Part IV: Ghost of Halloween Future
He cautiously opened one eye. He was back in his own bed. He sighed in relief.
The clock outside chimed three times. Really, this was getting annoying.
Suddenly the room grew very, very cold. He could see his breath floating in his face. On the window, ice formed and grew thick over the panes, almost like there was a Dementor coming.
From a dark corner, a figure walked out, seemly conjured from nothing. He was clad in robes of deepest black, lined with ruby threads throughout and a Gryffindor patch on his breast, his face covered with a hood. The only part of his face visible was his bright green eyes, the startling color of the Killing Curse. He paused at the foot of the bed. One alabaster white hand held a tall wooden staff adorned with complicated runes.
"I suppose you want me to come with you, then?"
The figure didn't say a word, but simply held out his hand. It was pale and bloodless. Voldemort sighed.
"Might as well get this over with then."
And he took the freezing cold hand.
When they reappeared, it was to a graveyard. Leaves fell from tree overhead onto the gravestones. Voldemort, curious, peeked at a few. They contained wizarding names. So, he was in a magical graveyard then.
A creak grabbed his attention. He looked around and saw a young man coming in through what appeared to be a kissing gate. He had black hair and was rather lanky. Though young, he moved as though he were older than his years. As he drew closer, Voldemort was startled to see that the young man was none other than Harry Potter. Up close, he could see a faint scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. Though he looked like a carbon copy of James Potter, his eyes were the same color as his mother's, bright emerald green.
Seized by a sudden suspicion, he turned to the Ghost. But the Ghost made no movement, only staring at the scene with his luminous eyes.
Harry walked by the two, stopping when he reached a grave plot.
"Hello, Mum, Dad," said Harry. "Wow, has it really been thirty years since you died? It sure doesn't seem that long."
Harry conjured a chair in front of his parents, so he was facing their gravestone.
"James is just like you, Dad, always getting into trouble. I hate to think what'll be like when he goes to Hogwarts." He looked at a memorial. "Sirius, for you, it's only been sixteen years, but it feels like a lot longer to me. You would be proud of James, too, he has your name as his middle name."
The young man swallowed and continued.
"Mum, Lily's only three, but she's so sweet. I imagine she's just like you were when you were little. She's made friends with everyone she meets. No such thing as a stranger with her.
"And of course, there's Albus Severus."
Voldemort started. Albus Severus? Why would Harry name his children after Dumbledore and Snape?
"He looks just like me. Well, minus the scars and unhappy childhood." He chuckled, his eyes flickering to another grave. "I bet Professor Snape rolled over in his grave when I named him that. But I had to. He protected me after you died. He died protecting me, and…I felt I owed him at least that much.
"Remus, Tonks, Teddy is growing up so fast. He'll turn fourteen on his next birthday. His favorite color is turquoise, keeps his hair that color almost all the time. He's taking Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy for his Hogwarts electives. Going to be just like you, Remus, he loves magical creatures. He didn't inherit the werewolf gene, so there's no problem with that."
Harry choked. "I am so sorry you all died because of me. If it wasn't for that stupid Prophecy, Voldemort wouldn't have come after us that night. If it wasn't for that vision of you getting tortured, I wouldn't have dashed off to the Ministry like that and gotten you killed, Sirius. And if it wasn't for me, Remus, Tonks, you would've seen your child grow up instead of dying at the Battle of Hogwarts when Teddy was barely a few months old. But I killed him, for you, for everyone he ever hurt. I killed Voldemort."
"KILLED ME?" roared Voldemort. But Harry didn't move, continuing to talk to his deceased relatives. "How could he kill me? I've got my Horcruxes! I am immortal!"
The Ghost said nothing.
"I've got to go now, I promised the kids I'd take them trick-or-treating. I never got to do that as a kid, so I get to go along. Lily's going as a princess, James decided to go as a pirate, and, get this, Albus wanted my old school robes so he could go as me! Course, I had to drag out all of my old stuff and find a Hogwarts robe that wasn't turned to mothballs. I finally found one, one of my first-year robes. It was so small. But he's determined to wear it, even at age 5.
