Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 51 - The Death of Tom Riddle

~~~***~~~

When Gabriella splashed into the lake she was surprised to find that the water wasn't wet. The sensation was more akin to being thrown into a great thicket of nettles. The small pinpricks tore away her clothes and began to plunge into her flesh; she covered her face with her hands and screamed in agony. The pain was intense and she wondered if, perhaps, this was what it would feel like to burn alive. The only thing saving her from plunging into pure terror was the belief that she would soon be with her Harry. The wars of the world would fall away and, at last, they would simply have each other to hold and to love. A wave of peace passed over her and, in that moment, the pain ceased.

Still holding her breath, she looked upward to the water's surface. All was dark accept for a fiery circle she knew to be the glowing sphere that hovered over the lake. She tried to swim up, but something had hold of her ankle and was pulling her deeper down. When she could bear it no longer, she gasped for air. There was none to be had, nor was water spilling into her lungs. She didn't know if she were suffocating, or if she was already dead. She continued to descend and the glowing disk above began to fade to darkness. When all light faded, she heard voices.

"The sword defends; it does not attack!"

"Murderer!"

"Defender of the innocent!"

Something, or some things were swirling about her. Initially, Gabriella couldn't make out who or what they were, but their bodies began to shimmer and then glow. Flowing strips of golden and emerald cloth slipped by in the water, lit by some unnatural light that made them sparkle like the stars at night. The light became more intense until she could discern the colour of their hair and the radiance of their eyes. One's hair flowed in wisps of ebon smoke while the other was brilliantly blonde.

"She killed her father!"

"You can't be serious. She is a child of the deep waters."

"The salt water has affected your senses, sister; she belongs to me!"

"Nymphs!" Gabriella whispered in astonishment.

The one with black hair stopped in the water and turned toward Gabriella. She was somewhat larger than the other nymph in both stature and girth, but she slipped through the water like a hummingbird in the air. The top of her torso bare, shimmering emerald fabric draped about her waist and flowed down her hips in something of a tattered skirt. She was no mermaid for she had legs and no discernable gills. She appeared quite human, but her appearance was more beautiful, bearing a majestic manner. Her eyes radiated a cool green light that was neither threatening, nor welcoming and her dark skin suggested that she might belong to the Mediterranean and, in this regard, Gabriella felt an immediate kinship.

Her sister, if she could be called that, was slender and wore a similar garment that began at the waist and flowed about her hips. Her skin was fair and the fabric she wore was a glittering gold. Her eyes radiated a warm golden yellow. The two were different in stature and wore different clothes, but this one's expression was anything but impassive. She was furious and eager for judgement. Her eyes told Gabriella that her moments left in this world would soon be at an end, if they weren't already.

The dark haired one swam closer, held out her hand and somehow stopped Gabriella from sinking further into the water. Instead, she was frozen in place. She could move with difficulty. It felt as if she were being suspended by some invisible net. The larger nymph came nose to nose with Gabriella, her green eyes penetrating Gabriella's mind.

"Nymphs?" she said irritably. "Did you call me a nymph?"

"You mean us," said the other condescendingly.

"No, my dear Melusina... Clearly you could be a nymph. If only you'd eat more than watercress and silverfish. I on the other hand am a--"

"--Big, fat manatee is what you are, Maia!"

The still water began to boil. Gabriella could feel the heat and drew energy from it. She was, somehow, alive.

"Your temper has the better of you, Mel," said Maia coolly. "This evening alone you have claimed a half-dozen. More if you include those below the falls. I understand your anger at the battle now waging about your waters, but you rush to judgement. Can you not discern the difference now before you?"

"You're as soft as your flesh!" snapped Melusina. "None have been worthy, let alone the sea snake slithering there." Maia turned back toward Gabriella and shrugged.

"You may be right."

Gabriella tried to speak, tried to protest and assert her innocence, but no words would come. The waters had silenced her. Maia noticed the attempt and smiled, knowingly. She then reached her hand toward Gabriella's forehead. Gabriella could feel the power of the goddess approach even before her touch. In an instant, her life flashed by and Maia withdrew her hand.

"The darkness here does not run deep," said Maia softly. "It would be a simple manner to--"

"You've said that before!" yelled Melusina. "'Purity of spirit,' you said. And what happened? Tell me, Maia, what happened!"

"He was defending!"

"That's a lie!" hissed Melusina. "He thirsted for power and wielded it like all the others. He is now a murderer... a murderer just like this one. And she... she gave that power to him. Duty bound to protect one of nature's greatest gifts... this one knew and let it happen."

Melusina swam up behind Maia and placed her hands on her shoulders. They both now faced Gabriella who felt more and more like a rat in a cage waiting to be fed to a snake.

"Even now," whispered Melusina, "our waters mix with the fires of the dragon and peer into the gate beyond. He is there. You know this. All he needs is a small... push... and you will have corrected a great wrong."

"It is not so."

"Isn't it?"

Melusina slipped in front of Maia, grabbed Gabriella by the left wrist and held up her hand in front of her. The touch was cold and when Gabriella looked, she saw her fingers begin to darken to a bruised purplish-blue. Melusina then swirled her other hand in small circles until a golden bubble was created in the water. The sphere was about the size of a Quaffle.

The tips of Gabriella's fingers began to tingle and when she tried to move them, she found she couldn't. Again she opened her mouth to complain, but her voice was silent. Maia simply looked at them both, pensive in her demeanour. It was then Gabriella noticed her ring, the one Harry had given her. The firestones had never dimmed on the ring. To the contrary, they had grown brighter with each passing moon. Only now, their brilliance had faded completely. Melusina's golden eyes beamed with satisfaction.

"Observe," she said with a smirk. "Let's see what precepts the Chosen will follow when all is lost."

Images began to appear in the silver orb that she had created with her other hand. They were outside the Dragon's Eye, looking in. There was Patrick's ghost and next to him... Harry. Gabriella gasped and struggled to get a closer look. Was it him? Was he a ghost too?

His hands appeared to be pressed up against the clear sides of the orb floating in front of Gabriella. He was looking at something, a look of terror on his face. Then... then he noticed something on his hand. His face went pale and he crumpled to the floor.

"HARRY!" screamed Gabriella. This time both Maia and Melusina heard her.

