This was all just a bad dream.
I was going to wake up back on that stone floor, trapped in the dungeons. Or maybe I was cursed. What I was seeing, what I was hearing, was all an illusion. Whatever this was, it wasn't real. Voldemort wasn't asking me what I thought he was. There was no way, no sane way at least. Perhaps I was insane. Being insane was better than believing the truth.
"W-what?"
Still pinned by Greyback, Harry watched me. He was so frail, so tired. I could only hope that the temperamental, stubborn boy I had left was still in there.
"You're crazy," I said. "You're absolutely insane."
Voldemort's eyes were like knives. No one called him names and got away with it. But he didn't move.
"I don't get it," I said. "You have the Elder Wand. There's nothing to stop you."
"Yes, it seems that I do." Voldemort's skeletal fingers were as thin as twigs. His eyes were like fire. He spun his wrist, every eye in the Great Hall on the most powerful wand in the world. "And you're right, there is nothing stopping me from striking Potter where he stands."
My breath caught in my throat. Everyone paused with baited breath, waiting for him to do exactly as he threatened. Voldemort didn't talk; he didn't share more than he needed to. He killed because he liked to, no questions asked. He was the closest thing to a monster I was ever going to see. And yet, he wanted me to listen. He wanted me to know how he had won.
"Tell me, Andrea," Voldemort said, "why shouldn't I make you kill Potter right now?"
"You really don't know anything then," I said, dodging his question. Voldemort saw right through me. He smiled. "You can't make me do anything."
"We both know that's a lie," Voldemort said. My heart sank; I knew it was true. One word and I would be under the Imperious Curse. He had used it before on me, so why couldn't he do it again? Despite myself, I took a step back. As if that would make any difference.
"But I'm not going to make you do anything," Voldemort said, "not yet."
The yet hung in the air, as if Voldemort was insinuating that I had a choice. As long as I made his choice. "What do I have to do with any this?"
"Everything, Andrea," Voldemort said. "You are the reason we are here today. Everything I did, every decision that I made, has come down to you."
"Like that's not a lot of pressure."
Voldemort ignored my sarcasm. "You know the prophecy. There would be a child born from those who had thrice defied me, a child who would seek to destroy me."
Voldemort was talking about Harry's prophecy again. But Harry didn't seek to destroy anything. He was just another victim of Voldemort's greed; it was because of him Harry was who he was. James and Lily Potter had slighted him three times, and Harry was about to reach that same end.
"But, I thought," Voldemort continued, "why not create my own prophecy? Why not build my own future? If Dumbledore thought a mere child could stop me, why couldn't I fight back with a surprise of my own?"
My blood ran cold at his words. A prophecy of his own? Voldemort couldn't create a prophecy. He couldn't follow his own destiny. But Voldemort's demise wasn't written in stone; paper was as flammable as air. It was only a few wrong turns before it all went up in smoke.
"I decided that a child would be born, a child with the ability to see the unseen, to change history, to lead the world into an era, a child who would be the demise of my enemies."
"And this other child," I said slowly, "the one that can see the unseen, you think that's me?"
The one who would be the demise of your enemies, my mind echoed.
"It is nobody but you," Voldemort said. I thought of Neville, Voldemort's other enemy who could have fulfilled Trelawney's prophecy. But Voldemort had chosen Harry. Even if there was another person out there who could have fulfilled the prophecy Voldemort created, he had already forced it upon me. I was as doomed as Harry. "Your parents were more than willing to help my cause."
His words settled in my stomach like lead, but Voldemort's words seemed bitter. Something had clearly gone wrong, something Voldemort hadn't been accounting for. He had still attacked Harry's parents and lost his body. It had taken him over a decade to get that body back. Only now, years later, he had the piece he had been missing before. But Voldemort was talking about my biological parents. My magical parents. My Death Eater parents.
"So what if my parents believed in your lies?"
