Chapter Text
Honestly, what could be said about Draco Malfoy? He is the pure blood heir of the Malfoy family, Slytherin, prefect, and brilliant in all his ways. So much so that, despite his age, the Dark Lord appointed him as a Death Eater and requested that he complete one simple mission:
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Easier said than done.
Over the summer, Bellatrix trained him in Occlumency, something he easily mastered. During this time, he had become much more powerful, but even with his new-found skills, his future action still weighed heavily. Instead, he turned his attention to getting the rest of the Death Eater into Hogwarts. After Potter's defamation of Lucius Malfoy caused him to get arrested, his father's duties were now given to him. His family's life and legacy are in his hands. His father will hear about his deeds. He would restore Malfoy's name. Draco won't fail.
A new school year arrives. His sixth year. In the dead of night, Draco "patrols" through the walls of Hogwarts. He intends to go into the Room of Requirements to ensure the gateway for the Death Eaters. But his mind is wrapped with spinning threads; each attempt to unravel a single emotion sent him spiraling into a knotted headache. It's beneficial to obey the Dark Lord; he has all the power; to stay by his side ensures that their future will be secure! But a small part of him wonders if it was truly worth it. If his family were to oppose-- no! What was he thinking? There is no way to rewrite what has been done. He is committed; no one could stop the Dark Lord besides himself.
A light wish passes Draco, sending a brief chill to his side. Now, that's odd; no one is there. Draco blinks, opting to return to the Slytherin's dorm, but with less than two steps forward, he pivots his heels and walks further down. He knew that "uneasy feeling" could mean one thing, or rather, one person.
"Potter."
Draco whispers a disillusionment charm and glares down the halls, waiting for the slightest tell--a mishap revealing the Gryffindor's whereabouts. Whether it be his intuition or Potter's sloppiness, Draco didn't wait long to see him pull the Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders. As the Slytherin's prefect, he did have the power docking points from the Gryffindor's house for breaking curfew. Now, honestly, he could use a pick-up. Draco's grins fall as the Boy Who Lived whispers several words, and a door appears. Potter looks around, then waltzes inside.
Draco clicks his tongue. Why did he also need Room of Requirements? Did Potter know of his plans? If he does, it'll ruin everything! Perhaps he should tell Professor Snape, and he'd see to it that Potter would be punished. No, after the situation with his father, there's no doubt a rat like Snape is looking for a way up to the Dark Lord's inner circle. Draco couldn't let this opportunity slip through his fingers. At this point, he doesn't care if Potter knows his presence. He runs to the doors before they shut. Unbeknownst to Draco, he steps inside the rune circle, and a burst of power covers his vision. The runes of old circle him. Then the impact shoots him down, rendering him unconscious.
"Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Pott-- Oh? Another?" One voice echoes.
"Well, look, it's a Malfoy," the other muses.
"Not any, it's Draco Malfoy. How amusing." Both voices chuckle through a sea of emptiness.
Draco jolts awake. The sun's bright rays beam into his eyes. Despite blinking, everything in the room is still disoriented and blurry. His vision adjusts slightly, grounding the room and light. How is it morning already? Did Potter play some sort of trick on him? Draco groans, rubbing his arms off the ground. He grabs his wand and waves it. "Tempus." His silver eyes widen. Quickly as he can, he smoothes out his hair, fixes his robes, straightens his Prefect pin, and rushes out of the room.
It's unheard of for a Slytherin's prefect, a Malfoy, to be tardy to his classes. He sprints down the hall into the DADAS. Luckily, a duel is taking place, so Draco easily slips past his classmates to get a sideline view of the commencing battle. Draco rolls his eyes; he could identify that unruly dark brown hair anywhere. Potter is up, and of course, he would bask in the glory of the battle. Perhaps he kept a close eye; he would be about to deduct house points for a technicality.
"He'll counter left," Draco huffs underneath his breath. Just then, the spell directly hits Potter, sending him flying back.
Draco's eyebrows rise. That's odd... He could have easily countered the spell with a deflection, a shield, or simply dodged it. Why did he lean into the attack? Draco squints slightly.
Is Potter wearing green with his robe?
Potter hits the floor, and the rest of the student body cheers for the winner. Chatter and chanting fill the room. But not one of the voices is familiar. What? Potter slowly gets up; his bangs cover his eyes. Potter never breaks eye contact with the ground while he shakes his opponent's hand. The student with...
Slytherin robes...
Platinum blonde hair...
And silver eyes...
A Malfoy?
"What is the meaning of this?!" Draco yells, pushing students aside, gunning for Potter.
Potter finally turns to him. Where are his glasses? And why are his eyes dirt brown? Potter's mouth gapes open.
"Young man, how dare you interrupt my lesson?" The older lady professor scolds.
"Who are you?" The "Malfoy" quizzically eyes him.
Draco growls, "What? 'Who am I?' How prosperous! You dare not know my name?! It's Draco, Draco Mal--"
"McClure!" Potter shouts and grabs hold of Draco's robes. Awkwardly clinging to his chest.
"What?! Unhand me this instant! Pot--" Draco's mouth squeezes shut, and no noise leaves his lips. His voice lingers in the depths of his throat, and he glares at Potter, who glares back.
"Wasn't part of the plan," Potter mumbles.
"Speak up, Evans," The professor orders.
Potter's eyes snap back into focus, and his gaze returns to the ground.
"I'm sorry, Professor Merrythought..." he steps away from Draco.
'Merrythought?' Draco thinks as Potter says that line is a bit too quiet and pathetic.
"You see, we lived nearby, in the same neighborhood. When Grindelwald..." Draco squints. Potter shakes his head. "Since we are both new, I was supposed to bring him to the Headmaster with me, but this class... I'll bring him now."
Professor Merrythought sighs somewhat sympathetically and nods, "Well, the Head Boy will--"
"With all due respect, ma'am, we have disrupted too much of your time. We'll go," Potter adds.
'Of course he is, Dumbledore's golden boy.' Draco scoffs inside his mind.
"Well, Headmaster Dippet, you should be in. Off you two go," she shoos the two new students away, refocusing her attention on her class.
'What?'
Potter tightly grips Draco's arm and drags him out of the room. They walk past the door frame and into the hallway. Draco's lips are shut tight as he begrudgingly follows behind stupid Potter. The Gryffindor pauses slightly and pushes him into an empty classroom.
"Colloportus!" He mutters, and the door shuts, locked behind them.
Finally, he unseals Draco's mouth. A swift spell strikes him to the ground. Draco hovers above Potter and points his wand at his neck.
"What the bloody hell is going on? Who are those people? Why does no one remember me? If this is your idea of a prank, I'll let you know when my father gets out; he'll be hearing this," he spits with venom.
Potter's eye twitches, and he swings out from underneath. He flips back, whacking Draco's face with a bundle of rolled-up paper. Draco growls at the muggle action and prepares his wand to strike back, but the headline halts his movement.
"That's... No, that's impossible..."
"Dark Lord Grindelwald Strikes Again; The War Continues. Plans for future attacks are in motion. Summer issue 1942."
1942.
Potter glares back. "Yeah, your father won't be hearing this anytime soon."
Notes:
It's 1942 and Tom Riddle is beginning his Sixth Year at Hogwarts, and he hasn't killed anyone or found the Chambers of Secrets yet.
Chapter 2: Darkness of the Past
Chapter Text
"1942..."
Indeed, those are the numbers on the parchment.
But no, it can't be.
Less than four hours ago, Draco was walking the hallways of Hogwarts looking for a way to bring the rest of the Death Eaters inside the castle. Then he followed a pathetic, putrid, madness beyond all reason. He followed...
Potter.
"What sort of idiotic prank is this?!" Draco screams.
Potter raises his hand, in a poor effort to calm him down. "This isn't a joke, Draco."
"Then how in the bloody hell are we fifty years in the past!!" Draco grips Potter's collar, his wand pointed at his neck.
Potter slaps his wand away, "I don't have time for this. Literally. Time magic is a fickle matter, so it's best not to unnecessarily meddle."
"Meddling?! Isn't that the bane of your existence?! Tell me, Potter. What did Dumbledore say to make his little errand boy do his dirty work?!"
"I'm not his errand boy!" Potter growls back. "Dumbledore entrusted me to go back in time! To stop him."
"Him?" Draco's question falls short. There's only one possible person the great Dumbledore fears. The Dark Lord. Somehow Potter confirms his suspicions. He nods full of determination. "Well! What do you plan to do? Murder his younger self in cold blood?"
"What?! I would never--" Potter bites his lip. "I-I won't harm Tom Riddle. But... I will get rid of Voldemort. For good."
Draco pushes him to the wall. "You dare speak the Dark Lord's name?!?!"
Potter's mission. It matched his own. Both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord want their greatest foe out of the equation to guarantee victory at the end of the war. The only difference is. If Draco fails, then his parents will...
"Bring us back. Now!" Draco threatens.
Potter unfazed, simply scoffs. He reveals an hourglass from his robes. Slowly, the sands fall down into the other side of the compartment.
"See this? Once all the sand hits the bottom, and only then, will Dumbledore's Tempus Commutatus summon circle be ready to bring us back."
"W-wait, is it not the Ancient Runes?"
"Yes? But how did you--"
Potter freezes. The hourglass he holds slips from his finger tips.
Before Draco could reach out his hand, the hourglass smashes into tiny shards. The grains of sand pour out and scatter across the floor.
"What the bloody hell, Potter?! We needed that to--"
His body slams into the desk. His vision hazes before returning back to normal. Draco stares at the seething Potter and a certain numbness spreads across his cheek.
Did...
Did Potter just punch him?
"You were there last night, weren't you?! You followed me! Draco, you complete bloody git!! The summon circle wasn't made for two! It was my gateway between time! Go in and get out! Now, you're here! The bond is broken!!"
Broken? The summoning circle is broken?
If it truly was a two use gateway, then when Draco fell into the circle...
"A-are you saying we are stuck here?" Draco's cheek turns red.
Stuck in 1942...
What will become of them? What will become of the future? His mother, his father? He stuck here with...
"Confringo!" Draco screams.
Unlike the duel with Malfoy, Potter doesn't act like a bloody git. He dodges, and snaps into a dueling stance. Draco doesn't stop his attacks. He casts spell after spell. But bloody Potter is a slippy bastard. With enough power one will hit. Potter runs and jumps around the room, never returning fire. Rage fills Draco's vision. Nothing else matters except Potter's defeat.
Potter dodges once more, but his left foot slides on the sand and a crunch breaks the wooden base of the hourglass.
The thud sounded hollow.
Draco hears it too.
Without breaking eye contact, Potter bends down and shifts through the broken pieces and finds a folded piece of paper.
"Truce," Potter pathetically pants.
He cautiously shuffles over to Draco's side. He holds out the paper.
"Tsk," Draco snatches it from his hands.
On top it says "Final Gambit". It's a list of ingredients. Angel's Trumpet, Arncia, Avocado seed, Baneberry, Bezoar, cinnamon, even some impossible, Basilisk's venom? Phoenix's Ashes? There are measurements as well.
He scoffs, "The old coot made an impossible potion. How will this help us?!"
"It says 'Final Gambit', like as a last resort it could help us," Potter grabs the list back. He sighs, "But it'll take a while for us to get these ingredients..."
"Well, do whatever it takes, Potter!"
"Enough with the 'Potter', alright?!" The Boy Who Lived hisses. "While we're here we can't reveal our true names. What exactly do you think will happen if the Aurors find us using the forbidden Time Magic? What do you think will happen to the future? I am keeping a low profile, and I insist you do the same. Refer to me as Evans." Potter pauses and a stupid grin appears on his face. "But if you can't manage that, feel free to call me by my first name."
"I'd rather chew off my tongue," Draco snaps back.
Potter rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Remember you are Draco McClure, not Malfoy. You already saw the Malfoy that belongs here."
McClure. McClure. The name is simple enough, but dreadfully terrible. There's no bloodline connected to a name like McClure. Draco McClure is possible, Draco thought. Although, it would mean the Malfoy Potter battled, is none other than his grandfather.
A smug grin spreads on his face, "Well, it a Malfoy will always beat you, eh Potter?"
"Evans," Potter snaps back.
"What a pathetic Muggle name," Draco's taunting voice hums lightly.
"Watch it. It's my mother's maiden name," Potter threatens.
"Well, I suppose it's a pathetic mudblood name, now doesn't it?" Draco smirks.
"You--"
"Alohomora!" A voice from outside yells.
The door swings open, and a spitting image of himself walks into the room.
Platinum blonde hair.
Silver eyes.
Slytherin robes.
His grandfather.
"Seems Riddle was correct. You two did get lost..." He glances around the room, clear signs of a duel. "Or perhaps Evans needed to vent after his loss?"
Potter rolls his eyes, but reverts back into is unassuming new student persona.
Malfoy scoffs, "No matter. I'll tell Riddle I found you both. Follow me."
"Malfoys," Potter mutters leaves the classroom.
Draco straightens his collar, and moves his tie back in its place. He casually hides his Prefect pin, only to find it missing. That's odd. He could have sworn he had it when he had it when he arrived. Where could it have gone? Draco groans. Perhaps, it's the least of his worries. One foot out of the door, Malfoy steps in his way blocking the exit.
His grandfather grabs his chin, piercing into his soul. He lifts it up and to the left. Inspecting every single one of his facial details.
"Abraxas Malfoy..." Draco whispers.
Malfoy's eyes widen, he pushes Draco back. He sneers at his grandson. "Don't keep me waiting." He unblocks the door.
Draco exhales and follows him. The interior of Hogwarts now is slightly different from fifty years in the future. However, the bare bones of the paintings still have their core meanings. They mainly walk in silence until Malfoy stops. Immediately, Potter looks down and his bangs cover his eyes.
"Ah, Malfoy you found them. Well done," A voice praises.
Malfoy grins immensely, "But of course. It was my honor."
The young student pats Malfoy on the shoulder, then walks past him. There stands a Slytherin with a Perfect Pin and a Head Boy pin. He has jet black hair, not a strand out of place. His eyes are dark blue with equally impressive facial portions with a sharp jawline. Overall, he is quite a looker, but as impressive as his appearance... His aura is just as intense.
He stops and smiles at Draco. "McClure, was it? Glad to make your acquaintance. I am Tom Riddle, Slytherin's Prefect and Head Boy," he greets extending his hand.
Riddle? That's the name Potter mentioned before.
Draco scoffs, staring at the Prefect's hand. Such a name sounded awfully Muggle. However, the way his grandfather urged to appease this "Tom Riddle" with such conviction, and his role as Slytherin's Prefect and Head Boy. Surely, this one must be someone of importance. Exactly who is he? Draco glances over at Potter.
Odd reaction. No doubt even in the past a Gryffindor would be envious of such an accomplished Slytherin, but Potter looks as if he despises him. He watches Riddle carefully with subtle rage and bitter determination. But why?
Wait. It couldn't be...
There in front of Draco stands...
The future Dark Lord.
Draco gulps, and shakes his hand, "Likewise."
In the blink of an eye, Riddle appears right in front of Potter. "Evans, there's no shame in asking for help. Next time I'll accompany you," he says politely.
Potter keeps his head down. His body language shifts away from Riddle. But he does manage a small nod. Such a submissive gesture, or is it dismissive? Draco shakes his head.
Riddle's eye twitches everso slightly, but shrugs it off. "Malfoy. That will be all."
Malfoy nods, "I'll take my leave." He grins at Riddle once more and walks past Draco and Potter, but his eyes narrow slightly at the one of them.
"Headmaster Dippet will be expecting us. Come," Riddle flashes a charming smile.
Taking the lead, Riddle escorts them to the Headmaster's office. Behind him Draco walks a few pacing behind. It's in his best interest to act like a new student as well, but Potter is taking it to the extreme. He would look at the architecture, painting, and trace his fingers with the indents of the bricks. He creates so much distance between himself and Riddle. What a pathetic method.
"So McClure," Riddle starts. Draco speeds up to match his pace with Riddle. "You and Evans seem to have a pre-existing relationship, correct?"
Potter quickly glares at Draco. His eyes say, "Don't say anything."
Draco scoffs. Since when does he take orders from Potter? Draco grins, "Well, Riddle. We have known each other due to a previous arrangement. Our houses were in close proximity to each other. However, our relationship, if there even is one, isn't one of friends. After all, the essence of my existence is far beyond his own."
Riddle chuckles lightly, "Tension? Well, that would explain your long absence and the bruise on your cheek."
Suddenly, Riddle runs back and stands in front of Potter. His dark blue eyes peer into Potter's fake brown one, "You bite more than you bark. Don't you, Evans?"
Potter's bangs smoothly slide over his eyes once again. He doesn't say a word. Draco's eyes shift between the two boys. There they stand in the middle of the corridor.
After a minute, which feels more like ages for Draco. Riddle steps back from Potter's personal space and leads them once more.
They make it inside the Headmaster's office. There sits a circular table, filled with papers, trinkets, and odd artifacts. Instead of seeing Dumbledore's rotten face, a different man sits in his desk.
Headmaster Dippet.
He waves them inside and clears his throat. "Riddle, you have brought them. Well done."
Riddle bows, "It was nothing at all sir."
Professor Dippet waves his wand. Piles of papers fly towards him. He shakes his head and the next files fill the space. "E, E, E... Ah! There you are. Harrison Evans! Yes. Sixth year... Already sorted into Slytherin... Yes, everything seems to be in order. But you..."
He stares at Draco who tenses. "Now, McClure was it? I seem to have no records of you."
Sweat pools down to Draco's hands, but his robes hide any traces. He clears his throat, "Well, sir, I was on my way, but... I must have gotten lost along the way. See, I heard a duel."
"Really, now?" Riddle cuts in the conversation. "Because your outburst in Professor Merrythought was very brash. Almost as you were confused."
Riddle is preceptive. Too much so. Draco needs to come up with a backstory and quick? But what could he manage in such a short amount of time? He opens his mouth.
Potter mutters to himself.
"Anything to share, Evans?" Riddle shifts his attention to him.
The headmaster turns his gaze to him as well.
"I said, he wasn't supposed to be here," Potter says louder.
"Evans?" Dippet asks, pressing for more.
Potter rushes to the headmaster's desk and slams his hands on the table, "Draco McClure wasn't even supposed to be here! I heard his father say to escape the war they were going to the Americas. I didn't think he needed his Hogwarts application! So, I-- So, I switched his name for mine..."
The office falls silent.
What a dramatic performance. Potter is trying to cover for him, wasn't he? Always the stupid Gryffindor, but in this particular case, Draco hoped the little ruse would work.
Dippet is the first to break the quiet bubble, "Evans, is what you are saying true?"
"...Yes sir. When McClure saw me dueling Malfoy he knew I wasn't supposed to be here. Instinctively, I dragged him away so he won't reveal my background. He threatened to tell you, so I... Well, it explains the injury on his face."
Potter's voice softens and his eyes return to the ground. "I'm sorry McClure. I just wanted to leave the war..."
"As did I," Draco adds, with a snap in his voice.
The headmaster rises from his seat and looks out the window. He stretches the back of his neck and sighs, "Riddle."
"Yes, sir?"
"Please escort McClure back to the Slytherin Dormitory. Evans and I have much to discuss," Dippet orders, gentle signaling both of them. Draco and Riddle bow their heads and leave.
Given the position of the Headmaster's Office to the Slytherin's Common Room, Draco supposed it isn't that far of a walk. What will Potter do to weasel his out this time? Draco would have liked to see. But Riddle seems irritated about the conversation, or irritated he couldn't hear the rest.
"Tell me, McClure," he starts, "What were your thoughts when you saw Evans in your place?" Riddle turns to look at Draco.
"I," his words fall short, almost as if something is pricking at his brain. He recites one of Bellatrix's teachings and the irritate subsides. He blinks and continues, "I was wondering why he was there. Why he and I weren't in our rightful places."
"Hmm," Riddle pauses, but his gaze remains sharp. "I see..." He whispers into the Slytherin's door. "This is where you'll be staying."
As the Common Room's door opens. The interior is not quite as he remembers, but not so dissimilar that it'll confuse him. A swarm of unfamiliar faces greet Riddle. The other Slytherin express their respect for their Head Boy and curiosities for the new students.
"Riddle! You're back!" One says gleefully.
"Move Lestrange," Another shoves Lestrange aside and gasps, "You're right, Avery. He looks exactly like Malfoy!" He says pulling on, seemingly Avery's robe.
"I told you, Nott!" Avery grins brightly. "Are you a Pure blood?"
Draco rolls his eyes, "Or course! Never would I want to think of being a Mudblood!"
Several Slytherins grin in agreement, but Malfoy scoffs, "Right, should we look up the McClure name then?"
"Well..."
Another Slytherin snickers, "I suppose one of your folk has fallen into temptation. Eh, Malfoy?"
His grandfather scowls and walks a step closer, "Black, you ought to--"
"Malfoy," Riddle calls out, not in a threatening tone, but his voice commands the entire room. Instantly Malfoy falls back. The Head Boy turns his gaze to Black and titles his head. "Black. A quite distasteful speculation. Don't you agree?"
"I-uh-Well," the buffoon stutters. Serves him right for insulting the Malfoy Family Draco inwardly thinks. "Uh, yes... By the way, where's Evans?" He quickly adds.
Instead of answering, Riddle whispers in a hush tone. From the other room a snake slithers past them all latching to Riddle's leg and traveling up his torso to his shoulder. He exhales and pats its head.
"Don't fret. This is Nagini, she'll also be one of your new housemates," Riddle's mouth from a smile.
"Welcome to Hogwarts."
Chapter Text
One week.
One. Week.
They have been stuck in late-summer of 1942, for a whole bloody week. It'll be autumn by this rate. What would become of their timeline the longer they stay? What's happening in their timeline now? Could Snape already have finished the task, or were his parents already finished? What is taking Potter so long? Why are they still here?
This past week has felt longer than a lifetime. The only thing keeping Draco's sanity in tact was gaining House Points. Because the classes he attends: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, Care of the Magical Creatures, Divination, History of Magic, and Astronomy isn't too dissimilar to his bountiful knowledge, so he's able to excel. Honestly, without that know-it-all mudblood he could be top in every class. But...
Riddle is a force to be reckoned with.
His display in power is effortless. His demeanor commanded the room's attention. The way he answers all the questions, with grace and class, how he easily outperformed all the other Houses, and while walking through Hogwarts' corridors, it's to be expected all the other students flocked to him like bees to honey. Even the professors aren't immune to his charming nature. Truth be told he is brilliant, charismatic, and albeit, easy on the eyes. Tom Riddle, the future Dark Lord, has such a promising past. There is no doubt, he will accomplish much in the future. He was a true Slytherin through and through.
On the other hand, watching the residential fake Slytherin was like pulling teeth. Draco knew Potter was a git, but not to this extent! Draco hardly ever saw Potter, not for meals or in the common room. Only in classes. Where, Harry Potter, the infamous Boy Who Lived, his sworn rival, acting like an utter idiot. Potter wouldn't raise his hand, and when called him he would fumble by answering even the simple questions incorrectly. No, no, he spent most of his time dozing off in class, disappearing during the set study hours, mindlessly laughing at his own jokes, and losing battles on purpose.
Honestly, it brings Draco sadistic joy watching Potter get reprimanded, but not at the expense of the Slytherin's House. More and more points were deducted solely by Potter. Perhaps he's playing a game, dead sent on sabotaging the House from the inside. Potter became even more irritating, than before. Draco couldn't use his usual tactics against him, because he needed him to get home. Ridiculous.
However... There were times, where those two forces met. He would briefly catch Potter's interactions with Riddle. How he evades all his questions, avoids conversation, and gives vague responses. Strangely, Riddle is quite persistent in gaining Not The Boy Who Lived's attention. Maybe Potter isn't as good at "keeping a low profile" as he thinks he is.
At noon, all the students head to the Great Hall for lunch. Draco sighs, stabbing at his roasted potatoes. He feels the seat move beside him and several other Slytherins join him at the dinner table. Over the past week, he got along with the group. Often talking about difficulties in their classes, Quidditch playthroughs, or insulting Gryffindors. They are suitable company, but without his Pureblood name, they didn't respect Draco as much as he deserves. Previously, they tried to pry open his past, but he kept his answers vague, opting to bash every mudblood he sees.
"McClure!" Avery greets, patting him on the back, "Heard you are pretty good at Potions, mind giving me a hand?"
He scoffs in response, "Wouldn't it be better if Riddle gave you tips?"
"Riddle is the most brilliant student Hogwarts has to offer. Of course he would be the best tutor, but he's so busy with all his Prefect and Head Boy duties. Along with other activities. So he can't waste his precious time tutoring students beneath him," Lestrange scoffs at Avery and turns his head to gaze at Riddle.
Riddle is still at the entrance of the Great Hall, cornering Potter. But, of course, keeps his head downwards trying to escape.
How pathetic.
"Yeah," Avery agrees while posting at the insult. "That's why you should help me."
"Charming and brilliant, aren't you McClure?" Mulciber grins.
Black nudges Lestrange, to his left, "Maybe McClure will replace this pretty blonde soon, eh Lestrange?"
Lestrange doesn't respond, but instead glares at the interaction between Riddle and Potter.
Is Riddle petting Potter?
"Lestrange--"
This grandfather's eyes darken at the ill-willed joke. Draco shakes his head, "No, I know the Excellency of Malfoy and I expect you all to do the same."
Lestrange, Avery, Black, Rosier, Mulciber, and Nott all had the same surprised look on their face, but Malfoy blinks and inwardly grins, "I suppose there is hope for you yet, McClure."
Lestrange eyes shine brightly turning to Riddle who was approaching, "Riddle!"
Roiser perks up, "McClure has so much promise, doesn't he? Perhaps a fine candidate for our other activities?"
Riddle's slightly stunned face becomes neutral looking at his group. He glances at Draco then at Malfoy. He hums, "Hmm, perhaps so."
Malfoy glares at Draco again, but his eyes shift downwards realizing Riddle is watching.
"McClure, I applaud you. It can be difficult due to the effects of the war. It's admirable how spirited you are as compared to Evans," Riddle sits in between Malfoy and Black. He taps his fingers and Lestrange gives him a plate and utensils. He then asks, "Maybe you can help him break out of his shell?"
Lestrange rolls his eyes, "Why do you even bother with a no-name loner like him? He isn't even a Pureblood."
"Yeah, McClure is much better, and easier to talk to!" Mulciber adds.
"Hey! Evans is cuter. Like a little skittish kitten," Black laughs.
Riddle gives a single glance, and all of his lackeys shut up. He then returns to his pleasant exterior and smiles at Draco, "I prefer all the 'pride Slytherin' have a sense of unity, and reach their... Full potential."
Draco snorts, "Ha, Pott-- Potty... mouth... a prideful Slytherin?" He trails off.
"Potty mouth?" Nott chimes in.
"I didn't know that Evans swore," Black says slightly delighted and thoroughly impressed.
"Oh... He's... Absolutely filthy. It's mouth is a disaster zone. He tends to spout out complete nonsense," Draco shovels more food in his yapper.
"Really?" Riddle rest his chin on his hand, "Well, I'll be sure to ask him about that."
The interaction with Riddle could have gone smoother, but it's Potter who got Draco into this mess, so he should expect these situations to arise due to his incompetence. No, Draco had done nothing wrong. If Potter truly cared, he would have already found the ingredients to complete the potion, they would have been home by now. So in the meantime, Draco would work on his assignments, then the Slytherin will--
A focused blast shoots Draco into an empty room, far from any prying eyes. His head hits the back wall with a heavy thud, and he looks up to see dirt brown eyes glaring at him.
"This is you keeping a low profile?" Potter spits.
"Tsk," Draco stands dusting off his uniform, "I am a Malfoy. Despite what name you call me. And Malfoys live spectacularly. A Potter on the other hand lacks, all grace and nuance. In fact, I'm inclined to believe you bloody enjoy it here."
"Enjoying, what?" He snaps back.
"Of course, all Gryffindors are bloody idiots! You enjoy tainting the Slytherin's name! You can't stand your House not being in the lead, so you are sabotaging mine!"
"What?!"
"Exactly how is acting like a Gryffindor while you're in Slytherin 'keeping a low profile'? Sleeping in class? You stick out like a sore bloody thumb. You need to act like a Slytherin to be in Slytherin," Draco folds his arms.
"Hey! I asked the Sorting Hat to put me here and he agreed. I have been up all night trying to find the Ancient Books. And I found it! But of course, there is an enchantment on it, so now I have to duplicate the entire book! It's exhausting!"
"What happened to not meddling with time? You don't care about bringing us home, do you?!"
"Oh, dear Merlin! Draco, you're delusional!"
"Confringo!" Draco yells.
Potter dodges, and one of the back plants bursts into flame. The Gryffindor shifts his shoulders and stands upright. He flicks down his wrist and a wand appears in his hand.
Now, this is the Potter Draco was used too.
The two yell spells at each other. Some of them barely graze and others have a direct hit. Nothing else in this moment mattered, except beating their rival. Then Potter's mouth slightly forms into a smile, it's like he missed dueling at his full potential.
Draco hurls another spell towards Potter, he does avoid the attack, but stops to fiddle with his right eye. A single moment of weakness is all Draco needs.
He smirks and yells, "Aguamenti!"
A gush of water flourishes towards Potter knocking him down to the ground, his wand ripples back to Draco. While water washes over Potter, pride washes through him. He pants lightly, tired from their duel.
"Oh, what's wrong, Potter? Forgot how to fight?!"
Draco walks towards the wand and picks it up.
"What is-- This isn't your wand. So that's why you have been performing worse than a Weasley!"
Potter clicks his tongue, "Watch it!" He sighs and shakes the wetness off his robe, "It's one I found alright? Unlike you I'm still trying to lay low." He blinks.
Wonderful job, Draco thinks sarcastically. One of Potter's eyes becomes a familiar emerald green. Not that Draco cared much for the color, but it's something he could never look away from.
"Your eye... Did you spell yourself to change your eye color?"
"They're color contacts, Draco," Potter rolls his eyes, looking for the apparent "contacts".
"...Contacts?"
Potter pauses. He picks up a small circular disk and holds it on the tip of his finger. The Gryffindor tilts his head, "Yeah, contacts. You know, stick it in your eyes, replace glasses. These ones can change my eye color. I don't have to worry about fading with a muggle invention."
He smiles, then his right eye waters. "Ouch, it's starting to hurt though." Potter looks up and places the contact back into his eye. Green turns back into brown.
Could it be, the reasons behind Draco's victory be because Potter's disobedient wand and his eye troubles? A win is a win, no matter the circumstances. But why didn't he...
He scoffs, "You are rusty. It's pathetic! We'll go again tonight, and for Merlin's sake bring your glasses."
Silent fills the room.
Draco turns to see Potter simply looking at him. His expression is strange, but unreadable.
"Well?" Draco presses.
"...Nothing. Looking forward to it, McClure," Potter smiles.
"Whatever Pot... Evans."
Draco and Potter leave the room, after cleaning up their mess. No one would question its state.
"McClure!" Black calls out from the end of the hallway, "Woah, Evans is here too-- Wait, why are you wet?"
Potter's words fall, he looks stunned to see Black. It's like he is enhanced by Black's sudden appearance. Is Potter smitten with him?
Draco clears his throat, "I was teaching him a simple spell and he couldn't even manage that."
"So you won't tutor Avery, but Evans is fine?" Black chuckles, then turns back to Potter sympathetically. "Oh, wait!" He digs through his bag and pulls out a small towel. He smiles, "Here, use this."
Potter bites his lip.
"T-thank you..."
He hesitantly takes the towel and stares longer at Black than he should. Black tilts his head and chuckles lightly. Then Potter reaches for his forehead. A gasp slips his lips and his bangs fall over his eyes.
"Black, McClure," Riddle calls out, walking alongside Malfoy. As he gets close he pauses in front of Potter. "And Evans."
"Riddle," both Draco and Black respond, while Potter gives an acknowledging nod.
"Good work Black," Riddle praises and Black grins at Malfoy. Then Riddle mumbles, "It's always strange how elucid you two become once you are together..." He stares at Potter then turns his gaze to Draco.
"Now, the reason for my sudden appearance. McClure, I must say, I'm impressed with the skill set you have presented this week. It's rather outstanding than anything else," the Head Boy says with a silky tone.
And the silky tone went straight to Draco's ego, because of course a Malfoy, such as himself deserves all the praise and admiration all had to give. He grins, "I do appreciate you rather generous compliment." Draco could tell Potter is rolling his eyes, but it almost looks like his grandfather has the same reaction.
"Even the others are awestruck with you. So it'll be an honor for you to join us for a special meeting later this evening."
"What?! He's only been here a week!" Malfoy snaps back, but instantly regrets it when he sees the look on the Head Boy's face.
Riddle's eyes narrow and Malfoy, and he repeats to a submissive silence. "Well?"
"Tonight," Draco repeats, mainly to himself.
"Oh, is that a problem?" Malfoy asks, with hope glistening in his eyes.
"No, no," Draco shakes his head, "I will cancel other plans." He eyes slightly glance in Potter's direction.
Potter pauses, but eventually returns a nod. Guess even a Gryffindor is able to understand subtle cues, once in a blue moon.
"Well, I'll be off to study Potions. Thank you for the towel, Black. I'll return it soon," Potter mumbles, trying to leave.
"Evans," Riddle turns past Draco. It's like Riddle saw through Potter's feeble attempt to escape.
"Now, I never want you to feel excluded. You can come..."
Riddle leans down, invading Potter's personal space. He grabs the towel on Potter's head. The dampness from Potter's hair absorbs into the cloth darkening its color. Riddle rubs the towel on Potter's cheek, "As my personal guest."
Did Potter become bright pink? Getting trapped in 1942 was unexpected, but not as unexpected as learning about Potter's sexual preferences. Tall with dark hair. Interesting.
"No!" Potter shouts.
For a brief moment, Riddle's and Potter's eyes meet. "I mean," he returns his gaze back to the ground. "My grades are surely slipping... Best to put all the effort I can."
Malfoy and Black lost their breath, anxiously awaiting Riddle's response. Draco turns to look at the Head Boy as well. Riddle's eyes twitched ever so slightly, but he readjust his posture.
"Shame. But if you must."
The Gryffindor nods and runs down the hallway. Riddle's eyes don't leave Potter until he turns the corner.
He sighs, smiling back at Draco, "McClure."
Draco nods, "Riddle."
Then Riddle, Malfoy, and Black walk away.
One week he's been stuck here, but Draco found himself looking forward to tonight.
Notes:
Next chapter from Harry's POV
Chapter 4: Old Prophecy, New Solution
Chapter Text
A cloudless night with a new moon, the sun's light won't fall upon the lands. Tonight's the night. Now, is the time to execute Dumbledore's plan.
Over the past summer, Dumbledore took Harry from the Dursley’s and brought him to a safe house. There the discussed Voldemort's past. He was a troubled child, who soon became the most horrific Dark Lord, but there's another way to stop him.
By returning to 1942.
Dark Ancient Magic has its risks, it could change the future, or destroy it, so all Harry was given is a day.
One single day.
Nothing major, but a simple shift. Harry had to change the course of time in order to stop Voldemort from ever existing.
Dumbledore and himself, searched through history to find a transfer student. A student who was already sorted, but never showed. Then they would use his records to create a foundation for Harry's backstory. Though it didn't need to be too elaborate, after all, Harry would be returning by nightfall.
The new semester of Harry's sixth year started, but he had other plans. In the dead of night, he stole a Slytherin's uniform, almost running into Draco Malfoy. Luckily, the Invisibility Cloak did its job. Harry walks to the Room of Requirement and opens the door.
On the ground, a summoning circle, already prepared for him. A single use. One way in and one way out.
He reaches in his bag and takes out the Slytherin's robe, then puts on two brown colored contacts. He pulls out Ancient Time Runes Dumbledore had written for him. With a single flick of the wand all the symbols transcribe to the circle. Harry inhales as he cuts his palm. The blood drips into the ring on the ground and the symbols light up.
Exhaling he walks in.
"Harry Potter," a voice whispers his name.
"Harry Potter," another voice repeats.
Who are they?
Before he could question more, his existence morphs inwards and outwards, being pulled like taffy. His limbs attach and detached, flowing opposite from time. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, and his blood traverses through him. The next moment he opens his eyes, inside the walls of Hogwarts. The specks of magic swirl around the room. Harry takes out an hourglass. Then watches as the specks turn into sand, tricking downwards.
Timer starts now.
Harry quickly hides his belongings in the back of the room, only pulling out a stack of his false documents. Then he walks to the Headmaster's office.
"Be careful. Tom Riddle is a master at Legilimency. He is incapable of feeling love; he wasn't made for it. No matter what he says, no matter what he does. He cannot be trusted. Don't reveal the future to anyone. Not even to me. Good luck, Harry," Dumbledore's words echo in the forefront of his mind.
Right, it's a simple mission to travel back to 1942 and stop Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort. Harry needs to go unnoticed, destroy Riddle's resources, and get out.
But, of course Lady Luck would prefer to make Harry her toy for her amusement. Harry runs face first into another student.
"Sorry! I was distract...." His words trail off. His eyes could tear away from the student's dark hair, his eyes, his posture.
It was all too familiar.
It was Sirius Black.
Albeit, some of the features are off, the resemblance is remarkable. The boy was like a younger Sirius. Harry's mouth gapes open and his words stay stuck in his throat.
"Aww," the student chuckles, "How could I be mad at a face like that?" He glances down towards Harry's robes, "Slytherin? Odd, I don't recognize you. I'm Orion Black. Are you new?"
An uncomfortable itch hits the top of his head, but Harry ignores it. He, still staring, repeats, "Black--"
"Black," a voice calls out from behind them.
"Riddle," Black smiles and gestures him closer. "Look, a new exchange student! Already sorted in Slytherin."
Riddle. Tom Riddle. Soon to be Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The unconditional poke to his scar, was Riddle? Why did it feel different from the other times Voldemort arrived? Why is there still a connection between them? Hopefully, he won't find out about it.
Unlike, Voldemort's horrid features, like his pale scaly skin, or his slits for a nose, Riddle is normal. Well, normal is an understatement, he's very dashing. His hair is jet black, without a single strand out of place, tall, and had dark blue eyes. His jawline is sharp and defined, with his lips in a thin line. He looks so confident, dashing, charming, and sane. While Voldemort would plague his dreams with horrid nightmares, Harry wouldn't mind staring at Riddle more.
Harry shakes his head, what was he just thinking?
He instantly looks down, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. He remembers Dumbledore's warning, even at this age he was a master at Legilimency.
Riddle strolls between them and extends his hand, "I wasn't aware of a new student. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Tom Riddle, Head Boy and Prefect of Slytherin House. And you are?"
Harry doesn't shake Riddle's hand. Instead he creases the papers with his thumbs, trying to shift back behind Black.
"Evans. Sixth year," he whispers lowly.
"...I see," Riddle's hand returns to his side. A hint of bitterness can be heard in his voice.
Was he offended that Harry didn't want to shake his hand?
Riddle clears his throat, "Black, even though you were helping a new student, this won't excuse you for being tardy. I'll be taking your documents." Riddle takes the file from his hands.
"Hey--"
"Come on, Evans. You probably have this class too!" Black lightly tugs Harry's robe, and with a face like Sirius, Harry doesn't pull away, so runs with Black.
Was it a good idea for Riddle to get hold of his so-called records?
"Phew, made it," Black exhales. "This is Defence, a dueling format class, that's Professor Merrythought. She's a little prickly, but overall a good teacher."
Harry and Black make their way in the center of the swarm of students. From the side Harry sees a newspaper, and picks it up from the ground. The images on the front page move and circle back into a loop. It said, "Dark Lord Grindelwald Strikes Again, The War Continues. Plans for future attacks are in motion. Summer issue 1942."
He shivers, Harry really didn't want to stick around for the horrors the rest of the year would bring. Soon after classes are over, he is back on his plan to get rid of Voldemort. Several more battles commence, each one becomes more and more tiresome. Harry would have to think of an excuse to leave soon.
"Professor Merrythought," a distinct voice projects from the other side of the room.
"Oh, Mr. Riddle, thank you for joining us," she replies.
"I apologize for my absence. I was delivering documents from our newest student. Harrison Evans!" Riddle announces Harry's alias.
Did he read the files instead of delivering them?
Immediately, the students turn his way, murmuring about his sudden appearance. Harry curses, he liked it much better before when they focused on the battles. Black nudges him forward to the Professor. On the ground, he sees a chipped wand, and quickly picks it up without anyone noticing.
Harry slowly walks up to Professor Merrythought, and she pats his shoulder, "Evans is it? Well, welcome to Hogwarts. Always exciting to see a new face. Let's see what you can do. Hmm..."
She piers around the room, "Ah, Malfoy! Step this way please."
Malfoy? The student with Slytherin robes, platinum blonde hair, and silver eyes walks up. Abraxas Malfoy, Draco's grandfather. He really did look like Draco, but with longer hair.
"I suppose someone from your House would be a good person to spar with. Wands up!" Professor Merrythought orders.
Is he supposed to duel now?
Harry glances at Riddle. This was his plan, was it? Trying to get a reading of his skills.
Don't trust Riddle.
Don't trust Riddle.
No, Harry wouldn't play into his little mind games. There is no point in going all out in this fight. He won't even show his power at all. Harry watches the way Malfoy arm flicks. Harry needs to lean to the right to take the hit.
3...
2...
1...
Now!
The spell hits Harry's chest and he falls back, slamming on the ground. The rest of the student body cheers for the Malfoy. Chatter and chanting fill the room. Harry slowly gets up; his bangs cover his eyes. He never breaks eye contact with the ground while he shakes Malfoy's hand.
Good, now maybe he could go to the infirmary and get in with his mission--
"What is the meaning of this?!" Someone from the crowd yells.
His voice sounds like...
Harry's mouth gapes open.
Draco?!
"Young man, how dare you interrupt my lesson?" Professor Merrythought stands in-between them.
"Who are you?" Malfoy eyes Draco up and down.
Draco growls, as if personally offended, "What? 'Who am I?' How prosperous! You dare not know my name?! It's Draco, Draco Mal--"
"McClure!" Harry shouts, grabbing Draco's robes, he stealthy rips the Prefect pin off.
"What?! Unhand me this instant! Pott--" Harry wordlessly casts Silencio on Draco. What is Draco doing here? How did he even get here? He's going to ruin everything!
"Wasn't part of the plan," he mumbles.
"Speak up, Evans," she orders.
Harry's eyes snap into focus. He needs to come up with a good lie. He tells her Draco is from the same neighbor that was attacked by Grindelwald, and he needs to bring him to the Headmaster. Riddle takes a step forward, but Harry grabs Draco by the arm and insists not to waste her precious class time. She agrees.
Harry drags Draco into an empty room and locks the doors. As soon as Draco could speak again he yells and rants, making far too much noise, so Harry throws the newspaper in his face. Sadly, that only stunned Draco for a moment, because right after he goes off screaming again.
How did Draco even get here?!
The vein next to Harry's scar starts pulsing, but Harry tries to calm down and explain the situation to the loud-mouth Malfoy. They'll only be here until the sand reaches the bottom of the hourglass then they can head back. After all it's Professor Dumbledore's Tempus Commutatus summon circle. A way in and a way out...
Harry freezes, and the hourglass shatters on the floor. His right hand curls up and turns white. Draco attempts to rage again, but enough is enough.
Harry punches Draco in the face.
"You were there last night, weren't you?! You followed me! Draco, you complete bloody git!! The summon circle wasn't made for two! It was my gateway between time! Go in and get out! Now, you're here! The bond is broken!!"
Draco's eye twitches. His cheek turns red, "Are you saying we are stuck here?!" Draco lifts his wand and fires a spell.
Unlike the duel with Malfoy, Harry doesn't need to play dumb. He dodges, and snaps into a dueling stance. But his left foot slides on the sand and a crunch breaks the wooden base of the hourglass.
The thud sounded hollow.
Without breaking eye contact Harry bends down and shifts through the broken pieces and finds a folded piece of paper. It's a list of ingredients. Angel's Trumpet, Arncia, Avocado seed, Baneberry, Bezoar, cinnamon, even some impossible, Basilisk's venom? Phoenix's Ashes? The measurements are there too.
"Truce," Harry says breathing in. His own anger simmering down. He cautiously shuffles over to Draco's side. He holds out the paper.
"Tsk," Draco snatches it from his hands. He scoffs, "The old coot made an impossible potion. How will this help us?!"
"It says 'Final Gambit', like as a last resort it could help us get back," Potter takes the list back. He sighs, "But it'll take a while for us to get these ingredients..."
"Well, do whatever it takes, Potter!"
"Enough with the 'Potter', alright?" Harry hisses. "While we're here we can't reveal our true names. What exactly do you think will happen if the Aurors find us using the forbidden Time Magic? What do you think will happen to the future? I am keeping a low profile, and I insist you do the same. Refer to me as Evans."
A thought crosses Harry's mind and he grins, "But if you can't manage that, feel free to call me by my first name."
"I'd rather chew off my tongue," Draco snaps back.
Harry rolls his eyes. Draco should start chewing then.
"Whatever. Remember you are Draco McClure, not Malfoy. You already saw the Malfoy that belongs here."
Draco grins with a delightful hum, "Well, it seems any Malfoy will beat you, eh Potter?"
"Evans," Harry snaps back.
"What a pathetic Muggle name," Draco's taunting voice hums lightly.
"Watch it. It's my mother's maiden name," Harry threatens.
"Well, I suppose it's a pathetic mudblood name, now doesn't it?" Draco smirks.
"You--"
"Alohomora!" A voice from outside yells.
It's Malfoy.
He tells them that Riddle is looking for both of them. Great, the one Harry is trying to avoid at all cost is now looking for him. Harry leaves the classroom first, then the three of them walk to the Headmaster's office. They travel through the corridors and hallway, in a comfortable silence. Well, much nicer than when Draco squawks at him. Then his scar twitches just like before. Malfoy halts mid-step and his whole demeanor changes. Immediately, Harry looks down and uses his hair to cover his eyes.
"Ah, Malfoy you found them. Well done," Riddle praises Malfoy, who enjoyed the compliment a little too much in Harry's opinion.
In the blink of an eye, Riddle appears right in front of Harry. "Evans, there's no shame in asking for help. Next time I'll accompany you," he says politely.
Riddle acting sweet and kind? A trick he won't fall for it. Harry bites his tongue before the comment slips out of his mouth. He simply shakes his head and casually moves aside. Riddle then introduces himself to Draco, dismisses Malfoy, and escorts them to the Headmaster's office himself. Great.
Harry makes sure that Riddle is as far away from him as possible. Why couldn't the pre-Voldemort walk faster? Riddle attempts some small talk to get more information on both Harry and Draco, but Harry glares at Draco silently telling him "Don't say anything."
Of course, the bloody git rambles on anyway. Harry thought he would regret punching Draco, but not anytime soon. And it felt good, so...
Suddenly, Riddle stands in front of Harry, face to face. "You bite more than you bark. Don't you, Evans?"
Harry's bangs smoothly slide over his eyes once again. Why is Riddle so keen on using Legilimency on him? Why does he have to get so close?
Harry shrugs.
Finally, after an eternity, Riddle moves.
They make it inside the Headmaster's office. Harry half-expected to see Dumbledore once again, but instead he sees Headmaster Dippet. He checks Harry's files and everything is in order. Suppose Riddle did deliver his records safety to the authorities.
"But you..." Harry snaps his head to Draco. "Now, McClure was it? I seem to have no records of you," Headmaster Dippet says.
Draco clears his throat, "Well, sir, I was on my way, but I must have gotten lost along the way. See, I heard a duel."
"Really, now?" Riddle cuts in the conversation. "Because your outburst in Professor Merrythought was very brash. Almost as you were confused."
This isn't good. Riddle is trying to expose Draco. Harry didn't know how it would impact the future, but he had to do something.
Harry mumbles under his breath.
"Anything to share, Evans?" Riddle shifts his attention to him. Good, the smug bastard took the bait.
The headmaster turns his gaze to him as well.
