Disclaimer: Don't Own. Don't care. Writing this for free.

Summary: Escaping from Gringotts, on top of a severely hurt dragon, holding the sword of Godric Gryffindor and the cup of Helga Hufflepuff-turned-Horcrux was the craziest thing Harry ever did... until two minutes later he found himself being thrown by the gobbling wards into a world that was on the verge of being conquered by an army of ice zombies.

AN: In case anyone forgot about the events on book 7; Harry rescued not only Dobby, Luna and Olivander from Malfoy manor: he rescued Griphook. The golden trio got Bellatrix wand during that event, and well... let's say that I tried to keep this chapter as close as chapter 26 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows as I could. Which means, this has many things that come literal from there, but there are a lot of elements that I used to slowly build the transition from cannon to this AU.

You can read both and compare, but the two major changes are that Harry was the only one to go down with Griphook... and that he is going to end on the GoT universe.

Also, expect slow updates on this (as in the speed of a tortoise crawling backwards inside a tar pit), which will surprise none of my regular readers.

Chapter Updated on: 30-10-2016. Betaed by: ddzhalev

'Right,' said Harry. 'Well, I need some help, Griphook, and you can give it to me. The goblin made no sign of encouragement, but continued to frown at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him. 'I need to break into a Gringotts vault?'

Harry Potter to Griphook after the rescue in Malfoy Manor.

Chapter 1. Gringotts' Prisoners

Their plans were made, their preparations complete; in the smallest bedroom a single long, coarse black hair (plucked from the sweater Hermione had been wearing at Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix Lestrange got Crucio-happy with her) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.

"And you will be using her wand, Harry," Hermione said, handing Harry the walnut wand that put an end to his Godfather's life and turned Nerville's parents into vegetables. Harry restrained the brutal urge to snap the wand, then cut it in half with the sword of Gryffindor (carefully tucked into Hermione's bottomless bead bag, which was strapped to his calf) then destroy the remains of Bellatrix' wand with a well placed Incendio. "With the Polyjuice at work and carrying her wand, you should be able to convince the goblins that you are her... Harry, are you listening? You need the wand. You can burn it in a pyre when this is over if you want."

Harry would hold Hermione to that promise. As soon as they had the Cup of Hufflepuff he would make sure that that woman's wand would never destroy another life. Harry looked forlornly at Malfoy's old hawthorn wand, he never thought he would miss the darned thing.

The bedroom door opened and Griphook entered. Harry's hand unconsciously moved to his calf, right over where the Sword of Griffindor was hidden from sight, but he regretted the action as soon as the goblin gave him a calculating look. Griphook now knew where the sword was hidden. Seeking to gloss over the sticky moment Harry said "We have been just checking last-minute stuff, Griphook. We've told Bill and Fleur we're leaving tomorrow, and we've told them not to get up to see us off."

Hermione had been firm on this point. She didn't want them to see her glamouring herself and Ron, as not to get recognized while they traveled around Diagon Alley. There was also the issue of not bumping into Harry's invisible form, for he would be hidden under his cloak all the way to Gringotts' nearest dark alley so he could turn into Bellatrix. The plan from there was pretty straight-forward. Harry would go in by himself as Bellatirx with an invisible Griphook while Hermione and Ron would stay in the lobby of the bank and make sure to knock out as many goblins as possible if Harry got caught (since they had learnt from Bill that the goblins rarely strayed into the caves when the day was young and business plentiful, so they could stall them from there). Hermione and Ron would also make sure that no Death Eaters would ambush their friend... not while Harry was unaware at the very least; after all, Hermione still had a few of her enchanted galleons from the DA, and she would warn him if things went south.

