Year Six: Chapter Twenty-Two

Dinner that night was interesting. Tom had debated with himself whether he should try to play Harry Potter or Tom Riddle, and he'd eventually settled on Tom Riddle, just because wide-eyed, innocent, and bravely suffering in silence simply didn't come naturally to him. He sat down, noted the way Remus eyed him, and determined that yes, Sirius had told the wolf. "Good evening," he said pleasantly.

The wolf twitched. "Good evening… Tom, was it?"

"It's my preferred name," Tom agreed, "but if that's too difficult for you to remember, you're welcome to continue calling me Harry."

"How did Dumbledore die?" Remus asked, rather than muck around with small talk.

Tom could appreciate the desire to get straight to the point, so he took a bite of dinner and carefully chewed and swallowed before answering. "Assisted suicide," he said at last. "My compliments to Kreacher, by the way. He's gotten quite good at cooking."

Sirius frowned at the other two sitting at the table. "Assisted suicide?"

Tom sighed. "Voldemort - I - had defenses placed on my horcruxes. Dumbledore found one while trying to make Voldemort mortal once more, and he failed to avoid getting cursed. He's been slowly dying all year. He requested that I kill him so I would gain possession of the Elder Wand, hopefully giving me an advantage in my eventual confrontation with my other self."

Remus scowled. "Why would you fight You-Know-Who if you are him?"

Biting his lip, Tom considered how to phrase his answer so that a pair of ridiculous Gryffindors would understand. "At first, it was just because I know myself well enough to know what Voldemort would do if I came before him. He would either kill me, trusting his other horcruxes to be enough to ensure his immortality, or lock me away to ensure my eternal safety. Neither is acceptable to me."

Sirius cocked his head, doglike. "You said at first. What changed?"

Tom licked his lips. "Potter, I suppose." At their blank stares, he rolled his eyes. "His brain chemistry is decidedly different than mine was, and it's had some effect. I understand some things now that made no sense to me before, and I've decided that my original methods were ill-advised. I am not and never will be a good person, but that doesn't mean I need to wipe out half of Magical Britain's population in my bid for power."

"Especially not if you're immortal," Remus commented. "With all the time in the world, there's no reason not to go the political route."

"Precisely," Tom agreed. "I was impatient, and I shouldn't have been."

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with something. "Do you regret killing James and Lily?" he asked at last, looking like he didn't really want to know the answer.

Tom bit his lip, doing the man the favor of actually considering it before answering. "No," he said at last. "Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't exist, and I will never regret my own existence. However, I do regret the effects it had on others, and… And even at the time, as I killed her, I regretted that Lily Potter's brilliance would cease to be. I found her impressive, and I would have rathered she survive."

"What about James?" Sirius demanded.

Tom stared at the man long enough that the older man started to look abashed, even though he clearly felt that he was in the right. "You and James Potter made the lives of many of my younger followers hell while they attended Hogwarts. I may regret that the Potter line has been reduced to one, but I care very little about the life of James Potter in particular."

There was silence for a bit, punctuated only by Tom's use of the silverware as he continued to eat despite the two Marauders' quiet contemplation.

Remus heaved a sigh. "That's… fair," he said, though it sounded like it hurt him to admit it.

Sirius had a mutinous expression, but he didn't say anything, which Tom took as unwilling agreement. The animagus glowered at the table for the rest of the meal, but by the time Kreacher arrived to remove their plates, the expression had softened. "What do you think your relationship with Harry will be, after?" Sirius asked before Tom could escape to his room.

Tom blinked. "Relationship?"

Glancing between them, Remus tentatively attempted to elaborate. "You've made… allies out of most of Harry's friends. Do you really think you won't have to interact with him again just because you give him a different body?"

Put that way, no. Tom didn't suppose Hermione would be willing to give up her friendship with Potter. Ginny, perhaps, but Hermione still considered Potter important. Tom frowned. Ron and Neville were fine - Tom liked Ron well enough, and even found him useful, but he wasn't particularly emotionally attached, and of course Neville was just an interesting diversion at best - but Tom didn't like the idea of sharing any of his girls with Potter.

"What are you thinking?" Sirius asked carefully.

Tom worked his jaw, trying to think his way around this new problem. "I hadn't yet considered that," he admitted at last, frustrated.

