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A Try for Some Remorse
Harry and Voldemort circled each other melodramatically, like wolves about to rip each other to shreds, like two clichéd gunslingers finally having it out. As it just so happened, at that very moment a tumble weed blew between them, despite the fact that Britain has no tumble weeds, and that they were indoors anyway.
Hundreds looked on, biting their nails. Except for the foot steps of Voldemort and Harry as they endlessly circled each other, all was silent (as was fitting).
Voldemort was just coming to the end of another dramatic monologue. "Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!" his shrill voice rang out.
"Actually, I'm the real Master of the Elder Wand through a series of coincidences, plot contrivances, and bent and broken Wand Lore rules. I've been its Master all along and if you try to kill me, you'll only fail," said Harry. "But before you try to kill me anyway, I advise you to think about what you've done….Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…Even you could repair your split soul if you could just be sorry enough."
This stopped Riddle in his tracks. Harry stopped short and swayed on the spot. He nearly lost his balance in the process, but luckily he was able to maintain the proper distance from Riddle in their perfect circle.
From where Harry stood, several feet away in the well lit early dawn it was easy to see the pupils in Voldemort's dark red eyes contract to thin slits. It was a good thing Harry had such excellent eyesight, because upon seeing that, he knew that Voldemort was obviously shocked! So Harry continued his self-righteous speech. "It's your one last chance," he said. "It's all you've got left…I've seen what you'll be otherwise…Be a man…try…Try for some remorse…"
"You dare—?" Voldemort began, his knuckles turning even whiter than usual on the Elder Wand. Harry gripped Malfoy's wand tightly, since he instinctually knew that the moment was seconds—yet pages and lots of dull monologuing—away.
But suddenly, a look of curiosity came over Voldemort's face."What do you mean by that?" Voldemort cocked his head, and dropped his dueling stance to quote with his long, spidery fingers. "'You've seen what I'll be like otherwise.'"
"I've already told you that I sacrificed myself so you could destroy your own Horcrux..."
"Yes yes." He rolled his red eyes impatiently. "You sure do like to repeat yourself. So you sacrificed yourself. Why don't you just give yourself a pat on the back and get on with it?"
Harry's brows knit. Whether it was in rage or confusion was unknown. "Well, while I was in limbo, your soul bit from my forehead was also in limbo…and it was..." Harry paused while everyone waited with baited breath.
Voldemort huffed, "You're really into the dramatics today, aren't you, Potter?"
Harry, determined to make the best of his over extended melodrama anyway, cried "It was a creepy flayed lump of baby soooooul!! That's what your soul looks like, Riddle!"
The crowd gasped. Voldemort frowned. Harry continued sagely, "So this is your very last chance. Repent, or suffer a fate worse than death as multiple, bloody, otherworldly babies!"
"You know," Voldemort considered, paler than usual as he contemplated such a fate, "I think that I actually will repent." He turned to the hundreds lining the walls. "I repent! I'm sorry for killing your families and all, and for making life miserable for you. Cross my rotten heart--truly, really and honestly!" he yelled to the stunned crowd. With a smug look, he turned back to Harry. "So lets get this started, shall we? Now that I'm all good and sorry. Where are those Horcruxes?" He rubbed his hands together eagerly.
"Um..." Harry glanced at an astonished Ron and Hermione. "Can you guys bring the Horcruxes over?"
Hermione shuffled out into the ring, fingering her bottomless bag of plot contrivance. "Uh, Harry..." she leaned in, dropping her voice to a stage whisper, "We can't exactly repair Voldemort's soul anymore..."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, had you actually been listening back in Chapter Six when I told you all about how the soul in a Horcrux can be rejoined to a person, so long as they're really, truly sorry - "
Harry cut her off, "So then, what's the problem? Voldemort says he's sorry, and now he can repair his soul. Is this because you said it might kill him? Hermione, if he's your S.P.E.W. project rekindled after all these books, I must tell you, I really will lose my patience."
"Will you be quiet already?" said Hermione in exasperation. "Its been established for seven whole books now that I'm the smart one, damn it! So will you just listen?"
Harry's eyebrows shot towards his hairline, and he gestured for her to continue, which she did, " In general, it's possible. But Voldemort can't be rejoined with the pieces of his soul!"
"I knew it!" Harry shouted. He turned on Voldemort. "You're not sorry!"
Voldemort held up his hands, "I really am, though!"
"Will you both just shut up!?" Hermione's fists were clenched at her sides. With frustration evident in her voice, she explained, "Voldemort can't be reunited with his soul pieces because..." she held up her hand to stop Harry from speaking, "...because we've already destroyed all of the Horcruxes already. They're already in the afterlife, so there's no saving him."
A look of deep concentration crossed Harry's face as he processed this. Then suddenly, he shrugged nonchalantly, "I was only bluffing anyway. I didn't think he'd really show any remorse."
Voldemort shrugged, too. "Well, then we're even, because I was only stalling. I might be a simple minded villain but given enough time, my tiny brain can work some things out. You said your self that you're the Master of the Elder Wand, and if I try to use it against you, it won't work. Well, then..." Voldemort said, scanning the crowd for a Death Eater who had recovered consciousness during his brilliant delaying tactic. "You there, McNair. Kill Harry!"
And as the Avada Kedavra rocketed towards him, Harry cursed the irony. It was supposed to be Voldemort's spell that backfired, not the author's flair for dramatics.
Written by Heart and Sol. For more drabbles check out the profile page, and keep checking back since we post new drabbles regularly.
This story is based on a real-life plot hole from "Deathly Hallows." If you would like more information on this plot hole, or any other plot holes or related problems, please feel free to peruse our "Can't Stand Deathly Hallows" thread (more details of which are on our author's profile page). Be forewarned that you must be willing to dedicate untold amounts of time to reading through our posts, since there are so many problems in "Deathly Hallows" that we are still finding new ones each and every day. We will not be held responsible for eyestrain, carpal tunnel syndrome, headaches, tears, or any cases of severe depression you might have after reading our thread.
