A/N:

Well, thanks and gratitude goes out to everyone who reviewed for the last chapter and for all who have this story on Story Alert; it means a lot to me. Thank you also to all of you who have been reading this story from the start! :)

I apologize for the ongoing delayed updates; I've been focusing on other things recently and this story was put to the side, I am sorry to say. But here is the next chapter for all to read...

Sorry about incorrect spelling and grammar!

Disclaimer: If I said I owned Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling would probably sue against me. So, I cannot say that I do own Harry Potter or any relating characters; J. K. Rowling owns them.

The Power Of Love
Written by mpkio2

Chapter 4
Who Are You?

Through the moon-lit corridors of Hogwarts Castle, Harry was taken swiftly and quickly to the Hospital Wing, accompanied by Madam Pomfery, who nagged all the way, (Unfortunately for Harry), lecturing him on his "foolish behaviour" and telling how he should have come straight to her when he entered the castle. Harry tried his best to ignore her, but he found ignoring her only made his brain concentrate on the pain that was spreading throughout his ribcage. Yes, the night's event had certainly had a toll on his body and, in a way, he was happy to go to the Hospital Wing, (Despite how much he hated it), for it meant he would have a bed to, finally, sleep upon.

So Harry endured Madam Pomfery's nagging and constant lectures all the way to the Hospital Wing (Which seemed much further away than Harry originally thought; It probably wasn't that far away but Harry's tired mind only made it seem so far away...), putting up, even, with the pain.

For it meant he would see the boy again, to be ensured that he was safe and OK. Yes, it was all worth it; Madam Pomfory's constant nagging, the pain that stained in his ribs, his tiredness which caused his feet to drag along the castle corridors. In the end, saving the boy was all worth it, no matter what state Harry was presently in...

When Harry entered the large room filled with many beds (Some occupied by patients), all of which were lined along the walls, a single candle lit in the corner of the room by Madam Pomfery's office, and a single candle lit by one bed, Harry did not expect to see the boy he had saved laying on his front on top of the bed, his body moving up and down from the rhythm of his breathing, still dressed in the other sized black robe, saying something which came out muffled due to the pillow which was covering his head with two small hands; Harry assumed the boy was sleeping, Madam Pomfery all ready seen to his injuries, but that was not the case.

It looked like Madam Pomfery hadn't even attempted to remove his clothes to inspect his body for any major or minor injuries; although, now that Harry thought about it, Madam Pomfery had stated that the boy would "not calm down" when she had entered McGonagall's office.

I guess that's why I'm here, Harry thought to himself as he walked in with Madam Pomfery by his side, muttering something to herself that Harry did not catch, though assumed it was not for him to hear. She placed Harry on a bed next to the sobbing boy, a lit candle glowing between them. She looked down at Harry expectedly, as if waiting for him to do something, her hands on her hips and looking ever so briskly.

Harry returned her expected look with one of his own.

"Well?" she said in a brisk voice, as if asking what he was going to do now.

"Well what?" Harry asked when she did not elaborate.

"Aren't you going to calm the boy down?" Madam Pomfery asked in a slight irritated voice, her eyes gesturing down at the sobbing boy to her right. "That's why I originally fetched for you, Potter."

And she was indeed correct, Harry realized. How he forgotten that, he didn't know (Probably his lack of sleep...), but he didn't dwell on the countless reasons for it.

"Oh, right, yes," Harry said, shaking his head slightly, feeling a wave of sleep rush over him; he had to stay awake. Getting up ever so slowly as if to not tumble down again, harry walked a little closer to the bed opposite his on his left, and crouched down so that his eyelevel was equal to that of the boy's who was still laying on his bed, sobbing into the pillow.

Harry placed a tentative hand on the boy's shoulder, but was surprised when his hand was pushed aside by the boy's aggressive action.

"Go away," Harry was, somehow, able to hear a feeble and angry, small voice come from underneath the pillow. "I want man with green eyes," the voice continued to say in a rather demanding voice. "I don't want you!"

"Well if you don't want "me", then I could always leave..." Harry said in a rather amused voice by the boy's side, chuckling slightly, despite the sleep that was ready to shoot him down in an instant.

