Harry was walking along the dark corridor through the Department of Mysteries. He strode slowly, carefully with an equal gait that never shifting into a run or stutter. He stood in the circle room with its many doors- and spared no moment for hesitation.

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door, where patches of light glittered like diamonds over the rock walls.

Harry walked, further and smoothly over and through the meandering halls until he entered the third door. Again, around, through pathways predetermined but without question. He walked through the cathedral-sized room full of a thousand shelves, and read each placard devotedly.

Ninety-Five…

Ninety-Six…

Ninety-Seven… he turned.

The two rows arced above him like trees, reminiscent of the straight trunks of the pines near the edge of Hagrid's Hut. Boughs woven into platforms, swirling orbs holding captured moonlight. Harry walked, slow and carefully between the aisles until he saw shadows build and form and recognized it for what it was.

Harry's stomach twisted, boiling in a contorted mixture of excitement and terror. Waspish, venomous, lethal.

"I forgot how naive you are," Harry said with a voice foreign to his ears.

Tom Riddle shuddered on the ground, his teeth like pearls as he bared them in a delighted breath. "Naive?"

"No," Harry corrected with barely a thought. "You weren't before, but now you're..laughable."

Tom shuddered again, his entire body contorting and twisting through the ripples of an unknown spell. Harry could feel it, the incantation on the tip of his tongue even when he knew not the name.

"I'm not laughable," Tom whispered, his voice raspy and broken. Harry realized, that the tone of speech implied that Tom had been screaming. "I've learned something you won't ever know."

Harry lifted his wand, and he said, " Crucio."

Tom crumpled further into the stone, screaming so loud the moonlight swirled in the nearest orbs. Tom's fingers contorted into claws, his entire chest seizing in rapid tremors that only ceased so he could inhale and scream once more. Harry watched, feeling warmth gush through his bones and the high piercing knowledge that it was funny.

Tom sagged, one eye bloodshot as a capillary burst below his left iris. It tainted his face, emphasizing the sallow complexion and the sunken hollows of his cheeks.

"Give in," Harry said disappointed. "You know there's no point to this. Take it for me...Lift it down, now…"

Tom tilted his head back, his eyes lolling in his skull, and he laughed. Blood dripped from his bitten lip, splattering with the strength of his laughter.

"I may be replaceable," Tom hissed through his agony. "But Harry Potter has taught me one thing you will never know…"

Harry felt his lip curl in distaste, disgust. Tom heaved, spitting a globule of mucus and blood onto Harry's shoe. Harry asked: "and what is that?"

Tom smiled with bloody teeth and bleeding eyes. "I am bloody stubborn."

"Voldemort's got Tom."

" What?"

"How d'you-?"

"Saw it. Just now. I just woke up and looked for you."

"But- where- how?" Hermione asked. Her face was white.

"I don't know how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these...orbs. They're in row ninety-seven...he's trying to get Tom to get what he wants…"

Harry sat down heavily, settling onto the bench between Ron and Hermione. It was still early, sunlight drifting through the windows in a taunt. Breakfast was a barren affair of toast and jam and Harry found himself shaking.

"How are we going to get there?" Harry whispered, hanging his head forward to stare at his fingers. They were his- his. Not long or boney, not white and skeletal or holding a foreign wand.

There was a moment's silence before Ron whispered, "G-get there?"'

"Get there so we can rescue Tom!" Harry hissed.

"Wait," Hermione interrupted quickly. "Think about this. It's six in the morning...The Ministry of Magic must be full of workers...how would Voldemort and Tom have gotten in without being seen? They wouldn't be able to get into the building undetected-."

"It's a Friday," said Ron. "Dad said Ministry opens at ten on Friday. Maybe there aren't any workers there."

"See!" Harry hissed, twitching slightly at the words. "We...they're...guys. They're torturing him."

Harry clutched his forehead, his entire body trembling with violent shakes he couldn't control. "They...It's real. I...I feel it. It wasn't just a dream- it was real. Like the snake...I…"

"Mate," Ron noted quietly. "You're shaking."

Hermione inhaled sharply, eyes locked on the vicious shaking. "Oh, oh. They...You-Know-Who was... torturing him?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No, I...Maybe it wasn't real. I just...Tom is...taking his exams and…"

Hermione inhaled so sudden, the noise drew eyes to her. "He...he would...maybe want to escape. He may have tried to run and was found-."

