That night, Tom came with the darkness, as always. Even though his arrival was soundless, Harry could feel his presence in the dark and reached out for him. Finally... But after the initial frantic kisses, Tom pulled back and whispered:

"Harry? Will you do something for me?"

Harry found Tom's lips again in the darkness and breathed against them: "Anything. You know that. Just show me what to do..." His hands began to explore, softly.

Tom laughed. "I didn't mean that kind of something, but now that you mention it, I do have a few ideas for later on..." He stroked Harry's face gently. "I need your help, Harry." Was there a note of anxiousness in his voice?

"Of course. What do you need me to do?"

Harry felt Tom's hand tremble a little against his cheek. "Do you remember the prophecy about the two of us? The one that shattered at the Ministry-?"

"I don't believe in prophecies anymore. They are just words. Who cares about words? This, on the other hand, is real..."

Tom returned Harry's kiss, but then he whispered: "I have always believed that prophecy to be true. Neither can live while the other survives. I need you to do that which you were destined for, Harry. I need you to kill Voldemort..."

"What? What are you talking about? Lumos!"

Harry expected light to burst from his wand, but nothing happened. He heard Tom's laughter in the dark.

"That spell won't illuminate the kind of darkness I cast, Harry. I am rather good at magic, you know. Here, I will give you light." Tom whispered a word in an unknown ancient tongue and a gleam of soft light appeared between them.

Tom's face was pale in the flickering light, but still so lovely it took Harry's breath away.

"What do you mean - kill Voldemort? I could never harm you, you know that."

" I am not asking you to kill my body; I am asking you to destroy my soul. I am asking you to kill Voldemort. I showed you once how that name was created: I had constructed that dark appellation out of the letters of the name I despised: Tom Marvolo Riddle. But now my old name has become infused with magic; you have whispered it with love and cried it out in passion - how can Tom not be precious to me now? But the other name, the name you must have feared, has grown repulsive: Voldemort. A dark and unnatural creature, made from fear and power lust... Perhaps the prophecy was right: He cannot survive in a world that also holds you... He must die at your hands, my love, as it was meant to be. All the fragmented parts of my soul, the splinters of self that were formed when Voldemort was created, must be destroyed, except for two: The part of my soul that dwells in you and the part that lives in me."

"You want me to destroy the horcruxes - ?" Harry whispered.

Tom nodded.

"But what - what will that do to you? If the horcruxes are destroyed, what will happen to you?"

"Perhaps it will make me more human... Perhaps it will make my soul whole, except for the part of it that will always dwell in you. Please. I need your help. I tried to do it myself, after I had gathered the remaining horcruxes, but I found myself unable to destroy them."

"Where are the horcruxes now? Where did you bring them?"

A smile illuminated Tom's angelic face. "Where do you think, Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment; then he knew. "The Chamber of Secrets, where I first saw you as Tom rather than Voldemort, and where I destroyed the first horcrux..."

Tom nodded and reached for Harry's hand. "Shall we go?"

...

The landscape of night is always different from the familiar daytime one. Night is not just absence of light, thought Harry; it is the presence of something mysterious and haunting that fades in the day. Myrtle's bathroom looked unfamiliar and enchanted at night. The heavy silver faucets gleamed in the moonlight that fell softly through the arched windows, and the white marble was luminous among the shadows. Tom was the one who spoke the password in Parseltongue, and the whispered word, echoing against the stony walls, made Harry shiver. How strangely sweet that word sounded, spoken in Tom's silvery voice...

He felt himself blush under the scrutiny of Tom's glance.

"The sound of Parseltongue turns you on? Really?" Tom sounded amused.

"Mmmhmm."

"I will remember that..." Tom muttered as the snake figure by the sink moved aside. "Shall we?" He motioned to the dark pipe that opened before them. Harry took his hand, and they entered the pipe together.

Harry had expected the chamber to be dark, but found to his surprise that it was lit by flickering torchlight. Tom froze by his side. "Someone's here..."

A figure rose from a heap of blankets in a dark corner and approached them slowly. The golden torchlight fell over his face as he came closer, revealing a pale, handsome face surrounded by long dark curls.

"Sirius!" The joy Harry felt at seeing his godfather again overpowered the momentary stab of superstitious fear, and he flung himself into Sirius' arms. Sirius was alive again! No, not fully alive, perhaps; there was a sense of something empty, something absent - But he was Sirius all the same, and his smile at seeing Harry was real.

Sirius squeezed him so tightly he could hardly breathe. "Harry! I am so sorry, so terribly sorry! I should have been more careful at the ministry - I can't believe I let myself be killed by that bi-" He grinned. "Er... by my cousin," he finished lamely. "Harry, how have you been? I can never forgive myself for abandoning you like that, by doing something as stupid as dying..." He made a wry face that made Harry laugh.

Then Sirius caught sight of Tom. "Oh. I don't think we have met-?"

Tom was silent for a moment, studying Sirius intently. Then he said quietly: "I'm a friend of Harry's. My name... is Tom."

