Opening Notes:

Remember: These first few chapters are mostly preliminary to the main story. Hopefully what is drawn out, isn't too unbearable. We will soon spiral into super non-canon, to eventually fall back into our beloved Magical Britain.

Is it truly necessary to let you guys know, that italicized dialog is Parseltongue?

I own nothing.

The Assimilation of Being

Chapter 2

Harry's stomach dropped. Whatever hate he felt for the former Headmaster, was quickly replaced with distress.

He watched as Tom Riddle casually made his way towards Dumbledore, levitating the contents within the dead man's robes. Even though he couldn't see well due to the shadows cast by the fire, it appeared as though a few items had floated upwards, only to be snatched up within Riddle's free hand. Once pocketed, Harry watched in apprehension, as Tom guided the dead headmaster closer, toward the edge of the island.

The body tumbled lazily until its legs submerged within the dark water. Tom left the body as it was, and searched the rest of the island.

Harry was rooted to the spot, watching him, as his mind worked excruciatingly slow to understand his new situation. It just didn't make sense. How had the soul piece been released?

He thought of the Diary in the Chamber of Secrets, and how it had manipulated Ginny. It took an entire year until it had the power to become semi-solid. Yet… there it— he was, real-looking and as dangerous as a Basilisk at a child's birthday party… in a cave.

And there was this nagging in the back of his head, that there was far more to this than he could fathom. Something felt terribly off about the situation, and he couldn't understand why. Maybe, he was losing his mind?

His thoughts were cut short by a great lurch in the water.

Defiled, mucky hands reached up from the pool and latched onto the arms, torso and robes of Albus Dumbledore. The body was pulled closer, inching rigidly. Last, Harry watched, as two more hands gripped the dead headmaster's face, effectively plunging it below the surface.

Within seconds the pool stilled, and Albus Dumbledore could no longer be seen within the dark waters.

It was odd that he wasn't very upset by the observation. He supposed that he had in fact killed Dumbledore in a flurry of fear and anger, so there didn't seem much reason to mourn. Yes, he was still mad at the situation Dumbledore had placed him in, but hopefully he wouldn't have to worry about it any longer. With Dumbledore gone, he couldn't shape Harry's life… or death.

Then again, here was the Dark Lord incarnate, he supposed, who may turn on him at any moment.

"Close your mouth and straighten your back. I won't have you look like a fool any longer." Harry jolted up at the voice. He hadn't noticed Tom standing so closely in front of him. "Take these." He held out a hand, which contained a wand, something he vaguely recognized, and the locket.

"You're still underage, so the wand should prove useful in the event that we become compromised."

"We? What makes you think I plan to stay anywhere near you?" Harry looked at Tom incredulously, but Tom in return merely curled his lips. Leaning forward, he replied lightly:

"What makes you think you have a choice? That I have a choice?" He tilted his head, mirth growing within his eyes. "Haven't you realized?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Riddle shoved the objects into Harry's gut. He stumbled to catch them in time. "We've outstayed our welcome here," Riddle said matter-of-factly while turning away. "Get in the boat. We shall discuss particulars later."

Harry wanted nothing more than to back away. Back away and refuse to do anything that Tom Riddle thought he ought to do. But then, he'd have to figure out how to get over the lake on his own. And had this little thought in the back of his head that Riddle might force him if he didn't.

So Harry stuffed the contents into his pockets and staggered forward towards the boat, to an expectant Tom Riddle. Taking one last look at the island, it was as though he had never stepped foot on it. The Dumbledore's fire was long gone. The eerie glow from the basin was all that stirred.

He wasn't sure how to execute a conversation with Riddle. Not so much that he wasn't sure what to say, but in those few minutes over the lake, Riddle seemed to take a peculiar interest in himself.

Harry observed in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. Tom Riddle's hands gently moved through his hair, down his nose, around his jaw and to his lips… then down his chest, groin, legs, and knees.

He eyed his hands curiously, speaking mildly to himself:

"It almost feels tangible. I can sense a mild pressure, yet… the full experience is just out of my grasp." He looked up at Harry, considering him. Harry watched him in return, with raised eyebrows.

