Start Anew
“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked. “We don’t.. We don’t separate often, and never for so long.”
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Tom replied softly, rubbing small circles over Harry’s hand.
“No, you’re right. It would be a fun challenge, but..” Harry dropped his gaze. “I’ll miss you.”
Tom couldn’t help but smile, but it came out a bit more somber than he’d wanted. “I’ll miss you too.”
“We’re going to cuddle for at least four hours when I see you again.”
Tom laughed. “I don’t see a problem with that.”
And then they were gone. The world drowned out with an array of colors, and the next thing Tom knew, he was waking up on the Hogwarts Express.
. . . . .
Tom
“Ah, Harry, have a seat.” Dumbledore gestured to the empty chair on the other side of his desk.
Like always, the Headmaster’s room was filled to the brim with strange objects, making the whole place look like a giant, chaotic mess. But, Harry knew that, somehow, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
To Dumbledore, at least.
He took a seat at the desk, resisting the urge to mess with a trinket on the desk. “You wanted me, sir?”
“Lemon drop, my boy?” The elderly wizard offered, holding up his hand.
Harry shook his head. “No thanks.”
Dumbledore only smiled, popping the small candy into his own mouth instead. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here, when I know you and your friends were planning to leave on a hunt for the remaining horcruxes soon.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded, fiddling with his hands inside his lap.
“I am about to leave Hogwarts myself, actually, though I do not have many other available options.” The Headmaster smiled sadly, the twinkle not quite reaching his eyes.
Harry had somehow expected something like this to happen, what with his wonderful Potter luck, so this really wasn’t as big of a surprise as it should have been. He nodded, waiting for the Headmaster to continue.
“Recently, I came across a way to end the war altogether.”
“You did?!” Harry was caught off-guard; he’d thought for sure Dumbledore was sending him on some perilous mission alone somewhere, like always. He leaned forward subconsciously, urging the elder wizard to share his idea.
Dumbledore nodded. “Sadly, I’m not in a position to do the task myself.” He paused. “Which is where you come in.”
Ah yes, Harry had been right after all.
“Position to do what, Professor?” Harry questioned.
“I know it is a lot to ask of you,” Dumbledore started, which didn’t actually answer the literal single question Harry had asked him.
And of course, Harry’s mind automatically responded with “ It’s never stopped you before.”
The wizard laughed. “True. I have asked a great deal from you before, but this is a bit more.. special, per se.”
The boy-who-lived blushed, realizing he said that out loud. “What exactly is this ‘special task’, if you don’t mind me asking?” Even though he’d already asked like four times.
And finally, finally, Dumbledore answered him.
“I would like you to go back in time and destroy Tom Riddle.”
It took Harry a moment for him to realize what Dumbledore had said, and then another to question if he heard right. But he doubted he heard wrong, and that was the problem. Harry stood up and slammed his hands on the desk, creating a loud thumping sound. Fawkes shifted on his roost, making him mentally apologize to the phoenix. “Destroy? You want me to kill Tom Riddle?!”
“That is the simple way of putting it, yes. I believe it is the best choice at this point in time. Not to say you can’t refuse; I will not force you to take part in this if you do not wish to.” Dumbledore said, understanding the severity of the situation.
“You.. You want me to kill Tom Riddle.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed easily, patient enough to allow Harry a minute to think it through.
“You want me to kill Tom Riddle.”
Dumbledore seemed amused by how Harry was just repeating himself, and Harry knew he was just repeating himself, but he was literally just asked to straight-up murder a teenager. A kid his age.
“Yes,” he simply answered.
Harry shifted in his seat. “Is.. Is killing him really the only option?”
Dumbledore smiled again, apparently happy at Harry’s very obvious reluctance to kill. Even Voldemort. “It is not the only option you are able to take, no. However, I find it difficult to believe that Tom will agree to anything you may have in mind.” He paused for a moment. “.. And remember, my boy, all the pain he has caused.”
Harry frowned. He couldn’t outright deny the request, because he knew that this was the best chance they had. To get rid of Voldemort before he began. Even if that means killing him.
(Harry had known he would have to kill somebody since he was eleven. He was thrust into the wizarding world with no prior knowledge, just to be told that he was expected to kill somebody.)
So Harry decided to play along. There had to be another option, other than senseless murder. That’s exactly what got them into this mess in the first place, and Harry refused to believe it was the only way out.
