Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! Updates will be posted about once a week.

Chapter 2

A great feeling of contentment had stolen over Harry, and he slept peacefully for once. That is, until a wrenching sensation came over him, and he found his awareness being pulled away from his sleeping body at Hogwarts to another place--somewhere far away—joining with the consciousness of the man his mind was inexorably linked with, the Dark Lord Voldemort.

This vision wasn't quite like the other visions he'd had of Voldemort. For one thing, they usually only happened when the man was feeling some particularly strong emotion. As far as Harry could tell, Voldemort was simply sitting in an armchair reading a book; though from his perspective, Harry was unable to see the man's face. That led to the second difference. His visions used to take place from a first person perspective with Harry seeing through Voldemort's eyes, or the eyes of Voldemort's snake, Nagini. Now he was looking at Voldemort. Harry considered that for a moment, wondering if it had anything to do with Voldemort's possession of him last June. Perhaps that had opened the link between their minds further, or changed the nature of it somehow. Then Voldemort seemed to notice his presence, and looked up from his book, and Harry got an even bigger surprise.

Voldemort was no longer the nightmarish, half-human apparition he'd been the last time Harry saw him. Gone were the bald skull, the paper-thin, ghostly pale, scaly skin, and the slitted nostrils. In their place were glossy black hair, trimmed neatly, skin that was still pale, but no longer sickly, and a strong aquiline nose. The lips were no longer thin, but rather full, and slightly pink. The skeletal spidery fingers were replaced by strong, masculine hands. All in all, Voldemort was no longer the man Harry saw emerge from the cauldron that fateful night, but the boy he saw emerge from the diary, only a few years older. All except for the eyes. Tom Riddle's had been a cerulean blue, but this man's eyes were scarlet. They were the colour of garnets, Harry thought, or maybe rubies, like the ones used to keep track of Gryffindor's house points. Harry was lost in those eyes, mesmerized by their depths. There was something terribly familiar there, and while deep down, Harry knew he should be afraid and angry, he couldn't find those emotions anywhere in his mind. He felt nothing but awe and attraction, like he had found something he'd been looking for all his life. The man in front of him was his life, his everything. He'd do anything for this man.

"Voldemort," he whispered, his tone reverent and worshipful.

Lord Voldemort, for his part, was thoroughly astonished. He also knew that Potter usually only saw visions when his emotions were running high, and he knew for a fact that he'd been perfectly calm just before Potter appeared. Not to mention the fact that Potter had never appeared in front of him before. He'd have to look into that, later. He frowned slightly. Why wasn't Potter screaming, yelling, or at least trying to get away? Why on earth would Potter be looking at him like that? Lord Voldemort had seen enough looks of pure attraction and mindless devotion to know one when he saw it, but there was no way Potter would ever look at him like that. They were enemies, Potter hated him and it was more than mutual. Lord Voldemort heard Harry whisper his name, and realized instantly that something funny had to be going on. He decided not to waste his time asking the boy any questions, and go straight to the source. He looked back into Potter's eyes, using the eye contact to search through Potter's mind. And what he found intrigued him. Potter was under the influence of a love potion. Not Amortentia, of course, that potion caused an infatuation for the maker of the potion, and Lord Voldemort certainly hadn't been making any for Harry. Amortentia also made the victim act like a total idiot, with loud proclamations of love and a complete inability to function in any sort of normal capacity.

That made it seem like an even more ridiculous idea to Lord Voldemort, but then one who used a love potion usually didn't desire their target for their personality anyway. But the potion used on Potter was one that was weaker, but also far more subtle. It would cause a powerful infatuation with the first person one saw after drinking it. Apparently, Potter must have somehow ingested the potion just before falling asleep. An evil smile came over Voldemort's face. This could be a very useful development. Potter's body here was simply an illusion, a solid one, yes, but he still could not attack it. The same could not be said for the boy's mind. He quickly Obliviated Potter's memory of receiving and eating the spiked chocolate cauldrons.

"Harry," he said, putting on one of his most charming smiles. "I'm so glad you've come to see me."

