Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10075994.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle, Hermione_Granger/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Albus_Dumbledore, Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Luna_Lovegood, Neville
      Longbottom, Other(s), Ron_Weasley, Cho_Chang, Original_Character, Tom
      Riddle, Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Language, Sexual_Content, Spoilers, Alternate_Universe, Angst,
      Tragedy, Drama, Romance
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-01-16 Completed: 2008-04-24 Chapters: 17/17 Words: 116422
****** Killing Me Softly ******
by Mai Warlow [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     What if Harry was too late in saving Ginny from the Chamber of
     Secrets? How will this affect the course of history and the
     relationship between the Boy Who Lived and the young future Dark
     Lord?
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
***** Chapter One - The Heir of Slytherin *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                  Chapter One
                             The Heir of Slytherin
                                        
               “You can discover what your enemy fears most by
                observing the means he uses to frighten you.”
                                 -Eric Hoffer
                                     *****
The tiny thuds of Harry’s feet hitting the dungeon floor echoed throughout the
chamber. His heart pounded with each step, and he tried his best to keep his
gaze straight ahead. On each side of the chamber was a row of gigantic pillar
serpents, although whether or not they truly were just pillars, Harry wasn’t
sure. He thought it was probably best not to look any of them in the eyes just
in case. It looked like one of them had just moved…
Where was Ginny? Harry stopped and concentrated hard. He listened for any sound
that might be coming from Ginny, but heard neither cries nor whimpers. The only
sound was made by the occasional drop of sewage water.
A mass of red hair caught his attention. Ginny lay at the end of the chamber,
unmoving. Harry ran to her, but in his haste to reach her, slipped on the damp
floor and slid, nearly colliding with her. There was a dull pain in his elbow,
but he ignored it. There was a more pressing matter at hand.
“Ginny?” Harry called softly to her, anxious. He turned her over to examine her
pale face. First he tried shaking her gently, then more aggressively. She
didn’t wake or move at all.
Ginny, please don’t be dead! Harry prayed as he shook her again. It was no use.
He tried to pick her up, but he wasn’t that much bigger than she was and her
weight made him stagger and nearly buckled his knees. Instead, he set her back
down and started to drag her back to the tunnel. They were making good progress
until Harry’s foot got caught in the space between two stones on the floor. He
and Ginny went crashing down to the floor.
Harry got up and looked down at her desperately, his eyes watering with dread.
“Ginny, can you hear me?” She didn’t make a sound. Harry touched her hand; it
was cold. Starting to feel helpless, he tried shaking her again.
“She won’t wake,” said a soft voice. Startled that he and Ginny were not alone
in the chamber, Harry looked up. Beside one of the pillars stood a teenage boy.
His black hair and handsome face were instantly recognizable.
“Tom Riddle?” The last time Harry had seen Tom was in the memory contained in
Tom’s diary, a memory from fifty years ago. But now here he stood not a day
over sixteen. He was slightly transparent and glowing with life. A sly little
smile played on his face. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked. “Wait, never
mind that! Tom, you have to help me! The basilisk is coming and I have to get
Ginny out of here!”
“The basilisk will not come until it is called,” Tom Riddle said calmly.
“What do you mean it will not come until it’s called?” Harry said. He tugged at
Ginny again. “How can we get her out of here, Tom? Can you pick her up?”
“I am sorry. I am not yet strong enough,” Tom said. The sides of his mouth
curled.
“Then do you know any good spell I can use to make her lighter?” Harry asked.
“Do you think I could carry her with a Levitation Charm?”
“I know a much better spell.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Harry,” Tom said softly as he bent over a little. “Point your wand at her
chest.” Harry nodded and did as told. “Now, concentrate with all your might and
– Accio wand!”
The wand flew out of Harry’s grip, and Tom snatched it. He laughed in a manner
that did not suit him. It was high and cold, and Harry felt the hair on his
neck stand.
“What spell was that?” Harry asked.
“A Summoning Charm,” Tom answered casually as he twirled the wand between his
long, slender fingers.
“Why did you do that?”
“Just felt like it.” Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“This isn’t funny,” Harry said a little angrily. “Give me back my wand, Tom.”
He reached out for the wand, but Tom drew the wand away from Harry’s reach.
“You won’t need it,” Tom said, and he pocketed it. Harry’s jaw dropped
slightly.
“What’s going on here?” Harry demanded. “How did you get here?”
“I am a memory, Harry Potter. I was preserved in a diary for fifty years.” He
pointed to a small black book not too far from them. Harry squinted his eyes
and recognized the book as Tom’s diary; how did it get here? Something began to
dawn on him…
“Yes, Harry,” Tom said, as though he could read Harry’s mind. “It was Ginny who
took the diary from your room. She set me free.”
“How? Are…were you a ghost?” Harry asked. Tom smirked. He was looking more
solid than he had few moments ago.
“No, Harry, not that kind of memory,” he said, chuckling a little. “I am very
much alive.” His smile widened. “She, however, is not. You’re too late, Harry.
Ginny has been dead for the past half hour. Don’t believe me? Look at her face.
Her lips are turning blue.” Harry felt his heart squeeze as though it were
jammed between two large blocks of ice. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Ginny
was dead. He was too late. He had failed. His hands clenched.
“What happened to her?” Harry asked, his throat constricting. “And you, what do
you mean you’re not a ghost? What else could you be? You were sixteen fifty
years ago!”
Tom continued to smile. “Think of me as a very powerful wizard, Harry.”
There was something odd going on.
“How did Ginny die?” Harry demanded, eyeing the taller boy. “How are you alive
and young?”
“Ginny has been writing in my diary for many months,” Tom explained calmly.
“She wrote down all about how hard it was to be a new student at Hogwarts, her
pathetic fear of not making any friends, how embarrassing it was to wear
second-hand robes, and her worries that you might never like her.” Tom snorted
at that; Harry felt sick.
The way Tom was speaking was very different from the memory of him that Harry
had seen; in the diary Tom had been understanding and kind, but now he was
quite the opposite. “So I fed off her fears and deepest secrets for many
months. It made me strong enough to finally leave the pages of the diary
forever. And it was all thanks to this silly little girl,” Tom continued.
“I trusted you, Tom,” Harry said, his voice shaky. “And Ginny trusted you too!
Why did you do this to her?” Tom bent down so that his eyes were level with
Harry’s.
“Why?” he repeated. “Because Ginny told me everything about you, Harry. Your
entire fascinating history. She was quite taken with you.” His eyes traveled to
the scar on Harry’s forehead. A dangerous look burned in his eyes – a dark,
wide, greedy look – and Harry was almost sure that they were tinged with red.
“She told me that you are famous for defeating the most powerful wizard of all
time: Lord Voldemort. I simply had to meet you. In the meantime, I decided to
return the favor and tell Ginny some of my secrets. I poured a little of myself
into her, just as she poured herself into me.”
Harry eyed Tom suspiciously. “Ginny’s been writing the messages on the walls,
hasn’t she?”
“It took you this long to figure it out?” Tom laughed. “Ginny grew suspicious
of me after a while and tried to dispose of the diary. And then you found it.
You can imagine my joy; I had only to gain your trust, so I showed you the
memory of my capture of that great oaf Hagrid.”
“Hagrid’s my friend!” Harry said angrily. “And why are you so interested in
Lord Voldemort? He was after your time!”
“Lord Voldemort is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter,” Tom explained
softly. He stood up, pulled Harry’s wand out from his pocket, and wrote three
words across the air.
                              Tom Marvolo Riddle
With a flick of his wand, the words began to rearrange themselves:
                              I am Lord Voldemort
Harry felt his heart plummet. He couldn’t stop staring at Tom, the orphaned boy
who grew up to murder Harry’s parents.
“Voldemort? You’re Voldemort?” Harry said, unable to believe this. Tom turned
to look at him, a coy smile plastered on his face.
“I came up with the name Lord Voldemort in the hope of forever severing the
ties that connected me to my father.” Tom’s body tensed with rage. “Did you
honestly think I was going to keep my filthy Muggle father’s name forever?” It
took a moment for Harry to understand what Tom was talking about.
“Of course. Witch mother, Muggle father,” Harry said, remembering what he saw
in Tom’s memory.
“Yes,” replied Tom. “My father was nothing more than a filthy Muggle who left
my mother before I was born, all because he found out she was a witch! My
mother, on the other hand…” He motioned to the statue facing the chamber; it
was of a wizard with long hair and a long beard. “My mother was a direct
descendent of Salazar Slytherin. I am his only remaining heir.”
Harry stared at the statue for a couple of moments before redirecting his gaze
to Tom Riddle. “That’s why you can talk to snakes,” he said, eyes widening in
realization. “That’s what you meant by the basilisk not coming until is called.
You can control the basilisk! And you’re Slytherin’s heir, the same wizard who
wished to wipe out the Muggle-born population at Hogwarts! That’s why you
opened the Chamber of Secrets!”
“Precisely,” Tom whispered. “It had taken me a good five years to find out all
I can about the Chamber of Secrets, but after that Mudblood Myrtle was murdered
it wasn’t safe to open the Chamber any longer. That was why I preserved myself
in the diary, so that one day I could return to finish Slytherin’s work.” His
dark eyes bored into Harry’s. “But recently, killing Mudbloods has not mattered
to me anymore. For many months now, my new target had been you.” Was it just
Harry’s imagination, or had Tom’s eyes momentarily flashed red? “Look at us,
Harry. Surely you also must have noticed the similarities between us. We’re
both orphans, half-bloods, raised by Muggles. We may have been the only two
Parselmouths to enter Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look
a little bit alike. So tell me, how were you able to defeat Lord Voldemort
twice?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “My mother died protecting me; I don’t know why
your future self lost his powers that night!” Tom continued to survey him for a
little while.
“Well then, I suppose this proves it,” said Tom, smirking. “Your mother
sacrificing herself for you … a very powerful countercharm, yes … so there is
nothing special about you despite the similarities between us.” He turned to
the large statue of the Salazar Slytherin. “And now, Harry, I am going to teach
you a little lesson.”
He started speaking to the statue, and Harry heard the familiar hissing sounds
of Parseltongue. “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”
Harry backed away. He almost tripped over Ginny’s body, but caught himself just
in time. He felt vulnerable, naked, without his wand. He had no means to fight
while Tom had his wand and the basilisk. Harry watched shakily as Slytherin’s
mouth slowly opened and something slithered inside. Heart pounding as though it
were about to erupt from his throat, Harry closed his eyes tightly.
“Keep your eyes open, Harry,” Tom commanded calmly. “I promise I will not let
him look at you. I want you to see something.” Should he trust Tom? Harry heard
Tom command the basilisk to close its eyes, and Harry cautiously opened his
own.
The bright green basilisk was about fifty feet long and its mouth was big
enough to fit two Hagrids. The scarlet plume on its head indicated that it was
male.
Tom slowly inched towards the body of Ginny, and he cast Harry a little look
before picking her up.
"What are you going to do to her?" Harry asked as he stared at the tiny corpse
in Tom’s arms. All Tom did was smile, and before Harry could do anything else,
Tom tossed Ginny's body to the basilisk.
"Eat," he commanded.
"No!" Harry screamed, horrorstruck. “What do you think you’re doing?” Tom
turned to Harry, smiling slyly.
"She is dead, Harry," Tom explained softly and slowly as though he were trying
to explain a simple situation to a handicapped child. “She died giving me the
energy to live, so she may as well keep on helping my cause with the generous
donation of her body as well. The poor fellow hasn't eaten human flesh in the
longest time. Look at him, Harry. Can’t you see the look of satisfaction in his
face?”
Harry cast his eyes back on the basilisk. Ginny’s torso and legs were sticking
out from the basilisk’s outstretched jaw.
“A snake’s jaws are loosely connected to its skull by very strong ligaments,”
Tom lectured. “This allows the snake to swallow any food much bigger than
itself. Ginny is not very big, but it will take a while before she is
completely inside. The basilisk will not chew her, but its digestive acids will
do the trick. After consuming, the basilisk will rest in order to conserve
energy during the digestive process.” Harry felt acid rise up his throat. How
could anyone talk about a little girl being eaten without any emotion?
"You're sick!" Harry yelled at him. He was shaking, his eyes clouded with
unshed tears of grief. Oh Ginny, poor Ginny…After a couple of moments, Harry
came back to his own tight situation, namely that he was completely alone in
the Chamber with Tom Riddle and had no way of defending himself. "What are you
going to do to me?" he asked uncertainly.
"Kill you, of course," Tom said carelessly. “But I have time, and I would like
to have a little fun.” He took a few steps closer to Harry, and before Harry
could react, rope shot out from the wand. It wound around Harry’s waist, arms,
and ankles. Tom tugged on the rope, and Harry’s lost his balance. He struggled,
but the binds were too strong to break through.
Tom conjured up a throne-like chair and sat down elegantly, looking down smugly
at Harry as though he were king and Harry were a filthy subject. He tugged on
the rope so that Harry was facing him. Harry wondered what Tom wanted to do
with him. Tom was studying him, a corner of his lips curling. Suddenly he
raised his wand and said, “Crucio!”
The pain was beyond anything Harry had ever endured. He collapsed back onto the
floor, convulsing. White-hot knives pierced him all throughout his body, his
mind was mercilessly grinded…when he thought he couldn’t take the pain any
longer, he felt the curse lift. Tom was laughing coldly.
“Do you know what that was?” Tom asked. “It is called the Cruciatus Curse, and
it makes a person suffer. Quite useful if you do not like a person. It’s one of
my favorite spells. Would you like to feel it again?”
Harry decided not to respond. The curse was dreadful, but he wasn’t going to
beg Tom to stop. He wasn’t going to play. From the corner of his eye he could
see Ginny’s little feet still sticking out from the basilisk’s mouth. He
shuddered.
“Did the curse destroy your ability to speak?” Tom said. “I asked you a
question, Harry. Answer me now!” When Harry didn’t respond, Tom added, “Would
you like to play another game then, Harry? I know another spell that I enjoy.
Imperio!”
This time, a wonderful sensation filled inside Harry. His mind was completely
cleared of thought, and he felt as though his body was floating. He watched
dreamily as Tom stuck his foot near Harry’s mouth.
“Kiss my foot, Harry, then take it into in your mouth.” Harry obeyed. He
positioned himself and kissed Tom’s shoe before taking it in. He then felt the
curse lift. Thoughts returned, and Harry realized what position he was in. He
quickly tried to spit out the shoe, but Tom yelled, “Immobulus!” and Harry
froze right where he was. Tom laughed coldly again. He pushed his foot into
Harry’s mouth until Harry thought the sides of his mouth were going to tear.
Tom laughed again in his high, cold manner.
“That’s right, Harry,” Tom sighed. He sneered sinisterly as he started to move
his foot in and out of Harry’s mouth. “Do you know what this action reminds me
of? Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you...should I risk ruining your innocence like
this? Do you even have any idea what I am alluding to, little Potter? Ah, what
would your filthy Mudblood mother think about her precious stupid baby kneeling
here before me like a good little bitch.” Harry gagged. “Not enjoying sucking
me, Harry? Well, I hope you choke on this, little parasite!”
Harry fought against the magical binds and rope. Something awful was gurgling
in his stomach; his last meal was threatening to spill out. He used every inch
of his strength and broke free from the Immobulus spell. He vomited over the
floor, his robes, and even Tom’s shoes.
“Filthy boy!” Tom said angrily. “Clean up this mess with your mouth.”
“No!” Harry croaked, the taste of vomit and dirt still in his mouth.
Tom waved the wand again, and Harry felt an invisible hand push him down into
the mess. Harry pressed back against the force; the smell of the vomit alone
was making him feel ill again. The invisible hand was too strong and Harry fell
forward, but fortunately his face did not fall into the pool of sick. Looking
up he could see that Tom was a bit disappointed. He gave Tom a dirty look.
“Don’t give me that look, filth,” Tom said. With another swish of the wand, the
ropes binding Harry extended and wrapped around his throat. They began to
constrict. “Crucio!” Tom yelled, and Harry twitched in pain again. He couldn’t
scream because of the tightness around his throat. Tears spilled down his face.
Help me, please help me! Harry prayed frantically. He couldn’t breathe; the
pain was intensifying every second. Finally, the curse was lifted and the rope
loosened its grip. Air was starting to rush back in, but he was still
twitching. He felt odd, confused…his eyes shifted to the tunnel door through
which he had entered. Just a bit farther off, his best friend Ron was there
waiting for him. Tears filled Harry’s eyes again as he thought about his
friend; he had let Ron down by being too late to save Ginny, and soon Ron was
going to have one less friend. He was never going to see Ron again…
“Ron …” Harry whimpered as emotion filled him. He heard a chuckle behind him;
Harry turned over again and looked into Tom’s cold, mocking eyes.
“Crying for your best friend now, Harry?” Tom asked. “Oh, you poor thing.” He
waved the wand, and Harry felt the invisible hand grab him by his hair. He was
too weak to fight it. The hand pulled his head up before bashing his head
against the floor. Harry screamed, but he could not fight anymore. As Tom
continued slamming his skull into the stone floor, Harry thought that his head
would surely break apart.
Please, no, he thought, fear and hopelessness and pain clouding out everything
else. Then, blessedly, his mind fell silent.
                                      ***
Tom studied his lovely work. Harry lay unconscious on the floor with pretty
streaks of dried tears running down his cheeks and a blot of blood widening
under his head. He felt around Harry’s head, located the injury, and quickly
healed the wound. It would be more entertaining to keep Harry in good mental
health for as long as possible.
Tom sat up and wondered what next to do with the little bastard. The boy was
not aware of anything at the moment; Tom could do anything he wished.
He could cut off one of Harry’s limbs and feed it to the basilisk. Oh, how
wonderful Harry’s reaction would be when he woke up and saw that he was missing
a body part! Or he could cut him into many pieces and send it to Dumbledore in
a gift basket with some decaying flowers. What a lovely present that would be!
Tom laughed at the thought of old Professor Dumbledore’s reaction when he
received the gift basket. It would be even better if he kept Harry alive but
cut him all over before putting him in the basket. Oh yes, the amount of pain
Harry would endure would be exquisite to behold!
Tom shifted and brought Harry’s wand to his chest. He had made up his mind
about what to do to Harry. Running one hand through Harry’s hair and holding
Harry’s wand with the other, Tom muttered the first two syllables of the
Diffindo spell.
Moments passed, but Tom did not complete the incantation. He continued to stand
over Harry, his wand raised. A memory was hazily returning to him. He had
nearly forgotten it over the course of the last fifty years.
He had been sitting in a dim living room looking down at his notes. The notes
had been for a ritual, but the steps had not been complete at the time. Tom had
looked up excitedly at the wizard, but his excitement had been punctured when
the man, a dark wizard, had spoken.
“You will need a partner,” he had said, “and I have already chosen mine.”
Tom had been reading up on history books during nights when he possessed
Ginny’s body. He knew what had happened to that wizard. He had died two years
after that meeting. Tom was sure the wizard had continued to work on the
ritual. After all, the dark wizard Grindelwald had also sought immortality….
A partner…Tom looked at Harry, and he grinned wickedly. He backed away from the
unconscious boy and turned to the basilisk that had been lying lazily around
the feet of Salazar Slytherin’s statue.
“Go,” he ordered the basilisk. “Go out into the school and attack anyone that
comes your way. Do not hold back; take anyone you fancy. I do not care.”
“Yesss,” the basilisk hissed. It uncoiled itself from where it lay and
slithered past Tom and Harry. Tom could hear it hissing to itself contently; it
would surely dine on many humans tonight. Tom smiled at the thought and turned
his attention to the unconscious boy. He cast the Disillusionment Charm on
Harry before doing the same on himself.
“Mobilicorpus,” Tom said. Harry rose up a couple of inches from the ground. Tom
made his way to the end of the Chamber where Slytherin’s statue stood. There
was a small channel far off to the left that magically pulled the water up from
the ground and out of the castle. It was too small to fit through, but Tom had
an idea.
“Dilato,” he said, and the channel began to expand. Wrapping his arms around
Harry, Tom entered. He immediately felt the magical energy pushing them. As
they soared up, Harry’s head lolled against Tom’s chest.
“We’re going to Grindelwald’s manor,” he whispered to the unconscious boy. “You
are going to make me immortal.” He squeezed Harry’s arm tightly.
The channel emptied them out into the nearby lake. Tom quickly swam to the
surface and shivered. The air was a little chilly, yet refreshing. Looking up
at the marvelous night sky, he realized that this was the first time he had
been out of castle ever since he entered the diary fifty years ago. The scenery
was lovely, but he didn’t have time to admire nature. He had work to do.
He pushed Harry onto the edge of the lake and climbed out. Looking around him,
he pondered what his next move should be. They had a long journey to make, and
the Disillusionment Charm could only hide them as long as they kept moving. If
they stood still for a while, a sharp-eyed witch or wizard could discern that
they were there.
A rustling nearby caught his attention. Over in the Forbidden Forest Tom could
make out the shape of a skeletal winged black horse. It white eyes shined in
the darkness as it sniffed its way towards a meal. Thestrals were invisible to
many people, but he could cast the Disillusionment Charm on it for added
protection.
“Mobilicorpus,” Tom whispered, his wand pointed at Harry. The young boy rose up
from the ground again. Taking one last glance at Hogwarts, Tom approached the
Thestral.
***** Chapter Two - Blood, Seed, and Venom *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                  Chapter Two
                            Blood, Seed, and Venom
                                I took you home
                             Set you on the glass
                            I pulled off your wings
                                Then I laughed
                             -"Change" by Deftones
                                     *****
While Tom Riddle was still a student at Hogwarts, the Dark wizard Grindelwald
led a reign of terror in the magical communities all over Europe. His actions
mirrored those of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini's regime. He maintained
that Mudbloods were walking all over the wizarding world. They were snatching
jobs right from underneath the purebloods' noses, he claimed, and what with the
already deteriorating economy from the Great Depression, the idea of reserving
jobs only for the pureblood race was appealing.
Tom had the honor of meeting Grindelwald during the summer of the year 1943,
the summer after Tom's fifth year. Tom had finally opened the Chamber of
Secrets and murdered his father by that time.
Dark witches and wizards had heard of Tom's name from his classmates. Tom was,
after all, the top student in Hogwarts. He was highly skilled in magic beyond
his grade level, and his pursuit of the Dark Arts had not escaped the Slytherin
dormmates' attention. Many students were attracted to Tom by his intelligence,
charisma, and good looks, and their high praises about the enigmatic orphaned
wizard had eventually reached Grindelwald's ears.
The Dark wizard grew an interest in the boy from the stories he heard. Tom
Riddle was clearly a very gifted young man, and his interest in the Dark Arts
made him a high candidate to become part of Grindelwald's army. The only
problem was Tom's age. He was too young for Grindelwald to accept him, and he
was certain that the boy did not want to attract attention from his teachers.
Grindelwald highly valued education, so he wanted the boy to continue on with
his schooling.
Nonetheless, he invited Tom to his manor for a fortnight. Tom was pleased to
learn that he would be spending two weeks less in the orphanage. As he unpacked
his trunk in the guest room, he made a mental note to reward Lestrange, Avery,
and Black for their work. He realized that he could use them to help him get
anything he wanted.
Grindelwald's manor was located deep within the Galloway Forest Park. Various
spells and wards were set up around the manor to ensure that no one could find
it. The manor was immensely important to Aurors of that time. It was common
knowledge that Grindelwald was an inventor, and many of his magical inventions
were sold in the black market. One could only speculate what other spells,
potions, and little gadgets the Dark wizard worked on in his manor.
Tom did not get a chance to look inside Grindelwald's workroom, but he did get
a chance to glimpse a very interesting spell in one of his notebooks. It was
during the second to last day of Tom’s visit. The living room in which he and
Grindelwald sat was cozy. The curtains were halfway drawn, and the sunlight
shining in cast a soft orange glow on the cherry wood table and bookshelves
lining the walls.
"Is it true you taught a class once?" Grindelwald said. The Dark wizard was
tall and slightly hunchbacked due to many hours of constantly working on
potions, and his small, beady eyes made him resemble a hawk. He watched Tom,
who was enjoying the gentle breeze sweeping in from the open window, closely.
"Yes, sir," Tom said. "Professor Merrythought and I had a little quarrel in
class." He casually traced little circles on the couch arm with a long finger.
"I disagreed with her on how to handle a kappa. She challenged me to go teach
the class if I were so inclined to share with them my views, and I took her
offer right away. She was surprised by my actions. I daresay she was only
joking about me teaching the class." Grindelwald chuckled.
"A true Slytherin," he commented.
You have no idea, Tom thought. His eyes gleamed. I am the decedent of Salazar
Slytherin from my mother's side.
"I hear that the Chamber of Secrets was opened this year," Grindelwald
continued. "It is not a myth after all."
"Yes sir," Tom replied, trying his best to hide a smile. "It is unfortunate
that the attacks had to stop. From the rumors I heard, the school was close to
being closed. It would be unfair to prevent the pureblood students from
continuing on their education. At the same time, it is unfortunate that only
one Mudblood was murdered."
Grindelwald nodded slowly, an amused look on his face. "Always speak your mind,
do you?" he said. "Intelligent, witty, cunning…you would have made any
pureblood family proud. You are certainly better than my own son."
He shot a distasteful look behind Tom. He followed Grindelwald's gaze and found
a figure hidden in the shadows in the far corner of the room. Grindelwald’s son
appeared to be mumbling to himself.
"A Squib," Grindelwald informed Tom. "I have not detected any magical ability
in him, and he has not done anything remotely magical in his life. And he is
insane. People his age normally have jobs and children by now."
"Why not just dispose of him?" Tom asked. He continued to watch the Squib for a
little while before turning back to Grindelwald.
"He might come in handy," Grindelwald explained. "There is a very slight chance
I may need his assistance in a spell I am currently working on, one which will
grant immortality."
"Immortality?" Tom said. He kept his face straight, but he leaned slightly
forward in his seat. "But aren't Horcruxes used for this purpose?"
He didn't want to waste his five years worth of effort hunting for the Chamber
of Secrets. He had come across the word while pouring through Dark Arts books,
and he had deeply considered making one … or more. The idea of preserving a
part of one's soul in an inanimate object was appealing, and preserving parts
of himself into more than one inanimate object could provide him the maximum
strength. However, Grindelwald was frowning.
"I do not recommend it," Grindelwald said. "Horcruxes can be destroyed, and the
soul inside the Horcrux is forever shattered. Unlike most deaths that occur,
the soul from a Horcrux does not move on to the afterlife. It disintegrates."
"But if the Horcrux is safely kept and guarded with many magical wards, then
there is no fear of losing the soul," Tom argued.
"Do you wish to gain immortality?" Grindelwald asked. His eyes bore into Tom's
face. "You appear to have given this a lot of thought."
"I am fascinated by the study of the Dark Arts," Tom simply said. A tense
silence followed between the two wizards. Grindelwald continued watching Tom
closely for a while. He suddenly stood up.
"Wait here," he said. He left the room and did not return for about five
minutes. In his hands he held a thick notebook. Without saying anything, he
flipped to the correct page and handed it to Tom.
"These are the notes for the immortality spell I am working on," Grindelwald
explained. "There is still much work to be done, but I feel this will be the
better alternative for many dark witches and wizards who wish to seek
immortality."
Tom skimmed through the notes. Only the description of the spell was written
down, but from what Tom read, there appeared to be no risks, unlike the Horcrux
or Philosopher's Stone. Apparently it was to be an easy spell to perform, and
the realization that he was holding the object that would easily grant him
immortality excited Tom.
"This is an amazing invention, sir," Tom said. His hands shook as he held the
leather bound book. He looked up to meet Grindelwald's eyes again.
"You will need a partner," Grindelwald said, "and I have already chosen mine."
"Partners?" Tom repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"I recently discovered this during my research," Grindelwald said. "I haven't
written it down yet, but from my experiments, it appears that this spell
requires the participation of two individuals that share a bond." Tom pondered
the words in his mind.
"How strong must the bond between the individuals be?" he asked.
"Very strong," Grindelwald said. "You will be living for an eternity, so who
you wish to bring into eternity must be considered deeply. People around you
will eventually die; keep that in mind. The person you wish to immortalize must
be someone you want to live with for a very, very long time, and you can only
bring this one person. Surely you have a close friend or lover? From what I
hear, many people admire you."
Tom was indeed admired by many classmates and teachers. Many of his dormmates
had proven to be useful, but he could not see himself spending an eternity with
any of them. They weren't as smart as he was by a long shot, and although he
never made it public, he was annoyed by their presence on many occasions. If it
weren't for him, none of his classmates would be able to pass half their
classes. And a woman…he could not imagine dragging one of those nagging, whiny
creatures along with him.
"There is no chance I can be your partner?" Tom asked. "You cannot undergo the
ritual twice?"
"No, I can't," Grindelwald said, and he suddenly looked a little tense and
uncomfortable. "I'm sure there is someone you can partner with."
"I will think about the matter," Tom said a little bitterly. He didn't have to
ask who Grindelwald had chosen. As Tom handed back the notebook to Grindelwald,
a short, stout witch entered with tea. For the remainder of the afternoon, Tom
eyed Grindelwald's wife as he sipped his tea. A very useful spell was gone to
waste thanks to her influence on Grindelwald, but it did not matter. Tom had
other ways to achieve immortality, and he was going to use every spell
imaginable to guard his Horcruxes…
                                      ***
Not everyone had approved of Grindelwald's mission. He had been defeated and
killed in 1945 by none other than Albus Dumbledore, three days after Hitler had
committed suicide. Grindelwald, unfortunately, had not yet made himself
immortal.
Grindelwald's wife, Aderyn, had been the Secret Keeper for the location of his
manor. She had died shortly after Grindelwald's defeat after being taken for
investigation; before the Aurors could force the information out from her mind,
she had killed herself. The secret of the manor's location was kept safe.
Tom assumed that the manor's location was still a secret. From his readings, he
had not found any information about the manor having been searched by Aurors.
Love is a delusional force that blinds people to what they can achieve, Tom
thought bitterly as more of the memory resurfaced in his mind. I could have
helped Grindelwald had he chosen me. I could have helped him perfect the spell
easily! He would not have died two years later! He tightened his hold on the
boy in his arms.
Love is only for fools and the weak, he thought angrily. Tom had pushed the
memory away from his mind, but he was glad the memory had returned to him now.
He had found a person he did not mind dragging into eternity with him, even if
that person was a little brat. He had other uses in mind for little Harry.
The Thestral arrived at their destination. Tom looked up at Grindelwald's
manor, grinning. Tom had worried that he would not be able to see the manor
after all these years, that Grindelwald may have added more protection after
Tom’s visit, but he encountered no difficulty. The manor was still visible to
him, and he was certain no one from Dumbledore's side had known about the
home's location. Dumbledore would have destroyed the manor had he known where
it was. Tom could almost feel the protection around the manor. Situated on a
hill and surrounded by tall trees, the beautiful manor was still Unplottable
and protected by the Fidelius Charm.
Tom settled Harry on the Thestral’s back before dismounting. “Thank you,” he
whispered to the Thestral. He lifted the Disillusionment Charm off the
Thestral, but kept the spell on Harry and himself. “Go back now. I will not
need you from here on.” He cast Mobilicorpus once again on Harry. He made his
way to the manor, but stopped once he reached the entrance door. There were
soft noises within; someone was still living here.
He crept to the nearest window and peered inside. There was an old man walking
about on a limp. Tom realized that this must be Grindelwald’s shameful son. He
was still alive.
The old Squib was shaking his head as though irritated, mumbling under his
breath. Crazy old fool. From the state of the dark house inside, Tom assumed
that the Squib was alone. But even if there were others inside, Tom could deal
with them.
With a flick of his wand, Harry fell onto the ground. Tom ran to the entrance
door, flung it open, and ran in right in front of the mad old man.
"Who are you?" squeaked the Squib. His eyes popped open as he looked around
madly for what had just burst in.
"Your fairy godmother, of course – Avada Kedavra!" The Squib didn't have a
second to react; his body hit the dusty floor with a thud. Tom listened
intently for any sound in case someone had heard him yelling, but no one was
there. He pointed his wand at himself and his body's true colors returned.
Tom crouched down to examine the old man's wrinkled face. This was the first
time he had ever taken a good look at Grindelwald's son. He vaguely remembered
the insane man having dark hair like his mother, but now it had gone mostly
white. He must be around his seventies if he had been middle-aged fifty years
ago.
"It's been a while," Tom muttered to himself. Tapping the tip of his wand
against the Squib's forehead, Tom muttered a spell, and the man turned into an
old brown shoe.
“Wingardium Leviosa.” He took the shoe outside, used another spell to dig a
hole in the ground, and buried the shoe. The sky was gradually turning lighter
and bluer; Tom supposed it must be early morning right now. Tom turned to the
still unconscious Harry. He lifted the Disillusionment Charm off Harry before
floating him back inside the manor.
Aside from the dust and cobwebs gathering inside, the manor was just how Tom
remembered it from when he had visited Grindelwald. The first floor was
composed of a sitting room, laundry room, storage room, and laboratory. Tom
ascended the stairs to the second floor to examine the living room and kitchen.
Somewhere far from the stairway was the library. He ascended the next flight of
stairs.
The landing led him to a dim hallway. The master bedroom was on his left, the
bathroom on his right. The hallway extended a little bit after that before
taking a turn to the right, leading Tom to a hallway with many doors. The room
he had stayed in before was behind one of those doors.
But Tom walked into the master bedroom instead. From the dust and cobwebs that
greeted him, he could tell it was not used by the son. There were still little
trinkets lying around that were previously owned by Grindelwald and his wife.
He set Harry on the master bed.
The dust and cobwebs were almost unbearable here. He wrinkled his nose and
covered his face with his hands to prevent more dust from coming near. He had
already coughed several times before he managed to cast a spell to clear the
dust. He wasn't able to clear everything away, but it would do.
How could the Squib stand living in this place? Weren't there any house-elves
still living in the manor? Tom didn't see any on his way to the bedroom; the
last one that had lived here must have died a long time ago, he figured. He
cast a Sedative Spell on Harry and swiftly left the room.
Tom made his way back to the second floor. He had a hunch he knew where
Grindelwald had kept his notebook. He ran to the library and was greeted with
more cobwebs and dust, so he cast another cleaning spell to clear them out as
best as he could. His eyes scanned for any little indication of a hidden small
compartment. He was quite certain Grindelwald would hide the notebook away in
such a manner. The notebook, after all, did contain a lot of Dark Arts
material.
Tom felt around the library, paying close attention to find any strong bit of
magic, such as a Concealing Charm. He used his wand on any thing on the wall,
no matter how small, that looked as though a small compartment could be hidden
behind or around it. After finishing with the wall, he examined the floor, then
finally the ceiling.
“Alohomora!” he said as he pointed his wand at a suspicious-looking area of the
ceiling. The flap fell down, but no book fell out from the hidden compartment.
Tom swore under his breath. Was the notebook discovered? No, Grindelwald must
have relocated it.
He ran out the library and continued his search aggressively throughout the
house. He took so many hours searching every nook and cranny that he even had
to go back to the master bedroom to redo the Sedative Spell on Harry.
One hour afterwards, Tom finally found the notebook in the laundry room. It was
hidden deep underneath the floor, wrapped in a special casing that protected it
from any water damage. Hands shaking, Tom produced the notebook from the casing
and held it in his arms. He had finally found it!
Tom sat on a sofa in the living room and skimmed through the pages until he
found what he was looking for. Some of the notes were vaguely recognizable, and
others must have been written down after Tom’s meeting with Grindelwald.
This ritual guarantees immortality to those who seek it. It must be performed
between two individuals with a special bond, Tom read. Of course he and Harry
had a special bond. The brat had crossed paths with Tom and his older self on
several occasions. The protection around Harry had nearly killed his older
self. How much more special could a connection be?
Following these steps will bind the soul to the body of the witch or wizard in
three areas of the body. Unlike Horcruxes, the soul cannot be torn away from
the body. Even the Killing Curse will not destroy the witch or wizard because
it cannot rip out the soul. The soul is sealed inside forever. Tom squeezed the
sides of the notebook. The steps for the ritual followed. There were only three
ingredients needed. However, Grindelwald had not made himself clear about what
they were. Obviously he didn't need to be clear because this was his notebook,
thus he knew perfectly what he was writing about. Instead of a list of
ingredients, he wrote out only the phrases that Tom needed to chant during the
ritual.
From your partner and yourself, fluid flowing down a branched river
From your partner and yourself, nectar from the source of life
From your partner and yourself, a thought mingled with the offering of an
intelligent beast
The first line was easy. A branched river resembled the veins inside a human
body. For the first step, he needed to use blood from both himself and Harry.
Nectar from the source of life…was Grindelwald referring to the heart? That was
impossible because the first line already referred to blood.
He frowned and closed his eyes. In his mind, he scanned down the human anatomy,
searching for any other organ that was a source of life. And then it hit him.
The source of life referred to not the organ that gave life to the individual,
but the organ that would produce the next life – the reproductive system.
But Tom was faced with a problem. Harry was only twelve, and from his looks he
was certainly not an early bloomer.
“I will have to give him an Ageing Potion,” Tom muttered to himself. Where was
he going to get the ingredients? The Squib would not have replaced the magical
plants and herbs, and the nearest apothecary was many miles away. Tom glanced
at the last line of the chant. He decided to deal with the potion problem
later.
From the many scratch-outs and rewritten notes on the margins, Tom could tell
that Grindelwald had had trouble with the last line. One thing was clear: the
final line referred to using the spell wizards used when retracting a thought
before placing it into a Pensieve. How else was he going to retrieve a thought
from Harry? The line didn't leave any indication of what kind or how much of a
thought had to be taken out, so Tom assumed it would be all right to use a
small amount. But what did Grindelwald mean by an offering of an intelligent
beast?
Grindelwald had owned many birds. Tom remembered the many cages that had lined
the walls of the hallways and the inside of the living room. There had been an
Amazon grey, several crows and ravens, dozens of other wild and exotic wild
birds, and one very exuberant budgerigar. Even his wife had resembled a bird.
Grindelwald had also had a canary that always sat in a cage next to his
favorite couch; the two had appeared to have a special bond.
A canary…their yellow feathers held magical properties that enhanced mental
capacity.
Tom blinked. Mental capacity. That is what Grindelwald had meant by an
intelligent beast! Most probably Grindelwald had been going to use the canary's
feathers for the spell; he had picked an animal he’d had a connection with.
What animal that Tom had a connection with had the ability to enhance mental
capacity?
The answer was quite simple. Tom could speak to snakes, so he needed an
offering from a snake that could increase mental capacity. His eyes roamed the
living room and landed on the curtain tassels. The morning sun's rays shining
on the tassels gave them an orange glow, and the rings of shadow across the
length of the tassel looked as though they were bands. Black bands on orange,
like a runespoor.
The runespoor egg held the ability to increase mental capacity. It was
unfortunate that they were only sold on the black market, and in his current
position, Tom could not buy them. However, runespoor venom could also affect
mental agility if properly handled, and their venom could be bought from any
apothecary.
He was back to the problem of getting the ingredients. The chirping outside
from the local birds gave him an idea. He left the room and located a piece of
parchment, quill, and bottle of ink. There was little ink left in the bottle,
and it had dried up over the years. He magically refilled the bottle and wrote
down several ingredients. Every now and then, he would pause to remember what
else he needed, or he would go to the library and retrieve a potions book, or
hunt for coins to pay for his purchase.
When he got his list ready, he went outside and scanned the trees surrounding
him. He caught sight of several sparrows, bullfinches, and other little
woodland birds. They were all too unreliable to deliver the letter due to their
low intelligence and small size. Luckily he found a suitable bird nearby. It
was a pigeon. His eyes focused on the bird.
Don't move, he commanded it. The pigeon did not fly away when he approached it.
He stuck out his hand, and the pigeon obediently flew to him.
"Take this to the nearest apothecary," he told the bird as he showed the sealed
envelope to it. The pigeon cooed, and Tom frowned slightly. While owl delivery
was not uncommon, Tom didn't want to draw any attention to the bird, so he
tapped his wand on the pigeon and it transfigured into a barn owl. It hooted,
and Tom nodded, satisfied. He wrapped the note to its leg, and it flew off
right away.
The owl did not return until about two hours later. Although it was mid-
morning, Tom had not eaten. He kept going over Grindelwald's notes, rehearsing
the lines in his head over and over. The page following the spell's description
and chant contained a few sketches. Grindelwald had not made any note that
these sketches were part of the spell, but on closer examination, Tom concluded
that they were part of the ritual. He had to draw certain patterns over Harry's
and his torsos before drinking the blood.
A hoot nearby roused him from his deep thought. The owl was looking at him from
the living room window.
"Good girl," Tom congratulated softly as he took the basketful of potion
ingredients, change in coins, and a small note from the apothecary thanking him
for his purchase. There was a little popping sound, and the pigeon returned to
its true form. It looked a little dazed at first, but it cooed and flew back to
its tree.
Tom made his way to Grindelwald's workroom, his excitement slowly mounting with
each step. The entire preparation took a couple of hours. He finally gave in to
his hunger and wolfed down a slice of bread from the kitchen. The Squib did not
have many food items in the kitchen, and Tom would have liked to make his first
meal after leaving the diary extravagant. He decided he would bring more food
in from the local town. Maybe he would sneak off meals from a fancy restaurant
in celebration of becoming an immortal.
Harry was wriggling and moaning when Tom entered the bedroom. He cast another
Sedative Spell upon him, and Harry stilled. As entertaining as it would be to
watch Harry wake up in the middle of the procedure and see what was being done
to him, Tom did not want to be disturbed.
Tom set the box and the wand aside on the space next to Harry's body. He moved
his hands up to the boy’s collar and slowly stripped Harry down before doing
the same to himself. He sneered at the boy's thin body; he could crush the boy
with his own hands.
Reaching into the box, Tom produced a potion vial and brought it up to Harry’s
mouth. He tipped the vial, and a drop fell down Harry's throat. He let another
drop fall, then another. With every drop from the potion, the boy's body slowly
altered. His limbs grew longer, but Tom's attention was concentrated on Harry's
private parts. When he was satisfied with the transformation, he set the potion
aside and moved over so that he was straddling Harry.
"From your partner and yourself, fluid flowing down a branched river," Tom
chanted. Immediately, he felt a foreboding air swirling about him and Harry. He
produced a small knife and made an incision into his arm. He took the blood and
smeared it around on Harry’s torso in the same pattern as Grindelwald had
sketched. He then cut Harry's arm and did the same to his own body. He went
back to the cut he had made on Harry and made it deeper before lowering his
head and sucking out the blood. When he was finished and had healed the wound,
he did the same to himself and squeezed the blood from his arm out into Harry’s
mouth.
Tom gasped. Sudden pain shot out from his heart, and for several seconds the
scene before his eyes blurred. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come. His
heart felt stronger somehow…smiling, Tom moved on to the next stage.
"From your partner and yourself, nectar from the source of life." Tom had never
been in a relationship, and he had never had any desires for anyone. But he had
understood what went on down there when treated in a certain way. He had
discovered this one summer in the orphanage when he was fourteen. The summer
heat had been unbearable one night, so he had gotten undressed completely
before going to bed. His private area had brushed against the fabric of the
bed, and he had been surprised at the reaction his body had had to the contact.
The sensation had been odd, but not unpleasant. Curious, Tom had explored this
new sensation.
He had felt embarrassed and disgusted with himself afterwards. Soon after that
night, he had heard about what his actions' consequences could be, and he had
ceased repeating the activity since then.
"Imperio," he said, pointing his wand at Harry. Tom began to work on himself
with one hand while the other hand continued to point the wand at Harry. He
commanded the boy to do the same activity Tom himself had done on that summer
night. He grinned as he watched the unconscious boy; he almost felt like
reviving Harry just to see his face when he realized the embarrassing position
he was in. But it was best to keep him unconscious. The next best thing would
be to not clean him afterwards and watch him when he woke.
Tom pulled out two goblets from the box to collect the prizes from Harry and
himself. After they were done drinking, Tom gasped painfully again. The same
sharp, intense pain followed, but this time the pain was centered around that
area. Tom almost collapsed; he grabbed himself down there and resisted a
scream. Underneath him, Harry was withering. He, too, was feeling the pain.
When the stinging subdued, Tom took a moment to relax before moving on to the
final part.
"From your partner and yourself, a thought mingled with the offering of an
intelligent beast," Tom chanted. He took one of the potion vials that contained
the runespoor venom. He brought his wand up to Harry's forehead and pulled out
a thought as tiny as a raindrop. The drop fell into the vial, and Tom swallowed
the entire vial, almost gagging at the taste. He brought the wand to his
forehead and pulled out a tiny thought. He repeated the same steps, and once
the last drop fell into Harry's mouth, the vial slipped from Tom's hands and
clattered to the hard floor.
He screamed as blinding flash of light engulfed them. His brain was on fire,
his skull was splitting into two…when the light died down, the pain also left,
but Tom was feeling too weak to hold himself any longer. He collapsed over
Harry, panting.
The spell had worked. Tom was sure of it. He could feel its effects all over
his body. Everything in front of his eyes was sharper and more exciting to
behold. Every breath of air felt refreshing. He lightly traced Harry’s mouth
with a long finger, smiling at the little tingles he received at the touch.
"Thank you, little Potter," Tom said, grinning madly. He slipped out of bed and
looked down at Harry. He couldn't wait until he saw the look on Harry's face
when he woke up.
Something was threatening to burst from inside Tom. He wiped at the blood he
had drawn over his flat belly before making his way to the door.
Thankfully the old Squib had kept one of the bathrooms in decent shape over the
years. It was clean and had a few shampoos and soaps ready to use.
Tom moaned happily as water droplets splashed over his skin. He ran his hands
over his neck, chest, and stomach, sighing at every touch. He had never felt
this ecstatic before. The thing he had been holding back erupted. He threw his
head back and screamed with mirth. He had finally done it! He was immortal!
***** Chapter Three - Grief and Guilt *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                 Chapter Three
                                Grief and Guilt
"Those who are incapable of committing great crimes do not readily suspect them
                                  in others."
                        - Francois De La Rochefoucauld
                                     *****
Professor Dumbledore,
I wish to inform you of your precious Golden Boy’s whereabouts. I have taken
him hostage, but do not fret. I do not wish to kill him. However, do not expect
to see him anytime soon, if ever. I do not want anything in return for the boy,
so I would appreciate it if you do not bother me with offers. He has proven
himself to be quite useful to me, and I will continue to use him to benefit
myself.
Yours truly,
T.M. Riddle
P.S. I do hope the basilisk has eaten well. I do not think little Ginny was
satisfying for him.
Tom smirked at the last line. He wasn’t sure whether Dumbledore had returned to
Hogwarts or not. The Muggle-loving fool seemed to never want to be away from
Hogwarts for very long no matter what happened, but it did not matter.
Dumbledore could receive his message anywhere if Tom used the magical mode of
sending letters.
He went outside to locate another pigeon. The bird he picked out tried
desperately to break out from his grip after it saw Tom point his wand at it.
"Fine, I won't transfigure you," Tom sighed, and he pocketed his wand. He
handed the note to the pigeon. “Take this to Albus Dumbledore. I trust you can
locate people. After all, carrier pigeons were used to send messages at one
point in history.” The pigeon flew off at a fast pace. Tom watched the pigeon
until it turned into a tiny speck in the clear sky.
He looked down at his watch and smiled slightly. The time was frozen at 11:42
p.m., the exact time when he had entered the diary. He determined that he
should revise his watch soon to match the current time.
He turned back inside. There was one final thing he had to do before Harry woke
up.
                                      ***
The usual chattering in the Great Hall was subdued. Ron Weasley couldn’t
concentrate on his lunch. He spooned some steak and kidney pie, but he could
not put it in his mouth. He had no appetite, and there was a horrible hard lump
in his throat. He felt miserable and sick whenever his mind began to wander,
and no matter what he did, he could not push the thoughts away from him. What
made things worse was that Neville, Seamus, and Dean kept giving him looks of
sympathy.
Several seats away, Fred and George sat quietly and looked solemn, an
expression that did not suit them at all. A few seats away from the twins,
Percy was being comforted by the Ravenclaw Prefect Penelope Clearwater. She had
just been revived from her Petrification, and when she had entered the Great
Hall, she had gone immediately to speak to Percy. No doubt she had heard what
had happened.
It was all my fault, Ron told himself. He should never have allowed Harry to go
to the Chamber. They were only second years; they should have told a teacher
other than Lockhart. But, no…Harry was the kind of fellow who would run and
save anyone from danger. He was a brave friend.
Ron could never forget the day they had met. Harry had bought loads of candy in
the Hogwarts Express, and after seeing that Ron had no money, he had happily
shared his snacks. Ron had been shocked. Here was the boy he had grown up
listening to stories about all his life. He had even imagined Harry Potter as
some great, muscular, and all-powerful wizard. He was shocked to see how Harry
really looked: like any other normal boy. He was still admired by many,
including Ginny.
No…he would not think of Ginny. Ron tried to distract himself with his lunch,
but the images of his little sister kept torturing him. He could not stop
himself from remembering Ginny laughing and running into his arms, her yellow
dress blowing in the summer wind. They would run and hide from Fred and George
whenever they smelled mischief around the corner. Ginny would start to giggle
because she could not contain her excitement. As a result, the twins would
discover their hiding place, and the two would run off again. The memory made
Ron almost choke. He set his spoon down.
“Ron?” came a quiet voice. He turned around to see Hermione Granger standing
behind him. She must have just entered the Great Hall, and she was watching him
concernedly. It took a while for Ron to find his voice.
“Hi, Hermione,” he said.
“Ron, what happened?” Hermione asked. She took a seat beside him. “Where’s
Harry? Madam Pomfrey told me something bad had happened. Does it have something
to do with the Chamber of Secrets?”
Ron nodded.
“We were too late,” Ron explained. “The monster in the Chamber took Ginny. You
were right. It was a basilisk. Harry and I went to rescue her, but…we failed.”
He took a deep breath. “Hermione…Ginny is dead.”
Hermione gasped and cupped her mouth with both hands. When she removed them,
she asked, “And Harry?” Her voice trembled.
“We’re not sure,” Ron said.
“What do you mean?”
Ron took another deep breath. “Well, you see…we kind of got separated in the
Chamber,” Ron said. He tried to keep his voice calm. "We heard that Ginny was
taken into the Chamber after we found your note. Harry opened the entrance to
the Chamber; it was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It's located far underneath
it. On our way down, we got separated by all these rocks falling from the
ceiling because Lockhart –"
"Lockhart?" Hermione said. "What was Lockhart doing with you and Harry?" Ron
hesitated.
"Er…well, that's another story. I'll tell you later," Ron said hastily.
"Anyway, Lockhart and I were separated from Harry. Harry told us to stay where
we were, and he went into the Chamber alone while I tried clearing the tunnel
as much as I could without my wand."
"But why couldn't Lockhart help?"
"Later, Hermione. Harry was gone for a while, and I couldn’t hear anything that
was going on at the other end. I didn’t even know if he’d reached the Chamber
of Secrets or not. After a long time, I heard something coming near, but it
didn’t sound anything like a person, so I hid.
"I grabbed Lockhart and dragged him to the far corner. We hid inside a crack in
the rocks. The basilisk was huge, Hermione...but I guess all the dust and grime
down there covered up our smell, because it just slithered past us.
"The basilisk left, but there was no sign of Harry anywhere. I wasn't sure what
to do or if I should even leave my hiding place because there could’ve been
more basilisks around.
"Then I heard Myrtle start screaming. She saw its tongue emerge from the
entrance, and she went berserk. Her voice was so loud that I could hear it from
underground. Someone had to have heard her.
"It’s a good thing all of the students were safe in their dormitories. Later on
I found out that Professor Flitwick was near Myrtle’s bathroom when the snake
got out. He heard Myrtle’s screaming, and Professor Dumbledore rushed in and
ordered Professor Flitwick to warn the other teachers that they were dealing
with a basilisk. I don't know how he figured it out, but he's Dumbledore after
all. He'd just got back from the Ministry when Harry and I were near the
Chamber. Professor Flitwick quickly cast some kind of spell to alert all the
teachers, and Professor Dumbledore and the other professors were able to kill
it.
"Then Dumbledore went to Myrtle's bathroom and found Lockhart and me inside the
tunnel. I ran to Dumbledore and told him as much as I could. He ordered an
autopsy on the basilisk, and we went into the Chamber together, but we couldn't
find Harry or Ginny. The only clue we had that someone had been in there was
some blood and vomit. We didn't know who it belonged to.
"After we came back, I was told to go to Professor McGonagall's office. My
parents were there. They had been told about Ginny being taken into the
Chamber, and they’d come as fast as they could.
They told me to stay with them. Mum was beside herself. All the teachers were
taken to a different room. When they came back, my brothers were with them, and
Dumbledore told us that they…" he paused for a little while, choked up, "they
had found Ginny's body in the basilisk. They didn't want any of the family
members to see her.
They couldn't find Harry though. Dumbledore reckons Harry was taken by the
enemy, but he didn't say anything more when I asked him who the enemy was. I
can’t see how the attacker escaped. I mean, I was right there in the Chamber, a
few dozen feet away from him! How could anyone have left without me knowing?"
"I don't know," Hermione said in a small voice. Her eyes were focused on the
empty plate in front of her, her mind lost in thought. "How could I have been
so stupid, Ron?" she finally spoke up. Her voice cracked. "I should have
realized a long time ago that the monster was a basilisk. The moment we found
out that Harry was a Parselmouth, I should have known! What other explanation
was there for Harry to be hearing voices that we couldn't? He's perfectly fine
in the head, we know that." She covered her face with her hands. "I could have
stopped everything from happening!"
Ron patted her back gently. "It isn't your fault, Hermione," he said in a quiet
voice. "I was stupid too. How dumb was I to think that we could defeat the
basilisk? My wand didn't even work right. We got Lockhart to come with us, but
really, he's no better than us. We were right there in the staff room hiding in
the cabinet when we heard the news. We should have just run out and told the
teachers everything we knew. They know more spells than us; we're only second
years! Sure, we went against You-Know-Who last year, but Harry would’ve died if
Dumbledore hadn’t come on time."
He was silent for several minutes, then said, "How could Harry just disappear
like that?"
Hermione suddenly looked up straight ahead, a look of epiphany on her face. "I
think I know how the kidnapper escaped."
"How?" Ron asked.
Hermione turned to him. "Haven't you ever wondered how the basilisk was able to
go around the entire school even though some of the pipes are too small for it
to fit through?" Hermione said. She jumped up from her seat and started to make
her way out of the Great Hall. Ron quickly followed her.
"How did a large snake go through thin pipes?" Ron asked. He hadn’t thought
about this issue until Hermione had brought it up.
"A few months ago, I was reading up on spells we will be taught next year, and
I came across it." She stopped at the nearest bathroom. "Wait here," she said.
Hermione went in. She came out holding a thin roll of toilet paper. She tore
off some paper and dabbed her teary eyes, then she tore off the remaining paper
and offered it to Ron to blow. He blew his nose.
Without saying another word, Hermione continued walking. Soon they found
themselves in the library, but that was no surprise to him; Hermione always
found the answer in the library. She went straight to the section on spells,
and she pulled out a thick book.
"Are you going to tell me what this spell is?" Ron asked, but Hermione ignored
him for the time being. She continued to scan through the book until she found
what she was looking for. A few moments passed as she read the page.
Ron was starting to feel uncomfortable in the library. If Harry was around,
they would have talked while Hermione did the research. A pang of guilt hit him
in the stomach; if it wasn't for Harry, he would never have been Hermione's
friend.
The guilt was almost too much. He didn't want to think about Harry…what he had
put his best friend through…
Hermione set the book down and turned her attention to the cardboard toilet
roll. She pointed her wand at the roll and said, "Dilato." The hole in the roll
widened. "Do you see now?" she said to Ron. "This simple spell dilates. This
how the basilisk was able to get through thin pipes and enter the halls. And I
believe this is how the kidnapper left with Harry. You said that the Chamber of
Secrets is located far underneath Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There have to be
pipes down there. The kidnapper must have cast the Dilation Charm on one of the
pipes and escaped."
"That's why I didn't see Harry come my way," Ron said. His eyes widened as he
stared at the dilated toilet roll. "The kidnapper left from inside the Chamber
itself!" He turned his gaze back to Hermione. "Where did they go?"
"The only possible answer is the nearby lake," Hermione said as her voice
constricted again. "What if Harry's body is in there?"
The two friends locked eyes for a second, and they dashed out of the library.
The entrance hall was full of students making their way back to their common
rooms; lunch was over. Unfortunately, Snape was near the oak doors, and he
stopped them.
"What do you think you are doing?" he inquired threateningly. Ron spoke up.
"We have to go outside and –"
"Haven't you already caused enough damage, Weasley?" Snape said. "I thought
your sister's death and Potter's disappearance would teach you to hold on
tighter to your friends, or are you growing tired of Ms. Granger's presence?"
Ron's jaws dropped at the insult.
"Professor, please, we must –" Hermione began, but she too was cut off.
"I don’t want to hear any excuses, Granger," Snape said. "Go to your common
room now, unless you do not mind Gryffindor losing fifty points."
Fifty points was unfair, Ron thought, but it was worth it if it meant saving
Harry. Hermione, however, tugged on his sleeve and motioned back to the
staircase.
"It's no use arguing with him," she whispered to Ron. "If Harry is still in the
lake and alive then he would have found a way to save himself." Ron nodded,
sensing defeat, and they turned back around.
                                      ***
When the Gryffindor students were settled down in their common room, Professor
McGonagall informed them that the school, fortunately, would not be closed
since the monster was captured and killed. However, the school year would be
cut one week short, so the students had only a fortnight left at Hogwarts. No
final exams were to be given.
A tense silence followed the announcement. None of the students made a sound
for the longest time. They had just lost two of their housemates, and many did
not know how to act, especially in the presence of the surviving Weasley
children and Harry's dormmates.
Ron could not rest. Hermione's words were wearing off, and occasionally he
would stand up from his seat near the fireplace and pace around while
Hermione's attention was focused on the fireplace. She would occasionally break
from her deep thought to ask him about what had happened to Lockhart, Hagrid,
and anything else pertaining to what Ron knew about the Chamber. Once or twice
she got up and looked out a window to see if she could find Harry near the
lake. Every now and then, a student would pass by to give Ron condolences.
"I once took this picture of Ginny," Colin said in a small voice as he showed
Ron a photo. He took a seat across from Ron and Hermione. His eyes were puffy,
and his little hands shook slightly. Hermione moved over to look at the photo
over Ron's shoulder.
Ginny and a couple other first years were smiling from their seat on the
Hogwarts Express, all of them wearing an expression of both excitement and
nervousness. "I took it before someone taught me how to make my photos
magical," Colin continued. "I thought you might like to have it."
"Thanks," Ron said indifferently while he stared at the photo. It was nice of
Colin to give him this photo, but he didn't like it. It wasn't natural. None of
the people moved. Ginny didn't move…He handed the photo to Hermione.
"She was a very nice person," Colin spoke up after a while. "I used to sit next
to her during Charms class, but she was always a bit shy. I don't think she
really made any close friends, even though she was nice to everyone. One time I
was outside and I saw her writing in her diary. I'm guessing it was a diary
because when I approached her, she gasped and quickly shut the book closed."
Ron smiled sadly. "Ginny never kept a diary before," he said. "We would have
known if she had a diary. There were no secrets in the Weasley family because
Fred and George were always snooping around everyone's business. I guess she
needed something to confide in, being a first year and all, so she got one
before the school year started. I can’t imagine how she would have gotten one,
though."
He blushed, not wanting to the finish that thought. His family would have been
too poor to buy an extra book for Ginny. Maybe she had somehow saved up for
one? But how would she have done that?
Something didn't make sense; the thought also crossed Hermione's mind. She gave
Ron a calculating look before turning back to Colin.
"What did the diary look like?" she asked him.
"Kind of small…black leather, I think," Colin replied. Hermione nodded slowly.
"Thank you, Colin," she said. She grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him away from
the first year. She led him far from everyone in the common room, near a
window.
"What's going on?" Ron asked her.
"Ron, was there ever a time when you or one of your brothers stole something
from Ginny?" Hermione asked.
"Well, yeah," Ron said. "Not me, of course. Honest!" he quickly added when
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Fred and George once stole a picture she drew of a
pineapple. She was only three back then, and she thought a pineapple was
actually an apple that pined all day. It was the first time she had ever heard
the word. Fred and George teased her about it and decided to take it in and
show it to Mum and Dad. She got furious, and while we were playing outside, she
snuck into their rooms and hunted for the drawing." Ron gave a little laugh at
the memory. "You should have seen the mess she made! She would have made a
lousy thief because the entire room was torn apart." Ron stopped talking;
something had just dawned on him.
"She made a mess of things," Hermione said. "Just like what happened in Harry's
room a few months ago."
"You think that was Ginny?" Ron asked.
"Who else could it have been?" Hermione said. "Colin said that Ginny had a
diary, a black leather diary. What if that was Tom Riddle's diary that she
owned? We already know it's no ordinary diary, and you said that she never
owned a diary before. Where did she get it? Maybe she never bought the diary,
but somehow found it. And isn't it a little odd that a pureblood got killed?"
"I never thought of that," Ron said. His face lighted up with a thought. "What
if she was hunting for information about the attacks so she could stop them?
Tom did stop the attacks, although he blamed it on the wrong person. Maybe she
was trying to find out some things and that's why she got dragged into the
Chamber."
Ron bit his lip. "Tom Riddle must have known stuff about the Chamber he didn't
have time to tell Harry. Hey, do you think we can write to him? It's been fifty
years, but he's got to remember his time at Hogwarts!"
"I don't know…" Hermione said slowly. "There is a chance that the real Tom
Riddle is not out there."
"What do you mean?"
"Look at it this way, Ron. Tom captured the wrong person, but he got rewarded.
A lot of fuss was made about it. What if the real attacker felt threatened and
decided to curse Tom by planting him into the diary? The attacker might have
done it after Tom graduated just so no one could get suspicious. He let Tom go
on to his seventh year and become Head Boy, but once he was out of Hogwarts, he
put the curse on him."
Ron mulled over her words for a while. "It makes sense," Ron said. "Poor
Tom…what kind of spell do you think the attacker used to curse him?"
"I'm not exactly sure," Hermione said. "I only read up to fourth year level,
but I am certain there is a spell that does that."
"We have to tell Dumbledore," Ron said a little urgently.
"Now?"
"Yes. Hermione, he could do with any information we give him. He has to know
about Tom Riddle's diary," Ron argued.
"But Professor Snape said –" Hermione began.
"I don't care about Snape!" Ron nearly yelled. "This is about my sister and my
best friend!"
Hermione nodded, and the two ran to the portrait hole uninterrupted. They ran
to Dumbledore's office, but when they approached the large gargoyle statue,
they were faced with a problem.
"What's the password?" Hermione asked.
"Dunno," Ron said. Hermione approached the statue.
"Hello, we must see the Headmaster at once," Hermione said to the statue. "We
have information he might find useful." The gargoyle did not move.
"Weasley, Granger, what are you doing out of your common rooms?" questioned a
stern voice behind them. Ron and Hermione jumped and turned around to meet
Professor McGonagall.
"Please, Professor," Hermione spoke up. "We have to see Professor Dumbledore.
We think we found information about the Chamber and the attacker."
Professor McGonagall studied Hermione. "Very well," she said. She whispered the
password to the gargoyle statue, and she motioned to the students to follow
her. Ron and Hermione ascended the spiral staircase, but when they reached the
top, Professor McGonagall told them to stop. "Wait here," she ordered.
"But –" Ron began to protest.
"Professor Dumbledore has called me for an important meeting," she said. She
must have felt that she was a bit too harsh with Ron because she added in a
kinder voice, "I promise you that you will get your chance to speak to him when
I am done." Ron nodded. Professor McGonagall went inside.
                                      ***
Albus Dumbledore had had a nightmarish day. After he had destroyed the basilisk
the previous night, he had run down to the Chamber accompanied by some of his
colleagues and Ron Weasley. He had told them to stay back and let him go in
first just to be certain there was not another threat inside. He was glad he
had gone in first, but it was not because there was another basilisk hiding
there.
He had found a small black diary, and when he turned it over, he saw the name
of the owner across the bottom of the diary. He instantly recognized the name,
and before the others came in, the diary was buried in his pocket. Dumbledore
searched around the grim Chamber for any sign of Tom Riddle, but there was no
other trace of him.
Dumbledore had spent the rest of the night examining the diary closely. He
performed various spells on the books, checked for any wards or protections,
but he could detect nothing. He scribbled on the diary to see if anything would
happen, but nothing did. However, he could feel that a magical presence used to
be in there, a powerful magical presence.
He kept the diary in his office, unbeknownst to anyone. He planned to study it
some more, but when he entered his office some time after lunch the next day, a
pigeon greeted him from his office desk. It looked harassed and a little
scared, so Dumbledore coaxed it for a while before finally taking the letter
from it. He conjured up a small dish of water and seeds, and the pigeon
gratefully took the offer.
Dumbledore read the letter slowly. When he was done, he put the letter down,
took off his glasses, and covered his eyes with his hands. It was not Lord
Voldemort's letter he was reading because the wizard would not have signed his
name as "T.M. Riddle." It was a younger Tom Riddle writing.
Dumbledore lifted his face from his hands and looked at the diary before him.
His body must have been inside the diary all this time. There was no other
explanation for why it was in the Chamber and why there was a ghost of a
magical presence inside. Ginny Weasley had somehow found the diary and had
fallen into this mess.
From the letter, Riddle seemed like a perfectly functioning wizard. Dumbledore
had a suspicion as to why this was so.
"Horcrux," he said under his breath. This would also explain why Lord Voldemort
did not die when he tried to kill Harry Potter eleven years ago. He had split
his soul, and now this soul fragment had been released into the world and had
Harry in his grip.
He turned to the fireplace. Grabbing some Floo Powder, Dumbledore threw it into
the fire and called out, "Minerva." Professor McGonagall was not there, so he
left a note inside her office.
While he waited, he pondered Tom's letter. Whatever had happened, Tom did not
want to give up Harry for any reason. Dumbledore could not determine what Tom
was doing to the boy.
A knock on the door brought him back to reality. "Come in," he said.
McGonagall entered. "Albus, you wished to see me," she said. "Weasley and
Granger are outside. They say they have information you might find useful."
"I will speak to them after I show you this," he said. McGonagall sensed his
grave tone, and she looked worried. Without another word, Dumbledore showed her
Tom's letter. He watched her as she read, her face slowly turning pale and her
lips growing thinner after finishing reading each line.
She handed back the letter to him with a slightly shaky hand. "He has come back
then?"
"His younger self," Dumbledore corrected. "I do not believe it is the Lord
Voldemort we were faced with last year." He showed her the diary. "I believe
your old schoolmate placed a part of his soul in this diary, and the soul
inside has come out and escaped with Harry. All he needed was someone to give
him the strength to come out of the diary." McGonagall stared at the diary.
"And I take it that it was Miss Weasley who gave him the strength?" she asked.
Dumbledore nodded. McGonagall closed her eyes for a few moments before opening
them again. "Should we inform the other members of the Order?"
"I think it would be wise to notify them, yes," Dumbledore said. "There is no
doubt that Tom will seek to help his older self. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger
wish to speak to me?"
McGonagall nodded, and she went to retrieve them. Harry's two friends ran into
the room and both exploded into explanations.
"We just learned that Ginny had Tom Riddle's diary. It's enchanted."
"And we found out how the attacker escaped with Harry!"
"Is Tom out there? We think that Tom was cursed by the real attacker and put
into a diary."
"If he's not cursed, can we contact him? He can help us!"
"Tom Riddle has already sent me a letter," Dumbledore said. Ron and Hermione's
faces lighted up in surprise, but the expression quickly turned to that of
confusion and worry after noticing Dumbledore's grave expression. He handed the
letter to Ron, and Hermione looked over his shoulder.
A tense silence filled the office as they read. When Ron was done, his facial
expression had turned to that of an angered bull. Hermione's face had gone
white, and tears were beginning to fill her eyes.
"Tom was the attacker? He was the one who killed my sister?" Ron spat out
angrily. He turned to Hermione. "Did you see what he wrote? 'I do not think
little Ginny was satisfying for him.' That filthy git! And I felt sorry for
that bloody bastard!"
Hermione could not reply at first. She was crying heavily. "Wh-what did he d-do
to Harry?" she asked through sobs.
"At this point, we can only speculate," Dumbledore said. Hermione shook, and
McGonagall offered her a hug.
"He w-was a Prefect and Head Boy!" Hermione cried. "He was the top of his year.
I thought he was good!" Hermione continued weeping. "I thought he was just
misled when he framed Hagrid! I never, ever thought he would do this…"
"For many years, Tom has fooled many people," Dumbledore said gently. "Do not
blame yourself for thinking he was trustworthy. However, I must urge both of
you to not attempt to help Harry."
"Why not?" Ron exploded, completely forgetting his manners. "Harry is our
friend! He's in trouble!"
McGonagall's lips quivered, and Dumbledore's eyes momentarily twinkled sadly as
he looked at the looks of grief and guilt on Ron and Hermione's faces.
"I will deal with Tom," Dumbledore said. "He has sent me a letter, and it would
be rude of me to not reply. As for you and Miss Granger, there is something I
must inform you both of concerning Tom Riddle.
"Very few people know about what happened to Tom after he graduated, and it is
best for you both to know this and understand why you cannot go to Harry's
rescue. Harry will live, I assure you. He has, after all, defeated Tom twice
before…"
***** Chapter Four - Infinity *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
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                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                 Chapter Four
                                   Infinity
                                        
