'I can't believe you killed my aunt.'

I can't believe you care. How many times did she sic that awful dog of hers on you? I would have preferred to make her death a lot more painful, but anything more complicated would have left a much more obvious magical signature. There's no point in murdering someone if you get arrested for it.

'You shouldn't kill people at all!'

That has got to be the worst argument I've ever heard. You can't always find a peaceful solution. Oftentimes, force must be met with force.

'You're terrible.'

So you've told me.

"Boy!" Vernon's gruff voice shouts out. "Get down here!"

I walk down the stairs to see Vernon and Dudley dressed in black suits, with Petunia wearing a black dress.

"Yes, uncle?"

"We're going to Marge's funeral. Stay here, and make sure the place is spotless when we get back. Anything less than that, and you won't get any food for a week, you hear?"

"Of course, uncle."

"Good, then we're off. Break anything while we're gone and starving will be the least of your worries."

As I hear the sound of the car's engine fade into the distance, Tamelyn speaks up.

Good. Let's get out of here.

'Wait, what?'

Your awful muggle relatives have left you here alone. We will grasp this opportunity to leave this sterile hovel that they call a home.

'And go where?'

Diagon, probably. Tom doesn't care much if you're underage when it comes to room renting.

'What about the house? They'll be beyond mad if I don't clean it, and they'll make me face the music for not doing so eventually, even if they have to wait all year to do so.'

Oh that's easy. Let me just grab your wand…

Tamelyn begins moving my wand through the motions for a spell, but I also feel a powerful flowing sensation throughout my body as she does so.

'What the hell are you doing?'

Overcharging the spell. Now shut up and let me concentrate.

The flowing sensation is replaced with a feeling of building pressure, and just as it feels like it's about to reach its peak, Tamelyn casts the spell.

"Tergeo!"

A shockwave is released from my body as the spell is cast, nearly knocking me over in the process.

'What the hell was that?'

An overcharged cleaning spell. That was way stronger than it should have been, though. I should have compensated for the fact that our cores are partially combined, what with the "fused soul" bullshit. Between that and the above average size of our cores, the weakness of your body is currently the chokepoint for your casting. You may want to fix that.

'What the hell is a core?'

…I am half tempted to let you have a look through some of my memories just so you'll stop being so uneducated. Now come on, we've lost enough time arguing.

Tamelyn retrieves my belongings from under the stairs with a simple alohomora, and releases Hedwig from her cage, telling her to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron.

'I'm embarrassed that I never thought to do that.'

Good, you should be.

As she shrinks and pockets my trunk, a question occurs to me.

'How are we getting to London, anyways?'

The Knight Bus.

'The what?'

…I refuse to explain the thousandth thing that you should have known about by now. Now shut up and let's go.

Wand in hand, Tamelyn begins walking my body out the door. Before she can do… whatever it is that she needs to do to call the bus, a large black dog comes out of the bushes in Number 6's yard.

'A dog? I've never-'

Grim! Run!

'What?'

Tamelyn runs to the roadside and sticks my wand in the air. With a loud "Bang!", a triple-decker, vibrantly purple bus pulls up out of thin air. The greasy teenager at the back begins reading from a card.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus. Your transportation for-"

"Don't care! Leaky Cauldron! Now!"

Tamelyn shoves a handful of sickles at the teen, and runs to a seat in the middle of the bus. I take a glance back to the dog, and see it sitting forlornly at the side of the road where I took off.

'Why did you freak out like that?'

That was a bloody grim, Potter! An omen of death! I don't want to die! That was the whole point of splitting my soul!

'Hold on, you split your soul?'

I did say there was a part of my soul in your scar.

'I assumed that was an accident!'

It probably was. The soul fragment was improperly bound, and it's honestly a miracle that it never became dislodged before. The other splits were intentional, though.

'You… deliberately split your soul so you wouldn't die? Multiple times!?'

It was a reasonable price to pay, though it did suck for this part of me, specifically. Being stuck in a diary was dreadfully boring, even if I had a limited sense of the passage of time for most of it.

My mind reels at the extent she was willing to go to, all in the name of avoiding death.

'Was it worth it?'

I'm not dead yet, so I'm inclined to say "yes".