"Hermione?" Sirius asked knowingly.

Tom started and glared suspiciously at the older man, who held up his hands defensively. "It's pretty clear you care about her, pup-I mean, Tom, and she's Harry's best friend." Sirius looked away for a moment, thinking, then said, "I was worried when James started dating Lily that it'd… lessen our friendship somehow. I had something of a crush on him, even though James was straight as an arrow, and I didn't like the idea of sharing him with Lily."

"That's hardly the same," Tom retorted, expression going flat. "I'm not worried Hermione's going to go off and marry Potter." He blinked, realized what he'd said, and corrected, "I'm not worried at all."

"Well, all the same," Sirius said with a careless wave of his hand, "the point of my story was that in the end it was fine. I ended up loving Lily just as much as I loved James." Then he paused as though realizing what he'd said and hurried to add, "Not that I think you're going to fall in love with Harry. I'm more than fine if you don't do that. I just meant to say that it worked out, and I think that sort of thing usually does as long as you don't get too possessive and push the person you care about away." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Though it's alright if you do end up falling for Harry, because, I mean, he's gonna be my kid, and I wouldn't blame anyone for falling for my kid so long as they didn't act on it because –"

Remus groaned. "Shut up, Sirius."

"I have no intention of falling for Potter," Tom said, lips curling up at the corners as he fought not to laugh at the notion. "Even Severus would be more likely," he added, just because he knew Sirius's reaction would be amusing. Sure enough, the man looked ill and started humming loudly while covering his ears.

It wasn't until later that night, after Tom was already ready for bed and sitting at his desk, sketching out the details for the ritual to alter Voldemort's body, that Sirius came up, entering with a gentle knock. "Tom?" the man said quietly.

"Mm?"

"The offer's still there. For you. For the adoption. I'll adopt Harry, of course. I love him. But that offer was for the kid I've been getting to know, and since that kid was you… It's still an option. And you're always welcome here." Sirius gave him a tense, wary smile and left without waiting for a response.

Tom stared at the door, ritual forgotten. He swallowed, not liking how tight his throat suddenly felt. "Don't be ridiculous," he scolded himself after a minute and ruthlessly forced his attention back to his work.

Hermione arrived with Ginny and Luna the next morning. The rest of the Weasleys were meant to be arriving later, for dinner.

"You told Sirius and Remus?" Hermione asked, shutting the door behind them.

Tom sat up in his bed, where he'd been staring blankly at the ceiling. He hadn't realized it was already time for them to arrive. "Sirius anyway. Didn't mention that Potter's in a Dementor now though. Did he ask you about the oath?"

The girl sighed and nodded. "I told him that when I realized what had happened, I bargained with you and received your magical oath that you'd save Harry. Now what happened with Dumbledore?"

Tom flopped back onto his bed. "He destroyed the ring horcrux but got cursed for it. He's been dying all along and none of us ever even noticed." He rolled over, speaking into the pillow. "He knew it was me all along. Why did I even bother trying?"

"Oh." Hermione very clearly didn't know what to say to that. "Maybe… seeing you trying is what made him decide to give you a chance?"

"I've just been dancing in the palm of his hand all along," Tom groaned, still half-buried in his pillow. "It's humiliating."

Hermione bit her lip, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted Tom's back carefully. "I'm sorry." Then she glanced at his wand, sitting on the nightstand, and frowned. "Isn't that Dumbledore's wand?" she wondered.

"The Elder Wand," Luna corrected dreamily, picking it up and stroking the smooth wood reverently.

Tom grimaced. "I can't even be properly angry with the old man because he made me the Master of Death." He held up his hand, and Hermione realized there was a ring there that she hadn't seen before. "Turns out the Resurrection Stone was mine all along, and Potter's had the Invisibility Cloak since his first year."

Ginny sucked in a breath and glanced toward her bag, where she no doubt had the Cloak hidden.

"What… What does that do?" Hermione breathed, eyes wide.

Tom shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't have the slightest. I feel like I need to have all three on me at once for it to take effect, and since Ginny's had the Cloak, I haven't had a chance yet."