"Run?" Ron gawked. " Riddle? Why? Isn't he taking his bloody O.W.L.S or…"

"He's sick," Hermione whispered. "Tom is. He...He's away because…"

"What, again? How did- what did Riddle do-."

"No," Harry whispered. "I...I may have seen it. Through the...link. Something was wrong."

Something had been horribly wrong. More than Harry could explain- a monstrosity conjured in hysteria. A fever dream that wouldn't end.

A man, smelling of cologne and smiling in greed. Lovely lovely love…

"Everyone else is still sleeping off the exams," Ron pointed out. "It wouldn't be... that hard to sneak out."

"You aren't actually considering this, are you!" Hermione asked.

Ron scowled and shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I may not like the bloke but that doesn't matter. If you're asking me if I'm willing to sit here and eat some bloody grits when someone is being tortured... It doesn't bloody matter if it's Riddle. I'm not going to sit here and let that go on."

Hermione recoiled as if she had been struck.

"Maybe you can," he continued with a frown. "But...look, we both know Harry's got a bit of a...saving-people-thing,"

"I have a what?"

"But that doesn't matter," Ron said. "Look, the world is shite. My dad got attacked by a ruddy snake, and my sister got attacked by a snake, and now Riddle is being attacked by a snake's bastard cousin... I don't know. This may be stupid, and reckless, but the world is already rotten enough. I can't just sit here and pretend there's nothing I can do."

"I know," Hermione whispered. "I...Harry can you...can you check before we…"

Harry had frozen, face turning pale throughout Ron's small monologue. One hand flickered to Harry's forehead, resting gently and trembling worse than before. "I can't feel...he's...he's gone. I don't...he isn't there- I can't feel him- he's never...guys I can't feel him."

"We'll have to use the floo," Hermione said. "Do you...Do you remember where Tom went that one time, Harry? When you...used the floo before?"

'No," Harry said. "I couldn't hear the address. You're saying he's with Crina? Can't we contact her?"

"What about going to Nurmen-gurmen-whatevers?"

"Nurmengard, and no," Hermione dismissed. "It's swarmed with reporters since... that. We wouldn't find her there anyways. She's wanted by the Ministry so any contact would likely be blocked off- thinking that we're Umbridge."

"So we go to the Ministry directly," Ron said. "Go to the Hospital Wing, straight to the Ministry. They need to have links anyways. Then, when we're there, we send a message off to Si-... Padfoot."

"No, we do that before," said Hermione. "Send a message to Padfoot before we head to the Ministry…."

With a plan in action, Harry didn't bother to answer. He flung himself out of the room, fighting his way up the stairs through the lingering bits of morning risers. Seamus and Dean were chatting two floors up, bantering about something Harry couldn't hear.

'Dean,' Harry thought with a horrific sort of guilt. 'Oh Merlin, if anything happens to Tom…'

Harry scrambled upwards, over carpets and through corridors as portraits shouted in annoyance. He knew that Ron and Hermione were chasing after him, but until then he had a plan he had to stick to.

The Hospital Wing was quiet and empty so early in the morning. Harry took the lead, rushing past the locked carts and cabinets with a single-minded focus. The door opened under one shove of his elbow, the old dusty fireplace sat innocently.

Harry seized the pot of Floo powder, threw a pinch into the grate and thrust his head into the dancing fire. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

His head began to spin as though he got off the knight bus. He kept his eyes screwed up against the whirling ash, and when it stopped he found himself looking ut upon the cold kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The table was empty, but Harry remembered viscerally the sight of Tom convulsing from overdose on its surface.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted into the darkness. "Sirius! Are you there?"

Kreacher the house-elf came creeping into view. He looked highly delighted about something, though he seemed to have recently sustained a nasty injury to both hands, which were heavily bandaged. He wrung them harshly, twisting across the wrist.

"It's the Potter boy's head in the fire," Kreacher informed the empty kitchen, "What has he come for, Kreacher wonders?"

"Where's Sirius, Kreacher?" Harry demanded. The house-elf gave a wheezy chuckle.