"Sirius-" Harry couldn't take his eyes off his godfather, couldn't really believe that he was here. "Sirius, how can you be here? Dumbledore says someone stole a resurrection stone. Who - who called you back? And why?"

There was a strange light in Sirius' dark eyes as he said softly. "I was wanted..."

"But who-?"

Sirius' glance fell on the tangled pile of blankets in the corner of the chamber. Now Harry noticed the outline of a human form below the covers.

"She is sleeping," said Sirius. "Let her sleep..." There was tenderness in his voice.

"Who-?" Then Harry noticed a strand of long hair that had fallen out from under the blankets and rested on the rough stone floor; its fiery red hue glowed in the warm torchlight.

"Ginny-?" He felt his head spinning. Of course, Ginny had once been brought to the Chamber of Secrets; perhaps she still recollected the password she had heard back then... "But why would she-?"

"Don't you understand?" Sirius' voice was soft. "She wanted me, you see. Enough to call me back from the dead."

"She wanted you? But she is just a young girl..."

These was pity in the glance Sirius gave him. "She is only a year younger than you, Harry. But you never noticed that she became a woman, did you? No one ever noticed that she was no longer a little girl, but a passionate woman filled with thoughts and ideas and desires of her own... She had a crush on you, you know, at first - but you always saw her as a little girl. Then she fell in love with me, and no one noticed. No one saw how she grieved when I died; everyone was busy thinking about your grief. And no one noticed the fierce and terrible determination that grew within her: She swore to find a way to bring me back..."

Harry stared at the lock of flaming hair against the grey stone. No, he had never understood Ginny...

"Are you happy, Sirius?" he whispered. "Do you want to be here? Do you love her?"

"I don't know..." A shadow fell over Sirius' handsome features, a shadow that reminded Harry that Sirius was not, after all, a living man. "Do I love her? Can you love the flame that consumes you? I am obsessed with her, possessed by her desire, haunted by it, and I do not want it to be otherwise. Yes, this must be love, I am certain of it. But somehow I feel that I am no longer me; I am merely a shadow. I am her lover, but can I truly love when I am no longer myself?"

"Oh, Sirius!" Harry hugged him gently.

"Strange, isn't it?" whispered Sirius. "I have heard of the dead haunting the living, but never before of the living haunting the dead..."

He walked over and gathered the sleeping girl in his arms. "I should bring her back to her dormitory." He bent down and kissed the flaming hair with trembling lips, then carried her out of the chamber.

Harry stared after him. "Poor Sirius!" he said quietly.

"You love him..." Tom's whisper was soft by his side.

"Yes, of course I do."

"More than you love me-?" Tom's face was white.

"What-?" It took Harry a moment to understand. "Oh, don't be absurd. It's not the same kind of love; Sirius is like the father I never knew."

"The father you never knew because he was murdered by a dark wizard..." Tom's voice was hoarse.

Harry flung his arms around him. "That part can't be changed, Tom." He pressed his lips to Tom's ear and whispered in Parseltongue: "I love you. I will never love anyone else like this..."

Tom moaned softly. He buried his lips in Harry's hair and murmured: "You know, I had thought you could use a basilisk fang to destroy the horcruxes, but maybe it won't be necessary. Apparently, you have the ability to destroy me simply by speaking in serpent tongue..."

Harry laughed and kissed him gently. "You have a weakness for Parseltongue, too, do you? Come on, Tom. Show me the horcruxes. Let's get to work."

Tom led him silently to a hidden alcove in the chamber. He moved a few basilisk fangs aside and reached in to retrieve a velvet pouch. "Here-"

He opened the pouch and laid the contents on the ground. "Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, and Ravenclaw's diadem."

Harry leaned closer. Something about the ancient artifacts before him pulled at his heart, drew him closer... He reached out and touched the locket, the real one. Tom's soul is in there...

He looked up and met Tom's glance. Tom's expression was hard to read, but Harry thought he detected a flicker of fear in his lover's grey eyes.

"What about Nagini, the serpent?"

"Sleeping, in another part of the chamber. She will not wake until I call her. When you are ready... She will have to be the last."

Harry drew a deep breath. "All right." He sensed Tom shivering next to him as he reached for a basilisk fang.

The locket. First the locket. He lifted the fang above it. Something in his heart screamed; he did not want to do this. Tom's soul - how could he destroy even a fragment of Tom's soul?

I must do it in order to redeem him, another voice whispered in his heart.

"Tom - " He glanced up at Tom's face, so deathly pale now. "Tom, there is something you need to do before I destroy the horcrux. You must tell me how you made it, you must speak of the murder you committed..."

"Tell you-?"

"It's the only way, Tom." Harry was suddenly certain of this.

"All right." Tom's voice trembled. "I made the locket horcrux when I murdered a homeless Muggle. He had done me no harm; he was merely an old man who represented to me, then, the Muggle heritage that I wanted to eradicate from my soul. By murdering him, I destroyed the Muggle half of myself, and I poured a part of my soul into this memento of the pureblood Slytherin..."

