Behind Lies Eternity

“How did you find me?!” Harry demanded, his face flushing with anger. “I checked myself for tracking charms!” Tom seemed to be in a trance. “Your boots,” he pointed downward. “This morning.” “Damn it!” Harry cursed, then a chuckle escaped him. “Should have guessed; I pulled the same trick on you once.” He didn’t resemble someone who had just tried to end his own life. He looked unhinged. Tom’s focus sharpened when the door slammed shut behind him. He had cast tracking charms on Harry’s boots, hastily thrown a sweater over his pajamas, concealed himself with an invisibility spell, and trailed Harry. His mind wrestled against what he was witnessing. He didn’t deliberate, he just followed, descended into the cavity in the floor, navigated through the bone-littered passage to the round hatch adorned with serpentine engravings, and still harbored hope that this was some sort of misdirection. That the colossal skin discarded on the floor like a cast-off sock was something else entirely… And then his thoughts ceased altogether as he spotted Harry in the flickering light of a lone torch, wand pressed to his temple. Harry’s face was scrunched, breaths loud and uneven as if mustering courage, and then… “Avada…” Tom disarmed Harry quicker than a thought of how beneficial his cousin’s demise could be for him could cross his mind. Only when the warm foreign wand slid into his palm did the realization hit - the Tom Riddle from early fifth year had been bested. The present Tom wouldn’t let Harry go. Fear clutched his throat with razor-sharp talons at the mere thought that Harry would no longer take his hand, embrace him, speak to him. These forbidden feelings choked him, impeding rational thought. Although Harry was naive, emotional, impulsive, and frail, he was the only one who mattered to Tom. “The same?” Tom inquired again. “You trailed me?” “Your shoes, to be precise,” Harry grinned wildly. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?” His mind churned properly now, and Tom seamlessly pieced it together. This was the authentic Chamber of Secrets. Previously, Harry had enticed him into a replica, akin to the one Tom had orchestrated for the pureblooded dolts. He conjured a radiant light and scanned the area. This hall was vast and so… majestic. It mirrored exactly how Tom envisioned the true Chamber of Secrets: monumental, ancient, sinister, and absolutely awe-inspiring. The colossal statue of Salazar Slytherin was overpowering, rendering one an insignificant speck at the threshold of a deity’s dwelling. The snakes entwined around the columns resembled live anacondas; their scales glistened as though a millennium hadn’t elapsed since their forging. The ancient splendor was utterly breathtaking. “Why?” was all Tom could muster. He knew Harry was here to search for the Chamber of Secrets, but this deception… Tom was shattered. Perhaps that’s why he allowed himself to blurt out, “Who sent you here? The Gaunts? Someone else, more sinister? Grindelwald himself? What did they promise if you turned against your own cousin?” There, he said it out loud. “Cousin?” Harry’s grin, which previously held a touch of madness, faded. “What cousin?” “Don’t play the fool!” Tom yelled threateningly, brandishing both wands at him. “You’re my cousin, and you know it! You speak Parseltongue, you’ve been tailing me, you know about my family, my father, the Gaunts!” “I know nothing, what Gaunts, what Parseltongue?!” Harry retorted. He was going to deny it to the end. Even standing in the Chamber of Secrets. “This Parseltongue. The one we’re speaking right now,” Tom snarled, baring his teeth. Harry’s expression altered, a flicker of astonishment crossed his face before that crooked grin returned. “How did you figure it out?” “I knew you were in the orphanage. I saw that you recognized me. And I deduced how you managed to make the snakes cross over to my side of the room,” Tom fibbed slightly. “Then I performed a test.” He retrieved a vial from his pocket, a potion he always carried with him, encased in a small sphere. Where else but in the Chamber of Secrets, their shared heritage, to make Harry admit to the kinship? “Oh,” Harry peered at the vial with the red substance in wonder. “How did you even… Though, what was I even hoping for. You’re the smartest of your generation, of course, you pieced it all together. I turned out to be a rubbish spy. And in this potion… Is it really blood from this body? Are you certain?” “What do you mean—from this body? Do you have another body?” Tom’s mind scrambled to keep up. “The blood in the potion is from the day we fought. I broke your nose, remember? Your blood splattered on my notes, and I collected it for the test. We’re second or third cousins.” Harry mulled over this deeply before erupting into laughter. “Merlin, you couldn’t be any more ironic if you tried!” he hollered into the void, his eyes meeting Tom’s. “Riddle, my condolences, but Gordian Selwyn indeed was your cousin. Through his grandmother, I presume. She got quite twitchy when I inquired about her parents. Perhaps the Selwyns snatched her from the Gaunts hoping to inherit the gift of Parseltongue, but granny turned out to be a bit bonkers, chatting with snakes only during her Slytherin days. My deepest condolences, but your cousin is dead. I merely borrowed his body for a while.” “Explain,” Tom flicked his wands, sparks flew from both ends. “Who are you? Why are you here? Who have you been constantly communicating with?” “Well,” Harry’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion, “you’d have unearthed the truth sooner or later. My name is Harry Potter, and I’m here because of you. Technically, I don’t exist in this world, only my soul does. And it’s solely you keeping me tethered to this world in Gordian’s body, through our connection. As for who sent me here… Tom Riddle from a parallel universe did, with the aid of the ancient goddess Shesmetet. That’s who I’ve been chatting with; the bitch finds amusement in watching me suffer.” Tom felt a need to sit down. He didn’t doubt Harry’s words for a moment. He had suspected something of this sort, but reality surpassed all expectations. “Why?” he shivered, maybe from the cold or maybe from the fantastical reality unfolding. “How?” He was standing in a place deserted for centuries, about which legends were spun, listening to the most unbelievable tale of his life. “You see, in my world, you’re dead. You committed horrendous acts and squandered your chance at rebirth. Our souls, post-death, travel to the realm of the dead, from where they are dispatched back to the realm of the living; it’s an endless cycle of reincarnation. And one day, you from another world appeared in my mirror. When you learned that your soul couldn’t reincarnate anymore, you were… upset, to put it mildly. Heartbroken would be closer to the truth. You wished for me to travel back in time to prevent your annihilation. And here I am,” he jested with a bow, sweeping his hand. It sounded ludicrous, but Tom had long realized that the most ludicrous scenarios in the wizarding world often turned out to be true. “How is this possible? I’ve read about time travel, it’s…” he suddenly recalled a tale of a witch who spent five days in the medieval era. Upon her return, temporal anomalies began, much like this summer, and all time-research in the Department of Mysteries was halted under a death threat to anyone who dared continue. “Who is this goddess?” “I don’t know! She’s sentient, resides in a statuette. She took my soul and shoved it into deceased Gordian’s body, and now I live here.” “But why you specifically?” he attempted to catch the imposter off guard. “Oh, that’s yet another amusing story!” Harry grinned madly again, his eyes seeming inhuman in the dim torchlight. “You see, our connection… it’s almost a thousand years old. Thanks to it, we’re born almost at the same time and always find each other. And, by your own words, in all the worlds the other you saw, we are married everywhere, except here. I saw only one version of us. They didn’t resemble us much, I was a shorty, you were some pompous official in fancy clothes, but our daughter was simply adorable.” “I feel unwell,” Tom notified, sitting on the cold, slippery base of a column. His head was spinning, a slight nausea creeping in. “Oh, imagine how bad I felt!” Harry burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “I nearly lost my mind when I saw you in my mirror. Then woke up in the past, in another person’s body, buried in the ground by some maniac. And no matter what I do, everything just keeps getting worse! I changed the future, but for the worse. I destroyed thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives. And it’s all because of you, you fucking bastard! And you still tread the same path that will lead to your annihilation!” He finally stopped his hysterical laughter and coughed. “If all this is true, then why did I see the Gaunts in your mind?” Tom clung to the last straw that could expose the imposter. “Seen the Gaunts? Ah yes… Of course, you didn’t miss a chance to rummage through my thoughts,” he