Chapter 336: The Last Round
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I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.
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29 October 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)
In Harry Potter's humble opinion, things had changed too much in just a few weeks. Umbridge was arrested for robbing Gringotts of all things, Grindelwald had apparently escaped Nurmengard, and Albus Dumbledore hadn't been in the Great Hall ever since his fated enemy's escape. Most people thought that he was out searching for Grindelwald, trying to defeat him before the Dark Lord raised another army and brought Europe into another war.
Funnily enough, ever since the news of the former Dark Lord's escape became well-known, attendance for his new defence club almost doubled. He had to stifle a bitter chuckle at that. It was funny that people stopped harassing him about saying that Voldemort was back when another Dark Lord escaped too.
Maybe now they were finally beginning to understand what he'd been warning them about for the past year, even if it was about another Dark Lord. The fear in their eyes was palpable, and Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction, despite the gravity of the situation. But deep down, he knew this wasn't what he wanted—not validation born out of terror.
The daily prophet stopped slandering him. After all, Fudge couldn't really deny Grindelwald's return. He'd have been mocked on the international scene if he did that, and the ICW was definitely not going to let that stand. Instead, he increased the funding of the DMLE which started a hiring spree, and organized patrols all over the country to provide security.
The problem that came with that was that Aurors weren't exactly free to come to teach at Hogwarts, and the students found themselves with no actual defence professor ever since Umbridge was arrested. There were rumours that Dumbledore was going to teach the material himself, but Grindelwald's escape made him busy as well.
Harry couldn't really blame the headmaster. If he had beaten Voldemort and put him in prison, only to find out that he escaped years later, he'd be busy hunting him down too. Not that he could beat Voldemort. What happened in the third task was proof enough that he couldn't. The only reason he escaped was through pure luck because their wands were brothers.
Nevertheless, it was time for the part of his day that he looked forward to every day, his lessons with Harrold. The new student was a fountain of information, both magical and political, and Harry could feel himself getting better with every session. For some reason, he felt some kind of kinship with Harrold. It was something that he couldn't really put into words, but he wasn't really a trustful person; the Dursleys saw to that. However, the moment his eyes met Harrold's, he knew that he could trust the other boy.
And boy, was his trust rewarded. Harry was taught magic that he never even heard about, and learned elemental spells and duelling tips that made him a far better fighter than he had just a couple of months prior. And yet, Harry knew that he barely scratched the surface of what Harrold could teach him. It was more than a little intimidating to see someone his age be this powerful and this knowledgeable. This was also the guy who got Fudge to arrest his Undersecretary. Harry had no idea how he pulled that off, especially how he got the Goblins to think she robbed Gringotts – seriously, who thought that was even plausible? Nevertheless, the woman was mostly arrested because of the artefacts Harrold kept stealing from her, only for him to have hidden them in her own office.
Deciding to focus on the task at hand, Harry walked to their usual training room and found the other boy sitting in a chair, "So, what are we doing today?"
Smith gave him a sympathetic look, "We're not doing magic today. I'm going to ask you for something weird and I need you to trust me enough not to blow up in my face."
"You're making me uncomfortable, Harrold, what is it?"
"I need to study your scar for a bit. It's sort of important."
Harry stiffened at that, "What do you mean important?"
"I have a theory about what it is, and if I'm right, and I hope I'm not, it's going to be a very dangerous thing."
His scar being dangerous? What was he on about? Sure, it has been faintly stinging ever since Voldemort returned and the dreams were very unsettling, to say the least. But it was a very good Voldemort warning system, even if made it unbearable to be in the man's presence for long.
Still, he had lived for over a decade with this scar, and he was fine. Even if he wished it could be removed somehow, the symbol of his parents' death for his sake.
However, his gut told him to trust Harrold and it hasn't been wrong yet, "Fine, but what's your theory?"
The other boy nodded and started to wave his wand. Harry felt some small tingles on his forehead but nothing really uncomfortable. As he did this, Harrold spoke up, "What do you know about your scar?"
"Dumbledore said that it was a connection between the two of us, that it has a bit of Voldemort's talent which is why I'm a Parselmouth. I can sometimes feel when he's near, or when he's angry. It burns when I do that."
"He isn't exactly wrong about that. Your scar is a connection between you and Voldemort, but that's not it. It's far more than just that."
Harry couldn't help but gulp at that, "What is it?"
"You have to understand, that when he tried to kill you using the killing curse, it backfired. The killing curse affects the soul itself. It forces it to leave the body, which causes the victims to die instantly. However, Voldemort did something to stop his soul from leaving. I heard rumours of him bragging about being immortal, and his being back is proof enough of that. The things that anchored Voldemort to life did a good enough job to stop him from moving on, even if he was barely more than a shade, but the spell still pushed his soul out. Like an elastic band, most of his soul was pulled back into the material realm, but a part of him was ripped apart by the impact. This small piece of soul, which didn't have anything to anchor was about to fade away. It needed a living body, another soul to power it, and Voldemort's body was already gone. Instead of dying, in just a fraction of a second, it sought out the only living thing it could find, a small baby who had a small scar on his head, a scar that was linked directly to his soul due to the nature of the spell that caused it."
