[Author's note: Sorry this took so long. My computer broke and I had to re-write this chapter from memory. ;-/ Always back up your files, people! Anyway, this chapter is pretty heavily emo, which is good or bad depending on what you like. I hope you like. xxxxx]

Chapter 32 – Operation: Raising Tom Riddle, Part 5

The Doctor slammed the door of the blue box shut just as the soldiers opened fire. A hailstorm of bullets battered the outside of the TARDIS. "That was too close," said M, voice nearly inaudible above the noise.

The Doctor bolted to the console and quickly got them into space, a safe distance away. "Even on an alien planet in a different universe...guns. Are guns ubiquitous across all of space and time? Why do so many species end up making the same weapon?"

"That was too close."

"You'd think you'd see more lasers. Or...ooh! Sonic boomerangs would be cool."

"Will you please-"

"The important thing is we saved the last two Dreamsloths. Okay, so we helped organize a coup without really meaning to, but the important thing is-"

"Please listen!"

The Doctor fixed M with a particular expression that M had come to expect in moments like this. "Sorry, what is it?"

"You've got that face on."

"This is my face. This is what my face looks like."

"It's that look that says 'Please don't cry.' It's infuriating, and that makes me want to cry so just stop."

Without changing his expression, the Doctor glanced in a mirror. "You're right," he said. "I look like a jerk."

"Now you just look pathetically sad, like I'm ruining all your fun. I'm not trying to, I just want you to listen-"

"It was too close. I know it was. It always is. It's never safe with me. I'm a madman and you'd be better off with someone else."

The Doctor's tone had changed abruptly. It was cold and harsh, and M was taken aback. "What?"

"Do you know how many times I've screwed up? Promises broken, lives ruined? I don't tell my companions about all of my failures because then they'd never come with me. Even so...they all go away in the end. This life is too dangerous and I know it and you can go."

"I can go?"

"Whenever you want."

"I can go?"

"That's what I said."

M slapped the Doctor across the face, hard. "Don't dismiss me like that! Don't make assumptions! If you would just listen, really listen-"

The TARDIS beeped and a monitor flashed. "There's an incoming message," said the Doctor.

M's eyes were burning with a fury that the Doctor hadn't seen since the drums had stopped. The Doctor smiled anxiously and said, "We'll let it go to voicemail. Please forgive me. I'm ready to listen now."

The Doctor's gaze became completely receptive, like nothing and nobody else existed except M. M looked away. "I'm sorry I hit you."

The Doctor shook his head slightly, as if the slap wasn't worth mentioning. After a moment, M continued, "What I wanted to say is..." it seemed silly now that it had been built up so much, and he floundered a bit. "…that was very dangerous, wasn't it? I'm not suggesting we stop trying to help people...and endangered species…in case that was what you were thinking. I'm not asking you to stop being who you are. I'm just concerned. It's been a year but I'm still new at all this and I need time to get good at it. Your companions support you. You don't bring them along just for fun…you need them, their reality checks. I mean, one of us has to be somewhat sane, right? We're like the last two Dreamsloths, except we have to watch out for ourselves."

He knew he was rambling and cut himself off. The Doctor was still giving him his full attention. M gathered his thoughts and tried again. "We need to be as responsible as possible for our actions and for each other. We need to be on the same page, but I'm not sure I have your trust and confidence. Think of all the times I've leaned on you this past year...there've been a lot. But you don't tell me anything. And you can tell me anything. I don't mind that you have flaws, doubts, fears. It's actually very important that I know about that stuff. Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry, but no, not really. I never had a friend like that. There are things I don't talk about with my human companions, and I guess I'm used to it. Withholding. Never really explaining myself. Being...idolized. To a human this is all so romantic, and I go along with that feeling because without it my reality isn't...it isn't much except sad and lonely, with too much power and time on my hands. Every so often someone will ask if I'm all right, and I have to say I am. I have to be all right."

"It's okay if you're not, now that I'm here. You said neither of us has to be alone if we've got each other. If you still feel alone, consider that it's because you won't let me get close to you."

"I want to...but...even on Gallifrey, it wasn't easy to connect. I always felt different."

"Try being me from age eight onwards," M said with a gentle smile. "I don't think either of us got on particularly well with others. I learned how to be alone out of necessity. At least you have charm. Even if it is calculated."

"Excuse me? Calculated?"

M's smile grew. "Oh, c'mon! Your hair, your outfits...this daft professor costume, the suspenders, the bowtie! It's all very precious, isn't it? Like candy for Earthlings of the right persuasion."

