So Riddle Me This...

So Riddle Me This...

"Harry, mate, what were you thinking holing yourself up in a place like this?" Ron Weasley said, while running a finger down the top of an unused cabinet. He rubbed the dust on his pants as he turned to look at his best friend. Harry ignored him and started rooting through papers in a desk. The desk only had about a centimeter of dust on it whereas the rest of the furniture was coated in a two-inch layer of the stuff. It was the only piece of furniture in the room Harry had ever bothered with.

God damn it! Where did I put the bloody thing?

Harry thought, searching frantically for the paper that would show Ron once and for all that he was not crazy. He was completely unaware that Ron had just asked him a question. Maybe I am crazy... He glanced up at the mirror on the wall. Through the dust he saw his reflection; he did indeed look crazy. His hair stuck up at odd angles, there were huge bags under his eyes, and his glasses had many cracks in the lenses.

"Why won't you come back to school, Harry?" Ron asked, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I'm never going back there, Ron," Harry said, smiling triumphantly as he pulled a large worn piece of parchment out of a drawer in the desk. He smoothed out the edges and laid it out on the desk, treating it as carefully as a newborn baby.

"If you came back, you could finish your seventh year," Ron said, desperately trying to persuade him, "and, you'll be safe there!"

Harry rolled his eyes, and looked up from his precious paper, "I won't be safe anywhere, Ron. Besides, it doesn't matter anymore! I'm going to change, everything," Harry said, laughing softly.

"Harry, how many times do I have to tell you? You can't change the past!"

"Oh, my old friend, you'll find I can. Do you remember the time turner Hermione and I used back in our third year?"

Ron could have sensed the danger signals a mile away. "Yes," Ron answered carefully.

Harry just grinned and pointed to the piece of parchment. Ron looked over his shoulder. Harry gazed excitedly at the parchment. On it there were diagrams of time turners, notes, and sets of numbers. Ron glanced from the parchment to the pile of books next to it, to a small time turner identical to the one Hermione had used three years ago.

"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked pointing to the time turner.

"Oh you'll find having friends at the ministry can be quite useful," Harry said, rolling up the parchment. "Why with enough turns, and all the fiddling I've been doing with this beauty, I can go back fifty years."

"Harry, I'm getting Dumbledore! Please, don't do anything stupid!" Ron said urgently.

Harry ignored him and set off towards a staircase at the back of the room. The steps creaked eerily as he headed up them. By the time he reached the attic door, he could hear footsteps below him.

Meddling fools! He thought. But nothing was going to distract him from the task at hand. He, Harry James Potter would go back.

"Harry?" came a voice from behind him.

Ah, Dumbledore! You should have figured out my little scheme by now... he thought. Opening the attic door, he proceeded through, and at the end of the cramped little room he pulled a trap door open. Night winds blew in making whistling noises through the long disconnected pipes. It made an eerie noise that almost unnerved Harry... Almost.

Climbing through the gap, holding the precious time turner in one hand, he hoisted himself onto the roof. As he stood on the roof of the old house, the wind blowing through his hair, he had a strange feeling that he had been here before, though he could not recall ever coming up here.

Shaking it off, he set the parchment on the roof at his feet. He knew for a fact that he needed to do this at night, on a high point, and the wind had to be at a certain speed so that he could actually cut through time. Pulling a magical compass out of his pocket it told him the exact direction he was facing, and the exact speed of wind. Facing against the wind, he held the time turner by its chain. He had altered it enough that it would send him back ten years per turn, instead of hours.

"Harry, don't do this!" Dumbledore exclaimed, appearing through the trapdoor.

One turn.

"It won't work! Fate can not be changed!" Dumbledore yelled, yet he didn't move forward to stop Harry.

Two turns.

"Hermione and I changed the past before, Albus," Harry said intent on his goal. He had never wanted anything more in his life.

Three turns.

"It was meant to happen last time, Harry!" Dumbledore yelled out with more desperation. "Fate will not let you do this!"

