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A Wise Wizard's Answer (And I hold my breath 11)

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Summary: Professor Dumbledore invites Tom Riddle and Harry Potter into his office, but how much of what he tells them is what he knows?

( First Chapter ) | Previous: In the Eye of the Snake

The three of them stood in the Headmaster’s office. Dumbledore paced, touching a finger to a silver instrument. He cast a casual gaze at the portraits.

“Tom isn’t Voldemort.” Harry told Dumbledore firmly.

“Correct.” Dumbledore agreed. “Harry, what you did today was very brave. You did you utmost to save even your enemy… that capacity in you is truly remarkable.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel that would feel more complementary if Dumbledore would meet his gaze. Harry felt confused by the evening’s sudden turnaround. The vision, seeing the snake and the Beast—everything Harry had assumed seemed turned on its head. He desperately wanted the Headmaster to explain things—for the night to make sense. He chewed his lip and closed his eyes, searching for something to grasp onto.

“However, I need to know how you knew what was happening. What did you see, Harry?”

Tom made a small noise in the back of his throat. He shifted uncomfortably, and Harry noticed that he still gripped his wand.

“What kind of wand is that?” Harry asked, partially to help the headmaster notice that Tom was, in fact, still holding a dangerous weapon. Still awash in emotions, he waited for Tom to either attack, or explain. Tom did neither. Instead, the Slytherin pursed his lips, and put his wand away.

Harry wondered if the Headmaster’s question somehow meant that he knew Harry had seen something. Or did he mean for Harry to report on what he saw by the forest? “Before everything tonight… you see, I was asleep in the common room. But it’s like it wasn’t a dream. I saw it happen,” Harry took a deep breath. “I saw Tom being flown away.”

Dumbledore leaned forward. “How did you see it? What was your perspective?”

Harry felt his brow furrow and he gave the headmaster a sharp look. Was Dumbledore questioning that he saw anything? “I was the snake…”

“Are you quite certain you two should be having this conversation with me here?” Tom’s voice was low and distrusting. 

Or maybe, Harry thought, he’s sullen as a snake denied food.

“So sorry to have excluded you, Mr. Riddle. But Harry has seen something… and at this time, no, I don’t think we need worry about keeping you in the dark. Voldemort himself has already made that mistake with you, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry paused, unwilling to talk about the dream now. Sullen or not, snakes could be dangerous spies.

“Your dreams have been very instructive in the past, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore admonished gently. He looked not at Harry’s eyes, but somewhere between his scar and his hairline.

When Harry didn’t reply, Tom cocked his head and asked, “What sorts of dreams have you had in the past?”

“I dreamed you were coming.” Harry said, knowing that it was true. “On the train to Hogwarts, I dreamed of you in the forest. Today, I felt it when you were taken; when your head was beaned against the wall.” I suppose it’s good that snakes are so hard to break. He thought. All those coils.

Unexpectedly, Dumbledore stood at this. “Begging your pardon.”

Dumbledore approached the younger boy, and Tom shrank back until he realized what Dumbledore meant to do. He submitted reluctantly to let Dumbledore part Tom’s hair, searching for signs of a wound.

When Dumbledore found it, as with all of his magic, the healing charm was understated; no bangs or smoke. The only visible effect was the surprised relief that flitted across Tom’s face. “See Madam Pomfrey before bed. Quickly, mind, before our dear Superintendent catches word of tonight’s events.”

Tom looked up into Dumbledore’s eyes, not showing anything but a tightening of the jaw. “Tonight or another night, the Ministry will find out about me, and then what will you do?” he asked, mocking.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. “I will not let you go so easily, Mr. Riddle. Harry, please. Your dream.” There was steel in the Headmaster’s words.

Dumbledore still looked elsewhere. Harry felt inexplicably irritated, even as he did as he was told. “I saw a snake. There were dirty feathers and a Greedy Beastie.” Harry shook his head firmly. He paused as he recalled the vivid dream. “I was in the pipes… and calling him to return… but then something I didn’t expect—some other creature—carried him away, and I was angry. I tried to bite it…”

Finally, Dumbledore moved to sit in his chair, “Tom may have been sent here for nefarious purposes, but he is not in fact evil.”

Harry nodded impatiently.

