Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter and never will.
X
Harry rushed back to his dorm room, the diadem tucked underneath his jumper. He could feel it throbbing against his skin, warm and electric.
It really was a pretty thing; a gold eagle accentuated with dark blue. A blue gem sparkled in the middle, with a circular and tear shaped crystal dangling below. If he were to hazard a guess he would be confidant in saying the diadem was related to Ravenclaw in some way, possible even to Rowena Ravenclaw considering the aged look to the jewellery, but he couldn't understand why he felt such a draw to it.
He went straight to his bed upon arriving at Gryffindor Tower, pulling the curtains shut around him and placing Silencing and Sticking charms on them. He wasn't sure what he needed to hide from the other boys in his dorm, but every precaution helped.
He gingerly pulled the diadem out from under his jumper, gently brushing off a stray strand of wool that had become attached. Despite some of the rumours about him, he had no particular urge to wear the diadem, but just touching it was pleasing.
He ran his thumb over the sapphire, and as he did so a strange feeling of coldness swept throughout his entire body, and then he felt darkness overcome him.
X
When he awoke he was lying on a hard and uncomfortable ground. As his mind started to awake with his body he came to the realisation that he was in a forest. Trees seemed to surround him at every angle, long and thin, blocking out the sky above.
He jumped to his feet, looking around fearfully. He patted down his body, desperate to find his wand but it wasn't on him. A thorough search through the leaves told him he hadn't dropped it nearby either.
Feeling more panic start to rise in him, being inexplicably lost in a forest without a wand, he got the Eye of Horus clear in his mind, hoping he could somehow work out an Ancient spell to help him leave, but nothing seemed to happen. When he really focused it was almost as if he couldn't feel any magic, either in him or the atmosphere.
So Harry did the only thing he could think of; he ran.
He didn't care what direction he went; he just needed to get somewhere. Getting up each time he fell and ignoring the branches swiping his face, he ran until he spotted a woman standing with her back to him by a large tree.
"Hello?" he called, but the woman seemed to ignore him. Her hair was long and dark, flowing freely down her back, and her dress was a faded blue, very old-fashioned with a poufy skirt and ruffled sleeves.
He took a step nearer, calling out a second time, but once again she showed no sign of hearing him.
He walked cautiously towards her, until he was close enough to tap her on the shoulder, yet as he did his hand fell right through her.
He gasped and pulled his hand back swiftly, the woman still showing no recognition that Harry was there.
The woman turned suddenly, somehow looking vaguely familiar to Harry. He turned his head too as he heard a twig snap behind him, and then a large man with a curly wig on strode past him without paying any attention to Harry; he looked suspiciously like the Bloody Baron.
Before Harry could contemplate any further, the man had a knife plunged into the woman's stomach. The teenager gasped again, horrified as blood started to stain the woman's stomach and she fell to the floor as the man turned the knife on himself, plunging it into his heart, before the man and woman both disappeared altogether.
Harry could take no more, fearing he was going insane, and he turned hurriedly and ran even quicker than before. And then he could see a bright light just in the distance; hopefully his escape from the nightmare inducing trees.
The light was getting nearer and nearer, and he pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his body. He was so close now; he could almost taste the freedom.
Then he saw a wall of shining white, and he was suddenly thrown backwards, feeling his palms get torn open against the ground. He wiped the dirt and blood on his shirt, climbing shakily to his feet and limping towards the wall again.
It was glowing white, reaching far higher and far wider than he could see. He banged his hands against it, screaming in frustration as they did nothing more than collide with the wall.
That was all he could do; scream and attack the wall with as much force as he could, not caring how sore his throat was or how much his body ached.
"It won't work," an amused voice said softly from behind him, and he turned, clapping his hands to his mouth when he saw who had spoken.
It was Tom, except it wasn't Tom.
