He was so going to kill Tom. The bastard had promised him never to lock him up in the diary again, but now the Slytherin did. Tom had left him in the darkness, while taking that monstrous child with him. Sure, his companion probably had a good reason for doing this, but a promise was a promise, there was no excuse that would make this right.
Harry had no idea what had exactly occurred. One moment he had been talking to Dumbledore, and the next he had woken up in the diary. With Tom, and that child. A boy, no bigger than a toddler, with pale skin and big red eyes, cold and murderous.
At first he thought this was the new part of Tom's soul, the part they had stolen from the locket, but that was impossible. That piece had been different, older and more ghost-like. This part, because it clearly was a part of Tom, was a lot stronger, and yet weaker at the same time. He had felt a strange connection to it, like it was a part of him, instead of Tom. Was that even possible? Could it be his darker side? Or was it something the headmaster had awakened with his little scheme?
He had so many questions, none he could answer, and none that would be answered unless he had Tom here, the bastard.
The darkness was too thick, unnerving, unbearable. He had been in here before, but never alone. And still he felt strangely at ease, as if he belonged here as much as the Slytherin did.
He waved his hand through the darkness, but nothing changed. He must have some sort of power in here, after all he shared a connection with the owner. He concentrated on going back to his body, out of the darkness, but that didn't work, it was like smashing into an invisible wall. It hurt. Tom probably still held his sway over the diary. Which meant that he couldn't do anything, the Slytherin didn't want him to do.
Bloody Riddle, he was going to kill the other for this, had he mentioned that?
Getting out of here was out of the question, but was it too much to ask for some light? Or a happier place? He was suffocating. He closed his eyes, picturing a nice breeze, running through his hair, and the sunlight on his skin. Being locked up always unnerved him.
It seemed like his hair was moving with the breeze. What imagination couldn't do for you. Wait a moment. Harry opened his eyes. A breeze was moving his hair! He blinked a couple of times. He was outside, on Hogwarts-ground, near the lake, on a hot summer's day. But that was impossible, seeing how it was midwinter right now. The whole castle was covered in a blanket of snow.
And yet here he was. Perhaps the diary worked like the room of requirements, you just had to think about it and it appeared. He turned his head when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Tom was lying against a tree. His black school rope was lying next to him, his cardigan folded neatly upon it. The Slytherin was sleeping, with a book on his lap, and an arm behind his head. The boy almost looked at peace.
"I never wished for him." Harry muttered, still wanting to kick his companion, but not wanting to wake him either. It was seldom he saw Tom so relaxed, as if he didn't have a care in the world. With a sigh he walked over to Tom, sitting himself next to the boy. He wanted to move Tom's hand so he could read the title of the book the other was reading, but he found himself unable to do so. His hand passed right through the other.
"Oh..." It dawned on Harry. This was not his imagination at work, but a memory. One of Tom's memories from his days at Hogwarts. That explained why the Slytherin looked younger than he did in the present day.
This development was rather interesting. Perhaps a bit unfair, but Tom did lock him up in here. It was the opportune chance to learn something about the past of his companion.
He closed his eyes again, leaving the peaceful scene, thinking about a much younger Tom, before the boy went to Hogwarts. When he re-opened his eyes, he was in a small bedroom, packed with a bed and a closet. Sitting on the bed, was a small boy, with stunning dark blue eyes, and short dark hair.
A much younger version of Tom, more innocent, less hidden behind a mask. The boy was tin and pale, almost unnaturally. This child held nothing of the natural grace his Tom had, the boy was in some way cute.
"Hello Tom." A man walked into the room, without even knocking. Even Harry knew how rude that was.
"What do you want?" The tone in the young boy's voice was cold, but not as strong or dismissing as his Tom managed.
"I am here to help you." The man smiled. "Misses Cole told me you have some issue's, I can help you with that."
Harry blinked a couple of times. Issue's? What issues could a boy this young have? Of course he knew Tom was no saint, but this version of him was barely seven years of age, perhaps even younger.