~~~***~~~

Harry's face was pressed up against the clear surface of the Dragon's Eye as he watched her splash in. "GABRIELLA!" he cried out as he pounded the clear surface holding him within the gate. It was then that he noticed his hand. The band on his ring finger was fading. One could always see it, even in the dark, but now it only shimmered against Patrick's glow and even that was weakening. Harry reached out his mind, searching for his love and felt nothing but the pained heart of Dakhil Barghouti.

She was gone.

He smashed against the fiery sphere that was the gateway to death and cried out her name once more. The ground rumbled in sorrow, but that's all it could do. Singehorn, whatever he had become, was no more in control of what was happening than Harry was.

A gathering of spirits flittered upward through the floor and Harry's heart skipped for a moment, wondering if perhaps... "Gabriella?" They disappeared and Harry crumpled to the ground, his eyes beginning to mist.

Nothing was left. His wife, his child, his friends, everything had been destroyed. Harry had been defeated by the final Horcrux, because he wasn't there to defend them. Had it happened again? Had he used the stone for his own self-serving purposes? Was he no better than the darkness now huddled together in front of him, discussing their plans? What did it matter? Maybe Draco was right, maybe it was time to pass on.

Dakhil knelt to one knee and placed a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do not let this defeat you. You must return," he said. Harry just shook his head.

"I've lost. It's over."

Draco pushed Patrick out of the way and grabbed Harry by the front of his cloak.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" he asked with a tight voice. "They just murdered your family and you're going to let them get away with it? The deal was we destroy them while we can and you...," he patted Harry's chest just over the stone, "...you have the only way we can do it. Close the gate and destroy them all! Send us all to oblivion, I don't give a damn! I won't let him win!"

The idea began to burn into Harry's mind - one last cleansing. The fire would destroy them all, but what of the robes still on the lake? And what of the ghosts now passing to the other side? Would the gate close? Did it matter? Would any of it even make a difference?

