I apologize for the long wait. I will not give excuses, but I promise to try to update more frequently. If it makes you feel any better, I have filled in a lot of holes I had in the story's plot, so hopefully updates will go much smoother. Thank you once again to all reviewers!

No point in making you wait longer. On with the fic!

It was only through sheer instinct as a performer that Tom managed to tear his eyes away from those of Harry's to concentrate on his surroundings. The audience was eagerly waiting the next trick, and Harry himself was gazing up at him in a mixture of impatience, curiosity, and slight embarrassment, those emerald green eyes of his glinting in the stage light. Knowing he could never perform up to his usual standards feeling so unbalanced, Tom subtly moved his hand out of view and waved his fingers.

Everything was instantly still. The audience members were no longer shuffling in their seats, frozen completely in place. Glancing sideways, Tom was glad to see Harry was no longer moving as well. Concentrating, Tom took a step forward, feeling a strange pulling sensation all over his body. When he completed the step, he turned to find an exact replica of himself standing behind him, unmoving like all of the others. Satisfied, Tom stepped over to his assistant, taking his time in observing him.

Harry was in that stage between teenager and adult. His face had lost its baby fat, but had not yet gained the harder lines of maturity, giving him a boyish look. He was of average height, frame lean, but not skinny, and his shoulders had begun to fill out from what Tom could tell. Circling around Harry, Tom couldn't suppress a slight smirk. His shoulders were not the only things filling out, he noted as he eyed the boy's shapely rump. Chuckling quietly to himself, Tom circled back around to Harry's front.

His skin was a healthy tan, suggesting he spent a good deal of time outdoors, and his dark hair looked perpetually wind swept. He normally regarded such unkempt hair with distaste, but staring at the boy's overall profile Tom could admit to himself that nothing else would look natural on him. The messy bangs fell into the boy's eyes which were, Tom was certain, the most vivid green he had ever seen in his life. If not for the spectacles perched on Harry's nose, Tom would have believed him to be wearing contacts.

Overall, Harry was somewhat plain in appearance (except for those eyes and fabulous arse, he reminded himself), but Tom would heartily welcome a tumble between the sheets any day.

Perhaps I might convince Harry here to stick around after the performance, Tom thought. That way I could show him some real "magic". Tom hummed contentedly to himself at the thought, rubbing his hands together in an almost sinisterly way. Walking back to his frozen double, he shot Harry one last lusty glance before time unfroze.

All right Harry, let's see what you've got.

There was one thing that hadn't realized when he had agreed to assist Riddle. Staring up into red eyes, trying to ignore the, perhaps, thousands of other pairs that were currently fixated on the two of them, Harry cursed his reckless, dive-right-in behavior that always got him into trouble.

He had horrible stage fright.

Gritting his teeth as the magician continued to stare, Harry was about to snap—most likely something rude—when Riddle looked away. When he looked back, Harry was startled at the new gleam in his red eyes that spoke of newly gained insight, but dismissed it as nothing, just the hot stage lights playing tricks on him.

Riddle walked a few paces over, then whipped out a white handkerchief which grew larger immediately. He snapped it down to the floor, then up again to reveal a wooden chair. "Have a seat," Riddle said to Harry as he gestured towards the chair.

Harry did so cautiously, settling himself as comfortably as he could on the hard seat. He saw the magician grin in satisfaction before whipping out the white sheet again, only this time an easel and paper appeared. Puzzled, Harry waited for the man to explain.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the magician began. "For my next trick I will be indulging my creative side."

I think this whole thing has been pretty creative already, Harry thought to himself. I don't think I can take much more.

Riddle continued, unaware of his assistant's uneasy thoughts. "I will be asking my assistant here to think of specific things; what, I will not yet reveal. As the image presents itself in his mind, I will run my hand over the canvas until that same image is presented here." He tapped a finger on the sheet. "I will not use any painting supplies other than the paper and easel, and I will once again be blindfolded." He ended the statement by retying the fabric back in place, red eyes disappearing behind black cloth. Turning his body to face the easel, his head swiveled towards Harry. "Let's begin, shall we?"