The small boy was angry, he could see it in those blue eyes, so much like Tom's, but yet so different. Emotion were rare when he looked at his Slytherin, this boy...he seemed to be filled with them.
"Leave me alone!" The younger Tom screamed. "I know what she is doing! I am not crazy."
The man stumbled back, clearly shocked by the response. But he regained his composure just as fast. "No one said you were crazy, but you might be struggling with a disorder, do you know what that is, Tom?"
"Leave me alone." The boy snarled again.
The man however did not, stepping closer to young Tom. "Perhaps it is best if you come with me, we don't want to scare the others, now do we?" Again with that smile, it made Harry sick.
"Do not touch me!" Young Tom retreated farther unto the bed.
But the man still ignored the boy's words, grabbing young Tom by his arm, to pull him of the bed and take him, wherever this man wanted to take him.
Now it was Harry, who snarled. Couldn't this man just leave him alone? It was clear young Tom loathed the touch, it even looked like it hurt. He wanted to punch the man, tell him to back off, but this was a memory, he could not do such a thing.
Suddenly the man let go. "What did you do?" Was that fear he heard? The man was holding his right hand with his left, close to his chest. There were clear burn marks in his skin. Harry looked back at young Tom, who didn't seem that surprised or confused. Did the boy do it on purpose? Was that even possible?
When he had been younger, accidents had happened, but he had never performed magic on purpose, not until he knew about his true inheritance. But here was a boy, who could control his magic at the age of seven, defending himself against a grown man.
"I told you not to touch me." Young Tom was back to the cold sneer, his emotions still visible in his eyes. Harry could swear he saw some sort of fear in there.
"Freak!" The man shrieked, before leaving the room.
Harry stared at young Tom, a bit shocked now. He was called a freak many times, by his aunt and uncle, and his cousin, but also by some people at school, and Dudley's friends. It always hurt, it felt like a knife cutting through your heart. But young Tom did not seem to react to it. He just sat back down on his bed, taking out a toy from underneath his pillow.
Harry was starting to understand why Tom hated muggles so much.
The images before his eyes changed. They were outside again, but this time it was raining. He thanked Merlin this was only a memory, getting wet was not in his plans. This Tom was a bit older then the last one, maybe nine or ten, but still before Hogwarts.
He was standing against a tree, his clothes soaking wet, his slightly longer dark hair, sticking against his skin. There was a boy in front of him, a head taller than Tom was. "You're a freak, Riddle." The boy spat, before punching young Tom in the face. The blow must have been quite hard, because young Tom started bleeding. His nose wasn't broken, otherwise his Tom would have nose like Dumbledore. Imagine that, a handsome face ruined by Dumbledore's nose. Okay, perhaps not the best thought when a young boy was being beaten by an older boy.
The second time the boy tried to hit the younger version of his Slytherin -since when was Tom his? -, he missed. Tom ducked out of the way, thus the boy hit the tree instead.
"Stand still, you little runt!" The larger boy grabbed Tom by his collar, dragging him back. Young Tom struggled, but was physically unable to defend himself against such a strong foe.
"Let go of me." Tom hissed, not unlike his older version.
Harry could understand why Tom became who he was. It was hard not to hate muggles when they treated you like this. Even the grown-ups were cruel to him. It was fear of course, fear for something they couldn't comprehend. Not all muggles could grasp the idea of magic. They were afraid of it, of the potential. And Tom was by no means a weak wizard. They had every right to fear him, but they had no right to treat him like this.
He clenched his hands into fists, feeling the anger rising. The images started changing again. Tom was standing in a room, looking upwards. The boy was still the same age as before. He followed Tom's gaze upwards. There was a rabbit floating through the air. What was young Tom planning?
It took him only a second to find out, when the rabbit squealed. A rusty pin was driven through the rabbit, killing it in an instant. A few drops of blood fell down.
It was at that exact moment the boy from before entered. "What are you doing, freak?" Much like Harry had done, the boy followed Tom's gaze upwards, before screaming. "My Rabbit!"
