First Place - Angst

Before Charlie had a chance to respond to Harry's declaration, Harry transformed into his phoenix form and flew towards the golden light that surrounded Dumbledore and Voldemort. He could hear the phoenix song from the Priori Incantatum effect and he joined in, creating a song in counterpoint to the one he heard. His song combined with that of the magical reaction of the brother wands, and he struck the perfect resonation. He felt the golden cage allow him to enter, recognize him, and he glided in to rest on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Your bird won't be able to help you Dumbledore," Voldemort sneered. Harry felt beyond the sinister hate to the uncertainty and doubt. Voldemort was afraid.

Dumbledore lifted a hand and stroked Harry's feathered head. Harry leaned into the touch and felt the rush of love from the man who had sought to protect him since before he was born. Albus had faults like any other man, but Harry realized that he did see the headmaster as a mentor, a sort of surrogate grandfather.

Harry let out a cry and swooped over their heads. He circled the golden cage, even more brilliant to him than it had been in the graveyard. He vanished in a burst of flame and reappeared without flame or sound behind Voldemort, who was unaware of his presence.

Both powerful wizards were concentrating hard on the bead of gold that was moving between their wands. Harry knew that Dumbledore was buying him time, not pushing as hard as he could. He transformed silently and stood behind Voldemort, intent on examining the dark lord's magical flow.

It was rotten and black, filthy, and Harry hesitated to touch it, but he had to, and somehow had to prevent it from polluting him any more than Voldemort and his Death Eaters already had.

Harry closed his eyes and began to prepare himself. The feeling of love, pure and consuming, was still there. There was a sense of Charlie lingering within him, perhaps a result of what Harry had done unthinkingly to their magic, and at that very moment Dumbledore was acting out of love, love for the wizarding world, love for Hogwarts, love for his students and staff, ... and love for Harry.

The warmth of love built inside him, bubbled and tickled. Harry felt a slightly goofy smile forming on his face and suppressed the delightful laugh that wanted to escape. He focused on that warmth and channeled it, amplified it, projecting it with all the power he had at the evil wizard standing only a few feet in front of him.

It was like a spell of Harry's creation, the way a light that was many colors and a single warm glow all in one shot out from his body and impacted Voldemort, surrounding him. The dark lord's body stiffened then and Harry suspected there was a look of supreme astonishment on his face. It had taken Harry so long to recognize the feeling of love for what it was and he wondered if Voldemort, if Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. knew, if he had ever felt love in his unnatural life. He doubted that the creature before him understood the emotion for what it was. Perhaps like Quirrell, Voldemort was burning in some way from Harry's love.

Everything outside of the two of them faded as Harry's focus sharpened. Albus Dumbledore, thought by most of the world to be the most powerful wizard in existence, became an insignificant piece of the background.

Harry's hand slowly reached forward and the crackle of powerful magic meeting powerful magic was audible to him. At that moment he felt Albus push, and the golden bead entered Voldemort's wand, forcing the regurgitation of years of spells. Screams filled the air, the shear number of voices almost making Harry ill. He recognized more than one... Snape... Belletrix... Wormtail...

Breathing deeply and evenly Harry's other hand moved forward and both grabbed onto the sickly black magic. It felt nauseating and poisonous, evil as deep as Harry could imagine. He wondered if Voldemort had ever had the potential to become something other than what he was, wondered how anyone could choose this.

Before it overcame his senses Harry thrust out his sensation of love to keep the darkness from taking him. He anchored his feet firmly on the ground and called on the earth's magical forces to bolster his own magic, to give him the strength to destroy Tom Riddle.

Shadow people came out of the brother wand to Harry's and prowled the perimeter of the cage. Harry had never seen what was in the pensieve that he had delivered to Dumbledore from Percy's memorial and so was a bit surprised when Percy appeared among them. He hadn't thought that Voldemort would have killed Percy himself. But then, Percy was a Weasley, the closest thing Harry had to a family for many years.

"Hold on Harry," Percy floated to a rest beside Harry.

Harry nodded at the former Gryffindor Head Boy, the Weasley that was always the odd one out, "I will Percy."