"All right Harry, I want you to imagine an animal. One that stands out to you. It could be a pet, one you've seen at the zoo, or even one you saw on your way here to see my show. Whatever pops into your head. Try to imagine as many details as possible, as that will help while I paint."

This was a bit difficult, Harry decided after a few moments thinking. He had never been allowed his own pet when he lived with his horrible aunt and uncle, and while his godfather had been all for a family pet they had never been able to agree on one they both wanted. He had been allowed to the zoo once, but it had been very brief and he had hardly seen any animals. He hadn't even seen any animals on the drive here! Closing his eyes in frustration, Harry thought long and hard.

There was an owl, he realized suddenly. She used to perch in the tree by his window and he would stare at her in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep. She was a beautiful bird, with white feathers and black spots, and yellow eyes that would stare back at him in an almost maternal way. During the lonely days when his cousin Dudley made sure no one wanted to be Harry's friend, Hedwig (as he had taken to calling her) was his only companion. She had stayed until Harry was seven, when his uncle Vernon (who was sick of hearing her hoot all night) had had the tree cut down. He had missed her terribly, but eventually moved on.

So caught up in his thoughts of Hedwig, Harry barely heard the gasps of the audience. Saving the image of her in the back of his mind, he looked towards the magician. What he saw shocked him to his core.

There, plain as day, was a picture of Hedwig on the canvas. It was exactly as Harry imagined her; yellow eyes peering at him as she perched on a tree branch, wings spread wide as she meant to launch herself into the night to hunt. Her smooth, glossy wings fairly glowed in the moonlight and her beak was open to utter a last "Hoot" of farewell. The picture was so real, Harry half expected her to soar off the page and over the heads of the audience.

Harry turned wide eyes to Tom Riddle, who stood with a small, smug smile on his face.

"I take it that you recognize the owl, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded, and then realizing the magician couldn't see the movement, spoke a hesitant, "Yes."

He nearly leapt up in surprise as the audience started to applause. He had nearly forgotten they were there he was so caught up in his thoughts.

Riddle bowed before turning the paper over to a clean sheet. "What else shall I have you imagine, hmm?"

Tom was having a grand time. Like his soul, Harry's thoughts were warm and enticing. His imagination was a goldmine of colors and images and he nearly purred with the pleasure of immersing his mind in another so rich in mental sensations.

Besides the owl, Tom had coaxed several other images out of Harry's mind. There was a man with greasy hair and a large, beak-like nose who seemed to have taken up sneering as a professional occupation. He sensed dislike radiating off of Harry in waves as he thought of this man. Another was of a blonde girl wearing radish earrings and a bottle cap necklace. There was a pencil tucked in her long hair and she was holding a magazine upside-down while her face had a dreamy, far-off look. He sensed that Harry had a certain fondness for her, but it was platonic in every sense. The last image was of a heavyset woman swelling up like a balloon while a bulldog hung from her ankle, having bitten onto the limb as the woman floated away. The last picture amused Tom (and the audience) to no end.

There was only time left for one more image before Tom had to move on, and while he would love to include Harry in the rest of the show, he knew that was not an option. He withheld a sigh, resolving to see Harry privately after the show. However, he could use this last image to rove a little deeper into Harry's mind, to see more than the surface thoughts he had been reading from Harry so far. He smirked.

"For this next picture we shall be doing things a little differently. I won't be asking you to imagine a specific thing; instead, I need you to follow my instructions very carefully Harry." He waited for Harry to nod before continuing. "First, close your eyes. Now now, don't be so suspicious!" he said as Harry gave him a skeptical look, before closing his eyes. "There, see? Next, take a deep breath. Finally, I want you to count up to three in your head over and over until I say so. Okay?"

