A/N: Here is ending number two. I will be doing a post script on this to give a little explanaition on some things. Not too much though. Remember to review after this chapter! I will try my best to answer any questions you have. Again, thank you so much for sticking with me! 3

The locker room reeked of sweat that hit like a wall as she entered the room. It had become familiar over the years, but it was still a bit of a shock. All around her, People were moving about with pregame jitters. Some were fine tuning the already immaculately groomed twigs in the latest broom put out by Firebolt. While still others were swinging beater bats around and making pregame jokes about the match they would soon be playing against Wimbourne Wasps. Amidst all the confusion, Hermione weaved her way though the sea of pumped wizards and witches carefully adjusting her son's hand so as not to lose him as the crowd greeted him enthusiastically.

Finally, behind the rows of benches, past the empty shower stalls and the metal lockers that were painted deep purple with a golden star she found the person she was looking for. He stood in front of a large white board with animated stick figures bouncing in formation. Occasionally he would raise his wand to change the positioning of a certain character before resuming his careful study. He was so engrossed, that he barely noticed Hermione walk up behind him and whisper into his ear. "I liked it better when the purple X was doing that weird swirly thing around the board.

Harry smiled and took a deep relaxing breath as he leaned into his wife.

"Daddy!" he heard a small voice say just before the source hit his leg in a big hug.

"Hello there, Sean!" he said picking up his son and turning to give his wife a quick kiss. "What brings you into the belly of the beast?"

"I brought you a present, Daddy!" he said turning expectantly to his mum.

Hermione reached into her small hand bag and pulled out a piece of paper. A grin broke across Harry's face at the site of the stick figure version of him—complete with Lightening bolt scar on his forehead—zooming on his broom chasing an overly large golden snitch. Hermione had clearly enchanted because the figures were actually moving around on the page. "That is the best drawing I've ever seen!" Harry exclaimed swinging Sean around in a circle. "Thank you so much!"

"Did you see that I even got your scar from defeating the bad man!" he said proudly.

"I saw it! Now, I think that your Aunt Ginny had something for you over at her locker. Why don't you go check it out so I can talk with Mummy."

The second Sean's feet hit the ground, he was barreling off in the red head's direction.

Harry wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her in a way that might not have been appropriate in front of his teammates, but he didn't care. He pulled back and smiled down at her. "I love you!"

She leaned against his chest and sighed, listening to his heartbeat. "And I love you." raising her head so that her mouth was pressed to his ear she whispered despite the fact that no one could hear over the noise. "How are you feeling?"

Harry stiffened, but didn't let go. Instead, simply kissed her hair and whispered, "Not so well, but I have a game to focus on. They are counting on me."

Hermione pulled back and examined his face worriedly. At only twenty-five, he was already showing signs of wear. His hair had flecks of gray and his eyes had bags under them from lack of sleep. He constantly looked as if he were recovering from a bad bout of flu. In the past year however, things had been getting worse. When sleep did visit him, his dreams were filled with nightmares of the man he had faced nearly five years prior taking over his body and one by one lilling the people he loved. She had been working round the clock trying to figure out a remedy, but so far nothing had worked. "I wish there were something I could do," she said helplessly, running a finger across his forehead tracing his scar before cupping his cheek.

"We could talk to someone. You know? Tell them what really happened that night. Maybe that has something to do with it."

"Harry, we've been through this! According to my research," Harry had a flashback of her in school telling him random facts about Hogwarts, "who actually performed the curse has nothing to do with what we are dealing with here."

"But—"

"Harry," she cut him off, "I cannot be the hero of the people that you are. I won't do it! I don't want the glory."

"Neither do I!"

"I know you don't! But I am sure that who or who didn't take down You-Know-Who has nothing to do with anything. Please don't ask me again..."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, love." He reached out and pulled her back to him.

As he held her, Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was letting him down and she didn't know why.

"It's almost time," he said, looking at his watch over her shoulder. "You had better take Sean and find your proper seats."

She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss just as Sean came running up to her holding a full sack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He was babbling on about boggie flavor as Hermione turned with him to leave Harry to study some last minute plays.

Before she could fully turn, however, Harry grabbed her sleeve. She turned to him a questioning look on her face. "I know you are trying," he said pulling her into another bone crushing hug and giving her a kiss that made everyone in the vicinity whoop and cheer. "I love you."

She didn't respond immediately, but continued to look at him with questions floating in her mind. The kiss reminded her of something, but she couldn't remember what. Just then, and announcer's voice boomed about the room and pitch announcing ten minutes left until the start of the game. "I love you too," she said as Sean gave Harry one last hug, as they both headed out of the locker room.

You know you don't really love her, a cold voice taunted him in his head.

"Shut up!" Harry said through clenched teeth trying to shake the voice from his mind. He had never told Hermione about how the dreams were slowly morphing from taunts into his sleep to taunts in his head.

You know I'm winning, Potter, the cold voice said so loudly that the noise of the locker room was suddenly shut out. You are weakening. Soon this will no longer be your body, but mine! Won't it be ironic? The boy who saved the world turning into the one who will conquer it once more. You know I had toyed with the idea of creating a new body for myself, but I think I might just keep yours!

A searing pain pushed through Harry's temples. The scar that was the mark of the evil piece of soul he carried burned unbearably on his skin. All of a sudden, it was like he was in his dreams once more being dragged backwards towards a doorway. Beyond the arch was a blackness that he feared more than the taunting, more than the other terrors. In every dream he had always been able to break free of the force dragging him by turning on him and locking him in the room instead. This time, however, he couldn't fight as hard. The pain was too much. He had allowed himself to become too weak.

