Chapter Text
Absence
Absence: a lack of something, or a situation where something or someone isn't present.
Example: "The letter had arrived during his absence"
~
Absence, that's all Harry Potter felt anymore. I strong emptiness in his head. Voldemort was dead after all, he had shared his mind and soul with that man for so long he didn't know how to feel without him there.
His friends though him crazy but they hadn't known what it was like, they don't know the feeling of being so close to someone that their soul is attached to your own. It left Harry wondering around, a hollow shell of who he used to be.
Voldemort's lifeless body stayed with his conscience, it tormented him. Every time he closed his eyes he would see it. Soon he stopped sleeping, he couldn't sleep even if he tried. Sleep potions were useless, they kept him trapped in the nightmares unable to wake up.
To weeks after the battle Harry was back living with the Dursley's except this break there were no insults, no slaps, no list of chores. The Dursley's were too scared by Harry's state to do any of that.
No longer able to bare the space between them Harry left the Dursley's home three in the morning and made his way to Voldemort's grave in hysterics.
The man's magic hummed through the cold stone and Harry threw himself upon it.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He couldn't bring himself to open the casing, to see the lifeless body. Voldemort didn't deserve to die like that. He deserved to die like a god, no some pathetic mortal.
Sobs wracked through his throat, shaking his entire body. An endless steam of tears fell into the stone casing, sliding off and soaking into the soil beneath his knees.
The magic running through the stone was very recognisable as the Dark Lords but it had a tinge to it, death. The man was dead and his magic had no where to go, no one to be passed onto.
What right did Harry have to end the Dark Lord? One of the most powerful men to ever exist, killed by a child. Harry should have worshiped him, listened to his every word but no, he ket himself be manipulated by Dumbledore. Even in death that man played Harry like a fiddle.
Dumbledore had made Harry kill the only thing that was important because in the end he was the only thing important. He was part of Harry as much as Harry was part of him, they were soul mates. Perfect for each other. Harry couldn't let that go. He couldn't live without his Lord, he refused to.
A new determination sparked in his chest as he leant down to whisper against the stone. "I'm bringing you back. I don't care what I have to do, I'm will bringing you back." He pressed a single kiss to the stone before he was off, a newfound fire in his chest. If people had thought Harry was determined to kill the Dark Lord they haven't seen him determined to bring the man back.
There had to be a way, there just had to be.
Slowly Harry lost contact with the people surrounding him, no matter how hard they tried, Harry wouldn't let them in. He thought of them as a distractions and he couldn't afford distractions. Not when he was working on something so important.
That holidays he lived and breathed the Black family library. He read every single book in that library, no matter how dark or illegal it was, it didn't matter. Either he would get caught but his Lord would be back, he would take care of Harry or he got caught and his Lord wasn't back, then Harry deserved whatever punishment he would receive and more.
There was never going to be an easy way to get his Lord back, that Harry had known from the get go. Yet now as his stitched together different rituals in hopes that with the will of Lady magic it just might work he worried. The fear of disappointing his lord once more set it and he knew that he was only going to be able to have one shot at this. People would find out, they would prevent him back from trying again.
A knock on his door stole his attention from preparing the ritual objects.
"What?" He snapped, pushing his satchel under his bed sheets.
Hermione Granger edged her way into the room, Ronald Weasley following close behind her.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry eyed them with caution, why were they at the Dursley's? Were they onto him? He stayed silent, waiting for them to speak.
Ron rubbed his neck and stepped forward. "Mate, we need to talk."
"What about?"
"About you! About your behaviour!" Hermione shouted abruptly, obviously irritated..
"You've been acting odd mate, ever since the battle at Hogwarts."
"You haven't been answering our letters or coming to visit us, we've been worried."
"Oh I'm sorry, do you expect me to fight a war and act the way I used to? After what I did." He mumbled the last part, turning his face away from his friends.
"You saved everyone Harry!"
"Not everyone." He muttered darkly, pushing the manicured hand off of his shoulder. "You two should leave, you know my Uncle doesn't like when you're here."
"Listen mate, why don't you come stay with us at the burrow for the rest of the holidays? Might do you some good." They were not going to give up easily.
Harry looked his friends in the eye, faking a tired looking smile.
"Thank you guys, I just need some more time to grieve. I'll see you again at school, I promise."
Looking slightly happier the two wrapped Harry in hugs before leaving him alone. He quickly returned to his bag, making sure everything was there before slipping out the window to catch the Knight bus.
He entered the graveyard breathing in the magic. It buzzed stronger than before, as if it knew what was going to happen. Voldemort's magic itself wrapped around Harry as the boy prepared for what was to come.