"I said, he wasn't supposed to be here," Harry says louder.
"Evans?" Dippet asks, pressing for more.
Harry rushes to the headmaster's desk and slams his hands on the table, "Draco McClure wasn't even supposed to be here! I heard his father say to escape the war they were going to the Americas. I didn't think he needed his Hogwarts application! So, I-- So, I switched his name for mine..."
Silence fills the room. Harry silently curses, did he overdo his performance?
Dippet is the first to break the quiet bubble, "Evans, is what you are saying true?"
"...Yes sir. When McClure saw me dueling Malfoy he knew I wasn't supposed to be here. Instinctively, I dragged him away so he won't reveal my background. He threatened to tell you, so I... Well, it explains the injury on his face." Harry needs to believe the lie.
His voice softens and his eyes return to the ground. "I'm sorry McClure. I just wanted to leave the war..."
"As did I," Draco adds, with a snap in his voice. Good, at least Draco got the cue to play along.
The headmaster rises from his seat and looks out the window. He stretches the back of his neck and sighs, "Riddle."
"Yes, sir?"
"Please escort McClure back to the Slytherin Dormitory. Evans and I have much to discuss," Dippet orders, gentle signaling both of them. Draco and Riddle bow their heads and leave. When the door closes, Harry exhales.
"Evans."
"Yes, sir?"
"Please explain to me exactly what happened," Dippet returns to his desk.
He didn't think that far ahead. Harry bites his lip. Maybe a bit of the truth would be the best option.
"Sir. My parents died when I was very young, and I lived with my Muggle relatives who hated magic. In hopes of a better future, my new guardian sent out to find a way into Hogwarts this school year. We looked for an application, a student, someone who wasn't coming. Then we used their information to get in, because I myself... Can't," Harry sighs, "But I want to be here, I need to be here! Please.."
It's Dippet's turn to sigh, "I sympathize with those affected by the war. I cannot allow this sort of thievery. You almost robbed McClure of his education!"
In a way, he already did...
Harry's eyes falls to the floor.
Dippet pulls out his wand and changes all of "Harrison Evans" documents into "Draco McClure". Then three objects float his way. One, new documents for Harry to fill out. Two, a feather for him to write. Three, the... The Sorting Hat.
"Sir?" Harry gasps.
"Harrison Evans, you will be attending Hogwarts this year, please fill out the documents to the best of your abilities. On McClure's file he had already been sorted into Slytherin. So let's see where you may go," he places the Sorting Hat on top of Harry's head.
As the hat is placed on Harry's head, a wave of nostalgic washes over him. He remembers back during simpler times, when Voldemort wasn't a name he knew. No, he was just a boy who had been neglected and abused his whole life, but by chance he entered into a magical world that changed him completely. Now, he has to do what he can to save it.
"This isn't the first time you have been sorted now is it?" the Hat whispers. "No, no. I remember you... Harry Potter."
Harry's eyes widen, "What? B-but how? That's years into the future!"
"Time doesn't apply to me. Neither does dimension, nor space. I simply am," the Hat responds. "Now where to put you... Back into Gryffindor? No, no... Perhaps the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuffs?"
Harry bites his lips, "Please, I need to be in Slytherin this time."
"Hmph, so be it." The hat yells out, "Slytherin!"
Dippet hummus in approval signing the rest of Harry's papers. "Well, young Evans. I officially welcome you into Hogwarts."
"Thank you sir."
The documents took ages to complete, when they were done it became late in the evening. After his meeting with Dippet, Harry steps out for the office only to see a familiar face. Someone who he trusted with his entire being, but the man who stands before him is younger, much younger than the one he knows. His wrinkles are not yet fully formed. His hair is not completely white and his beard is slowly growing out.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry says absentmindedly.
"Yes?" Dumbledore replies. He slightly scoffs at his Slytherin's color, but then moves upwards to Harry's face. "Hmm, I don't recall your name."
"Oh, uh... I'm a new transfer student. Evans. Harrison Evans."
"I see... Welcome to Hogwarts," the old wizard nods politely.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry says again.
The professor pauses and turns back with his eyebrows raised, "Yes? What is it?"
"I-I... Sir I--" a memory cuts Harry off.
"Don't reveal the future to anyone. Not even to me." His Dumbledore's words linger.
The boy sighs, "Sir, I wish you a good night."
Dumbledore nods, "Well, to you my boy."
Watching professor Dumbledore walk away made Harry's heart ache, but...
He has to return the room he entered, and regather all his supplies. His glasses, his wand, Cloak of Invisibility, Marauder's Map, and the textbook Advanced Potion-Making annotated by an old student called "Half-Blood Prince".
Hindsight, it isn't much, but Harry didn't plan on staying there for more than a day. Gathering up all his belongings, he makes his way back to the bedroom for the night.
Harry let his mind wander and his feet do the walking. What if he and Draco were stuck here forever? What if he couldn't stop Riddle? What if-- No... No, he couldn't think that way, Voldemort couldn't win. He won't let him. Though, the original plan wouldn't work anymore, he can surely think of something else.
Maybe... If Riddle never found the Chamber of Secrets then maybe he will never have killed Moaning Myrtle, or reached his blood lust. Harry won't give up. For Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, everyone. He won't let them down.
Harry almost turns to the Gryffindor House, but heads left to the Slytherin House, then he tells the password and the doors open for them. The Slytherin's Common Room is different from the Gryffindor, while the Lions were more comforting and warm, everything here is exquisite and poised.
His scar tingles again.
That means--
"Riddle!" Harry gasps. He turns around only to be face to face with Riddle.
Riddle looks surprised, his arm reached out about to touch Harry's shoulder. It's almost as if he was trying to catch Harry off guard.
He slowly pulls his arm back, returning with his dashing smile, "Evans, you were gone for quite a while. I was worried you lost your way again. I recall saying 'next time I'll accompany you'. I should've stayed and helped you fill out your forms. It'll help me to get to know you."
His silky tone travels up Harry's spine. Harry bites his lips.
Amused, he adds, "The beds are upstairs in the room to your left. Do you need assistance in getting situated?"
Riddle is being oddly kind and attentive towards him. Maybe due to the fact he is a new student? Draco probably had gotten the exact same treatment. Was he trying to appeal to all of Slytherin? Whatever he was doing, Harry won't let his guard down. Instead of answering, he shakes his head.
Riddle sighs, stepping back. "Well, come to me if you have any problems." He returns to his own personal room.
Perks of a Head Boy, Harry thinks.
"Good night, Evans." Riddle stares at him into the door and it clicks shut.
Harry exhales the breath he didn't know he's been holding. He creeps into the bedroom to see several other Slytherins are already asleep. His eyes wander around the room and fall on Draco. At least he's getting a good night's rest. Harry walks to an empty bed and places charms and protection around his trunk. He grabs the Marauder's Map and puts on the Cloak of Invisibility.
"It's going to be a long night."
A week slips past him, because mentally, Harry is on day three. In the dead of night, is the best time for Harry to continue his mission. It works out, because every time in the dark, his dreams would become nightmares of Voldemort's victory. Class time became his nap time, it's not his fault all the professors had a dry cadence to their voice. He would jolt awake to see Draco glaring at him, and then the Professors docked points from the Slytherin House. Not like it really matters.
But it mattered to some. Draco needs to tone down his "Malfoy-ness". He was gathering too much attention. Well, his appearance itself already did that, but he could have blended in the masses more. Instead, he raises his hand as much as possible and boasts about his knowledge every time he gets the correct answer. When the awestruck reaction comes he basks in the glory. Draco was treating this like his own time, even provoking Harry to join him, but the Boy Who Lived knows to ignore it.
While Draco went out to get praise and admiration, Riddle received it effortlessly. He's perfect, literally perfect. In personality, intelligence, charisma, and overall stunning demeanor. He had the entire student body and the faculty in the palm of his hand.
Did no one see his manipulative personality? Or is it because of Dumbledore's warning he knew not to fall for Riddle's charms?
Harry always knew when Riddle was coming. From both his scar acting up as well as the swarm of people always surrounding him, but Riddle forced interactions were getting harder and harder to avoid. Luckily, he evades the questions well enough.
Why is he so persistent in getting his attention? Harry didn't do anything interesting or noteworthy, did he?
Harry rubs his eyes, really wishing he brought more supplies. The endless "Reparo" he did to the color contacts didn't stop them from irritating his vision. He's committed to the search for the book that contained the Founding Fathers of Hogwarts. He actually found it the first day, but its enchantments were too strong, so he had to rewrite the entire book. Then edit the chapters about the Chamber of Secrets. He put a fail safe, just in case.
It would be amusing to see Riddle waltz in the headmaster's office singing future 90's songs in Parselmouth, hoping to open the Chamber. If only he could see it for himself.
Harry chuckles to himself.
"Something funny Evans?" Professor Dumbledore glares at him disapproving.
"I, uh..." Harry stutters, "No, sir, just a trick to keep myself awake."
"I see. Fifty points from Slytherin. Try to do your sleeping at night," he scoffs.
The Slytherins groan with the other houses snickering. Even without looking Harry could feel Draco shooting daggers his way.
The next few classes flew by faster than Harry could blink, but he might have dozed off in a couple of them. Thankfully, it's lunchtime. Harry would rather stay far away from the Great Hall if he could, opting for getting snacks from the elves in the kitchen. He honestly didn't need to be acquainted with the Future Death Eaters, but watching Draco talk to them made him miss Ron and Hermione.
He didn't feel right in the Slytherin House. He didn't have anyone to confide in. It's like they are speaking a language he can't learn or understand...
But feeling that way won't get him any closer in stopping Voldemort, so he simply focused on his mission.
Today, he'd speak with Draco.
At noon he enters the Great Hall, however a couple steps in, his scar tingles.
Nope, nope, nope.
Time to leave.
"Evans," Riddle's voice rings behind him.
Just keep walking, Harry tells himself. A bit further and he's out of there.
A long arm blocks the doorway, Riddle steps forward locking Harry in place. "Evans," Riddle says again this time with more power.
"Oh, Riddle. I...I didn't hear you," Harry mumbles lightly bangs in front of his brown eyes.
Riddle pauses for a brief moment. Then hums, "No matter. I caught you now."
Riddle's concerns are so fake. Everything he said sounds rehearsed a thousand times. Like he knew exactly how he needed to phrase things to get what he wanted. Although, the depth of his voice was... Harry shakes his head, he needs to get out of here.
He coughs, "I'm rather busy. See, I have to meet Professor Slughorn about my... Potion's grade."
"I won't take up too much of your time," Riddle settles his hand on Harry's shoulders.
He flinches ever so slightly. Riddle's touch isn't unpleasant, and that may be a problem in of itself.
"This past week I have rarely seen you at all. Not in the Common Room nor in the Great Hall. Has the war impacted you that much? Nightmare that leaves your body exhausted?" He stares at the circles underneath his eyes.
His voice lowers, "I know there have been difficulties involving your past with McClure. I'm worried with him adjusting so well, you might feel alone."
How did he effortlessly hit the nail on the mark? Are Harry's emotions so obvious?
"Know that you are not. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Riddle plays with the tip of Harry's bangs, pushing some away.
He grazes his scar.
Shockwaves pulse through Harry's veins.
An intense unknown emotion washes through him.
They both freeze.
"Evans," Riddle says in an alarmed tone. "What was--"
Harry pushes him away. "I have to get going now!" Then he rushes out without a proper farewell.
Harry sprints down the halls panting heavily. What was that? Riddle was so close. Too close! That has never happened before when Voldemort touched him. An electrocution through his whole body. It felt like his soul was yearning for Riddle? Heat rises up to Harry's cheeks out of rage and humiliation, right? That has to be it. Clearly, it was Riddle's part of his plan for conquest.
Riddle can't be trusted.
Harry controls his breathing and touches his scar.
Nothing.
What happened before, wasn't supposed to happen. No, none of this was! The mission was supposed to be for a day. A day! Now look, he is stuck in 1942! He would have been back by how if it weren't for-- Speak of the devil. Draco walks down the hall. Harry extends his wand and points at him.
3...
2...
"Confringo!" Harry yells, blasting Draco into an empty room. He falls to the ground and when he finally looks up Harry glares at him, "This is you keeping a low profile?"
"Tsk," Draco stands dusting off his uniform, "I am a Malfoy. Despite what name you call me. And Malfoys live spectacularly. A Potter on the other hand lacks, all grace and nuance. In fact, I'm inclined to believe you bloody enjoy it here."
"Enjoying, what?" He snaps back.
"Of course, all Gryffindors are bloody idiots! You enjoy tainting the Slytherin's name! You can't stand your House not being in the lead, so you are sabotaging mine!"
"What?!"
"Exactly how is acting like a Gryffindor while you're in Slytherin 'keeping a low profile'? Sleeping in class? You stick out like a sore bloody thumb. You need to act like a Slytherin to be in Slytherin," Draco folds his arms.
"Hey! I asked the Sorting Hat to put me here and he agreed. I have been up all night trying to find the Ancient Books. And guess what? I found it! But of course, there is an enchantment on it, so now I have to duplicate the entire book! It's exhausting!"
"What happened to not meddling with time? You don't care about bringing us home, do you?!"
"Oh, dear Merlin! Draco, you're delusional!!"
"Confringo!" Draco yells the same spell back.
Harry dodges, and this time he didn't hold back. Their battle is exhilarating. Harry's pulse pounds in his ears and his blood flows through his veins. He really missed this so much. With each attack, counter, and dodge he could feel his smile growing bigger and bigger.
A sharp turn to the right causes one of Harry's contacts to slip from his pupil. He rubs it, but it provides the opening for Draco.
"Aguamenti!"
A gush of water flourishes towards Harry knocking him down to the ground, his wand ripples back to Draco.
"Oh, what's wrong, Potter? Forgot how to fight?!"
Draco walks towards the wand and picks it up. "What is-- This isn't your wand. So that's why you have been performing worse than a Weasley!"
Harry clicks his tongue, "Watch it!" He sighs and shakes the wetness off his robe, "It's one I found alright? I'm trying to lay low."
"Your eye... Did you spell yourself to change your eye color?"
"They're color contacts, Draco," Harry rolls his eyes, looking for the contact that slipped out.
"...Contacts?"
Harry picks up the contact and shows it to Draco, "Yeah, contacts. You know, stick it in your eyes, replace glasses. These ones can change my eye color. I don't have to worry about fading with a muggle invention." He smiles, then his right eyes waters. "Ouch, it's starting to hurt though." He places the contact back in his eyes.
Draco didn't know about the Muggle inventions? What else didn't he know? Though the wizarding world was amazing, it was stuck in an older time. Maybe if the two worlds could mingle, progress can help both sides.
Draco scoffs, "You are rusty. It's pathetic! We'll go again tonight, and for Merlin's sake bring your glasses."
Harry blinks.
Then blinks again.
Is Draco being nice to him?
Dueling would be great to sharpen his skill, especially after all the time of pretending to be a mediocre to terrible student. Or perhaps Draco just enjoys humiliating Harry. But either way it didn't just benefit Draco. Did he not realize it?
"Well?" Draco presses.
"...Nothing. Looking forward to it, McClure," Harry smiles.
"Whatever Pot... Evans."
After their battle Harry and Draco leave the room. They might have to use the Room of Requirements rather than keep destroying random rooms in Hogwarts.
"McClure!" Black calls out from the end of the hallway, "Woah, Evans is here too-- Wait, why are you wet?"
Harry's voice doesn't come out.
He couldn't help it. Every time he sees Black, he is reminded of Sirius. Genetics were amazing...
"I was teaching him a simple spell and he couldn't even manage that," Draco responds instead.
Black talks to Draco, but when his eyes fall back on Harry. Black gasps, then digs through his bag and pulls out a small towel. He smiles, "Here, use this."
Harry bites his lip, "T-thank you..." He hesitantly takes the towel.
Now, that isn't fair. Black is being too nice to him. Honestly, out of all the pre-Death Eaters, Black is the only one to talk to him. The others either civilly disliked him or outwardly ignored him. Sometimes while drifting off in class Harry would stare at Black wondering what it would be like if he were in the same class as Sirius and his father. Would they be as close as Ron, Hermione, and himself?
Black tilts his head and chuckles lightly. A familiar jolt forms on his forehead, breaking Harry's thoughts. A gasp slips his lips and his bangs fall over his eyes.
"Black, McClure," Riddle calls out, walking alongside Malfoy. Riddle steps in-between Harry and Black, "Evans."
"Riddle," both Draco and Black respond, while Harry gives an acknowledging nod.
"Good work Black," Riddle praises and Black grins at Malfoy. Then Riddle mumbles, "It's always strange how elucid you two become once you are together..."
He stares at Harry. A bit too long. Why was he still staring at him?
Then finally. Riddle turns his gaze to Draco. "Now the reason for my sudden appearance. McClure I must say, I'm impressed with the skill set you have presented this week. It's rather outstanding than anything else," the bastard says with his silky tone.
Draco smugly grins, "I do appreciate you rather generous compliment."
And this vain bastard really liked the ego stroke, didn't he? Harry rolls his eyes.
"Even the others are awestruck with you. So it'll be an honor for you to join us for a special meeting later this evening."
"What?! He's only been here a week!" Malfoy snaps back, but instantly regrets it when he sees the look on Riddle's face. Was there a rivalry between Malfoy and Draco?
"Well?" Riddle presses.
"Tonight," Draco repeats.
"Oh, is that a problem?" Malfoy asks, with hope glistening in his eyes.
"No, no," Draco shakes his head, "I will cancel other plans." He makes eye contact with Harry.
A secret meeting? It might be his Death Eater club, that means Riddle wants Draco to join them. Harry needs to get Draco away from them fast!
Although...
He could use this situation to his advantage. If Draco could convince Riddle he is a Death Eater through and through. Then maybe they could destroy the organization from the inside. Also if Riddle is definitely going to the meeting, then Harry won't have to worry about him on Prefect duties tonight.
Harry didn't need to be part of the conversation anymore, so he nods, "Well, I'll be off to study Potions. Thank you for the towel Black. I'll return it soon."
"Evans," Riddle towers over Harry.
"Now, I never want you to feel excluded. You can come..." He tugs the towel on Harry's head, resting both hands on his cheek. He can feel the warmth from Riddle's hands. He moves his thumb away from the towel and lightly brushes against Harry's right cheek. "As my personal guest."
Harry's face burns red.
He's so close! Will Riddle touch his scar again? Wait, that's not what he should be hoping for!
"No!" He shouts, jumping back. For a brief moment, Riddle catches Harry's eyes. No, wait, the Legilimency!
"I mean," Harry returns his gaze back to the ground. "My grades are surely slipping... Best to put all the effort I can."
Malfoy and Black lost their breath, anxiously awaiting Riddle's response. Even Draco stares. Riddle's eyes twitched ever so slightly, but he readjust his posture, "Shame. But if you must."
Harry nods and runs down the hallway. He runs and runs, until he can't anymore, so he walks. Harry places his hand on his beating heart. Something wrong with him. There has to be! It must be the connection between himself and Voldemort manifesting itself in a weird way due to Time Travel.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Harry slaps his cheeks and shakes off the pain. He needs to focus. Because while the pre-Death Eaters have their meeting tonight, this is his chance. He'll be going...
To the Chamber of Secrets.
Notes:
Next chapter: The Knights of Walpurgis Meeting and Harry enters the Chamber of Secrets.
Chapter 5: Friend is a Loose Term
Chapter Text
Noon turns into afternoon, afternoon turns to evening. Draco sits in the library brushing up on Potions. The list of ingredients past his mind. There were common items on the list, but others were much more impossible like the Basilisk's venom or the Phoenix's ashes. What exactly did those do?
A touch on his shoulder breaks his thoughts. Riddle nods politely.
Are they going to the meeting now? Draco returns the nod and gathers his belongings.
Riddle leads Draco down a long corridor and outside. The breeze hits his face. Riddle hums lightly, as he pulls out his wand to open another door. They traverse back into the castle, and straight to the moving staircases. Painting of the past watches them carefully and continues on with their own conversations. Once the stairs stop, Riddle walks forward once more. Passing more corridors and down more hallways, they stand in front of an intricate door with complex designs of various flowers etched around it. There on the right side, a golden handle.
Draco reaches out his hand, but Riddle clears his throat.
Again, something pricks Draco's mind. Somewhat like a scratch trying to claw at his thoughts. He calms down and the irritates subsides.
Riddle exhales, "Your Occlumency is very impressive. Honestly, it stunned me the first time."
What? How did he--
He continues, "Tell me, is Legilimency such a common use in the war? Do Grindelwald's men use it? Is that why Evans stubbornly refuses to even spare me a single glance?"
"I..." Draco's mouth dries slightly. "...He's too emotional. Wearing whatever he feels on his sleeve, there is no chance he'll be able to learn Occlumency. He is the type to avoid what doesn't come easily."
But if that's true, why doesn't Riddle just use Legilimency on Potter and be done with it?
"I see. You two know a lot about each other don't you? Despite 'not being close'," Riddle hums.
His voice has a hint of...
Jealousy?
No, it couldn't be.
"I've seen your file, McClure. Your father, a poor Pureblood, is a salesman, and details of your mother unknown," Riddle crosses his arm and taps lightly on his hands.
Draco has never heard about his so-called backstory. Potter always had other things to do. But it sounded reasonable enough.
"That's right."
"Anything else you care to share?" Riddle presses.
"No..." Draco says unsure. What did Riddle want?
Riddle frowns, "Perhaps, since you are new you didn't know. But I am fond of my intelligence, so don't dare insult it. Any fool can see you are not McClure. No, you are a Malfoy."
Draco gasps lightly.
"Why gasp? Take pride in your family's name. It is a powerful one, not to be given to those unworthy. You are Draco Malfoy," Riddle hisses.
Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
For the last week, Draco has been pretending to be this "McClure" under the influence of Potter...
But his name.
His true and only name couldn't be taken away from him.
Rather it be in the past, present, or future, he is Draco Malfoy, and anything less would be an insult to his blood.
His Pureblood.
Draco chuckles, "Congratulations Riddle." His eyes glisten with pride. "You're right. I am Draco Malfoy."
A smirk across Riddle's face, "Open the door. Then join your true calling, as one of the Knights of Walpurgis."
Draco opens the door, and there he finds a room with a large table. Each seat is filled with familiar faces. Malfoy, Lestrange, Avery, Black, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott, there are also some Ravenclaws, and a handful of Hufflepuffs.
Riddle walks in front of the table, "Welcome back. Tonight will be a special gathering, because tonight I present to you, your newest member: Draco Malfoy."
Every pair of eyes fall on Draco, and he scoffs.
Why should he deny the truth? It isn't his fault Riddle is brilliant. It isn't his fault his blood screams and chants his family's name. Draco grins and heads towards an empty seat.
"WHAT?!" Malfoy exclaims.
The Ravenclaws gasp and whisper to each other in hushed tones.
Black leans back in his chair, unfazed, "It was pretty obvious." Lestrange, Avery, Rosier, Mulciber, and Nott ponder and eventually nod in agreement.
Malfoy seethes, "He cannot claim that name, MY name! Now, what rights does he have? How has he proven his loyalty to our cause? For him to waltz in and proclaim is he one of us is a bloody insult!"
Murmur travels down the table, some agreeing, others questioning.
Riddle's single glance halts all the noise. He steps forward to Malfoy, "Malfoy. Do you dare bring into question my intelligence?"
Fear seeps through Malfoy's veins, "Of course not."
"Oh, then do you dare bring into question my judgement?" Riddle asks.
"N-no!" He squeaks out.
Riddle's eyes narrow, "I brought him here because of his skill and talent. He was able to excel at the top of all of his classes in a mere week. He has experienced first-hand Grindelwald's war. Insight which would be most profitable for our organization. He knows Occlumency, and would be a valuable teacher to you all. But most of all... I was thinking about you, Malfoy."
"M-me?" Malfoy coughs out.
Riddle stands behind Malfoy's chair. He taps the edges with his wand. "Of course. Thinking about reuniting you with your brother. But you wish to reject my offer..."
"No!" Malfoy screams out. "I would never!"
"He is of Malfoy blood-- Of my blood," Draco interrupts.
Everyone turns their gaze at him. "See, it was I who failed to speak my family's name. I, who, couldn't handle its great magnitude. But now it's no longer an issue, my Lord."
Draco bows his head.
Amused with Draco's reaction, Riddle moves his wand, and hums lightly. Malfoy finally exhales.
"Well, Malfoy. Seems your blood cares," Riddle leans down, "Won't you express gratitude?"
"I am indebted to you... Malfoy," He says with bitterness.
Riddle fixes his hair and smiles like nothing happened, "Now, let us return to our planned schedule. Lestrange, what are the new developments?"
Lestrange swoons over Riddle with pure glee, "Yes, my Lord." He copies Draco's words, hoping for the same reaction.
Did they not call Riddle by title yet?
"Almost all of the sixth years are interested in your preachings. They even convinced some of the newer years to hear your speech. But the professors still preach that we are the same. Those Mudbloods try to halt our progress for a Pureblood society!"
Members of the Knights of Walpurgis groan and jeer when hearing of the mudbloods.
Riddle raises his hand, and hisses. He hisses grows louder and stronger.
Parseltongue.
The snake language Potter did back in their Second Year, it must be the exact same.
Nagini slithers beneath the table and travels up to Riddle's open hand. She hisses back and Riddle chuckles lightly.
"Knights, do not fret about Mudbloods. Don't spare them a single thought. Because they cannot comprehend our refined culture, they opt to taint our existence. They think we are equals with filthy muggles, and they want to be rid of true wizards and witches. An insult to magic itself..."
The other members make noise of disapproval.
Riddle nods, "But we are Purebloods. We have been given a Divine right to rule over them. Our pure magic, our pure power, should be revered. Not stained by Muggle's filth. We will not hide, no. I, as heir of Salazar Slytherin, will create a new Era of Magic! If you stand by my side, I will bring you to victory! Remember our call to arms to rule over the Wizarding World!"
The Hufflepuffs are the first to stand and cheer. Then the Ravenclaws shout in approval. Rosier, Mulciber, Nott and Avery activate silencing charms, but chant Riddle's spells. Lestrange, Malfoy, and Black rush to Riddle's side bow down to his excellence.
Draco stands in awe.
He's amazing.
He's right.
Mudbloods have no place to speak in their world. The world of the Purebloods. All they do is poison a perfect heritage. Tom Riddle has a purpose, he has power. If Potter is able to stop him from becoming the Dark Lord, he'll be doing a disservice to the entire Wizarding World! Perhaps, Draco should use his true existence to, use his beneficial knowledge for the future, and it will ensure the protection of his family. He will restore their name. If he follows Riddle, then everything will be great!
The rest of the meeting is truly inspiring.
Harry covers the box with his robe, then stretches his arms into the air, and rotates his shoulders. He rubs his eyes. The contacts, still inside, irritated his eyes to no end.
"Tempus!" He waves his wand.
It's time.
Wrapped inside the cover of Invisibility, Harry could see Draco, Riddle, and several others on the complete other side of the map.
This is his chance.
He swiftly runs down the corridors and up the stairs into the Girl's Bathroom. Luckily, it's late enough, no one is there. Harry uncloaks himself. Finding the serpents symbols didn't cause any problems. He's done this before, and he'll do it again.
"Open," Harry whispers in Parseltongue.
The mechanism shifts, causing the sink to sink into nothingness. There the large cylinder pipe stands exposed to Harry. Lifting up the box, Harry sits and slides down. He lands catching the covered box.
Harry's eyes dart around expecting to see the shed of the Basilisk, but the Corridor of Secrets is barren. Looks like he is the first person to first the Chamber of Secrets. He passes the pillars and walks into the heart of the chamber. Pillars stretch high to the ceiling and craving of serpents are etching through the stone. He places the box on the ground. A flick of the wrist and Harry's hand snaps into his hand. His true wand. He casts Incendio to light up the torches around the room.
Tremors shake the room.
A lousy hiss echoes down the pipe ways. Lighting fast is an enormous serpent coils around Harry, wrapping its venomous green body around him. Harry squeezes his eyes shut.
"Wait!" He hisses in Parseltongue.
"A sssspeaker? How amussssing..." The Basilisk replies.
"Please, let me go."
"Why? What right do you have to control me? You are not the Heir of Sssslytherin. You are not my masssster! I have been sssstraving for sssso long, and now I finally have a sssscrumptiousss meal!" The Basilisk leans back and strikes.
Harry shoots out an ice blast to its scales. Basilisk recoils. In the scuffle, Harry runs behind one of the pillars. This time he's at a disadvantage, Dumbledore's Phoenix isn't here, he doesn't have the sword of Gryffindor, and the Basilisk's eyes are intact. Somehow, he still needs to get the venom for the potion as well.
Scales slithers across the floor. "I can ssssmell you!" It strikes again.
The pillar falls and Harry rolls behind another one. Water breaks from the pipelines and flows across the floor.
Harry breathes in, "It's now or never..." He casts a float on himself and closes his eyes. He hovers above the Basilisk and jumps.
As soon as he lands, Harry screams out as many freezing spells as he can to lower the snake's body temperature. The serpent hiss and growls thrashing around throwing Harry off its back. Harry's head hits the wall, he struggles to keep his eyes downwards.
"That'ssss enough!" The serpent pants and hisses. Still powerful even after sustaining the attacks.
"Accio, robe!!!" Harry screams. His robe flies towards him and he throws it over the Basilisk's head. The box topples over and a rooster stumbles out, quite irritated.
It crows.
"NOOOOO!!!" the Basilisk hisses, thrashing everywhere.
Harry dives to the side, sliding on the water towards the back wall. He waves his wand in a zigzag, and all the broken pillars take aim at the Basilisk. He flicks his wand, then all at once, the broken pillars become like shards, piercing through the scales into its body. The Basilisk resembles a porcupine, but the quills immediately, leaks out red fluids mixing into the water.
Harry falls to his hands and knees.
The Boy Who Lived sits on the ground for a couple of seconds processing what just happened. Hermione's research on the Basilisk right about the rooster's crow. No doubt she is the greatest witch that ever lived. Because of her, he did it.
Now, there's no way Riddle can open the Chamber of Secrets, release the beast, or kill anyone.
Yep, he did it.
Harry wobbly stands. There is still more he needs to do. He casts a spell to repair the broken pipelines and walks to the Basilisk's body, for its venom.
Harry glances at the red water's reflection--
The Basilisk's glare.
"Confringo!!" He yells, shooting the Basilisk's eyes.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
Harry hits the ground and squirms.
He falls silent.
"..."
The rooster pecks at the ground then walks, he opts to sit on Harry's head.
Harry jolts up. The poultry squawks and runs away. His hands pat himself all over.
Why?
Why isn't he petrified?
He saw the Basilisk's eyes, no doubt. Is it because it's already dead? Could he owe it to dumb luck?
Harry rubs his eyes. All his questions are still unanswered. So he grabs his bag and pulls out vials, he carefully milks the Basilisk's venom, and stores it away safely. He pats the rooster on the head and picks it up. Together they leave the Chamber of Secrets.
The Knights of Walpurgis meeting comes to an end, and all of its members go their separate ways. The Slytherin House members walk together returning to their dormitory. The Dark Lord walks beside him, unlike the future one who orders him to kill the Headmaster, would he ask him to do the... No, best not to question it. But perhaps he could ask this one how to complete his other mission. Once in front of the door, Draco gets Riddle's attention.
"Go on ahead. I need to speak with our newest member," Riddle orders, handing Nagini to Lestrange.
Lestrange, Avery, Black, Rosier, Mulciber, and Nott nod, with a bow they head inside the doors. Malfoy takes one final glare at Draco before joining them.
The door closes and Riddle smiles, "I do hope you found our little organization fruitful."
"Very much so," Draco agrees. Maybe this Dark Lord could give him a different insight. "Though, I do have a question."
"Oh?"
"Is there a way to repair an old artifact embedded with magic?" Draco asks. He needs to know how to quickly repair the Vanishing Cabinet.
"Strange inquiry, indeed..." Riddle hums. "Well, assuming 'Reparo' is ineffective. Perhaps a different spell will be useful. I recommend 'Harmonia Nectere Passus.'"
"Harmonica Necctere Passus?" He repeats.
"Indeed. It does require more than one application, but if you were to recycle your incantations. Then the artifact will be repaired sooner," he smiles.
Harmonica Necctere Passus... If Draco could find a way to repeat the spell, it'll cast it even when he isn't there. Then the Vanishing Cabinet will be fixed in no time.
"I appreciate your assistance," Draco bows.
"Not a problem at all." Riddle taps the bottom of his chin, "However... I suppose I require some assistance of my own. While the Knights have great ambitions, we lack numbers. Perhaps you can persuade one more student to join our ranks?" He politely asks, but it sounded more like an order.
"If you are implying for me to recruit Po... Evans. It won't work."
Riddle frowns, his eyes darkening as if Draco has adamantly disobeyed a direct order.
"He's a Halfblood. Buys into the 'equality for Muggleborn' delusion. Nothing, I or anyone else, can convince a stubborn git like him," Draco rolls his eyes.
Why did he want Potter anyway? Nothing about him screams "worthy". Well, at least not in this timeline.
Riddle's frown disappears and a pleasant smile appears on his face, "Well, sounds more like a challenge to me, Malfoy."
"Malfoy?"
Draco's jaw drops slightly. Potter with a bruise on the side of his head, wearing wet bloodstained clothes, and holding a... Chicken?
"Evans!" Riddle rushes to Potter. He hesitantly caressing his bruise. "Dear Merlin... What happened?"
Potter ignores Riddle, still staring at Draco.
"Malfoy." He repeats again, but this time it's not a question. The chicken drops and runs away.
Draco shrugs, "Why should I ever hide my proud heritage?"
Pure rage flashes across Potter's face. His hands curl and turn bright white. "Draco! I--"
Riddle stands in front of him. "Now, Evans. Let's not resort to Muggle violence. I can sort out the conflicts you need to work through."
"This has nothing to do with you," Potter snaps back.
This time his eyes stare right into Riddle's, until Potter realizes his mistake. Riddle holds him from running.
"Why..." Riddle hisses. He turns to see Draco and regains some of his composer, but he doesn't let go of Potter. "Evans you will--"
Potter relaxes in Riddle's grip, "Riddle... I promise to answer all your questions. Tomorrow! But right now I need-- wish to speak with McClure."
Riddle pauses, contemplating about how to deal with Potter. It looks like he doesn't want to let him go, but also doesn't want Potter to retract his promise. After a moment more, he releases his grip.
Potter immediately grabs Draco's arm, but Draco yanks it back. He stares at Riddle, waiting for permission.
Riddle scoffs, waving him off, "You're dismissed."
A growl slips past Potter's lips and he drags Draco into the Slytherin's bathroom. He casts Colloportus to lock the doors and turns on the running water.
"What the bloody hell, Draco?!"
"Please. I am surprised the 'McClure' facade worked for so long. Look at me! There is no doubt I am a Malfoy!"
"That's not the point!! Don't you see? Riddle's using you! Buttering you up for your family's name! Don't fall for his manipulation tactics!!"
"Oh ho ho! Listen closely. There are no manipulations, he speaks only the truth. Muggles are worse than rotten flesh, they are beneath us! All they do is spread their filth and now they intend to infiltrate our blood too?! Mudbloods are the true enemy!!"
"No, they're not! You bigoted git!!!" Potter swings, but this time he's too slow.
Draco smugly moves aside, "Well, at least I'm open minded to deal with poofs like you."
"WHAT?!"
Looking down at Potter, Draco crosses his arms, "Did you honestly expect me not to notice? You spend most of the time gawking at Black, and you couldn't even take your eyes off of Riddle. You're smitten with him."
"A-a-are you out of your mind?! Black reminds me of Sirius, okay? As for Riddle... H-he's trying to use Legilimency on me! So he's just... No! Why are you even listening to him? Why are you defending him? Draco, we don't belong here!"
Potter pauses, judging him up and down. He laughs bitterly.
"Ohhh, I get it. You had a change of heart. After you heard what perks he could give you, you want to stay. You want to throw your parents out to the wind, so you get whatever you want. How selfish are you?! I bet you don't even care about them!!"
Draco grabs Potter by the collar and slams him against the wall, "Don't you dare talk about my parents." He says lowly. "You're the reason my father's in Azkaban."
"That was his decision, and you know it."
Draco squeezes Potter's neck, and his eyes widen. Draco has never been this angry before. "You know nothing."
Potter moves his arm down and his wand falls into his hands. He shoots Draco back and gasps for air.
Potter coughs, "I-I don't have to take this from you." He tosses a scroll at Draco.
"What's this?" Draco asks. He unrolls the paper to see a vial and Dumbledore's potion ingredients.
"The venom."
Draco's eyes widen. Potter went to the Chamber of Secrets and got the Basilisk's venom?
"I'll get the ashes tomorrow," Potter sighs dryly. "You get the rest." Then he takes off his robes, trying to get the stains out.
Draco puts the vial in his pocket. He takes one final look at Potter.
Bloody prat.
The next morning Draco drags his feet out of the comfort of his bed. He had better nights. Unfortunately, yesterday's memories replays in his head. On the one hand, Riddle made so much sense. His views of Purebloods society and his plans for the future are ones Draco could devote himself too.
But it does beg the question how exactly did Tom Riddle become Voldemort? If he had chosen this path, he would have been a well-loved politician. So why shift into becoming a Dark Lord? Perhaps the power void in this time period had much more urgency.
On the other hand, the urgency to get the ingredients for the potions to return home was present enough. To return home and complete his mission... Thank Merlin it's the weekend, Draco sighs. At least he'll have more time to himself before Potter comes to bug him.
Potter.
Stupid Potter.
He did it.
He did it again.
He opened the Chamber of Secrets and gotten the venom.
Knowing him, he probably defeated the Basilisk as well. He didn't say anything, probably to keep all the glory, but this time he can only keep all the glory to himself. Did Potter miss people worshiping the ground he walked on? He wanted so badly to stop the Dark Lord, but only now, when Draco has made progress, he suddenly focused on being them home.
Yep. Stupid Potter.
Draco walks down the long corridors to the Great Hall. If he hurried he could make it for breakfast. A figure blocks his way.
"Malfoy," he greets.
"It's going to be confusing if we both call each other by our Pureblood name. You may call me Abraxas," his grandfather says.
"W-what?" Draco stutters, "No, though I appreciate the gesture, that would be too informal."
"I insist," Abraxas huffs.
"Then I shall extend the same offer," he smiles back.
"Joy," Abraxas says almost dryly. "I have noticed you have been lacking in supplies. Since there are no classes today, I have been given special permission from Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet for off campus purchases at Diagon Alley."
"...Are you offering to buy me supplies?"
"No," Abraxas rolls his eyes, "You are a Malfoy, are you not?" Draco nods, but stares blankly. His grandfather sighs, "So instead of using it for myself, I am offering it to you."
"I can go to Diagon Alley? By myself?" Gleefulness drips into Draco's speech.
"Yes, but it's only for today. You'll be using my name. That is until you formally announce your heritage," he scoffs.
With this he can get ingredients on the list faster and other items he has been missing. "I appreciate it, Abraxas," Draco bows.
"Oh... Think nothing of it."
Outside the balcony, the hills stretch until it reaches the horizon line. Beautiful scenery. Harry stares more, some of the familiar trees are saplings now. It's strange how things could be the same yet so different. Harry bites his bottom lip. Ever since he was brought to this time, the nightmares about Voldemort haven't lessened. So Harry would rather not sleep at all.
Still his mind would drift into unconsciousness, and a new dream would plague his mind. Being held by Tom Riddle and when he touched his scar it felt... Nice and safe. Is there another connection between them, or has the change in timeline unraveled his thoughts? Because there's no way he could find his parents' future murder anything less than despicable! Think of something else, anything else!
Harry laughs bitterly. "Ohhh, I get it. You had a change of heart. After you heard what perks he could give you, you want to stay. You want to throw your parents out to the wind, so you get whatever you want. How selfish are you?! I bet you don't even care about them!!"
Draco grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall, "Don't you dare talk about my parents. You're the reason my father's in Azkaban."
"That was his decision, and you know it."
Draco squeezes his neck, never this mad before. "You know nothing."
Maybe...
Maybe, he shouldn't have said those things. But it isn't Harry's fault. Draco is the one who was spouting nonsense about Muggleborns and Half Bloods. He said awful words about wonderful people like his mother, or Hermione! He is right to be angry with him. His mindset is completely distorted! He could have told Riddle everything and ruined the future for everyone! If they were back home, he, Ron, and Hermione would give him a piece of made and a world of hurt.
But they weren't home.
They are stuck in 1942...
Harry was prepared for this venture, he knew what he had to do. He came willingly, and accepted the risks, even if it were for a day.
Draco didn't.
He was forced and pulled along.
So he clung to the familiarity of the Slytherins, then the familiarity of his name, then the familiarity of his warped views...
For the last week, Harry has been hyper-obsessed with taking down Voldemort, he didn't think of Draco's predicament. Perhaps, if he solely focused on making Dumbledore's potion. They would have been home by now.
Here, Harry and Draco only had each other.
Harry sighs again, "Guess I should apologize..." He heads to the Great Hall.
Breakfast at the Great Hall is a feast for the eyes. How the windows let in the natural light, how the candles still floated in the air. Harry walks to the Slytherin table expecting to see Draco.
"Woah! It's Evans!" Mulciber points at him.
"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Rosier mocks and Avery snickers.
"Wait, you actually eat?!" Nott gasps.
"Lay off. Evans, you can sit next to me," Black scoots over and tapping the gap next to him.
Harry's eyes soften, "I appreciate the offer, but that's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you here?" Lestrange asks with disdain.
Ignoring the obvious hostility, Black smiles, "Are you here to return my towel?"
Realization hits Harry, he hasn't even washed it yet, "Oh, sorry! I don't have it with me..."
"Don't worry about it. You can keep it as long as you like," Black winks.
A blush creeps on Harry's cheeks, "I--"
Utensils slam on the table and everyone turns Riddle's direction. "Evans, what can I do for you?" He says sweetly, almost too sweetly.
"Nothing," Harry says after noticing Riddle. "I'm looking for McClure. Have you seen him?"
"Both Malfoys, aren't here. But I'd gladly help you look for him," Riddle dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Then raises from his seat.
"I'll go too!" Lestrange jumps up.
"That won't be necessary. Come along, Evans," Riddle places his hand on Harry's lower back.
Harry huffs, "Hey--"
Lestrange watches in envy as they both leave, "Why is it always Evans?"
Honestly, Harry would like to know why too. Riddle leads him out of the Great Hall and down the corridors.
"I can walk fine," Harry pulls away before they could turn the corner.
He grins in response, "I suppose you can." Riddle doesn't let go. "Evans--"
"Riddle," Malfoy cuts in.
"Oh, Malfoy," Riddle says a bit annoyed. "Have you seen your brother?"
"Ah, yes. Draco is taking a trip to Diagon Alley to obtain more school supplies. He left moments ago and will return this afternoon," he answers effortlessly.
Did Malfoy just call him Draco?
Riddle hums, "I am glad to hear you two settled your differences. I hope your future developments will provide fruitful results for us all."
"Of course. Now, excuse me," Malfoy leaves with the classic smug face. Must be a facial birth deficit.
"Evans," Riddle breaks his train of thought. His nose tickles Harry's bangs until he moves down, so their eyes can meet. Harry looks to the left taking a step back, Riddle follows.
"None of that. I believe you said you'll answer all my questions," He gently ghosts over Harry's bruise.
Harry's eyes widen, "I did, didn't I..."
"What happened yesterday? Did someone hurt you?" Riddle's eyes darken.
"No! It's... After researching, a rather dangerous magical creature, I decided to apply it in action, and it went well, but... Unfortunately, I was unable to leave unscathed."
Riddle clicks his tongue, "Another lackluster answer. Perhaps, the lesser half of your blood taints your speech."
"No blood is lesser than any other!" Harry snaps back.
Riddle isn't offended with his outburst. He looks rather amused.
"Shame, Malfoy was correct. You spout complete nonsense. How utterly naive. Although..." He leans even closer, and heals the bruise. The pain washes from Harry's head, like a headache clearing.
Harry hums in relief, while Riddle smiles at the noises Harry makes. "I'm relieved, no one touched you. That stays between us."
"W-what?" Harry steps back again, but his time his back hits the wall.
"You remember, don't you? When we touched... An urge pulsed through us. Something I have never felt before... A connection," He whispers in Harry's ear.
Harry's whole body quivers.
When Riddle brushed over his scar? It's because hee and Voldemort are only connected because his magic failed to kill him as a newborn, but there's no way he'll ever tell Riddle that! No, Riddle can't know! He can't be trusted. If he gets this information, he'll have power to take over the Wizarding ward! Unlike Draco, Harry wouldn't fall for his manipulation. Even with his striking proportions, rich voice, deep eyes...
Nice scent...
Riddle chuckles, "I appreciate the compliment."
Did he say that out loud?
The smug look on Riddle's face answers his question. Why is the future Dark Lord pinning him to the wall in the middle of the hallway anyway?!
Their eyes meet.
Harry shoves Riddle off with all of his strength. "I-I have to go!" He bolts down the corridor without looking back.
Draco crosses his arms, "Did you honestly expect me not to notice? You couldn't even take your eyes off of Riddle."
No, no, no!
Harry couldn't be attracted to Riddle. He's straight! Well, mostly straight... Kind of. There must be some sort of explanation for his flushed cheeks and beating heart. But what? Love potion? Poison? Time constipation? Something! Harry has been way too careless about making eye contact with Riddle.
What did Riddle have to gain with his game of cat and mouse? If he already used Legilimency on him, why not question him about the future? And if he didn't...
Why hasn't he?
Harry doesn't need to know the answer. He runs to Dumbledore's office. He needs the Phoenix ashes. Afterwards, he'll grab Draco and they will get out of this bloody time.
They need to leave.
Now!
After Flooing to Diagon Alley, Draco made his way through the shops with ease. Everything was more or less the same in fifty years. Draco supposed there is no need to improve the design. He gathers a fair amount of supplies. More garments, toiletries, trinkets, everything he needs to have a more comfortable stay at Hogwarts. He also picked up several ingredients for Dumbledore's potions. All that's left is the Phoenix's ashes. Thus, by tomorrow they'll be home. Back in their original timeline...
Instead of heading to the Floor Network to return to Hogwarts, Draco takes a turn down Knockturn Alley, and into shop 13B.
Borgin and Burkes.
The chimes sound as soon as he opens the door. Draco walks inside the dimly lit shop. Artifacts that he had seen forever, barely had any dust on it today. As he walks past the endless rare and cursed items the door's chimes sound again. Guess more customers are entering. In the back, he sees a wardrobe.
Not wardrobe, no. It's a cabinet.
The Vanishing Cabinet.
Draco circles the furniture, gazing at its details.
"Anything I can help you with?" A voice announces his presence.
"No, I wasn't interested in buying. I was just..." Draco trails off and remembers Riddle's advice. "Do you have an item that repeats an incantation in succession?"
"Hmm," the shop keeper strokes his chin. "Perhaps this Echo's Bell. It will repeat a word for phrase endlessly. You only have to speak in it."
That would do the trick. Draco grins, "Hmm. Interesting. I'll take it."
A brief transaction, and the shop owner grins widely. The Echo's Bell might have been ten times less than Draco paid, but it's a necessity nonetheless.
"I'll take my leave now."
"Not quite, Malfoy," Another voice speaks.
"Stupefy!"
Draco falls back, but instead of the ground another pair of arms grabs his neck. The two assistants force him to drink a strange potion. Slowly, his vision blurs and gets darker and darker.
"Tell the Dark Lord we got him."
Chapter Text
When Draco wakes up to a ringing linger in his ear. His surroundings are dimly lit, but the atmosphere reminds him of grimness, like the day he heard his father was sent to Azkaban. An eeriee feeling of eyes watching his every movement. Draco shifts in a pale green chair, his arms bound to the armrests. The detailing is wood dark oak, and then hems lined with sterling silver. Where is he?
"What's going on?" He attempts to ask, but his throat could produce no sound. Instead a gasping noise slips past his lips.
