Chapter 8

For the rest of the week's Potion lessons Harry continued to follow the book owner's (who turned out to be a person named the Half-Blood Prince) instructions wherever they deviated from the text which resulted in Slughorn raving about Harry's abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented, and more than delighted to see that he has two students in the form of Harry and his brother. Neither Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this, however. Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on what she called the "official" instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince's.

Harry found that he was actually slowly learning from the Prince. Especially since James took the book and had a tendency to quiz Harry whenever he felt like it. They both wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented Harry from reading the whole of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what seemed like spells that the Prince had made up for himself.

Cormac McLaggen didn't seem to stop in his advances for Harry. Every now and then he popped up to talk with Harry, asking him if they could talk in private and reminding Harry about the modeling offer. Cormac always smiled at Harry, making sure that their eyes meet until the only thing that Harry could see was the blonde's face. Every time Cormac talked with him, Harry started to blush and hesitated more and more until saying no. Cormac's smirk seemed to slowly break his defenses until on Thursday night, on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry agreed.

"Awesome! You'll won't be disappointed Harry," the brash Gryffindor smiled. "Come on!" He took Harry's hand and pulled the small boy with him back to Gryffindor Tower and away from James. "I have so many clothes to show you Harry," Cormac said. "You're going to love all of them."

"O-Okay," Harry said trying to keep up with the tall muscular Gryffindor. They made their way through the corridors, passing a confused looking Ron, and up to Gryffindor Tower. They've gotten strange looks as they went through the portrait and up the stairs to the seventh-year boy's dormitory. The room was empty and Cormac asked Harry to lock the door, which he did. "Take off your robes Harry, get comfortable," Cormac smirked, pointing to his bed. The trunk in front of it was already opened. "I'll show you some really good clothes for you."

"Okay…" Harry blushed surprised to find himself smiling. Cormac shared the smile and pulled off his own set of robes. He kneeled in front of his trunk and began to rummage through it before pulling out a black transparent shirt. "I have a friend who loved wearing these," Cormac said. "Muggle, great guy, and he really opened my eyes to a lot of things. Like wearing these." Cormac stood up and held the shirt in front of him smirking. "They make you feel sexually powerful wearing them, and very enticing to look at. Especially if the guy has his nipples pierced like my friend. I'm actually thinking of doing that after graduating Hogwarts."

Cormac gave Harry a wink and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing more and more muscles. Harry gasped and blushed. Cormac's body was visually perfect. His pecs were fully formed, two huge muscles that looked like perfect pillows; his body had a V-shape with perfectly shaped and visible abs. Harry felt his pants tightening as his face turned red.

"You look cute blushing," Cormac said. "I think I should keep you blushing all the time."

"Cormac, you wouldn't—"

Cormac laughed and allowed his shirt to fall to the ground, his sun-kissed body seemingly shimmering in the torch-light. "Like what you see Harry?" Cormac asked innocently. He raised a hand and brushed it against his dusty-pink nipple, biting his lower lip as he stared at Harry, whose pants continued to tighten around his member as it grew. "Y-Yeah," he blushed.

"Good. Don't be ashamed… but I'm not done yet," Cormac said, rubbing his body some more. Harry just stared. His hands started to itch as he had to fight an urge to reach out and touch. He felt a heat beginning to rise deep inside him, slowly consuming his body as he stifled a moan. Cormac's eyes seemed to mesmerize him, his body became hypnotic as the boy began to thrust and move his body seductively, touching himself every now and then before grabbing the black transparent shirt. He dragged the fabric across his chest slowly, teasing his own hardening nipples before whipping it playfully at Harry who jumped slightly. Cormac took a step closer to Harry, bending slightly, and whispered, "Do you want to touch me Harry? You can, you have permission. Touch my chest Harry, feel my muscles in your hands."

Harry moaned, his hands moving by themselves as they reached for Cormac's chest, resting them on Cormac's muscles and dragged them down slowly, earning a deep moan from the older teen. Harry's face was fully red, the strange heat growing inside of him as his slowly lost control of his body, letting a primal lust take over. Every stroke of his hands across Cormac's body earned him another moan and Harry found his hands slowly etching their way downwards, tracing Cormac's abs and to the edge of his pants. Harry looked up for a moment, his eyes meeting Cormac's, and leaned forward, his tongue poking out as he gave Cormac's bellybutton a hesitant lick. Cormac rested his hand on Harry's head, pushing him gently closer to his body.

"You like my body Harry? You like licking it?"

