IN THE END (IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER)

Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Bleach - I only own the story. Sorry to disappoint. /grumbles/.

Summary: Harry is chucked in Azkaban. Who will help him? When will be his turn to be selfish? It's shounen – ai, meaning boy/boy love.

Shout Out: So there it is, the last chapter of the Selfish story. Whew. /sighs out, relieved/. Tellin' ya, guys an' gals, I was writing that when they were still gathering the signatures for stopping SOPA 2014 in hopes to motivate y'all little munchkins over there to add your little paw prints, but to my great and happy surprise, you gathered more than enough signatures to reach the threshold, and this is my little thank you gift for you all! /wide smile/. So thank you, you lot really, and I mean really made my day. It took an entire day, two walks with our dog and some other things, but it is finished, and I hope you will enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. It is some kind of a milestone to finally pick up the story I had begun writing in year 2010 and now, four years later, it's finished. (I freaked out on the vanished chapter, so this is main reason for the delay, aside from the Real World butting in). What else can I say? Thank you and Happy reading!

Warnings: AU-verse, killing scenes , violence overall, bad language and shifting POV's with a side of humor mixed in. Not Beta-ed because MHB is being killed by her homework. (Sad, sad times, when paperwork is the enemy. /shakes head despondently/). Calling for an occasional beta!

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

('In The End', by Linkin Park)

Nobody had ever thought that Hogwarts would be besieged. Of course, the Founders had foreseen this possibility, but only from the Muggle side, so the Muggle-diverting charms and barriers had been implemented, not only to Hogwarts, but also so the Forbidden Forest and the lake, thus rendering a big chunk of the ground un interesting to anyone who didn't have magic. Oh, of course the place was still shown on the maps, but by the virtue of … just something, be it bad weather or strange accidents or just plain dismissal, Muggles didn't bother seeing beyond the obvious, so this way worked well for centuries…however, nobody expected that anyone would be brash enough to outright attack the school. Not only because of defenses, but simply because there was a future of wizarding world gathered here in the shape of children, and if nothing else, the attack would be both morally and ethnically wrong.

However, since the rise and fall and second rise of the latest Dark Lord, everything had changed. And now, wizards were paying for their oversight…in sweat, blood, tears and death.

The ancient castle and its surrounding grounds had become a battlefield, enshrouded with colorful light beams - pretty show of lights, but by no means harmless one, as the beams had crumbled the stones, set fire to the buildings and generally done all kinds of harm to the anything they touched.

The smoke was acrid - mixed with the burning owl droppings and both human and inhuman flesh with a hint of wood, along with the stone and sand dust. The Ravenclaw Tower was already in the dominion of Death Eaters, even being half-torn down, making for a gaping wound in the castle's otherwise majestic splendor. Sounds were intermixing within each other - shrieks of fury, glee and despair, calls of spells, and the cacophony of the crumbling structures echoed through the air. It seemed that the castle itself was wailing at its misery of being fought on, while the suits of armor were clinking and clattering, the steel screeching and whining under the force of the spells that impacted their shells while they desperately tried to hold off the invaders from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff dormitories where the young children were hiding.

And still, the misery was continuing.

Hermione ground her teeth when she saw Voldemort laughing while he whirled and tossed around the curses and hexes, like a mad dervish full of glee, a bloodthirsty king about to be crowned with the victory.

Just once….

Just a little bit of luck –

She yelped as someone pulled her down, just in time to avoid one of those pretty green beams, making her blood chill at the sight how her inattentiveness could've cost her.

"Do you have a death wish, Granger!" Daphne screamed at her, the Slytherin girl's mossy green eyes wild with anger and adrenaline, her long hair which was being held together in a disheveled braid was sticking out at odd angles, and her robes were torn and bloody - a testament to her participation in the skirmish –

-Hermione yelped as Daphne flung out her arm, and with a nary but a hateful hiss, the hex screamed out of her wand, and impacting her target - a Snatched who was too slow and paid for his mistake with being eaten alive by the corrosive magic.

Dazed, Hermione gathered her bearings when Daphne roughly yanked her up and behind her, the Slytherin girl not letting her go , making them both stumble across the battlefield, and Hermione had the presence of the mind to thow up a shield - Protego – just in time to prevent them being buried under the onslaught of the stones someone had banished against someone else.

"I do not!" She screamed back, her cheeks flushing with mortification.

"Tell that to someone - Sectusempra! – Who believes you!" Daphne barked back. "After you finish standing like some kind of a guppy in the middle of the war zone!"

