Another month flew by before Harry's next lesson with Dumbledore, and in that time, a lot had happened at Hogwarts. Quidditch was not going well, despite the fact that Harry had pretended to slip Ron Felix Felicis during breakfast on their first match of term, winning them the game on confidence alone. Hermione had disapproved of Harry's scheme, but had forgotten all about it on the night of celebration in the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron ended up kissing Lavender Brown, and Harry had been comforting Hermione as well as he could ever since.
Yet as sorry for Hermione as Harry might feel, and as undecided about Ron's choice in a girlfriend as he was, his mind was still preoccupied by his lessons with Dumbledore. The only thing that distracted Harry's mind from contemplating memories of young Voldemort constantly was thought of Draco Malfoy. It irked Harry to see that Ron and Hermione were both sick of him talking about the blatant change in Malfoy, the plausible idea of him being a Death Eater, and the important fact of him sneaking around the school doing secretive things.
Since Harry's mind was constantly dwelling upon Malfoy and Riddle, he didn't end up speaking to Ron and Hermione much anymore. They both only spoke of themselves, and their dislike for each other (for they were no longer talking) while Harry pretended to listen, his mind evaluating the characteristics of young Voldemort at his orphanage, or else the sight of Merope Gaunt being abused physically and verbally by her father. Harry was eager to see more memories of Voldemort, even if he couldn't mention this very often to Ron and Hermione.
Harry took Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's Christmas party, for he couldn't think of absolutely anyone else to bring. Malfoy had been caught by Filch wandering the corridors, and he had claimed that he was attempting to sneak into the party, but by following Draco and Snape, Harry had found out that this was a lie. Draco was instead wandering the corridors for a different reason, to do a deed for Voldemort, and Snape wanted to be a part of it too, trying to help Draco as much as he could. Draco didn't want his help, and this made Harry even more suspicious of him.
For Christmas, Harry visited the Burrow with Ron, and without Hermione. In the vaguely uneventful days of no school, Harry had plenty of time to inform Ron all about what had happened after Slughorn's Party relating to overhearing Snape and Draco, but Ron refused to agree with Harry completely on his theory that Malfoy was a Death Eater. Harry gave up trying to convince him by Christmas time, by the help of many distractions relating to decorating the house and helping Mrs Weasley with chores alongside Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny.
As Celestina Warbeck, Mrs Weasley's favourite singer, played merrily throughout the house on Christmas evening, Harry conversed with Mr Weasley and Lupin about Malfoy and Snape, Fenrir Greyback, and even the Half-Blood Prince mystery. It was good to speak to Lupin again, Harry felt, though he was somewhat annoyed with his old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for believing his theory on Malfoy as little as Ron believed it.
By the time Christmas morning arrived, and both Percy and the Minister of Magic himself, Rufus Scrimgeour, had visited the Burrow unexpectedly and without a fully warm welcome, and Harry had forgotten about Malfoy and the memories of Tom Riddle for the first time in months. It wasn't until days after when memories of Riddle especially began returning to Harry's mind. He wondered occasionally why he cared so much, until he remembered how important it was anyway. He just wished he had more to think about.
On the first day back at Hogwarts for the new term Harry had his third lesson with Dumbledore. After a discussion with Dumbledore about Scrimgeour's unforeseen visit, and Dumbledore's personal encounters with the Minister over the summer, Harry told his headmaster about what he had discovered relating to Draco and Snape. Harry gave Dumbledore the whole story, explaining very quickly how he had followed Draco and Snape, and in more detail about what he had heard them speaking about.
When he was done, Dumbledore was quiet for a long time. Harry tried hard not to interrupt his silence, especially as his worry for the headmaster not understanding him built up. When Dumbledore spoke, his voice was as calm and careful as ever. "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."
"Not of great importance?" Harry repeated, his heart sinking. "Professor, did you understand –?"
"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me," Dumbledore replied, impatiently to say the least. "I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."
