He woke again when the sun had just began to rise and shower down into the tower's windows. Hermione would be pleased to see him awake before noon, but he knew she'd have questions, and that she was smart enough to figure out he wasn't suffering from his usual insomnia. He just had no idea how to break it to her.

Honestly, it wasn't every day part of Voldemort's soul decided to come over for a nice chat.

He sighed and made his way out of bed, careful not to wake the rest of the dorm, who'd likely only just got to bed after a night of nonstop partying. Thank Merlin for silencing charms.

The Common Room was quiet and mostly empty, with the exception of a few snoring stragglers from the night before. Hermione was there, as usual, looking engrossed in an old book. She was chewing on the end of her quill, tapping it away every so often, unknowingly letting ink blots splash against the bridge of her nose. Nothing new, then.

"Morning," Harry whispered, trying to be respectful of the hangovers the other students would almost definitely be nursing.

Hermione's rapt attention shifted from the book and onto Harry's face. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in his wrecked appearance.

"Merlin, Harry, you look awful!"

"Oh, thanks, 'Mione," he replied dryly.

"You know what I meant," Hermione said, sighing. "Bad dreams again?"

"Something like that." Harry chewed his lip. "Listen, there's something I've got to tell you and Ron. Uh, when he wakes up."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. I've just figured out some things, is all. Thought I might run them by you, if that's all right?"

At this, Hermione's eyes narrowed even further. After all, since when had Harry Potter ever been the one to make the plans? "Of course, Harry," she said, deceptively light. She was suspicious, just as he knew she would be. It only took a second or two before she shook it off, though, and with a smile, she added, "You know, it might be a while before Ron wakes up."

Harry snorted, and soon tried to quiet himself when a stray student or two stirred in their sleep. "I know. I can wait, you know. Completely capable of it."

"Oh, definitely." Hermione waved him over. "Why don't you help me do some research while we wait, then?"

Harry settled next to her on the (only slightly obnoxiously) cherry red sofa, all grumbling and complaining. "You're going to work me to death, 'Mione, and then where will you be?"

"It's hardly difficult, Harry. I'm sure you've had enough practice at reading by now."

Hiding his grin behind the book she'd handed to him, he set to work.

Sure enough, Ron made his way sleepily down to the Common Room, now pleasantly empty, a few hours later. When he caught sight of the mess of books and notes Harry and Hermione had made, he shot them his best confused stare.

"Merlin! I don't know how you two can get up so early, honestly." Ron attempted to stifle a yawn and failed miserably. "It's hard enough to get up now!"

"Harry's been very helpful," Hermione added. "You could be too, if you got up, Ronald."

"As if! I'm useless at that sort of thing, 'Mione."

"That's not true!" Harry and Hermione chorused, then gave each other approving glances.

"You're good at planning," Hermione offered. Ron raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Very good. As good as I am, even."

"As good as 'Mione, Ron. How can you ever be prepared for such greatness? Plus, you can read faster than I can, as well, which saves time, and requires less effort on my part," Harry promised, scooting over on the sofa, freeing a space for Ron to come and sit down. "I get to not read, and you get to be faster than the Chosen One! The Boy Who Lived!" A dry snort. "Anyway, listen, there's something I've got to tell you two. It's important."

"Is it something we're going to want to hear, mate?" Ron asked. "'Cause it doesn't sound like it is."

"Well, uh, not really." Harry scratched at the back of his neck. "But it's not too terrible, either, so that's something, given my track record."

Hermione frowned. "Given your track record, Harry, slightly less terrible than usual is still really quite bad."

Well, that was true. He gave a hollow chuckle. "Yeah, okay, when you put it that way. It's not great. Pretty shite, actually. We might die."

Ron and Hermione offered him encouraging looks. "As always," Hermione said, dismissive. There was a pause as Harry fiddled with the edge of his robes. Where could he start?

"I had a dream last night," he began, hesitant. "About Voldemort, but different. Not the usual. It was like in Second Year, when I went down to the Chamber of Secrets with the diary, where he wasn't quite real, you know? Not fully there."

Hermione nodded, but Harry could see the rising concern in her eyes.

"He said he was a Horcrux. And you know how the soul has to have a vessel? Yeah, well, apparently that's me. Harry Potter, Voldemort's Glorified Gringotts Vault. You know how to make a denial potion, 'Mione, or maybe a dream-eraser?"

Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Harry. How is that anything but terrible?"

