AN: Well, here it is. Two years in the making. I hope it lives up. :D
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter Twenty - Through the Looking Glass
Hermione could barely see past the smoke and hear through the explosions of magic.
Behind cover, the heat was stifling and it felt like she couldn't breathe, but she pushed these distractions aside, telling herself that Angelica needed her, and that Harry needed her. She tried to calm her mind as she sat huddled with Ginny and Ron.
Ron had brought out the mirror and had summoned Fleur for help. Hermione didn't know how they explained it all in one breath, but they did, and Fleur was quick to action. She was a curse-breaker-one of the best they'd ever had in Gringott's. She'd undone curses in the tombs of Egypt, cleared traps from the Incan ruins, and beat the riddles that protected the treasures of Atlantis. She would know how to walk through this wall of flames unharmed, right?
"It cannot be done," she said curtly. "One simply does not walk through fire. I am good, but I cannot perform miracles."
Hermione wondered if screaming would help at the moment.
"But it does not mean we cannot get to ze other side," Fleur briskly added, which was, much to Hermione's wonder, an instant font of hope in a barren desert of hopelessness. "The papers talked about what happened in Skye before and zis is the same, yes? A wall of fire?"
Hermione nodded.
"I `ave thought about zis and I believe I `ave a solution."
There was a brief scuffle from Fleur's end, and they heard her crying out the name of Gringott's. The following puff of smoke was evidence that she was going to her workplace.
Until then, Hermione hadn't realized that Fleur had direct access to Gringott's from her Flue. It made some sort of sense, Hermione supposed. The same way Muggle employees had VPN access to their computer networks from home, it would only be right that the Wizarding world would have some kind of telecommutation, and she could only assume that the access spells from Fleur's Flue at home to the one she had at Gringott's must be seriously secure, but still, it amazed her that there were things that still surprised her.
"And she said I work too much," Ginny grumbled, parallel to Hermione's own thoughts.
They could hear Fleur talking to someone-demanding to see someone, and Hermione flinched at the thought that Fleur was in any way trying to get her way with the Goblins. It was never a good idea to trifle with them, but Hermione figured that if anyone can boss Goblins around, it would be Fleur.
It didn't take long and Fleur quickly got back to them. "Zer is a spell we use when someone gets trapped in one of our vaults and zey could not handle ze enclosed space," she said from the mirror. She looked like she was busy writing something as she spoke. "Eet does not happen often, but it does, and unfortunately, sometimes ze person locked in ze vault has ze key on his person, and vaults cannot be opened from ze inside as a safeguard of sorts. It ees difficult to get a spare key because if it were easy, zen Gringotts would not be very good keepers of value, eh? It takes many hours to open and zat presents a problem for ze claustrophobic type. So while we work on opening ze vault, we can take ze person's consciousness out of ze vault with a personal object and a host. Ze personal object can be owned by ze person trapped, or the ze host. Ze trapped one will inhabit ze consciousness of the host, while ze host will inhabit the consciousness of the one in ze vault."
"That's a rather unfair exchange, isn't it?" Ron said. "So the other person gets stuck in the vault?"
Fleur nodded. "Yes. Ze idea is that the one who suffers claustrophobia would not have to endure fear for very long. The difficulty of zis spell, you'd imagine, is to find a host willing to endure hours of boredom in a vault. It must also be authorized by a special seal-enchanted, of course, and administered by the seal's Keeper. Authorization can only be drawn by a Gringott's officer, so as not to be illegal. I have drawn up the authorization and Keeper, Goblin Barter Lock, will administer the seal. He is stamping the seal as we speak… ah! Much thanks Goblin Lock! What will you do wizout me? Nobody else could have gotten zis done so quickly and surely."
Ron sniffed. "Well, I'm the one who told you to stay home, didn't I?"
Fleur nodded. "But, of course you are right, mon grande. I could not have gotten to Gringott's so quickly wizout my Flue."
Ron appeared to be at a loss for words. Hermione could only assume that Fleur admitting that her greatness had to do with someone else was decidedly disconcerting.
Fleur grinned. "Now tell me the exchange object and cast ze spell with your special Key Word."
Ginny scowled. "The only two people in there that we could possibly host are Harry and Angelica. We don't even know if Angelica's still herself and Harry-well, he's the only one powerful enough to beat this and it sure as hell wouldn't be a good idea to take him out of there."
Ron scowled right back."Fleur's doing her best, Ginny. You needn't-"
"I'm just saying!"
Hermione spoke up before the siblings' argument escalated. "I can inhabit Narcissa. Malfoy gave me her pendant. It's perfect."
That stunned Ginny, but Ron certainly had something to say about it.
"And what makes you think I'll let you go in there by yourself?" he demanded.
"There's no time for this, Ron. Fleur, tell me how to do the spell."
Ron glared at her. "Hermione-"
"Shut up, Ron," Ginny snapped. "Angelica needs Hermione. And everyone in that circle needs us to be here."
Hermione had to appreciate Ginny's take-charge manner. "I'm ready, Fleur."
Fleur nodded. "I'm officially entering your name and Narcissa's, as well as the focus object that bridges you to her into the authorization form… now the spell works this way, Hermione. First know that the activating spell is Verto …"
Hermione listened, her fingers fidgeting nervously over Narcissa's ring on the chain around her neck. Irrationally, she wondered whether this meant that she now owed Draco. No doubt, he'd think so, but if this was going to save Harry and Angelica, she couldn't imagine that he'd ask anything that she couldn't give.