Harry made no reply to this, as he felt the annoyance build up inside him. He was sick of everyone not believing his theory on Malfoy, and he was irritated that Dumbledore wouldn't even allow him to hold a short conversation about the whole affair. Harry wanted to understand where Dumbledore was on thinking about this matter, he wanted to know what was happening with Snape and the young Death Eater, to Dumbledore's knowledge…
Maybe Dumbledore didn't believe Draco was capable of doing anything lethal. Well, thought Harry, Dumbledore would regret thinking this when Malfoy became a powerful Death Eater, murdering people and letting his friends join with pride. Dumbledore was going to get them all killed because he undervalued his students… Harry was sure that Dumbledore trusted Snape, merely because he was a teacher, and Dumbledore thought that he was going to stop Draco. Though there was always the possibility that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to watch Malfoy, like Ron, Lupin, and Mr Weasley all thought…
"So, sir," Harry said, trying to sound as polite as he could, "you definitely still trust –?"
"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," Dumbledore interrupted, sounding more annoyed than ever. "My answer has not changed."
"I should think not," said a snide voice. Harry looked up to see Phineas Nigellus peering down at him and Dumbledore from his portrait, no longer pretending to be asleep. Dumbledore ignored the portrait, as Harry's annoyance increased.
"And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on," Dumbledore said. "I have more important things to discuss with you this evening…"
Harry listened to his professor, still very angry with him for not believing a word that he said. Soon after this, Dumbledore attempted to lessen Harry's irritation by mentioning how even the best of friends fight in these ways, but by this time Harry didn't care very much about Malfoy anymore. Even if Dumbledore wouldn't tell him anything about it, and even if he didn't trust his headmaster in his claims of it being unimportant, the idea of seeing more memories of Riddle was suddenly taking up more space in his mind. He could worry about Draco later…
The first memory they saw was of the sixteen-year-old Tom, talking with his uncle, Morfin, in the dark and dirty House of Gaunt. Harry had been mesmerize by the sight of Riddle, so young and yet so determined to kill, and by the sight of Morfin, who by this point was much older, and the same as his father had been in many ways. Harry was shocked to hear from Dumbledore that Riddle went to murder his father and grandparents that very evening, yet he wasn't all that surprised.
Harry had just begun thinking about what Tom Riddle had felt that night, before Dumbledore brought his attention to the second memory they would be seeing. Harry remembered that Dumbledore had said this was the most important memory he had managed to find, and Harry was intent upon seeing it. When he witnessed the scene with Slughorn, Riddle, and a few other students in the Slug Club in the forties, he wasn't at all sure why this was so very important. Nothing of any shock or significance had happened as far as he could tell. Yet when Dumbledore told him the memory had been manipulated, he finally understood a lot more.
–X–
"He wants you to get the memory?" Hermione asked incredulously. They were standing in the snowy courtyard at break, which was deserted except for them both, and the occasional first years that ran past, playing in the freezing weather.
"What, you think I can't do it?" Harry asked, shielding his actual concern with a false, light-hearted tone. Despite Ron's confidence at breakfast, and claim that Harry had Slughorn wrapped around his little finger, Harry wasn't sure whether he could do a better job than Dumbledore.
"I honestly don't know whether you can manage this," Hermione replied in a negative tone. She glanced up at Harry, and appeared to see some expression on his face that gave away his actual concern, for she hastily added, "I mean, I'm sure it's possible, I just don't know whether… Oh, you know what I mean!"
Harry guessed that her mind was partially elsewhere, and he looked away from her for a minute, struggling to not show his annoyance. She stared at him guiltily. He didn't know what to say to her now, as he watched the falling snow. "No, I know what you mean," he half-lied in an unconvincing tone.
Hermione ignore his tone. "What were the memories that Dumbledore showed you like?" she asked, knowing this was always of great interest to Harry.
"The first one was about Riddle as a teenager," Harry said. After a short pause, he decided it was dumb to be annoyed with Hermione. He looked back at her. "He met his uncle, Morfin, at the Gaunt House, and Morfin was telling him about his mum and dad."
"What did he have to say about them?"
