Chapter Text
Harry Potter was dead.
Blood gushed out from his open neck, covering him in a beautiful ocean of vermilion. The moonlight overhead shined down on the malnourished pale boy; eyes empty and oh so very dead. Laying on the green damp grass, he finally achieved his wish; to be free.
After his last standing family was killed, Harry realised something. He was utterly alone, so utterly alone in this cruel cruel world.
Abused, betrayed, manipulated.
His whole life those where the things done to him. He had no freedom. Wasn't allowed to make his own choices. Forced into the pressure of being the 'Chosen One'. Used by those around him.
He never wanted that. He didn't want any of this to happen. He just wanted to live. Live a normal life. Was it really so hard to ask for?
After the realisation hit him that he could never have what he truly wanted in this life; he knew what had to be done. He ignored what he was taught to believe since birth. He ignored all the whispers. He ignored everyone. Especially Dumbledore.
He wanted nothing to do with any of these people, not after what he had been through. Not after what Dumbledore made him go through.
So he vowed to himself that he would do something he never imagined he could. He was going to make his own choice. Something he could never do before.
He chose freedom. And there was only one way to achieve this.
At 23:03 Harry's ink covered hand stopped. Quill lifted of the parchment. He stared and stared. Face so blank, emotionless. After minutes had passed he set the quill down on his bedside table. Slowly, so painfully slow he stood up. Folding the parchment, he carefully laid it down onto the red and gold pillows of his bed. Looking around, he could hear Ron's obnoxiously loud snores. Everyone was asleep. Moving towards the dorm door, he toke one last glance. Memories of his time in this place flooded his mind, hitting him with a sense of nausea and oh so disgusting nostalgia. Giving one last glance at his friends; he left without a second glance.
At 23:16 he arrived at the front of the kitchen doors. After years and years of sneaking around he knew how to get around without being caught. He entered the kitchen. He's been in here stealing food since the age of 11; he knew this place like the back of his hand. Walking over to the cabinets, opening it up he reached for the chefs knife. The steel heavy and cold in his trembling hand. Peering down at the piece of metal in his slender bony hand, face void of anything; just empty. After what felt like hours of staring Harry finally shows a glint of emotion.
A sick and twisted smile creeps onto his pale chapped lips. Those emerald eyes filling with despair and the tinniest hint of happiness; excitement.
At 23:21, Harry left the kitchens. He walked slowly in the shadows. Taking his time, strolled around his favourite places at Hogwarts. Reminiscing the good and the bad memories he spent at Hogwarts. It felt like forever until Harry was satisfied. Leaving the building grounds, he headed for the forbidden forest.
At 00:53, Harry found a nice peaceful opening in the forest. The moonlight flooded in between the trees, casting a beautiful glow down on the surrounding bellow. Harry especially looked ethereal. Those hazelnut strands of wavy curls, sticking out in every direction; uncontrollable. Skin glowing in the silver giving Harry an angel like appearance. Those enchanting green eyes; ones that resembled his mothers shone brightly with a clear expression of relief. Tilting his head up, Harry smiled, so cheerful and joyous, at the moon. Clasping his second hand around the handle, he moved it closer towards his neck.
"If only things could go differently."
In a blink of an eye, the knife slashed across Harry's neck. Blood gushed out, unstoppable. The knife dropped. Then Harry dropped. He laid under the moon, in the embrace of cold grass,chocking in a pool of his own blood. As he toke his final breath, a singular tear rolled down his face, until life disappeared from his eyes. He lay there dead. Staring lifelessly at the moon, with a gentle warm smile.
Finally free.
At 00:59, Harry Potter died. He ended his own life. Leaving no regrets behind.
At 06:03, a screech came from the Gryffindor boys dormitory. Ron was knelt on the floor, tears flowing from his eyes as he screamed his lungs out; clutching onto the letter Harry left. Soon the room filled: students and teachers. Ron screamed and screamed, unable to form coherent sentences.
At 06:14, Ron was put to sleep. Professor McGonagall, toke the letter and read what resided inside. After some time, a gentle gasp was heard. Everyone stared. Unable to peel their eyes away. Professor McGonagall went pale, with trembling hands she passed the letter over to Dumbledore. Silence filed the room. It felt like hours, until finally he spoke up.
