A/n: Thank you to those of you who took the time to review. I don’t get a chance to reply, but just know, I do read them and take comfort in the fact you enjoy the story. So, thanks. :)

Chapter Eight

His whole body was sore and his raw magic raised the hairs of his arms. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. But he had no time to rest because Riddle was in the next room, waiting for his consent.

But his consent about what, exactly?

Harry was sure Riddle wanted his agreement in accepting the man’s training. And as much as he’d like to deny it, the idea of taming his…curse sounded appealing. If he wanted to stay in the wizarding world, he would have to get his Magus under control. Not half arse like he had been attempting during Hogwarts.

Of course, there was another option, an option that didn’t involve Riddle’s presence.

Running.

Breathing deeply, Harry shut his eyes, his mind racing. If he didn’t accept Riddle’s help, he would have to be on the run from the Ministry. No matter what world he lived in. They would hunt him down, more likely the Unspeakables. Even if he lived in the Muggle world, under disguise, there was a chance they would catch him. But if Harry accepted Riddle’s help in training him, he would be comfortable with his powers and be able to defend himself if the Ministry came hunting him.

But he still didn’t trust Riddle at all. The man… was selfish and arrogant. Riddle even admitted he would train Harry for his own gain.

However… there was yet another option. Take Riddle’s offer and get his magic under control and once that happened, he would leave. By then, he wouldn’t go into an uncontrolled rage when he tried to defend himself. And once he left Riddle, Harry would be enjoying his own life, not a life pulled by Riddle and his influence.

But what about revenge?

Harry admitted that he did want revenge on those who killed his parents and Sirius. But he didn’t know the true story.

And what about Dumbledore? The Headmaster, surely, didn’t know about his parents and Sirius Black. Harry trusted Dumbledore. He was almost like his grandfather. And to hear, from Riddle, that Dumbledore knew of such experiments from the Ministry would be a hard blow. A blow he couldn’t possibly believe would happen. Dumbledore was kind and logical. He wouldn’t stand for such experiments being done.

Right?

But if Riddle’s story was somehow true, even after Harry didn’t get a glimpse at the ‘lab’, then what did that mean? Would he willingly go into battle with Riddle? Would he peel his enemies’ skin apart like he had done today with lightning?

No.

He would be under control. And if he was shown proof of the Ministry’s involvement with wrongful deaths and experiments, then he would fight. But…

What was Riddle’s goal?

Harry was aware of the man’s presence even before he opened his eyes. Riddle was like a light and Harry, unfortunately, was the moth. Riddle’s magic was extremely enthralling, addicting almost. There was a sense of icy danger around the man as well. Something that warned Harry not to get too close to Riddle or even think of attacking him. It was kind of like observing something from afar, something you always wanted to get close to and touch.

Naturally, Harry dismissed both warnings. He was more powerful than the man. Briefly, he wondered what his aura was like to Riddle.

“I can do anything.” Harry whispered, keeping his eyes closed. “If I wanted to, I’m sure I could destroy the world.” The thought frightened him, even keeping him up late at night. Surely he couldn’t destroy the world, right? He wasn’t certain of the limits of his Magus. In fact, that little bit of magic today even wore him out. “So what makes you think you can train me efficiently?”

He opened his eyes finally, startled to see the man standing right over him. Riddle hadn’t made a sound. His movements were always silent and graceful, almost making Harry envious.

“Oh Harry,” Riddle purred seductively. It was rare the man called him by his given name, especially in such a manner. But it was more of a dangerous purr than a seductive one. “You have no idea of my own power. Granted, you are more powerful than me, but I’m the only one on this world that can assist your magic to be in control.”

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood straight at that promise. He wondered just how powerful the man was. “As much as I’d like to discuss things with you, Mr. Potter, we must get going.” Riddle waved his wand in the air and a few things went flying into boxes and suitcases.

“Where are we going?” Harry gathered enough strength to sit up. Lying underneath him, his Invisibility cloak sat. Relief washed over him. It was his prized connection with his father.

“Considering the question you have just asked, I assume you agreed to my teachings.” The man didn’t wait to hear a response. “Our first destination is the Malfoy manor,” Riddle replied back nonchalantly.