Tom abruptly moved forward, snatching Harry's wrist, pulling it back towards himself. Harry let out a gasp, as he tried to pull back, but Riddle's grip was too harsh.

Then, in an almost evocative manner, Riddle began to massage his pulse.

"Odd. How is it that I can detect the sensation of your skin, but now my own?" Harry tried to wrench his arm away, but Riddle used equal force to keep it in place.

"You're hurting me—"

Riddle ignored the statement.

"Tell me… what does this feel like?"

Without further warning, Tom Riddle provoked one of the strangest sensations Harry had ever been submitted to. Riddle held his palm upwards, open, as he slid an index finger up and down the center.

A shiver ran through his body, due to Riddle's stroking. Harry tried to pull away again.

"What does it feel like, Potter."

"It feels weird! Stop it already!" But Riddle continued without any inclination of Harry's discomfort.

"Wrong answer. What does it feel like? Skin touching skin?

"Yeah— I can feel your finger on me!"

"Skin or merely pressure?"

"I can feel the pressure of your finger on my hand! It feels like skin—STOP IT!"

He dug his nail into Harry's palm, just before releasing his hold.

Harry jerked back. He held his wrist gingerly, shooting a quick glare at Riddle. It was for nothing, as Riddle had already returned to examining himself.

He supposed it wasn't all that strange, after all. Of course, being a shard of a soul, anchored to an object was nothing but unsettling.

Then again, Tom Riddle's interest in his own body made sense; he had been locked away for only Merlin knows how long. Could a soul piece remember having a body?

"You're taking all of this surprisingly well."

"Yeah? Well I don't wanna die, and you're not giving me a lot of room to say or do anything."

"No?" He looked up from his hands, features settled in cool amusement. "Were the revelations this evening… metamorphic?" Riddle asked.

Harry was very much dissatisfied and unamused. It hadn't occurred to him that the young Dark Lord would settle for invading his privacy, over cursing or killing him. Riddle had hardly scorned him; not once cursed him. In fact, if 'civil' were a term in Riddle's dictionary that would be precisely what he has been, thus far.

All of this… was incredibly unexpected. Harry was resolute in his shock.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he hadn't felt like his normal self since touching the locket. Of course, Riddle seemed to know why, but was refusing to explain any further.

He added Riddle's obvious legilimency and his own shifting attitude, to the long list of questions he had for the other.

Burying his head within his crossed arms, he responded sullenly: "I don't know. I'm not sure how to respond to any of this…"

Riddle adjusted his posture. He looked beyond Harry.

"Fair enough." He said blandly.

The two remained silent for the rest of the distance.

Once it was over, Harry stood up with unsteady knees.

As they made their way towards the open world, a new thought caught his attention: He was going back to Hogwarts without Albus Dumbledore. He had murdered Albus Dumbledore, not even an hour previous… would he be able to pull this off?

He had honestly expected to argue with Riddle over returning to Hogwarts. It seemed perfectly reasonable, that the other would whisk him away to murder him. Surprisingly, no comment was offered, as though Riddle had already known and understood what Harry had planned on doing. He was fairly sure that the other was skimming his thoughts but wasn't able to comment on it just yet.

There was a moment of relief, when he thought that Riddle had disapparated, finally leaving Harry on his own.

But then he came to an upsetting realization. Not even moments after Riddle disappeared, Harry began to feel invaded. Riddle was either telling the truth about their attachment, or he was just a bastard after all.

His first thought screamed 'Imperious!' Then 'Possession!' There wasn't enough time to react, before he felt himself being yanked by the navel.

To his disappointment, Riddle reappeared moments after Harry had remerged in one of the many dark alleyways at Hogsmeade. As his usual, he had to push down the desire to capsize. Riddle managed to unknowingly assist with that, when he successfully startled the younger one. Harry could head the monotone voice, loud and clear, as if it were in his very own head.

"Possession. No. Although I daresay I've encouraged your actions, thus far."

There is was again. That subtle invasion of his privacy. "How long have you been reading my—"

Riddle held up a warning hand, and Harry grimaced. Again, Riddle cut him off. He was growing ever more annoyed with the other.

