June 18th, 1996

A spell whizzed past Harry's head – he had barely ducked behind the massive Fountain of Magical Brethren in the middle of the Ministry of Magic's atrium – and struck the gold gates behind him. In front of him, Bellatrix Lestrange, the murderer of Remus Lupin, stood, no longer running away, but rather giggling maniacally and taunting the fifteen-year-old school boy.

"Come out, come out, little Harry!" Lestrange cackled in her patently insane sing-song tone. "What did you come after me for, th-" Her voice abruptly cut off as Harry swung around the side of the Fountain, yelling "Stupefy!" as he pointed his wand at the female Death Eater. Lestrange waved her wand and the red of the Stunning Spell bounced harmlessly off of a previously-invisible red-tinted barrier into the marble floor.

"There you are, Potter! You've finally decided to come out and play!" Lestrange shot off a few of her own spells, forcing Harry to roll to one side to dodge most of the multi-colored lights while snapping up a quick Shield Charm of his own.

Damn it, Harry thought, barely keeping pace with the older and far more experienced witch. Even after suffering a long decade-and-a-half stay in Azkaban and the physical and magical atrophy that it included, Bellatrix Lestrange was still more powerful than he was. Lestrange flicked a piece of the Fountain into the path of Harry's Reducto, breaking apart the small piece of marble but keeping the witch behind it safe.

"Just hand over the prophecy and this will all be over," Lestrange crooned as she shot a nasty looking yellow curse at Harry. He rolled out of the way of it, and grimaced under the intensity of spellfire coming from the Death Eater.

"What prophecy? It's gone – smashed back there. Looks like Voldemort's never going to find out what it said."

"What?" Lestrange looked stunned, and her wand stopped shooting out spells, though it still remained pointed in Harry's general direction. Harry, cautious as ever, kept his wand raised and used the reprieve to gather his breath and strength.

"You lie!" she shrieked. "Give it over! Give me the prop-" she suddenly cut off. "No master, I'm sorry, I tried my best, please don't…"

Harry warily looked at the likely-insane witch. "Voldemort's not here. She won't be able to help you."

"Who says I am not?" Harry whipped around at the distinctive sound of that high and cold voice, taking in the sight of the eerily-pale and snake-like visage of Voldemort. He quickly turned his wand against the Dark Lord. With a wandless flick of the wrist, Voldemort tore the wand out of the tired boy's hand, leaving it to clatter some distance away from them.

"The boy does not lie…" Voldemort turned her head towards Lestrange, who had by now crept into a nearby Ministry floo. "We will have words about this. Leave us." Lestrange nodded and with a burst of green fire was gone.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered, looking straight at the boy. "For too long you have been a thorn in my side. And now, you are alone and weak."

"Hardly."

Voldemort's eyes widened at the familiar – and hated – voice, quickly drawing her wand and flicking off a Killing Curse towards the boy-who-lived. However, with a screech, Fawkes the Phoenix descended from the ceiling of the Ministry Atrium, swallowing the curse in a single gulp before bursting into flames and ashes. Voldemort snarled as she saw Dumbledore stride out from one of the Ministry floos and quickly take a position between the Dark Lord and Harry.

"You made a mistake tonight, Tom," Dumbledore spoke, his tone harder than Harry could recall it usually being. "The Aurors are on their way."

"By which point I will be gone." Voldemort swished her black cloak a little. "And you… shall be dead." With her last word, she whipped around her wand with surprising speed, shooting a bolt of lightning at the old headmaster. Dumbledore responded in kind, and their magical bolts hit each other in the center between them, arcing wildly as each struggled to assert their magical dominance over the other. Harry, wandless and outclassed, hid near one of the floos, keeping his head down so as to avoid the wild arcs of magic that Voldemort tried to aim towards him.

Voldemort broke off the magical arcs, shooting a Killing Curse at Dumbledore, who simply stood there. For a second, it looked as if the old wizard was undefended and unprepared, and Harry wanted to cry out, to warn him. Then a metallic centaur jumped in front of the headmaster, blocking the green jet of light and exploding into hundreds of pieces upon impact. Harry gaped as he saw the Fountain of Magical Brethren magically come alive – the beings of the statue all gathered by Dumbledore, and with them as his side, he began to approach Voldemort. Furiously, the witch began firing Killing Curses at him, but each time one approached him, a magical statue jumped in front of him, taking the unshieldable curse for him.

