This chapter is now betaed, thanks to the amazing work of Anaria Nothren. :)
Chapter 4
Harry awoke the following morning feeling much better than he had the day before. Despite the fact that he was sure he hadn't slept much, he felt like he had more energy than he'd ever had before in his life. How could he ever have hated Lord Voldemort? The man was brilliant, powerful, witty, and beautiful. Why would anyone hate him? He supposed Lord Voldemort—Tom—was right. People hated him because they were jealous of him. He had the power and the nerve to go after what he wanted, and people who lacked those things were envious.
He went about his day as usual, attending classes, eating meals, and continuing his normal routine--though he couldn't quite keep a silly smile off his face. He remembered, though, to look angry whenever someone mentioned "You-Know-Who." The week continued as all weeks at Hogwarts did. Actually, it was probably less interesting than Harry's weeks at Hogwarts usually were, as he was no longer worried about being killed by Lord Voldemort. But his thoughts were still quite busy, and still very much centred on the Dark Lord.
Could Lord Volde—Tom really like him? Harry supposed that he could, maybe. He certainly wouldn't let just anyone call him by the name he was given at birth. Maybe he just thought it didn't matter, since Harry already knew his birth name. But even Dark Lords get tired of always fighting, right?
It could just be a strategic move. Harry was, according to the prophecy, the only one who could kill the Dark Lord. So if Tom made nice with Harry, Harry would no longer want to kill Tom. If Harry didn't want to kill Tom, Tom wouldn't die. So Tom might just be acting nice so that Harry would never kill him.
The more Harry thought about it, the more that explanation made sense. And it explained why Tom did not even attempt to attack him. There was only one problem.
Harry didn't want Tom to see him as an enemy to be placated. He didn't want Tom to treat him kindly out of fear. He wanted Tom to see him as a—well, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted his relationship with Tom to be, but he knew he wanted more than what he had. He wanted Tom to actually like him, to care about him.
So how would one go about impressing the Dark Lord, anyway? It wasn't something he'd ever needed to consider before. Maybe he could ask Draco? No, of course not, that was a stupid idea. Draco couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it, and Tom had said to tell no one. Not to mention the fact that Draco Malfoy hated him and would sooner kiss a blast-ended skrewt than aid Harry in any way. Harry thought about asking Hermione, the person he generally fell back on when he needed advice, then laughed, picturing her reaction. No, he couldn't ask anyone for advice. He would have to figure this out on his own.
So how could he get Tom to like him? Well, Tom was smart, right? He'd been Head Boy at Hogwarts, and had gotten more OWLs than Hermione. Harry couldn't go back and change his own OWL scores, but he could pay more attention to his studies. Yes, that was a good idea. Tom was a master of so many fields of magic; he could never like someone who hadn't even mastered the Hogwarts curriculum. Harry vowed to start putting far more effort into his studies. He had a Potions class in an hour, so he decided to do something he had never done before. He got out his notes from the previous lesson to read over. Then he realized exactly how poorly he'd done in his note-taking. The notes were messy and disorganized, not something he could study from. He pictured Hermione's neatly written notes, with colour-coordinated highlighter. Maybe he wouldn't go that far, but he would put a lot more effort into it. Since his notes wouldn't be of any help, he decided to read the chapter in the textbook about the potion they would be studying in class. He read the chapter carefully, making detailed notes, and looking up words he didn't understand. Neither Professor Snape nor Professor Slughorn had ever made them answer the study questions at the end of the chapter, but Hermione often did, just so she could be certain she knew and understood everything. Harry decided to take up that practice, too.
Potions class went phenomenally well. Harry found himself answering questions along with Hermione. The lesson was one in theory, not practice, so Professor Slughorn spent most of the class lecturing. Harry found that having prepared for class by reading the text (as all of their teachers told them to do, but no one except Hermione and some Ravenclaws actually did) made it far easier to understand the lecture, and therefore far easier to take organized notes. He decided to keep up this practice, not only in Potions, but for all of his classes.
After two weeks of this, his teachers had all noticed the change in Harry Potter's academic habits. His marks had improved dramatically, and he found that homework didn't take as long as it used to, since he actually understood everything discussed in class, and his notes were well organized. Understanding the theory of the spells made it far easier to actually perform them in class, in fact he was usually able to do it on the first or second try. This meant that he wasn't given any additional homework in order to help him understand the spell. The Quidditch team, of which Harry was Captain this year, was less than pleased with Harry's newfound academic fervour, but Harry didn't care. Being good at Quidditch wouldn't impress Tom.