"Nothing much," Harry replied, "he was mostly talking about how he despised his sister for running away with 'that Muggle'. He also mentioned something about Slytherin's Locket… He blatantly cared more about that than the fact that his sister was missing."
"Blatantly," Hermione repeated, appearing somewhat exasperated with this information on Morfin. She stared at the snow besides Harry as she thought for a moment. "What was the second memory about?"
Harry had been too distracted by thinking about Tom Riddle in the Gaunt House to remember that he was still explaining all the memories to her. "The second one was about Slughorn."
Hermione seemed shocked. "Slughorn?"
"Yeah, he was a teacher here when Voldemort was at school," Harry reminded her.
"Of course," she said, appearing interested now. "What happened in the memory? Was Voldemort a part of it?"
"Yeah, Riddle was asking him about something," Harry said. "Horcruxes. But Slughorn wouldn't give him a proper answer on what they were – or we didn't get to see a proper answer, anyway. Dumbledore said, after we left the Pensieve, that Slughorn manipulated his own memory."
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"Dumbledore thinks he's ashamed of his past," Harry explained. "He says that Slughorn must have given away some information to Voldemort that he regrets now."
"I wonder what he did," Hermione said, appearing lost in thought. "If Dumbledore can't even convince him to own up to it, for the good of getting rid of Voldemort…"
Harry could sense that they were going back to the topic of how he would convince Slughorn to trust him, and he didn't feel like talking about that yet. There was still about ten minutes of break left, and Harry wanted to talk about what was actually on his mind. He had been thinking about one particular thing all day, which had even kept him up before falling asleep last night.
"What if Tom Riddle had a point in killing people?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.
He realised how terrible these words sounded even before he saw Hermione's face. She stared at him, her eyebrows raised, and her expression generally shocked. "What?"
"No, I just mean that with everything that happened concerning Borgin buying Slytherin's Heirloom off of Merope Gaunt for such a low price, actually making it so she couldn't survive after the birth of her son, and with everything concerning Tom's childhood in an orphanage, suffering who knows what past the mayhem that he caused…" Harry felt like an idiot, and knew he wasn't explaining himself right as he avoided eye contact. "I don't know, I just feel that maybe there was a reason for what he did."
"Voldemort wouldn't have even known about what happened to his mother," Hermione said, her tone losing its disbelief, and building an air of reassurance, much to Harry's relief.
"Which makes it worse," Harry observed. "He didn't know about anything stuck in that orphanage."
"But I'm sure that Tom's stay at that orphanage was better than you expect," Hermione assured him. "From what you explained, it seemed like a rather clean and well looked after place. A bit gloomy, yes, but not to the extent that would effect someone growing up there."
"It was the middle of the second World War," Harry observed, finally looking at Hermione again. "He didn't have absolutely anyone around to relate to, and –"
"There were plenty of people he could have related to," Hermione interrupted, obviously thinking that Harry was just being foolish now. "He just didn't relate to them on purpose, because he was… well, just as odd as you'd expect Voldemort to be as a child. He was even deranged by then, I am sure, and born like that."
"I think he was born like that because of his parents," Harry said. "His father never loved his mother, and was forced into the marriage…"
"He was a mistake from the start," Hermione commented. She seemed completely unconcerned with Harry's comments now, and Harry could tell she was losing interest by this point. Harry decided to add one last thing, to try and make her understand where he was coming from.
"I just feel like…" he began slowly, "like there were a lot of similarities between Tom Riddle and me. His orphanage seemed just as bad as the Dursleys, if not worse."
"But you turned out alright, despite all of that, didn't you?" Hermione asked.
She smiled as another thought struck her, and spoke before Harry could think of what to reply.
"You aren't exactly going to do what Voldemort did, and act upon any insane impulses to murder people and teach yourself the Dark Arts. Voldemort turned out the way he did because he was born a psychopath, Harry. You should stop worrying about how he turned out the way he did, and start worrying about how you can put an end to it all."
Harry thought about her words, knowing how she was probably right, while at the same time hating how yet another person was telling him his theories were completely wrong, and not even worth evaluating. Harry knew he could go on telling her about every precise reason behind why he felt and knew Tom Riddle might have had a reason… but he had just escaped being thought of as insane, and he understood that he shouldn't risk being misunderstood again.
