a/n: Please be considerate to other readers and DO NOT INCLUDE SPOILERS IN YOUR REVIEWS.
Chapter 26: Monstrous Wagers
Grindelverse
"Ah," said Tom Riddle, sipping quietly at his tea from inside his impossible safehouse. "I see you've found your way back, Lady Lies."
Draco had coached her through the process of returning. It would be the same as normal apparition, he'd said, only she'd have to feel around for something he'd left open; like shattered glass, between here and there. He'd said it would feel like being lost, at least for a moment; there would be a second, according to him, where she would feel she was suspended in space, existing in nothing, but if she just kept moving—kept going—if she simply ignored her sense of weightless incorporeality and stuck to her deliberation—she would eventually pass through it, and land on her feet.
Then he'd opened his mouth, as if maybe he'd wanted to say something else, and hesitantly opted not to.
"I'll see you soon," Draco ultimately told her, which had been a gift in itself. It was as close to come back to me as she thought either of them were ready for, and she'd stepped away, ready to finish what she'd started; ready to go back to the universe she could have spent a lifetime never understanding could be real.
She shook herself of the memory, refocusing on the task at hand.
"Yes, I'm back," she said to Tom Riddle, "and I brought some friends, too."
Behind her, Lily took a step forward. On her left, Harry and Theo, who had been waiting for her in James Potter's study at precisely the moment she'd come back, stood with their arms folded in their lofty, aristocratic way.
"You left one behind, I see," Tom noted, chuckling to himself as he scanned the expectant faces beside hers. "Where is Mr Malfoy?"
They'd left Draco behind with Ron, who was finding himself with a newfound liking for being in control of a situation. When this universe's Draco had launched to his feet at the sight of her—demanding to know where she'd been and also, how she'd dared to leave him like this—Ron had casually stunned him again, nodding to her in greeting. ("Glad you made it back! Everything is fine," he said cheerfully, and Hermione had agreed that it was, much to her surprise.)
"Draco is otherwise occupied," Hermione told Tom smoothly, "unless you object to handling this between us? Which I doubt."
"Handling what, exactly?" Tom countered, one leg crossed lazily over the other from where he sat. "As far as I know, Lady Lies, our business is long concluded, so unless someone," he said, fixing a pointed glance at Lily, "would like to give me what I'm owed—"
"You and I both know the wand means nothing to you," Hermione cut in, drawing his attention back to her, and in response, Tom arched a brow, amused.
"You think I have no use for an unbeatable wand?" he asked, doubtful. "It's possible you misunderstand the word 'unbeatable,' then, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I'm sure you want it," Hermione permitted, "but we both know you don't need it. You could have taken it from Grindelwald at any time, couldn't you?" she asked him, and he gave no response, merely taking a long, measured sip of tea. "You could have taken over this universe just as easily as your horcruxes took over that one," she said, waiting to see if he would register surprise or recognition (he did not) before continuing, "but you didn't. You could have threatened Lily, enacted your network, forced her to give you the wand—but you didn't. You've been so very careful here, haven't you, and why, exactly?" she asked, to which he glanced up at her, half-smiling.
"I can see you're working up to a point," he said. "Care to make it?"
"Yes," she said flatly. "I think you made a deal with Dumbledore. I'm guessing it happened around 1947, when you disappeared from our universe and died in this one."
This had been Theo's contribution. Upon her return to their universe, he'd mentioned to her they'd discovered a few things about the Tom Riddle who had actually been born here, including the fact that his death certificate would only have been magically issued in the event of a natural death. This universe, then, was down one Tom Riddle for some period of time, which must have made the vacancy a compelling opening.
"I think," Hermione said, "after you met with Dumbledore—after he denied you a job," she clarified, "and then he accused you of beginning to make horcruxes—he offered you the one thing you've never been able to resist."
"Which is?" Tom asked languidly.
