Time passed more slowly without Tom's companionship. He didn't dream about his doppelganger for a long time, and wondered whether that had anything to do with the fact Quirrell, and thereby Voldemort was no longer there. Even the books in the library couldn't distract Harry from his loneliness.
On the third day since the blonde wizard had taken Tom's diary, Harry gathered all his resolve and entered the secret chamber. He believed Tom that it could be dangerous to use another wizard's wand, but he'd be careful. He just couldn't stand this waiting any longer. There was of course the diamond patterned snake, but if he were quiet… It had slept for so long; there was no reason for it to wake now.
The hidden door opened easily and the room was just like Harry remembered it. Square, bare but for the table against one wall upon which Harry had found journal, ink, and quill. And there was the wand. The diamond scaled snake was still coiled up in one of the corners and Harry tiptoed past it, careful not to make any sounds or walk too heavily. He reached the bench and he could feel the magic radiating off the wand; slowly he reached out to pick it up.
Just before his fingers could touch it, just before his hands closed around the slim piece of wood, there was suddenly the sound of scales sliding against each other and an irate hissing. Harry spun around with his heart beating in his throat.
The white snake had uncoiled itself and had now reared itself up so that its head was at the same height as Harry's. While he could only guess at its size while it was still dormant, now he could see that it was at least twelve feet long and two fists thick at its broadest point. Its eyes were red and burning and staring straight at Harry unblinkingly.
"Intruder," it hissed. "That is my Master's wand. You shall not touch it!"
"Don't bite me! I promise not to touch the wand! It's just, Tom's gone, and now I'm all alone, and I don't know what else to do!" Harry knew he was babbling but couldn't stop himself in the face of the enormous, obviously enraged, talking snake. However, his reaction seemed to surprise, and calm, the snake. It settled down, backed away a little, all the while regarding him with its crimson coloured eyes.
"You speak my language and you know my Master."
Harry looked at the snake in confusion. "What do you mean? Who is your Master?"
"My Master is the greatest wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort. He lets you call him Tom?"
"Do you mean Tom Riddle? He's my friend."
The snake started slithering toward Harry, moved around him while Harry kept himself as still as possible as his eyes tracked the snake's every move.
"Yes, you must be his friend if he lets you call him Tom. All others must address my Master as Lord Voldemort, only his closest may call him Tom. And only I may call him Thomas." The snake seemed extremely pleased with this last privilege. It was also forcing Harry toward the room's exit, forcing him out into the bedroom and away from what was apparently Tom Riddle's wand. With a flick of its tail it closed the hidden door behind it and Harry found himself backed against the edge of his bed.
"So, my Master has finally returned. I knew he would. Where is Thomas?"
"Um, he's not here, or well, his journal was taken to Hogwarts."
"What do you mean?" The snake looked at him suspiciously and Harry clambered backwards onto the bed to keep his distance. "What are you doing here?" It followed him onto the bed and now Harry was backed up against the headboard with nowhere else to go. He nervously wet his lips and his eyes darted about futilely looking for a way to escape as he hastily told the snake how he had come to be in Riddle Mansion. When he had finished the snake nodded (as far as a snake can do such a thing), and coiled around itself thoughtfully.
"I see. Thomas told you to stay here, he told you not to touch his wand?"
"He did, but…"
"Then you should not touch his wand! You will stay away from it and not try again!"
His mouth dry all Harry could do was nod. The snake nodded seemingly satisfied and moved its scales against each other.
"Good. My name is Nagini, what is yours? If we are to wait for Thomas together we may as well know each others name."
"Harry, my name is Harry. Harry Potter."
Something seemed to flash briefly over Nagini's face, but was gone before Harry could decipher its meaning.
"Very well, Harry, pleased to meet you. You said Thomas helped you with your studies. I know I am no wizard, but I have been Thomas' companion for many years and I have learnt a little in that time. Maybe I can help you? We can keep each other company while we wait for Thomas to return.
"But first, I am absolutely ravenous." She noticed the look of terror that appeared on Harry's face and erupted in a hissing laughter. "Do not worry, while you look to be a tasty little morsel," Nagini's forked tongue flicked the air in front of Harry, "I have been asleep for a long time and must start with something small. Let's go down to the kitchens and eat."
Nagini proved to be good company, and although it took a little while to get used to the presence of a twelve foot long, obviously venomous snake that could talk, Harry was glad that he'd disobeyed Tom and tried to take his wand: he was no longer alone. It was good to be able to talk to someone, not just correspond through writing; even if that someone was a snake.