"You are?" Harry said. "I mean—I didn't think you liked me very much—and you're Him, and I mean, I'm glad to see you, although I'm not sure why, but maybe it's because you're so handsome now—not that you were ugly before! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest that, you were just different, not ugly, and anyway, I'm glad to see you too."

Tom chuckled. This was going to be so easy. "Would you like to sit down?" he asked, gesturing to a black suede armchair, the twin of the one he was sitting in. "I think we have much to discuss."

Harry made his way to the armchair, but he was so focused on staring at Voldemort that he wasn't watching his feet, and stumbled over a coffee table. "Sorry," he mumbled, as he managed to get himself into the offered chair.

"No matter," Tom said. "Now, I think you are likely wondering how I regained my youthful appearance."

"Well, yes," Harry said shyly. "You're the most handsome person I've ever seen—you're even more handsome than when I met you in the Chamber of Secrets, and I thought you were too handsome to be real then."

This statement caused Lord Voldemort to raise his eyebrows internally. The love potion would not have caused Harry to be physically attracted to him initially, which meant that Harry actually did find him attractive when they met in the Chamber. How interesting…

"Let me explain, then. I trust Dumbledore has by now informed you about my Horcruxes?"

"Whore-whatses?! You're not seeing any whores, are you?!"

"Hmm, I suppose not then. That's somewhat surprising. Has he even told you about the prophecy?"

"He has," Harry said softly. "But I can't tell anyone what it says, not even Ron or Hermione, not even you."

"We'll discuss that another time. Back to the subject at hand, a Horcrux—H-O-R-C-R-U-X-- is a way for a wizard to ensure his own immortality."

"Like the Philosopher's Stone? But how does it work?"

"A wizard, and mind this will only work for a powerful wizard, prepares a special object to hold a piece of his soul. He then commits a murder in cold blood. This action splits the soul in two, and the wizard then puts one of the pieces into the prepared object. This object is now a Horcrux, and it keeps the soul anchored in this plane of existence. Thus, even if the wizard's body is killed, his soul does not depart, and therefore he cannot truly be killed."

"I'm very glad that you can't ever be killed. I wish you hadn't killed someone, though."

Voldemort shrugged. "Their sacrifice was necessary. I honour their deaths." That last was a lie, of course, but it would placate Harry somewhat.

"If you didn't have Horcruxes, you would have died that night in Godric's Hollow, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Voldemort said simply.

"Then I'm glad you had them. I wouldn't want you to be dead."

Then Harry's face took on a rueful expression. "Are you mad at me for what happened that night?"

"No." That was an even bigger lie.

"You are. I can tell. My scar doesn't hurt as much as it used to, but it still hurts when you're close to me and really angry, you know. I didn't mean to do it. I had no idea it would happen, I mean, I was just a baby, I didn't have any control over it. I've spent the past five years telling people that, but you--you were there, I thought you at least would know. You're way too powerful to actually be defeated by a baby. I'm sorry for what happened, but it really wasn't my fault."

Tom forced himself to calm down. His anger would not serve him now, and he could allow himself to feel it later. "It is...all right now. I was prepared for the possibility, and so the worst was prevented."

Harry smiled. "So the Horcruxes kept you from dying, even though you were hit with a killing curse. What do they have to do with how you look?"

"I made my first Horcrux when I was 16 years old. That was the diary that possessed Ginny Weasely, and that you battled in the Chamber of Secrets—"

"Oh my goodness!" Harry interrupted. "I killed a part of your soul! I'm so, so sorry, I swear I didn't know what it was, I never would have done it if I'd known, oh, I'm sorry, so sorry—"

"Enough! This conversation will never go anywhere if we keep stopping to apologize for every wrong we've done to each other." Of course, Harry was the only one apologizing, but Lord Voldemort was hardly going to point that out.

"You're right, of course. You're so brilliant! You're always right, and I'll never be as smart as you are."

