Sumary:

Oneshoot. Dark Alternative ending for the Deathly Hallows. Harry doesn't take the news of him being a Horcrux very well. What could have happened if that occurred?

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and anything related to it. I don't think I would be writing fanfiction if I did.

This is a translation of my story in Spanish. I'm grateful to Gamf Fatlard Hobos for being my beta. Thanks to her :)

There is a Harry a little more… Slytherin here, and a Voldemort with a little more sense than the one we find in the books. But as a Dark Fic, I get that you all will see the changes necessary in the characters for this to work. I tried to stay closed to canon.

*Just a little thing, because it was necessary for the story, Dumbledore and the rest of the headmasters portraits never left.*

"Speech"

"Telepathy"

I hope you enjoy it.

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Harry got quickly out of the pensieve and as soon as his feet touched ground they staggered, making him lose balance and fall.

He didn't stand up. Being in the old headmaster's office, the new information that had just passed in front of his eyes had been overwhelming for him.

"The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing" his ex-headmaster had said. Harry had to admit, that in that moment, those words were totally true. Something that could not be said of any other that had been told to him in his life.

The headmaster had never lied to him; actually, when he had talked he had always said the truth, something that had made him respect the old man. But Dumbledore had made a mistake a lot worse than lying to a teenager.

He stayed still in the floor, his arms encircling his knees. An invisible hole had made an appearance in his chest, hurting and eating his very soul.

He has been betrayed, lied, every minute of his life, and he hadn't been smart enough as to realize it.

He had been stupid, he had been an idiot.

He hadn't seen beyond his carefully worked up mind of a Gryffindor, and on second thought, there were factors that had generated that. He had let people manipulate him, mold him as they wanted, so they could create a seventeen-year-old that after so much battle every day since he had entered the magic world, would feel forced and inspired to sacrifice himself for the everyone else. Because that was his destiny, that was the final to his story, ending up dead.

A tear fell from one of his green eyes, which were watching through the window the great amount of stars incrusted in the sky. The only thing he had always wanted was to live a normal life. Not to be used, not to be watched by everyone, and not to have someone attempting to murder him everyday.

Dumbledore had given him hope; he had taught him that evil could be combated.

"But he had also told you that to achieve it there would be sacrifices needed" a voice in his head said. Harry pressed his teeth strongly and shook his head with rage. He didn't believe it, Was it worth it to fight for a world in which he was not going to be living in after everything was finished?

He clenched his hands with strength, while anger converted into rage and hatred, which flowed across his body. Each one of those feelings came together and grew in his head, while he tried to assimilate what was happening. It was unfair, that was, he though. Why did it have to be him that should pass through all this? Why couldn't anyone else be the one that should sacrifice himself for the best of everyone except himself? Thinking that way was wrong, it was selfish, or at least, that was what everyone had carved into his head.

Harry stood up. He looked at his clock and it indicated him that he only had half an hour left. He went to the window and recline his forehead on the cold glass while in the meantime he observed Hogwart's gardens, in where the members of the Order of the Phoenix and students that were willing to join in the battle waited impatiently for what was coming next… at least he turned himself in.

He knew that some of those people appreciated him and took care of him, but he needed to see this story from another point of view: he was the boy who lived. For many, a boy that had faced the Dark Lord repeatedly times an came out alive, something that seemed to give them the reason to believe that he should keep trying and risk everything to save them. They incited him, but no one had the courage to do the work for themselves. Nobody in all the magical community tried to face Voldemort and defeat him, that, it seemed, was the work that a kid had been pushed to do since he was eleven years old.

He shutted his eyes with force while his inside was a battlefield where thousands of thoughts combatted, each one trying to take shape and direct the boy with their logic. The conflict reason was simple: what was he going to do?

So much danger, and just now he found out: he didn't want to die. Not now.

He could go and turn himself in to get after that killed and leave a clear track for somebody else to do the job that needed to be done. But... who would be the one to defeat Voldemort then? Nobody would put himself in his place! Nobody had in mind to finish him for once! Not them, it had to be him the one to do it.

If he permitted Voldemort to kill him, he would continue being immortal thanks to Nagini and still, if she died, the Dark Lord was extremely powerful and dreaded as if to have an enemy. And if Harry decided to escape, even if the snake was killed, there would be one Horcrux left: himself.