Hermione scowled, but couldn't refute the girl's argument. But was asking for a little bit of luck really too much to ask for?

They heard a scream in distance, and both of the girls paled.

"Lavender!"

He shook his head. Never, in all of his life, and that included his previous one - had he seen a massacre to such an extent like the one that was just now happening on Hogwarts grounds. Did the Light really have no concept of strategy? None at all?

'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it firsthand.' He mentally commented to Muramasa, who solemnly nodded. 'But it is happening.' Muramasa muttered back. 'So what now, Master?'

First thing of business…Harry's eyes narrowed at the lake. "I think the lake is still out of the season for swimming. Care for managing the local pest problem?" He muttered, making Muramasa chuckle with delight.

"Absolutely."

And with that, the duo sped in the direction of the lake and the grisly creatures coming out of it.

Still cloaked within Kyokko, the duo was completely invisible to anyone when they arrived to the shore, not minding the terrified defenders who were trying to fend off the Inferi.

Cormac Mclaggen was sweating. Even if he was a bit of a braggart - okay, big braggart! – the kind of an assault he was currently under, he would never have wished on anyone, with exception of the bastards calling themselves Death Eaters. Still, he was panting with exhaustion, his eyesight was blurring and his eyes were stinging with sweat, and yet, he couldn't afford himself to stop, to cease casting, blond hair in a sweat-clumped strands and his legs were shaking with an effort to stay upright. He was here for what - two, three hours? How long? How many corpses had he felled?

He didn't know.

"Cast it!" He heard Seamus' scream and grimaced. What the fuck did that idiot think he was doing?! Grimacing, he muttered out a curse before firing another fire spell out - shame they couldn't use a Fiendfyre, but there really was no one who could sufficiently control it so they were forced to use simple household charms Luna and Ginny taught them. Cormac hadn't been happy when he had found out they had to learn them, but he couldn't help but to admit they were dead useful right now.

Gasping, he ducked away from one of the corpses - how many? How many yet? And swished his wand again, desperation fuelling his movements. He didn't want to end like a corpse chow, thank you very much!

And then, there it was, he made a mistake and his eyes widened when he saw the Inferius he had overlooked reach after him-

-and stop.

"Wha - ?" He bleated out, confused at the turn of his luck.

"Really, Mclaggen, for someone who insisted to be a keeper you have a woefully bad stamina." Someone commented idly, and Cormac bristled.

"And you suppose you could do any better?" he spat out, incensed. He was still smarting over that, and only because one Weasley got one over him.

He heard a snort.

"Watch and learn. Haien!"

With a short bark of that unknown word, there was a mass of purple energy being flared outward beside him, making him yelp with fright, but he still had enough of the presence of the mind to look what that purple light had done –

-and the Inferi screeched when they were enveloped in the cold and somehow warm light - Cormac later on compared it to the lightning and fire being mixed together and he swore he still felt its taste on his tongue -

-the moment passed, and the Inferi were no more.

He gaped. While there had been a mass of corpses trudging out of the water just a scant few moments before, chittering and screeching and wailing, there was now a deadly silence and… nothingness.

He looked on his right side wildly, but he saw nothing. "What - You, who are you?" he asked, but only silence answered him.

And then, there was Susan, with her bodacious body, and wide eyes and strawberry red hair and he was kissed out of his wits, making him breathless and a little too eager to just slump on the ground and breathe and breathe –

"C'mon, we are not finished yet!" Susan called out to him, her smile, Cormac realized, breathtaking on her soot and mud-covered face.

Cormac half-confused, half-goofy expression hardened as he nodded sharply.

If he had any say of it, this would be finished today.

And when one Cormac Mclaggen said something, it usually came true.

Lavender Brown was in a pickle. Scratch that, she was in a big, fat - well, not fat, but furry - trouble. Her efforts to lure the man away from the Hufflepuff dormitories were paying off, but not in pleasant dividends.

The thing was, the man she was playing the bait for, was one and only furball that was giving werewolves all around good ol' England a bad name, one Fenrir Greyback.

"Oy, girlie, that wasn't very nice." The man leered at her, making her already pale skin become clammy with sweat. "You mind I take a… bite out of you for the trouble? " He leered at the girl, making her shiver with disgust, knowing only too well what kind of bite the werewolf had in his dirty thoughts.

"Y-yes, I mind. I mind very much!" Lavender squeaked out. Her dirty blonde hair was flying around her shoulders, and her brown eyes were huge with terror, and she clutched to her wand, carefully biting her lip. Greyback leered and stepped-

NOW!

