06sess1ve1over

guess what! im back with another purge. not much to say for this one, except that im looking forward to continuing it. I've been sick, so unable to write properly, so i got a lot of tardiness on my schedule :(

Harry Potter had lived for more than 15 years after the war. He had lived as a best friend, as a saviour to the Wizarding World and as a teacher at Hogwarts. He had not wanted to marry, or have children, because the people he dated never seemed to be the right ones for him. However, he knew, from his experience as a teacher, that if were to meet his person, having children would be the joy of his life.

But this never happened. Instead, at 32 years old, Harry Potter vanished from the Wizarding World forever. But he did not die, no. He was teleported back in time.

To this day, Harry has no idea how it happened. One day he was in his chambers, wishing he could meet Voldemort again and the next, he found himself in the 1930s.

He awoke in an apartment. One that, apparently, belonged to him, under another identity. That day, he sought to find whoever had teleported him here, to find out why and how to get back. However, as he had been on his tracks to grab a newspaper and find out exactly when he was, he caught sight of a sign, just buildings from the one his flat was in.

Wool's Orphanage.

The words has stopped Harry right in his tracks. Of course, he remembered this name — it was the name of the orphanage Tom Riddle had been raised in. As he finally approached the newspapers bench close enough, he saw the date printed in black ink : August 28th 1935.

This made Tom Riddle 8 years old, about to turn 9.

After he had made the calculation in his mind, the wheels had kept on working in Harry's mind. He hadn't been sure what to do, at first. So, he went to grab some alcohol from a pub and waited for the day to pass. The next day, he decided he should go visit Tom Riddle. A visit wasn't a big deal, it didn't mean he would have to adopt him.

Except that, not even 5 minutes after he had stepped out of the orphanage, ready to go think on it, Harry turned right back around and entered the establishment for the second time of the day. Then, Harry had done the one thing that felt right to do in that instant, adopting Tom Riddle.

From the moment Harry had pulled him from the orphanage and brought him to his apartment, their dynamic had been unique. Harry might have been 32, caring for a 9 year old, he could tell that the boy already knew how to fend for himself. Legally, he had become Tom's guardian, and did everything he could to make the boy at ease and happy, but he never truly became his father, and even less so his "Dad".

In fact, Tom never called him that. The day they met, the boy had looked at him with that sharp, calculating gaze, and had simply declared, "I will call you Harry."

Harry hadn't minded. In truth, it felt more comfortable. It kept him from thinking of Tom as the child he could have had when he was most likely the reason he never had any. Then, the years flowed and Tom grew. Harry knew what would happen, when Dumbledore came into their apartment.

The boy was sent to Hogwarts, and he would become a Slytherin. A King of his own making. Although, Harry knew it would not happen immediately. At first, his boy would have trouble. He would be bullied, similarly to how he had been in the orphanage. And Harry knew he could not let that happen.

So, he got himself a job at Hogwarts. The same post he had kept for himself for 10 years in his previous, DADA teacher.

When Tom learned of it, he wasn't sure whether to be happy or mad. He was a little scared of having to go off to Hogwarts, where he knew no one, but it was also an opportunity for him — an opportunity to show the world who he really is. Harry coming with him might hold him down, but it could also protect him.

As the years passed, Tom's doubts about Harry follow him to Hogwarts vanished. It had only made the experience for Tom much better. The insults, banter, and bullying that should have fallen upon Tom never did, thanks to Harry's presence. He was able to rise more quickly than before, and Tom learned just how resourceful Harry could be.

At first, this knowledge only grew to him as learning to respect Harry more, though he already did as the man had treated him well. But with time, this respect turned into something more. A fondness, something possessive and encompassing that took ahold of Tom's being every time he was near his guardian. It was a feeling that he sought, that he knew was at least mildly reciprocated due to Harry's protective behaviour, and that only grew wider as time went on.

It was during the winter holidays of Tom’s sixth year that a shift began. Tom had been sitting in the library of the Malfoy Manor, researching some ancient ruins with Abraxas Malfoy, though his mind was entirely focused on wondering if Harry had remembered to eat lunch or if he was still buried under the stack of old Ministry files he insisted on sorting.

"You're staring into space again, Riddle," Abraxas remarked, leaning back in his velvet chair. "Or rather, you're wearing that look you always get when you're thinking about your guardian."

Tom’s eyes narrowed, a cool, warning glint hidden in their depths. "Mind your tongue, Abraxas."

"I mean no offense," Abraxas smirked, entirely unbothered. He knew of Tom’s possessiveness well. "It’s just... You rule the common room with an iron fist, yet you're completely wrapped around the finger of a man who still treats you like a clever schoolboy. If you want him to notice you as something more, you need to change something about your relationship. You've called him 'Harry' since you were a child. It places you on equal footing intellectually, yes, but it doesn't provoke him."

Tom leaned forward, curiosity piqued despite his irritation. "And what, pray tell, do you suggest I do use instead?"

"Older men," Abraxas started, "men of Potter’s vintage, are surprisingly fragile when it comes to certain power dynamics. My cousin told me about a Muggle-born girl she knew who used to tease older wizards by calling them 'daddy'. She said it makes them turn absolutely crimson. Flusters them completely. Breaks their composure in an instant. That is, only if some kind of sentiment is already shared."