Riddle and the two Voldemorts began to chant.

"Get up, Potter!" snapped Draco. "They're calling him, the last Horcrux. When he arrives, use the stone!"

"Yes... yes I could use the stone," thought Harry, anger burning in his empty heart, revenge filling his lost soul. He could wipe them all out in one final blast of power; he knew it was still within him. What did it matter to Dakhil? He'd lived long enough.

In that moment, Harry heard the distant giggling of a woman echoing about the chamber. He turned, but saw no one. Shrugging, he searched his mind for ways to destroy them all, using the memories given him at the Joining. Finally he settled on one, a powerful spell of destruction. It came from the age of Pravus when he used it to destroy the wizarding city of Petroska. The city, like the Dragon's Eye, had been enchanted so that it could not be attacked directly, but it could be cleansed and, after all, that was what he was doing - cleansing. They would be wiped clean; nothing would remain. It was the last time Pravus used the stone; the House of Hayk saw to that.

Harry was concentrating on the spell, considering where to centre its energy, when a flash of white light blinded them all. He saw the white robes appear and, holding his hand over his chest, raised his wand. "For you, Gabriella," he whispered.

"Harry, no!" implored Dakhil, but Harry's mind was bent on hate and revenge. It would end as Draco had demanded - they would all be sent to oblivion.

"Minuo Maxi --"

Harry stopped. Looking up at him was a child not yet six years old draped in a white robe that made him appear as if he'd just stepped from the bath. His small, bare feet looked as if they should be wearing bunny slippers. Like Patrick, the child's body glowed with a blue aura and, though his skin was pale, his form was solid and substantial, lacking the transparency of the others. In contrast, his dark hair was ruffled in a dozen different directions not unlike Harry's own. His dark green eyes were wide with curiosity, taking in everything about him and, when they set upon Harry, he smiled.

"Hello," he said with a high voice that was not cold at all, but warm and welcoming and eager. Just one word, asking for a simple response, but Harry was having none of it. He'd not be tricked again. He was ready to kill and kill he would. Again, echoing all about the cavern, he heard the giggling of a woman. He shook his head and refocused his thoughts. He'd destroy them all and centre that hatred on this one just for good measure. The prophecy would, at last, be fulfilled. He lowered his wand directly at the child and his hand began to shake.

Three times he tried to form the words in his mouth and three times he failed. He was beginning to feel physically nauseous and perspiration was popping out all over his forehead. Gabriella had told him that he would always have a choice, but what choice was this? Killing a small child?

Harry bit the side of his lip. This was no small child - it was evil incarnate. He tried to form the spell again, but there was something greater than hate inside him, holding him back. She had said that the robes were everything pure about Tom Riddle. If not, the waters of the lake would have washed them away.

"I... have to... kill you," sputtered Harry, his own voice shaking with his hand. Tom Riddle's smile faded and he padded over to the Primate of the Votary and stood only a few feet from him, examining the holly in his hand as if it was nothing more than the branch of a tree.

"Why?" Tom asked innocently.

The voice was small and thin, but filled with unencumbered compassion so sincere that Harry broke down again. It was if he could hear her calling to him - Gabriella would not want this. Visions and emotions of the hearts that had touched his mind in the Joining slipped through his thoughts. There he saw laughter and love, compassion and forgiveness. Harry fell to his knees and dropped his wand in defeat.

"What am I doing?" he whispered to himself as he looked down at his hands. "Not like this... I can't let it end like this."

"Harry, no!" said Draco angrily.

"What is this scab?" screeched the wraithlike Voldemort, pointing at the young boy. He turned to the others. "Thiss is what you would have determine our fate? I thought... Argh!"

"The boy will still choose," said Riddle with confidence, perhaps recognizing a closer kinship to this soul than the other two. The other Voldemort stepped forward.

"He is still one of us. Come here, boy!" he commanded. Tom did not respond; he was so curious about the wet drops falling down Harry's cheeks that he didn't even hear the demand.