"What about Lupin? Mad-Eye? Any of them, are any of them here?"

"Nobody here but Kreacher!" said the elf gleefully, and turning away from Harry he began to walk slowly toward the door at the end of the kitchen. "Kreacher thinks he will have a little chat with his Mistress now, yes, he hasn't had a chance in a long time, Kreacher's Master has been keeping him away from her —"

'Bellatrix,' Harry realized with dread. "Don't you dare!"

Kreacher laughed, ignoring him. Harry's head swam, ash drifting into his eye. "Kreacher! Stop! Kreacher get back here!"

"Potter boy is not Kreacher's Master!" Kreacher taunted gleefully. "Kreacher does not need to listen-."

"You will tell someone that Tom is in the Department of Mysteries," Harry outburst, "Or- or you will never see your Mistress again!"

Kreacher froze dead in his tracks, falling silent in speechless horror. Harry had no time left to deal with the elf. He pulled himself free, gagging through the vertigo until Ron and Hermione peered at him worried.

"We're good," Harry coughed out smoke. "Kreacher will take the message."

" Kreacher?" Ron sniffed, so stressed his voice broken an octave. "Oh, great."

Harry ignored him, grabbed an entire fistful of powder and threw it directly into the grate. It burst to life with a loud green roar, illuminating every corner of the small room. "British Ministry of Magic!"

They stepped into the fire with arms entangled, landing in a sprawl of chaos and limbs. The protective cage of the floo network landing slowly rose- golden light spilling into their little ash corner. It widened, rising higher over there body. Harry bent his knees and held his wand at ready as he stepped into the Ministry Atrium- but it was completely empty.

The light was dimmer than it had been by day. There were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls- the other floo network links, but he saw as the lift slid smoothly to a halt that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling. "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said an automated woman's voice. It rang with a hollow echo, making everything feel much more eerie.

The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool. The water bubbled unbothered, glowing with lantern light over the surface.

"Come on," said Harry quietly and the three of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain.

his feeling of foreboding increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts. He pressed the nearest down button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking, and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button, the grilles closed with a bang, and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. Harry had not realized how noisy the lifts were on the day that he had come with Mr. Weasley — he was sure that the din would raise every security person within the building, yet when the lift halted, the cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open again.

They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift. Harry turned toward the plain black door. He had dreamed it so vividly, he felt he could walk the proper path with his eyes closed.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Ron asked him in a whisper. The walls seemed to absorb sound, pressing on them all uncomfortably.

He turned to face the door and walked forward. Just as it had in his dream, it swung open and he marched forward, leading the others over the threshold. They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling — identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looked as though there was dark water underfoot.

"Someone shut the door," Harry muttered. Hermione did so, trapping the three of them in the small room.

In his dream, Harry walked with purpose and intent. He mirrored those steps, trying to recall their confidence the best he could. He stepped forward, footsteps soft over stone. He knew the door- he knew the path.

Hermione and Ron near clung to him, careful to not deviate. The room pressed in on them, but Harry paid it no mind as he strode through the second door, and then the third door on the left.

"This is it," Harry said, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt it must interfere with his speech. "It's through here —"

He glanced around at them. Both Ron and Hermione had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. He had trained them well- they would be fine.

Harry looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open. They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs.

Silver balls of moonlight which glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames burned blue.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. He could not hear anything nor see the slightest sign of movement. He thought for some unknown reason, that he would be able to hear Tom screaming.

'Stupid,' Harry thought. 'Tom always suffers silently.'

"You said it was row ninety-seven," whispered Hermione.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure 53.

They crept forward, staring behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the farther ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelf. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown lightbulbs.

"Is he still alive, even?" Ron asked quietly.

"I'd have felt it," Harry whispered back. 'I would know…'

They found the row and aisle, and Harry turned to gaze down it with a deep pit of despair. There was nobody there.

There was nothing to be said- it was as clear to him as it was to both Ron and Hermione that Tom was not here. Instead, they turned their eyes to the shelves.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "This one has your name on it."

He stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck upwards like Hermione to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.

Harry stared at it.

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?"

Ron glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf. "I'm not here," he said, sounding perplexed. "Neither is Mione..."

