What Do We Fight For?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything in them belongs to the wonderful J.K Rowling!

A/N: Sorry for the wait, and thank you to all those that fav/followed/reviewed. Exams are over... I can't quite believe it but they are.

If anyone is wondering whether this will be a slash between Harry and Tom I am not yet sure... For obvious reasons, at the moment I just can't see it happening but I might make it so in the future. If it does turn into a slash however it obviously won't be the main aspect of this fan fiction as this is mainly focusing on the sort of friendship between the two characters and a slash won't be happening anytime in the near future as Harry is well, six.


Chapter 6:

Once inside, Harry swiftly closed the door behind him. No need for anyone to see the open door and investigate. Riddle's room was... Spotless. It seemed tidier than Harry's own room and he owned next to nothing... in fact, the only thing he owned at this current moment in time was his uniform and even then, he wouldn't really call that his.

Not wanting to be in there for any longer than he could help, Harry began his search, hoping to find the book as soon as possible and leave before Riddle got back. It didn't take long. Almost immediately Harry spotted a book lying innocently on the stand next to Riddle's bed and he wasn't sure whether to be suspicious or not. The title: 'Soul Bonds,' was staring up at him, just inviting him to take it. Maybe it was too easy but Harry suspected it was more to do with the fact that Riddle didn't believe anyone would enter his room.

Reaching down and cautiously grasping the book in his hands he grinned triumphantly. The moment was soon ruined however for just then, the door shot open and a furious Riddle was staring directly at him.

"What are you doing in my room!?"

Harry took the split second he had to hide the book behind his back. Riddle sounded absolutely beside himself with rage and shock and Harry had a feeling he wouldn't be able to get out of this.

Standing up straighter Harry didn't reply, just stared at Riddle with an innocent expression on his face.

"Answer me."

Harry offered the other boy a shrug, his focus on the book clutched in his hands that was currently hidden from Riddle's view though he knew it was only a matter of time. As if hearing his thoughts Riddle paused, eyeing the spot where his arms disappeared. "What are you hiding?" Suspicion and anger laced his voice and magic crackled around them, dangerous and wild yet at the same time restrained and cool.

"This." Harry whipped the book out from behind and Riddle was granted full view to the cover. A cover that was disillusioned to show nothing more than the title to a fairytale book.

Riddle paused, frowning in slight confusion and Harry flashed him a fake smile. "Who knew the great Tom Riddle liked to read fairytales in his spare time."

"That's not mine." Riddle replied simply, his face strangely blank as he stared at the book.

Harry only responded with a bored shrug, mind racing as he came up with ideas. "I saw someone leaving your room." Was all he said, staring intensely at Riddle even as his scar started to sting painfully.

Riddle was immediately alert, eyes sharpening, "Who?" He asked forcefully, when Harry didn't immediately reply he took a step closer, "Who?" He repeated, eyes just daring Harry to ignore him.

Harry only raised an eyebrow, "I don't know their name."

"Well what did they look like?" Riddle demanded, voice impatient.

Taking a moment to consider Harry ended up shrugging once again, "Average."

Riddle stared at him in frustration, as though he couldn't quiet believe someone could be so… odd.

"Get out." He said quietly and Harry paused, wondering if the teenager was joking or not. Seeing that Harry had not so much as moved a muscle Tom snapped his eyes to Harry's, "Get out. And if you ever come into my room again I will slowly peel your flesh off of your bones and turn you into soup."

Lips curling upwards slightly at the threat, Harry walked purposely slowly to the door aware of the dark eyes that followed his every move. Once he was back in his own room Harry stared at the book in his hands and allowed the illusion to fall away, a slight grin on his face. The grin dropped however when he went to open the book and nothing happened, insteadhis hands just pried uselessly at the cover that refused to budge.

Frowning and wondering if Riddle had cast some kind of locking charm on it Harry wished badly that he could be in a mature body and had a wand. Maybe then he could actually work on undoing whatever magic had been placed upon the ancient tome. As it was he felt practically useless.

Glaring at the cover he tried speaking at it in parseltongue as the idea came to him but nothing.

Stupid magical books! Muggle books didn't have these problems. Why wouldn't it open? What did it want!?

Huffing in frustration Harry stood up and dropped the offensive object carelessly on the wooden top. His thoughts then drifted, it was a new, probably boring day and he decided that he couldn't just sit there however he also realised that he wouldn't be able to simply leave the book lying around in case Riddle came searching for it.

And so Harry dropped to his knees, fingers feeling for even a slightly loose floorboard and when one sank somewhat from the pressure, he attempted to pry it up. Sending a burst of magic to his fingers when the muggle method failed to have any effect apart from breaking the skin around his nails, and Harry managed to successfully slip the book under. He then replaced the wood, leaving the tiniest of scratches from his fingernail to avoid having to dig up his entire floor later.


It was when he entered the dining room that he noticed it. At first glance, there wasn't really anything off, save for the empty corner of the room that occupied only one person but as soon as Harry's eyes fell on another table he saw it.

