"How many Muggles died in total?" Mulciber asked.

"About seven, if you count the attack in Iceland. Two Muggles were also pretty badly injured."

"Do we know who's killing them yet?"

"Nah," Avery replied, "but the Prophet now says for sure that it's more than one person. Them two Wizards in Russia who were caught killing that Muggle are in prison, but attacks are still going on over there."

"They might even be part of some group," Nott suggested. "Although… they didn't seem very clever about getting away from the crime scene."

"The Muggle did die, though" Mulciber reasoned.

Nott smirked.

"This is brilliant," Dolohov commented, as he stared down at the newspaper in Avery's hands. "Seven Muggle murders in a month had to be a record, so far."

"Seven known Muggle murders in a month," Lestrange corrected him from across the table. "They could be covering up worse attacks, and could have not found out about some of them. Don't you remember the Muggle woman they found in Italy?"

"Oh, yeah… That was mental," Dolohov grinned.

"The point is, it looks like hate towards the Muggles is spreading," Avery stated, "and it's gunna be a hell of a lot more popular by the time we get out of Hogwarts, at this rate."

Many more of the Death Eaters smiled with Avery at this.

"I just want to know how many of the Muggles have been attacked in general, and not just killed, or nearly killed," Nott claimed.

"That could be an endless list, if you count everything," Lestrange answered.

"Why doesn't the Prophet talk about them, then?" Mulciber asked.

"No one wants to hear about the boring tricks people play on the Muggles," Lestrange explained, "and the papers probably don't want to show just how many Muggles are being attacked by us."

"Well," Nott snorted in laughter, "for people who are trying to hide how may Muggles are being attacked, the papers aren't doing a very good job."

It had been announced in the Daily Prophet that a family of four Muggles had been found dead in their home in West Germany in the early hours of this morning, and Harry had been listening to what the Death Eaters thought about this in their delight. The Muggles had been placed under a number of somewhat dark and illegal curses before the gory torture had finally come to a slow end. Scarcely any evidence could be found at the scene of the crime, which had been burnt down minutes after the whole family had died, and no Wizards had yet been linked to the murders.

Harry knew this wasn't likely to have been Grindelwald, or even some of his proper followers, yet it was obvious that whoever had assaulted these Muggles had the same motives and beliefs as him. As Harry was reminded from the conversations the Death Eaters were holding, this wasn't the first – and definitely wasn't the last – attack upon the Muggles that the Daily Prophet was going to report. Muggle hatred was increasing.

It was Saturday the ninth of June, and Harry was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall with Tom and the Death Eaters for breakfast. The sky that could be seen through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was a clear, light blue, and the sun was shining down upon the grounds of Hogwarts warmly. Harry could barely remember how the last three quarters of a month had passed. He had been studying almost nonstop with all of the other sevenths years for his NEWTs, which had only ended on Thursday morning.

He really wasn't at all sure how well he had done in his Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology exams, but he assumed that he got somewhat acceptable marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions. Tom did better than him in even Defence Against the Dark Arts, of course, and he was likely to have achieved 'Outstanding' in all the other classes he took, but Harry didn't actually mind. He was just glad that the pressure that came with the exams had passed. He and Tom finally had more time alone, for even the Death Eaters had fallen into the habit relaxing in other parts of the school, leaving them alone.

When breakfast came to an end, most of the Death Eaters drifted away from the Great Hall in small groups, which left Harry and Tom almost the only students left at the table. Now that the Death Eaters were away, they were free to talk to each other quietly. Tom offered the idea of them to taking a walk in the grounds, and Harry had accepted happily, knowing that they would have hours to talk to each other in peace there.

"How many days do we have left at Hogwarts now?" Harry asked Tom as they stood up to leave.

"Just two," Tom had replied. "Not counting the day we actually leave, on the twelfth."

Harry smiled a little at this. Many students were wandering through the entrance hall blissfully, as sunshine from the brightly lit grounds flooded in past the open oak front doors. He wanted to talk about their plans for after school again with Tom, but before he could even open his mouth to continue a conversation that would lead to that, a voice rang out across the hall towards them.

"Smith, may I have a word with you?"

Harry and Tom both turned around to look at Dumbledore on hearing Harry's fake surname being called. Dumbledore's countenance was tranquil, and was standing only about three quarters of the way across the entrance hall, and still nearing them. Harry supposed from this that he had sought him out of the crowed intentionally, instead of randomly.

"Of course, Professor," Harry responded out of habit. He couldn't imagine what Dumbledore would want to speak to him about…

"You don't mind if I speak to you in my office, I hope?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, no I don't mind."