Four turns.

"You're making a big mistake, Harry! Mark my words!" he yelled, turning around and heading back into the house.

Five turns.

***

Harry opened his eyes. He was standing on the same roof but it was newer, it had no holes; it had worked.

"Hello, my love. You should not have come back," a familiar voice said behind him.

Harry jerked around wand in hand. Had Tom Riddle actually called him love? "YOU!" Harry yelled, and without hesitation he yelled the curse that had cursed his life. The green light was blinding, but instead of killing Riddle it bounced off him and disappeared into thin air.

"What!?!" Harry gasped.

"Fate, my love, fate," Tom said with a gentle laugh.

He's just messing with my head! Harry thought. Harry glared at him.

"Can't you remember? Look back, Harry. Back to the last time you paid me a visit here at Riddle House," Tom said with a mischievous grin.

Harry felt something. Attraction? Or was it that strange feeling that he'd seen that grin before?

"Oh, of course! You can't remember what you've been charmed to forget," Tom said, grinning again. Pointing his wand at Harry he muttered a spell so fast that Harry hadn't time to defend. But it wasn't a dueling spell.

It went straight to Harry's head. He felt a curious sensation in his brain. Then the memories came back, flooding back. The memories hit him painfully as a sea of emotions that had been forgotten flooded his mind. The hatred, the love, he remembered it all. But most of all he remembered the man he loved. Tom Riddle.

You see, the last time Harry traveled across time, right before his sixth year at Hogwarts, he fell to the power, and charms of Tom Riddle. They were not two separate people, they were one person, one soul in two bodies. But fate came along and tore them viciously apart, for Harry Potter was born again.

Two Harry Potters cannot roam the earth at the same time, for fear of being found out. And all along Harry had had to watch as the man he loved turned from human, to a power hungry monster. No matter how much Tom wanted to stay human, stay good for Harry, he couldn't. Fate came and forced them apart.

Then came the night, the night that would change so many people's lives forever. Tom fought against the fates, but broke free only long enough to cast a memory charm on his beloved and send him back to his own time. Back to before Harry discovered the time turner. Tom Riddle was a powerful wizard but he would never be powerful enough to deny fate for long.

"Do you remember me now, my love?" Tom asked, pulling Harry out of the memories.

Harry took one look into those eyes and embraced him. "Yes," he gasped and leaned in to taste his lover once again.

"I've missed you," Tom murmured between hungry kisses.

"And I you," Harry murmured back. Tom pulled away.

"But eventually, Harry, the night will come again," Tom said mournfully running a hand through Harry's hair.

"That is then, this is now," Harry whispered, kissing Tom firmly on the lips.

Tom led Harry down into the house. He led Harry through the familiar rooms, but the house was not covered in dust and the pictures on the wall looked newer. Tom took Harry's hand and opened the door in front of them. Inside was a large bed, covered with deep forest green silk covers. Everything in the room was made of green silk.

"Slytherins," Harry said shaking his head. Tom grinned, and pulled Harry onto the bed. Lost in a sea of green silk all of Harry's senses tuned to Tom, nothing but Tom. He wanted to see Tom. He wanted to explore him with his hands. He wanted to breathe in his scent. He wanted to taste him, and hear him.

***

Many years later...

"The night approaches, my love," Tom whispered in his lover's ear.

Harry sighed. They had spent so much time together, again. They had grown older, but Harry knew that when he went back to his own time he would regain his seventeen-year-old body.

Also, day-by-day Tom was growing more monstrous. Already he had formed an army of Death Eaters. Many had already died at his hands. But when Harry really looked at him he saw the real Tom trapped in his eyes. The Tom that Harry changed when he came back in time the first time. But nothing would ever erase the first Tom. The one with murderous intents. As the time drew near Tom recreated the time turner that would send Harry not back, but forward.

