XII – Duodecim

… … …

That evening after the Malfoy dinner they dueled. Riddle didn't seem angry by any stretch of the word, but he didn't hold back. He used a number of new spells on Harry, but he was a quick learner. He kept up extremely well, firing off considerably strong spells in quick succession. So caught up in the session was he that he didn't even feel his own fatigue approaching. He had raised his right palm to deflect the next of Riddle's offensives when he swayed on his feet. He paused, to see if the feeling would pass, but before he knew it, he was heading down to his knees.

He didn't hear or feel Riddle cross the empty ballroom, but he did feel his grip on his shoulder before he blacked out completely.

He regained consciousness in Riddle's study, stretched out on an elongated armchair. He didn't notice Riddle himself until he tried to sit up and nearly blacked out again.

"You'll want to lie there just a bit longer. Your body needs a little more time to recuperate."

"From what?"

"Rest first. Talking requires energy too, I imagine."

Harry acquiesced, though reluctantly. Riddle eyed him from his desk, making sure he was complying before scribbling rapidly in his journal. Harry's little faint was as much his fault as it was Harry's. While the admission disgusted him, he had been preoccupied with his thoughts. He hadn't even been keeping track of how long they were dueling. It was a wonder the boy hadn't killed himself with the exertion. Come to think of it, the boy had passed out less than an hour ago - by all accounts he should have been unconscious for at least a day.

It was very apparent to Riddle that the boy's limits were unclear, which made training him a rather foiling task. He couldn't afford to have his prized asset burned out at such a dangerous time. He still had a hard time believing the boy had accepted the situation and was progressing with his experience. With so much raw power to be harnessed and controlled, the possibilities were endless.

The boy's chest rose and fell gently and he rested near the hearth. His eyes were open, a pair of green gems staring blankly at the ceiling. He knew the boy was aware of his gaze - he always was. While it didn't seem to upset him nearly as much as it initially had, it was something that would irk him so long as he was so self- conscious. Another thing to be grown out of. And he would grow - Riddle himself would see to it. Anything it took to nurture that power and claim it for his cause.

It was strange how his priorities had shifted from wanting nothing other than to wipe the boy from existence to making it his personal mission to craft him into the most powerful wizard he could be.

Beneath himself, of course.

They would be completely unstoppable.

The boy coughed lightly and turned over on his side to face the hearth. Riddle set down his quill and approached Harry. He felt his forehead, rubbing his thumb over the scar without even realizing it. Harry's body shuddered lightly but he continued to stare at the flickering hearth.

"Will you tell me what happened now?"

Impatience. He remembered being sixteen and very impatient.

"I suppose, if you haven't figured it out. You exhausted yourself. Your power is restoring itself."

"There's got to be some way to feel it ebbing or something. I didn't even realize I was tired until I hit the floor."

"You have to be more aware of yourself. Keep in mind the strength of the spells you're casting. It is easy to lose yourself in a duel. The violence can be...intoxicating."

Harry stiffened. Violence? He didn't consider himself a violent person. But the pull was there as he hurled and blocked those spells. He wanted to keep going, and would have if his collapse hadn't prevented him from doing so. Merlin, had he always been this way? He didn't recall feeling that way in the dueling club. Or did he? What was happening to him?

Riddle watched the warring expressions on Harry's face. So the concept wasn't going down so smoothly. That was to be expected. He wondered if Harry would accept the side of himself that most pretended didn't exist in 'good wizards'. The thrill of casting magic for survival was natural, as it had always been for Riddle. It didn't make one good or bad, but that just wasn't an option in wizardry today, was it?

Harry sat up, and succeeded this time with minimal difficulty. The expression on his face was difficult to place.

"I won't let you make me into a killer, Tom."

Ah, the verdict…

"Make? Who says I'll have to make you do anything?"

There was a seedy silence, one Riddle took a risk in breaking.

"Are you under the impression that someone made me take lives? We make ourselves, Harry."

He looked down at Harry with a slightly dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I have enough 'killers' who enjoy what they do. If you think dueling alone will make you into one, you've cause for a serious self evaluation."

Bright eyes narrowed a fraction. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything except that there are parts of yourself long ignored or shunned for one reason or another. I won't have you blaming myself or any other for them being there to begin with."

"I'm not addicted to violence. I've never felt that way during a duel before you started training me. If I happen to find it suspicious, you'll have to bear with me," he ground out icily.

"No. You never felt that way before because you've never dueled without counting on a wooden stick to do most of the work. Now the magic is flowing directly from you, and you're hungry for more. I have absolutely no control over that."

After a moment of silent scrutiny, Harry stood gingerly, and made his way toward the door.

"If you can not accept it Harry, we will not be able to continue."

The door closed with a soft click.

((chapter division!))

Snape had been finalizing lesson plans for the upcoming year when the Mark made him drop his quill.

It was time.

With any luck, the potion would still be active and Harry could be safely brought back before the Dark Lord even realized what was happening. Snape prayed the meeting didn't mean he had been found out. Or worse, Lucius selling out on him.