"That's true. Though you are not exactly stupid, yourself. Back to the point, I made my second Horcrux when I was 19 years old. This one was made from an heirloom locket necklace, a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Therefore the piece of soul in the locket remained 19 years old, as it was not within my aging body."

Voldemort paused for a moment to take a sip of his drink. Harry couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it looked like some sort of alcohol. Voldemort noticed Harry looking at his drink. "I'd offer you something, but as you aren't really physically here, I'm afraid I can't."

"That's all right. But, about the locket Horcrux, it sounds like you're going to say that your 19 year old soul re-entered your body, making you look 19 again. Doesn't that mean that you no longer have that Horcrux?"

"Very good, Harry. That's correct. The Horcrux I made from Slytherin's locket indeed no longer exists. It used to be kept in a cave, a cave by the seaside, protected by all sorts of spells and enchantments. I thought it would be inviolable, but I was proven wrong. A few months ago, the wards alerted me to someone breaking into the cave. I apparated there immediately, and found a man there attempting to destroy the Horcrux. I incapacitated and bound him instantly, of course, but I was too late. The Horcrux was not, fortunately, destroyed entirely, but it was irreparably damaged. The only way to save that piece of my soul was to take it into my body. The man who attempted to destroy it was an agent of the Order of the Phoenix. He did not admit that readily, but I tortured him until he told me everything he knew. From him I learned that Dumbledore knows something of my Horcruxes. He will likely tell you about them soon. Remember to act surprised."

"With two Horcruxes destroyed, does that mean you could die now?" Harry looked terrified at the thought.

"Not at all," Voldemort said confidently. "I am still well safeguarded against mortality."

"How many Horcruxes do you have?"

"Enough. Do not worry about me."

"Can I ask you one more thing?" Harry said quietly.

"You may ask, though I will not guarantee an answer."

"You've tried to kill me before. I think we're supposed to be enemies. Why aren't you attacking me?"

"At this moment, your physical body is still several hundred miles away from me. The physical form you have here is an illusion, albeit a solid illusion, but as I mentioned, you are unable to consume anything, and I am unable to harm you." Well, not your body anyway, Voldemort thought.

"Is that the only reason?"

"No, it is not the only reason."

"What other reason or reasons do you have?"

"Perhaps I will tell you another time. Right now, I think it's time for your awareness to be returning to your bed in Hogwarts. Your alarm will be ringing in about ten minutes, and I doubt you would like to cause your roommates undue panic when they are unable to wake you."

"But I don't want to leave you!"

"I know, but it is necessary. You must have your education, after all."

"If you say so. When will I see you again?"

"Soon. Within two weeks, I'm sure."

"Two whole weeks?"

"We are both busy, and we cannot arouse suspicion by meeting too frequently."

"But why would it matter if anyone suspected?"

"Dumbledore does not want us to be together. He will stop at nothing to keep us apart. You must be very careful not to speak of this to anyone. Dumbledore has eyes and ears everywhere at Hogwarts, and if he has even the slightest suspicion, he will make sure that we do not ever see each other again. He would try to kill me, and he might try to kill you, too. And do not ever look into his eyes. You know of Legilimency, and you know that Dumbledore is a master of the art, though of course not as gifted as myself. Guard yourself around Snape, as well. His loyalty is ultimately mine, but his grudge against you could lead him to do something foolish."

"I'll keep it a secret. I won't tell anyone, or allow anyone to find out. I promise you, Lord Voldemort."

"You will also have to pretend to hate me."

"What? Why!?"

"You know of my reputation in the wizarding community. If you do not pretend to share that opinion, you will be suspected."

"All right then. I can pretend. But why does everyone hate you so much?"

"I am great. Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite festers into hate."

"Oh. Like Ron, when he thought I'd put my own name in the Goblet of Fire."

"Exactly," he said, though he actually had no real idea what Harry was talking about. "Remember, be cautious. If Dumbledore talks to you, remember everything he says so that you may tell me. And Harry…"

"Yes?"

"You may call me Tom." And with that, the Dark Lord gently nudged Harry Potter's consciousness back to where it rightfully belonged.