TW: Minor to moderate gore
-December 7, 1991-
It's been three days since Little One was taken from him again, and Voldemort could physically feel Little One slipping. The tether that tied Voldemort's magic to Little One was getting weaker with each day that passed. Little One needed more magic and soon, and Voldemort was no closer to finding his son than he was three days ago. He paced around the common room of his castle with agitation, ignoring the light breeze from outside that was drifting in from the destroyed west wing that Voldemort had not fixed yet.
"We will find him---"
"You shut up." Voldemort snapped, whirling around to glare at Death. Today he was wearing a twenty-year-old girl with platinum blonde hair cut in a pixie cut. His eyes were a dark hazel, but the signature cheekbones were there, as they always seemed to be no matter what body Death wore. "You don't get to talk. You knew that something was going to happen and you didn't warn me!"
"I couldn't interfere," Death said, his voice twisted with remorse. "I begged my Dear Sister to stop it, but it was already in motion. There was nothing I could do!"
Voldemort just scoffed, turning around to continue his mad pacing. Little One is missing, none of his spies know where he is, no one has reported back with any information and Dumbledore is gone. There are no leads and Voldemort has no idea what to do. He was going insane and he couldn't think properly. In a fit of rage, Voldemort lifted a random book off the shelf and threw it across the room, listening for the satisfying smash as it collided with the wall.
"What is she planning?" Voldemort asked, glancing back at his rueful lover. Death lifted his head when Voldemort addressed him. "Your sister. What did she plan to happen to my son?"
Death only shook his head, his blonde hair flying into his face. "You know I can't---"
"Can't say anything! I got it! What use are you, then?" Voldemort snarled. "My son is gone! He could be anywhere! I can feel him slipping, don't you understand? He's slipping! There isn't much time---"
Voldemort froze as his wards pinged all around him. He whipped his head to the side, his crimson eyes narrowing for a second before he darted to the side, tackling Death to the ground just as the wall exploded in on itself. The dust and rubble rained down on them for a few seconds before Voldemort stood, brushing the debris off his shoulders, and looked up to see what had caused the attack.
Voldemort's face twisted into an ugly sneer full of hatred at the sight of Dumbledore casually walking on his land. "You!" he snarled, throwing a curse in his direction. Dumbledore nonchalantly side-stepped the curse. "How dare you! I let you live and this is how you repay me?!"
"The time has come to end your reign of terror, Tom," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling with delight. "With you gone, England can finally heal from the scars of Dark Magic."
"Where is my son?!" Voldemort screamed, racing towards the man with rage, a cutting curse leaving his wand.
There was a loud boom as Voldemort's overpowered curse hit Dumbledore's quickly erected shield. The impact caused both Dumbledore and Voldemort to stagger back, wind whipping past their faces. "Without you, Harry will finally have his real family." Dumbledore said, brandishing his wand. Beside him, Voldemort could hear Death breathe in a sharp breath, but Voldemort didn't acknowledge him.
"I am his real family!" Voldemort snarled, sending hex after hex towards the shield, each hit weakening it. Just as the shield broke and Voldemort lunged forward to attack, Dumbledore dodged, a spell of his own shooting forward.
Voldemort, being in no position to dodge, let the spell hit him, a small grunt escaping his grit teeth when the cutting curse hit his leg. Ignoring the flash of pain, Voldemort whirls around, throwing his leg under Dumbledore's and causing the old man to crash to the ground. Despite how much Voldemort hated his upbringing, he would never regret learning muggle methods of fighting because Wizards had no idea how to defend against them.
"You are his kidnapper!" Dumbledore retorted, apparating a few feet away from Voldemort just as Voldemort fired a killing curse. The green curse hit the ground where Dumbledore's head had been only a few seconds earlier, leaving an ugly scorch mark in the middle of the grass. "You stole him from his loving family!"
"His loving family murdered him without hesitation!" Voldemort screamed, dodging another spell as it hurtled past his face. "Those monsters killed my child! You're the one who left him with them!"
"Did they?" Dumbledore asked, using a spell to throw some of the rubble at Voldemort's head. "Or did you? How did Harry really die that night?"
Voldemort dropped to the ground as the rubble soared over his head. His eyes were wide as he forced himself to focus on the fight and not the night that his precious child was slaughtered. With a wordless screech of rage, Voldemort summoned all the shards of glass from around his castle and hurled them at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore dodged as much of the shards as he could, but several shards managed to hit him, embedding themselves in his skin. With blood trailing down his face and arms, Dumbledore cast a barrage of different spells towards Voldemort, and Voldemort recognized one of them as the killing curse.
Voldemort stepped out of the path of the killing curse in favor of hitting a hex that caused his knees to buckle. In the time it took Voldemort to regain his footing, Dumbledore had inched close enough to throw a cutting curse that hit its mark in Voldemort's back.
