Chapter 99: The Weight Of Immortality
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own only the original characters I create.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 99: The Weight Of Immortality
Harry followed Tom through corridors he had never seen before.
The headquarters of the Knights of Walpurgis was a sprawling complex, carved into the bedrock of the island over centuries.
Harry had explored much of it during his time here...the training rooms, the library, the living quarters, the war chamber where they had planned their missions.
But these corridors were different.
They were older. The stone walls were rougher here, untouched by the smoothing charms that had refined the rest of the facility. The torches that lit their way burned with a dimmer flame, creating a heavy atmosphere.
Harry's footsteps broke the silence and formed a steady counterpoint to the soft rustle of Tom's robes ahead of him.
He wanted to ask where they were going, but something about the circumstances made him hold his tongue. This was not a place for idle questions. He would get his answers soon enough.
Tom glanced back at him, and in the dim light, his face looked younger than it had in years.
"Curious, Harry?" Tom asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"A bit," Harry admitted. "I thought we were going to your study."
"All in good time." Tom turned down another corridor, this one sloping downward at a gentle angle. "We are almost there."
They walked in silence for several more minutes, descending deeper into the earth. The torches grew sparser, the shadows longer. Harry felt the weight of the stone above him. He had never been claustrophobic, but there was something about this place...this deep, dark place, that made his heart beat faster.
You're being ridiculous, he told himself. You've faced worse than a dark corridor.
But the feeling persisted.
They stopped before what looked like a solid stone wall.
Harry studied it, his eyes tracing the rough surface. There was no door, no handle, no indication that this wall was anything other than what it appeared to be. But he knew better than to question it, as he knew the kind of things that could be done with enough mastery over magical arrays.
Tom placed the palm of his hand on one specific stone...a stone that looked no different from any other, and Harry felt a pulse of magic ripple through the air. The wall shimmered, and a door appeared, its edges glowing with a faint, blue-white light.
"After you," Tom said, pushing the door open.
Harry stepped inside.
The room beyond was unlike anything he had seen in the headquarters. It was ancient...older than the rest of the facility, older perhaps than the island itself. The walls were raw stone, unadorned and unpolished, and there were no windows, no decorations, no furniture.
Two torches mounted on either side of the chamber provided just enough light to see by.
At the center of the room stood an altar...a simple block of black stone, worn smooth by centuries of use. And on that altar, arranged in a neat row, were three small objects.
"When you first saw me here at the headquarters of the Order," Tom said, his voice soft in the stillness, "you asked me how I could be alive after being consumed by the fire."
Harry nodded, not trusting his voice. He remembered that day...the day he had freed Tom from Dumbledore's laboratory, the day he had seen the man who should have been Voldemort become consumed in a fire of his own creation, along with Dumbledore's entire laboratory.
Escaping should have been impossible, and yet, a year later he met him here, in this facility, alive and looking younger than before.
"I didn't explain things properly back then." Tom walked to the altar, his fingers hovering just above the objects. "I didn't go into details because I didn't think you would understand."
"And now?"
"Now I think you are ready." Tom turned to face him, his dark eyes unreadable. "Harry, let me ask you one thing. Do you know what a Horcrux is?"
Harry's mouth went dry.
He did know. He knew better than almost anyone. In his previous life...the life he never spoke of, the life he had left behind, he had learned everything from the books. He had learned how Voldemort had torn his soul apart, creating anchors that kept him tethered to the mortal world. He had learned how those anchors had been destroyed, one by one, until the Dark Lord was finally mortal again.
But this was not his previous life. This was not the world of the books.
And Tom Riddle, this Tom Riddle, was not the monster he had been in another story.
"I've heard the term," Harry said carefully. "They're objects that contain a piece of a wizard's soul. Created through... terrible acts."
"Through murder," Tom said bluntly. "Yes. The ultimate act of evil. To tear one's soul apart, to shatter the very essence of who you are, and to bind that fragment to an object...it is a violation of nature itself."
Harry's eyes went to the three objects on the altar.
A ring, set with a black stone that seemed to swallow the light.
A locket, intricately carved with the symbol of a serpent.
And a thimble...a simple, unassuming thimble, tarnished with age.
"Are those...?"
"Indeed." Tom's voice was calm, almost detached. "Those are mine."
Harry felt the world tilt around him. He had suspected...of course he had suspected. How else could Tom have survived the fire? How else could he have returned from death? The Horcruxes were the only explanation. The only way.
But to hear it confirmed...to see them, here, in this ancient room, was something else entirely.
"I see you understand," Tom said, watching Harry's face.
"You killed people." Harry's voice was steady, but inside, his mind was racing. "To create these."
"I did. But I never killed someone I considered innocent." Tom's voice sharpened. "I killed those who deserved it. Followers of Dumbledore. Those who had tortured and murdered and destroyed without remorse. I did not take a single life that was not already stained with blood."
Harry was quiet for a long moment, processing this.
"You think less of me now," Tom said. It wasn't a question.
"No, I dont. I can't judge you for doing what you thought was necessary." Harry's voice was firm. "We're fighting a war. A war that we didn't start, a war that we can't afford to lose. And in war... people do things. Terrible things. Things they never imagined they would do."
"I wish that weren't true," Tom said quietly. "I wish that I could have found another way. But I was desperate to win. I wanted to finish what I had started, and I was too afraid of dying before finishing my job. And so I made these to protect my life."
