A Perfect World
Harry Potter wasted no time in revealing everything to Weasley and Greengrass in the quiet light of the great hall fireplace. Nervously, Weasley cast three anti-listening spells and Levira cast a strong lock on the door.
“What do you think?”
Greengrass and Weasley glanced at each other. Levira shrugged, “I agree with him. I might even go so far as to say I’m willing to support him completely.
“Did you know… My brother was originally enlisted to Grindlewald’s army?”
Weasley and Potter gaped at the witch. She smiled coldly. “My parents told me that we should be… Proud. They said it was an honor for someone so weak to be chosen by such a great dark wizard. That he could lead our family to great power.
“Only I recognized this for what it was. After all, the call to arms came in a printed letter. Not even handwritten - it could have been made into an advert at a cheap printing station. My brother was chosen because he was a pure-blood and soon to come of age, not for anything else. I was the one who persuaded him and my parents to wait one more year… To delay the inevitable. A senseless death for a losing battle. And then came Lord Voldemort.
“This…” Levira smiled down at her fingers, playing with a silver locket with her family crest. Delight crept into her usually apathetic facade. “It’s truly perfect, isn’t it? A bloodless solution.”
“I disagree,” Everard said.
Levira’s expression froze. “What do you know, Weasley?” She hissed.
“You can’t be serious. You’re talking about displacing an entire civilization; rip apart families, friends, lovers, and communities from each other and their homes so that we might thrive. And where does this end? The mermaids have been a bit annoying lately, let’s cart them off to a desert world, shall we?” Everard slammed his fist on the table. “This is an abuse of power.”
“Where are they going?” Harry wondered aloud. “I don’t know if that was ever made clear. Is the Muggle world like a country we can go back and forth to? Assumably not, if preventing war by preventing contact is Tom’s goal. Does the Muggle world mirror our world precisely? How could he possibly know that if he’s never done the spell before?”
Levira faltered. “Of course the new Muggle world must be like ours. Tom designed it, didn’t he?”
“Have you talked to a professor, Harry?” Weasley asked. But even as he said that, all three of the students knew the answer to that. Which Professor would you trust were not on Lord Voldemort’s side? At this point, the war on Grindlewald had taken victims from everyone, and Lord Voldemort was being hailed as the prodigious savior. The only one Harry trusted was Professor Dumbledore, and he was so busy with the war that they had to bring in a horrible Riddle-fanatic named Professor Dolohov. According to Dolohov, the darling Prince of Slytherin could do no wrong.
The next day, Potter and Weasley snuck out of the safety of the dorms and through one of Hogwarts’ many secret passages to get to Hogsmeade. Although Tom had never told Harry exactly where to go, Harry knew him well enough to take his friends directly to Hog’s Head.
Even during the daytime, this dirty pub was full of character. At night, it seemed to morph into an entirely different beast - mysterious and ghastly and very much alive. Even in their hooded cloaks, they were clearly underage, a fact that did not go unnoticed by a large half-troll standing guard at the entrance. He glowered down at them until he caught a glimpse of the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead.
“Password?” The half-troll stroked his club - a bulbous mass of knotted wood about the size of a first-year.
Weasley glanced around nervously. “We’re looking for the strongest love potion.”
The massive doorman narrowed his eyes. A few tense seconds passed. Finally, he pointed silently towards an old black door on the side of the pub. It hadn’t been there before. With tentative nods, the three students wrapped their hoods around themselves and crept forward into the lion’s den.
Somehow, the room opened up into a lively, warm atmosphere. Wizards and witches - some hooded and some not - mingled eagerly over sweet treats on a long table. The room resembled a kind of small amphitheater with tiered seating and several spaces to snack with tea. Everywhere Harry looked, people intermingled seamlessly, perhaps joyfully, perhaps trepidatiously. And among them all, one figure drew the eye most clearly.
Tom Riddle stood at the head of the room, surrounded by hooded and masked wizards and witches who gestured energetically. He leaned against the wall leisurely, his long legs stretched before him. Every so often, he’d glance in Harry’s direction with a soft, scarcely visible lift of his lips.
Somewhere, a clock chimed the hour was midnight. Tom Riddle stood tall at the sound - his demeanor no longer so casual. His followers seemed to melt into the seats in front of him.
“Thank you for coming,” Tom announced to the crowd. He might as well have cast silencio on his captive audience. “All this time, my dear followers understood that what we will achieve together is perhaps the greatest magic of our time. But why would we bother? For power? For glory? No. I’d like to introduce you to the wizards and witches whom I am doing this for. Would everyone who has reached out to me personally stand up?”