Harry would make sure killing Tom Riddle was the absolute last resort. After all, he hadn’t actually done anything until his fifth year, when he opened the Chamber of Secrets.
“Where, er, when exactly, are you sending me?” Harry’s mind was nowhere near as quick as Hermione’s, but he tried to start thinking out his plan of action.
Dumbledore seemed delighted that Harry agreed to the task, as if he didn’t ask a kid to murder another kid. He opened a drawer in his desk and slid a ring out, holding it up for Harry to see the small piece of jewelry. “Turning the stone on this ring counter-clockwise will send you back to 1942, Tom’s fifth year. I’ve written a note to my past-self, explaining your situation.” He handed the ring over to Harry, who spend a moment examining it. “Do not turn it until you are ready. It is only able to send you back once, so make sure you are prepared for the journey.”
The ring was a thin silver band inscribed with what looked like ancient runes, but Harry was never very good at that class. The stone in the middle looked like nothing special, but magic was very misleading at the best of times. It’s royal red hue reminded Harry of Gryffindor, which is probably not a coincidence, knowing Dumbledore, and also something Harry may have to give up soon. He slipped the ring on his right hand, making sure not to accidentally twist the stone. He then brought up an important issue, really hoping Dumbledore thought this through. “Once I go to the past, will I be able to get back?”
Dumbledore nodded. “Of course, my boy. Just spin the ring clockwise and you will end up back in the present. It is hard to say how much time will have passed when you return, but I am quite certain it will have gone slower than your time in the past. However, like going into the past, you are only able to return to the present once. The ring will also need time to recharge once you use it, but I believe a few months will be enough time,” Dumbledore explained.
“Won’t me changing things in the past affect the timeline, though? Hermione said something like that could really disrupt the universe.” Harry didn’t like the idea of being away from his friends so long (at least a few months!!!), but he knew it was necessary for the greater good. Though, none of that would matter if he destroyed the universe in the process with faulty time travel stuff.
Dumbledore handed a letter, probably the one he wrote to his past self, to Harry. It was labeled ‘Albus Dumbledore’ in neat handwriting, which Harry cleverly concluded was, in fact, for the past Dumbledore. “You do not need to worry about the timeline. Just do whatever you think is right, and the universe will move around your choices.”
Harry couldn’t help but think that was slightly conceited, but thanked the Headmaster and left to tell his friends, taking the ring and note with him.
. . . . .
“You’re leaving? Why? For how long?” Hermione instantly questioned him as soon as Harry said he wouldn’t be there.
The boy-who-lived messed with his hair, but didn’t succeed in making it any worse than it already was. “Dumbledore has a new mission for me. I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be gone, but it’s something I have to do.”
“What’s this new mission about? And why now?” Ron was munching on some chips he’d grabbed from the kitchen. He’d claimed that he might as well get his fill of snacks in now, before they have to leave for the summer.
“It’s.. hard to explain. I need to find someone who’s been hiding from Voldemort.” Hermione and Ron involuntarily shivered at the name. “Apparently, they know a lot of information, so I need to get to him before he can find Voldemort and tell him. It’s better I leave sooner than later.”
Hermione accepted the answer with a curt nod, instead asking, “Do you have everything you need packed? Actually, you never know what you might need—I’ll pack you a bag, so don’t leave before tonight.”
Harry gratefully accepted. “Thanks, Hermione. I don’t know where I’d be without you, sometimes.”
“We’d both be dead,” Ron pitched in.
Harry laughed, realizing exactly how true that was. The other two joined in, but it soon died out. It had been a while since they’d last laughed, especially with the new growing threat. “Yeah, we would. But I need to stop at Gringotts first, before I leave.”
Hermione was already planning a list of supplies, muttering under her breath. “Gonna need some potions definitely those books, food- Harry, anything specific you want me to pack?”
“If you need it more, you can keep it, but the Marauder’s Map and my cloak would definitely be helpful,” Harry advised.
Ron had a confused look on his face, but before anyone could comment on it, “Why do you need the Marauder’s Map if you’re leaving? It only maps Hogwarts.”
Hermione shared a look with Ron, and after a moment, they both nodded. Harry understood. “Ron and I are going to continue with our plan and leave Hogwarts. Just because you have a new mission doesn’t make ours any different. I’ll make you a coin like from the DA though, so you’ll be able to find us whenever you finish your task.”
