Chapter 22

The Doctor, M, Rory, and Amy sat on the lawn near the main gates of Hogwarts, waiting for Jack to return. They'd started off pacing, nervous and attentive, but after an hour grew bored despite their best intentions. Rory and Amy perused a magical history book, and the Doctor put the Sorting Hat back on. "What is that, anyway?" asked M, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor explained what he'd learned of the Hogwarts houses, with a mixture of excitement and disapproval. M frowned. "If you think the houses are a bad idea, why do you want to know?"

"I just do. Can't help it. It's supposed to talk…but it hasn't said anything in ages. Hello, Mr Sorting Hat, helloooo?"

"Hello again, eccentric friend," grumbled the hat.

"Oh! Have you finally figured me out?"

"You're quite the dodgy one to sort, yet I can finally report, there is a house where you belong, but listen closely to my song-"

Jack materialized a few meters away, in a supine position. Nagini was coiled tightly around him, fangs sunk into his throat. "Stay dead this time, stupid mammal," she hissed, then lifted her head and noticed the others.

There was a moment of total silence, then a collective screaming of expletives. Nagini unwound herself from Jack's body and coiled up in a defensive posture, ready to strike. When nobody made a move towards her, she turned and began to glide towards the Forbidden Forest. "It's a horcrux…we can't let it get away," Rory said.

The Doctor gulped and ran after Nagini, shouting in snake, "Hey, hold on!"

She whipped around and struck at him. He barely avoided the fangs, but was knocked down. In an instant, he was being crushed in her powerful coils, and would've been bitten had M not rushed over and grabbed the serpent's head from behind. She writhed back and forth, trying to free herself. "Let go!" hissed M, kicking at her in vain.

The others dashed over to help, everyone prying at the snake, to no avail. The Doctor's face began to turn blue, and there was a sudden, sickening crunch of bone. If he'd had any air left in his lungs, the scream would've been blood-curdling. Amy looked around frantically for a weapon, and her eyes were drawn to something shiny inside the Sorting Hat, which had fallen to the ground. She reached in, withdrew a sword, and without hesitation swung it full force at the creature's neck, severing it neatly. Nagini's body twitched for several seconds, then finally went slack. The Doctor drew a heaving breath, and screamed in pain. M ripped the Doctor's shirt open, revealing a football-sized bruise on his ribcage. Amy turned to run to the castle, but saw three figures bolting towards them. "Help's on the way."

The Doctor could only grit his teeth in pain. His breaths were very shallow now. M grabbed the sonic screwdriver out of the Doctor's pocket and ran it over his torso. "Six broken ribs and the lung is punctured. I don't know if the sonic can fix it."

Rory moved in to help. "I'm a nurse."

M made room for him. Rory put his ear to the Doctor's chest and listened. Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived a moment later. Rory said, "Get out your wands," and proceeded to talk them through a series of healing spells.

"Where'd you learn these?" asked Harry, while casting.

"I read a lot, you know that. Shh, focus."

Hermione was providing the most effective spellwork of the three. "It's a flick then an anticlockwise circle, Ron," she said.

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"Doctor, is it getting easier to breathe?" asked Rory.

The Time Lord nodded, though his expression was still pained. "Thanks…everyone. Amy…" he wheezed.

She knelt beside him, eyes shining with anxious tears. "Yes?"

"You're…awesome. Where'd you…get that…sword?"

"It was in the hat. I thought Dumbledore put it behind his desk."

"It's the Sword of Gryffindor. It appears only to Gryffindors in need of it," said Harry.

"Oh…that is awesome," said Amy, smiling.

The combination of magic and the sonic soon healed the worst of the damage, and the deep bruise began to fade. Everyone sat back and sighed with relief, then jumped when Jack said, "Sorry it took so long."

He was standing behind them, quite alive and looking like himself again. "That snake kept killing me and trying to eat me," he continued. "I tried to get into the red TARDIS, but couldn't get through this, like, invisible barrier. Everything else went according to plan."

"Good job," said the Doctor, standing up very slowly, as if not fully trusting his body.

It had been a long time since he'd been so badly injured. For a fleeting moment he supposed that he really was getting old, but instead he decided it was because the snake was magical. He took a tentative step and winced. M reached out to support him. He really has changed, thought Jack, happily.

"Harry showed me the scroll. How long have you suspected that he is a horcrux?" demanded Snape, pacing in front of the stone fireplace in his dungeon study, while Dumbledore sat primly on the couch.

"I was never sure of it, but I suppose I've always had the suspicion that when Voldemort cursed him as a baby, he inadvertently made him into a horcrux. Voldemort still isn't aware of it, and that fact will contribute to his undoing," said Dumbledore.

"Only if Harry dies! This is why you didn't tell me about the horcruxes, isn't it? You've kept him alive all these years, knowing he would have to be sacrificed!"

