A/N: You know what's weird? The review that finally got me to edit and post this now-ancient chapter was Azera-V's "Please continue." I'm a sucker for epic-length reviews and anything that sounds genuine.

Seek not in the wide world to find a home; but where you chance to rest, call that your home.

Murasaki Shikibu

Harry woke up feeling oddly detached from the day before. In fact, he felt so detached that it felt as though he was floating in a pool. He'd fallen into one once, and before the fear of drowning broke through the surprise of submersion, there had been a moment of stunned weightlessness. He felt it again now.

The gentle waves rocked him and he'd almost slipped back into unconsciousness when he heard a polite cough from nearby.

"Victor?"

"I'm afraid it's only me." replied Tom's voice, and Harry opened his eyes. It was a testament to Tom's charisma that it took a good couple of minutes for Harry to even examine his unusual surroundings. After all, odd as it was, there was literally nothing to see- no objects, no ground, no sky- and Tom was…well, Tom.

Tom was good-looking in a clean, well-bred way. His bone structure was delicate, but it managed to be just this side of masculine. His hair was swept carefully into the neat style customary of men who had gone to schools with names like Eton and still met up with old classmates to talk politics and smoke in old-fashioned pipes. All in all, a good-looking man, but not striking. Until he moved. When he tilted his head to acknowledge Harry's waking, the soft light highlighted his unnaturally smooth white skin. His eyes gleamed red and then flashed green so quickly that Harry checked again to see what his eye color really was. It was brown. Just brown.

"How nice of you to join me here." Tom opened his arms gracefully to emphasize the 'here', which seemed to be an endless limbo of white.

"Where are we?" asked Harry, sitting up and rubbing vigorously at his eyes.

"We are in your mind. I might be tempted to comment on its emptiness, but that one lost its humor years ago." Rubbing his eyes hadn't made the bizarre setting go away. Harry frowned.

"Why are we here?" Tom shrugged, somehow making the movement appear aristocratic.

"I'm not entirely sure. I've been here for years, ever since I cast a very powerful bit of magic on you when you were an infant. The real mystery is; why are you here?"

"Well, it's my head." Harry replied defensively, feeling discomfited by the thought that he might be considered an intruder on his own mind.

"That it is." Tom said warmly, and reached out a hand to help Harry up. When Harry took it, Tom's eyes glittered gold, and Harry retrieved his hand as quickly as was polite. Tom noticed anyways, but only seemed amused. "Shall we?" asked Tom.

"Shall we what?"

"Walk."

"Walk to what? There's nothing here." Harry noticed the disproportionate irritation in Tom's eyes. It made him wary. Although he felt badly being wary of his savior, he recognized the look as a Vernon look, albeit a more well-concealed version. Underneath his polite exterior, he was very angry, possibly at Harry. "I'm sorry you got trapped in my head."

Tom waved the comment away dismissively.

"No matter. I highly doubt that you, all of one year old, intended any of the consequences of that night. I should imagine it won't matter if we have a goal in mind while walking. Space doesn't work that way in here." Trying not to antagonize Tom, Harry chose a direction to walk in.

After a while, he pointed excitedly.

"Look! We're getting shadows. We must be getting close to the light!" Tom seemed uplifted by the news as well, although he didn't wave at his own shadow like Harry did.

Unfortunately, though it got brighter and brighter until their shadows were nearly black, they didn't come across anything. Tom frowned.

"Perhaps if you expected to find something specific."

"Like what?"

"A location would be most convenient. One you know well." It only took about five more minutes before they came across Harry's cupboard, looking strangely disembodied without the rest of the house. Harry reached for the doorknob, but Tom caught his wrist in Petunia's familiar I-Don't-Want-To-Touch-You grip, forefinger and thumb. Again, Harry got the eerie feeling that Tom didn't like him, hated him even, but the man had been nothing but nice so far. "I refuse to meet with whatever power has summoned you here in a cupboard."

Harry concentrated and the rest of the Dursley's house sprang into being around them. Where they had been standing, by the cupboard, was now the living room. Harry perched awkwardly on the couch while Tom lounged imperialistically in Petunia's armchair and twirled his fingers as though there was a pen in them. He seemed to be waiting for something to appear.