“Thanks, Hermione. Really, you’re the best.” Harry smiled.
Ron feigned a look of hurt. “What about me?”
“You’re both really great. I couldn’t ask for better friends than you guys,” Harry corrected easily, pulling both of them into a hug. “I promise I’ll tell you why I needed the map after I get back. I don’t want to risk the information falling into the wrong hands, if somebody were to use Legilimency.”
“Alright. Be safe, mate.”
. . . . .
It was early the next morning; everything was packed (thanks to Hermione) and Harry was standing alone in the Room of Requirements. He figured that it would be the best place, since he doubted anybody else would be in there, or even knew of the room’s existence. The trio had just eaten breakfast and said their goodbyes, and Harry was on his way.
He turned the gem counter-clockwise, till it clicked after one full turn. There was a flash of light as the world faded out, and Harry could distinctly compare the feeling to that of apparating. And boy, did he hate apparating. Not to say he couldn’t do it, but he couldn’t figure out why anybody would do that more than necessary, even if it was convenient. Harry took a couple deep breaths, trying not to focus on his uneasy stomach. It would disappear quickly enough, anyways. Hopefully.
He looked around the giant room, quickly noticing it looked exactly the same as when he’d left. Harry realized he should probably take off his robes, since it’d be weird if he was already apparently sorted before meeting the Headmaster—who is no longer Dumbledore.
He quickly shook them off and stuffed them hastily into the infinity bag Hermione had made him, after grabbing his wand and the letter out of its pocket.
The smart thing to do now would be to check all of what Hermione had actually packed, and if Harry was here to outsmart Tom Riddle at his own game, he better start now. Which led him to checking inside the bag, distinctly positive he was about to fall in himself. Actually—was that even possible?
Like Hermione had been muttering, she’d packed a bunch of books (to which she would probably consider a small amount). Some were on making potions, some on the Dark Arts, some on charms and spells, and a bunch on whatever other subjects or topics Hermione had decided were important to bring along.
In another separate pile were potions, all neatly pressed together. Each had their own specific label, including descriptions on what they do. Thank Merlin for Hermione. Harry would have to take her to a bookstore when he got home as thanks.
In another part of the bag were stacks upon stacks of food lined up, easily enough for at least a couple of weeks. Well, at least Harry didn’t have to worry about going hungry, even though he was in Hogwarts and starving was probably the least of his concerns right now.
The last prominent group of things that Harry could see would probably be defined as a ‘miscellaneous’ group. It included his invisibility cloak, the map, the coin Hermione had promised to include, and a few other objects that might come in handy at some point.. Somehow. Potion ingredients, some of Fred and George’s prank items from their store, was that more books-
The money was all stacked together in a little pile, since Harry hadn’t known how much he might need, so he’d basically grabbed several handfuls and shoved them into the bag.
“The bag is enchanted with an infinite spell, like mine. There’s a featherweight charm on it, so it won’t get heavier either. I’ve also taken some extra precautions and added some privacy charms; nobody should be able to open your bag except you, and it should alert you when somebody is trying to. And for the food, I’ve added some charms so it won’t spoil and won’t have a smell, either. Though the smelling charm is easily reversible. Merlin knows if you’ll run into some kind of werewolf because they sniffed out your food. I mean, I know this may seem like a lot, but I’ve had a feeling you’d be needing this eventually, so I’ve been preparing it for quite a while, actually. I’m just glad it’s being put to good use.” Hermione had gone on a small rant last night, explaining all the mechanisms of the bag and whatnot, and Harry had tried to pay attention and remember it all the best he could.
Thanks to a handy clock appearing as soon as Harry had thought about what time it was, it was still morning, before classes. Few students would be out of bed, most liking to sleep in as late as possible. Hopefully, that hadn’t changed in the past fifty years.
Harry stepped out into the hall, deciding to immediately make his way to the Headmaster’s to get sorted. Or perhaps to find Dumbledore. Luckily, he didn’t run across any students, which Harry was thankful for, and soon enough, he stood in front of the gargoyles that lead into the room. To which Harry remembered that he didn’t know the password.
“Um, I was told to come see the Headmaster,” Harry tried to reason with the gargoyles. This was basically his only chance of getting in, really, and Harry had always had both terrible and wonderful luck. Terrible luck to get him into very bad situations, and wonderful luck at getting him out alive.
