A/n: Last chapter… and please read the whole thing. :\ I spent a while on this and it will be kind of confusing if you don’t read the whole thing.

Chapter Thirty Seven: Beat me to the Ground

Voldemort struggled to regain consciousness. He’s done this process before. Once his body died, he would travel to the Inter Universitas, the plane between the living and dead. Once he reached the plane, his spirit would pause before entering the plane of dead and become attracted back to the plane of living because of his Horcruxes. They would pull his spirit back to the nearest Horcrux before he could cross into the death plane.

But this was… not right.

His eyes opened and instead of looking down at the battle through the eyes of a wandering spirit, he was in a body. A rather familiar and small body.

Looking down, he blinked at his small body that looked oddly like he was eleven again. His teeth snapped together in a hiss and he surveyed his surroundings. The air was light, yet difficult to breathe in. Around him, there wasn’t a body or soul in sight. It was empty, it was desolate. He was leaning against a stone pillar, looking at the brilliant red train. The train was still, smoking slightly from under the track.

He was in the Inter Universitas. Somehow, he was stuck between worlds.

Fear and panic sunk in his chest as he struggled to sit up. He was always confident that his Horcruxes were anchored to the land, but what if they were all destroyed? What if they were destroyed without his knowledge? But that was impossible; he would have been destroyed entirely when that Avada Kedavra struck his body. He would have been in the land of dead now if that were the case. Not here. Not in between worlds.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the train, unsure of his next step. His magic was gone. He was a weak and vulnerable child once again. Would he be destined to stay in the Inter Universitas his entire existence? No… he would find a way out.

“Dumbledore,” Voldemort whispered childishly as he watched a form slowly make its way off the train. Almost if he were waiting for him. “I should have known you were the cause of this. You couldn’t just stay dead, could you?”

The old fool gave a grim smile toward Tom. “I’m afraid I have planned this far before I died. I have been waiting here since my death, waiting to guard over your soul. You won’t be able to go back to the wizarding world, Tom. Not as long as I’m here.”

Tom glowered, but he remained silent. He had to hand it to the old fool. It was a brilliant trick.

“You choose to sacrifice your own happiness to watch over me here? In this land of nothingness?” Voldemort contemplated. “I would think you were eager to join your dead sister in the other plane, no?”

Dumbledore’s face twisted slightly, his lips thinning for just a moment at the mention of his sister. “If it means the wizarding world will be absent of your presence, than I am ready to sacrifice myself to stop your spirit from going back in the land of living.”

Voldemort chuckled softly, his voice coming out in childish laughs. “And you honestly think Harrison won’t continue on with the battle? With winning the wizarding world? He’s my Match, he shares the same ideas as myself.”

The old fool calmly sat down on the stairs leading up to the train, his face oddly calm and composed. “As much as you think Harrison follows directly in your footsteps, I disagree. Harrison is his own person. He is not as sadistic or vicious as you are, Tom. I suppose, if I had to choose between who would lead, I would pick Harrison. You are far too cruel for the innocent men and women of the world.”

Voldemort just grinned. The old fool knew nothing of his Match.

But then Dumbledore sighed, his face twisting into remorse. “Alas, Harrison is a Seer and will cross over to save you.” Voldemort perked up at this, his small body struggling in this plane. Dumbledore caught Voldemort’s interest and gave a grim smile. “Seer are able to cross over to this plane, to this land between worlds. The good thing is, whatever the end result is, I win.”

“What are you speaking of, Dumbledore?” Voldemort sneered, although it didn’t come out as threateningly as he wanted it to.

“If Harrison indeed releases you from this plane successfully, I am able to destroy his soul. And in doing so, once you are back in the land of living, you will become insane, not able to live without your Match. And then there is the possibility that he doesn’t come. And you will stay here for eternity. I win either way.” Dumbledore gave a smile, his eyes twinkling.

“Ah,” Tom’s high voice gave a scoff. “You forgot about one other option, Albus.”

White eyebrows rose. “And what is that Tom?”

Voldemort growled softly. “You forgot the possibility that Harrison saves the both of us and escapes your… rather irritating clutches. He can destroy you.”

Instead of smiling, as Voldemort thought the old fool would, the man looked rather bleak. “I suppose that can be an option. But I find it rather impossible.” Blue eyes looked at Tom over his glasses. “I hope that Harrison stays away from this plane. I’m afraid no matter the outcome; he will be unable to leave this plane. If he kills me, he will be stuck here. If I kill him, he will have the fortunate outcome of cross the worlds into the land of dead. Perhaps then, he could see his mother.”

“You make no sense, fool.” Voldemort hissed.

Dumbledore nodded toward the far wall. Tom hesitantly turned toward the gesture, only to see a door that he hadn’t noticed before. It shimmered with Dumbledore’s magic, looking sealed and forever closed. “That can only be opened with magic.”

Tom glared at the door.

“Because you are not truly dead and because Harry would not be truly dead if he arrives, he won’t be able to use his magic. Simply because his magical core is still in his living body. He cannot bring his magic here. But I on the other hand, am dead. I have my magic with me. It’s rather a pity that it has to turn out this way.”