Harry blushed and nodded, not knowing where this lust was coming from. He never acted like this before.

"Lick away Harry," Cormac smiled. "Lick my body all you want, then dress me with this shirt." Cormac's hand left Harry's hair for a second only for Harry to feel the soft feather-light texture of the transparent shirt across the back of his neck, resting on his shoulders. Harry moaned and his hands reached for the side of McLaggen, holding the older boy in place as his tongue started to lick it's way across Cormac's body, tracing the outline of his abs, leaving a line of spit and saliva as he goes. Cormac's moans encouraged the lust-induced Harry. He traveled up Cormac's body, his tongue finding Cormac's nipples which he bit down and sucked. "Good baby," Cormac moaned, his hand rubbing the back of Harry's head, pushing him closer to his muscles. "Suck me up Harry. You like that don't you?"

Harry moaned.

"Do you have any other kinks baby? Anything I should know to make you a happy boy?" Cormac asked.

His mind filled with lust, Harry looked up at Cormac, breathing in the boy's musk and cologne. The mixed scent made Harry's mind go crazy, his lust and need increasing as the heat inside him grew and grew, making his cock hard and weeping. Any sense he had was gone as he opened his mouth and said, "Krum… my first boyfriend… had muscles like you. I love muscles… I need them to feel safe. …and… and he once called me… his little wife."

"Little wife?" Cormac smirked. "Is that what you want Harry? Do you want to be my little wife?" He asked, chuckling slightly.

"I—I don't know," Harry blushed.

"Mrs. Harry McLaggen, my little wife. I'll dress you in in little skirts and everything," Cormac said. Harry's face couldn't get redder as a moan slipped out. "That's it girl, come on. Dress your husband now."

Harry's moved back and took the transparent shirt off of the back of his neck and held it in front of Cormac. The wiry-haired Gryffindor held his arms out and Harry slowly slipped the shirt on one sleeve at a time, licking Cormac's biceps as he got near them. "Good girl," Cormac said. "Good girl… give your husband a kiss now."

Harry looked at Cormac and kissed him lightly, but Cormac grabbed his body and shoved his tongue down Harry's throat. In his lust-filled mind Harry moaned, his hormones going wild as he found himself submitting to McLaggen's kiss, his body pressing against Cormac's.

"Come on girl, let me see your body now," Cormac breathed. "Let me see your boobs."

Harry nodded and slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, his body moving by its own revealing his small frame and two pink perky nipples that stood for attention. Cormac smirked at them and flicked one nipple. "Too small, Harry, too small," he said shaking his head lightly. "Your breasts are too small to be my wife's. How are you going to breastfeed our babies, silly?"

Harry blushed.

"Don't worry Harry, I'm sure there are some spells to fix that problem. My wife needs the perfect breasts for the perfect husband," McLaggen said.

Somewhere deep in Harry's mind, his conscience was screaming, yelling at Harry to snap out of whatever spell McLaggen placed him on. His body felt like it was on fire. He was a boy! He loved being a boy! He didn't want to be a girl! It was just a joke, a comment Krum made while they were together! Why was McLaggen's comments making him feel so strange?

Cormac's hands brushed against Harry's chest. "Small breast would look perfect on you, baby," he said. "But for now… let me get you some nice clothes."

McLaggen turned around, the transparent shirt swinging lightly in the breeze, and in that moment, with the connection between their eyes destroyed, Harry felt his senses return to him. Panic took over. His body started to hyperventilate as he slowly gathered his clothes. He couldn't get dress and run, not without McLaggen noticing. His body still felt sickly hot, he couldn't understand why, it was as if something deep inside him woke up, something that he didn't understand. There was something about McLaggen that scared him, something that caused the heat inside him to awaken.

"I have so many clothes for you to try on Harry, you'll look so sexy in these," McLaggen said, still kneeling in front of his trunk.

Harry had one moment, he needed to leave. He pointed his wand at the door and silently unlocked it. He only had one change. If he ran, he knew that Cormac would chase, he needed to lose the Gryffindor and get to his brother.

"Maybe some leather? No, no my wife won't wear any leather," McLaggen said aloud as he continued rummaging through the trunk.

This was it, his one chance. Harry gathered his robes, made sure his shirt was secured onto him despite being unbuttoned, and practically flew off of McLaggen's bed. His footsteps pounded on wooden floor and McLaggen looked up from his trunk just as the door slammed closed. In his hurry, Harry did not think of locking the door behind him, all he wanted, all he needed in his desperation was to find James.