"Tell me you name."

Silence. Then: "My name is Tom Riddle. I am my father's son, and I bear his name."

"It is a beautiful name," said Harry softly. Then he raised the basilisk fang and plunged it into Slytherin's silver locket.

A slight cry, as if of pain, escaped Tom's lips. Harry dropped the fang to the ground, next to the shattered locket, and flung his arms around Tom. "Did that hurt you?"

"Yes," whispered Tom against his mouth, "Yes, it was... excruciating... It felt like dying. I wonder if this is how the old Muggle felt when he died."

Harry did not know what to say. Something felt wet against his face; it took him a moment to realize that it was Tom's tears. You are becoming human now, my dark Lord... You have remembered how to weep... Harry kissed the tears gently from his cheeks.

"The cup, Tom. Now tell me about the cup horcrux."

"The cup - " Tom spoke quietly. "I turned the cup into a horcrux when I murdered an old witch named Hepzibah Smith, descendant of Hufflepuff herself. I had charmed and flattered her, and she fell for me, the young Tom Riddle, just like my mother had fallen for another Tom Riddle years ago. Hepzibah was smitten by my good looks, and I despised her for it. Perhaps I saw my mother in her, the desperate witch who had fallen for a handsome young Muggle man. And I saw her foolishness reflected in Hepzibah's eyes, and I wished to kill her for it. But she was not my mother; she was a lonely old woman whose only crime was thirsting for love... And perhaps that was my mother's only crime as well..."

"Do you understand that thirst now, Tom?"

"Oh, God, how can you ask?" Tom clung to him. Harry freed himself gently from the fierce embrace. This time, as he smashed the silver cup with the basilisk fang, there was no cry, just a slight moan. Tom had sunk to the floor now. Harry kissed him softly on the forehead.

"The diadem, Tom."

He had to lean over Tom to hear his soft whisper now: "I murdered an Albanian peasant. This time there was no reason, no desperation in my soul that led me to see someone I hated in my unfortunate victim... This time, it was meaningless. I simply wished to kill someone, anyone, in order to create a horcrux. I felt no hesitation, no regret. I had become less that human, and I no longer felt any emotion when I killed. Afterwards, I could not even recall his face."

"Do you recall it now?"

"Yes. Now I do... Oh, God, the terror in his eyes... I think it will haunt me all my days." Tom shivered. Harry reached out, stroked his hair gently.

"Now call for Nagini, Tom."

Tom swallowed, but nodded. He whispered a quick command in Parseltongue, and for the second time in his life, Harry sensed a large serpentine form gliding toward him in the Chamber of Secrets.

The green serpent slithered out of the shadows. Harry drew his breath; how lovely she looked in the flickering golden light...

"I killed Bertha Jorkins," said Tom hoarsely. "But this time I killed out of fear. She had found out that young Barty Crouch was still alive, and she would have exposed him had I not killed her. And I needed him, my faithful servant, to be my spy inside Hogwarts. I needed him in order to get at you. I needed to kill you, because in my heart I feared that you would fulfill that dreaded prophecy I had been told about, the one that suggested to me, the immortal Voldemort, that I might one day die at the hands of a boy named Harry Potter..."

"Do you still wish to kill me?"

"Oh, Harry, how can you ask?" Tom reached for a basilisk fang and handed it to Harry. "Let the prophecy be fulfilled. It is time for Voldemort to die..."

But as Harry lifted the basilisk fang to strike, the serpent spoke to him in a familiar tongue: "You do not really wish to make him human, do you? If you destroy me, he will be a mere mortal, no longer Voldemort. But is it only the mortal Tom you love? Is there no hidden part of your heart that loves the Dark Lord as well? Is there no part of you that is drawn to the monster?"

What was this dreadful hesitation that filled his heart? Did Nagini speak the truth? Was there a part of him that loved Voldemort as well as Tom?

Harry's glance fell on Tom. He was deathly pale in the flickering torch light, but there was a new expression in his eyes, something vulnerable that made him more beautiful than ever. Something human.

Harry hesitated to longer. He lifted the basilisk fang above his head and struck it into the serpent with all his might. He felt it sink into her flesh, and with a rapid motion he ripped the head off the snake.

This time, he was the one who fell to the floor, and it was Tom's arms that lifted him gently up. The kiss that was pressed against his lips was soft, trembling, warm. Human. Deliciously human...

"Come now," said Tom gently. "It's time to go." He looked around at the shattered horcruxes, including the beheaded serpent. "I suppose we should bring these... trinkets with us."

"I suppose," said Harry, his voice still shaking. "Perhaps I should bring them to Dumbledore tomorrow. Don't you think he would be pleased if I bring him a box of horcruxes?"

Tom laughed. "I wouldn't be so certain of that if I were you. But it's not yet tomorrow, my love. Let's go back to Gryffindor Tower. I need to be with you." A sudden mischievous smile lit up his face. "And human or not, I still know how to speak Parseltongue. It can be a rather suggestive language, you know..."