Disclaimer: Nope. Harry Potter still belongs to J.K Rowling.
Beta: LemonyCrosby (Love this girl XD)
Enjoy!
Chapter 3
The courses of true love never did run smooth.
-William Shakespeare
Godric's Hollow, 31 October 1981
Lightning streaked across the sky, the low rumbling of the thunder sweeping across the land. The dark clouds hanging heavily from the night sky rained its first drops, as a strong wind blew across the rows of identical houses. A strong sense of dread slowly shrouded the small town of Godric's Hollow, as the villagers remained unaware within the warmth and comfort of their house.
Inside a small Muggle-looking house, a beautiful redhead had a raven-haired child tucked under her chin; she crooned soft lullabies as she slowly rocked the child to sleep. Nuzzling into his mother's neck, the child whimpered softly, before nodding off.
The doorknob suddenly turned, opening to reveal a young man whose face creased with slight worry. He took a glance at the scene of the woman he loved most and his child, his worried gaze disappearing into an affectionate smile.
"How's Harry, Lily?" he asked, his eyes gazing at the both of them softly. "Hey there, Prongslet," he murmured lovingly, reaching over to ruffle his hair lightly.
"James! He just fell asleep, so don't wake him up please." Lily whispered, a tinge of irritation and fear colouring her tone.
Pausing for a while, she bit her lip, her eyes shifted from one end of the room to the other. Unable to contain herself, she burst out into a nervous whisper, "I don't know what got into him today, but he has been awfully restless and had cried a few times, simply refusing to sleep. Do you think…?"
James snapped up quickly to face her, his eyebrows knitting together worriedly. He shook his head slightly, desperately trying to hide his frantic.
"No, it can't be possible. Dumbledore has given us the strongest protection…" James' voice trailed off, staring at Lily wide-eyed, anxiety creeping into his hazel eyes. "Plus, how would a little baby know anything, not to mention something of this magnitude?" James blabbered on, finishing off with a nervous chuckle.
Staring at her husband's troubled face; she regretted alerting her husband unduly. Taking a deep breath, Lily replied in a wavering low voice, trying to placate him. "Maybe it is just my imagination. At least, I hope so…"
Both adults gazed at the sleeping baby shifting in his mother's embrace, each reminded of the horrible prophecy that haunted them through the days and nights ever since they knew.
The thunder crashed then, and the silent anxiety within the quiet house grew.
--
Unknown Location – Voldemort's Hideout
'I am Lord Voldemort, Dark Lord of the Wizarding World, and Dark Lords do not get defeated by stupid little children who can only wail for their mummies!' Tom Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort, thought irritably, his vein throbbing in his temple as he twirled his wand rapidly.
He had received the news of a prophecy a few weeks ago from Severus, one of his precious Inner Circle members, and it had never ever failed in irritating him with its contents. He could not believe that he even had to spend his precious time to arrange a mission just to kill the brats! Resisting the urge to rub his aching temples, he reminded himself of the presence of his followers.
Speaking of them, Voldemort raised his head slightly to view them. He had to push down his smirk rising within him when he realised that the long wait had made them even more nervous than usual.
His followers peered apprehensively at him, their eyes flickering back and forth between the twirling wand to its wielder nervously; some even followed each twirl of the wand, as though ensnared by a spell. Some had started to sweat, their sweat drops trickling down their forehead. They knew that their Lord had a mission for them, and only the snivelling rat, Peter Pettigrew, now prostrating himself at their Lord's feet, knew why the mission was held.
Voldemort turned his gaze from the mass of waiting followers in front of him, and turned his attention to the one follower, or rather, the blubbering mess on the floor, and drawled lazily, "Peter, your slobber is dirtying my floor."
Pettigrew only had the time to widen his eyes before Voldemort thundered, "Crucio!"
Screams filled the dimly-lit room, and each Death Eater watching felt glad that it was not them that the once twirling wand turned on, and not them writhing on the floor, shrieking in pain. A few younger ones at the back winced slightly, while the hardened ones merely stared dispassionately at the scene.
After a few seconds, Voldemort flicked his wand, ceasing the spell. He sneered at the now whimpering figure, hissing dismissively, "You should be glad that you are of help recently, or the Curse would have had held for more than that!"
"T-thank you, my L-lord. I-I did not m-mean to…" Pettigrew broke off, hastily wiping the floor where his face had once pressed against with the hem of his robe.
Irritation grew within him, as he glanced at the pitiful excuse of a wizard sprawled on the floor. As much as he loved control and being a Dark Lord, it had not meant that he appreciated bumbling idiots such as the one before him working for him.
