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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30375 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Chapter List
- 38
- 39
- 40
a/n
I'll keep the a/n short, thanking everyone who decided to read my story. Even bigger thanks to those who reviewed. You are the best, guys!
Enjoy.
Beta: Julie. fjad
One Step From Hell
Chapter Thirty Nine
Later
"Your Ministry of Magic, along with our gracious host, the British Ministry of Magic— " The French Minister of Magic's magnified cheerful voice boomed around the incredibly full tribunes. — "allow the final show of the Duel— " He paused and the tribunes quieted down before erupting in ear-shattering cheers as he finished the sentence. "— to start!"
What an idiot.
No matter how many times he changed the Minister of France, it just did not work out the way he wanted.
The full tribunes with at least one hundred thousand onlookers were raving in anticipation, and he leaned back into his chair, calmly observing the crowds.
"Your champagne, Head Minister."
He didn't even acknowledge the server, and with a lazy movement, he took his glass with Illuminatum Tenebris.
His hair was short, and styled back. He used to wear his blond hair long, like his father had, but it did not suit him.
He would never be Lucius, no matter how hard he tried.
Draco took a sip, thinking how long he had tried to copy his father, only to come to realisation that he had to be his own person.
He was Draco, not Lucius.
When his father had died because of him, Draco had broken down completely.
It was Hades who brought him back to his feet, who was there for him no matter what, and who taught him many things.
His Horcrux was his best friend, and Draco didn't need any other. He should have trusted the Dark Lord from the very beginning, and then it would have been his father sitting next to him.
A month after the death of his father, uncle, and aunt, Magical Union had lost over five trillion galleons.
There was no one who knew how to balance everything, and the Dark Lord had somewhat damaged his mental health.
He was as insane as he used to be when Draco had first met him.
Slowly, with the help of his father's advisers, Draco started to understand what he had to do.
He, while being mediocrite at Finances, was a brilliant manager.
The Dark Lord had almost murdered him for the solution he had provided, however, later, even his Master had praised him.
Draco organized for over hundred best Muggle financial gurus to be kidnapped and Imperio'd.
They worked hard for years before Draco and his team managed to get a hold of everything, and then the Dark Lord had killed the Muggles.
Helped or not, they were filth.
Now, twenty years later, Draco could run everything himself.
Well, almost.
With a sneer, he turned to look at the person sitting near him, one chair between them.
The light, lime green suit was from Armani, shimmering in the sunrays; the brown leather shoes were from the same shop he bought his, and the orange tie matched well with the hair. Blue eyes were watching the show, and Draco's lip curled as he took out a small matchbox from his pocket.
Those blue eyes were now glaring at him, and with a laugh, Draco threw the matchbox onto the ground, directly before the stylish man in lime suit.
Tiny needles fell out of the box and scattered on the floor of the Imperial Tribune.
"Start counting, Weasel."
"Fuck you, Ferret!"
xxx
When you wish for something, you have to realise that your wish may come true.
He was watching the show from the Imperial Tribune, sitting next to the Head Minister of Magic, Draco Malfoy, just like he had dreamed all those years ago during the Quidditch match.
Now, he had everything.
He was Minister of Finances, and he could have anything he wanted.
Just like he had always dreamed.
However, the price he had to pay was too big, too unfair and too horrible.
His mom had died from grief upon finding out that Ginny had been killed, and Ron didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.
He never got the chance to tell his mother that he wasn't dead.
He could give his mom everything now, but it was too late.
Bill and Charlie were the only ones alive from the big family they used to have.
Charlie was working in Gringotts while Bill lived with Fleur and their children in France. Teddy had graduated from Hogwarts—Slytherin—and was now trailing after his biggest idol.
His Godfather.
Teddy's father, Remus, had gone mad with grief and turned into a wolf, completely.
Ron was distracted from his thoughts when a matchbox fell onto the floor, just before him.
One—twenty six—thirty two…
He had started to count even before the needles landed on the floor.