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand. "Why not?" he said. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

Perhaps it was the adrenaline and fear that led him to indulge in such a compulsion. The panic for Tom hasting his poor choices. Harry closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make their long and dangerous journey worthwhile after all. Something, somehow, would reveal the secret to where Tom was.

Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it. Nothing whatsoever happened. And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

'You always were stupid,' Harry could imagine Tom saying. Sighing in exasperation over his choices.

Harry turned slowly, keeping his back to the shelves. Black shapes were swirling in the shadows, drifting back and forth with a lazy sort of haste. Dark hollows from long hoods and the white glint of bone masks. A dozen lit wand tips moved about like Will-O-Wisp, pointing at their hearts.

"To me, Potter," repeated Lucius Malfoy with one hand outstretched

"To me," said Malfoy once again.

Harry felt it deep in him, a raw sort of rage. Panic and terror, adrenaline surging but above all that- his anger. They had taken so much from him, hurt his family and his friends.

Why would he obey? In what world did Voldemort ever imagine that Harry would obey?

What would Tom do, when faced with a decision so difficult and challenging it would almost assuredly result in his death?

Tom would laugh, throwback his throat and bleed from his eyes and say: Never.

A woman emerged from the side with a loud shrill laugh. "Look at him! Oh! So small and cute!"

She leaned forward, wild eyes and savage sneer as she mocked him: " The little baby woke up fwightened and fout what it dweamed was twue!"

Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him, waiting at the ready. The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter.

"Oh! You think you could fight us?" She laughed. "Think you could fight us?"

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," said Malfoy softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

Harry's grip tightened, his skull burned, and he felt like screaming into the abandoned cathedral of his own design. Instead, he said: "Go on then."

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy coolly.

Lies, Harry knew. Harry's mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, make sure that none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity . . .

They were all terrified of him- of the option that Harry would break the prophecy, why else would they not attack?

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?" She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So," said Harry, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," said Harry, his eyes flicking from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix.

"Yeah," said Harry, maintaining his tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. "Yeah, I've got no problem saying Vol —"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare —"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" said Harry recklessly. Surely they would know that- if they had Tom here then they would know that. Harry could admit, that his words did sound horrible objectively. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear.

"Voldemort?" Harry continued, 'Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?"

Bellatrix shrieked in rage. "Stupef—"

"No!"

I was right.

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. The eruptions drew smoke, which Harry used as cover. He hauled Hermione and Ron backward, running as quickly as he could.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed. Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: "Leave Nott, leave him, I say! The Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy — Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary — Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right — Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead — Macnair and Avery, through here — Rookwood, over there — Mulciber, come with me!"

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Harry, trembling from head to foot.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," said Harry. A plan was twitching to life in his brain- scrambling to fit itself together.

They raced through the shelves, Hermione managing to silence their footsteps so they could run without fear. It did nothing to stop her quick breathing, the least athletic of the three.

Harry wondered if Tom would laugh at him, finding the entire situation ridiculous.

"Harry, we can't keep hiding!" Hermione said frantically. "They'll find us! They won't stop!"

"Yeah mate," Ron said through his own panting breath. "They really want to bloody find us."

The last piece slid into place with shocking clarity. Harry turned on his heel, drew his wand, and waited.

They were near a corner, one that Harry took advantage of and placed his back in the crease. He could see every possible angle of approach, every direction was directly in front of him.

"Harry!" Hermione whispered terrified. "They're coming!"

"Silence us," Harry said. "Don't bloody move."

He drew his wand, running through the movements twice- just as Tom had done. Tom had been so calm, so careful and easy with his words. Back then it had been only Umbridge.

Harry lifted his wand and said through chattering teeth: "Spectoillex pavor."

His wand made dark black cracks across the air as if he had shattered a watch face that hung between them and the doorway. They spread, linking back and forth in a chaotic mess like spiderwebs, or frost patterns. Beautiful, ornate, dangerous.

Harry sank to his knees, convulsing under the surge of feeling. Pleasure, pain, a buzzing network of nerves singing and crying. Tears welled in his eyes- distantly he knew Ron and Hermione had looped his arms around their necks to hold him up.

Harry's jaw slid open, breathing coming in silenced heavy wheezes. The spidercracks pulsed, glowing black with the moonlight smoke of smashed prophecies around them.

