Not long after Tom announced his plans for revenge on the Weasley twins, Harry slipped into darkness. He wasn't sure if he slept or if this was what a coma felt like. He woke up briefly once to find Madam Pomfrey standing over him, waving her wand. His eyesight was fuzzy but he could see her lips move. He just couldn't hear a thing she said. Or hear anything for that matter. Madam Pomfrey offered him a quick smile and poured a potion down his throat. More darkness awaited him.
The next time he regained consciousness he was back inside the glass box and riding along with Tom. This time, though, nothing exciting happened as Tom spent several hours doing research on some potion that involved a lot of arithmancy that went way over Harry's head. Harry used that time to quietly reassure himself that yes, he was still alive, and Tom was still his soulmate and even though the glass box prevented him from feeling Tom's soul for himself, it wouldn't last forever. Eventually he'd wake up properly and feel his soulmate again.
Harry woke up once more very briefly. This time Madam Pomfrey wasn't alone, but a middle-aged man in green St Mungo's robes stood beside her. They were talking between themselves, but it sounded like gibberish to Harry. Like they were speaking an entirely foreign language he'd never heard before. He must have made some sound of distress, because Madam Pomfrey placed her hand on his forehead while the healer gave him another potion.
Sharing dreams wasn't nearly as much fun when you couldn't twine yourself around the other part of your soul, Harry found out when he spent some time with Tom while he was asleep. Tom's dreams started out in the reception room of Riddle Manor with Tom and a dream-Harry, looking to be seventeen years old or so, sitting opposite each other. They were talking and laughing and Harry couldn't look away from Tom's expression, relaxed as it was with affection and humour.
Dream-Harry got up and left, and Tom jumped up to chase after him. The moment he opened the front door of Riddle Manor, Tom stepped into a scene from his past. Dream-Harry walked on, never looking back no matter how loudly Tom yelled at him to stop as he ran through the Chamber of Secrets, which turned into the obstacle course hidden below the third floor corridor, which led to the graveyard where a snake-faced Voldemort shot spell after spell at dream-Harry. Tom screamed and tried to reach for his own wand but it became clear he didn't have it. Dream-Harry ran and dodged the green flashes and made it to Riddle Manor which wasn't Riddle Manor at all, but Wool's orphanage. Tom relentlessly pursued dream-Harry through the empty, dilapidated corridors until dream-Harry found the door that led to the court-yard, which was in fact the clearing in the forbidden forest where Harry had gone to die.
Lord Voldemort stood surrounded by masked Death Eaters and dream-Harry stopped in front of him as Harry himself had done in his previous life.
"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived," Voldemort said, just as Tom crashed the scene. Dream-Harry stood perfectly still while Tom frantically looked from Voldemort to dream-Harry and back.
No, stop!" Tom yelled, but it was too late. Voldemort spoke those dreaded words and a green flash left his wand, heading straight for dream-Harry.
Only to be intercepted by Tom who threw himself in front of dream-Harry with a primal cry of anguish.
Inside his glass box, Harry screamed and struggled against his invisible restraints. He'd just seen Tom die, killed by his alter ego while trying to save Harry's life, and Harry couldn't take it. Of all the people he'd lost, he refused to lose Tom. He wouldn't allow it. He screamed and struggled and demanded he be released from these bonds.
He screamed and struggled and pushed his sheets aside and fell out of his hospital bed.
"Mr Potter! Calm down." Hands grabbed hold of Harry's arms, but Harry pushed them away. He had to find Tom. He had to make sure Tom was still alive. And if he wasn't, if that dream had been reality like Harry feared, then Harry had to find Death and bargain to have his soulmate released again.
"Severus, help me!"
More hands, stronger ones, held onto him. "Mr Potter, calm down," a deep voice spoke directly into his ear. Harry became more aware of his surroundings as the adrenaline coursing through his body slowly receded. A firm body pressed against Harry's back while steel arms kept him in place. "You are in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. You were injured in a Quidditch match but have made a full recovery."
"Tom," Harry croaked, his throat dry and voice raspy.
"He is fine," Snape whispered back. "I spoke to him just an hour ago."
Harry's body went limp out of exhaustion now that he came to realize it had been just a dream. Tom's dream, or nightmare would be a better description. And Harry had been pulled along for the ride.
"Drink this, Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey said as she pressed a vial against his lips, but Harry turned his face away. He'd had enough dreamless sleep. He was not going back in the glass box.
"It's a calming draught," Snape said, clearly possessing clairvoyant powers of some sort. "It will not make you sleep again."
Harry looked at Snape's face over his shoulder as best he could and Snape seemed to be telling the truth, so Harry opened his mouth and swallowed the potion that did indeed have the slightly citrusy flavour of a calming draught. A warm sensation spread throughout his body, lowering his heartrate and weighing down his arms and legs.
