The instant Harry reappeared, Lily and T'Chone were on them. They'd been beyond frantic when Harry had returned from Nidavellir, and at first, he feared he'd been too late. Nurmengard had been reduced to a crater kilometers across. The surrounding area was being pelted by falling debris and terrorized by fleeing Dementors. He should have known that Lily would not have gone down so easily. Just like with Harry, she'd laid down her life to protect Septimius, and invoked powerful blood magic to defend him. It only made his feelings about the woman all the more complicated. He had to wonder just how different the two versions of her were, and how much her willingness sacrifice herself for the sake of her son counted for.
Hela had fallen victim to the same magic that Voldemort had, but she hadn't suffered the same consequences. Harry had only gotten a glimpse of her, before fleeing, but what he saw had spooked him. A shadow, attached to her, shimmering in darkness despite the blaze of fire, a figure obscured as if separated from the world by a veil. He'd have to see Septimius' memories to learn more. Had Hela gotten her hands on the Elder Wand, or had it been destroyed in the explosion? And was that shadow what he thought it was, and hoped it would not be? He'd have time for those questions later, for now, he needed to care for the boy in his arms. He'd barely spared him a second glance back at Hogwarts, so pre-occupied he'd been with the task at hand, but now he felt his heart going out to him.
He'd just lost everything. Harry knew what that was like. "Hey." He said softly, holding up a hand to stall his childrens' approach. "We're here, you're safe." Septimius drew in a ragged breath, nodding, but not letting go. "You're welcome with us, for as long as you want."
"Dad, is he alright?" Lily asked urgently. "What happened?"
Harry glanced around the room at the growing crowd. He sent Nat a subtle look, and she began clearing everyone out. The Sanctum would likely need to be expanded again, he thought distantly. They'd need new protections too, the fidelius at least. Blood wards too, if Septimius could consider this place a home. Harry hoped he'd be able to, blood wards or not.
"Nurmengard was destroyed." He said quietly. "He and Hela were all that were left. I think… Lily sacrificed herself to protect him."
"Is that… what happened?" Septimius said, his voice hollow. "She's why I survived?"
"She did the same for me, in a different life." Harry said, setting him down. Lily and T'chone moved to him. While T'Chone patted his shoulder, Lily hovered beside him indecisively. "I know that it's a lot to process."
"You can have a bedroom next to ours." Lily said.
"You heard me." Septimius said to her, as if he hadn't even heard her speak. He glanced at Harry. "You came. You don't even know me."
"You're family." Harry said simply. "And even if you weren't… you didn't deserve to die. You didn't deserve any of this." Those words were what finally broke through Septimius' shock, and he began to sob. Not knowing what else to do, Harry hugged him, and he clung back.
Eventually, Harry led the boy to his new bedroom. Septimius was passive, allowing Harry to lead him down the maze of corridors. He looked so small, and Harry resolved to stay with him until he fell asleep.
He glanced around his new room nervously. "Mr. Potter." He said, trying to sound formal.
Harry shook his head. "Just call me Harry." He said. He nodded, reaching into a pocket in his robes and holding his hand out. Harry blinked in shock, realizing that he recognized the stone he held in his hand. He'd held it once, so very long ago- the Philosopher's Stone. "How did you get this?" He asked.
"My mum gave it to me." Septimius said."I need the elixir of life… apparently." Harry got the sense that there was much more to the story, but he wasn't going to press it now.
"I'll make sure you have it." Harry said, taking the stone.
"There's something else." Septimius shoved a book in his hands. Harry leafed through it, unable to decipher the dense arithmatic equations within. "My mum's notes."
He flipped the book shut, a sense of unease in his gut. In his hands were the fruits of Lily's labors, the product of every terrible thing she'd done. Part of him didn't want to know what lay within. But blissful ignorance was a luxury he didn't have.
-----
It had been a long, long night, and he was exhausted- physically, mentally, and emotionally after… everything.
He'd infiltrated Hogwarts and rescued Lily, fought Riddle and Dumbledore, learned of the horrible things his mother had done to his dearest friends, fought her, fought Grindelwald, reunited with Wanda, forged a new staff, and saved his half-brother all in one night. After putting the kids to bed, he was ready to collapse.