Harry’s learned through trial and error that he is very hard to kill, for some reason. Or perhaps he’s just really good at accidentally staying alive.
Yeah, that sounds more likely.
The stones didn’t move, either ignoring him or not hearing him. Which was unlikely. However, Harry still needed into the room, and was forced to keep guessing random words for a few minutes, which led to the predictable outcome of not working the slightest bit.
“Are you alright?” A new, but familiar, voice interrupted Harry as he was about to mutter ‘Green-dyed peas’ into the air.
To be fair, Harry knew that wasn’t the password, but he had run out of guesses minutes ago.
The boy-who-lived spun around, and was instantly greeted with a younger Dumbledore with auburn hair instead of normal silver.
Well, at least the ring worked. Probably.
He was wearing an.. Interesting.. Shade of orange robes, which most definitely clashed with the purple undertone. And yet, it somehow worked on Dumbledore. Almost.
It took Harry a minute to gain his composure, reaching into his pocket to grab the letter the older Dumbledore had written. “Oh, y- yes. I was just trying to get into the Headmaster’s room. I’m a new student and-” Harry stopped abruptly and, instead, shoved the letter towards the elder wizard. “I think this note explains everything.”
Dumbledore didn’t look a bit surprised, Harry noted, but gently opened the envelope and read the note inside. While reading, he was much more amused than surprised, the twinkle in his eyes showing his growing delight. “It does indeed, Harry. This letter was indeed written by the future me, I can attest.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Professor, what does the letter say?” Harry wondered exactly how much the letter told him.
“It explains that you are on a perilous mission to ‘destroy’ Tom Riddle before he gains too much power.” Dumbledore shook his head. “I can only guess what he’s done in the future to make you use such an unconventional method.”
“Well, sir, I don’t really want to know what it means by ‘destroy’, but,” Harry tried to be polite, “I would appreciate it if you would let me take care of Riddle alone.”
“You do not want my help?” He didn’t seem annoyed or upset, only curious.
Harry shook his head.
“I understand, my boy. I will stay out of your affairs with Mr. Riddle, but if you ever need my help, do not be afraid to ask. I will try to help you however I can,” Dumbledore explained. “My future self seems to trust you greatly, so I will trust you as well.”
Harry smiled. “Thank you, sir. And, uh, do you maybe know today’s date?”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Today is September 1st, 1942. The Hogwarts students will not arrive until later this evening, giving you plenty of time to get sorted in.”
The boy-who-lived thought about his options, making a decision. “Actually.. May I get sorted in private now? I want to make a quick run to Diagon Alley to get some new robes and supplies before school.”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem. I’m on my way to the Headmaster’s room myself, so you are free to join me.”
Dumbledore took a few steps forward, stopping at the gargoyles to say “Peppermint Wonderland”. Harry could practically see the stone creatures sighing in relief at finally receiving the correct password. He followed the professor into the room, spontaneously remembering that Dumbledore was not— is not —the headmaster yet. That title belonged to none other than Armando Dippet.
To be fair, Harry knew that Dumbledore was not the headmaster, but it didn’t really sink in until he saw the room.
Harry immediately realized he was not going to like this Headmaster. Dippet’s room, much unlike Dumbledore’s, was completely neat and organized. There were piles of paperwork stacked on the same desk Harry had just sat at yesterday, and it just seemed to lack.. well, it just seemed to lack the feeling of magic. Everything was so bland and boring, it looked more like a muggle’s office room. Felt like one too.
“Albus, what a.. pleasant.. surprise..” Dippet’s tone clearly stated contradiction.
Dumbledore didn’t seem phased by his tone, just smiled in return. “Headmaster,” And boy, did it feel weird hearing the elder wizard say that. “Harry here was homeschooled up until this summer, but his guardians felt that he should prepare and take his OWLs in a school environment.”
“So he’s a transfer student?” Dippet barely looked up from his paperwork, instead just raising a single eyebrow.
“Yes,” Dumbledore said patiently.
“What’s his name and year?”
Harry didn’t even bother being offended at being treated like he wasn’t there. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time. “Harry Po- Evans, sir. I’m a fifth year.”
If Headmaster Dippet found Harry’s stumble strange, he didn’t show it. Actually, he probably just didn’t care. “You’re 15, Mr. Evans?”
“Yes,” Harry lied.
