A/N:

I've updated! I know; I'm just as surprised as you are! Lol

Spread the word loud and clear: This fanfic story isn't dead! It has been on Hiatus for over a year, but I'm back now, continuing on to write more chapters.

Thank you so much for all of the lovely revieiws/favs/alerts this story continued to receive over the long break! – Reply to reviews are in the end A/N! I'm so happy that so many people like this story! It's received over 160 "Follows" and over 100 "Favs"! Yay! :)

So sorry for the extremely long wait you guys all had to endure for this update; lots of stuff has happened in the last year since the last chapter/update. Life in general and concentrating on a different fanfic are the prime reasons for the delay.

Anyway, enough from me, here's the next chappie for you all to read. :)

Sorry about incorrect spelling and grammar!

Disclaimer: If I said I owned Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling would probably sue against me. So, I cannot say that I do own Harry Potter or any relating characters; J. K. Rowling owns them.

The Power Of Love
Written by mpkio2

Chapter 6
Asking Questions

Cackling…

Wild, joyous cackling erupted in Harry's mind…

It was cold, dark, inhuman…

Voldermort….

'I have you now, Harry Potter,' A snake- like voice echoed all around him.

A green speck of lightning flashed within Harry's mind-eye.

No, he thought. Not now, Voldermort. Not now...

"Harry," He heard a voice callout to him. "Harry, wake up!"

Harry's eyes shot open like a lightning bolt, seeing the familiar faces of Ron and Hermione looking down at him, worry and concern etched into their faces.

"Guys?" Harry asked in a perplexed voice, not knowing where he was and how he ended up in this position; it felt like he was lying down on a bed…and…what was this weight on top of him? It felt light….warm….comforting…

What was it?

Or better, who was it?

"Oh Harry, thank Merlin you're awake!" Herminie burst out in a relieved voice.

"What-happened?" Harry asked in groggy voice, trying his best to catch his breath, feeling as though he had ran a mile around the school grounds. Not only was his breathing erratic, but his forehead was dripping with sweat, Harry realized as his fingers touched his sticky skin, all signs that The Boy Who Lived had experienced another one of his "Connection Black-Outs" that he and the Dark Lord seemed to share between each other.

"That's what we wanna ask you mate," Ron said, his eyes fixed on his friend's forehead, Harry noticing where his friend was looking, hoping both Ron and Hermione couldn't see any of the obvious signs of his experienced connection with Voldermort; he hadn't shared a connection with the Dark Lord in some time, but when it happened, Ron and Hermione where close to notice. "You just suddenly got this strained look on your face and screamed-"

"I screamed?" Harry asked, his cheeks tinging pink in embarrassment.

Ron nodded. "Loudly and all," To Harry's dismay, Ron's words only deepened the color in his cheeks. "And then you just fainted on the floor,"

"It was him, wasn't it?" Hermione asked in a hushed whisper, sitting down beside Harry. "You had another connection with Voldermort, didn't you Harry?"

Harry sighed deeply, his head looking down to his clothes, knowing he couldn't hide it any longer from his friends, slowly lifting himself into a sitting position on the bed he sat upon. But before he could reveal anything to them, he was shocked and surprised to see who was lying on top of him.

There, sleeping on Harry's front, clutching tightly to Harry's robes was little Tom, snoring softly, a thumb in his mouth. Harry felt a calming, soothing sensation wash over him as he looked upon the peaceful sleeping form of the child. He was adorable and it warmed Harry's heart, controlled his breathing to normal, the sweat on his forehead seeming to vanish.

"Why is he-?" Harry began to ask as he looked down from the sleeping child to Ron and Hermione above him, a confused expression on his face.

"He didn't want to leave you," Hermione said in a soft voice, a gentle smile gracing her features as she looked down at Tom, sitting beside Harry on his bed. "When you fainted to the floor, he became scared and frightened and practically scramble towards you in a flash. Madam Promfrey and Professor McGonagall tried to separate the two of you, but he wouldn't budge. We decided to let him stay with you, seeing as his wounds were healed,"

"I guess the healing potion I gave him really did the job, huh?" Harry asked, more to himself than to his friends, looking down to the sleeping boy with green shimmering eyes. "He looks content,"

"I think he likes you Harry," Hermione said in a controlled voice, trying her best not to squeal at the "adorable-ness" of the pair; they were like brothers! Heck, they ever shared the similar shade of green in their eyes! But Hermione knew better than to show that side of herself to the boys; she was an intellect and as such had to act with more dignity. But still, she couldn't help but to smile.