"Hey...it's not like that! Bowties are cool!"

"And there it is, the affectation is complete. Listen, it's not the trappings that make you who you are. It's not the sonic screwdriver or the silly shape of your TARDIS or the names you've invented or acquired, Theta Sigma, the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm –seriously?— a million curses in a million languages. And yeah, you are different than everyone else. Everyone is different than everyone else. So, who are you? A sad lonely madman with too much power and time...isn't that a great metaphor for God? The interesting question is: what's the exact quality of your madness? Is it even real, or just part of the act? Can a madman know he's mad?"

The Doctor was lost for words. M was still smiling. He added, "What, none of your friends ever questioned you about it? You've informed them of your legendary insanity, haven't you?"

"Yes...but...they..."

"They think it's cute. But I know better." M's smile fell. "I know the coldness of the Time Lords, the sociopathic side we all share. Most of us couldn't have cared less about humans, not even if we'd tried. There was once a time when even you didn't care if one or one million died-"

"I changed!"

"Yes, and so have I. I never valued humans until Ashley healed me. It was like she was there with me, holding my hand as I walked towards the Untempered Schism. She protected me, she made the drums stop...and I can never adequately express my gratitude for that. I'm not sure why everyone has been so kind to me, I still don't get why I deserve it, considering what I've done...but I see now that humans have a strength the Time Lords never did. You've learned a lot from them, Doctor, about warmth and compassion, but you can't deny that cruel side of you still exists and will never go away. Is that the madness you hint at, beneath the persona? Tell me something."

The Doctor waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "Tell you what?"

"A secret. Something you don't want to talk about."

"I...I dunno."

"Would it help if I told you something first?"

"Maybe."

"Sometimes I get overwhelmed by feelings I don't know how to deal with…self-loathing, fear, guilt…and to get relief I burn myself with my laser screwdriver."

"No!" The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders, his expression of shock quickly shifting into one of anguish. "Don't do that! You shouldn't do that!"

"I know I shouldn't, that's why I'm telling you. I know it's wrong and unhealthy, and I'm struggling to find better ways to cope. Now you tell me something you struggle with."

The Doctor was still holding on to M's shoulders, and had begun to sweat. "I have a fear –I feel it right now– of you being hurt or leaving. I have this impulse, this fantasy of locking you up in order to keep and protect you, even though I know it's wrong, the worst possible thing I could do to you. I love you and I want you to be happy and free, but as horrible as it is to say, I think this relationship would be easier for me if you were still insane. At least then I'd know that you need me. Like you said, the madman needs a sane companion. I thought, of the two of us, I'd be the sane one. I wasn't prepared for our roles to be reversed and it's freaking me out to the extent that I'm not sure I can trust myself. That's why I told you to go."

"But you know you can't lock me up. I'd escape like I did last time."

The Doctor sighed and closed his eyes. M said, "Is your compulsion really that illogical...or...there's more, isn't there?"

The Doctor winced and nodded, hands finally drifting away. "The thing Ashley did with the ward inside your mind, it got me thinking. I went around this world learning magic, and began doing experiments. I've come up with a ward that stops a Time Lord from using regeneration energy."

"When did you find time for that?"

"I sleep for an hour a day. You sleep for two...like a child would."

M had hoped that the Doctor hadn't noticed that. "You tested the spell on yourself? It's temporary?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

The Doctor took a wand out of his jacket pocket and pointed it at M. "Cogo corpus navitas."

A shimmering haze formed just around M's body and then vanished. He tried to create a spark of energy between his thumb and index finger, but nothing happened. "Impressive."

"Finite incantatem."

M tried again, and a tiny arc of golden light formed between his fingers. "Did the hat ever get around to sorting you? I'd bet on Slytherin. This shows a lot of foresight. It's good to know you're this manipulative."

M's eyes had taken on a sharp focus that unnerved the Doctor. "M, I'm sorry. The spell is the result of an unhealthy fixation. I understand if you can't trust me after this. You wanted to know how damaged I am, well, there you go."

"You think you're damaged now? What about-"

The monitor beeped again and M answered the call. It was Harry, and he sounded worried. He asked if the Time Lords could please come back to the London house as soon as possible. M moved to start flipping levers, but the Doctor stopped him. "What about what?"

M's eyebrows rose up and scrunched together, and his eyes were sad. It took the Doctor several seconds to recognize the look as one of pity. "You really don't know what this entire conversation has been dancing around. You've completely forgotten about the Valeyard, haven't you?"

