Final Penance

• Mehetabelo •

Disclaimer: Such a shame it isn't mine. Would've been different by my design.

Note: An answer to one of the possible scenes in the PottersPlace3's writing contest this month. I have taken certain liberties on a certain character, you'll understand in the end, please just read it with an open mind.

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He couldn't do it.

Staring down into her face, Harry Potter realized something about himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't be a killer, something inside prevented him from doing it. He'd taken a life before, many times in battle, he'd stared into that dark abyss and refused it entry into his mind. In the seven years since school had ended he'd walked the line so many times, but never once stepped over it and simply killed because of convenience. He was not Tom Riddle, he had fought long and hard to keep himself from becoming like that person.

Beyond the door the sounds of battle filtered through, a battle Harry was sure his side was loosing. Yes, they'd been able to find Voldemort's hideout and even managed to penetrate his wards without Tom's notice, but once the battle had begun, every Death Eater had been called to fight. The Aurors were there in mass and they were using the killing curse, yes, but how many of them could really use it? Not nearly enough to even up the odds.

Now Tom Riddle himself had shown up, Harry could feel him moving closer through the battle, cutting down anything and everything that opposed him. He was strong, what some might call an angel of death. Few could face him without some hesitancy, and that was all Tom needed to cut them down without mercy.

"I can't," Harry finally whispered, defeated by his own misgivings. He looked into Bellatrix's eyes, as she lay in fear, staring back at him, and he felt an overwhelming emotion in the back of his mind. Tears bubbled to the surface, a concept that had become foreign to his war worn mind; he refused to cry because too many people relied on him now. "I'm sorry Sirius, I'm sorry Neville," he whispered into the darkness of the room.

Bellatrix's eyes widened more as he leaned forward. She probably couldn't hear very well, the result of an explosion going off near her head during the earlier battle. It had thrown her off her rhythm enough for Harry and Neville to gain the upper-hand. They were good, but she had always been better. Staring into her eyes he sighed again and shook his head, then he felt a presence just beyond the door, Tom had finally arrived.

"Leave," Harry said calmly, but loud enough she should be able to hear him pointing towards a back door to reinforce his words.

Tremors of anticipation coursed through his veins, the final battle had come. He would die today or he would triumph. Either way, the prophecy would be fulfilled. Then he would have peace. Somewhere in his mind he wondered if he'd falter here, in the heat of battle. He pushed away the thought though, not giving Tom something to cling onto, killing Bellatrix while she lay at his feet was far different than killing Voldemort in a real battle.

The dark wooden door burst from its frame, smashing into the far wall and splintering into hundreds of pieces as Harry dodged away from its path. Tom always did have a flare for entrances. In the room beyond, bodies lay strewn about, proof of Tom's superior abilities.

Harry clutched his wand tightly, hoping some of the greener Aurors didn't make it this far. Even with all the training and fighting they had done, they wouldn't be ready for this massacre. He supposed in the end, the greenies would be all that was left though. This battle was an end all battle, and only those training or fortunate enough to be preoccupied or injured would be the ones to clean up this mess.

"Stay Bella!" Tom shrieked in his eerie voice the moment he saw her trying to crawl through the door in the back wall. "See my triumph!"

"It won't matter, Tom" Harry said quietly from the side of the room, careful not to start the duel immediately. He needed to have more time. "She'll not be able to speak of it anyway; she no longer has the ability to speak at all."

Tom's eyes widened slightly, which seemed strange on his inhuman face. "That's quite cruel Harry," he said, showing the same familiarity that Harry showed him, "even with all the times I've tried to teach you such pleasures, you resisted so well. I almost would not believe you had it within you. I've seen into your mind many times Harry. Where did this sudden darkness come from?"

In truth Harry had not done it. Neville had, as his last act in life, silencing the very thing that had destroyed his own life. He'd probably meant to kill her moments afterwards, but the coward, Draco Malfoy, had used Avada Kedavra on him from a dark niche where he'd been hiding. One of the Aurors had captured the platinum haired aristocrat only moments later. Harry briefly wondered if he was dead now, he may very well be.

The Auror was probably a friend, maybe even a former member of the DA, and he knew how savage they'd become in this war. It wasn't their fault, but the loss of the things they cared most for had pushed many of them to the edge. Draco had delivered the stolen list of students in the DA to Tom before the war truly started. Slowly, over the next few years, every person on the list had been attacked, their families killed in the most gruesome ways.

