Chapter 7

Three weeks later at breakfast, Harry received another note from Dumbledore, this one delivered by Romilda Vane. "Hey Harry," she said after giving him the note. "Did you ever eat those chocolate cauldrons I gave you?"

Harry was somewhat preoccupied with the note from Dumbledore, and didn't have the faintest idea what she was talking about, either. "Sorry, but um, what chocolate cauldrons?"

"Well, the ones I gave you back in September, of course!" she said with a pout.

"You gave me some chocolate cauldrons in September?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

The girl gave a frustrated grunt, muttered something like "This is a huge school, there must be one or two other boys who aren't quite so thick," and stormed off.

Harry mentally shrugged. Girls gave him things all the time, and he usually binned them at the first opportunity. It wasn't important.

Harry spent the rest of the day with only half of his attention on his classes. Luckily, his classes were Transfiguration and Potions, and both lessons were theory rather than practical. He had mastered the subject of both lessons weeks ago, so he managed to keep up to his new usual standard even without giving it his full attention. He was mainly focused on preparing his Occlumency for his meeting with Dumbledore. While he was by no means certain of his ability to keep Dumbledore out, and he would certainly continue trying to avoid the man's eyes, he thought he could at least make sure the Headmaster didn't see any of his conversations with Tom. He spent the day making sure those memories, along with his memory of retrieving the Horcrux and his conversation with Hermione, were buried deep within his mind.

He had a free period in the afternoon, and not for the first time, he seriously considered running down to the Chamber and getting the books Tom had suggested, but he still wasn't certain he wanted to do that. He really appreciated the gesture, as he knew how important this knowledge was to Tom, but he was also fully aware that what he learned from the books was very likely to be Dark Magic. He didn't know if he really wanted to explore that realm just yet, if ever. So he had not gone to the Chamber in the three weeks that had passed since his last meeting with Tom, and he decided to continue holding off on going to the Chamber for now.

The day passed quickly, and it was soon time for his meeting with Dumbledore. Harry sighed and put on his best "boy-who-lived" face, one of earnestness, a touch of anxiety, and above all total trust in the Headmaster. This time the password was "jelly slugs." Harry stepped past the gargoyle and onto the moving staircase.

"Good evening, Harry," he heard as he stepped into the office.

"Good evening, sir," he responded politely.

"Your professors tell me you are making unusually great progress this semester," Dumbledore said, his eyes still twinkling.

"Er—yes, sir."

"In fact, even Professor Snape has said that you are finally living up to the potential you have shown since you arrived at Hogwarts."

"Really, sir?" Harry asked. If that were true, it honestly did make him happy.

"Perhaps not in those exact words, but I am an expert at divining people's true feelings."

Harry didn't really want to think about what Professor Snape actually said that led Dumbledore to that conclusion, so he moved the conversation along. "I know I can't catch up with Lord Voldemort, but I didn't think it would hurt if I at least tried to do better in my classes. Magical knowledge might not be what will defeat him, but it couldn't hurt, right?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Right you are, my boy, and I was quite pleased to hear of this development. Now, I am sure you have studies you wish to pursue or friends you wish to pleasantly waste time with, so let us get straight to the point of this meeting." Dumbledore pulled out the Pensieve and poured in a memory.

"Whose memory is this, sir?" Harry asked.

"My own. It is of my first meeting with Tom Riddle, when I went to give him his Hogwarts letter and tell him that he was a wizard. Please, Harry, go ahead."

Harry put his face down into the Pensieve and found himself once again at the orphanage where Tom had grown up. This time, however, he was outside the front door, watching a far younger Professor Dumbledore ringing the bell. The door opened to reveal a stout, middle aged lady in a linen dress. "Yes?" she said.

"Good afternoon," the young Dumbledore replied. "I am Professor Dumbledore, and I have a meeting with the Head Matron to discuss one of your charges."

Professor Dumbledore was admitted and shown to the office of Mrs. Cole, the Head Matron of the orphanage. He explained why he had come, and Mrs. Cole discussed her perceptions of young Tom Riddle with him. After ten minutes or so, Dumbledore asked if he might meet privately with the boy.

Mrs. Cole sent one of the other matrons to fetch Tom and told Professor Dumbledore that he and Tom could take a walk together outside. Tom Riddle walked in, now three years older than he had been in the previous memory, and his features were no longer so boyish. He was tall, almost as tall as Harry was now at sixteen, and his face more closely resembled the face he would have as an adult. His features were set in a disdainful smirk, though he greeted Mrs. Cole with perfect politeness. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Cole," he said.