Harry had enough of this. He didn't want to see how cruel Tom could be, even at such a young age. There had to be something good about the boy, something that proved he wasn't so far gone like most people believed.
No one was born evil, it was a choice. Or at least something you were forced into.
The images flashed by, too fast for Harry to see anything. And then it stopped. They were in a room, probably the room of requirements. Tom -slightly younger then he was now- was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by dummies.
Even though it was only a memory, Harry could practically feel the magic around him. The Slytherin weaved complicated spells with his wand, without saying a word. Non-verbal magic, very powerful non-verbal magic. The dummies were hit, in rapid succession, by a variety of spells, some more dangerous than others, but all dark.
Still it was magnificent to see. Tom really was a singularly gifted wizard. How could Dumbledore ever expect him to beat such a powerful wizard? He was just a normal boy, only gifted with his exceptional flying-skills and his supreme luck.
One of the dummies exploded into a million piece, while another was consumed by dark flames. Another was cut into pieces by a very nasty curse. But still Tom did not stop. Even when he looked so exhausted, that he could pass out any second.
The Slytherin twirled around, light and magic surrounding him. That was what he wanted to learn, what he needed to learn if he wanted to protect his friends and family. If he could fight like that, a whole bunch of deatheaters wouldn't stand a chance against him.
"Are you having fun?" Harry turned slightly, to see how had entered, and dared to disturb Tom during such a beautiful dance of magic, only to find out it wasn't in the memory. The present Slytherin Heir stood behind him, arms crossed and a cold look in his eyes.
"I knew you were powerful, but I never knew you were this powerful." He replied, not really giving an answer to Tom's question.
"What else have you seen?" His companion didn't look all to happy. Maybe he had gone a bit far, it was after all Tom's personal live. He wouldn't want anyone inside his memories either.
"Nothing much." He shrugged. "Can you teach me this kind of stuff?"
"No." The Slytherin heir said. "For two obvious reasons. One, it is dark magic, I seriously doubt this is something you want to learn. And two, you had no right to skip through my memories, like it is a book."
Was Tom even serious? It was the Slytherin who had locked him up in this damned diary in the first place. They left the darkness of the diary, to return to the real world and their respective body's.
"Well then, maybe you shouldn't lock me up in your diary." He spat, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"It was for your own safety and mine, but that does not give you the right to peer into my life." Oh yes, Tom was angry. Understandable, but still unfair. "Now tell me, what else have you seen? Or should I force it out of you?"
Harry didn't notice the switch to parseltongue, he automatically changed with the other. "Nothing much. Nothing about the Horcruxes."
"Of course not, Sweetheart, I was the first horcrux ever created, my diary holds no memories of the others." Tom rolled his eyes, as if he should have known that. It was possible that the diary continued to fill itself with every memory Tom had, or shared with his creepy older counterpart.
"Speaking of which, what the hell was that...thing?" He had to know, even though he doubted the Slytherin Heir would give a straight answer, the other never had and probably never would, that was just how Tom worked.
"A part of you, do not change the subject." Tom looked away from him, suddenly realising they had an audience. Even though none of the others could understand their conversation, they probably had a good grasp on what is was about. And Tom couldn't go all out, setting up some limitations. "Leave." He hissed towards the group, still standing around them.
Snape left immediately, knowing what the young Dark Lord could do. As did Draco. Even Professor McGonagall left without a word, but Madame Pomfrey and Sirius stayed.
"I need to take care of my patient." The medi-witch protested.
"He is fine, now leave." Model student, as if. There was no need to use the mask now. Pomfrey knew who Tom was and what the boy was capable of. She turned around, an air of annoyance around her. Then she slammed the door to her office shut, leaving him with The Slytherin Heir and his godfather.
"And what is your excuse?" Tom arched a brow.
"He is my godson."
"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious." Tom gestured dismissively at the door. "Now go play catch, Black."