Now that he had learnt what exactly the connection between Voldemort and Tom Riddle was, Harry was left with even more questions. He had been abducted by a wizard named Quirrell who was apparently possessed by the spirit of Voldemort, the future self of Tom Riddle. He knew that Quirrell had committed suicide to prevent Voldemort from getting his hands on the stone Harry's doppelganger had retrieved for him; Tom had seemed convinced that this did not mean that Voldemort had been killed as well. While Nagini was prepared to speak about 'Thomas' and how they had met, she proved tight lipped when conversation veered to topics relating to why Voldemort might want to possess another wizard and lock Harry away in Riddle Mansion.
"If Thomas called you his friend, then you need not worry. He will care for you, he will return to us as soon as he can."
Time passed. Harry studied all the Potions texts he could find, read about the Goblin Wars of 1276, about the magical theory behind spells, and looked up Potions ingredients in Herbology tomes. Nagini would coil herself around his chair and rest her head on his lap for him to stroke the soft scales. She slept with him in his bed, saying that it was Thomas' bed and that she had always slept in it as well, and he would wake up with her half-wrapped around him. For a snake she was surprisingly warm and it only took a short time for Harry to get used to the sound of her scales sliding against each other, a soft lullaby that would ease him into sleep.
He still had the occasional dream of his doppelganger at Hogwarts, but they were mostly brief and happened when Wormtail was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with his friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and Ron Weasley's younger sister Ginny. Harry always awoke from those dreams with a feeling of envy. That was supposed to be his life; those were supposed to be his friends. But then he'd talk to Nagini, and immerse himself in the library books, and it wouldn't hurt as much, and together the two of them waited for Tom to return.
*~*
Harry was dreaming.
He dreamt he was rushing through a tunnel, at the end of which was an open doorway. Then he was standing at the entranceway of a large chamber. Carved serpent pillars held up the ceiling, and there was an enormous statue of a bearded man against one of the walls. What caught his attention, however, was the body of a red-headed girl lying on the floor, next to her lay a leather-bound journal, and standing over her was a dark haired young man. His face had an aristocratic bearing to it, and he had bright green eyes, the same green as Harry's own.
In the corner of his eyes Harry thought he saw something moving, he imagined he heard the scraping of scales on stone, and he resolutely kept his eyes on the two people in front of him. At the sound of Harry's foot steps the young man looked up and those green eyes bored into him.
Harry's mouth went dry and he quickly fell to his knees.
"My – My Lord?"
An amused smirk graced the boy's lips, and he nodded.
"Yes, I am Lord Voldemort. And you would be Wormtail, also known as Peter Pettigrew. Are you not?"
"Yes – Yes, I am, my Lord. I live to serve you."
Voldemort returned his attention to the red-headed girl with a brief nod. Her long red hair lay around her head like an angel's aureole, her eyes were closed, and her skin had an ashen tint to it. Harry could only just discern that she was breathing very slowly and very shallowly.
"She's – Ginny's not dead, she's still alive?" he asked anxiously.
"The girl is still alive."
"You're not – You're not going to kill her, are you? You don't need to – you said you were strong enough, that you didn't need to. Please, my Lord, spare her, I beg you."
Voldemort looked back at Harry in
amusement. "You want me to spare this girl for you? Hmmm.
Very well. I suppose I may have another use for her later. She will
live. And this way you will have something to show that fool Dumbledore, it
should help keep his trust and allay his suspicions."
"Thank you, my lord, thank you!"
"Yes, yes. Stop snivelling," Voldemort glanced at the girl and held out his hand imperiously. "Give me your wand."
Harry fumbled in his robes and held out his wand for Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord took it, looked at it in disdain, and knelt next to Ginny. He took her left arm and pressed the tip of Harry's wand against the inside of her wrist.
"Morsmordre."
The red-headed girl moaned, a grimace of pain fleeting over her face, but she didn't wake up. Under the wand's tip the skin blackened to form a skull with a snake for its tongue. Afterwards Voldemort picked up the journal lying next to the girl's still form and tucked it in his robes. He turned around to Harry and motioned for Harry to pick the girl up.
"Take her to Dumbledore, say you escaped before I could kill her." He looked at the wand he was holding in his hand and after a moment threw it to Harry who clumsily caught it. "I'd hurry if I were you. I am going to send my pet after you; he will create a diversion so that I may leave Hogwarts."
Harry gulped and quickly picked Ginny up after pocketing his wand. He tried not to look into the shadows, tried to ignore the sound of scales moving closer.