'…I would say "you're terrible" again, but I think we're both getting tired of that line.'

Glad to see you're sparing my feelings. Now shut up and let me enjoy the ride. I've always found the Knight Bus to be pleasantly exhilarating.

Adding that as another point on my ever growing list of why my mental hitchhiker is insane, I do my best to avoid being bruised by the reckless careening of "Ern", the bus's driver. Despite my own disagreements with the manner of transport, I feel continual waves of contentment coming from Tamelyn, and, much as I hate to admit it, I do eventually find it relaxing, if only by proxy.

…I think I overdid it when I possessed you back there. I was doing way too much while in control, and you were awake, which tends to make it harder. Overcharging that spell was a huge mistake, though. It's exhausting enough overpowering that ward on your soul without adding high-stress magic into the equation.

'Are you okay?'

'M fine. Just gonna doze off for a bit.

'How does that even work, anyways? How can you fall asleep without my body falling asleep, too?'

…

'Hello?'

…

Huh. I guess she did manage it. Magic is weird.

The conductor evidently grew bored of standing around, so he comes up and starts a conversation with me.

"Whadid 'choo say 'choo name was, again?" He asks.

"I didn't." I reply tersely.

He fails to take my silence as a signal that I don't want to keep speaking with him, so when I don't offer my name, he asks.

"Well, whas 'choo name, then?"

No way am I giving this guy my real name. "Riddle." I reply, giving the first name I can think of that isn't publicly connected to me. Tamelyn probably won't mind. I hope.

"'Choo godda firs' name?" He asks, still not taking the hint.

"Tom." I reply, immediately going for the last name Tamelyn told me — that of the Leaky Cauldron barkeeper.

"'S a pretty normal name you got." He replies.

"I'm well aware." Can't this guy take a hint?

"You kinda look like 'Arry Potter."

Goddamnit! "I get that a lot."

Much to my relief, he leaves the seat next to me and begins meandering around the bus, somehow managing to keep his balance in the process.

Tamelyn's still "asleep" when we arrive at the dingy pub in downtown London, so I'm left to handle getting a room on my own. It's a rather bizarre sensation, having my "passenger" sleep. On one level, I appreciate the rare silence, but on another, I almost find myself missing her.

…That has kind of disturbing implications, honestly.

Pushing my thoughts about my newfound and uncharacteristic affection for the junior Dark Lady in my head aside, I approach the barman.

"Hello, Mister Potter," he greets me, "what can I do for you today?"

"Hello, Tom." I say, trying to act as though I didn't just use his name to get a weirdo off my back. "I need to rent a room until the morning of September first."

Tom raises an eyebrow at that. "That's just shy of four weeks, Mister Potter. Are your guardians all right with you being on your own for so long?"

"Yes." I reply. It's probably true. They'll be mad that they can't force me to do all the chores, but at least I'll be out of their hair.

Tom shrugs and I dump all the galleons I have on the counter with a promise to pay the remaining balance once I have a chance to go to Gringotts. Tom points me to a room on the second floor and I leave the dingy and dirty pub behind for a slightly less dingy and dirty room.

A tapping at the window confirms that Hedwig arrived here ahead of me. I let her in and lay down on the bed for a while, basking in the rare feeling of doing nothing. Between the Dursleys hounding me to do chores in the summer, Hermione hounding me to do schoolwork, and the fact that I always get wrapped up in some inane bullshit at school, I rarely have moments to clear my head and relax.

That's probably why you're pants at occlumency.

'Finally awake are you? Are you going to tell me what occlumency is, or am I going to have to keep pumping you for information any time you offhandedly mention something?'

It's the reason I can look at your memories at my leisure but you can't see any of mine. I can shield myself from you. Just so you know, after you get some money, we are going to several bookstores and you are going to learn all of this stuff so I can stop explaining things to you.

'Fair enough. Not like I have anything to do for the remainder of August, anyways.'

I also need to make a few pick ups of my own. Returning me to a body is going to be a bit more complicated now that my soul is connected to yours. I have a plan, but I need to look over some principles of soul magic and do some arithmancy to make sure my idea is solid.

'I think you'll understand my hesitance to return you to a body. Isn't it better for me to keep you in here, where I can at least keep an eye on you? Besides which, while you may be bound not to harm me by a vow, I have no guarantee that you'll get core-you off my back.'

