Chapter 27

Harry expected it to look like King's Cross railway station, and it did. He didn't expect to see a train and his parents standing beside it, but there they were: the train and the young couple waiting patiently, half-obscured by the hazy air, which was softly lit by some unseen source. Harry took one step forward and froze, worried that if he got closer and saw them clearly he wouldn't be able to turn away…he would get on the train, and he knew what that meant.

A whimper drew his attention. It came from the floor to his left. He didn't want to, but he forced himself to kneel down and look at the remnant of Tom Riddle's soul. Seeing it first hand was much worse than reading the description in the scroll. He felt the disgust, thick and stifling, and then the pity, which won out. Harry looked at his parents, who hadn't moved, and asked, "Do you see this? Do you know what it is?"

He saw his mother nod, though he couldn't discern her expression. His heart was pounding, which struck him as odd…why did he still feel like he had a body? "Oh, right, I'm not really dead," he said.

"We know, son. We know you must go back. Your mother and I just wanted to see you," said James, and Harry felt more than heard the voice.

"But, I want to be with you," he replied, slowly walking towards them despite his best intentions, feeling his resolve crumbling.

"We want to be with you, too, but it's too soon. We'll see you later, Harry. Much later," said Lily.

Just as Harry saw his mother smile, he caught the pathetic cry again, and stopped short. It was behind him now, quieter than before, already easier to ignore. He closed his eyes. "If I said I'm going back to try and help that damaged thing, would you tell me it's not my problem, to let it suffer? Would you tell me that's a suitable fate?"

"Do what you feel is right, Harry," said his father.

"Do what you need to do in order to be happy. That's all we want," said his mother.

Profound relief washed over him. "I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"That wasn't very nice, Tom."

Harry sat up and rubbed his chest. He parted his robes and pulled the collar of his t-shirt down to see that there was another lightning-bolt shaped scar, red and angry, on the skin over his heart. "Great. Ginny's gonna looove that."

Voldemort was standing absolutely motionless, staring at Harry, wand clutched loosely in his long pale fingers. Harry wanted to laugh, but considering what he was about to reveal, mocking the man would just add unnecessary insult to injury, and Harry wasn't cruel, nor did he want to taunt the man into attacking him. He calmly said, "By now you must know why it didn't work the first time, and why it didn't work now. You must realize that my mother's blood sacrifice has been protecting me all this time."

The Dark Lord cast another Crucio. Harry shook his head and sighed. "I'm the master of the Elder Wand. I was faking it earlier. The suffocation was real, though…that hurt, but I have to inform you that you can't kill me, even with your bare hands. When you cast A.K. just now –I'm sorry to tell you this…please believe me that I really am sorry– you just killed a part of yourself. I was a horcrux, but I'm not anymore."

Voldemort tried to Apparate, and found that he couldn't leave the clearing. He began to cast the Anti-Disapparation counter-spell, while Harry continued, "You are exceptionally powerful…but, Tom, that wand obeys my will, and my will is for you to stay here, within these wards, for just a little while."

The Dark Lord laughed, and lowered the wand. It would've been practical to bring another wand, he thought, as he felt in the sleeve of his robes for the Portkey he'd prepared just in case he were ever caught in a trap such as this. It was a small piece of amber, and just as he was about to slide a finger into the specially designed pocket to touch it, Harry stood up and said, "I want to tell you about the power you know not."

Crimson eyes met green. Harry continued, "When you used my blood to resurrect yourself, you got some of my mother's protection, too. Did you know that while her blood lives on in someone, I can't be killed by you? That is very old magic, according to Dumbledore...the magic of a sacrifice for love. Love is not weakness, Tom…it is more potent than the Killing Curse. If you could feel a little love, some compassion for others…or even for yourself, then things don't have to end badly for you. I've seen your fate if you continue on this path, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. For your own sake, can you try to feel in your heart what you've done, how many people you've hurt? Can you try for a little remorse?"

The Dark Lord sighed and turned away dismissively, facing towards the darkness beyond the clearing. Harry had expected this, still, he pressed on, "The prophecy said that neither of us can live while the other survives. Well I say to hell with that. We're both alive right now, aren't we? All that prophecy ever did was play on your terrible fear of death, to the point that you created the one person who could defeat you. You chose me because you thought I was your biggest threat…because I was the most like you. You gave me everything I needed to kill you-"

Voldemort spun around so quickly that Harry couldn't help but jump. "You cannot kill me, foolish boy. Whatever it is you intend to do, I suggest that you shut up and get on with it. Unless your plan is to bore me to death."

