December had arrived far too quickly for Harry's liking, bringing with it progressively colder and more frozen days. A thick blanket of snow had piled up all across the grounds of Hogwarts, to be seen outside every window's ledge whilst infecting the glass with sprawled snowflakes. Every torch and fire had been ignited within the castle, yet this was only a small consolation to the plummeting temperature. It was doubtlessly going to be a very cold winter.
Harry was sitting in the Common Room at this time, reading the last few chapters of one of the ancient volumes dedicated to the subject of Legilimency that he had stolen. He felt as though he was almost improving with Legilimency, but not nearly as much as he was with the Dark Arts, as much as he hated to admit that. He hated every lesson he had to endure with the Death Eaters… but he knew that everything he learnt would only be put to good use, in the end. He could live with it all if he thought of it like that…
There weren't very many students gathered in the Common Room even if it was close to mid evening now, for most of the Slytherins were up in the grounds, enjoying the snow while it was still more interesting than a nuisance. Harry was peacefully reading his book, and wasn't interrupted until he heard someone sit down on the couch opposite him. He looked up, and saw Tom placing a glass enclosure on the low-set coffee table between himself and Harry.
At the sight of the glass enclosure, Harry remembered about the Transfiguration homework they were supposed to be doing. Dumbledore had paired up all of the students in the class, making Tom and Harry work together whilst giving some reason of practising cooperative skills that Harry didn't care about. He was exceedingly annoyed with having to do homework with Riddle no matter what he was supposed to be gaining from it.
Dumbledore hadn't caught onto the notion that Harry and Riddle were generally avoiding each other at this time. Or perhaps the Transfiguration teacher had noticed this, and decided to annoy both of the boys out of curiosity or spite… But Harry had to accept the fact that Dumbledore couldn't possibly have anything against him personally, when he thought about it. This Dumbledore wasn't the same Dumbledore he had known, not quite yet.
"Hello, Jonathan." Said Tom once he was seated. Riddle's tone suggested that he was in denial of the fact that something out of the ordinary had happened between the two boys just over a few weeks ago. Harry had been trying to take much the same approach to the event, but it was harder for him to ignore.
"Hello, Tom…" Harry replied. The square-set placement of the couches and chairs in this part of the Common Room allowed Tom to sit this far away from Harry without seeming too determined in keeping his distance. It was common for the Slytherins to have plenty of personal space, unless a full group – like the Death Eaters – wanted to sit together.
"I hope you don't mind if we start the homework now?" Riddle said, not looking at Harry.
"No, I don't mind," Harry replied. He said no more, and was glad when Tom didn't start up another conversation. They sat in silence for a moment as Tom examined the animal they were to transfigure with interest. Harry couldn't see what they'd be working on yet past the cloth that covered the glass, but he didn't really care. He watched Tom carefully as he smiled faintly at what rested in the enclosure. Riddle obviously enjoyed schoolwork…
Was he gay? Harry had been avoiding asking himself this question for weeks now, putting it off with saying that he has liked both Cho and Ginny… But he had to face it one time or another. The only thing he knew for sure was that he felt as though there was something more to whatever had happened in Transfiguration than just being attracted to Tom – as he tried extremely hard to deny. It wasn't normal to get such a strong reaction from a gesture so simple, especially when it was more the skin on the back of his hand than anything else that had had a peculiar reaction. It wasn't Tom himself, it was something else – it had to be…
Harry examined Riddle more carefully now. He was doubtlessly handsome – it was even more prominent under a watchful examination. His hair was as black as Harry's, but far more neatly kept. His eyes had a dark air about them, which Harry felt gave away his true intentions and personality more than people such as the teachers were willing to accept… but perhaps this being attractive stopped most onlookers from thinking about it too much. His cheeks were not nearly as hollowed as Harry knew they would be only a year from now, when Riddle left Hogwarts to work at Borgin and Burkes, but it was still slightly changed form what Harry had seen of the sixteen year old Tom. Every feature upon Riddle face was masterfully designed, from his straight nose to his stunning but pale complexion, which brought out the best in his beauteous lips…
Harry looked away. This was Voldemort. Lord Voldemort. This boy had murdered three people already, and would evidently go on to murdering one more, Hepzibah Smith, in a year's time. Riddle was the soul reason for all of the terrible things that had ever happened in Harry's life. He was going to cause two terrible Wizarding World Wars, and was going to kill an innumerable amount of people as he did so. He was the greatest Dark Wizard in all of History. There was no chance that he could possibly like Riddle! Harry closed his eyes in annoyance.
