10 - Horcruxes

Harry was struggling to concentrate. His eyes were fixed determinedly on the written words before him, but the meaning of sentences as a whole slipped through his mind before he could grasp them properly. He had forced himself for days on end to try and read these books, for Tom, for safely, and out of fear, but still he hadn't learnt a thing about Occlumency or Legilimency beyond the basics. He felt like a fool. He pressed his palms to his forehead, taking in deep breaths to prepare himself for another, more determined, attempt.

It was to no avail. The book was too complex, it said too many things all at once and on top of that, it was immensely long. Harry could feel the stress building within him, which only made it more difficult to understand the subject. If he didn't learn all of this as soon as he could, a lot of bad things could happen. Snape and Dumbledore could read every thought he had, they could find out about the Half-Blood Prince and Tom and every other secret Harry wanted to keep safe from other people.

Harry closed his eyes, struggling. He wanted to give up for the night, but it hadn't been twenty minutes since he started this, and his time was limited. Between school-work, talking to Ron and Hermione, chasing after Malfoy, worrying about Dumbledore, and trying to actually get some sleep, Harry was worn out. He only had forty minutes, at the very most, before Ron and Hermione would start looking for him.

"Feeling stressed?"

Harry's eyes flew open. His head snapped up in alarm to see Tom sitting next to him, clearly amused.

"What are you doing there?" Harry asked, trying – and failing – to seem unsurprised.

"I thought I might pop in to say hello," Tom said, still smiling. "I wanted to see how you were getting on with your work."

"Oh, right," Harry said awkwardly, "Well... it's been going alright, I guess."

Tom didn't ask for details on what Harry knew, or what he was learning now. Instead, his eyes lowered to the book in Harry's lap. Harry felt the colour rise in his face, knowing that Tom was going to see he had barely started to read at all. In an immediate reaction, he closed the pages with a muffled 'bang'.

"I shan't judge you on how far you've gotten," Tom told him lightly. "What is relevant is not how much you've learnt, but how well you've learnt it."

That wouldn't leave Harry in any better position, in truth. His eyebrows twitched in confusion at Tom's words, which he was sure Tom noticed, yet he couldn't be sure. He was looking away, still somewhat startled by Tom's presence and embarrassed by his eagerness to pry.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, not caring that he was changing the subject.

"I felt as though you might appreciate some help with all of this."

"It's just reading. I can manage that on my own."

"How about a lesson?" Tom asked, his head tilting a little to the side. His eyes were ever-staring. "I know the subject well, after all."

Harry hadn't expected this. He thought it over for a moment, before shaking his head. "They tried to teach me Occlumency before, the Order. I was awful at it, I don't think I'd be any better with a lesson from you."

"Yet it was Severus Snape who taught you last. I dare say he was hardly trying to protect you, for reasons neither of us are in any position to guess at this time."

"What, you think Snape had orders from Voldemort to not teach me Occlumency properly?" Harry suddenly asked. The idea had crosses his mind many times; Tom's opinion was crucial to him.

Tom was silent for a moment before answering, his gaze thoughtful. "Well, let us merely settle with: the theory is not completely improbable. Whether or not Snape is or isn't on Dumbledore's side, he may not have thought it was wise to anger Lord Voldemort by trying too hard."

"Or Snape just hates me," Harry added, looking down at the closed book in his hands. He was thinking about how odd it was that Tom spoke about Voldemort as if he were a completely different person. It made him feel oddly comfortable, which he didn't want Tom to see.

"Back to my question, however, would you like to try having lessons with me?"

Harry looked up. "Well, we could try, I guess. It can't be as bad as Snape teaching me, anyway."

Tom seemed satisfied to hear it. With a smile, he stood up, moving across the room. They were in an empty study room not far from the Gryffindor Common Room. There was nothing in here except a battered old bookshelf, two large, square tables with chairs haphazardly left near them, the couch Harry stood up from, a few tapestries, and tall, bright windows that give a view of a balcony outside, as well as the beautiful, sunlit grounds of Hogwarts.

Harry was sure Tom was a powerful Legilimens – probably as good as Voldemort was now. Snape had described Voldemort as being the best Legilimens the wizarding world had ever known. A feeling of uneasiness passed through Harry as he reflected that Tom surely knew what he was thinking most of the time. It made him a little more eager to protect his mind.

