Killing Me Softly

Chapter Seven
Scars

"The first duty of love is to listen."
- Paul Tillich

*****

The large snake raised her head and sniffed the air. She decided that it was time to move on from her spot on the grass. A child human had seen the snake and panicked; its screams were still ringing in the air. Very soon its parents would come over and try to kill the snake.

"Silly human," the snake said to herself, "there is no need for this nonsense! I was never going to hurt you!" She slithered away as fast and far as she could.

Humans had to be the most peculiar creatures she had ever seen in her life. They were a paranoid bunch, frightened of everything in their environment. Their excitement always doubled whenever they came near another animal. "I have had enough of smelling their fear for a day!"

While passing the forest, she heard a snake call out. She turned her head around, but she could not find the fellow snake. If he's smaller than me, I will have him for dinner... She followed the call until she found the source.

It was the strangest thing she had ever seen. It was nothing like a snake. A small, grayish, cloud-like creature was nestled on a patch of grass.

"Come to me," it hissed.

"My, what do we have here?" she said. "You're nothing like the other snakes I've seen before."

"I am a human," the cloudy creature said.

"A human?" the snake asked, amused. "I've seen a lot of humans in my time, but none like yourself. I never thought they could speak to me."

"Only a very few can," the human said. "I am a wizard, and I lost my body due to an unfortunate accident. I haven't been well ever since."

"Isn't that sad," the snake commented.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you could nurse me back to health. I will never forget your kindness. I will protect you from all harm."

The snake coiled herself around the tiny wizard. He was icy cold.

"I don't know how I can help you," she said. "I've had children in the past, sixty of them, but they were nothing like you."

"You will be of great help," the wizard assure her. He climbed over her back as though he were a grayish slime oozing over her. "I need to use your venom."

Before the snake could ask how he could do that, the wizard grasped the sides of her head with phantom arms. She felt her jaw snap open, and the cloud rushed into her mouth. He suckled the venom from her fangs; his body grew warmer with each swallow.

When he was done, he let go of her jaw. The snake stared at the wizard's body, a little dazed. Although it still resembled a small cloud, there was a visible black curved line across the middle. She suddenly felt an odd attraction towards him; she wanted to protect him...

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yesss," the wizard hissed. "Thank you. What is your name?"

The snake had to think for a bit. It had been a while since she had told her name to another snake. I'm getting old, the snake thought. What was it my old mate used to call me?

"I am called Nagini," the snake finally said.

"I am Lord Voldemort," the wizard said. "You can address me as 'my lord.'"

"Yes, my lord," Nagini said.

"I want you to take me somewhere," Lord Voldemort said, "to a place that will help cure me."

"Yesss, my lord," Nagini said, and she slithered out of the forest, following the directions her new master gave her.

***

Tom found the energy to leave the library the next afternoon. He first checked to make sure Harry wasn't walking around in the manor; then he quickly slipped out and headed for the nearest bathroom.

A chaotic mess greeted him at the mirror. His robes were twisted around his body. His eyes were severely bloodshot, and his hair was more unruly than Harry's. It was apparent that he had been crying.

It's been only two months since we came here, Tom thought sulkily, and already Harry has shaken me in ways no one ever has in my entire life.

Tom splashed water over his eyes before heading to the shower. When he was done, he checked his eyes to see that they gave no indication of his tears. He threw the old robes over himself and headed for the bedroom.

Harry was sitting on the bed, reading a book and looking as though he was about to fall asleep.

"Tom!" Harry gasped when he noticed Tom was in the room. He quickly perked up. "How are you?"

Tom ignored Harry's question. "I'm going to head out for a while." He paused, staring at the nuisance that had witnessed his birth. "Do you have an appetite for anything in particular?"

"Not really. I'll have anything you get, thanks," Harry said. He looked a little surprised. Tom quickly left before Harry could bombard him with questions.

***

Harry stared at the spot Tom had been earlier, still surprised at what had just happened. Did he just ask me what I wanted to eat?

He smiled and went back to his book. Although his eyes scanned over the words, Harry's mind didn't register their meanings. His mind was still distracted by Tom.

***

When Harry entered the dining room he watched Tom's every move. He was going to go in for his first attack once dinner was underway.

Tom was finishing laying out the meal he had gotten from a Muggle town. He gestured for Harry to take a seat across from him. Harry, however, sat next to Tom. Tom looked as though he wanted to protest, but instead he decided to ignore Harry.

Harry watched Tom as he scooped a large spoonful from every fancy dish.

