A/N: Thank you for the kind words, everyone. I'm still not much closer to a diagnosis but it seems to be a neurological condition that's messing up the signals that my brain is receiving from my eyes. Finding doctors who know what to do has been tricky. Chapters are coming, so I haven't abandoned anything, it's just that I'm very slow going with my drafts to prevent strain. I have holidays in July where I can hopefully get some larger chapters out.

Some people have commented on Harry's formality, part of it is him not speaking English in Arda (therefore not speaking naturally) and the other is something that'll be seen later. As for the rest, I'm hesitant to comment for fear of the plot being spoiled.

Chapter 11 - Reminiscence

"I can't bloody believe what I just heard." Dark eyes watched Harry pace back and forth in front of a raging fire within Gryffindor's common room. "He's completely mental. Why in Merlin's name would he even remotely think about giving his magic away? No one does that. Apart from you of course. Can't keep your bloody soul to yourself like a normal person," Harry snarled, shooting Tom a particularly nasty look.

"I hardly see why it's so surprising an offer." Fingers steepled, Tom glanced back.

"Of course you don't. You ripped yourself into eight pieces trying to cheat death for a war that finished before you even needed it," Harry fired back, breathing heavily. The shattered remains of Tom Riddle sank more deeply into his winged armchair and lifted a glass of richly coloured whiskey to his mouth, sipping it mildly. "What exactly are you so calm about?" Harry snapped.

"I am simply reflecting on how little has changed over the years," Tom remarked. Harry looked the same as he always had since the day of inhabitance. Forever seventeen, glasses perched haphazardly on his nose in the mental landscape without their usual Concealment Charm to hide their presence as was the case in the real world. Affected aloofness gone in the privacy of his own mind. "Your response to uninvited possession is much the same as it was when you first realised that I was here."

"Possession?" Harry blinked. "Nothing I saw here indicated that possession is the same here as it is back home."

"The rules operate differently here," the Dark Lord sighed and lightly waved a hand. "Magic is adhered strictly to the soul and never do the two split which is why Morgoth never achieved the ability to grant souls. To grant magic for him is to grant a portion of his own soul, not the creation of a new one. To grant a soul is to grant magic. There is no difference between the two as there is in our case. Granting the totality of the magic would grant the totality of the soul."

"That sneaky bastard wants to use me as a Horcrux." Tom smirked at Harry's expression of outrage. "What the hell is wrong you people?"

"You people?" Tom repeated dangerously.

"The Dark Lords of the world who want their soul anywhere but actually in their body," Harry said, waving a hand irritably. "What's the logic? Do you all seriously think people won't say no?"

"My placement of soul inside you was hardly deliberate. We would have carried our grudge into death were it not for my miscalculation. Morgoth has other motives." Tom swirled the rich amber liquid around his glass, eyes tracking the movement. He saw Harry twitch.

"Why are you so relaxed? This is a major bloody problem." Harry threw himself into the opposite armchair and glared at him.

"Ah, so when it is convenient to you it becomes a problem. No, I intend to enjoy my first breath of unconfined air. You hardly ever allow me the opportunity to so much as remotely step outside let alone freely roam these halls." As Tom Riddle's quiet utterances spread, the world once again buckled and distorted and he looked skywards. "I suspect that without the damage you caused to yourself that it wouldn't otherwise be the case. I was pleasantly surprised to find the lock left unlatched."

"You're only in here because I can't use the tome for containment while I'm out cold. In case you hadn't noticed, I slammed head first in the cold, stone ground when I rolled off the bench. Those distortions are probably the guards trying to peel me off the floor. Why do you think he hardly got the words out before he took the punt? They rattled something upstairs and knocked him out before I could answer."

"So it's an act of convenience on your part then," Tom drawled. "Keeping me contained to prevent my escape to more important parts of the dwelling."

"Aren't you lucky," the boy said snidely.

"More to the point, Harry," Tom slid his glass along the coffee table, "the implications of what he is offering are substantially larger than what you realise." Harry snatched it mid movement and tossed it into the flames. It exploded in a shower of glass and sparks. For the moment the hand remained airborne and it trembled in the flickering light of the roaring flames. Red pinpricks dotted the hand even as it lowered.

"So he gets head space and I get stuffed around? Sounds typical."

"Quite to the contrary, Harry, he may believe there are mutual benefits involved." Tom smirked as Harry openly scoffed.