wheezed. “I accidentally,” Tom somehow found himself justifying, “Caught glimpses on the surface, but never attempted again…” He cut himself off, realizing that this was not his cousin. His cousin was dead, and this imposter… This imposter was his husband. In the body of his cousin. And he came from the future. Tom nearly burst into hysterical laughter following Harry. Absurd! This can’t be! “They were the memories of a Ministry official about your family,” Harry settled down on the base of the neighboring column. “Your grandfather Marvolo was quite the bastard, he’s in Azkaban now, by the way. And your Uncle Morfin… he’s more of a parody of a human. In the future, you’re sort of a celebrity. And not in the eternal glory and honor kind of way, believe me.” “I can’t believe it,” Tom shook his head. “I thought you were my cousin, sent to Hogwarts to search for the Chamber of Secrets, and that was strange enough, but a husband from the future! This is totally…” “Hey, I’m not your husband, the other us were spouses, but not us,” Harry protested. “I grew up hearing tales about you, the most horrible and vilest wizard loathed by the entire magical world.” “If I was such a villain, why didn’t you kill me?” Tom inquired absently. “Why did you leave me money? Why… come to aid in the bathroom? Why let our connection develop, why preach to me, why? If I hadn’t committed terrible deeds yet, my soul would have just moved on to the cycle of rebirth. You could’ve killed me back in the orphanage when you stared through my window. And nothing would have been ruined. So why, Harry?” “I…” The latter froze, like a thief caught red-handed, and shamefully lowered his eyes. “I’m no killer.” Everything began to add up. Initially, he didn’t plan to help Tom, didn’t plan to confess about their connection, all his actions spoke volumes about it. Perhaps he hoped to sever it and kill Tom. But this was Harry. He was too noble; he could do neither. “That’s certain, you’re no killer. But you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for the salvation of others, that I grasped for sure,” Tom pressed on. “You would repent, smear snot over your cheeks, but do what’s best for the rest. And if I’m such a villain, why am I still alive?” He pulled at their connection and felt his bright, burning emotions. “You don’t want to kill me. You can’t.” His mood brightened, despite the surrealism of the situation, the betrayal, the loss of a presumed cousin. Gordian Selwyn was a detestable piece of human garbage, Tom could never accept him. But Harry… He wasn’t just family. He, Harry Potter, belonged entirely to Tom, utterly, with his whole soul. A millennium-old bond, which collided them for eternity in all existing worlds, the bond that was so deep they could see through each other’s eyes. He himself sent Harry here, to aid himself, and wasn’t mistaken — Harry couldn’t kill him, but could help Tom protect him from himself, could make him stronger! Tom’s head spun again, now from greedy ecstasy. Everything was falling into place, and the unraveling of the mystery turned out much more unique and significant than anyone could imagine. Surely even Dumbledore couldn’t boast knowing what Tom was hearing now! “It’s not that I couldn’t,” Harry clenched his hands together and dropped his head on them. “I didn’t want to. Even knowing what you did, I still… I wanted to believe you could change. I’m an idiot.” “We’ve discussed this,” Tom didn’t anticipate the softness in his tone, but unexpectedly, he didn’t have the urge to destroy everything in sight. He simply looked at Harry and saw a broken, lost boy he wanted to shield from life’s cruelties. “Everyone has their version of truth. You can never please everyone, Harry; it’s a futile endeavor. There’s no absolute good or evil; there’s only power, control, and will. You aim to mold me to your ideals, but I have my own.” “Merlin,” Harry chuckled softly, burying his face in his hands. “You know, at sixteen, I sincerely believed in the dichotomy of good and evil. I thought you were the epitome of villainy, yet couldn’t understand why so many wizards rallied behind you. They must be insane, I reasoned. Perhaps you intimidated, deceived, or enticed them. I couldn’t fathom that they were genuinely fighting for their rights, their traditions, which seemed so alien to me. But now… having heard them all, I see. A schism is inevitable, and it’s not your fault. It’s destined to happen regardless. We’re doomed.” Tom listened as if hypnotized, absorbing Harry’s despair, resignation, and hopelessness. A fire ignited within him, not of fleeting rage or strong desire, but of understanding and acceptance. He too had been that way until Harry came along. “Tell me about your world,” he requested. “What atrocities did I commit?” “A plethora of horrific acts,” Harry shook his head. “You murdered ruthlessly, razed towns and villages, shattered families, and committed such atrocities that it felt like a nightmarish fantasy. You lost your sanity due to the rituals you performed on yourself. Eventually, no one wanted to fight for you, but the fear of death kept them at your side. Yet, some of your followers found their courage, betrayed you, and you perished.” Tom could feel the truth in his words, yet struggled to accept it. He could never become that… why? He never craved senseless killing or had inherent cruelty. He had witnessed genuinely cruel individuals who reveled in others’ sufferings. Tom enjoyed meting out punishment, exacting vengeance, and detested those who wronged him. Yes, he was indifferent to others’ lives, valuing only his own. But to obliterate towns and villages? For what? To rule over desolation? What had he done to transform into a monster even his followers would betray? “And the other me? What was he like?” Tom was genuinely intrigued. Parallel worlds! The concept was beyond his comprehension. “He was… quite like you. Not physically, but something elusive… perhaps the aura? When I saw him, I knew it was you, despite the different appearance. He’s a high-ranking official in the ministry, all polished, pompous, and evidently accustomed to command. He and that world’s Harry go by the Potter-Gaunt surname, have three kids, live in a beautiful house, see a family therapist, and amuse themselves by exploring other worlds, aiding their other selves. They were born at the same time, attended school together. Grindelwald killed Harry’s parents, then tried to kill him too, but you saved them both, yourself and your Harry. In that world, you retained your sanity, didn’t commit follies, and are steadily gaining control over the Ministry.” “Utter nonsense,” Tom stretched his stiff shoulders, realizing he could no longer feel his toes from the cold. “Me, a father of many… It’s…” He had never contemplated continuing the lineage. Why bother when he intended to live forever? “Is that all that irks you? What about the marriage and family therapy?” Harry snorted. “When I saw how they… um, interacted, it was downright surreal. I still can’t come to terms with it. It’s just unbelievable. Merlin, it feels good to share this with someone! I’ve been living with this information for nearly a year. Now you can suffer alongside me.” Tom glanced at him and managed a faint smile. Harry looked miserable and offended, utterly fragile in this vast menacing hall. The darkness seemed to creep towards him from every corner, only kept at bay by the orb of light Tom had conjured. “Strangely enough, I can imagine that,” he pondered Harry’s words and found them quite natural. “Our connection…” “Don’t even start!” Harry interrupted. “We must sever it and free ourselves.” This thought met with unexpected strong resentment. It felt as if he was given something precious, something that solely belonged to him, and then someone attempted to snatch it away. Besides Muggles, Tom despised nothing more than losing what was rightfully his. “So, do you know how to do it? Where did this connection come from?” he inquired calmly, casting warming charms on himself. After a thought, he cast some on Harry too, as his lips had turned blue. “The other you said it’s so ancient, it’s impossible to trace who or why bound us,” Harry sighed dejectedly, hiding his face in his hands. “One thing’s clear — it’s man-made. One of us did it, but I have no clue how or why. Soul magic is so unexplored it’s astonishing. How can it be just us caught in this predicament? Over centuries, did no one else bind their souls this way? I find it hard to believe!” Tom eyed him again and thought he might have created this bond. Even now, he loathed the idea of letting Harry go, of breaking their ties. It was easy to imagine that once he met Harry, he decided to tie them together for eternity. “What about the Chamber of Secrets?” he rushed to change the subject, attempting to divert Harry from thoughts of severing the bond. “How did you know where it was? Why the charade?” “I know it from you,” Harry grumbled. “You told me. You would have opened it and killed the girl, and honestly, parading a basilisk around the school is a terrible idea. Don’t even hope I’d let you do that.” Tom