Thanks for all the reviews on the first thirteen chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them:

Barranca, you provided me with eight or ten minutes of pointless fun as I explored the time lapse pumpkin videos. Thanks. :p I had never seen those before.

i like pineapples, thanks so much! I have only started reading one other story with a similar plot, and I must say I wasn't too impressed with it either. It gave me no inspiration for this one, I promise you.

Aoi Mitsukai, your compliments make me feel all warm and fuzzy. :p I am so glad that you like Marvolo's character. When I set out to write this story, I wasn't crazy about the fact that I would have to make Voldemort a main character (that was one of DarkFilly's stipulations for the agreement we made). I have had to use all my available resources to make him into someone that both DF and I could like. And I must say, he is growing on me. I have always liked Tom Riddle as a character, but I have always disliked Voldemort. They seemed like two different people. So in this story I am trying to give TR two sides without changing him too much from what JKR originally intended. Try doing that while staying true to your own beliefs and satisfying your friend who commissioned the story in the first place...it's a balancing act! Just to clarify for you, yes: TR's Trace is gone for good (or evil, ha ha) and he doesn't need to worry about it.

To everyone: I'm sorry about the cliffhanger... OK, that was a lie. I enjoyed leaving you hanging. I'm glad. :D

Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. As usual, you guys rock! :D

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WARNING: This chapter includes spoilers for OOTP and HBP. Ye be warned!

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Disclaimers: This is not a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This is what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, it is strictly a platonic one; the same goes for Draco).

Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p

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Author's notes: This story is for DarkFilly.

Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!

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XIV. Questions

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It was horrible. So much worse than Professor Lockhart removing the bones from his arm, or even than having to grow them back. Harry wanted to scream, but his brain was so busy trying to process a million impulses at once that it could not be bothered with sending messages to his lungs and throat to make a sound. Once in a while he felt a euphoric joy, but more often fear, sorrow and pain. At the outside of his consciousness he noticed that his chin was prickling—he was growing a beard. At least his scar did not burn now. But his vision was getting cloudy, as if he were wearing someone else's glasses. He felt a strange anxiety followed by peace, and then a great fatigue; he was certain he would pass out.

Then Harry realized that the same torture was beginning all over again, but in reverse.

No, he thought, I can't go through all that again. Please, let me out! He needed help. His vision was becoming clear again and he could make out Marvolo's face. Of course Marvolo would help him. Marvolo, please, his mind screamed. But another voice kept saying the name Voldemort.

A strangled cry ripped from Harry's throat as Marvolo pulled him free. He felt the sting of the cut on his cheek. He sobbed under the weight of the lifetime of emotions he had just passed through—twice.

"Harry," Marvolo whispered in his ear. "Shh, Harry. It's all right."

Harry realized he was making some pathetic sort of noise and clamped his jaw shut. He clung to Marvolo and cried silently. When he could form words, he begged, "Take me home? Please?"

"I will," Marvolo promised, but he did not move yet.

Harry felt his guardian's strong arms encasing him, shudders and all, and heard the soft hiss of Parseltongue. "I can't tell you how tall you will be," Marvolo told him, "but your eyes will stay green."

Then he healed the scratch on Harry's face and led him back through the Time Room.

Hardly noticing his changing surroundings, Harry stumbled along until they came to the lift. There Marvolo wrapped the Invisibility Cloak back around him before they continued.

The sky was turning a pale blue-grey when they emerged from the Ministry headquarters. A slight breeze revived Harry a little and he realized that the Malfoys were about to leave them.

"Draco?" Harry called, hating how feeble his voice sounded.

Draco, unable to see him, came awkwardly toward his location at Marvolo's side.

Harry reached one hand out from under the Cloak and rested it on Draco's arm to show where he was. "If I owl you, will you write me back?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks... for stopping me. I had no idea."

"It's OK," Harry said automatically.

Draco went back to his father and the Malfoys Disapparated.

"Are you all right to Apparate?" Marvolo asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, not bothering to consider the question. He welcomed the compressed feeling of nothingness that usually made him feel sick.

They arrived in the dining room. Marvolo sighed as he pulled Harry's Cloak off. "I had hoped to land us upstairs," he muttered. "Can you climb the stairs, or shall we try again?"

"Yeah, I can." In truth, Harry's legs and most of the rest of him felt fine. But his balance was off, and the ghost of a thousand sensations haunting his mind kept him from focusing very well. He kept a hold on Marvolo's arm to steady himself until they came to his bedroom.

Marvolo helped Harry over to his bed and shocked him by actually kneeling to remove Harry's shoes.

Tally appeared at the door and peeped in. "Do masters require assistance?" he asked.

Marvolo gave Harry a questioning look. "Tea?" he suggested. "Brandy?"

Harry shook his head. "Just sleep."

"I will look after him, Tally," Marvolo told the elf.

Tally vanished with a loud crack that made Harry's head throb.

Coming out of his numbness a bit more, Harry saw that Marvolo was beginning to help him off with his outer shirt. "I can do it," he said quickly. "I'm OK."