"Everything I do," Dumbledore said as Voldemort rolled out of the way of another green curse. "I do for the Greater Good! I will rescue this world from your tyranny!"
"What are you even talking about?!" Voldemort demanded, kicking Dumbledore in the shin to knock him back. When Dumbledore kneeled over for an instance, Voldemort shot up, ignoring the flames of agony in his back, and cast a killing curse. Too slow. Dumbledore apparated once again, managing to miss the killing curse by a millimeter as he reappeared a meter away from him. "What tyranny?!"
"You wish to corrupt this world with Dark Magic," Dumbledore huffed, wiping the blood that has fallen into his eyes. "I see what you are, Tom Riddle!"
"You are a true hypocrite," Voldemort laughed, summoning a sword. "You speak of corruption but ignore your own wrongdoings. You kidnapped a child from his father, and for what? To fight against a foe that exists only in your head?"
"You are not Harry Potter's father!" Dumbledore said, and the response sent a wave of rage through Voldemort's body. "You murdered that child, admit it! You killed him and brought him back as a weapon!"
Dumbledore's conclusion was so far off, Voldemort had to laugh. But even as he laughed at the stupidity of Dumbledore's assumption, a traitorous voice in the back of his head reminded Voldemort of the night. Voldemort viciously shook his head, throwing the traitorous thought out of his head.
"You cannot defeat him with a wand," came Death's voice from across the clearing. Voldemort had completely forgotten that Death was there. Voldemort slowly nodded his head so that Death knew he heard him. "You must fight him in a different way."
"Admit it, Tom," Dumbledore continued, bringing Voldemort's attention back to him. "Why did you really bring Harry Potter back? Did you think I would hesitate because he was Lily and James' boy?"
Voldemort snarled. "He's my boy!"
With a loud crack, Voldemort apparated to Dumbledore's side, using the man's surprise to swing the sword at his gut. Dumbledore narrowly dodged the weapon, the tip of the sword slicing through the flesh of his side and drawing a small amount of blood. Dumbledore grunted in pain and Voldemort once again swung, this time pulling the sword down on Dumbledore's head.
Dumbledore let out a cry of pain as the sword sliced through his ear, the appendage falling to the ground with a spurt of blood. Dumbledore apparated away from him, but the moment Dumbledore appeared, Voldemort apparated next to him, another swing of his sword following soon after.
A series of cracks echoed across the clearing as the dueling pair apparated again and again. Dumbledore, finally catching on to Voldemort's strategy, stuck to his ground and threw up a shield powerful enough to send Voldemort flying back when his sword hit it.
"I thought muggle weapons were beneath you?" Dumbledore asked, his hand clutching the shoulder that Voldemort had managed to clip with his sword. "If you think you can defeat me with a sword, Tom, you are sorely mistaken."
"Your pride will be your downfall, old man." Voldemort snapped.
Dumbledore grinned. "Funny," he said, dropping his shield. "I was about to say the same to you!"
Voldemort lunged forward, using magic to push his body up into the air, using the momentum to swing the sword and bring it down on Dumbledore with a force hard enough to create an explosion of dirt and dust. When the debris finally cleared, instead of Dumbledore's corpse, Voldemort was greeted with the sight of his sword pushing against Dumbledore's.
"You are not the only one capable of using weaponry." Dumbledore said with a smirk. Voldemort snarled wordlessly and ripped his sword away, swinging low to hit Dumbledore's knees. The sound of metal colliding with metal filled the clearing as the pair dueled.
Voldemort hissed when Dumbledore's sword nicked his face, a thin line of red spreading from his eyebrow to his chin. With his sword pushing against Dumbledore's at the old man's neck, Voldemort used his wand and fired a killing curse under the swords.
Dumbledore, somehow knowing what Voldemort planned, dropped his sword in the last instance, ducking against Voldemort's swing and apparating across the field just as Voldemort's green curse fired. Instead of hitting its desired mark, the killing curse slammed into a tree with enough force to send the tree flying.
"Surrender, Tom," Dumbledore said. "Surrender now and make it easier on yourself. It doesn't have to end in bloodshed."
"Or," Voldemort snapped, spitting a bit of blood out of his mouth. "You can tell me where my son is and I'll kill you quickly."
"Why do you insist on keeping up this charade?" Dumbledore asked, shaking his head. "I already know you killed Harry. I already know he is nothing but a weapon to you."
"He's my son!" Voldemort hissed.
"He is your victim---"
"HE IS MY SON AND I LOVE HIM! YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME! GIVE HIM BACK!" Voldemort screamed, the pure, unadulterated rage made his mind blank for a moment as he charred towards Dumbledore, his sword raised high with the intention of cutting his head clean off.
