Summary: In which Harry Potter travels through time.
An: This is a gift for the Valentine's day exchange! I hope you enjoy it wynebat, I'm sorry it's so late… I am horrible with time limits and deadlines. Thanks for being so understanding!
A lot of the dialogue and the descriptions are from The Deathly Hallows in this chapter, if you recognize it, it isn't mine and I do not claim it. Same with the characters, you know who it is? Well they aren't mine.
Oh and by the way...This is a slash fanfiction, you don't like it don't read it! You have been warned.
Harry was going to be sick. The contents of his last meal, whatever it had been he didn't remember, sloshed around in his stomach. I might as well throw up now instead of latter. Die with dignity and all that. His stomach churned again but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Screw it; I will puke all over the bastard. With that thought he stomped through the trees, he didn't have much time left.
He had been given one hour and he used every minute of it trying not to break down, because he knew he would go to Voldemort as soon as he had heard the message. Harry Potter, ever the hero. His fate was sealed as soon as he looked at the other Hogwarts students. Broken, burned, and battered. They looked at him with nothing short of desperation. Harry could only imagine what they had been through while he was away. How could he do anything but protect them?
If it meant his life, so be it.
The long game was over, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air… The Snitch. He fumbled at the pouch around his neck and pulled out the tiny golden ball. I open at the close. He finally understood, and time sped up as he pressed his lips against the metal and whispered "I am about to die."
The metal shell broke open like a walnut but he still couldn't see what it contained. Trembling he raised Draco's wand and cast "Lumos." It was the Gaunt ring. It was the Resurrection Stone.
The former Horcrux burned like a cold fire in his palm. Remembering the story of the three brothers he deftly twisted the stone and his chest tightened when he saw his family, his mother, father, Lupin, and Sirius. They all smiled at him, looking young and healthy. It was how they would have been if not of the damned prophesy. If not for me as well.
"You've been so brave." Lily said as she hungrily drank in the sight of her son. Harry gorged himself on her image, burning it to memory and thought he could look at her forever and be content.
"You are nearly there," said James "Very close. We are… so proud of you." Harry didn't know if James was proud of him dying or for living so long. The only question he could form was-
"Does it hurt?" Harry rasped out and his stomach twisted into knots again.
"Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep."
"And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over," said Lupin. The words were a true comfort to hear.
"I didn't want you to die," Harry blurted out. "Any of you. I'm sorry-" He turned to Lupin and his stomach twisted again, but this time with guilt. "-right after you had your son… Remus, I'm sorry-"
"I'm sorry too." Lupin said sadly "Sorry I will never know him…but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life." The guilt that welled up made him feel sick again. His whole body was shaking.
"You will stay with me?" he asked.
"Until the very end," said James.
"They won't be able to see you?"
"We are a part of you," said Sirius. "Invisible to everyone else." Harry turned to look at his mother.
"Stay close to me," he said quietly, and started moving again. The chill the lingering Dementors left lessened as his family drew near and feeling slightly better they all marched on together.
Harry clutched his Cloak tighter around him like a security blanket and wandered through the forest, seeking his death. He almost wished Voldemort had been more specific on where he was. Before long he heard a thud and a whisper and he froze in place.
Death Eaters, two of them just a few feet away "Someone there," came a rough whisper "He's got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be-" Yaxley and Dolohov. They came around a tree, looking right past the ghosts that surrounded him.
"Definitely heard something," said Yaxley. "Animal d'you reckon?"
"That head case Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here," said Dolohov, glancing over his shoulder.
Yaxley glanced down at his watch "Times nearly up. Potter's had his hour. He's not coming." He sounded like he hadn't expected anything else. Harry was so offended he wanted to toss aside the cloak and say "Here I am, surprised?"
Dolohov sighed and shook his head "And he was sure he'd come! He won't be happy." There was a small bit of worry in his tone; Harry couldn't blame him, Voldemort tended to shoot the messenger.
"Better go back," said Yaxley. "Find out what the plan is now." Dolohov nodded and they started away. Harry did know if he should curse or bless his luck as he started after them.
As they walked Harry realized with a start that he knew this place, the bits of web on the trees gave it away. They were going into the spiders den. Harry shuddered as he remembered the last time he had been here and gazed at the place Aragog had wound his giant web. There were bits of it still hanging down; the spiders though were long gone.
His eyes didn't linger on the webs; he quickly turned his attention to the rows and rows of Death Eaters around a large bonfire. Many of them were still masked, others showed their faces, but all were silent. Some of them were injured, Harry thought with satisfaction as he saw the great blond Rowle dab at his bloody lip. He spotted the Malfoys next, they looked as sick as he felt.
