Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

Chapter Five

Tom

The next morning promised to be another warm, sunny day. The sky flickered diffferent shades of blue, ranging from royal to peacock, while the clouds puffed silently along on whatever invisible tracks carried them. Harry had, against his better judgment, deployed his occlumantic shields against his feelings for Kittie, letting his emotions drain into the mental equivalent of a moat around his mind's ramparts, stirring them into a fierce torrent that was indistinct from any of the other emotions that his memories were bound to conjure up. In a daze, he tidied up the mess left behind from last night's patrons.

While relaxing and polishing a set of wine glasses, quite possibly the ones he and Kittie had used last night, he took a moment to gaze out the large floor to ceiling windows that made up the front wall of the establishment. His gaze fell on the building across the street that he had almost entered that first day he had shown up in this strange place. There had been something odd about it. Something which he couldn't quite place. It was as though that one building did not quite belong in this world, and he got the distinct feeling that it might have been a relic of the main world that this one failed to disguise. Unlike just about every other thing in this place, which shimmered violently bright colours, that one building remained fixed to a set of dark browns, greys and blacks. Occasionally, he thought he saw dark red or purple stain the side walls, but he could never be sure. That, however, hadn't troubled him so much about the building. There was something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Harry, with a flick of his hand, levitated the glasses to the overhead rack and carefully slotted them into their holsters. He found that this sort of delicate work, when done wandless, was much more taxing than throwing jinxes and curses wandlessly. Wands tended to focus magic and give the wizard much more control, he had learned, and so using raw energy tended to be less predictable. However, Harry was planning to fix that. It wouldn't do to be useless without his wand. He was always getting in dangerous situations, and he needed a few aces up his sleeve.

Idly polishing another glass, Harry continued to stare out the windows. Absently, he flicked a finger in the direction of a nearby table, effectively cleaning it with the Scourgifying Charm. He then attempted summoning a snake , which, to his surprise, oozed out of his hand like something out of a monster movie. It swiveled its head to gaze up at Harry, its body still in the process of extricating itself from his skin. Where does magic and the body meet? he mused.

"Hello," said the snake.

"Hi," harry said back. He put the snake on the counter top and continued cleaning dishes.

"why am I here?" it asked.

Because I was bored and wanted something to talk to, Harry thought. He didn't say this aloud, however, because he wasn't sure how much snakes knew. Was this even a real snake? It seemed to be, and he suddenly wondered why he had never given this question much thought. "That is a difficult question to answer," harry hissed. "Let me ask you first. Where did you come from?"

The snake tilted its head as if in thought. Finally, after several seconds, it returned its gaze to Harry and said. "I came from oblivion. You summoned me to serve you, and so I will."

'That's interesting," harry said. "Is it your choice to serve me?"

"You summoned me, so I will serve."

"But what if I just let you go and wander about? Where will you go? Do you need food?"

"I do not need or want any of those things. I do not deal in questions. I will simply return to oblivion after a time."

""I would rather you stay."

"And so I will stay. I will stay, and you will command me."

Harry shook his head. "I have no commands for you at the moment. But I would like to learn more about things."

"You are commanding me to teach you... things."

Harry shrugged. If the snake wanted to see it that way, that was fine by Harry. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"And what things would you like to learn?"

"Teach me about magic."

"There are many things about magic I can teach you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Do you know any interesting spells?"

The snake cocked its head again, contemplating the question. "What is a spell?" it asked.

"Well," Harry began, not quite sure how to begin. He began wondering about what spells were, and discovered that he couldn't put together much of a description. It reminded him of when Snape had asked what ghosts are, in sixth year DADA. "Spells are what wizards cast when they do magic. If I want to cause a glass to rise into the air with magic, I have to say these words and flick my wand like this." Harry demonstrated. "Or I cast a spell to bring you here from oblivion."

"I understand. A spell is a manifestation of magic. Hmm, interesting. Do you always need those sticks to perform magic?" the snake asked.

"Well, no. But it's more difficult. I conjured you without using a stick, but it's the first time I've done it."

"Magic is a powerful force. It is an energy that swirls around us and through us all the time. With it, you can do anything. But it is difficult to control. To bend it to your will takes great strength and discipline."

""Can you bend it to your will?" Harry asked.

"I can. I use it to see through all the falsehoods in the world. My gaze is piercing. I destroy weaker beings with magic. I break their minds, make them fear me and through that I control and I destroy."

"Oh."

"I also heal. My venom can kill, but it can also protect. It is a matter of what I will it to do."

"Your venom can heal?" Harry asked. "Like a phoenix?"

"Like a phoenix, indeed. But not as powerful."

"How do you know about phoenixes?" Harry asked. "Are there phoenixes in oblivion?"

"Oblivion is a place where all knowledge and magic resides. It is a terrible place. Vast and incomprehensible. When I return to it, what I have done here will be absorbed into that dark chasm and when you call me again, I will return, though it will not be me. It will be another snake, and it will have my memories along with the collected memories of that vast place.""Wait a second," Harry said. "Are you telling me that you're a walking, talking super-encyclopedia?"

The snake nodded. "You can see me that way."

"So do you know any cool spells?" Harry asked again. "Can you teach me about magic so that I will be stronger and more formidable against my enemies?"

"I can."

"Great. Let's start."

The snake fixed it's yellow eyes on Harry for a moment and then, without any warning, Harry felt a horrible pain like knives cutting clean through his skull from all different directions. He cried out and fell to his knees, moaning. "Stop, please, stop Whatever you're-"

The pain cut away, leaving only ghostly trails of that brief horror. It had been like a cross between the Cruciatus and Snape's Legilimantic attacks. "What, what - was that?" Harry managed, rubbing his temples and getting to his feet. Unconsciously, he took a step back and braced himself for flight should something similar occur. Not that he was at all confident he could escape such a horrible wrath.

Before the snake could answer, however, it whipped its head to one side and gazed fixedly out the window. Harry folllowed its line of sight, aware dimly of what the snake was going to focus its attention on before he got there with his own eyes. The building.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I see through falsehoods," said the snake.

"Right."

"And what falsehoods are you seeing through?" Harry ventured.

"It protects itself," hissed the snake. "It protects itself from the weaker ones. Soon it will feed. It will eat the week, it will ravage them for pleasure and it will break bounds unlike any that have been broken before. It cometh like a tide and all that is living tissue and organ will be swept away through its red wrath."

His eyes locked on the vision of that dark tower, Harry tried to make sense of the snake's words. Falsehoods, the weak, the red wrath. None of it sounded very appealing. And so, it was in that moment that Harry realized what was so terribly wrong with that building; what it was that made it different from all the others. The street people who passed it by constantly were avoiding it silently and unconsciously. There was a wider gap between them and the building as though there were a barrier that ran around the perimeter repelling unwanted attention. The passerbys didn't seem to notice either, which led Harry to one chilling conclusion. "It can't be," He whispered. "No, no no."

But it seemed strangely obvious now, as though he should have understood before. There was a muggle repulsion ward on the building. It was keeping people's eyes off it and was therefore creating the same illusion of abandonment that obscured the Leaky Cauldron from view. And if there was a repulsion charm in effect, that meant there were wizards in there. And if there could be wizards in there, then there could be wizards anywhere. And he was a very recognizable wizard. Which means I could have enemies here I don't know about. Harry absently fingered his wand.

"Go," Harry said. "Return to oblivion."

The snake nodded and disappeared into that dark abyss from which it had come. Harry threw a few more clenaing charms around just for good measure and then strode out of the Red Cherry, his thoughts bent upon one destination and one destination alone.

The building seemed even less inviting when he got right up to it than when he was looking at it from afar. He had expected that the cracked windows and peeled paint were part of the glamour that hid the true visage of the building from the passerbys, much like the wards on the Leaky Cauldron, but instead, these signs of decay seemed to intensify the closer he got. Unmistakably, however, Harry was acutely aware of the point at which he cross the threshold over the enchantments. They were particularly strong, like the ones that had been on the stadium at the World Cup in the summer before his fourth year. When Harry looked back out over the streets, he felt a tinge of sorrow for all the street people who drifted by, completely oblivious to this feat of magic right in front of them; a feat which gently nudged them out of its path for anyone who happened to be too close to it. It's like they're being guided by forces they can't understand. Harry wondered if perhaps it was time to feed the International Wizarding Secrecy Statute through a paper shredder.

With that thought, Harry went inside. All told, the building was rather ordinary. It had electrical equipment, like lights, and the front office had a desk with papers and a computer on it. In addition, there were other mundane things like a wastebasket and a kitchenette. He went to the wastebasket first, excited to see that there were a number of papers in it. Flipping through, Harry recognized a few documents to be invoices - the company had billed for a slew of office supplies from a distributor he hadn't heard of - not that that was very significant, since Harry doubted he could name a single distributor or retailer of office supplies in all of Britain. Remember, you're not in Britain though. What would a magically enchanted facility be doing looking like a muggle building and using and ordering muggle supplies? Maybe the building was in fact quite ordinary and the muggles who ran it simply had a wizard protect themselves from unwanted guests. That made Harry wonder if certain muggles could be insulated from muggle repulsion charms and other such things. He supposed there had to be countercharms to let parents of Muggle-borns into Diagon Alley or other wizarding places. Possibly even wizarding homes. Harry smiled at the thought of The Graingers having a cup of tea with the Weasleys.