involuntarily felt a sense of shame for that version of himself who intended to unleash the basilisk. The idea was indeed ludicrous, but he was so obsessed with frightening everyone, showcasing who he truly was. It was childishly impetuous. “I want to see it. I hope it’s bigger than that skeleton you amusingly tossed my way? Because of you, I had a breakdown back then.” Tom indeed understood Harry’s motives. He would’ve acted the same way, or even worse, in his position. “Oh come on, I was trying to save the kids from death,” Harry retorted, throwing his hands up in the air. “The basilisk is massive, you saw the skin, right? And you’ll see it because the basilisk needs to be ki…” he suddenly jittered, jumping to his feet in a fluster. “No, no. Killing it is not the answer. Grindelwald has seized the German Ministry, which shouldn’t have happened. What if the school needs protection?” “What?” Tom felt a sudden urge to stupefy Harry, to still his ramblings. “More on Grindelwald, please. How did it end in your world?” The news of a living basilisk didn’t disturb him as he had assumed. He had come to terms with its death and removed it from his plans. But if Harry managed to incite Grindelwald to attack England… “In my world, he never seized the Ministry. He was supposed to die in ’45, but now I’m not so sure. Merlin, what am I to do? Riddle! You must cast Avada at me.” Tom merely arched an eyebrow, concealing his inner panic. “That’s unexpected,” he summed up. “You think dying will set things right? Hate to burst your bubble, but I won’t kill you. Nor will I allow you to kill yourself.” He waved the foreign wand, reminding Harry who had the upper hand. Memories of corpses under rubble, their crushed skulls and guts spilling out, crept into his mind. “No, you don’t get it,” Harry exclaimed. “I won’t die. If we use Avada, I’ll find myself between the worlds, and can glimpse into the future. I need to know what Grindelwald will do.” “Sounds like a solid plan. As solid as traveling back in time. So, back then, near the orphanage and in Hogsmeade, you really died?” A cold shiver ran down his spine. “Temporarily,” Harry shrugged. “Thanks to you, I came back. Makes me wonder, had you not been there, would I have returned? Hmm… Probably not.” Tom recalled Ekrizdis and his experiments with the soul, realizing their bond didn’t merely connect them. If he kept Harry from death, he could ensure Harry kept him from death as well. He could fortify their bond further, making them both immortal. Merlin! It was simply grandiose! Together, they could reach such heights! Tom’s head spun again; he was bursting with elation, with excitement. He had acquired what he hadn’t even dared to dream of. “We will not be testing that,” he said firmly, also rising to his feet. “You’re not risking yourself anymore. No Avadas, no dubious ventures somewhere you’re unprotected. It’s early to panic about Grindelwald; I don’t think you could’ve influenced his life in any way. Seizing the Ministry doesn’t mean he won’t die when he’s supposed to.” “What’s this ‘we’?” Harry bristled instantly. “You probably think you can decide for me now? Here’s news, Tom: nothing’s changed. I’m not your property, and I’ll do what I deem necessary. Give me back my wand!” This ‘Tom’ suddenly appealed to him immensely. It sounded special, not like a silly Muggle name, but something significant, yet mundane, familiar, warm. “You see,” he said calmly, twirling Harry’s wand between his fingers, “I’ve realized something important about you, Harry. You don’t solve problems. You just stumble into new ones. You’re utterly disorganized, incapable of planning, impulsive, and hot-headed. And since we’re tied together, and your life impacts mine, I’ll be responsible for both of us.” He knew he was overstepping, but couldn’t help it. He wanted to surround Harry from all sides, wanted to retain him by any means. The demon inside awoke again, roaring, asserting that this person belonged to him. He recalled how he didn’t want to let go of the fence bars, how he screamed when the orphanage nurse pried his little fingers off the cold metal. He waited for someone to come for him, and now the moment had arrived. They came for him, cared for him, wanted to save him from a dreadful fate. Harry didn’t understand this yet, but they were something greater than a family. Harry transcended space and time for him, unknowingly, not grasping who they were to each other. It was fate, sheer inevitability — to be tied together forever, until the worlds cease to exist. “You’re saying I’m so worthless that I can’t even save myself?” Harry flared up instantly. “And you, our shining light, are ready to take responsibility for me, the foolish fool?” “No,” Tom replied softly. He approached Harry, placing the wand back into his icy slender fingers. “I don’t think you’re worthless. I just see how hard this situation is hitting you. I’ve been there, you saw it. I know what it feels like — to feel helpless, to be unable to change anything.” His fingers lingered on Harry’s, Tom was trying to untangle the bundle of contradictions engulfing Harry. It felt as though Harry wanted to trust Tom, but something was holding him back. “And you don’t feel it anymore?” Harry was gazing at their intertwined fingers, as if enchanted. “No,” Tom lightly caressed them. “You helped me overcome it. It used to be unbearable to be me. I’d punish myself for feeling fear or emotional torment, yet I couldn’t stop feeling, and it made me feel helpless, worthless, pathetic. Like I just wasn’t trying hard enough. But then you came along and showed me that I just need to accept myself, turn feelings into a weapon. Like the Patronus. And suddenly, I wasn’t pathetic or worthless. I was wasting energy on what I didn’t need, closing many doors for myself. You helped me realize that, and I just want to return the favor. I’m good at making plans, and you’re not. Just trust me.” For a moment, it seemed that Harry had indeed believed him, had surrendered, but the moment passed. “I can’t,” He pulled his hand free and turned away, gripping the wand tighter. “It’s not about you not managing, of course you will. It’s about how you’ll do it.” “If you’d told me where I went wrong, things would be different,” Tom didn’t want to let him go. He firmly grasped Harry’s shoulder and pulled him close, pressing his chest against his back. “I don’t want to become a monster, I don’t want to commit senseless murders. What did I do, Harry?” “You delved into dark magic,” Harry didn’t resist. He froze, not trying to break free, but couldn’t relax either. “Dark magic is not what they say it is. The other you from the mirror said it’s dangerous because it… Cultivates all your worst traits, strengthens them. It seems like dark magic doesn’t deplete your magical reserve, but drains emotions, which is why it’s accessible even to wizards who are almost squibs. I didn’t quite understand, I’m not a genius, but it seemed like he knew what he was talking about. Do you understand anything?” Tom thought hard, recalling everything he knew about dark magic. There was never a suggestion that it used emotional reserve instead of magical, but now it seemed obvious. Even a complete lack of talent, like Carrow, could use it. It was traditionally believed that dark magic was simply more powerful and only accessible to purebloods, that it was like a congenital talent, inherited. But if the other him claimed otherwise, Tom was inclined to believe it. “Yes, I understand,” he said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder tighter. “Most dark spells are designed so that you have to want to cause someone pain, you have to feel a real desire to kill or maim, frighten, immobilize, destroy. Probably he, that is, I, meant that constantly experiencing these emotions, you get used to them; they become the only norm, and eventually, you just stop seeing anything positive. It’s a very interesting theory…” “I understand that too,” Harry twitched. “I tried to use Cruciatus, I remember how crushing my hatred was. But I didn’t become like you. I saw what you turned into; you didn’t even have a nose, you were just… some otherworldly creature. And now I’ve come to know you, and you’re completely different, nothing like that monster. How could dark magic shatter a personality like that? I just can’t believe it.” Tom suddenly realized that Harry was right. It wasn’t just about the dark magic. He hated himself so much, despised himself so much that he almost reconfigured everything about himself, ripped something out of himself root and branch, and got rid of it. He was so close to it earlier in the year… But then Harry came along, and everything changed drastically. Now he felt entirely different. The mere thought of what he might have done had Harry not appeared sent shivers down his spine. It was horrifying to recall how he’d torn his own heart into shreds, how he’d tormented himself over and over, how he despised everything around him. He remembered sitting by some shed in Knockturn Alley. The small canopy above hardly sheltered him from the icy slanting rain; he was hungry, shivering from