Chapter Text
To Whom it May Concern:
This letter is charmed to deliver itself to the head of the DMLE in the event of Lord Voldemort's death. Congratulations are in order. If all has gone according to plan, Voldemort's six horcruxes: his diary, the Gaunt family ring, Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, and his serpent, Nagini, have been destroyed. In that order, no less, which incidentally is also the order in which they were made. However, Nagini was not made into a horcrux following the diadem. I have kept this secret from all except Severus Snape, whom I expect to have deceased by the sending of this letter, for reasons that I am sure will be immediately clear. Nagini did not follow the diadem, Harry Potter did, though neither he nor Lord Voldemort were aware of this.
Harry Potter was Lord Voldemort's sixth horcrux. Nagini was his seventh. If Harry Potter did not die in the battle that ended Voldemort's regime of terror, Voldemort is not truly gone.
In sincere hope,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Supreme Warlock, Chief Mugwump, Order of Merlin First Class, Headmaster
"This is ridiculous!" Hermione scoffed.
Harry rolled his eyes, of course it was ridiculous, it was also par for the course, so he had no idea why she expected anything different. The aurors had surrounded them and Neville where they searched through the battlefield for any survivors. He'd already broken and burned the Elder Wand and chucked the dumb ass pebble into the lake. He was pretty sure they weren't going to find any more survivors, as they'd been at it for hours, and most of the other searchers had quit the field. Harry just wasn't ready to give up yet. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys were gathered in the Great Hall around Fred's shrouded body as they waited for clearance to take him for their funeral traditions, and Harry was loath to disrupt their justified mourning.
"I don't get it," Neville frowned, "Voldemort tried to kill Harry just about every year since we started."
"At least twice that we know of in First year alone," Hermione put in.
"And he wouldn't have if Harry was his Horcrux, so this can't be right," Neville nodded firmly.
God, this was going to suck. Harry could already feel a headache coming on.
"The letter says neither of them knew, which removes that argument," the auror in charge, someone Harry had never met before, asserted. "I must ask the two of you to stand aside from the Horcrux."
They didn't. They stood even closer, subtly gripping wands tighter. Harry wished they wouldn't, even if it did fill him with warmth. Enough people had died already.
"I did die, though," Harry sighed, knowing it wasn't actually going to help. They'd already made up their minds. Harry just wasn't ready to give up yet. "I just didn't stay dead because the Horcrux died in my stead."
"What Voldemort's Horcrux would say," scoffed someone from behind the trio. The aurors all shifted, lifting their wands aggressively.
"One way to be sure," the lead auror grinned cruelly. "Avada Kedavra!"
"No!"
At least he wasn't alone, right?
***
So, this was… unexpected. You weren’t slated to be here again for a good while.
“Eh, it happens.”
You gave up the wand and the stone.
“The wand was nothing but trouble and the stone… gave me what I needed but it’s not going to be helpful like that to anyone else.”
You realize this means my debts are repaid, and I have no Master now.
“Good. Nobody needs a Master. Glad I could help.”
You did. For which I thank you.
"Wait, then why did you even have them?"
Well, there's a half dozen of us Aspects of Existence, and we're all immortal and not really connected to the lives of mortals. We get bored. Unbelievably bored.
"Okay? So were the Hallows a prank one of the other Aspects played on you or one you played on one of Them?"
The Hallows are merely further evidence of Fate being a complete bitch, which you already knew.
"I did know that, yes. Happy to help screw Fate's plans over. Anytime."
Death laughed. It was disturbing.
So you did, Henry James Antioch Potter. And so you shall continue.
“Huh?”
***
He woke up alone.
“Ouch, bloody he-” Harry cursed, rubbing his head. He’d woken up in a dark box, filled with still, stagnant air. A particularly small box with an uneven ceiling on which he had hit his head as he sat up. Dread filled him as the smell of dust itched his nose and he fumbled in the dark for his wand. He couldn’t find it, so he switched to fumbling for a door. He found that. Right where it was on his cupboard. Which he hadn't slept in since he was ten. Oh no. Nope nope nope.
Number Four Privet Drive didn’t ever change much. The Dursleys were Respectable, and did not follow Fads, thank you very much. It made the house very boring.
There were a few exceptions. The wallpaper by the stairs, for instance, had been changed during his second year at Hogwarts, due to exploding pudding stains.
This was the old wallpaper.
He slipped silently through the house to the kitchen, where a daily calendar sat on the table by the phone, and checked the date. It was the summer solstice. Of the year he turned eleven. The trip to the Zoo was tomorrow. A month before he got his own room and met Coldshorts. Two before Hogwarts and Fumblemore's shenanigans.
“Nope,” he said softly to himself. "Not. Doing. It. Again."