Authors Notes

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Revelations

Harry burst into the castle, his broomstick clutched tightly in his arm, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His mind raced, but it was not the thrill of what he had overheard that consumed him—it was Tom's silence. Tom was never silent. The disquiet in Harry's thoughts was like a shadow creeping at the edge of his consciousness, gnawing at him as he hurried through the corridors.

Just as he turned a corner, he nearly collided with Daphne, Hermione, and Ron, who were waiting near the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and frustration. "Where have you been? We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Yeah," Ron chimed in, his brows furrowed. "You disappeared right after the match. What's going on?"

Daphne folded her arms, her icy gaze locking on Harry. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Care to explain?"

Harry glanced around the empty corridor, ensuring they weren't overheard. "Not here," he whispered urgently. "I'll tell you everything, but not here. Let's go to the Room of Requirement."

Without waiting for their reply, he led the way, his steps quick and purposeful. The others followed, exchanging curious glances but asking no further questions.

When they reached the seventh floor, Harry paced back and forth three times, concentrating hard.We need a safe space to talk, somewhere no one can find us.The door appeared, and they hurried inside.

The room was cozy and private, with plush armchairs arranged around a low table and a faint golden light illuminating the space. Once the door closed behind them, Harry turned to face his friends, his expression grave.

"I followed Snape," he began, setting his broom against the wall. His voice was low but steady, the urgency in his tone silencing any immediate questions. "After the match, I saw him heading into the Forbidden Forest. I used a Disillusionment Charm and tailed him on my broom. He didn't see me."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "YoufollowedSnape? Alone? Are you mad?"

"Probably," Harry admitted, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "But listen. I saw him talking to Quirrell. He was threatening him, demanding to know how to get past Fluffy."

"Fluffy?" Ron repeated, his confusion evident.

"The three-headed dog guarding the trapdoor," Hermione reminded him impatiently. "It's guarding the stone."

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Snape was trying to get Quirrell to tell him how to get past it. Quirrell said he didn't know, but Snape warned him not to make an enemy of him."

Ron's face darkened. "IknewSnape was after the stone! He's been dodgy since day one."

"What would Snape want with the stone?" Daphne asked, her tone skeptical. "He's already the Potions Master. What could he gain?"

"Immortality," Hermione answered softly, her eyes flicking to Harry. "The stone can make the Elixir of Life. If Snape wants it, that's the most likely reason."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Harry. He, however, remained unusually quiet, his brow furrowed as he mulled over Tom's earlier reaction. It wasn't like Tom to retreat. Whatever he had sensed in the forest, it had unsettled him deeply.

"We must prevent Snape from getting the stone, Harry,"Tom's voice finally echoed in his mind, sharp and resolute."No matter the cost. He must not have it."

The conviction in Tom's tone sent a chill down Harry's spine, but it also steeled his resolve. He met his friends' expectant gazes and said firmly, "We have to beat Snape to the stone."

"Wait, what?" Ron blurted, looking alarmed. "You're sayingwe'regoing after it?"

"Yes," Harry said. "We can't let him get to it."

Tom's voice came again, this time colder, more calculating."To succeed, we'll need to know everything about Fluffy and how to get past it. Use Legilimency on Hagrid. If he doesn't tell us willingly, we'll just take the information."

"No," Harry whispered aloud before he could stop himself. The others looked at him curiously, but he quickly covered, shaking his head. "I mean, we'll talk to Hagrid. That's all."

"You're being foolish,"Tom hissed, his voice dripping with disdain."But fine. Use Legilimency discreetly. We'll get what we need."

Harry ignored him and turned back to his friends. "We'll visit Hagrid tomorrow. Maybe he can tell us something useful."

The others nodded in agreement, and the plan was set. They left the Room of Requirement and headed to their respective dormitories, but Harry's mind was far from restful.

In the weeks that followed, Harry delved deeper into Legilimency under Tom's guidance. At first, he was hesitant to practice on his fellow students, but Tom's rationale was unrelenting.

"Knowledge is power, Harry. If you know what others are thinking, you have the advantage. And power, above all, is what you need to protect yourself and your friends."

Slowly, Harry's reservations melted away. He practiced during quiet moments, locking eyes with unsuspecting Slytherins and peering into the surface of their thoughts. At first, it was like sifting through fog, but with Tom's coaching, he grew sharper, more precise. The initial discomfort gave way to a strange sense of control—an understanding of the hidden currents beneath people's words and actions.

Meanwhile, Quirrell seemed to be resisting Snape's pressure, and no further attempts had been made on the stone. Hermione and Daphne threw themselves into their studies, often discussing obscure magical theory, while Ron grumbled about being dragged into study sessions.

"Exams aremonthsaway," Ron complained one afternoon, his head resting on his Charms textbook.

"It never hurts to be prepared," Harry said firmly, his green eyes meeting Ron's. Ron sat up a little straighter, as if sensing something unspoken in Harry's gaze.

