Story Title: The True Power of a Hero
School: Hogwarts
Theme: Zeus - Judgement, Wrath, Immortality, Lightning Bolt and Hero/Leadership
Main Prompt: [Creatures] - Medusa
Side Prompt: [Speech] - "Hero," he/she said softly. "Vengeance and power are the ways of the Greeks and the Trojans."
Side Prompt: [Object] - The Helm of Darkness
Year: First Year
Rating: K+
Word Count: 3473
Beta(s): Aya
AU - This is my take on Harry dealing with the enormous task he has to bear. I have chosen to kill Voldemort this way specifically because it works best with the rest of the story. I also decided to have Medusa speak Parseltongue because she is a Gorgon and I thought it would better highlight the prompt. Not sure if Gorgon is capitalised or not. Also, auto-correct said UK version of this spelling is correct, sorry I it isn't – fulfil. Hope you like it!
Warnings - Vague mentions of abuse, nothing explicit. Mentions of a harsh upbringing from an orphanage. I decided to go with the theme of order and discipline as it was post-war Britain at the time. But don't worry, there are no actual details. "Italic speech is Parseltongue," anything else is just normal thoughts.
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The True Power of a Hero
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Harry Potter finally knew the truth; he had to die. The gangly teenager smiled though it was bitter and angry. His whole life had been one large orchestrated performance. Dumbledore had played his game well and kept him alive long enough to fulfil his only destiny – killing Lord Voldemort.
As Harry walked over the deathly still grounds towards the forest, he mused at how easily he had been used. Dumbledore, and Voldemort alike, they both knew him so well. Dumbledore counted on him to complete the task and walk to his death like a lamb to the slaughter, and Voldemort knew Harry would hear his message and come to the forest if it meant preventing the deaths of those he loved. The corpses of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks flashed to the forefront of his mind.
As he grew closer to the forest's edge, he wondered what dying would be like. Would it hurt? His traitorous feet carried him ever closer to his death, and Harry knew deep down no one else had to die. It had to be him.
As he finally reached Lord Voldemort and his followers deep in the forest, the Dark Lord wore a troubled look. He had been so very sure his bait was perfect; could he have been wrong?
"Perhaps, I was mistaken."
The Death Eaters assumed their Lord was addressing them, but Harry knew he was merely voicing his thoughts aloud to no one in particular. So Harry decided to face him and end this drawn-out dance to the death.
"You weren't!"
As Lord Voldemort's face snapped upwards and his minions burst into a flurry of movement and whispers, Harry found himself looking the Dark Lord in the eye. Those deep crimson eyes were searching his very soul for a hint of fear or panic. But what Lord Voldemort saw instead was something he did not expect—acceptance.
As Harry returned the Dark Lord's gaze, the teenager refused to admit to his mortal enemy that he could barely stand, or that he was close to losing control, or was more afraid than he could ever remember being. Harry was counting on Voldemort to end it quickly.
As Harry lowered his wand, he could see the Dark Lord's head tilt in confusion and Harry saw his mouth move—presumably to speak those familiar words—he saw the telltale flash of sickly green and everything was gone.
Harry knew no more.
Harry slowly drifted back into consciousness. Gingerly pulling himself to his feet, he noticed he was no longer in the Forbidden Forest, or anywhere else he recognised for that matter. Looking around, he saw giant pale pillars and a room of stone. Large bowls of oil sat on pedestals around the room to provide light in the expansive darkness. But the first thing he really saw was a huge mirror.
The frame of the mirror was bone white and carved with ancient runes. Looking at himself in the mirror, he found he was wearing strange white robes with a royal blue trim. They draped at the shoulders and fell loosely—but comfortably—on his body. Unlike the rags he had been forced to wear for the majority of his life, these felt intentionally baggy and just his size.
"Where am I?"
A hissing sound was the only indication that he had been heard, and Harry was startled when he saw a stunning viper curled up beside the mirror. It had a pale grey body and a striking diamond pattern along its back, but it was camouflaged so well that Harry hadn't seen it immediately.
"This is the Realm of the Immortals, Speaker. I am Ophion," hissed the snake in Parseltongue. "You are in the Temple of Medusa. You must only look in the mirror lest you turn to stone." Then the snake uncurled its thick coils to reveal an old looking war helmet.
