Disclaimer: I do not own anything from both Harry Potter and Avengers…

A/N: This is my first attempt to write a cross-over. Reviews keep me encouraged to write more. First part of it is a repost and it contains excerpts from the seventh book as well as the speech from the Doctor Who. I wanted to start over. No slash! Edited on 5-12-13.

The sounds of footsteps could be heard, from a far. The crunches of stones and sticks snapping under the weight of his, accompanied him. The numbness had lifted giving way to clarity and with it, came awareness. His existence weighed upon him, leaving him weak-kneed and light on his feet. The sounds comforted him almost whispering that, they were with him when his soul cried, mourning loss and destruction that the battle brought on his, one true home.

Hogwarts was in rubble. It wasn't a castle that stood tall and proud that had made him feel welcome and lively every year he'd return to her. Survivors gathered together. No one said anything, but the anguished hope in their eyes made him cringe. Weasley's mourned their dead brother, George. Fred was broken, just like him, in more ways than he could compare. Their tightness made him feel unwanted, unneeded. He felt like a true outsider at that moment.

Well, he had always been an outsider.

Everything was ruined, everything was to an end. He eyes searched desperately for company of his friends. He needed them now more than ever. In all his life, there was that silent need for a friend who would stay at his side no matter what. Friends who would say, 'It's okay' or 'shit happens' and he had found them. But he never truly revealed his most fear to anyone.

Being alone.

But it mattered it not. Mud squished beneath leaving imprint. It felt as if, earth marked his presence and noted his soon to be departure. The imprints would soon fade, either by rain or just new marks on the soil. He reasoned, to himself. Just like the rest of the people. World will move on and the hurt of the war, however strong was temporary.

His departure was…permanent. He was truly and utterly defeated. And as the darkness engulfed him, he marveled at this… strange feeling inside. Clarity and purpose. His life was truly at an end.

He was the last piece of the puzzle, the last Horcurx. And he had to die. Harry didn't know what would happen when the last Horcrux price would be destroyed. A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest and lifted the hair at Harry's brow.

It was for the 'Greater Good' after all. The next great adventure waited for him. He wondered for the first time in his life about various things, Dumbledore told him, subtly suggested him, reminded him time and again, the value of self-sacrifice. Just like his mother, he would now do it for his friends… in the name of love.

'You raised him like a pig for slaughter.' The truth so true and real.

Harry accepted his role, he was playing. Things were so much clearer in his mind, every action, every purpose Dumbledore did was to make him feel worthless. To make him value friends so high in his opinion that he would do anything and everything for them including dying for them. To make him a martyr.

He really hated that man.

Dumbledore was long gone. Remus was dead. Half the order was dead. Ministry was fallen. Such a large gamble played by Dumbledore on everyone's lives. He could only hope that the gamble would play out, that all was not lost, he hoped for the sake of everyone else.

He took out snitch once more and read the inscription at the middle of the ball.

'I open at the close'.

"I-" Harry's voice cracked. "I am ready to die." He said in a hushed whisper.

A chill of power radiated around him making him feel… full. Leaves rustled. Harry somehow felt that they were excited to witness something. The stone had Paverrel coat of arms on the black colored diamond and the contrast against his pale, white fingers was sharp.

The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.

He waited holding his breath for something extraordinary to happen. He really had little faith in this tale and it was no wonder to him when nothing happened.

'Master of Death, my arse.' Harry thought with a trace of sarcasm upon tons and tons of underlying grief.

With sagged shoulders, he made his way towards clearing. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock.

Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blonde Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated, and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.

Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have prayed, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, thought absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come."

Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. He hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and studded it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.

"I was, it seems . . . mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't." Harry said in a loud clear voice. His own voice felt so strange, so clear and yet so unemotional in the dead of silence. The death eaters did not move and each and every one of them waited in apprehension. What would occur next?

And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the splitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

"Nothing to say now?" Lord Voldemort asked.

There was absolute silence and the chill around the forest intensified from the Dementors. They formed a tight ring outside, leaving no escape route to him. Harry could hear his own ears ringing. The ring on his fingers vibrated and Harry could distinctly hear a soft roaring sound from everywhere and nowhere. And suddenly, Harry could feel a lone song of a child singing, cut through all the silence. It soon was accompanied by a huge chorus, invisible and yet composed of so many people, filling everywhere, layers heaved upon layers. He knew what they were doing here, why they had come. He just let this strange feeling creeping in him.

He wanted to tell them what he did for them. He wanted everyone to remembered what he was going to say

"Can you feel them?" Harry said, his voice surprising light. His eyes seem to have accepted the fate.

"Can you feel them?" He repeated in a slightly confident voice, "All these people who lived in terror of you and your judgment. All these people whose ancestors devoted themselves, sacrificed themselves… to fight against you. Can you feel them singing?" Harry's eyes closed in the rhythm, last part spoken only in a soft whisper. Harry instinctively knew that he was not alone and it gave him strange sense of comfort.