Harry spent many nights buried in grief, believing he was partially at fault for their losses. Only a handful of the members had actually fallen, but very few of their families survived. This was one of the many cruelties the war had brought down upon them, and Harry knew he had to end it here and now, for everyone who had died.

Looking to Bella, who had crawled into the far corner instead of trying to leave, he steeled himself once more, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "She's a weakling who can no longer even use magic, and is little more than a squib. She does not matter anymore, not to you or to me."

"No, I suppose not," Tom said as his face split with an evil grin, his eyes watching Harry carefully. "But there are other uses for her, especially now that she can do so little to defend herself."

Having seen Tom's idea of fun on many occasions through the link in their minds, Harry momentarily felt sorry for the poor witch. Bellatrix's acts had taken her to the doors of hell, and Neville had assured her an entrance, no matter the winner of this battle. Harry knew that even if he did manage to win, the Dementor's would make quick work of her because she had no internal magic to fight them off. Muggles and squibs rarely lasted a few months in Azkaban.

"It is you and I now, Tom, do not forget that."

"I am no longer Tom Riddle, I haven't been for a long time, Harry," he returned.

"Neither are you whole, Tom. You know I am there, at the edge of your mind, listening, watching, the same as you do to me. You and I are two of a kind, so much alike and yet so very different. You know what I've been doing, Tom, how close you are to death."

The emptiness in Tom's eyes told Harry the twisted man did know. It was one of the few things Harry'd tried his best to hide, but their minds touched so often anymore that sometimes it was difficult to distinguish where his mind stopped and Tom's started. This was not a fight Harry could allow himself to lose, and so he would not enter it quickly unless he was forced to, or he managed to discover a way to win.

"My Horcruxes have been destroyed, I can feel their passing. However, you've missed one, Harry and cannot yet kill me. I will destroy you and make yet another horcrux with your death."

"No, Tom," Harry returned quietly, a calmness settling over him. He wondered if this was what Dumbledore felt when he stepped into battle. He'd always been so strong, and yet so calm, as if he could sway the very forces of nature themselves. "I know there is a limit. To further fragment your soul would destroy you, or you would have done it already. There is so little left of you now, so very little. You're no longer the man you once were, and you'll never be again."

A moment of anger passed beneath Tom's eyes and Harry saw a brief glance at Bellatrix. Harry understood that, no matter what happened now she would die, Tom would not tolerate anyone knowing his greatest secret. A weakness was not something that any one else could ever learn of or their life would immediately be forfeit.

"Your fight is with me, Tom," Harry reminded the snake like man calmly, the serene emptiness of his mind keeping him focused on what he had to do. "If you manage to win, you can worry about her."

In the past years since Dumbledore's death, Harry had learned many things about battle, and many things about Tom Riddle. One of those things was that he knew how to fight, and he would never turn his back on an enemy to destroy another. No, Bellatrix was safe now, because Tom did not consider her a threat and because he would not give Harry even the remotest chance of gaining an upper hand.

In her corner away from him, Harry could see the fear intensify in her face as she stared at her former master. She knew the horrors of what he'd done in the past the things that might await her should Harry lose. He gave her a sympathetic smile when she looked his way. Her cruelty in this world meant that she deserved something, death perhaps, but no one could ever deserve such torture.

"Yes," Tom said, running his hands along his cloak, smoothing it down as if making it more presentable. Harry knew he was not showing a weakness, he was simply trying to compose himself for the duel that would soon be happening. He'd seen it so many times from within Tom's mind. Harry, meanwhile, reinforced his Occlumency shields again, for the fifth time since they'd stormed the fortress.

"You are correct of course, Harry. I will deal with such trivial things after I have removed your festering thorn from my presence."

Harry smiled and nodded, just slightly, acknowledging the thought. He knew how troublesome he could be. He readied himself in case Tom decided to quit talking and get on with the duel, but he would continue to push for more time. Ron and Hermione needed every bit of it to finish their mission.

"You know, Harry, I have seen his battle played out in your mind a thousand times. I have carefully removed any obstacles which might ever stand between you and I. The last one took care of itself. I noticed that Wormtail is no longer with us."

Harry nodded slightly once more, his mind racing to find something he could use to continue this verbal spar. Ron and Hermione were somewhere out there, trying to find Nagini. He'd have liked to have gone after her himself, but he needed the element of surprise for this duel, and he had suspected Tom knew when his Horcruxes passed beyond this world.