"Gee, what gave you that idea, Hermione?" Ron asked in a sarcastic voice, rolling his eyes. "Its obvious the kid likes Harry,"

"I know that, Ron," Hermione snapped at the ginger head. "I was just implying how…sweet it is," Hermione finished with flushed cheeks. "Oh what am I saying?" She suddenly cried, whipping her head a little. "Harry, tell us: it was…Voldermort, wasn't it? You fainted because of the connection…"

Tom stirred a little down in Harry's lamp, mumbling something Harry couldn't decipher, though he was sure he heard the child say: "Har-wry". Remember what Hermione had asked, he decided to answer:

"Yeah, it was because of him,"

"Another connection with the Dark Lord, you say, Potter?" Came the brisk voice of Professor McGonagall, all eyes looking in her direction as she approached the trio of teens. "What happened? What did you see?"

Feeling a little apprehensive and rather wanting to tell Ron and Hermione in the comfort of their own privacy, Harry reluctantly answered McGonagall's questions.

"It wasn't a matter of what I saw, but rather of what I felt,"

"And what did you feel, Potter?"

"Happiness," Harry said, the word not fitting right in his mouth; he was speaking about Voldermort after all! "He's really, really happy! I don't know why….it's just what I felt…"

"Anything else?" Professor McGonagall asked in a strong tone, wanting to know anything else Harry might know of, any detail that might hint of Voldermort's intentions and plans. "Anything at all, Potter?"

"Green lightning," Harry replied, remembering the vividly of the green lightning that flung his way, only able to reflect it and protect himself through the strength of his will. "Voldermort…in the connection…he cast green lightning towards me,"

"The Avada-Kadava curse," Hermione muttered, everyone looking to her. "It had to have been that curse...there are, of course, many other spells and enhancements that are the color green, but only the Avada-Kadava curse properties are that of "lightning", that is what distinguishes between others,"

"That explains why you awoke in a sweat, mate," Ron pointed out as Harry felt Tom squirm beneath him; it seemed as though Tom's peaceful sleeping had come to an abrupt end and was now experiencing what all children of his age feared; their dreams. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to kill you,"

"Not like it's the first time he tried to do that," Harry ruffled lightly, looking down to the fidgeting toddler.

"Harry, this is serious!" Hermione cried, angrily. "Volder-mort…this whole connection of what you saw…it could be a sign of some sort…a sign which we must decrypt if we ever want to hunt down the Horocruxes and defeat Voldermort,"

"Miss Granger is indeed correct, Potter," McGonagall said with a nod of the head. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is growing ever stronger. Dumbledore left you a mission to uptake and it is your duty to continue his work,"

"I know," Harry said in a dark voice. "I know what Dumbledore had left me to do and I know how important it is; I haven't forgotten any of it….not for a second, the images of him falling off the tower over and over again,"

"Har-wy?" A small voice called from Harry's lap, alerting the teen to look down, seeing the tired eyes of Tom, who rubbed his eye with his small hand, rubbing the sleep away. "You OK?"

"Hey kiddo," Harry greeted Tom awake, placing a hand on the toddler's messy black hair. "Had a nice sleep?"

A grimaced face told Harry a mixture of feelings. "Yeah," The toddler lied, Harry feeling him tremble somewhat beneath his touch. Was his dream really that bad? Maybe he should ask? No not yet; he had other things to deal with.