Griphook went ahead first, as Goblins were neutral and thus didn't need to fear the horrors of Voldemort's forces (not yet anyway), then, half an hour later, the three wizards took their leave. The travel from Bill and Fleur's place, to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley went without any issues. Albeit, Harry had to admit that the wonder he usually felt when traveling the street that once welcomed him to the wizard world was gone. The place was not completely deserted, though no longer were people dressed in colorful robes, chatting idly and moving around happily. The look of the empty broom-shop window made Harry's heart pang especially painfully since his mind conjured the image of bubbly children gushing about the latest race broom in front of the broken glass of the half-burnt shop.

From the look of Ron's face, Harry could see that his best friend agreed with the sentiment, though it had nothing on the look of dismay on Hermione's face when they passed by the ruins of Flourish and Blotts. War had clearly taken it's toll on the heart of magical Britain. All the buildings apart from Gringotts, in its marble glory, had become mere shadows of what they were before Dumbledore's death.

Harry and company went into a dark alley only a block away from the bank and Harry downed the Polyjuice potion with a distinctive lack of gusto from underneath his cloak. The odd and somewhat painful process didn't get any better from the last time Harry drank the potion; fortunately, this time he was mentally prepared for the taste of rancid toilet, which made it possible for him not to hurl at his fiend's feet. "Urgh, at least it tastes better than Goyle." Harry's grimace was particularly bizarre coming from Bellatrix's floating face. Or, what looked like her floating head to the other two Gryffindors after Harry had removed the top part of his cloak. Ron made a face while Hermione took out Malfoy's old wand and pointed it at Harry. She looked sheepishly at him as soon as her mind caught up with her actions and offered him an apology to his (her?) face.

That done, his two friends stepped out of the alley, looking as casual as possible while Harry dressed in one of Fleur's cloaks/dresses that they had 'borrowed' for the occasion, and put his tattered blue jeans, too big shirt, shoes and his now unnecessary glasses into Hermione's bead bag, which the witch had insisted he carry.

"Remind me again how you convinced me to rob a bank in a dress?" Harry asked Hermione rhetorically. Ron snorted at the question.

Before Hermione could come up with a clever quip, Griphook peered into the alley with an impatient look. Not wasting any time, Harry covered the goblin with his father's old invisibility cloak, then started walking ahead doing his best arrogant madwoman impersonation. Hermione and Ron, on the other hand, followed at a safe distance looking as lifeless as the other wizards walking around the depressing street.

Much sooner than Harry would have liked they arrived the goblin bank. "Merlin help us all," Harry mumbled before taking a step to climb the marble stair leading to the bronze door next to which Gringotts' famous motto was engraved on a gold plate. Two human guards stood by the door in question where goblins usually stood, which made it possible for an alert Ron and Hermione to each cast a Confundo on a guard to stop them from reacting when the probes let the people on patrol know that someone had just tried to enter Gringotts under concealment.

As soon as that hurdle was over, Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Immediately after he regained control of his acting, he put his best sneer on his newly-acquired female face and, while he was sure he didn't look as mad as Lestrange did at the Department of Mysteries, he was convincing enough that the wizards lining up to make withdrawals moved away from Harry's path in a panicked rush. The goblin on Harry's chosen high stool, a very old goblin with 'Bogrod' written on his nameplate, peered down at Bellatrix' form from over his oval-shaped glasses and Harry felt cold sweat on the back of "his" long-haired neck.

"How might I help you, Mrs. Lestrange?" The goblin asked, not looking up from a gold coin he was inspecting with interest. Harry couldn't help but feel that something was off. Keeping a cool head, Harry demanded to be lead to the Black family vault. The goblin rose an eyebrow "You have... identification?". There was a moment in which Harry almost handed the goblin Bella's wand... until he came to the bright realization that Bellatrix would never obey the request of the being in front of him. The mere fact that he got asked for proof of who "she" was, couldn't mean anything good. Harry blanched and his eyes widened; thankfully, with Bellatrix unusually big eyes, Harry looked a lot more disturbing than afraid. Harry's worries were confirmed when Griphook, hidden under the invisible cloak, murmured "They suspect, they must have been warned that an impostor would be coming". A flinch came to Harry, but this was not an unusual action from Bellatrix whose body so frequently gave little flinches and spasms because of her long stay in Azkaban.

