— CHAPTER FIVE —

"Good morning, Tom!"

Voldemort jerked upright in bed, wand in hand. Gellert grinned at him and threw open the curtains, letting in the bright sunlight of noon. Voldemort squinted and muttered darkly, "Is that absolutely necessary?"

Gellert paused as if to think about it, "Well, I'm still a little bitter about you leaving me to rot in Nurmengard, so… yes. Did you not sleep well?"

Gellert waved a hand and banished all of the curtains - including those around Voldemort's bed. Voldemort glared at him and hissed lowly under his breath. Gellert nodded in false sympathy, "Ah, nightmares again? You look dreadful, really. How much sleep did you get? One, maybe two hours? Poor monster, we'll set you right soon."

"How did you know I have finished collecting my Horcruxes?"

Voldemort rose from bed, ignoring how Gellert's keen violet eyes appraised his naked form critically. He used his magic to dress himself immediately. Gellert chuckled and said, "Oh don't worry about that."

Gellert was walking around the room as if searching for something. His strange eyes flicked toward Voldemort and he questioned, "I assume you must have them with you but where?"

Voldemort pointed at the ebony chest in the middle of his room. He winced when Gellert carelessly kicked it open. He asked quickly, "What exactly are you doing?"

"We're going to summon the rest of you and put you back together!" Gellert made a few vague hand-gestures, like throwing a ball and kneading dough.

"Now?" Voldemort demanded incredulously. He cast a scornful, narrow-eyed look at the bright beautiful day outside.

Gellert shrugged, "You'll be in so much pain soon that you won't be able to tell day from night. You won't be worried about the ambiance then."

Those words made Voldemort pause and stare at the other dark lord. Gellert glanced back at him over his shoulder, smirking at him with a markedly evil sort of anticipation. Voldemort resigned himself for what was to come and questioned, "What do you need me to do?"

"Oh just stand there and look frightening, I'm just about ready."

Gellert was examining each Horcrux in turn and then carelessly tossing them back into the chest after he was done with them. Voldemort narrowed his eyes again, his anger threatening to get the better of him.

"Be careful with those!" Voldemort snapped harshly.

Gellert grinned at him and said nothing in reply. He reached out to touch Nagini, who had been dozing beside the chest. Gellert gripped her tightly by the base of her head as she hissed and twisted her body wildly. He studied her for a moment then shoved her into the chest and closed the lid on her tail.

Nagini shrieked furiously, "Let me out so I can devour you!"

Voldemort lunged forward to save his familiar. He pulled at the lid of the trunk but it remained firmly shut. He tried to open it with magic, but it still remained shut. He turned to Gellert, infuriated by the man's gall. He spit out fiercely, "Open the chest this instant!"

He hated speaking the words. Voldemort was not a man who ever needed to ask others for anything. He'd always had the power to take what he wanted. He hated Gellert for being more powerful than him and for lording that power over him in such a petty way.

Never mind that he would have done the same, if their roles had been reversed.

Gellert was ignoring him completely now. He was holding his cupped hands together, as if he had something trapped inside. He was peering between his fingers with an intent expression, like one might look at a bug they'd caught. Flickering light escaped the tiny gap in his hands, like fireflies maybe. The dull light shimmered on his handsome features, in an ethereal sort of way. However, there was nothing delicate or beautiful about the cutting look he abruptly turned on Voldemort.

Voldemort had a moment of acute unease then Gellert shifted whatever was in his hands into one closed fist. His free hand shot out and grabbed Voldemort by the front of his robes, yanking him forward. Gellert then shoved him down onto the floor and leaped on top of him, fast as a cat. His legs pinned Voldemort's arms to his sides.

Voldemort struggled immediately but Gellert's lithe form was stronger than it appeared. Gellert used his free hand to grip Voldemort's jaw in a bruising grip. He wrenched Voldemort's jaw open and slapped his other palm against Voldemort's mouth, covering the slits of his nostrils as well.

Something hot but intangible tickled the roof of Voldemort's mouth and he frantically tried to force it out with his tongue but the sensation dropped down into his throat instead, choking him. He coughed and tried to draw in a breath but he couldn't breathe. He couldn't knock Gellert's hand away and he couldn't even turn his head. He was pinned and… wretchedly helpless.

Gellert grinned at him cruelly, "What you're feeling now? That's panic. Just a little taste of what you put me through. I won't let you lose consciousness though. I wouldn't want you to miss what's about to happen next."

The tingling sensation was crawling down his throat into his chest now. Voldemort's body jerked and convulsed, desperate to reject the foreign objects and equally desperate for breath. Then the sensation reached his magical core… and Voldemort was certain that he was dying.

Gellert had been right, he wasn't even aware of the time of day now.