With a silent growl, Voldemort turned to face the rest of his waiting followers. He allowed a feral smirk to spread across his face, feeling a vindictive pleasure at seeing some of his followers flinch or cringe.
"My Death Eaters, we will be having an extremely vital mission on this lovely evening. If this mission fails…" Voldemort purred, his voice hardening as he spoke, before trailing off. He could see his followers shivering at the deadly warning in his tone. Excellent. It won't do for his followers to be complacent after all.
With a swish of his dark crimson robe, he stood gracefully, his face twisted into an evil visage, his eyes gleaming with malice as he hissed ominously, "Leave. The Longbottoms are waiting for you…"
Voldemort waved his wand, cancelling the anti-Apparition wards for a moment.
Almost immediately, loud cracks filled the room, as the Death Eaters followed their Lord, appariting out one by one to where one of the Prophesized boys lived.
Voldemort waited for all of his followers to leave, before turning to face the filthy rat, hissing cruelly.
"Bring me to the Potters. It is time to end the second possibility of the Prophecy."
--
The old man sat in his chair, his tongue rolling about his favourite sweet – a lemon drop. Leaning back, he slowly stroked his long white beard that had not been cut since Merlin knows when. His twinkling blue eyes scanned his cluttered Headmaster's Office, his eyes stopping now and then on the Sneakoscopes and Dark Arts detectors laying idly on the shelf at the side, then on the sleeping phoenix on his left. He gave a contended sigh and closed his eyes briefly, thinking of all his achievements.
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Headmaster of Hogwarts; Founder and Secret Keeper of the Order of the Phoenix. The events that led to these achievements were mostly unfortunate, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. The dead were already dead. The ones alive were much more important.
Giving a slight frown, his thoughts turned to the Prophecy he had heard not long ago. He would never have thought that Sybil Trelawney would bestow him such a wonderful gift.
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...'
Well, well, if it was not young Harry Potter! Of course, the other choice would be Neville Longbottom, but the magical burst when young Harry was born…
There was no mistake that he was the one. Plus, Tom would most definitely choose the half-blood over the pure.
With a sad sigh, he fingered his beard slowly, giving into his morose thoughts. 'Young Harry must be the hero, but it comes with a great price. It always does.'
As much as he wanted to protect the younger generation, he couldn't afford to protect Harry. A hero has no choices. The Wizarding World has no choices.
Ruffling its feathers, the phoenix awoke, and looked at the Headmaster, his beloved master. Oh, he loved the old man, he really did. However, he couldn't really bring himself to approve of the actions he took after his glorious victory over Grindelwald, it was as though he thought himself to be the Messiah of the Muggles.
No longer could he see the wise man that thought himself as a human and as an equal to every other wizard. Now, the man only thought himself as God and self-proclaims that his actions are right and just, when some are actually mistakes.
The blind belief in the prophecy was an idiotic move, for it was well-known that prophecies made by weak Seers like Trelawney were chancy at best. Furthermore, not all prophecies will be fulfilled. Just because of this decision, Dumbledore would destroy the happy Potter and Longbottom families.
He knew that deep down, Dumbledore was still the man he used to be, and that was the only reason why he still loved the old man. However, he knew that the old man would soon harm than benefit the rest of the Wizarding World if he continued in his "For the Greater Good" plans. A life was still a life though, and there was no excuse to not protect any being.
It doesn't matter though. The dimension walker will soon arrive, and he will be there to offer his help as the world's real Saviour…
Even if he could not help the Potters and the Longbottoms. He will make everything right, and Dumbledore would be able to repent from his own mistakes.
It might not be too late.
--
The loud cracks of Apparition alerted the Longbottoms, as they rushed to the window, gasping in horror when they saw the cloaked Death Eaters swarming in.
Windows were smashed, doors were blown open. Loud, tortured screams were heard from the house as the evil cackles of the Death Eaters resounded around the manor.
The Longbottom family was destroyed that night.
--
Between Dimensions
Harry wanted to open his mouth and scream, but he could only lay still, his whole body feeling numb. Every single muscle of his was frozen, and it was as if he was Petrified, unable to move at all. His whole mind was flooded with fear; fear that he would be torn apart by the warped space between dimensions, and fear that he would not be able to see Tom ever again.
All he could see was empty darkness. So much of it that he wondered whether he was still conscious. The intense pain that hit him a few moments later changed his mind. It started within him, slowly eating him out. If he could move, he would have had screamed till his throat was raw, would have scratched and pulled at his limbs till they were dripping with blood. His whole body felt like it was on fire, with several daggers piercing through him at one go, while his mind wanted to shatter into pieces. Oh Merlin! He felt like just killing himself to get away from it.