"Harry Potter is dead."
Gasps and cries filed the room. A young girl, with bushy untamed and wild hair, stepped up; Hermione Granger. With a trembling hesitating voice she spoke up.
"What do you mean dead? That impossible!"
Looking blankly at her, Dumbledore passed her the parchment. Uncontrollably shaky hands reached out, grasping the paper. She looked down, registering the messy letters written; Harry's handwriting.
Dear who ever is first to read this,
If you are currently reading, then that means I have died. I have officially moved onto the afterlife. I sincerely apologise to those of you who have the displeasure of reading this, I'm truly sorry. For everything. Especially the pain this will bring you. I have decided to take my own life. This was my choice and mine alone. It was the first choice I have ever decided on my own. No one toke this choice for me. It was me and me alone. I crave freedom. Freedom from everything: Hogwarts, the pressure, the pain, from Voldemort, from myself.
After Sirius died, I realised that all of this, is total bullshit. Why is the whole wizarding world relying on a 15 year old child. How am i supposed to defeat a powerful Dark Lord who has lived longer and has more experience than me. It makes no sense. Im only a child. Never could make my own choices in life, always had them done for me. I suffered and suffered, by the hands of the Dursley's, by the hands of death eaters, students and even teachers. Ive suffered so much. Ive been manipulated my whole life. Told that I am the great 'Chosen One'. I don't even know what that crap means. IM ONLY 15! And somehow ive been through more than any adult could imagine.
I had enough of it all; the agonising pain that rose in my stomach every time someone whispered or looked in my direction. I never wanted to be famous. I just wanted a normal peaceful life. Was it really so hard to ask for something like that? Was it truly so impossible? I was never built for the light, I thrived in the shadows. It was always easier. I've planned this so well that I know that no one will be able to save me. I wanted it to be night time, so I could feel the breeze and look at the beautiful sliver moon one last time, and so that no one tried to interfere.
I dedicate this part to my dearest friends, Ron and Hermione. I'm sorry. But thank you for being by my side until the very end. Thank you for dealing with all my crap and being by my side when i needed you most. You two are the greatest of friends any one could ever ask for. And I'm so happy that i am that someone. That I can call you two my best friends. I hope you two find the happiness you deserve. Please don't forget me. You two are the best. Keep your heads up and smile. Look after each other, since I'm not no longer here for you. Also all my belonging that i have left behind, everything under my name, I want the two of you to split it evenly between you two. I will miss you two so very much. I love you guys.
To Dumbledore, fuck you. You made me suffer for so long. You could have handled these matters yourself, afterall you toke done Grindelwald, but somehow you cant take Voldemort down? Instead you put the burden onto me. A child. I hope you experience the pain and suffering I had to go through.
And also someone please let Remus know that I would have loved to have him as an uncle growing up. It would have been so amazing, being surrounded by my parents and their closest friends. Many good memories could have been formed.
My final wish is please bury me with my parents. It's about time we reunited as a whole family. I don't want us to be separated any longer.
You can find my body in the Forbidden Forest. There is a small clearing not too deep into it, where I have decided would be a pretty spot to finally rest.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter
As Hermione finished reading, she let out sobs. Tear stains covering the parchment. In a flash she dropped the parchment and ran. Ran as fast as she possibly could. Shouts came from behind her but she ignored it all. Only one thing on her mind, 'Its not true'. Those words spun and spun around her mind. She heard footsteps behind her. Looking back, everyone was running. Even Ron who had awoken.
Soon they found the clearing. Hermione and Ron paused. Gaping, they saw him. He laid there on the ground: unmoving, blood everywhere, eyes lifeless, cold, blank, a carefree gentle beautiful smile lingering on his lips as his dead eyes watched the sky. Not far from his hand lay a blood covered knife. Screams filed the air as Ron and Hermione ran towards their friend. Praying that this was some sick joke.
Instead they were met with a body lacking of warmth. No breathing. No heart beat.
That was the day Harry Potter died. He was finally free.
Or so he thought.
Fate had other plans. Fate decided to grant Harry's wish of having a normal life. But with a small twist to it.
Harry felt like he was floating. Engulfed in warmth. Which was weird because he was ment to be dead right now.