"This meal had to be very expensive," Harry commented, frowning. He knew that Tom didn't have the money for the meals. "How are you getting all this?"

"It's a secret," Tom said, smiling. "After what I went through, I believe I am entitled to this. Besides, I enjoy eating."

"I noticed," Harry said. "You like food; the fancier, the better."

They ate in silence for several minutes before Harry spoke again. "You saw the vision of my mother and me." Tom suddenly looked a little tense, but he ignored Harry. "I never remembered being with her. The dream made me a little sad. I miss her."

"You never knew her," Tom said, looking up at Harry.

"True, I never did know the kind of person she was," Harry said. "But if she came back to life and I met her, I would be nice to her. Would you do the same for your mother?"

"No," Tom said firmly and went back to his meal.

Okay, so this is a bad example to start with, Harry thought, disappointed. There had to be some way to teach Tom about love. There had to be at least one example that Tom could relate to...and then the idea hit Harry. I can't believe I'm going to be saying this!

"Then what about your older self?" Harry suggested. "You said that you're looking to find your older self. Well, let's say that you do. You find him, but he is sick. What are you going to do?"

"Help him, of course," Tom said. "I will need him for our mission."

"But isn't there another reason you want to help him?" Harry pressed. "He's a part of you. Don't you love your older self?"

Tom seriously considered Harry's words. "So, this will all tie back to the matter of love," he finally said. "Yes, I do care for myself; up to a certain point in time, we were one being." He glanced at Harry. "Are you telling me that the reason why I should help other people is because I am connected to them?"

"Well, yeah...I guess we are all connected," Harry said. He hadn't thought of it that way before. "We are from the same species and everything. But that's not the only reason. Imagine if it was you who was sick and Voldemort found you, but instead of taking care of you, he left you to suffer."

Tom laughed. "That's impossible!"

"Just please imagine if it did happen, for at least a second," Harry said. "How would you feel if Voldemort hurt you?"

Tom pondered the idea in his head. Harry was pleased to see that Tom was taking this discussion seriously.

"I would be very upset," Tom said after a while. "I am a part of him. It would shock me to be treated in such a matter, especially by him."

"Good," Harry said. "You know how it feels if someone hurts you. Always imagine yourself in other people's places and ask yourself how you would feel if you were wronged." Harry bit his lower lip, unsure if he was being clear. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I think I do," Tom said. He took a spoonful of rice before continuing. "I must treat my older self in a similar fashion as I would like him to treat me."

"Yes!" Harry said happily. "The same applies to everyone out there. Treat every human out there the same way you want to be treated."

Tom's jaw slightly dropped. "You want me to treat everyone like a god?"

"No, if you don't want to," Harry said hurriedly, "but it would be nice if you just treated people with respect and kindness. It doesn't have to be worship. Just be nice."

"And what do you consider an act of kindness?" Tom asked.

"Anything," Harry said. "A smile. Just smile at people. It will make you feel better too. And help others. If someone drops something, give the object back to them."

"I've returned belongings before," Tom declared.

"Without expecting a reward?" Harry challenged. A corner of Tom's mouth twitched. Harry sighed. "Next time, give something back without expecting to get anything in return."

"That's absurd!" Tom said. "If I take the time to give something to another human, I expect to be rewarded! I do not tolerate leaving empty-handed! I expect to have my actions appreciated."

"You will get a reward!" Harry argued. "It's not always an object." Tom stared at Harry, puzzled. "You feel something when you give to someone, and sometimes that feels better than getting a physical reward. You can sometimes sense the appreciation another person has when you help them." Harry wanted to kick himself. He wished he could explain this better to Tom.

But Tom didn't argue. He considered Harry's words seriously for a few moments. Please let him understand, Harry hoped.

Tom eyed a small piece of chicken on his plate. He looked back at Harry, who understood what Tom was thinking.

"Would you like to give me something?" Harry asked. Tom nodded. He speared the piece of meat and dropped it into Harry's plate. "Thank you," Harry said, eating Tom's little gift. Tom studied him for a while.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked.

"I have less food on my plate," Tom pointed out.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "And I am very happy you gave it to me. That was nice of you. Sometime in the future, I might give something to you in return."

It was Tom's turn to smile. "What could you give to me?" He put in more food on Harry's plate. Harry responded by putting a little bit from his own meal into Tom's plate.

They exchanged every now and then throughout the rest of dinner. Tom contemplated Harry whenever he ate something from Tom.

"I feel oddly satisfied watching you eat something I personally gave you," he said.

