Descent-- Sequel to Masquerade

20. Epilogue

  It's funny how so many years pass by and you still remember. Remember the deaths; remember the turmoil. Because life refuses to let you forget. Tom Riddle, for once, was truthful. People think they are cursed with death, I was cursed with life. Wasn't that why Grindelwald performed his experiments on me? Because I was different? Because I was descended from the one of the mythical creatures of old? I closed my eyes. My mother was given long life and youth, that was why she was made into a Horcrux. An optimal specimen. I suppose I didn't inherit any good luck from her.

I was no older than a middle aged woman, but my mind and heart was a verteran of impossible years. Harry Potter. The Chosen One.

"Make me feel the regret I never had," Tom's pleading as he placed the ring in my palm.

I had failed. Time and again.

I had outlived Tom Riddle. But then why did I still feel less than a corpse?

I walked around the grounds of Hogwarts, the aftermaths of the battle. The students were celebrating in the Great Hall, families mourning the dead bodies piled in the hall. All because of him. My heart squeezed a final time. All because of me. I looked at him. Perhaps it was for the best that he died here--the place that he loved the best.

I turned away quietly, walking towards the adjoining chamber. Voldemort's body was placed far away from the people killed by his cruelty. He was mutilated, his face like a mask of death and his body broken beyond the powers of healing. I wished I could have seen the smirking face of the boy I met at Hogwarts.

Just one time.

Please.

I crouched next to his corpse, my eyes calculating. "I warned you," I said, "I told you about the fate worse than death. Do you feel alive now, Tom Riddle? Did power satisfy you in the end?"

No reply.

I swallowed bitterly. "I should have known I shouldn't have loved you; I shouldn't have been so stupid. After all, you were still incapable of it in the end. Isn't that what you said? That there is only power and those too weak to seek it? In the end, what was I to you? I couldn't stop you from breaking your soul; I couldn't make you fix your ways. You are right, Tom Riddle, I was only a pawn to you. But you still lost the game."

I stood up, refusing to take a second glance. "If I ever loved you, Robins, remember it was only because I wanted to let you go," I recounted the phrase from all those damned years ago, "well, I am letting you go, Tom Riddle. And it was because I actually loved you. And I think you knew that all along, you bastard."

I wiped an unconscious tear from my face before making my way back, but I froze, seeing the boy who was standing there. Harry Potter. He was worn down, his untidy black hair and glasses making him look prominent.

He looked at me with those unnerving green eyes. This time, green against green.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he leaned against the wall, his eyes darkened, "he killed too many people."

My mouth unhinged. "He killed himself," I said quietly, "and I helped him."

"You loved him," Harry said, "there is a difference. You saved my life once, remember? When the Order was going to smuggle me out of my house-- you shot that spell at that Death-Eater."

I stiffened. "How did you know?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Oppugno. You shot a whole load of shrapnel at them."

I looked away. "It's my debt, not gratitude. You don't need to be so dramatic about it."

I hesitated. "I'm sorry," the words were lame on my tongue, "for everything."