As Harrold spoke up, Harry felt the air he breathed become more oppressive. He wanted to say something, but his mouth just refused to say anything. Thankfully, the other boy wasn't looking for a response and just continued, "Normally, the soul shard would have sucked your small unformed one completely dry and starved itself out of existence. It would have killed you both. But your mother's sacrifice was powerful enough to stop it, a very potent form of blood magic that was made to protect you directly from Voldemort and the small piece of soul still counted. It made sure that the two of you were separate, even if the soul-shard took a small fragment of your life force to sustain itself."
"So, Voldemort can't die as long as I have it."
"Yes. I was currently trying to see if the scar was the actual soul shard, but it was just its physical manifestation. If I were to cut that piece of skin and regrow a new one, the scar would still be there. It's even a bit worse than that. Your mother's sacrifice was to protect her child from Voldemort. That last part is very important. It created a limit on the protection, making it far more potent as long as you're a child but if I had to guess, when you're seventeen, the magic would start to slowly disappear, and with that, the soul shard will suck your life force dry."
Harry's hands were clammy, "And can't you remove it?"
"You're a very special case, Harry. No one has ever been in your position. An accidental soul shard unsuccessfully possessing a baby thanks to a powerful blood-anchored sacrifice, is not something that happened before. Ever. The only good thing is that your mother's protection is potent enough to keep you and the soul-shard's connection to your own soul to be spotty at best. Normally, you'd have needed to die for the piece of soul to be destroyed, but I have a plan."
Like a drowning man seeing land, Harry grasped into the small hope offered to him, "What is it?"
"It's a long shot but it should work. You need to be hit with a weakened killing curse by Voldemort."
Harry couldn't help but burst into laughter at that, "Wouldn't that, you know, kill me?"
The other boy shook his head, "Normally, yes. However, you have to understand the ritual Voldemort used for his rebirth. He used your blood to trick the protection that he was a part of you. It circumvented the protection, but it's still there. After all, its purpose isn't to protect you from yourself, just from Voldemort. The trick is that by doing this, Voldemort also anchored you to his survival. Your blood protection wouldn't let your soul depart easily while a part of it still existed elsewhere. Unfortunately, a fully powered killing curse would just overwhelm the magic and kill both of you. Voldemort would be robbed of his new body, and you would be dead. Now, a weakened killing curse, if it's not strong enough to kill two people at once, that's something that you could theoretically survive. Now, what would happen if someone tweaked the protections a bit, made it so any killing curse would hit the scar first, and then go through you? The soul fragment would be like a paper-thin shield that would be destroyed by the killing curse first, and if you survive the rest of the curse, then you'll be free of it forever."
"It's all very far-fetched, Harrold. And how exactly are you planning on tweaking my mother's blood protection?" Harry asked. He knew that the other boy was a very good wizard, but what his mother did baffled experts from all over the world.
"Like this," he returned before he pressed his palm quickly into Harry's chest. It burned, that was the first thought in his head, which spread all around him, like fire in his veins, before being localized to his scar, which burned as well. Somehow, the stinging he felt since Voldemort's return faded away slightly, and the burning cooled seconds later. When he opened his eyes, Harry noticed a small raven tattoo on his right arm.
"What the fuck was that?"
Harrold simply shrugged, "I have a passing understanding of blood magic. I added the redirection logic towards your scar in exchange for reducing the protection by a year. I also created a small barrier between you and the scar. It's not much, but it's enough to spare you the pain if you meet Voldemort again."
Harry felt betrayed by that, "You messed with my mum's protection?"
"Yes, but I did it to give you your best chance at survival. Now, you only have to be hit with a low-powered killing curse. It would be better that Voldemort himself cast it. The blood protection was made against him. Even if his body is seen as a part of yours, his soul is not, and neither is his magic. Your protections are just more efficient against spells cast by him. Even if it's just a small percent, you'll still have a far better chance at survival."
"Yeah," Harry replied sarcastically, "Because all I have to do is let Voldemort kill me. And even then, I have to hope that he somehow messes up the spell he cast a thousand times. For some reason, I don't see him holding back when he tries to kill me."
"I'll handle the spell's power, so don't worry about it."
"You're absolutely mental. I'm going to Dumbledore. He'll fix whatever you did to my mum's protection."
Harry felt himself being frozen slightly, "Dumbledore's plan is to get you to kill yourself hoping that fate would somehow save you."
When he could move again, the boy who lived cast a spear of lightning at his former friend, which dissipated into nothing, "You're lying."