It had been the end of his sixth year when he’d left for the past, actually 16 years old, and he would’ve been 17 that July. But, this way he would be in the same grade as Riddle, plus he wouldn’t be overburdened with as much work since he knew everything. Or, should know everything.
“Well, let’s get this over with.” Dippet didn’t bother getting up from his seat to grab the Sorting Hat, instead only flicking his wand. He gestured to the had once it had floated softly on the desk.
Thankfully, Harry knew what to do.
“Ah, we meet again, Mr. Potter. Or I suppose I should say Evans. Smart idea, adopting your mother’s name.”
“It was in the spur of the moment, really.”
“You’re on quite a mission this time. Are you going to complain if I offer Slytherin again?”
“Not this time.” Harry smiled. “I don’t regret asking for Gryffindor, though.”
“Yes, you became the most Slytherin Gryffindor to ever roam the halls, but what if you were to become the most Gryffindor Slytherin instead? You would do great things.”
Before Harry can reply, the Sorting Hat yells out, “SLYTHERIN!”
Harry gently took the hat off and set it on the desk. It hardly came as a surprise that the Sorting Hat had no concept of time. He’d dealt with much worse in the past few years to be shocked by something as mundane as that.
“Excuse me, Headmaster Dippet, Professor Dumbledore. I wish to make a quick trip somewhere before school starts, so I must be leaving.” The boy-who-lived didn’t stop to see Dippet’s response, but he somehow didn't feel too bummed about it.
. . . . .
A quick run through the stores in Diagon Alley caught him up on all the supplied he could possibly need to redo his fifth year, including robes in a brand new color.
The design was mostly similar to what Harry was used to in the future, other than a few minor changes here and there. While looking in the mirror, he couldn’t help but notice how the green of his Slytherin robes made his eyes that much more vibrant, in a way that his Gryffindor robes had never been able to do.
Hermione hadn’t packed any pictures of his parents, but Harry would have to live with that. After all, they weren’t even born yet.
It felt slightly weird knowing he was alive before his parents.
Most of the shops resembled the shops of his time, but like his robes, they all had some sort of difference about them. Even the general air was slightly off, and Harry’s not even sure how that was possible. Some of the stores from his time hadn’t even been built yet, which definitely made Harry stop a couple times to stare at the empty space. Other shops looked like they still sold the same things as their future counterpart, but had a different name. And others were the complete opposite, where they had the same name, but seemed to sell a completely different item.
Ollivander’s was still there, of course. Sadly, Harry already had a wand from his time, and wasn’t too keen on finding out what happens when two of the same wand from different times collide. Would it be like brother wands, but worse? Or would it just cause a time paradox and destroy the universe (which Harry is definitely against doing)?
Harry was the only student to not be on the Hogwarts Express at the moment, unless another student had missed it, so Diagon Alley was fairly empty. He wasn’t of legal age to apparate yet, but nobody knew he existed, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Harry definitely hated apparating, but he could deal with his discomfort.
Speaking of discomfort, it was almost noon, and Harry hadn’t eaten since very early that morning. Breakfast wasn’t even served at the time he’d left; the trio had asked the house elves to quickly whip something up.
Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron for some lunch, glad that was still the same. It was slightly weird to see Tom (the bartender one) still there, but looking much younger than usual.
. . . . .
It was later in the afternoon when Harry arrived back at Hogwarts, though there was still a couple hours before the other students would arrive. He’d found a bookstore (surprising, right?) and a Quidditch shop (less surprising) to meander through for a while, but it couldn’t last forever. Harry still had a couple hours to kill before the Sorting Feast, which honestly could not have gone slower.
Starting this year being smart (or trying to be), he explored the castle—trying to see what had changed and what hadn’t. And literally nothing had changed. None of the classrooms seemed to have moved, none of the portraits were missing, or different ones added, the one cracked step on the second floor was still in the exact same shape, nothing had changed.
One would think that at least a couple of things would have changed in 50+ years, but apparently not.
In another random idea of his, he dug through his never-ending back, searching for almost ten minutes through the piles and piles of potions and whatnot, until he was able to find a specific potion. With the effects of the war, Harry already looked a bit older than his actual age, which could easily lead to some misunderstandings.
Harry took a quick look at the thick purple-brown liquid (more like sludge), giving it a very thorough glare of disgust, before downing it all in three gulps. And then spend half a minute coughing at the horrendous taste.