The song was beautiful as well as terrifying. He couldn't help but get lost in the tune.

"I have been in your mind. I KNOW you." Harry said, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.

Lord Voldemort smile slipped. His wrath burned through the brand he'd marked on Death Eaters.

"Oh, you like to think you're a God. Well, you're not a God — you're just a parasite! Eaten out with jealousy and envy, and longing for the lives of others. You FEED on them." Harry said pointing finger first at Voldemort and then at others surrounding him.

"On the memory of love, and loss, and birth, and death, and joy, and sorrow…so…SO…come on then, TAKE mine. Take. My. Life." Harry said looking directly at Voldemort. His eyes bared his soul, his hurt so much hurt and pain mixed with the weight of a lifetime.

"Because I have lived my entire life devised by mind of a MAD MAN! And I've watched his plans crumble and burn till nothing remained. NO ONE! JUST ME! I have seen things you WOULDN'T BELIEVE AND I HAVE LOST THINGS YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND." Harry's fists clenched, so tight that it drew blood. His face was now a pool of tears, sliding down effortlessly.

"SO COME ON THEN! TAKE IT! HAVE IT!" Harry raised his hands dramatically up to his shoulders, parallel to the ground.

In that moment, almost all the death eaters looked down on this one boy, who had been a constant thorn on Dark Lord's side. Who was the reason they had endured so many crucio's. They looked at him with regret. They had expected a fight. But the fight here was . . . Different.

It didn't bring joy or glory at what they did.

"Avada Kadavra." Voldemort shouted out. Every pore of his body was charged with the energy of the spell. The body fell down, lifeless, with a frozen smile on his face. He appeared content.

He stood up and looked around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist. . . .

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for— He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noise. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, studded out of sight, struggling for breath.

He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"You cannot help." He spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue.

"Harry," He spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. "You wonderful boy. You brave-"

"Albus Dumbledore!" Harry snarled. His emerald eyes showed undisguised fury. It was like viewing them as bright orbs of Green. Dumbledore's smile faltered. He took a step back. Harry took a step forward and just in a moment, he was standing right in front of the old wizard.

A quick punch to stomach and Dumbledore was bent over clutching his gut. A swift elbow to the side of the head saw him sprawled over the floor.

"Harry I… I…"

"You don't get to use MY NAME!" Harry roared, clutching his robes. He raised his neck above the ground and promptly smashed it to the white floor. A second later, he grabbed Dumbledore's neck and stood up, holding him at his eye level.

"TELL ME WHY YOU DID THAT AND I MIGHT NOT SNAP YOUR NECK!" Harry said in a steely voice. The first layer of manipulations had shattered and Harry saw the memories buried in his mind.

Dumbledore knew by now something had tossed his manipulations aside. Something had changed in Harry. He wasn't under his influence now. He was something else. And for the first time in his life, he decided to tell the truth.

"I was ordered to." Dumbledore choked out, his head still spinning.

"By whom?" Harry asked.

"I can't tell you that. I'm still working for him!" Dumbledore blurted out.

"Worry about me, Dumbledore. Just worry about me right now!" Harry said menacingly. A moment later, Dumbledore's hand was twisted and his elbow was snapped backwards. Dumbledore howled in pain and slumped on the floor, cradling his elbow.

He grabbed Dumbledore's elbow and pressed it, deliberately.


"Nicholas Flamel." Dumbledore said in a pained voice.

Nicholas Flammell? Harry whispered the name. He helped save his stone and he did…this? But why? What? How?

"He's Dead! You told me that!" Harry rounded up on Dumbledore. "Answer ME!"

"I lied…" Dumbledore said softly and chuckled a bit, in spite of himself. "He's always been around, just not…here."

"No…" Harry said softly. "You lie!" Harry said.

Dumbledore simply chuckled more. "I have lied to you your whole life, Harry. If it gives you any happiness-" Dumbledore practically spat the word out, "I am speaking truth now." Dumbledore moaned out in pain as pressure on his disjointed elbow increased.

"Ahhh!" Dumbledore gave out a whimper as Harry let go of the arm and stand in front of him.

"It's bigger than you." Dumbledore tired to sit and then stand up, "It's bigger than me! Don't you see, he told me you'd come for me! And I will have to tell you, the truth."

Harry paused. Dumbledore seemed to have lost it! Not that he had any marbles in his brain to begin with.

"And he did all this!" Harry said, waving his arm around. "Controlled and manipulated everything in my life?"

He now doubted if his friends were really his. Dumbledore looked like he'd been caught in the headlights.

"No…" Dumbledore mumbled. His eyes looked down but Harry wasn't fooled. He wasn't going to be guilt trip by this man.

"SPEAK UP!" He hissed, digging his fingers into Dumbledore's broken elbow. Dumbledore gave a primal groan on pain.