Tom's voice suddenly broke Harry's trail of thought, as it so often did.
"Tell me about your past…"
Harry felt a stab of anxiety and annoyance at Riddle's words. "I've already told you everything about my past." Harry said, opening his eyes. "I have nothing left to add."
Harry realised, then, that Riddle was staring at him blankly… and if he wasn't mistaken, it looked as though Tom was a little bewildered. This confused Harry. It wasn't as though that was an irrational thing to have said. It was true… But then he looked down to what Riddle was holding. It was the animal from the glass enclosure. A snake.
As if to clarify what on earth had just happened, the snake that weaved in and out of Tom's long, thin fingers hissed quietly, "Two who speak the language of serpents… One is a peculiarity in itself… It is an honour…"
The two boys stared at one another for a long time as the serpent stopped talking. Harry felt as though his mind was jammed, he couldn't think. All he could do was feel waves of terror crash over him. Tom broke the silence.
"You speak it?"
Harry didn't know to reply to this. Only a few seconds passed, however, before both boys realised that some of the Death Eaters were coming back into the Common Room, soaking wet from the weather outside, and all wearing cheerful expressions. They sat down around Harry and Tom, not noticing the expressions of the two boys. Avery took a seat next to Harry.
"You wouldn't believe how easy it is to scare them Mudbloods with an exploding snowball." Avery said, sharing a childish grin with a few of the other Death Eaters. "We managed to smash one of the windows of the school though, so we had to make a run for it – Hey, where you going Jonathan?"
Harry had stood up; glad for this distraction so he could get away from the still curious stare that Tom was giving him. "I just remembered that I have more homework to finish in the Library…" Harry lied, picking up his rucksack and moving away from where everyone sat.
"What? C'mon, homework can wait. I want to tell you about what happened to Linda Anthony!"
Harry didn't reply, heading towards the exit to the Slytherin Common Room.
~&~
December was passing too quickly. This had been happening since Slughorn had asked who would be staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, and Harry had realised that all of the Death Eaters were going home. He knew that little or no break at all from anxiety would be known to him over the winter holiday, for even before the school term ended Harry could sense that Tom wanted to ask him a whole number of questions – starting with how he had obtained the skill of parseltongue.
Harry didn't have an answer. It had been weeks now, and he couldn't think of a single lie. It kept him awake for hours some nights, eating away at him as he tried to see a way out of it all. Tom would have checked through hundreds of books over the years to find out who was and who wasn't part of the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin, and on a revaluation Harry wouldn't fit anywhere on it. Even if Tom supposed that they were brothers for a moment, there was always the fact that no one ever talked about Merope having had more than one son, so no lie could be told concerning that.
There was only one option left for Harry now, and that was for him to wait until Tom found an answer that fitted. It was in Riddle's personality to stop at nothing to know the truth, so Harry would have to leave his fate in the observant hands of the Dark Lord, as much as it sickened him to accept. It had been a terrible mistake for him to speak Parseltongue, even unknowingly, when Tom was already so curious to understand what had happened when their hands met. This was a mistake he was going to live to regret, he feared.
On the day when the Hogwarts Express was going to take most of the school home for the holidays, Harry felt sick. He had said goodbye to the Death Eater shortly, and made his way up through the deserted school to submerge himself in more Legilimency books, trying to not think about when he would have to return to the Slytherin Common Room later on. He just wanted to read, and forget everything for a while.
He was getting better at Legilimency. Though he was still extremely slow at learning the skill, he was sure that within a month or two he'd be able to read the minds of most of the people around him – excluding any Occlumens. He wasn't sure if the day for Riddle to question his Legilimency would come any time soon, but he wanted to be prepared. If he couldn't help things such as Parseltongue or whatever happened when he touched Riddle's skin, he was going to be prepared for this.