"Rose and Hugo are coming too. Ron wanted to come, but Hermione said no, he'd eat all their candy before they got back."
He touched the gravestone and, with a twirl of his wand, conjured multiple arrangements of differently colored flowers on the various graves.
"See you next year."
He walked away, hugging his cloak to himself to keep himself warm in the cool October air.
Voldemort cautiously stepped forward to the graves. The oldest stones were those of the Potters.
JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER
BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960
DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
Strange that that would be on their gravestones, mused Voldemort, considering it sounded like one of his mantras.
On Lily's side was another, separate gravestone that was almost touching hers.
SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE
BORN 5 JANUARY 1960
DIED 2 MAY 1998
Slytherin Soul, Gryffindor Heart
So that had been that date of his demise. And he wasn't talking about Snape.
He moved on.
Next to James Potter was a simple memorial with Sirius Black's name, date of birth and death upon it. It was the kind of memorial one puts down when there was no body to bury.
On Black's other side was another pair of graves.
REMUS LUPIN NYMPHADORA TONKS-LUPIN
BORN 10 MARCH 1960 BORN 13 APRIL 1973
DIED 2 MAY 1998 DIED 2 MAY 1998
They made a world in which their
son could live a happier life.
Odd words to choose. It wasn't a quote he knew, but it just seemed to fit the tombstone.
He turned to the Ghost.
"All right, what happened to my body, then?"
The Ghost stretched out a hand and pointed. Voldemort glanced in the general direction.
"What?"
The Ghost said nothing, but continued pointing. Exasperated, Voldemort began walking in that direction, winding around the gravestones. As he did, he noticed that everything was gradually becoming darker, the gravestones dissolving away except for flickers of red-orange light ahead. As he drew closer, he realized the light was actually contained fire on wands held by people. He tried to push through the crowd, but soon realized that being invisible also meant being intangible and simply walked through the people to the front.
On a table was himself. Or, rather, his body. It looked the same as it did right now, though still and silent. A simple black robe was all that adorned his body. Beside him, loosely held in his right hand, was his yew wand.
A younger than the gravestone scene Harry Potter came first with his wand. Chanting a spell, he covered the body with a liquid that smelled quite nasty. He then said another spell and fire erupted from his wand and caught the body on fire.
The witches and wizards congregated there simultaneously raised their wands high and released the contained spells, causing the fire to shoot up into the sky and create brilliant flashes of light.
He watched in fascination as his body burned itself beyond recognition, then turned to ash, which was scattered in the wind. His wand too was burned into ash. There wouldn't be any chance of resurrection.
He shivered. So this was the end result of his life, to be beaten by a mere child once, then beaten again when that child grew up. Was it really worth it all, when it was obvious that his efforts to become immortal were all in vain?
"Take me away," Voldemort said to the Ghost. "I can't stand this anymore. Take me back to my bed now!"
As he spoke, his voice became louder, but it didn't affect the Ghost, who just stared at him, the green eyes burrowing deep into his maimed soul. He didn't notice, but the people standing around his burning body disappeared, leaving only the funeral pyre.
"Please," whispered Voldemort. "No more. No more, please."
And with that, the greatest dark wizard of the century broke down in tears.
The Ghost said nothing, but raised his staff and pounded it once on the ground.
The flames that had been centered on his dead body on the table now came alive. They twisted into large snakes, hissing and undulating. To Voldemort's horror, he could hear them hissing "Burn" repeatedly in Parseltongue. Like Fiendfyre, they began circling him, each time getting closer and closer. He felt his robes burst into flame and soon his entire body was on fire as they made inevitable contact.
He screamed even as he heard the Ghost laugh.
OK, if you've gotten this far, you're dying to see the last chapter. Tune in tomorrow! In the meantime, let me know!