As Harry flipped through the various documents, he became more and more irritated in his search for what the company actually sold. It appeared they were involved in international trade of various kinds - he could tell from the lists of invoices and orders and even from a series of Minutes in a cabinet that there were about fifty different products that were organized across four broad classifications. However, everything was numbered, making it difficult for him to identify what the substance of the transactions actually were. He even had the names of the directors, but none of them were familiar. He had hoped that, given the minority of pureblood family names in wizarding Britain that there would be one he recognized - not that he wanted to see the Malfoy name or some other such nonsense in the file, but at least it would have given him a reference point from which to analyze the material. Harry considered turning on the computer, but realized quickly that there was little point. Even if it weren't password protected, he was hopeless with the things, not ever having had time to try one out over the summer.

Harry decided to move on and see what else there was in the building. Possibly, it was one of those office buildings where there were a large number of completely unconnected companies and so there would be no point figuring out what each one did. Harry doubted that, however, because the repulsion charm encompassed the entire building, which would make it difficult to have a large number of muggles using it. Unless it were entirely wizard staffed, he mused. A whole army of wizards dealing with muggles for profit. He supposed the idea was not unthinkable. In fact, it downright made sense, given that wizards could do all kinds of things in the muggle world to gain an advantage over muggle competitors. The only thing that stopped them was their disdain for all things muggle. Harry couldn't quite picture Lucius Malfoy in a business suit. But then again, he really only knew a persona of Malfoy. He doubted that pureblood bigotry would extend to profit-making. In fact, Harry could even fancy a rationale about how wizards had the right to control muggle industries, and use that power over muggles. Maybe that's where multinationals come from, Harry thought. They don't have allegiances to any particular government, because they exist outside muggle government structures. It suddenly made a lot of sense, and harry felt a chill run down his spine. Is that what they were doing?

Harry suddenly stopped and began looking around. He had been walking without thinking and realized he was in a narrow hallway that was both dimly lit and painted in red and brown streaks across the walls. To make matters worse, the cloying smell of copper was in the air. That's blood, he thought, narrowing his eyes. Dammit. Harry cast about for a way out. You shouldn't be here alone. It's dangerous.

Suddenly, the last of the lights fizzled out of existence with one last puff of bright light, a suckling sound ensuing like that of dementors. Harry whipped out his wand and peered about in the gloom. Damn, he thought frantically, conjuring a blue bell flame to hold in his hands. The light it emitted wasn't much, but he couldn't afford to have his wand occupied with producing light if he needed it for defence.

There was a thick hissing sound from ahead of him, and he realized that, whatever it was, it had gotten between him and the way out. Harry chanced a spell, hoping that it might disarm the creature before it got too close. "Petrificus totalis," he whispered, directing the thin shaft of white light into the darkness. The hissing sound transformed into something that Harry could only describe as scaly. It was like a clucking of several muffled chickens. Harry began taking steps backward, edging along the wall, dimly aware that fresh blood was soaking into his shirt. What the hell is it? he wondered. Maybe it's a vampire, like before. No, it would have pounced, and certainly wouldn't have caused all this blood to spray on the walls. That would be like throwing away a perfectly good steak.

Harry let out a little start as he bumped against the far wall. Aware that he had found the door, he fumbled with his flame, trying to free his hand long enough to open the door. After a moment of little success, he threw the flame several feet ahead of him, where it landed on the ground, continuing to emit its eerie blue light. With the flame now further from him, Harry could make out the obsidian eyes of the creature that was stalking him. Harry gulped, aware that whatever it was, it was really big and really hideous. He fumbled the door open and fell backwards through it, having only enough presence of mind to aim his wand and say, "Caliportis." The door swung shut, but it did not quite make it. A claw wound its way around the door, struggling to gain purchase enough to push through the doorway. The door, on the other hand, was struggling to close as Harry commanded it. The claw, to Harry's dismay was a mix of dark red and black patches that were intertwined in snake like patterns. Instead of having fur, it seemed to have some sort of chunky flesh that made Harry think of enormous swollen pimples, or possibly, if he were imaginative enough, a human body that had been turned inside out from depressurization.

Shaking himself free of these thoughts, Harry jumped to his feet and made a quick assessment of his surroundings. Nondescript stairwell. He could go down or he could go up. He decided that it was probably safer not to get blocked off in an underground room. Windows could at least give him a fighting chance to escape. With that, Harry dashed upstairs. When he reached the second floor, he heard the distinct crash of the door below him, clearly having been ripped off its hinges. A long, mournful sound issued from down below and then the distinctive thudding sounds of something making its way up the stairs. Harry yanked open the door, dashed through it, locked it and then beat it as fast as he could down the main hall, which, thankfully, was lit. If I can make it to the end of the hall, he thought, I can probably find a large window overlooking the main street. A quick banishing charm and I can maybe conjure some ropes to slide down or just jump and use a cushioning charm. Harry made it to the door at the end of the hall and, without thinking, gave it a swift kick to blow it open. This, however, did not have the intended effect. Not even rattling, the door remained perfectly still, causing Harry to double back and wince from the impact. He then aimed his wand and said, "Allohamora." Nothing. Harry scowled. Good grief, what's wrong with it? Harry tried again to no effect. The scent of something acrid was starting to fill his nostrils. it was thickening around him like a blanket of fog. "I don't have time for this," he muttered. Aiming his wand yet again, he said, "Reducto."

Again, nothing.

Harry pursed his lips in contemplation, some part of him in the back of his mind wishing that Hermione were there to tell him the answer. Everything felt so suddenly rushed. He was losing time, and the stench of whatever that creature was was thickening about him, suffocating him, making the feeling of the blood pounding in his veins more salient in his mind. "Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!" Harry watched the sharp beams of light flow from his wand and strike the large wooden door with absolutely no result.

There was a large thump against the door at the far end of the corridor that caused Harry to jump. when he turned back, he saw one red-black claw jutting through the center of the door, wood chips scattering to the floor from the multitude of cracks that had formed in it. Harry instinctively ran his hand through his mussed hair and tried to keen from his environment something useful. The hall was lined with doors to either side, but, if his mental map was correct, they wouldn't be flush with the outer wall of the building, which meant that he would be effectively blocking himself into a dead end, assuming he could open any of them anyway. Never mind that, he thought, absently brushing sweat from his forehead as he concentrated on constructing a plan. Just open one and see where it takes you. Maybe you could fortify the door or blow a hole through the wall or something. With that thought, Harry ran to the nearest door with an office number on it - he didn't want to waste his time opening the door to a broom closet. He then grasped the door handle and checked to see if it were locked. It was. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the sound of the door being obliterated, Harry pointed his wand and said, "Allohamora." there was an audible click, which caused Harry to let outt a breath he didn't know he was holding. He threw the door open and ran into it, closing and locking it behind him without looking back. Again, the sound of that long mournful wailing filled the hall. And then he heard the distinct crack of something banging forcefully against the door. Whatever it was, it crossed the hall pretty damned fast, Harry thought distractedly. He glanced about the room and saw to his dismay that it was an ordinary office devoid of any windows. He aimed a reductor curse at the far wall, causing a few cracks and splinters, but nothing significant enough to focus his attention on. Instead, he spied what looked like a door peeking out from behind a large filing cabinet. Oh, please let it be that, he thought. Mustering up all his energy, he levitated the filing cabinet and glided it toward the front door, hoping it would act as a sufficient obstacle for whatever was in the hall. Just as the cabinet came to rest, there was another violent smashing sound and Harry saw dust and wood chips flying out to either side of the cabinet. The cabinet itself, though rocking back and forth, did not fall over. That'll only hold you for about three seconds, he thought and then resolved to concentrate on the doorway. "allohamora," he whispered, causing the door to open inward. Harry dashed through it and locked it yet again to buy him yet more precious seconds. In the other room, Harry could hear the cabinet come crashing down and as the creature discovered that Harry had maneuvered himself yet again out of harm's way, issued another wail.

The room was again an office, and was, like the last one, lit by red emergency lights. Where do they get their electricity in this world? Hary wondered briefly, before shaking off the thought and heading toward the exit. There was another loud crash behind him as the creature made its way through its next obstacle. Opening the door yet again, harry threw himself through the door and back out into the hallway. He then locked the door yet again, heard the wail of the strange creature and dismissed it as he dashed down the corridor towards what he hoped was freedom. He was barely aware of the rotten smell anymore or of the bloody mucus that clung to the ground and walls of the building, the remnants of the creature's passage. Harry stopped at the stairwell, staring in disbelief at the steps leading downward. There was a noxious fume rising from where the mucus was sitting and for the moment, Harry stood gobsmacked as he took in the sight of the crud that was everywhere - including his shoes. Soon, he discovered, that his shoes were starting to smoke and that there was a sensation working its way toward the skin on his feet. Acting on instinct, Harry vanished his shoes and socks and made a leap for the next few stairs upward, where his skin was free of the toxic substance. Glancing about he saw for the first time the creature that had been dogging him. It now stood in the hallway, its giant, protuberant white and black eyes fixing themselves on him. Harry's first thought was that it looked nothing like any creature he had ever seen before. In fact, it looked downright nnatural, its skin a conflagration of swollen wet tissues and bulging veins all condensed into an indistinct mask that was a hunched over biped. It's face took up most of its body with its eyes being the size of saucers. It let out that same foghorn wail, only this time, Harry could sense something triumphant in its voice that he seriosly didn't like. Harry aimed his wand and cast the only thing that came to mind - the conjunctivitis curse. The creature had already bolted for him and covered half the distance when it was struck square in its large face. The creature careened to a halt and began to thrash about in the hallway. Harry watched fascinated for several moments as it hurled bits of itself like shed skin all over the walls. As the creature seemed to compose itself, Harry refocused his attention and began railing off every spell he could think of. The incendiary spell the blasting hex, the banishing hex, the vanishing charm, the full body bind, the balding hex, the incarceration hex, and the stunning curse. finally, he tried the jelly-legs jinx. Alone, each spell seemed to do nothing. The incendary spell caused merely a small burn while many of the others seemed to only distract it, annoy it, or slow it down fractionally. Together though, the creature seemed dizzy or nauseous even. Harry watched it gurgle and stagger about before finally vomiting up something the smell of which was truly unspeakable. Harry decided enough wass enough and raced up the flight of steps toward the next floor. He wasn't sure he wanted to try the hallway, fully aware of how useless the last floor had been. But where should he go? Without giving it too much thought, Harry decided he would aim for going directly to the top and from there he could perhaps find a way out or, alternatively, he would begin assembling an arsenal of every weapon he could come up with and begin raining them down on the creature. If Hermione were here, he thought, she would have no trouble dispatching it. Harry only wished his skills were half as good as hers in transfiguration and charms. Harry's keen ears could tell that the creature had made it to the stairwell, but it was having a difficult time traversing them in its state. Harry wondered if perhaps, oddly enough, the jelly-legs jinx had been the most successful of all the curses. He thought briefly of using the darkest spell he knew and resolved to do so if he could not escape. With that thought, he decided he would stop a moment and conjure some snakes. They might be dead useful in a situation like this. Conjuring three of them, he hissed at them to head downstairs and kill the creature at all costs. They agreed and disappeared downward. Harry was dimly aware that he had made it to the fifth floor before he resumed his trek upwards towards the top floor, which turned out to be the seventh. By the time Harry reached it, he heard the creature crying out again, though this time the wail was more of a bitter shriek. My snakes seem to be doing their job, he thought, satisfied at the prospect of having defeated whatever it was.

