CHAPTER TWELVE

No announcements. But hello!

Don't own, obviously.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I complained as he set his beady eyes on me.

"Quiet." He snapped at me. Then he turned to the trio. "Potter. Did I invite you and your little friends in?"

Harry looked more scared then he ever had before. "N-no, sir."

He leaned in closer. "Please get off my daughter's bed and leave. Thank you." The thank you seemed more like a threat than a thanks. Harry made to get off. Hermione and Ron were already standing for the door, inching very slowly away from Dad.

As soon as Harry got off, they all bolted for the door.

"No." I interrupted. Hermione let out a little squeak and they all stopped, fearfully looking back. "Stop. Dad. This is my room. I followed your rules. I stayed in here. Don't make them go." The anger was almost consuming.

He bent down and stared at me eye-level. "Yes. You did. But I told you-"

"Apparently I didn't listen! It isn't fair! It's not! You give me rules, and then you don't explain them! That's not how it works-and, and-if you won't be fair, then I won't be either!" I cried. I wanted to scream in frustration; to yell; I was so mad. Everything was so confusing.

He glared at me angrily. "Cecelia Snape, if you do not stop this right now-"

I cut him off again. "You'll what? Make me stay in my room again? Keep me from going to the Slytherin Common room? Alright, I'll admit it! I didn't stay in my room! I went flying with Harry-and don't yell at him! When have YOU done that? Never! All you do all day is sit there and grade boring papers!"

His eyebrows raised up in a moment of surprise, then quickly sunk down in slits of anger. I had a sudden image of Pansy's angry eyes. Ugh.

I stormed past him and out into the hallway. Why did he have to be so bloody annoying?

The only reason I shut the door quietly was because I didn't want to make a school commotion. If we had a house, then I probably would have slammed the door so hard the hinges would fall off. That happened once. I spent the rest of the day fixing, painting, repainting, and oiling all the doors in the house. Of course, being the clumsy person, I ended up getting about twenty splinters.

The door opened and closed quietly. I sank to the ground and sat there, just thinking. And then it happened.

"Hello." A boy with darkeyes and black tousled hair offered his hand. I took it, confused.

"Who…are you?" I stuttered. We were in a haze of white.

He smiled grimly. "Tom Riddle." He hesitated. I knew that look.

I smiled. "Hi. Why do you look so...why are you acting like I'm supposed to crawl back and scream?"

He hesitated again. "I'm…known as…Voldemort." I fought the urge to gasp and started to step back. "Wait! I can explain…" He trailed off. Then he gestured around us. "You've got nowhere to go anyways. I've tried. It's just endless fog."

I looked around. It was true. A few feet away, layer after layer of fog wafted across the infinitive room.

"Explain? Explain how you killed millions of innocent people? Just because of their not following you in killing MORE innocent people?" How could someone explain THAT?

"Yes... Wait, did you say...Millions?" His eyes widened, and the confusion swirled my mind again.

"…You…killed them. What do you mean, 'wait, millions'?" I raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He furrowed his own eyebrows. "I was…not informed of this. Hm. I guess my other part is stronger now. Or stronger back then. I thought…he had only killed hundreds." He started pacing and muttering. "I thought he had grown weak...I felt it...that Potter boy almost killed him...doesn't even have a body...does he?"

"Wait, other part? What? The 'he' is you!"

He breathed a sigh of exasperation. "Can I start from the beginning?"

The beginning. "How do I know you're going to tell me the truth?" I asked suspiciously.

He smirked a little. "You don't."

He sounded so…human. He was young, too. I doubted this was what he looked like now.

"Alright. I'm Celia, by the way." He nodded.

"Where to start...I used to be more human..."

I glanced at him weirdly. "Um…I totally didn't know that. Right. I thought you were…part…donkey or something. Yeah."

"You didn't let me finish!"

Well, you paused, so I thought you were. Don't blame me." I raised my hands in defense.

He smirked. "I'm blaming you."

"Gods, you sound like Draco." I realized my wand wasn't there. "What have you done to my wand?"

"Your wand? Voldemort has mine, so I wouldn't need yours." I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but I needed to find my wand first.

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of trick? You're not going to lure me into some trap and try to get me to join or something? I'm a half-blood, so you might as well kill me now." I started checking my pockets.

"First of all, who asks to be killed? Second of all, do I look like I have pockets?" He was right. Dang. All he had was a navy shirt and jeggings. Not very Voldemort-looking. Not that I knew what Voldie looked like. I pulled out a chocolate frog I had forgotten I had in my pocket.

"Um…okay. You want this?" I tossed him the chocolate. I don't know what was stranger, talking to a friendly part-Voldemort or offering him chocolate. Tom caught it, surprised, and tucked in his sleeve.

I started to swirl. Tom stared for a second, then said,"I have to explain, but there's no time." No time. No time.

"No! You better explain!" I waved at the swirls.

He frowned, and seemed to be pondering something. Finally, he slowly lifted his hands so that two fingers on each hand were pressing his temples. At first, I thought he was miming a gun at his head, which seemed a little weird. Then a strand of wispy green light floated towards me. Tom watched me with a deadpan expression, but I had a feeling he was waiting to see what I would do.

If Voldemort gives you something, you should expect that it isn't anything good. So I surprised myself when I looked Tom in the eye and lifted my palm. The green strand settled on my palm, and when nothing happened, I closed my hand into a fist, then re-opened it. The strand glowed for a moment and vanished. There was a faint glow on my wrist, like a flashing green light, and traveled up my arm to my shoulder, up my neck. My cheek tingled, then my temples, and the swirls of fog drifted closer, so I could only see a shadowy version of Tom.