           "It is impossible that anything so natural, so necessary,
           and so universal as death, should ever have been designed
                     by Providence as an evil to mankind."
                               - Jonathan Swift
                                     *****
The first thing Harry became conscious of was a dull throbbing in his head. He
moaned at the little pain, and he moved his arm to touch his head. His arm felt
odd. In fact, his entire body didn't feel right. It felt different somehow. He
wriggled on the bed and felt silky fabric brush against his bottom.
Harry opened his eyes slowly. He was looking at the inside of a canopy, but
this wasn't his bed at Hogwarts. The events from last night slowly returned to
him…he lowered his head. His eyes bulged in shock. He was completely naked, and
there was drying blood on his stomach.
"W-What!" he yelled as he jolted up on the bed, his eyes still staring at the
blood on him. A high, cold laugh caught his attention.
"It was worth the wait!" Tom Riddle laughed as he clapped his hands. He sat
across from the bed on a comfy sofa chair, and he wore fancy black robes.
Behind him, the balcony window gave view of a mid afternoon sky. Harry briefly
wondered how long he had been unconscious.
"What did you do to me?" Harry screamed angrily. His body was a little bigger
than he remembered, and there were some unpalatable tastes in his mouth. His
eyes trailed down from his stomach to his private parts, and his expression
turned from shock to that of disgust. What was that? Tom followed his gaze and
smirked.
"I had to make you a few years older in order to collect a certain liquid," he
explained smugly. "I needed it for a spell. The potion should have worn off by
now, and you should be back in the body of a twelve year old. The only
explanation I see for this is that the spell freezes the body at the current
age. We both will never experience a gray hair. Just be glad you will not be
spending an eternity as a child and that your voice is not cracking. I do not
think I would have been able to handle your whiny voice. But do not worry;
that's not your blood on your stomach. It's mine."
"What spell is this?" Harry demanded. He was confused at Tom's words. He
brought his knees up to his chin to hide as much of his body as he could. The
sides of Tom's mouth curled. Harry was breathing heavily; how he wished he
could punch that smirk off his face!
"Immortality," Tom replied happily. Harry furrowed his eyebrows.
"Immortality?" he said.
"Yes, Harry," Tom said. "Our souls are attached to our bodies in three areas:
the brain, the heart, and the reproductive organs. This spell seals the soul in
those three areas. Nothing can tear the soul out. Not even the Killing Curse.
Yes, there's a Killing Curse, Harry."
"So nothing can kill us," Harry said slowly. "Not even if our hearts explode or
something? What if we were torn limb from limb?"
Tom's eyes twinkled dangerously. "Would you like me to experiment?" he asked.
He pulled out Harry's wand and pointed it at him.
"No thank you," Harry said as he eyed the wand. How was he ever going to get it
back? "There really is a spell for immortality?"
"Yes, but it was not known to the public," Tom said. "I was honored to see it
before Grindelwald died."
"Grindelwald…" Harry said under his breath. The name sounded familiar, and
after a moment, he understood who the wizard was. "Dumbledore defeated him!"
"And this is his manor we are in," Tom added.
"He gave the manor to you?"
"No, but his son was the last member of the family to live here. That is, until
we arrived early this morning."
"You killed his son?" Harry gasped.
"Grindelwald's son was insane and old," Tom explained in a mockingly gentle
voice. "I was only doing him a favor by ending his suffering." A chuckle
escaped Tom's lips.
Harry raised his eyebrows. How could anyone murder so easily and talk about it
so calmly? Are you human? Harry wondered.
"So you just go in to people's homes, kill them, and then take their places?"
Harry asked, seething. His eyes burned into Tom's face, but his angry
expression did nothing to intimidate Tom.
"Yes, that's basically it," Tom said casually. "Now we must get down to
business. You are not allowed out of this manor. I took the time while you were
napping to ensure that you do not get away. I have placed wards all around the
house. They will only affect you. This room and the bathroom are the only
places you can enter on this level. The first floor is completely out of
bounds, and you will only be able to access certain rooms on the second floor,
such as the dining room, and only on my command. Don't bother trying to escape
from the balcony." He pointed at the window behind him. "I have placed wards
over it as well."
Harry simply stared at him. "What am I going to do here in the meantime?" he
finally spoke up.
"Stay here until I find my older self," Tom replied.
"Your older self?"
"Yes, Harry. What did you think I was going to do with you for an eternity?"
Tom said, and his sinister eyes flashed with amusement. "I have to put up with
you for quite a long time, so I might as well use you for anything that will
benefit me."
"You're not letting me go, ever?" Tom laughed again.
"Oh, absolutely not, little Potter!" Tom replied in a high-pitched, sardonic
tone. "I enjoy your company so much that I absolutely cannot give you away. I
must have you all to myself!"
Harry wanted to kick himself for asking such a stupid question. "What happened
after I passed out?" he asked.
"I let the basilisk loose in the school," Tom responded happily.
Harry felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the fact that
he was naked. "Ron," he gasped under his breath. Losing Ginny was hard enough.
What if he also lost one of his best friends?
Tom continued to observe his worried face until he was satisfied. Then he stood
up. "I assume you would like to wash yourself off. You’re a mess," Tom said.
"The bathroom is right across from this room. When you are done, you can pick
out robes from this closest. I doubt Grindelwald's old robes will fit you, but
you might find something fitting from his wife Aderyn's collection." He smirked
at the thought of Harry wearing a woman's robes. He left before Harry could
retort.
Harry stayed where he was for a few minutes to make sure that Tom was really
gone from the room. Then he quickly got up and dashed for the bathroom. He
almost tripped on himself a couple times on his way there. He was not used to
his new height.
From the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, Harry observed his new
body. He had grown a few inches, but he was still shorter than Tom. How old was
his body? Fifteen? Sixteen? He couldn't tell, but he grudgingly had to agree
with Tom that at least his voice did not crack when he spoke.
He traced his hand over the smear Tom had left of his own blood. He recognized
the symbol from his past classes: infinity. Closing his eyes, he tried to
imagine his life up to this point and having to repeat everything over and over
and over…
He imagined living in this manor, waking up every morning and knowing that he
was caged inside with only a balcony window to look out of and watch life go
by. He imagined being dragged to Lord Voldemort, having his innards taken out,
his body used for anything the bastards wanted from him. Day in and day out he
would lay on a corner, torn apart but still alive and conscious of every wave
of excruciating pain. In the meantime, the two Dark Lords would laugh and give
another toast to their job well done after conquering the wizarding world…
Harry turned the bathroom door lock and headed to the shower. He was breathing
heavily, and his body was shaking with fury. He turned on the water, grabbed a
bar of soap nearby, and for one second, he contemplated throwing the bar at the
mirror with all his might. But he held on to it; even if the door was locked,
Tom could easily magic it open, and Harry had very few objects to defend
himself.
He kept one eye on the door. There was no telling what else Tom Riddle was
capable of doing, and Harry didn't want to be attacked while showering. While
he vigorously scrubbed the mess off himself, Harry tried his best not to think
of Ron, Ginny, and what danger Hogwarts was in. He tried his best not to think
about how much better death would be compared to living an eternity in pain.
When he was done showering, Harry was faced with a new problem. In his anger,
he had forgotten to ask for a towel to dry himself with. The only towel in the
bathroom was a washcloth that could not wrap around his waist.
What does it matter? Harry thought grumpily. He's already seen me down there.
He did more than see, a voice in the back of Harry's head reminded him. He
shook the thought away and ran back to the master bedroom. Thankfully, Tom was
not in there, so Harry dropped the towel and rummaged through the closet. He
found one of Aderyn's old robes and threw it on.
There was no way of telling that Harry was wearing a woman's robes; that was
one small mercy, at least. It was black and plain except for a simple design on
the collar made of miniature onyx jewels. The robe was a little too wide at the
waist, so Harry hunted for a sash to put around himself.
"I see that you are done dressing."
Tom's voice startled Harry. He whipped around, but Tom did not curse him like
Harry had anticipated. Instead Tom traced the doorway with his wand, and a thin
trail of fire trailed behind the wand’s path. Harry tensed; was Tom planning on
burning him? Time passed, but the fire did not spread. It vanished, and the
doorway looked normal once more. "I am locking you in while I head out for a
while."
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Harry said, glaring at Tom.
"Just sit and wait," Tom replied, as though that was the most obvious answer in
the world.
"You're just going to trap me in here whenever you want?"
"I do not see any other alternative."
Harry screamed, grabbed one of the trinkets from the nearby drawer, and threw
it at Tom with all his might. The object hit an invisible barrier in the
doorway, bounced back, and slammed Harry squarely on the nose. Harry cursed
loudly.
Tom laughed. "Take care not to break every bone in your body. I might need one
of two of them later on."
And with that, he left. Harry ran to the doorway and pounded on the barrier. It
didn't budge. What if a real fire starts, and I'm trapped in here? Harry
thought. He briefly imagined an eternal life as a pile of ash.
He turned to the balcony window and tried opening it, but that yielded no
success. All he could do was pull the curtains open to let some sun into the
grim room. Dozens of trees greeted his eyes. The manor was surrounded by them.
Where was he? From what Harry could see, there was no way any human would pass
by, no person for Harry to send signals to for help.
He fell to the floor, and he hunted frantically for a loose floorboard. He
pounded on the floor in hopes of finding a way to crawl to the second level. It
was a crazy thought, but anything was worth it if it meant escaping. He could
find nothing, and a nagging thought in the back of his head told him that he
was never going to get away. Tom had made sure of that; he was several steps
ahead of Harry.
He pulled out ever drawer in the room and dug for anything he could use to
protect himself against Tom. He searched frantically in the closet, in the
bedside cabinets, and under the beds. All he could find were clothes and other
normal objects every bedroom had, none of which could cause damage. What if Tom
has taken away anything in the room that could be used against him? Harry
wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.
Harry pulled out an old cleaning rag. He sighed and stared at it for a couple
of minutes. There was nothing else to do, so he vigorously wiped away at the
dirt in the room.
When Harry got tired of cleaning, he threw the rag away. He stood up, flopped
down on the same sofa chair Tom had been sitting on not too long ago, and
stared at out the window to a world he might never see again.
                                      ***
Tom found a fat mouse scampering about in the kitchen. He Stunned it and
stuffed the critter into his right pocket before leaving the manor. After
taking a breath of fresh air, Tom spoke into the wind."Come to me," he said in
Parseltongue. "I am here. Come." He waited. A slight slithering sound reached
his ears, and he looked around him. A grass snake was making its way towards
him.
"Hello," said the snake while it looked at Tom curiously. "I have never met a
human who could speak my tongue."
Tom smiled and crouched down next to the snake. "I am a very special wizard,"
he said. The snake's tongue darted out, sniffing the air. Its head tilted
towards Tom's right pocket. "I would appreciate your assistance, if you are
willing to help me." The snake turned its attention back to Tom's face.
"What is it you wish from me?" it asked.
"I want to locate someone," Tom explained. "His name is Lord Voldemort, and he
too can speak your tongue."
"What does this human look like?" the snake asked. "Where does he live?"
"How he looks does not matter," Tom said after a while. He wasn't certain how
Lord Voldemort looked after the incident with Harry last year. "I do not know
where he is either. If you ask the other snakes, I am sure you will eventually
find him. He adores snakes, so there would be many out there who have spoken
with him. He is not feeling well these days, and I sure he will be close to
snakes to keep him company."
"I must ask around until I find a snake that has heard of him," said the snake.
"It's an easy enough task. There are not many humans out there that can speak
to snakes. I will do my best to find your friend, and I will get back to you as
soon as I get any information."
"Thank you," Tom said, giving the snake another smile. He produced the mouse
from his pockets. The mouse was stirring from the Stunning Spell, and it
squeaked loudly and tried to escape when it noticed its situation. Tom showed
the mouse to the snake. "Here is a token of thanks for your help."
"That is kind of you," the snake hissed contently. Tom dropped the mouse, and
the snake constricted its tail tightly around the doomed rodent.
Tom stood up and walked away from the snake. He took his time walking to the
nearest Muggle town so he could enjoy the scenery around him. As he reached the
town, Tom observed the men passing by. He pointed the wand at himself and his
robes morphed into modern clothes similar to the ones the men wore.
The Muggle town looked different compared to the last time Tom had been in
town. The automobiles were designed differently and painted in many vibrant
colors. The women wore pants all the time like the men. Tom thought this was a
very peculiar and unnatural thing. Did men start wearing skirts and dresses in
this age?
Muggles were still in their love affair with electricity and electrical
devices. There were even shops solely dedicated to these silly gadgets.
Ahead of Tom was the library, and he could not resist taking a peek inside. He
spotted a few peculiar objects known as computers. What are they used for, he
wondered.
As he pondered this, he made his way to the science section. He pulled out
books about recent scientific studies and browsed through them to see what the
Muggles have been up to in the past fifty years. Under the computer section, he
found a book on BASIC language.
He snorted as he skimmed through the pages. The silliness Muggles occupy
themselves with these days! Tom laughed to himself. He put the book back in its
shelf.
A child's crying averted Tom’s attention when he stepped out of the library. A
small boy was sitting with his family outside a nearby restaurant, and the boy
was whining to his parents that he did not want to eat his meal. Tom raised an
eyebrow. Had that boy lived during the war, he would have devoured all the food
in sight.
Must there be war for the little brats to be appreciative of what they have?
Tom thought a little bitterly.
The aroma was very alluring, so Tom inched closer to the restaurant, slowly
making his way to the back. His stomach grumbled. He decided that he would have
whatever this restaurant had to offer. After checking that no one was around,
he pulled out his wand.
                                      ***
The setting sun was sinking below the horizon when Harry heard a door slam a
couple stories below; Tom had just entered the manor. Harry stiffened in his
chair. He turned around and faced the doorway to make sure that Tom would not
hex him from behind.
"Missed me?" Tom said mockingly as he undid the magical ward around the
doorway.
"I missed you so much I didn't know what to do with myself," Harry grumbled.
"Good," Tom replied coldly. "I have prepared dinner, if you are interested."
With all of his worries about Ron and escaping the manor, food hadn’t crossed
Harry's mind. He was a little thankful he would not be starved, at least not
tonight. He left the room and looked to his left. There was an entire hallway
there, but when he went to explore, his face smashed against the invisible
barrier. He was blocked from that entire section of the house. Did that mean
that he would be sleeping in the master bedroom?
He turned back around and made his way cautiously down the flight of stairs.
Was the entire house this dark? With an outstretched hand, Harry felt his way
around the house. Tom was not there to guide him, so he was on his own. He
bumped into more invisible barriers before his nose finally caught the aroma of
the meal.
He entered the dining room. Tom was already eating, paying very little
attention to Harry. Harry's plate was waiting for him across from Tom. As he
took his seat, Harry could feel Tom's eyes on him.
The meal before Harry seduced him; he hadn't realized how hungry he was until
now. However, he didn't pick up his fork.
"How did you get this?" he asked Tom. "You don't have money to pay for all
this." When he saw the sides of Tom's mouth curl, his anger rose. "You didn't
kill someone, did you?" Tom just laughed and continued eating. Harry wanted to
throw his plate at Tom's face, but when he looked down, his stomach protested.
It was best to put that food in his stomach instead.
He grabbed the fork, then hesitated. He looked up at Tom again.
"I didn't poison it," Tom said casually. "Are you going to eat at all?"
"I'm not hungry," Harry said stubbornly. His stomach protested again, begging
to be filled. Just one little bite, Harry thought. Nothing more. He cut a small
piece of his steak and put it in his mouth. He savored the rich taste. Before
he knew what he was doing, he was already cutting up another piece. Just one
more bite, he promised himself. He ate another piece, then another, then
another…
"Not hungry, he says," Tom said, chuckling to himself as he watched Harry
devour his dinner.
                                      ***
Harry stayed in his seat long after he was done eating. He felt stupid just
sitting there. He wasn't sure what to do next. Many places in the manor were
sealed away from him; was there any other room he was allowed in?
He finally decided to explore around. He left the dining room and banged into
something he could not make out in the darkness. How the hell could Tom see his
way through?
He's used to the darkness, Harry thought. He lives in darkness. He is darkness.
Minutes later, after banging into more objects and invisible wards, Harry
finally saw a small ray of light being emitted from between the cracks of two
huge doors. When he got closer, Harry realized the doors belonged to a library;
the contours of an engraved open book on the door could be vaguely discerned in
the hallway. The floor beneath his feet creaked.
Before Harry could try opening the door, it slammed open. Tom stared down at
him with dangerous eyes. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. The spacious
room inside was lit by numerous candles.
"I just wanted a book to read," Harry said bitterly. "I can’t even do that
now?"
Tom sighed impatiently as though Harry was taking away precious time from
whatever Tom was doing. He stretched out his hand and muttered "Accio fiction
book." Without even looking at the cover, he thrust the novel at Harry and
slammed the door closed.
"How am I supposed to read this in the darkness?" Harry yelled. The door opened
and a lit candle with its holder flew out. Harry caught it just before it fell
to the floor. The small fire was not extinguished.
Must be lit magically, Harry thought.
He made his way back up to his room without as much difficulty as before. The
balcony windows gave him a view to a summer night sky dotted with many stars.
Harry could tell that they were very far from any Muggle towns since the stars
were so easily visible without streetlights or light from houses to obscure
them.
Harry settled back on the sofa chair and looked at the book cover. It was
titled The Enchantress and the Unicorn, and the cover showed a beautiful maiden
with long wavy hair wearing a simple white dress. She was merrily playing with
her hair while a unicorn nearby was grazing on the grass. Harry blushed
slightly. It was a feminine book, something from Aderyn's collection.
Harry doubted Tom would agree to give him another book to read, so he flipped
to the first chapter and began to read. The story wasn't bad, but Harry wasn’t
interested in stories about young maidens and their loyal pets going on sugary
adventures. He was repeatedly reminded of the girly cartoon shows Dudley
constantly made fun of.
Harry's lips trembled slightly. How were his relatives going to take the news
of his abduction? He had never thought he would wish this, but Harry wished he
could go back to his relative's place instead of being here. He had finally
found a place he hated more than the Dursley's residence.
He continued reading. It wasn't until he reached the third chapter that Harry
realized the story was not as innocent as he had originally perceived it. The
narration went on to detail activities that, after taking a closer look at the
words, Harry realized were not innocent at all. He looked back at the front
cover and gasped. What's she doing to that unicorn's horn?
He threw the raunchy book aside, blushing. He had had enough of reading for
tonight. He got up and threw himself down on the bed. He covered his eyes with
his arms and tried to forget the activity he had just read about. How could
anyone be so vulgar with unicorns?
Grindelwald and Aderyn were a Dark wizard and witch he answered himself. They
had sick interests.
He heard footsteps, and he lifted his arm from his eyes. Tom had entered the
bedroom, and he was resealing the ward in the room. Harry quickly sat up.
"What are you doing here?" he said. Tom looked at him.
"It's my house," he said. "I can do whatever I want."
"It's my room," Harry retorted. Tom smirked.
"It's my room, little Potter," Tom corrected. Harry's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Where's my room then?" he asked.
Tom gestured around the room. "I will allow you to sleep here," he said.
"Here? On the same bed?" Harry said, not believing this. He wanted to be as far
away from Tom as possible.
"The bed is very big, in case you haven't noticed," Tom said coldly. "Be
grateful I am not forcing you to sleep on the floor or the sofa like the dog
that you are. I've bothered myself with you enough already."
Harry began to understand. Tom had indeed taken the time to make sure he took
out anything in the room that might have been used against him. He didn't want
to waste his time cleaning out another room. And that was why Harry was allowed
dinner; Tom didn't want to hear Harry's stomach.
Anything that makes me uncomfortable is fine with Tom, even sharing the same
bed, Harry thought. "What if I have to use the bathroom sometime during the
night?"
"Hold it in until the morning," Tom answered.
That's stupid! Harry thought angrily. "I'll pee on the bed!" he warned loudly.
Before he knew it, Tom pointed the wand between Harry eyes.
"If you are idiotic enough to do that," Tom said threateningly, "I will cut off
everything down there! Your penis and your testicles!" Harry instinctively
crossed his legs.
Tom then did something that surprised Harry: he threw the wand on the bed.
After taking some clothes from the closet, Tom left for the bathroom.
Harry stared at his wand. It was just a few inches away from him. How could Tom
be so careless? He reached out his hand. He gave a little scream when his
fingers brushed against the wand, and he yanked his hand away. The wand was
extremely hot, as though it had just been taken out of a furnace. Harry blew on
the little burn wound. Now he knew why Tom had thrown the wand towards him, the
bastard.
Tom returned wearing a long nightshirt. With one look at Harry, Tom understood
what had just happened. He laughed lightly, and Harry shot him a filthy look.
Tom ignored him as he settled on the bed and placed the wand on the bedside
cabinet next to him. Harry edged as far as he could away from Tom without
falling off the bed. Thankfully, Tom did not talk to him; his back was turned
towards him.
Harry looked down at his own robes. Although it was a simple outfit, it was not
appropriate to sleep in. He wasn't sure if he should risk getting up and
disturbing Tom. Instead, he wiggled under the sheets, took off the sash and
robe, and rolled them into a ball. He kept them close by so Tom wouldn't steal
them the next morning. He took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside
cabinet next to him.
Hours passed, and Harry was still awake. His mind was too aware of the
situation he was in: abducted, naked, immortal, his friends in danger, his
enemy sleeping a couple of feet from him…
Tom was sleeping perfectly fine. He had no worries about Harry hurting him. He
had taken away every possible weapon from Harry. Harry was a prisoner in this
grim house.
He listened to the slow rhythmic breathing from the sleeping Tom. Soon the
breathing was all he heard. His eyes began to droop. Tom's breathing rocked him
gently to sleep.
                                      ***
Harry was sitting on a simple grey bed with thin sheets. A book lay open on his
knees, and his attention was absorbed in the pages. The words were blurry, but
Harry somehow knew that the story was interesting.
A voice averted his attention, and he looked up. A woman, blurry around the
edges, was standing in the doorway. She was telling him something he could not
comprehend, but Harry nodded his head. It felt like the most appropriate
action.
The woman left and an old man stepped in. Harry gaped slightly at the sight of
a young Albus Dumbledore smiling at him. His long hair and beard was auburn,
and he wore a suit made of plum velvet. The colors of his hair and suit clashed
vividly.
Harry's eyes returned to Professor Dumbledore's face. He was talking, but the
words did not reach Harry's ears. Professor Dumbledore stretched out his hand,
and after hesitating for a moment, Harry took it.
                                      ***
Harry woke up right away, grinning. Had he just dreamt of a Dumbledore fifty
years younger? What was that plum suit all about?
He would wear something like that, Harry thought dreamily. What a silly dream!
Nonetheless, it made him a little bit happier than he had been a couple of
hours ago.
The wall before him was basked in a dark blue light. It was early morning, and
Harry had a few hours left before the day started. Still smiling, he closed his
eyes and reentered sleep.
                                      ***
At that same moment, Tom opened his eyes. Where did that dream come from? He
had been dreaming of when he had first met Dumbledore, yet there was no
alteration or exaggeration of the actual events as there tended to be in
dreams. It was almost like he was reliving the past…
Tom snorted and closed his eyes. It's just a stupid dream. There's no
significance whatsoever to this. He went back to sleep.
***** Chapter Five - The Birth of Tom *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                 Chapter Five
                               The Birth of Tom
                                        
               "He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried."
                         -Mrs. Cole, Half-Blood_Prince
                                     *****
Tom was not having a pleasant morning although it had started off nicely. He
woke up to find Harry sleeping very close to the edge of the bed in a fetal
position. From what Tom could see, the boy was naked. Tom snickered and he
magically cast the covers away from Harry, exposing him to the morning cold.
Harry grunted in his sleep, but did not wake up.
Tom was surprised to see the snake from yesterday laying on the front porch of
the manor.
"Have you heard any news this soon?" Tom asked.
"No, I'm sorry," the snake said. "None of the snakes have heard anything from a
man that speaks their tongue. Sorry I could not find him. I searched
everywhere."
Tom's eyes narrowed. "How far did you search?"
"All around this forest" the snake said proudly as though that was a great
accomplishment.
Tom sighed exasperatedly and brought one hand over his eyes. "If I wanted to
find someone in this forest, I could have easily done it myself," he said. He
steadied himself so he wouldn’t lash out at the dim-witted snake. "I want you
to search other lands, lands beyond this forest and Muggle town."
"There are other lands?"
"Yes!" Tom nearly screamed. "How old are you? You never traveled outside this
forest? Never mind. Just search the entire country! Have other snakes join in
with you! You must find Lord Voldemort!"
"Yesss, sir," the snake said, and it continued to sit in its place. It kept
staring at Tom.
"I don't have any mice with me," he said coldly. "Just go. Find him."
"Yes, sir," the snake said. "I will do that now."
He watched the snake slither away into the forest. He hoped the idiot wouldn’t
mess up again, and if it did, it would suffer greatly.
Tom spent enough time in the Muggle town to get breakfast. When he returned, he
found an owl waiting for him in the living room. He set the cartons of
breakfast down and went to retrieve the letter from the owl. However, instead
of a letter, the owl carried a flat rectangular package. Tom gave the owl a pat
after taking the parcel, and the owl left right away. Tom settled down on a
nearby sofa chair and unwrapped the package.
It was a mirror. Before Tom could do anything, it vibrated in his hands and an
image began to form on the mirror. It was not Tom's reflection looking back at
him, but instead an old bespectacled wizard. Tom brought his legs up on the
sofa chair and crossed them. He propped the mirror on his legs and rested back
on the chair.
"Hello, Professor," he greeted casually, as though it were just yesterday that
he had last seen his former teacher.
"Nice to see you, Tom," Professor Dumbledore said. "You are looking quite
healthy for your age."
"I found a terrific way to preserve my youth," Tom said.
"I noticed. I have your diary with me."
"So you returned to Hogwarts? You never leave that place for long, do you?" Tom
smiled. "I brought a friend into the school. Have you met him?"
"I killed the basilisk," Professor Dumbledore said a little pleasantly. "I am
relieved to report that it did not take away any more lives." Tom bit his lower
lip, a bit disappointed. But it did not matter. He would rid the world of
Muggle-borns soon enough. "Where is Harry?"
"Upstairs, naked, and unconscious," Tom replied.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "What have you done to him?" he demanded.
"Nothing life-threatening," Tom assured him. He couldn’t stop his mouth from
twisting into a sinister smile. He was sure his eyes were flashing red at that
moment. He thought he caught a glint of tiredness on Professor Dumbledore's
face. "There is nothing I can do to endanger his life, Professor. Harry Potter
will live on forever, as will I."
"What do you mean? Where are you right now?"
"Does it look like I will tell you, dear Professor?" Tom laughed.
"Are you in your father's house?"
"Getting colder."
"Don't play games with me. You murdered a young girl, and you took a boy -"
"And did things to the boy that would make your hair rise on end," Tom quickly
added. He received a frown from Professor Dumbledore. Tom briefly wondered how
far he had to go in order to push the old wizard into a heart attack.
Professor Dumbledore continued to survey him for a while before speaking. "I
get the sense that you have done something you will later regret."
"I fail to see how that is possible," Tom said in a mockingly sweet voice.
"Care to enlighten me?"
Professor Dumbledore ignored him. "I also sense that you are hunting for your
older self."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"It is wise not to go after him, if you wish to follow an old man's advice."
"Why is that?" Tom raised an eyebrow.
"You haven't seen what your older self is like, Tom. He will not care about
you. He will hurt you - kill you - if it means great gain to him."
Had Dumbledore lost a few brain cells? Tom wondered. He shrieked with laughter.
"I must disagree, Professor. My older self will welcome me with open arms.
Together we will cure the cancer that is spreading in the wizarding community."
"No, Tom, listen -"
"My breakfast is getting cold, and I am growing hungry," Tom interrupted. "I
must go now. Do get some rest, dear Professor. It seems like the lack of a good
night's sleep has made you delirious."
"Tom -" Dumbledore tried again angrily.
"Please do not bother sending another one of these mirrors to me," Tom
interrupted again. "Goodbye, good sir." With his wand, Tom magically banished
the mirror from his lap. It disintegrated in midair.
"Tom?"
Tom turned around to the source of the voice. Harry was standing outside the
living room, looking in.
"Who were you talking to?" Harry questioned. He sounded a little sleepy.
"Nobody," Tom replied coldly.
"Was that Professor Dumbledore?" Harry continued. "I thought I recognized his
voice."
"You're hearing things in your head," Tom said.
"No I'm not," Harry said firmly. "There was something about a basilisk."
"None of your precious friends were hurt," Tom snapped. A wave of relief passed
over Harry, and Tom felt angry at himself for giving away this fact. He got up
and pushed Harry aside. "Follow me if you want to eat something this morning."
Harry was silent until he was halfway done with his pancakes.
"I know it was Professor Dumbledore," he said, more to himself than to Tom. "He
sounded very tired."
"You think too much about Dumbledore," Tom grumbled.
"I think I do," Harry said. He stared at his own plate, and a tiny smile broke
on his tried face.
"Why are you smiling?" Tom asked.
"Nothing," Harry said. "Just remembered a dream I had last night."
"Was it about pretty pink unicorns that saved you from an evil castle full of
desolation and anguish?" Tom guessed sarcastically.
"No," Harry said firmly. "It was about Dumbledore when he was younger. He wore
a purple suit, and I thought it was funny."
Tom quickly tried to hide his look of shock, but Harry caught a flicker of it.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Tom ignored Harry's question and tried to appear nonchalant about Harry's
dream. However, his mind was alive with thoughts and questions. Harry had
dreamed the same dream Tom had last night...except it wasn't exactly a dream.
It had really happened.
Was Harry glimpsing into my past? Tom wondered. He kept his eyes on Harry until
the smaller boy started to feel uncomfortable.
                                      ***
That night, Tom dreamt that he was being chased. A playground came into view,
and he climbed up the steps of the tallest slide. There was a roof that
shielded part of the playground from rainy weather and sun. He was not supposed
to be up there, but he continued climbing towards it. He wanted to be on the
highest point.
When Tom reached the top, he tripped over his own shoelaces. He fell off the
playground set face forward, but he did not hit the ground. Instead he hovered
a couple of inches above the ground. He heard shouts, and he turned his head to
see four boys ganging up on him. The leader of the gang was blonde and fat. He
stared at Tom, surprised at seeing the position he was in.
                                      ***
"Had any more dreams about Dumbledore?" Tom asked the next day at breakfast.
Harry shook his head. "Did you?"
Tom snorted. "My dream was stupid. I was chased by this obese blonde kid that I
could have easily hexed, yet I didn't."
Harry gasped. "You dreamt about Dudley too?"
Tom's eyes bore into Harry's face. "Dudley?"
"That's my cousin," Harry said before he could stop himself.
"So you had the same dream last night?" Tom said.
"Well…" Harry hesitated.
"This actually happened in your life," Tom guessed.
"Yeah," Harry said, surprised. "How did you know?" Tom just sat there staring
at Harry. This wasn't a good sign...He got up abruptly and left the dining
room. He ran to the library, picked up Grindelwald's notebook, and heatedly
scanned through the notes of the immortality spell.
Grindelwald had said nothing about the two partners getting visions of each
others' pasts. Perhaps he didn't know what would happen, having never performed
the spell himself. Tom almost ripped the notebook to shreds, but instead he
threw it at the walls.
His mind and Harry's were linked...Harry was going to look into his past during
the nights...Tom didn't want to share his past with anyone, especially not that
little nuisance!
He tried to calm himself. At least he could also look into Harry's past...It
couldn't be that bad...
                                      ***
If it weren't for the dreams, Harry's time in the manor would have been
uneventful. Tom paid little attention to him during the days. Tom was out of
the house for most of the morning and afternoon, and when he was in the house,
he was usually locked up in the library. Harry was mostly sealed in the bedroom
except for bathroom breaks and meals. He found that keeping the curtains closed
preserved his sanity; he didn't have to look outside at the beautiful world
around him, but the downside was that he soon lost track of time.
The only times Harry and Tom spoke to each other were during meals and right
before Tom went to bed. As long as Tom's agenda did not include taking Harry
into the laboratory and cutting him up, Harry felt he was in no immediate
danger.
Eventually Harry got another book from Grindelwald's library. He didn't dare to
return The Enchantress and the Unicorn in case Tom took a look at the cover, so
he lied that he had lost the book. Tom didn't believe him, but he gave Harry
another book just because he didn't want to be distracted from his work any
longer.
The new book was just as bad as the first, but this time it was not because it
was raunchy. It was written long ago when sentence structures were different
than what Harry was used to, and many of the words were archaic. Harry found
himself dozing off after the first page or two, which he did not like. The only
thing Harry was uncomfortable with was falling asleep during the day. There was
always a chance Tom would attack and hurt him if he napped. Whenever he felt
drowsy from the ancient book, Harry would slide out from bed and do something
else.
Harry passed the time by cleaning, and when things got too clean, he would
purposely mess up a section just so he could have something to do. The bedroom
became the most spotless room in the manor.
Sometimes Harry attempted simple exercises and imitated what he remembered
seeing in kung fu movies. He wished he had learned any form of martial arts.
Lord Voldemort, the Darkest wizard of modern times, gets defeated by a karate
kick to the head, Harry imagined. He laughed.
The dreams became more and more vivid as the days went by. Harry could not just
see the past but also could hear, smell, and sense everything. Sometimes he was
in Tom's body, and other times he was in someone else's body or completely
invisible to everyone in the world. He had the most freedom to look around and
feel the textures of Tom's world when he was just a phantom.
The dreams came in no particular order. He dreamt of Tom in the orphanage, at
Hogwarts, and in other places Harry did not know. He could not predict what he
was going to dream of next. The same was true whenever they revisited Harry's
past. There were even visions of Harry's life that he did not remember.
Tom was vicious whenever they revisited his past. One night Harry was jolted
awake to Tom screaming at him to get off the bed and sleep on the sofa chair.
Harry complied, but when he went to take the covers with him, Tom fought to
keep the entire blanket to himself. In the end, Harry slept on the sofa chair
with the blankets only covering his stomach and privates while Tom slept close
to the foot of the bed, grumbling under his breath the entire remainder of the
night. They both held tight to the blanket.
He didn't have to blow up like that, Harry thought angrily as he stared at the
lump on the bed that was Tom. All I saw was a four-year old version of him
being spanked by one of his caretakers.
Harry decided to pester Tom with what he had seen in the dream. "Is your butt
still red like a tomato, Tommy?" Harry asked innocently during next breakfast.
"You were such a cute yet naughty little brat." He dodged as Tom sent a cup
flying into his face.
The following night, Harry dreamt of a time when he was three. He wanted to get
his Aunt Petunia's attention, but she was busy tending to Dudley. Harry kept
tugging at her skirt and calling out her name. He then tugged too hard, and the
skirt fell to the floor. Aunt Petunia shrieked, and Harry received a big slap
across his face.
It was Harry's turn to get pestered during breakfast the next day.
A few nights later, Harry dreamt that he was flying on a broomstick for the
first time, and he was holding on for dear life. He was terrified of flying,
but he tried his best to cover it up with a calm expression.
A classmate ahead of him looked back and smiled. Harry was surprised at her
haircut. It was very short and curly. He didn't remember any of his classmates
with this hairstyle...then it occurred to him
I'm in Tom's memories again. Harry looked around him at 1930s Hogwarts. He was
surrounded by Slytherin students, most of who looked more proper and clean than
the Slytherin students of Harry's time. It felt odd to see the Slytherins look
at him and giving him a big smile and wave. Tom must have been popular at
school.
Down below, he heard an unfamiliar voice call the students down. Some of the
students flew down and landed without trouble. Others took time but still
landed safely. Harry, on the other hand, didn't know what to do. He couldn't
maneuver the broomstick anymore. He tried going down, and suddenly he was
plummeting to the ground at lightening speed.
No! No! No! Harry thought fearfully. He let out a high-pitched scream.
Harry woke up, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hands. He couldn't
stop himself; the giggles erupted. Two hands grasped him around the neck.
"Let me go!" Harry choked and fought back. Tom's eyes were flashing red from
the rage, and he was blushing. Tom dragged Harry out of the bedroom and threw
him into the bathroom. Harry's back collided with the bathtub, and a bolt of
pain struck his shoulder. Harry moaned and massaged the wound.
"It's not my fault you're a horrible flyer!" he screamed at Tom. "You would
laugh too if it was me!"
"Because you deserve to be laughed at!" Tom yelled. "But not me! You never
laugh at me!" He looked like he was about to throttle Harry, but fortunately he
didn't. He slammed the door instead and put a ward around it, leaving Harry
behind in the dark.
Harry made himself comfortable in the bathtub. He shivered because of the cold
surface although he was wearing an undershirt that belonged to Grindelwald.
Having a blanket would have been nice...and some underwear. He rested his head
on his arms, but he couldn't fall asleep.
An idea was developing in his mind. Although Harry was caged in the manor with
nothing to defend himself, he still had a great weapon: an insight into Tom's
past. Tom obviously was not pleased by this. Harry was not pleased by the link
either, but maybe there was something that could explain things to Harry about
Tom...maybe it could show Harry why Tom became the way he was…
The next day Harry waited until Tom left the manor after breakfast. He
retrieved The Enchantress and the Unicorn from where it lay under the bed. On
the cover, the maiden and her unicorn were lazing about on the grass. Harry
tugged hard on the front cover in order to rip it out from the book.
He accidentally ripped the cover art right along the unicorn's neck. Although
he couldn't hear her, the enchantress seemed to be screaming and grieving over
her torn unicorn. Harry felt bad, so he quickly ripped out the artwork and
crumpled it to end the misery. He threw it aside and returned to the hardcover.
He shredded it down into sturdy strips and set them aside when he was done.
Turning his attention to the drawer, Harry picked out a small glass sculpture
of a bluebird. Hopefully Tom would not notice it was missing. Harry took the
glass model and cracked it against the bed frame.
Carefully he brought a sharp edge to the tip of his left index finger. Red
droplets seeped from his finger as he made an incision. He squeezed some blood
onto one of the strips. He took the strip and began writing on the free space
inside the book.
Harry recorded all the visions he had of Tom's past. It took him several days
to learn to write neater, slower, and smaller. He had to steady his hand and
pretend that he was painting because the strips were not as sturdy as a pencil
or quill.
Harry would consider his words carefully; he would write down the shortest
possible sentences in order to save space. Afterwards he would look over his
notes. He tried to arrange the notes to see Tom's life in chronological order.
The earliest memory written down was when Tom was about two, and the latest was
when Tom was fifteen.
Most of the dreams showed a Tom who was cruel to humans and animals. There was
even a dream where a toddler Tom ripped open a teddy bear. Harry shivered at
the memory. Tom had had a look of great bliss on his face as he carefully cut
the toy down the middle and pulled the stuffing out. He was clearly enjoying
hurting the toy. When one of the caretakers caught him, his face flushed and he
quickly hid the evidence of the torture. Was Tom always this way?
From Harry's notes, it seemed like Tom was a rotten boy from the very
beginning. However, there were some dreams that were puzzling. In one a child
Tom was looking out the window of the orphanage and watching a man approach the
building. Excitement was mounting in his little chest, and when the man passed
the orphanage, the excitement deflated. Tom slinked away from the window,
feeling disappointed.
Another time Tom was looking out the window to the rainy sky. An odd feeling
was inside of him. He was cold and shivering slightly, but it was not because
the room was cold. The chills were coming from somewhere deep inside him. Harry
was in Tom's body in this vision, and he had found the feeling odd and
extremely uncomfortable. He woke up feeling as though he was close to tears,
but he couldn't explain why. All he knew was that it was the most terrible
feeling in the world, and he never wanted to feel it again.
In both cases, Tom had avoided Harry's eyes the next day.
Harry wondered what those memories meant. Many times he wanted to ask Tom but
decided against it. What was the likelihood that Tom would answer anyway? He
was more likely to rip Harry's innards out, and Harry wanted to avoid those
situations as much as he could.
Then one night he had a dream that changed the way he saw Tom Riddle.
                                      ***
Harry was standing in the corner of a small office. The air was a little
chilly, yet there was a festive feeling in the air. The window gave a view of a
snowy night. Outside the room he could hear voices of women telling children to
go to bed. At that moment, two women walked in. They made no indication that
they saw Harry was there. He looked down at himself and saw his own body. He
was just a ghost in this dream.
"There is nothing to it," one of the women said. She was twice as old as the
second woman. She walked with her head held high and spoke confidently. "Feed
them, clothe them, make sure they don't get into disagreements…"
"Yes ma'am," the other woman said. She was skinny and smaller than the older
woman. While her eyes were sharp and intelligent, she looked nervous. Harry
recognized this woman from previous dreams. She was one of Tom's caretakers,
Mrs. Cole.
"You will do fine, honey," the older woman said when she noticed Mrs. Cole's
nervousness. "You did well for your first day. Here, let's have a drink."
"Oh, is that all right?" Mrs. Cole asked. She eyed the wine bottle in the
woman's hands a little greedily. Somewhere far from the room, Harry heard
knocking.
The older woman laughed. "It's New Year’s Eve! We can have a little fun while
the dumplings are asleep."
Mrs. Cole smiled and accepted her drink. She suddenly didn't seem as nervous as
before as she gobbled down the wine.
"Mrs. Armstrong!" a woman cried as she ran into the room. "Come quick!" The
older woman, Mrs. Armstrong, swiftly left the room. Mrs. Cole slipped another
glass of wine for herself, drained it, and then left. Harry followed her.
He was led to the front of the orphanage. There a homeless woman lay on the
floor. Harry couldn't stop from gasping loudly. If it wasn't for the bulge on
the woman's belly, she might have easily been mistaken for a skeleton. Her body
was emaciated, and her face was just a skull with pale skin stretched over it.
Her tired and weak eyes pointed in opposite directions, and her hair was
nothing more than thin wispy strands. All she wore was a plain grey dress that
was torn in places and not appropriate for the weather outside. She looked up
at the women, her eyes begging. A clear liquid surrounded her legs.
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Armstrong said. "Her water's broke!" She picked the woman up
with her strong arms and ran to the nearest room with a bed. Harry and the
caretakers followed close behind.
The woman was settled on the bed, and some of the caretakers began fusing over
making her comfortable while others prepared her for the labor.
"Poor little ducky," Mrs. Armstrong said as she folded a small towel. "What is
your name, dear?"
The woman had difficulty speaking "M-Merope."
"Merope?" Mrs. Armstrong repeated, and Merope nodded.
"What kind of a name is that?" one of the caretakers whispered to another.
"Maybe she belongs to the circus," Mrs. Cole suggested in a quiet voice so no
one else could hear. She gestured to Merope's eyes, and the women giggled.
"Surname?" Mrs. Armstrong asked.
"R-Riddle."
"Where is your husband?"
It took Merope a while to answer. "Gone." She sounded miserable.
"He's dead?"
"No. Gone."
The caretakers exchanged looks, understanding what had happened.
Merope groaned in pain. The baby was coming. Harry saw one of the caretakers
spread Merope's legs wider, and he turned around so he wouldn't look. Mrs.
Armstrong placed the towel in Merope's mouth, and she began dictating to Merope
what to do.
While the caretakers focused on the area below Merope's waist, Harry focused on
her face. It was taking every remaining ounce of energy for Merope to push. A
few times she looked like she was about to pass out. It was painful to watch.
He remembered what Tom told him weeks ago: My father was nothing more than a
filthy Muggle who left my mother before I was born, all because he found out
she was a witch!
Harry looked back down at Lord Voldemort's mother. He wished he could comfort
her. She shouldn't have suffered so much just because she was a witch. For one
moment her eyes rolled and landed on Harry as though she could see him. Harry
would never forget the look on Tom's mother’s face.
"It's going to be all right," Harry found himself whispering to her.
Merope gave a final scream, and there was a little cheer behind Harry.
"It's a boy! A son!" one of the caretakers announced. The baby was born. Harry
spun around to see a small infant in one of the caretaker's hands. It was not
screaming or moving.
"Now that won't do," said the caretaker who held the infant. She turned him
around and gave a little slap on his bottom. Tiny soft cries followed, but it
didn't last long. The caretakers laughed.
"He's quite the proper gentleman," Mrs. Cole teased Merope. "Likes to keep to
himself, I see. Most of the babies I've seen would notify the entire land that
they were born."
"I hope he looks like his papa," Merope said. Harry didn't like the way her
face was turning paler.
"Was he handsome?" Mrs. Cole asked. Merope nodded, and Mrs. Cole's eyebrow rose
in surprise. She looked like she wanted to ask how a handsome man ended up
marrying someone with her looks, but decided against it.
"Please," Merope said to Mrs. Cole a little urgently. She was having difficulty
breathing. "Tom."
"Tom," Mrs. Cole repeated. "Is that what you want to name him?"
"Yes. His papa's name. Marvolo."
"Marvolo?"
"Second…name. My…papa's name."
"Ah, his middle name," Mrs. Cole said. She turned to the caretaker that was
cutting his umbilical cord. "Betty, the boy's name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"Tom Marvolo Riddle it is!" Betty said happily. When she was done with the
necessary work on Tom, she wrapped him up in a blanket and handed him to Mrs.
Cole. Smiling, she held him toward Merope. Merope extended out a hand to touch
her son for the first time, but when she was just an inch from the boy's face,
her hand suddenly fell. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her body shook
and her breathing came out harsh and heavy.
"Take him away!" Mrs. Armstrong ordered immediately.
Mrs. Cole nodded and left with Tom. Harry wasn't sure where to go next, but he
decided on following Mrs. Cole. He didn't want to witness Merope's death. He
had seen her suffer too much to want to see any more.
Mrs. Cole took baby Tom to a small room that had a counter, a sink, and various
objects that were needed for raising an infant. She was swaying a little from
the wine, but it didn't affect her duties. She filled a basin with water and
pulled out a couple towels, a cloth with a pin to be used as a diaper, and an
extra blanket. She gently washed Tom in the basin, humming merrily to herself.
Tom momentarily opened his eyes at one point during his first bath. Harry
looked into them. They hinted at an intelligent and quick mind and a strong
will. There was something else in there that Harry could not describe. Whatever
it was, it was not unpleasant. Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling at him.
Tom was an adorable baby.
While Mrs. Cole bundled up baby Tom in the new blanket, a caretaker came in to
inform Mrs. Cole that Merope was dead.
"The poor thing died?" Mrs. Cole said a little sadly, although there was
something else in her voice. "Well, I really couldn't see how someone in her
condition was going to survive."
She set Tom on the counter far from the basin. "Wait here," she said to the
infant. "I need to get you something to eat." Harry, however, thought he saw a
hungry look in her eyes. Something else was in her mind; she was still thinking
about the wine bottle. The two caretakers left, and Harry was alone in the room
with tiny Tom.
She better be back with milk, he thought, although a part of him felt that she
was going to get drunk. She had eyed the wine bottle and slipped herself an
extra glass. She seemed to have a fondness for alcoholic drinks, and something
told Harry that she wasn't going to have a woman's death affect her New Year's
Eve celebration. After all, she was giggling earlier at how Merope looked.
Sure enough, Harry could hear some of the women tittering outside. He couldn't
believe it. They were actually celebrating. Harry sighed.
After a while, Tom began crying softly. Harry turned to him. Did Tom want to be
fed? Did he want a diaper change? Harry waited. None of the caretakers came to
help Tom. Then again, Harry suspected that they couldn't hear Tom's soft voice
from far away. It was quieter than the babies Harry was used to hearing
screaming in public places.
Slowly, the cries grew louder and more urgent, and still none of the women
came. Have they forgotten him? Harry wondered. Time passed, perhaps an hour,
and no one passed the room. Couldn't Tom have died from not being fed?
Harry inched his way closer to Tom, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine.
There was an uncomfortable feeling in the room. Harry felt cold, but the
feeling did not come from the weather. It came from somewhere deep within
Harry.
I felt this before, Harry realized. He hated this feeling.
The baby opened his eyes once more. For one moment, something inside Tom's eyes
dimmed. Tom stretched out his arms as though he wanted someone to hold him. For
some reason, Harry found himself stretching out his hand and touching Tom even
though he knew that the child would not sense him.
"No," Harry said, although he didn't know why. "No." Tom's eyes momentarily
resembled the familiar dead stare Harry knew so well. The crying ceased, the
arms slowly fell back next to his tiny body, and Tom stopped moving.
Finally, Mrs. Cole came back. She had a milk bottle in her hand, and from the
content look on her face and the way she walked it seemed like she had drank to
her heart's consent.
"Hey, I didn't hear you crying at all," she said as she approached Tom. Her
speech was a little slurred. "You really are a gentleman."
She picked Tom up and found a comfortable chair in the corner. Harry watched
closely. Tom didn't respond to Mrs. Cole's actions as she held him in one arm
and placed the milk bottle next to his mouth.
"Why aren't you drinking?" Mrs. Cole said. "You're supposed to drink it." When
time passed and Tom still refused to take it, Mrs. Cole thrust the bottle into
Tom's mouth. He refused to drink. Suddenly looking a little worried, Mrs. Cole
squeezed on the bottle, forcing the milk into the baby. Tom wiggled and cried
out crankily. Some milk leaked out from the side of his mouth. He was refusing
to drink, but Mrs. Cole held on to him tightly, determined not to let him have
his way.
He wasn't sure what to think of Mrs. Cole. The same woman who had neglected Tom
so she could drink was now saving his life from an early death.
"There," she said as the milk gushed down his throat. "There, you're drinking.
Never refuse this again, got that? You could die from starvation. Your mother
wouldn't want that." She smiled down at Tom, but he did not even look at her.
He was stiff in her arms and unresponsive to any little signs of affection.
Harry's eyes couldn't leave tiny Tom. This is where it all started. His chest
constricted painfully. Poor Tom…
                                      ***
Harry woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up and faced the wall. His eyes
burned. The vision he had just witnessed was the most painful thing he had ever
seen. He couldn't stop stretching out his arm, wanting to touch that little
baby and comfort him...
Harry felt aggressive movement behind him. He turned around to see Tom pointing
his wand right at Harry's face. Tom was breathing heavily, his eyes were lit
ablaze with rage, and his face was twisted into the most dangerous look Harry
had ever seen on any living being.
***** Chapter Six - The Product of Illusion *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                  Chapter Six
                            The Product of Illusion
                                        
                   "You waste your time with hate and regret
                                 You're broken
                          When your heart's not open"
                             - "Frozen" by Madonna
                                     *****
Tom and Harry stared at each other, not moving for what seemed like hours.
Harry was the first to speak.
"Tom, don't -"
"Crucio!" Tom shrieked as he waved his wand frantically. Harry dodged the
spell, but that did not discourage Tom. "Impedimenta!" Harry dodged again, but
he couldn't keep evading Tom's spells forever.
Taking a huge risk, he swiftly leapt across the bed. Harry kicked Tom hard on
the stomach before he could respond. Tom soared backwards towards the wall, and
Harry took that moment to seize the arm that held the wand. He pulled it away
from Tom's body and held it against the wall just as Tom screamed, "Obliviate!"
The spell scarred the wall to Harry's left.
"You're not going to erase my memory of that dream!" Harry yelled, holding the
arm in place and moving closer towards Tom so that he couldn't kick Harry.
"Even if you did, I might have the same dream some time in the future!"
"Then I'll hack your brain out from your skull!" Tom screamed while he
struggled against Harry's grip on his wand. His free hand grabbed Harry's
shoulders, but Harry couldn't push him away. All his energy was spent on
keeping the wand arm against the wall.
"How will that stop the visions? You know that I cannot be killed!"
Tom grabbed Harry's neck with his free hand and squeezed hard. He pounded his
feet hard against Harry's shins. Harry fought against the suffocating grip. He
kicked his knee upwards. A shout followed, and Tom released him.
He staggered a foot away and saw that he had kicked Tom between the legs. Harry
took the opportunity to pry the wand from Tom's hand. Tom recovered from the
blow and lunged at Harry.
They collided, but they did not let the pain stop them. Harry pushed Tom off
him. They wrestled for the wand, and in the effort, they toppled to the floor.
The wand flew out of their reach. Tom made for the wand, but Harry seized his
arm. He shifted to get on top of Tom, and he forced Tom to lie on his stomach.
He pulled Tom's arms backwards.
Harry held Tom's wrists against his back. Tom was too strong and could break
away from Harry's hands at any moment, so Harry left Tom's hands and wrapped
his arms tightly around him, crushing his upper arms to his side. His legs
snaked around Tom's upper legs and squeezed them together. He threw his head
down against Tom's shoulders.
Tom had trouble moving; his hands and lower arms were crushed by Harry's torso,
and he couldn't move his legs. All he could do was angrily scrape against
Harry's stomach with sharp fingernails. Harry grunted in pain, but he held on
tightly.
The wand lay a couple of feet from the two boys. They both eyed it.
What was the spell Tom used to summon the wand? Harry wondered. Amio? Oclio?
No, that wasn't right...
They stayed in this position. Tom continued to fight, but the intensity of his
struggle was gradually lessening as he tired. Tom was losing circulation in his
arms and hands, but Harry was not going to loosen his hold on him. Tom rested
his head sideways on the floor. Harry raised his head and stared at him,
watching him as his eyes went back to being dark. He was staring into space,
and his face had an odd expression, a faraway look. His lower lip was trembling
slightly every now and then. Harry had a feeling his lips were not trembling
because of anger. The dream had shaken Tom.
"Was this the first time you ever saw your mother?" Harry finally spoke.
"She didn't have a photo album with her," Tom responded bitterly. "I never knew
how she looked until now."
"She seemed like a nice person."
"She's a horrible person!" Tom screamed shrilly with near-insanity in his eyes.
His eyes ignited bright red. The look drove Harry's heart up to his throat,
pounding painfully. Tom began thrashing underneath Harry again. "She left me
with those filthy Muggles!"
"You saw how she looked! Giving birth to you took all of her energy!" Harry
screamed as he struggled to keep Tom pinned to the floor. His voice was surely
cracking with terror. If Tom slipped out from his grip, he was certainly going
to rip Harry to shreds.
"Are you suggesting that I killed my mother – that I deserved the childhood I
had?"
"No! It was just bad timing. It was New Year's Eve, Mrs. Cole was getting
drunk, and…" Tom stiffened in Harry's arms.
"Bad timing, was it?" he hissed in an oddly sardonic voice. His eyes narrowed,
and his voice lowered to barely a whisper. "I came at a bad time. I was not
needed, uninvited." Harry had an uneasy feeling that at that moment, Tom was
only speaking to himself.
"That's not what I meant!" Harry said quickly, shaken by Tom's behavior. He's
crazy! "It was not your fault. It was nobody's fault. Everything just…sort of
worked against you. I'm sorry."
Tom snapped out from the momentary daze he was in. "What for?" he asked
crossly. Tom raised his head just a fraction of an inch although he couldn't
see Harry.
"You had a terrible first impression of the world," Harry explained as calmly
as he could. "How was the rest of your childhood?"
"You saw what my childhood was like!"
Harry was curious about one thing, and he had to get the answer from Tom.
"There was a dream where you were peering out a window. Were you looking for
someone?"
Tom didn't reply. He lay still in Harry's arms. Harry relaxed slightly.
"You were watching a man, and when that man passed the orphanage, you were
disappointed," Harry said, eyeing Tom closely. "Were you hoping that man was
your father coming to take you?"
Again, Tom didn't reply.
"I thought you hated him, based on how you spoke about him in the Chamber,"
Harry went on, "but there's no other explanation for who you were hoping that
man could be. Did you used to like your father?"
"I hate my damn father!" Tom shrieked, and he began to violently struggle
against Harry again. "I hate him! I hate him! I never loved him!"
"And your mother?"
"I hate my mother as well!"
"Why?"
"WHY?" Harry's ears were going to burst from being so close to the shrieks.
"Why? I met my father the summer before I entered the diary. I pulled out
information from him, about my mother, about their time together. He never
loved her! She slipped a love potion into his drink, and for a couple of
months, he was under an enchantment! He finally broke out of the spell after my
mother got pregnant. He left her, left her homeless on the streets! It served
her right, the slut!" Harry wasn't sure what to say. He noticed that Tom's lips
quivered slightly as he spoke. Something was happening to him...
"But...your mother loved your father. And she loved you."
"No, she didn't love me! All the time she was with him, she thought only of
him!"
"But, that doesn't mean she doesn't love you."
"You don't get it, do you?" Tom hissed. "When they conceived me, there was none
of this silly love between them! My mother had an obsession with my father. My
father was under a spell. They're love was an illusion. I was the product of
illusion! I was never created from love! I was never loved!"
Harry's chest tightened; he could only imagine how miserable he would feel if
he found out his parents never conceived him out of love...Harry's arms slowly
molded into a tight hug around Tom. "You weren't unloved," Harry said sadly.
"I don't believe you," Tom spat. Harry caught a faint trace of sadness in his
voice. "Even when she gave birth to me, she still thought of him!"
"How do you know that?" Harry asked curiously. He knew that this was going to
set Tom off again, so he tightened his grip on him. Sure enough, Tom went
berserk at the question.
"My name, you idiot!" Tom began screaming again. His eyes ignited bright red.
Harry held on tight as Tom thrashed again underneath him. "She gave me his
filthy name!"
Harry didn't see why that was a problem. "Maybe she liked the name Tom," he
suggested.
Tom shrieked. "No! She was thinking of him! Look at where her obsession led
her! She never cared about me! It was only thoughts of him that occupied her
idiotic mind!"
Harry mulled over the scene of Tom's birth in his head, recalling all he can
about Merope. "Well...I think you're wrong, Tom. I think your mother did love
you," he finally said as calmly as he could.
Tom stopped trashing. "How?" he said angrily.
"If she really didn't like you and didn't want you, she could have easily
killed you before you were born," Harry explained. "She could have saved
herself the trouble of having you, but she didn't. She went through all that
torment just to give birth to you. She found an orphanage to put you in, so she
must have known that she was going to die; she wanted you to be taken care of.
She even went out of her way to give you a full name that connected you to your
ancestors. What kind of a parent would name a child they hate and was trying to
get rid of? She wasn't going to be there for you, so she gave you a name in
which you can one day research and reconnect with your family. Doesn't that
mean anything to you?"
"No!" Tom said hotly. "That proves nothing! She never felt anything for me!"
There was tightness in his voice that betrayed him. It puzzled Harry at first;
it sounded as though Tom was hurt...
Harry raised his eyebrows. "You love your mother!" he blurted out.
He felt Tom stiffen again in his arms. "I...don't...love...my...mother!" Tom
hissed dangerously.
"Yes you do!" Harry argued. "You deny it, but the love is there."
"I don't love her!" Tom insisted.
"Then why else did you kill your father?" Harry challenged.
"Because he left my mother after finding out she was a witch! He abandoned us!"
Tom yelled.
"There you have it," Harry said, feeling triumphant. "You do love your mother.
Your love for her makes you sad when you think of what your father did to her."
"That's not true!"
"I think you loved your father at one point too."
Tom's eyes widened. "You're out of your mind! I never loved my father! I would
never care for someone who abandoned me!"
"Really? Then why did you feel disappointed in that dream where the man you
were watching passed the orphanage?"
"I wanted someone to take me out of that horrible place!" Tom retorted.
"And you were hoping that man was your father."
"I never said that!"
Harry was not going to let Tom go easily. "Okay, so you don't like your father.
But why did you make a new name for yourself that used all the words in your
birth name? If you really wanted to cut ties with your father, you would have
come up with a brand new name. A part of you still wants to connect with your
past, doesn't it?"
Tom's mouth fell. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard! I don't want to
connect with my father!"
"Then why not make a new name? Why did you use your old name?"
Tom didn't respond. His mouth kept opening and closing, unable to find a
suitable answer.
"I think a part of you deep down inside doesn't want to let go," Harry said,
smiling.
"You're saying my action was subconscious?" Tom said, startled at himself.
"Yes," Harry said simply.
Tom continued to stare into space, looking shocked, before he shook his head
vigorously. "No! That isn't true! I don't love my father! I hate him!" He began
trashing violently under Harry again. His eyes grew unfocused and mad; the
sight made Harry's heart plummet. Tom wasn't in his right mind anymore; his
words switched unpredictably between English and Parseltongue. Harry wanted to
get away from the madman, but he didn't want to know what Tom would do to him
if Harry let go. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! Filthy Muggle disowned
me! Filthy Muggle left me to die! I killed him, the scum bastard! He deserved
it! He deserved the death I gave him!"
"I understand how you feel," Harry said, desperate to calm Tom down. It was
becoming hard to hold him down. "I would have been angry, too, but I never
would have killed my own father."
Tom's thrashing lessened to just a few irritable twitches and jerks. "Even if
he was a filthy Muggle?" he asked Harry in Parseltongue.
"What is it with you?" Harry replied. "You got your immortality! You achieved
the one thing many wizards and Muggles alike have always dreamed of! Why do you
still want to hurt people? Why are you so against Muggles?"
He immediately regretted his question. It ignited something within Tom that
made him finally break free from Harry's hold. Tom screamed and jumped up;
Harry fell off Tom's back and collided on the floor. Tom shook his arms to get
the blood back into his circulation. Before Harry could escape, Tom grabbed his
wand and bodily attacked Harry. He pressed Harry down on the floor, crushing
Harry painfully down by pressing his knee on Harry's abdomen. His free hand
wrapped around Harry's throat.
"Why am I so against Muggles?" Tom repeated venomously. He pointed his wand
between Harry's eyes. "Have you ever read history books? Ever heard of witch
burnings? For many years we were oppressed! Our kind had to take extreme
measures to ensure that Muggles would never know of our existence and of our
world! We had to hide from them because their narrow minds cannot accept us!
"And look at what this earth has gone through in the past fifty years alone:
The Cold War! The Vietnam War! The Korean War! The destruction of the Middle
East! The Gulf War! The list goes on and on. And that's not all...there is this
little Muggle invention called the nuclear bomb that has the power to destroy
this entire planet. This world we wizards have spent centuries thriving on is
in danger!
"And for what? Muggles not only cannot handle witches and wizards, they also
cannot handle living with each other! What kind of immortal life will I be
living with these fools continually jeopardizing my world, slowly edging this
planet into a nuclear winter that will destroy all the magical herbs, plants,
and animals that we wizards so painstaking have taken care of all these years!"
Tom sneered demonically, and he gave Harry's neck a little squeeze. "Oh no. I
will not allow them to get away! They must be all eliminated! Every one of
them!"
Harry struggled against Tom's hand so he could breathe.
"So your solution is to just destroy everyone," Harry said desperately. "That's
no different from what those Muggles are doing."
Tom just stared at Harry. Harry smirked. "That's what you're turning into," he
continued. "Magical abilities aside, you're nothing more than a stupid, filthy
Muggle. You're no better than them."
Tom continued to stare at Harry. His fingers tightened around the wand; Harry's
eyes determinedly didn't leave Tom's. They held the stare for several minutes.
Finally, Tom moved. His free hand let go of Harry's neck. At first Harry
thought Tom was going to curse him, but instead Tom just struck Harry across
the face with his hand. Tom swiftly rose to his feet and dashed out the door.
"Tom!" Harry called out. He got up and ran, but he was knocked backwards by the
invisible ward. He heard the front door slam, leaving behind a ringing silence.
Harry rubbed his ears and the spot on his abdomen where Tom's knee had been. He
got back up. He was slowly becoming aware of how much his legs trembled.
Considering how enraged Tom had been, Harry was lucky to only have a reddened
cheek. He flopped down on the bed.
What a madman, Harry thought as his heart's beat steadied. He needs to be in a
mental hospital, at the least.
Faint light was seeping into the room; it was early morning, but Harry couldn't
go back to sleep. His mind kept replaying Tom's birth over and over in his
mind. He could almost see the newborn in front of him, crying to be fed...
Their love was an illusion. I was the product of illusion! I was never created
from love! I was never loved! Tom's words rang out in Harry's mind. Harry shook
his head, remembering Merope stretching out her hand. No, you were loved Tom.
Your mother loved you; why can't you see that? Are you denying it because you
don't want to feel the pain?
Harry stayed in bed although he couldn't sleep. The morning sun lit the room,
but Tom did not return at the usual time with breakfast. Harry didn't move from
his place. He didn't have the energy to go under the bed to fetch the book he
used to record all of his visions of Tom. He doubted this dream would ever
leave him. He thought of all the other visions he had had of Tom. His mind
replayed every event he knew of Tom's life. Was it just Harry's imagination, or
had Tom slowly lost the light in his eyes over the years?
Hours passed, and still there was no sign of Tom. By early afternoon Harry
dozed off but was soon jerked awake by the loud cawing of a raven nearby. He
listened intently for any sign of Tom in the house, but he couldn't hear any
creaks or taps on the floor. Where was Tom?
Please don't let him have murdered anyone, Harry prayed.
Night fell, and Harry found himself sitting up on the bed, hungry, watching the
doorway and expecting Tom to enter at any moment. When Tom didn't come, Harry
slipped under the covers, trying not to make a lot of noise. It didn't feel
right to make a sound in the large, empty manor. It was too quiet. Somehow when
Tom was around at night, there seemed to be a little more life in the grim
manor.
This was going to be the first night Harry slept alone in the old manor. Harry
gave the doorway one last look before turning around on his stomach and burying
his face on the pillow.
Harry fell asleep instantly, and when he awoke it was mid-morning. He listened
for any sounds of Tom. Nothing. His stomach grumbled.
He climbed out of bed and ran to the doorway.
"Tom!" Harry called out. "Tom, are you around?" No reply. "Where are you?"
Harry yelled desperately. Don't let him have murdered anyone, please! Harry
prayed again as he edged back to the bed. He imagined an elderly Mrs. Cole
being choked to death by Tom. He tried to shake the image away.
The rest of the day was uneventful; Harry did nothing but lay in bed feeling
hungry. He found a box in the closet which he used to relief himself since he
couldn't leave the room; he hid the box deep enough in the closet so that he
wouldn't smell anything.
It was late afternoon when Harry suddenly heard the front door slam. He sat up.
Tom finally appeared. He stood in the doorway, and the two boys' eyes locked
for several seconds, Harry half-expecting to be cursed at any moment. Tom broke
the contact and approached. He sat on the bed, right across from Harry. His
shoulders were drooped and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He was
tired, but his eyes were burning a little angrily. One of his hands clutched a
brown paper bag. Harry could smell food, although he couldn't identify what
kind it was. It had to be something out of the ordinary or exotic; over the
weeks Harry had learned that Tom enjoyed trying out new dishes.
"What is it all about?" Tom demanded, frustrated. Harry stared at him.
"What's what all about?" Harry asked.
"Love!" Tom yelled, looking a little irritable.
"What about it?"
"What's so great about it? I passed a lot of Muggle towns the past two days,
and I overheard a lot of songs about love. 'All you need is love,' or 'don't
you want somebody to love?' You'd think that people would have had enough of
silly love songs! Muggles are obsessed with it! So is Dumbledore. But what
makes it so great if pain is felt? If it is love that I for my mother, then why
does it hurt?"
Those words affected Harry, but he tried to answer Tom's question as best he
could. "Well, love can be complicated, I think. Sometimes it makes us sad, but
usually love makes us happy."
"I was happy when I killed my father. Was I feeling love at that moment?"
"No," Harry said, grimacing. "You were being sadistic."
Tom ignored the comment. "I went researching in a Muggle library to see if I
could find any scientific explanation of love. One of the books I found was by
some idiot named Sigmund Freud. He claimed that my greatest desire is to kill
my father and have intercourse with my mother. The former was correct, but I
don't...I wouldn't..." Tom stared at Harry with tired, searching eyes. "Do you
think I have burning passion for my mother?"
One corner of Harry's mouth twitched. "No, I don't think you do. There are many
kinds of love."
"Really?" Tom said incredulously, one eyebrow raised.
"Yeah," Harry said. "I love my friends, but it's different than how my dad
loved my mom. I love Quidditch, but it's different from how I love my friends."
"How?"
"I don't know," Harry said. "It's just different."
"Do you ever feel pain when you think of Quidditch?"
"No."
"What about your friends?"
"Sometimes. I miss them right now. Last summer I thought they had forgotten
about me because I didn't get any letters from them, and I felt sad. But I feel
happy when I think about them sometimes. I think about days when we had good
times together." Harry smiled, but the contemplative frown on Tom's face
diminished it. Harry suddenly wished he hadn't said anything.
"So because I never had a good moment with my mother, I will never be happy
whenever I think of her?" Tom asked after thinking over Harry's words.
"Not really..." Harry said hesitantly. "You can always think of the love she
had for you. I don't remember my parents, but I sometimes feel happy when I
think of them."
"That's because your parents held you!" Tom suddenly screamed. "Is that what
makes us different from each other? Your parents touched you, but my mother
never touched me! Is that what makes me so incapable of understanding this
outrageous phenomenon?" His eyes widened. He had just let something slip.
"The memory of your mother is really affecting you," Harry said. "And you saw
the part where she failed to touch you. It was out of her control, Tom. She was
dying. If she had more energy, I'm sure she would have held you in her arms."
"Stop," Tom hissed harshly. His body was trembling slightly, and his eyes began
to burn red again.
"I'm sorry," Harry said earnestly, hoping that Tom doesn't go insane again.
They stayed silent for a while. Tom was trying to regain control, although it
was difficult due to how fatigued his body was.
"I don't believe in love," Tom finally spoke. "I see no logic in it. I couldn't
find any scientific reasoning for it except for what Freud and others have
said, and I do not believe a single word of it." He grumbled under his breath.
"Sleep with my mother...what is next? Kiss a pear tree?"
"I guess love is something science can't explain," Harry said, trying not to
laugh. "If it was something everyone understood, then we won't have so many
long love poems out there."
"Or silly love songs," Tom added. He snorted. "Love is supposed to make you
happy and strong, but all I ever saw of it was misery and weakness."
"Weakness?" Harry said, bewildered. "If love is a weakness, then how would you
describe my mother? Her love for me nearly destroyed your future self, the
greatest Dark wizard of modern times! Some weakness that is!"
"Your mother was weak," Tom insisted. "She let her emotions get herself killed
for a person she only knew for a year."
"My mum was strong!" Harry argued. "It must have taken a lot of courage to
stand up to a murderer! And your mother was strong too. Imagine being in her
place. Would you have gone through pregnancy out in the cold homeless for
months?"
"I would never be in her place because I would never kill myself over someone!"
Tom said angrily.
"Perhaps," Harry responded. "Still, it must have taken her a lot of strength to
go through it. Her love for you made her strong."
"And her love for my father made her weak," Tom added.
"I'm not going to defend your father," Harry said. "What he did was wrong.
However, you shouldn't have killed him."
"What do you suggest I should have done?" Tom asked, frustrated.
"Ignore him," Harry said. "It would have been better to succeed in your life.
Then if your father ever saw you, he would see a man who became very
accomplished, and he would feel bad for neglecting you. You just don't go
around killing anyone who hurts you. I would never kill the Dursleys."
"Even though they never showed any affection for you?" Tom stared at Harry, a
little disbelieving.
"Never. It's called restraint, and that, too, is a sign of having strength."
Harry felt proud of what he just said. Tom just stared at him.
"Are you saying that I am weak?" he questioned, his narrowed eyes never leaving
Harry.
Harry weighed his words carefully. "You are strong in many ways," he said, "but
you do have a weakness. You said you would never kill yourself over someone,
but you already have. You let your anger at your father and your hatred of your
life in the orphanage control your actions. You could have had a better life.
You're not lacking anything. You had a choice, Tom, and you didn't make the
right decision.
"You're very intelligent. You were Prefect and Head Boy. From what I've seen of
the students in your time, they were generally more studious than my
classmates. You were up against a lot of smart people, many who had more
magical background than you did, and you got the badge and awards. That's a
huge accomplishment. You could have gotten any job you wanted with your grades.
"And you're very handsome. You could have married and had lots of kids if you
wanted; you would have been surrounded by a lot of people that loved you.
Instead, what did you do? You allowed your father to control your anger. You
became obsessed with seeking immortality. Well, you got your immortality, but
don't you ever miss the life you used to have? Don't you ever feel awkward in
this new world?
"A lot has changed since you entered the diary, and you didn't have the time to
adjust to the changes. And your friends...did you have any friends? All of them
are going to eventually die. Everyone you know is going to be gone in the
future. Don't you think it's better to die as well than to be trapped in a
world where you will be all alone? Sure, I'll be around, but I doubt you will
have me in one piece for very long."
Harry sighed. "Look at where all of this has landed you. The last time I saw
your future self, you were weak and ugly. You were attached to the back of a
teacher's head. You didn't have a complete body anymore. What kind of future is
that? You ruined yourself!"
Tom deeply contemplated Harry's words for a long time. His eyes were focused on
a space beyond the bed. Harry watched him, hoping that Tom would start to
understand.
"I didn't want to leave Hogwarts," he finally said in a low voice. The comment
was more to himself but Harry caught it.
"You liked Hogwarts?" he said. "I understand how you feel. Do you want to go
back, become a student, graduate, and find a job?" His eyes widened as an idea
came to him. "There's still time for you, Tom! Your older self made a huge
mistake, but you can correct it! There's still a chance for you!"
Tom just stared at Harry, looking more tired and irritable than before. "Go
back to Hogwarts? With those idiots you call classmates?" he said. "I know more
magic than any of them!"
"Then what would you rather do?" Harry asked. "Would you like to be a teacher?"
"No, dummy. It's my greatest ambition to be the caretaker," Tom replied
sarcastically. His eyes glassed over for a second. He rubbed his eyes. "My
favorite subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said after a while.
"I had two teachers for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry said, "and they
were terrible. And I was looking forward to the subject. Too bad…" Harry gave a
little laugh. "Professor Riddle! You would have made a great teacher, even if
you were a little mental."
Tom continued to look at him blankly. Harry gave Tom a little smile. At that
moment, Harry's stomach grumbled loudly, gaining Tom's attention.
"Here," Tom said as he handed Harry the bag.
Did he save this for me? Harry wondered as he pulled out something he has never
eaten before. He bite into the crispy coating and tasted the soft, spicy
center. "It's a falafel," Tom explained.
"Thanks," Harry said between chews. "Where did you get it?"
"A Middle Eastern restaurant in another Muggle town," Tom answered.
"Another town? What did you do all this time?"
"I walked."
"That's it?" Harry stuffed pita bread into his mouth in hopes of rubbing out
the spicy taste. "You didn't...hurt anyone?" he asked after swallowing.
"I didn't kill anyone, little Potter. If you truly want to know, all I did was
contemplate."
"Contemplate what?"
"Everything."
Harry watched Tom closely. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked.
"Does it look like I did?" Tom laughed lightly. He leaned a little to his right
and almost collapsed off the bed. Harry took hold of him.
"You need rest," Harry said. "Here, come sleep." He pulled the covers aside
from where Tom usually slept. Tom, however, got up and went for the door. "Come
back!" Harry called out, but Tom ignored him. "Can you at least allow me to go
to the bathroom?"
Tom complied without a word.
"Thanks," Harry called out, suddenly feeling a little lonely.
Harry put the bag aside and jumped off the bed. He took the box out of the
closet so he could dispose of it. As he made his way to the bathroom, he
thought about his recent conversation with Tom.
He really doesn't understand love at all, Harry thought. He says he doesn't
love his mother and father, but I think there's something inside him that is
still connected to them. This thing...this capability to feel love...it's faint
and tiny inside him, but it's still in there. He doesn't notice it.
If I can just take that tiny piece of love in him and make it grow...of course,
I cannot completely change him, but it would be better for everyone, including
Tom, if he understood love. He doesn't realize how much he has hurt himself.
Teaching him love could make him respect himself more. Maybe I can help him. If
he just listens to me, I can teach him about love...
                                      ***
Tom made his way to the library. His head pounded painfully from lack of sleep,
and there was an annoying throbbing behind his left eye.
A stack of parchments lay in front of the sofa chair Tom rested on. Tom took
one glance at them, groaned, and shoved them aside. He didn't want to see those
parchments on which he made plans for what he and his older self were going to
do once they united. He didn't want to think about finding his older self. He
just wanted the mental image of his mother to leave his mind.
But she wouldn't disappear. Tom rested across the sofa chair and closed his
eyes. Over and over Tom saw his mother in front of him. She would raise her
hand to touch him, but every time she was an inch away from him, that emaciated
hand would fall away. Tom stretched out his hand absentmindedly, wanting to be
touched by her. He couldn't erase the image of her face no matter how much he
tried. She was embedded in his mind, constantly dying in front of him.
Leave me alone! I don't love you! Tom yelled angrily at his mother.
Then why did you make a new name for yourself that used all the words in your
birth name? Harry's question came back to him.
I don't know, Tom thought angrily. For the first time in his life, he couldn't
answer a question. He remembered the night he fashioned his new name; it was on
his first night at Hogwarts. His excitement at being in a special place had
inspired him to make a new name as special as the castle he lived in. While his
other dormmates had slept, Tom had stayed up and written his name on one of his
notebooks. Then, slowly, he had played around with the letters until he found
the perfect name.
Why couldn't he have used a completely different name? It just seemed natural
to use his birth name, as much as he hated it.
It doesn't mean I want to stay connected to my family! Tom thought desperately.
Tom curled on the couch, hoping he can fall asleep instantly. Instead, he
remembered the time he had seen a dead infant outside the orphanage. It was the
summer after his third year. One morning he woke up to the sounds of a
caretaker screaming. She had gone outside to throw out her garbage, and in the
trash can she had found it. The newborn had been bloody from head to toe, and
its umbilical cord had still been attached. There had been no sign of the
mother anywhere. Tom had gotten a chance to glimpse the baby before it was
taken away. The image never left his mind.
I could have been that child, he thought a little fearfully. My mother could
have just disposed of me, but she didn't. She could have saved herself and
killed me, but she let me live. Is that what love is? Letting others live? He
shook his head. I cannot understand it! It's completely illogical! How can love
be beneficial for one being and fatal to another? If love can harm, why do
people bother with it?
"I hope he looks like his papa," his mother's voice rang out in his head. Her
eyes bore into his happily. Tom let out a little scream.
"Get out! Get out of my mind! Please!" he pleaded. One hand pounded on his
skull a couple of times. He ran his fingernails down his face, scratching his
cheek. "I hate you!"
Opposite of Tom, on the library wall, the two figures in the painting watched
Tom.
"What has gotten into him?" Aderyn asked her husband. Grindelwald shrugged.
"Are you all right, boy?" she called out, but Tom didn't respond. He was busy
trashing about and scratching himself violently. Aderyn giggled. "Oh, he has
lost his mind, he has!" she said gleefully.
She sang out lullabies in the most mocking and cruel voice she can muster. She
didn't leave Tom alone for hours. It wasn't until Grindelwald began criticizing
her for her taste in picture frames that she got angry and stormed out of the
painting, finally bringing peace back to the library.
Tom didn't thank Grindelwald, but the older wizard didn't seem to mind. He
resumed his previous activity of staring out the painting stoically.
Tom didn't leave the library for a few days. He mostly slept, and when he was
awake, he couldn't shake his mother off his mind. Reading a book did nothing to
distract him. Tom didn't even look at the parchments with his plans. He had
almost forgotten about his work.
One night he dreamt he was a baby held by a pretty witch. She lay across a big
bed, and she held him high over her head.
"How's my little baby?" she cooed at him. "Are you happy, Harry? Yes, you are!
Happy Harry!" She giggled and smiled cheerfully at Tom, her green eyes
sparkling.
Tom woke up shaking. Why did he have to see that vision? Damn Harry and his
happy infanthood! Tom tried to stop his imagination from taking over, but it
was too late. Harry's mother morphed into his own mother. Merope smiled at him
as she played with him.
Tom jolted up in the sofa chair. He was having trouble breathing. Something was
about to erupt from inside him. Again and again his mother smiled at him,
holding him up above her head. Why couldn't that have been me? Tom thought
angrily. Why couldn't I have been with my mother for at least one year? His
hand traveled up to his neck, brushing against the rosary he had worn since as
long as he can remember. His fingers tightened around the cross. Why? he
mentally screamed. Why was I given this life! Why couldn't I have been held by
my mother? In his mind, his mother cooed softly to him.
He threw himself hard on the sofa chair. A few dry sobs erupted.
"Mother..." Tom moaned softly. "He abandoned us, Mother...you abandoned me..."
The pain was too much to handle; the tears began to roll down, and Tom tugged
at his hair. He wanted the pain to stop. If this was how love was going to feel
every time he thought of his mother, then he never wanted to feel love. What
was so great about it? He had to stop these agonizing emotions, but he
couldn't. They had taken hold of him, refusing to let go no matter what he did.
Fortunately, Grindelwald didn't ask any questions. He left Tom alone with his
conflicting thoughts and emotions.
The next morning, Harry knocked on the library door. Tom stayed silent and
didn't move an inch.
"Are you in there, Tom?" Harry asked, sounding a little worried.
Of course, Tom thought grumpily. Harry also had the dream of his mother.
"Are you all right? I hope you are."
Get out of here! he mentally yelled at Harry.
"Are you hungry? Sorry I can’t make you anything. I can’t get into the
kitchen."
Go away!
"I'm not sure what else to say," Harry said after a while. "I'm not good at
comforting people. If you want to talk, I'll be around. I mean, where else
would I be?" There were a few moments of silence, and then, "I don't know what
else to say. You've murdered a lot of people, you've done a lot of horrible
things, and yet there's also something about you that...I don't know...I feel
bad for you. You could have been a wonderful person if you hadn’t taken the
path that you did. Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you're...never
mind."
I'm crazy, that's what you want to say, Tom thought bitterly. He looked down at
his fingernails and wondered how horribly scratched his face was.
"I think you need some help," Harry said. "Please leave the library soon. I
don't want you to be alone." Silence followed; Harry had left.
Tom tried to raise his head, but he found it difficult. He turned around on the
sofa chair instead. He had to leave the library eventually, which meant he had
to face Harry again. There was no doubt that Harry was going to start talking
about the matter of love again.
He sighed. Love was too fatuous to comprehend. Maybe if he just listened to
what Harry said about love instead of arguing against everything he could start
to understand this strange entity and why many people were obsessed with it.
It will also put my mind at peace if I finally understand this phenomenon, Tom
convinced himself.
He closed his eyes, and sleep took over.
***** Chapter Seven - Scars *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                 Chapter Seven
                                     Scars
                                        