"Lies?" Voldemort said. His red eyes flashed. "Whoever said I lied? Your parents thought they were making way for a new world, a pure world, one that their child would help build from the ashes patrons like the beloved Dumbledore helped burn."
"But they doubted you, didn't they?" I said. Even if my parents had believed in this second prophecy, the one that would kill the Chosen One, they had had second thoughts. "Or else we wouldn't be standing here years later, would we?"
Voldemort's lips curled over his yellowing teeth. "After Potter defeated me the first time, I thought I had ruined the prophecy. So did Dumbledore. He thought that if he hid you from me, then it would not prevail."
Dumbledore had done a pretty good job if he had hidden me for fourteen years. He hadn't expected that I would return, which had been clear from the surprise on his face after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. The moment I spilled Harry's prophecy, he knew exactly who I was. He knew of my destiny. H knew that I was meant to kill Harry. He had closed the door on me in hopes of keeping me away, but the damage had already been done. But while Dumbledore had been surprised, had he been caught totally unaware? My heart ached at the thought of him. I thought of his body floating in the depths of the lake. But Dumbledore wasn't your average man. He was smart, smarter than Voldemort would ever hope to be. If Dumbledore had foreseen his own demise, he would have planned for it. He would have planned for anything that would lead to the death of Voldemort and the end of his tyrant reign. Dumbledore still had some aces up his sleeve, I just had to find them.
"But he didn't hide you well enough." Voldemort reached out as if he was going to touch me. I flinched. His fingers curled in the empty air. "You belong with us," he said. "You belong with blood."
That's all it came down to. Blood. That was all that Voldemort cared about.
By blood, I was theirs
He might want to kill me, but he wouldn't. He couldn't. No, because I was valuable to him. I was nothing but another asset, like having a werewolf or the Elder Wand.
Voldemort's secret weapon, the thing I had wanted to destroy, wasn't actually a thing.
It was me.
"Family didn't have to find you in St. Mungo's," Finnian said. After Voldemort's monologue, his voice was like a jolt of shock. "But it turned out to, cousin."
Hearing it from his lips was like a blow to the chest. "No - you lied to the healers. I'm not a Redgrave."
Finnian laughed. "We may share blood, but we definitely do not share the same name. You are nothing like a Redgrave." He said it like it was an insult.
"Goodrich isn't your real name," Voldemort said. "You must realize that by now. Goodrich is the Muggle name you were given, Andrea Ashworth."
"How do you expect me to believe you?" I said. I acted like his words didn't mean anything other than another sound of another surname on his lips, another surname that could be mine. It sent shivers down my spine, but I shrugged them off. Ashworth. Andrea Ashworth. Ashworth. "Where's your proof?"
"If you would like proof, I could provide if for you,' Voldemort said. "The Ashworth's were a very loyal family. You are part of one of the most purest wizard families in the world."
"You say that as if that's the only thing I should care about."
"You choose to mock me," he said, "but you will regret it, Ashworth."
"My name is Goodrich."
The longer I looked at the crowd, the more I realized some of the faces weren't nameless. While there were many people I would never recognize, there were some that I could. Greyback stood next to Dolohov, the same man who had cursed Hermione back in the Department of Mysteries. The two figures side-by-side looked too similar not to be related: the Carrow siblings, Alecto and Amycus. A large man that could have been Gibbon or Rowle watched with dark, hooded eyes. Yaxley was visible from over his shoulder. Crabbe Junior, still wearing his black mask, stood beside Goyle. Peter Pettigrew cowered in the corner, his silver hand gleaming under the hem of his robes.
"You can fight it all you want," Voldemort said, "but you are never going to be a Goodrich. You will never be a Muggle. You will be mine. You are a Death Eater, like your mother and your father.."
"I will be yours when hell freezes over."
Everyone was there. Everyone but -
"Severus," Voldemort held out his hand, suddenly distracted, "how wonderful for you to join us."