Then he saw them- Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. They'd claimed a corner of the living room, with six seats cloistered together. One was empty, meant for him. Suddenly, his fatigue didn't feel so important. Nothing felt better than sitting down and relaxing with them, but something made him hesitate.
Luna and Hermione both looked so different from the people he'd known, and not just because of the tattoos Lily had branded them with. He remembered Luna's innocent passion for life and curiosity, the way she bounced back from any personal slight, and how fiercely she valued her friends. Would she still, after everything she'd been through? And Hermione… they'd been through so much together. She'd been his sister in all but blood. But this Hermione didn't even know him, and he'd lived so much life since he'd known her. How could things ever be the same, after all of that?
The answer was, of course, that they couldn't be the same. But they could still be something. Ginny shot him a not subtle glance, and Harry heeded her call, sitting down in an armchair that had been reserved for him. Luna and Hermione's curious eyes turned towards him.
"We've told them a bit." Ron explained. "About everything."
"Oh. And they believe it?" Harry asked.
"Oh, absolutely." Luna said definitively. "I don't think you could make up a story like that. It all reminds me of the clockwise counter-reavers."
"The clockwise counter-reavers?" Harry said faintly, his heart tripping over itself.
"Oh yes. They supposedly feast on your perception of time. When you find yourself losing track of time, its because a counter-reaver has passed by." Luna said in a voice curling with nostalgia. "That's the story, anyway."
Harry wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, mostly he wanted to hug Luna, but he figured that would be too much too soon. Instead, he said softly. "You really remind me of her."
"Her?"
"You." He shook his head, blinking back tears. "You're always you."
"Who else would I be?" Luna asked.
"Never change, Luna." Ginny said, beaming at her with warm eyes.
Hermione continued to regard him curiously, but not suspiciously. "It's a lot to take in." She admitted. "But there's something about you that's…familiar."
Harry nodded, trying to keep his hopes in check. It had taken time to rebuild that familiarity with Ron and Neville. It'd take time with Hermione and Luna as well. "If it helps, I can tell you some stories."
"What do you want to start with?" Ron asked. "The troll?"
Harry grinned. "Definitely the troll."
"Only you three." Ginny snickered. "Could become best friends after defeating a mountain troll." Hermione leaned forward; her interest piqued.
"Well." Harry began. "We were in charms class during our first year, learning the levitation charm. And Ron was bungling it up."
"Of course he was." Hermione said, while Ron grumbled.
"You corrected him on his pronunciation- its leviosa, not leviosa." He quoted, imitating an eleven-year-old Hermione.
"I may have responded…" Ron trailed off.
"Like a prat?" Ginny suggested.
"Sure, lets go with that." Harry allowed. "You ended up crying in the dungeon bathroom. But then our defense professor of the year came running into the hall during dinner, screaming about how there was a troll in the dungeon before passing out."
"And this man… was the defense teacher?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, its even more ironic than you think." Harry chuckled. "But that's another story. Ron and I, of course, went straight towards the dungeon."
"Of course." Neville said.
Harry went on to describe the battle, how he'd jumped up on the troll's shoulders and jammed his wand up its nose, and how Ron had levitated its club with a (correctly pronounced) levitation charm and knocked it out. "After that, the teachers found us and freaked out. You lied to them for us, taking the blame for our recklessness. And we were inseparable from then on."
"And that is how the golden trio was born." Neville declared jokingly.
"The golden trio?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Were we model students?"
Ron snorted. "Hardly. We got in trouble all the time, and only most of it was justified. But we were-"
"-pretty amazing." Harry finished.
-----
Harry looked out over the great hall, seeing the students that had piled in. They were in a mix of school robes and nightclothes, some clutched bags and trunks, as if they were prepared to evacuate. Their faces were weary, the younger children looking to the older students for reassurance that couldn't be given. Flanking on the sides were Kingsley's men, the men of the Order who'd been sent to Hogwarts in response to the attack. Cloistered in a chamber in the back of the hall were his own supporters, called to his side in his hour of need. They would aid him, though perhaps not in the way that they'd imagined.
He felt that same weariness as the students, but also a cruel sense of triumph. They were all like lambs to a slaughter. It was then that Harry realized this wasn't a dream. This was happening- now.
Kingsley turned to Tom Riddle and said. "Things are still chaotic, but that's nearly everyone."