He was clearly the same man, the facial features and height clearly identical, yet this man appeared much older than his Tom, perhaps thirty or so. While his Tom was pale, but not unnaturally so, this one was almost ghostly white, his skin almost translucent and with a slight waxy look to it. His cheekbones appeared almost completely sunken and his eyes were almost entirely red. While Tom was slender, this Tom was almost skeletal. Harry was skinny, but he was nothing like the man in front of him, whose bones he could see sticking out sharply from under his robes. He looked the halfway point between Tom and Voldemort, and perhaps looked more terrifying for it.
"Who are you?" the man; Tom, hissed.
"Harry Potter," Harry answered honestly. Tom was circling him, getting closer and closer to the teenager. Harry felt like prey caught in a trap.
"And tell me, Harry Potter, how did you end up in here?" Tom asked; Harry didn't even know where here was.
"I don't know," he told the man. "I had this diadem; Ravenclaw's I think, and I blacked out and woke up here."
"Curious," Tom murmured, ceasing his circling. "Part of your soul is distant, yet another part of it feels like a brother; presumably the part that drew you in from the diadem. How is it you are able to be of two, Harry Potter? And why were you in possession of the diadem?"
"Be of two?" Harry repeated, confused. "I swear I don't know a thing; I don't even know what it means. But I found the diadem hidden and it was calling to me, so I kept it."
"You really don't know," Tom stated, reaching a pale hand out and tracing bony fingers down Harry's cheek; his skin was cold to the touch. "Yet you must know something, even if you cast your mind back."
Realisation seemed to hit Harry in an instance. Tom had been trapped in a diary for years, preserved at the age of sixteen until he was freed, and all that time he had been within another world in the diary, the diary which Tom had said had been a Horcrux.
"This is a Horcrux," Harry uttered softly.
"The inside of one," Tom corrected. "How do you know of the secret? Be careful of your answer; the forest is an unforgiving place."
"I-I wrote in the diary when I was twelve, and the Tom inside of it used me to bring him out of it. I've joined his cause and he's told me about the Horcruxes."
"He used you to release himself and yet you're still alive. I truly was ingenious, even at such a young age. Tell me, what is the year?"
"1996," Harry told him, and the older man repeated it to himself quietly.
"Strange how the slow the years pass in here," Tom said, more to himself than to Harry.
"Err, who are those two people; the man and the woman? Don't they keep you company? Is there anyone else here?" Harry asked, and Tom shook his head.
"I am the only living soul here, aside from you now, of course. Helena Ravenclaw and Baron Wulfgar are simply shards of souls left in the diadem from their brutal deaths. They do not know the present; rather they appear from time to time, living their last moments over and over. Due to their taint on the diadem, the world it has created is the Albanian forest in which their deaths occurred."
"Oh," Harry muttered. "So, is there any way out of here?"
"Not for me," Tom answered, beginning to walk away from Harry at last.
"What about for me?" Harry questioned, chasing after the man.
"Yes, but I have been entirely alone for a very long time, not even able to perform magic. Perhaps you can entertain me for some time. There must be much that I do not know from the years I've been entrapped, and if you are the lover of the version of me you freed, surely I should also be able to have reign of your body"
"N-no," Harry spluttered, "we're not-we're not lovers."
"Liar," Tom hissed, the collected attitude vanishing for a moment, leaving Harry more terrified than he had been in any moment of his life. "I can taste him on you."
Tom had started to calm down now, turning back into the calm yet cold persona he had previously.
"Well we are sort of, lovers I mean, but we've not done anything yet," Harry said awkwardly, wincing at the realisation he was explaining his sex life, or rather lack thereof, to a soul fragment belonging to the Dark Lord.
"That is of no interest to me," Tom told him. "Your Tom and I may be different yet we are also the same; it should make no difference to you which one of us you give your innocence too."
It did matter to Harry though, but he knew saying that to a Dark wizard suffering from severe cabin fever was useless.