She flung out the hand swishing the wand, the incantation on her lips changing into a shriek when she was carelessly disarmed, Greyback's mocking laughter making her flinch.

"Oy, oy, girlie. While I appreciate you have so much… spirit," the 'wolf leered at her, making her screw her pert nose with disgust, "I feel that your spirit could be used much better."

Stepping forward, he forced Lavender to step back and stumble a little between the ruins and the rocks, his leer widening to a frightening proportions the more Lavender tried to avoid him - with only a wall behind her.

"Screw… you." The girl panted, her eyes narrowing.

Fenrir snorted. "Wrong. The one who will be screwed…. Is you!" He howled, as he leapt forward, trapping her against the wall and making her shriek with fright.

She felt the 'wolf's disgusting breath on her face, could acutely see the leer of those huge, disgusting yellow teeth and her nose involuntarily crinkled at the man's… scent. She squeaked when she felt something bulging press against her belly - bulging and disgusting and oh - !

"Gerrof!" She grunted, ineffectually trying to push him away, much to the wolf's amusement, but then, his paws clutching at her shoulders, making her take a chance and aim her fingers to his eyes.

She jabbed, and managed to hit his right eye, making him howl with anger and pain, and she screamed when she felt her shoulder bones break under the immense pressure –

"YOU BITCH!" Greyback roared. He intended to play with the little bitch and maybe make her his bet, but no, she had to be stubborn, and because of her he lost his eye - he felt a throbbing agony lance through his wound and felt the liquid leak down the right side of his face and the bitch would pay, pay pay - !

He raised his left hand and slapped the bitch, relishing in her tortured scream as the four of his claws left deep gouged on her cheek, blooding it immediately.

His hand snapped forward and he grabbed her neck - so very fragile and full of life and he could feel the frightened staccato of her heartbeat when the girl was looking away and sobbing, little bitch she was –

Something had crashed on the floor, but Greyback didn't mind it. Why should he? He heard the desperate yells of the two other bitches call the bitch in his possession and smiled a dark, cruel grin.

Why not torture the little bitch a little in front of her little friends?

And then, the hairs on his neck stood up –

"Raikoho." He heard a calm voice speak out, making him stiffen and growl at the intruder he couldn't see in the half-darkness.

The last thing he had seen, was the approach of pale blue, almost white light- he felt an intense, brain-vaporizing pain, and then, nothing.

Lavender Brown was luckier out of the mis-matched duo. Her eyes still hurt due to the intense blast of light at such close proximity, her beautiful face was ruined but she was alive for at least a little bit more.

"T-thank you." She breathed out, dazed, not even minding that her clothes were having a close encounter with the bloody remains of her would-be rapist and murderer. She swallowed, gulping down a bile, before pushing the corpse away, just in time to see both Hermione and Daphne run toward her.

Whoever her guardian angel was, Lavender Brown didn't know. And didn't care, either. Right now, she was too busy to puke her guts out, wincing in her fellow Gryffindor's half-hug.

"Doing good deeds again, Master?" Muramasa's sardonic query was met with narrowed green eyes.

"Someone has to take out the trash." Harry commented mildly as he ducked under another curse and dodging another while he ran through the corridors in search of the chief wanker, aka Lord Voldemort.

"Didn't take you for a trash collector." Muramasa muttered, rolling his eyes heavenwards for a moment before he followed his Master. He was exhilarated to use his abilities on the corpses, freezing them long enough for harry to fire Haien, but he still sulked a little that his master hadn't used his blade yet. Not that he would have liked to be dirtied by that trash's blood, but even though he knew Harry was fast enough to dodge, sometimes his Master had come worryingly close to being wounded.

"But seriously, Mclaggen?" Muramasa asked. He knew, only too well, his Master's grievances with that particular boy, and it was a surprise Harry even elected to help the arrogant twit. But that was his master.

"He's a jerk, but he's a jerk on the right side." Harry told him briskly.

Shaking his head with bemusement, Muramasa ran after Harry.

Whatever his Master was, Muramasa had to admit that life with him was never dull.

And he wouldn't have it either way.

"Hello, Tom."

Voldemort stiffened at hearing that old, wizened voice.

"Hello, fool." He sneered back. While Dumbledore seemed to be in a good shape, the centenarian wizard was actually burdened with wards and him being one of the chief fighters on the Light side also meant that most of the fire power from the Dark side was aimed solely on him, meaning he was more exhausted, despite of having truly formidable reserves of magic.