"The child comes first," Harry said in a strong voice, looking up to his friends. "We will embark on our adventure soon," he promised, looking to Ron and Hermione. "But for now, my prime goal is to find out who this child is and where he comes from,"

Professor McGonagall sighed, a battle ground of emotions and rational thinking ragged within her heart and mind. Once her hand whipped away from her head, the war was over. "OK, Potter," she settled. "I trust you know what you are doing, that you know of things that are at stake,"

"I do," Harry confirmed with her with a nod and a serious expression. "Don't worry Professor, I can't forget,"

"I'm glad to hear it, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, Harry sure he saw but a small smile on her brisk face. "Now, about the child…" she started, looking down to Tom who looked up to all the people who surrounded him, a scared expression on his little face, pulling towards Harry's front as though wanting protection from the teen. "It seems as though he…"

"Tom…" Harry said, thinking it best to at least tell Professor McGonagall all he knew of the child in his laps, finding himself not liking how McGonagall was referring to him as "the child". "His name is Tom,"

"Is that all you've learnt?" Professor McGonagall inquired. A nod from Harry answered her. "I see. Well Potter, seeing how the chil- Tom – has a strong attachment to you, I think it will be beneficial for us if you ask him a few questions; where he's from, how he came about on the castle grounds, but please try to be discreet in your questioning. Just try your best, and when you have answers, come to me and I will take it from there,"

"Wha-? Me?" Harry stammered out, never in his life being asked to look after a child; what was he to do? How was he to talk to him? What if he started crying out of nowhere? "But I-"

"Har-wy?" Came the small voice of Tom on his lap, Harry looking down to see two green-filled eyes of pure trust. "You not goanna leave, are you? What about…" And Tom lifted his little finger in front of him.

Harry knew what he meant at once. He smiled and put his own little finger around Tom's.

"Your right, Tom," Harry said in a strong voice, not knowing where this sudden urge of determination was coming from; a Gryffindor through and through, he thought to himself. "A promise is a promise,"

"Potter," Professor McGonagall called, gaining Harry's attention once more, head up looking to her. "I'll leave the rest to you. It is a school day after all and I have matters to attend to. Please come to my office and give me a full account of what has been said,"

"Yes Professor," Harry said with a nod, understanding what he had to do.

"Well then, I will see you soon," Professor McGonagall was about to take her leave out of the Hospital Wing, but she suddenly stopped herself when she looked upon the figures of Miss Granger and . "And you two should get to lessons,"

"But Harry-" Ron started only to be cut off by McGonagall.

"-has a job to do which I assigned him. You two however have classes to attend,"

Feeling rather gutted they couldn't stay by Harry's side and give him moral support, Hermione and Ron both bid their goodbyes to their friend ("See ya later Harry. Tell us all about it when you see us," Ron said, "Bye Harry. I know you can do this," Hermione said) and left the Hospital Wing with MgGonagal at their heels. The doors closed and Harry and Tom were left alone in the room.

Before either could utter a word, the sound of a door opening caught their attention, Tom jumping slightly in a startled faze, holding tightly to Harry's robes.

"Ah, still here are you?" Madam Promfrey said in mild enthusiasm, exiting her office, briskly walking down the Hospital Wing and to a bed opposite Harry, starting to take off the crisp clean bed sheets replacing them with a set of new ones she had in her arms. "I thought you would have left by now, Potter, seeing how you spent most of your time in the last six years in this very room,"

"Don't remind me," Harry replied with a light chuckle. "I won't to leave this room as soon as possible," It was no secret that Harry hated the Hospital Wing; heck, even Madam Promfrey knew his dislike for the room and she didn't seem to mind. "But…I need to ask Tom here a few questions first,"

"Ah yes, Tom, how is the child?" Madam Promfrey asked as she puffed out a pillow and placed it back on the bed sheets; Harry thought it was a very tedious task she was trying to get through; no matter how many times Harry laid his head on a pillow, it was always the same; hard and lumpy.

"I think his good," Harry answered, looking down to Tom, who seemed to be snoozing against Harry's front. "It seems as though potion really worked. Thanks Madam Promfrey,"

"All in the job, Potter," Madam Profrey replied as though it was protocol to say such a thing, but Harry could tell that she greatly appreciated the compliment. "All in the job. I should warn you that the potion has a mild side-effect of making the patient a little drowsy, but he'll be OK by the end of the day,"

And sure enough, Tom was back to sleep. Harry sighed deeply; how was he supposed to get any questions out of the kid when he was in this state. McGonagall trusted him with this! He couldn't turn up with nothing!

