A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lily Short Stuff Uchiha for completing the Tumblr Challenge! Congrats!

For more informations on my Challenges and their rewards, check out the bio section of my profile.

Enjoy!

Harry was sitting on his living room couch, concentrating. He was trying to see if, with enough focus, he could simply see the world around him through the 'other' Harry's eyes, rather than watching it all on the television in front of him. Thus far, he was only able to do it for short bursts of time, catching a second or two at the most.

He also wanted to learn how to look back on old memories. Because of his preoccupation with Tom, he had completely missed out on his own wanding, and his original exposure to the wizarding world – which neither he or Evan were pleased about.

Apparently, Evan and Lucius had a bet going on whether or not Harry's wand core would be dragon-heartstring or mane of thestral, but Harry didn't care either way about that. He just wanted to see if he'd be able to feel it. At times, he found himself rather overwhelmed with trickles of the 'other' Harry's emotions, and he knew that holding the perfect wand for the first time was supposed to be something very powerful, and he wanted the experience.

However, there was a scent on the air that was distracting him.

"Evan, couldn't you possibly make that potion somewhere else?" He pleaded, not for the first time.

"What, and miss the sorting? I think not."

Harry huffed in annoyance. Evan had hardly even been back for a full two hours and he was already annoying. "We're not even off the train! I'll let you know when the sorting's about to begin, but please the stench is unbearable!"

Evan ignored Harry, and the child glared silently at him for a moment longer before focusing back on his task. Concentrating hard, he closed his eyes and was greeted with a flash of the boy, Ronald, who he was sitting with, and another person – a girl, who had just entered their compartment. He took in the sight of her bushy hair and big teeth for ten seconds at the most before he caught a whiff of something that smelled like human flesh burning and was propelled forcefully back into his own headspace, and made to see her through the television instead.

He stood up and stomped over to Evan, who was, indeed, holding out a severed thumb over a flame, and smacked the cauldron onto the floor. Its contents spilled slowly, oozing deep into the carpet that the real world Petunia had always kept so well-manicured.

Evan's eyes met his coolly, and betrayed none of his actual emotions. They rarely did. Harry's own eyes stared right back, meeting Evan's cloudy gray threat of lurking insanity with his own sharp green promise of death. Evan hadn't entirely noticed until then that Harry's eyes were the exact color of the killing curse. He didn't let it disturb him, though – knowing that his own 'windows to the soul' weren't any less violent.

"Clean it up," He demanded, not even looking at the potion – now bubbling and sputtering into the kitchen as if moving with a mind of its own.

He was still holding the thumb in his left hand, and Harry's only response to Evan's words was to smack that away as well and go back to his position in front of the TV.

"Do you know how difficult it is to acquire the right thumb of a dying virgin?" Evan asked, with irritation.

"I ought to," Harry hissed out, "It's my mind that fetched it for you, after all. Stop using my magical core to make your potions for a minute and let me do what I'm doing! My head can't keep up your illusions and focus at the same time!"

Evan agreed, with a grimace, and vanished the remains of his would-be draught, sitting on the couch beside Harry to see what all the fuss was about. They were silent for a while, listening to the 'other' Harry's conversation with the redheaded boy.

Evan broke the silence, of course, "Blood-traitor," He spat out, sneering at the child who couldn't even see him.

"He's a Weasley," Harry responded, calmly, "His blood is just as pure as yours, and twice as pure as mine."

"The Weasley's," Evan began, "Are always fraternizing with Muggles. Especially this boy's father. He adores them. They refused service to the dark-lord, and tainted the Black family with their traitorous blood." He said matter-of-factly, with a firm nod of the head.

"Not serving the dark lord doesn't make you a bad person," Harry argued, cutting his eyes over to Evan, "I know that I'm still young and impressionable, but my understanding of the world thus far is that all people are created equally and shouldn't be judged for anything that was not their choice. The Dursley's hate me for my blood, and it won't be productive for me to hate them back for theirs. You can't fight fire with fire, Evan. And even if you're right and purebloods are superior in class, that still doesn't mean Ronald Weasley is any less of a decent kid than Draco Malfoy."