--------------------------
Harry always thought that the bright, green flash of Avada Kedavra was a sight to see. Beautiful, even, but he figured that was the Horcrux-resurrected part of him talking. Whatever it is that compelled him to appreciate the colors of a dark spell, he had spent the last few lucid years remembering that moment in time that he had been killed by an Unforgiveable Curse. He had examined, by memory, how the curse left Voldemort's wand, how long it took for it to get to him, how much thrust it had when he actually fought it off with Excalibur, and finally how it felt as it took the life from his body.
Avada Kedavra was surprisingly pain-free. It was like closing his eyes and simply ending. To a morbid extent, that took the fear out of the curse itself. Add that to the fact that he had been brought back to life-he had acquired a somewhat academic fascination for it, rather than the petrifying terror he once had.
It wasn't unfathomable, considering he had quite a bit of time in Avalon to just sit down and think.
And so as he stared down the funnel of this Avada Kedavra and thought, I know where this is headed.
He whipped out Excalibur and swung.
The sword connected with the curse and it bounced off its magical steel surface. The curse careened like a ball into the ground, the soil absorbing the curse and waning.
The look of surprise on Angelica's face was eerily familiar, but it was quickly wiped away by indignation. Voldemort flung another curse and Harry jumped to avoid it, just as Bellatrix threw another curse from another direction. Harry could barely shout out Petrificus Totalus, let alone aim it accurately. And even if he did manage to catch Voldemort, he just knew Bellatrix would be there to get him. He was outnumbered simply because he couldn't even think to hurt Angelica's body. The only thing keeping him alive was Voldemort's slight inability to manipulate Angelica's body perfectly and Bellatrix's tendency to hold back in deference to her master.
He had to think of a way out of this, fast, without leaving Angelica behind.
It was then, at the corner of his eye, that he saw Narcissa's passive form begin to spasm to life. Her head tilted one way while her arms flailed another.
Bellatrix's jelly legs curse caught his limb and he stumbled to the ground.
He could see the murderous delight in Angelica's eyes, the red pinpricks of light glowing from the very eyes that had once looked at him with pure love and adoration, and she raised her arm for a curse, possibly the Killing one, but her focus was interrupted when Bellatrix gave an unexpected shriek.
Bellatrix stumbled to the ground, Narcissa on top of her, her hand clutching a fist full of Bellatrix's hair.
"Cissy!" cried Bellatrix, utterly helpless in the face of confusion. The last thing she expected was being attacked by Narcissa, her invalid sister.
Narcissa seemed to move with purpose. Whilst holding Bellatrix to the ground, she wrenched Bellatrix's wand from her and used it with uncanny lucidity.
"Expelliarmus!"
Voldemort's wand went flying out of Angelica's hand with a quaint tweak.
Bellatrix looked horrified, for once unable to react the way her master expected her. "No, Cissy!"
Narcissa seemed determined in whatever it was she was setting out to do. The wand was now aimed point-blank between Bellatrix's eyes. "Stupefy!"
The curse sent her flying back several feet, knocked out of consciousness.
Voldemort did not waste time in anger. He made a dash for his wand.
Harry could not risk waiting long. If he was going to get Voldemort out of Angelica, he had to do it now, and he had to prevent Voldemort from prolonging the fight. "Somnus iam!"
His aim was true and the curse caught Angelica in the back. She stumbled to the ground, twitching disturbingly.
Narcissa gave a cry, making a rush for Angelica's prone form. "Angelica! Oh, dear God-"
Harry whipped his wand at Narcissa. "Stay away! Don't you--!"
"It's me! It's Hermione!" she cried, raising her hands, her eyes desperate and pleading. "You and I, we spent that one afternoon in the attic, and you asked about your Quidditch Jersey, yes? And I asked you about your black book, which you `allegedly' never had. Then you said the priestesses weren't sperm bandits. For God's sake, you need to believe me! Or do you wish me to tell you even more embarrassing things?"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He did believe her. Only Hermione would be clever enough to spout things only the two of them would know to prove herself, but it was terribly disconcerting coming from the face off Narcissa. "How did you-never mind. You need to put me to sleep. I need to get in there with Angelica. It's the only way to save her."
"But-"
"Quickly. Angelica and I, we can see each other in our dreams. We can see Voldemort, too. It's the only way I can drive him out of her. Please… Voldemort's not going to stay asleep for very long." He clasped her wrist, pleading for her to listen. It was strange, to be touching Narcissa this way-the way he would touch Hermione, but it was in the eyes, he supposed. He had never gazed at Narcissa and saw worry, certainly not love, gazing back, but with Hermione's soul behind Narcissa's soulless eyes, it made a world of difference.
His words finally seemed to register and she nodded. "Promise me you'll bring her back safe. Promise me you'll be careful."
He nodded. "I will bring her back safely."
When Harry promised no more than that, he saw her breath hitch, but she nodded, knowing that she had to do as he asked. Flicking Bellatrix's wand, she said the incantation. "Somnus iam."
Harry felt his eyes go heavy and his head spin. The last thing he saw was Narcissa catching him as he fell into the deep abyss of his dreams.
----------------------------
It was always darker, this side of his reality. Yet, sleep hadn't been very restful for him the last seven years.
