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Harry sat alone. The house that once housed Ginny and his children was near empty. Ginny had passed a year ago, and he had to admit it had taken something out of him. He had lost so many people, but this had struck him hard.
He thought of his children. They all had families of their own, and they were supposed to be visiting soon. He sighed.
No one knew he was sick. Ron knew, but he made him swear on his life not to tell anyone. He'd had a good life, and he wanted to go without a fuss. Enough close brushes with death had made him want to go quietly.
He wanted some tea, but he felt too weak to get up. He took out his wand, then stopped. He held the old, etched wood in his hands, then lightly made sparks fly out of the tip.
He smiled. He always loved how still, so many years later, magic still amazed him.
Suddenly, his scar hurt.
He wasn't alarmed by it, nor by the man who had appeared in the corner of the room.
It was Tom Riddle. Not snake-like, pale, and red-eyed. Human. He smiled, not menacingly, but warmly.
Harry smiled as well. "Nice to see you again, Tom."
"Is it nice? I was never much of a warm presence when I was among the living. I hurt many people. But most of all, I tried to hurt you. It's ironic that you were among the few who saw me as Tom Riddle, rather than Lord Voldemort."
"Fear can drive you mad," said Harry. "I've seen it many times."
Tom Riddle smiled again, somewhat sadly. "Harry, we've got to go."
Harry looked at him. There were tears in his eyes.
"I'm scared." he said.
"I know." said another voice.
Harry turned. It was Ginny. He gasped.
Behind her stood every person he had ever loved and lost. Hagrid, and Dumbledore, and Dobby, and Lupin and Tonks and Snape and Cedric and Sirius and even the Dursleys. His parents stood next to Ginny, smiling.
"We're with you, Harry." his mother said softly.
Harry turned to Riddle.
Tom stuck out his hand. "Come, Harry."
Harry laughed, tears in his eyes, his scar burning, as he grabbed Riddle's hand, and then left this world together with Death, as equals.