Hey guys- this is just something I did while trying to entertain myself in-between studying for my exams. I haven't had time to update my "Scent of Magic" but I promise that as soon as I can I'll get on to that. Maybe on my holidays. Which are soon (whoo-hoo!!!) Until then, this is all I got. Enjoy.

Oh yeah. I do not own 'Harry Potter', its characters or subsidiaries, and do not earn ANY money from writing this. Like the great and lovely J.K., I don't mind if you borrow, but please give credit where it's due… to me!

Bitter Truth.

They had never understood. Assigning motives and rationalizing events. Trying to delve into the 'mind of the beast'. When they credit Him with one. They want to know  'why?', always 'why?', as if their being special in any way would allow for their involvement in this whole mess. Or make up for it.

They don't see that there are no reasons, no motives, no justifications. Only excuses, and poor ones at that.

I never wanted this. Never wanted the responsibility. The pain.

I had wanted glory and power and the admiration of my peers. What I had gotten was pain and many regrets. So now all I want is peace. Freedom.

I just want it to be over. I want to rest.

I think that maybe He does too.

I've waited too long for this. Potter and his little fan club had treated it like a game. Bloody Wizard's Chess. You make such-and-such a move, and I'll counter it. They hadn't realized that that wasn't how He worked.

He didn't play by the rules. Didn't play fair.

They couldn't see that in War, real people died. Potter, after that whole Diggory incident, should have known better. He hadn't learned.

He stands there, so bold and overconfident, screaming into His face. My face.

Defiant to the last. Bloody Gryffindors. That Weasley character at this back, steadfast friend to the last. Even in the face of death. And Granger. She could never have stood being left behind. Can't miss out on an opportunity to show her superior knowledge in something, anything. Even over poor bloody Weasley.

"United we stand…" and all that.

And there He stands. Lord Voldemort. That face, not even what one would consider human anymore. His reptilian-like features twisted and crude shifted into something not quite resembling a smile.

One moment Harry had been standing tall and defiant, on the grounds just outside of the school and the magic that protects it. The next, with a flick of wrist and wand He and Harry became enveloped in a bubble of pure energy, separating them both from all others gathered at this meeting of enemies.

They were alone. Together. With no one to protect them…

…from eachother.

*********************************************************************

"Headmaster…" Severus Snape said, turning towards his employer, but with eyes never leaving the pocket of energy that had enveloped both Harry had Voldemort only seconds ago, "what should we do?"

A few seconds passed before Dumbledore faced Snape, after having dragged his face away from that same bubble, and the sight of Hermione Granger absolutely speechless for the first time in the many years that he had known her. And young Weasley, silent and scared at her side.

"Do? We can do nothing, Severus. Nor should we. This is the culmination of all of our many years of planning and work. Now we must wait. And hope."

Dumbledore turned back to the scene before him, seemingly oblivious to the censuring stares of the other staff and students around him.

"I only pray the Lady guides you through this safely, Harry. I do hope she can help you, for I cannot." 

*********************************************************************

"So you have come to conquer the deadly and evil foe, eh Potter?"

For a moment Harry was disorientated. Seconds ago he had been standing beside his best friends, supported by the teachers of Hogwarts; in essence, he had had some of the most powerful and dangerous Wizards and Witches in the world at his back.

And now he was engulfed inside of a… force shield? He couldn't think of anything else to accurately compare it to.

Harry sneered. "I've come because you called me here. What do you want?" There was a fierce expression behind those taped-up glasses; one that said that he would brook no playing of games.

After receiving to summons from Voldemort, the demand to appear at a specific safe location alone Harry had known that he was walking into a trap. What possible motive could Voldemort have for 'requesting the pleasure of Master Harry Potter's presence', except to annihilate him?

And yet, Harry had come. Almost… compelled against his will to confront Voldemort, to finally have to out. Unfortunately the staff at the school wouldn't hear of allowing Harry to meet Voldemort by himself, and in defiance of instructions, had invited themselves along.

And now Harry was alone with Him anyway.

Voldemort smirked. "Ah, but I think this is more a question of what you want, Mr Potter."

"And what do I want?" he asked, almost curious.

"You want what everybody wants, Potter. You want what you want."

Harry was perplexed. And not extremely impressed. "I don't understand."

"Of course you do. You just don't want to admit it." He lifted a scarred hand; it had almost reached Harry's face before the fearless, intrepid Gryffindor took a hasty step back. Voldemort let loose a short bark of noise, something that at one time might have resembled a laugh, but now was something more similar to a nail scraping down a chalkboard.