"I told you. We shall discuss everything later. We are being watched."

Harry eyed Tom Riddle's hand with contempt, but did not dare move it. Harry looked over to the street, and understood who Riddle was referencing. Some ways down, there appeared to be a woman looking from her left to right, wand out and moving steadily in their direction. But this was Hogsmeade! She was probably just searching for her cat, or a trinket she dropped. Regardless, she didn't look threatening. At all.

He let out a breath of air. "Look, I'm getting really tired of this. I'm trying to understand, but every time I begin to speak—"

Tom's hand shot out and gripped Harry's throat lightly, just enough to startle. He hadn't even bothered to look at him. "Do you truly know nothing about restraint?"

Harry angrily swatted his hand away. "Restraint! You aren't telling me anything useful - you refuse to go away - what the hell do you want from me! I can't get two words in, before you interrupt me - and just because you haven't tried to curse me yet, doesn't mean that I'm just going to blindly follow every word… "

Damn him! Riddle had left Harry behind. He was strolling up the main street towards a woman, casting a great black shadow in his wake. The lamp posts appeared to dim upon his arrival. Yet surprisingly, the woman appeared unafraid, even eager, as she sped up to meet Riddle in the middle.

Harry stood where he was in the dark alley, straining to hear the exchange.

"Potter? Harry Potter? Is that you?" Tom had stopped walking. He stood a few feet away from the woman. She whispered in frantic breaths. "Is it you? Where is the Headmaster Dumbledore? I heard you had left with him this evening!"

What? Harry's heart began to pound against his ribcage. Did everyone know that he left with Dumbledore?

"Madam… Rosmerta, correct? You would be the lovely and enchanting owner of the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He knew the young Tom Riddle had a knack for flattery, but Harry was lost as to why it was needed right now. He had to get back to the castle, and hiding in an alley while Riddle schmoozed was unbearable. He'd be happy to leave the creep behind.

Rosmerta lost her composure for a few moments, while she simply stared at Riddle blankly. "Oh uh… why yes, yes I am… but uh, the Headmaster… where is the Headmaster?"

Tom brought his hands together at his lower torso. He held his newly acquired wand as if in prayer. He beamed at the elder witch.

"Well, if I remember correctly… to be honest it's a rather uproarious story. Would you like to hear it?" Tom slowly stepped forward, until he peered down at the short woman. She was undoubtedly flustered by the gesture, and appeared to battle with an internal conflict.

Harry was finished. He reared himself out of the alley, and briskly strode toward the two. Riddle didn't bother to turn his head.

Madam Rosmerta gasped as he approached, turning to focus on Harry instead.

"Potter? Harry Potter? Is that you?"

Harry stopped dead in his path.

"Is it you? Where is the Headmaster Dumbledore? I heard you had left with him this evening!"

He approached slowly now, to stand a small ways away from Riddle. Peering forward, he was able to catch a glint of light, which illuminated the cloudy look of Madam Rosmerta's eyes.

Harry choked on whatever he had planned to say.

"So. Rosmerta. Would you like to know what happened to Albus Dumbledore?"

Rosmerta responded, dreamily. Her vacant eyes still lingering on the true Harry Potter. This was madness. "Oh yes… will he be coming in soon?"

Harry could only stare in horror. He wondered if Riddle had done this to her, and if not, how long had she been in this state?

Tom continued in a whisper, a teasing pleasure seeping through his words:

"You see, Harry Potter here, uncovered that Albus Dumbledore was secretly orchestrating to have him killed. So Potter murdered him. The old man is currently lying at the bottom of a lake."

Madam Rosmerta's façade dropped. She took one step back, inching for a wand that should have been in her pocket.

Harry hissed "Why are you doing this?" Riddle batted the comment away.

"So, darling Rosmerta… I'm terribly sorry to the one to inform you. Dumbledore won't be able to make it this evening."

Rosmerta took off towards The Three Broomsticks.

Riddle laughed as Harry took off in a sprint after her.

A/N: Choose someone you trust, and ask them to shake your hand. Once they do, use one of your fingers to tickle the inside of their palm. It's one of the most innocent, yet violating sensations.