The sides of the ancient metal helmet had sections to cover the nose and cheekbones down as far as the chin but did not meet in the middle. Around the eyes and forehead were decorated in Greek designs that looped together in a never-ending chain. At the top of the helmet was a mohawk, but instead of hair, it was a deep black, rippling fire. The flames acted more like shadows or smoke. Harry knew just by looking at it this helmet was unique and extraordinary. The snake butted the helmet as if telling Harry to take it.
"If you want to live, you must wear The Helm of Darkness while you are here, Speaker. The Realm is no place for a mortal. If you do not wear this helmet, you will be at the mercy of the Lord of the Dead. He will see you and send forth his servants to take you straight to the gates of the Underworld," Ophion warned.
Harry looked at Ophion in horror. Donning the helmet, Harry nodded to the viper in thanks before he heard crying nearby. There was a thumping sound followed by whimpering and Harry tried to locate its source. When he did, he saw a small child-like figure curled in pain. Its skin looked raw and flayed. Harry recoiled audibly.
"Do not fear it, Hero." Came a mysterious voice from the shadows. Harry was about to turn to see who was speaking when Ophion hissed loudly. Harry instantly remembered the warning and fixed his gaze on the mirror.
Slowly he began to make out a form in the glass. Harry's eyes bulged when he saw who had spoken. A giant half snake woman was revealed. Her hair was a writhing mass of deadly snakes, and her face was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Harry could make out the hint of tusks at her mouth, but it did not deter from her beauty. It was her eyes that frightened Harry; they were piercing and predatorial.
"Fear not, Mortal. I have no wish to turn you to stone, for you have a great destiny upon you that you yet must fulfil. You may call me, Medusa."
The cries of the maimed looking child became louder and more insistent, and Medusa glanced at it from her reflection in the mirror. Harry looked towards it in concern, careful not to look anywhere near where he knew Medusa was.
"What is that child, and why does it look that way?" asked Harry quietly. The child shuddered in obvious pain as Medusa continued to regard it curiously.
"That is what remains of the sliver of Tom Riddle's soul that attached itself to you the night you received Zeus's mark. It is dying, adrift from the whole," she remarked quietly.
Harry's mind raced. That thing was Voldemort's Horcrux? It was inside him for almost his whole life? But that didn't make any sense, did it?
"Am I alive?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Is it because this piece of soul is dying instead of me? Wait—Zeus's mark?"
"The lightning bolt upon your brow. It is a symbol of the King of the Gods, and it means immortality. You cannot die as long as Voldemort binds you to the Mortal Realm, for he carries your blood and its protection. It is curious how rarely such instances occur, but yes. You are alive, Mortal."
Harry paused to absorb this crucial information. Harry tethered the Dark Lord to life because of the Horcrux, and Lord Voldemort had achieved the same for Harry. But as delighted as he was to know that he was no longer a Horcrux, he still felt terribly for the soul piece that was dying before his eyes. He gazed at the child becoming more disturbed by the minute he had to hear it's pitiful cries.
Looking back at the Horcrux, she added, "When Lord Voldemort tried to kill you tonight, the target of his magic was the more vulnerable soul, and it left your soul untouched. The remaining fragments of his soul wait in much the same manner as this one at the shores of the Underworld, unable to pass on and find peace."
Harry looked at Medusa in the mirror, utterly horrified. "There's more like this?"
The Gorgon flashed her tusks, and her snakes writhed around her. "Yes, Hero. Since the moment Lord Voldemort killed your parents and tried to kill you, the first piece of his soul found its way to the shores of the afterlife. With every subsequent Horcrux that was destroyed, they joined the first piece in the same endless torment. It cannot pass on until it is restored and can be properly judged by Rhadamanthys, Minos, and Aiakos."
Harry wrestled with his emotions. "This is my fault? Tell me what to do, please! There must be something I can do to stop this!" asked Harry. "No one should have to die like this, alone and suffering. Can I pick him up?"
Medusa laughed a terrible laugh at his odd request. It chilled Harry deeply. "You wish for the torment of your mortal enemy to cease? This one has wronged you, perhaps more than any other! He condemned you to a life of suffering and abuse. Of being both a pariah and a hero." She leaned down to him in the mirror in a frightening manner. "If you chose it, Tom Riddle's soul would remain here in this manner, doomed to suffer for all eternity. You could have vengeance!"
Harry thought about it and frowned.
"I don't want revenge. It won't undo what Voldemort did; revenge isn't the answer," he clarified quietly.
Medusa softened her gaze.