"What if I tried to free you?" Harry said quickly, thinking on his feet. "I did it before with the diary; I could free you too and then you could live out in the open. I'm sure the Dark Lord can make another Horcrux to replace this one."
"You would be unable to do that," Tom stated simply. "Even if I were to call on your magic to transfer to me, the Tom you know would recognise the signs instantly and stop it. I know I have a tendency to be highly possessive."
"There must be another way," Harry guessed, trying to come up with anything that might let this Tom free him from the confines of the Horcrux. "Isn't there some sort of anti-Horcrux spell which would release you?"
"The only way to stop a Horcrux is to destroy it or have the remaining Earthly soul to recall it. Both of those options would simply cause me to vanish."
"Well, if you let me out of here I'll promise to find a way to do it," Harry begged, not ashamed of himself for resorting to it. Being without any form of magic truly was debilitating.
"And you would never return to me again," Tom said firmly, eyeing Harry narrowly.
"I will come back," Harry assured. "Can't I do something to prove it?"
Tom stayed silent for a moment, bending down and rustling through the plant life on the ground. He eventually found what he was looking for, cupping it in his hands so Harry was unable to see what it was.
"Give me your hand; palm up," the older man demanded, and Harry hesitantly offered it.
He didn't even have time to see Tom's hands uncurl until the object he had swiped Harry across the palm, causing a slightly deep cut. Blood immediately came to the surface, pouring out of the injury.
Harry hissed, pulling his hand away and cradling it to his chest.
"That was one of many magical and poisonous plants found in this forest. I know the plant which will cure you. You will have five days to return here or else you will die. I doubt you would be able to identify the plant used in that timeframe. The only way you would remain alive is if you stayed here, as this is a vessel for your soul, thus your body would simply become frozen and so undying. It's your choice."
"I'll go," Harry chose, and Tom nodded, the smirk Harry knew very well crossing his face.
"One last thing before you go," Tom requested. "A parting kiss?"
Harry scowled, but knowing Tom wouldn't let him go without it, he begrudgingly moved towards the man, lifting on his toes slightly, and pressed his lips against the man's. Tom grabbed the back of his head with his hand, deepening the kiss and thrusting his tongue into Harry's unwilling mouth.
He eventually let Harry go, ignoring the way Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.
"Farewell for now, Harry Potter, I should hate to think you'll be dead in five days if you choose to forget about me." With that said, Tom pressed his hand to Harry's forehead, and then there was pain and blinding white light.
Harry gasped and bolted upright, finding himself back in his bed in Gryffindor dorm. For a slight moment he wondered if he had been dreaming, but his body ached and every injury he had sustained in the forest was still marked on his body, including the gash across his palm.
He imagined the Eye of Horus in his mind, feeling the glow settle over his body. He felt a rush of warmth across his body as he was healed; the grazes from his hands disappeared along with the rest of scrapes over his body, but his muscles still ached and more importantly the cut remained on his hand.
He frowned, imagining the Eye again, trying to focus on specifically on the injury, but it didn't show any sign of healing at all.
He threw the diadem at his curtain in frustration, before picking it up angrily and shoving it underneath his pillow.
He didn't sleep much that night.
X
It was still dark when Harry decided to get out of bed. A quick glance at the clock told him it was five in the morning. He had only managed a couple of hours sleep on and off in the night as his mind was ticking over everything that had happened.
He casted a few Protection charms over the diadem, and then he shuffled out of bed silently, dragging his feet across the floor to the showers.
One possibility was to tell Tom everything and hope he could figure out what had been used to poison him and could find the antidote in time, but Tom would probably be angry at Harry for being so stupid. Plus he'd be nothing more than a damsel in distress, and he was more than that.
Another option was to research everything he could. It could work out well and he could find a way to release Tom and get cured in time, but if he couldn't find anything then he would either die, or Tom might trap him in the Horcrux world until he tired of him, and then release him to be killed.
