Archive of Our Own

It was late as the students arrived in Hogwarts. The sun had long set, and the carriages had stopped in front of the large doors leading into the castle. The rain was pouring, and Harry could hear large drops bumping off the windows and onto the soaked ground. He fastened his cloak around his neck and hurried inside, wishing he were dry again. He had his wand, of course, but right now he wished for nothing more than a warm bed and a hot supper.

It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To tell the truth, Harry had expected more events and adventures, when in reality it was pretty… boring. He went to his classes, did his homework (occasionally), sat his OWLs last year and got pretty good marks for them. His best friends, Ron and Hermione, didn’t find the school “boring”, but for Harry, something was inexplicably missing.

Sometimes he dreamt of strange things – a man with two heads, a gigantic snake slithering down familiar corridors, a scary cemetery where he was tied up to a grave… But none of this ever happened. Harry led a normal life, though he was indeed The Boy Who Lived.

Harry despised that title. The truth was that when Harry was just a year old, a dark and powerful wizard who went by the name of Lord Voldemort killed Harry’s parents and tried to kill him, but failed and presumably died. No body of said Voldemort was ever found, thus some thought that Voldemort did not truly die, that instead he went into hiding. Harry had no idea what had happened that fateful night, he just knew that the Killing Curse rebounded and left him with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Harry did not like being called The Boy Who Lived because he didn’t consider it his doing. How could a baby protect itself from Avada Kedavra? That was impossible. Fortunately, until now there was no sign of Voldemort returning or at least trying to, so Harry’s life was as peaceful as it could possibly be. Well, save for the summers, of course, when he had to live with the Dursleys who absolutely hated him and forced him to live in the cupboard under the stairs until he was eleven.

“Who d’you reckon will be our Defence teacher this year?” Ron asked as they ascended the stairs towards the Great Hall. “I hope not another Umbridge!”

Perhaps this was the worst thing at Hogwarts, which Harry loved more than anything – Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was Harry’s favourite subject, however, the staff never lasted long. All the teachers they’d had only stayed for a year. There was a rumour that the position had once been jinxed by Voldemort who wanted to apply, but was denied. Why Voldemort would ever want to teach children, Harry would never know.

“Yeah, Umbridge was awful”, Harry nodded. “With all of her Decrees and everything. Honestly, Ron, last year I was ready to thank Voldemort, if the rumours are true after all. I couldn’t handle her anymore.”

“Don’t say that name!” Ron shushed him, and Harry just shrugged. He knew that some wizards, including the Weasley family, did not believe Voldemort died on the 31^st October, 1981 when he attempted to kill Harry, but this fear of the name was just ridiculous. Even if he were alive… what damage could a simple name do?

“Boys, stop it!” Hermione interrupted. “Don’t shout. The first-years are about to be Sorted.”

Indeed, the doors of the Great Hall opened once again, and Harry watched all the younglings hurry inside. With a smile, he recalled his own first year and how scared he was that the Hat would refuse to Sort him. However, he didn’t want to watch the Sorting Ceremony, and as the food wasn’t there yet he just stared blankly at the tablecloth when suddenly he felt as if he were being watched.

Harry lifted up his head and looked around the Hall, glancing at the four tables, but everyone was indulging in a conversation or simply sitting there, bored. Actually, Harry was sort of used to being stared at, even though he detested it, but he couldn’t find anyone who could potentially be looking at him. He just felt it – an icy cold glare, coming from somewhere. It was chilling, and the fact that Harry didn’t see the person in return sent shivers down his spine. He’d never been in such a situation before.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione nudged him in the side. “Harry, you look so tense.”

“Nothing”, Harry waved it off. “Just tired, I guess.”

For some odd reason, he did not want to share this. As if the person staring could hear everything he said, Harry felt that he could not really talk about this. Of course, it probably wasn’t true, but Harry usually went with his gut feeling. It had saved them numerous times from being caught – perhaps one day it would save his life.

Then, finally, the Sorting was over as “Yewson, Hannah” was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Dumbledore, the Headmaster with whom Harry had quite close relations, rose from his chair and cleared his throat. The Hall immediately fell silent and Dumbledore began to speak.

“My dear students”, he said, loud and clear. “I welcome you to another year at Hogwarts. First, I would like to inform you that the Forbidden Forest should not be a place to wander, like last year”, he looked meaningfully at Harry, and he blushed, recalling his nightly excursion to the Forest with Luna Lovegood, a lovely Ravenclaw girl who wanted to show him Thestrals. “Also, Professor Umbridge unfortunately had to retire”, there was laughter and applause across the Hall. “I am pleased to inform you though that this year I managed to employ Professor Tom Riddle, who has a lot of experience in conquering the Dark Arts.”

Dumbledore turned slightly and looked meaningfully at a young man sitting at the staff table. With a jolt, Harry realised he’d never seen him before, but the man was still strikingly familiar – there was just this something in him that made Harry shiver. Riddle’s face was perfectly emotionless, however, his silver eyes glistened as he rose from his chair.

“No way!” whispered Hermione at Harry’s side. “He looks so young!”

He does though, Harry thought as he watched Riddle intently. He couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen! Harry would’ve known him had he gone to school in Harry’s time, but he didn’t. Riddle was handsome, his face probably the most handsome Harry had ever seen. His hair fell in his face in slick dark curls, his facial features were as if painted by an artist, and his hands were clasped together in front of his chest, long, musical fingers stroking his clear skin.

“This position is jinxed, or so I’ve heard”, said Riddle with a quiet laugh, and his voice turned out to be deep and velvety. Harry felt a shiver going down his back. How familiar he is… “Well, I hope indeed that I will break this curse.”

“We all do, Professor Riddle”, smiled Dumbledore, but Harry could tell the Headmaster wasn’t entirely relaxed. For some reason… “Let us hope it will go well.”

Riddle sat back down, and applause flooded the Hall. Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione, fidgeting nervously with the tablecloth. “What do you think of him?” he asked quietly.

“He’s young”, Hermione said carefully. “But I have a feeling he’s more than what he shows. He may be very powerful.”

“Oh, you’re the one to talk”, Ron snickered. “Remember our second year? Lockhart”, he whispered to Harry not-so-secretly. “Geez, ‘Mione, you had hearts around his subject on your timetable!”

“That was different!” Hermione flushed. “I was twelve!”

“Of course”, Ron smirked. “Lockhart this, Lockhart that. You just say this because Riddle is young and pretty.”

“She’s right”, Harry said suddenly. “Ron, there is something about him. I can feel it too.”

“Never knew you swing that way, Harry”, Ron didn’t seem at all wary, though. As usual… “Ooh, maybe Riddle caught your eye too? Or… was it vice versa? The guy has been staring at you the whole night!”

What?

Harry froze. Riddle… was watching him? That was whose gaze he’d felt? How… intriguing. Harry bit his lip in worry as he turned to the staff table only to catch Riddle’s eye. Indeed, he was staring at him, and for a moment Harry could swear he saw a red gleam in his eye. But it went as quickly as it came, and soon after Dumbledore announced the beginning of the feast. Harry, however, wasn’t at all hungry anymore.

That night, Harry stirred in his bed, unable to fall asleep. Well, that wasn’t exactly the case, as he managed to drift into a sort of an asleep state, but he woke up every five minutes; or so it felt anyway. Harry tossed and turned, wishing he were able to go to the Hospital Wing to get some Dreamless Sleep potion, since every time he closed his eyes he woke up again, never being able to remember what the dream was about though. At last, Harry managed to fall asleep, thinking that he would wake up again, but he didn’t. It was a calm sleep; Harry dreamt of faint stars and a silver wind.

In the morning, Harry awoke with a start, realising he must have overslept. Ron was standing next to his bed all dressed, which was indeed a rare occasion.

“Wake up, mate!” he hissed, and Harry sat up with a jolt. “Five more minutes and we’ll be late for Defence!”

That managed to wake Harry up at last. He scrambled for his clothes, trying his best to get dressed quickly – there was little to no time to try and dress neatly. Harry fumbled for his glasses and put them on, blinking rapidly like an owl and chasing away the last bits of sleep. The thought of what the new professor might think of him if he turned up late worked wonders, and Harry was ready in five minutes.

Ron glanced down meaningfully, and Harry noticed his robes were horribly dishevelled and his tie wasn’t tied properly. Well… he was sort of ready.

It turned out they weren’t exactly running late yet. Ron just wanted to have breakfast, and Harry could tell that he was extremely hungry judging by the sounds that came out of his stomach. He himself was hungry too – he hadn’t taken a bite of food last night, which Hermione had scolded him for after supper in the Common Room. Harry could not even explain where his appetite had gone, he just didn’t want to eat a thing. This morning though, it seemed that Harry’s stomach was protesting against his last night’s decision, and Harry happily helped himself to eggs and bacon, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Everything all right, Harry?” Hermione wondered, sitting herself down next to him. “You seemed… a bit off last night.”

“A bit off” was an understatement, but there really was no other way to describe it, especially since Harry himself did not know what had happened. “No idea”, he grumbled, taking a sip of his juice. “Maybe I was just a little ill.”

That response didn’t satisfy Hermione, however, she said nothing more about it. “You boys better hurry up”, she warned them. “You do not want to be late for Professor Riddle’s class. I have a feeling he won’t be very happy about it.”

“Another Snape”, Ron grumbled. “Why do we have to put up with him anyway?”

“Ronald”, Hermione tsked. “Firstly, Professor Snape. Secondly, he’s a teacher, and Professor Dumbledore trusts him enough to give him this position. We have to respect it.”

Hermione was right, Harry had to admit, but he did not want to respect Snape of all people. He looked more like a bat than anything, and he was entirely unpleasant. He taught Potions, Harry’s least favourite subject. Once he was told that his mother was the best at Potions in her year, but Harry didn’t seem to take after her in that.

They quickly finished their breakfast and arrived just in time, as Harry presumed. Ron and Hermione were walking in front of Harry, bickering about Snape, and Harry was about to chime in and say something when a familiar, velvet voice called after him.

“Your tie has been twisted in your collar, Mr…” Riddle said as Harry turned around to face him. He looked sympathetic enough, but Harry could tell that the smile on his face was fake.

“Potter, Professor”, Harry said shyly as he fumbled with his tie. There was something utterly uncomfortable about having been called out by Riddle. “I’m sorry. I slept late today.”

“It’s nothing, Mr Potter”, Riddle assured Harry, nudging him towards the classroom. “I myself find it hard to get accustomed to a new place quickly.”

Harry walked into the classroom and realised his friends had already taken their seats and were looking expectantly at the door. Harry smiled uncomfortably and quickly took his place next to Ron, throwing his bag onto the floor and taking out his textbook.

“Oh, do not bother, Mr Potter”, said Riddle as he passed him by. “Actually, I want you all to put your books away. I have been told that you haven’t had a professor for more than a year, thus your studying process has been inconsistent so far. I would like to see what you have learnt.”

That was intriguing, to say the least. Harry heard most of the students sigh in relief; at least Riddle didn’t seem like another Umbridge. So far Harry could say that Lupin, a friend of his father, was their best professor, but he left after Snape’s disclosure of his “furry problem”. Apparently, a werewolf wasn’t allowed to teach at Hogwarts, even with all precautions taken. After that, Harry began to hate Snape even more.

“Now, let us move the desks to one side”, Riddle waved his wand, and the desks began to pile up in the corner of the classroom.

“This is very impressive magic”, Hermione whispered next to Harry. “Non-verbal spells are extremely hard to master. I hope he will teach us how to do it; you usually learn about them in sixth year.”

“Yeah, he seems powerful, this one”, Ron replied casually. “Look how relaxed he is.”

Riddle did, in fact, seem like he was applying no force whatsoever. Almost casually he moved the desks and chairs to one corner and flicked his wand between his fingers. “Now I want you to find a partner and show me what you have learnt.”

Somewhere in the distance Harry thought he heard muffled cries; he was sure it was Neville, who, even though he progressed significantly last year with Harry’s help, was still not the best student in the classroom.

Harry smiled shortly as he positioned himself across from Ron, who was already holding his wand at the ready. Let the duel begin.

“Expelliarmus!” Ron attacked first, and then the classroom was filled with curses and jinxes and disarming spells. Harry cast a quick Shielding Charm and ducked the curse, shouting “Incarcerous!” in return. Ron managed to get out of the curse’s way, and the ropes hit some object on Riddle’s table, immediately tying it up.

“Locomotor Mortis!”

“Muffliato! Protego!”

“Obscuro!”

“Petrificus Totalus!”

“Protego! Stupefy!”

Ron was good, Harry had to admit. But he grew tired quickly, because he attacked with full force in the beginning in hopes of a quick victory. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t tired yet, so he decided to go straightforward with all of his force that he managed to find.

“Rictusempra!” cried Harry and as he watched Ron lose track of him for a second, he quickly pointed his wand at him again. “Petrificus Totalus!”

As Harry had predicted, his tactic worked perfectly. Ron got exhausted too quickly, and a direct attack was more than enough to knock him off his feet.

“Finite Incantatem”, Harry said immediately, reversing his stunning charm and running towards Ron, who was still a but confused. Harry helped him up and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Everything all right?” he asked carefully, trying to figure out whether Ron was offended or not.

But then Ron shook his head and smiled widely. “That was brilliant, mate!” he said, eyes shining. “There’s no one better at Defence than you!”

“I wouldn’t put that so categorically, Mr…” once again Harry failed to notice Riddle approaching. He felt like the new professor moved without a sound.

“Ron Weasley, Sir”, Ron said, shrugging. “And Harry is the best, isn’t he?” he added, frowning.

“I never said Mr Potter wasn’t good”, Riddle put his hands in front of his chest protectively. “In fact, I daresay I was very impressed by both of you”, he smiled, and Harry felt a surge of pride in his chest. “And Mr Potter in particular. However, be careful when putting someone so care-freely above all others; as it may lead to arrogance and overestimating one’s powers.”

Ron nodded and shrugged as the last students finished their duels and managed to disarm their opponents. Harry glanced quickly around the classroom and was extremely pleased to realise that his students from last year did the best. The Slytherins, with whom they shared this particular class, were however not as lucky, as none of them had a chance to actually learn something last year. Harry’s little club was despised by Umbridge and the Slytherins, so he invited none of them in.

Harry watched Malfoy scramble up from the floor as he duelled with Crabbe; the latter wasn’t particularly powerful or skilled but his hatred for everything, except maybe food, was enough to cast spells that involved somehow hurting the target. At last though, he seemed to surrender as Malfoy sent him a Stupefy and sighed, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. He glanced quickly at Harry and then looked away just as quickly, holding his chin high. ‘There’s one who puts himself above all others without anyone telling him that’, Harry thought smugly. He felt particularly good because Riddle never once approached Malfoy during their lesson.

“All in all, I cannot say I am pleased with what I have seen”, Riddle stated as the last curses were reversed. “I must admit I see potential in some of you and power in others, but your training must have left much to be desired. The Dark Arts are mighty and powerful, so you must learn to defend yourselves properly. Although some students have indeed shown good results, we will see what becomes of them as we progress. Your home task is to revise as much as you know about nonverbal spells. No essays please, just a quick revision. I will see you next time. Have a good day.”

“Have a good day”, Harry heard Malfoy mutter as he exited the classroom. “Who does he think he is? Speaking about the Dark Arts so casually.”

“Speaking from experience, are you, Malfoy?” Harry snapped. “Just admit that there are things in this world you aren’t good at!”

“Look who it is”, Malfoy taunted. “Saint Potter. Got a praise from Riddle and you think everything’s allowed?”

“Shut up, Malfoy”, Ron chimed in, frowning.

“Oh, it’s the Weasel. How sweet”, Malfoy casually took his wand out of his pocket. “The best part of today’s class was probably seeing you petrified on the floor. Finally found your dream job, Weaselbee?”

“Come on, boys”, Hermione pushed Harry and Ron forward. “Don’t pay him any attention.”

“Right, boys, listen to your Mudblood!”

That Harry couldn’t handle. He turned around and whipped his wand out, and, without thinking, he blasted Malfoy against the door of the classroom. Satisfied, Harry turned around and put his hand on Hermione’s shoulder, trying hard not to look back because he felt that glare again, piercing him all the way through.

Their second period was Potions, and Snape looked as grumpy as ever. He wrote the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death on the blackboard and stated that they had not more than an hour to complete it. Harry, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to produce anything even closely resembling the original, instead drifted off to sleep as he hadn’t got enough plus he had tired during Defence.

“Mr Potter” came a low voice right above him. “And Mr Weasley. I appreciate your desire to not blow up my classroom, but if you want to get a passing grade by the end of this class, you will have to get to work. Miss Granger, do not help them. Five points from Gryffindor for sleeping in my class.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And here we go again”, he muttered, raising his head from the desk and shrugging at Ron, who was looking equally as dishevelled. “Start the fire, will you? I’ll get the ingredients.”

Harry had no idea what they needed, so he just grabbed everything from the cupboard and propped it onto his and Ron’s desk, hoping that they’d at least get an Acceptable for this, although the chance of that was pretty slim.

As they began to try and follow the instructions, Ron whispered to Harry, “What d’you reckon has got into him? He seems even worse than usual.”

“I don’t know”, Harry shook his head and attempted to squeeze one of the beans, but it jumped away from him. “Damn. I uh, maybe it has something to do with Riddle? Remember Snape in our third year, he was absolutely insufferable because Lupin was teaching.”

“It looks like everything in this school has something to do with Riddle”, Ron rolled his eyes. “Calm down, mate. What’s up with you? Maybe you really have a crush on him?” he smirked, and Harry shifted uncomfortably under Ron’s glare. “After all, I’ve never seen you with a girl before save for that horrible date with what was it, Cho last year.”

Cho Chang was a very pretty Ravenclaw Seeker whom Harry had found attractive at some point in his life. He fell for her in his fourth year, but back then she was all about Cedric, the Golden Boy of Hufflepuff. As time passed, Cedric left school and went on to pursue his career, and Cho finally turned her attention to Harry. They talked a lot, especially since Cho was part of Harry’s little club last year, and once they even kissed. After that kiss Harry finally mustered up the courage to ask her out, but the date went disastrously and Cho looked so displeased with everything that Harry didn’t dare ask what was wrong. After that one date, Harry’s feelings seemed to just wither and die, whereas Cho’s feelings might have never existed even. Ron was right though; Cho was the only girl he ever paid attention to.

“Oh shut it, Ron”, Harry waved it off. “I just haven’t met the right one yet.”

“Or have you? Riddle…” Ron began but was rudely interrupted.

“Potter, Weasley! What is so important that you are discussing it in my class?” Snape jeered. “Another five points from Gryffindor!”

“Just our Defence Against The Dark Arts class, sir”, Harry said defensively. “And our new professor.” He heard Ron snicker and elbowed him in the side.

Harry half expected Snape to lash out at them and take a thousand points or so from Gryffindor, but he suddenly went all tense and pursed his lips.

“I am not sure Professor Riddle would like to be discussed when he cannot hear it”, said Snape in a coarse and rough voice. “Now get back to your potion. Ten minutes left.”

Harry turned to Ron, his mouth almost hanging open, and saw Ron blinking in equal surprise. They decided not to push it and went back to their already stinking potion which did not look one bit like the Draught of Living Death.

They had received a Troll for their concoction – who would doubt that – and now were walking down the hallway to the Great Hall to have lunch. That day they had Charms after lunch, but it was not for another two hours or so, so they could relax and talk to each other instead.

“Something crawled up his arse and died this morning, I’m telling you”, Ron was waving his arms as they left the dungeons. “And what was that reaction?”

“You’re not supposed to sleep or talk in class”, Hermione snapped. “You’re lucky Professor Snape only took ten points from you.”

“No, not about that”, Ron interrupted. “Did you see him? He looked so…”

“Scared”, said Hermione suddenly, and Harry felt it. Yes, Snape was scared. He was utterly terrified of Riddle! Wow, that was something new. So far Harry hadn’t seen anything or anyone, for that matter, that could possibly scare Snape. And yet, here they were.

“I don’t even know what to say”, Ron wiped his hand on his face. “For Harry it’s all revolving around Riddle. He’s like you in second year, I swear…”

“Ronald!” Hermione was outraged. “First of all, Professor Riddle… And secondly, how could you…”

“Maybe we could stop discussing that?” Harry sighed. “I just really want to peacefully have lunch, okay?”

“Sure, Harry”, Hermione smiled weakly. “Of course. Let’s go and eat, I can’t wait to tell you what homework I got for the summer for Ancient Runes…”

Harry and Ron followed her quietly to the Great Hall, half listening to her banter, and propped onto the benches so that Harry and Hermione were on one side and Ron was on the other. Hermione kept talking about her homework that she’d found extremely interesting, and Harry let himself drift away absentmindedly, listening to her excited voice and eating his lunch almost automatically.

“Hi Harry! Hi Ron, Hermione!” It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister. She was a fifth year student and a nice girl, Harry liked hanging out with her at the Burrow a lot. This year he got to spend a full month at the Weasleys’ and he had lots of fun with Ron, Ginny, Fred and George.

“Hi”, Harry greeted her. “How were your first classes?”

“Oh, you know, as usual”, Ginny blushed a little. “Can I sit?”

“Sure”, Harry pointed to the other side of the table, where there was some free space next to Ron.

Ginny looked somewhat offended, and Harry was utterly confused. Wasn’t that what she wanted? To sit down? Hermione elbowed him under the ribs, and Harry only shrugged. Girls were extremely hard to understand sometimes… At least Hermione wasn’t like that.

Ginny did end up walking around the table and taking the seat next to Ron, but she proceeded to address Hermione with something and did not talk to Harry the whole lunch.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked Ron quietly, but he didn’t answer. Probably, he just didn’t know either. Yes, Harry sighed to himself picking up a tomato with his fork, girls are almost impossible to understand. Even for their brothers.

Then Harry just seemed to start going with the flow, that is, he got used to his new schedule and learnt to even have a rest in between classes. It was wonderful; plus, Harry, despite having quite a lot of homework to do, still had it much easier than Hermione, who had two subjects more. Harry struggled with his own tasks and, with a horror, recalled his third year when Hermione took all twelve of the classes on the curriculum. He definitely could not imagine that – he had a difficult enough time with his six.

In the evenings Harry usually spent his time with Ron and his other dorm mates playing Exploding Snap or just talking. Dean and Seamus, as it turned out, had wonderful summer holidays – Dean visited Peru, and Seamus got to spend a whole month in Japan. Harry and Ron listened to their stories eagerly, while Neville kept asking about any special plants that they might have encountered on their way. Of course, neither Dean nor Seamus cared about the flora of the country they had visited, and that made Neville a bit sad in the beginning. But then he got a gift from his grandmother, apparently, and it was some kind of a rare cactus that required special care, so Neville stopped indulging in their conversations as much and preferred to spend his time with his cactus instead.