No. One could only be positive in a time like this, or risk making critical errors.

He donned the robe and mask, deeply hoping it would be the last time.

((chapter division!))

Harry slept through most of the night, albeit fitfully, waking multiple times feeling restless and unsettled. By the time he actually achieved a sound sleep, it was the early hours of morning and he ended up sleeping all the way through the next afternoon. He didn't care if Riddle had something for him to do or not - he was exhausted, mentally and physically. Besides, he needed to organize his thoughts.

Perhaps Riddle was right; he may have been this way all along and just didn't realize it. After all, magic did feel very different without a wand, like pulling something from deeper within yourself than ever before. It was quite possible that doing so tapped into emotions and feelings buried just as deeply.

If that was the case, he had to be extra careful when practicing without his wand. If he were to lose himself completely, there was no telling what he'd do to himself or whoever was around for that matter. Then again, what if that was Riddle's intention? Like Slytherin said, Riddle was obviously training him for a reason. What if that reason was to kill? Riddle could certainly be lying about 'having enough killers'. Besides, what was the point of having killers he obviously couldn't trust?

There was a 'pop' and a small cloud of smoke at the foot of his bed.

"Wodie?"

"Master Potter should get up now. It is time for Potter's dinner."

"Dinner? What time is it?"

"It is nearly six o'clock. Potter has slept too long."

Ignoring the last bit, Harry reached out to sense Riddle, surprised to feel the presence of over a dozen others. He must have called a gathering, though six o'clock seemed a bit early for that.

"I'll be a few minutes."

While not completely satisfied, Wodie disappeared again as Harry headed for the shower. Fresh clothes had been laid out again, he dawned them without even noticing they weren't green this time. He devoured his dinner alone in the same dinning room Riddle often lectured him in over meals. He found himself wondering what was going on with the gathering. He could feel the familiar auras - Malfoy's was of course prominent. After his meal he decided to take a walk. Perhaps being closer to the ballroom would help him sense the others.

It was when he reached the stairs that he thought he felt something. It wasn't really a presence but a feeling... coming from the cellar. Thinking perhaps it was the portrait again, Harry headed for the stone hallway stopping when the 'feeling' hit him with greater strength. Something was really wrong.

He hesitated, not knowing if he should call Tom or go look for himself. If it was nothing and he got Riddle, the latter wouldn't be too happy. But if it was serious....

He found himself heading down the stairs wishing he'd brought his wand just in case. The cellar door was open a crack and there were soft shuffling noises coming from inside. He took another step and there was a 'whoosh' behind him that nearly startled him into falling down the remaining stairs. The robed figure grabbed his hand and pulled out a coffee mug. A port-key.

"T-Tonks?"

"Come on. We'll explain later!"

Before he could protest she activated the port-key and they disappeared from the mansion.

… … …

"You were right, Albus. I feared we'd never see him alive again."

"Yes, but Severus' fate remains to be seen."

"Maybe we should have waited a bit more before getting the boy…at least till Severus was on his way out?"

"This was his decision and I have great faith in him, Minerva."

The voices quieted as they came to the door of the hospital wing. Harry sat on the edge of one of the beds as the Headmaster and Professor McGonagal approached him with solemn faces. Madame Pomfrey emerged from a room in the back, but it was the headmaster that spoke first.

"Poppy has informed me that your health is surprisingly fine, Harry. How do you feel?"

Like I was nearly snatched out of my skin.

"Ok, I think. How did you find me?"

"Well, that was mostly Severus' doing, though it was Nimphadora who was actually sent to get you. The details can be imparted later, after you've rested."

"I'm not tired. Just…tell me what's going on."

All three adults exchanged brief glances before the Headmaster answered.

"Alright. If you'll excuse us, Minerva, Poppy…Harry and I will have a talk."

They both offered the boy a smile.

"It is good to have you back, Mr. Potter."

Alone with the headmaster, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. Riddle's aura was so slight he could barely detect it from within Hogwarts' walls.

"Before I explain any further, I'll need to know that you're really alright. You've spent the past few weeks in the presence of Lord Voldemort. I imagine it has taken a toll on you."

Harry wasn't sure what the headmaster was expecting to hear, but if anything, he wasn't about to explain his arrangement with the Dark Lord – not yet.

"It was, an interesting experience."

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to tell me, Harry?"

He trained his eyes on his shoes, watching them swing to and fro with an air of detachment.

"What has Snape told you so far?"

"Professor Snape has only expressed a concern for Voldemort's treatment of you."

I'll just bet he did….

"You don't have to tell anything you do not wish to. But I am here to help you, as always Harry."

Like when he kidnapped me to begin with….

Harry nodded, trying to come up with something without imparting too much of his experiences.

"He didn't hurt me that much, if that is what you mean. He liked just having me around to fuel his ego, I guess. I wasn't allowed to leave, of course. But he was pretty busy with other things most of the time."

Like training me to be the most powerful wizard my age.