“I’m a ‘second chance.’” Tom said quietly, his eyes flashing. His expressions, always unreadable, seemed too dark to be as innocent as his words suggested.

“And everyone’s memory?” Harry prompted.

“How could the student body accept a child like him, knowing he was connected with Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked. “To give Tom a proper chance, we needed a fresh slate. Voldemort already instructed him in the art of memory modifications, it seems, but it wasn’t quite enough to hoodwink myself. He needed someone on the inside.”

“What about Snape? Does he know?” Harry asked quickly, heat rising to his face; anger turned in his stomach, clashing with and accentuating the need to bite.

Dumbledore leaned heavily into his chair. “Professor Snape, Harry. Yes. He knows.” He did not say how much.

“Whose side are you on?” Harry asked Tom suspiciously.

“I’m not on anyone’s side.” Tom said quietly, but his voice was low and charged with venom, twisting his lips. “I’m on my side. I want to know about my past, and about my creation. Hogwarts is the best place to do that.” Harry scowled, and Tom smiled coldly. “The Dark Lord thinks that I’m only an extension of him…he would order me around like any one of his lackeys.”

“Right.” Harry looked back to Dumbledore. There had been another dream. “Did you know about Voldemort inviting the Dementors, and that thing with long hair?”

Dumbledore pushed his glasses back up his long nose. “Severus mentioned something to that effect, yes. Giants too, it seems.”

“I wanted to tell you about my dream. But you’re not looking at me.” Magic sparked in the air at that, and Harry fidgeted, holding back the volatile anger—the sudden need to lunge forward and bite the headmaster. For an instant, the feeling overwhelmed him. Like he was still the snake, still fighting the impulse to strike out at any warm-blooded prey before him. It burned his skin.

Tom looked at Harry quizzically. “So it was the snake that called me. Not the… ‘beastie,’ as you say. What did you see in the Dementor vision?”

“It’s not a vision.” Harry said quickly, reeling. “It was a dream, and no, I didn’t see the dirty-feather thing. But it confused the snake—”

“Nagini.” Tom interrupted. “It confused her?”

“Yes. She thought it was familiar. Sort of…like you? No. Maybe she was reacting to you.” Harry rubbed his scar absently, and clenched his jaw, urging the anger, the bloodlust down.

Tom considered Harry and the Headmaster in turn. “I see...”

“I hope,” Dumbledore said evenly, “that you could help us shed some light on the matter, Tom. You have a unique perspective, it is true, but you also have a uniquely sharp and quick mind to rival anyone’s.”

Harry frowned lightly, a prick of jealousy rearing in him. He wasn’t sure about what Dumbledore said, and privately thought that Tom’s ‘unique perspective’ came from the other boy being just-on-this-side of evil. “Keep thinking about wings and feathers.” Harry advised quietly, saying the first thing that leapt into his mind. “And be on the lookout for Dementors. Can you cast a Patronus?”

Dumbledore looked suitably impressed by this question, and his expression turned thoughtful again. Much of the sadness left him as he planned aloud. “Yes. A Patronus...but more than that, Harry, you need to learn to cast other protections. You must learn to keep your mind separate from Voldemort’s-- now more than ever.”

“Why don’t you tell us what your network knows instead, Dumbledore.” Tom gestured to the portraits of previous headmasters on the wall. One wizard’s snore suddenly seemed to sound like an indignant snort. “I certainly never heard anything about the thing that took me... I have no idea what it was.”

Harry was overwhelmed with a sense of vertigo. He saw Dumbledore take out a silver instrument, though Harry was watching Fawkes on the opposite side of the room. Once Harry gave a small gasp, he saw himself as Tom turned his gaze onto Harry. He saw as Tom saw him: a dark haired boy halfway between leaping from his chair.

He felt an intense feeling-- distrust, suspicion and curiosity-- and then surprise. Tom’s dark eyes met Harry’s. Does he know my origin? Tom seemed to be saying. Harry couldn’t help but react. He took a quick breath. Then he had the sense of being pushed...

Dumbledore watched this silent exchange even as he tapped the instrument with his wand. The older wizard’s gaze was unfocused as he moved to stand, watching the smoke that streamed from the instrument. The smoke was hazy, something between silver and green. Slowly, it took form, solidifying to a shape-- a wide, wide mouth, and slits for eyes. A snake.