It turned out that they only had Defence once a week on Mondays, and that made Harry a bit disappointed. Ron’s jokes about Harry’s apparent “crush” slowly died out, as they had no real explanation. Harry, it seemed, would never know why Ron taunted him with that for a whole week. Well, at least he stopped, Harry sighed happily as he made his bed next Monday and descended to the Common Room where Hermione was already sitting with a book.

“Morning, Hermione”, said Harry, yawning. “What are you reading?”

“I’m reading about nonverbal spells, of course”, Hermione said. “I didn’t finish this chapter yesterday. It was our homework”, she pressed. “Do you want to tell me you haven’t read anything?”

Harry shrugged, realising with a horror that he really hadn’t. He had spent his Sunday evening with Ron and Ginny playing Gobstones in the Common Room, failing to notice that Hermione had gone. Well, the fact that she had spent her Sunday evening in the library wasn’t at all surprising.

“I can see it in your eyes”, Hermione sighed. “You know, after all these years even Hagrid’s Flobberworms would remember to read at least what is necessary”, she joked, and Harry laughed.

“Well, at least you can train the Flobberworms to do as you like”, he smiled and propped onto the sofa with her. “Are we waiting for Ron then? He’s almost ready.”

Hermione nodded and started reading her book again, Harry glancing at the lines over her shoulder. He didn’t want to show up to Defence completely unprepared, but he had the sinking feeling he’d have to anyway. He would not manage to remember even the smallest bit of information reading like that. Plus, Hermione with her joke was kind of right – Harry didn’t really like reading at all.

Ron showed up some ten minutes later, and Hermione’s first question was whether he was as unprepared for their class as Harry was. Ron just waved his hand, and that was the best answer he could give. Hermione just sighed and during their whole walk towards the Great Hall and while eating breakfast she kept speaking about nonverbal spells, apparently hoping that they would memorise at least something.

This time, they weren’t running late; in fact, they even came earlier than expected. This time though, Ron was dragged to the side by Lavender Brown, a pretty but stupid Gryffindor girl who had taken a liking to him the previous year. Harry felt a bit betrayed, but quickly shook this feeling off – Lavender was a girl, after all, he was probably the only boy who didn’t want girls’ attention. So he sat down next to Hermione and took out his textbook, some parchment, a quill and an ink bottle, sighing and trying to recall at least something from what Hermione had told them that morning.

Professor Riddle entered the classroom, and all the conversations immediately ceased; he didn’t even have to say a word. He waved his wand once, and ‘Nonverbal Spells’ showed up on the blackboard.

“So”, Riddle said, eyeing the classroom. “Who can tell me what nonverbal spells are? Yes, Miss…” he pointed to Hermione who already had her arm up in the air.

“Granger, Sir”, Hermione straightened in her chair. “A nonverbal spell is a spell which is performed without the wizard casting it speaking the incantation aloud. They are quite difficult to master as they require concentration and mental discipline.”

“Correct, Miss Granger”, Riddle nodded. “Very good indeed. And who will tell me whether nonverbal spells are more or less effective than normal ones? Any others?” he sighed, noting that only Hermione’s arm was up in the air. “Perhaps Mr Potter may tell us?” Riddle turned his silver glare to Harry, and he immediately blushed, as Hermione’s hand shot up even higher.

“Well…” Harry fumbled with his sleeve. “Perhaps… less effective?”

“Indeed”, Riddle smiled encouragingly at him. “Don’t be so shy, Mr Potter, I am sure you know the answers. Five points to Gryffindor”, he added, taking notice of Harry and Hermione’s ties.

Harry smiled brightly, but Hermione looked slightly annoyed.

“Now, today, as you may have guessed, we will be learning about nonverbal spells”, Riddle started pacing around the classroom. “As Miss Granger has previously stated, these are the spells performed without speaking the incantation out loud, which can give you an extreme advantage in duelling. Imagine that you do not have to say the spell out loud; firstly, it will take much less time to cast, and secondly, your opponent will have to take time to either duck from your spell or cast the correct Shielding Charm. Thus, I believe that nonverbal spells are very useful, especially when dealing with Dark magic.

“There are also several spells that are only cast nonverbally, for example”, Riddle whipped his wand out, waved it, and all of a sudden Draco Malfoy, who had just been sitting at his desk, was hanging in the air upside down screaming in horror.

“Help! What is going on? Why… Crabbe! Goyle!” Malfoy shouted, and it took Harry a great deal to suppress a laugh. Riddle then waved his wand again, and, as Malfoy fell to the floor in a heap, winked at Harry, who immediately blushed crimson and looked away.

“My father will hear about this!” Malfoy stated as he composed himself and sat back down.

Riddle only smiled. “Oh, no need, Mr Malfoy. This was a simple demonstration of what nonverbal spells can do. This was the Levicorpus spell, and, while I cannot say it is useful in duelling, it does show how effective it is not to speak the incantation. Had I said ‘Levicorpus’ out loud, Mr Malfoy would have known what to expect and thus could have avoided such an outcome.”

“Professor”, Parvati immediately put her hand up in the air. “Can all spells be used nonverbally?”

“Most of them”, Riddle nodded. “Although, for example, the Unforgivable curses that you may be familiar with cannot. Perhaps you will explain why, Miss…”

“Patil, Professor”, Parvati cocked her head to the side. “Maybe because they require a great deal of force?”

“Yes, and, more importantly, extreme concentration”, said Riddle. “You have to concentrate hard enough to cast, for example, the Cruciatus curse, it is practically impossible to use it nonverbally, plus, it is less effective anyway, as Mr Potter told us. But we will learn about these curses later on. And now, let us divide into pairs”, he clapped his hands. “I’m sure that you know the spell Obscuro, correct? Well, let us start with this one. Your job is to cast the spell on your partner without saying the incantation. I will be watching, of course, and you can ask me any questions. Begin.”

Harry turned to Hermione and shared a glance with her, deciding that she should try first. Harry closed his eyes, ready for a quick blindfold, but he felt a jolt of surprise when he heard Hermione’s wand flick but nothing happened. He sat like that, eyes closed, for another few minutes, but with no result, and eventually he just opened his eyes to find a dishevelled Hermione in front of him.

“It’s so- so hard”, she breathed. “I cannot imagine how much time it took Professor Riddle to master this.”

“Let me try?” Harry offered. “Maybe it’ll work with me.”

“But… but I should be able to do this!” Hermione argued. “I’ve read up on the theory, I’ve read all the books and…”

“Miss Granger, as much as I appreciate the theory, it is hardly the most important thing in my subject”, said Riddle, casually strolling towards them. “I can see you are gifted, but you need to practise more.”

“But Professor Riddle”, Hermione snapped her head to him. “Shouldn’t theory be creating a base for practice? How else would you perform all these difficult spells?”

“I agree that you should know the theory, which is why I assigned you to read it”, Riddle smiled slightly. “But do not expect to have brilliant results just because you know the theory. I myself always did, but it was always accompanied by a lot of practice”.

Hermione looked stunned. She probably didn’t expect that, Harry thought; well, maybe this was indeed one of the only subjects where you can’t excel by simply reading the whole textbook. He himself had failed to read even a line; he’d completely forgotten about the home task, since it didn’t involve an essay.

“Oh, do not look disappointed, Miss Granger”, Riddle’s eyes softened. “I have already stated that theory is important in any case. However, you should pay more attention to practice.”

“He’s probably right”, Hermione hummed as Riddle walked away to instruct someone else. Harry took it as a cue to look around the classroom, and, as he’d expected, no one managed to get it right for now. If not even Hermione… “I probably got full marks in written Defence OWLs, but lagged behind in practice”, she pursed her lips.

“You’ll get it, eventually”, Harry hurried to calm her down.

“The lesson will end soon”, Hermione commented solemnly. “Would you like to try, too?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind”, Harry took out his wand and pointed it at Hermione, who promptly closed her eyes. Frankly speaking, he had no idea what to do, unlike Hermione who’d read the whole book on these spells, probably. He guessed that the incantation had to be uttered somehow, but if verbal incantation wasn’t allowed, then how?

Maybe I should pronounce it in my mind, Harry thought as he concentrated on the word ‘Obscuro’ and flicked his wand. It came as no surprise that nothing happened, but Harry wasn’t discouraged easily. He tightened his jaw and tried again, and again, and again as Hermione waited patiently without opening her eyes.

Harry had guessed it would be hard, but he never knew it would be this hard. He took one more look at the classroom and caught the eye of Riddle who nodded in encouragement. Harry bit his lip as he understood he had no chance of getting it, but he still waved his wand again and again, thinking profusely and sweating so hard that his hair got stuck to his forehead.

And then… Harry realised something. He was trying to do it the way the book had told them – concentrate as much as you can. But when had Harry ever concentrated? He usually went with his gut feeling, so he decided to let it go and try it as he always did, and that was just go with it and hope it’ll work.

‘Obscuro!’ Harry thought, flicking his wand again but this time setting his mind not on the spell itself, but on the result. It just came to him as he relaxed, the thought of Hermione with a black blindfold over her eyes. Harry closed his eyes and bit into his lip, hard, because if that wouldn’t work then nothing would. But then he heard Hermione’s yelp and opened his eyes to look at her and – and was shocked to see that half of her face was covered by an obscure piece of fabric, undoubtedly conjured by him.

“You did it”, Hermione said in an attempt to sound happy, but her voice was kind of sour and Harry thought he knew why. “Congratulations!”

Harry proceeded to say “Finite Incantatem” to reverse the spell and met Hermione’s bright brown eyes that looked happy despite of the tone of her voice.

“I got it”, Harry smiled. “I did!”

“How?” Hermione demanded. “How did you do that? Tell me!”

“Well, I…” Harry began, but was stopped by a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Whatever you did, do not share your secrets, Harry”, Riddle said, smiling. “The Dark Arts would want to use that.”

“But Hermione-“ Harry argued.

“Well, of course, Miss Granger is no enemy to you”, Riddle squeezed his shoulder. “And you, of course, can tell her. But I rather advise you to keep your methods secret from everyone aside from your friends.

“I think Mr Potter deserves ten points”, Riddle announced loudly. “He was the first one to manage a nonverbal spell.”

There was a round of applause in the classroom. Hermione clapped, too, and Harry saw Ron cheer him up, but the Slytherins clearly looked not so pleased.

“Now, I would like to say that this was an indeed difficult task, and we’ll keep practising in our next lessons”, Riddle continued. “For next Monday, I would like you to write a short essay on how nonverbal spells may be useful in battle. You may be free, I will see you next week”, Harry attempted to get up, but Riddle’s hand suddenly kept him firm in place. “Actually… Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Mr Malfoy and… er, Mr Nott. Would you please stay? I want to have a talk with you. It will not be long.”

Surprised, Harry sat back down, Riddle’s hand still on his shoulder, and shrugged helplessly as Hermione took a long look at him. Out if the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lavender blow a quick kiss at Ron before she disappeared with the others, and soon it was just him, Ron, Malfoy and Nott. Who Nott was, Harry didn’t know, he just knew he was from Slytherin. The three of them gathered around Harry and Riddle who never made a move to step away from Harry.

“What is it that you wanted, Professor Riddle?” asked Nott in an emotionless tone.

“I’ve had two lessons to observe you all already”, Riddle said. “And I’ve come to the obvious conclusion that some of you are more gifted than others. I have travelled a lot and seen many places in which I had the chance to practise different spells. It would be terrible to waste all that knowledge, but unfortunately, I can’t teach it to everyone for two reasons.”

“And what would those reasons be?” asked Malfoy indignantly. It was clear he didn’t like Riddle much.

“Well, the first one being that we have to follow the curriculum, Mr Malfoy”, Riddle answered calmly. “And the second one is, well, that not all of you possess the ability to learn what I can teach you. The four of you, on the other hand,” Riddle glanced at each of them. “I have seen you in both classes. I have watched you duel, which is, I believe, extremely important. Even if you may not know enough spells, I can tell you are different. Better.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Ron, his hands trembling. It had to be a boost for his ego, Harry thought. He himself didn’t like being singled out and felt a bit uncomfortable being looked at by Riddle.

“We could organise a club”, Riddle said. “We could meet in my classroom on, say, Tuesdays and Fridays. Would that be fine?” they nodded. “Great. Then I will talk to the Headmaster, but I am sure he will allow it.”

“What will we be learning?” demanded Malfoy.

“Spells and techniques, Mr Malfoy”, Riddle smiled, but not very pleasantly. “Ones that I cannot teach to the vast majority of students.”

Malfoy nodded, and Harry could tell that he began to like Riddle more and more. That’s what good words do to selfish brats, he thought with a sigh.

“I will let you know if we are able to have our first lesson tomorrow”, Riddle said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “If not, then we’ll see each other on Friday. Now off you go, or you will be late for your next class.”

“Goodbye, Professor Riddle”, they said as they left the classroom. Malfoy and Nott walked out immediately, talking about something, Ron, however, stayed in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Harry rose from his chair slowly, but the silver eyes fixated on him made him feel different again. And Harry couldn’t say it was a bad kind of different.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Ron”, Harry promised as he turned back around. “Professor Riddle, I…” he stuttered. What should he say? “I’m not as special as you may think. I might be the Boy Who Lived and all but…”

“Mr Potter, do you think I chose you because of this?” Riddle arched a brow as one of his fingers ran across Harry’s scar. “No. I chose you because you were the only one to cast a nonverbal spell today, and you impressed me last week with your duelling. This is why I would like to teach you along with others who showed the best results separately. You can do more, so why not try to do more?”

Harry nodded. That he could accept. He was still quite shy because of all the attention, and he felt his cheeks heat up and grow red. Riddle stepped closer to him and placed his hand on Harry’s elbow. Now they were barely a metre apart.

“You are talented, Mr Potter. Do not ever doubt it. And now, you should go. I believe Mr Weasley is waiting for you behind that door”, Riddle smiled a little, and with a jolt Harry realised it was the first ever genuine smile he’d ever seen on Riddle’s face. It was sort of strange but on the other hand… it made Harry happy. Riddle made him feel special not because if his status but because of what he, Harry, could do. That was a nice thought.

“That’s wicked, isn’t it?” chirped Ron as he and Harry made their way to Potions. “Private classes with Riddle!”

“It is”, Harry agreed with a sigh. “Hermione’s going to be fuming.”

“Probably”, Ron said, shrugging. “I have to tell Lavender this! She’ll be so happy for me! Oh crap”, he moaned suddenly. “Malfoy will be there! And this… this other one…”

“Nott”, Harry finished. “I have no idea who he is.”

“He’s a Slytherin and that’s enough”, Ron’s face contorted. “Merlin, Harry, we’ll have to share another class with the Slytherins! Why does Riddle even want them there?”

“No idea”, Harry offered. “He has his own logic, I assume.”

“And why did he leave you?” Ron lifted his eyebrows. “Did he offer you, what’s it called… individual training?”

If Harry didn’t know better, he’d assume Ron was jealous. “No, nothing like that”, he smiled. “Riddle just told me a few things about today’s class, that’s it.” Well, it wasn’t a lie. Harry blushed a little; the memory of Riddle complimenting him brought the butterflies back.

“Riddle seems to have a personal interest in you, mate”, Ron wrinkled his nose. “How old is he anyway?”

“It’s nothing like that!” Harry said, horrified. “Ron, you know I’d never…”

Ron didn’t have the chance to say anything as that was the moment they entered Snape’s classroom, and he looked beside himself with fury.

“Potter! Weasley!” he hissed. “I would, of course, like to hear your excuse for being late…”

“Professor Riddle asked us to stay after class”, Harry said bravely, recalling Snape’s almost unconditional fear of Riddle. “He wanted to discuss a few things with us.”

“He’s telling the truth, Professor Snape”, Hermione offered from where she was sitting. “Professor Riddle did want a word with Harry and Ron.”

Snape pursed his lips but said nothing and simply gestured for them to sit down. They sat at the last desk, and Harry failed to hide his smirk; his tactic worked even better than he’d anticipated. He didn’t know why Snape was so terrified of Riddle but he was going to use it since it was the only way to get to him.

Potions went quite well, but as boring as usual. Harry barely listened to Snape, lost in his own thoughts. He thought of Riddle, of private classes with him, of Snape’s obvious fear of him. Harry had many, many questions about Riddle, but there wasn’t really anyone he could ask them.

At lunch Harry, Ron and Hermione were joined by Ginny who looked ecstatic.

“Have you heard the news?” she waved her hands excitedly. “Riddle is starting a private club for the gifted!”

“He is?” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “How do you know?”

“Well, I’m in it, of course”, Ginny lifted her head. “He asked me and Luna to stay after class and told us about his idea of a club. Of course, we agreed”, she smiled. “Luna says that his nargles are noisy but trustworthy enough.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Nargles don’t exist, Ginny”, she said. “And I haven’t heard of any club.” She suddenly frowned and looked at Harry and Ron, who were staring at each other nervously. They hadn’t told Hermione yet, they just didn’t know how. Harry had assumed she would be offended due to not having been invited but he did want to tell her over lunch. Well, it looked like Ginny had done it for them. “Is there something you would like to tell me?” she asked them.

“Well we do know”, Ron shrugged. “We were invited. Malfoy and Nott too”, he curved his lips in disgust.

“Sorry for not telling you, Hermione”, Harry smiled apologetically. “We wanted to tell you during lunch. Really.”

Hermione nodded, not looking too happy. Harry suspected he knew why; not only had she failed in today’s class, but she hadn’t even been invited to this private club of his. With Hermione’s respect for the professors, though, Harry doubted she’d blame Riddle.

“This sounds like a good idea”, she admitted in the end. “At least you will maybe study one subject well enough.”

“He said he’d teach us things he wouldn’t teach just anyone”, Ron said proudly. “Wait, I have to tell Lavender!” he shot up and strode towards the other side of the table where Lavender Brown was sat, talking to her best friend Parvati Patil.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I won’t be surprised if they start dating in a few weeks”, Ginny said, smiling slightly. Harry shrugged.

“Make it days”, Hermione added darkly. “I wonder if he’ll forget about his studies entirely once he gets a girlfriend.”

“Oh don’t be like that”, Ginny grinned. “The fact that you’re not dating anyone doesn’t give you the right to blame others for wanting to.”

Harry gaped at her. “Ginny!” he was horrified. “That wasn’t very nice to say!”

“This isn’t what it seems, Harry”, Hermione shook her head, not looking one bit offended. “Ginny and I… talked…” she trailed off. “About something. That’s why she’s saying it. It’s nothing.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and sighed. “All right, I won’t interfere in your girls’ stuff. But you’re my friend, Hermione, I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

By Tuesday, the news about Riddle’s private club had already travelled all around the school. Everyone was talking about it, even the students who weren’t supposed to know about it at all. Harry felt a bit cornered, since everybody was looking at him and discussing him as the most important member of the blasted club. Harry felt extremely uncomfortable as he left the castle and made his way towards the greenhouses, for they had Herbology. Hermione and Ron had been trying to cheer him up all morning, but the students’ whispers and conversations made Harry hide in his shell and snap at them. He hadn’t meant it, of course, and immediately apologised, but the damage had been done. They’d offered to walk to the greenhouses with Harry, however he’d refused. He needed some alone time without all these whispers and conversations.

“Mr Potter?” a familiar voice called after him. Harry groaned internally; Riddle was the last person he wanted to see at that particular moment. “Is anything wrong?”

Harry shook his head, quickening his pace, but Riddle placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Now, Mr Potter, you can’t show up to class like that.”

“I have to go”, Harry said weakly. “I’ll be late.”

“Mr Potter, you know that you left the castle way too early? The lesson won’t start until nine o’clock, and now it’s only half past eight.”

Harry sighed. “I just want to be alone for a while.”

Riddle walked around Harry and looked into his eyes, smiling slightly. “I believe I even know why. Is it because everyone is talking about you?”

“How did you…” Harry stammered. “Professor!”

“Remember that I was once a student too, Mr Potter”, Riddle grasped his shoulder tighter; Harry thought that it was becoming his habit. “And I used to dislike attention as much as you do.”

“I think you got loads of it”, Harry said without thinking. “Girls especially, wasn’t it?”

“Both, and not just for the reason you are thinking of”, Harry couldn’t tell whether Riddle’s smile was genuine or not but it sent shivers down his spine nonetheless. “It is a long story, Mr Potter, perhaps one day I will tell you. However, what I can say now is that I understand how you feel. All of this attention…” Riddle’s free hand waved in the air towards the castle. Somehow, Harry was glad they were alone outside.

“You do?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Is it so hard to believe?” Riddle chucked. “I may be older than you, but not by much. I still remember what it felt like, being a student, walking across these grounds. I understand you very well, Harry.”

“I, uh… Thank you?” Harry offered uncomfortably. “Professor Riddle, about that nonverbal spell… I don’t know how I did it”, he admitted, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “It was an instinct of sorts, I just felt it, I guess… I’m not a genius.”

“That is what we call talent, Mr Potter”, Riddle nodded approvingly. “Teaching most students I have to explain how the spell works, the technique itself so that they may copy what I do. With you, it’s different, and you should be proud you are so gifted.”

“Professor Riddle, I’m not that special”, Harry blushed. “I hate attention and I don’t like being singled out… That’s what they’ve been doing all my life anyway.” Harry had no idea why he was sharing his thoughts with Riddle all of a sudden. But he looked… so understanding. Perhaps he really did understand. Harry felt… safe with him. For some reason he trusted Riddle. There was something… something in him that drew him towards the charming professor.

“As I said, I completely understand”, Riddle smiled. “But you should appreciate your talents, even if you prefer to hide them. How else will you reach your dreams?” he chuckled. “Mr Potter, you should probably be off to class now. Oh, and by the way, our club will take place tonight”, he called after Harry as he turned to leave. “At 7 pm, my office.”

“All right, I’ll be there!” Harry said with a grin. He turned and sped off to the greenhouses, his mood much better now. The conversation with Riddle seemed to have chased all his worries away.

After Herbology, which had gone quite well, Harry received a note from a first-year that said to come to Dumbledore’s office as soon as possible. Harry had no idea what the Headmaster could want with him, but went nonetheless. He showed the nite to his friends, smiled apologetically and sped off towards the stone gargoyle, wishing he could instead spend his free period with his friends.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, realising he hadn’t got the password for the gargoyle that was standing proudly in front of him. How was he supposed to get in? Then Harry looked at the note again.

‘Harry’, it read. ‘Please come to my office as soon as you have some free time on your hands. I believe we have some important things to discuss.