The amused smirk returned to Voldemort's lips, and he made a shooing motion with one of his hands. "Run along, and whatever you do, don't look back." Then he turned toward the shadows and started to hiss commands to a long dark form hidden there.
Harry clutched Ginny in his arms and ran, cursing the day he had ever sworn his loyalty to the monster that was Lord Voldemort. Behind him he heard the basilisk start its pursuit.
*~*
Harry woke up, his heart still pounding. Nagini grumbled at the disruption of her sleep, but quickly released him from her embrace when she saw the look on his face.
"Did you dream again?"
Harry nodded and quickly told Nagini what had happened. By the time he'd finished describing his dream she was moving excitedly around the bed, and as soon as he was done she slithered off it toward the door.
"He is returning! Thomas will be here soon!"
Harry watched her leave the room and bit his lip. Tom would be back soon, of that Harry had no doubt. He had to admit that he was nervous. Tom was, after all, Lord Voldemort. Harry still hadn't gotten used to the idea that his friend from the diary was the Dark Lord in the papers; or at least a younger version of him.
Pondering his sudden ambivalence and hesitation toward his friend, Harry showered first before slowly making his way to the entrance hall. He could hear Nagini slithering about, hissing Tom's name impatiently, and couldn't help himself from grinning at her behaviour.
Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he was still hidden in the shadows, there was that distinct 'popping' sound and two figures appeared in the hall below: sixteen year-old Tom Riddle and the blonde-haired wizard who had taken Tom's journal earlier. Nagini sped to the black-haired, green-eyed youth and wrapped herself around his legs, slithered up his body, while she called his name.
"Thomas!"
Tom laughed and gripped her neck, halting the affectionate rubs against his face.
"And you must be Nagini; Lucius told me about you."
She stopped and looked at him in puzzlement. He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he carefully extracted himself from her coils.
"I'll explain all to you in a minute." As he said this he looked up and straight at Harry who was still standing in the shadows, with a minute shake of his head he indicated for Harry to stay out of sight. He turned toward the blonde wizard.
"If you would wait here a moment, Lucius, I will retrieve my wand."
The wizard, Lucius, inclined his head. "As you wish, my Lord."
As Tom bounded up the stairs, Nagini on his heels, Harry suddenly understood Nagini's excitement. Tom was home!
"Come with me, we need to talk," Tom whispered as he strode past Harry toward the bedroom. With a glance back at the wizard who was examining his surroundings but had still not noticed him, Harry quickly followed Tom.
When he reached his bedroom the door to the secret chamber was open and Tom was walking back out into the room with his wand held lovingly in his left hand. He caught Harry's eye and with a brief flick of his wrist sent a black and red shower of sparks streaming from the tip of his wand. Tom sat down on the bed, Nagini slithered up onto it and around his shoulders, and Tom indicated for Harry to join him.
Tom looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, stroking Nagini, and then shook his head as if to clear it of troublesome thoughts.
"See, I promised you I'd be back." He pressed another kiss to Nagini's flat head and she hissed her satisfaction at the statement. "But I am afraid I am going to have to ask you another favour, I am going to have to ask you to be patient for just a little while longer. For although I have returned and although I once more have a corporal body, I am not whole. This is my sixteen year-old self, and thus I only have the memories I had when I created the journal and the knowledge that I have come by since you found it.
"I will be leaving with Lucius now, but it shouldn't be for long. And when I return I promise you, your trust in me will be richly rewarded."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but after a glance at the blissful Nagini and Tom's smile he nodded.
"Okay."
"That's my Harry!" Tom once more extracted himself from Nagini, stroking her
soothingly, and he reached out to touch Harry's face but dropped his hand at
the last moment.
"I promise I won't be gone long, I'll be back before you know it and then things will really change around here."
With a last stroke along Nagini's scaled body Tom strode out of the room; Nagini and Harry followed him to the entrance hall, Harry remaining hidden in the shadows and out of the wizard Lucius' sight.
The two wizards stood next to each other and pointed their wands at themselves.
"Apparate Black Forest," and they disappeared with identical 'pops'.
*~*
Harry awoke to Nagini leaving the bed. He groggily pushed himself up and made a grab for his glasses.
"What's going on?"
"He's back! Thomas has returned!"
At this Harry too jumped out of bed and hastily pulled one of Tom's robes over his night shirt. He padded on bare feet after Nagini, through the hallway and down the stairs. It had only been maybe two weeks since Tom had returned to retrieve his wand, nothing compared to the months that had probably passed when the wizard Lucius took the journal from the Mansion.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked the excited snake but he could already see their destination. The door to the dungeons – or the cellar – was open and now light burnt in brackets against the staircase wall. Harry only hesitated a moment before following Nagini down the winding, stone hewn stairs.
