Chapter 12:
Harry got the opportunity to approach the conversation of the Remembrall after dinner, when they both settled into the Room of Requirement for another Occlumency lesson.
"Tom? He began, the words bursting out of his mouth right before the other was about the enter his mind once more. Tom paused.
"Backing out, Harry?" he questioned. Harry shook his head, frowning slightly.
"No, I just - the Remembrall. What's in it? Surely you have some idea?" Tom was silent, watching him impassively. "Uh, you know the one for Godric's Hollow?" he added.
"Yes," Tom said quietly. "I know which one you mean."
Harry waited for him to continue, but when no answer seemed forthcoming he raised his eyebrows.
"Well?" he prompted.
"Legilimens."
On an instant he was on his knees once more, trying to block out the flow of memories Tom was inducing with his intrusion. The troll, a club swinging down at Hermione's head…laughing with Ron and Hermione in the common room…sitting in Divination, third year, making up predictions for his death. After a moment, just like normal, the presence was gone again, leaving him gasping for breath.
"Tom-"
The thoughts were rushing through his head again. Visions of Death Eater raids, and winning the house cup, flying on Buckbeak and being chased down a street by Dudley's gang. The sensation cleared after a moment, with Tom regarding him thoughtfully.
"Did you mean to produce the effects of a stinging jinx?" the Slytherin Heir questioned.
"No - Tom -"
"-I thought not," the other levelled a wand once more in his direction. "Legilimens."
"Protego!" he snapped.
The next second he was hurtling through memories…duelling, learning of another parseltongue...Godric's Hollow…a wall seemed to slam down, hard and fast and Harry was tossed back, the back of his head smashing against the foot of the couch he had previously pulled himself up to lean against.
There was a moment of utter silence.
"Well, that was a slight improvement, albeit technically cheating," Tom said. "You're supposed to be in a mind art lesson, defence of the mind not the magic… though I must say you'd make a remarkable legilimens, perpetually nosy as you are, I'm impressed, even if our connection did aid you in that endeavour." The tone was a fraction frosty. "Anyhow, as I am not teaching you how to cast shields…leg-"
Harry threw up another shield charm, eyes flashing.
"Stop it," he ordered. "I'm trying to have a conversation here. You're evading the question!"
"Actually, I'm trying to teach you Occlumency," the other drawled lazily.
"Tom." He glared at the Slytherin heir, not lowering his wand. "What memory is in that remembrall, you know, don't you? Tell me."
Tom's expression was unreadable, but his wand moved from pointing directly in his direction. Harry took that as an invitation to finally pursue the topic. "Please," he implored, shifting his own wand to a less hostile stance.
"You don't want to know," the young Dark Lord spoke finally.
"Tell me anyway," he pressed, taking a step forward. Tom's eyes were probing, assessing, and if Harry didn't know what Tom's mind felt like and what Legilimency felt like, he would have sworn up and down that Tom was reading his mind there and then. He wasn't though.
"You misunderstand me. You really don't want to know," Tom said.
"I'm asking," he replied simply. Tom looked away for a moment, jaw tight, before looking back at him.
"Don't you trust me?" he asked. Harry was silent, not willing to touch that volatile topic, merely waiting expectantly. Tom made a sound in the back of his throat. "So stubborn," he murmured. "Always so bloody stubborn."
Harry didn't move under the intense scrutiny he found himself under once again, and was rewarded when Tom wordlessly pulled the remembrall out of his pocket, not breaking their gazes.
He reached to take it, only to find Tom wasn't willing to let go of it - presumably hence he break it to release the memories within. He gave a slight tug, as if to encourage Tom's fingers to loosen their hold on the smoky orb. They didn't yield, nor did the gaze on his face.
"Look at it," Tom suggested. Immediately, Harry glanced down. It was cracked. The remembrall had dozens of miniscule cracks littering its surface. He looked up again, searchingly.
The remembrall had clearly been broken and fixed under the reparo multitudinous times, hundreds of times, for the charm to lose its effect and show the effects of what had once been shattered, rather than seamlessly moulding the glass into its ball.
"You chose to forget," he said. An unease filtered his insides. He was beginning to think Tom was right and that he really didn't want to know. Then again, he didn't want to know the innermost workings of Voldemort's mind either….
"But you have a theory," he guessed, scouring the other's face for any sign to indicate whether he was right or not. Tom's features were a mask, a stone; surrendering no trace of emotion. "Tom?"
"Yes." Tom abruptly pulled his hand back, pocketing the remembrall once more. "Now, shall we move onto to Occlumency without shield charms?"
Without waiting for an answer, the Slytherin Heir raised his wand, directly at his chest. Recklessly, Harry took hold of the handle of Tom's wand, above Tom's own fingers, pushing the wand away from his direction.
"What's your theory?" he asked softly. The Slytherin Heir tried to yank his hand back, as if he were scalded.
"You promised to give me no attitude, Tom stated flatly. "Unless you want these lessons to end, with your abysmal control of Occlumency, I'd fulfil that. You're trying my patience."
"And you're trying mine," he retorted. "It's just a theory, right?"
Tom was unmoved, eyes still not leaving his own. Harry remembered uncomfortably that anyone who held your direct gaze for over six seconds was said to want to kill you. "You know I'll find out anyway. You might as well tell me."
Tom had been looking at him for a lot longer than six seconds. Maybe that was just Tom though. No sense of social rightness if he chose to ignore it.
"Let. Go," the young Dark Lord's orders were clipped now, cold. Harry felt frustration build in his chest.
"I promised you no attitude, you promised me you wouldn't go bipolar on me. Come on, I'm your friend! Tell me."
Tom froze, no longer trying to pull away. Harry resisted the urge to stiffen in response, to hold his breath. He'd never acknowledged that word before. Or any word really, to describe their rather convoluted relationship.
He let his hand drop back to his side, unnerved and wondering if he'd gone too far. Tom immediately walked away from him, pacing across the room like a caged tiger…or a trapped snake. Despite his best efforts, Harry found himself holding his breath.
"You spend a lot of time in Voldemort's head," Tom stated. He nodded, when Tom glanced at him sharply. "You know from the reactions we oftentimes get, like with the Aurors, that you existed in this timeline and that people know who Harrison Evans is. Our time in the past happened."
Harry could feel himself tensing, not knowing where this was going, but suspecting from the deadly serious expression on the others face, the lack of banter, that this was going to be Bad with a capital B. He nodded again. "You know Voldemort knows who you are then, Harrison Evans is Harry Potter."
Dread was starting to curdle in stomach, rancid and bitter.
"Yes…" the list. Another issue.
"Then have you never wondered why in all your times in Voldemort's head you've never seen my memories of this. This conversation. Now." Tom turned to face him, folding his arms, eyes dark.
"I believe the memory is the time I spend here."
Harry's blood ran cold.
A/N: Well. Slightly more interesting chapter. I think. Thanks for all the reviews, they are much appreciated and I hope you enjoy this update.
PS: Some people have expressed confusion over the ending. Basically, the idea I was trying to get through was that the memory in the remembrall, or Tom's theory of what's in it, is that it is the time Tom spends in Harry's time. Everything that's occuring in this fanfic. Does that make any sense?