"A challenge," Hermione said, as Tom's smile twitched again, ostensibly pleased. "He told you about the universes, didn't he?" she guessed, and this, too, he seemed perfectly content and completely unsurprised to hear. "He did it to prove to you he was smarter than you were yet again, so when he offered you a very simple game—colonization," she clarified, at which point his shoulders stiffened slightly, "you took it, obviously. The concept that you might beat him at anything was compelling enough, but the idea of mastering multiple universes as well as death itself… surely it was undeniable," she finished expectantly.
"Isn't it just?" Tom agreed.
"Mm," Hermione said, before shifting to the crux of the issue. "But he gave you a caveat, didn't he?"
It was this universe's Harry who'd come up with the finer details involved in this. In this universe, he'd reminded them, Tom Riddle wasn't known for violence. In fact, he hadn't killed anyone the entire time he'd been there, operating instead as a harmless profiteer Grindelwald couldn't touch for lack of any traceable crimes. What, then, might have curbed the violence he'd possessed ostensibly from birth? Only the worst possible consequence, Harry had said darkly, which, for him, must have been losing.
"You weren't allowed to kill anyone to win," Hermione said, and Tom blinked, registering it with the stiffening of his shoulders. "If you did, Dumbledore won by default, didn't he? Which you got around, of course. You revived one of your horcruxes; essentially, you cloned yourself, so that you could still win even while breaking the rules. It must have soothed you quite a bit, didn't it?" she asked him innocently. "Knowing you were still a thorn in Dumbledore's side in his universe, but he couldn't touch you in yours."
"Quite a presumption," Tom said, glancing past her to Harry and Theo. "What makes the two of you so sure a man who has so long been dead here merits any significance to me in another?"
"I'm so glad you asked," Theo sniffed. "Normally people simply continue on as if I'm not here."
Tom arched a brow.
"Oh, no, that's all," Theo said, shrugging. "I appreciate being asked, but I think she's got this handled."
"My 'presumption,' as you put it, is sound," Hermione supplied, drawing Tom's attention back to her. "And you play with all of us based on your 'presumptions,' don't you? That's what this is, after all. All this game is, in fact, is you manipulating the people around you based on what you presume matters to them," she pointed out. "With Lily, it was desperation. It was fear. With Remus, it was protection; you were the alpha when he had no one to follow, and with Narcissa, it was boredom, wasn't it?" she asked him, and his mouth twitched again, with laughter this time.
"I suppose," he said drily, "among other things."
"You certainly had me sorted," Hermione told him, grudgingly trading the small victory of admitting she'd been fooled once for the sanctity of knowing she wouldn't be again. "You knew I didn't trust you, so you did the one thing that would unnerve me most: you proved yourself competent," she said, and caught the signs of him laughing silently in reply. "You proved you were reliable. You made me question everyone around me, and you got into my head—which you must have known was the most vulnerable place for me to be," she said, and to that, he chuckled aloud.
"And why Dumbledore, then?" he asked her. "Surely Dumbledore, whom you apparently admire so deeply, would have know better than to make such a foolish deal with someone like me?"
"See, this is the reason I know he made this deal," Hermione said simply, "because what's most important to Dumbledore?"
Tom's teeth slid out against his lip, mocking. "Love, I take it?"
"No. The greater good," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Dumbledore thought if he could neutralize you as a threat, you'd both be better off—he'd stop you from killing, you'd be gone and have no way to beat him, and perhaps it would end there. Luckily he was smart enough to make it difficult for you to come back, even if his imagination wasn't quite sinister enough to predict what you'd do before you left."
"You forgot one other thing," Tom pointed out, leaning back in his chair with a lofty sense of finality. "Dumbledore is dead now. Thus, were I playing any such game, the resolution is quite obvious, isn't it? He lost."
"Maybe so, but you still haven't won," Hermione said, watching Tom's fingers tighten around the handle of his teacup. "You still don't have an Elder Wand, and you still haven't made your way back. And," she said, toying with the words, "you also need a new opponent, don't you?"
For the first time, Tom's face betrayed an element of surprise, his brow furrowing just enough to know she'd guessed correctly. "What makes you think I require an opponent?"