"You don't know the definition of love," Dumbledore said, stepping to the side to avoid Voldemort's attack. The momentum caused Voldemort to crash to the ground, barely giving him enough time to roll over and bring his sword up to block Dumbledore's swing. "After you killed Harry Potter you brought him back to life to become your secret weapon. I know the truth."
"You know NOTHING!" Voldemort snarled, kicking Dumbledore in the ribs and using the old man's distraction to stand up, stepping onto Dumbledore's sword and pointing his own sword at Dumbledore's neck. "You know nothing about me or my son!"
"Don't I?" Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow.
In Voldemort's rage, he missed Dumbledore reaching for his wand. Voldemort screeched as an unknown spell hit him directly in the chest.
---the muggle was holding Harry by the throat and his son was dying, dying, dying, and Voldemort saw red---
---Voldemort tore his precious child out of the muggle's grip and tossed him out of the way so that Voldemort could destroy the man who hurt his son---
---the view was changing, and Voldemort was no longer cursing the muggle, but watching himself fight against his uncle. He was no longer Voldemort he was Harry---
---He was flying in the air as Papa grabbed him, and Harry couldn't breathe as Papa fought Uncle Vernon---
---He was in so much pain as he hit Aunt Petunia's fine china. Papa was still fighting Uncle Vernon but Harry's neck felt warm and sticky. With a trembling hand, Harry touched his neck and felt Aunt Petunia's plate embedded in his flesh---
---He tried to speak and call out for Papa but it hurt too much. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and Harry was so dizzy. Maybe he should close his eyes for a second... He could call from Papa in a minute...---
---He slowly opened his eyes one last time to see Papa screaming at Aunt Petunia, but he was so tired and the pain was slowly going away. Harry closed his eyes and finally went to sleep---
Voldemort gasped violently, shuddering as he returned to the present. He was hunched in on himself on the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he shuddered against the memories.
"What did you do?" he asked, his voice hoarse as the memories of Harry's---Little One's death flashed through his mind on repeat. He could feel it. He did feel it. He felt Little One's death like he was Little One, saw it through his own eyes.
"I showed you the truth," Dumbledore said. Dumbledore stood above him, his blue eyes full of pity as he pointed his wand at Voldemort. "This spell allows you to see the truth that you desperately try to hide from yourself."
"No..." Voldemort whispered, his eyes wide with horror.
Harry was flying through the air...
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "You know it's true."
Harry hitting the china shelf, the shards embedding themselves in Harry's abused flesh.
"I... I killed him?" Voldemort asked, his eyes blank as he refused to process the information.
Harry flying through the air. Harry hitting the shelf. Harry flying through the air.
"You killed him." Dumbledore nodded.
Voldemort throwing Harry into the china shelf.
"I killed my son?" Voldemort repeated, and finally, the waves of grief tore through him. The pain he felt when Little One was taken from him was like a soft bed compared to this. The pain of creating his first Horcrux was like a walk in the park compared to this. The pain of being a lonely orphan, unwanted in the middle of a war was like a breath of fresh air compared to this.
Voldemort killed Little One, not the muggles.
"With you gone," Dumbledore continued. "The world will be free and Harry can finally return to his family. He will finally be at peace."
Voldemort frowned as he registered Dumbledore's words. At peace? With his family? "What?" Voldemort asked, lifting his head. "What are you saying?"
"I think it's time to finally put Harry to rest, don't you?" Dumbledore asked. Realization broke through the agony that Voldemort was feeling. Dumbledore intends to kill Voldemort and then kill Little One.
Dumbledore wanted to kill Little One.
"Any last words, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head as he looked down upon Voldemort's balled up figure.
"Yeah," Voldemort snarled, the rage that he had been suppressing boiling up inside him. Voldemort may have killed Little One, but it was never intentional. Little One was his precious son and Dumbledore was a threat. "You never should have touched my son!"
With a scream, all the rage and grief and pain that Voldemort felt exploded out of him in a wandless killing curse. The impact sent Dumbledore flying, a large explosion of dust flying up into the air when he hit the ground.
It was silent for a moment as Voldemort forced himself to stand, the ache of his injuries becoming apparent. Death was at his side then, a proud glint in his eyes as he presented Voldemort with Dumbledore's wand. "I knew you could do it." he whispered. Voldemort just hobbled over to where Dumbledore's body lay.
Dumbledore was dead.
Voldemort slowly took the wand from Death, a powerful surge flowing through his body the moment his fingers closed around the wand. He held it up to the light and shook his head. "The Elder wand?"
"Of course," Death said with a grin. "Congratulations, you have become it's master."
"Dumbledore is finally gone," Voldemort said softly. "He can't hurt my family anymore."
"There's only one thing left to do." Death said with a smile. Voldemort's face hardened into a determined glare.
"Find our son."