Bellatrix Lestrange appeared on the other side of their cage, eyes sliding right over their hiding spot with no care. She screamed in wordless rage- infuriated- because…

"What about the illusion spell then?"

"A curse," Tom admitted. "Made to reflect the opponents worst imagined fear. It could be used for mental torture, or it could be used to show a woman her least wanted desire."

"An empty room," Harry realized. "You used the curse so she'd see what she didn't want to."

Harry shuddered, his body contorting through the overstimulation of nothing words could describe. Hermione's grip tightened around his side.

Once, twice, three times Death Eaters brushed past their hiding spots. They paid them no attention, trapped on the other side of an illusion. Bellatrix's screaming turned more desperate. Feral and wild and she began to smash the shelves in her rage.

Then, the door to the room opened with a rattling boom. Blown clear off its hinges, and inwards stormed their heroes.

"Go!" Moody roared with a wide berth of orange fire sprouting from his wand. "Tonks! Close flank-."

"Protego!" Sirius Black shouted, deflecting one nasty curse before sending a stunner in return. Tonks transfigured a shelf into an octopus, snaring one Death Eater around his throat.

Dumbledore surveyed the room with a grim frown, and Harry finally let the curse drop.

It was instant bliss, the overwhelming surge of feeling that was both too much and too little. He sobbed wordlessly, rebounding through the pain as Hermione threw a leg locking jinx at a Death Eater attacking Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there. There were yells; one of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line —

Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

"Harry!" Dumbledore shouted at him, "Run!"

He ran and slammed the door behind him. The walls had begun to rotate again. Once more he was surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra.

"Where's the exit?" he shouted desperately, as the wall rumbled to a halt again. "Where's the way out?"

The room seemed to have been waiting for him to ask. The door right behind him flew open, and the corridor toward the lifts stretched ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran. . . .

He could hear a lift clattering ahead of him. He sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner, and slammed his fist onto the button to call a second lift. It jangled and banged lower and lower; the grilles slid open and Harry dashed inside, now hammering the button marked Atrium. The doors slid shut and he was rising.

The air-cooled, Hermione gasped in fear- and a Dementor screamed as it raced through the black shafts towards them.

"No!" Ron shouted, throwing one arm to push Hermione behind him. "Expecto Patronum!"

They recoiled, snarling in hisses as silver animals fended them off. The elevator grill opened and without pause- they ran.

"The floo!" Hermione screamed, ducking one furious dementor as her otter chased it away. Her hands closed on the floo pot, chucking it entirely into the flame. It roared a bright green glow. Ron shouted out Hogwarts! And slid on his knees into the fire.

Hermione lunged in after, Harry was nearly to the chimney when a bright red curse flew over his shoulder and bashed apart the grate. It slammed down so quickly, Harry wondered if he would have lost his legs if he made it a second sooner.

"Potter!" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, looking furious and mangled. Her face was coated in blood, mouth missing two teeth. " Potter!"

His escape ruined, Harry slid on his knees behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Her next spell zoomed past him and hit the wrought gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps, she had stopped running.

"Come out, come out, little Harry!" she called in her mock-baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. Harry felt his heart in his throat, the prophecy in his fist. His nerves still buzzed from the illusion curse earlier, begging for more and dreading it at the same time.

Bellatrix screamed in wordless rage. She threw a blasting curse that demolished part of the fountain as if a dragon bit a quarter of it free.

Harry had been edging around the fountain on the other side. She screamed, "Crucio!" and he was forced to duck down again as the centaur was blasted from its podium across the ground.

"Potter, you cannot win against me!" she cried.

He could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of him. He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur's legs, his head level with the house-elf's.

"I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete —"

"Don't look so wounded, Boy Hero...You can't fight all your battles using a Patronus and a disarming spell. Learn some curses, battlefield amputation recovery…"

Harry closed his eyes, inhaled slowly and steadied himself.

"If I were you, Boy Hero. I'd learn some actual magic…"

Harry heard Bellatrix scream, her curses thrown as more rock exploded. Water sprayed about him, coating his face. The wizard from the fountain had been hurled across the room, it's torso a garish mutilation, it's head decapitated at Harry's feet.