"Let's get you back to bed, Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, and together with Snape she manoeuvred him onto the bed. Harry let them and stretched out on the mattress while Pomfrey pulled the sheet back over him. "You still need rest, but you'll have to sleep on your own from now on."
Harry took that to mean he wouldn't be dosed with more sleeping potions, which was a very welcome change. He reasoned it was those sleeping potions that kept him in a glass box, mentally, and unable to feel his soulmate and he hated that. What he needed was his mirror, but that was locked in his trunk and his body was so heavy that Harry doubted he could escape the Hospital Wing and sneak back inside his dormitory. He didn't want to sleep even when his eyelids grew heavy, because Tom had just woken up from a nightmare and Harry doubted he'd go to sleep again so soon after that horrible dream, so Harry wouldn't feel him, wouldn't get to spend time with him, so Harry refused to sleep...
Harry slept. If he dreamed, he didn't remember it.
The next time he awoke, the sun seemed to be up for only a few hours and there were people sitting around his bed.
"I think he's awake," Daphne said, which led to some murmuring and the scraping of chairs around his bed.
"Mweugh," Harry managed to say before his dry throat constricted and he coughed.
"Here," Neville said, standing up from his seat. "Madam Pomfrey said you could have some water when you woke up." Neville pressed a glass against Harry's lips and Harry drank greedily, only realizing how parched he was once the water flowed down his throat.
"How are you feeling?" Theo asked, leaning closer towards the bed. Harry blinked a few times and took in the kids gathered around his bed. His Slytherin friends and Neville.
"The Puffs wanted to visit as well," Tracey explained, probably realizing Harry would wonder where they were. "But Pomfrey would only let so many friends visit at once, so they've got the afternoon shift."
"You're still alive, at least," Blaise said, looking entirely unimpressed with Harry's predicament. "For a moment, out on the field, it looked like you weren't." Around him Daphne and Theo shuddered, Tracey became very pale at the memory and Neville's eyes actually welled up a little.
Harry swallowed. Had he died? He knew he technically couldn't unless he wanted to, thanks to being the Master of Death, but Death hadn't actually explained how this type of immortality worked. So, it was possible that he'd kind of died out on the field, but his immortality had kicked in at the last moment, pulling him through and keeping him in the land of the living until his body could heal. And that's probably also why it hadn't worked when he was executed in his previous life. They had chucked him through the veil, body and all, so there was nothing left to keep him alive in. Harry decided this was something he wanted to discuss with Tom at the first opportunity. In fact, he wanted to talk to Tom as soon as possible, period, but now was not the time.
"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, cleared his throat again, and accepted more water from Neville. "Thanks," he told his friend and Neville offered him a small, slightly tremulous smile.
"You're fine now," Theo said, shaking his head. "Thanks to magic and some very talented healers. But you weren't fine before."
"Those Gryffindor monsters bloody well killed you," Tracey all but growled. Her face lit up with a frankly terrifying smile. "But Flint and the rest of the Quidditch team have not taken this lying down, and the rest of our House follows their example. Gryffindor has been bleeding for a week, everyone is making sure of it."
"Was accident," Harry managed to say, though it didn't sound very convincing.
"What if it was an accident?" Daphne said with a stern look. "They just about killed you, Harry, and accident or not, that deserves retribution."
"Yeah," Neville said, surprising Harry. "They seem remorseful, the twins that is, but there are plenty of Gryffindors who thought what happened to you was exactly what a Slytherin deserved." Neville looked deeply disappointed in his own House.
"How long?" Harry managed to ask, since he had no idea what day it was or how long he'd been asleep.
"It's Sunday morning," Blaise said, while Theo added, "You've been asleep for a solid week."
"They wouldn't even let us visit until yesterday," Daphne said, sounding deeply put upon. "They would only let us send you cards." She gestured to the table beside Harry's bed. "Lots of people did, evidently."
Harry turned his head enough to see that indeed, many people had sent him cards, lots of candy as well, even some flowers.
"The worst part is," Theo said with a grave look as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. "That Dumbledore has forbidden you to play Quidditch for the rest of the year. You're not allowed back onto the pitch until next year."
"That's the worst part?" Daphne demanded, turning in her seat to glare at Theo. "Really?"
"Well, it is pretty disappointing," Blaise agreed with a careless shrug. "Not to mention, Draco has been unbearable ever since Dumbledore announced that during dinner last Sunday."
"Ugh," Harry managed to say. That was just what he needed. Draco Malfoy rubbing his smugness all over Harry.
"Yeah," Tracey said with a brief nod. "He's not shut up about it."
Harry's eyes grew heavy again and the last thing he knew was Neville saying, "It's all right, Harry, just get some sleep. We'll be here again this evening."