"Did you want me to have every bite?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Tom said. "I kept telling myself that I wanted every morsel in your stomach."

Harry smiled. "That's what I meant earlier about rewards. Your reward right now is that you feel satisfied. You gave away your food, but something inside you is happy about that. You gain something by giving something away."

"And that is love?" Tom looked a little surprised.

"Yes, it's a form of love," Harry said. "Generosity. People usually feel this kind of love after they've helped others. It's not a bad feeling, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Tom admitted, turning back to his own plate. "It's not a very extreme emotion either. It's light, barely noticeable if you're not paying attention. I can handle this emotion. But there is a bad side to generosity. If you give away too much and the person does not appreciate your efforts, you are hurt."

"There is a good and bad side to everything," Harry explained, "but if you really want to understand love you have to focus on the good side first."

"So it's just like the study of a magical creature's physiology," Tom concluded. "You first study how a creature's body works before you study what can go wrong inside it. Know the theory – understand the basics before you can branch out." He nodded. "I can do that."

"That's a good way to put it," Harry said, smiling. "So generosity, in theory, is a good feeling."

"Yes," Tom agreed. "It's a vaguely pleasant feeling." He returned the smile. "What else can you tell me about love?"

"What else do you want to know?"

"How many kinds of love are there?"

Harry bit his lip, struggling for an answer. "There's a lot," he finally said. "Friendships, marriage, hobbies...um...there's too many kinds."

"What kind of love is generosity? Friendship?"

"No," Harry said. "You can show generosity to complete strangers."

"Then it is love between man and his world," Tom concluded, feeling a little proud of himself. "Interesting."

"Do you care about the world, Tom?" Harry asked.

"Of course I do," Tom said quickly. "I just do not care for many of its annoying human inhabitants. I have had more meaningful conversations with vipers than fellow humans."

Harry chuckled. "You do like something then! You care about this earth...and food." Harry motioned to the expensive meal on the table. "You need to work on your relationship with humans." His eyes widened as an idea dawned on him. "I'm going to give you homework," Harry blurted out before he could think more on the matter. Tom stared at him, a look of both surprise and interest in his eyes. "Your first homework is to make a list of everything that you deeply care about."

"How will that help me?" Tom asked.

"We can go over the list, see what you're missing, and work on those areas," Harry explained.

"It's a dumb idea," Tom said after thinking about it.

***

But later that day, Tom did work on his list. He thought long and hard about what gave him a pleasant feeling inside. After half an hour passed, he had written down only two words: 'magic' and 'earth.'

Tom frowned at his short list. This is harder than I thought. The more Tom contemplated, the more he realized that there was nothing that gave him as much pleasure as doing magic. He felt empty, apathetic, to everything and everyone in the world. The only other emotion he felt at times was anger. Surely there's got to be other activities that I enjoy! Tom thought desperately, suddenly feeling self-conscious of his list. Surely I cannot be this empty inside! What else do I enjoy doing? I like to eat; that gives me pleasure.

Tom was about to jot the word down, but he stopped. I really love rice, Tom thought, smiling at the mental image of a large bowl of steaming white and wild rice, and roast chicken, every kind of potato, earl grey tea, peach pie, toast and marmalade, buttered corn, steak and kidney pie...

Tom presented Harry his list the next day. Harry beamed when he first saw it, but as he read down the list, the smile changed into a frown.

"Besides 'magic' and "earth," you just listed names of food," Harry said.

"You said to write down everything that I liked," Tom argued.

Harry sighed. "There's not a single name of a person, not even your name. Isn't there a teacher you appreciated? What about those students you were with in some of the dreams? Aren't they your friends? Don't you care about any of them?"

"It never crossed my mind to add my name to the list," Tom confessed. "I thought hard about the people I knew at Hogwarts, and I honestly feel nothing for them." Harry bit his lower lip and frowned again.

"I think a part of you hates yourself," Harry said seriously.

Tom's eyes widened. "How can I hate myself?" he asked, sounding a little angry and confused.

"If you cared about yourself, your older self wouldn't be in the place he is right now," Harry explained. "You need to do something nice for yourself. What do you do when you're not in the house?"

"Library," Tom answered simply.

"Next time, don't go near the Muggle library," Harry said. "Look inside other buildings. Treat yourself out to a café and just relax. Spend time walking around this forest; you love nature, don't you?" Tom nodded. "Then take the time to enjoy the scenery. Ever since we came here you've been either locked up in this library or the Muggle library. I don't want you to do that. For an immortal, you're not living life."