As the last statue around Dumbledore bit the dust, the old wizard almost-lazily flicked his wand at Voldemort, shooting off a spell that emanated such magical power that Harry could feel its force from behind the spell and Dumbledore. Voldemort grunted as she conjured a visible silver shield, with the resulting impact of Dumbledore's spell on Voldemort's shield causing a deep sound that reverberated throughout the Atrium.

"You do not seek to kill me?" Voldemort snarled. "Still believing that you are above such brutality?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a person, Tom," Dumbledore replied calmly, still walking towards the Dark Lord. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit–"

"There is nothing worse than death!" Voldemort yelled, firing off a volley of brightly-colored spells. Dumbledore blocked some, redirected others, and conjured various household items to tank the rest.

"That's where you are mistaken," Dumbledore almost whispered, and in the heat of the exchange between the two most powerful magicals of the century, there was no indication that Voldemort had heard him. "This has always been your greatest weakness…" The old man almost looked sorrowful at the thought and at the furious opponent in front of him before his face re-steeled itself into an expression of strength and determination. His wand movements doubled in speed, and Voldemort found herself backpedaling under the relentless assault.

Dumbledore conjured a whip-like strand of glowing magic, flinging it across the space to wrap tightly around Voldemort. For a second, Harry thought that the duel was over and that Dumbledore had captured the Dark Lord, but quickly, Voldemort seemed to bulge under the strain of the bindings.

With a yell, Voldemort tore apart the bindings and flung an aura of magic around the entire Atrium, shattering glass and sending out a shockwave that surprised Dumbledore to the point that he took a step back – the shockwave nearly blew Harry away. Voldemort stood in the middle of the Atrium, an enraged glare on her face, before her form distorted and became a shadowy black man-shaped mass. Finally, the mass seemed to collapse upon itself, and it disappeared.

Harry moved to stand up, but Dumbledore's voice clearly rang out. "Stay where you are, Harry!" The headmaster's voice had a note of fear in it, as did his face, that scared Harry. The quietness of the hall was deafening, and nothing could be heard except for the running water of the Fountain and the weak croaking of the newly reborn Fawkes.

Then Harry's scar flared.

And Harry Potter knew pain.


June 18th, 1996

"Harry?" a voice echoed out.

Harry groggily opened his eyes, his vision taking a moment to reassert itself before coming upon the view of Albus Dumbledore. The old wizard looked at him with worry. Harry slowly made his way to sit up as a flash of light disconcerted the young wizard. He looked around.

The Atrium was now full of people, and by the robes, Harry could tell that many were either Ministry workers or Aurors. There were also several photographers – and presumably accompanying journalists – as evidenced by the flashes of light going off, many of them in the direction of the headmaster-student duo.

"She was here!" cried a voice in the crowd. "I saw her here. She was standing right there!" Another voice came from the crowd. "I know, Williamson, I know. I saw her too." A figure made its way out of the crowd, and as it approached, Harry saw it was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.

"Merlin's beard! She – she was here! In the Ministry of Magic! How – it doesn't seem possible – how can this be?"

"If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius," Dumbledore said dryly, his tone altogether pleased. "you'll find many escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparition Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them."

"Dumbledore!" Fudge gasped, his face beginning to turn a bright red. "You – here – your vigilantes – I – I –" He turned to the Aurors that surrounded him. "Seize him!" All of the Aurors, some of them veterans of the last war against Voldemort, queasily looked at each other as they glanced at the wondrous amount of destruction inflicted upon the poor Ministry Atrium and then back at Dumbledore. None of them moved so much as a muscle.

"Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men – and win again!" Dumbledore boomed in a thunderous authoritative voice. "But a few minutes ago, you saw proof of what you have deemed an irrefutable falsehood! Lord Voldemort has returned, and you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!"

