Remorse Chapter 2

I'm excited, because this is officially my first multi-chapter Harry Potter fanfic! (I have written a couple one-shots if you would like to read them)

Disclaimer: I'm sorry to inform one of my kind reviewers, that I am not JK Rowling, even if they think the story seems like an alternate ending that she might write.

On that note, thank you! thank you! thank you! to all of the people who reviewed the first chapter: snape's-doe-513, Jerzy, foxtrot852, and Igilbert1982! You are the best! I really really hope that this chapter - and at least one more, I don't know how long this is going to be - doesn't disappoint you!

Tom pulled out his wand – the phoenix feather wand, of course. The Elder Wand was back at the school, but he no longer cared. He stared at the wand thoughtfully, turning it over and over in his hands as though he'd never seen it before. The things this wand had done . . .

He snapped it in half.

"I am a wizard no longer," he whispered, and let the pieces of his old wand slip through his fingers. It hit the ground with a soft thump and Tom knew that all his magical power had gone with it – because that was what happened when you renounced magic. His mother had done it, many years ago, and now he followed in her footsteps. He'd never use magic again, even if he wanted to. But he didn't want to.

Over the next few weeks he made his way back to England, working at odd jobs to afford train tickets. He learned that it been over nineteen years since the end of the Second Wizarding War, when he had disappeared. He took to using the name Thomas Gaunt, on the off chance that in those nineteen the years, Lord Voldemort's birth name had become known.

As the hero of the Second Wizarding War, there was no lack of information on Harry Potter. There were even books written about him in the Muggle world, taken to be fantasy. Tom learned quickly not only where he lived, but also his occupation – Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry – and the names of his wife and children. He thought of the boy he'd understood – or thought he understood – so well almost twenty years ago, but could not imagine him being a father.

Tom went to the post office and addressed a letter to Harry Potter.

Harry and Ginny returned home after seeing off James, Albus and Rose, meeting Ron and Hermione there for the second annual "start of the kids' school year" get together. They were exchanging stories of their first experiences of Hogwarts and assuring each other that Albus and Rose would be fine, when Ginny suddenly said, "I don't recognize that owl."

A large barn owl was sitting on the windowsill. Harry went to let it in, but as soon as he took the letter, it left. "Probably a public owl, from the post office." He said, opening the letter.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron. Harry didn't answer, just stared at the parchment like he'd never seen anything like it. "Harry?"

Harry paused, then read the extremely short letter out loud. "'Dear Harry Potter, I would like to inform you that I have done as you advised and could not regret my past actions more. I would also like to speak to you on this matter and will arrive at your house on September 1, at approximately 1:00 in the afternoon. Sincerely, Tom Marvolo Riddle.'" Harry faltered before reading the post-script. "'P.S. I have broken my wand and renounced magic. You have nothing to fear from me.'"

For a few minutes, none of them said anything. Then Ron said, "Tom Riddle – as in, You-Know-Who?"

"How many Tom Riddles do we know?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. "D'you think he's telling the truth?"

Harry shook his head and crumpled the letter, "I don't know. I have a hard time believing it."

"Maybe we should send the kids to see Luna for the afternoon." Ginny suggested. "Then – in case he's not . . ." She left the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

Hermione nodded. "Hugo! Lily!" the two emerged from Lily's room where they'd been playing – with Barbie dolls by the look of it. "How would you like to go visit Aunt Luna?"

They looked disappointed. "But – Lorcan and Lysander are a Hogwarts." Lily complained.

"Yes," said Ginny. "But you can play with the Crumple-Horned Snorkack." The kids grinned and immediately ran off to do just that. The Crumple-Horned Snorkack, as Hermione had pointed out time and time again, was nothing more or less than a rare breed of knarl that Luna had discovered on one of her many Snorkack hunting expeditions. Luna maintained that while it might look like a type of knarl, looks were not everything. Lily and Hugo absolutely loved the cute and playful creature, no matter what it was.

The next hour passed slowly, with little talk. Once Hermione asked, "If he really has renounced magic – how do you suppose he's going to get here? Walk?"

"Can't, can he?" Ron answered. "He's not exactly unrecognizable."

Finally, the clock struck one. At almost the same time, the doorbell rang. Harry looked at the others grimly and answered it.

On the doorstep was a man who no one would recognize as Lord Voldemort. He was, as far as Harry could tell, an older version of the teenager Harry had seen in the pensieve, before the influence of Horcruxes. "Tom Riddle." He said.

"Harry Potter." Even his voice had changed, no longer high and cold, but much more like the voice that had charmed so many teachers and students at Hogwarts. And yet – it was different even from that. Harry couldn't put his finger on why, but it made him want to trust the former Lord Voldemort. Or at least, ended the urge to immediately put him under arrest and take him to Azkaban.

"Come in."

Riddle looked surprised, apparently not expecting any sort of hospitality, and Harry couldn't blame him – he was surprised himself.

When Riddle followed Harry inside, Ron and Ginny raised their eyebrows, shocked at his changed appearance but Hermione lowered hers, in confusion. She know more about Horcruxes than anyone else in the room – perhaps anyone in the world – besides Riddle himself, and knew that the transformation in front of her was not simply the result of remorse or regret. It was something much more.

What he did next shocked them all anew. He went down on one knee and said to Harry, "Harry Potter, I am humbly sorry for your parents deaths. I cannot give any reason for killing them for there is none, but please understand that I was a different man then, and I beg your forgiveness. Though I understand if you cannot give it."

"I –" Harry glanced at the others, as though hoping one of them would tell him it was a dream. "I don't know. I have to think about it." Riddle nodded and stood up. "You do know," Harry continued. "That even if I do forgive you – and I'm not sure if I do – the rest of the wizarding world won't. They'll want revenge."

He nodded solemnly and said. "And I wholly intend to give it to them. After coming here, I plan to present myself to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and request that I am allowed to make a public apology and then be executed for crimes against humanity. I wanted to make this apology in person."

"I am the Head of Magical Law enforcement," said Hermione. "And the wizarding world doesn't have a death penalty."

"If you had just spent nineteen years examining every crime that I committed as Lord Voldemort in painful detail, you would understand that they deserve nothing less." He told her.

"Nineteen years . . ." she murmured.

"That is how long has past?"

"Yes . . . but I'm not sure . . . I don't think that's how it's supposed to work . . ." she paused. "Your Horcruxes were destroyed – all seven of them."

"Six."

"No – seven, but the number's not important. What is important is that they are all gone and have been since Neville beheaded Nagini. The point is, remorse is supposed to help you put your soul back together, but it's not supposed to work – not completely – if the Horcruxes are destroyed."

"So, what are you saying?" asked Ron.

"I'm not sure – but I don't think that the pain of remorse could have lasted nineteen years, not if only an eighth of the original soul was still alive. Two or three years, maybe, not nineteen. And there shouldn't have been any change in appearance."

"Then what do you suggest I've been doing for the past nineteen years?"

"I think . . . you've been growing a new soul."

A/N: Well, I think this is an interesting idea - but what does it matter what I think? What do you think? Please review!