Chapter 1
Harry Potter
He is Harry James Potter and seventeen. He is watching memories, assigning tasks, walking through a dark forest. He is Harry Potter and this is his destiny, so he walks to his death, stares it in the face, and at the last second, closes his eyes. He’s seen green far too many times already.
Regulus Black
Now his name is Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Orion Arcturus Black and Walburga Black. He is brother to Sirius Orion Black, friend to a house elf. He is eighteen years old. He is the servant of the Dark Lord, branded like cattle. He is in a cave, he is reliving his worst memories, he is making the switch, giving an order, crawling desperately towards water. He faces inferi with cold eyes, and sinks beneath rippling waves in a glassy lake.
Cedric Diggory
He is sixteen and a Hufflepuff with loving parents and a girlfriend. He’s in the maze that haunted his nightmares. He’s fighting an acromantula, and arguing about the Triwizard Cup, and he wishes that things could go differently, wishes that Cedric Amos Diggory didn’t have to die, didn’t have to be the first casualty of the start of the war. He wishes many things, wishes he didn’t have to witness death, wishes he didn’t have to guide all these souls to the After. He wishes that he had been smarter, faster, stronger. He wishes that green wasn’t the last color Cedric Diggory ever saw. He wishes that wishes came true.
Salazar Slytherin
He is a half-blood, a parselmouth, a Founder. He is a wizard when magic is feared, when practitioners are burned, or drowned, or hanged. They are mostly burned, mostly children, untrained, foolish. He is a Dark wizard, some say. Some opine that Dark is tantamount to evil. He disagrees, is more Gray than Dark. Certainly, he is a dangerous man, both with magic and with blades. He is only as dangerous as he needs to be; he is as ambitious and cunning and self-preserving as his circumstances call for. He is Salazar Slytherin, the most misunderstood Founder, who was rewritten by history, by time. He does not care for the new-borns, it is true, but only because they endanger all magicals. He is Salazar Slytherin, and he’s left Hogwarts behind, with a basilisk in his Chamber – a last line of defense. He’s older, more experienced, and knows both friendship and scorn. He knows that non-magicals are dangerous, is certain – they jump to conclusions, and burn, or shoot. He will not reveal magic to them, will not endanger his world; instead, he will be a Gryffindor for once, he will face a non-magical blade and pretend that he regrets his futile arguments about the dangers of non-magicals. He doesn’t, is what he thinks as he feels the bite of the man’s blade. He thinks it’s harder to die as someone you don’t know, to die a death you know nothing about.
Severus Snape
He is Severus Tobias Snape, half-blood, spy. He is the youngest potions master, Head of House of Slytherin. He is a master of deceit, of masks, of lies. He is as talented in potions as he is in the art of misleading others. He tells many lies, most of them to himself, and he pretends he’s not dying a little bit every day. He is Severus Snape, his hated Professor, and he knows how this goes, watched this death himself. He sees the elder wand in Voldemort’s hand, hears the slither of Nagini’s scales against the floor of the Shrieking Shack, feels the change in the air as the snake lunges. He knows how this goes, knows it intimately, knows the death will be slow, painful. He has to let go of the memories, has to say something, has to... He looks into familiar emerald eyes for the last time and feels a choking regret in the pit of his stomach and around his bloody throat.
Albus Dumbledore
Now he is a patchwork quilt of flaws and regrets and mistakes, barely held together by what he tells himself is love. He is a master manipulator, a remorseful betrayer. He is the elder brother of two, now one, and he’s not quite sure – has never been certain – who deserves the blame. He is regretful of most things, a great believer in second, third, fourth chances. He is delirious from potion, weak from fire, wandless and facing a scared little boy. He relates with Draco Malfoy on some level, believes in offering and taking opportunities; he offers, must offer – there is no other way for this to go. He offers hope and his death arrives in a blur of black and shadow and a nearly believable sneer. He tells himself it is better this way, better to have a quick and painless death than a cursed one. He tells himself that this plan is the best option, and he almost believes it. He is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Light Lord, grand chess master. He is Albus Dumbledore, who has always flown so high, so far above everyone else; now, he is no longer flying – instead he is falling, gracefully, falling towards his death, towards his next great adventure. He is dead before he hits the ground
Sirius Black
Not guilty are the words that have echoed in his head for years, as he woke from nightmares only to be greeted by soul-sucking monsters. He is not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. He feels as though he is, a little bit; he feels like he’s condemned so many people to death or insanity or slavery. He is not guilty for his upbringing, certainly. What could he have done to be born into an insane family with an apathetic father and a cruel mother and distant relatives? He was responsible for the outcome of his Sorting: Gryffindor – he’d always been the white sheep of the family, too strongly based in morals, disdainful of anything that reminded him of his accursed family. He doesn’t know if he’s responsible for his brother’s decisions, but if he’d taken him along , if he’d not abandoned him, maybe… but there was – is – nothing he can do to change the past. He wants desperately to say he’s not guilty, but he is , for certain things. He regrets them all, regrets his mistakes and blunders and prejudices. He regrets that he never grew up properly, never matured, but the circumstances cannot be altered. So he taunts Bellatrix and falls backwards laughing, falls backwards looking at the heartbreak on his face from so many years ago.