Tom sneered, outwardly dismissing the advice. But as he rode the Floo back home, the concept took root in his mind. He thought back to Abraxas' words, and wondered around the one flaw of the tactic. If Harry doesn't return Tom's feeling truly, the way he thinks he does, then this flustered feeling will instead be replaced by disgust.

Hello all :) I'm back with another purge WIP. This one is a continuation of my previous purge, Memory on AO3, and this purge is the second chapter. I am going to continue this chapter (hopefully posted there tomorrow) and this fanfic because I have read ideas for it. Enjoy!

Weeks later, Harry Potter was sitting at home, thinking back about that battle, which they had won, but had landed him in the hospital, when his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, barged into his apartment. They both had a key, so it wasn't like Harry didn't hear the lock opening, but he was still surprised to see them come in.

"Harry!" the red-headed man exclaimed as he walked in, making Harry jump from his seated position. As Hermione followed behind him, Harry saw the same kind of shock and excitement on her face, which was quite rare of her. "Did you see the news?"

Harry frowned. He hadn't seen anything new quite shocking lately, so he shook his head in answer. He stood up to go grab the paper that Hermione was handing him, and his eyes widened as he read the title of the front page.

"THE DARK LORD VOLDEMORT RESURRECTED — HOPE FOR THE WIZARDING WORLD RISING ANEW"

The green-eyed man reread the title multiple times, making sure he wasn't hallucinating, and checked the image below, which was a picture of Voldemort himself from over 20 years ago. Harry felt a pinch to his heart as he looked into his soulmate's eyes, and his world started shifting as the news the paper screamed at him sinked in.

Voldemort was alive.

Hope for the Wizarding World rose anew.

His soulmate was alive.

Harry wanted to cry, scream, laugh, but also teleport himself to Voldemort's very position at the same time. But, first, before getting his hopes up, he needed to check.

He looked at Hermione, his vision a little blurry, and had to clear his throat before asking, "This is true? You have confirmation?"

His childhood best friend smiled back at him, and answered, "Yes, Harry. Draco sent me an owl after his mother told him that he was alive. Apparently she was there when some of the Unspeakables, accompanied by Bellatrix, performed the ritual because they needed people with deep ties to Voldemort and his Magic."

"Oh," Harry replied. He looked down at the ground and took a few breaths, trying to settle himself. The Death Eaters still had the loyalty mark on their arms, so it made sense that some of Voldemort's magic lingered there. "Right — where…" He looked back up to look at both his best friends. "Do you know where he is?"

Ron shook his head as a sad look came upon his face. Harry deflated, but he was already ready to begin looking for him in every corner of the world. However, Hermione spoke again, before he could begin packing his bags, "Harry, we think that it would be a good idea for you to try to get a shared dream with him tonight. You had loads of them in Hogwarts, so we think that it would be worth a try, that way you could properly inform him of the situation and maybe get to know where he is."

"Right, right." Harry nodded his head, agreeing with Hermione. It was a great idea. He began looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of what time it was. It looked very dark outside, and Harry guessed it might already well be past 11PM. If the man hadn't changed, Voldemort would be asleep at that time.

Ron and Hermione, knowing what it looked like when his friend was actively planning, bid him goodnight and left the apartment, leaving him to it. A few minutes later, Harry was settled in bed, at an earlier time than he had in months, and did his best to fall asleep. After several minutes, Harry huffed an annoyed breath, as he was pretty much still wide awake. However, when he opened his eyes, he found himself in the Slytherin dormitory, and immediately sat up from his position.

He saw in a soulmate dream.

He got up and started looking around. Voldemort couldn't be too far, they usually appeared right in front of each other. He walked towards the door, opened it, and looked around again, spotting Voldemort sitting in front of the Common Room fireplace. He heaved a breath of relief, and started running down the flight of stairs.

Voldemort, hearing the commotion, looked up from where he was and saw Harry running towards him, only for the man to slow down as he got closer and finally sit at the spot next to him. The Boy-Who-Lived was looking at him with wide eyes, as if he wanted to cry and jump up from happiness at the same time.

"Hi," Harry started, his voice wobbly.

"Hello, Harry. Long time no see."

There was a moment of silence before, suddenly, the boy broke into laughter. Voldemort kept looking at him, confused. His eyebrows furrowed when the laughter started sounding more like sobs, and he became concerned when tears started leaving the boy's eyes.

"I'm so sorry—" Harry said as he was trying to wipe the tears from his eyes uselessly. "I'm so so sorry."

Voldemort wrapped an arm around Harry's back, attempting something almost like a hug, which had the latter looking back up at him and straightening his position. "Stop crying."

Harry looked into his eyes for several seconds, searching for anger, but he found none. "You're not mad? I thought— You should be enraged with me."

"You were a child," Voldemort simply stated, "raised by incompetent Muggles and mentored by Dumbledore, who raised you like a pig for slaughter. You were manipulated." Harry looked at Voldemort, knowing that what the man was saying made sense. "Now that this war has broken out, you understand your mistakes, and are trying to redeem yourself. That is what a responsible person would do."

Harry nodded along, and Voldemort mentioning the war reminded him of what they were supposed to talk about in the first place. "Right, the war. Were you brought up to speed on everything? And, by who?"

