A/N: All right, folks. Here's another deleted scene from the God of Death. In this scene, Harry is interrogated by Damian Lynch in a rather brutal and unorthodox manner. I cut this scene from the beginning of the Epilogue of Part One because I felt that it was out of place and took away from the overall quality of the chapter. It just seemed a bit too much for the final chapter so, I took it out. But, here it is for any of you that want to read it. There's more explanation and background about the scene at the end. Enjoy!

Into the Mind: A Tale from The God of Death

Harry opened his eyes and groaned. His head was pounding and the overly bright white light hanging from the low ceiling in the otherwise pitch black room wasn't doing much to relieve that pain.

Blinking rapidly against the harshness of the light, he tried to make out any of his surroundings. Had the light not been there, his enhanced vision might have been of some use here, but as it was, the light effectively blinded him.

He tried to reach up to rub his tense and aching temples but found that his hands were securely bound behind his back and to the metal chair that he was seated in. What was more, he was still wearing those damned magic-suppressing shackles that Robards had dutifully slapped on him outside Malfoy Manor. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up here; that and seeing that rat bastard Wormtail slink away after having spent the entire fight noticeably absent. He had probably spent the whole time hiding somewhere in his animagus form like the coward that he was.

He ground his teeth in hatred for the traitorous rodent of a man.

Then, he heard voices. He craned his head in the direction of the sounds, behind him, but he could see nothing. They were getting louder until he could swear that they were right there. He couldn't understand what was being said as it was like he was on the outside of a low-key privacy charm that muffled the voices of the speakers and made their words indiscernible.

Who was it?

He was saved from having to ponder this too long by the sound of a door opening and a fresh beam of light spilled into the room, washing over him and illuminating a second chair on the other side of the hanging light.

The door closed a moment later and the sound of boot heels thumping against the stone floor reverberated around them.

Harry looked up as the new arrival came to a stop next to him.

He immediately recognized the face of Damian Lynch, resident interrogation specialist of the Anti-Death Eater Task Force and elder of the two Irish brothers on the team.

"We meet again, Mr. Potter," Lynch said, looking down at him with those icy blue eyes that seemed to see right into his soul. "Comfortable?"

Harry sneered. "Other than these horrid cuffs, I'm just peachy. Mind helping a bloke out?"

Lynch smirked at him and walked around to the second chair. "You know, Mr. Potter, I admire your spirit." He picked up the chair by the back and carried it forward, placing it down a mere foot away from Harry's own. "I regret that there won't be much of that left when we are through here."

He sat down in the chair and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He was dressed in a simple outfit of black trousers, white button-down and black waistcoat, complete with a pair of black boots and full-finger gloves. It almost mirrored Harry's own outfit, save that his shirt was black rather than white.

"I just got finished speaking with your friend, Barty," Lynch continued after a moment of silence. "He revealed a great many things to me about what you both had done over the years. Not that it was by his own will, of course, but that is beside the point here." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked Harry in the eyes. "You two have done some very terrible things, Mr. Potter. We have enough on both of you just from his memories alone to put you both away forever. However, for the sake of being thorough, Sasha has requested that I delve into you as well."

Harry raised a brow. "Delve into me?" he asked. "Sounds dirty."

Lynch was not amused. "We'll see how flippant you are when we are done, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged. "You think you can read my mind, Damian? You forget who trained me in the art of Occlumency. Barty, Severus Snape, Voldemort himself. Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age couldn't break into my mind. What chance do you think you have?"

Lynch smiled. "Oh, I think you'll find my methods to be quite...effective." He locked those pale blue eyes on Harry's own emerald ones and Harry suddenly felt himself being pulled in. It was similar to how he had felt when Luna read his mind, but much more forceful, almost violent. He resisted as best as he could but quickly realized that it was a losing battle.

He focused on his defenses, trying to confuse his thoughts so that Lynch would not be able to focus on any one memory.

Too late, he realized that this was what Lynch had wanted him to do. He had planted the idea into his head. Now all of his memories were laid out before the other man like a map of his mind and life.

In his mindscape, Harry found himself standing beside a projection of Lynch. The projection turned to him with a smug look on his face. "Where shall we begin?" he asked. He turned his head back to the swirling vortex that was Harry's memories. "At the beginning, I think."

Suddenly, the world around them shifted as one memory was brought to the forefront. Harry knew where he was instantly. Godric's Hollow, Hallowe'en, 1981.

He and Lynch watched as a hooded figure appeared in the street outside the house and made his way up to the front door, blasting it off of its hinges.

