A/N: Yo. I'm here to finish this shit I started *cackles* Not quite 5k words… or even half of it but… hehe. I realized this thing is, like, 1/3 plot and 2/3 gratification. Also, I had a hard time keeping track of things so some info might be screwed up and I beg you to ignore it.

And oh look, this is the last chapter I feel kind of emotional.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Harry

Tom

"Speaking"

"Spells"

::Parseltongue::

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

It was strange, feeling this sense of…freedom. He had spent many years locked up, unable to be himself. Burdened by fear, rage, and the madness that burned deep within.

And in this singular, quiet moment where even Tommy remained still and silent, Harry felt out of his depth.

Padfoot was asleep, curled up in a dark corner of the room. The manor was silent, Voldemort gone to lead his followers in the Ministry. How they managed to get a hold of that many time-turners, Harry wasn't sure—and that opened up quite a few doors for his excitable urges—but it was useful. At this moment, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are being repaired at the same time as Voldemort and his Corpse Munchers are attacking the Ministry though apparently it was already done.

Wow. That gave him a headache.

Harry sighed, flopping down on the carpeted floor.

It was odd, the feeling of… hollowness. Maybe it was just sinking in that he was finally free? That his relatives were dead, that the Order was being cut down, that the Wizarding World is being brought down to its knees.

No. Maybe it was longing.

A longing to see them all suffer as he did, feel the loss that he did, to let them see how mad and ugly and beautiful this world is.

Maybe it was just nothing. He wasn't the sanest bloke out there.

Harry?

Hmm?

It's time.

Everything stilled.

A grin stretched over his lips and he jumped up in excitement.

"They're all going down."

He ignored the feeling of foreboding that tickled his senses.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

He was still grinning as he approached the large doors, humming under his breath. He could hear the noise of hundreds of students and excitement filled him. Just beyond that laid their last goal. Albus Dumbledore. And then the Wizarding World would bow down as Vodlemort's feet like the sheep that they are.

Harry caressed the stone door, laughing at the wards erected over it, Hogwarts' ancient magic holding it together and preventing him from entering. She can't keep him out of the grounds, of course, because he's still a student.

Too bad he'd already prepared for that. It was so easy.

Slicing his thumb, he carefully drew Hagalaz with his blood, finishing the runic chain he spent weeks engraving in every corner of Hogwarts. Quickly casting a drying charm on the drawn rune to prevent it from being deformed by dripping blood, Harry took a deep breath.

Voldemort and his most loyal were just outside the wards, waiting for him to finish.

And then with a flick of his wand, the wards burned.

He threw open the stone doors with a cackle, preparing himself from any attack. Shocked and frightened eyes of the students greeted him, the burning of the wards a near physical thing they all felt.

"Hullo all!" Harry greeted loudly, smile more than a bit unhinged. He could see what was left of the Order near the staff table, wands at the ready. He couldn't take them all, no, Harry wasn't that powerful or skilled.

Soon enough, Voldemort and his entourage made a dramatic entrance, black smoke engulfing their flying forms. It was impossible to mistake the high-pitched, ugly laugh that echoed through the silent hall.

"Professors," Dumbledore's eerily calm and yet alarmed voice called attention. "Kindly escort the students out."

"I don't think so, Albus," Voldemort responded, walking towards the front as soon as he landed.

"Voldemort," was the headmaster's venomous reply.

Then everything descended into chaos as the fearful children tried to escape. The Death Munchers around him blocked the exits, showing no discrimination as to how they would prevent the children's escape. Harry joined in, leaving Voldemort and Dumbledore to their baiting.

Soon, pain filled screams joined the noise, as did the delightful laughs of the more sadistic Munchers—needless to say, both Harry and Bellatrix were the loudest. It was surprising to see that no one is using the Killing Curse yet.

The more level-headed professors began gathering as much students as they could, giving them hastily made portkeys and activating them.