When he woke up again, he was surrounded by Hufflepuffs.
"Harry!" Hannah said loudly, and then clapped a hand over her mouth while Susan shushed her.
"Mate, it is so good to see you awake," Justin said with the biggest smile Harry had ever seen on his face. "I was convinced you were done for when those twins got you. Magic really is amazing that it could heal you from such a horrible injury."
"Welcome back," Ernie said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "We missed you."
"Hi," Harry said with a sleepy smile.
"You've got chocolate pudding," Hannah said, waving a small bowl in front of Harry's face.
Susan snatched it from her hand and put it on the side table. "Madam Pomfrey dropped off the pudding in case you wanted to try to eat something. But I bet you'll want some water first. Potions always make you thirsty, I find." She poured him a glass of water when Harry nodded and helped him drink.
"Thanks," Harry whispered after he drained the glass. He pushed himself up a little, trying to sit up, and only managed it after Susan helped him adjust the position of his pillow.
"The whole school is at war," Ernie said dramatically, which earned him a snort from Hannah.
"There's no war," Hannah said quickly, cutting Ernie off. "But Slytherin has been taking out their anger on the Gryffindors."
"The Puffs and the Claws are wisely staying out of it," Susan said as she offered Harry the bowl of chocolate pudding. "Here, try to eat something."
Harry managed to eat a bite of pudding, feeling strangely light-headed as he was sitting up. He suspected it was a result from healing his brain and he hoped it wouldn't last very long. One bite of pudding quickly became another and another and in no time Harry emptied the dish.
"I was thinking I might learn Quidditch because I really enjoyed flying," Justin said and then shuddered while staring at his shoes. "But then I saw you get hurt and now I don't think I want to play that game. Ever."
"It's not so bad," Harry started saying, offended on behalf of his favourite sport.
"Yeah, it was," Ernie butted in with a pointed look at Harry. "I love Quidditch as much as the next chap, but this was bad. Oliver Wood told Cedric Diggory it was the worst Quidditch injury Hogwarts has seen for two hundred years. The last time someone got injured worse than this was when a Ravenclaw Chaser crashed back in 1798. Her broomstick's braking charms failed, she flew straight into the ground, snapping her broomstick in half and accidentally impaling herself. She had to have half her organs regrown, including her heart. She barely made it out alive."
"Yes, thank you, Ernie," Susan said disapprovingly. "I'm sure that's exactly what Harry wants to hear right now."
"The bloke just had his whole head regrown, more or less," Hannah added with a bluntness that made Harry grin. "Stop talking about Quidditch injuries." She turned to Harry with an expectant look. "So, did you feel anything during your coma?"
"No," Harry said while Susan slapped Hannah on her arm in a reprimand. "It's fine, Susan. I don't remember much. Some weird dreams. No pain, so that's good."
"As fascinating as it is to listen to Mr Potter recount his near-death experience to his little friends, you are going to have to cut this meeting short," Snape drawled as he all but popped up behind the Hufflepuffs. Justin almost fell out of his chair in shock, while Ernie whipped around and stared up with his mouth opened wide. "I need a few moments alone with my student."
"Of course, Professor," Susan said politely, while Hannah was biting her lip, clearly tempted to ask why but having enough common sense not to antagonize Snape. "We'll visit again soon, Harry."
"Yeah, thanks," Harry said as he watched his friends leave, Hannah lagging just slightly, craning her neck and looking over her shoulder until Susan grabbed her wrist and dragged her along.
The moment they were alone, Snape pulled out his wand and with a flick closed the curtains around Harry's bed. "I'm trusting you have made a full recovery?"
"I think so, yes," Harry said, frowning. Seeing Snape do magic reminded him he had no clue where his own wand was. "My wand?"
Snape opened a drawer in the side table and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his holly wand. He grabbed it and slid it under his pillow. When he looked back up at Snape, the man was holding a very familiar silver mirror in his hand.
"How did you get that?" Harry asked, just a little annoyed. That mirror had been in his locked and warded trunk. If Snape had broken his wards it would take him days setting them back to rights again.
"A house-elf transported your whole trunk to our mutual associate, who cracked it in under five minutes. Nonetheless, he seemed impressed with your wards and replaced them himself." Snape handed Harry the mirror, which he accepted gratefully. "Our mutual associate insisted you receive this and call him the moment you woke up. I can give you five minutes of privacy." And with that, Snape slipped out between the curtains, leaving Harry to stare at the mirror in his hands.
Tom had broken his wards on his trunk? And replaced them? And why the fuck was he thinking about that while the clock was ticking and he could be talking to his soulmate. Harry reached for his wand, cast a few privacy charms on top of the ones Snape had cast, and whispered Tom's name in parseltongue.