"No sense of subtlety, that one," Lynch observed.

They watched as the fight between Harry's parents and Voldemort ensued, saw his parents flee, James forcefully side-along apparating Lily away with him, despite her cries that they had to go back for Harry.

"Not your father's finest moment, is it?" Lynch asked, looking over at him as the scene shifted to the inside of the house where Voldemort was now picking up baby Harry into his arms with a sadistic smile on his face. "Not yours either. It was all downhill from here."

They left the memory and soon found themselves looking at Barty, noticeably younger, maybe nineteen or so, cradling the infant Harry in his arms, holding a bottle of milk to his lips. He had requested soft food for the child, but the Dark Lord had refused. He wanted the boy alive, but he wanted him weak. They heard Barty whisper to the child that he wouldn't let anything happen to him. That he would take care of him.

"How touching," Lynch mocked coldly. Harry was struck by the difference in the slightly serious but still amiable man that he had met at the Department Christmas Party. This Damian Lynch was cold and ruthless. Harry guessed with his profession, he had to be. It reminded him of Charlie.

Harry took in the scene that he was too young to consciously remember and felt a stirring of affection for the man that had become his brother in all but blood. It was a side of Barty that he had never seen before.

The scene shifted and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of a child screaming. Harry had heard those screams before in his dreams. They were his own. Lynch watched with empty eyes as Voldemort stood over Harry, who had to be no more than three years old at this point and tortured him with the Cruciatus.

"I suppose when one suffers so, they'll do anything to make the pain stop," Lynch muttered ponderously. "Even sell their soul to the dark." His voice was hard again.

They watched as after the torture session was done, Voldemort left and Barty came in with a younger Regulus Black. The two set about taking care of the poor child as best as they could. Neither were healers and knew very few spells or charms that would help. They settled for giving him a Dreamless Sleep potion and letting him recover through rest. They heard the two of them converse quietly about their growing discontent with the Dark Lord and their fears that he would go too far and kill the boy if something wasn't done.

The scene shifted again and Harry was being led into the throne room where everyone was waiting. They had just put the mental block on his memories so that he would not remember the years of torture he had gone through. He had been cleaned up and dressed in new, soft clothes.

They watched as he killed Walburga Black and became Lord of House Black, and earned the Dark Mark.

"One," was all Lynch said. He turned to look at Harry. "Let's make this a bit more interesting shall we?" He struck Harry across the face, staggering him, even in this mental world. Then, he gave Harry a hard push in the chest and Harry felt himself falling down into a free fall.

He landed hard on the floor of the Throne Room as a row of recruits were marched in for the Dark Lord to appraise.

He watched as Podmore attempted to kill Voldemort but young Harry stopped him, only to get hit in return. Then, young Harry killed the man and took that silver watch of his for his own.

"Two," he heard Lynch's voice echo around him, seeming to come from all directions at once.

The people all faded and a door opened to Harry's right. He looked into and saw nothing but white light. It immediately made him think of the room his physical body was sitting in and he walked toward it, slowing and hesitating as he thought that it wouldn't be that easy. Somehow, Lynch had take control of his mind and memories and now Harry was no more than a spectator to his own history.

He growled and stepped through the door, knowing that there was nothing he could do but go along with what Lynch had laid out for him.

He found himself in a field near the Weasley home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Had it been daytime he knew that he would be able to see the Burrow and Rook in the distance. As it was he was looking at a smaller house where two men were currently trying to get out. However, the magic Harry and Barty had set up was preventing them from doing so. He watched as his younger self raised his wand and set the house ablaze and looked on as the men were burned alive in their own home. These were the Prewetts, Fabian and Gideon, the elder brothers of Molly Weasley. They had been back home to sort it out following the death of their father, who had left it to Gideon, the elder brother. Molly had already gone back to the Burrow for the night and the two men were all alone; a perfect target to instill fear in the Order. Barty cast the Dark Mark into the sky and the two hooded figures vanished on the spot.

"Three and four," Damian noted, his voice sounding from the darkened sky above.

Suddenly another door appeared and Harry sighed, marching through it.

He was outside Grimmauld Place, standing in the shadows across the street beneath the branches of a low-hanging tree. He watched as a young woman stepped out of the house, her blonde hair swaying slightly in the wind. Sirius was right behind her, begging her to come back inside and stay the night. She laughed and said that she couldn't as she had to work early in the morning. Sirius pouted and the two shared a kiss before she set off away from the wards of the house.