Professor Dumbledore

1. S. I do enjoy Acid Pops’

And then it hit him. “Acid Pops”, Harry said confidently, and the gargoyle let him in. He quickly ascended the stairs and reached the door to Dumbledore’s office, which he opened tentatively after knocking a few times.

No one answered, so Harry walked in carefully, looking around so as not to disturb anyone. But the only living thing present in the office was Fawkes the Phoenix, who was chirping happily beside the desk.

“Hi Fawkes”, Harry cooed. “Long time no see, right?”

Fawkes turned his head and seemed to recognise Harry right away, immediately taking off and landing on Harry’s shoulder instead. He nibbled at his ear, and Harry promptly laughed, stroking the flaming red feathers.

“Ah, Harry, I see you are already here”, the door opened swiftly and soundlessly, and Harry turned around to see Dumbledore enter his office. “And you seem to have taken my phoenix all to yourself”, he smiled lightly, and Harry bit his lip, not knowing how to react.

“Professor, I… Fawkes came to me himself”, he started to explain, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

“Oh, do not bother, Harry”, he waved his hand and gestured to an armchair in front of his desk, sitting himself down in the other. “He does need some company besides the old man he sees every day.”

“You’re not that old, Professor”, Harry protested, petting Fawkes one last time before he flapped his wings again and took off to fly in circles under the ceiling.

“Perhaps you are right, Harry”, Dumbledore sighed. “Or perhaps not. You’re just sixteen, after all… what do you know of age?”

“Sir, why did you call me here?” Harry asked carefully, feeling that Dumbledore was trying to avoid the primary topic. He didn’t know why, but he thought that it was something rather private or dangerous… Harry really hoped it was the first one. But with Dumbledore, you never know…

“Ah yes, Harry”, Dumbledore nodded, pushing a vase with sweets towards him on the table. “Lemon drop?”

“No, thanks, Sir”, Harry refused politely and put his hands in his lap, biting his lip.

“As you wish”, Dumbledore smiled into his beard and crossed his fingers. “So, Harry, how was your first week? Are your classes going fine?”

“Yes, Sir”, Harry said, surprised. Out of all the questions Dumbledore could have asked he chose this one. “Quite nice, actually. I didn’t expect to be able to keep studying Potions, for example”, he admitted.

“Well, you may not be as gifted as your mother, Harry, but you certainly do have a skill to charm people beside your will”, Dumbledore smiled. “And what about Defence Against the Dark Arts? Is everything all right?”

“Yes”, Harry nodded. “I think Professor Riddle is a good teacher. He explains well and he lets us practise… I even was the first to manage a nonverbal spell right!” Harry told Dumbledore, suddenly recalling his morning interaction with Riddle. Pride swirled in him, and Harry couldn’t help but smile. Riddle was proud of him.

“I am glad to hear that”, Dumbledore nodded, his look suddenly calculating. Harry frowned, thinking his words over and trying to find the part he’d said wrong. “Harry, how are the teachers treating you? Professor Snape? Professor Riddle?”

“Fine, actually”, Harry smiled. “Snape finally stopped taking points from me for every single thing I do. And Professor Riddle, well…” Harry paused for a second. “He treats me like everyone else,” he said finally, for some reason not willing to say that they so far had had a few conversations face-to-face, which, as far as Harry knew, happened to no other student at least in his year.

“Professor Snape, Harry”, Dumbledore corrected him softly. “Of course, I am glad to hear everything is going just fine. But tell me, Harry,” his eyes suddenly got that piercing look that Harry had rarely seen before. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

For a split second, Harry contemplated telling Dumbledore about Riddle staring at him all the time and about his eyes flashing red at the feast, but in the end decided not to. “No Sir”, Harry replied, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Dumbledore looked taken aback for a moment, as if he weren’t expecting that answer. He stared at Harry as if he’d grown a second head, and his fingers began to tap at the table. But he composed himself almost immediately and smiled reassuringly, although his body remained tense. “Of course, Harry”, he said finally. “I have heard the rumours about the new club Professor Riddle organised”, he added. “You are a member of it, right?”

“Yes”, Harry nodded. “Tonight is supposed to be our first time.”

“Yes, Professor Riddle came and asked me yesterday evening”, Dumbledore replied. “Good luck, then, Harry, and take care.”

“Thank you, Sir”, Harry smiled and stood up. “Good bye, Professor.”

“Good day to you too, Harry”, Dumbledore’s voice called after him as Harry exited his office.

The impression this conversation left on Harry was sort of ambiguous. On the one hand, Dumbledore seemed quite pleased with everything and, despite asking strange questions, looked satisfied with the answers Harry gave him. On the other hand, though… what was with all these questions? Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something that just seemed off. As if Dumbledore were trying to extract some information from Harry, perhaps something he could not ask directly. Whether he got it or not, remained a secret to Harry, not that he minded though. The Headmaster’s mind was always a mystery to him.

And then there was this bizarre reaction to a seemingly normal phrase. What was wrong about it? Harry could swear Dumbledore had looked like he’d seen a ghost! But that, as always, was the secret of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Harry met up with Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the Common Room. Hermione was reading a book and writing something on a piece of parchment, Ron was busy playing chess with Seamus Finnigan, Harry and Ron’s dorm mate, and Ginny was brushing her hair with a comb.

“Hey guys”, Harry waved. “How is free period going?”

“Productively for me”, Hermione replied. “For Ron, not as much”, she nodded at him, and Harry laughed. “We’re supposed to be doing homework, Ronald!” she slapped him on the head. “Not playing chess!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Ron replied quite phlegmatically. “It’s free period, Hermione, not bloody homework period.”

“And when will you be doing it?” Hermione demanded.

“When fat pigs fly”, Ginny said from her corner, still brushing her hair. “As always.”

Hermione just sighed and shook her head, closing her book. “And you, Harry? What did Professor Dumbledore discuss with you?”

“He’s cryptic as ever”, Harry admitted, making his way towards Hermione and taking a seat next to her, relaxing against the back of the couch. “Asked me about my classes, then about how my teachers treated me. Then told me about Riddle’s club tonight and wished me luck. That’s it”, he finished awkwardly.

“Maybe he just wanted to talk to you?” Ron offered. “Actually no, doesn’t look like him at all.”

“Ron is right”, Hermione nodded. “Harry, what else did he ask you?”

“Nothing really”, Harry shrugged and then lit up. “Oh! Right. So, he asked me how the professors were treating me, and I told him everything was fine. And then he asked me ‘Is there something you wish to tell me?’ So I said ‘No Sir, nothing’, and he looked... strange. I’d say taken aback, as if he’d expected anything but this”.

“Is that the exact wording?” Hermione asked, and Harry nodded. “Interesting. And worrying even. Why would he ask such a thing, it’s as if…” she paused.

“As if?” Harry prompted, raising his eyebrows.

“As if he thinks you’re keeping something important from him”, she said finally.

“Like what?” Harry was surprised. “It’s not like I’m keeping secrets from Dumbledore…”

“Professor Dumbledore, Harry”, Hermione sighed. “Look, I’m not saying that you are. I’m just saying Professor Dumbledore thinks that you are. And that is… weird.”

“Maybe he suspects something is wrong with Harry and Riddle?” asked Ron. “I mean, so far Harry’s probably talked to him more than to us.”

“Don’t be silly, Ron”, Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think Professor Riddle has anything to do with it.”

“He did ask me about him though”, Harry said thoughtfully. “As in, quite directly. He wanted to know how he was treating me.”

“Look”, Ginny interrupted them all of a sudden, looking a bit grim. “Riddle is a good teacher, one of the best we’ve had so far. Maybe he just saw how good Harry is at his subject, there’s no need to suggest that… that…” she trailed off. “That there’s chemistry between them!” she snapped finally.

“But it is quite funny”, Ron protested, laughing. “And there is something anyway, Ginny, wouldn’t you say?”

“Guys”, Harry sighed exasperatedly, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Can you just not… Riddle is just a good teacher of mine, Ginny’s right. Yes we talked a few times, but that doesn’t mean…”

“Ooh, you talked again today?” Ron wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ve seen you two. Managed to cheer you up, didn’t he?”

“Ron!” Hermione put her fist down.

“What?” Ron shrugged. “Every joke’s based on truth”, he laughed, and Ginny suddenly stood up and stormed out of the room.

“What’s got into her?” Harry asked Hermione quietly, who suddenly looked angry.

“You of all people should know…” she gasped for breath. “Just let me finish my homework”, she snapped and picked up her book again. Harry looked at her, then at the door. Had Ron said something?.. Or was it him, Harry? He’d never know. So, Harry got up from the sofa and propped onto the floor where Ron was sitting, watching the chess game in silence. Seamus said nothing, just smirked at him, but that Harry could bear. He just wanted to finally relax and think about something else before it was time for Riddle’s club.

At around 7 pm Harry, Ron, Ginny, Malfoy, Nott, Luna and some other students whom Harry didn’t know were standing next to Riddle’s office. The door was locked, so they couldn’t enter and thus were waiting outside.

“What do you think he’ll be teaching?” asked a girl with long blonde hair.

“I don’t know”, replied a boy her age with fair hair and freckles. “Hopefully something useful.”

Harry noticed that there were students from their 7^th year as well; he didn’t know their names but he knew they were a year older than him. He couldn’t really understand how Riddle pictured his club with students of different ages, but he supposed it wasn’t really his business.

At 7 pm sharp the door opened, and Riddle looked out into the hallway.

“You’re all here already”, he smiled. “Come in, everyone.”

They went inside, and Harry opened his mouth in disbelief. What had been a normal classroom turned into a duelling hall. The desks and chairs were gone, the room itself felt much bigger than it was before, though it could be so due to the absence of furniture. Next to one of the walls there was a long but narrow space which was, Harry presumed, for duelling. It wasn’t elevated they way it used to be in Harry’s second year when Lockhart, one of the worst teachers they’d had, decided to organise a duelling club but in the end, unsurprisingly, taught them absolutely nothing. Other than that, the room was completely empty, and that was good because there were about fifteen people in the group, and they all needed space for training whatever it was going to be.

“Goo evening, everyone”, Riddle greeted them. “Now, tonight I wanted to start with something simple to learn and not very hard to master, but it may prove extremely useful in a battle. Have you heard of the spell ‘Oppugno’?”

Harry shook his head and didn’t speak a word, and all the others remained in silence too.

“No?” Riddle didn’t seem disappointed though. Actually, Harry could tell that his mask was back on, and be didn’t know why, but it bothered him. The fact that he’d seen Riddle smile and act like a normal person made him want to see him like that all the time. But of course, he didn’t know anything about Riddle’s past to demand something from him. “‘Oppugno’ is not a very difficult spell, as I told you, and it is used to direct an object or a few of them at your opponent. This will not disarm them or knock them out, but it will get them confused and distracted for enough time for you to strike them with another spell.

“Now”, Riddle took his wand out and made a sort of flicking motion. “This is the wand movement for the spell. Let us try it all together.”

Harry fumbled for his wand and took it out, repeating the movement promptly. He saw others doing that, too, and wondered what they would be using to practise the spell. It was quite interesting; sending objects at your opponent? What kind of objects? Potentially that spell could do a lot of damage. But Riddle wouldn’t teach them anything particularly dangerous, would he?

“Perfect”, Riddle said, watching them flick their wands again and again. “Now, Mr Weasley, don’t flick it so hard”, he smiled. “It won’t make the spell any more efficient.”

“Thanks, Professor”, said Ron who was standing next to Harry. He then bent over slightly and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Awesome, that one. I’ve never done that before. D’you reckon it helps?”

“No idea”, Harry shrugged. “It’s as much the first time for me as it is for you.”

For another five minutes or so, Riddle watched them flick their wands and corrected the ones who made a mistake. Harry was proud to have made none; his only problem was a tense wrist, Riddle explained, as he took Harry’s wrist in his hand and coaxed it to relax, holding it for a few more seconds to let Harry get used to the new hand position.

“Good”, Riddle stood in front of them again, right about in the centre. “Now”, he waved his wand, and a flock of birds appeared in the air. “Oppugno”, he said, and the birds went flying directly at Ron, who ducked down laughing but it didn’t help him. The birds kept pecking at him and trying to attack him until Riddle vanished the animals with another wave of his wand.

“That was brilliant, Professor”, said Malfoy in his haughty tone. “Can you do that again?”

Harry grit his teeth. Oh how he hated Malfoy! He never missed a chance to say something nasty to Ron.

“I’m afraid, Mr Malfoy, that was the only demonstration you needed. You are all gifted, after all”, said Riddle with a small smile. “Now, you will be divided into pairs, and you will try to conjure some objects and use our new spell to direct them at your opponent. It can be anything, but the spell to conjure the birds is ‘Avis’. No no no”, Riddle shook his head as the students began to assemble themselves into pairs. “I will choose a partner for you.”

Harry looked at Ron who was already pulling him to the side and raised his eyebrows. “Who do you think you’ll be with?” he asked him, smiling slightly.

“I hope not Malfoy”, Ron said sincerely. “And not Nott. Other than that, I’m happy with anyone.”

“Me too,” Harry replied. “By the way, what’s wrong with Ginny?”

Ginny, who was usually loud and fun, stayed quiet the whole meeting, only nodding as she listened to Riddle explain the theory. Riddle was now taking her and the blonde girl Harry had seen before the class to one corner. Luna was paired with the boy who’d replied to her, the one with fair hair, and also a few others whom Harry didn’t know were already coupled.

Ginny turned around as if she’d felt someone stare at her and met Harry’s gaze. She then pursed her lips and looked away, seemingly wounded. Harry had no idea what he’d done, but he made it a point to approach her after class and apologise for whatever it was that made her unhappy. She was Ron’s little sister after all.

“All right, gentlemen”, said Riddle, approaching Harry and Ron. “Mr Weasley, you will be with Mr Nott”, Ron groaned and, as he started off towards an annoyed Nott, whispered to Harry that at least it wasn’t Malfoy. “And you, Mr Potter, will be with Mr…” Riddle took a look around the room. “Mr Malfoy. Mr Malfoy, would you please come over here?”

Malfoy looked positively furious as he staggered towards Harry and stopped some two metres away from him, eyeing Harry with squinted eyes.

“Prepare to lose, Potter”, he drawled. “Or what, scared to fight me?”

“It’s you who should be scared, Malfoy”, Harry said confidently. He remembered blasting Malfoy into Riddle’s door, and a smile crept on his face.

“There’s the spirit”, praised Riddle. “Good luck”.

He walked away without making it clear whom he wished good luck to, but Harry was fairly certain that it wasn’t meant for Malfoy.

Riddle made a sign with his hand, and Harry positioned himself across from Malfoy, wand at the ready, never letting him out of his sight. At the moment Harry couldn’t come up with anything but birds to conjure up, and the spell had seemed pretty quick to him. He didn’t know what Malfoy was going to do, but whatever it was, it required time. Maybe, Harry thought for a second, he could try and cast the spell on whatever Malfoy conjured before Malfoy himself had the chance to? Yes, that was probably a good idea. But would there be time? Would Harry be quick enough?

“Serpensortia!” cried Malfoy, and Harry stepped back slightly, knowing full well what the spell conjured. Not that he was afraid of snakes… once he even set one on his cousin Dudley at the zoo. He had never seen the spell being performed, though, and had no idea whether the snake was exactly as a normal one or whether it obeyed the caster’s commands.

Malfoy looked far too pleased with Harry’s reaction, and before he had the chance to raise his wand again, Harry cried “Oppugno!” directing the spell at the snake, praying it would work.

But when did ever something work for Harry the way he wanted it to?

Obviously, the snake hadn’t moved one centimetre from its original position. However, the spell seemed to have woken it up, or whatever else it was, as it raised its head and looked directly in Harry’s eye. Harry bit his lip, recalling that when he was eleven he was somehow able to make the snake understand him. Later, Harry learnt that children, especially ones who were not trained, had magic outbursts. Perhaps this what what had happened back then? That would make sense. Harry remembered being sort of scared, but at the same time he had felt compassion for the snake, it had been just like him… bred in captivity…

Harry stared at the snake, watching it silently. Suddenly he was aware that the whole movement in the room had stopped, and everyone was looking at him and Malfoy. Malfoy looked a bit confused, but then seemed to regain his composure and shouted “Oppugno!” at the snake. Predictably though, it didn’t move again, however, it was clearly becoming irritated.

“Stay calm”, said Riddle, approaching slowly and calmly. “I’ll get rid of her.”

“Professor, let me…” Malfoy said, but Riddle paid him no attention as he turned to the snake, looking at her as if mesmerised.

“You’re beautiful”, he said suddenly, clearly speaking to the snake. “Such a beautiful girl.”

Harry stared in awe as the snake lifted its body and nodded at Riddle, apparently understanding what he was saying. Had he looked around, he would have noticed shock, even fear on others’ faces. But he didn’t; he, too, was mesmerised, but not by the snake. By Riddle’s voice, which felt like a warm blanket wrapping all around him.

“You will leave the castle, won’t you?” Riddle cooed. Harry would’ve never thought Riddle able to do that. “You will go somewhere you are safe.”

The snake nodded. “I shall do as you say, Speaker.”

With a jolt, Harry realised he understood her.

So this incident at the zoo hadn’t been accidental magic after all? He truly was able to understand snakes? Judging by Riddle’s cooing, he was even speaking to it, and it sounded wonderful. Harry suddenly felt like Riddle, he and the snake were alone in the classroom. There was no one else. And the snake, it did look beautiful; with all of its spots and colours, it resembled the one Harry had met all those years ago. Harry smiled.

“You do look beautiful”, he told the snake almost absentmindedly, suddenly aware of the fact Riddle was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Had he done something bad? “Professor Riddle, I didn’t mean to offend it…” Harry hurried to explain.

“Would you switch to English, please”, Riddle almost hissed. “And you, girl, you’d better get going”, as Riddle went to pick up the snake and put it into the hallway, making his way to the door, Harry just stood there, gaping at him. He wasn’t speaking English? What did that mean?..

“What are you looking at?” Riddle snapped as he closed the door and returned to where Harry was standing. “Get back to training”, he said, softer already. Only then did Harry notice the stares, the shocked faces all around them. Even Malfoy looked taken aback.

“What in Merlin’s Beard was that, Potter?” he managed finally as he took a step back. “What is it with your tricks?!”

“What?” Harry shrugged. “I didn’t do anything…”

“You speak Parseltongue?” came Ron’s strangled voice from the other side of the room. “How come you never told me?”

“Parselwhat?” Harry looked at Riddle for answers, but he just sighed.

“I think I told you to keep training”, Riddle said coldly. “Get to work. I need to have a word with Mr Potter.” And then he looked at Harry, but his eyes were somehow warm. Harry did not expect that.

Slowly Riddle’s words seemed to sink in, and everyone got back to work save for Malfoy, who was left without a partner, and Harry, of course. Riddle pulled him to the side and stared at him for some time before actually speaking.

“Do you know what Parseltongue is?” asked Riddle. Harry shook his head. “This is the language of snakes. Some wizards have the ability to speak to them.”

“But why didn’t I even realise I was speaking a different language?” Harry asked, confused. “Aren’t I supposed to be able to tell the difference?”

“Let me guess”, Riddle smiled a little. “You’ve never spoken to snakes before?”

“Once”, Harry admitted. “Back when I was eleven.”

“See?” Riddle seemed satisfied for a reason unknown to Harry. “You’ve never used that gift so you didn’t realise you had it. It just comes natural to you when you see a snake, the way it does when you use Defensive spells.”

“But why were they all staring?” asked Harry, feeling extremely uncomfortable even remembering all their eyes on him. “Of course, they didn’t know but…”

“You see, Mr Potter, it’s quite a rare gift”, Riddle explained patiently. “In fact, I daresay that we are the only wizards in Britain able to speak to snakes.”

“I don’t understand”, Harry’s eyes widened. Only the two of them… That meant Parseltongue was extremely rare. But… “Why you and I, Professor? Are we connected in some way because we have the same gift?”

“I don’t know, unfortunately”, Riddle shook his head. “But pray tell, Mr Potter, is that important? I am astounded and impressed by you all over again. This gift, it makes you special. Moreover, it opens a whole branch of magic for you, which is called Parselmagic. Wouldn’t you like to learn it?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “A whole branch of magic?”

“Yes”, Riddle smiled. “And it is very powerful.”

“You will teach me?” Harry asked breathlessly. He felt something strange in his chest; it was weird, these feelings were entirely new to him in this particular situation. His breath was hitching from worry and excitement, and his heart was pounding fast. He couldn’t control himself; he did feel shy, but being praised by Riddle of all people made him proud. For the first time in his life, Harry was actually glad he’d attracted somebody’s attention; and he was even gladder this somebody happened to be Riddle whom he thought to be very talented and powerful. Being praised by such a teacher was… worth a lot.

“Of course”, Riddle sent him that warm smile again, and Harry’s stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies, and he was starting to feel dizzy. Harry clenched his fists and then slowly unclenched them, exhaling and trying to contain a wide grin. “We’re similar, Mr Potter. I am special too, you see, although I discovered my ability to speak Parseltongue much earlier, I think I was around six… Are you happy?” he asked.

“Yes”, Harry breathed out, suddenly feeling like a ball of energy and light. He felt so proud, he wanted Riddle’s attention so much… it felt so good. “Yes, I’m happy.”

“Then one day, perhaps, I shall teach you what I know about Parselmagic”, Riddle said and ran his hand over Harry’s shoulder. “The fact that we’re so similar shouldn’t go to waste. I’m so proud of you”, Riddle suddenly whispered, leaning in. “Oh, and one more thing”, he added, pulling away. Harry felt his cheeks glow a bright red colour. “As we have that… connection, whatever it is… would you let me call you Harry?”

With that, Riddle walked away, not awaiting Harry’s response, and left Harry just standing there, mouth open, cheeks red and heart beating fast. This time it was only Malfoy who was looking; but Harry didn’t feel shy anymore, he didn’t want to. Instead, he held his head high as he approached him, wand in hand.

“So, another round, Malfoy?” said Harry, aware of the fact Riddle was watching him. And that wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It just felt… good.

“What do you mean, you had no idea?” Ron had been going on about it during their whole way back. He was kind of mad, and Harry understood why, but what could he say? He really didn’t know.

The rest of the class went well; Malfoy didn’t dare use that snake spell again and attempted to conjure something, but as he kept trying, Harry quickly conjured up a flock of birds and with a quick Oppugno sent them towards Malfoy. The spell didn’t work on all the birds, so Harry had to try again, but some of them managed to reach the target. Malfoy left the lesson with a whole lot of pecks on his face and neck, and Harry with a ball of warm, fuzzy feelings in his heart. Especially because Riddle gave him a wink as Harry exited the classroom and smiled at him. That was all Harry needed to know he’d got it right.

