Deception

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"No... No... NO!" Harry banged his fists down on the sink, not daring to raise his head. He couldn't even look at himself in the eye. He had failed. Being so caught up in his selfish feelings for Tom turned out sour in the end. He had dropped his guard and forgotten about the reason he was here. Voldemort needed to be stopped, but this only felt like encouragement. Turning a cheek even when Tom was doing something suspicious. Missing dinners, supposedly studying. It was all a ruse.

Now Hagrid was the one paying for it. The boy had found out this morning, three days after the incident, after ten more muggleborns had been murdered, that Rubeus Hagrid had taken the fall for all the attacks. It was all Harry's fault.

Now that he'd ran away from all of his problems, refusing to confront Tom, too scared of his own feelings being hurt in the end. Harry was selfish. Because of that, he changed nothing.

Allowing his fingernails to dig deep in his scalp, he let out a helpless sob. Because even now, after all that happened he is too scared to talk to the boy. Riddle may not be very fond in his heart anymore, but he just frightened him. Harry couldn't feel anymore love in his heart. All he felt was pain, and the ominous ambiance that nothing will change.

Harry gritted his teeth, jaw tensing. Dumbledore sent him on this mission to save the future. To save the people Tom Riddle wronged. All Harry managed to complete was watch as the regular timeline set into motion. Only, it was set one year prior to how it happened originally.

Maybe time just couldn't be changed naturally. No, if Harry wanted anything to change he would have to do it the way he should've done it in the first place. The only question is, did he have the guts?

Tom has wronged him in the future. More than anyone else probably ever could've done. That doesn't change the fact that Tom here... Tom now... He doesn't even know any of the stuff he will do. He doesn't know any of the stuff he will become. Dumbledore sent Harry back to this year because this is the year before Tom completely lost control of any side of him that could be good.

Obviously Dumbledore was wrong. Tom was never good. Even after trying to convince him the good in muggleborns, the good in himself, he reverts back to how he was in the natural time. The only difference is that Harry was here to stop him. If only he had the strength.

Raising his head slightly, he let his tear struck eyes stare back at him. Studying every inch of his face, he saw a certain familiar sadness. Like when Cedric died, or Sirius, or Dumbledore. Tom Riddle has destroyed one other person in Harry's life that he cared about. He destroyed himself.

Taking the life of another. Harry deemed that as irreversible. There was no saving Tom. He fell back on his feet a little, standing up straight. Wiping away the tears he looked around where he was. Their bathroom. The countless times they've come in here to escape, just to be with each other. Harry needed to get out.

Returning to the hallways, he shook his head, taking in a deep breath to clear his sinuses. Harry wasn't the person for this job. He had too much emotional connection. That made it dangerous. He thought back to Dumbledore's letter, having every line memorized due to the countless sleepless nights. One line in particular had his attention. When you are ready to go home, you must breath directly onto the paper and the directions will reveal themselves to you.

Was he ready to go home? Not quite yet. But he only needed one day for this plan to work. As much as his mind, body and heart begged him not to, Harry must do what he most dreaded. He needs to finish the job another way. Gripping his wand in his robes, he headed towards the dorms, ready to pack himself up for the trip he's about to endure.

Dumbledore's words were precise. If Tom showed no signs of changing, Harry must end him. It was the only way.

Walking up the steps of the Slytherin stairs, Harry held his breath, entering his room. Looking around he could list all of things he would miss about this place on one hand. No part of being in this house settled nicely with him. As terribly as this sounded, he greatly missed Gryffindor. The oceans of red, the familiar faces, the welcoming atmosphere.

The Lonely River of Time ~TomarryWhere stories live. Discover now