A/N: Wow, after over a year of working on this it's difficult to believe that it's almost over. For all of you who have been faithfully reading despite the long time that it has been to post a mere eight chapters, thank you, and I hope you enjoy the ending. To all newcomers, thanks forgiving this rusty old fan fiction a chance! Thanks for everything, everyone! Please enjoy the much-awaited conclusion of Voldemort's Choice.
"If I fall and all is lost, no light to lead the way, remember that all alone is where I belong."
--"Cloud Nine" by Evanescence
The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Harry sat in his room, scratching away on a piece of parchment with a long quill. As he finished, he carefully folded the parchment and tucked it away in an envelope. He wrote the addressee's name on the front and left it there on his desk. Slowly he got up, sighed and took that envelope and another up to Ginny and Rose's room. Without bothering to knock he opened the door. Rose was inside, crying on her bed, but Harry ignored her. He went straight to Ginny's desk and placed the two envelopes inside.
"How long?" Harry asked. Rose looked up, confused, her face filled with tear stains.
"What?" she asked.
"How long have you wanted me gone?" Harry asked coldly as he shut the desk drawer. Rose's eyes widened.
"Oh, Harry…Harry, I love you, but…everyone is afraid of you…and the way you acted when we played Quidditch…Harry, you've just changed so much," she finished helplessly.
"Everyone's afraid of me. Damn straight," he snorted. "I expected them to be." His voice softened. "But I…I never thought you…my baby sister…would be afraid of me. I've driven everyone away…everyone. At twelve I ruined my life for forever. Maybe even before that." He sat next to her bed, his beautiful green eyes filled with tears and took her hand. "You know I love you, don't you, Rosie?" Rose burst into a fresh wave of tears. Rosie. She hadn't heard that name since Harry left. It was his special, teasing name for her. She nodded, not able to speak through her sobs. "That's all I needed you to know." He gave her a hug then got up to leave.
"Wait," she said. "W-wait! Where a-are you g-going?" her sobs broke her speech. He looked at her, pained.
"I have to do something that I should have done a long, long time ago," he said and turned to leave her room when a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley came in.
"Harry, there you are. Harry, Rose, darling…there are some people downstairs to see you," she said. Rose, still confused, got up and followed her. Harry sighed, shook his head and tagged along, most certain that this new batch of people was here to ridicule and belittle him as well. When they descended the staircase, Harry stopped cold in his tracks while Rose raced to greet the newcomers.
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"MUM! DAD!" she screamed and hugged them. They were crying, she was crying, they hugged one another fiercely. It was a picture perfect reunion. Not wanting to ruin the scene, Harry turned around to sneak back upstairs.
"Harry. Where do you think you're going?"
Harry turned slowly to look into the eyes of his father for the first time in six years.
"Dad?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse. James nodded.
"It's me, son," he said, and held out his arms. Against his better judgment, against everything he'd learned in the past six years, Harry ran straight to him and was enveloped in his father's arms.
"He said you were dead," Harry said, sobbing. James held onto him tighter.
"It doesn't matter, son. Whatever he did to you, whatever happened, we can put it behind us," said Lily as she enveloped him once James let him go.
"Mum," Harry said, and for one blissful moment, he allowed himself to forget. He allowed himself to let it all go—until it came back with a crushing force. Harry pulled away. "No." Lily looked at him, confused. Harry shook his head. "We can't put it behind us. As much as I wish…we can't. This doesn't change anything. I'm not the same person you left behind. I'm still wanted. This doesn't change what I have done. Everything has already been set in motion."
"What are you talking about, son?" James asked, confused, but before Harry could answer he fell to the ground, hissing in pain.
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
A light white lit up his arms and the top portion of his back and shoulders. When it stopped, there was a long tattoo of a snake running through that area. With a grunt, Harry got up and looked his entire family in the eye. He noticed that everyone was there. Sirius, Remus, his Mum, his Dad, the Weasleys, Rose and even Ginny. He looked each one of them in the eye in turn.
"This ends now," he said.
"Harry," Ginny said, stepping forward tentatively. "Harry, you can't do this by yourself."
"I won't be," he answered. "I have all of you."
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…"What's going on?" James demanded. Harry looked up at them all.
"I have to kill Lord Voldemort."
And either must die at the hand of the other,
This simple statement caused an eruption of emotion. Everyone had different opinions.
"Alert the Order. Voldemort wants a final battle, and he wants it now. The graveyard at Little Hangleton will play host to us this evening," Harry said. "Let's go."
With that, everyone apparated from the house, except for James who quickly scrawled a note to Professor McGonagall. He gave it to the Weasley's old owl and patted its head.