The tension between the two of them rose. Harry sighed. If he was going to be subjected to this kind of behaviour again, he was going to have a headache for the rest of the year.
"Sirius, please leave." He grabbed the sleeve of his godfather's jacket. "He won't hurt me. Besides Madame Pomfrey is right behind the corner if I need her."
His godfather looked at him a minute longer, before turning his gaze towards Tom. "You better make sure he stays safe, Riddle." Sirius nodded at him, before stepping out of the hospital wing, leaving the two of them alone.
"Are you going to tell me what that thing was, or do I need to find out by asking Dumbledore?" He raised a brow, much in the same way Tom did when he was threatening someone.
"Would you still be so foolish to go near him?" Tom asked, setting himself down in the chair next to the bed. "If so you are less intelligent then I gave you credit for."
He rolled his eyes, typical Tom. "Or perhaps I find his ideas more appealing than yours. He might be demented, but at least he genuinely cares about me."
"Oh, is that why he wants to sacrifice you, like he did your parents?" The Slytherin looked understanding. "How could I not see that? Voldemort must care a lot about you, giving the fact that he has been trying to kill you since you were one year old. It makes a lot more sense now."
"Oh Merlin!" He slapped his forehead. "You are absolutely right, Tom! I need to find Voldemort immediately, I'm sure he will be one hell of a friend to me."
They stared at each other, Harry with a dead serious expression, while Tom looked a bit taken aback, before smirking. "I am rubbing of on you, Sweetheart."
"Yeah sure, that's what happening." Harry rolled his eyes again. Was everything a game to this guy? Probably, Tom thrived on these kinds of arguments. "Now tell what that thing was. Was it a horcrux?"
"If you know the answer, then why ask me?"
"Then were did it come from? It's not the piece from the locket, I saw it, it was...smoky and a lot older. This thing...it felt so familiar." He looked straight at Tom, but the older boy didn't say anything. It was some kind of test. He needed to figure this one out himself. "If it's not the locket-horcrux, nor a part of the diary, then..."
Harry swallowed. It was as he feared, it was a part of him. "That thing...it came out of me?"
"It has been there for the past fourteen years, to be more accurate." Tom said. "Apparently it was awakened when we preformed the ritual. That would also explain why you were so affected by the magic. And why you became stronger and more alert afterwards."
He had been affected by the ritual and the magic, because he carried a part of Voldemort in his body, closely connected to his magic and his soul. He felt sick. It explained a lot more. This was why he was the chosen one, why Dumbledore needed him. Because without him, Voldemort remained immortal. It didn't matter if he died, the soul-piece of the Dark Lord would be destroyed with him, weakening him.
Equals. Voldemort marked him as an equal by giving him a part of himself. So he actually was evil, or at least partially. "But why didn't it awake sooner?" His voice was a whisper, he almost sounded broken. If it had been there for the last fourteen years, he should have noticed, he should have felt it.
"Because your precious headmaster contained your magical core, and by doing so, he contained the horcrux as well." Tom explained, a calculated look in his eyes.
A whole new level of deceit. Was there no depth to which Dumbledore wouldn't go to reach his goal? How could the headmaster betray him like that? He had the right to know. Dumbledore had no right to block his magic, especially not since he had to defend himself on countless occasions.
"Come." He looked up at Tom.
"Where?"
"There is something I want to show you." The Slytherin rose and offered his hand.
Harry hesitated, not because he didn't trust his companion, but because this was a bit to fairy-tale-like. The prince holding his hand out to the princess, pulling her away from the evil queen, so they could live happily ever after. He grinned. This was just ridiculous.
"Do I even want to know what you are thinking right now?" Tom asked, still holding out his hand. "Knowing your imagination, it is probably something cheeky. Do I need to kiss you first, or are you going to take my hand?"
Harry blushed slightly, grabbing the other his hand. As if he ever wanted to be kissed by Tom Riddle, it wasn't a dream come true, more like a nightmare. Tom might look like Prince Charming, but he certainly wasn't.