Harry narrowed his eyes at this. "Lestrange!" Both Lestrange brothers turned to look at him and he pointed at Professor Flitwick who had just given a group of three students a portkey. Rabastan nodded and swiftly made his way out of the hall. Rodolphus sent a spell just before the group disappeared, knocking off Professor Flitwick with the explosion it created.

It would take a few minutes to erect the necessary wards to prevent escape but now that it had come to others' attention, some of the Corpse Munchers kept an eye out on congregated groups.

Congregated. I'm glad to see your vocabulary increasing, Harry.

Harry wrinkled his nose. Shut up Tommy.

Yes, yes.

"HARRY!"

He whipped around, turning to where the shout of his name came from. He adjusted his balance just in time as a bushy brown haired missile landed on him.

Hermione Granger.

He almost forgot about his supposed best friends.

"We need to get you out of here," She said this all in one breath, eyes darting from left and right. It was ridiculous—no Death Nipper would dare fire a spell near him. He liked explosive retributions after all. "The staff entrance has been protected against anyone with the Dark Mark."

Harry allowed her to tug him along, weaving through the crowd. Some of the students finally remembered they could use magic and was starting to fight back, the older ones protecting the first years and directing them out of harm's way.

"Where's Ron?" He finally asked as they stopped, a Protego shielding them from stray spells.

When Hermione faced him, her face was twisted in some mixture of emotion Harry can't recognize. Then she blinked and looked around frantically. Her eyes stopped somewhere in the middle of the Great Hall.

"He's there somewhere," Her voice was trembling now, all courage drowned as she looked around, dragging him with her. "He was just following me! Ron!"

They were once again in the thicker parts of the crowd, side stepping fallen and bleeding bodies. Hermione's sight never strayed down, afraid of looking at glassy, vacant eyes, small bodies missing limbs, children crying in pain as they tried to—

Ron. She needed to find Ron. Harry was there, helpful in defense and not crazy. Some part of her registered this but she had to keep all emotions in check. Later, maybe, she'd mourn for every single life stolen, but for now she had to keep her head straight and help students to flee.

But her worry for Ron was at the forefront of her mind.

"Ron!" Her eyes darted around the sea of bodies and lights—vaguely, she saw the duel happening between Dumbledore and Voldemort—in hopes of a glimpse of red. She was pulled out of the way as a sickly yellow curse flew in her direction.

"Hermione!" It was Ron, his face flushed and an arm limp. "Thank Merlin you're okay! The D.A. are helping the other students escape. Neville's down."

"What—"

She was cut off as the redhead crumpled to the ground.

Harry watched in amusement, having finally been fed-up with their annoying tendencies. Hermione dove down, almost slipping on the puddle of blood coming from the convulsing body a few inches away from them. And—oh, was that Draco Malfoy? Lucius is going to be so pissed. Harry sent an episkey just so he can say he did something.

How kind of you.

Harry twitched but didn't react any more.

His attention went back down to Hermione, a Protego Tholus keeping spells away. She was crying now, body curled over the still and dead figure of Ron Weasley. An emotion stirred at his gut. Guilt? No, he had never felt guilty before. Regret? What did he have to regret? Maybe it was pity. Pity for the collateral damage. Ron and Hermione had never been in his List.

Whatever it was—whatever it is, it felt unfamiliar—made Harry raise his wand, "Avada Kedavra."

He let the shield fall, never noticing the green light headed his way.

He did, however, hear his name.

Harry!

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

His movement faltered, red eyes widening as he watched the green light—the Killing Curse that came from his own wand—rush through the short distance between him and Harry.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

"Harry!"

It wasn't him who shouted though. Dumbledore did, the two most powerful wizards in the room halting in their duel.

…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…

And when Harry—his Harry—crumpled to the ground, Voldemort was there.

…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

Everything was silent, Voldemort couldn't hear anything beyond his pulse. And when he touched Harry, he still couldn't feel anything but his own pulse. He brushed a hand on the scar on his Harry's forehead, his mark. Differently colored eyes stared at him blankly and he was filled with rage.

…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…

He looked up to the horrified stares and snarled.