"Tell me, where do you have your little Savior?" Voldemort taunted, relishing in the old wizard's stiffening of the body and the minute defeated slump of his shoulders.

"Where you can't get to him, Tom. Even if I fall, there will be another to take my place." Dumbledore's resolute answer made the Dark Lord snicker and then guffaw.

"Really, old man? Really?" He asked, his voice loud. "The prophecy states only that brat could kill me, and you had to go and stick him in Azkaban, didn't you?" He twirled his wand idly, before pointing it at the Dumbledore, dark blue curse shooting out, making the old wizard jerk his own wand in a sharp motion, creating a slab of marble in the curse's path, making the slab explode and forcing both of the combatants to conjure their own shields as not to be hurt by the debris.

"Poor little Harry." Voldemort continued, his red eyes alight with the mocking glee. "You know, old man, I didn't believe you would do the same mistake you have done with me - but surprise, surprise, the Leader of the Light is always right, and so he stuck the brat with magic-hating relatives."

Bushy eyebrows furrowing, Dumbledore glared. "Protection from you was worth more than his minor discomfort at his relatives' treatment."

"Didn't knew you were a yay-sayer for domestic abuse." Voldemort commented idly, swishing his wand and conjuring bloodthirsty ravens to attack the bearded man.

"I never was, Tom." Dumbledore replied placidly.

Red eyes narrowed. "Stop calling me that name! I am Lord Voldemort, and today, I will win!" Voldemort screamed as he flung a torrent of red lightning toward Dumbledore, who blocked it with a shield, but buckling under the strain -

"You always were a Tom to me." Dumbledore gritted out as he felt sweat bead on his forehead.

"Always?" Voldemort asked. "Well, strange how that fondness of yours always sent me back to the orphanage, isn't it?" He growled, pushing more magic in the attack, making the golden shield creak ominously under his onslaught.

"How come you framed Harry?" Dumbledore gritted out, making a small jab and upward flick, sending a torrent of blue-colored flames toward the Dark lord, forcing him to let go of the attack and hurriedly conjure onyx blocks for the flames to intercept and curse when two or three tongues still caught him.

"Why shouldn't I get rid of the pesky brat?" Voldemort sneered out as he aimed Bombarda Maxima at the bystanders, not even caring if he hit his own people or not, making Dumbledore hastily conjure a shield to protect them, and ruthlessly attacking, sending a volley of spears onward, and while Dumbledore avoided most of them, he couldn't avoid all, as he crumble on the ground, one spear sticking through his left tight and another was imbedded in his right side.

"He isn't here to protect your precious little lambs now, is he?" He inquired mildly, making Dumbledore glare at him, while he conjured the walking stick and tried to stand up, only form Voldemort to carelessly banish the stick away. "Great leadership, Dumbledore. Really." He drawled out. "Though I suppose I should thank you for what have you done – "

He batted the incoming spell away – "-but your time has passed. Now it's my time, the time of Lord Voldemort. So, thank you, you were a great teacher." Mockingly, he bowed to the old teacher and then raised his wand to finally obliterate the old fool.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green light rushed forward with a swooshing sound, and Dumbledore closed his eyes with defeat.

Only for the light to be absorbed into some kind of a shield.

"What…?" Voldemort asked, red eyes wide with astonishment, his lanky body, clad in dark robes tensing involuntarily with anger and anticipation. "What kind of sssorcery is that, Dumbledore?" In his anger, his speech slipped, making him hiss like snake.

Dumbledore's eye snapped open. "Sorcery?" he asked confused, "But that wasn't – "

"Me." The third voice drawled out. "Hello, Tommy-boy. Long time no see."

This time, one Lord Voldemort truly hissed like an angry rattlesnake.

"Youuu!" He growled. "Again!"

Dark eyebrows quirked up. "I don't know whether I should be honored or insulted that you know me," the newcomer mused, as he stepped forward, the shield in front of Dumbledore still holding, despite of the young man not having any kind of focus.

"You really don't know when to stand down, do you, basstard?" Voldemort growled back, his hand clenching around his wand almost spastically.

"Takes one to know one, Voldie." The young man, clad in black and red drawled out, the metallic white ornament in his hair glinting starkly against the deep red of his hair, right hand on his sword and another waving Voldemort's anger away uncaringly, as if it were a baldy scented fart.

Green eyes looked at the speechless Headmaster before looking back to their opponent.

It took some moments, but Dumbledore finally managed to place the man.