Hermione's scowl at that made it clear what her next course of action was going to be. With a huff, the muggleborn girl turned to Ginny with an expectant look. Once the redhead had retrieved it from her bag, Hermione snatched it from her and the Wand from Luna. "There," she said, thrusting the two artifacts into Tom's hands.

The room froze.

Literally. Time itself stopped, and Tom looked around curiously.

"Tom Riddle," came the strangely genderless voice he'd heard once before.

"Death," he acknowledged.

The figure coalesced before him and smiled. "You've decided then? You will become my Avatar?"

Tom swallowed in frustrated realization. Master of Death. Avatar of Death. They were distinct terms. They didn't convey the same idea at all. And he doubted Death cared in the slightest. He let out a long, steady breath, willing himself to move past that. He had been planning on becoming Death's Avatar, after all, even if he hadn't realized just how it would be achieved. "Can Hermione and Ginny speak with you as well?" he wondered.

Death shook Their head. "No. Once you are my Avatar in full, then I may speak to others through you, but I may not interact with this plane of my own accord otherwise." They gestured to the world around them. "Even this much is questionable, but allowed so I may instruct you in accepting your role."

"What does it mean, being your Avatar? I thought getting all three Hallows was supposed to make one the Master of Death."

They gave him a thin smile. "Death has no Master, but one can indeed master death." They waved a hand impatiently. "No matter. Your first task is thus: get rid of the Dementors."

"How?" Tom asked.

"When the time comes, you will wear my ring, bear my wand, and fasten my cloak around yourself. You will allow me into your body, and I will remove the stain of their presence." They smiled. "I will retrieve Harry Potter's soul for you at that time." They stepped closer and drew one finger under his chin, making him look up at them. They studied him, eyes narrowed curiously. "Yes. You will do quite well, I believe. It has been far too long since I last had a child who could bear my power."

"You had an Avatar before?" Tom blurted out. "Who?"

"Herpo," Death said like a sigh.

Tom blinked, then frowned, then scowled. "The Foul? The one who created both the first basilisk and the first horcrux?"

Death's expression turned somehow frostier than normal. "Indeed," was all they said though, then they disappeared.

Time started once again.

"So? You've got all three artifacts, right?" Hermione demanded. "Now what?"

Tom stared at her, then shook his head. "They want me to get rid of the Dementors," he said, dazed. "And it makes me Death's Avatar, not its Master."

"Oh," Ginny breathed. "That's what they meant back then. That you needed to collect all three Deathly Hollows."

Luna took back the wand and examined it, looking ecstatic to be holding the Elder Wand.

Hermione, on the other hand, was puzzling something out. At last, she laughed, shaking her head. "That's an… unfortunate misinterpretation, I suppose," she said wryly. "Certainly, the avatar of a certain power would be said to have mastered that power, but that isn't the same thing as being that power's Master."

"Yes," Luna agreed as she set down the wand and began to study the ring, "English manages to confuse things terribly, doesn't it."

"Indeed," Tom said, scowling. "Apparently I'm not the first either. That was Herpo the Foul."

"Really?" Ginny asked, face scrunching up. "Wasn't he, like, super evil?"

"Basically," Hermione confirmed. "He's the one credited with creating the first horcrux."

Tom shook his head slowly. "It feels like there's something I'm missing."

Neither girl had an answer for that, and it was close to time for dinner, so they headed downstairs. When they reached the kitchen though, they were surprised to find a full meeting of the Order of the Phoenix getting ready to start. Professor McGonagall caught Tom's eye and motioned for him to come stand near her.

"If everyone could quiet down," she said.

"Is it true?" Bill Weasley demanded.

Poppy Pomfrey stepped through the Floo. "Thank you, Minerva," she said as McGonagall Vanished the dust that accompanied her. She looked around the room. "Is everyone here?"

"Yes," McGonagall confirmed.

The Mediwitch nodded. "It is my sad duty to inform you that yes, Dumbledore has passed on." At the sudden burst of shouting that announcement caused, she snorted and Silenced everyone. "Thank you. Now, the pertinent details of the situation are as follows. Albus was cursed last summer. It should have been almost immediately fatal, but between Albus's power, my healing expertise, and Severus's not inconsiderable knowledge of the Dark Arts, we were able to slow down the curse's progression enough to give Albus most of this year to train his successor." She gestured to Tom. "Mister Potter has been meeting with Albus, learning vital information for taking down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and being groomed as the next leader of the Order of the Phoenix." The Mediwitch gave Tom a kind look. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a number of other people to visit regarding Albus's passing."