Gellert silenced Voldemort before his screaming could alert anyone. He doubted any of the Death Eaters were actually foolish enough to enter their Lord's bedroom without invitation but there was no point in chancing it. He didn't want to be distracted by them.

Gellert moved his hand down a little so Voldemort could breathe through the ugly slits that served as his nose, but he kept his palm firmly over Voldemort's mouth. He pressed his other hand to Voldemort's chest, right over the core of his being.

The tiny factions of soul were waring with each other. They were simultaneously attracted to each other and repelled. Gellert forced the pieces to merge, one after the other. The fragments on their own were significantly weakened but they became stronger by folds every time they joined.

It took hours to force all five pieces back together. Then Gellert had to summon the remaining pieces from beyond the Veil, which took even longer. There were two that he knew of but when they were finally joined with the other pieces, Gellert could sense that Voldemort's soul was still not whole.

He spent several minutes casting about for the solution. Then, unexpectedly, Harry Potter came to the forefront of his mind and he realized what Voldemort had done to the boy accidentally.

Gellert huffed and cast a contemptuous glance down at Voldemort's repulsive and contorted face. He murmured lowly, "You'd torn yourself into so many pieces by that point that Harry easily overpowered you, even as an infant. It's absolutely pathetic. If I let Harry keep that tiny fragment of your soul then it would be no less than you deserve for killing his parents in cold blood and attempting to end his precious life… However, it seems that your poisonous soul does cause him some discomfort from time to time. What to do, what to do…"

Gellert pondered this issue for several long minutes as Voldemort screamed and writhed beneath him. He dispassionately studied the tears streaking Voldemort's ghastly white skin and he murmured thoughtfully, "Don't you think Harry would prefer more pain now and then no pain later? Carrying around your soul fragment must surely be troublesome for him…"

He worried his lower lip for a moment then nodded decisively, "Yes, I think I can justify it. I will take it from him for that reason."

Gellert tried to take the fragment from Harry gently but he encountered immense resistance. He tried a few different tactics but quickly grew irritated. He muttered under his breath, "Perhaps it's like ripping off a bandage, Harry, my dear. Best done fast?"

He stopped trying to be gentle about it and used considerable force instead.

[][][][][]

Ron, Hermione, Neville and Harry were sitting in the Room of Requirement practicing meditation. The Room had provided them with plush cushions, dim lighting, and loads of burning incense sticks. They'd been at it for about half an hour so far and Ron kept sighing.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Ron. The redhead had his face scrunched up in concentration and it seemed like he was trying to use his heavy sighs to relax his body. Ron drew in another deep breath and let it out noisily.

Harry turned his gaze to Hermione, anticipating that the end of her patience was drawing near. Sure enough her warm brown eyes snapped open. Harry knew what she was going to do next before she did it. He wasn't sure if it was any special talent on his part or if it was just because he knew Hermione so well. She grabbed one of the heavy books stacked beside her and beat Ron with it, with surprising violence.

"Will. You. Stop. Breathing?!"

Neville startled badly, looking shocked by the abrupt end to whatever tranquility he had managed to find for himself. Ron crab-crawled away from Hermione hastily, his expression affronted and his skin quickly turning red.

"I didn't even do anything this time!" He protested. "I have to breathe, Hermione!"

Hermione glared at him, "You don't have to be obnoxious about it. You know what you were doing. You were being deliberately divisive."

Neville held up his hands and tried to restore some semblance of peace, "Hang on right there. Let's all take a deep breath and-"

Harry snorted and muttered, "I think that was the problem, Nev."

Neville and Harry shared an amused look. Neville made an effort to hide his smile and he said slowly, "Maybe… we should start over from the beginning."

Hermione and Ron glared at each other. Their sexual tension was reaching a rather ridiculous level at this point. Harry wasn't sure sometimes if they were about to kiss or about to hex each other. Harry wasn't entirely convinced they were the best match for each other, since their personalities clashed so explosively… but if they dated for a while or even just fooled around then maybe they'd all get some much-needed peace. He knew it wasn't so simple, with the ongoing war, but he was starting to get tired of the constant fighting.

He was glad he had Neville around to lighten the mood. Hermione and Ron would have probably bothered him much more if he'd been the third-wheel in some twisted love-hate romance. As things stood now, Harry was usually more amused than exasperated.

"Let's all take a few minutes to reflect on why we're here," Neville prompted soothingly.

That sobered everyone. Harry closed his eyes once more, focusing on his own breathing. It was difficult to relax though because his forehead was starting to hurt. He thought it might be a headache at first but then the pain became familiar. It was radiating out from his scar and slowly becoming more intense.

Harry opened his eyes and nearly pulled his neck looking behind him. For a second he'd been absolutely certain that Gellert was in the room. When he first opened his eyes, he'd thought there had been four people sitting with him rather than three.