He has a point, Tom admitted to himself.

***

Taking Harry's advice to heart, Tom didn't enter the Muggle library the next time he went to the local town. He walked into stores and browsed around, looking at the modern products on sale. He tried his best to find an interest in color televisions, stereos, and video game consoles, but to no success. There was simply no beauty in the electrical gadgets.

Tom decided on next treating himself to a double fudge chocolate cake. With one faint flick of his wand, Tom produced Muggle money from his pocket and paid the waiter with a smile. The money would be visible for another twelve hours, and by the time anyone noticed that they lost money, there was no way it could be traced back to Tom. He always got away with it.

The cake proved to be more enjoyable than the silly Muggle inventions. Tom savored every spoonful, thinking enviously about how lucky people were today. They were never scarce on sugar and chocolate. Binge away, ungrateful brats! You will never know what it is like to go to Hogsmeade and find Honeydukes Sweetshop closed due to the war.

After his dessert, Tom headed back to the forest, but this time he strolled around to areas he hadn't visited before. His spirits sunk after he saw the dozens of litter Muggles had left behind.

Keep this up, and you will lose the only planet that can maintain life, Tom thought irritably as he kicked a Styrofoam container.

The anger didn't leave Tom until a while later when he sat next to a river. He tried to lie back and enjoy his surrounding, but his mind kept flashing back to a hundred other thoughts about the modern world. He looked down at the river and focused on a small fish in the moving water. Whenever his mind began to wander, Tom would push himself to concentrate back on the river life.

Time passed, and Tom relaxed. He had spent ten minute just staring down at the river. When he realized this, Tom smiled. He felt a little better.

Harry is right, Tom thought. I must do this more often. He suddenly realized that he had been out longer than he had wanted. Harry would be very hungry by now, and Tom felt he owed Harry a big meal. He helps me, and I reward him.

***

"What were you doing all day?" Harry asked when Tom arrived.

"Taking your advice," Tom replied as he set the bags with their meal on the dinner table. "I experienced a little bit of life."

Harry smiled. Tom didn't say any more on the matter, but he looked a tiny bit happier than he had been when he left. Harry had a feeling Tom hadn't hurt anyone; his expression would have held a sinister sneer rather than a tranquil smile.

"Did you think about your friends?" Harry asked sometime later.

"No," Tom said, suddenly frowning a little. "They never crossed my mind."

"You should think about them next," Harry advised. "You must miss them at least. Didn't you have any good times with them?"

"I never thought about it," Tom said.

"Then you should," Harry said. "Also, I want you to think of your mother every night." Tom's mouth twitched. "Think of what she did for you. I want you to be able to say 'I love you, Mum,' okay?"

"I'll try," Tom said.

***

To Harry's delight, Tom took the matter of learning love seriously. During every meal he would listen to Harry, throwing out a question every now and then. He was determined to understand everything about love, and Harry was determined to teach him all he knew.

Every day, the quantity and quality of food Tom brought home increased. Harry ate as much as he could because Tom got very upset if Harry threw any food away.

"If you lived during my time," Tom would rant, a mad light in his eyes, "you would understand. There is nothing more precious in this earth than filling your belly!"

"I'm overstuffed!" Harry would complain, feeling as though he was about to pass out, but he forced another spoonful into his mouth.

After meals, Tom would work ferociously in the library. He took notes on scrolls of parchment of everything Harry had told him. When he ran out of parchment, Tom grabbed the fiction novels and began writing in them. This greatly upset Grindelwald.

"Get out! Don't disturb me!" Tom screamed at the painting, threatening the dark couple with his wand.

"That book is a rare deluxe edition!" Grindelwald argued angrily.

"I said, SHUT UP!" Tom screamed. A curse slashed the painting, and the couple ran for cover. The next day, they returned, but instead of standing comfortably in the middle of the painting, they watched the manic boy from a corner.

"Why does a person love even if the object of their affection does not love them in return?" Tom mumbled as he scribbled on another ill-fated novel. "Why can't love always be felt in both parties? Why do some people love someone who isn't a good person and that person knows it?"

He turned around and spotted Grindelwald and Aderyn. "You!" Tom pointed at Grindelwald. "Why did you marry your wife? She's not the prettiest witch on the planet." Aderyn threw him a filthy look.

Grindelwald shrugged. "The first time we met, she was in the most foul of moods."

"And you married her after that?" Tom asked, surprised.