McGonagall pushed Tom forward a bit, ignoring that she'd sprung this meeting on him without any warning. "I know Albus has been training you," she said calmly, "but I believe it would ease some minds if you could explain what sorts of things he's been teaching you."

"Sure," Tom said. "Dumbledore has made sure I knew how Voldemort survived that night and how to counter his brand of immortality. I've learned dueling and history and ritual magic and everything and anything that might be helpful against Voldemort." Perfectly true, if slightly misleading.

Moody snorted. "You really expect us to follow a boy who hasn't even passed his NEWTS yet?"

Tom grit his teeth and smiled pleasantly at Moody. "If you'd rather continue showing up late to muggle villages, maybe shoot off a few Stunners, and get cursed in return for your trouble, feel free to do so. I intend to end Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters before the summer ends, and while your assistance would be appreciated, I neither expect nor need it."

"And how do you think you're going to do that, huh?" Moody challenged. "Albus spent decades fighting this war, and you think you can end it in just a couple months?"

Tom nodded. "I do."

To his credit, Moody waited for Tom to elaborate. When it became apparent that Tom had no intention of saying anything further though, he scowled. "How's that then? Going to walk up to him and give him a hug? Defeat him with the power of love or some such rot?"

Tom cocked his head. "Certainly not, and it alarms me that you think I would even consider such a course of action." He shook his head. "No. There is a potion I need Severus to brew, and I need to meet with the Dementors. Then I will force a confrontation where I will put an end to the threat Voldemort poses once and for all." Really, most of the wait time at this point was coming across the Dementors. Once he'd done that, everything would be over quickly. With any luck, it would be over before the end of the school year even.

Moody grunted and crossed his arms skeptically. Some members of the Order looked disappointed, while others merely looked discouraged. McGonagall sighed. "Mister Potter, is there anything you would like for us to do to help you achieve this course of action?"

Tom smiled at the Transfiguration Mistress. "If you could create several dozen portkeys, I would appreciate it. I'll need a means of transporting injured to be healed as well as portkeys that will bring people to the site of the final battle." He turned to the rest of the Order. "Honestly, I've never fought with any of you before, and I don't have time to become familiar with your fighting styles. If you want, I am happy to alert you when this final confrontation is to take place, but I won't be able to focus on keeping you safe."

Tom wasn't sure what, exactly, Dumbledore thought he would do as far as leading the Order went. His only experience with leading involved far more torture than he thought the Order would be willing to put up with.

A blonde – Fluer Delacour, he thought – nodded. "That is fine," she said. She gave him a tight smile. "I have no doubts that you will do as you say."

Oh. Potter saved her sister or some such thing, didn't he? Well, good job, Potter. Tom smiled back at her. "Thank you, Fluer." He glanced at Bill Weasley, who nodded and took Fluer's hand in his. "Bill," Tom added, pleased.

Tonks spoke up next. "I trust him," she announced. "Let me know, yeah?"

As though this were some sort of signal, person after person spoke up, announcing their faith in him. Tom glanced at Hermione, bemused, and the girl grinned back. In the end, only a few members of the Order left without offering their assistance, and they did so quietly and without fanfare. Even Moody grunted quietly, "You may as well send for me so at least someone out there knows what they're doing."

Tom marveled at how easily everything went. For a moment he almost felt grateful for Dumbledore's assistance, but then he remembered that, had Dumbledore not refused to help so many years ago, none of this would be needed in the first place. It was just balancing the scales at this point.

The first day back at Hogwarts, Draco passed on a message from his father. "There's to be a raid next weekend," the boy said, face pale. Astora was with him, and he was clutching her hand like a lifeline. The next weekend was meant to be a Hogsmeade weekend. "He and his Inner Circle will attack the Ministry while the rest of his followers and the creatures that've joined him wreck havoc at Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade."

"Well done," Tom said with a faint smile. "Do you know where the Dementors will be?"

"They're to be the main force in Hogsmeade," Draco said with a grimace.