What was he thinking? Why was he acting like that? Harry couldn't understand why he would act that way, why he would do the things he did—say the things he say! He's not a wife! He's not a wife! He's not a wife! He's a boy, a male, a man. He can't be a wife—he doesn't want to be a wife! What was wrong with him?

Tears started to fall from Harry's eyes. He could hear Cormac's voice from behind him. He ignored it, he just ran out of the common room, through the portrait hole, and into the corridors of Hogwarts. On and on he ran, holding his robes close to his chest. Chest not boobs, Harry had to remind himself. I'm a boy! I'm a boy! I don't want to be a wife!

The strange heat slowly died away as he continued to run, getting further and further away from Gryffindor Tower. He found that he was heading back to the Great Hall. Maybe they were still eating dinner, maybe they would still be there.

Harry reached the entrance hall and cried out a noise of relief when he saw James and Ron walking out the Great Hall, talking aimlessly. "James!" he cried out. The two boys looked up at Harry. The small boy grabbed James's hand and continued running, needed to be away from everyone.

"Harry—Harry where were you? You didn't come to dinner," James said as he ran with Harry, Ron following after. Neither of them noticed a certain blonde boy following them from a distance. Harry ran into a nearby room with James. Ron closed the door behind them to see that Harry was already crying in James's arms.

"I'm a boy, I'm a boy, I'm a boy, I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm a gay boy," Harry freaked out. "I don't want to be a wife—I don't want to!"

"Harry, Harry, calm down Harry! What happened?" James said, hugging his brother close. Ron watched apprehensively, feeling he was witnessing something he shouldn't have. He never saw his friend cry, and somehow the sight of Harry, who faced so many dangers, crying openly in his brother's arms broke Ron's heart. Harry continued to whisper, "I'm a boy; I'm a boy; I'm a boy; I'm a boy."

"We know you're a boy Harry," James said. "You're a boy."

Harry's crying slowed before he started coughing. "I'm pathetic," he spat out once he could talk again. "I'm pathetic James."

"How are you pathetic?"

Harry sniffled and looked up at James. "Cormac… I said yes to him, to look at his clothes. I barely remember it. Our eyes met and I felt strange, a heat rising inside me as he… stripped his shirt off and I… I started licking his body. Oh god why didn't I curse him—I should have hexed him but I didn't! I just sat there feeling not myself licking and worshiping his body like he's some kind of monument! I should have hexed him, I should have—he got me talking and my mind went to Krum. I told him how Krum joked that I'll be his wife and Cor—McLaggen hooked onto it. He started calling me his wife… and a girl. …He made me take my shirt off and—James I should have hexed him, I should have done all those awful spells we know but I didn't! Why didn't I do that? Why was I so weak? And the heat! That damn heat! James I don't know what that was!"

"It's okay Harry," James said. "McLaggen must have done something to you, the bastard. It's not your fault. It's not your fault."

"But I should have done something! I just sat there licking him! Letting him talk about how—how he was going to give me boobs! I don't want boobs!" Harry yelled loudly. If this was any other situation Ron found that he would have snickered, but instead he just frowned, a growing rage burning inside him.

"Keep away from the git!" Ron snarled out. Harry turned, surprised to see Ron. "Keep away from him. I'll tell Fred and George and they'll send stuff to use against him."

"No!" Harry said quickly. 'No! Don't tell them! Don't do anything, please!"

"Harry, we have to do something—the guy practically assaulted you!" James said. "We're telling Professor McGonagall at least."

Harry bit his lip. "Okay… tell McGonagall. But don't do anything else! I don't want you guys to get in trouble," he said.

"Of course not Harry, of course not," James said. "Come on… we'll sit here until you're ready. Okay?" Harry nodded.

"I'll go get you some food, alright Harry?" Ron said. "I'm sure Dobby'll make you a feast."

"Thanks Ron," Harry said.

The twins stayed together as Ron exited the room. "Malfoy!" he yelled out, seeing Draco's retreating form. "What are you up to, you slimy git?"

"Planning Weasley," Draco said stopping and turning on his feet. "You two promised Harry you'll do nothing, but I didn't."

"You bastard, you heard the whole thing?"

"Of course I did! Once I saw Harry running I chased after him," Draco said. "You and Potter can tell Professor McGonagall about what happened, but I am going after McLaggen personally."

Ron stared at Draco for a moment. "You're serious about Harry," he said as if realizing it for the first time.

"Of course, I am Weasley," Draco said. He was silent for a moment. "I'll see you in the Room of Requirement."