The temperature dropped and Harry shivered, wishing he'd had the presence of mind to at least pull on some socks. Ahead of him he could hear Nagini's excited hissing and Tom's voice as well, although he couldn't make out the words. His step faltered as the gradual burning sensation in the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead increased.
The staircase ended and Harry's breath caught at the sight of the space in front of him. The Potions Laboratory was filled with light and the doors to the cupboards were open. Ingredients lay strewn about the various tables. Harry's mouth went dry; the sight of all those cauldrons, jars with ingredients, knives, everything a Potions Master could want, no longer locked away in storage but actually being used momentarily distracted him from the pain in his forehead.
He finally noticed Tom standing by one of the benches, stirring in a cauldron as he affectionately stroked Nagini's scales. There were ingredients spread out around him, Harry recognized most of them from his studies, recognized most of them to be dangerous poisons, nightshade, hemlock, aconite, belladonna. He also couldn't help noticing the human skull, and the severed finger, left ring-finger, still bloody, lying there as well. Not once pausing the steady figure eight he was stirring through the potion, Tom looked up and pinned Harry with his gaze.
"Ah, Harry Potter. So good of you to join me."
Unlike the last time he had seen Tom Riddle in the flesh, unlike the times Harry had entered the journal and spoken with the memory of Tom Riddle, unlike those times Tom's eyes were no longer green but a burning crimson that reminded Harry of the wizard Quirrell. The pain in his scar flamed to life and Harry fought to stay upright, to meet that gaze.
"Voldemort," he managed to whisper and an evil smile transformed that handsome face for a moment before it quickly lost some of its malevolence as the eyes became more green than red.
"No need to be so formal, Harry. To you I will always be Tom. You are my friend after all, my most trusted and best friend, are you not?"
Harry could only nod, and when Tom gestured at the stool to Tom's left he quickly seated himself. Tom returned his attention to the bubbling content of the small cauldron.
"I have always been moderately skilled at potion making, no Master by far, but this potion I should at least be able to accomplish," he looked up and his eyes showed only the barest tint of red, his tone just as it had been in the journal. "Do you still enjoy reading the Potions texts in my library, have you been studying them?"
Harry nodded and once again his gaze quickly travelled over the laboratory. He'd been down here often enough over the past two years, but never had it felt so alive, felt like a real laboratory. It was perfect, the wet dream of any Potions Master; although Harry had no practical experience he could see that. It made his hands itch like never before to take up a knife, to take up a ladle, a cauldron, and join Tom. Tom smiled at Harry's longing look and picked up the skull beside him.
"Bone of the father," he said, turning it round in his hands before carefully letting it sink into the potion. There was a sizzle and the potion turned white as the bone dissolved. "You've been reading my books; do you recognize this particular potion?" There was an indulgent look on Tom's face, his tone was encouraging, as it had always been when they discussed magic and Tom taught him as much as he could from the diary. Harry looked at the left-over ingredients strewn around the table, tried to remember what potions called for flesh and bone. It could only be a dark potion with ingredients such as that, and a number of possibilities flitted across Harry's mind.
"A restorative draught?" he hazarded a guess, and the proud look on Tom's face made Harry grin, the pain in his scar temporarily forgotten.
"In a fashion. Well done, Harry."
Those green eyes flashed crimson red again as Tom picked up the severed finger. "Flesh of a faithful servant, willingly given," he whispered as he added it to the potion and continued stirring the now dark blue liquid.
"At Hogwarts I was able to regain a body for my sixteen year-old self, a re-incarnation of the Tom Riddle of fifty years ago, if you will. But what of my future self, of the great Lord Voldemort? I was not yet whole, I was missing my destiny, missing a great part of myself, my power, my memories.
"Quirrell was merely a vessel, an unfaithful one at that. I possessed him and would have been restored by the power of the Philosopher's Stone had it not been for his cowardice and treachery. So I sought myself out, and now share this body. I am complete, but not whole. This potion will restore us; it will restore the great Lord Voldemort to his full power and none shall stand in my way."
Tom looked aside at Harry and the scar on his forehead burned. Harry didn't know whether to be afraid, didn't know what to think. This was Tom, this was his friend; but this was also the dark wizard Lord Voldemort, the wizard who had abducted him more than a year ago and abandoned him here.
"And I have you to thank for my current situation, Harry Potter. All of it." Tom paused and the red in his eyes faded a little. "Is your scar troubling you, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "It burns."