“I really didn’t, Ron”, Harry said with a sigh. “I didn’t even realise I wasn’t speaking English until Riddle pointed it out. It was so weird…” Harry confessed. “Like… like I just wanted the snake to understand me, and it did.”

“That’s just…” Ron was shaking his head, clearly shocked. “I mean… my best friend speaks Parseltongue”, he sighed. “Wow. I never expected that.”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Harry asked carefully. Riddle hadn’t said anything about it, just that it was rare… Well, it could be that he just didn’t know, the way Harry didn’t…

“Wrong with what?” came Hermione’s voice from the Common Room, and Harry realised that in the meantime they had reached their destination. The portrait was wide open, and Hermione Granger was standing in the middle of it, looking slightly annoyed.

“Come in, I’ll tell you”, Ron seemed to be still in shock. “‘Mione, this is just… You aren’t going to believe this.”

“Let’s sit down”, Harry suggested peacefully. “Come on, let’s really go in and…”

He was interrupted by Ginny who suddenly pushed past him and strode into the Common Room, sitting down by the fireplace and looking quite grim.

Hermione turned around to look at her, then turned her gaze back to Harry, who just shrugged. “Come on”, he said, going inside too and settling on his favourite couch. Ron and Hermione sat beside him, finally closing the door. Ron looked at Harry, then at Ginny, then shrugged and just shook his head.

“I presume something happened?” Hermione sighed. “During Professor Riddle’s class.” Harry nodded. “So, what was it?”

“Harry speaks Parseltongue”, Ron blurted out, as if unable to contain himself. “And Riddle does, too.”

Hermione seemed so taken aback that she didn’t even correct Ron when he didn’t use the word ‘Professor’. “What?” she whispered.

“I don’t understand”, Harry clasped his hands together. He really couldn’t see where this reaction was coming from. Well, it was a rare gift; so what? There had to be many rare gifts, why was this one so particular? It didn’t seem so bad… Riddle even said it made him, Harry, special and just like him. “Why do you all react to it like that? Is there something wrong with it?”

“Not particularly”, Hermione seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Did Professor Riddle explain to you, err, who can speak Parseltongue?”

“Well, he did say it was rare”, Harry told her. “And he told me that it was likely that only the two of us in Britain spoke it.” A loud sigh came from where Ginny was sitting; Ron stood up and rushed to his sister to comfort her. Harry shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know what was wrong with Ginny that year.

“He didn’t tell you?” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Well, this is strange… The thing is, Harry, that, um…” she seemed at a loss for words. “I uh…”

“Yes?” Harry prompted.

“What do you know about Salazar Slytherin?” she asked finally.

“Well…” Harry paused. That was a strange question. “Err, a thousand years ago four founders, Slytherin among them, founded Hogwarts. Each of them gave a name to a House the children would be sorted into. That’s it?” he finished weakly.

“Well, it is pretty much it”, Hermione admitted. “Although it is quite a short story coming from you. But the thing you missed is that Slytherin could speak to snakes. He was the only one in his time”, Hermione pressed on. “And this gift, you see, it’s passed down genetically.”

This left Harry speechless.

“So you mean to say that I… I am…” now it was his turn to be at a loss for words.

“You must be his descendant, yes”, Hermione sighed and patted his shoulder. “I really don’t know what to say, Harry. But he lived a thousand years ago, everything is possible.”

“So Riddle and I…” Harry paused. “Doesn’t it mean we’re related?”

“Perhaps you aren’t, if we take ‘related’ in today’s sense”, said Hermione. “But you do have to both be descendants of Salazar Slytherin. I can research his bloodline, if you like…” she offered.

“No, thanks, Hermione”, Harry sighed and turned away, biting his lip. “I don’t want to know. It’s just… a bit too much, okay? I’ll be fine but… later.”

“Harry, I…” Hermione suddenly wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. But you should know that this doesn’t make any difference to us who your ancestor is”, she whispered. “You’re just Harry, okay? And we still love you. And the gift, well…” she paused. “I mean, it sure can’t be that bad that you speak to snakes?”

That cheered Harry up a little. “Thanks”, he smiled. “Riddle said something similar.”

“You do seem to be engaging a lot with Professor Riddle”, Hermione sounded thoughtful. “But I think that’s a good thing. At least you’ll have a reason to read more”, she laughed, and Harry laughed quietly with her. Salazar Slytherin seemed far away now, and he didn’t matter. What mattered was that Hermione wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Ron, and they were still friends. And that Riddle wanted to call him Harry. That, contrary to common sense, felt the most important of all.

The next few weeks passed without any incidents. Fortunately, Riddle didn’t stop teaching his private classes because of what had happened during the first one like Lockhart had done all those years ago. Actually, a few girls Harry didn’t know found Riddle all the more interesting after that; but mostly, the attitude to him stayed the same. Riddle taught them a lot of useful spells, and every time they learnt a new one he made them practise it until everyone got it right. Harry was impressed by his teaching abilities, because most of the time he didn’t even need to explain the spell twice.

During their regular classes everything stayed pretty much the same. They didn’t discuss neither the club nor the spells he’d taught them separately in them, so they just went with the study programme, as far as Harry could tell, at least. Hermione was the only one, apart from Malfoy, for some reason, who left Defence classes with a frown on her face; probably because she wasn’t the best of the best anymore. It was true that her grades didn’t plummet in Riddle’s subject, but she got praised much rarer than Harry who was better at practice. Harry though felt himself accelerate quickly. With a good teacher, he could finally develop his abilities the way he should have been doing all those years. Hermione did admit that Riddle was a very professional teacher, and she liked his classes, though not Riddle himself. She didn’t show it, but Harry could clearly see Hermione didn’t like him very much.

Harry was more indulged in Defence than ever. It had always been his favourite subject, but now, with Riddle as his teacher, he wanted to learn as much as possible. To Hermione’s great surprise and approval and Ron’s shock he started spending most of his free time in the library; sometimes he was joined by Riddle who casually sat down next to him and looked through the books Harry was reading. Harry was trying to learn as much as possible to impress him, and soon he had as much theory knowledge in Defence as perhaps Hermione. The only difference was that Harry didn’t care for other subjects, not really. He did his homework for them as quickly as possible, everything else simply didn’t interest him that much. And slowly, but surely Harry was becoming the best of the best at Defence.

Sometimes during his library visits he and Riddle talked. They never talked about personal matters, usually just school stuff and likewise. Sometimes Harry shared funny experiences with him, the ones that happened with other Defence teachers. He saw Riddle fume when he heard about Umbridge and Lockhart; he said that Dumbledore was a fool to hire them. Harry answered that Dumbledore was no fool, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t understand why on earth would the Headmaster hire Umbridge or Lockhart of all people. Where was Riddle anyway?

Riddle was, apparently, travelling. He’d mentioned it a couple of times, saying that he’d learnt a great deal during his travels. Harry nodded appreciatively, and then asked where he’d been. It turned out Riddle had been practically everywhere, indulging in magic Harry’d never even heard of before. He was fascinated and intrigued, making it a point to ask more about these spells sometime later.

Also, Riddle kept calling him Harry, especially when they were alone, and that was… worrying. Because the reaction Harry had every single time was new to him. He had these butterflies in his chest, stomach, head – everywhere. Riddle for sure didn’t mean for Harry to react that way, but the thing was that he did anyway, and there was nothing he could do about it. What could he do, ask him to stop? That would just look strange… Harry also blushed when Riddle moved closer to him, and usually Harry hurried to move away, because the tension between them in these moments was unbearable.

Harry was also keen on impressing Riddle. The smile he got every single time he achieved something made something warm and fuzzy stir in Harry’s chest, and he found it pleasant when Riddle complimented him. For the first time in his life, Harry actually worked to get attention. Riddle’s attention. His eyes on Harry, his smile, his nice words were all Harry needed as praise for what he achieved. And at some point… not only that became important. Also the fact that Riddle praised him, Harry, of all people. Harry finally found a way to impress someone without it being related to his name or scar, and that just felt so good. Being praised. Being given attention. Being offered special treatment. Being called Harry by a professor who never, ever used first names with anyone. And, of course, the fact that Riddle was the one doing all these things played the most important part.

“You just want his attention”, Ron had laughed once. “See? I’ve been right all along.”

Harry doubted Ron was right about the chemistry between the two of them, but the part about attention was essentially true, however hard Harry tried to cast that thought away. He’d laughed it off back then, but this idea kept coming back. Harry wanted Riddle’s attention. What did that mean?

It was Friday, and therefore, the day of the club. It was quite dark outside; the days were already significantly shorter than before. It was raining, and the cold water drops hit the roof and the windows of the castle as Harry, Ron and Ginny made their way to Riddle’s classroom. Harry tried to move away from them discreetly, as he didn’t particularly want to be around Ginny. He just didn’t know how to treat her anymore; he was utterly confused. At first she was this shy little girl who ran away every time she saw Harry; then she turned into this bold and funny teenager Harry enjoyed hanging out with. And now? Now she was constantly snapping at him and being all moody in general. They talked normally a few times, but as they interacted in Riddle’s class Ginny became irritated again. Her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, had no idea what to do; he, for some reason, believed it was his fault. He tried to treat Ginny nicely, but she only seemed to get more and more irritated.

Harry looked out of the window as they approached their destination; it was already so dark Harry couldn’t make out anything except for the lights in Hagrid’s hut. All of a sudden, Harry thought he saw a snowflake flying by; but it couldn’t be. It was so early in the year, snow wasn’t supposed to be falling yet. And yet… Harry knew what he’d seen. It surprised him, but no other snowflakes appeared, and he decided to let it go.

Then Riddle’s classroom door opened, and Riddle invited them all in with a smile. Harry walked through the door happily, greeting Riddle as he nodded to him. “Good luck today, Harry”, he whispered in Parseltongue, and Harry shivered a bit. That was another thing they’d taken to doing; upon realising that it was indeed only their language Riddle started using it in his club to talk to Harry personally; Harry was at first sceptical, as he didn’t really like the idea of using Salazar Slytherin’s language to communicate, but the serpent’s tongue sent shivers down his spine, and then there was this red flame in Riddle’s eyes when he used it… Harry had taken to reply only when necessary; well, Riddle wasn’t abusing that ability either, but still. He used it whenever he deemed it necessary and made Harry shudder due to the number of butterflies in his body. Everywhere.

Harry then understood why he’d wished him good luck. Riddle made everyone stand in line and announced, “Tonight we will not learn any new spells. I believe that you all know enough now to try yourselves at a duel; of course, you will be duelling with each other. You are allowed to use any spells, both the ones you learnt here or in class with me. The duel ends when one of the opponents is unable to strike back.”

Harry bit his lip. That he could do. He felt pretty confident, but worry was stirring somewhere in his chest. Who would Riddle put him against? Usually, during their club sessions, Harry duelled with Malfoy, sometimes with Nott. He’d already learnt their strategies and would win easily against either, especially with all those new spells he’d found in the library but never used. He hoped Riddle would put him against one of them, but all his hopes were shattered as Harry was called forward.

“Mr Potter and Mr Quicksilver, here, please”, announced Riddle as Harry stared at the wall in shock. Taurus Quicksilver was a Ravenclaw seventh year student who, as far as Harry knew, came from a Muggle family but had a wizard relative or something as he once said he’d received training before Hogwarts.

Harry and Quicksilver positioned themselves across from each other, wands at the ready. Quicksilver seemed quite relaxed, as his wand arm wasn’t tense at all. Instead, he was acting as if he weren’t worried at all. Perhaps he wasn’t; maybe he thought Harry was no match for him. But Riddle had put them together; why? Harry doubted that he’d do that to humiliate Harry with a two-second defeat. So perhaps… perhaps he thought that Harry was able to win the duel? Well, he could at least try, Harry fathomed as he inhaled deeply to calm himself down. He was ready.

Quicksilver was the first to attack. “Stupefy!” he shouted, and Harry ducked, sending a “Stupefy!” his way too. Quicksilver cast a Shielding Charm that Harry didn’t recognise, and the spell rebounded very fast, aiming directly at Harry. So Harry ducked again, not risking to use his powers on a shield, instead he attempted to get Quicksilver with a quick “Muffliato!”, but he was sadly too slow.

Quicksilver was indeed acting his name; he was incredibly fast, and he was brutal. He had no elegance like Nott, for example, he just showered Harry with spells constantly, apparently trying to tire him as much as possible. Eventually Harry had to give up on the idea of saving powers and cast a Protego shield as strong as he could make, hoping it would give him at least a two-second break. But Harry quickly realised the downside of this idea; to attack, he’d need to take the shield down. But if he never attacked, how was he supposed to win?

Thoughts swirled in Harry’s mind as he finally dared to let go of his shield and attack again. This time, he shouted “Expulso!” which was a spell he’d read about in a book. It wasn’t particularly strong but it was stronger than Stupefy, for example, and it could be a potential advantage. To Harry’s surprise, Quicksilver didn’t conjure up another shield, instead he ducked out of the curse’s way, much like Harry had in the beginning of their duel. So Harry took advantage of it and fired two more, in hopes that at least one would get him. But Quicksilver seemed to have regained himself and cast a shield, then suddenly taking it down and launching a surprise attack. He was powerful. And he was skilled. Extremely, Harry thought as he cast yet another shield. How on earth was he supposed to win against this one?

Then an idea struck Harry. He ducked away from another curse, lowering himself on the floor as low as possible, knowing full well that the lighting was bad when it came to illuminating the floor for some reason. He was hoping that Quicksilver would think he was still under a protective shield when instead he’d take it down and fire a surprise attack. So Harry knelt down, holding the shield in place for now, and then suddenly letting go and pointing his wand at Quicksilver.

“Confringo!” he shouted, all of a sudden recalling that spell from a book he’d read at some point. The book said it was another blasting curse, but much more powerful than most, if not all, others. He’d never used it before so he didn’t know what effect it would have. It was astounding; Quicksilver, who, as predicted, didn’t expect the attack, failed to cast a shield or duck, and was blasted all the way across the room, hitting the opposite wall and then sliding down on to the floor. Harry stood up, breathless and sweaty, and put his fist in the air. He won.

But then, as he took a glance at Quicksilver who wasn’t moving, Harry’s heart filled with dread. He rushed towards him, grasping his wrist and feeling the pulse. This made Harry relax; the pulse was still there, and it seemed pretty normal. But he wouldn’t wake up; why wasn’t he waking?

“He’s unconscious”, said Riddle as he approached them and sat down on the floor as well. “Ennervate!” he pointed his wand at Quicksilver, who then opened his eyes and then rubbed his temples.

“My head hurts”, he told them. “Damn it, Potter, you’re the one I least expected something like that from.”

“What? What did I do?” Harry turned to Riddle, who just smiled warmly and caressed his shoulder lightly.

“I will explain later, if you wish”, he said and then turned to Quicksilver. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Quicksilver attempted to sit up and did, but with reasonable difficulty. “Everything hurts”, he said. “But I’ll be fine. Been there, done that, as they say”, he tried to smile but only managed a weak grin.

“Harry, what was that?” a screech came from the other side of the room. “You used a curse like that?” It was Ginny Weasley; she was the one screaming. Harry turned to face her, but didn’t get up from the floor.

“Maybe I did”, he said, irritated. “I don’t understand. It’s not an Unforgivable, it didn’t harm my opponent bad enough for him to go to the Hospital Wing. I really don’t understand what…”

“You don’t even know what you used?” Ginny gaped at him. “Harry, Merlin, I care about you, I… I…” she paused, trying to get some air. “I don’t want you to use such spells! I’m worried for you! I’ll tell Hermione!”

“I… Can you explain?” Harry asked, getting a bit hysterical himself. His heart was beating fast; was it really wrong? Had he really used something bad? Something he wasn’t supposed to know perhaps? “I really want to understand, but I can’t…”

“Enough”, said Riddle suddenly, rising to his feet, and then Harry felt the same dark aura he’d felt on his very first day at Hogwarts. Riddle had been staring at him, and his aura had been… worrying. Even a bit scary. It had sent shivers down Harry’s spine. Now, though, it didn’t seem to be directed at him, instead Riddle just seemed to have surrounded himself with it to get what he wanted. He rarely did it; so it had to be something crucial. “I think this is enough for today”, he said softly, contrary to the aura around him. “You all did well, I’m very proud of all of you. You are learning quickly, and I am happy to see you progress. But I am afraid that we should end today’s class here; do not worry, the next class will happen as scheduled. Goodbye, and I will see you next time.”

The students were still standing there, most of them looking at Harry where he was still sitting next to a grumbling Quicksilver. But then Riddle took one step forward, and they seemed to get the hint, leaving the classroom. Now Harry, Riddle and Quicksilver were alone.

“Will he be fine?” Harry asked worriedly, looking at Riddle. “I mean, I didn’t want to hurt him, but I did blast him quite hard against the wall…”

“I’m sure he will”, Riddle turned around with a smile, already his usual self, and Harry relaxed a bit, too. “Mr Quicksilver, are you sure you do not need medical help?” Riddle looked concerned as he bent down to where Quicksilver was sitting.

“Yes, Professor… I mean no, I don’t need any”, he corrected himself hurriedly, shooting Harry a worried glance. “You know what, I will go back to my dorm. My head hurts, but it will be fine. Goodbye, Professor Riddle”, he said, staggering to his feet and slowly making his way to the exit. He opened the door and then closed it behind himself, leaving Harry and Riddle alone.

Harry blushed. Staying behind felt so natural; after all, he’d been doing it nearly every time. But tonight, something was different, and there was this weird feeling again in Harry’s stomach and in his head. He felt dizzy even though he wasn’t the one to have been blasted against a wall, and his dizziness felt different. It was… something else. And, as Riddle approached and knelt back down onto the floor, Harry felt heat rush to his face and, well… practically everywhere. He was like a big hot balloon ready to pop at any moment.

Riddle’s eyes were now hungry; he must have held his emotions back when the others had been present, but now he didn’t have to, so he… he looked at Harry with this unmistakeable hunger in his eyes as he spoke quietly and hotly, “You did marvellously today, Harry. You should be very, very proud of yourself. See, we make a great duet when it comes to Defence Against The Dark Arts.”

Harry swallowed. He knew that power that was coming in waves from Riddle now; it was the same dark aura he’d used earlier tonight. But now it was not the same; it wasn’t repulsive. Instead, it felt warm as it engulfed Harry, and he felt an irrational desire to come closer, to press himself into Riddle’s arms and to merge with him into one. Harry had no idea whether it was even possible, but he wanted it. So. Much.

Riddle smirked and continued, “You see, Harry, how much you can do. That spell you used, it was… a dark spell.” Harry gasped, desperate for air. On the one hand, it scared him; a dark spell? Was he kidding? It couldn’t have been in an ordinary book, right? But on the other hand, Riddle’s voice made it sound so… enticing. And Harry remembered what he’d felt when he won. This feeling of victory, the sheer pride, the glee that he’d defeated such an opponent… And Riddle. Harry’d bet anything that the hungry look in his eyes was all because of what he, Harry, had done. And Riddle wasn’t that easily shaken.

“A dark spell?” Harry whispered, voice betraying him. “But how…”

“Yes, it was dark”, Riddle said, now getting closer. “Not everyone can use it with such ease, you see. You looked so… natural while doing this. I was very, very impressed, Harry.”

His name coming from Riddle’s lips… If Harry hadn’t been dizzy before, he certainly was now. “But I don’t want to use Dark Magic”, he protested weakly. “I’m not a Dark Wizard…”

“Of course not”, Riddle laughed lowly and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder again, this time sliding it down to his elbow and then letting it rest on his back. “Who told you that? Ms Weasley? She doesn’t understand… You see, Harry, true magic knows no dark and light. The only difference is your intention. When you duel, you want to disarm your opponent, so you did. Why does it matter what spell you used for it?”

“But he was blasted against the wall”, Harry was practically out of breath. Riddle’s hand on his back felt unbearably hot, and it sent shivers down his whole body. “I could have killed him.”

“No”, Riddle smiled darkly. “You’re simply not used to these kinds of spells. Your performance was marvellous, but you need training… in this particular area. You would not have killed him with such a spell, of course, and he left unharmed. You saw him, he just got a little headache.”

Yes, Harry recalled that. He was so scared he’d done something bad, and then the pulse was there, and Quicksilver woke up so easily… Yes. How could a spell be dark and harmful if it didn’t do anything bad? Petrificus Totalus and Stupefy worked the same way, after all, and they’d learnt how to use them…

“Don’t be afraid of dark spells, Harry”, Riddle coaxed him upwards, leaning in slightly. “They may have any effect you wish. Even the worst of the worst, Avada Kedavra, was once used as a healing spell which people took advantage of later. People are evil, not magic”, he said as he looked directly into Harry’s eyes. “In magic, there’s only power. This is one of, if not the most important thing I’ve learnt while travelling. Do you understand me, Harry?”

“Yes, I… I understand”, Harry nodded, mesmerised by the gaze. “I think you’re right, Professor Riddle…”

“Oh, call me Tom when we’re alone”, Riddle said lowly. “You have the… predisposition. I would very much like it if you were to be taught”, he said. “Privately.”

“Privately?” Harry whispered. “With you?” He sincerely hoped he hadn’t got it wrong.

“Yes, who else would do it?” Riddle smiled darkly. “I believe I have many things to teach you that… even those gifted students don’t understand. You saw how Ms Weasley reacted tonight. Would you like to learn a bit of Dark Magic too? Remember, only the intention matters.”

“I… I don’t know…” Harry said honestly. “Frankly speaking, I’m still a bit horrified… but… but maybe it really isn’t as bad as it seems?”

“You’re a very good person”, Riddle told him. “Very good, Harry. I sincerely doubt there is any spell that could make you evil. Remember; it is just power. Don’t you want to learn more, to develop? I am simply afraid that staying within the Hogwarts curriculum you will never reach what you can truly be.”

“I would like that”, Harry nodded, still breathless. “I want you to teach me, Professor”.

“Tom, remember? There’s no need for formalities when we’re alone. Aren’t we friends?” Riddle… no, Tom smiled again. “We will meet later, Harry. We are so different, yet so similar; together, we can do much more than you could ever imagine.”

“Of course”, Harry said with a small smile. Yes, he’d like that. “When do we start?”

“Monday, if you don’t mind”, Tom smiled back at him. “Now you’d better go off to bed, or your friends might get worried.”