"Good afternoon, Tom. This gentleman here is Professor Dumbledore. He is here to speak to you about the new school you will be going to next fall."

Tom's face paled dramatically, though only for a second before it regained its composure. "Yes, Mrs. Cole," he said in a semblance of meekness.

"Come, Tom, let us take a walk together outside," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, sir," replied Tom. He seemed mostly composed, but his eyes were darting around madly, as if searching for an escape, and his hands were twitching ever so slightly.

They walked outside together, and then Tom said quietly, "I don't know what you've been told about me, sir, but it's not true, not any of it."

"Oh?"

"Whatever she said about Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, I didn't do anything to them. I don't know what happened," Tom said, his voice raised.

"Tom, why do you think I'm here?"

"You're here to take me off to the nuthouse, of course! Why doesn't anybody ever believe me when I say I didn't do anything! I didn't, I swear, and there's nothing wrong with me!"

"Tom, Tom, calm down please. I assure you, I am not here to take you to an asylum."

"Then why are you here? Tell the truth!" Tom's eyes flashed as he said this, and Harry could sense that he had used a bit of magic to enforce the command.

Professor Dumbledore must have sensed it as well, as he raised his eyebrows a bit. "I am here to invite you to a school called Hogwarts. It is a very special school."

"Oh, great, an asylum just for kids! I won't go! Do you hear me? I won't go!"

"This is an invitation, not an order. You are perfectly free to refuse. However, Hogwarts is not an asylum. It is, as I have said, a school. It is a school for people, who, like you, have magical abilities."

"Wait—you mean it's magic, what I can do?" Tom asked, his face now slightly excited.

"What is it that you can do?" Dumbledore asked with a slight frown.

"All sorts of things! I can make things happen—er, things that aren't normal. And I can hurt people if I want to," Tom said, with a slightly manic gleam in his eye.

"How long have you been able to control your abilities?" Dumbledore asked with a forced casualness.

"Three years. I started being able to when I was eight years old," Tom said proudly.

"I see. Well, at Hogwarts, you will be given instruction in how to use your abilities, so that you do not hurt anyone, especially not yourself."

Tom's face fell, ever so minutely. Harry might have missed it if he hadn't been watching for it. Tom's next words did not give any voice to his disappointment. "It sounds wonderful, sir. What do I need to do?"

"Here is a letter explaining the situation more fully. There is also a list of supplies you will need."

"Oh. But sir, I don't have any money."

"Not to worry, not to worry. There is a fund to provide for students like you." He handed Tom a small drawstring bag. "This should be enough to purchase everything you need, though you may need to buy some things second hand. Now, would you like me to accompany you on your shopping trip?"

"No. I can do it myself. I go into the city by myself all the time. Just tell me where I need to go."

"There is a small pub on Charing Cross road, called the Leaky Cauldron. You will be able to see it, thought the muggles—that is, those without magic—around you will not. Enter the pub and ask Tom, the barkeep, how to get into Diagon Alley."

"Yes, sir."

"If there is nothing else, then I will see you on September 1st."

"Just one more thing, sir. I can talk to snakes. Is that unusual?" Harry could see in Tom's face that he was hoping this would impress the professor.

Tom's hopes were not to be fulfilled, though. "It is unusual, but it is not unheard of," Dumbledore replied. Then he disappeared with a twirl of his cloak.

Harry came out of the Pensieve and found Dumbledore once again waiting to ask him what he thought. This time, Harry knew better than to tell the whole truth.

"He must have been up to more of what we saw in the last memory, to make Mrs. Cole so suspicious of him. I guess they also must have talked about sending him to an asylum."

"Indeed, after that incident, I believe his behaviour became more and more disturbing. What else?"

"He didn't have any trouble accepting that he was a wizard. When Hagrid told me, I couldn't believe it at all. I thought he must be lying. But Tom almost seemed to expect it."

"That is true. The young Tom Riddle always believed he was special and important."

That comment provoked Harry. "Or maybe he wanted someone to tell him that he was special and important," he said, slightly angrily. He cursed his Gryffindor mouth for letting that slip out.

"What do you mean by that, Harry?" Dumbledore said, his eyebrows raised.

Well, in for a knut, in for a galleon. "Just that—all his life, he was just another boy called Tom. No one paid any attention to him, well, not until he started using his magic, and then instead of being seen as special, he was seen as a freak, and possibly a mental patient. Then someone comes along and tells him that he's not a freak, and he desperately hoped that person would also tell him he was special. Why do you think he told you he could talk to snakes?"