"Sir. Our guest has awakened," a woman laughs.
"Well, well," A more commanding voice answers. The leader steps into the light. Draco has only seen him in old news clippings and history books, but there he stands in the flesh.
Gellert Grindelwald.
"Welcome young Malfoy," Grindelwald says sickeningly sweet.
Draco growls and coughs again.
"I apologize for the bruteness of my underlinings. They don't know how important a Malfoy is. Save your breath. While you wear this around your neck," he pulls on the collar. Then it snaps back, hitting Draco's throat. "There's no need to respond, so listen closely," Grindelwald lifts his chin up.
"Young man, you have such a promising future. To be born as a Malfoy is a privilege, no, a Divine Blessing. I have sent a letter to Hogwarts as we speak. But will they make it in time?" He chuckles, and the rest of the group laughs as well.
Grindelwald runs his fingers in Draco's blonde hair. "So I have a proposal for you. Your blood. Your name. Will be a wondrous asset. Best to be on the winning side boy." He then pulls Draco's hair from the roots, "All you have to do is live life as a student. And give us reports every now and then what do you say?"
The current Dark Lord slips his wand in-between the collar and Draco's neck. He wordlessly casts a spell and the collar bursts into flames. Burns appear on Draco's throat. He heaves in the smoke and gags. Their audience is quite amused.
"W-why?" Draco coughs out.
Grindelwald sighs, "You know you are going to join us, but still dare to ask why? Tell me, Malfoy... Why should our grand existence be locked away behind the Statute of Secrecy? Muggles burned out ancestors at the stake, deeming them as horrid monsters, because we have a greater gift than they could never comprehend. We are more powerful than they could ever dream of being. They should be the ones bowing down to us as we establish dominance over the Muggle World!"
His followers scream and cheer. Some even dance around the room.
Fasten in his seat, Draco accidentally chuckles. His brief snort causes the room to fall into silence.
"So you plan to reveal our Pureblood ideals to filthy Muggles? Those ones that will muddy our precious blood? They don't deserve to see our world," Draco scoffs. "They are--"
Draco screams in agony.
His flesh burns from the inside. He thrashes in his chair and falls to the ground. Every pulse in his veins turns against him, his blood doesn't flow through his body, it feels like it's flowing back into his heart. No...
Only pain is flowing.
He hacks and coughs, clawing his way out of the bindings, but nothing works. His body shakes violently. Is there a way to get out of his skin?!
Draco rolls to his side and shrieks.
There are over twenty people in the room, the laugh gleefully, like he is a performance they paid greatly to watch. Some even mock his screams and mimic his movements. Amongst the crowd Draco only feels desolated.
Humiliation.
No one helps him.
The pain suddenly stops.
What little air Draco can grasp fills into his lungs. His consciousness is returning.
Grindelwald steps on the side of Draco's cheek and leans downwards. "My apologies my hand spilled. You do know how spells get, don't you?"
Draco whimpers, but nods. Grindelwald smiles and gives two slaps to his cheek, "Good boy."
He waves his wand.
All Draco's pain disappears and the chair snaps upright. But the force knocks out an item from Draco's front pocket, which rolls across the floor.
"And what's this?" Grindelwald extends his hand, "Accio!" The small vial with paper around it floats from the ground into his hand. The current Dark Lord scoffs and unrolls the slip.
"That is..."
Grindelwald opens the vial and inhales the fumes. He stops and growls.
"Out! All of you!" He orders.
His followers look at each other confused. One speaks up, "But, my Lord--"
"NOW!!" He shouts.
The Dark Lord's follows disappear in a mass exodus. Without the swarm of people the room seems a lot bigger. Draco could see the paintings on the wall, a wizard uses magic and the others down below bow to his power.
Only two remain in the room.
Grindelwald and Draco.
"Sign of good faith," Grindelwald snaps his fingers and Draco is free from his binding. He immediately rubs his wrist.
"Tell me," Grindelwald lifts up his hand. "How did you get this?" He says darkly.
"I..." What could Draco say? There was no way he could truthfully tell the Dark Lord where he got the Basilisk's venom. Wait. But he believes Draco is a Malfoy of this time, so connections are all he needs.
He straightens his posture, in a way only a Malfoy can produce. "I have my ways in obtaining rare ingredients. If you are looking for a respectable vendor I could interest you in--"
"I couldn't care less about the venom," he snaps.
Draco flinches.
Grindelwald is unpredictable, after power he displayed, he rather stay on his good side. But why didn't he care about the venom? The Basilisk's venom. One of the most dangerous creatures of all the wizarding world? Draco's mouth falls shut and he could only stare. His eyes fill with newfound fear.
"Tell me how you got the Final Gambit's-- Ohh..." Grindelwald rages evaporates.
Draco didn't know what to fear more, Grindelwald's anger or lack there of.
He circles Draco, "I understand now... My vision might have deceived me. I suppose it was all too convenient that a student's leave of absence was so publicized. For you to go all on your own was too easy. You wanted my followers to find you. Isn't that right?"
"W-what?" is all Draco could manage.
"You wanted to be captured by my underlings. You wanted to be taken here. You're working for Albus, aren't you?" Grindelwald accuse.
"I don't understand--"
"Don't play dumb, boy. It's beneath you. This potion. The Final Gambit. It was Albus and my last creation... He begged. Oh, how he pleaded, that he didn't want to fight anymore. So we made this..." He lifts up the page with the recipe. "A final drink to end it all. To have our final breath together."
To end it all? It would have been a double suicide of the most powerful wizards. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were lovers? No, wait... That means the Final Gambit won't be able to take himself and Potter back.
It's useless.
"I am not working for that delusional old coot. I was supposed to ki--" Draco stops his response. He could tell Grindelwald his Dark Lord wanted him dead.
Grindelwald scoffs, "Perhaps... If I allow you to join my ranks I find Albus waiting on the other side. How foolish do you think I am?"
"I'll won't follow you, nor Dumbledore. My Dark Lord will certainly create a future where Purebloods are of the highest decree."
"Another Dark Lord?" Grindelwald chuckles. "There will be none greater as I. Your little act is admirable. Even I should find myself convinced. A Malfoy would align themselves with absurdist Pureblood ideals. But, if you truly aren't under Albus' allegiance. Then this shouldn't bother you in the slightest."
He cast a spell. In the center of the floor, a figure appears. With one single flick the body moves close to them. A young girl with brown hair, about six or seven, squeaks in pain, rubbing her head. Her eyes dart around the room, and her body trembles in fear.
"W-what? W-where?" She babbles.
Grindelwald smiles amusingly. Then the little girl gets yanked into the air by her hair. She screams.
"That hurts! It hurts!! IT HURTS!!!" She clenches to her roots.
"W-what are you doing?" Draco can only watch as the girl flies upwards.
The current Dark Lord shrugs nonchalantly, "Don't fret. It's just a muggle."
He waves his wand and she swings around like a ragdoll, the force pulls on the poor girl's hair.
"Stop! Please!! Mommy?! Mommy!!!!" She cries. Tears run down her face.
The little girls scream and Grindelwald's laugh fills the room. But Draco couldn't hear anything at all.
She's nothing.
Absolutely nothing, but a poor filthy muggle.
So why?
Why did her screams shake him to his core?
"Now, as an apology for the pain you experienced. This one will feel the same," the madman turns to him. "Only tenfold."
Draco's eyes widen.
Ten times the amount of pain he felt?
When his whole body turned against him?
How he was surrounded by Grindelwald laughing and mocking him?
She's just a little girl. A stupid Muggle who can't defend herself. All she wants is her mother...
Draco couldn't watch anymore.
"Wait..." He whispers.
Gravity takes hold of the girl, but before she could hit the ground, Draco yanks out his wand. The girl floats gently to the ground. She sniffles and buries her head into her knees.
"T-thank you..." She sniffles.
"I--"
"And there's my answer... Honestly, a shame."
The current Dark lord snaps his fingers. Suddenly, all of his followers return.
A stunning spell hits Draco's body, and as he collapses to the ground, his wand slides across the floor. He's surrounded. There is no way he can escape. The others raise their wands and prepare to attack.
"That's enough," Grindelwald raises his hand.
"We need the boy to see reason," He walks over and leans down to Draco. "If you want so much to save a muggle. Then you'll be treated as one. Take him to the dungeons."
Two people grab Draco by his collar and pull him across the floor.
The last words he hears, "I hope Albus comes soon."
Then Draco's eyes fall into darkness.
Harry can't believe he wasted the whole day. On his way to Dumbledore, Professor Slughorn tells him he had seen him with Professor Merrythought. So Harry takes a detour to the other side of Hogwarts to act as an errand boy to give her some tea Professor Slughorn had made. There she informs Harry, Dumbledore is out for the entire day. So he heads back to Dumbledore's office. At least it stops him from thinking about Rid-- no, no.
He needs to break into his office. He wishes he brought his Invisibility Cloak right now. He thought Dumbledore's office would be protected with charms and hexes, but a simple, "Alohomora." The locks open.
Dumbledore's old office is quite quaint. Books opened, but a strange method to his madness. There, golden bars catch his eyes. A fragile old bird sits in its open cage. It squawks at Harry lightly and bursts into flames. Leaving soot and ash. From the ashes a chick chirps at him curiously.
"Shh, Fawkes," Harry places his finger on his lips. "I'm a friend." Harry pets Fawkes and it snuggles to his hand. Harry smiles and grabs the ashes.
The fireplace flashes green, Dumbledore steps out of the Floo's dust. Harry hides underneath Dumbledore's desk.
Harry holds his breath, dusting the ashes into a small pouch. After all that work to be caught red-handed by future Headmasters. How will he explain this one?
The door echoes with three knocks. With a flick of his wand Dumbledore opens the door. Headmaster Dippet smiles and walks in.
"I thought you'd be back by now."
"Well, it'll be rude to be late to a scheduled meeting," Dumbledore sighs.
Dippet chuckles, "Well, I suppose so. Now, after all these years as a Professor, your efforts have not gone unnoticed. The council has considered you a fine candidate for Hogwart's next Headmaster."
"I'm honored, truly I am but--"
The Floo flashes green once more and a letter floats to Dumbledore. He catches it and reads it carefully.
"...This can't be," he whispers.
"Albus, what seems to be the matter?" Dippet asks.
"Grindelwald..." Dumbledore says his name with such pain. "He said he has taken the war to the students. He has young Malfoy. Quickly, we must gather the Aurors. No student shall be harmed!"
Malfoy? Harry covers his mouth, not letting his gasp slip.
"Albus! Calm yourself!" Dippet orders. "It's impossible. As I was entering, I saw young Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins enjoying their meals together."
Dumbledore rereads the letter at hand, "Wasn't he supposed to go to Diagon Alley today?"
Harry remembers... Malfoy...
"Ah, yes. Draco is taking a trip to Diagon Alley to obtain more school supplies. He left moments ago and will return this afternoon," Malfoy answers effortlessly.
"No. Though he did ask permission to leave campus, he must have decided against it," Dippet pauses. "Although, that must mean someone in our ranks is leaking information about the students. Be vigilant."
"I see. Just another ploy to lower our defenses. I'll disregard the enticement of battle," Dumbledore hands Dippet the letter.
"Very good. I suppose I'll take my leave now," The Headmaster bows.
Grindelwald has Draco? How could they ignore it? The longer Harry hides, the longer Draco will be endangered! But he'll expose himself if he moves, but there is no other choice.
The phoenix took pity on the boy and screeches. A burst of flames shine brightly and burst throughout the room.
"Fawkes!" Dumbledore yells out.
Harry takes his cue and runs out the door. His head swivels back and forth, deciphering which direction Headmaster Dippet took. He sees his robes flutter on the left turn.
"Professor Dippet!" Harry screams.
Dippet turns around, "Oh, Evans. How might I be of assistance?"
"Sir, I--"
"Is this about your grades? Several professors have expressed the same sentiment. You haven't been applying yourself. Perhaps, I should find you a tutor," He hums.
"What? No, that's not important--"
"Education is the utmost important for students, such as yourself. It'll be a shame if you squandered the opportunity you worked too hard for."
"Listen, I--"
"Come, I'm sure one of your classmates will be willing to tutor you."
"McClure went to Diagon Alley today, it not Malfoy!" Harry shouts.
"Why do you bring up Young..." His face turns stone cold. "What were you doing in Professor Dumbledore's office?"
"I was-- it doesn't matter! Every moment we waste here is another moment he--"
"I am aware you and McClure have a difficult past, but this crosses the line. You accuse him of taking Malfoy's identity and going to Diagon Alley in his place? Why do you intend to slander his name? Both of you are suffering the impacts of the war. Why feel the need to add to his pain?"
"You're not listening--"
"Not another word, Evans. Your list of infractions are piling up. Entering a professor's office without permission, stealing another student's application, then using his credentials to enter into Hogwarts. Now, creating falsehoods on his behalf," Dippet grabs Harry. "Anymore of this and you'll be leaving Hogwarts. Come we'll discuss this with all your professors."
Harry clicks his wrist and grips his wand, "I'm sorry, sir..."
He breaks free from Dippet's grasp.
"Imperio!"
Golden dust escapes from Harry's wand and floats into Dippet's nostrils. His sight becomes cloudy and his expression turns neutral.
"Professor Dippet..." Harry's stomach twists from using one of the Unforgivable Curses.
"I'm sorry..." He inhales, taking the letter from the Headmaster's hand. Silently he reads the contents. "Take us to your office."
The headmaster nods, "Yes..."
Harry will save Draco.
No matter what.
Notes:
Cracks in Draco's Pureblood ideologies are forming, will he finally understand the error of his ways?
Also here's a riddle, Harry should have been more careful when he used the Imperius Curse, because in the shadows someone was watching.
Any guesses?
Chapter Text
Draco stands in front of a mirror, carefully detailing his features. Centuries before his ancestors stood tall, making their lineage to him. He is A Malfoy. Past the reflections he sees, a soul wanders aimlessly. Could it not be a soul, but a memory? Draco follows it to a grand ceremony. The landscape is exquisite and lavish, with all the Slytherins chattering away. There on the stage, at the center of all attention, he sees himself. His mother and father by his side...
It's not a memory, it's his dream.
A dream he'll never experience.
Once Draco realizes, the scenery turns hazy and everything slowly disappears. He wakes up in a filthy, cobblestone cell. Draco groans and eyes curiously stare at him.
"Allen, look! He's awake!" A boy, around ten years old, with dark skin and fuzzy black hair yells.
Another boy, around a second year, who reminded Draco for a Weasley, walks beside the boy. "Careful, Danny." He cautiously stares at Draco.
"Ugh," Draco crooks out. He bones ache and crack when he sits up. "What time is it?"
"Those bastards don't give us clocks. You were out for a while," Allen replies bitterly.
"You're awake!" The little girl shouts.
Small arms wrap around Draco's neck, pulling him downwards. She squeezes Draco's aching bones.He would have shoved the Muggle off, but his arm is filled with pins and needles. Luckly brat.
Draco grabs the little girl's shoulder and pushes her away, "None of that, Muggle."
"That's not my name!" She pouts.
"Judy, get away from him!" Another voice screams, pulling Judy behind her back. "Muggles... That's what those monsters call us."
Her glare is ready to murder Draco.
The other two children run behind her. The eldest girl must be their leader. She looks about the same age as Draco. She has curly, messy blond hair. Like the rest, she is extremely filthy.
Is Draco in Grindelwald's Muggle den?
It's small. A flickering flame from the top torch lights up the whole room. Four mats are scattered across the ground, two of which, are huddled close to each other. The ground is oddly damp, and a foul odor emits from the walls. As far as Draco could see, the Muggles had no food, water, or basin for their waste. Is this what Grindelwald forced the Muggles, or is this how simply how they live?
"Let me go, Sandra!" Judy wiggles her way out of the grasp. She stands in front of Draco, extending her arms out wide. "He's not a meanie! He saved me!"
The eldest girl bites her lip. Guessing she made the connection that if Draco were one of Grindelwald's followers, then he would have been treated with more respect.
"Thanks for helping Judy. Your...?" She raises he eyebrow waiting for Draco to respond.
She is waiting for him to tell her his name. Draco rolls his eyes, "Malfoy."
Sandra holds Judy carefully, her eyes glaze over her bruises. "Thank you, Malfoy," she manages to articulate.
If Draco hadn't used his magic, she definitely would have been more injuried. But... If he hadn't been there, the Muggle would not have gotten hurt at all.
Judy pulls on Danny's arm and giggles, "That's a really funny sounding name!"
"Mal-foy," Allen deepens his voice, on the second half of Draco's family's name.
The two younger children laugh and Allen's mockery. Draco ought to teach these Muggles a lesson. He goes to grab his wand. Draco stands up patting his robes.
Nothing.
He clicks his tongue. Grindelwald must have taken it. But a small contraption sticks out and hits his runs. Draco pulls the object from his pocket, it's the Echo's Bell. The artifact he was going to use when they returned back to their time...
The object is completely useless now.
It's over isn't it?
The potion Potter found turns out to be nothing more than a Lover's cocktail! It's pathetic! They are stuck in 1942! There is no way to get back home...
"Hey Foy," Danny catches his attention.
What in the bloody hell? Did the insolent Muggle brat shorten his family's name to Foy? Draco opens his mouth to scold him--
"Did you sell your soul too?"
"I-- What?"
Danny twiddles with his fingers, "Well, my uncle said, the reason those people have powers is because they sell their souls for it. Then since they don't have souls anymore, they become... Monsters."
"That's utterly preposterous! Purebloods are the furthest thing from 'monsters'! We are the elite and have been given the right to magic!" Draco raises his voice.
"Really?" The boy's eyes sparkle.
"Of course," he scoffs.
Allen snaps his fingers. "Wait, if you are one of those bastards, but don't completely think like those bastards, maybe you can use your hocus pocus to get us out of here!"
"Allen!" Sandra scolds, "Watch your mouth."
"Bas-tards," the little girl repeats amused by the pronunciation.
"Judy, no!" Sandra covers her mouth pulling her back. "Don't say that! Allen!" she glares at the boy, who turns his eyes away.
"Sorry!" Judy gasps.
Sandra removes her hand, and sits on the filthy ground. Judy smiles and sits in front of her. She detangles the little girl's hair, trying her best to smooth out the knots. The other two boys take a seat as well, they form somewhat of a circle. Draco watches silently, maybe this was some sort of Muggle ritual.
"But will..." Sandra breaks his thoughts. "Will you help us?"
Help them?
Help the Muggles escape?
Then what?
Grindelwald and his followers will certainly chase them. Then ultimately recapture them again once again. There is no scenario where it made sense for Draco to help them. No, it's in his best interest to take Grindelwald's offer, to convince him he isn't working with Dumbledore. Then he will be protected from his wrath.
What was the point anyway? There is no way he can escape this timeline...
"No," Draco says bluntly, "It's impossible."
Sombreness fills the room. Everyone of them finally understands the dire situation they're in.
It's over.
"That's not true," Judy frowns.
Draco blinks, "What?"
"We'll go home! Our mommy and daddy are waiting for us!"
Her words of determination sound like a bloody insult.
"Don't be stupid, brat. Can't you see? We're stuck. There is absolutely no way home. There's no way Muggles can stand a chance against a mere Wizard. Nevermind a Dark Lord. No one will save you. You are literally worlds part..." He trails off.
As Draco is. Decades apart from his father and mother. None of which exist now in this timeline.
"But my mommy says hope is the strongest thing in the world! And I have some for all of us! So I won't give up! Never ever!" Judy shouts to the top of her lungs.
Hope?
How pathetic.
To believe in such a thing will not get Muggles far. The innocence of a child will be crushed by the brutality of reality. The truth will break her ideals.
So...
There was no need for Draco to crush it now.
He sighs and Judy refuses to look away from him. Her eyes only stop to blink.
Danny shifts uncomfortably, looking back and forth towards everyone's reaction. He folds down three of his fingers extending his pinky and his thumb.
"Ring, ring."
Sandra does the same gesture. "Hello?"
"Yes, hello. Can I speak to Ms. Judy?" The youngest boy asks.
"She's right here," Sandra replies moving her hand to Judy's mouth.
"Hello, this is Miss Judy speaking."
The Muggles strange actions throw Draco's thoughts out. He squints, "...What are you doing?"
"They are playing 'Phone Call'. See if you put your fingers like this and it looks like a phone," Allen explains.
"What the bloody hell is a phone?"
"That thing you use to talk to people who are super far away," Judy extends her arms far apart.
Draco chuckles, surprising he can still find enjoyment in such a bleak reality.
"Of course... Children and their insane imaginations."
Sandra squints, "Malfoy... Phones are real."
"What?"
After "borrowing" some of Professor Dippet's supplies, Harry orders him to find the origins of the letter. The location where Grindelwald wants to meet Dumbledore has "this is a trap" written all over it, but what other choice did he have? Honestly, the Imperius Curse might have been losing its potency, or Harry couldn't stomach controlling the Headmaster any longer. Harry places him in a deep sleep, then once Dippet wakes up he will remember talking to Dumbledore, but forget about everything. It'll feel like he has a wonderful rest.
Harry uses the Floo powder to transport himself to a closed shop. He didn't want to go to the heart of the battle, straight from Hogwarts. Harry rubs his eyes then closes them, and in visions Grindelwald's lair. He holds the powder tightly in his right hand, then throws it to the ground. His head spins from the disorientation. He made it into a dimly lit room. The candle torches circle a table facing a fireplace.
"Well, well..." A voice amuses.
He made it.
At least twenty people surround Harry. He ignores all of them and looks up to see Grindelwald. The man destined to lose to Dumbledore.
In exactly three more years.
Binds warp around Harry's limbs and he falls to the ground, kneeing.
"Oh, how curious..." The Dark Lord muses. "I knew Albus was willing to use students for his cause. But to put faith in two Slytherins? Now, that is interesting." He leans down to Harry. "Tell me... When should I be expecting him?"
"You have my condolences. Professor Dumbledore will not be joining us," Harry says forcefully, but polite.
Grindelwald lowly chuckles, and his laughter spreads to all of his followers. There's no way Harry can take them all.
"Brave or stupid. Could've mistaken you for a pathetic Gryffindor," The Dark Lord mocks Harry.
"Where is he?"
"He? Ah, young Malfoy. He is learning his lesson. Perhaps he will be forgiven once he knows his place," The Dark Lord says gleefully.
"Don't you dare hurt him," Harry snarls.
"I don't intend to harm either of you. Well... At least not today. No, Albus should be here to witness the mistakes he made," he pauses. "And if he does not come. I'll choose a day to mark his grand humiliation. To kill you on the precious day where morning and night meet." Grindelwald smiles, twirling a small vial in between his finger tips.
The day morning and night meet?
What is the old man going on about? Harry's eyes focus on the vial. That vial... It's the one Harry used to get the Basilisk's venom. His pupils widen. If Grindelwald had the vial and the list, that means he knows they are from the future.
Grindelwald notices a newfound fear in Harry's eyes. It wasn't the fear of death. He lifts up the vial and waves his hand. Immediately, his followers vanish.
"So... Albus, told you of our potion as well," Grindelwald states, he's not asking a question.
Their potion? Did they make it together?
Harry bites his lip.
He clicks his tongue. "How impersonal. To share our creation with two insolent, worthless, Slytherins students?! Albus!" Grindelwald growls hovering over his table against the wall.
Worthless?
That insult didn't make sense. If the Final Gambit helped time travels get back home, then Grindelwald knew they were from the future. Knowing that information would be priceless. So why would he say that?
Unless...
The Final Gambit had nothing to do with Time Magic.
"No..." Harry mutters.
"No matter," Grindelwald says at the exact same time. "Then I shall create something much, much more wonderful."
As the Muggles babble, Draco found himself slightly less annoyed than when he was in Muggles Studies classes. Their world had several oddities. Like metal, the size of a beast, that could be controlled from the inside. Some of the metal contraptions were on the streets and others could fly? Danny insisted that it was real, and that his father is currently using the flying metal.
It makes no sense!
The Muggle children tried to equate it to trains, but trains had tracks and were fueled by magic.
That made sense!
Allen then told him about small boxes that can emit visuals and voices that travel to different lands as a form of communication. How utterly prosperous! If such a thing is true, then there would be no need for owls to send out letters! There is also no doubt the Purebloods would have found out, no, created it first!
Draco also asked the Muggles about the "small gel-like disks you jam into your eyes to improve vision and change its color" Potter spoke of, but none of them have ever heard it. Another contradiction, all their stories must be rubbish!
But... Curious thoughts nonetheless.
Another notable quality is their kinship. Judy and Sandra were close. Draco would have thought they would be sisters, but none of the children were related at all. Judy and Sandra used to be neighbors, their flats close to one and other. But the rest, they all met in Grindelwald's Muggle den. Sandra insisted that despite their looks, despite their blood, the four of them are family, and with hope they'll all be able to return home.
Hope? What a pathetic lie to believe in. To seek asylum in the impossible to get through the day is complete nonsense.
The Wizarding World has magic at the top of the fingers, and Muggle settled for hope. But, if hope allowed them to create all those oddities, could it--
The cell door swings open and four of Grindelwald's followers swarm inside.
"Grab them all!" One says.
Judy and Sandra are pulled by their hair, then lifted into the air. Allen and Danny are stunned and dragged like a sack. The underlings narrow their eyes at Draco, and he squeezes them shut.
Nothing happens.
"Are you coming?" The other scoffs.
Draco darts his eyes to the Muggles then to Grindelwald's followers. He hesitantly nods, following behind them. Allen and Sandra shoot him glaring eyes, but Draco ignores them.
They travel up a winding staircase filled with cobblestone brick and cobwebs. They stop in front of a wooden door and one of Grindelwald's men shoves him inside. They drop the Muggles on the far side. This room is filled with minerals, spices, herbs, and other roots. There a large book sits on the lector, next to a boiling cauldron.
It's a Potion Laboratory.
A faint snap echoes, the four followers move aside to reveal Grindelwald, himself, walking towards Draco.
"Have you come to your senses, young Malfoy?" He asks nonchalantly. "Because this one hasn't." He gestures to the side of the wall.
"Potter?" Draco gasps.
"A Potter? How amusing..." He says to the binded Potter.
"Seems we are all here. So let's begin!" Grindelwald stirs the cauldron counterclockwise, and uncaps the vial containing the Basilisk's venom. He pours exactly eight drops into his concoction. Green smoke shoots up from the potion.
"Why Albus gave you our Final Gambit, I'd never know. But it did inspire me to create a new potion of my own. A potion of perfect submission. A potion of unyielding obedience..."
He pours the liquid into a chalice.
"...to the first person they lay eyes on. I dub it True Loyalty," Grindelwald lifts the chalice upwards as if giving a toast.
"However, new potions often have unnecessary side effects," He waves his hand and his followers bring the Muggles to their knees, forcing their mouths open. "So which Muggle should be my test subject?"
Draco's eyes widen staring at Sandra, Allen, Danny, and Judy. Each of them is filled with fear. Sandra looks at the others and her face falls.
"Mal--" A spell hits her in the chest. She screams in agony.
Potter growls at the violence, "Grindelwald, you--"
"Muggles!" Grindelwald shakes his head. "They don't know how to silence themselves. Now..." He walks to each of the Muggles. Then he stops at Judy, "Ugh. I suppose you'll suffice."
Grindelwald grabs Judy's throat, she squirms and attempts to scream, but a silencing spell stops her.
Judy, the six year old Muggle girl, stolen from her home. Forced to be a prisoner to Grindelwald's amusement. Their "Muggle Magic" can't save her. The time has come for her optimistic world view to be broken. Her Hope has failed her.
And...
All Draco could do is watch...
"STOP!!!"
Draco eyes widen, as everyone's eyes turn to Potter struggling within his bindings.
"Don't you dare touch her! I'll do it! I'll drink it!!!" He shrieks.
What is Potter doing?! If there was anyone able to slip out of a deadly situation, it would be him! So why is he willing to risk everything for... For a Muggle he has never met?
Grindelwald pulls the chalice back. "Amusing. You truly are one of Albus' disciples." He drops Judy on the floor and appears in front of Potter.
Draco glances back over to Judy. She's crying, but thank Merlin, she's alright-- What? No, he shouldn't be feeling that way...
The chalice is a hair from Potter's lips. Grindelwald grins, "Fine, then. Drink it."
Potter's expression is filled with pure hate. If looks could kill, he would already be a serial killer. Potter nods, then Grindelwald pours the green smokey liquid down his throat. The foolish Gryffindor drinks it without hesitation. He shallows the entire potion, then his eyes blink slowly and closes.
"Remove his bindings."
"But my Lord--"
"Do it!" Grindelwald orders.
Magical swarms around Potter and his binds burst into nothingness. Potter immediately hits the ground. After a few seconds, he moves. Draco holds his breath, maybe the potion has no effect?
Potter sits up resting on his knees. Grindelwald squats down to the Gryffindor. When Potter's eyes open, the first thing he sees is Grindelwald.
Draco's face falls.
No.
It can't be...
Potter deeply bows, "My Lord."
An eerie smile spreads across Grindelwald's face. "Well, gentlemen. I am proud to present our new recruit!"
The four underlings cheer at the proclamation. The potion, it worked. Dread fills Draco's bones. There's no way out.
Grindelwald waltzes around the potion room then makes his way towards Draco. "Now, which side do you prefer to be on? I am extending my merciful hand to you Malfoy. I know you'll make the right decision."
Draco's mouth opens, his eyes land on Sandra, Allen, Danny, and Judy. What could he do? What is he supposed to do? It's in his best interest to take Grindelward's hand and serve underneath him.
So...
Why won't his body move?
Grindelwald clicks his tongue. "Perhaps you need more motivation. Let's see how your little friend fairs. I doubt his abilities surpass yours." He snaps his fingers and Potter heads straight to his side. "Well, boy. My very first order to you..." He looks at the Muggles then smirks.
"Kill them."
Potter bows once again, "Yes, my Lord."
"Wait!" Draco screams only to get tackled by one of Grindelwald's men. His knee pushes against Draco's back. "You stupid, idiotic, bloody git..."
Potter ignores Draco and stands in front of Sandra, Allen, Danny, and Judy. Grindelwald's underlings move aside. They tremble with eyes full of tears.
Potter raises his wand, "Ava..."
No!
"Stupefy!" Potter yells, striking Grindelwald right in the chest.
What?!
"Confringo!" He yells out another spell striking the man on top of Draco. Potter Accios his wand from Grindelwald robes.
"Catch!" Potter tosses his wand, then flips back, "Expelliarmus!" He knocks the wand out of the guard's hand.
The remaining two take their aim towards the Muggles.
"Protego!" Draco blocks the attacks, standing in front of them.
"Malfoy!" Judy squeals happily.
Now, Draco couldn't let Potter steal all of his glory, not while he had an audience.
"Confringo!" The blast shoots both underlings at once.
"That's so cool!" Danny praises.
Judy jumps up and clings to Draco's neck, she smiles at him. His spell is more powerful than Potter's. He smirks at the Gryffindor.
Potter rolls his eyes, "Not the time! Expecto Patronum!!"
The room shakes, then from Potter's wand, a silver wisp flashes. In an instant, the wisp morphs into an enormous silver stag. It shines brightly, dazzling like pure magic. The stag's antlers, wide like tree branches. Potter whispers to it and it flies out of the window.
Bloody bastard.
Who's the one showing off now?
Potter grabs random ingredients and throws them into the cauldron. The potion inside bubbles over, shooting out liquid everywhere. Grindelwald groans and finally shakes off the spell. Potter grabs Danny on his back.
"We got to get out of here!"
Draco holds Judy securely in his arms.
"Alohomora!" He shoots the door off their hinges.
Allen and Sandra run out first followed by Draco, Judy, Potter and Danny. They run down the spiraling stairwell. The potion boils and overflows from the cauldron then explodes. What side effects it caused to Grindelwald and his underlings, Draco didn't want to stay and find out.
Finally, on the ground floor, Potter blasts a hole into the wall and they all hide amongst the trees. The six of them squat down, and Draco covers Judy's mouth as chaos in Grindelwald's lair unfolds. Both wizards cast a protection charm and a hidden spell around them.
"AURORS!!" They can hear a woman yell.
Then a portion of Grindelwald's army stays to fight, the rest retreat.
Potter smiles, "They got it..."
"What?" Sandra asks.
"I sent the Patronus to the Aurors. Uh... I sent a message to the magical authorities. So don't worry. You're all safe now," Potter smiles at the Muggles.
Sandra sighs in relief, "Thank God! Thank you! Both of you!" Tears slip from her eyes falling to the ground.
"Your hocus pocus rocks!" Allen cheers.
"Imma tell my uncle you do have a soul!" Danny leaps off Potter's back and rushed to Draco.
Potter snickers, "Well, I'm not sure about that one."
Draco glares, but two little arms wrap around his neck, and squeeze him tightly.
"I knew it! I told you hope is the strongest!! No, wait... You are the strongest!!! Malfoy, you're the bestest!!! You are my hero!!!!" Judy loudly proclaims. She pokes Draco's cheek, "Thank you so, so, super, duper, very much! I'll never forget this! Even if I live to being one hundred!"
An emotion hits Draco.
Something unfamiliar. Nothing like he has felt before. It isn't like the other times where he outperformed Potter, nor is it the feeling of pride. It's something else. These Muggles, Sandra, Allen, Danny, and Judy, made Draco feel...
"Me too," he replies, hugging her back. "Me too. I'll never forget you..."
Draco breathes in.
"Obliviate!"
Sandra, then Allen, then Danny, and finally Judy fall gently to the ground. Draco picks apart their minds scrubbing them of their interactions with him. When the Aurors find them, they'll see Grindelwald kidnapping them from their homes, but that'll be all.
None of them will ever remember Draco.
Harry watches Draco erases their memories. His expression is hurt, but grateful. Draco shoots a spell up into the sky. Quickly, Draco pulls him to hide while an Auror flock to the commotion. She finds the four Muggles. The eldest girl, Harry thinks her name is Sandra, gets up first. She looks extremely confused, she grabs hold of the little girl when the Auror comes closer to them. The Auror asks her several questions, most likely determining she is a Muggle, along with the rest of the children. The Auror reassures them, that they are now safe from Grindelwald, and they will return home. More Aurors arrive at the scene, then they all disappear.
Draco stands up asking Harry how to return to Hogwarts. He explains how he used a Floo powder to get there. Draco scoffs and walks ahead.
It's quiet.
Draco is quiet.
Too quiet.
He probably doesn't want to talk about what happened when he was kidnapped, or what happened between him and the other four. Harry silently follows, but he did have something to say.
"Draco."
Draco's feet stop.
Harry takes it as a positive sign, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things about you or your family. You're right. I don't know your situation."
Draco doesn't turn back, but he did take Harry's apology into consideration. "Maybe... Muggles aren't as filthy as I thought," he mumbles.
Harry's eyes widen. Did he just hear that right? Extreme Pureblood Draco Malfoy admitting he was wrong?
"W-what did you say?"
Draco blushes, "Merlin! I didn't know that your poor eyesight also impaired your hearing! I-- Wait."
The Slytherin runs back and grabs Harry's shoulders. He gawks deeply into Harry's eyes. Harry scrunches up his nose then pulls away, but Draco doesn't let him go.
He grazes into Harry's eyes, and leans even closer. So much it was getting a bit uncomfortable.
"Uh, Draco?"
"That's it!" Draco yells. "That's how you were able to resist Grindelwald's True Loyalty potion. That's why Riddle's Legilimency doesn't affect you! It's those disks in your eyes!"
What?
His contacts?
The contacts that change his green eyes to brown, stops Legilimency? That would explain why he wasn't affected by the Basilisk's glare too. The potion, True Loyalty, only works on the first person they lay eyes on, but since his eyes are covered its...
"Draco, you're brilliant! The silicon in the contacts must counteract specific parts of magic! It must be the same principle that makes magical creatures not appear on Muggle cameras, or the static that interrupts the electric currents in technology! "
Harry excitedly rambles on and on. Draco raises his hand.
"...Potter, the latter half of your statement was utter nonsense, but the proclamation of me being brilliant is absolutely correct. So, fifty points to Gryffindor."
Harry sighs, "Nonetheless, this is fantastic news. I no longer have to be worried about Riddle entering my mind. We can focus on a way to get out of 1942!"
"That's..." Draco trails off.
"Potter. The ingredients for the potion you found... It's useless. Utter rubbish! Some concoction Grindelwald and Dumbledore created as their dying devotion towards one another. It... It won't return us home."
"I found out too... But I'm not ready to give up hope. I promise Draco. No matter what, whatever it takes, I will get us home."
Ever since Harry said the word "hope", Draco had a strange expression on his face. After a few moments he finally snaps back to reality.
"I'll hold you to it," Draco replies with a hint of a smile.
After a couple hundred steps, Harry and Draco find a hut, they break inside with an "alohomora". The fireplace there is part of the Floo Network. Harry gives some of the powder to Draco. They couldn't just appear back in the Headmaster's office that would cause too much commotion. Especially, due to the fact they both have been missing for a day. Any other offices at Hogwarts would provide the same risks.
Where? Where could they go?
Harry paces around the floor and Draco impatiently taps his foot. It's not like he is cooking up any ideas! Wait! Cooking! Of course they could Floo into the kitchens, where the ingredients for the meals are delivered, hopefully the elves wouldn't be too upset.
"Draco, the kitchen!"
Harry grasps the powder into his hand and Draco does the same. Together they slam it downwards at the same time. They appear back in Hogwarts, starling the kitchen elves. Harry apologizes profusely. Explain to them it's a student prank. Draco rolls his eyes and drags him out, back to the Common Room. Regretfully, almost all the items Draco bought at Diagon Alley were stolen by Grindelwald, but it is still good to be back. Harry could go for a long bath with bubbles and suds. Honestly, Draco looks as if he could use one as well.
They turn down the corridor to the Slytherin's House, but they see a small crowd of students along with Professor Dumbledore, Professor Slughorn, and... Headmaster Dippet.
When the professors see them, they immediately head their way.
"Malfoy!" Professor Slughorn exclaims.
Did... Did he just call Draco, "Malfoy"?
Headmaster Dippet shouldn't know Draco was the one in Diagon Alley, because of the Imperius Curse... But that means Riddle must have been told them Draco is a Malfoy.
Harry's eyes widen.
That means they know the letter delivered to Dumbledore is real. Draco was kidnapped, and now he suddenly reappeared.
"Young man, there is a lot of explaining you have to do," Dumbledore says harshly.
Headmaster Dippet gently pats Draco's shoulder, "Come with us."
"Wait!" A student over dramatically gasps.
Harry turns to the annoying voice. Lestrange gives a sly smirk towards Harry. What exactly is his problem?
"Evans! Why were you with Malfoy?!"
Everyone's attention shifts to him.
"Indeed... That is rather odd," Professor Dumbledore stares at Harry, his hand holds his chin.
If they find he went to save Draco then they'll know he went off campus. No. More than that they'll know he has been hiding his real wand, and start questioning him.
The future is at risk!
Harry internally panics, "I--"
"Evans," Riddle cuts in.
He doesn't weave through the masses, no, they make a path for him. Then Riddle opts to stand right beside Harry.
"Was with me. I was tutoring him for the past several hours. We took a break, so I could speak with Headmaster Dippet. He must have wandered and ran into Malfoy."
"What?! You don't tutor--" Lestrange's words fall short after a single glance at Riddle. He really does have them all in the palm of his hand.
"A special exception for Evans. I wanted to ease him from his..." Riddle stares into Harry's eyes, and this time Harry doesn't back down. "Burdens."
Riddle looked caught off guard with Harry's sudden eye contact.
"Ah yes. Riddle informed me of the tutoring session today," Headmaster Dippet nods.
Then Malfoy, Avery, Black, Rosier, Mulciber, and Nott chime in, complying with Riddle's tall tale. With Lestrange glaring at Harry with killing intent.
Riddle has given him a brilliant cover story. But...
Why?
Notes:
Finally, Drarry's friendship has finally planted their roots. Unfortunately, Draco is still Draco and Harry is still Harry. They will bicker and insult each other, but now with a level of mutual respect underneath.
As for Tomarry, they'll be front and center, next chapter. Harry is feeling bolder now that he knows Legilimency doesn't have an effect on him, but Tom still has a few tricks up his sleeve.
And about the Muggles, they all made it back home to their families. However, Danny's father was a pilot in WWII, so he does return home, but unfortunately he never got to see his father again.
Chapter Text
After more several explanations, or rather lies, everyone is convinced of Riddle's story. However, Dumbledore gives Harry a strange scowl. Professor Dipper ushers Draco and his grandfather away to be further questioned in the piracy of his office, and with a single glance professor Dumbledore and professor Slughorn join him. Harry watches as they turn the corner. If he can get to his Invisibility Cloak in time, he can probably eavesdrop on their conversation. Before he can take a step, Harry's arm gets pulled back.
By Riddle.
Harry tries to yank his arm away, but Riddle squeezes tighter.
"Evans, might I have a word?" Riddle flashes a charming smile.
Harry shakes his head. "Sorry Riddle, after spending a whole day studying with you, I'd rather do anything else."
The Head Boy's eye twitches. His perfect mask crackles ever so slightly, but with his pre-Death Eaters watching he can't afford a public slip up. Riddle shifts and readjusts his collar, his fake grin returns with full force.
"Surely, you'd want to study the next History chapter. It includes Azkaban, and it's quite complicated. Did you know, you could be sent there for life for various atrocities. Even for performing spells. Haven't we already gone over the three Unforgivable Curses? Avada Kedavra, Cruciatus..." Riddle's breath stoops to Harry's ear.
"Imperius."
Ice travels across Harry's veins. The shiver flashes through his whole body.
When he used Imperio on Headmaster Dippet...
Riddle was there.
Harry's throat has never felt more dry. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Really, what could he say? He is like a deer in headlights, and Riddle can't contain his smugness. He takes the opportunity to slip his arm around Harry's waist.
"I suppose Evans realized how much he didn't know. I'll be tutoring him in my room. Don't disturb us," he orders, leading them into his bedroom. Lestrange gasps and leans forward to protest, but the other pre Death Eaters nod at the command. However, shocked expressions lingers on their face.
Is Riddle's room off limits?
Riddle wandlessly opens the door and locks it shut. Inside to the right of the door is a dark oak, green colored bed. His pillows are straight and fluffed, much better than the pillows they had in the other rooms. His blankets are pleasantly made, no wrinkles in sight. Across from his bed is his desk. All the quills and paperwork are aligned and organized. Then straight forward is his wardrobe. Riddle has both a trunk, dresser, and a wardrobe. His room is just as expected, perfect.
Riddle gives one more squeeze to Harry's waist and lets him go. He walks to the far side of the room to his dresser. Nagini, appearing out of nowhere, slithers up, coiling her body on Riddle's arm.
"Masssster! You have returned!" She hisses in delight. Riddle gently rubs her scales. Almost as if he actually cared. "You have brought ssssomeone into our dwelling? No one comessss here! Issss he sssspecial?"
"Very special," Riddle whispers back in Parseltongue.
Harry's initial reaction is to yell out "I'm not!" But he bites back his tongue. Riddle already saw him use Imperio, he can't let him find out he understands him.
"How..."
"Hmm? How many?" Riddle scratches Nagini's flaky scales off.
"No, you must be mistaken. See, my room is my sanctuary. My solitude. The others know not to enter here. I haven't brought a single soul other than you." Riddle smirks, "Besides Nagini, of course, but no need to feel jealous."
Harry's fist clenches white, he scowls, "You know what I'm talking about."
Riddle places Nagini back down on the dresser and lightly taps his head. "Oh, you mean about Professor Dippet. How you performed one of the Unforgivable Curses. How you used the powerful Dark Arts. How you stole Dippet's free will."
Harry flinches.
Riddle grins, slowly approaching him, like a wild beast trying to intimidate its prey. He circles Harry, inspecting his details.
"I was on my way to the Headmaster to formally inform him the truth between both Malfoys. There I saw you two in such a deep conversation, it'll be rude for me to interrupt," Riddle fans out Harry's robe and presses his hand against his body.
His touch, distinct yet gentle.
"So, I waited patiently," Riddle finds what he's looking for.
His wand.
Luckily, he grabbed the wrong one.
"What I heard was very interesting. You snuck into Professor Dumbledore's office, and had such urgency to protect... Malfoy." Riddle says his name with a hint of malice. "When Dippet was about to expel you I knew I had to step in, but before I could... You used it." Riddle slips the wand to his neck. Then moves downwards on the knot loosening his tie.
Harry swallows.
Riddle chuckles. "I was worried when you didn't exit his office. Unfortunately, others demanded my attention, but when I eventually returned, Dippet was exhausted. He said he hadn't seen you at all since you arrived. I informed him I offered to be your personal tutor. It came in handy after Malfoy's 'missing debut'. After all you both escaped..."
Riddle traces the wand against Harry's exposed collarbone. "Don't fret, I won't tell a soul. If you tell me what I need to know."
What he needs to know? He already knows too much! How did he even hear about Grindelwald's kidnapping?! Harry was sent to fix the past, not screwing it up even more! He already changed too much! And Riddle... He's too smart, he can't beat him! A sting from Harry's eyes causes it to water, he was squeezing his eyes too tight.
Wait, his eyes.
Riddle's Legilimency is useless.
He could fight back.
Harry breaths.
"Riddle have you overdosed on potion fumes? I think it's starting to affect your mind. Oh wait, or were you are always bloody delusional!"
Riddle slams Harry against the door, "Evans. My patience with you is running thin! Blatant disrespect will get you nowhere near my good graces."
The Boy Who Lived stares him dead in the eye, no longer running away. "I don't care about your 'good graces'."
Riddle clicks his tongue, "I've noticed. Ever since you arrived, you have been avoiding me, and now, you've become so hostile. But my question is why? Why?! Evans, haven't I been nothing but polite, kind, and attentive? What have I done to receive this cruelty?"
"Spare me the theatrics, Riddle. I know what you're planning, and I don't agree," Harry snaps back.
Riddle tilts his head, almost curious.
"See? You seem to know so much about me, but I haven't the slightest about you. Hardly seems fair, now does it?"
"So, go ahead then! Use Legilimency on me! Pick apart my brain and get all the answers you want!"
"Tsk," Riddle's anger returns, he lifts up Harry's fake wand at his neck.
"We both know Legilimency doesn't work on you, and it's not due to Occlumency. Your mind isn't closed off, it's blank. Your existence burdens me with too many unanswered questions! Why do you hide your powers? Why do you hide from me? There is something that connects us, isn't there? Evans, what do you know?!"
What's Harry supposed to say? There is no way he can, no, will ever tell him the truth! What is he supposed to do now?!
He's at Riddle's mercy...
A whisper, a memory, enters in his mind.
"Evans, you--"
Harry slaps Riddle's hand away, warping his own around Riddle's neck.
For a moment, Riddle's eyes widen, but before he could question more, Harry pulls him down.
Locking their lips.
"He is incapable of feeling love; he wasn't made for it."
Riddle is asking too many questions. Surely, an action like this will distract him from the whole conversation! Sure, Riddle was interested in him, but that's it! Any moment now, Riddle will push him away, completely disgusted.
Except, he doesn't...
Instead, that brief look of shock Riddle's face vanishes. He drops the wand, embracing the kiss. Something soft and wet brushes against Harry's lips.
No way, that's...
Harry shakes his head, denying entry. Riddle groans in frustration. His leg slips between Harry's thighs, pushing them apart to rub his groin.
Harry gasps.
That small opening is all Riddle needs to force in his tongue. He explores every crevice of his mouth.
Riddle...
Riddle's taste...
No, he is addicting, his technique is unmatched. Heat ignites deep inside Harry, he never had a kiss like this before. Riddle is in full control now, confidently grinding their bodies together, his huge bugle rubbing against Harry's. A pressure rises in his pants. It simultaneously felt good, but not enough. Pure pleasure clouds Harry's mind. Subconsciously, he moves closer to Riddle's heat.
