9

A Fragmented Mirror

The boy's diminutive hands clasped the wand, which seemed too big for them, until they hurt. His large emerald eyes stared down the long corridor with apprehension rising up his throat. Despite the fear, he felt his legs carry him steadily forward. His heart increased its pace, as a sense of claustrophobia set in. Yet his small legs continued. He wanted them to stop. The boy was close to panicking now. Light from the room radiated toward him, and he began to regret.

He tried to stop, but continued onward. His mouth opened to call for help, but no words escaped. He could not stop, not now.

Harry rose from the bed and began to pace with unsteady breath. He dried his eyes with his sleeve. The dream had been haunting him ever since the Pierce mission. He silently cursed the man. Moving his hands through his hair, Harry explored the contents of the room.

He opened the closet and was surprised to see that it held clothes that appeared to be for him. Pushing the clothes to one side, Harry examined the shelves of the closet. On one shelf, he discovered his shoes. He tossed them aside. The other shelves were empty. Harry reached over head and felt around the very top shelf. His hands connected with a metal object. Carefully, Harry brought it into sight.

Harry's reflection met him, as he stared into the silver mirror. His almond-shaped emerald eyes that peered back at him were more sunken in then he remembered them. The messy black hair for once hung limply.

"You look a mess." He whispered, laughing silently. Anger then welled up inside him, and he flung the mirror across the room. The sound of the glass breaking echoed hollowly in the sepulchral room.

He blinked, the noise bringing him out of his thoughts. Though he knew noise would come, Harry had not expected it. His thin lips tighten, as he walked over to pick up a fragment. His father's words played over in his head, as Harry stared at the jagged end of the reflective piece.

One of his dull eyes returned his gaze. Deliberately, Harry pressed the piece into his skin.

James leaned back in his chair, eyeing the clock. His shift would be over soon, and then watching Harry would be Dumbledore's task. His head sank back into the chair, knowing that he should check on Harry one more time before Dumbledore arrived. Stretching, he rose. The night had been long and uneventful with his charge sleeping through it.

He wished that he had not had to spend it alone. Lily had taken Dorian home. The boy had taken the news of his brother fairly well, but of course he had never known Harry. Sirius had been gone with Moody to fill out the necessary paper work concerning Harry. Dumbledore had warned both Lily and him that Harry would probably be taken into the Ministry's custody. The news had greatly upset Lily.

He sighed as he reached the room that belonged to his son. James frowned slightly. It was still so hard to believe that Harry was alive. His hand clasped the cold doorknob. The first place he looked was the bed, and he was astonished to find it empty. He heart quickened with the aspect of having his ward hiding in the house.

Turning James noticed Harry bunched up using the wall as a back brace. His face was bleached white, making his glazed eyes stick out.

"Harry, are you alright."

The young man remained silent, so James moved nearer, bending down to examine him further. James's hand grasped Harry's wrist. Withdrawing his hand, James saw that it was stained with crimson blood.

"God," he muttered. With shaking hands he quickly withdrew his wand. "EPISKEY!" The bleeding stopped and the gash began to heal. James reached for the other wrist, he was silently glad that Harry was too weak to resist. Muttering the spell once more, James breathed easier. "Why the hell did you do that!" James asked, as he pulled his son into his arms.

Harry's head lulled back, until it rest on James's shoulder, tears falling from his eyes.

James silently rocked back and forth until his son blacked out. Raising his wand once more, he sent his Patronus to greet Dumbledore.

"It will be alright." James found himself muttering aloud, despite the fact Harry could no longer hear him.

"James, is everything alright?"

"Albus, hurry."

The elderly man walked in and briefly examined the scene before him. "What happened?" He said, as he helped James lift Harry on to the bed. The Headmaster stopped suddenly when he saw a lightening bolt shaped scar on the young man's forearm. "Did he cut himself here?"

"No, he slit his wrists." James said glancing at the scar Dumbledore was examining with interest. "He needs to be taken to St. Mungo's."

"We will send for Madame Pomfrey immediately." Dumbledore interrupted James before he could argue. "We can not take Harry to St. Mungo's. He is considered a danger to the public. Alastor would never go along with it. James, if you would send the message to Poppy, and then bring water up that would be appreciated. We need to get fluids in him."

James nodded and left the room practically in a run. Dumbledore waited until he left, before he tried to wake Harry.

"Harry, I need to know how you got that scar." The Headmaster said sternly, peering down at the sleeping form. He gently shook the adolescent before asking again.

Harry's eyes weakly crack them open before closing. He mumbled something that Dumbledore could not understand. Then Harry said something he could. "I don't wear the marking of the hired hands." Harry's voice trailed off, and Dumbledore knew he had returned to sleep.

Dumbledore's face was grimly set. "You have finally outfoxed me, Tom."

-PART2- Riddle's Game

Two days after Harry's attempted suicide, the young man had begun to slowly recuperate. This put Dumbledore's mind at great ease, knowing that he would live. Now as Dumbledore surveyed the kitchen, which was filled with the most trusted members of the Order, he felt extremely tired. The past days had not been undemanding, but then again neither would the days to come.