They will all die.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

When Harry came to, he was blinded by white.

And then he realized he was very naked and that his head ached.

He made a surprised sound as he was suddenly clothed, head whipping around hall that steadily shrank.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed and his surroundings became darker and smaller until he stood in the middle of the hallway in the Riddle Manor.

"Hello?" Harry tried again, trying not to be weirded out by what is happening. "Mama Bella? Mama Nagi? Voldy?"

Tommy?

None. No answer. He tried to open one of the doors but found it locked. Getting frustrated, Harry tried every door in the hallway, finding them all locked again. He trudged the path to the staircase, his surroundings growing darker and darker the further he walked.

He was going to head to the east wing where his room was located only to hear a creak. He turned his head, listening attentively to find out where it came from, but the sound didn't repeat itself. He turned back on his set path only to shrug and change his mind.

"If I were trying to find anyone, they won't be in my room."

Harry nodded at his logic and walked along the hallway leading to the west wing, trying to open doors as he went.

Then he came to a stop at the door leading to Voldemort's study. It was innocuous, unassuming and looked a lot like any other door in the manor. Turning the doorknob, expecting it to be locked just like the other rooms, Harry was surprised it opened.

He stepped in. It was very, very dark but no one was there.

The door behind him clicked shut and he jumped.

"Harry."

The voice was very, very familiar and the face that greeted him was only slightly familiar from disjointed memories.

"Tommy," Harry managed to say, taking a step closer to his guardian/mentor/friend.

Tommy frowned, "I really wish you came up with a better name than that."

"But you're Tommy," Harry grinned. "You're my Tommy."

"Of course I am," Tommy sighed, his face—managing to be half Voldemort, half Tom Riddle—twisted into a fond grimace. "Brat."

Harry continued smiling at the man before it was wiped away into narrowed eyes. "Why am I here?"

"Oh, getting to the point already," Tommy strode over to Voldemort's chair and signaled him to sit on his own chair. Harry did. Sit, that is, on the floor like he preferred to. "To put it simply, you died."

Harry blinked. "I…died?"

"Yes," Tommy sipped at his tea—wait, how did Tommy get a cup of tea? "Dumbledore—spritely old man that he is—managed to dodge Voldemort's Killing Curse."

"And I happened to be in its way," Harry finished with a frown. At Tommy's nod, Harry continued. "What happens now?"

"Well, you wake up of course."

"What?" Harry blinks. "Come again?"

Tommy rolled his eyes, "You wake up. Voldemort is wreaking havoc by now, someone should stop him before he manages to destroy Isles."

"…okay." Harry trailed off. "And how do I do that?"

"Just say goodbye to me." Tommy said with a smirk.

Harry stared at the man, confused.

"Come on Harry," Tommy encouraged, voice uncharacteristically soft. "Just say it. Don't you want to be with Voldemort?"

Maybe it was the way Tommy said it, or the way Harry felt the tension in the air, or just plain impulse. Harry jumped up and engulfed the man in a hug.

"Goodbye, Tommy."

And it really felt like a goodbye.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Harry gasped awake, tears falling from his eyes as he felt an enormous sense of loss.

Tommy?

There was no answer. No presence of another consciousness. No Tommy.

"Tommy?" Harry curled into himself, unaware of anything but the feeling of being broken. "Tommy? Where—wherewherewhereareyou—"

He didn't know that Voldemort was holding him. Didn't know that every single living being in Hogwarts was dead but for the being that destroyed it.

Didn't know that Voldemort clutched him close, killed every single one of them for him.

And Voldemort stared into dazed, lost green eyes, shock and surprise consumed by relief and rage.

The world will burn for him.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

End.

For real, this time.

You know, I actually cried while writing this. And first time finishing a multi-chaptered fic orayt.

Thank you everyone who stuck through this crazy-stick-up-her-arse author who placed this story in a hiatus only to update and finish it with one chapter.

Oh and, shameless self-advertisment here. Go check out my other fanfics.

Sineluce Velius-Tristitia signing out.