"I can handle her temper," Grindelwald said. He smiled and patted Aderyn's head as though she were a small child. Tom frowned, confused.

"You can handle her bad side," Tom said more to himself than Grindelwald. "Is that a part of love? Is that why parents love their children although the children disobey and anger them?"

The thought still troubled Tom by nighttime. He found himself unable to sleep that night as he tried to sort out the question. He turned towards the sleeping Harry.

"Harry," Tom softly called. He gently shook Harry, but he didn't wake up. Getting angry, Tom slapped him across the face and pulled at Harry's hair. Harry jerked awake, screaming at the pain.

"What are you doing?" he shrieked, eyeing Tom with half-open eyes.

"I have a question," Tom said.

Harry groaned. "You woke me up just for that? Can't it wait till tomorrow?"

Tom ignored Harry and went on with his question, but before he was done, Harry had fallen asleep again. "Wake up!" Tom yelled angrily, and he aggressively shook Harry until he pushed him away. Now fully awake, Harry listened to Tom and tried to give an answer as best as he could.

"It's called forgiveness," Harry said, annoyed.

"I've done that before!" Tom quickly said as though something had just dawned on him.

"It's a little different than when we forgive a stranger or enemy," Harry said. "We need to do this every now and then with the person we love, and afterwards we still love the person. You should try it, Tom. Learn to forgive your mother. Think of what she went through to bring you to this world." Harry turned around on the bed and fell asleep.

***

For the next several nights, Tom tried to forgive his mother. Her face never left his mind at night. At first, Tom fought against the images that continued to pierce him painfully. I hate you, woman. You are weak. You deserted me.

But as the nights went by, Tom's thoughts slowly changed. His mother's face was breaking through his inner barrier, invading his empty heart with her presence. Several times Tom found himself imagining what his mother looked like when she was healthier; a few times he caught himself daydreaming of holding her hand while strolling together in a park. I don't hate you, woman, but I won't forgive you. I don't love you either, and I never will. I don't love anyone! Next to him, Harry snored softly.

Tom sighed. But the more I resist love, the more it drives me mad.

He dreamed of what life would have been like had his mother stayed alive. Before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Tom would have proudly showed his mother his prefect badge; delight would show on her face as she hugged him.

I was the first in my class, Tom thought sadly. I wish you were there, mother. That day would have been more special to me than just sitting in the orphanage, holding my badge in my room with not a single soul to show it to.

The following night, he imagined being a fetus inside his mother's warm womb. He imagined his mother lightly touching her belly as she staggered through snowy London. Tom felt a sudden tightening in his chest.

I suffered alongside her, Tom suddenly realized. I must have been her only company during her final weeks. He shook his head and tried to get to sleep.

Later that night, Tom woke up feeling a bitter chill run down his body. His body was shaking. Although the house was warm, he was cold. The chills were coming from inside his body.

No! I don't want to feel this anymore! Tom thought. He hated this feeling that possessed his body on occasions throughout his life.

He turned his head towards Harry. Tom inched closer until he could feel Harry's body heat. It was soothing, and the closer he got, the less cold his body felt.

He was close enough to watch a thin line of drool trickle down Harry's chin. The warmth felt nice indeed. Was this a part of love? Did people cuddle close to each other and hug in order to give each other warmth, to stop this bitter coldness from inhabiting their bodies? How would it have felt like to be held in his mother's arms?

Very warm, almost like being back in the womb, Tom imagined.

His eyes swept over Harry's wrists. You're gaining weight, he realized, smiling. I was getting disgusted seeing your bones popping out. I should feed you until you get fat and soft like a sheep. He chuckled at the mental image.

Sleep swept over Tom again. When he woke up the next morning, he was still very close to Harry. He quickly moved away and left the room before Harry woke up.

***

Tom's life was not completely void of happiness, Harry noted. A couple times he dreamt of Tom having mischievous fun with his school friends. It seemed like his happiest moments were at Hogwarts, something Harry could sympathize with.

In one dream, Harry was outside the orphanage on a bright spring day. A few young boys, including Tom, were arguing with each other. Tom had tried to break away from the group and sit far away, but the little children continued to annoy him. One mean-looking blonde boy decided to pull down his pants and urinate all over Tom.

Tom shrieked angrily, and turning around, he pulled down his pants. The amount of urine he sprayed the boys with shocked Harry. He's got to be magically supplying it! The soaked children's screams filled the air, punctured by Harry's laughter that none of the boys could hear.