"I think I gathered an idea of what is happening, yes," he replied. "Bellatrix explained to me most of it, and I read some recent newspaper." Voldemort tilted his head to the side, looking at Harry with a curious look. "One of them stated that you fought to respect my gravestone, a few weeks ago. Apparently, you were quite astonishing."

Harry blushed slightly at the compliment and gave out a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess. That island is now such a great place of mourning, prayers and hope that I couldn't just late it be destroyed. And your tombstone… Well, it has become an important place for me."

Voldemort hummed, listening to Harry with attention. Silence reigned for a few seconds before Voldemort spoke, "I seem to understand that some of your friends are in charge of defending and taking care of the battlefield, yes?" Harry nodded, knowing where his soulmate was going with all this. "It would be good if I could be brought up to date with the methods put in place. Perhaps I could help."

Harry gave out a long sigh. "Yeah, I know, you're a great strategist and all. But I'm not sure how much they would be willing to trust you. You have become a great hopeful figure, but people still don't agree with your way of doing things, and…"

"People?" Voldemort cut him off, "You do not include yourself in them?"

Harry stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at Voldemort with a complicated expression. "I have seen, first hand, what they do to people. Outside of the war. How they treat them, and even how they treat respectable places." He looked down, slightly ashamed of how his past self. "I used to think that Muggles would accept wizards, that they would see we are all the same. But they don't. And we aren't the oppressors here."

another purge... yall have got to stop with the purges..

anyway! i really hate this but it's the only idea that came to mind. i know nothing about UK politics and i also want to clarify that i do not agree with voldemort's stances at all!!!! (just in case), but the prompt that i got made me write this

this purge was a little different because we had to draw a taro card and i got the four of pentacles (upright), which represents saving money, conservatism, security, scarcity, and control (hence which i wrote about politics...)

anyway, if you decide to read this, hope you enjoy!

Harry never really thought about the politics, and mostly the economics in all of this. He knew it wasn't his fault, he had been chosen to fight this war, nobody had asked him if he wanted to, and he was raised during his entire time at Hogwarts to believe that Voldemort was pure evil without ever explaining to him what the political side behind all of this was.

The other thing is that Harry never had to worry about money. He had plenty from his parents' heritage, and nobody ever took the time to explain to him how to be careful about it. Of course, he knew that some people were poorer than others, like Ron's family, but he never quite grasped the meaning behind it.

He guessed everyone in the Order just assumed that he would entirely agree with his parents. That he had the same thoughts and opinions. Except he had none.

So, when, in one of their dreams, Voldemort asked him what he really thought about the political side of the Light, Harry froze. Because he had no idea what they ever preached, except for being against Voldemort. He was sure that he would agree with most of their ideas, but how was he supposed to argue against someone if he didn't even know what he was talking about.

He definitely didn't want to appear entirely clueless in front of Voldemort, and when the snakeman tried to explain to him what his own thoughts about the Ministry was, Harry said he didn't want to hear it, as his first political ideas coming from the Dark Lord Voldemort was not a great idea.

The following morning of that dream, he decided to ask Hermione.

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry started. They were all sitting in the Great Hall, having breakfast. "What exactly are the ideas of the current minister? Like… What they're planning to put into place?"

Hermione looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed. "I mean… I'm not exactly sure. Why do you ask?"

Harry hummed in response, and mumbled a short "No reason." before turning back to his breakfast.

He decided that maybe he should ask Voldemort himself to explain to him the politics of all this. Of course, he knew that the man would never be unbiased, and he shouldn't entirely trust the opinion of the Dark Lord, but if he ever wanted to make his soulmate stop targeting Muggles, he needed to start getting informed.

The opportunity to talk to him came that very night. Voldemort was already there, sitting on one of the sofas of what seemed to be the Slyntherin Common Room, his crimson eyes locking onto Harry the moment he materialized.

"You sought answers today, Harry," Voldemort murmured, his voice a low, vibrating chord that resonated directly in Harry’s chest. "And yet, your brightest friend had none to give. Disappointing, but entirely predictable."

Harry made his way over to where Voldemort had sitting, lowering himself onto one of the cushions himself. He crossed his arms, defensive but undeniably curious. "If you're so smart, then you tell me. What is Fudge actually doing as Minister of Magic?"

A sharp, humorless smile touched Voldemort's pale lips. "Fudge is a puppet, Harry. But the strings aren't pulled by anyone's ideology; they are pulled by humanity's thirst for gold. The Ministry under his regime is not a government of leadership, but a corporate entity cloaked in velvet robes. It runs entirely on a predatory form of capitalism that ensures the rich remain entrenched, while the rest are bled dry."

Voldemort stood up and walked closer to where Harry was sitting, the oppressive weight of his magic feeling strangely comforting, like a heavy blanket. "Take your friend, the Weasley boy. His father is a pureblood, yet they live in squalor. Why? Because the Ministry controls the monopolies on magical commerce. Unless you can bribe the right department heads—as Lucius does—your career is artificially capped. The Ministry funnels wealth upwards, ensuring that power remains concentrated in a very select, easily controlled few. They don't want a free market; they want total compliance through financial desperation."

Harry frowned, thinking of Gringotts, of his own vault, and then of Ron’s worn, second-hand robes. "But the Light... Dumbledore always talks about equality."