"Now what?" Asked Harry. Tom looked at him disinterestedly.

"We wait." Harry sat up straight and proper in his chair for about ten minutes before he was fidgeting again. Tom looked comfortable in repose, but then, he'd had 8 years of practice with this bloody waiting.

"Do you think there's food in the kitchen?" Tom's eyebrows jumped as though this was something he hadn't considered, and he followed Harry to the pristine kitchen. "After we eat, I'm not going to clean up." Declared Harry fervently, and he opened the fridge door to reveal more food than had ever been in the real Dursley's home, except perhaps during a party.

Harry loaded a plate with peas and corn, soft mashed potatoes with steaming gravy, roasted chicken and cold turkey, sweet grapes and buttery biscuits, soft and warm. Everything was well-cooked and served at the perfect temperature despite everything having come from the cool box. Harry, face buried in food, didn't seem to notice.

Tom ate hesitantly at first. He took a biscuit, a slice of chicken breast and a small portion of potatoes, which, after a pause, he melted cheese over. Food like this rarely came to Harry Potter and never came to him on a plate that hadn't been eaten off of by someone else first, but even he was astonished by the concentrated bliss with which Tom steadily ate through his food. They finished a large pudding between them and the better part of a beautiful cherry pie.

"Did you know," Tom said, staring at his empty plate, "I haven't eaten since I've been here? I haven't needed to, but it's nice." He seemed faintly lost as he stared down at his plate, and after a hesitant pause, he added, "I couldn't taste food for some time before then, either. A spell I cast on myself for safety reasons had unexpected side effects and I lost a bit of taste and tactility." The wistfulness faded quickly as he straightened up and pulled the vegetables towards himself. "The fact that I can taste the food is significant. The taste of the food is obviously an illusion, which means that I can only sense things based on your limited perception." Harry graced Tom with a view of his half chewed food when he responded.

"Msh Figg saysh I'ff a good nohsh." The glare he received suited its purpose in making him gulp (either in fear or to clear his mouth of food, it was unclear) and he tried again. "Mrs. Figg says I've a good nose."

"I used to be able to smell one particle of poison in a million, and it only took three particles to detect the type, if it was known to me."

"How'd you tesht that?" asked Harry, honestly curious.

"I just knew." Snapped Tom. After a sip of orange juice, his face softened. "I never slept here, either. Eight bloody years. I would give a good deal to be free of this blasted place."

He speaks truth.

Both of them whipped their heads around at the voice, but the room remained empty.

"Hello?" called Harry. Tom wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back. The voice returned again, slightly moaning, oddly multitoned, like many voices speaking in such perfect harmony that their voices were indistinguishable from each other.

You seek the Seed.

"I do." Tom said calmly.

State your appeal, - An incomprehensible sound followed, which sounded like a rush of voices.

"As I understand it, the Seed of Souls requires magical strength. I am irrefutably one of the most powerful wizards in the world. I have-"

Your appeal is denied. You are not a wizard.

"What?" For the first time, Tom looked truly shaken. "Listen and listen well, forest, for I will find another means and return to raze you to the ground for your insolence!"

State your appeal, - another noise, although this time Harry could make out the words "mother's eyes" "scar" and "likes jam" from some of the voices. He assumed from the latter two that the noise was meant to identify him, and answered.

"I don't really have one, sir. Uhhh, ma'am."

State your appeal.

"I don't- who are you?"

I speak the truth. Tom bared his teeth at the table.

"Idiot boy, if a Forest chooses to answer your questions, don't waste time on idiotic queries. Ask it where the seed of souls is."

"But I don't-" Tom grabbed Harry's arm, hard.

"Do it!" Harry flinched back.

"You're hurting me!" Tom let go, but he didn't look apologetic; only determined to stay in control. His voice, when it came, was sharp.

"Ask."

"Where- where is the seed of souls?"

It is your own destruction you seek. In contrast to his earlier fury, Tom's face was now carefully blank.

"What do you mean?"