Harry didn’t really want to go; he wanted to stay with… Tom. It was so strange to call a teacher by his name; and yet, with Tom it felt natural as everything else. In fact, it felt perfectly fine. Harry was still a bit shaken from the experience with this dark spell, but Tom had reassured him it was all right. Harry had no reason not to trust him… Plus, it had felt so good to use it. He really didn’t feel any darker; he just felt more powerful. So Harry guessed it really was fine. Tom walked him to the door, saying his goodbyes and then looking at Harry with that huger in his eyes again. He looked as if he wanted to do something, but in the end apparently decided not to and just placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder the way he always did. Harry leaned into the touch and then felt his body heating up again; so he hastily said goodbye and rushed out, butterflies in his stomach. Doing magic felt good and powerful. Being with Tom felt even better. It was like Harry had finally found a piece of his soul that had been missing.

On Saturday morning Harry woke up quite late. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, sitting up and blinking at Ron who was standing beside his bed.

“Ron?” Harry asked, confused. “What’s up?”

“Mate, I think we really need to talk”, Ron said. “After what happened yesterday…”

“Yesterday?” Harry rubbed his temples, trying to recall last night’s events. He could remember the club, his duel with Quicksilver, and then Tom… Tom… “What happened?”

“You don’t even remember?” Ron asked stiffly. “The spell you used, mate. We’re worried about you.”

“I… okay”, Harry said finally, climbing out of bed. “Just let me get dressed? It won’t take long.”

Ron just nodded, and Harry thanked Merlin for that. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, still yawning and washing his face instead of taking a shower. Harry had never seen Ron this serious; something had to be up. Harry knew what to say regardless of what they asked him; he didn’t want to quarrel with Ron and Hermione, he just wanted them to understand.

Harry brushed his teeth and changed into a jumper and jeans, as there were no classes on Saturday. He’d probably go to the library to read later, but at least he could wear what he wanted.

When Harry came back to his dorm room, he found Hermione there; she must have entered while Harry was still in the bathroom. He smiled at her and gave a tentative wave, but Hermione just shook her head sternly, showing him a book. A book where Harry had found last night’s spell.

“So you wanted to talk to me…” he trailed off. “Well, why don’t you start then?”

Hermione sighed, opening the book. “See here, Harry”, she pointed to one of the lines. “Ron and Ginny told me you had used the Confringo spell the previous night. I managed to find it in the library, and as you can see, it is clearly marked as dark”, Hermione pointed at the corresponding word in the book. “I wonder how you never noticed this?”

“I guess I didn’t pay attention”, Harry bowed his head. “I was just looking for some useful duelling spells, you see, and this one seemed like it could do some good. And I won, didn’t I?” he smiled weakly.

“Yes you did, but at what cost?” Hermione snapped. “Blasting people against the walls is not a good idea, Harry! You could have killed or at least severely injured him! And you didn’t even care?!”

“I… I thought of that”, Harry admitted. “Last night. When he slumped down onto the floor, I was so scared… I immediately ran to check his pulse. But he was alive, wasn’t he? It was safe anyway, wasn’t it, do you think err… Riddle would let anyone be injured in his classroom?”

“I don’t know what to think, Harry”, Hermione pursed her lips together. “I really don’t. You’re changing, can’t you see that? This year there’s something different about you. And Professor Riddle… well, he’s as mysterious as his surname suggests. I think he’s influencing you, Harry.”

“What?” Harry stood up, outraged. “He is not! The fact that I’m a little closer with him than with the other professors doesn’t give you a right to say that… that… So you’re saying Dumbledore is also influencing me? I’m close with him, too!”

“Harry, mate, it was just a theory”, Ron patted his arm. “But it’s getting out of hand. We’re worried about you. You spend so much time with Riddle. Do you think we haven’t noticed that you stay behind with him every time?”

“We talk!” Harry spread his arms, getting irritated. “Believe it or not, Riddle is fun to talk to! He knows a lot! And he tells me many things…”

“Only talk?” Ron arched his brow. Hermione looked outraged now, “Ronald! We talked about this!”

“What?” Harry frowned, but then he understood. “No!” He blushed crimson and slumped back down onto the bed, hiding his face in his hands. “Absolutely not!”

“Your face suggests a different answer”, remarked Hermione darkly. “But I don’t believe in it. However, I know what I see. Harry, you’re changing. And we don’t know what you’re becoming… It scares us…” she whispered.

Harry threw his arms around her. “Hermione, is this you? You told me a few weeks ago you didn’t care whether I was Slytherin’s descendant or not! Well I think it’s worse than using a single spell that brought no harm!”

“No harm?” Ron choked. “He literally flew all the way across the room, mate!”

“Confringo is a dark spell”, said Hermione firmly, freeing herself from Harry’s hold. “I don’t want to see you ever use it or another dark spell again. In fact, I would rather like it if you were to stop attending Professor Riddle’s club. It’s affecting you, and clearly in a bad way.”

“I’m going to, actually,” Hermione’s face lit up, but then Harry continued happily, “In fact, last night he offered me private classes.”

“What? Last night?” Hermione looked shocked. “Harry- no! You can’t! Don’t you see? The moment you used a dark spell he tried to isolate you from others! Let me guess, he told you Dark Magic was good?”

“No, he didn’t”, Harry protested. He was getting angrier by the minute. “He told me the type of spell didn’t matter, that it was the intention that did.”

“I like this Riddle less and less”, Ron said, fuming. “Harry, he’s a good teacher, but he’s got his eye set on you or something. Hell, sometimes you talk to me and I think I hear Riddle’s intonation. You’ve never been so isolated before!” he threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. “Why do you let him do this?”

“Do what?” Harry grit his teeth. He didn’t want to quarrel with Ron and Hermione, but this was getting out of hand. Could it possibly be true, what they were saying? Harry did feel it; he felt himself changing, and he didn’t know where this was going. He himself was sometimes shocked when he did something he wasn’t used to doing. Harry felt something stir inside him; these were his friends. He’d known them for the past five years, and they had never separated before. But it seemed that their trio was falling apart slowly; Hermione was sulking when she learnt that she was the only one of them not invited to Riddle’s club, Harry was slowly drifting away from them… He did feel it. He was indeed distancing himself, whether consciously or not. And that scared him, he didn’t like that. But…

On the contrary, what had Tom ever done? He was nothing but kind to Harry. He was the only one who called him special because of what he, Harry, could do, not because of his scar. Harry didn’t fool himself; he knew Ron only sat with him because he was Harry Potter. They only became true friends later. But how had it started? With Tom, it was different. He didn’t care about Harry’s scar or his heroic past, it seemed; he only saw his abilities, his talent… him. They talked a lot, sometimes, though rarely, about private things. Tom understood him like no one else. And wasn’t it natural for people to change?..

“Harry”, Hermione’s stern voice came right next to his ear. “Do you hear me? I want you to go to Professor Riddle and tell him you won’t attend his private classes.”

“And why should I do that?” Harry asked suddenly. “Hermione, have I ever told you to leave your books alone and go have fun with us? Ron, have I ever told you to stop playing Quidditch because you weren’t good enough? No!” He really tried not to raise his voice, but failed. “I love the way you’re smart, Hermione, and I’d never make you give up reading, no matter how much I complain about it! Ron, and you? I helped you join the team, I trained with you, I helped you get better at it! I did it because you’re my friends, and I want you to do what you really like! So why should I drop my classes because you want me to? I really enjoy them, I’m getting better, I’m developing my talent! T… Riddle is a good teacher for me! So why should I stop my classes?”

“Harry would never say that”, whispered Hermione. “Our Harry doesn’t talk like that. Oh my god, what have you done?”

“Guys, you done screaming or whatever you’re doing?” It was Seamus from behind the door. Right; Ron and Hermione must have sent them out. “We’re going to Hogsmeade in half an hour, remember?”

“Mate?” Ron’s eyes looked hopeful. “Are you coming with us? Forget what we just said, let’s go drink a Butterbeer and…”

Harry sighed, clenching his fists. Sure, he wanted to go, but right now… oh he was so mad. “No, Ron. I’m sorry, I want to be alone for a while.”

“Harry!” he screeched. “Mate! What’s crawled up your arse and died? Come on, let’s just forget all that and…”

“I’m sorry, guys”, Harry sighed. He really was sorry, but right now he just couldn’t bear going with them. “But I need some alone time. See you later.”

And without saying another word, Harry walked out of his dorm room. He did need some time alone.

Harry walked across the grounds, pondering whether he should visit Hagrid or not, but eventually decided not to. So he turned around mid-way and started walking back slowly, throwing his head back and letting the wind play with his hair. The weather was quite nice after yesterday’s showers; the faint autumn sun was shining, there were no clouds in the sky, but it was windy, and that wind was very cold. Harry shivered; he hadn’t put on his scarf before going outside, and that had clearly been a mistake. He’d wasted no time in staying in his dorm because he didn’t want to meet up with Ron and Hermione again, and going back now seemed kind of stupid. Instead, Harry pulled his jacket tighter around himself and turned away from Hogwarts, going towards the Quidditch pitch. He just wandered and wandered, listening to dried grass snapping under his feet and to the gusts of a cold northern wind.

Harry actually regretted everything he’d said now. He wished he could’ve avoided that fight, and he knew that this evening he’d have to apologise because it was his fault. Why had he screamed at his friends? It wasn’t right… Well, Harry still believed they were wrong to accuse Tom and him of something. But it still wasn’t reason enough to quarrel with them! Harry didn’t know how he was going to ask for forgiveness, but he had to. Harry also knew, however, that he wasn’t going to give in. Waste his talent and say no? How could he? No, that wasn’t right either. Harry had to explain it to them somehow, because he wasn’t going to give his lessons up, not after what he’d already achieved.

Harry dropped down to the ground, making himself comfortable near a tree that had been warmed up by the autumn sun. He wrapped his jacket around his knees and put his head against the tree, looking up and tracing the shape of tree leaves that he could see. It was quite a sight; bright gold, red, and orange leaves looked picture perfect surrounded by the light blue of the sky. They looked almost painted on, and Harry wished he could take a picture of them somehow…

“Aren’t you cold, Harry?” came a quiet familiar voice from the side, and Harry turned around to see Tom standing next to another tree. “You’re shivering.”

“A bit”, Harry admitted. “I left my scarf in my dormitory.”

Actually, Tom looked like he’d run out of his room like Harry had; he, too, was wearing only a light jacket and a light jumper underneath. Well, at least he wasn’t freezing…

“I doubt a scarf would save you, Harry”, Tom laughed and pulled out his wand, casting an unfamiliar spell. “This will keep you warm, Harry”, and it did. Harry immediately felt the biting cold go away and relaxed, finally getting the chance to warm up. “Would you mind if I sit?” Tom asked, and Harry shook his head, smiling slightly.

“No, not at all”, he told him, and Tom sat down next to him, just mere centimetres away. They weren’t touching, but Harry was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Surprisingly, he felt completely comfortable.

“So, what brings you here?” Tom asked politely, tucking his wand back in his jacket. “Why aren’t you in Hogsmeade with the other students?”

“I had a fight with my friends”, Harry admitted, lowering his head. “I uh… I said a few nasty things and they did too and… I thought I needed some alone time. To think.”

“What happened?” Tom sounded concerned.

“Well…” Harry didn’t know whether to tell him or not, Tom was close to him but it still felt kind of very private. “They said that…” he paused. “I was changing. And they didn’t like it. So they said that they wanted me to stop… doing the thing that’s changing me.” Technically, it was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth, that Harry couldn’t share. He felt the weight of immense blame on himself and didn’t really want to talk about it.

Tom seemed to understand. “I see”, he was sympathetic. “Do you want to apologise or wait until they do?”

“I will”, Harry said quickly. “I shouldn’t have shouted. It’s my fault.”

“I don’t see how any of it is your fault”, said Tom softly. “They told you to stop doing something, right? Something that you like doing, I assume. Why would you do that?”

“That’s what I said”, Harry sighed. “You see, Tom, I still think I’m right, I just want to say sorry for shouting. That was wrong… they’re my friends, my only family after all… It won’t do to treat them like that.”

“Harry”, a warm arm snaked around his shoulders. “Don’t be so upset. Your friends will come back, you will apologise and talk to them”, Tom said quietly, pulling Harry closer. “Come on. We all fight, it’s natural to fight with your friends. I know all too well how you feel. Now don’t be so sad and tell me something.”

Harry snuggled closer into Tom’s side, exhaling and relaxing against him, going almost completely limp. Tom was warm, and he smelt nice. He smelt of flowers and autumn air. Harry hand never hugged someone so intimately before; but well, there’s always a first time. Harry felt a tiny bit embarrassed, but the comfort, the relaxation Tom’s arm gave him was much stronger. “What should I tell you, Tom?” he muttered sleepily.

“Something about your family, perhaps?” Tom said quietly. “I do wonder sometimes where this power of yours came from… Perhaps it runs in the family?”

“Oh, that’s highly unlikely”, Harry laughed darkly. “My parents died when I was just a year old. I barely know them, only from other people’s tales, so I can’t tell you anything about them.”

“I believe it was a dark wizard who killed them?” Tom asked, and a strange red gleam flickered in his eyes.

Harry nodded. “Everyone knows the story, Tom”, he said, bewildered. “There was this wizard whose name was Voldemort, and he wanted to kill my parents and me… So he came and killed them, but then the curse rebounded and gave me that scar”, Harry shuffled in Tom’s hold and pushed his hair from his forehead, showing Tom his scar. “How come you don’t know this?”

“I am indeed familiar with other people speaking about it, but I’m afraid I wasn’t in Britain when this happened”, said Tom, running his fingers across Harry’s scar. “And anyway, I’d much rather hear the story from you as that little boy who survived the Killing Curse.”

“Dumbledore said my mother’s love had saved me”, Harry told Tom, getting comfortable again. “She loved me so much that she begged Voldemort not to kill me and take her life instead…”

“A willing sacrifice”, Tom nodded. “I should have known”, he said quietly, so quietly that Harry almost thought he had misheard. “That is fascinating, Harry. I mean, of course, I’m sorry that your parents died…”

“It’s nothing”, Harry reassured him. “I guess I learnt to cope with it. You see, Tom, I’ve only ever known them from other people’s stories… Of course, I want to see them but… but my friends here, at Hogwarts, are my real family.”

“And Hogwarts is your home”, Tom mused, looking up into the blue sky.

“Yes”, Harry looked at him in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’m an orphan as well, Harry”, said Tom with a small smile. “You see, my mother died in childbirth after my father abandoned her… I grew up in a orphanage in London. Perhaps we even grew up there together; I was raised in Wool’s Orphanage. And you?”

“I wasn’t”, Harry said, wide-eyed. Tom was an orphan, too? That was really shocking. Actually, Harry half-expected him to be a descendant of some old pureblood family like the Malfoys for some reason. There just was this something… something regal about the way Tom behaved. “I, well… You see, Dumbledore didn’t believe that Voldemort died that night. So he put me in with my aunt and uncle, my only living blood relatives because of some kind of blood protection. In case Voldemort came back.”

“Did you like it there?” Tom asked, and Harry groaned.

“As if”, he rolled his eyes. “Would be better in an orphanage, I guess. I hate them so much”, he sighed into Tom’s shoulder. “They made me live in the cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven…”

“Where, excuse me?” Tom tensed. “I must have misheard, Harry.”

“Oh yes, the cupboard”, Harry said, waving his hand. It wasn’t that hard to talk about it, it felt so distant now. Now that he was at Hogwarts, and Tom was by his side… “They gave me my cousin Dudley’s old room when I turned eleven because my Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard”, he laughed weakly at the memory. “You see, they never told me about magic, they wanted to stomp it out of me.”

“But that’s dangerous!” Tom’s eyes were burning red now. He put his arms around Harry tighter and pulled him close. “You could’ve been hurt! You could’ve died!”

“Well, now they’re sort of afraid of me”, Harry grinned. “They still hate me and give me less food than normal but… but they’re scared I’ll do something. Because at some point I kind of did”, he laughed again. “When I was thirteen I blew up my aunt, you see.”

“You blew up your aunt?” even though Tom was still angry, he was visibly holding back laughter. “Harry? That was… that was one of the most impressive things I’ve ever heard.”

Harry felt a surge of pride in his chest as he looked up at Tom, grinning widely. “I guess… And you, Tom? What was your childhood like?”

Tom’s face darkened. “Something like yours, I believe. I grew up with Muggles, too, and they thought I was a demonic child of some sort, perhaps… They always made me see a doctor. Sometimes they locked me in the basement, too, when I misbehaved…”

“This is horrible”, Harry shuddered. He could imagine little Tom crying and asking to let him go, scared and alone in a dark basement. That was… horrifying. Because Harry knew what it felt like. “What about the other kids? Surely you had friends?”

“Oh no”, Tom shook his head. “They, ah… didn’t like me”, he tensed up, and Harry felt like he was trespassing.

“Look, I’m so sorry I asked”, he said quickly. “It’s just that my cousin Dudley scared everyone in the school and they didn’t want to be friends with me. Actually, Dudley and his gang were no better than my aunt and uncle”, Harry remembered his childhood with a shudder. Tom immediately held him tighter.

“It’s nothing”, he told him. “Well, I suppose my childhood was something similar”, he caressed Harry’s hair. “See how alike we are? Even though we went through so much when we were little, we grew up to be something great. We suffered abuse and neglect, and yet here we are.”

“I agree”, Harry smiled and nuzzled into Tom’s shoulder. “Tom, do you know what happened to your father? Anything at all? You said he was probably alive…”

“Actually, he isn’t anymore”, Tom stiffened. “He was murdered along with his whole family years ago. I read about it in a newspaper.”

“I’m so sorry”, Harry said. “You could’ve met him…”

“Oh, I’m happy I didn’t”, Tom’s eyes flashed red again. “They say he was a right bastard, that Muggle.”

“You’re Muggleborn?” Harry asked curiously. “I thought…”

“No, I’m actually half-blood”, Tom shook his head. “My mother came from an ancient pureblooded family. She…” Tom paused, as if unsure whether to tell Harry or not. “She gave my father a love potion so that he would love her, when in reality he despised her for being dirt poor and not pretty when he was handsome and rich”, Tom’s face contorted. “Then she had me. And when my father found out, he left her with no roof over her head and no money in her pocket.”

“He’s such a bitch!” Harry spluttered. “Oh Merlin, Tom, I’m so sorry…”

“You’re not to blame, Harry”, Tom’s face softened, and he smiled. “Only he is to blame for everything. And still, despite his horrible character, my mother never stopped loving him. She even named me after him, as if she could keep loving him through me.”

“His name was Tom Riddle, too?” Harry asked curiously. “I think I’ve heard it before… I don’t remember where though.”

“He was a Muggle, Harry, albeit an aristocrat, I doubt you’d ever read about him in the Wizarding World”, Tom said calmly, his anger gone and his eyes silver again. “Plus, he died many years ago.”

“True”, Harry nodded. “And still that name rings a bell.”

“Do you want to go back?” Tom pointed at the sky, and Harry saw that black clouds had covered the perfect blue. “I think it’s going to rain.”

“Sure, let’s go back”, Harry agreed. “Maybe my friends are back. I can talk to them…”

“Actually, I was thinking you could come with me?” Tom smiled warmly. “I wanted to show you something. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Oh, sure,” Harry smiled back and let himself be pulled up. Tom took his hand, and Harry flushed crimson, but didn’t let go. They started their walk towards the castle, as it began to drizzle.

They walked in comfortable silence across the dim-lit hallways, making their way towards Tom’s rooms. He lived in a room that was connected to his classroom, and, however logical it seemed, to Harry it was a surprise. They never let go of each other’s hands; Harry just didn’t want to so he kept his fingers intertwined with Tom’s, and Tom didn’t seem to mind.

Tom opened the door of his classroom, and they entered. Then he locked the door and pulled Harry after him to another door Harry hadn’t noticed before. They passed it as well, and, as Tom put a Silencing Charm on the room, Harry was gazing around it.

Everything practically screamed that Tom lived here. The bed was made neatly, and the white sheers contrasted nicely with a dark grey cover. In the room there were two large bookcases and one long shelf, all of them filled with books. Harry marvelled at the sight of extremely old books that Tom apparently had in his possession; perhaps one day he’d let him read them. The floor was covered by a soft black carpet, and Harry blushed, realising he’d walked in here wearing his shoes. And they’d had to walk in the rain; he must have dirtied the carpet already.

Besides that, there was an antique-looking table in Tom’s room; it looked tidy and neat, although it was also covered with books. Some of them had papers inside, and Harry assumed Tom had marked the places he needed. There was also a quill and a piece of parchment, but Harry couldn’t make out what was written, even wearing his glasses. A chair stood next to the table, all dark and old-fashioned and comfortable-looking.

In the corner stood quite a small wardrobe. It was dark brown with fancy ornaments on the doors, and Harry wondered absentmindedly whether Tom had more books than clothes. There was also a nightstand beside the bed and a fireplace, but there was no floo powder next to it, so Harry decided it was just a regular fireplace. On the mantelpiece stood an ancient clock which made a loud ticking sound. It looked antique, as did everything else in this room, and it was extremely well-made.

“It was carved out of an oak tree”, Tom said, noticing that Harry was staring at the clock. “I find oaks entirely fascinating because of their magical properties.”

“Is your wand made of oak?” Harry asked curiously.

“No, actually, I have a yew wand”, Tom pulled his wand from his pocket and gave it to Harry. He took it and stared at it in wonder. The wand was the exact same length as Harry’s, and it felt right in his hand. Actually, it felt the same as his own wand did. “What about you?”

“Oh, mine is made of holly”, Harry told him, pulling out his wand as well. “What is your core, I wonder?”

“Mine is quite rare”, Tom smiled. “Well, not as rare as thestral hair, for example… It’s a phoenix feather.”

Harry snapped his head up.

“What, Harry?” Tom raised his eyebrows. “You don’t believe it? Frankly speaking, I didn’t believe it either. But I tried many other wands afterwards, including ones of my closest friends at school. But none of them worked for me, so I kept my yew wand, the one I got when I was eleven at Ollivander’s.”

“Mine… mine is also a phoenix feather”, Harry told him, staring at the two identically long wands in his hand. “Tom, look… they even look similar.”

Tom crossed the room to where Harry was standing and took his wrist in his fingers, examining the wands. “I wonder, Harry…” he said slowly. “Could you give me your wand for a second?”

Harry shrugged and stretched his arm out, pointing to the wand that was his. Tom took it, and Harry grasped the remaining one which was Tom’s. It felt so right in his hand… so right that it seemed impossible. How could another person’s wand feel exactly like your own?

Tom pointed somewhere at the shelf and muttered “Accio!”. Then one of the book came flying at him, slowly but surely, right into his hands. Tom caught it and placed it carefully on the mantelpiece near the clock, marvelling at Harry’s wand in his hand. Harry suddenly felt dizzy; seeing someone do magic with your wand like it was their own turned out to be very… intimate.