"I said, come here!" Voldemort yelled again. This time he stepped over and grabbed Tom roughly by the shoulder. The child, his back toward his attacker, held up his hand and a flash of yellow light pulsed outward in all directions, throwing Voldemort a good ten metres backwards on his arse. Then, slowly, he turned to see the three souls that had cast him away. His brow furled with concentration, trying to understand, trying to remember why they seemed so familiar. A spark of recognition appeared. He brought his two hands together and cupped them.

"I- I thought these were mine," Tom said, looking down at a number of tiny glowing lights that were floating in his hands. They were green and sinister. "I found them by the lake; others had taken them." He looked back at the two Voldemorts. "I guess... I guess they belong to you two. I'm sorry."

Three tiny lights floated up out of Tom's hands and passed toward the wraithlike Voldemort; another went to the Voldemort Harry had killed at the Ministry. They were the darkness, the stain that they'd left behind in the others. Tom had taken the evil, the touch of death Voldemort had deposited, out of Harry's friends, had removed the stain of the curse that Voldemort had passed to Harry and he to his son, and in removing that death left them to sleep in suspended time with all the others about the lake. They had been freed from Voldemort's touch and were now, unremarkable like all the others, waiting for time to restart.

The tiny lights shot toward the Voldemorts and penetrated their eyes, the sudden inrush of evil causing even them to scream in agony. Riddle laughed at his soul mates.

"There will be opportunity enough to plant more seeds when we return to Hogwarts. Ginny Weasley comes to mind," he said with a snicker. "Now, boy, come over here. We have a question for you." Again Tom's brow furled.

"It's too noisy here," he said. There was a snap and white walls popped out of the floor, surrounding Harry and Tom in small room. They were alone - Harry on his knees and Tom Riddle standing, looking at him eye to eye with curiosity.

"What's your name?" asked Tom.

"Harry... Harry Potter." The Gryffindor just looked down at the dark ground.

"Are you sad?"

"No... Y-Yes."

"Why?"

For a moment Harry didn't answer. His mind was mulling over what had just happened. His friends had not been destroyed; they had been saved from the hidden darkness Voldemort had implanted within them, the same darkness that had killed Patrick. Even his son, Jamie had been cleansed. But Gabriella... Gabriella had fallen into the lake and Harry knew the waters would not be kind to her. The fading band about his finger was proof enough of that.

"I've lost someone very dear to me," he said finally. Tom simply nodded his head, perhaps not truly understanding what that meant, but wishing it to seem that he did.

"I lost my mother," he gave in response. "She died when I was born. Her name was Merope."

"I lost my mother too," said Harry, the words spilling before he realized he was beginning a conversation with the one who had killed her. Or had he? "When... when I was very young. Erm... her name was... Lilly."

Again, Tom Riddle nodded his head knowingly and then sat down next to Harry.

"Those three..." He pointed through one of the white walls. "Do you know them?"

"They're your... your brothers," answered Harry not really sure how to explain, not really sure if Tom could understand, though something in the boy's eyes bore a wisdom far greater than that of a small child.

"Well, they're not very nice."

"No, no they're not," agreed Harry grimly. "But we don't get to choose our family, do we?" said Harry. His thoughts turned to Vernon and Petunia. And then, his mind on Dudley, he said, "Still, sometimes things change."

"You'd make a nicer brother than any of them."

Harry shrugged.

"I mean, your mom died, my mom died. We both have black hair and green eyes. We're like twins! Can you talk to snakes?" he asked eagerly.

Harry nodded.

"Excellent!" Tom moved so that Harry could look him in the eyes. They were shining brightly with glee. "Can we be friends then?"

"Yeah," said Harry with a sad smile. "Sure. We orphans... we have to stick together, eh?"

Whispers began to flit about Harry's ears. "You left the orphan to die, Harry." They were the whispers of death he knew all to well. He half-expected a reaper to appear at his side, but he was trapped alone with Tom Riddle. The thought of the four white walls being a trap made his heart skip. The whispers grew louder. "Will you right the wrong, Harry?" Tom noticed the expression on Harry's face.

"Can you hear them too?" he asked. "The voices just on the other side?" Tom shifted his position uncomfortably and sighed; the innocence on his face waned. "It won't matter where I go, you know. They'll find me. They'll come back."

