A/N: Minor content warning: this chapter will contain allusions to and mentions of (prevented) sexual assault. It won't be too extreme, but I wanted to issue a heads up regardless.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" Ron's voice cuts through my sleep.

I nearly bolt upright in a panic before my brain catches up with me. I'm not in danger. Ron is just being his usual overexcited self like he is every Christmas. If I was in danger, he would sound more nervous as he tried to wake me up. Unless the perpetrator had placed him under the imperius. But even then, why would they do that instead of just trying to take me out in my sleep? It wouldn't make any sense.

Please stop thinking so hard, Harry. You're making it hard to sleep.

'I don't think Ron will let us sleep.'

One of us will have to get up — I say it should be you. I'll make the noble sacrifice of sleeping now so I can take control later in the day when you start to crash.

'Oh no you don't. If I have to wake up, then so do you.'

Just ignore him and see if he'll leave us alone.

'That won't work.'

It does not work. "Haaaarrry! Wake up!" Ron says, shaking me this time.

"'M tryna sleep, Ron…" I mumble with my face buried in my pillow.

"C'mon, Harry! We have presents to open! Get out of bed!"

I groan and try to cover my ears with my pillow.

It's too early to be waking up.

'Says the person who constantly pulls all-nighters.'

There's a difference between pulling an all-nighter and waking up early. Pulling an all-nighter is just staying up extremely late, which is the exact opposite of waking up early.

I try in vain to ignore Ron's attempts to wake me for a while longer. Eventually, Ron leaves the dorm, presumably in an attempt to find people who will be more receptive to his attempts at waking them. I take advantage of the respite to get in as much rest as I can before he returns.

"C'mon, Harry!" He exclaims as he re-enters the dorm. "I woke you up twenty minutes ago and you're still not out of bed!?"

I hate this. I hate your life. Even your maniac of a quidditch captain isn't up this early. Why do you put up with this?

'It's only one day a year, thankfully.'

It's torture. No one deserves this.

Ron has apparently had enough of my staying in bed, and tips my mattress over to send me rolling onto the floor.

"Fine! I'm up!" I gripe as I try and get my bearings.

Ron grins and leaves the room again.

Now that he's gone, we could just get back in bed.

'And risk him doing something worse when he gets back? No thanks.'

Tam slips into control of my body and calls out. "Elf!"

A house elf pops into the dorm in front of us. "Yessir? What can Nitwit get for you?

She blinks at the house elf's name. I would probably have done much the same if I was in control of my body.

It's too early for this.

"Coffee." She says plainly. The house elf disappears and leaves a mug of coffee with some cubes of sugar and a small pitcher of cream sitting on my nightstand. Tam ignores the fixings and starts drinking the coffee black. I mentally cringe at the taste.

'You enjoy this!?'

Too tired to taste right now.

As she finishes downing the mug of coffee, I slip back into control of my body and begin getting dressed. I also brush my teeth and give my mouth an additional magical cleaning as I attempt to wipe the bitter and sour taste of black coffee from my mouth.

'I am never drinking coffee again. That was awful.'

Sure, you say that now, but come your O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years, you'll need all the help you can get. I certainly wouldn't have been able to manage if I hadn't had coffee available.

'I should hope I'll have more time available given that I won't be spending all of my free moments trying to make myself immortal.'

Perhaps, but you're also on the quidditch team, which is liable to be just as big a timesink, especially since you're liable to end up as captain later on.

'I feel like there's something wrong with the fact that immortality takes around the same time commitment as being on a sports team.'

Immortality isn't actually that hard to pursue — it's just that most people don't think it's worth the cost. If I just wanted biological immortality and didn't care about the associated costs, I could have become a vampire. That said, vampirism only protects against death by aging and has far too many downsides for my taste. I wanted immortality that would let me survive the total destruction of my body, which is much harder to obtain. If not for the fact that soul magic is extremely obscure and taboo, horcruxes moreso than anything else in the field, then I could have spent a lot less time on the process.

My mouth is as clean as I'm going to get it for now, so I head downstairs, trying to ignore the cloying bitter taste that I swear I can still feel lingering on my tongue.

'As far as pick-me-ups go, I think I'll stick with pepper-up potion. It's less disgusting.'

Speak for yourself. I'd rather drink coffee than chug several tablespoons of something that tastes like hot sauce. Why anyone drinks pepper-up for nonmedical reasons is beyond me.

'You just have low spice tolerance.'

I grew up in an impoverished orphanage in the early nineteen-hundreds. The Great Depression started when I was two years old. Spicy food wasn't exactly something I had the time or opportunity to get used to.

'I suppose that's fair. Dudley loved to buy spicy food in spite of his awful spice tolerance, so it was easy for me to eat it without anyone noticing that it was missing.'

Starvation is always a powerful motivator, I suppose.

"C'mon Harry!" Ron shouts as I enter the common room. "Presents!"

His single-mindedness toes the line between endearing and obnoxious, doesn't it?

'I suppose so.'

I move onto one of the sofas as Ron starts to hand out packages to everyone present. No one but him seems to be fully awake — even the twins seem a little bleary-eyed, though they still seem to be faring better than most of us. Hermione looks to be dozing off in her chair now that Ron's distracted.

I hate mornings.

'I've gathered as much.'

It takes everyone a while to work our way through our presents, given that everyone except Ron is at least half asleep. Mrs. Weasley gave me the traditional Weasley family jumper, Hermione got me a Rune Dictionary to help facilitate my self-study of the subject, Ron got me another chess set that I'm sure he'll have halfway demolished in less than a month, Fred and George got me an assortment of items that I'm certain are not allowed in the school, and the rest of the players on the quidditch team got me an assortment of candy.

I'm working my way through a few chocolate frogs when Ron draws my attention.

"Hey, Harry. You've got another package here. There's no sender, though."

I raise an eyebrow. Did Dumbledore remember that he had to return yet another family heirloom? He returned my invisibility cloak in an unmarked Christmas present, after all.