Suddenly, the entire room went silent. All that could be heard was the sound of chairs scraping against the old wooden floorboards and the gentle padding of feet overhead. Tom nodded graciously to the room. Every single person was standing. Old, young, wealthy, and poor. Students wearing colors from all four houses were standing.
The only ones seated were Potter and Weasley. “This is madness,” Weasley muttered.
“My dear,” Tom went to one of the witches on the first tier of the room. “Please, tell me who you are. Why do you do this?”
“Lord Voldemort, My mum lives in the heart of Calrose,” The speaker was undoubtedly a first-year with her soft cheeks and large eyes. Her hair swung in a messy braid the same color as her bright yellow robes. “She’s a muggle, but she’s always been so proud of me for being a witch. About a month ago, mum was coming home as she always does after work. She was hit by a curse from a Grindlewald fanatic “in the name of magic purity”. Ha.” The girl gripped the sleeves of her robe in tight fists. “She still hasn’t woken up. If she wasn’t here… If she could be someplace else, where magic never existed, how wonderful her life would be.”
“My Lord,” An elderly man with an austere hunch approached next. “My entire life, I’ve felt isolated from both worlds, despite being born into a family of great wizards and witches. I will forever see the incredible beauty of magic and be unable to grasp even the concept of its existence. If only magic weren’t part of my life to begin with.”
There were many with stories like these. Wizards or witches with people they tried… And often failed to protect. Squibs who longed to find a home without being tortured in a world they couldn’t understand. In one case, a family made up of a muggle father and muggle uncle, witch wife, and two grown wizard sons approached Harry. They knew Lord Voldemort’s plan would mean splitting their family apart, but they also knew their way of living was unsustainable. The two muggles had become targets for the nefarious forces of the wizarding world because of the witch’s great magical ability. For several years, the woman was even forced into slavery, making magic weapons day and night for Grindlewald followers, whilst her sons gave up their childhood at Hogwarts to protect their father and uncle. Magic destroyed this family, and they would always be at risk as long as they were together.
“We just want them to live their lives,” the youngest wizard said. He looked the same age as Harry.
The boy’s father pulled his young son into his arms and kissed his hair. “And we just want our boys to be free,” he said.
Later, Tom and Harry slowly walked back to the dorms together. Weasley headed back to Hogwarts several hours prior to make roll call (and so that Weasley could cover up for Harry’s inconspicuous absence with the Gryffindor prefect). Most of the walk back to Hogwarts was silent.
“You used to get nightmares,” Tom said quietly, breaking into Harry’s thoughts. “When we were little.”
Harry sighed. He didn’t want to hear where Tom was going with this. He grabbed the older wizard’s shoulder and turned him so that they were face-to-face beneath the silver moon.
“Tom, why won’t you tell us where you’re sending the muggles? You keep saying it’s a perfect world, just like ours, but free of magic. But how could you possibly know that? Have you been there?”
Tom smiled. “Of course, Harry. Everything is the same.”
“What about the people living there now - you expect them to take in half of our human population without contest?”
“Yes. It took some convincing but they were very open to-”
“You’re lying!” Harry shouted. “You- you said you wouldn’t lie to me. What, so Tom Riddle can be honest, but the great Lord Voldemort can’t? Do you even know if the spell works?”
Tom’s eyes glowed in the shadows. “The spell works.”
“Sure,” Harry sneered. “You’re taking advantage of the greedy and the desperate to advance your homicidal agenda. Listen here, my Lord. If you go through with this, you will be committing the greatest mass murder in the history of dark wizards. As your friend, I cannot let you do this.”
Something cold, horrible, and empty slithered across Tom’s handsome features.
“I’m not playing anymore, Harry. It’s time to choose me, once and for all.”
“Harry! Oh, excuse me my lord. I need to borrow Harry for just a moment.” Tom and Harry startled at the brightly lit wand coming towards them. Harry sighed out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Riddle smiled benevolently. “Of course, it’s quite late. Have a good night, Harry. Levira.”
Riddle’s eyes rested on them uncomfortably as the pair hurried away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Levira shoved Harry into a room he’d seen once before, The Room of Requirements. There, Weasley sat amongst a pile of books, looking exhausted and concerned. Without saying a word, his eyes told Harry that their Slytherin ally had something important to say.
“I already told her what happened at the gathering,” Everard ran his fingers through his hair. “She knows how much this means to everyone, and how convincing Lord Voldemort is.”
“Did you tell her that Tom never explained a thing? This whole night was a wasted night of brainwashing,” Harry scoffed. After a quick breath, he took off his round spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long night. Everyone’s scared, I understand. Lord Voldemort sounds so convincing, so much like my Tom, even I wanted to believe him. If only he’d be a little more transparent…”
Levira and Everard exchanged looks. Levira walked around the boys and dropped a weathered black book in Harry’s lap. “I guess the room could feel how badly I needed to uncover the truth. Or maybe it knew someone needed to stop him. This is Tom Riddle’s Diary.”
