The Flames of Hatred and Love

Eight- Feelings

AN: OMG! We're at 1K reads!! I cannot believe it!!!
Thank you, Beautiful Readers! It means so much to me, and I'm glad you're enjoying this story! (At least I hope you are...)

Onto the chapter!
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Harry was walking around the castle alone on Sunday afternoon, whiling away the time until he'd visit Hagrid.

He was watching a portrait of five wizards drinking at a table with great interest. Harry found all of the moving portraits quite fascinating. He acted as if he was getting used to Magic being everywhere, but the truth of the matter was that Harry doubted he'd ever get used to Magic. In order to fit in with his classmates, he pretended like he wasn't completely new to all of this.

Something else Harry wouldn't get used to, was not having Tom around all the time. There were times when he was fine with it, like when Tom wasn't very nice to Ron, or he blatantly disagreed with Harry's choices. But then other times, Harry missed when it had been just the two of them.

When Harry was feeling upset, Tom had a way to make him feel better, just by being himself. Or discovering new things about themselves, whether it was Magic or just everyday things like losing a tooth; Tom being an inch taller; Learning how to ride bikes together; Harry realizing that mirrors were actually just glass with a black backing.

Harry moved past the drunk yelling wizards, and watched a moving tapestry of trolls performing ballet. They were quite graceful, the trolls, and Harry was soon mesmerized. He wondered if he would ever be able to dance like them. Tom certainly would be able to!

"I don't think I'd look very good in a tutu."

Harry felt himself smile at the sound of Tom's voice. He turned his head to the right, and found Tom standing next to him. The taller of the two dark haired boys had a sudden thoughtful expression on his pale face. "You, on the other hand, would look very cute in a tutu."

"I am not wearing a tutu, Tom."

Tom just lifted his shoulders, filing away the idea for later. "Harry, please don't go to Hagrid's."

Harry's warm feelings towards Tom chilled a bit. This was definitely a time he didn't mind the distance between them.

"Tom, if we're going to get the answers we need, then Hagrid is the way to go about it! Besides, he's the only person here who seems to have information about my parents. No one else has told me much..."

"Professor McGonagall seems to know about them," Tom retorted.

"What do you have against Hagrid?"

"I don't like him."

"You don't like anybody!"

Tom glared at Harry. Sometimes the truth really sucked.

"It's more than that," Tom said slowly, trying to figure out a way to explain it. "I just get these... feelings. Like he's not all that he says he is. And I don't like the way he spoke of that other Riddle. And he doesn't seem to like me either. I think he could be dangerous!"

Tom was grasping at straws now.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Tom, we live with the Dursleys. I don't think Hagrid counts as very dangerous."

Tom shook his head. "Harry, you trust way too easily. I'm sorry, but it's true!"

He put a hand up when Harry tried to argue. "Just because they're not as outspokenly awful as Vernon or Petunia, that doesn't mean they're not plotting something insidious."

Harry stared at Tom in disbelief. "Plotting? Really, Tom? Who is plotting against me?"

"Dumbledore," Tom said simply.