He considered the possibility of giving the diadem to a girl, hoping she'd wear it and her magic could be drained, but he was pretty sure that would make him a murderer, and considering it was a priceless and historical artefact he didn't know who would wear such a thing, plus somebody like Dumbledore could notice and take it off them.
A third possibility which came to his head as he turned on the hot water tap was to just stand in the showers until he drowned himself. It was Saturday morning, so the other boys wouldn't wake up until around ten o'clock, which gave plenty of time for the water to fill his lungs.
He sunk to the floor, wrapping shaking arms around himself. He really had got himself into a mess, and it felt horrible. He couldn't understand how Neville allowed it to happen year after year if every time felt like this.
But it would no good to sulk and cry; that wouldn't solve anything. In a burst of motivation, he left the comfort of the steamy shower and got ready, going straight to the library. He couldn't stomach the thought of eating that morning, but the library was open early, although books could only be taken out from nine o'clock.
After a thorough search of the library however, he found that there were no books on Horcruxes whatsoever. He supposed he'd need a pass for the Restricted Section, and Malfoy Manor had a lot of books on Dark magic, and he'd seen plenty about Horcruxes there, so that would be a good start point.
Grimmauld Place technically belonged to him now; Sirius had left it for him in his will. He had wanted to leave it to Remus, but anti-werewolf laws prohibited him from inheriting property. Harry had said Remus could live in it all he wanted, but if he was living with Greyback in the forests it was probably empty. The Black library was vast and filled to the brim with Dark magic books, and he was confident it would have what he needed.
Harry decided Slughorn was his best bet for a pass for the Restricted Section, and the man readily gave him one, hardly asking for any explanation.
Unfortunately, there were no books mentioning Horcruxes in there either, making Harry increasingly frustrated. Time had passed too quickly for his liking, as a glance at the time made Harry notice he was almost late for meeting Malfoy, and he still had to return to Gryffindor tower.
He couldn't muster a run with his low energy levels, so he walked as quick as he could, grabbing some fingerless gloves and a bandage from his trunk. Lily had made him take a First-Aid Kit with him to Hogwarts every year, just in case he couldn't get to Madame Pomfrey quick enough and he didn't know the necessary Healing spells. He had scoffed every year when he never used it, but he was grateful for it now, wrapping a thick wad around his hand. He pulled the fingerless gloves on top, hoping Tom would buy the lie that it was a fashion trend.
He was fifteen minutes late when he finally got to the dungeons, and Draco was tapping his foot impatiently.
"Where have you been?" he spat when he saw Harry, his face looking shocked and somewhat concerned when he really took in Harry's appearance. "You look like Hell."
"I didn't sleep much last night," Harry said with a shrug, emphasising his point with a yawn.
Draco tutted and Portkeyed them away, where Voldemort, Tom and Narcissa were waiting. Harry noticed Tom was giving Draco a pointed stare, and the young Malfoy seemed to understand as he took the blame for their lateness, something Harry knew Draco wouldn't have done of his own free will. Harry winced visibly as Draco shook under the Cruciatus.
The meeting ended up in the same way, as Voldemort was displeased that Draco hadn't made more of a plan regarding Dumbledore. Tom walked with Harry immediately after the meeting had finished, though staying silent the whole way, making Harry nervous. He was sure Tom had seen through him, and he was ready to grovel.
"I brought Lupin for you," Tom said, taking Harry by surprise. "He didn't believe me when I said you were part of my cause now, but he didn't want to take the risk and not see you. I have business out of the Manor to attend to tonight, but I will likely be back before Midnight."
Tom took hold of Harry's gloved hands and gently squeezed it, before striding down the corridor, power prominent in every step, leaving Harry to go into the room alone.
Harry paused for a moment before pushing the door forward. There was a quick blur and then he was in someone's arms, pressed hard against a familiar chest. Harry could do nothing but hug the older man back tightly, breathing in the comforting scent of chocolate and tea that was so like Remus.