Opening the coffin and ignoring the sharp pang in his heart he placed the objects around his master. Shattered pieces of objects that used to contain his soul. It had taken Harry weeks to hunt them down, many nights sifting through dirt he'd collecting hoping he could get as much as a splinter.
By using a ritual to return spattered pieces of ones soul, altered slightly, Harry hoped it might work. The pieces were small, no where near large enough to have kept Voldemort alive but his soul was still in there, a very small piece but a piece no less. He would use parseltongue to strengthen the spell as it was a purely magical language it made all spells stronger and he would also use an offering to help strengthen Voldemort's body, he would offer a direct feeding line to his life force. Voldemort, once revived, would be able to feed off of Harry until his body was strong enough to protect itself.
It was very risky, it contained of countless maybes but Harry had to try, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.
So gently he prepared himself, straddling his lord and holding his hands to the man's temples he relaxed to make the transition as painless as possible and let the parseltounge fall from his lips.
His magic whipped around him, now clearly visible to passing onlookers, intertwining with what was left of Voldemort's own magic. It felt like electricity running beneath his skin, transferring from him to Voldemort like they were one once again.
Pain bloomed deep inside Harry's chest, his life force dripping slowly out of his chest and latching onto Voldemort, resembling liquid gold.
Shouts of Harry's name sounded out through the graveyard, the remaining members of the order attempting to circle around them. They couldn't get too close as soon ad they got within two meters the magic surround Harry and Voldemort would lash out and zap them.
The pain ceased and the magic relaxed slightly, drawing in closer to Harry. Harry watched Voldemort expectantly, waiting something to happen but he was disappointed. It hadn't worked.
His hands shook and he feel to his knees once more, grief tightening around his heart.
"Harry, step away from Voldemort's body." Harry's head whipped up, a fire in his eyes.
"You do not get to call him that! You are not worthy of saying his name!"
The remainders of the Order of the Phoenix gathered around Harry, fear in their eyes and hands shaking as they raised their wands.
"Harry, please."
"I'm not worthy." Harry whispered quietly, ignoring the group closing it on him. He looked down at his hands and weeped. He hadn't done it, he hadn't been able to save his lord.
"Come to us, mate."
"Never."
A new feeling began to flow through his body and he welcomed the familiar sensation. There was no sharp pain like there used to be, this time it felt warm. The type of warmth you feel in your chest when you reunite with a long lost loved one. The feeling made Harry's head spin. Thank lady magic, their souls were still attached.
Someone stood in front of him, covering him from the Order. Voldemort drew his wand, towering over Harry who looked up at his Lord with pure idolatry.
Swiftly Voldemort dealt with the Order one by one before looking down to Harry.
He looked different, no longer snake like, he was a mature version of the dairy Tom Riddle.
Perfectly wavy chestnut brown hair, angular face, pale flesh and deep blue eyes. He looked perfect. More like an angel than a dark lord.
"You bought me back, Potter?"
"I couldn't live without you." The boy choked out, eyes flickering all over Tom's body as if he looked away he might disappear. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know what I was doing! I should have listened to you, not Dumbledore. I should have been on your side!"
Tom watched with concealed surprise watching tears streak down Harry's porcelain cheeks. Bending down he gently grasped Harry's chin, angling his head to look the boy in his avada green eyes.
"You gave me your life force."
"I did."
"Why?"
"We're one. We are joined together by ours souls, you feel it don't you? I've always felt it, even when it was purely pain." With a nod from Voldemort Harry continued. "When you died, I felt so empty, so lonely. I wanted you back. I needed you back. It was like the biggest part of myself was just... gone."
"You could have died trying to bring me back."
"Without you, there was no point in me living anyway."
Voldemort hummed thoughtfully, stroking a thumb down Harry's cheek.
"And now that I'm alive, you know I will try to take the wizarding world once more." Harry's eyes lit up, a wicked smile playing on his lips as his hand shot up to grab the Dark Lord's hand and press in into his cheek.
"This time you will succeed. With me by your side, My Lord."
"How can I trust you, Potter? You were born to kill me."
"Not anymore, not now that the prophecy is completed." Looking Voldemort dead in the eyes Harry took one of the riskiest steps of all. "I, Harry Potter, swear by my magic and all that I am I will stay by the Dark Lord's side and help him the best I can to succeed at any goal he wishes to accomplish. I will never try to stop or hurt him unless it is for his own benefit, so mote it be."
"Well Potter, that's all I needed to hear."
Ignoring all rational thought Voldemort surged forward and captured Harry's lips with his own.