Suddenly he felt a slight presence in his mind. Tom… His Tom.
Harry was suddenly reminded of why he was going through the unbearable pain.
For an unknown reason, they could not speak mentally, but the presence was soothing by itself. Slowly, Harry gathered his energy and tried to block out the pain. Tom's presence gave him strength, providing him the support he needed, as the pain started to distance away. He could feel their bond humming, his heart almost bursting as love flooded through him.
'We will face everything together, whatever it is that the Gods throw at us,'Harry promised himself, as the empty space in front of him began to swirl and spin, sucking him forward, the pain gradually getting stronger. Harry simply tolerated it, eyes wide as he saw a ray of light shining from a far end.
--
The loud thunder crashed, muffling the cracks of Apparition as Voldemort and Pettigrew appeared, the Lord standing confidently while the servant cowered in the shadows.
Stepping forward, Voldemort was inwardly pleased when the Potters' cottage appeared. 'Looks like Pettigrew do have some use…' he thought. Behind him, Pettigrew merely whimpered when he saw the twisted smirk appearing on his master's face.
He whipped his wand out, as he swept towards the cottage, his mouth twisting into a malicious smirk. Without hesitance, he casted a strong Blasting curse, blasting the door as it was blown off its hinges. A wail and a shriek were immediately heard from upstairs.
James Potter was standing there, horror etched onto his face, his messy black hair flipping everywhere as the strong wind blew in. His eyes were stretched wide open, disbelief filling his face as he gaped at the Dark Lord.
Suddenly, he snapped out his wand and pointed at Voldemort, his face settling into a determined expression, although fear lurked in his eyes. He shouted, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off –"
Sneering, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at him, which he hastily dodged by dropping onto the floor. Snapping his wrist, he pointed his wand at Voldemort as he shouted, "Reducto!"
Voldemort lazily flicked his wand, creating a shield that easily bounced the spell off. He stepped a step back when another curse flew at him. Giving his wand another flick, he sent a non-verbal spell flying towards James Potter who was now standing.
James twisted his body sideways to avoid it, at the same time casting a non-verbal jinx towards Voldemort, determination set in his face. Before the jinx hit Voldemort though, he casted another three spells at him.
Voldemort had managed to avoid the first, second and third, but the fourth grazed him on his cheek, leaving a trace of blood.
He sneered at James Potter, his voice malicious as he drawled, "Well, well. It seems that your auror training paid off, didn't it, Potter."
Giving a growl, Voldemort concentrated and gathered up more of his magic and before James Potter did anything to defend himself, he casted three Killing Curses at one go.
Shocked by his power, James stood rooted on the ground, allowing all three curses to hit him, effectively silencing him. James crumpled to the ground, his face carved into an eternally terrified expression.
Slowly, Voldemort made his way to the staircase, and ascended the stairs. He heard the stumbling of feet across the landing above, and the incessant wails of the baby.
Flinging open the door where the second prophesized baby lay, he let out an evil cackle as he saw the red-headed mother trying to protect her child by standing in front. How useless.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!
Slightly irritated, Voldemort cooed, "Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now."
Lily begged, her eyes filling up with tears. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead. Please … have mercy …"
Now incensed, Voldemort slashed his wand across the air, thundering, "Avada Kedavra!"
The curse hit her, and life seeped out of her emerald eyes, as she slumped on the floor, her red hair partially covering her face. The wails rose even higher in volume and pitch, if that was even possible.
Voldemort stepped over her body, snorting as he took a look at the foolish woman. Turning to face the small crying baby lying in the cot, Voldemort's features contorted into a mocking smirk as he crooned softly, "Well, well… It seems like the Prophecy Boy is not all that powerful isn't he."
Taking two steps back, he poised his wand in front of the young child's forehead, and murmured cruelly, "Avada Kedavra!"
Green light flashed, zooming towards the crying boy.
--
Pain. His mind was flooded with agony, the blinding sensation flushing over his whole body. Pain. He could almost feel his bones were breaking into tiny, crumbling pieces. Pain. His eyes were rolling to back at the mind; his brain was shattering into fragments. Pain. He was quite sure his limbs were in a bent position, crooked at the areas where he felt his bones break.
Like many times before, he tried to stretch his mouth open to scream, although he knew his muscles most likely would not.
His mind registered vague surprise when his mouth finally opened, his eyes finally able to roll back at the intense pain as the former darkness was swamped with swirling balls of lights. He could feel Tom's hand clenching his own, as the both of them were yanked towards the opening, where all the lights were streaming from.
Screams of pain and surprise poured from both of their mouths, immediately dissipating into the empty space around them.