At that moment, Albus Dumbledore realized that his plan to ensure that Harry would detest and not hesitate at all to kill Lord Voldemort was seriously backfiring, and it would have to be abandoned. He sighed, and smiled at Harry. "It seems that you already understand Tom Riddle far better than I ever could, Harry. I think we will leave off with these memories now."

"Yes, sir. Whatever you think is best," Harry said, being careful to only sound slightly disappointed.

"Perhaps you'd best be going back to the Gryffindor common room now. Unless there is anything else?"

Harry decided to go for it. He checked his Occlumency one last time, then said, "Yes, sir, there is something I wanted to ask you."

"Go ahead, then, my boy, ask away."

"I've been thinking a lot about Voldemort, especially about all of my past encounters with him, and something from that night at the graveyard is stuck in my mind."

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, looking concerned.

"Just that, well, you said that the Dursleys' house is protected by blood wards, based on the protection my mother gave me when she died. But after Voldemort took my blood, he could touch me. He couldn't touch me before, because of the protection of my mother. He has my blood—which means my mother's blood—now, too. If he could touch me, doesn't that mean he could enter Privet Drive whenever he wanted to?"

Now Harry felt the probing touch of Dumbledore's mind on his, and he realized he couldn't simply shut it out. That would be too suspicious. So instead he pushed forward memories of himself thinking about it and trying to decide whether or not to ask about it at their next meeting. It seemed to work, as the touch pulled out.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry, you are correct. There are still very powerful wards at Privet Drive, but the wards based on your mother's sacrifice will no longer prevent Lord Voldemort's entry."

"Did you know that all along?"

"Yes, I realized that as soon as you told me that Voldemort was now able to touch you."

"Then, sir, please, why send me back there?" Harry whispered desperately.

"They are your only family, Harry. What is more, I did not believe anyone would think to look for you there, in the midst of the muggle world. And, while that shield would not stop Lord Voldemort himself from entering, it would not allow the Death Eaters to enter, a not insignificant boon."

Harry paused to consider that. That last was actually a good point. He looked up at Dumbledore, and then frowned. The man still looked anxious, like he was hoping Harry would leave it at that. "There's more to it than that, isn't there, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry, there is. Your Aunt Petunia did not always hate her sister. Before Lily came to Hogwarts, the sisters loved each other deeply. However, Petunia was jealous of Lily's magical abilities, and resentful that she rarely got to see her sister anymore. When Lily married James, Petunia knew that she would never have her sister back, and slight jealousy and resent turned to outright enmity. Petunia was deeply remorseful when Lily was killed. She regretted never having made up with her sister. I had hoped that she could find redemption through you."

"I see. Was that all, sir?" Harry's tone was slightly biting now.

"Your parents also left a trust fund for your care and education, should anything happen to them. The Dursleys received a part of this money as recompense for the cost of caring for you. I knew this could not make them feel affection for you, but I believed that this money would at least ensure that your basic needs were cared for."

That made Harry snap. "Well you believed wrong, sir. My basic needs? Sure, if you call having a cupboard to sleep in being sheltered, and if you call getting the scraps from the meals that I cooked and cleaned up after being fed, and if you call having Dudley's nearly worn out and five sizes too big hand-me-downs being clothed! Oh, not to mention what a great job Vernon and Dudley did seeing to my need for discipline! You wouldn't want me to have a big head, after all, and being punched every time I stepped a toe out of line certainly kept me humble. And as for Petunia, she hated me. She saw me as the reason she never had a chance to make up with her sister, and she would have been happier if I had died with my parents. And was her redemption, redemption that she had already had thirteen years to attempt, really more important to you than my welfare? And on top of all that, they were paid to take care of me?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said. It only made Harry angrier to see that the old man was crying. "I truly had no idea that the situation was so bad."

"You never asked. You never asked Tom Riddle how he felt, either. Perhaps you ought to stop determining the fates of wizarding orphans, sir. I'm leaving now. Goodnight."

Harry stormed out of the office, and Dumbledore made no attempt to stop him. Power, fuelled by anger, rolled off of Harry in waves, and most people who saw him coming scrambled to get out of his way. Ron, however, wasn't so lucky, or, perhaps, so smart. He stopped in front of Harry, blocking his path.

"I don't have time to talk to you right now. Let me by," Harry snarled.

"No, wait, Harry, I wanted to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Oh, you just figured that out now? Good on you, mate. Now let me by."