"NO." Dumbledore gasped, "He said. . ." Dumbledore looked right into Harry's eyes and went on, "He said you needed to feel the ultimate betrayal."

"No." Harry whispered. Something happened. Memories of past, buried came floating forth, shattering all the illusions in his mind. Killing curse was the best way to remove all blocks. No one knew that because no one had ever lived to tell the tale. The hold on Dumbledore faltered.

No. No. No. No. No. No! He grabbed his head, and the scenes started playing in his mind. Some of the things he had ignored, some he had 'Forgot' and some he hadn't questioned. The Dursleys, Weasleys, Ron? Fred, Hermione? No he couldn't. They wouldn't do that to him, would they? Not him. Never him! But his memories didn't lie. It was too much.

He shook his head furiously. Tears glistened on his cheeks; he felt heavy and collapsed on his knees.

"Was any of it real?" He asked, wishing in desperation for it to be anything else but.

"It was, in some part, yes." Dumbledore seemed to have recovered. His hands appeared to have healed. He towered over Harry. "They all were . . . are, still. It took some time before they became what they are. I had to work very hard for it." There was pride in his voice as well as guilt.

"Ronald molded in fourth year, following your selection in Tri-Wizard Tournament. Hermione in 5th. Ginny was perfect from the start even the Dursleys. Severus was the ever eager one. Molly was a sheer genius in shaping their boys. I applaud her even now…"

Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut. Rage and Betrayal battled in him questing for dominance. His mind was a mess. Clarity withered down, as if, a search light had suddenly dimmed.

"The Grangers… They never made it to Australia." Harry stated, wondering what else was untrue.

"No." Dumbledore added simply, "Severus had his loyalty questioned. I had to . . . ensure."

A bout of sick fury convulsed in him, making him tighten the grip on his hair and he let out a primal roar.

"I'll kill you for it." He shouted.

Dumbledore laughed outright. The laugh was different from Voldemort's. His laugh was of menace and fury. But Dumbledore's was of surety, and of victory.

It made him so much angry. A switch seemed to flip in his mind, and the whole focus in him was to annihilate Dumbledore. A raging fire, so intense, so hot sizzled in him. Magical aura begged to attack him, burn him alive. There wouldn't be any ash remained behind.

Harry Potter was in rage.

"I'm already dead." Dumbledore said, oblivious to the mounting rage in the boy. "How can you possibly harm me?"

Harry's eyes smoldered with power. Green glow burned brighter than it did ever before.

"I wouldn't be so sure." A cold smile curled his lips and the magic of his struck Dumbledore.

The Black fire seems to contrast the white surroundings. Dumbledore's body, or whatever Dumbledore was in this place, this moment, burned. Harry could hear the screams from Dumbledore's mouth which, a moment later silenced. Harry just gave out a maniac laugh as he watched, with tears in his eyes, the annihilation of Albus Dumbledore.

He just sat there, laughing senseless at everything around. Soon, his laughter died down and he began to sob.

Outside in the forest, Voldemort's curse had struck true. The green light, filled with Death Magic, connected with Harry Potter and Voldemort watched in satisfaction as the brat fall down.

He was surprised when, the jet of light, from the killing curse continued to remain, somehow connected to the body on the ground. Voldemort fueled the curse, thinking that he needed a bit more to kill the Potter brat.

But after 10 seconds of it, he began to sweat. He tried to lift the curse but he didn't know how! Seconds turned into full minutes and Voldemort was on his knees. His magical core was almost drained!

The death eaters around began feeling the awful stench of Death all around. It was a strange sight. The green light was tethered to the body on the ground. A moment later, Dark Lord was on his knees! What was happening?

Voldemort tapped into the magical core of his followers. He wasn't fazed, much. He had hundreds of them. He was sure it was a matter of time before the curse would complete. Around him, his followers started dropping!

Rowle was to go first, and then came Malfoy and then, the rest of the circle began dropping down like dried leaves! Some seem too scared to be here but before they decided to dis-apparate, they too dropped down.

Voldemort didn't know that maintaining a curse for that long took great amount of power. Further, keeping it for every second longer required magical power at an exponential rate.

"NO!" Voldemort shrilled. He dropped the wand, but for some inexplicable reason, the curse did not die.

"NO!" Voldemort shouted once more, backing away from wand while trying to flicking his hands trying to end the connection. It wasn't long before every death eater collapsed on the ground.

"Why won't you just DIE!?" Voldemort said, giving everything to the spell. A spell he had loved and used so many times. A spell now was refusing to die. The irony was lost on Voldemort.

He collapsed on the ground a moment later. The spell died a moment later when there was nothing left to fuel it. Voldemort and his Death eaters had no magic left in their core and were now, for all intent and purposes, squibs.

A moment later, Dementors glided over sucking out the souls from everything around.