Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Rating: T, maybe later M

Pairing: Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter

AN: I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm still not feeling all that great. I don't have a lot of energy to write right now, but hopefully I'll be feeling better soon. Thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews, they mean a lot, even if I don't reply to all of them I still read them all, so thank you!

BTW cliffhanger ending and probably a bit of a surprise and some of you might hate me for it

He hadn't been so angry in months, but Harry had forgotten how utterly self-centered and possessive Voldemort had been. While insane, when he was not; it was a trait that stayed no matter how much his mind deteriorated. Maybe he would have to work with the man later, but for now, he wasn't even going to touch that ring.

And then there was the mark Malfoy had left on top of that; while mostly harmless it was an annoyance, itching deeper than skin, and making him want to tear someone's throat out. It had been awhile since he had felt that strongly.

To top that all off, it was the week leading up to break, and it was chaos; candies and pranks and mistletoe, each day only getting worse. Normally, Harry would have loved it, but not this year.

Something bad was going to happen.

He could feel it in his bones, something was going to happen, and he would probably hate himself for it.

Maybe he was just being paranoid.

It was snowing now as well, the castle itself getting colder, and he went between shivering and sluggish and being half asleep with heating charms on. Even the professors noticed; and if he heard either, 'Mister Potter, you better be staying awake', or 'Do you have heating charms on, I can put some on you if you don't know how', one more time, he would go mad. He may not be a snake, but his body sure thought it was.

It wasn't all bad though, and even if it had been, it was almost Yule. No matter how irritated everything seemed, there was the thought of doing that ridiculous magic that kept him going.

Harry was bringing Tom Riddle's soul back.

It had nothing to do with the man whose soul it belonged too, but the fact that he was bringing a soul piece back, and if it worked he would be smug for weeks. He was already looking forward to getting slapped by Hermione half a dozen times for being annoying, because that meant he had really done it.

If Death wanted to play games with him, then he would play games with it.

Besides, if that was what Luna said he needed to, there was a pretty good reason to do so.

He was walking to Hagrid's care for the magical creatures class, when the thought occurred to him that he listened to the every word the women in his life said as though they were the words of the gods.

It gave him a good laugh. He laughed even harder when he saw Malfoy eyeing him for a moment before walking faster ahead of him. He was also alone.

"Wait up, Draco," Harry called out, and Malfoy warily slowed. He flashed him a grin, only ruined by his shivering. He probably looked pathetic.

"What do you want?" Malfoy said, and he shrugged.

"I don't know, just thought it would freak you out."

The blond boy glowered at him, but said nothing.

"Your father is a bit creepy, actually, now that I'm thinking about it," Harry said, snuggling into his robes in an attempt to stop shivering.

Malfoy gave him a look. "From what I've heard, you should be looking in the mirror, Potter."

He glared at the blond, "Excuse me? I'm not the one sleeping with minors."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, poking him in the chest. "You basically hunted him, seduced him, and then fed on-"

"He is not innocent," Harry hissed, "He could have easily ignored me but-"

"Potter," Malfoy groaned, "Why are we even talking about this? Did you need someone to irritate? Or is this actually important to you? I don't actually want to talk about you and my father right now, contrary to what you think. Or talk to you, for that matter."

Harry pouted, kicking the other boy in the shins, and hurried away, ignoring Malfoy's call of, "Fuck you, Potter!"

When he arrived down at Hagrid's cabin, Hermione and a few other students were already there waiting. Hermione was glaring at him, and he smiled brightly at her.

"Where were you?" She hissed, when he made it down to where she was standing.

"Relax, 'Mione, most people still haven't even got down here yet. I'm cold too, you know," Harry hissed back at the end, "I'm pretty much a snake in my feelings about winter. I'm fighting instincts here."

Hermione looked fascinated. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Harry muttered. "I was fine before it started snowing this much, but now everything's colder including me, and heating charms make me sleepy."

To his surprise, she burst into laughter, holding onto his shoulder to keep from falling over. Harry stared at her in alarm.

"Oh Harry," She said, gasping for breath, "I don't even know what to say to that."

He glared at her jokingly, and was about speak when the door to Hagrid's hut opened, and Fang burst through, barking loudly.

"At least the skrewts are hibernating," Harry grumbled. "Those things really wanted to eat me, stupid insect things."

"Do you know what we're doing next?" Hermione whispered, and Harry shook his head.

"Don't remember, it's been over ten years, you know?"

Hermione's wide eyed expression of shock dimmed.

"What is it?"

"Forgot you were old," Hermione said, and his expression soured.

"I wasn't old," He muttered, "I'll have you know I was in my prime-"

Hermione broke into loud laughter again, and a strangled noise came out from his throat.

