It was the most amazing place Harry had ever seen.

Tents bathed in moonlight, fairy lights twining between paths and arcing overhead, lit signs guiding visitors along in a blazing array of colour. Beautiful music followed along on his heels. He stared around, eyes wide.

The Dursleys would have hated it. The magic of everything, the sheer fantasy in each of the tents, the way nothing here was normal. It was a place for freaks, so maybe that was what made it the perfect Halloween destination for a scrawny teenager with nowhere to belong in the world.

The circus had everything. Acrobats, illusionists, lion tamers, contortionists, men and women like animals, flame eaters, waterbenders, palm readers with sad, knowing eyes…

Harry had no money for candy floss plumes as large as his head, or for the sticky-sweet caramel apples on sticks, but just looking was enough.

Looking, and never wanting to leave the magnificence of it all.

The Circus of Riddles.
Open Halloween Night Only.

Harry had been told about the circus the night before. Handed a flyer and a ticket by a boy in the park.

Handsome, dark-eyed, charming.

They got on straight away.

It was late. The crowd was thinning, and Harry knew that he should be getting home. He just … well. This whole place was a maze of wonders. Every new tent he entered held something strange and fantastic, but he couldn't seem to find any of the old ones.

He tried heading back, but he must have gotten turned around somewhere, as the path he was on now was just as much of a mystery as the one before. He could find no way to retrace his steps.

He tried looking for someone to follow out, but before he realized it, before he'd even seriously thought about wanting to leave, the people around him had vanished.

All that remained were the acts.

The dancers kept dancing, the contortionists writhed in the air like distorted angels. The magic of it all kept flowing around him ceaselessly. No sign of an end to the show.

And he still hadn't seen Tom at all.

"Excuse me," he asked as politely as possible. "Do you know the way out?"

They pointed.

Harry hesitated, pressed for more information – but all they did was point. Point and stare at him, silent tragedy writ upon their faces.

Harry swallowed thickly. The first trickle of fear crept down his spine. He told himself that he was being ridiculous.

He set out nonetheless, and kept moving in that direction as much as possible, every so often asking again to confirm his path.

The tents and acts seemed no more familiar to him than the others he'd passed, but Harry hoped that maybe he was just taking a different path to the exit.

He eventually came to a larger tent, set apart from the others. He wetted his lips, glanced back the way he came, before pushing aside the hangings and stepping inside.

It was full of mirrors, like a funhouse. He could glimpse distorted reflections, flashes of things out of the corner of his eyes that could have been himself or something else just as easily.

"Hello?"

He pushed on boldly, shoulders squaring with determination. He was probably overreacting – he'd find a way out eventually, or someone would show him. The circus couldn't be that big, it didn't look it from the outside.

It was disorientating. He often found his palms hitting glass, instead of a path, and saw his own frightened eyes and pale face looking back at him more than a few times. He ended up keeping one hand against the wall to track his movements.

He ran, breathing heavily, heart pounding faster and faster until – he broke air, and felt the tension fade from his shoulders.

"Tom…"

The boy was lounging on a throne in the middle of the hall of mirrors, top hat jaunty on his head and a smirk on his lips.

"Hello, Harry," the other boy purred. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah – yeah, it's been great," Harry said, stepping closer. "I'm afraid I'm a little lost now, though."

"Oh no, you're exactly where you're supposed to be, I assure you."

Harry's brow furrowed at that. Tom's circus crop tapped against the floor in time with his heartbeat, quick and frantic, getting faster as Harry's unease returned.

The other boy pushed himself up with the crop, before sauntering towards him.

"You told me, Harry –" The crop swished in the air as Tom continued. He could feel it pressing into his back, guiding him closer step by step until their bodies were pressed together. "That you may as well disappear, for no one would ever notice." The older boy brushed his fringe away from his forehead.

It finally occurred to Harry to take a step back. Then another. The mirrors flashed at him from every side, and when he glanced at the six main ones surrounding the throne – he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Tom stared at him from all of them, a smile on his – their? – lips.

"You can't keep me here," Harry said, mouth running utterly dry. Tom's smile just broadened, an impish curve to his lips, as he advanced on him leisurely.

"It's magical, isn't it? My circus?"

"Your circus?" Harry's eyes widened. The rest took the split second after to register. "As in – no. Magic's not real. It must be some kind of trick."

That was what the Dursleys had always told him. There was no such thing as magic, as much as Harry might have wished it sometimes.

"You wanted to get away from your family, Harry. And I've seen how they treat you. You can stay here with us instead. With me," Tom crooned, following after him. "I'd want you. You're delectable … I could just eat you up."

It was mad. Just mad. Harry fled the Hall of Mirrors, the sound of the ringmaster's laughter echoing in his ears.

The tents had changed when he went through them next.

Gone was the air of wonder. Though something of the quality remained, the performers now had cruel smiles and crueller eyes and – someone was screaming.

Harry whipped around, following the sound with the urge to help. To find out what was going on. To get out and escape … anything! What had seemed fun before, was now just monstrous and sinister.

He saw a girl getting dragged by some unseen force into a tent, body writhing along the ground as she thrashed.

A boy was being twirled between the contortionists, spinning faster and faster in an ever giddier dance until his bones snapped and they fell on his broken body with greedy sounds.

Everywhere, the circus visitors who lingered appeared to be suffering similar fates.

Worst of all, Harry had no idea how to help them.

He carried on, sprinting with no real sense of direction, until he felt somebody grab hold of his arm. He rounded on them, ready to attack, only to come face-to-face with a red-haired girl with terrified eyes. One of the dancers.

"Have you eaten anything?" she demanded. The question took him aback, and she gave him a shake.

"No," Harry managed.

