Chapter 115:
Harry stared at her in utter astonishment for a moment.
"Who's Sauron?" Tom demanded.
"He's a Dark Lord who became famous in 1954 - he's like you, he has a magic ring that keeps him somewhat immortal."
Tom's fingers clenched around said ring protectively, his eyes narrowed.
"If there was another Dark Lord called Sauron I'd know," he said coldly, looking disturbed enough at the thought of ignorance that someone who knew him extremely well would be able to pick up on it despite masks of carelessness. That was, very disturbed.
"He's not a real Dark Lord," Harry interjected, quietly. "Luna, do-"
"-What do you mean he's not a real Dark Lord?" Luna frowned, before her expression cleared. "I know he hasn't got the fluffy white cat, but it's hardly fair to say he's not real because of that. He does still have minions and an army."
Tom opened his mouth to speak.
"-I'll explain about Sauron to you later, Tom," Harry said quickly. "Luna, aside from Sauron's, do you know any other magical rings? You mentioned Tom's…what's special about his?"
The young Dark Lord abruptly snapped out of whatever distracted state 'Sauron' had brought him too, his eyes flashing at the line of questioning.
Hands clamped down on his ears, fingernails digging into his skull in relentless grip, hauling him up off the seat. He tugged his head free before the hold could settle, dodging around the table as the other lunged at him.
"Luna…?" he prompted again, careful to keep his gaze on the Slytherin Heir.
He edged around again, as Tom followed him, wand in hand, with a horribly predatory gait.
"There's a lot of dark magic on it, but otherwise it's nothing special," Luna said.
Harry deflated, but persisted…after all, Tom seemed to think there was something about the ring, so there had to be, unless the whole thing was another red herring, and that couldn't be right.
"Of course, if Tom was to present it to someone after getting down on one knee, it would become more magical," Luna said, her head tilting. "Is he planning on doing that?"
"Don't think so," Harry replied, leaping backwards out of the young Dark Lord's range once more.
Tom had an extremely dangerous expression on his face, and it only confirmed Harry's thoughts.
"There has to be something," he insisted. Luna was quiet for a moment.
"Well, the ring itself is nothing special, but I suppose you could be interested in the resurrection stone-" Harry's head whipped around, to stare at the blonde.
"The resurrection st-damn it!" he realised a second too late that it was a huge mistake to release Tom from his scrutiny, for even a moment.
He spun just as the yew dug into his jugular, and his wand aimed against the other's heart. Luna watched them, unperturbed.
And the next second Madame Pince swept them out the library in a whirlwind of indignation.
"This is a library!"
"-Sorry, but I just need to-"
"-Which means peace and quiet for those who want to study!"
"-I know, but-"
"OUT."
The door slammed shut behind them.
"That was fun," Luna smiled. "I've never been kicked out the library before."
Harry was yanked down the corridor before he could comment.
Rose Zeller, Hufflepuff first year, froze on the spot at the two figures who dropped to sit on a window near her hiding place.
Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. So close that if she took a few steps she'd be able to touch them!
And, oh, they both looked kind of angry.
She might have made a run for it, fleeing instead of giving them the chance of catching her unintentionally eavesdropping, but her body was frozen by fascination and fear.
She tried to keep her breathing quiet, irrationally scared that they would somehow be able to hear the frantic beating of her heart.
"What's the Resurrection Stone, Tom?" Harry demanded, his gaze piercing.
"Take of the Munin Band I'll tell you," the other returned, sweetly. Potter's eyes narrowed, his arms folding across his chest.
"Tell me," he insisted. "You know I'll just find out anyway. You're prolonging the inevitable. Tell me…what are you planning?"
The Slytherin Heir remained silent, staring back. Rose was amazed that the ground didn't start shaking with the magic clash.
She hadn't been in the magic world long, and she didn't know much about it - despite that she was okay in her classes, though she struggled with Transfiguarion - but she could tell that both of these were powerful.
She'd never talked to any of them, she was just a first year and they were Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, everyone knew about them. She'd heard the rumours though, so many rumours that flittered around like fireflies, illuminating their characters, though not always without misconception or in any manner truthfully.