"Dumbledore speaks of tolerance, which is a passive, pathetic substitute for actual justice," Voldemort sneered softly, stopping just inches from Harry. He reached out, a pale, elegant hand hovering just short of Harry’s cheek, the soul-bond humming with a fierce warmth between them. "Look at how they treat non-humans. The werewolves, the vampires. Under Fudge’s administration, spurred on by fools like Umbridge, they are legally classified as 'near-human status'—a bureaucratic term used to strip them of the right to own property, hold legal employment, or to carry a wand."

Harry blinked, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "They can't work?"

"No. They are forced into the margins, starved, and then hunted when they inevitably turn to illegal means to survive," Voldemort explained, his tone dropping to a dangerous, compelling whisper. "The Ministry creates the very monsters it claims to protect the public from, all to justify its bloated security budgets and maintain an atmosphere of fear. It is a beautifully toxic cycle of control. They preach peace, Harry, but they practice systemic execution. Tell me, does that sound like the 'Light' side you think is worth dying for?"

Posting this purge as a wip just to be safe bc im a bit busy! ill post the full version later on my ao3:)

enjoy!

Harry Potter had never felt complete. He had always felt like he was missing something.

When he was a child, he thought he was missing love. When those letters kept flying in to inform him he was a wizard, he thought he had been missing magic. When he arrived at Hogwarts, only to find himself still incomplete, he thought he was missing a magical bond.

All in all, all his life, Harry has been searching for something to complete him. Something that could fix this hole in his heart which made him act so cold and apathetic.

One day, he thought he had finally found it. When he stole Weasley's journal from her bag, and held the object to his chest, he felt like apart of him was finally reunited. But it wasn't enough, it wasn't quite right, and when faced with the matter of life or death and possibly being framed for murder, Harry had no choice but to put an end to the small remedy.

A few years later, when Cedric had laid dead just a few steps away from him and a monstrosity had come out of the cauldron in front of him, Harry felt more complete than he had his entire life. The feeling overtook him, so similar to what he had felt with Tom, but emphasised tenfold. And yet, that feeling of recognition had been quickly replaced by rage and anger — though he had had no idea where those had come from.

Back at the beginning of the maze, Harry had felt both horrified and overjoyed faced with what had just happened. He couldn't wait to see Voldemort again.

Later, much to late in his upbringing for Harry's liking, Dumbledore had finally explained to him what Horcruxes were and what his mission was concerning them. Harry had quickly filed away his 'goal', the one given by Dumbledore, as unnecessary, since he had finally connected the dots concerning his and Voldemort's situation.

Voldemort had a part of Harry's soul within him.

He contained what Harry had been looking after all this time.

After hours of research, Harry had come to the conclusion that it was impossible to retrieve one's soul from the object holding the Horcrux. It could only be destroyed. And there was no way in hell Harry was letting that happen.

So, he decided that his goal going forward was no longer — though it had never really been — destroying the Horcrux and killing Voldemort, but instead making sure that the Dark Lord understood he was now his, and that Harry was never letting him go. When he started having dreams, seeing what Voldemort was doing through his very eyes, Harry found himself thinking the task might be surprisingly easy.

Harry then set out to take on every opportunity he had to get closer to Voldemort. Every time he heard word of him going somewhere, he'd figure out a plan, trying to go to that event as well. Of course, it didn't work every time — Harry did still have schoolwork and was, technically, obligated to stay within Hogwarts grounds, so he couldn't exactly do as he wished.

However, one night, he finally found an excuse to confront Voldemort. All of the previous times, he had stayed near, enjoying the feeling of being close to his soul, but hadn't went to see Voldemort directly, as he had understood that the man wanted him dead. Still, Harry was convinced that the Dark Lord would come to understand once everything was explained to him.

This time was different, as Harry had gotten a vision of Weasley's father being attacked in the Ministry. He knew that, in this case, other powerful people would be willing to come with him, and there was little chance Harry would actually die. So, Harry screamed out to everyone that Weasley's father was being attacked, and just a few hours later, he found himself at the Ministry.

At first, Harry was mad. Or rather, frustrated. The vision he had had had been fake, made up by Voldemort and sent to Harry's mind. This meant that, firstly, Voldemort and his familiar were not at the Ministry, and, secondly, that Voldemort had figured out the bond and was still trying to kill Harry. However, he was also fascinated at his Horcrux's magical powers when it came to minds.

Purge but also an actual wip. Posted to be safe but I'll post the full version on ao3!

Purge : "No Longer You"

He had thought all of this would be over. The threats, the harassment, the disappointed look on his friend's face… He had thought that if he just got over it, told the Order and the world that he refused to kill Voldemort, someday, everything would settle down.

Of course, he had known that it would take time. That the people who hadn't settled into their new life yet would be angry for a while, but that they would end up living their lives, like everybody else. At first, Harry had been one of those angry people. But then, he had just wanted to live his life and be left alone, which was honestly a pretty easy fit.

Voldemort's rule wasn't like he had expected it to be at all. It wasn't full of wars or genocides. Instead — after he had gotten the power and managed to keep on with his issues without having to follow his follower's wants — it was actually quite an uneventful, safe for the changes in politics, life to be lived.

