01) of Harry Potter and the death gods.


Author Note: Review if you like and if you don't, well then I'll know.

Special to Animeloveramy for Beta'ing.

Good to know: I'm very sick, have been for the last 7 years. The doctors cant find a cure and I just get worse and worse over the years. But I'm on some new meds that are kinda working, so I'm finally fresh enough to at least write, once in a while. Yay! And because of that can/are the updates (be) very inconsistent, so there can be far between updates. I'm doing my best though. Also this is just a "taster", that will not be updated at all if you aren't interested in reading more, so let me know what you think.

Concerning my other Fanfic:

My hard disk died a little over 1/2 year ago. I had written a few chapter on all my stories, with a few missing things/text to make the story "Flow". Sucks big time. But what's worst is that I just can't seem to get myself together to write what I have already written once, again. Also it has been so long that I have forgotten most of the plots and my actual story lines.

Regarding my story text-message:

Some moron got it deleted, not that it actually "broke" any rules. Pisses me off. What of the part "Don't like? Don't read!" do some just not understand. Oh well. I'm not gonna upload it here again. Though I'm thinking of uploading it some place else, if any of you are interested in that.

Preview: In the final battle, instead of dying or coming back to finish off Voldemort, Harry ends up in another world. When he wakes up he is in the white sands of Hueco Mundo.

Warnings: Violence, Dead and Bad Language. !Dark!Harry.

Disclaimer: I either own Bleach or Harry Potter. I wish I did though.


01: Falling.

The wind around him picked up the fallen leaves, blew them high into the sky and took them for a dance in the frozen early summer air. Dancing just long enough for the leaves to sweep around him for then to once again fall to the forest ground. He looked like a brave warrior on a lone marsh to the final battlefield, and he supposed that in a way that was exactly what he was, if you forget the brave part. He didn't feel very brave, more like foolish or naive for thinking even for a second that he in any way was strong enough to defeat Voldemort. To even had let the thought form in his mind that he stood a chance or that he had any hope of saving his friends, school and lets not forget, the rest of the world.

But even if he felt like this, there were others that truly believed in him, and that was enough for him to stand here, walking toward his destiny. Because he was their last hope, so he did what he had to do. Even if it killed him. If he thought about it, that was in a way also a kind of braveness. Or maybe that just made him stupid, willing to throw his life away like that. He wasn't sure.

But all this didn't matter anymore. He had already said goodbye to all those he cared about, with a smile hiding how scared he really was. Nobody saw this though, not that he blamed them. They saw him as their solid rock, their savior. So if he was scared, where did that leave them? He knew that some had seen glints of his true emotions, but they had all turned blind eyes to him in those moments and convinced themselves that his fear wasn't there. And that was okay, cause he truly didn't want them to see behind his mask.

'Now is not the time to be scared, now is the time to fight.' He firmly told himself, or as much of a fight that would be, his mind couldn't help but remind him, together with the plan of 'the end of the Dark Lord'.

He would have to get Voldemort to cast the killing curse and Harry would have to let it hit him; he did have to die after all. Question was just if he would stay dead. He sure hoped that Dumbledore had been right. That the killing curse wouldn't kill him, only the piece of soul inside him. In other words, that the curse would only kill the horcrux. Well this was the time to find out. He guessed that this was what people called a 'it's all or nothing' situation. But even if he truly did die, that was okay too. There were others that could finish the job, after all. With Harry's dead there would be no more horcrux's, keeping Voldemort immortal. Everything was going to be okay, he was sure of it.

He was almost at his destination, causing him to slow down. Looking intensely at his surroundings, he submitted them to memory. Taking in all the beautiful colors of the tall trees, the green, moss-like grass at his feet and the crimson sky that was beginning to turn a tat purple as the day was coming to an end. He breathed in the fresh air deeply and a small peaceful smile settled on his face as he for the first time truly accepted his fate.

He slowly and carefully stepped out into the clearing, coming face to face with his greatest enemy. His jaw tightened as his lips pressed tightly together, resolved not to show too many emotions on his face.

"Voldemort," Harry stated, giving the snake featured man a glare; a glare that didn't really hold any anger, his wand already pointing at his nemesis.

"Potter, how good of you to finally join us. Walking straight to your death, how very Gryffindor of you," The Dark Lord sneered, his own wand held high.

The other Death Eaters stepped closer, wands ready to attack, only waiting for their Masters permission. Which they didn't get. The Dark Lord held one hand up in the air and commanded "No one touches Potter! He is mine!"

An ugly, lipless smirk spread on Voldemort's face as he shot the first curse at Harry. But it didn't hit him, only the golden shield Harry had cast, which shattered on impact.

"You'll have to do better then that, Tom."

It properly wasn't the smartest thing to say, taunting his insane and very deadly enemy. But hey can you blame a man? One way or another, this was the last chance he would ever get. But for some reason he didn't feel the usual hated toward the man who had made most of his live a living hell, or at the very least very difficult. Actually, the only emotions he felt toward the monster look-a-like in front of him was sadness, pity and acceptance that the man would never change. That he had to die and there was nothing Harry could chance about that, even of he had wanted to.

"You disappoint me, Tom."

"Why you little - Avada Kedavra!" it was screamed with both hatred and triumph. An odd mixture of emotions, Harry mused, as he spread his arms out into the air and with closed eyes; welcoming the bright green light as it stuck him, right in the centre of his chest and threw him backwards, making everything become quiet.

"-""-"

Green light...why was he thinking about that? Oh, the killing curse. He was dead then...strange, he didn't feel very dead. He felt more like he was being grilled alive. Or, if he was being a tad less melodramatic, then he felt like he was in a sauna with too many clothes on. And he felt kind of sore too. Defiantly not dead then. Dead people can't feel pain, right? Maybe Dumbledore's theories had worked...silent, everything was too silent. Where were Voldemort's or Bellatrix's annoying voices when you needed them?

He tried to listen to the world around him, hoping that he wouldn't hear anything. Anything at all. For some reason he could only hear the wind and feel the dry sand he was laying on. Sand? But he was in the dark forest. He slowly opened his eyes, ending up blinking repeatedly as he got blinded by the bright light from the sun above him.

Stiffly he sat up, silently cursing his sore body as he hurt all over with every movement he made. As he slowly got use to the light, he took in his surrounding with unhidden surprise. All around him was crystal white sand; it was all he could see, except for the light blue sky and the golden sun above. What the hell?! He was in a dessert! How had that happened..? But that did explain the heat. Fuck! How did he get back? And where was he?!

"Calm down, Potter," He muttered to himself. "Panicking is in no way gonna help."

Easy enough to say, a small pessimistic voice inside his head replied. He took a deep calming breath, as he ungracefully got up from the ground. Running a hand though his black curls, a nervous tick he had developed in some of his first years at Hogwarts, a habit he didn't seem to be able to get rid off.

He growled irritated at himself. He would be okay as long as he had his magic...he frowned for a moment before his eyes widened like teacups. His wand! Where was his wand?! He began looking fanatically around his person, feeling after it in all his pockets and searched on the ground below him, his fingers digging into the white sand, finding nothing. It was gone. He was so fucked! . . .


Author Note: Let me know what you think. :D