"What…" Harry breathed. "What did you just do?"
Wanda, curled in his arms, looked up at him. "I saved us."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you thought about what happens after all this, if we win?" He had, and he knew exactly what she was talking about. "What are the chances that you can get everything you want? That we're together in whatever comes next, or even know each other?" Once he got ahold of the Infinity Stones, he'd try to remake the world into one less horrible. He hoped he could have everything, a world where both the wizards and the Avengers existed, and one that wasn't gripped in a generation's long war. But he could only hope, and he wondered what choices he might be forced to make if he couldn't have his cake and eat it too.
"I don't know." Harry said. "I just figured… if I lost you, well, sacrifices have to be made."
"And would you sacrifice Lily? T'Chone?" Wanda probed. Harry flinched. "If we're separated, they won't even exist. They won't even get to live."
"You know that I'd sacrifice anything for them. Maybe even things I shouldn't." The thought of forsaking them filled Harry with a deep revulsion. He genuinely didn't know if he could stomach making a world where they didn't exist. Maybe he wasn't so different from his mother after all. He'd die for his kids, yes, but what else would he do for them?
"You won't have to find out." Wanda told him. "I've bound us together. Our timelines can't be separated. If we make it through this, we'll do it together."
That was the catch, Harry realized. Wanda had linked them together, and they could use those ties to pull each other up to the surface… or drag them all down together. "If. Either we all end up together, or we're all gone."
"I won't live in a world without you in it." Wanda said. "I've seen what that's like, and I won't stand for it. Natasha and Ginny feel the same way. I won't let you go. I refuse." Harry shivered at her intensity, and she calmed herself. "And now I won't have to."
-----
The hug her dad gave her that morning set off alarm bells in Lily's head. They hugged every morning, of course, but he held her more tightly this morning and lingered for longer. "Dad, what's wrong?"
"Can't put anything past you." Her dad gave her a ghost of a smile. "It's time."
"It's time? You mean, for…" Lily trailed off.
The hug tightened for a moment, before her dad finally pulled back. Lily felt a chill. Despite everything, these past few months had been the best of her life. She had a family- her parents, T'Chone, and Septimius. She had friends now too, with Miles, Gwen, and Peter. She'd dreamed of this for so long, and now it was coming to an end. She knew that her dad couldn't promise her that it'd be alright, and that if he did it'd be a lie. Part of her wanted him to anyway.
Then he hugged T'Chone. Uncharacteristically, her brother burrowed into the hug, and Lily looked at the floor.
"Yes. It's time. I love you. Whatever happens… I love you." Her dad said, looking at each of them in turn.
"What can we do?" T'Chone asked.
Her dad's smile curled fondly. "Fight like hell." He turned to Septimius, who had hung back. Her dad brought him into a hug next. "And I'll fight for you."
-----
The dense forest suddenly gave way at the edge of the Black Lake. Cold wind whipped over the water and across Harry's face. He remembered how late autumn felt in Scotland. He remembered happily donning his Weasley sweater every year to ward off the cold, and clustering with Ron and Hermione by the common room fire. Those days felt so far away now. The Hogwarts Harry had seen was unrecognizable to his childhood home, and now even that was gone.
"Is this it?" Natasha asked.
Harry shook his head, pointing up the hill. "We're close, the castle would be up there."
"How important is it, that we're right next to the castle?" Nat pressed.
"We should be as physically close as possible." Hermione said. They scaled the hill, Harry leading the way. Behind him trailed his closest friends and teammates. Their armies were kept in reserve, but Harry had, perhaps selfishly, wanted his friends here for this. It might just be the last time he saw any of them, and he wanted this last memory of them, all going into this together.
Tony flew overhead, stopping in midair and gesturing uphill. "Found something, boss." He said over comms. "An odd pattern in the trees, looks like the castle left an imprint in the forest."
Emboldened, they pushed on. Harry was brought up short right at the tree line. He held his arm up. "What is it?" Ginny asked.
"Something feels…"
"Wrong." Wanda finished.
"Yeah." Harry said roughly. "It feels evil."
"Then we're at the right place." Nat surmised. "Steve?"
Steve held out a thick metal suitcase to Harry. He took it, laid it on the ground, and flipped it open. Tucked securely within was the Power Stone.
This really was it.
