Chasing Harry

Chapter Seven: Phases

"How often do you see snakes laughing?"

His eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the haze. "I've never seen one."

"Exactly."

"Snakes don't laugh. What kind of question was that?"

"You just don't watch hard enough to see them."

He was handed a mirror, the delicate, gilded frame cold beneath his fingers. On the silvery surface, he saw the smoke that sheltered them, surrounding him and his companion.

"Go on."

Hesitantly, he raised the mirror. Holding it before him, he stared at himself.

"I just see me."

The man leaned in, his dark eyes amused. "Really? Maybe you should look closer."

He shifted his eyes back to his reflection. To his shock, he stared at his face. It swirled, disappeared, turning to red. Crimson--blood between the slits--a travesty of eyes that rested on sharp, pale cheekbones. Flesh that whispered places no one had ever dared to see. And it smiled, the colorless lips splitting into a mad grin, taunting him with unspoken threats.

He threw the mirror away in horror. It sank, dying beneath the fog.

He faced the man, gasping. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The dark eyes twinkled, staring at him proudly. "Ah, but don't you recognize me?"

He shook his head, shivering in the sudden cold. The world was getting dimmer, gray fading to black. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to hear the answer.

"I am you."

"No!"

***

Tom sat up, sweating. His alarm clock was singing shrilly--it was a plastic, purple bird that sang the same song over and over until he woke up. Cursing softly, he tapped the alarm (a little too hard) and it stopped, plunging his room back to silence. He should thank the person who left that on his door--if he ever found out who did.

Sighing, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He must have had another nightmare. It was a good thing that he never really remembered his dreams. Most of the time, he just awoke with just a slightly squeamish feeling in his stomach. Like today, for instance. He poked at the purple bird that was lying on its side at the bedside table.

"Seven o'clock!" it squawked.

It was time to get up.

***

"I think students should have more freedom when it comes to choosing their uniforms," Blaise Zabini complained as he adjusted his tie. "This big, black robe does absolutely nothing for me! It just makes me look colorless."

"Then get a tan!" Draco chortled as he poked his roommate's side. "You'll definitely look black and white if you stay indoors the whole day the way you do. Go out and play a little."

Blaise stared at him, scandalized. "The sun hurts my skin!"

"Unless you want to put make-up on then I don't think there's any other alternative," Draco shot back.

"Who's wearing make-up?"

"Tom!" Draco turned to the new voice. "Glad to see you're here early. Blaise has been moaning about his 'paleness' this early in the morning."

"Well, you could color your hair," Tom added helpfully, then grinned, imagining Draco's suggestion. "But the make-up would be more interesting."

Blaise sniffed. "Zabinis don't need cosmetics to look wonderful, thank you. But I'll think about the hair suggestion. Vincent!" he called out to Crabbe. "Do you still have that wussy girl magazine with the hair color ads?"

Draco chuckled as Crabbe started protesting, denying the existence of such a magazine.

"It seems to be a lot of fun here. Maybe I should ask Dumbledore to have me transferred to the Slytherin rooms. I really don't need to have a room for myself," Tom mused.

"Yes, especially when that room's so close to Gryffindor Tower. Eew! Imagine running into those goody-goodies everyday." Draco wrinkled his nose. "As if classes with them weren't bad enough."

"Oh it's not that bad, really. I hardly stay in my room. But walking to and from our common room to there every night can be tiring. The privacy is a good thing but I'm missing out on all the fun here."

"Why did the Headmaster place you there, anyway?"

"It was the initial apprehension over my arrival. He thought it was a good idea to stay separate from the main Houses just in case someone tried anything. But everyone's pretty much used to seeing me around these days."

"And to keep you closer to Potter, I imagine," Draco finished shrewdly. "He's Dumbledore's favorite, and he probably wanted you to make friends with his darling ickle boy... an attempt to take you away from our influence, I gather."

