Chapter 106:

"Tom…" he began, slowly, his mind racing.

Tom seemed to have noticed the change in his countenance because, like when Harry was self-assured in Grimmauld, he somehow flipped to an even greater focus and attention in awareness of the shift.

"For the future to happen, Voldemort has to happen, right?" he verified. Tom blinked.

"That's what I've been telling you," he drawled. "Is there a point to that question or are you just extremely slow on the uptake?"

"Yes, there's a point," Harry snapped, mildly. "So someone has to be Voldemort, but…does that person have to be you?" he asked, praying inside his head for the answer he so wanted to hear.

Tom frowned.

"If you're suggesting we take, polyjuice and compel some random wizard off the street to pretend to be me-" he started, dangerously.

"No!" Harry leaned forwards slightly in engagement, his spine bizarrely straightening. "I mean you have to be Voldemort, but…aren't there currently two of you? By your own definition?"

Tom's eyes widened.

"You're suggesting we send Voldemort back in time to be me? Create a time loop?"

"It would work, wouldn't it?" Harry could feel his eyes sparkling, his hopes swelling. "You have the same soul, technically. It could work, and you'd be free to do whatever you want from the point he'd been sent back onwards, because it would all happen regardless."

"He'd never agree to it," Tom stated, but it wasn't flatly, it was thoughtfully.

"No," Harry could feel something click, his thoughts spinning like tornados. "But we don't need his permission either, do we? Maybe that's why he can't remember. It was just your theory, wasn't it, that the remembrall held your memories of this year?" he confirmed. His heart pounded. "Well, what if it's just that, a theory, did you ever actually check? What if it was never your memories but Voldemort's? All the memories of a never ending time loop…so many memories that a remembrall would crack in efforts to contain them?" Harry suggested.

Tom's eyes were distant with contemplation.

Of course, there was one thing the Slytherin Heir wouldn't like about this plan, but if Harry just didn't tell him about it…Tom was studying him now, a cautious gleam in his gaze, a hope, a wired tension in his shoulders.

"Voldemort's nothing like me," Tom continued, his doubts and rejections spoken aloud, but not unyieldingly, more as if he was only arguing in token gesture. "He can't do everything history requires…his soul is probably too instable to make more Horcrux-"

Tom came to an abrupt halt, staring at him.

"No." Tom's shoulders seemed to slump again, and his features hardened. "No."

"No what?" Harry asked innocently.

"No you are not using the Horcruxes to put Voldemort back together again, back into being me," Tom hissed. "That involves you being brain damaged as the Horcrux tears out of your mind. I won't allow it."

Damn it.

"It's the best case scenario," Harry spat, infuriated at his ideas being rejected yet again (and what the hell was Tom even doing to contribute!) "Besides, you mentioned that there was a proper way of taking out Horcruxes! If you would just teach me-"

"The proper way would be for Voldemort to cast another Avada Kedavra at you, without you doing a thing to defend yourself, which is unacceptable as even then we're not sure what would happen. Besides, he wouldn't re-absorb the Horcrux, it would die, so you wouldn't be able to play your little game of Patchwork People anyway," Tom replied,

Harry was suddenly eerily reminded of Marvolo, with those words.

"You don't have the parts to pull this off," Tom continued, his voice less harsh now. "You destroyed the Diary, he's always going to be missing something anyway, it's not viable."

"You could fill in the gaps-" Harry began, hating himself as that suggested Tom made that one, small Horcrux, but…at this rate he was going to do it anyway…

"-And you would still end up with the mental age of a one year old!" Tom cut in, furiously, fists clenched. "So what would be the point? I might as well just go back and wipe you into oblivion, it would probably be the kinder alternative."

"And come seventeen years or so, my mind would rebuild and develop itself," Harry insisted, stubbornly.

"As some stranger," Tom countered coldly. "Your experiences make you what and who you are, and you'd never be able to replicate your life again. It wouldn't be the same. No. I won't let you do it."

"But-"

"I don't want to argue with you," Tom interrupted, quietly. "It's a waste of time. Enough."

The unspoken awareness that Tom was referring to the time until the end of the year, when all Fate crashed down on their backs, rang heavy in the space between them. Harry clenched his jaw.

There was an awkward, painful silence.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Tom said, softly, unbearably softly. "But there's nothing you can do."

.No, Harry corrected in his mind: there was nothing he could do with Tom's approval.

But since when had he ever needed it?

Ginny could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as he stared at her, icily, no warmth of friendliness present in the hateful expression he seemed to reserve her.

She'd made some comment to him, again, some stupid comment because it was for his own good not to be around Riddle - he was evil! He'd tried to kill her! - because she'd needed his attention…because she wished he might see this time.

See her dying, screaming, fading away and becoming something else entirely.

Just like in her first year.

Because of Him….she'd thought that maybe if she somehow got Harry's attention for long enough, that he would notice, and save her. Save her like he always did.

Instead…he'd just rounded on her, stating in a clinical tone that she was the most pathetic excuse for a human being he'd ever set eyes on.

"Stop following me around, don't even talk to me," Harry continued, relentlessly, fists clenched. "I don't want to have anything to do with me. I never did! The Chamber…you think I did any of that for you? It was never about you, you were simply the silly little girl who poured her soul out to a stranger. Love you, Ginerva?" he sneered. "I don't even like you."

"You…you still saved me!" she said, angrily. He scoffed.