Harry glanced at Tom, who stared at Dumbledore, every detail of his handsome face unreadable.

"Alone, of course," Dumbledore added, as he looked at both Harry and Tom.

"Right…"

Tom turned to look at Harry, his expression never changing. "I'll be in the Common Room," he said quietly.

Harry merely nodded, and Tom turned to leave. He felt somewhat empty at this, but he knew that he couldn't give Tom a more expressive goodbye. He hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't keep him for long, at the very least, as he followed the Transfiguration Professor in the opposite direction, and up the marble staircase. Harry still couldn't think of what this could be about. They were silent as they walked towards their destination.

Dumbledore's office was small yet comfortable, with wooden panelling running across the lower half of the walls, and diagrams relating to fields of difficult Transfiguration and other subjects placed on the upper half. Two windows could be seen on the far left corner of the room, with a desk in front of them facing the entrance where Harry now stood. Harry was surprised to see that he recognised a few of the silver instruments that would one day be placed in Dumbledore's office when he became headmaster, currently resting upon a cupboard full of documents written on old parchment. A clock rested amongst the instruments, it's face displaying a replica of the solar system rather than a circle of twelve numbers.

Dumbledore had sat down at his desk, and he now indicated for Harry to sit on the chair sitting opposite him. Harry sat, watching as Dumbledore surveyed him in the same way Harry remembered him doing in his real school years. There was another minute of silence, before Harry averted his eyes to the view of the sky outside. He hated looking at Dumbledore a lot of the time.

"I'm sorry I have to distract you from relaxing after the stress of NEWTs," Dumbledore began.

Harry contemplated replying the predictable: 'Oh, I don't mind, professor', but he decided against it as he looked at his old headmaster again. "What did you want to talk about, sir?" he asked, trying to withhold the cold tone that he was so very tempted to use. His voice was close to a monotone as a result.

"There are many things that I wish to speak of, yet I'm not sure if we shall have time to go into full inquires about them all," Dumbledore stated. "For now, I believe we should discuss the subject of Tom Riddle."

Of course, Dumbledore wanted to speak about Tom… and probably the Death Eaters too. Harry felt rather annoyed at this, knowing that Dumbledore was likely expecting him to spill the secrets of his fellow Slytherins after just one conversation. Harry didn't consider the Death Eaters his friends – in fact, they were far from it – but he wasn't going to tell this old fool anything he had discovered about them. He wondered how Dumbledore was planning to make him speak.

Unless Dumbledore suspected or knew for sure that Harry and Tom were boyfriends… If he wanted to speak about that, Harry was sure that Dumbledore was even less likely to get the information he evidently wanted.

"I'm not quite sure there's much to talk about on the subject of Tom Riddle, sir," Harry replied.

Dumbledore continued to survey Harry, his piercing blue eyes never leaving Harry's green ones. "I think you will find that you are quite wrong with such an assumption," he asserted.

Harry made no reply to this, for he was sure that Dumbledore was going to consider every expression he wore, and every word he said.

"You have become quite close to Tom Riddle over the last few months, I believe?"

"I suppose so," Harry said.

"This is quite rare, for Tom," Dumbledore observed. "He has never shown particular attachment to any of his other friends."

Friends. That had to be a purposefully essential word chosen by Dumbledore to bring Harry's attention to the fact that Tom didn't have any friends; he only had the Death Eaters, who were his followers, and Harry, who had become far more significant than a friend.

"We have some similarities," Harry said lamely, not caring at all how Dumbledore would assume they bonded. He was sure that Dumbledore had his own, never wavering assumptions worked out already.

"You are both orphans, I believe?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry hesitated. He had never really thought about it before, but he wondered now what Dumbledore thought of the fact that his parents had died. Harry had never actually said anything to the professors at this school about his past. The Death Eaters thought he had lived on his own since the age of around seven, Tom was sure he was brought up in a Wizarding orphanage and trained in grey magic later on by some old family friends who had adopted him, the Ministry didn't even know or care what his past was, and the professors at Hogwarts were probably still wondering about his situation, if they cared at all.

It was actually quite a huge series of lies, on reflection… "Yes, we're both orphans," Harry claimed.

"Would you say you understood Tom well?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry was glad that Dumbledore hadn't pushed the subject of his life story, but he was still trying to work out where Dumbledore might be trying to lead the conversation. "That's something your probably better off asking him, sir."

"But you consider him a good friend? Someone you are likely to stay in contact with after you both leave Hogwarts?"