That's exactly the sort of Slytherin attitude you need to cultivate. If it makes you feel better, this plan is literally impossible without your willing help, and it will take some time to prepare. You'll have plenty of opportunities to decide if it's worth helping me before we'll be ready to go through with it.

'And what if I don't help you? Would you just accept staying prisoner in my head?'

Of course not. If you refused, then I'd just spend the next several years learning how this ward around your soul works, then overpower it and possess you. I'd prefer not to subject myself to the scrutiny of being the boy-who-lived, though, nor do I want to wait that long.

'You had no problem with it back in the chamber.'

My only alternative back in the chamber was to kill someone for the sake of my resurrection then kill the only witness. Whatever scrutiny I would have gotten from being you would have been nothing compared to what would have happened if I'd killed two school age children, one of whom is a national hero, in the country's premier school. This new method would be far less obvious to anyone not versed in several obscure fields of magic.

'That makes a fair amount of sense, actually.'

It does. This new method also means I don't have to occupy a male body. I find it quite uncomfortable.

'Core-you was on the back of a male professor's head for an entire school year.'

And while I admire her for being able to do that, it's not an experience I ever hope to have myself. Being inside your head is awkward enough. Now, I need a little more time to rest before I can possess you again, so if you have anything you'd like to get done, now's a good time to do it.

'Nope. I planned on just relaxing for a while.'

Good. A nap might do both of us some good after putting up with those foul creatures you have the misfortune of sharing an abode with.

'You certainly are creative with your names for them, aren't you?'

I don't have a body. I need some way to occupy myself.

I decide a nap probably would do me some good, so I kick off my shoes and curl up under the blanket, where sleep easily claims me.

'This is a terrible idea.'

And you are obnoxiously pessimistic. Now let me take over and cast some charms on your damn cloak!

The cloak in question is not my invisibility cloak. I consider it bad enough that she knows about said cloak — there's no way I would let her cast charms on a precious family heirloom.

No, this is my standard school cloak. And Tamelyn wants to use it so we can sneak into Knockturn Alley. Which, based on my last experience there, I believe to be a very bad idea.

Tamelyn doesn't wait for my approval before she takes over and begins casting several charms on my cloak. I recognise a variation on the notice-me-not charm, though I can't place the rest that she uses.

There, this should keep us from being identified. I'll let you do the walking so I don't risk burning myself out by maintaining control for too long again.

'Gee, thanks.'

Your sarcasm is not appreciated. Now get going — I'll give you directions.

Tamelyn leads me deep into Knockturn Alley, far deeper than I was last time. Our destination is so out of the way that no one is even remotely nearby by the time we get there. The shop itself is so filthy that the windows are opaque and the sign above the door is illegible.

Alright, I'm taking over from here. I don't trust you to keep your cool when dealing with a vampire.

'Wait, what!? Why do you hate telling me things ahead of time!?'

Because you'll freak out. Now, it's time for me to smooth talk our way into getting at least one very highly illegal book, hopefully several highly illegal books.

Tamelyn walks into the shop, projecting an air of confidence that I'm sure I couldn't manage in this situation.

"It's rare to see one so young in here." A voice sounds from behind us.

Tamelyn turns around at a comfortable pace to see a man — presumably the vampire she mentioned — leaning against the door we just entered from.

'How did he-?'

Vampire. Now shush.

"Hello, Albert." Tamelyn greets him.

"My, my, on a first-name basis, are we? I can't say I recall meeting you before, sir. Or is that miss? You seem to be an odd mixture of sorts…"

Tamelyn lets out a smile, though I'm pretty sure it's not visible under the charms she placed on the cloak. "We last met over fifty years ago, at least from my perspective. I am indeed an 'odd mixture', as you so eloquently phrased, and I know that your fine establishment holds some old tomes that can offer a solution to my… conundrum."

The vampire walks behind the counter, and begins wiping copious amounts of dust off the counter. "So, what can I get you?" He asks genially.

"I need a copy of Dividing the Soul and whatever books you have on blood alchemy."

The vampire smiles, exposing his ethereally white teeth and long fangs. "Why Miss Riddle, it has been a while. Are you a split or the main soul?"