I doubt it. Dumbledore's not likely to try the same method twice. He's surprisingly adaptive, especially given his old age.

'So who do you think it's from, then?'

It could be a trap. Let me check it real quick…

Tam shifts into control of my body and starts casting various detection charms at the long package, much to Ron's confusion. Hermione, Fred, and Geroge look various levels of intrigued and impressed.

Well, it came up negative for curses, poisons, and several other varieties of hostile magic. If the package is rigged, then it's with some sort of prank spell that doesn't fall under any of those categories.

"What was that for?" Ron asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

I shrug as I slip back into control of my body. "Nothing wrong with being careful. You never know who it might be from."

Ron doesn't seem to understand, but drops the issue anyways. Upon seeing him do so, I turn back to the package and begin opening it. Once I peel back the paper and pull away the box, I freeze in shock.

"Harry, is that a…?"

"It's a Firebolt." I say, still in shock. "It's an honest to God Firebolt. Who the hell got me a Firebolt? These things are insanely expensive."

Sorry, what's the big deal about this broom?

'Weren't you paying attention when Ron and I were browsing Quality Quidditch Supplies this summer?"

Of course not. I don't have to pretend to be interested in quidditch anymore, so I just ignored you until you left the store.

'It's a brand-new professional-level broom. It's supposed to be faster and handle better than any other broom on the market. They only had a prototype available at the store, and I couldn't have afforded it even if I drained my vault.'

Great, so what you're telling me is that you'll be able to pull even more reckless stunts when you fly?

'I'm more hung up on the price tag associated with this gift.'

"Was there a note or something with it?" Hermione asks. "I mean, you could afford to buy a house with how much those things cost. A muggle house, at least. I don't know how much a wizarding house costs…"

I root through the box and find a simple parchment note that fell into a corner.

Sorry about your last broom. Try not to break this one.

"I should hope you won't break this one!" Ron says as he reads the note. "I mean, it's a Firebolt! A Firebolt!"

It's not Dumbledore's handwriting.

'I know. I suppose that means it's definitely not from him.'

This is suspicious. I say you have someone check over the broom.

'You're just saying that because you don't like me flying.'

I won't deny that the prospect of you not flying for a while longer is a motivating factor.

I look up to try and ask Hermione her opinion, though she seems to have vanished. She must have gone to the loo or something. I decide to put the issue of the Firebolt out of my mind until I've had some time to think it over and get a second opinion. In the meantime, I begin reviewing the Rune Dictionary that Hermione got me.

'I really wish I didn't let you talk me into taking Divination instead of Runes.'

Well, I certainly find myself entertained by the class. Besides, it's too late for you to do anything about your course selection now.

'It's not too late for me to complain to you about it, though. I don't want to think about all of the cramming I'll have to do when the O.W.L. comes around, given that Trelawney is useless as a teacher.'

I settle back into the Rune Dictionary, trying to memorise the meaning of each rune. I make some decent progress before Hermione comes back into the common room, with McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick in tow. As soon as Hermione sees that the common room is not empty, she hides behind McGonagall.

"I… I thought you all would be at breakfast." She says nervously.

"I think we've all had enough candy that we're fine with putting off a proper breakfast for a while longer. What brings the teachers here?" I ask.

Hermione looks nervous and turns to McGonagall, who answers my question. "Miss Granger came to me and informed me that you received a very expensive anonymous gift and was concerned that it might be cursed."

Looks like I get my wish after all.

'Yeah, yeah.'

"Well, I cast some detection spells on it, so I can assure you that it's not cursed." I reply coolly.

At McGonagall's nod, Snape moves over and takes the Firebolt. "Flitwick, Babbling, and I will be checking this over to ensure that your amateurish attempts at curse detection didn't miss something. You can have this back in a few weeks." He sneers.

I roll my eyes. "Is this really necessary? There was a distinct lack of dark magic present in the broom. While I won't deny that I received it under suspicious circumstances, a few weeks worth of examination seems excessive."

Snape looks like he's about to tell me off when Flitwick steps in to defuse the situation. "I'll take this question, if you don't mind, Severus? You can take the broom to my office and we can take a thorough look at it once I've consulted with Bathsheda at breakfast."

Snape sneers again and leaves the room, McGonagall leaving shortly thereafter. Flitwick turns back to us as they leave.

"Well, why don't we all head down to the Great Hall, then? I can answer Mister Potter's question on the way down."

Everyone starts to gather their things so they can get dressed, which, for most of us, just involves throwing on a robe over our sleepwear. Once we start walking down to the Great Hall, I ask Flitwick my first question.

"So, why is it going to take several weeks to look over the broom? It took me less than a minute to check for potions and hostile magicks."

"Well, the amount of time it will take is mostly because it's an enchanted object. If it was something mundane, then checking it over would simply be a matter of looking for any magical presence, which would be distinctly out of place in a non-magical object. The fact that it's enchanted is also why examining it for curses is insufficient. Curses are only readily detectable because they have a distinct magical signature to them. The Firebolt's natural enchantments could be tampered with in such a way that would evade curse detection while still being able to cause harm. In fact, since it's a device that is made to be flown around at high speeds, even something as simple as slightly damaging one of the internal runic arrays could be life-threatening if it were to give out at a bad time."

"So you're going to have to check all of the enchantments and runic arrays to ensure that they're untampered with?"

"That's correct. The runic arrays will be the easiest part to check, though the enchantments will take a good deal longer. I assure you that we'll do our best to get it done quickly and with as little damage to the broom as possible. I must admit that I'm a bit excited at the prospect. It's so rare that I have a chance to analyse an enchanted object."

"I'm… glad to have been of service professor." I say, unsure of how I'm supposed to reply to that comment.

Once we settle down at the sole table in the Great Hall, I catch Ron shooting glares at Hermione, who winces each time she catches him doing so.

"What's going on between you two?" I ask. "Did Crookshanks try and eat Scabbers again?"

"No!" Ron says venomously. "Though he probably would have, given the chance… But no! She went and told a teacher and got your broom confiscated! Who does something like that!?"