Tom was facing him a few feet away, standing up tall and proudly. Harry attempted to do the same thing, wondering if this would be like Snape's lessons.

"I shall begin with teaching you Occlumency first," Tom told him without delay. "Legilimency can wait until after you've gained a considerable amount of skill in shielding your mind."

"Why?" Harry asked, disappointed that he wouldn't be learning both at once. He had been playing idly with the idea that he'd soon be able to read the minds of his friends, teachers, enemies, and (perhaps being all three of those things) of Tom.

"It is crucial that you are able to defend your mind against the likes of Dumbledore, Snape, and other Legilimens. If they are to discover any of what I am teaching you, any of the meetings we have had together, it could end badly for the both of us. I trust you understand."

Harry did understand, in truth. He nodded. He'd at least be able to stop Tom, as well as others, from reading his thoughts, which was enough to make him let go of disappointment. He'd be safe this way. He'd be protected from everyone else and he was sure that Tom would happily teach him Legilimency afterwards, as a second way of ensuring things remained smooth.

"Now, allow me to begin this lesson by explaining a few simple things..."

– X –

The lesson ended with some success after a solid hour of trying. It went well enough that Tom insisted they have another lesson the following day. For as many days possible during the next few weeks, Harry visited empty classrooms and study-rooms where Tom could show up, undisturbed, to teach him more. He found that with each passing day, he was steadily learning how to defend his mind more than Snape had ever allowed him to.

"You've done it!" Tom exclaimed one evening, his lips curled into a genuine grin. "You almost have it completely under your control. Now, for the next few attempts I'm going to go easy on you, but only so you can master the technique through understanding exactly how your shield works. Like a muscle never often used, you must build up your ability slowly, understanding how to trigger it..."

Encouraged by Tom's enthusiasm and joy at seeing him succeed, Harry found the next half an hour of training to be easier than ever, to his satisfaction. He was able to throw off Tom's 'Legilimens' spell completely. Although it was – so far – a weak attempt, it was progress nonetheless.

"This is brilliant," Harry panted, taking a seat on a nearby desk to catch his breath. They were in an empty classroom on the third floor. "It's difficult, really difficult, but it feels brilliant to finally have some success with all of this!"

Tom smiled softly, leaning against the same table, looking out at the view through the windows close to them. It was night-time and a high moon was out, while the stars shone brightly throughout the sky.

"It is a relief that you're determined enough to succeed quickly with all of this," Tom said. "I can satisfactorily say that I predict you'll be able to hide your mind, at least, from any prying others from this point on. Most of all, if you remember instructions."

"I will," Harry swore, grinning.

"Good." Tom returned his smile, his attention drawn completely away from the window now.

"You're a better teacher than Snape ever was," Harry said, glad for a chance to insult Snape while praising Tom. "Even if he had tried, I don't think he'd be as good as you."

"Why?" Tom asked, his head tilting a little to the side again.

"Snape hates me," Harry said, "and I don't like him either."

Tom thought about this for a moment.

"What is it?" Harry asked in response to his puzzlement.

"Do you like me?" Tom asked.

Harry's heart seemed to skip a beat. He realised, then, that Tom was staring at him, so he dropped his gaze. "I – er... Well, anyone's better than Snape."

He had no idea what this might sound like. It depended on whether Tom was asking if he liked him as a person or if he meant it like something else. Harry doubted, now, that Tom could have meant the latter. He wished he had given a better answer.

Tom seemed to feel the same. "Well, that's no answer at all."

"You're a great teacher," Harry said, "I just – I don't know what you are."

"A wizard," Tom muttered, "much like yourself. I've said it before."

Harry barely heard him say it. He attempted to shrug, wishing Tom wouldn't stare at him unblinkingly like that.

"Harry?"

"What?"

Tom was silent for a time. He watched Harry carefully, his face illuminated in the soft torchlight. His gaze became gentle after a moment or two of scanning the characteristics of Harry's face, and a smile formed on the edge of his lips. Harry could see that he was breathing evenly, perhaps waiting for him to ask again what Tom wanted. But Harry never did, in fear of Tom coming too close to him. A cold, spidery hand rested on top of his own.