"Well, what exactly is the point of going home without one?" Hermione asked neutrally. "So you get to come back—so what? Dumbledore isn't there," she reminded him. "You'd have no one to lord your victory over."
"I suppose you may be new to despotism," he said wryly, "but as a reminder, I'd have an entire universe to rule."
"You already have one of those," Hermione said, referencing the one they were currently standing in. "It doesn't interest you, Tom. Not really. What you actually love," she murmured, pointedly dropping her voice to a near-whisper, "is the game, and now that Dumbledore is gone and his network diminished to almost nothing, you have no one left to play."
He blinked, then smiled slowly.
"Is that an offer?" Tom asked slyly, and this time, Hermione permitted herself a hearty laugh.
"Oh, even if I were that stupid, no, of course not," she assured him. "For one thing, I've already done you a favor. I'm in your network, and the last thing someone can be in a game like this is connected to the person they're playing, isn't it? For example, imagine," she mused, "if you'd once done Albus Dumbledore a favor, and then he had some sort of control over you. What would that mean, Tom?" she asked him softly, taking a step forward. "If you defied him, what would happen to you?"
For the first time, she'd made a threat, and he registered it. "You think you know something, Lady Lies," he said slowly. "Yet you continue to forget Albus Dumbledore is dead."
"Just as you continue to forget Albus Dumbledore would have been prepared for that," she told him. "Remember? Dumbledore loves the greater good. He can see beyond himself, but that was always your flaw, wasn't it? That you can't possibly believe anything is bigger than you."
"If there's something I'm missing, by all means, enlighten me," Tom invited her, with all the solemnity of someone who very much doubted it. "I may have waited half a century to outmaneuver Dumbledore once, but I find there's a certain pressing value on my time now."
"Oh, there is a piece missing," Hermione assured him. "A very important one, in fact."
"And it is?" Tom asked expectantly.
"Me," said Harry, stepping forward to stand beside Hermione. "I'm the piece you never got, Tom. Dumbledore had the other version of me in your universe," he said, referencing Hermione with a nod, "but my mother kept you from me in this one, didn't she?"
"Harry," Lily said softly, pained, but Harry brushed her off in favor of addressing Tom.
"You need a new opponent," Harry said to Tom. "Make it me."
Tom's brow furrowed and relaxed so quickly Hermione nearly missed it.
"Why?"
"Because Dumbledore valued the other version of me above everyone else," Harry pointed out. "That version of me, for whatever reason, meant everything to Dumbledore—he was Dumbledore's favorite pawn, wasn't he? Which makes me your natural successor."
Tom's gaze slid to Lily. "You approve of this?"
"She has nothing to do with this," Harry said, cutting his mother off before she could speak. "I'm the one who wanted Grindelwald's position of power, and I had it within my grasp. Without my mother in the way, I'm precisely what you need. She can't act against you," Harry pointed out, glancing darkly at her, "not without killing me, and we both know she'd never harm me. So play me, Tom Riddle," he said, passing him a smile laden with danger. The Harry Potters were not so different; his, of course, was the recklessness of being born into privilege, as Hermione had known it would be. "Go back to your broken universe and pick up the pieces of the mess you've made," Harry said with a laugh, "and then let's see which one of us can outlast the other."
"What reason do I have to agree?" Tom asked, though Hermione had already seen traces of the greedy spark in his eye that meant he was teetering perilously on concession. "Why should I have any interest in creating an enemy out of a harmless teenager?"
Harry smiled grimly. "You know I'm not harmless, Tom. But if that offer's not sweet enough, then how's this?" he offered, holding up the Elder Wand for Tom's observation. "Take it with you, if you want. It was Dumbledore's, and now it could be yours."
Tom's eyes narrowed, flicking between Harry's face and the wand in his hands. "You really think I'd trust something so easily won?"
Harry shrugged. "I didn't say it would be easy. I said I could give it to you. If," he mused, taking another step forward, "you make a new deal with me. Agree to leave me this world," he suggested, offering the wand out to Tom, "and in return, you can have the wand and make a new one."
Tom, rightfully, remained unconvinced. "Where's Narcissa?"
