Warrior. Hold your monsters close. Turn them into your magic. *

Who knew that being reincarnated was less brutal than falling and hitting the back of your head on the stone floor of the Hogwarts corridors?

Well, Harry knows it now, and he's not going to forget it anytime soon—especially considering how the pain of the shock rippled against the walls of his skull.

As a group of young Slytherins surrounded him with dark looks, he felt a sudden surge of sympathy for Neville, who had suffered a similar fate in their first year. Except that Neville had not been dragged like an old mop for more than a hundred yards, only to have his face half-bathed by the wet tiles of the ground floor toilet...

Noting this point, Harry was amused to think that apparently bullies seemed to have a strong connection to bathrooms in general.

In another effort to drag him further, Harry's head hit the enameled base of one of the sinks. He tried to protest by wagging his jaw, but only a few pathetic grunts escaped from the back of his throat. They could at least levitate him! 'Levicorpus' is not a complicated spell to cast! Or maybe it hasn't been created yet... Either way, Harry felt ridiculous for falling into such a silly ambush.

"The badger weighs more than he looks!" complained one of the Slytherins in a hasty whisper, his face red from the effort of dragging Harry's body.

"That's not a badger!" scolded the only girl of the group and who with her attitude seemed to be the chief of the band. "He's a filthy mole. Both live underground, but this one is just a vermin we need to get rid of."

Although Harry's facial expression remained frozen in the same state of shock due to the ambush, it still perfectly reflected his stupor.

A mole? Dorea had also addressed him by calling him a 'vermin'. What the heck was that all about?

The gears in Harry's mind were turning at full speed. He had two options. The first one: it would not be difficult to free himself from this spell, which was harmless, especially when Harry was familiar with wandless magic.

The second: he could remain frozen and pay attention to what was happening around him. Anyway, what would it cost him? Apart from a slightly bruised ego? Which in itself, was far from the worst Harry could endure.

So, he remained immobilized by the spell, while two boys from the five Syltherins set him on his feet in one of the stalls at the back of the bathroom.

"Okay, so what do we do now? Do we call the chiefs or do we have some fun first?"

"Of course we have fun first! My father taught me a whole bunch of curses this summer, I need to try them on something other than a—Outch!"

"Goyle, save that for the blood traitors," said the one leading the band with exasperation, while tucking away her wand after she tossed her stinging jinx. "Maybe we have more interesting things to do with him? Don't you think so?"

Another Slytherin took a step forward, there was something brutal about his face—perhaps because his jaw looked like it was chiseled out of stone to form rough edges. His eyes bore into Harry's. "If we can get him to talk now, it will save the others time. That's what will get us up the ranks."

The last of the boys, still a little behind, wrinkled his nose as he searched the pockets of his robe. "Crap!" he snarled. "I knew I should have taken the veritaserum with me this morning…"

At the mention of the potion, Harry felt his heart thump harder against his ribs. Maybe it had been a bad idea to think the Slytherins wouldn't do anything serious? However, he was still at their mercy, because he wanted to know what kind of questions they could ask.

"You don't have it? Seriously! We went through Slughorn's personal stash and almost got caught! We did all this and you didn't even think about taking it with you?"

"Don't get pissed off at me. If we were able to capture him with only a second-year spell, it wouldn't be too hard to get our hands on him again." He judged Harry from head to toe. "...Or spike his pumpkin juice."

The leader reluctantly nodded, before turning her attention back to Harry, a familiar sneer creasing her nose and lips. "Truly pathetic. Who can believe he has been trained by Grindelwald?"

"Only if that story is true," objected the teenager who wanted to steal the veritaserum. "I'm not the only one who suspects that the Ministry made this up when they saw that the Aurors weren't getting any results."

"I repeat, potion or not, we should make him talk," said menacingly, the one who looked like a brute as he approached Harry. "I'm sure losing a bone or two would motivate him to tell us who he's working for."

"But, what if he really is a disciple of the dark wizard?" whined Goyle.

"And what? He'd be here to find more recruits?" hissed the girl as she pulled out her wand again to threaten him. "Get your brain working, if he was really one of us he would be in our house!"

"Anyway, Black seems certain of his move. He and Malfoy got confirmation from above that he was under a false identity. Well," the thief grew impatient. "We're already late for potions. We need to hurry up and make a decision, because if Charis notices that I skipped class, she's going to skin me alive."

