Work Text:
May 3, 1998
Harry Potter was no stranger to the opinionated stares of his peers. Joy, sorrow, admiration, and disgust had been his constant companions since his arrival at Hogwarts, and he could feel all of these and more in the gazes of those who watched from the towers. Indeed, he stood as one among few, if any, who believed in the necessity of his task.
Yet on he pressed, determined in his course, with Lord Voldemort’s body floating behind him.
He had cleansed himself of the dirt and the blood, had exchanged his torn, battle-worn clothing for a simple set of robes, before deciding what to do with the corpse. Professor McGonagall had suggested burying it in the Forbidden Forest, a proposition that Firenze promptly rejected. His relationship with his brethren was strained at best, and if he had any hope of returning to the herd, he could not allow such a being to be buried in their home.
“For we have not so soon forgotten his defiling of the unicorn,” he added, glancing at Harry and Hagrid, and that had settled the matter.
“Well, we cannot keep him here,” Professor Flitwick squeaked.
“No, indeed,” replied McGonagall. “But perhaps… Potter, what about the Chamber of Secrets?”
Murmurs of approval arose from those gathered, but Harry sighed.
“If I understand it right, I can’t speak Parseltongue anymore since the horcrux in me was destroyed.”
“But did not Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger open it nonetheless?”
“True,” Professor Binns interjected, “but I would argue that the last thing we need is for curious students to go looking for the Dark Lord’s resting place.” Agreement sounded around the table. “After all, though Lord Voldemort is dead, his followers remain, and hatred is not solved in a single generation. We cannot give them a martyr.”
“Professor Binns is right,” declared McGonagall. “Then he cannot be buried. The body must be destroyed.”
“I’ll do it,” Harry said. “It should be me. And I know where.”
It was bad enough that he had to walk with the body. Touching it was another matter. All the same, Harry had departed from the school grounds and could now apparate, but he had to take the body with him, and that meant holding onto it.
Then again, he had contained a piece of Voldemort’s soul within himself for sixteen years. Unpleasant though this was, at least there was no tether to bring him back again, and he would be rid of his old enemy soon enough.
He stood by his words. He had to deal with the body, and he had to do it alone. It seemed a sense of closure. He had been alone, beside his mother’s body, when Voldemort had vanished the first time. He would be alone now, ensuring the Dark Lord had vanished for good.
And while some things were better left unsaid, there remained those few that had to be.
As the world materialized around him, Harry was fourteen again, and the body that hung behind now stood before, very much alive, and very, very dangerous.
Bone of the Father, he remembered. Blood of the Enemy. Flesh of the Servant.
I can touch him now.
With a sweep of his wand, Harry hurled the body forward. The memory vanished, and the graveyard echoed as Voldemort crashed into the dirt and stone.
Little Hangleton. Among these gravestones, Lord Voldemort had been reborn. There was no other place, Harry knew, to destroy his body and his name. His ashes would be scattered beside the bones of Tom Riddle, Sr., and the wizarding world would know peace. Harry Potter would know peace.
“Incendio.”
Fire leapt from the tip of Harry’s wand, enveloping the body of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and erasing the last trace of him from this world. His soul, however, would remain in limbo for all time, and as the smell of burning flesh and robes permeated the air, Harry spoke again.
“I don’t know if you can hear me where you are, Tom, but I hope so. I want you to know something. I want you to know that there will never, ever be another wizard like you. And there will never be another wizard like me. I want you to know that I’m going to take care of everyone you’ve hurt. My friends will help me fix what you ruined, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I want you to know that your hate has made you powerless. Most of all, I want you to know that you had a choice, and now you’re paying for it. Goodbye, Tom. You can’t touch anyone anymore.”
The world dissolved around him, and Harry returned to Hogwarts.
He had work to do.