The touch from these shadowy forms was not like the touch of a ghost. Percy's hand was still warm somehow, "I'm sorry for everything Harry. Take care of my family... our family for me."

"I'm sorry too Percy," Harry responded. "I'll always look after them."

"Kill the son of a bitch for us all Harry," Percy smiled mischievously, looking more like a Weasley than ever.

"I intend to," Harry answered in kind. He felt resolve and a firming of his purpose with the support of those Voldemort had killed. One by one they came to him and said a few words of encouragement or hope.

Harry tightened his grip on the black magic, though his hands longed to let go before it took him. He pulled, and even with the slight boost to his strength from the dragon blood it was more difficult than Harry had expected.

Voldemort attempted to turn and look at Harry. He must have heard Harry speak and felt something strange happening to his magic even if he couldn't see it or understand it. Turning was impossible though. Between the connection of the wands and the hold Harry had on his magic, Voldemort was fixed in place as surely as if he had been petrified.

Concentrating with everything he had on the dark lord's magic Harry felt a connection beginning to form. He didn't want it. The very last thing he desired was to know the thoughts and feelings of Voldemort, or have his thoughts and feelings known by the thing that had been trying to kill him all his life, to be further connected than they already were.

It was impossible to avoid by then though and Harry was sucked in. Tom Riddle's whole life flashed before him like a muggle film. The orphanage, where Tom always felt different and alone, where he was smaller than all the other boys and was bullied and called bastard, where his accidental magic protected him and made him even more of a target.

Those who ran the orphanage were no better, looking the other way as they dealt with other problems that they saw as more important, like the war that was building in muggle Europe and the influx of orphans they expected as a result. Tom was just one scrawny boy who needed to learn to stick up for himself.

The Hogwarts letter was laughed at to begin with, but Tom suddenly felt like the answer to all his questions and prayers was there. He knew it was no hoax... that he had to be a wizard. With a rush of hatred for the adults that had ignored him and allowed him to be abused by the other boys he determined that he would be the greatest wizard who ever lived, and he would make them pay for every bit of hurt he ever felt.

Eventually a representative from Hogwarts came, a man whose bright blue eyes twinkled and radiated power. Tom wanted that power for himself. He did not like the man though, despite the fact that he got him out of the orphanage, especially when he informed Tom that he would have to return every summer.

At first, Hogwarts was no better than the orphanage. He was sorted into Slytherin House, which for some reason was looked down on by all the other Houses. In private all the other Slytherins looked down on Tom and called him mudblood, a word that he didn't really understand but the inflection behind it and the meaning of the root words was definition enough.

Being alone was nothing new to Tom. He worked hard and excelled at his classes. When he returned to the orphanage it was with a superior attitude and the knowledge that one day he would have the ultimate means for revenge. So he smirked at the older boys when they hit him and stored away each and every name on a list in his head, recorded every instant of violence.

Tom studied hard and researched his mother's ancestry in hopes to prove himself worthy to the other Slytherins. Almost in disgust he turned to his father's line and traced it back through centuries, much of that work done in the summer. It was then that he discovered one word that would forever change his life... Slytherin. His father had an ancestor named Heloise Slytherin. Armed only with the name and dates of birth and death Tom returned to Hogwarts and found the answer to his quest. He was a direct descendent from one of the most famous, most powerful wizards ever.

He learned everything he could about Salazar Slytherin, and decided that there would be nothing more worthy than finishing what his ancestor had started. After all, it fitted nicely with his deep desire for revenge. All the people who had really hurt him were muggles. The wizards he would get by being their superior in all things.

Tom Riddle began to create his alter ego, the name that would one day be feared by all. He recruited allies amongst his fellow Slytherins, impressing them with his power and ideals. Grindelwald had not yet been defeated but the entire world knew it was only a manner of time before Dumbledore won. Those who would have joined in Grindelwald's cause were looking for an alternative, and Tom Marvolo Riddle intended to fill the gap.

The Chamber of Secrets was difficult to find but not as difficult to open. The girl's death almost shocked him into going to Dumbledore and confessing, redeeming himself, but Tom stopped himself. He resolved he would never be the most powerful wizard in the world if he could not accept a death here and there.

