The Sun Sets Twice Again

Tom felt that his new found stupidity was truly growing in leaps and bounds; walking into Dumbledore's office with a boy who considered him his primary mortal enemy had to be one of the most idiotic things he had ever done. He didn't even have any allies in the school; indeed, all those who knew of his identity within the boundaries of Hogwarts more than likely had wanted him dead at one point or another, one such point possibly being 'now'. Still, he knew he should be able to manage this quite simply; after all, he had more than a little practice at being unwanted. He hadn't let it get to him before and had no reason to now. Especially if for no other reason than he currently had what amounted to good intentions, and he fully believed that Dumbledore, somehow--though Merlin knows how-- would be able to sense that and act accordingly. Harry, on the other hand, had no such assurances, but he also held much less of a choice on whether or not he had to deal with Tom.

As they entered the office--nice obsession with shiny things Dumbledore has-- they were met with twinkling periwinkle eyes. The first thought Tom had was that Albus Dumbledore looked entirely too satisfied with something. As if he was resisting the urge to grin broadly and say 'I told you so' in the most juvenile tone possible. Tom knew from experience that this expression didn't bode very well. A glance showed that Harry was watching both of them suspiciously. Of course the old man would be unfazed, it's practically a law of physics.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered as he gestured for the boys to sit down.

Tom sat in the chair in front of the desk that was nearest the door, while Harry took the one opposite him. Both angled towards the desk; their knees were nearly touching as Harry slouched, but Tom didn't bother to move. He noticed that Harry was, like himself, not wearing a robe, but Muggle clothing instead. The clothing didn't exactly hang off of Harry, but it was fairly wrong sized, as if someone had guessed he would be a bit larger than he was. That reminded Tom that when he had the opportunity he really needed to pick up robes that fit him better, as Lucius had incorrectly guessed his size in robes while he was unconscious.

He considered this as he glanced at the tin of lemon drops and grabbed one, popping it in his mouth. He was pleasantly surprised to notice the subtle calming charm placed on(or 'in'?) the sweet. Tom took another one and handed it to Harry, who accepted it warily.

Probably thinks I'm going to poison him, he snickered silently. Probably would have in other situations.

"They're good. Try one," Tom suggested.

After a moment Harry put the sweet in his mouth. Almost immediately his shoulders shrugged out the tension he had been holding in his body and he nodded.

"They are good."

Dumbledore smiled benignly in Tom's direction, as if acknowledging what Tom had done and, oddly, approving it. It was indeed very odd and out-of-place to experience Albus Dumbledore actually approving one of his actions. The most he had ever gotten before was a grudging sort of respect for skill. Of course, Tom hadn't done it for approval. Really, he didn't know why he had done it, except that maybe he was just in a good mood due to that calming charm and wanted to spread the sedatives, knowing that the following conversation would be much easier if Harry wasn't emotionally charged. Then Tom wondered vaguely when he had decided to share his knowledge of the connection with the Headmaster and if the idea was placed in his head by his connection with Harry or from his own mind.

"How are you boys today? Getting along well?"

Harry frowned again, sinking farther back in the chair and glaring balefully at the floor, looking for all the world like a pouting child. Tom snickered again, quietly.

"I'm fine, sir. Quite well actually."

"Having any problems adjusting?"

He shook his head. No, he wasn't really having any problems adjusting, though maybe a few minor set-backs.

"That's good to hear. I'm nearly finished with the necessary paper-work for your 'transfer'; it should be sorted within the next few days. And Harry? How are you?"

Harry continued to silently glare for a moment before shrugging and mumbling, "All right."

Tom frowned, waiting for Harry to elaborate or Dumbledore to comment, tapping his fingers against his thigh with his right hand and tracing an S, over and over, on the left chair arm. When neither wizard did anything he sighed.

"As much fun as this staring contest of attempted telepathy is, we do have things to discuss. Such as how, exactly, Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettrigrew are to be caught casting Unforgivables," Tom commented, causing Harry to turn and glare in his direction. Tom smiled. "Are you this unstable all the time, or is it my presence that's aggravating the stability of your moods?"

Harry sneered in response. "Your existence 'aggravates' my stability."

Right, short-sighted fucking child.

"Well, that's unfortunate, because unless Professor Dumbledore can reverse a curse scar that was bound fourteen years ago, we're stuck with each other," he snapped. "Do you understand that? We're magically connected, and it's quite irreversible to my knowledge. I've decided to make the best of it and I suggest you do the same, before we kill each other or, better yet, others."

Harry went red then, shaking his head at Dumbledore and then Tom. "What are you talking about? What did you do?"

What did I do? Idiot.

"I did *nothing*. Voldemort, however, attempted to kill you with the Killing Curse a little under fourteen years ago. You survived, nearly killing him. Therefore, two people were hit with the Killing Curse that night, and both lived, binding them together. If I could stop it I would, but as there's no precedent for this any attempts to cure us would most likely do more harm than good."

"There has to be a way to fix it! Dumbledore will find one, or Hermione, or something!" Harry was distraught now, up and out of his chair, yelling. Tom had the insane urge to comfort him.