Evan snorted. "You can fight fire with fiendfyre," he said, seriously, "And Muggles can't even produce it."

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that with someone like Evan this wasn't a fight he'd ever win. Deciding not to bother with such a useless conversation, he went back to his attempts at seeing through the 'other' Harry's eyes. He had a great deal more success this time, and managed to see clearly as he got his first ever view of Hogwarts castle. It was a sight that he would never forget, and he adored it instantly, hoping that the other part of himself was just as determined as he was to explore every single inch of such a wondrous place.

He settled himself experimentally within the other half of his mind, looking through his body's eyes and hearing the 'other' Harry's thoughts just as clearly as his own, though they felt somewhat foreign in his head. He wondered if 'other' Harry could sense him here, but it seemed not.

Draco Malfoy was talking to him, and he observed quietly, making no attempt to sway the 'other' Harry's decision making when he denied the boys friendship, already loyal to the Weasley child he'd met on the train. Perhaps there would be a moment where he'd want to possess himself, but this was not that moment.

He watched attentively as Draco was sorted into Slytherin, and was bombarded with a fascinating phenomenon. He could feel his own emotions, humor, lack of surprise, and anticipation for his own sorting. He could also feel Evan's though – pride, and … concern. Almost like fear. He wondered why Evan was worried about Draco being in Slytherin, but let it pass. He could also feel the 'other' Harry's emotions though, and wanted to mentally frown at the sheer resolve and determination radiating through his mind. Looked like their plan was going to work after all – 'other' Harry was definitely going to end up in another house.

When the sorting hat was placed atop his head more voices were added into the madness.

"Hmm, difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. … So where shall I put you?"

Screaming much louder than the small murmuring of the hat, was the 'other' Harry. A horrified mantra of 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin,' was pulsing violently through him.

He ignored the hat's disagreements, and exhaled in relief when the house declared him to be a Gryffindor. Deciding that he'd seen enough for now, Harry retreated into the proper side of his head, gasping from exhaustion. He didn't realize how difficult it had been to stay on the other half for so long.

Evan was grinning when his eyes snapped open, and he rolled his eyes.

"Did you hear that? You're a Slytherin!" He said, excitedly, lifting the boy from the floor and swinging him around.

"I'm a Gryffindor," Harry argued, lamely.

"Yes, but manipulating your way out of being in Slytherin really only affirms the validity of the hat's original decision, don't you think?"

Harry frowned, not thinking so at all, and gasped when he looked over Evan's shoulder.

"I wouldn't exactly call hollering 'no' repeatedly like an infant a proper definition of manipulation."

Evan's head snapped around, staring at the man who had spoken. Had looked at him for maybe all of two milliseconds before his knees seemed to automatically buckle beneath him so that he was kneeling on the ground with his head bowed. Harry was confused, not understanding that reaction unless-

"Hold on a second, you're not-"

"Of course not," Tom said, looking properly horrified. Harry raised an eyebrow, not quite believing the man and knowing that if the man was who it would appear he was, it would definitely explain why he was always so hesitant to be in the same room with Evan. "Could you give me a private moment with Rosier, Harry?" He asked kindly, his smile looking much too authentic for someone as cold as Harry knew him to be.

"Sure," Harry allowed, stepping over Evan as he exited the room, as the man's forehead was still firmly planted on the ground.

At first he wanted to go outdoors to his and Tom's amusement park, but then he re-thought it, realizing that he'd never journeyed upstairs. In a curious mood, he walked up the steps, taking them slowly, and not knowing what to expect.

XxBxExLxOxVxExDxX

"Rise," Voldemort said, gently. Watching with an expression that displayed utter disinterest as Evan stood up. He stepped forward, and ran his hands over Evan's face, his fingers touching dampness against the man's cheeks.

"You would weep, just from the sight of me," He commented, "And yet you did not see fit to extract my soul the very essence of myself, from the body of my worst enemy." He hissed out, deathly calm, not a hint of emotion behind his words.

Rosier's head remained bowed, not meeting his master's eyes. Voldemort examined him closely, orbiting him in a perfect circle. He stepped up to Evan's back, nearly pressing himself against it. They were hardly an inch apart, and he could feel Evan's warmth radiating against his cold blood.