With one final push, Voldemort pushed him through the door in his mind, locking him tightly behind the bars. Harry screamed terrified as the last essence of the most evil wizard of all time walked away laughing at his victory.

"HARRY!" Someone shouted shaking his shoulders violently.

Voldemort blinked several times, trying to adjust himself in the new body as he desperately tried to keep said body's owner locked up tight. The sensation was filthy, sharing a body with a half-blood. Yet it was good to be free of the prison that the Potter boy stuck him in surrounded by the awful love of his son and wife—the disgusting mudblood. The only way he had been able to survive was by twisting the hatred and regret that spooled within Potter. Even if this last Horcrux had been made by accident, he was glad that it had at least happened with someone old enough to carry some bitterness about life. If he had been younger and filled with more love and happiness, Voldemort feared he may never have been able to manipulate his freedom.

"Harry?" a redheaded witch shook him when he didn't respond. "Are you okay? You were having some sort of fit." The rest of the quidditch team surrounded him looking concerned. "Do you want us to get the medic?"

A broad very un-Harry smile spread across his face as he struggled to his feet still fighting for control. "No, I'm fine. Better than fine."

Ginny looked at him confused and nodded to the other players who went back to whatever they had been doing before. She waited until they had gone to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. He looked at it with disgust, calling on rusty acting skills to keep from killing her on the spot as she touched him with her blood traitor hands. "Listen, I know you have been having trouble sleeping. I've talked with Hermione and Kate about it. If you aren't feeling up for this, I can cover for you and we will just substitute in one of the alternates in my place."

"No, no," Voldemort quickly adjusted his voice as it sounded more high pitched than Harry's. "Just been a bit ill. I'm feeling well now, though."

Ginny nodded uncertainly, but didn't move away.

"I'm fine, really!" he could barely contain the cruelty in his voice. "You can go now."

Ginny looked a little hurt, but she forced herself to ignore it. "Aren't you going to talk to the team before we head out onto the pitch like you always do?" She shouted at his retreating back.

Voldemort had already picked up his broom and was halfway to the door. He stopped in the middle of where everyone stood and gave them all a look so terrifying that it sent shivers around the circles though none of them knew why. "I think I'd rather we just get on with it."

Ginny nodded and raised her voice that now trembled with fear. Something was different, something was wrong. "You heard the man! Let's wipe the floor with these chaps!"

A halfhearted cheer went up as they all took broom in hand and walked out onto the pitch. Eying Harry, Ginny walked out next to him trying to put a finger on what was different about him. She mounted her broom, watching Harry shake hands with the other teams captain. He was stiff as they all took to the air. Just the referee tossed the quaffle straight up, she caught one final glimpse of his as he made his way to fly high above the field. What she saw almost made her drop the quaffle.

As he looked at her and smiled she could have sworn, before he turned away, his eyes flashed red.

~*\/*~ FIN ~*\/*~

Post A/N: Alright, so I know that the question of the hour floating around is probably, "Why did the Horcrux take over Harry in this one and not the other?" I have been pretty faithful to cannon themes throughout this story, so I want to explain myself. Here's my reasoning.

I figure that at the moment that Hermione cast the unforgivable curse on Voldemort, his curse was rebounding on him as it did in cannon causing him to cleave his soul just like it happened in the book. I deduced (though it is never really said) that Harry's scar is a sign of the Horcrux-hence why it is in this story as well. If you think about it, Voldemort has always been able to manipulate people's negative emotions to get them to do what he wants. In the books, when Lily and James are killed, Harry is still too young to keep hold of any real bitterness or hatred in him. He is, in all senses of the word, pure. In this version, Harry is still good, but his isn't pure. He just watched Voldemort kill his mother after being told the Deatheaters practically beat and raped her to death first. He is going to have bitterness and anger and regret that he didn't get there sooner. This is something Voldemort can get a handle on. You can see in the books after Cedric is killed, how Voldemort manipulates Harry using that bitterness and sadness to make him lash out at everyone around him. I think if Harry were older and more inclined, Voldemort would have been able to defeat him much more easily because let's face it, adults are jaded. That is the reason the Horcrux is able to take over.

I want you to also keep in mind that this whole internal dialogue between him and Voldemort is going on in the first ending as well, but because he has made up his mind to die he is able to use his last bit of strength to keep the Dark Lord at bay. Either way you feel about suicide, I think what he did in the first chapter is more noble. It is very similar to what he did in the beginning.

And why did he do it during a quidditch match instead of just doing it at home or something? First off, the Horcrux wants to protect itself so he couldn't really manage hanging himself of wrist slitting. Second off, Harry wanted to protect Hermione from the ridicule ripple effect that follows suicide. He didn't want to look like a coward in front of her and his kid. So he died a hero giving the world a gift that he would never get credit for. It was more like killing Voldemort than himself anyway.

If you guys have anymore questions, please review/PM and I would be happy to answer you. This fan fiction is so much more than what is on the page, I just couldn't get it all out and bring the story full circle. Hell, I even wrote out a scene that is Harry telling his dad that Hermione is pregnant that might make an appearance as a one shot one day.

Until then, thank you for reading my rant. Thank you for reading my story. Just thank you!

~Oli