The ground beneath his feet churned uneasily and the sound of nightmares echoed in the distance. Always close enough to devour him, but never quite reaching, he had to fight the temptation of giving in, because embracing the darkness always seemed full of promise-easier. Freeing.
It had always been close, but never this close. This time, he could almost feel the cold breath of it on his neck. He could hear the whispers more clearly.
I can help you destroy him. I can help you save her. He is powerful and you will need help. Let me help you. Let me help you…
He felt power surge through him and he curled his fists, trying not to harness the magic, but he couldn't help it. The ground shook at his will. It was nothing like he had felt before. He already knew what he could do with it.
Then the power receded, unable to find purchase in him. He had to give himself entirely to it. He had to give his full consent.
A taste…
Harry shook himself, pushing back the voice. It became more distant.
"I don't need you," Harry said out loud.
The voice stopped, knowing that it would be a waste to tempt him now. It would bide its time. It always did. It always swooped in at his weakest.
Carefully, he made his way through the madness of his mind, focusing himself to find that connection-that path that bridged Angelica's consciousness with his.
So many times in the past, he had strayed onto that bridge, his dark self trying to wind its way into her mind. The poisonous ivy and Devil's Snare crawled upon her walls, trying to choke the bits and pieces of her essence that got through, picking and worming into the tiny cracks and crevices wrought by sheer persistence through the years, but her magic was strong and pure, even unharnessed by an artificial implement, like a wand.
He never really found a way through, even if he had caught a glimpse of her from afar, or heard the beguiling warmth of her music. He didn't know who she was then, or what she was to him, all he knew was that she was a being that his dark self sought to destroy, while his true self fought to preserve her.
As he caught sight of the wall that separated his essence from hers, he felt terror clench him from within. He saw the wall destroyed, the stones and runes that held fast against his presence was shattered, bits and pieces lying on the ground.
Beyond the gaping hole, her sense of self-her sanctuary, was desecrated. The books and bric-a-brac that once lined her beautiful, oaken shelves lay splayed and splattered on the floor, pages and hard covers singed in some and wet and blotted with ink and water in others.
Her reading chair was gutted and overturned. Her fireplace was a refuse of cold, moldy, half-charred wood. The lamps were knocked over and shattered. The candles were puddles of rancid, blackened wax.
The darkness that once tried to destroy the barrier between them now seeped through what once was her chamber of safety, eating at her life, her vibrancy, and her magic. There existed another barrier still-that door and wall beyond this chamber of her mind, but the wood and brick comprising it was rotting. He could see light filtering through tiny cracks. It was not long for fighting. The darkness was eating her alive.
And it wasn't just Voldemort's darkness. It was his as well. He was consuming his own daughter, and it made him sick to his soul.
"Angelica!" he cried out, searching for her. "Can you hear me? Angelica!"
I can help you find her.
Harry shoved off the voice, but the feelings of panic and fear blossomed in him and it began to open that dark door within his heart. There was a heaviness in his chest, and when next he called out to her, his voice took on that deep, inhuman timbre.
He clutched at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate.
The voice in his mind continued to whisper, but he fought to focus, finding that tendril of life that connected her to him.
Why fight me? I can help you.
"No," he whispered, searching desperately within himself to find that light that never could be extinguished-so long as Angelica was alive. And she had to be alive. He couldn't believe that Voldemort would destroy her so quickly. She was powerful and-as much as Harry hated to admit it-useful, and Voldemort would recognize that. He wouldn't dispose of her so quickly.
He reached out and flung his net of consciousness, looking, searching, and feeling.
The darkness of his mind was vast. He had travelled it for seven years and still, he had never fully understood the scope of it. There had been barren forests and silent hills, cold, rocky mountains and forbidding chasms. The only life that existed was his own, his true self fleeing from the demons that swooped above, lurked in the shadows, and bided its time beneath water. He constantly had to find places to hide-the hollows of trees, caves that were really just cracks in the rocks, burrows that were meant for smaller beasts, and the spaces beneath the bracken of dead things carpeting the ground.
But even with yet so much unfamiliar terrain, he knew that someone else had invaded his landscape. Voldemort had altered the geography and it was making things more impossible.
He felt a thread brush against his magic. It was small, bright, and it flowed with warmth, but there was so little of it that he couldn't follow its trail.
Desperate, he tried to grasp it, but touching it made it wither in his hands, dissipating like ash. He wanted to cry out in frustration.
Let me give you some advice…
He heard the dark laughter that followed it and he knew he was going to listen.
It is the darkness in you that is strong.
Harry knew this to be true. He closed his eyes, searching for Voldemort's dark magic.
At first, the horrible stench of it was overwhelming, but as his senses adjusted, he felt where it thrived and thickened.
He followed it instantly, running miles at high speed, jumping wide and high chasms, and climbing jagged mountains. The farther he went, the darker and colder it got. The Arctic chill made his teeth chatter, and his fingers felt frozen enough to fall off. He warmed himself, finding a well of heat within him just so the cold wouldn't drive him insane with pain.
After what felt like an eternal climb, he came upon a shelf on the mountain. Snow and ice buffeted him from all around, and as the ice crunched beneath his feet, he saw it-a gaping hole in the rock.
He couldn't be certain of what it was-it could have been a cave, with shards of black ice coming from above and below. The place shuddered and rumbled uneasily.