Riddle cups Harry's cheeks and brings their foreheads together. Riddle's skin meets his scar. A wave of heat and electricity jolts in between them. Much more intense than before, it feels like his soul is yearning for Riddle. Screaming for him. Begging him to touch him more! Harry wants, no needs this! Urges swell up in the pit of Harry's stomach. His heart beats faster, and shamefully a moan slips past his lips. It doesn't get far, because Riddle's lips are back in his. The kiss turns much more aggressive. Passion possesses Harry to grip Riddle's hair. Riddle's hand pulls him closer and kneads Harry's arse.
Anymore and he will burst!
When Riddle pulls away, Harry can't help it. He whimpers lightly. A string of saliva is the only thing that connects them. Harry's knees are weak, and vision blurry, his overworked contacts not helping either. Eventually, he looks up, seeing not the usual flawless, perfect, put together Riddle. No, he sees Riddle staring down at him looking...
Disheveled?
Hungry...
Possessive.
This is getting out of hand.
"Evans..." He moans his name. He leans down once more, brushing their lips together.
It'll be so easy to fall back into pleasure. Harry's lips move.
"Flipendo!"
Riddle flies backwards slamming into the wardrobe. Before Riddle could get up, Harry bolts out the room. He runs out of the Slytherin House passing several confused pre-Death Eaters along the way. He fixes his clothes the best he can. Hopefully, none of them realized that he has a hard-on.
That wasn't supposed to happen! He wasn't supposed to be grinding against Riddle! Making out like horny teenagers! Why did he go along? Why did he take it so far?! Could it be Riddle might actually have feelings for-- No, no! That's preposterous! Riddle is probably sexually frustrated because he hasn't found the Chamber of Secrets. But if that's true, why doesn't he go to one of his pre Death Eaters? Harry is sure Lestrange will leap at the chance to be Riddle's personal relief! Maybe he just wanted to seduce Harry to get him to spill all his secrets! Yeah, that's it!
So... Why did it feel so good?
No! Remember, no matter what he says, no matter what he does. He cannot be trusted.
"Draco, I hope you're fairing better."
The pendulum swings back and forth, time has never gone slower than this. Draco never thought he'll be back in Headmaster's Dippet 's office. He stands in front of the desk and behind him are Professor Slughorn, Dumbledore, and his grandfather. Dippet begins questioning his past. Before he could come up with a reasonable excuse, Abraxas appears by his side.
Explaining their complicated family issue.
Years ago, before Abraxas Malfoy was born, his mother, Rosaline Estelle, was engaged to Damien Malfoy, his father. They formed a union in support of Pureblood ideals, and to uphold the proud Malfoy name. However, his father's ex-flame attempted to sabotage the marriage. She was obsessed with him, claiming that she was the one that was supposed to marry Damien. The harlot was a disgraceful mudblood trying to weasel her way to the Malfoy riches. She disappeared, never to be heard from again. Then they were wed, and Rosaline Estelle became Rosaline Malfoy.
Everything was perfect until Rosaline was pregnant. During her pregnancy there were difficulties with her body. She took several potions so her inners could become stable. The midwife was late to the birth, but Abraxas Malfoy was born. However, unbeknownst to them, the filthy mudblood was the midwife. Rosaline Malfoy has twins, and she stole the baby.
When Abraxas is done, he ties up his hair. Then he points to Draco, "Draco McClure, no. Draco Malfoy is my twin."
It's a brilliant story. If Draco had been anyone else, he would surely be convinced, just as Headmaster Dippet and Professor Slughorn are.
Professor Dumbledore raises his hand, cutting into the conversation. "Young Malfoy, though I understand the difficulties involving personal matters, I must ask. What part did Riddle play in this realization?"
"...I knew of the pathetic Mudblood trying to sabotage my parents' ceremony, but I didn't know her obsession was to this extent. However, it was Riddle who brought the truth to light. He saw the similarities between myself and Draco. Then come to the correct conclusion. He spoke with Draco beforehand and together they explored my... Our lineage."
Professor Slughorn claps his hand in pure glee. "Ah, young Riddle always thinking of the wellbeing of the Slytherins. How he was able to come to the correct conclusion is nothing less, but amazing. He's marvelous, splendid, and brilliant!"
Dippet hums in agreement, "A fine young man who will go on to achieve great things."
So it was Riddle who came up with the tall tale. The way he could weave slight details into a convincing story, is indeed, magnificent. Everyone in the room fully believes in the deception.
A barely audible huff escapes from Dumbledore. Did Professor Dumbledore just scoff? Did he distrust Riddle, or rather Slytherins as a whole?
"Such an elaborate explanation," Dumbledore mumbles. "Now," he looks at Abraxas, "Is it true you, were given special permission from Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet for off campus purchases at Diagon Alley?"
"Yes sir, I was. However, I sought to extend the offer to Draco. Since he came rather late, and was lacking in supplies. I allowed him to become Madly for the shopping expedition, thus when he returned, Riddle and I were going to make the announcement of our name. However, he went missing," Abraxas explains.
"Thank you, Malfoy." Headmaster Dippet cuts in, "Professor Slughorn will escort you back to the dormitory." Draco, Malfoy, and Professor Slughorn bow and head towards the exit. "Ah, not you young Draco. We still have much to discuss."
As soon as the footsteps leave, and the door shuts, Dumbledore's face turns stone cold.
Headmaster Dippet clears his throat, dropping a letter in the center of his desk.
"Grindelwald sent a ransom note sent to Dumbledore... For you."
That's true...
"I have sent a letter to Hogwarts as we speak. But will they make it in time?" Grindelwald chuckles, and the rest of the group laughs as well.
Draco's saliva dries before he can speak.
"Young Malfoy are you alright? Were you hurt in any way? Shall we call a healer?" Professor Dippet asks full of concern.
"Uh, no sir. It... It was difficult."
"When Riddle approached Professor Dippet with the reveal of your heritage," Dumbledore says Riddle's name in slight agitation, but he quickly moves on, "You have been missing for over a day. Just as we were going to notify the Aurors, you appeared. What happened?"
Honesty is the best policy? What nonsense! There is no way he could tell them the truth! Potter was the one who came to rescue him, but Riddle has already provided him with the tutoring alibi! Even so, a bloody Gryffindor like him probably left school without proper permission.
Sweat steps from Draco's forehead down to his cheek. "Sir... I escaped."
Dumbledore's narrow. "Quite impossible. Grindelwald is the most powerful Dark Lord to date. The only way you could have escaped on your own, is... If he let you go." He glares at Draco. Suspicious of him.
Was Dumbledore accusing him of being part of Grindelwald's army?! Of course, the thought slipped his mind, but to imply such a thing to a student, a student who had recently been kidnapped! Is utterly idiotic! Draco almost supposed Dumbledore ought to die.
He inhales and exhales, his rage still not down, but well enough. "Professor, I never said I escaped on my own. "
Dippet's eyes widen, "Who helped?"
Draco bites his lips. "A powerful wizard came. He outsmarted Grindelwald. Then Judy-- uh... The Muggles and I, all managed to escape. When Aurors arrived, he made sure I wasn't involved with the aftermath. Then sent me back to Hogwarts."
"Muggles?" Dippet presses.
"Yes... They were children Grindelwald kidnapped to push forward his agenda. He used them as he please, but the Aurors arrived, and they should be safe..." Draco reassures the Professors, maybe himself even more.
Dumbledore stays silent, but a flash of grief appears on his face. Could it be he is ashamed of loving a monster? "A powerful wizard, you say?" He asks.
Potter flashes through Draco's mind. He scoffs with a hint of a smile, "Indeed. He wished not to be named."
Headmaster Dippet raises from his desk and wraps his arms around Draco. "You poor boy. To go through such a terrible ordeal. You're safe now. You're safe here. Nothing like this shall ever happen again."
Draco doesn't hug back, "Thank you sir."
Dippet let's go and pats him on the shoulder, "Albus. Please escort young Malfoy back. I'm sure he's exhausted."
Dumbledore glances at Draco, he could feel Dumbledore trying to use Legilimency on him, but he doesn't let him press more. The future Headmaster sighs, then together they leave his office. Draco couldn't wait to take a long bath.
Underneath the table, surrounded by several wards and privacy spells, Harry doesn't move a muscle. He bites his lip, then slowly licks them. It isn't anything like when Riddle did...
Harry blushes and slams his face into his palms. He needs to get a grip! There are bigger things at stake!
Harry slumps down to the floor and rolls side to side in embarrassment and shame. His head hits against the leg of the table and various books fall to the ground. One directly falls in his right eye.
"Ow..." The table leg hit the exact spot as his old bruise! Harry groans rubbing his eye once again.
One of the books fell on its pages creating a small triangle from the floor. Harry, with one eye closed, scoops up the room flipping through the pages. It's an astronomy book, listing out the names of the constellations.
Wait...
He quickly switches back to a previous page. There in the book is the image of the moon in front of the sun.
"I'll choose a day to mark his grand humiliation. To kill you on the precious day where morning and night meet," Grindelward said.
Morning and night meet?
A solar eclipse.
Harry reads the rest of the text. "When solar magic and lunar magic alter day and night. Its effect only lasts briefly, but underneath the direct shadows, it can provide wizards and witches with immense power all throughout time and space."
"That's it!" Harry shouts.
The door bursts open.
"Evans?"
Crap.
Harry squats underneath the table, but Riddle casts a lighting spell and everything gets brighter. When Harry is close enough to the door...
"Depulso!"
This time Riddle gracefully blocks the attacks, so Harry does what he does best.
He runs.
"Evans!" He could hear Riddle yell from a distance.
Harry rushes back into the Slytherins dorms, Riddle behind him and unreasonably angry.
Why was his vision worse all of a sudden? Harry rubs his right eye again.
He heads straight for the bedroom and casts a spell on the door, locking shut. Harry holds his right eye, as it pulses from the pain. Did he lose his contact? In his side view, he sees someone by his trunk.
A familiar platinum blonde hair.
"Draco, thank Merlin you're back! Are you okay? Listen, I think I found a way back home! We have to wait until--" He steps on something squishy.
"YOU IMBECILE! THAT'SSSS MY TAIL!!!" Nagini hisses at him.
"Sorry!" Harry immediately steps away from the poor snake.
She pauses in surprise. Maybe he recognized Harry when they were in Riddle's room, while they were... Harry shakes his head. Nagini hisses, then slithers over Harry's foot to the other bed, "Ssssince you are Tom'ssss sssspecial, I ssssuppose all is forgiven."
Phew. With all the crimes Harry has done in this timeline, he didn't want to add animal abuse to the list.
"Y-you spoke..." The voice gasps.
"Huh?" Harry rubs his eye.
Oh, of course the snake, he must have slipped into Parseltongue by accident again. He never had full control over it.
But, wait...
Why was Draco surprised? He knew he could speak it since their second year.
Unless...
Harry bolts for the door, but Malfoy grabs him pinning him on the floor. His legs are on either side of Harry's, his chest is on Harry's back, and his hands grab his own.
The doors burst open.
All Harry could only see the intruder's shoes. But, by the black shine and perfect knot, he knew exactly who was in front of him.
"Malfoy..." he hisses.
Harry could feel the atmosphere lower and Malfoy's trembling body.
"Get off of him," Riddle orders with pure anger.
"Riddle! My Lord! Please! It's not what you think!"
"Your infractions are piling up..." Riddle replies lowly.
"E-Evans! H-he speaks Parseltongue!!!" Malfoy yells, right into Harry's ears.
"What?"
Riddle blasts Malfoy off of him. Before Harry could sit up, Riddle lifts his chin up with his finger. There, Harry's one brown eye and his one true emerald green, meets Riddle's eyes.
"Evans," he whispers in Parseltongue. "Speak, breathe, Anything. Everything! Prove you are a Parselmouth!"
Without another thought, Harry yells the only spell that helped him in dire situations.
"Expecto Patronum!!!"
A white stag knocks Riddle back and circles around the room. Harry, the ever opportunist, uses the moment to escape. It feels like the only thing he accomplished in this timeline is run away. He holds his right eye, so his vision can be clearer. While running down the hallways he sees Professor Dumbledore and the Malfoy he is actually looking for.
"Draco!" He shouts.
"Pot-- Evans?" Draco replies.
Harry grabs Draco's shoulder shaking him violently, "Riddle! Riddle is-- Riddle is Riddle! He knows too much!!"
"Evans--"
"And look!" Harry points to his right eye. "My eye. Look at my eyes! I bet one is brown and the other is green now, right?"
"Evans! I--
"Draco, will you let me finish?! Listen, I know it's been a rough day, and you deserve a break, later after you get all cleaned up I need to talk to you!! I found something about--"
Draco grabs Harry's shoulders and yells, "HARRY!!!"
Did Draco just...
Harry stares shell-shocked at his long time rival. His name sounds so strange coming out of his mouth, but not uncomfortable.
Harry slightly smiles, "Y-you called me Harry..."
"Harry," Draco says again, squeezing his shoulders.
"You aren't speaking English."
Happiness evaporates. Harry blinks, then blinks again, and one more time.
...What?
Notes:
One of Harry's green eyes are in full view by none other then Tom Riddle! How will this further ruin his plans to get home? It's up to Draco now to step up.
Also a shout out to user: eleven_eaves for making "malediction". I read the summary and I wanted to put my spin on it for the next few chapters. Please support their fic too!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/52498969
Chapter Text
After leaving Headmaster Dippet's office, Professor Dumbledore and Draco walk down the long corridors of Hogwarts. The journey is uncomfortably silent. Well, to give the benefit of the doubt, Dumbledore didn't know him enough to engage in conversation. However, what added more tensions is the obvious fact the old professor doesn't believe him. And he is supposed to kill him...
"Young Malfoy."
"Sir?" Draco coughs.
"You are aware your explanation was vague, so I am unable to verify the truth behind your words."
Draco has to will himself not to roll his eyes. He is a bloody Slytherin, what did the old man expect? Of course, he would have to edit some of the details, but his overall story was the truth!
"But," The professor adds.
"I am glad you are safe. If you need to vent your emotions, I'll be willing to lend an ear. Grindelwald... He is very dangerous."
Draco shivers remember the way he treated the Muggles. However, they are in the care of the Aurors, and the memory of the four lifted his spirits slightly. It's almost soothing and strangely comforting? Why do they make him feel...
Draco realizes he hasn't replied to Dumbledore, "Ah, yes. I know."
"While you were captured, did he say anything useful? Anything which we could use to end the war earlier?"
"Nothing I found useful. However, he implied you two were former love-- uh..." Draco's eyes wander to the left. "Formerly, very close."
"Ah... I see," Dumbledore mumbles, like he knew exactly what Draco was about to say.
He shakes his head, "Grindelwald... He has qualities. Magnificent qualities. Such qualities which made him powerful and brilliant."
His words get caught in his throat. "But his lust for dominance, for control, had no end... Despite my best efforts I couldn't save him. Sometimes the core of a person can't be changed. They can only be stopped."
Dumbledore's and Grindelwald's history sounds complex. However, Draco found himself less worried about theirs and more worried about his own. Himself and Potter are still stuck in 1942. Should they confide in those greater?
As they turn to the Slytherin's House, Draco hears mumbling from Potter. He rushes straight towards them.
That's odd.
One of his eyes is dirt brown and the other a familiar green? That bloody nitwit! Did he lose one of his contacts again?
"Pot-- Evans?" Draco asks, almost forgetting about Dumbledore's existence.
Potter shakes his head and grasps his shoulders, shaking Draco violently. Then he aggressively hisses at him, like a madman. He flails his arms up and down, hissing more. What the bloody hell is wrong with him? Wait... He heard this kind of hissing before.
Draco's eyes widen, "Evans--"
Potter continues on his rambling. Spilling out "s" sounds while pointing his right eye.
"Evans! I--
Potter growls, like Draco has personally offended him by talking. He yells out more hisses acting hysterical.
Professor Dumbledore is right there! Potter needs to get a grip! But what could Draco do to get him to shut up?
Draco grabs Potter's shoulders and yells, "HARRY!!!"
Finally quiet.
Potter stands there shocked beyond all belief. Did he really think Draco Malfoy was incapable of saying his name? A small grin slips from Potter's cheeks, and he whispers out a hesitant grateful hiss.
"Harry," Draco lowly says again to ensure he has Potter's full attention. "You aren't speaking English."
His happiness disappears. Potter blinks, then blinks again, and one more time.
Draco lets go of Potter, and they blankly stare into each other's eyes.
Harry opens his mouth once more, but winces, placing his hand over his scar.
"Malfoy."
Draco didn't want to turn around. Not with the full force of dark malice creeping behind him. In a moment of pure curiosity he turns back to find Riddle. His smile didn't reach his eyes. The Head Boy fixed collar and slowly approaches them.
Potter quickly hides behind him. Behind him! What the bloody hell is that supposed to accomplish?!
"Riddle," Draco responds casually, or his attempt to be casual.
Riddle crosses his arm and taps his finger. "You may return to the Common Room now."
It isn't a suggestion.
Did Riddle hear Potter speak Parseltongue? Dear Merlin, Draco hopes not. However, it's best not to be on Riddles's bad side... Draco turns and bows to Dumbledore, and takes a step forward. Both Potter's hands grab his cheeks forcing him to gaze into his eyes.
Wait, why are both his eyes green now?!
Immense Dark power drips from Riddle. His magic cracks the wall, growing large and large, "Evans..."
Dumbledore clears his throat, and Riddle's rage seems to settle, or at the very least, tames. The professor walks over to Potter, and he lets go of Draco's face.
"How curious..." Professor Dumbledore stares into Potter's eyes, lifting up his chin. "Before... Could it be you were speaking--"
"Excuse me," Riddle inserts himself between Dumbledore and Potter. "Professor Dumbledore, I regrettably must admit, one of my tutoring methods went awry. However I'll personally see to it that Evans is back to normal. I can't bear to know I have harmed him. Come Evans, I'll bring you to the Hospital Wing."
Potter shakes his head and grabs Draco's arm. He looks at Professor Dumbledore and adamantly points at Draco's face.
Dumbledore looks between Draco and Riddle. He strokes his beard up and down. "I rather if young McClu-- ah, young Malfoy brought Evans to the Hospital Wing. They are much closer."
Draco could have sworn Riddle's face became anything but pleased. However, when he faces him Riddle presents his usual perfect smile. "Of course, sir. I understand completely..."
"Now, off you go. The both of you," Dumbledore shoos them away.
Potter nods gleefully, letting go of Draco, and runs ahead.
Face first into a pillar.
"Bloody hell!"
Draco rushing over. Potter whimpers lightly, rubbing his head. "Just how bad is your stupid eyesight?!" Draco yanks Potter to his feet. "Come on!"
Potter holds Draco's hand, biting his lips to stop more hissing nonsense. They traverse down the halls, but unbeknownst to them, Riddle's dark eyes don't stop, even as they turn the corner.
Finally at the Hospital Wing, Draco leads Potter to one of the beds and tries explaining to the marton the situation. Due to Potter's complete negligence, he changed his eyes color and damaged his vocal cords. Draco rather Potter pretends to be mute, than reveal to more people his Parseltongue.
The witch doctor looks perplexed, and leaves to find a potion that could reverse any effects.
Potter waits till she's out of sight, before he hands stretch out, moving up and down, waving Draco closer. Then Potter inhales for his attempt at communication. He flattens out both his palms. He touches the tip of his finger together, making an angle with his hands. He raises his hands over his head, it looks like he is underneath an angle pointing upwards.
Draco squints, "Hat? Arrow? House? Wait... Home? You found a way back!"
Potter nods enthusiastically giving Draco two thumbs up. Then he slowly hisses articulating every word, as if it would help. He makes two "o"s in each hand, then combines his two hands to make an overlapping circle. He raises his arm up to the ceiling, then points to the ground. He gestures another circle on the ground hissing even more.
This game of charades is harder than it looks.
When Potter realizes Draco is no longer reacting, his eyes twitch and he flails his arms up into a circle again. This time hissing slower like Draco is a bloody idiot.
"Enough!"
Draco shakes his head. "This is all I hear 'See, seee, see, isk isk isk!' And no, you speaking slower doesn't help with anything! Try another way you stupid frog eyed git!"
Potter pouts, like an insolent child. Even Judy behaved much better than he did. He rolls his eyes and holds out his hand, then with his other hand he clenches his thumb and index finger together. Pretending to write something. Draco grabs the quill and ink from the witch doctor's desk and hands it to Potter. The almost-blind Potter feels for a flat surface, but when he doesn't find anything. He slides down to the floor to write.
Draco crosses his arms, tapping his finger impatiently. After about five minutes, Potter nods and lifts the paper up waving it around. Draco sighs and snatches the parchment from his fingertip. Potter's penmanship is horrid, and the lines slant downwards like he was writing on a slope, but worst of all...
"Oh, of course! I can read strange squiggly scripture!" Draco balls up the paper and tosses it aside. "Think of something else will you?!"
Potter bites his lip and taps on his chin. Suddenly, his green eyes widen and he snaps his fingers. He dips the bottom of the feather back in ink and brings it back to the paper. A grin spreads across Potter's face and he hands his drawing to Draco.
On the top of the paper is a circle overlapping another circle. Potter filled in one. Then in the middle is a poorly drawn stick figure inside another circle, raising up his hand. None of these circles were good, was Potter even trying?
Draco squints at the picture. Perhaps Hogwarts should invest in several Art programs. "This is no time for your lack luster drawing skills!!"
Potter releases a hissy screams. He bangs his head against the side of the bed frame.
"Dear Merlin!" The witch doctor comes back to see Potter, on the ground, gripping at the bed post, banging his head. She grabs Potter and plops him back on the bed. "None of that young lad! Here, this potion should help you."
She uncaps the vial and Potter slowly shallows the liquid. Draco winces watching Potter be force-fed another potion.
Wait...
Earlier, Potter also drank Grindelwald's new potion: True Loyalty.
"A potion of perfect submission. A potion of unyielding obedience to the first person they lay eyes on."
Before when Draco saw Potter earlier he was only wearing one contact with his eyes.
Could it be?
"Well, done," the marton pats Potter's head. "Now all you need is rest. Is there anything I can get you?"
Potter opens his mouth, but stops the hisses from slipping. He bites his lips and looks down disheartened.
"Wait, he would like this," Draco hands the marton Potter's picture.
"Oh! Oh... Uh... He wants the balls and a ring?" She lifts the picture up in the air to get a better angle. Potter groan-hisses behind them.
"No, I'm sure it's a treacle tart," Draco adds.
She turns back to the pathetic patient and sighs, "Well, suppose as a special treat. I'll be back. Can you watch him?"
"Of course," Draco smiles.
When her footsteps slowly disappear, Draco taps Potter's legs, so he can have room to sit on the bed with him.
"Potter," he whispers. "You're stuck in Parseltongue... When you lost one of your colored eye disks, who was the first person you made eye contact with?"
Potter's face turns bright, bright red, and he bites his lips slowly. He shakes his head almost like he forgot Draco is still here.
Okay... Based on that reaction, it must be Riddle.
"True Loyalty," Draco mutters. Judging by Potter's eyes widening, he heard him. "An incomplete potion enchantment. But even so, this means you are in perfect submission, unyielding obedience to..."
Draco shallows, "To Riddle."
Potter grabs his arm and shakes his head. He covers his left eye and points to his scar. Then he covers his right eye and points to Draco.
That's right.
The moment Potter grabs his head forcing him to gaze into his eyes. That means he is half loyal to Riddle and half loyal to himself?
Draco stares into Potter's emerald green eyes. "Potter. Speak normally."
Potter inhales and exhales.
"Hhaasssss. Issshhh ssss," He says in Parseltongue, smiling brightly.
Draco shakes his head, "It didn't work... Damn it, we should have tried it before the marton had you drink that blasted potion."
Looks like Potter would have to wait until the potion wears off on its own. He must have come to the same conclusion because Potter flops back in the pillow blankly staring at the ceiling.
The smell of the dessert hits before they could even see the marton walking back with a freshly baked treacle tart. She smiles brightly and Draco leaps off from the bed. She gives a quick glare at Draco before giving Potter his slice. His eyes brighten as he humbly accepts his favorite treat. Potter munches on the dessert, leaving disgusting crumbs all over the sheets. Draco couldn't remember the last time he actually saw Potter eat anything.
"It's late dear. You ought to be going back now," the marton turns to Draco. He agrees.
Potter pulls him back and gives him a slice of the tart before waving goodbye.
Draco wraps the tart in a napkin and leaves from the Hospital Wing down to the last hallways. Upon returning to the Slytherin's House Dormitory, Riddle waits with his arms crossed as he lends against the door frame. Draco quickly bows out of pure habit. Riddle hums in approval, but not at all pleased. He sniffs the air and hones in on the tart.
"How is Evans?" Riddle asks, eyeing him up and down.
Why was Riddle suddenly against him? Did something happen between Potter and Riddle while he was out?
Draco shrugs, "So far, no progress. The marton couldn't help him, so he'll be spending the night in the Hospital Wing."
"I see..." Riddle traces over his lips, like he was reminiscing over something. "Has he said anything of interest?"
"Nothing," Draco coughs, "Erm, well. Nothing, I could understand." He adds.
A grin spreads across Riddle's face, as if he had gained the upper hand. "I suppose you couldn't understand," he chuckles to himself, snatching the tart from Draco's fingertips. Riddle unwraps the pastry and takes a bite. His eyes remain calm, but narrow. As if he is challenging Draco to confront him. Draco trembles lightly, but gazes remains towards the ground.
Riddle wipes the crumbs with the napkin, "Wash up and get rest. You had a long day. We are all glad you have returned safely."
Unsure how to respond, Draco returns to the default. He bows, "Yes, my Lord."
After a delicate and intense night routine, Draco rests his freshly cleaned, aching body on the plush pillows. Though the dormitory's bed isn't the most exquisite mattress, it is much better than Grindelwald's dungeons. Draco casts spells around his bedframe for added privacy. He stares into the darkness, and his eyes produce puffs of color to counteract the nothingness. Draco waits until sleep can fall upon him. He wonders if the Muggles made it back home. Made it to the comfort of their own beds, wrapped in the arms of their loved ones. A part of him would like to believe they did, and soon he'll be next. After the potion wears off, Potter will bring them home. Images of his mother and father cloud his mind as Draco drifts to sleep.
Hours pass while Draco's subconsciousness relinquishes control back over to his waking mind. He lets out a hearty yawn and stretches from the bed.
"Tempus," Draco whispers.
It's early, the sun barely even made it to the crack of dawn. Draco looks around to see his dorm mates still asleep. He quietly steps out of bed and to Potter's trunk. Of course he would put stupid privacy spells around his personal items, but Draco did have knowledge when it came to reversal jinxes. After mumbling the spell, the lid pops open, and Draco rummages through Potter's belongings. He pulls out his glasses. Regrettably, Potter will be useless against Riddle's Legilimency again, but at least he'll be able to see.
Draco shoves the glasses into his pocket and locks up Potter's items. He ought to be thankful for Draco's most generous contributions. Draco tip toes out of the door and into the Common Room. It's best if he gives it to Potter before anyone else wakes up.
"Malfoy," An intimidating voice calls out his name.
Draco turns to find Riddle sitting in the grand chair with silver lining and green cushions. Nagini wraps around his neck like a scarf.
"Up quite early, aren't you? I assume you need all the rest you can get," Riddle hums scratching Nagini's head. She hisses in delight. "Out for a stroll? Where?"
"I... The Hospital Wing," Draco mutters slightly.
Riddle smiles brightly, "Really now?" He closes his book and places it to the side of the coffee table at his foot. "I shall company you."
"There is no need for--"
"As the Head Boy it's for the best. Both by checking on precious Evans and guiding you after your subsequent disappearance. Now, wouldn't you agree?" His question only has one answer.
"I suppose..." Draco's voice falters.
There is definitely something off about Riddle. He is, dare Draco should say, giddy. Like a child after getting dessert.
"Best be on our way." The Head Boy places Nagini back in the chair and leaves the room first.
The way to the Wing had Draco on edge. Riddle, Tom Riddle, hums a tune the entire way there. Draco shivered thinking about the Dark Lord singing show tunes while he planned to take over the Wizarding World. Did Riddle not feel how unsettled Draco was, or did he simply not care? It was beneficial for Draco to take advantage of the power Riddle present over the Slytherins. So he would try to stay on his good side, for as long as he is stuck here.
Arriving Riddle knocks on the door and charms the marton with his dazzling smile. In return, she laughs matching Riddle's energy. They strike up several pleasantries and small talk.
Draco peers inside to the line of beds. Far down to the right he sees Potter tossing and turning in his sleep. His blankets are skewed from his body, it also looks like he is having trouble breathing.
"Excuse me," Draco politely pushes his way past Riddle and the marton, heading towards Potter's bed.
The closer he gets, the clear Potter's distress shows. Beads of sweat surround his forehead and he trembles. Potter gasps out something in Parseltongue.
He's having a nightmare.
Whatever Potter was dreaming, it's intense. Draco ought to help the Boy Who Lived, but with his Slytherin methods.
He pulls out his wand, casting Lumos into Potter's closed eyes, then with his other hand, he yanks Potter's pillow from his head.
"HEY!! WAKE UP YOU NITWIT!!!"
Potter yells and springs away from him, but he falls off the bedframe, face first on the ground. Draco snorts while his rival flails, getting tangled by the sheet.
"Twat," Draco smirks.
Realizing his voice, Potter's head snaps in his direction and prepares an onslaught of various hisses and growls. One could only guess what colorful language Potter would use. But Draco quickly covers Potter's stupid mouth before he realize can only still speak gibberish.
"Yeah, yeah," Draco scoffs. "No time for your hissy fit. Here." He shoves Potter's glasses in front of his face.
Potter rolls his eyes and snatches glasses from his palm. Draco could see the moment when Potter's pupils readjusts to the surroundings. He looks at Draco and shakes his head disappointingly.
What the bloody hell is that look for? Potter is already on the ground, so why doesn't he thank him?
"You--"
"Young man!" The marton scolds, "That is no way to treat a patient!" She slowly lifts Potter back into bed and examines him for any injuries. "Glasses? Hmm. I suppose when your eyes changed color it affected your sight as well."
Riddle's eyes narrow and he strides towards them, but he stops to fiddle with something on the ground. Riddle pauses for a moment before shoving his hand into his pocket. He nudges Draco aside and steps closer to the bed.
Potter blushes, turning his back to both of them. He could have been more subtle, but no, Potter settled for being blatantly rude.
Draco coughs into his hand, slightly looking at Riddle's reaction. Riddle's perfect composer shifts ever so slightly. His mouth opens, but the marton speaks instead.
"I'm sorry boys, but I'll have to ask you both to leave. I need to give Evans a check up and classes will be starting soon," she says while ushering the two out.
If Riddle felt disdain, he didn't show it. When the reaches the door, Riddle turns his head, "Honestly, I was worried about Evans, about what I caused unto him. However, knowing that he's in experienced, capable hands brings me relief. Your abilities are greatly appreciated. Thank you for all you here for Hogwarts."
The marton, absolutely smitten, grins, "Oh Riddle, it isn't your fault, mishaps happen sometimes. And I'll have you know, such kind words make this old lady's day! Feel free to visit anytime."
Riddle smiles and walks away. Draco trails behind him silently. After Potter's rude dismissal, it's odd that Riddle is still in a good mood. A daunting shiver travels up Draco's spine. Today is going to be a long day.
After the rather awful weekend, classes resume as normal. Well, "normal" is a very loose term, mainly because Draco McClure is revealed to be Abraxas Malfoy's long lost twin, thus making him Draco Malfoy. Several curious Slytherins, even students from other houses, asked Draco how he made the discovery, or how it felt to have Abraxas as a brother. He tried to keep the conversation brief, but the other knights decided to announce the story to the masses.
Lovely.
Half of the day passes, and Draco drags his feet to Professor Slughorn's Potions Class. Before he could go in, a hand yanks him into a corner. Potter shakes his head and puts his index finger over his lips. The universal hush sign.
"What are you doing, you visually impaired, scar-head, idiotic bloke?! You should have stayed in the Hospital Wing until the 'you-know-what' wears off."
Potter hisses softly, but gesturing madly. From what Draco could gather, the marton sees him fit to attend classes.
"Alright, alright," Draco pulls back. "Enough with your pathetic dance moves. I'll ask Professor Slughorn if we could be partners for the brewing."
Potter nods enthusiastically and gives Draco a pat of the head.
The bloody twat.
Their other classmates walk down the rows to fill in the desks. Everyone sits in front of their cauldrons facing towards the front. Professor Slughorn writes in the black board a list of various ingredients used for making today's potion. Potter's bangs try to cover his eyes, but his glasses are in the way. He scatters to the far back of the classroom. He shoos Draco way to the Professor like he is some trained elf. Draco shallows his pride to approach Professor Slughorn.
"Excuse me, professor," Draco clears his throat.
Scribbles from the chalk stops and Slughorn turns his head. "Ah, young Malfoy, class is about to begin."
"This won't be long. P-- Evans got caught in a peculiar situation involving his eyes... So it would be wise if someone were to observe his condition in case any problems arise," Draco says politely.
"Oh young Malfoy. It is truly a kind and gracious gesture, for you to stand beside your fellow Slytherin is quite noble. But given your... Ordeal. I can't, in good conscience, subject you to any added stresses." Professor Slughorn gives Draco a sympathetic smile. "But not to worry boy." Professor Slughorn's eyes scan the room, "Ah! There you are young Evans!"
Potter's eyes widen, but he tries to look away. However, the potion's professor shakes his head.
"None of that. Young Evans to the front! Given your eyesight isn't the best, you'll perform better closer to the board."
The class chatter stops and everyone curiously stares past the glasses at Potter's new emerald green eyes. He flinches and he grabs at his bag. He slowly makes his way to the front of the room. Now this scenario was infuriatingly nostalgic. How everyone watches the "Chosen One" every move, Draco almost forgot how annoying it is.
Potter stops in front of Black to hand his towel back.
"With new eyes like that, I hope you didn't wash it," Black winks.
Turning a shade pinker, Potter stutters, but makes sure to keep his mouth shut. He makes his way to the front of the class and tries to find an open seat.
"Lestrange."
Lestrange perks up at the sound of Riddle's voice and smiles grandly, "Yes Riddle?"
"Partner up with the newest Malfoy today," Riddle gestures him to Draco's side.
"What?!" Lestrange yells.
Riddle frowns and crosses his arms, "Evans in a desperate situation where I can relief his frustrations..." It seems like Riddle slurs his words while he gazes into Potter's eyes. Potter's pink cheeks darken into a deep red, but the scowl doesn't leave his face.
"Off you go," Riddle shoos him away. Lestrange coughs out an insult and begrudgingly gathers his items. He shoves his bag over his shoulder and sits in an empty desk diagonally from Riddle. His eyes don't leave Potter's and Riddle's presence.
Riddle turns his attention to Potter. He smiles charmingly and pats the seat beside him. Potter bites his lips, and is he staring at Riddle's lips? After a moment, Potter realizes Draco is staring at him too, and he covers his mouth scampering to the seat.
Then Professor Slughorn begins the planned lesson. The potion is complex, but Draco follows along with relative ease. Draco's potion partner, Lestrange, would continuously gawks directly at them. Unlike the pathetic excuse for a Slytherin, Draco subtly takes occasional glances towards Potter and Riddle. Riddle rests his hand on Potter's shoulder and whispers into his ear. Potter madly blushes then turns his whole body, returning to his old raggy Advance Potion's textbook. Did he bring that book with him?
If Potter could speak normally, Draco would have forced him to explain everything. The Boy Who Lived is cautious, well, he was always cautious, but it is because of the True Loyal? Riddle seems more... Possessive?
What the bloody hell happened between them?
Riddle explains the ingredients to Potter, but he receives an eye roll in return. Potter ignores Riddle following closely to the dusty worn textbook and crushes the shells instead of breaking them.
Riddle's perfect demeanor fickles, but he raises his hand, "Professor Slughorn."
"Yes?" He replies, stopping mid-mix.
Potter gasps and shakes his head. In return, Riddle smirks, "It seems, instead of breaking the shells into eight segments, crushing it would provide greater yield and potency for the potion."
Professor Slughorn strokes his chin, "Interesting..."
He heads to the cabinet and pulls out two more shells, then he slams his mallet on the shells causing them to crumble into powder. He carefully transfers the powder to the cauldron and stirs counterclockwise. Immediately, the color changes from deep maroon into a semi clear blue liquid. Professor Slughorn pours the potion into a vial and places a seed on the table. Three drops fall onto the seed. Then it spouts becoming a seedling, then slowly morphing into a plant. The plant grows bigger and bigger until a small bub appears. The bud turned into a beautiful white flower, but as quickly as it came it wilted. However, the dead flower swivels turn another bud form. This time it bears fruit.
The classroom stares in awe.
"Riddle... How absolutely brilliant! One hundred points to Slytherin!" Slughorn exclaims. The Slytherins cheer and the rest of the students scoff in pure envy.
"Sir," Riddle voice commands the space.
All other voices simmer down. "Though your compliment is true, it's directed to the wrong person. See, it was Evans who enlightened us."
"Truly? Why Evans! I must say, I am quite impressed! I will have you join my club!" Professor Slughorn excitedly adds. He had the same reaction when Draco showed his expertise.
Potter shakes his head and loudly hisses. He points to Riddle and then back to himself. Potter quickly covers his mouth, but the Parseltongue already left his lips.
"Evans, that was..." Professor Slughorn gapes. "No... Th-that's impossible."
The rest of the class's reaction varied, some students looked confused, not understand the importance of the language Potter spoke. Others became terrified, and their eyes darted towards Riddle. Even the Slytherins are divided. Avery, Rosier, and Nott are shocked, but Black and Mulciber seems rather curious. Then there is Lestrange, who couldn't stop glaring at Potter. Finally, Abraxas didn't say anything, was he stunned? Who could blame any of them?
The new student Harrison Evans, the student Riddle personally decided to tutor, his boring dull eyes turned bright green eyes. Oh, and now he speaks Parseltongue!
So much for "laying low".
Riddle hums, "Indeed, your ears have not decieved you, Professor. Evans spoke Parseltongue. Unfortunately, his speech is limited to my Slytherin ancestor's tongue. The cause of this is unknown. Thus, it's imperative that I stay with him. After all, I am the only one who understands him."
Potter snaps back with a venomous hiss, turning back to his cauldron. Based on Draco's experience, he called Riddle something vulgar and vile. However, instead of being offended Riddle chuckles and leans over Potter's back.
"Why... Are you sure?"
Potter raises his eyebrows.
"That's an honour," Riddle says deepening his voice slightly. Potter bites his lips, but doesn't turn around.
"I'm honoured you believe we have grown so close for such informality, so who am I to refuse?" Riddle towers over Potter pressing his chest against his back, then Potter's face turns crimson. Almost like he was remembering something.
Riddle breathes into Potter's ear, "I accept, Harry."
Potter gasps and random ingredients fall into his cauldron.
"Sshhhistt."
Thanks to Potter, he spent the rest of the class cleaning up. What in the world was he thinking?! Why would he allow Riddle to call him by name? Is he an idiot? Oh, of bloody course he is!!
Draco's blood rate increases as he flicks his wands magically straightening out all the fallen ingredients. One item hovers in the air in an attempt to return to the cabinet. Draco groans. A Malfoy like him shouldn't be doing all the work, honestly, he shouldn't be doing any! Finally done he heads straight to the doors, but Lestrange catches his eyes. Lestrange falls quiet as the latter bites his right thumb drawing out blood.
"Harry?" He mumbles to himself, heading to the back. "Riddle calling someone by name? No, no... Impossible. He never called me... Evans stuck speaking Parseltongue? Oh, how so convenient. Riddle... My Lord... He's being tricked..."
Perhaps, Draco will leave him be. He stakes a step back and leaves through the other door. Draco sees a familiar messy dark hair wearing the Slytherin's robes rather sloppy. Without a second thought, Draco reaches for Potter's tie and yanks him backwards behind a pillar. Potter yelps and thrashes around until he realizes it's him and not Riddle.
"Sss! Shhh.. isk!" Potter sighs in relief.
"You utterly brainless buffoon stuck in the body of a pathetic wizard! Why the bloody hell would you tell Riddle to call you by name?!"
Potter's head shakes madly, and he goes into a defensive stance. He points to Draco, then grabs his mouth squishing his cheeks together.
"Stop that!!" Draco swats Potter's hand away by grabbing the both.
Is Potter trying to say it's his fault?! His false identity is called "Harrison Evans", so it would be reasonable if Riddle called him "Harrison", so where did he hear Potter's name?
Wait...
Draco grabs Potter's shoulders and yells, "HARRY!!!"
Or...
"Harry," Draco says again to ensure he has Potter's full attention. "You aren't speaking English."
...
Oh.
Potter grins at Draco's silence, crossing his arms. His face reads, "I told you so."
Boastful bastard.
Potter could smirk all he wants, there is no way Draco will ever admit he's wrong. Potter chuckles then puts his index finger on the corners of Draco's mouth. Then he moves both points upwards forcing a smile on his face.
"Enough--"
"Malfoy."
All Riddle did was simply call his name, so why did every muscle in Draco's body freeze?
No, he knows why...
Because way Riddle said his name was a contradiction. Sure, it sounded polite and normal, but somehow underneath his tone there was so much untamed rage and what feels like a stem of one thousand curses. How he filled one little word with several layers, Draco will never know. He lets go of Potter's wrists.
"I must express my gracious gratitude. After all you found Harry for me." Then he pushes Draco away, wrapping his arm around Potter's waist. "Come."
Before Potter could protest, Riddle drags him away towards their next class. Draco watches as his heart rate returns to a reasonable pace. From the start Draco knew it was in his best interest to appeal to the future Dark Lord, but now he seems to have made him his enemy. The worst part is it's all Potter's fault! He didn't deserve to be the first on Riddle's chopping block! They are so close to getting home!
A hand grips on Draco's shoulder.
"A-Abraxas?" He gasp.
His younger grandfather simply stares at him. His expression is stern, neutral, but the truth unreadable. "Looks like our Dark Lord is keen on Evans. Odd isn't it? However... That'll be troublesome for you won't it? After all..." Abraxas narrows his eyes, leaning towards Draco's ear.
"He found a way back home."
Draco's pupils widen and his lungs freeze. His throat suddenly became ash dry, "What did you say?"
Abraxas scoff, "Oh, we'll be late if we just stand here." He pivots aside and begins walking to Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
He stops and smirks backwards, "After class there's something I'd very much like to discuss with you... Draco Malfoy."
Draco clenches his chest. First, Riddle inserts himself in his and Potter's conversation, threatening his heart rate to burst with a single glance. Now, his own grandfather offers to deal the killing blow by stopping his pulse all together. He isn't excited to see what happens after class.
Professor Merrythought explains another defense technique, but Draco's mind is filled with his grandfather's proclamation. He knows that both himself and Potter aren't from here.
He knows.
How? Did Potter let it slip? But, if that's the case why stay so vague? Did he plan to use their knowledge to exploit the failing of the future? Perhaps Abraxas understands that the Malfoy Bloodline extends past time and is willing to help them return home? Can't this call be over faster?!
Draco groans, rubbing his eyes. When he opens them, he sees Riddle staring at him from the top of the Dueling platform. He smirks and his eyes narrow. For a split second Draco could see past his eyes towards something.
Cold.
Calculating.
Contempt.
Draco shift uncomfortably, Riddle wouldn't take his anger out on him during a class duel, would he?
"Well Professor, I haven't had a good spar in a while. Thus, I would be honour to have my opponent be--"
Potter jumps in front of Draco and runs straight to the arena.
"Evans?" Professor Merrythought gasps, "You are in no condition to duel! And quite frankly you may have difficulties if your opponent is Riddle."
Potter scoffs and he pulls out his wand. His real wand. What in the world is he thinking?!
Potter hisses at Riddle and they exchange a few words to each other in Parseltongue. Riddle cocks his head to the side and grins, "I have no complaints Professor Merrythought. Seems Harry yearns... To battle me."
She scratches her chin, still unsure about the situation. Eventually she sighs in defeat, "Wands at the ready." Potter and Riddle lift their wands up and slowly walk away from each other.
"Begin!"
It's Potter who strikes first with a Blasting charm. In his eyes is a familiar fire, one Draco is custom too. He saw it several times when they dueled.
Potter is no longer holding back.
Riddle deflects the blast with his posture remaining proper and elegant. Potter doesn't take it lightly shoot several more spells. Riddle clicks his tongue and dodges to the left. The future Dark Lord's spells are more powerful and controlled, but Potter has more experience and natural instinct at his disposal. The battle is evenly matched.
Draco watches in awe at the duel. Usually some of the riffraff students would sneak in their own sidebar during class, but not today. Every single person in the room is fully engaged with Potter and Riddle's battle. They exchange blow by blow, however neither gains any substantial upper ground.
Just then Potter hisses loudly and Riddle's wand flies out of his hand. No doubt, Potter used "Expelliarmus."
Riddle hisses in Parseltongue, and licks his lips.
Potter blushes and stumbles backwards.
Big mistake.
Riddle wandlessly yells out another spell and suddenly Potter's glasses are gone. The future Dark Lord playfully swings Potter's glasses around his finger. Using his opponent's weakness against him is quite fitting for the Heir of Slytherin. However, the ever Gryffindor doesn't back down. Potter snaps upwards throwing his robes at Riddle obstructing his view.
Then from behind, he slashes his wand in a zig zag motion and hisses out his spell. The spell strikes directly towards Riddle knocking him onto the floor. Potter's glasses fly up until the air and clunks on the ground.
Draco gasps, along with the others in the class.
He has never seen that spell before, did it cause Riddle to lose?
Potter huffs and huffs, and Accio his glasses. He puts it back on and quickly turns back, but Riddle's body doesn't move.
Cautiously Potter goes closer, and he pulls his robe off of Riddle.
He's pupils widen in horror.
Riddle's clothes tear up along with fabric from his uniform. He twitches from the gashes endlessly attacking him, he gasps and reaches out towards Potter's hand.
Potter hisses urgently and kneels beside him.
"Riddle?!" Professor Merrythought rushes to his aid. "Evans, stop the spell this instant!!" She yells.
Potter frantically waves his wand, yelling out hiss after hiss, but the onslaught of slices continues to etch into Riddle's body.
Blood drips down.
Notes:
Out of frustration and desperation Harry uses Sectumsempra on Riddle, but will the consequences will be dire?
There was a bit confusion about why Harry was stuck speaking Parseltongue, so I hope this chapter explained it better. Thanks for everyone's feedback! If there are any more confusion I'll try to explain it.
Next chapter will be Harry's guilt of harming Tom with their relationship's aftermath, and Draco confronts what his grandfather knows.
Chapter 10: With Nothing Left
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
True Loyalty.
A potion of perfect submission...
A potion of unyielding obedience...
To the first person they lay eyes on.
Of course, an unforeseeable mishap would lead Harry straight to Riddle. And of course, the pre Voldemort's order is..
"Speak, breathe, anything. Everything! Prove you are a Parselmouth!"
Now, every time he spoke, all words formed at the tip of Harry's tongue switches into a series of hissing. Even his writing isn't immune to Riddle's order. Parseltongue, Parselscript, why did Riddle have to say "Everything"? Harry is proving he is a Parselmouth alright.
All thanks to Riddle.
"Wands at the ready," Professor Merrythought announces.
Harry squeezes his wand, lifting it to his face. His back could feel Riddle's heat, slowly walking away.
Enough is enough.
Ever since he made it to 1942, he has done nothing but run and hide. He's a Gryffindor, is he not? If there is a problem, if there is danger. He will face it. All consequences can be damned. Harry couldn't hesitate any longer.
Dumbledore's words echo in his mind. "Be careful. Tom Riddle is a master at Legilimency. He is incapable of feeling love; he wasn't made for it. No matter what he says, no matter what he does. He cannot be trusted."
Tom Riddle.
The Dark Lord.
Voldemort.
They're one in the same.
Sadistic, manipulative, heartless, bastard. Nothing, but pure malice. Despite how Riddle's touches made Harry feel, he has to remember: There is no truth behind his actions.