Harry moved out of the shadows and a bolt of green struck her down where she stood. He walked over to the fallen woman and looked down at her pretty features. Hestia Jones was dead. He raised his wand again and incanted "Morsmordre!"

The street filled with green light and Harry drifted back into the shadows as Sirius came running back out of the house, frantically looking around for whoever had cast it. He caught sight of the form of his lover laying in the street and ran to her side, shaking her desperately and calling her name, his voice breaking. Satisfied with his work, young Harry left the scene.

Harry himself looked on now at the broken form that was Sirius Black. He didn't feel the stir of sympathy that he thought he might. No, he hated Sirius too much to feel sorry for the man. He didn't regret killing Hestia. Her death had served a purpose then and it would be an insult to her memory to think less of it now. But, he did recall Sirius once saying over the holidays while drinking with Remus that he still missed Hestia and that she had been the only woman he had ever truly loved.

He hesitated when the next door appeared in the street next to him following the word "Five," being spoken by Lynch. His hesitation must have been noted because he felt himself lifted off the ground and literally thrown through the door by some invisible force.

More deaths passed before his eyes, each one at his hand and each time, Damian Lynch counted it out like a tally mark on a chart. Battles, assassinations, so much violence and death, and through it all Harry watched, feeling nothing at all.

Finally, they arrived at the Longbottoms. He saw himself and Barty torture the two Aurors while their helpless son watched. Then the fool Mundungus had ran out and tried to fight them, but Harry cut him down without remorse. "Eleven."

Harry didn't have a choice when it came to entering the next memory as instead of a doorway, Damian opened the ground beneath him and he literally fell into the middle of the closed ward at St. Mungos.

His mercy killing of the Longbottoms played out before his eyes.

"Twelve and Thirteen. You know, they were defenseless. Pretty much dead already. It was almost a kindness. But to make their son watch as he lost his parents again, that was cruel." Damian sighed. "You truly are a monster. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Harry almost screamed as a hand, much larger than what was natural, reached out of a new portal above him and dragged him through by his head. He was thrown and landed hard on the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts.

He watched as he held Dumbledore at wandpoint and as the Killing Curse was cast, he suddenly found himself seeing it from Dumbledore's perspective. He felt the spell hit him and a burning sensation cut through his chest. Then, he was in free fall again and he spun head over heel through the air, only to slow dramatically before hitting the ground, still hard enough to hurt. Then, in a blink of an eye he was back on the Tower as the sound of breaking Butterbeer bottles split the silence. "Fourteen."

He watch in slow motion as Bella killed Jimmy. Grief and rage filled him again as he watched his little brother fall dead to the floor, that betrayed expression forever frozen on his young, innocent face. Harry dropped to his knees along with his past self and he felt the hot tears roll down his face. Even now, so long after the fact, the loss of his beloved brother was like a fresh open wound in his soul.

"Fifteen," Damian intoned harshly.

Harry shook his head. "No...I didn't kill him...I didn't..."

Damian suddenly appeared standing next to him. "You did. Your path led to this. You are as much to blame as LeStrange is. You could have stopped this. You could have saved him, but you didn't. Had you not told him that you were leaving to hunt the Horcruxes with Albus, he would not have come out of his dormitory to see you. You killed him by being what you are."

Harry shook his head, not even bothering to wonder how Damian knew about the Horcruxes. He had access to all of his memories, how could he not know about them. "You're wrong," he said desperately. "I loved him...he was my brother...I didn't..."

"You did," Damian countered without looking at him. Then, he did. Those icy blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark setting. Neither of them were watching the memory as past-Harry chased after Draco. "But this night isn't over yet. You'll take three more lives this night." He grabbed Harry by the hair and began to drag him toward another doorway and Harry found himself helpless against him. He looked back at the body of his brother laying alone on the floor amidst a pool of amber Butterbeer. Then they were in the hallway and Harry cut down Gibbon and Selwyn. "Fifteen, sixteen." Damian dragged him along by his hair until they came to the entrance hall. Harry found himself being thrown down the stairs to land in a heap at the bottom, groaning as his mind made the pain real.

He looked back up at Damian, who stood at the top of the stairs as past Harry descended them. Bella came bouncing out of the Great Hall like some demented bunny and caught sight of his past self. The two dueled and soon Harry watched himself stomp Bellatrix's ribcage in and she died choking on her own blood.

"Seventeen," Damian spoke from his perch above him. He waved his hand at Harry and Harry was thrown backwards through another doorway.