Nymphadora Tonks
He is Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks, and honestly, what was Andy thinking when she named her child? But he is Tonks and his muggle-born father is dead and his mother is heartbroken and he is charging into battle, fighting back to back with Remus. He has a child less than a year old waiting for him, waiting for Remus to come home. There is a child anticipating a return that will never happen, and in that moment, he cannot forgive Nymphadora Tonks or Remus Lupin because they were fighting, they knew they might die and orphan their newborn baby. Why had they taken the risk of orphaning their child? Remus is hit moments before him, his body is likely cold before the cutting curse lands.
Lily Potter
He is the mother of himself, is married to his father, and this is his worst memory. There is not much of a difference between this perspective and his own. There is the same shout from his husband-father, the same mantra, step aside, step aside, step aside , though it’s not really a mantra, the same deadly flash of green. It is different though, because he can feel love and fear, and he can see himself, and complicated rune arrays. The laugh is still the same. He wonders if his mother has any idea what happens to him after her death; does she know that he will be willing to die at the age of seventeen? He is Lily Evans Potter, muggle-born witch, sister to Petunia Evans Dursley. He is Lily Potter, with a talent for charms and potions, he’s got dark red hair and emerald eyes, and he’s married to a one time enemy. He’s Lily Potter, and there was a prophecy, and a child, and a secret, and betrayed trust. He’s Lily Potter and he’s not perfect, and he’s not a hero, and she’s bitter and unforgiving and cold, and she’s light and happiness and flaming warmth. He’s Lily Potter, and this death is not unique – that was his life, not his death. His death is unremarkable, especially now, and it’s really just an entire life swallowed by a flash of green.
Fred Weasley
He is Frederick Fabian Weasley, now, and he’s got two ears and a twin with only one. He’s got six siblings and a grandma and a sister-in-law, and he loves pranking. He’s only twenty one and he’s laughing at Percy. He’s fighting when the wall collapses on him and it’s painful but it’s quick. One minute, his mum’s clock reads mortal peril and the next, his hand has fallen to the ground. Fred Weasley is many things: he’s a half of a whole, part of a huge family, an inventor, a businessman; he’s a beater, and a big brother, and a little brother, and a prankster, but this is no prank, and he is dead, dead, dead.
Gideon Prewett
He dies fighting, dies with his brother, dies and leaves his sister behind and devastated and alone. He’s not quite sure what loneliness is, has never been alone from the time he was conceived till his death. There’s another part of him that has always been alone, has never known anything but emptiness and isolation. He’s Gideon Prewett, and he’s got a brother named Fabian and a sister called Molly. He’s got red hair and freckles and a penchant for pranking. He is unremarkable in most things, but he takes out several Death Eaters before he falls. For a split second he feels strangling loneliness, but it’s nothing new, nothing he hasn’t experienced every day of his life.
Charity Burbage
Unremarkable is perhaps the best description for Charity Burbage. She is a pureblood teaching outdated Muggle Studies, and that is her only crime. He joins her in Malfoy Manor, and knows that he will see yet another flash of green coming from a wand versed in Legilimency and lies. He knows that after, the body will be devoured by Nagini, knows that there is a witness dragged through dreams. He knows that Charity Burbage will not return to Hogwarts, and he knows that her only crime was for being too interested in Muggles, her crime was being a blood-traitor according to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
Merope Gaunt
He’s young and exhausted and devastated. He’s Merope Gaunt, and he’s bloody and broken, this body has just given painful birth, and what little magic it had is gone now. He knows he needs to do something important before this body dies, knows he has to name the baby, name his future nemesis, and he kind of understands the irony of it. He can’t just kill the baby, too much lies in the balance for that to be an option, but he understands where the name came from, understands that he gave the child a name it would hate on purpose. He forces out the words just before Merope Gaunt’s life force fades away. “His name will be Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle.” He feels like he’s gotten revenge, now.
