But a Distant Past

PG13

Gen - Possible Something later... maybe.

Can you guess the Xover Fandom?

The end isn't at Hogwarts. "Remember wizard my words, an equal will be born, another to help balance the scale you have tipped with your folly." And with that the demon lifted the locket and swallowed it.

But a Distant Past

The world spun around the two, how they had gotten there was anyone's guess but the magic that had surrounded them somehow came alive, a spark of something that was like an ember ignited the magic… what had been a vicious and bloody battle paused for a moment in time.

Two figures, injured, and feral, never felt the shift in time open a gate to a world other than their own. Their fates weren't in their hands, it was a gamble where they would end but an end they met… atop damp grass.

Harry woke with a suddenness it left him woozy. For the briefest of moments he was confused about his very own existence but that lasted for a fraction of a second before a scream tore through him as his very essence – his magic – slammed into him.

Pain, such unimaginable pain…

A scream of a different pitch harmonized with his own but in the end it was only him that whimpered and cried out, the other wizard, the Dark Lord a yard away simply gritted his teeth, unable to cry even if he could. "Potter…"

"Tom…" Harry tasted blood; his throat hurt just managing to say the bastard's name. He needed to get up, he needed to kill; there was this insistent poke at his mind was ordering him to get rid of the vile and disgusting creature that stunk of death and deception. His legs, weak, felt as if millions of tiny pins were poking at him, his head was like a weight on his shoulder that just wouldn't lift and while his mind was clear for the first time in ages he couldn't seem to focus on how to move his limbs. "I would kill you but I can't move."

There was silence for a moment, "Same here Potter."

"What did you do?" he tested his arms… nothing.

"Nothing, I wouldn't jeopardize your death with such a stupid stunt."

"That's comforting, my scar doesn't hurt."

"Like I care," Voldemort snapped, "When I get up…"

"We'll have tea and ponder the universe, I get it."

"Sarcasm does not suit you Potter." Voldemort snarled as he managed to move a leg and his fingers twitched, if only he could get to his wand. A simple Killing Curse would rid himself of this pest.

Minutes ticked by and the clouds above darkened, filling the patches of space until not even a star shone and true night embraced them. Harry had long gotten over his fear of the dark, he held no fear for death, and he wasn't quite sure what scared him nowadays. Seeing too much, doing too much, took its toll on him and he was physically tired and mentally exhausted. A part of him, a small part, just wanted to give up and plead for death so he could finally be at rest – but he couldn't rest. He had to deal with the Dark Lord of his generation and it wasn't because of the bloody prophecy, it wasn't because everyone told him that he, a mere seventeen year old had to go against a man half a century older than him, he fought day in and day out because… he had no purpose.

He had no set goals, he didn't want to become an Auror, and he didn't want the wife and kids, he was gay for Merlin's sake! Quidditch had long since lost its appeal, what was his reason for life? Could he make it in the muggle world with barely an education? The Dursleys had seen to that, his knowledge of the outside world was just as limited to the Wizarding World. So Voldemort it was. Voldemort was his only saving grace and it had seemed that it was coming to an end. However it ended it would lead to death; Death at the hand of the Dark Lord or death of his own choosing.

He couldn't just return to a normal sort of life after all the training, sacrifices, all the crap he had gone through… but he was determined not to go down like this. Cold… rain just happening to fall, even colder rain at that, mud seeping through his robes as somehow the charms that had protected him had given away; He wanted a proper death, a reckless and heart stopping death – not one on his back while he tested his gradually working limbs that were freezing… especially not a death where a smirking Dark Lord stood above him, wand pointed directly at him. "Well fuck."

From above Voldemort smirked, his lipless mouth odd looking, "Any last words Potter?"

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpy had a great fall." He had a spare wand somewhere; his hands were beginning to shake, what the hell happened to his sword?