I shrug. "The broom did arrive in suspicious circumstances, you know."

"Exactly!" Hermione jumps in. "And Sirius Black is on the loose! He probably sent it to you to try and get you killed!"

He didn't need to curse the broom to try and get you killed with it. He would have just had to wait until you did one of your dives.

'Shut up.'

"Sirius Black is on the run, Hermione! How would he have bought a Firebolt, anyways? It's not like he could just waltz into Quality Quidditch Supplies and order one from the clerk!" Ron retorts.

"He was able to escape from Azkaban, Ron! No one has been able to do that before! He was able to get into Hogwarts, too! He could have come up with a way to get one that doesn't involve going to a shop!"

"And how would he gave got the money, then!? Sure, the Black family is richer than God and all, but it's not like he could have just waltzed into Gringotts with a price on his head!"

"That's enough!" I yell, cutting off the argument before it can progress further. I turn to Ron. "You have to admit the package arrived in suspicious circumstances. It's probably for the best that the teachers look it over, just to be sure. I'll be fine for a few more weeks without a broom." I turn to Hermione. "And you… yes, the package was suspicious, but seriously, you think Sirius Black was able to get it to me? Ron's right — there's no way he could have gotten the money out of Gringotts with the price he has one he head. Not to mention that I really don't like how you went behind my back to get the teachers. I was actually about to ask your opinion on what I should do about the broom when I noticed that you had suddenly vanished from the common room. If you had just waited a little while longer, then I'm sure that you could have convinced me to get it checked out."

"I kind of expected you and Ron to rush down to try it out as soon as possible. I went to McGonagall right away in the hopes that she would be able to get it while you went down to breakfast." Hermione defends halfheartedly

I hold back a sigh. "Right, well obviously that isn't what happened. Did you think we were going to head straight to the pitch as soon as we ate?"

She nods. "You do have a tendency to rush into situations…"

"And that tendency resulted in me getting my arse handed to me down in the Chamber of Secrets." And isn't that true. "I rushed in without a plan and the heir got away because I didn't know what I was getting into. I'd like to think I can learn from my mistakes."

"Right. Sorry, Harry."

"You're just forgiving her!?" Ron asks, shocked at the turn of events.

"It was suspicious, Ron. Worst case scenario, the Firebolt was dangerous and we saved ourselves a lot of trouble. Best case scenario, it comes up clean and I get a new Firebolt. I'm sure I can go a few more weeks without flying."

Damn right you can.

'I am a perfectly capable flier, Tamelyn.'

If by perfectly capable, you mean completely insane, then yes, you are.

'You should be glad I have a professional broom now. It'll be a much smoother experience, and hopefully a safer one, too."

Only you could try and assure me that we're safe when careening towards the ground.

'So long as I'm in control, we are.'

I look around the room at the odd assortment of students and faculty gathered around the Great Hall. Flitwick is excitedly talking to Babbling, presumably excited about the prospect of disassembling my new broom. Several upper year students are studying, most likely for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Fred and George are teasing Percy. Ginny looks half asleep, though whether that's from Ron's early wake up time or lingering effects of soul damage, I couldn't say. I don't think I've seen Ginny looking fully alert since the morning I first arrived at the Burrow, over a year ago.

"How's Ginny been doing?" I ask as casually as I can manage.

"She's doing alright." Ron says. "She hasn't been sleeping as well since the Chamber incident, but she says she's been feeling better."

I glance back at Ginny, and when she catches my gaze, she perks up and smiles at me, her face shifting into an expression of happiness.

She's faking it.

'I can tell.'

I suppose you would be good at reading faces with relatives like yours.

'Don't remind me.'

The moment Ginny thinks I'm looking away, her face loses the smile and she goes back to looking dead inside.

'I'm tempted to try legilimency on her.'

Feel free to try. Just remember not to try anything more complicated than a surface scan yet. I would really rather not have to pull your mind back out of hers.

I grip my wand in my pocket and quietly mutter the incantation when I next meet her gaze. I feel the probe form and connect our minds, though when I try and graze her emotions, the results are unnerving.

I don't feel anything.

I'm half tempted to try and dig deeper, but I would really rather not risk losing myself in her mind, especially with that… blank emotional state she has. I shiver as I look away, severing the probe.

'What does soul damage do?'

That depends. It tends to limit one's capacity to channel magic, though rarely to a prohibitive extent. It also tends to heavily affect one's emotional state. Why?

'I couldn't feel any emotions in her head.'

Really? You probably just did the probe wrong. Or she has some rudimentary experience in occluding her emotions. Let me try.

'Help yourself.'

I pass control of my body over to her. She catches Ginny's gaze again and stares at her for a few seconds, not bothering with my wand during the process. Once she's done, she looks away and hands control back to me.

'Well?'

…You weren't wrong. She's not feeling anything, at least not anything substantial. She's not occluding herself, either. I was half-tempted to try and dig deeper, but if the rest of her mind is like that, then I'm not convinced that my attempts would go undetected. I can't really say exactly why she's like that, though. Soul damage isn't extensively studied and is known for having unpredictable effects — this might just be how she reacts to soul damage. If I were to take a guess, though, I'd wager it has to do with sustaining soul damage while in a depressive state. She was feeling very morose and alone when I brought her down to the Chamber, and the emotions one feels when sustaining soul damage have a heavy effect on how the damage plays out.

'It's unnerving. Isn't there something we could do to help her?'

No. The best thing we can do for her is to give her a chance to heal. Soul damage heals itself eventually.

'How long will that take?'

A few years, probably. I can't say for certain.

'Great.'

New Year's Eve is always a comparatively subdued affair at Hogwarts, especially given the boisterous celebrations of the other holidays. Between the small number of students that stay over the break and the fact that the actual event always occurs after curfew, New Year's celebrations are limited to small, in-house affairs. Of course, Gryffindor has the Weasley twins available to smuggle in goods, so we probably have the most active parties of them all.