At least, to Harry, not having to fight in wars and see his friends die all the time was definitely an improvement. But then again, he was a little biased.

Even though the war had ended, and Harry no longer had to fight, he still had to be involved in diplomatic relations. The Order didn't like that very much — as they liked when Harry just showed his face without stating his opinion — but when faced with the choice of losing their symbol for the Resistance, they accepted.

This led to Harry getting to know Voldemort and his ideas a little bit more. While he still wasn't on board with the extreme violence, he found that he mostly agreed with the ideas Voldemort had — not including the ones he had followed because of his followers.

Eventually, as their private meetings became more frequent, Harry got a liking for the Dark Lord. He was the person that he liked having these discussions the most with, because he felt like they actually understood each other. When he found out that he was Voldemort's Horcrux, he realised that he couldn't keep this peaceful life of his, which he had only lived for a few months, if he killed Voldemort. The good news was that he didn't want to anymore.

So, Harry made an easy choice. Or at least, when he made it, he thought it was rather easy. Voldemort's reign brought no further suffering than before, Harry didn't want Voldemort to die, no one wanted Harry to die… Quite obvious, if you asked him.

I've corrected this a little. It's readable now. Still not so proud of it, but I hope you enjoy!

Purge XL : "I regret it"

The dungeons of Hogwarts were never kind to those who wandered them at night, but for Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, the darkness felt like an old companion. One, like an ancient deity, that whispered truths they weren’t ready to face.

The duel had been Harry’s fault. He knew it. The reckless spell, the poorly controlled magic, the way the red-haired Slytherin had crumpled to the ground, clutching his arm as it smoked from the misfired Reducto. Harry had healed him quickly, his hands shaking as he poured magic into the wound, but the damage wasn’t just physical. The look in the boy’s eyes—betrayal, fear—had seared itself into Harry’s memory.

The boy had come here out of pure ego. He had nothing to do with either Harry or Tom. He probably didn't think anything truly dangerous would happen. They were on Hogwarts grounds, after all.

Tom had been silent since the boy — he didn't even know his name — had taken his last breath. Not the furious silence of a scolding, but something worse: the quiet of a storm that had already passed, leaving only ruin in its wake. He stood with his back against the damp stone wall, his fingers tracing the edge of his wand, his expression unreadable.

Harry swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Tom’s laugh was a sharp, brittle thing. “Didn’t you? Or did you just not care enough to stop?”

The words landed like a slap. Harry flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Tom’s voice was dangerously soft. “What’s fair about any of this, Potter? You waltz in here, the hero of the hour, the boy who lived—my boy who lived—and suddenly you think you can play with death?" He scoffed. "As if you had any control of yourself, and of that crazy magic of yours."

Harry’s jaw tightened. “I do control myself.”

“Do you?” Tom pushed off the wall, his movements fluid, like a snake stalking its prey. “Then why does it always end like this? Why do you always end up hurting people?”

Harry’s hands clenched into fists. “Because of you, Tom. Because you push me. Because of—” Harry stopped, realising he was about to say too much. Tom looked at him, waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

After a few seconds, Tom spoke again. “You are the one who started this. You are the one who travelled through time, trying to play with fate, and, for what? So that you could see me again? You've never actually told me why you did all this, you know, Potter?" Harry looked at the ground, unable to meet Tom in the eyes. "I really hope all of this will have been worth it. Because now you've killed an innocent boy.”

Harry finally looked up at him. He could see the dissimilated satisfaction in Tom's eyes — hidden in a way that he had seen many time in his future-self. He knew that the Slytherin didn't actually care about the boy's death, he was just afraid of what Harry was capable of.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Harry said quietly. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. How to deal with you or them, so that they don't figure me out. And with all this power that I have know…”

Tom stilled. For a moment, Harry thought he saw something flicker in his eyes—something like vulnerability. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. “Of course you don't. No one would.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Harry wanted to reach for him, to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, but the words stuck in his throat. Because Tom was right. Harry did let things spiral. He acted first and thought later, and it always ended in disaster.

Tom turned away, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow given form. “Go back to your golden Gryffindor friends, Potter. Before I decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Harry’s chest ached. He wanted to scream, to demand that Tom listen, that he understand that this—this—was the last thing Harry had wanted. But the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, he knew the truth: Tom didn’t want to understand. Not really.

As he climbed the stairs back to the castle, Harry’s fingers brushed the cold stone wall, grounding himself in the present. The dungeons stretched behind him, dark and unforgiving, just like the choices he’d made. Choices that had led him here, to this moment of regret, this place where love and pain twisted together like vines around a broken tree.

He didn’t know if Tom felt the same hollow ache in his chest. He didn’t know if Tom even remembered what it was like to feel anything at all. But as Harry walked into the flickering torchlight of the corridor, one thought burned brighter than the rest:

I'm back with another purge. I really didn't want to write today because of how hot it was at my place, but this was a purge XL so I had to write this for my future self's sake.

The prompt was "International Tea Day" and this came in mind. It's very very simple and probably not worth a read but it is 500 words! Still - hope you enjoy :)

Voldemort had been sitting at his desk, rummaging through neatly organised piles of paper when a knock came at his door. "Come in," he answered, having felt the pull of his Horcrux getting nearer.