Snape left the Great Hall doors open behind him and walked slowly towards us. His dark eyes drifted from me to Harry. His face was grave, but void of any other emotion. Black hair hung in front of his face. When he looked at me again, it was like staring at a statue. He stopped beside Voldemort, sinking into a bow. Watching him made my anger flare. My fingers ached for my wand.
"My Lord," Snape said, rising. He didn't look at me again, taking his place beside Bellatrix. "The Order is falling."
"Good," Voldemort said. "Exactly what I wanted to hear.'
No. The Order couldn't be falling. If they fell - I didn't think Harry and I would survive the next few minutes. It was all falling into place, into the prophecy I didn't want to be true. But even I couldn't outrun destiny.
"You were my eyes and ears," Voldemort said, turning to me, "you were my spy without even knowing it, my greatest weapon ever created. You were born to destroy my enemy."
Born to destroy Harry.
I looked at him with all the emotion I would never dare to say out loud. Harry stared back at me, detached and unmoved. I had already severed whatever feelings Harry had for me, back on that day I killed Sirius. No longer was the Boy-Who-Lived in love with me. Nor would he ever be.
"Love clouds intelligence," Voldemort said, as if he could read my thoughts. "Emotions are the bane of our existence. He was only meant to love you long enough for you to kill him. And you must rid yourself of this poison before it ruins you."
He had forced me to fall for Harry; he knew I wouldn't have been able to refuse. Killing what I loved would only bound me to him. I would become what I thought I hated, what I was meant to be.
"They can still finish you," I said, still staring at Harry, "they know how to kill you.'
Voldemort laughed as if he hadn't a care in the world. "I know the secret of my horcruxes is no more. But they will never be found. And your rebels will never destroy them."
His eyes flickered to the ground, back towards the windows. As if she had been waiting for her cue, Nagini slithered forward. She was larger than I expected, a deadly weapon full of muscle.
"What if I choose to destroy them myself?"
Voldemort's laugh ceased. "Seek to destroy my horcruxes and it will be the last thing you ever do."
"I don't even have my wand."
"You of all people don't need a wand."
I thought back to the gut-wrenching feelings I had experienced within the last few months. The headless wizard I had destroyed as it tried to drag me away from Harry in the Department of Mysteries. The door in Dumbledore's office he locked to keep me from following Harry. I remembered the fireplace in the Malfoy safe house. The Death Eater, Horne, who had flown backwards as if by an invisible hand. I opened the door in the dungeons. If only Finnian hadn't been on the other side -
"I can't even Stun," I said. "What makes you think I can do everything you say I can?"
"Whatever you can't do," Voldemort said, "it's because of up here." He pointed to his bald head.
"I'm never going to kill Harry."
"You've already started killing him," Voldemort said. "Can't you see it?" Greyback's clawed fingers tensed again and Harry winced. "Harry Potter wouldn't be mine without you, Andrea. And for that, I thank you."
Harry choked, his voice nothing but air against vocal chords while under the jinx. But I could still read his lips. Andy. No.
"How do you know? How did you know about the Elder Wand? How did you know that I knew about you horcruxes?" I was beginning to see now that Ollivander couldn't have been his only captive. He possibly couldn't have known enough to tell everything Voldemort knew. There weren't many people who did. In fact, at that very moment, they were all in the same room. "Who told you? It wasn't just Ollivander, was it?"
"That old wand maker?" Bellatrix said. She laughed. "He was as useful as a sewer rat."
"Why," Voldemort said, "you did, Andrea."
It was as if someone had punched me in the gut. I staggered backwards, horrified. Above me, Voldemort and the other Death Eaters laughed. Only Snape's and Harry's expressions didn't change.
"No - you're lying," I said. He had to be lying again. That's all it was, lies. But even I didn't sound too sure of that. "But - I wouldn't. I would never - " My eyes fell on Harry. It couldn't be true.
"Would you like your memories?" Voldemort asked. He flourished his wand. The room had fallen silent again. It was like a magnet radiating off undeniable power.
"My memories?" I said slowly. "You have my memories?"