"Ha-Harry?" Dumbledore choked out, his eyes wide and he reached with one hand to the youth disbelievingly, as if expecting the form beside him was only a shape, made from his deepest hopes and needs, and colored with painful desires of what ifs.

"Dumbledore." The man acknowledged him curtly.

All around them, there were ruins, fire and fighters killing or being killed, and for a moment, their little circle was a place of peace, as absurdly as it seemed to be.

However, no one in their right mind wanted to be in a crossfire that was about to erupt some scant moments after.

It was an evening, and the shadows were painting their faces with demonic shades, making them seem like some kind of demons .

"Harry Potter." It seemed Voldemort finally gathered his wits. "What is a Muggle like you doing here?" He sneered out, red eyes slits of contempt. "After all they have done to you, you are here and protecting them, protecting the one who helped to throw you into Azkaban. Why?"

Black clad shoulders shrugged. "Why not?" He asked.

"Don't you want revenge?" The dark lord inquired, scales-covered head tilting like a curious snake. "Don't you want to hurt them like they hurt you?"

"And if I did?" Harry's answer made the old wizard tense and Voldemort smirk.

"I would offer you a place by my side." Voldemort purred out, stepping forward. "Lower the shield you have over the old fool and kill him."

"Why would I do that, Voldie?" Harry's voice was relaxed, as if they were discussing whether the tea crumpets are fresh or not, not an inflection of fear or disdain being detected in his voice.

"You claim you hate Muggles, and yet you are offering a place to one? Tommy, Tommy, Tom, Tom, your forked tongue doesn't inspire much faith in me. " Harry tsked, as he idly lifted his hand, humming a small ditty under his breath.

"Don't call me Tom!" Voldemort snapped back. "Avada Kedavra!" he screamed out, and the curse sailed toward until then motionless youth.

… and missing him by a mile, but hitting one of Death Eaters.

"Why, look at you, not even aiming properly. Tsk tsk, what an shoddy example of a leader you are." Harry hummed idly, as if he didn't just move superhumanly fast.

Voldemort only growled. "Avada Kedavra, Sectusempra, Cruccio!" he bellowed, but neither of the curses connected. "Stay still, brat!"

"Nah, ah ah, it's more fun when I move. Oh, and by the way…Gaki Rekko! " Harry declared, and from his fingertip, the emerald-white light flared out in the shape of umbrella before snapping forward in the search of a target, making Voldemort yelp and dodge the onslaught, leaving the six of the followers behind him to be the victims of the strange spell.

"Bombarda!" Voldemort called back "Cruor Negra!" Red and sickly yellow curses shot out the yet wand, but the man sidestepped them with ease. "Fiendfyre!"

The mass of black flames spouted forward, making the green eyes widen. They clearly weren't ordinary flames, be that by color or by behavior - they were like small snakes that were becoming bigger, until they were in shape of very slender dragons. He knew that curse - !

"Shit - "

A quick look behind confirmed his fears - a bunch of students was behind his back, desperately fending off some junior Death Eaters. If he moved, then they would be dead. If he stayed, then he would be dead.

Voldemort smirked victoriously. Finally the pest would be dead. Nothing stopped Fiendfyre.

"Hyoga Seiran!" He heard the brat scream out in a desperate voice, which made him smirk sadistically.

"No matter what you do – " he turned away, smirking "You are finished."

But then, something warned him, something cold, enormous something - !

He barely had a time to swap himself with Dolohov before the great icy avalanche was upon the place he was supposed to be, annihilating the black flames in process and freezing almost everything in their path.

Harry was panting with an effort, gasping for the precious air as if it were his last time to do so. He didn't want to use this technique but Voldemort didn't leave him a choice - either to move and lose them, or stay and lose his precious energy.

He coughed and felt something warm trickling down his chin and on the front of his shikahusho.

"Dammit, this body is too weak!" He growled to himself as he was forced to lean on the katana as not to lose the footing.

"Avada – "

He turned around, green eyes wide with surprise –

"Kedavra!" Voldemort howled out with triumph, as the light came upon his hapless adversary.

And struck a body.

Red eyes widened with rage, while the green ones dilated with shock.

"DUMBLEDORE!" Voldemort howled, incensed.

"What - ?" Green eyes looked at the crumpled husk of a man behind him uncomprehendingly. What had just happened?

"That old fool! Sacrificing himself for a brat like you!" Voldemort surged upward. "Well, not for long! Serpensortia, Ignis Laceratem, Avada Kedavra, Cruccio, Terho!"

"Tenran!" Harry snapped out before he managed to flicked out of Voldemort's eyesight, leaving him to deal with the tornado-like blast of white and blue energy.