Voldemort blinked, "Interesting." He murmured, "I expected a more dramatic ending," the Dark Lord looked about, the rain sliding down his scaly face and the trees barely seen moved with each whipping wind. "But this will do. Avada Kadavra…"

Harry stared, Voldemort stared.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry blinked, Voldemort growled.

"Incendio!" Nothing. "Delechempo." Nothing.

The pins and needles feeling subsided and with ease Harry rolled over and stood as Voldemort kept attempting to spell his death. Pulling out his own spare wand, "Lumos." The magic was there, he could feel it simmer just at the surface but the wand was dead in his hands. "No magic."

"No shit Potter!"

Harry was surprised, Voldemort may be an evil Dark Lord but that was the first time he heard him swear. "I guess we'll just kill each other the old fashioned way." Lightning flashed, enough light to illuminate the clearing and show the two men just where their swords rested harmlessly. For a moment they glanced at one another and they lunged.

OoOoO

The world wasn't black and white. It was shaded; it was bathed in the red of blood, green of envy and black of corruption. The bad far outweighed the good, both were cynical, so alike, so very alike… but their lives had branched out into two possibilities.

Riddle had live a much more difficult life, he didn't know the meaning of family and the hopes to have one in the Orphanage had been squashed. He found no bonding in the muggle world nor in the wizarding world… so he compensated. He had watched those around him; all were cold faced, stern, and importantly dark. He took from the darkness of his life and ran with it until he became to world at large as the Dark Lord Voldemort. From the trash heap as a poor half-blood, robes tattered; he arose to a self proclaimed darkness that allowed him his own personal revenge.

Those that had spit and beaten him were torched and tortured under his wand. His magic had reared forth and revenge was his. Sweet, sweet revenge… it had been intoxicating using the magic that had been gifted to him by his ancestor. Then, and then, to his utmost glee, the purebloods were under his foot. Him a mere half-blood had his very own collection of the rich and powerful that knelt at his feet, greedily seeking his approval, his approval! Oh how the tides had turned, he was powerful, invincible. He held the fates of many by a mark of his own creation.

Potter knew what it meant to be a family. From afar he had watched and envied what it would be like to be loved and held. Through all the smacks and forced isolation he wished and promised that he wouldn't let the relatives who hated his very essence get the best of him. He would beat them at their game. He had gone to a school and finally he had been embraced. There was the friendship and general belong-ness… but life, his life wasn't well and good.

They had looked at him as their only hope; he was their pawn for a greater unchanged future. By the time he had realized that venomous snakes hid behind the smiles he was too late. Se immersed in his persona of good and light he couldn't break free from his shackles and tell the world just what he thought and do as he please… so like the Slytherin he could have been he planned and plotted.

He may not be able to escape far but he hid himself behind his own smile and hollow laugh. No more did he go to them for advice or confide in them. He feigned sleep as he procured the knowledge he wasn't supposed to. He used the link of himself and Voldemort to his benefit… the future may have been dim but he was more than ready to meet his desperate end and all the better to try and take down the very same wizard who put him in this position.

OoOoO

Flashes of light aided their sight. It was as if the heavens themselves were taking part of their dual. The rain came down in torrents, their grips were firm, their feet may have slipped and each took advantage of the other, the water may have blinded them on occasion but the odds were the same. It was an equal chance of how the outcome would come.

The swords clanged, the sound vibrated down their arms and touched their very essence, the sound echoed through the howling wind and the drowning plops of rain hitting the wet earth. So in tune with their war because no battle could be so consuming, they missed the stomp of paws or the swiftness of feet.

They weren't alone.

Steel, Gryffindor and Slytherin, clashed with sparks, the sharp double edges held no flaw. There was hits and misses… unfortunately the human body could take so much abuse and the first to lose his hold was the young one. With a grunt Harry felt the weight leave him and the pointed tip press beneath his chin, "I will so enjoy this." Backing away as the sword pressed harder he was lucky that he tripped and landed on his backside, giving him the perfect opportunity to kick the legs from the Dark Lord.