Mr Jerome sat on his chair, to all the world looking calm and normal as he held an open bible in his hands, but upon closer inspection Harry realised that while his hands were turning the pages every so often, his eyes were miles away from the words on the page.

Instead they were staring right at Riddle.

Harry could remember his meeting with the man but this time there was something extra in his gaze… something more than the look of a man who believed Tom to be the embodiment of all things evil and suddenly Harry just knew he was hiding something. Because not only did his eyes hold a hundred secrets, but the bible he was holding in hands that didn't grasp it with devotion or reverence… was completely unmarred, new, pages unturned.

Green eyes narrowed suspiciously and as though he had felt the burning gaze Jerome turned his head towards Harry, cool brown eyes catching his. Upon seeing who it was the man smiled benevolently at him and yet Harry instincts screamed at him that it was fake. Everything about this man was fake and suddenly Harry got the distinct impression that he should not, under any circumstances, underestimate him.

A pale hand then beckoned Harry to him, momentarily leaving the pristine looking bible and Harry started a slow walk toward him, mind calculating. He had to act as though everything was normal, he realised. He could not tip the man that he suspected him of… something. Not unless Harry wished to lose that advantage.

"Harry." Jerome said softly once he was a few feet away from the table, an amiable look upon his face. "Care to join me?"

"Not really." Came his blunt reply.

Jerome blinked, a small frown creasing between his eyebrows and his mouth opened once more. Before he could utter another word however, Harry spoke, effectively cutting off whatever he was about to say. "Was there a reason you want to see me? Sir?"

"I-," His eyes briefly glanced in Riddle's direction and, following his gaze, Harry saw said boy staring intensely at them, an almost curious look on his face.

The tall man cleared his throat, "No… no particular reason Mr Potter."

Taking that as an affirmative to leave, Harry collected his food with one last glance at the supposedly religious man and took his normal seat opposite Riddle who's eyes had been relentlessly following him.

"What did that fool want?"

Harry paused, glancing up to find Riddle had transferred his crisp stare from him to Jerome, something like suspicion burning at the edges of his gaze.

"He just wanted me to sit with him." Harry replied simply and Riddle frowned.

"Why?"

A shrug, "Guess he felt lonely."

Riddle scoffed, turning back to the small boy with his eyes narrowed. "You know, I'm curious." He started and Harry tensed slightly at the offhand manner he spoke with. "Last night in the kitchen. You were there," Riddle paused, dark eyes searing into his and just daring him to try and deny what he was about to say, "… and then you weren't." He leant forward ever so slightly, voice darkening, "So tell me, how does someone like you manage to do that? Better yet… how did you get into my room and steal my book without me noticing?"

Unblinking black orbs stared into bright green, eyes that gazed back unflinchingly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Riddle's jaw twitched ever so slightly. "Don't lie to me."

"I thought that book wasn't yours?" Harry said sarcastically, a small grin on his face.

"Don't play dumb, there was a book on my stand that's now gone and I want it back. "

Harry cocked his head to the side, he could simply continue on with his facade but why not have a little fun? "What would I get in return?"

Riddle paused, staring at him in disbelief. "How about I won't kill you."

Harry merely grinned, "Oh come on. You can do better than that."

Suddenly Riddle's arm shot out, grabbing Harry's thin wrist. "Trust me Harry, I can do much worse."

"I'm sure you could." Harry replied, staring down at the hand wrapped around his joint. "But unless I get something out of it, the book remains hidden."

Riddle scoffed, withdrawing his hand and staring contemptuously at Harry. "Can you even read?" And Harry was reminded that he currently looked like a six year old. Hard to be taken seriously looking like he did he supposed.

"If you don't tell me where the book is I will simply tear your room apart until I find it." Riddle said calmly, looking bored with the conversation.

"Great plan. Only it would have to be in my room for it to work." Harry smirked, "Now if you want to rip the whole building apart… be my guest."

Riddle's eyes darkened, "One day I will burn this disgusting wreck to the ground." His voice burned with conviction and loathing and Harry was left no doubt that Riddle despised this place with a passion.

"Aren't you a bundle of sunshine." Harry muttered, taking a bite of his toast before standing up and leaving the rest of his tray unfinished. Walking away Harry half expected Riddle to either attempt to stop or follow him. He did neither however and Harry was free to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, unaware of the plan currently stewing the the future Dark Lord's brain.

He frowned at the fatigue apparating brought with it and took a moment to himself, thinking about his future while he did so. Currently it looked like he would be staying here, in this time and he was perfectly okay with that. Why would he want to go back? But he didn't want to stay in that orphanage for the next 10 or so years. After all, once Riddle was gone so was his entertainment and after this summer the young Dark Lord was likely never coming back. Well apart from to burn it to the ground if he stood by his words and Harry was certain he would. So… what?

Attend Hogwarts maybe? When had everything gotten so predictable.

Harry stared absently at the floor, unaware that he had been standing in the middle of the room for a couple minutes until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Are you quite alright my dear boy?"

