Harry's heart felt as if it was about to burst as he looked at the forms of Ron, Hermione, Lily and Sirius all standing next to him. They were neither humans nor ghost, and somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he thought they looked somewhat like the Riddle that had appeared out of the diary in the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago. It felt as though he was looking at them through a thick sheet of glass, a window, but not only from their appearances. These were four people from a life he had a long lost, and he almost felt as though being with them before had been some part of a very vivid dream. His mother, especially, appeared so distanced in his mind, her smile radiating towards him from miles away.
Harry then realised that not of all them were here. He wanted to see James, Lupin, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Tonks and everyone else… He wanted to see everyone who has been murdered because of him, to apologise to them all… He looked at each of the four smiling faces in turn, trying to read their expressions. Hermione spoke first.
"Oh, Harry, we're so happy to see you!" She exclaimed, her smile the most sincere of all. Yet her eyes still displayed signs of sorrow and concern that Harry wasn't surprised to see. "I could barely believe it when we felt you use The Resurrection Stone! I'm so glad to see you're alright."
Harry tried a smile, but found that this was a rather difficult thing to do. "I wasn't sure if you could arrive here." He managed.
"There's no time in the world of the dead, Harry." Said Hermione, guessing that he was thinking about time travel. "We just… exist."
Harry bit his lips after this, thinking about the others who were still in the realm of death. "Where are the others?" He asked.
He saw Hermione's expression change, her smile faltered, and then faded away. Her eyes seemed more luminous than before.
"What?" Said Harry. He looked towards Ron who was wearing an uncomfortable expression, to Lily who was sympathetic and to Sirius who was silent and waiting. "Was there a problem with them?"
"It's nothing to worry about, Harry." Said Sirius, attempting a smile but giving up after a moment.
"Won't you tell me?" Harry asked, worried.
Hermione took a deep breath when no one replied. "Well… It's not actually the bearer of The Resurrection Stone who chooses the people they want to bring back…" She said carefully. "It's the dead who decide weather to return for that short while or not."
Harry stared at her as these words crashed over him, and he realised what they meant. All of the other people that he wanted to see once again, his friends and family, didn't want to visit him. Neville and Luna had lost faith in him after all this time… Lupin and Tonks surely blamed him for the life that had been taken from them so unjustly; they hated Harry for having been taken away from their son so soon into his life… The Weasleys didn't want to see his face ever again, including Ginny, who he had thought light have actually liked him… Hagrid was probably in denial about his very existence, and everyone else much the same. And his father – is own father – had decided that he had nothing to say to Harry. James had let Lily go on without him… Harry felt as though he had been stabbed with a dagger of ice as he thought about this. Was his father, perhaps, disappointed in him?
He looked up at the faces of the four people who had stayed with him until the very end, and all else that lied after it. He could feel his eyes begin to cloud slightly but he ignored that, intent upon changing the subject before he became overwhelmed with the truth. He thought about how glad he was that at least Ron, Hermione, Lily and Sirius still believed in him.
"I'm sorry," He said, his voice weaker than he wanted it to be. He shook his head as if that would help to clear his mind. "I didn't mean for this to happen, I didn't mean for any of you to die… This is all my fault."
"You can't blame yourself for this, mate." Said Ron. "We all knew what we were risking when we joined you for this war, so no one can be blamed for it. Well, except Voldemort maybe…"
"We all made our sacrifices." Lily said, smiling at Harry as he looked at her. "There were many who would die happily for hope of the ending of this war."
Harry felt worse with every contradicting comment towards what he knew was fact. "No," He said, "It's completely my fault. My fault that we lost the war, my fault that Voldemort is probably still alive…"
He felt as though iron was pressing against his chest again, not allowing him to breath as he tried to brace himself for explaining everything.
"Honestly, Harry, no one can be blamed for this." Said Hermione.
"And it isn't as though everyone died." Sirius added. "I'm sure that Voldemort will be killed by someone one time or another."
There words made him feel worse and worse. He felt trapped in his own body, cursed. He had poisoned every person with a good nature that he had ever met, leading them to believe in the Boy Who Lived when there was now absolutely no hope. There was not a chance in the world that Voldemort could be killed. He was in half a mind to cower on the ground and live in self-loathing, never telling those who had remained with him about the terrible truth. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and looked up at the four faces waiting for him to speak. They were all apprehensive at his reaction to their words. He felt physical pain with the very idea of the past.