"Elsewhere," Harry said without hesitation. "Though, I'm sure you'd be able to find her with ease," he mused, gesturing pointedly to the wand again, "if you were to give me what I want."
Hermione could see Tom's hands, always drawn to a shiny thing, fidgeting with anticipation.
"And what exactly do you want?" Tom asked, setting his tea down on the side table, forgotten.
"There will be a vacancy when you're gone," Harry said, shrugging. "There is one already, in Grindelwald's absence, and without you as a threat, I'm free to occupy it. Did you honestly think I wanted otherwise?" he asked drily. "Surely you didn't think I planned to be rid of Grindelwald purely for the thrill of it."
Tom's attention shot to Hermione. "What do you get out of this?"
She shrugged. "You already know I'm with Draco," she told him flatly. "It's not as if I have anything to lose by his gaining power, even by proximity to Harry."
Tom's mouth thinned tightly.
"Draco," he echoed, locking eyes with hers.
Go ahead, read my mind, Hermione thought with half a laugh. All you'll see is him.
Tom looked at Harry again, considering him for a long moment before rising to his feet.
"Do you really think," Tom said slowly, "that when Dumbledore made that deal with me, he chose wisely? I outlived him. I outgamed him." His attention flicked to Hermione, then to Theo, then to Lily, contemplating each of the people in the room. "Do you really think I would willingly choose to create my own enemy?"
"Yes," Harry said staunchly, and Hermione bristled, the air gone warningly stiff with tension now that Tom had begun prowling around, sleekly weighing their requisite threats. "I understand you, Tom," Harry told him. "We're the same."
Tom gave a dry laugh. "No one is the same as me," he said, and then, without change in tone, he made a small motion with his fingers, like plucking a harp string to the sound of, "Remus."
In answer, Remus lurched into being beside him. "Yes?"
Tom's mouth twitched. "I need a moment with Mr Black. The others can't touch me," he noted, glancing between Hermione and Lily with a look of satisfaction, the two of them having been minimized as threats long ago, "but I will need you to restrain Mr Nott."
It happened impossibly quickly. Theo was yanked backwards with a strangled cry of fury, his wand ripped from his hands by Remus, while Harry was left to stand alone in the center of the room, Tom circling him slowly.
"They can't touch me," he noted, gesturing to Lily and Hermione before referencing a struggling, maniacally outraged Theo, "and do you understand why that is?"
Harry gritted his teeth, nodding. "They're part of your little network of favors. They can't harm you, or anyone else who's ever carried out a favor on your behalf."
"Correct. And do you know how that wand in your hand is typically won?" he asked Harry, whose posture grew rigid as Remus, behind him, was avoiding Lily's furious glare, staring immovably at his feet. "It isn't given, Mr Black. Or should I say Mr Potter?" Tom mused, shaking his head. "Whoever you believe yourself to be," he said softly, leaning towards him, "this is not the way games are played."
"You can't kill me," Harry warned, swallowing hard. Beside Hermione, Theo's muscle spasmed from trying to rip himself free, the strength of Remus' spell holding him silently in place. "You haven't killed anyone, Tom," Harry said, mouth tightening, "in nearly fifty years. Dumbledore's rules prevent it."
To that, Tom permitted a slow, measured smile, dawning on his face like the start of a new era; like the cruel rays of the sun itself.
"Funny thing about that," Tom said, leaning close to Harry, "Dumbledore's already dead, isn't he?"
Potterverse
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Draco had asked, and in answer, Theo had given him a mangled slip of a wry smile.
"Nope," he'd said, but they'd both understood what he'd meant.
They'd been talking about a number of things. Firstly about The Plan, though it was so complex (and involving so little from them) they scarcely needed to go over it in detail again, which had lead them instead to what inexplicable events may or may not have transpired while they'd been apart.
"Potter?" Draco ventured, which Theo had clearly known was coming. He'd responded with a shrug, though it was clearly more defiance than impassivity.
"I didn't plan on it," Theo said.
