Epilogue: Choice

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"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

— Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

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Three Hundred Years Later

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King's Cross Station was unreasonably crowded for the early hour. Scorpius held tight to little Meissa's hand as he scanned the crowds of Muggles and magicals alike. Her parents were just behind him, murmuring quietly to each other. Meissa's birth mother, Malika, was only a Malfoy by marriage, but she was a Malfoy nonetheless.

It was tradition for Scorpius, as head of the family, to accompany each child to the Hogwarts Express for the first time. It was a tradition that had begun with his own firstborn, Lyra, and his father, Draco.

Both Lyra and his father were now long gone, but Scorpius remembered them fondly and revisited his Pensieve memories of them often.

With the subtle application of wandless magic, Scorpius repelled the crowd of Muggles, parting an easy path for him and his family. In short order, they approached the barrier that led to Platform 9 and 3/4.

"Are you ready, little one?" Scorpius asked, glancing down at his small companion. He had not done this for all the Malfoy children, but Meissa was a self-admitted favourite of his.

Meissa bobbed her head, grinning with a wide smile that revealed her missing front tooth.

Hands held, they ran through the wall.

This side was just as busy as the Muggle side. Scorpius recognized many familiar faces as he and Meissa moved aside to allow her parents entrance. Malika and her wife came to put their arms around their daughter; Scorpius gave Meissa's shoulder a squeeze before he pulled away.

Amongst this crowd, there was no need to use magic. People were very willing to move aside for the Minister of Magic. Scorpius greeted a few families here and there, hand shaking and reacquainting himself with old friends.

Behind him, Meissa and her parents followed at a more sedate pace, taking in the splendour of the Hogwarts Express. The train was just as beautiful as Scorpius remembered it to be on his first day of Hogwarts.

They came to a stop near where the luggage was being loaded onto the train.

Scorpius turned to face Meissa. She was the eldest daughter in her family. Her younger siblings, currently infants, would not come to Hogwarts for some time yet.

Meissa was intelligent for her age, curious and spirited. Seven generations spanned between them, but Scorpius considered her to be as close to him as any other member of his family.

"I'm very proud of you," Scorpius told her. "You were very brave to run through the barrier with me."

"I'll be Gryffindor, says mama," Meissa said. "Do you think so, too? Mother told me you were a Slytherin. And it's in my textbook."

Scorpius smiled, indulgent. "Don't mind about me, little one. If you go to Gryffindor, then Gryffindor will have gained an excellent student, don't you think?"

Meissa beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Yes! I think I will be Gryffindor, then. Lions are very beautiful creatures."

"Beautiful and brave," Scorpius agreed. "The best man I've ever known was a Gryffindor."

Meissa wrinkled her face, quirking her head to the side. "How can someone be the best, Uncle Scorpius? Mama says that everyone is created equal, and that we should not compare ourselves to others."

"By having a very big heart." Scorpius touched his own chest to demonstrate. "Big enough to love many, many people."

"Like you?" Meissa asked. "Because you love all of us?"

"I do. I love you all very much." Scorpius knelt down and smoothed a hand over Meissa's shoulder. "And should you ever need my help, you can always send me an owl."

Meissa nodded, her expression now serious. "Mother got me an owl for Hogwarts. I've named her Hestia, after the ancient goddess."

"Very good." Scorpius held out his arms. "May I have a hug before I go?"

Meissa complied, wrapping her small arms around Scorpius' neck, squeezing with all her might.

Scorpius laughed and patted her back. "I see you have the strength of a lioness already."

Meissa giggled in response, kicking her feet up off the ground momentarily as she rested her weight on Scorpius' capable shoulders.

"Come now, Meissa," Malika said, gesturing for her daughter to withdraw. "Time to say goodbye! Your uncle has some very important business to attend to. Let's go and find Clarice and her family."

"Okay. Goodbye, Uncle Scorpius!"

Scorpius waved goodbye to the little family. He would have liked to stay longer, but he had an important appointment to make.

The squeeze of Apparition was uncomfortable as ever when Scorpius landed in Godric's Hollow.

After over three centuries, the act of disappearing and reappearing never failed to disorient him. Which was ridiculous, really, because he could fly perfectly well on a broomstick no matter the weather, yet something as simple as Apparition could throw him off balance.

Reaching into the largest pocket of his robes, Scorpius withdrew the fabled Cloak of Invisibility and donned it. He did not want to be followed now, and the Cloak would provide him the highest level of protection, superior to the most powerful charms and potions.

The ground at his feet was littered with leaves and twigs, autumn's offerings scattered along the grass and pavement as Scorpius walked up to the tall metal gate.

