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Eye of the Storm

Chapter Nine

It was an apparently ordinary day when Harry received the summons to the headmaster's office. Harry received the invitation with open curiosity: while he and Dumbledore had continued to meet occasionally to talk about Voldemort, these meetings had mostly been in the nature of informal chats, taking place whenever Harry felt like dropping by his office. An official summons to Dumbledore's office was another thing indeed. Wondering if Voldemort had decided to make his move at last, Harry obediently made his way past the gargoyle statue and up the stairs to the headmaster's office. He knocked on the door, and Dumbledore's familiar voice told him to come in.

"Hello," Harry remarked, as he stepped inside. Dumbledore was standing near his desk, and in the middle of putting on a colourful travelling cloak. "Going somewhere, then?"

"I have just received an urgent missive from the Minister for Magic," Dumbledore said gravely, showing Harry an official-looking letter. "At first glance it appears genuine, but a closer examination reveals some discrepancies."

"You think it's a distraction," Harry concluded.

"If it truly is from the Minister, then I cannot afford to ignore it," said Dumbledore. "However, if it is indeed an attempted distraction, as I suspect, you will need to be in place to deal with Voldemort while I am gone." He peered at Harry over the top of his spectacles. "Are you quite sure that you can handle him, dear boy?"

Harry smiled easily, and leaned against Dumbledore's desk.

"Positive. There's just the one Horcrux left to finish off, which I can do easily enough, once I'm face-to-face with Riddle, and then it's only a matter of severing his connection with Quirrell. Trust me, this is hardly the most difficult thing I've done."

"Then I leave the matter in your capable hands," Dumbledore acquiesced. "Do be careful, Doctor. Voldemort may be diminished, but he is no less dangerous for that."

"Oh, believe me, I know," Harry agreed, thinking back to when he'd dealt with the other Horcruxes. They may have only contained slivers of Voldemort's consciousness, but they had been nasty, all the same. "He's desperate, and that only makes him a bigger threat."

"I am glad to see that you understand," said Dumbledore. He stood by the fireplace, a jar of Floo powder in his hand. "In that case, I will only wish you luck, and express the hope that all goes well." Dumbledore threw a pinch of the powder into the fire, and it roared, turning a brilliant emerald green.

"Minister for Magic's office." Dumbledore stepped into it and was gone. Harry stood for a moment, staring into the emerald flames. Then he turned, and faced the wall of portraits.

"Find Quirrell," he instructed them. "If he's not where he's supposed to be, if he's anywhere near the forbidden corridor on the third floor, then I want to know."

Several portraits immediately vanished from their frames, but one of the previous headmasters sneered at Harry.

"And why should we take orders from a brat like you?"

Harry only smiled pleasantly back, his eyes full of steel.

"Would you prefer that Voldemort gained corporeal form and the means of immortality, and rose again to conquer the wizarding world? Because if I don't stop him, that's what's going to happen."

The portrait huffed, and fell silent. A moment later one of the missing portraits reappeared.

"He's left his office," she reported. She sounded out of breath, as though she'd been running. "It looks like he's heading for the third-floor corridor."

"Thank you," said Harry. "You've been of considerable help." He headed for the door.

"Good luck!" cried one of the portraits, while someone else called out, "What are you going to do? Do you have a plan?"

"I'm getting the TARDIS," Harry said, glancing back at the wall of portraits, most of whom were watching him in interest and concern, "and then I'm ending things once and for all."

He left the stairs and the gargoyle behind at a dead run. Several people called out to him as he passed, wanting to know where he was going in such a hurry, but he ignored all of them.

"Harry!" On his way past the library Hermione exited just in time to see him go past. She run to keep up with him. "Where are you going?"

"Got to stop Voldemort regaining his body!" Harry yelled over his shoulder, putting on a burst of speed. Hermione was left behind, unable to keep up. "Tell you all about it later!"

"Harry!" Hermione cried in annoyance and alarm, but Harry was already gone.

It seemed to take forever to reach the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the TARDIS waited, even though Harry's Time Lord senses told him that it had only been about eight minutes or so. He slammed through the TARDIS doors, and input the co-ordinates he needed, and set the TARDIS travelling through the Time Vortex. Then he looked down at himself. He was still wearing his school robes, and somehow, they didn't seem quite dramatic enough for what was about to take place.

"Good thing I've got just enough time to change," Harry said aloud, and grabbed for the clothes folded over the nearest railing. "Wouldn't do to be badly-dressed, would it? And while I'm at it, I'd better dig out that last Horcrux. Where did I put it, again?"