"That's good and all, but I need him awake now," Harry said, slowly nudging Tom on the shoulder. "Tom? Tom you need to wake up; I need to ask you some questions, OK?"

"No…" He heard a mumble from the child. "No…stay…away…"

Startled by the words escaping Tom's mouth, Harry nudged him a little harder with more force. Tom looked as though he was having another nightmare, starting to squirm a little and holding tighter on to Harry's robe; was this a daily occurrence?

"Tom, wake up," Harry said loudly. "It's just a dream,"

"No…he's…got…me…." The child's voice had come to a normal volume, Harry now able to hear every word said, not liking at all what he was hearing. "Help me!" Tom yelled. "P'wease, help!"

Harry placed a soft hand on Tom's hair and started to stroke his hair, smoothly; he didn't know why he was did this and what made him do it; all he knew was that something told that this was the best thing he could for now.

Tom's eyes opened at once, his eyes darting all around him, quickly backing away from Harry and on to the white sheets beneath. He didn't know where to turn to, what to do, looking freighted and scared out of his little mind.

"Tom, it's me," Harry said in a soft voice, his green eyes looking upon the child, a hand reaching out to touch the boy. But he was surprised when Tom flinched away, recoiled and sank his head into his lap.

"No!" He exclaimed in a shaky voice. "P-wease….d-don't…h-hurt me…didn't…m-mean….i-it…"

Harry looked up to Madam Promfrey, who looked at the child with sad eyes. Not wanting for Tom to feel afraid and distraught, Harry slowly approached the child and wrapped his arms around him, engulfing him at once. Tom resisted at first, but when Harry stroked his hair softly, he calmed down immensely.

"You OK?" Harry asked, calmly.

Tom nodded, his head down, wiping his eyes with his hands and slowly rising to look at Harry with wet green eyes. "Ha-wry…"

"It's OK, Tom," Harry said in a soft voice, continue to stroke the toddler's hair. "Nothing can hurt you now," Harry heard nothing else from the child; he did, however, lean against Harry for comfort. "What was the dream about?"

Harry felt a shake of the head. "Don wanna say…"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked the child. "talking about stuff can help,"

There was a small silence before Harry felt the answer from the boy; a shake, a no. "OK then," If the kid didn't want to tell Harry anymore, all he could do was respect Tom's decision. Speaking of answering questions…

"Tom," Harry said in a soft voice, pulling the boy away from his chest so he could look into his eyes. "I need to ask you a few questions, if that's OK with you?"

A hesitant nod.

"I'll leave you to it, Potter," Harry heard Madam Promfrey call as she walked down the Hospital Wing to her office. "I'll change that bed once you leave," And with a "Slam1" from her office door, she was gone. She left in quite a hurry, Harry realized; in fact, she hadn't even changed some of the beds which were left unoccupied. And her face…that expression she held of sadness; did she know something of Tom that she was withholding from Harry?

"Haw'ry…" Tom's curious voice pulled Harry back to reality, his eyes looking down into the toddler's. "What quesdums you ask me?"

Right, Harry thought. I need to ask him…

"Just some questions about you," Harry replied calmly. "We need to know more about you so we can get you safely home to your family," At this being said, a crest-fallen expression crossed Tom's small face, his head looking down. "Tom?"

"Don have famwy," Tom mumbled in a sad voice. "Don have home," Harry really felt for the kid; he looked absolutely sad…alone…as if there was not one person in the world he who was looking out for him; Harry knew that feeling all too well, thanks to his abusive relatives, The Durseleys, he literally treated Harry as nothing but a slave throughout his childhood years, a shiver running down the wizard's back upon remembering such horrid memories.

"Then where do you live?" Harry asked, unaware of the small frown on his lips. "Where do you eat and sleep?"

"Orph'wanage," Tom answered, his tone a little dark. "Hate it," Harry could actually see the child starting to tremble, but not in fear…in anger. "Hate it lot,"

"Why Tom?" Harry asked, hoping an answer from the child, but, at the same time, didn't count on one. If Tom's experience's where anything like Harry's, he was sure the child wound not dare say a word, through both shame, anger and fear. Even at a small age, even Harry found it difficult to trust people so easily…

But then…

Why…?