"Yeah… sure…" Ron said, still stunned. He watched Draco's retreating form until it disappeared then continued on his way to the kitchens.

The next day Harry was mostly silent. James made sure to always be by his side, asking Harry if he could tell Hermione about what happened. Harry agreed and James told Hermione the facts, leaving it short and to the point to save Harry an embarrassment. Hermione was livid when James was done, but agreed with Harry that they should tell Professor McGonagall immediately. McLaggen tried to talk with Harry only one time but James, Hermione, and Ron scared him away, the three giving him glares while Harry just continued eating his food, feeling spoiled and dirty. They waited until the end of their last class, which was Herbology, to tell Professor McGonagall. She was in her office.

"Yes boys, is there a problem?" she asked as James and Harry walked into the office.

"We need to tell you something," James said. "Something… bad happened to Harry."

"Oh dear… come in, come in, and close the door," Professor McGonagall said, ushering them into the small room with a large welcoming fire. James closed the door behind him and they sat down

She looked between the two Potters. "What happened?" she asked.

"Harry?" James asked, looking at his brother.

Harry shook his head, "I'll tell her," he said. He looked up at Professor McGonagall. "Cormac McLaggen… did something to me. I don't know how to explain it. During the week he'd been talking to me, and every time I look at his face I feel… strange, not like myself. Yesterday during dinner he asked me to come to his dormitory and I don't know why but I agreed. … My mind becomes fuzzy then. It was like I couldn't think straight, I couldn't think at all. He… did things to me. I can't remember much… but I couldn't control myself—I wasn't myself—he made me do things…"

"Say no more Harry," Professor McGonagall said, her expression thin. "Have a biscuit, Potter."

"What?"

"Have a biscuit," Professor McGonagall said pushing a small tin towards Harry. Harry looked confused but reached out to one of the small cookies in the tin.

"I will bring this to Professor Dumbledore immediately," Professor McGonagall said. "Mr. McLaggen's actions are inexcusable, we will make sure that he receives extreme punishment. Thank you for bringing this to my attention Harry."

Harry just nodded.

"One more thing," Professor McGonagall said. She opened a drawer and pulled out a rather large scroll of parchment. "I have finished grading your essay, and I must say I am very impressed. This is the first essay you have given to me that even surpass Miss Granger's in term of length and detail. I must say that I am very impressed Harry. You have done an excellent job."

"Thank you," Harry said softly as Professor McGonagall handed him his essay. James looked over his shoulder as Harry unrolled it, seeing a neat black "O" on the top of it. Harry rolled his essay up again and they left Professor McGonagall's office, Harry feeling somewhat better from his grade.

They didn't talk about McLaggen or their visit to McGonagall during dinner. Instead both boys kept the conversation on whatever Dumbledore will be teaching them later that night. Harry looked up to the staff table every now and then to see Professor McGonagall talking with Dumbledore, a serious expression on both their faces. After dinner, Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione went back to the common room. When it was five to eight Harry stood up. "We should go, or we'll be late for Dumbledore," he said to James.

"Good luck!" Hermione gasped. "We'll wait up, we want to hear what he teaches you!"

"Hope it goes okay," Ron said, and the pair of them watched the twins leave through the portrait hole.

Harry and James proceeded through deserted corridors until they reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops," James said, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry and James stepped so that they were carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's office.

Harry knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice said.

"Good evening, sir," James said, walking into the headmaster's office with Harry.

"Ah, good evening boys. Sit down," Dumbledore said. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, sir," Harry said.

"So, Harry, James. You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these—for want of a better word—lessons?"

"Yes, sir," both twins said.

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you both fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."

There was a pause; the twins shared a look.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell us everything," Harry said. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice.

"And so I did," Dumbledore said placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, James, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believe the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" James asked.

"Naturally, I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man."

"Will any of this help us survive?" Harry asked.

"I certainly hope that it will help you to survive," Dumbledore said. He stood up and walked around the desk, past Harry and James, who turned eagerly in their seats to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a Pensieve. He placed it on the desk in front of the twins.

"We're going to watch memories?" Harry asked.

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "Specifically, the memories of a Bob Ogden, an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We are going to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you would stand, boys…" Dumbledore poured the memory into the pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas.

"After you," Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the bowl.

Harry and James bent down in unison, plunging their faces into silvery substance. Harry felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight.