'In for a penny, in for a pound,' Harry thought before using that mocking sing-song voice that still haunted him in his sleep. "Seems like this foolish little beast is doubting little old me," Harry's neck tilted disturbingly, "should I prove I am who I say I am, hmm?"

The goblin, who had been dismissive so far, stiffened in fear. "Of course not, Madam Lestrange. I will be most... pleased to take you to your vault!"

"How disappointing," Harry said spooking even himself, "And I thought this was a chance to... get to know each other better?" The cooing baby voice that came out of Harry's throat was the stuff of nightmares, and he would be sure to ask Hermione to Obliviate the memory out of his skull.

The understandably intimidated goblin jumped to action, personally getting himself down from his stool and bowing before he motioned for Harry to follow him with one of his long, clawed fingers. Crisis averted for the time being, Harry stood a little bit straighter, feeling pride in his success... something that was very short-lived. The goblin called the cart with a whistle then, after getting into the cart, Harry's manners got the better of him when he thanked the goblin, effectively blowing his cover.

Without hesitation, Harry raised Bellatrix's wand and shot the goblin a well-aimed Imperio. The words felt foreign and the magic dirty, but at least the wand didn't oppose him upon the use of a familiar dark spell. The goblin's eyes grew foggy and Harry calmed somewhat. That had been a close call. Griphook removed the invisibility cloak (which Harry suspected had mopped the floor due the goblin's small size) now that the only witness was Imperiused. "Don't hesitate, we need Bogrod to control the cart; I no longer have the authority." Harry nodded, mentally apologizing to the goblin Bogrod; this needed to be done, HARRY needed to do this to put an end to Voldemort's reign of terror. Harry gave another nod, this one physical, towards Griphook who hid under the invisibility cloak again then the two of them got into the cart.

With a jerk, the cart moved off, gathering speed: they went from the relatively decorated entrance to the deep darkness of the mines then the cart began twisting and turning through the labyrinthine passages, sloping downwards all of the time. Harry could not hear anything over the rattling of the cart on the tracks, unfamiliar black curls flying behind him, tangling themselves into a frazzled mess as they swerved between stalactites, and Harry had the distinct impression that Bellatrix Crucio-ed the goblins every time she visited her vault because of how the trip made her already disastrous hair ten time worse. The cart continued going deeper and deeper into the earth and Harry couldn't help but glance back, wondering pessimistically if he would ever get out.

They were deeper than Harry had ever penetrated within Gringotts; they took a hairpin bend at speed and saw ahead of them, with seconds to spare, a waterfall pounding over the track. Harry heard Griphook shout "No!" but there was no breaking: they zoomed through it. Water filled Harry's eyes and mouth, he could not see or breathe and got the oddest feeling of his head getting lighter; then, with an awful lurch, the cart flipped over and they were all thrown out of it. Harry heard the cart smash against the passage wall and felt himself glide back towards the ground as though weightless, landing painlessly into the rocky passage floor.

When the shock over what just happened was over, he noticed he was having trouble seeing and wondered for one frightening moment if the guards had done something to his eyes. His hands moved to his face out of instinct and his palms pressed against familiar cheekbones and a bit of stubble. Suddenly, Harry remembered that time when his body reverted from being Gregory Goyle, his eyes worsening as the potion's time was over. Harry was now back to looking as himself and the dress he was wearing was stifling at the waist while there was a bagginess in the chest area.

"The thief's downfall!" said a half-visible Griphook, the invisibility cloak pooling at his feet as it dangled off the goblin's right shoulder. Clambering to his feet and, looking back at the deluge on to the tracks which Harry knew, now, had been more than water, the goblin elaborated on his previous exclamation, "It washes away all enchantments and magical concealments! They know there are impostors in Gringotts, they have a set off the defenses against us!"

