Tom sat rigidly in the creaking boat, his knuckles pale against the oars as he rowed. The diadem sat beside him in a velvet-lined box, its presence pressing against his thoughts like a stone in his shoe. The lake stretched endlessly in every direction, black and mirror-smooth, reflecting only the faint glimmer of moonlight.
He pushed harder on the oars, muscles straining as though he could row fast enough to outrun the memory. Harry’s tears, his trembling voice, the way he’d looked so broken when Tom walked away. And worst of all, how Tom had felt his resolve waver. For one dangerous, fleeting moment, he’d wanted to stay.
“Tom.”
The sound came soft, almost swallowed by the night air. He froze, the oars hanging limply in his hands. His eyes darted over the empty expanse of water, but nothing moved.
“Tom.”
This time it was clearer, and his blood turned to ice. He dropped the oars with a clatter, spinning around to face the voice.
“Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice sharp, cracking through the stillness.
Only silence answered. Then, a ripple spread across the surface of the lake. His breath hitched, and his wand slipped into his hand. Emerald green glimmering through the water.
Harry.
His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, and his eyes gleamed like they used to, impossibly bright in the moonlight. He looked just as Tom remembered, just as perfect. He smiled, soft and inviting, and lifted a hand to wave.
“Jump in the water. Come with me,” Harry said, his voice light and sweet, filled with a warmth that twisted the knife already buried deep in Tom’s chest.
Tom shook his head, his hands trembling where they clutched the edge of the boat. “No. I can’t.”
Harry tilted his head, his smile widening as though he knew something Tom didn’t. “Don’t fear. I’ll catch you. I’ll get you. I’ll keep you safe.”
Tom’s voice cracked. “You can’t keep me safe… You can only be safe without me. That’s why I broke up with you.”
Harry’s smile didn’t falter. He leaned lazily against a jagged rock rising from the water, his posture casual and inviting. “Don’t think about it,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “I got you. I’ll take that suffering from you.”
Tom’s throat tightened. “What suffering?” he whispered.
“All the pain you’re carrying,” Harry replied, his voice as soft as a lullaby. “I’ll take it from you. I’ll take your pain.”
Tom’s gaze dropped to Harry’s chest, smooth and glistening under the moonlight. His stomach turned. There was no scar.
There should have been a scar—a small, rectangular mark just above his heart. Tom remembered tracing it with his fingers, the way Harry would smile, bashful, as if it embarrassed him. But here, Harry’s chest was blank, unmarked.
“You’re not him,” Tom spat.
The thing before him froze, its smile slipping, twisting. The warmth in its eyes faded, replaced by something hollow and predatory. Its skin began to ripple and distort, scales breaking through as its features lengthened. Gills flared along its neck, its once-soft hair turning stringy and wet. When it bared its teeth, they were sharp and jagged, gleaming in the moonlight.
A siren.
Tom’s wand was in his hand before the creature could move. The creature let out a piercing screech, its body thrashing violently before it disappeared beneath the surface, leaving only ripples behind.
He stood motionless, his wand raised, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The lake was empty again. He sank to the floor of the boat, his legs weak beneath him.
He thought of Harry. The real Harry. He thought of his eyes, his smile, the warmth he’d always carried with him. He wondered if that light still existed or if it had dulled, snuffed out like he feared.
But he already knew the answer. He’d seen it—the moment he said goodbye, the green of Harry’s eyes dimmed, their brightness stolen by the weight of Tom’s betrayal.
And no matter how far he rowed, that weight stayed with him.