The Doctor stared at him dumbly. M fought the sudden urge to slap him again, and calmly said, "The Time Lords put you on trial and the Valeyard prosecuted the case, falsifying evidence to cast you in the worst possible light, to have you executed in order to cover up the High Council's destruction of all life on Earth. How could you forget that? The trial went on forever, like a whole season."

"What?"

"It took all winter long, remember?"

"What?"

"Your sixth incarnation, put on trial...your brains were a little scrambled at the time, but try and remember."

"Oh...the coat...the patchwork plaid...the shirt with the question marks! But, everything worked out all right, didn't it?"

M gritted his teeth, then took a very deep hissing breath and let out an equally long sigh. He mentally kicked himself for making assumptions, when he had just chastised the Doctor for doing so. "The Valeyard is your twelfth incarnation. He is the distillation of all your evil, a perfect psychopath. How could that have slipped your mind?"

"Like you remember everything that's happened to you!"

"I wish I could forget! Sometimes I really wish that Ashley's spell had set me back to zero! But then you'd be hopeless! Don't you think the Valeyard warrants some consideration, since you're currently at eleven and continue to risk your life every day? Let me recall for you that the Valeyard went missing after being defeated by your sixth. Who else but me is going to deal with that? It takes one to know one!"

"You're not a psychopath!"

"I was! I remember how I thought! That's why I'll be able to take care of you when you become the Valeyard! You will need me more than you can possibly imagine! Don't you see how dumb it is for you to think I'm going to leave? I'll do for you what you were willing to do for me, yes, even if I have to keep you prisoner! This spell you created might prove very useful in that regard, but I'm not ready yet! I need more time to learn how to be good and sane and responsible and to come up with some semblance of a plan for our future and I'd hoped you'd be interested in collaborating openly on that! I can't do it by myself! I'm only nine!"

The Doctor began to process M's statement, but he was distracted by the last part. "Nine hundred? No, you're my age. Oh, wait, you're not counting the Time Lock years."

M held up both hands, crooking his left pinky down. "Nine."

Realisation dawned. The Doctor was gobsmacked. "Ashley's spell. Not back to zero, but back to...eight. Not your memories or body, obviously, but..."

"Everything else."

The rest of what M had said clicked into place. "You're new at all this, you're not ready...to deal with the Valeyard. Every risk I take could cause me to regenerate, and you're only nine. You've been struggling to bear everything by yourself, and I was too stupid and self-centered to notice."

"I didn't want you to. I don't want you to treat me like a kid-"

The Doctor knelt down and buried his face in M's shirtfront, hugging him around the waist. "You brave, stubborn, sensitive, impossibly amazing boy."

"This is what I was afraid of…this sentimental rubbish."

"It's not rubbish! How can you be only nine and already this brilliant? I'm in so much trouble. You're right, I completely forgot about the Valeyard. I tell you anything, give you whatever you need, just help me, forgive me, I'm mad, I'm an idiot."

"You make up for it in other areas."

The Doctor looked up at him, eyes wide and teary. "I do?"

Finally, thought M. He's finally crying, instead of me. "Yes, you do. You've been doing a great job, all things considered. I never would've told you this stuff if I really thought you'd try and take control of me. All right, so you had a creepy secret plan to keep me in a cage. It's messed up, but it doesn't surprise me. I kept you in a cage for a year. Not that it makes it okay, but I'm sure you would've been way nicer to me than I was to you, so there's that. You know, even if you wanted to throw in a little torture I'd still understand...but I believe that you believe you're not that kind of person, and that's crucial. I think you're only cruel to be kind, and yes, sometimes you take that to the extreme. You've destroyed worlds, you've committed genocide, in order to protect life…but you're willing to bear the sorrow and the loneliness of your decisions. You just never give up hope that people, including yourself, can be better, and it breaks your hearts when they can't do it, but you keep believing it's possible. A rational person would have lower expectations. A rational person, when they hear the sound of hooves thinks horses, but you think unicorns. Well, guess what? In this universe, unicorns exist."

"We never would've come here if not for you."

"It was an accident."

"A happy one."

"We should see what Harry needs. Please let go of me."

The Doctor released M and automatically adjusted his bowtie. He caught himself, and looked sheepish. "Maybe you're right about my...persona."

"Maybe."

"But I like bowties!"

"That's okay."

The Doctor smirked. "Don't patronize. You don't like bowties?"