Harry didn't like the sound of it. It made him nervous.
You're in the mouth of a demon… a beast hungry for something he could never get back… life.
It sent a shiver through him, but there was no time to be afraid. He stepped through the mouth of the monster.
"Angelica!" he cried again.
His voice echoed in the cavern.
At first, there was nothing but the eerie return of his voice, but as he poised himself to shout Angelica's name again, he heard a shuffling in the shadows.
From the darkness, Angelica emerged, fear etched into her eyes. She was white with ice, her skin glowing pale and translucent, like she was turning to ice herself. She shivered and shuddered, her shoulders tight from hugging herself. Her bright green eyes, the only part of her that showed any warmth at all, blinked slowly.
Harry motioned to go to her but he stopped when he saw the shadow behind her move.
Voldemort slowly emerged-no, not Voldemort.
"Tom," Harry said, surprised. "Haven't seen you in a while."
Tom Riddle, handsome in his Hogwarts robes, cocked a grin. He looked completely unbothered by the cold. His cheeks glowed with life and he moved with perfect grace. "We meet again, and how odd that I couldn't help but feel a strong sense of déjà vu."
Harry refused to give Tom control of the conversation. He looked to Angelica. "Are you alright?"
Angelica looked about ready to burst into tears. She shook her head. "I feel sick. And cold."
She grows weak… we need to help her.
Harry hardened his will. "I know, but it's going to be alright. I'm going to get you out of here."
"Please, dad-"
Tom shook her and she flopped about like a rag doll, stumbling as her legs shook.
She collapsed at Tom's feet, barely able to sit up.
Anxiety roiled inside Harry. He needed her to be strong. He was afraid that if he fought Tom while in her weakened state, she would perish. He needed to find a way to revive her.
His connection with her was thinning. It was her connection with Tom that was strong right now. If Harry could get Tom to return some of her power to her…
But why would he? You need me to take care of this. You cannot beat Tom at his game. You must fight fire with fire.
A second voice, a distant one, more him than the other that tormented him, spoke in warning tone… Evil with evil…
Harry tore his eyes away from Angelica to look Tom in the eyes. "You haven't changed much, have you? Still going after young, defenseless children."
Tom waved off Harry's taunts. "It is not a preference on my part. I hope you understand… it is the convenience that drives me, but I must admit, taking your daughter is infinitely more satisfying than taking just any witch."
"I went to hell and back to be with my family again, Tom. If you harm her, you won't stand a chance against me. You tried to kill her mother once, and you failed. I can destroy you again, and believe me, I will make you feel pain."
Tom smirked. "It is not my intention to harm her. She just happens to have what I need. Her powers are great and her body is young. She will make a wonderful new vessel for me to live again. However, as you might have seen, her six year old sensibilities can affect me. I do not aspire to go through puberty again. It's too embarrassing. I will if I have to, but there's another way-even a better way. Give yourself up and I will leave her alone. Your body will be mine, and if you're cooperative, you'll continue to exist in my consciousness. We will rule the Wizarding World together. How about that?"
"Sounds like paradise," Harry muttered.
Tom seemed annoyed. "It isn't as if you hadn't been tempted, Potter. You've spent the last seven years fighting and hiding from your demons, but it has only been difficult because you've wanted to give in. The power it has promised is as alluring to you as it is to me."
He's right. You know he's right…
"Shut up," Harry hissed. "You know nothing about me. I've struggled these last seven years because I refused to give in. Again, that makes me different from you."
Tom shrugged, waving his wand and conjuring a chair. He sat on it with graceful aplomb. "Perhaps, but I'm not above understanding your desires. We can coexist, you and I. We can have this power that we crave, and I'll let you be with your woman and child when you want. Miss Granger has grown to be quite the witch and I don't mind being with her at all, Mudblood though she is-"
"Don't talk about her like that. You have no right. I would never let you get near her, let alone have you touch her."
"It was merely a suggestion. A generous one, at that. If you don't-"
"It doesn't mean I'm not considering your first offer."
Tom's gaze perked. "Well, hello."
At his feet, Angelica gave a whimper, sinking to the floor with her arms unable to hold her. "Daddy, no…"
"Hush, child," Tom said, rising from his seat without giving her a glance. "This is only just getting interesting. You are considering the exchange, Potter? Your body for your daughter's?"
Harry nodded. "You leave her alone and I'll let you have me. But there are other conditions."
"Conditions?"
"You have to leave the rest of my family alone, too."
"The rest of your family is dead."
"You know who I mean. Hermione, Ron, Ron's family, Remus… you can't ever harm them. If you do, you'll die."
"Die?"
"Because you'll swear on it, on an Unbreakable Vow."
Tom paused, then laughed, as if it were the most absurd idea he'd ever heard. "Even if I agree to this Unbreakable Vow, we need a third person to administer it."
"Angelica can do it. Believe it or not, she's even more clever than her mother. She'd be able to do the charm."
"She's too weak to do it."
"No vow, no deal."
Tom frowned. His annoyance became even more apparent at the curling of his lips. He flicked his hand dismissively towards Angelica. "Then I take her."
"I `ll destroy you if you try. Will you risk my wrath if I'm willing to let you take me?"
"My power is greater than yours."
"Go ahead. Try. Let's find out just how powerful I am when I'm angry."
