Chapter Eighty-three

"I've come to kill Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed as the hall emptied. "I've been waiting to get him at his moment of true happiness, and it appears that I've chosen the perfect time! Here he stands, holding his foretold love in his arms, ripe for the picking."

Araminta threw herself in front of Harry, arms outstretched. "He can't help the smell! I bet the costume is rented, right?" She felt, rather than saw, Harry's nod.

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "You look familiar, for some reason, but never mind that now. Get out of the way. I'm going to kill him."

"Have you no mercy?" Araminta screeched. "At least let me say goodbye!"

"Fine. But make it snappy." Voldemort lowered his wand.

Araminta turned to Harry and passionate green eyes met gray-green. "I wanted you to know, Harry, that I am your foretold love. The prophecy you heard that night outside Dumbledore's office wasn't about Draco. It was about me."

"I've been wondering about that," Harry said. "I meant to ask you...you told us your name was Malpot, but on your medical records--I read them by accident when you let me give them to Madam Pomfrey for you, that day when you fainted--you wrote that your name was Malfoy-Potter."

"Yes, I did. Both of those names are mine...in the future, things went wrong. Hermione forced you and Draco together for your own happiness, because she didn't know that the Malfoy you were supposed to love wasn't Draco."

Harry tilted his head to one side. "Was the prophecy about Lucius, then? I don't know Narcissa as well."

"No," Araminta said. "Draco and Hermione are my parents, and like I said before, the prophecy is about me."

"How did you get here?" Harry's eyebrows touched in confusion.

"An accident with a Time-Turner. I think I won't get to stay in this time much longer."

Voldemort yawned. "No, not if you're dead. Hurry it up."

Araminta decided that explanations were worthless at this point. "Just know that I love you." She took Harry's hand in hers and began to sing with a voice more beautiful than phoenix song. She sang a song by Dolly Parton (which is generally misattributed to Whitney Houston).

And I will always love you

I will always love you

"Woe!"

Araminta and Harry were startled out of their music-videolike reverie.

"Alas!" Voldemort had crumpled to the floor and tears leaked from the corner of his ugly eyes. "Your voice...it burns...it's so precious..."

Araminta patted Voldemort's shoulder. "You know, when I'm sad, I like to take a bit of sugar. Would you like a piece of candy?" She fished around in her bodice for a piece.

Voldemort nodded, a few sobs still hissing their way out between his lips. He unwrapped the candy Araminta gave him and popped it into his mouth.

And then he fell over, motionless.

"What have you done?" Harry asked in surprise. "Is he dead?"

"No, he's just passed out. I gave him a Fainting Fancy."

Harry grinned. "This is wonderful! Now he can go to Azkaban where he belongs."

"Absolutely not." Araminta decided to put her foot down. "Don't be so wishy-washy about it. You have to kill him."

Harry rolled his eyes, but mumbled "fine" and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Shaking slightly, he walked forward and raised his wand for the killing curse. As he pronounced the fatal words, he sneezed.

"Aveda...ah-choo...Kedavra."

Voldemort was lifted into the air by an unseen wind and he hung there, glowing softly at about the brightness of a nightlight or a few candles. He began to sparkle, and then he started to really shine. First, his body filled out so that it was a healthy shape. Next, his skin healed and looked new again. Then, his eyes turned from red to a beautiful blue and finally his hair grew curly and dark again.

Where a nasty old wizard had been stood a handsome young man of about sixteen, wearing Slytherin robes. He conjured a mirror and looked at himself in awe.

"How can I ever thank you two?" he asked. "Look at me!"

"Who would have known you were so good-looking?" Araminta said to herself. "Harry, you must have accidentally performed the makeover charm!"

Harry looked from his wand to Tom Riddle in disbelief. "I must have. But he's still an evil monster!"

"Not anymore," Tom proclaimed. "It's impossible to be a thing of beauty and be evil at the same time. It just can't happen. Evil makes you ugly faster than smoking, beer, and littering combined. Anyway," he said, staring at his reflection again, "now that I look so good, I don't feel like doing bad things anymore."

"Remind me to introduce you to a guy named Lockhart," Harry snorted.

Tom Riddle put the mirror in his pocket. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to go. I have amends to make with a lot of people."

"No problem." Araminta gave him a kiss on the cheek and Harry shook his hand. "I think my parents would be proud of both of us."

Voldemort gave them one last thankful smile and Disapparated.