"I am sorry, Harry, but I fear that young Mr. Riddle is correct. If the connection is already formed from both sides, there is nothing to be done aside from making an attempt to understand it," Dumbledore said quietly. He was looking at Harry with such concern that it was obvious to Tom that the old man did actually feel something grandfatherly for the boy. Not that Tom had any delusions that that would stop, or had stopped, Dumbledore from using Harry in his mission of light. The professor was pragmatic, especially for a Gryffindor.

Harry dropped back down into the chair with a plop and went pale. "But..." His hands were shaking against the arm-rests and his face twisted in a desperate sort of plea for a moment before it went blank again, so expressive and so reserved, like a once wounded animal who knew better than to draw attention to itself by crying out. He wondered if Voldemort was the one who wounded Harry so badly or if someone else had contributed. The Muggles perhaps? They didn't break him, though; he hadn't shattered from whatever pressures he had been under. Not unlike breaks in strong glass, which were just shallow wounds and broken memories. The memories of Voldemort hadn't broken him. Yet his own existence as Tom seemed to be cracking the glass and exposing the flaws rapidly. Tom himself probably would have been more satisfied with the growing panic in Harry's voice and mood if he didn't actually have to experience it first hand. However, now that he had opened the connection-- and apparently he had opened it fully, for this was worse than whatever Harry had been encountering before his arrival if his reaction was any judge-- he hadn't the slightest idea how to close it again. Yes, shock and despair was definitely more fun when one was merely watching it happen. Tom sighed.

"I assure you, Harry, I am no more happy with the situation than you are, nor more responsible. Still, however put out you might feel about this, at the very least I'm not quite so unstable..." Tom knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that this was an incredibly stupid thing to say to Harry, and he trailed off instead of continuing the sentence.

Harry briefly looked as if Tom had slapped him before his face went blank and his eyes changed to hostile and cold. "So says the homicidal maniac. I'm not exactly the authority on unstable behaviour, now am I, Tom?"

"I resent that. Homicidal, yes. Insane, I doubt." Tom shook his head. "My behaviour isn't because I'm mad, at least not crazy-mad, and if you think it is then you've obviously bought into the delusions of the light side, just to keep the nightmares at bay. How annoying."

"Well, it's really the homicidal that's completely fucked up my life now, isn't it? If you were just insane we'd all be better off." Harry glared at him for a moment. "That's the issue; your actions *aren't* insane, as you said, they're just evil."

"Evil or wrong? I'd watch how you classify each, if I were you. Then again, if I were you, instead of just a part of you, this wouldn't be an issue."

The anger flared again, like an instinctive reaction, but the boy looked as calm as ever. Maybe he does have the self-control I thought he had. Tom considered the possibility; that would certainly make things more interesting-- more equal. The boy wanted to kill him now, and he just sat there, looking mildly annoyed. The outburst last night was just that: an outburst, and not a precedent. Here he was thinking that Dumbledore was the major adversary and the boy a minor irritation, and it might just be the opposite.

"I'm nothing like you, Tom. It's about choices, not just circumstances. You made the wrong ones and it made you evil."

"And the 'right' ones will make you good, make you their little golden boy, their perfection...make them love you?" Tom shook his head, grinning mockingly. "They don't love you, they love their image of you, their Boy-Who-Lived. But use it, if you can; take what little was given to you and make more of it. If your idea of more is serving the people then I have to say I find that just sad, but what makes you happy is best, right?" He smirked. "Will you be happy once I'm dead, once you're the hero again? I imagine you've had years of being the hero, what with that feat you managed as a child, yet here you are looking angry and miserable, and I don't think it's all because of me."

Dumbledore sat at his desk, calmly watching the two boys as Harry turned to him and replied, in a low, cold voice, "You're so happy then? You lost to a child-- to me. You fucking lost to a little infant and love. Couldn't defend against that, could you-- because you can't even understand it? You're nothing but darkness and pain, and I don't want to ever be like you."

Tom resisted the urge to take a deep breath, and decided that now was the time to bargain with the childhood...and hope he was right about it. "One happy memory, one single truly happy memory from the time before you came to Hogwarts...do you have one?"

Harry paled from the third time since the beginning of the conversation, shaking his head as if the conversation had completely changed tactics instead of just branching out. A little slow, isn't he? Tom sneered mentally.

"I..."

Dumbledore looked especially interested now, Tom noted vaguely, still watching Harry.

"If it's about choices, Harry, then what about the choices made for you? Don't those have an effect? Don't those ten years speak through you? Or are you content to ignore the pain and the darkness and hold on the thought that it's only a few more summers?"

"How...?"

"How did I know? Why, I've been where you are, in a way. I understand you better than this concept of Voldemort, you realize." Tom knew he *didn't* realize, of course. "You're what I am, he's just what I could have been." Tom shrugged, dropping his defensive posture and relaxing back into the seat as Harry half-nodded. The boy was calm again and Tom had won this round.

"So, we're connected?" Harry asked finally.

Tom nearly laughed. Took him bloody long enough. "Yes."

