-o-o-o-

"That man and mystery
Were both in you"

– The Phantom of the Opera

-o-o-o-

Ten-year-old Harry was having the best day. He was in the zoo for the first time in his life, only because the old lady from the neighborhood couldn't take him to her stinky house and the Dursleys didn't know what else to do with him.

Barty didn't like what he was seeing at all.

The Muggles bought large chocolate ice creams for their son and his friend. Harry wasn't supposed to get anything, but before they managed to hurry him away from the van, the lady had already asked Harry what he wanted, so, in order not to attract unwanted attention, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop.

The scene wasn't the worst part. The worst part was how Harry felt about it. He wasn't angry or jealous – he was happy. He felt lucky he got that ice pop. A regular child would have thrown a fit and demanded to have what the other kids were having, but not Harry. He knew he'd always get something worse or nothing at all. He knew he was something worse. It made Barty's blood boil.

They ate large desserts at the zoo restaurant while Harry sat there and watched. When his fat cousin had a tantrum because he wanted more ice cream on top, he got a new portion and Harry was gracefully allowed to eat his leftovers, which he was also happy about. Barty thought he was going to be sick.

He sensed Harry's panicked mind and burning shame that Barty was seeing this. Why, Barty wondered. It's the Muggles who should be ashamed.

He withdrew from Harry's mind, leaving him panting heavily.

"You are completely scatter-brained. You're way too concerned with what I'm able to see and with the fact that you don't want me to see it. It's as if a fire broke out right here, in this room, and you started running around in panic, instead of actually stopping in front of it to try and put it out."

Harry cast him an angry glare, which strangely reminded him of the Dark Lord in one of his darker moods. He quickly suppressed a grin that threatened to form on his face at the thought. He wouldn't like Harry to think he was mocking him.

"Okay," the boy took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "So how do I put out the fire?"

Barty gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry about it for now. First, let's teach you how to find the source of the fire in the first place," he rolled his eyes theatrically at the use of his own poor metaphor. "I know it's uncomfortable to have someone see your thoughts and memories," he said softly at the sight of Harry's disappointed frown, "but it's important that you learn to recognize when someone is trying to steal into your mind."

The frown didn't disappear from the boy's face but he pressed his lips together and nodded with determination.

"Shall we try again?"

Harry nodded once more and raised his gaze to Barty's.

"Try to focus on my presence in your mind."

Harry was making an effort. At first it was rather hazy, but eventually Barty felt Harry's consciousness brush up against his. Then it got lost somewhere again for a moment. Barty waited patiently, sensing Harry's struggle to locate the intruder. His grip on Barty's awareness was coming and going. Letting the boy take his time, he drifted a while longer in his surface thoughts.

It turned out most of his surface thoughts circled around the Dark Lord. Pieces of memories were shooting through his head. A diary lying on a stone floor next to the Weasley girl, who seemed to be dead. A young boy, slightly older than Harry, standing over her with that haughty smirk Barty would recognize anywhere. The teenager looked exactly like in Harry's dream which he had glimpsed into a few days before. "In a few minutes I will cease to be a memory and Lord Voldemort will return…" The memory of the boy being ripped to pieces as Harry destroyed the diary... Young Voldemort touching Harry's cheek tenderly. "Join me, and you will have my protection…" Voldemort caressing Harry's hair by the fire… Harry in Voldemort's arms… Voldemort's anger and promise to kill Malfoy's son… "Tom, it's nothing, really…" Voldemort holding Harry's chin and leaning in to kiss him. Slowly at first, then more passionately, pushing him lightly against the wall and pinning him with his body, causing a small moan to escape Harry's lips…

Barty blinked furiously and looked away, breaking the connection.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"It's okay," Harry panted, rubbing his forehead. He looked exhausted.

"You did better this time," he praised.

Barty's mind was replaying Harry's memories over and over, he couldn't help himself. Lord Voldemort's younger version preserved in a diary… how very interesting. And Harry called him Tom…

Harry's questioning expression made Barty realize he was staring at him.

"What?"

Barty licked his lips.

"Is it…" he began, but then shook his head. "No, nothing."

"It's all right, Barty, you can ask me," Harry smiled.

He hesitated. He shouldn't pry. No, he shouldn't, but he just heard it anyway, didn't he?

"Is it his real name?" he beamed, "Tom?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed with a smile. Then he raised his hand in alarm, "But don't ever call him that! He'd kill you on the spot."

"Of course," he said hastily, "I would never…" but the stupid grin wouldn't go off his face.

He pulled a chair over for Harry to sit on. The boy was too tired to learn anything more today. He should go to sleep, it was very late.