At least those were not small, crystal balls that tended to roll away. Now those had been a nightmare to count.
Fucking Ferret and his childish pranks.
They still hated each other even if they spent over twelve hours a day working together.
He had fought with Draco only once, when Ron had caught him pissing on Ginny's grave.
The Dark Lord had to interfere when their Horcruxes clashed in a battle, and destroyed the cemetery.
Apollo was his Horcrux, his biggest friend, and he didn't need any other.
Well, almost.
The tribunes quieted down and Ron knew what the silence meant.
Look who's back!
The tribunes rose as one, clutching their fists to their heart, standing in respect to the person who had just arrived to the Imperial Tribune.
xxx
Commander of the Dark Armies was his official title, and he wore it with pride.
He had been away from Britain and France for the last two years, dealing with the last resistance in the Magical States, and now, when everything was sorted out, he came back for a while before the Dark Lord would send him and their immortal army after another country.
Britain, France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Bulgaria, Sweden, Denmark and now The United States of Magical America were a part of Magical Union.
He knew his Lord wanted the rest of Scandinavia next, and that meant he was going to Norway and Finland.
He would go to Finland last, as he wanted to spend time with Santa Clause. His Master had shaken his head at his request, however, not in denial.
Harry knew he was crazy, but it felt so good.
He was free to do anything he wished to do, and the possibilities were endless.
The Dark Lord was his Master and for him, he would go to hell and back.
Fifteen years he had been his student, learning everything the Dark Lord wanted him to learn, and then, he was given an endless army of undead wizards and directed towards the countries his Master wished to have.
It had been this year that he was reminded that there was another life aside from the one of a Commander, in the fields, conquering and ordering.
Harry had returned to Britain to be met with his house at Grimmauld Place to be floored with letters.
Lawsuits.
Harry would have Apparated to the person who dared to slap him with a lawsuit and murder him or her, before killing the rest of the family and friends, had it not been for the name on the said lawsuits.
That's why he had apparated here. He needed to talk to the professional.
From what he heard from Draco, Malfoy now had a separate vault called "Lawsuits", and in the last year, he had to pay over one hundred twenty five million in fines. For one year only.
Hermione had slapped Malfoy with more lawsuits than should be possible, pressing charges almost daily.
Harassment, misogyny, poor treatment of employees, homophobia, rape and even a few times 'disregard of human rights'.
And now, Hermione decided it was time for Harry to join in on the fun.
His charges looked better than Malfoy's though, and even the Dark Lord had laughed a bit when he had shown him the papers.
Genocide of Muggles and brutal treatment of war victims.
At least he treated the House elves well, unlike Malfoy. That had to count, right?
xxx
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, stand up."
The voice of the judge was solemn and filled with barely contained hate, and Ron rolled his eyes before getting up.
"Don't embarrass yourself even more, Weasel. Sit the fuck down, you're the Minister of Finances for Merlin's sake!"
Ron turned to face Malfoy who was sneering next to him, when he heard a voice he had been hearing too often lately.
"Minister Malfoy, you should mind your own charges and behaviour."
Ron looked up to where the Prosecution was sitting, in the face of a woman, dressed in red and white clothes.
Oh, Hermione….Shut up!
"Minister Weasley, you are found guilty in charges of harassment of two female employees of the Ministry, disregard of human rights and attempted rape."
Well...Fuck off! He didn't do anything! That bitch wanted his money and fame, and he wasn't willing to give her that for more than one night. And the other one…
'Not our fault.'
Definitely not.
It wasn't his fault he was popular.
A whistle from Harry who was sitting next to Malfoy made Hermione glare even harder at the trio.
"Seeing that we have had this talk for—" The judge, a middle-aged woman and feminist to the core paused to look at her notes before continuing. "—seventy two times in the last twelve months, I am ordering you to attend an Anger Management course and pay fines in amount of fifty million galleons."
Well, fuck.
