Give the World

Prologue

Faeyth McGuffian
August 13, 1926 - May 2, 1944
Age 18
Daughter, Love
Rest in Peace
You will forever be in our hearts.

She was all he had left of humanity, he realized. But it was too late. She has been dead for over forty years now and there is no way to bring her back. He had even tried to...many years ago. He can still see the way she would brush her unruly hair out of her face. He can still see the ambitious, mischievous gleam in her bright eyes. He can still hear her laugh and see her looking back and grinning at him, a challenge in her eye. He can still smell her intoxicating perfume: vanilla, parchment, and lilacs, her favorite.

But when she died, so did he. It is his fault she is gone. There is no one to blame but himself. Now it is his time, and if there is an afterlife, she would be ashamed to say she ever cared for him after what he has done. He has murdered thousands with no remorse. Cold blooded killing. And she had saved him. Murder is how he had repaid her after she was gone. Murder...

She was the only one who saw light in him - of course that was before he had become completely submerged in dark magic. She was his first and only true friend and love. She was the only one he was willing to give up all his power - everything - for. He would take it all back for her to be by his side once more. He would give up the world for her, just as she gave her life. All the fear he holds over everyone, he would take it all back in a heartbeat, just to see her. To see her smile; hear her laugh; see her eyes; feel her touch; embrace her hugs; her everything. He would give it up for her. All he has worked for; all his followers; all his power; his world, he would  give it up.

The world. His world. He, Tom Marvalo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, would give up the world, his world, for Faeyth McGuffian.

-

And now, at his demise, Tom Riddle stands, facing Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Beams of light protrude from each wand gripped in their hands. Tom Riddle knows that only one of the two will make it out alive. He knows all his horcruxes, items defiled with pieces of his soul, were destroyed by the boy in front of him. Tom Riddle, cold hearted with barely any human left in him, actually felt a warmth penetrate his icy walls. It was as if he could feel a soft hand, waiting for him.

He blocked it out. Tom Riddle would not let this boy defeat him, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Lord Voldemort. This mere boy's 'love' would not be the thing to vanquish him! And yet, that soft, delicate hand rested on his shoulder, no matter how much he tried to shake it. It was as if a ghost had come to take him. Maybe he should - no! He, Tom Riddle, is the most powerful wizard on the world. Love would not be his downfall.

-

Tom Riddle and Harry Potter's connection, Priori Incantatum, broke and rebounded at the Dark Lord. Tom Riddle was over powered by love again. But, just before the spell hit him, everything froze.

Tom saw his conqueror across from him. Wizards and witches alike stood by the grand castle Tom had once called his home.

He looks at the orphan boy across him. Dirt and grime covering the boy's face and clothes. Instead of seeing Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, standing there, Tom saw himself and what he could have been if he not let hatred consume him.

She had been right and Tom had pushed her away, too fearful and blind to see how her words have rung true.

As his own curse is spiraling back at him, something catches his eye. The feeling of that hand is warmer than ever. Time is still slow and Tom sees a shimmering figure standing beside him.

A woman, not having aged a day over eighteen, is standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly. She is as beautiful as ever, standing there next to him, someone who has hardly anything of his human soul left.

Time is beginning to catch up and all Tom can do is stare at her, wondering how she can smile at him after what he has done. His killing curse is rushing at him. She smiles at him, wider, full of an emotion Tom refuses to feel, or even acknowledge.

Time was speeding up. His volley of green light has reached and engulfed him. But, before the curse completely swallowed him, he heard her voice; soft and gentle. Merlin, it's been so long.

Tom Marvalo Riddle's last memory is of her, whispering in his ear, "It's time, Tom."

-

(10.14.19, 833 words)
Edited 5.11.20