I'm going to the midnight session of Harry Potter tomorrow... can't wait. It shall be more epic than that time I – er... anyway, for this chapter, I've made it 3380 words for a reason. And that reason being? Well, I have officially, after posting this chapter, reached 50,000 words! Yay for my lack of life (and the fact that I tend to ramble a lot about things that really don't seem matter to anyone excluding myself).

I hope you all enjoy!

Title: Crossroads

Genre: Romance, angst, hurt/comfort, drama.

Rating: T (for slash, violence and possibly gore. If any other warnings come up, I'll make note of them). Oh, and language if you include the words 'damn' and 'bloody' as bad words. I personally don't, but some may.

Pairing: Harry x Tom (main), Harry x Voldemort, Draco x Blaise (eventually, but there won't be much).

Warnings: slash and SPOILERS. Lot's and lot's of spoilers.

Summery (extended): At the end of Harry's fifth year, Voldemort disappeared before the Ministry arrived, and everyone's memories have been tampered with. Declared insane and dangerous, Harry is sent to an institution with minimal human contact. With only his thoughts to entertain him, Harry isn't overly surprised when he starts seeing the ghosts of his past. He finds himself stuck between the Light side and the Dark side, staring down the crossroads of his life.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, as much as I would like to. I do not own Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort, as much as I would like to. And I certainly do not own any other character that appears, as much as I would like to. Because apparently, owning a person is wrong and the police refuse to tolerate it. Spoil sports.

Chapter eight - Distrust

It was another week before Harry managed to progress on his attempts at wandless magic. Under Riddle's careful, if smothering, watch, Harry was beginning to grasp the concepts of using magic without a wand, using previous memories to help release the magic. Memories as a child, when he felt frightened, angry or sad. He found that, when drawing on those emotions and memories, he was able to draw on his surging magic in an unmanageable, though existent, force. With that magic in his grasp, Harry was finally able to float the parchment around the room at a low aptitude. To Riddle, is was barely an improvement, but to Harry, it seemed like he had just overcome an amazing feat – it was the same feeling as the day in his fourth year after he had completed the first task; he felt invincible. Amazing. Incredible. Unreal.

It didn't change Riddle's attitude in the slightest, though. The more desperate he became to learn wandless magic and escape, the more Riddle encouraged him to work – the more he pushed him. What had started out a levitating a sheet of parchment had turned into levitating books, cups, plates and anything else Harry managed to get his hands on; even to the point where Riddle suggested he levitate the bed, once he managed to detach it from the floor. Harry had readily disagreed, suggesting they start trying other spells now that he had succeeded in his attempts at wandless. Riddle had been quick to find the flaws.

'You see, Harry, it's not about finding spells you can do with wandless, it's about finding spells you can use without something to practice on,' Riddle argued, trying to sway Harry on his new idea.

"I'm going to need to learn these spells anyway, if I want to escape. They're not just going to let me walk out," he tried, "what would you suggest I do instead? Ask them nicely?"

'With some persuasive wandless magic, it might actually work,' he said, ignoring Harry's cry of shock.

"I'm not going to curse someone! I want them to see I'm not a dark wizard like they seem to think!" Harry truthfully cried. Riddle was unabashed, as though using a wandless imperio meant nothing to him. In some ways, Harry believed that to be the case. Riddle was still Voldemort. Just more slightly pleasant and less blood thirsty.

'You're the one who wants to escape. As for me, I'm stuck inside your mind for longer than I'd care to imagine. I gain nothing from this, if only more amusement,' Riddle sighed, ignoring, Harry's annoyed, though childish, response.

'That's not a pleasant thing to call someone, and perhaps you could let that Slytherin side of you show. Sneak up on some moronic, unsuspecting wizard and steal his wand when he's not looking if you refuse to use an actual helpful spell. Much easier than relying on wandless magic to escape when there's potentially a full work-body of trained wizards you're going up again,' he replied shortly after. Harry considered his idea, not liking having to steal from someone, yet seeing the sense. If, however, he could find his own wand to use... a sudden thought hit Harry – something that had been plaguing his mind each time he thought of magic.