"Just up to three?" Harry asked uncertainly, eyes still shut.

"Yes. Think of it like that thing they say as you're learning to dance. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three."

Satisfied that the boy was properly concentrating, he delved once more into Harry's mind. He gently prodded at the mental barriers keeping more personal thoughts hidden, and felt them eventually give way. He dived in, submersing himself in more of the warmth that Harry's mind seemed to radiate. He searched through different memories, giving them only quick glances when they proved to be uninteresting to him. A dark cupboard with cobwebs, a red-haired family surrounding a Christmas tree, a black-haired man with his arm around the shoulders of a slightly shorter man with grey-flecked brown hair, a laughing, grey-eyed boy running towards him, arms spread open…

He was about to choose one of the images when he sensed something strange. Intrigued, he delved closer to a sudden heat, warmer than the surrounding images. It seemed to come from Harry's subconscious, where most of his dreams were stored. Without a thought, he plunged right in.

There was fire. Flames shooting everywhere, eating away at furniture, walls, everything. And there were screams. Screams from above and below, pleads for help and God, anything to stop the agony. The flames were coming towards him, to embrace him in embers and heat, to take him away…

With a gasp, Tom jerked his mind roughly out of Harry's. Eyes shit tight behind the blindfold, he tried to get his breathing under control. He was onstage. There was no fire, only the stage lights pounding into his back. There were no flames, none at all. No screams. Nothing.

Forcing himself to calm, he realized he needed to paint something soon lest the crowd become suspicious. He picked a random image he had seen, the cupboard, willing it onto the paper under his hand. The crowd's sounds of wonder and confusion seemed to snap him back to normal, and he took off his blindfold to turn to Harry.

The boy was rubbing his head, wincing slightly. His rough exit must have caused him pain, Tom realized. He sent a healing vibe to dull the sensation, and watched the boy sigh in relief. Harry turned to look at him, and he gave the boy a small, charming smile.

"You recognize the image, Harry?" he asked.

He saw the boy frown in distaste at the picture. "Yes, I remember it all right."

"I take it that it brings back bad memories?" Tom asked again, cursing himself for choosing that particular one.

"Sort of, but it's all in the past now," Harry shrugged it off.

Relieved, Tom gestured at Harry while addressing the audience. "A round of applause for Harry and his assistance today!"

The crowd cheered loudly, and he saw Harry flush slightly under the attention. "Umm, how am I supposed to get back to my seat?" he asked quietly, walking over to stand by the magician.

Tom smirked, before grabbing his hand. Closing his eyes, they disappeared with a loud Pop.

They reappeared on the railing in front of Harry's seat, Tom holding onto to Harry so he didn't fall. Tom brought his mouth towards the boy's ear and whispered, "Check your pockets," before helping him down. Green eyes looked at him curiously, and Tom couldn't help but wink as he disappeared again, only to reappear onstage.

Bowing as the audience cheered, Tom glanced briefly at Harry before concentrating on what was to come next. "Ladies and gentlemen…"

"That was amazing!" Ron yelled excitedly. "I can't believe he did all that! Remember when he just pointed at that bird and then BOOM! Stuff flying everywhere! And then-"

"Enough Ron!" Hermione snapped, though there was a dazed look in her eyes. "Harry and I were there, we saw it all too."

"And Harry!" Ron continued, blatantly ignoring Hermione. "I can't believe you actually got to go onstage! I mean, he read your mind! Do you know how cool that is?! How else could he have gotten those pictures? He got everything down to the grease dripping from Snape's hair!"

"I know Ron, I'm just as shocked as you are," Harry said. "It was so scary being up there, all the people looking at me."

"And then he just poofs you back right in front of us!" Ron said, not listening to Harry.

"What did Tom Riddle say to you Harry?" Hermione asked curiously. "I heard him whisper something to you right before you sat down."