Harry felt something in his chest spark in irritation. “Then this is where we part ways. Because I’m not going there.”

Riddle’s boxes and suitcases shrunk and he placed them in one briefcase, slamming it shut before looking at Harry. “The Potters have never liked the Malfoys. Both families are from a long line of Pure-bloods. Natural enemies, of course. But you are on the same side as Lucius and Draco now, Mr. Potter. They will do you no harm.”

“I don’t care,” Harry snapped childishly. “I’m not going there. I hate them.”

Riddle raised his eyebrows, not looking very impressed with his attitude. “Then where do you purpose we go, Mr. Potter? We need a place to gather our bearings and consider our next course of action. The Malfoy manor offers us excellent protection.” It seemed logical, but Harry wouldn’t admit that.

He sat there for a moment, his mind racing. “The Potters have a secret manor.” More like a small house, but he wouldn’t mention it. He then realized what he was saying and shut his mouth. Why would he tell Riddle of his secret family house? “Never mind, Malfoys it is.” He replied gruffly, standing up.

Grinning, Riddle reached out an arm and grabbed Harry around his waist, pulling him close. Harry’s cheeks grew red at their closeness. “Hold on tight, then.” Riddle muttered darkly, one arm clutching Harry, the other clutching his suitcase.

In a whirl wind, they disappeared from the living room and to outside, standing before a wrought-iron gate. In Riddle’s arms, Harry looked about, studying the tall and sturdy gate. Tall hedges blocked off any glimpse to the front yard of the Malfoy manor. The manor itself peeked above the tall hedges, looking just as Harry predicted… rich.

“Come,” Riddle took Harry’s hand and charged at the closed gate. Before Harry could exclaim loudly they would crash, he was cut off as they transported through the closed gate as if smoke. Blinking, Harry tried to gather his bearings before Riddle could see his frightful expression. “The Malfoy’s only allow a selected few to pass through so easily. All other uninvited guests must wait for approval before entering.”

Riddle raised their clasped hands in the air. “Because I am approved, my guest, by physical contact, will be as well.”

Harry grunted, tearing his hand away from Riddle and wiping it on his robes. The ex professor didn’t spare Harry a glance as he led the way around the elegant fountain and up the marble stair case. “What the bloody hell!” Harry howled, watching as a white…peacock…ran quickly in a maze of gardens. “What the hell?” He asked again, unable to believe there was an albino peacock here.

“Refrain from using such coarse language, Mr. Potter,” the man hadn’t even spared a second glance at the albino peacock. “Your eloquence will, of course, be practiced on.”

“What does that mean?” Harry snipped. His attention landed on the large black door to the manor. Everything here was so… haughty and severe. It didn’t feel like home. Not like his home he shared with Sirius Black. The man was a pig, yet he made it homey.

He shook his head, trying to force out the memories of his godfather. The man had been his life after his parents were murdered. “My Lord,” Lucius greeted in surprise as soon as he opened the door.

“My Lord?” Harry quipped, looking at Riddle in disdain. “I hope you don’t expect me to call you that.”

The look the man gave him made Harry shut up. Lucius Malfoy was staring at Harry, expressionless. It was almost if the blonde were trying to cover up his real emotions behind a stoic mask. “I should warn you the Ministry was here,” Lucius Malfoy began quietly, opening the door wider for them to enter. As predicted, the inside of the house was just as overdone as the yard. Marble and diamond chandeliers. Sickening.

As soon as Harry entered the foyer, he spotted Draco Malfoy standing near the stairs. He sneered. Draco sneered. Before Harry could come up with a snide comment, Riddle questioned Lucius, successfully cutting Harry off. “And? What did they want?” Lucius gave a pointed look at Harry. “Harry has enough right to be here, Lucius. Continue.”

“They suspect you, My Lord. Apparently Dumbledore has been adding his own opinion on you to the matter. And with your presence accompanying me to the Unspeakable level today, they believed you were Potter’s hooded companion. They suspected me as well, but I persuaded them otherwise. I attempted to get you on their good graces as well… but it appears as if they are set on Dumbledore’s own beliefs.” Harry assessed the situation. Riddle didn’t look worried at all. In fact, the man looked amused.

