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Harry was equal parts brave and ambitious. If he ever lacked those two traits, he wouldn't be where he was in life. He was brave enough to stand against Voldemort, and he was ambitious enough to take down the Dark Lord. However, things evidently wouldn't go in his favor as he trudged out to the forbidden forest during the Battle of Hogwarts. He had to die so that others could take care of killing Voldemort. He only hoped that his death would be painless.
Voldemort was grinning as Harry approached.
Harry remained silent, listening and watching for Nagini.
The maddened Dark Lord didn't appreciate that silence, and he made it known by hitting Harry with the Cruciatus Curse.
Harry collapsed to the forest floor, screaming and thrashing as an excruciating pain shot up and down his body and filled his mind.
After several agonizing moments, the spell stopped.
Harry gasped for breath as he tried desperately to keep his rational mind about him. Voldemort said something, but Harry couldn't quite comprehend the words. He could only groan as he tried to ground himself by digging his nails into the dirt beneath the grass.
Then, something hit his ribs hard.
Harry heard them crack just as he felt the cartilage holding his sternum to his lower line shift. He gasped from the pain, only to quickly wince at the feeling of his lungs aching. He tried to even put his breathing, remembering from a few times at the Dursleys that cracked ribs meant a painful time with too deep and/or short breaths. Harry blinked away tears from his eyes as he managed to focus himself on the real world one moderately shallow breath at a time.
“Oh, but my Lord, he's just so pathetic,” Bellatrix Lestrange simpered from nearby. “I couldn't help kicking him.”
“To the castle, Bellatrix!” Voldemort demanded loudly. “I will not repeat myself a third time!”
“Yes, my Lord,” Bellatrix said, a pout clear in her voice, before she turned and began to trudge off to terrorize those in the castle.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out at a steady pace.
“Harry Potter,” Voldemort called, causing the boy to open his eyes once more. “Stand so that we may duel.”
Harry gritted his teeth before rolling onto his front. Pain flared through his chest, and he gasped as he quickly forced himself to his hands and knees. Once the pressure was off his ribcage, he coughed a few times, only to wince from the aggravation coming to his ribs. He shakily got to his knees alone before grabbing his wand from the nearby grass. He stood up on his feet alone, and he readied himself for a battle against Voldemort.
The Dark Lord had waited patiently for Harry to stand, but he waited no longer than that. “Now, we bow.”
He bowed, and Harry very cautiously returned the motion. The two then held their wands out in front of themselves.
Voldemort didn't hesitate any further, and he yelled out, “Avada Kedavra!”
Harry was hit before he could react, and he closed his eyes just before the spell hit. His death wasn't painless, and he hasn't killed Nagini, but he had hoped that the others would be able to destroy the last horcrux and save the wizarding world from the madman.
Except Harry, in pain, allowed his eyes to crack open. Confusion ran rampant through his mind as he gazed around the too bright area he was in. He sat up with no little effort and palmed around for his glasses, eventually finding them to his right. He put his circle-framed glasses on, and he saw a somewhat unfamiliar room that held a crib in the center of it. He stood up slowly, and his ribs still ached as his body moved.
“So we can finally meet.”
Harry's blood ran cold as he whirled around to face the doorway.
There, leaning against the wooden frame with a cocky sort of smirk, was a relatively normal and somewhat older Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Harry knew at that exact moment that things had gone gravely wrong in the Forbidden Forest. His breathing began to pick up, and pain flared through his torso, starting from his ribs. The boy stepped backwards with nervous eyes, trying to create distance between the man and himself.
Tom’s smirk waned a bit before dying altogether. His dark eyes stared at Harry critically before he stood up properly, his arms crossing over his chest. “If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn't have even let you stand up.”
“What?” Harry blurted out as he took another step back.
“I don't want you any worse off than you already are,” Tom reiterated.
“Why?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“I can't have my other self succeed,” Tom said gravely, “Not when he's strayed so far.”
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as Tom’s arms uncrossed. “How has he strayed?”
“I originally wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for a reason,” Tom stated, “I didn't want young witches and wizards to have to deal with stronger forces constantly bullying them, be they muggle or magical. In a way, I've become the one thing I swore to help protect against.”
The young man was visibly surprised. “So — so you what? You want to go back and fix everything?”
The fragment of the Dark Lord’s soul sighed. “There is no way to go back. I can only die and hope you kill my final horcrux and myself.”
Harry's mouth fell agape, and he stared for a moment in shock.
“Close your mouth,” Tom demanded, “I understand how the world would be better without me in it.”
“But—”
“I was once a human, too. Though I could not — still can't — feel love, I can understand how it affects the world and those in it,” Tom explained, “I know that people are so used to feeling fear now that they can't possibly think of protecting themselves. They can't prevent hatred at this rate, and another version of me will surely be born and twisted into another Dark Lord worse than even my other self.”
Harry swallowed thickly. “If — if you recognize this, why doesn't your other self?”
“My other self hasn't sat down and thought things through,” Tom stated, “He’s been too busy dwelling in hatred and being influenced by his fear of Death.”
“You aren't afraid of Death?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“I've already seen Death, and I've accepted that it must happen to me should this world be led to salvation,” Tom explained. “I want the magical world to continue, and for it to do so in a beneficial fashion, I must perish.”
Harry nodded slowly before saying, “Well, I'm already dead—”
“You're not,” Tom interrupted as he stepped toward Harry, who automatically tried to step back.
Harry bumped into the crib, causing it to crash over. He glanced back at the crib, and he realized that it was his own baby crib that he was seeing. He froze as he stared down at the crin, which was beginning to fade away into white, before turning his gaze back to a somber Tom.
Tom was beginning to turn white, himself, along with the rest of the room. He said, “I am dying in your place. You have to go back and kill my other self and his final horcrux. I can't influence the world more than it already has been.”
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he shut it with an audible clack as he winced away from the brightness of the world around him.
A train whistle echoed from the distance, and Tom was gone into the white.
When Harry became aware of the world around him again, he was being held in two large arms. He listened as Voldemort droned on about being successful and sparing anyone who stepped forward. He subtly felt around for his wand, and he was surprised to find Draco's wand resting on his stomach. He gripped the wand tightly before opening his eyes a crack. He looked towards Voldemort, and he quickly decided to finish what he started. He had the blessings of Voldemort’s other self, and he'd be damned if he let his friend and family be tormented by the dark shadow looming over the wizarding world any longer. With his bravery and ambition almost bursting from his chest, he rolled from the large arms holding him and began to duel Voldemort once more.