"You want your will to be done. For everything to be right." He emphasised that last word. "You cannot tolerate the terrible things you see happen, can you, Potter? You need to fix them, make the world a better place."

"Doesn't everybody?" You could tell that even Harry was beginning to realize how surreal and bizarre this was becoming. Harry Potter having an in-depth discussion with Lord Voldemort? What next?

"But it doesn't stop at wanting, does it Harry? You go out and change the world. You go and right those wrongs. Can't help yourself, can you?" He practically snickered.

"I don't know what you're getting at-" Harry stated, obviously becoming uncomfortable.

"You imprint your wishes and desires onto the world around you. Make the world a better place. Because you want it. Because you are one of those people who are able to shape the world around them; you make things happen. And they love you for that, Harry. Because what you want is what they want. You're convenient to them. A tool to do what they can't. Or won't."

"That's not true. I help people.  What would you know?" Harry was becoming agitated. And visibly anxious. For years he had been told about what an evil monster Voldemort was; how He was barely even human. And yet here he stood, talking to him.

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about. Or that I'm lying. Ask them. Go on. Ask. See what they say. You are a tool Harry. And a fool.

"You don't think they've tried to destroy me? Their best have come against be and all but a few have lost their lives. Even the old man. I have to say that he was the most creative of the bunch. Didn't try to destroy me outright, didn't try to blow me up or anything. He turned my body against me. Made it slowly start to destroy itself. You think I look like this by choice? Think I like looking like a half melted reptile man? A monster? This was the only form that I could take that would not disintegrate on me. Oh, it did try. Had to add a few permanent restoration and repair spells, but now it's virtually indestructible."

"I say virtually, because I know it can be destroyed. And I know that you're the only one who can do it.

"You and one other. But he's dead now. He is, isn't he Harry? Great big gapping hole in his chest. Dead before he could get the wand out of his robe. Not a very polite fellow. Didn't even offer a drink to his guests.

"The resemblance is uncanny," He said, studying Harry's face.

"Your mother was very accommodating though. Laid out the full feast.

"Entertained everyone. Personally. Individually. Twice for some. Knows how to whet the appetites of her guests. Very…tasty" he leered, licking his lips.

"No" Harry whispered. He was obviously shaking, but with rage or fear was unclear.

"Oh, yes Harry. You really thing she was the perfect little saint that everyone tells you she was? I think not. But if you don't believe me I can find one or two people here to confirm it." He lifted his hear to survey the crowd outside the bubble of magic.

"Ahh, ha. See? There are two. Dear old Severus. Never one to miss his turn. And…Sirius Black. Always was very close to your mother. Of course, she was the kind of woman to be close to many men. She did seem to have proclivities for snakes and dogs, though.'

"No. No! Liar. You are a LIAR!!!" Harry screamed. His wand seemed to just appear in his hand, faster then humanly possible. But Harry himself didn't look human. He was like a thing possessed…by a power so ancient it was beyond the realms of good and evil, of black and white; it was pure rage, and absolute untamed power. Blindingly bright, and terrifyingly deadly.

Words erupted from his mouth, in a language older than the ancient ones, those who first tamed Magic, bent it to their will.

It was the tongue of those primordial ones, beings born of Magic, consumed and reborn in it; so much like the phoenix, the last of their kind, beings of fire and air, unbound to the Earth and so, free when all others became tamed under the shackles of ancient wards and spells, forever onward slave to the whims and ambitions of the race whom dared to call themselves 'Masters of Magic': Wizards.

Inside that small bubble of space that Harry and Voldemort occupied the light was so blindingly bright that none near it could bear to so much as glance without wincing and seeing spots before their eyes.

The energy the held the pocket of magic together was all that stopped the immense surge of pure energy from engulfing the staff and students waiting and until now grudgingly forced to be spectators in this final, fatal battle.

With an unusual 'popping' sound, the energy, now mostly spent was released from the cracks and crevasses in the shield of energy, until it had all but disintegrated and the witnesses to this battle bathed in its dangerous glow.

And then it faded, slowly, until the world around it became unnaturally dark and shadowed.

When the stunned spectators had recovered their sights to a degree that they could distinguish shapes, the sight that confronted them was so impossible that many felt confidant in believing that their eyes had some how become damaged.

Because before them stood Harry, slumped upon himself, panting, shocked, horrified and defeated. And opposite him, was not the disintegrated or even partially harmed body of Lord Voldemort, but the tired looking spectre of Tom Riddle.