When Harry stepped out of the TARDIS, into the room where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden, he found that Quirrell was already there.

"Hello," said Harry, walking forward with his hands in his pockets. "Fancy meeting you here."

Quirrell smiled, and his face didn't twitch at all.

"I wondered whether I'd be seeing you here, Potter," he said calmly. Harry shrugged, and stopped where he was.

"Well, you know," said Harry, "I'm pretty good at finding trouble. And you, Professor, are most definitely trouble, am I right?"

Quirrell laughed. It was quite unlike his usual quivering laugh, being sharper and colder.

"That's not an inaccurate description," he said, and snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. "I don't know what that contraption of yours is, boy, but you should have stayed away."

"When I have a date with destiny?" Harry quipped. "That's not like me at all."

Quirrell laughed again.

"A date with destiny… yes, I suppose it is. After all these years, we come full circle, and what was started will finally be finished."

Quirrell started to turn away, but Harry spoke.

"You let the troll in on Halloween, as a distraction, while you went after the Philosopher's Stone."

Quirrell turned back at Harry's words, his sharp eyes resting on Harry with disquieting malice.

"So you worked that out, did you? You're too nosy to live, Potter. Yes, I let the troll in. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off – and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

And Quirrell turned away a second time, to examine the ornate mirror behind him.

Harry knew what it was: Dumbledore had explained how the Mirror of Erised worked when he and Harry were discussing what to do about Voldemort at the start of the school year, and had shared with Harry the trick of how to obtain the Stone within. Only one who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, could remove it from the Mirror. Harry had to admit that it was an ingenious piece of enchantment. Quirrell had no hope of obtaining the Stone.

"You won't get it, you know," Harry remarked idly. His hands were still in his pockets, and one of them was firmly clutching his wand. "Evanesco." Quirrell's conjured ropes vanished, as though they were no more substantial than air. Harry let go of his wand, and felt around until he could feel his sonic screwdriver. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Dumbledore's smarter than you think. You've reached the end of the line, Voldemort."

Quirrell snarled, and turned towards Harry, but a high, wispy voice spoke.

"Let me speak to the boy… face to face…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell pleaded.

"I have strength enough… for this…" the voice commanded. As Harry watched, Quirrell began to unwrap his turban. The turban fell away, leaving Quirrell's head looking strangely small without it. Quirrell turned slowly on the spot, until the back of his head was facing Harry.

There, where there should have been the smooth slope of Quirrell's bald head, was instead a face, white and terrible, with red glaring eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. Harry gazed calmly into those dreadful red eyes, allowing the certainty and strength he had inherited from the previous Doctor to show in his own. For a moment he looked every inch a Time Lord, ancient and terrible. Green eyes met red, and there was a silent battle of wills, both parties refusing to give into the other.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered. "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…"

"More fool they," said Harry darkly. He smiled, and it was not a nice smile. It was rage and fury and cold calculation, and any sane person would have shrank back beneath it. "Look at you, the great Lord Voldemort. The wizarding world's bogeyman. You're nothing more than a parasite, living off others."

"I will regain my greatness…" said Voldemort. Harry threw back his head and laughed sharply.

"Greatness, is that what you call it?" Harry shook his head in disgust. "You were always a parasite, whether you had a body or not. Living off the hopes and dreams of others, destroying them in your quest to achieve your own… you're a real piece of work. But this ends. Here. Today."

Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled out the last Horcrux – the tiara – the one last soul anchor he had yet to destroy. The cursed object called to him, tried to entice him into doing its will, but Harry's telepathic abilities protected him from such influences. Voldemort's red eyes widened at the sight of the tiara, in incredulity and sudden alarm.

"No… it cannot be…"

"What, you thought you were the only one who knew their way around the castle?" Harry inquired, raising his eyebrows. "Or is it the fact that I know about your Horcruxes, hmm?"

"Give it to me!" Voldemort ordered. "Quirrell! Take it from him!"

"I don't think so." Still smiling, Harry changed the setting of the sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the tiara. The tiara started to vibrate, and a ghostly wail began, turning into an eerie scream as Voldemort's final Horcrux was destroyed.

Quirrell lurched suddenly, and stopped where he was, swaying unsteadily. He slowly sank to his knees, his expression uncomprehending. A moment later he too began to scream, as the back of his head bubbled and seethed. Harry pointed the sonic screwdriver in his direction, and the device buzzed.

Quirrell's screams cut off at the same moment as the back of his head stopped bubbling. He flopped to the floor, where he lay perfectly still, his eyes blank and unseeing. There was silence.