Draco could hear the undertones Theo had perfected; the communication they'd long since abandoned needing to entertain aloud. I didn't plan on it, but he understands me, had been what Theo was trying to say, along with, Because I am who I am and he is who he is, it was always inevitable. It felt like I had always been waiting here for him, and now, how can I refuse?
"Is it—"
"Serious?" Theo guessed, shrugging again as Draco gave a muted indication of a nod. "Maybe. Maybe not. He has, you know. A war to fight." A little twitch of hesitancy. "A world to save."
"And you?" Draco asked, letting a few moments of consideration pulse between them, and Theo shook his head, glancing down at his hands.
"I have some wrongs to make right," he said slowly, "and then I think I'll fight for whatever he wants me to."
"Same," Draco said, which was the first thing he'd ventured so far to prompt Theo to surprise, his dark brow furrowing slightly. "What?" Draco asked, and then grimaced. "I mean, not like you, obviously," he amended quickly, "but look, I get it. There's a lot to fix." He shrugged. "Besides, can't let him do it alone. Potter?" Draco scoffed. "He's a human blasting curse. His primary skill is making a mess," he said firmly, "and left to his own devices, he'll fuck it all up."
Theo rolled his eyes. "Yeah."
A pause, and then Theo added, "You didn't seem surprised."
Draco figured it was best not to mention he'd already seen more than he needed to about what might happen between Harry Potter and Theo Nott. He'd certainly been in the room to witness enough from one version of them, and it was an experience that had at least one unintended effect of limiting whatever shock Draco had left to feel about it.
"I think it makes sense," Draco said slowly, recalling the stricken look on Harry's face at seeing Theo's pain once before. "What he's been through, what you've been through… it makes sense, honestly. You both have pasts that line up, somehow," he said, frowning a little with how to explain it. "Gives you something you've been missing, I suppose. Something undeniable."
"Not all pasts are a benefit," Theo pointed out. "Look at you and Granger."
Speaking of undeniable, Draco thought. "It's not that the past is worth clinging to," he clarified, "but that it's… what we are. It's about seeing all the pieces, good and bad." He paused, thinking about it. "I guess all we are right now is future pasts, aren't we? What we are together is, I don't know. The sum of what we were apart."
"Sounds like the delirious ranting of a man who's seen too many universes," Theo remarked.
"I—" I changed. She changed. And because I know so clearly what we once were, I can see what we could be. "I guess you're right."
"Which Granger are you talking about, by the way?" Theo asked, his gaze sliding pointedly to where one of the Hermiones stood.
There was no doubt in his mind, but it didn't seem the time to bring it up.
"Ah," Theo had said, "I see."
That had been the start of it; of reconciliation and change. Now, of course, they were taking care of Theo's other problem, Draco and Theo standing shoulder to shoulder with Hermione Jane angled slightly beside them, idly fingering the handle of her knife.
"Theodore," said Theodore Nott Sr, a smile of satisfaction curling at the corners of his mouth as he looked at his son. "I thought I might see you soon. Have you finally come to your senses, then?"
"Well, that depends," Theo drawled in reply, eyeing his fingernails. "Exactly how privileged were you, Father? In the Dark Lord's esteem, that is," he said, waving a hand around the house, "as I have some concept about other matters."
Nott's smile faltered slightly at Theo's obvious irreverence, his gaze flicking briefly to Draco before returning to his son. "I know everything there is to know," Nott said, voice hard and firm. "His Lordship entrusted me with the deepest of his secrets, of which you could scarcely imag-"
"Right, yeah, to clarify—what I'm saying is do you know about the other universe?" Theo cut in flatly, and Nott blinked, obviously taken aback. "You know," Theo added, shrugging, "the one he's currently in, for example?"
"How did you know that?" Nott demanded, dismayed. "Narcissa, the… the other Narcissa, she said—"
"What, that it was a secret? I mean, sure," Theo said, "but, you know. I have sources of my own."
Nott's eyes narrowed, sliding to Hermione. "I take it you mean Harry Potter?" he asked, lips thinning distastefully. "Otherwise I can't imagine why you'd bring the mudblood to my house."