"Ah, well it is very fortunate he was preoccupied, then. Is there anything you'd like to know, Harry?"

"How you...well, how Tonks was able to use a port-key inside the manor."

"Ah, that was a bit of a difficult matter. Do you recall Severus' administering a potion?"

"Yes."

"It was part of a spell known as the Sangui Semitor. It is a blood spell."

Harry nearly choked on the last part.

"You used a blood spell? Was it my blood?" he asked incredulously. Last he knew, blood spells were considered dark magic. Somehow Dumbledore and dark magic just didn't sit well.

"Yes. It was from a Quidditch injury, believe it or not. I was afraid it wouldn't be fresh enough for the spell, but it worked."

Riddle was going to be furious. The whimsical response only furthered his feeling of unease.

"So, what about To...the Dark Lord? He's going to retaliate, right?"

"You won't have to worry about that, Harry. You're back at Hogwarts now, and soon Voldemort will cease to exist."

"…What?"

"That is all I'll say on the matter for now. It's a bit early to be sure, but I want you to concentrate on nothing but rest." The Headmaster patted his shoulder lightly. "You've done extremely well, Harry."

For some reason, coming from the headmaster, the words made him feel ill. But he nodded, and watched the older wizard turn to leave.

"The houselves are preparing your room, I'll let you know when its ready for you to move into."

"Move in?"

"Yes. Your things have already been retrieved from the Dursleys'."

Harry nodded politely as the headmaster left, not quite able to thank him. Tom was obviously in danger, that much was clear. But in what way, he wasn't sure. If only Dumbledore had been more specific.

And why was he all but planning an intervention?

Slow down Harry. Time to think.

He laid back, stretching across the bed so that his legs and arms dangled off either side. He needed to make up his mind, that was the most pertinent. He would either rejoin his original cause by staying here at the school, learning 'good' wand magic…

Merlin, my wand is still at the manor…

…or do something about Riddle by contacting him or finding a way to him. He could barely sense him here, which was a problem if he needed to actually speak to him. Harry suspected it had something to do with the score of protective spells guarding the place. Which meant he might just have to get outside of the wards to try anything.

He massaged his temples, trying to formulate some sort of plan of action. He remained that way for no longer than a few minutes before the scar on his forehead erupted in pain. Through his blinded thoughts he knew this pain – it was the pain of anger and something he literally hadn't felt in weeks.

The pain continued, preventing any true coherent thought, though he could feel Riddle through their connection. He thought he would faint before it stopped, or in this case dull significantly. It didn't seem to completely go away this time.

Harry was panting feverishly by the time he could think again. He couldn't recall the Dark Lord ever being so angry. The force of it seized his entire body and made him realize its intensity. There was no doubt he had discovered Harry's absence. Whether or not he knew Harry had little to do with it was another matter, but the fact remained that he was genuinely pissed.

"Tom?" he tried furtively.

There was no response, not that Harry knew what he would have said.

He felt uneasy now with the knowledge that Snape was still there and could be found out. An anger like that was a dangerous thing, and in Snape's case, would not spell mercy. But then, there was Dumbledore's plan that he seemed to think would be the end of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps Snape wasn't in as much danger as he thought.

As he lay there waiting to be taken to his room, Harry wished with all his might that he could just press a button and pause the war like a muggle video.

… … …

'"Would you mind informing the boy that his room is prepared and ready now, Poppy?

"Of course. But I think there's something I should tell you."

Dumbledore waited expectantly, taking note of the medi-wizard's solemnity.

"There was one thing I noticed when examining Mr. Potter. His ear.''

"What about his ear?"

"I noticed there was a piece of jewlery there, a new development as far as I'm aware. And it seemed to be emitting…dark magic."

"Are you certain?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded, looking very worried at the idea herself.

"And that's not all. I asked him if he wanted me to remove it right away and he told me not to….said that it wasn't bothering him. Normally I would have pressed the issue, but given the situation..."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"I see. Go on and let him know the room is ready. I'll keep this in mind in the mean time."

She nodded, rounding the bend to the hospital wing.

Harry, I've always had great faith in you.

The portraits watched him silently as he turned to his office.

End Part One

A.N: I get the feeling this story is going to end up being way longer than I intended. You've all been very patient considering how sporadic my updates are. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying it, and thank you for reviewing. Which reminds me….

"Blah…" isn't a review - it's a sound (I think), and will be treated as such. If you aren't enjoying the fic and feel like saying so, do that. And politely explain why. Critique is how authors improve which is why I welcome ALL reviews. Otherwise, don't bother.

BD

p.s: I tried to fix the inter-chapter divisions (between Snape's p.o.v. and Harry's). doesn't seem to recognize asterisks anymore, or any other symbol that can divide text, so I've resorted to just typing 'chapter division'. Srry if that kills the story mood, i'm sorta out of ideas. If you want to read the visually pleasing version of my fic its up at www restrictedsection org , where i can actually slap the NC-17 rating on it. (tried to insert a smiley but ffnet zapped that too....)