to be killed, like a lamb to be slaughtered! He is a coward, not a savior!"

"There is true power in love and self-sacrifice, Tom. It is power that you could never understand," Dumbledore growled, then continued in a gentler tone, "Do not allow his words to hold sway over you, Harry. You have already overcome him with precisely those things, and he hopes to take that advantage away from you."

Dumbledore's advice made sense, but the Horcrux's commentary still shook me. Had I given up? Had I allowed the real Voldemort to kill me so I could take the easy way out? It was true that it was the only way to safely secure the lives of everyone at Hogwarts, I knew, but a small part of me found itself agreeing with the Horcrux.

The larger part of me however - the primordial, Gryffindorpart of me, roared its defiance at that thought. I did not give my life in vain, nor for Voldemort's mere shadow to affect me with a few choice words.

"I won't let him call me a coward, Professor." I whispered, and hearing no immediate response, took a deep breath. I exhaled, and air left my lungs in a great heave.

"This is my fight, not yours."

Dumbledore appeared to deflate when he heard me, and momentarily closed his eyes. He appeared resigned, as if I was missing some great secret that I should have understood intrinsically, but then readied his wand again. "Very well. We all do what we must."

"Stupefy!" I shot off the first offensive spell that came to mind, and crimson light sped off towards Voldemort's soul shard. He jumped to avoid my spell, and responded by effortlessly throwing a storm of icicles the size of broadswords at me.

I couldn't survive that.

"Protego!" I shouted, putting every ounce of my being into maintaining my shield. Blades of ice smashed against it, making it flicker with each consecutive hit – as much raw power as the Elder Wand provided for me, and as much leeway it gave to me when it came to spellcasting, there was only so much I could do against an attack of this magnitude.

A jet of flame appeared in front of me though, forming into another fiery wall, and the icicles turned to harmless water as they passed through the barrier and splashed against my shield. Dumbledore stepped in front of me now, standing protectively in front of me.

"I am still your friend, Harry, and you are still in need of my aid. Pride does not avail you here. He is strong, terribly so, but he is still only a Horcrux. He has only as much strength as you allow, Harry – I am sure of this now. You are yet the true Master." He said, and slung another massive bolt of lightning towards the Horcrux, cold determination filling his visage. The Horcrux only laughed in response. He was chuckling lightly at first, with both his hands splayed out in front of him to keep Dumbledore's lightning at bay. Soon, he was laughing uproariously, his amusement plain to see.

"You have no real power here, Albus. I see now; it is only by the will of the Aetherthat you remain in this realm. This is the waking dream of the Master of Death…" The Horcrux continued to chuckle, "And I am He!"

Dumbledore responded by flicking his alabaster wand three times in rapid succession, and chunks of glowing white debris rose up and seemed to morph into three enormous statues, armed to the teeth and dressed as ancient Roman legionnaires. The legionnaires opened their mouths in soundless war cries, and fell upon the Horcrux with their weapons drawn.

The Horcrux cursed, and still holding Dumbledore's magic at bay, summoned a massive, nine-headed serpent of his own that bled black ichor onto the snow-white floors of the Hall, setting it to occupy the legionnaires.

He's distracted, I realized. I won't get another chance like this.

"Bombarda!" I seized the moment, and let loose a barrage of Blasting Curses at the Horcrux while he was occupied. My magic wasn't as refined or as experienced as Dumbledore's, or even Voldemort's – but with the Elder Wand fueling my spells, they were more powerful than they could easily defend against.

The Horcrux hissed, diverting his attention to defend against my spells as well as Dumbledore's. He couldn't afford to let the lightning through his defense, and compromised by focusing less effort on deflecting my attack. Two of my curses were deflected by his shield and went skittering off at odd angles, but a single Blasting Curse smashed into his side. He went sprawling, rolling once, twice, three times, before careening off the edge of the Hall and into the void.

Dumbledore's legionnaires fought against Horcrux's hydra in the backdrop, crashing and destroying everything in sight like titans, before the hydra suddenly shrieked, and fell apart in a splash of sickening, black oil.