"You read the same book I did. This entire place went to hell after he piled his soul into it. Every grain of matter, every soul corrupted. Whether he's in me or otherwise, the moment he's whole we're dealing with a fully-fledged god on his home Quidditch pitch where he can warp reality. Even with the Compression Curse there's an extremely good chance that it'll take me with it while he's still attached." Harry was rolling his wand between his fingers.

"You are correct in this regard, but Morgoth only announced his intent once the Curse's potential was stressed to him..." Tom allowed the information to click into place.

"An insurance policy? Even if the world ripples away he thinks he'll be shielded inside me," the boy frowned. "I wouldn't be betting a Knut on that and I invented the damn spell. I'm not telling him that either."

"Not just that, but if we were to renege on our arrangement we would have no means available to remove such a deeply embedded soul from your person," Tom Riddle smiled sardonically and Harry shot a torrent of water at the Dark Lord which he batted away with a wave of his own. "He would be dragged along to our next destination and you would have access to his vast amount of information and power relating to this world. He seems to be expressing far too great an amount of restraint than one would expect from a powerless prisoner."

"I would love to accept a huge quantity of magic if he wasn't bloody cursed or likely to try for a hijacking. If you expect me to believe that he'd just sit there after his wonderful first impression and what he did to my hands the one time I let him guide magic then you're mental." Harry's features were framed in an unnatural shadow. Fidgeting, Harry remained twitching in his seat.

"I," Tom continued delicately, "am more concerned about his prospective ulterior motives for such a generous offer. A potential host is an obvious ploy."

"Remember the history of the bloke. He's not that different to you. Instead of bleeding his soul into the artefacts he bled it into the world he was meant to run," Harry scowled. Tom's eyes thinned to slits as red glistened though. His hand shimmered and a ripple skipped its length.

"Meaning?" Tom asked dangerously.

"It's obvious. He's found something more valuable than Arda, hasn't he? He never cared about this magical rock, only what he can do with it."

"You." It was only the boy's timely evasion that saved him. The grate before them exploded with concussive force, spraying all but Tom in flaming debris. Harry's silhouette showed him sheltering behind his winged armchair, splinters and shrapnel protruding dangerously close to his face.

"Do you mind?" Harry grumbled and the fire went out. "It's the logical conclusion. Arda only mattered if he could create life. He can't create here but I can. If he latches onto me he has a chance to have what he's always wanted," said Harry, waving a hand. The soot receded and the chair ejected the debris. "You didn't seem particularly bothered by his motivation before.

If Tom was entirely honest to himself, he hadn't been particularly bothered by the Dark Lord of Arda's offer in and of itself. No, it was the oozing tendrils of desperation and longing which repulsed him. The constant, fetid attempts of Morgoth to roll his essence over and into the walls of his host's soul through the doorway created by the crow simulacrum. The panic echoing even now resounding along the same link as the Dark Lord became aware of Harry's catatonic state. A hand clawed, nails sharpening, eyes burning resolutely away from Harry. The host in question was gazing at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry's mental impression was less confused than would have been appreciated.

"You're jealous," Harry said in wonder.

"How utterly absurd."

"Mate, you've had a part of your soul latched on to mine since I was ten months old. I know you better than you do and that is definitely jealousy. D'you think I'm going to get a new Dark Lord parasite and run off with him?" His foe failed to have the courtesy of even mocking him. Instead Harry's words had a disconcerted tint of mortification as the prospect had occurred to him. Unshielded and open, Harry's face was caught in the shifting of his own emotions, unable to settle on the most appropriate for the revelation.

"If you perish I perish with you, you fool," Tom snarled.

"This isn't about me getting myself killed. I've done stupider things and you've been less worried. Last time I saw this was when you lost Nag-" and it was here Harry froze, his jaw open in abject horror.

"Not another word. You're a vessel, no more, no less," he hissed through gritted teeth and the world bucked.

"Whatever you say, Tom," Harry said faintly, gazing upwards as the ceiling cracked. Tom's form distorted with the web of etches crossing the stone, the pretense rippling away. "Looks like we'll have to resume this when you're back in your cell since you'll be back to your old self in a minute."

White, followed by darkness. Voldemort shuddered, chained once more into the depths of Harry's Chamber of Secrets. A thousand spidery feet crossed his skin and he welcomed the empty shadows as his illusion shattered.

A plane away, Harry blinked, the urge to wretch rising within him as his head spun. A short silhouette hovered over him. "Hello Sam, is Frodo still occupied?" Harry slurred. "I just had the strangest dream… there was a raving lunatic in it and he actually made sense for once."

Sam's features were now clear enough to be called worried. "Are you alright, Mister Harry? He's talking to Gandalf."