Hermione was smiling happily from her seat and Ronald was ready to strangle her.
Had it really been fifty years since they had first met?
xxx
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, stand up."
"Make me."
The glare from the judge was a seven on the scale of ten, and Draco shrug his shoulders, trying not to pay attention to a snickering Potter. Granger was shooting him a nine. Soon she'd learn how to do a ten, which at the moment, belonged to the Dark Lord only.
You wait, Potty.
He had a lot of charges but none as brutal as Harry's.
"And it's Head Minister Malfoy, Judge Yaxley."
Who knew Yaxley could produce such bitches?
"It's your Honour Judge Yaxley, Head Minister Malfoy."
'Whatever.'
"You are found guilty—"
He stopped listening at this point as there would be nothing new this time around. Blah, blah, blah…
He had to attend such court hearings every and each time, having to listen to this useless nonsense.
Who did she think she was? She was Alexander Yaxley's daughter, and the Head Judge of the Jurisprudential Magical Union.
She was their judge.
His judge.
But somehow, she was crazy in the head, and they hadn't even noticed it.
Fat, ugly piece of a skank that should lick the floor he walked on.
Fat cow.
The Dark Lord had made it clear to everyone how the Jurisdiction worked and that he had to pay any fine he would be given.
The catastrophe that could have been avoided, had his dad kept his hands to himself, taught the Dark Lord a lot. Now, the Dark Lord didn't monitor your behaviour himself, he rather had a horde of investigators and all kinds of offices that dealt with it.
If Draco broke a law, he had to face the charges.
Too bad for him, Ursula Yaxleys who couldn't find a normal man because of her ugliness, had a thing against handsome, successful men who took from life what they wanted.
What they deserved.
He was a half-god, and Draco shuddered in pleasure.
He was an immortal half-god and his power knew no boundaries.
Fifty years ago he would have been scared and afraid, but now…
He was Draco Malfoy and only the Dark Lord was his Master.
This ugly hag would not make him do anything.
He'd pay and do how he pleased over and over again.
Draco felt Potter shake him, and he started to listen again.
"—And considering the fact that this is your two thousand seven hundred and eighty-fourth lawsuit, the court orders you to attend Anger Management classes for two years, to visit refugee camps at least fifty times per year, and to pay fines in the amount of one trillion galleons."
The fuck?!
'Bitch.'
You wait, Granger.
xxx
"Commander Harry James Potter."
The judge was too scared of him to say his name without the title.
And she had enough brains to not order him around.
If he got up, the judge would fall.
Permanently.
And Hermione's protection would not save her sorry arse.
"Go on."
He'd humour her.
Stop glaring, Hermione. I do my job, you do yours!
"You are found guilty on charges of terrorism, murder of innocent bystanders and genocide of Muggles while not on your mission or duty. The court had come to the conclusion that no amount of money could take away the damage you have caused."
No shit.
He knew that even without that joke of a court.
"You are sentenced to ten years in Azkaban."
WHAT?
'I beg your pardon?'
Harry heard Draco's and Ron's shocked intakes of air, and he saw Hermione's white face and pursed lips, and then, before he even decided whom to kill in the courtroom first, he heard a voice, and he smiled.
"Overruled."
A beam of green light shot at her Honour Judge Yaxley from somewhere to his right— bye, bye—and as her head slammed onto the square tribune made of wood instead of her wooden hammer, Harry smiled.
'Ahaha.'
What are you going to do now, Hermione? Harry and Tom thought together, smiling at a pissed off Hermione, and a figure that was slowly walking through the silent crowd that parted like water.
His Horcrux was Tom, and the Dark Lord had allowed it.
It was good to be him.
xxx
Hermione closed her eyes when she heard the verdict.
She had hoped that Ursula Yaxley would try and refrain from using real sentencing for Harry, but when she heard the 'ten years in Azkaban', she knew she would need to find another Judge soon.
For many years, she had been trying to establish some form of legal control for people who couldn't be controlled otherwise.