Tom tensed, his jaw twitching, and his glare shot daggers at Harry, as if enraged that somehow, the boy had grown some kind of brain. Finally, he gave off something that was half a hiss and half a sigh. "Very well. An Unbreakable Vow it is. You strike a hard bargain, Potter. But you know I'll try to find a way around it. I always do. They'll be torn to shreds after I'm done with them, all without breaking any promises."
Harry felt deep anxiety at Tom's words. He knew them to be true. For every promise of honor Tom made, there would be an equivalent promise of harm. But in spite of his fear, he nodded. "I'll take the chance. My mother's love protected me all those years. My love will do the same for them, but you wouldn't know that power, would you?"
Tom sniffed in disdain. "Do I look like a weakling?"
Show's how much you know, thought Harry with bitter outrage.
Tom walked over to Angelica and Harry watched him warily. Every muscle was poised to strike if Tom made one false move. Tom was the picture of apathy, gliding gracefully and without care. If it weren't for the split second distracted flicker in Tom's gaze, a heartbeat's uncertainty in his gait, Harry would not have realized that Tom was just as anxious as he was.
At the very least, Harry found that empowering.
Tom touched her shoulder.
Instantly, the color returned to Angelica's cheeks. Icicles on her skin melting away bit by bit as she gained warmth. She still looked pale, but it was her natural tone. She was more herself. Strengthened, though not in full. She pushed herself up to a sitting position.
She looked up at Tom, frowning, the once dying fire in her eyes blazing to life. "I won't do it. I won't do the spell."
"Tell that to your father," Tom said, dragging her none too gently to her feet.
She rose, her legs strong and sure, and she wrenched her arm away from him.
Harry felt pride rise from the aspect of his true self. That's my girl...
With a snarl, Tom let her go and turned from her. It was then Harry saw the change.
Tom looked older, like he had aged ten years. And he looked less human, more his reptilian self, his eyes just the tiniest bit sharper, his nose less pronounced, and his fingers slightly bonier.
Angelica stood rigidly in place, her face stubborn as she stared back at Harry, unafraid of the entity beside her that had grown more the monster that he was. "Dad, no."
"It's the only way," Harry said, conjuring a replica of his wand and holding out his arm to Tom.
Tom took the arm in his. "It's simple enough, child. Speak the terms of the vow… you have been listening, haven't you?"
For a moment, Angelica refused to cooperate in the slightest.
Harry shot her a look, and through their thinning connection that his pride for her had managed to renew, he said, Trust me…
Angelica pursed her lips, but she nodded.
Harry handed her his wand and she took it. "We'll answer each of the terms with an `I will' while you hold your wand on our joined hands. It's easy. Do you think you can do this for me?"
"I can, but… I don't want to lose you, daddy." Tears were pooling in her eyes and her lower lip trembled.
Harry wanted nothing more but to comfort her, but this was too important. "I can protect you better than you can protect us both, remember? Be a good girl and do it for dad. It's going to be alright."
She looked up at him and his words appeared to trigger something inside her. She nodded and delicately put his wand to their conjoined hands.
I can help you… said that foreign voice inside him. I can help you overcome him.
Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for what he was about to do.
That, you can, he replied. Show me what you've got then.
The presence in him reared in terrible delight. He felt the power rush through him, raising the hairs on his back and firing his magic like he'd never seen.
Tom gave a start of surprise and tried to pull away, but Harry tightened his grip like iron hooks.
A blast of wind assaulted them and Harry could feel the power radiating from his pores. He sought the thread that connected Tom with Angelica and lashed at it, slicing through it with sadistic glee.
Angelica screamed as she was thrown back, crashing into the icy walls of the cavern. Her body connected with the ice and it shattered under the force of her presence.
Where once there was darkness, light began to shine through. The ice surrounding her halo of light began to melt, and familiar images of her mind began to creep through the dread.
"Dad!" she cried amidst the roaring wind.
Harry shot Tom a feral smile. "You want me, Tom? I'm right here. Yours for the taking."
Tom looked angrier than Harry had ever seen and immediately, Tom's presence snaked into Harry, beginning the possession.
Harry let Tom in while the dark presence washed over him from the other side, both entities overwhelming his true self. What little remained of the person he longed to become was dying.
"We can rule together, you and I," Harry said, his voice low and malevolent, way beyond his control. "We'll be unstoppable."
Tom was surprised for only a second, and he smiled. "Took you long enough to realize that."
Harry felt the great power coursing through him and the sickening glee that emanated from his dark self.
He heard a faint voice in the distance, a pleading, woeful voice that said, Please listen! He couldn't understand what it meant and he didn't care. The intense power building in the pit of his magic was intoxicating. He couldn't possibly need anything else.
Angelica, came that pleading voice again. Don't forget Angelica!
The feelings of ecstasy were interrupted and that distant voice became loud and strong.
She needs you. Angelica needs you.
His visions of power and domination faded in the background and he could see Angelica through the haze. She stood beyond the darkness of the cavern within the circle of a lush paradise, fighting against the darkness that was still trying to overwhelm her. She looked terrified, but determined. She was calling to him, arms and hands reaching in his direction.
Fight your demons. Fight them for her.
An involuntary chuckle rose from his throat. "Too late for that."
In the deep recesses of his heart, he felt betrayed by himself. His love for his daughter had pushed him to seek power, but it would be that power that would destroy them all.