"And that too," Tom admitted. "But it didn't work out. We're not really friends."

"Glad you never got past the 'acquaintance' stage, then. Potter's no good."

At that comment, Tom felt his neck burn with sudden heat. Got past the acquaintance stage? They sure had gone past that stage! Way past... only they forgot to go through the usual stages in between. He was relieved that Draco turned his attention away from him right after that, as the blond boy was trying to intervene between Blaise and Crabbe. It wouldn't do to have anyone notice him blush right after mentioning Harry.

It had been days since he last saw the Gryffindor. Either he was spending too much time with his fellow Slytherins or Harry was making an excellent effort with avoiding him. He supposed it was for their own good... the separation. He had rushed things, and without Harry's consent. He had hurt someone again, only this time, it wasn't intentional.

"The next time you want to have a magazine hidden, then you should find a better hiding place than under your pillow!" Tom's attention was grabbed by Draco's remark.

"But it was just for research," Crabbe explained weakly. "Muggle Studies."

"Hah!" Blaise exclaimed, tossing his aristocratic head and glaring at Crabbe. "Everyone is in denial. Poosh!"

"And I suppose you're not," Draco said dryly.

"Oh no! I love myself. I am a free spirit!" Blaise said, spreading his arms ebulliently. "I accept everyone in the world... as long as they come up to my standards."

"That's interesting," Tom butted in. "And what are your standards?"

"Beautiful people, of course." Blaise's black eyes suddenly sparkled. "Like you. Are you taken, Tom?"

The question took a while to sink into his brain. "Taken? I suppose not if you don't... AM I WHAT?"

"Er... Blaise, keep Tom out of your field of interest. He might not move in with us then." Laughing, Draco grabbed his books from his bed. "C'mon, or we'll be late for class."

"Yeah, we better go." Tom grinned. "Bye guys!" He waved at the room in general, amused with Blaise's stormy expression. He pulled Draco out and closed the door behind them.

***

"Harry?"

"Ginny! Hi! What brings you here?" Harry smiled warmly and pulled a chair for her beside him. Fortunately, the library was nearly empty and Madame Pince seemed to have disappeared temporarily.

"Nothing important. I just felt like I haven't talked to you in a while." She sat beside Harry, resting her hands on her folded arms. "Am I bothering you?"

"Oh no! Not at all. I was just scanning through this essay. It's pretty much done, I'm just checking for errors I missed."

"I see." She watched him in silence as he continued reading. Soon, he started to feel uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

"Um.. Gin... is there something wrong?"

"I was just thinking. Do you remember how it was years ago, when I was so into you that I couldn't even talk to you straight?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "I couldn't figure out the real reason even when you practically said it. I was so thick then."

"Yes you were." She smiled back. "I couldn't seem to get your attention. Until Tom came."

"Tom?" The name startled him. He didn't want to think about Tom right now.

But Ginny didn't notice his discomfort. "Yes. The diary. I told him everything there, Harry. How I adored you in spite of your fame, how I wished for you to at least notice me even once, but you never did seem to see me. He knew everything, and he used my desire to take me... he almost killed me."

"Do you still hate him for that?" he asked softly.

"No," she admitted. "As much as I'd want to hate him, I don't. It's funny. I used to blame him then. I wanted to destroy him for almost ruining me. But when I saw him, alive as much as we are, looking at me with such... human eyes. Human, Harry! He wasn't the monster I had imagined him to be."

She sighed. "I understood what he did. He was imprisoned, unwanted. Kept as a reserve for vengeful reasons. Such a basis for existence would embitter a person. And, after a while, people would start to look like bodies--tools for the trade. He was desperate then, and he just took what he had available for survival. He wanted to live, really live."

"Is this... is this about Tom?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," she shook her head. "It's not about Tom. But it was Tom who made me realize what I have come here to say."

"And what do you have to say?" he was almost afraid to ask the question.