Harry had been trained in physical combat – Voldemort not so much. The scuffle on the ground was weighed down by their soaked and mud caked robes, both men had lost their weapons and Harry was on top. Touching the scaly skin didn't burst forth unimaginable pain; instead he felt gratification as his fist met flesh.

Satisfaction was short lived as a flaring pain forced a cry out of his mouth and he clutched at his side. His flesh met Voldemort's and felt slick marble of a blades hilt. His surprised eyes met that of Voldemort's cruel ones and he didn't protest as he was shoved off. The shock continued to flood him as he backed his way through the mud, the warmth of his blood spilling over his hand.

Voldemort lazily picked up his sword – completely unaware they were being watched far up in the trees. "The burn you feel is Basilisks venom."

Harry glared as he was pressed against a large uneven stone, "I'm immune to the shit."

Voldemort smirked, "Not the pain. It may not kill you Potter but you will beg for death." His sword was held lazily as he stepped forward, "It seems I win, as if I would use only Basilisk Venom Potter."

Gritting his teeth Harry pulled out the dagger and with shaking hands gripped it tight, "Like I give a shit."

Voldemort came to a stop, his head tilted just slightly, "I will miss our times together but like all things…" his words were cut off as he had to duck to avoid being hit by a rock, distracting him so he was momentarily unprepared for the body that slammed into him and the sharp pain as the hilt of his very own dagger pierced through the fabric of his robes and struck through his shoulder, hitting bone.

Harry moved away, His hands trembled so he fisted them. "Stop fucking talking!"

With a glare he removed the dagger and tossed it away, "You'll pay for that." Lunging forward, sword in hand he grunted with each swipe but Harry continued to evade him.

Searching the earth floor he found his sword and just managed to pick it up and block a swing but his arms felt like lead and he was forced to drop it when he was shoved away… falling to the ground. "Feel it Potter?"

"Fuck you!" his muddy hand clenched atop the wound.

Voldemort laughed, "Where are your allies now Potter? The werewolves? Veela? Vampires?" His sword hit the ground, right where Harry had lain but the boy was gone. Voldemort's confusion quickly changed to anger. "Potter!"

OoOoO

Harry clamped his mouth shut as he was effortlessly picked up and the wind rushed around him. Cold arms of steel wrapped him a gentle hold… vampire. The word filtered through his mind and he was relieved; That relief was quickly squashed as his magic bubbled and with a gasp he was gone once again… the vampire stumbling in shock as the human in his arms disappeared.

OoOoO

Voldemort watched as the bush his sword was pointed to move, "Come out Potter."

"Behind you." Someone rasped.

Voldemort turned, his forked tongue hissed as he caught sight of his rival – the boy just wouldn't die! Before he could snarl out a quip he took a good look at the boy. There was a clap of lightning and a boom of thunder, the flash of light was enough for him to take in the odd appearance before him. The boy's eyes weren't the dull green he was accustomed to; instead they were deep pools of nothing.

Hesitating, "Potter?" Was this the person he hated above all others, the boy wizard who just wouldn't bloody die?

"You have been judged and found wanting."

It was that tone, even threw the haze that was the storm Voldemort felt it tickle at his memories…. Where had he heard such a voice from? "Who are you?"

There it was another flash of lightning and as the sky and ground were illuminated Voldemort watched as for that brief second the face of his enemy shifted to that of something he never expected to encounter again, promises or not. In that brief second his mind was tossed into the past:

The moon was full, all magic was charged during the peak of such a night. High above the air outshining the stars that surrounded it the light held its own reflection in the pool of blood that gathered at the base of the stone pedestal. A blood sacrifice had to be made, an innocent muggle, a virgin, was preferred. A young girl on the cusp of woman hood whose breasts hadn't fully developed but such things were inconsequential.