Tom was laughing. He was triumphant. He had known that Harry couldn't have possibly succeeded with this plan. Harry was failing and he could do nothing about it.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Angelica…
What little of himself was left looked to his daughter, his eyes filled with painful regret.
For a moment, she seemed lost and helpless. He could feel her fear. Even fed off it.
"It's over," he said in that familiar demonic drawl.
It was then Angelica's demeanor changed. Her fear was gone, and from it grew petulance, and finally, anger.
"No!" she shrieked, stomping her foot. "You can't take my dad away! I won't let you!"
Tom was vastly amused, and Harry felt his lips stretching into a smirk. I could've sworn that was the Mudblood speaking.
Something in Harry reared to life. "Don't talk about her that way!" he growled.
A warm thread of power flared within him, causing Tom and his dark self to growl with animosity. The changing personalities within him was maddening. He didn't know if he could take any more of it. The warmth dissipated almost immediately, replaced by the cold darkness.
Then there was another presence.
Not from within Harry. It was outside of his dark circle.
Angelica's side of the dreamscape glowed brighter and flowers blossomed all around her. An entity stepped fluidly from behind her, one hand upon Angelica's shoulder. Angelica seemed completely unbothered by this.
The entity was made of liquid crystal.
No, not crystal… water.
The water flowed into the shape of a woman, her liquid hair blowing in the breeze and her figure rippling with the light of Angelica's sun.
"I won't let you take my dad," said Angelica, more calmly, but with clear decision. "I won't lose him again."
How cute, Tom said.
But Harry's dark half was recoiling and he could feel his more familiar self emerging from the cold darkness of his consciousness.
His hands lifted to welcome her.
What are you doing? demanded Tom.
Harry felt his hands freeze, and then begin to pull away. His true self having gained some strength, he fought to keep his arms open to receive.
The woman left Angelica behind as she came to him, gliding towards him and trailing flowers as she went.
Harry's dark self protested with a roar and Tom was both enraged and confused.
Cold wind howled through the cavern, making a sound like a freight train. Rocks and slivers of dark crystals began to explode between them. And just when Harry was convinced that salvation was impossible, the rocks were blown clear away. At the other side, Angelica stood determined, furious, even.
She was breathing with rage, and Harry remembered this little girl. He had seen her once, in a kitchen, desperately trying to make everything right.
"You can't take my dad away!" she shrieked.
The magic sang with powerful chords, shining blinding light through the darkness.
---------------------------
Hermione felt a tingle through the hand that pressed upon Angelica's chest. Electric, like a shock, and Hermione couldn't help jerking her hand back.
Panic welled inside her. What was that? What did it mean? Something was happening and yet Hermione was helpless.
The faint shock revived at her finger tips, travelling up her arm and then into her head. It was then that Hermione heard it.
Give him the sword…
She didn't know where it came from. It might have been Angelica's voice, but it was so faint, she wasn't sure.
It didn't matter. It was an order and it couldn't possibly be bad if it was telling her to give Harry Excalibur, right?
A trickle of doubt suddenly came over her. Excalibur, she knew, was Machiavellian in its ways.
Give him the sword NOW.
Hermoine felt that jolt of force, and she was compelled. She stood, scrambled to grab the sword, and laid it upon Harry's chest. Carefully, she folded Harry's limp hands upon the hilt and Hermione had to stifle her tears, remembering how Medieval kings were laid in caskets that looked exactly like this-a king dressed in resplendent knight's armor, a shield and sword laid theatrically over their breasts.
She pushed the thought back, hoping she was doing the right thing.
It was then that sword began to glow and that familiar, ethereal note began to sing through its blade.
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The woman, made of water, flowed through the hole that Angelica had punched through the wall of rock.
The woman slipped into Harry's waiting arms and he embraced all of her. She was the strength of everything Avalon stood for: justice, righteousness, courage, and sacrifice.
Her lips were upon his ear and she whispered the words. "Live for justice and courage…"
Harry knew the words that came next. "…And you shall be immortal."
The magic burst forth as he spoke the words. His true self strengthened, wrapping Tom and the dark entity within him into a captive shell.
He was holding the lady now, and she was the sword. He gripped the sword by the hilt, feeling it smooth in his palms. The weight of it felt like nothing and he lifted it above his head, sharp tip down.
You can't! cried the voices of protest inside him. You haven't the strength to destroy yourself. You haven't the selflessness to leave it all behind!
Tom panicked then, and Harry felt him pulling away, scrambling to escape.
"It ends here," Harry said, the timbre of his voice his own. His grip held true and he plunged the sword into him, magic steel piercing through his and Tom's soul.
Tom roared and Harry's dark half wailed like a banshee. Harry felt immense pain and cries of agony ripped out of his mouth. The voices in his head were deafening and he crumpled to the ground. The sword burned, searing him and burning Tom away like an infection.
As the presence of Tom and his darkened self weakened, the sword faded, as if it was using every bit of its magic to eradicate the filth within him.
The sword disappeared and he bled heavier. He was surprised by it. He didn't think he could bleed in this dreamscape, but he did.
A shadowy ooze seeped through his wound and on his hands. And as he fell to the ground, the life that flowed out of him spilled through the dark soil. His dark half leaked out of him as Tom burned, dying.
Tom wasn't the only one who was dying.