Harry stood up, moving away. He didn't care what Tom had meant to say next, but this clearly confused him, for his eyes were large once more, his stare as unmoving, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. He watched Harry as if gathering information every second. Harry's heart was beating quickly. He wasn't sure why he was so affected by all of this.

"I should go," he said, "Ron and Hermione will be looking for me."

Tom stood up too. His expression slipped away. "If you wish."

"Yeah... Bye, then. Thanks for the lesson..."

Without waiting for Tom to disappear first, Harry headed for the exit of the classroom.

The corridor was cold, but Harry barely noticed it as he marched onwards. His heart was still in a flutter of emotion; he felt like his body was betraying him. His eyes adored the sight of Tom's high cheekbones and dark eyes, his ears heard every breath and sound that escaped Tom's lips, his hand could still feel where Tom's cold touch had been...

Harry was embarrassed as he reflected that Tom knew his every thought. He probably noticed all of these reactions in Harry, he probably knew how to manipulate him because of it... Harry didn't allow himself to think for one moment that Tom actually liked him. He wasn't even real, he probably just wanted to see what he could do to watch him struggle.

Thoroughly embarrassed and confused about the night as a whole, Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room right away. He found Hermione sitting alone by the fire, reading a book he didn't bother to check the title of. He fell heavily into his eat.

"Where's Ron?" he asked, glad to be close to the roaring fire of this non-deserted, familiar room.

"Thanks to you, he's sulking," Hermione answered. "I'm surprised you don't know that already."

"Why, what's happened?"

"You were supposed to meet him at the Quidditch pitch hours ago," she reminded him, her eyebrows raised. You didn't go, clearly, and it's put him in such an awful mood."

"Oh," Harry said, his eyes widening, "I, er, forgot. What'd he say?"

Hermione took in a deep breath, perhaps in annoyance. "I didn't hear much from him, to be honest."

Harry slumped back into his chair. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I completely forgot."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to. Where were you, anyway?"

"I was studying," he lied. "I had a lot of work to finish. Er, and I still have a lot more to do."

She stared at him incredulously. "Honestly, you should at least be able to stay on top of your school-work if you're going to annoy Ron as well!"

Harry was relieved that she believed his lie, at the very least. "I'm sorry, I'll go talk to him about it."

"Wait," she said, before he could stand up, "There's one more thing."

"Yeah?"

She opened her mouth a few times, struggling to find the right wording.

"What is it?"

"It's just, a few weeks back you looked stressed almost every single day, but you never explained why. Now you're all happy, for no reason. Well, except for tonight, of course."

"What's your point?"

"My point is," she said, appearing attentive, "it seems as if you keep disappearing to go meet up with someone, and I know you haven't been stalking Malfoy lately."

Harry felt the colour drain from his face. Had she followed him? Had she found him talking to Tom – or, just as badly, to a seemingly empty room, learning all about Occlumency these few weeks? Hermione was watching him closely and when he began to pale; it proved something vital to her.

"It's alright if you're seeing someone," he said kindly, smiling a bit now.

Harry didn't understand why she was smiling. He didn't understand this at all. "Er, well, I -"

"You don't need to tell me, it's alright," she said, turning back to her book with that same smirk. "Just don't do what Ron did with Lavender, making our lives hell by snogging all over the place."

"Oh," Harry said, suddenly relieved. "No - I won't."

"I won't tell Ron, either, if you'd rather keep it a secret," she said with a knowing look.

"Er, thanks, Hermione," he said, thinking wildly. Would this be the perfect excuse he needed to keep disappearing without reason? "It's late though, I think I should go up to see Ron, now."

Hermione didn't object. They said goodnight at this, before Harry turned for the boys' dormitory.

Ron was asleep when he entered the room. Harry felt a sense of relief that didn't fully obscure his other feelings of dread, confusion, and worry. Should he continue lying to Hermione that he was dating someone, for convenience? He didn't know if it was a smart idea or not. He was glad that he had until tomorrow morning, at least, before he had to talk to Ron, but he worried now that Hermione wouldn't listen if he tried to explain that he wasn't dating anyone – she'd want another excuse.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, feeling more stressed than ever before. He didn't know what Tom wanted from him, he didn't know if Ron would forgive him for forgetting about him entirely, and he didn't know if Hermione would keep prying into his business like this or if she'd leave him alone once she got used to seeing less of him. Harry pressed his palms against his forehead, hard, trying to work all of this out. For the entire evening, he didn't get one answer.