Her eyes were glassy in death, the expression of fear was something he savored and Tom, no not Tom, he had renamed himself – Voldemort. Voldemort stood proud as he watched blood continue to well up from the single blow of death. It was a dagger made from human bone, tip dipped in a coating of his own blood. His lips still tingled from the chant he had recited as the girl screamed, begged for her life. It had fueled him, encouraged him, he couldn't help but laugh as she cried out for her mommy and daddy, her tears had dried from the cool breeze but the memory would be one he would gladly relive.

"You enjoyed it wizard?" the question was spoken in tone that sent shivers down his spine. The hairs on his arm stood on end as from the shadows a demon wrapped in the surrounding darkness waltzed forward.

"If this sacrifice doesn't please you, I can get another." Voldemort hid his concern well.

The demon merely moved to the opposite side and stepped into the pool of red as he leaned in, hidden eyes staring into dead eyes. "She will do. I can taste her fear from the edge of your wards… delicious."

"Pretty little thing."

"Physical beauty is nothing." A hand gestured lazily. "The next time you call for me wizard you know the price will be higher. I so enjoy these chats of ours but your needs are boring me."

Voldemort refused to hiss, he knew how far he could push and with this particular demon he was the weak one. "I need seven."

"And I've given you five." The demon snapped. "I've warned you Wizard what you seek has consequences. No immortal can escape death but death itself."

"With my Horcruxes I shall be immortal, I will rule and be the great Dark Lord Voldemort as is my right."

A curved claw emerged from the shadows revealing leathery scaly skin and slipped beneath a strand of gold wrapped around the muggle girl's neck and tugged, the clasp releasing itself. The Slytherin Pendant dripped with freshly spilt blood, the demon could see the churning magic woven within the metal. All that was necessary was for him to do his part but first, "A warning to you wizard. A balance must always be kept; when the time comes you will be judged."

"Death will never touch me, I'll be invincible."

"Remember wizard my words, an equal will be born, another to help balance the scale you have tipped with your folly." And with that the demon lifted the locket and swallowed it.

The wind picked up and Voldemort watched as the muggle girl sat straight up, her neck twisted so her dead eyes bore into his own and pale lips stretched into a gruesome smile, her teeth already blackened with decay and the last true awareness Voldemort held before his soul was ripped with a piercing scream was the cackle of the demon that drove him deeper into the madness of immortality.

"No… No!" Voldemort shouted his sword raised, eyes holding a glint of madness mingled with honest to Merlin fear.

"Greed kept you from greatness wizard." Harry's lips moved but the words were a fractions of a second slower leaving that awful smirk in place as the last word was spoken. "You have been judged." Voldemort watched with growing horror as from somewhere in the darkness the sword of Gryffindor pierced through the night and landed right in the palm of his possessed nemesis. "You've tipped the scales too far wizard."

Voldemort backed away, he tried to apparate but it was a sore reminder that his magic was somehow bound. He could feel it bubbling under the surface of his skin…"You're a demon, how could you not want the world to fall under me?"

The demon paused, its head tilted just slightly to the side. "Balance must always be kept. There are times of darkness and light, that's the way it was meant to be. A fine balance has to…" The demon gave a startled gasp as it jerked back a step and even in the dimness of light allowed by the parting clouds Voldemort saw Potter's eyes alter from one extreme to a subtler shade of green as the demon was expelled leaving a faint trail of smoke that was pushed away by an unassuming gust of wind. "Mother fucker." Harry gasped out, hands on his knees as he let out a cough, blood staining his teeth. "Fuck…" The brief moments of his possession that had kept the pain away made itself known and Harry could feel it coursing faster to make up for its submission.

Voldemort gritted his teeth and lunged, the sword should have speared directly into the boys chest but instead Potter had disappeared and reappeared only to fall flat on his ass. "Stand still and die." How did he get his magic back while his own was still bound?