Barty thought it would be much harder to arrange meetings for lessons with Harry, but it seemed both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore underestimated his talent and eagerness for breaking the rules. Apparently, the boy has been roaming the castle at night from day one. He knew how to get around unnoticed.

"I feel like I made no progress at all," Harry yawned, still rubbing his forehead.

"Yes, you did," Barty countered. "At the beginning you couldn't even tell I was reading your mind, remember?" he almost laughed when the boy grunted. "Occlumency is a very complicated art. You won't master it in a matter of days."

That did not brighten Harry's mood.

"How long will it take then?"

"I can't say how long it will take," he sighed. "But I can tell you how long we have, and that's a little over a month."

"Why, what's happening in a month?" Harry asked.

"The Tournament champions will be chosen. When your name pops out, there will be mayhem. Dumbledore will try to read your mind to find out if you submitted your name, no doubt. You must be ready to block your thoughts by then."

Harry let out a long breath and drummed his fingers against his knees nervously.

"Assuming I manage to learn it," he fumbled with his robe, "won't Dumbledore know it then?"

"Yes," Barty said gravely, "he'll know you've been learning Occlumency. But he won't confront you about it."

"No?"

Barty couldn't stand the insecurity in Harry's voice. It reminded him of the ten-year-old who thought he didn't deserve to be treated to ice cream.

"Harry," he put his hands on the boy's shoulders and bent down to look him in the face. "you have the right to learn Occlumency. He, on the other hand, does not have the right to read your mind without permission. What's he going to do, admit he's been looking into your thoughts all these years?"

"But isn't he going to suspect something?" Harry's eyes were wide with worry.

"Of course he'll suspect something," he shrugged. "but we don't have a choice. With the… um… relationship you have with the Dark Lord, you can't just walk around with your mind unshielded anymore."

"I know," he sighed.

Something about his vulnerability made Barty forget for a moment that the boy sitting in front of him was entwined with his master, and he tousled his hair fondly.

"Go to bed, Harry. We've done enough for today."

Barty wrinkled his nose as Harry picked up his Invisibility Cloak. He didn't have pleasant memories concerning the object.

"Where did you get this Cloak, anyway?" he asked.

"Dumbledore gave it to me," he threw it on, leaving only his head floating in mid-air.

Barty raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Why would he do that?"

Harry's hands re-appeared as he stroked the invisible fabric nostalgically.

"It belonged to my father."

"Huh," Barty mused. "But still… why would he do that?" he said more to himself than the boy. "Well… off you go then. Goodnight."

He let Harry out and went to bed as well, but sleep didn't come. He couldn't stop thinking several issues over.

If Dumbledore wanted to keep an eye on Harry, why would he give him something that made him invisible? He must have either been sure Harry would always include his friends in his endeavors, who would at least keep him from leaving the school grounds (but Barty doubted it), or he must have some way of tracking the boy outside of Hogwarts. He would have to figure out what that method was, and how to cheat it, for his master's plan to work.

But there were other things keeping him awake. Things he shouldn't concern himself with. He probably already went a little over the line enquiring about the Dark Lord's given name, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask questions about the really interesting stuff.

The relationship his master suddenly formed with Harry was… odd, to say the least. Admittedly, the Dark Lord has been obsessed with the Potter boy since the day he was born, but the drive to kill him switching to the drive to protect him at all costs like that must have been caused by something deeper than the fact he had transferred some of his powers to him. Obviously, it was more than that – the Dark Lord told him himself they shared a special connection. He had even used the phrase "unbreakable bond", if Barty remembered correctly. All due to his preparations for another experiment on his way to immortality on the night of his downfall. That's why he is so much like me, his master's words echoed in his head.

The disturbing thing was, however, that Harry wasn't just "so much like him". There were moments when Barty looked him in the eye and for a split second felt like he was him. The Dark Lord could slip in and out of the boy's mind, being miles away from him. From what he understood, they connected best through dreams, but maybe it wasn't even necessary. He has never heard of any magic which could do something like this… Unless… No, but this wasn't possible. Not with a living person… Although, hasn't his master pushed the limits of impossible before?

He smacked himself mentally. It was not his place to wonder about his Lord's business. If he wanted Barty to know, he would tell him.

But he couldn't stop analyzing, in spite of himself. That diary. A memory capable of acting on its own. "In a few minutes I will cease to be a memory and Lord Voldemort will return…" It was just too much like…

Barty actually slapped himself in the face. The Dark Lord would not be pleased with his prying. He forced himself to clear his mind, and resolved to stop thinking about the mystery Harry Potter was.

-x-x-x-

Doesn't Barty know it's dangerous to think too much? :]