“They have no evidence, once so ever.” The man’s dark eyes turned to Harry, paralyzing him. “Mr. Potter, however, will be impossible to clear from the Ministry.”

“I think it wouldn’t be too difficult. The boy just stumbled upon a room, did he not? They will have no way to publicize his arrest, My Lord. If they did, they would have to come up with a creative way why he is wanted. And the Ministry is not creative.”

No. Harry wished that were it. He wished he had only stumbled upon an empty room; instead, he was wanted for murder. How many Unspeakables had he killed with his magic? One too many.

“I’m afraid not,” Riddle drawled, turning back to Lucius. “Their base has moved, Lucius.” Surprisingly, the man changed the subject. “Their lab, it’s gone. I may have to get in contact with our spy and question why he hasn’t told me of their base change.” Riddle breathed deeply, his fingers twitching. Harry was sure the man would do more than just question.

“Will you be staying here, My Lord?” Lucius murmured softly. His grey eyes shot to Harry again, assessing him.

“Eventually,” Riddle answered. Harry frowned; he had thought they were going to stay with the Malfoys. Not that he was complaining. Riddle must have thought of another safe house. “But in the mean time, I will be in hiding with Mr. Potter. In my absence, I want you to keep your eyes open. We will be in contact, most likely. But I cannot risk our presence here when the Ministry already has their eye on you.”

Riddle didn’t give Lucius time to respond. With a flourish of his robes he came striding over to Harry and took him by the wrist. “Where are we going?” Harry questioned, his hand being held securely by Riddle’s thin fingers.

“Remember that safe house you told me about, just briefly? The Potter manor?” Harry’s mind took on a vague picture of his house and before he knew it, he was disapparating with Riddle.

Looking around, he almost fainted when he was met with the Potter manor. “I… I haven’t been here for ages,” he stuttered out. “How did you do that? For that matter, why did you do that?” He didn’t want Riddle here, especially when he hadn’t been here since his parents were alive. Merlin, it was hard to look at.

“You pictured it in your mind and I side-apparated with you. Simple, really,” Riddle remarked offhandedly as if this issue wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was. To Harry, at least. This small manor was their, James, Lily, and Harry’s, summer home. Whenever they had the need to get away, they would always come here on the shore of a small lake. No one was around. It had been just theirs…

Harry remained stiff, his wrist still in Riddle’s hold. The man sighed. “It will only be you and I, Harry. I will tell no one of your family’s safe house. Besides…” Riddle trailed off, looking around the deserted valleys and beach. “This will be a decent spot to train your magic. We can afford mishaps here.”

Harry hesitated, staring at the front gate. It was a simple wooden picket fence. “Alright,” he whispered, clutching his Invisibility cloak in his free hand. “But I swear, if you destroy one thing, Riddle, I’ll have your head.”

Without waiting for a response, he ripped his hand from the man’s and led the way toward the very same house he buried his memories at.

--CBS--

The boy was oddly sentimental about the whole thing. Potter’s green eyes dimmed, almost swirling black. Tom had a hunch the boy hadn’t seen the house since his parents had died.

As they approached the manor, Tom had to admit that it appeared homey, comfortable. The Malfoy manor was nothing like this, nor was his manor. The Potter manor almost appeared like a cottage with vines growing on the sides of the house and shutters on either side of the windows.

As Potter opened the door, Tom could feel the wards bend and enclose around the boy, almost if they were welcoming him home. “Harry Potter,” the boy spoke up shakily. “Willingly invites Tom Riddle to enter and make himself at home.”

The wards’ magic then tickled him, becoming familiar with his magical signature. While Potter greeted a well groomed House Elf, Tom glanced around, taking notice of the many portraits surrounding him. The majority of them were of Potter’s ancestors. They looked down their nose at him, frowning in distaste. Tom withheld a smirk. Potters. They were strict Pure-bloods until James Potter came around. By the time James married Lily, all ties to the Potter name were dead. No one could voice their disagreement of James marrying a mudblood.

And now Harry was a Half-blood. One of the first Potters not to be completely pure.