Harry yanked open the door and dashed through, briefly taking note that the hallway was a bit wider and that the carpet was a soft plushy material with an intricate patttern of designs. The wood panelling and doors on this floor were a lot darker and polished. The smell of tobacco and scotch and leather were intermingling in the air, and, though Harry didn't understand why, putting his nerves on edge. He suddenly wondered if going to the top floor was such a good idea. After all, that creature was in this building. Maybe it was some kind of ground sentry for something even more sinister that was way up here in the executive offices. Maybe that was why he couldn't get into that second floor door. Maybe it was charmed by a wizard for protection purposes. Harry felt a chill run down his spine as he realized he needed to be much more careful and that whatever lay downstairs, which he no longer knew whether it was alive and still hunting him or not, maybe wasn't the only thing to worry about. Keeping a strong grip on his wand, Harry marshalled all his Gryffindor courage and his Slytherin cunning and stealthed down the hall way to the far door. He tried the handle, and found it to be locked. Okay, he thought. That's not unexpected. All the doors are locked. Harry then cast the unlocking charm and held his breath, praying that the damnable thing would open. It did. Suddenly elated at this prospect and the chance to make it home, Harry dashed through the door, aware only of the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall that shed in voluminous streams of light all over his face. He dashed straight to it and looked down at the figures trundling along below him.

"Almost there," he muttered, issuing a long sigh.

"Almost indeed. But not quite far enough," said another voice somewhere behind and to Harry's left.

Harry whirled about to face this other person - not that he needed to. Something about his voice registered in Harry's mind. Some memory from a time-darkened pit, from a trauma that he would rather soon forget, and which he had forgotten, called back from oblivion by nothing short of his most basic survival intuition. And so, even as Harry turned to face this person, he knew exactly who he would find.

Sitting in a large leather arm chair, swiveling about without a care in the world, a decorative smile on his face, a cigar in one hand, his other tapping an old muggle tune on his mahogany desk, sat none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle. A memory of a man. A young adult with cropped black hair, gleaming black orbs for eyes, handsome in a deceptively gentle sort of way waited patiently for Harry to understand that he was in a seriously precarious position. A fragment of a soul.

"Hi," Harry said, keeping his tone cautious and his face schooled into one of neutrality. Harry wasn't sure how good a legilimans Tom was at this point, but he decided to double and triple check his occlumancy shields just to be safe.

"Have a seat," Tom said, gesturing to one of the chairs that was opposite him on the other side of the desk. Harry's brain was racing about in circles, alarm bells ringing on all floors of consciousness, fires lighting up as memories rioted in his mind's streets. What the fuck? he wondered. Marv? Marv? You little fucking bastard. I'm going to dismember you limb from limb.

"Marv?" Harry asked, tainting his voice with a hint of confusion. He couldn't act entirely confused now - no, too much time had passed.

"Ah, you've met my brother, then," Tom said, continuing to smile. "I do recall seeing you at the Red Cherry. You were with that young lady that lives a block off the main street. Kittie, right?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked slowly.

"I run this place. I am the CEO, you could say."

"The whole building?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded.

"And does that include the monster downstairs?" Harry asked.

"Ah, so you've met one of my little projects. Please do have a seat."

Harry obliged.

"Would you like a drink?" Tom asked. Harry nodded, and Tom stood in one fluid, graceful motion and went to a bar in one corner of the room. He poured what Harry imagined was a very expensive scotch into two ornate goblets. Harry's eyes were drawn to them, and he had to stifle a gasp when he realized that they were not just any cups. They were the cups of Huffelpuff. When he forced his gaze to return to Tom, he realized that Tom had been watching him, albeit discreetly. Let's hope he didn't catch that recognition.

Harry took the proffered cup and feigned sipping it. He wasn't sure if this Tom had access to potions ingredients, but he wasn't all that happy about getting himself inebriated either. He had to maintain his wits, but he also wanted to seem nonchalant, the way Stu had been at their first evening together.

"Perhaps we should start with a round of introductions," Tom said. "My name is Tom."

Harry briefly considered faking his name, but realized quickly that there was no point. If this Tom had heard of Harry Pottter, then he would also invariably know about the scar, and he would have already seen it. Harry tried to check his memory to see if Tom had made that automatic glance to his forehead that he had become so used to recognizing. Even if he did, you wouldn't know, Harry thought. You were too busy gawking at the window and potential freedom. Constant vigilance.

"My name is Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry. So, tell me, what brings you to our neck of the woods."

"Would you believe I got lost?" he said.

"Ah yes, you're referring to the place in general. Many people do seem to get lost, don't they? It's a bit of a problem." Tom turned his attention to the window and seemed to drift off in thought as he pondered. Remember, it may all be an act, Harry told himself. Stay on your guard.

"I assume you're a wizard too," Harry said carefully. Maybe throwing a few bones at Tom as a sign of guarded trust would help you.

Tom licked his lips in hungry anticipation. "Yes, I am. Tell me, what gave it away?"

"I felt the muggle repulsion wards," Harry said. "Thought I would come by and see what it is all about."

"Hmm."

"May I ask what it is you're doing here?" Harry asked, feigning curiosity and interest.

"I've built a business here in the outworld."

"A muggle one at that," Harry mused, trying to hint at disdain in his voice. It wouldn't do to let this Tom think he were a muggle lover.

"Muggles have many uses, I've come to realize. I used to think that they were a waste of space, I must admit. In recent years, having lived with them, I've come to understand that they're disability gives rise to a kind of ingenuity. Tell me, Harry, have you ever been trapped in a bit of a tight spot? Have you ever been cornered like, say, a rat, and had nowhere to go but to fight your way out? Have you had a tough life, Harry?"

"You could say that," Harry began slowly.

"I find that adversity is the test of a wizard. It either breaks you or makes you stronger. If it makes you stronger, then you're the type for whom there is no amount of adversity that could be too much. Your limit is matched only by your own drive to succeed."

Tom really does like to sermonize, Harry mused, and then quickly chastised himself for letting his mind wander.

"You haven't touched your Scotch," Tom said. "Do you fear that I would poison you, Harry?"

"It's nothing personal," Harry said.

"I bet you've been poisoned before. Or maybe there have been attempts. You see, that is what I am talking about. Someone has tried to kill you and it has made you strong. You have, to my surprise, mostly bested my little pet downstairs. Oh, I assure you it's not dead. It has gone off to retreat, and when it returns, it will be stronger than before. I admit I didn't think to strengthen it against curses and charms, because those things aren't here in abundance. It was a bit careless of me, but now you have gone and done it. So it's no matter, really."

"I'm not following. Tell me, why would you have such a thing? Where did it come from?"

Tom waved his question away with a hand. "I hadn't had a specific plan with it. It was more of a biproduct of some of the experiments I was engaging in. For my job you see, is to provide muggle technologies. The work has led into a large research and development arm and that was one tangent. a most unexpected one. We're still trying to understand it. Certainly it's not our intention to just let it loose and muck about these streets. How do you like it at the Red Cherry? Have you met Jack?"

Harry nodded. "Tried to kill me when we first met, actually."

Tom smiled. "I can imagine. Has a bit of a temper, that one. I can't say I ever had personal dealings with him. He's a bit of an oaf at times, and somewhat clumsy, though he has his uses."

"I haven't seen you around," Harry said. "what of Marv? Do you come down and say hello from time to time?"

"Marv and I have an arrangement."

"What kind of an arrangement?"

"I wasn't so careless though, with my office, as I was with my little pet. I knew from the outset that the repulsion charms wouldn't protect me from wizards and that wizards may very well come one day. Dejected wizards, of course, since only those who are weak of mind can enter this place."

"Are you calling me weak of mind? And you, for that matter?"

"No, not me. You, probably. Though I admit I've noticed some things that intrigue me. Actually, they cause me great concern. There are things you're hiding, Harry, and I don't like it. I know you recognized the cups. They're obscure. How do you know them?"

