Revised: January 17, 2022

Nothing really changed here as far as adding or removing scenes. I just wanted to clean it up — and add some questions that will never be answered because I have no freaking clue.

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Heads up, it gets slightly darker here *turns on flashlight* That's better *light flickers out* Gosh dang it.

Harry's feet hit the ground and he looked around. He recognized Gringotts at once, but not the tall boy sitting in a chair in front of a goblin.

"Hello?" Harry said uncertainly, but the boy continued to stare straight ahead.

"They won't be able to hear you," a voice said from behind. Harry turned to see another boy standing there. Except for the fact he was older, he was the spitting image of the boy in the chair.

"Tom?"

Tom nodded but didn't speak. He looked almost nervous about something, but before Harry could ask why, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned back around. A goblin had entered the room, holding out a dagger and parchment. "Prick your finger and let two drops fall."

The younger Tom did as he was told and watched as words materialized in the parchment, much like how they did with Harry. His dark brown eyes widened as it got to the bottom. "What's a soul bond?" he asked.

Harry's breath hitched, and he leaned forward.

Soulmate: Harry Potter, the parchment read.

"It is a link between two people of equal or similar power," the goblin explained. "Very rarely do they form, but it is up to the people involved whether they want to act on it or not."

"I don't know anyone in the wizarding world, though," said Tom. "Do you know a Harry Potter?"

"Currently, there is no Harry Potter on record," the goblin told him, "which means he has not been born yet."

Harry frowned. He hadn't thought of that, too caught up in the fact that he was destined to be with Voldemort — or a form of him. How did Lady Magic know who would match in power if one wasn't even alive? Unless she knew what Dumbledore would do... He shook his head. This was getting way too confusing.

He looked at Tom, partly hoping he would ask. But Tom wasn't thinking of that at the moment.

"How long will I have to wait?" he asked. He looked so hopeful, and Harry winced.

"That I do not know. But do not fret. Lady Magic knows what she's doing."

Gringotts began to blur around Harry, morphing into a new setting: the Transfiguration office. Instead of Professor McGonagall, though, there was a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore with auburn hair.

The door opened and Tom, still eleven years old, walked in.

"You called me, sir?" he said politely as he sat down.

"I did, my boy," Dumbledore replied. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you."

"Please, I insist." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Harry glanced at Tom, who would surely be suspicious of the professor's insistence. To his surprise, Tom took one. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, no, don't worry. However, I would like to ask you something." Dumbledore leaned forward, blue eyes boring into Tom's brown ones. "Did you go to Gringotts over the holidays?"

Tom nodded. "I did, sir. Headmaster Dippet allowed me to."

"And what did you find?"

Harry could see Tom was starting to look wary of the questions. "My father was a Muggle, my mother a witch."

"Is that all?" Dumbledore pressed.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck rose. He knew...

Tom had frowned, as if he too had reached this conclusion but was unsure whether it was true or not. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I do not see how this concerns you."

Harry watched Dumbledore's face carefully. Outwardly, he didn't seem to take offense, but his eyes dimmed for the smallest moment. "I have heard you have found out something else."

"Heard?" Tom said sharply, straightening in his chair slightly. Harry stiffened as well. "Heard what?"

"You have a soul bond," said Dumbledore. "With someone named Harry Potter. And don't try to lie, Tom."

Tom's eyes widened. "H-how did you find out?"

"I have my sources," Dumbledore replied mysteriously.

"That's an invasion of privacy," Tom protested, beginning to stand. "You shouldn't know that."

"Sit down, Tom," Dumbledore commanded.

Tom sat down with a thump, but the rising panic in his eyes told Harry that had not been his intention. "What did you do?" he demanded, his eyes flicking to the lemon drops and back.

Harry took a step back as Dumbledore stood and removed his wand. Tom's gaze followed the movement and he began struggling.

"Professor —" Tom began, only to be silenced. His eyes widened and his breathing quickened.

"I do apologize, Tom," Dumbledore said as Tom gazed up at him in fear. "But I cannot allow you to continue."

