Chapter 144:
Zevi, When I first met you, I fully expected you to be like Snape, a bitter and cold bastard with a flair for potions. I now know that only the last is true of you, and would, while I can, like to apologise for the way I treated you when we first met.
You have always been on my side when it comes to Tom (more or less, and more than any of the others certainly) and for that I would like to thank you. I couldn't ask for a better friend, and I apologise for having compelled your actions - if Tom tries to harm you due to them, remind him of his oath to me. He'll know what I mean.
Anyway, that's not the real reason I'm writing to you now, as much as I mean my words, I dare say you've always been perceptive enough to pick up on what I didn't say without my need to verbalise or express myself like this.
I don't know what you know of my plan, but this is what I must have you do…
Tom blinked, groaning, before a sensation of extreme alarm tore through his body.
Oh no. What happened. He opened his eyes more firmly, only for black hair to swim into focus in front of him. Harry? Wait, no, unfortunately, not…
"Black-?" he began, frantically trying to pull himself together. Everything flooded back. Salazar - Harry! He started to his feet, only to notice Zevi and Abraxas, and for the matter Granger and Weasley, stunned around him.
Another blonde swum into focus, Lovegood.
Alphard pulled him to his feet, more securely, eyes filled with concern. He couldn't be bothered with that now, and damn this was humiliating.
A letter fell from his clothing, and he abruptly picked up a letter, flipping it to read his name in Harry's handwriting. Harry. He didn't have time for letter reading now! He stuffed the envelope into his pocket, meeting the gazes of Alphard and Lovegood.
He'd been stunned. Numerous times. By Prince - he was going to kill the little twit! He presumed these two were the ones to wake him up. He'd make sure to thank them later.
"Harry and Voldemort are that way," Alphard said quickly, pointing out the castle. "Or so goes hearsay."
There was none of the usual levity in the joker's tone this time. He nodded, distractedly, picking up his wand, utterly furious. How could Harry be so stupid!
He started that way, only for Lovegood to catch his arm. He almost snarled at her, determined to kill the next person who came between himself and his friend. She only looked at him with those blue eyes for a moment.
"You'll need to fill in the spaces," she told him seriously, before shoving him away. "Go! Bring him back."
Heart in his mouth; he ran.
-I've told this to Zevi and Alphard too, Brax, but if my plan is successful then Voldemort will be going back to 1942 in the place of Tom, to ensure that the timeline doesn't implode.
However, in occurrence to the timeline, it has become apparent to me that Abraxas Malfoy and all of you existed in that time period, to give birth to your children - or, in Zev's case, to create the potion allowing acquaintances of ours to give birth (did you know that Leonard Potter is actually infertile?) while his sister Eileen gives birth to the git called Snape, and he gives birth to his squib son Hadrian (!) of whom were both shortly killed - suggesting that you must return.
Yet, it seems unfair to me to condemn some of my dearest friends to the fates of which I'll detail you, let alone to force you to keep company with Voldemort, and so I devised a plan. If you should so wish, I will not and cannot force you, I have included a Doppelganger spell at the bottom of this letter.
If you should wish to stay in this time with Tom, then you must simply use this spell and send an alternate version of yourself back to keep the timeline running smoothly. Nonetheless, you may also return if you should wish, as I understand you all have families and parents to attend to…
Harry stared at Voldemort for a moment, as the other sent every Death Eater in his army to charge upon Hogwarts.
"Just so we're not interrupted," the Dark Lord stated coldly.
Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn't move until the last Death Eater was gone. Voldemort knew he couldn't afford to have them around to aid the Dark Lord either.
It was mutually beneficial that this battle was dealt with privately. He felt nauseas with fear, his hands shaking, his fingers bleached white around his wand. Scarlet eyes noted this with amusement.
"Scared, Harry? You can surrender now, if you wish."
"Never," he spat.
Voldemort shrugged, lazily, and then, without any further ado, killing curses were speeding his way. The objective was more than clear. Voldemort didn't need to toy with or torture him, for the consequences of even one of those spells would prove damning.
