Prices

Chapter 1: Prologue

Plop...

Plop...

Cold water splashed against the rock floor, evidence to the gaping hole in the ceiling. Down the long corridor, a small rock was kicked, skittering through the dust, blood and soot that coated the entire castle and grounds. Scorch marks scarred the stone pillars, corridors, paintings and Hogwarts banners, fiendfire had burned its way through, changing Hogwarts far beyond what the strongest spells could repair.

The same halls that had once been filled to the brim with innocent, starry-eyed children who cared more about the next Quidditch match rather than how hard it was to stay alive in a darkened world.

It was disconcerning to see.

There was no light, no laughter and no hope. Feet raced through the castle, assisting the wounded and covering the dead as a final act of respect. Wails of grief filled the air as family and friends identified the fallen.

It was over, finally.

Voldemort was dead, killed by Harry Potter. A sense of relief hung over the castle and all those who took refuge within her crumbling walls.

Numb, it's numb.

His heart feels numb.

He no longer feels the cold drafts sweeping through the castle because of all the holes the giants had made in Voldemort's attack. He can't seem to feel the soft silty feel of the soot clinging to his hands and face. He can't feel the hot flames across his face as he watches the remaining members of the order fight the last blazes of fiendfire in the courtyard.

He felt...nothing.

He gripped the wand in his hand hard enough to watch his knuckles turn white, but he couldn't feel the slick wood underneath his skin. He still didn't feel anything when Hermione gathered him up in one of her bone crushing hugs.

Harry couldn't feel hot or cold, happy or sad, just...nothing.

It was with those same feelings he broke up with Ginny three months after the final battle. He felt nothing for her anymore. The stark truth was, nothing interested him anymore. Everything he ate was dull and tasteless. Ten years later he woke up one day to find he hadn't aged a single day.

His friends had all loved on, living their lives happily while he looked on, frozen in time. They continued on, tied to their lives, ambitions, and hobbies. Yet, he was drifting alone, untethered and unnoticed; doomed to watch the world roll on without him, never able to partake in it.

Harry had abandoned the Hallows ten years ago, but they kept returning to him. No sooner had he cast them aside, then he found they were waiting for him in his study at Grimmauld Place.

A leather-bound book rested on his desk. It wasn't very large or noticeable significant on the outside, but to Harry is was priceless.

The small book was his one shot at peace. He was sick of it all, surviving, watching, but never living. The Hallows were gift's, they were a curse of the worst kind.

Harry Potter steeled himself, squared his shoulders, and flipped the book open.

A heartbeat passed.

He started to chant.

oooOOooo

Heimdall the Allseer stood over the Bifrost watching over the cosmos. Within his gaze, planets grew, waned and were reborn. Mist gathered at the corners of his eyes. The air charged with pure power, racing and zipping in Heimdall's sight.

Never before in all his 3000 years had he ever seen something like this. Someone was coming, as powerful as the cosmos herself. A raven's caw drew Heimdall's attention back inside the Bifrost. Huginn stared at him in anticipation.

"Return to the palace, the All-Father must be warned a being of great power is coming to Asgard. I shall endeavor to greet this being personally, but for the good of Asgard, the King must know." Heimdall told the raven, barely noticing when Huginn flew off to carry his message.

The Asgardian wrenched his sword from the grasp of the Bifrost and stepped forward, holding it aloft. A brilliant light enveloped the observatory.

They had arrived.