"Let's call—"

The leader of the gang stopped talking when the clacking of heels suddenly echoed in the hallway. Harry had heard enough and took advantage of the distraction to bring his magic into action. As his muscles flexed, he shot through the group like an arrow, knocking over the girl in his path and then the boy who had been standing back from the beginning, blocking the exit of the cubicle by leaning on it.

The Slytherins gasped before brandishing their wands, their expressions mixed between disgusted faces and sharp smiles thirsty for blood.

It was in the early stages of a one-on-five duel that Death made her entrance. With her fists on her hips, she was accompanied by two Ravenclaws who stood hidden behind her—Harry recognized Lucretia among them. Her thin frame hunched over her shoulders, she swallowed as she judged the scene before her, her eyes wide with panic.

"Trelawney, Black, thank you. That'll be all, go ahead, it won't take long. A portrait is already assigned to make sure you get back to my classroom safely."

The two blue-robed students didn't hesitate to leave. If Harry trusted his gut, the Slytherins had not only gone after the Gryffindors, but them as well. He had seen Lucretia's reaction, and it was one of someone who knew what those who stood before her were capable of. This made Harry grind his teeth, he was almost tempted to copy Barty Crouch's example and turn the gang into a pack of ferrets—something harmless, but perfectly lethal to their reputations.

Death loudly scratched her throat to refocus attention on her. "If you think that because I'm blind that I don't know your wands are out, you're sorely mistaken."

The group of Slytherins slowly lowered their wands, some almost squinting as they tried to keep an eye on Harry and on Death at the same time.

"If I run into you again, wand in hand, I'll give you a good reason to have it... Maybe to go capture some Cornish pixies I need?" Death mused in an eerie voice. Seeing that the students didn't move an inch, she added more sternly, "what exactly are you waiting for? An invitation? Get out of here before I change my mind and drag you to the Headmaster's office."

It took less than a minute before the restroom was completely empty of students, leaving Harry alone with Death.

He took off his glasses to massage his eyelids. "I'm too old for this crap," He complained.

"And if you think you've seen everything!" playfully quipped Death. "Wait until you see the rest."

"I can't wait." Harry sighed as he put his glasses back on. "A hint, perhaps?"

"As if, I'm not Fate," she teased, with a mischievous smile. She motioned for Harry to approach. "I thought I heard you were on your way to see me. It's about time you started asking the right questions, but it'll have to wait a little while. I have one more class today. You can attend if you don't want to wait in the hallway."

"To look like the teacher's pet? No thanks!" Harry joked as his friend was already dragging him towards the dungeons.

"Don't spoil my fun. I was thinking of dueling practices to evaluate their levels—"

"Are you really asking me for educational advice? I'm sure you can come up with someone else, better than me. Obviously."

Death raised her eyebrows, "Dumbledore's Army was a pretty good example of your skills. Or the real army you created…"

"Please don't mention the second one. You know I only have bad memories of it."

"As you wish. But there will come a day when you'll have to accept that it's just as much a part of you as any other."

"And I think that's where it gets complicated… I don't think any of the other lives I've lived so far really belong to me. They're kind of like—I don't know how to explain it... like, err, detached from me?"

They were going deeper into the castle, which is why Death's laughter reverberated all the louder against the walls of the stairs that led to her classroom in the dungeons.

"Finally!" she enthused. "I'm almost tempted to cancel my class to keep you talking."

She grabbed the door handle, but before she opened it, she gently gave Harry's forehead a tap with one finger. "Keep it all in your pretty little head, or just keep thinking about it, but don't lose the thread, hmm?"

"Death..."

"Hello again!" Death exclaimed as she opened the door, not caring about the slow warning in Harry's tone.

The latter stood back near the entrance as Death walked up the aisle to the center of her classroom. She waved her hands expertly and the tables began to stretch their thick wooden legs and move towards the classroom walls. Students scrambled to retrieve their inkwells and books when they noticed their tables fidgeting to get away.

"Let me pick up where I stopped before I left. Where was I again? ... Um, ah yes! Your former teacher chose to teach you the theoretical path of what awaits you outside: why you should avoid walking in the forest on a full moon night or why you should definitely never talk to a hag at your age—except the one inside the Hogwarts Express, of course!"

A few students turned their heads to their neighbors, wide-eyed upon hearing this fact.

