He stumbled down the stairs, to the bedroom on the third floor. He needed to get away, he had to calm down; his heart was pounding and he could barely breathe. Everything was closing in on him, and he could feel his magic pulsing, threatening, ready to lash out again -
"Harry!"
He spun around and looked at the painting; Tom had followed him. "Go away!" he gasped. Shaking, he grabbed his Cloak, throwing it over himself, preparing to Apparate.
"Wait! Don't - "
But Harry didn't hear the rest; he Apparated to Godric's Hollow, the first place he could think of, tumbling down in front of his parents' grave, his chest heaving. He lay on the ground, panting, trying to catch his breath.
After a few minutes, he started to calm down. When he could breathe normally again, he sat up and looked around. The graveyard was quiet, deserted.
He stayed there for a while, not talking, not thinking, just sitting quietly. The storm had passed. The sun was shining. He could hear birds chirping. It was peaceful. Grimmauld Place suddenly seemed far away; there was only here and now, no worries, no troubles.
Eventually, Harry got up. It felt like he was in a dream. He began to walk, through the graveyard, past the gate, past the church, then onto the street.
The pub was open; Harry could hear the people inside as he walked by. Villagers were milling about in front of the shops but he was invisible under his Cloak and he made his way past them unseen. He continued on, walking down the lane, past the row of cottages, all the way to the end where his parents' house was. It looked different in the light of day, without the snow that had been there at Christmas; the overgrown grass seemed even more unkempt, the ivy-covered cottage seemed more ramshackle. He looked at the blown-out top floor, and swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.
What would his life have been like if Voldemort had never existed?
He allowed himself to imagine it: He'd be finishing his final year at Hogwarts, busy studying for his N.E.W.T.S.; and James and Lily would be living here in this house, with Sirius visiting often - perhaps roaring down the street on his motorbike ...
He shook his head. It was no use thinking of what might have been: Voldemort had existed - and still did - and there was no escaping it. Harry had thought it was over, but it wasn't. Voldemort would live forever now, in the portrait; he had found a way to achieve a form of immortality after all, and Harry was stuck with him, again.
And then there was Tom. Harry was stuck with him too ... but ... it was different with Tom. He still had his humanity; he wasn't the monster that Voldemort was. There was a chance that he could be redeemed. He had regretted killing his grandparents; Harry had seen it. He was a murderer, yes, but he didn't take it lightly - not like Voldemort.
With a heavy sigh, Harry turned away from the house. He began to walk, down the lane, past the next row of cottages and then past the next one.
Was it only yesterday that everything had changed so dramatically? So much had happened, in such a short span of time. It wasn't just Tom and Voldemort that he'd inherited; he'd found out he was also the Black Heir; he'd found out he had family in the wizarding world. Dumbledore had lied to him, once again. He had manipulated Harry and everyone in the Order, and kept Harry's true heritage a secret. Was there no end to the old man's machinations? The careless, ruthless disregard made Harry sick. Dumbledore hadn't cared about Harry's rights. He'd needed Harry to be his puppet, an instrument to be used; and with his lies and manipulations, he had shaped him and made Harry exactly what he'd wanted him to be.
And Voldemort - he had shaped Harry equally. Harry had been Dumbledore's puppet, but he'd also been Voldemort's Horcrux - a part of Voldemort's soul had lived inside him for nearly all his life ... Who knew how that had influenced him? Was that why his aura had been so dark and his eyes glowed after he blew up Aunt Marge? Was that Voldemort's influence? Or was that Harry himself? He, Harry, was still a Parselmouth, after all, even without the soul fragment.
He continued walking, lost in thought. He had reached the end of Godric's Hollow and was now walking along the country road outside the village.
Who was he, without Dumbledore's machinations and Voldemort's influence? It was a question Harry kept asking himself, but he didn't know the answer.
He walked for another mile or so, until he reached the edge of the next village.
There was no point in going further, and he was tired of walking, so he steeled himself to go back to Grimmauld Place, then Apparated home.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Back in the bedroom on the third floor, Tom was in the painting, waiting for him. "Where have you been?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Harry said, sitting down on the bed. He felt drained.
Tom gave him an assessing look. "You shouldn't Apparate when your magic is out of control," he finally said. "You're lucky you didn't splinch yourself."
Harry shrugged. "I needed to get away."
Tom sighed. "You can't let Voldemort get to you like that. It's what he wants, and you're letting him win. He wants to inflict as much misery as he can on you, and on me. He knows your weaknesses, and he's going to exploit them. He enjoys it - he revels in it."
"I know!" Harry said curtly, annoyed by Tom's didactic tone.
"He wants to punish you for defeating him. He's going to try to provoke you at every opportunity. You can't let him affect you - "
"It's not that easy!" Harry interrupted angrily.