*********************************************************************

"Tom?" Harry whispered, looking at me. I can't imagine how I looked. Probably suitably ethereal and otherworldly.

"Harry. Thank-you. I have been waiting so very long that I had almost given up on being set free of Him."

"Him?... what? I don't understand. What are you talking about? Are you trying to distract me, Voldemort. Think that if you wear his face, that I won't kill you?" Harry lifted a shaking and obviously fatigued hand, aiming his want at the vision before him.

"I'm not Lord Voldemort, Harry. I've just been… sharing with him for a while. I heard every thing that he said. Saw everything he did. I'm so sorry about your parents…"

Harry dismissed his words with a shake of his head. "How is that possible. You… you aren't the same person?"

"No. He- we aren't the same person. And yet we are. It's very complicated…"

"I think you had better explain anyway, Tom." Harry said to me, probably not fully realizing what I was.

"He did so many terrible things. But I'm not completely innocent. He came from inside me. He was a part of me."

I was at a loss as to how I could explain myself. But I knew I had to try; for the sake of my conscience, but especially for Harry's future well being.

"You're a shy person, aren't you Harry? Don't make friends easily? The kind of person who doesn't stand out in a crowd. And then he started talking to you."

Harry visibly recoiled from that one, shaking his head. Before he could jump in with denials, I said, "You know what I'm talking about, don't you Harry? It does happens to you too? At first it's like a voice, a whisper at the back of your mind, telling you not to be afraid, that you can do anything. He's never afraid.

"But He's not you. It's not  It's not your mind making those comments that occasionally spring out of your mouth. It's not your idea to search the restricted section, or to sneak out to spy on Malfoy. It's him.

"You don't know that, though. You don't even realise He's talking at first- that it's not just your imagination. How could there possibly be another person in your head?

"He begins to help you, make you feel better. He knows just what to say- to teachers, friends…girls. Tells you all the answers, just what to say in a sticky situation… What to do on the quidditch field? It's almost like He's there guiding your hand, making you faster. He's your best friend. Keeps all of your secrets- you can tell Him anything. You trust Him.

"And then He tells you that you could be more. That they would love you more if you were stronger, faster, more powerful. So you do things, sometime terrible things, to make them love you. You are strong to start with. You have a gift. But that gift works against you, making you thirst to have more power. You constantly thirst for more. Until you hurt the people you love, the people you did this to help, to protect. And then you are lost. That's when He becomes strong, when He shows His true face.

"And you see everything. Hear everything. But you can't do anything. He has done this before. He's spoken through you. Stepped in when something needed to be done and you couldn't do it. But now He won't let go. And you're forever doomed to live life through His eyes, living like a passenger; through Him. And the worst thing is, when it comes down to it, He's become you.

Harry looked stricken, like someone had slapped him in the face with a dead cat. Shock, distaste, horror, and a small measure of fear. I knew I was confusing him.

"Other people don't know that it's not you talking, laughing,… hurting people. They don't know that you are locked inside, unable to help. Unable to scream.

"Instead of you living your life, with occasional interference and commentary from Him, you become locked inside the back of your own mind, able to observe and mourn, but not able to affect the things around you.

"Until He gives you a choice. Join with Him, be one with him. One body, one mind, one purpose. Or be discarded forever, out into a black nothingness. Like being asleep forever, but being forbidden to dream.

"You fear him, but you fear more the world that comes after, where punishments are decided for things done far more. And so you agree.

"You join with him. Become one. And then you can no longer blame Him or deeds done, because you've become HIM. The monster."

The grief almost seemed to overwhelm him, pouring off him in waves. He was not there, more  an ethereal spirit than physical, but he still looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"I don't know if that will happen to you though. I've only ever met one other person with my …gift" he spat the word out, "and your father died before I could ask him if he warred with the same Daemons as I.

"I can only hope that He was an anomaly. And now dead, can never hurt anyone again, though, I can't help but believe that this is not over.

"Perhaps it has barely begun."

I could feel the pull of something else. Like someone calling my name that I couldn't see or here. And I knew that it was my time to leave.

"Before I leave, Harry. A word of warning. Two actually.

"Everything He did, wasn't just Him. Sometimes you come along for the ride. Sometimes you're the one holding the wand. As much as you want to tell yourself that you aren't the one hurting people, you can; even those you love.