She dealt with Death Eaters only, as there was no one else who would dare to step against them in a courtroom.
Voldemort had agreed upon it when she had sent him her letters.
It was her luck to meet Ursula Yaxley when attending the United Nations assembly, and seeing that they had similar views on the misogynistic world that didn't know what human rights meant, she and Ursula had found common ground for a wonderful friendship.
And now, Ursula had forgotten herself for a moment, and she had given a real sentence to none other than Harry Potter.
She had signed her death warrant with her willingness to serve Justice like she should, instead of how she had to.
Hermione knew that as long as the actual Azkaban stay wasn't ordered, then everyone—Harry included—would have to pay for their sins.
Voldemort, while still being crazy, understood that all his Ministers were again losing their minds from the absolute power they had, and Harry…
Harry was a murder-machine who killed Muggles for fun and when not on duty to lead armies of dead wizards towards muggle-friendly governments, he practiced his hunting abilities, tracking down Muggles who knew anything about the Wizarding world, and killing them.
A true terrorist who blew up magical bombs in muggle towns.
In the fifty years Harry had spent under Voldemort's wing, he had turned into a monster that could be rivalled only by Voldemort.
If at all.
Harry was ruthless, Harry was evil, and he had no boundaries.
The Dark Lord's right hand could do what he pleased, when he pleased.
With pursed lips, Hermione watched Voldemort approach the tribune where Ron, Draco and Harry were seated at, and with a shake of her head she watched them all bow.
All, except Harry, who was smiling at his Master, his white teeth bared in a horrible smirk and green eyes shining with fire.
"Harry, Harry. You've been a very bad boy."
She would have believed them to be an item, had she not charged all three Ministers with racism and homophobia. They all were against gay couples, and Voldemort even declared the gays to be out of law, together with Muggles.
Lesbians were allowed to live as long as they carried children. Men with men was frowned upon. With a Crucio if you were lucky. Otherwise, Azkaban or death.
Female with female was allowed as long as women were pretty. Malfoy—and Ron!—liked to watch them perform.
Chauvinist pigs.
Human rights had no real meaning to anyone when the Dark Lord could show up at any court hearing, and overrule any decision.
It was a farce, and she spent all her free time on that farce.
The first ten years after she had left everything behind, she had spent in India, trying to learn the Arts of Necromancy in Manasa University, however, she had to put her studies on hold.
One after one, Voldemort had started taking over countries, and the flood of refugees—Muggleborns who refused to deal with the fascism that was an official government course—was so big that Hermione had to leave her ambitions aside and help people.
She had built good-quality camps, and established a food chain to help the people, struggling the first years without Voldemort's support.
She spent ten years in refugee camps, between cries and despair. The next ten years she had started to find some time to study Law, all the while keeping her duty as the Head Ambassador for Human Rights.
She had not seen Lord Voldemort for ten years. Ten long, hard years.
The first time she saw him, was when Harry was graduating from Illuminus University of Magic.
He was sitting in the front row, his black cloak shimmering with red from the inside, in a black shirt and a red tie. He looked as handsome as used to be. When those pale eyes with slit pupils met hers, Hermione was ready to explode from the tension she felt in her heart.
No matter the time, she still wanted him.
His pale eyes had left her and focused on Harry who was now accepting his diploma, and because she knew him, Hermione saw the proud glint in those pale eyes of his.
He had been smiling at Harry, as if Harry was his son. And Harry, proudly wearing the Dark Mark, knelt before his Master, his green eyes shining with life.
Voldemort had given Harry what no one else managed. He gave him his life back.
Hermione remembered watching them from the side, a feeling of jealousy and pain not leaving her heart for a minute.
She could have had this as well, had her morals not been in the way. If only she had given up, like Harry had, she could have been great.
Her personal wishes had no place in her heart and mind when millions of people depended on her.
She did succeed in obtaining her Law Mastery straight after managing to overcome her element, the Wind.