“That’s what I saw. That is Nagini.” Tom confirmed.

Dumbledore did not meet Tom’s eyes either. He watched the smoke. “Naturally, naturally,” murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. “But in essence divided?” (*direct quote)

Harry didn’t have a clue what the headmaster meant by that. Divided loyalty. Divided issues. Divided portions of chocolate...

The smoke serpent convulsed at that moment. It was ripped in two by unseen force. Twin snakes coiled in the air before Dumbledore. Both sets of snake eyes watched him. Dumbledore sighed, gave the instrument a forceful tap, and the smoke snakes vanished.

Harry waited not-so-patiently.

Dumbledore looked up to glance at the two students. “I’m afraid I’m just as in-the-dark on the matter as you, Tom. In the meantime, please attend your classes. Get to know your classmates. As for you, Harry? I shall arrange for private lessons.”

“Lessons, sir?” Harry’s mouth felt like cotton. He felt another dizzying swell of confusion, and a harsh jolt of suspicion. His hands clenched.

“Yes, yes...” Dumbledore said half to himself. Faux flew over to him, and Dumbledore pet his head. “I believe you need to learn from Professor Snape.” He gave Tom a long, considering look, as though struggling with a difficult decision. “Professor Snape will teach you, Harry, to close your mind to unwelcome sources. I’m sure he shall be most instructive. Please set you considerable talents to learning what he has to teach you,” Dumbledore said airily.

Beside him, Harry felt Tom stiffen. Maybe a feather got stuck in his hair. I bet it would pull, with all those iron-colored strings. Maybe cut with the edge too. He turned to look at Tom, meeting his gaze experimentally.

…would be so easy to dupe. Tom seemed to whisper, and Harry knew the subject of that thought to be himself.

“You think I’m stupid?” Harry demanded. “You think it’s only blind luck that had me survive so many encounters with Voldemort?” He shook his head, and again the anger seemed to clear a lot of the fuzziness from his mind.

“Why would you think that?” Tom asked slowly, his whole body lying as it seemed to say, I’m harmless.

“You’re the stupid one.” Harry snipped. “Dumbledore trusts you. Voldemort wants you.”

“And you?” Tom goaded.

“Dumbledore-- if you knew Tom was sent by Voldemort-- why didn’t you spell me too? If you’re going to say that no one would give poor Tommy a chance, why not make me give him one too? How could you have known that I’d save him from the Beast?” Harry felt his voice rise, felt his fists clench.

“Manners, boy-- why in my day, students showed the headmaster some respect. Dumbledore, this student is in need of some discipline,” a headmaster broke in. Dumbledore waved a hand to silence him.

“Harry, you needed to keep your memories. It is vital. I have said before that within you there is great capacity to love; that you can love and forgive even your enemy. This is your greatest strength. I could not take that away from you.”

Harry felt the eyes of the former headmaster portraits on him. He turned around to catch them in the act, but they quickly went back to feigning sleep, except for the one. The one headmaster swished his switch-like wand menacingly. He watched them for a minute.

“So what have I learned tonight?” Harry’s eyes found Tom’s. “You let him fend for himself, and what have I learned? Tom resents Voldemort, and you want me to forgive them both.”

Harry wanted to add, but you aren’t doing anything to protect us! but he couldn’t get the words out. Wasn’t Dumbledore protecting him? Weren’t they safe because Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared?

“I am sorry. So very sorry.” Dumbledore replied, folding in on himself a little. He looked older in the candlelight; preoccupied with unknown burdens.

Harry sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. Even after this night, this terribly long night, he wanted to trust Dumbledore. He did trust Dumbledore. “I think I’m going to trust you, Riddle. At least not to give Voldemort information. Seeing that you apparently can’t while in the castle, I almost trust you more than Snape...” Harry chewed his lip, suddenly aware that he was babbling.

“When we are old, we see mostly our mistakes. So I wish to help Tom. But surely you see, Harry, that no one can truly save another soul. That is one thing, we must save ourselves.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, and considered the headmaster. Harry noticed that he was swaying on his feet.

“Please see that Tom stops by the nurse discretely, Harry.” Dumbledore added, clearly dismissing the two of them.

Tom’s usual grace left him as he stiffly made for the exit. Harry followed at a distance.