"And two –  always be on your guard. From Him, of course, but He's not your only threat. Sometimes your greatest enemies are those who mean you no ill will, and sometimes they only wear the mask of innocence, those who claim to be friends. It's in human nature to take advantage of a situation, of people. Even those you love. People will try to use you, as I was used. And when you no longer serve a purpose, will discard you. Because your very existence threatens them. You become too dangerous to live. And they will try to be rid of you. Because you tried to make the world a better place in a way that they did not agree with, you will be killed. For the Greater good.

"He may have been terrible. A monster. But He didn't lie.

"Good luck, Harry Potter. You'll need it."

And with that he vanished.

*********************************************************************

Harry looked around him at the faces of his best friends and mentors; his family. Each of them looked as shocked as he must. And yet, underneath that, a glimpse, like a small flicker, at once there and gone again, behind their eyes. With some, it was horror with what had occurred there, others a flash of…fear?

They feared him?

The teachers could not look him in the eyes. It was if they were hiding something.

Was it possible?

Could Tom have been right? Could Voldemort have been telling the truth?

Harry slowly walked up to Dumbledore's side; the older man looking as if he too had taken a blow.

"Sir?" Harry asked, almost in a whisper. The Old Man looked to be in shock, as if he couldn't believe what had happened.

'Sir!" Dumbledore turned to face him. There! Harry saw it; that flash of hesitation, of wariness. Fear.

"Is what he said true, sir? Was he lying to me?"

"Harry, he was an evil man. What he said was…cruel. Designed to make you question yourself."

"You didn't answer my question, Headmaster." Harry was cold. Frozen. How could this be? Had his whole life for the past seven years been a lie?

"You must understand that it was necessary. You were the only one who could do it, Harry. Everything rested on your shoulders. And you did it, Harry. You defeated Voldemort. You did it when no one could." He looked as if he had to force the cheer into his voice; he was still recovering from the shock the past few minutes.

"Headmaster…" Harry whispered. "How…why? Was everything a lie?"

Dumbledore's shoulders seemed to slump, making him look even more the tired old man.

"Everything was necessary. We did what needed to be done to protect everyone.

We may be wizards, Harry, but we're still human. Nobody is perfect."

"No, you're right. He told me we were very alike; Tom and I. But I think I saw a similarity elsewhere, Headmaster. Voldemort…and you. All of you. You all used me. For you're own ends, regardless of what would happen to me or those that I loved. You needed me to kill Him. And Voldemort…he needed me to kill him as well. He wanted to die, Headmaster. And he made me do it, because he couldn't do it himself." Harry felt like lashing out, his anger and hurt so great that he could feel his organs seize in his chest.

Dumbledore sighed. "It was for the greater good, Harry."

"And when you no longer need me? When I become too powerful to control? When we no longer agree on what is necessary? What then?"

Harry looked into the old man's face. A face that had seemed to age twenty years in the past few minutes. New fatigue lines seemed to be present, creasing the war-torn, and aged face. Harry had never seen him look so old.

 Dumbledore turned and walked away, the group of teachers who had stood quietly behind him turning to follow. Even the other students; Hermione, Ron, and a few others, after a look at Harry, decided that it would be tactful to leave him to his thoughts. After such a display of power, no one wanted to interrupt him if he was in a disagreeable mood.

Harry didn't watch as they all left him; almost didn't seem to register it at all. It was if they had already left- abandoned him- after he had heard Voldemort's- and Tom's- words. And now he was alone.

Always had been, really. Had to take care of himself, not depend on anyone else. Would just have to be better at it from now on. No more displays of power, no more making nice with the staff- or the students for that matter. The walls literally had ears.

Harry watch the ragged group lumber up the rise to the school's entrance. All together. And safe. The Bad Man is dead now, boys and girls. You can sleep well tonight, Harry thought with more than a trace of bitter humour.

He watched while Dumbledore led the group through the gates and into the school.

He had never really answered Harry's question.

And Harry knew he never would.

Just as he knew he would never voluntarily step foot into that school again. Good thing the graduation ceremony had been two days ago, he thought bitterly. After having had seven years of his life spent in the school, he didn't want it all to be a complete waste. Not that he would go anywhere where he would be recognised, or heard of for that matter. So anywhere in the Wizarding world was out of the question. So that left the muggle world. A world with no Magic. Perfect.

He had always wanted to visit Australia. Hard to get further away from here than that. And easy to be lost in the throng.

After one last, long look at the only true home he had ever known, Harry Potter drew his cape around him and apparated.