'You can't afford so many reiatsu-consuming attacks for long!' Muramasa snapped at him, angry. 'You - Look out!'

Harry snapped back just in time to avoid the giant's leg slamming on his head. "Geki!" He screamed out, causing the red orb to streak up, up and up, until it reached the underside of the giant's jaw and then drilled in, like some kind of a ruby drill, and giant bellowed with pain, before it crashed down on the ground like a pupped with its strings cut.

"Fuck you, you bastard!" Harry screamed back, his green eyes wild. 'Muramasa! Can you disable the Death Chowders' wands?' He asked the spirit hurriedly.

Muramasa nodded. 'Yes!'

'Then do it!'

Harry spat out another glob of blood, once again mentally cursing his weak body, "Dammit, I knew I should have stayed in my bed today." He grumbled to himself as he sent a pair of powerful lightning bolts towards Voldemort, distracting him for a moment. "Yūkōjōchū, Muramasa!"

'With pleasure, Master.' The spirit purred out, and in the next few seconds, the ten nearest Death Eaters found out that their wands were curiously uncooperative with them.

"Eh?"

"What?"

"Dammit, not now – AGH!" the complaining Death Eater's life was cut short via a vindictive bludgeoning curse of the sixth year Ravenclaw. The flow of the battle had changed, with the defenders being encouraged and the Death Eaters frantically trying to duck out of the barge of spells they were suddenly subjected to.

"POTTER! What have you done to my Death Eaters!?" Voldemort's angry roar made Harry wince and the defenders look out for him.

"Busted." He grumbled, peeved. Muramasa muffled his snickers behind his elegant hand. Seriously, his wielder was so cute when he was grumpy.

"Harry!"

"Potter!" "Scarhead!"

"Boy-Who-Lived is with us!"

"Oh, not this nickname again, please." Harry would deny it to his dying day, but right then, he practically whined.

"Leveling the playing field, Tommy boy!" he called out, smirking. "Like it?"

"You know damn well I don't! And for the last time, stop calling me that!" Voldemort snapped back. The battle continued with a renewed furor, and Harry had to dodge spells left, right and back, snapping out an occasional one of his own, playing a demented version of hide and seek with the increasingly irritated Dark Lord.

Tired.

So very tired.

Harry's eyesight blurred here and there, occasionally blacking out and only his sheer instincts along with Muramasa's protection saved him from being deader than doornail.

But the battle had to go on and there was still so much to do, like, for an example, luring the Tommy boy to somewhere deserted enough to finally knock him out… for good.

"POTTER!" Harry shook his head from the enraged call.

"Set fangirls on me too, why don't you," He complained back, making Muramasa choke with laughter.

He managed to retreat to the Astronomy Tower, and as if his luck would have willed it, he had one persistent snake on his tail.

"That's not nice, Harry," Muramasa admonished him half-heartedly.

"You would think so, but the man is seriously the biggest fangirl out of the lot. " Harry snapped back. "After me since I was practically in diapers, proposing to me in one fashion or another, yearly pulling the proverbial pigtails and you can't say the man doesn't pull a very believable soprano. And let's not forget that he is a spoiled bitch to his innermost core."

By the end of Harry' s tirade, Muramasa's chuckles evolved into a full-out laughter.

"Ha-Harry," He managed to get out. "That wasn't very nice thing to say."

"But true and you know it." Harry snapped back. "We only lack SWA and their insane ideas of a makeover."

Muramasa guffawed. Voldemort in a drag, courtesy of Shinigami Women's Association would be a sight to die for.

"I resent that." Voldemort's voice was deathly quiet, as his red eyes glared at the exhausted shinigami.

"You mean you resemble that," Harry volleyed back helpfully, before dodging a blasting curse and wincing as some of the stone shrapnel embedded into his side.

"Fuck, when did you come up here?" He asked, green eyes wide.

"When you were whining." Voldemort replied sourly. "Now, cease being a thorn in my foot already!" He barked out as he sent out another volley of curses, making Harry yelp with surprise.

"Yūkōjōchū, Muramasa!" Harry barked out, making Muramasa extend the ribbons to the man, only for the Dark Lord to slash against them and render them useless.

"Interesting trick of yours, but not happening." The Dark Lord muttered out softly.

"Damn." Muramasa hissed, glaring at the wizard as if trying to set him on fire only by pure willpower.

Harry couldn't help but agree with him.

Why didn't their technique work?

"I noticed those little ribbons of yours," Voldemort tapped his non-existent nose smugly.