The boy's body language changed in an instant on his Harry's voice. His whole body froze, his breathing dropped a fraction in volume and his sobbing was distinguished down to small sniffles. On recognition of Harry's voice, he tentatively raised his head from under the pillow and turned his head to the left.

The boy's eyes opened slowly and Harry was soon looking back at two green eyes filled with tears, just like Harry's own emeralds. A small smile spread across the boy's face at the sight of the man that saved him.

"It you," he said in a rather happy voice. "The man who saved me..."

Harry smiled in return of the gesture. "Yes I did," Harry stated simply. "And I would do it again if I had to,"

The boy didn't say anything to this; he looked as if it was the first time anyone had said something about that to him and thought it was a lie, for an expression of mistrust placed upon his small face, accompanied by a small frown.

"Why you do that?" The boy asked in a distrusting voice, the frown plastered on his face. "You don't know me..."

Harry looked taken aback by this; why would he not trust him? Why did he doubt Harry's actions? True they hardly knew each other to gain or build any trust upon, but the fact that Harry had already saved him, must have been some indication to the boy that Harry wouldn't stop to think and not do it again? Surely he knew that...

By the look on his face, the boy did not...

"Because you were in danger and I wanted to protect you," Harry answered in a simple voice, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder as a sign for comfort and a reinforcement to what Harry was saying; he would protect him. But it seemed as if the boy was not picking up on the vibe at all, for he pulled his body away from Harry's all together.

What is going on?, Harry asked himself. First he wants me to calm him down, and now he pushes me away, as if he didn't want me in the first place? Why is he pushing my comfort away? What am I doing wrong? Why doesn't he trust me enough to give him a simple pat on the shoulder?

All of Harry's questions were not, unfortunately, answered; for no-one was able hear the questions in Harry's head. There was no time to ask anyone either, for Madam Pomfery cleared her throat very loudly in order to get Harry's attention.

"As much as I would like to stand here all night," she said, both hands still on her hips, looking down at Harry with a glint of annoyance in her eyes. "I have a job to do which is to tend to any injuries that have been afflicted upon you. You have calmed the boy down, Potter, and now I can see to his injuries. If you wouldn't mind as to sit on your bed and wait until I have seen to the boy's, it would help me immensly,"

Harry nodded his head, seeing her point as he too would like nothing better to do than to fall asleep in one of the Hospital Wing's uncomfortable beds, sleep cloudy his head.

"Of course, Madam Pomfery," Harry replied, feeling his eyes drop. "Can I just...finish off talking to the boy first before you see to him?"

Madam Pomfery nodded her head. "You have a five minutes and that is all,"

"Thank you," Harry replied with a small smile. He returned his glance to the boy, who looked back with questioning green eyes. Harry looked further within and a second later he felt his scar tingling with pain, hearing an ugly laugh in the back of his mind. Voldermort...

A hand went to his scar; the tingling sensation did not stop.

"Are you 'K, mister?" The boy looked at Harry with concern.

"I'm...fine," Harry lied, for he was not "fine" at all. His scar hadn't tingled in awhile, but that wasn't the source for Harry's apprehension. The fact that the tingling sensation felt...different...was what scared Harry. Plus, he didn't want the boy to worry for Harry's well-being; it should be the other way round. "But, the real question is are you OK?"

The boy looked as though he was thinking about what to say, and when he settled on a appropriate answer, he nodded his head. "I'm 'K,"

"Will you be fine sleeping here in the Hospital Wing?" Harry asked. The boy's eyes widened slightly.

"Where you sleeping?" he asked, fear and anxiety entering his voice.

"Right here," Harry pattered on the bed beside the boy's. "If you need anything during the night, just let me know, OK?" And Harry was tired and he hoped for Merlin he wasn't awoken during the night for he wanted to sleep the night away, but if the boy needed anything, harry would do it. He could have told the boy to call for Madam Pomfery, but seeing how Madam Pomfery had called for Harry to calm the boy down, it showed that he didn't trust Madam Pomfery at all, so telling him to call for Madam Pomfery would be pointless.

The boy nodded his head to show he understood.

"Madam Pomfery..." Harry gestured with his head in the direction where she stood, patiently. "...needs to take a look at your body to see if you have any injuries. Can you let her do that?"

