Force Mage: Voices on the Other Side

One: Pyrrhic Victories
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It had not been worth it in the end.

Tom Riddle had been killed by Harry Potter in a final, cataclysmic battle on Azkaban, the two leaving a swath of destruction behind them stretching across all of Britain. The sky had flashed lightning, earthquakes claimed the land, tornadoes swept across the island, and hurricanes buffeted the shores.

Both their wands snapped, Harry slew Riddle with a mixture of magic and swordplay, using Gryffindor's Sword as a magical focus. After his magical maturation, Harry was likely the strongest wizard in existence, several times stronger than even the legendary Merlin.

But, in the end, it still hadn't been worth it.

Harry was nineteen. Most of his friends hadn't lived past Harry's eighteenth birthday.

Ron, Charlie, Arthur, and George were killed in a Death Eater raid on the Burrow on Ginny's birthday after Harry's fifth year. Harry had killed Dolohov there, recently having reached his magical maturation. But, four members of his adopted family and his best friend were dead.

But, none of that mattered. Four were dead. Harry had destroyed most of the surrounding landscape in Ottery St. Catchpole in his grief.

Hagrid and Hedwig, his two first friends, had been slain during Easter of his sixth year by Mulciber and MacNair. Harry killed them, slowly.

But they still weren't alive.

Dumbledore, Fred, Molly, and Bill had been killed during Christmas in Harry's sixth year by Snape, who was a traitor the entire time. Harry mind raped Snape to death, using his prodigious Legilimentic and Occlumentic abilities. Harry felt a certain dark amusement at returning Snape's sins during his fifth year back at him.

But, they were still dead.

Hermione and Ginny had been raped and killed by the Malfoys during New Year's Day in Harry's sixth year. Harry had annihilated Malfoy Manor and tortured the Malfoys to death.

None of that mattered. It had not brought them back. They were dead. He had destroyed Malfoy Manor in a burst of green flame in his grief.

Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks and their new son Teddy Lupin had been killed during Easter of Harry's sixth year. Nymphadora had been raped several times by Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange and then raped by an Imperiused Remus. Remus was forced to watch as his child's head was cracked open and his wife raped by the Lestranges and then by him under Imperius. He was made to torture her to death, before he swiftly followed her in a flash of green light.

The body parts were mailed to Harry.

Harry returned the favor and left the Lestranges in pieces, covered in their own blood, piss, and shit. But, it still didn't matter.

The Lupins were dead.

Bellatrix Lestrange had killed the Longbottoms swiftly before torturing Neville to insanity during Christmas of his seventh year. Harry returned the favor. He showed Bellatrix that he did indeed know how to mean a Cruciatus Curse.

But, Neville was dead. Death and torture did not resurrect him.

Luna had been raped and killed by the Crabbe and Goyle families during that same day. Harry reduced their bodies to mist for that.

But, Luna was dead anyway.

Harry had realized that vengeance was ultimately pointless. It solved nothing. All he could do was prevent future deaths. He could not resurrect the dead. Harry became a weapon, cold, efficient, and ruthless. He had precisely one policy for his enemies: he used them and then killed them.

It was then that Harry began to start preventing deaths. He became the bane of the Death Eaters, their greatest fear.

Harry killed Riddle two years later. The prophecy was fulfilled. But, they were all dead. Riddle's death did not bring them back.

It had been a tragedy of pyrrhic victories. Harry might have killed Riddle, but Riddle had killed every reason for Harry to continue living.

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It was the day after Riddle's death. The Ministry was in chaos. For the first time in nearly twenty years, owls filled the sky, people in strange robes walked the streets celebrating, pubs were filled to the brim, and song filled the skies. Nothing had really changed since Voldemort's first defeat.

Harry took part in none of that. He had been slated for an Order of Merlin, First Class, minutes after slaying Riddle. Harry ignored the letter. He didn't give a damn about Fudge's administration and he didn't give a damn about their accolades.

He just wanted to die. So, there he sat in the Department of Mysteries, entranced by the archway. It was covered in ancient, spidery runes. A tattered veil hung, swaying softly. Harry could swear that he heard whispering coming from it.

"The preparations have been made, Harry. I've given the money, stocks, and properties off according to your will," Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody said, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Harry said nothing, staring at the Veil.

After a pregnant pause, Moody said, "Are you sure you want this, Harry?"

That got his attention. Harry looked up.

He said softly, his eyes shining with smoldering intensity and his voice tinged with steel, "Of course I want this. I have nothing left to live for. Everyone I ever cared about is dead. I can join them now that Riddle is dead. The prophecy is fulfilled. Haven't I earned my peace yet?"

Moody said with a heavy voice, "That you did, kid, that you did. I won't interfere with your decision. It's your choice in the end. If anyone deserves the right to this, Harry, it's you."

Harry said nothing. He stood up and walked towards the Veil.

He turned around and smiled faintly to Moody, "Goodbye, Mad-Eye. See you on the other side, hopefully not too soon."

Without bothering to wait for a reply, Harry walked through the Veil and knew no more.