Harry glared.

"Sectusempra!"

Dodge, dodge jump, roll - ouch!

Harry hissed as his back was pierced via something sharp, and he barely avoided being impaled on the abandoned halberd's point.

Right now, he was a sight for sorry eyes - his front dirty with blood he had been spewing out and his face was a mix of white and ashes, with his hair in a wild disarray and the kenseikan barely in his place.

Harry glanced around.

Of course.

The mirrors.

He grimaced. No wonder Voldemort revealed his little trick so soon.

Damn Vector for her vanity.

Grimly, Harry smiled.

"Any last words?" Voldemort asked boredly as he motioned to the armor suit to prepare to impale the Boy Who Was The Pain In His Ass.

Harry smirked a bloody smirk.

"Kongobaku."

And the world exploded in the red, golden and black flames.

He heard the dying screech of his nemesis before he blacked out.

The aftermath was silent. Of course, there was a reunion between families, shaken people searching for warmth and reassurance that it was really over. It was late in the night and they were still counting the casualties, with the survivors being grouped together having a dinner - simple food - soup, dry fruit and warm chocolate or tea to calm their nerves. Nobody wanted even so much as to look at the meat tonight, and with a good reason.

Nobody could stomach it.

The Savior wasn't with them. He had been found in the Astronomy Tower, miraculously surviving the zero point of the explosion that roasted the Dark Lord to almost unrecognizability. He had been found by Cho Chang and Neville Longbottom who then hurriedly treated the worst of the wounds before calling over Madam Pomfrey to take over the healing.

Only, the wounds didn't seem to heal themselves.

As it was, one Harry James Potter was living on a borrowed time, and only a question of time was when he would die.

The Light had suffered great losses this day - they had lost Albus Dumbledore, their renowned leader, and they were on the brink of losing their hero.

Meanwhile, Harry was lying in the hospital wing in the cleanest bed they could find, his body looking immensely fragile under the pale moonlight.

If someone had seen him, they never would have believed that this man was a powerhouse that managed to level the playing fields against such insurmotable odds. And while the body was slowly descending to the eternal rest, Harry was having a special chat.

When he woke up, he found out that nothing was paining him anymore. Blinking with confusion, he found himself at the well-known Platform nine and three quarters.

Only this time, everything was in shades of white and off-white, making Harry scrunch his nose with discontentment. It was worse than Hueco Mundo, that was for certain.

White everywhere - and Harry became quite fed up with whiteness.

"Muramasa?" he called out. Nothing answered him, and Harry felt his heart sped up. His hand flashed to the belt as to ascertain the blade was here…

…And nothing.

Swallowing the budding panic to the back of his throat, Harry strode forward.

He didn't like the feeling to be weaponless.

"Muramasa!" he called out again, his voice echoing through the space of whiteness.

He began to walk faster.

Something was wrong here,

"Harry, my boy."

An old voice called him, making Harry snap his head to the right.

"Dumbledore." He acknowledged the old man coldly.

The old wizard was clothed in all white robes, making for a strange sight, as Harry had gotten used to seeing him in his bizarrely-colored robes. The robes were almost as much a signature choice of wear of a Dumbledore as the Dumbledore was their signature choice of a wearer.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. He may be rude and to the point, but he didn't feel like losing his time with the old codger's backward turned replies. Not now.

"Waiting for the train." Dumbledore answered to him, a small, serene smile on his face.

Harry tilted his head. "You died." He observed.

"Ah yes, but a death is only the next great adventure." Dumbledore waved his hand whimsically, humming a small ditty under his breath.

"Don't I know it," Harry grumbled out, exasperated. "Hey. Why did you sacrifice your life?"

'For me?'

"Why shouldn't I?" Dumbledore retorted back calmly, those sky blue eyes looking into his green ones firmly. "And besides… why did you save me from Tom?"

"Because it pissed him off." Harry responded back swiftly.

The old wizard chuckled. "And there you have it."

Blinking, Harry had to replay their conversation in his head to make sure he heard right.

"You are surprisingly vindictive for a benevolent old man," he finally commented as he sat down on the bench. He felt for it, and it was unlike any kind of wood - if that was ever wood in the first place.

"We old codgers usually are." Dumbledore chuckled back, before sobering.

Harry watched the man stroke his beard thoughtfully and repressing the urge to bombard him with any more questions.

"You did an excellent job, Harry." Dumbledore finally spoke out, his eyes serious. "Better than I had ever hoped for you to do. I have made many foolish mistakes, and I know I don't deserve to be forgiven. And I don't expect you to forgive me."