As expected, Harry Potter walked into the room, carrying with him a tray with a cup of tea and some biscuits to go alongside it. The food was unexpected but not unwelcomed. Usually, Harry would ask for one of the elves to bring Voldemort something to eat around 5, knowing not to disturb his husband in the middle of the day. Plus, he is usually is as much face down in his work as Voldemort.

Harry greeted him with a smile and placed the tray down on the table near Voldemort's desk. He walked towards him and said, "Hey, darling. How's today going?"

"Alright," Voldemort replied calmly. He put his quill down and leaned back in his chair, focusing on Harry. "You don't usually come in at this time of the day."

"I know. But I went to do some shopping today to continue on our little tradition," Harry explained, a small smile still tugging at his lips. Voldemort's eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what tradition Harry was referring to. Then, as he took in a deep breath and smelled the tea that had been brought to him, he understood.

Every year, on International Tea Day, Harry and Voldemort bought the other's favourite tea, to have a small batch of them which would last for about a year. This had been started two years into their relationship, when they had coincidentally went on to buy the leaves for one another. Since then, without fault, neither of them had forgotten — until today.

Voldemort stayed silent for a few moments, looking at the cup of tea seated on the tray with a distant look. "I," he started, hesitating. "I didn't realise what day it was."

"It's alright," his husband replied, drawing the Dark Lord's attention once more. "I know how busy you've been."

Voldemort shook his head and stood up. "You have been incredibly busy too, now that you have taken on your position at the Ministry on top of teaching. This is no excuse."

Harry raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "My occupations are far different and require much less work and time than yours. You're managing diplomatic affairs, a country's economics, rebel sides… You can't compare your work to mine."

No one said a word for a few moments. While Voldemort didn't apologise out loud, Harry could feel the weight his eyes bore and leaned up to kiss his husband, as a gesture of forgiveness. Voldemort sighed at the contact between him and his beloved. His hands went up to hold his cheeks, and he deepened the kiss slightly before pulling back.

"You should get back to work," Harry told him, but decided not to leave the room. Instead, he apparated some work papers of his own and settled down next to Voldemort, reviewing over them while Voldemort unsuccessfully tried to forget their interaction.

This is my submission for both the Purge (yearning) and Purge XL (Fairy Tales Retelling AU) launched on the same day! Had another idea but would've taken me too long to write, so you get this :) Enjoy<3

Far in the ocean, a little mermaid lived.

As all his siblings before him, he was allowed his first glimpse of the human world on his fifteenth birthday. From afar, he saw the most beautiful man he ever will — the Prince of the Uplands.

Submerged by his beauty, the Mermaid went on to ask everyone for every last bit of information the people have on him. With every fact given to him, the little mermaid fell in love just a little deeper. Until, one day, a ship came.

The Little Mermaid, who had been watching not so far, spotted the Prince, Harry, rather quickly. He stayed nearby, observing every movement the royal made, until something struck the ship and it began sinking.

The Little Mermaid, worried for the Prince's safety, swam as fast as he could to recover Harry's body and bring it to the shore, where he would be saved. Someone came to grab him and bring him back at the castle the Little Mermaid was now seeing up-close, and the sea-creature went back to its home, comforted by the Prince's well-being.

Seeing the Prince up-close and where he lived made the Little Mermaid even more interested into being able to live with him. He beg his father, the King of the Sea, who strictly forbid him from ever trying such a thing.

Feeling lost, and with no other option, the Little Mermaid went to see the Sea Witch, who proposed for him a bargain, "Give me your heart, and I will give you legs."

The Little Mermaid, not understanding the implications, accepted the deal, although being aware that he might never see his siblings again as the Witch had explained that he would never turn back into a mermaid again.

However, as he arrived to the shore he had left his Prince at, the Little Mermaid felt no remorse. He drank the potion, and arrived naked and unconscious to the place he now belonged.

The next time the Little Mermaid awoke, he was in a room, unlike one he had ever seen before.

Much to the Little Mermaid's content, Prince Harry was the first person to have noticed him being awake. When asked for his name, the Little Mermaid borrowed the name no one knew his father by, and called himself Tom.

The two lived good months together, despite one thing having bothered Tom. It seemed that, try as hard as he might, the Mermaid was unable to feel affection towards anyone but his beloved Prince. Instead, he felt much resentment towards them, especially jealousy when it came to the women trying to steal his Harry.

But this did not matter much to Tom. He was sure that all of Harry's affection was cast towards him, and that feeling was confirmed even further when the Prince told his father, "I will only marry the person who saved me that fateful day, for I have fallen in love with them."

Tom, having known that this very person is him, felt incredibly reassured in that he would be the only subject of love in Harry's eyes.

One day, a Princess arrived. She claimed to have been the one to have saved Tom all those moons ago, despite not even having been in the Uplands at the time of the incident.

However — handsome and kind as he might be, Harry stays a foolish human — the Prince believed the woman and made the decision to marry her. This pleased his father, who was more than happy to let Harry marry a princess out of love for her.

On the other hand, Tom felt an unwavering feeling of pure rage for this princess. His rage reaches mountains so high that he resorts to committing what his father had taught him to be the worst act a living being can do, killing the usurper.

Although Tom had tried to make the act as secret as he could, he did not manage to bear the guilt he felt over having made his Prince grieve. Whilst trying to comfort him, the Little Mermaid slipped, and let it know that she was not worthy of him.