"Do you think they have my wand somewhere?" He asked surrendering. He wouldn't drop the subject, of course. Knowing a wandless stupefy and expelliarmus would definitely come in handy.

'Unlikely. However... if that old coot believes you are the chosen one, there is a chance he has your wand,' Riddle murmured sourly, the thought of his ex-professor leaving a foul sense in his mind. Harry could feel Riddle's sudden anger at the man – so similar to his own, yet so different.

So Harry's wand was out of question. He suspected it, actually. If his wand hadn't been snapped – he ignored the feeling of loss – then Dumbledore had managed to salvage it, and most likely kept it waiting. If not, there was a chance that one of the Order members managed to take it. He hoped, he truly hoped, that it was the latter – residing with either Dumbledore or an Order member. Something about the lack of wand made him feel naked and uncomfortable. Unnatural.

But... it would mean he had to steal a wand and, even though these people had opted in his punishment, he still couldn't shake the guilty feeling that he was about to do something terrible. His own wand had been taken, it's fate unknown, and that was enough to send a feeling of loss throughout Harry. And to think he was going to do the same to another – it just didn't sit well. Especially if these people were only doing their jobs.

'All we have to do is hope that whatever wand you manage to steal will be a wand that works for you,' Riddle said suddenly, tearing Harry from his thoughts. Confused, though slightly understanding, Harry wondered why it would matter. He knew that whatever wand he managed to take – if he managed to take one, that is – would not be as strong as his own, Holly wand, yet it would still be able to channel his magic.

'When Ollivander told you that 'the wand chooses the wizard', which by no doubt, he did, he meant that the wand you leave with will be the one that work's best for you. Think of all the other wands you tried that day – using one like that would weaken your magic,' he elaborated, sensing his confusion. Harry did remember that time in Diagon Alley, as Ollivander would hand him the wands, yet none, until the holly one, would produce any sparks.

"Oh. And if it doesn't work?" Harry asked grinning slyly, feeling a victory coming on.

'Let's not think about that just yet. I suppose, you would know wandless magic... oh, whatever, I'll teach you those wandless spells,' he sighed, ignoring Harry's laugh of victory.

"Excellent, let's start with expelliarmus," he teased, much to Riddle's annoyance.

'One problem. How do you plan to practice a wandless expelliarmus spell when you have nothing to practice on?'

He didn't know. Looking around his room... or cell, as it had come to be, little had changed. The desk, the bed and the chair were all connected to the floor – no doubt by magic – rendering them impossible to use. If, perhaps, he could find a perch for a quill to use as a make shift wand, it might work, but without that perch it would be virtually useless.

"Oh..." Harry said, disappointed. He sunk onto the bed, which dipped as his weight rested on it, depressed. Riddle was silent, thought Harry couldn't feel the awkwardness and uncertainty radiating from the other mind. He chose to ignore the feeling, still attempting to remember anything – anything at all, that he could use.

'There is... something I can do,' Riddle said hesitantly, his voice light and weary. It did nothing to inspire confidence in Harry's own mind, though he assumed he should hear the other out.

"Yeah?" He asked, waiting patiently as Riddle seemed to think once again.

'I could... take over for a short time – transfigure something for you to practice on,' his cautiously said.

"No," came Harry's immediate reply, with as little as a thought to it. He knew what Riddle was capable of – and he knew what Riddle would do when possessing Harry's body. The stories that Ginny had told him about Tom after the Chamber of Secrets was enough to inspire instant distrust in Tom's objectives. Who knew? Harry was completely certain of Riddle's talents in magic – Riddle could, very well, use his body to betray his friends to Voldemort. If not that, than Riddle could easily begin to kill people until Harry was in the only place worse than his current location – Azkaban. And Harry wouldn't put it past him to try.

'You need to start trusting me, Harry. If I had wanted to, I could have spilled all your secrets to Voldemort by now,' Riddle sneered, 'but I haven't, and that should show for something.'

