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It’s Good to Feel Remorse
by Rihaan Shimomura

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own any other characters. But I do own the computer that this is being typed on, and that’s good enough for me.


“Bone of the father… unknowingly given… you will renew your son!”

Harry Potter had the overwhelming feeling that he was not going to leave this graveyard alive. The bounds around his arms and ankles were tight and uncomfortable. The sweat in his bangs was burning his eyes whenever he moved his head. The gag in his mouth was repulsive to his tongue and he had the sickening feeling that he was going to vomit, but he just couldn’t get there. His nemesis was apparently going to come back to life and there was nothing he could do about it.

‘My parents must be so proud,’ he thought bitterly. Cedric was now dead. Wormtail had him pinned to the gravestone so easily. He was beaten by a coward. And soon, he was sure that he would be honored with a few of Voldemort’s famous Crucio’s, topped off with an Avada Kedavra. Life just couldn’t get any better for him. Because something would just make it worse.

As Peter poured the dust of Tom Riddle Sr. in the cauldron, Harry wondered why he was in any of this in the first place. Why was he here? Why was he a wizard? Why did he have to come to Hogwarts? For that matter, why was he with the Dursleys? Why had he been subjected to pain and torture all of his life? Why had he survived the Killing Curse?

Why was he still alive?

He had thought about that question all of his life, but didn’t go too deep into the matter, for it would lead to decisions that he didn’t want to make. Although, he was sure Voldemort would make the decision as soon as he rose. He wished it wouldn’t be so dramatic. He wanted it to end soon.

Was there anything good that happened in his life? The first one was Hagrid. He was a great friend, but he was not very secretive. It seemed like he was telling someone else a major secret once a year. He wondered why Dumbledore frequently told Hagrid everything.

The second was Hedwig. His best animal friend. He wondered what she was doing right now. Possibly fending off the males of the owlry. Or she could possibly be flying off towards him. They always had some strange connection, probably because she was his familiar. If she could hear his plead, he would beg her to stay at Hogwarts. He would miss her terribly.

The last were Ron and Hermione. They were his best friends in the world. Ron was his first friend since he arrived on the train to Hogwarts. He had met Hermione also, but Ron had pretty much scared her away. Harry felt ashamed for letting that happen. If it wasn’t for him coercing Ron, Hermione wouldn’t have survived the troll. She wouldn’t have become his best friend.

That brought Harry to the age-old question; who was truly the best friend? He half-wanted to say that it was Ron, but after all that happened that year, Harry was sure that such was not the case. The only person who stood up with Harry when his name was blown out of the goblet was not Ron. He had always known that Hermione was the more helpful friend, but he always, for some reason, thought that Ron was the more loyal friend. He was wrong, apparently. Hermione was the more helpful, loyal, and better friend.

Or was it only ‘friend’?

“Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly given – you will – revive – your master!”

Harry didn’t hear, because he had just had a startling epiphany. He had just thought of Hermione as his best friend in the world. But did he have any feelings for her? What about Cho? Sure, she was pretty, but he didn’t even know her. Hermione, on the other hand, had a certain connection with him. It was like she could understand his thoughts, feel his feelings…she could read him like a book. And Harry could do the same with her. He and Hermione couldn’t do that with anyone else, not even Ron. Besides, it wasn’t like he could even think about Cho. Her boyfriend just died, and he was sure that Cedric wouldn’t like it. In fact, he figured that Cho would be in a depression for a while.

So did he like Hermione? Romantically? What would it feel like to go on a date with her? It was certainly worth a try. She was very pretty. There was a chance that Hermione liked him. While he was sneaking glances at Hermione’s beautiful face during the Yule Ball, sometimes Hermione looked his way at the same time. They would stare at each other for a few seconds, each trying to figure out what the other was thinking, until Hermione finally look away, a red stain on her cheeks. He had never seen her smile so brightly after each time. Was it, at the least, a crush? Maybe, he could just ask? He had nothing to lose. Their relationship was too strong to be made awkward by a simple more-than-friendly invitation to Hogsmeade.

His thoughts were broken as Peter’s blood-curdling scream filled the air. He looked at, first, the bloody dagger, then the arm that was dripping. Wormtail cut off his hand. He then looked at the cauldron. The liquid was completely blood-red and boiling. Even the rising smoke was red.

And reality hit him. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t going to live past these few moments. He wasn’t going to see Hogwarts again. He wasn’t going to see Hagrid. He wasn’t going to see Ron. He was not going to see Hermione Granger’s smiling face one more time.

