A/N: I don't not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3: The End

Tom took a step back in shock at the woman's pronouncement. "That's not possible." He told her.

"I know, but…" She trailed off again. "How old are you?" She asked suddenly.

The subject change threw him only slightly, but when he opened his mouth to answer nothing came out. "How old am I?" he murmured. The truth was that he wasn't sure. Age was, after all, only how people kept track of how long it would before they died. He'd realized that not long after beginning his quest for immortality and immediately stopped keeping track. But he knew the he – that Voldemort – had returned to power about fifty years after leaving school, when he was seventeen. Add the nineteen years that had passed since the Second Wizarding War and… "About ninety, I think."

The woman nodded – he thought her name was Hermione, Hermione Granger. She was one of Harry Potter's friends, one of those who had helped him destroy the Horcruxes. Tom grimaced just thinking about them. "That sounds right. But you don't look ninety – you look closer to fifty. The 50-year-old you might've been if you'd never made the Horcruxes." She, too, winced as she said the word. "The past twenty years that you spent reliving your memories – either repairing your soul, or growing a new one, I don't know – you didn't grow any older in those years. If anything, you lost about as much time from your age." She frowned slightly, pondering her own conclusion.

Tom was beginning to feel a bit impatient. And angry at himself for being impatient with one of those he owed so much to – she had likely seen friends, teachers, and perhaps even family die at his hands or by his cold orders. She had as much right as anyone to analyze his changes, but he was upset that she was trying to reason it out at all. What did any of it matter? Whether through repairing his soul or growing a new one, Tom was now a different person and all he wanted to do was beg forgiveness from the world – expecting none, of course – and be punished for his crimes as soon as possible.

As Hermione continued to think, confusion etching her face, Tom turned to Harry. "What did she mean, seven Horcruxes?" He was trying to distract himself from the growing irritation at Hermione. Maybe she was right and a seventh – or an eighth – of his soul was still the same as Voldemort's. Maybe this anger toward her came from there. It certainly seemed like something the man he used to be would've felt. "I only made six."

"You only made six on purpose." Harry answered. "The diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem, and Nagini." Tom was only a little surprised that Harry listed the items that had once been so precious to him as easily as he himself would've done. As Voldemort had known and understood Harry, surely Harry had known and understood Voldemort, and from that he would've ingrained the Horcruxes in his memory. "But there was one that you made by accident as well. Don't ask me how, that's the sort of thing Hermione would understand. But somehow, when you tried to kill me, you made another Horcrux…of me."

"You? But Horcruxes cannot be made by accident. It takes spells and…" He sighed. "We're different, aren't we? There's no explaining what happens around us, because nothing like it has ever happened before. And likely – hopefully – will never happen again."

Nodding, Harry murmured fervent agreement. "It's what our…connection…came from. I don't know what your end of it was like, but I could feel some of your more extreme emotions and toward the end I could even look through your eyes. Once I even did it on purpose. It's why I had to come to the clearing, that last night – and why I didn't die. You didn't kill me then. You killed an eighth of yourself."

"You seem to understand a lot more of it than I do." Tom said, glancing at Hermione – who was still lost in thought – and the other two in the room. One he knew to be Ron Weasley, who had helped Harry and Hermione destroy the Horcruxes. The other looked so much like Ron that he decided it had to be his sister. Ginny Weasley, Harry's wife. They both looked a little nervous and neither was looking directly at him, both very quiet. He couldn't blame them.

"Not really." Harry replied. "I'm mostly repeating what Dumbledore and Hermione told me. If you want more answers, ask her. She's the one who read that awful book – Secrets of the Darkest Art."

Tom had read it too, when he was thirteen. It was not from there that the longing for immortality began, but certainly what had made it an achievable goal. Awful book, Harry called it? It had been, yes, but darkly fascinating at the time. "Did she? Why?"

"It was the only way to defeat you, as far as we knew. And besides, she's always on the lookout for new knowledge. Though by choice, she would've passed over that particular subject."