Snape would've looked more imposing while he stalked back and forth and ranted, had he not still been wearing Dumbledore's robes. His face went completely red as he continued shouting, "And I helped you protect him, under false pretenses. You…you're shaming Lily's memory!"

"Severus, please calm down. Harry will not die."

"You didn't know that! Until the…spaceman showed up and brought news from the future!"

"Severus, please. Please sit."

Snape stopped pacing and took a seat in an armchair across from Dumbledore. "Were you ever going to tell him?" he asked, in a much quieter tone.

"You have quite a lot of concern for Harry's well being. I was under the impression that you didn't care for him very much, if at all."

"Don't do that."

"Do what? Make you admit you have a heart?"

Snape glared at him, face red again, this time with a different emotion. "Don't make this about me. It's about Harry."

"Listen. Even if Voldemort uses the Killing Curse on him again, it won't work, because he used Harry's blood to resurrect himself. Don't you see…Lily's blood protection lives on in Voldemort. Harry cannot be killed by him. Harry will be all right. Now, although you don't look half bad in a color other than black, you're also looking more than a bit harrowed. Calming draught? Lemon drop?"

Snape rested his face in his hands and said, "Yes to the potion, not that awful sweet. You are the only person in the Wizarding World who likes those."

Dumbledore retrieved the draught, but the cup slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor, as pain shot up his arm from his damaged hand. Snape quickly rummaged through his potions cabinet for the elixir he'd brewed especially to help stave off the progressive curse. He put a few drops of the liquid on Dumbledore's wrist, and gently rubbed it in, making sure it formed a complete barrier around his arm. "You would be an excellent father," Dumbledore said.

Snape didn't know how to react to that, so he ignored it. "How does your hand feel?"

"Better, thank you. I wonder if some of the pain is psychological in nature. I'd expected to have moved on by now, after all."

"I think we could both use a calming draught."

Everyone was in uncharacteristically high spirits that evening. They dined all together in the Great Hall, at the professors' table. House elves made them a meal that was a little too elaborate, probably because Kreacher was now among them and he wanted to demonstrate his gratitude to Harry. And to think, he'd been planning on giving the boy a box of maggots for his birthday!

For a while, Harry forgot about Voldemort and just enjoyed being with friends. Once they retired to the Gryffindor common room, however, an unfamiliar sort of anxiety began to creep over him, and he took out the scroll and re-read certain parts of it. Ron got sleepy and went to bed, while Hermione stayed and read a book. Harry sat for a long while in silence, the bad feeling growing until he couldn't stand it any longer. "Hermione, I need your help. Can I talk something through with you?"

She looked up at him, noticed his peculiar expression, and immediately closed her book. "Of course."

Harry swallowed, and tried to gather his thoughts. He'd never been very good at expressing himself with words, but he knew if anyone could understand him, it was Hermione. "I've been reading this part about after I died, when I was in the place that looked like a train station and talked to Dumbledore. There was this…that thing I wrote about…a baby thing, but not a baby. What was left of Tom Riddle's soul. All bleeding and miserable."

Hermione remembered the disturbing description. She nodded encouragingly. Harry rubbed his neck and continued, "Dumbledore told me not to pay attention to it. It says here in the scroll…he told me that his soul was too damaged to move on from that place…it would be there forever, skinned alive like that…and there was no point pitying it because it wasn't my problem…there was nothing anyone could do to help. But now that I know what's going to happen, is that still true? Is it still not my problem? Because I feel like it is."

Hermione crossed to the couch and sat beside him. "Some people are truly beyond help, Harry."

"But how do we know when to give up? I mean, look at the Doctor and the Master. The Doctor used to think the Master was beyond help, but I don't think he ever really gave up…because, look. He finally found a way."

"You want to help the person who murdered your parents, among his many victims?" asked Hermione, very gently.

Harry hung his head. "I know I shouldn't, and it doesn't make sense or anything, but yes, I do. I know he wants to kill me but I also know he can't, and if he keeps attacking he'll just end up killing himself, and dooming his soul to that horrible existence forever. Forever, Hermione. How can I fight him, knowing that? I don't see how it's all right that I let it happen like that."

"But, what's the alternative?"

"Refuse to fight him, and somehow convince him that he has to feel remorse if he wants to avoid that fate. I know that's not likely to work, but there's a chance, isn't there?"

"I don't know that there is."

"I understand why you don't want to encourage me. I really do. But I can't just let this go. I need to think of something. If I just catch him, and the Ministry doesn't have him executed…he'll just go to Azkaban or somewhere like it. They'll have to get rid of the Dementors, obviously, and keep him guarded. He'll just live out his days in a cell, if he survives the torture. And when he dies he'll still end up as that suffering thing I saw, if he can't be helped or shown how to help himself."

"You really think he'd be tortured? Maybe they'll just keep him in isolation."