The echoes of the veil in the Death Chamber at the Ministry where Harry had first lost Sirius slipped into his mind. And then Luna's words soon followed. "They'll come back; they always do in the end."

"Gabriella," he whispered, a glimmer of hope entering his heart. The floor rumbled. Tom didn't seem to notice. His eyes were focused straight at the wall, the other side of which stood his soul mates.

"They don't think I know," he said staring blankly ahead. "They think I haven't seen." He turned to face Harry and now tears were streaming down Tom's cheeks. "But I have seen, Harry. I have seen." He was scared. "Your... your mother, she was a proud and beautiful woman and she... she loved you so much."

He began to cry and Harry couldn't help but to offer him comfort. Tom fell into his arms and wept into Harry's shoulder. "I was there... I was always there."

Holding Tom as he cried, images began to flash across Harry's mind too fast for him to take them all in. An orphanage, a small child bleeding from the ears for no apparent reason. Hogwarts, the summoning of the Basilisk and the death of Myrtle. The assembly of Death Eaters and the creation of an inferi army. The search for the child of the prophecy, Harry's parents and the blinding white flash - death. Harry pulled away.

"Y-You..." Harry stammered, pushing himself backward away from Tom. "You were there. You killed my--"

"No!" pleaded Tom. "No, it wasn't me! I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen. They never listened." Tom's face fell into his hands. "And then he ripped me away, used me to keep him safe so he could... so he could..." He shuddered and then brought his face from his hands and looked at Harry once more. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

Little Tom's eyes were red, but not with evil, with the pain of enduring decades of evil. He had been trapped to endure atrocities Harry couldn't even begin to imagine. The child was alone; he'd always been alone. The emotions of Harry's childhood in Little Whinging came flooding back. In many ways, they really weren't that much different; Harry's pure voice had been just a little bit stronger.

Harry stepped over to Tom who had crawled into the corner to cry. He took him by the shoulders, turned him and knelt to one knee. With his thumbs he wiped the tears away and ruffled Tom's hair.

"It's okay," he said softly. "It's not your fault. I... I forgive you."

He hugged Tom and the ground rumbled again. Again, he heard a female's voice, or voices... laughter mixed with screaming... voices coming from a distant cavern that faded to nothing. When he pulled back, Harry moved to wipe the tears from Tom's face once more. The crying had stopped and something of a smile had replaced the sadness. Brushing Tom's cheek he noticed his own hand. The band on his ring finger had darkened, the imprint of his love had returned.

"Gabriella!" he said out loud. Harry looked at the four walls and then back to the little boy. "Tom--"

"I know... we can't stay in here forever." He raised his hand. "I wish we could, but we can't." He took in a deep breath as if gathering himself for something. "I'll miss you, Harry. Will you do me one more favour?"

"Sure, what is it?"

The walls dropped.

They were still in the eye, still looking down at the motionless lake, reflecting the fiery orb and the heavens that glowed above. Patrick stood next to Dakhil; they had been talking. Draco was standing near one wall as it fell; Riddle, and the two Voldemorts stood by another. Harry ran past Draco to the edge of the eye and pressed himself against its surface.

"She's still there!" he said. "I know she is - just beyond the surface. Can you sense it, Dakhil?"

"You didn't kill him!" yelled Draco.

"Come here, child!" yelled Voldemort. Harry turned back and saw them grab Tom by the robes he was wearing.

"Leave him alone!" he yelled. "He doesn't belong to you!"

"And what do you intend to do about it, Potter," sneered Riddle. "You're nothing but a wisp of smoke, not long for this world. Go on... pass to the other side and get it over with! I've been there... you deserve each other." Riddle stepped over and jokingly poked at Harry's chest, expecting his hand would pass all the way through. It didn't and Harry grabbed his finger and held it tight.

"I can send you back to hell," Harry hissed. "That's what I can do about it!"

Fear spread across Riddle's face and his companions grabbed the boy and held him like a shield as they stepped back from Harry. No one was sure what was possible in the gateway and they weren't willing to take any chances.

"Kill him!" cried Draco.