"I don't…" Fudge trailed off, looking around for help as to what to say. Unfortunately for him, Lucius Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, and his sweet words and sweeter gold were of no use to the Minister for Magic in this situation. "Uh – Dawlish – Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see about that… Merlin, Dumbledore – the Fountain – what happened?" Fudge was whimpering by the end, staring at the destruction that had unfolded at the heart of the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore ignored Fudge as he helped Harry to his feet, looking over him to ensure that he was fit and unhurt. Finally, he turned toward the Minister.

"We can discuss the events of tonight after I have sent Harry back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said to Fudge.

"Harry – Harry Potter?" Fudge's eyes widened as he saw Harry stand up beside Dumbledore with the latter's help. "Wha – what's all this about?"

Again, Dumbledore ignored the hapless man, and took a small piece of rubble – a small finger that once belonged to a statue – and muttered "Portus." The finger glowed blue and grumbled for a few seconds before becoming still once more.

"Now see here, Dumble-" Fudge cut off with a whimper under the intensity of the glare that Dumbledore gave him. Moving towards the trembling Minister, Dumbledore's voice changed to the harder tone that Harry remembered vividly from the duel against Voldemort.

"You will give the order to remove Delores Umbridge from Hogwarts. You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for Rubeus Hagrid. I will give you…" Dumbledore pulled out a watch and glanced at it. "half an hour of my time tonight, which should be sufficient to cover the important parts of tonight's events. After that, I will need to return to my school. If you need any more help after that, you are welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the headmaster will find me."

Turning to Harry, Dumbledore handed the metallic finger to the boy. "I will see you in half an hour," Dumbledore said quietly to Harry. "One… two… three…"

Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook on his navel, and before he could register anything else, he was swept away – the Ministry Atrium, Fudge, the Aurors, and Dumbledore were gone before he could think about anything, and he flew forward into a void of nothingness…


June 18th, 1996

Then his feet found purchase on solid ground again, and Harry found himself back in Hogwarts. More specifically, it was the Hospital Wing, and like always, Madam Pomfrey was ready. She quickly moved from a chair-and-desk she had been sitting at to administer to Harry, and before he could say "Wingardium Leviosa", Harry found himself in a cot wearing clean new clothes. Dazed, Harry just lay there and watched as the mediwitch ran a battery of diagnostic charms over him.

"It looks like you are relatively unharmed, apart from a few minor cuts and bruises. Rest will do you the best healing. Take some time to sleep," the elderly mediwitch reported before moving back to her desk. Harry stared with despondent gloom at the ceiling, his eyes tracing over patterns that he had long since memorized.

"What, did you get slapped by a troll?" a voice floated over from Harry's other side, and he shifted his head to gaze upon the visage of Tom Riddle. For the fifteen-year-old boy, this Tom Riddle was infinitely more pleasing to look at compared to her older, more twisted self. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore a nurse's apron.

"What are you doing here?" Harry hoarsely replied. Why was she at Hogwarts? Riddle huffed a bit and messaged a side of her neck.

"Dumbledore was at the cottage when he got the message about the battle. He dragged me along here and told me to help out before leaving again." Riddle absentmindedly examined a fingernail. "I can only assume that he thinks there'll be a lot of injuries."

At that, Harry felt a swell of emotions rise up in him. Remus. The werewolf had been Harry's favorite professor thus far at Hogwarts, and their friendship was only strengthened by the revelation of his connection with Harry's parents and the secret of Sirius' innocence. He was a good fighter, but a great friend. Only now, he's dead – and I couldn't even fucking avenge him. In his mind's eye, Harry could see the Ministry's Death Chamber. Flashes of light flew around as the battle raged between the Order of the Phoenix assisted by Dumbledore's Army versus Voldemort's elite Death Eaters. He could see Bellatrix Lestrange fire a sickly looking dark yellow curse, with Sirius barely dodging it, only for it to hit Lupin's left torso. How the man yelled as he fell down and didn't stir again. The anger that he had felt as he chased Lestrange out of the Death Chamber came back in full force-

"Harry?" Harry snapped back to reality to see Riddle looking over him. He thought he saw concern in her eyes, but as he blinked, her expression hardened and what he thought he saw flitted away.