"He is not dead yet." Dumbledore said, seemingly relieved. "But we are safe for the time being. You must-" That was as far as he got, before a blade as dark as the night erupted from his chest, his crimson life's blood staining his white robes.

"I told you, Dumbledore. You have no power here, and the boy yet fears me," The Horcrux gestured towards me, and let Dumbledore crumple to the ground. "So I am still the Master."

I tried not to let the sight of Dumbledore's wheezing, bleeding body bother me. I failed. Dumbledore's blood – how does a dead spirit have blood?– had splattered onto my face. He'd been facing me when he was stabbed, and the tip of the blade came out right in front of my eyes. Surprisingly, it wasn't shock or disbelief or fear that first came upon me.

It was anger.

"Your protector is gone, Harry Potter," The Horcrux said, poison dripping from every word, "You are now utterly without allies. Give me the Wand – it is mine by right. Give me the Wand, and I shall spare your friends' lives."

I ignored him. I've always had a temper to go along with my saving-people-thing. My outbursts during my fifth year at Hogwarts were more a lapse in control than an uncharacteristic bout of aggression. I'd since gotten better at it, and was just good at controlling it, most of the time. Seeing Dumbledore be murdered right in front of me for the second time was two times too many.

He has only as much strength as you allow. I remembered what Dumbledore said, as I watched the Horcrux run him through and discard him without sparing a thought. It wasn't enough that I didn't want to turn the Elder Wand over. It didn't matter that the Horcrux was much more powerful than I was, or that Dumbledore's spirit fell to treachery.

"Give me the Wand, Harry." The Horcrux repeated itself, stepping over Dumbledore, "Your resistance is endearing, but futile. Relinquish your claim to its Mastery, and save your friends."

Think. Think, Harry. It was difficult not to shake in quiet anger at his blatant lack of common decency, and that made it hard to focus. Still, I wracked my brain. What had Dumbledore said? The Horcrux was only as powerful as I allowed him to be, apparently, but that was clearly not the case. This was mymind, or at least I thought it was, and if I say something goes, something should have went. The Horcrux still had power, and had incapacitated the Headmaster. I feared him, and rightly so.

"Give me the Wand, Harry." The Horcrux repeated itself, "I have already defeated Dumbledore, your superior. You have no hope of victory against me – give me the Wand now, and I shall graciously spare the lives of your friends when I return to the Wizarding World."

I bristled at his arrogant tone, but kept my rising temper restrained. A metaphorical light bulb lit up in my head. Why was he wasting his time trying to convince me to give the Elder Wand to him in the first place? He had no compunctions about taking Dumbledore out of the game. Why not overpower me and simply win the Wand from me? That was how the very nature of the fickle Wand worked - it obeyed the wizard who won it through right of conquest.

Then I remembered what the Horcrux said to Dumbledore, in the moments after he had stabbed him. I still feared him, and so he was still the Master. We were both Masters of Death. That must have meant that we both already had claims on the Elder Wand, and in order for him to defeat me and truly claim the Wand for himself, my defeat had to be complete. Simply taking the Wand wasn't enough. He had to vanquishme, as stated by the Prophecy that ruled my entire life up to this point.

Not for the first time, I cursed Sybil Trelawney for making that Prophecy all those years ago in the Hog's Head.

Still, even if the Horcrux had killed Dumbledore or I lost to him in combat, as long as I didn't accept my defeat, I would always have a handle on the Elder Wand. If Dumbledore was right, if Iwas right, then if I allowed myself to feel no fear, I had nothing to fear from him. At least here, wherever the Hall truly was. I felt determination flow through me, and steeled myself.

"I said it once, Voldemort. I'll say it again: it'll never be yours."

"A pity." The Horcrux said, and kicked Dumbledore's body disdainfully. "I think I shall kill the Mudblood first. Or that lover of yours – I've always hated leaving things half-finished."