Tom stared at Dumbledore. “You make no sense.” He repeated angrily. “You said earlier that he could release me.”

“He can,” Dumbledore agreed.

Red eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then how can he release me if he can’t open the door? If both of us can’t open the door?”

“You do not have to go through the door. If I am killed, or rather, forced by Harrison’s hand into the land of dead, then you are released. Your spirit is tied with mine. I have to stay here in order to keep you here. If I leave this plane, I can no longer hold you here.” Dumbledore gave a grim smile. “Harrison on the other hand, has to enter and exit through that door. He will be forever locked in here. Granted, he can enter through the door, but never exit.”

Voldemort seethed. “He doesn’t even know this is happening.”

“Oh he does, Tom. You underestimate him. He’s Seen this in his visions. He knows what to do.”

Tom looked away from the old fool and toward the door again. If Harrison were to come through that door, he could never leave. Not unless he had magic to open the door, but that was impossible in this plane. He wouldn’t have his magical core with him. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had his magic. It was rather hard to believe that Harrison could destroy Dumbledore without magic. And even if he did destroy the old fool, forcing him to the land of death, Harrison could never be released from this place.

And Tom would be able toescape if Dumbledore were forced into the land of dead. But he would die without his Match. Over and over until all his Horcruxes were used up.

And then there was the other possibility. If Harrison were killed by Dumbledore. His Match would die, entering the land of death. And Tom’s outcome would be the same. He would either stay here, with Dumbledore for eternity, or Dumbledore would be sadistic and make him die over and over again until he was out of Horcruxes.

Either way, Tom would be stuck here, or die.

He hoped that Harrison wouldn’t even bother to come through that door. At least then, his Match would have a chance at life.

--SSC--

“You did it,” Harry rasped, staring at Octavio. The Lord of Mimes stared back at Harry and Voldemort’s vanishing form. Harry felt the body become lighter and lighter until he was holding only robes and ashes. Of course it was normal, for Voldemort had other Horcruxes here. Yet, he knew Voldemort would be stuck between worlds, never able to escape without Harry’s aid. “You killed him.” Harry spoke toward the Death Demon.

“I did. But I was aiming for you.” The wand in his hand was pointed downward. “Yet he saved you. Rather… unsuspecting.”

“Why?” Harry spat, the Mimes around him still. They blocked the way for Aurors and Unspeakables alike. “I saved you. I… I thought you’d heal from your hate.” He thought long and hard about the incident with Octavio after clearing out the ‘Seeds’. The Death Demon even looked semi normal, if not a little thin. But here was Octavio, his revenge still the forefront of his mind. Yet… the man still looked bored, as if he didn’t want to be here.

“I have no choice, Harrison.” Octavio murmured. “I was assigned a Master.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Death Demons were magical demons who were able to grant a Master’s wishe. Once the Death Demon agreed with their Master on the single task, they were magically bound until they completed it.

“Dumbledore.” Harry breathed, feeling his temper rise.

“Yes,” Octavio looked upward, his brilliant blue eyes dull. “I’ve been working for him ever since I came in your life. It was him that made me kidnap your father. When I first agreed to serve him for this task, I didn’t think twice. You were a Seer, my greatest enemy. Alas, you turned out to be different then all of them. But I couldn’t back down from his task. I was bound until both you and Voldemort died… or I.”

The Death Demon looked horrible and Harry felt a brief sting of regret. Octavio was a twisted individual who was played for a fool in his childhood. His mother killed herself because of a Seer and his father turned violent on Octavio once the Seer did his damage with the Seeds. Harry had tried his best to cure Octavio of his past shadows and traumatized events. But he was still held in the grasp of Dumbledore’s task.

“Merlin,” Harry breathed.

“I will make this a fair fight.” Octavio looked back down toward Harry, dark circles under his eyes. “My Mimes will not attack you. Perhaps… perhaps maybe you can kill me first.” He wasn’t thinking Harry could kill him; he wanted Harry to kill him… in order to end the task. “Before we duel, I want to thank you for what you did for me, Harrison. You are allowing me to rest peacefully now.”

Harry shook his head, knowing that Octavio already risked so much by staying away thus long. When a Death Demon was assigned a task by a Master, they were expected to complete that task. The longer they waited the more pain they were in. Physical and mental pain. They could never kill themselves, or stop their attempt at finishing the task until they or their prey were killed. How much pain was Octavio going through at the moment because of Dumbledore’s hold?

And Harry’s Seer saw exactly what Octavio was feeling. Not only was he hurt by the magical bond between Dumbledore’s task and himself, he was also devastated at what he had to accomplish.

This man killed Voldemort, his Match. Yet Harry was having trouble with the thought of killing off such a scarred individual.

“I do not fear death, my sweet Seer.” Octavio murmured. “After all, I am a Death Demon.”

“I-,”

“Avada Kedavra,” a voice spoke from behind Octavio, bringing him down. All his Mimes stilled and collapsed to the ground, their Master’s strings cut with his death. Harry blinked, seeing Pythia Zabini standing tall, her wand out.