He placed his hands against the other man's body, one between the blades of is back, and one atop his shoulder.

"My, my," He mused, "Look at that proud pureblood posture," He took another step closer, inhaling the scent of Evan's neck. "Absolute perfection," He remarked, stepping back.

"Face me," He requested, and Evan turned around. "You would straighten your back, and still bow your head. You always were quite…" He paused mulling over the word he wanted to use, and lifted Evan's chin, gazing delightedly into those vicious eyes. They were fascinating in submission. "Exquisite," He finished.

"By all means, speak if you wish to." He insisted, noticing the slight twitching of Evan's lips.

As he opened his mouth, he lowered his eyes again.

"No, no. Look at me properly." He insisted, and Evan exhaled heavily as his eyes connected with his Lord's red ones. "Now, speak."

"I thank you, My Lord," He breathed out, "I thought the boy might prove to be of service to you. Your body was destroyed, sir – I did not know how to revive you without it, using just the child."

He obediently didn't look away from Voldemort's eyes as he spoke, nearly moaning in pleasure as he felt the familiar abrasive caress of the Dark Lord's legilimency checking the truth of his words.

He knew, by the simple fact that he was not cursed, that Voldemort believed him.

"Why did you not inform me of your own Horcrux?" Voldemort asked, "You could still have been of use to me after your death. Did you not consider that I still required your services?"

"I feared you would not permit any other than yourself to be gifted with eternal life, My Lord," Evan answered, finding it hard not to look away with shame at having displeased his master. "I know it was wrong not to tell you, and I apologize."

Voldemort leaned in close, finally breaking the intense eye contact. His breath was cool against Evan's ear. Evan could feel a wand prodding firmly against his ribcage. Softly, the Dark Lord whispered: "Crucio,"

Evan's first response to the dreaded curse was a loud moan, that quickly transformed itself into a scream. It was a terrible shriek, insane and disturbed. It twisted through the air and stabbed sharply against one's ear but if you listened closely enough – you might catch the faintest hint of gleeful laughter beneath.

It ended almost as soon as it began, Voldemort having been distracted by something on the television.

"Rosier,"

"My Lord?" Evan responded hoarsely, lying flat on the ground and panting for his breath.

"The man in the turban." Voldemort said, his eyes flashing with something unidentifiable, "Who is he?"

Evan glanced at the TV and looked back up at the man standing over him. "Quirinus Quirrell. He has assured Lucius that he is loyal to the cause, and thus the board has granted him a position of defense at Hogwarts, since Snape seems to be so far undercover that he can't even answer his fucking post for Merlin's sake. We do need some eyes and ears at the school, after all."

Voldemort nodded slowly, and sat down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. "What made Lucius believe him? He does not carry my mark on his arm."

Evan shrugged, "I suppose Lucius can't be completely sure, but it's not as if it'll hurt any if he's not truly loyal anyway."

Rosier tried to look away when Voldemort glanced down, but he wasn't quick enough, and the Dark Lord saw him.

"I have not forgotten your services to me, Evan Rosier," He remarked at barely above a whisper, "I remember everything about our time together." He glanced down at Evan, meeting his eyes again, "Everything." He repeated. "It would not do for any such behavior to continue, however. So you will do well not to gaze at me with such lustful eyes again."

"Yes, My Lord," Evan agreed, somewhat relieved. He had adored being bedded by Voldemort – truly. But the raw devotion he felt for the man was different from the love he shared with Lucius, and while he didn't mind offering his body to his Master, anything to keep him on good terms with that pesky Malfoy he'd fallen for was a better idea.

Voldemort stood, and began walking back to the cupboard.

"One more thing," He called back, not turning around. "Harry is not to know."

A/N: Okay so this chapter is a bit short but at least I updated sooner. It's kind of a shame that it "only" being a month seems quick for this story, but I'm trying to write shorter chapters more often as opposed to the reciprocal.

Still unbeta'd! Ugh.

I love you guys so much for reading!

-Beloved

P.S. – I put up a new poll so if it's not too much trouble, could you take it if you haven't yet?