The question that remained in Harry's mind was if it would be a simple killing curse after that. He knew that was a foolish thought. Tom would not stand there and face the curse of death head on, for even with his famed immortality, he would be once more banished from his body. One of the few things Tom was afraid of in life was getting too near to death, should he be forced to live as a spirit once more, where only a single string would hold him here. No, Tom would not allow for that to happen.

"Yes, I had wondered if he'd ever pay that life-debt he owed me. He did though, went and threw himself in front of the Avada Kedavra curse for me. Well, it looked that way. I suspect he fell, though one can never be sure with him. Either way, it was an easy way out for him. Caught between you and I, there was very little left for him to continue existing for. I believe he finally realized he didn't have to be afraid of death, something you might do well to learn, Tom."

"Afraid of death, Harry? No, I am not afraid, but I do not want it. I feel my destiny lies elsewhere."

"You're not a god by any means, Tom. You'll never become a ruler of this place or any other. The magical world won't allow for it. Should you, by chance or force take them, the muggle world will still be in your way. They'll revolt and the empire you dream of will be razed to the ground as they once did to those they believed to be witches."

Warmth spread through Harry's chest from a coin that he had hanging on a chain there. Harry suppressed the urge to grin as he started concocting ways to kill Voldemort now. Nagini had passed on, Ron and Hermione had done their jobs. Tom noticed though, not that Harry was feeling better, but that he'd lost the last remaining piece of his soul. He knew he was alone now, and could just as easily die as any of the other Death Eaters.

"You," he hissed, so angry that he wasn't even speaking in English anymore. Harry knew him well enough to know this was a bad sign Tom's anger brought out a darkness that was more powerful than any other. However, no matter how powerful he became, it also blinded him, made him so single-minded that everything else would just disappear.

The link between them began to throb and Harry forced himself not to rub it, reinforcing his walls once more as he waited. If Tom was indeed that angry then perhaps he should push it further, and try and drag him into the middle of the battle beyond. In this room he could still hear the faint sounds of battle and now that Tom was mortal, anyone could kill him.

The Aurors would follow his command. He'd never finished school, and so he never had taken any Auror classes. It didn't seem to matter to them though, they believed in him. He supposed much of it had happened when Shacklebolt died, two years back. He'd been in the battle before they arrived and fighting off the Death Eaters and the werewolves they'd brought, he was alone at the time, defending a small playground with children huddled behind him in tears.

Of course, as always, the Aurors had come. A small contingent had managed to get through to Harry to help him save the children's lives, Shacklebolt among them. Harry knew the black Auror was a commander. Perhaps the only commander, monitoring and managing the battle through a communications device all Aurors wore on their arms. A stray curse had taken him down. No one had seen it coming and he'd dropped. It took a moment, but without someone in command, the Aurors quickly seemed to lose direction.

Harry, seeing what was happening, had done the only thing he could think of, taking Shacklebolt's communications unit and then command of the whole group of Aurors. When the battle was done and over with, Tonks had approached him. As the other Aurors watched, she clutched a pendant around her neck and bowed slightly, a sign of respect and thanks among their elite group. Many soon followed suite, and though few had said it then, Harry knew they would follow him to the bitter end if he asked it of them, and they had in the years since.

"Tom, you've degenerated to hissing and spitting already?" Harry chided, trying to anger him even more. He hoped it would work. All he had to do was lure him out of the room and into the battle, then call upon any nearby to focus on the evil man.

Nearby, something happened. Reality seemed to distort around Harry as a pulse of magic swept past them. Seconds later a second pulse passed, this one was so strong it literally threw Harry from his feet and into the wall behind him. He looked immediately to find that Tom had been similarly affected, though he seemed more at ease than he should be.

"Your Auror friends are dead now Harry," he said with a smirk on his face as he slowly regaining his footing. His wand never left Harry. "You tend to survive where they would not. It is good you have a shadow of myself within your mind, else you would have also been taken with them and I would not have the chance to kill you myself."

Chancing a glance at Bellatrix, Tom narrowed his eyes. "It is too bad you continue to bare my mark," he told her. "Your death would have been much easier had you died when that happened. Then again, perhaps you will be a prize to whoever managed to use that ritual during the fight. I hadn't thought any of them had it in them."