The boy looked up at Madam Pomfery with a wary expression on his face and then back at Harry with an answer he (Harry) already knew. The boy shock his head. No.

"Why not?" Harry asked, kindly.

"I don't wan' people lookin' at me," the toddler stated simply in a voice that sounded beyond the years of his age, putting his head underneath the pillow, once more. "I don't like people look at me..."

In some small way, Harry could understand where the boy was coming from; he too had the misfortune in his life of people, almost daily, staring at him, at his scar, talking behind his back, saying stuff about him and almost always something negative. Always "There goes Potty Potter," or sometimes "He thinks his so strong. He really thinks he can defeat the dark lord?", followed by a round of sniggering from the Slytherins and, occasionally, from Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs too.

"OK," Harry said in an understanding voice. "What if you tell us where you are hurting? How does that sound?"

At this being said, Madam Pomfery looked hesitant and wary.

"Mr. Potter," she started in a brisk voice loud voice that sounded as if she was trying to control the situation at hand, and perhaps she was, for Harry had, totally, taken over and he was now seeing to a patient that was rightly hers. Harry, however, didn't care; At least the boy would co-operate in some way. That's all that matters...

"I don't think that-" But Harry was not listening to a word. He felt his Slytherin side come out, wanting to take control at the situation at hand and to stop those who got in his way. He put up a hand to Madam Pomfery to hush her quiet. She gasped in shock, but she did stay quiet, in the end.

"Come on now," Harry encouraged in the gentlest voice he could muster, striving all the way to keep his eyes open. "Just tell me..."

The boy looked hesitant at first, but when he looked at Harry and the big smile he had on his face, his body, slightly, relaxed and spoke in a quiet voice:

"It's...Er...my left leg,"

Harry already knew this, but he wanted confirmation from the boy himself of Harry's pre-diagnosis. It seemed Harry was indeed correct, but he still wondered...

"Are you sure you're not hurt anywhere else?" Harry asked. "Your arms? Your front? Your head? Anywhere else?"

The boy looked like he was concentrating, his facial features on scrunched up in intensity. After awhile, his facial muscles relaxed and answered Harry's question with a firm shake of the head.

"OK," Harry nodded his head, though he was not perfectly satisfied with the answer he was supplied. "If that is all, Madam Pomfery is going to heal your wound for you,"

After seeing the boy's hesitant glance at Madam Pomfery, Harry spoke again in a gentle, comforting voice:

"She's just going to heal it, that's all," He placed a soft hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy flinched at the touch (Which Harry thought was weird,) but allowed Harry to keep his hand there. Harry felt the boy trembling underneath his hand; he was afraid. "And...I'm not going to hurt you,"

The boy looked, who had his head ducked down into the pillow, now looked up and found Harry's face. By the expression on his face, it looked as if the boy was analysing Harry's face, as if detecting any lies of mistrust. After about a minute, the boy nodded his head, slowly.

"Okay..." he mumbled more to himself and into the pillow. He then looked back at Harry and asked: "She fix me...right, mister?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah," he said, still awake, despite his need for a bed. "She will fix you." Harry quickly questioned why the boy was calling him "Mister?" But then, he too, realized why he was calling the boy..."boy?" And it quickly struck him the most obvious detail was missing between themselves; the most important detail that all relationships was based on was not mentioned, hadn't crossed their minds (Well, it hadn't crossed Harry's...) at all; their names.

"And, you don't have to call me "Mister", you know?" Harry continued. "Just call me 'Harry', 'Harry Potter'."

Was that a smile Harry saw cross the boy's face? If it was, it was the first time Harry had seen him smile.

"OK...Har-Har-" The boy seemed to have trouble with Harry's name; not to disrespect the boy, Harry smiled on the inside. "Har-wy," the boy concluded, and then smiled in triumphant of his success at pronouncing Harry's name.

Harry chuckled, lightly. "Well done. You pronounced my name."

The boy looked away, his cheeks growing red; was he blushing? Harry smiled at the innocent notion.

"What's your name?" Harry asked. "I can't call you 'boy' all the time,"

The boy smiled, lightly. "I Tom," he said, pointing a finger to his chest to show who he was.

Harry nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Tom,"

"Nice meet you...Har-wy," Tom nodded as well, copying Harry's action, speaking in his broken toddler voice.