After he graduated from Hogwarts Tom Riddle disappeared from the wizarding world to all but a few loyal allies. His first stop, now that he was a fully qualified wizard, was the house of his father, where he killed everyone inside. It was sickening how much he resembled the man who sired him, but he also got Slytherin's blood from that line. The corpses of his only remaining relatives looked up at him in fear and silent accusation. In a moment of fear and doubt Tom Riddle fled.

He ended at a pub in a neighboring town where he drank himself into oblivion. A girl who worked there took pity on him and brought him home with her. Tom found forgiveness and forgetfulness in her bed. He left in the morning before she woke without a word though and never looked back, never found out what became of her. He didn't even know her name or remember if he told her his.

In Eastern Europe Tom found dark wizards who were willing to teach him all they knew. His gift, his Parseltongue, was his commodity. Tom could speak with snakes and translate texts that no one else could decipher. He transformed himself with potions and spells, with ancient rituals and new ones he designed himself.

When he returned to England he found those that had been his allies in school and branded the first Death Eaters. It had been more than twenty years and the only things that remained of Tom Riddle were the wand and the power. He was Lord Voldemort, a power to be reckoned with, to be feared. The first targets his followers attacked were seemingly random muggles, but were mainly from the list, the boys who had bullied the young Tom Riddle... and their families.

Harry watched Voldemort's rise to power and his fall at the hands of a child. He saw more clearly than ever the murder of his parents, experienced the rebounded curse. Harry saw that he was right, that he had in part reflected the killing curse, but he hadn't survived. The baby that Hagrid took from the ruins of Potter Manor was younger than everyone thought. By the time Hagrid got there Harry might have looked like he was a year old, but he had just been born. Harry wasn't just a phoenix animagus... he was a phoenix.

Voldemort's spirit fled and hid for ten years, before finding Professor Quirrell to be his host and to drink the unicorn blood and attempt to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry saw all their encounters.

Harry breathed deeply and steadily. He knew what he had to do. Somehow after all that he still managed to hold onto the strong feeling of love that he continued to project. Voldemort had managed to turn, though in doing so he gave Harry an even tighter grip on his magic, twisted it around the younger wizard's hands.

The bright red slit eyes stared at the emerald green eyes with hatred and loathing. Harry felt pity for Tom Riddle then, who had never really had a chance, who never knew love. A very small part of Harry was able to feel love for the small boy whose mother died, whose father had abandoned him, and who was beat black and blue by older orphaned boys on a regular basis. The small boy had hardened over the years and was destined to commit terrible sins before he ever knew that magic was real.

Voldemort's eyes widened then and Harry pulled his hands back towards him. He felt a tear leak out from the corner of his eye. What was so different about them that Voldemort had become so evil and Harry had not? Harry did not understand how they had such similar childhoods but became such very different adults.

"You should have stayed with the girl," Harry said quietly, thinking perhaps he had found the answer. "She might have saved you, but you abandoned her and your son as surely as your father abandoned you."

Voldemort's eyes widened in understanding. With that Harry tugged and felt his own magic burn with the effort. There was a deafening 'SNAP' as the black magic tore apart and hung loosely in Harry's hands. He saw Voldemort's spirit rise from his body, which crumpled and stayed still. The spirit tried to get back to the magic, but the love that Harry still projected acted like a shield and prevented the spirit from getting anywhere near Harry, like a Patronus kept a dementor at bay.

It made a desperate attempt to attack Dumbledore, but without its own magic it had even less of a chance than it had in possessing Quirrell. Slowly, it rose and dissipated, silently shrieking in terror.

Harry looked down at his hands, at the black shining threads that hung there still. He felt the magic looking for a host and he would not accept it. Nearly dead on his feet with the effort it took to experience Voldemort's life and death Harry called on the earth again and saw the varying greens and browns rise up and twist around the black.

The earth cleansed the blackened stands of magic that could not have always been so twisted and evil. Slowly the blackness became a brilliant Kelly green and silvery blue, luminous and strong. Harry let it fall and seep into the ground, joining the currents of magic running through the earth.