'Could this be the afterlife? No it cant be can it?'
Harry's thoughts started to spiral as he was unable to move. He couldn't do anything, so instead he accepted his fate and let himself float around. After a while, he felt as if he was being put down onto a solid surface. But he still had limited movement.
Suddenly a sharp cry echoed all around him. It took him some time to realise that the cry came from him. He felt different. Very different. Why was he crying? Where is he? He's ment to be dead so why isn't he?
A loud creaking noise could be heard over the crying. In front of him, were large doors opening. Steadily, a middle aged women emerged, face littered with forming wrinkles; especially around the space between her eyebrows. Face unkind. She looked down at Harry; frowning.
Harry's crying quietened. He gazed up at this stranger.
"Another one dropped off? Seriously?" The woman spoke up scowling down at him, tone annoyed and somewhat angry. She leans down, reaching for something. A small note.
Hi my name is Harry James Potter. I was born 31st July 1927.
Please look after my son.
The woman looked up from the note. Looking down at Harry, who was still very confused by what is going on.
"Hmm, you poor child. Abandoned on our doorstep. It will be alright Harry. We'll take care of you now." She reached forward, picking a small baby Harry up. Turning back around, she goes back inside the building. "Welcome to Wool's Orphanage Harry."
All that Harry could do was stare. He was beyond confused. Why was he a baby? What had happened? He just slit his own throat. He was laying in a pool of his own blood. So why? Why is he suddenly a baby? And more importantly.
Why was he at Wool's Orphanage? The place where Tom Marvolo Riddle spent his childhood. Where Voldemort lived during his school years.
Was he truly given a second chance at life? But why?
Multiple questions consumed his mind. None of this made any sense to him.
As Harry was distracted, the woman holding him entered a room. In the room were two young women, possibly in there mid 20s, so young and pretty. One of them, a woman of a short slender figure, seemed to be holding a baby in her arms as well. The other, a slightly taller individual, was holding the hand of a small child, around the age of 3.
"We have a new arrival. Poor child was left on our doorstep. He's only 2 months old." The woman holding Harry spoke up. "His name is Harry. Harry Potter."
The shorter woman walked forward towards them. Smiling, oh so bright and innocent. She looked at Harry then down at the child she was holding, her smile brightened.
"Hello Harry," her sickening sweet smile never faltered, "Look Tom, you have a new friend your age now."
The child she was holding was none other than the future Dark Lord Voldemort. The one Harry was destined to go against. And now he was here, with him, under the same roof. Harry didn't know how to feel. He felt anger, hatred, pain, all these different emotions engulfed him. But one singular thought stood out to him. This was his chance. His chance to change the future. His chance to have a better life and not worry about the burden of being the 'Chosen One'. Even though he didn't understand what was going on, he made a promise. A promise to himself. He was going to flip his life around. And finally experience a normal childhood and later make sure he has the best teen life ever. Experience things he never could before. No matter the ups and downs he was going to have t go through. This. This is better than he could have imagined.
He could finally have something for himself. His choices. His decisions. All made by him. He couldn't wish for anything better. This has been his dream ever since he had to spend his days in a musty cupboard under the stairs, going days without food or sunlight. His dream ever since he understood the fear of the outside world that brought no comfort to him, that hurt him. His dream ever since he realised that there was no end to his pain.
He spent years with the Dursley's, he was constantly abused by them. They were his first fear. The first time he feared something. He was scared of them. The dragging, and pulling of his hair. The hurtful words that cut deeper than any knife could ever. He was barely 10 years old when he first cut himself. The pain was horrible. So vivid. Unbearable. But soon it was followed by relief. Oh, sweet relief. The feeling that followed him after felt like nothing before. It was as if all the pain and suffering he had gone trough, just flowed out of him, as the small stream of blood travelled down his leg. The stinging stopped. And he felt better. Like never before.
Harry was barely 10, when he found comfort in harming himself. It was his way of escaping the reality he lived in. A way to get away from everything. To feel something other than suffering.
So even though this whole ordeal was strange and shocking to him, he saw hope for himself. For his future.
Incoherent noises came from Harry, as the small child, smiled so cheerfully; giggling. With his tiny, chubby soft hands, he reaches out towards the young woman. Towards the child in her arms. Towards Tom.