“You amaze me, Harrison. You are the Dark Lord’s Match, yet you tend to have a light heart.” Pythia no longer had a strong air about her. Instead, she seemed deflated. Her son…

Harry looked away, catching sight of the battle. A large number of their allies seemed to be down, yet the light side was suffering just as much. “Let’s say we finish this war, my Mistress.” Harry murmured. “And then you can assist me with rescuing the Dark Lord.”

Pythia gave a small bow. “What do you have in mind, My Lord?”

Harry hesitated, staring at the wounded. “We have focused our Seer on our opponents. But what if you and I together focused on the entire light army?” Pythia gave a grin, holding out her hand toward Harry.

Without a thought, Harry gripped the hand, joining their fingers together. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, letting her know he was here, aware of her emotional pain of losing a son. He knew the feeling. He had lost a best friend, a lover, a brother, and a mother. He knew what loss was and he grieved for her. But she didn’t show her emotion. Harry couldn’t exactly feel it either. It was if she had known her son would die.

Knowing Pythia, Harry wouldn’t put it past her.

“Fear? Sadness?”

“Fear,” Harry breathed, blinking slowly at the light wizards.

“I do fear well,” Pythia agreed, taking a deep breath to compose herself. And then her eyes lightened and her posture straightened. Harry felt her Seer reach out and enclose around her enemies. Harry took it as his own signal and followed her in her footsteps. It was easier than directing happy thoughts toward the dementors. He was sure, if he had to fend off dementors again right now, he wouldn’t be able to do so.

Instead, he was focusing on all his own fear and giving it tenfold to his enemies.

The light wizards seemed to stumble with the onslaught of Seer emotion. Their faces crumbled and their limbs shook with the feeling of fear. The Death Eaters all seemed to pause, unable to understand what was so horrifying.

“Fight,” Harry roared, green eyes glowing. “Slaughter them!”

And because Harry looked a frightening sight, the Death Eaters pushed past their uncertainties and cut down a large amount of light wizards. Sweat beaded on Harry’s brow as he struggled to keep his Seer in grasp when everything was falling down around him. Pythia didn’t seem to have any trouble, her face clear of sweat and strain. Together, they succeeded in bringing down their enemies. They had no chance. Their fear was so high, their ability to fight and concentrate were nonexistence.

This was the reason why Seer were meant to be neutral.

Eventually, there were hardly a three dozen light wizards standing. “Kill them all.” Harry snapped, dropping Pythia’s hand and making his way over toward the survivors. They trembled and dropped to their knees, pleading with Harry to spare them.

The floor was full of dead bodies of every creature. Harry refused to look down, afraid he would see more of his friends dead. “My Lord?” A Death Eater inquired, motioning toward the kneeling light wizards. “Spare them or…”

Harry blinked at the few dozens of wizards and then down toward the ground. There, a few feet away, laid Draco. Blood soaked his robes from the dagger wound to his back. Eyes hardening, Harry looked up at the Death Eaters. “Kill them.”

He glided through the Atrium, watching nonchalantly as all the uninjured dark wizards and creatures went to their knees. They bowed their heads toward Harry, staying impossibly still until Harry deemed it necessary to stand. “You have all fought well.” He looked at no one, his mind seemingly in the clouds. His body was sore, yet he knew he had one last fight to accomplish. “It will take another few weeks, maybe months to alter this wizarding world to our liking. But we have won. And we have succeeded.”

Harry paused, looking down at the slack and dead face of Severus Snape. He swallowed and then turned toward Neville Longbottom. Riddle was looking out through Neville’s eyes, his stare intense. “All of you should rest and recover. I want a good few of you who are able to stay here, to stay guard. The rest of you should take the wounded back to the camp. You are dismissed.”

He turned away and motioned for Riddle and Pythia to follow him. Riddle took his precious time, a wide grin on his face. Harry ignored it until he exited through a dark hallway. He stopped, not very far from the Atrium. “Lose your grin.” Harry snapped at Riddle. “You can never be him.”

“And why not?” Riddle stepped closer to him.

“Simply because you have Longbottom’s magic. Useless. You are a tiny fraction of Voldemort’s soul. You could never come close to being him.”

Riddle shrugged. “I know.” Harry blinked. “He’s the master soul. He needs to enter one of his Horcruxes. But that doesn’t mean he can’t use me as his next Horcrux. He gets a part of me and in return, I get you.”

“As if you’d remember any of this when he molds in with you.” Riddle just grinned at him eerily. Harry ignored the Horcrux and turned toward Pythia. “I want to try to save him.”

“Save him?” Riddle interrupted. “What are you speaking of?”

Green eyes flashed in his direction. “Dumbledore’s soul has taken over the job of holding Voldemort’s soul in the Inter Universitas. He can’t leave when Dumbledore is standing guard.” Riddle looked slightly shocked, his crimson eyes wide. “Because I’m a Seer, I can transfer myself in between worlds and rescue him.”

“How are you going to do that without any magic?” Riddle shot back. “You’re not dead, thus you can’t take your magical core with you.”

