MetaFic

It was over. Voldemort was vanquished.

All that remained now was the battered, broken body of Tom Marvolo Riddle, lying trapped under a pile of debris where a section of outer wall from the ancient castle and school, Hogwarts, had fallen on him.

In the end, it was no grand spell, no grand gesture, no terrible duel fought to a bloody climax on top of the ramparts that proved the undoing of the Dark Lord. It was Harry and his heart, nothing more.

After two years of searching, each horcrux of Voldemort had fallen in their turn. These victories had been costly to Harry and his companions. Harry lost his left eye and two fingers from his left hand. For Ron, the price was his right leg. Hermione would carry terrible burn scars for the rest of her life. Ginny had taken a curse, diving in front of Harry, that the healers said would leave her barren for life. Tonks was blind. Remus was dead.

And yet, despite those horrors, Harry never stopped loving his friends and his family of choice. On that terrible night Voldemort, sensing his defeat was near, struck at Hogwarts. The last horcrux, in the form of Nagini, was destroyed, and Harry Potter stepped forward to face his destiny.

Oh, there was a battle. Terrible was the battle in nature, and terrible were the injuries given and received. But the main fight was not of spells. It was a battle of the mind and of the heart, and it was started by Harry, who had worked it all out months earlier.

Voldemort had thought he had won when Harry submitted his mind to the dark wizard's touch. Voldemort had stumbled into Harry's trap. As the power of Harry's feelings for his friends washed over the evil man, as Tom Riddle was forced to feel Harry's love for his friends, his adopted family, and finally, the woman he planned to marry, Lord Voldemort crumbled under the assault. His persona was stripped away, his augmentations failed, his modifications to his own body slowly reversed and retreated.

Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was vanquished, leaving only an aging, frail Tom Riddle in his place. Riddle had lashed out blindly, striking with all his formidable power at everything around him. In his anger and fury, he had not seen the wall he stood next to fail, the magic supporting it stripped and fading. The section of building had collapsed, encasing him in rubble.

"Are you planning to kill me now, Potter? Will you strike me down while I lay helpless?" Riddle had cried.

Harry Potter looked at the man lying on the ground and lowered his wand.

"No. No, I'm not like you, Tom. I won't become a killer. You're mortal now, just a man, like any other. The Aurors will come for you soon. The ministry can mete out your punishment."

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said. "Let's get you to the infirmary. Ron's there now getting patched up. The Aurors will be along shortly to collect this — thing."

"We shouldn't leave him alone," Harry said. "He's tricky. He might escape."

"I'll guard him," Ginny Weasley’s quiet voice said into the gathering darkness. "I came through unhurt: I'll keep my eye on him."

Harry gave her a hard look. "Are you sure?"

Ginny smiled at him. "He's just a man, nothing more. A broken man trapped under stone. I think I can handle him."

Harry looked long and hard into the face of his fiancée, as if studying her soul. Finally he nodded and allowed Hermione to lead him away.

Ginny Weasley watched until they were out of sight and then turned to Tom Riddle. She looked at him thoughtfully, recognizing the boy he had been despite the age and wear on his face.

"What?" Riddle screamed, unnerved by her calm examination of his current state.

"What happened to you, Tom? Why did you go so far astray?"

"Do I know you, little girl?"

"No. But I know you, or at least, I knew your sixteen-year old self."

"Ah," Riddle said in understanding. "My diary."

"Yes," Ginny whispered. She tucked her wand behind her ear - in the same manner that poor, long dead Luna had once done - and knelt beside the man's head.

"Your lover should have finished me. I am Lord Voldemort and I will rise again. My followers will free me from whatever prison those idiots at the ministry place me in, and I will return. And do you want to know the first thing I plan to do? I plan to kill you and make Potter watch!"

"No. No, Harry did what he had to."

Riddle laughed, a raspy sound. "He is a fool. He is weak and too cowardly to do what needs to be done."

"You're wrong, Tom. Harry let you live because he's strong. He's loving and noble and almost too good for words. He let you live because he's a man of principle. He doesn't need or want your blood on his hands, and he believes the authorities will do the right thing, now that you're powerless. He's not like you. He's a decent man."

"He will be a dead man, once I rise again."

Ginny Weasley reached into her pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, the one her mother always made her carry. She calmly folded it into a square.

"No, Harry's too good to kill you in cold blood. That's not who he is." Ginny locked eyes with Riddle. "He saved me from you, down in the Chamber of Secrets. Now it's my turn to save him."

Ginny Weasley reached over and covered the mouth and nose of Tom Riddle with the handkerchief. She leaned forward, pressing with both hands and all of her weight on the man as he struggled.

"Do you know, Tom, the single thing I wanted to do the most when I came to Hogwarts? I wanted to pet a unicorn." Ginny pressed harder on the struggling man, closing off his supply of air. She let her own tears fall freely. "What I got was you. You used me. You broke me. You touched me with your darkness. And they knew. The unicorns knew. And they wouldn't come to me, not ever."

Riddle's struggles grew weaker. He stilled and looked into the eyes of Ginny Weasley, telling her that if she murdered him, her precious Harry Potter would never love her again.

"I know," she said. "I know Harry may never forgive me for this. I know he may never want me again after I kill you. I know, but it doesn’t matter, because I can't let you hurt Harry, or Ron, or Hermione, or any more little girls ever again."

Ginny took a deep, wracking breath. "Because you're right. You would get loose, and then the whole thing would start over. I can't allow that. Harry deserves a life, even if he doesn't want someone as broken and dirty as me in it."

She looked down. Riddle's struggles had stopped. His eyes were wide and staring. She withdrew the handkerchief. She touched his neck, looking for a pulse.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead.

Ginny Weasley stood and looked down at the body. She dropped the handkerchief and turned away, tears streaking down her cheeks.

To her right, silent and pale, stood Harry.

Ginny gasped and stepped away. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just couldn't--." She covered her face in her hands and wailed her misery.

Strong arms enveloped her, held her close. Harry's voice whispered soothingly into her ear. His lips kissed the top of her head. He told her he understood and he loved her, and that was all that mattered now.

Ginny took a deep breath and allowed Harry to lead her away from the terrible scene, away from Tom Riddle, away from the horrors of her childhood.

For Harry and Ginny, the nightmare was over and the rest of their lives had begun.