"After the dream I just had foisted upon me, I very much doubt it."

"Mayhap if you went easier on the wine your dreams would be more pleasant," an older voice called from out of view.

"Speaking from experience, Aragorn?" Harry muttered. A scan revealed that he had been returned to his room, the borrowed library book still flopped forlornly upon the desk.

"I doubt they are as weathered as your own." Harry moved to roll in the man's direction, only for a pulsation of pain to ricochet through his skull.

Harry!

The sound of furious rustling emanated from the garden outside his window.

"Why is everything so loud? Stop. Bloody. Rustling!" Harry rolled over, wrapping his pillow around his ears and eyes. A pained caw floated through the window.

"The effect of drink has such an effect," Aragorn nudged.

"Here I was thinking it was the concussion."

"Uh, Mister Harry, can I get you anything?"

"Yes Sam, can you please bring me the other pillow?" As the pillow was guided over, Harry fumbled blindly with a single hand over his face, the frames of his invisible glasses biting into his temples. "I think I need to rest my eyes. I will be with you as soon as this headache passes."

"As you wish," Aragorn's voice smirked.

"Feel better!"

The padding footsteps of retreat and silence.

What? Harry snapped across the link. Visions of his window filled his closed eyes.

You disappeared. An almost childlike response from the resident god of evil.

I was knocked out, of course I bloody disappeared. The guards weren't exactly gentle either.

It was the King of Men, not the guards.

That smug bastard.

Another ruffle and hesitancy.

Have you… considered my offer?

Merlin, you aren't waiting on asking, are you? Harry groaned. Can we have this conversation later?

Is it truly so hard to decide? With a grunt and a whirl of colour they were gone.

Hogwarts was slightly worse for wear, patches of yellowed grass dotted the lawn and the castle itself was slightly translucent. Melkor was again Morgoth, towering crowned features concealed by him resting on his knees, a hand outstretched. Cautiously, Harry leaned over his perch on the gauntlet and looked downwards at the mess below.

"It's worse than I was expecting for a concussion," Harry shrugged to himself. Perspective shifted and he was lifted upwards, staring directly into the molten eyes of Arda's most prolific evil.

"You are avoiding an answer," Morgoth rumbled.

"There aren't many people in my position who'd be rushing for an answer. There's a lot to consider for what you're offering."

"Explain."

"You're bound to Arda and the rules of Eru. Anything you taint with your being also becomes bound to those rules. If you leave any part of you in me then we're both screwed. Your whole being, though? I don't even know if I'd survive the experience. We both want out. Neither of us can do that if you're long term upstairs." A searing series of breaths in and out. Another tremor and Harry was close enough to be inhaled by a giant nostril.

"I must free myself from Eru before you would consider it?" Harry felt the Dark Lord's voice rattle his ribs.

Harry sighed. "That's not quite what I'm saying. Even if you did somehow shrug off Eru, you're a mass of sentient soul and magic. There's no guarantee that I can hold you let alone co-exist with you."

"So, your preference is I find another form to inhabit as the risk is too great."

"Yeah," Harry said lamely to the Dark Lord's inscrutable features. "Not sure else how I'm meant to phrase it."

"A remarkably honest response. I will see what can be done. Recreation of forms has not always been available to us once destroyed, but with your assistance there will perhaps be a method to obtain what was once lost." Another breath and Harry blinked awake.

Dusk was long past, an owl hooted forlornly in the surrounding forest. Harry's eyes twitched as he adjusted to the pitch black of his room and the sudden weight on his chest. A thickly woven blanket had been tossed over him, rubbing gently against the tip of his nose. Then someone sneezed.

Harry bolted upright, red light gathering at his fingertips.

"Wait, Harry!" A familiar voice cried.

"Frodo?" The chair next to him was suddenly filled. Frodo's face, framed in bloody night, was drawn, a lip tugged upwards by teeth. Glinting, the ring was replaced beneath the hobbit's shirt. "Are you feeling well?"

"It depends on your definition of wellness, Mister Harry."

Harry groaned, the events of the council came rushing back in quick succession.

"I take it the council did not occur as well as would have been expected?"

Frodo fidgeted, hands gravitating towards the ring. "I took your advice and warned them about the ring's powers…" He explained haltingly.

"Go on," said Harry dangerously.

"Then I offered to carry it to Mount Doom for its destruction."

Harry's hand smacked into his own forehead with force. For a moment, he wondered how, until he felt familiar tendrils retreating to an equally familiar dank hole in his mental stronghold. "And what, exactly, convinced you to engage upon an act of such suicidal stupidity?" Harry asked, muffled by his still present hand.