Frustrated, Harry leaned downwards a bit, hand reaching towards the bead bag to retrieve his glasses, when he saw a blur of movement. Trusting his instincts, Harry let out a Petrificus Totalus, and saw the small figure stiffen and fall. That done, Harry took the bead bag from around his calf and Accio-ed his glasses. Now able to see, he realized that Bogrod was petrified on the floor. Which meant that the waterfall of not-water must have lifted the Imperius curse.

"We need him," said Griphook, "we cannot enter the vault without a Gringotts goblin. And we need the Clankers!" Harry used the Imperio for a second time, the wand eagerly channeling the dark magic once again. Soon enough, Harry and the two goblins were in the cart again; a minute later, they turned a corner and saw the thing which Harry had known helped defend Gringotts' vaults since he was 11 and Hagrid whispered to him about the beasts that lurked in the depths of the more secure vaults of the goblin bank.

The cart came to a halt. A gigantic dragon was tethered to the ground in front of them, barring access to four or five of the deepest vaults in the place. The beast's scales had turned pale and flaky during its long incarceration under the ground; it's eyes a milky pink, both rear legs bore heavy cuffs from which chains led to enormous pegs driven deep into the rocky floor. It's great, spiked wings, which would have filled the chamber if it spread them, folded close to its body. When it turned its ugly head towards them, it roared with a noise that made the rock tremble, opened its mouth and spat a jet of fire that sent them running back up the passageway.

"It is partially blind," panted Griphook, "but even more savage for that. However, we have means to control it. It has learned what to expect when the Clankers come. Give them to me." Harry followed Griphook's finger to a small bag tied to the cart, he handled it to the goblin, who pulled out a number of small metal instruments that, when shaken, made a loud, ringing noise, like miniature hammers on anvils. "It will expect pain when it hears the noise; it will retreat. As soon as it does, get Bogrod to put his hand on the door of the vault.

They advanced around the corner again, shaking the Clankers, and the noise echoed off the rocky walls, grossly magnified, so that the inside of Harry's skull seemed to vibrate with the din. The dragon let out another hoarse roar, then retreated. Harry could see it trembling. Harry had the desire to get out of the cart and try to assure the dragon that it was in no danger from them. He would be barmy if he did, though, but that thought didn't help when he saw the slashes across its face and the blood-tinted scales near them. The dragon was a victim, a prisoner who had been continuously abused for so long...

Hermione would have thought the treatment it had suffered barbaric, of that Harry had no doubt. He also had no doubt that, if Hermione decided to championship guardian dragons, Harry would be the first one to join despite the horrid acronym his beloved friend was sure to come up with.

"Make him press his hand to the door!" Griphook urged Harry, who had been too focused on the dragon to remember that time was of the essence. Harry made the goblin do as Griphook had asked and the door of the vault melted away to reveal a cave-like opening, crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor and the skins of strange creatures he couldn't recognize from outside the vault. The feeling of black magic and dread was wafting from the vault and Harry hesitated to get in right away. Maybe if he had been with Ron and Hermione down there he would have jumped in, but, as it was, he would have no one to watch his back in there. There was also the fact that the wand of Bellatrix felt wrong in his hand: he couldn't say if the wand would betray him if it sensed he was going to do something detrimental to its former mistress or something, so Harry wasn't eager to rely on it.

After a moment's deliberation during which Griphook continued to yell to him to "Get in! Search! Fast!", Harry lifted the hem of his dress (and how odd was it that he was doing a bank robbery in drag?), then opened the bead bag on his calf, retrieving Gryffindor's Sword from its endless depth.

It all spiraled downwards from there: before Harry could step in to search for the Horcrux, an unidentified object jumped towards Harry's hand. Seeker reflexes kicked in, and Harry spiraled out of the way of the incoming projectile as though it was a particularly vicious Bludger. "What?" Harry asked when he realized it had been Griphook who had hurled himself towards him. That moment of surprise was all the goblin needed to launch a second attack, magic propelling him from the ground and long, spidery fingers dug into the skin of Harry's sword-wielding hand. Harry yelped in pain and let go of the goblin-crafted weapon.