Just then the front doors flew open and a very angry Mrs. Armstrong marched out. "THOMAS! GET BACK HERE, BOY!" she roared. Tom cursed and ran as fast he could.

Harry doubled over. He was still laughing when he woke up.

"I remember that day," Tom said as he straightened up in bed. "Mrs. Armstrong had to climb a tree in order to drag me back into the building. I received a spanking for my naughtiness, no matter how many times I told them I did not start it."

"Tom and Jerry!" Harry giggled.

Tom stared at him, confused. "None of the boys' names were Jerry," he said. Harry was too busy laughing to explain to Tom about what Mrs. Armstrong reminded him of. Tom continued to stare at Harry, watching the tears run down his face. A genuine smile broke on Tom's face.

"If you think this was funny, you should have seen the time I put a small snake in Father Jonathan's Bible," Tom said.

"Tell me about it," Harry said, wiping the tears of mirth on his face. "I think this will beat the time I turned my teacher's hair blue."

"I will," Tom said. "After that, I want to hear about that teacher of yours."

***

A few days later, Tom sat across one of the couches in the library, twiddling a quill between his long fingers.

They used to always call me Lord Voldemort, Tom thought. He smiled, remembering his old school friends. He was popular with many students at Hogwarts, but only seven knew of the name he created.

"Good morning, Lord Voldemort!" they used to tell him whenever they were alone. "How was your day, Lord Voldemort? Cheerio, Lord Voldemort!"

Tom closed his eyes. He felt like he was sent back in time to those lovely days at Hogwarts. He was surrounded by students who admired him, and he felt like a god amongst them. He was looked up to by every other student. The teachers, save for Dumbledore, loved him. He owned Hogwarts; he was their leader.

He did mischief in the school but never was there evidence of his wrongdoings. His friends followed in his footsteps and caused chaos. In the group were weak individuals who sought protection or talented students wishing to learn more from Tom. With Tom around, his group was feared and respected. They ruled the school. Together, with him being the leader, they were unstoppable.

Tom's smile widened as more delightful memories filled him. He remembered himself constantly teasing Claudius Mulciber about his horrible grades, Garfield Lestrange and Douglas Avery getting into their daily arguments, Antonin Dolohov sneaking in firewhiskey from The Hog's Head, and Marilyn Rosier finding a way to magically play her favorite music on the record player while she studied; Tom could almost hear "Rhapsody in Blue" playing in the air at that very moment. Eileen Prince and Orion Black were younger than him, but both showed promising talent in magic. Tom remembered his friends and him when they used to loudly sing offensive songs while running outside on the school grounds near the lake. The laughter exploded.

"Here's something you don't see every day from this lad," Grindelwald commented to his wife.

"Watch it, boy, or you'll pass out!" Aderyn warned. Tom didn't pay attention to the painting; he was lost in his blissful memories, laughing from deep within his heart.

***

"I heard you laughing in the library," Harry said later that night while Tom got into bed. "What were you doing in there?"

"I was thinking of the days I had with my school friends," Tom explained. He was still smiling slightly.

Harry smiled. "Do you miss them?"

"I was briefly seized by a feeling of nostalgia," Tom admitted. "They were always behind me, my little comrades. We terrorized the entire school with our mischief. I felt like we owned the school; we were a force to be reckoned with, every one of us."

"That must have been nice," Harry said, "without the terrorizing part."

Tom chuckled. "There was Douglas Avery. You've seen him; he's the one with the light brown hair. He was an idiot. Every time he saw a lady, it was a nightmare. I was always embarrassed being in the same room as him whenever he attempted to impress one. No lady ever dated him; they all hated him." He sighed. "There was Marilyn Rosier, from Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" Harry gasped. Tom turned to him.

"Not all Gryffindors are innocent lambs, little Potter," Tom explained in a mockingly sugary tone, tapping Harry's nose gently with a long finger. "Rosier was very passionate about ridding the school of Mudbloods. She openly supported Grindelwald in school."

"And Professor Dippet allowed her to stay?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Professor Dippet was a soft man," Tom said, his smile widening. "He would allow a manticore to stay at Hogwarts if it expressed interest in acquiring an education."

"I cannot believe you befriended a Gryffindor," Harry said.

"I had contacts from every house and from different years," Tom declared proudly. "There was Eileen Prince from Ravenclaw and Claudius Mulciber from Hufflepuff. Through them I could keep tabs on what was happening in other Houses. Their loyalties to me outweighed their loyalties to their own House. I could spy on anyone I wanted."

That's clever of him, Harry admitted to himself, impressed.