They apparated out of the hospital wing. It gave him a really weird feeling, like he was being pressed through a to small tube. It wasn't pleasant.
When they got out, they were standing at the edge of the forbidden forest. He held Tom's hand tightly, feeling a little bit disorientated.
"I thought you couldn't apparate inside Hogwarts." He ushered, looking up at his companion.
"Every charm can be broken." Was all Tom said, before dragging him along, further into the forest. They didn't go far, for which he blessed Salazar. He had been in this forest to many times, none of the memories were pleasant.
"Is that...?" Harry wrenched his hand free of Tom's grasp, getting closer to the thing, that was lying at the feet of a tree. No, not thing, person. "Pettigrew. But how?"
"My methods are my own. All you need to know is that I kept my promise, now it is time for you to keep yours."
Harry looked at the Slytherin. Another Horcrux. This one was not going to be so easy as the previous one. Sure, he had some ideas, but searching the entire school wasn't really such a good idea. He sighed. "Al right, but you are going to have to help me. You know yours...him better than I do."
"Him?" Tom smirked. "Are you making a complete distinction between myself and my older counterpart now?"
"Yes." Harry replied, rather heated. "You are not him, and you are never going to be him." He would make sure of that. Tom had a whole new chance to become someone else, to use his powers for a better cause, without hurting and killing so many people. He owed it to all who died, to his parents.
"My, what resolutions." The Slytherin waved his wand, levitating the rat. "Now, what do you want to do with this one?"
"We will leave him in the very capable hands of the dementors." like he had planned in his third year, before the bastard had escaped. His godfather would finally be free, and he could go back to Grimmauldplace during the summers. Dumbledore's plans be damned.
"This is impossible!" The ex-Gryffindor screamed, throwing his head back.
"I never knew you gave up so easily, Sweetheart." Tom purred, closing a book with school records.
"It could be anywhere!"
"Of course not. Do you think I would leave pieces of my soul randomly scattered around Britain?" Voldemort was still him, in certain aspects. Neither he nor his older counterpart would be so careless. The object held great value, at least for him. Which meant they were symbols of magic, or his inheritance. The locket had been part of his Slytherin ancestry. The diary contains him, and his greatest lifework. Perhaps another family heirloom from the Gaunts. Or artefacts from the other founders.
"No, but Hogwarts isn't really random, still it contains a lot of corridors and secret places, like the very room we are in." Harry muttered, still not sitting straight.
"True." He conceded. "But there are only a few places within this castle I would even consider."
One of them was this very room. But in what kind of room would he hide it? A treasury? No, that would be to obvious. Perhaps a reconstruction of the Slytherin commonroom? Again, to obvious.
"I could always go down to the chamber, but I just don't want to see that basilisk of yours again."
"It is dead, you killed it." He remarked.
"And that's precisely why. Can you imagine what it would smell like down there?" The boy shivered, finally looking up at him.
"A basilisk is a magical creature. It does not smell. I doubt there is anything left but a skeleton by now." He kept only half a mind focused on the conversation with Harry. The other half was too busy trying to find the perfect solution. "Besides." He muttered very uncharacteristic. "I would never hide a horcrux there. The diary already had a connection to that place."
The golden boy was quiet for a while, Tom could feel those green eyes upon him, but he ignored it. There was the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, he thought himself brilliant enough to find it. Then there was the sword of Gryffindor, which couldn't be a Horcrux, seeing how it took everything that made it stronger, including the venom of the basilisk, which had the power to destroy a horcrux. Salazar locket, but he already had that one and the cup of Hufflepuff. The last one could be one of them.
"There is one in here, isn't there?" Harry interrupted.
He looked at the green-eyed hero. "Was that a lucky guess, or can you actually feel it?"
"Neither." The boy said.
He got up, walking towards a bookcase, which contained all the books on magical families and their heirlooms. His fingers stroked the spines of the books, until he found the one that he needed. "Did your brilliant mind lead you to this conclusion then?"
"No, the horcrux told me."