No one was looking his way though, they were all watching Voldemort. He stood with his head bowed and his chalk white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still at the edge of the scene, thought absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek.
Behind his head Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo. Coiling and swirling and watching everything from her unique angle.
Voldemort only looked up when Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined the circle.
"No sign of him my Lord," said Dolohov. Voldemort's expression didn't change, but his ruby eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. He slowly drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.
It was Bellatrix, her face was bloody but she looked unharmed. He doubted the blood was hers and the thought made him gag a bit. Voldemort raised a hand to silence her and like the obedient servant she was did not speak again. The hero worship never left her eyes and he was reminded of the first time Ginny Weasley looked at him when she was eleven. He threw the idea away as soon as he thought it, Ginny was nothing like Bellatrix.
"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in that high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come." No one dare say anything. They were as terrified as Harry was. Every instinct he had screamed at him to run, but he forced himself to stay still and slowly pulled his cloak off of his body. It took everything he had not to start shaking. His heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. He stuffed the cloak into his pocket, and a minute later his wand followed, he didn't think he could resist attacking when- when- he swallowed heavily.
"I was, it seems… mistaken," said Voldemort.
Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster. He didn't want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped out from between his fingers and out of the corner of his eye saw his family disappear. Voldemort looked over at him.
For a moment it was just the two of them, starring at each other from the two sides of the fire. The rest of the world was gone and they were alone for a few heartbeats. Then all hell broke loose. The giants roared, the Death Eaters rose with cries, gasps, and even laughter. Voldemort stood frozen, like a figure made of marble as Harry moved toward him.
"HARRY! NO!" It was Hagrid. The half giant was tied to a tree and making a valiant effort to tear the thing down.
"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH-?"
"QUIET!" Shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand Hagrid fell silent. The other Death Eaters all stared in-between their master and his mortal enemy. Bellatrix's bosom heaved eagerly as she stared, and Nagini coiled in her magical cage. Otherwise all was still.
Voldemort tilted his head to the side, the movement very birdlike. He looked his opponent over before a mirthless smile crossed his lipless mouth.
"Harry Potter," he said very softly, "The Boy Who Lived." No one dared to move, not even Voldemort whose head was still tilted to the side, like a curious child who wondered what would happen if he proceeded. He raised his wand. Harry stared into his eyes all the while; trying desperately not to betray the fear that was twisting his stomach to bits and making his heart try to race out of his chest.
He saw Voldemort's lips move, heard the words distantly as if from a great distance and something in him screamed "NO!" as the green light closed the distance between them. A white light emitted from his skin and surrounded him with its warmth, taking the full brunt of the killing curse. There was a horrifying scream from somewhere, and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck went up. The light surrounded Harry, the green battling the white and vice versa, growing closer and closer to his skin before sinking into it.
Magic invaded his senses and entered every inch of his body. Every part of him buzzed with power, and for a split second he felt invincible. But then the magic turned on him and with all its strength yanked. Harry felt as if he was going to be torn into a million pieces as every particle in his body tried to pull itself apart. Harry shut his eyes and screamed.
Suddenly it stopped.
Sunlight caressed his skin, a warm breeze ruffled his untidy hair, and somewhere off in the distance a bird sang a cherry tune. I must be dead then. He thought and relaxed, finally daring to open his eyes and took in the scenery around him.
He was in a place very much like the forbidden forest, but this was different, this place hadn't been ravaged by war. It was beautiful. Perhaps it was heaven? Could he dare to hope that it was?
"Who are you?" Harry froze and slowly turned to look behind him. It was another man, about his age, black hair slicked back, black eyes glittering with hidden emotion, a small confused frown across his thin lips. Harry was sick again. He knew that face, it had haunted his nightmares many times in place of his older self's.
"Tom Riddle." He choked out and the other man frowned.
"How do you know my name?" Harry couldn't answer. His body started to tremble badly and he couldn't find the strength to stand any longer. He fell to his knees and clutched at the emerald grass. It's not possible, it's just not possible.
"I demand an answer, how do you know my name." Harry looked up at the teen, his black eyes were narrowed and his thin lips were even thinner in his anger. There was no recognition in his eyes; he didn't know Harry even though he was sure the dark wizard would. I was prophesized to murder you and you have forgotten me?
Tom moved in front of him, his shoes were in perfect order.
Harry felt the smooth polished wood of his enemy's wand against his neck. "I will not ask again, who are you and how do you know my name?" There was truly only one thing he could do at that point.
Harry threw up all over his shoes.