the cold. At that moment, the only satisfaction came from imagining how he would find the Chamber of Secrets, release the Basilisk, and kill them all: Black, Burke, Lestrange, Dolohov, Malfoy. The burning hatred for the world gave him the strength to endure and await his moment of triumph. “Who knows,” he evaded a direct answer. “That future no longer exists. I don’t intend to destroy myself; I want to be something more than a noseless, malicious dark wizard. Speaking of which, seriously? A nose?” He tilted his head and nudged Harry’s ear with the cold tip of his nose, causing Harry to hiss like an angered kneazle and wriggle out of his grasp. This was what he had now. This was what satisfied him, what gave him strength and confidence that he could handle anything. It was his and his alone. “Seriously, you had no nose!” Harry sprang back a fair distance, draining Tom of amusement. “And no hair. You were bald, red-eyed, with scales instead of skin, and your eyes were red like an albino’s. A gruesome sight.” “Show me?” Tom stepped towards him, not wanting to lose their contact. He needed to feel Harry to anticipate his further reactions. They were treading on thin ice now; he was unpredictable and too volatile. “I don’t want you poking around in my head,” Harry resisted. “You already play too big a role in my destiny.” “I don’t intend to invade your private thoughts,” retorted Tom. All he wanted at this moment was to get Harry back in his grasp. “Just show me my face. Consider it shock therapy.” Suddenly, a loud crunch echoed through the pipes from afar, reminding Harry and Tom that they were in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom had forgotten about it for a few minutes. “Damn,” Harry lowered his voice. “Let’s get out of here! The basilisk seems to be asleep, but who knows how sensitive it is. And we need to close the passage; students will be waking up soon. By the way, if you wake it up, I’ll kill you, and I won’t even bother to smear snot over my cheeks.” Tom didn’t believe him. “I won’t,” he promised, but still grabbed his catch by the hand. “Let’s go. I wouldn’t mind exploring everything here, but I don’t want any professors discovering this room.” He actually wanted to explore everything right away, but not with Harry around. “I don’t believe you,” Harry said suspiciously. “You want to come back here when I’m not around.” “What do you mean, not around?” Tom pulled him along, tuning into the surrounding sounds. He had read extensively about basilisks and didn’t want to put Harry in danger. “You’ll vanish someday?” The thought sent a cold whirlwind through him, freezing his insides. Tom had no idea how time travel worked. What if Harry really did just disappear one day? He disliked that idea so much it surprised him. “No,” Harry answered, but Tom sensed his confusion through their bond. “The temporal passage is already closed. I won’t vanish, just… well, you know, I… What if I get killed again? I won’t be able to come back and will die for good.” “That means I always have to be near you. So you can return if you get killed again,” Tom stated, finding it an obvious solution. “And how do you picture that?” they climbed out of the round hatch and walked over a carpet of loudly crunching bones. “We show up at the Selwyn manor together? I’ll say you’re my ex-husband?” “We’ll figure something out. Anything’s possible if the alternative is your death. And I’m not the ex-husband, I’m the current husband,” Tom corrected, feeling awkward again. “In other worlds, we’re still officially married, so calling me an ex is incorrect. Out of respect for our other selves.” He never suffered from shyness or embarrassment in the presence of others, except perhaps in distant childhood, when they were brought in for inspections and made to undress in front of each other and a crowd of doctors. But back then, clothing was his armor; without it, he felt vulnerable, and now… Harry provoked this strange feeling in him, a feeling he wanted to flee from. “I deeply sympathize with us in other worlds,” Harry retorted snidely, halting abruptly before a shed basilisk skin. A gigantic skin. Tom certainly wouldn’t want to meet this monster now, in complete darkness, without amulets and protection, clad only in pajamas and a robe, with a volatile combat wizard at his back. The beast could be very useful; what if Grindelwald really attacked Hogwarts? “You took all this so calmly! Aren’t you bothered by all this… Brr, it’s just some kind of horror.” “It doesn’t bother me. For a long time, I thought you were some alien from another world, a werewolf. Then I thought the Gaunts sent you. Then I suspected you went mad from alcoholism. The truth turned out to be astonishing, but at least it explains everything. I can’t stand uncertainty.” His voice echoed through the dark tunnel, and somewhere in the pipes, rats scurried at once. “I didn’t expect this,” Harry informed, pulling a soap dish from his pocket. “Really. I expected you to freak out, but you’re so calm… It’s unsettling. What are you plotting?” “Right now, I’m wondering why you have a soap dish with you,” Tom quickly snatched the suspicious object from Harry’s hands. “And then… Then I’ll wring out every detail of our lives from you, draft a plan of action, and try to ensure you don’t depart to the great beyond because I’m not near you. How’s that?” “You can try,” Harry snatched the soap dish back. “This is a portal, by the way. It’ll transport us back to the bathroom. Hold onto me unless you want to crawl up a slippery pipe.” “Sensible,” Tom gladly grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close, sensing the irritation from the other. “What? Activate it.” Despite Harry reeking of sewage and being all dirty because he didn’t think to cast repelling charms while descending the pipe, usually squeamish Tom felt no disgust. A decaying corpse smells much worse. “This is v-v-very, very strange,” Harry informed, poking the soap dish with his wand. A blue light flashed; Tom felt as though a hook caught him by the navel and yanked him upwards. A moment of whirl later, he stood before a hole in the bathroom floor, tightly holding onto staggering Harry who almost fell back into the Chamber. “What’s strange?” The first rays of the rising sun were breaking through the window. In their faint light, the small traces of slime leading from the pipe were clearly visible, and Tom cringed. He despised rats ever since having to catch and eat them in the year following the bombings. So, he quickly waved his wand, and the sinks slid back into place with a horrid screech. Being in the warm, bright ambiance of the castle after the creepy, foul-smelling dungeon with rats was quite pleasant. “Everything’s strange,” Harry wriggled out of his grip and again retreated a decent distance. “You’re strange. I can feel that you’re… pleased? I don’t know why, but you seem happy! I can’t help but suspect you’re up to something.” The last sink slid into place, a calming silence hung, broken only by the echoes of birds chirping outside. “I’m always thinking about something,” Tom just shook his head. “Now, I’m just glad to have solved the Gordian Selwyn mystery. It bugged me all year.” “You didn’t even get upset that your cousin is dead,” Harry mumbled under his breath, but Tom heard him perfectly well. “Gordian was a revolting piece of human garbage. You became my cousin, although now it sounds rather improper considering our relations in other worlds,” Tom didn’t understand why he kept bringing up the fact of their marriage. It just slipped out faster than he could stop it. “Just what we needed, incest jokes,” Harry was disconcerted. “And anyway… Just forget it!” “It’s not that simple to forget,” Tom moved towards the exit, chewing over the distasteful word “incest.” “And I don’t plan on joking about it; I’m not a clown. Though the joke about Walburga and Orion is quite funny. Burke says that it’s incest for everyone else, but for the Blacks, it’s a game the whole family can play.” Harry looked at him disapprovingly, but couldn’t help a near-snort of laughter. Theoretically, if in this world they both went mad and also tied the knot, their children would be degenerates. But on the other hand, many cousins have normal children, and… Tom shook his head, trying to rid himself of foolish thoughts. What was he thinking?! What children?! They reached the room quite quickly, narrowly missing a ghost encounter. The Bloody Baron was clanking his chains at the entrance to the dungeons and moaning loudly, so they had to detour via another corridor where Harry bumped his head on a torch bracket, got tangled in a tapestry, and collected clumps of dust in his hair. “Merlin, how are you still alive being so unlucky,” the room was fairly lit and Tom privately amused himself with Harry’s hairstyle. “You showcased wonders of agility and reaction during the Defense classes and Fencing, you even managed to beat me in a fight despite being a head shorter, and now you bump into a torch.” “That’s because I’m focused during a fight!” Harry grumbled, trying to shake the dusty clumps from his hair. “Otherwise, I’m