"But...how? You were him, you were, but if you're not..." Harry's brow furrowed and he frowned before continuing to speak slowly and softly. "If...if you're *not* Voldemort, which is...I don't know, then why are we connected? Wouldn't you have to still be him for you and I to be connected like this?"

The boy was so very confused, Tom thought, ignoring the twinge of sympathy, which wasn't so surprising as his world had been changed--had been completely rearranged on him--in a matter of days. He was confused and scared and not angry anymore. Tom would have preferred the anger; at least he didn't feel bad about that. Almost as if he was guilty, him! Merlin, how he wished he could close this connection.

"It bound our magic, Harry, not our bodies. This will be with both of us until we die...at the very least. It's even possible if one of us dies the other will follow him into death. Isn't that a pretty thought." He laughed. "Then you really would be a martyr! I don't suppose you knew of this possible clause, Professor?"

Dumbledore didn't so much shake his head and just looked irritatingly innocent, but that was conformation enough for Tom--Dumbledore *had* known.

"I wonder if I did. I did try to kill you more than once..." He frowned. He couldn't even picture trying to kill this boy at the moment; he didn't have a reason to and killing someone for no reason was just...daft. So, he would not kill or hurt Harry, but Voldemort had or had tried. "Well, not I, but my other self. Maybe Voldemort really *was* insane. Either that, or he did managed a form of immortality... The latter, I would think. Well, then good; it's possible even without the Philosopher's Stone."

Harry commented suddenly, "The philosopher's stone doesn't exist anymore, anyway."

"Yes, yes, I know. It's in one of the books I read. It was destroyed after you recovered it from the Mirror of Erised your first year. The details were vague and inconsistent but I was able to gather that much."

Dumbledore and Harry both nodded, but neither offered up any more information.

"There's books about me," Harry muttered, sighing. "Are they separated by 'saviour' versus 'next Dark Lord'?

Tom ignored the question in the last statement and replied to the implication. "You mean you've never looked at them?"

Harry looked surprised. "Why would I?"

Why would he? Tom shook his head. Alright, obviously a personality difference.

"Curiosity?" he suggested.

The other boy shrugged. "I'm not really interested in the opinions that people who don't know me have of me." Harry shook his head. "Mostly, it's just annoying. I don't look for things that annoy me."

Tom resisted the urge to comment on how Gryffindor that was, knowing that Harry would take it as a compliment, and decided that attempting to explain why knowing other people's views of oneself was useful would only be ignored at this point. Either way, he had more important issues to take care of, and they did not include Harry's social obliviousness.

"The issue is that, regardless of our differences in temperament, sanity, and alliances, not only are we stuck together but we're actually dangerous to each other and those around us. If things continue as they are, and you can't get your emotional arcs under control, then what happens if we both get upset at the same time? Accidental magic is caused by extremes, both by emotion or to do with reaction. If we don't reach a compromise I'd expect things to start exploding--or just serious pain for one or both of us--in the near future. I don't care what your issues are right now, Harry, except as far as they affect me. Which means that if you can't deal by yourself, I am going to do everything I can to help," he made a face at that, "you, whether you want me to or not."

"Your desire to help Mr. Potter is entirely selfish then, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, smiling calmly.

*Goddamnit*, what was Dumbledore expecting?

Tom smiled back politely. "If it isn't, so what? Once this is resolved it will be, whether or not it is currently."

Harry looked confused. "Why do you want to help?"

Wasn't he listening? Stupid, stupid boy. Tom took a deep breath.

"I told you. You're emotions are attempting to supercede mine. I. Don't. Like. It. Once you get control of your bloody emotions, it won't be a problem for me. To do so, you're going to have to deal with whatever is causing this animosity, which I seem to be the target of. Currently, it is *very* tempting to do some sort of spell on you to stop it. I'm certain if I thought on it I could remember something from what I've read. Mind you, it would be completely detrimental to you, but frankly, I want to stop it before I care if it hurts you, or better, before you care if I hurt you in more than just a survivalist manner." In the back of his mind Tom noticed he was shaking. "I will not become attached to a stupid, childish little golden boy because of a damn botched spell. If you're not a stupid, childish little golden boy I don't really want to know that, and I certainly don't want to know that because I can feel it. Can you feel how I feel right now, Harry? Is it fun?"

Harry was wincing actually, he saw, pressing against the back of the seat he was sitting in with the palm of his hand rubbing against his forehead over the scar.

Tom turned to Dumbledore, continuing his low-spoken rant. "My intentions may not be selfish, but this sudden altruism might just be the thing that keeps me from killing him. Not for forever though; eventually either his or my anger is going to boil over, and then one, or both, of us is going to be very dangerous. Any suggestions on how to prevent that, or is this almost all-knowing act just pretend?"

It was then that one of the annoying little, tinkling, silver contraptions of Dumbledore's flew apart, a piece of it nearly hitting the phoenix in the corner upside the head. The bird squawked indignantly. Tom glared at it, then looked at Harry, who was staring back angrily.

Wonderful! Just what he needed today. They really needed to deal with this before anything else blew up...or worse.