"I should have died," Harry whispered. "I should have let Voldemort kill me while I had the chance, before all of you had to die before me…"
"Harry, don't talk like that –" Began, Sirius, but Harry interrupted.
"Snape left memories. A whole series of memories, as his dying wish." Hermione and Ron knew this, but he carried on, forcing himself to tell the whole story without a pause, to tell the whole truth for the first time. He had barely allowed himself to think about this, never mind speak of it. "And towards the end of the memories, he left one with Dumbledore and himself sitting in Dumbledore's office, telling Snape that… that…"
"Harry, please tell us what's wrong," Said Hermione, looking more concerned than ever.
Harry felt his throat contort for a moment, his eyes prickling. "Dumbledore was telling Snape that I had to die. Telling Snape to tell me this when the battle began, so I could allow myself to be murdered by Voldemort."
"Dumbledore said that?" Ron asked in disbelief.
"He had to…" Said Harry. "Because on the night when Voldemort tried to kill me, a piece of his soul attacked itself to me… Making me his seventh and final Horcrux."
Hermione gasped, and Harry saw that his four visitors were dreadfully shocked. Harry decided to carry on before there were any questions.
"When I came out of the pensive, I was terrified. I didn't want to let myself die. I didn't want to give up everything I had ever believed in, and leave the world to chance. I… I wanted to find a solution… but there was no hope."
Harry had the mental image of himself pacing Dumbledore's office, seeing time slip away from him as he saw no way out of this, loathing Dumbledore for not doing something about this before. He wanted there to be some sort of happy ending to this war, but he couldn't think of a plan quick enough. He had heard the voice of Voldemort declare that the time was up. The war was to recommence…
"All I could do was go back to all the fighters, and hope that killing Voldemort enough to make him flee the earth would buy me the time to think of a real plan." Harry saw in his minds eyes the Acromantula scuttling from the dark forest, followed by Voldemort himself, flanked by his army of Death Eaters.
"But the Death Eaters were fighting harder than ever, and with Voldemort's wrath with them we were easily loosing. When we retreated to the castle," Harry addressed Ron and Hermione at this point, feeling his heart pound as they waited for him to talk. "I began to worry about whether anyone had a chance. He was so powerful, helping all of his Death Eaters and eliminating anyone he came near… I realised that there was no way I could pull this off alive."
"Is that when you started panicking, and we had to pull you aside from the battle?" Ron asked.
"Yes…" Harry replied.
"I was wondering." He said. "You weren't concentrating on the Death Eaters we were fighting…"
"With complete right to be distracted!" Hermione added, looking at Harry with luminous eyes.
"I was going to tell you both," Harry said after a short pause, hoping that Ron and Hermione would understand. "I really was, but then…"
He couldn't carry on. Then there had been an explosion. Harry could remember not being able to hear, not being able to think or feel until minutes passed. He had managed to stand up, and upon looking around he found that the entire corridor had been blasted open. The sky was visible through a huge hole in the castle's wall, and there, half buried in rubble, had been Hermione. Ron was keeling close by her side, and the first thing Harry had heard was Ron trying desperately to wake Hermione up as her blood soaked through the wreckage, turning it crimson and making it's way to the knees of Ron's robes.
The sound of Bellatrix Lestrange's crackling laugh made Harry look around, raising his wand, which he was glad to still have. Over twenty Death Eaters were in the corridor by this time, and Harry watched as one of them, wearing a mask, levitated what appeared to be a sword taken from a suit of armour. Harry was frozen in fear as the Death Eater made the sword slam into Ron's back, and through to his chest. His blood had begun to slide along the blade, pouring upon the already dead Hermione. His eyes had become unfocused, Harry remembered, and his last rattling breath was heavy with the sound of the irreversible damage done. This image had haunted Harry's nightmares every night since… His best friends…
Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione who wore dreadfully forgiving expressions. He wanted them to hate him as much as the others did, as much as he hated himself. "I didn't even end up facing Voldemort myself." He said in little over a whisper, remorse of their deaths still crashing over him. "I was dragged there by a dozen Death Eaters, seeing all of the fighters who were murdered because of me. Voldemort was the only one still standing… All of this happened because I was so scared of death. All of this happened because I wasn't as loyal as Dumbledore expected. I wasn't as brave as people wanted me to be."