He tumbled backward upon hitting the ground and finally rolled to a stop against a brick wall. He was outside the Wyvern in Knockturn Alley and his past self was busy cutting down Avery, MacNair, Nott and Shunpike. He watched as he crushed Shunpike's neck with that awesome and terrible metal arm that Hermione had given him only moments before. Looking back on it now – literally – Harry doubted that this was the way Hermione had intended for him to use her gift and he felt a bit guilty that she had to witness it. She must have felt terrible that she had played an unwitting hand in these men's deaths.

"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty and twenty-one. Not counting all those that I didn't count from all of those skirmishes."

"You've made your point," Harry bit out, looking at the horror-stricken face of past Hermione as she looked at what Harry had done. Truth be told, this was just the straw that broke the Thestral's back; he had already witnessed how his actions had gotten his brother killed. He didn't need any more reminder that he was indeed a monster.

"I'm not making a point, Mr. Potter," Damian spoke from the sky. "I'm collecting evidence, and we still have quite a way to go before this is over..."


Damian stood up from his chair and looked down at the faraway look in the eyes of Harry Potter, lowering the wand from the side of the younger man's head, taking with it a long trail of stringy silver memory. Their session was through and he had more than enough evidence to have the boy thrown through the Veil. He knew that they wouldn't do that, they wanted to make an example of him.

Finally, the eyes came back into focus and Harry lifted his head. Emerald met icy blue and Damian was surprised to see a spark there. He had seen it in Crouch Jr. as well. These boys were strong. Stronger than the others he had delved into. Those he had broken, at least temporarily. They couldn't stand trial if they were literally dead on their feet.

"You've got spirit, kid, I'll give you that," he said to Harry. "It's a pity you chose the wrong side." With that, he conjured a phial and dropped the memories into it, sealing it with a cork. That done, he strode to the door, opening it.

"I didn't choose the wrong side, Lynch. You all did that when you betrayed me."

Damian looked back at the hunched over form of Harry Potter. He knew of what the boy spoke. They had told everyone that he killed Jimmy Potter and branded him as a wanted man. That had been James' idea. He didn't agree with it, but it was done.

He said nothing in response and left the room. He had to report to Savage and present his findings.

As it turned out, Savage was just outside the door, waiting for him.

"Did you get it?" Sasha Savage asked as the two men walked down the hall.

Damian handed over the phial, which Savage took and stuffed into his pocket. "It's all there. All the way up to yesterday."

Savage nodded. "This will be more than enough to put him away. What was the final count?"

"Thirty-two," Damian answered. "At least the one's we can use. Others, like his brother, we can't use. But we already knew that. By the time we get to that particular memory, I don't they'll even want to see it. So, you can still spin it that way if you really wanted." His voice betrayed that he didn't really agree with the idea.

Savage shrugged noncommittally. "We'll see."


A/N: Well, that's that. Another deleted scene for you. Hope you enjoyed it.

For an explanation: In an early story of mine called "The Boy Who Destroyed the World" I created the character of Damian Lynch as an Ex-Auror turned hitman. He had a special skill, sort of like the Tsukuyomi used by Itachi Uchiha in Naruto – I actually specifically used this as a basis for the power. He would enter his target's mind and torture them inside their own minds to the point of killing them mentally. He never actually killed the body, just the mind and left his targets as a hollow shell, sort of like what happened to the Longbottoms in The God of Death's main story. For this scene, I had opted to combine the original idea with how Luna can effortlessly enter Harry's mind, despite his defenses. Only, Damian uses Harry's defenses against him.

I took the idea of the going from memory to memory from the game Saint's Row IV and from the film Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey. The method of travel between memories was taken from Saint's Row, inspired by the glowing doorways that are used to go between the real world and the digital world. The idea of opening doors and seeing past events was taken from Bill and Ted, when they went to Hell. There was also some inspiration from the Scarecrow sequences in the Batman Arkham games; given that Cillian Murphy (my image of Damian) played the Scarecrow in the Nolan Batman films, I kind of liked portraying him in that sort of manner; he's practically a god inside the mind and plays on Harry's fears and regrets. If this is well received, I may add more of that side of him in Part Two.

Overall, I like the scene but it felt over-long and out of place. Kind of like a "Jump the Shark" moment for me; a little too gimmicky. Just too much and it took away from the overall quality of the final chapter. But, as with 'God on God', I like the scene enough to preserve it as a little one-shot/deleted scene for you all to take a gander at.

Let me know what you think.