"No!" yelled Tom. "Harry, don't. You can't." He shook loose of Voldemort and stepped toward Harry. "You're wrong; I do belong to them. We belong to each other."

"The boy speaksss sense," said the wraithlike Voldemort with a hiss. "Lisssten to him!"

"But--"

"Let me do this, Harry," interrupted Tom. "Trust me."

The other Voldemort laughed, but then quickly stifled his mirth to conceal his enthusiasm. "Yes, trust us!"

Harry let Riddle go and the three souls of evil surrounded the one shining star.

"We have agreed," said Voldemort in eager anticipation, "by the Unbreakable Oath, that you shall decide which one of us is to lead our return. It is left to you, boy. Choose wisely." Voldemort stepped closer, perhaps thinking that it would give him the advantage.

Surrounded, Tom surveyed the evil enveloping him. He stepped toward Riddle who was handsome and smiled. He turned and examined Voldemort who stood tall and powerful. He then looked the wraithlike Voldemort in the eyes, assessing his cunning and stealth. Then he looked over at Harry who was lost as to what he might do should Voldemort return to plague Hogwarts and the rest of the Wizarding world once again.

"I have decided," said Tom with a small voice. All three stepped closer. "I will lead our return." There was a cacophony of screams and cries of protest. Almost at once, Riddle and the two Voldemorts began to fade. The deal had been struck. The soul which would lead the return of the others was that of Tom... Tom Riddle.

Harry wasn't sure what that meant. Tom had told him that he didn't have the power to fight back against the others. Would he be consumed once more by the darkness inside him? Tom stepped toward Harry. His soul mates, compelled to do so, followed in his wake.

"I will lead our return... and the return will be to the other plane. Our time on this world has come to an end!"

There were more screams. In their haste to bind the oath, the dark wizards hadn't specified where they would be returning to. It had seemed so obvious that their return would be to the earthly plane. Voldemort who was only half as substantive as he was a moment before screamed the least, for his eyes glimmered as if he knew something the others did not.

"You're a fool, boy!" he snapped. "Your path leads only one way and that is back to the forest below. You have no pass to the other plane, for you haven't died! You can not will yourself beyond without another's hand."

"You are right, brother," said Tom. "I must give my spark to another." He stepped toward Patrick and held out his hand. In it was a bright blue glow, his life's force. The others tried to swipe at his arm, but they only passed through like smoke.

"I have harmed you wrongly, Patrick. I have harmed many wrongly, but I only have one life to give and you... you are here. Harry says that we orphans have to stick together." He smiled. "Will you take this spark as your own, turn what it might have been into something that will heal our world?"

Patrick's jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide. He stepped toward Tom in disbelief, but stopped and looked at Harry, asking with his eyes if it was okay.

"SSSSily boy," sneered the wraithlike Voldmeort. "Patrick, the spark will only bring your spirit back to life. Without substance, you will still be little better than a ghost. You will be forced to seek a host as did I. All will fear you as they feared me. It will be a cursed life, a half life."

"It is true," said Tom in agreement, "but it is all I have to offer."

"Take me!" called out Draco. "Take my body. Let me pass to the other--"

"No," interrupted Dakhil. He began to laugh and walked over to Harry. "You've done it, man!" He reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder. The grip was firm. "Soseh said... and I couldn't... I wouldn't believe." He sighed and turned back to his protégé.

"I'm an old man, Draco. The world has changed and I'm tired of changing with it. There will be more battles, more darkness to fight. That's a game for young men. My time has come at last."

He placed his palm on Draco's head. "All that was mine is now yours." A dark green glow spread out and covered Draco's body. He shuddered and the light vanished. When he looked back up to Dakhil, his eyes were pained. Then, he nodded.

"I understand," he said to his mentor.

"Patrick, I can't think of anyone I'd rather do this for. You stuck by Harry when you could have been with your parents... your family. You will see them soon enough. For me, it's been a millennium; I'm ready to let go. I can give you my corporeal form, but I don't know what that will mean. Will you be a vampire? An old withered man? I don't know. What I do know is that you will be able to breathe, and smile, and love, and enjoy the company of those who love you back. You'll have a life and it will be yours to live. Will you take my offer?"