"I don't think about clothes, much."

"Yeah, I can tell," said the Doctor playfully.

M looked at his own outfit; a pale gray suit with a white shirt underneath. The tie was missing and everything was oversized and wrinkled. "Huh. Well, thankfully only one of us has to be charming."

The Doctor frowned, examining as if for the first time his friend's drab clothes and unkempt hair. "You're still wearing stuff from my wardrobe. Why not have something tailored to fit?"

"I don't like to draw attention. I'm still not, um...totally comfortable in this body and I feel weird when people look at me with...adult interest."

"Oh no, what has Jack-"

"No, don't stereotype! Jack might be highly sexual but that doesn't make him a predator. Yes, he flirts, but he understands boundaries and has been nothing but respectful and friendly to me."

"Have you talked with Ashley about this stuff?"

"She encouraged me to tell you about the age thing...and the hurting myself thing. You might be able to help."

M's face flushed with shame. The Doctor wanted to rip his clothes off and examine him for wounds, but he knew that was a terrible idea on many levels. "What can I do?"

"I've noticed that it's worst when I'm alone, trying to fall asleep. If you could keep me company then, just talking or watching a movie or whatever, I think it might distract me."

"Have you seen Back to the Future?"

M shook his head. The Doctor's jaw dropped, and then he said, "I can't wait."

M smiled. "Um, also...I don't mean to impose myself or invade your privacy or anything…but how do you feel about bunk beds?"

The Doctor grinned.

"Oh, good. Everyone's here," said Tom.

He was seated on the couch in the study, the smaller of two libraries in the mansion. Usually the books gave him comfort, as if all answers were available to him if he searched long and hard enough.

Today was different. He sipped a cup of coffee laced with firewhiskey, glad that his hand had stopped shaking. When he'd regained consciousness in the bunker, Saskia was crouched over him, shouting his name. His panic had passed by the time she was done checking for radiation, replaced by an eerie feeling of calm. It was like something had clicked –or snapped—inside his mind, and the emotional horror of what he'd seen was eclipsed by the cold calculating need to do something about it. "Michael, David...please sit."

"What's going on?" asked the Doctor.

"This is an intervention on behalf of humanity."

Tom took a sip, then continued. "I've seen something very disturbing and I have a few questions, which I must insist that you answer honestly if you really love me at all."

"Tom! Of course we love you!" cried Arabella.

Tom nodded and took another sip. "Why wasn't I told about the atomic bomb?"

"We didn't want to worry you," said Albus.

"About what, specifically? What's going to happen?"

The study was silent. "Somebody please answer me," said Tom.

"We aren't in danger," said Hermione. "Not now or in the future, as far as we know."

"Who are 'we', exactly?"

"T-the human species."

"So, the bomb will never be used on people?"

The colour drained from her face. She looked at the Doctor. Tom turned towards him. He knew the man called David was a practiced liar, and probably a skilled Occlumens. Tom shifted his gaze to Michael, who'd always had a hard time controlling his emotions. "Look me in the eye and tell me if it's a fixed point."

Looking at the floor, M asked, "What will you do if it isn't?"

"I don't know."

"Any action you take could-"

His wand was out in a flash. "Imperio. Look at me."

"Tom, no!" yelled Albus.

M looked at him. Tom saw the truth and dropped his cup. He gasped a few times, then released the Imperius and said, "Two bombs. August 6th and 9th. No fixed points. Is it because Japan hasn't surrendered?"

"If the U.S. hadn't done it, the war might've gone on," said Hermione.

"Might have? You mean it isn't a last resort?"

"The Soviets invaded Japan, and then the fighting finally stopped. There's still controversy as to whether it was the invasion or the bombs."

"How many people die?"

"Approximately two-hundred-fifty thousand. But, Japan killed eight million Chinese citizens, in addition to-"

Tom abruptly stood up and began to pace. "The U.S. just wants to be the toughest kid on the playground. Muggles. They're so vulnerable, yet their appetite for destruction is so fierce. Why are they like this?"

Albus said weakly, "You can't use Unforgivables."

"I'm sorry. Sorry about that, Michael. I had to know if it was possible to stop it."

"How would you go about doing that?" asked the Doctor.

"Warn Japan, somehow, about the destructive capabilities of the bomb, so they surrender. Failing that, stop the bombs themselves by whatever means necessary."

"If we do that, and the invasion goes on, there will be many more casualties," said Hermione.

"So, we should do nothing?"

