Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated copyrighted ideas are used without permission and are the sole property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. This means they are not mine, and I am not attempting to derive any profit from using the wonderful world provided by JKR. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I only hope I can live up to that standard. So again, not mine. After all, if it were, I'd write this and keep it to myself until it was published so I could be even moreso the richest woman in Britain. Except I'm not rich, female, or British. Anyways, I think that's enough of a disclaimer.
Rating: NC-17 - I'm an adult, and I expect others to be. This story will contain, by the time it is finished, violence, angst, and pain, as well as graphic sexual situations. Consider this a fair warning. Don't read if you think I might offend you. And I'm sure I'll offend some one, it's a gift.
Explored Relationships: Harry/Hermione, Draco/Ginny (Minor)
Summary: Years after Harry defeats Lord Voldemort, his loss of everything will make him give up the one thing he still has to try and get it back. Cryptic enough? Read the story, I'm not giving away my secrets without you at least asking first.
Author's Further Notes: As I'm not a particularly gifted author, my idea of a chapter is a group of events that fit together, not "30 pages" or "4500 words". Chapters might as well be called sections, but that just sounds odd in a story. Consider this a warning, some 'chapters' will be painfully short. As much pain as this causes to my readers, please complain about something other than, or, at least, disguise it artistically.
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Prologue: Regrets
It was a dark and stormy night the voice whispered into the man's mind. And of course, that brought it all back to him, rushing back with horrifying clarity. Well, it started to, anyways.
Nearly thirty years of dark and stormy nights had helped him finally block out the memories. The memories of the night the world had finally been forced to change, and a night when the name Harry Potter became not just a name recognized in the wizarding world for living, but also for killing.
Harry Potter had spent twenty seven years waiting for tonight to arrive. He knew the potion would work, beyond a shadow of a doubt, even if he no longer had Hermione or Ron or…
Anyone. They were all dead. The entire Order of the Phoenix, every member of the group he had led called Dumbledore's Army. No one remained to reassure him that his actions were right. No one to check his homework or compare notes with, and no one to give him a grade
They had won, though. Well, he had, but at what horrid cost.
He had hunted them down, destroyed them, any and all of them who had escaped his wrath when he had finally broken through the curse given to him by the traitor…
A friend once. He had taken his time on that one, stripping the memories, learning why it had been done.
He had developed his own curses by that time, horrid, evil dark things, brought on by his guilt and pain. Those few Aurors who were left had left him alone, though. They could not have stopped him if they had tried.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had taken care of their most powerful, leaving only the weakest behind, ones he could have dominated. Had Harry shown any desire to do so, when at the end he had won, he could have ruled the world.
But when his vengeance was done, only one thing had remained, and that was his guilt. He had joined the Department of Mysteries, hoping to learn, to speak with, to…
Anything to be able to undo what had been done. Time was studied there, prophecy and death.
And love.
It always came back the Department of Mysteries. Three times he had been there, and each of those was instrumental in contributing to tonight.
Fifth Year at Hogwarts. The death of Sirius. The prophecy. The near loss of his two best friends. All because of a saving-people-thing. She had always understood him, he had not realized how much his life would be changed that night, or, at the very least, by that night. It had taken him until he had gotten home to realize it…
Long dark hair, untidy, swished as the man at the table shook his head. He had made his choice and lived by it. Unfortunately, that was just out of his reach now. Those consequences were permanent. But everything after he walked out of King's Cross leading the Dursleys was not. Just barely, if the potion worked perfectly.
Not that there was an opportunity to test it. This was a one shot, the end of a lifetime's work for a man whose life achievement had been complete before he could have joined the Muggle army.
Which brought him to his second visit to the Department of Mysteries. Frankly it had been the Ministry's last chance. The entire Ministry had been arrayed, with the extraordinarily successful Order and Dumbledore's army backing them up as the last ditch defense.
It had barely been enough. Would not have been, if it had not been for the Boy-Who-Lived. They had pushed the attacking dark wizards and their allies up out of the Department of Mysteries, into the Atrium… when he had killed them. Well, her.
And he had lost control. One death had saved everything. A woman for a boy, a boy who saved the world.
It had happened before, it happened again. His greatest strength, his greatest guilt. His most harrowing loss of all. A loss that was not a loss, so many tried to tell him. Like Luna, when Sirius died.
Which was why, six years later he had returned to the Department of Mysteries. They did not even try to deny him, and all the shame he had once felt about using his name for effect was gone. He used it ruthlessly to get what he wanted, and at the same time, advanced their understanding of Mystery so very much in such a short time. Three years he had spent underground, never once leaving the building until he had what he needed, knew what he needed.
It had then taken him fifteen more years to design and collect the elements of his potion. All it needed was two more ingredients, and he would add them both tonight. He, Harry Potter, would, tonight, save the world again. And this time, he would save himself as well.
If they had known what he was planning to do, the rebuilt Ministry would have stopped him. There were Aurors today, born in a time when the Wars of Voldemort were something that only appeared in books of recent history. Enough of them, perhaps, accompanied by the right Unspeakables, could have stopped him, had they chosen to do so.
But he had seen to it no one would know. And if he failed, no doubt the world would wonder why the great Harry Potter had committed suicide.