"I don't-"

Tom waved the door closed so that it banged shut and locked with an audible click. Tom's gaze turned hard. "You'll tell me what I want to know."

Okay, Harry thought, the jig is up. With lightning reflexes, Harry pointed his wand and cast the stunning curse. Nothing happened.

Tom laughed. "Silently!" Tom said. "You can cast spells silently. And that is some very competent wand handling, Harry! Bravo!"

"How-?"

"Was it the stunning curse?" he asked. "Or the full body bind? I'm betting it's one of those two. They're always the first you learn and the ones a good defense student would use. They achieve full incapacitation with one stroke. The incarceration hex, the tickling hex, the balding hex, the trip jinx and jelly-legs and all those others can be recovered from. They have very specialized uses in wand dueling. Not that I'm going to go into the ins and outs of them now." Tom let out a long, theatrical sigh. "No, for now, I'll just say that I'm impressed."

"Why can't I use magic?" Harry asked.

"I set up a very complicated ward so that only I can use magic in select offices. Your wand handling is nice and all, but you're still incredibly slow-minded. You should have realized that when you ran up against my ward on the second floor. I knew then a wizard was in the building. I was surprised you showed the cleverness to escape Old Red, and so I held hope for you. Clearly, though, you couldn't muster up the intelligence to figure it out."

"And so you're going to kill me?" Harry asked incredulously. Even from what Harry knew of Tom, he was surprised Tom would use that reasoning.

"Nonsense. I won't kill you. Not yet anyway. First I'm going to leave you to be tortured for awhile and then if you tell me something interesting, I'll consider what to do with you."

"What makes you think I know anything?" Harry asked.

Tom smiled a grandfatherly sort of smile. "We'll find out, won't we? You seemed rather quick to put your wand away. I'm curious about that. You knew I was a wizard. It got me thinking though. It does look rather familiar."

With a wave of his hand, Harry's wand flew to Tom. Tom appraised it. "Not yew," he muttered. "But that is a phoenix feather, is it not?" He gave a swish of the wand, causing black and gold sparks to fly out. "Hmm, black sparks," he said. "gold, pure energy, elemental magics. But, black, black black black." He then turned to Harry. "Does black sparks come out when you use it?"

"No," Harry said. "Red and gold."

Tom nodded. "Of course, you would be rather noble, wouldn't you? worthless use of a wand. I'll have to hold onto it for now and conduct some tests."

It was a testament to the kind of life that Harry had lived that he wasn't finding this experience terribly surreal. And that he wasn't panicking either. Instead, he was trying to figure out just how to get out of his current predicament. But before Harry could come up with anything useful, he found himself whippping about as the door crashed open behind him. Standing in the doorway was none other than Jack, the part-giant from the Red Cherry. Harry, in other circumstances, would have been happy and even thankful to see Jack, but now it just made him terribly uneasy. It was obvious to Harry that Jack was here on Tom's orders and that made Harry wonder how many others his nemesis had under his thumb. An image of Kittie flashed across his mind but Harry dispelled it as quickly as it had come. He wasn't going to think about that, even though some part of his mind was already piecing together a very persuasive story for the facts as he saw them.

The way Tom had spoken of Kittie, the fact that she was a powerful legilimans, the fact that she so conveniently took an interest in him and had continued to pry into his life - no, Harry thought. Don't think about that now. She didn't try to invade your shields. But another part of him, that calculating Slytherin part was already questioning that. He knew that Voldemort could easily read his mind without him knowing. Had she been doing that to him all this time? Perhaps the push to get closer to him emotionally somehow created a hole in his defenses. Let me in, she had said. It had almost become a mantra between the two of them. Focus, Potter, his mind scolded. Worry about that later. So engrossed in his own thoughts was he, that Harry had even stopped paying attention to the conversation that Jack and Tom were now having.

"Excellent, Jack," Tom said. "You may take him away. Use one of the portals. There's no sense in delaying."

"Sure, boss," jack said, and then, to Harry's distress, Jack lifted Harry into the air and tossed him against the far wall, where he thudded painfully and collapsed to the ground.

Harry groaned and looked up, bleary eyed into Jack's ugly mug. "Jack," he managed, "don't, please."

"You're in for a world of hurt, kid," Jack said, smiling evilly. He then proceeded to punt Harry into the wall, which, to Harry's surprise and consternation, was not a wall at all. He sailed cleanly through it, dimly aware of the cracked rib he now had compliments of Jack's foot. Harry managed, despite himself, to cling to consciousness. He found himself in an octagonal room that reminded him of the department of mysteries. Just like that one, there were eight doors. Harry struggled to get to his feet, wincing with each second as pain flooded his body everytime he shifted the muscles in his abdomen. Harry staggered to one door, not caring where it took him and tried to open it. Unfortunately, due to the blood pounding in his head and the attention his ribs were demanding, he did not hear Jack come up behind him. He barely felt Jack put a strong hand on his shoulder and stop him. "Sorry, kid," he said in what sounded like a sympathetic voice. "We're not going through that one." Harry tried to protest, but all that came out was a long, suffering groan followed by a fit of hacking and coughing.

Jack steered Harry to another door - Harry wasn't sure which - and led him through. Harry stumbled and nearly toppled forward, and would have pitched himself head first into a pool of roiling red liquid - is that blood, his mind inquired - but then Jack laid a steady hand on him yet again and said, "Not yet. Nope, we've got to tie you up first. Wouldn't want you dying or going insane or something else, now would we?"

Jack," Harry managed. 'please. Why are you doing this to me?"

"It's nothing personal," Jack said, leaving Harry for a moment to go fetch some rope. "It's the bosses orders. He tells me you're not all what you seem. Don't worry though. I won't kill you. We just needs to be safe's all. Bit of pain never hurt anyone."

Harry would have laughed at the stupidity of Jack's last statement if he weren't in such dire and confusing straits. Maybe I can do magic here," Harry thought. He decided it was worth the effort. Without even bothering to look around to see if there were a door, he aimed his hand at Jack, who was coming back towards him with some rope and whispered, "Sectumsempra." There was a faint flash of light but it fizzled out before it even got to Jack. Whether it was from harry's own exhaustion, or another one of Tom's wards or simply because the spell demanded too much, Harry did not know, nor did he have time to indulge himself in Hermione-esque explanations. Jack seemed to understand what Harry had tried to do and backhanded him hard across the face so that he went careening into the wall, which was more like a cavern wall than something you would find in an office building. Where the hell had he been transported to? I'm going to die here, Harry thought, realizing to his chagrin that in a way, it would be at the hands of Voldemort. Not the Voldemort he had expected, but him nonetheless. You had been lax, Potter, he thought. You were arrogant, you were careless. Just like Snape said. You indulged in how good it felt to run away and this is where it got you. The prophecy was going to find you no matter what. You were silly to think that God had given you a reprieve from your destiny. It was merely a test and you failed. Snape is right this second laughing at you for your weakness.

Harry picked himself off the wall, which now had a sampling of his blood, courtesy of a long, jagged scar along his cheek. He quickly scanned the room in the few seconds he had before Jack tied him up and, taking in the room, realized that it was circular and cavern like with a pit of red liquid in the center. There was a door at the far wall. Harry bolted around the side of the cavern, thankful that he was much more nimble than Jack. He heard Jack's exasperated sigh from somewhere behind him as he reached the door. Without even bothering to check, knowing how precious his time was, he simply whispered the unlocking charm and heard the click. Jack, you're so going to be bloody surprised when I escape. Harry yanked the door open and heard Jack say, "What the-? Harry made to bolt down the hall, but not ever realizing the true strength and speed of a giant, was unprepared for the slick, wet feel of something snakelike wrap around his neck and pull. He was yanked back a step and away from the threshold of the door. There's no way that the brute made it all the way around the room, Harry thought desperately. When he looked down, he saw that he had been lassoed by the rope. He hesitated using the cutting hex in case he did something foolish and slit his own throat. Aim for a little further up the rope, he told himself, and calm down. Do not panic. But before Harry could sever the rope and make his break for freedom, Jack had come to a decision and cut away any chance for Harry to make a decision. Jack pulled on the rope, pitching Harry into the red liquid.

"Boss did warn me you might be a slippery little bugger," Jack was saying as Harry fell. "Well, I guess I can't promise not to kill you now, since you might die before I get a chance to properly pull you out."

And with that, Harry hit the water, aware as each pore on his skin, every fibre, every hair, as it came into contact with the substance, began to scream, sending alarms of pure agony shooting through him, making him want to scream and die and beg for mercy. Only he couldn't, since the liquid was now covering his face and eyelids, and he wondered briefly if it was simply eating through his body. He prayed, strangely enough, that it was and that, when it got to the end, which hopefully was near, the pain would stop and he would be delivered beyond the veil to his mother's waiting arms. God, he whispered silently, please let it stop. Despite the excruciating torture that the liquid wreaked upon his body, he did not open his eyes or his mouth, and he tried desperately not to breathe it in through his nostrils. But he was also aware that he was running out of breath, and that, if he passed out it would be a good thing.