Riddle felt a sense of urgency, it would only be a matter of time before Dumbledore and Grindelwald returned. But the two wizards were the least of his concerns. He'd seen into Potter's mind. He knew what Death had planned for them all. He was doing what he needed to, to stand a chance against her. He slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling the reassuring power of the Soul Stone, and he hissed in parseltongue. "Come to me."
The sharp hiss drew looks of confusion from Kingsley and Flitwick, but Riddle paid them no mind. Harry felt sick, but he suppressed the feeling as she searched Riddle's thoughts. Surely, he had more than mindless slaughter planned, surely there was a purpose to this.
Riddle stepped forward, clearing his throat to draw the eyes of the crowd. "Tonight… has been a hard night for us all." He said, as if starting a grand uplifting speech. Harry knew that wasn't Riddle's style, and that he had nothing more than a few sentences planned. Riddle's anticipation grew in tandem with Harry's impotent horror. Riddle's emotions peaked into vicious excitement as the Basilisk reared up behind him. Terror briefly broke across the kids' faces, before they dropped over dead. Some managed to avert their eyes just in time and made to flee. The professors wheeled around in confusion and were all felled instantly.
A dark, ritual power enveloped Riddle- no, Lord Voldemort. He grasped the Soul Stone, the perfect channel for the sacrifice he'd made, falling to the floor as its power overwhelmed him. He was trapped between two terrible forces- that of the ritual and of the infinity stone- and though he held on, he felt himself warp and stretch under the pressure. With a roar, he surged to his feet, reasserting his will- over both himself and the room. The souls of the deceased, both the fresh ones of the students and the lingering souls of the ghosts, hung in stasis. They were strung up by the power of the Soul Stone, tethered to him and his will.
Riddle exhaled, reveling in the power at his fingertips. It was time to feast.
-----
Harry shot bolt upright, nearly colliding with Wanda. "Harry!" She said urgently. "Something's wrong! I felt something." They gone to bed together, and he'd fallen asleep almost instantly.
Ginny and Natasha began to stir, but they all felt so distant to Harry, like they were the dream, and he was still in that hall with Voldemort. "I know." He said. "I saw it."
"Saw it?" Wanda asked.
"Voldemort." Ginny said darkly. Harry jumped out of bed, causing Shuri to groan sleepily. His staff was in his hand, summoned to him with barely a thought.
"Wait." Natasha said, alertness filling her. "You're not going alo-" Flames engulfed Harry, and he was gone. He would never have to worry about overexerting himself with apparation, or with being blocked by wards. Even the heart of Hogwarts was open to him, and he intended on appearing right behind Voldemort and burning him and his damn snake alive.
But when the flames parted, Harry wasn't in Hogwarts. He levitated himself into the air, seeing nothing but wilderness in all directions. It didn't seem possible that he'd been redirected, so where was he?
He saw spotted a lake, and his stomach lurched at its familiarity. In the distance were mountains, also far too familiar. Even the forest bore a striking resemblance to the forbidden forest Harry and his friends had ventured into far too many times. He let himself fall, feeling ill. He was at Hogwarts… where it had been, but it was as if the castle had never existed.
A portal opened, and Hela stepped through. She and Harry gaped at each other for a moment. Then they both reacted, Harry readying his staff while Hela lifted her hand. She held the Elder Wand, her fingers grasping it like vines around a tree, and Harry braced himself- only for Hela's shadow to grasp her wrist. Septimius had tried to explain what he'd seen of Hela to Harry, but he hadn't been able to get his point across- Harry didn't blame him. 'Shadow' didn't really do justice to the black form that accompanied Hela. Harry found himself struggling to focus on it, the very thought of it was slippery, constantly shifting away from him in his mind. Still, Harry knew exactly what it- she- was.
"Hello." Harry said, far calmer than he felt. "Couldn't wait to see me again?"
"Were you responsible for this?" Hela sneered, practically spitting.
"Wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your shadow." Harry scoffed. The Shadow shifted, and Harry got the sense that she was amused. "Who'll be able to tell you that I didn't do this. Isn't that right Death?"
Hela's mouth froze as the shadow stepped into her body. 'Hela' appraised him, but it was clear she wasn't in control anymore. Death spoke, her voice soft, almost as if it were coming on the wind. "I know this wasn't you, Harry. It could only have been Tom Riddle."