Caught in his own thoughts and rage he caught an object located next to him in an ancient table. He turned around and threw it with all his might toward the opposite wall, hitting a portrait, in which the guest shouted alerted when the object pass through the cloth of the painting.

He took out his wand and walked aggressively until he was in front of Dumbledore's portrait. He was shattered, he felt betrayed and sad, his world was a contradiction between what he had been taught and what he wanted.

" Why did you fool me like that?" he asked.

The picture of Dumbledore scrutinized him, seeing his reaction. He looked rather surprised, but next his face was full of understanding.

"It was... for your own good, I didn't think that if should have been me who told you the truth."

"You're lying" he accused him" At the end it was you who told it to me, even if it was a memory. So, why wait? Why not tell me that one of the reason to why Voldemort is alive it is myself? You taught me all of his past so we could have the Horcruxes destroyed, then kill him and that way follow the prophecy. It seems that not in the way I had thought of Apparently it was not the way I thought.. I am going to do it, but not by fighting, rather sacrificing myself in order to let somebody else do the work, which I am sure nobody can, or better yet, nobody wants to do."

Dumbledore began:

"To achieve changes..."

" There is a need for sacrifices"Harry completed"I know it, and you have told me that before, and sincerely, it does not concern me anymore. I would be willing to lose an arm, a foot. But why fight something that will still be alive after I suicide?"

" Think about people."

" Screw people!" He screamed exasperated. "Always the others! Do it for them! For people's happiness! And I what, Dumbledore? Don't I have the right to be happy? To be able to do what I want?"

For a moment the director seemed to be left without words. Right after some seconds, Harry saw tear fell.

" I'm sorry."

" When they caught Sirius you didn't even gave him a chance to believe him innocent, when I finally had him back, thanks to your hobby of hiding thing he died and you told me you were sorry. I was furious, but I managed to forgive you because I thought that I was the most guilty of the two. Then came the show of sixth year, and now this, do you want to ask me forgiveness for your mistakes? I can do it once; I already did it for a second time when I believed that you had made a mistake in trusting Snape. But not a third time, not after discovering what you had plotted to do with me and what its consequences are going to be.

" If you don't do it Voldemort will not be stopped"Dumbledore warned him.

Harry hammered his view into the picture while he thought about his friends, about their disappointment if he didn't do what it seemed to be a plan that Dumbledore had put in front of him a long time ago, although he didn't think that disappointment would last much, even if he did it or not, Voldemort would have free reign over them and he didn't think that Harry Potter's best friends would be treated with nothing less that death.

Besides, what's the point in doing it if he was not going to be there afterwards to enjoy it?

"Nothing else matter now" he answered. He raised his wand and murmured" Incendio.

The picture exploded in fire, while its inhabitant ran for his life.

As soon as ashes were the only thing left, Harry just stood there overlooking the place. Then he sighed. He looked at his watch and saw that he had only fifteen minutes left.

He didn't know what to do, and his head hurt even more than before.

He didn't have a lot of time, he need to think. He let his mind wander through his recent thoughts, Remus, Tonk, Fred and many others that had perished that day. Dead they were, and he couldn't do anything about it.

Afterward he thought about Hermione, Ron... the only real friends he had ever had. But what did he win if he let himself be catch by death because of Voldemort's hand when he knew that he and everyone of them would suffer the same destiny? Because he was sure that that was what was going to happen, Voldemort wouldn't be stopped. He had this war between his finger, and he was winning.

Harry stopped moving and concentrated in finding Voldemort by using their connection. He wanted to know his position. It was better to be prepared.

All his senses disappeared, and next he found himself in front of an horde of death eaters in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. And it wasn't just anywhere, but the place where he had met Aragog.

"I knew you would come Potter, although this wasn't what I had in mind."

Harry almost jumps in horror at being discovered and immediately attempts to leave the connection, but something or somebody was preventing it from happening.

"I order you to come here. Do not believe that I will let you go that easy."

Harry growled.

"Go to Hell."

"It seems you've not changed a bit Potter, now ,please me and tell me what is it that you're going to do."

"I don't know what is it that you're talking about""the boy answered sincerely.

"Do not think that you're the only one that has access to the mind link"Harry swallowed hard.

"What did you see?"

"Everything, and I must say that the part in which you set Dumbledore's portrait on fire was my favorite"

Harry gritted his teeth, and mumbled mentally.

"Stop talking in circles and tell me what you want bastard."

"Tsk,tsk, Potter. I would like to know where you got such an attitude and language."