He swallowed, rolling out of the way, pointing his wand at the other, summoning every scrap of courage and determination he had, every feeling of remorse he possibly possessed. He was drowning in guilt, tears blurring his eyes with final goodbyes and regrets collected over the years.
"Empathio Reformio!" he slammed the spell out, lashing out simultaneously through the link, as another killing curse narrowly missed his form.
His aim was true, and Voldemort's eyes widened almost comically.
"What is this?" he spat, "what do you think you're doing?"
The tears continued to roll down his face, his wand fixed. He prayed this would work. He didn't know what would happen if it didn't.
The ring sprung open, black tearing into Voldemort like shadows absorbed, then the Locket, the cup, the Diadem, the snake…and himself.
He dropped to the floor only a moment after Voldemort did, screaming.
The pain was worse than creating a Horcrux, worse than anything he'd ever felt before.
He was dying, he was sure of it, or hoped for it, he didn't know. The agony ripped from his lungs, from his heart, from his very soul itself. His vision felt hazy, and Voldemort's eyes were frozen on him with absolute hatred as the truth of what was happening made itself clear to him. It seemed to last forever.
They were both on the floor, their torture joint and mutual.
His wand hand was shaking violently now, barely even in his grip, and he put everything he had into holding onto the connection, even though it doubled Voldemort's agony back two fold.
The next second, a force slammed into him.
Tom!
- It's your choice, ultimately, Alphard.
If you do go back, or if any of you choose to do so instead of sending back a doppelganger, you must make certain that whichever variant of you is with him, that Voldemort never finds out the truth.
I will put his memories into a remembrall, you may have seen Tom with it, the memories of this year. He can never know what happens, as far as the world is concerned, Harrison Evans is dead.
No time travel, no nothing.
It cannot be like that, for Voldemort has to occur for my world to exist, and Tom has assured me that if he does knows me, he can never be Voldemort, and for that reason, he cannot ever know me as he does now. It would ruin everything.
I'm sorry.
Maybe this is selfish of me, but I know you'd do the same in my place. Just view it as another game, Alphard, and know that it will work out well in the end.
Tom will either stay here, or, if he's in a particularly bad mood, kill Voldemort and return home with you all. If that is the case, there is nothing I can do…but, I can ask you, wherever you guys end up, here, or back there…take care of him for me, please.
Don't let him become anything less than his greatest potential, he's worth so much more than that.
I don't have much time, there's still so much I need to do.
Thank you again, I guess. I'm not really any good with these goodbye things, but I suppose that's what this is - goodbye.
I sincerely wish you all the best in life, and hope you manage to achieve all the brilliant things you want to do. Don't mourn me, there's no point, and, if you should see me after everything plays out, I only ask that you remember how I used to be and not what I will become.
All the best,
fondly and forever,
Harry.
Good luck!
"Well, well, look who it is - looking for your boyfriend, gorgeous?"
Tom ground to a reluctant stop outside the castle and its wards, expressionless in the face of a few Death Eaters, and the bitch Bellatrix at the front of the crowd.
He ignored Lucius; all his orders having already been given and dealt with. A glorious, horrific battle ravaged the area around them, with ministry members and phoenix members coming in from all directions, the students panicked but struggling to keep the oncoming dark tide back from their school.
Their precious Headmaster was nowhere to be seen.
"I am, actually," he replied coldly. "So get out of my way or I'll destroy you."
She cackled.
"Will you now, honey, you and what army?" she leered at him, prowling forwards, her lips painted bloody. She scraped a nail along the side of his face, her breath hot on his face. "I don't know who you think you are," she hissed, suddenly enraged. "Or what your relationship is to our lord, but don't think it stands for anything when he's not here to protect you from us. Who are you, really? Riddle's not a pureblood name."
Lucius' face had turned white.
"Bella-" he began.
Tom smiled back in response, pleasantly.