It's all an act to further his goals.
It's a distraction, so now it's time for Harry to stay convicted to the truth. He didn't realize how much of the past he already changed, but if the damage was already done.
There's no point in holding back.
"Begin!"
Without hesitation, Harry casts a Blasting Charm. However, Riddle doesn't falter at all. He deflects Harry's spell, breaking his magic part causing sparks to fly around the room. His deflection was textbook, all with stunning perfect posture.
Harry growls, he'll break Riddle's mask and show everyone what he really is!
Blooding flows throughout his body and his heart plumps hard. Harry shoots out spell, after spell, after spell! The room bursts with an array of colors twirling from his magic. Riddle clicks his tongue, but he is definitely amused. He uses counter spells, deflection, or simply dodges all Harry's attacks.
Harry takes a moment to breathe.
Finally, Riddle goes on the offense. His power flies out from his wand, unlike Harry's array of colors, Riddle magic stays beautifully uniformed and precise. Raw force shakes the room, but Harry has more experience in dire battlefields. He pivots his body away from Riddle's attacks. They exchange blow after blow, but neither gains any substantial upper ground. Harry huffs and wipes off sweat from his forehead.
Riddle takes a breather too.
Surprising.
No, it's a chance.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry yells and Riddle's wand flings out of his hand.
That's it, the duel is over.
Riddle has lost.
Instead of anger, Riddle's lips curl into a devious smirk. Chills run down Harry's spine. Why is he so calm?
"Harry..." Riddle steps forward, "All this time you have been hiding from me in plain sight. Your raw power is truly magnificent." Riddle licks his lips, "I have never been more turned on..."
W-what?! Harry blushes and stumbles backwards.
Big mistake.
Suddenly, Harry's glasses snap off his face. His vision turns blurry, and he is disoriented.
Did Riddle just wandlessly Accio his glasses? What a bloody cheap shot!
The future Dark Lord playfully swings his glasses around his finger. He's taunting him. Harry squints, he can barely see Riddle's silhouette. How is he so powerful? So skilled?!
Even though Harry held his own in battle, he never completely had the upper hand. Now, his eyesight has been compromised. But... He battled a slithering snake blind before.
Mirroring his encounter with the Basilisk, Harry throws his robes up into the air and casts a spell so it would fly directly at Riddle, obstructing his view. Then from behind his robe, he exhales. There's no way Riddle can counter a spell no other has ever seen before. The spell he found in his Advance Potion's book. One created by the ever powerful Half Blood Prince for his enemies.
And Voldemort is an enemy against humanity.
Harry slashes his wand in a zig-zag motion, "Sectumsempra!"
The spell strikes Riddle knocking him onto the floor. Harry could hear two thuds, one Riddle and the other his glasses.
Harry huffs and huffs. He Accio his glasses back on.
It's quiet.
Too quiet.
Harry turns to Riddle's body. He's not moving.
What?
This has to be another one of Riddle's tricks. Cautiously, Harry steps closer, and pulls his robe off of Riddle. Gashes and blood rip through Riddle's clothes and into his skin.
Riddle gasps, "H-Harry..." He reaches out to Harry's hand.
Harry instantly slides on his knees, "Riddle?!"
"Riddle?!" Professor Merrythought rushes to his aid. "Evans, stop the spell this instant!!" She yells.
Frantically, Harry waves his wand all about. He chants various counter spells. Over and over again, but nothing working! Harry screams out every counter spell he has ever learned! But he can't stop the onslaught of slices etching into Riddle's body.
Blood drips down.
"Riddle!!" Harry yells.
The duel ends in a bloody nightmare.
Literally.
Despite all of Harry's efforts, he couldn't do anything. Riddle's injuries didn't worsen, but was rushed to the Hospital Wing.
"Evans!" A voice yells out his name with unadulterated anger.
It's Headmaster Dippet along with Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn.
Professor Slughorn shoves past every person until he stands face-to-face with Harry. "Explain yourself this instant!!! What spell did you use?!?!"
"Sir, it's a spell called 'Sectumsempra'! I didn't know what it did! I didn't mean to hurt him!! I don't know how--"
"It's a bloody insult to speak in Riddle's tongue after what you have done to him!" Professor Slughorn growls.
The Parseltongue...
"Wait sir, I--" Harry sticks his palms outwards. What could Harry say? What could he do?
"You--"
"Enough," Headmaster Dippet cuts in front of Professor Slughorn. Never before has Harry seen his eyes so distant, so cold.
"Evans. I reviewed my impressions of you, and quite honestly, it's all negative. It was Riddle who suggested you deserved the benefit of doubt. It was Riddle who thought you required leniency and hoped for potential in your growth. He offered to sacrifice his duties in order to help tutor you! Now, what did you do in return for his unyielding kindness? You mutilated his body. I can't imagine what you may be planning next. Could it be you want to steal his heritage like you stole Malfoy's documents?" Headmaster Dippet curses under his breath. "You will be facing the highest of consequences. But in due time... For I will not allow Hogwart's brightest student to be taken from us!"
Headmaster Dippet and Professor Slughorn give Harry one final Death glare and rush to the Hospital Wing. Professor Dumbledore pats Harry on the shoulder. "Evans, it's best if you return to your Common Room and wait for further questioning." Professor Dumbledore leaves him as well.
"Wait!" Harry can't communicate with the Professors! He can't say anything! His words are trapped between the concepts of that stupid potion! His frustrations paled in comparison to the suffering he caused to Riddle.
Professor Merrythought grips him by the shoulder and leads him to the Slytherin Common Room. As he walks down the halls as everyone watches him like a bloody murderer.
Harry might as well be...
Once there she gives him over final glare before locking him inside. He sits on the couch, his hands are numb, but feels ice cold. Before Harry was afraid of closing his eyes, because he would see a future where Voldemort reins over the world with destruction and chaos at his fingertips.
But now...
He can only see Riddle's blood and his hand reaching out to him.
What Harry did...
He's a monster.
Harry covers his head, his bloodstream is replaced with pure guilt, and it slowly eats him alive. He wanted to stop Voldemort's reign, but he never wanted to hurt Riddle...
Harry doesn't know how long he spent waiting there. It easily could have been hours or even minutes. His mind didn't cooperate with reality. Stuck spiraling at the moment Riddle calls out his name.
His blood dripping.
Suddenly the door snaps open. Instead of the professors, it's Lestrange? His glare darkens and shoots a blasting charm. Harry hits the wall.
"How dare you bring harm to Riddle?!?! You, a no name mudblood, comes out from nowhere and steals Riddle's, MY Riddle's attention! Whatever you have done to him stops now! His suffering is all your fault!!!" Lestrange casts another spell, but this time Harry reflects it.
"Lestrange, stop!" Harry shouts.
The spell rebounds to Lestrange knocking him back. He growls, "Ohhh! You think you are so special, don't you Evans? Speaking Parseltongue? I know it's some sort of trick!!! You are nothing! Once Riddle returns, once Riddle rises to power! I'll be the one standing by his side! Not you! Never come near Riddle again!! Matter of fact, I'll begin the slaughter of all the blood traitors and mudblood, starting with you!!!!!!" Lestrange lunges towards Harry.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry casts, and before Lestrange's wand could hit the ground. "Stupefy!" Instantly, Lestrange becomes limp.
Harry stares down at Lestrange. He is almost as insane as Bellatrix...
A flash of red comes into Harry's view. A stain embedded into the sleeve of his white shirt.
It's blood.
Riddle's blood.
Every second Harry spends here, Riddle is...
There must be a way to counter "Sectumsempra", there has to be!
He rushes to his bag and dumps out its contents, creating a mount of messing the middle of the Common Room. Items fling and scatter around him until he finds the Advance-Potion Making textbook. Harry frantically looks through the pages, reading all of the Half Blood Prince's annotations.
There has to be something.
Something that can heal Riddle!
Anything!!
The Half-Blood Prince is a genius so surely--
Harry's eyes widen and he rips out the page from the book. He lifts Lestrange's limp body with a levitating spell and He runs into the bedroom and he blasts open his trunk. Harry grabs the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. Then drops Lestrange on Harry's own bed. He takes off his robes and covers Lestrange underneath. Hopefully, it'll distract the professors if they come.
There's no time to waste.
The marton stands over Riddle's body chanting various spells. She stops in exhaustion, "I-I'm sorry, but this spell... This spell, it's out of my expertise."
"Don't stop. Riddle, the poor boy, he doesn't deserve this! He is a bright lad with a promising future. He cannot meet his end here..."
"Calm yourself," Dumbledore sternly orders. "Even though Riddle is experiencing excruciating pain, it's fortunate that the spell won't be fatal. What we need--"
Professor Slughorn pushes his way through, "What we need is to have Evans expelled!!! He falsified his documents and used life threatening spells on the only classmate who was willing to help him!!!"
"Enough! All of you!" Dumbledore halts, glaring at them all. "It's understandable that emotions are running quite high, but that doesn't excuse this behavior! Headmaster Dippet."
"Yes?" The headmaster responses.
"Quickly, take to your office, and gather more medical resources, even the ones locked away by Ancient bindings. Horace, you and the marton will go and gather ingredients for a potent healing potion! And I! ...I will monitor Riddle's condition."
Dumbledore's sudden shift in command brought ease to Headmaster Dippet. His tone is filled with certainty, so He agrees. Thus, all three of the professors leave the Hospital Wing.
Silence fills the room.
Professor Dumbledore steps closer to Riddle's pained existence. His eyes narrow downwards, but his expression is unreadable.
"Perhaps this will be beneficial to you, young Riddle. The core of a person cannot be changed..." he sighs.
Dumbledore turns towards the exit, "They can only be stopped." He twirls his wand and immediately the doors lock behind him.
The Hospital Wing's background of beds and wall paper fold with the fabric when Harry pulls off the Invisibility Cloak.
There's no way...
Even during the height of Professor Dumbledore's suspicions, there is no way he would leave Riddle on the verge of death, would he?
No, it couldn't be.
Perhaps Dumbledore left Riddle alone for privacy, or, to seek the effects of another spell. Could it be Dumbledore knew Harry was standing here? Harry shakes his head.
None of that is important right now!
Harry rushes to the bed. There Riddle's head is prompted and his shirt is removed, exposing his chest. The spell creates gruesome slashes opening and closing. Riddle flawless skin is now filled with purple blemishes and redden flesh. His blood would drip, but not get very far. Even Riddle's face couldn't remain perfect, not with all the pain. He grunts with his eyes shut.
This is Harry's fault...
Harry's hand trembles, but quickly pulls out his wand and the page he ripped from the textbook. On the page is a scratched out spell, one the Half Blood Prince was deliberating on keeping. However, Harry would take the risk.
If it means saving Riddle, he will do it.
Harry squints his eyes, trying to decipher the words behind the ink scratches. He could make out the words, and he could only pray it would work.
"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur!! Vulnera Sanentur!!! Vulnera Sanentur!!!!" He shouts over and over again.
Please work.
Please work.
Please work.
Please!
PLEASE!!!
Harry holds his breath, but nothing happens.
"No... Riddle..." Harry grabs Riddle's hand. Hoping, praying, begging!
Slowly the wounds from Riddle's skin slowly close. His purple bruises fade and return to its porcelain color. All the blood flows back into his body and Riddle breathing evens out. Harry traces over Riddle's bare chest to verify that all of his injuries are cured.
He collapses to the floor.
"Thank Merlin," he whispers out shakily. Harry covers his mouth as tears stay stagnant in his eyes.
He did it.
Riddle is safe.
Harry stays a few more seconds on the ground. Finally, he can sigh in relief. He stands up with all his worries melting off him. Riddle is now breathing normally, in hopefully a peaceful sleep. Harry pulls the covers over Riddle's sleeping figure. It's better if he leaves before he wakes. As Harry brings the blanket to Riddle's shoulders, a hand grabs his wrist.
Crap.
Harry jolts backwards, but Riddle tightens his grip.
"That curse..." Riddle mumbles weakly.
Guilt returns to Harry's veins.
"You had no control over it, did you?" Riddle coughs lightly, "It could have killed me."
Bull's eye.
"I didn't mean to! I never meant to hurt you! Riddle I'm so sor--"
Riddle tugs Harry closer, "The core of your wand is a phoenix's feather, isn't it?"
Harry's heart stops. There's no way. There's no way... How could Riddle even know that?
"Brother wands."
"I don't..." How could Harry respond to that?
"Because of that, I was spared," Riddle's eyes sharpen. "However, if death were to claim me as one of its victims. It would mean..."
That's right.
Voldemort is obsessed with immortality, so he can rule over the Wizarding World. Nothing is more important, nothing frightens him more than death. Riddle is the same. If death were to claim his as a victim, Riddle would do anything in his power to stop it.
"It would mean, I'll never see you again."
Stunned Harry's mouth drops, "What?"
Riddle's hand caresses Harry's cheek. He's touch is very, very gentle. "Harry, your eyes, your features, your touch, your being. You are someone I have never met before, and whom I never intend to forget. How you are so perfectly you."
What?
Harry never heard those words before. It's always "Harry you are a spitting image of your father" or "Harry you have your mother's eyes". He's always just a vessel for those who love or hated his parents before. Even without those comments Harry was "The Boy Know Lived" or "Chosen One". He could never be himself.
A hesitant exhale escapes Harry's lips, and he shakes his head. "Riddle, your hysterical, in shock or something. If you were in the right state of mind, you would be furious with me! After what I have done to you... I deserve it." Harry closes his eyes.
"Why," Riddle's thumb brushes over Harry's lips. "Why would I be angry with you? You, whose power is equal to mine. You, who also speak my ancestor's sacred tongue. You, who fancy me from the moment we met. The glances you steal. The way your cheeks flush when I come near. The pleasurable kiss. You yearn for me. I know it," Riddle's voice dreadfully low.
Harry holds Riddle's hand and moves downwards, "That's..."
"Oh, Harry. If you fear rejection, it won't come to pass. There is no question. You are mine."
"I-I," Harry bites his lips.
It almost sounds like Riddle is in love-- No, it can't be. He can't. Riddle is incapable of feeling love; he isn't made for it. No matter what he says, no matter what he does. He cannot be trusted.
"No. Riddle, you need to rest," Harry says sternly.
Riddle clicks his tongue, "By whose decree-- Agh!" He jolts and hisses in pain.
"Riddle?!" Harry cradles Riddle's head and leans it gently back on the pillow. "Don't make sudden movements."
"Why?"
"Because you'll make your condition worse, you idiot!"
"No, why do you hesitate? Why do you see me as nothing more, but a monster?" Riddle slumps back, his right hand covers his eyes.
Harry's mouth opens, but no words come out... Did he see him as a monster? Well, yes because Voldemort has killed countless for his selfish desires. He killed his mother and father robbing Harry of his childhood. He's mantra poisoned the minds of countless wizards and witches, spreading like wildfire. His followers are so devoted to his cause they'll do despicable actions in his name. Voldemort was Harry's core nightmares, but the bane of his existence. Voldemort is the enemy of humanity, and Harry hates him!
But...
Does he hate Riddle? Is it fair to judge him by actions he's never committed? Is Harry doing the exact same as others did it him? Transferring how he feels about Voldemort to Riddle? Judging him only through the lens of who he'll be in the future, and ignoring who he is right now? Tom Riddle is arrogant, conniving, flawless, and brilliant. Even the professors see the potential of his greatest. They are willing to defend him as he is now...
But is he destined to become Voldemort?
If that's his future...
Then it's not fair.
"Riddle..."
Riddle curiously looks up. Harry shallows, "That's spelled I used helped, but you are still in pain, aren't you?"
Riddle mouth opens, but nods instead.
"I think I know a way to help." Harry gently brushes away Riddle's bangs. Revealing his dark blue eyes.
Don't look into it.
Inhale, exhale.
Harry leans closer and presses their foreheads together. Pulsing familiar shockwaves returns between their skin. Riddle's surprise immediately turns to hums.
Good.
The Gryffindor peeks only to see Riddle's perfect features. However, a flash of pain is still presence on Riddle's face. Is there a better way to ease his pain?
Damn it. He could only think of one.
"Excuse me," Harry mumbles and his lips meet Riddle's. Kissing him once again.
Not even a second passed, Riddle's tongue brushes against Harry's lips. This time, he opens his mouth on his own. Riddle cups Harry's cheek and sucks on his tongue with long and slow intentions. His low groans left Harry yearning for more. Magic, power, passion? Whatever it is, seeps into Harry, and he could only hope Riddle is feeling the same. The pit of Harry's stomach twitches, like his soul is trying to leap out and intermingle with Riddle's. The sensations are intense, exhilarating, and simultaneously pleasurable and comfortable?
Harry's mind morphs into mush. His thoughts mull over the surge of sensations between them. Riddle grasps Harry's head, deepening the kiss. He needs to pull back before it gets too much. Harry steps away from the bedside, panting lightly. His finger stays on his tingling lips.
"I..." Harry trails off, staring at Riddle's lips and moving downwards to his surprisingly toned chest.
"Uh," He blushes. "I hoped that helped. Sorry. Sorry for everything."
He needs to leave.
Now.
"No," Riddle grabs Harry's hand. "There's no need for you to apologize. All you need to do, is stay. Stay with me."
Stay?
That's impossible. If he stays any longer he'll--
"I can't."
"Stay. Harry... Stay. Please..." Riddle pleads.
Aching guilt sinks Harry's heart to the pit of his stomach. When did Riddle ever say "please"?
He's begging?
Riddle, Tom Riddle is begging to be with him.
Just be with him.
Has anyone ever wanted him?
Yes, of course people have. Ron and Hermione have, they are his best friends! And there's Draco too! Of course, their relationship is more of a rivalry, but it's still very personal.
But, the way Riddle looks at him.
There are no expectations to be a hero, the chosen one, his father, his mother.
Riddle makes him feel like... Like it's okay.
It's okay if he is just plain and boring. Riddle's touch, his words make him feel like he's enough.
Sorry, Professor...
But for a little bit...
Can he just be Harry?
Harry grabs the fallen blanket, but instead of bringing the sheets to Riddle's shoulders, the blanket fans outwards. Harry lays beside Riddle underneath the covers. Their eyes meet, he can't help but to blush.
"I'll stay... Until you feel better."
Something inside Riddle snaps. "For each slash etched into my flesh, pleasure will be the equivalent exchange. That's fair, isn't it?"
Harry flushes bright red, but he is a man of his word. He nods his head. Riddle yanks open Harry's collar. He could hear a few buttons pop on the floor. He pins Harry down and long fingers trace over Harry's collar bone. His other hand squeezes Harry's waist.
"Beautiful..." Riddle whispers into his ears. "Harry your body is intricate, so undeniably mine."
Then Riddle buries his head in the crook of Harry's neck. Licking his exposed skin. Moist, soft lips press against his, then a strong pressure. Riddle sucks on Harry's neck, leaving his mark. Harry covers his gasp with his hands. Riddle chuckles lightly and grinds his knee to Harry's groin. Shamefully, a tent forms in Harry's trousers. Riddle mumbles a lubricant spell and hand slips past Harry's waistband. He rubs at Harry's penis.
"Our connection... It extends further than magic, power, language. So let's test our physical compatibility, shall we?" Riddle grins pulling out his erection, and slides downwards to Harry's arsehole.
No one has ever touched him there before!
"Nghhh!" Harry moans as a finger slips in.
His heart beats faster than the wing of a hummingbird. What's happening? Is this going a bit too fast? Exactly how much pain did Riddle experience? Exactly how much pleasure does he want in return? Why does it feel so good?
Riddle freezes and pulls his hand back. Harry whimpers at the loss of his touch.
"Harry..." he whispers his name gently. "You can tell me to stop."
He should.
He should scream and push Riddle away.
But...
Despite his better judgement, Harry clenches around Riddle's neck pulling him closer.
"No. Please keep going..." Harry slurs.
Riddle thoroughly obliges to Harry's request.
What happened next, left Harry and Riddle completely breathless. Their bodies tangled together and neither one of them felt more complete. They traveled through the depths of pleasure and desire.
It's sudden.
Potter's attack.
Then Riddle's agony.
All Draco could do is watch. Watch as Potter struggled to heal Riddle. Watch as the professors took them both away. Draco was a spectator while two lives were ruined before his very eyes.
His anxiety builds as the professors force the rest of the students to return to their regularly scheduled classes. It's a feeble attempt to gaunder a sense of ease; however, it didn't stop the rumors spreading through the corridors like wild fire.
No one spoke to Draco directly, so he could only gather bits and pieces of their gossip. All had one common root.
Harrison Evans.
Draco needs to find Potter. And quickly. Everything is escalating, what a mess. Draco groans scratching the back of his head. Potter knows the way home, so if there's a chance he could get to him--
"Draco," someone calls, cutting in front of him.
"Abraxas..."
"What happened to Riddle, it's--" he glares. "We have something to discuss, do we not?"
"Looks like our Dark Lord is keen on keeping Evans. However... That'll be troublesome for you won't it? After all..." Abraxas narrows his eyes, leaning towards Draco's ear.
"He found a way back home."
Draco's pupils widen and his lungs freeze. His throat suddenly became ash dry, "W-what did you say?"
Abraxas scoff, "Oh, we'll be late if we just stand here." He pivots aside and begins walking to Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He stops and smirks backwards, "After class there's something I'd very much like to discuss with you... Draco Malfoy."
Crap.
Draco completely forgot.
"Ah, yes," Draco coughs into his hand. "Well, shall we head to another location?"
Abraxas smiles, "Of course. I'll lead the way."
Abraxas shoves past Draco, and they journey to the far side of Hogwarts, oddly enough, to the Ravenclaws section.
Here, the cobblestone bricks are influenced by the dark blue hues. Abraxas' pace doesn't falter until he pauses in front of a painting. The image in the portrait giggles at the sight of the two Slytherin, but she bows her head and the painting melts, revealing a secret door. His grandfather opens the door to a very small balcony, hanging towards the bottom side of Hogwart's cliff.
"Not quite a view," Draco says, staring at the different color stones.
Abraxas ignores Draco's comment tilting his head, "Convenient, isn't it?"
"Convenient?"
He rolls his eyes. "Yes convenient. How Riddle is now in pain. How awfully lucky was your enrollment. How truly blessed you are when everyone found out you were a 'Malfoy'."
The way Abraxas said "Malfoy" made Draco's skin crawl. Almost as if he was saying he wasn't worthy of his own family's name.
"Best not to underestimate me, Draco. Between the two of us, I am the far more superior Malfoy. Not a pathetic, insolent, Blood traitor, like you." Abraxas growls.
Draco's eyes widen and his fist turns white, "What?!"
"Please. I know all about your conspiracy to destroy the Malfoy's legacy. From your arrival at Hogwarts, you knew you were a Malfoy, but refused to reveal your name. Now, why is that? Because you were waiting for Riddle's approval, waiting for the precise moment to take the Malfoy's inheritance, influence, and power."
"That's utter insanity!"
"Tch. If not for your own benefit, why did it take so long to reveal your name? A true Malfoy would present themselves from the beginning with the utmost dignity and pride. But you didn't. Because..." Abraxas circles around Draco.
"You don't belong here."
A piercing jab strikes Draco's abdomen. There's no way he could know that, so, "How do you--"
"That night, you two should have checked the washroom stalls before engaging in such a heated argument," Abraxas scoffs.
Abraxas retells the two events that lend him to his conclusion. One was after the Knights of Walpurgis meeting, he and Potter were screaming at each other. Abraxas was listening the entire time. "No! Why are you even listening to him? Why are you defending him? Draco, we don't belong here!" The other when Potter rushed into the Slytherin bedroom, thinking his grandfather was Draco. "Draco, thank Merlin you're back! Are you okay? Listen, I think I found a way back home! We have to wait until--"
Twice is enough to raise Abraxas' suspicions.
"Now, where you belong, I couldn't care less. As long as you go back and never return. Back to your pathetic 'father' in Azkaban, and back to disgusting, insolent, mudblood harlot who stole from the Malfoy family. After all, that's where your loyalties lie!"
Draco's own magic oozes out. He had enough of his grandfather's prosperous slander. Of course he's a Malfoy! He has done nothing to betray his family! His father and his mother are the pillars of his existence. Thus, to imply his loyalties are anywhere besides his family's name is a bloody insult!
"I am Draco Malfoy," he proclaims. "Always have been and always will be!"
"Oh really?" Abraxas scoffs, tossing a newspaper to the ground. The cover is a motion photograph of a White Stag running across... Grindelwald's lair.
The headline reads, "Powerful Wizard Foils the Dark Lord's Plans! Grindelwald's Army Forced to Regroup!! Aurors Saves Muggles!!!"
"The Press is quite efficient spreading news when there's a story they can sell, aren't they? Grindelwald's potential defeat? A powerful Patronus? Pathetic Muggle sympathy? With such headlines, no doubt they will sell thousands of copies." Abraxas scoff, "Even if they don't have all the details. The White Stag? It's Evans."
Draco opens his mouth to oppose.
"Don't bother denying it. I've seen it first hand. Honestly, I was impressed with his power to escape the Dark Lord, but he should have left you there to rot! Next time I'll be sure there are no errors!"
"Next time? What are you--"
Wait. Back then when Abraxas...
"I have noticed you have been lacking in supplies. Since there are no classes today, I have been given special permission from Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet for off campus purchases at Diagon Alley."
"...Are you offering to buy me supplies?"
"No," Abraxas rolls his eyes, "You are a Malfoy, are you not?" Draco nods, but stares blankly. His grandfather sighs, "So instead of using it for myself, I am offering it to you."
"I can go to Diagon Alley? By myself?" Gleefulness drips into Draco's speech.
"Yes, but it's only for today. You'll be using my name. That is until you formally announce your heritage," he scoffs.
With this he can get ingredients on the list faster and other items he has been missing. "I appreciate it, Abraxas," Draco bows.
"Oh... Think nothing of it."
Could it be? Also when Grindelwald said...
Grindelwald circles Draco, "I understand now... My vision might have deceived me. I suppose it was all too convenient that a student's leave of absence was so publicized. For you to go all on your own was too easy. You wanted my followers to find you. Isn't that right?"
"W-what?"
"You wanted to be captured by my underlings. You wanted to be taken here."
Draco pupils widen.
"You knew... You knew Grindelwald's followers were Diagon Alley. You knew they would kidnap me. You planned for my death."
"You can't waltz in and steal what is rightfully mine! Now you plan to destroy the new Dark Lord?!" Abraxas snaps back grabbing the root of his own hair. He exhales and regains his composer.
"You're weak. You're pathetic. You're a disgrace! A Pureblood saving those filthy muggles? A true Malfoy would never do such a thing. Your plans to destroy Malfoy's legacy with insolent stunts, won't get far. Blood traitor."
"Shut up!!!"
Draco lunges at Abraxas, almost pushing him over the edge. He squeezes his grandfather's neck. "I have and never will betray my family!!" Draco grits his teeth and tosses Abraxas aside.
Without looking back he leaves.
Both walls are filled with windows. Light from the outside made its way into the long, usual hallway. Harry walks on and on until he sees a single door. He doesn't remember a room like this at Hogwarts, but he is far from knowing all of the building's secrets. He grasps the door knob and opens the dark oak doors. Inside, the room is shaped like a hexagon, and on each side are more windows. However, here long, luscious, green curtains drape down to the floor. The room is clean, but barren, only a figure stands in the center of the room. The figure is wearing Hogwart's robes. Slowly, he turns around to reveal his face.
It's Riddle.
"Harry," he smiles.
Harry cocks his head to the side and walks towards him. But with every step the walls narrow. Suddenly, the entire room becomes compressed causing the window to burst into shards. All of the shards take aim at Riddle piercing into his flesh. He screams as the glass slices though his skin and blood splurts everywhere.
"Riddle!!" Harry yells, rushing to aid.
He shoots out spell after spell to deflect the attacks, but nothing works. Harry jumps, covering Riddle with his robes.
The room stops shrinking.
Harry looks around, the room is now about the same as the size of a closet. Harry removes his robe to reveal Riddle's bloody and sliced body curled into a ball.
"No, not again!"
Before Harry could reach out, he sits up. Harry could only see the back of Riddle's robes. However, something about his movements is off. Riddle's posture was always aiming for a perfect presentation, but now he's uneven... Riddle chuckles darkly while his neck leans to the side, then slowly raises up. His once robes turn into a ragged cloak. Instead of his perfect hair, his bare scalp comes into view, and his skin scaly-gray.
"N-no," Harry's pupils widen.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort hisses his name.
He pushes Harry down to the ground by his neck, "Ohh the Boy Who Lived has fallen..." He grins sticking out his deformed tongue.
"For me."
"NOOO!!" Harry screams.
Again the room shakes, but this time Harry shakes with it.
"Harry? Harry!" He hears a voice calling his name. "Harry, wake up!"
Harry's conscious jolts awake. He sees Riddle looking at him, his eyes are full of concern. Riddle hugs him tightly.
"It's alright. It's alright." Riddle soothes him by running his fingers through his hair and rubbing small circles on his back. "It was just a dream."
Harry's heart rate slowly returns back to normal. He wraps his arms around Riddle and snuggles into the warm embrace. His breath evens out. Harry would have blushed like a schoolgirl realizing they are stuck together, both completely naked, but the comfort is too great for him to care. He doesn't want to let go of Riddle.
"Riddle..." Harry mumbles nuzzling into his neck.
"Harry, listen to me. I will protect you." Riddle pulls back to face Harry. "Whoever... Whatever that horrid creature was. It won't lay a single finger on you."
His heart drops.
Riddle saw...
"Legilimency..."
Harry jumps out of the hospital bed and grabs his scattered clothes from the floor. "Riddle. What happened before. What we did. It's a mistake! Everything is a mistake!"
Harry blasts the locking spell on the door and dashes out. Running at full speed could hear a faint Riddle calling out his name.
Draco travels down the long corridors of Hogwarts. He thoughts conflicted over itself. Firstly, it was him, his very own grandfather, who sent him to be captured by Grindelwald's men. Who sent him to die.
He reaches into his pocket for a small object. It's the Echo's Bell. The artifact used to repeat the incantation "Harmonia Nectere Passus" to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. Afterwards the Death Eaters will swarm Hogwarts, and he'll have to kill Dumbledore. Draco curses and bites his thumb. It has to be done. His father is locked away in Azkaban and his mother is lowly ranked in the Dark Lord's service. Only he can prove their worth.
Abraxas's words fill his mind.
"You're weak. You're pathetic. You're a disgrace! A Pureblood saving those filthy muggles? A true Malfoy would never do such a thing. Your plans to destroy Malfoy's legacy with insolent stunts, won't get far. Blood traitor."
Back when he met Judy-- The Muggles. Did he befriend them? Was he a Blood traitor? Is he destroying the Malfoy's Legacy? No, no! He couldn't be! He upholds the Malfoy's Pureblood ideals, doesn't he?!
Draco screams out in frustration. All these conflicting feelings over Muggles and what their role is. What their role will become! Mudbloods are filthy aren't they? So why is his mind considering otherwise? Malfoy is the most well known and respected Pureblood name in the past, and in the future! If he is the weakest link in the Malfoy bloodline then he truly is a pathetic disgrace! What hope--
Oh.
Hope...
Draco inhales and exhales. Right now, all Draco can hope for is Potter. Hope he can bring them home. But both without his help. Riddle is injured and he needs to find Potter. He shakes away this thoughts and continues to the Slytherin's Common Room.
Draco freezes in his track.
Something is off.
Draco turns around to see nothing there. He takes a couple steps backwards and stares at a pillar. The pillar stretches upwards into the ceiling, but the base isn't odd. There is nothing there. However, a gut-feeling forces Draco to extend his hand. Reaching out, he feels a familiar fabric, as he's eyes only see the pillar.
"D-Draco," Potter barely whispers.
Looks like he's right.
"Why are you bloody hiding in the middle of the corridors-- Wait, I can understand you again!" Draco yanks off the Invisibility Cloak, "Quick, tell me how to get--"
Draco's words stay logged in this throat. Potter is curled up into a ball, but his hair is messier than usual. His clothes are disheveled and his buttons broken. His collar exposes his bare neck, riddled with bite marks and red hickies.
"Dear Merlin..." The words slip out. Potter's eyes snap towards him and he tries to hide everything Draco already seen. Who could've...
"Riddle."
Potter flinches at his name. There's no doubt about who left those marks. Wasn't Riddle completely injured bedridden in the Hospital Wing? How did this happen?
"Potter, did he--"
"No!" Potter shouts. He grabs Draco's robes. "Well, yes, we had sex-- But, he didn't force-- I wanted him to..." His voice cracks, and he lets Draco go. Potter curls his arms around his knees, hiding his head. "What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I-- Why did it-- Draco, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry..."
"Bloody idiot," Draco mumbles.
He grabs the Invisibility Cloak draping it above both of them. Then Draco did something he never thought he would do in a million years.
He hugs Potter.
Draco can't tell what Potter is thinking, but his expression is distressed, hurt, and confused. Perhaps, hugging his rival isn't the best idea, but right now, it's all Draco could do. After a quiet moment, Potter scoots closer.
Warm tears fall on Draco's chest.
Notes:
Draco is struggling about what it means to be a Malfoy and Harry is struggling about how he feels about Riddle. It's a good thing they have each other. Riddle is not going to be happy about that. But what do you think about their internal struggles?
Also because I combined too many chapters and scrapped one completely... I am a bit off on my weekly chapter updates. I think the next chapter will take a little longer. But don't worry this fic will be completed before 2024 is over! Guarantee!
Chapter 11: You Can't Hide
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Soft echoes roam throughout the halls. A few students walk down the corridor of Hogwarts unknowingly passing a curled together Draco and Potter, both hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak. This time Draco had the sense to place a Silencing Charm, so all of Potter's soft muffles are trapped in his arms. Eventually, the students' steps fade away, leaving hallways filled with silence.
A few moments pass for Potter's tears finally run dry. But still he doesn't let go of Draco's shirt. Draco awkwardly pets Potter's head, shifting his weight back and forth.
"Potter. Are you..."
'Are you alright?' Draco almost asks, but his bloody pride wouldn't allow him to outwardly express kindness. Much less to his sworn rival.
"...Are you done getting your mucky snot all over my robes?"
Potter produces a small chuckle. His green eyes, red by tears, finally glances towards him. "No, not yet," he pulls Draco's robes closer, and proceeds to rub his slimy face on his shirt.
"Ugh! Disgusting!" Draco jolts.
Potter chuckles again, scooting backwards, still careful to keep them both under the cloak. He rubs his eyes, drying off the last of his tears.
"Hey Draco."
"What?"
"Thanks."
Draco bites his lips. "...I'd rather hear how to get home than your words of gratitude." He fixes Potter's collar, ignoring all of the bites and reddened passion marks.
"So, how were you able to free yourself from the serpent's tongue?"
"Honestly?" Potter pauses, "I have no solid answer. Could be Grindelwald's experimental potion ran its course, or his order was finally fulfilled..."
Riddle's order? Draco shakes his head, "Pointless speculations. You said you knew the way home. Go on, out with it."
"The precious day where morning and night meet..." Potter mumbles. "When solar magic and lunar magic alter day and night. Its effect only lasts briefly, but underneath the direct shadows, it can provide wizards and witches with immense power all throughout time and space."
Draco eyes squint, "A solar eclipse?"
Potter nods.
"Wait," Draco uses one hand to grip the Invisibility Cloak and with the other he pats his robes, pulling out Potter's drawing. "This pathetic attempt was a solar eclipse? Why didn't you draw a crescent moon, an addition sign, then the sun? In fact, you could have spelled an image of the moon over the sun! But no, instead of something logical you decided to create an abomination!"
Potter stares at Draco with a sombre smile, "How about you try drawing without vision."
"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco rolls his eyes. "Well, when is the solar eclipse?"
"I...I don't exactly know."
"What?" Draco glares at Potter. "For all we know, the overcast could be far across the wizarding world, years from now!"
"No, the way Grindelwald spoke. It has to be close. We just need to figure out when." Potter scoots closer and pats Draco's head. "I'll use the Invisibility Cloak to get more information."
Draco swats Potter's hand away. "Invisibility Cloak? Why the secrecy?"
Potter fiddles with the helms of the cloak. If he lifts it up more they might be seen. "After what I've done... No doubt, I'll be expelled."
"Expelled? How utterly preposterous," He dismisses. "Assuming Riddle is well, to return to their good side is simple. Once you and Riddle kiss and make up, everything will be dandy."
Potter flinches.
Crap.
"Uh, Potter, I, I didn't mean--"
"It's okay." Potter's eyes don't meet his. "He can use Legilimency against me now. So, it's best if Harrison Evans stays completely out of sight." He grasps the top of the cloak, signaling to stand. Draco follows his movements and both raise from the floor. Before Potter could open the Cloak, Draco pulls him back.
"Potter, Abraxas knows we aren't from here. Not from another timeline, but how we are trying to get home."
Potter's eyes widen, "How?"
Draco explains to him all the moments Potter slipped whilst in the presence of his grandfather. "And then he tried to..." He trails off.
"To?" Potter tilts his head to the side.
"No, it's nothing." Draco shoots Potter away, "Just hurry and get what we need. Better not leave me behind or you'll face my wrath."
"Wouldn't want that," Potter smiles. He pulls out the Marauder's map, "See you soon, Draco."
Draco steps from underneath the cloth, finally, getting his personal space back. On his second blink, Potter disappeared. He could be standing right in front of him, but it'll be impossible for Draco to know. He pivots his foot around leading down the hall.
Blasted.
Draco couldn't do it.
He couldn't tell Potter, that his own grandfather tried to have him killed. Nothing means more to the Malfoy name than upholding their honor and Pureblood traditions. However, Draco is now seen as the enemy. He opposed everything the Malfoy's stand for. An image of Judy appears in his mind, when he rescued the others. Was his grandfather correct? Is he destroying their legacy? Draco doesn't know the answer, he does know this isn't a topic involving Potter. It's purely a family matter. A Pureblood family matter. He is a--
"Malfoy."
A familiar commanding voice overrides Draco's body with dread. Dread with the conversation that will follow. Draco braces himself and turns face to face with Riddle. Riddle, who is out of breath, disheveled, with his robes draped over his shoulder covering his bare chest. He's far from his usual pristine perfection.
"Riddle," Draco says quietly. The last time Draco saw him, he was covered in gashes and blood. "Should... Should you be up?"
Riddle ignores his question stepping closer and closer. He surveys every one of Draco's details. He hons in a specific damp spot on Draco's shirt.
Immediately, his magic spikes forth. The air grows dense. Dark aura emits from Riddle's core causing the hair on Draco's arms to stand and his bones to shake. Draco knows in a battle he'll be no match for the future Dark Lord, but his feet won't move. Riddle's eyes narrow at the defiance. He towers over Draco with an eerily calm, but threatening expression.
"Where. Is. He."
It isn't a question.
It's a threat.
Saliva turns to dust in Draco's throat, "I--"
"Riddle?" A professor calls out from behind, it sounds like--
Riddle clicks his teeth. Draco doesn't miss the piercing gaze he gives as he "tumbles" down. Draco extends his arms to catch Riddle's weight.
"Riddle!" Instantly, Professor Slughorn and the matron rush to he's side. Slughorn keeps Riddle upright, "Riddle, my boy! Are you alright?"
The matron frowns, "Albus should have been monitoring you! How on earth did you get here?!"
"...Regrettably ma'am, I can't provide a tangible answer. What fortune Malfoy was here when I started to feel faint," Riddle shakes his head, then inhales sharply. "Ah, I must apologize for my appearance. For you all to see the Head Boy in such a pathetic state..."
"Nonsense!" Slughorn exclaims. "We are worried about your well-being!"
"Quickly Horace, the potion!" He hands the potion to the matron, who she takes off Riddle's robes and examines his chest. "My word... Your wounds have been healed! But how..." She circles around Riddle. "Ah, I have spoken too soon. There are several scratches on your shoulder."
Those scars aren't like the blood etching of an invisible knife Draco saw before. No, the scratches on his back don't pierce too far in his skin, and there are five red line marks. It's almost like fingernails.
Draco's face pales.
Were those marks from Potter--
Riddle hisses, pivoting his body to the side, giving Draco a harsh glare. His gaze shifts back towards the professor, with a small cough. "I preferred if those marks stayed where they are. As proof of... All I have experienced."
"Young Riddle, you don't need such a reminder," The matron disapproves.
"I insist," He replies.
"How noble..." Slughorn's eyes filled with glassy tears.
"Even so," the matron steps forward. "It's best we return to Hospital Wing." She warps her arm around Riddle's shoulder and supports his back.
Slughorn sighs in relief, "Thank Merlin, you are alright. For Evans to do such a thing... It's nothing else than despicable. Not to worry my boy. I'll be sure to have him face the harshest punishment."
Draco's pupils widen. Potter is right about the professor's personal vendetta against him.
"That won't be necessary sir," Riddle shakes his head, leaning against the matron.
"But he--"
"Harry's power exceeded all our expectations, perhaps even his own. I would request you take that into consideration. I'd very much like to speak with him again."
Slughorn rubs his eyes, "Not sure if it's quite that simple. But I'll see what I can do. For your dedication to your fellow Slytherins, well done young Malfoy. Fifty points to Slytherin! Return to the Common Room, and ease the rest of your house."
The three pick up the pace and leave Draco to his devices. How Riddle is able to sway others to understand his view, is nothing less but amazing. Albeit, equally terrifying.
"Ugh, what a mess," Draco groans.
Light of the sun retreated into the horizon, evening arrives. Riddle returns to the Common Room, escorted by Slughorn, he was swarmed by the Slytherins all expressing their concerns and relief, especially the Knights. Black pours some tea and Lestrange clings to him. Abraxas makes sure Riddle is comfortable by bringing Nagini to him. Draco made sure to keep his distance from the masses.
Outside the Slytherin door, hushed voices argue with each other. One sounds like Headmaster Dippet and the other Dumbledore. The door opens and everyone could hear the ends of Dippet's reprimanding. However, both their dispositions change as they enter the room. Dippet rushes to Riddle expressing the same amount of relief as the rest.
Dumbledore clears his throat, "Has anyone seen or know Young Evans whereabouts?"
Draco promptly shuts his mouth. The room fills with murmurs and people shaking their heads. Riddle couldn't stop his gaze from shifting to him. However, Lestrange steps forward with a specific glint in his eyes.
"I encountered him briefly... It was horrible," Lestrange announces dramatically. "As I returned to Common Room to gather my supplies, there I saw Evans. He stood with a mad look in his eyes, then began yelling utter nonsense! His Parseltongue was a ruse! I politely asked him to stop mocking Riddle, who is the only true heir of Slytherin. Then in a fit of rage Evans attacked me and fled the scene!"
"My word!" Slughorn exclaims.
The surrounding Slytherins imitate Slughorn's reaction. If Draco was none the wiser, maybe he too would ignore the blatant holes in Lestrange's story. He stares at the other two professors, gaging at their reactions. Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows rise ever so slightly. Almost as if he doubted the validity of Lestrange's accusations. To be fair, he was never one to trust a Slytherin. On the other hand, Dippet's aura seeps down and dark. His hands tremble in a controlled fury.
"I've been too lenient on Evans. After his fraud I should have been more cautious. Then with his attack, instead of sending him to reflect on his actions, I should have kept him under constant surveillance, and taken his wand. Henceforth, Evans will be pursued by Hogwart's administration. If anyone finds his whereabouts report to the professors immediately." He gives a sorrowful gaze to Draco specifically, then shifts to Riddle, "Not to worry my boy. Justice will ensue."
Riddle shakes his head, his expression perfectly unreadable. "With all due respect, Headmaster, I have already provided Professor Slughorn with my 'justices'. And to claim Harry speaks falsely when I understood his Parseltongue perfectly, is distasteful, Lestrange." Lestrange flinches when Riddle says his name. He continues, "I shall do my due diligence as Head Boy. Perhaps I'll be able to find Harry roaming the halls."
He bows and heads to the door, as if a normal evening of patrolling the halls. Immediately, Headmaster Dippet and Professor Slughorn tail behind him, leaving Dumbledore to turn his gaze back to the Slytherins. He strokes his beard up and down, "That'll be all."
Everyone prepares to leave, but Dumbledore stands in front of Draco's path, "Ah, young Malfoy."
Draco clicks his teeth, he really didn't want to talk to the old coot. "I must apologize sir, but--"
"You are closest to Evans," he says sternly. "Don't be wary young man, I have but one question." Dumbledore's eyes peer into his soul. It isn't Legilimency, Draco's Occlumency would flare up, Dumbledore is simply staring at him. "Has he told you anything?"
"He..." Draco pauses. "Evans was filled with remorse after his attack on Riddle. He... He wanted to stay out of Riddle's sight."
"He did now? How very interesting..." Dumbledore scratches his chin "Well, I bid you a good night." Then he exits the Slytherin's premises.
The room once filled with commotion is now eerily quiet. What exactly was interesting about his comment?
"Better say hidden, Potter," Draco mumbles underneath his breath.
Hour passes, and Riddle returns to the dormitory, without Potter. There's absolutely no sign of him anywhere. Even the belongings in his trunk have been emptied. Exactly when did he manage that?
The next day brought about the same absence. Murmurs started from the Slytherin's room and slowly spread throughout all the Houses.
"Evans disappears after his attack on Riddle."
Draco hears the words coward, pathetic, monster, and other derogatory terms thrown around to describe the absent Gryffindor. No doubt Potter also heard it all, wherever he might be.
Draco cautiously tries to continue his life as a normal student. As he enters the Transfiguration class with Professor Dumbledore front and center. The students shuffle to their seats waiting for further instructions.
Professor Dumbledore clears his throat, "Good morning students, there has been a development I ought to bring to your attention." The class simmers down, listening to the old man rather boringly.
"Young Evans' immediate expulsion has been sought to."
What?
Draco's voice didn't leave his throat, his throat is too dry. Realizing his expression he quickly covers his mouth.
However, the announcement caused a stir in the rest of his classmates, that no one cared about his reaction. Lestrange's expression is filled with the utmost glee. His feet even swing up and down from in his seat. Next to him is Black who seems rather saddened by the news. Before Draco could gage Riddle's reaction, Dumbledore's eyes meet his, somehow he was telling him to calm himself. Then came slight...
Smugness?
"Professor," Riddle's voice drowns out the rest of the chaos. He approaches Dumbledore with a clear scowl on his face. He ushers him to the corner of the room, "I do recall requesting to speak with Harry before any consequences were made."
"Oh, did you now?" Dumbledore scoffs, and Riddle's perfect smile falters.
The crack in his perfection sent a shiver down Draco's spine. Either Dumbledore didn't notice or didn't care. He continues, "Young Riddle. Regrettably, I had failed you by leaving you alone in the Hospital Wing. Thus, to truly atone for my grave mistake, I took care of your gruesome attacker. Take comfort in knowing..." His hand falls on Riddle's shoulder.
"You'll never see Harrison Evans ever again."
Riddle's eye twitches. His hand moves over his wand, but Dumbledore lightly shoos Riddle back to view of the class.
"Settle down, and turn your book to page 795," he dismisses Riddle.
The class's murmurs reduce into silence, with Riddle returning to his seat. Draco didn't miss the absolute glee on Professor Dumbledore's face. What he said yesterday, did it affect Dumbledore's actions? Potter had the Invisibility Cloak, didn't he? He wouldn't have gotten caught.
Draco groans dropping the textbook into the desk and flipping through the pages. A small indentation causes a gap in his book to extend upwards. Draco squints, opening to the gap. He finds a folded piece of paper. He grabs the note into his palm, and subtly rests his head on his wrist.
Professor Dumbledore drones on and on about utter nonsense. Draco surveys the room, and everyone's full attention is on the diagram on the board. He takes the opportunity to slip out the note, and is greeted by familiar messy handwriting.
Oh my dearest Draco,
I hope to find you well. This is the only way I can bravely express myself is by letter. If you will, I wish to speak with you, my shining sun, whether it be at noon or in the pale moonlight. Wherever you so choose, I will be there.