"Ask the Dursleys, they raised me." the boy who live blurted out to him, annoyed by then.

"I want to make a deal"said Voldemort."the last thing I saw through our connection has changed the course of my plans in several levels."

"A deal? What kind of deal?"

"Join me."

Harry could hear his own laugh in the distance. This was unbelievable.

"Are you trying to be funny?" That was the last thing that he had expected from Voldemort. In fact, he would have never guessed it.

"I protect my interests" Riddle limited himself to say "and you know which one of them is."

"Don't listen to Voldemort, Harry." said Dumbledore's voice in the distance.

"Apparently the old man managed to escape of the portrait" explained the Dark Lord "I think you want to answer him, I will let your conscience go to your body, but I will still be in your mind.

Harry blinked several times and finally saw that he was once again in the old headmaster office in his body. Although he could not be calm yet, he could feel Voldemort's presence in his mind.

" Where have you been, Harry?" the former headmaster accused him.

The young boy looked at him angrily.

" I already told you! You will not order me around! and I am definitely not listening to a portrait" Harry shouted back.

"Then listen to me."

" You killed my parents, and Cedric, Sirius and many more. By now one of the Weasley family is already dead and so it is someone that I considered a friend." Harry reminded him.

"And if you do what people and Dumbledore want you to do, not only them will die, but so will you."

"That's not the point." Harry answered sighing.

" You ask for happiness, you thought about your life and realized that you wanted to be able to take your own decisions, to be able to choose what you want. Because Harry" the boy felt awkward that Voldemort had used his name. "that's what they have taken from you, they haven't make you be who you don't want to be, they made you think that what you wanted were certain things, things they expected you to think about in a certain light which would favor them in the end.

Before Harry could respond to that, Voldemort continued.

"Everything for what? To avoid your rebelling, boy." He remained in silence, waiting for an explanation. "Tell me, Harry: How different are we? What set us apart?"

"The Dursleys," he answered.

"Do you think Dumbledore sent you there just for protection? Couldn't he have just sent you to another family? There were many other methods and all of them could've been just as successful.

"The real reason was to make you submissive, obedient. Do you think it was coincidence that Hagrid was the person that rescued you from that miserable house, when in reality the ones who are in contact with the world of magic are visited by professors. You adored them. Every single one of them; Hagrid, Dumbledore. You regarded them as your saviors, those who took you out of that hell you lived in for ten years. You believed in them because they were the first to answer your questions. Everything was a perfect, elaborated plan. Imagine if you hadn't met that disgrace of a Weasley: in what House would you have been?"

"Slytherin," he replied without thinking.

It was obvious, and he didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. If it was destiny or some human force he had no knowledge of, but in some things he was right. What was the difference between his childhood and Tom Riddle's? Abused as a child, not shown any affection, abandoned by parents that have died and only with the thought that that they didn't love him. The only difference was that Tom didn't let other people rule over his life. He set his own goals, even if they ended in a different path.

Harry searched his mind and wondered how he would've ended if he had enclosed himself like Voldemort, if he would've been the same.

He thought in another First Year, one in which he accepted Voldemort's offer to join him. Perhaps from hate that his aunt and uncle had implanted in him. Or to be better; who knows?

And now, seven years later, in a different situation, he wanted to push everything aside, this time by betrayal, manipulation, and once again, to do what he wished.

Every dictator falls by the people that they once oppressed. Dumbledore was right, although he should have taken his own advice.

"In ancient civilizations, sacrifices were the common currency and was accepted. We decide what is right and wrong, Harry, the culture is what chooses, and I intend to create a new one."

He clenched his hands, he felt pain, but not physical, this one was psychological. His heart told him that Voldemort was wrong, but his mind opposed what he said. He didn't want to die, and he certainly did not want to be his own murderer.

"Let me go," he told the Lord.

"You have ten minutes to think about it. Exit there and go to the old man's tomb. I believe that you won't decline what I'm about to propose to you and if not... We shall finish this once and for all."

And with that the Dark Lord released him.

Harry fell, drenched in sweat. Breathing rapidly, he stood up and started leaving.

"Harry." He spun around and met Dumbledore's gaze, for the first time clouded with fear and worry, watching him from one of the old headmasters' portraits. "Regardless of what he told you or what you are going to do... Don't do it. Imagine all of those who you would disappoint, think of what might happen.