Tom answered within ten seconds, looking entirely relieved. "Harry."
Harry stared. "Your face."
"You don't like it?" Tom asked, eyes widening while he bit his lip.
Harry continued staring. "No. I mean, yes. You look good." And he did look good. Slightly different, but good. His black, wavy hair was now a straight, dark-brown. His brown eyes had become a deep, ocean-blue. His jaw was slightly more angular and there was a mole on his left cheek that hadn't been there before. Even his earlobes were different. They'd been attached before and now they were free.
Tom looked different, yes, but still very much like Tom Riddle. Just a different variation of him, like a son who looked a great deal like his father. Exactly what Tom was going for.
Harry finally managed a real smile. "Yeah, you look like your son, so you're good."
"I'm glad you think so," Tom said, smiling brightly for a moment before his face slid into a mask of concern. "But enough about me. Harry, soulmate, don't you dare fucking die on me. Especially not over some stupid game."
Warmth burst throughout Harry's chest as he listened to the worry in Tom's voice. "I think I did. Die, I mean."
"What?" Tom asked quietly, eyes shining with fear.
"I think I died, but that my Master of Death immortality kicked in or something."
"You don't actually know for certain?" Tom asked in disbelief.
"Hey," Harry said while he was stuck somewhere between amusement at Tom's befuddled expression and insulted at Tom's obvious disdain for Harry's ignorance. "It wasn't like Death gave me a brochure or something. I'm basically just winging this whole rebirth thing."
"Merlin, spare me from Gryffindors and their inability to plan even a single thing," Tom said while pinching the bridge of his nose. "But anyway, let's just be glad your immortality did kick in and you're still amongst the living."
"Yeah," Harry said, since he very much agreed with that sentiment. "Oh, just so you know, I spent time in your head, while you called in Snape and sometime later when you were doing some tricky arithmancy for a potion that made no sense to me."
"Good, I'm glad it made no sense to you," Tom said, leaning back in his chair while looking down at Harry over his nose. "Because that was your Christmas present I was working on and it's supposed to be a surprise."
"Oh," Harry said, and at once his whole chest constricted with a sense of panic. He needed to get Tom a Christmas present and he had no idea what to get the man. Still, not the time to let that distract him just now. "What I don't get is why you called in Snape when you have Quirrell here to spy for you."
"Quirrell isn't marked," Tom said with a sigh. "And he doesn't know about us. All Quirrell knows is that I want to keep you alive. So when you were injured and it was announced you'd make a full recovery, Quirrell didn't think this was news he needed to share. I've since made him a communication mirror as well so I can contact him at a moment's notice, not just during pre-arranged meetings."
"Okay, yeah, that makes sense," Harry said, glad to know the answer since that had been bothering him. He realized that the more he looked at Tom's face, the more he started to like it. "You really do look good," he blurted, and felt his cheeks heat.
Tom's eyes, newly blue and everything, crinkled with amusement.
Harry desperately needed a change of subject because he suspected he might be about to make an utter fool of himself if he didn't find something else to talk about. "You can't hurt the twins!"
Tom's eyes, so full of humour just seconds ago, narrowed to cold slits. "I think you'll find that I can."
"No, I mean, yes, you could hurt them, I'm sure you could, but you shouldn't," Harry rambled, not even sure what he wanted to say exactly.
"Give me one reason why I should let those murdering bastards live," Tom all but growled.
Harry's mind drew a blank for a few terrifying moment until finally a thought popped up that Harry could use. "Because in a few years they will start a successful business and if we invest in that business we could make some good money."
"They killed you!" Tom yelled, eyes wide and blazing with fury. "They killed you over some stupid game and you think I would care about making money more than I care about your life?"
"Er..." Harry bit his lip, unsure what he needed to do with that response. The friendship he had with Tom was just so different than any other friendship he'd had before that Tom's words and actions were always throwing him for a loop and Harry had no idea how to go about handling any of the weird feelings that came with it all.
"Mr Potter," Snape's voice sounded from behind the curtain. "Madam Pomfrey is on her way. Best to end your conversation now."
"No, wait," Harry yelled, at Tom or Snape, or maybe both. "Tom, please," he said, but still couldn't articulate what he actually meant to say.
"I will not stand by and do nothing while people kill you, Harry," Tom said, expression one of tightly controlled anger.
"You mean, like you did in your dream just this morning. You kept trying to kill me," Harry said in one breath as the memories of that horrible nightmare flooded his mind.
Tom's face paled while his eyes widened. "What did you say?" he whispered with the kind of deadly calm that preceded an outburst of rage.
"Now, Mr Potter," Snape snarled while he ripped open the curtains. Harry quickly snapped the mirror shut as Madam Pomfrey approached the bed, carrying a tray holding several potions.