Again, Patrick turned uncertainly to Harry. This time Harry nodded.

"If yeh see me mum an' da," said Patrick, looking up to Dakhil, "tell 'em... tell 'em I love 'em. "

"Dakhil," added Harry. "I don't know what you'll find, but if you see Luna Lovegood's mother, tell her the same, will you?"

"Bloody owl is what I am," he said with a smile. "You both have my word. Tom, shall we begin?"

"It requires the hand of another," said Tom. "Harry, you know the spell. Gabriella used it to bring her brother back to life. Will you do this for us... one last favour?"

Harry nodded.

"No!" yelled the other Voldemorts. They tried to move in on their innocent soul, but a sudden onslaught of ghosts shot up through the floor and began to swirl about. They were hollering and laughing. It sounded like a drunken party and they wanted the Voldemorts to join in.

"We're heading home! We're heading home!" they cried with glee.

In the confusion, Harry held up his hands and began to chant in a tongue that had been passed to him from Gabriella during the Joining, a chant he had heard her utter in the Death Chamber below the Ministry when Grigor gave up his body to Antreas' life force. His voice grew louder and stronger with every verse and a blue glow began to appear about his fingers.

"By the Heart of Asha!" he declared and he pointed his wand at Tom. The glow of his hands traveled down the holly and a swirl of glowing blue mist spun in towards Tom's chest.

"The Joining!" he cried out, and then, "Patrick O'Riley!" The spark of Tom Riddle passed from his body and penetrated Patrick's chest. At once, Patrick's body began to become more substantive. Tom, to the contrary, began to fade and, as he did so, he collected the others with him. They were ripped from the revellers arms and were absorbed into his back. Dark shadows appeared under his eyes at once as their faint screams of protest died away.

"The gate will not be open long," he said, struggling to control the evil within. "I must go." He held out his hand and one of the partying ghosts grabbed it. "We're going home!" He smiled. There was a flash of light and the white spirits ascended through the eye and out into the heavens, disappearing into a background of fiery stars.

Dakhil turned to Harry. "Primate, give my best to the others and my love to Soseh. If I had been younger..." He sighed once more and smiled.

"I will," said Harry softly.

"I look forward to the day we meet again. Take this, he may find use for it." He handed Harry his wand, ten inches of solid oak. "Our time together has been short, but by Asha's Heart what a lifetime of stories it will bring!" Dakhil moved toward Draco and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Draco, you have seen the incantation. You know its purpose. I ask that I leave this world by your hand. Will you give me the honour?"

Draco looked up and a tear slipped down the side of his face. He nodded and Dakhil gave him a small bow.

Draco repeated the spell, only this time Dakhil placed his hands on Patrick's shoulders. A golden glow travelled down his arms and into Patrick's body. Patrick fell unconscious to the ground. Harry started forward, but Dakhil stopped him.

"He's alright," said Dakhil, his form now fading as well. "The new trinity within him has to meet, must get to know each other. That will take time. It's like being born anew." He continued to fade.

"Remember, Harry, stories... I expect to hear some good stories." He looked to the heavens above. "I do so hope they have pipe tobac--" Dakhil disappeared, a white glow in his stead. It hovered for a moment and then shot upwards, following the path Tom and the other spirits had taken. With Patrick asleep on the dark ground, Draco and Harry were alone.

They were silent for some time and at last Draco looked up at Harry. "She said it would happen... I wanted it to be true. I just didn't think..." He shook his head.

"Who, Draco?"

"Soseh. The night we first met she took my hand. She said that, in the end, you and I would stand alone... victorious against the darkness. I though if we could kill them, we would..." He swallowed and shook his head, looking at his feet, long strands of grimy blond hair hanging over his face. "I don't feel much like celebrating."

Harry looked down at the waters. "No... there's still work to be done." He examined his hand. The band about his finger continued to grow brighter. He was confident she was alive; he could sense her presence, but she still had not appeared at the water's edge.

"I'm not going back, Harry."

"But you said--"

"He needed a reason and I gave him one. Dakhil's wrong, there's nothing for me out there. You... you've got... you've got family. Me... I thought maybe Dakhil, but now..." He shook his head. "There's no one left that would die for me."