"Erhum!" A loud noise of a person clearing their voice filled the Hospital Wing. Harry and Tom looked to their rights and saw an impatient looking Madam Pomfery waiting, with her hands on her hips. She reminded harry of his Aunt Petunia. "I don't mean to break up your little welcoming, but I have a job to do,"

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Madam Pomfery," Harry nodded, apologetically. "I'll just finish off here..." He gestured to Tom on his bed.

"You certainly will!" Madam Pomfery replied in a brisk, annoyed voice.

Harry turned his attention back to the boy. "OK, Madam Pomfery is going to tend to your wounds. After, we shall sleep..."

"But..." Tom spoke up. "I have...er...qustduns,"

"I'm sure you do," Harry replied. "And, I know you must be confused and terrified, finding yourself in a place like this," Tom looked down, avoiding eye contact with Harry; it appeared harry was speaking Tom's emotions out loud. Now that Harry thought about it, Tom's hesitant to trust Harry made sense; after all, Tom was just a little boy in a big place with people he did not know all around him, with creatures and things he should not know about. His resistance to trusting Harry was understandable.

"But at least you know who I am," Harry smiled. "I'm the one who saved you, remember? That must mean something, right?"

It wasn't a rhetorical question; Harry wanted an answer.

"I guess," Tom replied.

"Exactly," Harry said, still at the same eye level. "So if you can sleep this one night, knowing that at least one person you can trust is with you, you are safe," And as a precaution, Harry put his hand back on Tom's shoulder. "OK?"

"'K," Tom replied in a gentle voice.

"Good," Harry said, as he slowly stood up, readying to sit on the bed opposite Tom's, the conversation, finally, coming to an end, restful sleep calling for Harry. "Then I shall see you in the morning, Tom,"

"And you will be...?" Came Tom's voice, a little startled and afraid with the answer he would receive.

"Right next to you for the whole night,"

This relaxed the boy, immensely. "K," he answered in a gentle voice, his eyes on Harry all the time, as if afraid if he shall look away, Harry would disappear.

"Madam Pomfery will tend to your wounds now," Harry said as he sat on the bed opposite Tom's. Tom looked weary at her but Harry gave him an encouraging smile which the boy picked up.

In the end, Tom nodded his head.

"Well, it's about time!" Madam Pomfery burst out, loudly. "Why I let you talked Potter, I don't know. All you've done is delayed me from treating this boy. For the love of Merlin! Potter, don't sit there on that bed! Help me treat this boy!"

Harry had no idea what Madam Pomfery was talking about; he didn't know how to treat people, medically. What help would he be? But then he discovered that he was able to help Madam Pomfery by coaxing Tom to co-operate in what Madam Pomfery wanted done. In the end, Harry was able to persuade Tom to allow Madam Pomfery to look at, not only his left leg, but the rest of his body.

Madam Pomfery's diagnostics were nothing good to go by. Apparently, Tom had a minor fracture in his left leg, with the addition of a few scratches and bruises that covered his body – especially around his stomach and torso. This obviously worried the matron and surfaced her worries to Harry, as if asking him "How did this happen? Who did this to him?" Harry explained the nights events to madam Pomfery, from finding young Tom in the Forbidden Forest, to the heard of centaurs wanting to kill him. Harry was surprised he had enough energy to tell her all of which he did.

When Madam Pomfery was able to heal Tom's wounds with a few Healing spells (That including Episkey to heal Tom's left leg and Tergeo to clear up the few scratches over Tom's body,) , put the boy to sleep with a Sleeping Draught potion and made sure he was comfortable enough in bed, his sleeping head resting on a pillow, snoring lightly, she rounded onto Harry and ushered him away from Tom's bed and across the room so as not to wake him. She wanted to talk to Harry, quietly, so it must be important.

"Take your shirt off, Potter," she said in a brisk voice. "I need to heal your wounds,"

Harry was rather perplexed at this being said, but once he felt a sharp pain around his ribs, he understood, perfectly. However, he was still confused at how Madam Pomfery knew it was his ribs that were wounded; surely he hadn't mentioned it to her? He did as he was told and, once Harry's shirt was removed, Madam Pomfery went to work in fixing Harry's ribs.