Before he could have any such luck, however, he felt the hard tug of the rope against his throat, which seemed to bring some relief as the rope blocked out part of his skin from being exposed to that horrible red liquid. Before he knew what was happening, his face was out of the water and he was gasping for breath, the pungent smell of his own sweat and of blood and despair filling his mouth with each breath he took. He let a low, garbled moan escape him before he felt himself being submerged yet again. The pain had driven most of his awareness of anything else out of his mind, but he did have enough sense to realize that his second trip under was shorter than the first. Somewhere in the interim, he had been trussed up with ropes so that he could be lifted out of the liquid at will. Somewhere long ago, he had lost his glasses and now could only see Jack as some giant, fuzzy demon-like creature. Harry wanted to beg for mercy, the pain of the liquid still present, only milder as drops of the liquid still clung to his skin. As the pain left, however, and his higher cognitive functions reasserted themselves, Harry became painfully aware that Jack was not his friend. Jack was his torturer and begging for mercy wouldn't do any good.

Still, Harry tried. "Oh, God, Jack, please stop." Even to his own ears, harry found his words to be excessively piteous.

Harry could see Jack shaking his head. "Sorry, kid." With that, Harry was sent under yet again, though he did not know for how long this time. All he knew for sure was that he had soiled himself somewhere in the middle of the pain, and, while he might have cared about such things in some other life or time, he found that it didn't matter to him. The only thing that mattered was the sense of all his nerve endings being lit aflame and doing whatever he could do to stave it off.

After some interminable period of time of having been submerged and released in cycles, it seemed to stop. Harry hardly noticed though. he had lost count of the number of times he had been dipped in the abrasive substance after about the seventh one. Shortly thereafter, he felt his consciousness ebbing away, and had been surprised that he had lasted so long. As he hung limply from the ceiling, a mess of limbs protruding from the network of ropes that Jack had trussed him up in, Harry's ravaged mind flitted from one random thought to the next, many of which he had generated during his pain filled stupor at the hands of Jack. He had cried at one point, he was pretty sure. He thought he might have even begged for his mother to come save him, and for Sirius and maybe even Ron. He had fought for some reason not to cry out Hermione's name or Kittie's either. No, he wasn't going to beg for Kittie.

Harry found it difficult to sleep, which was hardly a surprise, though he had fallen in and out of a doze through the next few hours. His feet had gone numb, and he barely registered the fact that he no longer had a broken rib. The swelling had subsided. Some more hours passed, Harry couldn't tell how many, but after a time he became more alert. His mind seemed to be clearing from the agony that he had endured, and he was starting to understand that whatever it was, it was akin to the cruciatus. It clearly didn't seem to do any physical damage. Quite the opposite. Harry was surprised to discover that, after managing to wrangle himself into a position where he could move his arms relatively freely, he did not have the jagged cut on his face that he had been sporting earlier. The bruises around his ribs had disappeared too. He wanted to believe that maybe it was his own powers fueling the rejuvenation, but he doubted it. Instead, he realized with a sinking feeling that the cruciatus potion, which he had taken to calling the substance below, was probably laced with a restorative draft. Possibly even a revival potion like pepper up. He supposed it was quite an ingenious way to ensure that the victim did not pass out. Snape would have been most proud. It was certainly a concoction worthy of the most sadistic person Harry knew.

Harry discovered that he was actually rather cold. His clothes had been raked to shreds, probably by himself, he realized. He had vague memories of trying to chew through his own wrists to kill himself. It had been a pathetic suicide attempt at best, since mostly he ended up ingesting the potion, which had the horrible side effect of causing immensely more pain as it wound through his system. He didn't, therefore, even have the luxury of screaming or opening his mouth to scream while he was being subjected to it.

How did you manage to get into this mess? he inquired thoughtfully. "Mmm," he muttered. 'Shut up." Harry wasn't sure how healthy it was to talk to his own mind, especially aloud, but he supposed he didn't care. "Let's not dwell on that. We have bigger problems to worry about. Like getting out of here."

Harry cast about, trying to glean some useful tidbit from the walls. he supposed he had enough strength in him to cut the ropes, however, he didn't fancy falling into the liquid down below. He understood now that it wouldn't kill him. In fact, it would probably do the opposite, if it weren't for the pain. What would be lethal would be the fact that he wouldn't be able to muster up the focus enough to swim. You don't even know how to swim, you idiot, he thought to himself. Not that it mattered. It probably wasn't all that far to the edge. He could just make it onto his back. Besides, the liquid's rather thick, so you shouldn't have too much trouble.

Before Harry could act on these thoughts, however, Jack had re-entered the room. He was accompanied by Tom. Harry inwardly groaned. Here came the question period. Harry briefly debated telling Tom everything he knew, but decided very quickly that that would be stupid. Harry also dismissed the possibility of flat out lying to Tom. He'll want to rifle through your mind and you don't have the skill to project fake memories. Harry suddenly wished now more than ever that he had learned stupid occlumancy. You're a useless piece of shit, harry, a voice inside him said.

Tom must have finished surveying jack's handywork, because he now turned to make eye contact with harry. Once Harry managed to do the same, Tom spoke, "I'm here to ask whether you're up for doing a bit of chatting. Perhaps you'd like to talk."

"About what?"

"Whatever catches your fancy, Harry."

Harry had already been prepared for this. he had no qualms at the moment about sticking it to Tom's ego. No, he didn't at all. He didn't bow down to Voldemort in the graveyard at the end of his fourth year, and he certainly wasn't going to now. You can drive me insane like the Longbottoms, harry thought bitterly. That's the only satisfaction you'll get from me.

"Well?" Tom asked, quickly losing patience.

"Tom, your mother's a slut. Go fuck yourself."

It was a testament to how well Harry knew Tom that he managed to recognize the subtle changes to Tom's expression that gave away his pure, unadulterated rage at having his lineage insulted. Harry was certain Tom would ponder whether the insult had merit beyond the usual quips, and was certain that it would plague him. Tom just had to know everything. He will use the cruciatus potion and then, when your mind has been broken like the Longbottoms, he will simply rifle through your memories. Right now though, he's just playing with you. He wants to break you first, as a sign of his ability to control people. He sees breaking you as a kind of prize. Don't disappoint him by giving in. It's the only way you'll manage to garner enough time to get the hell out of here.

And once you're free, you'll show them that-

Harry's musings were cut off as he found himself falling into the red abyss. The pain was terrible. Oddly enough though, it wasn't so terrible that Harry's thoughts were immediately swept away by it. he managed to wonder for a few brief moments why it was that the pain didn't manifest itself in physical damage. He supposed that the same question could be asked about the cruciatus curse as well. And, with that thought, the pain surged forward anew and took hold of every fibre of his being, turning his thoughts into mush as he wondered dimly why he didn't break and just tell Tom everything he wanted to know. Do that, and then Tom will kill you, and through death, you will be blessed with peace. There will be no more body to torture. Do it, Harry. His thoughts swirled about him in a jumble as he kept from crying and soiling himself. Focus on that, he thought. Don't soil yourself. Control at least that while he's here. Do it when he's gone. Don't give him the satisfaction.

When Harry came up again, he saw that Tom was eyeing him smugly. The air was alight with a feeling of cold - a beautiful, numbing coldd that Harry welcomed. It was like putting an ice pack on a swollen bruise. It seemed to take the pain away and leave his thoughts to recuperate. Harry wondered when Tom was going to ask him a question, but it never came. Maybe he can just rifle through your mind now and save himself the trouble. harry supposed that that was probably true, but somehow, he doubted Tom would do that. To his own mind, Tom would think that such an act would be weakness on his part. Tom would do that only to people to whom he didn't feel he had something to prove. Or if Tom was afraid that his position wasn't completely secure. Niether of those things applied here. Tom saw Harry - rightly so - as a worthy adversary, and he was confident that Harry couldn't hurt him. And with that thought, harry restrained himself from casting a spell against Tom. Make Tom feel safe, he told himself. That is vital for the moment. Then, Harry felt himself plunging back into the red darkness. He won't ask you a question, his mind told him. He won't ask now. His ultimate victory will be to break you hwen you're most cognizant. He wants to know he has your complete submission, not just when you're still delerious from the pain. That will be when his feeling of control will be the sweetest.

With these thoughts, Harry was subjected yet again, for an indefinite period of time to the constant barrage of the cruciatus potion. He was dimly aware sometime later that, though he held up longer from soiling himself, which he inevitably did in front of Tom, he lost count after his seventh dip, just like last time. Well, no one said it would be easy, he thought. Still, harry was determined to get it. He supposed that it hadn't even been a day that had passed, despite the number of brief naps he had succumbed to while his mind licked its wounds. It was hard to sleep because, with each exposure to the pain, a peculiar thing started to happen. His body felt more and more refreshed while his mind needed more and more time to recuperate. That's when Harry started to understand that the pain was only in his mind.

You can block it.

Oh, sure. That's easy to say, he thought bitterly. Just block it. Mind over matter and all that rot.

Minutes passed. Minutes turned into hours. Jack came once in a while, subjected Harry to torture sessions and then left. harry tried to keep track of how many times Jack was coming. He supposed it was his best chance at creating a sense of time. Tom seemed to come every two or three times to watch. Harry could tell that Tom enjoyed the pain in only an abstract sense. He didn't enjoy watching people suffer per se. It was more of a need to exert power and pain was simply a necessary instrument to that end. Harry was also aware that he needed to play yet another game. Tom was no fool. Tom seemed to recognize the time lapse between the start of the pain and the release of Harry's bowels as related to Harry's will. You can't show that you're getting stronger. You have to give him signs that you're slowly breaking. And so, with that, harry began to file and catalogue in his mind's eye all the external shows of pain that would signal a slowly crumbling defense against the onslaught of torture that Tom was exerting. All the while, inside, Harry had to maintain constant vigilance in the way he ordered his thoughts and managed to focus his attention when the pain came. Sometimes, he would practice counting sheep, an old muggle trip to help people fall asleep. Other times, he would recite spells or facts. he took to creating lists. Harry made lists of things of all kinds, classifying things in all different ways. There was a list of things that he liked to do. There was a list of things he hated to do. There was a list of his weaknesses and of his strenghts, and of the spells he thought were helpful and those he thought were interesting.