“He has other means,” Pythia spoke up, reaching over and touching Harrison’s dagger at his belt. Riddle snorted, rolling his eyes upward. He didn’t think Harry could destroy Dumbledore without magic. Harry didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. Pythia ignored the Horcrux as well and grabbed Harry’s wrist, tugging him downward.

Harry complied, watching as Pythia calmly sat on the ground cross legged and moved Harry’s head on her lap. “Relax,” Pythia whispered, stroking Harry’s temples and hair. He allowed his body to lye on the ground and his head rest on Pythia. “You need to seek your Self out, Harrison. He can show you the way to Inter Universitas.” She bent down to kiss his forehead.

Harry glanced one last time as Riddle, seeing the Horcrux looking down at them with a veiled expression. He closed his eyes, trying his hardest to concentrate. The smell of death was strong in the Ministry and if he focused enough, he could smell the burning flesh coming from the level below. The evidence that pointed toward his murder of the Giants. Pushing all the death aside, Harry slowly relaxed with the help of Pythia’s soothing waves.

Rather quickly, he found himself no longer in his body, but back at his meditating place, standing across from Self.

“You seek the Inter Universitas.” Self whispered knowingly, eyeing Harrison’s dagger in his hold.

“Yes. And you can bring me there.”

“I can,” Self looked forlorn. “But you will discover death there.” Harry took a deep breath. “Is this what you really want? You do realize the consequences of each outcome, don’t you? Is death worth it if your Match will perish anyway?”

Harry remained silent. His fingers caressed his dagger and his eyes were at his feet. “I do know the consequences.” But Self said he would discover death there… would he die in attempt to save Tom? It didn’t matter. “I have to try.” He said out loud. “I have to try to save him as he did for me.”

Self’s green eyes were glowing bright as they studied Harry closely. “Even if you will discover death?”

“Yes,” Harry replied firmly.

Self held out a hand. Without hesitation, Harry placed his own inside the identical hand and allowed Self to pull him away from time and space. He closed his eyes, unable to keep them open with the quickness they were traveling with. Before he could comprehend it, they had stopped. His feet were on solid ground and he blinked open his eyes. In front of him, there was a door.

“You just need to go through the door.” Self said sadly.

“That’s Dumbledore’s magic,” Harry remarked as he smelt the familiar aura. “I… what is it doing there?”

“Would you like to know how it will turn out?” Self questioned. Harry remained silent, both of them already knowing the answer to that question. “Then you need to enter through that door without question.”

“You don’t approve of what I’m doing.” Harry turned to look at his Self’s face. The mirror image just gave a forbidding smile.

“If this is what your heart tells you to do, then you must complete this challenge.” Self slowly disappeared. “Good luck, Harrison.” And with that, the mirror image vanished.

Harry took a deep breath, facing the door once again. Through that door sat Tom, a child version of his Match. And there was also a half dead Dumbledore that refused to leave. This would be the last of the old man if Harry succeeded. If. There were too many chances in life, too many regrets and loss.

Surging forward, he opened the door to Kings Cross. Immediately his eyes landed on a forlorn Tom Riddle. His crimson eyes were locked with Harry, almost in a wistful expression. “Don’t shut the-,” Tom started, but the door shut behind Harry.

Voldemort gave a light sigh, his face gray. “You shouldn’t have come, my love.” The conversation wasn’t going the way his vision had gone. He supposed the situation always altered with every small change.

“You know I would.” Harry responded back, looking around the still train station. “What’s holding you here?”

Crimson eyes closed in exasperation. “Dumbledore. He’s around here somewhere, lurking about. When he dies, or crosses over to the land of death, I am able to go back to the land of living. Back into a Horcrux.” Voldemort’s voice sounded strain. “Did we win?”

“We won,” Harry agreed, his body tense.

Voldemort, with his eyes still closed, gave a small smile. “I knew you would succeed, my love.” Crimson eyes slit open. “But you shouldn’t have come here.” Voldemort looked torn. He was wearing the most expression Harry had ever seen him with.

“Why? You-,”

“Because you are unable to leave.” Dumbledore came striding from the train. “That door you entered will not allow you to leave without magic.” Tom, in the body of an eleven year old, looked like a pouting child as he glowered at Dumbledore. “You see, Tom’s soul is attached to mine. If I leave this plane, he is allowed to leave. He does not have to go through that door. You, on the other hand, Harrison, have no way out. No matter the outcome.”

Harry grinned, backing away slightly as Dumbledore approached. “So… what?” Harry drawled. “You think I should beg you to kill me so I don’t have to stay here for eternity?” His pulse was quick and heavy at the realization of Dumbledore’s words. He was stuck here. Forever. Even if he forced Dumbledore to the land of death, Tom would die eventually because Harry wasn’t near him. It all seemed worthless now.

He turned to look at the child face of Tom Riddle. The boy was adorable and rather cute. The only thing telling Harry this was his Voldemort were the wise crimson eyes looking back at him. No… no… this wasn’t worthless. He was doing it for Tom, he would fight for Tom.