Tom had been so honest, quiet and sad. He knew battle, more than Harry ever did.

"...Otherwise, you won't survive when the bombs go off."

"Ictum!" Harry shouted, twisting and throwing the cutting curse like he was catching a snitch. The spell flew fast- it would start to falter at the end, Tom showed him that in training- and hit.

Bellatrix screamed, her left hand lifting to grab her other as three fingers exploded off with a wet sound. They twitched on the stone, severed and coating her dropped wand with blood.

"I don't need to win!" Harry shouted, scrambling towards the available floo. Bellatrix's screams turned to sobs, and then they turned to begging.

Harry slowed, then stopped. The dementors weren't looking at him, they were hovering tame in the air, staring behind him. Harry turned slowly, exhaling a silent breath. The world melted and solidified with an apathetic sort of blur.

Tall, thin, draped in black just as every memory Harry had. His terrible snakelike face contorted into a mimicry of a human. White and gaunt, his scarlet slit-pupil eyes stared unnervingly. Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood unable to move.

"Are you sure, Potter?" said Voldemort softly. He stared unblinking and turned his head ever so slightly. "So desperate to live...but now, you care so little for winning."

Voldemort turned to look at Bellatrix, sobbing at his feet. She cowered on the ground, smearing her blood and tears on his shoes.

"Master, I am sorry. I have failed you!" she sobbed desperately.

"Be quiet, Bella," said Voldemort. "I am not here for your apologies."

He turned calmly, predatory in everything he did. Voldemort lifted his wand uncaringly, and smile a thin familiar expression that made Harry's chest hurt.

"I have nothing left to say to you, Potter," he said quietly. "You have been an obstruction for too long. Avada Kedavra!"

Harry didn't think of resisting. His mind was blank, frozen in its operation. The headless statue of the wizard from the fountain sprung alive, leaping upwards from the floor to deflect the curse.

"What?" Voldemort blinked. His face fell, he breathed, "Dumbledore."

Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates, dented from the power of Bellatrix's curse. Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too.

Voldemort smiled, a thin quirk of his lips as the statues began their robotic movements. The headless wizard stood stiff, protecting Harry from direct attack.

Bellatrix sobbed from her spot, holding her wand clumsily in her left hand. She alternated between insults and magical curses, spewing acid and blasts to bludgeon the statue goblin into dust.

The one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort- who whispered a spell calmly and watched uncaringly as the centaur cracked brittle, and shattered like ice.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The Aurors are on their way —"

"By which time I will be gone," spat Voldemort whose calm mood turned sour at the title. He threw a killing curse at Dumbledore who dodged. Where the spell hit stone, it burst into searing fire which somehow threatened to melt the granite.

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry felt his hair stand on end as it crackled the air. Voldemort constructed a shining silver shield out of thin air- its presence gleamed like a Patronus although it appeared solid on impact. It sounded like grinding gears, the dragging of stone on stone.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, who recognized the spell the Headmaster used. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —"

Voldemort smiled sharp and bright. "Oh? Like Grindelwald then? Who you enslaved and left as gruel for a dog."

Dumbledore's calm demeanor changed slightly. His light tone turned strained. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —"

Voldemort threw a curse- and the house-elf statue leaped into the air to deflect it. It took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces.

"You are hiding, Dumbledore," Voldemort said. He looked offended, annoyed at the display. "When will you shed your cowardice and fight me?"

Harry watched and felt more than heard Tom and his confession. Hubris. I asked him for knowledge, and he told me no.

Dumbledore looked sad as he drew back his wand and formed himself a whip of fire that burned brighter than the sun. Finally, Voldemort's eyes alit with an excited passion, his wand raised in preparation.

The whip became a snake, and then water drowned the world. The water molded into liquid glass that shielded Voldemort under another barrage of spells. They spoke so quickly, fluent Latin and incantations, that they appeared to be whispering as if in prayer.

They danced, exchanging back and forth. The Dementors watched them, terrified to intervene. Bellatrix curled in on herself, afraid to cry or laugh at the scene. Harry knew that emotions were beyond the monster he observed, but in a different world, he imagined Voldemort to be enjoying himself.

And then Voldemort vanished, and Dumbledore turned on Harry so quickly it looked choreographed. Dumbledore shouted, "Stay where you are, Harry!"