Harry glared, "I hate you." With shaking hands he picked up the muddy sword and quickly got up on shaky legs. How long did he have? Merlin… was this how he was really going to go?

Voldemort smirked, "The feeling is mutual. Tell me Potter, did you sell your soul to the devil as well?"

"No, I'm just fates bitch." With that the real fight began again, it was a complicated dance that involved more dodges than nicks. Harry could feel that dark presence try to once again overwhelm him and he was tempted to allow it to swallow him whole but if he was going to die he wasn't going to do it under the mercy of that smug bastard of smoke. Maybe it was sheer dumb look but Harry wasn't one to lick a gift horse in the mouth so when he saw Voldemort trip over a hidden root he knew this would be his only chance.

It was ridiculously easy, too easy. The sharp tip pierced through fabric, skin, muscle, and with a squelch imbed itself within the maddest darkest wizard the modern world had seen by far surpassing the reputation of Grindelwald. There was a silence that was thick with something heavy that weighed on Harry's conscious. He could taste it in his mouth making him want to vomit, he could feel it settle a layer of grime on his body and he was sure no matter how much he scrubbed he would never be rid of it.

Wide panicked filled eyes clashed with resigned almost dead green eyes. So this is how it ended… 'Neither could live' Both were dying at the hands of one another, what a wonderful twist fate. Voldemort grimaced as he moved back; the sword leaving behind its filth within him but the once gleaming metal was now stained with his life. A shaky hand pressed against his mortal wound and he felt his life blood seep past his fingers, it was warm yet he felt cold. His knees grew weak and Voldemort tried to keep himself upright as he moved farther away, this wasn't supposed to happen. The Horcruxes, they weren't all destroyed, he shouldn't be feeling death creep into his vision and mocking him.

"I hate you only because of what you've forced me to do." Harry's words were met with a grunt as Voldemort fell to the ground unable to hold himself up anymore. The wizard shifted himself to drape over an oddly placed rock.

"You're no better than me now Potter." Voldemort's grin was all teeth and there was humor back in those eyes, a malicious humor. "How does it feel to have blood on your hands? You're no better than my Death Eaters only you've done it without the excuse of a wand."

"I'll gladly go to hell just to see your pretty face." The words slipped passed his lips before he realized he said it out loud, the words were purely sarcastic, and there was nothing pretty about the Dark Lord.

Shock quickly turned into a laugh that was met with a hacking cough leaving flecks of blood around the mouth and chin. "You saw?" Voldemort could feel the world begin to fade as the edges of his sight darkened; it was only a matter of moments.

"Everything." Harry moved closer and when he stood above the dying wizard he lifted his sword, "You have my sympathy… you won't get it in hell." And with that the blade sliced through the air and Harry would never know whether hacking at Voldemort's head is what finally killed him or the stab wound but in the end a portion of the Dark Lord's head rolled to the side leaving behind a neck and some part of the chin. It wouldn't be long before he too joined the bastard, Harry was sure what met him on the other side wasn't a white light with the smiling faces of his parents. He had killed a man, a bad man yes, but murder was murder no matter how you saw it.

Breadth hitching the poison of the blade had reached his repertory functions, he could feel his chest tighten and breadth come out in pants, only a matter of time before he would be lost in a haze of a consuming pain. Would he be twitching and screaming on the muddy ground or would death be merciful and allow his heart to simply stop? His fingers were starting to get numb, he could feel that prickly sensation start along his skin and before the sword that he had trained with could slip from his grasp Harry plunged it deep into Voldemort's chest until it imbedded itself into the very stone keeping the Dark Lord from slouching further.

Knees giving out the last thing Harry felt was a pair of cold arms catching him and immediately he managed to utter a single word, his last one to the world around him, "Ar – o..."

Finite...

A/N: Not a Death Fic. Harry lives because I said so. Was supposed to be a Harry/Twilight Xover. Possibly Slash but Romance wasn't guaranteed.

There is a possibility for more. Just sayn.