by DrT - Sahits

Chapter III
In the silence that followed Harry question, Harry merely stared at the Headmaster. Finally, Harry
said, "Well? Voldemort is vulnerable. Do we go and kill his snake? Then I can break the last
Horcrux and I can destroy the little piece that is Voldemort. Or do we continue the farce of a
tournament, let him kidnap me, restore his body, and then I do it?"
"Harry. . . ." Remus almost sobbed. Harry saw that Hermione was actually crying.
"I have to do it, Remus," Harry said, moving to stand beside Hermione and letting her hold him
close as she cried against his side. "I don't like it, but I must. So tell me, Headmaster, if I kill
Voldemort in the form he's in now, would I destroy him? Or do I have to wait until he's in a slightly
more real body?"
The Headmaster shook himself and looked at Harry. "What are the forms made of? Do you know?"
Dumbledore finally asked.
"His current form was made mostly by dark magic, blood from innocents (whatever that means),
and mostly from Nagini's mutated venom. His restored body would be made from his current form
combined with the bone of his father, the flesh of his servant -- meaning Pettigrew -- and my
blood."
"The latter would certainly be mortal once the last Horcrux is destroyed. His current form likely
would merely free his essence again, much as Professor Quirrell's death did."
"I was afraid of that, but I wasn't sure," Harry said. He looked at Hermione. "Hermione. . . ." he
started.
"Don't you dare," Hermione said through her tears, looking up at him and holding him tightly, the
side of her face still against his stomach. The look on her face nearly broke Harry's heart. "Don't
you dare offer to release me from your promise, Harry James Potter." It was only then that Remus
noticed the shape of the ring on her left hand. "I've been torn this last year between you and Ron,
and even if everyone will think I'm too young, I won't change my mind. I knew, even in our First
year, how special you are, and everything I've learned just makes you more special to me."
Harry conjured a silk handkerchief from nothing -- N.E.W.T. quality work -- and handed it to
Hermione. "I won't lose you this time," he said.
"This time?" Dumbledore demanded.
"Exactly," Harry said. "I won the war, despite every obstacle you managed to put in my way,
despite your being murdered by your pet project at the end of my Sixth year. I won because
Hermione is actually the most brilliant witch this century and because when it came to fighting
Voldemort I was as lucky as I was powerful and I was slightly more powerful than him, just as he's
slightly more powerful than you. I won, but the wizarding world lost. The Pure-Blood fence sitters,
the Percy Weasleys, took over and implemented most of the Pure-Blood agenda, claiming that it
was Riddle's half-blood status and having been brought up in the Muggle world that contaminated
him and caused all the problems. That caused a civil war. Again, I won. But almost every single
person I cared for was dead, and the few survivors, like George Weasley, were in bad shape and I
wasn't much better off for a few years. I managed to send my memories and my magic back nearly
twenty years into the past, where I combined with the me of a week ago last Friday, a little after
midnight. I am both, with nearly the power of both and the control of the older Harry." Harry
conjured Hermione another handkerchief, so she could finish cleaning herself up.
"Which explains how you won the first task to handily," Dumbledore said.
Harry shrugged. "I won the Tournament last time, too. This time, I'll just make certain Cedric
survives it." Dumbledore winced at that. "Now, does this basically answer the basic questions you
called me here to answer?"