December 31, 1946

Joan's heart sank to the bottom of her stomach.

Malfoy had opened the barrier with his blood and exhausted too much power, hence from the entrance of the cave to the top of the tower she'd been the main force of defence. Within this suppressive magic barrier, where her powers had already been used too excessively, was she a match against Malfoy? Moreover, she lost her wand! She dared not act rashly, much less reveal her weaknesses.

"Malfoy!" She shouted sharply. "Our goal is to get him out!"

"That's your goal," Abraxas shrugged, stroking the carvings on his wand handle; he still appeared frivolous, but the wand pointing at Harry never trembled.

"What do you mean?" Joan gazed at Malfoy steadily, her expression terribly cold and stern.

"I just wanted Harry Potter to disappear from my Lord's side, but…" Malfoy smiled cruelly. "Now I believe making him disappear from the world is a more direct approach."

Harry listened to their conversation, vaguely understanding the development of their current situation.

Death? This was exactly what he urgently needed.

Harry cast his gaze on the dignified Slytherin woman beside him, suddenly feeling the urge to reach out and hug her. It had nothing to do with the love between a man and a woman; rather, it came from the most sincere gratitude and guilt he felt towards her in his heart. He once thought of Joan as another Hermione, projecting characteristics from that world into this world in an attempt to find familiarity and comfort.

He once disregarded this world, thinking of himself as a mere passerby who had no need of any substantial friendships.

But when he believed this mission had turned out to be a complete failure, when he held doubts towards his plans or actions, she took the initiative to stand beside him, to defend him.

You see, at least his existence here made this world just a little bit different.

"Thank you." Harry's fingers released the Invisibility Cloak; obeying the beautiful impulse of human nature, he reached out to hug Joan.

The silver cloak slid down like flowing water.

Joan froze for a moment. In her memory, very few people had held her like this; her last memory of being hugged like this was so long ago she couldn't even remember what another person's warmth felt like. At this moment, she suddenly felt the urge to cry, and even her heartbeat gradually sped up.

Harry was grateful Joan would do all this for him, but he had no choice but to refuse her protection.

"I'm sorry." Harry gave her a guilty smile, and stepped away from Joan's protection. Without a time-travel device, the only way he could return was through death.

Joan panicked. She didn't know why she wanted to help someone who was completely unrelated to her, but she knew if she didn't, she'd regret it.

"Come back, you idiot!" She yelled at him, urging him back with slight frustration. She could feel how her body was on the verge of collapse, fatigued from climbing the tower; could feel how drained her power was from the suppressive barrier and former excessive use; could feel the helplessness in the hand that previously held her wand; she had no way…

No! She had a way! Joan gripped the necklace hidden deep in her pocket.

Harry calmly watched the tip of Malfoy's wand, secretly relieved.

It was much easier to be killed by someone else, wasn't it?

"Why are you doing this?" He was clearly about to die, yet he was calmer than anyone else.

Even if they looked calm and sane on the surface, there was madness hidden in the bones of any Slytherin; a dangerous characteristic. Malfoy finally revealed his fangs. "You can't blame anyone else; who told you to become the Lord's only weakness? The object of the Malfoy family's allegiance must be perfect!"

Who told… 'You' to become his only weakness?

Harry looked at Malfoy blankly, comprehension coming to him sluggishly.

His Lord's weakness?

Seeing how Harry didn't respond, Joan could only attempt to stop the spell caster. "Abraxas Malfoy! If Tom finds out you killed Harry, the consequences are not something you could afford!"

Malfoy smiled with indifference.

If he dared to do this, then he naturally dared to bear the consequences. Even if his Lord became furious from this matter, he'd never attack the Malfoy family! Because the Malfoy family supported all his ambitions, because the Malfoy family provided all the resources for his future, and because the Malfoy family was the cornerstone of his Death Eater army!

How could Tom Riddle possibly ruin all his efforts for just one Harry Potter?

This brief period of indulgence and satisfaction was making his Lord reluctant to do this himself; in that case, he'd do it for him instead!

After the Muggles are expelled and Pureblood families gain absolute control, his Lord would definitely reward him for his wisdom; would definitely laugh at his youthful past self for being so ignorant and wild!