Why was Tom able to speak so openly to Harry and not the others? What compelled the child to trust Harry so?

He trusted him, didn't he? Tom obviously liked Harry, that much could be said, the evidence seen through the interaction the child shared with the teen…but did he trust him?

When no answer muttered from the toddler's mouth, head still down, eyes downcast to white sheets, Harry sighed expecting the non-verbal answer he received, his initial thoughts and ideas about Tom's feelings towards the orphanage being realized. No, Tom didn't trust him…not enough, anyway, to tell Harry the horrid things that occurred at the orphanage. What could have possibly happened in that place which made the child so mute?

"What's the orphanage called, Tom?" Harry asked, thinking it best to at least get some information out of the kid. "Do you know?"

Tom shook his head. "No," the boy muttered in reply. "I don't care about name," he added in the same dark tone.

"What about the person in charge?" Harry asked, hoping Tom at least knew the name of the owner of the orphanage. "What's their name?"

"Miss Cole," The boy answered with disdain. Although Harry felt relieved that the child knew some information of the place in which he lived at, Harry also felt concerned in the way Tom answered, how his voice filled with scorn and fear. "I hate her,"

"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely curious about the child's hatred towards his caretaker. "What is she like?"

"She…she's mean," Tom seethed, Harry feeling the child tremble with anger. "She hates me,"

"I'm sure that's not true," Harry said in a reassuring voice, trying his best to calm the child's anger. Before Harry could say anything more, Tom looked up with him, a small frown on his lips.

"You wrong!" He protested angrily. "She calls me names…filth, scum…" And suddenly, Tom's expression of anger quickly changed to one of sadness, his head tilting down. "I don know what they mean…but I don like it. Kids call me it too and I hate them,"

Harry heard the abrupt sound of sniffling. "No-one likes me. No-one…" Tom whispered in a saddened voice. And just as the child was about to release a few tears from his eyes, he was embraced tightly by two strong arms that held him close to a beating, soothing heart.

"I like you," Tom heard a gentle voice say. "No matter what people say to you, no matter how mean they can be, no matter how lonely you are, just remember that you have someone thinking of you,"

"Who?" Tom's voice asked, engulfed in Harry's robes.

"Me of course," Harry answered with a slight chuckle, pushing Tom gentling away so he could look into his eyes, two green wet eyes meeting his gaze. Harry smiled, took out a tissue from his robe pocket and dried Tom's eyes. "Now, let's have no more tears, OK?"

Tom slowly nodded head. "Okay…"

"Good boy," Harry praised, rubbing his brown hair affectionately. Seeing how the child had calmed down and no longer looked as though he would break down into tears, Harry decided it was best that his questioning should continue. "I need to ask you a few more question…"

A displeasing frown covered the child's lips. "I don like qusdums,"

"I know," Harry said, not really blaming the kid for not wanting to co-operate with him. The questions he asked were bringing up some painful stuff, information Tom would rather he kept to himself. But if Harry was ever going to help him… "But, I need to know, Tom. There's only a few more and then no-more, OK?"

Tom looked up Harry with a hesitant look. After a few seconds of scanning Harry's face, Tom hung his head and nodded slightly.

"Thank you, Tom," Harry said, placing his hand on the child's hair, figuring it best to dive straight in and continue his questions. "Before you arrived here, what was the last thing you remember doing?"

"I…I was in my room," Tom answered, his head remaining looking at his lap. "Miss Cole put me there and I don know why…she does it to me all the time and I don know why…" As Tom spoke, his voice started to quieten and quiver. "Sat on my bed, held my knees…and then it was dark and it felt cold and noises, horses looking down at me and I was scared and…"

"It's OK," Harry cooed in a calm voice, a hand on Tom's back to settle his trembling. "Your safe now,"

"Don send me back," Tom said in a strong voice, his eyes looking up to the Boy Who Lived with fear and fright. "Don let them get me, p'wease Har'wry," Tom slowly stood up in Harry's lap and flung his small arms around Harry's neck, his head resting on the teenager's shoulder.