He was trying to get a rise out of me, to cow me into submission. I felt anger rising up inside of me, bubbling up like molten lead. It could have made me fear for my friends, to worry if my sacrifice would only end up dooming them. Instead, I let my anger control me. The Horcrux had power over me because a large part of me still feared him.

Fear's got nothing on fury.

I yelled something that was halfway between an enraged roar and a controlled curse, and stabbed the Elder Wand forward with such force that it felt like I dislocated my shoulder from the motion. A blue beam that was as thick as a bludger was round erupted from the end of my wand, and burst towards the Horcrux with such speed that he barely managed to block it.

The Horcrux did something with his hands, and blocks of rubble flew towards him, warping and sharpening into jagged, murderous spikes. A brief gesture later, the spikes all shot towards me, their trajectories twisting and curving to try and impale me at angles I couldn't predict – I didn't care. I ignored the giant spikes whizzing around in the air, and broke into a run directly at the Horcrux.

The Elder Wand seemed to drink my emotions, and reinforced my magic. I let the Wand guide me, and I knew then the power it truly held.

The faux-Voldemort needed only one hand to control the stone spikes though, and with his other hand, curled his fingers in a claw-like grip and swiped it through the air. I could feel the magic he summoned even focused entirely on the offense, and it was molten hot and filled with predatory malice.

I didn't even flinch when a serpent of fire appeared in front of the Horcrux, coiled and ready to strike, or when the spikes of glowing white stone came crashing down around me, stabbing into the floor meters deep, chips flying off like shrapnel. The only thought in my mind was getting closer, and so I closed the distance between me and the Horcrux. The fire hissed, and it struck, its jaws distended and fangs glowing with supernatural heat.

"REDUCTO!" I screamed, shoving the Elder Wand through the snake's mouth, my spell's red energy blasting through the intangible flames and clearing them away like a strong wind disperses thick clouds. Strangely, the fire wasn't hot, but rather pleasantly warm, but I let that thought slide by as I focused on destroying the last Horcrux of Lord Voldemort.

The look of surprise on the Horcrux's face was memorable. It was clear he didn't expect me to do that, or be able to pull something as stupid as forcing my way through the veritable storm of lethal spellfire he'd sent my way. It was to his credit as a master wizard though, that he'd already begun to Disapparate out of the line of fire. It was to my credit as the Master of Death on a murderous rage that he didn't escape unscathed.

My Reductor Curse smashed into the Horcrux's shoulder, taking with it a large section of his chest and sending his right arm flying off into the void. The remains of Horcrux's flame summons washed over me, and it felt as if they were seeping into my skin, his magic losing its efficacy against me.

The Horcrux reappeared somewhere off to my right with a faint pop, armless and in pain. He landed harshly on the marble floors of the Hall, and I felt a measure of satisfaction as he screamed in incoherent rage.

The very air around me seemed to quake as the Horcrux made his rage known, and the already crumbling Hall began to fall apart faster and faster, bits and pieces of stone flying every which way. His angry bellowing only continued for a scant few seconds more, but he soon fell silent. The Horcrux's eyes gleamed with a frigid ferocity, barely restrained emotion swimming under the surface, and his scraggly long hair billowed in an unseen gale.

"You dare, Potter? I have seen your pitiful exploits against my counterpart. For nigh on seventeen long years, I have watched you grow, unable to act, locked in that accursed scar. You are weak - too weak. I am the future of the Wizarding World, of a world cleansed of the mundane!" He breathed dangerously, and the volume of his voice rose in a tremendous crescendo, "That power is mine, and it is mine alone!"

Being one-armed barely slowed the Horcrux down, and he immediately fired off a flurry of curses from his remaining hand, an animalistic snarl stretching his gaunt features grotesquely. I could barely keep up, twisting and turning desperately to dodge his spellfire.

A sickly yellow spell caught me in the leg and set it on fire, the curse knocking me down to the floor. I yelped as my cheek smacked onto stone, the impact jarring me for a moment. The Horcrux bared his teeth triumphantly, and I barely managed to get to my feet in time to see his next move.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The Horcrux threw the emerald-green light of the Killing Curse at me, and I hurriedly dodged to the side. I didn't even want to think the effect of one of those would be in my current state. According to Dumbledore, I was neither dead nor alive.

"AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!" The Horcrux thundered, his cries a mix of fury and frustration. I neatly stepped out of the way of the first two curses, and as the third Killing Curse came flying towards me, I stopped.

In a strange moment of clarity, I had an epiphany. All of Voldemort's other Horcruxes were destroyed – and I knew Ron and Hermione wouldn't let me down. I trusted my friends to finish the job I'd started, to finish the Dark Lord off for good. These thoughts ran through my mind in an instant, informed by my anger, or perhaps in spite of it. It would all be for naught if I didn't stop this piece of Voldemort's soul here and now. I couldn't cast Fiendfyre, and I didn't have the Sword of Gryffindor. I was the Master of Death, and the Horcrux needed to die.

So kill him. You know what to do.

I didn't like it. But it was necessary.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" I responded in kind, my own Killing Curse rocketing towards the Horcrux.

Impossibly, but not unexpectedly, the fatal curses met each other in midair. Static erupted from the impact, the unnatural green light of the Killing Curse sending sparks and erratic jolts of green lightning between the Horcrux and me. Unlike with the Priori Incantatem effect, the Horcrux and I weren't locked in a battle of wills. The Elder Wand refused to budge though, and my hands refused to release their hold on it as energy continued to build to extraordinary heights.

The magic of our curses seemed to lock us in our positions, and I could only watch as the energies of the Killing Curses of the Masters of Death swirled in a chaotic vortex. The Horcrux seemed to be in much the same predicament, eyes furiously darting to and fro, presumably to find a way to escape or regroup. It was useless, though. Right now, we were evenly matched, him with his twisted, powerful magic, and me with the Elder Wand, but neither of us were able to move an inch.

The mass of magic between us roared in its intensity, and ghostly fire began streaming out of the glowing green ball. The white stones of the Hall shook and rumbled, and rubble began circling around the two of us, caught up in a rapidly accelerating twister of pure energy. The swirling magic seemed to even suck away my anger and heart for battle, leaving me with a strange sense of acceptance and anticipation, though for what I had no idea. The Horcrux seemed to be in a worse state, though the vortex seemed to have taken his rage as well.

"What is this magic!?" The Horcrux bellowed, though I could only just barely hear him, fear only now entering his voice.

"You tell me!" I hollered back, equally scared, but somehow still marveling at the phenomenon unfolding before me. This was magic beyond mine, and beyond Voldemort's understanding.

The sickening color of the magic seemed to disappear as the vortex mounted in intensity, and the previously Killing-Curse-green lightning and fire of the maelstrom became more and more a pure, white energy, and the entire Hall seemed to catch fire around us.

The Elder Wand burned white in my hands, and the energies of the vortex spun out and flew towards it like electricity to a lightning rod. Power, pure power, shot up my arms and through my body, setting every single one of my nerves on fire.

The agony passed into elation, and somewhere along the line, I began laughing.

The last words I heard were those of an old man, whispering into my ear.

"Good luck, Harry."

I laughed.

What wasn't there to laugh about?

To be continued…

Next Chapter...

I awoke in a blizzard.

My world was a flurry of snow and fire. Shadows danced all around me, flickering and dying. Everything was set aglow with the low light of dying embers, orange light and dark shadows dominating my vision. The light illuminated both the snow around me and the bleached, bare trees that surrounded me on all sides. Dead branches and dried underbrush caught fire and glowed, then turned to black soot that stained and dirtied the snow underneath.

There was an unmistakable stench of burning flesh in the air, and I felt the cold stab into my body like a knife. I couldn't see – everything was blurry, but I could barely make out golden bodies charred black, and white flecks of snow blowing nearly sideways in the wind.

The Elder Wand slipped from my fingers, and I could feel the digits beginning to freeze over in the blizzard blowing around me.

Where on earth was I?