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Summary
Harry is resigned; he has to die.
As the last string tying Voldemort to his immortality, he has to die in order to save the world. So, when he walks into the woods and stands in front of Lord Voldemort, he’s not afraid.Well, that was before Hermione and Ron decided to interfere because they wouldn’t let him die on his own. Now, Harry is standing in front of an arrogant, insufferable Tom Riddle, fifty years in the past.
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A depressed postwar Harry has taken Death's hand, reunited with the horcrux he mourned, and traveled into his own past.
Now he wakes up on the morning of his eleventh birthday, ready to do things differently this time. He has no grand plans, just the instinct to be close to the man whose soul he shares.
Series
- Part 2 of How to Bear the Weight
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I may be ice: of such frigidity that frost is my aptest crown—flaunted testament to the frailties of my flesh—at aphelion of the warmth that has ever tantalised but never thawed me. Yet I’m also summer: the mesmerising menace masked by mirth, debauched bearer of delectation to all those haplessly basking in my luminescence, although I’m damned myself to the dark and despair that only a half–denizen of the Void can know.
He may be fire: of such fervour that he’s subjugated to that furious tempest raging within, mercilessly as surf ravages scar, scalding to the touch at zenith of his zeal, demanding immolation on a protean pyre—for whom does he burn tonight? Yet he’s also winter: winsome woe, scourge to the sublime and dread of the decadent, although all he craves in these worlds is return to the halcyon days he’s due.
We are both creatures of contradictions. It’s why we understand one another. But it’s not lost on me that ice and fire cannot mingle, that summer and winter never meet anywhere but the Ice. We tried for temperance.
We failed.
_What if Cassius and Darrow were lovers? A reimagining of Red Rising, told from Cassius’ perspective.
Series
- Part 1 of Alis Aquilae
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Summary
There were rumours. Mere whispers, spoken in the dark alleyways of Knockturn Alley and its underbelly slums, of a boy, or perhaps a young man, with green eyes and a strange affinity for the dead. A necromancer of some sort. Some said he lured people in to steal their souls. Others said that he would make the dead speak and reveal secrets thought lost - for a price, of course.
Voldemort did not know what the truth was, and he did not care to know. The only thing Voldemort was concerned with was if the boy would prove useful.
(And putting an end to this maddening obsession).
___Harry was not particularly happy to find himself in the past, wearing somebody else’s skin, and without a single knut to his name. And he was even less enthusiastic to learn that he had caught Voldemort’s attention. But he would make do, as he always has done.
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Summary
"My murderer," Tom croons to him, Harry's pulse racing beneath his grip.
"You'll never know the irony of that," Harry rolls his eyes.Harry Potter is a time-travelling, furious mess and he is going to kill the Dark Lord. Like most of his plans, things do not work out.
Tom should not be so obsessed with his would-be murderer.