Dear Harry,
It’s been six months since Professor Dumbledore separated us. It’s silly to isolate us. But in the meantime, I’ve been making great headway on our perfect world. I met with the muggle prime minister yesterday. He’s a squib - as many of our modern muggle prime ministers are - and was delighted to have a way out of not just one, but two potentially apocalyptic world wars. Fool.
Unfortunately, the perfect world requires quite a bit of work… And a total lunar eclipse. Only on the darkest of nights will we achieve what was thought to be impossible.
Yours,
Tom
“Total Lunar Eclipse?” Harry wondered.
“He addressed every page to Harry? That crazy-” Everard’s hands went to his now completely mute mouth. Levira shrugged at the redhead’s glare, pretending she hadn’t just cast Oscausi to shut him up. Instead, she flipped to another diary entry, at least two months later.
Dear Harry,
Why won’t you talk to me?
You like red, don’t you? What if I dyed the whole world red; would you speak to me then?
We’re so close now. Although I won’t be able to create a real prison, I can cast the next best thing.
Have you ever heard of the Mirror of Erised? This will be much better than that - as long as enough powerful wizards and witches share my vision, the Alterum Terrarum Stone will be able to bring every non-magic human into their sweetest, most desired dream. Eternally. In a sense, this is a kinder alternative to the parallel world Lord Voldemort promised the muggles.
Have you never wanted a good dream to last just a little bit longer?
Yours,
Tom
“I had to look up the Mirror of Erised. Apparently, it’s an enchanted mirror that shows the most desperate desire of a person’s heart - a vision that has been known to drive men mad. That stone he created can bring souls into the vision of their desire. I’m not really sure what it looks like, but to capture an entire world of muggles, Lord Voldemort will need a lot of magic. I’ve been looking all night, but there isn’t a single detail about the makings of the spell apart from what’s in the diary - which isn’t much.”
Everard, who had managed to unblock his mouth, pulled up some books from the pile. “I think he needs a “blood moon”. It’s like a lunar eclipse, but for a very short time, the moon turns red because the border between life and afterlife is so thin. Remember what Professor Genim taught us in Introduction to Astrology from our fourth year Divination class? He said that the moon phases influence certain potions. He also ascribed magic to the likeness of the ocean - and a tide is highest on the full moon.”
“Good,” Harry said.
Everard nodded in agreement, but Levira raised her hand. “Sorry, did I miss something? Half the people on earth will be sucked into a magic rock, and we’re happy about this?”
Harry shrugged. “If Voldemort is trying to bring souls from life to some sort of dreamscape, it makes sense that he’d need to take advantage of the time when that border is thinnest. But blood moons are short - they can’t last any longer than a few minutes. We might not need to break the spell - just stall for time.”
The last entry in the diary was cleaner than all the others, as if the author was suddenly at peace. The handwriting was neat and confident.
Harry,
I implore you to try and stop me. Should you succeed, I will raze the whole world to the ground.
Always yours,
Lord Voldemort
The grey clearing appeared all the more haunting in the frigid, winter moonlight. The grounds were awash with once-healthy growth that had yellowed and froze post-autumn. The edges of the space were haunted by grotesque, naked trees with sharp limbs. Despite the unfriendly environment, a massive audience had shown up to support Lord Voldemort. Several members of the crowd had tall black hoods and frightening, skull-like masks with sallow cheeks and empty sockets. They were deatheaters, special wizards and witches who supported Lord Voldemort most loyally. Among them all, only one stood tall at the forefront. His presence was so magnetic that even the moon seemed to shine down on the young man specially, framing his handsome face with its glow.
Lord Voldemort was mid-speech by the time Harry and his friends arrived. He spoke with a kind of strength and confidence that screamed power beyond what the average wizard could even dream of. Several followers eagerly pulled Harry and the two others into the crowd, whispering how great it was that they could show up for the best part.
“We are strong to protect the weak,” The leader declared, leveling his calm gaze at his followers.
At that moment, the blood moon finally showed its face. The moment the red-orange glow superseded silver, a strange emotion swept every magic-user. The muggles in the audience glanced around them with wide eyes as witches and wizards shivered collectively with the strange feeling crawling beneath their skin. The boundary between life and death was so thin now that dark magic offered more power than any other magic in this moment.
“It is time.”
As a unit, the throng of supporters raised their wands to the sky. A cold energy thrummed through the people. At the head of the clearing, Lord Voldemort faced a massive green-black stone before him, murmuring the spell, then screaming it, then he was pointing his wand and everyone’s magic was with him casting the strongest spell known to man.