He was glad to find the next morning that Hermione didn't say a word to him or Ron about the possibility of Harry seeing someone, but Harry was sure this was only because Hermione didn't want to bug Ron further. He was pissed off at Harry for the entire day, which made Harry feel guilty and annoyed too. He was too paranoid about Tom to try and start an Occlumency lesson today.

He couldn't avoid Tom forever, however. It was after Defence Against the Dark Arts on Monday morning when Harry got another wave of fear so strong from Snape that he knew, once more, he had to take Occlumency lessons. When he returned to Tom he was nervous and hesitant, but Tom acted as if nothing unusual had happened during their last lesson. Their practice went on like normal, even if Harry felt more stressed and irritable than ever.

His irritation spread out towards Ron and Hermione too, but Ron (after forgiving him for missing their private Quidditch practice), didn't bother commenting on it, and Hermione knew she would only annoy Harry further by asking what was up. One sunny afternoon, the three of them stood outside on the courtyard after lunch, talking. Hermione suggested, for what hadn't been the first time, that Harry should try talking to Slughorn after Potions class while Ron and Hermione took their Apparition tests.

"Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" Harry asked dryly.

"Lucky," Ron repeated, looking thunderstruck. "Harry, that's it – get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?"

"Use your Lucky Potion!"

"Ron, that's – that's it!" Hermione exclaimed with even more enthusiasm. "Of course! Why didn't I think of it?"

Harry's stomach squirmed as he watched them both. "Felix Felicis? I dunno... I was sort of saving it..."

"What for?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?" Hermione added.

Harry didn't know what he was supposed to say to this. He was too distracted by his own thoughts to think of a lie; he had intended to save the Lucky Potion for an emergency, as a sort of safeguard for if things with Tom didn't work out. It was to make sure that he had something he could resort to if Draco was close to killing Dumbledore, if Snape began prying into Harry's secrets, or if Ron and Hermione found out more than they should know.

"Harry? Are you still with us?"

"Wha-? Yeah, of course," he said, shaking his head to get his thoughts straight. "Well... Okay. If I can't get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I'll take some Felix and have another go this evening."

"That's decided, then," Hermione said happily, getting to her feet.

They didn't talk about the matter much more during the remainder of their break. The bell rang after a few more minutes of conversation and Ron and Hermione hurried off to their Apparition test nervously. Harry failed to corner Slughorn after Potion's class, but when he met up with Ron and Hermione later in the day, they devised a plan for Harry to go talk to him with the help of Felix Felicis.

The evening was a success. The moment Harry took the potion, feelings of dread, anxiety, fear, and worry all fell from him as if he had taken off a thick, heavy travelling cloak after forgetting it was there for weeks on end. He felt light and full of energy, hope, excitement, and joy. Slughorn gave up the memory at Hagrid's hut, slipping into a sorrowful sleep before Harry's eyes. Harry left the hut without delay, his luck wearing out but his eagerness overpowering.

He raced through he entrance hall and up several flights of stairs. He stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady, enduring a short conversation before finding out, from a wandering Nearly Headless Nick, that Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts an hour ago. Harry's heart leapt and a grin spread across his face as he left the Fat Lady and Nearly Headless Nick, intent upon having a meeting with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore welcomed him into his office wearily, pulling out of his exhaustion only when he heard Harry had retrieved the memory from Slughorn. They visited the memory together without delay. They saw the full event of young Tom Riddle talking with Slughorn, they saw their discussion of Horcruxes and the mad look in Tom Riddle's eyes after it. When it was finished, Harry was stunned.

He thought about Tom in the silence that followed the memory. His eyes drifted up to the portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts, who were listening keenly to the conversation between him and Dumbledore. He knew he shouldn't risk thinking about Tom right here, but he couldn't help it. There was something about Slughorn's explanation of Horcruxes that had set Harry on edge.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore began, "I'm sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."