"Avoidance is a good way to defend yourself. Better prevent than cure, isn't it? But let's take a new perspective shall we? If we are realistic, you all already have your heads in imminent danger. You have no chance to avoid them, especially when they come after you in one of the most secure place in England—"

"But what's happening at Hogwarts is not related to the Dark Arts… Is it?" whimpered a Ravenclaw in a thin, slightly panicked voice.

"When we talk about Dark Arts, I would like to be clear on my definition. It is neither a way of qualifying a type of magic that can corrupt you if you are not prepared for it, nor is it the classification applied by the Ministry. We are talking about the nefarious intention behind anything that is against you... Perhaps this is a rather blurred nuance for you, so I would like to illustrate it.

"Let's take for example the spells that were classified as Unforgivable Curses in 1717. They were classified as such because of the drift in their uses. If we look at the written records before that time, these spells had a completely different purpose than the one we know today. Before causing the horrors of our time, these spells were intended to heal… Surprising, isn't it? Whether it was to destroy diseases or persistent curses; to provide a form of outlet through pain for those seeking to escape the hell of their minds; or to allow those with behavioral disorders to better manage them… See where I'm going with this? Yes, I think you do. It is the intention behind any magic that counts, and it is in this understanding that I want to teach you, so that you can grasp the complexity of potential situations that could arise in your future."

Death crossed her hands behind her back and let a moment of silence float by.

The students, now standing in the middle of the room (since the chairs had followed the tables and lined up against the walls), exchanged mixed looks, unsure of the credibility of their new teacher's words.

Death's faint eerie laughter interrupted the silence she had set, and with another gesture from her, the only door in the room swung open wide.

The noise startled a few students who turned to see a small army of dummies crossing the threshold of the classroom. The sight was somewhat terrifying, Harry admitted. Even though the dummies looked perfectly harmless, with their worn brown burlap bodies stuffed with straw, they were moving like zombies. That is, they moved slowly, dragging their legs, so much so that their arms were flung from side to side as they walked. Harry was certain that at least one of the students here had just come across the future form of their boggart.

"This is where my way of teaching will diverge from your former teacher's: theory through practice. You will learn to connect your brain with your body, so that, when confronted with imminent danger, you will not be immobile, paralyzed looking for a solution. You will learn to act. Quickly and well enough to get out of whatever it is that wants to harm you... Now line up and pull out your wands."

' So you're giving them the means to run away from you for a little longer? ' thought Harry.

' That's the beauty of life. Even without my guidance, they will seek to escape me. '

Each student found a dummy to partner with, while Death worked on applying an extension charm to move the walls of the classroom backwards, thus freeing up more space.

When the walls finished moving and each student in the class was standing in front of their dummy with their wand drawn, time seemed to stand still for a brief moment. Harry couldn't help but take a sharp breath that locked his lungs. The air in the room pulsed with magic and was charged with the distinctive smell of ozone that heralded a storm.

"My instructions are simple, the dummies are set up to attack you with spells and curses you'll probably not recognize. Don't hold back, I want to see how you react. If it gets to be too much for you and you have to stop the fight, throw red sparks."

She clapped her hands and the dummies all straightened up as one, torsos bulging and arms outstretched with a branch growing in their hands in a grotesque imitation of a wand.

"Alright!" exclaimed cheerfully Death. "Let's open fire!"

As the last words crossed Death's lips, magical explosions erupted like the day the Weasley twins interrupted the O.W.L. exam with their spectacular fireworks.

Harry had the reflex to immediately throw a shield around himself to avoid any collateral damage. Which in itself was far from a bad idea! The room became a battlefield, with a magical outburst that would probably shake the foundations of Hogwarts.

The lions stood out because they often used direct offensive strategies by using the environment to fight. It was common to see them throw a table or a chair in the direction of a dummy to make it step back or to serve as a shield. Then, it was just as common to find that behind the furniture that had just been thrown were a few Ravenclaws considering the possibilities of counterattacks with other housemates.

On several occasions, Harry found totally understandable shortcomings in the students. Whether it was in the way they physically dodged a spell, thought too long to remember a counter-spell, or simply mismanaged the stress of the situation…

But besides that, Harry had to be honest, he found that many of them were almost too skilled in dueling for their age. This majority showed a sincere experience in the field and that made Harry's gut tighten. Not to mention the way they fought, they followed Death's instructions to the letter: they didn't hold back. They were fighting like their lives depended on it and it was violent. Almost wild.