Remus finally pulled back, bending slightly and looking deep into Harry's eyes, checking over for signs of the Imperius Curse, Harry presumed, before he was pulled back into another hug.
"Oh Harry," Remus breathed, "I'm so sorry."
Harry shook his head adamantly. He had been angry at Remus for leaving, but seeing him again made him realise how much he had missed the werewolf, and all the rage seemed to vanish.
"You should have stayed with us," Harry said after a while, cursing himself for how pitiful he sounded. "We could have helped you; you shouldn't have got yourself caught up with the bad werewolves; we could have helped you."
"I know, cub, I know," Remus whispered, pulling back and seating them on the edge of the bed. "I was just so upset and angry too. All but you and your family treated me like I was nothing to Sirius; they didn't want me to attend the funeral, they didn't honour his will, all because of what I am. You and your family had each other, and you and Heather will be all grown up soon, and I felt I had nothing but this curse, but Fenrir offered me a chance to get back at the world that had shunned me, and in my grief I latched onto it, but I realised my mistake too late; I owe Fenrir now, but Merlin, Harry, I'm an old man with nothing much left, you shouldn't be involved with this. Did my leaving drive you to this?"
Remus had buried his head in his hands, and Harry laid a hand gently on his shoulder.
"No," Harry had softly. "Err, Lord Riddle has been in contact with me for a while; he was my best friend. I chose to help him, and when I needed him most he was there and offered me a place. It wasn't the same after you left. Dad started to drink, which Mum hated, and their marriage was suffering. Heather left home, and I had nobody in that house. I just wished you and Sirius had been there to help, but you weren't and-" he stopped, aware he was crying now. Remus noticed too, and he pulled Harry into another hug.
They sat like that for a long time, letting their tears flow and taking the comfort of each other. Though Sirius had been named as Harry's Godfather, Remus was an unofficial uncle of sorts, and he really did love the man as much as his parents.
"Why are you stuck helping Greyback now?" Harry asked eventually, and Remus sighed.
"It's complicated; it's to do with werewolf laws. He's my Sire, and he helped me by giving me a purpose in life, but in return I owe him, especially now he's called in a Sire's Order, which basically means I have to do what he tells me. I refuse to kill or torture anyone, but Fenrir is one of the few werewolves who was born as one. He was raised by his father who had the same beliefs as him, and as such he grew up almost like an animal; he can't read or write, and because apparently I have a reputation for being smart, he makes me do anything like that for him, doing research into successful werewolf clans."
"I see," Harry said gently. "Just stay careful."
Remus stroked Harry's head affectionately.
"I will," the man murmured. "I can feel Fenrir calling me back. Lord Riddle tells me you're here every weekend; I'll try and get the day to spend with you next week."
"I'd like that," Harry said with a small smile. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, cub," Remus replied, growling animalistically as he glanced out the window at the half moon in the sky, before his expression softened. "Take care of yourself."
After Remus had left, Harry swung his legs wildly, biting down on his lip as he considered what to do. There was still plenty of time until Tom's proposed return time.
"Dobby," he called, waiting for the pop of the House-Elf.
"Sir Harry!" the creature greeted enthusiastically. "How can Dobby be helping you?"
"I'd like to go to the library, the Flavius Room I think it's called, and without anyone seeing me. Can you help with that please?" Harry asked, and the Elf beamed at him.
"Certainly, Sir, Dobby will take you there himself."
"Thank you, Dobby, you're very kind," Harry said, and then wished he hadn't. Dobby's eyes had filled up with tears, and then he was sobbing loudly.
"You shouldn't be so kind to Dobby, sir," the House-Elf wailed.
"No, no, Dobby, you deserve to be treated nicely," Harry cut in, not even knowing if the creature could hear him over his cries.
"You're right, sir Harry, Dobby's masters are cruel." The Elf stopped crying at those words, only to start viciously slamming his head into the wall instead, chanting 'Bad Dobby' as he did so.