The glow faded and Harry realized the golden cage was gone, the phoenix song silenced. Dumbledore had knelt down beside Riddle's body and was casting a succession of spells over it. He looked up at Harry with bright eyes.

"Is it over?" Harry questioned in a raspy voice. He swayed a bit. He wasn't sure if he believed it himself, that he had somehow won and survived. "Is it really over?"

"The prophecy has been fulfilled Harry," Albus's eyes twinkled, but Harry could also swear he saw a tear or two falling from the blue eyes into the beard. "Tom Riddle is dead, and this time he will not be coming back."

"What happens now?" Harry stumbled but wouldn't let himself sit or kneel. If he did he would never be able to stand.

Albus smiled at him, "You have your N.E.W.T.s to take."

A little laugh escaped. Exams were the furthest thing from Harry's mind just then.

"The world will be told Harry," Albus looked at him seriously. "Any Death Eaters who escape today will be captured and put to trial. Thanks to Remus no one who was acting of their own accord will be able to claim coercion."

Harry nodded. He would probably have to be at the trials, to testify to everything he saw... and now he had even more proof, though he wouldn't use any of Voldemort's memories unless he had to.

"Why didn't you save Tom?" Harry asked his mentor suddenly. He watched Dumbledore stand and looked up at him with tearing eyes.

"I tried Harry," Albus's eyes were bright as well, though with tears rather than the usual twinkle. "Tom never let me in, never confided in me, and there was only so much I could do. Headmaster Dippet and the Ministry refused to make any exceptions for one boy, especially a Slytherin."

Harry looked down at the crumpled figure in black robes and cloak. So much power had been put to such violent use.

"I didn't want to kill him," Harry looked up again and blinked, though he let the tears fall freely. He didn't know how many wizards had died at his hands today, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know. "I didn't want to kill anyone."

"I know Harry," Albus stepped over the corpse and hugged Harry. "I never wanted to kill Grindelwald, but he left me with no other choice, just as Tom Riddle did to you."

Harry breathed in the scent from the long white beard. Albus Dumbledore even smelled like his lemon drops. Harry let himself feel like a child for perhaps the last time in his life. When he was back with the rest of the wizarding world he would be the famous Boy-Who-Lived and Man-Who-Killed-Voldemort. He never wanted either title, but they were a defining part of who he was.

"He had a son Albus, and he never knew it," Harry sniffed. "That little boy, Alec, that Angelina's been investigating... he's Tom's great-grandson."

"Harry..."

"I saw it Albus... everything...," Harry shuddered at the memories that flashed through his mind. He felt the fear and uncertainty from Dumbledore and knew he had to comfort the older man. "I didn't absorb anything more from him. It was like with Dad or Charlie... but different."

Dumbledore nodded and then held Harry out at arm's length. He brushed some hair off Harry's forehead, where it had plastered in place, damp from exertion. Harry felt like his legs might collapse under him and wondered how he would manage to fend off everyone when he got back to the castle. He was nearly sick from the contact with Dumbledore, from the bright magic of the headmaster.

"We will need to show the body as proof," Dumbledore told Harry, but Harry heard no more of the explanation after that. He was distracted by a little tug in his chest.

Harry gasped in realization. There could only be one cause of that tug, "Dad."

He ignored Dumbledore as he transformed, ignored the headmaster as he called after him. With desperate determination Harry used the tremendous speed that a phoenix was capable was of and flew, guided by that little tug, the trees blurring beneath him.

He saw the ground of Hogwarts in remarkable clarity as he sped towards the fallen shape that had to be his father. There were so many prone figures, Death Eater and student, teacher, Order member, Auror, and Hit Wizard alike. Harry saw the magical threads in many of them, surprised at how few dead there were.

The green light of the killing curse built inside the wand before the words were even fully formed. Harry flew towards it as fast as he could and just as the curse left the wand he placed himself in its path and prepared himself. There wasn't even time to transform, but maybe that was for the better. What he was doing would probably cause widespread panic if he was in his human form.

Were he in human form he would have had a wry smile on his lips as the green light filled his vision and everything went black.

Finding the Key - Chapter 48

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