Two weeks after his first meeting with Tom, Professor Dumbledore sent Harry a note asking him to come to the Headmaster's Office on Wednesday, the following day, at six o'clock in the evening. Harry assumed it must be for the private lessons Professor Dumbledore had mentioned on their way to enlist Professor Slughorn that summer evening.
That evening, Harry fell asleep after a full day of classes, only to once again feel his awareness being pulled away. He found himself back in Tom's study. Tom was in exactly the same place Harry had left him, lounging lazily and yet still somehow elegantly in the black suede armchair.
"Good evening, Harry," Tom greeted.
"Good evening—erm—Tom?" Harry said awkwardly.
"I was not lying when I said you had permission to use my birth name. It is a privilege I only grant you, Harry. Now, sit down please."
Harry moved again to the chair opposite Tom's, managing to avoid the table this time. He knew he would never come close to Tom's grace and poise, but that didn't mean he had to be a total klutz.
"Have you been well since our last meeting?" Tom asked.
"Um—fine. I missed you, though."
"I've missed you too. You didn't haven't told anyone about our meeting, have you?"
"Of course not!" Harry said vehemently. "You told me not to! Why would I do anything you directly told me not to do?"
"Why indeed," Tom said dryly. "Some of my followers might benefit from such wisdom."
"Erm—how about you? Are all your…er…plans going well?"
"Tomorrow's Daily Prophet should tell you that," Tom answered with a pleased smile. "Remember to look angry when you see it."
"I never forget. I've been very careful. Whenever someone mentions your name, I stop whatever I'm doing and glare at them. Well, not your name, since no one says your name, but 'you-know-who' or whatever."
"Very good, Harry. The Sorting Hat was right about you, my little serpent."
Ordinarily being called a snake would have caused Harry to hex whomever said it with a hex that would be extremely painful and difficult to remove. But coming from Tom, it was a compliment, and a very flattering one at that, and Harry's cheeks turned red from pleased embarrassment rather than anger.
Tom noted Harry's blush, and decided to use that nickname frequently.
Harry seemed to have a thought, as his head shot up quickly. "How did you know what the Sorting Hat said to me? I never told anyone but Professor Dumbledore about that."
"Never intentionally, but Severus has been inside your head, and he reported all the interesting things he found to me. Knowing that you nearly ended up in Slytherin caused Severus no small amount of indignation."
"Imagine how he would have felt if I actually had agreed with the Hat."
"Never mind Severus, imagine the expression on Dumbledore's face had you become a Slytherin."
Harry and Tom both smiled at this thought.
"Now, Harry, as much as I enjoy spending time with you, I'm afraid I didn't call you here just for the pleasure of your company. I need a favour from you."
"Anything!" Harry responded immediately.
"I want you to tell me everything you know about Hogwarts." Tom didn't really need Harry to do any such thing, of course. Tom had explored Hogwarts quite thoroughly in his time, and knew all of the castle's secrets. This was meant as more of a test, to see if Harry would attempt to hold any information back. And perhaps the boy knew of a secret passage or two that he didn't. That could also be useful.
It turned out that Harry knew quite a lot about Hogwarts. Tom grudgingly admitted to himself that Harry might know Hogwarts as well as he did. Over the next four hours, Harry had gone in order from the bottom of the castle to the top, describing each room of the castle, what it was used for, and what, if any, secret passages could be accessed from it. Apparently, Harry had at some point read "Hogwarts, A History," because Harry's descriptions included information such as who had charmed the ceiling in the Great Hall, the histories of many of the castle's ghosts, and the lives of the people who were immortalized in paintings and statues. At least he hadn't found out the history of the Grey Lady. Tom also found out that the broom cupboard on the fifth floor was no longer used for illicit snogging, as it had become too well known, and that there were now five locations used for that purpose. Each House had its own special place, and there was one used almost exclusively for inter-House couples. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs both had empty broom cupboards. Ravenclaws had an empty classroom. Slytherins had an empty room in the dungeons, the original purpose of which no one really knew. Tom wasn't sure he wanted to know how Harry had found out where Slytherins went to snog.
"And inter-House couples use the Room of Requirement," Harry said. "And that's all I know about the castle itself. On the grounds of the castle, there's the Whomping Willow, a tree that attacks anyone who comes too near. It's actually very easy to get past, though, you simply have to press a knot on the trunk, and then the tree freezes and you can get to the secret—"
Tom hadn't been listening to what Harry was saying. After he heard the words "Room of Requirement," he'd stopped paying attention. His thoughts were centred on whether or not it was the same room he'd found during his time at Hogwarts, where he'd hidden Rowena's diadem.