Voldemort knew that it made sense to use the Portkey immediately. Harry knew about horcruxes, and there was a chance that he had already found and destroyed his. Yet, he still felt the thrum of energy from the TARDIS. The time machine was no average horcrux; it was unbreakable. He had seen this in the Master's mind, and the alien could have no training as an Occlumens, could he? His finger was so close to the piece of amber. He should just touch it. All he needed to do was have someone else kill Harry. He could still torture him all he wanted before letting him die. He'd draw it out even longer, for days or weeks or more, now that the insolent boy had attempted to humiliate him in such a way, and had dared pity him. So, why did he hesitate? Why did he not leave? Was it curiosity to see what Harry would do? Or was it that his idiotic ideas held some truth? Voldemort could not deny the fact that he had twice failed to kill him with a curse that should have worked, and that the existence of some sort of love magic, beyond the usual seduction spells, was certainly out of his realm of knowledge. If it were true that such power could defeat death, then it wasn't something he could afford to ignore, however distasteful it might be…but he knew he had never been loved and didn't know how to love, and no matter how he tried to approach it the idea seemed vastly more alien to him than the Master and his red phone booth. For all of Harry's stupidity and his stubborn refusal to die, the boy might actually be able to show him something. That was the thought that made Voldemort's skin crawl, made him grit his teeth and snarl, made his insides twist with tremendous fear, even as he moved his hand away from the Portkey.

Harry took in the Dark Lord's look of sheer fury and terror, like a wild animal backed into a corner, and decided not to say anything more. He might be safe from being killed, but he could certainly be severely injured. Harry backed up slowly until he reached the nearest tree, then in one swift motion opened up the bark, stepped inside, and closed the door to M's TARDIS firmly behind him.

M, the Doctor, Hermione, and Ashley all looked at him expectantly. "So far, so good," said Harry, voice faintly tremulous. "December 31, 1926, please, Time Lords."

M set the destination, pulled a lever or two, and a moment later the tree-form TARDIS materialized in a small park just down the road from Wool's Orphanage. The Doctor opened the door, paused for the briefest moment, and closed it again. "What is it?" asked Harry.

"Fixed point. I don't know what it is, specifically, but wait here while I go ahead and check. May I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?"

M quietly asked, "Does that fit two?"

Harry nodded and handed it over. M stepped to the Doctor's side, and the Doctor threw the cloak around them both. The orphanage gates were locked, it being late in the evening, but they were no match for the sonic screwdriver. The building itself was drab, but warm and clean. It didn't look like a happy place to grow up, but the Time Lords caught the laughter of children as they neared a doorway. They peeked inside and saw a group of pajama-clad young boys making shadow figures against the wall with their hands and an assortment of construction-paper shapes. A woman with a stern expression approached from down the hall and entered the room, but her voice was kind as she said, "Boys, it's time for bed. Put out the torches, please."

She waited until they climbed back under their blankets. "Goodnight, boys. See you next year."

"Goodnight, Ms Martha," came a chorus of sing-song voices.

Martha shut the door gently and was heading back down the hall when a younger woman ran up to her. They nearly collided, and Martha said, "Ms Cole, are you all right?"

"Oh, Martha, come quick. The pregnant girl who staggered up the steps an hour ago…"

The women ran to the infirmary, and the Time Lords followed behind. They took one look at Merope Gaunt lying listlessly on the bed, quiet even though she was in her final labour pains, and knew that she was the fixed point. The Doctor heard M's breathing grow faster and shallower, a change that he recognized by now, which meant tears weren't far behind. The Doctor put his arm around M and led him back to the corridor, where they sat against the wall, waiting for the young witch to die. "But, she's got magic, she could do something to save herself. How could she not want to live, for the sake of her child?" whispered M.

"She's given up on any possible future."

M's breathing hitched slightly. "I apologise for things I've said, about wanting to die…about not deserving to be alive. It wasn't right for me to say those things to you."

"It's okay. I understand you were in terrible pain. It just scared me, because I don't think I could stand it if I lost you, again. You don't still feel that way, do you?"