Then he set the Dark mark burning, striding through them as they dropped to the floor, screaming, clutching their arms, looking as if they wanted to tear the skin off just to escape the sensation.
"Do you know who I am now?" he asked mockingly, disregarding their whimpers. He flicked his wand in the air, tracing letters, feeling them all giving him their utmost attention now.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
I am Lord Voldemort.
They all gasped, shocked, and all together rather more subservient. Fabulous. Secondary. Harry.
"Now," he demanded dangerously. "Where is Harry? And who wants to be my volunteer?"
"He'll already be dead," one of them croaked. Thinking furiously ahead, he shot out a killing curse without a seconds thought, before levitating the body in front of him.
"You can be my volunteer," he told the corpse. "The rest of you, stay put and halt the attack."
"Is Potter really Harrison Evans then?" another Lestrange asked, softly. He didn't bother deigning that with a reply.
Sprinting.
He had an infuriating hero to save.
Hermione,
I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciated you before, did I?
You are brilliant, the brightest witch of our age and I honestly believe you could give Tom a run for his money, don't ever doubt that.
But, even more importantly, you are one of the best friends I have ever had, and I will always love you for that. You've changed so much from the shy, bossy bookworm with the frizzy hair who fought a troll with me, and saved the stone. I could never have done it without you, and I could never do this without you either.
You're a hero.
I can never thank you enough, or tell you how amazing you are.
I'm sorry for the times I've lied to you, or even compelled you, and I don't expect you to forgive me because what I did was unforgivable.
I don't know if I will be able to complete the spell you gave me, and if Tom refuses to do so, I'm going to need you to cast it. I intend it to send Voldemort back in time to be Tom.
Don't worry, I'll have taken care of everything else by then.
You're probably wondering why I'm writing you this letter instead of just telling you this in person…right now you're sitting opposite me bickering with Ron about McGonnagal's potions homework.
You always did want the best for us, didn't you? Thank you for that, and I'm sorry I never heeded your advice before.
I promised I wouldn't die on you, and that's true, but…I'm a Horcrux, Hermione. I've had his soul in me since I was a child, and according to Tom (he knows how these things work) that means my mind and everything has developed around that shard…when I fix Voldemort, and make him Tom again to be sent back, that shard of soul is going to come tearing out.
I don't think having the mind of a one year old would be too bad for me, it would probably be easier even, I'm just sorry that I never told you about it.
The point is, this is my goodbye.
My mind might be fixed one day, you never know with all the magical healing developments people are trying, but I cannot be certain, and will not leave without saying goodbye to you.
So, goodbye, Hermione. Thank you again for everything. I wish you everything good in life, and hope you are happy and successful, like I know you will be.
Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't do something, because you can. I hope one day you can come to accept that I have to do this, but if you can't, I understand.
Don't let me go to the Dursley's this time round…I think I'd like growing up with Sirius and Remus, if they'd have me. Anyway. Enough of that.
Thank you once last time,
All my love,
Harry, your best friend.
PS: If Tom stays here, help him out, will you? He's alright once you get to know him. I think you'd even be good for each other.
Harry's eyes widened, as another green light cracked the ground he'd just been standing on.
His gaze flicked to Voldemort, who was desperately throwing the killing curses in his direction now, face waxy and blurred, teeth gritted, screaming, almost blind with the pain and just shooting the curses wildly in his direction now. Anything to cut the connection, make it stop.
His vision felt hazy, black spots beginning to appear.
Voldemort was slumping too, energy all but spent, nearly sobbing and Harry didn't know how he felt about that.
The snake face was turning into something far more human, a nose growing, eyes looking like the crimson was bleeding out.
Pale fists were clenched, and then the other was thrown up into the air, as if by magic, arms spread, screaming.
Harry screamed too, wishing it would stop. Anything to make it stop.
He wondered if he'd hallucinated Tom too, just because he - bizarrely, as he couldn't stand the thought of Tom seeing him vulnerable - wished the other was there. It would be…comforting. Harry wished anyone would be here, just to remind him of who he was.