"Never mind," Tom said and he looked back into the potion he was still stirring. "This will solve all our problems."
They sat and stood there in silence for a while. The potion bubbled, the fire beneath the cauldron crackled, and the rustling sound of Nagini's scales as she contentedly moved around Tom's legs.
"It only needs one more ingredient to be finished," Tom said suddenly, and his eyes were bright green, his voice soothing. "The blood of a… true friend." He looked up to meet Harry's gaze.
Harry bit his lip and found his eyes drawn to the ornate knife lying on the table; he looked back up at Tom.
"Mine?"
Tom nodded. "You are my best friend, Harry. If I am to be honest, the only real friend I have ever had. Will you help me? Will you do this one last thing for me?"
Harry hesitated, torn between his willingness to indeed help his friend, and his fear for the unknown factor of Lord Voldemort who obviously possessed Tom's body as well.
"I know I have asked much of you, Harry, have tested your faith in me many times with little to no reward from my side. But I promise you, do this for me and you will be rewarded beyond your dreams. I can give you your heart's desire. I know you, as you know me. You are my friend, Harry. Please. Trust me."
What to do? Should he refuse Tom? It was clear that Voldemort was a part of Tom, and while Harry trusted Tom not to harm him, he had no such certainty regarding the Dark Lord. And if he refused, would Tom, would Voldemort, take his blood regardless? He had said nothing to the effect that it had to be given willingly. Harry knew from his extensive reading that many dark spells thrived on violence and violation.
Harry looked at Nagini; she trusted Tom, trusted Voldemort. Her crimson eyes were also staring at him, seemed to be telling him to trust Tom. And he wanted to. Tom was his friend, his best friend, the only friend he had ever had. While he did not know whether he would not have been better off at Hogwarts, the truth was that in his own way Voldemort had saved him from the Dursleys; he had given him a home and a friend and taught him magic.
With a deep breath Harry stood up and purposely ignored the increased burning in his scar. He joined Tom next to the bubbling cauldron and picked up the knife. Tom was his friend, and he trusted Tom.
The smile that graced Tom's features encouraged Harry that he was doing the right thing. Tom took a step aside, Harry noticed that he was taking care not to touch him, and let Harry bring his arm above the brewing potion as he gripped the knife in his right hand. It shook slightly as he pressed the blade against his arm. He pulled the razor sharp edge across his skin and a red line appeared.
"Not too deep," Tom seemed to whisper in his ear, voice raspy with anticipation. "A little is enough."
Mesmerised Harry watched the blood pool down his arm and drop into the potion that turned a deep red as Tom continued to stir it. Harry stepped back, carefully placing the bloody knife on the table. He gripped his bleeding arm as he watched Tom wave his wand above the potion and speak a cooling spell. Nagini slithered to Harry as he dropped to his knees, coiled herself around him in comfort, hissing in his ear reassurances that all would be well, everything would be all right.
The two of them seemingly forgotten, Tom ladled the potion into a chalice and lifted it almost reverently, staring at it with avarice in his red-tinted green eyes. He took a deep breath and then brought the chalice to his lips, tilted it and gulped the potion down in one go. Harry could see Tom's throat working as he swallowed. The cup fell from Tom's hand and he groped at the table for support, missing it and doubling over, coughing, retching. Alarm filled Harry, he made to move to his friend's side but Nagini stopped him.
A stabbing pain exploded in Harry's head, emanating from the lightning bolt scar, and there was a stretching sensation, as if a link he had previously only been vaguely aware of was pulled tight, was stretched and twisted. The pain escalated, and Harry escaped into blissful nothingness.
*~*
"Hush, my dear Harry, don't say a word, Papa's going to buy you a golden bird."
A hand gently tracing the lines of his face, the lines of his scar. The warmth of a body against his, arms holding him, his head resting against the person's chest. The slow slide of snake scales against his skin, embracing both him and the other holding him.
"And if that Quidditch snitch won't zoom, Papa's going to buy you a wizard's broom," sang a soft voice in his ear, whispered it, intimately, lovingly. It soothed the headache that was quickly disappearing; it made him shiver and forget the pain in his limbs.
Harry opened his eyes and looked up into eyes that were green and flecked with crimson. Tom's smile became even wider, even more affectionate, and he gently pressed a kiss against the scar on Harry's forehead. Harry felt those moist lips against his skin, his eyes fluttered closed again.
"And if that flying broom won't go faster, Papa's going to get you a Potions Master," Tom whispered in his ear, promised him, and Harry was lulled back to sleep by the gentle caresses and that soft smooth voice.