"The situation is beyond us. We don't have the right to interfere."

"What's the point of all our magic if we can't use it for anything important? The bomb shouldn't exist! It just shouldn't."

"But it does, and nuclear energy isn't just for weapons. It generates electricity and has medical applications, along with other uses. You can't expect people to turn away from progress."

"When I saw the blast, when I felt the heat, all I could think was this is death. This is the death of sanity, and the world. Didn't we swear, we wizards and witches, never again the burning times? The Muggles burned us, they burned each other, and now they're going to burn the world…and we're just going to stand by and let that happen? How is that all right?"

Ashley said, "The world is not going to end. This is war, and horrible things happen, but life will go on. You are afraid of your own death, Tom."

He stopped pacing. "Is that what it really comes down to? We only care about ourselves, in the end."

He looked around the room at the defeated expressions of his family and said, "Thank you for explaining. If you'll excuse me, I need to lie down for a while."

His room appeared unfamiliar to him now, the possessions those of a stranger; a child who dreamed of adventures that always ended well, of futures that were bright and happy. Tom stared into space, wondering what it would mean to break his promise to Aleksandr. His heart twisted at the thought, but how else could he do what was necessary? The American atomic project was well protected by Muggles and magic alike. It was supposed to be secret, but Saskia had told him that Russia knew about it and were already working on their own nukes. One mortal man had no hope of stopping it all. His choice was clear.

He slept all day and into the evening, then joined his family for dinner. The mood was still tense, and the fact that Harry, Hermione, Ashley and the Time Lords were still there was a sign that everyone was in crisis mode, but Tom tried to behave as normally as possible. After dessert, they sat up with him until he grew drowsy and returned to his room. The next morning, Tom was surprised to see that everyone was still there. For as long as he could remember, they'd only visited one day out of the week, but Tom didn't question the change. When they were still there the next day and the day after that, he was sure that they intended to stay at least until August 9th. They're waiting me out, he thought. They want to see what I'll do. Well, I'll do it right in front of them, if that's what it takes.

He checked his diary obsessively. It had not been tampered with. He'd memorised the spell, rehearsed it over and over until it was second nature. It would take less than a minute to cast it. He just needed to time it right. It would've been easy if it were just any object, but Tom wanted the TARDIS.

By the fifth night he could wait no longer. After he was sure that everyone else had gone to bed (even the aliens, who barely slept) he snuck out to the garage, where the time machine was stored whenever they came to visit. It was, as always, shaped like a black Packard Super Eight. Tom pulled the gleaming handle of the driver's side door and it swung open silently. He climbed inside, approached the center console, lifted his wand, then hesitated. Hurry, he thought. There might be some sort of alarm system you don't know about. Still, he hesitated. His hand began to shake slightly, and he steeled himself. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

"No, you don't," came a very quiet voice, so quiet that Tom wasn't sure for a moment if it was real or only in his mind, but then Harry appeared from thin air.

Tom started. "What? I can usually sense Disillusioned people."

"This cloak doesn't just make me invisible, it keeps me hidden."

"I saw you sleeping in the house, not three minutes ago."

Harry shrugged. "I woke up and Apparated ahead of you. I had a feeling you'd come here."

They stood staring at each other in the dim greenish light. "Who are you to me, really?"

"Your friend. I know what you're planning to do, and I know it's a mistake. I can prove it."

"Go ahead."

"Follow me."

Harry led him to a hidden room of the TARDIS; a room whose door was charmed to be invisible to Tom. He followed Harry directly into the wall, reminded of Platform 9 3/4, and was taken aback by the sight of the blue box in the middle of the room. "I've seen this…in Michael's mind. I thought it was just memories. It's David's TARDIS. The Doctor's TARDIS."

Harry cast him a sidelong glance. "You know there are things we've hidden from you. You got so good at Legilimency, we had to conceal a lot of our memories. We keep copies in here."

He took out a key and opened the blue box, then led the way through another series of passages and another hidden door, until they were standing in front of a cabinet upon which rested a stone basin inscribed with runes and other magical symbols. Harry opened a drawer of the cabinet, revealing several vials full of silvery liquid. He chose one in particular, unstoppered it and poured it into the basin. "This is a Pensieve, a device that allows you to view another's memory as if experiencing it first-hand. The liquid is a memory extracted from my mind."

"Do you not remember what's in these vials?"

"I remember, but while the memories are extracted, within my mind they're invisible to a Legilimens such as yourself. The liquid is like a duplicate copy."