                    "The first duty of love is to listen."
                                - Paul Tillich
                                     *****
The large snake raised her head and sniffed the air. She decided that it was
time to move on from her spot on the grass. A child human had seen the snake
and panicked; its screams were still ringing in the air. Very soon its parents
would come over and try to kill the snake.
"Silly human," the snake said to herself, "there is no need for this nonsense!
I was never going to hurt you!" She slithered away as fast and far as she
could.
Humans had to be the most peculiar creatures she had ever seen in her life.
They were a paranoid bunch, frightened of everything in their environment.
Their excitement always doubled whenever they came near another animal. "I have
had enough of smelling their fear for a day!"
While passing the forest, she heard a snake call out. She turned her head
around, but she could not find the fellow snake. If he's smaller than me, I
will have him for dinner… She followed the call until she found the source.
It was the strangest thing she had ever seen. It was nothing like a snake. A
small, grayish, cloud-like creature was nestled on a patch of grass.
"Come to me," it hissed.
"My, what do we have here?" she said. "You're nothing like the other snakes
I've seen before."
"I am a human," the cloudy creature said.
"A human?" the snake asked, amused. "I've seen a lot of humans in my time, but
none like yourself. I never thought they could speak to me."
"Only a very few can," the human said. "I am a wizard, and I lost my body due
to an unfortunate accident. I haven't been well ever since."
"Isn't that sad," the snake commented.
"I would greatly appreciate it if you could nurse me back to health. I will
never forget your kindness. I will protect you from all harm."
The snake coiled herself around the tiny wizard. He was icy cold.
"I don't know how I can help you," she said. "I've had children in the past,
sixty of them, but they were nothing like you."
"You will be of great help," the wizard assure her. He climbed over her back as
though he were a grayish slime oozing over her. "I need to use your venom."
Before the snake could ask how he could do that, the wizard grasped the sides
of her head with phantom arms. She felt her jaw snap open, and the cloud rushed
into her mouth. He suckled the venom from her fangs; his body grew warmer with
each swallow.
When he was done, he let go of her jaw. The snake stared at the wizard's body,
a little dazed. Although it still resembled a small cloud, there was a visible
black curved line across the middle. She suddenly felt an odd attraction
towards him; she wanted to protect him...
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"Yesss," the wizard hissed. "Thank you. What is your name?"
The snake had to think for a bit. It had been a while since she had told her
name to another snake. I'm getting old, the snake thought. What was it my old
mate used to call me?
"I am called Nagini," the snake finally said.
"I am Lord Voldemort," the wizard said. "You can address me as 'my lord.'"
"Yes, my lord," Nagini said.
"I want you to take me somewhere," Lord Voldemort said, "to a place that will
help cure me."
"Yesss, my lord," Nagini said, and she slithered out of the forest, following
the directions her new master gave her.
                                      ***
Tom found the energy to leave the library the next afternoon. He first checked
to make sure Harry wasn't walking around in the manor; then he quickly slipped
out and headed for the nearest bathroom.
A chaotic mess greeted him at the mirror. His robes were twisted around his
body. His eyes were severely bloodshot, and his hair was more unruly than
Harry's. It was apparent that he had been crying.
It's been only two months since we came here, Tom thought sulkily, and already
Harry has shaken me in ways no one ever has in my entire life.
Tom splashed water over his eyes before heading to the shower. When he was
done, he checked his eyes to see that they gave no indication of his tears. He
threw the old robes over himself and headed for the bedroom.
Harry was sitting on the bed, reading a book and looking as though he was about
to fall asleep.
"Tom!" Harry gasped when he noticed Tom was in the room. He quickly perked up.
"How are you?"
Tom ignored Harry's question. "I'm going to head out for a while." He paused,
staring at the nuisance that had witnessed his birth. "Do you have an appetite
for anything in particular?"
"Not really. I'll have anything you get, thanks," Harry said. He looked a
little surprised. Tom quickly left before Harry could bombard him with
questions.
                                      ***
Harry stared at the spot Tom had been earlier, still surprised at what had just
happened. Did he just ask me what I wanted to eat?
He smiled and went back to his book. Although his eyes scanned over the words,
Harry's mind didn't register their meanings. His mind was still distracted by
Tom.
                                      ***
When Harry entered the dining room he watched Tom's every move. He was going to
go in for his first attack once dinner was underway.
Tom was finishing laying out the meal he had gotten from a Muggle town. He
gestured for Harry to take a seat across from him. Harry, however, sat next to
Tom. Tom looked as though he wanted to protest, but instead he decided to
ignore Harry.
Harry watched Tom as he scooped a large spoonful from every fancy dish.
"This meal had to be very expensive," Harry commented, frowning. He knew that
Tom didn't have the money for the meals. "How are you getting all this?"
"It's a secret," Tom said, smiling. "After what I went through, I believe I am
entitled to this. Besides, I enjoy eating."
"I noticed," Harry said. "You like food; the fancier, the better."
They ate in silence for several minutes before Harry spoke again. "You saw the
vision of my mother and me." Tom suddenly looked a little tense, but he ignored
Harry. "I never remembered being with her. The dream made me a little sad. I
miss her."
"You never knew her," Tom said, looking up at Harry.
"True, I never did know the kind of person she was," Harry said. "But if she
came back to life and I met her, I would be nice to her. Would you do the same
for your mother?"
"No," Tom said firmly and went back to his meal.
Okay, so this is a bad example to start with, Harry thought, disappointed.
There had to be some way to teach Tom about love. There had to be at least one
example that Tom could relate to...and then the idea hit Harry. I can't believe
I'm going to be saying this!
"Then what about your older self?" Harry suggested. "You said that you're
looking to find your older self. Well, let's say that you do. You find him, but
he is sick. What are you going to do?"
"Help him, of course," Tom said. "I will need him for our mission."
"But isn't there another reason you want to help him?" Harry pressed. "He's a
part of you. Don't you love your older self?"
Tom seriously considered Harry's words. "So, this will all tie back to the
matter of love," he finally said. "Yes, I do care for myself; up to a certain
point in time, we were one being." He glanced at Harry. "Are you telling me
that the reason why I should help other people is because I am connected to
them?"
"Well, yeah...I guess we are all connected," Harry said. He hadn’t thought of
it that way before. "We are from the same species and everything. But that's
not the only reason. Imagine if it was you who was sick and Voldemort found
you, but instead of taking care of you, he left you to suffer."
Tom laughed. "That's impossible!"
"Just please imagine if it did happen, for at least a second," Harry said. "How
would you feel if Voldemort hurt you?"
Tom pondered the idea in his head. Harry was pleased to see that Tom was taking
this discussion seriously.
"I would be very upset," Tom said after a while. "I am a part of him. It would
shock me to be treated in such a matter, especially by him."
"Good," Harry said. "You know how it feels if someone hurts you. Always imagine
yourself in other people's places and ask yourself how you would feel if you
were wronged." Harry bit his lower lip, unsure if he was being clear. "Do you
know what I mean?"
"I think I do," Tom said. He took a spoonful of rice before continuing. "I must
treat my older self in a similar fashion as I would like him to treat me."
"Yes!" Harry said happily. "The same applies to everyone out there. Treat every
human out there the same way you want to be treated."
Tom's jaw slightly dropped. "You want me to treat everyone like a god?"
"No, if you don't want to," Harry said hurriedly, "but it would be nice if you
just treated people with respect and kindness. It doesn't have to be worship.
Just be nice."
"And what do you consider an act of kindness?" Tom asked.
"Anything," Harry said. "A smile. Just smile at people. It will make you feel
better too. And help others. If someone drops something, give the object back
to them."
"I've returned belongings before," Tom declared.
"Without expecting a reward?" Harry challenged. A corner of Tom's mouth
twitched. Harry sighed. "Next time, give something back without expecting to
get anything in return."
"That's absurd!" Tom said. "If I take the time to give something to another
human, I expect to be rewarded! I do not tolerate leaving empty-handed! I
expect to have my actions appreciated."
"You will get a reward!" Harry argued. "It's not always an object." Tom stared
at Harry, puzzled. "You feel something when you give to someone, and sometimes
that feels better than getting a physical reward. You can sometimes sense the
appreciation another person has when you help them." Harry wanted to kick
himself. He wished he could explain this better to Tom.
But Tom didn't argue. He considered Harry's words seriously for a few moments.
Please let him understand, Harry hoped.
Tom eyed a small piece of chicken on his plate. He looked back at Harry, who
understood what Tom was thinking.
"Would you like to give me something?" Harry asked. Tom nodded. He speared the
piece of meat and dropped it into Harry's plate. "Thank you," Harry said,
eating Tom's little gift. Tom studied him for a while.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked.
"I have less food on my plate," Tom pointed out.
Harry couldn’t help but smile. "And I am very happy you gave it to me. That was
nice of you. Sometime in the future, I might give something to you in return."
It was Tom's turn to smile. "What could you give to me?" He put in more food on
Harry's plate. Harry responded by putting a little bit from his own meal into
Tom's plate.
They exchanged every now and then throughout the rest of dinner. Tom
contemplated Harry whenever he ate something from Tom.
"I feel oddly satisfied watching you eat something I personally gave you," he
said.
"Did you want me to have every bite?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Tom said. "I kept telling myself that I wanted every morsel in your
stomach."
Harry smiled. "That's what I meant earlier about rewards. Your reward right now
is that you feel satisfied. You gave away your food, but something inside you
is happy about that. You gain something by giving something away."
"And that is love?" Tom looked a little surprised.
"Yes, it's a form of love," Harry said. "Generosity. People usually feel this
kind of love after they've helped others. It's not a bad feeling, is it?"
"No, it isn't," Tom admitted, turning back to his own plate. "It's not a very
extreme emotion either. It's light, barely noticeable if you're not paying
attention. I can handle this emotion. But there is a bad side to generosity. If
you give away too much and the person does not appreciate your efforts, you are
hurt."
"There is a good and bad side to everything," Harry explained, "but if you
really want to understand love you have to focus on the good side first."
"So it's just like the study of a magical creature's physiology," Tom
concluded. "You first study how a creature's body works before you study what
can go wrong inside it. Know the theory – understand the basics before you can
branch out." He nodded. "I can do that."
"That's a good way to put it," Harry said, smiling. "So generosity, in theory,
is a good feeling."
"Yes," Tom agreed. "It's a vaguely pleasant feeling." He returned the smile.
"What else can you tell me about love?"
"What else do you want to know?"
"How many kinds of love are there?"
Harry bit his lip, struggling for an answer. "There's a lot," he finally said.
"Friendships, marriage, hobbies...um...there's too many kinds."
"What kind of love is generosity? Friendship?"
"No," Harry said. "You can show generosity to complete strangers."
"Then it is love between man and his world," Tom concluded, feeling a little
proud of himself. "Interesting."
"Do you care about the world, Tom?" Harry asked.
"Of course I do," Tom said quickly. "I just do not care for many of its
annoying human inhabitants. I have had more meaningful conversations with
vipers than fellow humans."
Harry chuckled. "You do like something then! You care about this earth...and
food." Harry motioned to the expensive meal on the table. "You need to work on
your relationship with humans." His eyes widened as an idea dawned on him. "I'm
going to give you homework," Harry blurted out before he could think more on
the matter. Tom stared at him, a look of both surprise and interest in his
eyes. "Your first homework is to make a list of everything that you deeply care
about."
"How will that help me?" Tom asked.
"We can go over the list, see what you're missing, and work on those areas,"
Harry explained.
"It's a dumb idea," Tom said after thinking about it.
                                      ***
But later that day, Tom did work on his list. He thought long and hard about
what gave him a pleasant feeling inside. After half an hour passed, he had
written down only two words: 'magic' and 'earth.'
Tom frowned at his short list. This is harder than I thought. The more Tom
contemplated, the more he realized that there was nothing that gave him as much
pleasure as doing magic. He felt empty, apathetic, to everything and everyone
in the world. The only other emotion he felt at times was anger. Surely there's
got to be other activities that I enjoy! Tom thought desperately, suddenly
feeling self-conscious of his list. Surely I cannot be this empty inside! What
else do I enjoy doing? I like to eat; that gives me pleasure.
Tom was about to jot the word down, but he stopped. I really love rice, Tom
thought, smiling at the mental image of a large bowl of steaming white and wild
rice, and roast chicken, every kind of potato, earl grey tea, peach pie, toast
and marmalade, buttered corn, steak and kidney pie...
Tom presented Harry his list the next day. Harry beamed when he first saw it,
but as he read down the list, the smile changed into a frown.
"Besides 'magic' and "earth," you just listed names of food," Harry said.
"You said to write down everything that I liked," Tom argued.
Harry sighed. "There's not a single name of a person, not even your name. Isn't
there a teacher you appreciated? What about those students you were with in
some of the dreams? Aren't they your friends? Don't you care about any of
them?"
"It never crossed my mind to add my name to the list," Tom confessed. "I
thought hard about the people I knew at Hogwarts, and I honestly feel nothing
for them." Harry bit his lower lip and frowned again.
"I think a part of you hates yourself," Harry said seriously.
Tom's eyes widened. "How can I hate myself?" he asked, sounding a little angry
and confused.
"If you cared about yourself, your older self wouldn't be in the place he is
right now," Harry explained. "You need to do something nice for yourself. What
do you do when you're not in the house?"
"Library," Tom answered simply.
"Next time, don't go near the Muggle library," Harry said. "Look inside other
buildings. Treat yourself out to a café and just relax. Spend time walking
around this forest; you love nature, don't you?" Tom nodded. "Then take the
time to enjoy the scenery. Ever since we came here you've been either locked up
in this library or the Muggle library. I don't want you to do that. For an
immortal, you're not living life."
He has a point, Tom admitted to himself.
                                      ***
Taking Harry's advice to heart, Tom didn't enter the Muggle library the next
time he went to the local town. He walked into stores and browsed around,
looking at the modern products on sale. He tried his best to find an interest
in color televisions, stereos, and video game consoles, but to no success.
There was simply no beauty in the electrical gadgets.
Tom decided on next treating himself to a double fudge chocolate cake. With one
faint flick of his wand, Tom produced Muggle money from his pocket and paid the
waiter with a smile. The money would be visible for another twelve hours, and
by the time anyone noticed that they lost money, there was no way it could be
traced back to Tom. He always got away with it.
The cake proved to be more enjoyable than the silly Muggle inventions. Tom
savored every spoonful, thinking enviously about how lucky people were today.
They were never scarce on sugar and chocolate. Binge away, ungrateful brats!
You will never know what it is like to go to Hogsmeade and find Honeydukes
Sweetshop closed due to the war.
After his dessert, Tom headed back to the forest, but this time he strolled
around to areas he hadn’t visited before. His spirits sunk after he saw the
dozens of litter Muggles had left behind.
Keep this up, and you will lose the only planet that can maintain life, Tom
thought irritably as he kicked a Styrofoam container.
The anger didn't leave Tom until a while later when he sat next to a river. He
tried to lie back and enjoy his surrounding, but his mind kept flashing back to
a hundred other thoughts about the modern world. He looked down at the river
and focused on a small fish in the moving water. Whenever his mind began to
wander, Tom would push himself to concentrate back on the river life.
Time passed, and Tom relaxed. He had spent ten minute just staring down at the
river. When he realized this, Tom smiled. He felt a little better.
Harry is right, Tom thought. I must do this more often. He suddenly realized
that he had been out longer than he had wanted. Harry would be very hungry by
now, and Tom felt he owed Harry a big meal. He helps me, and I reward him.
                                      ***
"What were you doing all day?" Harry asked when Tom arrived.
"Taking your advice," Tom replied as he set the bags with their meal on the
dinner table. "I experienced a little bit of life."
Harry smiled. Tom didn't say any more on the matter, but he looked a tiny bit
happier than he had been when he left. Harry had a feeling Tom hadn’t hurt
anyone; his expression would have held a sinister sneer rather than a tranquil
smile.
"Did you think about your friends?" Harry asked sometime later.
"No," Tom said, suddenly frowning a little. "They never crossed my mind."
"You should think about them next," Harry advised. "You must miss them at
least. Didn't you have any good times with them?"
"I never thought about it," Tom said.
"Then you should," Harry said. "Also, I want you to think of your mother every
night." Tom's mouth twitched. "Think of what she did for you. I want you to be
able to say 'I love you, Mum,' okay?"
"I'll try," Tom said.
                                      ***
To Harry's delight, Tom took the matter of learning love seriously. During
every meal he would listen to Harry, throwing out a question every now and
then. He was determined to understand everything about love, and Harry was
determined to teach him all he knew.
Every day, the quantity and quality of food Tom brought home increased. Harry
ate as much as he could because Tom got very upset if Harry threw any food
away.
"If you lived during my time," Tom would rant, a mad light in his eyes, "you
would understand. There is nothing more precious in this earth than filling
your belly!"
"I'm overstuffed!" Harry would complain, feeling as though he was about to pass
out, but he forced another spoonful into his mouth.
After meals, Tom would work ferociously in the library. He took notes on
scrolls of parchment of everything Harry had told him. When he ran out of
parchment, Tom grabbed the fiction novels and began writing in them. This
greatly upset Grindelwald.
"Get out! Don't disturb me!" Tom screamed at the painting, threatening the dark
couple with his wand.
"That book is a rare deluxe edition!" Grindelwald argued angrily.
"I said, SHUT UP!" Tom screamed. A curse slashed the painting, and the couple
ran for cover. The next day, they returned, but instead of standing comfortably
in the middle of the painting, they watched the manic boy from a corner.
"Why does a person love even if the object of their affection does not love
them in return?" Tom mumbled as he scribbled on another ill-fated novel. "Why
can't love always be felt in both parties? Why do some people love someone who
isn't a good person and that person knows it?"
He turned around and spotted Grindelwald and Aderyn. "You!" Tom pointed at
Grindelwald. "Why did you marry your wife? She's not the prettiest witch on the
planet." Aderyn threw him a filthy look.
Grindelwald shrugged. "The first time we met, she was in the most foul of
moods."
"And you married her after that?" Tom asked, surprised.
"I can handle her temper," Grindelwald said. He smiled and patted Aderyn's head
as though she were a small child. Tom frowned, confused.
"You can handle her bad side," Tom said more to himself than Grindelwald. "Is
that a part of love? Is that why parents love their children although the
children disobey and anger them?"
The thought still troubled Tom by nighttime. He found himself unable to sleep
that night as he tried to sort out the question. He turned towards the sleeping
Harry.
"Harry," Tom softly called. He gently shook Harry, but he didn't wake up.
Getting angry, Tom slapped him across the face and pulled at Harry's hair.
Harry jerked awake, screaming at the pain.
"What are you doing?" he shrieked, eyeing Tom with half-open eyes.
"I have a question," Tom said.
Harry groaned. "You woke me up just for that? Can't it wait till tomorrow?"
Tom ignored Harry and went on with his question, but before he was done, Harry
had fallen asleep again. "Wake up!" Tom yelled angrily, and he aggressively
shook Harry until he pushed him away. Now fully awake, Harry listened to Tom
and tried to give an answer as best as he could.
"It's called forgiveness," Harry said, annoyed.
"I've done that before!" Tom quickly said as though something had just dawned
on him.
"It's a little different than when we forgive a stranger or enemy," Harry said.
"We need to do this every now and then with the person we love, and afterwards
we still love the person. You should try it, Tom. Learn to forgive your mother.
Think of what she went through to bring you to this world." Harry turned around
on the bed and fell asleep.
                                      ***
For the next several nights, Tom tried to forgive his mother. Her face never
left his mind at night. At first, Tom fought against the images that continued
to pierce him painfully. I hate you, woman. You are weak. You deserted me.
But as the nights went by, Tom's thoughts slowly changed. His mother's face was
breaking through his inner barrier, invading his empty heart with her presence.
Several times Tom found himself imagining what his mother looked like when she
was healthier; a few times he caught himself daydreaming of holding her hand
while strolling together in a park. I don't hate you, woman, but I won't
forgive you. I don't love you either, and I never will. I don't love anyone!
Next to him, Harry snored softly.
Tom sighed. But the more I resist love, the more it drives me mad.
He dreamed of what life would have been like had his mother stayed alive.
Before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Tom would have proudly showed his mother his
prefect badge; delight would show on her face as she hugged him.
I was the first in my class, Tom thought sadly. I wish you were there, mother.
That day would have been more special to me than just sitting in the orphanage,
holding my badge in my room with not a single soul to show it to.
The following night, he imagined being a fetus inside his mother's warm womb.
He imagined his mother lightly touching her belly as she staggered through
snowy London. Tom felt a sudden tightening in his chest.
I suffered alongside her, Tom suddenly realized. I must have been her only
company during her final weeks. He shook his head and tried to get to sleep.
Later that night, Tom woke up feeling a bitter chill run down his body. His
body was shaking. Although the house was warm, he was cold. The chills were
coming from inside his body.
No! I don't want to feel this anymore! Tom thought. He hated this feeling that
possessed his body on occasions throughout his life.
He turned his head towards Harry. Tom inched closer until he could feel Harry's
body heat. It was soothing, and the closer he got, the less cold his body felt.
He was close enough to watch a thin line of drool trickle down Harry's chin.
The warmth felt nice indeed. Was this a part of love? Did people cuddle close
to each other and hug in order to give each other warmth, to stop this bitter
coldness from inhabiting their bodies? How would it have felt like to be held
in his mother's arms?
Very warm, almost like being back in the womb, Tom imagined.
His eyes swept over Harry's wrists. You're gaining weight, he realized,
smiling. I was getting disgusted seeing your bones popping out. I should feed
you until you get fat and soft like a sheep. He chuckled at the mental image.
Sleep swept over Tom again. When he woke up the next morning, he was still very
close to Harry. He quickly moved away and left the room before Harry woke up.
                                      ***
Tom's life was not completely void of happiness, Harry noted. A couple times he
dreamt of Tom having mischievous fun with his school friends. It seemed like
his happiest moments were at Hogwarts, something Harry could sympathize with.
In one dream, Harry was outside the orphanage on a bright spring day. A few
young boys, including Tom, were arguing with each other. Tom had tried to break
away from the group and sit far away, but the little children continued to
annoy him. One mean-looking blonde boy decided to pull down his pants and
urinate all over Tom.
Tom shrieked angrily, and turning around, he pulled down his pants. The amount
of urine he sprayed the boys with shocked Harry. He's got to be magically
supplying it! The soaked children's screams filled the air, punctured by
Harry's laughter that none of the boys could hear.
Just then the front doors flew open and a very angry Mrs. Armstrong marched
out. "THOMAS! GET BACK HERE, BOY!" she roared. Tom cursed and ran as fast he
could.
Harry doubled over. He was still laughing when he woke up.
"I remember that day," Tom said as he straightened up in bed. "Mrs. Armstrong
had to climb a tree in order to drag me back into the building. I received a
spanking for my naughtiness, no matter how many times I told them I did not
start it."
"Tom and Jerry!" Harry giggled.
Tom stared at him, confused. "None of the boys' names were Jerry," he said.
Harry was too busy laughing to explain to Tom about what Mrs. Armstrong
reminded him of. Tom continued to stare at Harry, watching the tears run down
his face. A genuine smile broke on Tom's face.
"If you think this was funny, you should have seen the time I put a small snake
in Father Jonathan's Bible," Tom said.
"Tell me about it," Harry said, wiping the tears of mirth on his face. "I think
this will beat the time I turned my teacher's hair blue."
"I will," Tom said. "After that, I want to hear about that teacher of yours."
                                      ***
A few days later, Tom sat across one of the couches in the library, twiddling a
quill between his long fingers.
They used to always call me Lord Voldemort, Tom thought. He smiled, remembering
his old school friends. He was popular with many students at Hogwarts, but only
seven knew of the name he created.
"Good morning, Lord Voldemort!" they used to tell him whenever they were alone.
"How was your day, Lord Voldemort? Cheerio, Lord Voldemort!"
Tom closed his eyes. He felt like he was sent back in time to those lovely days
at Hogwarts. He was surrounded by students who admired him, and he felt like a
god amongst them. He was looked up to by every other student. The teachers,
save for Dumbledore, loved him. He owned Hogwarts; he was their leader.
He did mischief in the school but never was there evidence of his wrongdoings.
His friends followed in his footsteps and caused chaos. In the group were weak
individuals who sought protection or talented students wishing to learn more
from Tom. With Tom around, his group was feared and respected. They ruled the
school. Together, with him being the leader, they were unstoppable.
Tom's smile widened as more delightful memories filled him. He remembered
himself constantly teasing Claudius Mulciber about his horrible grades,
Garfield Lestrange and Douglas Avery getting into their daily arguments,
Antonin Dolohov sneaking in firewhiskey from The Hog’s Head, and Marilyn Rosier
finding a way to magically play her favorite music on the record player while
she studied; Tom could almost hear "Rhapsody in Blue" playing in the air at
that very moment. Eileen Prince and Orion Black were younger than him, but both
showed promising talent in magic. Tom remembered his friends and him when they
used to loudly sing offensive songs while running outside on the school grounds
near the lake. The laughter exploded.
"Here's something you don't see every day from this lad," Grindelwald commented
to his wife.
"Watch it, boy, or you'll pass out!" Aderyn warned. Tom didn't pay attention to
the painting; he was lost in his blissful memories, laughing from deep within
his heart.
                                      ***
"I heard you laughing in the library," Harry said later that night while Tom
got into bed. "What were you doing in there?"
"I was thinking of the days I had with my school friends," Tom explained. He
was still smiling slightly.
Harry smiled. "Do you miss them?"
"I was briefly seized by a feeling of nostalgia," Tom admitted. "They were
always behind me, my little comrades. We terrorized the entire school with our
mischief. I felt like we owned the school; we were a force to be reckoned with,
every one of us."
"That must have been nice," Harry said, "without the terrorizing part."
Tom chuckled. "There was Douglas Avery. You've seen him; he's the one with the
light brown hair. He was an idiot. Every time he saw a lady, it was a
nightmare. I was always embarrassed being in the same room as him whenever he
attempted to impress one. No lady ever dated him; they all hated him." He
sighed. "There was Marilyn Rosier, from Gryffindor."
"Gryffindor?" Harry gasped. Tom turned to him.
"Not all Gryffindors are innocent lambs, little Potter," Tom explained in a
mockingly sugary tone, tapping Harry's nose gently with a long finger. "Rosier
was very passionate about ridding the school of Mudbloods. She openly supported
Grindelwald in school."
"And Professor Dippet allowed her to stay?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Professor Dippet was a soft man," Tom said, his smile widening. "He would
allow a manticore to stay at Hogwarts if it expressed interest in acquiring an
education."
"I cannot believe you befriended a Gryffindor," Harry said.
"I had contacts from every house and from different years," Tom declared
proudly. "There was Eileen Prince from Ravenclaw and Claudius Mulciber from
Hufflepuff. Through them I could keep tabs on what was happening in other
Houses. Their loyalties to me outweighed their loyalties to their own House. I
could spy on anyone I wanted."
That's clever of him, Harry admitted to himself, impressed.
"I must admit, I miss having them around," Tom continued. "They would do
whatever I commanded of them. I could insult them all I wanted and still find
them huddled next to me like loyal dogs."
Harry frowned. "That's not friendship, Tom."
"What do you mean?"
"They may have liked you, but I don't think you ever felt love for them," Harry
said. "You didn't respect them. You need that in a friendship."
"But the feelings I have now - "
"Your feelings are coming from nostalgia," Harry explained. "You just want
people to gather around you, serve you, and be in awe of your every move." He
sighed. "Maybe you can use that feeling to start learning to love your
friends." Silence followed for several minutes. "Do you want to reconnect with
them?" Harry asked after a while.
Tom shrugged, clearly put down. "It would be strange to one day meet an old
friend who never grew a white hair."
                                      ***
A couple of days later Tom decided to visit the magical community located many
miles from the manor. He bought a lot of extra food for Harry and placed it in
the dining room. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Tom magically
altered small features of his face and hair with his wand. He fattened his
cheeks. His pointy nose became more round, his eyes slimmed, his full lips
thinned, and his hair changed to light brown. While humming the tune
"Sentimental Journey," Tom left the house and took the first bus ride that led
to the village.
This was Tom's first time in the village; he didn't want to visit here too
often in case Professor Dumbledore sent the villages pictures of him. His
disguise was fragile. If one took a good long look at him, they could see
through it.
It took him a while to find the library, and when he located the small
building, he wasted no time. He headed straight to the references.
Every magical library contained records of every witch and wizard that lived in
the country. The only trick was to find the right names among dozens of
shelves. Tom pulled out books starting with R and settled down nearby. He
pulled out a small stack of parchment paper, a quill, and a bottle of ink from
his pockets. He eagerly dipped his quill in the ink bottle and positioned it
above the parchment.
He found Rosier's name, but Tom's smile disappeared when he saw the date next
to her birth date: May 6, 1945.
She died just a few days after Grindelwald's defeat, Tom realized. What
happened? Marilyn's brother Linus was also listed as dead, but on a later date.
Linus Rosier's son, Evan Rosier, died sometime in 1980.
Tom put the book back and pulled out a different volume. He looked up Eileen
Prince. She had died on October 23, 1980. She had been married in 1957 to a
Muggle named Tobias Snape.
Tom's jaw dropped slightly. I never expected that from you! Tom thought,
shaking his head. His mind suddenly registered a name Ginny had written in his
diary several months ago: Professor Snape. I wonder how much he takes after
her, my little mastermind...
Tom found no luck with his other classmates. He searched through old newspaper
articles for any explanation on Rosier, Prince, and Black's deaths, but he
couldn't find any. However, he found a photo Harry was sure to like. Tom made a
copy of the page and stuffed it in his pocket before going back to his search.
His friends either had died or were in prison, as was the case with Antonin
Dolohov and Claudius Mulciber. Douglas Avery was still alive and not in prison.
He was married and had a son. So you finally found a lady who would marry you?
Tom thought bitterly. He put the book away, and feeling strangely depressed, he
headed back home.
                                      ***
"What happened? Where were you?" Harry asked when Tom entered the bedroom. Tom
grunted, grabbed his night clothes, and left to change in the bathroom. It was
evening, and Tom's fragile disguise had already disintegrated. When he
returned, he looked tired and gloomy.
He stared at Harry for a bit, looking as though he was wondering if he should
tell him. Harry encouraged him.
"I went looking for information about my...friends," Tom began. He settled on
his side of the bed. "They all are either dead or in Azkaban - that's the
wizarding prison. Only Avery is still alive, apparently living a cozy life with
a wife and a son."
"You don't want to contact him?" Harry asked.
"No!" Tom said bitterly. Harry raised his eyebrows. Tom's lower lip trembled
angrily. "He was nothing more than an embarrassing, dim-witted idiot! He would
have never graduated from school had I not helped him with his assignments! How
did he end up with a life of luxury when my older self is somewhere out there
in the cold!"
He suddenly jumped out of bed. "I found something you'd like," he added.
He rummaged through his day robes and gave Harry the object he pulled out. It
was an old photo from a newspaper. A thin, spectacled young man stood beside a
counter smiling proudly, his arms crossed and his shoulders straight. He seemed
familiar.
"His name was Gerald Potter," Tom said, and Harry looked up at him.
"My grandfather?" Harry said.
Tom nodded. "Apparently, he was a successful business man in Gringotts."
Harry smiled. "Thank you!" He looked back at the photo. "Did you know him?"
"He was a first year when I entered my sixth year," Tom said.
"How was he like?"
"Like any other first year: very short, nervous, and a tad stupid." Harry
turned back to him. "He wasn't special, Harry. He didn't have a magical scar
like you."
"Sorry I asked," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "You're still hurt about what
happened to your classmates?"
"That would be an appropriate way of putting it," Tom snapped. Harry frowned
and set the photo aside.
"Can I ask you something?" Harry said. "Why were you so obsessed with becoming
an immortal at such a young age? Why put a part of yourself in a diary and miss
out on being with your friends? Why couldn't you wait until you were ninety
before you made yourself immortal?"
Tom watched Harry for a very long time, thinking hard and frowning. "It's not
like I can keep anything from you for very long," he eventually said. "You've
seen parts of my past no one else ever will. You've seen my birth..." He
straightened up on the bed and began to unbutton his night gown. "You're not
the only one with a scar that changed your life, Harry. Some day, you may even
witness this event." Tom turned his back on Harry and slipped the night gown
off his shoulders.
Harry gasped, now understanding why Tom never changed in the same room as him.
Running diagonally down his back, from his right shoulder to the left side of
his hip, was a deep scar. Harry reached out and touched the scar.
"I was seven when I got injured," Tom explained. "It was during the annual
summer trip to the country. I was chasing a fellow orphan around an abandoned
barn. Inside was full of heavy equipment. One was on a shelf, and when I bumped
hard into the wall, the shelf shook, and it fell. The sharp machine fell on me
right on my back. The kid I was chasing ran to get help.
"The doctor told me that had the machine cut one centimeter deeper into my
spine, I would have been paralyzed starting from the middle back, if I was
lucky. There was a chance I could have died.
"I was shocked when I learned this. I had killed small animals before, but I
never thought I too would die. Do you now see why I cannot wait until I get
older? A life can be snatched away as quick as lightening. I cannot take that
risk; I wanted to live forever."
"And was it all worth it in the end?" Harry asked. "Just today you realized
that your time with your friends was cut short because of your quest."
"I do not regret my decision!" Tom quickly said.
"You're not living, Tom," Harry said. "Your heart is beating, but you are not
living." Tom bit his lower lip; Harry smiled sadly. His hand glided over Tom's
right shoulder and squeezed tightly. "Relax, Tom. You're too stressed."
"I can never relax," Tom said, laughing lightly.
"Lie down," Harry ordered gently. Tom hesitated, but he obeyed when Harry
instructed him again. He lay on his stomach on the bed, right side of his head
against the soft pillow. "I'm not an expert at this," Harry confessed as he
positioned himself above Tom, "but I'll try my best."
Recalling snippets from television programs that were on the matter, Harry
massaged Tom's back the best he could. He stared at Tom's face, watching him
closely.
"Do you like it?" Harry asked after a while.
"No," Tom said, annoyed. "I don't like you touching me."
"I'm not going to hurt you," Harry said, sighing. "Have I done anything to harm
you yet? No. I'm trying to help you." He continued making slow, circular
caresses around Tom's back. "I want to help you," Harry repeated again softly
after a while. "Please relax."
"I'll try," Tom said.
"So, you were seven when you learned that you can die," Harry said. "I was
five. I used to ask Aunt Petunia how I got my scar. At first she wouldn't tell
me; 'Don't ask questions!' she used to yell. Finally, she told me that my
parents died in a car accident, and it was too bad I didn't also die."
"How did you feel?" Tom asked.
"I figured that if death was not the Dursley's house, then it was not bad,"
Harry replied. Tom laughed. "When I learned what it really was, I just accepted
it."
"Why?"
"I don't know really. It's natural, I guess. It happens to everyone."
"Except you and me," Tom added.
"Thanks a lot, Tom," Harry chastised teasingly. Tom grinned.
Slowly, Tom's body became less tense underneath Harry's hands. His eyes
drooped, and a few minutes later, he was asleep. Harry ceased his activity and
covered Tom with the blanket. He smiled at Tom and lied down right next to him.
Later that night when Tom awoke, he found Harry sleeping close to him.
Little brat, he thought, smiling. I lost all of my friends, if you could call
them that. Looks like I'm stuck with you forever. He sighed as images of his
classmates came back. Will I ever experience those days again? he thought, his
eyes never leaving Harry. Can I claim back the life I left behind? Could you be
the ticket to that life?
                                      ***
"I want you to call me Lord Voldemort," Tom announced the next day during
breakfast.
"I'm never calling you that," Harry said firmly.
"Why not?"
"Your mother named you Tom. I respect your mother and her wishes, so I'm
calling you Tom whether you like it or not."
Tom wanted to kick Harry, but he had a point. There goes my wish of ever
hearing 'Cheerio, Lord Voldemort' again, he thought sulkily.
***** Chapter Eight - Trust Me *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                 Chapter Eight
                                   Trust Me
                                        
              "You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you
               will live in torment if you do not trust enough."
                                 - Frank Crane
                                     *****
Ron felt strange being back in the Gryffindor dormitory. Three other boys were
in the room, and all pair of eyes occasionally fell to the fifth empty bed.
Harry's trunk was now safe at The Burrow. When his mother saw it, her already
tear-stricken face was drenched with more tears as she wept for Harry.
"He's not dead, mum!" Ron had assured her, his voice cracking.
"I cannot imagine the school year without Harry," Dean said, breaking through
Ron's thoughts. Ron nodded sullenly.
"I cannot believe it's already September," Seamus said.
"Have you heard any news about him?" Neville asked Ron.
Ron sighed. "No," he said sadly, trying his best to avoid looking at where
Harry used to sleep. "Professor Dumbledore tried to talk to...the attacker, but
he couldn't talk for a long time. However, the attacker said that Harry was
going to be okay."
"Did Professor Dumbledore see him?" Dean asked.
Ron shook his head. "And we haven't heard any more from the attacker since
then. Professor Dumbledore is worried. He thinks the attacker is going to help
You-Know-Who come back."
"How would he do that?" Seamus asked, looking shocked.
"I don't know," Ron replied, "but Professor Dumbledore has been running around
all over the country asking libraries to pull out all of their newspaper
articles on You-Know-Who and his supporters. He doesn't want anything to link
the attacker to You-Know-Who." He sat on his bed, petting his rat Scabbers.
"That's why we have so much protection around the school this year, right?"
Dean asked. Ron nodded.
"Professor Dumbledore doesn't want to risk any more students getting hurt,"
Neville said sadly.
"I heard the guards are going to do a complete search around the entire
school," Ron said. "They're going to search every little corner in the school
and in our stuff, even our clothes, school stuff, pets..."
"And one of our protectors is also our next Defense Against the Dark Arts
professor," Seamus added. "Professor Lupin."
"Ouch!" Ron yelled. Scabbers had flown out of his hands and landed in the
middle of the room, shaking. "What's gotten into you?" Ron asked as he bent
down to pick up his rat.
"Must have had a nightmare," Dean suggested. Ron gave Scabbers another odd look
before setting him on his pillow. The four boys didn't speak again as they
finished unpacking and getting ready for bed.
                                      ***
Peter Pettigrew stayed in his spot on the pillow until all the boys were
asleep. His body was still shaking, his mind still replaying the boys'
conversation. If the guards were truly going to scrutinize every detail in the
school, including everyone's pets, he was going to be discovered.
They're so serious about protecting the school that they'll want to check
everything, Peter thought fearfully. They might perform a spell that'll reveal
my true form! And then they'll know the truth of what really happened that
night…
Ron was going to comply with the guards and let them check him; Ron had lost
two people he was close to, so he wasn't going to complain about the guards
wasting time with animals that have always been at Hogwarts. Suddenly Peter no
longer felt safe being with the boy; if Ron knew who he really was, then he
wasn't going to defend him once the truth was exposed.
Peter's trembling intensified. I don't want to go to Azkaban! I can't stay here
any longer!
He jumped down to the ground, slipped out underneath the door, scampered down
to the common room, traveled down a small tunnel inside the walls, ran through
a secret passage where a couple stood kissing in the dark, hurried into the
Entrance Hall, and slid out the oak front doors.
Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He was safer outside Hogwarts where everyone
was going to see him as just a rat. But where was he going to go?
Master, Peter thought. He's still out there, hiding. I can help him, and he can
protect me.
                                      ***
It's just like what I've suspected all summer, Fred thought as he studied a map
laid out on his lap. In a secret corridor two dots stood side by side. One of
dots had the name "Percy Weasley" next to it while the other dot had the words
"Penelope Clearwater." She's been comforting him all summer. If Ginny was still
alive, she'd never stop teasing him about having a girlfriend. He smiled sadly.
A third dot with the name "Peter Pettigrew" suddenly appeared in the corridor,
and it was moving swiftly towards the couple.
Uh oh, Fred thought. They're going to get caught by this student! The dot ran
past the couple right in front of them, but neither showed any sign of being
startled or disturbed. That's weird, Fred thought; he looked for Peter
Pettigrew, but couldn't find him on the map anymore. He folded the map and
placed it under his pillow, wondering if it was just a flaw from old age.
                                      ***
Harry wondered what Tom was planning. During breakfast, he had requested that
Harry meet him in an hour in the library.
"Come in," Tom said when he answered the door. He waved his wand around the
doorway and stepped back.
Harry walked in. He was momentarily taken by the antique beauty of the room. An
old couple watched him curiously from a painting on the right side of the room.
"What did you call me for?" Harry asked Tom.
"As a reward for you teaching me about love," Tom said, "you will continue your
education of magic with me as your professor."
Harry's face lit up. "Really?"
"No. This is another one of my dirty tricks," Tom teased. Harry laughed.
Tom motioned for Harry to sit next to a table cluttered with spellbooks.
"Here are the rules," Tom said. "You will be allowed to use your wand only on
my command. You will neither have your wand back nor get a new one." Tom gave
his wand a slight nervous glance as though unsure if he should hand it over to
Harry.
He still doesn't trust me, Harry thought. I have to teach him to.
"Let's see what you know so far," Tom continued. "Can you perform the
Levitation Charm?"
"Yes," Harry said, straightening up on his chair. "It was the first spell I
learned."
"Show me," Tom commanded. "Levitate this book." It took some effort for Tom to
slip the wand into Harry's hand. He was standing very close, ready to attack
Harry if he did anything he wasn't supposed to.
This was Harry's chance to start his own lesson. "Wingardium Leviosa," Harry
said, waving his wand, and the book levitated five feet above the table. Harry
set the book down, and quickly, before Tom could ask for the wand back, Harry
thrust it back into Tom's hands.
"Thank you," Tom said, looking a little taken aback. He asked Harry to show him
a Switching Spell. Again, Harry performed the spell and handed the wand back
before Tom could ask for it.
They reviewed first and second year spells and potions for the next two days,
paying attention to areas Harry had difficulty in. Harry made sure that every
time he performed a spell for Tom, the wand was returned before Tom spoke. By
the third day, Tom stopped Harry.
"Don't give me back the wand until I tell you to," he said, smiling faintly.
They began their first true lesson on third year spells. To Harry's amazement,
Tom was a very good teacher. He was very tough and fussy about a spell being
performed perfectly. Many times he would grab Harry's wrist and show him step
by step how to perform a charm, and he would refuse to continue with the lesson
until Harry performed the spell perfectly. He made sure Harry mastered
everything he taught him.
However, what really shocked Harry was that not once did Tom consult a book. He
could recite everything about a spell or potion with complete ease and
confidence. Even more, he could rephrase any information in a way that could be
understood by even the most dimwitted students at Hogwarts, and he constantly
changed his teaching style to see which Harry responded to the best. When Harry
responded well to being given a lot of examples and images, Tom made sure to
include those in the lessons.
He's a true genius! Harry thought. It's no wonder his older self was such a
powerful opponent. Harry was both impressed and jealous, but after reminding
himself that his intelligence was perhaps the only thing Tom had going for him
in life, he felt bad for ever feeling that way.
You really could have been a wonderful teacher, Harry thought sadly. Is this a
reason you are teaching me? You want to make up for a life you took away from
yourself?
Tom took teaching very seriously; he had even assigned Harry to do essays and
homework, which Harry was not very excited about.
"Harry," Tom demanded angrily one day after reading Harry's first finished
essay. Harry looked up. "What do you call this?"
"An essay," Harry replied, confused.
Tom snorted. "Where is your mind, Harry? This is the most atrocious trash I
ever read in my life!"
"What? Why?" Harry asked. "I answered the question, didn't I?"
Tom rolled his eyes. "That's not the point! It's not professional, and you have
no style!"
"But it's just a homework assignment!" Harry argued. "And we're not in a
school!"
"You need to have good presentation!" Tom said angrily. "Don't you care about
the image of yourself you are portraying?"
"Of course I do!" It suddenly occurred to Harry what Tom was talking about.
"Everyone writes this way these days. There's nothing wrong with it. All my
teachers accepted it."
"I don't believe you!" Tom said. He shook the essay in front of him. "This
looks like it was written by a five year old. You are careless with your
language and grammar. Its informality makes me question the quality of the
modern teacher at Hogwarts for actually grading this. Why, when I was your age-
" He suddenly stopped talking, and Harry snickered.
"Yes, grandfather?" Harry said, smiling.
Tom's eyes narrowed. "You are to rewrite this."
"But I worked hard on it!" Harry argued. "It's not like I'm getting a grade on
it!"
"Who's the teacher here?" Tom demanded.
"You," Harry said, giving up. Tom set the essay in front of Harry, who looked
at it with a frown. I worked hard on it... Sighing, Harry rewrote his essay in
as much of a formal style he could muster, all the while thinking that Tom was
taking this teaching too far. Stupid walking encyclopedia...
                                      ***
Lessons with Tom had its benefits. As Tom taught Harry magic, Harry secretly
taught Tom trust. After a few weeks, Tom rewarded Harry by opening up more
rooms for him to enter in the manor. Harry could now lounge in the living room
whenever he wanted, and to his delight, he could freely go in and out of the
bedroom all day and night. However, the first level was still closed off to
him, but it didn't matter in the meantime.
Harry took advantage of his new freedom and kept out of the bedroom as much as
possible. He alternated between studying and working in the living room and the
library. At first Tom was reluctant to have Harry study in the same room as
him, but he grew comfortable with it.
They barely spoke when they were in the library and not doing lessons. Every
now and then one of them would look up to see the other boy submerged in his
studies. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, and Harry would initiate a smile,
which Tom sometimes returned.
At night, they continued their discussions on love. Harry got used to waking up
in the middle of the night to answer Tom's questions. A couple of times they
stayed up until the first rays of light broke through the curtains, talking
about their lives.
"Tom," Harry said one day during dinner, "Can you stop getting all this
expensive food?"
Tom stared at him, surprised. "You don't like this?" he asked.
"It's nice, but I'd like something more simple every now and then," Harry
replied. "Like a peanut butter sandwich."
The following morning, Tom led Harry to the kitchen.
"I want this room cleaned up by the time I come back," he commanded before
leaving. Harry did as he was told, pleased that Tom was listening to his
suggestions.
He was groggy and feeling nauseous by the time Tom returned with several bags
of groceries floating behind him.
"You don't look well," Tom commented as he set the bags on the counter.
"I think I lost my appetite for a whole year," Harry said. "I found a nest full
of dead, smelly...things I cannot recognize anymore in the oven." He rummaged
through the first bag and began unpacking. "Peanut butter, bread, apples,"
Harry mumbled to himself as he worked; Tom helped. The sight of the food was
slowly making the queasy feeling in his stomach disappear. Tom had brought a
lot of common food items as well as a couple of odd ones, which Harry had
expected.
"Smoked salmon and artichoke dip?" Harry read one container and stared at Tom,
one eyebrow raised.
"I tried the sample in the shop," Tom explained, smiling. "You'll love it."
Harry pulled out a glass bottle full of a clear yellow liquid. "Extra virgin
olive oil," he read aloud. "What does that mean?"
"Their eyes have never fallen upon a man," Tom replied while stacking a cabinet
with a couple cereal boxes.
"What?"
Tom laughed. "I am a wizard, Harry, not a dietitian."
                                      ***
One early afternoon, while Harry worked on his homework, he looked up to see
that Tom had been watching him closely.
"Is everything okay?" Harry asked.
"Yes,” Tom said, snapping out from his contemplation. "You can take a break
today, Harry. There is something I want to show you."
Harry set his quill down and followed Tom out of the library. To his surprise,
Tom led him to the first floor; he stopped and turned around when he reached
the front door.
He gave Harry a little smile before he turned the knob. He motioned for Harry
to follow him. The moment his foot stepped outside the manor for the first time
in months, Harry's spirits soared.
He looked up at the sky, taking in the beauty of the forest around them. The
leaves were turning orange, yellow, red, and brown; some had fallen to the
ground.
Harry bit his lip. "Er, Tom? What day is it?"
"The tenth of October," Tom replied.
"I've been here for five months?"
"Yes." He led Harry deeper into the forest, but Harry had trouble enjoying the
view; Ron and Hermione kept popping back into his mind. Hogwarts had already
started the new year; Harry would have been a third year...
I'm still getting lessons, he tried to cheer himself, and Tom is a very good
teacher...but it would be nice to also have my friends around.
Tom stopped walking and spun around. He noticed Harry's frown, and Harry
quickly forced a smile.
"Thank you for bringing me here," Harry said. A gust of wind flew past him,
blowing his hair against his face; Harry smiled, enjoying the little sensation.
"I really appreciate it."
Tom still didn't look convinced. "You miss those friends of yours."
"I do," Harry confessed, settling down on the patch of autumn leaves. He
quickly glanced at Tom before lying on his back. "But I'm getting used to
living here; I'm starting to like it."
Tom sat on a nearby large rock, observing Harry on the ground. Harry looked up
at him, watching the way the wind blew at Tom's dark hair. His eyes traveled
down to Tom's narrowed eyes and his slight pouting lips. He gave Tom a
reassuring smile.
"I enjoy your company," Harry said. "You can be a little nutty sometimes, but I
don't regret the good times we’ve had together so far." He turned back to the
sky. "You know, I never really appreciated nature until I was cooped up inside
for so long." He watched a songbird flutter about on a close by tree. "The
birds here are really pretty."
"Yes, they're very beautiful until they drop a B-52 on you," Tom said. Harry
laughed, and a smile broke on Tom's face, the tension finally broken between
them. "Harry...your birthday passed without you even knowing. I wish to make it
up to you."
"You want to get me something?" Harry asked.
Tom nodded. "Anything aside from leaving this manor."
There was one thing Harry really wanted, but he knew before he said it that Tom
was not going to give it to him. "Can I write to my friends?"
"No," Tom said flatly.
Harry sat up. "Then can I have my old stuff back? I'm getting a little tired of
wearing women's robes."
"Which means I would have to write to Dumbledore," Tom said contemplatively,
looking more handsome than before. "I haven't spoken to him in a while; he
might appreciate a letter to know that your heart is still beating. Anything
else?"
"No."
Tom looked a little surprised. "Are you sure?"
"Bringing me out here was more than enough," Harry said. He gave Tom another
smile. "It means a lot to me. Thank you, Tom."
                                      ***
Professor Dumbledore was surprised to find a pigeon waiting for him at his
office, but he knew who it was from before he read the letter.
Professor Dumbledore,
You will be delighted to learn that your precious Harry Potter is doing well.
Do not expect me to hand him over to you; I find his company quite intriguing,
and the boy has shown interest in staying. Harry has requested to have his old
belongings returned to him, and we would greatly appreciate it if you would
send them by owl.
Yours truly,
T.M. Riddle
Dumbledore set the letter down.
By owl? he thought. Oh, no, Tom, I would much rather send it in person.
                                      ***
Harry heard Tom arguing heatedly in the living room. He peeked from the doorway
to find Tom holding a mirror, and inside the mirror was Professor Dumbledore.
"Tom, what's going on?" Harry asked. Tom jumped and whipped around.
"Your dear headmaster wants to bring your belongings to you personally" he
informed Harry angrily.
"I have every right to see my student!" Professor Dumbledore argued from the
mirror.
"It's okay if he sees me," Harry said calmly as he took a few steps into the
room. "He just wants to make sure I'm okay. There's nothing wrong in that, Tom.
I promise I won't run away or anything."
Tom bit his lower lip, frowning, before he looked back at the mirror. "If you
insist," he said acidly. He waved his wand around the mirror and took a step
back. A few minutes later, there was a popping sound, and Professor Dumbledore
and Harry's trunk appeared in the living room.
To Harry's shock, both wizards raised their wands at the same time, looking at
each other with utmost hatred.
"Stop!" Harry yelled and he ran between the two wizards, stopping them from
throwing curses at each other.
"Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked, studying him. He was floating an inch from
the floor, and his body was faintly transparent.
"It's okay, professor," Harry said. "I have everything under control. Stay
there!" he ordered Tom when he moved forward. Professor Dumbledore looked both
impressed and surprised. Harry turned back to him. "What happened to you?"
"I cannot go past all of the wards set up around this building," Professor
Dumbledore explained. "What you are seeing is just an image, Harry. However, I
can fully function as though my entire physical being was present, and I can
certainly cast a spell if I wish." He quickly glanced at Tom.
"I don't want you or him to cast any spells at each other," Harry said. "I just
want my belongings with me."
"Don't you want to go back to Hogwarts, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked,
surprised.
"I would, but I'm staying here," Harry said, surprising his headmaster even
more. "In the summer, I would have to go back to the Dursleys, and I'd much
rather be here instead. Tom's teaching me magic, and I'm being fed. Tom hasn't
done anything to hurt me." Harry decided not to tell Professor Dumbledore about
the immortality spell. "Everything's okay here. Besides, where would Tom go?"
"I can make arrangements," Professor Dumbledore said with a slight hint of
malice. Tom's eyes narrowed.
"No!" Harry said. "I know what's going to happen. Believe me, professor, things
could have been a lot worse! I'm no longer a hostage. I'm living here of my own
free will!"
"Don't you miss you friends, Harry?"
Harry hesitated; Professor Dumbledore had struck a nerve. "I miss them
terribly," he said, "but I want to stay here. I'm sure that sometime in the
future I can visit them. Right, Tom?" He turned back and gave Tom a hard look.
Just agree to it.
After a while, Tom finally nodded. Harry turned back to Professor Dumbledore,
who still looked unconvinced. Please understand! Harry thought desperately.
He's not a threat to me anymore! I've been gaining his trust, his friendship!
I'm stopping him from causing trouble! He could have helped Voldemort, and he
will try to do that if you hurt him! Let me stay with him! I'm keeping him in
check! I have control over him! Please give me a chance!
Professor Dumbledore searched Harry's eyes. Suddenly, as though he had read
Harry's mind, he nodded.
"I understand," Professor Dumbledore said. "You can stay here, Harry." Harry
breathed a sigh of relief.
"As if you could take him by force!" Tom proclaimed.
"Tom!" Harry chastised. He turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "Thank you,
professor."
"After all, you are looking very well," Professor Dumbledore said. "I don't
believe the meals at Hogwarts have ever improved your health as much."
"He seems to be responding quite well to olive oil." Tom said, then he laughed.
Harry switched between staring at the two wizards, a little confused.
"You haven't noticed, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked kindly. "Your skin is
practically glowing with good health!" He took a step back. "And you certainly
have grown a lot in such a short time."
"Um, that's because Tom's been putting growth potions in my food," Harry
quickly lied, hoping that Professor Dumbledore would not see through it. His
headmaster narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but deciding that the growth was
nothing life-threatening, he just nodded.
"And I really have been teaching him, if you must know," Tom said stiffly.
"Not the Dark Arts, I hope?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"I have been teaching him everything," Tom said. "I daresay he's improving
better than he was when he was in your school."
"Has he?" Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry.
"Definitely," Tom said bitterly. "With a little aid on my part, he can finally
brew a potion correctly. I believe his old professor never even bothered to
correct him. I noticed that Harry has been repeating the same mistake, and I am
sure his old professor was well aware of it but never bothered to help your
precious boy due to a little personal dislike of his father."
Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I was never informed of this," he
said. "I must speak to Professor Snape about this. Thank you for informing me."
Tom sneered gloatingly; Harry cringed. "I'm still bad at Potions," he told
Professor Dumbledore.
"But you at least know what you are doing wrong, and you are fixing it," Tom
quickly added before turning to Professor Dumbledore. "I question the quality
of educators you have employed, sir."
"Your lessons must take quite some time," Professor Dumbledore said, choosing
to ignore Tom's last comment. Tom nodded, and Professor Dumbledore looked
relieved again.
Harry smiled, knowing what Professor Dumbledore was thinking. See? He's too
busy with me to find his older self.
A screech caught Harry's attention. Hedwig was in her cage, hidden behind the
trunk.
"Hedwig!" Harry cried out. He opened the cage door, and the large snowy owl
hopped onto his arm. She gave him affectionate hoots and nimble his cheek and
ear as he pet her softly. Tom watched the owl enviously. "Thank you,
professor!" Harry said.
"My pleasure, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. He continued watching Harry a
couple more seconds before he said, "I have accomplished what I came here for.
Harry, in case I have forgotten to bring anything, you can send Hedwig to me."
"He is not allowed to send any owls!" Tom butted in.
"Then he can request for you to send an owl," Professor Dumbledore concluded.
"I have no other reason to be here. Harry, anything you'd like to say before I
head back?"
"Tell Ron and Hermione I said hi," Harry said. "Tell them I'm okay."
"Anything else?" Harry shook his head. "Well then, good day to both of you." He
smiled at Harry. With a tap from his own wand, the mirror in his hand glowed,
and soon Professor Dumbledore was gone with another popping sound.
                                      ***
The two students stood up from their seats when Professor Dumbledore reappeared
in his office.
"How is he?" Ron and Hermione eagerly asked at the same time. Eyes twinkling,
Professor Dumbledore looked the happiest they had seen him since last year.
                                      ***
"You shouldn't have said that to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. He picked
up the handle on his trunk and hoisted it up.
"I was merely informing him of his incompetence as a headmaster," Tom
explained. He magicked the trunk so that it was easier to carry.
"I didn't think it was called for," Harry said as he dragged the trunk into the
bedroom and settled it on the floor. He turned to Tom. "However, I liked the
part where you trashed Snape."
"Good," Tom said, smirking a little. "I was beginning to wonder whether you
were going to defend your favorite teacher."
Harry made a disgusted face. "Favorite teacher? Yeah, he's the simply the best,
most kind person on earth!" Tom chuckled.
Harry cranked open the lid of his trunk and caught a whiff of a powerful smell
that reminded him of Hogwarts grounds and the Great Hall. For a few moments,
Harry just sat there, staring at his old belongings and feeling as though he
just returned home after being taken away for many years.
It's like I was taken out of this life, Harry thought as he began picking
through his textbooks and clothes. So much has changed in such a short time. He
pulled out a pair of underwear and turned towards Tom.
"Would you mind?" he asked. Tom nodded and turned around.
Harry slipped out his robes and put his underwear on before pulling out the
widest clothes from his trunk. He studied his body, taking in the effects of
his weight gain. Now that Harry thought about it, he did look healthier. For
the first time in his life, his stomach was no longer concave, and he couldn't
see his ribs popping out of his sides. He felt more energetic than before.
When Harry was getting done dressing himself, Tom turned around and stared at
Harry's clothes with contempt.
"Is that the best of your wardrobe?" he questioned.
"Yes," Harry said. "They used to be Dudley's. They're not that bad." Tom raised
an eyebrow. "Okay, fine! They're a little tight on me right now!"
"I cannot believe you're abandoning Aderyn's robes for these," Tom said,
shaking his head.
"Try wearing a woman's clothes for five months, without any underwear and
always being yelled at by the painting for using them, and tell me how it
feels!" Harry said.
"Let me give you something," Tom said. He went to the closest and pulled out
one of Grindelwald's robes. He motioned for Harry to take off his clothes.
"But it's too big for me," Harry said.
"Just put it on," Tom ordered. With his wand, Tom trimmed the bottom of the
robes and around the sleeves until it comfortably fit. "Grindelwald won't
complain."
"Thanks," Harry said, studying his new robes. Turning back to the trunk, he
pulled out his Nimbus 2000 and gave it a hug, grinning. He looked up at Tom,
who was studying his trunk again.
"I know it's not much, but that's all I have," he said.
"What you have is far more than what I used to own," Tom informed him.
"Sorry," Harry said quietly, suddenly feeling guilty. He next pulled out the
photo album Hagrid gave him in his first year. Walking over to the bedside
cabinet, he took the newspaper clipping of his grandfather and slipped it into
a free spot on one of the pages. Harry half-wished Tom wouldn't look; he didn't
even have any photos to carry with him...
Tom turned his attention to Hedwig. "I didn't even have a pet," he continued.
"The funding I was given was only enough to support my school supplies and a
couple of secondhand robes." Harry tried to imagine having only the orphanage
clothes to wear aside from the robes, and felt more terrible than before. "I
told myself it did not matter if I owned an owl. I had no one to send letters
to." Tom laughed lightly, but Harry kept frowning.
"Of course, as the years passed, I found myself writing more and more to
professors and others. I only had the school owls to depend on." Tom bit his
lip, hit by an epiphany. "No one in my social group bought me an owl even after
seeing how much I needed to use one."
"Well, maybe they gave your older self one as a graduation present," Harry
said, trying to cheer Tom up, but it didn't work. Tom gave Hedwig another
envious glance before speaking again.
"Put your shoes on," he said, waving his wand around Harry's old shoes to make
them big enough to fit. "I'm taking you out for today."
"Where?" Harry asked, brightening up.
"To the local Muggle town," Tom explained. "I believe another little reward for
you is in order after being in here for so long and for mastering third year
spells. No one from the magical world should bother us now that Dumbledore has
seen that you are in good health."
"Speaking of which," Harry said, smiling, "thank you!" He ran up to Tom and
surprised him with a quick hug. "I've always had a problem with being
underweight," Harry explained, taking a couple steps back.
"Well, congratulations," Tom said unemotionally. "Now you're of average
weight."
                                      ***
The moment they walked out the front doors, Tom warned Harry not to leave his
side or else he would curse him. Harry complied, too happy to be back outside
to argue. While Harry had been gaining Tom's trust, there was still work to be
done. A couple of times Harry felt as though Tom was putting him through a test
to see how much he could trust him.
The Muggle town was small yet a delight to be in. Harry couldn't stop muttering
"Thank you" to Tom over and over. He wanted to spend more time looking around
at the shops, but Tom pulled him towards one of the restaurants.
"Of course, you picked the most expensive one," Harry commented when they
settled down, glad that Tom had magically altered their clothes to match the
environment. I can finally see how he's paying for the meals, Harry thought.
They sat and ate in silence for the first half of the evening. Harry took the
time to study his surrounding; he had never been in a fancy restaurant before,
since his relatives never took him out to dinner. Paintings decorated the
walls, and candles lit the room in place of electric lights.
Tom encouraged him to order as much as he wanted. At first, Harry didn't want
to, but after being stuck with deciding between two scrumptious-sounding
dishes, Harry decided on getting both.
At this rate, I'm going to gain more weight than I should, Harry thought a
little guilty as he tucked into his lobster dinner. "How come you never gain
weight?" he asked Tom.
"No idea," Tom said. "I believe it's either due to my metabolism or the stress
level in my life."
"You shouldn't stress," Harry said. "Have you been doing everything I've told
you to relax?"
"Yes, doctor," Tom said. The glow from the nearby candle illuminated his smile,
heightening his attractiveness.
"You should relax and smile more," Harry said, grinning. "It makes you look
very handsome."
"It's a pity my face took after my father," Tom said, and the gentle atmosphere
between them tensed. "I would do anything to change my appearance."
Harry gaped. "Do you how many people would die to look like you?" he said.
"Look at me, for instance. I look like a hedgehog."
"You're not that bad," Tom said, chuckling. "The little weight gain had
revealed your charm."
"Thanks," Harry said, not believing him. He looked down at his plate, then
looked up at Tom with a look of horror. "I...I just ate everything, and I'm
still hungry!" He narrowed his eyes. "You're not magically controlling my
appetite, are you?"
"I might be," Tom said casually. "I don't like seeing emaciated people. Would
you like dessert?"
"Yeah, treacle tart, if possible," Harry said, feeling a little embarrassed.
Tom ordered their dessert and a bottle of wine for himself.
"Here you go, sweeties," the cheery waitress said when she brought their orders
and the check. "Now, take care of your brother," she told Harry, indicating to
the wine and Tom.
"I will," Harry said, inwardly laughing at how they were mistaken for
relations. Tom paid the waitress for their entire meal by magically producing
money from his pocket.
"The money's fake!" Harry hissed at Tom, disbelieving.
"Where else did you think I was getting it?" Tom asked. "I'm not secretly
working anywhere."
"But you're harming their economy," Harry said, wishing he hadn’t ordered
lobster.
"Maybe I shouldn't have," Tom said mordantly. "I really care about the well-
being of Muggles." He snorted and uncorked the wine bottle. Harry watched him
take a couple of chugs.
"I hope you're not a violent drunk," Harry said.
"I was once told I pulverized an entire village and vandalized an old lady's
house with my vomit after I had too many firewhiskeys," Tom said. "Bit of a
shame I don't remember any of it."
"I hope you're just kidding."
"I hope so too." He grinned deviously.
By the time Harry was done with his treacle tart, Tom's cheeks were flushed and
he was mumbling and giggling under his breath about World War II and Nazi
soldiers. It was a little amusing to watch him at first, but when Tom ordered a
second bottle and paid the waitress, Harry began to feel worried. What if he
doesn't stop at two? He jumped up and hauled Tom out of the restaurant.
A first Tom resisted, but when his eyes fell on the forest not too far away, he
cackled drunkenly and broke from Harry's hold. He ran into the forest, and
Harry chased after him. Harry could hear Tom shrieking with laughter and
yelling obscenities into the night sky. When he caught up to him, Tom had
tripped over a tree stump.
"Tom, are you okay?" Harry asked worriedly as he helped Tom upright again. Wine
had spilled from the bottle, but Tom didn't seem hurt. He giggled and slumped
down on the stump. Harry crouched down and looked up at him, observing his
face.
"You look okay," Harry said. "You need to be more careful next time." Tom
didn't seem to be listening to him. He took a swig of the bottle, and without
warning, he spat out the liquid all over Harry's face. Harry screamed angrily,
and Tom started laughing again.
"What'd you do that for?" Harry yelled at him, but Tom kept giggling.
"I love it when you're angry," Tom said cheerfully.
"You like that?" Harry said, dumbfounded. Tom nodded and chuckled again.
Suddenly, his face fell.
"They used to hurt me, Harry," Tom said sadly, his eyes lowered.
"Who?"
"The orphanage."
Harry didn't recall ever seeing anyone in the orphanage mistreat him, but he
leaned closer. "What did they used to do?"
"Every time I was a bad boy, they would spray me with dihydrogen monoxide," Tom
whimpered, looking utterly vulnerable. Harry couldn't help but feel terrible
for him. "They thought it would purify me. I could have died from too much
exposure."
"That's awful!" Harry said, wondering why he was only hearing about this right
now. "I never heard of this chemical before."
"Here, this is how you spell it," Tom said. He waved his wand over the grass,
and bright green light formed three characters next to Harry.
                                      H2O
As the realization came to him, Harry wanted to kick himself. Tom saw his
cheeks burn red, and he guffawed. Harry grabbed a pebble nearby and threw it at
Tom.
"You...are...a...nut!" Harry shrieked. The small pebble bounced off Tom's right
shoulder, and he fell backwards from the alcohol's effect, laughing so hard he
could barely breathe. Harry stared at him; now was the perfect opportunity to
kick him for everything he had done, but Harry shook his head. I just can't
harm him, he thought, and he walked behind Tom, put his arms around Tom’s
torso, and heaved him to his feet.
It took Harry a while to drag the drunken wizard back to the manor. He was
still angry and embarrassed by Tom's trick, and he continued to yell at Tom
even as he forced him into his night robes. The moment Tom's head touched the
pillow, he fell asleep. Harry clambered onto his side of the bed and smashed
his face against the pillow, trying to drown out what had happened.
I shouldn't have trusted him! But I have to admit, it was a clever trick for a
drunk nutcase, Harry thought, and he spent the remainder of the night wondering
how he could fool Ron and his dormmates with dihydrogen monoxide.
                                      ***
The trees around them had shed their last leaves. The wind grew heavier and
colder. Harry was thankful he had his old sweaters to wear. He offered Tom one
of his, but Tom had declined, instead deciding to buy his own sweaters from a
Muggle shop.
They continued their lessons on magic and love. Tom was now comfortable with
having Harry studying close by in the library; occasionally, their heads would
lift from their books at the same time and their eyes would lock on each other.
A smile would be exchanged before they went back to their reading.
One morning, Harry awoke to find the entire house scattered with Christmas
decorations.
"I found this in the attic," Tom explained as he magically cast ornaments
recklessly all over the hall. "They are ancient, but it shouldn't stop us from
having a little fun."
They found mistletoe and decided to hang it up above Grindelwald and Aderyn's
painting. It instantly put Aderyn in the mood for a kiss.
"Not in front of the lads!" Grindelwald cried out as she lunged at him
hungrily. Tom and Harry stood side by side across from the painting, laughing
and unaware that at that very moment, their fingers had entwined around each
other's.
"Tom, I must send this to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said the next morning,
clutching an envelope in his hands.
"What for?" Tom asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.
"It's about your Christmas present!" Harry said quickly. "Trust me, I didn't
say anything bad about you here."
"How are you sure he'll agree to it?"
"It's my money. I can do whatever I want with it. I just want him to carry on
my message," Harry said. To his relief, Tom allowed him to use Hedwig.
Christmas morning was an edgy ordeal. Their peaceful breakfast was disturbed by
a few owls, including Hedwig, who came to deliver Harry’s presents. He got a
new sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well as dozens of pies and cakes. He was
surrounded by gifts from Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. Tom, on the other hand, sat
alone with not a single present.
Feeling guilty, Harry tried not to look at Tom as he unwrapped his gift from
Ron. All of the delivery owls had flown away except one. It was a male Northern
hawk owl, and he made his way towards Tom. He looked at him for a few seconds
then, as if recognizing him, he hooted and stuck his chest out proudly as
though he were a prince introducing himself.
"That must be your Christmas present from me," Harry said. "I thought you might
like it. Now you wouldn't have to use any more pigeons for your deliveries."
"He's mine?" Tom said, surprised. His new owl hooted proudly again. Tom smiled
and stroked the owl's chest. "Thank you, Harry." He stretched out his hand, and
the owl gave one of Tom's fingers a soft nibble. "Jarlath," Tom announced the
owl's name. "You are certainly a proper young fellow."
The owl's eyes fell on Hedwig, and he immediately straitened up even more,
stretching his body to the point that he looked comical. Tom laughed.
"I think my owl has taken a fancy to your owl," he said, laughing. "Only a
pretty lady can make this prince lose his senses."
                                      ***
Harry didn't see Tom again after that day. He knew that Tom was around because
he could hear him occasionally, but they stopped sitting together for meals and
sharing the same bed. The library was suddenly empty without him around.
Two evenings before Tom's birthday, Harry heard Tom moving about the bedroom.
He rushed up to see him crouched over the dresser.
"Tom, where have you been?" Harry said, starling him. Tom moaned and swayed
before flopping on the bed. Taking a couple steps closer, Harry could see the
problem. "You're ill!"
"It's the influenza," Tom said. He was shivering, the tip of his nose was red,
and his hands clutched a box of Kleenex. "I didn't factor in this complication
when I entered the diary. The influenza virus strengthens every year; I have
about fifty years worth of sickness to catch up on." Harry moved closer to Tom,
but he pushed him away. "I don't want to pass it on to you."
"Don't worry about me," Harry said, moving back towards him. "Lie down." He
helped Tom settle under the covers. Touching Tom's wrists seemed to pain him
considerably.
"I need to go to the pharmacy," Harry said. "You have to let me out." Tom
moaned and shook his head. "Tom, you must trust me! You're going to get worse
if you don't let me help you!" Finally, Tom agreed. With a trembling hand, he
produced his wand from his robes while Harry threw on his winter coat and put
on his boots. Tom pointed his wand to the balcony window, and the magical ward
was lifted off. He gasped in pain, but it didn't stop him from magically adding
Harry's coat pockets with Muggle money. The spells were weakening him.
"I'll be quick, okay?" Harry said gently. He ran out the balcony door, shutting
it behind him so the cold wind won't blow in. He climbed down the nearest tree
and set off for the Muggle town.
                                      ***
Tom hated his decision. As much as he was growing comfortable having Harry
around, he sometimes couldn't trust him. I'm just not the sort that can trust,
he thought bitterly. He groaned at the pain in his joints and back. His wand
slipped from his fingers and clattered to the cold floor. You better come back,
Harry! I swear, if you abandon me, I'll... His eyes rolled to the back of his
head, and his eyelids closed shut.
When he regained consciousness, Harry was checking his temperature.
"You're back," Tom said when Harry pulled out the thermometer from his mouth.
From the corner of his eye, he saw that his wand was sitting on the bedside
table; Harry didn't steal it back.
"Of course I'm back," Harry said. "Where else would I go? I wasn't going to
leave you here, Tom, because being abandoned would have been a horrible thing
to go through." He checked the thermometer then set is aside. He took a small
tub and uncapped it before unbuttoning Tom's night robes.
Tom watched as Harry used a cotton swab to dip into the tub and apply it over
his chest. The coolness of the ointment was soothing, and a mint-like smell
reached his nose. Harry gave him a little smile, and his eyes hovered over to
the rosary around his neck, noticing it for the first time.
"You’re wearing the cross?" Harry said, surprised. "I never expected that from
someone who killed his own father."
"I wear it simply out of habit," Tom explained, watching Harry's every move.
"It was one of the very few possessions I had as a child."
"Do you believe in God?" Harry asked curiously.
"I wasn't active in any religion, but I believed it is only logical that
everything in this universe centers around a main source," Tom said. "I neither
love nor hate this supreme being. I'm very business-like with Him, you could
say. I tell Him what I honestly like and dislike about this world. I believe He
appreciates the honest feedback; for centuries all He ever gets is millions of
praises from the blindly faithful and millions of insults from the blindly
angry."
"I never thought of that way," Harry said, laughing. Tom smiled.
"I even, on occasions, explained to Him why I would do a better job than Him if
I was in His position," Tom added.
Harry bit his lip, not sure how to respond to this blasphemous comment. "I
guess I should expect anything like that from you," he said, and it was Tom's
turn to chuckle.
"Are you certain you will be okay sitting so close to me?" Tom asked.
"I have an amazing immune system," Harry assured him. "Do you know when I last
got sick? I was six."
Tom groaned. "I want your body."
"Sorry, you can't have it," Harry teased. He left the room to make chicken
soup, and for the rest of the night Harry never left his side. Tom continually
slipped in and out of consciousness, and every time he woke up, Harry was still
by his side and the wand was still on the bedside table.
The flu had altered Tom's dreams into surreal tales. He was back at Hogwarts,
and a boy stood not too far from him. Tom was expecting to see Gerald Potter
when he turned around, but instead of meeting blue eyes, Tom saw two bright
green eyes bore into his.
Suddenly seized by a need to be with him, Tom began following Harry Potter
through every corridor and room in the castle. He sought for a reason why Harry
should be in his group.
"I will protect you from all harm!" Tom called out.
"I can protect myself," Harry called out. "If anything, I think you need some
protecting, Tom."
"What do you mean?" Tom asked, but Harry just smiled and continued running
through the halls. Tom chased after him, passing by secret passages he never
remembered existed in Hogwarts.
He was not alone in the chase. Eileen Prince and Marilyn Rosier were right
behind him, never leaving his side. Although he could not see them, he sensed
their presence.
"Where are Avery, Lestrange, and the others?" Tom asked them.
"They are not here any more," the girls responded, adding to Tom's confusion.
"Harry," Tom softly moaned when he woke up. The canopy and ceiling were
spinning in slow motion before his eyes. He felt like he was lying on a log in
a river; the swaying underneath him was getting more violent. He stretched out
his hand, and it brushed against Harry's hand; he was asleep. The swaying
turned into a turbulent rocking...he was being thrown forward...
Tom didn't know what was happening; the next thing he knew, he had barged into
the bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet.
                                      ***
Harry woke up in the middle of the night. Tom wasn't in bed, but the retching
sounds coming from the bathroom answered the question of his whereabouts.
"How are you?" Harry asked when Tom returned. He collapsed on the bed, his body
shivering aggressively. Harry helped him get under the blankets and felt his
forehead. "You're breaking into a sweat. You should be feeling better soon."
Tom nodded, too weak to talk. Harry continued watching over Tom when he fell
back asleep.
How is it that you can be so powerful and frightening yet so vulnerable and
childlike at the same time? Harry wondered as his eyes traced the contours of
Tom's handsome face.
                                      ***
Tom woke up again an hour later to find Harry sleeping close to him without a
blanket. Tom moved to cover him, and his joints and bones ached with pain as a
result.
Thank you, Harry, Tom thought. I can trust you to help me. You had the chance
to take back your wand and abandon me, but you didn't. You truly do not mind
being with me. He smiled.
A memory resurfaced from a couple months ago when Harry first left the manor. I
think I found a suitable reward for your deed.
                                     *****
Author's Notes: Dihydrogen_monoxide is an infamous hoax that was created in the
University of California. It is used to demonstrate how ignorance of science
can lead us to being duped. I never participated in this hoax, but some of my
college buddies were able to successfully get a crowd visiting the school to
sign a petition to ban this so-called deadly chemical. For more information,
you can read more about the hoax here.
***** Chapter Nine - The Visit *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                 Chapter Nine
                                   The Visit
                                        