“I’m thinking you would agree with me that would be the best option. I cannot kill Tom because he has Horcruxes back in the wizarding world, but you, I can kill you to make things easier.”

Harry considered this. “If I allow you to kill me… would you go with me and allow Tom back into the land of living?”

Dumbledore chuckled, looking at Harry as if he were slow. “Of course I will, my boy. But he will just die without you-,”

“Perhaps not,” Harry drawled, leaning against a pillar. “Matches aren’t very common. Who knows if the research is true that if one dies, the other immediately follows? Tom is a rather emotionless wizard; he could easily get by without his other half.”

The old man frowned, looking as if he were going to snap shortly. “The hard way, or the easy way, Harrison?” Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry.

“Why, I think that’s an insult.” Harry crouched down low, all his training from Keiran coming back to him fluidly. “What Malfoy ever does things the easy way?” And then Dumbledore attacked. The pillar right above Harry’s head exploded, sending rocks and rubble across the floor. Harry had rolled out just in time, his body quick on his feet.

This was going to be difficult, he had to admit. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, yet he wasn’t very underhanded.

Tom hissed from his position against the opposite pillar, glaring daggers at Dumbledore. Harry dodged another curse, feeling it whiz past his hair. His leg was still wounded, casing pain to shoot up his hip. But he pushed through it, pretending he was in perfect health.

He slid across the floor toward Dumbledore, twisting his body in a flip as the old fool cast another curse at him. It destroyed the floor where he was once sliding. He got on his haunches, lunging at the man. His dagger caught a large piece of flesh in the old man’s side, but his victory didn’t last long. Dumbledore gave a shocked gasp, throwing a heavy dose of magic toward Harry.

And he was cheating gravity as he flew through the air.

His grip was still on his dagger as he landed heavily against a stone wall, sliding down. Blood warmed the back of his head with the harsh collision against the wall. Looking up from the floor, he saw a crimson trail following his descending form. He gave a groan, his head thundering. Lying on the ground, face down on the powdery substance from the wall, he breathed in and out, focusing himself.

“Harrison,” Tom called out, sounding pathetically like a child who had lost his mother.

Giving a jolt, Harry looked up to watch through slit eyes as Dumbledore approached. Tom was standing up, his legs shaking, but his crimson eyes flashing with hate. Harry slumped against the floor as Dumbledore approached even closer. Lie low… lie low… be Slytherin. Be Voldemort.

His fingers made a show of trembling and his head fell back down to the floor. “It’s a rather unfair fight, but you knew that before coming here.” Dumbledore then looked between Tom and Harry. “Such love… who knew the great Lord Voldemort would experience such a thing with a sixteen year old boy?” Dumbledore looked rather saddened. “It’s a pity you had to turn out just like him.” He raised his wand, a deep frown on his face.

Tom screamed, his fists curled at his sides and throwing a childish tantrum. Harry tried to hide his grin at that, but failed. Dumbledore was going to kill him. But he had no intention to lay here. “You’re right, Dumbledore.” Harry breathed, watching the wand raise toward his fallen form. “I am like Voldemort.”

And with quickness that Dumbledore wouldn’t expect, Harry swiped his legs and hit the back of Dumbledore’s knees. The old man went down heavily and Harry lunged for Dumbledore’s wand hand, successfully slicing it off at the wrist. The appendage went flying and blood squirted. It was a gruesome sight but Harry didn’t bother to stand and savor it. Instead, he went for the killing stab to the chest.

But Dumbledore wasn’t done. He thrust his handless arm toward Harry, throwing a block of magic toward him.

Harry gave a startled yelp as he went flying yet again. This time, he was heading toward the train. With gritted teeth, his hands landed on the train’s roof and flipped his body over gracefully before he could crush into the side of the train. His feet quickly ran across the roof of the train and dropped own on the other side of the station. He was between the wall and the train, Dumbledore and Voldemort on the other side of the tracks. They couldn’t see him and he took that moment to become stealthy. A specialty Keiran taught him while he was training.

“You’re hiding now, Harrison?” Dumbledore breathed, his breath coming out in heavy gasps at the pain he must be going through. Harry ignored the man and slid downward, under the train and on the tracks. It was a small space, probably impossible for anyone else to be crawling down there. Steam also veiled his sights, but he knew where he was heading.

A small distance away from where he last crawled, the train seemed to come down on the track. If he had been there, it would have crushed him. “Bastard,” he heard Tom throw a fit. “You bloody bastard.”

Harry grinned as he crawled over the tracks, scraping his back on the train’s belly. His dagger was still crushed in his fist, stained with Dumbledore’s blood.

He was nearing the end of the station, his pit stop. Slowly and quietly, he slid from out of the train and peeked up over the edge of the platform. Dumbledore stood tall, his eyes uncertainly on the fallen train. Tom, on the other hand, stared straight at him. Harry quickly crawled out of the tracks and hid behind a pillar. His breathing was silent and his feet were soundless. Giving a quick glance, he inched closer to the Headmaster from behind.