Harry didn't know what to say; he couldn't promise something that he couldn't guarantee. After all, he wasn't Tom's guardian and as so, Harry had no authority to promise such a thing. However, at the same time, Harry felt compelled to reassure the child, wanting nothing more but to protect him and to wash away the sadness which crippled his trembling body. Harry put his arms around the child, doing as much as he could to usher the toddler. It was all he could do to answer him.

"I wanna stay with you," Tom said, his hold on Harry so tight the wizard almost found it hard to breathe. "I want Haw'ry,"

And the truth was, Harry wanted to look after Tom to, but he didn't dare voice it. He just held the child tightly to let him know that he was here for him. He couldn't whisper back the answer he wanted to say for he couldn't guarantee it.

"Shh," Harry cooed, stroking Tom's hair gently, doing the only thing he could do for the toddler; comfort him. "It's OK, Tom. I'm here,"

The sound of a door opening echoed around the empty Hospital Wing, both boys looking down the hall in the direction of the sound, seeing Madam Promfrey walking out of her office and towards the two of them.

"Not done yet, Potter?" She asked as she approached both and stood with a board and quill held in both hands. "I thought you would be done by now,"

"Err…" Harry answered, not knowing how to answer; surely it took longer to know someone then – he looked at the clock – fifteen minutes? How quickly did she think Harry could learn about a boy he only meet last night? "Actually, I think we're about done,"

"Ah, good to hear it," Madam Promfrey said with a nod of the head. "Headmistress McGonagall would be pleased. But before you go, I need to take a sample of the boy's blood,"

"His name is Tom," Harry reminded the second person of the day that this "boy" or "child" or whatever had a name! "And why do you need to take his blood?"

Madam Promfrey sighed, Harry not knowing weather in frustration or tiredness. "How else would we know if he has any magical qualities in his blood, Potter?"

"We could ask?" Harry replied.

"Don't be obscure," Madam Promfrey said in a voice that clearly said "How could you propose such a thing?!". "If we asked the boy, he may not even know what we're talking about – how would a child, like himself, know such a detail of his life? Besides, by taking his blood, I will be able to acutely determine what type of blood he has, more acutely than a answer – this way we will have no doubts,"

Yeah, Harry thought, But this way is far more long winded. But Harry didn't dare to voice his opinion, not if he wanted a whack of the head by the matron standing before him. He opted to keep his trap shut and go along with what Madam Promfrey had in mind, even though he didn't really agree.

"Why couldn't I ask-?"

"Because Headmistress McGonagall wanted an "actuate answer, Potter," Madam Promfrey answered, as if she had read Harry's mind with Occulancy. "She'd told me to allow you some time to talk to the child before I under-go the procedure,"

"Oh," Harry answered not liking the fact that McGonagall didn't tell him any of this. It was like they were making decisions of what to do with Tom without Harry's consent and he really didn't like how- wait…Harry's consent? Since when was Harry Tom's guardian? Where did that thought come from anyway?

"Har'wy," Tom's fearful voice pulled Harry back to reality, looking down at the child, who looked up with green eyes. "What happening?"

"Tom," Harry said, smiling gentling to the boy. "Madam Promfrey here," Harry inclined his head to the matron – Tom quickly looked to her woefully and returned his attention back to the teenage wizard. "Needs to find out some important medical details about you,"

"Will it hurt?" Tom asked, pulling close to Harry, who looked at Madam Promfrey as if asking the questions to her.

"Not to worry," Madam Promfrey replied, readying a small syringe out from her pocket, cleaning it sterilised water. "I just inject this syringe into Tom's arm and that's it," If Harry wasn't hearing wrong, he was sure Madam Promfrey was speaking in a gentle voice, and did she actually just call the child by his name?

Harry nodded his head, thanking her for the reassurance. "See," He spoke gently. "You heard Madam Promfrey. Just a small injection and then all will be over,"

"But I don't want-" Tom started in protest.

"You're a brave boy," Harry said. "And besides, I'm here with you. So can you do this, for me?" Tom looked up into Harry's gentle eyes and after a few moments of searching, of unspoken words of trust and care, Tom nodded his head.

"OK," He answered quietly.