                           I didn't mean to hurt you
                         I'm sorry that I made you cry
                           I didn't want to hurt you
                            I'm just a jealous guy
                        - "Jealous Guy" by John Lennon
                                     *****
My lord is doing very well, Nagini noted contently to herself. Her master had
led her to an area humans resided in, which he had called a "manor."
"This manor belonged to my father," he had said. "He died many years ago."
They lived mostly on the upper level. Her master rested on a soft, elevated
surface called an "armchair." She continued to feed him her venom, and after
each feeding, his body changed.
The black line running down his cloudy body had spilt into two structures. One
turned into a whitish color and ran down his back - a spine. The other piece
resided in his stomach and did not look like it belonged to his body. It burned
red and reminded Nagini of a feather. As time passed, what appeared to be wood
engulfed the feather.
One morning she had woken up to see that the wooden structure had taken on a
definite shape. Her master was squirming in his place, pushing the wooden
object up his stomach and out his wide, open mouth. A phantom hand had gripped
the piece of wood and pulled it out. Her master had chuckled.
"My wand," he had said simply.
One afternoon, Nagini felt tiny feet scuttling nearby. She raised her head to
see a large rat. She moved to grab it with her mouth, but then her master said,
"Stop." She paused, and to her surprise, the shivering rat began to grow bigger
and its features twisted. In place of the rat soon sat a fat human.
And I thought I've seen everything when I met a human who spoke my tongue,
Nagini thought, amused. The quivering fat human turned to her master and began
to speak, but she did not understand a single word they exchanged.
"M-m-m-master..."
"Dear Wormtail," Lord Voldemort said coldly, "how did you find me?"
"I spoke with every rat I came across, my lord," Wormtail said shakily. "I knew
you would be safe."
"Why didn't you come sooner?"
Wormtail cringed. "Times were hard, my lord," he said desperately. "The Aurors
were searching everywhere to find any Death Eater they could send to Azkaban. I
had to hide!"
"Where did you hide?"
"I made myself friendly to one of the Weasley children," Wormtail said. "The
boy took me in, and I've been in the family ever since."
"And what brought you out of your hiding place and into here?"
"I did not believe it when I first heard the news," Wormtail said. His body was
still shaking. "The Weasleys’ only daughter was murdered. She was taken down to
a place called the Chamber of Secrets, and Dumbledore claimed it was you who
killed her."
His master's large, coal-like eyes widened. "What was the wizard's name?"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Wormtail answered. "He came out of a diary that the
Weasley girl was writing in for months."
"That wizard is me," Lord Voldemort said, surprising Wormtail. "Surely you've
noticed the name in front of the manor we are staying in, Wormtail? This was my
filthy father's dwelling."
"I'm sorry, master," Wormtail said hurriedly. "I should have known. I didn't
take the time to read the sign."
"You are forgiven," Lord Voldemort said. "Tell me everything else you know
about the events."
Wormtail nodded and recounted everything he had overheard from Ron Weasley. He
told him about how Harry had run down to save Ginny and ended up being taken
hostage, how the basilisk was killed, and how now the entire school was under
scrutiny for anything connected to Lord Voldemort.
"When did this happen?" Lord Voldemort questioned when Wormtail was done.
"Last May, sir," Wormtail replied. "Four months ago."
"Four months?" Lord Voldemort said, surprised. "My younger self has left the
diary and he did not seek me for four months? What about Potter?"
"He is still alive," Wormtail said. "Dumbledore had a brief chance to talk to
him. From what I can understand, Harry and your younger self are in the same
place."
"Where?"
"I do not know, my lord."
Lord Voldemort lowered his head and was quiet for a long time. Nagini raised
her head and watched him, wondering if there was anything he wanted to tell
her. When her lord emerged from his contemplation, he said to the fat human,
"You are to go back to the Weasley boy."
Wormtail's trembling intensified. "My lord? No, I cannot go back! They're going
to find out who I am!"
"Don't give them the chance!" Lord Voldemort said angrily. "Have you forgotten
your Animagus form after being a vermin for so long? Hide among the forest rats
when the guards search the students' pets."
"Y-y-y-yes, my lord."
"You are to spy on the Weasley boy and the Mudblood. They are the closest to
Potter, and any news of him will reach them. You are to report to me on a
regular basis about what is happening."
"Yes, my lord."
"And contact Lucius Malfoy. I must have a word with him."
"Yes, my lord."
"Now, go!"
Wormtail nodded. "Yes, my lord," he said once more, and then he dashed out of
the room after transforming back into his Animagus form.
                                      ***
The human, which her lord told Nagini was called Wormtail, came and went over
the next few weeks. Nagini watched him as he spoke with her lord using the
human language she did not understand. One time a tall human accompanied him
and spoke with her lord, clearly upset.
Every now and then her lord would have Wormtail collect her venom. Nagini
amused herself in those times by pretending that she was about to strike him.
Wormtail fell for it every time.
"Hey, stinky!" Nagini hissed loudly and pretended to strike. The human squealed
loudly and jumped backwards, cowering in the corner.
"Wormtail, hurry up!" her lord called angrily from his seat, but Nagini caught
a hint of amusement in his voice.
The world around Nagini was getting colder. She was out of the house for longer
periods of time, feeding on any mouse that she could find among the fallen
leaves while paying attention to making sure she didn't accidentally swallow
Wormtail. She could easily pick out his human scent, and she jokingly reminded
herself that a human may not be a tasty treat.
"I cannot handle this time of year," she hissed one morning as she made her way
out the room. "My body can't handle the change of moods of the earth."
"Come back, Nagini," her lord said. She obeyed him. "Don't go today. I need you
for the winter."
"I'm afraid this is something I cannot control, my lord," Nagini said.
"I can help you," her lord said. With a black skeletal hand, he beckoned her to
him. She slithered up the sofa and wrapped herself around her lord. He pointed
the thin stick at her, and instantly, Nagini felt warmer.
This is so much better, Nagini thought. Just then, the Wormtail appeared. He
said something to her lord that she did not understand, but Nagini smelt a
change in her lord.
"Harry Potter is living with my younger self on his own free will?" he angrily
hissed in her tongue. He was shaking from a mixture of fury, shock, and
confusion. Wormtail just stared at her lord, trembling again.
Nagini didn't know what he was talking about or why a hairy pot was making him
so upset.
Silly humans, she thought, and then she went to sleep.
                                      ***
"Harry," Tom called out. He sat before a small table in the living room,
wrapped in a blanket. The flu was subsiding, and he had enough energy to go
from room to room.
Harry appeared quickly in the doorway. "Do you need anything, Tom?" he asked,
smiling.
Tom returned the smile. "I want you to write a letter for me," he said,
motioning to the parchment, quill, and ink bottle before him.
"Are you having trouble writing?" Harry asked, looking a little concerned.
"Yes," Tom said with a faint smirk. "It was an awful illness." Harry nodded and
settled on the other side of Tom. He dipped the quill into the ink bottle and
positioned it above the parchment.
"Ready," he said.
"This is what I want you to write," Tom said. "Dear Ron and Hermione." He let
the words sink in. Harry looked up at him, surprised. Tom kept smiling. "What
are you waiting for? Write the letter!"
"Thanks," Harry said, still looking bewildered at what was happening. He
scribbled away on the piece of parchment, a smile creeping on his face with
every new line. "Today is your birthday," Harry said when he looked up again.
"Is there anything I can get for you?"
"You already got me Jarlath for Christmas," Tom said, "and you have already
given me a wonderful gift."
"What is it?"
Your friendship, Tom thought, but he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he
motioned for Harry to continue with his letter.
                                      ***
Ron and Hermione never expected to see Hedwig, so when she flew through the
window of the Weasleys’ kitchen and landed right in front of where they ate
breakfast, it took them a moment to register what had just happened. Mr. and
Mrs. Weasley, the twins, and Percy all looked up and didn't move.
Hedwig offered the letter to Ron, who glanced at Hermione and at his family
before taking it. Fingers shaking, he opened the envelope and lifted the letter
out.
"It's him!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "It's Harry!" Everyone jolted out
from their seats and gathered around Ron, listening as he read the letter out
loud.
"Dear Ron and Hermione," Ron read. "I was finally given the chance to write a
letter to you. Don't worry about me. I'm doing very well. Well, at first I was
in danger, but I took care of myself and I'm perfectly fine now. Tom says I'm
not allowed to write any more about what happened, at least for now. Don't
worry about it. I still have all of my limbs, and my brain is still intact."
Several people laughed.
"Tom is not a threat to me anymore. I cannot say everything that's been
happening. I've sort of been getting to know him. All I will say is that I
think I'm gaining his trust and friendship. If I keep this up, then he'll never
hurt anyone again.
"That's why I asked to stay here with him when Professor Dumbledore brought my
stuff a couple months ago. I think I'm the only one who can help him. I can't
say where I'm staying at, but it's a comfortable home. The old owners have been
dead for a while, but you can still talk to their paintings in the private
library. The old witch who used to live here is crazy.
"Tom has been teaching me magic and feeding me some really delicious meals I
never ate before in my life. You'll never believe how much he likes to eat;
you'd think he would be bigger than Dudley. Did you ever try fried plantains
before? I'm gaining weight thanks to him, so you can stop cringing every time
you see my ribs.
"I'm doing well with my studies, and Tom is a very good teacher. Thank you for
all of your presents; I hope you liked mine even if it was nothing special.
"I hope to hear from you both very soon. I missed you a lot. Signed, Harry."
Mrs. Weasley and Hermione's faces were wet with tears when Ron was done.
"Oh, good heavens, he's all right!" Mrs. Weasley said tearfully when Ron was
done. She grabbed random people around her and gave them a tight hug. Hermione
ran up to her room and came back down with quills, ink bottles, and parchment.
While the other Weasleys celebrated at finally hearing word from Harry, Ron and
Hermione set out to write a reply. Hermione started the letter, but Ron butted
in before she was done with the first paragraph.
"Ouch! Ron!" she said. He had accidentally stabbed her hand with his quill.
"Sorry," Ron said as he hastily scribbled some words down. They took turns
writing the letter, and they were soon joined by the rest of the Weasley family
who told them what else to write.
                                      ***
Tom watched Harry as he read Ron and Hermione's reply. He turned the letter
sideways every now and then, reading the side notes his friends have written,
smiling the entire time.
"Like it?" Tom asked. "You're free to write to them whenever you wish." Harry
turned to him.
"Thank you," he said, beaming. He lunged at Tom with another hug, but this time
Tom was prepared. He briefly enjoyed the warmth of Harry's body next to him,
and slowly, he awkwardly brought one arm around Harry's back, hugging him back.
                                      ***
Harry continually exchanged letters with his friends, occasionally reading out
loud parts he especially liked to Tom. Tom listened although in truth he was
not as interested in Ron and Hermione as much as Harry was. However, he was
astounded at much more alive Harry had become. He became more attentive during
their lessons and was generally happier than before.
Harry began to act as though the manor he lived in truly belonged to him. It
wasn't long before Tom found himself face to face with a large, square, metal
object.
"How did I agree to this?" he questioned as Harry read instructions on how to
set up a smaller rectangular gadget to the television set.
"This manor is too quiet sometimes," Harry explained, "and I never had the
chance to watch whatever I wanted before." He hooked up the little gadget and
positioned the television to a suitable place in the living room.
"If he was still alive, Grindelwald would have a stroke if he saw this," Tom
said, shaking his head and smiling faintly at how strange the modern-day object
looked in the ancient room. He picked up a display of a vulture skeleton from
one of the shelves and crowned the television with it. "It looks a little bit
better."
Noticing there wasn't anyplace to put the plug in, Harry turned to Tom. "Can
you help me start the television?" he asked. "I remember that one of your
school friends could make electrical objects work." When Tom didn't budge,
Harry decided to challenge him. "What's wrong? You didn't forget the spell, did
you?"
"I still remember it," Tom said. He pulled out his wand, thought for a second,
and waved his wand around the television. The screen lit up, greeting them with
static.
"We're not connected to any channels," Tom reminded Harry.
"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "That's why I bought this." He patted the
small rectangular object above the television. "It's called a VCR. It plays
movies for us." He pulled out another small object from the pile of opened
boxes and bags and showed it to Tom. "This is called a videocassette," he
explained. "You put this in the slot over here, and it plays the movie for
you."
"Simply fascinating," Tom said unemotionally.
Harry sighed. "I thought of you when I got this movie," he said, showing him
the cover. Tom raised an eyebrow at the title: Sssssss!
Harry laughed. "I've heard about this movie a few years ago, and I think
there's something in there you might like."
"What could possibly be in a Muggle horror film that will interest me?" Tom
asked, but Harry kept smiling. Harry motioned for Tom to take a seat, which Tom
obeyed reluctantly. Harry inserted the videocassette and sat next to Tom.
Tom stubbornly avoided looking at the television set, impatient for the movie
to end. And then, he heard it.
"Stupid human. Your acting's not getting any better!"
Harry grinned and raised the volume.
"They used real snakes in the movie," Harry said. "Let's see what comments they
make throughout the movie."
A mischievous smile crept on Tom's face, and he became more attentive to the
rest of the movie. The snakes on the set didn't disappoint them. Their highly
creative insults at the actors left the two boys laughing too hard to pay
attention to what was happening in the actual movie. Some of the comments were
so vulgar that Harry felt embarrassed someone like Tom heard it. Tom, however,
was enjoying every minute of it.
I love it when he laughs, Harry thought while observing Tom. The weight on his
shoulders seem to disappear. He even looks more handsome, if that is even
possible.
Tom noticed that he was being observed, and he turned towards Harry. Harry
smiled and absentmindedly wiped a tear of mirth from Tom's face.
"I hope you'll always be happy, Tom," Harry said.
                                      ***
"I was ten when I first spoke to a snake," Harry said sleepily later that
night. The two boys lay in bed, Harry on his stomach, and Tom on his left side.
"What did the snake tell you?" Tom asked. Harry's head rested on the pillow,
his messy black hair fell on his eyes, and he had the blanket pulled up to his
nose. Only his brilliant green eyes were visible in the dark, their piercing,
intense gaze locked with Tom's eyes. The two boys weren't aware of how close
they rested next to each other.
"He was born and raised in captivity," Harry said, "but he wanted to go to
Brazil."
"Did you help him?"
"By accident," Harry said. "I made the glass disappear somehow, and he got
away. I didn't know how I did it, but at least Dudley got a scare." They both
chuckled.
"I was four when I first spoke to a snake," Tom said. "It was during one of the
orphanage's trips to the country. I was sitting on one of the picnic tables
when I saw a garden snake come up to me and begin speaking. No one believed me
at that time, but right away I knew that there was something about me that was
different. Different and special."
"I didn't think there was anything about me that was special even after I went
to Hogwarts," Harry said. "I didn't know about Parseltongue being rare until my
second year."
"Such self-confidence," Tom teased. He gently tapped the tip of Harry's nose
with one finger, and a hint of a smile peeked through the blanket.
                                      ***
The snow around Grindelwald's manor had melted, and forest experienced many
heavy storms and grey, gloomy days. Tom waited for an appropriate day to take
Harry to the magical village. None of the protections were taken off around the
village; Professor Dumbledore obviously didn't trust him yet and so wouldn’t
tell the Minister to lift them.
Still don't believe me when I say that I will not harm Harry, do you,
professor? Tom thought bitterly one morning as he planned how to disguise
Harry. It was the first sunny day of the new year, and Tom decided it was time
to take the trip; he knew Harry would greatly enjoy being in a magical village.
"Tom, I look really weird," Harry said after Tom magically changed his hair to
blonde. "The hair makes my skin look like mustard!"
Tom sighed. He had been trying to disguise Harry for the past fifteen minutes.
The process should not have taken so long. With another swish of his wand,
Harry's hair turned red. Harry looked in the mirror and winced. "Tom, light
hair just doesn’t look good on me."
Tom growled; can't that idiot ever get satisfied? "I don't care!" he screamed.
"It's only temporary!" He grabbed Harry's chin with one hand and began flicking
his wand madly across Harry's face.
"Ow - Tom, watch it! That hurts!" Harry complained the entire time. When
finally Tom let him go, Harry turned to the mirror.
"What do you think?" Tom asked, annoyed.
"It's not bad," Harry said. "You covered up my scar, and..." He stopped
talking. "Why do I sound like this?" he took a closer look at the mirror, then
turned to Tom, his eyes narrowed. "Why do I look and sound a little...girlish?"
"That's what you get for annoying me early in the morning," Tom said. Satisfied
with the way Harry looked, he made for the door. "Let's get going, Goldilocks."
"You won't get away with this!" Harry yelled, hating the sound of his high
voice.
                                      ***
Harry's anger at Tom vanished the moment they reached the magical village. The
relief and excitement at being outside made up for his appearance.
"Thank you, Tom," Harry told him as they peeked inside the window of a
Quidditch supply shop. "Ron and Hermione have been telling me about a place
called Hogsmeade. I wished I could go."
"Here is not as beautiful as Hogsmeade," Tom confessed. "But I'm sure you've
missed being in another magical environment besides home."
"You don't know how much I love this world," Harry said.
"No, I perfectly understand how you feel," Tom corrected. "I don't think I've
ever been happier in my life than when I went to Hogwarts."
Tom took Harry to a small pub called The Chimera Café. In one corner a small
group of witches sat huddled together. Most of them appeared to be writing, and
dozens of rolls of parchment lay scattered around them. Every now and then,
Harry heard one of them giggling.
Tom led Harry to a seat across from the group.
"Your glasses remind me of someone," the waitress said when she walked to their
table. She took a good look at Harry, and then her eyes darted over to the far
wall, where there was a picture of Harry looking exactly as he had before his
magical growth spurt and the addition of Tom’s disguise. It was one of Colin’s
pictures from the previous year; Harry’s false smile in the photo was
occasionally broken as he groaned and rolled his eyes. "You know, you look a
lot like -"
"I know," Harry quickly interrupted, giving a girly giggle. "Everyone I meet
tell me I look like I'm his sister!" When the waitress left, Harry threw Tom,
who was grinning, a dirty look.
"Try this," Tom said, pushing a mug towards Harry. "It's called butterbeer."
"Ron and Hermione told me about it!" Harry said, brightening up. He took big
gulps from his mug.
"Do you like it?" Tom asked, smiling, his eyes never leaving him.
"I love it," Harry said, grinning.
A corner of Tom's mouth twitched, and he brought a napkin to Harry's face. He
wiped the thin line of butterbeer moustache from Harry's face. They both
chuckled. When Tom brought his arm down, his hand rested on the table barely an
inch away from Harry's.
One of the witches gave a finished piece of parchment to her neighbor, and the
witch laughed heartily after reading it.
"Tom, can Ron and Hermione visit us for Easter?" Harry suddenly asked. "I
haven't seen them in a long time, I miss them, and I think Easter break will be
a good time for them to come here."
Tom looked hesitant.
"It would mean a lot to me," Harry pressed on.
"How are you sure their parents will agree to send them here?" Tom asked.
"It won't hurt to ask," Harry said.
Tom thought about it for a long while. Finally, he said, "They can come."
Harry beamed.
In the years that followed, Tom would wonder if the visit was the best or worst
thing that had ever happened in his life.
                                      ***
"He wants us to visit him," Hermione said as she and Ron read Harry's letter.
They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room alone in a corner. Scabbers,
who had been asleep nearby, looked up.
"Excellent!" Ron said, beaming. "I was wondering when we could see him!"
Hermione frowned. "You know Professor Dumbledore and your parents won't let
us."
"But don't you want to see Harry?" Ron asked.
"I do," Hermione replied, "but don't forget whose house we will be in."
"I don't care about that bastard," Ron said angrily. "I want to see my best
friend! We have every right to see him, Hermione!"
"Even if you want to visit him, there's still the issue of your parents,"
Hermione pointed out.
"Simple," Ron said. "We'll sneak out. We'll tell Harry that everyone agreed,
but we won't tell anyone."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Are you out of your mind, Ron? We're going to get into
trouble!"
"It will be worth it," Ron said stubbornly. "Anything is worth it if we can see
Harry."
He grabbed a new roll of parchment and began to write their reply hastily.
Hermione sighed and shook her head before joining him. Behind them, Scabbers
got up and scampered out the room without being discovered.
                                      ***
"Master!" Wormtail shouted hurriedly as he sprinted in the room. "Master, I
just heard news. The boy has sent a letter to his friends asking them to visit
him for the Easter vacation."
Lord Voldemort, who had been petting Nagini, looked intrigued. "What is my
younger self planning? Surely he does not intend to let Potter's friends leave
alive. I want you to go with them, Wormtail. Tell me where they are staying and
what my younger self is up to."
"Yes, master," Wormtail said breathlessly. He transfigured into his rat form as
he dashed out the door.
                                      ***
Ron and Hermione were still packing at the Burrow as the minutes ticked away.
In just a few minutes they were going to see Harry again, and along with their
clothes, toothbrushes, and school supplies, they brought gifts that everyone -
the Weasley family, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and even some of the teachers - had
bought for Harry. No one except Ron and Hermione knew that the gifts were to be
taken personally and not by owl post.
"I think we got everything," Hermione said as she quickly glanced around her
bedroom to make sure she had not forgotten anything.
At that moment, Scabbers jumped up on one of the traveling trunks. Ron grabbed
him. "You're not coming with us," he said. He carried Scabbers back in his
room. "You're staying here," Ron said. "I don't want you to be anywhere near
Riddle. Knowing him, he could fry you and eat you for dinner."
Scabbers tried to escape, but Ron held him tightly. "What's up with you,
Scabbers?" he said.
"Ron, quick!" Hermione called out, running to his room. "The Portkey is about
to be activated!" She quickly glanced around to make sure that none of the
other family members knew what they were up to. As if running to Harry's house
without permission wasn't bad enough, they were to travel by an unauthorized
Portkey set up by Tom Riddle.
If I get expelled from Hogwarts, I'll never forgive you, Riddle! Hermione
thought nervously.
Ron tossed Scabbers onto his bed and ran out the room. Scabbers squeaked loudly
and dashed out, running as fast as he could to Hermione's room.
He was gaining on Ron and Hermione. Their hands were both stretched out and
about to touch the tea kettle. Scabbers jumped up...
Right before he could touch the nearest traveling trunk, the two friends and
their trunks disappeared.
NO! Wormtail thought as he came crashing down onto the hard kitchen floor. He
squeaked loudly and painfully. What am I going to tell my master? He squeaked
loudly and painfully again.
Mrs. Weasley stuck her head in the room. She noticed Scabbers lying on the
floor in an uncomfortable position.
"Poor little thing," Mrs. Weasley said as she picked him up and checked for any
broken limbs. "I was wondering what that strange sound was..." She carried him
back to Ron's bedroom. "What were you doing in Hermione's room?" She set him on
Ron's bed then looked around.
"Ronnie dear? Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley called out. She hadn't seen them seen
breakfast. She looked out Ron's window. "Have you seen Ron or Hermione?" She
called out to Fred and George. They shook their heads.
Now worried, Mrs. Weasley skimmed through the house. She looked into the living
room, the other bedrooms, and even the bathroom in case one of them had gotten
sick. There was no sign of them anywhere.
Where are they? she wondered fearfully, walking back to Ron's bedroom. It was
then that she noticed the letter sitting on Ron's bedside cabinet.
Mom,
By the time you read this letter, we'll be already with Harry and Riddle.
Hermione and I are going to see Harry for the entire Easter vacation. We didn't
want to tell you or Professor Dumbledore because we knew that you won't let us
go. But we really want to see Harry, so we had to keep it a secret. We'll be
back next Sunday before school starts again.
Ron
***** Chapter Ten - Beautiful Reality *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                  Chapter Ten
                               Beautiful Reality
                                        
                    "Love is the difficult realization that
                    something other than oneself is real."
                                - Iris Murdoch
                                     *****
Although it wasn't until around past midnight that Tom finally fell asleep, he
was fully awake by morning. He raised his head to check that Harry was asleep
on the sofa chair, then he got up, fetched his day robes, and headed straight
for the bathroom.
He quickly showered, and when he was done, he stole a quick look inside the
bedroom. Harry was still asleep, but Tom didn't want to face him once he woke
up.
Descending down the stairs, Tom headed for the library.
                                      ***
Harry woke up sometime later on. It took a minute for his thoughts to return to
him as he recalled everything that happened the night before.
"Tom..." Harry said softly under his breath. He turned around, but Tom wasn't
in bed. He lightly touched the spot on his lips where Tom had kissed him.
Turning around, Harry stared out the balcony window for a few moments before
jumping out of the couch. He pulled on his day robes and headed out the room.
He had to speak to Tom, but the very thought of looking at him in the eye
frightened Harry. What was to happen between them now?
Before Harry could answer that question, he found himself in front of the
library. He smiled faintly. Of course, I always know where to find him, Harry
thought. He peeked inside to find Tom sitting on a sofa chair, his back turned
towards Harry. From his posture it seemed like Tom was deep in thought.
Harry's heart constricted. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
                                      ***
When Tom entered the library, he saw that Grindelwald and Aderyn were asleep in
one corner of the painting. Aderyn leaned against Grindelwald as she slept, and
Grindelwald had an arm around her.
Tom sat down on one of the sofas. Pieces of parchment lay scattered on the
table in front of him. He picked one up and took a good look. Etched all over
the parchment were tic-tac-toe games and little note exchanges between Harry
and Ron. Tom traced his finger over Harry's writing, smiling, remembering when
he first felt Harry write in his diary...
He was just a spirit trapped in a book, and instead of reading or seeing any
words on the page, Tom felt the words all over his phantom body. He closed his
eyes and imagined himself on a bed, and Harry was writing all over his naked
body, smiling in that slight mischievous manner of his, his eyes intensely
locked into Tom's eyes...
Sighing, Tom opened his eyes again. What was this emotion running through his
body? A mixture of fear, excitement, and confusion filled him. In one moment,
he wanted to laugh as loud and as insanely as he could; in the next, he was
terrified at the intensity of what he felt.
I must be going mad, Tom thought.
There was a sudden knock on the door, startling Tom.
"Tom?" Harry softly called.
Tom's heart beat heavily. He wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Harry was
surely going to ask him about what he had done, and Tom didn't have an adequate
response planned. He quickly grabbed a quill nearby, dipped it in the ink
bottle, and began pretending that he was writing on the parchments scattered
before him.
"Tom?" Harry asked. He was standing behind him, just a few feet away.
"I'm working right now," Tom said in a business-like tone. "What do you need?"
"Nothing," Harry said. "I was just wondering if you're feeling okay."
"I am feeling fine. Thank you for asking."
"I want to apologize again about my behavior during the visit."
"I already told you that you don't need to apologize." Tom heard Harry take a
step forward; he tightened his grip on his quill.
"I'm happy that you took me back in the room," Harry said. "It shows that
you're feeling empathy." He took another step forward.
"Is that what it is?" Tom said. "Then empathy is a selfish emotion. I brought
you back in only because I remembered how I felt in a similar situation."
"No, it's not selfish," Harry said gently, taking another step. "It means that
you sympathized with my situation. It would have been selfish if you knew what
I was going through but done nothing. You care about me." He took another step
forward. He was getting so close...Tom's hand shook, but he refused to turn
around. "Tom, look at me."
"I have a lot to do this morning," he said, refusing to look at Harry. He felt
Harry get even closer. He was over his shoulder now.
"Tom, what are you doing?" Harry asked.
"Writing," Tom said as calmly as he could.
Harry laughed. "You're not even doing that." Tom took a peek at what his hand
was doing. The ink had run out from the quill a long time ago, and he had been
just scratching the parchment haphazardly.
Tom laughed lightly, letting the quill slip from his fingers. Harry crouched
down next to him, and Tom looked in the other direction away from Harry.
"Can I ask you about what you did after you took me in?" Harry asked, and for
the first time, there was nervousness in his voice. Tom was sure Harry could
hear his heart pounding.
"It's like you said," Tom replied, determinedly keeping his face away from
Harry. "I care for you." And then he felt Harry's lips pressed against his
cheek. He gasped softly, and finally, he turned around. He looked at Harry
questioningly; Harry simply smiled.
"I never had the chance to return the kiss last night," he explained shyly.
Without another word, he turned around and left, leaving Tom alone in the
library.
Still stunned by the kiss, he stared up at the sleeping couple in the painting.
Grindelwald still had an arm over his wife, his fingers entwined in her hair.
Tom blinked, and suddenly he was seeing himself up there in the painting, and
sleeping in his arms was...
"Harry!" Tom called out as he dashed out the library. Harry, who was midway
through the hallway, stopped. Just as Tom curled an arm around Harry's waist,
Harry turned around, and as though both had been waiting for this moment, their
lips met. Harry brought his arms around Tom for a hug as they kissed, and
before Tom broke away, he brought his hand up to Harry's cheek.
"Harry, what is this?" he asked softly. "What kind of love is this?"
Harry laughed, lifting Tom's spirits. How he loved that laughter! "I...think
it's the same kind of love my father felt for my mother," he said.
Tom moved in for another kiss. It was the first time either of them had ever
kissed, and so they missed or bumped each other's noses during their first few
attempts. Finally, while both of them laughed at the new experience, they found
a comfortable position. Tom moaned happily at the sensation. He massaged
Harry's back while they gently rocked. Getting too enthusiastic, Tom's grip on
Harry tightened; he swiftly spun around, and they crashed against the wall.
"Harry! Are you okay?" Tom asked, embarrassed at his clumsiness.
"Yeah," Harry replied, laughing. He gently poked Tom's belly. "Take it easy
with me. I'm not made of iron."
Tom helped Harry up. Harry turned away from Tom, looking as though he were
about to walk away, but then, without warning, he spun around and quickly
kissed Tom on the lips again. Harry laughed at his own impetuousness.
Tom smiled. He looked down and saw that they were holding hands. He didn't
remember reaching out for Harry's hand; it had happened as though it was the
most natural act in the world.
"Harry, how did this happen?" Tom asked. Powerful emotions were filling inside
him, frightening and exciting him all at once. None were negative emotions, but
this was nothing like Tom had ever felt in his life. He wanted to do something
spectacular and very dangerous, and the thought of doing such a thing alarmed
him.
"How did what happen?" Harry asked.
"You…me…this," Tom said, motioning to their entwined fingers and all around
them.
Harry chuckled. "I don't know. Do you think there's a reason for everything?"
"This is what you meant before," Tom said. "That science books cannot explain
this." He was stunned. Harry bit his lower lip, suddenly worried. Tom looked
dizzied as he frantically tried to understand everything.
"Don't think too hard about it," Harry said gently. "Scientists fall in love
all the time, but they don't try to dissect it to the bone."
"They should," Tom said.
"I'm sure they've tried for many years," Harry assured him. "They found
nothing, so they gave up. If they did find something, people would know more
about love. There wouldn't be so many divorces." He laughed, giving Tom a tight
hug. "You know, you're really adorable right now," Harry teased him. "Mr. Young
Dark Lord, with power enough to destroy an entire country, is lost and confused
about his own heart's emotions."
"Is this the first time you’ve felt something like this?" Tom asked.
"Yes," Harry said. "I like this emotion, and I like..." He broke off then,
blushing again. Tom didn't to ask him to finish his sentence, knowing perfectly
well what the last word was.
Harry's eyes bore into Tom's, twinkling. Warmth filled inside Tom's chest,
swimming throughout his body.
Warmth...I'm growing warm, Tom thought, enjoying the sensation. He smiled down
at Harry and moved closer for another kiss. Harry, what are you doing to me?
Never has anything made me feel this happy. Harry's lips parted slightly, and
Tom delightedly kissed Harry's lower lip.
A dull sound beat in his ears...Harry's eyes flashed open, and he took a step
backward.
"Did you hear that?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Tom said, surprised. "While kissing you, I thought I heard your heart
beating."
"That's what I thought I heard!" Harry said, laughing. Taking his hand, Harry
led him quietly out of the hallway, and they soon found themselves in the
kitchen.
"Do you think this has something to do with the immortality spell?" Tom asked.
"Our minds are connected. Perhaps we are connected in other places as well."
"It makes sense," Harry said, squeezing Tom's hand.
Tom wanted to stay holding Harry's hand, but there were more important matters
at hand at the moment.
"Are you hungry?" Tom asked.
"A little," Harry said, now stroking Tom's hand softly.
"I'll make something," Tom offered, breaking away from Harry's hand, "to make
up for my behavior last night." He motioned for Harry to sit down.
"What are you going to make?" Harry asked as Tom pulled out ingredients from
the refrigerator.
"Something that includes eggs," Tom responded.
Harry laughed. "I don't trust your cooking, Tom," he said, grinning.
"There is nothing wrong with my culinary skills," Tom said defensively,
breaking an egg against the bowl.
"You just dropped some of the shell into the bowl," Harry pointed out,
smirking. "I don't like my eggs crunchy, Tom."
Tom's face burned as he tried to find the shells. "As if you're a better cook!"
he snapped.
"Here, let me help you," Harry offered, still laughing.
"You'll only make it worse!" Tom argued, playfully slapping Harry's hand away
from the eggs.
"At least I know the difference between shell and yolk!" Harry pointed out
teasingly. He grabbed another egg and broke it neatly. Tom pouted.
He watched Harry stir up the eggs before he bent down and said, "You'll make a
fine woman some day, little Potter."
Harry shot him a dirty look; Tom took the chance to land another kiss on his
lips.
"You snake!" Harry laughed, lightheartedly hitting Tom.
"You're going to drop the eggs!" Tom shouted, tipping the bowl backwards before
it spilled onto the floor.
"Thanks," Harry said as he turned on the stove and poured the eggs in the
frying pan, pretending that he wasn't affected by Tom standing so close to him
that their bodies touched.
Tom slowly wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, lowering his head until his
chin rested on Harry's head. He could see a trace of the smile on Harry's face.
So this is the same love that his father felt for his mother, Tom thought,
watching Harry's hands as they worked on their breakfast. But Harry is a boy;
can I feel this love for another boy? Is this also the same kind of love my
mother felt for my father? Tom raised his head and pulled away from Harry,
confused.
"Harry, do you think my mother felt this emotion?" Tom asked.
"Yes, she did," Harry said.
"Although my father did not love her back?"
"Sometimes love does not go both ways, Tom."
Tom frowned. "I think I'm starting to understand the pain my mother must have
gone through after my father left her."
Harry turned around. "What do you mean?"
"What if you did not feel the same way about me?" Tom asked.
Harry turned back to the eggs. "Well, let's imagine that for a second. How
would you feel?"
"Hurt," Tom said. "The same kind of pain I felt yesterday when I thought you
did not want to be with me anymore." He took a step backwards. "I think...I
would even have killed you if it were possible."
Harry smiled, unsurprised by Tom's answer. "Yes, you are the kind to kill
someone who has hurt you," he said, tilting the frying pan over a large plate.
"Just like what you did to your father."
"How would you feel if I did not feel the same way?"
"I would be very sad," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I can
imagine the pain vividly, having been denied love all my life. But I would move
on." He set the plate down on the table and settled down. Tom sat next to him.
"I keep thinking," Tom said, "what if I had killed you in the Chamber and then
began to feel this way many years later on. It must be maddening to feel this
love but not to have the person you love next to you."
Harry smiled sadly. "I understand the feeling," he said. "I was never held or
shown any love in my life, yet I was always full of love inside and always
ready to give love to anyone who showed kindness to me. That's the problem with
me, Tom. I'm in love with love, but up until I met Hagrid, I never had a
friend."
"I don't want to hurt you," Tom said, still looking confused and a little
scared, "but that's what I would have done if you had rejected me. If you were
still a mortal, I would murder you without a second thought. Doesn't that
frighten you at all?"
"You've had many chances to do that," Harry pointed out calmly. "Don't worry
about it, Tom. Obviously there's something inside you that's not allowing you
to hurt me." Tom, however, still looked unconvinced. After a long stretch of
silence, Harry added, "If you did have a chance to kill me, would you do it
gently?"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Tom quickly replied. Harry patted
his hand sympathetically.
"So, what's going to be our lesson today, Professor Riddle?" Harry asked.
"We're going to take this day off," Tom announced. "I really want to make it up
to you. I want us to take the day off and just spend it together."
Harry cocked his head to one side. "Are you asking me on a date?" he asked,
smiling deviously.
"Is that what I just did?" Tom asked, raising his eyebrows.
"It sounds like something I heard in Hogwarts last year," Harry said, grinning.
Tom chuckled. "It certainly went more smoothly than what Avery used to try when
he asked a lady out. Once he ended up stumbling down three flights of stairs
and breaking a tooth." His eyes widened. "Harry, the feelings I have for
you...you said it's the same kind of love that your parents had for each
other."
"Yes," Harry said.
"But you're a boy," Tom pointed out. "This love…shouldn't it only be between a
man and a woman?"
Harry shrugged. "There are more boys out there who like other boys."
"Did you ever see anyone like that before?"
"No, not really," Harry confessed. "But I know we’re not the only ones. You're
asking someone who had his first kiss just last night. This side of love is new
to me as much as it is to you." He smiled. "All I know is that I like this
feeling."
"We kissed...just like a married couple would," Tom said, still in
contemplation. "But we can't have a child together."
"Sorry I didn't come with a womb," Harry said a little bitterly. "It wasn't my
decision, and I'm not going to change myself because of you."
"I'm not blaming you for anything," Tom said quickly. He sighed. "This entire
subject...it's boggling my mind."
"Since when did love make sense?" Harry asked, taking a sip of orange juice.
"Look at your friend Avery. Was he ever sensible whenever he had a crush?"
Tom laughed.
When they were done, Tom made straight for the front door.
"You're staying here," he said when Harry followed him.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"I want it to be a surprise," Tom said. His eyes were lighted energetically. "I
want us to have a good time today."
"Ah, that romantic date you're planning," Harry said, smirking. "Just please
don't get me a shrunken head for a present. I don't find that romantic."
"I won't," Tom promised, smiling. Their eyes locked for a few seconds. Harry
ran up and gave Tom a quick hug before Tom left the manor.
                                      ***
Once the door closed, Harry sighed and his face fell. He flopped down on the
closest sofa, one hand resting on his chest.
I'm in love, Harry thought in shock, his eyes darting around the ceiling and
his heart beating quickly. I think I'm in love. Why else would I have kissed
him? Only people in love kiss each other. So, I really am in love...but how did
this happen? Should I even be falling in love with someone like him? He's an
awful person most of the time, but...I love him, every part of him...
Harry sprung up from the couch. He wanted to write a letter to Ron and
Hermione, to tell them that everything was fine. He wanted to write to them
about Tom, but he knew that it would annoy Ron.
You think about him too much, Ron had said.
What would Ron think? Harry wondered a little guiltily. Tom killed Ron's
sister...but...that was back then. I think Tom is changing; he won't kill any
more people now that I’ve taught him about love. He smiled at his reasoning.
I must have been slowly falling for him all this time, Harry thought. I didn't
even know what was happening until he kissed me. He picked up a quill and
parchment. Should I tell them that I kissed him? He was as nervous and confused
about this emotion as Tom was. He was also angry at himself for not having good
answers ready for Tom's many questions.
I'm sorry, Tom, Harry thought. This is new for me as much as it is for you.
We'll have to learn about this together. A new thought struck fear in him. What
if I end up hurting him? We're so excited over this, both of us, but what if he
ends up getting hurt the same way his mother was? I don't want to hurt him, but
what if I do something stupid and I end up hurting him? He stared at the quill
and parchment until the image became blurry.
"Tom," Harry said out loud, blinking, the quill just a notch away from the
parchment. "Tom..." Harry sighed. I love the sound of his name, even though he
hates it.
Harry wrote I love Tom in the air above the parchment and sighed again. He set
the quill and parchment aside, too anxious to write. For the first time in his
life, Harry was just as lost on the matter of love as Tom was. I have to be
strong for Tom. I don't want to disappoint him.
He got up from the desk and made his way to the shower, desperately needing to
clear his mind.
                                      ***
"I'm sorry, master," Wormtail said. "I did not get the chance to see your
younger self in person. However, I have listened to the story the Weasley boy
and the Mudblood girl told his parents."
"Tell me what it is you heard," Lord Voldemort commanded. Wormtail told him all
about their visit, and by the end, Voldemort looked more confused. "My younger
self leaves the Potter boy alone for hours with his friends? He lets Potter's
Mudblood friend leave the house alive?" He tapped his fingers on his wand.
What's going on in there? he wondered angrily.
"Wormtail, I want you to send for me a couple of more of my servants," he said.
"Just because my younger self apparently does not seem interested in helping
me, it should not stop me from enacting my plan..."
                                      ***
When Tom came back, Harry's heart leapt with relief. His thoughts had been
torturing him ever since Tom left, and the shower had done nothing to calm his
nerves.
"I missed you!" Harry said, giving him a quick hug.
"Why did you miss me?" Tom asked, surprised.
"I just...wanted to see you," Harry said. They looked at each awkwardly for a
moment before Tom nodded.
"I understand," he said. Smiling, he added, "You're just as helpless as I am
right now."
"I'm sorry, Tom," Harry said. "I want to help you with this, to make you
understand everything, but it's something new for me too."
"I like watching you all lost, confused, and pathetic like a puppy thrown out
into the rain," Tom teased.
"I'm not pathetic!" Harry argued, playfully hitting Tom on the shoulder. "What
did you get?" he asked.
"I'm not telling you," Tom said playfully, pushing the bags away from Harry
with one hand while the other stopped Harry from getting nearer.
"Tell me!"
"No!"
Harry gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Tell me."
"Later, I promise," Tom said, tapping Harry's nose with a finger. He quickly
put everything in the refrigerator before turning back to Harry.
"It's not a shrunken head, is it?" Harry asked.
"No, just pickled frog hearts," Tom teased him. "Let's take a walk outside," he
suggested after a while.
"All right," Harry said. He became aware that he took a couple steps closer
towards Tom. Their fingers brushed against each other. Smiling shyly, he took
Tom's hands in his own.
                                      ***
Harry's nervousness disappeared as the two of them strolled around the forest.
They alternated between small conversations and just walking in tranquil
silence, enjoying the springtime weather. They found a comfortable spot near a
river, and they settled there.
"Many times today I've wondered how this happened," Tom started after a while.
"I didn't realize what kind of love I had for you until this morning. If you
asked me about how I felt about you a few days ago, I would have said that you
were a close friend to me."
"That's how I would have answered the question too," Harry said.
"What's the difference between this kind of love and friendship?"
"I...don't know, Tom," Harry said.
"How do you feel about me? You have other friends to compare me to."
"I care for all of you," Harry said. "Honestly, there's no big difference in
the way I feel about you and all of my friends...except our friendship is very
intimate. You've seen parts of my past Ron and Hermione may never see."
"Then how can one differentiate between friendship and this love?" Tom asked,
confused.
Harry laughed. "I don't know, Tom!" He rested his head on Tom's shoulder. "You
look tired."
"I've been up all night trying to make sense of my actions," he said, smiling.
"I didn't sleep at all last night either," Harry said. Tom lowered himself on
the ground, taking Harry down with him. They both looked up at the passing
clouds, then at each other. They shared a smile. Harry rested his head again on
Tom's shoulder, and before Tom knew it, Harry was asleep.
"I...love...you," Tom whispered the words so low only he could hear them. He
repeated the words again, digesting the meaning of every word, fearing and
enjoying the meanings of each at once.
Tom didn't know when he fell asleep, but he was glad to have awakened in time
to see the sun descending over the horizon.
"Harry," Tom said, gently shaking him awake. "We've slept through the
afternoon!"
"Uh?" Harry moaned as he sat up. He yawned. "It's sunrise!"
"It's sunset, idiot," Tom said. His stomach grumbled. "Come on, we need to head
back home. We missed lunch."
"Is that all you ever think about?" Harry laughed. "I'm surprised you're not
bigger than Dudley." At that moment, his stomach grumbled too.
"What were you saying, Cousin of Dudley?" Tom teased.
"Shut up!" Harry said, laughing. He sprung to his feet and ran; Tom chased
after him, but he was not as fast.
"Come back here!" he called out.
Harry laughed, but then he tripped over a tree trunk. Before he could stop
himself, Tom tripped and fell on Harry.
"Got you!" Tom yelled. He ran his fingers all over Harry, tickling him
mercilessly. Harry wrestled with him, his laughter ringing throughout the
forest.
"Ow! You're crushing my liver! Stop!" Harry begged, tears of mirth running down
his cheeks. Tom finally let go, but before Harry could stand up, Tom picked him
off the ground and swung him over his shoulder.
"Put me down!" Harry ordered Tom.
"Never," Tom said. "I'm never letting you go, little Potter." He gave him a
playful slap on the bottom. "Let's go home now before I decide to have your
crushed liver for dinner, shall we?"
As much as Harry enjoyed teasing Tom throughout the entire trip back home, he
was happy to be back on his feet once they reached the front door. He blew a
raspberry at Tom before entering.
"Saucy brat!" Tom called out, laughing. He looked up at the sky before going
in. There's going to be a storm tonight, he thought.
He followed Harry into the kitchen, and moving quickly before Harry could go
near the refrigerator, he stood before it, blocking the door. Harry's eyes
narrowed, a look of curiosity on his face.
"So, what are we having for dinner?" Harry asked, looking through the cabinets.
"Anything you can cook without burning down the manor in the process," Tom
said, smirking.
Harry shot him a look. "Then let's make pasta," he said, pulling out a package
of spaghetti. "Will you give me a hand here? And peel some garlic for me, will
you?"
Tom's jaw dropped slightly. "Garlic? You want to eat garlic?"
"Yeah, why not?" Harry asked. "It's part of the dish."
"How am I supposed to kiss you afterwards?"
"Tough luck," Harry said after realizing what Tom meant.
Sighing, Tom fetched a clove of garlic and began to peel it.
They prepared their dinner in silence, occasionally stealing glances at each
other.
"Harry, I have some more questions," Tom finally broke the silence.
"Ask away," Harry said, checking up on the spaghetti in the pot.
"I was thinking of one of my school friends, Avery," Tom said. "He always acted
odd whenever he fancied a witch, which was every other week actually."
"You mean he acted odder than usual?" Harry asked. "What were some of the
things he used to do?"
"He wrote some of the most nauseating poetry I ever encountered in my life,"
Tom explained. "He would sit in class as though under a trance, and drool would
be dripping down his collar."
Harry laughed. "There are many kinds of romantic love then, I guess," Harry
said. "I for one would never write a crappy love poem about you - oh, wait, I
just thought of a brilliant one." Grinning, he turned around and circled Tom.
"My tall, dark, handsome lover, your beauty and deliciousness far surpasses
that of a large chocolate cake topped with fudge and cherries."
"Deliciousness?" Tom repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Every time I see your shining face, my heart fills with warm blood and dances
the waltz with all my arteries," Harry continued, barely constraining laughter.
"Angels must have sculpted your body with milk and snake venom..."
"Enough with the purple prose!" Tom said, pushing Harry away. Harry bounced
back and fell into Tom's arms, both guffawing.
"I think our dinner's done," Harry said, his face red from the laughter.
"I'll set up the table," Tom offered. He magically sealed the refrigerator door
shut, and he winked at Harry before leaving the kitchen. Harry smiled, excited.
It's going to be an interesting night, he thought.
                                      ***
When Harry entered the dining room, he was greeted by lit candles. Tom had set
out the best silverware in the manor.
"You're really getting into this," Harry commented after setting the large bowl
of pasta down and settling next to Tom.
"I'm recalling everything I've ever seen couples do," Tom explained. "I want
this to be, well..."
"Romantic," Harry said, tracing the design on his fork. "So this is what it
must have been like whenever Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia went on these
dinners." He smiled.
He was too excited and nervous at once to concentrate on his dinner.
"Do you remember the time when we shared food off our plates?" Harry asked,
trying to break the tension.
"Yes, I remember," Tom said. "Back when love was such a mystery to me." He
laughed. "It's still a mystery."
Harry lifted his fork to Tom's lips. Taking the hint, Tom took the fork into
his mouth. He did the same with Harry, and soon the two boys spent the
remainder of the dinner feeding each other.
Harry drew closer to Tom, watching his dark eyes and his mouth. He traced Tom's
mouth with one finger, wishing to taste it. He opened his mouth to kiss him,
but Tom pushed him away.
"Why?" Harry asked. Tom brought his wand to Harry's mouth. After he muttered a
spell, Harry felt a fresh-scented gust of air blow through his mouth. Tom did
the same to himself, then gave Harry a kiss.
"Because I don't like the smell of garlic, that's why," he said.
"You must be a vampire," Harry said teasingly. "Is it time for dessert yet?"
"Yes," Tom said. With his wand, he cleared the table. "Go to the living room,"
he told Harry.
"Why?" Harry asked, grinning mischievously.
"Just do as I tell you," Tom said.
 