Tom turned his back on the muttering portraits. He was the heir of Slytherin and dirty blooded. They would no doubt be watching him during his stay. Somehow, portraits had the power to know each individual’s bloodline that walked through their territory.

Studying the petite form of Potter, Tom was brought back to the reason why he refused to stay with Lucius. He wanted to grow the trust between Potter and himself before he thrust Potter out in his world, near his followers. He wanted to breed Potter as an adult with cunning, rather than risk the chance that his followers may emotionally and mentally chip an already bruised boy. Potter needed… some shaping up before they escaped hiding.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” his Gem straightened up from the whispering House Elf. “Sadly, only my old bedroom and the Master suite are up to standards for the living.” The boy didn’t look at all pleased by the news. But he didn’t say anything on the matter.

The boy led him up a staircase, along the eyes of Potter ancestors. “Ignore them if they insult you.” The boy indicated toward the portraits. “They always used to insult my mother behind her back. Mine as well.”

“I think I am prepared for anything they throw at me,” Tom replied, amused. After all, he had his whole upbringing to get used to verbal insults. A bloody portrait wouldn’t make him crumble. “When did the messy hair begin?” He asked, curious. The portraits downstairs had tamed black hair, nothing like Harry and James’.

Harry turned to give him a look over his shoulder. Although the boy turned back quickly, Tom spotted the grin the stretched across Potter’s lips. “Upstairs,” he murmured. “Downstairs is the older ancestors. The messy hair was actually married into our family by a woman. Here.” As soon as they hit the landing, Harry pointed toward a regal looking woman with a hat upon her head. She stood next to a tamed haired man. “Charlus Potter married Elizabeth Cynk. And so, as you can obviously see, Elizabeth passed on her genes to the next generations of Potters.”

Tom observed in delight as the rest of the portraits revealed messy haired Potters. “They say my father never had messy hair,” Harry continued. “At least, Sirius always told me James tried to mess it up himself. I, on the other hand, try in vain to tame it. It never works.”

The boy was opening up to him, albeit slowly. Even if it was a mundane topic, such as hair and ancestors, Tom knew this was a… start. He was reassured that coming here, in Potter’s territory, would win the boy’s trust more easily than at the Malfoy manor.

“I would like to give you my memories, Mr. Potter.” They stopped before a closed door that Tom assumed was the master suite. “Tomorrow, we will start your training. Sharing my memories of the night I stumbled across the Unspeakable laboratory will be our first step.” His eyes raked the boy’s frame. “In the mean time, get a good nights rest.” Potter still looked exhausted.

Tom would need to catch up on his reading on the subject of Magi. Merlin had been the last recorded Magus and he had a trusted friend write a few tomes on the subject. Tom needed to know of their limits, their weakness; anything he could learn would be of benefit. Already, Harry admitted it was easier on his magical core to cast magic with his wand. Like Merlin, he had a staff to channel his magic through; Harry would need his wand as a conductor or he would tire easily.

“Good night,” Harry gave a sharp nod, disappearing further down the corridor.

Tom leaned against the doorframe, watching through hooded eyes which room the boy disappeared in. Just in case…

Once Potter disappeared into the room three doors down, Tom entered the Potter suite.

James and Lily had been his students once before. Seeing them, on the walls and on the nightstand was like looking back twenty years. The two were a handsome couple and created an incredibly beautiful child.

He set his suitcase down, staring at the small picture of Harry. The boy must have been around seven. Those green eyes… they were so vivid and full of life. Tom imagined they had begun to dull as soon as the boy started to realize he held an abnormally powerful gift. To be able to cast spells without having to know the pronunciation or doing things that he had no prior knowledge of. Magi weren’t known to be very smart in literature. To them, words blurred together, not making any sense.

Tom knew that was the reason Harry had trouble in school. The boy couldn’t memorize the spells or what they did; he couldn’t remember the correct steps in a potion. The only way the boy could have survived in school was if he used his power to balance things out. But he hadn’t. The boy had been frightened of his gift.

He sighed, giving one last long glance at the small Harry. Tom would have his work cut out for him. Just as the portrait of Salazar predicted, it wasn’t going to be easy, but the end result of such power would be worth it. Tom would have a powerful ally. And with that, he would be able to control his wizarding world.