Tom grinned. "Perfect." He ignored Draco's incredulous expression. The boy really should have more faith in him, but he was just a teenager still. Allowances could be made.

"Should we tell the Order?" Hermione asked when he told his girls that night. Luna stood at the foot of his bed, working on enlarging it because, as she'd explained, she was tired of being the only one not able to be warm and cozy while she slept. The only comment to this from the rest of the room was a resigned sigh from Dean and a muttered 'about time' from Ron.

Tom nodded. "I'll have the Order cover Diagon Alley, while The Gray can take care of Hogsmeade. That should free up some Aurors to defend the Ministry."

"Do you really think they're ready?" Ginny asked, frowning.

Tom shrugged. "Voldemort won't be able to send too many of his people with the Dementors. They'll be just as affected as their targets after all."

"Fair," Ginny conceded. "And most of us can cast a Patronus, I suppose."

"We'll run trials in The Gray this week," Tom decided. He would spread word via Professor McGonnagall in the morning so the Order could decide on their own plans.

The day before the raid, a bout of the flu went around Hogwarts, mostly affecting younger students and, strangely enough, students who remained unmarked by Tom. Those students who were still healthy headed down to Hogsmeade as always to hang out and shop and overall enjoy their time outside the castle grounds. If some of the students seemed jumpier than usual, well, maybe they were just stressed about their upcoming exams.

Tom and his girls wound up in Honeydukes, and he'd just pulled out a selection of the girls' favorites when an explosion shattered all the windows. As one, the students in the shop looked to Tom, who nodded. "Let's go."

Tom stepped out, a shield charm in place. Already, Death Eaters battled students in the streets, stray spells from them flying every which way. To Tom's quiet pride, his followers were doing well, but he had no doubt how poorly it would go if they encountered any of the stronger Death Eaters. Already, pulses from his followers' Marks burned in his mind. "Hermione, Ginny," he ordered. "Go left and save whom you can. Prioritize your own lives first, then those who belong to me second."

"But-" Hermione started, but Ginny flicked a nervous salute at him and pulled her friend away.

Tom went right, heading toward the Shrieking Shack. The air was cold, an obvious effect of the Dementors, though he still couldn't see the creatures. With a shaky breath, Tom wrapped the Cloak around himself. Rather than granting him invisibility though, he felt a cold power surge through his heart and into his veins, turning his very blood to ice. He had barely a moment to realize that, though he'd been right to fear Death, he'd been a fool to think he could overcome it. Even with its approval, even containing only a sliver of its power, his body was breaking down under the force of it.

Then a foreign consciousness slid into him and rather than breaking, he was being remade. It was an intoxicating, unimaginable agony. He felt he'd go mad if it didn't stop, but he hoped it never ended all the same.

Dementors swooped down, reaching for him. He spoke, the words coming through him from beyond the Veil.

"Oh Herpo. I granted you power enough to rule all. And yet, because of your greed, now look at you."

He reached out and pulled back the closest Dementor's hood and cupped the grim parody of a face that lay beneath in his hands. "Do you even remember your folly, I wonder? Or do you wander with nothing but your never ending hunger to sustain you?"

The Dementor drew a rattling breath and seemed to lean into the touch.

He sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter. It ends now, regardless." He breathed out, and it was as though time had been stopped for the skeletal being before him and was just now rushing to catch up. It disintegrated, and as it did, so too did all the others like it.

As they dispersed, thousands of pulses of glittering energy poured through him and into the realm beyond the Veil until just one remained. He took that one in his hands and guided it into the emerald instead.

He smiled gently at it. "Soon, little spark. You need only retain yourself a little longer." He reached to his throat and unclasped the Cloak.

The power retreated. Tom collapsed, which incidentally saved his life as a familiar flash of green passed over his head. He laid there on the dirt and giggled, scattered and stretched beyond human tolerance. A boot kicked him in the side and he coughed, staring at the man who'd kicked him. The man had a stick, and a sickly orange glow was gathering at the tip of it.

"Sectumsempra!" came a female voice.

The man doubled over, blood and intestines spilling from his gut. The feminine voice shouted the word again, this time tearing off the man's left arm, and again - the right arm - and a fourth time, removing the man's head. Tom laughed as blood sprayed over him and stared up at the sky, unable to think or move.

"Tom?"