Tom Riddle
He is Tom Marvolo Riddle, half-blood bastard of a near-squib and a Muggle. He is unwanted, unloved, so he gives them a reason to fear and hate and he relishes in it. He’s not yet eleven when he tortures children from the orphanage, and he first kills at sixteen. He rips apart his soul in a bid for immortality, and he is defied time and time again by one boy. They say that when one truly knows their enemy, when one loves them, that is when one can defeat them. He doesn’t think that statement is true – it is more that when one is their enemy they finally love them. He is his enemy before his death, and it’s in this moment that he really gets to know Tom Riddle. When he becomes Voldemort for just a wrinkle in time, he learns his fears and loves, he knows Tom better than Voldemort knows himself. He’s gotten to know all these people, in their last moments. He’s been so many people already, and he knows he’ll be many, many more. He is Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he kills himself. He allows himself to be provoked, and he shouts out a spell he’d hoped to never utter. He thinks it fitting that his own spell is what kills him, but he can’t help feeling a sort of pity for this broken piece of almost human; he almost loves the shattered creature, and maybe that’s what really, finally killed him in the same color that started his journey.
Ariana Dumbledore
Ariana Kendra Dumbledore is his new name; he’s an obscurus, he’s fourteen, and he’s not really sure how this death goes. He has a vague notion, but everything he knows about the scandal is limited to rumors, and he knows better than to put faith in those. There is screaming all around him, and flashing light, and her magic is out of control, it wants out, it wants to destroy, it wants to be like it was when Kendra died. He wonders what her death was like, though he knows he’ll find out eventually. The flashing lights have turned to the green of his mother’s eyes, and sickly scarlet: the spells have turned to death and pain. There are three voices, and they grow louder, they rise in tandem, and it is the heavily accented voice that shouts the spell, that growls out enough hate to be the last thing he sees before everything shifts.
Bellatrix Lestrange
He is Bellatrix Druella Lestrange, formerly Black. He’s veritably insane, loyal to a fault, much more violent and bloodthirsty than necessary. He has two sisters, both younger, both better. He already knows how this goes, saw Bellatrix’s death himself. He knows there will be a curse leaving his wand in a vicious duel before he crumpled to the ground, before he disappears. He knows how it happens, and yet when it does, when he is hit, when he - she - dies, it is unexpected.
Myrtle Warren
He is Myrtle Warren and he’s crying in the second floor bathroom, is steps away from the Chamber of Secrets. He’s a little girl who isn’t particularly strong, isn’t brave or sly or loyal. He’s a little girl who isn’t smart enough to ask for help, who will be more set on revenge than peace. He’s a little girl who knows the circumstances of her death, and he’ll walk toward it, and stare it in the eye. And then he’ll let go because he can’t make choices for a bitter little girl, and he’ll need her help in the future.
Dobby
He is a free elf, and it will be written on his gravestone and weathered by tears and salt and wind. He belonged to the Malfoy family, and issued a warning. He was freed and paid and happy and helpful. He is Dobby, a free elf, a good friend, a hero. He dies with a knife between his ribs and his name on his lips.
Gellert Grindelwald
He is many things - he is a wizard, he is better than Muggles, he is the type of man who can justify anything with the phrase for the Greater Good . He is cruel and demanding and exacting and ruthless, and all his skill and ambition has only gotten him here: in his own castle, in a cell he used for war prisoners. It has been decades since anyone - since Albus - came to see him, and he hasn’t spoken in nearly as long. It is a shock to be forced awake to see a serpentine creature reeking in Black Magic, and his relentless questioning about the Elder Wand is unnerving. Gellert Grindelwald is many things, and good isn’t one of them, no matter that he claimed it was, no matter that the Greater Good was the only thing that was important to him. So he is not good, but here and now he decides he will not tell the monster before him where the wand was last. He is Gellert Grindelwald and he respects - they both do - Dumbledore too much to tell. And so he sits in silence, grits his atrophying teeth against the pain, and almost smiles at the frustrated flash of green.
Harry Potter
He is himself again, with snowy hair and leathery skin and blurry vision. He is surrounded by his family, by everyone he hasn’t helped along, yet. He is Harry James Potter in the same way he was Regulus Black and Severus Snape; he is these people for a few moments in time. He’s Harry Potter and though this body was where he experienced his first death, it will not be his last. He is many things, has been for nearly as long as he can remember. He is mortal and immortal. He is strong and weak, and intelligent and not. He is invincible and terrifyingly fragile. He is last moments and entire lives. He is death, and the start of new life, and perhaps most importantly, he first and foremost Harry Potter, the boy in the cupboard, the wizard, the Savior and the Boy-Who-Lived and the Chosen One. He is a hero, and a painfully average, flawed boy who grew up without love or happiness, or even the slightest notion of friendship. He is the boy who jumped in head first, without thinking, without asking for help besides a superficial plea. And so, he is a hero and a martyr who walked to his own death. When it touched him, he woke up and went in two directions. He became last moments, and he lived out his life until he lived out the lives of others.
The Diary
He is the diary, in its final moments, and as much as he hates it, he must taunt, must give cruel orders, must laugh at his old body’s misfortune. He’s done this already, knows he can do it because it’s how this works; nothing that happened in the past can change. He silently thanks the phoenix, and cheers on his young body. He learns that, even for a Horcrux, even for a diary, basilisk venom is painful.