"Come with me. You still have a chance. This way." She dragged him along a pathway, keeping to the shadows. He had little choice but to follow. The sound of screaming faded behind them.

"What's happening?" Harry asked breathlessly. "Who are you?"

"It's a fairy ring," she said. "How can you not know that? Have humans forgotten?"

Harry's brain froze. A … fairy ring?

She must have caught something on his face. "A circus. Modern day fairy ring." She continued to tug him along, pressing him against the wall of a tent at any signs of movement ahead. "If you'd eaten something, you'd be truly lost. Even if you got out, no mortal food could compare. You wouldn't be able to stomach it; it would kill you. We need to get you out before dawn. Once the sun rises, no mortal will ever be able to see you and you'll never be able to leave."

"Who are you?" Harry whispered. "Why are you helping me? You're – aren't you a fairy?"

"I haven't been in Riddle's court as long as most. And how do you imagine the circus gets its performers?" She met his eyes.

Harry's insides ran cold.

"They're all people he took?"

"Interrupt a fairy ring on Samhain, and dying young might just be the kindest fate you will get. I was cursed to dance to death – or madness. It depends which fairy takes you," she said hollowly. "Who was yours?"

"Tom," he said. Harry wetted his lips when she gave him a look askance. "He said this is his circus."

She abruptly stopped, staring at him, before recoiling as if scalded.

"The Fey King."

Harry suddenly felt contagious.

"I'm guessing that's bad?"

She was shaking, utterly pale.

"He has a room of mirrors. He sees everything that goes on. He already knows I'm helping you – he must. And he knows exactly where we are – I'm sorry," she cried. "He's playing with you."

"Seeing doesn't mean touching," Harry tried. "If he's far away, with his mirrors…"

She shook her head, backing away, looking at him with the most awful pity. Then her eyes slid behind him.

Harry knew instantly what must have caught her attention.

Cool arms slid around his torso, tight as chains. Lips brushed against his neck, with a hint of sharp teeth behind.

"I'm everywhere and nowhere, Harry. Just like your reflection. Begone, little weasel. Before I lose my patience."

She disappeared.

Harry immediately began struggling viciously. Clawing, biting, whatever he could think of. Then there was another one of Tom – whether real or shade, he didn't know.

The second after that, there was another, and another. Not quite an unseen force, perhaps not even truly there at all, but nonetheless they were enough to restrain him. Harry was bound and dragged back, thrown forward on his knees before the throne.

Pale fingers threaded into his hair, as Harry glared up furiously at the fey prince.

"Toffee apple?"

He kept his mouth shut, teeth clenched, remembering what the girl had said. Maybe … just maybe, if he didn't eat anything, this would all turn out okay.

Somewhat unnervingly, Tom simply smiled again, and the riding crop teased over his lips. Harry would have spat insult, betrayal, if he dared open his mouth.

Tom let go of his hair so he could pluck up a frankly delicious-looking toffee apple from a silver platter by his side. The fairy held it tantalizingly before him, eyebrow raising, before taking a bite, tongue flicking out to swipe the sweet juice from his lips.

Harry swallowed, scowled, and looked away.

Tom gave a long-suffering sigh. The reflections rippled again, the shades stepping out.

"Make sure he eats something," the ringmaster said. "I'd hate to be accused of offering a trick without a treat. In fact –" There was a cruel gleam to Tom's eyes as their gazes met. "Isn't Halloween the day you eat so many sweets that you feel sick?"

The reflections swarmed him.

It was Halloween Night.

The Circus of Riddles had appeared once more out of the darkness and the mist, an enticing display of glittering lights and inviting smells, dazzling displays and stunning feats, meant to awe and impress any traveller that was coaxed into its ring.

Harry would have been happy once again to never to eat anything sweet again.

His lips were sticky with toffee apples, candy floss, and a delectable array of chocolates.

And of course Riddle, bastard that he was, kept plying him with more.

Harry had a feeling he got some type of sick satisfaction about mimicking the events of last year. A macabre reminder of his circumstances.

Since the girl – Ginny – had been taken by a fairy of revelry, she'd been cursed to dance until she dropped – unable to stop, like a puppet twitched on strings.

Maybe she'd been lucky. It wasn't just humans who feasted on Halloween.

But the Fey King demanded so much more than that.

He demanded everything. A thousand different mirrors and a thousand different roles for him to play, eternally reflected in a cold world of glass … lover, jester, servant, pet. Every inch of his performance was scrutinized for fault, and Harry had learned early on that fault was not tolerated.

It all depended on Riddle's mood, and much like his name suggested, his mood could change by the minute.

The crop tapped idly as he was clutched close to the Fey King's chest. Tom was seemingly languid now, but for the wicked sharpness in his eyes. Blood-red ribbons wrapped tight around Harry's wrists as he tried not to squirm. Not much else for a costume left.

He hadn't seen anything human since he first got here, certainly not his old clothes.

Tom kissed his neck with sweet lips, nipping at his ear.

"Will you impress me tonight, Harry?" the Fey King teased. "I'd hate to have to eat you if you don't find me a suitable substitute."

Harry stared stiffly ahead, cheeks flushed.

"I always impress you."

Tom laughed at that.

He wondered if the Dursleys had ever expected him to join the freak show quite so literally.

Soon the place would be swarming with hapless lost souls and soon-to-be victims, and the performances would begin.

And the fairy ring would stain with blood.

A/N: I don't know if I ever posted this on FFN, but anyway. Much like with Siren Song, it is a little triplet of three chapters that I am posting here from A03. It started out as a oneshot, and much like Siren Song has been expanded as per numerous requests given through my writing tumblr. See paper-ramblings if you guys are curious. There's various oneshots and snippets there that I don't post anywhere else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story! As always, I would love your feedback, whether constructive or not.