"Some things shouldn't be common knowledge. Some things shouldn't be known at all." Tom growled darkly. Harry nodded again.

"We burned it, afterwards. It and all the other books about Horcruxes that Hogwarts had – all the other books that we've been able to find on the subject anywhere. If I have my way, no one will ever be able to make a Horcrux again. Ever."

Tom decided not to argue. This was Harry Potter after all – who was he, Tom Riddle, to argue with him? But he didn't believe what Harry had said. There was always going to be evil in the world, and it didn't need books and instructions to spread. Someone else would discover how to split their soul in a quest for immortality; if they didn't, they would learn something worse. But perhaps not having anything to go by would slow them. Perhaps.

"Maybe…" Hermione spoke again, and everyone turned to her. "It must have something to do with the fact that you made more than one Horcrux. I can't think of anything else. Everything I read about the…cure…for Horcruxes – there wasn't much, but everything there was, was based on making and feeling remorse for making one Horcrux." Tom remembered that to be the one shortcoming – that was how he'd thought of it at the time anyway – the one shortcoming of the books about Horcruxes. "I was surprised, when we got your letter, that you'd survived the pain at all. It's supposed to be able to destroy you if the crimes were great enough. And as you said, yours were…by no means limited to the making of Horcruxes. If, as you said, you deserve no less than death, then why did the pain not kill you entirely? The fact that you made more than one makes all the difference, I think –"

"But why does it make any difference at all?" Tom broke in. "It doesn't. The fact that I regret what I've done doesn't change the fact that I did it. And if the pain of remorse didn't destroy me, then the reason is because I knew I wasn't finished. I couldn't just die in agony in a secluded forest – no, I had to come back. I had to apologize. And once I do, then it will kill me, whether the wizarding world has a death penalty or not."

Her forehead creased in confusion again and Tom realized what it was she didn't understand. "Did you think it was gone? Nineteen years of pain, and then nothing? It's still there, Hermione Granger, less pronounced than before, but no less real. It isn't finished with me yet."

Silence fell after he finished, but it didn't last long. The front door burst open and in tumbled two children of about ten. "Mommy," said the red-haired girl. "Auntie Luna isn't even home. She left on another expedition just after she dropped off Lorcan and Lysander at the train station. She…" The girl's eyes fell on Tom. "Who's that?" she asked. Before anyone could answer – what could they say, after all? – she went on. "I'm Lily. Lily Potter. What's your name?"

For a few moments, Tom could do nothing but stare. Lily Potter? But he'd killed her years ago…and yet, it was her eyes, and Harry's. Those eyes had haunted him for the past nineteen years, and now they peered out eagerly from this child's face. "You're Harry Potter's daughter." He said quietly, putting a very slight emphasis on the last word. His daughter, not his mother. He glanced at Harry, and then answered the question. "My name is Tom." For so long, he'd hated that name, his father's name. But now, what else was there? Nothing. No matter, he wouldn't need a name for much longer. And besides, it didn't bother him anymore. "I have to go." He told Lily, before turning to the adults. "I'll come to the Ministry tomorrow?"

Without waiting for an answer, he walked out the door that the children had left open. He had expected that one of them would stop him – one was the Head of the Auror Office and another Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Surely they wouldn't just let him leave? But they did.

"Who was that?" Hugo asked as Riddle left. "Tom isn't exactly an uncommon name. And why is he coming to the Ministry?"

"Never mind, honey." Hermione answered slowly. "He has business at the Ministry."

The kids glanced at each other – partly in confusion, partly in exasperation at the unsatisfactory answer – then Lily shrugged. "Whatever. Come on, Hugo! I'll race you down the street!" Without another word, she took off out the door laughing, and Hugo followed.

Harry closed the door and said thoughtfully. "Did it occur to any of you that we shouldn't just trust Riddle to come to the Ministry tomorrow?" The others looked at him, then at each other. Ginny's mouth opened slightly in shock

"No!" she whispered, at little horrified. "It didn't, and you'd think it should have." Ron and Hermione quickly agreed.