"For the record, it's not a great house," Hermione assured him, gaze flicking up from the edge of her knife. She really did have excellent showmanship, Draco acknowledged, half-expecting her to check her teeth in the blade's reflection. "I'd be happy to leave, only we have some unfinished business—right, Theo?"
"Oh, a bit," Theo agreed, folding his arms over his chest. "Don't we, Dad?"
Nott's glance slid impatiently to his son. "Theodore, the Dark Lord will return," he said gravely, "and when he does, I will be rewarded for my loyalty. Either you stand with me," he warned, "or—"
"Or what?" Theo prompted, doubtful. "You'll kill me? Is that it?"
Hermione's hand stilled around the edge of her knife, Draco's hand twitching to his wand, and Nott gave all three of them a scathing look of disbelief.
"You can't honestly think any of you could stand against me," Nott said, scoffing. "You're children, Theodore, and you'd do well to remember who you're siding with. I am favored by the Dark Lord, untouchable for being in his protection," he cautioned darkly, "and Harry Potter is bound to fall. He is young, powerless—and by contrast, the Dark Lord has mastered multiple universes. Choose carefully," Nott said, tongue slicing between his lips to moisten them with anticipation. "You know I don't want to see you get hurt."
"Oh, really?" Theo asked, amused. "No offense, but that sounds a lot like a lie."
To that, Nott rose sharply to his feet, taking hold of Theo's collar and yanking him upright. Draco took a hard step forward, clenching a fist, but was promptly dragged back by Hermione, her warning low in his ear.
"Not yet," she said quietly, and Draco stiffened, fidgeting in place as Theo smiled grimly up at his father.
"I'll never take your side," Theo was saying to Nott in a low voice. "Never. I'd rather die first."
"And I'd rather kill you myself than see you take Harry Potter's side," Nott hissed back to him, the two eye to eye with Theo's mouth twisted up in a laughing, mocking grimace. "Where is he, Theodore?" Nott demanded, knuckles white as he reached down, one hand making his way to where his wand was surely concealed in his robes. "Tell me where he is, and maybe it won't have to end this way."
"Funny story," Theo said with a laugh, "but I'd also rather die than give him up. Ironic, isn't it? Be sure to tell your Dark Lord what kind of son you raised," he mused, grunting in stifled discomfort as his father's grip tightened on his neck. "Should be a fun conversation, actually, and I'd hate for you to miss it—"
"Where is he?" Nott demanded, his wand snapping up to place itself against Theo's temple, and Hermione's nails dug into Draco's arm, warning him not to move. "Theodore," Nott spat, gritting his teeth as Theo gave a tiny, choked out chuckle, "you worthless sack of—where is Harry Potter?"
To that, Theo cracked a grim smile, looking his father in the eye.
"You won't find him," he said, the imprint of his teeth left behind as he spoke, his voice so quiet Draco strained to hear.
"Why not?" Nott snapped, and when Theo only laughed in answer—a little chuckle of something manic, more unhinged than it was mirthful—a spark slipped out from Nott's wand, sending a shudder through Theo's spine. "I said WHY NOT—"
He threw his son aside, wand slashing with impossible speed as he went, and Theo flinched, stung, as a line carved itself into his cheek, a slender trail of blood sliding down to his stubborn mouth as he dragged his gaze up from his knees.
"Because," Theo said, looking up in triumph, lips cracking from a smile. "He isn't. Here."
Grindelverse
"Aren't you going to fight me?" Tom said quietly in Harry's ear, and in answer, Harry only laughed.
"Would Dumbledore have fought you?" Harry asked, and Tom scowled. "I doubt he needed to. You underestimated him, just as you'll underestimate me. You'll suffer, Tom, I promise you," Harry swore, shaking his head as his gaze flicked down to the wand in Tom's hand. "You'll regret this," he warned, "and someday, you'll remember that I stood here and let you destroy yourself."
"Big words for someone who's already lost," Tom mused, "don't you think?"
"Yes," Harry said, glancing sideways at him. "I lost. Dumbledore died. Remember those things in that order, Tom, when you replay them in your head."