He waved his wand, and Tom went limp, eyes going blank. "You will forget about the soul bond," he commanded. "You will hate your half-blood status. The Dark Arts will be your passion, and you will learn all you can. You will do everything you can to ensure immortality."

While Tom sat there catatonic, Dumbledore pulled out a roll of parchment and a knife. Harry watched, sick with apprehension, as he pricked Tom's finger, letting three drops of blood drip onto the parchment.

He's adding compulsions, Harry realized as words began to appear. Compulsions to hate Gryffindors, hate Muggles and Muggle-borns, fear death, worship Salazar Slytherin...

Tom had begun to groan in pain, eyes squeezed shut. His head turned from side to side, but he did not respond. When no more compulsions were added, Dumbledore put the parchment away and spoke to Tom once more. "You will go to your dorm, remembering I asked about you going to Gringotts and then normal school-related topics. Now go."

Like a puppet, Tom jerked to his feet and walked out of the office.

"How do you remember this?" Harry whispered hoarsely, turning to the older Tom.

"You will see," non-memory Tom said softly. He was looking away, pain darkening his expression.

Harry braced himself. "What's next?"

In answer, the office began to spin around him, morphing into the dungeon where Snape taught Potions.

"Evening, Rubeus," said Tom as he entered. He now looked like the Tom that stood beside Harry, though Harry flinched when he saw the coldness in his eyes. Something brushed against him and he turned to see the non-memory Tom had placed a hand on his back. He didn't meet Harry's gaze.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?" That was a Hagrid speaking.

Tom stepped forward. "It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"'And what do you —"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —"

"It never killed no one!" Hagrid protested, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear faint clicking and even though he knew it couldn't hurt him here, he backed away. Only the non-memory Tom's presence calmed him.

"Come on, Rubeus. The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."

"It wasn't him!" Hagrid insisted. "He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside," said Tom, drawing out his wand.

The corridor, which had been cast in shadow throughout this entire conversation, suddenly burst into brightness. The door flew open, knocking Hagrid into the opposite wall.

Harry jumped as something dark and hairy emerged from its hiding place and scurried out, knocking Tom over. Tom scrambled back up, but Hagrid seized his wand yelling, "NOOOOOO!"

"Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked, dismayed, as the room faded from from view.

"No, I framed him," said Tom. "Myrtle happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Myrtle? As in Moaning Myrtle? The ghost?" Harry said.

Tom nodded. "In my... altered state of mind, I decided to use her death as my first Horcrux."

"Horcrux?" All these short answers just piqued Harry's curiosity more.

"Watch."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"That is Professor Slughorn," non-memory Tom told Harry. "He was the Potions teacher at the time."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" he said doubtfully.

"Not exactly, sir," said Tom. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it." His eyes were bright and rounded like a curious child asking for a sip of beer.

"No... well... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Slughorn.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd ask —" He broke off and shifted his feet as though nervous, but Harry could tell it was an act.

"Well," said Slughorn, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir."

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form... It is not something most would like. Few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By commiting murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: he would encase the torn portion —"

"Encase? But how —?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" Slughorn shook his head. "Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," Tom said quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend..."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly, "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things... wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic..."

"Yes, sir," said Tom.

The memory faded, and in the next one, Harry glimpsed the ritual of creating a Horcrux and saw how the Horcrux Tom's memories slowly broke through the compulsions and blocks, screaming in pain much like how Harry had back in Gringotts, sweat pouring down his face as he realized what he had done.

"Wait..." he rasped. "No! Wait! You're making a mistake!"

But the diary wasn't opened again. He sank to the floor, gripping his hair. "What have I done?"

Harry backed away, sickened by what he had seen. As he continued to watch, time passed again, and the last thing Harry saw was Lucius Malfoy slipping the diary into Ginny's cauldron.

It took a moment for Harry to process what he had just witnessed. When he did, his legs began to give way. "Oh, Merlin," he whispered, staggering backwards. He would have fallen over completely if it weren't for Tom's arms catching him.

Disclaimer about title: I do not listen to Fall Out Boy.