He could feel his eyes dropping, his breath harsh with torment. He kept up the spell, wand almost slack in his hand, putting everything he had into it.
After he was done, then he could rest. Not yet, not yet.
He almost yelped when he felt himself be dragged forcibly across the grass, the grip barely leashing violence, and darted his eyes up, thrashing to think some death eater might be trying to stop him.
Tom.
Oh. It seemed the other was here after all. How funny.
Guess Zevi unstunned him after all…was unstunned a word? Ennergated? Ennervated?
"Tom…" he murmured. "Fancy seeing you 'ere."
"Shut up golden boy, and stay in the bloody circle. I'd take your wand away, but it makes no difference anymore, so don't you dare collapse on me."
Circle…? He looked around him.
Rings of blood around him, great swooping designs and pentacles that Tom was carving at warp speed. He recognised them from somewhere.
Wait.
"You're making a Horcrux? Now!" he demanded, faintly, keeping his eyes on the other boy's form, though not quite up to moving.
Pain thrummed through his body, he could do nothing but lie there, lie and focus on keeping the remorse pouring into Voldemort. "I'm sorry for stunning you," he added quickly.
"I said shut up," Tom hissed, before his tone softened. "Preserve your strength."
"Why are you making a Horcrux-?"
"Stubborn," Tom muttered, but then, the next second, he was chanting.
Ron,
I know you're probably pissed off with me now, and I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do to take back everything I've done, but I'm sorry nonetheless.
You're my best mate, and, honestly, you were my first friend ever. Lame, huh? I know you're not really much of a letter person, so I'll keep it short.
Thanks. Thank you times a million, for being my friend, for always being there for me, and for not turning your back on me when I went with the Slytherins.
I know you don't like them, and I know you don't like Tom, but give him a chance. I really think he can change things. But this letter isn't for me to talk about Tom with you.
I just wanted to say goodbye, and thank you, thank you, thank you, all over again. I doubt I can say it enough.
I wish I could be there to see you take the Chudley Cannons to success as their kick ass awesome, bad ass keeper (my firebolt is now yours, by the way), or to be the best Auror that this world has ever seen, but I can't. I don't need to see to know that you'll be bloody brilliant though, cause that's what you always are.
I could never have done anything or been anything without you, hell, if it wasn't for you and your crazy chess skills (and I never did beat you, did I?) then we would all have died and Voldemort would have risen in first years. That was when you were eleven, think how incredible you are now? Sorry to sound corny, but it has to be said.
Whether you forgive me for my numerous wrong doings or not, I wanted to tell you not to feel like you are nothing, cause you're not.
On the first day I met you, you talked about how whatever you did would be nothing special, cause your brother have done it already, but they haven't. Y
ou were the one who beat McGonagall's chess set, who faced your fear of spider's in the forest with me like a true Gryffindor, and followed me to the Chamber and so many other stupid things. You, not your brothers, you. Just saying.
Anyway, I said I'd keep this short, so I'll wind this down.
Hope you have an amazing life - treat Hermione well or I'll find a way to make you suffer! :P - and I wish you everything you ever wanted.
Harry.
Weasley is my King...!
Pain. Blistering pain.
Tom could feel his soul shredding (and didn't that prove all the bitches at the Orphanage wrong? He had one after all!) Lovegood had told him to fill in the spaces, and at first he wasn't entirely sure what she meant.
Then he realised.
The spaces in Harry's soul…Harry's mind was unravelling with nothing in the middle, so he would replace that. He knew the boy had been holding on for the sake of his sanity and his spell, so the soul was still in place, now he needed to guide it out so to speak, and put his own Horcrux in its place.
It was excruciating.
He could very vividly understand now why most wizards forwent this route.
His teeth gritted, the world spinning and slipping around him. Finally, it was done; a piece of soul to replace Voldemort's Horcrux, and another piece to patch the hole he'd made in Harry's soul.