"You think he succeeded then, sir? He made a Horcrux?" Harry asked. "And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?"

"A bit... or more," Dumbledore answered. "You heard Voldemort: what he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repetitively, so as to store it in many, separately concealed Horcruxes. No book would have given him that information. As far as I know – as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew – no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two."

Dumbledore took a moment to let this settle in, apparently preparing himself for his next words. "Four years ago, I received what I considered certain proof that Voldemort had split his soul."

"Where?" Harry asked, alarmed. "How?"

"You handed it to me, Harry. The diary, Riddle's diary, the one giving instructions on how to reopen the Chamber of Secrets."

"I don't understand, sir."

"Well, although I did not see the Riddle who came out of the diary, what you described to me was a phenomenon I had never witnessed. A mere memory starting to act and think for itself? A mere memory, sapping the life out of a girl into who's hands it had fallen? No, something much more sinister had lived in that book..."

Harry felt a sinking sensation tear through his inner body, moving between his lungs and stunning them for a moment. His eyes dropped from Dumbledore's instantly, giving him the chance to pull off his sudden deep concern as if it was mere confusion on his behalf. Tom...

"A fragment of soul," Dumbledore carried on, "I was almost sure of it. The diary had been a Horcrux. But this raised as many questions as it answered. What intrigued me and alarmed me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon as much as a safeguard."

"I still don't understand," Harry said, trying not to sound monotonic.

"Well, it worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work – in other words, the fragment of soul concealed inside it was kept safe and had undoubtedly played its part in preventing the death of its owner. There there could be no doubt that Riddle really wanted that diary read, wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that Slytherin's monster would be unleashed again."

"Well, he didn't want his hard work to be wasted. He wanted people to know he was Slytherin's heir, because he couldn't take credit at the time."

"Quite correct," Dumbledore said, nodding. Harry couldn't help but notice, however, that a look of slight surprise crossed his face. "But don't you see, Harry, that if he intended the diary to passed to, on planted on, some future Hogwarts student, he was being remarkably blasé about the precious fragment of his soul concealed within it. The point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Slughorn explained, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they might destroy it – as indeed happened..."

Harry's mind was wandering elsewhere. It was easy for him to look away and think about Tom while Dumbledore continued talking, telling him everything he needed to know about Horcruxes. The things Dumbledore said about Tom from the diary struck fear in Harry for one reason: it reminded him of his Tom. It made him realise, yet again, that there was something wrong about the way Tom appeared, the way he acted, the way he returned to Harry like a ghost...

"...Then you told me, two years later, that on the night that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most illuminating and alarming statement to his Death Eaters. 'I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.' That was what you told me he said. 'Further than anybody.' And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had."

So the diary was just one... Harry felt physically ill. Did that mean that the Tom he knew was the 'ghost' of another Horcrux? Did that mean that Tom had tracked Harry down and he was stalking him at this very moment, trying to possess him like he had possessed Ginny before the Chamber of Secrets was opened? Memories from one of their conversations drifted back to Harry, from the night Hagrid admitted knowledge about Dumbledore's ill health... "You're tired," Tom had commented. "I must apologise, for it is I who is to be blamed for this..."

Harry had to try very, very hard not to look terrified in front of Dumbledore.

"Yet it fitted: Lord Voldemort had seemed to grow less human with the passing years, and the transformation he had undergone seemed to me to be only explicable if his soul was mutilated beyond the realms of what we might call usual evil..."

The rest of his talk with Dumbledore was a blur. Harry tried his best to sound interested and to hide his true feelings, but it was with all the effort he could manage. When he finally had the chance to leave, his head was spinning. He did everything he could to not run across the office, to rip open the door to the spiral staircase. Instead, he left the room calmly, numbly, blindly.

He felt as if he was going to be sick when he reached the stone gargoyle. He wished for one terrible moment that he hadn't left Dumbledore's office, he wished almost that he had admitted everything to his Headmaster – the dreams, the appearances, the invisibility, and the lessons from Tom – but he couldn't change that now. His hands and limbs were shaking badly as he stood in the corridor, hesitating. Finally, he decided to return to the Gryffindor Common Room as quickly as possible.

