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It was almost dawn when they won, the sun can almost be seen at the skyline. The war ended, it was the moment of history.
Harry Potter never got to see the sun of May 2nd 1998, though.
(Or, Harry Potter killed himself right after killing his own soulmate, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but was given another chance by Death to be with his soulmate. Set in 1943, Tom Riddle's 5th year. And oh, Harry Potter has PTSD.)
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“Potter…why is a horcrux of the Dark Lord sitting in your living room in muggle Surrey?” Severus Snape slowly and calmly asked as if he was holding onto his last thread of sanity while waiting for the answer.
“Well, we met back in my second year at school, became friends since I didn’t know who his future self was, he tried to kill me, I killed him, and then he floated around the aether for a couple years,” Harry sighed. It was all so very complex.
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Everyone has had a summer from hell after what happened with the Triwizard Tournament. Literally everyone, even the part of Voldemort's soul that he thought he'd gotten rid of so very long ago. When Harry Potter's worst enemy asks for his help though...well, that pesky saving people thing just really gets in the way.
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Bookmarked by Ddol_AD
28 Jun 2025
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Прочитано до 24 главы
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He didn’t bow his head. Merely waited as Voldemort reached a pale long finger out and brushed his fringe back. “The symbol of my downfall.” Voldemort hissed, face drawing into a scowl. Harry tilted his head to the side.
“Or your way to victory.” Harry said, smiling. Voldemort’s eyes pressed into his and he said nothing for a long moment. “Use your magic on me. You’ll realise. You’ve always been smart and knowledgeable.” Watching Voldemort parse through the meaning of those words, he waited. Then a tip of that long finger pressed against his scar and that heady magic enveloped him. His eyelashes fluttered in pleasure from the contact. Then it was gone abruptly as it’d pressed in.
🐍My horcrux.🐍 Voldemort hissed, eyes widening slightly. Harry nodded his head and thought about rising but decided against it. This position was hardly hurting him, and he knew to the outside world it’d put him more in their favour as it looked like he was following their Lord. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question, but Harry nodded anyway. “And what is it you want?”
“Simply.” Harry let a smirk, dark and cold, lift his lips. “You.”
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Harry Potter dies a hero in the Forbidden Forest—or so the world believes.
But when the final spell goes awry, Voldemort finds himself with something far more dangerous than a corpse: a Harry who has forgotten everything. His name, his friends, the war. Even who Voldemort is.
And Tom Riddle, ever the opportunist, decides to rewrite history in his image.
As the wizarding world rebuilds beneath the shadow of the Dark Lord’s regime, a memoryless Harry wakes in Riddle Manor, chained to a bed and told he is married to the man everyone once called a monster. Outside, rebellion stirs. Inside, something far stranger begins to grow.
Love is a lie.
But so is everything else.