She used wind to help with weather where it was needed, and helped people with money she managed to get from Malfoy mostly.
She never approached Voldemort directly, and he never approached her.
She had never spoken to him in those long, fifty years.
Dracula was with her, and when Hermione's horniness would reach its peak and almost make her contact Voldemort, he would help them out. His form would become solid and he would satisfy any needs she had.
She still missed Marvolo's touches and his presence, but she knew she had made the correct choice.
She would have become a second Harry, most likely, if not worse, and people who didn't agree with the regime would have no one to count on.
Voldemort and his Horcruxes were monsters.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Ron, who had been more grey than dark twenty years ago, was now purely Dark, his power going to his head and making him copy Malfoy's behaviour.
She had been disappointed in Ron the most. He fell even without noticing it, even though his whole family had suffered from Voldemort's regime. And now, Ron was proudly helping to cause more mayhem in the world.
Malfoy… Draco had been stable for the first twenty years, and then he had started to follow in his father's footsteps. His actions and behaviour became more and more dark, the power he held destroying the last traces of a boy who could have been good.
Lucius would have been proud of his offspring who was on a steady path to surpass his father's evilness.
Those three men, in appearance no older than thirty, were looking at her now with barely contained glee. And those pale eyes that belonged to him, were now on her.
She was ready for this since she understood what Ursula had wanted to do. She knew he would come.
"Sir."
Yes, he was 'sir', not Marvolo, not My Lord.
She couldn't understand the emotions that were twirling in his pale eyes with slit pupils, and before she decided to break the eye contact, Voldemort turned away from her.
It hurt to be cast aside, even if that was her choice.
Lord Voldemort gave only one chance when it came to personal life, and Hermione now understood what Dracula had tried to tell her.
She and the Dark Lord would never be together again.
xxx
'I still don't understand why you refuse to resume your studies at Manasa.'
She was sitting on her balcony, its white colours bright among the darkness of the cave, looking directly ahead.
'Because I have more important things to do than play with Inferies.'
Dracula was yet again shaking his head at her, and Hermione could feel his disappointment.
She wasn't interested in elemental fairies anymore. She felt a presence in the red illuminated balcony opposite of her.
Seventy- two years have gone by, and they still haven't talked to one another.
The bright red balcony was being occupied by Voldemort, as she could feel his magic even from here, and also by Harry, who followed the Dark Lord like a shadow.
Harry could have had his own balcony, but he chose to be near his Lord. It was ironic that Harry Potter had the same element as Voldemort, opposite of Albus Dumbledore.
And Draco.
Draco's blue lit balcony was two balconies below, and she knew Draco had always come alone.
And Ron…Ron had no element, but Voldemort's Horcrux did.
Another red balcony was near the blue one of Draco, and Hermione wondered why Ron didn't sit with Harry and Voldemort when the fairies started to move slowly, twirling in the air, filling the magical cone with light.
xxx
"Thank Merlin Ron is not here."
Yes, he had to agree with Harry that it was hard to enjoy the music when Weasley kept counting all the fairies. And then balconies and musicians on the floor of the cone.
Twice he had made this mistake and had taken his Horcrux with him to his own balcony.
He knew he would have killed Weasley—Horcrux or not—had Harry not thrown Ronald from the balcony, and into the cone.
How beautifully had his Harry shaped. He was his right hand, and if he had any tender feelings left in him, he spent them on Harry. He had raised him to become great, and Harry didn't disappoint.
With a sigh, he looked at the white lit balcony in front of him.
When Hermione had finally learned how to control Wind, he had been proud of her.
He knew about her studies in Manasa, and when she had contacted him by letter, asking to establish a law system, he had agreed, even if she really disappointed him with her irrational decision.
She had such potential.
She could be so great if only she gave her attention to the things that mattered.
She was wasting her power and brilliant mind on things that did not matter. At all.