"What have you done, Tom?" Harry asked, an alarm going off in the back of his mind. Tom seemed so confident now, much more than normal. He would never looked away from Harry unless he was sure he would not lose.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, come now, you've seen some of my experiments. You know the darkness I've delved into. Can you not guess?"

"No," Harry whispered, suddenly horrified. "You can't have done it, you hadn't been able to complete it!"

"Don't be so naïve as to think you know all of my secrets, Harry. We may have an extraordinary bond, but we can keep secrets from each other. I know you've kept a tiny piece of your mind in the shadows, beyond where even I could see. You see, the ritual called for a certain type of death, slightly more gruesome than simply the killing curse. I did not understand this at first, but I did manage to discover it eventually. It did take a dozen tests before I could do it, but now, none are safe from my wrath."

Harry's mind panicked for a moment, refusing to believe the words coming from Tom's mouth. There was a ritual, so dark and evil that it had been locked away in the deepest, darkest place possible, where no one would look. No one knew where it had originated and it did not matter. The instructions would have been destroyed, but anyone that tried had died. So, they had built a fortress around them on an island away from any other living thing, naming it Azkaban. It had been a great place once, until it was reduced to a prison.

Only one race in the history of magic had used it with full success, the Aztec, and only for a brief period of time. It slaughtered their enemies in an instant, sweeping through them like the wind, taking with it the life of any that would be considered an enemy.

It was a difficult ritual based on what Harry had managed to see of it in Tom's mind. It required a great deal of control, so much control in fact that some of the races that he tried to use it had wiped themselves out. The Mayan's had tried, using knowledge they'd found, the same knowledge the Aztec had used many years later. But, they could not control the ritual and it had wiped out almost their entire civilization in a matter of minutes, a constant mystery to muggle archeologists.

Harry doubted that the ritual had much power compared to the one the Mayans priests had performed, but it was likely that what Tom said was correct and no one in the near vicinity lived except for Death Eaters.

"You've failed, Harry, killed all of them. You'll die here tonight knowing that they all died trying to do the impossible."

"No," Harry whispered, trying to hold back the great sorrow that filled him. His friends, his family, they were all that he knew, the people he loved and the only people that would ever understand him.

"I will find another way now that Nagini is dead. You do not believe that the Horcruxes are the only way I can gain immortality, do you?" Harry looked up to Tom, his anger bubbling to the surface. His wand hung limp though, for he knew he wouldn't have a chance if he raised it.

Above them, the ceiling shifted and Harry looked up, watching as the dust drifted down in the stillness of the room. Tom was so confident now, but Harry ignored it, using every second to try and think of a way to win. As his eyes took in the whole room once more, he noticed Bellatrix staring at him. There was something in her expression, as if she were trying to convey a thought. She glanced to Tom once, to the roof, then turned her gaze to Harry again, a pleading expression on her face.

Taking a chance, using only the simplest form of Legilimency possible to avoid being noticed, he peaked into her mind. Her shields were down and a scene flashed in front of him over and over again, a scene that gave him a tremor of hope. He blinked and pulled back, forcing himself to stay calm. His surprise at what she offered confused him, but he couldn't afford to be confused. He turned his eyes to Tom and steeled himself, then once more reinforced his shielding. He nodded, just enough for her to understand that he had accepted, but kept his eyes forward the entire time. "I think it is time Tom," he said quietly, "we shall find out if I truly do have some power that you do not understand."

At this point Harry could only watch as Bellatrix bolted from her position in the corner. Tom, sensing her movements, turned in surprise at her aggressiveness. Harry jerked sideways and aimed his wand at the roof, putting every ounce of power he could into a Reductor curse.

An explosion went off again, and dust filled the room as the roof overhead collapsed above Tom's head. The above area was storage for blood, and because of the vampires fanatic needs, no magic was used on the barrels of blood. They believed it tainted their food. So, the blood was stored in large, handmade, wooden barrels to give it a little extra spice of flavor. Of course, the floor had been made of several feet of rock to make sure it would not collapse on the floors below, as there was several tons of weight between the barrels stored there. However, the ritual had damaged it, and the charm that reinforced the floor.

His scar burst into pain for only a second, a pain so sharp it was as if death itself had come. Bellatrix screamed and beyond, Harry, could hear others screaming as well. Harry fell to his knees as his pain passed, watching as a few final barrels fell from their positions above, bursting on the ground and coating the room with another layer of red.