Furthermore… Nobody would know what Abraxas did; it would obviously be Joan who missed and killed him during their battle. He would just be a bewitched accomplice…

Like a sponge absorbing water, the substance named ambition began to indefinitely expand, filling his mind and body, expelling his reason and stifling his hesitation. Thus, the man, who appeared to have planned it all out flawlessly, waved his wrist.

"Avada Kedavra."

Before the last word of the incantation fell from his tongue, before the dazzling green light had even left his wand, Joan had gritted her teeth, eyes splitting in resolve, and swiftly threw the necklace in her hand to Harry.

In the end, Joan never saw what hit him first; she just remembered the way he stood there, smiling shallowly, as he bid her farewell.

After the green light, there was nothing left. There was no corpse, nor was there a single trace of that delicate, silver-glowing hourglass.

Did he escape the Killing Curse and return safely to his friends and relatives? Or… Did his friends and relatives receive a noble yet cold corpse?


"Harry?" Tom followed the winding staircase to the top of the tower. The stairs were all controlled by his magic, completely isolating the top of the tower from the rest of the world.

He casually pulled off the black ribbon tied around his neck, allowing his shirt collar to part loosely. The perfect use and control of his forces at the party tonight made him extremely happy, causing even his footsteps to lighten up. His joyful expression would've made outsiders believe he was just a proud young man satisfied with his successful career.

With such a perfect appearance, who would've thought he was just a temporarily satisfied dragon?

Outside the cave, the moon hung high in the sky, whilst within the cave, the night was thick and concentrated. It was at midnight when the Slytherin's party finally peeled off its skin of 'nobility' and began to revel. But the Slytherin descendant had long since been unable to settle. Hence he smirked, leaving politely but irrefutably, taking brisk steps excitedly towards Harry's birthday celebration for him.

Just like a husband getting off from work and looking forward to dinner.

He admits, he damnably looked forward to that - to celebrate not in the name of father and son.

"I'm back, Harry," Tom threw his bowtie on the couch, shouting into the bedroom.

No one answered him.

His light, almost-floating soul chilled slightly.

Harry? Tom narrowed his eyes; he walked to the bedroom and opened the door.

Squeak. The door swung open, making a flat and unpleasant noise that sounded particularly harsh in the dead cave.

All lightings in the tower were provided by gems to create a soft atmosphere, but in a situation where nobody was at the top of the tower, it somehow became more… Stiff.

Nobody here.

He calmly pushed open the bathroom door.

Nobody here.

He held his breath and walked into the kitchen.

Nobody here either.

"Harry, I don't like this method of celebration very much." Tom stopped, standing in the seemingly empty tower due to being the only person there, grinning as he spoke.

If you come out now, I'll forgive your behaviour.

Still… Nobody answered him.

The spell-induced expanded space was extremely empty, so much so that even his sound waves remained oscillated within this space. The air was also extremely cold, devoid of any warmth indicating someone had once lived here.

The slightly chilling air filled the space, responding to the Slytherin's pressing statement.

Harry disappeared.

The corners of Tom's lips seemed to curl up, widening his calm smile; a self-abusive voice suggested in his mind - he probably left.

"Are you going to send me back? Like Billy?"

"Never. I'll send you to school."

"You will not abandon me?"

"I'll stay with you. For as long as you need me."

Lies, lies! Everything was a lie! From the beginning to end, you've always been lying!

He could no longer sustain the smile by the corner of his mouth; his smiling eyes were already bursting with thick, blood-like crimson. No matter how capable Tom Riddle was at disguising and suppressing his emotions, he was no longer able to keep his surface calm.

Tom Riddle was a hungry beggar driven to a dead end; he'd thought he obtained heat and warmth enough to sustain the rest of his life, until one day he realised his arms were tightly holding onto nothing. Bowing his head, he found nothing, and was once again faced with the numbing cold and weariness. How does anyone expect him to just calmly nod and express his understanding?

In the end, what kind of a silly beggar who had once felt warmth possibly let it go?

Harry left and went back? How? How did he escape his control and leave this space?!

Tom looked out the dark window, his eyes filled with gloom.

Dementors have no language, but that doesn't mean they can't communicate.