Tom, eyeing Harry, slowly turned his back on his approaching form and advanced near Dumbledore. “Is he dead?” Voldemort spoke with a harsh quality. “Did you kill him?” Voldemort then continued forward toward the train, drawing Dumbledore’s attention with him and away from Harry’s form.

And it was Harry’s chance to pounce.

With a wicked smirk, Harry drew closer, his dagger fisted loosely, expertly.

His calm fingers reached out to tap Dumbledore on the shoulder. The man turned around sharply, only to slice his throat on Harry’s dagger. A kill.

Blue eyes widened and he dropped to the floor at Harry’s feet. “This time, stay dead.” Harry rasped. Dumbledore’s form disappeared, no doubt heading toward the land of dead.

Harry slumped to the ground, his dagger a slippery weapon of blood. Tom crawled up toward him, his small body maneuvering and seemingly becoming cloudy. “I’m not leaving you,” Voldemort growled. He crawled up on Harry’s lap and encircled his arms around his neck. The Dark Lord buried his face in Harry’s neck, nuzzling him… his customary gesture after they made love.

“You need to leave,” Harry said dully. “I… I know you are able to live without me. Your soul is split so much.”

Voldemort pulled away, a deep frown on his face. “You fool, I’m not leaving you.” He leaned forward and kissed Harry’s jaw. It was odd… having a small boy on his lap… kissing him. If it were any other time, Harry would have pulled away in disgust. Instead, he tightened his sore arms around Tom, squeezing him close.

“You’re already disappearing,” Harry pointed out sadly. “Your Horcruxes are drawing you back to land.” He blinked back desperate tears. He would be here alone… forever. Unless… “I can kill myself.” Harry pointed out. “I can’t stay here forever, I’ll slit my throat like I did-,”

Small fingers grasped his jaw. “You will not,” crimson eyes burned into his gaze. “You will not. I will find a way to get you back here.”

--SSC--

Pythia gave a deep sigh, opening her eyes. Her fingers were still caressing Harrison’s temples. Slowly, she looked up at Neville Longbottom. “You need to kill me.”

Longbottom blinked his crimson eyes and then narrowed them. “Excuse me?” The Horcrux hissed.

“I will not harm your Match, I am helping him.” Pythia looked straight at the Horcrux, her chin up. “Kill me and I will help him.”

The Horcrux slowly took out his wand. Without much regret, he shot an Avada Kedavra at her.

--SSC--

Harry and Voldemort were staring at each other, waiting for the moment in which Tom was pulled fully away from him. “I will find a way.” He spoke again. Harry just grinned at him, fingering his dagger.

“Take care of my niece or nephew, Tom. And my father. He’ll be alone.”

Voldemort grimaced at the prospect of looking after a child and a grown adult. “You will be there to do it yourself, love.” His voice was becoming grainy, and his form was slowly losing its visible features. He attempted to grab Harry’s hand, but it slipped right through. The Dark Lord hissed lowly, eyes flashing.

“You better hurry and leave the plane.” A voice stated behind Harry.

Quickly turning, Harry opened his mouth in question when he saw Pythia Zabini standing near the open door. “Pythia?” Harry questioned uncertainly. She was dressed in a beautiful gown, her hair flowing down her back. She had a wide smile on her face as she motioned Harry toward the door. “How?” He paused, feeling himself start to tear up. “You… you died? Did he kill-,”

“No, Harrison.” Pythia shook her head. “I asked him to kill me. I’ve Seen this outcome; I knew it was my time.”

“But you said Seer never see their deaths.” Harry stumbled up, Tom staying on the ground. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t See my death, only your outcome. You would have been abandoned here. Your Match would have gone insane.” Pythia breathed lightly. “I knew I had to save you, Harrison. I once told you that I do not fear death. And I don’t. I get to be with my son once again.” Harry stopped before her, feeling her warm presence. He didn’t stop the tear that slid down his cheek. “Don’t cry my student.” Pythia smiled sadly, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek.

“You were like a mother to me,” he whispered hoarsely.

Pythia smiled once more, opening her arms to burry Harry inside her embrace. “And you were like a son to me, Harrison. That is why I sacrificed myself for your happiness.” Harry buried his head on her shoulder, tightening his own hold on her. “You were a brilliant student for me, Harrison. And you gave my son the friendship he’s always craved. Please accept my gift to you.”

Harry pulled away slightly, looking into her brilliant blue eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Pythia smiled gratefully and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I hope you will teach the young Seer who approach you. You will be a good teacher, a good leader, and a good lover.” Her hand caressed his unruly hair. “And last, but certainly not least, you will be a loving uncle. Your brother loved you deeply.” Harry nodded, too choked do say anything intelligent. “Go through the door, Harrison. Your life has just started.”

Their hands clasped and Pythia brought up and kissed Harry’s knuckles. “Will you be waiting for me on the other side?” Harry questioned.

“Of course I will be.” Pythia smiled. “I love you my son.”

Her form vanished.

Harry stared at the vacant spot, feeling lighter, yet far sadder than he ever had before. Turning to look over his shoulder, he eyed the now spotless Kings Cross and the empty spot in which Tom had sat at. The door was still open, a warming light pooling out from it.