"You must have realized there are pieces missing," he said. "But I can give you those pieces back."
The pieces? Did he mean the gaps? Could Voldemort really fix my memories?
"All you have to do is ask."
All I had to do was ask. Harry's pale eyes told me no, I didn't need to know, but I ignored him. My own self greed made me as good as Voldemort. But I had to know, no matter the consequences. I couldn't live in the dark anymore.
"Please," I said. I sounded so desperate, but I didn't care. "Please show me."
Voldemort grinned, raising his wand.
The pain hit me all at once. I cried out, clutching my head. It was as if my brain was going to explode. I saw flashes of images, shouts, scream, the green and red bolts of spells.
I was staring at a white ceiling, the monitor beeping beside me with every heartbeat. The healer with the glasses hovered above me, her lips moving, but I couldn't understand what she was saying.
I saw an elderly man watering a spiky, pointed plant. Bode. He was humming to himself, his eyes glazed over. I tried to reach out to tell him to get away, but my arms wouldn't work. My eyes closed and the world went black.
I was walking down dark corridors. Someone's hand was on my arm, leading me. It was as if I couldn't control my own body. I was scared. Fear surged through me, but I didn't know why. The scene changed; it was as if I was staring into a mirror. But it was a mirror that showed the worst in me. My hair was a mess, my eyes crazed. I was dirty and tired. I curled up into the corner, my knees against my chest.
What I thought was a mirror wasn't a mirror, it was a memory. It was me, but then again, it wasn't. It was a me I couldn't remember. Only the more I watched, the more familiar it was all beginning to feel.
Shadows danced like smoke. I heard screams, my screams. I could feel the pain.
"How does Harry Potter defeat me?"
"Horcruxes," I said weakly. It didn't even sound like my voice. I was so detached, so helpless. "He will find your Horcruxes."
The figures in front of me shifted. Time had passed, though I had no idea of knowing how much.
"How do I kill Harry Potter?"
"The - " I gasped. "The Elder Wand."
"Do not joke with me, girl," Voldemort sneered. I couldn't see his face, but I recognized his voice. I was crying, but no one cared.
"Who has the Elder Wand?"
"Dumbledore."
The scene changed. I was still curled up in the corner, but I was no longer alone.
"You must forget her, Severus," Bellatrix said. Snape stood beside her, looking down at me. Voldemort was at his other side. "At least, until the time is right again."
"No." My voice was barely above a whisper. "Help me, Snape. Please."
Snape stood straight, hands clasped, shoulders back and chin up. He couldn't do anything, not with Bellatrix and Voldemort so close. He could do nothing, and I was helpless.
Bellatrix smiled. I made a small sound, a pitiful sigh of defeat. Snape's turned and, with a wave of Voldemort's wand, went slack. I was watching my only hope vanish before my eyes.
The rays of sunlight shrank. How long had I been in that cell? Voldemort was with me. He raised his wand. I shied away.
"Don't move, girl," Bellatrix said. How was she out of Azkaban? "Memory Charms are tricky business. Wouldn't want you to lose more than you should."
My eyes went foggy and unfocused. I could feel the memories draining from me, like someone had pulled a plug. There was nothing I could do as they blissfully drifted away.
The next time I woke up, I would be on the Hogwarts Express.
When I opened my eyes, I was on my knees, my head still in my hands. Everyone was watching me. I stared at the ground, the air heavy in my lungs with each shaking breath. My eyes stung and a tear fell to the floor.
"You tortured me," I said lowly, almost a whisper. I raised my head, my eyes locking immediately with Voldemort's but, for the first time, I didn't waver. "And then you wiped my memories. That day on the train - the first day I remember - you, you were there." I remembered the feeling of icy water down my back, of my body and mind becoming useless. Of course I knew what spell that was. I had even used it. I had been under the Imperious Curse, the same curse Voldemort had been threatening to put me under just minutes before.
"That honor goes to me, dear cousin" Finnian said.