"Of course they'll torture him. But besides…keeping people locked in tiny rooms, in isolation, is torture…on par with Cruciatus. I know, because I've felt both. I spent lots of my childhood locked in a cupboard and half-starved, remember?"

Hermione's eyes widened. She knew Harry had been mistreated at the Dursley's, but it was difficult to fully comprehend the impact of abuse she hadn't experienced first-hand. "Yes, I remember. I'm sorry for saying something so insensitive."

"No, that's the point…people don't realize how easy it is to break someone, to make them so pathetic and ashamed they feel sub-human, when really, the shame is on those who cause the suffering. There is never a good reason to treat people so badly."

"There are people in prison who have done horrible things. Society has to be protected from them."

"Yes, but just because their behavior disgusts us doesn't mean their lives should be torture, day in and out, with no chance and no hope for anything good to ever happen. People who do terrible things, people like Voldemort…they must be insane, right? Is it their fault they're mentally ill? How can we blame people for being ill, and then not even try to help them? We need to work through the disgust, and see human beings instead of monsters, but instead we lock them up and tell ourselves that they'll suffer remorse for their crimes…but do they feel remorse, or just the suffering? If we're inflicting pain because it makes us feel better, we're just as guilty. And some of them are innocent. Like Sirius."

"Voldemort is not innocent."

"I know! I know I'm weak for feeling this way."

"Not wanting him dead or suffering doesn't mean you're weak."

"It's more than that. I want to forgive him." Harry covered his face, unable to stop the tears that fell suddenly from his eyes onto the unfurled pages of the scroll, making the ink bleed. Hermione put her arm around him. "What would my parents say?" he asked desperately.

"I'm sure they'd be proud that their son is capable of such compassion, and didn't spend his life consumed by hate."

"What am I going to do? Everyone's expecting me to kill him."

"Forget everybody and their expectations. What do you want to do?"

He looked up at her, green eyes made even more vivid by the glaze of tears. "I want to make him sane. Like what was done for M."

"That was a specific memory charm. Tom Riddle may have been born a psychopath. But…I suppose there is a chance he could've turned out differently. There's no way to know, except…"

Hermione trailed off, remembering what Ginny had said the day they'd met the Doctor: Can't you just go back and kill Tom Riddle as a child, so he never grows up into that monster? Nobody had discussed going back and helping him, she realized with a pang. Maybe Harry was right about people being more inclined to be cruel than kind toward those they viewed as disgusting. She continued, "Instead of trying to fix him in the present, you could go back in time and find out where things went wrong in the first place."

Harry was lost for words as he let this idea sink in. Hermione added, "I mean, I have no idea if it's possible. When we used the Time Turner, we couldn't change anything. The TARDIS is different, though…it seems to rewrite time. It's beyond me, Harry. You've got to talk to the Doctor."

"Do you think it's a good idea? Tell me, honestly…do you think I've gone mad?"

"You haven't. I understand why you want to do this, even if I can't completely relate. Altering Tom Riddle's past could change your life the most out of all of us, so if you think it's the right thing to do, then I'm with you all the way."

He hugged her and thanked her. "Don't tell Ron. You might understand, but he'll think I've gone totally mental."

"All right, but don't get too worked up about this. If it isn't possible or doesn't work…we'll need to think of something else. Hmmm…I wonder if there's a spell to make someone feel empathy. Maybe we could adapt some love spells. Excuse me, I'm just going to have a look in the library."

Harry watched her leave, clearly already deep in thought, and was reminded yet again why she was his best mate. He looked down at the scroll in his lap, and saw that his tears had fallen on the words 'Voldemort' and 'soul', turning them into amorphous, inky blobs that stared out from the page like dark eyes. I should've paid more attention in Divination, he thought, then went to find the Doctor.

Harry reached the gate and panicked for a moment when he couldn't find the TARDIS, but then it materialized before his eyes, making that odd, wheezing noise, and the Doctor and M emerged, laughing and speaking in a language so alien, Harry could only compare it to the sound of scrolling quickly through radio stations. They caught sight of him and abruptly stopped talking, as if they'd been doing something slightly naughty. "How long have you been gone? A month?" he asked, smiling.

"Did we mess up? We meant to come back straight away," said the Doctor.

"You did…it's only been about an hour since I last saw you."

"Then how'd you know?"

Harry turned towards M and said, "You've gained about a stone and a half, I reckon."

The Doctor looked M up and down, as if seeing him for the first time, and prodded at his body in various places. "Has he? Where's it gone?"

M –who had put the weight on very evenly, in a healthy manner– was quite embarrassed by now. "Anyway," said Harry. "You're both looking well. Good trip, I take it?"

"Your universe is beautiful," said M.