You cannot reach greatness if you give away parts of yourself here and there. You have to be an egoist and think about yourself only, and only then you can grasp your dream with your hand.
She could have become a Necromancy Mage already, but she chose to put her studies on hold and then she had decided that Necromancy was a branch too dark to meddle with.
She thought Harry was an example of what happened to people who accepted Dark Arts fully.
Harry was crazy, truly crazy, and that was why he acted the way he did. Not because of the Dark Arts.
Hermione stopped using Dark Arts, and therefore she couldn't finish her studies, as Necromancy's base was Dark Arts in its glory.
You had to raise inferies before you could learn how to control souls in the afterlife.
And Hermione chose to run around, her head on fire, slamming his Ministers with lawsuits for every breath they took.
Muggleborns worshipped her, the forever young heroine who helped everywhere she could.
Who fought for human rights when none existed.
Too bad for Hermione, she had forgotten about herself.
She was dressed in red and white, he knew it—her usual colours—and he wanted to rip the clothes from her body and just take her here, in this very cave.
But then he'd have to kill her.
He could not forgive her that she had thrown away her potential.
He could forgive her for leaving, but only if she asked for it. And she wouldn't.
His sanity was still questionable, but he wasn't as crazy as that day, in the cave.
Lord Voldemort smiled a small, sad smile as he finally looked away from her balcony and focused on the music.
It was a pity, really.
xxx
It was the eleventh melody, her favourite.
The horns and the violin were speeding up, the tune going more and more powerful, reminding her with every note of the first time she had heard it.
Near Marvolo, with Marvolo.
She had been such a young, naïve girl who believed Voldemort could change. Who believed in justice without doing anything herself.
Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek and she closed her eyes, only to open them a second later when the magical tune was disrupted by a loud crash.
Blinking a few times to chase the tears away, Hermione leaned over the parapet and stared.
Oh my god!
The red-lit balcony that had been occupied by Ron was now on the floor of the cone. And it was turning to dust before her own eyes.
Then, a blue-lit balcony that belonged to Draco fell down as well. The balcony was turning to sand, and Hermione saw Draco's blond hair appear from the ruins only to turn to sand as well.
WHAT?!
One by one, balconies started falling, crashing into the ground and turning to sand. The whole cave was now shaking uncontrollably, and Hermione rushed outside, the elemental fairies flying around in panic.
Voldemort and Harry were already standing outside, near the tall rock with four elements, their wands out.
"What is happening?" It was ironic that her first words in seventy two years towards Voldemort would be like this.
"I'd like to know that too." His reply was dry, but he wasn't joking. His eyes with slit pupils were highly alert.
The cave suddenly fell fully underground, the lights dimming as everything was turning to sand.
Wind started to blow, and with terror, Hermione understood that it wasn't her wind.
"Control it!" Voldemort's barked order made her jump a bit as she was looking at the wave of upcoming wind that would not stop before anything.
Her hands were before her, her palms shining white, but the wind would not listen to her, keeping its steady approach.
"We're immortal!" Harry's cry sounded like a whisper in the brutal gushes of wind that were followed by sand. Everything she could see was falling into the ground, turning to sand, and the wave of air was coming closer.
A wall of fire appeared between them and the wave, and Hermione turned to look at Voldemort and Harry, their hands out and burning.
Her heart was in her throat as she watched the air-wave simply go through the barriers, as if they weren't there.
Harry started to scream first, falling onto his knees and looking at Voldemort in horror. Harry's form turned to sand and the wind that reached them carried it away.
She had no clue what was happening, and neither did Voldemort who was looking at her now.
"Marvolo," she breathed out and reached for his hand. If that was the last seconds of her life, she chose to spend them with him.
His fingers closed around hers and his grip was painful, but she loved it.
She wasn't dead yet.
The wave of fresh air finally reached them, and with terror, she saw Voldemort's other hand that was turning into sand and falling onto the ground.