"Hero," she said softly. "Vengeance and power are the ways of the Greeks and the Trojans."
Harry looked at her reflection with confusion. She added, "When Paris spirited Helen to the free state of Troy, Menelaus used vengeance to his advantage. He vowed to destroy Troy if she was not returned. They refused, and he made good on his promise, securing himself the Aegean sea to further his wealth."
When Harry picked up the Horcrux and cradled it, its pitiful struggles quieted. Medusa continued quietly, "As a mortal, I had the power of beauty. Not believing the warnings to take precautions, my arrogance cost me everything, my life, my dignity, my innocence, and even the control of my own gaze. I was cursed for eternity." She tilted her head a little.
"Hero," she said, "in my years I have found only a very few worthy souls meant to possess such power. When the power of leadership is thrust upon them, only those who do not seek it wear it well. You are worthy of power, Hero."
"Power!" Harry spat and stared down at the flayed child in his arms with pity. "Look at what power cost him. When I was eleven, he told me there was no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it. I don't want power, I just want to be myself and live my own life in peace."
Medusa gazed at him through the mirror. "Your people will never allow it! You have a great destiny, and they can sense it."
Harry snorted. "What's great about any of this? They call me the Chosen One and expect me to kill Voldemort. I don't even know how and the longer I take to figure it out, more innocent people will die. I don't even know if I'm capable of killing. Even if it's Voldemort." Harry bowed in defeat.
"But you must!" Medusa cried.
"How can you ask me to kill?" Harry retorted. "It's not who I am!"
Medusa looked down at Harry realising that perhaps he was genuinely incapable of murder. She had tried to appeal to his sense of vengeance and then his status. But it seemed none of those things mattered to the boy. Maybe there was another way. Gazing at him softly from the mirror, she spoke.
"Hero, you must judge Tom Riddle." Harry frowned. "Look deep into his eyes and follow the link you share. Judge him."
Harry smiled down at the quiet, contented child in his arms and looked into his eyes. Focusing only on their link, Harry was instantly vaulted into a strange, disjointed world that was Tom Riddle's mind. He found himself assaulted by images of violence. This soul piece held clusters of memories from Tom's entire life, and Harry stared in shock at what he was seeing. He saw brief memories of abuse from the orphanage, where discipline and order had been enforced harshly. There was no love or kindness.
Harry saw fragmented memories of Tom growing up at Hogwarts where he struggled to survive in Slytherin House due to his questionable blood status in his earlier years. He saw a huge thirst for knowledge and approval from those around him. Everywhere Tom looked, he was denied this, and Harry began to see his rage build. Every memory Harry saw he felt Tom's anger, pain, and loneliness. His mistrust turned into terrible wrath that couldn't be contained. Tom wanted the world to feel his pain and vengeance.
Harry felt immense pity for Voldemort. He had never known the love of a mother as Harry had. As he thought of Lily, Harry soaked up that feeling of maternal love and protection. Tom had never even had a true friend or a sibling. Harry couldn't imagine a life without Hermione and the Weasley's. Ron's brothers were as good as family to him and never failed to make him smile. Harry bathed in the sense of peace knowing his own life had held such joys. Leaving Tom's mind quietly, Harry opened his eyes and gasped.
In his lap lay a perfectly unmarred little boy. No longer maimed and flayed looking, the soul piece drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Harry looked up at Medusa's reflection in incredulity.
Medusa was smiling. "You have judged him, Hero. What did you see?"
Still in shock, Harry replied slowly. "I saw rage, mistrust, suffering, and loneliness. He had never known love or understanding or kindness. He never knew his mother and never even had a friend. It was awful."
Medusa smiled widely. "Exactly! Now do you understand your power? You have a capacity to understand, to empathise, to love, and cherish. You have a strong urge to protect the weak and innocent and an amazing ability to forgive. You truly have a power Tom Riddle has never known."
Harry's eyes widened in shock as he recalled the prophecy.
Medusa nodded. "The Horcruxes that have passed on are now healed and merged. His soul is still not complete as two pieces remain in the Mortal Realm. When you return, judge him as you did here and heal his remaining living soul. You will see a tether tying him to life, and you will be able to break it. Tom Riddle will be able to find the peace he has sought in life. Ending his life would not be murder, but a kindness; you would be showing him mercy, Hero."