"Aww, look at you. So adorable." She cooed at him.
"He's so cute!" The small 3 year old girl squealed. She ran up to the older woman, who was holding him. "Hi there Harry! Oh he is so adorable." She was smiling. So wide.
"Be quiet. You will startle the babies. You don't want them all crying now do you?" The woman who was holding her hand, before she ran over here, spoke up. "Babies have sensitive hearing."
"Sorry Miss Russell."
"It is all right. You didn't know."
After that day, Harry became apart of Wool's Orphanage. Slowly the time passed and he grew up. The older woman who picked him up from the doorstep was the Matron, Mrs Cole. The two young women, were Miss Russell, the taller one and Miss Osborne, the shorter one, the main caretakers of children ranging from newborn to 5 years old. There was also Martha, she was also a caretaker, she toke care of the older ones and often was in charge of the sick. There was the ranging kitchen staff. There was the two handymen, Robert and Richard. There was the two other caretakers, Mrs Hill and Mrs Morgan. Both of them were around Mrs Cole's age.
Growing up in the orphanage wasn't amazing. It had some struggles. But by Harry's standards it was a thousand times better than living in the Dursley's house. He wasn't put in a cupboard. He got his own room. He wasn't starved by them. The meals weren't very good but it was better than he could ever ask for. The treatment wasn't ideal but anything was better than being dragged and pulled by the hair by Uncle Vernon, pushed around by Dudley, starved by Aunt Petunia. Insulted constantly by the Dursley's, everything was better than that.
Harry was now 4 years old. He just woke up. His bed wasn't comfortable, it was lumpy and not very soft; he didn't care, a bed is a bed. Slowly he got out, slipping on his slippers. Miss Osborne had left clothes on his nightstand the previous night. The clothes were plain, affordable. Grabbing them, he leaves his room, sprinting to get to the bathroom before anyone else.
As he finishes getting dressed and ready for the day, he looks in the mirror, at himself. Hair was sticking out in different direction, untamable. Harry tries to smooth it down, but it didn't do much for him. Giving himself one last look, he left.
As he walked down the corridor towards the dinning area he overheard someone shouting.
"NO LET GO! IT'S MINE! NOT YOURS!"
Harry turned left instead of going straight ahead. He kept walking down until he came up to someone's doorway.
"Give it to me!"
"No!"
Looking inside Harry saw Patrick Smith, another 4 year old. He was new, he's only been here for about 3 months. His parents passed away recently from what Harry overheard when he arrived. He was able to keep a lot of nice possessions when he got to the orphanage. He was grasping onto some toy really heard, tears streaming down his face. In front of Patrick was Tom.
Tom look angry. Very angry. Even now as a 4 year old. He was already scary. He stood in front of Patrick. Hands trying to grab the toy he was holding.
"I said give it to me. Now. I wont tell you a second time. I want it so i'll get it."
"But its not yours, it belongs to me. My parents gave me this."
"Well they aren't here anymore. They're dead!" Patrick's face visibly pales as Tom says that to him. While he's in shock, Tom grabs onto the toy and pushes Patrick down harshly onto the ground. "See? It wasn't so hard now was it?" Tom's face lights up with a grin; looking so proud of himself.
Patrick looks up at Tom with a horrified expression. Uncontrollable stream of tears rolling down his now rosy cheeks.
"It doesn't belong to you. Give it back." Harry spoke up as he entered the room. Tom's grin dropped, now replaces with a blank expression as he turns his head towards the other boy.
"No. It's mine now. And i don't want to give it back."
"Its not yours. If you don't give it back now, i'll tell Mrs Cole." Tom's face darkened. His black hair was so neat compared to Harry's, small curls swooped upwards near the front. Eyes dark, no light or emotion was seen. It was as if staring into some type of void. Trapped. Empty. Cold. Slowly, so painfully slow, Tom turned and started to stalk towards Harry.
"I. Won't. Do. That. Understood?" His head tilted slightly to the side. Instead of backing down, Harry stepped closer.
"You will give it back to him." Neither of them faltered. They stared at each other unblinking. Tom's brows inched together into a frown.
