chapter 5

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"Well now, young Harry Potter. Our resident mystery." The boy smirked, his lack of fear was.... intriguing. Once it would have infuriated him, but now? Voldemort didn't know what to think. "I believe it's time we had a chat." Harry went silent, his face serious as he nodded his head. "I agree, but what is it exactly you want to talk about?" Voldemort gestured to the end of the bed, and at Harry's nod, sat cross legged opposite the boy, who sat identically. It was strange, even as a child Harry had always managed to wipe away Voldemorts masks, and even now as allies this remained true. "First of all I would like to understand more about how your power works. I have found very little information on Shadow Magic." Harry nodded his head thoughtfully before replying. "Very well, I understand your craving for knowledge better than most. Perhaps in another life you could have been a Ravenclaw." Voldemort instantly was filled with rage at the blatent comment on his childhood, but suddenly felt that anger drain. His eye was caught by a movement, and he saw his shadow flickering slightly. He turned towards Harry, who still looked only thoughtful. "What did you do?"

Harry looked up at him and frowned. "Experimenting. You see, one ability of shadows is communication. Not only do shadows talk to one another, passing secrets and thoughts along, but they communicate, in a way, with their bearer. For example, my shadow, Cherie, raised me as a child, teaching me about my past, but also reassuring me when I was scared, taking my pain when I was hurt. Shadows are an extension of one's soul, they bear a lot of the weight on one's shoulders. You could stab me now without my feeling pain, Cherie would take it all away. Most people's shadows can't do this, most people aren't in tune enough with shadows. But even Muggles are linked enough with their Shadow for a similar effect to take place. It takes the edge off of their anger and emotions. If someone has a damaged soul, it means their link to their Shadow has been cut off, it makes their emotions go all over the place. Like Bellatrix, she is completely cut off from her shadow, she has no ability to control her emotions. My ability as a Shadow mage is to intercept that link. I can touch it, and hear what is passed between them. I can speak to the shadow of someone's soul, if the Shadow is willing to talk. Most aren't, but those that are cut off, it's much easier. Bellatrix's link to hers is so damaged, her shadow has absolutely no personality or sense of loyalty, which is why it went against her so easily." Harry fell silent, looking up at the man he had always thought of as the enemy. It was strange how easily he could blurt out these secrets, but it was nice to share his interest and passion with someone who would understand. Who wouldn't fear or despise him. Being with this so called monster was oddly freeing. "That certainly explains a lot about Bellatrix, but not about what you just did to me." Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, sorry about that. It's just, lots of things can damage soul/shadow links. Excess use of magic for one, but mostly pain or madness.

The things we went through, it was enough to damage irreparably our souls. If I wasn't a Shadow mage, my soul would be as damaged as yours. As it is, yours is damaged. Badly. Normally I wouldn't be able to repair a cut on this scale but..... I can feel your emotions through our link. I wondered if I could use that bond to heal your soul damage, and it worked, at least a bit. Not so much that you'll be stable, no offense, but enough that your reactions aren't quite so....irrational? " Harry grimaced at the tingle of anger he felt in his scar, but was glad to see it wasn't as bad as it used to be. Tom wasn't so damaged now.

Tom on the other hand was not happy! Potter knew about his Horcruxes "What exactly do you know if this damage?" Harry shrugged again, a habit the Dark Lord despised. "I think most of its caused by trauma, the edges of your shadow are spiky, but some of it is from magical over-use as well, the silhouette is kind of blurred. What worried me is how small your shadow seems to be. Like some of its missing, and it's strange how it keeps reaching out to me." Now Voldemort really was worried. How much damage had the Horcruxes caused exactly. Moreover, why was part of his soul reaching to Harry Potter. But of course. The link. The images and emotions. Harry Potter was a Horcrux.

Harry felt a spectrum of emotions come from Voldemort, from shock to anger and almost relief. "Are you okay?" He didn't know what possessed him to ask the Dark Lord that, but the shock it garnered was kind of sad. Harry being Harry decided he would check in in Tom more. They were living together. Tom nodded slightly. "It is not of import. Was there something you wished to speak to me about?" Harry was surprised by how, polite, Tom was being. And how easy it was to think of him as Tom now. "Yes, I think it's time we discussed my place in this war. All we've really confirmed is that you wish me to live here for the foreseeable future." Tom nodded and smirked. "Yes, you can hardly go back to your precious Dumbledore now, can you Potter?" And there was Voldemort. Harry glared at the Dark Lord. "As if I would want to in the first place. I'm not as stupid and illusioned as Snape makes me out to be! Dumbledore left me with the Muggles, all he cares about is beating you. I figured that out a long time ago." Voldemort only raised and eyebrow, folding his arms. "So you don't want to return?" Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't! Why would I? Here I can talk to my shadows and use the full extent of my magic without being judged or hated. Sure, the Death Eaters are a bit of a downer, but I can put up with them. It's not like I was really learning anything at Hogwarts anyway."

Tom nodded, what Harry was saying made sense. It was just difficult to think of this coming from Harry Potter. He had to remind himself that none of them knew the boy. "What of your friends?" The boy scowled and raised his knees to his chest, arms circled around his legs. The position was a familiar one, full of anger, self-loathing and sadness. "What freinds? You mean the ones that are jealous of my fame, and report every breath I take to Dumbledore. Or do you mean the ones that are so light and blind that they would turn on me the second they found out I was having a cordial conversation with you, that I don't want to kill you? There's no one I'll miss." Riddle was surprised and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees in an oddly open position. He'd never felt this comfortable with someone, or so intrigued and surprised by one person. "You truly have no one, do you?" Harry looked up angry, but his shadow manifested into a more solid form, and apparently spoke to the boy. Harry turned back to face him, his expression less angry and more sad. "I guess Dumbledore is right about one thing." Tom's brows furrowed, not expecting that from Potters mouth. Perhaps the boy wasn't so different. "And what would that be?" His so called enemy looked up at him with a lopsided grin, messy hair falling into his eyes. "You and I really aren't so different."

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