The effects, though, were immediate. With a quick glance in a mirror, Harry confirmed that he looked every part of a small fifth year, instead of a hardened-by-war sixth year.
. . . . .
And finally, the Sorting Feast was upon them. Students came pouring into the Great Hall, filling up the four tables with ease.
Harry was already sitting at the Slytherin table (after almost walking to the Gryffindor one from habit), as well as the teachers in their spots. Dumbledore was talking with another teacher, holding a drink in one hand. Slughorn was also there, looking as jolly as when Harry had last seen him, which was literally fifty years in the future.
It was amazing how much some people could change, and how little others do.
Harry snapped out of his thoughts. A voice, much too familiar, spoke up behind him.
“Excuse me, are you a transfer student?”
Harry swallowed down (the fear-) his emotions, putting on his best mask, before he turned around to face the voice.
Tom Riddle.
. . . . .
Harry
Harry landed softly, with a grace found through millenias of practice. Traveling through time, space, dimensions , with the ease of taking a single step—that was his specialty.
He looked around to see where he’d landed, not a bit surprised when it had taken him to Dumbledore’s office, back when he was Headmaster of Hogwarts in 1997. It had been a long time since Harry had been in this room during this time period, but not long enough for him to forget. (Not that he would ever forget-)
The room was vacant at the moment; Dumbledore must be off doing something. And from the looks of it, he was planning to leave fairly soon. Half of the random trinkets on his desk were sitting in a bag, hanging conveniently off the side of the Headmaster’s chair. Fawkes was also missing, and Harry was sure if he looked, the phoenix’s perch would be somewhere in the bag.
Not that Harry cared about anything in the bag.
No, Harry’s attention was focused on the small book laying in the center of the desk, surrounded by all of Dumbledore’s other knick-knacks.
But this book didn’t belong to Dumbledore.
It belonged to Tom Riddle. It was Tom’s book. It was his diary.
It should not be in Dumbledore’s possession.
The diary looked so familiar to Harry, with the golden letters writing out his soulmate’s name, the black cover wrapping over the pages, the golden corner protectors with their fancy design.
Even the hole through the center, where the basilisk fang pierced through the bindings.
(Hearing his soulmate scream in agony as the venom seeped into his very core-)
Harry frowned. Why were there curses on the diary? He could feel them from across the room—dark curses. Very dark. They were like a bubble around the diary, as if to focus them solely on the small book.
And the curses bring nothing but pain. Nothing but pain and hurt and sorrow and hatred and painpain pain-
And really, the curses on the diary wouldn’t have been too bad, Harry wouldn’t even have cared , if not for the horcrux still trapped within the pages.
(Harry can only imagine Tom screaming in pain, so much pain, until his throat gave out and he’s left sobbing on the ground until his tears dried. And even then, the curses continue, unrelenting in their role.)
(Harry will make Dumbledore pay for hurting his soulmate. His Tom.)
Harry gently grabbed the diary from the desk, gently stroking the worn binding. He unraveled each and every curse, one at a time, until there were none left.
And yet, the horcrux inside was still weak.
Weak from the mind-numbing pain that had encompassed him for the past three years.
Harry continues to soothingly rub the diary, sending a small stream of his magic into the horcrux. He continued like that for a few minutes, until the sound of somebody entering snapped him back into reality. Or, whatever reality means in this universe, really. (He remembers the one dimension where nothing except shapes existed, as if somebody had deleted the entire universe except triangles and squares. Not even the concept of color existed.)
Harry watched the door open, then popped away before anybody could have seen him.
He wondered what Dumbledore would think of the diary suddenly missing. But, no matter what he thought, he would never be able to find it again.
(The same for his wand, actually, which had appeared in Harry’s pocket only a second after he’d arrived in the dimension. That’s always what it did, in any dimension, so why would this one differ?)
Harry found himself standing outside of Hogwarts, and he looked upon the castle with a sense of nostalgia that had been twice removed. He continued to stare, absentmindedly stroking the diary again.
He could feel the horcrux inside the diary, still so weak, but gaining power every second. Soon it would be enough to heal his injuries, and perhaps Harry will try and talk when his throat feels better. Perhaps even visit Tom inside of the diary.
Harry thinks that sounds like a wonderful idea indeed.
He was snapped out of his musings by a very familiar voice, though he hadn’t heard it in thousands upon thousands of years.