"So, whatever I'm about to see, you've known this entire time."

Harry sighed and nodded. "Tom, I hope you know that I love you. We all really do love you, even if we've withheld things from you. I don't want to frighten you…I didn't want it to come to this, but I don't think there's any other way to convince you. You need to see why you shouldn't make horcruxes. This was to be your first, right?"

Tom felt a chill go through him. He's not bluffing. He really did know what I was about to do. "Yes. How can you say that you love me, knowing I'm a killer?"

Harry was incredibly nervous, but he asked, "Who did you kill, and why?"

"Nazis and collaborators, in order to save innocent lives."

"How did killing make you feel?"

"Monstrous, but it was necessary."

"You didn't enjoy it?"

"Oh, God, no. It's horrible…horrible. But what they were doing, I c-couldn't let it happen. People would die by the thousands in the b-boxcars, before they even got to the camps."

"Boxcars…the trains? You freed people from the trains?"

Tom nodded. He was silently sobbing. It was a huge relief to finally admit what he'd done. "I h-had to help them."

"I understand."

"Oh, Harry, I hope you're just s-saying that. Any innocence I h-had is gone. I'm ruined as a person."

"Is that why you think it's okay to make a horcrux? You think you're evil?"

"You tell me."

Harry gestured toward the Pensieve. "This is a memory from a potential future. Only potential, not set. Things have already changed a lot, and I don't think it will happen. But you need to see it, to make your own decision about who you want to be."

"H-how do I?"

"Just stick your face in it."

Tom steadied his breathing, then slowly lowered his face into the swirling liquid and felt himself fall into a dizzying darkness. The first thing he became aware of was an excruciating pain in his head and a choking sensation across his throat. He was pinned helplessly to something as cold and hard as stone. He opened his eyes and immediately thought that this must be a nightmare, because there was a dead boy lying on the ground, a man missing a hand, and some kind of monster emerging from a giant cauldron. Yet, everything was so real: the gravestones, the smell of dirt, the stinging cut on his arm, the metallic glint of his glasses framing the scene, the terror coursing through him. The monster was taking shape, unfurling like a corpse-colored flower, and as he watched it became more and more human until it had a smooth, pallid, oddly noseless face, which it stroked with bony fingers, and eyes, the red irises of which seemed to roll down from the back of the hairless skull. The man missing a hand gave the monster a wand, and soon there were hooded figures all around, wearing masks. The headache was so intense that he couldn't quite focus on the conversation, but then the cadaverous man came closer and addressed him directly, and the words began to penetrate, sounding more and more familiar, and just as a long white finger pressed into his –Harry's– forehead, driving a white-hot spike of blinding agony though him, Tom realised it wasn't the words that he recognized but the voice, because the voice was his own.

He pulled his face out of the Pensieve and let loose a cry that sounded like his soul escaping, causing Harry to jump in fright. Tom quickly snapped his wand in three pieces and then slumped against the wall, eyes wide and staring. "Who…who am I to you?"

"You're my friend."

"Not in your memory I'm not. I don't understand…why…w-what did I do? So many vials of memories, from all of you…what did I do?!"

Tom was sweating and shaking, clearly traumatised, and Harry didn't think it was right or necessary to disclose every terrible detail, so he said, "Your fear of death led you to make multiple horcruxes. It stripped away your humanity, and you became that. You attempted to take over the Wizarding World. I stood in your way, so you tried to destroy me."

"Tell me you got away. From me in the graveyard. Tell me you killed me. I couldn't stand it…I couldn't bear to watch...to feel myself hurting you."

Tom turned and vomited in the corner, heaving long after his stomach was empty. He felt Harry's hand on his back. "Of course I got away. I'm here now, aren't I? I'm safe and so are you. Believe me, everything's going to be all right. I know you. You are my friend. You are a good person who made very difficult, grown-up decisions when you were still a child. You are not that monster and there is no reason for you to become him."

"I'd rather die than hurt you."

"I know, Tom, I know."

It was at that moment that Tom realised he feared death far less than he loved his family. His tears were renewed, but this time they were grateful beyond measure. He hugged the shorter boy tentatively, for fear of hurting him even slightly. "Harry Potter, you just saved me."

They made their way slowly back through the TARDISes. Tom was too distracted to notice that the lighting scheme had changed, but just before Harry closed the door behind them he took a moment to appreciate the fact that where there had been a sickly green glow there was now a gold as pure and bright as the feathers of a phoenix.