"Nah, you were just my excuse to meet the Slytherin Heir, and didn't want Hogwarts to close either, which is why I bothered to stop the attacks. From the bottom of my heart, I honestly would not have cared if you died. Hell, it would probably have been better if you did, than you wouldn't constantly follow me around."

With a glance at Ron, who was watching, speechless, Harry spun around and turned on his heel, disappearing into the throng of his Slytherin friends.

Everyone was staring at the two of them, some appalled, but others hiding cruel sniggers into their sleeves, or not hiding them at all.

Her cheeks burned, and the tears swelled to fall down her cheeks despite how much she tried to press them inside her eyelids, trying to hold it in, her foolish pride defied.

She slid to the floor, head buried in her hands; now knowing how it felt to have your heart broken into pieces.

He hadn't seen. He hadn't even noticed how much she needed him, how much she was just wishing he-anyone-her saviour would see the way she wasted away, her life spiralling and circling the drain.

She'd never felt so lost, as if her whole foundation had just been brutally ripped out from beneath her.

She was so stupid! What if he had seen? What if he simply didn't care? He hadn't cared in the Chamber it seemed.

Maybe she was worthless?

Invisible, because no one could see the scars of Tom Riddle painted across her soul in ugly black stains. No one had really thought about how having him around would affect her, they were all to enamoured.

He was just like she remembered him: charming and enchanting, with a smile that could make the sun blind with its radiance, a quick wit, an ability to know just what to say and when…a sparkling intelligence, perfect handsomeness, and that…that lack of caring patience that simply drove the dagger in further as it mocked her with how naïve she had been to think that someone like him would ever like or care for or want some like her.

She pressed the heels of her hands fiercely into her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her whole and let her be in the darkness forever.

Dark like him.

Harry had been her hero - back then, he'd been like the Tom she knew, if not quite so razor sharp.

He was endearing and charming, with a smile that could make the sun blind with its radiance, a quick wit, and he was famous and rich…a fairytale prince. So sweet, so kind, and with that caring patience that she'd come to depend on from Tom.

They even looked something alike.

Had she attached her love so firmly on Harry because he was the closest she could find to Tom? The boy she'd come to love before he turned on her and destroyed her, all with that smile and that engaging light in his eyes...

She didn't dare think about it - because they were both gone now, and she was left broken and having to fix herself.

"Ginny?" her youngest brother questioned, hesitantly. "You alright?" He rested a tentative hand on her shoulder, and she curled towards him, sobbing despite her best friends. Her breaths hitched in her throat.

"I hate him," she mumbled. "I hate him I hate him I HATE him!"

She was even sure which him she was talking about anymore. The lines blurred, losing her, and she didn't know how to find her way back anymore.

"I know," Ron murmured. "I just…you're stronger than this, you don't need him."

"Don't I?" she whispered. His grip tightened on her shoulders, causing her head to snap up, his gaze was blazing with sorrow, determination, conviction and something else entirely that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"No, you don't. You're my baby sister…and you even terrify Fred and George with your bat bogey…you don't need Harry to be able to stand up on yourself. You're fierce, and loyal, and kind and I'm pretty sure Dean thinks you're really pretty, hey?"

She blushed slightly.

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed, firmly. "Ask any Gryffindor. They'll tell you. You can get through this, Gin."

"You're being very sweet," she mumbled, half wondering if she should be suspicious over where her tactless, thoughtless, oblivious brother had gone.

Her lips pressed together with resolve.

She was better than this.

Better than Harry. And Tom.

She was still surving, wasn't she? Her head felt clearer at the very thought.

She could do this. She didn't need Harry.

He ran around after Tom just as much as she ever did.

He was the pathetic one!

And then there was blackness and a sharp pain in her head.

Harry closed the door to Dumbledore's office quietly behind him, surveying the old Headmaster looked up over his half-moon spectacles, a quill in one hand as he pored over documents, while the man petted Fawkes with the other hand.

"Harry," he greeted, neutrally. "Were you aware that Miss Weasley collapsed soon after that speech of yours earlier?"

There was a glint in blue eyes, and a sadness.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked, quietly, the guilt at saying such horrible things still churning in his gut.

"I dare say she will make a full recovery. She's been looking rather ill for a while now, funnily enough she now seems to be regaining colour and - dare I say - life?"

Dumbledore shot him a piercing look, one with that strange knowledge that reminded why younger students assumed that the Headmaster was truly omniscience.

He seemed to know everything, even now, despite his flaws, and for once Harry was grateful of that. Grateful that there was at least one more member of the light that wouldn't be up in arms against him for his 'senseless' cruelty in cutting down the girl.

But he couldn't help but feel simultaneously annoyed; if Dumbledore had been aware of what was happening, why hadn't he done anything? Another test. Harry's mind supplied the answer immediately, dully.

He folded his arms, not wanting to examine that right now, he had other priorities. The locket was warm above his heart.

"I need you to help me track down the Horcruxes; though I would prefer you didn't assign me a detention or add your unwelcome opinions on Tom this time round."

Dumbledore blinked, and then, slowly, smiled.

A/N: So, life is stressful, my fingers are freezing, Christmas is almost here…but have another update. =) I hope you guys liked it. Thanks again for the fabulous reviews. They keep me motivated, and smiling despite everything else. Much appreciation.

Non Slash reward; I still owe you one for 100 chapters/2000 reviews. Any suggestions?