"A man died tonight," Harry spoke softly and morosely, his eyes dull as they began to moisten. "And I was too weak to avenge him." He began to tremble – though no one, even Harry, knew if it was out of sadness or anger. Riddle looked conflicted as his words, and her forehead scrunched as if she were thinking of how to respond. As she opened her mouth to give a reply, the Hospital Wing's fireplace flared and Dumbledore emerged. The two both looked at the headmaster, who glanced around and nodded to Pomfrey before heading towards Harry's bed.

"Harry…" Dumbledore began. "You will be happy to note that none of your friends suffered any lasting injuries, though a stay at St. Mungo's wouldn't be out of order." Harry's mouth twitched as if trying to pull itself into a smile, but it only looked like a macabre imitation of happiness.

"Remus Lupin is also alive." At this, Harry snapped to the old headmaster, his eyes wide, and he pushed himself up in the bed.

"What? I saw him… I saw him fall." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Alas, he has lost his left arm, and it remains to be seen whether his left leg and eye can be saved, but he will live. The Dark magic that was inflicted upon him will hinder a full recovery, but Remus will remain with us."

As if Harry were a balloon that had just been punctured, he deflated back into the bed, his limbs and body suddenly bereft of the surge of energy that had allowed him to raise himself. Riddle's expression settled back on her emotionless, stone-cold default.

"We still have many things to discuss," Dumbledore spoke, breaking the silence. He quickly conjured two chairs – one for himself and the other for Riddle – and a curtain that covered the bed. After pulling out and waving his wand slightly, he pocketed the wooden magical conduit and sighed.

"I have to apologize to you, Harry." The boy in question tilted his head.

"What for, professor?" The old man sighed again.

"Have you noticed that I have been avoiding you for the past school year? This, apart from our impromptu meeting courtesy of Miss Umbridge, has been the first time we have talked since the attack on Mr. Weasley."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I wondered a bit about that."

"You see," Dumbledore continued, his voice straining slightly. "I feared the worst after learning about your connection with Voldemort. I feared–" Dumbledore's voice cracked slightly, and he quickly recomposed himself. "I feared that Voldemort could force her way into your head, and manipulate your mind. I feared that she would steal your memories, learn valuable information about the war effort, and ultimately, possess you. This is why I had you learn Occlumency, in an effort to close this avenue of attack. It is why I distanced myself from you – in a vain effort to protect you. An old man's mistake…"

Harry didn't know what to say.

"As tonight's events have demonstrated, I was greatly mistaken. Voldemort's ultimate goal is not to kill me, but rather to kill you. By distancing myself from you, I have made you more vulnerable and less protected. I'm so sorry…"

"Professor," Harry spoke up, making the headmaster gaze upon his student. "It's… it's alright. You did what you thought was the best course of action with what you knew, and I can't fault you for that. I mean, Voldemort did end up possessing me, and even though I fought her out, it was close. You weren't entirely wrong in what you did, but if you believe you are, I forgive you." The old wizard looked gladdened by Harry's words.

"Touching," came Riddle's cold voice. The other two turned to look at her. "But what does this have to do with me? Did I even need to be here while you two worked out your issues?" Dumbledore sighed once more.

"Actually, Miss Riddle, there is a reason why I have kept you here. It is high time to intensify our efforts against Voldemort, and as such, you will be staying here, at Hogwarts, until the war is over."

Riddle's mouth opened slightly.

"It is safer for you to remain here at Hogwarts, the most protected location in the British Isles, and I have another duty for you. You must teach Harry Occlumency. I had hoped that Severus' prodigious skill in the field would allow him to better impart it to Harry (Harry mentally snorted) but it seems that this was not the case. As a skilled practitioner of both Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as not having any other responsibilities, you are undoubtedly well suited to this task."

Riddle's mouth closed and opened again as she struggled to find words to say. Harry, stunned by the turn of events, remained silent. Before Riddle could give a retort, Dumbledore looked intensely at her.

"This war will be difficult. I require your full cooperation in prosecuting it to its end and to our eventual victory." As if magically compelled, Riddle nodded, though her eyes still showed some annoyance.

"You will require an alias while you stay here at Hogwarts. While you look young enough to be a seventh-year, the name "Tom Riddle" could be detrimental if heard by the wrong people." Dumbledore thought for a moment.

"I think Evelyn is a rather nice name."