Snape would probably say, "Well, Potter, not like this is the first time you've tried to kill yourself. Surely, even a dunderhead like you can get it right the second time."
He hadn't actually been thinking of suicide. He probably didn't even think that this plan of his included dying, yet here he was, and all he could think of was the snarky things Snape would say. It almost made him giggle.
A scream of pure horror pierced through his nonsensical thoughts. "No, no, no! It wasn't supposed to be this way!"
Tom's screamed grew distant as the last bit of him was seared, and in his final throes he held on to immortality with an iron grip, even as it effortlessly fell away from his grasp.
As the darkness in Harry receded, he felt, for the first time in seven years, at complete peace. There was no dark shadow lurking. There was no horrible, malevolent voice in the background, no temptation lurking in his heart. He remembered, with peaceful bliss, that this was the joy he once knew, when he stepped for the first time into Diagon Alley, and the whole world was a new and wonderful place.
He smiled as two dainty, childlike hands pressed upon his chest. He thought perhaps this wasn't so bad, after all, but then sharp pain wracked him once again and he felt the lifeblood spilling from his lips.
"You're bleeding!" Angelica cried. "Make it stop, Daddy!"
Not this time, sprog… he thought with surprisingly mild regret.
Looking up, he saw her tear-stained face. There was nothing but paradise surrounding her, and he happily realized that he was within this beauty, that what remained of his darkness was disappearing in the ground beneath him as he bled.
Perhaps realizing that there was nothing either of them could do, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed for several seconds. He let her, letting her grief wash over him.
"Daddy?" she whispered, finally, her voice quavering. "Why? Why would you do that? I-I didn't want you to destroy yourself."
He swallowed and found that it was harder to speak than he thought. He shook his head and managed to croak out the words. "It was the only way."
"Daddy…"
"You're safe…" He felt it then, a warmth that began at his feet. He looked, and saw, with calm surprise, that he was crumbling into the soil-turning into earth, and as his earthen self melded with the ground, vines and grass sprouted. The transformation climbed up to his knees and the vines crept.
It was then Angelica saw it and she gave a yowl of terror.
Oddly, he felt no fear. Only peace, and the reassurance that Angelica, though a part of him, would no longer be the vessel off his torn soul.
She fell upon him, crying with painful heaves. He wished he could alleviate her sadness. He wished he could stop her tears, but he couldn't keep the dreamscape from swallowing him.
He lifted Angelica's face, pressing his lips to her forehead.
She whimpered as the vines crept over his body, his arms, and finally, his eyes.
Feeling no pain, he simply faded, the sound of her sobs the last thing he would hear.
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The fires around them began to wane, and Hermione felt her heart leap to her throat.
And then the pain began. It started with a tingle on her arm and then it grew hotter.
Hermione's yelp of surprise became a keeling wail of agony. She threw back her sleeve, screaming through her teeth, and she saw that Narcissa's Dark Mark was glowing a searing, dark red.
It felt like an iron brand being pressed to her skin, and the suffering would not end.
She fell back on the hard earth, felt her body twisting from a link that felt like it was being wrenched out of her very navel.
The pain was eating her alive, and as she left consciousness, it was as if the valley was filled with her screams.
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The spells stopped flying, and the valley echoed with the most inhuman sounds of doomed wailing.
Ron felt a chill run down his spine, like a Dementor had sucked the warmth from his body. He was horrified, and Ginny didn't look very well herself. The color had drained from her face, and her grip on his arm tightened with fear.
"Gryffindor's Get, isn't that just the most dreadful sound you've ever heard?" she said under her breath.
That was quite the understatement. It was frightening enough to make him throw up.
He was frozen. He was too afraid to move, but he looked over to Hermione's body, tied hand and foot as she lay on the ground on her side. Her gaze was distant; unbothered.
"Dark Lord…" she whispered.
Ron shuddered.
"What? What is `appening? Ron Weasley, report!"
Fleur's voice pierced through his haze and trembling, Ron picked up the mirror. "I-I don't know. Everything's stopped. Everything's just-there were these sounds."
A voice called out from a distance. A blessedly normal sound.
"Surrender your wands!"
It was the voice of authority. The voice of an Auror.
Shaklebolt.
A few Death Eaters climbed out of their hiding places, their arms held high and their wands flying out of their hands. Aurors began to spill out into the field, shouting stern orders at the surrendering Death Eaters. There were bodies sprawled all over the field, most of them Death Eaters, and Ron didn't know if they were dead.
"I think it's over," Ron muttered.
"Over?" came Fleur's voice from the Mirror. "Over! Ron Weasley-"
Ron tossed the mirror to Ginny, who gave a yelp of protest.
He rushed towards Narcissa's body, where Angelica and Harry's bodies lay.
Narcissa-
No, Hermione.
Hermione lay with her body twisted in pain, sweat beading at her forehead. She was breathing shallowly, as if caught in a nightmare, but she was alive for now. He tore his gaze from her as he fell upon Angelica, pressing his fingers to her neck. She had a pulse. She was warm and her breathing was even.
Someone was suddenly sobbing with relief, and he realized it was him. Through the haze of his tears, he checked Angelica with his wand. Nothing was broken. She was whole inside and out, but there was no telling if her mind would be her own once she woke.
He cradled her against him and reached out to touch Harry's hand.
It was cold. It was so cold.