'Do you plan to do your classes in the form of dueling often? '

'Absolutely. I think it's necessary. The teachers here are worried about the students' magical exhaustion, but they need it. Their magical cores are growing, and if they don't spend enough of it, their bodies will become... itchy. I mean, look at the way they're fighting, it's already the case. They don't need a magical puberty crisis on top of everything else that's happening to them. '

Harry was surprised at the small amount of red sparks being shot. One of the students calling for a time-out was Lucretia, who ran across the room to take refuge by Harry's side, who immediately included her behind his shield. She was just as out of breath as she had been the previous night, but she still gave Harry a thumbs up, as if to thank him for protecting her for a few moments.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, after she managed to catch her breath.

"Me? I think I should be the one asking you that question."

"It's training, we're safe. The Slytherins, on the other hand, they are... they are not training."

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine. I must have lost a few brain cells on the hallway floor, but it won't matter much."

In response, Lucretia first had an exhausted chuckle. Then, she whispered softly, "do you know what they wanted with you?"

"I think they just don't like me coming here."

"That's unexpected… Considering your past, I mean. Are you sure that's all—hmm, you know what? I'll find out. Something's been wrong since you got here."

"Oi! Black! We need you over here!" exclaimed a Gryffindor with whom Lucretia had been cooperating since the beginning of the hour.

"No need to howl at the moon, I'm coming Lupin!" She would turn back to Harry. "See ya!" And, without waiting for an answer, she returned to the battlefield.

As for Harry, he thought he would eventually get used to hearing names from the past pop up, but to no avail. The knowledge that at this very moment a Black was already standing next to a Lupin made his heart ache, and the more he thought about it, the more it pained him to think that he would have to wait much longer before seeing Remus or Sirius again...

When the bell signaled the end of class, all the dummies dropped dead to the floor, leaving the students standing there breathless and sweaty. Some of the students followed the same fate as the dummies and fell to the ground too—bone deep exhausted.

"Excellent! I expected nothing less. At the next class, I will give you some collective feedback."

Death waited for the students to get their things, and, when a small number of them began to make their way to the exit, she pulled a piece of wood from her bun.

With a sudden jolt, Harry realized that it was a wand that Death was pointing in his direction.

"Did you expect us to chat over a cup of tea?" asked Death with sharp smile.

"Of course I did!" Harry exclaimed, whipping out his wand in turn. "Even, around a hot cocoa to be more specific!"

Without warning, Death cast an unidentifiable spell that hit Harry's shield hard and sent it flying into a million pieces.

He barely had time to leap to the side and glance at the charred mark the spell had left on the wall he was leaning on a second before.

"Dea— Morcades! You want to kill me!?"

"Too easy, I want to remind you that you still have work to do here." She punctuated her sentence with another spell that slashed Harry's cheek as he was throwing himself out of its way.

Harry's heart missed a beat as he saw the curse race towards the other students who were now lingering at the entrance to watch the impromptu fight.

In Harry's hands, his wand vibrated—overloaded with magic that was just waiting for a command to jump out. It was as easy as conjuring the tureen. Harry just needed a simple thought, and a new shield was erected between Death's curse and the students who were at the end of its course. This time, the barrier resisted the assault, emanating an intense golden flicker to prove its unscratched state.

Now assured that the spectators were not threatened by anything, Harry tightened his grip on his wand and his legs darted forward. He slid behind a table and cast a jinx that was probably considered innocent, but had its way of throwing the assailant off balance.

From the laughter he heard, he had managed to hit Death. He risked a glance over the desk to prove it.

"I like the Rapunzel style. It suits you," Harry taunted as he straightened up to run to another shelter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Death's hair continuing to grow in an unending tide of hair that was drowning her as she was trying to control it with a lot of Severing Charms. Except that among them, one had a different color and was thrown in the direction of Harry's legs. He fell head first, cut off in his tracks and his feet stuck to the ground.

'One more blow to the head today and my brain will end up coming out of my ears.'

Death abandoned the idea of cutting her hair and tossed it back to clear her face. Casually, she stepped down from her dais, and walked forward, her wand pointed to Harry's face.

' You're giving up the fight already? '

' With you, I've never resisted. '

Death slowly lowered her wand, and put a hand against her cheek. "You really want to make me blush—"

The flash of light from a spell interrupted Death, who immediately stepped aside, except it was the ground that Harry was aiming at. Death slipped, flailing her arms in the air to try to keep her balance on the slippery ground. Harry took advantage of the distraction to vanish his shoes and escape to the opposite side of the classroom.