XOXO,
Your admirer from the shadows.
Draco rolls his eyes.
Clever.
Disgusting, but clever.
Potter better find something substantial. He had all night and half the morning for research. By Dumbledore's announcement that "Evans" has been expelled convinced everyone he had left Hogwarts. Which will allow Potter to roam freely. Draco hates to admit it, but Dumbledore's actions were useful. But left the nagging question: Why did the old coot lie--
"What do we have here?" Riddle whispers, leaning down to Draco's desk. His arms are crossed, emitting his pleasant smile.
"Riddle," Draco turns the next page to cover Potter's note.
Riddle frowns, "None of that." He stands, catching everyone's attention. "Pardon me Professor, but I seem to have forgotten my herbal potions. A medication I must intake in the incoming hour. I might be excused?"
Dumbledore huffs lightly, glancing from his lesson plan, he had an hour left of material to go through. "I suppose so."
"Malfoy, care to join me?"
"But of course," Abraxas leaps at the opportunity.
Riddle shakes his head, "I was speaking to the other Malfoy. Draco."
"I..." Draco's eyes dart around the room. Abraxas gives him the same look he gave him yesterday when he said he was a disgrace. His expression mounted with more anger, was it because Riddle had called him by name? Draco has no means of escape.
"Now."
Draco's pulse spikes up as he rises from his seat. He quickly scrambles with his belongings and makes his way toward the doors. Riddle lightly brushes past him, unwilling to follow behind someone else. Together they travel through the ever shifting stairway.
Crap.
What Riddle wants, what his plans are, it's all planned perfectly. Perfectly unpredictable. Draco couldn't work it if he was an important piece, or merely a pawn. He had valor to execute his ideas, but an uncanny ability for anything pertaining to Potter.
"...eclipse."
Draco freezes, "Pardon?"
Riddle stops in his tracks, slightly annoyed. "As I stated before." He says louder, "It's fruitless to resist. Harry will find nothing about the upcoming solar eclipse."
"How--"
Riddle scoffs, pulling out a wrinkled paper from his robes, "A solar eclipse. See, both the solar and lunar magic will bring us back. We just have to wait for the next one."
Exasperated, Draco steps backwards.
Impossible.
It's impossible.
"Rare. I thought you Malfoys were more sure of yourselves. Perhaps this will enlighten you," Riddle holds the paper between his two fingers and it flips over towards Draco's view.
It's a crumpled note with horrid penmanship, squiggly, slanted lines, written in--
"My apologies this is far beyond your comprehension, isn't it?" He smirks.
Parselscript.
No way. Back in the Hospital Wing...
Potter nods and lifts the paper up waving it around. Draco sighs and snatches the parchment from his fingertip. Potter's penmanship is horrid, and the lines slant downwards like he was writing on a slope, but worst of all...
"Oh, of course! I can read strange squiggly scripture!" Draco balls up the paper and tosses it aside.
Then...
Riddle's eyes narrow and he strides towards them, but he stops to fiddle with something on the ground. Riddle pauses for a moment before shoving his hand into his pocket.
The idiotic parchment Draco callously tossed aside, turns into Riddle's trump card. Oh, how he'd like to hex the man who said "One man's trash is another man's treasure."
Riddle holds note up into the light. "I admit, I briefly considered Dumbledore's outlandish claims. For him to strip Harry from my grasp would have dire consequences." His voice lowers, but a pleasant smile returns to his face. "However, you've proven me wrong. Have a bit of pride. It's a rare feat." He fiddles with the note.
"The importance of this upcoming eclipse eludes me," Riddle takes out his wand, waving it about. A red and gold spine Archibald's astronomy book appears in his hand. "I find myself intrigued enough to discover its full shadows totality and exact time. The day is quickly approaching. Are you intrigued as well, Malfoy?" He gestures the book closer.
A date when the solar eclipse is.
The day that can finally bring them home.
Draco reaches for the book.
"Ah, ah." The book blinks past them into the air.
"What?!" Draco raises his voice, quickly correcting himself. However, Riddle doesn't seem enraged.
"Not to worry, it simply returned to my sanctuary," Riddle's eyes darken, "I desire Harry to return to me as well."
Sweat forms on Draco's forehead, "Unfortunately I don't know where he is."
"I suppose not. After all, 'Wherever you so choose, he will be there.'"
Potter's note.
"Awestruck, are you?l I'd recognize Harry's handwriting anywhere," Riddle hums lightly. "As of now, there won't be any information pertaining to the next solar eclipse unless it's through me. Thus, when Harry seeks you..." He glares at Draco, eyeing him up and down. "You are to bring him to the Astronomy Tower after classes have ended."
He squeezes Draco's shoulder, crushing his bones. "Don't disappoint me, Malfoy," Riddle threatens in his ear. He steps back, leaving Draco alone in the corridors.
Bloody hell.
Noon arrives at its punctual hour by virtue of the ever constant sun. Absolutely splendid. Draco groans hightailing toward the seventh-floor corridor. He doesn't know how long it'll take for Potter to reach him, but he has to know he is alone by now. Draco taps his foot then walks past a room. He stops and retraces his steps, walking past the room again and again. While imagining his father's study in the Malfoy Manor. The wall of wooden bookshelves and his fathers satin chair by the fireplace. Draco opens his eyes and enters the Room of Requirements.
It's a perfect replica.
Draco slides his hand along the desk and steps over the expensive animal skin rug on the ground. He waves his wand to start a small fire in the fireplace. Above the mantle is a painting of his father, mother, and himself.
This is it.
After Potter retrieves the day from Riddle, he'll finally be able to go back home. But, everything won't return to normal. He is the pure blood heir of the Malfoy family, Slytherin, prefect, and brilliant in all his ways. After Draco completes his mission, completes the Dark Lord's bidding, killing Albus Dumbledore. His father will be exonerated from prison. Then and only then will a new era of the Malfoy family's legacy of greatness be cemented into history. All thanks to him.
Knots twist in the pit of Draco's stomach as he thought of if he failed. What would happen to his father? His mother? Not to mention what would happen to Draco himself... If Potter knew he was a Death Eater, if he knew what his plans were, would he still help him get home?
"Where is this?"
Draco's wand snaps into his hand and he casts a Blasting Charm. Immediately, a shield forms block his attack.
"It's me!" Potter shouts, pulling the cloak off his shoulders.
"Bloody hell, Potter," Draco curses underneath his breath.
"I thought you saw me."
Draco rolls his eyes, "Hilarious."
He sighs looking back at his father's chair. "This is my father's study." He traces his finger along the intercate wood engravings.
"Oh..." Potter shifts awkwardly, then faces towards the ground. "I'm sorry. I haven't found anything about the solar eclipse yet. Its information is hard to come by, almost as if it's missing."
"Not surprising given how thorough he is. No doubt he has taken precautions in obtaining every single little detail," Draco scoffs sitting on another chair across the room. He couldn't bring himself to sit in his father's seat.
"What? Who?" Potter follows him to the desk.
"Riddle."
When he said his name, red hues entered and quickly left, leaving Potter's face pale. Draco's eyes flash with slight concern, but he continues, "Riddle knows we are searching for the next eclipse, thanks to your Parselscript slip up in the Hospital Wing."
"You mean he-- My slip up? You callously tossed the note," Potter crosses his arms.
Damn it.
Potter might have a point.
Draco clears his throat, "Sod off, Riddle said the eclipse is coming fast. If we miss it now, who knows when we'll be able to return! So all you have to do is meet him after hours in the Astronomy Tower."
"Meet him?" Potter's hands shake.
"I-I can't..."
Draco clicks his tongue, from the desk he towers over Potter. "What do you mean 'you can't'? Don't you understand? This might be our only chance to get back home."
"I do understand, alright? But I can't--"
"For the love of Merlin, Potter! You don't have to do much! Aren't you a Gryffindor? All you have to do is talk to him--"
"I CAN'T!!!"
Potter's magic spirals outwards causing the fireplace to flare upwards. Draco dodges as several expensive trinkets from the mantle explode into little shards flying everywhere. He yells a counter spell, forcing Potter to use his protection charm. Draco's spell bounces off and hits the wall. Good. At least now Potter is back in control of his magic--
Draco's pupils widen.
His spell bounced off Potter and hit his family portrait. His father and mother are being consumed by embers, but stop at their faces. However, the image of Draco...
Scorched.
Burnt.
A black mark seared into the canvas.
Draco absently walks closer reaching out to the portrait. The flames started with him and slowly spread to his family.
It's him isn't it?
He is the reason--
"Reparo!" Potter shouts.
All of the trinkets from the mantle snap back together and sit perfectly in their spots. The burnt portions of the painting slowly uncurl reverting back to its pristine colorful state. The rooms return to the way Draco remembers it. His face is back next to his father and mother, with the plaque reading "The Malfoy family".
The room goes quiet, only the sound of the fireplace fills the air. Potter shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I know how much this room means to you. And how much you want to be in the real one. But... the way I feel about Riddle-- The way I'm supposed to feel about him. To see him again. It's just-- I just--" Potter's voice cracks.
"I just can't."
Draco pauses then stands in front of the fireplace, and sits. Potter cautiously approaches and sits beside him. Together they watch the flames burn the firewood. In this quiet moment, they let their thoughts simply exist.
"His sanctuary..." Draco mumbles.
"Sanctuary?"
"There was a red and gold spine Archibald's astronomy book with all the answers. The time, date, and location. When I tried to reach for it, it vanished to his--"
Emerald green eyes fill Draco's vision and two hands squeeze his shoulders, shaking him back and forth.
"It's his room!" Potter screams in his face.
"Wha--"
"Before, Riddle referred to his room as his sanctuary! His solitude! No one is allowed to enter. Classes will begin soon, I can easily grab it."
Draco slaps away Potter's hands and rubs at his now aching shoulders. "Oh, ho! Such a brilliant plan, if you have forgotten about Nagini."
Potter blinks twice, then bites his lips.
Looks like the bloody git really did forget about Riddle's right hand snake.
Potter shakes his head and his green eyes glow with determination, "I can avoid her, and even if I don't. It's a risk I'm willing to take. Didn't I say before? I promise I'll get us back home."
Draco groans and ruffles through his platinum blonde hair. "Alright fine. I suppose getting the information now instead of waiting until evening sounds much more efficient."
"There's the Draco I know and love."
"Bloody git."
Potter softly chuckles, "Though... I think you should keep your distance from Riddle."
Draco scoffs, "Should I shadow Dumblor-dolt, the natural Riddle repellent?"
He snorts in response, "Never thought of it that way." Potter stands, dusting off his pants.
"Be careful."
"Tch. I believe that statement applies more to you than to me."
Potter wraps the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders, leaving him a floating head. He smiles and puts the cloth over his head. Draco listens to the sound of Potter's footsteps, the door opening, then closing shut.
...
It's about time he leaves as well. Draco hoists himself off the floor and glances around his father's study once more. Perhaps soon he will be able to see the room in person.
Draco leaves.
After Draco's venture with Potter, and a quick nutritious meal, he heads to his next class: Potions. He takes a seat near the Slytherins, and Lestrange immediately sits beside Riddle. The rest of the class trickles in, and Professor Slughorn waves his wand. White chalk springs upwards and draws several herbs and shells on the chalkboard.
"Good afternoon, I know the events of yesterday have been rather unorthodox, but I hope you have all prepared for today's brewing exam."
A groan travels through the room.
"You'll be making this," he lifts a vile. "A clear, colorless, orderless. That forces those who consume it to only speak the truth. Veritaserum. However, your potions wouldn't have any effect like this one." He swirls the clear liquid in the round glass bottle. "Because it takes one lunar cycle to fully cultivate. Since this is an exam, you may leave after you have finished your potion. Please begin."
Several students frantically gather the ingredients and boil their cauldrons. Everyone is focused on their potion. Not more than fifteen minutes pass, Draco stirs his pot once counter clockwise and the liquid turns bright red. It's supposed to be clear! He sighs pouting more water to dilute his mixture. He hears the sound of the chair scrape against the floor.
"Riddle? Is there a problem? Do you require assistance to the Hospital Wing?" Professor Slughorn is full of concern.
"Not at all sir," the Head Boy places his potion on the desk. "I finished."
Slughorn laughs, "Of course, of course. I expected nothing less from the finest student at Hogwarts. Take this opportunity for a well deserved rest before your next class."
Riddle's fingers tap his chin, "Sounds like a wonderful suggestion. Good day sir." He bows, leaving through the exit.
No, no, no, no. Potter still might be in Riddle's room, if he finds him there--
Draco didn't want to finish the thought. He grabs his glass vile and fills it up with water. Veritaserum and water are indistinguishable in appearance and smell. He adds more ingredients to his cauldron to mute the scent and change its color. After the boiling simmers, Draco springs from his seat and drops his vile on Slughorn's desk.
"Good day, sir!" He dismissively bows and rushes out.
Where did Riddle go? There's no way he could have made it back to the dormitory. Draco runs down the corridors until he spots Riddle standing in front of the Slytherin's door, hand on the door handle.
"Riddle," Draco calls out.
"Malfoy," Riddle says dryly. "Well, well, I underestimated your potion ability. I trust you fulfilled my request."
"I have, and..." Come on, he had to conjure something to stop Riddle from entering through the door.
"I question your so-call 'relationship'."
A scowl spreads across his face. "Harry confides in you, doesn't he?"
Draco wills himself not to take a step backwards. He channels all of his Gryffindor, ah, stupidity in one vein and chuckles, "Indeed. I am closer to him than you are."
Riddle flinches.
His dark blue eyes judges him from top to bottom. "The rest of this discussion would better suit a more private location. If you would gladly oblige. I know just the place where there'll be no witnesses."
Draco shallows. Did he have to phrase it such a way? Draco is going to regret this, isn't he?
He glances back towards the Slytherin's door, before following behind Riddle. Riddle pace quickens till he reaches a small room on the far from the professor's offices. As he flicks his wand to open the hatchet. He stands aside allowing Draco to step first into the new room. The room is small filled with several bookcases clogging up the potential space, and there are several dusty pots with dead plants.
"Confringo!" Riddle blasts him into the back wall.
"Colloportus. Muffliato." The door lock shut and ensuring any of Draco's yells won't be heard.
Draco quickly grabs his wand and casts several protection charms, but Riddle's too fast. He hisses out another spell causing Draco to drop on his knees.
"Malfoy, let it be known. I thought highly of you at your arrival. Your knowledge, your skills, your beliefs were all extremely favorable. I ought to make you one of my highest orders of Knights." Riddle leans downward, "However, I will not allow Harry to choose the likes of you." He raises his wand with killing intent.
This time Draco manages to dodge. Draco rolls back, hitting his head on the table's leg. This is insane! Riddle is obsessed with Potter!
"Well, done Malfoy. You have reached the level of a pest," Riddle scoffs. "The bond which we possess, you couldn't begin to comprehend. His power, his Parseltongue, his body, belongs to me."
A gush of water shoots into Draco's face, some of which fills his throat. Draco coughs out liquid, "He's avoiding you because he's terrified."
"Terrified? Harry yearns for me. He renders plaint by my sweet nothings. He moans in pleasure by my simple touches. His lovely tears glisten from my gaze. His fingernails etch into my flesh as I thrust deeper inside of him. It's futile to believe he can passionately drain me of my semen then disappear in terror."
Draco cheeks flush red. He really didn't need the details.
"I will protect him, pleasure him, possess him. Destroy any of those who stand in our way. Starting with the vile creature he truly terrifies."
Riddle mutters a spell Draco hasn't heard before. The water from Draco's skins evaporates filling the room with smokey haze, with small amounts of static electricity pulsing though. The smoke morphes into a creature, no, a figure.
With waxy scaly flesh...
Bone-white cracked skin...
Slit blood red eyes...
Draco's pulse raises, and his eyes are blown open, as the vapors takes form of--
"Lord Voldemort," he whispers.
Everything freezes.
Riddle grabs Draco by the collar, halting his air flow.
"What did you say?"
Notes:
Sorry for the late update, just need some time to refocus, but it's back! I would say this story is Draco's story filled with an unhealthy amount of Tomarry.
Next chapter Harry goes back into Riddle's room and discovers new information.
Also what do you think will happen with Draco?
Chapter 12: Again, to Know the Truth
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry dusts off his pants, and his eyes linger onto Draco. The way the Slytherin looked at his family portrait.
The way he reached the burning parchment.
His anguish.
Confined in another timeline, far from any comfort. The only family member he has seems to uphold distain for his existence. Harry could never fully understand what he's going through, to live as a Malfoy.
Even so...
Harry couldn't find the courage to confront Riddle face to face, only to fall deeper in the Dark Lord's grasp.
He's a Gryffindor, right? But... Here he is not. Is it alright for him to admit he's scared?
Harry opens his mouth, bit mites back his words. Honestly what else could he say? He stares at Draco, "Be careful."
Of course, Draco scoffs in return, "Tch. I believe that statement applies more to you than to me."
Harry wraps the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders, and gives him a quiet smile. He covers the rest and leaves the Room of Requirement.
Now, alone in a corridor, he waits.
Once classes begin, the Common Room, Riddle's room, will be completely empty. Then Harry can easily get the book Draco spoke of. A red and gold spine Archibald's Astronomy book. He pulls the Marauder's Map on his lap, watching Draco's name walk far from the Room of Requirement. He searches for Riddle's name, ghosting over the marks on his neck.
He's foolish, an utter idiot. It's a mistake. Everything is a mistake. What he did with Riddle, what he did with his future parent's murder-- Harry clenches his heart, curling his fist into a ball. The longer he stays here, the more pain he'll just bring to himself, and to Draco...
There's no need to bring anyone else down with him.
Eventually, Riddle's name heads towards Potions class, along with the rest of his pre-Death Eaters. Harry moves his finger across the parchment and to the empty Slytherin's room.
The time to act is now.
He springs from his hiding spot to tread carefully down the hallways. He whispers the Slytherin's new house word, allowing the door to open. The Common Room is completely empty.
Wonderful.
Now, for the hard part.
Harry tip toes around all the green exquisite furniture only stopping in front of Riddle's daunting bedroom door. The last time he was inside they... His finger brushes over his lips. The memory merged with their time in the Hospital Wing. How Riddle knew exactly where to touch and--
"Alohomora!" He shouts, shaking his head.
The door doesn't unlock.
Did Riddle use counter-curse on the doors to stop anyone from entering? Harry paces back and front underneath his cloak. How is he supposed to get in?
He bites his lips and pulls the Marauder's Map. Maybe he could find one of the professors and have them open the Head Boy's room? No, it'll expose him to everyone... Situations have finally settled after the rumors he's been expelled. Harry blankly stares at Riddle's door.
What if...
"Alohomora," he whispers.
Wards shake back and forth, snapping with a popped sound.
The door opens.
Riddle did say: "You, who also speak my ancestor's sacred tongue."
Riddle's pride as the True Heir of Slytherin outweighs the other wards?
"Stay. Harry... Stay. Please..."
A vision of an onslaught of slices etching into Riddle's body morphes into white skin, and the dripping blood becomes red eyes-- No, no! Harry shakes his head.
Focus.
He's inside.
Get the book.
Harry enters Riddle's room he winds-up the Cloak and wraps it around his waist. Riddle's room isn't as neat and organized as Harry remembered, albeit it was far cleaner than his room would ever be, but Riddle's belongings aren't put away.
On Riddle's bed, the pillows propped up with neat piles of paper next to them. His blankets are folded aside to make room for more open books on the left side of the bed. On his desk, several quills are broken and discarded, and a small cauldron is in the middle. Then straight forward his wardrobe and trunk, wide open.
Guess he'll start with Riddle's desk.
"Potions, Wizarding History, Dark Art," Harry mumbles, scanning all the books. None of which are astronomy books. He sighs turning his attention to Riddle's bed. There's a red and gold spine book face down. Harry rushes over to the bed to pick up the open book.
That must be it!
Eagerly, he flips over the book, reading its contents.
"...the location to ensure deeper amounts of pleasure can be found by simulation to the prostate--"
Harry shuts the book, flipping to the cover: "Discreet Tips and Tricks to Greater Homosexual Coitus". Harry places the book back exactly how he found it. He bites his lips.
Don't think about it.
His eyeline moves towards the dresser, there's a pile of books stacked one on top of the other. Harry points out his finger, this time reading out every spine. He starts from the bottom upwards, until he finds "Archibald's Planet Alignment and Constellations", all with red and gold colors.
Alright, this time it's it.
He reaches out to grab the book, only to have a tail whip downwards.
Nagini!
Draco slaps away Potter's hands and rubs at his now aching shoulders. "Oh, ho! Such a brilliant plan, if you have forgotten about Nagini."
...He rather Draco does not hear about this.
Harry peers up from the top of the books to see her comfortably wrapped around herself, napping on the book pile. If he grabs the book now, the sudden movement will surely wake her up. He extends his hand, so his wand can slip into his right palm.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Nagini's sleeping body limps up into the air, all the while Harry tries to position her onto Riddle's pillow. She hisses slightly and whips her tail again knocking down one of the books on Riddle's bed. Harry throws his Cloak of Invisibility to catch the book before it hits the ground.
His heart stops.
After an eternity of dead silence. Harry gently places her down, then the serpent coils back into a tight ball and cuddles into Riddle's pillow.
Thank Merlin.
He needs to be more careful.
Without further ado, Harry places Silencing Charm over the room. He exhales, and finally he can move with ease. He wobbles back to the dress and grabs the stupid bloody astronomy book. He flips through the pages until he sees information about the Solar Eclipse.
Harry grins, following along with finger while reading.
"Fantastic. Now to get Draco," He hums to himself. He places the book back on the pile and looks around only to see nothing.
Fantastic. He sighs.
When Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak to muffle the noise, it must have wrapped over the fallen book. Harry sighs and squats down search for the cloth. Harry's palm brushes past the soft fabric, though he could only see the wooden floor. He smiles and carefully pulls the cloak up over his shoulders. The fallen book reveals itself.
A book he's seen before. Rather, a book he destroyed before.
Riddle's diary.
The vessel Voldemort used to bewitch Ginny, draining her life force, and controlling her mind. Back when Harry impaled the dairy with the basilisk's fang, it emitted dark power and intense energy, but now... He feels nothing. It's an ordinary book. If he opens Riddle's diary now, will it be blank or filled with his thoughts and secrets?
Part of Harry says no. He should put it back and grab Draco. They have everything they need.
But...
Another part of him begs to know. Right now, Riddle's diary might contain his true intentions for world domination, and maybe how to stop him.
Despite his better judgement, Harry sits at the foot of Riddle's bed and opens the first page.
XX/XX/XXXX-- Gone are the days in that wretched Muggle orphanage, where all the Muggles deem my divine powers as "disturbing". I am far beyond them, I always was. No normal person could possess which I have, not even Albus Dumbledore, the one who claimed, himself, as sole discoverer my wizardry. No, it always had been innately inside of me.
Entering Hogwarts was the next testament to my rise from the depths of shadows towards something greater. The first few years they treated me as a lesser being. Deeming my existence as nothing more, but a pathetic Mudblood. All who jeered at me will soon regret their ignorance as I rule above them, higher than all Purebloods. No longer will I be tethered to that blasted Muggle who abandoned mother to die after he discovered of her wonderful heritage. As part of the Gaunts bloodline, the true Heir of Slytherin, "Tom Marvolo Riddle" is less a befitting name. Perhaps something more grandeur shall be in use.
I am Lord Voldemort.
Harry's blood runs cold.
Those words in Riddle's handwriting... Dumbledore was right he couldn't be trusted. Although, did Riddle not know his mother was the one controlling his father with endless supplies of love potions? Forcing him to impregnate her to ensure he'll never leave her?
Harry shakes his head and skims through several more pages. Riddle wrote spells of the Dark Arts, various potions usages, plans for future meetings, even different theories and myths for immortality. Various locations of Hogwarts in an effort to find the Chamber of Secrets. He also circles his note reminding him to ask Professor Slughorn about a term called "horcrux".
The next few pages Riddle writes about people, the professors, the Headmaster, his classmates.
XX/XX/XXXX-- Certain persons will be useful. Such as those like Avery, Mulciber, Nott, those who are weak; only seeking protection from those who are much more powerful. Or those such as Black and Rosier, gravitating towards a leader who can show them much or refined forms of tactical blood cruelty. Those who show such loyalty like Lestrange. Those who shall bend to my will. Then there is Malfoy who is so ambitious seeking for shared glory that will extend his family's Pureblood name. All are useful parts to obtain my victory.
Riddle sees everyone as pawns, exactly like Voldemort...
Harry prepares to close the dairy shut, until he sees a newer excerpt with the heading "Draco Malfoy". He quickly turns to the page. He won't let Riddle hurt Draco.
The date is the first day Draco and him arrived in 1942. Riddle must have written it that night.
XX/XX/1942-- The newest Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, is painfully obviously a Malfoy, so for him to claim he is this "McClure" is suspicious of itself. The truth will be revealed, I'll make sure of it. However, his skill of Occlumency will be beneficial for me in the future. If he were to become one of the Knights of Walpurgis, their organization would yield more power. Despite his first audience at Hogwarts, he's knowledgeable about the campus' layout. How odd. However, His close acquainted peer, Harrison Evans, is a much more curious case.
Evans could have easily been written off as a toy for Black if not for his several inconsistencies:
His clear aversion to any form of eye contact. His unfounded reservations towards myself. His hidden proficiency of not only wandless magic, but nonverbal magic. His lackluster performance on the new Malfoy's behalf. His extensive familiarity with Hogwarts as well. However, most significantly his ability to render my Legilimency utterly useless. Unlike Malfoy, Evans has no skill in Occlumency, so how--
The ink smudges slightly, but returns back to normal in the next line. Like he left and returned to writing.
Another curiosity.
Evans' ability to sense my presence. There was no indication I was there, but still he managed to identify me with ease. Although Evans seems to fancy me, this will be very useful in our next encounter. Evans' past is a mystery, his powers not yet at his full potential. He requires special attention. After all, to accept ignorance is to relinquish control.
I'll always obtain full control.
Harry shivers reading the line, but it was comforting to know he did outplay Riddle. Over the next few pages, Riddle's slight irritation turns into boiled rage, when Harry was successfully avoiding him. He planned on ambushing him in public to keep Harry from running. Thus, Riddle focuses on Draco and the pre-Death Eaters' meeting.
XX/XX/1942-- Everything is in order with the Knights. As expected of the new Malfoy finally fell into place after the meeting. However, one calculation I haven't foreseen.
Evans.
Harrison Evans.
The boy with unruly dark brown locks, with equally unassuming brown eyes, a small figure that blended in with the masses. So how has he become an enigma which has plagued the forefront of my thoughts? It was hours ago, it was merely the slightest touch. So why? Why? Why did the fleeting moment seared its way into the core of my memories?
His messy, but soft hair... I merely grazed the dreadfully perfect scar of his. Then strange occurrences began. Strong pulsations stampede from my fingertips traveling throughout my veins, steeping deep into my flesh. An electrocution flowing into my very soul, leaving an unidentifiable sensation has its aftermath. Evans retreated, but the urge still lingers. If he were to spell me in such a way, why did he not pursuit me further?
From the moment of my consciousness, it was obvious I am a perfect specimen, both in power, ability, and intelligence. No other can be as great as I.
However... Evans' touch was baffling. The moment he disappeared, it felt as if I was...
Incomplete?
Impossible.
Perhaps some part of Evans, or Evans himself, created a most powerful yearning, an undeniable connection.
Of course, to evaluate the situation, I need to recreate the phenomenon again. And again. And again... Multiple times a day. Rather will it be more efficient to keep Evans by my side to ensure my theories potency.
As the day ends, there are still unanswered inquiries concerning Evans. He was out past the curfew, blood stained his clothes, he knew of Malfoy's true name.
What is he hiding?
Harry squeezes his knees to his chest and bites his lips. From that moment onwards, all Riddle's journal entries were...
About him.
XX/XX/1942-- The new Malfoy and Evans are awfully intertwined, perhaps he is the key to unlock all of his secrets.
XX/XX/1942-- Black has been appearing too close to Evans, he'll learn his place soon enough. Evans' attention shall solely be on me.
XX/XX/1942-- I have come to the correct conclusion about Evans' familiarity with Hogwarts, how he knows such information must be studied. Where does Evans retreat to in the evenings? I search high and low while on night duty, but still he eludes me. Shame. Though not all is lost, occasionally during class there are glimpses of his vulnerable sleeping figure.
XX/XX/1942-- Blood pumps through my veins.
It's impossible, no... it's wonderful.
Though utterly naive for Evans to Imperius Curse on Dippet in the middle of Hogwarts, it's even more baffling to render him back to his incompetence state! What a lackluster use of the Unforgivable Curse.
However, his proficiency, his willingness to perform such a spell is a delight in itself.
Truly delightful.
XX/XX/1942-- According to the professors, Grindelwald has the new Malfoy in his possession, and Evans deems himself fit to play hero? If anything should happen to him, I will destroy the Dark Lord myself.
XX/XX/1942-- Wretched Albus! To have a thousand curses placed upon him would not suffice such bloodlust. How dare he deem the newer Malfoy superior over the likes of I, I who speak Parseltounge?
Conversely, Harry easily agreed. Cementing the bond between himself and the new Malfoy. Juxtapose to his interaction with me. He saw past my facade. On the occasions where I completely cornered him; he remained dismissive, hesitant, meek. However, this time he was brash, bold, stubborn, almost as a Gryffindor.
It was all too brief when "The Boy Who Runs" was pressed against my wall. When does anyone burden me with unanswered questions, while simultaneously bringing me such pleasure? He stood beautifully in my sanctuary, well within my grasp, and the kiss...
The kiss was the epitome of perfection.
Harry's supple waist.
His silky, smooth, skin.
His body complimented mine.
Harry was truly, truly addicting.
How foolish was I to believe the graze was an intense sensation? Nothing compared to every particle of my essence yearning. From the orphanage until Hogwarts, never had I felt such a burning warmth. I vow never to be without it again.
A central part my existence was absence. One I never knew I desired, one I never knew I deserved. While Harry is in my arms, I understand wholeness.
How the universe bends to my will.
For Harry's lips speak Parseltounge, and only Parseltongue. I won't allow this opportunity to be squandered. His only means of communication are through me. This we shall have discussion about anything.
Everything.
This golden opportunity.
Please...
Harry slides the diary down. How Riddle writes about him... It's almost as if he's in love-- It's impossible. There is no way those born from the effects of a love potion can ever experience love. What Riddle wants is different.
It must be.
...Right?
Echos of Dumbledore's warning rings in his ear, "Be careful. Tom Riddle is a master at Legilimency. He is incapable of feeling love; he wasn't made for it. No matter what he says, no matter what he does. He cannot be trusted."
Harry closes his eyes. Allowing his mind to drift into the abyss of emptiness. Icy chill travels through his spine. His subconscious thoughts enter into his waking mind.
There he sees a monster.
The evil who killed his parents before he even got the chance to know them. The evil who has killed countless others and converts more to his madness.
Voldemort.
Harry grabs the helm of the Cloak, and wraps it around his shoulders. He forces his eyes back open, reaching for Riddle's diary. He rereads the last few sentences. The way he writes his words...
Again, Harry closes his eyes.
But this time...
He doesn't picture Voldemort.
He sees Riddle.
Never would Voldemort say any of Riddle's words. If it were the Dark Lord he would use Harry's knowledge to plan his world dominance, thus causing the eventual descent into homicidal despair.
But if it's Riddle. What would they talk about? What would be their "anything" and "everything". Ever since they both arrived in 1942, Riddle hasn't written about his dictator plans, it was all about him. Is it okay to believe Riddle would ask him questions about just plain old Harry?
"Harry, your eyes, your features, your touch, your being. You are someone I have never met before, and whom I never intend to forget. How you are so perfectly you."
Harry allows himself to blush. They might not be...
He brings Riddle's diary back to his sight line. The last entry is from yesterday.
XX/XX/1942-- Finally a moment of solitude, after Dippet and Slughorn display as irksome flies, it's well needed. He shall not be expelled, nor ripped from me. The wrenched Albus must have enjoyed while I was sliced, leaving me to my own devices.
Never before has fear seeped into my lungs. Death's song at the tip of my tongue. Regretfully a truly terrifying experience. However, its grasp weakened as strong force tethered me to waking consciousness. No doubt, it's the connection between us. Even though his wand is brother to mine, did not spare me from the excruciating pain from his spell. The sound of Harry's chanting "Vulnera Sanentur" soothed my soul, inside and out. I suppose I ought to thank that old pathetic relic. After all he presented me with my most intimate juncture with Harry.
Harry.
His emerald green eyes, mysterious scar, his messy hair, everything about him makes me feel so...
Riddle scribbles over the word, and Harry can't make it out. He frowns, but continues.
After all these years, I was content to settle in my position above the rest. Unknowingly, denying myself a precious companion. One who was hiding in plain sight. One who is equal to my power, strength, intelligence, and passion. One who can engage by conversation in Parseltounge. One who can understand me. One I cherish. Has once again vanished.
A strange paradox I find myself in. Despising my father's wretched Muggle name I was given. But... Entranced with the thought of how it would sound from Harry's lips.
I was foolish to loosen my grasp, but should he have rejected my advances, I couldn't bring myself to force him. However, he didn't. Harry does yearn for me. He should be securing in my arms protected from all danger, even from his night terrors. No matter the length, nor the resources. I will find you, Harry. And when I do...
I'll no longer be alone.
When he said, "There's no need for you to apologize. All you need to do, is stay. Stay with me. Stay. Harry... Stay. Please..."
Riddle meant it?
It seems I was correct about the new Malfoy's key to Harry. Despite Harry's disappearance, he remains in close proximity with him. Even after I claimed him as my own, Harry's scent was on the bloody Malfoy.
Surely that insolent new Malfoy couldn't illicit Harry's moans like I could. How Harry's velvet insides clenched around my--
"Ah!" Harry yelps, but his eyes are glued to the pages.
The next few paragraphs are unnecessarily vivid and descriptive, describing what they did in the Hospital Wing. Every single minute detail about his reactions and what caused it. Harry finally turns to page, but it gets worse. The next passages depict all of the things Riddle plans to do! He wrote down several techniques from the "Discreet Tips and Tricks to Greater Homosexual Coitus" book, which even has illustrations!
Finally, Harry slams the book shut, panting lightly. There is no doubt, Riddle isn't Voldemort!
Riddle isn't Voldemort?
Riddle isn't Voldemort...
He isn't him.
They aren't the same.
And... Maybe if Harry tries hard enough, Riddle will never be.
A simple shift, to change the course of time in order to help Tom Riddle. Riddle can change, and Harry will get rid of Voldemort. For good.
Harry stands placing back the diary exactly how he found it. He gathers his things and pulls out the Marauder's Map.
His heart drops, then he sprints out.
The smoke morphes into a creature, no, a figure.
With waxy scaly flesh...
Bone-white cracked skin...
Slit blood red eyes...
Draco's pulse raises, and his eyes are blown open, as the vapors takes form of--
"Lord Voldemort," he whispers.
Everything freezes.
Riddle grabs Draco by the collar, halting his air flow.
"What did you say?"
"I-I..."
Riddle forcefully throws Draco to the ground. What brief moment for Draco cling to any oxygen is cut short with a wand pointed at his neck.
"That name has never seen the light of day. For you to speak of it..." Riddle waves his hand, causing binds to surround Draco's limps. He stares at Draco with such intensity, then releases him.
"Take careful consideration for your next words, Malfoy."
Damn it.
Damn it all.
What the bloody hell is he supposed to say?
...What could he say?
The image of the Dark Lord loams over them.
From Riddle to Voldemort his eyes drag back and forth. How did he transition into such a foreboding Dark Lord? The haze fills the room, and will threaten to consume them both. Draco finds is voice.
"He is whom he fears..."
Riddle's eyes narrow. He is no longer looking at Draco. The wheels inside Riddle's mind spin, and memories start to piece together.
"How curious... You and Harry--"
The seals on the door burst, scattering the remnant of magic through the air. Draco could barely make out the intruder's existence, until the face of the future Dark Lord screeches out, distorting his features.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A sliver with stag enters the room piercing
through the deep fog. Its light illuminates, breaking all shadows, almost as if against a hoard of dementors. The stag gracefully gallops around the room creating glowing ripples with every step.
Suddenly, Potter appears before him, unbinding the spell, "I thought I told you to be careful." His hand extends to Draco.
"I... Well--" Draco blushes.
After the details Riddle shared with him, it's a bit hard to look Potter in the eyes. He turns his head and grips Potter's hand. Once he stands, he immediately swats it away.
"Weren't you the one who said 'I can't'?" Draco snarks back.
Potter pauses for a moment then gives a smile, "Looks like neither of us listens to me."
"Git."
Riddle's attention is solely on the Boy Who Lived. He says something in Parseltongue.
Draco subconsciously maneuvers between the two, using himself as a barrier. Riddle's eyes narrow, breaking away from Potter and toward himself. Potter hesitates, but steps forward. He reaches out his hand, with his palm upwards.
Instead of grabbing Potter's hand, Riddle cups Potter's face and strokes his cheek with his thumb.
"Harry... Finally, stay with--"
Potter turns bright red, "Wait! Riddle. I-I... This time... I'll explain everything."
"Everything?" Draco gasps.
Potter turns back at Draco, "At this point what are we trying to protect? I know how to get home now, so we leave. I think he deserves to know the truth, the whole truth. And afterwards... Well, what he does next is up to him." Potter steps backwards, losing his skin contact with Riddle.
Before he could protest, Potter uses a stunning spell. Only a bloody idiot like him would that to Riddle.
"Please come to the Astronomy Tower after classes are over. Both of you," Potter softly says. Then in the blink of an eye he vanishes.
Riddle grunts at the emptiness and wills himself free from the confines of the spell. He searches the room for any sign of Potter, but finds none. He clicks his tongue and pauses. Almost lamenting the fact Potter slipped through his fingers once again.
"Harry," he mumbles.
Riddle slicks back his hair and straightens his tie. He turns back around to Draco presenting his hand as a peace offering. "I must apologize for my brashness, Malfoy. Seems I have misjudge your... involvement with Harry. If you maintain the current standings, towards the future, you are not deem a threat."
What?
Draco's mouth opens slightly, but he closes it before Riddle could notice. Did Riddle approve of him or insult him? Nonetheless, Draco knows it's better not to bite the hand that feeds him. He nods grasping Riddle's hand in a firm handshake.
Riddle scoffs lightly letting go, "I'm intrigued to see the rest of the day's development." He exits, leaving the door open skewed behind him.
Finally with a moment to reflect, Draco's heart rate returns to a suitable pace. If not for Potter's sudden arrival, Riddle would have had him slaughtered. He conjured his future appearance without the knowledge of its torture weight. However, Potter's sudden change of heart leaves him baffled. What in Riddle's room swayed Potter's thoughts?
Draco bites his lip. He can never completely predict Potter, not in this timeline, or any other timeline. If Potter truly plans on revealing everything to Riddle... What will be gained? But more importantly what will they lose?
Draco groans, he really needs to lay down. He uses Tempus and accepts he still has a lovely fifteen minutes before the next class begins. With leaded feet Draco grunts his way back to the Slytherin Common Room.
When he opens the door, Draco sees Nagini slithering upwards onto Riddle's arm.
"Masssster, you sssseem content. I did what you assssked. I made ssssure your sssspecial read your sssscripturessss."
Riddle scratches the top of her head and she hisses in delight. "Good girl," he replies in Parseltongue.
"What did she say?"
Riddle pleasantly smiles at Draco, "Oh, nothing."
Notes:
This chapter was tricky, because I attempted to retell the entire story up to this point in Riddle's point of view. It gotten too long, but I was fully committed, until I accidently deleted about 1/3 of my writings.
Hope you all like it!
Next chapter: Reentering the Chamber of Secrets with secrets being revealed.
Chapter 13: Because It's You
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Steady as a flowing river, Draco finds himself at peace. He is filled with tranquility, calmness, and ease.
If only.
Hours after the Riddle-Potter ruckus, potent thoughts still linger in the crevasses of his furrow brow. Does Potter actually plan to reveal everything to Riddle? Thousands of scenarios run through his mind, none of the consequences are positive. Stress accumulates into a massive headache.
Draco's head drops into his hands. He grips at his hair's roots. His consciousness goes numb, almost as if a premonition of--
"Malfoy," Riddle stands in front of him interrupting his thoughts.
Unlike the utter mess that is Draco Malfoy, Riddle remains unbothered. His voice is steady, polite, semi-uninterested, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story. Draco couldn't pinpoint the hidden expression, but if he had to... It's a concoction of thrill and possessiveness all underneath the veil of the Riddle certified perfection. Nagini wraps herself around Riddle's neck watching Draco curiously.
Will she be joining them?
Draco sighs inwardly. This Riddle is much better than the one trying to rearrange his organs moments ago. Before he could stand from the Common Room's cushioned seating, books appear in his face.
"These need to be returned," he states, scratching Nagini's scales.
"Riddle, perhaps I could be of use?" Abraxas raises from his seat with Lestrange mimicking his movements
"No need," Riddle places his hand on Draco's shoulder, "Malfoy will suffice."
Nagini hisses and slithers from Riddle's arm to around Draco's neck.
The room goes quiet, Nagini always chose Riddle. To see her wrapped around another was unheard of. If Draco were a Slytherin of this time period, he would pride himself with the unfounded opportunity. However, with Nagini around his throat it isn't a status symbol.
It's a threat.
Riddle exits the Common Room first, leaving Draco to deal with various reactions of the Slytherins. Draco grunts lifting the pile of fifteen books, and heads towards the door, but someone blocks his path.
"Your plans were derailed when Evans was expelled," Abraxas snarls quietly. It seems he doesn't want anyone else to hear their conversation.
"It's unfortunate, but necessary after... After what he did to Riddle. A shame, my belonging shall be here longer," Draco huffs back, slightly out of malice, but also because these bloody books are heavy.
Abraxas' eye twitches. "Bold of you to use Riddle as a shield." His glare is as harsh as before. "Ensuring your utmost safety, are you? Watch what will happen once he finds out you are nothing more than a Blood trait--"
Nagini hisses flashing her fangs towards Abraxas. Immediately, he jolts backwards causing the few in the Common Room to turn their attention back to the two Malfoys. Draco takes the opportunity to escape.
Outside Riddle tapping his finger on his arm. "I prefer not to be kept waiting." He places another book on top of the pile. "We shall head straight to the Astronomy Tower, or have I overestimated your strength? Perhaps you would prefer to stop by the library to off-load the texts?"
Draco swears Nagini got tighter around his throat. "O-of course not. This is a priority."
Riddle grins, "Splendid."
Draco didn't have much time to mull over Abraxas' words, nor why Nagini defended him, not with his arms dragging like lead. Riddle's pet's added weight didn't provide any sanctions either. He was achingly sore after their fantastic waltz. Instead of heading directly to the Astronomy Tower, Riddle decides to do his Prefect rounds, which passes the library. Several times. Even passing down to the kitchen, where Draco is given an apple for a snack. He couldn't grab it with the books in his hand, so the elf places the fruit in his robe.
Riddle is torturing him out of pure enjoyment.
Eventually, they made it to their destination. In front of the door, Riddle runs his fingers through his hair and straightens his tie. Then casts a spell to refresh the rest of his appearance. Why does he need to freshen up to see Potter? Does he hope to add to Potter's marks such as his stated before--
Nope. Draco doesn't want to think about Riddle's previous remarks!
Riddle stands idle a few more moments. If not for Nagini, and the fact Draco is absolutely terrified of future Dark Lord, he would have ushered him to open the bloody door already. These books aren't getting any lighter!
Nagini hisses and Riddle chuckles lightly and turns the knob to find the Astronomy Tower completely empty.
"Harry?" He announces, advancing further into the room.
Draco's arms didn't last. He drops the books on a nearby desk, and rests his legs. Nagini hisses into Draco's ear, drawing his attention to a peculiar note folded on the desk. Before he could reach for it, Riddle snatches it.
He outlines the handwriting so tenderly before reading the contents out loud.
"Second floor girl's lavatory."
Bloody hell.
Is Potter sending Riddle on a wild goose chase? If he was, couldn't he wait until Riddle wasn't anywhere near himself?!
Nagini hisses again, and Riddle sighs, "Now, that's preposterous. You aren't displeased, are you Malfoy?"
His heart sinks to his stomach. Bloody scaly, belly crawler! Draco curses deep inside his thoughts. "Of course not." He approaches the door frame, waiting for Riddle to step out first.
They arrive at the second floor. However, a girl, in blue Ravenclaw colors, walks a couple steps ahead towards the washroom.
She looks familiar, Draco thinks.
Riddle's eyes narrow and he stops her, "Past curfew, are we?"
"Riddle!" She exclaims. "W-what are you doing here?"
"My due diligence as a Prefect of course," he replies easily.
"Your services aren't needed, no-- I didn't mean, I'm only going to the lavatory to do certain... business!"
"Perhaps your 'business' would be better suited closer to your house," he says lowly.
The girl's face turns red, but she sways back and forth. Looks like she desperately needs to go to the washroom. "Well, if you think so R-Riddle," she nods walking back.
"Off you go, Warren," Riddle shoos her away.
The last time the chamber was opened, a Mudblood died, her name was...
"Myrtle Warren," Draco blurts out.
"Yes?" She answers.
Draco's mouth slightly drops. That's why he knew her. It's Moaning Myrtle! Alive and well. Her right foot taps against the floor, and she tosses up her hands when Draco doesn't answer. She groans an insult towards him and runs down the hallways.
"Ten points from Ravenclaw," Riddle calls out.
Her pace doesn't falter and she scampers off deeper into the corridors. Riddle scoffs completely disinterested, and enters in the girl's lavatory without preamble. Nagini hisses for him to follow. Draco winces and awkwardly steps into the girl's washroom. Luckily, no one is inside.
"You made it," a certain Boy Who Lived voice echoes through. Riddle eyes dart around, in search of Potter.
Draco couldn't help it.
"How fascinating, you choose to hide is in the girl's washroom."
"What?!" Potter's voice sounds closer to him. "I don't-- Listen, I would have scared her off if she tried to get in."
"Of course, your presence will scare off any woman," Draco taunts, and he swears Nagini laughed as well.
Potter rips off his Invisibility Cloak and glares at Draco. "Draco, you bloody prat, you are--"
Riddle clears his throat, arms crossed leaning against one of the several pillars. Potter awkwardly coughs, walking towards the sinks. He stops in front of one of the silver faucets, the third one. Draco takes a step closer, and on the faucet is engraved a small snake.
Odd.
Potter clears his throat and hisses at the silver pipe. The room starts to shake. Causing Draco's eyes to dart around the room. Even Riddle's posture is alert. However, Potter remains unfazed. He simply steps backwards as the sink scrapes against the stone floor.
Then the room reveals an uneven ground beneath the surface. A daunting hole which has no light in sight. The gears click as the machinery forces the other sinks to extend outwards. Draco's jaw drops, staring at the hidden passage. His view shifts to Potter, gazing at Riddle, until he realizes he had been staring too long. At the edge of the abyss, Potter jumps inside. Riddle doesn't spare a glance towards him and follows after Potter.
Around his neck, Nagini hisses at him and coils her body towards the trapdoor in the floor. Draco curses and closes his eyes, before taking the leap.
Draco's stomach flies towards his chest on the downward slide. His body accelerates speed then the tunnel ends. Draco shuts his eyes preparing for impact, but Potter casts a spell to ensure a soft landing.
"You may open your eyes now, Malfoy," he hears Riddle says with a slight mocking tone. His throat loosens as Nagini slithers off his neck to Riddle.
Draco gawks at them, humiliated. "Release me!" He yells at Potter. He obliges.
Potter gives a pitiful look towards him, then casts "Lumos" continuing down the dark, old, wet corridor.
The tunnel is disgusting. Cobwebs fill the area with vermin scampers past their feet. Absolutely vile. Deeper inside they go more and more confusing pathways appear. However, Potter stays steady with his pace. His familiarity with this horrid area is odd. What's even more baffling is Riddle's silence. Shouldn't there be a bombardment of questions by now? Why does Riddle marvel at such a dreadful surrounding?