Giving a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway.

--SSC--

Harry gave a sharp twitch, waking up. He was back on the floor of the Ministry, the Atrium visible down the hallway. Pythia’s corpse was lying peacefully on the ground near his head, her face split in a genuine smile. He would give her a royal burial, along with her son and Draco.

“You’re awake,” a voice hissed out.

Harry sat up slowly, turning to stare at the form crouching near him. It was no longer Longbottom, no longer Riddle, but a new face of Lord Voldemort. He looked younger than he had previously, about late twenties. He no longer had long hair, but short and neat. He looked nothing like Neville and everything like a young Tom Riddle.

Harry grabbed the Dark Lord’s face and gave him a sloppy kiss. The man growled lowly into the kiss, pushing Harry back down on the ground. “It’s you?” Harry asked breathlessly, staring up at crimson eyes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Voldemort smirked, amused. “It’s me. Just… appearing a few years younger.” He smiled softly down at Harry. “You did a brilliant job with Dumbledore up there. Who knew the Light Lord could be defeated by a muggle weapon?”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling at ease. “Don’t underestimate assassins, Tom.”

The man grimaced, leaning down to kiss him yet again. Pulling back crimson eyes searched him. A long and pale hand laid itself on Harry’s cheek. “Are you ready to alter the wizarding world to our liking, love?”

Harry smiled, reaching out his hand and enclosing it in Voldemort’s.

“More than ready.”

Epilogue

The waiting room was silent. Harry laid his back gracefully against the wall next to the Dark Lord Voldemort and smirked over at the others waiting. Sirius was tapping his fingers against his knee, looking everywhere but at the door. Remus was trying his best to not allow Sirius’ fidgeting to bother him, but moments later; he snapped his fingers around Sirius’, stopping the tapping.

“Does this make me his cousin three times removed?” Sirius grounded out, breaking the silence.

“Who said it was a ‘he’?” Regulus insisted. The vampire’s skin was angrily scarred from the fire, but his green eyes were back to their mischievous selves. “I suppose we are getting rather old, aren’t we, brother?” Sirius threw the vampire a look.

“You don’t bloody age.”

Harry gave a small grin as he watched Keiran slowly move his hand down Regulus’ arm to entwine their fingers. The two were a couple, shocking Harry senseless when he found out. It didn’t really surprise him, but it surprised him that the two assassins would act on their feelings after years of being emotionless. Nonetheless, he was ecstatic that they were together. Keiran’s feelings for Harry seemed rather null when around Regulus.

“You’re going back to the Assassins Guild tomorrow?” Harry insisted toward his Master. Ever since the battle, seven months ago, the assassins had stayed close, helping both Harry and Voldemort organize their new society. It was very helpful and they still remained in the shadows, unnoticed by the people of the wizarding world. The werewolves, mostly Fenrir’s close pack members, took over a good portion of forest in the lower half of Britain. The other werewolves, who decided to remain in society, were given the same rights every wizard held. There was no discrimination, no prejudice.

Muggles were out. All of them. There were never any muggle involvements with the wizarding world. Halfbloods and muggleborns were closely monitored in what they revealed to their muggle parents. Those parents were sworn to secrecy, their mouths unable to voice the wizard’s secret to anyone.

The Ministry was run mainly by Lucius Malfoy, who was currently sitting near the end of the waiting chairs. Lord Voldemort chose to stay away from paperwork and be an active force around the wizarding Britain. He always dragged Harry along with him, never seemingly separated. Not that Harry complained. He was Voldemort’s logical mind. The man had a temper that could easily ruin their carefully crafted society and Harry was there to cool it with his Seer… or… a rump in the bed.

And the best thing about their new society… the dark arts were legal. Granted, the Unforgivables were illegal to cast in Hogwarts and on people, but they were allowed to be cast. There was no longer a split between dark and light wizards. They were who they were having no discrimination.

“We are,” Keiran nodded sharply. “But we will be visiting from time to time. Regulus and I just need to focus on reconstructing the Guild. There will be no Akira’s men dirtying up the society.”

Voldemort gave a sniff, almost bored with everything. “When will this cease? How long does it take to give birth to a little devil spawn?”

Harry raised his eyebrow at his Match, sneering lightly. “The devils spawn? That’s my niece or nephew you are speaking of.”

Voldemort didn’t look ashamed, instead, he was amused. “My point exactly.”

Harry glowered. “No sex for you tonight.”

“It was your night to ride anyway.” Voldemort hissed in laughter. “Tomorrow night is my night to thrust you into the mattress. By all means, let’s skip tonight.” Harry threw the man a look, eyeing the silver ring on the man’s finger. It had an onyx jewel in the middle. It was meant to be Harry’s wedding band, yet Voldemort wore it on his left index finger right above his own wedding band.

Harry grinned softly, fingering the Slytherin locket around his neck. He wore Voldemort’s Horcrux. And Voldemort was wearing Harry’s. His wedding ring, a symbolic gesture when Voldemort presented it to him, was turned into his Horcrux. That didn’t mean Harry was ringless. No, Voldemort was far too possessive to have Harry ringless. He wore a simple silver band instead.

