Fact: Did you know only Alan Rickman, the actor who played Professor Snape, knew his character's fate before the release of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" because Rowling told him.

Chapter 8

Harry rolled around contently on his bed. Riddle's expression when he was told that he was now sharing a room with Harry was priceless! The scowl on his face…. It made the rest of his day!

He looked over to the side of his bed to see Riddle glaring at him. A book sat on his lap but his eyes were staring daggers at Harry.

"I still don't like you, you know" Riddle said. "I might have been nice to you once, but to be honest, you are far too annoying to be liked." He kept on glaring morosely at Harry.

"That's alright," replied Harry, glibly. "I tend to grow on people."

Tom huffed, and looked outside the dreary window, giving up on talking to him.

Harry had spent the whole day cleaning the kitchen. It was actually fun because Gladys was also there. Though quiet and timid, she was entertaining. Both of them spent lots of time bad-mouthing Ms. Robertson, who also tortured Gladys frequently. Later, she had even sneaked him some food, so even his stomach liked her. He sighed. The success of his previous plan did not give him any illusions about the next part. He was sure that Riddle would not be so accommodating to change himself.

"How was school, today," he asked Tom after a while, trying to fill the silence that had grown around them.

"None of your business," answered Riddle, not even looking up from his book.

"What book are you reading?"

"None of your business," came the answer again.

….

"It looks really interesting."

…..

"Did you really kill a poor, innocent baby rabbit?"

Riddle exploded. "What is it with you? Can't you stay for 5 minutes without opening your mouth? I take back everything I've said about you. You are not like the others. You are far, far more infuriating." Then he added dejectedly under his breath, 'I wish I had my room back to myself.'

"Geez, Sorry," said Harry, rolling his eyes. He knew that there would be some technical problems when he moved to Riddle's room. He did not expect Riddle to roll over and let him in. After all, Riddle was Riddle.

He was still utterly bored, though. He looked around trying to occupy himself with something. He suddenly found Riddle's book-cover fascinating. He stared at it from different angles, trying to make out shapes in the faded colors. He kept staring until Riddle's face began to resemble a thundercloud.

"Is my face so interesting?" asked Riddle darkly, looking quite dangerous.

"No," replied Harry slickly. "Not really."

"Good," came the reply. "Then look somewhere else."

"I was just providing you with entertainment," said Harry peevishly. "I would have thought that you'd like the idea of having someone to talk to."

"Not when that someone is you," came the reply. "But I concur," Riddle said suddenly, closing his book and looking at Harry. "Compared to the others in this orphanage, you are not that bad."

"I know," answered Harry, self assured of his own worth. After all, Riddle did talk to him without any murder attempts and wonders beyond wonders, had actually apologized to him. That did not happen to just anyone, so Harry was quite sure that Riddle would not be killing him anytime...yet.

"But the question remains. Why?" asked Tom, looking up at Harry intriguingly. "I understood your reasons before, but I don't think that is the entire truth."

Harry grimaced inwardly, trying to clear his face of any suspicious or guilty looks.

"You see," continued Tom, his clear eyes piercing Harry's. "Any other person might have acted nice to me based on the reasons that you gave. But you….you have done everything possible to get on my nerves and make me talk to you. You are the first person in the entire orphanage who is not freaked out by the fact that I can do things that others can't. Not even a 'How do you do that?' that everyone else asks. So, tell me Harry. Who are you really and what do you want from me?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He didn't think Riddle was so perceptive. He should have not been so obvious. Blast it, he should have come up the cover story yesterday.

He finally decided to go with part of the truth. He was not a great liar up-front, usually. This way, it was safer and he hopefully wouldn't get his stories mixed up later on.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he began, praying that he wasn't making a mistake. "You see, as soon as I saw you, I knew you were different….. I knew that you were like me."

"Like you?" asked Riddle. "Explain," he ordered.

"The things that you can do…. the strange unexplainable happenings….. they happen to me too."

Riddle narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"You asked what I want from you," continued Harry, ignoring Riddle's question. "I don't want anything from you except your friendship. You see, before I came here, I used to live with my Aunt and Uncle. My parents had died when I was a baby. And I don't think that my aunt liked my parents all that much."

Harry took another breath before continuing. He was planning on giving Riddle the truth of his real past, just changing around the details, such as the date and time, and the names so that he would know to keep his stories straight. His past was a good enough sob-story, especially if he changed around some of the details.
"They….When they saw that strange things happened around me, they began treating me horribly. I was given a million chores to do. I watched them love their own child, spoiling him, as I was shut up in my cupboard, which was my bedroom."

Harry didn't want to reveal such personal details, but he had to gain the trust of Riddle. So, he plunged forth. "Each time I did something strange, I was punished and reprimanded. They treated me more like a slave than a nephew, I think. They tried to convince me that what I could do was just my imagination, but I knew that it wasn't. Every time that I tried to convince them, they threatened to dump me at the orphanage." This part was absolutely true. How many times had Uncle Vernon threatened to do that? He was sure that it was only due to Dumbledore's threat that they actually didn't.

Now came the improvisation part. "It was last Saturday, when I was outside doing chores that it happened. My cousin came outside and began taunting me. I told him to go away, but he wouldn't. Then he tried to grab me and suddenly, he was lying on the ground, crying his eyes out. I did not really try to do anything, but it just happened. As soon as my Uncle heard that, he decided that he had enough and left me on the streets. He never looked back." Remembering what Greg had told him about how Ms. Cole found him on the doorstep, he incorporated that part into his story. "I just kept on walking and walking until I felt like I would drop from exhaustion. That's when I saw this orphanage. By then, I don't really remember everything perfectly. Then, when I woke up, I was in a soft bed, here." Harry paused here, giving time for the story to sink in. To be quite honest, the bed was not really soft. It was lumpy and dirty and disgusting. Not that he was complaining.