Tom brought the two packages with him to the living room. Harry watched Tom
from the couch as he opened the first package and pulled out what appeared to
be a miniature fountain. He set it on the coffee table nearby.
"It's a chocolate fountain!" Harry said when Tom got the small fountain
working.
"Correct," he said. He sat next to Harry and gave him the other package. "I
hope you've saved space for this," he said.
Harry eagerly opened the package, and his jaw dropped at the sight of the
large, richly red strawberries.
"I definitely have enough room for this!" Harry said, grinning. Tom took one of
the strawberries and held it to the chocolate fountain. He brought it up to
Harry's lips, and Harry licked some of the chocolate before taking a big bite.
"What do you think?" Tom asked.
"It's delicious," Harry said after he swallowed.
"More delicious than me?"
Harry laughed. It was Harry's turn to dip a strawberry and bring it up to Tom's
lips. As Tom nibbled on the strawberry, Harry's eyes were glued to a line of
hot chocolate that dribbled down Tom's lips.
Surprising Tom, Harry licked the chocolate off Tom's lips before nibbling on
it. He pressed his lips to Tom's, tasting the chocolate from his lips and
kissing him at once. Tom opened his mouth slightly to allow Harry more space to
eagerly taste and lick.
"Ouch!" Tom pulled away quickly.
"Sorry," Harry said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to bite you!"
Tom rubbed his lower lip gently, smearing a thin line of blood on one finger.
"Are you a vampire and forgot to tell me, Harry?" he asked, a smile creeping on
his face.
Tom dipped another strawberry into the fountain, waiting until it was
completely smothered in hot chocolate before offering it to Harry. Harry opened
his mouth, but instead of slipping the strawberry into his mouth, Tom shook the
chocolate over Harry's head, spraying his face with the warm liquid.
"TOM!" Harry cried out. Tom chortled as he ran the strawberry all over Harry's
face. Harry struggled, but Tom pushed him back until Harry was lying down on
the couch. Abandoning the strawberry, Tom kissed and licked Harry everywhere on
his face while Harry playfully tried to shove him away. Their laughter carried
out of the living room.
"Stop, that tickles!" Harry shrieked. "Ow, don't bite my nose!" His face
flushed from laughter, Tom let go of Harry's face and kissed his neck.
"How'd you get to be so scrumptious, little Potter?" Tom asked in a low, husky
voice. He bit Harry's neck. "I should put you in the oven right now, but not
before I garnish you with honey and pecans."
"No!" Harry yelled, giggling as he tried to push Tom away.
"Oh, would you prefer if I barbequed you? I would greatly enjoy licking the
sauce off your grilled body."
"You sick bastard!" Finally succeeding in pushing Tom off him, Harry sat up.
Tom took one look at him, snorted, and laughed hysterically.
"What are you laughing at?" Harry demanded, but he had a sneaking suspicion he
knew what it was. He ran his hand over on cheek. "Oh, son of a - I'm cleaning
this off!"
"No, you're not!" Tom said, grabbing his shoulders. "I want to see you looking
like this!"
"Let me go!" Harry yelled at him, laughing. He jumped off the couch, but Tom
grabbed his arm and tried to force him back down on the couch. Breaking free
from Tom's hold, Harry ran out the room and up the stairs. He could hear Tom
not far behind.
"No!" Tom yelled when he reached the bathroom too late. "You destroyed the
chocolate-coated Potter!"
"Good riddance!" Harry spat before splashing more water on his face. He felt
Tom enter the bathroom, but Harry couldn't open his eyes from the water still
on his face. He felt Tom inch closer and pat a towel against his cheek.
Smiling, Harry allowed Tom to dry him off, feeling a little tingling feeling
deep in his belly whenever Tom's fingers brushed against his skin.
"Do I look human yet?" Harry asked after a while. He opened his eyes and
checked himself in the mirror.
"My chocolate-frosted Potter is gone," Tom said sadly.
"Now you just have a raw, salty Potter," Harry teased him. He sensed that Tom
was about to touch him again, so he hopped out of the bathroom. Turning around,
he gave Tom a mischievous smile.
"What do we do now?" Harry asked him, playfully avoiding any touches or kisses
from Tom.
"I have an idea," Tom said after a while. "Follow me."
"The bedroom?" Harry questioned, looking confused.
"It's getting late, and..." Tom smirked. He gathered the pillows and blankets,
and to Harry's surprise, he threw them all onto the balcony.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, stepping out to the balcony.
"Well, what does it look like I'm doing?" Tom asked.
"Looks like you're making a bed."
"Exactly."
Harry laughed. "You're making a bed outside?"
"Yes," Tom said. "You find some strange things romantic. I find
this...well...nice."
"You're having trouble saying that you find it romantic," Harry said, smiling.
"Say it, Tom."
Tom sighed. "I find this romantic," he said determinedly. He rolled his eyes.
"That had to be the most ridiculous thing I ever said in my life!"
Harry laughed. "You poor creature," he said before heading back into the
bedroom. As he was kicking off his shoes, Harry heard Tom come in.
"Let me help you," Tom offered as he clasped Harry's robes. He helped Harry out
of his robes, and whenever his fingers ran through his naked skin, Harry felt
the same pleasant sensation in his belly. He looked up at Tom, and both shared
a smile.
After Harry got into his night robes, he helped Tom out of his robes. A blush
burned on Harry's cheeks whenever he touched Tom's body. A part of him wanted
to keep his hand on Tom's naked waist, to feel Tom's stomach, but another part
of him felt too shy and embarrassed. Tom had a small smile on his face the
entire time.
He must be enjoying the feeling as much as me, Harry thought, smiling.
Once Harry was done, Tom pulled him close. The kiss was rougher this time;
Harry could hear Tom's heart pounding in his ears. When he finally pulled away,
Tom led Harry to their bed on the balcony. Harry settled down, Tom right across
from him.
Tom waved his wand around them and muttered, "Impervius."
"What's that spell for?" Harry asked.
"Just in case," Tom said, putting the wand in a safe place. He snuggled under
the blankets alongside Harry.
"It's going to feel different sleeping side by side from now on," Harry said
after a while.
"How?" Tom asked. Harry shrugged. "Is it because we kissed?"
"I guess so," Harry said.
"So from now on, we'll be doing this more," Tom said, and he kissed Harry
again. Harry chuckled.
"You're never going to get tired of this, are you?" he asked.
"How can I when you still taste like a strawberry?" Tom said, and without
warning, he pinned Harry to the ground.
"Not again!" Harry laughed.
"I'm being careful," Tom said. "See? I'm not crushing any of your internal
organs this time."
"You weigh a ton, Tom! Are you sure you're not magically concealing the way you
really look?"
"I'm quite sure of it, little Potter."
"So if I wave my wand around you, you won't reveal yourself to be the size of a
hippopotamus?"
"I promise you, I won't." He nibbled on Harry's ear.
Both grew silent. A corner of Harry's night robes pushed upwards, revealing a
naked leg. He ran his leg against the inside of Tom's robes, rubbing against
his leg. He laughed lightly at the surprised look on Tom's handsome face.
"Did you like that?" Harry asked.
"Yes..." Tom said in a quiet voice, his face burning. Harry caressed Tom's
cheeks, looking at him straight in the eye until Tom looked away. He continued
the caresses down Tom's neck and onto his shoulders. Tom moaned softly with
every touch, his cheeks burning and his eyes closed.
Smiling, Harry wondered what was happening to Tom's body. Was he feeling the
same pleasant tingling feeling in his belly? Harry gently touched Tom's chest
with both hands, but suddenly feeling too shy, he did not explore another
further past Tom's lowest rib.
He caught Tom's eyes again and smiled. It was Tom's turn to gently caress
Harry's cheeks and chest. He spread soft, quick kisses over Harry's face and
neck as one hand drew circles down his back. Harry closed his eyes and softly
sighed at the sensation he received with every touch.
Their mouths met once more, and they kissed each other hungrily as Tom's hands
explored Harry's body. The kissed last for a long time, and as the time passed,
Harry absentmindedly rocked his body underneath Tom's, rubbing his body against
him...
Gasping suddenly, he pushed Tom away. An intense sensation had arose somewhere
between Harry's legs, something he had never felt before.
"What's wrong?" Tom asked.
"N...nothing," Harry said, blushing profusely. He turned sideways. "I'm just
getting tired, that's all."
                                      ***
Tom raised an eyebrow, but he settled next to Harry, respecting his wishes. He
wondered what happened to Harry to make him suddenly push away like that.
You're a mystery sometimes, Harry, Tom thought as he observed his friend.
Harry's attention was focused on the cloudy night sky.
Was I really just kissing him moment ago? Tom began to wonder, feeling awe at
the reality of the day. He had kissed Harry...Harry had hugged him, kissed him,
laughed with him...
"Beautiful," Tom sighed, his eyes wide.
"Hmm?" Harry turned around to look at him. "What did you say?"
"It's...you're going to think I'm crazy."
"No, go on."
"I just realized that you and everything today is...real," Tom said, looking
amazed. "It's not a dream. It's not an illusion. I'm really am feeling this,
doing this. Your love for me...it's real. It really exists. I was just thinking
of how stunning all this is, this beautiful reality."
Harry smiled and took Tom's hand. "Do you like this feeling, Tom? Do you like
to feel love?"
"Yes," Tom said, still looking dazed. "It's not going to change tomorrow, is
it?"
"Of course not," Harry said, laughing a little. "Tom, I -" A clap of
lightening, closely followed by a rumble of thunder, stole his attention.
Looking up, Harry watched as rain poured down, but not a single drop of rain
touched them. Amazed, Harry searched Tom's face.
"The spell I did earlier was in preparation for this," Tom explained. "Do you
like it?"
"I love it!" Harry said, beaming. He stared up at the sky, watching the rain
fall on top and around them. Tom slipped Harry's glasses off and set them
safely inside the bedroom. He wrapped his arms around Harry, and Harry rested
his head on Tom's shoulder.
In silence, they stayed in this position, waiting for sleep to take them, both
feeling at peace.
                                      ***
Harry's heart beat excitedly. He could feel his strength return; soon, he would
take corporal form...
He opened his eyes and glanced inside the dim chamber. He stretched out his
arms and took a big breath. He was alive! With every passing second he could
feel life and power returning to him.
He took a couple steps forward to the small figure lying on the ground. A
sickly pale young girl looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Her mouth
fell, about to scream...
Harry bent down and covered her mouth and nose with his long slender hand.
Pressing hard against her face, he watched with satisfaction as she writhed
underneath him, her face turning blue as her body was continually denied
oxygen...sneering, Harry laughed...
                                      ***
Harry jolted awake in a cold sweat.
"G-Ginny," he gasped. He could still see the image in front of him of Ginny
withering and dying...
"Harry?" Tom propped himself up on one elbow and reached for Harry's hand.
"Don't touch me!" Harry snapped, pulling his hand away. "You enjoyed doing
that...you didn't mind killing her that way..."
"Of course I did not mind," Tom said dryly. "She had given me all the strength
I needed to leave the diary. I just had to finish the process."
Harry's jaw dropped. "Didn't you, for one moment at all, hesitate?"
"No," Tom said in a bored voice. "I needed to live; that was all that
mattered."
"I don't believe this!" Harry jumped up and bolted back into the bedroom. He
grabbed his glasses off the floor and headed straight for the bathroom.
"Harry," Tom called out, walking back into the room.
"Don't speak to me!" Harry yelled, slamming the door.
"Are you going to stay there all night?"
"No," Harry said although he wasn't sure what he was going to do. "Just...leave
me alone."
Minutes passed, and Harry heard no more from Tom. He sat down on the edge of
the bathtub, his face buried in his hands.
I shouldn't be surprised Harry thought, I've always known that Tom was a
murderer, but...
An ill feeling rose in his stomach. He had felt Tom's emotions, his joy and
satisfaction as he, without a drop of remorse, took away a young girl's life...
***** Chapter Eleven - Douglas Avery's Final Words *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                Chapter Eleven
                          Douglas Avery's Final Words
                                        
                          I want to kiss you but your
                           Lips are venomous poison
                          - "Poison" by Alice Cooper
                                     *****
While Nagini lay curled on the ground, she felt two humans enter the room. She
raised her head and watched the two wizards approach her master. One was the
fat human Wormtail, but the other human was a male she had never seen before.
He was tall and emaciated, grey-haired and gaunt-faced.
"Augustus Rookwood," Lord Voldemort said. Nagini rested her head back on her
body, losing interest. She never understood a word the humans ever said.
"Master," Rookwood gasped, falling on his knees. He kissed a corner of the
blankets that were wrapped around his lord. "Thank you!" He looked up at Lord
Voldemort's face. "What has become of you?"
"This tale I will tell you later," Lord Voldemort said coldly. "I take it you
and Wormtail were able to escape Azkaban without any trouble?"
"Yes!" Rookwood said, laughing hoarsely. "Clever plan, my lord, to curse a
Muggle to look like myself and to have him take my place! The Dementors do not
know what has happened!"
"The Dementors will return to our side shortly," Lord Voldemort explained, "but
in the meantime I don't want attention drawn to your missing cell. Did you
bring what I requested from you?"
"Yes, yes," Rookwood said. "It was very easy to sneak in. No one was guarding
the entrance tonight; people rarely break in, since it takes special knowledge
to find what one seeks there. But of course, I know my way around the
Department of Mysteries!" Chuckling, he sat up straight and pulled out a small
glowing ball from his pockets.
Nagini raised her head again, observing the white orb. What a strange egg, she
thought.
"It took me a couple of hours to extract the prophecy," Rookwood continued. "I
was very lucky no one else was in the Department; I was able to take my time.
You see, prophecies cannot be touched by anyone other than the people they
relate to, and replicating them is a delicate procedure. I was able to extract
it into this." He settled the orb in front of his master.
"You have done well, Rookwood," Lord Voldemort said. "Your deed will be
rewarded."
Nagini watched as her lord tapped the glowing egg with his wand. It cracked and
spilt open. Misty light shined from the inside, and a voice followed, a high,
hoarse voice spoke in their human tongue...
When the talking stopped, Nagini slithered closer to the couch where her master
sat, wondering what had just happened...
                                      ***
Harry awoke in the bathtub, grinning. A feeling of immense happiness was in his
stomach.
Why am I happy? Harry wondered as he shook the feeling off. There's no reason
to be feeling this way. He turned over and went back to sleep...
                                      ***
"Good morning," Harry greeted Tom flatly the next morning. Tom stared at Harry
for a few minutes before taking a seat across from him. Harry looked as though
he hadn't slept one minute after his dream last night.
"Were you up since the early morning making breakfast?" Tom asked, trying to
smile. "This is the best you've ever made pancakes."
"I needed time to think," Harry responded before falling quiet.
Tom just stared at Harry, not touching his plate. His eyes skimmed over Harry's
tried features, his slightly trembling lower lip, and his tired, unfocused
eyes. "Would you like to sleep right now?" he asked. "I'll heat up your
breakfast when you wake up."
"No," Harry said simply. He met Tom's eyes. "I want to move to another
bedroom."
"Move?" Tom asked, trying not to look shocked.
"Why not?" Harry said, smiling faintly. "I have so much stuff here that it's
cluttering the room. I need to get my own space."
"You can put your belongings in one of the guestrooms and sleep in our room,"
Tom suggested.
"No," Harry said firmly. "I need my own room, Tom. I cannot keep taking space
in your room."
Since when was it just my room? Tom wondered, feeling hurt. No matter how much
he argued with Harry that morning, he still found himself helping Harry as he
hoisted his trunk into the guest room where Hermione had stayed.
It has something to do with the dream, doesn't it? Tom thought while he stood
near the doorway, watching Harry unpack his trunk and lay out his photo album
and books on the new shelves. The smile on Harry's face pained Tom. Was
yesterday all a dream? he wondered.
Harry looked up at him, and his small smile faded.
"I like this room," he said simply, not meeting eye contact with Tom.
"Good," Tom replied flatly. They starred in different directions. "You have a
lesson today in one hour."
"Can it be a little later?" Harry asked. "I'm tired." Noticing the upset look
on Tom's face, Harry quickly said, "Fine, I'll be ready then," in an annoyed
voice. He shut the door.
Feeling dizzied from confusion, Tom made his way down the staircase. He passed
the spot where he and Harry shared their first kiss; a shiver ran down his
body. That day seemed like it had happened years ago. When he entered the
library, Tom sat on one of the coaches. His mind was too jumbled with thoughts
of what to teach Harry next that he did not look at the old couple in the
painting.
                                      ***
Aderyn examined the young boys curiously. Something had happened between them,
she was sure of it. Neither spoke much to each other as they went about their
lesson; both boys had frowns on their faces, and they kept eye contact to a
minimum.
Did a fight occur between them? Aderyn wondered. She always loved to watch them
fight, but this one was different. Harry would usually scream his lungs out
while Tom threatened to decapitate him. However, this fight was silent and
cold. The more Aderyn observed the boys, the more she began to wish they would
start shrieking at each other. The silence in the room was maddening.
                                      ***
The moment the lesson was over, before Tom could say anything to Harry not
related to their study session, Harry whizzed straight to his new room, shut
the door, and fell asleep. Gaping slightly, Tom stared at the open door. He had
never felt more alone before in the library.
"What happened between you?" Aderyn asked. Tom didn't pay attention; he kept
staring at the doorway. When she asked the question again, Tom left the room,
never looking back at them. He heard Grindelwald whisper something to his wife,
but he did not bother to try to catch the words.
He settled down in the living room. Not to far from him was the television set
Harry had bought a few months ago. Over time, he bought more of the strange
gadgets called videocassettes, and they lay scattered next to the television.
"I always wanted to see this!" Harry would say whenever he found a movie he was
denied while living with his relatives.
He hasn’t had a chance to watch any of them yet, Tom thought, studying the
titles. He wondered if he could lure Harry out of his room with the movies, but
he decided against it. Knowing Harry, he'll stubbornly take the television into
his room, Tom thought bitterly. Frowning, he eyed the Muggle gadget, wishing he
could dispose of it.
A hooting sound averted his attention. Jarlath had flown into the room.
Smiling, Tom stuck his hand out and stroked the owl's head.
"Where's you lady friend?" he asked Jarlath. "Is she hiding from you too? Is
she with her owner who's just as stubborn and haughty as herself?" He sighed
and shook his head. "What am I doing, taking my frustration out on owls?"
                                      ***
Harry didn't come down for lunch. Tom knocked on his bedroom door, and soft
snores were the only reply. Tom tried to occupy himself with a book, but his
mind kept slipping back to Harry. He leapt from his seat when he finally heard
movement upstairs.
"Harry?" Tom called out, his hand on the doorknob. He heard a clicking sound
inside. "Are you going to come out?"
"I have a lot of homework to do for you," Harry replied unemotionally.
"Forget it!" Tom said. "You've skipped lunch, and you've barely done anything
all day outside. There's still time to go out. Would you like me to take you
anywhere, to the Chimera Café perhaps?"
"No," Harry replied flatly.
"Aren't you hungry? It's almost time for dinner."
"Then leave my plate next to the door."
Tom turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn't open. "Are you sure you don't
want to come out?" Tom pressed on, desperate to get Harry out without having to
resort to force.
"I'm trying to study!" Harry screamed.
Cursing under his breath, Tom kicked the door and stormed down the stairs. How
long is this going to continue? Tom wondered as he attempted to cook a chicken
dinner. It's that little brat's fault! She's been dead for almost a year, yet
she still's still a thorn in my side! He stared at the cold meat in front of
him. Grinning, he raised the butcher knife and slowly cut the chicken,
imagining that it was Ginny's body underneath his hand...
Harry accepted his plate without even giving Tom a glance. Before Tom could
speak, Harry had shut the door, and Tom found himself eating alone in the
dining room with only Jarlath for company.
                                      ***
Tom awoke in the middle of the night and instantly turned around to face Harry,
only to remember that Harry wasn't sleeping in the same room as him anymore.
The empty space next to him seemed strange and terribly lonesome...
I want to talk to him, he thought miserably. He had dreamt about Harry's life
when he six and had received a box of dog biscuits for Christmas. Tom could not
think of any specific questions; he just wanted to talk to him. Maybe he'll
come in right now, he thought, half-hoping. Harry enjoys talking with me.
He waited, but Harry never showed up in the doorway. He turned around on the
bed, giving up. A painful twinge erupted his heart, and closing his eyes, Tom
wished he never knew what love was.
Days passed in similar manner. Tom tried to get Harry to speak to him, and
every night he found himself lying in bed alone with no Harry to talk to. The
bitter and miserable feeling in his heart hurt him greatly.
It never happened, Tom tried to convince himself one night. I never kissed him.
I never kissed Harry... The pain in his heart intensified. I never liked him...
Tom kicked the pillow Harry used to sleep on off the bed and settled himself in
the middle. I never had a friend named Harry...This bed is mine...Harry never
slept on it...
An image of Ginny flashed into his mind, and his face, already streaked with
melancholy, twisted cynically into a terrifying glower. His fingers clenched
the sheets...
                                      ***
Harry would never admit it to Tom, but he missed him terribly. He found it hard
to continually give Tom the cold shoulder every day. Many times he wanted to
exchange just one word with him, but he found himself stuck for what to say.
Every time he remembered what he had seen happen to Ginny in the Chamber, he
wanted to scream at Tom for his heartlessness.
April ended and they were now in the middle of May. The only times he was with
Tom was during their lessons, and in those hours, Harry found himself unable to
look at Tom for even a moment.
It's been about one year since I came to the manor, Harry thought as he looked
outside from his bedroom window, observing the luscious, bright green trees and
flowers surrounding the building, but it feels like I've been here for many
years. So much has changed...how would I have felt about Tom if things had gone
differently that day?
He was thankful for having a bathroom in his room; any excuse not to be out of
the bedroom was fine by him. Mealtimes were another issue. Harry couldn't
always use the excuse of having too much homework to do. He also couldn't lie
about not feeling well, especially not when he had already told Tom that he
rarely fell ill.
I wish I could kiss him again, but how can I touch him while recalling the
murder he has committed?
Harry could hear the desperation in Tom's voice as he tried to get Harry to
come out of his room every night.
I should speak to him, Harry thought, wishing he could be with Tom again. I
really should. But what can I say to him? How can I make him realize what he
has done?
                                      ***
While Tom sat in a comfortable spot in the living room one afternoon, buried
deep in a book, he heard the upstairs doorknob turn. He raised his head and
listened as Harry descended the stairs.
I can't believe it, he thought, Harry's leaving his room! He tossed the book
aside and followed the direction Harry's footsteps were taking.
"What are you doing?" Tom asked when he found Harry. He was looking through
mops and other cleaning supplies in a small storage room.
"Tom!" Harry gasped, startled. He looked flustered. "I have to clean the
bathroom...the toilet overflowed."
"I see..." Tom replied, smirking. "Would you like me to help you?"
"NO!" Harry screamed, his face burning. "Er, I mean...I really don't want you
to see...I don't want you to see it."
"I get it now," Tom said, enjoying this. "Your depository check was denied."
"That's not funny, Tom!" Harry yelled angrily. He stormed up to his room with a
bucket and mop. Tom followed him.
"If you use the bathroom not to far from here, you won't be faced with such
foul troubles," Tom said, still smirking as he stood in the doorway.
"Thanks for the offer," Harry's voice carried out from the bathroom, "but I
like it here."
"You don't mind cleaning up after yourself every time you use the bathroom?"
Tom laughed. "Who's room was this before you took it?"
"Hermione's."
"That explains it," Tom said. "Her thick bushy hair clogged your toilet."
"Don't make fun of my friend!" Harry warned. "I don't get it; the toilet was
working perfectly fine until now..."
When Harry was done cleaning, he came into view. His eyes landed on Tom, and he
quickly broke eye contact.
"Done," he said. "I need to take a shower."
"Take one in our bathroom," Tom insisted.
"I really shouldn't..."
"Why not?" Tom asked, firing up. "Stop the silliness this instant! We're
already in plain view of each other. There's no point in hiding from me now."
"Okay," Harry finally said bitterly. "Let me put this back first." He indicated
to the mop and bucket.
Tom waited patiently. Once he heard the bathroom door close, he slipped into
Harry's bedroom and pulled out his wand...
                                      ***
"What did you do to all of my stuff!" Harry demanded, looking enraged. He was
still in his bathrobe. "Why can't I get into my room?"
"I moved all of your belongings here," Tom explained calmly. "This is your
room. I should have done this earlier. I only allowed you to go to a different
room because I felt you needed a little time alone, but this has gone on too
long."
"Too long?" Harry repeated angrily.
"Ginny's been dead for a year! Get over it!" Tom snapped, jumping to his feet.
"Get over it? I can't believe you just said that! You killed a little girl! How
can anyone get over that?"
"I would kill her again if that little bitch was in front of me -"
"Don't call her names!" Harry screamed. Tom pointed his wand between Harry's
eyes; Harry took a step closer, not afraid by Tom's unspoken threat. "Don't you
ever think about what you had done?" he asked. "You killed her. You laughed as
you watched her die!"
"It was either her or I who was going to survive," Tom said in a dangerously
low voice, his eyes narrowed.
"Couldn't both of you have lived somehow?" Harry asked desperately.
"And how would I have done that?" Tom challenged.
"I don't know!" Harry shouted. "Maybe you both could have shared the life force
or whatever it was you took from her!"
"Oh, a lovely idea!" Tom said sarcastically, sneering. "Little girl, you don't
mind lending me a pint of life, will you? I'm running a little low."
"Don't laugh!" Harry yelled at him. "Can't you understand what you've done?"
"I will never regret killing her!" Tom shouted angrily. "For many months, the
brat annoyed me with her endless stories of woe and despair!"
"She's just a little girl! She needed to share her problems with someone!"
"Would you enjoy hearing her silly problems?" Tom demanded angrily. "Every
evening it was the same pointless fears about how she had to go to school with
second-hand robes or how her brothers always tease her!" His eyes flashed red.
"And, of course, her endless worries about how she never thought that you would
ever like her..." His mouth stretched into a thin line, and his grip around his
wand tightened.
Harry took a step back, looking at Tom strangely. "Are you afraid that if Ginny
survived, I would grow to love her?" he asked. Tom blinked. "You're jealous,
Tom..."
"Well...would you have?" Tom asked, his voice low again.
"Honestly, I don't know," Harry replied. "There's no way of telling how
everything would have turned out if things went differently in the Chamber." He
frowned. "I might have killed you that day..." He sighed. "I wish you and Ginny
had both lived."
"That wouldn't have been possible," Tom said bitterly.
"There must have been a way, I'm sure!" Harry said sadly.
"You cannot erase what happened in the past! Forget her!" Tom shouted,
frustrated.
"I can't!" Harry screamed. "I can’t forget what I saw you do to her!"
"Do you want to visit her grave then?" Tom demanded angrily. "Will that take
her off your mind? Would you like me to bury you next to her since you
obviously like her so much?!"
"No!" Harry said. "I don't want to be buried next to her! You're being
ridiculous! I just...I don't know!" He threw himself down on the bed. "This is
too confusing for me..." he said in a barely a whisper. Tom watched him
closely. "I cannot forget the look on her face as she suffocated to death,
but..." He sighed and looked up at Tom. Tom understood what he was going to
say. A smug smile flitted across his handsome face; even after witnessing
Ginny's murder, Harry still liked him. "Where are my clothes?"
Silently Tom handed him something to wear, and Harry dressed, not bothering to
tell Tom to look away. He still looked miserable when he was done.
"Would you like me to take you anywhere?" Tom offered.
"No," Harry said, settling back down on the bed. He got up after a few moments.
"I'll look for something to eat," he said.
"Let me take you somewhere."
"No!" Harry said sharply. "No thanks," he said in a kinder voice before leaving
the bedroom.
                                      ***
To Tom's delight, Harry warmed up towards him as the days went by. Every night,
he moved a little closer to Tom before drifting off to sleep. One night he was
awoken by Harry's gentle voice, waking him, needing to speak to him...Tom
smiled; they were back to how things had been.
A fortnight after Harry returned to sleeping in their room, he gave Tom a soft
kiss on his cheek before rolling over in bed. Tom returned the kiss and wrapped
his arms around Harry. He held Harry tightly, not wanting anything or anyone to
let him slip from his arms again.
The following morning, Harry was distant once more. He had just received a
letter from Ron detailing his family's visit to Ginny's grave; it was the
anniversary of her death. Tom wanted to kill the Weasley brat for the unwelcome
reminder, but he remained calm and patient, determined to get Harry back in his
arms.
In the days that followed, Harry fluctuated from being open and responding to
Tom's hugs and kisses to being unresponsive to even a greeting. None of this
affected Tom. He was going to gain Harry and make him forget about Ginny.
One night, when Harry was responsive to Tom's kisses, he teased Harry's ears
with his tongue while tickling him all over his sides.
"Stop it, Tom," Harry laughed. Tom playfully bit his neck and wrestled him on
the bed, pinning him hard to the mattress. Harry's laughter at the mock fight
sent shivers through Tom's body. How he loved that laughter!
Their little game seemed to have brightened Harry up. The next morning, he
spoke more with Tom. It seemed like things were going back to how they should
have been all along, although there was still the occasional moment when Harry
fell silent.
Tom had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed talking with Harry at night.
However, recently their discussions were laced with kisses and soft caresses.
"What's wrong, Tom?" Harry asked one night after Tom gasped and pulled back.
"I..." Tom's voice grew silent. His face flushed at the sensation that was
burning between his legs. "I...almost forgot to take a shower tonight, that's
all." He left before Harry could ask him another question.
Slipping into the bathroom, Tom pulled off his robes. He examined himself in
the full-length mirror, staring at his genitals. It was not the first time his
body was in this state, but the feeling this time was more intense, and it was
all because he was kissing Harry...
Tom stepped into the shower and turned the faucet on. While he showered, his
mind wandered back to Harry on the bed. He imagined he was kissing Harry,
caressing him, taking off his night robes...he so caught up in his fantasy that
he wasn't aware of where his hands slid down to...
He gave a little gasp of pleasure at the touch. Somewhere in the back of his
mind, he told himself he should stop; proper wizards were not supposed to do
this...but his fantasy had taken over. He could vividly see Harry in front of
him, completely nude on the bed, smiling up at him seductively. Tom knew what
Harry looked like...he had seen him naked their first evening in Grindelwald's
manor.
He recalled that night into his mind, focusing on the sensitive flesh between
Harry's legs.
Harry...
In his mind's eye, Harry was approaching him in the bathroom, looking intently
at him with those piercing eyes. The water droplets running down Tom's chest
and stomach were Harry's trail of kisses. His hand was Harry's soft hands,
working him fast into a sea of ecstasy.
Harry...
Tom's stepped back until his back hit the wall, and he slid down, completely
spellbound in his fiery fantasies and sensations. His eyes barely registered
the images before him. He was back in their room, kissing Harry fervently and
touching him the same way he was stroking himself...
His body shuddered. He gasped as his body went into spasms; for one second, all
thought and the ability to see left him...the sensation was more pleasurable
than the other times he had done this. In his mind's eye, Harry smiled at him,
satisfied.
"Harry..." Tom moaned in a quiet voice, smiling. That's why this feels so
good...it's because I'm thinking of you, isn't it?
His hand rolled over to his side. As his head cleared, Tom's smiled
disappeared. He looked down at himself, terrified. All thoughts of Harry flew
out of his mind.
What have I done? he chastised himself, horrorstruck. What have I done?
                                      ***
Harry smiled faintly at Tom when he returned from his shower, but the smile was
gone when he saw Tom's face.
"What's wrong?" he asked as Tom settled next to him. His face had gone pale,
and his eyes were wide. He didn't look at Harry.
"I have done something that could render me blind," he replied in a tight
voice.
"What?" Harry propped himself on one arm. "What did you do?" Tom didn't answer.
Harry groaned, wondering what Tom did to endanger himself this way. "Don't tell
me you've done something stupid! How are you sure you might become blind?"
"For one moment, I couldn't see anything," Tom explained.
"Why? What does that thing do to you?"
"I'm not sure...I think it stops blood flow to you brain for a few seconds. I
could not see or think."
"Maybe you should stop doing whatever it was you were doing," Harry suggested,
feeling uneasy from what Tom had just described to him.
"Right," Tom said, still not looking at Harry.
                                      ***
Tom awoke during the middle of the night. He and Harry were both sleeping on
their stomachs, their faces facing each other. He squirmed on the bed, watching
his sleeping friend. His eyes traced Harry's features, paying attention to each
individual eyelash and how his soft lips were slightly parted.
To his horror, Tom found himself wanting to touch himself again. He shifted on
the bed and shuddered from the wave of pleasure that arouse.
I shouldn't do this! he thought fearfully. He didn't want to risk his eyesight
again, but at the same time he liked this strange feeling so much...
"Tom?" Harry asked in a quite voice. He had just awoken and was looking up at
Tom with concern. "Are you still worried?"
"Yes," Tom said simply, hoping that Harry will not ask any more questions.
Harry covered Tom's hand that was rested between them with his own. He smiled
up at Tom.
"It's okay," he said. "I'm here. You'll be okay."
Tom continued watching Harry after he had fallen asleep again. His gesture had
comforted him somewhat, but it left Tom feeling guilty about thinking of
wanting to touch Harry. He had to remind himself that Harry was turning
fourteen in one month.
It's hard to believe he's almost fourteen, Tom thought. One moment he's just a
kid, but then the next he seems so wise and mature for his age. He continued to
stare at his sleeping companion. A new question rose in his mind. How much does
Harry understand about sex?
                                      ***
Whenever Harry kissed Tom for a long time, he felt his body reacting in ways
that both excited and frightened him. He was embarrassed to tell Tom what was
happening to his body, so he made sure Tom did not see what was going on while
they kissed before going to bed.
Afterwards, as he waited for sleep to take over, Harry wondered what it would
be like to have Tom touch him there. He enjoyed the feeling, but he didn't
explore any further, partly because he was embarrassed about Tom catching him.
The weather was becoming hotter every day. There were no air conditioners in
the manor, but Harry adapted by stripping down to his underwear. Tom did not
mind this as long as Harry kept to their room; he had to be fully dressed
during lessons and meals.
Tom knew a spell that could make a room colder, but the spell wore off after an
hour, and the cooling spell had to be performed again. One afternoon, after Tom
had gone to take a shower, the spell's effect faded.
Harry groaned; he didn't know how to perform the spell, so he took off his
underwear instead. He lay on the bed on his back, wishing the faint gust of air
could cool his body.
The heat is worse than last year, he thought grumpily. If it doesn't get
better, I'm moving into an ice cream shop!
"Harry!" he heard a gasp. He opened his eyes and saw that Tom had just entered
the room and was looking at him with wide eyes. "What did I tell you about
modesty in this manor?" he chastised angrily. "I don't mind you lying about
without clothes, but I will not tolerate this!"
"Well, sorry!" Harry yelled at him as he quickly sat up and covered a blanket
over his crouch. "Nobody told you to stand there and stare at me!" He blushed.
"You were looking at me," he said accusingly.
"I've already seen you naked before," Tom reminded him. He crossed the room and
turned around to face Harry. "Remember now?"
"Yes, that night when you took away my mortality," Harry said, looking
disturbed. After a while, he continued, "What did you do me back then?"
"I didn't do anything to you," Tom explained calmly. "I commanded you to do
it."
"And you watched?" Harry asked, wondering what Tom commanded him to do.
"I had to collect something from you, what do you expect!" Harry still looked
bothered. Coming to a decision, Tom stepped closer to the bed. "Harry, look at
me," he said.
Harry turned his head just as Tom slipped his bathrobes off his shoulders. Not
able to stop himself, Harry's eyes scanned down Tom's body.
"We're even now," Tom said. A corner of his mouth curled. "There is no need to
be embarrassed, Harry."
"You look a little different than me," Harry said, meeting his eyes.
"You've never seen one of your dormmates nude?"
"No. Why would I pay attention if I need to get dressed?" Harry said. Tom
laughed. Harry pulled away his blanket, exposing himself to Tom. Harry
continued to study Tom's body, his face still burning. "You look...very
handsome," he said after a while.
"Thank you," Tom said. "You're very beautiful yourself, Harry."
Harry laughed. "You're kidding me! How am I beautiful?"
"Still denying your worth, I see," Tom stated, observing Harry's body. Harry
bit his lower lip and began to chuckle. His face turned redder.
"You're..." he pointed down.
It was Tom's turn to chuckle. "I cannot help it...I'm reacting to you, Harry.
Look, it's happening to your body too!"
Harry covered himself with his hands. "This is embarrassing!"
"What's so embarrassing about it?" Tom asked.
"It just is!"
"But isn't this what happens to people who love each other?"
"Yes," Harry replied after a while. Tom drew closer, smiling at him. He bent
down and met Harry's mouth, and Harry tilted back until both were lying on the
bed. They wrapped their arms around each other, but Harry broke the kiss when
the feeling below became too intense.
"Sorry," he said.
"I understand," Tom said as he rolled off Harry. Harry's eyes fell back to
Tom's groin, and his face burned again as the feeling continued to mount. His
hands covered his groin, and he breathed hard. When was the feeling going to
subside? Tom continued to watch him, a look of realization on his face.
"How much do you know about sex?" he asked
"No one ever told me anything about it," Harry confessed. "All I really know is
that that's how we were conceived."
"I know mostly the scientific part of it," Tom said. "I could teach you about
what's happening to your body right now. You probably should loosen your grip
down there. You might hurt yourself." Harry quickly let go. "That doesn’t mean
you have to stop, though." There was nervousness in his voice now. "Would you
like me to...help you?"
Harry didn't respond, but the look on his face was all Tom needed. Harry
settled back on the bed, inviting Tom with his eyes. Tom moved closer to Harry,
stretching his hand out towards Harry's groin. Their eyes locked together; Tom
smiled comfortingly, and Harry returned it, feeling at ease with Tom's hand on
his body.
                                      ***
"I'm sorry," Harry said when he was done.
Tom laughed. "Stop apologizing!" he said, poking Harry's belly with one finger.
He indicated to his hand. "I will just go and wash this off, all right?" Harry
nodded; he sat up after Tom left the room.
Harry smiled contently, waiting for Tom to return. This was the first time he
remembered experiencing a climax. I must return the favor for Tom, he thought
affectionately.
                                      ***
Douglas Avery smiled as he sat in his comfy living room, watching the sun set
and thinking just how good life was. A warm blanket was draped over his bony
legs. Beside him on a small table was a cup of green tea. Next to the tea cup
was a picture frame. It showed a much younger version of himself with a smiling
young woman on his arm; both were wearing wedding robes.
My dear Audrey, he thought, smiling sadly at his late wife. Not a day goes by
without me remembering you. He sighed sadly. She had been murdered by one of
Lord Voldemort's servants after he had refused to join Voldemort.
How much he had changed since he left Hogwarts, Mr. Avery thought darkly.
Behind that angelic face of his was a black heart. I had always sensed it in
him. Though he may have been brilliant, he had strange interests. He was too
obsessed with the Dark Arts. Every day in Hogwarts he discussed Dark magic and
ways to achieve total power and immortality, as if that were even possible! A
smart lad like him should have realized how foolish it was...
"Good evening, Papa," Derek, his son, greeted politely from behind.
"Son," Mr. Avery said. "How was your day, dear boy?"
"It went very fine, Papa," he said sweetly. "Would you like me to lead you to
your bed?"
"Oh, if that's all right with you," Mr. Avery said. Derek offered him his hand,
but once he held his son's hand, Mr. Avery felt a familiar tug.
Before he knew it, he landed in an unfamiliar room; it was darker here than at
his home. Derek took off the ring that functioned as a Portkey from his finger
and threw it aside. He pointed his wand at his father.
"Son? What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Avery demanded.
"Hello, Douglas," a high-pitched voice greeted coldly behind him. He turned
around and met eyes with a strange creature. It looked like a withered baby
with vibrant red eyes.
"Tom!" Mr. Avery said, his body running cold.
"Don't call me by that filthy Muggle name!" Lord Voldemort hissed.
"What do you want with me and my family?"
"I have requested my servant to bring his father to me."
Mr. Avery turned around, looking at his son with shock as everything became
clear to him.
"No..." he moaned. "No, no...not my son! He's bluffing, isn't he, Derek?" Derek
rolled his eyes and pulled his sleeve back, exposing the Dark Mark on his left
forearm. "No!" He turned back around at Lord Voldemort. "How long has my son
been a Death Eater?" he demanded angrily.
"For many years," Lord Voldemort informed him, sneering. "Unlike you, he saw
the bright future of entering my services. But do not fret, dear Douglas. I
will offer you one last chance to join me. You always enjoyed my company when
we were schoolboys."
Mr. Avery's eyes never left Lord Voldemort's. He didn't hold any fear him at
that moment. The filthy bastard had been tearing his family apart for many
years behind his back!
"Join you?" Mr. Avery spat. "I'd much sooner swallow a glass full of dragon
manure than ever think of submitting to you, scum!"
Lord Voldemort hissed loudly and angrily; his eyes flashed dangerously. But Mr.
Avery did not flinch. The anger from all those years began spilling out; his
lower lips quivered. "For many years I regretted knowing you! You were nothing
but trouble! All I wanted was a normal life! You took away my wife! It was out
of spite, wasn't it?"
Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at him. "Go ahead and murder me!" Mr. Avery
screamed frantically. Behind him, Derek's eyebrows rose, looking worried.
"Papa," he started.
"Many years I regretted ever talking to you!" Tears were running down Mr.
Avery's pale face. "You have no idea of the damage you have done to me, to
them! I, Garfield, Marilyn, and Eileen especially held you at such high regard!
What did you give us in return? You've done the same to Garfield Lestrange as
you're doing to me right now!"
"Papa!" Derek tried again, desperate to get his father to calm down.
"I'd much rather be poor Marilyn right now; she died before having to ever see
what you've done in the past twenty years! Not one night passes without me
thinking back to the news of bloodshed caused by you! When is this going to
end, Tom? I cared for you! Why did you do this? I considered you my closest
friend! You had a great potential; why did you choose this path? You're an
enemy to the purebloods as much as to the Muggle-borns!"
"Avada-"
"May you suffer for your every crime!" Mr. Avery shrieked frantically.
"-Kedavra!"
                                      ***
Tom had that dream again. He was chasing Harry through many unfamiliar
corridors in Hogwarts. He could feel Rosier and Prince right behind him, but he
could not see them even if he turned around.
This dream was different from last time. Harry was laughing good-heartedly as
he continually slipped out of Tom's reach. Tom grinned; they were playing a
game.
Harry turned a corner and disappeared. Tom looked around himself. He was
staring at an empty, small, deserted corridor. At that instant, he stopped
sensing his old schoolmates over his shoulder. A chill ran down his spine.
"Harry?" Tom called out. He couldn't hear Harry anymore. Before him was a tiny
dark room. He peeked inside then jumped back when a figure slouched forward.
"Avery?" Tom questioned. He could recognize that hair anywhere! But when Avery
raised his head, Tom did not see a young lad with the goofy innocent grin. It
was an old man, wrinkled, pale, and troubled. Even his hair had changed
appearance in that instance, turning from light brown to grey.
"Terrible boy," Mr. Avery said in a shaky voice. "Look at what you've done to
me and my family!"
"Douglas?" Tom said. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Mr. Avery grew
closer, glaring at Tom with the most hatred Tom had ever seen in anyone's eyes.
"May you suffer for your every crime!" he cursed in a voice that shot immense
pain throughout Tom's body. Douglas took his last breath, his eyes rolled to
the back of his head, and he fell into Tom's arms.
"Douglas!"
Tom awoke at that moment, the pain still lingering. He looked around himself.
He was no longer in the eerie, cold corridor; he was back in bed, lightly
sweating from the heat. Harry slept curled against his body.
He closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep, but the image of his old
friend seemed to have burned in his mind, and Douglas Avery's final words still
echoed in his ears.
                                      ***
Derek let out a little scream as his father crashed onto the floor and did not
move. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to erase the image from his mind. My
service and loyalty to Lord Voldemort far exceeds my loyalty to my father! he
tried to remind himself.
"I smell guilt in the air," Lord Voldemort said.
Derek opened his eyes. "Please, sir, you must understand that this man raised
me. But I do not argue with your decision. If you believe that he is best dead,
then I concur!"
Lord Voldemort chuckled. "Such loyalty. You've done well in my service, Avery.
I have one last request from you."
"I will do anything you command me," Avery said, bowing.
Lord Voldemort turned to the other two Death Eaters in the room. "Wormtail,
Rookwood...take Avery into the lab room, kill him, and put every one of his
organs in jars." Derek's face had gone white.
"What?" he said shakily.
"You have said that you would do anything I request from you," Lord Voldemort
explained in a mockingly caring voice. "I request to have each and every one of
your organs. They could prove to be helpful to me; you will serve me as a
corpse."
Lord Voldemort sneered. He's doing this out of hatred for my father! he thought
anxiously. Wormtail and Rookwood gripped his shoulders.
"You can't do this!" he begged his master. "Give me another task! I don't want
to die! You said we'll all be immortals!"
Lord Voldemort laughed, but he did not respond to Derek's plea. He motioned for
Wormtail and Rookwood to take Avery away.
At that moment, he heard Nagini slither towards him.
                                      ***
"Avada Kedavra!" Nagini raised her head just as an elderly male human fell to
the floor. Her lord had done something with his wand, but Nagini did not know
what it was.
She was about to put her head down again when she smelt the stench coming from
a corpse. Raising her head again, she realized that the smell was coming from
the male human on the floor. He was dead.
She looked up at her lord. His wand had made the human die, but she could not
fathom why. Her lord did not eat the human, and there didn't seem a fight going
on. She waited until the three other humans left the room before she slithered
towards him.
"My lord, why did you kill the male?" she questioned. He was staring at the
corpse with a strange glint in his eyes. For the first time ever, Nagini felt
fear run through her spine. She could now smell something else now, an awful
stench coming from her lord. She sensed something had happened inside him, but
she didn't know what it could be. She had to get away!
Before she could slither away, her lord pointed his wand at her.
"Creo Horcrux."
                                      ***
"I want to go to the Quidditch World Cup with Ron and Hermione," Harry said in
Parseltongue while they walked down the aisle of the vast pet shop. It was late
July, and the boys spent most of their time outside looking at shops and
staying in cool places. Every day they explored a little more of the shops and
buildings around them, occasionally venturing out to other towns to try out new
restaurants. When no one was around, their fingers entwined around each other.
"Why do you want to go?" Tom asked. They only spoke Parseltongue in quiet
voices if they discussed matter pertaining to their world lest a Muggle could
overhear them.
"You know how much I love Quidditch!" Harry said. Tom snorted.
"If you ask me, it's just a waste of time," he said bitterly as Harry observed
a ball python in one of the tanks.
"If you ask me, everything you humans do is a waste of time," the ball python
said. Harry snickered and Tom scowled. Taking his hand, Harry led him to
another part of the pet shop.
"It's not a waste of time," Harry said. "Quidditch is the only sport that
doesn’t require bulging muscles to play...unless if you're a Beater, but that's
not the point. You need to have good coordination and strong strategic skills.
It's almost like chess, but with flying balls and broomsticks. It's the first
sport I was ever good at." He laughed. "Come to think of it, I think I would
still be awful in basketball. My role in Quidditch is just to fly after a
Golden Snitch."
Tom rolled his eyes.
"Give me a good reason why we cannot go," Harry said.
"For one, are you forgetting that the Ministry is still after me?" Tom replied.
"And who are you going to contact? Your Weasley friend could report me!"
"We can get around that," Harry said calmly. "I will write a letter to
Hermione."
"She hates me as well."
"But she knows that it's better if you are with me rather than with the
Ministry." Tom raised an eyebrow. "I'll explain things to her; she'll
understand! And I have an Invisibility Cloak we can use; no one can see us."
Tom stopped in his tracks. "You never told me about an Invisibility Cloak!"
"It was my father's" Harry explained. "What do you think, then?"
"We are not going!" he insisted. "We could be using the time for some other
activity."
"We have aneternityto do other things!" Harry whined.
They passed a cage full of budgerigars. One of the green budgerigars was
viciously biting the cage bars and looking up at them as though inviting them
to play with her.
"Did you know that I am ahead of my classmates?" Harry asked as he played with
the overexcited budgie. "We're in the middle of fourth year material. Of
course, Hermione is familiar with what I'm studying, but I'm still ahead of Ron
and all the others. I think I deserve a reward."
Tom watched him for a long time. A large red parrot was nibbling Tom's ear from
her stand.
"I will bring a book with me," he finally said.
"So we can go?" Harry asked.
Tom nodded. "As long as we use your Invisibility Cloak, and as long as only
Granger knows we're attending." Smiling, Harry walked over to him and kissed
Tom swiftly on the lips.
                                      ***
Nagini never felt more alive in her life. She understood everything that
Wormtail and Rookwood said, and she felt her lord's emotions well up inside
her.
One afternoon, Wormtail ran into the room with some urgent news.
"The Mudblood received a letter," Wormtail informed her lord, panting. "She did
not tell the Weasley boy, but I read the note over her shoulder. The Potter boy
and your younger self will be attending the Quidditch World Cup."
"Under the Minister's nose?" Lord Voldemort questioned.
"The Potter boy said they will be under an Invisibility Cloak," Wormtail added.
"I have seen him use it before, master!"
Lord Voldemort nodded. Down on the floor, Nagini nodded as well. Excitement
washed over her. The Potter brat was going to be right where she could reach
out and snatch him.
Slithering quickly until she was right beside her lord, she raised her head and
listened to Lord Voldemort's plan...
***** Chapter Twelve - The Ambush *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                Chapter Twelve
                                  The Ambush
                                        
                   "If you hate a person, you hate something
                     in him that is part of yourself. What
                 isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us."
                                - Hermann Hesse
                                     *****
Sirius Black did not know how long he had been staying in Azkaban. It was
difficult to keep track of time when days and nights were nothing more than an
endlessly dull hour. He spent most his time lying on the cold hard ground of
the prison cell, his mind swarming with thoughts as grim as his surroundings.
Peter, I never thought it would be Peter. The shock and denial were still
swimming in his chest and stomach. It seemed like not too long ago Peter was
sitting with him and their friends, passing baby Harry around in the circle and
playing with him.
Once in a while, his mind would snap, and Sirius would question if James and
Lily were even dead at all. Everything that had happened that night was so
surreal, so unbelievable...Sirius was sure that James and Lily were still
around. Harry was probably learning his ABCs right now...or maybe he had been a
Hogwarts alumni for many years. Sirius couldn't tell, but he kept reminding
himself of one thing: James and Lily were dead. He was there at Godric's Hollow
after it happened. Harry was parentless.
Sirius tried his best not to think about Harry too much. Any scrap of happiness
was sucked out of him by the Dementors, and Sirius didn't want to feel the pain
of having even the smallest smile snatched from him again. He had suffered
enough. But Sirius had no control over his dreams. Sometimes he dreamt of
holding his baby godson, smiling down at the small and soft boy in his arms. He
would then awake in pain as the Dementors sucked the joy from his dreams.
It was during one of those dreams that he awoke to the sounds of dozens of
prisoners speaking in hushed voices to a visitor.
"What took you so long?"
"We have been waiting for you to come for us!"
"The Dark Lord needed to wait for the right time," the visitor explained.
"Today is the Quidditch World Cup. Most of the wizarding world is focusing
their attention on the event, giving us time to negotiate with the Dementors."
Rookwood, Sirius thought, identifying the voice of the visitor. What was
Rookwood doing out of Azkaban? How did he get out? Sirius stayed in his
position, listening intently.
"Come now," Rookwood said to the prisoners. "The Dark Lord requests your
presence. Soon the Potter boy will be in his grasp. We are to ambush the
Quidditch World Cup after Potter is kidnapped."
"Potter!" A couple of the prisoners hissed and spat. Among them Sirius
recognized his cousin Bellatrix’s voice.
Harry? Sirius thought, shocked. My godson is in trouble! His stomach turned.
He waited until all of the Death Eater prisoners had broken out of their cells
and followed Rookwood outside. Then he got up and concentrated hard on a point
deep in his torso. There was a slight burning and a painful sensation, and his
body twisted and reformed itself until it took on the form of a large black
dog.
There were no Dementors in the corridors; they had already left to join Lord
Voldemort. The only prisoners remaining were soulless criminals; even the ones
who were not originally part of Voldemort's supporters had escaped, eager to
join Voldemort for a chance of freedom. A slight feeling of dread engulfed
Sirius; he hoped he could reach Harry in time.
He ran out of the prison and threw himself into the ocean. He swam his way back
to the mainland, hoping and praying that nothing would happen to his godson.
                                      ***
Nymphadora Tonks took a deep intake of breath.
It's great to be outside! she thought. The past few months had been tough with
her extensive training and final exams for her Auror license. While today was
also a work day, Tonks reminded herself that at least she could get a glimpse
of the game.
"I need this break," Tonks said as she passed one of her colleagues. She tugged
at a strand of her short, spiky hair, half of which was green and the other
half was gold, the colors of the Irish team.
Kingsley Shacklebolt chuckled. "Don't relax just yet," he told her.
"Aurors should always be on the lookout for suspicious activities!" another
Auror said as he passed them. "You never know what evil deeds a Dark witch or
wizard might do on a day like this!"
"As if Dark wizards are hiding around every corner!" Tonks laughed. She walked
over to her station and leaned against the wall, eager for the game to start.
She was going to enjoy today even if she was on duty.
                                      ***
Nymphadora! Sirius thought as he watched his cousin pass. Sirius was still in
his dog form, and he was hiding in the bushes far from the Aurors. There was no
mistaking her; she had just closed her eyes with a pained expression, and her
nose changed from long and thin to small and button-shaped. He remembered
seeing her change her appearance since she was a toddler. How much you've
grown, little Nymphy! How much time has passed?
He raised his head a little. Although he was a dog, he still didn't want to
draw attention to himself. He searched around before lowering his head when he
found no one that resembled his late friend James Potter.
Where could his godson be?
                                      ***
"This is wonderful!" Harry whispered to Tom in Parseltongue as he looked around
him. "I'm so happy we came here!" Tom scowled, but it did nothing to dampen
Harry's spirits.
They were walking in the edge of the forest, observing the crowd gathering for
the Quidditch World Cup. The number attending was overwhelming; they had to
stay in the forest until the match began or they could get discovered. There
didn't seem to be any space to walk in the crowd. Even though the amount of
noise made by the crowd and music was incredibly loud, Tom and Harry spoke in
their own language in order to not risk being overheard.
"Where's Hermione?" Harry wondered as he observed the lines of tents set up. "I
see Dean...there's another person I recognize from Hogwarts...George!" Tom
followed Harry's gaze. George was outside the tent speaking with his father.
"And there's your friend," Tom added as Hermione stepped out.
"I should talk to her, just to tell her that we're here."
"How do you expect to do that?"
Harry looked around. He grabbed Tom's hand and swiftly zigzagged around groups
of wizarding families. It was a risky move, but to the relief of both, they had
reached Hermione.
"Hermione, we're here," Harry whispered to her. Hermione did not move, but she
blinked twice. She walked away from the Weasleys, and taking the hint, Harry
and Tom followed her.
"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, barely moving her lips.
"Of course!" Harry said, smiling.
"Is Tom with you?"
"Yes."
"Where are you going to sit?"
"No idea."
"You might need to sit outside the stadium. You'll be caught if you try to come
in."
"Where's Ron?"
"He's taking a nap. He was so excited about the game yesterday that he barely
slept." A smiled perked on her face. "He feels bad you couldn't come."
"Maybe I'll surprise him with the news when I get back home." There was a heavy
sigh behind them. "I think Tom is getting annoyed. I guess we should leave.
Enjoy the game and - ouch, Tom!"
"Weasley’s father was approaching Granger," Tom explained irritably as he
pulled Harry away from Hermione and back to the woods. "We were about to be
discovered."
They didn't have much to do while waiting for the game. Tom sat and read his
book while Harry watched the wizarding families pass by.
"What book is that?" Harry asked when the boredom had become unbearable.
"It's a biography on numerous cannibalistic witches and wizards," Tom replied,
his eyes focused on the page.
"Why am I not surprised?" Harry said, sighing. He lay on the ground, resting
his head on Tom's lap. Tom brought his hand to Harry, idly stroking his hair
and brushing his fingers on his cheeks. The caresses soothed Harry so much that
he didn't realize that he had drifted off to sleep until Tom woke him up.
"Your game is about to begin," he said while prodding Harry's side. "You’d
better not have dragged me out here just to fall asleep!"
Harry jumped to his feet, fully alert. "Let's go!" he said excitedly, leading
Tom by the hand.
"Hermione's right," he realized when he saw the entrance to the stadium, "we
can't get in the stadium. Where should we sit?"
Tom looked around him for a moment before replying, "How about over there? We
could get a good view of the players from this angle."
"Okay," Harry said. He ran to the elevated ground, with Tom having to keep
close lest the Invisibility Cloak slipped off. "Yes! It's a good view from
here!" he shouted. Tom winced. "Don't worry, Tom," Harry said in a quieter
tone. "Everyone's in the stadium right now. No one can hear us."
The two boys settled down; Tom resumed his reading while Harry's attention was
focused on the sky. With exception of the distant cheers from the crowd, all
was quiet.
Tom was soon so absorbed in his book that his mind was shut off from everything
around him. All of a suddenly there was a booming "YES!" and Tom jumped a
couple of inches.
"Did you have to shout in our language?" Tom replied crossly, giving Harry a
dirty look. "You sounded like a snake that's about to pounce!"
"Sorry," Harry said. "Ireland just scored."
"I don't care!"
Harry rolled his eyes and went back to watching the game. Tom watched him.
                                      ***
What was that sound? Sirius wondered as he strolled around the stadium. It
sounded like a huge hiss, but there weren't any huge snakes in this forest.
Probably just my imagination, he thought.
And then he heard two voices not far from where he stood. He turned around,
listening hard. Two boys were arguing, but he could not see them. And then he
understood.
                                      ***
"I need to use the bathroom," Harry said after a while. He began to lift the
Invisibility Cloak off himself when Tom stopped him.
"You're not going out there where people can see you!" he said. "I'll join
you."
"No!" Harry replied. It's going to feel strange peeing with you right behind
me!"
"We've shared the bathroom before! We did so this morning!"
"That's because one of us was showering while the other brushed his teeth,"
Harry explained. "Just let me go. I'll only be gone for a minute."
"You're not getting out of my sight," Tom insisted. He grabbed Harry's wrist,
and jumping to his feet, he escorted Harry away from their spot.
                                      ***
Invisibility Cloak, Sirius thought as his ears focused on the talking and the
soft crunching of their feet hitting the grass. James used to own one... Taking
his chances, Sirius followed as best he could with only the sounds to guide him
in their direction.
He reached a public restroom, and to his amazement and relief, it was Harry who
had suddenly appeared. He was still far away from Sirius, but from that
distance, Sirius could see that his godson looked to be about fifteen or
sixteen. Sirius grinned.
Another boy appeared. He pushed Harry into the bathroom, laughing. Harry yelled
and swore at him as he slammed the door shut.
Who is he? Sirius thought. He and Harry continued to argue in a manner that
strongly reminded Sirius of the way he used to playfully fight with his
friends.
But what are they doing outside the stadium and out of everyone's sight? Sirius
wondered. He stayed far from the boys. He wanted to approach Harry, but he was
uncertain of how to do so with the other boy around. He couldn't pull Harry
away while still in his dog form; the other boy could try to fight Sirius,
thinking that he was some insane dog. Who are you? Sirius mentally questioned,
annoyed.
He circled around the public restroom, away from the other boy and closer to
Harry. He decided he would jump through the window and corner to Harry there.
He and Harry could explain everything to Harry's friend later on.
                                      ***
Ah, heaven! Harry sighed as he relieved himself. While he washed his hands, his
mind drifted back to the stadium, wondering how many more points the Irish team
had scored. He couldn't wait until they headed back near the stadium.
Suddenly there was a swishing sound behind him, and before Harry could react to
the image of wizards in the mirror, he was struck by a curse.
                                      ***
Before he could jump in, Sirius heard a muffled scream inside.
Harry! His eyes widened. The Death Eaters must have Apparated inside! He
charged forward, but he toppled to the ground before reaching the bathroom. He
was held tightly to the ground by a curse. In the corner of his eye, he could
make out the form of the wizard who silently held him in place.
He tried to growl, but he couldn't move his jaws. Wormtail!
                                      ***
Tom was startled by the scream inside.
Harry! Throwing the Invisibility Cloak and book aside, Tom whipped out his wand
and charged inside.
Harry was struggling aggressively against two wizards. A hunchbacked wizard
gripped Harry's arms while the other wizard tried to keep Harry on the ground.
His other wand arm was raised, ready to hex him, but Harry was kicking him with
so much strength with his legs, it was difficult for the wizard to land a
single curse on him.
"Expelliarmus!" Tom roared, and the wand flew out of the wizard's hand. "Get
off him!" Tom demanded angrily.
Harry tried to scream something at them, but one of the wizards kept his hand
firmly over Harry's mouth.
Tom waved his arm and began an incantation of a curse only to be attacked from
behind by a witch and wizard that had just Apparated. He fell to the floor on
his stomach.
"Who do you think you are, handsome brat?" the chubby witch asked while sitting
on top of Tom. She shrieked with mirth. "I love his hair, Yaxley!" She grabbed
a fistful of Tom's hair and pulled his head backwards, taking a good look at
his curls as though Tom was some kind of toy.
"Careful, Alecto, or you'll break his back," Yaxley laughed. He kicked the wand
out of Tom's hand with such force that Tom screamed. The wand landed just a
couple inches between Harry and Tom. Tom stretched out his arm, desperate to
snatch it back.
And then Yaxley's heavy boot came down, snapping the wand in half.
"NO!" Tom screamed. Alecto and Yaxley guffawed.
"Let's leave now," Rookwood said urgently before Apparating. Tom looked up.
Amycus and Yaxley were tying Harry's mouth and body in a heavy rope. The same
was done to Tom next before they too were Apparated and taken away.
                                      ***
Once Wormtail disappeared and the magical binds lifted, Sirius jumped to his
feet and quickly transfigured back to his human form. He dashed back around the
bathroom and ran inside. The bathroom had only three stalls inside, and it was
completely empty except for a broken wand on the floor.
"Harry!" Sirius called out in desperation. He ran outside, looking for Harry's
friend. The Invisibility Cloak and an old book were outside, but the friend was
nowhere around. He was taken away too.
"No, no..." Sirius muttered desperately. He was so close to preventing
something like this from happening! He had no idea where the Death Eaters were
going to take Harry and his friend now.
"Damn...damn...damn..." he repeatedly muttered under his breath. He turned
around and jumped, startled. A wand was pointing at him. The man who was
holding the wand was standing in the doorway, and he could not stop staring at
Sirius. Sirius raised his hands, but the angry man did not lower his wand.
His eyebrows raised, Sirius said, "Put your wand down, Remus..."
                                      ***
"C'mon!" Rookwood called out when they landed. The other witches and wizards
nodded and ran through the woods. Tom struggled against his bindings.
Rookwood and Wormtail turned right, and Tom's eyes widened. He was so intent on
breaking free that he had not noticed where they had Apparated to. Inscribed on
the large headstone nearby was his father's name. Riddle Manor was a short
distance away.
Across from his father's tombstone was a large black cauldron. A fire had been
lit underneath it, but Tom could not discern what was inside.
Rookwood had taken Harry from Amycus, and he ordered the others to go inside.
Another wizard came forward.
"So that's the little bastard," said a straw-haired wizard.
"Not much to him, is there, Barty?"
"Nope," Crouch agreed nastily, smirking. "From all the talk about him, I had
expected to see a tall, brawny wizard!" He slapped Harry across the face hard
and laughed. Rookwood tied Harry to Tom's father's grave while Crouch checked
the fire underneath the large cauldron. Tom was tied next to Harry on his
right.
What are they up to? Tom wondered, now feeling alarmed. The small wizard the
others called Wormtail returned; he was holding something in his arms that was
bundled up in blankets. Tom stretched out his neck to see what was in the
blanket, but then he heard Harry suddenly scream in pain; he whipped around,
but neither Rookwood nor Crouch had done anything to hurt him. Harry's eyes
were sealed shut, and he shook his head viciously as though trying to shake
something out.
What's wrong, Harry? Tom wondered worriedly.
"My scar!" Harry hissed painfully in Parseltongue as though he had read Tom's
mind.
"What did you say?" Rookwood questioned.
Tom's eyes flew up to Harry's forehead, and everything became clear to him. His
heart plummeted as he realized what this meant.
The three wizards gathered around the cauldron. The thing inside the blanket
was thrown into the cauldron. Wormtail began to recite:
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, You will renew your son."
The ground beneath Harry's feet shook and cracked. Dust rose and fell into the
cauldron. Tom's mind raced. He had to get Harry out of here...
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, You will revive your master."
Tom's eyes were still glued on Harry, but he heard Wormtail scream. Something
heavy plopped into the cauldron with a splash.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, You will resurrect your foe."
Staggering, Wormtail approached Harry. His right hand was severed, and a trail
of blood splattered on the ground. All Tom could do was watch as Wormtail
punctured Harry's arm with a small knife and collected the blood in a small
glass vial.
Harry whimpered at the pain, and Tom struggled as fiercely as he could to break
free as Wormtail returned to the cauldron.
"Harry, I have to get you out of here," Tom whispered in Parseltongue in the
quietest voice he could muster. His struggles had finally paid off, and he’d
wiggled one foot free.
"No," Harry replied in an almost inaudible voice. "Leave me...we don't have a
lot of time"
"I'll get you out of here," Tom said. In the corner of his eye, he could see
sparks flying from the cauldron.
"Leave me..."
Loud noises were coming from the cauldron.
"I'm almost there."
Before Tom could pull the ropes off, a strong hand tightly grasped his
shoulder. He gasped in surprise as his body was dragged in front of Harry. He
looked up into the angry, scarlet eyes of a very tall, thin, and pale wizard.
"Hello, Tom," Lord Voldemort said.
Tom tried to get up, but his older self pushed him back with his wand.
"Hello, sir," Tom spat. Harry watched them, his face pale.
"You know this brat, master?" Crouch asked. Next to him, Wormtail was
whimpering while cradling what remained of his right arm.
"Yes..." Lord Voldemort hissed. "We were once very close to each other..."
Lord Voldemort looked as though he was about to strike Tom across the face, but
instead he waved his wand at him. Tom flew and hit the headstone, right next to
Harry. Before he could get away, he was magically bound to the stone.
"Harry Potter," Lord Voldemort greeted coldly. "So good to see you." He was
face to face with him. Tom watched him with a disgusted look. "Do you see what
your mother's sacrifice has done to me? For many years I was nothing more than
a phantom; I did not have a body. But no matter; I have regained my body and my
strength." His sneer sent a shiver down Harry's back. "I can touch you!" He
brought a finger up to Harry's scar.
Tom winced at Harry's pained shriek.
"Stop it," he hissed dangerously, but Lord Voldemort continued to press his
finger to Harry's scar.
When he was satisfied, he finally let go of Harry. Laughing a high, cold laugh,
he walked towards Rookwood.
"Give me your arm," he ordered. Rookwood obeyed. Tom struggled to get up and
see what his older self was about to do. Lord Voldemort pressed the tip of his
wand against Rookwood's arm. Rookwood winced slightly, and there was an
uncomfortable sneer on his face.
A moment later, dozens of people cloaked in black robes arrived from every
direction: the manor, the forest, and from out of nowhere. They made a circle
around Voldemort and his captives, and Crouch and Rookwood joined them.
Wormtail tried to get up, but he was losing too much blood.
"Master," he stammered, looking up at his leader and begging him for help with
his beady eyes. Lord Voldemort ignored him.
"My dear Death Eaters," Lord Voldemort began coldly, "it has been years since
we last met like this. Thirteen years, in fact...I had expected better of you!"
A shiver ran through the circle at their leader's bitter and angry tone. "Many
of you did not bother to come looking for me after that night..."
While Lord Voldemort addressed the Death Eaters, Tom continued to struggle.
Harry's foot tapped him on the left shoulder. He looked up, and Harry shook his
head warningly.
We have to get out of here! Tom mouthed. He perfectly knew what his older self
was capable of doing, and he was sure Lord Voldemort was not going to be
pleased once he learned why his younger self had never sought him out. Tom knew
how unforgiving he himself could be, and he didn't want to imagine what Lord
Voldemort would do to him...and to Harry...
"...Wormtail returned, but only out of fear," Lord Voldemort told the Death
Eaters. There was a wide pool of blood around Wormtail, and his face had gone
pale. "He helped me during my most vulnerable hours, and he, along with
Rookwood and Crouch, brought me to my new body. Their deeds will be rewarded."
"Master..." Wormtail said in barely a whisper.
"Which brings me to him," Lord Voldemort finished, gesturing to the headstone.
Everyone turned towards Harry and Tom, both tied up to the headstone.
"You are familiar with Harry Potter, I'm sure," Lord Voldemort said bitterly,
giving Harry a look of disgust. "He was my downfall, but he is also my
rebirth!" His head turned towards Tom.
"This boy you see before you is myself," he continued. Murmurs and gasps ran
through the circle. "Up until recently, he had lived inside my diary, the diary
that Lucius Malfoy gave to a student. My younger self successfully left the
diary forever to live his own life, but there is one little problem...
"Why didn’t you search for me?" he demanded Tom. "Why haven't you killed
Potter?"
"I have looked for you," Tom replied. "My intent was to give Harry to you."
This was no lie. I simply lost interest in you, Tom added in his mind.
"You've looked for me?" Lord Voldemort repeated coldly. "I do not accept that
lie. Harry had been living comfortably in your house for more than a year! You
let his friends visit him! You've properly fed him, clothed him, and educated
him!" His red eyes flashed dangerously. "You say his name with something close
to affection! Harry has referred to you as a friend in his letters!"
Harry's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"
An awful sneer crossed Lord Voldemort's face. "Wormtail!" he ordered. He placed
a hand on his shoulder when he slouched by his side. "Do you recognize him?" he
asked Harry. Confused, Harry shook his head. Lord Voldemort turned to Wormtail,
silently commanding him.
Wormtail looked right into Harry's eyes before he body began twisting. Soon, in
place of the man stood a rat. He jumped up at Harry, still looking at him.
Harry's jaws dropped. "Scabbers?" Lord Voldemort and several of the Death
Eaters laughed. "You're an Animagus..."
"Your friend taught you well," Lord Voldemort said coldly.
Harry looked up at him. "I don't understand...why was he spying on me?"
Wormtail jumped off his shoulders and changed back to his human form. Lord
Voldemort waved his wand, and the rope binding Harry disappeared, but Tom
remained tied up to his father's headstone. Harry toppled to the ground, but he
quickly regained his footing. Lord Voldemort motioned for him to come closer.
Wormtail just kept staring into Harry's eyes; it was difficult to decipher what
emotion lay behind them.
"M-master," Wormtail stuttered. He motioned to his right arm.
"Not now, Wormtail!" Lord Voldemort hissed angrily.
"B-b-b-but, m-master, I..." Lord Voldemort turned to Wormtail, his wand raised.
"I...need..."
"Crucio!"
Wormtail fell to the ground, convulsing and shrieking in pain. Gasping, Harry
ran to his side, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him out of the spell.
"Stop it!" he screamed at Lord Voldemort. "He did nothing to deserve this!" A
few of the Death Eaters muttered amongst each other. "I don't believe you!
Wormtail helped you so much, and his arm needs to be healed, but you're not
doing anything! Don't you think you should tend to your supporters before
turning to me?"
An ugly snarl crossed Lord Voldemort face. "Crucio!" he called out again, and
this time the spell hit Harry.
The pain was as terrible as the first time Tom cast the spell on him a year
before. He screamed as the familiar white-hot knives pierced every inch of his
body. When finally the curse was lifted, Harry slumped over Wormtail, trying to
regain his breath.
Lord Voldemort chuckled. "Do you know who this fellow is? That rat you see
before you betrayed your parents," Lord Voldemort explained in a dangerously
soft voice.
Harry's eyes widened. "W-what?" he stared into Wormtail's eyes, who returned
them with an empty stare.
"Your parents knew him as Peter Pettigrew," Lord Voldemort continued. "He went
to Hogwarts with your parents, and they were close friends. However, Wormtail
felt he rightly belonged in my circle, isn't that right, Wormtail?"
Wormtail didn't reply.
"Move aside, Harry, and let me finish the punishment!" Lord Voldemort cried
out. But Harry stayed where he was. "Crucio!" Harry took the curse again. Lord
Voldemort tried throwing the curse over and over, each time Harry letting the
curse hit him instead.
You're out of your mind! Tom thought. He thrashed about against the binds,
desperate to break out and go to Harry's side. You fool, move aside! The spell
could drive you mad!
"Why are you protecting him? He betrayed your parents! He's betrayed you!" Lord
Voldemort screamed angrily as Harry took another curse, his body working as a
shield between Lord Voldemort and Wormtail.
Lord Voldemort set his arm to his side, silent for several moments. "Very well,
if you so insist on being obstinate." A horrible smile came on his skull-like
face.
He raised his wand. "Avada..."
At that moment, Tom broke free. Without thinking, he ran towards Harry and
pushed him away just as Lord Voldemort screamed "...Kedavra!"
The flash of green light hit Tom on the chest.
Pain from the Cruciatus Curse was nothing compared to this agony. Tom felt his
entire body shredding inside. White-hot knives pierced him and twisted into his
internal organs. His breathing stopped; he couldn't scream, and all sense of
sight left him in a flash. He could not feel his arms or legs. His brain,
heart, and privates felt as though a powerful hook was tied to them and
wrenching intensely in effort to tear his soul from his body. He was being
pulled to the afterlife, but the immortality spell had sealed his soul inside
so profoundly, he couldn't rip free.
The pain was beyond anything a human could stand. The tiny portion of his brain
that continued to function prayed for it all to stop.
When the curse was lifted, he took a deep intake of breath, feeling as though
he had come up for air in the nick of time. His entire body stung; there was a
tingling feeling in his fingers and toes. Vision slowly returned.
"Tom?" Harry looked down at him, worried and shocked. His hand gripped Tom's
right hand.
Tom blinked and sat up; Harry helped him to his feet. There was an unsettling
silence in the circle. Wormtail was watching them with his jaw opened. Lord
Voldemort stared at him, stunned.
"How did you achieve this?" he questioned in a voice that was both very low and
extremely dangerous. He approached Tom until their faces were inches from each
other. "What we did could not save us from the Killing Curse. You've done
something else!" His eyes scanned down, and revolted, he suddenly took a couple
of steps backwards.
It was then that both Tom and Harry became aware that they were holding hands.
Every pair of eyes was now locked on them. They quickly pulled away, both
disguising looks of fear and nervousness. Lord Voldemort's eyes were locked on
Tom; his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"This explains quite a bit," he whispered lethally to Tom. Neither boy moved.
Lord Voldemort finally turned to Wormtail. Harry watched as Lord Voldemort
waved his arm around, and a bright light shone on the stump of Wormtail's arm.
When the light cleared, it showed a silver, glove-like hand. Wormtail clenched
his new fingers, a look of shock on his face.
"T-t-t-thank you, master," he said. He looked like he was about to pass out.
Lord Voldemort waved his wand again and pulled out a small vial from his
pockets. He pressed the dark red potion to Wormtail's lips, and his face
instantly grew warm.
Tom's jaw dropped. He produced phoenix blood out of thin air! I can’t do that!
His heart pounded in his chest, and he wondered dreadfully how much more
powerful his older self was. I am no longer his equal...and he's seen me and
Harry...
Lord Voldemort turned around. "Take Potter away!" he ordered a couple of Death
Eaters. "Put him in Pyrites' laboratory. I will deal with the other brat
myself."
Harry and Tom's eyes briefly met; Harry tried to tell him something, but Tom
refused to keep eye contact. Harry felt the Death Eater grab him and magically
tie him up, but he did nothing. His eyes never left Tom.
Lord Voldemort placed a pale hand on Tom's cheek, but Tom refused to look at
either of them.
When Harry was well out of earshot, Lord Voldemort ordered another Death Eater,
"Let the news of my return spread!"
"Such a wonderful surprise the Mudbloods will get in the Quidditch World Cup!"
Rookwood laughed as several Death Eaters Disapparated.
Tom's eyes widened, but he could not do or say anything. He was completely and
utterly powerless against them...against Lord Voldemort...
                                      ***
Lucius Malfoy smirked as he and several others Apparated close to the stadium.
"Ready?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked. Next to him, his wife, Bellatrix,
snickered. Lucius nodded. The cloaked witches and wizards stormed into the
stadium, their wands raised. Not a single person noticed them coming; their
attention was focused on the game.
"Now," Lucius commanded in a whisper.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Morsmordre!"
                                      ***
"What are you doing outside of Azkaban?" Remus Lupin demanded.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't Stun you and call in the Aurors,"
Remus said, ignoring Sirius's question. "Why are you here? How did you break
out? The Dementors should have kept you locked up for years!"
"Remus, please listen," Sirius said, determinedly looking into Remus's eyes.
"Harry was abducted –"
"What are you talking about?"
"The Death Eaters have broken out of Azkaban," Sirius tried to explain.
Remus stared at Sirius. His wand twitched in his hand. After a moment spent
digesting what he’d been told, he looked very skeptical. "The Death Eaters,
free?"
He thinks I'm crazy! Sirius thought. "You have to take my word for it. The
Dementors have joined Lord Voldemort. All the imprisoned Death Eaters broke
out; they planned to take Harry from here and hand him over."
"Harry's not here," Remus said.
"I saw him!" Sirius insisted. "Harry was in this bathroom - look! That's his
wand right there! Harry's cloak is still outside! I didn't see them, but many
Death Eaters took him and his friend - Wormtail was out there!"
Remus's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Peter's been dead for years!"
"He faked his own death! He was the one who betrayed James and Lily!" Sirius
said desperately. "I would never betray them, Remus! You should know that!"
Remus kept looking at him as though he had lost his mind.
"And why would Harry be here?" he challenged Sirius.
"From what I know, Harry has no contact with the wizarding world."
Sirius looked stunned. "But I saw him!" he insisted again. "He was wearing his
father's Invisibility Cloak! Have you met him? He must be a fifth or sixth year
by now."
"Harry doesn't go to Hogwarts," Remus said, narrowing his eyes.
Sirius gaped at him, so Remus explained. "He hasn't entered the castle since
the end of his second year. He lives under the scrutiny of another wizard."
"What? What happened?"
"This is none of you concern! You are no longer considered his godfather, not
after what you've done!"
"I would never betray James!" Sirius shrieked. "Dumbledore – is he around? Let
me speak to him! I'm telling you the truth; Peter is still alive! Harry was
abducted. Voldemort is going to rise to power once more!" He turned around in
his spot. "We're losing too much time! We have to get help!"
Rope flew out of Remus's wand, but Sirius did not protest as it winded around
him.
"If you insist," Sirius said. "Let Dumbledore see me. I will show him
everything in my mind. He'll know the truth! Hurry now!"
But to his disappointment, Remus took his time ushering him to the stadium. He
still doesn't believe me! Sirius thought bitterly. He's not even willing to
check up on Harry just to be on the safe side!"
He pushed Remus aside using his entire body and tried to crawl his way to the
stadium. Remus grabbed his shoulders.
"Let me go!" Sirius yelled. "You don't know what danger Harry could be in!"
"For the last time –" Remus broke off. Sirius looked up. Hovering over the
Quidditch stadium was a vivid green symbol...
"The Dark Mark!" Sirius gasped, his heart sinking. "Oh Merlin, no! He’s
returned!"
                                      ***
Nothing could have prepared Tonks for the turn of events that evening.
"Avada Kedavra!"
One of the Bulgarian Chasers was hit with the curse, and the corpse fell off
his broom. Screams erupted in the stadium.
"Morsmordre!"
A large, vivid, green image of a skull with a snake protruding from its jaws
illuminated the sky. More screaming followed, and the stands shook as hundreds
of pairs of feet ran down the stands and collided with other attendants.
"The Dark Mark!" Shacklebolt shouted. "Hurry!"
"Oh my..." Gripping her wand, Tonks joined the other Aurors, running towards
the Death Eaters while dozens of terrified witches and wizards ran in the
opposite direction.
In less than a minute, a peaceful game had turned to bloody pandemonium.
***** Chapter Thirteen - The Darkest Hours of Their Lives *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                               Chapter Thirteen
                       The Darkest Hours of Their Lives
                                        