“Quietly. Your injuries might cause unwanted bureaucratic eyes to follow.” Dumbledore’s soft voice carried down the spindly stairs.

“Like we could avoid it,” Tom muttered. “You saw all those students staring out the windows after me…”

Harry struggled to gather his thoughts. At some length, he realized he’d followed Tom down the hall in the correct direction. “So. You didn’t go back to him... why? Is it really because you can’t stand to be your own lackey?” Harry wondered if maybe there was a better way to phrase this question.

Tom snorted. “I am my own person. Dumbledore is too crafty to trust me exactly, but he knows enough not to throw me out...”

Harry considered this. “Why? It’s not like you could do anything to anyone in Hogwarts from outside the walls.” At least, the other Death Eaters hadn’t. Except for Lucius and the diary. And Sirius, who had brought Dementors to the school, though he wasn’t even a proper Death Eater. And Barty Crouch who had done…something or other to protect his son. Not to mention Barty Crouch Jr, who was technically in the school most of the time. “Er. Well. Not much. And not often.” he amended.

Tom chuckled darkly. “It’s not what I could do,” he quipped, “but what the Dark Lord could do with me.” His shoulders were tense, and his chin held stiffly. “Dumbledore doesn’t think highly of my magical skills; you can see it in the way he talks. However, he thinks given enough time, the Dark Lord could use me to raise his own powers considerably.”

Harry considered this. “You don’t know that for sure.” He stopped to let Tom get ahead of him, looking for stray feathers to snatch or a glimpse of his missing mirror.

“Accio Harry’s two-way mirror,” Harry tried. He kept his eyes locked on Tom, looking for obvious signs of guilt.

Tom flushed.

“You do have it.” Harry remarked. “Give it here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tom said stiffly. He paused, looking into Harry’s angry face, and his lips twitched.

They bickered about it all the way to Madam Pomfrey’s.

“Mr. Riddle!” Madam Pomfrey greeted them loudly. “Come to see me at last, have you? You’re as bad as the rest of them, allowing the headmaster to whisk you away without so much as a diagnostic spell. Sit here.”

Tom, looking slightly overwhelmed, did as he was told.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand before Riddle and settled her attention to his head. “Are you experiencing any dizziness, nausea, or blurriness of vision?” she asked as she took out her wand.

Harry, who hadn’t passed the threshold to the Hospital Wing proper, watched apprehensively. He was soon distracted by a hand on his shoulder.

Fred Weasley looked at Harry, a pained expression on his face. “Oh, are you escorting an injured student as well? It really seems these Slytherins are having a bad night,” he said. His tone was more convincing than the concerned expression he had fixed on Harry’s face. “Found Malfoy hexed in the hallway... right after you flew the coup.”

“They’re the ones who hexed me!” Malfoy called out from somewhere behind drawn curtains. Harry squinted at the most suspicious drape.

“Did not! We found you on the stairs. Never touched a hair on your head, now did we?” George argued.

“Quiet!” Madam Pomfrey said angrily. “Sit down, Mr. Riddle. Something attacked you?”

Just then, the usual Gryffindor crowd appeared at the hospital wing door. “Harry! Why did you run off like that? Professor Lockhart is saying someone transfigured a student and attacked Riddle. Harry, you can’t-- you didn’t,” Hermione said fretfully.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head at whatever diagnosis she made, for she headed in a straight line toward the potions cabinet. She didn’t appear to hear much of what the new students were saying, but instead muttered to herself and flicked her wand about to do various Hospital Wing things.

“If Harry did anything to Riddle, I’m sure he deserved it!” Ginny said loudly. She was right behind the other Gryffindors as they corralled Harry toward Riddle.

Harry scowled, exasperated. “Don’t touch me.” He snapped, but the conversation flowed around him as though he hadn’t said anything.

Ron, looking more frustrated and red in the face than Harry remembered him, said, “Harry didn’t! He wouldn’t have had time.”

Hermione calmed noticeably at that, a thoughtful expression overcoming her. “Oh. But the broom...? Yes. I suppose...” She trailed off.

“In fact, Harry came out a misguided sense of duty. He was trying to rescue me. Not that I need rescuing...” Tom said, trying for an aristocratic air. He sounded mostly cautious.

“I don’t trust him.” Ginny muttered fiercely, her brown eyes flashing. “Riddle is clearly trying to give himself an alibi for something, or paint himself in a sympathetic light.”