Several realizations hit Harry at the same time: Griphook had suggested he used Bellatrix' wand to be let in when Death Eaters had known it had been stolen; Griphook hadn't seemed surprised about the Thief's Downfall; Griphook had been so proud once upon a time when he was a worker of Gringotts that there was no way the goblin would help a wizard sully the place with the disgrace of a robbery. Bill's words from the day before echoed ominously in Harry's head 'All I am saying is to be very careful what you promise goblins, Harry. It would be less dangerous to break into Gringotts than to renege on a promise to a goblin.' And hadn't Harry been thinking on ways to keep the sword after this was over? Sure, Harry would have kept his word, but he wasn't happy with it, and maybe the goblin had sensed it... or maybe it was because so many wizards had broken promises to goblins.

One way or another, Harry was not going to give up here. The wizard launched himself towards the goblin in very much the same manner the long-fingered magical creature had; the difference of weight and height meant that Harry pretty much squashed the creature with his body. The goblin shrieked in outrage and Harry found himself hitting the wall. Wand-less magic, that's what the goblin had done. Then, much to Harry's horror, the goblin was swinging the sword towards his chest. Harry rolled on the floor, the sword clanked, bouncing off the floor harmlessly. The goblin let an expletive as the sword scraped his big nose, leaving it with a thin, bloody scar on the left side.

Harry got up from the ground when the goblin swung towards his chest again. Harry managed to dodge it, but he stepped on the hem of the now tattered dress he was wearing and fell to the ground. His glasses fell to the ground and he was struggling to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. A glowy something came towards Harry and he jumped out of the way of what he assumed to be a spell. Harry fell again, almost colliding with the vacant-eyed Bogord who stood stupidly waiting for his next order. The sword was swung towards Harry and he was unable to move in time... only, it hit his chest sideways doing no more damage than a clumsy punch to the lungs.

Sure he was about to die because of his bad sight, Harry wished for his glasses with so much strength that they almost poked his right eye out of its socket when they answered his calling. He put them on, seeing better with one working eye and glasses than he had with his two eyes bare. Truth be told, a follow up should have come long before Harry could call for his glasses: hell, the previous attack from the goblin should have been the end of it! But it wasn't Harry who met his end because of the ancient sword. Instead, the goblin Griphook now laid dead on the floor of Gringotts.

It took a minute for Harry to realize what had happened, the sword had been bathed with basilisk venom, thus becoming poisonous. Harry, on the other hand, had not gotten the blade to touch his blood. He had been very lucky, ridiculously so, and Harry would have felt bad about indirectly killing the goblin if not for the fact that the creature had tried to kill him, despite Harry saving his life not too long ago. Maybe, Harry reasoned, magic had made sure that the goblin could not harm the one he owed a life debt to... or Harry finally got the universe to grant him a moment of dumb luck. He was willing to wager on the first.

Harry would have to dwell on the matter at a later time, after the Horcrux was destroyed and he was no longer in the deepest bowels of Gringotts.

Harry moved to pick up the sword of Gryffindor from the lifeless fingers of the goblin that convince him to come here. Now warier of the species than he had been five minutes ago, he decided to take Bogrod with him into the vault, if only so the goblin would always be in his line of sight.

Harry had to look for a cup he had never seen before, inside a vault deeply underground that was filled with potentially cursed objects, all the while been accompanied by a goblin he himself had imperius-ed... Harry was wondering how many turns for the worse this could take when the door of the vault reappeared... of course, that was when the enchanted Galleon heated up to let him known he had been discovered. "Bloody fantastic," Harry grumbled, throwing his hands upwards. One of his hands hit a pile of objects that were badly illuminated by the torches inside the chamber; as soon as it did, he could feel a burn forming on his wrist. He turned to look, and noticed how one of the many cups in the vault (not the most flashy, but still an obviously old, jeweled one) was multiplying... and he had not seen which one was the first of the pile.