"And showing him your memories is only giving him ammunition," Tom continued. "Whatever knowledge he can gather from you, he'll use."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. He felt defensive. He didn't need Tom lecturing him and pointing out his mistakes. "What about you?" he said aggressively, his temper flaring.
"What?"
"Isn't that what you're doing too?" Harry asked. "Gathering information to use as ammunition?"
Tom froze and his face grew impassive. "Is that what you think?" he asked coldly.
"Yeah, maybe. Maybe you're just doing it in a different way, acting friendly, trying to butter me up."
Tom's eyes narrowed.
"It's more effective, isn't it?" Harry went on belligerently, picking up steam. "That's how you are, Riddle, I know you. Don't forget, I met the Diary Horcrux. That was you, and you acted all friendly, like you were trying to help me, and then you tried to kill me." Harry laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. "I don't know what I was thinking. I thought you were - I don't know - I thought that I'd got you wrong. You seemed different; but that was only in comparison to Voldemort. But you are Voldemort, just the younger version - "
"I AM NOT VOLDEMORT!" Tom bellowed. He looked furious. "Don't you dare say that I'm him! You know nothing, Potter! You have no idea - " He broke off, his face going cold. "You have no idea who I am. You have no idea what it's like for me," he said, his voice rising again. "Don't you dare say I'm like him! I'm nothing like him!" he said fiercely.
Before Harry could say anything, Tom turned and stormed out of the painting.
Harry let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't even sure he'd meant what he'd said; he'd lost his temper and lashed out at Tom, because he was angry and embarrassed that he'd let Voldemort get to him. Harry certainly didn't trust Tom and he didn't know whether Tom's friendliness was genuine or a manipulation but he did know that Tom wasn't Voldemort. Even his mother had said so, and she would know. It hadn't been fair to say that.
He sighed again. He would have to find Tom later and apologise, after they both had time to cool down.
In the meantime, he would do something he'd been putting off. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the Charmed Galleon. "Are you busy?" he sent to Hermione. "Have you and Ron had lunch yet?
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Ron and Hermione came over shortly after.
"Did you hear?" Ron said after they'd all sat down at the table in the kitchen. "The Malfoys were attacked."
"What?" Harry said, startled.
"It happened this morning," Hermione said. "Draco and his mother had gone to Gringotts and when they got outside, a mob of angry wizards surrounded them. They managed to get away, but Draco was hit with a few curses. I think he's okay though."
Harry felt sick. "The war is over!" he said angrily. "Hasn't there been enough violence? They were pardoned. Why can't people just let it go and move forward?"
"A lot of people can't forget that Voldemort was headquartered at Malfoy Manor," said Hermione. "And Narcissa and Draco were Death Eaters, even if they were pardoned. Tempers are still high."
"If you ask me, Malfoy got what he deserved," Ron said.
"Ron!" Hermione said sharply.
"I still don't get why you testified for Malfoy anyway, mate," he said to Harry. "He was going to turn you over to Voldemort. The only reason he didn't was because Crabbe set the Fiendfyre."
"No, I don't think so," Harry said, remembering what he saw in his memory the previous day. "I don't think he would have."
"You're bonkers! Of course he would have - "
"I saw him through the connection with Voldemort a few times," Harry said quietly. "He was not serving willingly, trust me."
"Yeah, but he was trying to save his own arse, that's my whole point - "
"Ron," Hermione snapped. "Leave it!"
"All right, fine!" Ron shot back angrily. "You two might have forgiven him, but I haven't! As far as I'm concerned, he should be in Azkaban."
Kreacher came over to the table and began setting down platters of food, putting a halt to the conversation. There was roast chicken with gravy, roasted potatoes, peas and carrots, and Yorkshire pudding.
Ron perked up at the sight of it. "Blimey, that looks good," he said.
"Yeah, thanks, Kreacher," Harry said.
The house-elf bowed in acknowledgement and scuttled off.
"So ... what happened yesterday?" Ron asked, after they'd served themselves. "What did you find out at Gringotts?"
Harry told them about his meeting with Argrod and what he'd learned.
"Merlin!" Ron cried when he'd finished. "How come Sirius never said anything about it? He never mentioned that your dad was Walburga's cousin?"
"No, Dumbledore made him swear not to tell me," Harry said flatly. "He made everyone in the Order keep it a secret."
"But why?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Isn't it obvious? Why do you think? Because the Blacks are a Dark family and he didn't want me getting any ideas. He needed me to be isolated and dependent only on him," he said bitterly.
"Oh, Harry!" she cried, looking at him with a pleading expression. "He did care about you. Dumbledore did a lot of things that were ... questionable, but I know he cared about you."
"Bloody hell, Hermione, what does that matter?" Ron said. "He had no right to keep that from Harry!" He cast Harry a sympathetic look. "That's messed up, mate. It really is."