Harry looked down at the sleeping child. Knowing Tom Riddle's Horcruxes were no longer suffering eased his worries. He now knew what Medusa meant by his destiny being great. It wasn't great in the traditional sense, but great in its enormity and burden. Most people in his position would judge Lord Voldemort and allow his suffering to continue, but Harry couldn't, knowing he would have to live with that choice for the rest of his life. He would end Tom Riddle's suffering and allow him to rest in peace.
Looking up at Medusa, Harry smiled. "I think I'm ready to go back. It's time for this war to come to an end."
"I agree, Hero," she replied. "Take the Helm with you; it will aid your efforts as it employs special powers when worn in battle. It will return here after your battle is won." She clarified a few more things for Harry before he stood up. "It is time, Hero. Simply will yourself to return and it will be so."
Harry gave her a final smile. "Thank you for all your help. It was a pleasure to meet you, Medusa."
She smiled widely, and the world faded for Harry.
Harry came to on the forest floor where he had fallen. It seemed like mere seconds had passed. The Death Eaters were too busy assessing the condition of Lord Voldemort to notice Harry disappear as the power of the Helm of Darkness took effect. Medusa had explained some of the peculiar effects of the helmet when worn in battle. It had the power to radiate such severe fear that people would stop fighting. Its effects were so terrible a person could drop dead of a heart attack. It would also mask his presence, physical and magical, so multiple enemies would find it very difficult to retaliate.
When Voldemort's followers began to shiver and grab their heads in terror, Harry realised the effects looked a lot like a person responding to the effects of a dementor. They couldn't defend themselves from the helmet's power, and slowly each of them sank to the ground, suffering from their own worst nightmares.
Harry looked at the Dark Lord to see if he was similarly affected, but he only looked uneasy and cagey. Harry took the opportunity to cast a silent body bind to make sure Voldemort didn't attack him before gazing deeply into the Dark Lord's eyes.
Following the link, Harry was once again transported into his fragmented mind. He saw Lord Voldemort's thoughts and Harry felt how terrified he was to be bound by someone he couldn't see. He fought viciously against the bind and the mental assault, but there was nothing he could do.
Harry stared at the more recent memories and frowned. On top of the anger and pain Harry had found in his previous trip into Voldemort's mind, Harry could now feel his huge obsession with defeating Harry and using the Elder Wand to achieve it. The fact that he killed a man because he thought Severus was its owner spoke to his obsession.
As he continued to search the Dark Lord's mind, Harry saw fresh images of violence and rage, and to Harry's horror, his subordinates bore the brunt of it. The Dark Lord had developed a nasty habit of lashing out viciously and repeatedly, and Harry could see the fear and distrust he had built among his followers. It seemed the only way they could survive now was to turn that same attitude outward onto the world. He knew now most of his followers served out of fear for their lives or that of their families.
Harry couldn't help but feel immense pity at the state of the Dark Lord's mind as this man was nothing but an empty husk of violence and insanity. Harry encompassed Voldemort's mind and tried to calm the man's struggles. He began to project feelings of love, kindness, friendship, and peace. As he fed positive emotions through the link, he felt Voldemort's struggles become weaker before Harry felt the definite shift along the soul tether and realised the soul was healing and trying to merge with what remained on the other side.
Following the link further, Harry saw a tether tying the man to his body and another leading to Nagini who remained nearby. Carefully, he ran a thread of magic around the link and snapped his link to Nagini. Finally, he reached around the final tether knowing this would effectively be the end of Lord Voldemort.
'Peace, Tom. I'm sorry for how the world treated you, and I want you to know I understand. No one should have to suffer the way you did, but it's over now; so I hope you can find peace now that you could never find in life. Goodbye, Tom.'
With that, Harry snapped the thread and found himself thrown out of the man's mind. When he looked around, he couldn't believe the first thing he saw. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were all dead. Harry raised his eyebrows. The myths about the Helm's power weren't unfounded.
In death, Voldemort no longer looked monstrous as he had in life. Now that his soul was once again whole and healed, Harry was surprised to see that the Dark Lord now looked handsome and human. Gone were the scales and slits for nostrils. He had wavy, brown hair and smooth, pale skin. But what pleased Harry the most was his expression; the man was at peace.
Nagini turned her gaze up to him, and her tongue flickered. "I felt the echo of my master's mind before he died. He was himself again. Thank you for showing him mercy, Harry Potter." She slithered off into the forest without a backward glance.
As he watched her go, Harry smiled knowing he had done the right thing.
His destiny was finally fulfilled.
Thank you for reading!