He closed his eyes, miserably trying to keep the tears in his eyes. He had no one to blame but himself. He was going to die in front of Voldemort, defenseless, and Tom would soon move on to his friends. His mind made him picture Ron shaking uncontrollably on the ground with three cloaked men pointing their wands at him. He could picture Hagrid swinging at the Death Eaters charging at him, taking them out in pairs, until five sickly green beams of light from every direction strikes him. He could picture Hedwig trying to fly away from the danger, but two well-placed Reductos made sure she couldn’t flap the wings that no longer existed, causing her to land into the Forbidden Forest. He could see each and every Weasley stuck in their lop-sided house, the doors and windows sealed, while the charms that kept the house together and barely sturdy were being removed by Voldemort himself.

What he could not picture was Hermione in pain. His mind… and his heart wouldn’t allow it. It was at that moment that he realized that not only did he like Hermione, but he loved her… and she would never know. He didn’t care if she didn’t return the feelings. He wanted her to know before he met his end. But Voldemort wouldn’t grant him that wish. Harry wouldn’t allow himself to admit that Voldemort would taunt her with that fact before he killed her.

Harry had never felt so much regret. He had never felt sorrier in his life than this. He was so filled with guilt. So much, he had unconsciously touched his magic with the overwhelming feeling. It felt like his entire body was filled with guilt and sorrow. It spread through every bone in his body, and pulsed through every vein. If he had his eyes open, he would have seen the dust and sand close around him slowly turn black. He suddenly felt tired. He had started to accept his fate. He wasn’t going to die looking into the darkness of his eyelids. He had to think of a goodbye picture.

Hermione, walking down the staircase, wearing a periwinkle dress, the glitter sparkling around the splayed dress with each graceful step, Her hair in a loose bun, her smooth and sleek brown hair framing her beautiful face, her radiant smile lighting the entire room, her warm brown eyes looking around the room before it stopped on emerald ones for fourteen very long seconds before looking down at her heeled shoes with a smile tugging her lips.

Harry figured that there was no better goodbye picture than that. Voldemort would certainly be mad when he saw Harry die with a smile on his face.

Harry was in another world now. He was dreaming of what could’ve been. He could’ve been taking Hermione out for a walk, slipping his hand in hers as they strolled around the lake. He could’ve been studying with her, only getting properly motivated this time around. He could’ve been in Hogsmeade with her, smiling as her face glowed after seeing a particularly beautiful quill, before moving along, then receivinga pleasant shock when he placed it on the counter to pay for it. He could’ve been doing just that. If only he had noticed this feeling longer. Hermione was the most important person in his life. And she would never know. He was filled with both love and remorse.

“B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken… you will…resurrect your foe.”

Harry couldn’t muster the energy to flinch as Wormtail dug his dagger in Harry’s arm. He couldn’t even look up. It was as if his magic was weighing him down, as if forcing him to not move. He obeyed. Wormtail left his limp body over to the cauldron. He heard three distinct drops. It was almost like a countdown. He heard bubbling that seemed distant, but getting closer. Apparently, that was the last of the ritual. Harry’s number was up. Out of the corner of his eye, he blearily saw a figure rising up from the cauldron and became tense. He heard gasping noises. Was that supposed to happen? He heard convulsing. That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Harry slowly looked up to a sight that amazed him.

Lord Voldemort, presumably, was still standing in the cauldron, his red slits for eyes glowing in anger. But it wasn’t directed at Harry.

“You…idiot!” Voldemort wheezed, and Harry was sure that his voice was not supposed to be so strained. In fact, it looked like Voldemort was in pain. “Y-you fool! You must’ve done something wrong! Give me my wan-!”

Before Wormtail could wonder what he did wrong and reach the wand in his pocket to hand over to his master, terrified of the consequences, Harry felt a shudder all the way through his body. He felt it travel up his spine, all the way to his head. To his amazement, he felt something shoot out of his forehead. He blinked as a flash of dark red headed towards Voldemort and hitting him squarely in the chest, causing him to fall back, the cauldron tipping over with him. Tom, in a panic, crawled out from the cauldron and stood up. Harry gave a perverse smile at seeing Voldemort looking so afraid.