I expect to wake up feeling excited. Instead, I feel almost morose about the affair. Once I finish brushing the cobwebs out of my brain, though, I'm able to identify that the feelings aren't mine.

'Something wrong, Tam?'

Ah, I see you're awake. No, nothing's really wrong. I just prefer to spend my birthdays in solitude, a luxury I doubt I will be able to have in your body.

'I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but you have issues. Seriously, what's wrong with spending some time with people on your birthday?'

I prefer being alone.

'Tam, I don't know if you've noticed, but neither of us have been "alone" for over six months. It's not like we're able to leave each other alone while sharing my body.'

That doesn't count.

'And why, pray tell, is that?'

Because you're not exhausting to be around. I don't feel myself gradually losing patience with you as we interact.

'Really? I wouldn't have guessed that based on our past interactions.'

Oh, shut up. I was paying you a compliment.

'Well… thanks, I guess.'

…You're welcome.

'So, since moping around for most of the day is out of the question, is there anything else you'd like to do?'

Not really. I wouldn't object to leaving the grounds to give you another legilimency lesson, if you're feeling up for it.

'Sure. We just have to make sure we're back by eight so no one notices our absence.'

Curfew isn't until ten.

'Yeah, but the New Year's Eve party starts before curfew.'

You party for four hours?

'More than that, usually. It's not like we go to bed immediately once midnight comes around.'

I have never been happier that I'm not a Gryffindor.

'Well, you're still stuck being around us as long as we share a body.'

Don't remind me.

I grab my winter cloak and my invisibility cloak so I can head for the secret passage as soon as I eat breakfast.

I shiver into the jacket I transfigured from my cloak. London is busy today, busy even by the standards of Fridays. Countless people wander the streets, either preparing for some last-minute travel or to pick up items for their own gatherings.

As such, no one notices me occasionally reaching into my jacket so I can probe their minds.

I twist my wand inside my jacket, catching someone's eyes as we pass each other on the street. He was stressed and excited. Lots of people are feeling that way, actually. The fact that most people seem to be feeling the same way is making the exercise kind of boring. I pull out from his mind and cast a warming charm on myself before withdrawing my hand from my jacket.

'Are you sure we couldn't have done this in an indoor location?'

You need practice. A key part of being a skilled legilimens is being able to use legilimency probes while doing something else. Being able to multitask while doing legilimency makes it far less likely for you to be caught, since no one will see it coming. Walking around the streets is a good starting point for now.

'It's so cold out, though…'

Well, we needed to fit in, and the temperature charms built into the Hogwarts robes and cloak don't work when you transfigure them.

A harsh gust of wind blows through the street, kicking up a small cloud of snow from the recently-ploughed snowbanks. It also cuts through most of my warming charm. I refresh the charm, pumping additional power into it as I do so.

I brush against another person's mind. She's stressed, excited and worried. It's about what I expected.

You've gotten good enough at this that I think you can start on the next step: surface thought reading. It lets you see the actual thoughts a person is having at that moment, rather than just their emotions. It's easier for you to be detected when doing this, as it involves dipping into the outer edges of their mind, rather than just brushing against the surface. It's a lot like what you've been doing so far, though you'll actually have to dive in. Just be careful not to dive too deep. I'd rather not have to rescue you from some hapless muggle's mind.

I roll my eyes.

'God forbid.'

Pushing my way into someone's surface thoughts takes much more energy than just brushing their thoughts, though it also requires less precision. Each mind has a different "viscosity" to it when I try and push past the surface. Some reject my intrusions, requiring additional force to get to their thoughts, while other minds suck me in the moment I dip past their boundary. Every mind requires a different approach, and I have no way of knowing which one to use until I've already pushed past the surface layer. A few times, I feel myself pushed out of some minds by the natural resistance of their thoughts, and other times I barely manage to stop myself from being pulled too deep.

'Why do some minds have so much resistance when I try and read them?'

It's based on the level of focus your target has. It's harder to pierce the thoughts of someone who's focused on a single thought that someone who's in a transient state between thoughts or not focused on any one thing. The subconscious is able to identify your probe as foreign and equates it to a distraction. A mind prone to distractions doesn't resist your probe. One that's receptive to ideas is even able to draw your probe in.

'How is it that muggles' minds are able to resist probes at all? I mean, they don't have magic…'

The real answer is extremely complicated, but to spare you the details, the mind arts are not an exact representation of how the mind works. After all, everyone has their own independent neurology which is what really constitutes their thoughts and memories. The Mind Arts are… an allegory, for lack of a better term. When you perform Mind Arts, you're using magic to translate someone's thought patterns into a comprehensible form that's then reflected in the soul.

'Wait, the mind arts are soul magic?'

In a sense, yes, though the similarities begin and end with the fact that they both involve the soul. I don't feel like giving you a run-down on the nuances of magic categorisation right now. Anyways, the reason that muggles are able to put up a basic resistance to legilimency is because they have souls and are afforded a base level of protection from it. It can't be magically enhanced the way occlumency lets us magicals do, but every living thing with a brain has at least a modicum of mental defence by sheer virtue of having a soul. Do you follow?

'…I think so?'

Close enough. Just keep practising for now. We can head back to Hogwarts after you've gotten in about an hour of practice.

I continue to walk down the streets of London, peering into the minds of the passersby as I do so. A few people still have Christmas songs stuck in their heads, even a week after the holiday in question. An obnoxious number of people have pop songs from the radio stuck in their heads. I clamp down on my occlumency any time that happens, lest I get the song stuck in my head, too.

As I get a feel for other people's thoughts, I notice that Tam's explanation of thoughts holds true. Some people's minds are flitting from one subject to another, almost sucking me in as I try and follow along with their trains of thought. The people who are more focused subconsciously try and push me out as I try and worm my way into their minds. I try to read people's faces and get a feel for their minds before pushing my way so I know what to expect.

Most people are thinking about their day, whether it's what has already happened to them or what they still need to do. A decent number are thinking about how they should have won arguments they had with coworkers or random strangers.

