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Memento Mori

Summary:

Everyone dies.

No one is an exception.

Those were the words that Cordelia Alder lived by, those words reminded her how precious life is and those were the words that Tom Riddle remembered the day he died, until he didn't.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

"I shall but love thee better after death"

'Sonnet 43'

Elizabeth Barrett Browning


Prologue


A cloaked pale man marched on ahead. On his tail were similarly dressed figures, all dressed in black but unlike the pale snake-like man, these figures wore silver ornate masks that covered their faces, stripping them of their identity. They marched on with their wands out, following their lord.

Memories swirled in front of the eyes of the pale snake-like man as he marched onwards to his end goal. It was only a matter of time before he had what he wanted in his hand. He had already gained immortality. Though it took him unsavoury and dark means to get to his goals, he, the heir of Slytherin and the last of his bloodline had gone and done the impossible.

Soon, Tom Riddle, no, Lord Voldemort would defeat destiny. The boy who lived was near his grasp and near death. He, himself, was near-immortal. The horcruxes worked. His looks and sanity were but a small sacrifice. Killing the boy who lived would be easy.

"Forever is a long time, Tom." He heard a familiar voice, he hadn't heard in decades. The cloaked man froze in his place.

One of his faceless, masked followers looked up at him in confusion. "My lord." The Dark Lord put a hand up, hushing his follower. His dark eyes darted around for a sign of the ghost of a woman that still haunted him despite his endless attempts to banish her from his memories. A simple solution would've been to erase her completely from his memories with a spell but something always held him back, he didn't know what.

Was it the lingering attachment Tom had for those times?

Was it the affection he might've felt for her?

He didn't know.

"It's lonely too." The voice continued as if the owner was walking away from him.

"Cora..." The Dark Lord mumbled under his breath but the voice made no response to him. He half-expected for her to show herself. His only friend, the only one he truly considered a friend, once upon a time when he still resembled something of a man. "Cora?" He repeated but the voice had grown quiet as if it was afraid of him.

Suddenly he heard familiar youthful laughter. It was so familiar and so close that he had to look around. It was him. The familiar laughter was his own.

"Oh, but death is lonelier, Cora." His younger self responded, sounding so full of himself but he had life in him and there was a tinge of joy in his tone as if he actually enjoyed speaking to the other person.

The Dark Lord gripped his wand tight and looked around. His followers jumped into action, following his lead, looking for what their Lord was looking for but in the dark woods, they found nothing. They looked to their lord but the serpent-like man was lost in his memories.

His mind was playing tricks on him again.

How long had it been since he had felt this feeling?

This sinking feeling of sudden despair. He had sworn that he had lost his ability to feel anything once he started dabbling in dark arts. When he first split his soul, he started to feel numb. It didn't take her long to notice, she always noticed the little changes about him and he about her. When he kept on diving in, she distanced herself and went her own way. He let her as he became numb to everything.

"But in death you can be reunited with those you lost." Cora's voice whispered in his ears.

No.

He didn't want to be reunited with her or anyone. His father abandoned his mother and him. His mother abandoned him. The one person who swore would never abandon him disappeared without a single trace. His only friend, someone who was more than a friend and the closest he had to family was gone, nobody knew where she went. They all thought it was him but for once it wasn't.

He didn't want to be reunited with them at all.

"You know they say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die." A soft voice carefully spoke, leaning close to Tom but still keeping her distance.

Tom snorted and shook his head. "Well, that's never going to happen to me."

"Why? Is it because there's nothing memorable in your life?" She sounded a little offended, thinking she wasn't special to him after all.

"No." He turned away from her and snapped his book shut, getting up and turning away from the voice. "Because I'll never die."

The girl in his memories stared up at him, unmoving. Her eyes trembled and hands shook. "Don't be silly, Tom." She laughed nervously, looking away from him and putting even more distance between the two. "Everyone dies. No one is an exception, not me and certainly not you..."

Harry Potter, who he thought was dead, rose from the dead and the two fought to the end. He had the elder wand, he had the upper hand at least it was what he believed but fate was a funny thing. In minutes, years of progress he had built up unravelled and the boy-who-lived won their last duel.

How ironic?

He ran so far from death and decay, only to perish at the ripe age of just seventy-one. He could picture the unaged face of his only friend laughing at him for his prolonged foolishness. Cordelia would call him an insane fool like she did that night if she saw him now.

Crazed laughter almost escaped him but he was too tired to laugh, to move or to do anything. Perhaps it was time for him to rest.

His body had shrivelled up, turning him to the old man he was meant to be but he kept on ageing until finally his skin began to crack and break. The old man with a wistful smile on his face, closed his eyes as his body turned to dust. A strong gust of wind blew past him, taking pieces of him with him.

There was nothing left.

The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort was dead and Tom Riddle who fought to leave his mark was turned to dust.

Tom awoke with a start as he gasped for air clutching his chest. His eyes darted around the plain fields, searching for something.

First, he was surprised that he wasn't alone and second he noticed that it was bright outside, brighter than what he remembered. His hands were still gripping his chest when Tom carefully picked himself up and wiped his grass-stained trousers.

Slowly, he approached his company, a little girl of what looked to be eight or seven with her back turned to him. Her messy brown hair was in two plaits. She seemed too busy to notice his presence as she sat on the grass field with a pile of flowers next to her that to Tom looked more like weeds. She seemed to be busy making a crown or a wraith of flowers.

She paused and sat up straight when he sensed her. "Tom?" She called out, turning around to meet the boy.

"Cordelia?" He called out to her as he grabbed her by her shoulders and gently shook her.

"I'm here Tom." Cordelia lazily looked up at one of her only friends at Wool's. Her bright blue eyes stared into his dark ones before she looked back down. "Did you fall asleep while I was talking again?" She asked instead, turning away from him. It appeared to Tom that she was not in the best of moods as she continued to work on her crown of flowers.

He nodded once, not making any excuses before laying back down but this time on Cordelia's knees which were splayed out in front of her. "Cora, I had the strangest dream." Cordelia nodded, listening to him. She was a little surprised that her friend had decided to share something voluntarily without being pushed.

"What was it about?" Cordelia put the half-finished crown of daisies down on the grass floor and leaned down on Tom who reached out for her. She was someone who was curious about dreams and right now she really wanted to know what Tom's dream was about but he never answered.

Instead, he gently touched her face in response and closed his eyes as he smiled peacefully.