What Lies Ahead

Fourteen

The Headmaster straightened in his chair and Harry mirrored him, anticipation coursing through his veins.

"You know, of course, that Tom Riddle used the diary to bring himself back from within the pages. Sometime in his seventh year he had deposited part of his soul inside the book as a security net should his body ever be destroyed. All he required was for someone to write in it and he could let his charm do the rest. He had an incredible knack for drawing people in." 

"Tom could have easily survived, and even thrived, without finding his future self, but I fear that joining the two has brought him back stronger than ever." 

"Is that why he could touch me," Harry asked hesitantly.  

Professor Dumbledore stood with a sigh and began to pace behind his desk. He ran a hand over face, contemplating his next answer. 

"This is where we set facts aside and dive into speculation, " Dumbledore clarified.  "Your mother's sacrifice still protects you which is why I haven't the slightest idea why he didn't feel pain when touching you. If you had been the one writing in the diary…" 

"I-I did," Harry interjected, suddenly remembering when he had found the diary in the girl's lavatory.  

Professor Dumbledore came to a stop and turned a pondering look towards Harry. He stroked his long white beard as he surveyed him for a brief moment. 

"How long did you spend writing in it?" 

Harry hesitated, his mind working hard to remember exactly how long he'd sat in his bed writing to the invisible person. 

"I only had it for a few weeks," he explained.  "I asked about the Chamber of Secrets and Tom showed me how Hagrid was arrested. Someone stole it the next day." By someone,  he meant Ginny but he couldn't bring himself to say her name. 

"You only wrote in it that one time?" 

Harry nodded and remained silent.  He could see Professor Dumbledore running this new information through his mind, piecing it together with what he already knew. After a minute, he shook his head. 

"It shouldn't have been enough to create a connection," he muttered more to himself than to Harry. "If you would have spent every night writing, then possibly…" 

He trailed off and then looked up to Harry with an apologetic smile. Reclaiming his seat, he eyed Harry over his steepled fingers. 

"In truth, Harry,  it matters not why Voldemort is able to touch you. You will be safe at your Aunt and Uncle's this summer. I plan to take you there myself after…" 

"I can't take the train," Harry asked in disbelief.  "But Hermione and Ron…" 

"Will understand," Dumbledore interrupted. "Returning to the rest of the students right now would not be in your best interest." 

"Why," he asked defiantly though he had an idea of what the answer would be. Realization had struck him during one of the days he had spent alone, pacing the office; however,  he needed to hear it from Dumbledore.  

The Headmaster's lips pressed together in a thin line as a look of pity overtook his facial features.  

"To save you from answering the questions that are still circulating the school." 

"Like whether I killed her?" 

His voice cracked and he quickly turned away to avoid those piercing blue eyes. Shaking his head, he tried to imagine the accusation that were being thrown around. How could anyone think that? But then he remembered the rumors that had followed him since the first attack on Fitch's cat.