For a moment, Tom seemed to hesitate, something doubtful burying itself in his brow.
His attention slid to Hermione, who made a point to struggle. No, no, no, she thought, planting her opposition there and waiting for it to take hold. She took all her seeds of desperation and let them grow, permitting the impact of it fester until she felt certain Tom could feel the echoes of all of it; of helplessness, of miscalculation, all of it radiating in panic at the thought he might destroy her, destroy them, destroy everything.
How do you kill a monster?
We let him think we're nothing, she knew, and then we prove him wrong.
"The game is over," Tom said, leaning forward to speak in Harry's ear, "when I say it's over."
Harry went stiff, and then collapsed. There was no green light, no motion of a wand. Tom Riddle had spent too much time here waiting, anticipating, improving his magic and refining his craft in the equivalent of boredom, lounging in his spider's web for the time it took to cast a perfect killing curse. Not a word, not a sound, not an impact. One moment there was air in Harry Potter's lungs and the next it was gone, his heart stopped, and Hermione, despite knowing there was a plan in motion, felt her own breath go with it, escaping out in a silent, muted gasp.
"Well," Tom said, bending to take the Elder Wand from Harry's lifeless hand, "I think it's time to go home, then. Remus, I'll send you instructions," he said, fingering the wand with a smile, "and in the meantime—" He waved a hand at the others. "They can't harm each other or me, fortunately, so do whatever you like. They can stand as trophies on my mantle for all I care."
"And this?" Remus asked, wandering over to Harry and crouching down to look at him. "What should I do with this?"
"I don't care, Remus. Do whatever you'd like." Tom looked up, glancing at Hermione again, who managed, somehow, to stand perfectly still. "Well, this has been fun," Tom said with a shrug, "but even for having mastered the art of patience, I will admit it does get tiresome. Better luck next time," he said blithely, turning to apparate away, but Lily took a step forward, hands rigid at her side.
"Tom," Lily called after him, "you missed something."
Tom lifted his wand, eyeing her. "Did I, Lily? Well, do tell me—was it love?" he mocked doubtfully. "Is that the lesson I'm meant to have learned from Albus Dumbledore, hm? You'll forgive me, I imagine, if I opt not to learn anything further from a dead man."
"No, no, not something so trivial," Lily said, shaking her head, and bent down to Harry, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "But you did miss something," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder as Tom made to disapparate, flicking the wand.
In the motion—in the single millisecond before the apparition's magic did its work—Hermione saw Harry's scar reveal itself at Lily's touch. Tom's eyes widened, half a heartbeat's pause, before disappearing into the span of the air, removing him from the universe with a notable rip of circumstance.
The moment he was gone, Hermione turned expectantly to the spectral image of a woman who'd been sitting just outside her periphery.
"Narcissa?" she said. "He's coming."
They'd always known who Tom would go to first; He's coming for me had been Narcissa's first words when Draco and the others had taken her from Azkaban, and she'd clearly been right. The hazy image of her from a universe away didn't reply, her gaze landing instead on something at eye level before dropping, falling to what—or more specifically, who—had just collapsed to the floor at her feet.
"Well," Narcissa said, bending to speak to what must have been a failing Tom Riddle, "I'm sorry to tell you, Tom, this is where the game ends."
She stopped, tilting her head. "No, Tom. You don't win," she said, her voice a mocking, soothing tone to what could only have been a dying man. "You were the first person in Albus Dumbledore's game, weren't you? And Harry Potter was the last; Dumbledore made sure of it," she said with a darkened laugh, "so this, now, it's the closing of a loop, Tom. This is inevitability. This is you suffering as you finally deserve," she told him spitefully, "because there is no such thing as escaping one's destiny. You may have outlived him, but you made a mistake. He didn't."
She leaned forward, catching the whisper of something, and appeared to go temporarily rigid before blinking, staring down at the floor and leaving Hermione to glance desperately at a still-unmoving Harry.
"Narcissa?" Hermione asked the stone, hesitant. "Did it work? Is he gone?"