"You're in for a rude awakening. Bye for now, I guess." Tom smirked again and I disappeared in swirls.

Someone was shaking my shoulder. "Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell, wake up Celia, please wake up!"

"Harry. Stop it. You're shaking her like a rag doll." The shaking stopped.

"We need to take her to the infirmary. She hasn't wakened in ten minutes, and Harry kept shaking her, so she should be up now." Hermione's voice was tinged with worry and panic.

I groaned. "What-" My eyes opened, and the first thing I saw was Harry's wide emerald eyes. I yelped and lifted my head rather unexpectedly.

It hit Harry's head, and we both groaned and held our heads. "Ow…is this my welcome-back-to-consciousness present? Gods, Harry, personal space!" I rubbed my forehead.

He smiled shamelessly. "Sorry."

"Where's Dad?"

"He left for something. But he's going to be back-oh, I think he's back." Ron shot a glance at the door.

"Go! Leave! Before he sees you!" The trio scrambled off after I assured them I was fine-for some reason Harry insisted on staying until I glared at him-and I went inside.

Dad was sitting on the sofa, reading a large(obviously) potions book. I took a deep breath.

"Hi. Before you say anything, I just wanted to say sorry." I sat down next to him, fidgeting. He wasn't making this easy, and I bet thirty Sickles he knew that.

Finally he raised his eyes towards me. "For?" He prompted.

"Um…being rude?" Even though you kind of should be apologizing, too, but I'll just be the responsible one here and shut up.

He stared at me for a second, probably to see if I was really sorry, then got up and left. I sighed and waited to see if he would come back. He did, but not just with himself.

He was holding something large, and tossed it towards me. I caught it and stared at the shape. Thin at the left, and large, clumpy on the right side. There weren't many objects that were like that.

I peeled off the brown paper and pulled out the wooden object. "Y-you got me a broom?" I gasped. Engraved on the side read, in gold letters, Firebolt.

I stared at him stupidly, and wondered for a minute if it was Harry's. Then it dawned on me it was actually mine, and I clapped hands over my mouth.

"OH MY GODS! YES! YES! YES! YES! THANK YOU! YES-wait. You're not going to ride with me, right?" I stopped squealing and froze awkwardly.

Dad shook his head firmly. "I will be keeping both feet on the ground."

I grinned slyly. "You wouldn't fit, anyways." He rolled his eyes, I hugged him, he smirked, and after thanking him a million times already until he threatened he'd take it away if I didn't stop saying "thank-you-thank-you" over and over again, we both escaped to our rooms.

I sighed and tenderly set the Firebolt on the corner of my room. Flopping onto the covers gratefully, I couldn't stop smiling.

I think my eardrums popped. It was a clear thought, and not from me. The voice was oddly familiar. Tom?!

No, it's Alice in the Wonderland. I felt an image of Tom rolling his eyes.

How is this…possible? I sat straight up, and a part of me told me that I was basically talking to Voldemort.

The green wisp-hey! I'M NOT VOLDEMORT! Stop thinking that! So much for privacy in my brain.

Can I call you Voldy Moldy?

…No. I'm only fourteen, I'm not him YET. I felt his huff of annoyance.

This was fun, even though the person I was mind-talking to was the kid-Voldemort.

Well, you're Voldy Moldy until you explain to me how the heck you're only 'part of Voldemort' and fourteen. Are there more parts of you?

He winced. Yes. Except I don't think…Dumbledore would want you to know. I could hear a hint of uncomfortable uneasiness when he said the Headmaster's name, and there was a sudden wave of nervousness.

You don't like Dumbledore?

I don't…hate him. He just makes me uncomfortable. And when the other part of me started becoming a killer or something, he made me even more uncomfortable. I don't know why I didn't try and stop myself when I was stronger. Now I'm just a memory in the back of his head. Maybe even a nuisance. He sounded bitter.

If anybody's a nuisance, it's Voldemort. He's just a pest. But some pests are just…harder to defeat, I guess.

But if I had just tried to stop myself…you don't…I killed your friend's parents! And don't you have a mud-sorry, muggleborn friend? What if Voldemort kills her?

Then it won't be your fault. You said you were fourteen? I'm thirteen. So stop making me feel like I have to comfort you, shut up, and explain.

You're a defiant one. Well, when I was still-I feel like I'm insulting myself here, bloody hell-normal, I didn't run around screaming Unforgivables. Until one day there was a part of me that told me to try Imperio, and I tried it until it got…fun. Then I tried Crucio, on a muggleborn, and that was when I started changing. A small part of me stayed like I am now, and...the rest of me just kind of became the murderer you know now.

I wasn't expecting that. Wait-I didn't mean to think that! Ugh. I still can't trust you, I hope you know that, no offense or anything. But maybe I can if you don't, like, try to kill me or something, and we can get to know each other-

NO! The word knocked out my thoughts, and I had an image of him breathing heavily.

Um...okay. I just thought-

No, that's not what I meant. My other part of me-I'll just say Voldemort-he can pry through my mind, so it's best if I just…barely know anything. Then suddenly he grunted and crumpled to the ground.

Are you okay?!

I need to-he's-Voldemort's…looking for me-painful-need to- His image and his thoughts vanished, cutting off.

I settled down on the bed and hid under the covers, wondering if he was okay.

That was the beginning of our weird mind-friendship thing.