Oh fate, why are you so cruel?! Harry thought and, actually began to weep. Sitting on their bed just a week from the day, Harry Potter wept, for his mortal enemy.

The old Tom was disgusted by the tears, but Harry's Tom broke free and soothed them away. Harry didn't want to think about it. All he wanted was for himself and Tom to be together now, and forever. But soon their forever would come. And it did.

The last night, their last night. Tom fought and fought but fate controlled him with strength stronger than any imperious curse. They both wept onto each other's shoulders. Tom offered to put the memory charm on Harry again but he refused. He never ever wanted to forget Tom, even if it meant torrents of pain for the rest for his life. As he turned the time tuner once he kissed his lover, one last time. Then he was gone.

***

Harry opened his eyes reluctantly, to find himself back where he had left. To avoid the house full of painful memories Harry returned to Hogwarts, but that was not much better. Everyone and everything reminded him of Tom.

Then as if he was not in enough pain already, the war began. People he knew and loved were dying all around him. And he knew the day would come when he would come head to head with his Tom. His dear, beloved Tom.

But at the same time it wouldn't be Tom it would be Voldemort. That disguise would never fool Harry into hating him. Once he looked into those red horrible eyes he knew he'd see Tom's eyes behind them.

And he was right.

It was a foggy, stormy day in March ...

The rain came in waves drenching everything, washing away the blood. As Harry stood in the downpour he saw a silhouette approaching through the fog. He knew who it was even before he saw the silhouette.

The time has come... He thought to himself and fought hard not to weep once again. The two men stood before each other for a few minutes. Harry fought fate with strength greater than anything he'd ever known. And looking into Voldemort's eyes Harry saw him fight too. Eventually Harry broke. His hand rose, and those dreadful words escaped his mouth. Harry heard like a stranger had uttered them.

"Avada Kedavra."

He saw his love's body fall to the ground. Fall into a bloody, muddy, watery death. Then fate let go. Harry felt free; nothing was controlling him any longer. And before his very eyes he saw Voldemort change. His shape changed into Tom. Even in death fate can change everything.

The red eyes melted into Tom's eyes, the gray complexion melted into Tom's complexion, black lustrous hair grew out of the gray baldhead. Harry dropped to his knees and wept more than he'd ever wept in his life. He held Tom's dead body to him, and wept right onto his robes.

Dumbledore emerged from the mist. A look of utmost shock flickered across his face.

"Harry? What..." He started but didn't finish. Once again Dumbledore figured out the situation before anyone could explain.

Shouts sounded in the distance. Shouts of victory. Shouts of his friends calling his name. Panic struck Harry. He had never thought of what would happen after the war. He wasn't ready for the celebration. He didn't want to be praised for the murder of his beloved. The agony, he couldn't bear it. He looked to Dumbledore with an expression of utmost urgency.

"Release me! Please!" Harry said in a cracked voice.

"Harry! No ... Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked him in surprise.

"Please? Do it now!" Harry said, as the shouts got nearer. Dumbledore shook his head.

"I'm begging you! It's all I want." Harry almost screamed in urgency.

With a sad look Dumbledore drew his wand on Harry silently. "You are a great wizard Harry you will never be forgotten. Avada Kedavra," Dumbledore uttered the last words with pain in his voice.

Harry smiled as the curse hit him. There was no pain, as there would have been if someone who hated him had cast the curse. Harry James Potter the most famous and respected wizard on earth died that stormy day in March.

And if you stood on the bloody ground that day and looked really hard, you would have seen two young boys with heads of raven black hair walk hand, and hand across the bodies, and blood. And if you looked very, very closely you would have seen them disappear through a rip in time to old Riddle House to spend eternity together. Something fate hadn't allowed while they still lived.

So riddle me this... Everyone says that love is the answer, yet love couldn't save these two boys from their destiny. It couldn't save them from the mad hunger for power that took Tom in the first place. I know this is just fiction but it applies to real life too. Will love ever be able to save us from, well, us?

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