How are you doing?

'Decently, I think. I'm starting to get the hang of this.'

Good. Mind if I tag along on some of your probes? Watching you walk down the street is rather boring, and I'd like to get a feel for what's going on in the muggle world in the half-century I was in a book.

'You know, you could just read the news like a normal person.'

It's delightfully naïve of you to think that the news reports what's actually happening in the world. Trust me, you'll get a better feel for what's going on by looking inside of people's heads.

'Isn't that a violation of privacy?'

Yes. It didn't stop you from reading minds to learn legilimency, though, did it?

'…Fine. Can you even tag along on my legilimency probes, though?'

Only one way to find out. Read some minds, Harry.

I probe the mind of the nearest pedestrian. She has a pop song stuck in her head. I pull out pretty quickly after that. Tam makes her thoughts known pretty quickly after that.

Well, the good news is that I can tag along on your probes. The bad news is that I had to be subjected to that abomination that the muggle wireless tries to pass off as "music".

'Yeah, that's been an annoyingly common result so far. Still feel like tagging along?'

So long as they aren't all like that, then I stand by what I said. It's the best way to learn what's going on in the world.

'If you insist.'

I do.

I probe a few more people before Tam complains again.

I can't believe that the muggle world has gone even further downhill. At least when I was a child, the music was passable.

'While I don't care for it, I think you're being melodramatic.'

I am not being melodramatic!

I roll my eyes.

'Sure you're not.'

The people that don't have pop songs stuck in their heads are mostly focused on their New Year's Eve celebrations, though a few are focused on other plans unrelated to the holiday. One person, though…

I blink and probe his mind again.

Oh hell no.

Tamelyn forces her way into control of my body and turns around so she can follow him.

'Tam, please don't do anything rash.'

Trust me, this is for the best.

'Look, yes, he's been stalking that girl, and yes, it's creepy, but he hasn't hurt anyone yet! Just leave him be and we can head back to Hogwarts!'

You said it yourself. He hasn't hurt anyone yet. I refuse to give him the opportunity.

'How do you even plan on doing anything? We're in the middle of London, and I doubt he'll conveniently move to a location with no witnesses so you can do magic unaccosted.'

You let me worry about that.

She pulls my arm into the sleeve of my jacket so she can wield my wand without it being seen.

"Confundo."

The stalker's eyes were still locked on the girl further down the street, so he didn't notice anything was amiss. The confundus charm takes effect and his course diverts into an abandoned alley. It's only once the charm wears off that he seems to notice something's wrong, by which time Tamelyn has blocked off the entrance to the alley with a notice-me-not charm. It doesn't take him long to realise that he's not alone.

"What the fuck are you doing here, kid?" He says brusquely. "Get lost."

"I'm afraid that's not an option." Tamelyn replies coolly. "I don't take kindly to stalkers."

He seems stunned for a moment before deflecting that accusation. "I don't know what you're talking about, kid. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

"So you weren't stalking her, then? The blonde in the white jacket? You were following her for several streets, keeping a decent distance between you the whole time…"

A brief expression of anger twitches across his face. "Get out of here kid. I don't want to hurt you or anything." He says in a tone that implies he really doesn't care if he hurts me.

Tamelyn just laughs. "Oh, you misunderstand. Only one of us will be leaving here, and it won't be you."

"What are you…?"

Brace yourself. You might find this uncomfortable.

'Wait, what?'

Tam has my wand trained on him before I'm fully aware of what she's about to do. "Avada Kedavra."

Bright, sickly green light illuminates the alley for a brief moment before snuffing out as it hits its target. Powerful waves of euphoria and revulsion flow through my body as the man keels over.

'What the hell!?'

I said you would find it unpleasant. Now come on, we should get out of here before we attract any undue attention. It wouldn't do for us to be caught at the scene of a murder, after all.

Tamelyn apparates us back to the Hogsmeade tunnel before I can protest. The sudden apparition combined with the lingering revulsion from casting the killing curse proves too much for me. I force myself back into control of my body and empty the contents of my stomach on the tunnel floor. After another moment of dry heaving, I pull myself together and silently Scourgify my mouth and the ground. I still have to use this tunnel, and I'd rather it not reek of sick the next time I come through. I take another moment to gather my thoughts before I confront Tamelyn.

'What the hell is wrong with you?'

In general? Many things.

'Don't get cheeky with me. You just murdered someone!'

It wouldn't be the first time. Why do you care now?

'Because you did it in front of me!?'

I killed your aunt in front of you, too, yet you only gave a token protest about that.

'…That was different.'

Different how? The only difference between them is that I used the killing curse this time.

'It's… I don't know…!'

Well, the only other thing I can think of is that you thought your aunt deserved it. You remembered every time she tormented you and realised that she deserved to die.

'Shut up.'

You wanted her dead just as much as I did. You simply weren't willing to dirty your hands by performing the act yourself.

'Shut up!'

Don't lie to yourself, Harry. It doesn't become you. You were glad to see her die.

'Yes! Yes, fine, I hated her beyond belief, and while I was shocked at your willingness to kill her, I was not sad to see her die! Are you happy!?'

…So if you didn't mind when I killed your aunt, why do you care that I killed that creep?

'Because being a creep is not a murder-worthy offence!'

Oh, please. You don't honestly think he would have been content to just watch her, did you? Someday, he would have wanted more and would have taken it without any care about who he hurt in the process.

'I suppose you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?'

I regret thinking it as soon as I finish forming the thought, but the calm rage that I feel ebbing into my consciousness pushes that regret to the side.

…No. No, you do not get to accuse me of that! I am a terrible person in many ways, but there are some lines that even I refuse to cross! There are some crimes that even I can't abide! You do not get to sit on your throne of righteousness and accuse me of whatever crosses your mind! I will gladly own up to the terrible things I have done and will do, but I have been accused of things I didn't do too many times already!

'I-'

Let's see how you like it.

Tamelyn drops her barriers and sucks me into her memory before I have a chance to prepare myself.