"Yes, and probably," Harry replied shortly.

Dumbledore paused after this, watching Harry more carefully than ever. Harry was annoyed that Dumbledore was wasting his time with these empty questions. He couldn't see how this was related to anything. Even if Dumbledore was trying to work out whether or not Harry and Tom were together, these questions didn't seem very insightful to any conclusions. Surely Dumbledore should quit asking things so blatantly, since Harry wasn't encouraging this tactic at all…

"Then there is one thing I'd like to inform you on before you leave this school, and continue contact with Tom," Dumbledore stated.

Harry watched as his old headmaster brought the tips of his fingers together, and a sudden, very small, feeling of foreboding filled him. He tried to push that inkling away, knowing that nothing Dumbledore would say could do any harm to him. He already knew everything about Tom, after all. Dumbledore was surveying Harry very carefully, almost as though he was keen on comparing Harry's expression now to his reaction later.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Dumbledore began calmly, "is, in the most literal context… a psychopath."

There was a pause. The only sound in the room now was coming from the clock that rested on the cupboard behind Harry, ticking far more than sixty beats a minute for all he could tell in his bewildered state. What on earth did Dumbledore mean by this? Was this some sort of test to see what Harry would say? Was it a trick to make him speak? Harry's mind, much like his heart, was suddenly racing.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked cautiously, his disoriented mind trying to remember what the definition of a psychopath was. He knew Tom was a murderer, and he knew he would do a lot of horrible things… but this sounded worse, somehow.

"It means that Tom lacks both a conscience and the ability to empathise with others," Dumbledore stated. "Psychopaths are exceedingly egocentric, and will use a whole number of set tactics to fulfil their own needs and gain power over others, including manipulation, charm, violence, intimidation, and sexual activity. They have a shocking lack of remorse and guilt, which perhaps influences the pride they take in relation to any crimes they may have committed. They do things on impulse or without consideration, and they posses a superficial charm that almost everyone around them will fall for. They do not learn from their mistakes, and they do not take any past failures into consideration when planning their next actions. In short, they lack many of the main characteristics that make somebody a moral and sane human being."

Harry was still staring at Dumbledore, even when he finished this short definition. Harry was bewildered that Dumbledore was even telling him this, and he was even more bewildered that pieces of this information were slowly connecting to Tom in his mind…

"How do you know he's a psychopath?" Harry asked indignantly, not quite sure whether he wanted to hear the answer to this.

"I have noticed psychotic behaviour within Tom since the day I met him in his orphanage, a few weeks prior to his first year at Hogwarts." Dumbledore answered placidly. "I noticed that he had a series of strong behaviour problems, which he fell into the habit of shielding later on, but could never really appear to overcome. He was extremely engaging yet glib to all of his teachers even at the age of eleven, and he almost constantly used pathological lying to make sure they believed his false sincerity. He was so fluent in his lies, in fact, that he managed to convince the entire school that he was and is completely unrelated to any of the suspected activity his friends engage in.

"All psychopaths begin showing symptoms before the age of fifteen," Dumbledore continued at Harry's lack for words, "and Tom personally began showed signs perhaps at around the same age when he learnt how to use magic, doing sinister things to many of the other orphans when growing up. I heard about all of this from the head of the orphanage where Tom lived, who seemed willing enough to discuss the eerie stories that follow Tom. Within his behavioural problems, he stole things, which is another known symptom. In fact, he made a collection of items taken from every orphan he had hurt in some way, and created a sort of private trophy collection to remind him of his successes in mistreating others. This, of course, relates to the pride he takes at the idea of his crimes…"

If this was some sort of joke or test, Harry was sickened by Dumbledore's will to accuse Tom so harshly. Harry's mind seemed to have jammed, and he was feeling nauseous. He didn't want to believe a word of this, he wanted to find reasons why Dumbledore was wrong in such a prejudiced opinion… but was it really a prejudiced opinion when Tom had done nothing yet to offend Dumbledore personally? Harry wasn't in any fit state to dwell upon that thought…

The most sickeningly accurate parallel between Tom and Dumbledore's definition of a psychopath was the supposed lack of remorse and guilt. Ever stained into Harry's mind were the words Tom had spoken after admitting to the murders he had committed. "I feel no regrets about it… I would do it again if I had the chance. I would do it happily." Harry wasn't sure if he had ever really believed those words until now. He had thought that Tom was just trying to draw his attention to the weight of his crimes…