He gestured to the three objects on the altar.
"The ring belonged to my grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt. A nice man who raised me and unfortunately died in Azkaban after being convicted of a crime he did not commit.
The locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. I found it by chance during my time at Hogwarts and kept it for myself.
And the thimble..."
Tom paused, his voice catching.
"The thimble belonged to my mother. Or so I was told. A small, insignificant thing...the only possession she had when she died. I never knew her. Never saw her face. But this thimble was hers, and I felt... connected to it. So I chose it."
Harry looked at the thimble...so small, so ordinary. It was hard to believe that a piece of a soul could fit inside something so tiny.
"The size of the object doesn't matter," Tom said, as if reading his thoughts. "The soul doesn't take up physical space. It's a... presence. A weight that cannot be measured in inches or ounces."
Harry looked at the three objects again. They seemed so ordinary, so unremarkable. And yet, according to Tom, each one had once contained a piece of a human soul.
"These three pieces are all I could manage," Tom continued, his voice tinged with something that might have been regret. "And even then... they turned out to be failures."
"Failures?" Harry's eyes went from Tom to the three objects on the altar.
Tom smiled. "Can you feel anything on them?" he asked. "Anything at all?"
Harry reached out with his magical senses, searching for any trace of the dark magic that should have been emanating from a Horcrux. He found nothing. The objects were inert.
"No," he admitted. "I can't feel anything."
"That's because they're empty," Tom said. "The soul fragments are gone."
Harry's brow furrowed. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
Tom's voice was heavy with a sorrow that Harry couldn't quite understand. "I have died three times. Three times, my loyal followers brought me back. But with each return... the fragment inside the Horcrux dissipated. Vanished. The object became ordinary, mundane, useless."
Harry stared at him, the implications sinking in slowly. "So these Horcruxes... they're spent? They can't bring you back anymore?"
"No." Tom shook his head. "They are shells. Empty vessels. The soul fragments that once resided within them have been consumed by the act of resurrection. In the books I found, there is no mention of this phenomenon, but I am certain it wasn't supposed to work this way. Thus... they were failures. The reason for this still eludes me to this day. Perhaps I just dont have affinity with this type of magic, or there is something I'm missing."
Harry was quiet for a long moment, processing this. So Tom had no more Horcruxes. If he died, that would be it. No more resurrections. No more second chances.
"Can't you make more?" Harry asked.
Tom shook his head. "Impossible. Each soul has a limit, and apparently, this is mine. I have torn my soul as far as it will go. There is nothing left to shatter."
Harry looked at the three objects again...the remnants of a broken soul, now nothing more than relics of a desperate past. He thought about what it meant to be mortal, to know that death was permanent, to understand that there were no more anchors to hold you to the world.
"Does everyone know about this?" Harry asked. "The other members, I mean."
Tom sighed. "My inner circle knows about the existence of the Horcruxes and my resurrections. Only three members know about this room in particular and what it contains. And you, Harry, are the only one who knows I am no longer immortal. You are the only one who knows about my failure."
"Why?" Harry's voice was soft. "Why tell me all of this?"
"Because... if something happens to me during this next mission, I want you to finish the mission. Lead the remaining Knights of Walpurgis and rid the world of its plague. The one that Albus Dumbledore represents."
Harry felt the weight of those words settle on his shoulders.
"You want me to take your place," Harry said.
"I want you to carry on my work." Tom stepped closer, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You are the Chosen One, Harry. The prophecy speaks of you. You are the one who will unmake the tyrant."
"But the prophecy..." Harry hesitated. "I thought you had one too. Bellatrix mentioned it. She called you the 'Boy of the Prophecy'."
Tom was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded.
"I do," he said. "It was given to me a long time ago, when I was a naive boy who didn't understand a thing. But now I do. Now I understand its significance."
"What does it say?"
Tom looked at him with an expression he could not read. "I cannot share it with you, Harry."
"Why not?" Harry's voice sharpened. "I thought you trusted me."
"I do trust you." Tom's voice was gentle. "I trust you with everything, Harry. Everything...everything except for this. You will understand one day."
Harry wanted to argue, wanted to demand answers. But something in Tom's expression stopped him.
"Alright," Harry said finally. "I'll trust you. Even if I don't understand."
Tom smiled again. "Thank you," he said. "That means more than you know."
They stood in silence for a long moment, the two of them alone in that ancient room, surrounded by the remnants of a broken soul.
Harry thought about mortality...about what it meant to live, to die, to sacrifice. He thought about the Dursleys, who had loved him and been murdered for it. He thought about Pansy, whose mind had been shattered and rebuilt.
So much death. So much loss.
And yet, here they were, still fighting.
"Are you going to tell the others about this?" Harry asked.
"No, I dont think I will," Tom responded.
"Why not?. Dont they deserve to know?"
"Because," Said Tom. "They all view me as this nearly invincible figure. This powerful wizard they can all stand behind and feel safe. I need to continue being that figure for them...so they can fight at their best. If they knew I was no more invincible than any of them...things may change."
"Oh..." Harry understood this much. Having a leader one can look up to can inspire people to become more courageous.
"Can I count on you to keep the secret?" Tom asked.
Harry nodded. "I won't let you down."
Tom smiled proudly. "I know."
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