"So when I completely trust you, you're turn me over to Voldemort?" Harry snapped back.

'You underestimate me. If I had wanted to do that, then I would have done it by now,' he hissed. Harry, however, was beyond reason. He just felt so angry, like he could never feel anything, other than anger, again in his life. He ignored the burn in his scar – one Voldemort was enough to deal with at any given time.

"You want me for something, Riddle, don't pretend otherwise, so I'll warn you now, if you hurt any of my friends, I will kill you," Harry growled, his voice dangerously low. And he wasn't lying – Riddle knew it too. He was angry enough that, if anything managed to harm his friends, Harry would make sure Riddle paid.

'If I had wanted to hurt anyone, I would have done so by now! I could kill you, Potter, there is nothing stopping me!" His declaration not stopping anything, let alone Harry's fury, Harry replied with just as much, if not more, venom.

"Oh yeah? With what body?" He taunted bitterly. Suddenly, Harry's scar was on fire. A searing pain – millions upon millions of shards jabbing into the cut skin, all at once. Harry was screaming in pain, his vision blurry, blood leaking from his scar in a small stream...

Calloused hands were pulling at his own, dragging him up until Harry was standing. Cracking his eyes open, they widened in horror as familiar eyes looked back.

"This body," he said, softly now, staring intently back. His dark eyes scanned Harry's green ones and Harry felt as though his was under a microscope, being so thoroughly examined. He swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. Riddle was smirking cruelly, though Harry could see the faintest expressions of pain.

"How..." Harry wet his lips, "How did you manage to do that?" He asked eventually. He watched Riddle with the same curious fascination, his anger melting somewhere in the background as Riddle's soft, though human, voice replied ' magic'. Riddle's pale complexion was becoming increasingly paler – like he was simply fading into the background. Though his heart was beating erratically, Harry reached out to touch him.

The image of Riddle shattered.

-X-

Tom did not return to Harry's mind, no matter how much he wished to. This would be his first time out of Harry's mind in his fifteen years of existence, and the atmosphere of the situation did nothing to comfort his nerves. There was an uncomfortable tug on the edge of his conscious, trying to pull him back to his place in Harry's mind, though he did not give in. The pain, in the end, would be worth it. He felt that it would do not good to return - Harry would not welcome him back with open arms and it would be best if he just left until the information had time to sink in, along with the discomfort of losing a part of himself.

Though what he couldn't deny was the feeling of satisfaction his corporal visit had left him with. Harry's unwavering anger was not the emotion he would have chosen to use in order to create that body. No, his irrational decision was a stupid one at that. He just hoped Harry had enough trust not to block him in the future. He was, however, pleasantly surprised – he didn't think he would be able to control himself if Harry had actually hit him, nor could he have guaranteed not hurting the boy later as punishment. Hurting Harry would not bring him closer, of course.

And so, as he slipped further into Voldemort's - his – mind, he tried to ignore the difference between the two minds. In his mind, things felt darker, slower, more hazy and just plain wrong. In Harry's mind, everything just seemed more. No matter how many bad things the kid had lived through, it didn't effect his view on life. Everything in Harry's mind was colourful; bright, amazing.

Looking out from Voldemort's eyes, Tom was surprised to see a man, his nose large and looked and his hair a greasy black. From foreign memories, Tom was able to make out the character as one of his spies, Severus Snape, a tremble running throughout his body.

"Any news, Severus?" Voldemort hissed slowly, dragging out the sounds. He had his point pointed at Severus, between the eyes, and was beginning to mutter a spell Tom only knew too well.

Tom began to murmur a spell of his own; one he had just used before with Harry. The words were hissed out not in English, but in Parseltongue, and as the spell came to a close, Tom navigated his way through Voldemort's mind until he found what he was looking for – emotion. Enough emotion to draw from that would create a corporal form – Tom lapped at it, appearing beside Voldemort a moment later, his corporal form much stronger than before with Harry. Then again, Harry's anger had only just been strong enough to project himself into a full body.

With an amused smirk at Severus' horrified face, he pulled up the hood of a dark cloak.