Less people lived in this area now. Godric's Hollow was mainly home to retirees who remained with their inherited properties. Most magical families had chosen new settlements for their homes, areas that were hidden away from Muggles. There were secret caches all over Britain that had been magically expanded to fit entire communities.

Passing into the graveyard, Scorpius took a moment to compose himself. He had been the Minister for Magic for only eight years, and this would be the first time he undertook this trip on his own.

His friend and mentor, Theodore Nott, had chosen to pass on three years ago. Scorpius felt that loss very keenly as he strode down the route that would take him to the Potter family graves.

This entire graveyard was well-kept, secretly preserved by magic. One person's magic in particular.

Scorpius knew the story well.

When Harry Potter had passed away from natural causes, Scorpius was sure their nation had never known such sorrow. Harry was the unrivaled counterpart to their Lord, a kind soul who had a smile for all and room in his heart for many.

When his Uncle Harry had died, Scorpius had known the world would never be the same again.

How could it, when the man that Scorpius had looked up to, had idolized as a role model alongside his own father, was gone?

But worse yet, the impact of Harry's death on the one who led them all.

Harry had assisted the Dark Lord for centuries, long before the cure to death had been discovered in the Department of Mysteries. It was clear to Scorpius that Harry cared very deeply. There was a tenderness to the way Harry held himself around the Dark Lord, a fond exasperation that existed in those bright green eyes.

The Dark lord was a private man, but when Harry was near him, his smile seemed lighter, more genuine. Softer, even.

Where the Dark Lord went, Harry would follow—perhaps mildly irritated, at times, but willing all the same.

From all the attention the Dark Lord gave him, one would have thought Harry Potter was the most captivating man in the world. Only Harry was allowed to interrupt, to talk back. Only Harry was permitted to stand near, to lay a gentle hand on the Dark Lord's forearm.

It was no wonder that the Dark Lord had been by Harry's side until the bitter end.

In the days following Harry's death, Scorpius had expected harshness, cruelty, a callback to the stories of old that Theodore had impressed upon him. The true, bloody history of their peaceful nation. With a man as powerful as the Dark Lord, there could only be retribution. Scorpius had seen what terrible fates befell those who threatened Harry Potter.

Unfortunately, there had been no blame to point fingers at for Harry's death. There had been no miracle moment when the Dark Lord convinced Harry to live on.

Scorpius had been so sure that his beloved Uncle Harry would choose to stay. If not for Scorpius and his family, then for the Dark Lord, who loved Harry more dearly than anyone else.

But Harry had chosen death, had greeted the end with a satisfied smile.

Scorpius had not understood.

Just before the funeral, Theodore had taken him aside and explained.

Long ago, before Scorpius had been born, there had been a prophecy. This prophecy, stricken from all Ministry records and erased from all history books, had spelled the fate of the Dark Lord and his consort, Harry Potter.

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The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

born when the seventh month died, the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…

he will defy the Dark Lord thrice, and he will become the Dark Lord's greatest challenger…

he will live while the Dark Lord reigns, and the Dark Lord will rule as long as he survives…

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Theodore had explained how Harry and the Dark Lord began as enemies, had fought opposite each other in a war.

Harry had been taken captive during this war.

From there, the tale had spun on, with only the barest of glimpses into the private lives of the two most powerful men in the world, those two who had cracked the secret of the Elixir and eternal life. But the picture was whole: regardless of how far apart Harry and the Dark Lord had been at the start, they had ended up together.

Scorpius, who had only ever lived in a world of harmony, in a nation free from war, had difficulty with this concept. Harry had been a prisoner. How had he grown to love and forgive the man who had killed his parents?

Theodore had shaken his head. Relationships were rarely so simple, and the bond between the Dark Lord and Harry Potter was the most complex of them all.

Scorpius could only think of his own parents. How they looked at each other, love radiating in every direction. An expression of love that Scorpius could recall with great clarity, even now. Even though his parents had chosen to pass together many, many decades ago.

Harry and the Dark Lord had gazed upon each other in a similar way, in the way Scorpius associated with love.

Scorpius believed that it had to be love. There could be no other explanation. What force more powerful could there be, to change the hearts and minds of two who had been slated as foes?

When Harry had died, the Dark Lord mourned along with them all.

It had to be love.

What else could explain what had come next?

Scorpius paused in his thoughts as he spotted the white marble headstones in the distance. A cloaked figure holding a large bouquet of white lilies was standing there. As Scorpius approached, the figure turned to face him.

"Scorpius."

Pure instinct fueled the way Scorpius bowed at the waist, an ingrained sign of respect to the man who Scorpius would have called family if not for the firm feeling of distance that held between them.