                        "To fear love is to fear life,
                          and those who fear life are
                          already three parts dead."
                              - Bertrand Russell
                                     *****
Tightly tied with rope, Harry was dragged away to the large manor. His mind was
still on Tom, worried about what was going to happen to him. He struggled
against his bonds, losing his glasses in the process, but to no avail.
He was dragged past the gates and into the entrance door. The Death Eaters made
their way down the corridor, turned around several corners, and yanked him down
a stairwell. Harry vaguely recognized this manor; this was where Tom's father
had lived...he had caught a glimpse of this manor in Tom's dreams...
Finally, they stopped. Harry looked around, squinting; the first thing that he
saw made his entire body run cold. Across from where he sat was a closet. The
door was open, and inside on the upper shelves were numerous jars. Inside the
jars were body parts. Two tall jars stood underneath them. One contained a
human skeleton, and the other...
Harry couldn't stop staring at the man's face. The witch next to him bellowed
with laughter.
"That's Derek Avery," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "The Dark Lord
wished to have his organs pulled out."
"Why..." Harry whispered, not blinking.
"So much can be done with human organs," replied a soft, calm voice. A new
wizard approached Harry. He wore small square glasses on the tip of his long
nose. Unlike the other Death Eaters, his robes were white instead of black, and
with his light gray hair and very pale skin, he resembled a ghost. With another
jolt of anxiety, Harry noticed the blood stains on his white gloves. The wizard
smiled kindly. "I daresay you and the Dark Lord's younger self will have
similar fates." He traced one finger down Harry's cheek. "So much wonderful
magic can be done with the human body. You say he's an immortal, Bella?"
"Yes, indeed, Pyrites" the witch said, staring down at Harry as though he was
just a pile of soot.
"My, my...what a lovely, rare specimen," Pyrites said, examining Harry coolly.
"An immortal..."
Specimen? "What are you going to do to me?" Harry demanded, barely able to stop
the shakiness in his voice. He didn't want to think about what it would be like
to be in Avery's position...his body separated into jars yet not dead...feeling
the pain for all of eternity..."Where's Tom? What are you going to do to him?"
No one answered him. Pyrites pointed his wand at one corner of the room; the
floor, wall, and air turned a pale shade of green. Pyrites next pointed his
wand at Harry, and Harry flew into the corner. The ropes disappeared, and Harry
quickly rose to his feet. He took a few steps and collided with the transparent
green barrier. Pyrites smiled.
"You will remain here for as long as the Dark Lord requests," Pyrites informed
him. Harry detested his calm, gentle voice.
"What for?" Harry demanded.
"I will be conducting experiments on you and your friend to determine any
physiological explanations for your immortal body," Pyrites unemotionally
explained. "I may require your blood and organ tissues, or I may need to divide
your body into jars, as I did with dear Derek Avery."
Harry's eyebrows rose. Pyrites spoke with detached emotions, and he regarded
Harry as though he was just an object and not a human being. He really was
serious about cutting his body up...
Tom... Harry's heart shot up into his throat. Again he tried to stop himself
from imagining what it would be like to have his immortal body spilt into
jars...
"I see," was all he could reply to Pyrites, keeping his voice as steady as he
could. The wizard left at that moment without another look along with the other
Death Eaters, leaving Harry alone in the cold room with the remaining body
parts of Avery.
                                      ***
Tom didn't speak until he was taken into Lord Voldemort's room. A large snake
was coiled near the fireplace. Lord Voldemort ordered the snake, Nagini, to
leave. As she slithered by, Tom felt a strange, brief tug towards the snake, as
though he was, somehow, a part of her.
He stood still as Lord Voldemort magically sealed the door. Tom's eyes flew to
the windows, and as though Lord Voldemort read his mind, the windows
disappeared. He took a couple steps forward and turned around to face his older
self. He forced his breathing to stay steady.
"Such an interesting revelation you made out there," Lord Voldemort started,
his deadly eyes scrutinizing Tom's face. "This certainly explains everything:
why you've never sought me, why Harry was never harmed under your care, why you
seem a little...different...right now."
"I have told you," Tom replied as calmly as he could, "I did seek you."
"Until Harry Potter stole all your attention," Lord Voldemort finished.
Tom didn't reply; that was the truth. He had stopped his search because he had
grown closer to Harry...
Lord Voldemort moved closer and ran a long, pale finger down Tom's cheek. "How
did you achieve immortality?" he questioned. "Was it a result of the Horcrux?"
"Why don't you try casting the Killing Curse on yourself and see," Tom said
calmly, his eyes narrowed. He pushed Lord Voldemort's hand away from his face.
The red eyes flashed dangerously.
"That body is as much rightfully mine as it is yours," Lord Voldemort said in a
low voice as his eyes trialed down to Tom's heart. "I can do whatever I wish
with it..." His fingers lightly brushed against Tom's chest; Tom took a step
back, throwing his older self a filthy look.
"I do not believe it was the Horcrux," Lord Voldemort continued after a few
moments of silence. "The Killing Curse tore me from my body; the same spell has
affected you differently. The energy I sense in you is the same energy I sensed
inside Harry...he too is an immortal...I could find many uses for his body as
well..."
"Lay one finger on Harry, and you'll have to answer to me!" Tom spat out
suddenly.
His eyes darted back up to Tom's face. "What did you do?" he hissed. "How did
you achieve this?"
Tom didn't reply. Lord Voldemort jabbed his rib with his wand.
"Well?"
Tom refused to speak. Giving up, Lord Voldemort pulled back. He grabbed Tom's
chin, and before Tom could push away, he looked into Tom's eyes. Images quickly
surfaced to the top of his mind as though they were being pulled by force.
He was looking through an old notebook...Harry was on the bed, unconscious and
looking very young...Tom was drawing blood from Harry's arm...
"A spell..." he heard Lord Voldemort say, his voice sounding as though it was
coming from far away. "It was the spell Grindelwald showed us many years
ago..."
Tom bit his lip, resolving to stay silent. His mind was being racked for the
details, but Tom silently fought back. Eventually, Lord Voldemort let go,
observing Tom for a long while through vile eyes.
"What did the young brat do to trick you into this indecency, this absurdity?"
he hissed through clenched teeth.
"Trick me?" Tom repeated angrily, breaking his resolve. "Harry had no power
whatsoever. I had his wand. He could not leave the room without me lifting the
magical barrier. I held him hostage. I was in complete control! Harry couldn’t
trick me. I..." he paused. "I grew to understand him, to like him."
"It's insanity you speak!" Lord Voldemort hissed abhorrently. "We were never
one to feel such a useless emotion!"
"My feelings for Harry are genuine!"
"He has infected your mind!"
"I love him!"
Lord Voldemort's eyes widened and burned brighter. Tension filled the room as
their eyes locked.
"Love," Lord Voldemort began slowly, finally breaking the silence. "Love...you
have made yourself weak. Such an emotion is below us. I am disgusted with you."
"Love does not make people weak," Tom said.
"Love is for fools," Lord Voldemort spat.
He pointed his wand to the side, and green sparks shot up. An image in bright
green light formed in front of Tom. It was of a skull with a snake protruding
from its jaws.
"The Dark Mark," Lord Voldemort explained. "The symbol I and my servants use to
proclaim our presence. Every Death Eater wears the Mark on his arm. Morsmordre.
Our friends Rosier and Prince made the spell for me as a present."
Tom turned his attention towards Lord Voldemort.
"It was during my final year at Hogwarts," Lord Voldemort continued. "I had
begun to form what would soon become the first generation of Death Eaters.
Rosier and Prince were among my most intimate friends, as you know. They both
had offered to invent a spell that would keep me connected to my servants. Thus
they worked together, Marilyn Rosier the artist and Eileen Prince the inventor.
"Rosier, however, sought a little payment from me." A horrible sneer crossed
his pallid face.
He stepped closer to Tom and grabbed his chin again. He looked into Tom's eyes,
and Tom's mind was soon filled with a memory that was not his own.
Marilyn Rosier was talking in a hushed voice to his older self. They were in
the library, seemingly alone. The windows nearby showed a pitch black sky.
Tom couldn't hear what they were saying, but the images before him spoke loud
and clear. Marilyn was gripping Tom's arm. A cold smile passed across Tom's
face and he moved closer, kissing her.
"No..." Tom muttered as he was brought back to the present.
"You never noticed the attention she always gave you?" Lord Voldemort said. "I
had figured out the reason for her always standing near me and wanting to help
me. She desired me. I, of course, gave her what she wanted...anything that she
wanted. It assured me that she would not go astray. Our affair empowered her to
work even more enthusiastically for my cause."
An ill feeling swarmed in Tom's belly. He imagined Marilyn when they were in
their first year, her chubby face and innocent smile...
Tom absentmindedly placed a hand over his belly. His other self did not
understand love...he’d used Marilyn...he’d used that little girl...
You were no different, a voice in the back of his head told him. But Marilyn
was different, he stubbornly told himself. He had known Marilyn for many
years...
"Their work eventually paid off," Lord Voldemort continued. "They presented me
my gift: the Dark Mark. I could brand the Mark on any of my servants. They
could feel me whenever I beckoned them to my side. Even more, any of the Death
Eaters could summon the Dark Mark into the sky. It was truly a wonderful gift
from my most loyal servants.
"Around that time, Rosier stopped seeking me during the night. I was surprised
but not upset. I had no use for her anymore. But then, just a month or so
before our graduation, she asked me to meet her somewhere private. She seemed
desperate. I took her inside the nearest bathroom and locked the door."
There was a sour expression on his face.
"She told me she was pregnant," he suddenly spat.
Tom gaped.
"We had made an agreement to prevent any conception from ever happening, but
the little bitch wanted to give me an heir, a present from her to me," Lord
Voldemort recalled angrily.
Tom suddenly remembered the date of death next to Marilyn's name: May 6, 1945.
No...
"I killed her," Lord Voldemort said coldly. "The Killing Curse was not enough
to satisfy me, but I did not want to touch the filthy girl. I put her under the
Imperious Curse and commanded her commit stab herself right before me. After
that, I took care of the problem that resided in her womb."
"No..." Tom gasped. Before he could stop him, Lord Voldemort sent more images
into Tom's mind.
Tom wished he did not see what remained of Marilyn.
"No!" he shrieked. Beside her body was himself just a year or two older, his
eyes blazing with rage. He thrust a hand into her belly with incredible force,
ripping out -
"NO!" Tom shrieked, breaking the connection. "What did you do to your child?"
he demanded angrily.
"I buried it," Lord Voldemort said as though it was the simplest thing to do.
"I might have used the fetus for my own advantage, but I was so upset that I
did not take the time to think. It does not matter. I buried the child on the
school grounds. I cleaned myself and I willed myself to look shaken when the
rest of the school found out about Rosier's death. I showed them that I was
very much affected by my friend's tragic end.
"Dumbledore initially suspected me, but she had motive to kill herself after
Grindelwald's defeat, so even he concluded it was suicide. There was clear
indication that Marilyn had murdered herself. Her reason, everyone suspected,
was that Grindelwald had been defeated. She was, after all, a huge
supporter...his downfall would naturally push a fanatical follower into
suicide."
Monster... Tom thought fearfully, staring at what he had become. He remembered
the time he had walked past Marilyn's home during the summer he had killed his
father. He had paused briefly under her window, listening to the music she was
playing on her gramophone. She always loved art, even if it was created by a
Muggle...
She was listening to Benny Goodman, Tom recalled. He had stood and listened,
his hands still fresh with the murder of his father, smiling at what she must
have been doing at that very moment. If he had to guess, she had been doing her
silly dance around the easel, painting in rhythm with the music.
His stomach lurched.
"But there was another person who suspected that I was behind Rosier's death,"
Lord Voldemort broke through Tom's thoughts." Prince figured out what had
happened. After I graduated, I lost connection with her for several years.
"I later learned that she has married a Muggle named Tobias Snape just two
weeks after she met him. She did it to spite me! Many times I tried to contact
her; I used the bloody Mark she created, threatening her through severe pain to
come back, but she fought me with silence.
"She had a son, Severus, but her marriage was disastrous. Tobias Snape was not
kind to his wife..." a horrible smile was now on his face. "Prince had the
nerve to come to me when she could not handle the abuse any longer!" He laughed
a high, cold laugh that made Tom take a step back. "I sent her away."
"By his good fortune, her son became one of my Death Eaters. I offered him the
chance to rid himself of his gloomy past."
Tom groaned. Another date resurfaced in his mind. Eileen's date of death:
October 23, 1980.
Professor Snape murdered his own mother, Tom thought, feeling close to
vomiting. He murdered my Eileen...
He remembered seeing Eileen for the first time in the library. She had been
only a first year, a frail, silent girl, seemingly weak. She had been working
on a new spell. Even then she had been full of potential. He’d taken her under
his wing to make her his servant and friend...
"Eileen...Marilyn..." Tom moaned. His eyes shot up at Lord Voldemort. "How
could you?" he shrieked "They helped you more than the others! How could you?"
"Such disgusting emotion," Lord Voldemort spat. "You care about them..."
It was true. The more he recalled the past, the more Tom felt affection for the
music Marilyn used to play and for little Eileen rummaging through books for
her own personal research on a new spell or potion...
"You killed my friends!" Tom screamed.
"Look at yourself," Lord Voldemort said angrily. "Look at what Potter has done
to you! You've become weak! Just like Rosier, love has made you a fool!"
"Love has strengthened me!" Tom corrected. "Love has made me feel more alive!"
"Such lunacy!"
"I'm not insane!" Tom shouted. "Harry taught me love! I understand it better
than you! This knowledge, you need another person to understand it, it's not
something you can acquire from a book!"
"Then it was Harry who infected your mind!" Lord Voldemort roared. "What made
you listen to him?" Before Tom could react, Lord Voldemort had grabbed him and
focused their eyes to have contact once more.
To Tom's horror, images began to resurface...images he never wanted his older
self to see...he tried to fight off Lord Voldemort, but it was in vain...
He was holding hands with Harry...Harry was smiling at him as they talked late
in the night...Tom was kissing him in their makeshift bed on the balcony...Tom
was in the shower, running his hands down his own body and moaning Harry's
name...they were both nude on the bed, Harry's eyes inviting Tom as Tom's hand
pleasured his friend...
Tom was shoved to the wall. He chanced a look at his older self.
Lord Voldemort’s face had gone paler than normal; his eyes housed both intense
fury and revulsion. His wand nearly snapped in half from his strong grip.
"You..." Lord Voldemort hissed. "You...indecent little...you've abandoned me
for...for this, this shameful act!" He gripped Tom around the neck. "Did you
enjoy it, filthy boy?"
"I didn't...do anything more than that," Tom said desperately.
Lord Voldemort tightened his grip. "Liar! Did you not share the same bed with
Harry?"
Tom didn't speak until his older self pointed his wand at him threateningly.
"Yes."
"Did you not sleep together?"
Tom moaned. "Yes," he eventually said, knowing that Lord Voldemort would take
the answer to mean something else entirely.
"Did you not touch each other?"
"...yes."
"Little abomination," Lord Voldemort hissed venomously. "Do you know what scum
such as yourself are called?"
"I am very much aware of what I am," Tom responded.
"Do you know what has been done to others like yourself? Your hands won't be
the only parts I will cut off..."
Tom gave an odd chuckle. "Then you should do the same to yourself," he said.
Silence followed. Lord Voldemort regarded him wide-eyed. Tom knew that face
well; he had hit a nerve.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Tom sneered. "We are the same person, aren't we?"
He was thrown back against the wall. Before he could jump back to his feet,
Lord Voldemort screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"
The same excruciating pain shot throughout every vein of Tom's body. His mouth
hung open, but nothing came out. It was too painful to scream. His brain,
heart, and testicles were wringed, crushed, and grinded. His breathing and
sense of sight ceased.
Tom could not remember how long it was before he regained consciousness. The
pain was worse than before. Lord Voldemort was looking down at him, studying
him.
"How did it feel?" he asked. "How did dying feel?"
Tom couldn't move. Lord Voldemort kneeled and examined him closer.
"Did you see anything? Hear any sound, any name calling you?"
Tom couldn't talk. He fought with his body, and only a gurgled moan escaped his
lips. Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Tom's temples.
"Avada Kedavra!"
This time, amongst the pit of agony, Tom heard a voice in the back of his mind
screeching, "Let me out! Get me out of my body! Give me peace at last!"
When he finally regained consciousness, Tom was trembling terribly. The pain
lingered...he wished it would all stop, that he could finally rest...
Am I wishing for death? Tom wondered, shocked. He wanted the pain to end...he
wanted to breathe...
Lord Voldemort was observing him again coldly.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Tom didn't know how long it was before he began breathing again and gained
consciousness.
Lord Voldemort had already stood up. Tom heard a door opening, and two voices
appearing. He was too weak to move. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Let the pain end...
He tried to think of Harry. Harry gave him comfort, so much comfort... bed,
rest, sleep...Harry...
He was not aware that his body was picked up by one of the Death Eaters.
"Take him to the laboratory," Lord Voldemort commanded.
"Yes, master," the two Death Eaters replied. Tom recognized their voices...they
were his school friends!
He killed Marilyn and Eileen! Tom wanted to yell at them, but he was too faint
to move. He closed his eyes, sensing sleep about to envelope him, but he was
suddenly jolted awake. He was thrown to the ground; he was taken outside.
"Freak," Claudius Mulciber said. To Tom's surprise, they were both regarding
him with revolted looks.
"Who'd think he was a fairy as well?" Antonin Dolohov said.
Tom was able to open his mouth, but he couldn't speak.
"I hated everything about that stupid prat," Dolohov continued.
Tom's eyes widened. Weren't they my admirers? Didn't they like me, respect me?
"He was always so cocky," Mulciber added. "Always talked down to me. Do you
remember my name, bastard?"
Yes! Tom wanted to say.
"Merlin, I hate that face of his!" Mulicber suddenly screamed. He kicked Tom in
the face with his heavy boot; blood dribbled down Tom's mouth.
Tom gasped at the pain. He didn't understand...if they hated him, why were they
serving his older self?
"Clau...An..." Tom tried to speak.
They ignored him. Tom felt himself being picked up again. He looked around, and
his jaw dropped. Before him was a coffin.
Powerless, Tom was thrown into the coffin. The lid was thrown down and
magically sealed. He finally found his voice, and he shrieked at the top of his
lungs. It seemed like his body was finally starting up again. He pounded on the
coffin with his hands and feet, all the while shrieking incomprehensible words.
He felt the coffin being lifted, thrown down, and then he heard that terrible
sound.
Dirt was being thrown onto the coffin. He was being buried alive.
"NO!" he shrieked wildly over and over, nearly tearing his vocal chords. His
entire body was trembling brutally. "NO! NO!"
He didn't want to be in the dark forever, forgotten. He didn't want to feel the
insects crawl inside and over his body, eating him. He didn't want to be
powerless!
His hands froze; a tingling sensation had started at the tip of his fingers,
and it spread through his hands and arms...something was happening...
Tom wasn't aware of where he was, what he was doing, who he was...he was still
screaming and thrashing about, but he was also frozen in space...
His heart cried out to let him out, his body begged to stay and rest. He wasn't
in control of his mind...it was acting solely on its own; he was trapped, and
the screams to get out were fading...
Before he lost consciousness, Tom saw a woman's hands reach out for him. His
eyes briefly met hers...
"Tom..."
"Mother..."
                                      ***
"How long do you suppose he’s been having a seizure?" Dolohov asked Mulicber.
They hadn't planned on keeping Tom underground. They knew Tom's greatest fear,
and they wanted to let him experience it.
"I don't care," Mulicber said bitterly. "I hope he gets brain damage!"
"More than what he already has?" Dolohov chuckled. He grabbed Tom by the legs
and dragged him out of the coffin. Neither men bothered to pick the convulsing
boy off the ground as they took him to Pyrite's laboratory.
                                      ***
Harry looked up as two Death Eaters entered.
He didn't see Tom until he was thrown inside the magical barrier.
"Wha- " Harry gasped. The image before him was blurry, but he heard a strange
sound coming from Tom. He whipped back towards the Death Eater, but they had
already left. The lights in the room went out once more.
"Tom!" Harry called out weakly. His voice was strangely hoarse and quiet as
though there was a predator in the pitch-black laboratory waiting to strike.
The sound raised the hair on his arms.
Grand mal.
There used to be an epileptic classmate in Harry's Muggle school. Harry had
witnessed the seizure a couple times, and each time had always left him
slightly shaken. He wasn't supposed to be close to a person in this condition,
but he crawled until his hand brushed against Tom's quivering body.
"Tom...what's happened to you? What did they do to you? Tom?"
Harry gently massaged Tom's arm; the convulsion was subduing. His other hand
found Tom's mouth; he was frothing...
How long has he been like this? Harry wondered worryingly. What did they do to
him to induce this? Is he breathing again? He brought his face down close to
Tom's weakened body.
"Tom," Harry called out gently, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm here,
Tom...I'm here..."
                                      ***
"I'm here, Tom...I'm here..."
Tom could not move, but he felt safe softly wrapped inside his mother's arms.
                                      ***
Everything was happening all too fast for Hermione. One moment, she was
enjoying the game with Ron and the Weasleys. The next, Arthur Weasley was
yelling at them to run away and hide. He had run down to battle, his wand at
the ready, Bill close by. Fred and George had wanted to help, but Mr. Weasley
yelled at them to run for cover.
Ron grabbed Hermione's hand, and they ran down.
"Where should we go?" Hermione gasped. Her mind had gone blank. Everywhere
around her people were falling down, trampling over each other, and getting
struck by curses.
"Here!" Ron shoved her underneath the Quidditch stands. It was a small, cramped
space, but it was their only protection from the pandemonium outside. Hermione
could here a couple of muffled sobs; a few children had found their way inside.
She crawled her way to the front of the stands and peeked outside. Figures in
black were fighting Aurors and other audience members who had run to help.
Hermione could not see everything, but it appeared that a few of the enemies
were retreating.
Ron slipped next to her.
"We have to help Dad," Ron said in a hushed voice as though the enemy outside
could here them among all the shrieks and shouts.
"We can't," Hermione said. "We don't know enough yet..."
She tilted her head until she could get a clear view of the symbol in the night
sky. "The Dark Mark..." she said more to herself, breathing hard. "Those are
Death Eaters out there..."
"Why are they here now?" Ron wondered out loud. "You-Know-Who is still weak,
isn't he?" His face fell. "Riddle!"
"Tom doesn't know these people!" Hermione said. "He doesn't have any contact
with them! He was too busy with Harry, and Harry would have kn - oh God -
Harry!"
"What's wrong?" Ron stared at Hermione's pale face and wide eyes.
"Ron, we have to go to Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione said hurriedly.
"Why?" Ron asked, feeling alarmed. "What's going on? Hermione!"
Hermione was crawling her way back out; Ron grabbed her leg.
"It's still too early!" he said. "There's still some out there!" Hermione
didn't seem to hear him, and when he finally thought that the coast was clear
and let go, she quickly disappeared through the crack. Ron chased after her.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione screamed.
The headmaster was across the Quidditch field. All around Hermione were injured
witches and wizards and bodies; mediwitches and mediwizards were filling the
scene, aiding anyone within their sight. A small group stood around Dumbledore,
all of them talking at once. Mr. Weasley and Bill were among them. Off to the
side, a wizard in a ragged robes and matted hair sat on the grass; he was
wrapped in rope.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione screamed again, catching her headmaster's
attention.
"Sweet Merlin, Hermione - what happened?" Mr. Weasley asked just as Ron finally
caught up. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, watching Hermione concernedly.
"Yes, Hermione?" he asked gently.
Hermione hiccupped. "Harry...Harry was here, Professor." Everyone stared at her
for a stunned second.
"Harry?" Ron questioned, confused. "Harry's back with Riddle, safe. He couldn't
come with us, remember?"
"No, Ron!" Hermione corrected. Tears were pouring down her face. "Harry
convinced Tom to come with him. They used the Invisibility Cloak!"
"He could still be safe," Ron offered hopefully.
Professor Dumbledore sighed, looking at everyone who was with him before
finally replying.
"Lord Voldemort has risen again," he explained to Ron and Hermione. "From what
we have disclosed, he has regained full power. His servants broke out of
Azkaban; they have planned for his return for some time."
"We don't know how he returned," Professor Lupin added, starting to look
worried. He glanced at the man sitting on the grass.
"They were kidnapped!" the man exclaimed angrily.
Hermione whimpered.
"What did I tell you!" the man snarled at Professor Lupin. "I saw Harry! He was
with a boy, a friend, I presume. Tom, you say his name was? They had gone to
the bathroom, and then they were attacked in there!"
Ron's face paled. "Riddle gave Harry to his older self?"
"Tom wouldn't do that," Hermione said.
"Well, how do you know? Just because you think he's handsome doesn't mean he's
-"
"He's had a million chances to just hand him over, Ron, and -"
Professor Dumbledore raised his hand, and everyone fell silent. He turned to
the man sitting on the grass. "Sirius, show us where you saw Harry."
"Yes!" Sirius jumped to his feet. He looked at Professor Lupin expectedly.
"Care to take these off me?"
"He said Peter is still alive," Professor Lupin said.
Sirius snarled. "Fine. Think I'm crazy all you want!" He stormed out the
stadium. Professor Dumbledore commanded some to stay, and the others followed
him.
Ron couldn't stop looking at Hermione.
"Why didn't Harry tell me?" he asked, looking slightly hurt.
"Harry wanted as few people to know as possible," Hermione explained, looking
apologetic. "Besides, you would have hunted down and beaten up Tom."
"Well...yeah," Ron confessed.
"He wanted to surprise you, Ron...he wanted you to be happy to hear that he was
at the game!" More tears dribbled down her face. Ron placed a hand on her
shoulder.
Sirius led them to a public bathroom.
"There!" he screamed maniacally, pointing at the ground in front of the door.
"Look here! That's the Invisibility Cloak James used to own!"
"There's a book here," Ron said, bending down. "Cannibalistic Magi. It looks
like something from Riddle's place."
"Appears like it was tossed aside in a hurry," a young Auror named Tonks
pointed out. The book was lying facedown, and several pages were bent.
"Not something a person would do if he had planned to hand over Harry,"
Professor Lupin mused.
"He would also make sure not to leave evidence behind," Tonks added.
Professor Dumbledore didn't look completely convinced. He turned to Sirius.
"You say you saw Pettigrew?"
"Yes!" Sirius said. "He's still alive!" He marched into the bathroom. "Look
here - who are you?"
Everyone peeked inside. A small boy was hiding in one of the stalls, looking
pale.
"Colin?" Ron asked.
"H-h-h-hi," Colin said to Ron while eyeing Sirius.
"It's okay, Mr. Creevey," Professor Dumbledore said encouragingly.
Colin stepped out of the stall, gripping his camera. "I was coming here for a
break," he explained, glancing at Sirius again. "I saw a huge black dog, and
there was a wizard magically pinning him to the ground." He glanced down at his
camera.
Sirius's jaws dropped, and he stood in front of Colin. "Did you take a
picture?"
"Yes," Colin said, taking a step back from Sirius's feral appearance.
"Give it to me!"
Professor Dumbledore placed a calm hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Colin, give the
photo to me," he said.
"Yes, sir," Colin said. He produced the photo out from his pocket. Everyone
peered at the photo Professor Dumbledore now held.
                                      ***
Remus’s eyes widened. There was Sirius in his dog form, struggling against
magical binds that held him down on the grass. Not too far off was a balding
wizard, but Remus instantly recognized his face.
"It's Peter," he said, feeling as though his heart just plummeted to the floor.
"He's still alive!"
Sirius gave a wild shriek of triumph, starling Colin.
"I don't understand what's going on," Ron said.
"You're an Animagus," Hermione said while wiping a tear away. She looked at
Sirius, and Sirius nodded. "And...I don't know about Peter myself."
"We will explain everything later," Professor Dumbledore assured her.
"And Harry?" Ron demanded.
Sirius pointed across the bathroom to a broken wand on the floor.
Ron groaned loudly.
"He's defenseless!" he said. His face went paler. "And he's in You-Know-Who's
hands!"
"Is he still alive?" he questioned in a tiny voice to no one in particular.
Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. Ron turned to Remus, looking
desperate.
"We will do whatever we can," Remus assured them. He turned around and lifted
the binds off Sirius. He went to apologize, but Sirius brushed him aside.
"I ran away from Azkaban to save my godson," he said gruffly. "You got in the
way."
He stepped out of the bathroom, turning his back away from a very hurt Remus
Lupin.
                                      ***
Harry didn't know how much time had passed. The room was always pitch black
whenever Pyrites wasn't inside, and there were no windows.
He was at a constant war with the Death Eaters. He didn't dare look in any way
affected by their actions and torture, but once Pyrites left and the room was
dark, Harry let his face fall. He was terrified, starving, and shivering.
Tom was awfully silent. Pyrites had taken blood samples from Tom without
needing to restrain him; Harry watched him with disgust. Pyrites was always
very gentle when handling them, as though they were a fascinating bacterial
specimen that had to be treated with utmost care.
They did not bother to feed them. Apparently Lord Voldemort did not find it
worthwhile to feed immortals.
Let us die, Harry prayed while rocking Tom in his arms, the darkness their only
companion. It was all he could do comfort them during the darkest hours of
their lives. Let there be a way for us to die, don't let us feel any more
pain...
"No..." Tom moaned in Harry's arms. Harry hadn't realized he was praying aloud.
He continued to hold Tom.
"Tom?" But Tom had slipped back into unconsciousness.
                                      ***
Ever since Lord Voldemort had spoken with his younger self, he was at a
constant state of unease. He could feel his servants' eyes on him, whispering
amongst themselves about his sexuality. He pushed the matter to the back of his
mind, but it always lingered, dripping ill reminders into his consciousness.
"What are the results, Arrhenius Pyrites?" he questioned.
"Normal in every way," Pyrites reported. "I did several studies, and I did not
find a single atom in their blood that is different from our own. Nothing at
all!"
"Nothing at all?" Lord Voldemort repeated, surprised.
Pyrites nodded, looking thoroughly stunned and awed by his lack of discovery.
"Amazing," he said softly more to himself, "how their bodies are functioning
exactly like our own. What is the key to immortality? What could be the driving
force of -"
Lord Voldemort angrily bit his lower lips until it bled. "Keep working!" he
commanded quickly before Pyrites fell too deep in his own thoughts. "Don't stop
until you find something! Surely there is something different about their
bodies!"
"I could take a small section of their internal organs and observe how they
respond to various potions," Pyrites offered with a dreamy smile.
"Then get back to work! Don't waste any more of my time with your fantasies!"
Pyrites bowed, his mind obviously still elsewhere, and left.
                                      ***
Peter paced in one of the bedrooms, terrified. He was lost for what to do. The
Potter child had saved him, had taken the Cruciatus Curse several times...
I'm in his debt, Peter thought. Master wouldn't want a servant in Potter's
debt. A part of him felt he should pay the boy back in some way; perhaps then
he could still be valuable to Lord Voldemort. But then what if Lord Voldemort,
or anyone else, caught him?
He paused, finally coming to a decision.
                                      ***
It was pitch dark, and Harry was lying on the cold floor trying to fall asleep
when he felt something warm and furry brush across his fingers. The small
creature pushed an object into his hands as though it wanted to give it to him.
"Scabbers?"
He felt around, but the rat was gone. He observed the small, soft, familiar
object in his hand - a piece of bread.
Harry's stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. He was about to put the small piece
into his mouth, but suddenly, turning around, he crawled to Tom.
"Tom, eat," he said. Tom didn't move from his spot. He rarely moved since they
were brought here. He touched Tom's hand; Tom weakly responded.
He can't eat by himself, Harry thought. He bit into the bread and chewed; to
his horror, he found that he was having trouble salivating, but he took his
time, moistening the portion as much as he could. When he was ready, he moved
Tom over on his back, lifted him up with one arm supporting his back, and
opened his mouth. He covered Tom's mouth with his.
Tom got the cue, and he slowly accepted the bolus from Harry. Harry held him,
massaging his arm as he fed his friend, his heart torn at how weak Tom had
become. What have they done to you?
Harry continued feeding Tom, forgetting completely about feeding himself. By
the end, Harry felt Tom's hand grip his own hand. Harry gave Tom a little
squeeze and kissed his forehead, wiping the tear from his cheek before it
dripped onto Tom.
                                      ***
What have they done to you?
Lord Voldemort blinked, puzzled. He was lying in bed in his well-lit chamber, a
thick leather-bound book on his lap, when he suddenly had a vision of a dark
room and a familiar voice speaking softly. He closed his eyes, and the dark
room floated back in his mind.
"Potter..." Lord Voldemort said when he opened his eyes. He was looking through
Harry's eyes...the boy in his arms was the brat, weak and immobile...
Sitting up straighter, Lord Voldemort stared ahead, his mind alit. How had this
happened?
Blood... he quickly thought. The ritual must have created a link between his
mind and the Potter boy. It must have taken a while for the link to become
noticeable.
Sneering, Lord Voldemort rested back. He closed his eyes again and focused on
Harry's mind...
                                      ***
Never in Harry's life had he ever had such violent nightmares. The disturbing
images were so vibrant he thought everything was truly happening. He was
covered in blood, staring helplessly at a table as Pyrites, his white robes
stained in fresh blood, cut Tom down the middle; all Harry could see of Tom was
his hand that hung from the side of the metal table...
Harry was sitting down on a chair, unable to move, watching wide-eyed as Tom's
organs were pulled out and placed inside large jars, his face was turned
towards Harry, vulnerability in his eyes...
This wasn't a dream. This was really happening. A Death Eater, Macnair, had
come into their prison cell and violated Tom's body right next to Harry. Harry
couldn't move for some reason, just watch. And then Macnair took his sharp axe
and brought it to Tom's neck...
Harry jolted awake, panting hard.
"Tom." His voice came out with a little squeak. He rolled over and reached out
for his friend. All he could see before him was black...the afterimage of the
vibrant shade of spilt blood didn't leave his mind.
I'm losing my mind, Harry thought, trembling as he wrapped his arms around his
friend. He tried to steady his breathing while his hand ran through Tom's
disheveled hair. It's just a dream...Tom is okay...
The lights came back on, and Harry instantly let go of Tom. Lord Voldemort and
Pyrites stepped inside.
"Give me the results!" Lord Voldemort ordered, and Pyrites joyfully showed him
the slips of parchment off one of the tables. Had the situation not been so
morbid, Harry would have found it amusing that Pyrites was cheerful about
something that was making Lord Voldemort so irritable.
"It's amazing how much like ourselves the two specimens are," Pyrites reported,
awed by his discovery.
He's mental! Harry thought, raising his eyebrow. Pyrites never failed to stun
him with his behavior.
A corner of Lord Voldemort's mouth twitched.
"What do you suppose we should do next?" Pyrites asked Lord Voldemort as though
they were having a picnic together.
"The answer lies somewhere inside their bodies," Lord Voldemort said. "There
could be no other explanation for this!" He approached them then. "Get up!" he
ordered Tom, but he didn't move from his spot on the floor. "Bastard."
He reached into the barrier, grabbed a mass of Tom's hair, and hoisted him up.
"Watch him closely," he ordered Pyrites. "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry looked the other direction, feeling terrible at his action as though he
had turned his back on Tom. When the spell was lifted, Harry dared to turn
around.
Tom was quivering on the floor, a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. His
hands gripped his testicles in pain.
"Fascinating," Pyrites said, crouching down, his eyes glued on Tom. "His brain
was one of the very few places affected. Note how he isn't breathing." He
glanced down. "I daresay there's even a link in his gonads!"
A chill ran down Harry's spine. They got two out of three places correct...
"Shall I perform the spell once more?" Lord Voldemort offered.
"NO!" Harry screamed angrily, surprising himself. He crawled to Tom's side.
"Lay off him! You've hurt him enough already, scum!"
"Language, Potter!" Lord Voldemort threatened, pointing his wand at him. Next
to him, Pyrites observed Harry with curiosity.
"Go ahead. Curse me," Harry challenged boldly. Lord Voldemort raised his wand.
"Avada -"
Harry was suddenly knocked backwards. Tom had thrown himself on top of Harry,
shielding him.
"Tom..." Harry quietly said. It looked like it had taken all of Tom's energy to
move. He was fighting not to pass out.
"How sweet," Pyrites said, snickering. "There appears to be an attraction
between the two samplings." Lord Voldemort ignored him.
"Do you wish to receive another round?" Lord Voldemort said threatening to Tom.
"I do not think your body can handle it." Tom tightened his arms around Harry,
refusing to move.
Harry closed his eyes tight.
"Let him curse me," Harry whispered. "Just let him do it and get it over with!"
But Tom didn't move.
"Enough wasting my time!" Lord Voldemort suddenly said. "I believe you have
gotten a good idea of the matter, Pyrites? We will start by removing his
brain."
Harry shivered. "You can't!" he said desperately, his mind shooting towards the
closet with the jars. "You can't! Can't he...can't he have any other use for
you?"
Lord Voldemort ignored him.
"How does it feel, child, to know that you will be greatly helping your true
self?" Lord Voldemort said. "I could almost forgive you for
your...absurdity..."
Harry felt Tom quivering above him; he was frightened, but he still didn't let
go of Harry.
"I smell fear..." Lord Voldemort said in a quiet voice. "Yes, you will
experience the closest thing to death for my cause, little one. You will
understand, I am sure." He laughed coldly again. "Does this remind you of
another time when you were an inch from death? Does this open up any old
wounds?"
Harry furrowed his eyebrow, confused.
"I am about to introduce you to a spell invented by Severus Snape when he was
at Hogwarts. He had his mother's talent." Lord Voldemort waved his arm and
cried out "Sectumsempra!"
Before he knew it, Harry, the floor, and the walls were covered in blood. Tom
went limp and collapsed on top of Harry. Harry sat up, holding Tom,
horrorstruck.
The long scar that ran down Tom's back was gashed open, and blood was pouring
out at an alarming rate.
"Merlin!" Harry could barely speak. Lord Voldemort was draining Tom...his skin
had gone pale...
The barriers at that moment were lifted. Lord Voldemort and Pyrites were making
their way towards them...
Harry gripped Tom, visibly shivering.
Please, let us get away! Harry prayed desperately. He was never active in any
religion, and he didn't know how to pray, if there was any correct way of doing
so, but his heart kept screaming, praying for anyone, anything. Take us away!
Take us away! Save him! Save Tom! TOM!
And then the strangest thing happened. A white light slowly grew from Harry's
middle, expanding until it engulfed himself and the unconscious Tom. Lord
Voldemort and Pyrites stepped back. Lord Voldemort hissed painfully as though
he was scalded from the blinding white light.
And as quickly as it happened, the light disappeared, revealing an empty spot
where Harry and Tom had just been.
***** Chapter Fourteen - Harry's Greatest Power *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                               Chapter Fourteen
                            Harry's Greatest Power
                                        
                        "Never pretend to a love which
                      you do not actually feel, for love
                           is not ours to command."
                                 - Alan Watts
                                     *****
Harry had no idea what had happened. A blinding white light had engulfed them
both, and now he was sitting on the middle of a sidewalk, Tom still bleeding in
his arms.
Squinting, Harry looked around. He didn't recognize the quiet neighborhood they
had landed in. Had he come here for a reason? He staggered, suddenly realizing
how fatigued he was.
He could vaguely make out the shape of someone walking in the opposite
direction. By the sound of his humming, he was not paying attention to them,
merrily going along on his way. Harry gathered his strength; Tom's skin was
getting cold and clammy...
"Help." His voice was barely audible. Harry tried again. His body felt as
though it was falling apart.
The man took notice of them and approached. Harry squinted, looking at a
vaguely familiar face. The man's balding head and moustache reminded him of a
walrus...
"Help us," Harry said weakly. "He's bleeding...injured..."
The man kept staring at them, stunned. His eyes briefly lingered on Harry's
forehead, instantly recognizing him, before falling on the boy in Harry's arms.
"Sweet Merlin - Tom!"
His grocery bags fell to the ground. Harry felt himself being helped to his
feet. He could barely stand, but he fought to keep his balance as he helped Tom
into the man's arms.
"What happened? Are you okay, Harry Potter?" the man questioned worriedly as he
headed for a nearby house. Harry followed closely, but he could not speak.
Walking was difficult. He looked down and saw just how much blood he was
drenched in.
He wanted to say that he was fine, that the blood on his clothes was not his,
but the fatigue had become too much to endure. He collapsed right then, and
everything went black.
                                      ***
Horace Slughorn was at a loss for what to do. Harry Potter was unconscious on
the floor, and an infamous former student was bleeding in his arms. What had
happened? Why did Tom Riddle look like he hadn’t aged a day since school? Why
was Harry Potter trying to get him to safety?
Slughorn whipped out his wand from his pocket and magicked Harry off the floor.
He rushed the two boys into his house and straight into his work room. The two
chairs that stood side by side were transfigured into small beds. Harry was
settled on one, and with a quick examination, Slughorn concluded that Harry was
in stable condition.
He settled Tom on the other bed; Tom's skin had gone very pale, alarming
Slughorn. He didn't have much time. He relieved Tom of his tainted robes and
healed all the wounds he could find. Noticing a line of blood dripping down his
lips, Slughorn opened Tom's mouth and healed the cut on his tongue.
When he was done sealing the wounds, Slughorn hurried to the cabinet where he
kept a stock of every potion and antidote imaginable.
The vial of phoenix blood was in the far left corner. Slughorn had never
thought he would one day use it. He ran back to Tom, raised him up, and tipped
the vial into his mouth. He settled Tom back on the bed, felt his pulse, and
added more until the boy's skin felt warm in his hand.
Slughorn breathed a sigh of relief. He stared at Tom, astonished. He had used
up more than half of the small vial.
Tom should have been dead.
He moved closer, examining Tom. It really was him; he was not imagining it.
"The Horcrux," he said under his breath, shaking his head.
A moan averted his attention. Harry was stirring, looking severely pained.
"How do you feel?" Slughorn asked Harry.
"T...tired..." Harry's voice was barely audible. He shifted his head until he
could see Tom.
"He's going to be fine," Slughorn assured Harry. "You both need to get to St.
Mungo’s. It's the wizarding hospital," he added when Harry looked confused.
"No!" Harry begged, his eyes wide. "Don't...don't take us there. They'll hurt
him..."
Slughorn furrowed his eyebrows, but he quickly came up with a plan. With a
flick of his wand, the scar on Harry's face disappeared and his eyes changed to
dark brown.
"Wha-"
"You're safe now," Slughorn said promptly before heading to the fireplace. He
knew exactly who to contact. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, he threw it
into the fire and called out, "Edwin Linford!"
A wizard in lime green robes appeared out of the flames. He dusted the soot off
his robes and regarded Slughorn with a big smile.
"Edwin, my boy!" Slughorn greeted, giving him a joyful pat on the shoulder.
"Good day, Professor," Healer Linford said. "How may I assist you? I do hope
you are not feeling ill."
"Oh no, this call isn't for me," Slughorn said, motioning to the two boys.
"These two brothers were harshly abused."
"Terrible," Healer Linford said sadly as he approached them. He glanced at
Harry, but gave no indication that he recognized him. "By Death Eaters, I
presume. They have been attacking our community with vigor since their leader's
return a fortnight ago."
So that's how long we were prisoners, Harry thought as Healer Linford gave him
a quick look over before turning his attention to Tom.
"He lost a large amount of blood," Slughorn explained as Healer Linford
carefully examined the unconscious boy. Harry kept his eyes on the Healer's
face, watching his furrowed eyebrows and concerned eyes.
"He had a seizure," Harry blurted out.
"Has he ever had one before?" Healer Linford asked.
"No," Harry said. Behind Healer Linford, Slughorn also shook his head.
"Post traumatic epilepsy," Healer Linford diagnosed. He waved his wand around
Tom head while one thumb massaged Tom's temple. "He suffered minor bleeding in
the brain."
Harry bit his lip.
"It's amazing," Healer Linford said after casting more spells. "Damage is bare
minimum despite the hemorrhage. Your brother is very lucky." Healer Linford
cradled Tom in one arm as though he was an infant, and with his other wand, he
traced around Tom's forehead. He chanted what appeared to be a song under his
breath, his eyes flashing a pale, whitish blue.
"Problem fixed," the healer said with a final wave of his wand. "How are you
feeling, young lad?" he whispered to Tom affectionately. Harry smiled sadly;
Tom looked so vulnerable at that moment. His eyes scanned around in a daze,
looking slightly confused at where he was and at being held by an unfamiliar
person as though he were a small child.
"W-who are you?" he demanded tiredly when he regained full consciousness. Harry
could not suppress a small laugh.
"He's himself," Harry said.
"I am the Head Healer of the Non-Magical Injuries department," Healer Linford
informed Tom kindly. "Do you have a headache right now?"
"No," Tom responded, trying to break from the Healer's arms.
"Good. Now get some rest. You'll be fine by tomorrow," Healer Linford said as
he finally set Tom back on the bed. He searched through the deep pockets on his
lime green robes and pulled out several miniature thin vials, each full of a
different colored liquid.
"Take this once a day for the next three days so you won't relapse," Healer
Linford instructed. "And you will need to take this right now." He shoved one
of the vials into Tom's mouth without warning. Almost instantly, Tom fell
asleep.
Satisfied with his work, Healer Linford turned to Harry. Harry allowed the
Healer to examine him, assured that he was not recognizable. Slughorn watched
them with a little anxiety now.
"I never asked for your names," Healer Linford told Harry, smiling at him.
"Edwin," Slughorn started, "you cannot reveal the names of these two boys to
the public."
Healer Linford glanced at Slughorn.
"Our parents were murdered by the Death Eaters," Harry butted in, regaining
Healer Linford's attention. "They let us watch..." Harry allowed his voice to
crack, and he glanced at his feet briefly before continuing. Healer Linford was
watching him sympathetically. "We're Muggle-born, and they'll recognize our
last name."
"They could hurt these boys severely if they knew about their whereabouts,"
Slughorn added.
"We have no one left," Harry said. "I...I'm scared what they could do to me and
my brother if they found us. Father angered them - he's very brave - and they
were very angry at us. They almost killed my brother..."
"Do not fear, your names will not be in any record," Healer Linford assured
him. "I will not even ask for them. Goodness, have you thought of contacting
Professor Dumbledore, Professor Slughorn? These boys have been targeted! They
need shelter."
"He will be contacted," Slughorn promised. He gave Harry an approving nod when
Healer Linford's back was turned.
Harry thought he was lucky to have Professor Slughorn on his side. From what he
knew of Tom's old professor, he had many connections, and Harry was sure that
Healer Linford would not have agreed to keep the names off record if he did not
have connections with Slughorn.
"How did you escape?" Slughorn asked after Healer Linford had left.
"I don't know," Harry said truthfully, yawning. His fabricated story to Healer
Linford had taken an enormous amount of his energy to concoct and deliver
convincingly. Ever since he had appeared on this neighborhood, he had been
extremely fatigued. A little prickling feeling on his forehead told Harry that
his disguise had disintegrated.
"Rest, my boy," Slughorn said, observing Harry's tired face. "We'll talk
later."
Harry nodded, wishing his body did not feel like it was falling apart. He made
himself comfortable on the bed, and he turned his head towards Tom. Before he
let sleep take him, Harry stretched out his right arm and wrapped his weak
fingers around Tom's thin hand.
                                      ***
Harry woke up in an unfamiliar room. Instead of the walls being lined with
potion ingredients, jars, and vials, he was in what was unmistakably a bedroom.
His energy was returning, so he sat up; Tom, however, was not sleeping nearby.
"Tom," he called softly. He scanned around the room, squinting, trying to make
out the blurry shapes that were across the room.
"Tom's sleeping in the next room," Slughorn informed as he entered the room.
"He needs plenty of rest." He was holding two packages in his arms. "I took the
liberty of making bedrooms for you two as I don't think you should be leaving
anytime soon. And I've bought a set of clothes for Tom and you. I hope I got
your sizes right." He handed Harry one package.
"Thanks," Harry said, feeling guilty that someone he did not know well spent so
much time and money on him.
"It is no problem at all," Slughorn said cheerfully before leaving the room,
allowing Harry to change in private. He threw on his robes quickly and made for
the room next door, where Tom was still sound asleep. Slughorn wasn't around;
Tom's package was on the bedside cabinet. Harry gently caressed Tom's hand, but
he did not stir. Bending over, Harry brushed a kiss on Tom's cheek before
heading out the room.
He took the time to observe the home they now inhabited, taking in as much as
he could without his glasses. The house was small yet extremely cozy. Small
expensive vases and plates lined the shelves, and all over the walls were
framed pictures of Slughorn with people Harry assumed were his former students.
Slughorn was in the living room waiting for him. A teapot and a tray of
biscuits sat on the coffee table; Harry's stomach rumbled.
"Have a seat, my boy," Slughorn invited him heartedly. Harry nodded and settled
down. He had seen Slughorn in Tom's memories before, but to meet him in person
felt odd, like he both knew and did not know him. Slughorn must have taken the
awkward silence to mean shyness, because he gave a good chuckle.
"You're as modest as people have told me!" he said while handing Harry a cup of
tea. "Please, take a biscuit."
"Thank you," Harry said. It took all his effort not to gulp down the entire
plate.
"I don't believe I've introduced myself," Slughorn said. "I am Horace Slughorn;
I was Tom's professor and Head of Slytherin house."
"I know," Harry said half-absentmindedly.
"Do you?" Slughorn said, laughing again.
"Yes - Tom told me."
"Has he now? I bet Tom has said a lot of good things about me." He grinned.
"Er...yeah."
Slughorn's face fell. "Do you know who Tom is, Harry?"
"He's Voldemort," Harry said casually. Slughorn winced.
"I would have handed him over to the Ministry by now," Slughorn confessed, "but
you were with him, desperate to get him to safety. But it's strange to see him
still so young after so many years have gone by."
"He came out of a diary," Harry explained. "He had enchanted it and was living
in there."
Slughorn had suddenly become very pale; Harry watched him briefly before
continuing. "Thank you for not handing him over. He's my friend." Harry
suddenly wished Ron and Hermione were here. His body still ached, but he put it
out of his mind. They were safe now...
"How did you save him? What really happened?"
"I don't know how I saved him, but..." Harry said truthfully. He stared at
Slughorn.
"Do you trust me, Harry?"
Harry nodded, and he told Slughorn everything that had happened since Tom
emerged from the diary except for the immortality spell and the extent of their
relationship. When he finished, Slughorn sat deep in thought before he finally
spoke.
"That is very interesting, Harry," Slughorn said. "You are the only person I
have ever known to become this close to Tom. When I knew him, he had friends at
Hogwarts, or shall I say admirers? Professor Dumbledore never believed them to
be real friends. Come to think of it, Tom never exposed much of his past to
anyone...except to you."
"I'm his friend," Harry said. "A true friend."
"You must mean a lot to Tom for him to change the way he treated you."
Oh, you have no idea, Harry thought, smiling. A thought abruptly came to his
mind. "Professor, do you know how there are two Toms around?"
Just then, two hands settled firmly on his shoulder. Harry craned his neck to
catch a glimpse of Tom just as Slughorn jumped to his feet.
"You're awake! Here, sit down, I'll help you..."
"I-I don't n-n-n-n-need to be e-e-escorted," Tom said, but Harry had to agree
with Slughorn. Tom's face was pale, and he still looked tired. His hands shook
slightly. Slughorn settled Tom on the couch adjacent to where Harry sat. Harry
wanted to sit next to Tom and hold him, but he thought the better of it.
Slughorn produced a potion vial from his pockets and gave it to Tom, who took
it grudgingly.
Slughorn reclaimed his seat, and he and Harry watched Tom. Healer Linford had
said that Tom would be fine, but Harry still worried what the torture and
seizure could have done to his mind. What if he refused to take the potions
Healer Linford had prescribed? He silently encouraged Tom to drink it. From the
looks of it, Tom needed the potion.
"You're wondering how...how I came to be in the diary," Tom said to Harry with
a small smile. He broke off every few words and had to take a breath. Despite
his trembling and weakness, he was still holding himself proudly as always. "I
never told you...I'm sure Professor Slughorn can...guess what I have done."
Slughorn's face had gone pale again. "You've done it then?" he said, sounding
terribly upset.
"Done what?" Harry asked.
"Harry...the diary was a Horcrux," Tom explained. "I put a part of my soul...in
the diary..."
"Horcrux?" Harry repeated, confused. He had never heard the word before.
"It's the darkest form of magic!" Slughorn spoke up. "A wizard murders in order
to preserve part of his soul in an object! The act of murder rips the human
soul apart. It's the worst act against nature!"
Tom chuckled. Harry just stared at him.
"That's why you're as alive as your older self!" Harry said. "Half of you is
here, and the other half is -"
Tom suddenly laughed again.
"How many, Tom?" Slughorn demanded angrily.
Tom smiled before replying. "I made two Horcruxes...that night."
"You split your soul into three parts?" Harry asked, getting angrier every
minute.
"No...I planned on seven. If I was successful...there could very well be...more
of me out there."
"SEVEN?" Harry jumped from his seat, enraged. "You spilt your soul into seven
pieces? Are you out of your bloody mind?" He paused. "Don't answer that," Harry
said, seething at Tom's calm, smiling face. "And you knew this?" Harry turned
to Slughorn.
"He gave me some information about Horcruxes while I was at school," Tom said
before Slughorn could speak.
"I'm not proud of it!" Slughorn quickly said. He looked terrified, his face
pale. "I...I should have taken the boy straight to Professor Dippet after he
came to me with this nonsense talk!"
"How much did you tell him?" Harry demanded, his eyes boring into Slughorn's.
"He only verified that more than one Horcrux can be made," Tom said with a
chuckle. "I did most of the research, so go easy on him, Harry."
Harry rounded on Tom. "Where is the other Horcrux?" he asked after a while.
"I do not know what happened to any of the Horcruxes," Tom said. His breathing
was returning to normal. "My soul was the first to leave my old body. I do not
know what happened after that point."
"What other objects did you use?" Slughorn questioned.
"I will not disclose any information for you to carry to Dumbledore!" Tom
suddenly snapped, straightening up in his seat. Harry and Slughorn exchanged
surprised looks before Harry turned to Tom.
"Tom...what was that all about?" Harry asked, sitting down again.
"Don't think that I am on Dumbledore's side now that I had a conflict with my
older self," Tom said bitterly. "I want nothing to do with either man."
"We're at war at this moment," Slughorn said desperately. "It's not going to be
easy avoiding Dumbledore, Tom. I am on his side, for one thing. You both need
protection."
"I can protect myself," Tom said stubbornly.
"I'll take Professor Dumbledore's protection," Harry said boldly. "Tom will
follow." His friend shot him a threatening look, but Harry ignored him. Eager
to change the subject, Harry added, "What happened since the Quidditch World
Cup?"
"It was dreadful," Slughorn said gravely. "A gang of Death Eaters attacked the
stadium and killed everyone in their path."
"No!" Harry gasped. Tom leaned forward, listening intently.
"I'm lucky I wasn't there," Slughorn continued. "I had tickets, of course, but
I had to give them up at last minute. Fortunately, Albus Dumbledore was there,
as were many people from the Order of the Phoenix - I'll explain more about the
Order later, Harry. A number of attendants and a few of the Quidditch players
themselves ran to aid Dumbledore. Every contribution was valued. Nobody had
expected such a huge number of Death Eaters to just materialize and kill
everyone they could. It was a brutal fight. Witches and wizards from both sides
were killed or injured. The Death Eaters retreated, leaving their injured or
dead comrades behind."
"Who got killed?" Harry asked nervously.
"There was a Yaxley - he was a Death Eater," Slughorn started, thinking back on
the names he'd read on the Daily Prophet.
"Anyone named Hermione Granger or any Weasley?" Harry interrupted.
"There was a Hermione," Slughorn said. Seeing Harry's horrified face, he
quickly added, "She was a two year old girl. Forgot which family she's from.
And I haven't heard about any Weasleys getting hurt."
"Oh," Harry said, so relieved that it wasn't his friend. They're safe, thank
goodness, he thought. Slughorn smiled sympathetically at Harry.
"Your friends?" he said.
"Yes, I love them both," Harry said.
Tom gave a small irritable twitch. "What has my older self been doing since
then?" he asked.
"As I said before, we're at war," Slughorn said. "Deaths are being reported on
a daily basis. You-Know-Who and his army have taken us all by surprise. Of
course, Dumbledore always expected him to rise back to power, but none of us
expected to see some of the most dangerous Death Eaters escape from Azkaban.
The number of You-Know-Who's supporters has increased significantly."
"So we're not really winning the war, are we?" Harry asked, frowning.
"I won't lie to you and say we are, Harry," Slughorn said sadly. "You-Know-Who
has gathered supporters from the werewolves, giants, and Dementors, among
others...the entire wizarding world is startled at how much power and how many
allies he was able to gather underneath our noses."
"I have always been very clever," Tom interjected. "I am not surprised that my
older self was able to achieve so much without a proper body."
Slughorn's moustache twitched in amusement. "We're having trouble keeping the
Muggles from noticing. Thus far only the Muggle Minister has been informed;
he's got to know what's going on in his country."
They sat in silence for a while. The plate of biscuits was empty, and the last
of the tea lay cold in the teapot.
"I don't think we can go back to our home," Harry finally broke the silence.
"Where do you live?" Slughorn asked.
"I cannot tell you where," Harry replied. "Tom and I lived there since he,
well, kidnapped me."
"It would be best if you remained here with me."
"Our home is secured with every spell imaginable," Tom argued.
"But you both are without wands," Slughorn pointed out, "and it is mighty
difficult to get a new wand these days. It's best for you two stay with me.
Dumbledore will protect you."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said firmly before Tom could argue again.
                                      ***
Slughorn gradually found out about Tom and Harry's relationship. It was the
little things that eventually gave them away. Slughorn did not witness the
nights when Harry snuck out from his room, slipped into the room next door,
snuggled under the covers, and held Tom in his arms as they carried on
conversations in whispers throughout the night.
However, he noticed the way their hands lingered when they touched and the
shared looks they gave each other that were so familiar to Slughorn. It was as
though, for a split second, they lived in a world separate from everyone
else's. Slughorn used to share these looks with someone the exact same way when
he was in love.
Should I be surprised about this? Slughorn pondered one day while glossing over
a Potions book, checking up on an recipe. Earlier that day, Tom and Harry were
settled in the family room when Tom picked up Slughorn's box of crystallized
pineapple.
"He's still eating them," Slughorn had heard Tom say to Harry with a chuckle.
"He never gets tired of them. Here." At that point Slughorn took a peek as Tom
took one of the pieces and slipped it into Harry's mouth; Harry closed his lips
around Tom's thumb, and Tom let his thumb linger inside while one finger traced
Harry's jaws. Neither were aware that Slughorn witnessed their private moment
together.
Tom hadn’t ever expressed much interest in any of the girls who goggled over
him at Hogwarts, Slughorn noted. It could very well have been because his
interests lay somewhere else.
But he had many male friends, and he never showed interest in them either,
Slughorn reminded himself before he carefully reread one line in the Potions
book. Whatever it was, Harry had unlocked something inside the boy. His
influence, although it did not stop Tom from throwing sarcastic comments and
acting haughty around the house, had tamed him enough so that he did not run
back to their dwelling.
And then there were days when Tom completely closed up. Active conversations at
the dinner table between Slughorn and Harry were marked by Tom’s strange
silence. Harry sensed it as well, and he would keep an eye on him, watching his
friend like a hawk.
One early morning, Slughorn found the boys lying together in bed. He quickly
glanced at them and then looked away, not wanting to be rude. Tom was sleeping
straight on his back, his arms and legs to himself and his head facing away
from Harry, who slept on his side with his arms and legs wrapped around Tom's
body and his head rested near Tom's shoulder.
It was Tom's sleeping position that disturbed Slughorn more, especially now
that he knew of the boys' relationship. It was as though even in his sleep,
Harry was fighting to shatter the iciness that was slowly dominating Tom...
Something's not right, Slughorn wondered while his eyes lingered back at the
stiffness of Tom's body, but he pushed the thought out of his mind.
                                      ***
"I love you," Harry said a voice so quiet Tom could barely here him. He kissed
him tenderly, although Tom returned each act of tenderness with no interest. "I
love you...I love you..."
"No more, Harry," Tom said tiredly before burying his face in the pillow. Harry
sighed, but he kept his arms and legs wrapped around Tom, watching him. He
moved closer and continued to gently caress Tom, but he stopped when the loving
acts resulted in Tom falling asleep.
Harry sighed. Tom had appeared fine during the first few days after they
arrived at Slughorn's house, but something was slowly boiling up inside him,
and it now threatened to consume him. Harry refused to let Tom slip through his
fingers, not when he’d worked so hard to get him to open up...
"What happened, Tom?" he asked worriedly. Harry was becoming increasingly
concerned about Tom's reservation with each new day. "What did they do to you?
What made you have a seizure, Tom? What made you suffer so many days after they
hurt you?"
Tom did not respond, and Harry sighed again, but he refused to shift away from
Tom. It was their nightly battle; Harry fought to keep Tom open to him, while
Tom fought to close up completely.
In the end, it was Harry who won. Harry, who was so determined to get Tom back
to him that he'd resort to waking Tom up from his sleep with gently kisses and
caresses, stubbornly refusing to move away even with Tom's exhausted demands to
get off him.
Tom was annoyed with Harry constantly bothering him. Couldn't the brat see that
Tom didn't want to talk to anyone? Yet despite his anger at Harry, Tom also
wanted to tell him. Hadn't they shared so much of their past already, lived it
through the other's eyes? Sooner or later Harry would witness what Tom had
experienced with his older self and his Death Eaters...wouldn't it be better to
tell him rather to have Harry find out that way?
After yet another night, he finally broke his resolve. Tom was lying with his
back to Harry, his shoulders hunched up, part of him still wishing that Harry
would get away from him. But he listened to Harry as his voice slowly became
more slurred. Sleep was finally getting to him...
"I don...wan...you...to suffer...a...lone..." Harry said drowsily.
"Please...Tom..." The grip on Tom's body lightened. Tom waited until he was
sure Harry was asleep. He let his shoulder fall; he could not keep running away
from Harry, and a small part of him wanted to talk to him...
"They buried me alive," Tom said in a low voice, half-hoping Harry could not
hear him. "It was the most terrifying moment of my life. I went into
convulsions. I don't know why, most likely a combination of the Killing Curse
and my fear."
He paused. "I saw my mother."
Did Harry's arms just tighten around him?
"I...I think I was experiencing death," Tom continued, unsuccessful in keeping
his voice steady. "Why else would I have seen her? I was wobbling on the line
between life and death, but the spell kept me sealed in my body...
"...I wished I would die. I actually wished for death."
He grew quiet. Harry's arms had tightened themselves around him again. For one
wild moment, Tom wanted to turn around and squeeze Harry tightly in his arms.
He quickly felt like kicking himself for wanting to show so much emotion and
fear at the memory of being six feet under.
You're getting too soft, boy, Tom told himself angrily. You're stronger than
that.
The next morning, Tom woke up in Harry's arms; they were facing each other once
more, their legs entwined, Tom's left hand next to Harry's mess of hair, and
Harry's hand resting lazily on Tom's right wrist. This was how it used to be.
When Harry opened his eyes, they stared at each other. Neither spoke, but Tom
knew that Harry had heard his confession last night from the slight nod he gave
him and his intense gaze.
They shared a kiss before getting up for the day, Tom's secret left behind in
the entangled bed sheets.
                                      ***
The following morning, Harry was heading for the kitchen when he heard Slughorn
conversing in the living room.
"Yes, Albus, my thoughts exactly."
Harry took a peek inside just as the green flames distinguished.
"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn greeted cheerfully as he made his way out the living
room. "Good morning!"
"Were you speaking to Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked as they walked
together to the kitchen. Tom was still upstairs sleeping. "I just heard the
last part," Harry quickly added, hoping he did not come off as intrusive.
Slughorn chuckled heartily. "I was, Harry," he said. With a wave of his wand,
eggs flew out of the refrigerator and cracked open in midair. The yolk landed
neatly in the frying pan. "We were discussing the way you and Tom escaped."
"Oh," Harry said while he helped Slughorn prepare the table. "What did
Professor Dumbledore say?"
"Well, you used magic that most wizards cannot normally do without the aid of a
wand," Slughorn explained. "And not only that, it's not a spell that's in any
textbook you could learn from."
"So what was it?"
"You willed something to happen," Slughorn said. "That's normal for witches and
wizards. We all can make magic happen if we are very emotional -" Harry
remembered the time he’d made his hair grow back after Aunt Petunia gave him a
hideous haircut "-however, what makes your case so interesting is the
complexity of what you did.
"You transported yourself and Tom right into a place where you could receive
help from someone you could trust. That's very impressive," Slughorn finished.
He turned and looked at Harry. "What were you feeling or thinking before it
happened?"
"I was terrified," Harry confessed, deciding that it was best to share all of
his feelings at the time if it meant they would learn more about what he had
done. "Voldemort and Pyrites were coming at us. I kept hoping we would get
away. I was very scared for Tom; he was quickly losing a lot of blood."
"Anything else?"
"I wanted nothing more than to get Tom to safety," Harry added. "All I could do
was think of him."
"That's what Albus and I concluded," Slughorn said with a nod. He turned off
the stove, transferred the eggs and bacon to a large plate, and set it on the
table. "Your powerful emotions made you take Tom to safety, and they brought
you two to me. Out of all the places you could have landed in the world, it was
a few feet away from my house. Albus and I believe this is all connected to
your feelings for Tom. I know how you feel for him, Harry," he added when
Harry's eyes widened slightly.
"Uh..." Harry said, feeling stupid.
Slughorn chuckled. "Albus has noticed something in you that was confirmed the
day when you showed up on this block. You have an incredible amount of love in
you. It was your love that gave you the power to get out of there. If I must
say, I believe love is your greatest power."
"Love saved Tom and me?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
"From what you've told me, yes," Slughorn said. "Love is more powerful than
you're giving it credit for, Harry. It can be the most powerful force behind a
spell."
"So I'm full of love," Harry said, his mind floating up to the bed he shared
with Tom. "Explains why I could like him so much even after everything that
he's done..."
                                      ***
To Harry's delight, they were to get him a new pair of glasses after breakfast.
They could not do so before because of the war. Special arrangements had to be
made just to ensure Harry's safety.
"Good," Harry said after Slughorn gave him the news. "I can finally go back to
appreciating the details in life." He quickly cast Tom a wink. He had been
teasing his friend that he wanted to be closer to him because he could not see
him properly.
"You're just a blur from here," Harry used to say with a little smile. "Come
closer so I can see if that's a smile you have plastered on."
After breakfast, Tom watched Slughorn as he placed disguising charms on Harry.
"You should do the same on Tom," Harry said as his scar disappeared, his eyes
turned brown, and his hair curled and lightened. "He's in as much danger as I
am."
"I'd like to see them try to attack me," Tom said smugly.
"Yeah, without a wand," Harry muttered although he could not disguise a smile
at Tom's arrogance. "Why are we going to Diagon Alley, professor? Wouldn't a
Muggle place be better?"
"Diagon Alley's safer," Slughorn explained. "Yes, the Death Eaters have
attacked Muggle towns. There are witches and wizards willing to rush to our aid
if we're attacked. There's also the Order."
"Shouldn't they also guard the Muggle areas?"
"They are, but it's harder to keep everything in check when you don't want to
expose this world to the Muggles."
Harry nodded, understand. "Are we going to get any wands?" he next asked
Slughorn.
"Not today," he said, throwing a quick odd glance at Tom. "Ollivander's shop
was attacked, you know that. Wands need to be ordered, and there's a long
waiting list. Extremely few people have the know-how to make wands, and they
are not revealing their names to the public; it's an extremely complicated
process that requires talent."
"But we will get wands eventually, won't we?" Harry asked.
"Dumbledore's on it," Slughorn said hastily. Tom raised an eyebrow, but he said
nothing.
Diagon Alley was different from how Harry remembered it two years ago. Several
shops stood vacant; Ollivander's shop was closed, and the wand Harry remembered
seeing next to the window was gone. The road was not as crowded as it was
before. He caught Tom glance longingly in the direction of Knockturn Alley.
"There has to be another way to get a wand now," Tom muttered in Parseltongue.
"You're not going to do anything stupid," Harry contradicted, and he gripped
Tom's wrist.
"Oh, yes, let me sit pretty while precious Dumbledore works everything out!"
Tom spat.
"Here we are," Slughorn said, interrupting their argument. The shop was so
small that Harry would have passed it up had he not known where it was located.
There was no door, but there were a couple of chairs for the costumers to sit
on, and on the other side of the table sat a very ancient wizard with white
eyes. Behind him and inside the cabinets of the table were rows of eyeglass
frames.
"Good day, Ping Qiu," Slughorn greeted.
"Hello," Qiu said in a wheezing voice. "Are you here for a new pair of
glasses?"
"Not for me, but for Harry," Slughorn said.
"Please take a seat, Harry," Qiu said kindly although he did not look at Harry.
Still gripping Tom's wrist, Harry dragged him to the set of chairs.
He's blind! Harry realized after he settled down, Tom and Slughorn on either
side of him. Qiu made a few odd clicking sounds with his tongue as he stretched
out his hand.
"Please, lean forward," he ordered. "Are you comfortable?"
"Yes," Harry said. While still making those clicking sounds, Qiu gently cupped
Harry's face in his hands. He brought his hands forward until they were right
in front of Harry's eyes. Harry did everything the wizard told him to do,
listening as the wizard muttered spells. Harry felt a small gust of wind fly
past his eyes, and he had to restrain himself from jumping backward when he
felt a sudden bout of wind hit him squarely on both eyes. He wanted to make the
process as easy as possible for the blind man.
"All done," Qiu said kindly after several minutes. He moved and settled each of
his hand on Harry's ears. Then he took his wand, which was connected to a piece
of rope that hung around his neck, and magically beckoned a bin full of frames
in Harry's size. "Please choose a frame while I make your lenses."
"Thank you," Harry said. He glanced at Tom, who was watching Qiu with interest.
Slughorn was thoroughly impressed. Harry rummaged through the frames and tried
several on while Qiu made tiny waving movements around two lenses.
"I should get this one," Harry said, smiling mischievously as he tried on a
pair of half-moon spectacles. He smiled at Tom. "Now all I have to do is grow a
white beard, and I'll look just like your best friend!"
"Please don't," Tom said with a groan, swiping the glass frame off Harry's
face. Harry laughed. He found pair of round frames that closely resembled his
old pair, except that they weren’t held together by tape in the middle.
"I want this one," he said. "I'm comfortable with this style."
"Have you chosen?" Qiu asked.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, sliding the frame into Qiu's reach.
With a few complicated twirls of Qiu's wand, accompanied by more clicking
sounds, the lenses formed and shaped themselves into the frames.
"Thank you," Harry said when Qiu handed him his new glasses. He slipped them on
and surveyed his surroundings.
"How are they?" Tom asked, smiling at him.
"They’re perfect," Harry said, amazed at the wizard's skill. The world was no
longer a big blurry screen; he could now discern every detail around him.
"Thank you, sir!"
"My pleasure, Harry," Qiu responded, smiling in Harry's direction.
"He sees with sound," Tom said after they had paid and were making their way
back to The Leaky Cauldron. "Human echolocation; I'm impressed."
Harry turned to Tom; Slughorn was a couple feet away from them.
"How do you like it?" Harry asked.
"It's you," Tom said, and he dared a quick kiss on the lips.
                                      ***
Up on the second story landing, standing in the shadows, Lord Voldemort
observed the people gathered below. There were his loyal Death Eaters and his
supporters, the old and new, as well as several witches and wizards waiting to
receive their Dark Mark.
However, Lord Voldemort's mind was not on his achievement of gathering more
followers. His thoughts continually drifted back to what he had seen during the
nights between his disgusting younger self and that brat he shamelessly enjoyed
locking lips with.
A corner of his mouth twitched as the revolting images resurfaced in his mind.
His younger self's behavior had struck a chord inside him. While he watched the
crowd below, Voldemort pondered over his own sexuality. Was his younger self
simply being foolish or was he, Voldemort, in fact a homosexual?
He did not mind the silent looks of his followers as they gossiped amongst
themselves about their leader; the knowledge of what he was capable of doing if
they angered him was enough to render them silent and respectful.
However, there was still something he had to prove to himself...
"I want her in my private chambers," he spoke suddenly to the Death Eater
closest to him while pointing at one of the newcomers below. The Death Eater
nodded, and Voldemort made his way to his room. He did not have to wait long;
there was a knock, and the Death Eater entered, closely followed by a witch.
"Thank you," Voldemort said shortly. "You may leave." The Death Eater nodded
before leaving, closing the door behind him. Voldemort surveyed the girl,
wanting to take in everything although it was a little hard for she had worn
her hood, covering her hair and part of her face. From what Voldemort could
see, she appeared to be in her early twenties, and she was watching him with
both fear and relief on her face.
Lord Voldemort gave her a smile, slightly alarmed that nothing inside him
stirred while he observed her. "What is your name, miss?"
"G-g-g-good day, my l-l-l-lord," she said shakily. "M-m-my name is V-v-vivian
Yaxley."
"Yaxley's daughter," Voldemort said, nodding. "Your father's death was noble."
Something changed on Vivian's face. "My father was murdered," she said weakly.
Her fearful bright blue eyes didn't leave his. "An Auror killed him. And I
never knew my mother..."
Voldemort raised a hand. "Don't cry," he said. "You are still too young to
understand, Vivian." He spoke as kindly and softly as he could, and it worked.
He needed her for his little experiment, and he could not carry it out if she
cried. "I understand your pain; I was an orphan shortly after my birth. But you
will not be alone. I can protect you."
Vivian vigorously nodded. "Please," she said, "I have nowhere else to go!"
Voldemort surveyed her again, mentally counting the seconds before speaking
again. "Please, dear Vivian, take your hood off. Let me see you."
Vivian obeyed, and her long wavy auburn hair spilled over her shoulders.
Voldemort was suddenly reminded of Dumbledore with her hair and face...a
feminine, young version of Dumbledore...
The Yaxleys and Dumbledores are very closely related, Voldemort thought
bitterly, briefly regretting his decision. But he could not back out now. The
girl was without parents, and she was seeking protection from him; this was his
perfect opportunity. She could prove a very vital fact Voldemort wanted to
uncover.
"Oh, where are my manners?" Voldemort said. "Please, sit down, Vivian." He
pulled up a chair in front of him, and he rested back and watched as the witch,
trembling nervously, settled herself in front of him.
Voldemort spent an hour asking her questions, getting to understand as much as
he could of her past, all the while trying to make this private meeting as
official as he could. After all, she was to receive the Dark Mark. As the time
withered away, he grew more alarmingly aware of his lack of reaction to her.
Any other man would have said Vivian was beautiful and many would have found
her naïve nature endearing, but Voldemort felt none of that.
When he felt it was appropriate, he commenced the ritual. Normally the
receiving of the Dark Mark was a public event with the rest of the Death Eaters
in attendance, but Voldemort needed the opportunity to get closer to her.
He brought her to his bedroom and made her sit on his bed while he performed
the spells, careful to be gentle with her. When it was over, she was gripping
the bedpost with one arm, wincing at the sting. Voldemort pulled her arm
towards him, massaging the Dark Mark soothingly.
"It will heal quickly," he said.
She looked at him with wide eyes. "Am I under your protection now?" she asked
unnecessarily. What a dimwitted girl, Voldemort thought.
"Yes," Voldemort said. To his delight, she inched forward, glanced at him
shyly, and then slowly brought her arms around him in a hug. "There is one
thing I would like you to do for me, Vivian," he said. "Are you willing to do
anything I ask of you?"
"Anything," Vivian said immediately. Such gullibility...
But nothing happened. Voldemort grew increasingly worried, and no matter how
much he concentrated on her pale and smooth body underneath him, he could not
achieve the same ecstasy his younger self had experienced while he touched
himself. It was the same thing as had occurred with Rosier; he needed to
wordlessly cast spells to keep from embarrassing himself in front of her.
Nothing, Voldemort thought, disappointed and terrified as they laid in bed
afterwards. Vivian was watching him shyly, the bed covers covering her up to
her nose. Voldemort ignored her as he tried to sort everything in his mind.
He could have tried sexual relations with a male Death Eater to see how his
body reacted, but Voldemort dismissed the idea out of hand. I am not a
homosexual, he insisted to himself. I simply lack the weakness toward women –
yes, weakness – that lesser men bear.
Instead, Voldemort diagnosed his younger self as a disgraceful fool who had let
himself be wrapped around Potter's finger. Perhaps being stuck in a diary for
fifty years had altered his mind, or perhaps the immortality spell had resulted
in unexpected side-effects. Either way, it did not affect Voldemort himself.
He turned onto his side and met Vivian’s eyes. Though he found her insipid, a
relationship with a girl from a proud pure-blooded lineage would set an
appropriate example for his followers and lay to rest any other...concerns they
might have.
The very next day, without any true emotion in his voice, Lord Voldemort
announced that Vivian Yaxley and he were engaged.
                                     *****
Author's Notes: Human echolocation is a true phenomenon that very few humans
possess. You can read more about this amazing ability here. A five-part
documentary of the boy who inspired Ping Qiu is available for viewing here.
***** Chapter Fifteen - Lady Luna *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                Chapter Fifteen
                                   Lady Luna
                                        