A brunette inserted her face between him and the sky. Tom giggled. That made the girl's face do amusing things, so he giggled more, and that turned into outright laughing again until he heard, "Stupefy," and then he heard nothing at all.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione fretted. The attack on Hogsmeade was over. Some students had died, and some Death Eaters had died. Several werewolves, stronger than your average human but untransformed, were dead or dying. The Dementors had, of course, disintegrated. And Tom had just been lying on the ground laughing as though he'd gone insane. But he hadn't. He couldn't have.

"Humans aren't meant to bear the weight of a god's soul," Luna suggested seriously. They were in the Room of Requirement, and Luna sat with Tom's head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair.

Ginny swore and jumped to her feet. "What kind of deity does this? There's no way Tom knew this was going to happen. He'd never have agreed." She aimed her wand at his body. "Either it was just temporary or I'll go summon Death myself and murder them. Ennervate."

To their relief, Tom opened his eyes right away. They were bloodshot, but no longer empty as they had been. He groaned and rolled onto his side, curling in on himself. "Sweet Morganna's tits," he muttered. "That fucking hurts."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes, just peachy," Tom bit out. He closed his eyes again against the light and the pounding headache it was already giving him. "How did it go?" he asked.

"You destroyed all the Dementors," Luna offered.

Tom groaned as memories burned through his mind - not of destroying the Dementors, but of their creation. "I was wrong," he mumbled. "They weren't a result of ritual magic." He felt their curiosity, a thin cover of their concern. He licked his lips and tried to sit up but quickly realized that wasn't happening. Instead, he rolled back onto his back, flopping one arm over his eyes. He felt like he'd been punched in the side on top of everything else.

"I saw it," he said. "Herpo was Their Avatar and… He was immortal, but…" He frowned, trying to work through the pain of the foreign memories. "He had a son. And his son was… dying. Of something. So he used the knowledge he gained from being Death's Avatar to develop the theory of horcruxes. He tried it on himself first, to make sure it was possible to split his soul, and that… did something to him. He didn't account for his connection to Death and instead of just tearing off part of his soul, he tore that connection too. He forced his son to create a horcrux then, and it saved him, but he - Herpo, I mean - felt so… hungry. All the time. His horcrux had left a hole in him that wasn't quite the Veil but wasn't quite not, and he started… eating souls to try to fill it. He ended up eating both his son and his son's horcrux, and when he realized what he'd done, he broke even further, and turned into the first and, I guess, only Dementor. All the rest were just further manifestations of his hunger."

Hermione looked faintly horrified. Ginny wrinkled her nose. "He ate his son's soul? Ew."

Tom snorted. "Indeed."

Though his head was still pounding, he was beginning to feel human enough to sit up. As he did, he clutched his side. "What happened to me? Why aren't I in the hospital wing?"

All three girls glanced at each other uncomfortably. "You were laughing," Luna offered. "A Death Eater was about to kill you, and you weren't even trying to do anything about it, so Hermione…mmmm… dealt with him, you could say. You just kept laughing though. We were afraid you might not…" Her voice quivered, and Tom pulled her to him, realizing suddenly just how upset the blonde was.

Ginny nodded, her emotions just as chaotic as Luna's despite her efforts to look calm. "We tried to heal you, but Snape couldn't get anything to work on you. The potions weren't doing anything, and the spells just kind of fizzled. So we brought you here, since there wasn't much room in the hospital wing."

"How many of ours died?" he asked.

"Fay," Hermione said quietly. "She was the only one in our year. We lost three from the seventh years, two from the fifth years, and seven from the fourth years." She swallowed. "I told Severus to contact the Order to find out how the other battles went, but we haven't heard back from him yet."

"Thirteen," Tom murmured. He wondered if there was any Arithmetic significance to it, but that branch of Arithmancy was far too uncertain for him to bother with most of the time.

Just then, the door opened.

"Speak of the devil," Hermione said wryly. "What did you find out, Severus?"

The man nodded to her, then swiftly crossed the space between them to examine Tom. "Follow my wand," he ordered. "With just your eyes, Master." Once that was done, he continued with a series of orders that Tom recognized as relating to his hand-eye coordination and mental processing. At last the orders subsided, with a feeling of relief from Severus.