"Professor,"interrupted Harry, "you speak to me about disappointment. Disappointment? Everybody disappoints me, they let me down. Can't I repay them the favor? Whatever I do is my problem, so please do me a favor and disappear."

In the mean time, tears trailed down Dumbledore's cheeks. In reality he was not the same person, but he couldn't help it. Out of all the mistakes he had done in his life, this was surely the worst one.

And what worried him the most was that after many failed events he still hadn't learned his lesson, even after he was dead.

"Harry!"

The mentioned boy was startled. So much peace had overwhelmed him, and now a simple shout seemed too outrageous to him. He turned and saw Neville walking his way, sweaty and full of fear.

"Where have you been! The entire school is crazy. Voldemort's ranks will be arriving any minute if..."his voice got low, but before the boy could continue Harry cut his sentence.

"I'll go Neville."

The chestnut-haired boy looked at him worried, but at the same time, something told Harry that he was a little relieved.

Something hard sank in the depth of Harry's stomach, and a simple question was formulated in his head. How would his friends feel about this? Worried, but at the same time relieved? Would they really stop him of going there?

Yes, but in the end, a voice said in his head, everyone would expect him to risk himself to save them... because that was what a Gryffindor would do, isn't it?

The problem was that perhaps he was not the Gryffindor that everyone thought of him.

"Take care of yourself," that was the only thing he said to Neville walking away from there.

And if he said that he would not go because doing it was the same as suicide?

He could already see it; he could foresee his classmates, professors and order of the phoenix members faces. Reassuring him that what he had said was true, that it didn't matter, that they would still fight.

But Harry knew that he would actually disappoint them all, they would fear the consequences of him not doing it. And because he was supposed to be the one that could destroy certain Dark Lord, they would probably take the battle that was coming as their last.

He walked a little faster. His anger carried him. He was in hell, and in the most possible literal way.

With his invisibility cloak he passed unnoticed in front of anyone and then started walking through Hogwarts' gardens. His destiny was Dumbledore's tomb. It was incredible, how when walking there, the night seemed quiet, it was almost a dream, but the tension was something that couldn't be ignored. Magic was flowing like an enormous river that hit everything and anyone, and nobody knew where or when that river was going to end.

He pulled out his wand and started remembering what had happened during that year. That's when he remembered the Snitch.

He took it out and the words: -I open at the close- shook him up brusquely.

In the situation he was in, it was incredible how those words made sense.

He laid the golden ball in his lips and whispered:

"I'm about to die"

And as he had planned ahead, the metal cover opened. The beams of light projected by the moon revealed the split black stone.

The resurrection's stone, the one that could bring, not completely, whom once had inhabited this world.

Right after watching it for some moments he pressed it strongly with his hands, and while his green eyes shone, he threw it away with strength toward the forbidden forest.

He sighed and kept on going. A tear fell for his cheek and furious he drew it out from there. The question of why he had threw the artifact that perhaps would had allowed him to see the people that he loved, was something that even Harry wondered.

But still... he had to do it if he was to stay playing the game that was his life at the moment.

Harry had problems with his friends, with the magical community, with Voldemort, with his morals and with himself. Pulling in the situation the people that was already dead, not only would unbalance him with feelings in the crucial moment he was in, but it would also confuse him more that what he already was. Besides, Harry was not so sure of being able to bear it.

His heart was shattered, broken in more pieces that somebody should allow. If death was some kind of rest, why not give himself to it?

He turned to the heavens and thought about it. He imagined about his encounter with all of those he had loved once, in how they would scold him for not fighting, give himself in and let Voldemort do what he wanted to.

He would end up bearing the same pain he had in life, only this time it would last for eternity.

A shiver ran through his body at the thought. Was there a place he could go in which nobody would view him as the Boy Who Lived? Not like a person that had the duty to dispose of the most powerful wizard in the world, or like a failure who disappointed and abandoned them.

He started walking slower and thought about the words Voldemort had told him before he had dismissed him. Join him? Why? The fact that he himself bore a piece of the Dark Lord's soul played a crucial role in the offer. But what else? What was his purpose?

Harry smiled sadly and thought about the irony that the only people that did not regard him as the Chosen One and Almighty, were actually his enemies. But was it worth it to give himself to them? Was it worth it to abandon everything he once believed in?

He raised his hand a little and saw he had arrived. Meanwhile Harry advanced, Voldemort scrutinized him from the tomb, wand in his hand.

"It's good to see you came," he commented.