Now Harry had no idea what spell had made this happen, but he was pretty sure the original one must have been either the Horcrux he was looking for, or a cursed object that coincidentally had been a cup. One way or another, there was no harm in destroying it. Mind made up, Harry stabbed jeweled cup after jeweled cup, until the tell-tale black smoke of a Horcrux rose from one of them.

Riddle's diary, the Gaunt ring, Slytherin's locket, and now the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff: four Horcruxes down, two to go. Harry put the end of the sword on the floor, then deliberately stomped on the cup to free it from the sword. Thankfully it didn't multiply again (or burn his foot), and he breezily made his way to Bogrod whom Harry asked to make the door vanish again. It did as soon as the goblin put his hand on it, which was good; on the other hand, the enraged horde of goblins and half a dozen Death Eaters coming his way was not good at all.

Harry got out of the vault, sword in one hand, wand in the other. "Protego!" Harry yelled as the goblins started attacking him. The wand didn't channel the spell at all. Harry's dud of a spell would have been the end of him if not because the sword blocked a couple of nasty spells coming his way. More than a bit ticked and even more desperate, Harry called a Bombarda Maxima, which, thank God for small mercies, put a firm wall of crumbled stones between (and in some cases on top) of his oncoming enemies.

There was little time to think, a sure death ahead of him and a potential one in the darkness deeper down in the mines... he would have to take his chances.

So The-Boy-Who-Lived ran into the darkness where a thousand dark creatures and Merlin knows what else awaited to take a piece of him. In his mad rush, he bumped into the pale dragon that had been outside the Lestrange chamber. Absently, Harry couldn't help but notice that the chain was longer than he first thought it was. A fiery roar later reminded him that he shouldn't stay put looking stupidly at a dragon that could easily eat Hagrid as though the half-giant was a Bertie Bott's every flavor bean.

Still, for the life of him, Harry could not move. The dragon rose on its hackles and looked down at him with foggy grey eyes. "Erm, hi?" Harry greeted, feeling like a complete and utter moron. Really, 'hi?', who says 'hi' to a dragon. The dragon which had been barring its teeth towards Harry, didn't attack as Harry thought it would. Maybe because Harry was not a goblin, maybe because of another reason all together; he couldn't help but feel a bit emboldened by the way the dragon was looking his way: sure, the dragon looked ready to attack, but it had stopped growling as much and it had yet to attack.

Had Griphook been wrong to think this dragon wilder because it was kind of blind? Had he lied? At this point in time, the answers to those questions were irrelevant. The important bit was not the why, but the fact that the dragon was not attacking and whether if (and this was a really big if) Harry managed to free the dragon it would let Harry be there for the ride out... It was official, Harry had gone completely barmy.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you," He spoke calmly, putting the sword of Gryffindor in the floor; the dragon calmed a bit when the sharp and pointy object was out of Harry's hand, but continued to eye him regardless, "I'm trapped here too. So, how about we help each other a bit? I let you go, then we try to get out. I can cut that chain with a spell, probably, and then we could work together to get out?" Harry continued to move towards the dragon, trying to look as non-threatening as he could. When he got close enough to grab the chains, Harry shot a cutting curse at the metal. The metal remained the same and while Harry was unsure if it failed because the chains were goblin-made or because the wand was being rebellious, he knew that his best bet would be to go back, pick the sword up, and then cut the thing with the ancient weapon.

"Look, it didn't work. You probably don't want me to get close with a sword, not after the bloody goblins cut you up like that, but I promise I won't hurt you. See, I'm walking back very slowly, not moving fast at all, or trying to ambush you. I'm right where you can see me... or smell me, or whatever you are doing to know where I am. Now I have the sword. I will walk towards you a bit and then stop: it will be up to you to walk the rest of the way." Harry observed the dragon, the dragon looked at Harry. For a moment there was a connection between them, not one Harry understood, but one that was undeniably present. How long had it been since Harry blew up that wall? It couldn't have been more than three minutes; so why did it feel like he had been here for much longer?