Harry tucked his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, and looked down at the dead man. Voldemort was dead and gone, his last anchor to this plane of existence finally removed. Harry felt as though a heavy burden had been removed from his shoulders, leaving him feeling strangely free.

His destiny as Harry Potter was complete. Only his future as the Doctor lay ahead of him.

The TARDIS waited for him in the middle of the room, but instead of walking towards it, Harry turned, unable to resist the promptings of his own curiosity, and looked into the depths of the Mirror of Erised.

He saw himself in the mirror, taller and older, surrounded by a sea of familiar faces, some of which he knew only from memory. Beside him, a hand resting on Harry's shoulder, stood the previous Doctor, a smile of warm approval and affection on his face, while Harry was smiling, easy and content, as though he hadn't a care in the world. Next to the previous Doctor stood a woman with Harry's eyes and a man with Harry's hair, both of them looking proud, while on Harry's other side Hermione clung to his arm with a look of indulgent fondness.

For a long moment Harry stated into the mirror, his heart aching with a longing too great to articulate; and then he turned, away from the Mirror's compelling vision of happiness and peace. He strode away from it without another look, either at Quirrell's body or the Mirror's tempting vision.

A moment later the TARDIS quietly de-materialised, leaving Quirrell and the Mirror alone in the room.

Voldemort was vanquished. And Harry Potter was no longer needed.

"So Voldemort is gone forever?" Hermione breathed, her eyes wide, as Harry finished relating what had happened. The two of them were sitting in the alcove in the library, and Harry was munching on a bag of sweets despite Hermione's disapproval. Harry had already filled Dumbledore in, and now he was explaining the earlier events to Hermione.

"Yep," Harry agreed happily. "Dear old Voldie's shuffled off this mortal coil, and everything is fine and dandy. Which means that I can leave the wizarding world behind without worrying about what he's up to."

"What?" Hermione sat bolt upright. "You're leaving?" she squeaked, her expression somewhere between dismayed and furious. Harry gave her a crooked smile.

"I was here for one reason and one reason only, Hermione: to destroy Voldemort. Oh, I enjoyed learning about the world my parents came from, but that was just a bonus, really. But now my destiny as Harry Potter has been fulfilled, my last tie to this life severed, and there's only the life of the Doctor left before me. As fun as Hogwarts is, it's a distraction from my responsibilities. Besides, I find school dreadfully dull, to be honest. I mean, turning matches into needles, really? Could they make magic any more boring?"

Hermione gave a sob.

"W-will I ever see you again?"

"Of course you will!" Harry assured her. "Here!" He tossed her the object he'd bought the last time he'd been away from Hogwarts. "Bought it for you, last time I popped into the future."

Hermione looked at the phone in her hands in some bewilderment.

"What…" she began, turning it over in her hands.

"It's a mobile phone," Harry explained, "specially modified to work around magic, and synched to my time stream. Should be able to reach me anywhere in the universe, anytime you want to – oof!" Harry's words were cut off as Hermione flung herself at him. He hugged her back without hesitation.

"What are you crying for?" he asked her, smiling fondly. "Just because I'm leaving the wizarding world doesn't mean I'm leaving you, Hermione. Besides, the school year doesn't end for another week or so yet, and I'll stay at least that long – might as well, since I've already spent so much time here. So cheer up, alright? It's not the end of the world."

Hermione just sniffled damply into Harry's neck.

"Look, you've got the phone," Harry told her. "You can call me anytime you like, and if you're ever in trouble, just ring me and I'll be there, I promise." Harry patted her on the back. "That's not so very bad, is it?"

"I'll miss you," Hermione hiccupped, her face streaked with tears as she finally stepped back from Harry. He smiled affectionately at her.

"And I'll miss you, too," he told her honestly. "But the Doctor – it's not just a name, it's a responsibility. I can't ever run away from it. The universe needs me."

Hermione pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose, still looking miserable.

"I should have known you have a saving-people thing," she sighed.

"Well, to be fair, it's sort of my job," Harry told her. "The universe would be in trouble without me around to save it."

Hermione just sniffed suspiciously.

"Are you sure you don't simply cause all that trouble yourself?" she asked. Harry laughed.

"Well, maybe a little of it," he admitted. "Now please cheer up, Hermione. I know it's not the same as going to school together, but I'll still be in your life, I swear."

"You had better be, Harry Potter," Hermione said sternly. She looked at the phone in her hands again, and put it into her pocket. "What's your phone number?"

"It's programmed into the phone," Harry told her, but rattled it off all the same. Hermione pulled out a small notebook and a pen and carefully wrote the number down. "There we go," said Harry.

Hermione gave Harry an uncertain look.