Sapling oak, it is the seed of choking vine, which would seek to steal the nutrients from your roots, and the sun from your leaves.

"It will kill me? Tom, you didn't know that, did you? What is the seed of souls, really?"

I speak the truth.

"Forests aren't known for speaking literally, Harry. What the seed of souls does is allow me to grow independently from you until I am strong enough to leave. The power that you will lose is only that which is rightfully mine. Losing it might make you slightly weaker while you adjust, but I know who you are, Harry, and I know you wouldn't willingly trap me to steal my power."

It is in the nature of the rot to chew into the root.

Logic and the same creeping suspicion from before were warring with Harry's instinctive desire to help, especially Tom who had helped him already.

Orphan child, ask what it is you truly desire. Harry's throat closed and he felt like he might choke in the sudden rush of the emotions he had left behind for this strange dream.

"Can you- can you bring Anthe back?"

Orphan child, ask what it is you truly desire. Harry couldn't think of anything else he wanted more. Anthe was going to be his mother. She was going to teach him and take care of him and love him, and for that he would do almost anything.

Request granted. The food on the table vanished, followed by the table, and the cabinets around them. They stood in a box, with a hole in the floor where the sink used to be. The walls, too, began to fade, leaving not the white emptiness of before, but instead, a thick and choking forest.

It is in a mother's nature to council.

Suddenly, something changed about Harry's sight. The heavy foliage still bore down on the relatively small boy, but he suddenly saw every hole he could dive into, could hear the sawing of birds in the distance, could recognize that while only one of the types of mushrooms he saw was edible, there were three that made decent topical remedies for various skin afflictions. In an instant, the space around him became one he was intimately familiar with.

It is in a mother's nature to nurture.

There was a branch just out of the reach of Harry's arms, and like he had just known everything alse about the forest, he knew to reach for the branch as if there was fruit there. As he reached out, he instinctively tugged with something he had never known existed in his mind, and an apple blossomed into being and dropped off of the branch and into his hand. Never mind that it was a walnut tree. Tugging at the new feeling again, moss grew up from the ground over his trainers and up to his scraped knees, leaving them healed before receding.

It is in a mother's nature to protect.

Danger, there was an overwhelming feeling of danger and deceit and horror beyond understanding. Cringing instinctively, Harry realized the feeling was pouring off of Tom, who stood frozen by his side, eyes glinting greedily at the miracles that Harry was seemingly performing. In a flash of insight, Harry looked at Tom and saw him for what he was, truly. He saw a shattered piece from a broken individual. He looked through the fragments and saw the potential glowing soft and beautiful despite its ruin. He felt more than saw a lonely anger which tugged at his sympathy, and in the same instant, he felt the Mother's intent.

"No!" Harry shouted. The forest paused around him.

It is in a mother's nature to protect.

The voice had changed into something clearly feminine. It was still a composition of voices, but Harry almost fancied he could hear the sharpness of the way Anthe pronounced her "H"s.

"Please don't kill him. I want to help him. Please."

The Shard would kill you, given the chance. It saddened Harry to realize this was true.

"I know. Please leave him anyways. I can't- I can't-" Harry's ten year old heart broke under the strain of the day and he ducked the soft branches that reached out to envelop him in comforting embraces. All the grass stood on edge as it leaned towards him. "I can't let anyone else die today."

It is in a mother's nature to protect. The voice insisted, but it had the air of acquiescence. Just as he felt the knowledge come to him, he felt warm magic envelop his mind in a loving, but firm grip. He felt binding after binding tighten within himself. Tom started to fade, and Harry felt light-headed. He looked at his hands, but found that if anything, he was becoming more solid. The color of his skin burned healthy and fierce against the scenery. He felt realer than he ever had before.

Tom, too, was watching his hands, as they continued to fade. In a moment of sudden realization, he leapt towards Harry, hands outstretched to choke him, but a root tripped him and as he fell, his hands passed through Harry's chest.

Harry jumped back, startled.

Tom vanished completely, and the forest around Harry faded and was replaced by huge dancing flames. Harry knew he should be afraid, but the blaze seemed inviting, and warm rather than burning. He felt that he could step into the fire and dance with the flames and come out unharmed.