Seconds felt like years as the incoming goblin horde's magic made sure that the rocks rapidly crumbled. There was something ancient taking place between them, wizard and dragon, powerful beings of magic that had been threatened by a common foe. Both fated to die without the other.

The dragon stepped forwards as the pile of rocks finally crumbled. Harry swung the sword and the chain broke. He jumped on the dragon, each hand grabbing to one of the flaky scales. They cut Harry's hand, making him bleed, hurting him as his body harmed the scarred body of the broken dragon. They both endured the pain, both inexplicably aware of the other's suffering. Another spell being shouted brought them back to reality.

The Dragon shot forwards, the goblins attacked, and (surprise, surprise) Bellatrix stood among the Death Eaters shooting all manners of dark spells towards him. It was a testament to Harry's bad luck that the crazy woman had decided to visit Gringotts today of all days.

Harry chanted and shielded himself as best as he could, but there was not much he could do for the dragon which was a target that was almost bigger than the place it was placed in. It trashed, its folded wings making the stalactites from the side rain over the cart Harry had used to travel to the Lestrange Vault. The vibration of the collision of its wings on the walls made the whole place tremble like an earthquake was taking place.

Everything from that point on was chaos; the spells rebounded from the walls harming the dragon and Harry's enemies alike. And for every spell that hit a wall that didn't crumble, lines of rainbow light stayed behind. Soon enough, it looked as though they were floating in what Harry could only describe as a pot of glowing letter soup. It was in the rocks, on the floor, on the ceiling, in the very dust that danced in the windless air.

Then, as the very air shook, Harry's fresh blood mixed with the dragon's when a bloody hand made contact with a reopened scar between the dragon's scales. Magic flared in the air. The very earth seemed alive and thrumming with a power Harry would bet was there long before the goblins made these caves their home. But there was something alien as well, something both mundane and profoundly otherworldly. It was like it should have been impossible for whatever was here to exist: like music without a melody, or a dance without movement.

There was a ceasefire. Something primal screamed at Harry to run, to get away from there. "We need to go!" He yelled to the dragon, the dragon moved forwards like it understood. Harry's pursuers also turned tail and tried to leave... tried being the operative word.

With no discernible trigger, the whole place lit up in a vortex of spiraling runes and magic that had been dormant for thousands of years. Harry felt himself overwhelmed by the whole thing, and there was only so much he could take before he was inevitably knocked out by the sensory overload.

...

Harry didn't know how long he was passed out. He didn't know if he was even awake. All he knew was that he was standing in Diagon Alley as it had been when he first entered the wizarding world: yet, it was not the same. The whole place looked snow-white, like all colors had bled from it, as though the place was timeless, with no life and no movement beside his own. It was surreal.

The oddest thing of all? Harry had yet to be attacked here. It was nice, he supposed, to be able to take another step and not have to worry about the consequences. He no longer had to worry about the war, or Voldemort; he could just stay there, as motionless as the leaves on the white trees. He didn't even have to breathe or think, just be. Be just Harry, be at peace...

No! Harry could not die yet! Why? He didn't remember, but he knew it was important. His friends? The wizarding world? No, it was something else. Something as grey and as tangible as threads of smoke.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

The prophesy! There had been a prophesy! He could not die yet, his fate was to live and fight, to triumph or die... And yet, he felt the words lose power by the second. There was something calling, something bigger than that which he had been destined to do. And he knew not if it was bad or good, but it reached to him and pulled.

At the mercy of a force Harry had no hope to comprehend, the threads of his destiny became undone, leaving his future as uncertain as that of every other mortal hurled into an unknown place with no hopes of ever going back home.

If Trelawney's prophesy ball had been whole, the silvery smoke within it would have turned black: the destiny of worlds had changed forever.

To Be Continued.

.

AN: So that's a wrap! I hope it satisfied the expectations of all the people who voted for this fic in the poll. Make sure to review :)