The man glanced at Hermione, then back to Tom. "The Order did well. Several members were injured, including Lupin," he said, managing to add only the barest hint of a sneer to the Marauder's name, "but there were no deaths. Miss Tonks was with them, and she seems to have taken her previous loss as motive to improve. She was most impressive, from what I hear."

"That's good to hear. I've been dueling with her, but I wasn't sure how she would fare with higher stakes. And in the Ministry?" Tom prompted.

The man shrugged. "A handful of Aurors died, but the Minister is still alive and uninjured. The Dark Lord was not anticipating any resistance there, and when he received a message that the Dementors had been destroyed, he immediately withdrew."

That was better than expected, honestly. Tom supposed Voldemort must not have been there very long before the Dementors disappeared. "Thank you, Severus." He considered things. The Gray had lost the most members, but in all fairness, they were still only children. Those losses would harden the remaining members, and they wouldn't object to harsher training now. He would have preferred to keep the number of deaths below the double digits, of course, but thirteen wasn't terrible. He didn't expect anyone to drop out over just that many.

"If I may," Severus asked hesitantly, "what exactly did you do?"

Oh. They hadn't told Severus about the plan to summon Death, had they? That must have been discomforting for the man. "I…" He glanced around. "Where are the artifacts?"

Luna produced the cloak and wand, while Ginny handed him the ring. At his look, Luna smiled. "We thought it best not to unite all three. Just in case." When he moved to take them, Luna held back the cloak. "Are you planning on putting it on?" she asked.

"Yes." Tom took in their expressions. Hermione looked fairly traumatized, while Ginny and Luna just seemed resigned. After one last searching look, Luna gave him the cloak.

This time, calling Death into him felt faster, for all that it still felt like he was being torn apart and put back together into something not quite human. So eager to experience my power again, Tom Riddle? he felt more than heard. He had no answer for that. Thankfully, They seemed more amused than annoyed.

Without a battle going on, Tom felt more in control. It was a bit like being high, he thought, though he'd only experimented once with recreational potions, or perhaps being very drunk. The kind of drunk when one believed themselves to be not that drunk though.

"Master?" he heard from far away, and he made himself focus.

"Severus," Tom managed.

"What did you just do?" his servant asked.

Tom cocked his head to the side. "What does it feel like for you?" he wondered. "The first time it was mostly just pain for me. I wasn't in control at all. It's much less of Their power this time though."

"I suspect the feeling varies," Severus said carefully. "It seems, overall, to intensify the general feel of our bond though."

"How long can you maintain that?" Hermione asked before Tom could investigate further.

Not much longer, as you are, Death informed him. That will change as your body becomes a better vessel. I cannot change it entirely at once or it will break.

Tom shuddered. "Just a bit right now, but it seems like that'll increase over time." Though he wanted to say he was bothered by the idea of breaking, he couldn't help a sense of excitement. This kind of power could easily become an addiction if he wasn't careful. If it hadn't already, he acknowledged. It was all he could do not to ask Death to add more power now as it was.

What stayed his hand, or mind as the case may be, was the desire to destroy Voldemort himself. He wouldn't let anyone, not even a deity, take that from him.

"Is that so," he found himself saying, more ice sliding into him and taking over. His bonded stiffened, no doubt feeling the difference. "I look forward to watching you struggle, Tom Riddle."

"Death?" Luna asked. Even she seemed on edge, though less so than the others.

Tom's mouth smiled, even as he tried to regain control over his body. "That is one name for me, Miss Lovegood."

Severus paled. "Why have you decided to speak to us?" he asked.

"Are you not bound to my Avatar?" Tom felt the ice sliding into the bonds now, and he saw the moment the first hints of Death's power touched his bonded. The girls fell to their knees, shuddering. Only Severus managed to remain standing, but it was a close thing.

Then the power retreated. "Time is up, for now. I do not recommend summoning me for another week at least if it is not necessary." A sense of a smile reached Tom. You needn't fear me so, my Avatar. I will use you and yours, but I will not harm any of you for so long as you are mine. This time the power didn't leave him entirely. Tom could still feel it there, resting at the edges of his heart.

Severus collapsed.

Tom grimaced. "I'm sorry, Severus. I should have warned you."