“You’re a grandfather today, father.” Harry spoke up, startling the other visitors. “How do you feel about that?”

Silver eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave Harry a small grin. Their relationship was rocky in the beginning, but it was more than natural now. “Like Black said. I feel old.”

“You don’t look it, father.” And Lucius didn’t. He was still timeless. Although he had a few dark shadows in his eyes, Lucius looked just as prim and proper as he had ten years ago. Harry was positive Narcissa would be the same; more beautiful as the years went on.

“Master?” A young boy questioned from down the corridor. “Will we be meeting today?”

They were all standing in Voldemort’s and Harrison’s manor. In the door behind them, Pansy Malfoy was giving birth to Draco’s child. Only the best Healer was in the room with her, making sure there were no failures.

Harry pushed off from the wall, giving a contemplative glance toward his student. The boy was a few years younger than himself with bright gold eyes. A Seer mark stained his cheek, looking almost full-fledged. “No, but I do expect you to keep meditating.” The boy, Alexander, gave a sheepish smile, bowing quickly at the waist and running back toward the main entrance way.

Giving a small grin at his pupil, Harry went back to leaning against the wall. It was his second Seer student. They were incredibly rare, but Harry’s name had been spread around the continent as a decent Seer and teacher. Harry followed Pythia’s footsteps when it came to teaching new students. Be firm, yet conceding at the same time.

Crimson eyes held his stare, obsessively drinking him in. No words were needed between the two.

And then a baby’s cry broke the silence.

And then another.

Lucius and Harry locked eyes and both spoke at the same moment. “Twins.” Lucius looked rather pale while Harry grinned excitingly. It was rare, twins. And it was even rarer that Malfoy’s had twins. It was rather ironic that Draco’s wife had twins… almost if his brother was watching over them all.

Harry slowly entered the room, eyeing Pansy Malfoy upon the bed. She was glowing, yet looking exhausted. “Is everything alright? How are you doing?” Harry questioned both Pansy and the Healer. He watched as the Healer wrapped the twins up in one blue blanket and one pink blanket. A girl and a boy…

“More than fine, Harrison.” Pansy smiled softly, her hair damp and her face red. “Please… welcome Cissa Pansy and Abraxas Draco.” Harry gave a bitter smile as he heard the female’s name. His hands reached for the female and cradled her to his chest. Brilliant silver hair… a beautiful girl to carry Narcissa’s name. She blinked up at him, revealing brilliant green eyes. He faltered, staring down at her. She slowly closed her eyes once again, sleeping.

A Seer. Another Seer in the family.

Before he could think more deeply into the subject, Abraxas Draco was placed in his opposite arm. The boy was adorable with dark hair, possibly from Harry, possibly from Pansy. Yet, Abraxas had silver eyes. The baby looked remarkably like Draco… it was if his brother were peeking up at him.

“They’re both beautiful.” Harry whispered, looking up at a smiling Pansy. “Just beautiful.”

“Thank you, Harrison.” Pansy spoke tiredly, yet gratefully. Harry grinned at his father, motioning for him to take the twins. The man still looked as if he had seen a ghost as he accepted the children, yet a small smile appeared on his face. Hopefully with his grandchildren, he can be the father he always wanted to be.

The other Black men and Lupin and Keiran came in the room, leaving Voldemort to glower in the doorway, bored. Harry smiled at his lover, making his way over. “Don’t seem to excited to see your niece and nephew.” Crimson eyes twitched at the title. Harry chuckled lowly, grabbing the Dark Lord’s collar and bringing him down for a kiss.

Voldemort hisses softly, tugging Harry out the room and into the abandoned hallway. His long arms wrapped around Harry, pulling him close. “Remember that day you were kidnapped and taken into custody at the Ministry?” Voldemort insisted softly.

Harry thought back to the war, specifically the incident Voldemort was hinting at. “Yes, why?”

“You told me something mentally before cutting me out of your head. It was a confession of sorts… what did you say again?” Voldemort pressured, staring at Harry.

The smaller wizard flushed lightly, knowing exactly what he had said to Voldemort through their link. He flashed the man a suspicious look. “I said I love you.”

Voldemort hummed, leaning down to kiss Harry on the lips. “Right back at you, love.” It was his way of confessing his love. Perhaps not entirely romantic, but the most romantic Harry would hear from him. He smiled into the kiss, tightening his hold on his Match. The kiss grew deeper and Voldemort bit through Harry’s bottom lip. “Did you really mean what you said about no sex tonight?” The Dark Lord inquired, a deep frown marring his face.

Harry tipped back his head and laughed, taking Voldemort’s hand in his own. He tugged the man down the hallway.

“Let’s settle that craving, old man.”

End.

A/n: Big note. I want to thank every one of you who had continued this story with me and reviewed. It was a long ride, no? Almost a year… and it was my longest story I have every written. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I do want to say that all of your reviews were read and appreciated by me. Even though I may not have responded to them, just know I was thankful for your support through this story.

Love you all! ;)