"Really," He stressed, "I was in my twenties, thank you very much."

She patted him on the back, "Why are you getting so huffy about it then?"

"Huffy?" He squeaked, causing some of the other students to stare at them, "I'm not - huffy."

"Oh, Harry," She said, laughing again, "Is age hard on your ego?"

"Considering I had still looked seventeen by that time, albeit a very hot seventeen after my lamia blood woke up, yes," Harry said. "Everyone was getting older, and I was staying exactly the same. I'm a bit ashamed to say it, but I pushed people away because of it."

"I see," Hermione said, and suddenly their conversation wasn't so funny.

"Oh, don't think too hard on it, Hermione," Harry said. "It really wasn't so bad. Besides, I was pretty well distracted anyways with-"

She put a hand up, "I don't need to know," And Harry smirked.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now," He said, "As long as whatever Hagrid had in store for us isn't out for my blood again, I'll be happy."


Wincing, Harry collapsed into the seat, trying not to look at his stern toned friend. He knew all of this was his fault in the first place, but Harry suddenly wished he hadn't said anything at all.

"It was really stupid - I should have dealt with it days ago, but I just didn't want to deal with it, you know? He really made me angry, Hermione."

Her gaze didn't soften, instead eyes becoming chips of ice. He hadn't seen his friend this angry in a long time. "So you ignored the horcrux capable of possession under your bed, and didn't think to put it somewhere safe?"

Harry's eyes shut tight, and something close to nausea gripping at his stomach. In retrospect, it had been a really bad idea.

"It's gone now, right? Claimed another victim, someone who can't fight back, who can't-"

"I know!" Harry snarled, eyes opening, fingers gripping desperately to the strands of his hair, "But I didn't want to put it back on, I hate it."

There was a moment of silence, before Hermione made an angry sort of noise.


He turned to meet her eyes. "So what?"

They darkened. "So what that you hated it? You still had control of it, for the most part it didn't affect you, and it couldn't hurt anyone else."

His lips curled. "Why should I have to deal with it-"

"Because it's the right thing to do!" She shouted suddenly, breathing heavily. "It was your responsibility."

Harry looked away. "I'm a lamia, we don't do responsibilty well."

"No, you cannot use that as an excuse for everything, Harry. Gods, it's funny when it's shopping or standing up for other people, but Harry, what happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" He snapped, "Why is everything my fault?"

Hermione looked as though she were about to scream. "Look at who you are right now-"

"I'm fine-"

"No you're not," She hissed, "I don't know all the things you did in the future, but it changed you. Some of it good, but there are parts of you, Harry, that scare me for you. Mr. Malfoy could have killed you, did you think of that?"

He rolled his eyes, "He would never."

"Open your eyes," Hermione said, "He could have, and by a stroke of luck he didn't."

Smirking, Harry spoke, "It might have something to do with stroking, but luck-"

"Shut it. It's your lack of fear from people like Mr. Malfoy, and Professor Dumbledore. They could hurt you, Harry, if they really wanted to. Don't you think about that at all?"

"Not really."

She rubbed her eyes. "You actively go after people without reason, and some of the things you do, they make me really uncomfortable. It really hurts them. More and more you lose control, more classes you try to skip, off to Merlin know's where, and Dumbledore will find out. You said you have less of a moral code than before, and I see that now. But how far would you go, Harry? How much is too far for you now? I've seen you manipulate people, and it isn't the nice little things you did like for Neville. It's like what Dumbledore does-"

"Don't you dare," Harry hissed, jumping to his feet, "I am nothing like him."

"Look in the mirror, Harry. You might not like what you see." said Hermione, and turned away from him. His hand's formed fists as he was reminded of Malfoy's words earlier in the week.

"I'll get the ring back, I promise."

"It isn't about that, Harry," She said, her voice hushed. "You're my best friend, but I'm starting not to be able to recognise you anymore."

Harry flinched, something inside him feeling as though it was about to break. "Is this how you've seen me since I came back? I have always been like this, Hermione, even when I was younger. I won't change for anything."

When she spoke again, it sounded as though she were almost in tears. "I'm not asking you to change, but to really look at yourself and make sure this is who you want to be. There's a line between doing whatever's necessary, and it being simply wrong. I think you're teetering on the edge, and whichever you fall, I want it to be your decision."


"I'm going to bed," She said, and Harry watched her stumble up the stairs. With a careless flick of his wand, he pulled the silencing ward down, and stared grim faced into the fire.

He hadn't forgotten about it, not really, but the idea of having the horcrux on him at all times made his skin crawl. He had been having such a delightful time that day and then he just had to go and ruin it. It wasn't Harry's fault that it somehow got someone else under it's thrall.

At least, that's what he wanted to think.