Harry could feel his hands shake and his eyes begin to blur more. Ron and Hermione were silent. "I couldn't kill the snake," He said, his voice shaking, "but I had to let myself die. We had lost the battle even before I was captured. I failed at everything that I had waited so long to finish… This was entirely my fault…"
He broke off here; his heart feeling as though it was about to burst as he watched Lily and Sirius begin to fade away from him without another word. "He was too powerful… I don't know why I didn't just let myself die. I don't know why any of this happened the way it did… I'm the only one who can be blamed…"
Hermione had tears falling down her face now, and even Ron looked shaken. "Harry, this wasn't your fault…" She said, her voice high pitched.
But Harry could feel his blurry eyes begin to spill over as he saw the faces of the hundreds of dead bodies surrounding Voldemort who stood, waiting, in his memory. He was shaking, wishing for death as he held himself responsible for the deaths of his two greatest friends. After all they had been through…
"You both just got together," Harry whispered, "and I took that away… I couldn't defeat him…"
He felt his knees give way, and he put his head in his hands, seeing the faces of Lupin, Tonks, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Fred, George, Bill, Fleur and so many others, all of them lifeless and gone forever. He could see himself being dragged across the castle by the Death Eaters, the floor coated in the blood spilt because he wasn't brave enough to face death. He could hear the screams of hundreds of fighters as the giants smashed the walls of the school, killing all the students who had stayed behind to fight against Voldemort.
Harry saw the light being cast by Ron and Hermione begin to fade. He was left sobbing on the floor, hating himself more than he hated anyone else upon this earth. He was the only one to be blamed for this. He had failed at the one, last thing that had been asked of him. All he had wanted, in the end, was to live on past the war with Ron and Hermione. All he had wanted was to find a solution, to keep Voldemort at bay, to defeat him without dying.
He should have realised that he was no match for Voldemort. He should have realised that he had to die, or else every single supporter of his cause would be murdered one by one. He wished he knew a way back there now. He wished that he could have those options presented to him again. He would happily choose death over the regret he felt from the death of so many friends. He couldn't control his shaking and sobbing as he knelt upon this cold stone floor, regretting this fatal and irreversible mistake.
Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt something pressing hard on the back of his neck. It was a wand tip. He froze as he heard the cold and merciless voice of Tom Riddle speak. "… I believe that is my ring."
Harry felt a rush of fear mixed with loathing at the sound of that voice, but the fear seemed to overpower him as he thought of Voldemort. He moved away from Riddle's wand, and turned to face him, taking many paces backwards. Tom summoned the ring nonverbally, his expression still impassive as he examined Harry. He seemed utterly unaffected by Harry's tears. Harry was still shaking with the terror of meeting the dead, and with having to explain his greatest mistake.
Riddle looked at him for a long while, and then he slowly dropped his gaze to the ring in his hand. Harry couldn't read his expression. He wasn't sure how angry Tom was, but he soon realised that he didn't care. Harry could feel his hate for the other boy overrule his fear as he thought about Voldemort. He waited for Riddle to do something, anything, but over a minute passed before he finally spoke.
"I am not a supporter of Gellert Grindelwald." Riddle said softly.
Harry stared at Tom, transfixed with bewilderment. There was a long pause. That was… close to the last thing in the world Harry expected Riddle to say right now. He stared at Tom, and Tom stared back. Harry wondered if this was some sort of joke…
"That's why you hate me, isn't it?" Riddle asked quietly, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "That's also why you hate Dumbledore. It explains everything perfectly."
As Harry watched, still frozen, he saw Riddle's smile broaden.
"You said something about Dumbledore's past a few weeks ago," Riddle said, "So I did a little research and found out that no one other than Gellert Grindelwald stayed in the same village as Dumbledore for a while, Godric's Hallow. So I looked into the past of Grindelwald more, and discovered that the sign upon my ring was the same sign that Grindelwald was said to have left behind when he was expelled from Durmstrang at sixteen. This explains why you took such an easy disliking of me, for one thing… Though I was unaware of this being Grindelwald sign before."