Being in such a state of shock after disappearing and reappearing (How did he do that? Harry thought to himself), he had completely forgotten Riddle's words. Ignoring Hermione's curious look, he started to search his pockets. Reaching for the back pockets in his jeans, he felt something. Pulling whatever it was out, Harry discovered it be a piece of folded paper. Opening it, he found a plastic card.

"That's a backstage pass!" Hermione said, completely shocked.

"What?" Ron said, snatching the card up to examine it. "Holy hell! It really is! Why didn't you tell us you had a pass, Harry?!"

Bur Harry didn't hear Ron. He was focused on the paper. Written in neat calligraphy was a letter addressed to him.

Dear Harry,

I hope you enjoyed the show. You were a wonderful assistant and I thank you for your help. I still have the pictures, and I thought you might like to have them. I certainly have no use for any of them and you seemed to rather like the owl one (though personally I found the one with the woman and dog to be most amusing).

Enclosed is a backstage pass. If you follow the hallway to the right of the concessions table you should come to a door that says 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Go through there to get backstage and one of my assistants should be nearby to lead you to my dressing room. If anyone gives you trouble, just show them the pass and the stamp on the back of this note.

Sincerely,

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Turning the note over, Harry found an ornate 'V' with snakes as a border, stamped in green ink.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione, who had been reading over his shoulder, squealed. "You've been invited backstage by Tom Riddle himself! That's amazing!"

"Hey," Ron said thoughtfully. "Do you think this thing could get us all backstage? I mean, he just wants to give you some pictures. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if a couple friends tagged along, right?"

"I suppose," Harry said hesitantly. "It would sure make me feel better if you guys came along."

"Then it's settled!" Ron said excitedly. "Do any of you have a pen? Or paper? I want to get his autograph!"

"Now wait a minute," said Hermione. "It doesn't say that Harry is allowed to bring anyone with him. We could get in big trouble."

"But it didn't say I couldn't bring anyone with me," said Harry slyly. "Come on Hermione, I know you're just as anxious as Ron to meet Tom Riddle."

"Well…oh all right! But if we get in trouble, I'll never speak to you again!"

"That's what you said last time," said Ron, grinning.

"And the time before that," said Harry.

"And the time before-"

Before the boys could continue, Hermione grabbed them both by the arm and started to tug them towards the concessions table.

Sitting with his head in his hands, Tom tried to vanish the images from his mind.

"That was a long time ago," he whispered to himself. "It's over and done with. That was just a dream. A dream from the mind of a boy with a very detailed imagination. He wasn't there."

Sighing, Tom rubbed his hands over his face, before standing abruptly. He had a guest he needed to get ready for.

"Don't let some foolish dream spoil your evening," he muttered to himself. "You'll soon have a nice, supple body to distract you." He closed his eyes, imagining windswept black hair becoming messier under his hands and glazed green eyes, no longer hidden by glasses.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

Victoria entered. "You said you needed something, sir?"

"Yes. Go to the door that leads to the main theater, the one by the rigging system," Tom ordered. "Wait there until you see a boy with dark hair and glasses. Once you find him, bring him here. After that, leave us alone. Make sure no one disturbs us or there will be hefty consequences. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. You're dismissed."

Victoria nodded, leaving the dressing room swiftly. As she closed the door, she caught one last glimpse of her boss. Walking down the hallway, her mind couldn't help but recall the predatory eyes and smile that promised sinfully wicked things.

She shivered.

A/N

What's that?! Could it be some plot development?! Le Gasp!

Let's see, I believe the paint scene was inspired (once again) by the movie 'The Illusionist', but I (once again) changed it to suit my own needs. I won't be relying on movies to think of tricks the whole time, I swear! I have some originality!

If you're wondering why Harry imagined Snape, Luna, and Aunt Marge, here is a summary of what Tom asked Harry:

Who is the worst teacher you have ever had?

Who is the most unique person you know?

What have you always wanted to happen to a relative you greatly dislike?

Please review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Chippy