"I must admit, I miss having them around," Tom continued. "They would do whatever I commanded of them. I could insult them all I wanted and still find them huddled next to me like loyal dogs."

Harry frowned. "That's not friendship, Tom."

"What do you mean?"

"They may have liked you, but I don't think you ever felt love for them," Harry said. "You didn't respect them. You need that in a friendship."

"But the feelings I have now - "

"Your feelings are coming from nostalgia," Harry explained. "You just want people to gather around you, serve you, and be in awe of your every move." He sighed. "Maybe you can use that feeling to start learning to love your friends." Silence followed for several minutes. "Do you want to reconnect with them?" Harry asked after a while.

Tom shrugged, clearly put down. "It would be strange to one day meet an old friend who never grew a white hair."

***

A couple of days later Tom decided to visit the magical community located many miles from the manor. He bought a lot of extra food for Harry and placed it in the dining room. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Tom magically altered small features of his face and hair with his wand. He fattened his cheeks. His pointy nose became more round, his eyes slimmed, his full lips thinned, and his hair changed to light brown. While humming the tune "Sentimental Journey," Tom left the house and took the first bus ride that led to the village.

This was Tom's first time in the village; he didn't want to visit here too often in case Professor Dumbledore sent the villages pictures of him. His disguise was fragile. If one took a good long look at him, they could see through it.

It took him a while to find the library, and when he located the small building, he wasted no time. He headed straight to the references.

Every magical library contained records of every witch and wizard that lived in the country. The only trick was to find the right names among dozens of shelves. Tom pulled out books starting with R and settled down nearby. He pulled out a small stack of parchment paper, a quill, and a bottle of ink from his pockets. He eagerly dipped his quill in the ink bottle and positioned it above the parchment.

He found Rosier's name, but Tom's smile disappeared when he saw the date next to her birth date: May 6, 1945.

She died just a few days after Grindelwald's defeat, Tom realized. What happened? Marilyn's brother Linus was also listed as dead, but on a later date. Linus Rosier's son, Evan Rosier, died sometime in 1980.

Tom put the book back and pulled out a different volume. He looked up Eileen Prince. She had died on October 23, 1980. She had been married in 1957 to a Muggle named Tobias Snape.

Tom's jaw dropped slightly. I never expected that from you! Tom thought, shaking his head. His mind suddenly registered a name Ginny had written in his diary several months ago: Professor Snape. I wonder how much he takes after her, my little mastermind...

Tom found no luck with his other classmates. He searched through old newspaper articles for any explanation on Rosier, Prince, and Black's deaths, but he couldn't find any. However, he found a photo Harry was sure to like. Tom made a copy of the page and stuffed it in his pocket before going back to his search.

His friends either had died or were in prison, as was the case with Antonin Dolohov and Claudius Mulciber. Douglas Avery was still alive and not in prison. He was married and had a son. So you finally found a lady who would marry you? Tom thought bitterly. He put the book away, and feeling strangely depressed, he headed back home.

***

"What happened? Where were you?" Harry asked when Tom entered the bedroom. Tom grunted, grabbed his night clothes, and left to change in the bathroom. It was evening, and Tom's fragile disguise had already disintegrated. When he returned, he looked tired and gloomy.

He stared at Harry for a bit, looking as though he was wondering if he should tell him. Harry encouraged him.

"I went looking for information about my...friends," Tom began. He settled on his side of the bed. "They all are either dead or in Azkaban - that's the wizarding prison. Only Avery is still alive, apparently living a cozy life with a wife and a son."

"You don't want to contact him?" Harry asked.

"No!" Tom said bitterly. Harry raised his eyebrows. Tom's lower lip trembled angrily. "He was nothing more than an embarrassing, dim-witted idiot! He would have never graduated from school had I not helped him with his assignments! How did he end up with a life of luxury when my older self is somewhere out there in the cold!"

He suddenly jumped out of bed. "I found something you'd like," he added.

He rummaged through his day robes and gave Harry the object he pulled out. It was an old photo from a newspaper. A thin, spectacled young man stood beside a counter smiling proudly, his arms crossed and his shoulders straight. He seemed familiar.

"His name was Gerald Potter," Tom said, and Harry looked up at him.

"My grandfather?" Harry said.

Tom nodded. "Apparently, he was a successful business man in Gringotts."

Harry smiled. "Thank you!" He looked back at the photo. "Did you know him?"

"He was a first year when I entered my sixth year," Tom said.

"How was he like?"