                    "Never injure a friend, even in jest."
                                   - Cicero
                                     *****
"They said my greatest power is love," Harry told Tom later that night as they
lay side by side on the bed watching the moonlight on the ceiling. "Professor
Slughorn said that I have a lot of love." He grinned. "It was my love that
saved you." He gave a short laugh.
"You don't think it's possible?" Tom asked.
"Tom...the idea is just silly," Harry said.
"No, not really silly," Tom said after a moment of silence. "I am by no means
an expert on love, but I do understand that love is an emotion. It's a form of
energy, and energy is required to do magic. It's one of the first principles of
magical theory."
"I guess that makes sense," Harry said. "Sometimes when I'm angry strange
things happen. So the energy from my anger made magic?"
"Strong emotions," Tom said. "When you have a very powerful emotion inside you,
it generates a lot of energy. I should know...the things I did when I was an
angry, small boy. It can be draining."
"Is that why I was so exhausted after I took us away from Pyrites's
laboratory?"
"You used up a vast amount of your energy," Tom said. "Very few wizards can
handle doing magic using so much of their own energy. Many die from it. To be
able to do powerful magic without your wand, especially a spell I haven't
taught you yet, is impressive...if you can work more on this talent..."
He fell into a contemplative silence, and Harry, after staring at the ceiling,
lost in his own thoughts, finally fell asleep.
                                      ***
On the Saturday morning when they were to be collected, Harry and Tom ate
breakfast silently with Slughorn. Harry's mind buzzed at the thought of
reuniting with Ron and Hermione while Tom simply stared at the wall in front of
them with a bored and haughty expression on his handsome face. Harry's eyes
drooped slightly; he could barely sleep last night.
The school year had already started, and they were to return to Hogwarts. The
protective wards around the school were significantly strengthened so that all
of its inhabitants were ensured safety. Professor Dumbledore had ordered that
Harry and Tom were to go there, and Harry happily obliged. He would be back
with his friends and back at Hogwarts.
Harry was about to ask Tom a question when they suddenly heard a loud "Horace
Slughorn!" coming from a nearby room.
"They're early!" Slughorn said, surprised. Jumping from his seat, he sprinted
to the room the voice came from.
"They weren't supposed to come for another hour," Tom said, staring at the
porridge Slughorn left behind.
"What made them change their minds?" Harry wondered, looking around. Tom bit
his lower lip, and his dark eyes narrowed dangerously; he suddenly looked
tense.
Harry got his answer the moment Professor Dumbledore appeared in the breakfast
room, looking grave; Slughorn was pale. Ministry officials were right beside
them, including the Minister himself.
"Arrest him," Cornelius Fudge ordered the Aurors, pointing at Tom.
Tom and Harry sprang to their feet at the same time.
"Don't!" Harry yelled, quickly stepping in front of Tom, blocking the Aurors.
He moved back, pushing Tom until he was pressed against the corner wall. Tom
gripped his shoulders, stopping him from pushing him back any further.
"Stand aside, Potter," one of the Aurors commanded. "This wizard is accused of
the murder of an eleven-year-old girl, the attempted murder of yourself,
terrorizing the school, and abduction!"
"He will be going straight to Azkaban!" another Auror added.
"No!" Harry yelled before Tom could retort.
"Let me handle this!" Tom hissed angrily at Harry, but he ignored him.
"Professor!" Harry called out pleadingly.
"Harry, I'm afraid it's out of my hands," Professor Dumbledore said gently,
walking up to the two boys. "The evidence against him is undisputable."
"Oh, you would love to see me in prison," Tom grumbled, glaring at Professor
Dumbledore.
"Shut up!" Harry warned him.
Dumbledore continued as though he was not interrupted. "Harry, there is no
denying that he murdered Ginny Weasley -"
"He didn't kill Ginny!" Harry declared, his heart pounding. "She was already
dead by the time I reached the Chamber!" His heart ached. Of course Tom killed
Ginny; he had even suffocated her to speed the process...
"So who killed her?"
"I don't know!" Harry said quickly. "I already told you; she was dead when I
came there! But Tom had nothing to do with it!"
One of the Aurors laughed. "A likely story!"
"And the basilisk?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"The basilisk ate Ginny," Harry said while his mind painfully replayed watching
Tom throw the small body to the gigantic snake's awaiting mouth.
"Where was Tom during all this time?"
"He came out of the diary and kidnapped me."
"Just like that?"
"Well, no. I tried to fight him off."
"Did he command the basilisk to attack the school?"
"I don't know," Harry said truthfully. "I was unconscious by then."
Professor Dumbledore studied him.
"Innocent till proven guilty," Harry continued, ignoring Tom behind him. His
stomach squirmed with guilt; Tom was guilty of all charges...why was he, Harry,
doing this?
Don't put him in Azkaban, Harry thought pleadingly, and not for the first time
he felt as though Professor Dumbledore was looking into his mind. I nearly lost
him when we were with his older self; I am the only one that can control
him...don't let me lose that control...
Professor Dumbledore's eyes continued lingering on Harry's for a few moments
before he turned around and faced Fudge.
"The boy has a point," Professor Dumbledore said. "We must investigate the
matter further before making the final verdict. As Chief Warlock of the
Wizengamot, I order a court hearing on Tom Riddle's case."
"Thanks," Tom spat bitterly to Harry in their tongue while the Minister and
Professor Dumbledore further discussed the issue.
"You're not getting thrown into Azkaban," Harry pointed out. "You have time to
convince them to let you go."
"Yes, I will have great fun working on my trial case," Tom said sarcastically.
"Oh, am I glad you're so thankful for me helping you!" Harry replied just as
sarcastically, hurt.
"I do not need your help!"
"Then should I tell Professor Dumbledore what really happened?"
"Harry?" Professor Dumbledore's voice interrupted their argument. Harry spun
around to see that the Minister and Aurors were watching them.
"Sorry," Harry said, completely ignoring Tom.
                                      ***
After Fudge and the Aurors left, Harry was next approached on the subject of
wands.
"I'm getting my wand now?" Harry said, unable to suppress a grin. Tom broke out
of his reverie and stared at them.
"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling. "Follow me."
Tom stood up. Slughorn suddenly looked tense.
"Tom..." he said. "You...you're not getting a wand."
"Why not?" Tom demanded, glaring at his former professor.
"While you were arguing with Harry, Fudge made a deal," Professor Dumbledore
explained, watching Tom calmly. "You are labeled as a criminal, and whether or
not you go to Azkaban, you are still deemed a threat to others. You will not be
given a wand."
Harry's jaw dropped slightly, his earlier argument with Tom forgotten.
"But how can he protect himself if we're attacked?" he asked.
"As long as Tom stays within Hogwarts' walls, he will not find himself in such
a situation," Professor Dumbledore replied.
Tom glared at Professor Dumbledore. "I'm a hostage then, confined inside your
despicable school?"
"Tom, this is out of my hands," Professor Dumbledore said firmly. "Either you
go to Azkaban or you stay in Hogwarts without a wand. These were the Minister's
orders, not my own."
"Don't tell me you would have done anything differently!" Tom laughed darkly.
"You would leave me without a wand, wouldn't you? You never liked me right from
the beginning!"
"You can borrow my wand!" Harry said. "I don't think that's against the rules,
is it, Professor?"
"The Minister did not mention anything of the sort," Professor Dumbledore
replied. "Shall we get going, Harry?"
Tom took a step further.
"I don't care what the Minister orders!" he said loudly. "You're giving me a
wand!"
Before Harry could speak, Professor Dumbledore pointed his wand at Tom. Tom
froze, but he still managed to cast Professor Dumbledore a filthy look.
"Don't force me to hurt you," Professor Dumbledore warned calmly. "There is
only one reason I will not harm you." He nodded at Harry.
Professor Dumbledore moved his arm, and Tom, as though he were some rag doll,
was dragged off to the nearest chair and settled down. Harry didn't object.
"Filthy little scum," Tom spat at Harry, glaring at him.
"Tom, it's not the end of the world," Harry said exasperatedly. "Maybe you'll
get a wand later on. Just calm down."
Tom opened his mouth, ready to snap back, but Harry quickly spun around and
ordered Professor Dumbledore, "Silence him."
Looking a little surprised, Professor Dumbledore performed the spell, and no
sound came out of Tom's gaping mouth. Harry left for the living room, fully
aware of the deadly glare Tom was shooting at him.
"Keep him company, Horace," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Certainly," Slughorn said, looking just as surprised at Harry's command.
"That did not go well at all," Harry said under his breath as Professor
Dumbledore caught up with him. "I'm sorry, Professor. Sometimes Tom can be so
volatile."
"I understand," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "I knew him very well when he
was my student."
"You used to always keep an eye on him," Harry said, smiling. "Tom told me. He
didn't like it at all." Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, I don't blame
you. I'm doing the same thing just to keep him in check, and it's not easy.
He's such a handful."
"Horace told me about how you escaped," Professor Dumbledore said. "Did he tell
you about our conversation?"
"Yes," Harry said, and his heart instantly shot up to his throat.
"I have decided that, for your sake, I will not put Tom in harm's way,"
Professor Dumbledore said. "My animosity towards young Tom is not as blind as
he thinks it is."
"Thanks," Harry said shakily. It was a small comfort that Professor Dumbledore
didn't think he was odd for loving a man.
"And Harry, while I am supportive of everything you do, I must also advise
you."
"Yes, Professor."
"Think deeply about what you are doing. Protect yourself."
"I understand, Professor," Harry said sincerely, smiling. He felt guilty for
not telling Professor Dumbledore about the immortality spell. "I've lasted this
long with him; I'll be fine."
Professor Dumbledore looked as though he wanted to speak again, but he closed
his mouth and gently shook his head.
Two witches were waiting for them in another room. One was old and appeared
eccentric, and the other was a woman still in her twenties.
Harry's mind traveled back to Tom, and the feeling of guilt grew worse. He
barely heard what the two witches were saying as they took measurements of his
arms, hands, and shoulders. His mind was so absorbed in Tom that he did not pay
attention as they guided his hand over several branches, eventually picking up
the branch that quivered underneath Harry's hand. They whirled a piece of holly
in midair, singing complicated spells and shaping it into a sturdy wand, but
Harry was too lost in his thoughts to watch.
A brush against his cheek revived Harry from his reverie. He turned around to
see a familiar large bird looking at him.
"Fawkes!"
Professor Dumbledore chuckled. Harry almost forgot he was there. "Shortly after
you bought your first wand, Ollivander contacted me. The feather in your old
wand had come from Fawkes. He had given only two feathers for wand-making. On
this special request, he will be offering another feather for you."
"Oh," Harry said as he remembered something. "Ollivander told me that Voldemort
had the other wand." He lowered his voice. "Professor, can't we just go ahead
and make one for him?"
"And when the Minister finds out, Tom will be sent straight to Azkaban,"
Professor Dumbledore said. "He has too many charges against him as it is."
"Okay," Harry said, disheartened. He was feeling so bad that when his new wand
was handed to him, he politely thanked the witches and pocketed his wand
without much of a glance at it.
"We will be heading to Hogwarts soon," Professor Dumbledore said. Harry nodded
and went back to the breakfast room.
The table had been cleared. A nervous-looking Slughorn was sitting beside Tom,
carrying on a one-way conversation. Tom looked lethal.
"We're going to Hogwarts now," Harry told Tom, who regarded him with flashing
red eyes. "Take the spells off," he told Slughorn. Looking hesitant, Slughorn
obeyed. Instantly, Tom jumped from his seat and ran up the stairs.
"Let me take care of this," Harry said to Slughorn and Professor Dumbledore,
who had just entered the room. He ran to Tom's room and grabbed the bedroom
door from the side before Tom shut it closed.
"Get out of my sight!" Tom yelled at him in their tongue. "Filthy little
traitor!"
"Oh, jeez," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I was trying to calm you down, you
idiot!"
Before Harry knew it, Tom slapped him hard across the face.
"For someone who has an IQ that can compete with Einstein’s, you can be pretty
thick sometimes," Harry continued, standing firmly in his place. The skin where
he had been slapped stung. "You understand that you deserve to go to Azkaban
for what you did to Ginny? I saved you down there. I bought you enough time to
make a good defense case, not that I think you have much going for you, but
you'll find something. Or should I go back down there and have them arrest
you?"
Tom didn't respond, but he kept glaring at Harry. Harry sighed; Tom tore his
eyes away and got his small luggage bag ready. There wasn't much to do; his bag
was as small as Harry's.
Harry watched him with a frown his hand grasped the handle of his bag. He
couldn't stand any more quarrels with Tom.
"Let's go," Harry said when they were ready, and there was something in the
tired and quiet tone of his voice that seemed to calm Tom.
Professor Dumbledore and Slughorn were both watching the doorway, waiting for
them, when they entered the room. Slughorn looked a little anxious; Harry had
to remind himself that they had heard them screaming in Parseltongue, so they
had no way to tell what had gone on up there.
"Everything all right, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Yeah, I think so," Harry said. Tom ignored Professor Dumbledore.
"I have reserved a Ministry car for your journey," Professor Dumbledore
explained. "It will ensure our safety on our journey to Hogwarts."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said.
"It was wonderful having you in my house," Slughorn said, getting up and
shaking Harry's hand. "Please, don't be a stranger. Come over again, okay?"
"Sure, yes, of course," Harry said. Tom merely nodded, not taking his
professor's hand.
Professor Dumbledore led them outside to where an old-fashioned, dark green car
was waiting for them. Two Ministry for Magic workers stood around the car, and
they helped Tom and Harry with their luggage.
They settled down in the comfortable back seats with Professor Dumbledore on
one side and Tom on the other. Harry sat between them, looking from one man to
the other. Tom pretended to be interested in the scenery outside his window
while Professor Dumbledore studied him from the corner of his eye.
The journey to Hogwarts was uneventful. The car drove at high speed, slipping
neatly between two Muggle vehicles and not once hitting a lamppost or a
building.
Tom slipped his arm around Harry's waist and tried to drag him in his
direction. Harry resisted, pushing towards Dumbledore's direction; he smiled at
the tiny hiss of annoyance he heard from his friend.
Halfway through their trip, Professor Dumbledore felt Harry collapse on his
lap, snoozing quietly.
"Oh dear," he chuckled, hoisting Harry up. "He fell in the wrong direction." He
moved Harry gently until his head was resting on Tom's lap. Tom looked startled
at Professor Dumbledore's actions for a second. He stole a fleeting glance at
his former professor before looking back out the window.
Professor Dumbledore settled back in his seat. Tom's hands were occupied in
Harry's messy hair, although he did not look at him. His movements were rather
aggressive, almost hurtful. Professor Dumbledore was about to stop him, but he
decided to keep studying him. Tom strongly reminded him of a child playing
possessively with a toy.
It was a long while later when Tom turned around and met Professor Dumbledore's
gaze. His eyes narrowed, a hint of bright red visible.
"We have arrived," Professor Dumbledore said calmly, ignoring the dangerous
look Tom gave him. "Perhaps we should wake him."
An odd, sinister smile seeped across Tom's face. He lowered his head and
brought his lips to Harry. Professor Dumbledore watched him stoically. When he
got no reaction from his former professor, Tom pulled away, clearly annoyed. He
shook Harry awake.
"Stoooop," Harry groaned, his eyes lazily opening up. He caught sight of
Professor Dumbledore and he stood up. "Are we there?"
"Yes, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling. "Your friends are waiting for
you."
Harry's face lit up, and he slid off Tom's lap. Tom looked as though he
regretted waking Harry.
They had arrived in front of Hogwarts' gates. Professor Dumbledore walked
between the two boys as they made their way to the massive castle. Two Ministry
workers walked behind them, keeping guard.
"Is that even necessary, Professor?" Harry asked, referring to the Ministry
workers.
"We do not wish to take any chances," Professor Dumbledore explained. The late
afternoon sky was turning shades of orange and ruby red. "Ah, we are just in
time for dinner."
"Do we have to be in the Great Hall?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling queasy.
From experience, he did not want to be in the vicinity of a large group of
students when all conversations were surely going to center around him.
"No, you will be dining in Professor McGonagall's room," Professor Dumbledore
said, smiling in a way that told Harry he knew what was going through Harry's
mind.
A majority of the students appeared to already be in the Great Hall when Tom,
Harry, and Professor Dumbledore entered through the large oak doors, because
there wasn’t a student in sight. Professor Dumbledore thanked the Ministry
workers and bid them good evening. Hoisting their luggage, Tom and Harry
followed Professor Dumbledore up the staircase to the first level and down a
corridor.
Professor Dumbledore knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door. "Minerva?
The boys have arrived."
The door opened to reveal Harry's Transfiguration teacher.
"Albus," she greeted with a nod. "I do hope there were no problems on the way
here?"
"No problems, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Harry, they're waiting for you inside," Professor McGonagall said next, her
eyes not leaving him. She looked as though she was holding something back. She
determinedly did not look at Tom.
With a nod, Harry went inside, closely followed by Tom and Professor
Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall closed the door.
Her office had been altered for this occasion. Her desk was cleared, magically
stretched out to accommodate the numerous plates and cups that lay on top. A
sofa sat on one side of the room, and on the sofa were the two people Harry
most wanted to see again.
Ron and Hermione had been watching the doorway eagerly, and when Harry
appeared, they jumped up from the sofa. Their eyes locked for several seconds.
"Hi guys," Harry said, smiling and giving them a little wave. Both of their
faces were pale. Then suddenly, Hermione lunged at Harry. Ron ran after her.
No words came from her mouth. She hugged him very tightly, and the tears just
poured down, wetting Harry's robes. He looked up to see Ron standing there
awkwardly. Harry knew what was going on, and he stretched out his arm in
invitation. After biting his lower lip, Ron stepped closer and hugged Harry
tightly as well.
Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably.
"Hermione, really now," Professor McGonagall said, coaxing her to break away
from Harry. "He is all right!"
"I...I was so scared, Harry!" Hermione wailed, wiping her face with her arm.
"They had abducted you, and no one except me knew you were there, and we saw
your wand broken, and...and the damage they caused at the World Cup...I was so
terrified they would kill you!" She covered her face in her hands.
"But I'm okay, Hermione," Harry said reassuringly, patting her shoulder.
"She's been in a frantic state ever since that day," Ron said. "She keeps
breaking into tears. I told her she had to be strong!"
"Oh, be strong!" Hermione nearly shrieked. "You didn't sleep for three nights!"
"You didn't?" Harry asked, looking at Ron.
"Well...yeah," Ron said, blushing. Harry was very touched by this. "I mean, we
didn't hear anything about you for several days. You had no way of protecting
yourself...and then we heard news you were being tortured..." Ron's lower lip
shook briefly. "I was really worried you were gone, mate."
"Tom saved me," Harry said, turning around to motion at his friend. Tom had
been standing a couple of feet away from them, watching the events with
narrowed eyes. Harry hoped this moment would thaw the iciness between his
friends and Tom. "Voldemort was about to tear me in half, but he shielded me.
The curse hit him instead. There was blood everywhere; his back was spilt in
half."
Hermione gasped; Ron just stared at Tom, not saying anything. Professor
Dumbledore simply nodded, but Professor McGonagall was looking at Tom as though
she had never seen him before.
"You risked your own life?" she said in an astonished voice. Tom merely looked
the other direction, clearly having no desire to talk to anyone.
However, this did not discourage Hermione. She ran to Tom and threw her arms
around him.
"Thank you," she said, burying her face in his chest. Tom stared at Harry, then
at Hermione, then at Harry again, uncertain what to do. Harry laughed.
"She's being grateful that you saved my butt," Harry said. Tom continued
staring at Hermione as though she were a strange creature on his robes.
Finally, he gave her one small pat on her back.
Harry heard Ron snicker; he was watching Tom's expression.
"Is he really that clueless about these things?" he whispered to Harry.
"You have no idea," Harry whispered back.
Professor Dumbledore had to leave for the Great Hall, but he saw to it that
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Tom were seated and comfortable before leaving.
Professor McGonagall dined with them and kept on eye on them.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept putting their forks down, too unfocused to eat
when there was so much they wanted to tell each other.
"Dad said the Ministry and Hogwarts were planning on holding a tournament
here," Ron was saying. "The Triwizard Tournament."
"The Triwizard Tournament used to be held once every four years between three
magical schools," Hermione added. "They stopped the tournament after 1792. The
cockatrice the champions were supposed to catch injured all of the schools'
heads."
"Anyway, they were thinking of bringing it back," Ron said, "but the attack at
the Cup ended all of their plans. Pity really; it would have been nice seeing
the other schools."
"Yeah, it would have," Harry said.
"They used to have it in my time," Tom said under his breath, but everyone
turned to him. "It's overrated. The champions were all idiots." He did not look
at any of them, but continued to eat.
"You only say that because you were too young," Harry mumbled.
"Really now," Professor McGonagall said. "Your dinners are getting cold!"
"Sorry, Professor," Ron said. He took a piece from his steak, but then he put
his fork down and asked Harry another question. Professor McGonagall smiled
despite herself.
"Well, at least Mr. Riddle is not neglecting his nourishment," she informed
them. Tom ignored her; Harry laughed.
"That's because he never passes up a meal," Harry said teasingly. "He really,
really loves to eat."
Tom lowered his fork and looked at Harry. Harry had grabbed Tom's free hand
under the table.
"I will be telling Ron and Hermione about us," Harry told Tom in their
language.
"You'll lose your friends," Tom said, smiling sinisterly.
"I won't lose them!" Harry argued, although he did feel slightly hurt.
After dinner, Tom's temporarily good mood crumbled when the subject of sleeping
arrangements was brought up.
"I am not going to sleep in the vicinity of dozens of moronic Gryffindors!" Tom
yelled heatedly at Harry.
Harry sighed. He was foolish to think he would go back to the days of sleeping
in the comfortable warm Gryffindor dorm room with Ron.
"You know I can't leave you," Harry said to Tom.
"I don't care," Tom said. "I'm not stepping one foot in that filthy common
room!" Harry turned to Professor Dumbledore for help. He had returned after
most of the students had left the Great Hall.
"There is another option," he said.
"I'm not going to the Slytherin common room!" Harry quickly interjected.
"I am not speaking of the Slytherin common room, Harry," Professor Dumbledore
said calmly. He turned to Professor McGonagall and nodded. She returned the
nod.
"I will get their rooms set up," she said before leaving.
"Oh," Hermione said when the door closed. "You're sending them to the third
floor?"
"What's special about it?" Harry asked, remembering his first year.
"We didn't tell you yet," Ron said, "but there are other people living at
Hogwarts now."
"What?"
"Hogwarts, with its many powerful shields and wards, has become a refuge to
those who have lost their homes or are at high risk of getting attacked,"
Professor Dumbledore explained. "Perhaps you remember the forbidden corridor in
your first year?"
"Yes," Harry said. He would never forget going down the trap door and through
the various challenges the Hogwarts professors had set up.
"This corridor, as well as the chambers underneath it, have been transformed to
shelter the refugees."
Tom stared at Professor Dumbledore. "You're keeping civilians in this school?"
he said incredulously. "Wouldn't they distract your precious students from
their studies?"
"We've never seen or heard them," Hermione answered. "We can't enter their side
of the school, but we know they are there."
"How can you be sure you can trust them?" Harry asked.
"I have my reasons," Professor Dumbledore simply said. "Professor McGonagall
should be done right about now. Follow me."
Harry met Tom's eyes, then his friends', and they filed out of the office. On
the right side of the third floor landing, a wall had been constructed over the
entrance to the former forbidden corridor.
So that's how Professor Dumbledore's keeping out the refugees, Harry thought,
watching as the old wizard waved his wand in a complicated pattern over the
wall. The rocks moved aside, forming an archway. Harry was reminded of Diagon
Alley.
Stepping inside, Harry gasped. The forbidden corridor no longer looked like it
belonged to the school. It seemed as though they had stepped into an alley of
an ancient city. Looking up, Harry noticed that the sky was enchanted just like
the Great Hall. On both sides of the alley were what appeared to be small one-
story houses made of hard rock. The only thing that separate one house from
another was a single wall, and another row of houses stood above the first row.
An ancient-looking stairway led to the upper homes.
Harry looked around for any of the refugees, but apparently they were all in
their protective homes making the most of whatever was left of the day.
"Over here," Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully. Professor McGonagall was
waiting for them in front of one of the small houses. Harry noticed that there
were no numbers in front of any of the residences. He deduced that it was for
privacy reasons.
"Thank you, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said, and he led Harry, Ron,
Hermione, and Tom into the small house. "I will take things from here."
The dwelling was small inside but comfortable. The living room and kitchen were
merged together. Harry had the distinct impression that he was living in an
ancient city far away. He set his luggage aside and looked at Tom, smiling.
"Welcome to Mesopotamia," he said.
"I expected better treatment for I, Anu," Tom said, setting his luggage beside
Harry's. Hermione smiled.
To their far left was a very short corridor that led to the bathroom. There
were two bedrooms, one on each side of the corridor.
"Oh, separate beds?" Harry said without thinking. His eyes widened, and he
quickly looked at Professor Dumbledore, who was right next to him and had heard
this comment. His face reddened. "Uh...I mean...um...we didn't do anything,
Professor, honest!"
Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "You do understand that you are still too young,
Harry?"
"I...of course..." Harry said in a tiny voice, feeling terribly embarrassed. He
wished the floor would swallow him whole. "I just got used to us being
together, that's all..."
Ron and Hermione helped him unpack, although there was not much. Tom refused
any help, but he watched Harry's friends with jealousy clearly visible in his
eyes. Professor Dumbledore kept an eye on Tom, and this annoyed Tom very much.
However, Harry didn't seemed bothered.
"This place isn't bad," Harry said when they were done.
"It is best not to explore too much," Professor Dumbledore advised. "Do not
forget many of the residents here know who you are, Harry, and they will corner
you with many questions."
Harry nodded.
"There is no reason left for me to be here," Professor Dumbledore said. "Ron,
Hermione, if you will follow me."
"Professor, can I spend more time with them?" Harry asked. "I want to talk with
them...privately." He gave Tom a significant look.
"Of course, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. He turned to Ron and Hermione.
"I cannot tell you how you can exit, but I will be waiting for you outside."
Ron and Hermione nodded. Tom turned to Harry.
"I'll stay here," he said, settling on the couch.
"Okay," Harry said. He took Ron and Hermione's arms and led them to his
bedroom. Closing the door, Harry took a deep breath; his heart was beating very
fast. Tom knew that Harry was going to talk about their relationship, but he
did not know what else Harry was going to reveal...
Ron and Hermione were sitting on one side of Harry's bed, and Harry settled
himself on the other side.
"There are things I've been keeping from you," Harry started, cautious to keep
his voice down. "I could not tell you because I didn't want you to worry. I
have not even told Professor Dumbledore this...but I think it's time I should
say this."
Ron and Hermione leaned forward.
"What is it?" Ron asked, watching Harry's worried face.
"Ron, Hermione...you don't know how much this has affected me," Harry said.
"Tom did something the day he brought me to that manor..."
                                      ***
Ron and Hermione were still staring at Harry long after he finished his story,
their mouths hanging open. Harry had told everything concerning the spell; he
told them how the spell was performed, although he admitted he did not know the
full steps of the ritual. He explained how Tom had suffered the Killing Curse
several times, how Pyrites had done experiments on them in hopes of unlocking
mysteries of immortality...
However, he purposely left out one detail.
Ron was the first to speak.
"Harry..." he said in a quiet voice, "I don't know what to say...this is
awful..."
"Oh my goodness," Hermione finally said. "There's no way to reverse the spell?"
"Nothing I or he knows of," Harry said gloomily. "I'm stuck in this body
against my will. Who knows; sometime in the future a nuclear war will happen, a
bomb will be dropped near me, but I'll still be stuck in a stupid contaminated
body. There's no way I can die. I can feel the pain, but I cannot regenerate
like the way immortals do in Muggle movies." He laughed lightly. "Imagine me,
if I break my spine, living an eternity in a wheelchair drinking pain-relieving
potions. Who wants that?"
"Don't think this way," Ron said sympathetically.
Hermione patted Harry's hand. "We have to tell Professor Dumbledore," she said.
"He needs to know why you were taken into Pyrites's laboratory."
"Not now," Harry said.
"So that's why you weren't killed," Ron said. "We had thought he would kill
you...I thought Riddle would turn you in..." He looked at Harry apologetically.
"You-Know-Who must have been very angry when he found out," Hermione said.
"He's still mortal, to a degree."
"Yeah, very angry..." Harry repeated. "There was another reason why he tortured
us."
"Was it because of Tom?" Hermione asked.
Harry felt his face grow hot. "Yes," he said. "There is something about the
immortality spell I haven't told you yet." He took a deep breath; his heart had
shot up to his throat, pounding painfully. This was it; he could not keep his
friends in the dark any longer. Ron and Hermione sensed his nervousness, and
they leaned forward again, both looking apprehensive.
"That spell...because we took in three kinds of liquids from the other's body,
it seems like it created some kind of portal between us," Harry began. "When we
sleep, we get these strange visions. It was like we were reliving each other's
lives. I saw into Tom's life, but it wasn't like any dream I have ever had.
Sometimes I was Tom...I could smell and touch everything around me. Sometimes I
saw parts of his life Tom himself did not remember. I watched him being born...
"Tom hated this connection, especially after that dream, but I used it to try
to understand him more."
"That's why you're friends with him!" Ron commented.
Harry nodded. "I used the dreams to try and teach him about love and
friendship. He didn't understand even the basics of friendship." Harry laughed
at the memory of the first days of their lessons. "This is why Voldemort is who
he is today. He neither understands nor likes love. He's so empty inside that
even if the entire wizarding world including his Death Eaters were to get
killed, he wouldn't grieve for one moment. Tom was just like that. Look at what
he did to me. He used me just to gain immortality; I was just a tool to him."
And I forgave him, Harry added in his mind sadly.
"You were able to get through to him," Hermione pointed out. "He considers you
a friend, and only you can persuade him." She looked at the bedroom door as
though she could see the young wizard beyond it. "If you could only do the same
with his older self..."
"It wasn't easy getting to that point," Harry said. "The only difference
between the two was a hair-thin humanness inside Tom! Tom is as much a monster
as his older self is! Except...I was able to reach that tiny human side of him.
I don't think his older self has that anymore..."
"Of course he wouldn't," Ron said. "You-Know-Who lost more and more of his
humanness as he grew older."
"Exactly," Harry said. "I'm lucky Tom still had that little hope inside
him...well, not really lucky..."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"Well, as I said, we grew closer," Harry said. "Right after your visit last
Easter, there was a...conflict between us." He took another deep breath. "He
was very angry at me being with you all the time that he threw me across the
hall."
Ron and Hermione gasped.
"Bastard!" Ron said, fuming.
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"I eventually learned the reason why later on," Harry replied. "He shut me out
in the hall to sleep, but he brought me back after he dreamt about me. He was
so confused about his emotions." He laughed nervously. "He thought I would stop
being with him if you came back in my life."
There was a pause, and then Ron chortled.
"He actually thought that?" he said amusedly.
"Yes, that big idiot," Harry said affectionately. He kept his eyes on Ron,
worriedly wondering how their friendship would be affected by what he was going
to reveal. "Yes...well...I was trying to explain everything to him when he..."
Ron and Hermione looked at him intently.
"He kissed me."
Hermione nodded slowly, looking nervous. Ron's eyes grew wide, but he said
nothing.
"So...what happened after that?" Hermione asked tentatively, glancing at Ron.
"We were both shocked by what he did," Harry responded, looking timidly at Ron.
"We didn't say anything after that...he just went to bed and I stayed where I
was. All night I was up, thinking."
He looked remorsefully at Ron. "Ron...what made Voldemort angrier than us being
immortals was what he discovered about our relationship. He's outraged at what
we are, at what I did to Tom...
"Ron...please don't hate me." Harry's voice shook.
"Harry...he killed my sister," Ron said in a hollow voice. There was no anger
in his voice, but his eyes didn't leave Harry's.
"I know," Harry said.
"And you kissed him?"
Harry winced at the pain in Ron's voice, knowing perfectly well how Ron was
feeling.
"Ron...I'm sorry...I can't stop how I feel..."
Ron didn't respond. They continued to stare at each other, both lost for words.
Hermione glanced between them.
Ron suddenly got up and went for the door.
"Ron -" Harry called out, but Ron was already out the door. He turned to
Hermione desperately.
"I think he needs some time to think," Hermione said gently. "You're not going
to lose him, Harry."
"I don't want to lose him!" Harry said miserably. "He's my best mate!"
"I know, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "He's been so worried for you ever
since Ginny died; this won't destroy your friendship, trust me. Just give him
time to think and get used to it."
                                      ***
Professor Dumbledore stood patiently next to the door, quietly humming to keep
himself busy. He knew perfectly well what Harry was going to tell his friends,
and sure enough, when the door opened, a shocked, confused, and hurt looking
Ron stepped out.
"Hello, Professor," Ron said in a quiet voice.
"Is Hermione coming?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"What?" Ron said distractedly. "Um...yes. I think so."
Professor Dumbledore watched Ron for a while before speaking again. "Love can
be strange and unpredictable, but do not judge your friend based on who his
heart chose."
Ron stared at his professor, not speaking. He seemed like he was struggling
with his emotions inside.
"It's not because Harry loves a man," Ron said weakly. "It's because of...him.
Why Riddle? He killed my sister!"
"Harry never forgot Ginny," Professor Dumbledore said. "Do you not think that
he may have, and still is, struggling inside with this very same problem, that
he may feel like he is betraying Ginny, that the reason he waited this long to
tell you was because he feared losing you as well?"
Ron mulled over it in his mind, remembering how Harry - who bravely stood up
for his friends and boldly ran to save anyone in danger - was nervous while
revealing his relationship with Riddle to Ron.
But then he imagined Ginny laying cold six feet under while, miles away, the
boy she admired gave his heart to the man who cold-heartedly murdered her...her
crush on Harry would never be acknowledged or reciprocated...
But would Harry dishonor Ginny like that? Ron wondered. Harry's too noble to
hurt her or insult her memory.
But then why was Harry still with Riddle when he knew that he killed Ginny?
The thoughts whizzed in his mind so much that Ron became light-headed and
dizzy. It was too much to comprehend all at once, but one thing was for
certain. Ron wished he did not just turn his back on Harry. He had been
endlessly worrying over Harry, and he had indeed not slept for three nights
after Harry was abducted at the Quidditch World Cup.
Turning back to the door, he wished he had at least said bye to Harry.
Maybe I was too tactless. And when the school finds out that Harry fancies a
guy, jerks like Malfoy will be harassing him, Ron thought. He felt more awful
for turning his back on Harry. I'm a terrible friend!
He continued staring at the door, wanting to knock, but not wanting to come
face-to-face with Riddle.
"Ron?"
Ron turned around and looked at Professor Dumbledore and Hermione. He had been
lost in his thoughts so deeply he had not been aware of what was happening
around him. Giving the door one final look, he followed them.
                                      ***
Tom had a sinister sneer on his face when Harry left his room.
"I saw the Weasley leave," he said in an annoyingly smug tone. "He looked
traumatized."
"He just needs time," Harry echoed Hermione.
"Oh no," Tom laughed, still in his haughty tone. "You lost your precious little
friend, not that it matters. You don't need him. He's as dispensable and
worthless as his penniless family. He doesn't really like you. Wash your hands
of him! The only friend you'll ever need is me!"
"Shut up!" Harry spat. He looked horribly hurt. Without another word, he
stormed into his new room and slammed the door.
Tom watched him, his mouth open. He hadn’t really meant to injure Harry's
feelings like that. Harry's friendship with Ron was a far more sensitive issue
than Tom had thought.
Perhaps I was too tactless, Tom thought.
                                      ***
The next morning Harry greeted Tom coolly.
"We're visiting Hagrid after breakfast," he said while looking through the
menu. Each of the small houses was given a menu of all the food offered at
Hogwarts. Harry called out, "porridge," and a bowl appeared on the table before
him.
"Hermione invited us," Harry added before tucking into his breakfast.
"I see," Tom said, barely able to disguise his disgust. "You expect me to spend
an entire Sunday with a Mudblood and that great oaf?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Don't call Hermione that." Tom made to argue, but
Harry cut him before he could speak. "Enough," Harry said, exasperated. "I've
had enough arguing! Can't we just let this day pass smoothly?" The look Harry
gave Tom was enough for him to remain quiet for the rest of breakfast just for
Harry's sake.
Tom was not looking forward to seeing Hagrid, but he went with Harry anyway,
choosing to stay by his side rather than argue.
"Good morning, Harry!" Hermione greeted him as she caught up with him. "Good
morning, Mr. Riddle," she added to Tom, her cheeks growing a faint shade of
pink.
"Ron's coming?" Harry questioned, surprised, as Ron joined Hermione. He
grinned, but Ron looked from Tom, then to Harry, seeming torn on what to do. He
didn't seem to want to meet Harry's eyes.
"I don't know if I want to go," Ron mumbled to Hermione while quickly glancing
at Tom, but Harry heard him.
"Ron...for me, please?" Harry said. They eyes met, and after what seemed an
eternity, Ron finally nodded. Looking happier than earlier this morning, Harry
led the way to Hagrid's hut.
Tom stood to the side, watching with revulsion as a beaming Hagrid welcomed
Harry and gave him a hug so tight Tom could hear a rib snap from a distance.
"Yeh had us worryin' there, Harry," Hagrid said as he ushered Harry, Ron, and
Hermione inside. Tom slipped in without a hello to Hagrid.
Oh great, Tom thought. The great big buffoon is crying! Droplets of tears the
size of Tom's fists had splashed nearby, drenching Tom's shoes.
"It's great to be back!" Harry said joyfully as he looked around the hut. "I
really missed it!" he added after taking a seat on Hagrid's bed. He motioned
for Tom to sit next to him. Ron sat on Harry's right, and Hermione settled
herself on the chair across from where Hagrid now sat. "And I missed you too,
of course," Harry finished, smiling at Hagrid.
A large black boarhound had made his way to them and settled his head on
Harry's lap.
"I missed you too, Fang!" Harry added, tittering as the dog licked his face;
Tom groaned. Harry stroked Fang's head; Tom shifted his feet to the left before
his shoes were soaked in drool. The dog stared raptly at Tom, making him want
to scream and break something.
"It hasn' bin the same without yeh, Harry," Hagrid said, moping the tears away
from his face with his massive hand. "I'd see Ron an' Hermione, but yeh weren'
with them. It jus' wasn' the same."
"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, looking genuinely touched.
"Tea?" Hagrid offered. Each person took their cup from Hagrid, but when it came
to Tom, he didn't budge. His eyes shot maliciously up at Hagrid's face, and
there was a brief awkward silence.
"Here," Harry said gently, taking the cup from Hagrid and giving it to Tom. Tom
hesitated, but he finally accepted the cup. Not looking at anyone, Tom took a
gulp. His eyes watered, but he continued pouring the scalding liquid down his
throat. Ron and Hermione were glancing at Tom nervously. Harry looked around at
everyone, frowning.
"So...how have things been for you?" Harry broke the silence.
"Oh, it's been good," Hagrid said, tearing his eyes from Tom and suddenly
looking pleased.
"What's that smile for, Hagrid?" Ron and Hermione were now also smiling.
"Didn' want ter tell yeh in a letter," Hagrid said with a meaningful nod at
Tom, "but I'm a teacher now!"
"A teacher?" Harry repeated, his jaw dropping. "That's wonderful, Hagrid!
Congratulations!"
"A teacher?" Tom said, his face far different from Harry's. "How can you become
a teacher? You never finished your education at Hogwarts!"
"Professor Dumbledore didn' seem ter mind," Hagrid said, sitting up straighter
in his chair. He returned his attention to Harry. "Professor Kettleburn retired
two years ago, after yer second year. Said he needed time with his remaining
limbs." Harry laughed. "Such a great man, Professor Dumbledore. Always good an'
fair teh everyone!"
"So this is your second year teaching," Harry said. "Wow. That's great."
"Ron and I are in his class," Hermione said.
"Is he a good teacher?" Harry asked, smiling.
"Well, with some guidance, yes," Hermione replied.
"I wouldn' have done it without Hermione's help," Hagrid said, and Hermione
blushed.
Tom snorted. "Not a true teacher then. I bet Dumbledore only hires people he
likes."
"Tom!" Harry chastised.
"Professor Dumbledore doesn't hire rude folks," Hagrid retorted.
"Perhaps I should apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post," Tom said,
ignoring Hagrid. "Apparently Dumbledore has not been very smart with hiring a
proper professor! Only I can do the job!"
"Professor Dumbledore, hire you?" Harry laughed, staring at Tom. "Gimme a
break! He would never do that!"
"Just like last time," Hagrid muttered under his breath, but Tom heard him.
"Excuse me?" Tom snarled, suddenly standing up. "What did you just say?" When
Hagrid failed to provide an answer, Tom continued. "Are you saying that my
older self once inquired about getting a job at Hogwarts? Answer me!"
"I ruddy well do not need ter take orders from yeh!" Hagrid bellowed, springing
to his feet.
"Tom," Harry warned, standing up and placing himself between them. "Hagrid,
don't hit him!" Ron and Hermione were watching Tom and Hagrid with wide eyes.
"Is this why Hogwarts hasn't had a professor who stayed in the post for longer
than one year?" Tom continued, his flashing eyes glaring at Hagrid. "Was it
because the position was denied to me? Well, I hardly blame myself for cursing
this stupid school with its despicable headmaster!"
Hagrid roared and made to go after Tom.
"HAGRID!" Harry screamed. "Don't hurt him! I love him!"
Hagrid stopped, staring at Harry with a bewildered look.
"I'm sorry," Harry said in a quiet voice.
Tom snorted and took a step forward, but Harry pulled out his wand.
"Tom," Harry warned in a hard, firm tone. "I'll hex you if you try anything."
Tom turned to face him, his eyes blazing red, looking feral. Harry heard
Hermione gasp; Ron shifted backwards. "Don't hurt any of my friends."
With a loud hiss, Tom bolted out the door.
"Tom!" Harry yelled, running to the doorway.
"Harry, he could hurt someone!" Hermione squealed, looking anxious.
"I don't see him anywhere," Ron said, peaking out from one of the windows.
"Blimey, he's mental! How can you handle that prat?"
Harry and Ron's eyes met for a moment.
"I'm used to him," Harry said, laughing lightly. He turned to Hagrid. "Did his
older self really try to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts post?"
Hagrid nodded as he settled back down. "And I don' blame Professor Dumbledore
fer denying him the job. I shouldn' have let that slip."
Harry patted Hagrid's massive hand. "It's okay, we'll find him."
"Should we take our wands out?" Hermione asked. She was still recovering from
his outburst.
"Well, okay," Harry said as Ron took his wand out. "But don't do anything to my
boyfriend until I say so."
                                      ***
Tom was so immersed in his anger he lost track of where he was running.
Students sitting on the grounds were turning and looking at him, shocked at the
sight of the bright burning red eyes and the angry hissing that issued from his
mouth.
"I was far smarter than that stupid oaf!" he ranted to himself. "I actually
graduated from school! I expelled Hagrid, but stupid Dumbledore had to bring
him back and make him a professor! Good and fair to all? Ha! Always he had
something against me! Always picking favorites! Always! I HATE HIM!" The anger
was boiling so much inside him he was about to explode, to scream, to hurt...
In his blind fury he did not see the student he crashed into. He fell hard on
his face, his body tangled with the student.
He swore under his breath. Getting up and wiping the dirt from his face, he
turned around. A long trail of blonde hair was visible from his twisted legs.
"Ow," a tiny, soft voice said.
Tom straightened up and unraveled himself from the girl.
"Watch where you're..." the words died in his mouth, all plans of taking his
anger out on the girl gone. The girl straightened up, shaking her hair back,
looking not at all offended that someone had slammed into or yelled at her. But
that wasn't what caught Tom's attention. The girl was wearing large earrings
that looked like miniature Thestrals, and her hand-made necklace was composed
of butterbeer corks.
Wouldn't she get in trouble for wearing this at school? Tom wondered. At that
moment, the girl regarded him with her large silvery eyes that seemed vague yet
able to look through him at the same time.
"Hello," she said in a dreamy voice. She fixed her wand's position the back of
her ear.
Tom kept staring. He had just noticed the bracelet made of bright, colorful
bubble gum balls. Her backpack had burst open, and they were surrounded by
unusual objects Tom had never seen before. For one wild moment, he wondered if
he had damaged a few brain cells in his anger.
That's impossible, Tom thought, absent-mindedly squeezing a soft object that
was near him.
"You were in a hurry," the girl said, still regarding him. She didn't blink as
often as he did; Tom was very conscious of her eyes on him.
"Yes, I was," Tom said, "but not anymore."
"Then I think I can introduce myself."
"All right," he said, slightly taken aback. "Tell me your name."
"I am Luna Lovegood," she said, her head cocked to one side. "My mother named
me after a rabbit that lives on the moon. And you are?"
"Tom Riddle," Tom replied. "My mother named me after my father."
"That's a nice name."
"There are too many Toms."
"Just a few million," Luna said innocently.
"What is this?" he asked. A yellow and blue-striped, orange-sized fruit had
rolled out from her backpack.
"It's a Tchea fruit," Luna said as she picked it up.
"Pardon?" Was there some new species of fruit discovered recently?
"My father is doing research on them," Luna said, suddenly looking excited.
"The yellow parts taste like blueberry, and the blue parts taste like banana.
But don't eat the skin; it makes you flatulent."
"I see," Tom said, accepting the Tchea fruit. He thought of all the people he
would love to trick into eating the skin.
"Where is my glass onion?" Luna suddenly asked, searching around. "I do hope it
did not break. I was using it to locate any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."
Tom decided not to ask what a glass onion or a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was. He
did not want to appear unintelligent.
Apparently a lot of new discoveries were made during my fifty years being in
the diary, Tom thought. But then why didn't Harry ever mention them?
"I can help you look for it," Tom offered, motioning to the mess around them.
Hopefully he could get a glimpse at more of her strange belongings.
"Oh, that is kind of you," Luna said as she gathered books and strange objects
and stuffed them into her backpack.
Me, kind? Tom thought, smirking. He watched her pack some objects. She mumbled
the name of each object as it went into her backpack, all of which Tom had
never heard of. He was increasingly feeling more conscious of how little he
knew about the new magical world.
He finally looked down at the soft object in his hand, and his face burned red.
"Oh, you have my bra!" Luna said happily as she took it from his hand. "Daddy
and I shopped for new bras for this year. I'm starting to grow out, you know."
And to Tom's horror, Luna pulled her collar away from her face, observing
herself.
"I think my right one is slightly bigger than my left," Luna said
conversationally.
"Oh," Tom said when he could find his voice. "That's nice."
Don't you dare ask me to look! he mentally threatened, hoping students wouldn't
overhear this conversation. Doesn't she have any shame?
"Daddy said I'm turning into a lady," she continued as she packed, unaware of
the look on Tom's face.
"Of course you are," Tom replied. He sneered as he handed her a small plush toy
of a neon green creature with orange antlers. "You will be a lovely woman, Lady
Luna." Especially with that silly doll, he added mentally.
"There you are!" Harry yelled as he ran up to them, closely followed by Ron and
Hermione. He took one look at him and Luna sitting on the floor surrounded by
Luna's belongings before turning to Tom, his eyes narrowed.
"I didn't do anything to her!" Tom said, wondering why Harry, Ron, and Hermione
had their wands out. Then he remembered what happened in Hagrid's cabin. His
little chat with the odd girl had gotten his mind off his anger.
"Hello, you are Harry Potter," Luna said, watching Harry before trailing her
eyes on Ron and Hermione. They watched Luna curiously as she dreamily returned
the curious stares.
"This is Lady Luna Lovegood," Tom introduced with a smirk.
"Lady Luna?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not mocking her, are
you?" he added in their tongue, bearing down on Tom.
"Why would I mock her?" Tom said calmly.
"Oh, here it is!" Luna announced as she raised her hand. She was gripping an
onion-shaped glass ornament.
"You found it, then," Tom said, studying the glass onion.
While everyone was watching, bemused, Luna placed the glass onion close to her
eye and peered around.
"I didn't find any," she said to Tom, "but I think I caught a glimpse of a
Blibbering Humdinger over there at the forest!"
"A Blibbering what?" Ron said, dumbfounded. Hermione raised an eyebrow, giving
Luna a strange look.
"Don't tell me you don't know what a Blibbering Humdinger is!" Tom jeered
arrogantly as he stood up, refusing to confess that he too did not know. Harry
was giving him odd looks as though Tom had just lost his mind. "I would have
thought anyone in the wizarding world would know!"
Ron and Harry's eyes met once more, both unable to suppress a grin; the events
from last night suddenly seemed so long ago.
"I must send an owl to my father," Luna said to no one in particular. "He'll
need to know if a Blibbering Humdinger is spotted. They could clog up the
school's sewage." She turned to Tom, looking happier than before. "It was nice
bumping into you, Mr. Riddle."
"Er...yes...bump," Tom said. "Good day, Lady Luna." He teasingly gave a little
bow.
Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Tom as Luna skipped away from them. He shook
his head, laughing.
"You little snake," Harry said under his breath. At least he's not on a
murdering rampage now.
                                     *****
Tchea Fruits are one of the strange food items one can find in the Neopets
website.
Glass onion refers to the song "Looking Through the Glass Onion" by the
Beatles.
***** Chapter Sixteen - Clashes and Crushes *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                                Chapter Sixteen
                              Clashes and Crushes
                                        