He looked to James Potter, who sat uneasily. Dumbledore knew he suspected something. However, the Headmaster had decided not to disclose his thoughts with James that night.

"Alastor," Dumbledore started. "I need you to find a way to get Harry into my custody permanently."

"Albus, the boy is a murderer!" Moody stated. "The Minster of Magic will never agree to such an idea."

Dumbledore's face looked extremely drained. "Voldemort has manipulated the Prophecy. He has literally marked Harry as his equal. All this time, Voldemort has held the prophesied one, leading us all the while to believe that we had him in Neville. He has played his hand masterfully, until now." Dumbledore paused. "I am going to be taking Harry to Hogwarts for safekeeping, Alastor."

"I will get it cleared, Albus. Just promise me that he will never leave Hogwarts without your supervision."

"I will be sure of that." Dumbledore then turned to James. "I will need you to stay with Harry while he is at Hogwarts."

James nodded his head, though his eyes shot daggers at the old man. Dumbledore knew the look was because he had not been told of Riddle's manipulations before now.

"How do we get him destroy the Dark Lord when he calls him 'father'?" Tonks asked tentatively.

"We show him the truth." Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. "I will be talking with Harry over the school year, to convince him in the wrongness of Voldemort's actions. I am confident we will succeed."

"What about Neville?" James asked. "Are you certain that he is not the chosen one?"

"Neville is a powerful asset. However, after seeing the mark on Harry I am positive that it is him. Voldemort was quite meticulous in his handling of the Prophecy. Not only did Voldemort discreetly select his equal, he made certain that the boy had blackened hands." Dumbledore looked around the room at the many faces. "His work as an assassin for Voldemort was not just for the Dark Lord's convenience. Voldemort wanted him to appear beyond redemption."

"And it is our job to prove him wrong." Sirius said almost cheerfully.

Dumbledore nodded. His attention turned to the door where Snape stood in the doorway. "Severus, I was not expecting you."

Snape remained in the door way. "The Dark Lord wishes to give a message to his son."

Dumbledore froze. "What is his message?"

"That he wishes his son to remain well."

"You couldn't have come sooner, could you, Snape." James Potter caustically stated. "When did your Lord give you this message, hmm?"

"I ran into obstacles, Potter."

"Of course, 'obstacles'."

"James, this is not the time-." Dumbledore began.

"Don't you see-."

Dumbledore's scowl immediately stopped James's protests. "You may precede, Severus. Lily is with him now, but I am sure she will allow you some privacy."

"Thank-you, Headmaster." Snape smirked at James Potter, even as he spoke.

Harry stared at the emerald eyed woman, who would continuously push loose strands of his hair into place, if they had ever had a place. He was not use to this type of behavior, and most certainly did not know how to respond to it. Somehow, Harry found he could not tell the woman to stop. He closed his eyes, praying to wake up back in his father's fortress or anywhere away from this woman, who made him feel peculiar.

"Are you alright?" Her voice asked, cutting through his thoughts.

He nodded his head. Harry knew she was now accustomed to his nonverbal replies, which only irritated him further. He did not want to communicate with these people.

"You have really grown." She started. "You look so much like James."

Harry could not help but flinch. "I am not you son."

"I believe I remember bearing you." Lily Potter said a small smile touching her lips. "Then I raised you for a year, before he took you from us!"

"My father did that for my protection." Harry said calmly.

"Voldemort did it to use you!"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're too clouded with Dumbledore's thinking to truly see."

"Are you sure it is not the other way around?"

Harry reflected silently. "Yes."

The door opened. "Potter, the Headmaster wishes to speak with you."

Lily frowned, looking down at Harry.

"I assure you, he will be fine when you return." Snape moved further into the room.

Lily nodded and reluctantly left.

"Snape," Harry pronounced the professor's name slowly.

"I have a message from the Dark Lord." Snape looked down on the fragile adolescent. "You are to remain well."

Laughter erupted from Harry's throat. "What side are you on, Snape?"

"You doubt the message comes from the Dark Lord?"

"No," Harry said, waving his scared wrist casually in front of the other man. "It just seems a little late."

Snape blinked, realizing that Harry was trying to gain access into his mind. "I ran into difficulties. The dear Headmaster did not believe we should meet."

"Traitors suffer horrible deaths." Harry said unblinkingly.

"Yes… you would know of that," Snape whispered indifferently. "All the same, it is well that I am quite loyal to my Lord."

Harry nodded his head, a small smile on his face. "Inform my father of my health. You are dismissed, Snape."

The potions master left the room, and Harry collapsed back into the pillows. He was magically worn from his attempts to enter Snape mind. The man was gifted in occlumency, enough that Harry was wary of him. Reservedly, he wondered why his father kept the weasel around. Harry could plainly see that the man played a game of his own design.

"Slimy, git." He whispered, as Lily Potter reentered the room. Then, he quickly pretended to be asleep to avoid the red-haired woman.