Harry still did not speak. He was scared of disrupting this bizarre plan that Riddle had made in his head, this story that fitted somewhere merely because there was a sign upon a ring. Riddle seemed to take his silence as meaning something, so he carried on talking.
"Grindelwald has been causing destruction all across the world for years now. This also explains why you were so astounded that day, when Slughorn talked about there never having been a Wizarding War yet. There are many people who are in denial about everything that Grindelwald is doing, even while there are mass numbers of people dying each day."
Harry was still crying vaguely, perhaps from shock. All he could do was watch, as Riddle believed that he had worked out some brilliant mystery. Riddle was not smiling anymore at the idea of having solved this; instead he was looking for signs of recognition upon Harry's face. It wasn't hard for Harry to feign more devastation and shock… He wasn't sure if he was faking it, even.
"This also explains why you're a parselmouth," said Riddle, his tone quieter than ever.
There was a hungry look in his eyes as he examined Harry. His gaze was so determined that it reminded Harry of the Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets perfectly. Harry was under the impression that Riddle was only just realising where parselmouth fitted into his story.
"This explains why you're so good at Dark Magic… You were looked after by some sort of Dark Wizards, weren't you? That's how you know about the Unforgivable Curses already. It's a widely known fact that only true dark wizards or the descendants of Salazar Slytherin know Parseltongue. You're not a true heir, as I knew you couldn't be. But this fits."
Harry could barely believe that Riddle was linking him being a parselmouth into this somehow. This was more than he could have hoped for, by far. He knew that Riddle was determined to find an answer to everything, but this was almost too good to be true. The only thing that Harry wished was that he could see how Riddle was going to rationalise the idea of him somehow being a part of a force dedicated to the Dark Arts, intent upon facing Grindelwald… Harry had only leant a little bit about Grindelwald, from the textbooks of History of Magic class. He was scared that Riddle might ask him something he didn't know the answer to… But maybe he'd be lucky.
"Is this ring some sort of creation by Grindelwald?" Riddle asked sharply. "Did you recognise the sign, and know about the magical properties because they taught you about it?"
"Yes…" Harry replied. "There were a lot of items created by Grindelwald … he made a few of those rings…" He didn't know what else to add, so hoped that this was enough. He only lied about there being a few rings to be sure that Riddle didn't over think how his uncle had the ring on the night he killed his father and grandparents. For Riddle knew, Morfin could have been a huge supporter of Grindelwald. He could never know any better, nor care to know.
"I was right…" Said Riddle, his smile coming back slightly. Harry was reminded of the day when Dumbledore visited the eleven-year-old Tom in the orphanage, seeing the inhuman smile appear upon his face. He pushed away the thought, concentrating on Riddle's words to be sure that he didn't mess up this miraculous theory. "So what is it that the ring does, exactly?"
Harry felt his heart sink as Riddle looked at him, expecting an answer. Harry didn't want to stall for a lie, so he told the truth, for once. "It brings back the dead, for a while."
He watched for Tom's reaction, wondering if his curiosity to see the other boy's expression had made him tell the truth. Riddle appeared amazed as he glanced down at the ring again, but then Harry saw a shadow of fear and realisation cross the Heir of Slytherin's face. Harry knew that Tom would never want to bring anyone back. Not when he had been the cause of death to everyone he knew who was no longer alive. Harry felt like smiling at this, glad that this made them opposites, but instead he felt a stab of sorrow, which surprised him. Tom had never known anyone he was actually attached to, never mind his own mother or father, who he doubtlessly despised… Harry blocked that thought from his mind, wondering why it bothered him. He should be glad that the boy he hated so much was suffering…
"He actually made a ring to bring back the dead?" Tom asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes." Harry replied. "He's stronger than anyone could know… Smarter."
Riddle was gazing at Harry again, and the later wondered if Tom was trying to refrain from thinking about the people who were dead to him as he avoided the sight of the ring. "Then all of those people who I saw come from the ring… you lost them? I only caught sight of four of them just before two left…"
"Yeah…" Harry felt a stab of sorrow as he remembered about Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Lily and everyone else… but he tried to ignore that, not wanting to cry again while Riddle was staring at him. He dropped his gaze to the floor. Riddle seemed to see him struggling, so he carried on talking.