I check my bag for the fourth time to make sure the book I got is still there. It was hard earning enough money to buy it, but the prospect of being able to get some practical magic work in over the break is too tempting. Occlumency may be limited in scope, but I'm not about to be picky about what magic I can and can't perform if it means I get to do more than sit in my room and read books about theory that I can't practice.

I pass under another streetlight, the high-pitched hum of the bulb buzzing uncomfortably in my ear. It makes me miss the magical fires that burn in the torches of Hogwarts. They feel so much more natural than the obnoxious electric lights that commandeer the muggle world.

I stare up at the night sky, feeling the same dismay I've felt every night since I was forced to return back to muggle London. The sky looks so… bland here. All of the electric lights drown out the stars.

I shake my head and continue walking. It's only eight more weeks until I can go back. Going back to Diagon Alley today helped to reassure me that it wasn't all a dream and that there really is a wondrous world away from the filthy muggle cities.

Not long after I turn off of Charing Cross Road, I get a vague sense of a presence behind me. I look over my shoulder and see a man following me a street back. I've seen him around a few times recently as I go to and from the small jobs I've taken on around town lately, though this is the first time I've been out after dark. I scowl over my shoulder and start walking faster. It's fairly warm out for London weather, but the temperature is already starting to drop, and I'd rather not still be out when it gets too cold.

I do my best to put the man following behind me out of my mind.

I regret doing that as soon as I feel someone grab me from behind, covering my mouth so I can't scream out. I thrash against his grip, doing my best to hit him in his crotch, an area I've learned most boys find very sensitive. Unfortunately, my haphazard flailing fails to get me any results.

I feel myself being dragged into a side alley away from the lit streets and feel panic rising inside me. No, this isn't supposed to happen! I have magic! A muggle shouldn't be any threat to me at all!

I can't use my wand outside of school, but I never got in trouble for using magic without a wand before I started Hogwarts. I pull on every ounce of focus I can muster and force as much magic out of my body as I can manage. The resulting shockwave pushes me out of his grasp, though it also sends me falling to the ground. I try to push myself up, though the bruises the impact of falling caused to my already sore legs are making it hard. I at least manage to turn around and get a look at my attacker, revealing that he is indeed the same man who's been following me around lately.

Much to my dismay, he's not as heavily affected by the shockwave as I was, and he looks very angry.

In a fit of panic, I glare at him and do the only thing I can think of.

I dive into his mind.

I don't have a plan when I dive into his mind. The first memory I find is him following me a week ago when I got back from Hogwarts. I grab that memory by its fabric and tear it apart, the shreds disappearing into the depths of his mind. The next memory is him following me yesterday. I grab that one and shred it too. I shred the memory of what he planned to do to me as soon as it comes up. I feel my physical body shudder as the tatters of that memory fade. I keep pushing my way through his memories, tearing my way through his mind like a knife through a wet paper bag. I withdraw from his mind when no new memory comes up to replace the one I just destroyed. My awareness snaps back to my own body, a piercing pain flowing through my head as I do so.

I slowly push myself upwards, doing my best to ignore the powerful aches spreading throughout my body. I try to call on my magic to heal my bruises the same way I've done in the past, though I don't get anything more than an ache deep inside my being when I try and do so.

Is it possible to run out of magic? When I used magic to free myself from his grip, I didn't really have any goal beyond "use as much magic as possible", and I doubt that tearing through that… muggle's mind was an efficient process. Did I manage to use up all the magic I had available? I make a note to look that up the next time I go to Diagon Alley.

I stare down at the unresponsive body of my would-be attacker. He's breathing, and his eyes are moving, though he doesn't seem to be aware of what's happening around him. I feel my lip curl in disgust at the pitiful sight. Serves him right.

I gather my things and continue walking back to the orphanage. My hands keep shaking despite my best attempts to steady them. It wasn't that much further to the orphanage, but the walk felt like it took forever. I try and ignore the awful cloying feeling. I'm still in public and can't afford to show weakness.

"Tamelyn!" A voice interrupts me as I walk into the foyer. "What in the blazes were you doing out this late!"

"Acquiring additional study materials for my schooling." I reply without meeting her gaze.

"It's not safe for young girls to be out on their own this late, Tamelyn. I expect better judgement from you in the future."

"I can take care of myself…" I mutter as I head for my room. I can take care of myself. I just proved I could.

I close the door to my room and put the occlumency book under the loose board in the bottom of my wardrobe where I used to keep all of the trinkets I stole. Damn Dumbledore. The other orphans have already been giving me more trouble than they have in the past.

With the book safely stored and the remainder of my things stored away for later, I collapse into bed and pull myself under the covers. Only now that I am safe inside my own room do I allow the panic to sink in.

My breathing quickly becomes more rapid. Someone tried to… oh gods, I don't even want to think about what he wanted to do to me. And then I… What did I do to him? I basically killed him, didn't I? Sure, he's still breathing and all that, but I basically destroyed everything that made him who he is. It doesn't matter if his body's still alive — he's dead and I killed him.

I take deep breaths and try to calm myself. He didn't matter. He was just a muggle, and a terrible one at that. The world won't miss someone like him.

Focusing on that for a while calms me to the point where I feel calm enough to move past it. Now there's only one thing left bothering me — the ease with which I tore his mind apart. Sure, he was just a muggle with no mental defences to speak of, but I'm only twelve and I destroyed the entire essence of his being.

What would happen if an older and more experienced wizard tried to do something like that to me?

My eyes veer back towards my wardrobe. Occlumency is supposed to help one guard their mind, in addition to the other benefits it offers, but… well, nothing's perfect.

I wonder if it's possible to use magic to make copies of memories to store for later? That could be worth looking into.

With that thought going through my head, I finally drift off to sleep, hoping in vain that I won't have nightmares.

I come back to awareness in my own body to find it walking down the secret passage outside of my volition.

'Um…'

Not now. I'm not in the mood.

'Sorry.'