"I don't know what you are going to do about Slughorn, however," Hermione said, apparently continuing from a trail of thought she was having. "He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn't get it out of him… Horcruxes… Horcruxes… I've never even heard of them…"
"You haven't?" Harry asked quickly.
He had hoped that she would be able to tell him everything about Horcruxes, to give him a clue to why they might be important. He wished Dumbledore had explained what a Horcrux was.
"They must have been really advanced Dark Magic, or why would Voldemort have wanted to know about them? I think it's going to be difficult to get information, Harry, you'll have to be very careful about how you approach Slughorn, think out a strategy…"
"Ron reckons I should just hang back after Potions this afternoon," Harry remarked.
"Oh, well, if Won-Won thinks that, you'd better do it," Hermione replied, losing her temper quickly. "After all, when has Won-Won's judgement ever been faulty?"
"Hermione, can't you –"
"No!" she cried angrily, before Harry could finish. She stormed away, insulted and irked by the mere mention of Ron.
–X–
That evening, Harry lay in bed, thinking about Voldemort's early years of life yet again. In spite of what Hermione might say, Harry didn't think the orphanage where Tom Riddle grew up would have allowed many orphans to leave perfectly sane, content with life, or without reason to hate every other person on earth. Who knew what had happened in that building, past Riddle's tricks and fights with the other orphans. Harry frowned as he lay on his back, not wanting to think about the orphanage too much, in truth… It was an eerie place.
He thought instead about other aspects of Tom's childhood. Riddle had been as alone as Harry had with the Dursleys, and Harry understood perfectly well how degrading and unpleasant it was living with people who you hated, and who hated you. It was the worst when it was a group of people. There was no escape from it, and no way of relieving the frustration that built up, besides via the relief of magic… whether it was used as a defence or a weapon.
Harry was feeling tired; yet he wanted to stay up to think about this. He tried to struggle with sleep, as he stared at the shadowed ceiling, not allowing his eyes to close. Hermione had stated the fact of Harry not being a killer as a reason to why he wasn't like Voldemort, and as an example for Riddle's insanity. Yet even if Tom hadn't known about things such as Borgin buying a locket off of his mother, basically causing her death, those things had a way of getting back to you… maybe not as obviously and possibly as Harry would like, if he used this in an argument, however…
Harry didn't think that the orphanage could have had no impact upon Tom's choices in life what so ever. A past stuck in such a gloomy place, with the London Blitz going on for who knows how long, it had to have stayed with Riddle through his teenaged years and beyond. Harry felt as though Riddle's life related to his own a lot. With abusive carers and apparently no hope of getting anywhere, and with knowing there was something else about him, because of his magic…
Was he too capable of being a murderer, Harry wondered? Harry wasn't sure whether he had it in him to kill. He had never really thought about it. Yet he was supposed to kill Voldemort one day, wasn't he? Only three years ago, Harry had claimed that he could kill Sirius when he heard the misinformed rumours that Sirius had told Voldemort where his parents, his best friends, were hiding. Had Harry really meant that threat, he wondered?
Harry doubted it, somehow. He then remembered how he was supposed to kill Voldemort one day… if Harry couldn't kill The Dark Lord, he would fail, and Voldemort would rule all of England, and beyond. If Harry could kill him, and save the country, then Harry would be left a murderer. How did Dumbledore expect it to end? For Voldemort to be put in Azkaban, where he could break himself out, like he broke out his Death Eaters? Did Dumbledore expect Harry to become a murderer? Or did he plan for Harry to trick Voldemort into somehow killing himself?
Harry gave a snort of laughter, which he was sure no one heard anyway. He couldn't imagine Voldemort ever being tricked into killing himself – or being guilted into it, for that matter. Maybe there was no end to Voldemort, until he was to die of old age. How old was he, anyway? Harry was sure that if or when he died because of Voldemort, Voldemort would get a Philosopher's Stone, and live off of that… but Harry still wasn't going down without a decent fight.