-X-

Harry remained planted where he was, hand outstretched, expression dazed. Riddle had just been there – standing in front of him, the moment before. He could even feel the bruise on his arm beginning to form!

And yet... it seemed that Riddle had disappeared. Completely disappeared, that is. He could no longer feel the familiar touch of Riddle's mind on his own – the cool supervision he used to provide, or anything. Riddle was simply... gone.

"Riddle?" Harry called out meekly, feeling uncomfortable at the lack of the other's presence. The room was silent around him, looking more deathly white than it ever had, the silence more unbearable than it had ever been...

He suddenly gasped, clutching his head, fearful and confused. He had never felt so bare – so naked – in his entire life. It was like a part of him had been stripped away, until he was thrown into a room for all the world to see. Curling up on the bed, he tugged his glasses off and mindlessly threw them to the floor – too far gone to hear the thud they made on the ground with little care of their condition. Riddle's face was still in the bright of his mind; handsome, thought not the handsome of his youth, smiling, though his grin was malicious, his eyes shinning, even through the blood colour. And simply there. Alive. Breathing.

Harry's own breathing was slowing down now, not entirely against his will, as his eyes began to shift shut. That night, he fell asleep with a frown on his face, thoughts of Riddle still lingering in his mind.

"Severus... show me your mind," Voldemort asked quietly, staring down at Harry's former potions professor. Snape had his eyes glued to the ground, no doubt wanting to hide from the twisted, snake-like creature he serves so unwillingly, and Harry couldn't blame him. There was something about Voldemort's air that sent shivers down his spine and his mind reeling with fear.

Ignoring the pain in his scar, Harry looked around, noticing he was not the only one watching. From a distance, on the other side of Voldemort, was the man in the dark cloak he had encountered on a number of occasions, all dream-related. The man, however, was not looking at Harry – he was staring back at Voldemort and Snape with unmissable interest. Coping his example, Harry turned back to the scene before him, and was greeted with the sight of Voldemort's pale hand reaching out to Snape's face, tilting it up until they were locked, eye to eye.

"You will obey me, Severus," hissed Voldemort, "or else."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied, hands clenched at his side. Voldemort smiled from above him, the skin stretching over the bone in an unattractive manor until Harry was looking away, disgust written on his face.

" Legilimens!" He suddenly cried, pointing his wand at the pale-faced Snape, though Harry was perfectly sure he didn't need a wand. After hearing Riddle talk about the wandless imperio, it would not surprise him if Voldemort could cast a wandless, non-verbal legilimens (then again, his only experience with the legilimens spell was the brief time of his fifth year, as Snape prepared him to ward off Voldemort's attacks). He supposed the reptilian man did it for an effect of fear, which seemed to work. Snape was taunt with rage and fear.

Everything stopped in a tense silence – all eyes were on Voldemort as the expression twisted from anger, to rage, to fury, to... Voldemort cried out with his unsurpassed rage, the room exploding from his anger, in sync with the stab of pain in his scar. Harry fell to the floor, clutching the painful skin, not noticing as the world disappeared from around him.

Good news, my faithful, I've pre-planned some chapter and things are actually going to start happening. And better yet, I've started. And just ignore anything that doesn't make sense. I can't remember if Harry always looked out Voldemort's eyes in dreams (which he probably does because that seems logical), but I needed Harry to notice something. Oh, and that dream will probably be important to remember. It'll be explained just what Voldemort saw in the next chapter, which has been named 'The Seventh Horcrux'. Can anyone guess what's going to happen?

Cassandra: Don't worry, Dumbles doesn't want to kill Harry, he just can't see a way around his problem without doing so. Thanks, but it was pretty bad... it's just, you know, one of those chapters. Hopefully this is better? The man Voldie killed said 'nothing for you down there' referring to the forest, of course, there was something for our dearest Voldie there. School... damn, damn school. French isn't that bad, is it? Sadly, the only language other than English I can speak is French... and it's not much. What's your first language?

~ Shinning (I rather like that, actually).