"Harry," Tom interrupted. "What did you just say?"
"The Whomping Willow? I thought you knew about that, wouldn't Pettigrew have told you? It was planted when Remus Lupin first came to—"
"No, no, no, of course I know all about the Whomping Willow! The Room of Requirement, you didn't mention it before. Tell me about it."
"I didn't? I could have sworn I talked about it. Well, it's on the fifth floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, you know, the one of him trying to teach trolls ballet. To get into it, you have to walk past the door three times, concentrating on what you need. Then the door will appear, and when you go inside, the Room will have whatever you asked for. We used it in my fifth year for DA practises."
"You told me everything about the castle, even about the snogging rooms, but you dared to omit the most interesting and powerful room in all of Hogwarts?!" Tom yelled.
"I'm sorry! I didn't leave it out on purpose, I told you, I thought I'd already talked about it. It's just that I've just been talking so long, and I tried to keep everything organized by picturing the castle in my head, and all the rooms and doors, and I guess I didn't think of the door to the Room because it isn't always there!"
Tom immediately calmed down. Frightening Harry would not help to advance his plans. "It's all right, Harry. I believe you. I do not think you intentionally left it out of your description."
"It sounds like you know about the Room, too."
"Yes, I found it in my fifth year, when I was looking for somewhere to be alone." Tom paused for a moment, uncertain of whether he should tell Harry more. Then he realized that if Harry knew of the Room, Dumbledore knew of the Room, and that meant his Horcrux was no longer safe there.
"Harry, I must ask you for another favour, and this one is vitally important."
"I told you, Tom, anything."
"You were left a house elf by your godfather, Sirius Black, is that correct?"
"Yes, but he doesn't like me very much."
"Whether or not the elf likes you is immaterial. Does he accept you as his Master?"
"He's not happy about it, but yes."
"Where is the elf now?"
"I told him to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts. Why, do you need a house elf?"
"No, Harry, I do not need a house elf. I have several of my own. But I need you to retrieve something for me, and your house elf will be able to bring it from you to me."
"What is it?"
"Another one of my Horcruxes. The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw."
"The lost diadem? How did you find it?" Harry asked, grateful that he had read about the object last week. He would have hated to have to ask what it was like a total ignoramus.
"Do you know the ghost of Ravenclaw House?"
"The Grey Lady? I've seen her, but we've never spoken. I don't think Hermione's mentioned anything about her past," Harry answered, hating that he didn't know.
"I became well acquainted with her during my time at Hogwarts. In life, she was Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena's daughter, and she stole the diadem. I was able to convince her to tell me where she had hidden it."
"So you found it—in Albania, maybe, since Dumbledore said you went there when you were younger, and made it into a Horcrux. Then you hid it at Hogwarts, in the Room, I suppose, and you need me to get it for you?"
Voldemort was impressed, despite himself. Had the boy always been this sharp? "Exactly correct. I believe you will be able to locate it by the simple expedient of telling the Room that you need to find it."
"Will Kreacher—my house elf, I mean—be able to find you?"
"Yes. House elves often run such errands for their masters."
"Good. I'll get it and send it to you tomorrow. After all, you said Dumbledore knows about your Horcruxes, and if he knows about them he must be trying to destroy them. Dumbledore was the one who told me about the Room in the first place, well, told me in his typical mysterious way, so he must know about it too, and that means he could possibly find the diadem."
"Once again, exactly right. Thank you, Harry."
Harry blushed again and murmured something self-deprecating. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh! I've just remembered something. Dumbledore said he wants to give me private lessons this year. He hasn't told me exactly what he wants to teach me, but I guess it's probably things to help me…well…you know."
"Vanquish me?" Tom said, with an aristocratic eyebrow raised mockingly.
"Yeah, that. Anyway, my first lesson with him is tomorrow evening."
"It will not hurt you to learn what he has to teach you. Just remember not to look into his eyes."
"Of course. Even if we hadn't met up, I wouldn't want him seeing my thoughts." Harry yawned widely, then looked down sheepishly.
"I see that it is time for you to return to true sleep. Study hard tomorrow, my little serpent. Remember, knowledge is power."
After Harry's awareness had left the room, Tom added quietly in Parseltongue, "§And power corrupts.§"