Draco Malfoy was pacing the common room. Only a week since he and Weasley started his training, and already results were starting to show. Weasley told him that the weights they were using were magical, giving them the results they wanted quicker than muggle weights, and Draco was satisfied to find that he was not lying. His arms were more veiny, which Weasley told him would be temporary, as his skin and body get used to the small biceps and muscles Harry was forming. His chest muscles were beginning to form, the suggestion of muscles there. His stomach was also hinting abs, which will show fully if he sucks his stomach in. "What is the matter?" Blaise asked.

"Harry," Draco said. "McLaggen has done something to Harry."

Blaise grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him towards him. "What do you mean?" he said, looking extremely worried. "What did McLaggen do?"

Draco sighed and told Blaise what he had heard. When he was done, the dark-skinned Slytherin was shaking in anger. "That bastard," he cursed. He looked at Draco. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know… I'm still thinking," Draco said.

"We're going to do something," Blaise said. "He tried to—he tried to ruin our Potter!"

"My Potter!" Draco corrected him.

"He was my friend before you even noticed him," Blaise said. "The point of the matter is, what are we going to do?"

Draco was silent for a moment. He looked up at Blaise and said, "Weasley was talking about his twin brothers—the successful ones with the joke shop. … Perhaps we can start with them?"

"Pranks? Really?" Blaise smirked.

"I'm sure if we tell them what is going on, they'll only be too glad to help," Draco said. "I am also sure that they have more… harmful products waiting for special purposes."

Blaise looked at Draco and his smirk. "Oh, I see what you mean," Blaise said, sharing a smirk with Draco. They both just smirked at each other for a moment before heading off to the dormitory to get a piece of parchment. They had a letter to write.

"Er—good morning, I'm from the Ministry of Magic—"

"You're not welcome."

"Er—I'm sorry—I don't understand you," Ogden said nervously.

Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was making himself very clear in Harry's opinion, particularly as he was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry? James?" Dumbledore said quietly.

"Yes of course," Harry said, slightly nonplussed.

"I don't," James said. "He's just hissing."

"He's speaking Parseltongue!?" Harry gasped.

"Very good," Dumbledore said, nodding and smiling. The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now, look—"Ogden began but too late: There was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" a loud voice said.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake on it swung pathetically. This man was short, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short, scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" the older man said, looking down at Ogden.

"Correct!" Ogden said angrily. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"

"S'right," Gaunt said. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Why are we watching this?" James whispered. "What does this have to do with the prophecy?"

"They speak Parseltongue," Harry whispered back. "Maybe they're related to Voldemort. I remember he did boast about being a descendant from Slytherin. These people must be his family."

"Shoddy family then," James said. "Rags and a dilapidated cottage? I would have expected more from Voldemort."

"I know… still I cannot see Voldemort living here," Harry said. "His last name is Riddle, not Gaunt, and he doesn't look like any of these people."

"Maybe he's an offspring of one of them? Look, there's a girl!" James pointed out as they followed Ogden and the older man into the cottage. It seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. The girl James pointed out was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face. Harry thought he never seen such a defeated person.

"M'daughter, Merope," Gaunt said grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.

"Good Morning," Ogden said. She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

"Poor thing," James whispered. "I'm guessing she might be treated like us."

"I guess so…" Harry said. "Only thing she never had a brother like you to defend herself from these two men."

"If she is related to Voldemort, maybe the thing she did was to get away from them?" James suggested.

"That would give Voldemort some pity right?" Harry asked. "Knowing that his relative had to be brought up in such harsh environments?"

"Yeah…" James frowned. He turned to Harry. "Harry if this is remind you of—"

"I'm okay. I had you."

"You have me, Harry. And you always will."

"Thanks—oh god!" Harry gasped as Gaunt yelled at Ogden.

"And you think we're scum, do you? He screamed, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? DO you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt," Ogden said, looking wary, but standing his ground.

"That's right," Gaunt roared. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realized that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"

"I've really no idea," Ogden said, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed—"

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. For a split second, Harry thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was dragging her toward Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.

"See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

"I see it, I see it!" Ogden said hastily.

"Slytherin's! Gaunt yelled. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, sir?"

"I think I got it," Harry whispered. "These are Voldemort's family. One of them is going to be Voldemort's parent, or grandparent… no parent, we're looking at Voldemort's parent. Aren't we sir?" Harry looked at Dumbledore, who was silent the entire time. James forgot that he was even there.

"You are correct in this part Harry," Dumbledore said. "Now please be quiet and simply watch."