The King soon understood who had killed the traitorous Princess, and had him imprisoned, then put on trial for treason. The Little Mermaid, who tried to explain he was the one the Prince had fallen in love with, was sentenced to death by drowning, as ironic as it may be.

The day of the sentence, Tom was put on a boat and sailed in the ocean he once called home. Along on board with him was the King and his forever lasting love, who looked at him with confusion and fondness both during the entire journey. The Little Mermaid did all he could to try and convince him of the truth, but the guards surrounding him were hard to deal with.

Once the Little Mermaid was about to be sent to see, his sisters appeared in the sea and offered him a deal, just as the Sea Witch had before. "If you drink this potion, you will gain back your tail once more. It will come at the price of a royal, whose death will come from your hands, and of your eternal place in Heaven."

Tom immediately refused, as he would rather die and gain his place in Heaven with Harry by his side, someday, for all of eternity, than have to kill his one true love and lose him forever.

After his refusal, a fatal hit was launched upon him by the King, making the Little Mermaid go unconscious. The Prince, who had been shocked at the mermaids' encounter and the revelation that his beloved had not lied, killed his father in a fit of rage and love for the Mermaid. He then took the vial offered by Tom's siblings and forcefully fed it to the man, who slowly turned back into his original form.

With the mermaids' help, Tom was thrown back to the sea where he would recover his health in the span of a few days.

Hi everyone! Another purge post. I decided to post this here and not on ao3 because i really want to make a longfic out of this, so I'm counting this as more of a WIP / outline than a real work. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Purge : abandon

They had won the war. Peace was restored, the Wizarding World continue on to prosper, and gained even more technological progress than before thanks to the acceptation of Muggle technology. Hermione had become Prime Minister, Ron became an Auror, and Harry — after careful reflection and almost following Ron in his path — became a Minister, charged of his own department.

Everything was well, and, even though there were many people whom people grieved for many long years, eventually, life returned to being as normal as it could be. However, there was one person, as he often is, who became the exception to that rule. Harry Potter.

After having defeated the Dark Lord, Harry only became more famous and envied by the people of Wizarding Britain. This did not please Harry much, but he also understood. People needed a saviour, someone to look up to, and what if he needed to start wearing tinted glasses and a hoodie in public? That wasn't the end of the world.

The one thing that truly disturbed Harry, was having to take care of Voldemort. And eventually falling in love with him. But honestly, that part was Harry's fault. The boy had refused to actually kill him, to raise his wand and perform a spell so powerful that it would take the Dark Lord's life. Of course, no one had to know. His friends largely helped him in disarming Voldemort, and many powerful people from the Order set up wards all around a manor, which also became Harry's residence, to keep Voldemort there.

But, outside of Harry's close friends and people from the Order, no one knew of Voldemort's true predicament, and it was best that it would remain that way. Harry had a little bit of trouble keeping from the entire Wizarding population that the greatest Dark Lord to ever live was still alive. He felt like he was betraying them, and with the very powerful job he had, he felt like he was just continuing the tradition of politicians lying to the people. But, as Hermione kept reminding him, there was no other choice. Except if Harry wanted to kill him now, of course.

Harry reassured himself by telling himself that, having had all of his Horcruxes destroyed, Voldemort would eventually die of old age. And, with how weak he had becoming by having had his soul ripped in 7 pieces, it was quite obvious that the wizard wouldn't stay alive for much longer.

Whilst that had been a reassuring thought at the time, less than 10 years after the fact, Harry started dreading that information, and the fact that Voldemort would surely die soon, with how weak he came to be.

It had been hard, at the start, having to take care of the man who ruined his childhood, took his parents away from him, and who would haunt his dreams forever. But as time went on, he found that he had grown to like the man. And, after years of spending holidays together, cooking for one another, and bonding with each other… Harry could feel himself starting to fall in love with the one he once called his enemy.

Of course, it was hard to tell whether his feelings were reciprocated, or not. While Voldemort had definitely softened to Harry, he still wasn't going telling everyone or showing how he felt. So, he didn't say anything. Not to his friends, not to Voldemort, not to anyone.

About 15 years into this arrangement, Voldemort started getting seriously, dangerously ill. Harry started having dreams of living alone, in that empty house, with no one to share his day's trouble at his side. So, even though he had promised himself to let Voldemort die peacefully when the time would come, he decided to instead hire a healer, which he then swore to secrecy.

Harry thought that trying to keep Voldemort alive, practically betraying all of his friends and family, would make him feel this immense feeling of guilt. But there was none of it. Instead, Harry felt relieved and happy, and knowing that Voldemort wouldn't have wanted to die anyway, he was in no way scared when the man woke up from a long slumber.

Thanks to Harry's actions, Voldemort kept on living for another 20 years. In that time, Harry finally found the courage to confess his love to the former Dark Lord. And, thank Merlin, he found that his feeling were, in fact, reciprocated. The two didn't get an official wedding, or a grand ceremony, but Harry was thankful and happy for every year that he got to spend with Voldemort, and the latter thought the same.

But, as all good things, and especially in the life of Harry Potter, this happiness had to come to an end. The 25th of April 2033, Voldemort took his last breath, and left the world as peacefully as anyone could — in his sleep, with his beloved by his side.