"Tom then... was very different to who he is now. He bounced back fuller, faster than anyone had expected. Although I can't see who he is inside, and I don't think I ever will, he represents something I have been trying to hide for a very long time now."

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she had to say. "I... I forgive him."

The tight feeling in his chest disappeared. "That's it?"

"Well, yes. I wanted to tell you that I forgave him. Really and truly." She smiled.

"Oh... have you told him?" He didn't know what to think. He was sure she was about to say something else.

"Yes, basically. Remember our talk?"

"The really long one? How could I forget? I waited for you outside."

"Well I told him that. And more. But the rest aren't important." She blushed. "Anyway, he promised me one thing, too. Something that might be of importance to you."

"Something about me?" Harry's eyes widened.

"Yes. I made him promise not to hurt you." She stared at him earnestly. "I was afraid that it might happen all over again: that nightmare that you just went through since you were a baby. I wanted to make sure by making him give his word." She suddenly frowned, her eyes taking on a strange look. "Has he hurt you, Harry?"

"No, he hasn't," he answered. Where it doesn't show. "And I don't think he ever will."

"I'm glad." She smiled. "He has found his niche, don't you think? I see him around his Housemates often. Not that I'm fond of them, but still, they're people. And on the bright side, he'll no longer be hanging out with basilisks."

They laughed, attracting the attention of an irritable Madam Pince who ended the prospect of any more conversations after that.

***

His move to the Slytherin dorm rooms was smooth. Dumbledore had quickly agreed with Tom's suggestion, knowing that the boy would have a more normal life with his fellow Slytherins.

Professor Snape had been pleased. Tom had been added to his list of favorite students after the boy's particular brilliance shone through with his schoolwork. The Potions Master dubbed him as another "star" from their House--a student everyone should emulate. The little speech, when he announced it to his Potions class, brought him looks of disbelief from the Gryffindors and smug, agreeing nods from the Slytherins. Tom, himself, had been rather stoic about the praise.

Draco found it amusing. "I like Professor Snape, as much as my father hates the idea. He's a good adviser, and the best Head of House in this school."

"I'm inclined to agree about that. He's very protective of his students." Tom paused. "Why does your father hate him?"

"It's not really hate. They used to be friends, before the Professor sided with the Order." He glanced at Tom. "I'm not bothering to hide anything from you. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, probably more. My father was... one of them."

Tom nodded. "Yes, I know what you meant. You're father..."

"I don't really want to know what he did," Draco cut him off. "I'm sorry, Tom. I was just not that close to him then. I loved him, yes. But we didn't see eye to eye. I refused to meddle in their affairs, and he never asked me again after the first time."

"I was going to say that your father covered his tracks well. There was no proof, aside from garbled stories that could not be proven."

"You won't say anything to anyone?" Draco asked in wonder. "You never have?"

Tom shook his head. "It is not for me to revisit. It's over. Voldemort is dead."

"If there was anyone who existed who could blow all the other Death Eaters cover then it's you. It's amazing that you haven't really said anything to the Aurors. Didn't they ask?"

"Yes." Tom smiled grimly. "But they didn't push the issue. I think they have their reservations when it comes to me. They don't trust me that much, you know. Not everyone agrees with Dumbledore."

"No one should agree with Dumbledore."

Both boys looked up from their seats, surprised to hear a new voice enter the conversation. Lucius Malfoy stood before them, resplendent in his elegant robes. He smiled, looking at Tom.

"Tom Riddle, I believe?"

"Yes." He took the offered hand, feeling the smooth aristocratic skin closing over his fingers. "I am Tom Riddle."

Lucius held on for longer than necessary. He looked at Tom with a bemused expression. After Tom tugged at his hand lightly, he finally released him.

"Pardon me, Tom. I'm sure you understand if I find our meeting rather strange."

"Father," Draco spoke up. "Why the sudden visit?"