Harry sighed but nodded. The twins watched the scene playout in front of them. Gaunt continued to yell at Ogden as the Ministry worker tried to do his work. They were interrupted by a loud, laughing voice that drifted through the window. Everyone seemed to freeze as a muggle couple passed through. The two muggles gasped at the cottage, and Harry gasped when the woman called the man "Tom." Harry's eyes flew to Merope to see her face stark white as if she was going to faint. Morfin laughed and mocked her.

"Tom Riddle," Harry whispered. "The man was Tom Riddle… he must be Voldemort's father."

"It seems that we have watched enough. Come along boys," Dumbledore said. He took the boys' elbows and tugged. Next moment, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.

"Since you have correctly guessed that the Tom Riddle we heard is Voldemort's father, Harry, would you care to speculate about what happened?" Dumbledore asked, watching Harry carefully.

"Okay," Harry nodded. He looked at James for a moment. "Do you understand?" he asked.

"Think so," James shrugged.

"Merope, or whatever her name is, seduced Tom Riddle somehow, either through the Imperius Curse or a love potion, anything that made Tom forget about his girlfriend. They must have eloped, Merope must have been constantly feeding Tom Riddle love potions, and during that time she must have gotten pregnant… with Voldemort. Am I correct sir?"

"You are indeed, Harry," Dumbledore nodded.

"Oh! I get it!" James said. "After she gotten pregnant, she must have stopped giving Tom Riddle those potions. Voldemort was raised in an orphanage, remember Harry? So maybe Tom Riddle left her once the potions stopped, revolted that she did such an awful underhanded thing. Maybe she stopped because she thought the love potions took root and Riddle would love her for real."

"But that's not possible," Harry said.

"No, it is not Harry," Dumbledore said. "Continue, James."

James nodded. "Riddle left her pregnant, most likely never thinking of her, or really troubling himself with her existence for the rest of his life. Alone and heartbroken, not to mention effectively homeless and dirt poor, childbirth must have been too much for her and she died, causing Voldemort to be raised in an orphanage."

"And with that, I think that will do for tonight, Harry, James," Dumbledore said after a moment or two. "If I could, I would award each of you points for your deduction tonight."

"Is it important to learn about Voldemort's past?" Harry asked.

"Very important, I think," Dumbledore said.

"And it… it's got something to do with the prophecy?"

"It has everything to do with the prophecy."

"Right…" the boys said, looking at each other in confusion.

"It is late. So goodnight, to each of you," Dumbledore said. He gently ushered them out of his office.

Harry and James walked down the corridor. James was watching his brother very closely. "Harry, you're thinking of something," he said.

"Yeah I am," Harry said looking at his brother.

"What about?" James asked as they turned a corner.

"Dumbledore is showing us Voldemort's past, there is something that he wants us to learn, but I don't see it."

"Well maybe it'll become more apparent later on," James said.

"Then there's that ring… the one Gaunt shown Ogden? Dumbledore was wearing it!" Harry said.

"He was?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I think there's something Dumbledore isn't telling us."

"Well… that's how Dumbledore is," James sighed. "Keeping secrets until the last second."

"If he didn't though… maybe Sirius would have…"

"I know," James said. "Come on, let's go to bed. We need sleep. Especially you."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. They made their way back to Gryffindor Tower where Ron and Hermione were waiting. After telling them all they saw and speculated about, Harry told Hermione that he was too tired to talk about it more tonight. Hermione agreed and the four bade each other goodnight. Harry, James, and Ron made their way into the boys' dormitory and Harry went along his nighttime ritual of putting today's memories into his diary. He opened it and did his best to ignore Thursday's entry, turning to a new page and placing his memories into it, sighing deeply as he did so. He turned to see that Ron was already snoring and James was standing in his pajama bottoms, waiting for Harry. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, Harry just pulled off his clothes, standing only in his underwear, and curled up in James's bed. He felt James getting in behind him and pulled his brother's arm over him. "Watching that memory… and everything with McLaggen taught me something James," Harry whispered. "We can't trust anyone else with our hearts. …They'll only break it. We really only have each other."

A/N: I guess I maybe should have put a warning in the beginning… but nope. I'm a dick like that. Have a good day everyone!

I.C.2014: Ron was an asshole last chapter. But hey, if he wasn't then there would be no character development.

Jokul Frosti: Then I'll make sure to push them all sooner or later.

AnnaMerteuil: Ron and Colin are really on a straight-forward path towards umm happy endings. As for that lemon… I promise at least one sex scene per couple lol

Alex Frost: Thank you! I hope this chapter didn't get you mad

Littlesprout: Yeah Ron really needs to start being nice. Maybe now that Draco is doing what he's doing… maybe Ron'll be nice?