“Harry, would you care to try something with my wand?” Tom asked. “I’m just curious… It has almost never happened before…”

Harry grasped the wand tighter and cast a Wingardium Leviosa on the book Tom had summoned. The spell worked exactly the way it was supposed to, and the book rose into the air, hovering about half a metre from the mantelpiece. Harry let go, and the book promptly fell back down with a loud thud.

“How very intriguing…” said Tom, his eyes flashing. Harry felt like he knew what effect him using Tom’s wand had had on Tom; he was feeling the same thing. They were drawn to each other, the way their wands were. “Our wands seem to be twins.” He took Harry’s hand once again and led him to the bed, sitting down next to him. “Do you know what this means, Harry?”

“No…” Harry shook his head. “Well, I did understand that we have the same wand core but there aren’t just that many in total. I mean, surely we’re not the only ones with a phoenix feather core?”

“Of course, we aren’t”, Tom caressed Harry’s wrist with his thumb. “You see, Harry, it seems that our wand cores have come from the same phoenix. This makes them twins; it ensures we won’t be able to harm one another if we were to duel using these wands, but it also gives the benefit of us being able to use each other’s wands effortlessly, even though the wood is different. See, Harry”, Tom leaned in. “This is what I keep telling you. We may be different on the outside, but we are exactly the same on the inside.”

“Is it even possible?” Harry frowned. “I mean… you were born earlier than me. How come this wand just sat there and waited for me to come and get it? There were probably hundreds, if not thousands, of witches and wizards looking for wands after you and before me…”

“Surely they told you that the wand chooses the wizard?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “When I bought my wand, the other one, its twin, must have settled on you, even though you had yet to find it. This means that we are entwined much mire closely than anyone else. They’re rare, you see, these twin wands. Especially with cores like phoenix feathers.”

“Was that what you wanted to show me?” Harry remembered suddenly. He didn’t really want to talk, because Tom was so close, and his face was just so magnetic. His eyes had turned crimson again, and that seemed to be drawing Harry in even mire instead of making him feel scared. “Our wands?”

“No”, Tom breathed onto his cheek, and Harry flushed bright red. “I didn’t know until you told me a few minutes ago that your core was the same as mine. But I did want to show you something else.”

Tom got up and made his way to the nightstand, whispering a long and complicated charm. When he was done, the nightstand clicked, and Tom pulled out one of the compartments. Harry craned his neck to try and see what was in there, but he couldn’t make out anything but a small black bag. Tom took it out, caressing it almost lovingly, and put the empty compartment back in. Then he sat back down on the bed and opened the bag, emptying its contents between himself and Harry.

Before Harry there was the weirdest collection of objects he’d ever seen. It was a diary that seemed to have been punctured in various places, a ring with a broken stone, a cracked diadem, a cup covered with dark spots and burnt-like holes, and a locket with a spiderweb of cracks over it. Harry felt strangely uneasy in their presence, there was something about them that made him nervous. Harry fidgeted with his fingers, feeling something strange stir deep inside him. But there was something else… something completely different. A weird sense of longing, an almost desperate desire to touch them, to explore. Finally, the longing won, and Harry took the ring in his hands as it was closest to him. He ran his finger over the broken stone, caressed the golden surface of the ring itself. But something felt… wrong. As if something were missing. Harry put down the ring and picked up the locket instead; it was made of silver, and there was a snake in the shape of the letter S on it. Harry stroked it, almost lovingly, and then was suddenly aware of the fact that Tom was eyeing him in a strange way.

“Tom? What are these?” Harry asked carefully, putting the locket down too. But now that his hands had already felt the objects, they acted on their own accord. Harry took the diary, absentmindedly flipping through the empty pages and frowning. Why would someone keep an old empty diary?

“You don’t recognise any of them?” Tom lifted and eyebrow and laughed lowly. “Look, Harry. This is Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup”, he pointed to the cup. “This is Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem. The locket that you liked is actually Salazar Slytherin’s locket.”

Harry stared at the three pointed out objects in shock. “But… but…” he stammered. “How did you even find them? And… and why? Oh Merlin, Tom, but these are precious… and why do they look so broken?”

It seemed to Harry that they weren’t simply objects. There had to have been something else in them, at least earlier. But the sheer idea of how old and precious they were… It made Harry gape. Merlin… How and why did Tom find them? It was so shocking yet so… fitting for him.

“Oh, that’s a long story for another time”, Tom smiled. “You see, Harry, there is also the Gaunt’s Ring. This belonged to grandfather.”

“No way!” Harry choked. “You’re related to the Gaunts? But your father…”

“He was a Muggle, yes”, Tom nodded. “My mother was a Gaunt. One of the last ones, actually. I believe that with her death I am the only one left. Did you know, Harry, that the Gaunts are the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin?” he asked, a red shimmer in his eyes. “That is how I am able to speak Parseltongue.”

“That’s… surprising”, Harry admitted, stroking the cover of the diary. “Wow… The Gaunts! I mean, I wasn’t wrong when I thought you looked regal… I remember Hermione talked about them as the last ever descendants of Slytherin in class. I never expected to meet one myself”, Harry blushed.

“You thought I looked regal?” Tom smiled. “Well, perhaps I do…”

“And what about the diary?” Harry asked. “Is it your heirloom, too?”

“No”, Tom laughed. “It’s just a diary. You see, Harry, these five objects are dear to me. My diary where I wrote when I was a student, my heirloom, and three relics of the Founders of Hogwarts. They may be the most prized possessions I’ve ever had…” he trailed off. “I used them, at some point. I cannot tell you how, Harry, I’m sorry. Now I can’t use them anymore, unfortunately, that is why they look like that. But I kept them anyway, as a reminder… of some of my memories.”

“Did you destroy them?” Harry asked curiously. “I mean… they sure look that way.”

“Not exactly”, Tom smiled a little. “I did reverse the piece of magic I had done to them. But it still left traces…” he sounded thoughtful. “You see, Harry, powerful magic always leaves traces.”

“Like my scar…” Harry whispered, touching his forehead.

“Yes, Harry”, Tom suddenly took his hand in which Harry was holding the diary. “Like your scar.” He paused a little, and then said, “I apologise, but I fear I can’t tell you anything about that piece of magic that I used. I will tell you later, I promise, when you are ready.”

That left Harry hanging. He was extremely curious about that magic Tom had performed, and now he was telling his he wasn’t ready? Then it must be something really powerful… Something extremely complicated… Harry felt a little upset because he didn’t get to find out what that magic was, but he also felt extremely happy and almost proud that Tom trusted him enough to show him his most prized possessions.

“You know, Harry”, Tom whispered in his ear. “You’re the only person aside from Dumbledore to have seen them. And the only person in the world to have seen them in that state.”

Harry’s heart sped up like crazy.

Harry was leaving Tom’s rooms at last. He really didn’t want to, as he was eager to find out more about these objects Tom had shown him, but Tom said that it would be better if no one knew that Harry had been there. And it was true; who knows what the others would think of that…

He put his hand on the door handle when he suddenly realised he’d left his wand on Tom’s bed. He’d taken it out at some point and then he’d put it on the bed; but he’d forgotten to take it with him. So Harry sped back to the rooms, relieved to find the wand still there. In fact, Tom was playing with both wands in his hands, joining them at the tips and watching golden sparks come out of them.

“Wow”, Harry breathed. “This is so beautiful.”

“This is what will happen when we unite, Harry”, Tom said, looking up at him. “We are the wands, and the golden sparks are the magic we will be able to do.”

“I’m looking forward to that”, Harry smiled. “Can I please have my wand back?”

“Go ahead and take it”, Tom stretched his arm out, and Harry approached cautiously, for some reason. He reached for his wand, but at the last moment something made him change his mind, and he took Tom’s wand.

Harry blushed when he realised whose wand he was holding, and he dared to look up at Tom only a few seconds after. He was expecting to have to apologise profusely, but Tom was sitting there, seemingly unperturbed. “It was an accident”, Harry told him uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to take your wand.”

“Oh, didn’t you?” Tom smirked and stood up, tucking Harry’s wand in his robes. He stepped forward, and Harry didn’t move, mesmerised. “I believe you did… See, Harry, I also want to take your wand and do magic with it. Care to… switch? For a day, for example?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, it was his wand and he didn’t want anyone else to use it; it felt extremely intimate. Plus, how was he supposed to do his own magic with someone else’s wand? On the other hand… Tom wasn’t someone else. And it was his wand. Harry’s twin wand. And he wanted it, for some unknown reason. Harry ached to use his wand, to show that he could, to… He supposed it was just one more step for them to become closer than anyone else.

“We could always try”, Harry said, staring into Tom’s eyes. He stuffed Tom’s wand into his robes and watched the eyes in front of him turn blood red again. Suddenly Harry felt a familiar feeling in his body, the same one he had had when he’d touched Tom’s collection of objects… However multiplied by a thousand. His heart was hammering in his chest, he felt his cheeks flush and… and he knew that Tom knew what exactly he was feeling. Tom’s eyes glowed crimson as he took another step forward, snaking one arm around Harry’s waist. Harry didn’t back iff, taken by the moment, instead he stepped closer to Tom and looked up expectantly, half knowing what was coming half having no idea.

“Harry…” Tom’s voice was low and hungry. “Close your eyes if you trust me.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as he pondered why Tom would ask him something like this. Harry trusted Tom, obviously, and he had a feeling that right now he’d do anything for him. And then he felt Tom shift in front of him, and warm lips found his own.

The kiss was hungry and wild; Harry moaned, wrapping his arms around Tom’s neck, and returned the kiss, opening his mouth and pressing closer. Right now nothing mattered more than Tom’s hot tongue in Harry’s mouth, his hands on Harry’s sides and bis body flush against Harry’s. Tom deepened the kiss, and Harry was left gasping for breath as he felt warmth spread through all his body. It was indeed like touching the ring or the diary, but not times a thousand; probably times a million.

Tom pulled away from Harry, staring at his lips hungrily, and then dipped his head to nibble at Harry’s neck, biting into the skin and weaving his fingers through Harry’s hair, making him tilt his head. Harry complied gladly and moaned loudly when he felt teeth bite his neck. That, for some reason, brought both of them to their senses.

Harry stared at Tom, feeling his body begin to shake. What had they just done? How on earth had it seemed like a good idea? Tom was probably thinking something similar, as his eyes returned to their original silver colour, and his face paled uncontrollably. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He touched his probably swollen lips and blushed crimson. Then Tom reached out with his hand and looked like he wanted to say something, but Harry was scared enough of himself to hear what Tom had to say about it. He was scared because he knew he liked the kiss, and he’d gladly repeat it sometime… maybe even now. A treacherous thought that they were all alone weaved its way into Harry’s mind, and he quickly shoved it away. No, no, they couldn’t do this! Tom was still his teacher, even though their relationship was indeed a bit different, no, that wasn’t right! Harry wasn’t even sure of his feelings for him! He felt so utterly confused, wanting to both never see Tom again out of shame and to kiss the daylights out of him right now. Tom opened his mouth to speak, and Harry did the first thing that came to his mind.

He ran away.

Harry didn’t stop running until he reached the common room, where he said the password, panting heavily, and rushed inside, hoping he could be alone for a while. As if… Harry could feel the stares before he actually saw them, and suddenly he was surrounded by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

“What happened?” Ron asked. “I told you you shouldn’t have stayed at school…”

“Harry, we shouldn’t have shouted at you”, Hermione nodded. “Oh Merlin, Harry, you’re shaking! What’s wrong?”

“You don’t want to know”, he moaned and finally looked at them properly, “Look, Ron, Hermione, I’m really so sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that either… I understand you’re worried, I should have thought of that…”

“Friends fight, Harry”, Hermione said with a smile. “The most important thing is to always stay friends no matter what.”

“Yeah, mate”, said Ron. “Look, I thought about it and… maybe you’re right. I want to play Quidditch and you want to study with Riddle. Maybe we really shouldn’t interfere…”

“I could have told you that”, Ginny rolled her eyes and put her hand on Harry’s knee. “We’re your friends, all right? You can trust us with anything.”

“Of course”, Hermione agreed. “I still don’t like these changes in you, but maybe you are right.. people do change. It did you some good; at least now you go to the library more…” she smiled.

Harry laughed weakly. “Well yes”, he said, cocking his head to the side. Oh he shouldn’t have done that…

“Mate, what’s this?” Ron’s eyes rounded as he pointed to Harry’s neck. Harry automatically covered it with his hand, but the damage had been done. “It’s a hickey! And it wasn’t there in the morning!”

“Perhaps it was…” Harry trailed off and then decided he had nothing to lose, so he looked Ron in the eye. “Or perhaps it wasn’t.”

“Are you going to tell us who?..” Hermione prompted, raising her eyebrows. Harry pursed his lips and blushed, shaking his head.

Ron laughed. “Well, whoever it was, she must be feral! It wasn’t Lavender, was it?” he asked hopefully, and Harry shook his head.

“But no other Gryffindor stayed”, Ron said thoughtfully. “Well, there’s always McGonagall, of course…”

“Ron”, Harry was embarrassed all over again. “Please. I’m not going to tell you. It was a mistake, we got carried away, and it won’t happen again.” Or so he hoped. But a part if him wished he could go and find Tom right now to continue what they had started, and it scared him. No, they couldn’t. Why on earth would Harry want to kiss Tom Riddle?

“How in the world can a kiss be a mistake?” Ginny snapped suddenly. “Harry, if it’s a secret, we understand”, she frowned. “But how could you have kissed her by mistake?”

“I… it wasn’t me”, Harry admitted. “We were talking about our wands, and T… she kissed me”, he explained. “We got kind of carried away. But then we realised what we had done, and, well…”

“I presume you ran away”, Harry didn’t miss the calculating look in Hermione’s eyes. “Tell me, Harry… why would you ever discuss wands with her? Wouldn’t it be much more useful to discuss them with… Professor Riddle?” she raised her eyebrows, and Harry’s heart stopped. “He’s our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all…”

Harry flushed beet red. He had a feeling Hermione already knew everything, she was simply trying to get him to admit it. But Harry wasn’t ready… yet. He didn’t even know what to make of it himself. “We… we have twin wands, you see”, he said finally. “We just discovered it today.”

“Twin wands?” Hermione’s eyes lit up the way they always did when she got a piece of new information.

“Twin wands?” Ginny frowned. “What even is that?”

“These are wands the core of which comes from the same animal”, Hermione explained. “Harry… but they are so rare! Especially with phoenixes! How did you even manage to find out?”

“Well…” Harry trailed off, not knowing what to say. “We were talking about wands and what ours are made of, and, um… she said hers was yew. So I said mine was holly, and then I asked her about the core of her wand. And so we discovered we both had phoenix feathers, and then we…” he blushed yet again. “We tried to do magic with each other’s wands.”

“It would work?” Ron was utterly confused. “I thought you couldn’t do that…”

“Normally you can’t”, Hermione said knowingly. “But with twin wands it might work. You see, to have twin wands you need to be similar enough for them to choose you”, she explained, looking pointedly at Harry. “But you already knew that you were similar, didn’t you, Harry?”

“Kind of”, he shrugged. “Not to that extent.”

“Also that detail about yew and holly”, Hermione trailed off. “I believe there’s some connection between the two as well. I need to research that.”

“Why would you even care?” Ginny asked annoyed. “So, their wands are twins. Does that make any difference?”

“Ginny, what’s wrong?” Harry and Ron asked together, and Hermione just shook her head.

“I understand you’re upset, Ginny, but it actually sort of does make a difference. You see, not only does it mean that they’re similar enough and probably bound by fate or something, but also the wands themselves create a connection of their own. They won’t be able to harm each other, for example, and they can use each other’s wands, too. It worked, didn’t it?”

Harry only nodded. “It felt so strange though...” he admitted. “Almost intimate.”

“As it should have”, Hermione sighed. “And then there’s the issue of your cores. Holly and yew, right?” Harry nodded. “I’ll look into that… I believe there was something about that, too. Harry, you’re lucky”, she smiled, but almost forcefully. “Not all partners have twin wands.”

“We’re not partners!” Harry spluttered. “The kiss was a mistake, okay? She was so pale when she realised what we were doing, and her eyes were silver again”, Harry shut up immediately upon realising he gave up crucial information.

Hermione gasped. Harry hung his head in defeat, realising she’d just confirmed her suspicions. Thankfully, Ron and Ginny didn’t seem to understand.

Sunday passed quickly. Harry spent time with Ron and Hermione, as usual, and they had fun talking and doing stuff together just like they used to before. Harry deliberately avoided Tom and any topics concerning him as well, so by the time Monday came he’d already forgotten what he needed to forget in the first place. However, as Harry made his way to breakfast he suddenly caught Tom’s eye, and memories came rushing back. He was suddenly reminded that today he had not one, but two classes with Tom, and how on earth was he supposed to pull through them?..

Thankfully, when Harry quietly made his way towards his seat in class, Tom didn’t say anything or indicate in any way what had happened. He treated him as usual, smiled warmly and sometimes asked questions which Harry knew how to answer. Today’s topic was Inferi, something Harry had read about already, and he was perfectly happy to show it. Tom seemed very proud of him, so Harry smiled confidently as his doubts faded away. The kiss hadn’t changed anything, Tom was still willing to teach him and he was just as proud of him.

There was something else there though; Harry liked being praised in front of others. Not that he needed them; but he liked their attention. He liked the way all of them looked at him, the way they admitted he was better than they’d thought. Pride was swelling in Harry’s chest as he performed a spell Tom asked of him that no one else could do. Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed and probably disappointed, Ron just nodded encouragingly, and Harry… well, not that he needed anyone’s approval but it was still nice to get it. Especially when Tom put a hand on his shoulder and whispered praises as he always did, and everyone was watching. And Harry didn’t feel at all uncomfortable under the attention anymore. On the contrary, he revelled in it.

But as the next few lessons passed, Harry didn’t feel as confident anymore. Sure, he’d already had a class with Tom, but there had been twenty more people in the classroom. Now they were going to be all alone. What would Tom say? Perhaps he’d want to bring up the kiss? Harry sincerely hoped not.

He knocked on the door uncertainly, and it opened immediately, letting Harry in. He stepped inside and watched Tom walk around the classroom and perform some spells on the walls.

“Hello, Harry”, he greeted him, guiding him away from the door to cast the spell on it too. Then he locked it and put his wand back in his pocket. “How was your day?”

“Fine”, Harry stammered. He didn’t fail to notice Tom’s eyes flash red when he walked into the classroom. “I, uh… We forgot to switch wands, did you know?”

“Yes”, Tom smiled warmly. “I noticed I had your wand, not mine, but then you ran away and I didn’t want to disturb you. But then I thought that as they were twins, there would be no harm done. Have you been able to do magic just fine, Harry?” Tom asked, walking closer.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, suddenly recalling the hickey was still there. “Well, yes”, he answered. “You saw me perform spells in your class today.”

“Yes, and it was quite endearing”, Tom nodded. “You’re so powerful, Harry. So talented. And watching you do magic with my wand only proves it.”

“But isn’t that the sole purpose of twin wands?” Harry frowned. “That we can do magic with both of them?”

“Well, it is true that it’s their property. Property, Harry, not purpose”, Tom explained. “See, Harry, no one really knows how and why they appear, but the wizards who get them are usually quite extraordinary. For example, you wouldn’t deny that I’m very powerful, right?”

Harry shook his head. “Of course not. I’m pretty sure you’re more powerful than most teachers.” It was probably true. Harry watched Tom perform magic many times, and by now he was convinced Tom was probably the most powerful wizard in the whole school.

“See. And you are able to use my wand, which means that you’re just as powerful.”

“I’m not as good as you”, Harry flushed, flattered at the praise.

“Perhaps not yet”, Tom said. “But one day you will be. So”, he clapped his hands. “Do you know what the topic of our lesson will be?”

Harry only shook his head.

“I wanted to do something special with you”, Tom took Harry’s hand and guided him towards a table. Harry sat down on it, and Tom just sighed, though more affectionately than annoyed, and stood in front of him. “Tell me, Harry, do you know what Fiendfyre is?”

“Well, I did read about it at some point”, Harry told him, frowning as he tried his best to remember. “Yes! So, Fiendfyre is a fire that is unstoppable. It consumes everything in its way, and its flames can turn into different creatures.”

“Very good”, Tom praised him. “You missed a couple of points, but they aren’t that important. As you said, Fiendfyre is a type of fire that is produced by a spell”, Tom started walking back and forth as he always did when explaining something. “It can turn into any creature and it usually obeys the caster.”

“Usually?” Harry latched onto the word that made him suspicious. “So you mean to say that Fiendfyre can get out of control?”

“If the caster is not experienced enough”, Tom flicked his wand, and a small spark came out of it. It grew slowly to about the size of an apple and cracked happily. “This is fire under control”, Tom said, gesturing towards the little flame. “But then, if I let it go”, he relaxed his wand arm, and the fire immediately started growing and taking different shapes. “It gets out of hand”, Tom waved his wand again, and the fire disappeared.

“So I assume Fiendfyre works the same way?” Harry asked, and Tom nodded. “Interesting”, he mumbled as if to himself and conjured up a little flame, watching it writhe slightly.

“Yes. And I wanted to tell you about another type of fire as well”, Tom continued. “Do you know anything about Protego Diabolica?”

“Protego Diabolica? Er… I probably don’t”, Harry managed. The name didn’t sound familiar at all, Harry couldn’t recall it from any of the books he’d read. “This isn’t something connected to the Inferno, is it?” he asked hopefully. Not knowing the spell didn’t stop him from understanding the name itself. Learning a whole load of new spells came with an understanding that most of the incantations were in Latin or Greek, and that made them heaps easier to memorise as the thing the spell did was quite literally in the name itself.

“Well, not exactly”, Tom smiled slightly. “Do not look so alarmed, Harry; essentially it’s a protective spell. You see, the caster creates a ring of fire similar to Fiendfyre around himself. His friends and allies will pass unharmed”, Tom approached Harry slowly. “But his enemies will be obliterated.”

“It sounds horrifying”, Harry admitted. He shuddered at the thought of casting it and hoped he never would have to. “I mean, why would you even use it?”

“Well, there are a few reasons”, Tom said, sitting down next to Harry. “You must have heard of Grindelwald, right?” Harry nodded. “Once he used that spell to determine whether his followers were indeed loyal to him. If they were, they had nothing to fear.”

“This is evil”, Harry sighed. “How could he do that to his own followers?”

“I wasn’t there, so I couldn’t read his mind”, Tom pursed his lips. “And the second possible use is in battle. Imagine you can create a ring of fire around yourself which will let no enemies through. You will always be at a considerable distance from them, then, and therefore have a better chance at getting one.”