Harry cocked his head. Something in how she said that felt off. She'd concluded correctly, but Death, as he'd understood it, had an eagle's eye view of the universe. She should have known. "Any idea why the castle disappeared?" He asked.
"Have you reconsidered my offer?" She countered. Her non-answer wasn't conclusive, she wasn't likely to give him information for free.
Harry bristled. "What, to be your sex slave for all eternity? No thanks."
"It would be better, that way. People are suffering right now. Your entire world is suffering. Wouldn't you rather take that suffering onto yourself? Spare them that pain?" Harry turned his head away, not wanting to acknowledge her point. "With your cooperation, I could restore everything. I could be… judicious, in how I use my access to the world. I'd spare your friends."
She was negotiating. There was a time, not so long ago, where he might have accepted her terms, consigned himself to an afterlife of torment to save his friends. It would have been an act of foolishness. He couldn't trust her promises, such as they were. And it was selfish, in a way, to save his friends at the expense of the rest of the world, who Death would presumably be less 'judicious' with.
No. He couldn't accept her terms. But the fact that she felt the need to compromise was if anything, encouraging. Did she feel vulnerable? How odd, for a force of nature to feel vulnerable against a human. Harry heard a portal open behind him, and he extended his staff protectively. "Do you really think you can protect them from me?" Death quipped.
Natasha was at his side, despite Harry's desperate attempts to subtly shoo her back. She'd extended tao mandalas around her wrists. Ginny flanked him from his other side. "We do not need protecting." Wanda said, landing beside them, and Harry detected a flicker of surprise from Death. She hadn't known that Wanda had joined him.
Death smiled cruelly, and Harry knew that she intended on proving her point. She released Hela, who rocked back, reacting as if Wanda and the rest had suddenly appeared. Harry got the impression that she was in over her head. In some sense she'd gotten power out of whatever deal she'd struck with Death, the power to destroy her enemies. But she'd also lost power, the ability to shape her own destiny.
Harry didn't feel sorry for her, and as Hela's look of shock schooled into a mask of venom, he decided she didn't even deign being addressed, aside from with fire. She was unaffected by the inferno he vented at her, of course, and her counterattack was swift. In a flash, she'd vaulted behind them. Harry slowed time, following her movements while Ginny cast spells at the space Hela had just been.
Hela's eyes glowed green, signaling that she was about to unleash the killing curse, but it was Death that Harry had eyes on. The shadow flickered forward, its hand closing around Ginny's wrist. Harry saw her age, wrinkles spreading quickly up her arm even with slowed time. A desperate panic seized him. He couldn't lose Ginny, wouldn't lose her. Not again. He grabbed her shoulder, bringing her into synch with him. Phoenix fire wrapped around them, and Harry willed it to take them away, but the Goddesses' grip around her only tightened.
Simultaneously, Hela had thrown out a hail of killing curses. They were currently arcing away from her, their paths bending in the air. With horror, Ginny realized what was happening to her, feeling her life slipping away as surely as the moments ticked by. Then a grim determination flashed across her eyes. With her free hand, she pointed her wand at her wrist and hissed a cutting curse, lopping off her hand. Death's power released her, if for a moment. The flames around him and Ginny billowed out, engulfing the others. As quickly as they had flared, the flames receded, and they were in the Sanctum.
Ginny fell to the floor, her body withered beyond recognition, and blood pooling on the floor from her wrist. With a thought, Philosopher's Stone was in his hand, and in the next moment he was slicing open his palm. His blood ran over the stone, transforming into a translucent-golden liquid that dribbled into Ginny's mouth.
Seconds ticked by as Harry stared down at her, looking for the smallest sign that the elixir was working. If need be, he'd tap into the Time Stone, even if it meant breaking this world even more than it already was. Slowly, ever so slowly, the elixir did its work. Weathered lines disappeared from her face, and her withered arm filled out against the rotting tatters of her sleeve. Her hand didn't return, and Harry suspected that no science or magic would be able to regrow it. Ginny had escaped Death, but with a price. Death demanded her due, and her claim, Harry knew, was greater than any magic.
Harry let himself fold into her, relief doping him up like a drug. No matter the price, she was alive.