"None of that, Minister," said the Dark Lord. "Stand proud before your elders. And remove your Cloak."

Scorpius removed the Cloak of Invisibility, flushing at the admonishment. There remained few people on this earth who could trigger such a reaction in him. The Dark Lord was one of them.

Once upon a time, Harry Potter had been another.

The Dark Lord placed his lilies down upon the grave, in front of the smaller stone that rested next to the larger one of James and Lily Potter.

Harry had wished to be buried here, next to his parents. Reunited at last. The implication of the inscription on the Potters' joint tombstone was not lost on Scorpius, who could sense the waves of melancholy emanating from the Dark Lord.

"How are you, sir?"

"I am well." The Dark Lord sounded faintly amused by the pleasantries, and Scorpius wished that Theodore was here to guide him through this conversation.

Their Lord had always held Theodore in high regard. Scorpius suspected there was another story there, but he had never thought to ask after it. Now he regretted it, however, for here was a secret he would never uncover, a life lesson he might never learn.

Though Scorpius had accumulated a great deal of wisdom over the years, he could not help the inadequacy he felt given the role he now filled.

Some days, Scorpius felt like a child standing in the shadows of giants.

The grave was silent upon receiving the Dark Lord's offering, as was expected. Scorpius gazed upon the headstone to distract himself, then scolded himself for doing so. This meeting was a rare occasion, and here he was, spoiling it with his own anxieties and preoccupations.

With a wave of his wand, Scorpius summoned the bouquet he'd brought with him. A mix of various flowers: white blooms, irises, and lavender. He placed them down next to the lilies, then took a step back.

To his left, the Dark Lord stood, stone-faced and contemplative.

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HARRY JAMES POTTER

BORN 31 JULY 1980

DIED 15 OCTOBER 2305

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Once every five years, the Dark Lord would visit this grave and deposit a fresh bouquet of white lilies.

This would be the Dark Lord's seventh visit since Harry's death, and Scorpius had never witnessed any change in the man's demeanour. Even now, the Dark Lord still mourned. It was heartbreaking to witness such terrible sorrow.

"Sir?" asked Scorpius. "May I ask a question?"

The Dark Lord shifted his grim gaze, eyes deep red under the cloudy autumn skies, to regard Scorpius with mild scrutiny.

"Yes, Scorpius?"

Scorpius blew out a soft breath, feeling incredibly out of his depth. "Have you not considered joining him?"

"I think about him every day," replied the Dark Lord. "And I will never forget him."

The vague answer made Scorpius uneasy. Had he misstepped in prying for an answer?

The Dark Lord was likely the oldest living being in all of magical Britain, if not the entire world. Scorpius could not imagine why the Dark Lord would want to remain here while the one he loved was gone.

"Sir?" repeated Scorpius, now uncertain.

The Dark Lord sighed, ran a hand through his hair, glanced back down at the grave with an expression of great sadness. "Please, Scorpius. Call me Tom. I think you have earned the familiarity, have you not?"

Scorpius felt his previous unease return in full force. "Tom," he said dutifully.

"I have been following your progress in the papers," the Dark Lord—Tom—continued. "He would have been proud."

"I could only hope so." Scorpius tore his eyes away, looking out at the rows of gravestones that stretched on for some distance. "As Minister, I aspire to honour him."

Tom said nothing in response, but the silence was now more comfortable, and Scorpius felt confident enough to ask another question.

"So will you ever pass on? Or do you plan to stay forever?"

Bringing lilies to this place for centuries to come, though Scorpius could not imagine carrying out such a task for eternity. Already, Scorpius was beginning to feel the weariness of his age, and sometime in the next decade, he knew he would begin to look for his own successor.

How Theodore had managed for so long, Scorpius did not know. Theodore had never struck Scorpius as the kind of man who longed for a lengthy life. He had lived mostly in solitude, unmarried with no children, with few friends and fewer family members.

Towards the end, Scorpius gathered that Theodore had chosen to outlive Harry just long enough to ensure the affairs of the Ministry were in order before passing on. To preserve the legacy that Harry and the Dark Lord had created here.

"I have my task set to me, and I will see it through. When my time comes, I will pass on. You need not worry."

"What task?" Scorpius asked, for this was the closest he had ever gotten to answers, for an explanation behind the Dark Lord's abrupt departure from their government.

"Harry's greatest fear was that he would be forced to witness the deaths of those he loved, over and over again. That the repeated torment of such grief would destroy his humanity."

There was a pause, and Scorpius realized he was expected to respond.

"I see," Scorpius said, though really he did not.

