The last bar after the end of the world

Ah, it burns! It's horrible damn it!

Ah, it's you again. What can I get you? Spoke a deep voice to which Harry paid no attention, so disoriented was he.

The moment before, he was screaming in pain in the blaze he had started himself (how could Lupin have thought he was smart enough to get into Slytherin) and just after, he felt perfectly fine.

Better than good. In fact, he had never felt so good in his life. All pain had vanished from his body. It was a bit like being in a nice hot bath, but without the sensation of heat. He then suddenly realized that he was completely naked and hastily placed his hands in front of his groin. Then he looked around to find something to cover himself and immediately let out a cry of horror before falling backward. Or rather turning over into a lying position given the absence of a floor. He was standing in the middle of an infinite void. All around him was filled with darkness. But not the oppressive darkness one faces at night. It was more like his environment was made of one of those black backgrounds sometimes used as a backdrop in certain levels of Mario Bros. It's not that he couldn't see anything. On the contrary, he felt as if he could see as if it were broad daylight. It's just that there was nothing to see.

Forgetting all modesty, he frantically tried to use his hands to get up or grab onto something. But he found only emptiness. Certainly, hedid not have the impression of falling, but this strangeness only added to his panic. He was fed up with the wizards' oddities. He just wanted to return to his father and adoptive mother and live a normal life far from all these sadists and their magic that brings only death and desolation.

If you don't order, I will have to ask you to leave. Declared with slowness the deepest voice he had ever heard.

Harry turned around hastily (that's what he wanted to do and without understanding how, his body seemed to obey), then gasped in terror. Behind an antique wooden bar, dotted with wear marks from time, a skeleton with a bow tie and a top hat was calmly wiping a glass with an old tattered cloth.

I, I, you, you. Stammered Harry

What is it? Is it the top hat that's not right? I thought it was too dressy. He said before making it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

Uh, do you have clothes? Harry finally said, trying once again to hide what he could with his hands.

Yes, of course. This is a reputable establishment here. He said, pointing to his bow tie.

No, but yes, I mean: could you give me some clothes?

Have you already forgotten? Humans definitely have a memory like a goldfish. You are the only one who can change the perception you have of yourself.

What!?

He sighed and explained slowly, emphasizing each syllable (as if he were trying to explain to a young child how to tie their shoes):

Close your eyes and imagine that you have clothes on.

Having no better ideas (and nothing better to do), Harry obeyed. Upon reopening his eyes, he noticed he was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and his old sneakers.

It's better, thank you. Where are we? asked Harry.

I don't know. Probably nowhere. Replied the skeleton.

How did I get here?

If you insist on having a conversation, you'll have to order something. I'm glad you brought me another customer, but that's no reason to consume for free.

Another customer?

It's true that I might have gotten carried away too quickly. He doesn't seem to be old enough to drink, continued the strange bartender.

Harry observed his surroundings more closely and noticed in the distance a sort of hideous baby. It was the most vile thing he had ever seen. Fascinated, he moved in its direction. Or rather, he thought about moving and mysteriously, he felt as if he was getting closer. But he had to stop halfway. The aura emanating from the creature quickly made him nauseous. He hurriedly moved away with an intimate conviction. He knew this thing.

The last few months came back to him like a flash. He was a prisoner in the dark. Not like here. There, it was real darkness, thick as Scottish fog (why hadn't he built Hogwarts in the south instead). He saw his body move in his place and commit atrocities that would give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

However, the worst part was the intense hatred he felt constantly. He didn't know it was possible to hate to the point of feeling pain. But that's what heHe constantly felt it for everyone. He desired only one thing: to harm them. At times, he recognized a familiar face and the pain disappeared for a few seconds. Nevertheless, very quickly, he felt an intense fatigue and then sank back into darkness.

Until the day when the hatred tried to turn towards his mother. He could not hate her. But he was so weak and confused. Then he remembered that Dumbledore had told him that it could only be destroyed by basilisk venom or Fiendfyre. He no longer remembered what that thing was that Dumbledore was talking about at that moment. In fact, he was no longer sure who Dumbledore was or even who he himself was. However, one certainty remained: he had to destroy that thing. It was the only way for the nightmares to stop and for him to finally sleep in peace.

He began the incantation. No one had ever taught him this spell, but in his bad dreams, he cast it so often that he was sure to succeed. Without really being sure of the reason, he apologized. After all he remembered was intense pain. But insignificant compared to that of the last few months.

Then he had forgotten, until he felt what emanated from this monstrous baby. He didn't know why, but he was sure she belonged to the thing that had possessed him during the last months. Now he knew that the memory of the diary had told him the truth: Tom Riddle no longer existed. It had been a long time since Voldemort had anything human left.

So what can I get you? Asked the skeleton again.

Well then. A Firewhisky if you have one.

As usual then.

The skeleton stopped rubbing the glass and took out from under his bar a dust-covered bottle containing a nauseating blackish liquid that the skeleton poured into a half-chipped wooden glass. When the creature handed it to him, Harry almost dropped it. The glass was icy. However, he held back just in time.