“That does sound useful”, Harry admitted finally after a long moment of silence. “But it’s still evil…” he closed his eyes and immediately felt a warm arm around his back.

“Harry”, a whisper in Parseltongue came into his ear. “Remember. Spells can’t be good and evil, magic isn’t light and dark. I told you that, remember? It’s the caster who determines everything, the spell is just a tool.”

“Just a tool”, Harry repeated, slipping into Parseltongue too. “But what… what about a knife?”

“You can cut a cake with it or you can stab someone with it”, Tom replied then switched back into English. “Even Avada Kedavra was once used in medicine. Can you believe that?”

“I did read about it”, Harry said finally. “Yes, I remember. So it is true then”, he paused, looking at Tom uncertainly. “The thing that you said?”

“Of course”, Tom smiled. “Why would I ever lie to you?”

Harry smiled back, finally relaxing into the warm gentle hold. “So what are we going to do today?”

“I was thinking”, Tom’s smile grew wider as his eyes flashed crimson. “Unfortunately, Fiendfyre is too dangerous to try as you are inexperienced and if it gets out of control only you will be able to stop it. But Protego Diabolica”, the blood red colour of Tom’s eyes became even brighter. “Does not spread. It doesn’t consume everything in its way. Actually, there are charms on this room that will protect it from burning down. So, what do you say? Care to try?”

Harry stared at him. What? Surely Tom didn’t mean that he’d be trying such a spell? Harry was appalled. Tom expected him to use such a dark curse? He felt a chill going down his spine and shivered. How could he so this, no, no, that wasn’t right… Harry wasn’t like Grindelwald, or like Voldemort for that matter, he would never use such a thing!..

And yet…

There was something in Harry that longed to do it. There was a part of him that knew he would succeed even in this, and he wanted to prove it. To Tom, to himself, to the whole world. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it, but knew for certain that a part of him longed to try. Harry could imagine the pride in Tom’s eyes, his expression as if saying “I told you so”, and Harry wanted to go for it, to earn it, because he knew Tom’s praises never went to waste. Tom was always just, and Harry knew he’d earned every single one of his kind words.

“I suppose I could always try”, Harry said finally, surrendering to his desire to try the new spell. “But I’m not sure it will work.”

“It will”, Tom promised, helping Harry up from the desk. “You just need to concentrate.”

Harry stood in the middle of the classroom. It was almost empty, save for the desks that were positioned next to the walls. He supposed that a circle of the right size wouldn’t damage them, or anything at all. However, as Harry held his wand out, he was still unsure. Suddenly, the scale of what he was about to do hit him, and he became uncertain again. Would that make him dark? Would that make him evil, like Voldemort, the wizard who’d murdered his parents?

“Harry”, Tom said, approaching him. “I know what you are thinking. Let go. Grindelwald and Voldemort were insane, Harry. They killed not because they were dark, but because they were out of their minds. You, my dear, are completely sane. I highly doubt one single spell would break you. If anything, it will make you stronger. Come on, Harry”, he purred, holding Harry’s wand arm with his hands, steadying it. “You’re even using my wand to do it. Can you believe it? Can you sense how far you’ve come in these few months?”

“Halloween is coming”, Harry mumbled, shivering under the touch. “It has only been a couple of months.”

“Exactly”, Tom said, smiling. “And you’ve come this far. You’ve reached so high. I am thoroughly impressed, Harry.”

“Tom, I… Voldemort and Grindelwald, they began with something, too”, Harry said, biting his lip. “I’d love to try, but what if it is the path to insanity? I’m just not sure…”

“Harry, remember that everything that happens in this classroom is under my control”, Tom said soothingly. “I will not let you plunge into insanity like they did. I have used this curse, if you’re wondering, and as you can see, I’m still perfectly sane”, he chuckled. “Come, Harry, my dear. I know you want to do it. Think of it as another step to become closer to me. And together, we shall become more powerful than anyone else”, Tom’s eyes flashed crimson. “I’ll always be there for you, Harry. I’ll watch over you and I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Tom’s words shouldn’t have been comforting. They really shouldn’t have. And yet, in a strange way, they were, and Harry felt himself relax. He gave in, he did want to try it. And Tom’s promise that he’d always be there made him feel secure. Protected.

So Harry closed his eyes, imagining a ring of fire, sighed and said, ”Protego Diabolica!”

At first, nothing happened. But then Harry even through closed eyelids, saw a flash of bright blue light, and opened his eyes to a perfect circle of sapphire-coloured fire all around him. It burned, but didn’t consume the classroom or the tables. It just stayed there, not moving at all, just cracking. Harry waved his wand tentatively, and the fire spread, creating a line across the classroom. Interesting, he thought. Drunk on the sense of control, Harry let the fire line approach him, and he touched it, finding it surprisingly cold.

“I did it!” Harry exclaimed, turning to Tom. “Look! I did it!” he trailed off, noticing that Tom’s eyes burned.

“You’re perfect, Harry”, Tom said finally, taking the first step towards him. “And you are mine.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to answer that, as Tom bent down and captured his lips in a searing kiss, as if setting his claim on Harry. He whimpered, limbs going stiff. He didn’t know how to react to this; on the one hand, they’d been over that, and the last time this happened neither of them was sure what to say. But on the other hand, it was Harry who ran away, so perhaps Tom wasn’t going to apologise or worse, kick him out? Thoughts raced in Harry’s mind, but it went blank as soon as Tom forced his mouth open, sliding his tongue inside. Harry moaned loudly, deciding to ponder it later, and threw his arms around Tom’s neck, returning the kiss just as fiercely.

It probably looked like a scene from a film that Aunt Petunia liked watching; the two of them standing in the middle of a ring of fire, kissing like it was the last day of their lives. But it wasn’t a cinematic piece of work, it was real life, and Harry was only glad that it was real. He felt Tom tug at his hair, tilting his head for better access, and promptly succumbed, letting his eyes finally flutter shut.

When Tom finally let go, Harry was gasping for breath, and his whole body felt like it was on fire. Tom brushed a few hairs out of his eyes and growled lowly, “Don’t you dare run away.”

Harry laughed weakly. “Not that I can”, he joked. “You turned me into jelly, Tom. But… but this isn’t right, is it? You’re my teacher and I…” Harry paused.

“What isn’t right? This?” Tom leaned down again to kiss him, this time softly. It lasted only a moment before Tom pulled away. “I can’t believe you, Harry”, he chucked. “I have come to think of you as a friend, not a student. Wouldn’t you agree? I even let you call me Tom.”

“But you’re still my teacher”, Harry flushed. “I’m not even of age yet…”

“Harry, you’re overcomplicating things”, Tom pulled him into an embrace. “This isn’t anything wrong or forbidden. When two people love each other, this is what they do, isn’t it? And I love you. As much as I can love someone”, Tom laughed lightly, kissing Harry’s temple. “You’re mine, Harry. Can’t you feel it?”

“I can”, Harry mumbled. “Tom, I feel like… like I’m a part of you, almost. When we… kissed”, he flushed crimson. “I even felt like we were one. Is this… what is supposed to happen?”

“Don’t ask me”, Tom said with a smile. “I haven’t had much experience at all in this department. I was different in school as well, Harry. I wasn’t in need of anything like this. Until I met you.”

“I think I love you too, Tom”, Harry said finally, giving up completely, surrendering everything he had to Tom Riddle. “At least… we belong together, I know it. There’s a part of me that belongs to you.”

“This is what I have been wondering about for the past few weeks”, Tom murmured. “Harry. You’re my soul.”

“I’m your soul?” Harry chuckled, pulling away to look into Tom’s eyes. “Maybe your soulmate?”

“No, Harry”, Tom’s eyes turned red again as he held Harry tight against his chest again. “Not a soulmate. You’re my soul.”

Harry couldn’t being himself to argue. After all, maybe he indeed was Tom’s soul… whatever it meant.

The next day, on Tuesday, Harry woke up early as if he could sense something was off. He stirred in his bed, trying to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. He recalled yesterday’s evening with a smile; Tom hadn’t let him go until almost curfew, they had talked of their childhoods, and spent time practising spells, and kissed from time to time, too. Curfew was at eleven, so Tom had walked him to the Common Room at ten thirty, careful as to not let anyone see. They had also changed their wands back, and Harry felt a little disappointed; he liked using Tom’s wand.

Finally it was time to really get up. So Harry did and went to the bathroom laughing at Ron’s hopeless attempts to get out of bed. Then they both got dressed and met Hermione down in the Common Room, walking out to breakfast afterwards.

“Where were you yesterday, Harry?” Ron asked suddenly. “I was waiting for you to play Exploding Snap in the evening, but you just disappeared! When did you even come back?”

Harry blushed slightly. “Well, I had a lesson with, er… Riddle, you know that, right?”

“Up to when?” Hermione raised her eyebrow. “Surely not all night!”

“Well, we had a lot to learn”, Harry said defensively. “Riddle taught me quite a few spells. I got back at quarter to eleven, maybe, not past curfew if that’s what bothers you.”

“Ron was waiting for you down in the Common Room until perhaps half past ten”, Hermione smirked, but the smirk looked more sad than anything. “Then I told him that it was useless so he gave up and went back to the dorm room. I was hoping to catch you as well, but I was already sleepy so I went up, too, knowing full well you might not come back until morning.”

“I… what?” Harry stammered. “Until morning? Where do you think I was, on a date?!”

Hermione didn’t answer, but her face told Harry everything he needed to know.

“Speaking of”, Ron perched up. “What about that girl, remember? The one who gave you a hickey a couple of days ago. Did you talk or something?”

Harry cast a worried glance on Hermione, but she just shrugged as if she had no idea what they were talking about. “Actually we didn’t”, he said finally, feeling awful for lying to his friends. But how could he tell the truth? “We avoided each other… well, I avoided her all weekend”, Harry laughed nervously, catching a sceptical glance from Hermione. “Yesterday I saw her in class, though, and she treated me the way she always does. Do you think it’s a good sign?” he added after a moment. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but at least it wouldn’t make Ron feel like he were lying.

“I have no idea, mate”, Ron said honestly, shaking his head. “I have zero experience in this, you know that…”

“Doesn’t look like that”, Hermione smirked. “You know, Harry, it’s a pity you came late. You should’ve seen him snog Lavender Brown in the middle of the Common Room.”

“Ron”, Harry said slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ron actually blushed! His cheeks went so red Harry couldn’t even see his freckles. “I… um… so you see”, he stammered, and Harry had to try very hard to contain his laughter. Oh, this embarrassed Ron was priceless.

Harry opened his mouth to ask for details, when a first year bumped into him. Harry looked down and saw a small boy looking up at him.

“Harry Potter?” he breathed. “I… my name is Finneas Rattlestone, sir!”

“Pleased to meet you”, Harry said calmly, not knowing how to deal with a kid calling him ‘sir’. “Do you want something?” he asked.

“Professor Dumbledore sent me, sir!” said Finneas, fumbling for something in his robes. “He asked me to give you this note, sir!”

Harry took the note, thanking the boy curtly, and opened it, suddenly curious. But the boy interrupted him, “Can I see your scar, sir?”

“Sure” Harry raised his eyebrow, suddenly not feeling embarrassed at all, like he had been the previous times. He raised his fringe and showed Finneas the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Finneas gaped at it, mouth wide open, and then took off without uttering another word. Harry caught Hermione looking at him in a weird way, but decided to let it go.

“What does the note say?” Ron asked and tried to see what was written.

“It says”, Harry quickly read the note. “That I should come to his office. Presumably, right now”, he added, reading it again.

“Right now?” Ron was shocked. “But Harry, what about breakfast?”

Harry laughed. “You know, Ron, if I go now maybe I will have time to eat something. All right, I’ll get going. See you later!” he screamed, already walking away quickly. Harry didn’t know what it was that Dumbledore wanted with him, but whatever it was, it had to be urgent.

Harry made his way to the Headmaster’s office and said the password given in the note. This time, it was “Lemon Sherbet”. Harry thought absentmindedly that Tom would never set this kind of password, he’d probably use some Latin phrase, like “Per aspera ad astra” or something similar. Why this thought came to him, Harry didn’t know.

He finally reached the door and knocked politely. “Come in”, came a voice from the inside, and Harry opened the door quietly, stepping in and nodding.

“Good morning, Professor Dumbledore”, he said, approaching the desk and sitting down. Dumbledore eyed him strangely, but said nothing nevertheless.

“Good morning, Harry, good morning”, he smiled warmly and pushed a small bowl with sweets towards Harry. “Lemon drop?”

“No, thank you, sir”, Harry smiled slightly. “How is Fawkes? Doing all right, I hope?”

“Fawkes is doing remarkably well, Harry”, Dumbledore’s face softened. “I feel like he has been missing you, though. Perhaps I am truly getting old”, he said with a smile.

“Oh, don’t say that, sir”, Harry looked up to see Fawkes perched up on top of some weird artefact. “I like Fawkes, though. Very much.”

“I can tell”, Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “He likes you, too, Harry. Now tell me, how are your classes going? Is everything fine?”

“Yes, sir”, Harry answered, feeling something strikingly similar to déjà-vu. He remembered that this was the exact question Dumbledore had asked him the previous time. “Well, I’m doing fine in most of them, at least.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Harry”, said Dumbledore. “I also heard that you spend a lot of time in the library lately. Is this true?”

“Yes”, Harry nodded. “I became interested in Defence Against the Dark Arts, you see. I… I want to learn more than we are given.”

“Learning is a good thing, Harry,” Dumbledore nodded, and suddenly Harry felt like there was something behind all these questions. As if Dumbledore were trying to gather some information without asking directly. “What about your club with Professor Riddle? Is everything going well there, too?”

“Of course”, Harry smiled and couldn’t help but blush slightly. “We learn lots of useful new spells, sir.”

“I don’t doubt it”, Dumbledore nodded. “Professor Riddle has always been knowledgeable. I remember him being a student, Harry. Yes, I knew Tom back then, too”, he added after a moment of silence. “He was like you in many ways, Harry. Eager to learn, top of his class… I hope I won’t be mistaken when I say his favourite subject was Defence Against the Dark Arts, too.”

“No, sir”, Harry’s smile grew wider. “He told me that once.”

“See, Harry, I remember him very well”, Dumbledore was still smiling, but it wasn’t particularly happy, Harry noticed. “In fact, I daresay that I even see Tom in your behaviour, sometimes. You are much more similar than I had thought”, he said, and Harry was suddenly struck by a word. ‘Feared’. Dumbledore was worried because of their similarity! But why?

“We have a lot in common, Professor”, Harry settled on that, not wanting to tell all that he’d found out, like the twin wands, for example. It felt too private.

“I see”, Dumbledore said finally. “Harry, before you go and enjoy your breakfast, I want you to know one thing. Help will always come at Hogwarts to those who  it, and also”, here he paused. “If there is any threat at Hogwarts, there will always be someone to save the day.”

“Sorry?” Harry asked, confused. What was that for? “I… don’t really understand. Is there any threat here?”

“Perhaps not”, said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling again. “Or perhaps there is. You never know, Harry”, he smiled slightly. “Now, off you go, Harry. Off you go.”

After the strange conversation with Dumbledore, there was actually nothing out of the ordinary. Harry kept attending both his classes and his private lessons with Tom. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione didn’t bring the topic up again, however, sometimes Harry would catch them eyeing him suspiciously. Tom had asked Harry to keep everything he taught him secret, so he did. Anyway, Harry wasn’t about to tell his friends what he had been learning. The spells were dark, way darker than anyone would approve. With some of them, like the infamous Protego Diabolica he’d had on his first day, he wasn’t even sure they were allowed in a school. Harry, however, strived to know more, to learn more, and even if he was bothered by the spells Tom taught him sometimes, he didn’t let it show. After all, Tom was so proud of him. He, Harry, was finally worth more than just his name. And that, that was what Harry had ached for all his life.

It was Halloween tonight; the pumpkins were already everywhere, the decorations hung from the ceiling. The spirit of Halloween was in the air, and the students were perfectly happy and cheering. The castle was dark and gloomy, even more so than usual, and ghosts were sliding around, boo-ing and woo-ing and scaring the life out of students and sometimes even teachers. There were no classes today, so Harry could finally relax and enjoy the holiday in hopes nothing would ruin it for him, tonight.

To tell the truth, Harry never really liked Halloween. It was the day his parents died, the Dursleys never let him come trick-or-treating with them, so it wasn’t exactly a happy day. At Hogwarts, though, Halloween was a grand feast with lots of food, decorations, spooky corridors and fun. Harry had learnt to enjoy the evening with Ron and Hermione, sometimes Neville or Ginny who joined them, and just let go. After all, the only horrendous Halloween at Hogwarts he’d had had been during his first year when someone had let out a giant mountain troll. Harry and Ron had had to save Hermione from the escaped troll, and that was how they’d become friends in the first place. So maybe it hadn’t been all that bad… Harry still wondered sometimes whether the professors had ever found out who it had been to let the troll out.

Tonight, it seemed, nothing could go wrong. Harry spent the day with Ron and Hermione, talking and having fun and telling stories and recalling their past years at Hogwarts. Next year would be the last, Harry thought with a sigh. Then they’d have to go and live on their own in this magical world. Harry just had to hope Tom would always be by his side to guide and help him. Harry didn’t want Tom to leave him; he’d actually become rather attached to him.

In the evening there was supposed to be a fancy dinner, as it usually happened at Hogwarts. Harry liked these dinners; he got to hang out with all of his friends and talk to them. Dumbledore would, as usual, say a few words to congratulate them, and then the food would appear, the choice so wide Harry wouldn’t know what to try first. Hermione would, of course, bring a book to read, and Neville would talk about his plants. Perhaps Ron would bring his girlfriend to sit with them? Harry didn’t really like Lavender, but he supposed he could endure her company for Ron. For a moment, Harry pondered what their reactions would be if he had Tom sit with them, but then shook his head. No, this was far too private. His and Tom’s relationship was just for the two of them, and Harry would never let anyone in on it. Except, maybe, Hermione; she seemed to have guessed already, anyway.

It was finally time for the feast; Harry was dressed in his school trousers and one of Dudley’s old shirts that he kind of liked. It was quite a good look together, and Hermione nodded appreciatively; she had long tried to get Harry to take care of himself a bit more. Clothes were a part of it, so Hermione was glad he’d at least tried.

Harry, Ron and Hermione descended the stairs towards the Great Hall where the feast was to be held; they were chatting lively, and Hermione was holding a book in her hand, as usual. Harry opened the door for her and caught Ginny’s eye; she merely smiled at him, but quite weakly. They hadn’t been on good terms for the past few weeks, actually, since there appeared to be something wrong with her. Harry had tried to talk to her, once, but Hermione had told him not to. Harry had refrained from talking to Ginny ever since, but he still wondered what was up with her. Hermione always gave him that pointed look of hers every time he asked, but Harry had no idea what it was supposed to mean.

“Oi, Potter!” Oh no. Out of all people, why did it have to be Malfoy? “Taking care of your Mudblood, I see?”

“Malfoy”, Harry turned around on his heels, fists clenched. He was fully aware that Malfoy was making a scene in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. No one insulted Hermione like that. Malfoy would pay for this. “I wouldn’t dare if I were you.”

Malfoy smirked. “Or what, Potter? Going to hex me? I doubt you have the guts”, he chuckled. “Without your favourite professor around.”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Harry growled.

“As if”, Malfoy taunted. “You know that I’m right, Potter. He clearly favours you; what did you do to earn that, I wonder?”

“Unlike you, I’m actually good at Defence!” Harry gripped his wand in his pocket, ready to take it out and attack at any moment. “Had you been a little more talented, you would’ve had the same marks! I’m the best in our class, and you know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Look at who’s talking”, Malfoy smirked, Crabbe and Goyle suddenly appearing behind him. “Teacher’s pet”, he spat.

“Just like you are Snape’s”, Harry spat back. “Tom is different.”

“Oh it’s Tom now, is it?” Malfoy drawled. “It’s again the question of what you did. Did you sleep with him or something?”

Harry whipped out his wand. “I’d shut up if I were you, Malfoy, or I’ll have to do something to that tongue of yours.”

“Harry”, Hermione pulled his sleeve. “Come on, let’s go, he’s not worth it!”

“Spare me the details, Potter, listen to your Mudblood”, Malfoy continued, not having taken the threat seriously. “Better go do something about Riddle’s tongue, he might be missing you already.”

Harry growled. No, he’d had enough. He hated Malfoy as it was, but he was ready to leave him be if only he’d just shut up. But no, Malfoy wouldn’t, he had to spit out insults one after another, insinuating… that! That Tom was using him, that he was his… whore or something! How dare he!.. Harry bit his lip, curses wanting to spill out of his mouth. Suddenly he recalled this Monday’s class, where Tom had taught them Unforgivable Curses… He’d even demonstrated them on a spider. Later on, during their private session, Tom had gone through them more thoroughly, even using both the Imperius and the Cruciatius on Harry. That was how they’d found out Harry was able to resist the Imperius Curse, and Tom had looked incredibly happy about that. He’d kissed Harry deeply after that demonstration as a sign of his pride.

Harry turned his wand in his fingers, holding it close to Malfoy’s throat. Malfoy was just sneering, apparently refusing to believe Harry was capable of anything. Hermione tugged on his sleeve again, saying, “Harry, leave him! Come on, let’s go sit down!”

“No, Hermione, please, I want to see the git being hexed into oblivion!” Ron pleaded, and when Hermione opened her mouth to answer, Harry suddenly caught Tom’s gaze. His eyes flashed as he was looking at Harry, and he turned back to a jeering Malfoy.

“Well, Potter? Who are you going to listen to this time? Your Mudblood or Riddle?”

That Harry couldn’t bear. Malfoy had just insulted his two favourite people, and Harry wasn’t going to let it go. “Crucio”, he hissed, almost slipping into Parseltongue, and watched in amazement as his first ever Unforgivable hit the target. With Tom, they had only gone through defending oneself against them, but Tom had hinted that in the future he would perhaps teach Harry to use them, as well.

The result surpassed all expectations. Harry’s hatred and passion had worked wonders, and Malfoy had tumbled onto the floor in shock, his mouth wide now. He was gasping and writhing, and Harry felt content rising in his chest. This was for every single time Malfoy had offended him and his friends. This was what he deserved.

Harry held his wand steady, completely engulfed in the sense of power over Malfoy when he suddenly felt someone tug at his sleeve.

“Harry!” Hermione screamed, horrified. “Harry! Let him go, now!”