Harry took out his wand, but he kept it by his side, just in case.

"Tell me what you want, I'll listen to you," Harry stated solemnly. It was unbelievable the words had come out of his mouth, but he had, and it was time to listen.

"You already know what I'll tell you. I propose you join me, but not only like a Death Eater. I believe you're higher up in the food chain."

He asked, "Why?"

"You already know one of the reasons, and the other, if you don't remember, is that I can enter your mind, Potter." Harry swallowed saliva; how he hated being an open book. "I know what you want and I can give it to you." Harry was about to protest when Voldemort raised his hand, silencing him, and continued, "Tell me, Harry: When have I lied to you? In one time, in many of our encounters, despite the circumstances... have I ever told you something that is not the truth? And tell me what Dumbledore has done to you before: he made you the perfect dog, one who follows all the orders, direct or indirect. Tell me if your Slytherin heritage, let's call it-" Harry assumed he was referring to the Horcrux- "hadn't taken control of your mind and you were as much Gryffindor in your heart and soul. Where do you believe you would be? Where do you think that crazy old man's manipulations would've taken you?" he asked meanwhile he hit the tomb after him.

Harry sighed. He knew where he would be in those moments, lying on the ground, with his eyes blank and dead.

He could see what Voldemort was pointing out. In the end, the Dark Lord wanted him by his side for the same purpose Dumbledore had.

Voldemort made it through promises of power and give him everything he never had. Dumbledore played the role of being the messenger of light and everything he did was for the "common good". Couldn't he just take a neutral position in this damn war and finish everything?

No, and he knew it. If he was another person, perhaps, but not being the damned Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One. He made a mental scale and thought: Voldemort killed his parents, Cedric, Serius, and many more. Dumbledore lied to him, tricked him, and it was also his fault that many of those people were dead. What to do? The side of light had betrayed him. The dark one had taken what he wanted. What weighed more in the scale?

He raised his gaze firmly. His emerald eyes were reflected in Voldemort's vivid red. A special smile had lit in his face, or perhaps it could have been called a grin. He already knew what the boy was going to say.

"I'll join you," he said firmly.

The night seemed to get chilled. The moment was sealed, and the world appeared to change to an abyss of silence.

The war had been won.

"That, Harry-" the mentioned boy didn't miss the detail on how his name had been said with self-satisfaction- "is the wisest and best decision you have made in your life. Now, there's something else I wish to discuss. Come closer."

Harry, still suspicious, hesitantly approached him.

"Would you agree to a memory-erasing spell?"

Where did that come from?

"For what?" he asked, astonished.

"I know you, Potter, and my side is not a paradise full of butterflies. If you want to come to my side, I want to think you'll do well, and won't betray me. I don't think you will, as long as I meet your requirement you ask of me, or just said. But let's just say it will ease you in some aspects."

"What do you want me to forget?" he asked.

"Anything that impedes you accomplish your job," Voldemort simply answered. "Anything related to your morals, and simply, almost everything about your friends."

"I will forget them... All..."

"This is my deal: I'll erase your memories and in two years you'll regain them," he proposed.

"How is that going to help me?"

"So that you quit being a little boy with an enclosed mind. So that once and for all you understand both sides of the war. You can't fight if you don't know who, why and to who you fight against, Potter."

Harry thought about it and then Voldemort asked, "Will you do it?"

He analyzed the possibilities, in everything he could lose, cause... But it was either this or death and more death.

And who knows, maybe, from the beginning this was destined to happen. He nodded, confirming that he agreed with the plan.

"Excellent. Now it's time to begin with the plan."

Harry saw the face of the man in front of him. He had his wand raised. He thought about the war, the battles. England would be submerged in darkness.

His thoughts rambled through his mind, at least until he had his memories erased. He didn't know if Voldemort would honor his promise in two years, but now it didn't matter much to him. Why would he want to remember that he had abandoned everybody

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, but now he couldn't do anything about it.

"Obliviate!" he heard the Dark Lord say before falling into the biggest of depths. He didn't know if he had done well, because the idea was very subjective to him now. The only thing that concerned him was that now, perhaps he could start a new life, its class not mattering.

Simply, he didn't want to be Harry Potter anymore and be marked by that scar.

I have had some requests in the Spanish section for a continuation to this. Something like a "19 years later…" or just a long continuation after this.

I don't know if I'll do it. But it could be. Especially the "19 years later" idea.

I hope you liked the story.

Goodbye

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