Could someone be a double Horcrux? Because it seemed Harry was, and so didn't break the rules of their deal, as it was still technically one Horcrux as the vessel was the same.
Unable to stop a moan from falling from his lips, he dropped to his knees, exhausted, shuddering, not having enough energy to walk to where Harry was lying, almost passed out, but not quite.
He crawled over instead, for the second time in his life in such a situation, fingers searching for a pulse, almost collapsing on top of the other with the effort it took to support his own weight.
"Harry?" he whispered.
"Tom…whad'ya do?"
"Saved your pathetic life and mind, as always…alright?"
"Think so…you?" slurred voice. Harry was as tired as he was…but it was Harry.
He could have laughed in delight. It was Harry! His Harry!
"Peachy."
"Really, because the two of you look rather worse off for wear?" came an icy voice.
He turned his head, sluggishly, nearly overbalancing, as Harry too struggled to sit up, trembling with the exertion it took, his friend's other hand gripping his arm tightly, his body angling defensively in front of him.
Tom decided then that it was extremely bizarre looking at himself.
He glanced at Harry, to find emerald eyes already on him.
Voldemort smiled.
They raised their wands as one.
Tom,
I honestly don't know what to write here, which is funny, because there are so many things I could say and so many things I never told you.
I could tell you to stop frowning like a sore loser because my plan beat yours, but I don't want to get into that 'victory' now.
I could tell you not to be a bastard, and then forestall your never ending array of comebacks regarding the marital state of your parents.
I could even tell you that I'm sorry, so sorry, that it had to end this way. I guess we're just not meant for a fairytale, right? I am sorry, though, Tom, as much as you hate apologies and scorn them as meaningless.
Who knows, maybe you've already put down the paper in disgust as you've essentially labelled it as my 'suicide note.'
It's odd, when I first met you I never imagined that all this would come out of it, in fact, I thought you were a total arrogant, evil git in all honesty.
Well, I still think you're an arrogant git, but you're not evil.
You're actually the most brilliant, amazing, greatest men I've ever met - and I'm allowed to say that now with the full knowledge that the implication of my words will never get back to my coherent mind.
I also know that you're going to do great things, so much greater than Voldemort. Hell, if anyone was going to successfully rule the world, I'd bet my entire Gringotts back on it being you. Just don't be a twit about it, alright?
Let people help you, everyone needs help sometime, and it doesn't reflect badly on you to accept it. Most people would call it delegation.
We never did finish that manifesto, and you know, I doubt you want the thoughts of a one year old for your new constitution, but then, I don't suppose it matters because you've always known me better than anyone else…and don't tell Ron or Hermione I said that!
Speaking of plans for world domination, consider this my parting shot - equal opportunities.
We both know that equality would never work, as society would stagnant if everyone was automatically the same without reward for work or whatnot.
But anyway - go for equal opportunities, for me. Put everyone on the same starting point regardless of their blood or family or species, then judge by talent alone. None of that other crap. Okay?
Good luck.
Look after our world for me, and, more importantly, look after yourself.
Try not to work yourself to exhaustion, and for crying out loud don't suddenly start mourning me or whatever.
You'll forget me one day, I'll just be the memory of a boy you used to know, and that's okay. That's fine. I want you to find someone else, or whatever your preference is, nobody deserves to be alone, least of all you.
You deserve everything, Tom.
I should be wrapping this up, you're probably bored out your mind by now, if you're still reading…all the bleeding sentiment. Haha.
Makes good firewood though?
But no, seriously, thank you, Tom, for everything.
Be happy,
'Love' or whatever we're supposed to put here,
Harry.
A/N: The italics are the letters, if you hadn't guessed. And regarding the first three, Zevi's, Alphard's and Abraxas' are pretty similar, so it's just going through the different parts kind of like I did with the prophecy. I hope it worked out.
This chapter was so hard to write, it's ridiculous! I hope it turns out alright. And no, it's not the end quite yet ;)
Thank you for all the reviews :)