"Why are you at Hogwarts?" He asked.
Harry looked up again, glad for a chance to think of a lie, to distract him. "I'm sort of… undercover."
This piece of news seemed to interest Riddle. "Then you lied about what happened at the Ministry?"
"Partly," Harry replied, to be safe.
"Did they not understand who you were? Are they sending you to Hogwarts while they work everything out?"
That was exactly right, now that Harry thought about it, so he felt no need to lie. "Yes. But I don't think they'll work out who I am any time soon. I'm surprised that you worked this out…" He added a bitter note to the last sentence, for good measure, and to block the fact that he was quite content with this theory.
"Your name isn't Jonathan Smith, is it?" Riddle asked after a short pause.
Harry didn't reply to this, but Tom didn't appear to care about that. He took Harry's silence as a 'yes'.
"I should have realised before." Riddle carried on. "John Smith is just about the most obvious cover name…"
"I needed it to keep the Ministry at bay." Harry invented quickly. Upon hearing his own voice, he wondered whether he was annoyed at the idea of making such an obvious mistake. He felt almost as if that admitted defeat to Tom, suggesting that he couldn't always lie correctly.
"Oh, of course…" Riddle said quietly, contemplating Harry's words. "Such a common name could make you mistaken for another person, or else keep the Ministry busy with going back over all their work again. They could have hundreds of files under that name…"
Harry felt content with this being a good plan, but also felt as though he was being childish. Yet he didn't really care. He felt as though he had accomplished something brilliant as Riddle completely believed this new lie.
"Are you even English?" Tom asked.
Harry contemplated this question for a second… but decided that he shouldn't lie this time, seeing as Riddle already knew more than one language, known by the book resting on his bed. "No, I'm English. I've been to many countries, but originally England is where I was born."
Riddle seemed to want to ask Harry questions about the fictional dark wizards who brought him up after this, but he refrained form doing so. Then Harry wondered if he had just preformed some form of Legilimency, as he knew that Riddle had thought of this… A weak attempt of Legilimency, but Legilimency nevertheless. Tom surveyed him for a long moment before turning away for the first time, heading for his bed.
"I'm glad that I finally have the answers, but it's late. We should go to bed." He said.
"Yeah…" Said Harry, glad that the day was coming to an end at this. He reached his bed before he remembered that he needed to ask one more thing. Turning around to face Riddle he asked, "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"
Riddle smiled faintly. "All I care about is knowing the truth… So it wouldn't be fair if I told the others, who are rather far behind on learning all there is to know about you."
From this Harry took that Riddle wasn't one to share secrets as such, for he didn't care about anyone enough to want to, and he wasn't foolish enough to find amusement in taunting the Death Eaters or anyone else with what he knew – not in this context. Harry knew that Tom was going to bask in the glory of having solved the mystery for a while, and forget about it all when he became bored of it.
The only thing that Riddle couldn't forget, perhaps, was the odd reaction both boys had with the other when their skin touched… Harry wished he hadn't remembered about this, and made more effort to avoid looking at Riddle who changed into his pyjamas across the room. Maybe Riddle would forget about that… Though Harry wasn't sure how much more luck would be given to him. He tried to put the thought completely out of his mind as he got into his bed and closed the curtains surrounding it.
He was glad that one thing at least had been settled; Riddle was completely sure that Harry was some fighter against Gellert Grindelwald, adopted, for lack of a better term, by a group of dark wizards who taught him Parseltongue, Occlumency, Legilimency, the Unforgivable Curses and a whole number of other pieces of Dark Magic. This thought was almost comical for Harry, but he didn't truly have the will to even smile at this.
As near darkness surrounded him (the only light in the room being cast by Tom's beside lamp, which never did seem to be switched off), the faces of all the people from Harry's past seemed to appear before his eyes. Harry felt the weight of guilt press upon him as he tried to close his eyes for sleep. With the use of the ring, and the sight of his four most loyal relatives and friends, Harry felt as though everything from his nightmares, and from his past, had become more real. He rested against his pillow, and opened his eyes again, seeing his greatest mistake play like film before his eyes, from which tears were dropping silently. He had a feeling that it would be hours yet again before he actually fell asleep…