"He likes all the boring bits, like violet sand beaches and virgin forest meadows, mile-high waterfalls, windless deserts full of delicate crystalline organisms, and tea houses in the mountains where nobody ever talks," the Doctor volunteered.

M sighed. "And he prefers anything that's even vaguely dangerous, already exploding, or likely about to explode."

"How have you been, Harry?"

"Um…well, within the last hour I've had this idea…err, well, Hermione had it…it's got to do with Voldemort. Is it possible to go back in time and do something for him when he was a child, to change him for the better as an adult?"

The Doctor beamed. "That's my favorite Christmas tradition!"

"Can Christmas happen in July this year?"

Harry asked the question lightly, but the Doctor could tell he was more distressed than he was letting on. "Want to talk about this inside Hogwarts?"

"You know I don't like secrets, but I think it's best we keep it just between us for now. I'm not sure how the others will take the idea, and I'd rather not start any more shouting matches for a while."

The three entered the TARDIS, and Harry explained his thoughts and concerns. Though the Doctor's attention span was usually short, there was something riveting about Harry. Like the Doctor, Harry had a tragic past, had seen his fair share of adventure, and was famous for his epic deeds, yet unlike the Doctor, he didn't seem to feel that any of his experiences were worth bragging about. It wasn't that he had low self-esteem. If anything, it was the opposite: he had confidence that he was a good person, that the events of his life did not tarnish him, a solid sense of dignity that the Doctor lacked and sought to cover up with his happy-go-lucky persona. Harry was gracious, whereas the Doctor was grandiose. Harry was genuine, without the need or the desire to pretend to be anyone except himself. The Doctor was a man of many faces, repressing parts of his personality whenever it suited him to do so. The Time Lord was a little envious of the young wizard, but he was also inspired, and knew he would do what he could to help. "What you are talking about is entirely possible, however, if you alter the past, you will most likely be creating fixed points. There won't be any do overs. The changes will ripple through to the present, rewriting this timeline or splitting off into a parallel universe. It's impossible to predict what will happen. Even if Tom Riddle doesn't become Voldemort, someone else might…someone who nobody has the power to stop. As things are right now, you can defeat him easily and go on with your life. You may not want to give up that chance."

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I do. And I'm not just doing it for him…I'm doing it for me. I won't be able to live with myself if I go ahead with the plan as is."

"Then we'd best start planning something else. Just one question…why do you care so much about what happens to his soul?"

"He and I are connected on many levels. I know I should want revenge for what he did to my parents, and for a long time I did…I really did…and Dumbledore tried very hard to convince me there was no other option but to fight him to the death…but now I see there's nothing I could do to him that's worse than what he's already done to himself. He has damned himself, Doctor, and doesn't even realize it. Dumbledore said he's damaged his soul so much he may not be capable of remorse…but because he's got my blood in his veins, if he could regret what he's done and feel the guilt of hurting so many people, then he could heal more deeply than anyone believes possible. I'm his only chance. That's why it matters to me."

Harry had been looking at the floor while he spoke, because such things weren't easy to say. When he looked up, the Doctor was studying him curiously. A few feet behind, M was silently weeping. Harry immediately went over to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, Harry. I'm not upset. I'm grateful," M said quietly, glancing at the Doctor, who was looking a little puzzled.

"I thought the crying was done with," said the Doctor, quite coldly, Harry thought.

M hurriedly wiped his tears, face turning pink. "Yes, it is. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry? What's wrong with crying?" asked Harry.

M looked frightened. He couldn't come up with an answer. Harry turned to the Doctor and restated the question, "Why make M ashamed of crying?"

"I want him to be happy."

"You want him to act happy."

M darted away into a dark hallway of the TARDIS, apparently unable to face this conversation. The Doctor moved to follow him, but Harry grabbed his arm and gently but firmly pulled him back. "Doctor, what's going on?"

"I knew it would take a while for him to feel better, but I figured once we started adventuring, it would be a welcome distraction. It hasn't been. He keeps crying. I know impatience is a problem of mine. I have no intention of giving up, but I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"Maybe you're not doing anything wrong. Maybe you just have to endure the crying, for as long as it takes."

"But I don't want him to feel bad anymore. He could just move on, but he won't. Why dwell on the past?"

"I take it you don't do that, much."

The Doctor fell silent, caught. Harry continued, "Some people need to reopen a wound over and over, in order to heal from it. Though, it just occurred to me that there's a simpler explanation. You said he likes quiet activities. He said you prefer loud ones. Maybe he's stressed out by your choice of adventure, but is too afraid to tell you."

"You think that's it?"

"Ask him, nicely. And for Merlin's sake, don't tell him not to cry, even if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

Harry laughed. "I've been called many things, but not that."

"When this is over we could take a spin in the TARDIS. Y'know, check out somewhere completely different. If you'd like."

"Thanks for the offer, but when this is over, I think I'll have had enough adventuring for one lifetime."