There was something to what Hermione said, and anyone else he would have scoffed at them and left but - it was Hermione. And when she had something on him, it was usually true. Which meant what she had said afterwards could be true as well. The worst thought was the so-called likeness to Dumbledore and the more he thought about it the more he found was true.

So what though, he knew he would have to make the decision one day. How far would he sink into his cursed blood, or would he continue to cling to everything he had been before?

These kind of thoughts, they irritated him. Harry didn't want to think about responsibility, or being killed, in the future he hadn't been able to die. He had stopped worrying about it, and part of that instinct had come back with him. Maybe he was reckless - but wasn't that who he was, even with all the personality potions pulling him down before? Was this all just an excuse for himself to feel better?

Collapsing against the chair, Harry weighed his options. The careful plans he had had before in the future, he had ruined spectacularly. His lack of control when it came to dark magic and sex worried him, and the fact he could barely spare a moment for his friends. Were they just chess pieces like they had been for Dumbledore the first time around?

He needed to talk to someone, but there was simply no one around to talk to. Luna was gone for another day, and Hermione, while brilliant, was still only fifteen, something Harry realized he had been trying to forget.

Should he had just stayed in the future? He had been mostly content, and while Hermione hadn't known of his cursed ancestry, she would have figured it out sooner or later. Luna was there too, and all the parties and blood and death he could ever want. Why had he come back at all?

Something gripped at his mind suddenly, pressing down on his thoughts. Why had he come back? To save people - to do it right? For revenge?

It was as if two sides of his mind were at war, one - the human side, wanted a do over, a way to save every innocent from the war, and the other, his own cursed blood, it wanted to kill, to make the one's who tricked and hurt him pay. It wanted to have fun, innocents be damned.

But which side was truly him? Which way would he fall?

Was it wrong of him to like death, to love the feeling of battle, the scent of blood on the air? That was who he was now, wasn't it? He didn't know what mercy was any longer.

How could Hermione even bear to look at him now, without being disgusted? When he was disgusted by the parts of himself he fought desperately to forget?

Harry suddenly knew he needed to get out of the castle. He needed a reminder of who he was, not just now, but before. Who he could have been if he had had his parents. Harry probably would have never known of his cursed blood if his parents had been alive. He would have been all human, and stubborn and cocky and a little spoiled, but he would have been living.

Whatever this was, maybe he enjoyed it, maybe he was bored of it all, but for months now he had lived without much of a purpose.

It was like a spark went off in his brain, and he choked down a bitter laugh when he finally understood. Had that been what this had all been about? Months and months of planning to turn back time, to find a way to die, all to find purpose again?

He didn't bother with any spells this time, Harry simply opened the door to the corridor outside, wrapping the invisibility cloak around his shoulders. Like every other time he had snuck out before, he traveled soundlessly to the seventh floor, careful not to meet anyone on the way. Harry wasn't sure what he would do if he did, especially if it was Snape, or gods forbid, Dumbledore himself.

But it seemed luck was on his side for the first time that week, and the corridors were empty and all shadow. The door etched into the wall without so much as a sound, and Harry entered inside on quiet footsteps.

When he arrived at Godric's Hollow, it was snowing and the rooftops, trees, pavement - they were all covered. He suddenly regretted leaving without a coat or scarf, and grudgingly put on a few heating charms after removing the invisibility cloak.

The silence was almost overbearing. There are not a person nor animal around from what he could sense, and for the first time in a long while, Harry was alone.

He may not like snow, but looking up as it fell, swirling all around him, he could simply close his eyes and breathe.

He made it to his parent's graves, and stood in front of them, suddenly wishing he had brought something. In the future, after the war, he had always brought flowers, lilies and wildflowers and anything else that he thought they would like. After a while though, when he started coming here to escape from things, he had slowly started to forget bringing things for them. It wasn't a habit he wanted to get back into.

"Hello, mum, dad," He whispered, crouching down. "I'm not sure you can even hear me or see me, or even if you did, I'm not sure what time travel does when you're dead. I'm sorry I didn't say anything the last time I came here though, but this is where I usually go when I need to run away for a bit." He laughed slightly. "I'm so immature, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind that. I don't know quite why I came back, and maybe you don't understand what I'm talking about but that's okay because I think better sometimes talking out loud. Did you know, mum? Did you have any idea of what you were? I'm so tired of being human, but that's what it's all about. It's not easy, and it's not supposed to be. It would be so easy to turn it all off, and wake up in a few decades to either be dead or surrounded by blood. That almost seems like the best choice sometimes. But then Hermione and Sirius and-"

"Who are you?"

Harry spun around, wand raised automatically. He hadn't noticed anyone before, and though the voice was vaguely familiar, the smell was definitely not.