Stooping low, he unlatched his suitcase and unshrunk his most valued possessions. He was sure his manor had been raided already by the Ministry. They wouldn’t have found anything worth accusing him of. Tom smirked, pulling out the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. The man’s green eyes flashed at him. “A little warning would be valued next time, Tom.”

“There wouldn’t have been anytime.” He eyed the walls of the Potter suite.

Would it be an insult to hang the memory of Salazar Slytherin upon the walls of generations and generations of Gryffindors?

Yes.

He shrugged, doing it anyway.

“We are at the Potter manor,” he informed the portrait. Sadly, he stumbled across Salazar’s portrait when he was almost seventeen. By then, he had created two Horcruxes. When he gained possession Salazar, he all but worshipped the man. He grew close to the portrait, seeing Salazar as a mentor and someone who guided him. When Tom confessed he made two Horcruxes and planned to make seven, Salazar had all but ignored him.

It wasn’t until he saw the flaws of his ways that the man began to speak to him once again. But the damage was done. He would be forever immortal unless his two Horcruxes were destroyed.

Tom could admit that Salazar was a small weakness on his part. The man infuriated him yet assisted him with his ideals. If any one were to know-

“When will I see the Magus? What’s his name… Harry?”

Tom internally blanched, sneering. “You won’t see him.” The green eyes narrowed on him. “You won’t.” Tom snapped, irritated. The portrait… why didn’t he just burn the damned thing when he had a chance?

--CBS--

Harry walked down the stairs after a horrible night sleep. All he had done was stare at the ceiling, remembering the memories that wouldn’t leave him alone. He had fond memories of this house and the occupants within it. Merlin, he missed his parents and Sirius.

As he walked into the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks, staring at Riddle. The man was at home, eating the breakfast Tippy had made. Riddle, as usual, had his arrogant poise and sickening charm that made all the female students at Hogwarts drool over.

Little did they know he was a snarky bastard.

Chewing his pancake, Riddle stared right back at Harry. “You look… decent.” His dark eyes went up to Harry’s hair. “I see the Potter hair is at its worse in the morning.”

“Shove it, Riddle,” Harry growled, sitting down none too gracefully on the chair. Riddle gave him a disgusted look as he dug into his eggs.

“I have the memories here,” Riddle thrust a large bowl-like basin toward him. “It’s a Pensive, it holds memories. Whenever your face is free of egg residue, you may touch your head to the silver memory.” Harry’s fork stopped near his open mouth as he realized what Riddle had done. Despite his dislike for the man, he understood what Riddle sacrificed to allow Harry into his memories.

Wiping his face with a napkin, Harry leaned toward the basin. The silvery liquid showed ghostly images before they dissolved away again. Throwing one last look at Riddle, Harry plunged his head inside. His body felt as if it were falling into a black abyss before he landed heavily on solid ground. It hadn’t hurt; it was just the sudden impact that surprised him.

As he got up on his hands and knees, he stared around his surroundings. It was the Unspeakable level where he had been a yesterday. His pulse raced as he heard footsteps approach from behind him. Whirling around, his heart in his throat, he took a breath of relieved air as he saw Riddle.

He was a fool. Of course no one would see him. This was a memory.

Harry watched as Riddle sauntered down the Unspeakable corridor as if he were the most important man in the wizarding world. His face, which was just as young and unblemished as it was presently, was set back into a mask of indifference. Riddle’s thin and tall frame was draped in Ministry robes and his tapered fingers clutched a black folder.

Ah, yes, Harry remembered Riddle telling him he had worked at the Ministry before teaching. Riddle had been the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And according to Riddle, tonight was the night he discovered the Unspeakable’s lab.

The corridors were dim and Harry remembered from Riddle’s story that it had been at night, after most workers had gone home.

Turning his eyes back on Riddle, Harry slowly jogged after the man to keep up. Once they approached the fifth door, the man opened it without knocking. Inside, there was no Unspeakable with a white cloak, not like what Harry had stumbled across. “Hello?” Riddle called out, his voice bored.