Light flooded around them, and suddenly, they were through. There was no more pain. Flashes of scenery passed them, as they were pulled swiftly towards a certain location. He could not see his surroundings well, but he knew they were no longer in their dimension. Their journey had started.
Slowly, Harry's eyes adjusted to the rapidly changing scenes, and began to see more of the areas they were passing by.
It was so different. In their world, wizards wore only robes and wizarding wear. However, he could see… Muggle clothing on them? Harry nearly gagged at the thought of the Muggles. They were the ones who made his life hell, though he probably should thank them, for it was them that allowed him to meet Tom.
Looking around, he noticed that the area they were in looked like Godric's Hollow in their world. It was where he was born in the other dimension, and he heard that his father only loved the area because it was where one of the Hogwarts founders, Godric Gryffindor was born.
He supposed that it was the same in this dimension.
Suddenly turning, he knew instinctively that they were heading towards the only house that had its door open, banging wildly in the wind. A man was crouched beside the doorway, head bowed as he shivered. He didn't recognize the man, but Tom seemed to, what with the sudden growl he let out.
"He's a traitor to your dead parents, though he was killed by your late godfather."
Harry did not question any further. He didn't want to know.
They were pulled in through the front door and up the stairs, before coming to a sudden halt. Their souls floated above a scene that their eyes quickly adjusted to see; a scene Harry never thought he would see.
The little child that resembled a miniature Harry Potter lay on the cot as he cried, probably for his dead mother, likely to be the woman lying dead on the floor, her eyes blank. She vaguely resembled Harry's own mother, but he could not be sure, after all it had been years since she had been alive. Pointing his wand was a tall man, looking exactly like Tom that Harry heard himself and his lover beside him gasped in surprise.
It was a scene of murder, so full of cruelty. If Harry had not been trained in controlling his emotions, he would have cried; cried not because of the young boy, but because of the black soul this dimension's Tom Riddle had.
His Tom could kill, yes, but not without remorse. His Tom could be cruel, yes, but not towards young innocent children. The stench of death was so thick in the air, the sense of doom permeated in every corner. Harry felt nauseous. The baby simply cried louder and louder, his wails not affecting the cold-hearted man standing in front of him.
As though sensing what he was thinking, Tom floated over, murmuring softly in his ears, reassuring him. "I'm not him. I will never be."
Watching the Killing Curse flying towards the boy, Harry suddenly felt himself being pulled towards the child. Their linked hands broke apart, and Harry's soul touched the young child's at the same moment when the Curse struck him.
Slowly, his soul was pulled further into the young body, the green light enveloping them. He could not feel anything, but he thought he could hear the soft screams and wails of the dying soul within the young baby.
When he was fully in, he experienced a paralyzing shock across his head. His temples started to throb with extreme pain, head spinning agonizingly, his eyes blinded by the bright Avada Kedavra green light.
Distinctly, he heard the loud screams coming from the murderer, as he saw part of the killing curse mix with all the magic his soul created when he took over the dying baby Harry and bouncing back, hitting him head on.
At the same time, Tom's soul began to make his way to the monster.
He felt their bond being strained as Tom's soul began to enter into the body, before agony flooded down the bond, as he sensed in terror when his lover's soul began to separate into several pieces.
Before he could do anything or think of why though, his previous life was suddenly flashed out in front of him, one scene following the other; one memory presenting itself one after the other. To his horror, the memories disintegrated almost immediately after appearing within his mind, leaving a trail of shimmering dust dancing in the empty space of his memory.
The pain was unbearable, and yet he reached out desperately, hoping to capture the floating particles, hoping to piece them back together. He couldn't lose Tom, he couldn't lose everything. He felt tears streaming down from his eyes, his whole mind in a total blur of despair and bewilderment. As if Fate was playing a trick, the dust slowly disappeared before him, leaving only his mind reaching out for nothing but empty air.
The anguish he felt only doubled when the strained bond between the broken pieces of souls of his lover's and his own soul snapped apart, leaving the empty space swirling in his heart. He had never felt so empty before; his heart breaking into tiny pieces as he felt the loss of his mate.
Everything was going wrong. So very wrong.
His eyes rolled back as the destruction of the images increased, until the point when the last memory burst into dust, leaving the faint imprint of the existence of his lover that he desperately clung on, did he black out.
A last thought flashed across his mind, 'I will make this all right again... Tom, I love you.'
On the other end, seven souls glowed as they thought of the same thing.
They were soul mates, and no matter how much obstacles Fate wanted to place in their way, they would prove to her that they were meant to be together by knocking every single one of them down.
Revised: 1/1/10
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- Myxa