There was a list of things he thought he needed to improve himself, and a list of his good qualities.

You're strong, a voice inside him said. The hours waxed and waned, his mind drifted through the dark. Whatever potions were down there, there was clearly a nutritive one and one to keep his body fit. He didn't feel discomfort at all from being tied up like a hog, and he didn't seem to get hungry. His stomach growled once in a while, and Harry salivated over the prospect of a steak. He had actually started constructing memories of foods he had loved to eat and using these finely detailed memories, could drool on command. This he found was an effective way to show Tom that he was cracking under the strain.

It was on Jack's twenty-third visit that Harry knew he had to make his move. You've run out of time, old chap, one of his voices said. Harry knew it, because Tom was here. And not only was Tom here, but Tom was here with something very particular. Harry had noticed by around Tom's eighth visit that Tom was getting frustrated. Sure, he saw the signs that Harry was breaking, but it wasn't getting him where he wanted it to. Harry supposed that Tom had used this form of torture before and was well aware of its effectiveness at dealing with obstinate prisoners. Harry supposed that Tom had a rule where his tenth visit was his last. This was his tenth visit, and he had brought Harry's wand. And there was only one reason that Tom would have brought his wand, and that was to use it on Harry. Harry had no illusions about what Tom would do with that wand. He would probably use the imperius curse first, and once that failed, he would use a full on legilimantic attack. And, whether that failed or not, he would kill Harry outright. He would kill Harry with the killing curse.

Harry had come to understand that Jack dunked him usually about a dozen times. Each time, Harry was under for about two minutes. In other words, as long as they could hold him under without worrying that he would drown. Not that Harry could remember it, but he supposed Jack had started him off with a shorter period of time and had worked him up to the full two minutes, deciding that that was Harry's maximum. Harry got dunked. The potion still hurt - it wasn't so easy to just shrug it off - but he could now move about, if somewhat jerkily, and focus enough to even cast a spell wandlessly while fully submerged. Jack lifted him out of the air and Harry made a show of groaning and thrashing about. Usually he saved this performance for the eight or ninth dunk. Now, however, he had to speed things up. He couldn't be sure Tom would wait until the dozenth dunk. Harry figured he could safely hold out for three. His reasoning was that, the longer he waited, the less they would be inclined to smell a trap when he finally didn't reemerge with the ropes. This was critical to his plan. After the second dunk, he began to cry profusely and beg not to be sent down again.

"Please, please, puh - puh - please," Harry began to shudder horribly. "Please," he whispered. Dunk.

This is it, he thought. He knew somehow that Tom wouldn't bother with a fourth one. Harry focused all his energy and mentally thought the word, Diffindo. He saw the rope cut, and happily, watched it tear apart and look horribly frayed. That was good. Tom would surely notice if the rope looked as though it had been cut cleanly.

harry settled down as best as he could, casting off the ropes. Then he opened his eyes, bracing himself for the initial sting that the potion had on that sensitive part of his body. Then he peered as best he could through the dark liquid for signs of light. He had learned early on that it was impossible to see into the potion, but if you took great care, you could discern what was happening above. Jack had pulled the rope and was now arguing with Tom, who was leaning over the edge to peer inside. Perfect, Harry thought. Calling to his body every ounce of magic he had within him, he thrust himself up through the water, breaking the surface just long enough to inhale a new lungful of air and latch onto Tom's legs. From there, he let gravity suck him back down under, taking Tom with him. Harry chanced a glance into Tom's eyes aware that his own mad, grinning face of horror and insanity was as equally pronounced as Tom's expression of terror, surprise, confusion and awe. Very quickly, his expression transformed into one of extreme pain. That's right, you bastard. I'm wiping that smug expression clean off your pretty little face.

Harry had no illusions about what he had to do now. I am going to kill Tom Riddle, he thought. Immediately, Harry drew the thrashing young man close and pressed his thumbs hard into Tom's throat. He watched as Tom struggled feebly to make a fist and repel Harry. However, being unused to the potion, Harry saw quite quickly that Tom was starting to welcome the death that Harry was offering, just as Harry welcomed death when he had first been thrown into the pool. Harry continued to suffocate Tom, even after the tell tale bubbles of his last remaining breath escaped from his body. Just then, Harry felt something hard swat his hand. something that was dizzyingly hard. Harry whipped about and saw that Jack had lumbered into the pool and was now creeping his way toward them. Damn, Harry mentally swore. He seems to be somewhat immune to the stupid potion. Harry dodged another blow from Jack's enormous fist, and was forced to let go of his opponent. Harry managed to get behind Jack and climb on top of him, which put his head clearly out of the water so he could get another breath. Harry then, having Jack's head in his hands, cast the stunning curse. There was a faint jet of red light and He felt Jack's hand, which was starting to crush his abdomen, let go. Harry then planted his feet on Jack's shoulders and propelled himself to the pool's edge, where he managed to climb out.

Harry wasted no time. He got straight to his feet and maneuvered himself to the doorway, which he found was locked. And then it hit him. His wand. When he turned back, he saw that Jack was slowly pulling himself out of the pool, and, with him was Tom. Harry instinctively raised one arm and called his wand to him. It deftly flew from Tom's pocket and into his waiting hand, where it promptly filled him with the warmth and comfort he had grown so used to. Unlike any other time he could remember, however, Harry also felt a renewed energy akin to what he imagined the elixir of life would have felt like if he had ever had the opportunity to drink any.

Harry was keenly aware that he was running out of time. His renewed vigor would only carry him so far against Jack, whose giant blood made him extremely resistant to magic. "Sectumsempra," he whispered. A jet of red light erupted from his wand and struck Jack in the chest. To Harry's surprise, a deep gash formed across Jack's chest, spilling blood freely. Jack looked down in complete astonishment, an expression similar to that of Sirius's last before he was driven through the veil. Keeping his gaze trained on Jack, Harry watched and waited to see whether it would be enough. He wasn't taking any chances. He had had enough agony over the last - well - he wasn't quite sure how long it was, but certainly it was long enough and excruciating enough that he wasn't prepared to let himself back into that situation without one hell of a fight. Jack stumbled about, emitting several groans and rubbing his head, which made Harry think that his wandless sdtunner must have given Jack a killer headache. Clearly though, Jack was not down for the count. Harry cast the incarceration hex, but the ropes merely fell off Jack and into the pool below. Harry considered trying to force Jack into the liquid, but quickly discounted that option. Jack's giant blood and skin clearly immunized him from its effects, so that all it would serve to do, if anything, would be to heal the very wounds that Harry had inflicted.

With nothing left at his disposal, Harry cast the dark curse yet again. He wasn't sure if another slash would appear or if it would simply reinforce the first one. He wasn't even sure if it would do anything at all. Does two levitation charms cause things to float even higher? he wondered. Quickly though, he found that it indeed had the intended effect. Another gash appeared on Jack's torso. Jack stumbled again and nearly fell into the water. He doesn't know it has revitalizing properties, Harry thought. If he had paid any attention at all to me at the outset, he would have noticed this. Harry realized, of course, that it didn't matter how many gashes he put in Jack. Eventually Jack would simply fall into the liquid and his wounds would heal. Your only hope is to pray he passes out from blood loss and drowns when he finally does fall in - except that won't work either. Harry groaned mentally, remembering that the potion also had the property of making you wide awake and fully alert. Harry now found himself dancing backwards to avoid Jack's ever slow movement towards him. Harry now tried casting other spells, ranging from the stunner to the impediment jinx. He noticed as he did this, continually backing up, that his spells seemed to glow with a brighter, richer intensity than he had ever remembered. Hitting Jack with the third stunner seemed to do it. Jack's body seized up, and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head. He then proceeded to collapse. Before he fell in, however, harry cast the levitation charm and held him up. He briefly wondered what to do with the hulk, watching as his continued to flow onto the stone floor. Could he just wait for the thing to finally die and then toss its carcass away? Maybe. He wasn't sure. Even now, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of killing Jack. harry was all too aware of the possibility that Jack simply didn't know any better. He probably didn't question his boss's actions or motives, because he had never been trained to. Just like you never questioned Dumbledore. Still, Harry couldn't have him running around torturing people and his concern for all the others out there who would be at risk outweighed his own desire to maintain the purity of his innocence.

Through all his mental ramblings, Harry only barely managed to notice that he was standing in the exact spot where Tom was supposed to be lying down. Eyes bulging, Harry whipped his head about, Jack's body quivering from Harry's anxiety. The door, which was now on the far wall, was ajar. GODDAMN! his mind shrieked, full of venemous rage and self-recrimination. Harry took only a moment to prop the body along one side of the wall. He cast a basic sticking charm and hoped that it would do for keeping Jack from accessing the potion.

Harry then made a mad dash for the exit, racing all the way down the hall and into the stairwell. From there, he raced upward to the seventh floor and down the hall, stopping dead in his tracks when he reached the large oak door. You can't go in there, he thought with dawning horror. You can't use magic. And whatever else Tom is, he's cunning. He knows it and he may very well be waiting for you. God only knows what other traps he's set. Harry took a step back and considered the situation. No, there was nothing here for it. Realizing he had to return at a later date, Harry cast a blasting hex at one of the doors, only barely registering that the force of his spell caused the door to explode into a whirlwind of wood shrapnel.