By now, Harry was no longer the hesitant boy he had been just weeks ago. Under Tom's influence, he had grown sharper, more decisive, and increasingly aware of the power that came with knowledge.

The corridors of Hogwarts buzzed faintly with the murmurs of students heading to their destinations, the flickering torchlight casting shifting shadows on the ancient stone walls. Harry, Daphne, Hermione, and Ron were walking together, their discussion low but animated as they headed to the library.

"I'm just saying," Ron said, gesturing with exaggerated exasperation, "if Snape's after the stone, we need to figure out what he's planning next before he—"

The booming sound of Hagrid's cheerful hum cut Ron off. The half-giant came striding down the corridor, his massive boots echoing loudly as he carried an armful of books.

"Hagrid!" Harry called, jogging forward, his friends in tow. Hagrid grinned at them, but his expression quickly turned wary when he saw their determined faces.

"What are yeh lot up to? Not getting into trouble, I hope?" Hagrid said, his gruff voice a little too forced in its attempt to sound casual.

"We need to talk to you," Harry said seriously. "We overheard Snape threatening Quirrell. He's after the stone."

Hagrid's expression froze, and his eyes darted around the corridor as if expecting someone to overhear. "Shush!" he hissed, lowering his voice. "Yeh're not supposed to know about the stone, let alone talk about it out here!"

"But it's true, isn't it?" Hermione pressed, her tone a mix of urgency and frustration. "Snape's after it, and he's trying to get Quirrell to help him."

Hagrid shook his head vigorously, his wild beard bristling. "I'm tellin' yeh, Snape ain't after the stone. And even if he were, yeh've got no business stickin' yer noses in! Now drop it!"

As Hagrid started to walk away, Tom's voice whispered coldly in Harry's mind."Use Legilimency now. His mind will reveal the answers."

Harry hesitated, but Tom's insistence sharpened."This is the perfect opportunity. No one else is around. Go on, Harry—quickly!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry focused. As Hagrid turned to glance at him, Harry locked eyes with the half-giant and delved into his mind. But as soon as he did, confusion overwhelmed him. Hagrid's thoughts weren't structured like those of humans or wizards. They were a swirling, chaotic mess, fragmented images of creatures, emotions, and memories flashing by so rapidly that Harry struggled to make sense of any of it.

"Stop," Harry muttered under his breath, stepping back and breaking the connection. His head throbbed, and he felt slightly dizzy.

Tom's voice came again, laced with frustration."He's half-giant—that must be why his mind feels alien. Still, there are other ways to get what we need. Subtlety is wasted here."

"No," Harry whispered firmly, refusing Tom's suggestion. He straightened and looked at Hagrid again. "Hagrid, why do you have a book on dragons?"

Hagrid stiffened, glancing nervously at the top of the stack of books he carried. "Wha'? Oh, er... just doin' some research. Dragons're fascinatin', ain't they?"

Tom chuckled dryly in Harry's mind."Research? More like an unhealthy obsession. I'd wager he has a pet dragon hidden somewhere—wouldn't that be just like him?"

Harry, catching the hint of truth beneath Tom's mocking tone, narrowed his eyes. "Hagrid," he said slowly, "do you have a pet dragon?"

At this, Hagrid's face flushed a deep red, and he stammered. "Wha—me? A dragon? Don' be ridiculous, Harry! That'd be illegal, tha' would!"

Ron, however, perked up. "Itisillegal," he said, looking surprised. "My brother Charlie, raises dragons, and he's told me all about it. You'd get in loads of trouble if you were caught."

Tom snorted in Harry's mind."The Weasley boy knows something useful for once. Miracles never cease."

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, his massive hands fidgeting with the books. "I dunno what yer talkin' about," he muttered. "Now, if yeh'll excuse me—"

But Harry wasn't ready to let him go. "Hagrid, what else is guarding the stone besides Fluffy?" he asked, his voice direct and unwavering.

Hagrid froze again, then shook his head. "I can't tell yeh that, Harry. It's top secret. Now, really, yeh shouldn't be pokin' yer noses into this. It's dangerous."

Despite Hagrid's refusal, Harry persisted. He followed the half-giant out of the castle, his friends trailing close behind, until they arrived at Hagrid's wooden hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the warmth of a roaring fire greeted them as they stepped inside.

Hagrid busied himself by the fireplace, avoiding their questions, but Harry's sharp gaze caught something odd. In the heart of the flames rested a large, round object with a rough, stony texture.

"That's a dragon egg,"Tom said in Harry's mind, his tone certain.

Harry's eyes widened. "Hagrid, is that a dragon egg?" he asked aloud.

Hagrid froze, his back to them, before slowly turning around. His face was crimson, and he looked utterly caught. "Er... maybe," he admitted sheepishly.

Ron's jaw dropped. "You've got a dragon egg? Hagrid, that's illegal! Where did you even get it?"