After a moment, Narcissa nodded stiffly.
"He's gone," she said, her voice hollow.
Then, beside Hermione, Harry Potter took a sudden, gasping breath.
Potterverse
"What do you mean he's not here?" Nott demanded from his son, striding heavily over to him with fraying, fractured evidence of disapproval. "What does that fucking mean—"
"You know, it's a long story," Theo said, struggling to rise to his feet, "but essentially, this whole network thing Tom created to keep himself safe from his enemies? Yeah, it uh, backfired massively," he said with a harsh, gritty laugh. "Turns out he was actually in Dumbledore's network, and so was Potter—and seeing how Tom's almost certainly going to kill Potter, if our calculations are correct—"
"What are you saying?" Nott spat, and Draco glanced down at his watch.
"This is getting tiresome to watch," he murmured to Hermione. "Do we think it's been long enough?"
"I mean yeah, probably," she said, shrugging, glancing over her shoulder. "James?
James Potter, in what Draco had quickly come to suspect was typical dramatic fashion, threw off the invisibility cloak which had once belonged to his alternate self to reveal where he stood with a magically-restrained Narcissa Malfoy, prompting Nott to spin towards him, furious.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, blinking unsteadily with confusion, and James smiled grimly, flicking his wand to permit the other Narcissa a strangled gasp.
"Tell him," James suggested, giving Narcissa a nudge forward. "He threatened the other you, you know. I'm sure we can both agree he could really use a day ruiner."
Narcissa gave James a ruthless glare. "He's not in it," she muttered brusquely.
"Sorry?" James said, nudging her as Nott stood still, obviously dumbfounded with bemusement. "Might want to clarify that," he said spiritedly, "seeing as he still thinks he's safe."
"He's not in it," Narcissa repeated darkly, giving Nott a stiffly impatient glance. "He was always meant to be a decoy, but he never actually did anything for Tom."
"That's impossible," Nott said, the blood rapidly draining from his face as Theo laughed, heartily and without restraint. "I've served the Dark Lord well and loyally," Nott said, dismay rising in his voice, "he shared with me his secrets—"
"You served Voldemort, yes. You never did anything for Tom," Narcissa said impatiently. "He never considered you useful enough."
Behind them, Theo had dragged himself upright, resting his hands on his knees with doubled-over bursts of laughter. "Oh, man," he managed, struggling to speak, "you should… you should see your face right now, it's—really, it's hilarious," he said, swiping at his eyes. "One day, when you're dead, you'll look back on this and realize how funny this is—for me, obviously," Theo amended, sighing out facetious lament, "not for you—"
"Theodore," Nott growled. "You wouldn't—"
"Oh, I would, actually," Theo said, shifting so subtly for his wand his father didn't even have time to flinch before his own wand had been torn from his hand, fingers belatedly stretching out after it. "Turns out you're the one who's worthless, aren't you?"
Nott lunged for the wand, moving with his usual surprising quickness, but Hermione was far quicker, her knife skating so close to Nott's throat she might have nicked a few hairs with the motion.
"Don't," she warned him softly, and Nott looked up grimly as Theo raised his wand.
"Anything you'd like to say?" Theo asked his father, head tilting with the invitation, and Nott's mouth tightened.
"You're nothing, Theodore," Nott spat. "You were nothing before and you'll be less than nothing now—"
"Thought so," Theo sighed, and raised his wand to the center of his father's forehead. "Thanks for making this easy, Dad," he said, but before he could cast a spell—before any of them saw it coming, to Draco's immense surprise—James Potter had taken three steps to yank Theo back, taking his place.
"I don't even know these idiots," James muttered to Nott Sr, "and still, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because you're not cut out to be a father," he said, impassive, "and for that, you will not touch him again. You will not touch anyone," James said firmly, "again."
Nott's eyes widened, something vitriolic and spiteful building on his tongue, but to Draco's immense relief, the rest of them would never get to hear it.
Instead, there was an expulsion of green light from James' wand, and then the elder Theodore Nott dropped, lifeless, to the floor.