"When I saw you," he continued. "When I heard the stories that the other children said about you, I understood that you were like me. I understood that you could do things that were similar to what I could do and the other children were afraid of you for that. I know what that feels like. I received the same thing from my relatives. That's why I wanted to befriend you. That's why I defended you. You and I….. We're the same."

If Harry had known a week ago that he would say such things to his arch-nemesis, he would have Cruciated that person right there. Now, look at him….

During the entire recounting, Riddle had not said a word. He just sat there, listening intently to all Harry had to say.

Harry was too scared to look up now. Would Riddle have bought it? He didn't want to look up and ruin everything. What if he didn't believe him? What if Riddle did something to him? Harry cursed himself again for his infernal luck in not getting a wand sooner.

"Prove it."

Harry looked up in surprise. Riddle's face looked like it was set in stone, his eyes cold and hard, and his mouth a thin line. Though his face remained unmoving, his eyes showed the inner turmoil within him. Harry flinched unconsciously at the commanding glare that Riddle was giving him. If looks could kill, he would have been dead on the spot.

He was doomed. He had no way to prove that he had magic, because his accidental magic was outside his control. Unlike Riddle, he couldn't call his magic forth at will.

"Why should I believe anything you've said? I've only known you for less than 4 days. Why should I believe that this is not some sort of cruel joke?" continued Riddle, harshly, his eyes promising retribution if it was.

Harry gulped audibly. He could only hope that he had some semblance of his magic left. He had never brought forth his magic wandlessly, but it flared up naturally in life-or-death situations. This should certainly count as one, he thought. If he couldn't prove he had magic, Riddle would probably kill him. Painfully.

Harry pointed his hand towards the wardrobe, trying to do what he had seen Dumbledore do in the memories. He forced himself to think of the wardrobe on fire. He willed his magic to flow through his hand and set fire to it. He imagined flames shooting from the tip of his fingers onto the cupboard. After a few minutes of his attempts, feeling like he had just done a million push-ups after running a mile, he looked up to see the wardrobe still looked untouched. Blast it!

"I thought so," said Riddle, looking at Harry in contempt.

"N-no," said Harry, beginning to panic. "I was telling the truth. You have to believe me." He tried to squash his increasing panic. His plans would be ruined. Riddle would never trust him again.

"I don't think so," replied Riddle. "You c-" Riddle paused suddenly and looked to the side.

The wardrobe was on fire.

The wardrobe… was on…. fire….

Harry nearly laughed in glee. He had done it. He had set the wardrobe on fire without his wand! Riddle had to believe him now. He proved that he had magic too.

Then only did he actually look properly at what he had done.

The wardrobe was on fire! In a building that was primarily made of wood, he had set something on fire, with no way of ensuring that he could extinguish it.

The flames began to flare up to the ceiling of the room.

Riddle was frozen, looking at the wardrobe in shock. He snapped out of it and turned back to face Harry, his eyes screaming bloody murder.

Oh damn! Harry thought. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

"Don't just stand there like a dolt," screamed Riddle. "Go get the matrons, NOW!"

Harry took the chance and ran out of the room. Harry ran downstairs shouting for help. Ms. Cole ran out of her office, Ms. Robertson close behind her. "What happened?" they asked simultaneously.

Harry quickly gasped out, "The cupboard….fire….it's on fire."

Cole and Robertson jumped into action so fast that Harry was not even sure what happened. Robertson was running to the kitchen, screaming for Gladys to get water ready. Cole ran upstairs with a speed that belied her size. As Harry reached his room, it was already filled with smoke to the brim. Harry could see Tom near the wardrobe. He was trying to smother the flames that were building up in size and intensity. Harry could feel his eyes beginning to water.

"TOM, GET OUT!" screamed Ms. Cole, as she tried to enter the room.

By then, the other children in the orphanage had come out of their rooms, to see what the commotion was. Cole was forced to look to them as she tried to order them to get downstairs, out of the way of the fire.

Utter chaos followed. The little children began screaming and crying. The bigger ones trying to get the little ones downstairs safely were shouting to one another over the din. Smoke began filling the corridor.

Harry couldn't even see Tom anymore. He began to panic. No way, was he going to let someone die because of him, especially a child, no matter who the child was. He had been the one to set the wardrobe on fire, and he should be the one trying to extinguish it. Covering his nose and mouth with his shirt, he plunged into the room. Smoke was pouring out of it, making his eyes burn. He could hear Cole behind him, shouting at something. He ignored her and moved forward. By then, the flames had begun licking at the windowsill. Harry looked around the smoke-filled room, trying to catch sight of Tom. He couldn't see him anywhere. He wasn't near the cupboard anymore. Harry moved forward again, unable to stop breathing in the fumes. Near the bed was a crumpled body.

"Tom!" he shouted, running towards the small lump. He rolled him onto his back. Tom's face looked pale and haggard. Harry concluded that Tom was probably trying to escape the room, when the smoke and fire became too much for him. Harry cursing his small size and meagre strength, dragged Tom over to the other end of the room, where there was less smoke at the moment. The way that Harry had come in was completely flame filled. There was no way out. He covered Tom with a blanket on the floor, shielding him from the flames. He could hear shouting from outside the room, but the fire and smoke were beginning to overcome him. His vision began getting hazy around the edges. The room began to swirl slowly and Harry knew that he couldn't keep his eyes open for much more. He had inhaled too much smoke already. He shoved Tom further to the corner of the small room away from the flames as shouts pervaded in the background. He still couldn't hear the words over the resounding din between his ears.

He finally gave up his fight to stay conscious, giving in at last to the inviting blackness.

I know... I'm evil...