"He said he wanted to help."

Ron scoffed, face contorting into a sneer to rival Malfoy's. "And you're about to believe that? It's insane, Harry, that's what it is. Like everything else surrounding You-Know-Who."

"He had my eyes," Harry said, and the two stopped dead. A look of understanding passed about them. "I think he's really part of me, you know?" He smiled, half-broken. "Hey, he might even be a little bit attached."

"You really think this is a good idea, Harry?" asked Hermione. She clearly didn't.

"Merlin, no. Hell, it's probably the worst idea I've had, but what choice do I have, 'Mione? Really, there's an actual part of Voldemort's soul inside me. I can't exactly lie to him."

"No, you can't," someone said, and Harry whipped around to face the ghostly apparition of one Tom Riddle. No, no, this couldn't be possible.

He felt dizzy again. "I think we need to get you a bell." His voice cracked. Ron and Hermione went pale as a sheet.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Riddle said. "I believe Harry went over this earlier."

He was met by silence. "Come, now," Riddle continued. "You look like you've seen a ghost, both of you."

"Except I actually like the ghosts here, mate," Ron finally managed, voice wobbling. Then, he turned to Harry, looking distinctly unwell. "You didn't think to warn us he could do that, really?"

"Sorry." Harry put on his best apologetic smile. "I sort of had other things on my mind. And no idea. Voldemort isn't really the type to give warning. Shouldn't we have figured that out by now?"

"One of the many things to escape your notice over the years, Harry," Riddle added. "Now, if we could please get down to business."

"Aren't you supposed to be nice to your hosts, Tom?" Harry quipped. Joking even though he felt he was about to be sick. Was this the bravery Gryffindor was famed for? Because it wasn't all that great. Or helpful.

"I'm under no obligation to be polite here. I promised no false pretences, remember?"

Harry replied with an exaggerated eyeroll Riddle couldn't have missed if he tried. He wondered if his head might soon roll along with them. "Politeness isn't a false pretence!"

Riddle huffed. "With me it is."

He threw up his hands, and gave up on tip-toeing. He'd never been the graceful type. "If politeness is too much to ask, how do I know you won't resort to, I don't know, murder?"

"Murder wouldn't help this along in the slightest. And, yes, I do intend to be helpful, Harry."

"Do you?" Hermione piped up. Harry pitied Riddle for being on the receiving end of that particular scrutinising stare.

"Of course." Riddle smiled, like the perfect gentleman. It looked wrong on his face, and Harry wondered if he was out of practice, or if all of 1940's Hogwarts had been filled with the same people who clung so tightly to denial now.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "Why agree to help us now?"

"I have my reasons."

"You said you wouldn't lie," Harry snapped. "If you can tell me, you can tell Ron and Hermione."

Riddle pursed his lips, looking faintly regretful. "Very well. I'm helping you because my counterpart is, to be quite frank, rather out of control. Of course, I'm no saint," at this, Harry snorted, and Riddle's left eye, untouched by Harry's colouring, twitched violently, "but I always keep myself in check." Harry snorted again. "For the most part. If I consider you deserving."

Ron grinned, his unhelpful Gryffindor courage swiftly returned. "So, what you're saying is, you're too mad for your own taste?"

"I will come to regret this, won't I?" Riddle said, more to himself. "Yes, that is what I'm saying, Weasley, thank you. I marvel at your unrivaled powers of comprehension."

"Smartarse little-! Did he learn that from you?"

"Undoubtedly," Harry chirped. "I'm a bit proud."

"Naturally," said Riddle. His voice was harsh, deadpan. "Lord Voldemort has a sense of humour. Perhaps he is not so very inhuman after all."

"One seventh of him isn't," Harry said.

Riddle sighed, pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Well, it's a start." He looked far too put upon for someone who had started the whole bloody thing.

"You're not what I expected," said Hermione, cautious.

"I was created unexpectedly. It's only fitting."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How could your past self not have known? I mean, didn't you plan this from the start?"

"I did intend to make more Horcruxes, yes," Riddle allowed. "Though, I was unaware you could utilise a living vessel. I assume I took full advantage of this fact after finding out."

"If your snake is what I think she is, then, yeah. Full advantage." Harry shuddered. "She gives even me the willies, and this is coming from a snake person."

"A snake? A good choice." Riddle smiled. "Loyal only to me. Yes, there's an idea from my counterpart I can wholeheartedly approve of."