"I'd die for you, Draco."

"Potter, you'd die for anybody." Draco laughed, trying to be comical, but his eyes betrayed his sadness. He stood up and gently pushed Harry on the chest. "Go on. Get out of--" It was then he noticed the talisman hanging about Harry's neck by a thin strap of leather. It was a small flat disk.

"You... you kept this?" asked Draco, fingering the flat disk as it revealed his own reflection. Harry nodded with a smile.

"Come here, Draco," he said, waving his friend to follow. "You need to see this."

Draco walked over and looked down at the wizards suspended in time. Some held out their wands, still in the midst of battle. Others were panicked and scared.

"There," said Harry pointing near the cluster of rocks near where Tonks had been killed. He didn't need to; Draco's eyes were already set to the same spot. There, holding his hands about his mouth, was Blaise Zabini. He was calling up to them, calling up to Draco. "I think, if you looked in the mirror again, you'd see something different."

"I'm a vampire, Harry. There's no way he would--"

"What the hell do you think you were when he called out to you?" Harry snapped. "Do you think he didn't know? He was at the castle when the attack came. He was injured and could have stayed in the caverns with the other students, but he risked his life to join Sirius and the others to come to the lake. Why is that, Draco? Was it his bravery? Do you think it was for me? For Hogwarts? Hah! Zabini's a Slytherin. The only thing he cares about is himself and maybe... maybe you, Draco - vampire face and all."

Draco moved to the invisible wall and held his hand flat against it as he gazed down.

"Whatever Dakhil gave you just now... don't waste it. You're immortal, Draco. You can be part of something that lasts forever, something that has a mission to do good for all eternity. Let me help you get started. After all this... don't I count as family?"

He began to reach for the Ring of Onyx, but the ground began to rumble once more. The giant lid started to close and the cloak of impenetrable darkness returned without the aid of Patrick's glow. They both lit their wands as another spirit rose through the floor. The wisp of white smoke took shape. It was Helena. She was smiling brightly.

"I am the last, Harry. The gate begins to close." She held out her hand, her radiance and beauty filling the darkness with light. "Will you come with me?" For a moment, Harry considered it. He took a step forward and Draco grabbed him about the chest.

"He's got family to attend to," Draco snapped. "We both do. Be on your way!"

"I understand," Helena said with a courteous bow. "She is quite gorgeous." She stepped over and kissed Harry on the cheek and then did the same to Draco. "You were both very brave tonight. Because of you, thousands have made their way home."

Her form dissolved to smoke, there was a flash and she shot upward through the darkness. As they watched her disappear, they noticed the darkness brighten. The fire was burning its way inside the chamber. Flames of red and gold and purple were closing in on them. By the second, both heat and light grew more intense. Harry could withstand the flames, but not Patrick, not Draco. He positioned himself next to Patrick's body.

"Draco!" he called. "Come here! Take my hand!"

Draco seemed stunned, watching as the flames continued to roil, growing brighter and brighter. He held out his hand, the heat singing his flesh. At last he had overcome his fear.

"HURRY!"

Harry's cries broke Draco's trance and he ran over to join him. Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him close, pressing him down against Patrick and shielding them both with his body. The ground began to quake fiercely.

Harry held his hand against the dark loamy earth. "Good-bye my friend," he whispered. "May you find a special place in the heavens."

There was a tremendous explosion and they were engulfed in streams of flame and unimaginable heat. The explosion roared in their ears - a thousand dragons breathing fire. The deafening roar continued as the explosion blasted outward. Then, suddenly it stopped and all went quiet. An instant later, everything that was exploding outward began to implode inward. The sound now was a great swoosh as if the air and everything else were being inhaled backward into a small tin. Holding tightly to Harry with one hand and Patrick with the other, his eyes squeezed down to thin slits and the wind buffeting his face, Draco tried to yell something, but Harry couldn't hear him. The flames, the heat the black loamy earth, Patrick, Draco and Harry were all drawn down to a singular point in space and time until... in the end...there was nothing left, but the faint roar of a dragon.