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why. The hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix contorted on the floor and the remnants of twitching statues.

And then Harry's scar burst open, and he breathed in so deep he felt he was drowning.

Harry was no stranger to pain, to the binding and splitting of himself. He was a thing made of clay, mouldable to whoever the world needed. A savior, a liar, a boy, and a weapon. He was Voldemort's enemy, and Tom Riddle's friend. He was bound in the grip of an endless thing with scales and coils that encircled the world. No beginning or ending, it was a serpent that swallowed its tail and Harry let himself be shaped. When it spoke, it used his mouth. When it laughed, it used his tongue. When it moved, it used his skin.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore," they said. "If death is nothing, Dumbledore. Kill the boy."

It hurt, but it was a familiar burn. Harry once feared this sort of isolation, but this connection and link had gifted him precious things. The first time Tom met Nagini, the faces of Cygnus and Abraxas. The sight of pain and suffering; the few secret moments of true genuine happiness.

The creature recoiled, shifting and gurgling. They gagged, dropping to their knees in alarm. What once felt endless was warping, distorting under an omnipotent pressure. Gravity was changing, oxygen stripping away.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked in fear. "Harry!"

"What is this?" They asked, choking on foul twisted feeling. It was wrong, it was disgusting- it was sadness and glee. Curiosity and pride.

"What are you doing?" They demanded, "stop this!"

No, I don't think I will. It said like a god- then it laughed. Oh, I'll be your God.

They screamed, contorting- the pressure so hard it turned them inside out. It's coils shrinking, flipping until Harry's flesh expanded and constricted itself like a noose. The scales and coils compressed inside his ribs, in his muscle. Smaller and tighter he squeezed and Voldemort screamed.

Harry came back face down, shuddering on the stone. He turned to his side, spitting out drool and snot. Dumbledore grasped him, helping him to his feet.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry, shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly. "Yes, I'm- I-."

His knees locked, only Dumbledore's hold kept him upright.

"Interesting," said Voldemort like the wind. He manifested standing a short stride away, eyes wide and interested. A large muscled snake emerged from the fold of his cloak, trailing carefully over the ground. The rasp of scales on rock left Harry shuddering with phantom aches.

"Stop this, Tom," Dumbledore said gravely. Harry realized, that somewhere in the battle Dumbledore acquired the prophecy. "You can not win this fight."

The snake, Nagini, hissed quietly. A repeated mantra of adoration and respect; it's intelligence startled Harry for the briefest of moments.

"I only need to kill the boy," Voldemort said. "You have already suffered for your actions-."

Harry groaned in discomfort at the same moment Voldemort flinched backward. Bellatrix screamed, holding her wand aloft-.

Crack!

A single figure, kneeling on the ground in a large lopsided jacket, staggered from the portkey. One step upwards, the soft brush of fur on stone.

Voldemort took a step backward, hesitating in his movements. Harry felt a smile rise unconsciously, teasing on his face.

Tom Riddle stood aquiver with determination. His coat unfolded in panels of mink and fox and wolf. Harry barked a muffled laugh- Tom Riddle was eccentric at his core.

A flash of memory, of a dream forever ago.

I've given out on the love you hold so close, I've stopped looking for a way out of that dark place, I've stopped praying for the light. This is my last confessional.

"Tom," Dumbledore said like a dying man. "Why are you covered in blood?"

Tom Riddle lifted his head, swaying with the whispers of Dementors in the sky. Tom's skin and clothes smeared black with blood, bits of mangled tissue trapped near his belt. The fur cloak obscured the horror until it slid from his thin shoulders, revealing the extent of his display.

Tom Riddle stared at the ground, rocking side to side as he giggled low and childish. Increasing in volume and intensity until its hysteria rivaled that of Bellatrix. He threw his head back and revealed a horrid black stain across his throat. A laceration, a wound that spanned deeper than the flesh.

"What?" Bellatrix asked scared across the room. "What is that?"

Tom Riddle grinned a bloody smile, his eyes bright with fever, They bled red.

"Tom?" Harry asked with a quivering voice. "Tom? Where- where's Crina?"

Tom took a precarious step forward. Half a shuffle, half a limp. His fingers twitched, his body a cancerous manifestation.