Wanda had proved that she could use her abilities to manifest Infinity Stones from people infused with their powers. She could create the Time Stone from him, Reality from him or any other witch of wizard, Space from Carol, and Mind from herself. With the addition of the Power Stone, all that remained was the Soul Stone.
All that remained was Voldemort.
With a tug from his magic, he lifted the Power Stone into the air. It pulsed, almost malevolently from being disturbed. He could feel the stone's magic, it felt eager to be used, almost too eager. Controlling the Power Stone would be like controlling Fiendfyre.
Harry was not looking forward to the prospect of marshalling all six of the stones, but that was a problem for… later today, hopefully. He flicked his fingers, sending the stone shooting to his staff. The gem fused seamlessly with Lævateinn's Uru metal, and for a moment it was like Harry, his staff, and the Power Stone were one. He could see how so many had been overwhelmed by the gem's power. Purple cracks flowed down the staff as the stone sought to unleash itself, but Harry pushed back, hard. He accepted that he might die today, but dying like this would be rather pathetic.
The stone submitted but remained a presence at the edge of Harry's mind. While he could appreciate its power, Harry wouldn't want to live like this. It was why he'd waited to do this until the last possible moment. With the stone subdued, Harry became aware of the world again. "I'm good." He said, hoping to sound reassuring. Hermione shot him a tremulous look, telling him he hadn't pulled it off. She knew better than anyone that the next step would be far harder for him.
His friends were clustered around him, forming a semi-circle that ended at the tree line. Harry sent one last look at them all. Ron, his first friend, and Neville. They'd both worked so hard to train up an army of witches and wizards, and Harry was reminded of how Neville had taken over the DA during Harry's year on the run. He looked to Hermione, the sister he'd never had. She'd worked day and night to help put together this plan, even though she'd dreaded the day that he'd have to use it. He found Luna, who had worked herself into a special place in Harry's heart bit by bit- first a new friend, then a trusted comrade, a cherished memory, and now a lover. Ginny met his eyes unflinchingly. Once, he'd left her behind to fight a war, but he wasn't a foolish teenager anymore, and neither was she.
Then he looked to the Avengers- his second found family. Tony, Steve, Thor, Clint, Bruce, and Natasha. Somehow, he'd found them all again. Somehow, they were joining with his first found family. He lingered wistfully on Nat. He never could have imagined what she would become to him, that lonely evening he'd met her in an El Paso bar. For a while, he thought that she'd be nothing more than a bitter ex-fling. That rocky start seemed so inconsequential now, knowing what she was to him, and what they'd done together. At the front with the original Avengers were Carol and Wanda- the two women most instrumental in their plan. Behind them was Skye, the woman who had made his love life possible and Shuri, who had crafted the suit he was now wearing. Rogue stood next to Luna, clad head to toe in a suit of Shuri's design.
He couldn't imagine a life without them, and now, thanks to Wanda, he wouldn't ever have to- for better or worse.
"Well." Harry said, his voice rough. "Wish me luck."
He closed his eyes, descending into his mind, deeper and deeper. He could feel the Power Stone, a chained beast that was merely biding its time, and the riddle shards of the Time Stone. For the moment, he ignored them, instead focusing on his scar, the link between him and Voldemort. He had put up layer after layer of Occlumency barriers against the soul link, but it hadn't been necessary. Harry hadn't felt a twinge from the dormant connection, not since that night that Voldemort had taken Hogwarts.
Harry aimed to give him far more than a twinge.
Hermione's spell was a modified version of the summoning charm. Just as she'd once coached him through that charm in preparation for facing a dragon, she'd coached him through this new spell.
"Arcesso. Aufer velum. Quid sublatus revelio. Homenum accio!" The Power Stone flared, and Harry channeled its magic focusing on the link between him and Voldemort. He pulled.
The plan was to summon Voldemort, draw him from wherever he'd hidden himself straight into an ambush. If all went well, he wouldn't even have time to respond before they'd done him in. Harry did not expect things to go according to plan, and as he pulled, he was proven right. It didn't feel like he was summoning a man, rather, it felt like an oil tanker was at the other end of the line. It took a monumental effort to get it to budge, but when it did, its movement was unstoppable.
"Something's coming." He managed seconds before impact.