“When did Professor Lockhart have time to make a statement? I thought he was meant to be searching the forest,” Harry frowned, sitting unceremoniously on one of the cots. That man never seemed to miss a moment to make a move to take the spotlight. Attack on a student? Lockhart would put himself in a position to inform on the situation, probably embellishing details and adding how his Expert Knowledge could have made things that much better.

“Right after the High Inquisitor got here,” Neville answered, hovering to the side nearest Harry’s cot. “She brought Aurors.” Neville’s voice was bright with a kind of awe. “She kept raving about riot control or something…”

“All of you, out!” Madam Pomfrey demanded, suddenly back from the supply cabinet. “I’m told we’re to have visitors, and it would not go well for you to remain. I’m sorry, Mister Potter, but you’ll have to see your friend in the morning.”

Harry snapped to attention at that, hopping up and striding over, thereby cutting the distance between them. “Madam Pomfrey,” he said urgently, “Professor Dumbledore said to be discrete. Tom can’t stay the night.”

She clearly didn’t see the Weasley twins hoisting themselves onto a cot bed, where they drew the curtains. As the twins moved, a familiar voice boomed near the hospital wing.

“Yes, yes, High Inquisitor.” Lockhart was saying, even as the Weasley twins debated the merits of one of them developing a need to stay in the hospital wing.

Harry froze, then darted to the left. He was reaching for another curtain when another door outside the Hospital Wing opened. Lockhart and Umbridge had gone into another room? Why?

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue and nodded toward another door, making a very interesting face as she said, “Mister Riddle, please drink this potion and apply this cooling towel—it’s been charmed to the right temperature. Ask your house-mates to watch over you, Merlin help us all.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it, but I suppose you’ll be fine. Mister Weasley! The rest of you, out. Only Mister Malfoy shall be staying, I’m afraid.”

“Yes Madam Pomfrey.” Hermione replied stiffly, and she and Ron caught up to Harry, who led them stealthily out the door.

The Gryffindors were silent as they went into the hallway. As it was, they narrowly avoided being seen by Umbridge. Harry caught sight of pink hair, which he assumed belonged to Tonks. The Auror had positioned herself between the first of the corridors that led from the hospital wing to the Gryffindor hallway, while a man stood to the side.

“Yes, yes...” the Popinjay Professor professed. “The students are saying it was a fight in the corridors that moved outdoors... There’s clearly no need for all this security. Why, I dare say, madam, that if there truly was an uprising, I could handle the situation for you! There was this time in the countryside where I single-handedly stopped a riot, you see...”

“Just the same,” Umbridge hemmed. “I will keep my escort for my inspection tomorrow, professor. Do keep an eye on things for me until then... the Ministry thanks you for your cooperation.”

Tom, who managed to squeeze between Ron and Hermione to stand near Harry, touched two cool fingers to Harry’s wrist.

The group kept walking until even the soft muffled echoes of the adults’ voices faded. “You’ll be all right going to the Slytherin Common Room?” Hermione asked bruskly. Tom nodded, his eyes laughing. “Good night then,” the prefect bade him.

“Be seeing you.” Tom said, and within moments was gone around another corner.

In the Gryffindor common room, they all sat around the fire in the assortment of squashy chairs. It was an awkward silence. They waited for the other students to filter out, to go to bed so they could talk freely. But perhaps their peers understood that, and so they lingered late into the night.

Harry searched the flames, thinking of Dumbledore’s smoke snake, and of Dumbledore’s trust in Tom. He told the Weasleys and Hermione what he knew very late in the evening after even the most stubborn student had abandoned them. It was a less awkward silence, but still an uneasy one then.


Harry was counting the bricks until the Charms classroom, listening vaguely for sounds of the Superintendent or other interlopers. He figured they’d be crawling around like ants, but in actuality, the halls were clear.

Harry vaguely remembered that the Ravenclaws shared a class with the Slytherins for charms this hour-- and Tom had promised to go to his classes, special-studies or no. Umbridge was likely to be there, too, Harry realized, and wondered if that meant Tom would be truant (to the irritation of his Head of House), or he would be minding his manners under the Toad’s nose.

Being curious, Harry crept closer.