It was quiet for a few seconds. Peter and Harry were wondering what had happened while Voldemort was looking around the sky, afraid that something might come down and strike him. Seconds later, something did. A dark red flash of light came hurtling down so fast it was almost like a flashlight aimed directly at him. It struck him in the chest. he stumbled, but didn’t fall. A half-second later, the same flash struck him again, this time from the direction of the house that was next to the cemetery. This time, Voldemort was knocked to the ground again, his back hitting the cauldron, and Peter looked on, helpless to do anything for his master. Tom began screaming in a mix of rage and fear, and Harry could see him sweating from the head stone. About two seconds later, three red flashes came from the sky and consecutively hit him before he knew it. Voldemort sat up in reflex, screaming, blood trickling down the sides of his mouth.

Wormtail dropped his dagger. Harry looked towards him, and choked back a gasp. He was grabbing his forearm. It was burning with pain, it seemed. He lifted his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. It was pure black, but he could tell that it was fading slowly. Wormtail yelled in pain, the volume equal to his master’s in Harry’s ears. What Harry didn’t know was that the same was happening to every Death Eater in the world.


The once beautiful Bellatrix Lestrange was doing nothing. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Dementors tended to suck the life out of you, little-by-little. At least they left her sanity. Well, as much sanity she possessed when she arrived there. She usually had a huge arrangement, or mess, of thoughts. One moment, she wondered how her husband is holding up, being in another part of the prison. Another, she wondered if she would get to kill the Longbottom boy and grandmother, something she didn’t have the time to do because said hag had disappeared with him that night. That all eventually led to one evenly focused thought (the first one in decades) that was helped along with a tingle in her right arm. The Dark Lord. She smiled at her arm, but she was too tired to lift her sleeve.

Then she felt pain, for some reason. Bellatrix, being the sadist that she was, enjoyed the pain for over a full minute before she coughed up blood and realized that this was not her master’s way of rewarding her.


When their screams stopped, and the Dark Mark completely disappeared from Wormtail’s arm, Voldemort collapsed while Wormtail’s eyes traveled to the back of his head, before falling on top of his master. Harry had no idea what had happened. It took a few minutes for him to realize that Voldemort was dead. It took a few more seconds to realize that he himself was still alive. A slow grin appeared on his face as he Felt he could breathe again. He looked around to see the trophy and Cedric’s body. How to get to it?

‘I’m sure Hermione will forgive me,’ he thought with a dry and muffled chuckle. ‘Dobby!’ He internally screamed in his head, praying to whatever fate that had seemingly turned his life around that he could hear him.

A pop signaled Harry’s immense relief. “Yes, Mr. Pot-” but the house-elf stopped at Harry’s appearance. The house-elf immediately snapped the ropes and gag to disappearance and let Harry float to the ground. “Who did this to the great Mr. Potter?” he asked with a vehemence that would’ve made Snape’s seething seem like a giggle.

“Voldemort,” Harry whispered after ripping out the cloth in his mouth, his voice raw with emotions and underuse. “We need to go.”

Dobby held back his whimper to help his hurting ‘Master’ (whether he knew it or not). “Where would Master Potter like to go, sir?” Dobby asked as he conjured a bandage wrap.

“Back to Hogwarts, Dobby. My dorm would be nice.” Harry really didn’t want to be seen. He needed rest.

“Yes, sir!” Dobby said in mock salute.

“Could you get Cedric, too, Dobby? I want his parents to bury him properly.”

Dobby nodded and walked over to Cedric’s body, talking about how brave and kind The Great Harry Potter is. Harry noticed with some sadness that Dobby didn’t bat an eyelash at Cedric.

Dobby came back seconds later, levitating Cedric’s body and carrying the Triwizard Cup. “Is Mr. Potter ready?” Dobby asked him.

Harry nodded, confused. “How are you touching that cup? It’s a portkey.”

Portkeys don’t work on House-elves,” Dobby explained. He snapped his fingers and Cedric’s body disappeared, presumably to the front of the maze where everyone was waiting. Dobby proceeded to grab Harry’s hand and popped out of the graveyard.


Harry had never thought that this would ever happen to him. He had never thought that he would see the sun again. It was quite a relaxing sight. Especially through sunglasses. The sun gave him a calm that he didn’t know he had. Or was it the girl that was next to him? He decided that it was both. He was doing something that he thought he would never do. Relax. No worries about Voldemort. No worries about rogue Death Eaters. No worries about convicted godfathers that he had to free. No deadly tasks to prepare for. No pesky little reporters buzzing up his and his girlfriend’s lives. No more spies and arrogant professors. And most importantly, no relatives that hated his very existence and proved it every day. All he had to worry about was the OWL’s exams next year.