They did both insist they weren't a couple…even if they seemed like one.
This conversation sounded personal.
She shouldn't be listening; but to stop listening now and move away she just knew they would hear, and know she'd listened in the first place.
Would they be angry? It was an accident!
And what was all this about plans?
The silence continued between the two of them, thick with tension and unresolved issues, until Harry broke it again, not removing his attention off the other.
"A Resurrection Stone, presumably, raises or resurrects the dead…their soul, not their body, for the body you'd use the Inferi spell. Who are you looking to resurrect, your father? Except…" here Harry paused, apparently thinking aloud, and Riddle seemed riveted by the thought process, though he gave no confirmation or denial to the validity of it. "You were testing my reactions to your plan, and you talked about fresh starts…which makes me wonder if you were planning on resurrecting my soul, but that would be absurd, as I'm not dead."
"Indeed," Tom murmured. "It would be absurd, wouldn't it? The ring belongs to my family, have you ever considered that to simply be my motivation for favouring it?"
"And yet, so was the Locket," Harry replied, his fingers running along a gold chain that disappeared into his shirt. "And you have little objection to me holding onto that."
"You can't complete a puzzle with only one piece," Riddle stated. "It's when you collect more that your collection it becomes an issue, and why I would keep the ring away from you."
Harry was quiet for a moment, seemingly thinking this over, and it seemed the reference to pieces made more sense to him than it did to her.
Maybe it was a code? Her eyes lit up. She'd always loved mysteries.
"That would make sense," he admitted.
"Most of my actions do," Riddle returned dryly. "Unlike you I'm a rational creature, not an emotional wreck."
"It would make sense," Harry said, in a stronger tone, with a hint of rejection to the words his companion had just spoken, and they both leaned closer, as if the other held their gravity. "If not for the fact you tried to block me from hearing that conversation. If you cared simply because the ring was a," there was an indistinguishable hiss, parseltongue! "then it wouldn't have made a difference if I knew about is resurrection-ing properties."
"Ressurection-ing isn't a word," Tom replied flatly, but Harry seemed to take it as a 'yes' to prove his theory, or whatever, was right, because he smirked.
The smirk vanished promptly, replaced by a serious expression.
"Why do you feel the need to resurrect me, Tom?"
Harry stared at the figure in front of him, an uneasy feeling in his stomach, his instincts buzzing and warning against places he didn't want to go, much like it had when Tom had questioned him about alternate universes.
Tom said nothing for a while, studying him with an odd expression, a dark tint to his gaze.
"We have the deal of if you can get the ring off me, I'll let you keep it…now, to add another condition to that game…if I can get the Munin Band off you, I get to keep it."
"You'd obliviate me," Harry stated, with barely any accusation in his voice. Accusations made no difference, this appeared to just be fact.
"Instantly and without question," Riddle murmured, with that shark-smile, stepping closer, breath on his ear. "You're too good at sabotage, sweetheart."
Harry felt a hand on his, and automatically gripped back. To anyone watching, it would seem they were holding hands, and maybe they were, but it wasn't so cute or fluffy.
In their grip was a tangle of wants and a possessions to be fought over, their fingers another struggle for dominance. If he let go now, Tom's fingers had curled on the band, ready to pull it free, and he had hold of the ring in turn.
Stalemate.
Tom met his stare steadily, speaking as if tug or war wasn't happening. If the other got hold of that band, he could lose everything.
"Resurrecting me wouldn't keep me in this world, if I were to die," Harry said, trying to think like Tom. "So that's a shoddy back up to me dying, if that's your intention. You wouldn't like the limitation of needing a ring to hold me there either. You'd need to anchor my soul to this world, and the only magic that…" he trailed off, his eyes widening, rearing back, his back hitting the wall. Would be a Horcrux.
A Horcrux would keep a soul attached to the world.
"You're right," he said tightly, trying to restrain his tumbling emotions. "I don't like it at all. I don't want one, they're vile, and you're a bastard for even considering making one on my behalf! I like my soul intact, thanks."