He turned around immediately, thereby dropping the book he was taking out of the bookcase. "He speaks to you?"
Harry looked pale, unnaturally pale. "He said his name was James, and that he could help me recover what I needed."
Tom arched a brow. "He is keeping that foolish name?" His 'brother' could at least have chosen a different name, more suited to who they were. Marvolo for instance, it was a great connection to the Gaunt-family. But on the other hand this part of his soul had been touched by the light of Harry's soul. Harry and the horcrux were more connected then he and this 'James'.
"A piece of your soul is speaking to me, and that's what you chose to comment about?" The boy looked astound, and annoyed at the same time. "Have you spoken to it...him before?"
"I am simply noting the lack of style. James is an ordinary dull name, ill-fitting for one such as he." He remarked, picking up the book about the Hogwarts founders. "Yes, I have. When you decided that you had every right to look into my past."
Why would this horcrux speak to Harry now? It had been awakened for a couple of months now, ever since they had pieced the locket-horcrux back together with his part of their soul. Was his 'brother' going to take over Harry? Or did it have an ulterior motive? How much of his traits were left in the piece, that spent so much time in the light of Harry's soul?
"Don't start on that, Tom. We already ended that discussion." Now Harry sounded more annoyed then anything. "Why did you never tell me? Don't you think I have the right to know that you spoke to my...your other half? And James is not a dull name!"
"As a matter of fact, we have not." He sat back down on the couch. "You changed the subject." He really didn't want to talk about Horcrux-Harry. Not now at least. He wanted to talk to the soul-piece first, before he answered any of Harry's question concerning him.
"Like you are trying to do now. You promised to answer my question truthfully, Riddle."
"Riddle? Since when are we back at last names, Potter?" He questioned, still avoiding the subject.
"Since your pissing me of." The boy replied irritably. "Now are you going to tell me or..."
"Or what, Sweetheart?" He purred, grabbing the boy's wrist and pulling him closer. "Are you going to threaten me again?"
Harry reached for his wand, but he stopped the boy by grabbing his other wrist as well, pushing Harry backwards until he was lying on the couch. Tom pinned both the boy's wrist with one hand, leaning over Harry now.
"Let go of me." The ex-Gryffindor growled.
He looked at his companion, tracing his fingers over the lighting bolt scar, down his cheek, until he ended up at the boy's neck. His gaze moved upwards, to the killing-curse green eyes, such a lovely colour. "People would die to get this close to me, Sweetheart."
"I would die to get away from you." Harry spat. "And don't call me sweetheart."
Tom smirked, before putting some pressure on the boy's throat. "Why not, Sweetheart? It fits you so well." He leaned in closer, almost pressing his lips against the boy's ear now. "I could kill you, you would make such a beautiful corpse."
At that the boy started to struggle, his survivor-instincts kicking in. Tom tightened his grip on the boy's throat. "Are you afraid, Harry?" He hissed.
"Of you?" The boy managed to get out. "Please, you wouldn't kill me even if your life depended on it. As a matter of fact, it does." Harry's voice sounded strained, which was not abnormal, considering the boy could barely breath.
He laughed. "Brave little Gryffindor, are you not?" Once again Harry was challenging him, something not a lot of people had ever dared. During his school-days, most of his 'friends' were afraid of him, or respected him too much. And after that...well, Voldemort had quite the effect on people, and not in a good way. "Rest assured, I will not kill you, but neither will I let you go, not ever." He leaned in closer again, a blush appeared on Harry's face. "You are mine, Harry, for ever."
Tom got up again, straightening his clothes, before walking towards the door. "Come on, Sweetheart, we have a horcrux to find."
he heard the boy get up, but without any commentary. He was certain, when he looked back, he would see a distressed pale little Gryffindor, with a defiant gleam in those wonderful green eyes. He really was going to keep the boy all to himself, his horcrux, his door to immortality.
"Harry!" They had barely left the room, when the mutt came running towards them. "I'm finally free!" Oh great.