"Maybe I should ask the same?" He answered back, and the other man stepped out of the shadows. Harry's eyes widened slightly before narrowing.

"And maybe I should be asking what you are?" His old professor said, and Harry smiled sharply.

"But wouldn't that mean you are something too?"

"I'm human," The other man said automatically, and Harry burst into chilling laughter. He couldn't help it. Oh, Remus desperately wanted that to be true, but he didn't understand why. He could be so powerful, being bitten from the most powerful werewolf in Britain, yet here he was now, sniveling and weak. A coward.

Harry would never forgive him. Stuck being abused at the Dursley's for ten years, and not once did the man check in on him. Harry was a part of his pack, yet he never did a thing and it disgusted him. What kind of family friend would do that? What kind of werewolf would do that?

And now here he was, in the flesh.

Harry's lips curved into an ugly sneer. If Teddy had survived - Harry would have done anything for that child, but he had been killed along with his grandmother. And this man - this man who abandoned his wife and child to come after them as though they were more important and that was worse than anything. He hated this man. He hated him more than he hated Peter, because never once, had this filthy dog redeemed himself. He got to see that rat die, but this man had not thought once about his child's future, if both him and Tonks died. And that hurt.

And now he was at his parent's grave, no doubt begging for forgiveness, daring to ask him who he was?

"Human? How did you ever come that conclusion?" Harry drawled, drawing up to his full height. He had no doubt his eyes were pitch colored. Remus's fingers clenched, and Harry laughed again.

"Why are you at this grave?"

Harry cocked his head, "Are you saying I can't visit my own parents?"

"Don't lie," Remus snarled, eyes flash yellow and Harry clapped his hands together, making him jump.

"Cute," He said with a sneer, and pulled back his hood.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Remus finally spoke.

"Dumbledore said you changed, but he had no idea…"

His lips curled, voice almost deadly. "Dumbledore?"

"He has no idea what you've turned into," Remus whispered.

His voice was very soft now, and if Remus wasn't such a coward when it came to his own senses, he might of been able to pick up on the danger he was in. "Which is what, exactly?"

"A monster."

"You are such a disappointment, Professor. If you have a son one day, and he turned out to be a werewolf as well, would you see him the same way you see me and yourself?"

"Of course I would," Remus said bitterly, "All of us-"

"Shut up," Harry hissed, feeling his stomach and legs and feet all throbbing. "You are disgusting."

Remus remained on guard, but Harry watched his eyes flash. He could have been so powerful. It wasn't even close to full moon, yet his eyes flickered and his voice turned guttural. Harry might have despised Grayback, but he could see why the man was always so disappointed.
So much power.

"So what are you going to do, Professor?"

"Don't call me that," Remus growled again, and Harry merely smiled.

"You're thinking you can't let me to back to a school of innocent young children, even though I'm one myself. Hypocrite," Harry hissed, and the other man flinched.

"I can't let you hurt anyone, Harry."

Harry threw his head back, laughing bitterly. "Are you going to 'detain' me then?"

"You are a monster," Remus said, and Harry no longer saw any point in waiting. Obviously Remus was going to try and kill him, and Harry was simply going to do just that, just like he had always had wanted.

He released his breath, and stopped holding himself back from transforming.

One moment, Remus stood over him by a few inches, and the next Harry was eight feet above his head, laughing as the werewolf's eyes widened.

"Oh Remus, what did you think I was?" Harry said chuckling. "A slug?"

He dodged out of Harry's path, before getting hit by his tail and tripping over his own feet. Horror reflected in his eyes right before Harry surged forward to smash his head through the ground. Blood splattered through the snow, and it was absolutely dazzling.

Harry licked the freezing blood off his hands, before realizing just how cold it was.

He killed Remus before the werewolf had killed him. It was simple, and it could even stand up in court. However, he may not have liked the man, but Sirius did. And Harry liked Sirius.

He hadn't thought about Sirius at all.

The worst of all though, was that he had just killed the man right before his parent's graves. Without thought, without hesitation.

He buried his hands in his long, rippling hair. "Oh, why did I do that here?"

Murder meant nothing to him. He was a monster - but Harry didn't see that as a fault of some sort. Murdering someone that had been important to his parents right in front of their graves?

That was different.

"Shit," Harry murmured. He had had a bad feeling starting that week, and if he thought losing the ring had been the reason, it obviously had been not.

He shifted back into his human form, and picked up his wand where he had flung it to the ground, and started cleaning up the area. He transfigured Remus's broken body into a small, rodent-like creature, and then vanished it. He didn't have time to celebrate.

Hopefully it would be a long while before Dumbledore asked after him again. The bigger problem would be Sirius though.

He must never know.