"Good boy," Harry praised, looking to Madam Promfrey, who held the syringe in her hand ready. Tom's eyes darted fearfully to the syringe and pulled away closer into Harry's chest, his eyes closed tightly, buried in Harry's robes, his left arm outstretched, allowing Madam Promfrey to proceed with the procedure he was fearing.

With Tom's sleeve pulled back, Madam Promfrey dabbed a part of his skin with a cotton wool ball and injected the syringe. At once, Harry felt Tom's muscles tense up, Harry guessing that the kid was trying his best not to cry, his body trembling slightly in Harry's lap. After a few moments, Madam Promfrey removed the syringe an d covered the small hole with the cotton wool ball, instructing Harry to apply pressure to it which he did so.

Madam Promfrey held the syringe now filled with some of Tom's blood, took out her wand, pointed it to the object and muttered "Determinaine," In a flash, the syringe flashed a brilliant white and glowed in a turquoise color. At once, she dotted something down onto her board with a quill.

"It's over now," Harry said hugging the toddler. "You did very well, Tom,"

"Indeed he did," Madam Promfrey said, handing Harry a green lollipop in the shape of a wizard. "It will dull any pain," she quickly explained.

"Here you go," Harry said giving the lollipop to Tom who took hold of it and licked it. His expression was a little less intensified and popped the sweet into his mouth gratefully. "So, what are the results?"

"Half-blood," Madam Promfrey said as she finished dotting some details down. "Headmistress McGonagall will want to know this," She handed Harry the board. "Give her this medical sheet when you see her,"

"OK," Harry replied quickly scanning over the sheet of paper before him – it was a piece of paper with some of Tom's details – his name, age, the condition he was in when found, condition now and blood type.

"I presume it will be your job to fill in the blanks," Madam Promfrey noted out, as she turned on her heels and walked back down the Hospital Wing. "Don't keep the Headmistress waiting,"

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed, his voice echoing off the walls, standing to his feet with Tom in his arms, he had, out of side-effects to Madam Promfrey's potion, fallen asleep, snoring slightly in a peaceful manner.

"Please keep your voice down, Potter," Madam Promfrey scolded in a strict, frustrated voice, turning to face Harry with a serious expression. "This Hospital Wing is a place for students to rest, remember?"

"Sorry, Madam Promfrey," Harry apologized, although he didn't see here he was in the wrong – there were no students resting in any of the beds currently! What students were he gonna wake? "But, last night, you said you were worried about Tom….why?"

A pause. The sound of owls hooting from the nearby Owerly could be heard out of from the open window, the sun shining in bathing the two in golden sunshine.

"I was afraid your little story was true," She suddenly confessed. "The one about the centaurs. And when Headmistress McGonagall revealed that it wasn't, my worry that the bruises and cuts inflicted upon that child were at the hands of other creatures other than magical ones were realized. You've spoken to the child, haven't you Potter?"

Harry nodded his head in answer.

"Then tell me, do I speak an ounce of truth?"

Harry said nothing, for, even though Madam Promfrey did speak some truth, Harry wasn't entirely sure how much was true and how much wasn't. His head slowly lowered as Madam Promfrey sighed.

"Tell the Headmistress," she said as she walked towards her office. "About the child, where he lives and how he got those cuts and bruises. Tell her, Potter,"

And before Harry could raise his head and ask her anymore, she slammed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the Hospital Wing with a sleeping Tom in his arms.

Tell her,

"I will," Harry answered to the closed door down the Hospital Wing. "I'll tell McGonagall everything I know,"

A/N:

Well, there you have it; another chapter for all of you patient people out there. I hope a year's wait was worth it! :p

Again, I'm sorry you guys and gals had to wait so long for this thing, but I'm back and I'm still gonna continue with it! It still lives! :D

Anyway, the purpose of this chapter was for Harry to learn more about little Tom and to put an end to why Madam Promfrey has been so worried over the cuts and bruises seen on Tom's body – If you didn't get it, she thinks he's been abused by his parents/guardians. I also wanted to show the connection between Harry and Voldermort was still intact even with Tom at such a young age – this will be important in future chaps. And of course, I wanted more interaction between Harry and lil' Tommy! :)

Please leave a review if you want me to continue writing. Show your support. Thank you. :)

See you in the next update.

~mpkio2~