You may be protected, Harry thought, but your buddy Marv isn't. With that thought and a determined gleam in his eye, Harry set out for the Red Cherry. There's going to be some serious hell to pay for all of this, he thought, his mind focused on the one task of getting to Marv. Harry wasn't sure anymore that he wasn't capable of casting the Cruciatus. he had spent what he could only imagine as being days tortured mercilessly. The hot anger that had filled him during many of those brief interludes of peace had left him, and was replaced now by a compact, icy ball of white rage deep within him.

Outside, the world seemed unusually bright to Harry, which only marked the stark contrast between his past few days and his current state of mind and the obliviousness of the people around him. Harry strode purposefully to the Red Cherry, briefly shielding his eyes from the sunlight with one hand until he acclimatized to the beaming yellow light.

He had come, in his short time at the bar, to regard the musty smell of leather and wood as comforting, but now, it merely reinforced his resolve to destroy everything in his sight. From the fact that there were servers milling about and that Kittie was there, Harry guessed it was probably late afternoon. You only have an hour before guests start filing in. Harry couldn't have planned his timing better, for now all the people he had come to rely on, all the people who he now realized must have been Tom's lackies, were here - all with the exception of Jack, who, hopefully, was dead.

Kittie looked up from the bar and smiled, though, after a moment, her smile faded. She stood and made to go to Harry, but he refused to let her get close. "Harry?" she asked, suddenly feeling a weight buffeting her away from him.

He turned his gaze fully to her, and let all the bitterness flow forward. Kittie's eyes widened from the onslaught and she took a step back. Without a word, Harry waved his wand, causing all the glasses that hung from the racks above the bar to shatter. He wasn't entirely sure what spell he had used, except that he was now running on pure instinct. It was like his wand was now focusing a controlled form of accidental magic. harry felt like he could do anything just by willing it - so deep was his sense of loss and betrayal. His self-loathing and, strangely enough, his love. He had abandoned Ron and Hermione for this place. He had abandoned Ginny. He had lied to himself and told him that it was only for a few days, but in his heart of hearts he knew better. He had committed a gross betrayal of his own against the people that had supported him for the last six years. He was going after the horcruxes full on now, and nothing was going to get in his way.

Once the shattering of glass subsided, the last tinkling shards leaving a dead silence in its wake, Harry spoke, all eyes having been trained on him. "Somebody please go get Marv."

"harry, no!" Kittie exclaimed. "What are you planning to do?"

"What am I planning to do?" he asked, pretending to mull over the question. "It's rather simple. I'm going to ask him a few questions."

This statement seemed to raise Kittie's ire. "You have some nerve, Harry. How dare you barge in here and - and -"

"Shut up," Harry said simply. He turned to another server and said, "Sal, is Marv around?"

"Er, yeah," Sal said. "In the back."

"Go get him."

Just then, SStu stepped out from one of the back rooms, Minnie at his side. "Oy, Harry! Where've you been?"

Stu stopped and took in the sight of all his glasses smashed and then pursed his lips. "Someone mind telling me what's going on here?"

There was a silence that ensued, and Stu, not knowing Harry, assumed that it had more to do with the commanding nature of his voice than anything else. Harry, simply, was wondering how best to make an example of Stu.

"It's very simple, Stu," Harry said in a clear voice. "I'm taking over this establishment for a few minutes so I can clear up a few things. Then I'll be on my way. You'd best just go have a seat and keep quiet."

Stu raised an eyebrow at this statement, and Harry could feel an amusement radiating off of him. "Taking over? For a few minutes? I'd best keep quiet? This is a joke, right kid? Who're you to tell me what to do?"

Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself, Stu." Harry extended one hand out, palm face up. With only a second's worth of concentration, a black and silver python extended out of his hand, immediately gazing with its piercing red eyes at all the inhabitants, who now stood frozen in shock. It extended to twelve feet in length and then flopped to the ground, where it proceeded to curl around Harry's feet. harry kindly reassured it in a tell-tale hissing noise not to fear.

"Of course, master. You are one of us, after all."

Harry noticed with some amusement that many of the people who were in the bar had taken several steps back. Some of them, no doubt, remembered what happened the last time Harry and his motley crew of snakes appeared in an establishment. Lydia, oddly enough, spoke up. "You did kill all those demons!" she exclaimed. "That's amazing! Any chance you'd be willing to come work for me at the Lucky Charm?"

Harry turned to face her and eyed her speculatively. Then he returned his attention to Stu.

"Now see here," Stu began, clearly unnerved at the display of power. "Tricks like that - you can't come here and threaten us like this. You have no right. We took you in, for God's sake. Harry, kid, what the hell?"

"You know, Jack's gonna be back any minute," Minnie said. "It's a cute trick, the snake and all, but do you really think you can take him? He'll rip you limb from limb."

Harry smiled a cold, mirthless smile. "Jack should have thought long and hard before he decided to spend the last couple of days torturing me," Harry said. "Not that it matters now. I've dispatched him. You'll need a new bodyguard, sugar."

"Now hold on asec," Stu said, raising his hand in supplication. "Jack wouldn't do that. he's been here working since you disappeared."

With a flick of his wand, Harry silenced Stu. "Be thankful I don't outright kill you, Stu. If you ever want your voice back, you'll kindly have a seat and keep out of my way." Harry turned to face the general crowd. He said, "Sal, go retrieve Marv. use force if necessary. Chanel, go with him and make sure Marv comes here. He and I need to have a chat." Sal and Chanel looked from one another to Harry and back again and then nodded.

He turned to face the remainder of the people. "I suppose many of you are scared. You need not be. I'm only here to finish up some loose ends and then I'll be on my way."

"Are you going to kill him?" Kittie asked in a small voice.

Harry turned to her, his anger surging anew. "Were you in on it?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"What?"

"Don't lie to me, Kittie. Were you in on it? With Marv and Tom?"

"Harry I don't understand. Who's Tom?"

Just then, Marv entered, Chanel and Sal at either side. "Hello, Harry," Marv said. From a quick survey, Harry could tell that Marv understood everything that was going on.

Any doubt Harry might have had about Marv vanished when he sssaw the recognition in Marv's eyes as Marv gazed down at his wand.

"I thought as much," Marv said. "When you showed up here, there was something about you. And then when I noticed that some of our dishes were incredibly clean - they sometimes defied dirt. And you seemed to do it all so swiftly. I knew you had to be a wizard."

"Go on," Harry prodded.

"What would you like me to say?"

"From what trinket were you resurrected?"

Marv nodded. "Ah, so that's it. You understandd what I am."

"Marv, what are you talking about?" Kittie asked. "Marv, tell him he's crazy. He - he thinks you're some sort of monster. he thinks you murdered his family and are hunting him down. But you can't be - you just can't. You would have only been a child when it happened to him. He said you killed his last protector last month. But you couldn't have. You were right here."

At these words, Marv's expression turned suddenly very weary and lost and sad.

"Marv, tell him!" Kittie urged.

"It's not so simple, Kittie," Marv said, clearly resigned to his fate.

"What do you mean it's not so simple!" Kittie shouted, her anger and frustration getting the better of her. There was something pleading and desperate in her eyes, and Harry suddenly knew for certain that she was not working for Tom. Maybe none of them were. hell, maybe Jack wasn't either. Could it have been the imperius? Harry suddenly felt a cold chill run down his spine. The imperius. He felt suddenly incredibly sick. Did he just kill someone who was completely innocent? But how am I supposed to fight off the imperius? he thought. Jack would have just kept coming for me. It was self-defense. At least, it was partly self-defense.

Kittie seemed on the verge of tears. She feels betrayed, harry thought, his mind flashing like a light bulb with the insight. Marv was probably one of the few people she trusted, and now she finds out that he's been keeping something huge from her. Harry was also rather surprised from Marv's reaction. He had expected Marv to put up a fight or at least deny everything. It would have made sense. Harry couldn't fathom what cunning game Marv was playing at by effectively alienating his friends and not making a break for the tower. He would be free and clear if he made it to the portals. Harry also couldn't tell where Marv could possibly be keeping his wand. There was something else too. he had seen many expressions on Voldemort's face. He knew Voldemort and Tom were capable of feeling smug, happy, anger, hatred, frustration. These were all driving emotions, but Marv instead had the look of someone who had been beaten a long time ago and was merely waiting for the axe blade to befall his head.

"I'm sorry, Kittie," Marv said in as placating tone as he could muster.

"You're sorry?" Kittie asked, sounding confused. "Marv, please. I don't understand. Don't tell me you're sorry. You can't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for. Please, please, Marv."

Harry realized he needed to take control of the situation very quickly, before Kittie exploded into a fit of hysterics. She's on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and you can't let that happen. Harry wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't let that happen, other than it would interfere with his interrogation. More than that, he felt she needed to be calm to absorb everything. He didn't want her to walk away from this confused. She had been confused enough in her lifetime and he didn't want to compound her grief by effectively taking away her last source of solace.

"Kittie," Harry said in a commanding voice, calling on some of his magic to lace it for effect. "Kittie, you told me that people who come here have pasts that they don't like. We all do. You do, and I do. Well, Marv does also, and it appears it's linked to mine. I need to hear his story."

This seemd to mollify her a little bit, though harry could still feel the distress radiating from her. Once satisfied that she wasn't going to interrupt, harry turned to Marv. "All right start from the beginning. When did you regain consciousness?"

"1984."

"How?"

"What does it matter to you how?" Marv asked suddenly, his voice laced with bitterness. "You're here to kill me, aren't you? Why don't you just get it over with?"