"How do you know I am? You're trusting Dumbledore without even thinking about it. Have you ever considered that you don't even know him, who he truly is?"
"I know him enough," Harry responded.
"No, you don't. And you shouldn't trust him so easily. But that's beside the point; I'm giving you a chance at actually killing Voldemort. Not in a decade, not in a year, not even in a month, just a few days. All I'm asking you is to go along with a plan that could save thousands of lives, and maybe even your own. There would be no war. Your friends would all be safe in the castle and wouldn't end up fighting for you, wouldn't end up dying for you. I'm giving an actual chance at living a normal life without experiencing war."
"You're asking me to kill myself."
Smith rolled his eyes, "I'm asking you to be logical about things. Your options are to either get hit with a killing curse now with a high chance of survival, get hit by one later, fight a war and probably be hit with a killing curse with a lower chance of survival, or just stay alive for a few years until your mother's protection fades away and you die, for real this time, as the soul-shard drains your life force dry. The more you wait, the lower your chances of survival are. What I'm proposing is your best option. They're all pretty bad, but this is the one you have the highest chance at surviving."
"Just stay away from me!" Harry yelled.
The other boy gave him an exasperated look, "I don't have time for this and I can't afford to let you ruin months of work because of your childishness. This is exactly why I wanted not to tell you anything; you're so damn short-sighted sometimes. You know what, maybe he'll be able to convince you."
Harry barely had any time to think before his housemate turned into a raven. Hundreds of the same birds encircled him until he couldn't even see the room's walls. Slowly, as the birds dissipated, Harry realized that he wasn't in the castle anymore.
He heard a crack signifying that someone apparated, and a familiar voice that got him to freeze, "Harrold! I just got your message while I was in the middle of a meeting, so you better make it quick."
"Nothing much. I just need you to convince your godson to go through with my plan."
"Harry's here?" his godfather ran with an excited tone.
However, Harry didn't have any of it and pointed his wand at the two of them, "Stay back!"
Sirius raised his hands, "That's not exactly the welcome I expected from you, Harry."
"Well, I didn't expect you to be betraying the order."
"Betraying the order? Harrold and I are working to kill Voldemort. Permanently."
Harry rolled his eyes, "And that includes me being hit with a killing curse too?"
Sirius turned towards the other boy and glared, "Seriously? When you said you had a plan to destroy the Horcrux in his scar, I expected it to be better than just firing a killing curse at him."
In the meantime, Harry's godson walked in front of him, as if he was guarding him from danger.
"For fuck's sake, Sirius. I'm not going to fire a killing curse at him. What I'm talking about is a tweaked version of the killing curse that's too weak to bypass his mother's protection while destroying the Horcrux. I can give you the fucking arithmancy. It's his only shot at surviving past his twenties without his mother's protection."
"We'll talk about this later," Sirius replied while still glaring only to soften when he looked at Harry, "I'll ask the specifics, but if Harrold says it's the only way, it probably is. If only he didn't keep these kinds of secrets…"
Smith took offence to that, "Hey, I didn't keep it a secret. I told you exactly what was in the scar and I had dozens of different plans depending on my analysis of the scar. If I wanted to lie, I wouldn't have said anything and just tied him up somewhere and tricked Voldemort into killing him. His chances of survival would have been lower since there's a bit of willpower needed to not succumb to Death, but it was still a viable option. And you and I know that if I would spent a lot less effort if I wanted to kill him."
"I know you mean well, Harrold, but you should have told me about this plan in particular."
"I'm just being efficient I could have just as easily arranged for him to be hit with a killing curse anyway. I came to him and spoke to him honestly despite the fact that I was taking a risk if he refused. I'm risking my own life because it gave your godson better odds at survival. You know what will happen if I'm still stuck in this place if I don't go home. So, excuse me if I wasn't delicate and thoughtful enough to care about both your feelings when I'm fucking risking my own hide to save his fucking life."
"You're seriously saying that I should trust that guy?" Harry asked with a sarcastic voice.
Harrold seemed amused by that question, "I am the person you can trust the most. After all, I am you."
Harrold's face slowly morphed when he finished speaking. His brown eyes and hazel eyes turned into a familiar black shaggy hair and his mother's green eyes. In front of him was an almost exact version of himself staring back at him impatiently. However, what drew Harry the most was the distinct lack of scar on the boy's forehead.
He couldn't help but exclaim, "What the fuck?"
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AN: I'm not sure about just coming out and telling Canon Harry everything just before it happens, but I wrote it because I thought that his perspective while interacting with his counterpart honestly is going to be nice. Anyway, I know that I made Harry a bit too blunt, but there's a reason for that, which is explored in the next chapter. I'll admit that I rushed this a bit. It's mostly because it could have dragged out a lot and I didn't want to risk it. I still think I forced things a bit too much, so I might rewrite it depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.