And then it was there. The Alterum Terrarum Stone. No longer a green gem in the palm of Lord Voldemort’s hand, it grew on the surface of the boulder before the increasingly incensed crowd until it lay flat and oval like a hazy mirror. Gradually, on the other side of a glossy, dream-like portal, the new world could be seen. It appeared to be exactly like this world, but more vibrant. Instead of deadened trees, the clearing had sweet tendrils of growth and lush, green foliage. Several healthy families on the other side waved at the crowd, though their exact appearance was slightly blurry.
The wizards and witches began to cheer joyfully. They had succeeded. Mixed muggle-magic families burst into tears and embraced each other, preparing to send their muggle loved ones to a free world. Everyone around Harry was electrified with unimpeachable delight.
Harry ran forward while everyone was distracted and pointed his wand at the portal.
“No!” Lord Voldemort ran to Harry and grabbed his wrist, turning him around so roughly he almost fell backwards. Directly behind the younger wizard, the mysterious portal hummed invitingly. The edge of Harry’s heel brushed the magic entryway before it sank into the soft, dead foliage.
“Move aside, Voldemort. You think I never knew where you went to study when you disappeared for hours? You think I didn’t know about the Room of Requirements, and which secrets it truly held?”
“Don’t do this, Potter.”
“He’s not sending you to a perfect world!” Harry threw back his hood and faced the shocked followers. The fine red scar on his forehead gleamed, catching the light like a black ruby. “He made his version of the Mirror of Erised, and wants to send the muggles there. It’s a false world, built on the dreams and desires of people. If anyone goes there, they are sentenced to eternity in a dream instead of life.”
After a brief silence, the reaction was… Unbothered. No one cared. Everyone’s dreams had just come true in front of their eyes. Who would listen to a little nobody? They continued on their joyful good tidings to each other, promising to meet again.
Harry whirled on Voldemort again, eyes narrowed. He had one final card to play. “I will go first.”
The dark wizard froze. Harry grinned. Got him. “You are sure of this world. I will go first, and return with good tidings. Then everyone can join the new world after saying their goodbyes.”
Tom Riddle began to sweat. “Only muggles can go. You will pollute the new world.”
“So I won’t use my magic. Just bring me back.”
“The spell only lasts as long as the moon is red. This will only last a few more minutes. There is no time-”
“Oh, just let him go!” One of the older wizards said jovially. His approval was joined by several other cheerful crowd members, who chimed in eagerly.
“Yes, yes,” Harry incited the crowd. “Let me through, Lord Voldemort. Let me go!”
“Let him go! Let him go!” The crowd began chanting, swept up in the spirit of things, as though they were fans of the winning team at a Quidditch match.
Riddle grabbed Harry’s wrist. Eyes wide. “Please stop this,” He whispered. “How do I make you stop?”
“I would never go voluntarily, Tom.” Harry whispered. “You are the one making this decision.”
Suddenly, a cloud crept across the blood moon, temporarily hiding its gaze from the clearing before it. The bright, beautiful vision in the stone flickered like a lone candle in a storm. Several wizards screamed, grabbing their beloved muggles and pressing forward to the stone.
“Cast the spell, Lord Voldemort!” They cried. “Quickly, send them all through!”
Harry pointed his wand at his own throat. Still quietly, so quietly that only the two of them could hear it, the young boy promised that he would be the first through the stone.
“The spell, the spell!”
The cloud dissipated, but the blood moon’s was beginning to regain its silver hue. The magic was fading.
“The spell!”
Surrounded by a volatile crowd fighting and pushing forwards, Harry and Tom were alone.
“I just wanted… This. To preserve this.”
“And you’ll have it forever if you want it.”
“How?”
“I’ll be your moral compass. Stay with me, for real this time. Don’t stray from the path of light or obsess over power. Remember that we have the strongest magic there is: love.”
“My lord,” Bellatrix hissed from just off of the platform. “Cast the spell!”
With a roar, Tom threw his arm to the stone just as the last vestiges of the blood moon faded from light, and a blast of power swept the audience into silence.
The silver moon came out again.
In the clearing, the large black stone was no more. The portal was gone.
Lord Voldemort fell to his knees. “The spell failed.”
Almost collectively, the crowd wailed in defeat. All the hopes and dreams for a better world, dashed by an imperfect spell. Or so they believed. Harry knelt before Tom and pressed his forehead to Tom’s gingerly. Although his lips moved, no one could hear what the boy with the scar said. In the midst of the wails, the tears, and the empty, hopeless looks - one boy held another on the broken shards of a large black-emerald over a field of dead grass. Between them, a soft yellow dandelion swayed unbidden into the night.