Immediately, Marvolo withdrew his hands. "All right," he said. He went to the hall door and looked back. "Forgive me for being 'creepy,' but I may be here when you wake."

Harry nodded. Something was clawing through the haze in his mind. He knew he should not try to discuss anything relatively important while his head was reeling, but it was causing a strange squirm in his chest that he wanted to get rid of. "Marvolo...?"

"Yes."

Harry took a deep breath to steady his voice. "I... don't hate you anymore."

"Thank you for telling me."

When Marvolo had gone, Harry peeled off his outer shirt and nestled into bed without bothering to undress further.

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What time is it? The semi-opaque windows made his room dim most of the day, but Harry could tell it must be mid-morning at least. Why would Marvolo let him sleep so late?

Then he remembered his ordeal and wondered how he could have forgotten, even for a moment. Still staring at the window, he said, "Marvolo?"

"I'm here," Marvolo answered from close by.

Harry rolled onto his side and saw that Marvolo had moved a chair to his bedside. He thought of saying, "Hullo, Creepy," but decided that it would not be wise. "Is my Trace gone?" he asked.

"Yes. I performed the test on you twice as you slept. It is definitely gone. How do you feel?"

"Much better than last night."

"Ready to try some simple wandwork?"

"Yeah." Too late Harry realized that after he had told Marvolo he could prepare for bed on his own, he was about to reveal that he had once again slept in his clothes. Blast, he thought. But there was nothing for it.

Marvolo made no comment on his attire, but Harry knew it had not escaped him.

"Is there time for breakfast?" Harry asked, noticing that he felt starved. "Or lunch? What time is it anyway?" He put on his glasses and reached for his watch on the bedside table.

"It is a quarter past eleven. I will conduct your lessons in the parlor. Tally will bring us something there."

"OK." Harry pulled a clean T-shirt from his bureau and glanced over his shoulder. Seeing that Marvolo was still seated, he said, "Um... I'll be right down."

Marvolo smirked and stood to go. "I will be waiting for you."

He says that almost like a threat, Harry thought, tugging his T-shirt over his head. And why the blazes does he look at me like that? He must realize it gives me the creeps.

Of course, a voice in his head agreed. That's why he does it. The sadist's idea of a joke.

"Well," Harry muttered to his reflection when he had popped his head out of the new shirt, "at least he's got a sense of humor."

The first few spells seemed strange to Harry—he felt certain that a letter from the Ministry of Magic would arrive any moment. But as time passed without interruption (except Tally bringing in a tray of little sandwiches), he began to relax and enjoy working magic again.

"You told me your Defense classes have been deficient the last two years," Marvolo said while they took their lunch break. "What exactly have you learned?"

Trying not to be too distracted by the fact that the Dark Lord was sitting on the floor with him and eating finger sandwiches, Harry replied, "Last year was mostly a load of rot about warding off vampires... and anything else we learned was just text. And this year..." Harry frowned, trying to remember whether Professor Lockhart had actually taught him anything useful. "Oh, I learned not to set a flock of Cornish Pixies loose."

Marvolo smiled.

"And I learned the spell Obliviate, but I've never tried casting it. That's supposed to wipe a memory, right?"

Arching one eyebrow, Marvolo said, "I am surprised that a Hogwarts Teacher would introduce you to such a spell in your second year."

"Er... it's a long story. I also learned Expelliarmus from the Potions master."

"Much more practical."

"Yes. You know, Draco Malfoy tried to take your diary away from me at one point—he thought it was mine, you see. I used the Disarming Charm to get it back from him."

"Well done."

"And somebody in the dormitory taught me a Tickling Charm—guess it's not very impressive, but it's easy to cast. Draco introduced me to a couple of nasty ones: Serpensortia and Taran— Taran-something. It made my legs jerk around a lot."

"Tarantallegra?" Marvolo suggested. "That one was just becoming popular in my day."

"Yeah, that's it. Snape also did one that made spells stop..."

"Finite Incantatum. Quite useful."

"I think I should definitely learn that one."

"Oh, you must learn them all."

Harry felt overwhelmed. "There's so much to learn."

"Yes, your education is deplorably lacking. By the time I was your age, I could control a weak-minded fellow student by the Imperius Curse and have him write lines or tidy the room for me."

"The Imperius Curse?"

"All in good time. Let's get you to master some of the spells you already know before you learn new ones."

Casting Tarantallegra and Rictusempra on Tally made Harry feel very guilty, but he knew that the spells did no permanent damage, and the house-elf never complained. The Tickling Charm was easy, so he did not need to practice it many times before Marvolo let him move on. Tarantallegra proved much more difficult, and it was nearly sunset before Harry could cast it with consistent effectiveness. Each time he performed it correctly he had the chance to practice Finite Incantatum to stop the spell.

At last Marvolo told Tally he could go to prepare dinner. "While we wait," he told Harry, "you may try to Disarm me."

"OK..." Harry was uneasy as he turned his wand on his guardian. It did not feel right; even if it had, Marvolo did not exactly inspire ideas of easy prey. It took a lot of nerve to raise his wand in the offensive stance and say the spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

Marvolo barely blinked. His wand had not so much as twitched in his hand. "Were you even trying?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, embarrassed. "Are you blocking me?"