The grip on his hand tightened, nearly crushing his bones.
"So give me the Munin band, and it won't weigh unnecessarily on your mind," Tom said smoothly.
"Inferi curse would raise my body," Harry continued, sick, ignoring the other's words. "The stone my soul, and the…" Horcrux. "It would bind everything into this world. I-Tom-no. I don't agree to this. That's…that's not right. Death shouldn't be messed with."
"I'm fully aware of your opinion on the matter," Tom replied, with an edge of irritation. "I just don't give a damn. Consider it merely as your good friend saving you from your own self-destructiveness."
"You're awfully convinced I'm going to die, and at the moment, my death shouldn't be at the forefront of your mind, as oblivion seems more likely. You said you had a plan to resolve this whole time thing, or at least, that's what I thought your plan was…? You said you hadn't given up…unless," Harry tried to step back again, as if space were liable to aid his mental coherency (quite possible.) "Unless, you somehow viewed oblivion to be the same as death, and I-" that was where his thought process ran dry.
And then what? Could this work as a way of keeping from oblivion, but in a new world…or the past?
He didn't know.
Confusion tugged at his mind, incessant uncertainty.
Fingers squeezed his, almost reassuringly.
He glanced down at the mark on his arm, nausea rolling in his stomach. What would that transcend? To what lengths was it a link? He swallowed.
What would cause his death, or if that twitching in his gut was correct, oblivion?
The changing of the past. Tom said he hadn't given up on being Voldemort…so he would change the past…and this…spell, or whatever, would what?
Tie him to Tom so that he survived where the rest of his world did not? T
ied to the earth by the skin of his soul, and Tom's magic.
All of his muscles tensed.
It sounded absurd…absolutely absurd…Tom didn't think it would work, would he? How could he do it in time…unless he was already working on it, and had been for some time.
"You told me the end of the year," he stated, looking down, "but you're not working to that deadline, are you? Damn you, are you?"
"No," Tom admitted, evenly. "I'm not."
"Then why are you stalling going back…unless," he looked down at their entwined hands, the ring on Tom's finger. "You don't…didn't have all the pieces either…and you still need to create your spell, your no doubt horrendously complex spell." The oddest sense of relief grew in his chest, warm like a candle. He started laughing, hysterically. "You're not ready yet."
"Nice to see it amuses you," Tom said dangerously, "because my no doubt horrendously complex spell is still likely to be ready before you are able to possess all the components to your own plan."
Any laughter or mirth disappeared abruptly at that reminder, filled by a terrible feeling.
"Put down the restrictions," he implored, his grip tight on Tom's hand and arm. "This isn't a game."
"No, it's not," the Slytherin Heir replied softly. "I told you that we'd play as equals, and right now, as you so eloquently put it, we're not playing." Fury surged, and the fingers of their right hand remained locked together in battle for band and ring as Tom quickly continued. "I said you'd be able to match me, that you're my equal - my only equal, mind - so what on earth makes you think I'd give you the opportunity to beat me when the stakes are so high?"
"You realise I will never forgive you if you force me to go along with this, so the whole things moot, isn't it?"
Tom laughed, an awful, cold laugh, tinged by bitter sadness.
"I don't care if you forgive me or not. I'd rather have you alive and fighting me every step of the way than dead and boring."
Harry sucked in a sharp breath at that.
"And if I stopped fighting you-" he began.
"-Feel free to," Tom's smile was deadly. "It makes my job easier…and then, when I win, which I will, do you really want to see what I can come up with to get a reaction? Oh the fun we shall have."
Harry stared at him, disbelieving. Was this a joke?
"I'll stop you," he promised.
"You won't."
The certainty in the other's voice chilled his blood.
A/N: Um, so, not a super long chapter, but not shabby length either. Sorry about lack of quality. If you're worried about Harry's lack of reaction…it hasn't sunk in yet. You will get it. Thanks for the reviews, you guys are the best.
RIP ROGER 3 My precious laptop has died on me, so my updates will probably become far less frequent until he is resurrected or reincarnated. =( I cry myself to sleep.
Oh, and please do my new poll ;)