Harry nodded. "It should've. But…I don't know. I felt almost too trusting of him from the beginning and I still fully expect that he'll come. But why? You don't think he was using magic on us? Some form of the Imperius curse? Or a Confundus charm?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I don't think so. I – I know this sounds crazy, but I believe him. I don't think he could've changed that much in appearance, without having also changed inside. I do believe that his soul has regrown and is almost completely different from what it was. And if I'm going to believe all that, I might as well also believe that he did renounce magic, which of course means that he couldn't have used any sort of curse on us."

"I agree." Ron said. "If he doesn't show up tomorrow, well, we'll deal with that if it happens, but until then I say we give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, if he hasn't changed, then why would he bother coming here to apologize?"

The next day, Riddle was waiting in Harry's office before Harry even got there. "I wouldn't have bothered you." He said. "But I wasn't sure where to go." He had definitely changed, Harry realized. Even as an eleven-year-old, Voldemort had been independent and domineering. He wouldn't have admitted to needing help even if he had been entirely lost.

Harry hesitated. "Come with me." He led Riddle through the Ministry all the way to the first floor, picking up Ron and Hermione on the way. "Normally, this would be put in the newspaper…" he said as the four got into the elevator.

Riddle shook his head. "That's not enough. Not everyone gets the newspaper, and besides, it wouldn't be out until tomorrow."

"That's what I thought." Harry paused as the doors of the lift clanged open. Almost twenty years and a new soul after the Battle of Hogwarts, but he and Riddle could still think alike? The idea startled him, but it was not nearly as upsetting as it once might have been. Thinking like your enemy was necessary in war, but that didn't mean Harry had to like it. Now, however…it wasn't that he liked it, but he wasn't particularly bothered by it either. "I'm taking you to see the Minister. I think Kingsley will be able to set something up."

When Kingsley was told that this was a matter of the utmost importance, he let them in immediately. It took a bit longer to explain everything, mostly done by Hermione, and longer still to get him to believe it. Strangely, what he had to be made believe was not so much that Riddle was truly reformed and more that the man in front of him truly was the former Lord Voldemort. Most people wouldn't know what he looked like before the effects of the Horcruxes had taken hold.

Eventually, though, he nodded. "I can do a spell so that you can be heard anywhere in the world – I can even make it translate for those who don't speak English. Only witches and wizards, of course. I can't promise that people will believe you – either who you are or what you say. They think you're dead."

"They thought that once before, Minister." Riddle reminded him. "But it doesn't matter who believes that I'm alive: after this message, I won't be."

Kingsley nodded again and performed the spell. Riddle took a deep breath and began:

"Wizards and witches of the world. My name is Tom Riddle. Twenty years ago, I was the dark wizard Lord Voldemort who caused two wars and the deaths of countless innocent people. I have not been seen by anyone since the Battle of Hogwarts that ended the Second Wizarding War. But I am alive."

All over the world, wizards and witches stopped whatever they were doing and listened, even if they couldn't quite believe what they were hearing.

"I have spent the last nineteen years in a forest in Albania, reliving every crime that I ever committed over and over. I have realized what I've done and the pain I caused – and experienced that pain myself. I do not expect that the Wizarding World can forget what I did, nor do I expect your forgiveness, but I would like you to know that I have paid for every individual I've ever hurt or killed a hundred times over, and will continue to pay for it until I die. The pain of remorse can and will destroy me. Before it does, I want you all to know that I am sincerely sorry for everything that I've done."

Riddle fell silent and Kingsley lowered his wand. Harry thought that something had changed about the man – something more. Perhaps some of the burden of his past crimes had been lifted during the apology. Perhaps he had been able to forgive himself, a little. "It is returning." He said, and Harry didn't need more explanation than that. The pain of remorse really was going to destroy him, just as he'd told Hermione it would.

Suddenly, Harry said. "I do forgive you, Tom Riddle."

Riddle smiled, then he bowed his head and dissolved.

A/N: Sorry for not updating in so long. I actually forgot about this story for awhile. But it is finished now - I hope you like how I ended it. Please review!