"Can we stop? I don't wanna hurt you by mistake!"

"Please don't forget who I am," Death lectured him as she managed to lift the slippery jinx from under her feet. She blew out a few endless strands of hair that came to tickle her face. "I was hoping it would help you blow off some steam."

"This is too serious for me to be distracted!" Harry defended himself.

' But, you already are… '

The echo of Death's voice pierced Harry's thoughts as a dummy came up and grabbed him from behind. It held him so tightly that he couldn't even breathe. Black dots were already appearing in his vision when he managed to get out of the way enough to turn around.

His blood ran cold as he realized that instead of the faceless head of the dummy there was now the illusion of Dolores Umbridge's face.

' That's all in your mind. '

Harry's breath was getting shorter and shorter, so he thrust his wand into the belly of the dummy now dressed in a pale pink suit that gave Harry nightmare visions.

"Incendio!" he roared, unleashing a torrent of flames.

The dummy immediately relaxed its grip and ran into the classroom as it was reduced to a human torch.

' If you don't want to fight me, let's try those you wouldn't mind hurting. '

' I'm not here to vent anything! I just need to know how the horcruxes got into your realm when I totally destroyed them. Even better, why are they even there if Tom isn't dead now?! '

The two immortals stared at each other for several seconds, before Death sighed in irritation, ' Is that the first question you have? Not why they project you into the past? '

"Wh-what? I thought you were the one who made it possible!"

More dummies were straightened up, some also bearing Dolores' face, but Harry could also distinguish Bellatrix's and other Death Eaters'. This was becoming worse and worse.

"Fate has a grudge against you because you're Luck's favorite..." Death sighed, massaging her brow in exasperation.

The dummies with the faces of Harry's enemies walked in his direction, menacing looks distorting their features.

'You take my words too lightly, Harry. What you described to me, this detachment you have from your other lives, is all your own fault, you've been fooling yourself for too long— '

"Depulso!" Hary chanted with a sudden wave of his wand that catapulted some of the enemies across the room.

The only thing that was able to stop their momentum was the opposite wall as they crashed against it. Those who had escaped the shockwave continued to rush towards Harry; they were casting spells Harry was unfamiliar with—but judging by the black mist that emanated from the marks they left on their targets, it was only a bad omen.

'—But either way, let's talk about why the horcruxes are in my Limbo, if that's really what you're worried about. As far as I know, you only destroyed their containers, so why shouldn't they belong in a realm ignored by time and dedicated to those who no longer have a physical anchor in the realm of the living? '

Harry didn't immediately respond to Death, he sent a charm that rocketed the rest of the assailants; they flew up to the ceiling before hitting it with a loud bang.

Before they could hit the floor in their fall, Harry shouted "Immobulus!" to freeze them in a blue light that saturated the room.

The Death Eaters and the multiple copies of Dolores Umbridges hung in the air like cosmonauts drifting through space.

"Okay, okay, dumb question, dumb answer. Thanks, I get it." Harry growled, before kicking a chair hard to purposefully break the leg. 'But what exactly am I supposed to understand? My problem with my lives is different from my original questions about the horcruxes. '

"You're only proving that you're not listening to me."

"And if you weren't just talking in cryptic terms, you'd save us all a lot of trouble!" Harry snarled while transfiguring the chair leg into a replica of Godric's sword. 'I had no idea what I was getting into when I touched the first one, so you'll excuse me for needing a moment to let the shock of being plunged into the past pass.'

'So you still don't understand why they brought you here, hmm? Don't you even know it's them? Or rather him,' Death asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, her brows furrowed, as if to show that she too was about to lose her temper. "You're really stubborn when you put your mind to it... but you'll have to admit it eventually."

"Admit—" Harry interrupted himself to behead one of the dummies who was throwing himself at him. "Admit what?!"

' All your questions: why do the pieces stay scattered without coming together? Why do they bring you back to the timeline of your first life? Why can't I just send Voldemort to another life? Why can't you just move on?... They all have the same answer! And you already have it, except you have to admit it before we can go any further. '

Harry's arms froze mid-air as he was about to bring the sword down on one of the Fenrir Greyback dummies; which was just about to slam into him. Harry found himself knocked to the ground, close to being chewed up by a werewolf.

"Think, Harry! I already told you."