not. Like now, for example, I was pondering what to do with all this crap my life has turned into.” “It’s not that crappy,” Tom flicked his wand, ridding Harry of the dust and sewage filth. “Look, now you have a whole cousin, who in other worlds, is also your husband.” And he said it again! Why? Harry threw a dagger-sharp look at him. “Don’t say that,” he ground out, pulling off his cloak. “We’re already in a rather awkward situation, don’t worsen it.” “So, we’re going to ignore the fact that we’re married in all other worlds?” Tom skeptically snorted. “Aren’t you bothered? I can’t get it out of my head.” He probably wanted to hear some sharp denial, something along the lines that in this world they shared blood and had zero romantic interest, and even thinking about such things was foolish. Tom was confused about what he wanted to hear from Harry. He just wanted to discuss it. “Could the other Riddle have lied to me? How would we know?” Harry blushed. “Maybe, in his world, by some incredible twist of fate, we really did get together. But we’re completely different there. So it doesn’t mean that in this world we necessarily…” “Get married?” Tom finished for him. “Yes, unlikely. You know, I already have another spouse in mind.” Just as he said that, a more tempting thought crept in. If he could get his hands on the Selwyn manor and their art collection through Harry, he wouldn’t have to endure the abhorrent relationship with Walburga. The Selwyns would become his ascent to power. Moreover, he turned out to be Mrs. Selwyn’s grandnephew. So many ancient artifacts, rare books, the absolute protection of the manor… “You mean Walburga?” Harry flared up. “Don’t you dare! She’s destined for someone else, that cannot change! You shouldn’t even be married, it never originally happened, meaning you could mess up this timeline even more!” “Or,” Tom stepped closer, tugging at his arm, pulling him in. “We get married, Walburga and the timelines stay intact, and you gift me the Selwyn manor and their artifacts. You know, it’s much easier to become Minister when you have wealth and a prominent name. How does that sound?” “Have you gone mad?” Harry shrieked, shoving Tom away so hard he barely kept his footing. “How do you see this happening? Marius will soon disinherit me, and anyway — I’m not the heir, and I don’t want to marry you!” “Marius has no heir, meaning whatever he does, the inheritance will fall to you,” Tom circled around him, trying on the image of a lavishly dressed wealthy man. They would look splendid together in the eyes of others—a sort of political alliance. He would reveal his heritage, become a respected wizard, not a low-born mudblood, while Harry would be rid of Rosier, Black, and other lecherous scoundrels lusting for his body. “Until he has a child. He can kick you out, burn you off the family tree, but inheritance laws dictate that you’ll receive the title and inheritance.” “He’s not planning to die anytime soon!” exclaimed Harry. “He just doesn’t know it yet,” Tom joked, but nevertheless came back down to earth. Kill a pureblood lord? Even he couldn’t pull that off. But the thought of taking everything that belonged to cousin Gordian and ensnaring Harry was too sweet to easily forget. To show up that other Tom Riddle, the wealthy and important man… He probably pitied his not-so-successful version. A father of many and a respected society member, who decided to help himself in other worlds. Tom suddenly started to feel irritated. “If you kill someone…” Harry hissed angrily, flaring his nostrils, although in his blue pyjamas, he looked more cute than threatening. “Don’t get heated, I won’t be killing anyone. Not even your Black, although he snatched away my husband,” Tom raised his hands, showing complete capitulation. Indeed, Alphard had laid claim to what belonged to him alone. This was unforgivable. If Tom was angry before, now it was a matter of principle to rub Black’s nose in the muck. “Stop repeating that word! I am not your husband and will never be!” Harry was remarkably irritated, so much so that Tom found it strange. It was as if he was nervous. “I’m just joking,” Tom tried to grab him again, but Harry nimbly jumped back. “You’re acting suspiciously. What’s irking you so much? You’re right, we’re different people. I’m not about to drop to my knees and declare undying love. Such foolishness is unimaginable.” “Then stop trying to grab me!” Harry cried out, particularly nervously. “Have you forgotten? I still… don’t control Gordian’s body. He had such unpleasant problems, and now I have to deal with them.” Tom realized he had forgotten about this annoying issue again. He needed to touch Harry to… understand him better. He had gotten used to holding him close at every chance. It was comforting, soothing, and he constantly wanted to prolong the touch. He craved to control Harry, to know what Harry felt. The bond didn’t always convey his emotions, but he could still feel Harry’s presence somewhere in his heart, which was reassuring. “I’m not usually this tactile, but it makes understanding you easier,” Tom settled comfortably in his chair to avoid further aggravating Harry, wrapping his hands around the backrest, resting his chin on it. His cheeks burned with embarrassment again as recollections of Harry’s excited body in his hands traitorously bubbled up from the depths of memory. “We have plenty of time before breakfast, tell me about the poisoning? And what’s with Crouch?” So far, Tom hadn’t managed to dig up much about him. He was the younger of the two Crouch offspring, they didn’t hold titles, nor particular wealth, but they were quite respected and connected to the Wizengamot. Gaspard was very fortuitously betrothed to Druella Rosier’s little sister— Clementine. He did well in school, but nothing else was known about him. He was only friends with Gordian and nobody knew what he was interested in, what he loved. He managed to go unnoticed throughout his six years at Hogwarts. “It’s indeed a pure nightmare, Riddle,” Harry climbed onto the bed and crossed his legs beneath him. “Sorry if this offends you, but Gordian got dealt a crappy hand in life. Presumably from the age of twelve, someone was dosing him with a potion… for enhancing libido, so to speak. And forced him into illicit activities, you know of what kind. They recorded it all on a camera and probably blackmailed him. The pictures were kept in his hideaway; on one of the photos, I spotted that bastard Crouch. He was watching as they were… raping Gordian,” every word seemed to come hard to him. “These scumbags dosed him with the potion for so long that they messed up his hormonal balance. And when I ended up in his body, I was quite surprised by his insatiable libido. Good thing I knew which potion could neutralize it. I took a suppression potion for a long time, and it somehow balanced the hormones, but not completely. Madame Brown said it will take a couple of months more for me to endure, and then everything will get back to normal. It’s just torture, and it’s so disgusting!” Tom didn’t think anything could surprise him anymore today. “And you kept silent?” he exclaimed. “For so long? Didn’t it occur to you that it was he who killed Gordian? And that he was also the one trying to kill you afterward? Harry, for heaven’s sake…” “I couldn’t tell anyone,” Harry replied tiredly. “I still have to live in Gordian’s body, and I was sure that he was doing all of this consensually. Especially since he and Crouch were thick as thieves… Who knows what quirks the rich have.” “But now you know it wasn’t consensual. So much time has passed, and you didn’t think to catch the idiot and interrogate him properly?” “How?” Harry exclaimed. “Legilimency doesn’t work on him, probably because he only has one eye! Or maybe I’m just utterly incompetent. And threatening or dosing a teenager with family connections in the Wizengamot is suicide. If anyone begins to dig in my direction, it’s game over. They’ll lock me up in the Department of Mysteries for the rest of my short-lived days.” “You’re right,” Tom pondered. “One must tread lightly with him. How did you try Legilimency? Do you have experience?” “The usual way,” Harry mumbled. “Non-verbally. Nothing happened.” “Non-verbal Legilimency?” Tom looked at him in surprise. “Only Dumbledore can manage that. You have to utter the spell out loud and make the correct wand movement.” “But it worked for us!” Harry exclaimed. “Because we have a bond. Even I can’t enter a mind non-verbally. But that doesn’t mean we should give up. We need to act before he finishes you off for good.” “You know, I couldn’t care less about Gordian and his murderer right now, Grindelwald has seized the Ministry!” “And? It’s the German Ministry. He hasn’t reached us yet. But Crouch— he’s right here.” “Grindelwald may be in Germany, but you — you’re here!” “And what about me?” Tom squinted. “On the day you were killed in Hogsmeade, did you see something?” “I did. I saw the Red Phoenix, Riddle.” Tom shuddered. “Red Phoenix?” he feigned ignorance, pretending not to understand what Harry was talking about. “What Red Phoenix?” “Don’t lie to