Chapter 171: 8-3
"Has Harry already gone?" I asked the old man. The man, who must have spent an eternity with him in this space between worlds, smiled softly.
"—Should I call you Maria, I wonder?"
"Whatever you prefer."
I sat down on the bench beside Dumbledore in the exact same manner. Beneath the seat, a flayed-looking infant curled into itself, sobbing uncontrollably as if fleeing from the light, as if it had been cast out.
It was a repulsive sight. So wretched, its wails evoking a profound, visceral disgust. It was a form that inspired anger rather than pity in anyone who beheld it. Merely touching it felt as though it would taint my very soul. —Even so.
"Then, I shall simply call you 'you'."
Dumbledore continued as if there were nothing there. Though he knew exactly where my gaze was fixed, he offered no further pursuit on the matter.
"Why have you, too, come to this place? Surely you did not follow Harry."
"No. Harry is returning, so I only needed to see him off."
"And yet, you did not."
I gazed out once more across the pure white world. It was a beautiful place. A pristine place. A place of absolute fulfillment. —Except for the tiny infant cowering beneath the seat.
I leaned down, forcing my hand—which screamed in revulsion, wanting nothing more than to pull away—to slowly reach out toward the child.
"You cannot help. It is beyond your reach."
"Is it?"
"It is. It knows nothing of love. It possesses no heart to love others. Tainted completely by malice, it has lived a hollow existence, never learning how to receive it."
My palms slick with sweat, I stroked its rough, raw skin. I can touch it. —Ah, thank goodness.
I gritted my teeth and lifted the shrieking, grating infant, fighting with all my might the urge to impulsively hurl it away. Biting my lip, I offered a defiant smile to the old man who had already given up on it.
"If he lacks it, I simply have to give it to him. 'If it's empty, you can fill it with whatever you like.'"
"────"
"Those are the words of a friend. It is for this very reason that I die."
Dumbledore’s lips trembled faintly. He made no sound. No words came out. Only his eyes spoke volumes, pleading with me vividly.
"There is nothing I can do as myself. You are right. Because Harry Potter and Voldemort are destined to be enemies. No matter what happens, Harry Potter can never save Voldemort. As long as Harry remains Harry, that wish will never be fulfilled. It is unforgivable. —That is why I, Maria, am here."
Cradling Tom Riddle in my arms, I sat back down on the bench. The goosebumps wouldn't stop. A violent chill enveloped my entire body, racking every inch of me. My mind screamed at me to drop it. Even in this beautiful place, the mere presence of this infant threatened to drag me back to the hell etched into the very depths of my soul.
—Even so. I will not cast him aside. Not this time. Because I am Maria.
"I will take this child with me."
I pulled him close, holding him firmly, managed to let out a breath, and smiled.
"If I do this, you will be able to move on too, won't you?"
"You..."
"You stayed behind in this world, all alone with him, for his sake, didn't you?"
"Maria... no, no, you..."
I stood up, displaying my resolve to Dumbledore, who now looked so frail and worn, every bit the ancient man he was. What neither you nor Harry can do, Maria can. That is the very reason I was born as Maria.
"You ought to despise me."
"Yes, perhaps I should. And yet, I forgive you. —You are the kind of person who suffers more when forgiven, so I forgive you, and I bear no hatred."
Let me be cruel. To these gentle souls. With all my might, playing the part of Maria to the very end.
One step. Two steps. Leaving Dumbledore behind, I walked toward the door. The wall clock in the common room was about to strike midnight. A bright light swept through. The infant in my arms stopped crying.
"Farewell, then. My world. Farewell, you gentle souls. Farewell ────my one and only Harry."
Farewell. The story of Maria Potter.
Now, that would be a problem...
I smiled. The infant was cradled in my arms. Snatched from my arms—only to be cradled in my own arms once again.
"I can't very well let my own role be stolen by myself, now can I? Isn't that right? ────Me (Harry)."
Maria stood there, cradling Tom Riddle, and smiled.
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