Hogwarts arrived, and it arrived with a shockwave that threw Harry (and all of them, save Carol) back. Harry was assaulted by that sense of wrongness, now heavy in the air, like a slimy, smothering blanket. He gasped, but it felt like his lungs were drawing in sludge.
The plan had still worked, sort of, but he wasn't sure if that was a reason to celebrate. But they were already committed, and any doubts he had were irrelevant now. Harry pushed himself up, and let Carol help him to his feet. "The plan's the same." Harry said, watching his comrades as they righted themselves- far better than staring at the oddly still and silent castle. "We go in all at once, together, and take him out."
"Harry." Ginny said, her voice urgent. He whipped around. There was a door in the stone wall that had not been there before. At least, he was pretty sure it hadn't been there. He would have noted a door, he thought, but Harry couldn't honestly say he definitely remembered there being no door.
Then the door opened, and out shuffled Molly Weasley.
Harry's jaw dropped, while Ron wheezed as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Ginny let out a strangled "Mum?"
Molly stared at them distantly, before snapping into focus. "Ginny? Ron?" She gasped. "Oh. Oh!" She lurched for them. This was wrong, like some sort of horrible play. "And Harry, oh Harry, you've brought them back to me!" She shouldn't know him, not the Molly Weasley of this world. But she looked so very much like her, it was undeniable. He knew he was being affected by something, some sort of bewitching spell. He shook himself free, whatever this was, it was a threat.
Before he could act, however, he heard a gunshot, and Molly fell to the ground. He looked away, not wanting to see the effects of a point-blank gunshot to the head. Ginny choked on a sob. "Sorry." Nat said, in her professional voice. "She was certainly an imposter."
"You're right." Ginny told herself. "Its just Riddle, playing games with us."
"She looked so real, though." Ron said, dazed.
Harry, horribly, was beginning to suspect that Nat was wrong. After all, Voldemort had the Soul Stone, which had once been the core of the Resurrection Stone. He could very well raise the dead and twist them to suit his own purposes. He didn't voice his concern now, but the implications were horrifying.
He looked at the castle, and the door had vanished. Had it ever really been there? Of course it had, but he couldn't… quite… remember…
"An abomination." Harry tensed, adrenaline flooding his system as he whirled around again. He had hoped to resolve this quickly and quietly, but that was out the window. It wasn't a surprise that Death had noticed the arrival of Hogwarts. She still wore Hela's body, and with it she was glaring down at Molly Weasley's dead form in disgust. Her ghostly shadow flickered like a candle but made no aggressive moves…for the moment. "It's a shame that a mortal like him got his hands on the Soul Stone, but that is far more your fault than mine, isn't it Harry?"
Harry grit his teeth. As far as he was concerned Death was responsible for this entire situation. He wasn't going to argue the point, though. "Bollocks!" Ginny snapped. "If you hadn't taken him from us-"
Suddenly, Death was in front of her, her shadowy hand ghosting along Ginny's vibranium hand. "Perhaps I should finish the job." She grinned viciously. "It'd be so easy."
Ginny was pale, and looked terrified, but to her credit, she didn't back down. "Jealous?" She asked. Flames engulfed her, and Harry took her place, glaring Death down. Sod the plan.
Death smiled sickeningly at him. "Yes, this is much better, Harry." He faint hand grazed his arms, inciting a shiver. "Now why don't you be a good boy and…"
Something in Harry's mind opened at that moment. Oh Harry. Tom Riddle's voice slithered into his mind, pleased, as if he'd wanted this to happen. Along Hogwarts' walls an endless series of doors appeared, and in unison they swung ominously open. Thank you for coming to call. Why don't you come in?
Harry had pulled Riddle here, but the connection, as always, worked both ways. He was pulled, and with the massive, overwhelming weight on the other side he fell. The world, and the shocked faces of his friends, melted away.
Harry blinked, and he was in a Hogwarts corridor. While his surroundings were familiar, the oppressive dread hung even thicker in the air, a malevolence radiating from the walls. He took stock of himself- he still had his staff, and the suit Shuri had made for him was still intact. Welcome Harry. Voldemort's voice whispered through the halls. To me.