I must have been in that memory for around ten minutes, as it doesn't take long for us to reach the end of the passage. Tamelyn pulls us out and begins walking towards the seventh floor. I watch silently as she opens the Room of Requirement, revealing a large array of dummies and obstacles. She pulls out my wand and gets to work demolishing everything in the room, failing to slow down at any point. After half a minute, the dummies seem to activate, moving around the room and firing back at her. Much to my surprise, she doesn't shield any of the incoming spells, instead choosing to rely on dodging. This goes on for around ten minutes as she fires all manner of explosive curses at the dummies and the cover they hide behind. Some curses are ones I'm familiar with, like the reductor, while others I've never heard of before. Some are obviously dark curses, if the periodic euphoric rushes I feel are any indicator. Eventually, only one dummy is left standing, and only then does she change her pattern.

"Avada Kedavra!" She snarls, the bright, sickly light colliding with the dummy. Despite the fact that the dummy isn't alive, the curse shatters it to splinters, destroying it far more thoroughly than the actual demolition curses she was flinging around moments ago. I try and hold my mind stable against the revulsion I feel from my body casting that curse, even as it fights against the extreme euphoria of using such dark magic. Tamelyn seems to have had enough after that and she sits down, the room summoning a chair below us as she does so.

Now we can talk. I assume you have questions.

'To start with, why does the killing curse feel that awful?'

She seems surprised that that was my first question, though her surprise doesn't last long.

It's… an unnatural spell. On an instinctive level, we recognise it as such and feel a level of disgust from casting it. That disgust can be overcome, as despite the high cost of the spell, it's very thorough at what it does.

'How is it "unnatural"?'

It's… ugh, hang on. I'm going to meditate so we can have this conversation face-to-face.

Sensing her intention, the rubble fades from the room and the lighting dims. After far longer than I've become used to, we're both pulled into my mindspace. I collapse on the floor when I first arrive, as per usual. Tamelyn is standing, though she looks far more dishevelled than usual. Her robes are wrinkled and skewed and several strands of her hair are out of place, a harsh contrast with the usual immaculate appearance she maintains in our mind. I try to suppress the blush I feel rising in my cheeks as I take in her appearance, though I have no way of knowing if I'm succeeding. If I'm not, then Tamelyn gives no indication, and simply begins her explanation.

"The killing curse, much like the Mind Arts, is based in soul magic. There are a lot of principles of soul magic, but a very important one is that the soul is immutable to external forces. So, it's possible to split one's own soul, but not to split the soul of another."

I raise an eyebrow. "Then how were you able to damage Ginny's soul at the end of last year?"

"I was confused about that for a while, too." She says exasperatedly. "I did find the answer eventually. Souls that are in direct contact, through means such as through possession, are no longer considered an 'external force', and therefore able to affect the other soul. That's why I was able to subsume her soul in the first place."

"Hold on." I say, interrupting her. "You were able to — what was the word you used, subsume? — subsume her soul, even though you didn't know it was possible to do so?"

She's silent for a bit, staring off into the distance. "I'm not sure how I knew what to do, actually. It was instinctive, though I'm not sure I can recall how to do it now. It would be one thing if I was trying to possess her, but using her death to fuel the creation of a body reminiscent of my own at the time I created the horcrux… I couldn't even begin to imagine how such a process would work. If I were to guess, it's an instinctive ability enabled by being bound to a horcrux. As the first sapient horcrux, I would be the first one who was ever able to use that ability to any significant effect."

I… can't even imagine how bizarre that would be. Then again, I also can't imagine how bizarre it must have been to be shoved into a book for half a century. It's bizarre enough not being in control of my own body.

"So, anyways… What were we talking about again?" She looks pensive for a moment. "Horcruxes… soul magic… oh, right, the killing curse! The killing curse works by severing the soul from the body, which would normally be impossible, but it uses… well, I guess I loophole would be the best term. The soul itself is immutable to external influences, but the bindings that connect the soul to the body are not immutable to external influences. The killing curse works by severing these bindings without affecting the soul itself, instantly killing the target."

"I… don't quite get why that makes the killing curse feel so gross to cast."

Tam sighs. "It's a paradox. It kills the target without harming their body. It affects the soul without affecting the soul. I've seen the arithmancy that describes the killing curse and it doesn't make sense. It's something that shouldn't be possible, yet clearly is. It cannot be shielded or countered because it isn't supposed to exist. It feels disgusting because to cast that spell is to channel the impossibility of instant, unavoidable death through the very core of your being."

I blink a few times. "Aren't there… I don't know, ramifications to casting a spell like that?"

She shrugs. "Not that I know of. Nothing outside the usual effects of dark magic, anyways."

"You don't know everything, Tam!" I groan.

She smirks at me. "No, I don't, but I am very knowledgeable nonetheless." Her expression sobers before she continues. "It's possible that there are effects to its use, though they'd be hard to track given how many people lose themselves to the use of dark magic in the first place."

"Great!" I yell sarcastically. "So it's not just addictive, but it twists your mind, too! Thanks for exposing me to all this crap!"

She laughs at me, clearly finding something about the situation funny. "You're fine, Harry. Dark magic's 'side effects' are just a result of people losing themselves to the addiction. Dark magic is a means to an end, not an end in its own right. So long as you don't start using it to torture people for stress relief, you'll be fine."

"I'd rather not torture people at all, thank you very much." I say with a grimace.

"You don't always have a choice. Torture is very good for getting information out of people. Extreme torture is even able to break down occlumency barriers, making it possible to pick the minds of even the best occlumens."

"I think I'll let you handle any torture, if it's all the same to you." I reply tersely.

Tam shrugs at me. "Suit yourself." She lets out a sigh. "Any other questions before we get back to your life? Much as I enjoy the Room of Requirement, we can't stay here forever."

I think back on the experience earlier in the alley. Between seeing Tam's memory and letting the revulsion of casting the killing curse fade, I no longer feel indignant about his murder. Instead, it just feels… wasteful. Something that I'm not bothered by (even though I probably should be), but that felt unnecessary.