The fires of destiny burn bright in you, son of the First Mother. You will never be alone.

The fires danced higher and higher, until they engulfed Harry. They burned with energy, instead of heat, and he felt alive, more alive than he ever had before. In that moment, Harry felt as if he could do anything. He raised his hands as the blaze flared bright until his vision was lost in light and fire.

Harry woke up for the second time, but to the reality he was familiar with. The forest sat relatively still and quiet around him, and the magic was more settled, but it was there. Now that Harry knew what to look for, he found that the strange knowledge from before still came to him if he concentrated, and the magic of the forest settled like a hum around him.

"Harry. . . " Harry shifted and something poked uncomfortably into his back. "Harry, wake up. . ." The same something wrapped warm and smooth around his hand . . .

. . .and proceeded to crush it, grinding all the bones painfully against each other.

"Ouch!" shouted Harry, and shot up. Victor unwrapped himself.

"I had hoped to court Anthe, but she's dead, so I'll take you the last leg as promised and then you will be on your own."

Harry took a moment to process the words, sitting up and wincing at the amount of pine needles, earth, and forest debris that stuck to his skin. His finger brushed against something smooth and scaly and it was only after his gaze followed his arm down to the slightly coiled body of Anthe that the events of the day before all crashed upon him at once. His eyes began to well up with tears, and he might have fallen back into the misery of the night before if Victor had not said,

"I won't stay here any further. If you want to join me, come now." The sentiment was punctuated by a brief surge of irritation coming from the back of Harry's mind that wasn't his own.

"Tom?" He whispered to himself. More irritation, and the dim thought,

'…obviously…'

"How can you two be so cold?"

"It is the way of snakes." A surge of irritation so strong from inside of Harry's mind that it physically hurt.

"You aren't sad?" He addressed only Victor this time.

"It is regrettable. More regrettable if we stay out here and I am carried off by a hawk. Do you mind?"

Harry picked himself up and bent over so Victor could coil himself around his arm.

"Shouldn't we bury her?"

"Why?"

"It feels wrong to just leave her there."

"It would be 'wrong' to treat her as though she is human. She isn't, anymore."

"She was, though!" Tom's voice came through quiet and forced.

'A forced animagus bind doesn't work after death. The corpse will revert to the form with which the victim identifies.'

"What does that mean?"

'Regardless of what she was born as, she is a snake now. Don't insult her.'

It felt wrong to walk away from the little corpse, but Harry covered the visible wounds with a little bundle of flowers he gathered and shot a look at Victor, daring either of his companions to say anything.

"Where are we going?" Victor made some sort of snorting noise.

"I assumed you wanted to find the center of the forest. Didn't you need something from there?"

"I…" Harry frowned. "I don't know. I think I already…" Harry reached towards a convenient branch and tried the tugging from before. The feeling was only a faint niggle in the back of his mind. Pouring in all of his concentration, Harry reached towards the branch and Pulled. By the time the apple was plum sized, sweat was dripping into Harry's eyes, but he kept trying.

Finally, Harry stood triumphantly, holding an apple in his shaking hand.

"I say, my dear boy, don't give yourself an aneurysm. The apple won't do you much good then." Harry's teeth slipped against the surface of the apple. Victor uncurled himself and began the journey down Harry's body.

"It's not hard to do once I hold onto the feeling. I just need to find the button for it, and that's hard."

"Is that all you'll need, then?" Victor asked from Harry's ankles.

"I think so. Are you going?" Victor slithered a few paces and called back,

"A word of advice. Practice."

Sitting down on a log, Harry finished his apple and looked at the core pensively.

"So that was real, then. With the apple. And Tom. Tom!"

Yes? Came the irritated voice from the back of Harry's mind.

"Are you okay?"

You're still alive, idiot, which means I am many things, none of which are 'okay'.

"You did try to kill me." responded Harry, wondering why he was so calm about the whole thing.

And I've served eight years imprisoned. Harry sucked apple juice from his fingers.

"Well, if you're fine, what did she do?" Tom growled at him.

She bound me to you.