“This lesson about over, you reckon?” someone was saying. It was the Aurors. One of them was the Not-Owls from his “Vanguard” over the summer, Tonks. He wondered if she kept her dove-gray sock.

“Waste of our time.” a deep voice growled in return. The other was the questionable Auror-- the same as the day before.

Interest peaked, Harry tread lighter still, stopping close enough to catch Tonk’s dutifully unobtrusive voice, and the other, low, rumbling one. “Dumbledore has let things go, this year.” The man continued. “Letting that Ministry woman on, and that fool Lockhart teach. Ever since he and Potter let You-Know-Who’s business be known to the general public, they’ve been trying to hush it up. And Dumbledore just lets them.”

Something about the man reminded Harry of Moody (the possibly real one from the Vanguard that summer). He frowned, wondering at that.

“You reckon that Potter kid has seer blood in him?” Tonks asked curiously.

The man laughed darkly. “Seer blood. Not likely.”

“Suppose not. He did see the present, and not the future...” Tonks mused.

“Everyone knows there’s something funny with the Potter kid.” The man said thickly. “Why wouldn’t he be worried? Potter is an observant kid, that’s for certain, but he’s seeing out of You-Know-Who’s snake. That’s practically admitting possession!”

Harry nearly tripped over his feet when he heard that. Harry backed away slowly, feeling the blood drain. He felt his heart race, his breath catch in his throat. The rest of the Auror’s conversation became white noise in his ears and the world seemed to be spinning. His skin felt prickly and hot, too tight for him and stretched thin in places. He couldn’t--- wasn’t possessed.

Harry struggled to remember to breath; to let the thoughts uncoil around him again.

“Harry?” someone asked lightly. He looked up into the clear blue eyes of Luna Lovegood, and stepped away from her hurriedly. Not clean. Not right. he thought desperately, best not get close.

Luna watched him as he stepped away from her. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m fine,” he bit out. He lied even as he wondered if he were shivering. He finally understood. That’s why Dumbledore doesn’t look at me... that’s why I knew Tom was taken. He’s already inside me. Voldemort is inside me.

He, Harry had controlled the snake, had maybe even controlled the Beast. Voldemort would use Harry-- was using Harry-- to get the weapon (Harry was sure it was Tom, now) from Hogwarts.

He turned away from Luna, barely hearing her, “Have the Nargles gotten inside again? You need to let them out, Harry Potter. Or they’ll start muddling your thoughts even more.”

Harry didn’t listen. Run. He would leave Hogwarts and not put himself in the position to help Voldemort get the weapon. He would leave. Harry stumbled as he ran, dislodging a suit of armor. Harry stared into the shiny surface and saw his own face reflected back. His eyes were wild, frightened. He did indeed look like a man possessed, or some kind of creature half mad with fear.

What do I do?

Next: Harry Flees

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Disclaimer
Note: Tonks and Polyjuiced-to-look-like-another-Auror Moody’s conversation is very close to JKR’s dialogue in the Order of the Phoenix, chapter 22 “St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries”), and there’s a direct quote from Dumbledore too. :) We’ve been diverging from canon all along though, though, so I hope you enjoy the differences.

Up-to-now Summary:
From Chapters 1 to 11, we have learned that Harry is mentally unstable. More recently, we learn that Dumbledore has allowed Tom into the school. Dumbledore thinks that keeping Tom in the dark is a mistake, so is encouraging him to become a part of the school. Tom himself looks to take advantage of the situation.
Whether Tom will come to aid Harry or return to Voldemort remains to be seen.
On the other hand, after Tom steals a book and the Beast infiltrates Hogwarts grounds, Harry realizes that Tom is not his enemy.
The Plot from now
1) How does a horcrux-brought-to-life live? How long will he last?
2) What is the Beast, and what does it want with Tom?
3) Dumbledore hints that Harry wasn't included in the memory charm so his character could be tested, but is this the case? Why can Ginny remember as well?
4) What do Harry's dreams mean, and how will they play into Occlumency lessons?
5) What will Voldemort do now? Has he realized Harry's presence in dreams?

A/N: So! Harry learns that Tom can be trusted (probably), but takes it to heart when he overhears someone calling Harry himself Possessed. How will he react?

Thoughts?
© 2014 - 2024 smallsmiles
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Leopold002's avatar
A foundation laying the basis, giving clues, for what's to come is always a good thing.