And when that thin line of red began to blossom from Harry's chest, Ron felt that creeping, horrendously familiar sensation-that same terrible inevitability that he had experienced before, that he was watching his best friend die and disintegrate before his very eyes.
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Ginny gripped the mirror in her hand, her heart beating to a wild crescendo. She looked around her frantically, trying to make sense of the situation.
"I demand to know what is `appening!" Fleur cried from the mirror. "Ginny Weasley, is everyone alright? Where is Ronald?"
Amidst the shouting of Aurors and the dying fire of spells, Ginny realized that the sky was clearing overhead. The dark clouds parted and the sun began to shine down on the plains of Skye. The last time she was on that field, she had watched death and devastation under a gloomy sky. She remembered standing numb and heartbroken as George told her that her first love was gone, and that the pyre leaping with flames in the middle of the field was Harry Potter.
It was perhaps then that the first inklings of her part in the destruction came into memory. She didn't think much on it at the time. There were too many things going on, the first of them being was that the entire future she had planned for her and Harry was gone, that her hero, her savior, would not be alive to share her life with her.
And just when she was getting over that, the heard, without being told, really, that Hermione Granger was pregnant.
Nobody knew for sure who the father was at the time. Everyone seemed to have a guess. She knew she heard Fleur mention, "I did not even know Hermione was dating anyone." And she also heard Fred say to George, "Well, I think this is one prank that either Ron or Harry has one up on us."
Ginny got that Fred was making a joke, but why include Harry in it?
It was only when Molly Weasley, in fact, had said, "Merlin, Arthur! I thought you talked to Ron about this sort of thing!" that Ginny began to realize what Fred meant. Hermione hadn't been dating anyone. It could be no one but Ron or Harry, and Ginny knew, in the pit of her stomach, that Harry could've, though she didn't want to believe it.
Harry had dumped her because he didn't want her to get hurt. He loved her, didn't he? He had been waiting until after the war so they can live happily ever after, right?
She had cornered Ron in the hospital then, and because denial was raging in her heart, she stared him in the eyes and said, "Right brilliant of you to get Hermione pregnant, Ron. Whatever were you thinking?"
Ron had stared at her for a couple of heartbeats and then raised himself to full height, words poised on his lips. His eyes were stubborn and defensive, like he was going to say exactly what she was hoping he would, like, "It's none of your business what Hermione and I do!" or "You know what I was thinking and it had nothing to do with all of you, so shove off!" But then the light in his eyes faded, and he sank back against the wall. He looked away from her, sighing and defeated.
"Gin…" he paused again, trying to find the words. "I'm not the father. Hermione and I… we didn't… it was Harry, Gin. It was Harry."
And so hearing that, her heart felt ground to bits, and she did feel a great sense of betrayal. She was cognizant of the fact that there were worse things that were going on. Harry had died. She would not have exchanged that for his faithful love, but still, it hurt, and that she had no one to turn to about it only made it harder.
So the anger, loss, and betrayal somewhat distracted her for several months. She hadn't thought beyond that until she and Hermione made up. It felt nice to be friends with Hermione again, and she realized it made forgiving, and perhaps even forgetting, so much easier. Ginny was just so glad that things were beginning to look up, and she actually helped arrange Hermione's baby shower.
It was only then, amidst the laughter and cooing, did it occur to Ginny that she had dreamed true at the McFustys' castle. That she was the reason Voldemort had found them out.
Up until then, Ginny had thought that the worse of fates was losing one's true love to death. She found out, with sickening horror, that being the cause of his death was much, much worse.
Amends weren't even the half of it. She was determined to make up for it, yes, but she had felt an evil lurking, and she was going to do everything-everything in her power to protect Harry's daughter from it. Angelica will not succumb to whatever unnamed force this was that sought to destroy her. Ginny decided that it would be her vocation. She would find out what this thing was and destroy it. In the meantime, she would have long talks with Angelica, find out if the child dreamed true like her father did.
She made sketches of Angelica's dreams, the way Angelica described them. She drew shadows and figures, and the Water Lady. She always drew the Water Lady.
Of course, at the time, Ginny wasn't really certain that it was out to get Angelica, and whether it was capable in any way of harming her, but Ginny was not ready to take chances. What she felt-that sensation of a sentient thing hovering and biding its time, was ever familiar to her, and it was not a good feeling. She just knew, in the pit of her stomach, that Angelica was in danger. She was too late to save Angelica's father, but she had sworn to protect his child, and she lived that vow for all of Angelica's life.
So it was an obsession. It kept Ginny up nights, and whatever extra time she had, she spent it taking classes on first aid, water rescue, emergency procedures, all driven by a desire to protect and make sure that while the entity could not take Angelica, the common dangers of life wouldn't, either.
And now she was on the fields of Skye, poised once again on the precipice of tragedy.
She watched mutely as Ron held Angelica to himself and reached out to touch Harry. She could see blood, and she could see the pain in Ron's eyes.
As Fleur demanded her to tell her what was going on, Ginny began to find equilibrium in the chaos.
She looked at Hermione's body and knew that no one would harm it. Narcissa's thoughts rambled from Hermione's lips and Ginny would just have to hope that whoever found Hermione would have the presence of mind to keep her sedated, at least, if not tied.
Rushing over to Ron, she began to plan what she was going to do.
She had several debts to pay and it was time she buckled down and took account.
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