                     "Walking with a friend in the dark is
                   better than walking alone in the light."
                                - Helen Keller
                                     *****
Although the appearance of Luna Lovegood had thawed the tension with Tom, Harry
woke up the next morning with a fresh wave of anxiety. The news of his return
had surely spread throughout the whole school by now, and Harry wasn't sure if
the news of his relationship with Tom had spread as well. Any of the children
of the Death Eaters could start the rumors. All the Death Eaters present after
Lord Voldemort's rise back to power had witnessed Harry holding Tom's hand...
"I'm not sure if I want to go to the Great Hall," Harry mentioned when he met
up with Tom in their tiny kitchen.
"Then don't go," Tom said.
"But then I'll miss Ron and Hermione," Harry said, resigned. What with Ron and
Hermione's classes and needing to be at the Gryffindor common room by a set
time, Harry's time with his friends was going to be limited. Harry wasn't going
to attend classes any longer. The agreement was that Tom would continue doing
the teaching.
"After all, you are ahead of your class," Tom had said smugly. "Why waste your
time relearning everything when I can get you ahead? The more knowledge you
gain, the better for the fight against my older self."
Harry sighed, remembering their earlier conversation. "Where are we going to
continue the lessons?"
"Any empty classroom we can find," Tom replied as he poured himself and Harry
some iced pumpkin juice.
"I'll still have to leave the third floor."
"We need a bigger room than this."
"Why?"
Tom grinned. "You may need it for what I've got planned for you."
Harry decided not to question Tom. He was relieved that they were speaking to
each other without any bitterness in their voices.
They finished their breakfast and prepared themselves for the day. Harry
reached the bottom of the stairs just as Ron and Hermione emerged from the
large doors of the Great Hall. Ron saw them, and he and Hermione waved to
Harry. Harry waved back, and with a small jolt in his stomach, he saw Neville
Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Fred and George Weasley...they all spotted him and
waved. Many more students were pouring from the doors, and suddenly feeling
anxious again, Harry grabbed Tom's hand and led him down the remainder of the
stairs and into a deserted corridor. Behind him, Harry could hear people
catching up to him.
"Hey, Harry!" Dean called out. Soon they were surrounded by Ron, Hermione,
Neville, Dean, Seamus, Fred and George, and what remained of his old Quidditch
team.
"Hi guys," Harry said awkwardly.
"Harry, what's up?" Ron asked as he caught up with him.
"I'm fine," Harry replied. "I just got a bit overwhelmed being in front of the
entire school."
"They all want to see you," Fred said as he and George took turns shaking
Harry's hand.
"Not now," Harry said, smiling sadly. The last time he'd been at Hogwarts, half
the school had believed he was the heir of Slytherin. What did they think of
him now?
"You can't hide from them forever," Hermione said sagely.
"I know," Harry said. "Just give me time."
"Hi Harry," Katie Bell greeted, and she and Alicia Spinnet gave him a kiss on
the forehead. Tom raised his eyebrows.
"Who's the cutie?" Angelina Johnson asked, eyeing Tom. "Jealous, is he?"
"He's my friend Tom," Harry explained as he shook hands with Seamus and
received a small hug from Neville. He wasn't sure if it was wise to reveal
Tom's last name. Did anyone else besides Ron and Hermione know who Tom really
was?
And then Angelina gave Tom a quick kiss on the cheek. Tom gawked at her,
bewildered.
"You're welcome," Angelina said when Tom failed to uttered a single word. Ron
and Hermione watched nervously, but when Harry started laughing, it spread
throughout the little group. Only Tom didn't laugh.
"Hello Harry," said a dreamy voice. Luna Lovegood appeared, seemingly drifting
between Fred and George.
"Hi Luna," Harry said while the other Gryffindors stared at Luna curiously.
"I thought I saw you and Tom running down here," Luna said. She turned to Tom.
"I sent a letter to my father. There should be a remedy available for
Blibbering Humdingers."
"A what?" Seamus whispered, staring at Luna. Katie and Alicia were giggling.
Hermione covered her face with a single hand. Tom, however, didn't notice the
looks on their faces.
"Then the problem will be solved soon, hopefully," Tom said seriously. "Have
you located any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" The surprised looks turned to Tom.
Fred and George were trying their best not to laugh.
"No, none yet," Luna said. "Maybe they come out at night, although I don't
remember father saying they do. Maybe they're just shy."
"Your father does research on them?"
"Oh yes," Luna said happily. "He keeps an eye out for them. His research can be
found in The Quibbler."
"He has his own periodicals? Do you have a copy, by any chance?"
"Oh yes!" Luna said, practically glowing. She rummaged through her backpack,
looking sweetly innocent, Harry thought. "I always carry a couple of copies
with me - here!"
"What the heck does a Crumple-Horned Snorkack look like?" Seamus said. Tom
glanced at him, surprised.
"Someone's coming," Harry announced, watching Tom amusedly. Harry pulled out
his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and threw it over himself and Tom.
"I'll see you later," Harry said to his friends, and grabbing Tom's hand again,
he ran deeper into the corridor.
"That's the second idiot I've met who doesn't know what a Crumple-Horned
Snorkack is," Tom said when they were far away.
Harry grinned widely. He tried not to laugh. "That's because they don't exist."
Tom's eyes narrowed. "Don't exist?" he repeated, rounding on Harry. He grabbed
Harry by the collar, shaking him. "You let me embarrass myself and never
bothered to tell me this until now?"
"Well, you're cute when you're pretending that you understand something you
don't even know about," Harry said, laughing.
"And how do we know they really don't exist?" Tom challenged. "Maybe they are a
new species that Luna’s father has discovered! You saw the Tchea fruit; there
are strange new plants and creatures cropping up on this planet! Luna's father
is studying them. It explains why not everyone has heard of them."
"Fair point," Harry said, looking back. His friends were surrounded by new
students. "They probably wanted to ask me a million questions. Poor them. I
hope they won't be late for their classes."
"We've got a lesson as well," Tom reminded him. Harry turned around, startling
Tom with a deep kiss. Wrapping his arms around Tom, Harry realized that this
was the first time in the past few days that they had shared a kiss. It felt
right to kiss him just then, what with them invisible to everyone in the school
while standing in the deserted corridor.
Tom still looked surprised when Harry pulled away.
"Let's go," Harry said, blushing and smiling vaguely as he led Tom to an empty
classroom. It didn't look like it had been used for many years. All the student
desks were pushed to the side, leaving a wide space in the center ideal for
training.
"This is perfect," Tom said, pulling off the Cloak. "I need your wand for one
moment."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"I have to lock the door," Tom explained, "lest someone walks in on us while
I'm training you."
Harry didn't ask any more questions, although he continued watching Tom.
"Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be doing something different
today?" Harry said as Tom summoned two chairs and placed them side by side.
"It's time to train you to use your unique ability," Tom said.
"You mean my power of love?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes and grinning.
Tom raised his eyebrows. "Yes, your power of love," he replied, unable to
resist returning the grin. He got up and browsed through the room, eventually
producing a small cardboard box. From the faded colors, Harry deduced that it
was an old candy box.
"What a mess," Tom said under his breath. "The house-elves never clean this
room."
"Oh, there are house-elves here too?" Harry said. He was suddenly reminded of
Dobby.
"You never knew that?" Tom stared at Harry. "How else do we get our meals in
the Great Hall?"
"Um, magic?" Harry replied. Tom resisted the urge to throw an insult.
"Anyhow," he said after setting the box a few feet from them, "I want you to
recite the four basic principals Adalbert Waffling outlines in Magical Theory."
"Intention, concentration, incantation, and energy," Harry said confidently.
"You must have a purpose, an intention for your spell. Concentrate or the spell
will fail. Every spell requires an incantation. You need energy, the most
complicated of the four to master. And I guess we'll be working on the energy
part again."
"Very good," Tom said. "We release energy all the time, in many ways, may it be
a physical action, a thought, or an emotion. From what I understand, the amount
of love inside you is so intense it can produce vast amounts of energy. You
should learn how to use it.
"You know the Summoning Spell?"
"Of course," Harry said. "You taught that to me long ago."
"Think back on how you prepare yourself for the spell," Tom continued. "Then,
when you're ready, summon the box without your wand."
Harry turned to the box. He concentrated, thinking hard that he wanted to have
the box in his hand. Stretching out his hand, Harry muttered, "Accio." Nothing
happened.
"Think of me," Tom instructed.
Harry obeyed. It was hard. He tried to think of Tom without breaking his
concentration. How did he do it back in Pyrites's laboratory?
Don't think of Pyrites, Harry chastised himself. You're losing your
concentration!
He thought only of the kiss they shared in the corridor...the feel of Tom's
lips on his own...Tom's dark handsome eyes...his smile...his laughter...the
tranquility on his face as he slept...Tom tortured, making the strange noises
as he had convulsions...oh, Merlin, he never wanted to see Tom in pain...
The box flew out several inches and fell to the floor.
"Not bad," Tom said. He picked up the box and placed it back on the desk. "Next
time try to get it to land in your hand."
"Why is it necessary for me to learn this?" Harry asked, yawning.
"So that if you face my wonderful older self without a wand, you can still
fight him," Tom explained, running his fingers up and down Harry's wand.
"Are you sure it's not some nefarious plan so you can take my wand?" Harry
teased.
"I'm sure," Tom said. His lips curled. "I must say, however, that the two wands
you've possessed respond remarkable well to me. Not all wands will yield the
same result."
"Oh," Harry said, his eyes widening. "You don't know this, but your old wand's
core came from the same phoenix in this wand and my old one."
"Really?" Tom said, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. Professor Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes gave its feathers only to our
wands. Ollivander told me."
Tom's face changed from being surprised to looking confused. "What an idiot,
that Dumbledore," he said. "If that loon knows that we shared the same wand
core, then your wand is useless against my older self!"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Wands that share a common core repel each other, much like facing two like-
charged magnets!" Tom snorted. "What was he thinking?"
"Maybe he did it for a reason," Harry spoke after thinking about the matter.
"He knows that you'll figure it out eventually, and he knows about my ability,
so maybe he's pushing me to study magic without my wand!" He shifted forward in
his seat. "And once I can do magic without my wand, I won't be needing it any
longer! You can have it! I think he's a genius!"
"Yes, Dumbledore is ever so generous," Tom said sarcastically.
"I thought it was a good theory," Harry said, disheartened.
"Doesn't matter what his intention is," Tom said firmly. "The point is that you
must learn to control your ability so you can murder my older self!"
Silence followed.
"Tom...you want me to...kill - but he's you! I would be killing a part of you!"
"Does it look like I care?" Tom said venomously. "I don't tolerate anyone who
tries to harm me, not even myself."
You harmed yourself by making so many Horcruxes, Harry thought. He didn't want
to think about killing Lord Voldemort. It didn't matter that he tormented his
younger self and Harry; he was still Tom...the boy Harry cared for so much.
"Try it again," Tom said, indicating the box.
Harry concentrated hard on the box. He didn't want to hurt Tom...was there a
way to put the pieces back together? There had to be. But what if Tom didn't
want to be whole again?
Oh Tom...his soft voice in the middle of the night...the way he hands moved
over Harry's as he taught him how to move his wand for a spell...vulnerable,
needing to be fed...his trembling, his pain...losing his mother...crying in the
dark, lonely room of the orphanage...eating heartedly while Ron and Hermione
stared at him...
...their laughter, smiles, hugs...battling mountain trolls...Ron and
Hermione...
The box zoomed through the air and hit Harry's shoulder.
"Good, if you could catch it," Tom said.
"I had a hard time," Harry panted. He was so tired...another cup of coffee
would be nice right now... "Thinking of Ron and Hermione helped."
"I see," Tom said coolly. He threw the box on the desk. "Try it again! And
think only of me!"
Harry laughed. "There are many people that I love," he said.
Ignoring the look on Tom's face, Harry concentrated once more.
He was taken back to when he first spoke with Ron on the train…it seemed so
long ago...their whispered conversations before they went to bed...the rude
words they wrote about Professor Snape in their textbooks...Harry laughed...his
parents were waving from an enchanted mirror...Professor Dumbledore was
speaking gently to him in the school's hospital...he was in Transfiguration
class with Ron, desperately trying to figure out how to master the spell while
Ron's broken wand emitted sparks...
"Harry," said Tom's voice...his voice, how Harry enjoyed the sound of his name
coming from Tom's lips...how Tom firmly holds his hand...
Harry staggered. The box whizzed into the palm of his hand and clattered on the
floor; Harry was too late to catch it, but he had succeeded getting the box to
come to his hand.
However, he was exhausted.
"Harry?" Tom asked again, and seconds later, he grabbed Harry before he hit the
ground.
                                      ***
"He's asleep," Tom sighed under his breath. He magicked two desks side by side,
dragged Harry towards them, and laid Harry down. He sat next to the desks,
thinking. Harry was using too much energy, and Tom couldn't afford to keep
stopping just to let the boy nap. There were new lessons they had to cover.
He'll be able to control his energy in time, Tom assured himself. Waving
Harry's wand, a glass of orange juice appeared in the empty space next to
Harry. Tom took the glass, set it aside, and waited until Harry woke up. Until
Harry could use magic without consuming all of his energy supply, Tom would
have to keep feeding him.
He read through The Quibbler while he waited. Disappointment greeted him with
every new page. It was no wonder the wizarding world wasn't buzzing with talk
over the Snorkacks. The presentation of the magazine was pitiful! It was
printed on cheap paper, the writing was unprofessional, and the illustrations
were embarrassing. Who could take such a magazine seriously?
But this didn't make sense to Tom. Discoveries were always being made. The
Muggle world had altered so much over the past fifty years; why wasn't the
magical world advancing?
Narrow minds, of course! Tom mentally answered. Even if these documented
creatures are all an infringement of imagination, there is always some fact in
fiction. Thereis something out there the wizarding world doesn't know!
His fingers scratched a badly drawn caricature of Professor Dumbledore. There
was another matter at stake. I mustn't lose my credibility! I have to prove to
the world these creatures and plants exist, and then no one will ever doubt my
intelligence!
Harry gently snored nearby.
We'll see who gets the last laugh!
                                      ***
Ron tossed his backpack across the Gryffindor common room. He didn't feel like
studying, but Hermione had gone to the library to bring back more books to help
them with their Potions homework. Ron made a face. He wished Hermione could
just let him copy her homework; he wanted to go see Harry. Going to classes
without Harry was just as bad as ever. He missed partnering up with Harry and
struggling with their assignments together. Harry's company always made up for
the bad grades. Although he enjoyed Hermione's company, it just wasn't the same
as when he was with Harry.
"Are the rumors true, do you think?"
"I dunno."
"But you saw that boy he's with. They're always together."
Ron craned his neck and located where the whispers were coming from. Seamus,
Dean, and Neville were sitting together on one of the tables while poring over
their homework.
"Who are you talking about?" Ron asked, although he already knew the answer. He
sat next to Dean.
"Harry," Seamus replied. "Why isn't he taking classes with us? Who is that kid
he's always with anyway?"
"Harry has other things to do," Ron replied. "And that guy is Harry's friend.
He told you, remember?"
"Yeah, but what kind of friend?"
Ron didn't like the tone in Seamus's voice. "What does it matter to you?" Ron
challenged.
"I...saw them kissing the other day," Dean spoke up. He seemed to have been
holding that information until now.
Seamus rounded on Dean. "And?"
Dean hesitated. "It was a little odd at first. I mean, I'm not used to seeing
two guys kiss...but it's not that bad." He shrugged. "They like each other. So
what?"
"One of my uncles is the same," Neville piped up. "I don't see what the big
deal is."
"The big deal is that it's the famous Harry Potter," Seamus said, laughing.
"What d'you reckon would be the reaction from the Daily Prophet if they learned
that The Boy Who Lived is a pansy?"
"Shut up!" Ron snapped, glaring at Seamus.
"You don't like Riddle!" Seamus argued.
"That doesn't mean I hate Harry too!" Ron said hotly. "It doesn't change who he
is! You don't have a go at my best friend!"
"Don't tell me what to do," Seamus retorted.
"I still don't see what the big deal is," Neville cut in. "I think you're just
being narrow-minded."
Dean nodded his agreement. "They're in love. So what? I wouldn't mind having
someone in my life..."
"Thank you, Neville, Dean," Ron said, grateful that they spoke up. Ignoring
Seamus, he got up from his seat, collected his backpack, and left the common
room without a glance back.
He saw Hermione halfway down the stairs.
"Ron, what -"
"Later, Hermione," Ron said, pulling her sleeve. He told her everything as they
continued descending the stairs.
"Well, that isn't surprising," Hermione said. "You've heard Malfoy and his
goons spreading rumors about Harry ever since they came back. And if more
people like Dean caught them together..."
"We have to tell Harry to be careful."
"Be careful?" Hermione said incredulously. "Of what? He can't even give someone
a peck on the cheek now?" They passed two older students who had held hands.
"It's like telling him he cannot live like other people because he is not
normal."
"You're right," Ron mumbled, feeling terrible. "That just isn't fair." He
wished, not for the first time since Harry's return, that he could understand
what being gay was like and know how to handle it better. Why couldn't one of
his brothers have also been gay? Then he wouldn't feel so uneasy about it. He
was conscious of everything that he said around Harry because he didn't want to
offend him.
"You're not going to offend me," Harry had said, rolling his eyes and smiling.
"What if one day we're talking about something, and I say 'that's so gay!' in
front of you?" Ron had asked.
"Since when have you ever said that?"
"I dunno."
"See?" Harry had laughed. "You never said anything offensive around Dean and
Lee. This is the same thing. Stop worrying about it."
I can't help it, Ron thought miserably, remembering their conversation. "Let's
find him," Ron said to Hermione.
They found Harry sitting outside on one of the rock benches. He was leaning
against the wall, his eyes glazed over.
"Hey, mate, are you okay?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Harry murmured. He gave a monumental yawn. "I'm...so...tired all the
time!"
"Here," Hermione said as she sat next to him. She unwrapped a sandwich she had
tucked into her backpack and handed it to Harry. "You need to replenish your
energy."
"That's all I ever seem to do these days," Harry sighed. "Eat, sleep, talk with
Professor Dumbledore, train to use my 'greatest power'..."
"At least you're not just eating and sleeping," Ron said, grinning.
"Ron's right," Hermione said. "You're progressing at an amazing rate." She
wasn't bluffing. When they were not in class, Ron and Hermione had periodically
come to watch Harry train. The sight of Harry withered and convulsing as he
tried to tap into his powers, Tom yelling at him all the while, was terrifying
at times. Once or twice Tom got so violent that Ron and Hermione had to pull
Tom away from Harry.
"Well, it's not the easiest thing to do, you know!" Harry had yelled at Tom
after recovering.
But then there were times when they witnessed Harry casting extraordinarily
complex magic effortlessly without any aid from a wand.
Harry had also been visiting Professor Dumbledore; Tom reluctantly came along.
In his office, Tom and Harry learned what Lord Voldemort had been up to after
turning the diary into a Horcrux. Tom listened attentively, although he never
looked at Professor Dumbledore. He was determined to destroy his older self,
something that Harry found disturbing and frightening.
"Where is that git?" Ron asked as though he had read Harry's mind. He looked
around. "He shouldn't be alone!"
"Oh, I'm not too worried," Harry said, grinning.
"Why not?"
"Because there's another person out there who can keep him in check," Harry
explained, pointing. A good distance away they could make out the forms of Tom
and Luna walking side by side.
"Ever since I told him that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks don't exist, he's been
determined to prove me wrong," Harry said, laughing. He got up, suddenly
looking more energetic than earlier. "But that's not the only thing. I think
he's found a friend in Luna. That means a lot to me. From his behavior towards
everyone since we came here, I was worried his heart was closed off to everyone
except me."
He looked at Ron and Hermione. "I worked so hard to teach him love that I
didn't stop to think that he might only be capable of liking one person. Maybe
he can have someone else in his life besides me - a friend. No offense, but he
doesn't like either of you."
"The feeling's mutual," Ron said. Harry smiled sadly.
"I don't like her," Hermione said, glaring at Luna. "I've been asking around,
and she seems to be the most gullible person I've ever heard of! She believes
in every conspiracy theory and hoax ever dreamed up!"
"She's not that bad," Harry said. "She has wild theories, but Tom may be right.
Maybe her family is on to something."
"Well, I just hope he doesn't taint her mind," Hermione said, watching them
disdainfully.
"He won't," Harry said. "He's no match for her!" He led the way towards the
two. It was apparent that there was an argument, or rather, Tom was desperately
trying to worm information out of Luna.
"And no one has ever sent a photograph of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" Tom was
saying, waving his copy of The Quibbler in the air. "Only illustrations?"
"Well, they don't like being photographed," Luna said calmly. "They think it
captures their soul."
Tom snorted. "Well, what do they eat? What's their normal diet like?" He caught
sight of Harry and his friends. "I'll show you," he said in a soft yet
dangerous voice.
"That's nice, dear," Harry said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. Luna
smiled, watching them.
"Are they practicing over there?" Harry asked as he glanced out towards the
Quidditch Pitch.
"I think so," Ron said, squinting. "They're not Slytherins."
"Good," Harry said happily. "I can't stand Slytherins."
Tom snorted. "You spent a good part of your summer with two of them, one being
Slytherin's heir," he reminded Harry.
Luna observed Tom curiously. "You're Slytherin's descendent?" she asked.
"Rowena Ravenclaw is -"
"Probably residing in your house as some freakish dodo bird," Hermione muttered
irritably, but Luna heard her.
"Let's get going," Harry said before Luna could speak up.
"Last time we were near a Quidditch pitch, we spent a fortnight being tortured
and treated like specimens," Tom said.
Harry frowned. "It doesn't hurt to look," he said defensively. "And there
aren't any Death Eaters around." He turned to Ron and Hermione. "How's our team
doing?"
"Not good," Ron said after hesitating. "Our new Seeker...well, he's just isn't
up on the same level you were, Harry."
"So we lost the Quidditch cup last year?" Harry asked, disheartened.
"Slytherin would have won," Ron said, "had it not been for the Ravenclaw team."
He grinned. "That new Ravenclaw Seeker...she's really something."
"I really like Cho Chang," Luna spoke up. "She's very kind, but she sometimes
lets her emotions govern her actions."
"That must be her," Harry said while searching the sky. He could see a figure
in blue robes whirling through the sky; a yellow blur was flying close behind.
"I think they're practicing with the Hufflepuffs."
"Oh, that must be Cedric Diggory," Luna said. "His family lives close to my
house. He's very nice."
"And he's a prefect," Hermione said brightly. Ron groaned. "You have a problem
with that? You like Cho..."
"And you like Riddle too!" Ron snapped. Hermione's face burned, but she glared
at Ron.
Harry laughed; Tom just rolled his eyes.
"I'll introduce you to them," Luna offered. Harry followed her, practically
dragging Tom with him.
The two Seekers had landed and dismounted, meeting up with their fellow
teammates. Harry noticed that the two Seekers briefly held hands and gave each
other an affectionate look.
"Hello Cho, hello Cedric," Luna greeted dreamily as she drifted towards the
couple. "Harry is interested in meeting you."
"Harry?" Cho asked, looking a confused at first. Then her eyes fell on Harry.
"Oh!"
"This is Harry Potter," Luna introduced unnecessarily, lightly waving her arm
towards Harry. The rest of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff team had gathered
around, watching Harry curiously and chattering amongst themselves. "Harry,
this is Cho Chang."
"Hi," Harry said, wishing everyone weren't starting at him. "You fly very
well."
"Thank you," Cho said, smiling. She was extremely beautiful; Harry's eyes
traced down her long, smooth hair.
"And this is Cedric Diggory."
"Nice to meet you," Cedric said, averting Harry's attention. "I remember when
you were a Seeker in your first and second years. You're the best Seeker I've
ever seen outside of the Leagues." He smiled, and Harry felt his face turn red.
"Um...thanks," he said, and he suddenly couldn't help but notice that Cedric
was very handsome when he smiled.
                                      ***
"I don't like him," Tom said flatly.
"Tom..." Harry sighed, pushing his roll of parchment farther from him before
beginning a new line. "Just drop it, will you?"
"You blushed over him," Tom spat. He had been staring down Harry's shoulder,
watching him intently.
"So?"
"He's obviously targeting you," Tom said scathingly, his eyes flashing red. "Be
wary of walking alone in corridors. He could be waiting in the shadows, ready
to -"
"TOM!"
"Admit it, you think he's handsome!" said Tom angrily.
"Fine, I think he's good looking," Harry said. "I also think Cho is the most
beautiful girl I've ever seen." This rendered Tom speechless.
"Cho too?" he said, his teeth clenched.
"Yes, Cho," Harry said, amused. He turned around so that Tom wouldn't see the
smirk on his face. "I think it's her hair. Apparently I am attracted to dark
hair."
"Cedric's hair is much lighter than mine," Tom announced triumphantly.
Harry guffawed. "Merlin! Tom, you kill me sometimes!" Spinning around, he
surprised Tom with another deep kiss. "Listen," Harry said in Tom's ear,
ruffling his hair. "I rather like the old-fashioned look, so don't try changing
yourself, got that?" He turned back to his work. "Besides, I like you for many
more reasons than your looks, you idiot."
Fortunately, Tom calmed down that night, but in the days that followed Harry
found himself fretting over Tom doing something dreadful. He seemed to show up
out of nowhere whenever Cedric went to chat with Harry, and he didn't bother
keeping his distaste for Cedric private.
"What's up with him?" Cho had once asked.
"He's...just a little loony," Harry said.
"He's cute though," Cho added, winking. Harry grinned. There didn't seem to be
any girl who did not enjoy admiring Tom from afar. Harry had even caught
Millicent Bulstrode patting her hair while watching him haughtily pass by.
While Harry enjoyed the attention he was receiving from Cedric and Cho, Tom
abhorred every single girl who batted her eyelashes at him. The only girls he
seemed to tolerate were Luna and Hermione, who were usually seen walking by his
side.
"I hate girls," Tom hissed to Harry. "All of them. They're just shallow packets
of untamable hormones."
"They're more complex than you think," Ron said defensively. "You haven't met
Mum, and you haven't been around Hermione long enough."
"Does it matter?" Tom spat at Ron. "They're all the same."
"Even Luna?" Harry asked.
"She's different," Tom said automatically. "Very different, actually."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I wish more girls thought I'm attractive," he said.
"They know who you are, Tom, and they still like you." Thanks to Malfoy and his
goons spreading rumors, Tom's true identity was well known throughout the
wizarding world. Even if the girls thought him extremely handsome, they
wouldn't go near him. His name was smeared in the mud, and it worried Harry
that someone could hurt Tom since he was without a wand.
I really should master my powers, Harry thought. He needs my wand.
                                      ***
"All right, Harry?" Colin Creevey greeted breathlessly one day.
"Hi," Harry said. He eyed the camera around Colin's neck.
"I wanted to give this to you," he said, pulling out a photo from his robes. "I
gave one to Ron a while back, but I found another one!"
Curious, Harry took the photo, and his stomach lurched. It was a photo of
Ginny, smiling and waving shyly at the camera. It seemed like Colin had taken
the photo while they were on their way to class. Behind Ginny was a large
spectacular stained glass window.
"I really like that window," Colin said, "and I asked Ginny if she wanted her
picture taken with it. It's up on the seventh floor, nearing the Divination
classroom. I thought you might like it."
Deep inside, Harry felt too miserable and guilty to have this photo with him;
Ginny's smile will only ever exist in pictures, never in real life...
"Thanks, Colin," Harry said, trying to keep his voice light.
Colin beamed. He watched Harry walk away, and suddenly he grabbing his camera
and took a couple of snapshots. He simply couldn't resist!
"Hey, Harry," Colin called out. "Is it true about you...having a boyfriend?" He
could see Harry wince from where he stood.
"Yeah," Harry replied flatly, turning his around to face Colin.
"I support you," Colin said enthusiastically. "I never knew people like that
existed -" Harry's eyebrows shot up "- but I don't think it's bad!" Harry had a
sneaking suspicion Colin was only supportive because of his fame. "Oh, and
Harry! My little brother started this year! He's in Gryffindor too! I'll
introduce you to him some day!"
"Thanks, Colin," Harry said, smiling mechanically, eager to finally get away.
Colin checked out the image slowly forming on the Polaroid's black surface
while walking, unaware of where he was going.
"What do you think you're doing?" Colin halted at the demanding voice. He spun
around and saw Tom Riddle.
"You must be Harry's boyfriend!" Colin said cheerfully. "I was just talking
with him."
"I saw," Tom said. "I don't want you ever doing that." The malicious look in
his eyes sent goosebumps up Colin's arm.
Harry's boyfriend is really...intimidating, Colin thought innocently.
"Let me have that," Tom suddenly said, and he snatched the two photographs from
Colin's hand. "Pictures...how many more do you have?"
Before Colin could answer, Tom grabbed Colin's backpack, unzipping it in the
process. Pools of photos littered the floor. Crouching down, he observed each
of them.
"They're all of Harry," Tom said in a voice that terrified Colin. "This one
must have been from his second year...my, my...you have been busy stalking
Harry this year..." He stood up, and Colin tried to smile. It seemed like Tom
was suddenly much bigger than he really was.
"Would you like one of them?" Colin asked timidly.
Tom didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed Colin and lifted him high in the air.
"What the hell? Put him down!" a voice demanded, knocking sense back to Tom. He
was just about to fling the trembling boy from the banister. He met the
student's eyes, and realizing that if Professor Dumbledore was informed, there
would be no hearing. It would be straight to Azkaban with him.
Tom let go, and Colin crashed to the ground over the pile of photos.
"This is none of your business!" Tom told the boy. He had blonde hair, a
Hufflepuff by the looks of him, and he held himself in a way that irritated
Tom.
"I don't think Professor Dumbledore would like it if he knew that you killed
one of his students," the boy said snobbishly. "You've already got a case on
your head, don't you?"
Tom's eyes narrowed.
"Scram, kid," the boy said to Colin before turning back to Tom. "I think I'll
tell the headmaster anyway."
"Don't you dare!" Tom hissed, but before he could strike, the boy whipped out
his wand. Gold sparks flew out from the tip.
"You're without a wand," he said, smirking. "You're powerless without one. You
don't scare me."
And with that, the boy left.
Who does that bastard think he is? Tom wondered, his lips quivering in anger.
                                      ***
Who does that bastard think he is? Zacharias Smith thought. The Gryffindor kid
in front of him was still trembling as he ran down the stairs. He's the dark
lord? Ha! What a laugh!
Zacharias yawned, and his thoughts drifted to what he will have for dinner
later tonight.
                                      ***
"Tom! What the hell were you thinking?" Harry shrieked at him.
"Colin has been obsessively taking pictures of you whenever you were within his
range," Tom said, his arms folded as he lay back on the sofa. "That annoyed
me."
"Annoyed you?"
"Pity he's still breathing," Tom muttered to himself.
"Tom!" Harry collapsed next to Tom. "Tom..." Harry said in a gentler tone, "you
have to understand this. There are a lot of people like Colin out there. They
obsess over me. I've been something like an icon to them ever since I was a
baby."
"You don't like it," Tom said pointedly. "You always hate it when people look
at your scar!"
"Right, I don't like it," Harry agreed. "I never liked my fame, but it's
something you have to get used to. I don't want you going around attempting
murder just because people have pictures of me."
Harry sighed. "You really didn't like it, did you? Seeing Colin with dozens of
pictures of me..."
"It was more than dozens," Tom retorted. "More like close to a hundred."
Harry looked at Tom's face accusingly.
"I didn't keep the ones where you looked like a monkey," Tom replied after a
pause.
Harry sighed. "There's a war going on. People are dying every day, and here you
are getting jealous because some fan has taken pictures of your boyfriend."
When Tom didn't respond, Harry sighed again, shaking his head.
                                      ***
Luna skipped past students in the fifth floor hall, humming absentmindedly. The
raindrops that had splattered on her dorm window this morning had made a
strange little jingle, and Luna wished to memorize it.
"Luna!" someone called behind her. Luna guessed it was Harry, and sure enough,
the boy had caught up with her, panting slightly.
"Hello Harry," Luna greeted. "You sound troubled."
"Yeah," Harry said distractedly. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows
furrowed, and his lips partially opened. Luna wondered what was making him so
anxious. "Listen...Tom likes your company."
"He is an interesting individual," Luna said dreamily. "But he needs to learn
to control his temper more. He's like Cho Chang, in a way."
"Right," Harry said hurriedly. "Luna, I need to ask you a favor-"
"Hey, look!" a drawling voice carried over. Harry groaned while Luna searched
for the source. A pale boy with a pointy, rat-like face and a rather unsightly
expression was approaching them, accompanied by two larger boys. To Luna, the
two boys looked like large hairy boulders.
Harry grabbed Luna's hand.
"Let's go," he whispered in Luna ear, his breath blowing strands of blonde hair
against Luna's ear. She liked the feeling, but now didn't seem the appropriate
time to mull over such sensation.
"Oooo, look at Potter turning away," the boy snickered to his friends. "And
he's holding a girl's hand! You're not fooling anyone, queer!"
Luna didn't like the tone of his voice, and she was about to speak when Harry
cut in.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Just thought I'd see what this fairy was up to," Malfoy laughed. "Shouldn't
you be on your knees in front of your boyfriend right now?"
Luna's eyes widened, and she turned to Harry.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry spat back sarcastically. "I think I'll go
get my boyfriend right now to meet you. I'm sure Lord Voldemort would love to
hear you calling him a queer!" The three boys flinched at the name. "That's
right," Harry said. "I know all your fathers support him. Go and tell the Dark
Lord he's a little fairy if you're so brave, or tell his younger self who's
right here at Hogwarts and unstable as ever. I don't think the Killing Curse
alone will suffice in your case."
Malfoy struggled for a good retort.
"Scared?"
Malfoy didn't respond, but he turned to his friends and said, "Let's go." They
left.
Luna kept watching Harry, who was shaking with anger; she didn't understand...
"What's so wrong about being a fairy?" she asked.
Harry stared at her. "Luna...that's not a nice thing to call someone."
"Even if they are of Fae blood?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.
"Fae?" Harry repeated, bemused. "No, not Fae. Fairy, as in gay."
Luna shrugged. "My father says there shouldn't be words to distinguish one's
preference from another's. There isn't enough love in this world, and magic
kind and Muggles alike spend more time hating what others love rather than
focusing on what they love."
"I like your father," Harry said. "Did he...ever like a guy?"
"I believe my mother was a woman," Luna said in all seriousness. "I don't think
a guy would be able to give birth."
"Well, that's good..." Harry paused, and then the laughter came. Luna believed
in so many wild things, but underneath the zany theories and eccentric
appearance was a wise young lady. "I needed that. Thanks, Luna. I almost forgot
why I came to you."
"Tom Riddle," Luna reminded him.
"Oh, yeah..."
"He murdered Ginny Weasley," Luna said suddenly.
"Yeah," Harry said, checking to make sure no one was listening. "Luna, I trust
you with this information. Tom personally killed Ginny in the Chamber of
Secrets, but no one must know the truth. He has a court case this February, and
I need him to stay out of Azkaban. He mustn't leave my side. I wasn't kidding
when I said he is unstable."
"Why must he stay out of Azkaban, Harry?"
"Because only I can control him," Harry said. "No...you can control him too, if
you try. He likes you" - although he thinks you're a little weird, Harry added
in his mind - "and you don't know how extraordinary that is." His heart ached
with the next words he spoke. "Luna, you have to know this. Tom has trouble
developing connections with other people. He can't feel love for many people; I
taught him love, but he only seems responsive to me. He doesn't even like Ron
and Hermione! He can't live in this society like a normal person. He could hurt
everyone! I need you to be by him to control his emotions because I can't be
there all the time. I need you, Luna."
"Of course, Harry," she said, smiling. "We're going to be discussing my
father's latest articles this afternoon."
Thank Merlin forThe Quibbler, Harry thought.
                                      ***
Tom detested Hogwarts. It was once the only place he called home, but it had
now become his prison. Everyone knew his true identity; the bloody Daily
Prophet and the Death Eaters' children made sure of that. Everywhere he went
conversations hushed, and people stared at him as though he were about to kill
everyone in the room.
He sometimes wished he could kill them, but one step out of line meant he would
automatically be sent to Azkaban. The blonde Hufflepuff must have kept his word
about telling Professor Dumbledore because the old man followed him around,
appearing at every corner, demanding to know what he was doing. It was Tom's
fifth year all over again.
He was thankful for having Luna for company. Ironically, the strange girl was
the sanest student in this asylum. Hermione often tagged along; despite her
obvious crush on him, Hermione wasn't nearly as annoying as the other girls.
"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed at Luna. The two girls were sitting at
the same table as Tom. They had no other choice but to sit together. Tom
couldn't even enter the school library without two escorts to keep him away
from the Restricted Section.
Damn you, Dumbledore, Tom thought as he flipped a page, a notebook and quill
Luna had leant him in front of him. The time he spent not training Harry was
dedicated to preparing for the upcoming hearing.
"I'm sketching what the Pegustral looks like," Luna explained calmly. Two books
sat open in front of her. Items from her backpack were spilled all over the
table while Hermione's side was organized and the books neatly stacked on top
of each other.
"A what?" Hermione hissed. Tom was finding Hermione's irritated tone grating on
his nerves.
"Pegustral," Luna repeated. "They are the offspring of Thestrals and the
Abraxan winged horse."
"Pegustrals don't exist!"
"Oh yes they do."
"Then where can we find them?"
"They are invisible, like the Thestrals. They visit us in our dreams, and they
give us protection from nightmares. We never die in nightmares because the
Pegustrals pull us back to the real world."
Hermione snorted so loudly a few nearby students jumped. Tom sighed loudly, but
neither girl took notice of him.
"That's just ridiculous!" Hermione said angrily. "That's a stupid theory! You
don't have any proof of their existence!"
"But they do exist!" Luna insisted. Her voice was quickly losing its dreamy
tone, and a hint of anger was creeping in. "You're just too narrow-minded to
accept -"
"I'm narrow-minded? You belong in a loony bin! Do you know what other people
have been saying about you?"
"ENOUGH!" Tom slammed the book he was holding hard on the table, startling the
two girls. All the students in the vicinity stared at Tom, afraid to move.
Madam Pince's face appeared behind a bookshelf, but upon seeing Tom, she didn't
take another step.
"Listen," Tom addressed Hermione first, "you really are one of the brightest
witches currently enrolled at Hogwarts, but you have to be more open to the
possibility of new discoveries."
"But her theories are mad -"
"You would be called mad too if you told people in the fourteenth century that
the world was round!" Tom shot back. "In the seventeenth century, the Queen
would have ordered you to be put in prison if you claimed that the cause of
diseases was not demons but microscopic parasites!"
Hermione blinked, stunned.
"You see my point, Granger? And you" - Tom then turned to Luna - "your faith is
both incredible and admirable. You possess the same frame of mind as those
who've revolutionized the world, but please don't just blindly accept every
single piece of information that passes under your nose! You will not amount to
anything if you do not further explore these hypotheses!"
Hermione and Luna both opened their mouths, but Tom didn't give them any
chance.
"Shut up! Both of you!" Tom cried. "I don't want to hear any more from you
until you both gain a little more sense!"
He grabbed the notebook and quill, threw the books at Hermione's direction, and
stormed off. Tears were trailing down Hermione's pink cheeks while Luna just
stared ahead, her eyebrows disappearing behind her straggly bangs. The students
continued to stare at them before, thankfully, finally going back to their
activities.
Clearing her throat, Madam Pince approached the two girls and said, "If damage
was done to any of my books, you will pay the fine."
                                      ***
"Stupid bitches," Tom grumbled as he passed hallways with no destination in
mind. He stopped when he reached the stairs and decided to go find Harry. The
little brat was probably off with Ron and some of his friends.
If Cedric is anywhere near him, there will be murder tonight! he thought,
desperate for a fight with the Hufflepuff. Everyone loved Cedric Diggory. He
was popular, a Prefect, handsome...he was taking up the same spot Tom was in
half a century ago...and Harry...Tom hated seeing Cedric speak with Harry,
hated how Harry seemed to welcome his company...
"Tom!"
Tom turned around to see Harry running up to him, accompanied by Ron, Neville,
and Dean.
"Tom, Professor Dumbledore needs to see us, I just got news." He paused.
"Where's Luna? Weren't you supposed to be with her?"
"I just gave Lady Luna and Miss Granger a piece of my mind," Tom said
arrogantly, glancing at the three boys behind Harry; Neville and Dean cast
anxious looks at Tom while Ron glared at him. He walked past them, cutting
between Neville and Dean.
"Should we go with you?" Ron asked Harry.
"Nah, you guys go ahead," Harry said, patting Ron's shoulder. "Make sure
Hermione and Luna are all right."
"Okay," Ron said as Harry ran after Tom. "See ya, mate!"
"What does Dumbledore want to talk to us about now?" Tom said when Harry caught
up with him. "Hasn't he already informed us of everything we needed to know
about the first war?"
"I don't know what it's for," Harry said honestly. "We've met people from the
Order of the Phoenix. Maybe he wants to recruit us for the Order."
"Don't be ridiculous," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "You're still considered too
young, and he knows I'll never agree to work with him."
"Well...we'll find out soon, won't we?" Harry said as they came face to face
with the large stone gargoyle.
"Piña Colada," Harry said, and the gargoyle moved aside. Tom raised his
eyebrows at Harry. Smiling, Harry shrugged and ascended the stairs.
                                      ***
"You wanted to see us, Professor?" Harry asked when he and Tom entered.
"Yes, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "Please, take your usual seats."
They sat, as always, on the two chairs across from where Professor Dumbledore
sat. Tea and biscuits were laid out before them, and in the middle of the desk
sat a large stone basin.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes rested on Tom for a few moments before continuing.
"What I am about to reveal to you tonight were the exact words of our
Divination professor. It concerns you both."
He motioned to a large stone basin in front of him.
"Concerns us both?" Harry repeated. He caught Tom's eye.
"This news may affect your relationship," Professor Dumbledore gently warned
Harry.
Tom and Harry shared another look, seemingly to communicate silently.
"We're ready," Harry said.
                                      ***
Not a single word was exchanged between Tom and Harry as they left Professor
Dumbledore's office and made their back to their little home on the third
floor. When Harry closed the door, they stood in awkward silence.
Finally, Harry took tentative steps towards Tom and gently wrapped his fingers
around his throat.
"How would you like me to kill you?" Harry asked in a gentle voice, trying to
keep his smile from faltering. Tom turned around; they stared at each other for
the longest time. A nervous chuckle followed, and soon the two boys were
laughing.
"I don't think the prophecy applies to us," Tom finally said with a wave of his
hand. "We're immortal. We're both going to live, both going to survive. The man
who marked you as his equal is another part of me; I wasn't the one who gave
you that scar. I am not included in the prophecy."
"You don't think so?" Harry asked, relieved.
"I thought over it," Tom replied. "I'm positive about it. How can you destroy
me? You saw the Killing Curse hit me several times!"
"But then that still means...I have to defeat Voldemort," Harry said gloomily.
"Then do it," Tom said conversationally. "I'll help you with it."
Harry's jaw dropped. "Tom...he's your-"
"We've been through this talk before," Tom interrupted firmly. "I have no
attachment to that side of me. You're free to destroy him any way you like!"
"I'm not a murderer!" Harry declared.
Tom snorted. "Murder is not that difficult. Stop a man's heart from beating;
there's nothing more to it. A simple spell can achieve that."
Harry just stared at Tom; the maniacal look in his friend's eyes was all too
reminiscent of when they fought in the Chamber...
No, Harry thought to himself. Tom's not like that anymore. He's gaining a
conscience...
"Can people ignore prophecies?" Harry asked. "Can't I just choose not to
fulfill it?"
"So you're going to let the part of me who nearly drove us both to insanity
just run free?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "You are pathetic, weak!"
Harry bit his lower lip. "Fine, I am weak," he said. "I refuse to fight. I'm
not like you."
Harry's last words still bothered him as he slipped under the covers. The
bedroom door was partially shut, but Harry listened as Tom moved around. When
Harry heard the door to Tom's bedroom close, his lower lip trembled. The
reality of everything he heard in Professor Dumbledore's office hit him hard at
that moment.
I don't want to kill anyone, Harry thought, his eyes wide open. I don't want to
take anyone's life away! Time passed, but he couldn't sleep.
Unbeknownst to him, Tom was also wide awake.
It was past midnight when the two boys sat up in their beds. Falling asleep was
out of the question. They slipped out from their beds, Harry's blanket wrapped
around himself. They each made for the door and pushed the door open at the
same time.
"Oh!" Harry said. Tom just stared at him. "Are you having trouble sleeping
too?"
"It appears so," Tom replied. Even in the dark, Harry could make out the faint
smile on Tom's face.
Harry led Tom back to the tiny living room, neither sure of what to say. Harry
settled down on the couch.
"I still have my blanket with me," Harry said, "if you want to sit down here
too."
Tom took the offer, and Harry wrapped the blanket snugly around them both. He
slid down the couch until he could comfortable rest his head on Tom's lap. He
buried his face in Tom's stomach and wrapped his arms around his waist. Tom
noted that Harry held him tighter than usual. He didn't comment on this while
his fingers found themselves entangled in Harry's hair.
They stayed like this, never talking, both enjoying the tranquil silence. They
didn't know how long it was before they fell asleep.
***** Chapter Seventeen - Riddle vs. the Wizengamot *****

      [http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v243/arbor_vitae/Harry%20Potter/
                                kms_cover.gif]
                           Artwork by Slytherinfiend

                               Chapter Seventeen
                           Riddle vs. the Wizengamot
                                        
                  "In the end, we will remember not the words
               of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
                           - Martin Luther King Jr.
                                     *****
Vivian had been legally known as the wife of Lord Voldemort for the past six
months, but the couple had not slept together since Vivian received her Dark
Mark. However, she never questioned why he did not bed her; in her mind, they
were a perfectly stable couple that ate meals together and sat by the firelight
in the evenings.
Lord Voldemort made sure the young woman never bothered him. She rocked in her
chair, her unfocused eyes staring at a point far off in space, and occasionally
muttered nonsense under her breath. He only roused her to send her on missions
with other Death Eaters. She acted normally then, although the fake memories of
their marriage still floated in her mind.
No one ever had suspicions.
Voldemort found himself slipping into Harry Potter's mind more often. He could
see what went on at night; Harry's mind was changing, finally catching up to
his body's appearance. The boy's thoughts on Voldemort's younger self were
steadily becoming less innocent. A mischievous grin was plastered on Harry's
face as he daydreamt in his tiny bedroom, thinking back to the night Tom gave
him his first climax.
He raised his head, made sure Tom wasn't anywhere near the bedroom, then
slipped his quivering hands under the covers. Voldemort pulled himself away
from Harry's mind at that moment. He tried to convince himself that he did not
wish to see any more, but a tiny part of him inside was shamefully attracted to
the act...no one would know if he went back and looked...
"No," he hissed to himself angrily, his fingers gripping the sides of the
armchair tightly. He looked up at where his wife sat in the corner. I am not
like him!
                                      ***
Harry kept his eyes on Tom throughout breakfast.
"Er, Tom..." Harry said, watching Tom's hands clench and unclench nervously
near his glass of pumpkin juice, "I've never seen you this nervous before." He
met Tom's eyes. "You are prepared for the hearing, right?"
"Of course," Tom said. "It's natural to feel nervous before such an important
event."
"I hope you won't be like that during the hearing."
"I won't," Tom assured him. He took a swig of pumpkin juice; he still hadn't
touched his bowl of porridge. "I need to see Miss Granger and Luna before I
go," Tom suddenly said.
"What for?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure if Tom appearing in the Great Hall
right before his trial was a good idea.
"Oh, I punished the two girls for annoying me so much in the past few months,"
Tom explained casually. "I had them do a little research that might aid me in
my defense. I must see them right away."
He got up abruptly and made for the door. Harry knew that it would be pointless
to talk Tom into waiting till the students left the Great Hall, so he ran after
Tom to the third floor corridor and down the grand staircase.
"What is it that they were researching?" Harry asked as they entered, trying
his best to ignore the hundred pairs of eyes that turned towards them.
"Oh, just a recent amendment to a rule," Tom said vaguely, smiling faintly.
Luna was sitting next to Hermione, looking over some papers while
absentmindedly grabbing food from Hermione's plate. Hermione looked like it was
taking all her willpower not to explode at Luna.
"Oh!" Hermione said when she noticed them. Ron looked up from his bowl of
cereal, a big frown on his face.
"Did you find it?" Tom asked.
"Yes, I think we did," Hermione said as Luna handed Tom a small stack of
papers.
Owls were pouring in from the windows, dropping off mail and packages. An eagle
owl had found Hermione, and she was soon busy attending to her mail while Tom
skimmed through the papers.
"Got your answer?" Harry asked while peeking behind Tom's shoulder, wondering
what it was Tom had planned.
"Yes," Tom said after a while, clearly pleased. "This will help me immensely."
"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked.
They all turned to Hermione. She was staring down at something in her hand. Her
eyes were wide, her face eerily white. She seemed to be struggling to breathe.
"Oh...oh my..." she croaked, gasping for breath. A few other students,
including Neville and Dean, were now watching.
"Hermione?" Ron asked again, panic seeping into his voice. Harry then realized
that she was looking at a bunch of photos; Tom, who was standing right behind
Hermione and looking over her shoulder, had a curious look on his face. Harry
made for the photos, but Tom was quicker.
Tom took one glance at the photos before rounding on Ron, Dean, and Neville.
"Take her to the infirmary - now!" Tom ordered. "She's been traumatized!"
Neville and Dean jumped to their feet and helped Hermione out of her seat. She
was trembling, and by the time Ron caught up with her, she was wailing
uncontrollably.
Luna's eyes never left Hermione.
"Tom, what's going on?" Harry asked, worried. A few professors were rushing
towards them. "What's in those photos?"
"I don't want you to see them," Tom said firmly.
"Why?"
"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall demanded as she, Professor
Dumbledore, and Professor Snape reached them.
"Her parents," Tom said. "They were murdered. These photos are of what remains
of their bodies."
Harry gasped. Luna blinked; her eyes widened.
"Let me see them," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Are you sure?" Tom said, and there was an odd seriousness in his voice.
Professor Dumbledore stretched out his hand.
"I am sure," Professor Dumbledore said.
Tom glanced at Professor McGonagall. "Don't let any lady see it," he said
seriously before handing it. Harry's curiosity got the better of him; he
shifted around until he could look behind Professor Snape.
Harry wished he hadn't looked. He could barely make out which bloody body was
Hermione's mother and which was her father.
He quickly looked away.
Poor Hermione! Harry thought, his heart constricting painfully. The images
wouldn't leave him. He met Tom's eyes. How could anyone do this?
Professor Dumbledore led Professor McGonagall and Snape out of the Great Hall,
and Harry followed, Tom close by. From the corner of his eye, Harry caught
Draco smirking with his pet eagle owl.
"Bastard!" Harry hissed under his breath. "That's the same eagle owl that gave
Hermione the photos!"
"How are you sure?" Tom asked in their tongue.
"It was an eagle owl!" Harry insisted.
"The markings on this owl's wings are different," Tom observed.
"Good point," Harry said, defeated. "But he knows what's happened, and he's
happy about it! I hate that smirk!"
"You think he's involved?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "That's Lucius Malfoy's son."
"A Malfoy?" Tom said. "I hated Abraxas Malfoy when I was a student. He thought
me too poor to be allowed into Slytherin."
"But if you hated Abraxas Malfoy so much, why is Lucius Malfoy supporting
Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"No idea," Tom said.
They had reached the infirmary. Hermione was lying in one of the beds while
Madam Pomfrey tended to her. She still looked pale, but she was no longer
trembling.
"She will be fine," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Madam Pomfrey gave Hermione a potion," Neville added. "The smell was awful,
but it's helped her." Hermione's eyes turned to Harry and Tom. She looked as
though she was on verge of sleep.
"What happened, Professor?" Dean asked Professor Dumbledore.
"Her parents were murdered," Professor Dumbledore replied gravely. "The
murderers sent her the photographs of what remains of their bodies."
Neville whimpered; Dean looked sick.
"I'm so sorry," Dean whispered, glancing at Hermione sympathetically. Ron, who
was sitting beside the bed, took Hermione's hand and gave her a gentle squeeze.
A single tear ran down Hermione's check, but she did not move.
"Madam Pomfrey, I'd like to have a few words with you," Professor Dumbledore
said.
"Yes, Professor," Madam Pomfrey said. Professors McGonagall and Snape followed
Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey into her office.
Everyone stood quietly for a few moments.
"I saw my mother die," Luna suddenly spoke, her dreamy voice breaking the
silence. She was staring at Hermione.
"Luna?" Harry said out loud. He had never known...
"You mother died?" Hermione asked in a small voice, looking as bewildered as
Harry. She was suddenly more awake.
"Oh, yes," Luna said gently. She settled herself on the edge of the bed and
took Hermione's free hand. "She was an extraordinary witch, you know, but she
did like to experiment. One of her experiments went wrong..."
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, looking at Luna as though it was the first time she
had ever seen her.
"Oh, it was sad," Luna said calmly. "I do miss her terribly. But I still have
my father."
"I have no one left," Hermione said, a tightness creeping in her voice. "I
don't have a home to go to anymore."
"What are you talking about?" Ron said. "You have us!" he motioned to the
entire room. "You can live with my family in the summer!"
"Ron's right, Hermione," Harry said. "You're not alone. My parents died too."
"You're not the only one," Neville comforted her. "My parents..." he trailed
off. "I live with my Gran," he finally said.
"I never knew what happened to my biological father," Dean said. "I assume he
died."
Harry glanced at Tom, who was watching everything silently. "Tom is an orphan
too," Harry said.
"And I lost my sister..." Ron added.
"Everyone here has someone," Luna said kindly. "You won't be alone, Hermione.
We'll get through this together. We're here for you."
"Thank you." Hermione's voice was barely audible. Her hand slipped out from
Ron's, and she buried her face in Luna's shoulder. Harry could hear muffled
cries. Luna wrapped her hands around Hermione in a motherly matter and patted
her back, whispering soothingly to her. Harry felt an incredible amount of
affection for Luna at that moment.
The door to Madam Pomfrey's office swung open, and the professors and
headmaster poured out.
"Don't you have a place you should be heading to right now?" Professor
Dumbledore asked Tom as Madam Pomfrey went to Hermione's side.
"That's right!" Harry gasped, grabbing Tom's arm. Tom was preoccupied, staring
at the two girls. "The hearing!"
"Oh!" Tom snapped out of his reverie. Together they ran after Professor
Dumbledore to the giant oak doors.
"I can't believe what I saw back there," Tom said as they made for the
staircase.
"Me neither," Harry said distractedly. "I don't think Hermione will be fighting
with Luna for a long time."
Professor Dumbledore and a couple of Ministry officials were waiting for them
next to one of the school carriages. Harry turned away from the Thestrals; with
a horrible jolt in his stomach, he realized that Hermione would be able to see
them from now on.
"You ready?" he asked Tom shakily.
"Yes," Tom said. "You, on the other hand, are a nervous wreck."
Harry grabbed Tom's arms. "Stay out of Azkaban, got that?" He whispered, giving
Tom a soft kiss on the cheek. Their lips met briefly before Tom pushed Harry
away. Harry watched as Tom slipped into the carriage, soon followed by
Professor Dumbledore.
"You better come back," Harry mumbled under his breath as the carriage
disappeared beyond the iron gates.
                                      ***
The trip to the Ministry was uneventful. Tom took the time to clear his mind,
speaking only when spoken to. The Ministry officials distrusted him, so they
magically handcuffed him with invisible binds; Tom made sure to be on his best
behavior so they wouldn’t have any reason to tighten security around him.
He spent the majority of the trip gazing out the window, his mind drifting back
to the traumatized Hermione and Luna comforting her. Many times Tom pondered
why Luna was so kind to Hermione when she was so disrespectful of Luna's
beliefs. The image of them together had set off an uncomfortable memory in his
mind...a Ravenclaw and Gryffindor...they were so very much like Eileen and
Marilyn...
Tom shook himself out of his reverie; he would not let his late friends get to
him. Especially not today.
The Ministry and the journey to the courtroom was far more boring and tiresome
than Tom had imagined it to be. He was shoved hither and thither, his image
taken, and his papers filed before he was finally sent along. Some time during
procedures, Professor Dumbledore disappeared.
Tom's presence drew attention at every corner. Witches and wizards regarded him
with disgusted looks. Tom soon learned that the Ministry officials walking
around him were more for his own protection than the safety of the Ministry
workers.
Tom was led down the dark passage to the courtroom. He willed his heart to
steady as two Aurors brought him in. The entire Wizengamot were there;
fortunately, there were several witches in the room.
That's going to make my plan run much more smoothly, Tom thought as he was
seated on a hard wooden chair. The binds around his wrists were taken off, but
almost immediately his wrists and ankles where clamped tight by the magical
chains attached to the chair.
Tom scanned the rows of plum-colored robes, noticing that Professor Dumbledore
wasn't among them.
But isn't he the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? Tom asked, trying not to
appear concerned by this. Although their animosity for each other was as
terrible as ever, Tom knew that Professor Dumbledore wanted him out of Azkaban
as much as Harry did.
"The hearing may proceed!" the witch at the center of the first row announced
to the entire courtroom. She examined one of the parchments in her hand and
read, "Trial of the sixteenth of February for the murder of Ginevra Molly
Weasley, allegedly committed by Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"Interrogators: Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement..."
Tom's insides squirmed, but he kept his breathing to a normal rhythm, not
allowing his heart to jump to his throat. He made sure he neither blinked too
frequently nor too sparingly, and he constantly checked his posture, making
certain his hands weren't clenched or his shoulders hunched. All eyes were on
him; this was just like when Professor Dumbledore first interrogated him on the
Chamber of Secrets more than half a century ago.
Look calm, believe you are innocent, and they will believe it, he told himself.
"Witness for the defense: Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,"
Madam Bone's booming voice broke into Tom's thoughts.
Tom spun around just in time to see Professor Dumbledore give a nod to the
Wizengamot.
So, that's where he's been! Tom thought. But why didn't he ever mention to me
that he was to be a witness? He turned back to the Wizengamot. What if the
buffoon is trying to spoil my plans? he thought, staring daggers in Professor
Dumbledore's direction.
Don't be ridiculous, another part of him told him in a voice that was very much
like Harry. Just trust him.
"Tom Riddle, you are here this day because you have allegedly murdered an
eleven-year-old girl, abducted and attempted murder of a twelve-year-old boy,
and terrorized the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with
a basilisk. The reports against you state that you fed the girl to the basilisk
shortly after killing her."
"I don't recall ever giving the girl to the basilisk," Tom said calmly.
Madam Bones regarded him with fierce eyes. She adjusted her monocle.
"Oh? Why not tell us your side of the story," she said sternly.
"I do not know what killed her," Tom said in a soft voice. "When I left the
diary, she was already pale and still."
"The diary?"
"Yes ma'am," Tom said. "As I'm sure everyone in this room already knows, my
future self is the Dark Lord." He took a deep breath. "I am a part of him, a
fragment of his soul. I was kept inside a diary until I could find a way out.
"I slowly grew stronger as words were poured into my diary. On the night in
question, I became strong enough to develop a corporal form. I was able to
leave the diary, and when I was out, I saw for the first time the body of the
little girl who had written in it. She was dead, perhaps from writing in my
diary. But I would have never thought writing in my diary would be detrimental
to anyone."
"What do you mean?" Madam Bones asked skeptically.
"I put myself in the diary just to preserve my own life. I didn't think it
would take away another's." He paused, furrowing his eyebrows as though he was
deeply disturbed over the girl's death. He fell into silence, appearing as
though he was thinking hard about the situation. "I suppose my older self must
have put a curse on the diary after I entered it. He's done so many horrible
things that it wouldn't surprise me."
"So why were you in the Chamber of Secrets?" Madam Bones next asked.
"I do not know," Tom said softly. "Harry Potter was there. He was frightened
and ready to fight. I took him with me."
"And the basilisk?"
"I did not know what the basilisk did after I left with Harry. I wasn't
interested in it."
Both eyebrows raised, Madam Bones gave a short dry laugh and rested back on her
chair. "So you're saying that the basilisk happened to eat the girl and decided
to crawl up the school?"
"It's possible that's what happened," Tom said. "I was far away with the boy by
then."
"Why did you take the boy?"
"I knew who he was," Tom said. "I knew about his destruction of my future self.
I was curious about what his special powers were and if he was capable of
hurting me as well. But as you well know, our relationship changed."
"Indeed it has," Madam Bones said curtly. "Articles and gossip ranging from
surrogate brothers to horror stories of the boy being raped."
"Oh, I assure you rape was never involved," Tom said kindly, making a mental
note to strangle the journalist who published that article. "You can take a
look into my mind; I do not lie."
Professor Dumbledore regarded him, but Tom simply smiled.
"Take him out," Madam Bones ordered. "Investigate him."
                                      ***
Tucking the parchment inside his robes, Sirius left the Hogwarts staff room.
Professor McGonagall had given him instructions passed from Professor
Dumbledore concerning new orders for the Order of the Phoenix. Though grateful
for his freedom, Sirius was bogged down with so much work. He did not mind,
being eager to help Professor Dumbledore in any way possible, but he did wish
he could have just one chance to meet his godson.
Just as those thoughts were running through his mind, Harry and a friend
stepped out of the school's infirmary.
"You need to get to class, Ron," Harry said. "You can come back later."
"You're right," Ron said heavily. He looked back at the door as though he could
see Hermione through the hardwood. "See ya later, mate."
"Give Snape a hard time for me," Harry said, smiling. Ron's face cracked into a
brief grin.
Sirius watched from afar until Harry's friend was out of earshot before
approaching Harry.
"Hello," Harry said politely, looking up to meet his eyes.
Sirius smiled. The boy resembled his father so much, yet there was his mother's
kind, compassionate eyes looking at him.
"Hello, Harry," Sirius said. "I'm Sirius Black, and I'm from the Order."
"Nice to meet you," Harry said, shaking his hand.
"I was just coming by to pick up more instructions from Professor Dumbledore,"
Sirius continued, give his left breast pocket a light tap. "I never had the
chance to stop and talk much." He glanced down at his wristwatch; it was too
tempting... "Say, do you have some time to spare right now?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. "I don't really have much to do today. Hermione's
sleeping in the infirmary...she's a bit of a wreck right now, she needs her
sleep..."
"Yes, I heard," Sirius said softly.
"Um, wanna come in?"
"Nah, don't want to wake her up," Sirius said. "There's a lot I want to tell
you, Harry."
"Like what?" Harry cocked his head to one side, suddenly more curious about
him.
"Well, for one I'd like to apologize for not being a part of your life more
often," Sirius said. "Oh, this will take some explaining. Here, come with me."
Harry watched him, never speaking during Sirius's tale, but his eyes were wide.
"You knew my father!" Harry gasped, staring at Sirius. "I thought I recognized
you! You were my dad's best man in his wedding! I have a photo of you!"
"Do you really?" Sirius asked.
"Yes! Hagrid collected photos of my parents and gave them to me at the end of
my first year," Harry said. He gazed out towards the lake, the wind blowing
against his face. The weather was tranquil today, a brief moment of calm after
many nights of rain and gloom.
"Godfather..." Harry sighed. "I had a godfather all this time, and I didn't
know. Merlin, what's Tom going to think when he hears this!" He looked back at
Sirius as though making sure all this was real, that Sirius was solid and not
going to disappear at any moment.
"Ah, Tom," Sirius said. "Your friend from the World Cup. Yes, Harry, I know
about the extent of your relationship."
Harry's eyebrows shot up.
"Well, I shouldn't be surprised. There isn't anyone in the world who doesn't
know about it," Harry said in an unconvincingly calm voice. Moments passed in
awkward silence before Harry spoke again. "Er...Mr. Black?"
"Just call me Sirius, Harry."
"Sirius...how do you think my mum and dad would have felt about...about me?"
Sirius paused, thinking fast on how to approach the question. "Well,
Harry...your mother wouldn't have cared, as long you were happy."
"And my dad?" Harry inquired, his eyes never leaving Sirius. When there was no
response after a moment of hesitation, Harry said, defeated, "Never mind."
Sirius sighed as Harry looked away; he didn't want anything like this to
happen.
"And you? What do you think?" Harry asked timidly after he had some time to
think. He turned back to face Sirius.
"Me?" Sirius said. "Harry, I'm grateful you're still alive! That's what's most
important to me!"
Harry smiled, a little less hurt.
"So tell me what your life's been like since you arrived at the Dursleys."
Harry laughed, now relaxed. "Where do I begin?" he said. Sirius listened
attentively, rolling his eyes at the Dursleys' treatment of his godson. The
guilt that had been eating at him returned as Sirius learned how empty and
lonely Harry's childhood was; had he been present in Harry's life, he would
have had a happier time as a child. A tear threatened to fall as Harry
described the first ever birthday card he ever received in his life.
"Harry...I am so sorry," Sirius said heavily. "Had I know, I would have tried
breaking out of Azkaban."
"They didn't even allow you to write a letter?"
"Nothing!" Sirius said. "No prisoner is alive in Azkaban, though their hearts
still tick."
"That's awful!"
"Only if you're innocent." Sirius murmured to himself, "Bloody Ministry didn't
even give me a proper trial."
"If they're that ruthless, what about Tom then?"
"Professor Dumbledore will look after him, I guarantee it," Sirius said. "He
cares deeply for you, Harry. If you want Tom out of Azkaban, Dumbledore will
make sure he's out of there."
"A couple of years ago, Professor Dumbledore would have thrown Tom in there
without a second thought," Harry said with a laugh. "But he's seen how good Tom
has been for me. He's taught me magic and helped me gain weight!"
Sirius glanced at him with a funny look. "Gained weight? My, most people I know
struggle to keep their weight down."
"I struggled to keep my weight up," Harry said. "I've never eaten so much
before and so many different dishes! Ever had tiramisu?"
"Er, no, I don't think I have."
"We did. We also had grape leaves, hummus, and falafel. That's all from Middle
Eastern restaurants. Oh, and they have stuffed lamb stomachs." Sirius's
eyebrows shot up. "I liked it! And we've had food from all over the world.
Fried plantains and sushi of all kinds, but I still refuse to eat uni; those
are the gonads from sea urchins. Tom loves it though. I can't even look at it.
But I've eaten two lobsters in one sitting, at Tom's insistence!"
"And where do you get the money for all these fancy dishes?"
Harry hesitated. "We...sorta faked the money."
Sirius sighed. "I am not surprised. But you are looking good."
"I've looked better," Harry said. "I've gotten paler since the Quiddith Cup."
"Partly to do with the torture Voldemort inflicted on you."
"Maybe," Harry said. "I've never felt the same since then, to be honest. I keep
getting these migraines." He stared off into space before continuing. "I
protected Peter Pettigrew when Voldemort was resurrected. I didn't know he had
betrayed you as well."
"He's no friend of mine," Sirius said quickly.
"I'm sure there's still good in him," Harry said.
"You're still young," Sirius mumbled.
"I'm involved with a mini Voldemort," Harry said. "I think I know a thing or
two about humans' minds." There was no bitterness in his voice. He smiled at
Sirius. "So are you a free man now?"
"Of course," Sirius said. "Colin snapped a picture of him. It's all the
evidence they need."
"Do you have your own place?"
"No, my bitch of a cousin burned the house down!" Sirius growled, surprising
Harry with his outburst.
"Er...sorry to hear that," Harry said tentatively. "Where are you staying
then?"
"Here and there," Sirius said. "The Order's headquarters."
"Tom and I have a nice place," Harry said. "Aside from here, that is. I don't
know what he'd think if I asked him to have you over." I don't know how he'll
react to me having a godfather, Harry added in his mind.
"I hope Tom likes you," Harry suddenly blurted out. "Er, he has problems
forming connections with other people."
Chuckling, Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "I'll be especially kind to him," he
promised.
                                      ***
The interrogators were flabbergasted.
Tom was smiling inwardly as he was led back into the courtroom. The chains
resumed their tight hold of his wrists; Tom's expression remained neutral.
"What have you found?" Madam Bones asked one of the interrogators.
"Everything he has told you is the absolute truth," the eldest spoke first. "We
dug deep into his mind, unraveled the entire events on the twenty-third of May
in 1993. He drew out of the diary, developing a corporal form, and then noticed
the dead girl several feet away from him. He caught sight of Harry Potter, who
had just arrived to save the girl. Recognizing him as the boy who defeated his
older self, Tom attacked him. They quarreled, ending with Riddle taking the boy
away. The basilisk wasn't even seen. Riddle never spoke to the basilisk.
"Madam, we dug very deep into his mind; there's not a trace of wickedness in
him! There was never an intention to kill the girl."
"That will be all," Madam Bones said. Tom watched the disbelief play in her
eyes. A couple of witches and wizards exchanged hushed words over the news.
Tom was innocent! He did not murder Ginny Weasley! Impossible! The ends of
Tom's lips threatened to curl.
"Professor Dumbledore," Madam Bones's booming voice silenced all whispered
conversations. Anger, disbelief, and desperation dripped from her tone. "What
can you tell us of this boy?"
Tom's back and arms muscles tensed, but the Harry-like voice in his head
repeated, trust him.
"Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle was the most brilliant student I had ever seen walk
unto Hogwarts grounds," Professor Dumbledore said. "As you well know from his
records, he's received numerous honors and awards from the school. He was
polite to everyone, humbled by his childhood at the orphanage. It's such a
shock to know what this boy has grown up into, but people do change, Madam
Bones. We must not penalize this boy for crimes his older self has committed.
He is clearly free of guilt."
"But is it true you didn't like him as much as the other professors?"
"Oh, it was envy, I confess."
Laughter erupted in scattered areas of the court room. Tom allowed himself a
smile.
Madam Bones set her eyes back on Tom. "There is still the matter of the girl's
death."
"I do not think it is wise to punish the lad for a crime he did not
perpetrate," Professor Dumbledore spoke up. "As the interrogators informed us,
there is not a drop of wickedness inside him. He had never intended to murder
Miss Weasley. The death was purely an unfortunate accident."
"Oh? And what about the basilisk? Why was it there?"
"I never called the basilisk forth," Tom replied calmly. "I believe it came out
due to the smell of..." He paused, biting his lip, looking disturbed.
"Why were you in the Chamber of Secrets?"
"It was where the monster resided," Tom Riddle said. "I had helped capture the
culprit of the attacks in my time. The idea possessed me; I wanted to know what
the creature was, what it was that I had saved the school from."
Her scrutinizing eyes never left him.
"Any other reason why we should not lock you up?" she asked.
"I cannot control whatever your decision will be," Tom said. "However, I did
read about a new amendment passed not more than three years ago." This was it,
the piece of information he required from the two girls. "Correct me if I am
wrong, but I believe the new law states that no one who's has had trauma to the
brain can be sent to Azkaban. Research had proven that 'scars on the brain,' as
the researchers had called it, results in severely dire effects when in the
presence of a Dementor. They do not lose their mind. Rather, they..." his voice
cracked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"The Dementors have a reverse effect," he continued in a nervous voice. "The
psychotic inmates have been known to try and escape, murdering anyone in their
paths, even their loved ones. They completely lose their mind and any sense of
reason, but they also become a threat to everyone around them." He turned to
his interrogators. "I was inflicted with terrible curses when Voldemort
abducted me."
"He is not lying," the youngest interrogator said. "We saw scars all over his
mind. He's suffered grand mal seizures from the curses."
Several of the ladies gasped, followed by hushed whispers.
Poor boy, and he's so polite!
Madam Bones fell into contemplation, disappearing behind her papers. Tom caught
sight of the one of the witches watching him. He gave her a small, sweet and
shy smile.
"Poor dear," the witch whispered to her friend. In his mind, Tom sneered. He
got her. He got them.
He turned back to Madam Bones. "Madam Bones," he said tentatively, "with this
knowledge, do you think it wise to send an innocent mentally scarred man to
Azkaban?"
She regarded him again, but Tom noticed that her stare was less piercing than
before.
"Judges, please exit the room and make your final decision," she ordered.
                                      ***
I have a godfather, Harry kept thinking in a daze. A godfather!
"Hey, Harry," Ron's voice broke through his content reverie.
"Yeah?" Harry asked, looking at his friend. Hermione was not far away, working
furiously at her class assignments. Instead of taking a break from her studies,
Hermione seemed to have gained a new mania to succeed in her education.
"My mother and father wouldn't like it if I stopped just because they died!"
she had snapped at them when they had asked her gently to rest.
"Looks like she's back to normal," Ron had said teasingly to Harry.
However, Ron was no longer smiling. Harry had a feeling he knew what was on his
mind.
"He's going to win this case," Ron said bitterly, kicking the leg of the
nearest infirmary bed.
"It's better for him and us if he's not in Azkaban," Harry explained to Ron for
what seemed like the hundredth time.
"And what about Ginny?" Ron said forlornly. "I can't just let my sister's
murder go unpunished! Hey, maybe I can give him one good hex, just to, you
know, settle the score a little."
Harry laughed. "Hex Tom Riddle?" He caught sight of Hermione glaring at them
with mad, bulging eyes, her pale face obscured by extremely frizzy and wild
hair. Harry quickly lowered his voice. "Jeez, you'd think she was possessed by
Pazuzu."
Ron shivered. "Well, why not?" he said. "About Riddle, that is."
"Well...you could hex him and try to get away as fast as you can, but are you
sure you want to risk that?"
"You know they're going to let him go," Ron said. "What does Ginny get out of
this?"
"Then, if you want, you have my permission," Harry said. "Just don't do
anything too stupid or extreme. Just a simple hex, okay? That's all I'm
allowing. And get out as fast as you can. If worse comes to worse, I'll handle
Tom." Harry studied Ron for a while. It was a stupid idea, but he could not
find any reason to dissuade his best friend. Harry's stomach squirmed as he
reminded himself that it was because of him that Ron was never going to get
justice for Ginny's murder.
"Yeah, I'll hex him, just to do something," Ron said, nodding decisively.
                                      ***
Innocent.
He was cleared of all charges.
Tom sat with his hands folded on his lap, watching the Wizengamot politely. His
arrival to the courtroom seemed like it had happened days ago, but he
determinedly kept his well-mannered façade even though deep inside he wanted to
laugh at his triumph.
He found himself politely thanking anyone who congratulated him.
"Such a sweet lad," he overheard one of the elderly witches whispering to her
friend. "Such a pity what he has become."
"Oh, but this boy will be different, surely," her friend said. "He has seen the
horrors of his future self. He will not make the same mistakes."
Tom resisted a sneer.
Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him near the elevators. No words were
exchanged between them until they got back in the Ministry car. As the car sped
on back to Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore waved his wand before them, casting
an invisible shield of some kind, separating them from the driver.
"There, that should give us opportunity to talk," Professor Dumbledore said.
"That was an impressive display."
Tom relaxed in his seat. "I modified my mind," he said. "All of it." He arched
his head back and ran his fingers through his hair as though he was rinsing
under the shower. He could feel the fake memories slipping away and
disintegrating as though rain had washed the memories from his mind.
"Modified your entire mind?" Professor Dumbledore questioned. "I have never
heard such thing. Normally concerned individuals can modify one or two
memories, but they are always caught. You, however, had your mind examined
meticulously, and the interrogators did not discover your deception.."
"I invented it," Tom said. "I've been researching and developing this little
trick for months. I compressed my entire real memory and tucked it safely into
a region of the subconscious mind where not even the most expert Legilimens
could uncover it."
He ran one hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. A dull headache was
setting in.
"Impressive," Professor Dumbledore repeated. "But I should not be surprised
really, for you truly were the most gifted pupil to ever attend Hogwarts. Do
you not worry that they might interrogate other people you have had contact
with since your escape from the diary?"
"Their words against mine," Tom said smugly. "The investigators would never
imagine that I could modify so many of my memories, so of course they would
take me at my word." He looked out the window, a large grin plastered on his
face, but not for long. The pain of his headache rapidly increased tenfold. A
metallic taste filled his mouth, and he felt pins and needles all over his
body. He pressed on his temples and gave a sharp cry. Professor Dumbledore
watched him.
"You overworked your mind," Professor Dumbledore said gravely. "Don't forget
the damage Lord Voldemort inflicted on you."
"The Healer said I would be fine!" Tom gasped.
"Not if you put so much stress on your mind as you have done today," Professor
Dumbledore said.
"No!" Tom scratched his head violently; he was rapidly losing control. "No, no,
n-n-no, n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-no..."
"Oh dear," Professor Dumbledore sighed. He pulled Tom away from the window lest
his head smashed against the surface. Waving his wand around, Professor
Dumbledore stretched out the back seat enough to lay Tom across, moving away
enough so Tom's convulsing body did not strike him. He rummaged through his
robes for the appropriate potions; he'd had a feeling Tom’s condition would
relapse eventually...
"No crime goes unpunished, Tom," Professor Dumbledore said gently, although he
knew Tom could not hear him at that moment.
                                      ***
Tom wiped the froth around his mouth, staring at the potion vial Professor
Dumbledore had given him. The sour-tasting liquid stung as it splashed into his
stomach.
I was perfectly fine while experimenting with the spell! Tom thought. No, he
had pushed himself to the limit; there was only so much his mind could handle
after being scarred.
Now you have to be careful! he chided himself while rubbing across his
forehead. He pocketed the potion vial just as Hogwarts came into view. His
victory in the courtroom seemed nonexistent at that moment. Now he just wanted
to take a nap; perhaps he could coax Harry to join him under the covers.
He needed Harry.
The world was a dark blur to Tom as he entered Hogwarts. He couldn't remember
what anyone said to him, couldn't remember leaving the car. He followed
Professor Dumbledore to his office, not meeting the eyes of anyone who glanced
at him.
"Free as a bird," Tom heard Professor Dumbledore tell someone. "Cleared of all
charges."
"Thank you, Professor," replied a voice that made Tom look up instantly. Tom
and Harry's eyes met.
"Er, hello," Harry said hesitantly when Tom didn't speak. "Um...congrats on the
hearing."
"Not here," Tom said in their tongue, his voice too quiet for Harry's comfort.
Taking his hand, Harry led Tom back to their rooms on the third floor. He kept
his eyes on Tom, considering whether to ask why he was so sullen.
"Everything went okay in the hearing, I hope," Harry started.
"My performance was spectacular," Tom said emotionlessly. He walked over to the
small kitchen table, leaning against it with his arms supporting him. "I fooled
everyone; I gave them evidence they could not refute."
"Well, that's good," Harry said, standing across from him.
"I destroyed a part of my brain in the process," Tom added, bitterness seeping
into his soft voice. "I thought I was well. I put so much strain on my mind
that..." He pulled out a few tiny vials from his pocket, setting them on the
table. Harry's eyes widened, understanding. "Dumbledore had these with him."
"He sensed what was going to happen," Harry deducted. "Good for him."
"Am I going to live with this for the rest of my life?" Tom's tone stopped
Harry from responding. "I wouldn't have had to go through this if it wasn't for
the hearing that you oh-so-graciously requested for me!" Harry stepped back,
anticipating that Tom would overturn the table. But Tom continued to stare
lethally at him.
"It was either that or Azkaban," Harry reminded him as kindly as he could.
Tom snorted. "They wouldn't have put me in Azkaban anyway once they knew about
the scars on my brain."
"But you wouldn't have been cleared of all charges," Harry refuted, edging
closer to his friend. "They would have found other ways to imprison you."
Tom didn't stop Harry from coming closer, allowing Harry to wrap his arms
around him. He held Tom tightly.
"You're exhausted," Harry said. "Come." He led Tom into his bedroom, hoping the
portraits or any passing by ghosts wouldn't make a ruckus. Tom broke away and
flopped on Harry's bed, his back turned towards Harry. Harry settled next to
him, one arm over Tom's body; he was slightly shaking, perhaps from the
convulsions, Harry thought.
"I don't want to stay here for the summer," Tom suddenly spoke. "This isn't my
home; there is nothing welcoming in this damn school."
"I owe you," Harry said gently, petting Tom's hair but stopping when Tom's
shoulders tensed. "I'll find someplace."
"Grindelwald's manor!"
"If Professor Dumbledore agrees," Harry said. "I don't think he would want us
without supervision even if the manor had extreme security. He kept us here
because of Voldemort." Harry rested his head on Tom's shoulder. "We can't go
the Weasleys; they'll have your head." Tom gave a strange laugh at this. "Not
the Grangers, obviously. Oh, of course! Sirius! My godfather!"
"Godfather?" Tom spun around. "Since when do you have a godfather?"
"Since today," Harry said, perking up. "He introduced himself to me, and we had
a nice chat together."
"How are you sure he's your godfather?"
"I recognize him from one of the photos of my parents' wedding. He said he
lives in the Order headquarters - hey, I think Professor Dumbledore wouldn't
mind us staying there!"
"No," Tom said flatly.
Harry's grin flattened. "Then where else?" he mumbled after Tom turned his back
on him again. Then it hit him. "I know where! You'll like it, I think."
Smiling, Harry said no more.
                                      ***
Tom was in a foul mood for weeks following the hearing. Hogwarts' walls were
closing in on him, suffocating him. He spent as much time as he could outside
under the sanctuary of the trees, watching the students pass by. Harry never
left his side; his friends often joined him.
Hermione had changed. Her mania over studying had become an extremely unhealthy
obsession; several times Tom had to slap sense back into the young witch. She
was annoying him again; thankfully, Luna's patience with Hermione kept
everything under control. Ever since her parents' murders, Luna had become
something of a sister to Hermione.
Ron too had changed, in subtle ways. Tom sensed the boy's eyes on him on
several occasions, and he suspected Ron was following him around the castle.
Trying to avenge your precious little sister? Tom thought, laughing to himself.
I want to see you try that.
It happened on a Sunday while Tom was discussing with Luna one of the articles
in a recent Quibbler magazine. Weasley was following them, keeping a safe
distance. Tom cracked into a smile, wondering if the brat would attempt a curse
in front of Luna, who would surely chastise Ron for his behavior.
"Father thinks the bastard was brainwashing them," came Malfoy's drawling
voice. Tom stopped in his tracks, listening intently. He turned his head just
enough to locate the annoying brat talking to the two large goons that always
accompanied him; they were huddled together in an adjacent hallway. Weasley
didn't seem to have noticed them. Luna was engrossed in The Quibbler, unaware
of Malfoy's presence.
                                      ***
Ron had lied to Harry. He had promised only one curse, but as the days went by,
Ron found himself planning dozens of curses to throw at Tom. He had it all
planned; he just needed the perfect opportunity.
When he saw Riddle walking alone with Luna, Harry no where in sight, Ron
followed them.
Of course, the only problem left was Luna.
I'll deal with her later, Ron thought. This is for Ginny!
Riddle paused and glanced to his side. Luna busied herself with her father's
magazine, but Riddle's attention was focused elsewhere. Now was Ron's chance.
He raised his wand, softly muttering the first syllable of the first hex.
And then Ron heard Malfoy's voice.
                                      ***
"Pity," Malfoy continued in his annoying tone. "I was hoping the Potter fag
would be visiting his boyfriend in Azkaban." He laughed. "Do you think the
Dementors carry any diseases? I'm surprised Potter doesn't have several
already. I wouldn't be surprised if he gives service to the school in the boy's
lavatories."
Tom's jaw dropped, anger igniting inside him.
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled dumbly.
"Think we should send Potter a little present?" Malfoy sneered. "We'll send him
a bunch of sticks with a note saying, 'faggots are for burning.'" The two goons
laughed again. "Maybe I can curse it so Potter can get a few nasty diseases.
Maybe he'll never -"
He never finished his sentence.
                                      ***
Ron gasped. He had heard what Malfoy had said, and he was just about to storm
in and curse Malfoy, but Riddle was quicker. The look on Riddle's face alarmed
Ron; he had snapped, yanking the wand out of its place behind Luna's ear. Ron
watched, terrified, as Tom sent dozens of silent curses at Malfoy and his
friends. Horrible screams filled the passageway.
Maybe cursing him wouldn't be a smart thing after all, Ron thought. Luna was
staring at Tom, looking more surprised than usual.
"Mr. Riddle! You can't do that!" she chided him, reaching back for her wand.
"What you did was wrong!"
"Shut up!" Riddle screamed. He grabbed Luna by the collars and flung her
against the wall. "Don't tell a single soul what had just happened here! He
deserved it!"
"Go easy on her!" Ron protested, rushing towards them. He freed Luna from his
grasp and held her protectively. His wand was still in his hand, just in case
Riddle attempted to curse them next. "Take it easy. Luna's just...doesn't want
you getting in trouble again."
"There is no fear for me," Riddle snapped. He examined Luna's wand. "What was
it, Eileen?" he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes. "Yes, that's the
spell." He ran his fingers around the wand, muttering foreign words under his
breath. Indigo sparks shot out, disintegrating before it reached the ground.
"You erased the wand's memory," Luna said dreamily as Riddle handed back her
wand.
"So you won't be in trouble," Riddle explained.
"There's a spell for that?" Ron asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Not well known, but an old friend of mine invented it," Riddle explained
quickly. "Their memories are erased as well. If anyone asks you, you know
nothing of what's happened here."
"But -" Luna started.
"Just lie for once in your life!" Riddle snapped.
Ron shifted around, getting a better look at the damage in the hallway.
"What did you do to Malfoy and the others?" he asked, feeling sick.
"Malformed is a more appropriate name for him now," Riddle said.
Ron laughed before he could stop himself. Their eyes met.
"Er, thanks for protecting Harry," Ron said after an awkward moment of silence.
"Shouldn't we take him to the infirmary?"
"And put ourselves under suspicion? Someone will find them eventually. Go.
Pretend you never spoke with me today."
"Fine." Ron stopped hugging Luna, blushing at how tightly he had been holding
her. "Let's get out of here." Luna gave another look at Tom before walking away
with Ron.
"Think about what you did," she told him.
"For you, I will," Riddle said sardonically, rolling his eyes. Ron stifled a
laugh. It wasn't long before Ron heard Riddle call out his name. He turned
around.
"Aren't you going to hex me, Weasley?" Riddle asked tauntingly. He was standing
alone, unarmed. It was too tempting, even if Luna was going to scold him.
But then Ron thought of the malformed Malfoy that lay not too far away. How
powerful was Riddle without his wand?
"Nah, it would be unfair," Ron said casually, "especially not when you're
without a wand."
Riddle's lips curled into a nasty sneer. "Very well then," he said pleasantly
before leaving.
Ron's eyes narrowed, but Luna took his wrist and tugged in the other direction.
"Don't" Luna warned. "It's not worth it. He's an immortal, and you aren't." Ron
looked around them. Soon students and teachers would come and find Malfoy, and
he didn't want to get dragged into the mess Riddle had created. Deciding not to
argue with Luna Lovegood, Ron followed her out the corridor.
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