But Harry was doubtful about a lot of things, at this time. He knew that if he messed up with any of the questions with no answers, he could simply run away from everything concerning the wars to come in the future… but deep down he knew that he couldn't do that, not now. He wanted to continue pretending to be a Death Eater, so he could watch everything and understand the war more clearly than he ever had with hearing about it from the Order of the Phoenix so uncommonly. He wanted to fix everything this time around, to make a difference in the world…
Yet at times he wanted to run away from it all, to hide somewhere and be content with the currently calm world – he couldn't deny that. His whole life had revolved around this war, so surely he deserved a break? But no, he didn't. Not now. He deserved nothing more than to finish what he had been brought up to do… With this much time ahead of him, with the chance of preparing all the fighters against Voldemort properly, he couldn't back down. He would risk his life again, if it came down to that. He had to…
It was getting dark outside before Harry finally accepted the fact that he would have to return to the Slytherin Common Room some time or another. He knew the library was going to close in about ten minutes, so he got up, still wearing the invisibility cloak, and put the stolen books back into his bag. He left the library, and made his way down the deserted corridors that lead him towards the Slytherin Common Room. He hoped that Tom was busy with reading at this time, so he could head towards the boys dormitory without comment.
There didn't seem to be any Slytherins left when Harry arrived in the Common Room. It was a known fact that most of the students in this house had rich, pureblooded families, with parents as ambitious as any of Slytherin's students, so it didn't surprise Harry that everyone had decided to go home to their spoiling mothers and fathers. But knowing that there was a reason explaining why the room was so empty didn't make Harry feel any less uneasy.
He saw Riddle, the only person present, sitting at the usual table where the Death Eaters gathered. He was reading a book, and didn't seem to have noticed Harry entering the Common Room through the un-solid wall that every Slytherin could walk through after giving the password. Harry made his way across the room without haste and lingered a little less than ten feet away from Tom. The later looked up from the book he was reading at the sound of Harry's footsteps.
"Hello, Jonathan." Said Tom. "I was wondering when you'd come back to the Common Room…" He turned back to look down at his volume he held after a moment, so Harry decided that it wouldn't be rude of him to not socialise.
"Hey," Harry replied. "Er, I'm going to go and read in the dormitories. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all." Riddle replied, still reading. "I'm used to spending the holidays alone. I prefer it that way."
"Right." Harry said, not surprised. "Well, if you need anything…"
He turned away from the still reading Riddle, and made his way to the dormitories. It was close to nine O'clock now, and Harry hoped that Tom wouldn't go to bed until at least eleven, when Harry could technically be asleep. Harry would read until that time, he knew. He wanted to spend the holidays becoming a Legilimens, because he had nothing else to do.
He sat down on his bed when he arrived in the dormitories, and turned on the light resting on his bedside table. He pulled off his heavy rucksack and extracted the ancient volumes from it, picking up the particular one he was about a quarter of the way through. He wondered, then, whether Riddle had ever noticed that he had to have been stealing these books from the Restricted Section of the Library… Yet even if Tom did know, it wasn't as though he could or would really do anything about it. Harry sat back against the pillows of his bed and began to read.
Barely an hour passed, however, when the door to the dormitory opened again and Riddle walked in the room. Harry looked up from his book, annoyed at the sight of the taller boy, but intent upon being impassive.
"Don't mind me, I'm merely passing by." Riddle said, not really caring whether this bothered Harry due to the fact that he was supposed to be Harry's leader.
"No, I don't mind…" Harry replied vaguely, not returning to his book. He watched as Riddle made his way to one of the beds across the room, and started gathering objects that suggested he was going to take a bath, or shower. Harry looked away, glad to know that Tom would be gone for about an hour longer after this for sure.
Harry read on, at a slower pace than usual, for he was still somewhat distracted by the presence of the other Slytherin. He waited until he heard Riddle's footsteps head towards him and the exit to the room, before he felt a little relief. But this was shortly lived, for Riddle stopped walking as he reached the end of Harry's bed. He looked up.
"Jonathan," Tom started carefully, "I was wondering if you could answer a question I've been trying to work out the answer to for a while…"
Riddle was leaning against one of the supporters at the end of Harry's four-poster bed, careful to keep his distance, as always. Harry knew this meant that Riddle wanted to ask one of the two questions he really didn't want to answer, and Harry felt another wave of anxiety at the very idea of blundering out an answer right now.
"Sorry," He said, knowing that an excuse was the only way out, "But I have a lot of work outside schoolwork to get on with…"
He averted his eyes from the other Slytherin after he said this, choosing instead to look down at the book he was holding. To Harry's dismay, however, Riddle did not leave so soon. He looked up again after a pause.
