Emi

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“You have a second wand,” Harry said flatly. He tried not to let emotions colour his voice, but his attempt failed — every syllable rang with bitterness.   

There was a flicker in Riddle’s eyes, like he was considering lying his way out of this, so Harry glared harder. Sharp, unpleasant coldness settled inside his chest, chilling him from the inside out. 

“Save it,” he snapped when Riddle finally opened his mouth to say something. “I know exactly why you need it. You don’t like us having brother wands, so you made sure to go and get something that will give you a chance to attack me full-force. Am I wrong?”

More silence followed his question. Riddle must have rethought his approach because his face changed again. The placating look slipped off it like the artificial mask it was, with more genuine irritation taking its place.    

“I suppose there is no way to burn this unbearable curiosity out of you,” he uttered darkly. “You insist on poking your nose into things that do not concern you.”

Such a dismissive answer instantly sent a new surge of anger down Harry’s veins. He took a step towards Riddle, his fist clenching around his wand furiously.

“Things that don’t concern me?” he repeated. “You got this second wand to fight me. I’d say this concerns me pretty damn much!”

More annoyance. Riddle clearly didn’t intend to take him seriously — he just regretted getting caught.

His chest compressed, even as his anger fizzled out. Feeling numb now, Harry began to turn away, but Riddle’s fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, jerking him to a stop.

“Your conclusions are premature,” he said calmly. Harry paused, his heart thumping hard on his ribcage.

Riddle might have sounded calm, but his grip on Harry’s wrist was bruising. Whether he was lying right now or not, it was important for him to make Harry stay and to explain himself. This… this probably meant something.   

“I do not know the specifics of the relationship between you and the other version of me,” Riddle continued, and this time, there was definitely a bite of frost to his tone. “But I don’t see you as an immediate or inevitable threat. The second wand will be useful because I intend to duel you, not fight you.”

Duel?

The heavy chain around his heart began to loosen. Harry blinked. The wariness was still there, still lurking, but the fierce longing to believe Riddle instantly overpowered it.      

Could it be that he’d read it all wrong? When he saw that second wand, he thought for sure Riddle was back to planning something. It made sense, considering his paranoia and his recent humiliation, and yet… wanting to duel Harry made sense as well, didn’t it? Riddle saw him fight and win most of his duels. Maybe this time, he was finally impressed.

Besides, he trained his other Knights, and Harry was technically one of them now.

But then why would he simply not say it? Riddle must have left Hogwarts’ premises at some point to get a new wand. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just anything, so he had to have tried different options before picking one. He didn’t say a word about it — he continued to stay silent up until today, when Harry finally confronted him. So was he lying or not?

Agitation stirred in him anew. Harry tried to shake Riddle off, but Riddle must have predicted it: his grip intensified, and he grabbed Harry’s shoulder with his other hand, forcibly turning him to face him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Reluctantly, Harry obeyed. Riddle was staring at him with strange intensity, and a moment later, he understood why. He could swear the Horcrux in him twitched — the link between them sparked to life, and the next thing Harry knew, he was seeing what Riddle was trying to show him.

The image of the two of them in the middle of Room of Requirement. Focused on one another. Duelling.

He was seeing himself through Riddle’s eyes. At first, it was difficult to adjust his vision — everything was moving too quickly, bright flashes of different spells clashing and replacing one another. Was he actually this fast, or did Riddle just see him this way?

Whatever the answer was, Harry couldn’t look away. Something about this vision made heat prickle along his collar — he remembered to breathe only after his lungs began to burn insistently.

The way Riddle imagined him… the way he saw him… it was fascinating. Harry was a whirlwind in his eyes, so bright and focused and endlessly alive that he could barely recognise himself. It was almost like he had more colours than everything else in the room — like Riddle filled him with these colours, elevating him above the pale surroundings.

It was flattering. And surprising. And most importantly, everything in this vision looked precise, which meant that Riddle had probably imagined it many times before.

He wasn’t lying. He was planning for them to start duelling together.

The link broke. It took Harry a moment to realise he was back to staring at Riddle.

Distantly, he noted that he was panting as if he had returned from a real duel just now. Riddle didn’t seem nearly as affected, but his gaze was searing, his pupils blown wide.