"Yeah. Anyway ... apparently he had Sirius cast some kind of Charm on the Black Family Tapestry to hide my dad's name - although it was scorched out anyway. Phineas Nigellus told me. But Dumbledore insisted even the scorch mark be obscured, in case I ever saw Charlus Potter's name on it and started asking questions." Harry shook his head. "I wish I could restore the family tree back to its original state. I want to remove the Charm, first off - but if it's possible, I'd also like to reinstate everyone who was blasted off: Sirius, Andromeda, my dad, and everyone else really." He looked at Hermione. "Do you have any idea how I can do that?"
"Hmm ... I don't know," she said, her expression turning thoughtful. "Did Phineas tell you what the Charm was that Sirius used?"
He shook his head. "I'll look into it and see what I can find," she promised.
"She can do it after she gets back from Australia," Ron said after a beat. "She's going to go to Australia to look for her parents," he said to Harry.
"Ron!" she cried, giving him a vexed look.
"When?" Harry asked.
"I haven't decided yet." Her voice was strained. "Ron thinks I should go as soon as possible. But I'm not sure."
"Why not?"
She looked down at the table and didn't answer.
"Hermione ...?"
After a long pause she looked up again. Her eyes were swimming with tears. "Maybe my parents are better off without me," she whispered.
"What? How can you say that?" Harry cried.
"They don't know that I exist anymore - and they're probably happy now," she said, her voice trembling. "It wasn't easy for them, being Muggles and having a witch for a daughter. They accepted it, of course ... but it was hard for them to let me go and live such a huge part of my life in a world they didn't belong to or really understand."
Harry and Ron stared at her. She had never really spoken much about her parents during their time at Hogwarts.
"They didn't know much about ... the things we went through. I didn't want to worry them - plus, if they had known, they might not have let me continue at Hogwarts. And then they were in danger, because of me - because of our world. When I modified their memories I intended to go look for them in Australia after the war was over ... but now - " She broke off, and let out a sob. "I know Voldemort's dead and the Death Eaters are in Azkaban but ... maybe they're better off where they are - wherever they are - " She broke off again, covering her face with her hands as she let out another sob.
"Hermione, they're not in danger anymore," Ron said gently. He put his arm around her and rubbed her back. "It's over. It's all right now. Right, Harry?" He looked at Harry, his eyes beseeching him to reassure her.
"Right," Harry said, swallowing, his throat suddenly tight. Hermione was blaming herself for putting her parents in danger, but really, it was Harry's fault, wasn't it? "It's safe now," he forced himself to say, trying not to think of Voldemort upstairs. "You should go find them and bring them home. They're your family, Hermione. You have to go."
"And I'll be coming with you," Ron said. "You're not going to be doing it alone. I'll be there to help you."
Hermione let out a shuddering breath and took her hands away from her face. "But you need to be with your family," she said to Ron. "George - "
"There's nothing I can do for George right now," he said firmly, a look of sadness flickering over his face at the mention of his brother. "He's in his own world these days, shut up in his room, not letting anyone in. He's grieving in private, which is maybe what he needs to do. I can't help him right now. But I can help you."
She gazed at Ron, her expression turning more hopeful. "Really?" she asked, her voice a whisper.
He nodded. "Of course. I'm going with you and that's that."
Her face lit up and she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. When she let go, she turned to Harry, and then her face fell. "But ... you need me, Harry. I don't want to leave you when you're going through all this - "
"I'll be fine," Harry said. "Honestly. I want you to go too."
"We can wait a little longer - "
"No," Harry said. "Really, I think you should go as soon as possible."
She gave him a meaningful look that he understood to be in reference to their earlier conversation. "You're sure?" she asked.
"Absolutely," he said, in a way he hoped conveyed that he'd got it. She nodded, understanding.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Harry grinned at her, then looked at Ron; he was beaming at the both of them.
"Thanks, mate," he said.
"So ... where in Australia are they, do you think?" Harry asked.
"Somewhere in Sydney, hopefully," she said. "It's a huge country. But I did cast a tracking Charm on them; I should be able to find them once I'm there." She turned to Ron. "We'll have to get a Portkey, I think, and - oh, but do you think your parents will let you go?"
"I'm an adult now, Hermione, I can do what I want," Ron said. "But I'm sure they'll be supportive. They'll understand - it's your family."
Hermione nodded happily and began rattling off a list of things they would need, reaching into her bag and pulling out a parchment to make notes.
Harry smiled at her fondly, but he was thinking about Voldemort and Tom now. It was good that Hermione and Ron were going away for a bit; he had a lot to sort out and he would need space to do it.
After they finished their lunch, Ron and Hermione left for the Burrow to tell Ron's parents.
Harry saw them off, then headed upstairs to look for Tom.