Riddle was examining his expression, wearing an impassive countenance himself. After a long pause, where Harry tried hard to be as expressionless as Tom, Riddle spoke. "All who fall under your gaze become accused of a silent crime… and I am yet to understand why."
Harry did not reply, but it appeared that Riddle did not expect anything to be said after this. Slowly he straightened up from leaning against the bedpost, and walked from the room without another word. Harry paused, slightly confused as to what Riddle had meant by that… the more Harry thought about it, the more his mind allowed him to believe that this was a form of a warning to tell him that Riddle wasn't giving up until he found a fitting story. He had mentioned Harry's expression… was that to point out that even if Harry apparently knew Occlumency, Riddle supposed himself better at seeing and working out what Harry was feeling, and what he was hiding?
Harry felt sick again. He looked over to where Riddle's bed rested as if this would help him understand the Heir of Slytherin more clearly. His jaw clenched for a moment as he thought, feeling the pressure of this endless game weigh upon him. He wondered whether Riddle was more curious about the Parseltongue or the reaction they both had when their skin touched… But he supposed that the idea of Harry being a parselmouth would be an easier thing for Riddle to ask about.
As Harry looked over to Riddle's bed, he saw that Tom had left a book lying on the blankets. Having no motivation left to read about Legilimency, Harry stood up, and made his way over to the other boy's bed. He lingered by it for only a second before picking up the volume that rested, lying open, with a page saved. He was about to read what was written, before he noticed that it wasn't in English. He frowned, never having thought about Tom knowing another language before… As Harry looked, he supposed it was written in German, for he thought that he recognised some of the simple German words.
He wanted to know what the book was about, but none of the words on the pages he flicked through made any sense to him. He gave up looking after a while, and rested the book back on the bed, how it was when he found it. He looked up at the shelf above Tom's bed, seeing all the books nearly stacked, not a speck of dust, or a single item out of line besides for the book on the bed… except Harry now realised that that too was organised, parallel to the bed around it.
The more Harry examined where Riddle lived, the more he felt the nagging suspicion that Tom might, perhaps, have OCD. His bed was by far the most neatly kept of all the beds in the dormitory, and everything just seemed far too orderly. Harry thought this rather fitted who Tom would become in the future. He had never really cared to think of it before, but for Riddle suffering from obsessive–compulsive disorder might explain a few things…
Then, quite suddenly, Harry saw it. Bathed in the dim light being cast by the lamp on Tom's bedside table was the shiny gold and black ring. Harry stared. He felt as though his mind had been wiped of all thought… Riddle must have taken it off for some unknown reason, and left it here. Maybe it was his OCD… but Harry didn't care why it was where it was. All he cared about was that this was, as he knew, The Resurrection Stone…
He felt as though something was pressing hard against his lungs, not accepting the air around him to breath. Here was the ring that he had thought about so carefully whenever he missed all of the people who had left him, all the people who had died in his lifetime… Never once had he actually considered there being a chance for him to get hold of the ring. But here, without denial, was the perfect chance to use it. He was still frozen with shock.
The sign of the Deathly Hallows was clearly displayed on the black stone set securely in gold, but Harry didn't know whether this scared him or made him feel immense happiness. He felt nerves twist and coil in his stomach like live snakes, and then, slowly, he extended his hand to take the ring. He held the ring in his hand, examining it as his pulse began to pound in his ears. He didn't really know how to use the stone yet, for he had never actually held the ring himself. He had only ever seen it in Dumbledore's office, and dreamed about it in all those nights spent camping with Ron and Hermione.
He had hoped for months on end that perhaps Dumbledore had left this ring inside the golden snitch, but he had never worked out what the snitch was for either. Harry had come to the conclusion, as he stayed at Hogwarts in this year, that the snitch been nothing more than a ruse, a distraction to keep him wondering and full of hope until he was to learn the truth… He felt a wave of loathing at thought of Dumbledore, but he ignored that. He wanted, finally, to awaken the dead.
As Harry thought about the Deathly Hallows, he felt as though he understood how it was that The Resurrection Stone worked. Closing his eyes, he held the ring in his right hand, and twirled it three times, thinking about the people that he wanted to bring back. Harry paused for a few frozen seconds after this, his heart still pounding and his eyes still closed, until he heard the soft rustling noises of people moving around him. He opened his eyes. They had arrived.