"A split — the first one, to be precise — and the only sapient one. The process was rather cumbersome, after all."

He begins unlocking some boxes under the counter as he speaks. "Yes, you are quite sane for a soul shard. Was this a resurrection or a possession?"

"Possession. A partial one, at that. My host is panicking up a storm in the back of my mind right now."

'Hey!'

Well, you are!

The vampire raises an eyebrow. "Partial possession? I thought that was impossible to do without slowly killing the host…"

"There were extenuating circumstances that lead to our current equilibrium. How much for the books?"

"For Dividing the Soul, Principles of the Blood, and Alchemic Properties of Life, the total will be seven hundred galleons."

Tamelyn puts coins on the scale until it reads out "700", then shrinks the books and puts them in our pocket.

'Those books were expensive.'

Of course they are. What part of "highly illegal" wasn't clear?

'But still! Seven hundred galleons? That's worth, uh… What is the exchange rate between pounds and galleons, anyways?'

Oh, for the love of… How do you know literally nothing about the wizarding world!? Did you just expect to be able to cruise by on everything!?

'Well, uh…'

Of course. Well, like I said before, I refuse to be associated with someone so lazy and unmotivated. I am grabbing a bunch of books for you to read, and I expect you to have them all memorised by the time Hogwarts starts back up. For the record, seven hundred galleons is worth around fourteen thousand pounds.

'Fourteen thousand!? You just spent the equivalent of fourteen thousand pounds? How much money do I have?'

A fair bit. Your family has always been somewhat entrepreneurial, so you've accumulated a tidy sum of wealth. Not enough that you could live your life making reckless purchases, but enough that you wouldn't have to work unless you want to.

'Huh, I honestly didn't know that. So how were you able to afford those books fifty years ago? Did you have some inheritance from the Slytherin line?'

I wish. My maternal family had squandered most of their wealth decades ago by the time I got to them. No, I had no wealth to my name besides that which I earned. I wasn't able to afford the books, but I was allowed to read them in exchange for paying an hourly rate and occasionally offering my blood.

'You let a vampire drink from you? Isn't that contagious?'

It takes more than drinking someone's blood for a vampire to turn someone. No, there was no risk of me being turned — it was just… odd. The sensation of having a vampire drink from you is not at all unpleasant, nor is it comfortable, though. It's honestly too hard to explain. It was worth it to get my hands on that knowledge, though.

With another stop at Flourish and Blott's, and a final stop to get a trunk with a concealed compartment for Tamelyn's "highly illegal books", we head back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Mister Potter!" An obnoxious voice rings out. "I'm mighty glad to see you're alright!"

"Minister Fudge." I greet him once I pick him out from the crowd. "What brings you to this area?"

"Why, you do, dear boy! What with Black breaking out of Azkaban and you vanishing from your relatives' house, many of us feared the worst."

Wow, this guy is bad even by the standards of Magical Britain's politicians.

'I know, right?'

"I can handle myself, Minister." I reply cooly.

"Of course you can, of course you can… Still, best not be running about much, eh? Try and stick to the main areas of Diagon, if you can manage. It'd do the public good to see a high-profile character like yourself out and about. Help them understand that the Ministry has the whole situation under control."

Hmmm… So he's a total schmoozer… Let me see if I can…

Tamelyn takes over and grins. "Of course, Minister. We can't have the public in a panic, after all. Though, perhaps if I can get an underage magic exemption, it would help if the worst comes to worst, no?"

'Why are you trying to get an exemption? We already have a traceless wand.'

Yes, but if we have an exemption, we can be seen doing it in public. Removing the trace from an underage wizard's wand is a jailable offense.

'We seem to be doing a lot of "jailable offenses", huh?'

You have no idea.

"Well," the minister mutters, "It would be a tad odd, but not unjustifiable. Yes, I'll give you an exemption until we manage to catch Black, just so you aren't caught flat-footed if he manages to get the drop on you, right?"

"Of course, Minister. Thank you, Minister."

'You'll have to teach me to sweet-talk like that, someday.'

I'm sure you'll pick it up just watching me. We're going to be spending a lot of time together, after all.

A/N: Tamelyn sweet-talking people is really fun to write.