"She's probably already been alerted by the Death Eaters," James said to the owl quietly. "But you must take this to Professor McGonagall. Fly as you've never flown before." With that the owl took off with a hoot. James shook his head. The owl would never make it in time. But it didn't matter. James was sure McGonagall already knew. With a crack he disapparated and the Weasley house was empty.
They all arrived at the graveyard in Little Hangleton. A battle was already going on. Aurors and members of the Order alike were fighting against Voldemort's evil minions.
"Ah, Harry. I have been waiting for you," Voldemort said as Harry arrived in front of him.
"I'm sure you have been," Harry said quietly. "So, Voldemort. How long were you plotting to steal me away from my parents and use me to your own sick advantage?" Voldemort smiled.
"I see I underestimated your genius, my young apprentice," Voldemort said. "This was my plan since I took your parents into captivity. I warned them about escaping. I told them I'd kill their daughter—and so was my intent, but I miscalculated. You weren't yet finished in your training. You couldn't bring yourself to kill your stupid sister."
"I didn't finish my brainwashing, you mean," Harry snorted. "You didn't need to 'train' me. I was good enough on my own. You just needed to rid me of all the emotions you didn't understand. Well, guess what, Tom? It didn't work."
"I can see that. I never thought that it would be you who would betray me," Voldemort said with a heavy sigh, and was about to continue but Harry interrupted him.
"No!" Harry shouted. "No! It was you who betrayed ME! You kept my parents captive when you told me they were already dead. You tried to kill my sister. You tried to kill the one woman I love deeply. You used a distraught child to your own sick advantage."
"Don't try and excuse your sins by placing the blame on me. You know that what you did was of your own accord," Voldemort hissed. Harry looked on him with cold eyes.
For neither can live while the other survives…
"Like hell I was trying to take the blame off myself. I was only saying that you are a sick psycho and don't deserve to walk this Earth anymore than I do. Your one weakness has always been in your underestimation of me. So Voldemort, I'll see you in hell," he said, and then he thought of everything that the sick man had done to him. He thought of his parents, stuck inside of a cell for six years. He thought of Rose, and how he'd missed so much of her life. He thought of Ginny, and how much love he had lost. "Avada Kedavra," Harry shouted the last, and, unable to comprehend that Harry had really uttered that phrase, Voldemort delayed too long in his conjuring of a shield and he was overtaken by the green burst of blinding light.
When everyone had their vision back, there was nothing left of Voldemort save a black mark on the ground from the explosion. Harry turned to the rest of the battle with his eyes as green as the curse. The battle had ceased; the Order was cheering and the Death Eaters were running with a few Aurors chasing after those surviving. Ginny, Rose, his parents and the Weasleys could only look on in awe, along with many others. Ginny and Rose had tears in their eyes. At the very least they understood what was about to happen.
"Harry," said Rose slowly, "Harry, you're a hero." Harry shook his head.
"I'm afraid not. Goodbye, everyone. One good deed doesn't make up for a lifetime of sin," Harry said, acknowledging the advancing Aurors. He put his wand to his heart.
"Harry!" Ginny sobbed.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…
"I love you, Ginny. Avada Kedavra," he whispered. There was another flash of green light, and Harry James Potter, the Snake and the Hero was no more.
To my dear son:
What does a murderer about to die say to his not yet born child? Do I tell you the story of my life? Do I give advice? I have long since lost the memories of my own childhood—I haven't a clue what my own father would say. Your mother will tell you who I was, but I will tell you something that she cannot convey, because she can't completely understand.
People will worship you and the same people will spit in your face. You are the son of the Snake, and if my plan goes as intended, the Hero as well. The Snake and the Hero—seems that should be two separate people, doesn't it? The truth is, it shouldn't. What is truly evil? What is truly good? True, I was never good. I murdered. Or I as good as murdered. But, what did I murder for? If someone told you that a young boy had recently lost his parents and been taken into a deep depression where one person—a bad influence—decided to be his friend, the only friend he had, and so the boy murdered because that was what his friend, his only friend, the only person in the world who cared about him, told him to do, what would you say? Would you say, that poor child? Would you say that he was misunderstood? Or would you say that he deserved to die, that he was a monster? It is all in the way you perceive the world you are presented with.
Don't listen to people. Form your own opinions. Be manipulated by no one—but trust. God, please my boy, trust. Trust that you will always be loved by someone. Trust in all that is Light and Good. Trust that someone will always be there for you. Trust others. Trust in yourself and your own integrity. Never doubt. Never become guarded. Keep an open mind.
You will be spat on, you will be revered—all by people. People are forgiving and unforgiving. People are fickle. Don't be like all other people. Be like you. You are my son. Though you are not yet born and hardly have been conceived I love you. I love you with all the love my hardened heart can give.
If one day you wonder why I did what I did, just remember this:
I love you. But one good deed doesn't make up for a lifetime of sin.
Your Loving Father,
Harry James Potter