"Harry, really, I'm sorry"—

Whatever else Ron was about to say was lost, as Harry's magic picked him up bodily and slammed him against the wall. Harry continued along his path, and he found an empty alcove on the third floor. He got out the invisibility cloak that he kept with him at all times and put it on. He had been uncertain about going to the Chamber, but now his mind was made up. Dumbledore obviously didn't give a damn about Harry's protection, and that meant he was just going to have to learn how to protect himself. And if Tom asked for Harry's help in bringing Dumbledore down, he wanted to be prepared.

He didn't encounter anyone on his way to the Chamber, and Myrtle wasn't even in her bathroom. Not that it mattered, since he was invisible anyway, but he didn't have to worry about sound, so that made it easier. He opened the sink and slid down the pipe. He heard the grating of the sink closing behind him.

He walked down the passageway to the main Chamber itself, memories echoing around him. He thought about when he had first seen the young Tom Riddle. Even then, he'd found Tom to be incredibly handsome. What he'd done to Ginny was bad, but Harry supposed he must have been going a bit crazy after fifty years locked up in a diary. And Tom was ruthless. It was something Harry knew he was just going to have to accept.

He got to the main Chamber, took off his invisibility cloak, and looked at the statue of Salazar Slytherin himself. "§Library,§" he hissed out. A door opened to his left, just as Tom had said it would. Harry went in, and was delighted to find thousands of books, all sorted by subject. "Now," Harry said to himself. "Would that book Tom mentioned be under Occlumency or Parselmagic?" He decided to start with the section on Parselmagic, since he wanted to find "Secrets of the Serpent" anyway. He went over to the shelf housing books on Parselmagic, and saw "Unique Occlumency for Parselmouths" on the top shelf. "Great!" he said, hardly believing how easy that had been. "Now, '§Secrets of the Serpent§,' where are you?" Harry hadn't noticed that he'd hissed out the title of the book, but then there was a flash, and something hit him over the head. "Ouch!" he yelled. He reached down to pick up the offending object, and found that it was the book he wanted. "Well, I guess that works out then." He thought he heard a soft chuckle somewhere, but he looked around and didn't see anyone, and it wasn't really possible for anyone else to be there, so he dismissed it as his imagination. He would have liked nothing better than to sit in the comfy-looking armchairs in the library and read for hours, but he knew that it wouldn't be wise to stay here for too long. People might be looking for him, especially after his outbursts at Dumbledore and Ron. He conjured a bag to put his books in for now, and headed toward the exit. Then he realized something. He didn't know how to get out. Fawkes wasn't here to fly him out, nor had he brought a broom or anything. He cursed his own temper and the stupidity it led to. "§How do I get out of here?§" he yelled, again unconsciously in Parseltongue.

Out of nowhere, a voice answered. "§Ask nicely and I might tell you, lion cub. §"

Harry was now quite confused, and also a bit scared, but decided to listen to the voice's suggestion. "§Please, will you tell me how to get out of here?§"

There was a hissing chuckle. "§Much better. Now, to get out of here, all you have to do is say the password.§"

"§What's the password, please?§" Harry asked, remembering to be polite.

"§You learn quickly, lion cub.§" Again, the hissed chuckle. "§The password is 'exit.'§"

"§And where will that take me, sir?§" Harry wasn't completely certain, but he rather thought the voice was a man.

"§Wherever you want in the castle. Just think about where you want to go. Incidentally, that also means that should you happen to say 'exit' in passing, you will not leave, because you will not be thinking of a destination.§"

"§And is there a password to return to the Chamber? Sir?§" he added quickly.

"§Yes.§"

"§Please, sir, what is it?§"

"§That, you must discern on your own.§"

"§And who are you, sir?§"

"§That, as well. I do not believe you shall find either task too taxing. Run along now. It's almost curfew.§"

Harry sighed. He would think about it later. For now, he put his conjured bag over his shoulder, put on his invisibility cloak, and thought about the old, no longer in use, Arithmancy classroom on the seventh floor. It was quite near Gryffindor tower, and it had no door, so no one ever used it for snogging or other illicit activities. "§Exit,§" he hissed. There was a brief sensation of being pushed through a tube, much like Apparation, and he found himself in the classroom he'd thought of. Still in the invisibility cloak, he looked out into the hallway. No one was there, so he took the cloak off, walked into the hallway, and entered the Gryffindor common room. As he entered, he noticed that everyone seemed to freeze. He wondered about that, and then he remembered what he'd done to Ron earlier. He decided he'd deal with it in the morning. He did his best to smile sheepishly at his housemates, and walked up the stairs to his dorm. He magically Sealed his curtains shut, put up Silencing charms, and got ready for bed. Tom had given Harry instruction in how to purposefully use the link between them the last time they met, and Harry was ready to put that lesson into practice.