"Damn right, old man." Harry muttered back.

"But if you would answer the old man a question…" Dumbledore hedged out, making Harry smirk inwardly at the man's insatiable curiosity.

"You just asked, but feel free to ask one more." He snarked back, leaning back, and feeling the strange white substance support his back.

"You are different. Why?"

Old green eyes looked at Dumbledore.

"Because Death is a great adventure." Harry chuckled deprecatingly. "We are born unto death and we are born unto life. It's just like a coin - there are two sides, and each is different than another.

Blue eyes widened. "Life in Death? How fascinating."

"And Death in Life." Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "So why are you still here?"

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly.

"Because, Harry, you have a decision to make. You can go either forward or back."

Immediately, Harry scowled. "Why should I?" He snapped as he stood up abruptly. "There's nothing back here for me to come back to."

"And your friends? The ones you've rescued?" Dumbledore prodded, as he tilted his head upward, the light making his wrinkles simultaneously deeper and lighter, making his face in the face of a stranger.

"It doesn't matter." Harry replied back snappishly. "They don't matter. I've done what I was born for, that's all to it."

Then why did Dumbledore look at him with such a disappointed expression on his face?

"Do you really think so?" the old man inquired.

"I tried hard. Merlin knows I did. And I got far, further than I ever imagined myself to." Harry's mirthless chuckle chilled the air around them. "At one point, I would've given my all for them. But not anymore. If I got killed for them, that doesn't automatically mean I am not obliged to live for them!"

"They made a mistake."

Dumbledore's attempt at placating the youth was met with the whirl of the said youth on him and a glare from those unique viridian eyes.

"Mistake, my ass. Well, let's say that I agree to going back, what awaits me? Meaningless accolades, platitudes and them begging for my forgiveness? Let them curse their own foolishness for prematurely and wrongfully judging me. I don't need to prove myself to you, you old man!"

"You are a coward." Dumbledore stood up, and glared at the youth. "Every word I heard from your mouth right now says that you don't want to go back because you are afraid of getting hurt."

"So what if I am a coward?" Harry growled.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, cowardice is living only half of life you could. Take it from this old man who knows it only too well - I could've done many things different, if only I weren't afraid of the consequences and hurts that I imagined them to wound me. I was afraid of Gellert's vision. I was afraid of Tom. And as much as it pains me to admit it… I was afraid of you. "

"What? Afraid of me?" Harry managed to get out, his eyes wide with astonishment. The old man nodded. "Why?" Harry pressed on, curious.

"Because all three of you - Gellert, Tom and you - had potential to be great. Terribly great or greatly terrible. " Dumbledure sighed a forlorn sigh. " And I saw only the second part…and forcibly closed his eyes before the first one. Gellert and I, we dreamed about the perfect utopia. And I stopped it. Tom was trying to make the world safer for both Muggles and Wizards… but I rejected him. You were framed and I failed to see that. "

Harry was silent. "If I return, they will be afraid of me." He finally spoke out, and edge of his lips lifting in a sardonic smirk. "It's only a matter of time."

Bushy white eyebrows lifted.

"Maybe it's so, maybe it isn't." The old wizard said serenely. "And besides, don't you have someone to find?"

Harry's eyes widened. "What - You know where he is, don't you?" He asked the old man, reaching to grab for his shoulders.

The Express whistled in the distance.

"For me to know and for you to find out." Dumbledore nodded, a mischievous sparkle appearing in his eyes.

Instantly, Harry's face soured. "Meddling old codger," he grumbled out half-heartedly, as he turned his head away as not to look at the man in the eyes.

Then, the Express came and Harry knew nothing.

Harry woke up sluggishly, his throat hurting and he was wishing for all he was worth to just drown back in that only too inviting blackness.

However, he was diverted from his goal by the warmth of a body beside him.

The body was obviously male, and taller than him, and Harry somehow found himself being snuggled in those deceptively slender arms.

He inhaled the smell of the disinfectants and something that was uniquely him.

Green eyes widened slightly as the wild brown hair tickled the nape of his neck.

"Muramasa."

The eyelids under the finely crafted dark brown eyebrows fluttered open, revealing well known and loved turquoise colored eyes.

And Harry's heart stuttered as those pale lips stretched into a relived little smile.

"Harry. You're back."

Wordlessly, Harry squeezed the former spirit's hand, letting out a raspy chuckle.

"As if I could leave you behind."

And the life began anew.

/The End/OWARI/