Riddle had done well on the murders of his father and grandparents, Harry thought. At only sixteen, he had managed to not only escape the Ministry's eyes, but also to frame and imprison another person he hated, and wanted to get rid of. It was a cunning scheme, especially considering how it was improvised that very night. Tom could have murdered Morfin, and moved onto The Riddle House without hesitation, but instead –
Why was Harry thinking about this? He suddenly realised how odd of a thought this was. He shouldn't be mentally contemplating Riddle on his success, he should be worrying about what Voldemort would be able to do to him now, if he could kill that well at sixteen. Might no one know Harry was dead or dying, until far too late? Although Voldemort was a little more cuckoo now than he was before his rebirth, Harry was sure… maybe he was tactless now, when he wanted someone dead. Ruthless murders…
Harry was very tired, and could no longer keep his eyes open. He allowed himself to go to bed, thinking that maybe if he fell asleep now, he could have some time before waking up to think about this, if he felt like it. Once Harry fell asleep, he had many vague dreams about Quidditch, general school life, the DA, to his surprise, and his friends. It towards the end of the night when Harry had a dream of particular importance, and it was both eerily vivid and surprising close to memory.
He was standing in the Chamber of Secrets once more, but Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was just Harry, standing opposite who could only be Tom Riddle. Twirling a wand in his hand slowly, with his long, thin fingers, and leaning against one of the tall pillars of the Chamber, Tom was watching Harry carefully. Tom was as handsome as Harry had ever remembered him. Tall, thin, and pale, with dark hair and eyes… Harry might have been back in the Chamber as a twelve year old again, except there was no danger around this time, and he was alone with Tom.
Harry didn't notice the statue of Salazar Slytherin, nor the stone snakes with shocking real appearances, and eyes that would seem to follow him if he walked. Tom was the only thing that was important to focus on, and he appeared perfectly real in this dream, like the rest of the Chamber. All was calm, silent, and still, except the twirling of Harry's wand, in Tom's hand, and Tom's examining eyes, which travelled over Harry.
"That's my wand," Harry said suddenly, his voice echoing through the Chamber.
The corners of Tom's lips twitched into a smile, and still he watched Harry, twirling the wand in his hand at the same, slow pace.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked Tom after a pause, thinking that maybe a question would provoke a response.
"What are you doing here?" Tom inquired softly in return, still smiling. His voice echoed against the vast space too, but unlike for Harry, Tom's voice was full of hisses that faded after what felt like a long time.
"I don't remember how I got here," Harry stated. Tom said nothing, so Harry tried another question. "Why are we here, then?"
"You tell me," Tom replied quietly. His smile refreshed. "This is your dream, after all… So isn't it only what you make it?"
"I can't see why I'd have a dream about you," Harry remarked. He felt uncomfortable under Tom's gaze… and he wondered why. He watched his wand spinning within Tom's hand for a while. Everything felt very real. "Unless this isn't a dream…"
When he looked back at Tom's face, he saw that the Heir of Slytherin was no longer smiling. But when Tom saw Harry looking at him curiously, a different sort of smile broke out upon his lips, this time showing his teeth. It wasn't menacing, To Harry's surprise, yet it seemed false. "You aren't unintelligent…"
Harry opened his mouth to reply to this, but he stopped, distracted by blood suddenly dripping from Tom's nose. He was about to comment upon it, before Tom opened his mouth slightly, and blood began pouring out of that too. Tom was unaffected by it, even interested, as he reached up a hand to touch the quickly pouring liquid. When he looked up at Harry again, grey eyes meeting green, all he did was smile, until Harry woke up with a jolt.
It was still dark in the dormitory, and Harry was sure that no one else was awake. His heart was beating quickly, but his breath was even after only a minute of being awake. He wondered what on earth that had been about, as he lay in the darkness… that was perhaps the most realistic dream he had ever had. He would have thought it was a vision, had his scar not felt fine… He fell back to sleep before he could help himself, being too tired not to, but he didn't forget about the dream when he woke up only a little while later.