Both Luna and Ginny looked dazed, and Tom got an idea of what he'd been like after his first encounter. He glanced to Hermione and raised an eyebrow. Her face was flushed. "That's quite something, isn't it," she asked with feigned casualness. "I understand somewhat how you felt earlier." Then she frowned. "That doesn't mean I forgive you though! You really scared me."

"Oh, right. Luna said you took someone apart."

Hermione bit her lip, and now she looked embarrassed. "That's one way of putting it," she hedged.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "She cut someone about to kill you into literal pieces."

"Oh. Well done, Hermione," he said with genuine pride.

The brunette scowled at him. "Of course you'd think that." She felt pleased all the same though.

"In any event," Tom said, changing the subject, "I'd like to perform the ritual to fix Astoria next weekend so we can take care of Voldemort before exams. Are you ready, Hermione? I would prefer to take this week to look over your preparations."

"Oh!" Hermione started, then beamed. "Yes, of course! I'll get everything to you in the morning."

Tom spent the rest of the week reading Hermione's copious notes disguised as various texts, depending on the class. (Except Defense, where Severus glanced at the book, rolled his eyes, and told him to "go study advanced magic elsewhere so he could teach sixth year magic in peace.")

For the most part, Hermione had done a good job. He agreed with her conclusions, and he was relatively certain that the ritual as she'd designed it would cure or, at the least, significantly improve Astoria's condition. He took Hermione, Astoria, and Daphne aside Friday evening to go over the ritual with his corrections.

"You've left the circle open, I assume to both prevent the curse from being passed down to future generations and to use free energy as a power source?" Tom checked.

Hermione nodded. "I don't want anyone else to go through with this either, and I don't think any of us could power that level of change on our own."

Tom nodded, then crossed that out and rewrote it. "You haven't learned yet how to incorporate non-real artifacts into rituals." He redrew the circle, closed this time, with only slight alterations to the runes. "Her sister, Draco, Astoria herself, and the two of us together would work better."

"Me?" Both Draco and Hermione asked with matching frowns.

Tom sighed. "You're invested in her future, Draco. That emotional investment, along with Daphne's, will provide a stronger and more nuanced intention than simply written instructions. On the other hand, Hermione, you've spent hours working on this. That time investment provides a not-insignificant boost to the ritual's power. See these lines?" he asked, pointing to some of the rune strings he'd crossed out.

Hermione nodded. "We were taught that those are like… headers and enders that just… go in rituals. Professor Babbling said she wouldn't be explaining their purpose until seventh year though."

"They're placed there to sort of tell the universe specifics about the original ritual. You actually did well parsing out the parts that were specific to other rituals, but since you're the primary developer for this ritual, they're unnecessary so long as you take part directly. For now, that's enough, though I will help you develop your own bracketing runes if you ever decide to make more commercially available rituals." He smiled at her dubious expression. "Between us, we will bring back ritual magic as a household magic, and there will be all manner of need for new rituals."

"Which I won't have time to be creating, since I'll be busy helping you design a brand new government." Hermione caught Daphne's wide-eyed look and snorted. "What? Did you really think we could keep working with the one we have?"

Daphne flushed at the casual dismissal in Hermione's voice. "Because doing away with an entire government is such an easy task," she scoffed.

Tom hummed thoughtfully, causing both girls' attention to switch to him. "Both fair arguments, and both irrelevant at the moment. Hermione, you are one of the most important people in the world to me, but that hardly makes you so indispensable that I would have you working non-stop. You will have time in the future, even during the busiest portions of our conquest. If you decide to design rituals, you are welcome to. Should you decide against it, that is equally fine. For now, I simply want to make sure this ritual works perfectly, and for that, we need to finish working through it together."

AN: Tom considers the number 13…. Or rather, I did the math, realized I'd hit upon 13 totally by accident, and wondered if it was significant XD

AN Pt2: It's been a while. A year? Maybe? Anyway, I'm going through a divorce now, which is all manner of…. fun. Yeah. That's a word for it. In any event, I want to finish this story, so that's what's going to happen. There's a lot that I feel like I didn't do well enough, or even well at all, but there's little worse than an unfinished story, yes? So here goes. The beginning of the end. And yeah, I've decided that in my world, runic rituals basically are like web design.