'Don't leave me,' she begged the Horcrux, not wanting to face the darkness she had witnessed from Tom's memories, alone.
She was a coward.
'I won't. You have my word I'll do everything to stay with you.'
"We fucked up, didn't we?" Voldemort's last words before he turned to sand and Hermione screamed when she felt something pull at her soul.
The wind that was destroying the world was the wind of changes, she understood when she felt her own body turn to dust, and the pull on her soul intensified.
The wind rushed the sand in large tornadoes and reached every single corner of a round, blue planet.
If you change time for one person, you change it for everyone.
The timeline where they had been one step from hell was destroyed.
xxx
When you meddle with time, you have to understand that everything could go wrong, no matter how hard you try to prevent it.
It could have been Albus Dumbledore who had remembered everything when he shouldn't have. It could be that the flower you stepped onto, would never be given to someone and that small part could shatter the world you know.
It could have been Tom who remembered her before he was supposed to.
It could be anything that changed the timeline and now, the planet the way they knew it did not exist, taken by the sands of time and winds of change.
There are moments in our life that if changed, would turn the world upside down.
Hermione's last thought before her soul left the destroyed planet, was simple.
'I'm sorry.'
It was all her fault.
xxx
xxx
xxx
"Step aside, you silly girl!"
Head with red hair shook and she screamed at him, begging.
"Not Harry, please, take me, but not Harry!"
He wanted to laugh at her silliness and foolishness.
Such a Gryffindor.
He didn't need to get to her, he needed to get to Harry Potter.
He raised his wand to fire off the Killing Curse when a question suddenly formed in his mind.
'Who is Harry Potter?'
And then, something in his mind broke, and an avalanche of memories crashed upon him.
'Who is Harry Potter?'
'He's a mad junky with a Dark Lord for a pal.'
Harry…
Hermione…
He saw the Mudblood rush to Harry and he threw his knife at her, killing her on the spot even without the Killing Curse.
His red eyes were now looking into the green ones of Harry, and then he remembered everything.
Harry getting his Dark Mark.
Harry by his side, the Commander of Dark Forces.
Harry turning to sand.
He must have used the spell to bind his mind and memories, and when the first flood of memories attacked, he felt everything. The other one, were just images of Hermione, Harry, Draco and Ronald.
It felt like something was added to his mind, some entity that was giving him information before tingling with magic, and disappearing, only to leave images and feelings behind.
Images of dead Dumbledore and Lucius.
He didn't know such magic existed, but he wasn't complaining.
He'd try to understand what had happened to return the memories from the future that would never exist. He had a lot to think about.
Trying to clear his mind, Lord Voldemort watched memory after memory before getting up from the floor he had to sit upon, and approached the crib.
Green eyes were full of tears and Lord Voldemort raised his wand.
He'd have none of that.
"Shush." And a beam left his wand, hitting Harry and making him fall asleep.
He wasn't actually going to murder Harry.
This was going to be an even better Harry than how he- now- remembered and he knew what to do with this baby.
Now, he would wait for Severus and Albus, and kill them both before correcting all the mistakes.
He needed to get the Elder wand, the cloak and the resurrection stone. Then, he would destroy all his Horcruxes and reassemble his soul when turning to Death for immortality.
And then…
The face with thin lips, already modified through the usage of Darkest of Arts, was lit with joy as he kept looking at the boy's sleeping figure, his red eyes with slit pupils burning with victory.
"Harry, Harry…"
xxx
a/n The end.
NOT! haha, sorry, couldn't resist XD
Surprise? :)
ONE MORE CHAPTER before the very end, and it's for real this time. So, the next chapter will be the last and there will be 'Completed' status. Maybe i'll change the summary as well.
See why I need two epilogues? XD
Thank you for your comments! I'll see about Dracula...One shots..Why not? Thank you guys till the next, last chapter!
I. I really wanted you to believe that this was the last chapter. I think most of you expected something completely different ;) I hope you liked it. See you soon!
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Two Steps From Hell