Harry lowered his wand, and Malfoy sat up, gaping at him like a fish. Then he scrambled up, horrified beyond belief, and ran away so quickly he might not have been there at all. Harry watched his back, and then the realisation of what he’d done hit him. Terrified, Harry dropped his wand onto the floor, sliding down as well, crouching and hiding his face.

“Harry, what the hell?!” Ron screamed. “Don’t tell me you just used an…”

“No need to shout, Ron”, Harry said weakly. “You want everyone to know that?”

“Harry, what’s got into you? What is this?!” Hermione grabbed him by the collar. “I wonder who taught you that! What were you thinking?! Using such a spell! I don’t know you anymore! What is happening?!”

“I don’t know!” Harry shouted, on the verge of tears. “I really don’t, all right? I’m just as horrified as you are, Hermione! Do you think it’s easy to know that you’ve just used… that on someone? Damn, I don’t know what’s going on…”

“Mate, it didn’t look like the first time”, Ron said blankly, his voice quiet and almost broken. “What have you been up to? You’re not Harry anymore, ‘Mione’s right… You don’t even look like him.”

“Ron, it was the first time, I swear!” Harry fumbled for his wand and stood up. “Don’t you see it’s still me? I’m here, I’m your friend!..”

“No, Harry…” Hermione closed her face. “You’re someone else…”

“So you’re telling me Malfoy didn’t deserve it?” Harry asked, suddenly irritated again. “I can bring him back so you can be friends with him instead.”

“Of course he didn’t deserve it!” Hermione screamed, terrified. “No one deserves… that!..”

Harry opened his mouth to answer when he felt hysterical screams bubble up in his throat again. He was panicking, and he knew it. Part of him was utterly horrified, but then there was another… whispering that Malfoy had earned it. After all, it was the intention, not the spell, right? And Malfoy had gone too far this time. Harry was not a bad person, he was not an insane person, he just wanted to protect his friends.

An arm suddenly wrapped around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry glanced up to see Tom standing there. Ron gaped at them, silent, his lips mouthing a constant “no, no, no”. Hermione stood there, not shocked but crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, shaking her head.

“Harry, are you all right?” Tom asked warmly, pulling Harry closer.

Harry shuddered. “No, I… I…” he stammered. “Tom, I used…”

“Not here”, Tom said sharply, eyeing Ron and Hermione with his crimson gaze. “Harry, will you please come with me. I don’t think such a conversation should be held in front of everyone.”

“He’s going nowhere with you, you…” Ron shouted, almost jumping on Tom, when Hermione suddenly grabbed him by the shirt, stopping him.

“He’s not our Harry, Ron”, she whispered. “Look at him…”

“Tom, I…” Harry felt tears fall down his face, too. “I must have lost them forever...” Tom suddenly bent down, slipping his hand under Harry’s knees and picking him up in his arms in front of everyone. “Tom, what are you…”

“Shh, Harry”, Tom whispered. “Come on, my soul. Let’s take this somewhere private.”

And just like that, he walked out of the Great Hall, with Harry in his arms, leaving everyone, including the teachers, stunned. Harry took a last glance at them and noticed Dumbledore sigh, his eyes having lost their twinkle. It looked like surrender.

Tom took Harry to his room. Harry had already been here, so he didn’t really pay attention to the furniture or any part of the room at all; he was gently lowered on the bed, that he knew. Tom sat beside him and carefully put an arm around him again.

“Harry, don’t cry”, he said softly. “I’m sure that whatever it is, it’s not worth it.”

“I… I…” Harry tried to speak, but failed. “It’s just Malfoy…”

“What about him?” Tom asked.

“Malfoy… started saying awful things about Hermione again”, Harry managed finally. “He offended her in front of everyone, you see… So I used… used…” he couldn’t say it. It was impossible. He couldn’t admit it even to himself.

“You used…” Tom pressed, holding Harry closer. “Come on, Harry, tell me. I will not punish you, I promise.”

“The Cruciatus”, Harry blurted out quickly. “I used an Unforgivable on him!”

Was Harry being mistaken, or did Tom’s eyes flash red at his confession?

“Harry”, Tom said softly. “I don’t understand why you’re crying. You did the right thing; you punished him for offending your friends and yourself. It’s completely normal that you wanted revenge.”

“But it’s an Unforgivable!” Harry sobbed. “I… maybe he didn’t deserve it? Hermione said…”

“Don’t think about what Hermione said”, Tom ordered. “Think for yourself. Back then, did it feel right?” Harry nodded weakly, albeit unsure of himself and feeling guilt eat at him for it. “Well”, Tom continued, much softer this time. “Then you did the right thing, Harry.”

“How can it be right?” Harry shook his head, his eyes already dry. “How, Tom? Maybe it is true, what they say, after all? That dark spells lead to insanity. Malfoy is a git, but he’s not evil, maybe he really didn’t deserve it…” Harry choked on his own words. “And how am I better than him then, if I use the same spells as he does?”

“You are better”, Tom said, caressing Harry’s hair in an attempt to calm him down. “Because you were trying to defend yourself and your friends. When did self-defence start to be considered bad? I must have missed it.”

Harry stayed silent. He bit his lip, not really knowing what to say. On the one hand, perhaps Hermione was right, and he was indeed changing? Harry felt it deep down that he was. And at times like this Harry wasn’t entirely sure that he liked what he was turning into. On the other hand… Harry had no reason not to trust Tom. And again, there was a part of him that told him he’d done the right thing. The same part that had used the Cruciatus Curse on Malfoy and felt smug about it. Harry was changing all right. But people changed, after all; why was Harry supposed to be different?

“Harry”, Tom coaxed. “You are powerful. Very powerful. Just like me. You don’t even understand how deeply we are connected… You should put it to good use. Remember, it’s the intention, not the spell… There’s no good and evil. There’s only power and those too weak to seek it.”

“I… I’ve heard that before”, Harry pulled away from Tom, frowning. “That last thing you said. It sounds familiar. And…” he paused, biting his lip. “The connection…” Harry continued reluctantly. “I mean, our connection. Why don’t I understand?..”

“It’s probably time to tell you everything”, Tom said finally. “I want to explain something to you, and I want you to listen to me very carefully, all right?”

Harry nodded expectantly, interest piqued.

“You see, Harry, people have long longed for many powers, Muggles or wizards. It just so happened that the wizards had more means to achieve the goals they wanted. Long ago”, Tom’s voice turned into a half-whisper, and Harry leaned back against him, closing his eyes. “There lived a wizard darker than any, and his name was Herpo the Foul. He experimented with many things, but the one goal he so desperately wanted to achieve was immortality. He wasn’t the only one”, Tom chuckled softly. “Remember Nicholas Flamel? He yearned for the same thing, he, however, created the Philosopher’s Stone and has to drink the elixir constantly.”

“Otherwise he’ll die”, Harry whispered. “I read about him, you know.”

“Wonderful”, Tom smiled. “So, Herpo the Foul wanted to become immortal, but without having to drink a potion he was supposed to create. And he came up with a horrifying, but an ingenious way how to do it.”

“What was it?” Harry perched up, blinking curiously.

“Ripping one’s soul apart”, Tom’s voice was deep and low, as if he were reciting a bedtime story. “When a murder is committed, your soul rips in two pieces. If you time the moment just right, you can take one of those pieces and hide it into an object of your choice. This is called a Horcrux, Harry. A Horcrux acts like an anchor that binds your soul to this world. If your body is destroyed, your soul stays, and you may use your Horcrux or any other ritual you can think of to create yourself another body. This makes you truly immortal.” Tom’s eyes flashed scarlet.

“A Horcrux…” Harry repeated blankly. “It sounds horrible, frankly speaking”, he confessed. “I mean, you have to murder someone and then proceed to ripping your soul apart… Who would subject themselves to this?”

“Herpo the Foul created a Horcrux out of his cloak”, Tom said, somehow annoyed now. “But he also was the first known wizard to hatch a Basilisk. It turns out though… Basilisk venom is one of the only things capable of destroying a Horcrux. The other that I know of is Fiendfyre.”

“Fiendfyre?” Harry choked. “No way! This thing is so powerful that it can destroy a Horcrux?”

“Precisely”, Tom nodded approvingly. “Herpo the Foul died shortly because the Basilisk he’d hatched bit through his cloak and therefore destroyed the Horcrux.”

“Is there a way…” Harry paused. “To, um… not destroy the Horcrux, but, say… to suck the piece of soul in it back out? Make your soul whole again?”

“There is”, Tom’s face contorted. “One way is to feel remorse about the murder you committed, the one that you used to create the Horcrux. Another is to, well, reverse the ritual, so to speak, but then your soul will be extremely fragile.”

“But you will be mortal?” Harry prompted.

“Yes”, Tom pursed his lips. “You will be mortal, because the anchor will no longer exist.”

“And what happens to the, um… the thing?” Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew where Tom was going with this… “The thing you use to create a Horcrux.”

“When you put your soul there?” Tom’s eyes glistened blood red. “Actually, visibly nothing. However, it does leave an… imprint of sorts, perhaps. You can tell that very dark magic has been performed. Dark magic happens to leave traces…” Tom ran his fingers over Harry’s scar. “When you destroy the Horcrux or suck the soul back out, the object… well, it doesn’t break, not really. It is contorted in a way. Because there is no dark magic in there anymore, it leaves a scar, so to speak, on the object itself when it leaves.”

“And is it possible”, Harry was gasping for breath. He needed just this one question, and then he’d know for sure if he was imagining it or not… if it was just a horrifying guess or a harsh reality… “To create… multiple Horcruxes? To split your soul more than once?”

“You’re very smart, Harry”, Tom’s eyes were almost on fire. “Yes, it is. However, only one wizard has ever attempted it. Tampering with your soul is very risky business, Harry. And this one wizard was…”

“You”, Harry breathed, slumping against Tom. His heart was hammering; he couldn’t believe it. Tom, his Tom, he created… that?.. Why? How did he come up with the idea?.. Wasn’t it horrifying to know that you killed someone? How could you use it to… to…

“Harry”, Tom felt his shock and proceeded to hug him again, kissing his temple. “When I was in school, I was just like you. Curious, eager to know more, I grew up with Muggles just like you did. The only thing that I didn’t like was the name of my filthy Muggle father”, Tom’s eyes burned with fury. His handsome features contorted, and Harry was stunned. He’d never seen Tom this way before. But did he know him at all?.. And yet, even like this, Tom was beautiful. “So I made myself a new name, a name all wizards would fear to speak”, Tom said passionately and took out his wand.

He whispered something and wrote in the air, ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’. “I was just like you, Harry”, he said. “I see so much potential in you. You are gifted, you are powerful, capable… Together, we shall finish what I started”, Tom waved the wand once, and the letters proceeded to rearrange themselves, spelling out the phrase Harry never expected to see. In fact, he was shocked, betrayed, even broken-hearted. And yet… he yearned to learn the truth, the whole truth, as he read aloud, whispering to himself, what was written in the air.

‘I am Lord Voldemort’

“You”, Harry breathed. “You!” He was starting to feel hysterical. His life clearly could not get any worse. His Tom, the one he trusted with everything and would trust with much more, was Voldemort? How could that be? Harry felt his heart shatter. “How is this possible?” And yet, he was still slumped against Tom’s stiff body, as if nothing had happened.

“Yes, Harry”, Tom said passionately. “It was I, a half-blood that no one knew, that rose to power and is going to finish what I started! Dumbledore, the old naïve fool, thought he could see right through me, thought he could make me do what he wanted”, Tom paused to grip Harry tighter. “But he never could. He kept an annoyingly close eye on me when I was at school, too. After all, it was I who opened the Chamber of Secrets, I killed Myrtle!”

“And you used her death…” Harry muttered, shocked beyond belief.

“Well, I didn’t exactly kill the girl”, Tom cocked his head to the side. “It was an accident, Harry. I was going to let the Basilisk out, and she was unfortunate enough to be standing there. I didn’t know anyone was nearby. She died at once when she looked into the Basilisk’s eyes. But yes”, Tom’s eyes were gleaming blood red now. “By that time, I already knew what Horcruxes were, but didn’t dare to try. But she was there, dead, and I had my diary with me. That, my dear Harry, was the perfect moment to try and see whether I could do it. Whether I was strong enough!”

“And the rest?” Harry blurted out. “You killed what, four more people to make the rest? It’s horrible!”

“Harry, what I told you earlier is all true”, Tom said patiently. “I grew up in an orphanage where no one knew who I was, they bullied me and made me suffer. So I made them suffer too,” he smirked. “And then I found out from an old newspaper that one Morfin Gaunt tortured a Muggle named Tom Riddle. Yes, Harry”, Tom’s eyes shone. “I went to see my father. I was sixteen or seventeen, I believe, at the time; I wanted to talk to him, to find out why he’d left all those years ago! And he just asked me how much money I wanted to never come back to the village”, Tom grit his teeth. “So I drew my wand, and well”, his lips curved in a sneer. “It turns out Muggles can’t handle Avada Kedavra.”

“Your second Horcrux”, Harry said, shaking his head, refusing to believe all of this. “Which one was it?”

“The ring”, said Tom with a fire in his eyes. “My grandfather on my mother’s side had it; I took it, as I felt it belonged to me.”

“And the rest?” Harry was on the verge of screaming. Tom was speaking about all of it so calmly… how could he? What was going on? “The Diadem, the Cup and the… locket, was it?”

“Oh, these are not important”, Tom said, his handsome face looking so corrupted by evil and yet somehow making him even more handsome. “You see, Harry, let me tell you what happened next. I made these five Horcruxes, and I rose to power. I never wanted a war, Harry; I wanted people to understand my point of view. All was going well until Dumbledore heard the blasted prophecy.”

“The prophecy?” Harry felt utterly confused. “Is there a prophecy about you?”

“You don’t know?” Tom was clearly taken aback. “One would think Dumbledore would’ve told you. Well, even better. The prophecy states that there will be a child born as the seventh month dies to the parents who defied me thrice. And I shall mark him as my equal, and he will have the power I know not.”

“Born as the seventh month dies”, Harry whispered. “You don’t mean to say that the prophecy is about… me?”

“Yes, Harry”, Tom held him tighter. “You see, we are bound even by fate itself. What better sign than this that we are destined for each other?”

“But isn’t that… a bit far-fetched?” Harry frowned. “I… I don’t understand. Even if we say it’s true… I don’t have any power you don’t know of, and you certainly never marked me as your equal…” Harry blushed and looked down.

“As a matter of fact, it turns out I did”, Tom whispered. “Now”, he said with a small smile. “Shall we continue?”

“I… all right”, Harry agreed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest, but he had to. He had to find out everything he could.

“So, I heard the prophecy”, Tom said, an angry fire returning to his eyes. “And that fool Dumbledore thought he could hide it from me. I found out, nevertheless, and I set out to kill the boy. I never wanted to kill your parents, Harry”, Tom shook his head. “I only wanted to get you.”

“You can have me now”, Harry hung his head. “We’re all alone, and no one will know.” He gave up. He didn’t want to do it anymore. His Tom was Voldemort, a monster. Harry still felt the same for him, though, and that was what scared him. He wanted to get up and run, but he was being held so close that he couldn’t even move.

“Oh no, Harry”, Tom shook his head slowly. “I will never, ever kill you. You are mine”, he breathed and leaned down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss.

Harry kissed back without thinking but then pulled away immediately, horrified. “Tom… what is the meaning of this?”

“You see, Harry”, Tom said calmly. “The night I killed your parents, my soul was unstable. Much too unstable. When my curse rebounded, a shard of my soul broke off and found its way into the only living being it could find.”

“Me…” Harry choked on his breath. “Tom, you don’t mean…”

“Yes”, Tom’s eyes flashed crimson. “You are my soul, Harry. My Horcrux. The one I treasure the most.”

“I… I don’t understand…” Harry breathed, still choking. What… what was going on? Tom’s soul was inside him? He’d been a Horcrux… this entire time? Harry’s hand flew to his scar, and the realisation struck him. Horcruxes leave traces… and Harry’s scar was clearly a trace. It was impossible, it should be!.. And yet it happened, and Harry was a Horcrux. Somehow that thought made him scared beyond belief, but not… uncomfortable. Harry had always known Tom and he shared a special connection… “What happened to the other Horcruxes, then? Why are they destroyed, but not this one?”

“When my body was destroyed, I found myself in Albania where I stayed for the next ten years”, Tom explained. “That’s where Quirrell found me.”

“Quirrell…” Harry shook his head. “Tom, you don’t mean…”

“Yes, I possessed him”, Tom nodded and pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, Dumbledore saw right through the plan. He got me to talk. I was very weak, plus in Quirrell’s body, and the Veritaserum worked just fine”, Tom shifted uncomfortably. “This is how Dumbledore found out about tge Horcruxes. I was so afraid to die like this that I promised to suck my Horcruxes back in to make myself mortal again, and only then did Dumbledore agree to let me live.”

“You tricked him…” Harry closed his eyes in defeat.

“No, not really”, Tom said. “Back then I didn’t know about you. I only found out recently when you said there was a part of you that belonged to me. This is why you speak Parseltongue, Harry, this is why you feel the Horcruxes even though they’re long gone; there is a part of you that belongs to me.”

“So what happened?” Harry asked finally, completely broken. He wanted to know the ending. He had to.

“After several years Dumbledore finally let me out”, Tom’s handsome face contorted. “He still wanted to keep a watch on me so he had me teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. I wasn’t planning on anything, not really, but then I met you. You were just like me, and I enjoyed your company. I knew I wanted you by my side, Harry. I love you as much as I can love at all, I suppose.”

That didn’t make Harry feel one bit better. He was broken, he was hopeless. He didn’t know what to do. He had changed, and he couldn’t just go back to the way it had been before Tom. But go with him?.. Harry couldn’t do it.

“Dumbledore is an old fool”, Tom said passionately. “He tried to make me mortal, but he failed. I have my most precious Horcrux by my side, and I will never let you go again.”

“I can’t…” Harry said. “Let me go, Tom!” he screamed suddenly, surprising both Tom and himself. “Let me go!”

Tom let go more out of surprise than anything, and Harry took off running. He didn’t look back or around himself, he just ran through the hallways that he knew so well. Now they didn’t seem familiar at all. It was beginning to rain; Harry heard a light drizzle outside. He looked out into the wild and almost shrieked when he saw his own reflection in the window. Harry couldn’t bear seeing Tom in himself, but he just couldn’t help it. Tom was inside of him no matter what he did and where he went. So Harry ran down the stairs, making his way outside and falling down onto the ground, trying to contain his screams.

“Harry!” someone shrieked, and Harry sat up slightly to see a worried Ginny running his way. “Harry, we’ve been looking for you!”

Harry didn’t reply; he was afraid that if he did, he’d break down and start crying or shouting.

“Harry, what’s wrong? Harry, are you crying?” Ginny knelt beside him, taking his face in her hands. “Oh Merlin, Harry, will you tell me what happened? Ron and Hermione are worried sick! They’re really sorry for what they said to you, whatever it is! Harry, come back, you’ll get sick!”

Harry felt anger bubbling inside him. How dare she? Ron and Hermione said they didn’t know him anymore, how could he trust her? Trust Ginny Weasley who’d been holding a grudge on him for weeks?

“I’m sorry I was avoiding you”, Ginny said then. “It was my fault, I was trying to deal with my… my feelings”, she bit her lip. “Harry, please. Talk to me! You can’t hold it all in!”

This was probably what set it off. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out; just a loud scream. Harry shouted at the top of his lungs, feeling betrayed, lost, confused, broken, many other things… He didn’t want to talk to Ginny, he wanted to talk to Tom, Tom was the one he needed, now and forever… But how could he? Harry felt like he needed to cry, but there were no tears left, and so he screamed, almost deafening himself, angry at himself, Tom, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore… They had all contributed to this situation, and yet there was no one to blame but Harry who had been drawn in by a devilish Tom Riddle and now couldn’t get out.

Finally, the screams stopped; Harry regained his breath and tried to calm himself down, wiping sweat and tears off his face and catching his breath. Then he looked around, vaguely recalling a conversation he’d had with Ginny. Harry looked down and fell onto his knees, gasping in shock. Ginny was there, but she was lying unconscious and unmoving; Harry crawled closer to check her pulse, panicking, and felt his heart stop when he realised there was no pulse. No heartbeat. Ginny Weasley was dead.

“No, no, Ginny! Come on, please don’t be dead… please don’t be dead…” Harry muttered on and on as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He was a monster. He killed Ginny. Like Tom had killed Myrtle all those years ago. How could he? Yes, Harry was annoyed by Ginny sometimes, but she was his friend! No matter what. And he did that… How could he? Harry closed his eyes in defeat. Maybe he had really changed so much. Maybe… maybe there never was another way for him. Maybe the Horcrux in him made him bad… or Merlin knows what.

Harry didn’t know. He just sat there, on the ground, looking at Ginny’s pale motionless body and forcing himself not to faint. That couldn’t be possible. He was a murderer. How could he?!

A gust of wind blew suddenly, and Harry’s face was all wet now from the rain. All of a sudden, something slapped against Harry’s arm; he took it and realised it was a train ticket. ‘Platform 9 ¾’, it read. Someone must have dropped it upon arrival… “So this is where the Hogwarts Express took me in the end”, Harry muttered darkly. “To being a murderer…”

“Harry”, came a voice from behind. Harry turned around and saw Tom standing there, a few metres away from him. “What is it that you’re holding?”

“A train ticket”, Harry whispered hoarsely. “Nothing particular.”

“Look at where it brought you”, Tom said softly, approaching him. “Look how powerful you are. I saw that explosion of yours, it was marvellous. Look at what you have achieved, my dear Harry. And all of that because of a train ticket.”

Harry just sat there, at a loss for words.

“Maybe…” Tom stood next to him, offering his hand. “Maybe it’s time for the ticket to serve you one last time? Will you let it take you down your final journey?”

Harry felt his heart beating in his chest so hard it almost hurt. But then he looked into Tom’s eyes that were so clearly scarlet now, and felt his own eyes change, too. A strange sense of calm washed over Harry, and he put his hand into Tom’s. “Will you guide me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course”, Tom said, helping him up. “I promised to never leave your side, didn’t I?”

It was late as two dark-clad figures left the grounds. The sun had long set, and all the lights had gone out in the whole castle. The rain was pouring, and Harry could feel large drops bumping off his cloak and the ticket he was holding in his hand. Now it was the most precious thing for him, and he knew he would always keep it by his side. No wonder… it was his first one. He fastened his cloak around his neck and hurried to synchronise his steps with Tom, knowing he would never come back. It was late, and only two girls could be heard talking in the castle, voices low, about how they died. One had long and dark ponytails and round glasses, and the other had red hair and freckles.