"You'll really keep in touch?" she asked.

"Cross my hearts and hope to regenerate," he told her.

"Then I suppose that it's okay," Hermione allowed reluctantly.

"There's the spirit!" Harry said, and offered her his bag of sweets. "Sherbet lemon?"

Hermione shook her head primly, and Harry shrugged.

"Ah, well. More for me."

"You'll rot your teeth," Hermione rebuked, as Harry ate a handful of sherbet lemons all at once.

"Eh, I'll grow more," Harry said dismissively. He kept a carefully innocent face as Hermione tried to work out if he was lying. His lips twitched, however, and Hermione made an exasperated face and hit him in the arm.

"That's not funny, Harry!" she exclaimed indignantly, and Harry started laughing.

He was still laughing as Madam Pince chased them out of the library for being too loud and eating sweets.

"Never change, Hermione," he told his friend.

The evening before the end-of-year feast found Harry in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was enjoying a glass of brandy (Harry was not, despite his protests), while Harry set opposite him, lounging in his chair.

"You are certain that you do not wish to return for another year?" Dumbledore asked. Harry made a face.

"Oh, I'm sure," he replied. "I've done what I needed to do here, and I'm not really the sort who sticks around for long periods of time."

"I've noticed," Dumbledore said, a little dryly, but he was smiling. "You are absolutely sure? You have seemed to enjoy your schooling here, and I'm sure that Miss Granger would benefit from your continued presence."

"Nah," said Harry, sitting back in his chair. "I've stuck around long enough. Bit sorry I'll never get the chance to give Snape an apoplexy, though."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Ah, poor Severus. You've been driving him to distraction, it seems."

"Serves him right for trying to read my mind," Harry said bluntly. "Not to mention everything else he does. He's a bigoted, nasty git, and I won't be sorry to leave him behind."

"Severus has his reasons," said Dumbledore.

"Everyone has their reasons to be a nasty person," responded Harry. "Some people manage to rise above them and go on to be nice people, all the same. Doubt it's going to happen to Snape, this late in life. But then, I've been wrong before."

Dumbledore only sighed.

"It isn't my place to explain Severus' behaviour," he said, "but I assure you, he is to be pitied rather than condemned."

Harry sat up, and pointed an accusing finger at Dumbledore.

"That's even worse," he said severely. "Don't pity him, not if you respect him as much as you claim to. Pity is just another way of feeling superior to others. Now, compassion, that's another thing, but that's not what you meant, is it?"

Dumbledore looked slightly sprung, and a little rueful. He chuckled wryly.

"I suppose not."

"He's a powerful wizard and a dangerous man, no matter what his past," Harry said seriously, "and he wields a powerful grudge. Don't underestimate him, and don't diminish his strength by assuming that his emotions cripple him."

There was a short silence.

"You know something of the truth, then," said Dumbledore. Harry shrugged.

"It all comes out, eventually. Oh, not for a good many years, but the next generation will start to ask questions, and those questions get somewhere after a while."

"Did you play a role in that?" Dumbledore inquired knowingly. Harry shrugged again.

"Only a small one."

There was a comfortable silence, as Dumbledore sipped at his brandy, and Harry examined the trinkets on his desk.

"What do you intend to do now?" Dumbledore asked finally. Harry leaned back in his chair, and ruffled his hair.

"Well, there's a jail-break I need to organise," he said thoughtfully, a mischievous twinkle lurking in his eyes. "Which reminds me, there's something you need to know about Peter Pettigrew…"

Harry disappeared quietly on the last day of term, while everyone else was at the end-of-year feast. He walked sedately down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the TARDIS was waiting for him, blue and boxy and ever-so-wonderful. Harry patted her exterior fondly, and felt an answering pulse of affection from the TARDIS.

It had been an interesting school year, he reflected. He'd learnt a great deal – not necessarily what the professors were trying to teach, mind – gained a friend of approximately his own developmental age, and defeated Voldemort, leaving him free to go anywhere he chose without Harry Potter's destiny hanging over him. He'd leave Harry Potter behind, Harry thought, let the name slowly gather dust, eventually to be forgotten as a footnote in history, while the name of the Doctor continued to resonate amongst the stars.

It wasn't Harry's choice, entirely, but he was content with it, all the same. Whatever he might have lost when he became the Doctor, in exchange he had the universe. It seemed a fair enough trade.

"Where to next, old girl?" Harry murmured, and walked into the TARDIS, shutting the doors behind him.

A quiet vworp vworp started up, before slowly fading, leaving the edge of the Forbidden Forest leafy and green, and without a hint of blue.

FIN