"Tom?" desperately Harry asked. "Where's Crina?"

He already knew it, inexplicably he knew. Like he knew the sun would set, or how letters created a word.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "Madam Dimitriu is...dead-."

Harry knew that and more. "No. Tom ate her."

"What?" Dumbledore whispered, as pale as stone. "No... no-."

Tom Riddle looked at Voldemort and laughed.

"Look at you!" Tom said deranged. "You look like a monster. A...a disgusting..."

"This is pathetic," Voldemort hissed. "A child, a brat-."

Tom pulled out his wand with an impish sort of movement. A wild smirk and hidden gleam in his red eyes. "You did it wrong," he informed Voldemort happily. "You butchered yourself. You did it so horribly you've become infected."

Voldemort snarled wordlessly. The Dementors swarmed and descend.

"You tore without consideration," Tom whispered. "Without knowledge of how to heal. I'll show you... Expecto Patronum."

Harry watched in wonder as Tom Riddle, baptized in blood, spread his arms and spread his wings. His vulture soared and circled, a glowing siren in the shadows.

"You ripped out all of your salvation!" Tom shouted, taking a slow stride forward. Voldemort took a step back. "You tore out everything that mattered, and now you are an abomination."

"I am the Dark Lord!" Voldemort screamed. Harry realized, that Voldemort was afraid. "I am the most powerful-."

"Maybe so," Tom mused with a chuckle. Unconcerned with the sight, the scene. "You do not allow yourself to feel. That is your greatest flaw, your greatest failure."

" Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed although his aim was lost. The man's slit eyes were wide with fear. "I will kill you! I will-."

"Someone precious to me told me, it's okay to feel regret," said Tom. "I do, and you never will. I regret your existence. I regret you were made."

Voldemort choked on nothing and sunk to his knees. His white skin peeled back, bubbling away as he contorted in silent torment. Tom Riddle walked towards him, a sixteen-year-old boy with blood and salvation.

"I'll save us," Tom whispered. He brushed his fingers against Voldemort's skull and passed judgment.

"Master?" Bellatrix gasped, "Master! What did you do? Bring him back! Bring him back!"

Tom flexed his hand, turned his eyes on Bellatrix and said: " Crucio ."

Bellatrix screamed and Tom laughed. The boy looked surprised, attempting to suppress his giggles.

"It's funny," he said awestruck. Shivers wracked his body, a ticklish sensation that made the world seem so delightful. Slowly Tom turned to Harry and Dumbledore. "The Cruciatus...it's... humor."

Bellatrix sobbed silently on the ground, and Tom examined his hands like they were unfamiliar to him. His eyes red and bright, his soul bleeding through its window. Nagini, drawn by an unnamed magnetic force, circled closer with whispered questions of familiarity. I love you, she said because she promised decades ago. I love you, Master. She circled his legs and thigh, coiled loveling near his flank; the vulture Patronus descended and perched along Tom's shoulders- granting him the illusion of silver wings.

"Tom," Dumbledore said in the tone of a defeated man. "Tom, what have you done?"

"I've fixed everything," Tom said. "I've healed what was broken. Gained memories of what should never happen. Morsmordre. "

His vulture transformed, elongated into a dark ash serpent that haunted the skies of the Quidditch World Cup. Then, it sprouted wings like the scavenger. A holy beast made from the serpent that would never die, and the vulture that would live forever.

"Crina gave me her sacrifice," Tom whispered, "her love. I'm going to fix things, save everyone. I'm going to save us all."

Dumbledore cried a single tear, and Harry gazed at the new Dark Lord with a bleeding soul in his eyes: There is no God but me.

"Don't worry about your war. This time..." Tom Riddle smiled genuine with all his heart and Voldemort's soul. Combined into on unstoppable force, one self-fulfilled diety.

"...This time, I'll do better. "

Thank you so much, for everything you all have done.

It took a year, 175K, but finally, we've come full circle.

Thank you for reading to the end, for being my inspirations, and for being the fuel to burn my fire.

Remember you all are loved, I am so proud of you all.

[For fanart, go to the AO3 version of this story, or directly to my Tumblr Digitalta]

[For publication information and original works, go to my Tumblr Digitalta]