"Do you really think it's that simple?" Harry asked. "I need to know which artifact you come from. I need to know who else knows and who my other allies are."

Marv sighed. "It was the locket."

"Slytherin's locket?" Harry asked, surprised, and a bit disappointed.

Marv seemed to pick up on this, because he asked, "Were you hoping for something else?"

"I expected that the locket had been destroyed," Harry admitted. "I was hoping you were the missing artifact. The one Albus and I couldn't figure out."

Marv nodded. "Albus Dumbledore."

"Yeah," Harry said. "You need not fear him anymore though. One of your minions murdered him."

"They're not my minions," Marv said sharply. "They never were. I never wanted any of this. I - I just wanted to live."

"How did you escape the locket?"

"A wizard coaxed me out of it. He wanted to steal my power, I think." Marv let out a short laugh. "he was so stupid."

""Who was he?" Harry asked, now intensely curious. Was he going to find out who the initials R.A.B. belonged to?

"I don't know," Marv said, shaking his head. "I didn't stick around long enough to find out."

"What happened to him?" Harry asked.

Marv again shook his head. "Again, I don't know. he had passed out when I awoke."

"You killed him."

"No, I didn't."

"You stole his life force."

There was a silence. Marv seemed to consider this. Then he said, "I don't know about that."

"You need to suck the life force from a living being in order to corporealize," Harry said.

"How do you know?"

"Do you know of the diary? It must have been one of the first, so I assume you have memories of it."

"I remember the diary, yes," Marv admitted, though somewhat reluctantly.

"Lucius gave it to my friend's little sister when she was eleven. You possessed her and made her unleash the basilisk on the students."

There was another silence. finally, Marv said. "You're a bastard."

Of all the things Harry had expected Marv to say, this was not one of them He was surprised, to say the least, but decided to take it in stride. "Why do you say that?"

"Do you think I wanted this?" he asked, repeating a version of one of his earlier statements. "Do you think I'm evil, Harry? All I wanted to do was live. I never possessed your friend. I never wanted to kill. I watched, all the time. I saw through his eyes, I saw him turn his wand onto one unsuspecting person after the next. My only comfort was that, one day, he would kill someone and he would cut me away from him so that I could live in peace."

"What?"

"Are you surprised that I don't want to run around murdering people, Harry?"

"Well, yeah. Especially since I ran across your double over in the other building. He was all too happy torturing me - not that he would get his hands dirty. No, he had Jack do it."

"What did he do?" Marv asked, now curious.

"It was a potion he dipped me in. It was like the cruciatus. On and off for days. he wanted to break me."

Marv considered this. "I'm sorry. If I could stop him, believe me, I would."

"Why on earth would you want to do such a thing?" Harry asked.

"Because he's evil."

"Then go stop him."

"I can't."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at this. "That's a bit silly, isn't it? If there's anybody who could, it would be you." Marv shook his head, but Harry continued. "I tried, but he has his office warded so I couldn't use magic. It was a blood ward keyed to him. You clearly could if you wanted-"

"I'm a muggle."

Harry stopped speaking instantly. His astonishment must have shown clearly on his face, because Marv laughed again. "Now you understand, don't you, Harry? I'm not like tom. That's why I didn't take his name. I don't hate muggles. I don't want to control them. I am one. I was the tiny part of him that hated himself. I was the reason he thought to make horcruxes in the first place. He wanted to get rid of me. He thought I made him weak. I was his conscience, you see. So, here I am, exiled, weak and vulnerable, but, you know what? I'm happy too. I have friends, I like my life. I don't need to bully people or control or kill them. I just need to have some companionship, but I know I can't, now can I? I don't grow old, do I? I'm not really real, so before you go and judge me, just think about that."

Harry was suddenly speechless. Either he was the best actor in the world, Harry thought, or Marv was somehow the good part of Voldemort. As loathed as he was to admit it, harry couldn't ignore the evidence that weighed in favour of Marv's assertions. He was a nice guy. He was Tom Riddle, and he was nice. It was enough to give Harry a headache the size of Walpurgis night.

"You do know that as long as you live, the Dark Lord is invincible, don't you?" Harry asked.

"How many has he created?" Marv said, asking his own question instead of answering Harry's.

"Horcruxes?" Harry asked, and, when Marv nodded his agreement, Harry continued. "There's seven, including himself. At least, that is what we've been going on."

"Yes, it was seven."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

For the first time, Marv smirked. "I am him, remember? I was there when he asked-"

"Slughorn," they both said in unison.

Marv looked surprised. "How did you know I asked the old potions professor?"

Harry merely shrugged. "I've made it my business to find out everything about you. I had to, after all, since I needed to figure out where you've put all these damned pieces of you. It's not like I could just go up to old Voldy and say, hey, tell me about all those dark rituals you've been up to."

"Slughorn told you?"

"Harry nodded. "Took a bit of convincing," Harry admitted, but then, upon further reflection, realized that it hadn't been convincing so much as bribery. "It wasn't really me so much. Dumbledore spent the better part of last year scouring the earth for all your former acquaintances. Even that little house elf you framed."

Marv looked positively strained at Harry's last comment. "Yes, I remember her. I did not want that to happen."

"What, you care about house elves too?" Harry asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Marv asked defensively.

Harry shrugged again. This Marv was getting to be rather surreal. "Perhaps we should finish this conversation somewhere else. It appears there's a lot we need to talk about, assuming you're willing."

"Funny, I thought this was an interrogation. You You mean to tell me I have a choice?"

Harry threw his hands up into the air. What was he supposed to do with this guy. Harry had expected when he had been charged with the task of destroying hoarcruxes that it would have meant breaking a glass vase, or throwing a book into a fire or some other such equally simple task. This, however, was completely different. Harry couldn't quite imagine himself taking a knife and plunging it into Marv's heart, letting his blood drip out all over Harry's hands and onto the floor. Harry would be compelled to watch; his conscience would let him do no less. He would watch as the look of pain in Marv's face slowly faded into that slack look of someone free. Can you really do that?

"You know I have to kill you, don't you? Harry asked.

There was a silence in the air that seemed to thicken and pool about each of the bar's occupants. After a time, with resignation clear in his eyes, Marv nodded. 'I understand."

"No," Kittie broke in. "There's got to be another way. It can't be."

Harry and Marv both turned to face her. She had been listening intently to the entire conversation, trying to glean as much as she could. Now though, she slumped back and buried her face in her hands. The feeling of wanting to go to her and comfort her that feeling that had been in him since he arrived - since he had met her, seemed to have disappeared. Whatever attachments Harry had had were now gone. Those dark, pain filled days of solitude under Tom's wrath snapped any emotional connection he could have had towards her. In fact, Harry now simply acutely felt the loss of his Ginny. A sense of betrayal washed over him as he thought about this. Look what you've done, his mind told him, though really he didn't think it was all that fair. He would have had to have come for Marv eventually. No, in some ways it was better that he had stumbled across this place.

It's the power the Dark Lord knows not, he thought. Your own feelings of isolation and despair put you in the ideal position to hunt him down. How else do you explain managing to get into the thick of Riddle's affairs by complete chance?

Marv seemed as though he wanted to move to comfort her, but didn't dare. He looked to Harry for permission. harry gave him a tight nod and let the two hold each other, Kittie's sobs coming in full force as she rested her face in the crook of Marv's shoulder. "It'll be all right," Harry heard Marv say in a whisper. "Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere. Not yet, anyway."

"Don't leave me," Kittie said.

In another life, Harry would have thought that such a statement sounded whiny, but now, he understood the pang of that loss. The feeling like you're last protector had left you. Dumbledore had basically walked into his own death when he flew to the Astronomy Tower that night. harry, after having mulled it over, knew that in all likelihood, Dumbledore did not expect to survive. He may have even knew that he was dying from the poison. Maybe Snape was only meant to make it quick and painless. After all, there was no reason in not asking for Slughorn's help as opposed to Snape's. Harry shoved that thought aside for the moment. He didn't want to think about that, especially now when he had so many other things on his mind.

Marv looked up and stared at Harry intensely. So much so that Harry felt a bit uneasy. Tom really did have quite the stage presence when he wanted. "I'm going to have a moment alone with Kittie." Harry understood that, this time, Marv wasn't asking for permission.

"Go use one of the back rooms. I could do with a bite to eat anyway."

Marv took Kittie's hand and gently guided her to the back room. When they had left, Harry relaxed and looked about. All eyes were still on him. Stu was gesticulating wildly at his mouth in a silent plea to get his voice back. Harry flicked his wand and Stu let out an audible sigh.

"Well," harry said looking about. "Get all yourselves back to work." Still nobody moved.

"Er, what about the glasses?" the bartender said.

"What about them?" Harry asked.

"They're all broken. Can't really do much for our customers when they can't drink anything here." The bartender looked rather sheepish and ready to flee at the slightest inkling that Harry would dispense his wrath upon him. This must be the power Voldemort loves so much, lording over everybody else this kind of terror.

Harry again flicked his wand and silently, all the pieces of glass reformed themselves. Well, not quite all. A couple got their pieces rearranged and were now mostly unusable. But all the others were safe, and Harry levitated them and held them in the air for the bartender to collect. "You can take them," harry said. "I don't altogether trust my ability to float them into their correct spots." He supposed he could have done them one at a time, but it would hardly have looked like an impressive feat of magic. That thought made him relapse into a memory of Dumbledore's battle with Voldemort in the Ministry lobby, rendering him completely oblivious to the wide eyed stares of the restaurant patrons who were looking between him and the floating glasses with that same mixture of awe and terror that people like Olivander had for people like Tom Riddle. Great yet terrible.