He scratches Nagini's head, almost as if he's thrilled.
Further into the underground passage, a foul stench strikes into Draco'a nostrils. He covers his nose standing at the end of a long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more serpents, rose to a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that fills the place.
"Incendio!" Potter shouts.
The burst of fire shoots out from Potter's wand, its flame illuminates the chamber, expelling the darkness by each lit the torch. The puddles reflect the light with a tint of blood red. When Draco's eyes adjust to the surroundings, his eyes widen. He should have known by all the serpent symbols.
This is...
"The Chamber of Secrets," Riddle proclaims. His hands tremble in unadulterated elation. His eyes absorb each and every detail of the chamber, silently attempts to reveal all its secrets. There in the heart of the chamber is a slaughter. The rotting caress of a once mighty beast.
"This is inconceivable..."
His hand trails over the humongous serpent, unfazed by the stench of death. Blood stains the floor, next to the broken pillars pierced into the dead, scaly, flesh. Its eyes sunken inwards, with flesh-burning scorch marks. Riddle halts at the Basilisk's fangs, sliding his finger downwards ever so slightly.
"Such a magnificent creature, one directly under Salazar Slytherin, became mutilated and soiled so brutally... A rather dangerous magical creature, unable to leave you unscathed..." Riddle stares at Potter.
"The venom... Potter, this was how you--"
"Potter?"
Draco immediately covers his mouth, but hand falls on his left shoulder.
"It's alright. I'm committed to whatever happens." Potter relies so surely.
"Riddle... This isn't my first time killing the Basilisk, I've killed it once before in 1992," He pauses.
Before Draco could cut in, Potter continues, "My name is not Harrison Evans, it is Harry Potter. Born July 31, 1980. I was sent back into time to stop Voldemort's reign. I was sent to stop you."
Invisibility Cloak wrinkles in-between Harry's fidgeting fingers. The silence is as unbearable as the rotting stench. Why is Riddle just standing there?
Of course, Harry didn't expect Riddle to collapse to his knees, gripping the root of his hair, pumping one clenched fists in the air, yelling out: "How could this be???"
But, Harry expected at least some sort of reaction. He's still standing there. His expression is unreadable.
A swift movement when Riddle pulls out his wand. Harry's eyes widen and he mimics his movement. He couldn't guarantee he would win, but he isn't going down without a fight. Before Harry could disarm Riddle he casts a spell.
Immediately, the lingering rotting odor disappears. The air quality purifies leaving in its place an awkward silence.
"There. Isn't this a much more suitable atmosphere for this revelation?" Riddle allows Nagini to slither down. His eyes soften as he closes the distance between himself and Harry. He lowers the Boy Who Lived's arm down.
"From the moment you arrived, I had an inking something was amiss. Both your comfortability at Hogwarts consolidate with the familiarity towards myself. I knew your objective was for me. I considered countless plausible theories, however, Time Magic only occurred as a possibility by courtesy of Malfoy," he gestures towards Draco. Harry turns to him, but Riddle's fingers keep his head firmly in place.
"Harry, you were an enigma I was incapable of deciphering. You were only here to bring me to ruins. However, since the discovery of our connection..." He gently rubs Harry's cheek with him thumb.
"Nothing else matters."
Gazing deep into Riddle's eyes. He couldn't help the blood rushing toward his cheeks.
Riddle chuckles lightly, "What brought forth this sudden admission?"
"Riddle..." Harry pulls away.
"By noon tomorrow, the Solar Eclipse will be in its optimal position. The path of Totality will cross outside of Hogwarts' ground. There beneath the light's shadow, morning and night will meet. When solar magic and lunar magic alter day and night. It will provide immense power all throughout time and space."
Harry turns to Draco, "We'll use its magic to return back home."
Riddle grabs his arm.
"Nothing else matters," Riddle repeats. "You will not sever our bond to return years beyond my reach. I won't allow it." He squeezes tighter.
"I have to stop him. But... Maybe I can help you too. He is something you never have to become," Harry slips his wand back to his side.
"Riddle, you deserve the truth, deserve to know why. So... Use Legilimency on me."
"What?" He let's go.
"Potter, you can't be certain," Draco steps forward.
"I am."
The shock lasts momentarily and Riddle's eyes become tense. He pulls out a small round glass bottle from his robes. He opens the cork and drinks half the clear, colorless, orderless liquid.
Riddle hands the half empty bottle to Harry. He bites his lips. Before he would avoid anything that Riddle gave him, but now Harry is willing to take the risk. For the sake of closure. For the sake of change.
He takes the vile and shallows its contents. It has no taste.
Riddle hums, brushing Harry's bangs aside revealing his scar. He gazes into Harry's green eyes, just as Harry looks into his blue ones. Harry was held like this before... But this time, he doesn't look away. Riddle gazes at him longingly. Then he presses his forehead to Harry's.
A familiar shockwaves pulse through Harry. The intensity of yearning. Previous pleasure inducing sensations seep into Harry. How Riddle touched him, how good to felt. But it's not the time or place to reminisce.
"Legilimens," he whispers in Parseltongue.
Everything turns to black.
This isn't how it was before.
It's strange.
When Snape used Legilimency on him, Harry could feel the magic peel through the layers of his mind. When the Sorting Hat was on his head, he could feel a tingle as it uncovered his inner thoughts. Before he had to build a mental wall to protect his important memories. For Riddle he left his mind open.
Now, it's so quiet...
Something about him, his existence, feels off. Like something is barren.
Harry opens is eyes only to see a crackled ceiling. He sits up, leaving the squeaky bed. The tiles are black and white, the room was shabby, but spotless clean. This isn't Hogwarts. Although, something about the atmosphere seems so familiar.
He tries to explore his new surroundings, but his body doesn't listen. He simultaneously has control, but no control at all. It's like experiencing a movie in first person. He could feel physical and emotional sensations. He became a mere spectator possessing someone's body.
Harry gasps, but no sound passes his lips. He remembers this room, he remembers this building. His body turns to face the mirror. Harry doesn't see himself.
He sees a younger Tom Riddle.
This isn't possible.
Didn't Riddle just use Legilimency on him? If the potion they took was Veritaserum, then why are the scenes playing like Pensive? No... Even Pensive couldn't produce something like this. He could feel and hear Riddle's thoughts.
A wave of negativity washes over his mind. Anger, resentment, isolation, bitterness. A few others pass by, watching him cautiously while the snakes slither beside him. How irksome and annoying are their judgemental eyes. A freak, a monster, a disturbing child. They are the ones who are incompetent, useless, and a waste.
The boiled anguish and pain strikes Harry's heart. It's like all their hatred is directed to him. Is... Is this how Riddle felt?
Suddenly, the black and white tiles morph into the black and white of a familiar portrait hanging in the halls of Hogwarts. Harry, well Riddle's, robes are on instead of the Muggle clothing. He straightens the Head Boy pin and walks down the corridor. Malfoy, Avery, Black, Rosier, Mulciber, and Nott walk alongside him with Lestrange standing especially close.
New emotions enter Harry's emotional state.
Arrogance, pride, superiority.
He looks down at the Knight with condescending eyes. Those around him are beneficial tools, offering their abilities, name, resources, toward his grand efforts. His power in the Dark Arts inspired and terrified them. They know of his strengths and they all shall be loyal to him, obey his every command. He grins making sure to walk in front of the group. The others bow, falling back in line.
When they obeyed him, Riddle emits happiness, but it wasn't exactly how Harry feels happiness. A part of Riddle's emotions are off. Harry can't explain it, but...
Being Riddle feels heavy, but empty.
However, Riddle perceives the emptiness differently. In all other senses, his power, skills, rapport, talent, appearance; they are all ideal. He is fair beyond the Muggles and the Wizards. The only flaw that tethers Riddle from divine perfection is...
Death.
Harry's so-called skin fills with goosebumps and his heart sinks to his stomach. The one and only thing Riddle fears. Once he conquers it, he will be a living deity.
Immortality is the key Riddle is missing.
Riddle reads various books on the topic hovering over the word "horcrux", but then the pages morph together becoming the floating candles of the Great Hall.
Wait... Harry remembers this setting. However, he's now seeing it from a new view.
He stands face to face with himself. His fake brown eyes, wearing the Slytherin's colors.
He, as Riddle, reaches out his hand, and plays with the tip of Harry's bangs. He pushes some away, grazing his scar.
Jolt shock of electricity, just like Harry felt.
In a flash, that emptiness Harry felt before disappears. His barren, dull emotions burst alive.
Harry's thoughts are normal again, well normal enough. While still in Riddle's mindscape, Harry can emote again. It's like when he is with Ron and Hermione, talking about random topics, or laughing together. Those moments when he is gently petting Hegwig underneath the stairs, or flying high on his broomstick.
Power, but warmth seeps into his soul, calling out to him. It's comforting, nice, peaceful, loving--
New surges of immense power travels up his veins.
Possession.
Desire.
Want.
Need.
Everything drowns his lungs, and he feels himself as Riddle hardens. His heart paces quicker. Blood rushes upwards to his cheek and his sweat lightly sticks to the palm of his hand. Their very souls are pulling towards each other. It's screams to be brought together.
"Harry," Harry's voice says from Riddle's lips.
"Harry?" he asks, but this time Harry's words aren't Riddle's.
Harry's consciousness strips away from Riddle's. A flash blinds his eyes, and Riddle's life blinks, before his own memories come flooding back into his mind.
His time locked in the cupboard beneath the stairs, his first letter to Hogwarts, meeting Ron and Hermione, Quidditch, Dumbledore, Cedric, Sirius, Voldemort, Snape, Draco!
All his experiences are coming at him too fast. His sixteen years of life forces its way into his mind in a matter of seconds--
"Harry!" Riddle yells.
Harry snaps into consciousness. Like he was dropping from a balcony into a pool of ice. His eyes sway in haze, until his vision levels out.
When he wakes up he is laying on Riddle's chest.
What happened?
Oh, yeah.
That's right.
He's in the Chamber of Secrets... Harry's attempt to sit up is stopped by Riddle, lifting gently. Riddle situates him between his legs. Harry's legs straddle over Riddle. Riddle readjusts Harry's glasses on his face.
Harry shivers, leaning against Riddle's shoulder. It's nice... He wouldn't mind staying like this, but he hears his name.
Riddle's mask of perfection has fallen. His expression is genuinely concerned, genuinely confused. Harry has seen this honestly before. Back in the Hospital Wing. When Riddle told him to stay, before they...
Riddle caresses him, but his face is revolted, "The Boy Who Lived. The prophecy. Lord Voldemort. My... My father. Is it all true?"
Harry bit his lips. How much did Riddle see, or rather, how much did he experience? His Legilimency didn't painfully rip his mind to obtain his memories, but Harry hoped his past wasn't too emotional. Who is he kidding it probably was... He'll respond diplomatically, keep it vague.
"It's true," his mouth speaks for him.
Huh?
That's not what he wanted to say. Why did he just blurt out?
Riddle chuckles, "Veritaserum is quite potent. Neither you nor I can lie."
"That potion before... Oh, of course a bloody git like you try something sneaky," Harry covers his mouth.
He didn't mean to say that either!
"No need to mince words. I'm quite fond of your bluntness." Riddle smirks, "I'm quite fond of you."
Warmth spreads across Harry's cheek, well, his whole body might as well be on fire.
Riddle isn't lying.
He isn't lying.
Professor Dumbledore was wrong Riddle could change. He could love--
"Wait," Harry shakes his head. Why is he getting ahead of himself? Riddle was born by the effects of a love potion. There is no way he can ever love anyone or anything. Much less someone like himself.
Harry laughs bitterly, almost falling into his self-made fantasy. He turns away, "It's impossible. Given your circumstances, you can't ever love--"
"Then I don't," Riddle growls.
He lifts Harry's chin up, "What I feel for you surpasses any other emotions ever expressed before. This yearning, this urge, this passion. Neither Muggle nor Wizard have come close to experiencing this. What I feel is solely created for you! I..."
A chaste kiss falls on Harry's lips.
"You."
Riddle grins, pressing their foreheads together. "Harry Potter, I..."
Harry's feeble gasp falls short when Riddle's tongue intrudes past his soft lips. His heart beats faster and faster while Riddle's stray hand slides around Harry's lower back, pulling him closer. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Their bodies grind against each other while their tongues explore delightfully. Riddle pulls back leaving Harry panting.
"You," Riddle says, licking his lips.
"T-That's," Harry blushes, "That's not fair..."
Riddle's chuckles, "What's 'not fair' is, I believe I have told you how I felt, but haven't heard anything directly from you. Well, Harry. What do you feel towards me?"
"Uh..." Harry bites his lips, Veritaserum will make him reveal how he feels anyway, so he might as well just say it.
"Tom," he whispers, leaning closer. "I think I--"
"Ahem!"
Both their heads turn to the slightly embarrassed, slightly annoyed other Slytherin.
"Draco!!!"
Draco could only watch as Riddle brushes Potter's bangs from his scar then leans closer. He whispers a phrase in Parseltongue. Then both of them collapse to the ground.
"Bloody hell!"
Draco shouts, running towards their limp bodies. Legilimency never affected both the user and the target before. Draco casts a spell for them to be several paces away from the rotting snake corpse.
Potter fell on top of Riddle, and Draco's attempt to hoist Potter off of the Future Dark Lord is futile. When he tired Riddle would subconsciously squeeze Potter tighter. Their chests move up and down. At least they are still breathing.
Odd.
Their breaths are in unison. What the bloody hell is going on?
He isn't sure if waking them is a mistake, or the best case scenario. He decides it's best to have time awake he reaches out his hand and Nagini hisses her fangs at him.
"Woah!" He jolts his hand back.
She slithers between Potter and Riddle sniffing their cheeks. She nods lightly, keeping Draco away from them both.
"Fine," he huffs out. He summons a cushion on one of the broken pillars. "Noon tomorrow..." He mumbles.
They better wake up soon.
About an hour passed, but still Potter and Riddle made no signs of waking up. Draco retrieves the apple from his robe and takes an unnecessarily large bite. All this waiting is making him anxious. Nagini watches him curiously.
"...Do serpents eat fruit?" He shallows and takes a smaller bite. Then throws Nagini a piece. She belly crawls to the slice and licks the juices.
"Harry?" A hoarse voice calls out.
Draco's eyes dart to Riddle. Potter's body is shaking uncontrollably.
"Harry!" Riddle yells.
Potter gasps from on top of Riddle's chest. When he tries to get up, Riddle hoists him upwards, to where Potter is straddling his lap. Potter shivers and leans against Riddle's shoulder.
Draco shifts uncomfortably, the scene felt awfully intimate. He should make his presence known.
"Pot--"
"Harry," Riddle says before him. He caresses Potter. "The Boy Who Lived. The prophecy. Lord Voldemort. My... My father. Is it all true?"
What? Riddle knows about Potter? The Dark Lord? But how? His Legilimency must have worked, but why was it's use so strange?
His father...
Draco has yet to hear the full story of the Dark Lord's past, he only knows he was brilliant even as a youth. Tom Riddle was the prime example, but his father? That was a mystery.
"It's true," Potter responses, then proceed to look absolutely baffled by the words he spoke.
Riddle chuckles, "Veritaserum is quite potent. Neither you nor I can lie."
Riddle stole the Veritaserum? When did he-- How did he-- Draco shakes his head, the details didn't matter. What absolutely boggled his mind is the ever suspicious Potter easily drinking a strange vile from Riddle. Had he learned nothing from Grindelwald's True Loyalty? What a complete boneheaded idiot!
Draco glares back towards Potter to unleash his fury.
Instead his jaw drops.
Riddle is snogging Potter.
Completely.
Their arms are intertwined together like vines on the fence. Their bodies are grinding towards one another.
"Terrified? Harry yearns for me. He renders plaint by my sweet nothings. He moans in pleasure by my simple touches. His lovely tears glisten from my gaze. His fingernails etch into my flesh as I thrust deeper inside of him. It's futile to believe he can passionately drain me of my semen then disappear in terror."
This is-- This is--
Draco blushes madly.
"You," Riddle smirks, licking his lips.
"T-That's," Potter blushes, "That's not fair..."
Riddle's chuckles, "What's 'not fair' is, I believe I have told you how I felt, but haven't heard anything directly from you. Well, Harry. What do you feel towards me?"
"Uh..." Potter bites his lips, "Tom."
Did Potter just refer to Riddle by his first name?!
Nope, that's it. This is his threshold. This is all Draco can bear.
Potter leans closer, "I think I--
Draco clears his throat as loudly as he can, "Ahem!"
Potter's head humorously twists toward him, "Draco!!!"
He leaps up from Riddle's lap, running straight to him. Once in his personal space Potter flails his arms madly.
"Draco! I forgot you were here! I didn't see you because Riddle is extremely attractive. Well, you are dashing in your own right, but not comparable to him. You weren't supposed to see any of that! If I knew you were here I wouldn't have snogged--"
"SILENCIO!!!" Draco casts the charm.
A Veritaserum Potter is a force to be reckoned with. Draco wills himself not to look in Riddle's direction, but it didn't stop the dark energy emitting from behind his back.
"Potter. When I release this charm, please, for the love of Merlin, only speak about information pertaining to how to get us home. Understood?"
Potter's eyes widen, nodding his head up and down.
Draco rolls his eyes, releasing him.
"Git," Potter mumbles underneath his breath.
"What--"
"Listen, the Solar Eclipse will be in position by noon tomorrow. We have a limited window for preparations. The moon's shadows only last for several minutes. We have to be ready by then, if we're not..." Potter shakes his head, "Once I recreate Dumbledore's Tempus Commutatus summon circle, if I change the rune it should fifty years forward."
"Now, that won't do," Riddle looms over Potter's shoulder.
"Riddle?" Potter pauses briefly, "I told you before we aren't staying."
Riddle sighs, "That wasn't what I was referring to." He makes eye contact with Draco ever so briefly.
"Unfortunately, Tempus Commutatus won't bring you home with a simple rune swap. No, the best course is to reverse the whole rune inscription itself. Thus, you won't be sent fifty years to the future, it'll return you back to the initial summoning location."
Riddle's right. If they were spring forward fifty years to the future here, they might find themselves in a completely new time stream. After what they have changed, who knows where they'll end up.
"Brilliant..." Draco mumbles sarcastically. "How could it be reversed?"
Riddle scoffs, "Though a bit time consuming, its execution is rudimentary. It can be easily completed before noon with time to spare."
"Then will you help us?" Potter asks, his eyes are pleading.
There's no doubt it would be an easy feat for Riddle, but convincing him is another story. How utterly idiotic is Potter? Clearly Riddle is keen on keeping him! He'd never agree--
"Of course, darling," he smirks.
What?! Draco squeaks out a noise from his dropped jaw. Then his eyebrows twist. Did Riddle just call Potter "darling"?
In response, Potter pathetically chokes on his own breath.
Riddle chuckles, "I recall saying; 'Come to me if you have any problems.'" He wraps his arm around Potter's lower waist. "Harry. I'll never become him. Never Voldemort."
Both Potter's and his own eyes widen.
To proclaim such a thing... No, for Draco to witness such a proclamation is...
"Riddle--"
"I much preferred when you called me 'Tom'," he smirks.
Potter bites back his lips, "Tom... Thank you."
Denying Lord Voldemort? Could Draco imagine doing such a thing. No... he could. Chills travel up and down his spine. Where does that leave him? His parents? Dread fills Draco's veins. He couldn't--
"What about your followers?" Draco blurts.
Riddle's eyes narrow, "Hmm... I suppose without me there would be chaos. Wouldn't it, Draco?"
Draco steps backward, almost crushing Nagini. Why did Riddle use his first name?
Unaware of his current turmoil, Potter snaps his fingers.
"I got it."
He pulls Riddle down by the neck, "Excuse me." Then proceed to pluck off one of his hairs.
"What the bloody hell?!" Draco shouts.
"Calm down," Potter covers his ears. "If I can Polyjuice potion Riddle, I can cover for you both. I'll act as him for all his classes while he works on the summon circle."
What the bloody hell?! Did Potter not realize if any other person did what he just did, they would be slaughtered thoroughly with even their ashes disposed of in an uncharted location!
"We should head back," Potter fluffs out his Invisibility Cloak. "Do you want me to drop you somewhere else to recreate the runes?"
"Though I would rather enjoy pressing my body against yours in a confined space... Here is hidden enough," Riddle nods, completely ignoring the enormous serpent's carcass.
Potter blushes, "Uh, I see..." he looks at the decaying body as well. "Come on, Draco. Let's go," he opens wide the cloth.
"Ah," Riddle cuts in front of him. "Later, I require Draco to lend me an arm."
Does Riddle mean "lend me a hand"?
Potter raises his brow, either wondering the same thing or finally noticing Riddle had been referring to him by name.
He shakes his head, "Um... Okay. Well, I'll be off." He wraps the cloak around his body, completely disappearing.
The sound of Potter's footsteps traverses across the chamber until light echoes are produced in the tunnels.
Draco shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Why do you require my assistance--"
Riddle grabs his arm, but doesn't lose his delight. With one swift motion he tears away Draco's sleeve, exposing the inner part of his left forearm. That's where--
"WAIT--"
Imprinted on Draco's arm is an intricate design of a snake weaving around a skull, protruding out its mouth.
Draco's Dark Mark.
"So this is the design he settled on," Riddle scoffs. "Since a ludicrous branding method, don't you agree..." Riddle glares into Draco's eyes.
"Death Eater."
Notes:
Thoughts on Riddle's double confession?
Next chapter:
How Riddle knows about Draco's Dark Mark, his request, and Harry's disguise goes as well as you expect.
Chapter 14: A Chance
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Inside the heart of the Chamber of Secrets, burning lights flicker, reflecting from the dead basilisk's scales. The light hits the corner of Draco's eyes, but his focus is somewhere else. His once grand pride; now, a dire secret.
His Dark Mark.
"Since a ludicrous branding method, don't you agree..." Riddle glares into Draco's eyes.
"Death Eater."
Draco yanks away from Riddle's grasp. He covers his left arm, "How could you have..."
"Our unique bond merged with Legilimency. I lived his vivid experiences, his emotions as well. Despite it all, I still retained my consciousness to assess the situation," Riddle places Nagini on Draco's throat, and she slowly wraps around him.
"He suspected where your loyalties lie, has he not? What would have come of his suspicions if you two stayed in your timeline? Perhaps he would become utterly obsessed with you..." Riddle clicks his tongue. "Once you arrived alongside him, all his thoughts became how to return you home. However... your thoughtlessness provided me with such beneficial insights."
"Thoughtlessness?" Draco's hands shake.
"Your reverence upon our first encounter. The title you bestow on me during the Knights of Walpurgis meeting. You recall, don't you?"
"But now it's no longer an issue, my Lord."
Draco bows his head.
Amused with Draco's reaction, Riddle moves his wand, and hums lightly...
Lestrange swoons over Riddle with pure glee, "Yes, my Lord." He copies Draco's words, hoping for the same reaction.
Did they not call Riddle by title yet?
"Of course, when you proclaim the name that I have yet spoken of," Riddle looks down on Draco. "It became clear as day."
Lord Voldemort.
Bloody hell.
Nagini hisses into Draco's ear causing Riddle to chuckle. "A bit of a stretch, Nagini, but fascinating nonetheless. Should I congratulate you for entering the Dark Lord's inner circle? I am intrigued by what trivial missions he had in store for you."
Trivial mission?
No, no, this was the most important assignment he bestowed onto anyone. Draco Malfoy, pure blood heir of the Malfoy family, Slytherin, prefect, youngest Death Eater. His mission is to kill--
Draco's heart rate spikes upwards while simultaneously sinking to his stomach. Almost as he forgotten. All this time he was desperate to return back to their original time, but if he and Potter return now, he has to...
"What rewards will you obtain from doing his bidding? You know the ins and outs of the future. Could you imagine what can be accomplished if you stay?"
If he stayed? If he stayed then his father and mother would be seen as incompetent. Unable to raise their son. He has to return, no matter what. If he were to fail he would bring shame to the Malfoy family... He can't be the weakest link. Can't destroy his family's legacy!
"No," Draco growls.
Riddle rolls his eyes and sits on the fallen pillar. "Now be reasonable. I am extending my good will to you. If you were to stay, you will obtain all the praise and acclamation you desire. I am sure Harry will--"
"Don't tell Potter!" Draco's eyes widen and he grips Riddle's shirt. Adrenaline pulses through him. If Potter found out he was a Death Eater would he leave him here? Would he turn him in? What would that make them?
Riddle shoos Draco's hands from shirt, "I don't intend to reveal your pathetic secrets."
"Oh, really? You, the bloody bloke who's fallen for the Boy Who Lived, is willing to deceive your beloved?!"
"My, my, Draco," he says mockingly.
Riddle unfolds his arms and nods. Nagini squeezes Draco's throat, then before he could react, Riddle presses his wand to Draco's throat. Riddle leans downwards, "Bold for you to speak to me in such a manner. Have you forgotten? I am under the influence of Veritaserum. What I speak now, is the truth."
Riddle lifts up his wand! Only to tap Nagini's head. The pressure around his throat loosens.
"I couldn't care less about your opinions," Riddle whispers. He pauses and groans. "However, I know he does... Perhaps I could have a change in heart, if you are willing to do something for me."
Draco's eyes twitch. He can feel Nagini's wet tongue on his neck, her sharp fangs carefully pressing on his cheek.
"What exactly?"
"I want..." Riddle pauses, then an eerie gleeful smirk appears on his face.
"Marvolo Gaunt's ring."
"The G-Gaunt's ring?"
"Of course," Riddle pulls out his wand and clears the rubble from the ground. He counts his step and casts another spell to form a large circle. "A physical memento as proof of my family's heritage. I'm sure you, of all people, understand the sentiment."
"I suppose I do," Draco mumbles.
"Wonderful. Thus, while I put my efforts into completing the summoning ritual, you are to go to Little Hangleton and retrieve the ring for me."
"Little Hangleton?" he repeats. His father allowed him on his travels across the wizarding world, but this location is one Draco's never heard of.
"Yes, a village... in the Muggle world."
Past the tunnels of the Chamber of Secrets, then passing through the Girl's lavatory, Harry makes it through the endless corridors of Hogwart's. Silence fills the night, with the occasional prefects and Professor doing their nightly rounds. Harry maneuvers through them all until he makes it to the potions classroom. He slips his wand through the folds of the Invisibility Cloak.
"Alohomora."
The door clicks open, and Harry hears footsteps freeze and approach closer to him. He scampers inside.
"Colloportus."
The door closes behind him. The footsteps shuffle back and forth until it halts right behind the door. Whoever is there, jiggles the nob, before sighing loudly and yawning. There's a hush curse word and a complaint about being tired, before the person walks away.
Thank Merlin...
Harry pulls off his cloak. Empty seats with dim lighting from a cauldron above the fireplace, it softly bubbles up and down like its breathing. Professor Slughorn must be preparing for tomorrow's lesson. Harry rushes to the cabinets, hopefully, there are pre-prepared potions in storage. Soft clinks of the glass harmonize with the boiling of the brew to fill the barren classroom. Harry sighs, grumbling to himself. There are no Polyjuice potions.
He bites his lips, "Tempus."
It's far past midnight. The potion's brewing time is too long, there's no way he could make it in time. Harry glances over to the bubbling potion and grabs the wooden ladle. He sticks the ladle inside and stirs the purple concoction. He brings its contents to his nose and sniffs. Blasted... Of course he isn't that lucky. Instead of Polyjuice, it's some sort of growth potion. Harry groans and throws the ladle down a bit too hard, causing the potion splash on the table.
"Ugh!" Harry groans.
He transfigures a leaf into a towel to clean his stupid mess. Blotches of purple stain an open book. Wait... It's the recipe list: knotgrass, leeches, lacewing flies, boomslang skin... These are the ingredients for Polyjuice as well all that's missing is bicorn horn and fluxweed!
Harry opens the back door to gather the rest of the ingredients. He could only hope the fluxweed was harvested on the full moon. Judging by its color he would assume it is. Once done he returns to the brewing pot. There's no telling what would happen if he screws up the potion, but he had to at least try. He flips the potion lexicon to Polyjuice and begins the process.
After several minutes of careful counter clockwise stirring, the purple brew becomes thick, dark, and muddy. Its bubbles slowly pop releasing a foul odor. Harry swats the fumes away to no avail.
He pulls out Riddle's... Tom's hair, and it falls into the mixture. The brew turns into a beautiful maroon hue, and its scent becomes smokey and fine. Almost like Tom's scent.
Harry pours the dense liquid into a cup. "Here goes nothing," he sips.
The metal cup clangs against the floor. Harry grips the edge of the table, his throat burns. The flavor itself is spicy and exotic, but his body lurches over itself. He could feel his organs being rearranged from the inside. His bones twist and turn stretching bigger and longer until they settle into a new position. Harry's cheekbones move upwards and his jawline is sharp, causing his throat to cough. His whole body shakes until the sensations stop. Harry stumbles to the clean metal plate and looks at his new reflection.
Unlike the combined Legilimency experience, this time he has control. Harry removes his glasses and looks back into the reflection. Tom has fantastic eyesight. His skin is strikingly flawless. Harry runs his hands through Tom's silky hair, trying to make it effortlessly perfect.
Harry smiles, then frowns, then pouts.
He snorts.
Tom with actual various expressions? How could he not find it amusing? Harry spins around and poses his best "Tom Riddle" impression.
He straightens his back and smugly smiles, "Glad to make your acquaintance. I am Tom Riddle, Slytherin's Prefect and Head Boy." He extends his hand out.
He scoffs, waving off his reflection, "You're dismissed."
Harry chuckles. So that's what Tom would look like if he simply let loose.
Harry pauses.
A foreign idea pops into his mind. He places his hand on the metal plate, "Harry..."
"I love you."
....
Heat burns his cheeks.
Oh dear Merlin! What did he just make Tom do?! Harry blushes madly. He can't believe he just did that!
Before putting the metal plate down he takes one final look at his reflection. The image of Tom's beet-red and expression is... Is oddly adorable. He hopes he could see the real Tom look like this before he goes back to his time.
Harry shakes his head. He's mucked around long enough. He straightens his collar and robes, just like Tom would've. Then he reaches into his pocket getting a pin he almost forgot he still had...
"Young man, how dare you interrupt my lesson?" Professor Merrythought stands in-between them.
"Who are you?" Malfoy eyes Draco up and down.
Draco growls, as if personally offended, "What? 'Who am I?' How prosperous! You dare not know my name?! It's Draco, Draco Mal--"
"McClure!" Harry shouts, grabbing Draco's robes, he stealthy rips the Prefect pin off.
Harry puts the pin perfectly in place and lifts his chin upwards as Tom does. He grabs the cauldron and pours all of its contents down the drainage. He could imagine tomorrow the entire class turning into Toms. Satisfied that everything is in order Harry nods and leaves the classroom. He carefully locks the door on his way out.
"Riddle."
Harry jolts. Wait, no. Tom wouldn't jump in surprise. He wills himself to regain his composer before turning around to see...
Professor Dumbledore.
"Professor," Harry greets with a polite, but dismissive tone.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes narrow settling into a glare. He didn't even bother to hide his obvious disdain for Tom. "What business do you have here?"
Harry scoffs, as Tom does, "Well, if you must know, sir. It's to make a Polyj--"
He covers his mouth.
Why did he--
Veritaserum.
Harry silently sends a bombardment of insults at himself. He needs to get out of here.
Professor Dumbledore watches him carefully. "Well, well..." He mumbles. "Come."
Weighing out his options, Harry decided against blasting or stunning his future Headmaster. It would only ruin Tom's reputation. At this moment, it's best to lay low. As long as he doesn't say anything, it will be fine.
Professor Dumbledore places his hand on his shoulder and leads him down the hall. Through the left and right corridors, until they make it towards the professor's offices. Harry pivots left in the direction of the Headmaster's office until he realizes Professor Dumbledore stops in front of his own. Harry's eyes widen slightly, but he pretends to stretch and enter the quaint office.
Chirp!
The phoenix flies down circling Professor Dumbledore's head. He is clearly glad to see him return. Harry glances toward Fawkes, he has grown since he had been here to get the ashes. Fawkes makes eye contact with Harry and squawks menacingly. However when he flies closer to towards, Fawkes chirps and nuzzles at his hand.
"Nice to see you again," Harry smiles, giving the bird gentle pets.
Professor Dumbledore strokes his beard and sits. "'Again' you say?"
Harry curses underneath his breath. Could phoenixes see past Polyjuice effects? Exactly when does Veritaserum wear off? He needed to make sure he didn't say anything to Professor Dumbledore about the future, but how could he answer without spilling the truth? He bites the tip on his thumb.
"Hmmm," Professor Dumbledore hum lightly, "I assume there's an explanation for your sudden abundant expressions."
Harry really needs to try harder acting as Tom. He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it. Anything he says now will just turn against him! Stupid honesty!
Unless...
Of course!
There still is something he can do.
Harry grins, "Tom said he's willing to help us get back, so to avoid any rising suspicion, I'll be Polyjuicing as him."
In return, the young Dumbledore sighs, "Parseltongue..."
Harry raises his eyebrows. Why did Professor Dumbledore react that way? Harry crosses his arms for the Tom Riddle touch. It doesn't matter because any questions Professor Dumbledore throws his way, he'll be able to counter it with ease.
The young Dumbledore unwraps his last sherbet lemon drop and places it into his mouth. He folds the plastic over on itself, making a tiny little square. He pauses briefly to savor the flavor and turn back towards Harry.
"To get back where exactly?"
Harry's eyes, well, technically Tom's eyes widen. How did he... He swore on everything, he said it in Parseltongue. Did he learn to speak to--
"Learning Parseltongue is a difficult feat. However, there are cases where one may emulate the pronunciations," he corrects.
Impossible. Is he reading his mind?
No...
No, wait...
It's something far worse.
"I suggest some Occlumency lessons will benefit you."
"That's--"
"Young Evans, I assume?"
"Actually, it's Potter--" Harry slams his palms on the desk, causing Fawkes to fly back to his cage.
Silence fills his office, but Professor Dumbledore seems unfazed. Instead he opens his drawer and pulls out a bag of sherbet lemons. He pulls out his wand and waves it in a semi circle. The bag floats in the air, ripping open. The glass bowl visits the same height, and the hard candy cascades into the bowl. The bowl slowly floats back into the desk, sliding closer to Harry.
"Harry... Care for a lemon drop?" Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.
"I... Uh... Thank you sir," Harry shyly takes the shiny golden candies and pops it into his mouth. The sour-sweetness fills his taste buds, and also calms his nerves. Harry lets the candy dissolve on his tongue.
Fawkes pokes his head from his cage then flies onto Professor Dumbledore's desk. The future Headmaster gently pets his feathers.
Harry watches while mimicking, the previous action of folding the discard wrapper into a tiny square. "Sir, exactly how much do you know?"
Professor Dumbledore hums lightly, "More than a few, less than enough." He sighs and waves his hand. Books, quills, papers, and other miscellaneous items rise into the air, flying towards another location. Leaving his desk blank, and himself and Harry face to face.
"Potter, was it? You were very cautious upon your arrival. Your past intertwined with secrets. I have known nothing until your eyes became a brilliant green. Though your past escapes my knowledge, your suspicions aren't unfounded. I support all your past verdicts towards young Riddle. So much so, I falsified your expulsion. However..." Professor Dumbledore eyes him up and down. Is he actually looking at him, or at Tom's features he is portraying?
"I find your current shift towards young Riddle... Concerning. His abilities, his intelligence, even his charms. I beg you not to fall prey to his manipulations. The core of a person cannot be changed. They can only be stopped."
Just like he said before...
Be careful. Tom Riddle is a master at Legilimency. He is incapable of feeling love; he wasn't made for it. No matter what he says, no matter what he does. He cannot be trusted.
However, Tom's words...
"What I feel for you surpasses any other emotions ever expressed before. This yearning, this urge, this passion. Neither Muggle nor Wizard have come close to experiencing this. What I feel is solely created for you! I..."
A chaste kiss falls on Harry's lips.
"You."
Harry brushes his fingertips over his lips. He has made mistakes before, and he'll continue to make mistakes again, it's life's right. So... There's no doubt, Tom Marvolo Riddle will make mistakes too. Harry can only hope he doesn't waste his chance to be better.
He shakes his head, "Sir... Tom isn't an impossibility. I don't condone his past actions, but his path isn't set in stone. The core of a person is more complex, then just back and white. Call me navie if you please, but I truly believe he is helping us. I believe he can change. A wise wizard, the greatest wizard I have ever known, told me: 'It is our choices, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.'"
"My boy..." He pauses, afraid of his next words, "Have you fallen in love with him?"
Harry doesn't break eye contact, by his fist squeezes. "I think... I have," he replies.
Professor Dumbledore stands from his seat, causing Fawkes to fly away. He groans deeply with his hand over his mouth. It's a bit hard to see, but his hand is shaking.
"Though some are changed by love..." He starts.
He returns his gaze back on Harry, "Others can be blinded by it. My boy, I beg you to reconsider."
Blinded? Who-- Wait...
"Potter. The ingredients for the potion you found... It's useless. Utter rubbish! Some concoction Grindelwald and Dumbledore created as their dying devotion towards one another. It... It won't return us home."
Then...
"How impersonal. To share our creation with two insolent, worthless, Slytherins students?! Albus!" Grindelwald growls hovering over his table against the wall.
Grindelwald.
"...I've too once fallen for the same deception," his voice is unbearably low. "His magnificent qualities were awe inspiring, absolutely brilliant. Together we better each other. We understood each other. However, his lust for power and dominance exceeded our affinity. Despite my pleads I..." He chokes on his words.
After a moment he inhales, "Don't trust him. Spare yourself from the pain and heartache."
Professor Dumbledore stays upright, like he always has been, however, the heartbreaking expression still slipped through. He's well-intentioned, honest. He is trying to save Harry from making his mistakes, but there is one thing he is forgetting...
"Tom isn't the Dark Lord."
Harry stands from his seat. "Thank you for your time professor. The sherbet lemon drop was delicious, but I will leave now," he honestly says.
"Harry..." Professor Dumbledore places his hand on his shoulder. "Putting your faith in Riddle is a dire gamble."
"With all due respect, professor. I prefer to call it a gambit," Harry brushes his hand away.
"A Final Gambit."
Harry leaves the office completely exhausted. Every step down the corridors feels like a marathon of fire inside his numbing mind. There's a limited number of hours until the solar eclipse, but just for a minute, or even a second, he didn't want to not think.
He just wants to rest his eyes.
"Malfoy."
"Malfoy."
"Draco Malfoy."
A ghastly chuckle fills the dark void.
Different voices simultaneously chant out his name. Are they cheering or screaming? Draco couldn't tell the difference.
"Silence," one says with a hiss.
That voice...
It could only be--
A searing symbol is burnt into Draco's flesh. His left arm contorts left and right as the final image etches into his skin.
He is a Death Eater; he finally has his Dark Mark.
The crowd cheers.
"Oh, Malfoy..." The Dark Lord circles him. "This is an honor you are about to receive! No other Death Eaters are worthy as you! You who are the youngest and most brilliant. There's a mission I solely entrust to you. To restore faith back into the Malfoy Family. To save your father from his injustice. All you have to do is..."
His scaly white skin curls up into a deadly smile, "Kill Albus Dumbledore."
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Draco shoots up, gasping for air.
He tries turns to his side, but his whole left side is completely numb. A tight scaly texture surrounds his neck, drooping around his left arm.
Bloody hell.
He forgot Riddle left him with a babysitter. Nagini hisses lightly tightening her grip. Damn it. It was only a few hours ago that Riddle threatened, uh, convinced him to go to the Muggle World to obtain his family's heirloom. If he does this, then he'll finally go back home. Will Riddle really let Potter and himself leave?
Draco groans.
Riddle's knowledge of the Chamber's tunnel leads him right outside of Hogwarts boundaries. There he travels through the bricked gateway, through the portal, and smacks into the Muggle realm. Does the past lack in security, or did Riddle have connections?
Draco lends back on the cushioned chairs of the metal beast. The sun is barely rising and still some Muggles are watching him strangely. How dare they gawk at him like he is some sort of spectacles. They are the ones in strange clothing, not him! He suppose he didn't have a relatively large snake wrapped around his neck. However, it gives them no right to treat him as a deviant. When they aren't staring at him, some of the Muggles keep their eyes towards the skies, with caution. Almost as if something will fall from the sky.
How pointless.
Draco looks outside the window and sees extravagant villas with the gates encapsulates acres and acres of land. The metal beast stops, and hesitantly steps out. The man at the circle grumbles something underneath his breath before disappearing down the road. Draco pulls out Riddle's instructions to Little Hangleton. The note isn't as clear as Riddle 's other orders, almost as if he had never set foot in such a place.
Together, Draco and Nagini walk past the exquisite house onto a winding damp dirt road. Mud clings to the bottom of his shoes. Disgusting. Eventually, the ground shifts from mud to gravel integrating another lackluster road system. A small, rather pathetic, village comes into view. Its atmosphere is a juxtaposition from the extravagant manors before. Are all these the low class Muggles?
Nagini hisses into his ear to go left into the dense trees. Draco scoffs trying to stay on the right side with the gravel road. Nagini pouts, or rather, sticks her tongue into Draco's left ear.
"Ugh!" He shouts.
What Pureblood would want this estate as their place of dwelling? Riddle's stupid serpent forces Draco to travel uphill against the way of the viney trees. If only they weren't in the Muggle World, he would have incinerated every last one of them. The vines hang low threatening to hit his face. Draco growls, swatting them aside. A symphony of hisses is his response.
Those aren't vines...
Draco's eyes move upward.
Dozens of snakes dangle from the branches. All of them are watching him. Draco lifts his hands up and treads carefully. One adder, a cobra, drops down. His fangs are all Draco could see. Immediately, Nagini leaps forward on his shoulders and hisses back. All around the nearby serpents turn their attention towards her. Nagini's tail extends into the air and she shows her fangs. It's much larger than the cobra's. The cobra wraps into a ball, like a form of submission, then slithers back up the trunk. Nagini hisses almost smugly, then returns to Draco's neck.
Draco shivers, "Don't ever do that again."
A momentary break from trees exposes an opening. However, the branches don't spare any sympathy. Bare minimum sunlight doesn't even make it to the ground. The field is enclosed by an unkept hedge with discolored patches of tall weeds scattered throughout. It's strange. The grass's movements are uneven, but there is no breeze--
Bloody hell.
Again.
It isn't grass...
Hundreds of snakes surrounding a small shabby shack. The stone tiles are moldy, broken, or both. Beside the hut is a dried-up well next to a broom that has never been used. The hut's roof is sunken down, windows are broken, the wooden is corroded, moss and vines travel up the side. Everything about the air is rotten, not as horrid as the dead basilisk, but terrible enough. By far the worst feature is all the "pets" scattered throughout the yard.
Nagini hisses again, and Draco swears on all the magic in the world, they made a pathway for him. He makes it to the rusted door knob in the shape of another serpent. The Gaunt are very committed to their designs, aren't they? But... Why would the Heirs of great Slytherin heritage choose to live among the Muggles? To live even poorer and worse than the Weasleys? Not even the upper class Muggles, to live in such isolated filth. Draco pulls his sleeve down and opens the door.
The interior is worse. Mold and dust had nowhere to escape, so the filth makes its way through the so-called living room. Rubbish and spoiled food are cluttered in the corners. Draco winces. How could anyone dare live like this?!
A noise answers his question. On a putrid looking armchair, next to the smoking fireplace, a man sits playing with a red and black snake. His head twitches to the left and he brings the snake closer to his face, cooing and grunting something Draco can't make out. The man hisses, and the adder hisses back.
Parseltongue...
"Marvolo Gaunt?" Draco chokes out.
This is a bad idea.
"I was sent by Tom Marvolo Riddle. To... To collect the Gaunt's ring."
"Marvolo? Tom Riddle... Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle!!!!" the unhinged madman lets out an ear piercing screech.
"Destroying the Gaunt's family wasn't good enough?! Come to collect the ring as a prize?! Merope, you fatuous bitch! Wasting cauldrons and cauldrons of Amortentia on that worthless Muggle?!"
Draco freezes.
What is he talking about? Merope Gaunt... Marvolo's Daughter? Using Amortentia for a Muggle? Why potioned him? Was she obsessed with a Muggle? No, wait... Was Riddle's father a Mug--
The man's eyes widen as he grabs one of the burning logs with his bare hands. He runs straight towards Draco pinning him down on the filthy floorboards. Draco winces in pain. The man stares at him with a crazed look.
"You who--" He claws at Draco, his ring hits Draco's chin. "A Malfoy!" He growls. "What? Come to gloat?! Come to see how the great Gaunts have fallen?! You who obey the words of a feeble Muggle?! My father's name will never again leave your filthy mouth!!!!" He almost slams the burning embers to Draco's face.
Draco squeezes his eyes shut, but Nagini strikes instead. Her fangs sink deeper and deeper into his neck. He shrieks in pain yanking the serpent off his neck. Nagini hits the back wall and flips to the ground.
Her poison pulses through Marvolo's son's body. His muscles twitch more. His skin becomes deadly pale as his veins turn black. He falls to the ground, "Malfoy... It's your turn to fall next!"
Marvolo's son screams out in Parseltongue. The red and black snake slithers towards him, and Draco could hear several thousands of hisses getting louder and louder.
Draco needs to leave. Now!
He snatches the ring off the man's finger, then grabs the injured Nagini. He bolts out the front door. The serpents from the vines fall to the ground, joining the snakes in the front yard. All of the eyes are locked on him. Draco grips his wand.
Bloody hell! He can't go around using magic in the Muggle World! He's trapped surrounded by snakes!Where will he go? Where's there to go?! Is... Is he going to die here?
Draco leaps towards the dried-up well, and grabs that old broom for a last line of defense. When he touches the broom, his navel writhe from the inside. The broom thrusts Draco into the air, reality wrapping against him.
He shots into the sky with a whirlwind of colors and locations flashing towards him. Before Draco could make sense of anything, he's slammed into a brick wall in a back alley.
"Ugh..." Draco groans, nauseously.
The broom... It's a port key.
Draco falls to the ground as the world returns to normal. He covers his mouth. He really didn't feel like vomiting today. An owl flies above him pecking at the building's window. It magically opens and the creature hops in. Wait... Magic? He runs out the alleyway.
This is...
"Diagon Alley," he whispers.
Draco's knees turn to jelly. His hands shake. He opens his palm.
The Gaunt's Ring.
What did he just do?
Nagini hisses with pain. Draco shakes his head and scoops up her limp body. Riddle would most definitely kill him if anything happened to her.
"Tempus," he casts and the time appears before him.
The sun is already up. There's not much time left.
Draco stumbles down the street. Heading back to Hogwarts is his top priority. However, unbeknownst to him, a figure watches him from the shadows. The eyes from Draco lead to the sky.
Grindelwald grins, "Ah, Albus the day of your grand humiliation has finally come. Now... Which side will you choose, Malfoy?"
Notes:
I was tempted to write:
"HARRY... CARE FOR A LEMON DROP?!?!?!" Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.
Next chapter:
Things are going down.What do you think about Draco knowing Voldemort's past, or Harry's conversation with Dumbledore? What do you think Riddle was up to alone in the Chambers of Secrets?
Chapter 15: Vision Without Sight
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A soft humming vibrates through Harry's veins. He tries to find the sound, but his body is numb.
He can't move.
So, why isn't he afraid?
Soft lights in the evenly with the sounds. Then various figures dance before him. The two figures twirl and turns into...
Ron.
Hermione.
They are dressed in fantastic ballroom wear. Ron rests his hand Hermione's lower back as she warps her arm around his shoulder. Together they hold hands swaying along the humming. When their steps hit the ground, it reveals the tiles of Hogwarts.
The Hogwarts of his time.