"I wish to see the world, Harry. There is so much to see and life in Hobbiton lacked excitement," Frodo said earnestly.

"So instead of engaging upon this as a tourist, you instead choose to perform a task that, if it fails to kill you, will most certainly result in grievous harm to your mind and soul."

"I wish to help people by freeing them from the foul being in Mordor. Gandalf said that everyone has their role to play in the Ring's destruction."

"What about the other far more qualified people who should be freeing Middle-Earth from Sauron," – Frodo winced – "who are instead fleeing across the sea to avoid such a thing? Their wars with Morgoth singlehandedly resulted in the horrors the mortal races deal with now. Why do they not set it right?" Harry demanded, swinging himself into a sitting position. Hunched over his knees, he glared down at the far smaller being.

"This… upsets you," Frodo said in wonder.

"Of course it upsets me! You, effectively a child with no comprehension of the machinations of entities far above you, are being sent to your death because the others are too cowardly to risk themselves in doing what must done. They know exactly what is coming, which is precisely why they agreed to you taking on such a task. They prefer your loss to that of their own." Frodo leaned back in the face of Harry's heated snarl, the fire grate exploding into a cloud of swirling embers. Harry's shadow stretched and a figure formed within the flames, grasping fingers extending outwards to the conflict.

"Gandalf-"

"Is a liar and manipulator. He expects you to be the instrument of Sauron's destruction because Sauron cannot appeal to the inherent desire for power that taints so many of the older races. You cannot be swayed by Sauron's soul whispers of power and domination because you have no urge for it. You are too self-aware to be swayed by such tripe." Harry sliced his hand through the air and the grate combusted yet again. Frodo quailed and the flames receded. "Please, do not take this as an attack on you, but think carefully before you throw yourself to the wolves simply because some inept fool suggested it."

"You think Gandalf planned for this?" Frodo asked hesitantly.

"Him and others, including Elrond. They have been planning this for a substantial period of time. They never so much as contemplated of telling you their grand strategy or having you give informed consent. They expected you to walk blindly into what will be an inevitable possession for their greater good." Harry huffed, breathing heavily. Frodo's gaze fell.

Calm, Harry, lest you set the building aflame, Melkor chittered.

Who're you to be asking for calm? You tried to blow the planet up when the same thing happened to you.

He is set in his desires.

He doesn't understand what he's even agreeing to, he's going to end up a meat puppet.

Then provide him the same assistance you provide me. Cheat, for we cannot allow the bauble to be destroyed if we are to enlist Mairon.

Fine.

"Then… what would you suggest?"

"I would suggest, first of all, that something be done to prevent the Dark Lord of Mordor from engaging in his irregular residency inside your head. Souls should not be carried if they cannot be contained." An idea, piped in from a distant bathroom, came to mind and Harry smiled. "I will create a bag of holding that you can wear around your neck and it will hold the ring instead. It will insulate you from its influence."

By placing it in another dimension instead so it cannot reach the host. How fascinating, Melkor murmured. I wonder…

"You can do that?" Frodo's jaw sagged open.

"With ease. I can think of other measures as well, but the bag itself will be a great help." Thank you, Hermione. "I will be limited by my reluctance to travel, but you will be well prepared when you leave."

"Others are travelling with me-'

"Then they will need supplies as well," Harry said shortly, his tome wriggled back and forth in his sleeves, pages attempting to flap. "It will not take me overly long to create such supplies.

Harry watched Frodo's lips attempt to form words and fail. Frodo, without a fully formed word, stood and moved to the water jug, a steady stream of water pouring into two glass and returning to his side. "I really have no idea as to how I'm to repay you for it," Frodo said in a tiny voice, sipping slowly.

"The expression of horror on Gandalf's face will more than satisfactory."

"How about my house in Crickhollow? I doubt I will be having much use for it while I travel. You have my permission to use it as you see fit, but I fear the Black Riders may have damaged the property in their attempt to find me. Merry bought it for me and we used it as a decoy for when I left." Frodo said, Harry's previous comment brushed away.

Harry blinked, exchanging a mental side expression with both of the Dark Lords. "Really?"

"Certainly, you have saved my life on two occasions now and will continue to do so. Given your injuries, all I can offer is a place for you to rest. It is yours," Frodo stood, extending a hand for Harry to shake.

"For now. You will need to return and take it from my possession once you are done plaguing Mordor," Harry threatened.

Hands clasped, they smiled and shook firmly. The Ring of Power trembled.