Of course Tom was linked to the Horcruxes. Of course he was the same as Ginny's Tom had been – manipulative in every way, intent upon causing harm, intent upon making Harry pour his heart out – so why hadn't Harry seen it sooner? His mouth was dry, his breath was heavy as he listened to each of his own hurried, echoing footsteps. He was tense. He kept his vision averted from the view in front of him...

Tom was manipulating him. He was playing with his emotions, playing on his fears and insecurities. Harry had to tell someone as soon as possible – Ron, Hermione, anyone – even Neville, if it came to that. Harry was in half a mind to turn back to Dumbledore, but he knew it was too late for it. He needed to get somewhere, anywhere, close to people. His footsteps quickened. He needed someone to know where he was, because if he was left alone here, he was going to be found...

It felt like a terrifying dream. Harry drifted in and out of the patches of moonlight that shone through the tall windows of Hogwarts castle. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of him, his jaw clenched. Lord Voldemort was living inside his head. Harry's breathing strained further, his shaking hands worsening. Lord Voldemort was visiting him, alone, at night, and he wanted no one else to know about the little meetings they had. He was teaching him magic, illegal, powerful magic, involving some books that Harry knew were wrong...

He was taking advantage of Harry's distance from Ron and Hermione, of Dumbledore's disregard for Harry's theories that Malfoy and Snape were after him. He was pulling Harry further away from the friends and teachers who thought he was taking his paranoia too far. Harry felt a moment of anger, of stress from this entire situation. Tom was taking advantage of his loneliness, of his admiration for the other boy's charm. Harry broke into a run.

He was almost near the Gryffindor Common Room. Just one more flight of stairs, three more corridors. Harry rounded a corner and nearly screamed in terror. But it wasn't Tom, it was Nearly Headless Nick again. Harry had reached for his wand, but stared now in shock.

"My dear boy, I mean no harm to you!" Nick said in surprise at the sight of his panic. "Why, you look as pale as a ghost - I nearly mistook that grim face for the Bloody Baron's!"

Harry hastily took his hand away from his pocket, trying to look as though he hadn't just been terrified beyond belief, reacting with violence. He couldn't find his own voice.

"I suppose, due to the passing of time, you have indeed spoken with Dumbledore," Nearly Headless Nick commented, a kind smile forming on his ghostly face. "Knowing that man, and seeing that troubled expression, I can safely assume you'll want to be left to your own thoughts."

"Yeah," Harry managed breathlessly, "Er... thanks..."

Nearly Headless Nick inclined his head politely, humming a merry little song as he drifted off along the corridor. Harry made a mistake in waiting for his humming to fade away. He was standing alone in the corridor. When he looked up, Tom was waiting patiently, only a few feet ahead of him.

Harry began violently backing away, trembling and almost falling over in his attempts. It was worse than seeing any ghost, being visited by any Dementor. He reached for his wand properly this time, not yet daring to take his eyes off of young Voldemort. Tom advanced.

"Harry -"

"S-stay away from me!" Harry shouted, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy, audible, and painful. Nearly Headless Nick was too far away to hear the noise.

"Harry, don't do this -"

"I know what you are!" Harry warned him, "I – I know what you'll do! I -"

"You're mistaken."

Tom was calm, unfazed, but Harry didn't buy it. It was only more terrifying.

"You're one of them! You're one of the – the Horcruxes Voldemort made," Harry said shakily, still backing away. "You're trying to take my power just like you took Ginny's! I know it!"

"Harry, stop."

"Stay away from me!"

"If you'd listen -"

"DON'T!"

"Harry -"

BANG!

His spell missed Tom by inches. The next thing Harry knew, a spell shot right back at him with just as much force, despite the fact that Tom was unarmed. He disarmed Harry, and with an echoing clatter, his wand fell to the ground several feet away. Harry stood and stared. He felt more alert than ever now his wand was gone, but there was nothing he could do. Tom continued taking slow, steady steps towards him.

"I am not the diary," he said softly, holding Harry's gaze. "I am not the snake Dumbledore spoke of, nor the cup, nor the locket. There has been no item thrust into your possession that could possibly possess you by extent. Believe in this."

"Why should I believe that?" Harry asked incredulously. "Why should I believe a word you say?"

"Have I caused you any harm?" Tom asked.