me,” Harry threatened. “I know you know. You’ve already drawn it, haven’t you? What does it mean?” A vivid memory flashed before Tom’s eyes: melting snow, his cousin’s body stretching out frail arms, blood spreading around his head, bluish lips, and glassy blue eyes… “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Tom said, rolling his eyes theatrically. “Please enlighten me. Unfortunately, I have no access to the secrets of the future. Or you could show me the noseless version of me too; I swear, I won’t pry into your secrets, just let me see it… The Red Phoenix sounds intriguing. So, I had red eyes and a red phoenix? Was I scaring kiddies at the fair?” The maneuver worked: Harry fell silent, gnawing on his lower lip so furiously, it seemed like he wanted to mince it. “I won’t show you anything,” he finally responded. It was unclear whether he believed Tom, but the degree of suspicion certainly dropped—Tom could feel it even from this distance. “The last thing you need is a hint.” “You’ve already given one. What’s this Red Phoenix? Will a bird fly to me and I’ll carry it on my shoulder like a pirate?” Tom laughed, though he found nothing funny. Quite the contrary, he felt a rush of negative emotions due to the necessity of deceit. Harry looked so defeated, so unhappy, and Tom was merely fanning the flames. He knew that if you bend a tree branch too far, it will break. He didn’t want to break Harry, but Harry was forcing him to lie. The Red Phoenix should continue to exist because that’s the real goal. To become immortal, to become someone who can always protect himself and his… No matter the cost. And Harry will be his key to this immortality. He looked at Harry and suddenly wanted to hold him close again, close enough to hear the beat of his living heart. How to protect him? How to safeguard them both? He had never been responsible for someone else before, especially someone who rejects his methods. He felt lost, unsure of how to do right. Suddenly, he felt scared. What if Harry leaves him? What if he dies? Tom would be alone in this world again. And what if Harry figures out how to sever their bond, and get rid of him forever? What then? “Tom?” Harry called out suddenly, worried. “What’s wrong?” Of course, he felt it. Of course. “You hate this bond,” Tom turned to face the wall. “It must be so repugnant for you, to be connected to someone like me. A dark wizard, a monster, a murderer… To you, I’m just that person from the future.” “No, that’s not true,” Harry retorted unexpectedly fervently. “I separated you two because you’re utterly different. I haven’t killed you yet, as you’ve noticed. Yes, to some extent I still identify you with him, but not as much as you think. Just prove to me that you’re different, let me believe!” “I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that,” Tom said with genuine regret. “I don’t understand you, despite the fact that we can literally feel what the other feels. Perhaps the bond isn’t everything, right? We have such different outlooks on life. It’s not enough to just feel each other’s emotions. We need to… explain. And build trust. But that seems impossible; we’re too different.” “Therapy doesn’t seem like such a bad idea now,” Harry smiled weakly. “For some reason, it reminded me of my ex-girlfriend. We too didn’t understand each other, couldn’t express what we felt. She was with me during the toughest times of my life when I battled past nightmares, alcoholism, and depression. But then she cheated on me, and I couldn’t forgive her. I didn’t listen, didn’t delve into why she did it. I didn’t support her. I only thought about myself and my hurt. Had I tried to salvage our relationship, to hear her out, I wouldn’t be sitting here, with you. I wouldn’t have ruined so many lives.” Tom mentally thanked this girl, although the news that Harry had loved someone struck and surprised him unpleasantly. “There’s no fixing the past,” he shrugged. “You’re here, and I’m here, and I’m not thrilled at the thought of turning into a monster. We can try to understand each other and make sure all this isn’t in vain.” In his mind, Tom had already compiled a list of priorities. First and foremost, it was essential to eliminate the threat posed by Gordian’s unknown abductor. Then, ensure their meetings during holidays, so Harry wouldn’t accidentally depart to the afterlife while Tom’s not around. “Glad to hear that,” Harry nodded tensely. “And we should start by severing this idiotic bond. Not because I hate it, but it’s just unfair. It constantly ties us to each other, and it doesn’t always end well! Our souls should be free, like all other souls!” It hurt. Even his beloved, with whom they had been together for over a thousand years, didn’t want him. His mother didn’t want him. His peers. His father. His grandfather and uncle. His cousin. Now Harry didn’t want him too. Again, the familiar mantra echoed in his mind, like the screech of a rusty key against glass: “You’re not trying hard enough. You can be better.” Tom had to shake his head to rid himself of it. “Tom?” called a worried voice. “What’s…? I didn’t mean it, Merlin, you misunderstood me!” “I understood everything,” Tom managed to respond utterly evenly. What was sacred and meaningful to him was merely an annoying burden to Harry. “No. You said it yourself, we should try to understand each other,” Harry suddenly approached him, seizing his hands. Tom, taken aback, jerked his head up, gazing from below into the blue eyes. “So, try to feel what I feel. I feel like a dog on a leash. I have no choice, other than what someone else once imposed on me.” He was agitated, dismayed, upset, and angry. He didn’t feel even a sliver of the reverence that Tom himself did. “I can’t feel your emotions right now,” Tom lied. “If that’s what you want… If you’re unhappy, I’ll find a way to free you from me.” He wrenched his hands from Harry’s grasp and stood up. Everything inside was quivering and breaking with a creak, like old buildings in an earthquake. Maybe Harry didn’t need him, but that didn’t matter. Tom was no longer the little child waiting for someone to come save him. He now dictated his own fate. “Tom,” Harry suddenly leaned forward and hugged him, pressing his chest against his back, much like the previous evening. He was a head shorter, but his arms were very strong, so much so that Tom’s ribs creaked when Harry tightened his embrace. “You’re doing it again. Just explain to me, what’s wrong? I can feel it! I’m trying to talk to you, but you keep shutting down. You said it yourself, the bond alone isn’t enough for us to understand each other.” It was hard. So hard to just voice what he thought. Why? Tom gently pushed Harry’s hands away, turned around, and embraced him as he’d wanted to many times before. Bright rays of the rising sun penetrated through the enchanted window, casting a golden hue on Harry’s hair, and Tom nestled his cheek against it, closing his eyes against the blinding light. Harry froze in this awkward semi-embrace, holding his breath, but Tom could feel with his chest how rapidly Harry’s heart was beating. “I don’t want to sever the bond,” it felt as if a hundred-pound weight was tied to his tongue. “Does it change anything? You don’t care about my wishes. You have your own.” “I… didn’t expect that,” Harry muttered softly. His shoulders relaxed; he took a deep breath and buried his face in Tom’s sweater, making his voice muffled. “Why don’t you want to do it?” The fact that Harry stood close, allowed touch, and let himself be embraced despite his state, slightly loosened the knot in Tom’s chest. “I just don’t, that’s all. I like the bond. Was there anything grander in your life than this? This isn’t someone’s joke. It’s fate,” there was no strength to let him go. Tom could only stand still, like enchanted armor in the hallways. He wasn’t pathetic in his desires, was he? If he wanted something, it was okay, it meant he should get it. And he wanted the bond to remain. “I didn’t expect that. You know, back in the future, I thought you’d surely rid yourself of anything that ties you to another human being.” “But I’m not the one you knew in the future. I don’t want to be him,” Tom replied quietly. “And I highly doubt you truly knew him. I would never show my weaknesses to others, never let them know me.” Gaining courage, he ran his palm along Harry’s shoulder clad in blue pajamas, slid it to the neck, and lightly caressed it with his fingers. “I understand you. I don’t know what we should do. I want to get rid of it, you don’t,” Harry exhaled warmly on his neck and wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist. “It seems one of us has to change his mind.” “It seems so,” agreed Tom and pressed closer to him. And so, as they embraced in the soft rays of dawn, with the rhythm of Harry’s breath against him and the sensation of their bond resonating in his heart, Tom was willing to stand there until nightfall. He wasn’t going to voice that Harry had no choice. Tom had already decided everything for them both. Harry just needed more time, and he would understand that their bond was a gift of fate. ***   