"…Did you have to kill him?" I ask after a while.

"…No. No, I didn't, but killing him was a very direct solution to the problem." She replies, all levity gone from her tone. "In theory, I could have imperiused him or layered a large number of compulsion charms on him to curb any potentially objectionable behaviours. Both of those would have been imperfect solutions, however. The imperius curse would have taken continual focus on my part to maintain, and the compulsions would wear off after a while. This nipped any problems he would have created in the bud."

"Are several prevented rapes really worth a murder?"

Tam stares at me for a moment. "I know that the weight of crimes is relative, and no one can really agree on what crimes are worth performing to prevent others, but I consider rape to be the worst crime of all. I would gladly kill to prevent it from happening."

I don't point out the hypocrisy of her considering rape worse than murder when she was so scared of being killed that she split her soul to prevent it from happening. I have no desire to start another argument now. Then again, Tamelyn is a person who hates weakness, and above all else, hates feeling weak or powerless. I suppose I could understand why she would consider a crime that makes her feel powerless worse than one that does not.

Is she really afraid of dying, or is she just afraid of being powerless before death? While I doubt I'll ever get her to admit it, she is a bit of a control freak, in her own way. She's not obsessed with having power, per se, but she is obsessed with making sure no one has power over her.

I take a good look at her. Tam is leaning against a nonexistent wall, the same as always. Her clothes are just as disarrayed as they were when we first arrived here, and several strands of her hair are still out of place. Her gaze is fixated on a point away from me, in her usual manner of avoiding eye contact whenever it isn't necessary.

I look at her, and for the first time, I think I can understand how someone could become Voldemort. How something as simple as fear and a desire for control in the hands of one with a large amount of power could allow one to bring a nation to its knees.

For the first time, I look at Tamelyn Merope Riddle, and really understand how she was able to become Voldemort.

Ironically, this doesn't make me see Tamelyn as being more monstrous, but rather, it helps me see Voldemort as more human. I don't see Tamelyn as being Voldemort in the making, but I instead see Voldemort as being an older version of Tamelyn, twisted by her own fears into something almost unrecognisable, yet distinctly similar.

It's a strange thought.

And one that I am unlikely to ever share.

So I ask the only other question I can think of.

"What… What did you do to that guy who tried to attack you…?"

She tenses almost invisibly at the mention of the incident. "I obliviated him of all of his memories." She says, her tone less level than normal.

"But… you used legilimency?" I ask, wondering how that would even be possible.

"It's possible to use legilimency to wipe memories. Most professional mind arts practitioners actually use legilimency in tandem with obliviation to perform more precise and thorough memory alterations. Using legilimency on its own, though… Well, it's like performing surgery with a hacksaw. It will get the job done, but it's messy and causes a lot of unnecessary damage."

I only half pay attention to her answer. My thoughts are still elsewhere, thinking over my recent epiphany.

"Alright, then." I reply. "Let's head back."

My awareness moves back to my body in the Room of Requirement, and this time, I'm in control of my body. I stand up and leave the room, heading down towards the Great Hall so I can get some much-needed food.

I've given myself enough food for thought to last for weeks.

And I won't have much time at all to focus on it, since classes start tomorrow.

Yay.

I move into the Gryffindor common room, and see that everyone is already prepared for the upcoming celebration. Fred and George are keeping the noise level high enough that I'm able to slip in unnoticed. I sit down next to Hermione, who's clearly engrossed in a book despite the number of distractions in the room.

"Did you have a nice New Year's Eve?" I ask her.

She glances up. "I couldn't say. The day's not over yet, you know. What did you do?"

"Spell practice, mostly."

Seeing that Hermione is being her usual wet blanket self whenever the Weasley the house has a party, I move over to Ron, who is currently… well, I think he's trying to dance, though it looks more like he's just flailing about senselessly. I decide to leave him to… whatever it is that he's doing.

Percy, much like Hermione, is being a party pooper, standing snobbishly in the corner of the room. Unlike Hermione, he's being extra stuffy about it and looking about the room with a sense of disapproval.

Fred and George are busy spiking each other's drinks and pretending not to notice. I briefly wonder how they were able to get alcohol before deciding that if it's anything like coffee — the other "adult drink" — then I'm not interested in getting any.

Unlike previous years, only a small number of people stayed behind at the castle over the break. No one wants to be around the dementors unless absolutely necessary, which means that the only people actually staying in the school are those who aren't wanted by their families (me, and most likely a Hufflepuff a few years above me), fifth and seventh years who can't obtain the study materials needed to study for their exams (most muggleborns, and those from impoverished wizarding families), the Weasleys (for well-known financial reasons), and Hermione (who stayed behind for solidarity's sake). So, despite the twins' best efforts, the party is a subdued affair by previous years' standards.

When midnight finally rolls around, I feel content with how things are. Sure, I'm sharing my body with a less-than-stable psychopath, but I also feel like I'm finally learning to take control of my life.

'Here's to a new year.'

May it be better than the last one.

'As low a bar as that is.'

A/N: At some point I will run out of exposition to add to this story. This is not that point.

Ron and Hermione arguing was the easiest part of this chapter to write. Ron was honestly delightful to write in this whole chapter. I do like Ron and wish more fics did him justice.

I'm honestly not fond of the use of sexual assault as a plot device. Even the use of prevented sexual assault in this chapter left a bad taste in my mouth, and I don't think I handled it as well as I could have. That said, I wanted to have some sort of scene where Tamelyn completely obliterates the mind of a muggle in an act of self-defence. It not only serves as a motivating factor behind the creation of the diary (a complete backup of her main personality in case something goes wrong), but it also works as a point where she began to dehumanise muggles in an attempt to assuage her guilt about her actions.

Tamelyn is a very interesting character to write because she is a very flawed person who likes to think of herself as being as close to perfection as possible. She's motivated far more by her emotions than she lets herself believe. Up until this point, she's mostly had the upper hand on Harry by sheer virtue of experience, but Harry is gradually starting to learn how her mind works.