"Stop, stop," Harry yelled, trying to pull Dobby away from the wall.
"Sorry, young sir, Dobby misspoke of his masters. That is most punishiable."
"Well I won't tell," Harry said, trying not to roll his eyes. Dobby thanked him, and then snapped his fingers, Apparating them both to the library.
"Can you let me know when Lord Riddle returns, please?" Harry asked, and the Elf assured him he would.
"Ah, hello Harry Potter," Flavia Malfoy in the portrait greeted. "I'm glad to see a young man studying hard; I only wish my grandson would take the same interest in proper magic, rather than that nonsense they're teaching him at school. Take pleasure in your studies."
The portrait swung open and Harry entered.
He had found the writings on Horcruxes in the Ancient magic section last time, so that was his first port of call.
He grabbed every book with the world Horcrux in the title to begin with, totalling three books. The first was written in Ancient Greek, and though Harry recognised the alphabet used, he couldn't translate it. The second was half-understandable. The author was someone named Herpo the Foul, and was filled full of pages. Unfortunately the writing seemed to be switching between letters and squiggly looking lines, neither staying long enough for him to interpret, and it was giving him a headache just looking at it. The third book was written in English, though it was rather small, but it was better than nothing.
He skimmed the pages, looking for anything that might suggest how to remove a soul from a Horcrux without destroying it, but the closest he got would involve Voldemort calling the Horcrux back to him and re-attaching the souls together, but diadem Tom had claimed he didn't want that.
He shoved two of the books back into place, keeping the one by Herpo the Foul out just in case he was able to make sense of it when he was less tired. He shrank it and pocketed it, hoping the Malfoy's wouldn't mind.
Even now he was struggling to keep focused on anything, his tiredness catching up with him faster and faster by the minute.
He pulled books from the shelf at random, desperately searching the texts, but none he grabbed had any mention of the word Horcrux in them, but he had to keep on reading.
He jumped when a large popping noise sounded next to him, and he jerked his head up, a page stuck to his face. He must have fallen asleep over the books.
"Sorry to awaken you, sir, but Lord Riddle has returned and is requesting you," Dobby said, almost fearfully. Harry nodded dumbly and allowed Dobby to Apparate them back.
Tom looked expectant as Harry took him in; Harry wasn't sure if he was just tired or if Tom really did have blood on his robes, but Tom didn't seem to care.
"What's wrong with you?" Tom asked sharply, no concern evident in his voice at all.
"'M'tired," Harry muttered, rubbing fists across his eyes for good measure. "And Remus made me think about Sirius which made me sad."
"Have you been out with the werewolf?" Tom asked tone even sharper and Harry shook his head.
"Library," he said, wanting nothing more to crawl into bed and sleep. Maybe he'd wake up and find out it had all been a nightmare.
"Go to bed; I'll talk to you in the morning when you're more coherent," Tom ordered, and Harry was more than happy to comply.
But once his head hit the cold pillow, his head was filled again with everything.
Tom sat down beside him on the bed.
"Hold me," he said quietly, and Tom didn't hear him.
"Please," he repeated, louder, "can you hold me?"
Tom heard him that time, and he said nothing, but shuffled down to lay beside Harry and wrapped his arms around him.
Harry buried his head into Tom's warmth, breathing in the scent of him. Tom was so strong and wise, and Harry had to make him proud. He had had some stress, and the lack of sleep had made it worse, but he had to take a leaf out of Tom's book and shut down his emotions to get what he wanted doing done.
"I believe in you, you know," Tom murmured softly from above him.
And that was all Harry needed.
X
I really liked this chapter; I hope you did too.
For any of you who are wondering, there will be no slash between Harry and this third Tom. He's just been alone too long. I really need to think of a name for him to make it easier to distinguish between them all xD And as for whether this third Tom is going to make an appearance in the real world, well you'll have to wait and see.
Oh, and believe it or not I do actually have a direction with my plot LOL.I am starting to get in deeper now.