“Harry?” Hermione had a confused expression on her face, and her tone matched. “What are you doing here? We thought you left on your mission this morning.”
Ron spoke up next, “Yeah, mate. You told us you were leaving! What changed?”
Harry took a moment to comprehend their words. It had been a while since humans had spoken to him, acting as if they knew him. He tried to remember how he had acted in his first life, before he’d met Tom, before he knew he was immortal, before he’d traveled through thousands upon thousands of worlds and dimensions.
He had been really naive back then.
And yet, he almost wishes he could still have the illusion of mortality again, even if only for a moment.
“Ah, sorry guys.” Harry messed up his hair, smiling. “There was a.. Change of plans. Dumbledore decided it was too dangerous to send me to do the mission, or maybe he was just worried I would mess it up, but I think he’s sending someone from the Order instead. Either that, or doing it himself. I’m not really sure.”
Hermione pieced everything together first. “If you’re not going on your mission, then are we going back to the original plan?”
“As if you can call it a plan!” Ron laughed.
Hermione ignored him.
“Yeah, I’m coming along with you guys. If you still want me, I mean.” Harry slipped into his role with ease—he’d had many years of practice, after all.
“Of course we still want you, mate!” Ron and Hermione almost tackled him into a hug.
Harry smiled again, and it was a bit more real this time. Perhaps coming here hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
Harry had all but forgotten how to act human without Tom. (Tom always brought out the human in him.)
Hermione’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, sounding a lot more tense than it had a moment ago. “Harry, is that- Isn’t that Tom Riddle’s diary?”
Ron’s eyes immediately flickered down to the book, backing up and scowling. “I thought that it was destroyed back in second year- You said you stabbed it with a basilisk fang.”
“I did.” Harry lifted the book up, showing the hole going through the middle of the binding. “The diary was in Dumbledore’s office, under a lot of really dark curses. The horcrux is still alive, but only barely.”
“Well, then now is the perfect time to destroy it once and for all!” Ron exclaimed.
Harry ignored him, looking down at the book. “He was in so much pain. I want- I want to help him.”
Hermione, always the logical one, only tilted her head. “Why would you want to help him, Harry? After all he’s done?”
“Tom doesn’t deserve to be tortured. Those curses had been on him for three years, Hermione,” Harry explained. “I don’t- I’ve been in his place before. It is not a fun place to be in—to be tortured within an inch of your life.”
“He was being tortured for three years?” Hermione looks oddly upset at that fact, despite her previous tenseness towards the diary.
Harry nodded. “Yes.”
“What do you mean by tortured , Harry?” Ron asked, gaining a sickly pale color, all his anger already fading fast.
Harry thought about it for a moment, trying to find the best way to describe it. “It could be compared to a never-ending Cruciatus Curse. One of the curses made sure he couldn’t regenerate any magic, another made sure his injuries wouldn’t heal, and several were powerful harming spells, charmed to last forever without a break. The last curse made sure he wouldn’t actually die from any of it.”
Ron looked positively ill. Hermione, for all her logicality, wasn’t faring much better.
Harry gave them a moment to compose themselves before he continued. “.. Would you mind terribly, if I helped him?”
Ron was the first to shake his head, then looked as if he regretted the sudden motion. “Nah mate, go right ahead. I’ll even help you!”
Hermione pursed her lips. “I don’t- I don’t understand why the Headmaster would do something like that. Are you sure you aren’t mistaken, Harry?”
“I’m not mistaken. The curses had Dumbledore’s magic all over them, and the diary was on his desk,” Harry stated.
Hermione was quiet for a moment, as if she was having an internal battle between her trust in authority figures and trust in Harry, who has the proof right in front of them. “.. I don’t like this, Harry. I really don’t. I don’t like how the horcrux apparently survived a basilisk fang. I don’t like how Dumbledore put those curses on it. I don’t like how the horcrux was tortured for years. I don’t like it. I don’t.” She buried her face in her hands, and when she lifted her head back up, she had a look of determination in her eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Harry. Maybe you can ask him where the other horcruxes would be.”
Harry gripped the diary (his soulmate-) tighter, holding it close to his chest. “Thank you, Hermione, Ron.” This time, he couldn’t stop the small smile from appearing on his face. “Don’t worry, Tom will not hurt me.”
Ron and Hermione looked a bit doubtful of that, but whatever they saw in Harry’s eyes kept them from commenting.