The ache in his head subsided and the nagging sensation of Gellert's presence faded too. Harry closed his eyes and struggled to relax. He was becoming paranoid - looking for demons in every shadow and hesitating to turn every corner.

Then pain exploded in Harry's forehead, like a white-hot fire poker had been hurled directly through his face and it was now burning his impaled brain. He fell to the floor, screeching with agony as he instinctively curled into the fetal position and clutched at his face. His hands came away red with blood.

His friends were screaming his name but Harry couldn't hear them over the sound of his own voice. The sound he was making was more animal than human.

"Oh merlin, Harry, your scar is bleeding everywhere!"

"He's- He's in so much pain, what can we do? Hermione, do you know any pain-"

"No, we need help! We have to get him to the hospital wing right now!"

[][][][][]

Tom Riddle woke slowly. His chest hurt and his body was weary. He couldn't remember what he had dreamt about but he was certain that he had suffered nightmares.

He frowned slightly when he realized he was laying on the floor. Had he fallen out of bed?

He pushed himself up slowly and paused when he got a good look at his hands. He slowly lifted them up and stared at them. They were familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. A memory flashed to his mind of long, bone-white fingers. Those hands had been as thin and ugly as spider legs, with ragged yellow nails. The hands of a corpse or a monster maybe. Those were not his hands.

Tom leapt to his feet, stumbling over the hem of his robes. What was he wearing? There was far too much material and all of it was black.

He didn't recognize the room he was in but there was a mirror hanging on the wall and he went to it, half expecting to see a face other than his own. He stumbled backwards when he saw the reflection of his own eyes. Only, they weren't his own. They were a shocking ruby red in color rather than dark brown.

He vaguely remembered another face. Gaunt and white, with slitted nostrils in place of a nose and no lips or eyebrows. No hair at all. He ran shaking fingers through his dark and wavy hair then touched his face to make sure it was real.

What the hell had happened to him? What was wrong with his eyes?

Dark and terrible memories flickered in his mind and it felt as if the answer was just beyond his reach. What was the last thing he remembered? He tried to focus but multiple memories came to the forefront of his mind. Multiple locations.

Years spent in the bottom of a watery well within a lightless cave, in a room littered with forgotten junk, and in one of the Gringotts vaults… or had he been slithering across the ground that entire time and swallowing people whole?

He remembered an eternity spent amongst the whispering dead. He had been hated there. He'd killed so many people and it had been a sort of madness listening to them rail at him and cry for their lost lives and the loved ones left behind.

That didn't make any sense. He wasn't dead. He hadn't killed all of those people and he'd never been to any of those places, except maybe the Room of Hidden Things - if that was actually what he was remembering. It wasn't quite the same and there was no way he had stayed in that room for years.

He needed to focus on the more prominent memories. He'd been trying to regain a body? No, he had a body, so why would he need another?

An image flashed into his mind. Facing down a beautiful, raven-haired child in the Chamber of Secrets, a boy he - what, hated? No, that wasn't right at all.

He knew Harry as well as himself. He loved Harry. Yes, if he was certain of anything he was certain of that. He chose to focus on that and let the other confusing memories fade back into obscurity for now. He needed to figure out where he was, he needed to change out of these ridiculous robes, and then he needed to go find Harry.

He turned and stopped in his tracks. He wasn't alone. A blond man with violet eyes was laying on the bed watching him.

Gellert Grindelwald.

A slew of unpleasant memories flashed through Tom's mind, making him wince. Gellert sat up and tilted his head curiously to the side as he said, "I have to say, the change in you is remarkable. I wasn't expecting such immediate results."

Tom was in one of his strongholds right now. He had succeeded in making Lord Voldemort a reality but everything had gone terribly wrong, starting with the making of that very first Horcrux. Every subsequent Horcrux had only made it worse, but he'd lost the ability to see what was happening to him.

He was Voldemort and he'd killed Harry's parents and ruined Harry's life. He'd tried to kill Harry, not just once but many times. Had he ever succeeded?

Tom thought he was going to be sick. He whispered, "Is… Is Harry alive?"

Gellert's eyebrows flew upwards and he looked as if he thought he might have misheard Tom. He questioned uncertainly, "What?"

"Harry Potter! Did I hurt him? Did I… kill him?" Tom tasted bile on his tongue and swallowed hard. He could barely ask the question but he needed to know the truth.

Gellert's jaw slackened and his full lips parted with shock. He seemed speechless.

"Tell me!" Tom demanded fiercely, blinking quickly against the sudden sting in his eyes.

"He's… fine," Gellert mumbled ineloquently, still staring at Tom as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Ah, would you mind explaining to me why you care?"

Tom was nearly overcome with relief but his happiness was short-lived and he frowned at Gellert's question. He replied sharply and without hesitation, "Harry is everything to me."