"Like any other first year: very short, nervous, and a tad stupid." Harry turned back to him. "He wasn't special, Harry. He didn't have a magical scar like you."

"Sorry I asked," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "You're still hurt about what happened to your classmates?"

"That would be an appropriate way of putting it," Tom snapped. Harry frowned and set the photo aside.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry said. "Why were you so obsessed with becoming an immortal at such a young age? Why put a part of yourself in a diary and miss out on being with your friends? Why couldn't you wait until you were ninety before you made yourself immortal?"

Tom watched Harry for a very long time, thinking hard and frowning. "It's not like I can keep anything from you for very long," he eventually said. "You've seen parts of my past no one else ever will. You've seen my birth..." He straightened up on the bed and began to unbutton his night gown. "You're not the only one with a scar that changed your life, Harry. Some day, you may even witness this event." Tom turned his back on Harry and slipped the night gown off his shoulders.

Harry gasped, now understanding why Tom never changed in the same room as him. Running diagonally down his back, from his right shoulder to the left side of his hip, was a deep scar. Harry reached out and touched the scar.

"I was seven when I got injured," Tom explained. "It was during the annual summer trip to the country. I was chasing a fellow orphan around an abandoned barn. Inside was full of heavy equipment. One was on a shelf, and when I bumped hard into the wall, the shelf shook, and it fell. The sharp machine fell on me right on my back. The kid I was chasing ran to get help.

"The doctor told me that had the machine cut one centimeter deeper into my spine, I would have been paralyzed starting from the middle back, if I was lucky. There was a chance I could have died.

"I was shocked when I learned this. I had killed small animals before, but I never thought I too would die. Do you now see why I cannot wait until I get older? A life can be snatched away as quick as lightening. I cannot take that risk; I wanted to live forever."

"And was it all worth it in the end?" Harry asked. "Just today you realized that your time with your friends was cut short because of your quest."

"I do not regret my decision!" Tom quickly said.

"You're not living, Tom," Harry said. "Your heart is beating, but you are not living." Tom bit his lower lip; Harry smiled sadly. His hand glided over Tom's right shoulder and squeezed tightly. "Relax, Tom. You're too stressed."

"I can never relax," Tom said, laughing lightly.

"Lie down," Harry ordered gently. Tom hesitated, but he obeyed when Harry instructed him again. He lay on his stomach on the bed, right side of his head against the soft pillow. "I'm not an expert at this," Harry confessed as he positioned himself above Tom, "but I'll try my best."

Recalling snippets from television programs that were on the matter, Harry massaged Tom's back the best he could. He stared at Tom's face, watching him closely.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked after a while.

"No," Tom said, annoyed. "I don't like you touching me."

"I'm not going to hurt you," Harry said, sighing. "Have I done anything to harm you yet? No. I'm trying to help you." He continued making slow, circular caresses around Tom's back. "I want to help you," Harry repeated again softly after a while. "Please relax."

"I'll try," Tom said.

"So, you were seven when you learned that you can die," Harry said. "I was five. I used to ask Aunt Petunia how I got my scar. At first she wouldn't tell me; 'Don't ask questions!' she used to yell. Finally, she told me that my parents died in a car accident, and it was too bad I didn't also die."

"How did you feel?" Tom asked.

"I figured that if death was not the Dursley's house, then it was not bad," Harry replied. Tom laughed. "When I learned what it really was, I just accepted it."

"Why?"

"I don't know really. It's natural, I guess. It happens to everyone."

"Except you and me," Tom added.

"Thanks a lot, Tom," Harry chastised teasingly. Tom grinned.

Slowly, Tom's body became less tense underneath Harry's hands. His eyes drooped, and a few minutes later, he was asleep. Harry ceased his activity and covered Tom with the blanket. He smiled at Tom and lied down right next to him.

Later that night when Tom awoke, he found Harry sleeping close to him.

Little brat, he thought, smiling. I lost all of my friends, if you could call them that. Looks like I'm stuck with you forever. He sighed as images of his classmates came back. Will I ever experience those days again? he thought, his eyes never leaving Harry. Can I claim back the life I left behind? Could you be the ticket to that life?

***

"I want you to call me Lord Voldemort," Tom announced the next day during breakfast.

"I'm never calling you that," Harry said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Your mother named you Tom. I respect your mother and her wishes, so I'm calling you Tom whether you like it or not."

Tom wanted to kick Harry, but he had a point. There goes my wish of ever hearing 'Cheerio, Lord Voldemort' again, he thought sulkily.