That glance entered into the memory of Tom and remained there throughout its existence. In every moment of his later life, when he closed his eyes and went back to that day, see those blue eyes, wet with tears, compassionate look, a look frighteningly similar to what Dumbledore had given him in the afterlife, when he had received after the defeat of Hogwarts. Found he could not stand that look. He could endure the hatred that he had seen at the beginning, but not that. Hatred knew him, and he realized at that moment to try it for himself with the same intensity. But he could not feel sorry for himself, he could not forgive.
took the decision in a moment, instinctively. Made him a spell of memory, delete the meeting from the mind of the boy, and the other was left bewildered at the moment to look at anything, he sent the books on the shelves with a gesture, dissolved the seals at the entrance of the library and fled, the heart full of despair with no possibility of redemption. He returned to the hotel and had the luggage, materializing at the lighthouse, across the ocean in the middle of the night.
went on the highest terrace of the lighthouse, watching the sea. He stood in the cold all night, mind in turmoil, watching the sea rush on the rocks beneath him, his hands clutching the railing. Everything inside him was screaming, a desperate cry of horror. Breathing hard, panting, and every breath he called him into the abyss, to put an end to all that suffering with a flight to the rocks. And yet hang on to the railing, tense muscles in agony, unable to make the jump and unable to go back inside, the heat and his life, which now seemed absurdly meaningless. How could he have thought of a new life, how could he believe he could leave everything behind and start over? He had been killed, and was just like that, it was not fair that a man as he lived. He had the right.
came dawn to watch this little human being on the brink of the abyss. The sun rose indifferent to touch the face and Cletus he found his way to make the tour of inspection to the lamp, which still lay motionless, watching the sea, overwhelmed. The little elf called him a few times and received no answer, not realizing that had happened. Then he did the only thing that occurred to him to do, the only one who was able to do for men, since she was born.
took his hand, gently, smiled, looking at him and said, "Come in, Tom ... take cold. We make breakfast now. "
The magician felt the warmth of his hand and looked on without seeing the little elf. But he shook my hand, and finally something broke in him. He dropped sitting next to him, hugged him and for the first time in his adult life he abandoned himself to tears in the presence of another living being. She wept bitterly, sobbing, while the little elf, but without understanding, holding him and gave him pats pats on the back. Let him cry until he wanted, then when he heard the magician's body melt against his tired, depleted and exhausted, both materialized in the living room near the couch. He sat down next to the magician, that sank to the ground with eyes closed, and stood there holding his two hands between his own, leaned her head against his chest.
The magician fell asleep without realizing it, to wake up hours later on the couch, covered with a blanket, stripped of clothes for the trip. The little elf was beside him, reading a comic, and was placed on the table in front of a self-heating tray on which lay a carafe of hot chocolate and cookies Cletus.
Cletus was looking to give an explanation as to why he had not thrown in the air, the night before. He could not do it. Cletus knew exactly who it was, was raised in a family of dark wizards, was well aware its history. Yet she loved him anyway, for what it was now. That made sense or not, love that little elf had kept him anchored to the railing, preventing him to throw underneath. The magician, with a choked voice, told him what had happened, and the elf listened intently.
"But now you are no longer Voldemort. Are you Tom, that's all. Make peace with Voldemort, and be Tom. It is Tom that Cletus and all your friends love you. Voldemort is dead and you killed him, "he said, laying the long gnarled index on the heart. "Non-Harry Potter. He killed Voldemort's body, but do you have killed the rest, when I met you. You are Tom and you have a library and a lighthouse to deal with. " nodded, sure, and then fed him like a child, and when he was satisfied with what he had eaten ordered him to stay still. The magician, unable to argue, let rock, and shortly before sinking back into sleep, she heard him mutter a children's song. He smiled, just a moment before falling asleep. Whatever the reason was back in life, whatever were the horrors of his past, as it failed to address them, Cletus was right.
As usual.
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