Back at Windermere Court, Sirius and Cassiopeia were in her private laboratory, examining the strange diary. They had conducted dozens of experiments, but they were no closer to discovering the true nature of the cursed book.
'I've never seen anything like it before, Sirius,' Cassiopeia muttered, glaring at the obstreperous object severely through her spectacles. 'It responds to none of the standard tests.'
'Could it work on the same principles as a portrait?' Sirius suggested.
Cassiopeia shook her head. 'It appears to be far too crafty for that,' she said. 'It told each of us exactly what we needed to hear in order for it to gain our trust. Had we not already known who created the object, we should have been taken in as easily as Aries was.'
'There also seemed to be a powerful compulsion charm on the diary,' Sirius said. 'Perhaps we ought not to judge Aries too harshly for his mistake.'
Cassiopeia frowned. 'Clearly the book was designed in order to entice and ensnare the reader. But to what purpose?'
Just then Sirius felt the right pocket of his robes grow very warm against his thigh. He reached inside and retrieved the handheld mirror. Harry's worried face hovered in the glass.
'What's wrong, Aries?' Sirius asked at once.
'I had a strange vision about ten minutes ago,' the boy explained. 'I saw Uncle Lucius being punished by Tom Riddle, only...'
'What is it?' Sirius pressed.
'I was Tom Riddle. I saw everything from his point of view.'
'Is this the first time something like this has happened?' Cassiopeia asked, shoving into position next to Sirius.
Harry shook his head. 'I've been having odd dreams of this sort ever since I started writing in the diary. This is the first time it's happened when I was awake, though.'
'You've been seeing inside Riddle's head, and you didn't think to mention it before now?' Sirius growled.
Harry winced. 'Sorry, Dad. I didn't realise it was him I was dreaming about.'
'Think hard,' Cassiopeia commanded him. 'Is there anything else unusual about the vision?'
'I got a splitting headache,' Harry said. 'Come to think of it, I got the same sort of headache when I was writing in Riddle's diary.' He groaned. 'And the same thing happened when I was around Quirrell. I should have realised sooner there was a connexion.'
'You are still just a boy,' Sirius pointed out. 'It would hardly be reasonable for us to expect you figure this all out on your own.'
Cassiopeia looked very pensive. 'Where exactly were these headaches? Were they all over your skull, or were they localised in a particular area?'
Harry thought about that. 'Now that you mention it, they've always been in my forehead.' His eyes widened. 'Where my scar used to be.'
'The scar from where he tried to kill you?' Sirius asked.
Harry nodded. 'It disappeared when I took the potion.'
Cassiopeia pursed her lips. 'It would seem that it has not disappeared completely.'
'What do you think this means?' Sirius asked her.
'I'm not certain,' she replied. 'Aries, you did right in letting your father know about this. Be sure to inform us if anything else out of the ordinary happens. Try to pay attention to all the little details. One never knows what bit of information may prove to be the key to unlocking the mystery.'
'Yes, Aunt Cassie,' Harry said. 'Goodbye, Dad.'
'Goodbye, son,' Sirius said, and Harry's face vanished. He turned to Cassiopeia. 'This is interesting.'
'Indeed,' his great-aunt replied. 'It would appear that the scar forms some sort of magical link between the boy and Riddle.'
Sirius agreed. 'Writing in the diary must have activated it somehow,' he said.
'That is a likely hypothesis,' Cassiopeia said. 'However, as of yet we are no closer to divining the true nature of the object. That must be our first task.'
With that, the witch and wizard returned to their experimentation.
......
Harry didn't see Draco anymore that day. Harry checked for him several times on the Marauder's Map, and each time found him wandering alone: beside the lake, around the Quidditch pitch, through the corridors. When Draco didn't even show up for dinner, he thought briefly that he ought to go look for him, but he decided against it. Draco had asked for time to think, and Harry intended to give it to him.
Late that night, Harry was sitting up alone in the Common Room and working on his Transfiguration homework when Draco finally came through the door. His face was rather pale.
'Hello, Aries,' he said quietly.
Harry put down his homework and sat up in his chair. 'Hello, Draco. Where have you been?'
'Walking,' Draco said. 'And thinking.'
'I suppose it is a lot to take in,' Harry replied.
Draco smirked. 'One might say that.'
'Have you come to any conclusions?'
'A few,' Draco answered. 'But mostly I have loads of questions.'
'Any that I can provide the answers to?' Harry asked.
The blond boy chewed his lip nervously. 'Just this one. Our friendship – all that time we spent together – was that real, or was it just a necessary part of the act?'
Harry thought a bit before answering. How could he possibly explain to Draco what it meant to him to have a family, to have people who cared about him? He thought of Draco almost like a twin brother – he could hardly picture himself without Draco standing by his side. He had assumed that it would always be that way.
'It was real to me, Draco,' Harry replied at last. 'You're my very best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you.'
Draco nodded curtly, and withdrew an ornate silver dagger from within his robes. There was a strange glint in his blue eyes. Harry looked at the blond boy nervously.
'What's the knife for?' he asked.
Draco looked very serious. 'I feel the same way as you. That's why I want to make it official.'
He drew the dagger along the palm of his right hand, wincing slightly at the pain. He flipped the dagger over and offered it handle-first to Harry. Harry nodded in understanding and took it. He cut his own palm with the razor-sharp blade and firmly grasped Draco's hand.
'Blood brothers?' Draco asked solemnly.
'Blood brothers,' Harry replied.
.....
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