Tom chuckled, humourless. "There was once a prophecy," he said. "I assume Theodore had told you?"

Scorpius nodded.

"'He will live while the Dark Lord reigns, and the Dark Lord will rule as long as he survives,' " Tom quoted softly. "I have fulfilled my end of that bitter bargain, and so I have fulfilled Harry's dearest wish, his first wish, which was that his death would free innocents from Lord Voldemort's reign."

"You left for him."

"Indeed." Tom inclined his head, then continued, "And so to honour his sacrifice, to honour his death, I will continue to bear witness to the lives of those he loved."

Once you and these others have departed, then will I find myself able to rest, hoping that I have earned enough forgiveness for my sins."

Scorpius gaped. "That could take centuries more!"

There were children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and onwards, relations to Harry's original family and friends, all those who Harry had loved without limit.

While not all of them would choose to consume the Elixir, to extend their lives past the norm, many of them would, surely, and with each generation that passed, the Dark Lord would continue to live on, a phantom presence in the world, watching over them.

"He would not want you to do this," Scorpius insisted. "He would want you to be at peace."

Tom smiled wryly. "Harry has always been kinder to me than I deserved. And so have you, Scorpius, though you know not the true extent of the atrocities I have committed."

Scorpius was aware that the man before him was the most powerful sorcerer on the planet, that to challenge the Dark Lord was a folly on its own, but he could not fathom leaving from this place knowing that Tom Riddle had condemned himself to unknowing years of confinement in this mortal realm.

"You must pass on," Scorpius said. "This is not right."

Tom's expression shifted, the curl of his mouth now patronizing. Scorpius felt like a foolish young man again, to be on the receiving end of such a look.

"It is easier to commit wrongs than rights," Tom lectured. "To commit a wrong requires less engagement of the heart, mind, and soul than to commit its opposite. The mere concept of righting a wrong implies that justice is owed."

Justice is not owed. If we continually seek reckoning, then we will always be searching for more, do you see?"

Scorpius felt rather like he had just plunged off the edge of a cliff into something dangerous and profound. The words made sense on their own, but the overall meaning was lost on him.

The man once known as the Dark Lord continued, "And so I find myself rather more concerned with what is offered than what is owed. There is power in choice, in giving freely; more power than could ever be taken by force."

At Scorpius' continued silence, Tom's gaze softened. "You are a good man, Scorpius, but you have known little of war. Trust me when I tell you this is more of a blessing than you will ever comprehend. History is written by the victors, and I have altered history enough for several lifetimes."

Scorpius cleared his throat. "I see. Thank you for the advice."

"I will see you in five years time. I trust you will have begun to groom a successor by then?"

Tom offered his hand out, his brows raised.

Scorpius shook it, a sense of gloom pressing upon him as he did so. "I would think so."

"Until then, Scorpius Malfoy." Tom swept into an informal bow, a gesture Scorpius had not anticipated. "It was a pleasure to see you. Please do take care."

"You as well."

Unconsciously, Scorpius cast one final glance to the inscription on James and Lily Potter's gravestone. To the epitaph that Harry must have chosen for them.

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The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

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The air stirred around Scorpius, a serene breath of wind that ruffled the heavy cloak hanging over his arm.

Scorpius knew without looking that Lord Voldemort was gone.

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END.

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A/N:

ok ok ok ok whew. it is done. wow.

i'd like to preface this final author's note with the fact that this was never the story i wanted to tell (as it's a bit out of my usual element), but rather the story i felt needed to be told. this started as a semi-silly idea and ended up as something much larger.

from the very beginning, i knew harry was going to die at the end of this story. i knew that this would result in tom/voldemort relinquishing his reign, willingly, for good.

everything that happened in between was simply the natural development of their relationship. hence my continual expansion of the chapter count as i found myself writing more and more words in this universe. harry and voldemort began on opposite sides, and eventually they ended up somewhere in the middle; it just took many, many words to get them there.

if you're wondering what happened during that three hundred year gap, i really can't say. i have my ideas, but i wanted to leave this ending ambiguous and up to the reader's interpretation. i may or may not choose to revisit that time period in future one-shots.

scorpius malfoy's pov is that of an unreliable narrator; his view of harry and tom's relationship is skewed as a result. romance was never a focus for me when writing this story, so you may choose to imagine their relationship progressed however you wish.

i would greatly appreciate any thoughts you may have, and i am perfectly willing to answer questions about the epilogue (the fates of any characters, for example) in replies to reviews.

in case that was not obvious enough: this is me asking very directly for reviews please!

thank you for finishing this journey with me!

feel free to join my personal discord server with this invite code: 6jcu8qM