"I was here for a board meeting. I took the opportunity to pass by you." He glanced at Tom once again, his gray eyes veiled. "I have to go now, Narcissa is expecting me early. It has been my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riddle."

"As is mine, Mr. Malfoy," Tom answered, smiling slightly.

"I'll be seeing you then."

He left, walking briskly away with his black cloak flaring behind him. Both boys watched his retreating figure.

"My father would never hurt you, Tom," Draco said suddenly, his expression troubled.

"I was not thinking of that," Tom soothed. "Don't worry. Like I told you, it's over."

A thoughtful look entered Draco's eyes. "Then, I assume that you won't be saying no to an invitation to the Manor during the holidays?"

The green eyes lit up. "You're inviting me?"

Draco grinned. "I didn't expect you to be excited. Yes, I am inviting you. Are you accepting my invitation?"

"Yes." Tom laughed. "I was never invited over the holidays before. This is a new thing for me. It'll be different from staying in Hogwarts for Christmas, I'm sure."

"Oh, yes. Very, very different."

***

Harry paused as he passed Tom's door on the way to his quarters. He was about to pass by when something grabbed his attention. The door. There was something wrong. Why was it ajar?

His arms full of books that he borrowed from the library, Harry pushed the door fully open with his foot. Darkness met him. Empty darkness. The furniture was gone. And so was Tom. The door to the bedroom was wide open too, showing the same emptiness except for the four-poster bed with the sheets stripped off. The bed where they... Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

For a moment, he panicked. Has something dangerous happened to the Slytherin? Why was everything gone?

"Harry?"

He nearly dropped the books. "Tom! You... you're here!"

"Yes." His brows furrowed. "Is there something wrong?"

"No! No. I just... I was just wondering why it's empty." Harry looked down, fighting the urge to flee. He wasn't ready to face him again. Seeing him brought back too many memories--memories he wished to forget.

"I see." Tom looked around. "I suppose it's rather sudden. I moved to the Slytherin dorms. Just yesterday."

Harry nodded, smiling vacantly. "That's good. It'll be great to stay with your Housemates. I meant your friends and all." Stop babbling, Harry.

"Well, it's rather more convenient," Tom agreed.

They didn't know what to say after that. A few seconds of staring avidly down on their respective feet ensued before Harry desperately broke the silence.

"So what brings you back?"

"I forgot something."

"Really? What is it?" He sounded a little breathless.

"This. Accio clock!" The little, purple alarm clock zoomed out of the dark bedroom into Tom's hand. He smiled at Harry as he showed him the trinket. "It's my alarm clock. Rather strange but it's effective." He poked the bird's tummy, making it shriek out the time. Eight thirty.

Harry laughed softly. He didn't expect that one coming. "That's a very interesting clock. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

"It was a gift. I don't know who gave it, though. I just found it in a box outside my door one morning. I mean to thank the giver, whoever he or she is. It never failed to wake me up."

"Yes. It must be handy." Harry turned away slightly. "I think I have to go now. I still have to bring this books to Hermione."

"Do you need help?" Tom offered.

"Need help with what?"

"The books."

"Oh. Well, no," Harry declined. "I can handle them."

"Okay, then. Bye Harry."

"Good night, Tom." He walked out the door, feeling the Slytherin's eyes on his back. Before he turned the corner, he heard Tom call out once more.

"Harry?"

He paused. Then turned around. Slowly. "Yes?"

"Take care of yourself." With that, Tom walked away, leaving his former room forever--with Harry staring after him.

***

"Why is it so hard to tell you how I feel?" She stared at the mirror woodenly, running her fingers over the glass. It left long, horizontal marks on the surface, marring her reflection. "How can I not tell you when you're with me?"

Anguished brown eyes stared back at her. How could she expect to receive answers from a mirror? There was nothing to see there but her own cowardice. Everyday, she asked her question, and never received an answer.

Brave in everything, except for what truly mattered.

"I still love you, Harry."

TBC