When it was finally done, he stood shakily. His body, weary from the hour long battle was barely able to move now that his adrenaline had gone. He almost didn't believe it was possible, there was no way the reductor curse had been the power previously spoken of in the prophecy.

Something moved and Harry's wand immediately centered on it, his heart racing, adrenaline starting to pump through his system again. He found himself absolutely horrified at the thought that Tom could have managed to survive again, and shook it away. There was no way his physical body could have survived such tremendous weight falling on him all at once.

Once again something moved and Harry watched carefully before realizing what it was. Bellatrix had survived, though her legs were crushed and she was pinned at the edge of the pile in the center of the room. Covered in blood and splintered wood she looked almost dead herself. She writhed a third time, clutching her forearm, but could go nowhere. Harry stared at her for a few seconds before making a decision and stepping towards her to help pull her out. As she saw him approach she froze and stared up at him. Harry doubted anything below her waist would ever survive even with magic, there was only so much it could do.

When Harry showed her his wand and pointed carefully at the rubble she shook her head and stared into his eyes again. She wanted something more and she had no voice to ask. Harry nodded and focused, which was difficult considering the situation, his insides were fighting over joy and sorrow, joy that Voldemort had finally been stopped and sorrow that it had taken so many lives to do it. Still, he was able to focus on her mind with the little willpower he had left.

Almost immediately he pulled back, and shook his head, refusing. He sat down on the ground in front of her exhausted. She stared, her eyes pleading for him to do it, when it suddenly occurred to him what the prophecy had meant. He did have a power that Tom had never understood. Dumbledore had been right to a point, though it hadn't exactly been love, but compassion. In what she thought had been the last moments of her life, Harry had given into it and saved Bellatrix's life. Then, minutes later, he'd felt sorry for her and what she would likely have to endure. She'd seen all of this, and she knew what would happen to her at her former master's hands.

Somewhere hidden deep down inside Bellatrix had existed a tiny bit of good, and she'd called upon it in those final moments of the battle, doing something she never would have considered before, offering herself up as sacrifice to kill Voldemort. It was likely something no one would have ever guessed would happen, but she'd done it. Perhaps she'd been afraid of what was to come and tried making some sort of desperate act of reparation before her death. Or perhaps there really was something there, and she truly was sorry.

The problem now was that she wasn't dead, and she lay in pain in front of Harry, probably only lucid because half her body was crushed under a ton of rock. She wanted this to end, to go on to whatever was next, no matter what she would face. She'd resolved to deal with it, and in her mind she asked Harry to help her continue on. She couldn't do it herself, and there was no way she'd be able to survive much longer in Azkaban, especially once the dementors returned. By asking for her death she was asking, in a way, for his forgiveness, a way to stop the torture ahead.

Emotions racked his body and quiet tears cut through his blood stained face as he looked at her, no longer sure how to proceed. She'd taken so much from him and there was nothing she could ever do to give it back. But she'd given others a chance to go on with their lives, to be at peace, and perhaps she'd saved lives too, hundreds even thousands. All she asked for now was death, an end to the tortured existence she led.

Finally making a decision, Harry stood, ignoring the pleading look in her eyes and walked out of the room. For a minute he paused in thought, almost changing his mind. He shook it away and bent down, retrieving a small pendant off the dead Auror that was just beyond the doorway. He turned again and entered the room, stooping next to her. With an odd movement a small point poked out of the medallion. "This is a poison," he said quietly, though it wasn't as if someone else could hear him. "Just jab yourself with it and it'll be quick and painless, you'll never even know its coming."

Carefully he placed it in her hand, not worried that she'd try and kill him, but making sure she had a firm grip on it so she could use it. She nodded, and he could see her trying to say something. He shook his head instead of trying to see her thoughts, he already understood what she was going to say. "It's alright," he assured her, "I'm sure that it won't be as bad as you imagine there. You'll be free of the chains that bound you here, perhaps you'll even get a chance to start over."

Bellatrix nodded once more and then closed her eyes, a stream of tears running down her face as she jabbed herself with the last of her energy.

As Harry stepped from the ruins of the fortress, covered in the blood of the dead, he did not see the Aurors outside who had managed to survive. He did not hear them calling to him in joy. He didn't hear them telling him that the few Death Eaters left had apparated away once the apparation ward had been destroyed. He only wondered if Bellatrix had believed his last words. He hoped they were true, perhaps she'd been able to redeem herself in the end.

• Finis •