Harry was devastated. People didn't understand why. Only his closest of friends, Ron and Hermione, had had some suspicions of how his relationship with Voldemort truly was going. Hermione agreed for Harry to take a period of absence, and the latter used of it to make the most of grievance.

When he came back to work, still exhausted and feeling like he was missing a piece of himself, the workload and responsibilities that were put onto his shoulders turned out to be too much. He couldn't handle all of this work, all of this fame, all of this hiding while Voldemort wasn't by his side. He had no one to come home to, to complain to, to take care of, to talk to, to fight with, to make love to, and that tore him from the inside out.

This work is still a W.I.P.. I am posting it here as to be able to complete the purge!<3

Purge XL : Isekai

Harry sighed as he finally open up the door of one of the many abandoned classrooms that resided Hogwarts, and made his way in. Having had to escape from his friends' questioning of the note he had received earlier was more exhausting than he had imagined it would be, but he had made it. After all, he couldn't risk his secret getting out now that he had battled his entire day trying to get out of questioning glances.

He entered the room, and closed the door behind him, expecting Tom Riddle to be standing next to the front desk of the classroom but finding no one. He cast a Tempus charm which revealed it to be exactly 2:00PM, exactly the time the note had told him to be here.

Harry found this weird. If there was one thing he knew for sure had not changed with Riddle, it was that he was always on time. So, were the hell was he? He hadn't threatened to reveal the fact that Harry is a parstletongue to the entire school just for funsies, had he?

Just as Harry was about to storm out of the room on his way curse Riddle in the worst way possible, the door opened behind him. He immediately turned around with an insult ready to be fired from his lips, but was met with the sight of the new student instead of Riddle's.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up but he finally made sense of the situation. Tom Riddle was planning to trick him using the new fourth year as some kind of bait. Unfortunately for him, Harry was not about to let this happen.

Harry took a step forward and offered his hand for the new student to take. "Hey! Eliott, right?"

"That's me! You're Harry Potter, I imagine?", Eliott answered.

"Indeed. Was Tom Riddle the one who told you to be here?" The student hummed positively in response. "You should know that he's not always one to be trusted."

"I thought you two were friends," replied Eliott.

Harry pulled a face at the comment. "We used to be. Now it's more like we tip-toe around each other."

"Oh. How come you two aren't friends anymore, then?"

"Well—" Harry started, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door both students had come from opening up again. When Harry looked to see who it was, he was greeted with the late presence of Tom Riddle. The Slytherin closed the door behind him. "How nice of you to show up," Harry said in lieu of a cold greeting.

Riddle raised an eyebrow at him, before glancing at Eliott, then staring back at Harry. "Excuse my tardiness in responding to your threat." Harry blinked twice, confused. "Slughorn had me occupied."

"What do you mean my threat to you?" Harry asked. "You're the one who sent me a note."

The raised eyebrow was back, only this once it was accompanied by a look of confusion. Then, slowly, they both turned to look at Eliott, who was smiling widely at the both of them. "Alright, alright," he started. "It was me who sent out the notes. I just didn't know how else to get the both of you here at the same time!"

Harry could see Riddle, from the corner of his eyes, start taking out his wand, and he prepared himself to have to go the same. After all, how had Eliott known that Harry was a parstletongue? That was something only he and Riddle knew, which is why he thought the note was from him. As for Riddle… There was a hundred different things that note could have said, and Harry could bet it was nothing good.

Eliott pointedly noticed both older students' hands reaching for their wands and took a step back. "Before the two of you ask," he started again, his tone cautious. "The only reason that I knew those things I threatened you about in these notes is because I'm not from this world."

A long silence followed Eliott's confession. Both wizards looked at the new student as if he had said the most incomprehensible ever.

"I'm sorry," slowly said Tom Riddle, still in disbelief. "What?"

Eliott winced, understanding the confusion but having hoped that both characters would have understood the predicament. "I'm from a world, much similar to yours, but where the Wizarding kind does not exist, and you two are actually characters from a series of novels."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"You're lying." Tom refuted, still stuck on the impossibility of travelling between worlds.

"You know," continued Eliott, "I really wish I were. 'Cause I really just want to be able to go back home to go write about you two." The formulation of that sentence didn't seem to register to either of them, Tom still being cautious about this whole thing and Harry trying to wrap his head around it.

"Right, okay," Harry mumbled. "Why don't you just… go back home, then?"

Eliott groaned, and his shoulders dropped. "That's the thing. I can't. And, well, the only possible explanation I have for being sent here is that I was writing at my desk when I hit a wall and was basically unable to continue for lack of motivation. So, I wished that some motivation could come directly from the source. From you two."

"Then you were teleported here?" Tom asked, receiving a nod from Eliott in return. "You said that you hit a dead end, when writing? You may need to accomplish that action here to be able to go back home and write about it."

Eliott nodded along all while Riddle was talking, then replied, "Yes, that's what I thought too. And that's why I sent these notes to you two to get you both here."

Both Griffondor and Slytherin raised an eyebrow at the out-worldly man, wondering what they would have to do to send him back, and, most importantly, not have all of their precious secrets revealed.

"You see, when I meant that I was writing about you two," Eliott winced, "I meant that in a romantic way."