Harry had never touched alcohol and had no idea what firewhisky looked like. He just knew it was the drink his adoptive father took when he had a problem at the factory. However, he was sure it didn't look like that. Nevertheless, he pinched his nose and decided to take a sip. After all, he was already dead (now he remembered) and he would never find a better occasion than his own death to drink. Harry thought that in a way, it made perfect sense to find a bar in the afterlife and wondered why no religion had thought of it before.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to swallow the vile liquid before immediately spitting it all out onto the skeleton, which had preemptively opened an umbrella.

As usual, I must remind you that being my only regular client does not give you the right to so neglect the basic rules of etiquette. Said the skeleton while putting away the umbrella.

This thing was completely rotten, thought Harry. He felt like he had swallowed a corpse. Between two coughs, Harry asked:

Regular?

Yes. It surprised me too the first time. Usually, people don't come back. Yet, I make a lot of effort with my attire. He said, tightening his knotted bow tie of which he seemed very proud.

I have no memory of ever coming here.

As usual. Maybe that's why no one comes back. Humans have too poor a memory to remember the place. I should make business cards. The skeleton thought out loud.

I'm not sure that's the crux of the problem. And usually, where do they go afterwards?

I don't know. They just disappear when they're ready. You, on the other hand, use the three relics you generously offered to that charming creature to return to the other side of the veil.

Harry forced himself to look at the horrible baby and managed to distinguish that it was holding a wand in its deformed fingers. Looking more closely, he saw that it was wrapped in his invisibility cloak. But most importantly, one of its fingers was adorned with the ring he had sought with Dumbledore on that fateful day.

He then had confirmation that his nightmares were real. He had been possessed by Voldemort and forced to commit atrocities. It was no longer an option for him to return to live with the Dursleys and take over from Vernon at the drill factory, as it probably no longer existed. There was also the fact that he was dead, but if the skeleton was real, it was not an insurmountable obstacle.

He then thought back to his last memory before his death: Petunia Dursley, his adoptive mother, giving him a look filled with love. How, despite everything, could she have addressed him with anything other than hatred? He hated himself now that he remembered everything. It was entirely his fault. He knew that magic was bad. Even though they never dared to address the issue directly for fear of offending the Dursleys, he knew perfectly well what they thought of magic and wizards (like him, his traitorous brain added). But precisely, despite his flaw, he loved her.

For a brief moment, he had thought that his parents were wrong and that magic was wonderful. He even started to think that he could no longer live denying his powers. Even though he continued to love them, he had begun to develop a bit of resentment towards their intolerance. Then Voldemort killed his two best friends. For the second time, Harry's heart was broken, and he made the biggest mistake of his life: he decided to learn dark magic. It wasn't entirely his fault, though. After the death of his brother Dudley, he had also felt very bad, but at the time, he was surrounded and able to grieve. Here, he was alone and had to face the hostility of the wizarding society convinced that he was the heir of Slytherin.

Dumbledore had never clearly expressed to him what had happened, but Harry was sure of one thing: something had broken inside him, and Voldemort had been able to use their connection to try to possess him. As he had done with Ginny. And finally, during their quest to destroy the last Horcrux, the Dark Lord had succeeded. Voldemort must have enchanted the ring so that whoever saw it felt the need to wear it. As soon as he finished putting on the ring, he felt an intense pain that never left him. After that, everything was confused, but he knew that Voldemort had possessed him and had ravaged the world. He was about to conquer the world (or rather destroy it) and impose his reign of terror for eternity when he met his mother's gaze. A surge of love then overwhelmed him and repelled Voldemort. He then had the presence of mind to cast a Fiendfyre on him and the ring. Thus destroying the last Horcrux and the body he possessed.

So how was it that the ring, his cloak, and Dumbledore's wand were still in Voldemort's possession? He still clearly remembered that he had arrived with nothing. If death was telling the truth (Harry assumed the skeleton was death), then these were not ordinary objects. His memories of possessing them were blurry, but by concentrating, he recalled that Voldemort wore them constantly. There was nothing surprising about him keeping his new wand and his last Horcrux permanently on him. But as for the cloak, it was more surprising. Harry even thought he remembered that he slept with it and was so terrified of it being stolen that he had instantly killed a Death Eater who had accidentally brushed against it.

He had to retrieve them. Not only was it his only hope of returning among the living, but he also couldn't leave such power in the hands of that thing. If death is not the end, then Voldemort could use them to come back even more powerful than last time. Despite his disgust, he slowly approached the creature. Or rather, he slid (he still couldn't get used to how this place worked).

As he got closer, the feeling of disgust became deeper. He wanted only one thing: to run away. When he was a few centimeters from the thing, he felt his heart beating hard and began to hear a dull and regular pounding that was extremely oppressive. His instinct screamed at him to turn back. Why on earth hadn't he-heNot listened to that day?