The knowledge that outside, his friends were likely fighting against Death drew him forward. Perhaps he could flame out and join them, but there was a cold calculus at work. The sooner he got the Soul Stone, the sooner this all would end. They could never defeat Death in a head to head battle, and if Death got to the stone first… it was over. Natasha had tried, fruitlessly, to drill this into him. Everyone was expendable now- everyone except for him, Wanda, and Carol.
Besides, they had planned for this possibility- that they'd be forced to fight Death without Harry. The Ancient One had a contingency in place, she'd told him, though she hadn't explained further.
He passed a portrait which he was sure had never existed in Hogwarts at any point, a painting of Riddle at seventeen. "What do you think?" He asked.
"I hate what you've done to the place." Harry wrinkled his nose. "Also, putting up pictures of yourself? I didn't think you were so vain." He needed a way to draw Riddle out. Should he taunt him? Show weakness? Offer him something? Wait for him to slip up? Harry hated to admit it, but Voldemort held all the cards, at least until he made his move.
"Of course the portraits are of me." Riddle said. "Everything here is me."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked as he moved on from the portrait. Down the next hall, another portrait, this time of Voldemort as Harry had known him, spoke.
"Your mind is so small, Harry." Voldemort sneered. "You have access to an Infinity Stone, endless power, and what do you do with it? Give your friends memories?" He scoffed. "I unlocked the full power of the Soul Stone."
"And damn the consequences." Harry muttered. There was a reason he hadn't abused the Time Stone. He knew what happened when the Infinity Stones were misused, this entire world was proof of it. "Are you here to fight me, or do you just want to chat all day?"
"Worried about your friends?" Voldemort said. "You should be."
Ginny flickered into existence in front of him, and Harry choked. "You…" Ginny spoke slowly, every word taking effort. "You… killed…me."
Dread and uncertainty were instantly replaced by rage. With a roar, he swung his staff against the wall. The staff impacted, blowing out the entire section. "How dare you!" Harry seethed. This was Ginny's worst nightmare, her soul trapped and at Tom Riddle's mercy. A hint of pain fluttered through Harry's link to Riddle, and he smirked. He could be hurt, after all. "Oh, did that hurt, eh?" Harry sneered. "I have much more in store for you." He'd tear this entire castle down, if he had to.
"So do I, Harry." Riddle said.
"This… is… your… fault." Ginny was on the floor now, though he hadn't actually hit her. She was struggling with all her might against Riddle and coming up short. Her words had no effect on him, it was obvious that they weren't hers. It was still psychological torture. He knew that she'd prefer death to this, to being used as Riddle's puppet, but he couldn't bring himself to kill her.
"It'll be okay Gin. I love you." Harry murmured, before stunning her. However this ended for her, Harry wouldn't let it be like this.
Harry began blasting through walls, through the floors, burning everything in sight. Voldemort did not oppose him, and Harry began to wonder if he was achieving anything at all. Despite leaving a trail of destruction wherever he went, whenever Harry looked behind him the halls were pristine. Perhaps he just needed more power.
The Power Stone was eager for an opportunity to let loose, it was time to give it what it wanted. Tapping into the gem, he slammed his staff to the floor. Purple energy erupted in a beam powerful enough to blow out the floor in all directions. Harry hung in the air while the beam carved down into the bowels of the castle. When he was satisfied, Harry silenced the Power Stone and let himself drop.
Floor after floor passed by, going faster and faster until they were a blur. It was endless, Harry realized. He could destroy corridor after corridor for the rest of his life and never make a dent. He needed more than raw power; he needed a strategy. The blur of the passing floors gave way to mist, and then the mist parted. Harry dropped from the ceiling of the Great Hall, landing in the center of the cavernous room.
It wasn't as he'd remembered it.
You really are sure that you're better than me. Voldemort said. Bodies were strung up, hanging from the misty ceiling by chains, blood dripping onto the tables and floor. I am a murderer, but I did not kill these people. Harry's eyes fixed to the front of the hall, where Dumbledore used to stand. Someone else stood there now.
No. They were killed by a woman you idolized as a saint. To save a boy that you now protect. Voldemort hissed insidiously, but his words were unneeded. Because he'd known Harry's weakness. He'd known that of all the dead, bringing her back would strike the deepest, break him the most. Because he didn't know how to feel about her, even now, and now he'd be forced to confront her again.
Because his mother stood in front of him, staring back at him with eyes oh so much like his.
Would you murder your own mother, hero?