If someone had once told Harry that he’d find himself embracing distraught Voldemort, he would have laughed for a very, very long time. He and Ron surely would’ve concocted several jokes on the subject, involving a bald head and lobotomy, no doubt. If Diary Tom Riddle had told young Harry Potter that they’d marry each other when Harry grew up, Harry would’ve assumed the diary had grown mold inside its pages. Now an adult, almost twenty-three, Harry Potter had hugged Tom Riddle so many times that it had become habitual, though talks of marriage still bewildered him. The events of this night unfolded with such swift unpredictability that he no longer knew what to expect from this new Tom Riddle. First, he claimed they were cousins, then reacted oddly to the incredible information Harry shared. Now, he openly declared he didn’t want to sever the bond. Harry had held back a lot, naturally, told half-truths, even blatantly lied here and there. But even these half-truths didn’t trigger the reaction in Tom he’d anticipated. It seemed Tom had indeed changed significantly over the year, becoming much calmer, more confident, perhaps even wiser. Harry couldn’t believe he was the cause of such transformations. He hadn’t done much, had he? Or had he? From Harry’s perspective, it seemed all his efforts were in vain, that Riddle wasn’t changing, that all of Harry’s preaching was just background noise to him. But now, he saw entirely different Tom Riddle. Tom who acknowledged his weaknesses, accepted his feelings, and openly stated he didn’t want to sever the bond, that he was ready to protect Harry. It was incredible. As Harry himself oscillated between the abysses of despair and resentment, Riddle had grown and was now ready to bear the responsibility for Harry’s actions. Wasn’t that a wonder? Harry Potter from the mirror had claimed that it was he who had taught his Tom to be more humane, helped him grow, set an example. Harry hadn’t believed it until this very day. What Tom had said about his feelings, about helplessness and resentment, struck him. It was as if instead of a Dementor, there stood Crookshanks from the animal shelter in front of Harry, who had stayed alone for so long because nobody wanted to buy the unaffectionate, frightful creature. So Harry hugged him, no longer feeling guilty for those fallen at the Battle of Hogwarts, for his dead parents and godfather. They would understand. Tom was no longer that future Voldemort; he was in the process of changes that might lead to the Red Phoenix or something entirely different. And Harry wanted to help him with that, sincerely hoping to see him at the top of the wizarding world one day. The great wizard Tom Riddle, respected like Dumbledore, not loathed. What Harry staunchly opposed was the idea of marrying him and allowing their bond to endure. They both deserved freedom. Yet, Riddle managed to astonish him even in this regard. His emotions shattering through a sturdy wall resonated with Harry’s own desolation upon discovering Ginny’s infidelity. He too had felt unwanted, isolated, and betrayed. The idea of Tom Riddle reacting in such a way was beyond his imagination. What drove this reaction? Was it the orphan boy’s longing for a family, or possessiveness akin to Voldemort’s attachment to his Horcruxes? Perhaps Riddle assumed that due to their bond, Harry belonged to him, and Voldemort was known for guarding his possessions ferociously. Harry resolved to withhold judgment and observe where this journey would lead them. As breakfast time rolled in, Harry drifted into sleep with a clear conscience, paying no mind to Riddle’s complaints about skipped classes and plummeting grades, and snoozed until dinner. “Get up,” Riddle nudged his shoulder. “Enough sleeping, we have a lot to do.” “You look like crap,” Harry informed him, yawning leisurely. “Should’ve slept too, I told you…” “I’m not about to skip the last lessons before the OWLs, you slacker. Just because you’re from another world doesn’t mean you can neglect Gordian Selwyn’s academics.” “And why should I care?” Harry leapt out of bed and stretched. “I’m not planning on seeking employment.” “Anything can happen,” retorted Riddle. Shadows marred his visage, his gaze seemed distant. “Knowledge is vital.” “I know, that’s why I crammed. The knowledge stays with me,” Harry waved him off. “I don’t need the rest, what for? Some piece of paper? You should rest, you resemble Bloody Baron post-mortem.” “Not now, we need to have dinner and corner Crouch.” Riddle hurled a shirt and trousers at him, which, as Harry recalled, had been crumpled in a heap on a chair but now hung neatly on the backrest. “You’ll lure him to a secluded spot, and I’ll infiltrate his mind.” “Merlin, we’ve been over this. You can’t just plunge into his mind! Do you know how to erase memories? I don’t, and it takes years of training to learn! I knew this dimwit who’d zap wizards with a total Memory Charm, turning them into vegetables. And a friend of mine wiped her parents’ memories and could never restore them. It’s exceedingly dangerous.” “Then we’ll just intimidate him. Blackmail, whatever. Something bizarre is afoot. There are horrendous rumors about you circling around, and I suspect, no, I’m nearly certain, it’s him.” “What rumors? I haven’t heard anything,” Harry said, growing wary. “You are entirely oblivious to school life. Haven’t you noticed the epithet ‘whore’ being hurled your way?” Riddle arched an eyebrow. “Heard it a couple of times,” Harry shrugged. “I constantly receive notes with indecent proposals, I discard them unread. This childish nonsense doesn’t interest me. It’s your doing; you initiated rumors about me. And Walburga fanned the flames generously.” “At first, I thought so too, but it’s far graver than childish nonsense, Harry. We need to devise a plan to delve into his mind.” Arguing proved fruitless, so Harry freshened up as best as he could and trudged to the Great Hall, the thought of facing Alphard making him shudder. “And it was my first sexual encounter with a guy,” he suddenly realized, catching Alphard’s melancholy blue eyes. “And it was with Sirius’s uncle. And the Blacks are my relatives too. This is definitely some Black-family incestuous fetish.” With the recent tumult, Harry had cooled down significantly. Though trust in Alphard had evaporated, pity had taken its place. Alphard was just a love-stricken sixteen-year-old with a less than stellar lineage. Feelings of betrayal and guilt stirred within Harry, and it seemed as if everyone was staring, knowing, and reveling in his misfortune. Alphard, seated beside Joanna and Rut, looked even worse for wear than Riddle. His hair was a tousled mess, his face pale, and his shirt wrinkled. “Oh, what have I done,” Harry mused resignedly, and took a seat next to him, ignoring the palpable wave of irritation emanating from Tom. This issue needed addressing before Riddle handled it in his characteristic fashion. “Here you are!” Joanna scolded. “Have you lost all sense, Selwyn? Callahan will have your head for skipping classes!” “I was busy,” Harry shrugged, his gaze fixed on Alphard. “But it’s sorted now. Let’s just avoid that subject.” Alphard swallowed nervously, nodding with a trace of relief, realizing Harry was indeed speaking to him. He likely thought Harry would never utter a word to him again. That’s what should have transpired, but Harry couldn’t stand seeing the agony on a face so reminiscent of his godfather’s. As he scanned the faces around the table, Harry caught a few hostile glares and involuntarily pondered. Perhaps Riddle was onto something, and a grave matter was at hand? Alphard surely hadn’t blabbed about their escapade. “There was news this morning,” Alphard awkwardly veered the conversation. “One of the missing wizards from last summer has returned.” “Someone returned?” Harry nearly choked on his juice. “Who?” “Auror Moody, father of that first-year, Alastor,” Joanna offered him a napkin sympathetically. “Imagine, time stood still for him! He stepped into a room and found himself in the same room, only ten months later!” “Absolutely astonishing!” Rut chimed in. “So, the others might return too! Do you reckon they’ll reinstate Dippet as headmaster?” “Merlin, I hope not,” Alphard grimaced. “Maybe he won’t return? Or will come back in about fifty years?” “Yes, Moody returned, but the others might remain lost indefinitely,” Joanna concurred. “It’s peculiar. Had he returned just a month earlier, Hagrid wouldn’t have been injured, but he returns right after the incident. Do you think there’s a pattern to this?” “Hagrid?” Harry swiveled toward her so abruptly that something in his neck gave a sharp twinge. “He got hurt?” “Good morning, Gordian Selwyn, the most attentive student at Hogwarts,” the girl snorted. “Do you even live on this planet? He’s been in St Mungo’s for a month!” “He was too busy portraying a Shakespearean protagonist,” Rut chimed in with a snort. “The gloomy detachment and enigma got old. Apparently, all you needed was to sleep and skip classes!” “Yes, yes, so what happened to Hagrid?” Harry waved them off, eager for details. “Young Moody attacked him. I heard that Hagrid approached him to offer support, mentioned something about his father, and Moody just lost it. He lunged at Hagrid, but giants are resistant to magic, so nothing worked and Hagrid pushed him away. The kid had a spontaneous burst of magic, and Hagrid was thrown back ten feet. They say the crack of Hagrid’s skull was heard on the first floor.” Harry froze, aghast. This shouldn’t have happened! “And what about him now? Why is he in St Mungo’s?