Then, perhaps even more accurately, there was the idea that Tom couldn't empathise or understand the emotions of other people. Memories of almost a month ago, after he and Tom got into a fight about the Death Eaters, came flooding to Harry's mind. "I could never understand their feelings properly before I learnt Legilimency… but I learnt to watch for those important movements and changes in countenance within people. With knowing them, I could create my own reaction to suit that of the other at will. I obsessed over the science of expressions for years… I'm still not sure that I understand some of what they feel, even when I can access the exact emotions…"

Did this mean that Tom couldn't understand the way he, Harry, felt? Harry felt as though a powerful force was closing in around his chest as he struggled more than ever to remain composed. He remembered the day when he brought Hermione, Ron, Lily and Sirius back from the dead. He remembered standing across from Tom when they had left, and how utterly unaffected Tom had been at the sight of his tears. Then there was the day Harry had realised that he shared a piece of Tom's soul that would act as a Horcrux. Again, Tom was distant… but he had said, "You're scaring me." Had that been just a lie? A simple sequence of words said out of confusion, or knowledge gathered through the years relating to the effect of fear?

Harry was frozen in his seat, hardly daring to move. He still hadn't looked up at Dumbledore again, but he knew that expressions probably didn't matter by this point. Anyone would be devastated if someone like Dumbledore had deemed his or her friend or lover a psychopath.

"What's the cure?" he finally managed to ask.

"There isn't one," Dumbledore replied.

Of course there wasn't one. Harry wasn't even sure why he had asked about it. If there were a cure, Dumbledore would have used it already to save hundreds of lives from being taken away by Voldemort's power in the future. Harry's eyes were still resting upon the table in front of him.

"So he's been lying about everything?" he asked quietly.

Dumbledore surveyed him for a long time at this, watching the fear, worry and devastation, which was very lightly noticeable within his otherwise blank expression. "About a lot of things, quite possibly."

Harry suddenly felt empty as he stared at the designs of wood that wove across the surface of the desk. Tom hadn't meant a word he said to him. It had all been a ruse. Every moment he had ever spent in Tom's arms was a lie. In the end, Tom probably only liked him because he was a new secret, a new desire to keep him from becoming bored. A new puzzle to be solved, before Tom had discovered the effects of sharing part of the same soul… Harry was hollow, senseless. He couldn't feel anything besides his beating heart…

"This does not mean that he cannot fall in love," Dumbledore said softly.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore slowly; too numb to care about the fact that Dumbledore was obviously referring to what he had found out about Harry and Tom. He realised, very, very slowly, that if Dumbledore was just saying this to be kind, Tom had lied about ever being in love with him. He could only hope that Dumbledore was right as he stared up at his old headmaster. He wanted to say something, to ask questions in relation to this, but his voice was proving difficult to use.

"There has been much debate amongst both Muggles and Wizards about the exact nature and extent of psychopathy," Dumbledore continued, allowing Harry to remain silent. "Wizards and Muggles share a lack of success in understanding this complex personality disorder, for the use of Magic isn't much of an advantage in solving the puzzle. Some of the more moral researchers on the subject have even joined the Muggles in their studies, but this has brought the world no further in knowledge to the exact nature of psychopathy.

"There has been much debate about whether psychopaths can even feel the same emotions that a normal human feels, minus the anger and hate they tend to resort to in any emotional situation. As a result of their superficial charm, it is quite often that people become attracted to psychopaths, and it is almost as often that a psychopath uses this fact to their advantage. Many family members and current partners are anxious to know whether psychopaths can feel any emotion for the people in their lives, and almost every single doctor, healer, researcher, carer and observer of psychopaths firmly believe that they can indeed not return emotion sincerely, or feel love in any way."

"What?" Harry asked quickly, his mind paralysed as he heard Dumbledore. "But… but you just said that…" Was Dumbledore trying to torture Harry? To play with his emotions to such extreme lengths that he would eventually crack? Harry felt as though he was, as his heart leapt with horror.

"I was merely stating the opinions of other professionals, and avid observers," Dumbledore stated calmly. "My own opinions, however, differ quite greatly." Harry wondered if that had been a test, and he felt a slight pang of annoyance before he listened to Dumbledore continue.

"Love is a rather complex subject that I believe is perhaps too great for the human mind to fully comprehend. There are many assumptions and observations on the subject, yet there are still no set definitions of it in science, art, knowledge, or even by experience. Some call it an obsession, others an uncontrollable force. There have been debates as to whether it truly even exists, whether it is merely psychosocial, and whether it is mere wishful thinking for the hopeless romantic. Yet there is only one thing that is certain: humans have always felt love, in the sense of family affection, friendship, and general romance. I think it would be both bias and uncharitable to assume that psychopaths cannot return affection in any way. Even if they feel love for only a moment, minute, day, month or year of their lives, it is enough to clarify that they can feel emotion in some small context."