All was certainly well with the world.

“Harry?”

He turned over to face her, while giving him a chance to get his side tanned.

“Yeah, ‘Mione?”

“I thought you were asleep,” she said to him with a soft smile. “You were motionless for a full minute. You have to move a little bit, otherwise you won’t know when you get a sunburn.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, grabbing her hand and moving his thumb in circles on the back of her hand. “Just thinking about all that’s happened over the weeks.”

Hermione smiled at her boyfriend. “It has been a nice change in both of our lives over the past weeks, hasn’t it? Especially yours. I swear, it seemed that mum tried to compete with Mrs. Weasley in cooking you large meals and stuffing you.”

“Well, your mum won,” he said with a small smile.

Hermione’s smile dropped. “Speaking of Weasley, are you ever going to forgive him?”

“He didn’t believe me when I first told you and him,” Harry said. “And when Dumbledore said it, he begged to be my friend again. I already forgave him once this year, I don’t think I want to do it again. Besides,” he squeezed her hand, “It’s not like I can’t live without him.”

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, and looked back up into the sky. Harry had found out that Hermione didn’t really care if he made up with Ron. In fact, she seemed happy. He had always suspected that the only reason Hermione was friends with Ron because they were both Harry’s friends, but he thought they had formed a small friendship by now.

It didn’t matter now, though. Harry would never speak to Ron again, even though he and Hermione were still on speaking terms with the rest of the family. Thankfully, Ginny believed Harry and gave Ron a debut of her signature move – in the Great Hall – that everyone began to know and fear. They would never look at their own bogies the same way again.

Harry took a moment to look at the lovely curves of his girlfriend in a bikini. However conservative it was, that white bikini was Harry’s favorite. And tan lotion. Both combined were a powerful force. How could he have not noticed her beauty? Was it the heavy Hogwarts robes or was it his own blindness?

Hermione peeked at him ogling her and smiled at the sky.

“You don’t know how to be subtle, Harry? You’re drooling a little.”

Harry gave a sheepish grin that made two points slowly appear on her top. Luckily, he didn’t notice. “Sorry. If you had my view, you would understand.”

Hermione blushed a little, but Harry couldn’t tell because of her light tan. “Thank you, Harry.”

As Harry turned on his back, still keeping his eyes on Hermione, he wondered what he had done to make the fates give him ultimate happiness. Harry still never knew how it happened that night, but was thankfulness whatever that went wrong..

He amended his earlier thought. Apparently, life could get better. And it never got worse again, with Hermione by his side.


Author’s Note: Let me explain, since I didn’t think Dumbledore would. In Deathly Hallows, it reveals that Horcruxes can return to the bearer to form one whole soul if the bearer feels regret for everything he has done. The process can be quite painful, and can result in death. I don’t know what that ritual entails, but this is one of my theories. Since Voldemort is an above-average wizard, the ritual would probably not kill him. And then I added love to the mix, like I always do. Harry’s magic is strong, as we all know (especially Aunt Marge). His magic usually shows his emotions. If he had unconsciously let his magic radiate around his body, then it would seep into his bones and blood. The same blood that was required for the ritual. A mixture of love and remorse will definitely kill him, with plenty of pain to spare that Tom could not escape.

The third part of the chant said forcibly taken. Since Harry did not struggle, then it was not taken by force, technically. That also helped with the pain. I, for one, think that it is a much more deserving punishment than a quick and completely painless death.

Also, you’re probably wondering how the Death Eaters died. During Voldemort’s death in canon, it was too quick for him to do anything. I think that Voldemort can take the life of anyone wearing the Dark Mark (All we know about Karkaroff is that he ran away and was found in a few days). I also think that Voldemort can use the magical energy of anyone wearing the Dark Mark. As he was going through the pain, he was trying to drain Wormtail’s life and energy at the same time as everyone else. But since the remorse and love now flowed through his bloodstream, and we’ve all seen how he reacts against love in the Department of Mysteries, he would seem to have died a hundred times over, taking every single death Eater with him.

And in case you are confused about the small aftermath/epilogue, Harry spent the summer at Hermione’s house. They are in the backyard catching a tan. Relaxing, isn’t it?

Order of the vessels of the Horcruxes as they appear – 1st blast was obviously Harry. Next was the Gaunt ring. The one from the shack was Nagini. The three to come at once were the cup, the diadem, and the locket.

Please review, everyone!

Edited – April 13, 2013

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