Suddenly, Harry was falling backward towards the ground. He got pushed. Tom had pushed him. As he hit the ground with a loud thud. He stared shocked.
He shot up and pushed Tom back. Tom, who didn't expect for Harry to do that, looked livid. Dropping the toy, he grabbed Harry by the collar, fist raised. In a blink of an eye, Tom's fist made contact with Harry's jaw. Due to the force of the punch, both of them came toppling down. Tom was now on top, actively throwing punches. Harry grabbed Tom's small fist and collar, using his feet he pushes Tom back. Getting on top of him, he drives his own punches at Tom. A constant back and forth consumed them, neither wanting to back down. Everything aside from them drowned out, both consumed by rage. Tom was now pushing Harry back, fist raised, ready to hit Harry. Glaring up at him, Harry notices the air change around them. It felt as if a Dementor had just sucked out all the happiness in the world. Gritting his teeth, Harry gets punched by Tom again. As it carried on, this time with loud shouting in the background, something was very different. Harry knew this feeling. The tingles that he felt, were the same when the glass disappeared at the snake enclosure allowing Dudley to fall inside. Magic.
Carrying to throw punches at each other, the air stilled. Glass on the window started to crack. A fire suddenly started not too far from their legs. A scream followed after that. A high pitch banshee screech. Harry was now on top, hitting Tom everywhere, no longer just the face. Kicking. Hair pulling. All sorts of violent acts. And Tom, he reciprocated it all back at Harry.
Suddenly, the glass shattered fully. Scattering everywhere. Including onto the two boys. Both of them stopped. Looking around the room it was in a horrible state. Glass everyway, something on fire, cracks in the walls. Tom looked down at Harry. Harry looked back up at Tom. Silently staring. Both in a horrible state. Lips and noses bleeding. Something flashed in Tom's eyes. Pure loathing towards Harry.
In a split second, Tom grabs the toy he wanted to take mere seconds ago. He raises it and smashes it onto the right side of Harry's face. And then a second time. And a third.
Harry's arms drop from holding onto Tom's collar. Gazing upwards. Harry's view was clouded by red. He couldn't see anything from his right eye. And his view from the left eye, was blurry. He had to squint to see the expression on Tom's face.
Tom gazed down at Harry, breathing hard; panting heavily. His face once again twisted into that same smirk like grin he had earlier. Eyes glazed in excitement and pleasure. He looked down at Harry with such a disturbing expression. For the first time since his rebirth, he felt scared. Fear consumed him. His breathing picked up. He couldn't breathe. He was being chocked by something lodged in his throat. Tom kept gazing down at Harry with that expression. Observing, noticing every change in Harry's expression. Every single detail. Every tinniest twitch or flinch. Tom noticed.
Everything after was a blur for Harry. He remembers Tom being pulled of him. Being picked up and carried away. But it was all so fuzzy. Time felt like it had stopped. Harry didn't snap out of it until after he was all bandaged up. Half his face covered in bandages. He had lost one of his teeth. Tom was near by, also all patched up now. Harry notices that he too was missing a tooth.
That day both of them got punished by Mrs Cole, who screamed for what felt like hours that such behaviour was not acceptable. There was more but Harry stopped listening. His thoughts raced and raced. His mind wouldn't calm down, he couldn't calm down.
That expression he saw haunted him; all day long. It was the only thing on his mind.
After a long period of time, his face healed and the bandages could be taken off. When they got taken off Harry frowned. His sight in his right eye was almost non existable. He could see but so badly that it was basically like he couldn't. His vision was bad before but now. Now it was different. Worse. He could see extremely indistinguishable outlines. It was only when he squinted very hard that those outlines toke less blurry shapes. When he was handed a mirror to look at the scar that was left behind, he let out a loud gasp. He had a lightning shaped scar before in his previous life, but this. This was different. It was like a lightning strike going down his face. Jagged, breaking into different lightning strikes. Some parts were purple, some pink, some white. Half his eye has a foggy white over it. The emerald still visible but foggy. While the other half of the emerald seemed to become even more vivid than before. This scar was scattered all over the right side of of his face, all connected to each other.
He stared and stared at himself so blankly. Those green eyes unable to be pulled away from the sight in front of them. Everything was so vivid.
Everything was Tom Marvolo Riddle's fault.