Harry deftly chose to ignore the comment. "If a Horcrux is unintentional, does that change it somehow?"

"Only in that I was not put away for safekeeping like the others. I've had no outside influence to speak of, save for your own, Harry. Aside from my counterpart's memories at the time of your birth, my knowledge is as limited as your own. As such, it has only grown as yours has grown."

"So, that's why you're a snarky git," Ron said snidely. "You grew up with one."

Riddle side-eyed him. "In a manner of speaking."

"That's not something I ever thought I'd hear," Harry said.

"What happens if he finds out?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Ron blinked at the non-sequitur. "You mean You-Know-Who?"

"My name is hardly that difficult to pronounce," Riddle remarked wryly. Harry glared at him. It was a touchy subject he'd spent many a night arguing over with Ron, and he didn't particularly care to go over it again.

"What happens if Voldemort finds out Harry's his Horcrux?" Hermione quickly clarified, interrupting a scowling Ron. Merlin's bollocks, she was a lifesaver.

Riddle considered this. "Doubtlessly, I'd put him under my protection."

Ron laughed in disbelief. "What, just like that?"

"I could under no circumstances afford the risk. I would consider my hatred for Harry irrelevant if I knew he contained part of my soul."

The trio shared similar doubtful looks.

"My obsession with Harry would likely take other forms," Riddle continued. "From bloodlust to guardianship, if you will."

"Hell, that's odd to think about." Harry screwed up his face. He couldn't picture Voldemort, with or without his snakelike form, ever caring for anyone except himself. "Overprotective Voldemort? Am I drunk or just completely mad?"

"How do you think Dumbledore's hand was cursed? I have gone to great lengths to protect my own soul, Harry. As you have seen first-hand."

"Damn," said Harry succinctly.

Riddle ran a tired hand through his hair, an unconscious gesture too human to be comfortable. "Yes, quite. We'll have great fun reacquiring them, I'm sure."

"But it's not impossible?" Harry asked, voice softening and spiritless. The Triwizard Tournament was frankly less daunting.

"Harry, I split my soul seven times. I consider nothing impossible."

And look at where that got you, for Merlin's sake! Harry thought, hoping Riddle wouldn't hear, and hoping he would.

"First thing's first," Hermione said. "You'll need to tell us everything you know about Voldemort's Horcruxes. Do you think you can do that?"

"Of course." Riddle crossed his arms, tight and defensive. "I expect you won't destroy them."

"You have our word," Hermione promised.

"We'll need to go after them slowly, one-by-one, and with as much care as possible. I doubt even I could reason with my other self if he were to find out." Riddle reached for his ring finger, only to find nothing. Discomfited, he slipped his hands back into his pockets. "Harry and I are guaranteed protection, but you two are... expendable. I'm aware this may sound insensitive, but I promised no false pretences."

Hermione nodded. "We're not going to abandon Harry now."

"Not ever," said Ron.

"Look, I wouldn't blame you if you did." Harry smiled wanly. "In fact, it's probably the smarter option, if I'm honest."

"How very Slytherin," Riddle said. "The Hat really wasn't wrong, was it?"

Harry flipped him off. Riddle only raised an eyebrow.

"Self-preservation isn't for us, I suppose," Hermione sighed.

"This is the most unpleasantly Gryffindor thing I've ever done."

Ron shrugged. "Blame You-Know-Who."

Harry felt himself smirk. "Yeah, Tom. You only have yourself to blame."

"As I mentioned, no pretences. So it's with the utmost honesty that I say, Potter, sometimes I really do wish I could kill you."

"What a shame."

Author's Note: BEHOLD! I RETURN! With character gushing instead of bashing. I accidentally. Did that. Uh. Never fear! I totally explained away my legitimate need for sarcastic Voldemort with an in-canon reason. That I didn't do accidentally. That I did on purpose.

Ohgod. As with everything I write, seriousness comes and goes. But it's always there! Waiting... sOON. Surprise angst is basically J.K.'s jam, so.

And action, too! This is going a bit slow, I'm sorry. I ramble. Over basically everything.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. Please enjoy. xx

(Small extra note: Lord Voldysnort isn't exactly the Lord King of Trusting People, but this small fragment of him has been saddled with Harry's ridiculously genuine, goofy, heroic ass for sixteen years. I also have a mighty need for reluctant friendship between not-enemies-kind-of-sort-of.)