"With only a very weak Shield Charm. I can do some spells without saying them aloud, though they tend not to be as strong."

"Great. That makes me feel better."

"Try again. Mean it this time."

Harry swallowed. He lifted his wand again and shouted the spell, channeling all he could through his wand at Marvolo.

This time Marvolo was driven back a step and the wand slipped from his long fingers, but he was able to catch it before it hit the floor. As he straightened, he was smiling. "Better. Again."

By dinner time Harry was able to Disarm Marvolo, but not with the force or finality he had observed when Snape cast the spell on Lockhart. Not even close. Marvolo seemed equally puzzled by the slow progress.

"I really am putting little effort into blocking you," Marvolo mused, dipping his spoon in his soup. "You had no trouble with the spells you practiced on the house-elf. We must conclude that the trouble is in either this particular spell, or the fact that you are performing it on me."

Harry thought back to the two times he had cast the spell before. He had had no trouble getting the diary away from Draco. And when he and Ron had cast the charm on Lockhart—an adult, and a teacher at that—Lockhart's wand had been very competently defenestrated.

"I don't think it's the spell," Harry said slowly. "Maybe you're just too powerful for me."

Marvolo shook his head. "The most powerful wizard imaginable could be defeated easily if he did not defend himself. I was hardly trying. Were you?"

"Yes! I gave it all I could, honestly."

"You are not holding back at all? You're not afraid of making me angry?"

"I don't think so. Maybe at the back of my mind somewhere, but I really was trying my hardest."

"Very well. We will try again after dinner. Remember, if you do manage to hurt me, I will be pleased, not angry."

"OK, I'll try."

But when Harry stumbled up to his room two hours later, he had still had very little success. He could get the wand out of Marvolo's hand, but it would not fly over for him to catch. He could drive Marvolo back a step or two, but he would not send him slamming into walls any time soon. It was frustrating, and at first he was afraid that Marvolo would not believe that he was really trying, but he found that his fear was needless. Marvolo seemed to know he was not holding back, but they were no nearer an explanation.

Harry bolted his doors and got a pair of pajamas from his bureau. His hand brushed something hard at the back of the drawer. Reaching to the very back, he drew out three objects: the basilisk fang, Marvolo's diary and the diary of Tom Riddle Senior. He had hidden them there the day he had moved to this room and then all but forgotten them.

He ran his fingers over the smooth, pale surface of the fang. He knew that even if he could be certain that he and Ginny were safe from its effects, he could not have brought himself to stab the diary now. He wondered if Marvolo remembered that he still had it. Probably—not much got past him.

Perhaps, Harry thought, he should just give Marvolo his diary and the fang, now that he knew he could not use them. But something made him tuck the objects back into the drawer and cover them with clothes again. The older diary he took to bed with him.

He skipped ahead several months from the place he had left off and the following entry caught his interest:

16 July, 1926

My life is in ruins. I came to myself some days ago. I don't know what could have possessed me. Surely it was more than rash youthful passion. How could a person become enamored of Merope on a whim? She isn't half so beautiful as I once thought, and I'm sure that less than a year of marriage can't be what's done it to her! It's gotten so I can hardly bear the sight of her. It is not fair to either of us. We must separate. I will tell her tomorrow.

Harry frowned. He felt a bit weird reading someone else's dirty laundry. But after all, Riddle was dead; and what was the point in keeping a diary if no one ever read it? He looked to the next entry, dated two days later.

Merope would not listen to me. She wept and carried on and was very tiresome, but I gave no ground. Then she told me she was expecting. Could anything have sped me on my way more quickly? I'm not certain I even believe her. She might have fabricated it to get me to stay. If she is with child than I should say I have escaped a very near thing indeed. Any child of hers is bound to be hideous and witless. I should be ashamed of such a child. And what would it profit them to have a husband and father who despised them? She got me by some trick of devilry, and she can take what she's earned.

Harry let out a long breath. "If Merope was hideous and witless," he whispered, "then your son must have taken after you, because he's neither, you...." He could think of nothing foul enough to call the man. Without warning, a tear dropped from Harry's eye onto the front of his pajamas. Was he really crying over...baby Voldemort?

"Harry?" Marvolo called softly from the next room.

Instinctively, Harry shoved the diary under his pillow. "Yes?"

"I am about to retire, if you do not need anything."

This sounded a bit strange for some reason, but Harry answered, "All right. Good night, then."

"Good night."

As Harry glanced at his watch and blew out the candle by his bed, he realized what was so unusual. It was very late. Harry almost never stayed up later than Marvolo did, and he had always been the one to find his guardian before bed. This time, Marvolo had come to him.

Great Scot, Harry thought to himself. Was it possible that Marvolo had been looking for his "good night" ?!

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Please give me reactions on what you found interesting or funny...the Trace removal, Marvolo's helpfulness, the spell-casting lessons, the diary. Whatever. I live for the reviews, guys. :) I love it that I've gotten a ratio of ten reviews per chapter. It's so cool of you all. *Huggles*