M shook his head vehemently. "And you won't lose me. I mean, if I leave, it won't be…like that."

The Doctor didn't reply, lost in anxious thought about what could cause M to leave and how to prevent it. A baby began to cry, and they heard a hollow voice say, "Tom, after his father…Marvolo…M-A-R-V-O-L-O, after his grandfather…Riddle."

It wasn't long until Merope breathed her last, and the Muggle women moved the baby into another room, put him in a cloth diaper, and fed him a small bottle of formula. The Time Lords checked again, and sensed no other fixed points. They went to tell the others. "Oh no, what is it?" asked Hermione, as soon as they entered the TARDIS and removed the Cloak of Invisibility.

The Doctor had managed to put on a smile, but M had obviously been crying. "Is it hopeless?" asked Harry.

The Doctor shook his head. "His mother's death was the fixed point."

There were sighs of mixed sadness and relief. "Shall we go in now, or tomorrow?" Harry asked Ashley.

"Some theories suggest the first moments of infancy are crucial for personality development."

That was enough to convince Harry. The five of them bundled up and headed out into the snowy, bitterly cold New Year's Eve. The Time Lords had left the orphanage gate open, and they slipped into the building and proceeded to the room where the baby who might become Lord Voldemort was lying in a cot. Nobody was around; Ms. Cole and Martha had gone to telephone the authorities about Merope's death. As they watched, the baby began to thrash and cry, and the raw redness of his skin, and his unhappy wrinkled face reminded Harry strongly of the thing from the train station. Tom Riddle continued to cry, not loudly, but with increasing distress. "Did they feed him?" asked Ashley.

The Doctor nodded. "He says he wants to be held."

Everyone looked at him in shock, except for M. "That's right, you said you speak human baby," said Harry, stepping to the cot and very carefully picking up his worst enemy, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow. "How is that, Tom? Better?"

The baby promptly stopped crying and looked at Harry. His eyes were very dark and alert. "Um, he's staring at me. I thought newborns are supposed to be blind for a while."

"Muggles are," offered Hermione. "Magical newborns tend to be precocious."

Harry smiled at her. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"I know that parenting isn't a part-time job, Harry," she said, a little sternly. "You can't act like a dad and then just leave whenever you feel like it-"

"Who are you? What are you doing in here?" cried a voice from the doorway.

Everyone turned to see a very surprised and angry Ms Cole. She was only nineteen, had only worked at Wool's Orphanage for a few weeks, but her sharp features were already showing signs of strain. She smoothed her pale hair and tried to assume a presence of authority. The Doctor strode over to her, holding out his hand and smiling. "Sorry, it's just so serendipitous. You see, for the past year we've been discussing adopting again, and recently decided that it's time, and so when we were out for a walk just now and saw your gate open it seemed like a sign to us, so we just-"

"The gate was open? Oh. Oh, I must have left it open when that girl-"

Ms Cole put a hand to her forehead and gathered her wits, then continued, "My apologies, sir. We do not normally admit visitors at such a late hour."

"No, I'm sorry. We shouldn't have intruded like this. Oh, I'm still being rude. I'm Dr David Turnipseed, this is my wife Dr Ashley Turnipseed, her brother Michael Tardis, and our children Harry and Hermione."

Ms Cole's face brightened a bit as she glanced around at the family. They were well dressed and appeared healthy and sane, if rather modern. "Doctors, the both of you. How lovely."

She glanced at Harry, who was still holding Tom, and added, "And you say you're ready to adopt...immediately?"

"Oh, yes. We so want to give the children as much time as possible to bond with their new sibling, what with university just a few years away."

Ms Cole couldn't quite believe the incredible coincidence that an orphan would be born just an hour before a family arrived seeking to adopt, but she had no reason to suspect foul play, and she couldn't refuse what seemed like a very good and lucky chance for an orphan. She wrote down the address in London that the Doctor provided, and he assured her that she could visit anytime to check on young Tom. She also accepted the donation to the orphanage that the family offered, oddly, in gold coins. She couldn't explain why, but the whole affair had a magical air to it, as if it were a fairy tale. She only hoped it was the sort with a happy ending.

The Adoption of Children Act, which introduced legal adoption in England and Wales, came into operation on January 1, 1927.