Shoulders tensed slightly and Harry lifted his head up to stare at the man before him, matching voice to face.

"I'm fine." He said candidly, unable to believe that he had picked the exact moment Dumbledore would just happen to be passing through.

Blue eyes gazed at him sincerely, twinkling with what looked to be genuine concern. "You have been standing there for some time. Myself and several others were beginning to worry that you were, perhaps, lost?"

It was sweet in a way, Harry supposed, that strangers were concerned for him but their worry would only succeed in causing him trouble. "I'm just waiting for my parents." Harry answered calmly, hoping his six year old guise would act in his favour at this time and not impede him. Then he looked around, pretending to search for them. "Actually I think I was supposed to meet them out the front. Thank you for your concern though sir."

Before the slightly younger old man could say anything more, Harry had darted out of the pub and into the midday London air. He wasn't really sure why he had apparated to the wizard inn. It just happened to be the first place he had thought of because there was nowhere else to go.

He sighed, staring blankly ahead as the rush of people going about their everyday business greeted his sight. They were all so… normal. So predictable. How had he ever wanted a normal life? How had he ever believed he could get one?

Absently he started putting one foot in front of the other, walking, trying to move forwards. But all paths seemed to lead to the same destination. That's what he had learnt over his lives. Because each time he had tried to do it differently, believing that perhaps, to stay dead, he simply had to do a life right. But what was right… that remained lost.


Harry spent the day exploring London, looking at everything that was different simply because he could. When the sun had finally fallen from the sky and the world around was shrouded in darkness Harry arrived back at the orphanage, appearing in his room.

What greeted him he wasn't ashamed to say surprised him. Bed flipped over, walls cracked and peeled, floorboards ripped up and splintered.

'I will simply tear your room apart until I find it.'

Harry might have laughed had it not meant he had lost the book. Eyeing the destruction of his room Harry knew it could only have been caused by magic, he couldn't imagine Riddle getting his hands dirty by doing things the muggle way but the question was, had the ministry noticed? He doubted Riddle would be so sloppy to have allowed some way for it to be traced to him however. He could only assume as well that the devastation Riddle had caused was some form of revenge, some way to make Harry fear him even if it was in vain.

With a sigh of resignation Harry lifted his mattress back onto the metal framed bed once he had pulled it off it's side and lay down. Tomorrow he would confront Riddle in what he hoped would be an interesting conversation. Tomorrow he would worry about getting the book back but for now, for now he decided to just sleep, escape into unconsciousness.


Harry lay there, still as stone, eyes fixed on the blank ceiling as he considered what he was about to do. He was about to take that step, give in to the temptation that had been clawing at him for years now.

Sitting up from his position on the plush couch the room of requirement had supplied for him, Harry watched as several training dummies suddenly appeared out of thin air. Glancing sideways for a final reminder of the spell in the tome he'd found, Harry stood, flexing his wrist and causing his beloved wand to shoot into his hand, moulding into his palm as though it had always been a part of him.

Aiming it at one of the dummies, he whispered the spell, feeling the totally different type of magic rush through him, intoxicating him. The blue light swirled out but he barely noticed, instead letting out a gasp as the magic engulfed him, drowning him in it's sparks of energy. It felt so different, so entirely new and dangerous and enticing and it left him not knowing which way was up. He could loose himself in the pure bliss of the exhilarating rush of darkness that spread through his veins leaving them full of dancing flames. And maybe Harry enjoyed it just a bit too much. Maybe he liked how it made him feel so powerful, so strong. It was a drug.

And Harry was addicted.


Green eyes slowly opened and focused. Harry simply lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling to his room that had managed to avoid the demolition much like he had done in his dream. It was strange he thought, to suddenly start having dreams of important moments in his lives. The moments that had changed and shaped him into the monster he was today. Because Harry knew he was a monster. There was no other option really. He could feel no regret or remorse, no sadness or guilt. And sometimes he enjoyed the torture he could cause even though he knew it was wrong. Though maybe that was his problem. Because he generally knew the difference between right and wrong. He just didn't care.

The world had left him empty, sucked him dry leaving him nothing more than a hollow shell. It was because of this that he did what he did, just to feel alive. A small part, the old part, knew that he should hate what he had become but the new him just couldn't bring himself to care. Why should he?

What had they done for him? The muggles had ruined him, taking everything he knew and held dear and destroyed it. The wizarding world wasn't much better. They treated him as a tool, a toy to be used and moulded and placed all their expectations on him. Had anyone truly cared about him? The real him? He wasn't so sure any more.

He had long since realised that he owed nothing to anybody. Not to the wizarding world and certainly not to the muggles. He supposed he felt trapped, alone. Because no matter what he did, no matter who he met or how he acted he would always start back at the beginning again. Everything lost and wasted. So why bother? And even if he tried, he doubted he could. He was too dead inside. It was too late.


A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter... I am placing the dreams in there to better understand Harry's character and how he came to be as he is now and also to explain the different ways his lives went