The man’s dark eyes slithered across the room, looking for any signs of humanity. When Riddle saw no one around, he set the black folder on the Unspeakable desk and approached the back door. Harry followed, his face almost pressed into the man’s robes. Yesterday, there hadn’t been anything inside the room, but now, he knew he would be seeing something disturbing. For a moment, he wondered if he really wanted to see, to finally be shown proof.

Yes, he did.

Riddle opened the door, revealing a room with a horrible stench and suffering moans. Harry felt bile rise in his throat. He didn’t get to see the whole room, but only a small section was good enough. There were rooms upon rooms inside the lab. And there were also stainless steel tables next to counters of medical equipment and chemicals… and needles and vials… knives and bloodied clothes.

But the worse thing about the room was seeing the cages. There were only two in his line of vision. The first cage held a human. His ribs were showing and his collarbone was popping out of his shoulders. His body was so thin, completely ruined. He had scars across his body, appearing like medical abrasions and stitches. The man within the cage looked up when the door opened. Instead of crying for help, the man…or woman looked back down, defeated.

Harry remembered Riddle telling him the Unspeakables experimented on wizards who practiced Dark Arts.

And Dark creatures…

Which happened to be the second cage. Harry barely got to recognize it as a werewolf before Riddle abruptly closed the door.

Harry stood there, shell shocked as he watched Riddle’s usually handsomely composed face- crumble. The man placed a hand over his mouth, holding in the bile Harry knew would threaten to come up. He knew because the vomit was sitting in his own throat, a solid burn and toxic taste in his mouth.

His body was trembling when he thought of the rooms inside the laboratory and how many wizards and Dark creatures were inside. He shook more violently when he wondered just what the Unspeakables experimented with and how much hell those men and creatures suffered through.

Footsteps sounded outside the door and Harry numbly watched Riddle compose himself, looking as if he hadn’t seen something so devastating.

As soon as the door opened, Riddle touched the black file folder on the Unspeakable’s desk. The Unspeakable, dressed in white robes, froze when he saw Riddle inside his office. “Who are you?” The man asked, guardedly.

“Excuse me?” Riddle whispered, his eyes narrowing. “I’m Tom Riddle, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” His voice dripped with arrogance and disgust. “You should know that, yes?”

The Unspeakable seemed to relax when he believed Riddle hadn’t seen what was on the other side of the door. But Riddle was just a decent actor. “Of course, I apologize Mr. Riddle. What did you come by for?”

Riddle scoffed, sneering. “You’ll just have to do what you do best, won’t you? Sit at your desk and find out.” He motioned toward the folder of papers. “Good day.” He spoke crisply, brushing conceitedly passed the Unspeakable.

And Harry was tugged from the memory.

He found himself bowed in front of the Pensive, staring blankly at the silver memories. He was more than aware of Riddle sitting across from him.

“You said the Unspeakables experiment on them,” Harry whispered softly, feeling as if his whole life had altered. He felt as if he had altered. “On only Dark creatures and wizards.”

“Wizards who have cast excessive amounts of Dark magic, yes. Doubtless, the magic they cast never did anyone much harm; they were just hunted down by the Unspeakables for using the Dark Arts. And the Ministry gives them the go ahead.” Harry swallowed heavily, closing his eyes against the memory. “You see, Mr. Potter, we live in a world where wizards automatically deem the Dark Arts as dangerous and unethical. They, the Ministry and other wizards, will not tolerate Dark magic to be a threat to their Light magic. To them, the two magics can’t coexist together. So, the Unspeakables abduct Dark wizards slowly and timely so the rest of the world isn’t suspicious of the kidnappings.”

Harry clenched his jaw.

“And Dark creatures,” Harry pointed out, remembering Remus Lupin. “You said… you said my parents went down to the labs because they believed Remus Lupin had been taken by the Unspeakables. That’s why they were killed; they stumbled across what you did.”

“And they were murdered.”

Harry opened his eyes, staring at Riddle. He felt something harden within him. “I will do, Riddle, whatever it takes to help bring down the Ministry’s corruption.”

Riddle leaned back in his chair, his eyes alight. A small smirk curled his lips as he assessed Harry.

And Harry found himself returning the smirk.

“But there are a few conditions…”