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “How should I know? Probably something isn’t healing right; he’s a half-giant after all. Potions don’t work the same on them.” Harry stared at his plate, where a lone potato lay, and realized he had lost his appetite, despite not having eaten since last night’s dinner. He had been so engrossed in his own problems that he had completely forgotten about Hagrid. He had tried to bond with him at the beginning of the year, but Hagrid had made it clear he didn’t like Gordian Selwyn and wouldn’t converse with him. As it turned out, Gordian and Walburga had tormented him in the first year. “Did he suffer a severe fracture?” he managed to utter. “Do you think he’ll remain… in his right mind?” “He was odd to begin with, I reckon he’ll just get odder now,” Rut said with genuine sympathy. “Poor guy. Just imagine what a combat wizard he’d make! Half the spells would bounce off him like off a Nundu.” “He wouldn’t fight, he’s too kind and compassionate,” Harry shook his head reflexively, almost cursing out loud as he remembered one small detail. Aragog! If Hagrid’s been in St Mungo’s for a month, Aragog, locked in a trunk, might have starved to death by now; Acromantulas need a lot of food. “I need to go!” Harry conjured a lunch box and began stuffing chicken legs from the table into it. “Hey, are you planning to leave us without food?” Rut protested. “Why do you need so much?” “I’m hungry,” Harry said, gathering every morsel of meat within sight. “Ah, he’s snapped again,” Joanna shook her head. “Look, he’s not even hearing us. Harry, your fly is undone!” “Uh-huh,” Harry responded absentmindedly, already dashing off, trying to recall where that ill-fated cupboard with Aragog was located. In Diary Riddle’s memory, the location seemed to be somewhere near the tapestry featuring the wandering bard, which was on the third floor. Or was it the fourth? He was already ascending the staircase when the owner of the memory caught up with him. “What’s the matter this time?” Riddle asked anxiously, trailing Harry like a dark shadow. “Did you inadvertently commit matricide?” “Very funny,” Harry grumbled. He couldn’t remember where to go, so he decided to consult the source. “Don’t you remember where Hagrid kept… a certain secret? A small cupboard with a trunk.” “You know about the Acromantula too?” Riddle rolled his eyes, confidently turned around, and grabbed Harry by the hand. “Come on. I hope our fate doesn’t hinge on the life of this Acromantula?” “Who knows,” Harry responded uncertainly. “So, you knew Hagrid had a pet but did nothing when he was sent to St Mungo’s?” They navigated through the corridor and began to ascend another staircase. “I had forgotten about it. I couldn’t think about some spider while you were courting disaster.” “Pff,” Harry snorted. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re sitting next to Black again and conversing with him,” Riddle casually mentioned, striding ahead confidently. “Don’t start,” Potter grimaced. “It’s my business.” “I understand perfectly what kind of ‘business’ it is,” he retorted sharply. “It’s the ‘I’ll blame myself for everything and pity him because he’s so miserable and in love, plus he is handsome and feeling remorseful, he’ll punish himself for his actions much more than I ever could’ business. Someone needs to teach him that violence doesn’t always go unpunished, Harry.” He attempted to mimic Gordian’s voice, but it came out squeaky, and Harry couldn’t get angry at him. “If you think you’ve figured out my emotions, it doesn’t mean you’re always right,” Harry muttered out of a sense of protest, though of course, Riddle was on the mark. That’s exactly what Harry thought. Riddle turned around, silently raising an eyebrow. They both knew he was right. “Oh, shut up!” Harry snorted and brushed past him. “No, Harry. Just tell me, why are you defending him so much? Who is he to you in the future? Were you in love with him? Or… No, was he your beloved granddad? Do you realize how this is…” Riddle was almost hissing, his agitation palpable. At first, Harry even thought he was speaking Parseltongue. “He’s my godfather’s uncle!” Harry couldn’t take it anymore. “And he bears a striking resemblance to him, both in appearance and character. So if you dare do anything to him… Don’t you dare approach him, Riddle. I’m serious.” Miraculously, Riddle held his tongue and didn’t argue. They reached the fourth floor and found themselves next to the prefects’ bathroom, where the portrait of the bard hung. Harry almost slapped his forehead. He remembered it! “Right here,” Riddle pointed to an inconspicuous door beside a statue. “A prime location for a secret. No one would seclude themselves in a cupboard when there’s a lavish bathtub for prefects nearby. Which, by the way, suspiciously many people know about. Someone shamelessly uses their position to share passwords with whoever, and those hormonal little…” “Would you kindly shut up!” Harry exclaimed, rolling his eyes, and blasted the door open with a spell. The room was exactly as he remembered. A heavy wooden trunk sat in a corner behind a column, and as Harry approached it, he saw a hole in its body. The wood had melted like a candle and was charred around the edges. “He’s escaped,” Harry sighed in relief. “I forgot he’s as venomous as a basilisk.” “And you casually mention that a venomous creature is on the loose in the school?” Tom clarified. “A hungry venomous creature?” “He’s a friend of Hagrid’s,” Harry attempted to restore the trunk to leave no trace, but the venom resisted the charms. “He’ll just run off to the Forbidden Forest, start a family there…” Recalling how he and Ron fled from Aragog’s offspring wanting to eat them made Harry shudder. Maybe it would have been better if Aragog had died? “Harry, I understand that you’re not very… to put it mildly, responsible, but this is beyond negligence,” Riddle raised his voice. “A hungry Acromantula in a school full of children? Have you lost your mind?” “Oh Merlin, don’t exaggerate,” Potter grimaced, hearing a phrase Hermione had used a thousand times. “He’s a friend of Hagrid’s! He helped us once… Besides, you were going to release a basilisk in this very school! Look who’s talking!” “And I deeply regret that, I was blinded by a desire to prove myself and almost made a huge mistake. But now I see what a fool I was.” “Aragog isn’t a basilisk, he’s tiny, what could he do? Frighten a couple of girls?” “You’re incorrigible. I know where he is, come on,” Tom pulled him along, leaving the chest behind. “This morning, when we climbed out of the pipe, there were small slime traces. I thought it was rats, but now I see it was spider legs. He must have crawled into the sewer system and scurried around until you opened the passage to the Chamber. Let’s catch him and hand him over to Slughorn, let him decide what to do with him.” “We don’t need to give him to anyone, let him live in the forest,” Harry fumed. “You know, you sometimes remind me of my friend. Only I couldn’t openly call her a bore, but I can call you a bore.” “How old are you? Thirteen?” Tom inquired haughtily as they sprinted down the staircase to the second floor. “I’ll be twenty-three soon,” Harry mumbled. “And drop the arrogance! I might not be a genius, but I know what’s dangerous and what’s not. Aragog loves Hagrid. He would never…” They reached the door to the girls’ bathroom, and with a growing dread inside, Harry saw a spreading puddle seeping out from under the door, reminiscent of that time in his second year when he discovered the diary. “You didn’t release the basilisk, did you?” he asked, just to be sure. Riddle didn’t answer, he only swung the door open and suddenly blocked the entrance with his shoulders. “Harry…” he warned, “don’t come in.” “What’s in there?” Potter, of course, didn’t heed him. He swiftly slipped under his arm and found himself back in his sixth year of his past life, on that day when he attacked Draco Malfoy. Pink water flowed across the dark tiles; motionless bodies lay by the sink. “Harry, don’t look,” Tom’s hand covered his eyes, but he had already seen everything he was supposed to. By the sink lay Moaning Myrtle, recognizable only by her silly pigtails and shattered glasses, which had flown a foot away. There simply was no face; it had been eaten down to the bones. Through the holes where her cheeks and lips should have been, blood-red, unnaturally large teeth for such a small face protruded. Literally at arm’s length from her lay a red-haired boy in Hufflepuff uniform, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. He still clutched his wand tightly in his hand.