For the first time all day, Harry felt pure relief. Even if Tom only meant what he had said for a moment, Harry felt some small hope that he could get over some of the issues that came with psychopathy. He was about to say something to Dumbledore, to share his relief, before the professor spoke again. He had not smiled at Harry's obvious lessening of fear.

"However, since there is still much of a chance for this to be wishful thinking, it would be wise to severe any connections with psychopaths in general. The chance of a relationship coming to a woeful end is far greater than the chance of a psychopath showing any signs of devotion that are actually sincere. It is best to walk away now that you have been warned."

There was another silence here. Harry stared at Dumbledore, almost waiting for him to contradict his words again. But no contradiction came. There was no test this time, no differing opinions from the professionals to him. About a minute passed where Harry sat quite still, waiting for Dumbledore to say it was going to be all right again. He felt sorrow fill his heart for a moment, before it was slowly replaced by anger. How could Dumbledore just sit there and continue allowing Harry to worry like this? How could he have been so indirect about the way in which this conversation would end? How could he stand twisting Harry's emotions so terribly?

"But – but why would you tell me that they can feel love if you were just going to advise me to walk away two minutes later?" Harry stammered. "If they – if they can feel love, and if there is a chance of fixing this–"

"There is no chance of fixing it," Dumbledore stated. "There's merely a chance that it isn't quite as strong a disorder than we fear."

"Then why would you tell me?" Harry asked, his temper rising. "Why would you repeat what real healers and researchers say, then contradict it, if you want me to just walk away from it all?"

"Is it not better to walk away willingly, knowing there could have been a moment in which true love was present, than to be torn apart by the person to whom you were so strongly attached?" Dumbledore asked.

"What? Of course that's not better!" Harry exclaimed, his voice becoming stronger. "If there's still a chance–"

"–Then you should live life knowing it could have been there," Dumbledore interrupted, his tone still calm. "If you really love Tom, it would be best to walk away."

"How would it be best?" Harry asked angrily. "How could that possibly be the solution to anything?"

"Because this is the only possible way you can live your own life well after such a situation," Dumbledore asserted. "It is the only was you can possibly get over love, or at least tame it to be bearable without leaving scars."

"Your wrong," Harry spat. "You're wrong about everything!"

Harry's mind was suddenly searching for reasons to back up such a claim. Why could Tom admit to his murders if he was a psychopath, and apparently felt the need to lie constantly, to conceal the truth, and to gain people's trust? Even if Tom was merely taking pride in his crimes, even if he was just trying to impress Harry in some sickening way, why would be put his reputation amongst everyone else in the world at risk if he didn't feel the need to relate to Harry, to tell him the truth?

Tom could have assumed that Harry's personality wasn't likely to result in spreading secrets, but Harry felt as though there were just too many sincere moments they shared together. "You're the only person I care about," Tom had told him on the day he admitted his murders. "You're the only person I've ever cared about… the only person I've ever felt inclined to tell the truth to."

"Jonathan, there is nothing you can do to change Tom," Dumbledore said. "There is no cure, and the only ending you will meet if you stay with him is death and betrayal. I understand that you–"

"Understand that I what?" Harry asked, seething in anger. "You don't understand anything about me! You don't even know who I am!"

"Yet I fully understand the situation you're in," Dumbledore stated. "I'm only trying to help you see that–"

"I'm not you, and Tom's not Gellert fucking Grindelwald!" Harry bellowed.

He hadn't meant to say it. He wasn't even thinking properly as he chose these words, but he had known somewhere in his mind that this would be a strong repayment for the pain Dumbledore was putting him through. He watched as Dumbledore stared at him, the colour quickly draining from his face. The clock ticked through the silence. Harry's breath was uneven from rage, and he was shaking. Dumbledore had no clue how different they really were… and Harry had perhaps no clue how they had suffered in similar ways. Harry's heart felt as though it was being crushed, and his mind thought on.

"He's the only person I have left," Harry almost whispered, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands. "I don't care what he is, and what he'll do."

Dumbledore and Harry stared at each other for a moment more, before Harry stood up, and left the office, leaving Dumbledore bewildered and perhaps even a little scared. His heart was suddenly aching more than ever, and he knew that he needed to be alone, to think.