Harry didn't respond. The answer depended on whether Tom was a part of Voldemort, or whether he was his own person entirely.

"I have helped you," Tom said, "to defend yourself against those who would rather leave your mind vulnerable. I have helped you gain information on both Draco Malfoy and the connections he and Snape have to the attempted murders of Albus Dumbledore. I have reminded you to not frighten your two friends, to not crave their approval if they're unwilling to believe in a word that you say..."

Tom was closer to him now, wonder and slight annoyance crossing his face.

"So why, after all of this, do you fear me? Why do you treat me with caution, as if I am the Lord Voldemort that you know, as if I am the diary Horcrux that, years ago, attempted to sap the life out of a young girl who's heart was vulnerable?"

Tom's gaze was so demanding, so curious to hear these answers, it was almost frightening. He didn't want to hurt Harry (if he wanted that, he would have done it long ago), but Harry was scared of giving the wrong answer for the faintest second.

"Because you can't be real," Harry said in a low voice. He was confused, now, to find that Tom was right in reminding him that he had never hurt him. He was trying to protect him. There was just one thing wrong. "You appear out of nowhere, you tell me you've been here all my life, and you expect me to just accept that and move on. I don't know what you are. I don't know if you're even real or if you're just some sort of – I dunno – imaginary person that I've completely made up..."

"I am real," Tom said quietly.

Harry thought this over for the fainted second, but shook his head. "I don't believe you."

Tom had succeeded in calming Harry down, but he couldn't convince him he was anything more than an odd spirit.

"Can't you see me?" Tom asked. "Can't you see I'm as real as anything else around you?"

"No one else can see you," Harry pointed out. "That's all the evidence I need."

What Tom did next shot panic through Harry again. He took his hand.

"You can hear me," Tom reminded him very clearly, "you can feel me, Harry. I don't appear for anyone else because I don't want to be found by anyone else. But look – I'm real."

Harry tried to tug his hand away. "No, you're not -"

"I am. I've always been."

"You're not!" Harry explained, his heart hammering. "Let me go, it's just magic, there's no way you could be -"

Tom took several more steps forwards, until he was close enough to touch Harry's face.

"Listen to me..."

His fingers held the base of Harry's chin softly, his second hand entwined in Harry's now unmoving fingers still. Harry breathed heavily, alarmed by both Tom's swiftness as the crashing waves of emotion that tore through him at seeing him so close. He was looking down at Harry from only a few inches away, searching deeply in his eyes for something.

"I am real," Tom said in a quiet, serious voice. "Can you not see this is true?"

Harry could hear every breath he took, could see the pulse in his neck from his beating heart. Tom's hands were cold and delicate, but there was no denying they were real too. The pressure on Harry's held hand was too convincing. The look in Tom's eyes was too full of determination and care about the situation. He can't be a mere apparition. He wasn't like the diary Tom.

"If you cannot trust your senses, cannot trust your judgement, what is there to trust?" Tom asked him. "You know that I am here, now..."

"I..." Harry was still deeply troubled by all of this. There was an odd, calming atmosphere that seemed to radiate from Tom, dulling Harry's fear, anger, worry, and resistance.

"Look at me," Tom asked of him.

Harry did so. His stomach fluttered nervously when a soft smile overtook Tom's face under his gaze. Tom was still holding him closely, protectively, and when he sensed the emotion in Harry, this only deepened. The next thing Harry knew, Tom kissed him once, softly.

He was completely unable to move. Tom hesitated a few inches away, his breathing slow, sending Harry's mind even deeper into a sense of unreality. Tom's hand moved down his neck, his long, thin fingers tracing Harry's skin as his lips encased Harry's once more. This time Harry responded. He was unable to resist any longer, caught up in a whirl of desire to be closer to Tom still, to allow this kiss to carry on.

When they parted, Tom's gaze was softer than ever, his gentle smile was fuelled by the look of trust and hope Harry gave him. His hand moved up again to cup Harry's face and he ran his thumb along Harry's jaw, sending further emotion soaring through him.

"Now you know," Tom said in a quiet voice. "I'm here to help you, to protect you, to be with you..."

He disappeared, moments later, after a single kiss. Harry felt him move away; when he looked up, he was alone.