When A Slaughterhouse Becomes A Home (selfcest/tomarry)

eighteen

Harry and Ron run down the hallways of Hogwarts with an obscure sense of foreboding. Harry got inside the Gryffidnor common room only to find them empty, likely all the students still in class, and he made his way in and out, stuffing the small, black journal holding Tom in his bag quickly. This was all without incident.

It is strange, muses Harry, that there are no Aurors on the scene, or at least some sort of a commotion. After all, Harry dueled a teacher, and everyone in the classroom saw him duel a teacher. Surely, someone must have been notified by now.

But despite this certainty... no one laid in their path.

Harry is explaining to Ron about the Potter situation while they run, and also the Tom situation, and Ron is looking like he's about to throw uo. "So you just made out with your older self? That's like incest! Self-cest!"

Harry laughed. "Grow up, Ron, it's not that gross."

Ron looks green. "I can't believe I just watched that."

"And I can't believe this is the part of my tale you're most concerned with -- Tom Riddle being back, me being immortal in the future, Potter wanting me dead. There's a million other things to be concerned about, regardless of my love life."

"Yeah, well, this is somehow easier to think about." He huffs as Harry's laughter. "You revived the Tom Riddle that tried to murder my sister -- we are going to talk about that later."

"But not right now?"

"Right now, we've got to save some lives." Ron ignores the fact that they just ended one. Umbridge's murder is more just than anything and her existence doesn't really count as a life, anyway. Ron will not sleep with her guilty on his conscience. Nor will Harry.

They reach the Headmaster's office and skitter to a stop. Harry and Ron share a look. "Do you know the password?" asks Ron.

Harry shrugs. "Let's just start naming candies and hope something clicks."

After three minutes of listing off candies Dumbledore may like with growing frustration, they finally get it with Ron's suggestion of "laffy taffy."

"That's a Muggle candy," Harry notes, as they mount the stairs to Dumbledore's office. "I didn't know you knew that."

"My dad's a fan," says Ron, sheepishly.

"Good ol' Arthur," mutters Harry, thinking of the dream with him getting bit. He grimaces and walks faster.

They stand before the door to Dumbledore's office. Harry's hand hovers over the door handle. He looks at Ron. "Are you ready?" he asks.

Ron nods. Behind them, so does Potter. Harry takes a depe breath.

And then he opens the door.

Dumbeldore is sitting in his desk, a pile of discarded laffy taffy wrappers on his desk. He swallows the food in his mouth, then says, "Welcome." His eyes twinkle. "The three of you, welcome."

Ron glances behind them, where Potter does not startle. "You can see me," states Potter.

"Of course I can see you, Mr. Harry."

Potter's face sours. "My name is Potter."

"What is it with Dark Lords and denying their true name? Next thing you know, young Harry here will be going by 'James.'"

Ron sits, confused, only getting one half of this conversation, but Harry, who can see Dumbledore as well as Potter, glowers. "I'm not a Dark Lord," he states. "And whether Potter is or not is irrelevant."

"You dueled Dolores Umbridge," he argues.

"Because Sirius is in danger." He steps forward, vulnerable. "Voldemort has him. Dolores wouldn't let me through. I did what I had to do."

"You killed her, didn't you?" Dumbledore says, without skipping a beat. To Harry's stunned silence, he grins without mirth, tilting his head to the side. "Miss Granger told me."

"Thanks Hermione," mutters Ron.

Dumbledore stands from his seat, brandishing his wand. "It seems too much of Voldemort's influence has infected you. No matter. This needs to be done sooner or later, and it seems its time has come sooner than necessary."

Harry points his wand at Dumbledore. "She was a monster," he spits. "And she deserved to die. I am not a Dark Lord for one measly murder."

"It is because you think so that this needs to happen."

"Sirius is in danger! Aren't you worried? Are you insane?" says Harry.

"Perhaps," says Dumbledore. "And perhaps I should be worried. But I will be looking into that after I deal with a more pressing matter -- you."

Harry stammers, feeling betrayed. "You're -- you're serious."

Dumbledore's gaze is dark. He does not want to do this. But he will do anything if he thinks he needs to. "Let us duel," he says.

Just as the first spell rings out, Tom appears from the diary, summoning a shield, where the spell slams into.

Ron looks faint.

"He will not die by your hands," states Tom. "I have a plan and Voldemort has a plan and it is in motion. You will let him pass."

"That's quite disheartening," says Harry. "Because I don't want to die by anyone's hands. But we can talk about that later." He grins. "Thanks, Tom, but I don't plan to die facing Voldemort. I don't plan to die by my own hands."

Dumbledore, Tom, and Potter all shoot Harry a dubious look.

Harry pops his knuckles. "Hold him off here. We'll sneak through the Floo here."

"Alright," says Tom, straightening his back, holding out his hands, which are sparking with magic.

"Alright," says Harry.

Harry stumbles through the Floo, with Potter and Ron following him, while Dumbledore duels Tom. Harry catches a glance of their fighting, and is impressed by the magic of it all. Tom is truly a worthy opponent and even if he's only helping Harry so that he can die in later circumstances, it's nice to have him on his team.

Ron is on guard, and his presence is warm at Harry's side. Potter holds his free hand. Together, they enter the Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries.

This is Harry's Army, and it is nothing like Dumbledore's.