Nothing was said between the two of them for awhile. The room was almost quiet if it hadn't been for Tom snoring across the room. Soon, however, a voice spoke quietly to Harry...

"Potter, it sounds like you've been through an ordeal, tonight," Harry was surprised to find the voice belonging to Madam Pomfery. It wasn't the fact she was speaking about the matter at hand, but rather, the tone of her voice was...gentle, a tone Harry had never heard her use before. "I must confess that I was angry at you for being so reckless when I discovered about the whole incident in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry lowered his head.

"However, I see now how much strength you must have had to save the child,"

Harry looked up at this being said.

"Excuse me?" he asked, thinking he heard wrong.

"Are you deaf, boy?" Madam Pomfery burst in her usual tone of voice. "I'm telling you that you were strong to save the child,"

Harry took some time to process what Madam Pomfery was telling him. Once it was processed, he spoke in a hushed, surprised voice.

"Are you telling me you believe me?"

"I never said that," Madam Pomfery replied, quickly. "But I am telling you that you are a brave wizard; Foolish, maybe, but brave, non-the-less. Whatever did happen down in the Forbidden Forest tonight, I hate to wonder. How you emerged in the castle with a wounded child, I, again, hate to think about it,"

"It really did happen..." Harry mumbled in a low voice. Once he mumbled this he felt a cool sensation was over his ribcage. Then, suddenly, a warm sensation and then, nothing at all; Harry knew once away that his ribs were healed.

"So you say, Potter," Madam Pomfery replied, as she crossed the Hospital Wing over to Tom's bed and returned to Harry's side with a potion in her hand. "Drink this,"

Harry did and at once he felt all the aches and pains he didn't know he had around his body, start to vanish.

"You're not fully healed yet," Madam Pomfery said as walked back to Tom's bed, moved a few things, walked to her office and returned to Harry with a pair of pyjamas in her hands. "Put these on," She left the room to give Harry some privacy.

Once Harry was dressed, he walked over and got in the bed opposite where Tom slept, snoring. Madam Pomfery returned with a candle in her right hand and walked beside Harry's bed. Harry could tell, by the light of the candle, that Madam Pomfery's face held an expression of worried.

"What's wrong, Madam Pomfery?" Harry asked, still fighting the sleep that was to come. "You look like something is troubling you..."

The matron sighed, deeply. "Well, Potter," she said in a just as worried voice. "It's just...those bruises and scratches that were covered over the child... I worry that..." But then she was quiet.

"You worry about what?" Harry asked.

Madam Pomfery shock her head. "It doesn't matter," She placed a glass of water on Harry's bed-side table next to Harry's glasses. "If you need anything, just call for me. Goodnight,"

Before Harry could say another thing, Madam Pomfery was gone, away and in her own office. Darkness crept over the room, the candles dying out. It was a sign for all patients to sleep.

And Harry wanted to sleep and, finally, as his eyes closed, Harry fell to sleep. But even in sleep, many questions racked in his brain: "Does Tom fully trust me? Does he trust anyone? How did he get here? Is he a muggle or magical? Where are his parents now? What worries Madam Pomfery so much? What's wrong?"

Even in sleep, Harry's answers were left unsolved. But answers, he would get. After all, tomorrow is another day filled with possibilities...

A/N:

Well, there's Chapter 4 done and dusted. Late and delayed, yes; but done, non-the-less.

Not exactly what I was expecting but I liked how it turned out, despite that.

This chapter's purpose was to show Tom's mistrust in people and to show Harry is filled with questions about the Tom and starting to question who he is. Also, Harry's scar hurting is another little insight into who Tom really is.

I know it's been a little slow so far, but hang in there; it will speed up soon.

TheDormantOne: I can't take credit for the idea of making Tom Riddle into a three year old toddler. I was inspired but numerous Harry Potter fanfics where Tom is a toddler. The credit goes to the other HP fan fiction writers.

lilyoftheval5: Well in the United Kingdom, the word "career" is used for an adult who is looking after a child. I think, however, I will change the word "career" to "guardian".

Well, please give me some good reviews to keep me motivated.

What do you think will happen next? And will Harry ever discover who Tom really is?

Please review!

~mpkio2~