"Well, fuck me in the ass," Gellert muttered to himself under his breath. "I wasn't expecting that."

Tom's frown deepened in response to the man's crass language and he decided to ignore him. He went to his wardrobe and began rummaging through it, looking for something other than black, flamboyantly cut robes. He'd been mad for a spell, but apparently that meant he'd lost all sense of taste as well. He gave up on trying to find something practical and summoned his wand to his hand. He transfigured the robes he was wearing into something more in line with what he knew about current trends.

He chose a deep red hue that he knew Harry would appreciate. Maybe it would compliment his new eye color as well. What would Harry think of his unusual eyes?

"Here's what we're going to do, lover boy. You're going to sit down and let me take a peek inside your head to see what the devil is wrong with you. I'm going to fix it and then we are never going to speak of this again. Agreed?"

Tom cast Gellert a scornful look, "I am not going to let you perform Legilimency on me."

"I'm already skimming your thoughts. I want to probe a little deeper and it'd be better if you sat down first so-" Gellert paused then shook his head. "You know what, Tom? Never mind, don't listen to me."

Tom was hit by a crushing wave of magic and knocked off his feet. He felt a foreign presence inside of his head and he automatically forced it out. He established his mental boundaries with practiced ease and reinforced his natural defenses.

Gellert relented after a few more seconds and hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the wand that Tom was now pointing in his direction. Tom hissed, "Try that again and I will kill you."

He suddenly remembered how well that had gone the last time he had tried. He hesitated just a second longer then reluctantly put away his wand and rose to his feet. Gellert smirked at him and commented, "Wise choice."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Tom asked resentfully.

"Yes, actually," Gellert replied mildly, ignoring Tom's tone. "I'm surprised I didn't puzzle it out before. When you made the mistake of trying to kill Harry, when he was a baby, he killed you instead. At that point in time a tiny fragment of your shredded soul latched onto him. In other words, you accidentally made him a Horcrux and part of you has lived the last seventeen years inside of Harry's head. Consequentially, you are hopelessly in love with him. Your love for him is significantly greater than any hate you ever felt for him so that faction of your personality has become dominant. It makes perfect sense now."

Tom shook his head and turned away, feeling somewhat embarrassed and a great deal conflicted. Now that some time had passed he knew, logically, that Harry did not feel the same for him. If he went to Harry right now then the younger man would be frightened and would undoubtedly try to kill him in order to protect himself and his friends.

Tom couldn't even blame Harry for it. A few hours ago, part of him had wanted Harry dead and that part of him had been actively working toward that goal. It was awful but true nonetheless.

How could he possibly make amends for all that he had done? Was forgiveness even a possibility for him?

Gellert finally spoke again, after several minutes of silence, "This is good."

It sounded almost as if he was having to convince himself. Tom turned back to him, wondering what the man was talking about. Gellert was standing a few feet away, with his arms crossed and a slight frown on his face. He was nearly as beautiful as Harry.

Tom felt a sharp stab of irritation when he remembered that Gellert had met Harry recently. Harry had freed Gellert from his prison and Gellert was fond of Harry. Overly fond of Harry. Suddenly Tom wanted to strike Gellert.

Gellert took a large step backwards, as if reading Tom's mind. Tom checked to ensure that he was still occluding his mind. He was, so he supposed that his expression must have conveyed his secret wishes.

Gellert cleared his throat and continued, "It is good because I will not have to worry about protecting Harry from you in the future. It also saves me the trouble of convincing you that you are meant to love Harry Potter."

"Meant to?" Tom questioned tersely, trying in vain to quell his jealousy. There was something nagging at his mind that bothered him. Something that Gellert had said to him before.

'Your Harry is so delectably sweet that I'm tempted to take him from you.'

Tom would find a way to kill Gellert before he ever allowed that to happen. Harry might not want him now or maybe even ever... but Tom wasn't going to stand by and let anyone else have him either. Even Gellert admitted that Harry belonged to Tom.

"Yes," Gellert replied obliviously. "You are his perfect match, in every way. Just as Albus was mine."

Gellert's bitterness and his use of past tense did not escape Tom's notice. Tom wondered if he might be able to use Albus against Gellert. First things first, he needed to learn everything there was to know about Gellert. He would have to play nice, for now.

"You said you would make me whole then teach me everything you know," Tom said. "So far you've restored my soul and my body… with the notable exception of my eyes."

"I made your pupils normal again but the red color of your irises is a harmless, tasteful touch of drama. It makes you stand out from others and I think that maybe it will serve as a reminder to you, of what you owe me. I still intend to do everything I promised."

"I am grateful to you," Tom replied convincingly. However, he knew that such favors came at a cost and he was not sure it would be a cost he was willing to pay.

"Hm," Gellert murmured. He paused for slightly too long before smiling at Tom and asking cheerfully, "Shall we begin then?"