Hagrid scratched the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at them. "Won it off a stranger last night in the village," he mumbled.

Hermione and Daphne exchanged incredulous looks. "You're raising a dragon in awooden hut?" Hermione exclaimed, her voice rising in alarm. "Hagrid, do you realize how dangerous that is?"

Hagrid waved her off, muttering something about knowing what he was doing, but his flustered demeanor didn't inspire confidence. Harry, meanwhile, was deep in thought, Tom's earlier words echoing in his mind.

As they left Hagrid's hut and headed back to their common rooms, Harry's mind was abuzz with questions. Who had given Hagrid the egg, and why? And how did it all connect to the stone? One thing was clear: they were running out of time.

TOM POV

The dormitory was silent, bathed in the faint moonlight spilling through the narrow windows. The shadows of the bedposts stretched across the stone floor like long, dark fingers. Harry lay in his bed, his breathing deep and even, giving the appearance of peaceful sleep. But within his mind, a storm was brewing.

Deep in the recesses of Harry's consciousness, Tom stirred. The sensation was like oil swirling on water—cold, dark, and calculating. For weeks, he had been biding his time, slowly influencing Harry, steering him toward his goals. But now, something unexpected had occurred, something that threatened to derail his carefully laid plans.

Another piece of me... awakened.

The realization sent a jolt of fury through Tom. How could this be? How could another fragment of his soul, one that should have remained dormant, suddenly emerge? Worse still, it was not just awake—it was active, alive, and apparently pretending to be him. The thought burned like acid.Impossible,he thought bitterly.How can a piece of my soul claim to be the Dark Lord while I, the true Lord Voldemort, am trapped in this boy's body, reduced to whispers in his mind?

Tom's anger simmered, a cold, calculating rage that burned hotter with each passing moment. Snape's actions had only fueled the fire. Once, Severus had been one of his most loyal Death Eaters, a spy who had played his role to perfection. And yet, it seemed Snape was now serving thispretender. The image of Snape bowing to the rogue Horcrux filled Tom with disgust. His voice hissed in Harry's subconscious, laced with venom."The fool... he dares to forget where his true loyalties lie? He serves a shadow, a fragment. I will not tolerate such betrayal."

Tom's thoughts turned darker, his plans forming with the precision of a blade being sharpened. The imposter had to die. It didn't matter that it was a fragment of his own soul; it was a threat to his supremacy, an aberration that needed to be eradicated. The irony was not lost on him—he had created the Horcruxes to ensure his immortality, to cheat death itself. Yet now, he faced the consequences of his own hubris.How could I have underestimated the magic binding my soul together?

He would not dwell on regrets. He was Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard to ever live. Regret was for the weak. Instead, he would act. First, he would possess the boy fully—Harry's resistance was waning, after all. Slowly but surely, the boy was bending to his influence. Soon, Harry would no longer be a vessel for Voldemort's whispers; he would be a tool, a weapon. Once he had full control, he would deal with the pretender, personally and brutally.

But before that could happen, there was the issue of the Philosopher's Stone. The cursed dog guarding the trapdoor was only the first obstacle. Tom's instinct was simple: kill the beast, destroy whatever defenses the professors had conjured, and take the stone by force. Yet Harry's continued resistance to Tom's more extreme suggestions was a thorn in his plans.The boy is soft,Tom thought with a sneer.But he's learning. Slowly, he's learning that power demands sacrifice. Soon, he will understand that weakness cannot be tolerated.

Tom shifted his focus back to the problem at hand. The stone had to be secured, for it was the key to everything—power, immortality, freedom. He whispered his thoughts into Harry's sleeping mind, his voice a silky thread weaving into Harry's dreams."We must act soon, Harry. Every delay puts the stone further from our grasp. The traps are nothing but trivialities. And Fluffy? A beast, easily disposed of. You're strong, Harry, stronger than you know. Trust me, and we will seize the stone before Snape or anyone else has the chance."

For a moment, the silence of the dormitory pressed in around him. Tom could feel Harry's subconscious stirring, resisting, yet drawn to the promises of power and control. It was only a matter of time before the boy gave in fully. And when he did, Tom would emerge victorious.

But first, there was the imposter. The rogue Horcrux could not be ignored. Tom's hatred burned coldly, like frost creeping over a windowpane. This pretender dared to wear his name, to usurp his power? No. That piece of his soul was a mistake, and mistakes were meant to be corrected.I will find it. I will destroy it. And if Snape gets in my way...

Tom's whisper in Harry's mind turned sharp, almost predatory."He will learn the price of betrayal, old friend. One way or another."

As the boy slept on, his expression peaceful, Tom's plotting continued. He could almost taste the victory that lay ahead—the stone, his rebirth, and the downfall of all who stood against him. The road was long, but Tom Riddle was nothing if not patient. The game was his to win, and soon, the world would remember why the name Voldemort inspired fear.