Harry pulled himself together. "I think!—" He slammed his pommel into Fenrir's face and took advantage of his confusion to transfigure him into a puppy. "I think I've heard enough…" he growled, out of breath, as he leapt to his feet.

"No. You just want to hide the truth from yourself."

"I said!—"

'He is as much a part of you as you are a part of him,' Death cut him off. ' Harry, I know you refuse to accept it, but please, I need you to listen to me! Since that day when he created a horcrux inside your scar, your souls have never been two separate entities... They are intertwined. Not because of an incident or a mistake, but only because your souls have accepted this bond.'

"No!" interjected Harry, sending another Depulso that made the dummies back off. "On the contrary, this was all a mistake. None of us wanted this and we don't share anything now that I've gotten rid of what was in my head!"

'But, it is far beyond anything, a soul cannot remain incomplete, it will transcend time or space to find what it lacks. You can't keep running away while it's trying to reach you. This is... This is pure torture. You are hurting yourself by doing this.'

For several long seconds, all that could be heard was Harry's heavy breathing and the blade of his sword slicing the dummies that kept coming back for more in half.

There was no longer the restraint of a simple desire to defend himself; now the blade was impaling itself brutally through skulls or violently ripping open bellies, reflecting the rage that was rising in Harry. It wasn't just that he refused to admit the truth that Death was offering him: he hated it. He hated it from the bottom of his heart.

'I'm willing to believe many things, Death, but certainly not that I need Voldemort to live.'

' No soul can enjoy another life without being complete. It will just be a specter, unable to embrace the present moment, looking for what it lacks... You just used to call it boredom, Harry— '

"That's enough. Really, I've heard enough," Harry held back from yelling, he just groaned as he continued to slash his blade, as if to expel all the emotions that gripped his throat and drowned out his vision with red.

When one of the dummies collapsed to the ground again, defeated, Harry was confronted with the austere expression of Death, shrouded in the gloomy shadow of her long black hair.

'If not this, then perhaps it is your actions that are holding you back? Do you think you can move on to other lives, carrying the burden that you murdered the one you shared your soul with? This soul entertwined with yours, that you were forced to murder piece by piece… Is that what holds you back indefinitely, Harry? Wanting to take revenge on those who led you down a path where all that awaited you was sacrifice? The violence of maiming? To lose your soul indefinitely? '

"Enough," Harry panted softly as he stood still and his magic buzzed around him, charging at any dummy that came too close and simply ripping it apart.

'Or maybe this is all just a twisted trial. This whole thing could have been easier... Much simpler. I give you the choice, but I think you need to suffer—even that you enjoy the pain of the process. Because even though you see that you're not entirely responsible for his murder, you can't help but feel your hands dirty with his blood. This trial, this ordeal, you have partly built it yourself... Unconsciously you are looking for a form of redemption—a peace... And deep inside, he knows it too.'

"Enough!" Harry's roar was accompanied by a shockwave that blew up every dummy in the room.

"By acting on the past, you hope to alter the future. Preventing wars, the death of your loved ones... of course, you have the ability, but what you are trying to deny is the origin of all this. Don't you see that all this is a distress call trying to reach you? Why don't you accept that you are not the only one who wants to avoid repeating the ending that has already happened?" Death's pupiless eyes seemed to darken. She swallowed, before turning her gaze to the entrance of her classroom.

Harry refused to follow her gaze and kept his back firmly presented to the entrance. He drew a long, shaky breath; the knuckles of his hands were white, clasped tightly on the handle of his sword and wand.

'You're wrong, Death. Voldemort is not sending any distress signals. If he really wants to change something, it's only to better achieve world domination and satisfy his ego... I'm doing all this just to hope for a better future and to finally draw a line in the sand... but in any case, there will come a day when I will have to stop Voldemort. Because if I don't, no one will. No one can change that, it's inevitable. Prophecies or not, intertwined souls or not...'

Harry turned around, ready to leave the room, but one last thought crossed his mind when he saw Tom standing apart from the other students who had come to huddle behind the barrier Harry had erected to watch the fight.

'We will inevitably be enemies. Really, nothing can stop us from facing each other.'

'Above all, nothing can stop the two of you from finding each other… Harry, you're already dead by the hand of the other. Don't you think murdering your own soul once is enough?'

The barrier of light that protected the students turned into golden dust as Harry walked through it. The younger students stepped out of his path. On his way, he passed by Tom and planted the sword at his feet without stopping.

"Keep it. You'll need it to complete your collection."