"Stop calling me that," I snapped. "I am not your cousin."
Finnian smiled. "You can't deny the truth forever."
"Your memory was wiped for your own protection," Voldemort said.
"So I could protect you," I said shakily. The tears were still falling, but I couldn't stop them. "So I wouldn't spill your precious plan."
"I can help you control it, Andrea," he said. "I can help you harness your power. With me, you can achieve things you would have never even dreamed of."
Ollivander had warned me. My wand could do good magic, but it also could be used for evil. Now I knew what he had been talking about. I had two distinct choices laid out in front of me. And, sadly, I knew which one I had to take.
I realized all of those visions I had seen weren't accidental. At least, not all of them. But some had slipped through the cracks. Whatever Voldemort had done to me caused us to become connected, connected to Harry.
"Only you can save your friends."
My Muggle-born friends: Hermione, Dean, and all of the others who stood up for them . . . Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville . . . they would all be targeted. All of the ones who hadn't already managed to go into hiding would be found and killed. With Voldemort, I could vouch for them; I could save their lives in a society that was already lost. I could give them new lives, lives they wouldn't appreciate, but they would still be alive. They would still be alive, still be breathing.
But my wand had already done dark magic. If what Voldemort was saying had any sliver of truth in it, then my wand really had belonged to my father. It had belonged to a Death Eater, a Death Eater who had probably fought Harry's parents. Voldemort expected me to cave. Even if his reasoning was off-the-walls ludicrous, he still had the best playing card: fear. Those he couldn't persuade with words he persuaded with threats. He believed that I would give into my fear like everyone else had, that my hero-complex wouldn't shy away from sacrificing myself for the better good, for those filthy Muggle-borns and blood traitors. He had me pinned down and there was nothing I could do to escape.
I'll ruin her. Voldemort's words from my vision were clear in my mind, as clear as if he had spoken them aloud.
Not before I ruined him.
"Do you know why that wand doesn't work for you?"
Voldemort opened his mouth but then hesitated. I saw the uncertainty in his red eyes. That wasn't what he had been expecting me to say.
"Only its master can use it to its full potential."
"I am its true master now," Voldemort said, glaring at me through his slitted eyes. He raised the Elder Wand into the air. "I took it from the last one and threw his body into the lake."
Beside him, Bellatrix laughed maniacally. I dug my fingernails into my palm. In Greyback's chokehold, Harry went pale. Around us, the Death Eaters began to chuckle again. I wished they would all stop.
"No," I said. "You're not."
The room fell into silence as if someone had flipped a switch, despite how many people were watching. Now, the silence was tangible, the tension straining and ready to burst.
"The Malfoy boy was to be the next master of the Elder Wand. I made sure to dispose of him before he even had the chance," Voldemort said cooly. "There is no one else left who could possibly wield its power."
With my new memories surging through me, I realized how much Voldemort knew.
But also how much he didn't.
I laughed, unable to stop myself. The Death Eaters began to get nervous. Voldemort's eyes gleamed murderously. My time was running out. Harry's time was running out.
"You're so wrong."
"Tell me." Voldemort all but hissed the words through his teeth. "Who is its master? Tell me and then I will kill them."
I had the power again. At least, Voldemort thought so.
I was the child he had created that could see the unseen. The one who knew the future, his future. Voldemort had no choice but to believe me.
There had only been two other people up on the Astronomy Tower that day, two people who could have pledged the wand to themselves. I had a fifty percent shot at getting it right. Each man could cause a different reaction. But I knew the man I had to condemn, no matter the costs.
"You didn't kill Dumbledore yourself," I said. "You had someone else kill him. Why would the wand ever be yours if you didn't truly kill its last master?"
My eyes focused on the one man Voldemort would be hesitant to kill, if Voldemort was capable of feeling remorse. Snape bowed his head, his mouth set.
Voldemort's gaze dropped down to Snape's wandless hands. "No - "
That's when the front doors behind the Great Hall exploded.
The Order was here.