The scene bursts into color. Candles float in the air next to thousands of exquisite decorations. All the professors and students are together enjoying the festivities. Draco spins and strikes a pose, causing a small crowd to surround him and chant his name. Everything is so warm and peaceful.
The sight etched into Harry's mind, but he turns to see...
Tom.
His presence is so refined, but at the same time unapproachable. The sight of him in a Muggle-styled suit brings Harry weak to his knees. Tom pauses then stares at Harry with his conceited smirk. He places down his crystal wine glass and makes his way over.
Tom bows. "Might I have this dance?" He extends his hand.
"Tom..."
"Riddle?" A voice calls out.
Huh? Riddle? He was calling out to Tom wasn't he? Now, are they calling for Tom or him?
"Riddle," the other voice says louder.
Light pierces through Harry's eyes lids, only to be surrounded by Lestrange, Avery, Black, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott, and Malfoy.
He snaps upwards.
Did he fall asleep in the Slytherin Common Room? Wonderful, now all of Slytherin is probably wondering why the Great Riddle is out cold on the armchair. Harry is literally ruining his reputation in his sleep.
Harry subtly wipes away the drool from the corner of his mouth. He fixes his collar, trying to save any respect the future Death Eaters had for their leader.
"Is there a problem?" He says Tom Riddle-y.
"N-not at all," Avery trails off. "Riddle... Are you feeling unwell?"
"I..." He rubs his eyes, "Must have taken the wrong potion while I was waiting for Draco," He lies easily.
Looks like the Veritaserum wore off.
"D-Draco?" Mulciber asks.
The others wear a similar shocked expression on their faces. All except Malfoy. Did Tom call Draco, "Malfoy"? He distinctly remembered he called him "Draco". Harry internally bangs his head against the wall.
"Yes. I wish to speak... Exchange words with him. Does anyone know his whereabouts?" Harry asks.
Nott looks at Roiser and shakes his head. "I don't recall him returning--"
"I'll bring him to you," Lestrange cuts in with utter adoration.
He steps closer.
Too close.
"And once I have completed your order, might I be so bold to ask for a request, my Lord?" he whispers the title. Harry wills himself not to cringe. "It'll be honored for you to use my given name as well," he bats his eyes.
Woah. Lestrange's obsession with Tom would give Bellatrix a run for her money. Are all Lestranges completely bonkers for Tom Riddle? Or is it a power hungry perk? Harry could understand the admiration for Tom Riddle, but Voldemort? He really didn't want to think of the implications of the "Dark Lord" and the effects on followers. Although, he is a bit curious to see how a fight between the two Lestranges would turn out.
Wait, he hasn't said anything in a while. Harry shakes his head, "Perhaps in due time."
Lestrange's face falls. "Of course. I suppose only some are worthy of being called by name..." He trails off, mumbling "disgusting Evans" under his breath.
"Hey, I didn't ask him to-- Erm, I mean," Harry shifts uncomfortably, "H-Harry didn't ask to be named. He's a different... case."
Lestrange's face turns sour, as Black chuckles from behind. He places his hand on the armrest.
"Riddle, there is no need for justification, we understand your intrigue. Evans speaks your tongue. His physical attributes are sublime. Not to mention his demeanor makes him much more endearing," he smirks only for Lestrange to glare. Black shrugs, "But in the end, he's only to alleviate your boredom."
Harry inwardly frowns. "Is that so?" He forces out, keeping his voice even.
"Of course, he'll never be anything more than just a Mudblood," Black smiles just like how Sirius used to. "Always Pure, my Lord."
One line, crumbled any respect Harry had left for him. Sure, Black looks like Sirius, but that's where the similarities end. The Black family's rotten motto... Everything is so messed up here. The way they talk about Muggle-borns, it's not right. Tom's followers are delusional! There has to be a way to make them see a different perspective, to make them change their minds! If Tom could, maybe so can they.
"Muggle-borns aren't lesser," Harry says dryly. He scoffs, "Have you forgotten our duel? Our powers were equal--"
"Until that monster mutilated your divine features!" Lestrange growls.
Harry flinches.
"Riddle, my Lord, Mudbloods like Evans deserves no mercy! They deserve nothing but torture! For him to stand proudly and gleefully over your tethered body is nothing less than despicable! He finds himself lucky for being expelled! For if he were here, I would have personally sought his atonement!"
Sectumsempra.
An onslaught of slices etching into Tom's body. His only movements were to wince in pain. His blood... His blood staining his shirt.
Harry did that to him.
"He's atoning..." Harry pauses, lamenting on his past actions. He looks out the window as the sun's rays slip inside. What is he doing? Times running out. He can't dwell on, well in, the past. They need to return home.
Wait, return?
"Nott, you said Draco didn't return?"
Nott nods cautiously, "Yes, his bed was empty all night."
All night? Did he stay to help Tom with the summoning circle? He couldn't disappear now. Not when they are so close to going home.
"Riddle," Malfoy pushes past Lestrange and Black to stand directly in front. "It's best you don't concern yourself with... Draco," he says with disdain.
Harry furrows his brows, "Why is that?"
"Opposing his outer appearance," Malfoy runs his finger through his platinum hair, "His far from a Malfoy."
"What?"
He does the stupid signature Malfoy's smirk, "There's a situation that needs to be brought to your attention. The one 'Draco Malfoy' has been using your divine power and influence as a shield for his nefarious deeds. He, along with Evans, don't belong. They seek something else, something that goes against our cause. It's best to be rid of Draco, especially, before he completes his plan of... Destroying the Malfoy family."
Harry's eyes widen. Be rid of him? How could he think--
"Potter, Abraxas knows we aren't from here. Not from another timeline, but how we are trying to get home."
His eyes widen, "How?"
Draco explains to him all the moments he slipped while in the presence of his grandfather. "And then he tried to..." He trails off.
"To?" He tilts his head to the side.
"No, it's nothing." Draco shoots him away.
Back then Draco's own grandfather... Is trying to kill him?
No.
"Impossible..." Harry accidentally mumbles out loud.
Malfoy stands, "It's true! He positioned himself in support of Muggles. Muggles! Then colludes with the Mudblood Evans? No true Pureblood, no true Malfoy, would ever do such a thing! Draco is far worse than the Mudbloods. He is a filthy Blood traitor! And he should--"
"Enough!" Harry shouts.
Objects swirl and around the room hitting the wall. Harry's magic oozes out.
Malfoy shuts his mouth, and the other Slytherins gasp about the sight.
"Malfoy," Harry looms over Malfoy. Thank Merlin for Tom's height. "Don't you dare speak about him that way! You are in one of the most proud and prominent families of the Wizarding World, yet rejecting your own flesh and blood?! Draco Malfoy is far beyond where you stand! He will never destroy the Mal-- No, his family!"
"Riddle, I--" Malfoy stutters, bowing down. "I don't dare to question your intelligence, nor your judgment, my Lord."
Baffled, Harry steps back. They still... He takes a deep breath, he needs to calm down. He forces himself to nod, "I... Good."
The tension in the room eases. Almost as if they all think everything he said was some sort of test. Testing their loyalty towards Tom.
"I suppose you are right, Avery," Harry coughs. "I am a bit unwell... Please inform the professors, I'll be resting."
Lestrange snaps forward, "Riddle, I shall accompany you--"
"No," Harry snaps back, gathering his belongings. He leaves before anything else could happen. However, unbeknownst to Harry, Malfoy's eyes darken towards his "Dark Lord".
Strings of scaly bodies.
Scarlet, green, brown, black.
They were everywhere.
Their fangs, then Nagini's fangs... How she sank deep into the madman's neck. Her poison pulsing through his body. His skin losing all pigmentation, and his veins turning pitch black.
Did he die?
Did he kill him?
Draco squeezes his eyes shut. He didn't even care what shop he runs into, anything will be fine as long as it connects to Hogwarts. If he causes a commotion, he doesn't care. Draco shouts throwing the powder to the ground. He candles Nagini's injured body in his arm and with his free hand he clenches that bloody stupid ring. He teleports back to Hogwarts, but the impact flings him out of the fireplace slamming into the back wall.
"Bloody hell," He hisses, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Young Malfoy?"
Draco jolts.
Out of all the rooms to Floo to, of course it had to be his. The one he has to...
"Dumbledore," He whispers.
Dumbledore's eyes widen. After a moment of dreadfully awkward silence his eyes narrow. As if he knew something Draco didn't. He hums lightly, placing the feather back in the ink, shuffles the pile of paper, and pets the phoenix.
What the hell? His reaction, or lack of reaction, of finding a student, a Slytherin student, coming out of his fireplace is so lackluster.
Feeling the dagger stares, Dumbledore glances downwards, "My... Riddle's familiar, isn't it? She doesn't look well."
Dumbledore waves his wand. Nagini floats from Draco's arm to the desk. He glares at her and hesitates his grip. However, the old coot then taps his wand against the table and one of the drawers pops open. A reddish-green potion glides towards him. He uncaps the glass and pours a stream of liquid onto Nagini's scales. Her discolor bruise slowly fades away. He places her in the desk, and she slowly slithers her way to Draco coiling around his neck.
From what he could gather, Dumbledore absolutely loathe Riddle, so did he help...
"Sir--"
"Would you care for a Sherbet lemon?"
Draco gapes, "What does that have to do with anything?! You--"
"Young Malfoy," he says sternly. "From what I gathered, you've again left Hogwarts grounds without the professor's permission, falsified or otherwise. I can only speculate your actions coincide with both Riddle and Potter. I urge you to consider the consequences your actions shall produce, for once I decide to intervene... I will decide if you deserve mercy." Dumbledore waves his hand and his door opens.
"You're dismissed."
Draco's jaw opens slightly, but no word escapes. He stands up and wipes the dust from his cloak. He stumbles out of Dumbledore's office into the corridors of Hogwarts.
Dumbledore knows Potter's true name. What does it mean? Does he know they are from the future? The consequences... What consequences? They are finally going home, aren't they? So why... Why is there a foreboding feeling of dread?
"Draco."
Draco snaps his head back only to find Riddle behind him. Looking relieved?
Nagini hisses and Riddle laughs shaking his head. She crawls off of Draco's shoulder to be picked up by Riddle. "She likes you."
What? It seems genuine with no undertones.
"Uh, Riddle," Draco clenches the ring. "It was a difficult task, but I have done. Well, I have completed--"
"Woah, woah," Riddle raises his palms up. "Calm down. Draco, it's me," He smiles.
"Calm down," Potter covers his ears. "If I can Polyjuice potion Riddle, I can cover for you both. I'll act as him for all his classes while he works on the summon circle."
Potter.
Humiliation swells in the pit of his stomach, and he shoves the ring inside his back pocket. "Of course, it's you! Who else would it bloody be?! Oh, how clever, using his skin to walk amongst the masses!"
Potter, wearing Riddle's mask, makes a pitiful expression. He reaches out, "Draco... Are you alright?"
"Bloody fantastic!" He slaps Potter's hand away. Knowing full well the consequences, if he had done that to Riddle. "How could I not be? After all, after a lovely night, the oaf Dumbledore referred to you by your surname! Now, I have the honor to see your pathetic words come out of his mouth!"
"I..."
Draco bites back his tongue. "Whatever, let's just go."
Potter nods, but doesn't move a muscle.
"Ugh," Draco scratches the back of his head. "Well? Go on! I can't be seen walking in front of Riddle."
"R-right."
Potter moves leads them both to the girl's lavatory. Several times on the way there, Potter would turn back towards him. Using Riddle's eyes to look at him with guilt and concern.
Stupid Potter.
With a few charms they make it inside without being detected. Most students are in their classes by now anyway. Then, like before Potter hisses at the faucets causing the hidden room to reveal itself. They head down the blackened tube into the tunnels.
Unlike before Potter stops at every cross section to squint. Nagini would hiss at him, but he shakes his head heading in the complete opposite direction. Where was his familiarity he had before?
"We passed through here already! Are we lost--"
Potter grasps the filthy walls and his face starts bubbling. Even Nagini is taken aback. It was like watching little slugs move from underneath his skin. Riddle's features melt off causing Potter's height to shrink down, and his eyes return green.
The Polyjuice potion is over.
Potter coughs, squinting more than before. He moves Nagini to his side, so he can grab his bag. He huffs lightly, filtering through all his belongings.
"Ugh!" Draco snatches the bag away. He pushes past Potter's Cloak and raggedy Potion's Book to his glasses. He brushes Potter's bangs aside and shoves the glasses on his face. Draco sees the exact moment Potter's eyes dilate. His vision is refocusing. Good, now they speed up the pace. Before Draco can pull away, Potter grabs him.
"I had this for too long. This belongs to you," he takes off something and places it in Draco's palm.
His Prefect pin.
...It's been ages since he last wore it. Back in the ceremony, only a select few from each House, worthy enough to become of Prefect. When he was chosen he was on cloud nine. That look on Potter's face when he received nothing. Back then before all the Time Madness.
Potter squeezes his hand for comfort.
"You've always been a snobby, bloody git, you know that? Vile, cruel, brilliant. The epitome of a Slytherin. One who did things I wholeheartedly disagree with. But... Somehow it helped me. When you challenged me, and it made me grow. I hope I did the same... Tomorrow, when everything goes back to normal, will we go back to Hogwarts like this never happened?"
Potter pauses and shakes his head.
"It a terrible thought, but... I think I was relieved that you were one stuck with me." He sighs, "Draco Malfoy. I want to say is... Thank you. Not sure what will happen next, but I hope it works out. And I'd be glad to call you a friend."
Hope...
Draco's throat dries out. What could he say to that?
"You don't have to say anything," Potter gently smiles.
Like he will listen to Potter's orders. "Potter, I--"
"Harry."
Potter and Draco's turn towards the shadows.
"Tom?"
Riddle steps into the light with a sly grin on his face. His Slytherin's tie is shoved loosely in his pants pocket next to his wand. His other pocket filled with bulky papers? His collar is unkept with the top three buttons unbuttoned. His white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows with red stains at the helm. Riddle's robes are nowhere in sight. Draco hasn't seen Riddle this disheveled since he found him in the corridors. After Potter said he and Riddle had intercourse--
Nagini hisses in delight. Riddle walks closer to pet her head. He picks her up only to relay her on Draco's shoulders. Then shoving him aside.
Potter's pupils are blown wide open. He can't stop gawking at Riddle's exposed chest, until he accidentally makes eye contact. He coughs bashfully and turns away. Riddle scoffs, lifting Potter's chin back to him.
"You didn't do anything naughty Polyjuice as me, did you?"
Potter's cheeks burn bright red. "It wasn't naugh--"
"Because," Riddle leans down closer, "There's no need. All you have to do is ask."
"H-have you completed the summoning circle or not?" Harry turns away.
Riddle sighs, "Such a spoil sport. Of course, I have. All that's left is to activate it underneath the shadow of totality."
"That's..." Potter looks at Draco and sighs in relief, "Good."
Riddle glares at Draco, but when their eyes meet he smirks. He turns back to Potter and caresses the Gryffindor's lips, "Well, darling. With your last moments here, why not spend it with me? I have acquired several new skills you will most certainly find... Pleasurable." Riddle says the last portion in Parseltounge.
A beet red Potter shoves Riddle back, "Enough!!" He pushes past them and sprints ahead.
Riddle chuckles watching Potter. Wait, is he checking him out?
Nagini wraps around Draco's neck once again and hisses towards Riddle. In return he hisses back.
"Well done," Riddle claps. "You fulfilled my request brilliantly."
"I..." A flash of Nagini's fangs sinking into the man's neck enters Draco's mind. He shakes his head pulling out the Gaunt's Ring.
"I did," Draco replies giving Riddle the ring.
Riddle lifts up the ring to his eyes and inspects the intricate details of the sharp gold band, and the large black stone set as the center piece.
"How wonderful," Riddle puts the ring in his pocket instead of putting it on.
That's odd. Why would he--
"Draco, do you plan on staying here?" He asks further ahead. When did he get there?
Draco shakes his head, "Of course not."
It's close, in a few moments, they will be leaving.
Harry makes a mad dash back up to the girl's bathroom. Tom was too close. Always too close! He bites his lips. Did Tom know what Harry made him say? Does he really want to do all the things he wrote in his diary? Harry covers his face, blushing wildly.
"He can't be serious!" His screams in his hands, "We are about to leave!"
Leave?
Leave...
That's right.
After today, Harry will never see Tom again...
Harry walks over to the sink and hangs his glasses on his shirt. He splashes the cool water on his face.
"Well, well, if you were so bored from waiting, perhaps you shouldn't have run ahead," Tom teases.
Harry couldn't help, but to stare at Tom. When would the Great Tom Riddle ever be satisfied looking like that? He really changed. Now whether to be for good or bad, Harry could only hope for the best. From the corner of his sight, Draco climbs out of the tube.
That's right.
He made a promise to that annoying bloody git, and he intends to keep it.
They are going home.
Harry dries his face with his robe, then puts back on his glasses. He quickly rummages through his bag pulling out the Invisibility Cloak. He wraps the cloak around his shoulder, extending both ends outwards like an open curtain.
Tom raises his eyebrow.
Draco looks at Tom then looks back towards him. "Potter, what are you doing?"
"Well... We can't let Hogwarts see the Great Tom Riddle in such an un-pristine form. And I have been expelled. So it's best if we both stay hidden."
Draco jaw drops, but Harry turns to Tom. He has never seen that stunned expression yet. Maybe he regrets not exploring more Polyjuiced as him.
Tom exhales through his nose, running his fingers in-between his hair. "I suppose my appearance is less than stellar." He walks over to Harry looking at the length of the Invisibility Cloak. "My, seems awfully small."
"Wow, are you saying you don't want to? I'm hurt," Harry scoffs in reply.
Tom clicks his tongue, "When did I say that?"
He stands behind Harry taking the cloak from his hands. Tom flips the cloth, and it flutters behind them both. The fabric falls on Tom's head like a hood, and the rest drapes over his shoulders. Tom hovers over Harry's figure, then crosses it down around his waist. Tom leans his head on top of Harry's head and presses his body against his back.
"It's a bit tight, but I knew it would fit," he whispers into Harry's ear.
A squeak slips from Harry's lips. Did he have to phrase it like that?
Tom chuckles, "Shall I place a Silencing Charm?"
Harry peeks at Draco's uncomfortable reaction. "Uh, that is... Draco needs to be our guide, so we'll just be quiet as we walk."
"Why Harry, can you stay quiet?"
Instead of answering, Harry rolls his eyes and pulls down the front of the cloak to completely cover their faces.
Draco awkwardly coughs, leaving the washroom first. It's a little difficult, but Harry and Tom together walk behind him.
The walk through the corridors never left longer. Is he heart beating too loud? Harry wills himself not to make any sudden movements. It's best not to think about how it feels to have Tom-- No, think of something horrid, like Snape, or potions. Veritaserum, Polyjuice, Amortentia. Amortentia? Love potions...
What exactly can counteract a love potion? Of course there must be an antidote, but to create one as a Muggle is nearly impossible. Wait... Muggle inventions. His contacts? The silicon in the contacts could counteract specific parts of magic. It's proven by Grindelwald's True Loyalty and against Tom's Legilimency. Tom can't experience love, but if he eats the contacts then maybe--
Tom snorts lightly, "Amusing."
Harry turns to the side to glare, "Are you using Legilimency?" He accidently says back in Parseltounge.
"Of course not darling," Tom slurs. "I am simply in tuned with how utterly absurd Gryffindor's thoughts can be. Especially yours."
"And you Slytherins are so annoying," Harry snaps back, with no real bite to his words.
In return, Tom briefly nuzzles into the back of Harry's neck.
Heat floods Harry's cheeks. Sure, he's embarrassed, and maybe slightly aroused. But there's a sense of comfort? The way Tom's arms are wrapped around him. It's secure. How they are both hidden from the rest of the world. The warmth from his chest seeping to Harry's back. The soft beat of his heart. He was sent to stop the Dark Lord Voldemort, but now he's just with Tom Riddle.
Then...
In a few more minutes, this will all be gone.
Harry squeezes Tom's arms.
"Harry?"
"It's nothing," he pulls Tom's arms closer to his chin.
He'll cherish these final steps.
Potter's and Riddle's murmuring stops. Did they abandon him and Nagini for one final tryst before they leave? Draco shivers at the implications.
"Malfoy?" Professor Slughorn calls out. "Why aren't you in class?"
Crap.
"Well, sir. That is..." Nagini hisses around his neck, and soft magic brush against roots sticking out of Professor Slughorn's pouch.
"I was sent by Riddle to obtain more ingredients for your class, sir."
A wave of glee travels through Professor Slughorn's face. "How absolutely wonderful! Seventy points to Slytherin! Even in his sicken state, he performs his Prefect and Head Boy duties! Offering Nagini to help accompany you. I have no doubts, Riddle has already caught the vile potion delinquent! That assailant must have been the one to harm Riddle in return..."
What is he even on about? However, Draco could use this to his advantage.
Draco nods, "Perhaps. In any case, Riddle said there are some herbal roots... and Boom berries. A-along the outer stone walls. I can harvest them and bring them to you."
Slughorn strokes his chin. "Hmm, those ingredients may have been picked clean... On this side of the wall that is."
"Sir, are you saying..."
"Young Malfoy you have my permission to gather more ingredients beyond Hogwarts grounds. There are mint leaves in the field towards the back. Ah, but to traverse far out now. Now, off you go."
Draco smirks. He bows leaving Nagini dangling from his neck, "Thank you sir."
Down the hallways and past the doors, Draco leaves the grounds of the Care of the Magical Creatures, and makes it beyond Hogwarts' stone gates to an open field. He stops as the breeze hits his face.
"Nice work," Potter's voice echoes to him.
Suddenly, Riddle and Potter appear before him. Riddle snaked around Potter's small figure, and Potter hesitantly lets go. He shoves the cloak back into his bag. Just as the sky changes.
The eclipse is starting.
Sight dims, causing the hues of the earth shift ever so slightly. The barks of the trees seem darker and the green more dull. The moon is slowly moving in front of the sun. But if Draco stares any longer his vision would definitely become like Potter's.
From his pocket, Riddle pulls out a leather book, one Draco has never seen before. He flips through the pages until he finds the Runes. Riddle grabs his wand gestures in a circular motion. A portion of the grass freezes, as the rest sway by the wind. Those unmoving grass morph down to their roots, forming a perfect circle in the field.
Riddle summons the Runes from the parchment. With a single flick of his wand all the symbols transcribe into the circle. He turns to Potter with a possessive gaze. Potter nods and extends his palm. Riddle traces it lightly before using a spell to cut into his flesh.
Potter flinches as one drop of his blood falls onto the magical ring causing all the symbols to light up.
"How..." Draco says below a whisper.
Riddle lifts Potter's hand to his lips, and licks his wound. Potter blushes as Riddle wraps his tie around Potter's palm. He brings Riddle's tie to his mouth and brushes it against his lips.
"I guess, this is it. I'll miss yo..." Potter exhales. "I hope, this time, you get the happiness you deserve. Goodbye Tom."
"Harry," Riddle caresses Potter's cheek.
Potter shakes his head and pulls away. "Come on, Draco," he forces himself to smile with tears on the verge of falling. "Let's go home."
Draco nods, letting Nagini slither onto the ground. This is it. He finally gets to go home. He'll get his life back. His mother. His father. All the duties awaiting him from the Dark Lord... Draco hesitantly steps closer to the Ancient Runes.
"Ah, ah."
A blasting spell lands in front of him knocking him back.
Swirling darken clouds surround the treeline, leaving the eclipse's shadow undisturbed. Legs appear from Draco's vision. He has been in this position before. Screaming in pain, next to this man's feet. Draco slowly looks upwards to see...
Gellert Grindelwald.
"Well, well Malfoy. It's decision time," the Dark Lord mocks.
"Draco!" Potter shouts, running towards him. Two blasts aim at Potter, but Riddle holds him close blocking the attacks.
"Malfoy? Lestrange?" Riddle growls at the two assailants. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"Riddle," Lestrange gasps, until he sees how Riddle wraps his arms around Potter. "Evans..."
Draco's eyes widen as his grandfather stands beside Grindelwald.
Abraxas...
"Riddle, this is for your benefit. Your cause will only be secure after you finally see them for what they are!"
The Dark Lord places his hand on Abraxas's shoulder and smiles at Draco.
"My vision reigns true. Here a Malfoy does stand beside me. Honestly, it's a shame it wasn't you," Grindelwald looks at Abraxas and back at Draco. "I suppose it's redundant if I have two of you. You could have had it all Malfoy. Oh, well. Avada Kedav--"
A bolt of lightning strikes between Draco's feet, before the sound bearer could break. He is a distance away from Grindelwald.
When did he get here?
When did he even close his eyes?
A strong arm holds him tightly placing him back in his feet.
"Time Magic," His savior huffs.
Draco stares in disbelief, "Professor Dumbledore?"
"Albus," Grindelwald moans. "You have finally come. Oh... How I longed for this day. I can't wait to see your expression," he licks his lips.
"Grindelwald, I have no desire for you," Grindelwald flinches at Dumbledore's harsh words, but he continues, "However, I will not allow the harm of innocent students." The future Headmaster pushes Draco closer towards the Summon circle.
"Go!"
Two immense powers strike one another. A duel he only read about is happening before his very eyes. Each spell casts shakes the core of the earth. The past Dark Lord and the future Headmaster. Their battle will define the ages to come.
Draco dashes towards the runes as the shadows grow darker and darker. Both Riddle and Potter encounter Lestrange, but move in the same direction. Before he could make it to them a spell slides past him barely missing his head.
A familiar magic, one Draco knows all too well.
"Abraxas..."
His grandfather scowls back, "Oh, look. The little Blood traitor! How do you intend to use Time to destroy my family's name!"
Draco steps backwards. He didn't need to fight, he just needs to get inside the circle. Draco squeezes his wand tightly.
"For you to even think such a thing... Why? Why align yourself with the likes of him? I thought your loyalty was towards Riddle."
Abraxas scoffs, "This 'Dark Lord' is merely a stepping stone for the true Dark Lord's to rise to power. But first he needs to get rid of those it led him astray! Confringo!"
Draco dodges rolling closer towards the Summon circle. He is only a few steps away! However, a few steps is nothing compared to a mighty Malfoy wielding a deadly weapon. He's almost there. What else can he do?
Bloody hell.
Taking a page from Potter's book, Draco did the most annoying thing he could think of.
"Expelliarmus!"
Abraxas' wands flings out of his hand across the field.
He points his wand at his grandfather slowly backing away. "Abraxas Malfoy. You are a true Malfoy. One whom I have respected since the moment I've ever known about you... Uphold our legacy. Take pride in knowing you have achieved your goal. I'll be going now."
His foot almost enters into the circle, but Grindelwald roars with visceral. He chants a spell that produces small specs of red and black dust. It slowly makes it into the air.
His magic is calm.
Almost too calm...
Hairs stand from Draco's skin and he yells faster that he could move.
"Protego!!"
He tried to cover his grandfather. The spell was a second too late. One red dust lands on the tall grass causing entire field to catch on fire.
"Abraxas!" Draco rushes to his side. His chest beats loudly competing with his panting. Damn it. Damn it all! He wasn't able to shield Abraxas's legs. The flames travel up his body.
"No!!" He screams, as Abraxas shrieks in pure torture.
"Aguamenti!!!!"
A blast of water surrounds Abraxas, choking the fire into oblivion. However, the damage to his legs... It's already done.
"No..." Draco falls, desperately holding on to his hand.
"You..." Abraxas gasps.
"You saved me... But... Why? I was-- I have been..."
"You are of Malfoy's blood, my blood! My..." Draco lowers his head, "...grandfather."
"What?" His grandfather's eyes widen. Past inconsistencies connect like pieces of a puzzle. He turns to the glowing Runes. "Time magic... Grandson..."
Abraxas shakes his head, "I didn't-- What have I done? Draco, Draco, promise me. Swear to me! No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family!"
"Y-yes," Draco shakes. He forces himself to stand. "Come on, we have to heal--"
Riddle's body collides into Draco's, forcing them both into the Rune circle. The symbols glow brightly from burning embers. A burst of power blinds his vision. The runes surround both himself and Riddle. A powerful impact shoots them down towards the ground before yanking them into the air.
1942 shatters.
Wait, no!
"Draco Malfoy? Draco Malfoy," that familiar voice whispers his name.
"Why, this is Tom Riddle..." the other says in confusion.
"Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter?" Both voices chant in unison.
Those voices again?! Who are they?!
Before Draco could demand answers, his existence morphs inwards and outwards. This didn't happen last time, did it? His consciousness tethers from his subconsciousness. His limbs attach and detached, flopping about, forcing its way forward in time.
Is he sleeping?
Awake?
What's going on?!
Draco' s eyes droop down. No, he won't let it! He needs to keep his eyes open!
He will.
Colors intertwine with his memories creating a kaleidoscope of nonsense! A shard snaps into place ripping his soul downwards, his body has no choice, but to follow it. Draco blinks, but the moment he opens his eyes, he is slammed to the ground.
"Bloody hell..." Draco curses gripping the side of his head.
The room around him swirls.
This room...
It's...
Room of Requirements. Hogwarts of 1996, he's finally home--
Draco is ripped from his thoughts as hands pull his collar choking him. The top of a wand is pressed against his throat, his eyes widen.
"R-Riddle? How did--"
"Where is Harry?!"
Notes:
Need to revamp the Tags because technically Part One of Tempus Quest ends here.
However, I don't want to split it into a series because I'd like the 2024 New Year's resolution challenge all together. Also this would be a very cruel ending. But don't worry more is to come!
Next chapter:
Draco's woes in the present, and finally Tom's POV.
Chapter 16: Softly Whispering
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
An intense breeze passes through the tall grass, making the field move like waves. Symbols of the rune shine like embers by a single drop of blood. Only a pain in Harry's palm, his senses focus on Tom's warm hands. It feels good, but painful in a different way.
This is it.
Harry forces himself to pull away, "Come on, Draco," he smiles, ignoring the verge of tears. "Let's go home."
"Ah, ah."
A blast hits Draco knocking him back. Swirling darken clouds surround the treeline, leaving the eclipse's shadow undisturbed.
"Draco!" Harry runs to protect him from Grindelwald. Two spells fly past the corner of his eyes, but Tom shields him from the attacks.
"Malfoy? Lestrange?" Tom growls, "What is the meaning of this?!"
"Riddle," Lestrange gasps with pure glee, until he makes eye contact with him. "Evans..." He spits with hatred.
"Riddle, this is for your benefit. Your cause will only be secure after you finally see them for what they are!" Malfoy shouts.
Tom tightens his arm around Harry's waist, his hand hovering over his wand. Grindelwald, Malfoy, and Lestrange are working together?
Grindelwald rests his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, grinning at Draco. "My vision reigns true. Here a Malfoy does stand beside me. Honestly, it's a shame it wasn't you," Grindelwald looks between the two. "I suppose it's redundant if I have two of you. You could have had it all Malfoy. Oh, well. Avada Kedav--"
Draco!
Tom grabs Harry into his shoulder, just as a bolt of lightning strikes down. Harry squeezes his eyes shut as a bright and thunderous roar echoes across the lands. A moment stunned is a moment to regret. Harry snaps his eyes open to see Professor Dumbledore holding Draco securely.
"Albus," Grindelwald moans. "You have finally come. Oh... How I longed for this day. I can't wait to see your expression," he licks his lips.
"Grindelwald, I have no desire for you," Grindelwald flinches but the future Headmaster continues, "However, I will not allow the harm of innocent students." He pushes Draco towards the Summon circle.
"Go!"
Professor Dumbledore's words aren't only directed towards Draco.
"Harry," Tom's voice brushes against his ear. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine--"
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!!!!" Lestrange shrieks. He hurls spell after spell.
"Protego!" Harry counters.
Lestrange's spell counters back at him knocking him to the ground. He screams, clawing his neck and pulling his hair.
"Riddle," he gasps.
"Riddle, my Lord," he desperately cries. "You are the most brilliant, amazing, and powerful! I have always been most loyal and subservient to you, have I not?! So why? Why?! Why him?! Why does he deserve to be called by name?! What does this Mudblood have that I lack?! I'll praise you, worship you, pleasure you! All that you wish, I'll give you my Lord!! I am much more than he will ever be!!!!"
"Though some are changed by love..." Dumbledore starts. His gaze back on Harry, "Others can be blinded by it."
Harry grips at his bag's strap.
"Lestrange," Tom says in a dignified tone, letting go of Harry. He steps closer. Immediately, Lestrange falls to his knees and grips at Tom's hand.
"My Lord. My Lord!" He slurs and moans. "I knew you would see through his deceptions! You will--"
"Hush," Tom whispers, patting his head. "You desire to know?"
Lestrange nods adamantly.
"Your skills in the Dark Arts... The weight of your family's name... Your most admirable attribute... Is your deviation," Tom leans down, leaving Lestrange absolutely breathless.
Tom smirks.
"But you'll never match Harry."
As Harry's eyes widen, Lestrange's face falls, "What? Riddle, I don't understand."
Tom scoffs and yanks his hand back. "It's nothing," he sighs, walking back to Harry. "Nothing you could understand." He wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders.
"Your divine tongue..." He snaps his head to Harry's expression. "He understo- No, no, no, no, no! NOOO!!!! Riddle! Riddle, my Lord! Please! I can learn-- Try to-- Tom! Tom!!!" He begs. Lestrange collapses down, banging his fist against the ground.
Harry reaches out his hand, "Lestrange, I--"
Tom grabs his hand instead, "The eclipse."
He breaks his gaze from Lestrange pitiful cries. "I... We need to find Draco."
"Near the Runes," Tom points.
Grindelwald roars with visceral. Suddenly, small specs of red and black dust. It slowly makes it into the air.
"Protego!" Tom shouts pulling them to the Ancient runes. One red dust lands on the tall grass, then the entire field catches fire.
Harry looks back at the raging battle between Professor Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Two immense powers striking back at one another. A streamline of an electrifying spell is parted like the opening of a curtain. With each attack, the counter is tenfold. Awe and terror fills his bones. An extraordinary duel that will never match again. The final battle that is supposed to happen three years from now, is happening before his very eyes.
Grindelwald's spell dissipates by Dumbledore's magic. Dumbledore looks over to Harry's direction, the back at his former lover.
"Gellert. Your reign of terror ends today, whether or not my hands crumple into dust. I swear, the Dark Lord shall be no more!"
The earth shakes as a beam of light shoots from Dumbledore's wand. Grindelwald hisses matching his power. The streak breaks off, hurling an attack straight towards Tom.
"Look out!"
Harry tackles Tom down, away from the flames. They roll closer towards the Summon Runes. It's difficult for Dumbledore to split his attention for keeping the students safe and defeating Grindelwald. But that spell was close.
Too close.
"The Dark Lord shall be no more."
He wasn't only referring to Grindelwald, was he? In Dumbledore's eyes, Tom poses as an equal threat.
One who cannot be changed.
One he needs to stop.
Dumbledore's goal matches with his mission. To travel back to 1942 and stop Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort. Dumbledore won't see the little orphan boy who gained comfort by the fantastical magic. The boy who became misguided by the Dark Arts, but managed to push pass immortality to change his future. The one who to him...
Tom lifts Harry's chin up, "What I feel for you surpasses any other emotions ever expressed before. This yearning, this urge, this passion. Neither Muggle nor Wizard have come close to experiencing this. What I feel is solely created for you! I..."
A chaste kiss falls on Harry's lips.
"You."
"Tom, I..." Harry mumbles.
"Harry?"
Tom brushes his cheek, and Harry takes his hand, drawing him into a tender kiss. He didn't know how to convey it to Tom. All his responsibilities, fear, hurt, rage, embarrassment, anything, everything! Harry pulls back gazing into Tom's eyes.
"You..." he completes. The kiss was brief, but his feelings are clear.
There Draco is, a bit far behind Tom. The eclipse won't last long. They won't make it...
But, they can.
"Flipendo!"
Harry shouts, hurling Tom's body into Draco's, causing both into the Rune circle. Suddenly, the symbols glow brightly. A burst of power activates spilling into the sky. The light meets the eclipse's shadow. Ancient runes surround Draco and Riddle. A powerful impact shoots them down towards the ground before yanking them into the air. Their magical core burns bright green before completely disappearing.
The summon circle is a two-way gate between time. Go in, and go out. Once it trapped himself and Draco here, but now it'll save Draco and Tom.
If Harry is stuck in 1942, then so be it. This is the sole outcome, the best solution. Draco didn't ask to be stuck fifty years in the past, nor to be tortured by Grindelwald, or insulted by his grandfather. After everything Draco has been through, he suffered enough. He is finally home. Back where he belongs. And Tom...
Tom is safe.
He will learn about himself, about how he could've become. Although there's no guarantee he'll stay in the righteous path, but with his skills and charisma, he'll be a shoehorn for the next Minister for Magic. No doubt, he'll be able to defeat Voldemort. He has inside knowledge of the Dark Lord's past and... He's unbelievably brilliant. Maybe in the future he'll finally get the happiness he deserves.
Please let everyone be okay.
Ron...
Hermione...
Harry shakes his head and runs to the injured Malfoy. Even though he's one of the worst Malfoy's Harry has ever met, it doesn't mean he should die by those hands. Harry moves his bag aside to rips off his robe and props it under Malfoy. He pulls his tie off and wraps it around Malfoy's leg, just like how Tom tries it around his palm.
"Evans," Malfoy bites back the pain. "Draco... Riddle... Where did--"
"They're safe now." Harry casts several protective charms from the raging battle. Then he looks through his bag for any potions, when he doesn't find any he settles for a rudimentary healing spell.
"He is far beyond where I stand... Draco is... Is my grandson, isn't he?"
Harry doesn't respond, placing back on his bag, and transfiguring a rock into a crutch for Malfoy to hold on to. "Can you get up?"
He nods lightly forcing himself upwards. Malfoy grunts in pain, but his legs still manage support his body. He stares at him.
"Evans, no... Potter, wasn't it? Seeking aid from a Mudblood. How dreadful." Harry frowns and he chuckles lightly, looking at the runes. "Time magic. Where does that leave you?"
Harry bites his lip, "T-that doesn't matter. We have to get you to safety--"
Grindelwald screams, and from his curses it appears.
An army.
Grindelwald's army.
Dozen of his followers surround the premise, the light from the flames cases shadows into the sky. Merging into the eclipse.
"Albus..." Grindelwald slurs his name. "You could have had riches, powers, fame, glory... Me. Together we could have demolished the Statute of Secrecy and ruled over the Muggle and Wizarding World. But you chose to fight. You chose this. Let it be known what I do next is all your doing!!"
Dumbledore stands across his former lover, oddly calm. Grindelwald's followers draw in closer, all aiming their wands at Dumbledore. He raises up his wand, causing the wind to pick up. One leaf flies high into the air, aligning with the eclipse.
"Now!"
Aurors fall from the sky blasting their attacks at Grindelwald's army. The appears from no where, it's like watching fireworks shot up hen burst into colors. Dumbledore casts his spell straight towards Grindelwald, and he is knocked back when it lands.
"ALBUS!!!!" He creams hurling at spell after spell.
Harry and Malfoy could only watch as they both ascend into the sky.
"Thank Merlin..." Harry whispers. "Malfoy it'll be fine now! The Aurors will come. We are safe now--"
Sharp force pierces into Harry's lower abdomen.
"Huh?"
Harry looks down at the dagger thrust into his stomach.
"Lestrange?!" Malfoy shouts, "What are you--"
"SHUT UP!!!" He twists the blade. "Bleed. Bleed Evans!! Bleed how you made Tom did!!! You took my Tom away from me!! You dare SOIL his lips!!!! To die by magic is too gracious for a filthy Mudblood!! I HATE YOU!!! DIE EVANS!!!! DIEEE!!!"
Lestrange stabs forces blood into Harry's throat. He coughs out for air. Just then, Nagini flies from the burnt grass and latches her fangs into Lestrange's arm.
He shrieks, ripping his flesh and swatting her away. "Rotten snake!!" He stomps on her tail. "You think you are so special talking with Tom?! His devotion is MINE!!"
He grips Nagini's tail to stab her, but Malfoy kicks Lestrange away. He screams from the pain in his legs and Nagini curls herself around Malfoy for protection. Lestrange stumbles into the fire. He screams rolling into the flames more and more.
Harry grunts, falling down completely inside the Rune circle.
The runes glow once more, but instead of a bright shine, its light becomes dark red. His stab wound stops flowing and all of his blood travels to the cut at the palm of his hand. Once black outline turns red, shooting upwards into the sky. The solar eclipse's shadow matches the color of his blood. The fierce war comes to halt even Dumbledore and Grindelwald to cease fire.
"Ad iter non est liberum," a voice hums.
The symbols rise from the ground towards Harry's blood. They twirl around the oozing liquid, absorbing more, then growing bigger and bigger.
"Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis! Sanguis!"
"Harry!" Dumbledore screams. He could barely hear anything.
Imagine when they find him... Once the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One; now, a 1942 Hogwarts student, a casualty of the greatest battle of all time.
A red film covers Harry's vision of the world. His body feels weightless, like his mind is floating. Wonderful, now his vision is blurry.
1942 is shattering.
There's nothing.
Emptiness.
Void extends past everything.
Looking down Harry couldn't even see his hand, but he feels the blood flowing out of it.
"Harry Potter," one voice echoes.
"Harry Potter..." The other muses.
That's odd. Those voices sound very familiar.
"He's late," the first voice speaks up.
"He had to come, or the travel would all be nigh. Look he's tethering to life by a thread," the other hums.
"Red, red, red. What a feast to behold."
"Fate will be challenged."
"If he survives."
"Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter." They chant in unison.
Ugh.
Shut up.
Why do they keep calling his name? Harry clenches his fist. He's tired. Why won't they just let him sleep?
Just... Let... Him...
Sleep...
This isn't how Draco pictured this day would come. Ever since he was stuck in 1942 with bloody stupid Potter. The first day he was sure they'll be home by nightfall, he never expected their return home would take so long. Then once they return he could forget about the entire ordeal.
But...
They stayed.
They stayed in 1942 for too long, and now he can't forget. Everything that happened lingers in his mind.
The eclipse came just as predicted. So why is Potter nowhere in sight? How is Riddle here instead?
Here grasping his collar, ceasing his air flow.
"Where is Harry?!" Riddle shouts.
Draco gasps for what little air his can manage. "I...I don't--" he coughs.
A memory appears. After Potter punched him in the face.
"You were there last night, weren't you?! You followed me! Draco, you complete bloody git!! The summon circle wasn't made for two! It was my gateway between time! Go in and get out! Now, you're here! The bond is broken!!"
"It wasn't made for two..." He whispers.
Riddle lets him go.
"No... It isn't made for three... The summon circle was a two way gate. One," Draco points to himself.
His index finger points at Riddle.
"Two."
Potter is stuck in 1942.
Riddle grits his teeth, "Crucio--"
The Room of Requirement shakes. Its strength coming from the runs still etched into the floor. One of the runes's markings smears over, like ink on a page. The smearing becomes bubbling until the symbol bursts into nothing. In a few seconds, another marking does the exact same. Then another, and another.
What the hell?
The quakes come to a halt. Then a tiny red filament stems from the center of the circle. It's almost like a seedling. The filament sways back and forth, then it sprouts into a thread. It spews out of the ground like a ball of yard unraveling. Slowly, the thread becomes more like string, no, like rope, shooting upwards into the air. The intensity pulls out more and more material, causing it to spiral on the ground. A tug on the rope yanking the force downwards, but the magic resists.
Powerful tugs retract the rope, like children playing Tug of War. All the while more of the Ancient markings burst into oblivion. The magic spikes into the air, forcing the line up. At the end of the red rope is a Slytherin's tie?
Riddle's eyes widen, he grips rope and pulls.
An arm?
An arm Draco is familiar with. One he remembers reaching in the sky for the Golden Snitch.
Potter.
Draco wraps the rope once around his hands, pulling behind Riddle. Potter's head appears. His skin is deadly pale matching the Marvolo's son when Nagini bit him. Dark rings around his eyes, like he hasn't slept for weeks. Potter's very existence is being extracted from the fabric of time. Forcing fifty years to the present time. The Runes continue to explode acting as a time limit. If they can't make it Potter will be decapitate--
Riddle growls, pulling with full force. Immediately, shockwaves ripples across the room. Potter's body flies up and Riddle catches him before he can fall to the ground. The knotted ropes, tangled on each other surrounding them both.
The last Rune symbol breaks.
The red rope shakes...
Then turns into blood.
Blood gushes out from Potter's hand. The once green from the Slytherins's tie is now stained deep crimson. But more blood bleeds from Potter's torso. That injury... He was stabbed?
Potter doesn't move.
He doesn't even breathe.
Riddle carefully lifts Potter's body to his chest. He points his wand at his abdomen, like he is tracing over the wound.
"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur!"
The flow of blood eases, the gash is knitting itself together until the blood stops completely. Riddle wipes the blood from Potter's lip, then brushes his bangs from his forehead. He freezes.
However that spell wasn't one Draco is familiar with.
"--the same?" Riddle asks.
Draco shakes his head. Out of all the times be distracted. "What?"
Riddle growls at him. "The Hospital Wing, is it the same?!"
"Yes, but--"
Riddle doesn't listen.
He burst out of the room, carrying Potter in his arms. Draco sprints through the corridors of Hogwarts to match Riddle speed. Students are thrust into the walls. Riddle didn't spare anyone in his path. A surprised Crabbe and Goyle try to approach Draco, but he couldn't lose sight of Riddle. He didn't have the leisure in engaging in rumors about the powerful unknown student covered in bloody clothes, carrying an equally bloody Potter like his bride.
Riddle blasts the Hospital Wing's door open.
"Matron!" He shouts.
Madam Pomfrey lifts her head from her other patient, only to make eye contact with Draco. "Malfoy? Dear Merlin! Is that blood--"
Riddle throws Potter's bag to the floor, gently placing his fragile body on an empty bed. "His wounds have been sealed. However, it doesn't negate his excessive blood loss. Harry is top priority!"
Madam Pomfrey places her hand on Potter's forehead and waves her wand. Magic spills out surrounding Potter. "He's not--"
"Get the Blood-Replenishing Potions!" Riddle orders. He never raises his voice at Hogwart's staff before.
"Expecto Patronum!" A thin wisp of silver appears before them. "Headmaster, come to the Hospital Wing right away!!" Her silver midst springs up into the air and flies out of the room.
Riddle conjures a chair, despite the one across the room. He whispers in a hushed hiss, reaching out to Potter's pale cheek. Madam Pomfrey slaps his hand away. Pure unadulterated rage flashes into Riddle's eyes. His magic swells outwards and he grips his wand.
"You insolent--"
Madam Pomfrey crosses her arm, "Young man. I can see you care deeply about Harry, but I will not have you contaminating my patients!"
Bloody hell! Madam Pomfrey is going to get herself killed! Is there even a way Draco can deescalate the situation? He bows before Madam Pomfrey, and gestures towards Riddle.
"His appearance is unseemly, but he'll tidy up!" Draco shouts.
Riddle glares from Madam Pomfrey to himself, then settles on Potter's unconscious figure.
He growls, "Washroom towards the back?"
She nods in return.
"Pardon me." He rises from his seat.
Draco lets out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. A wind of magic brushes against his hands, willing off Potter's blood from his palms. Blood didn't make it anywhere else on him.
Madam Pomfrey frowns and waves her wand over Potter once more. "He's unresponsive... There must be--" She rushes to her office.
Draco stares down at Potter, laying deadly still on the bed. The stupid Gryffindor always using his "Chosen One" title to gain advantages, praise, and glory. Look at him now. Gaunt face, white skin, withering away. Draco slowly unravels Riddle's tie Potter's palm. A newfound scar rests on his hand. Draco clenches Potter's hand. Just like when...
Potter squeezes his hand for comfort.
"You've always been a snobby, bloody git, you know that? Vile, cruel, brilliant. The epitome of a Slytherin. One who did things I wholeheartedly disagree with. But... Somehow it helped me. When you challenged me, and it made me grow. I hope I did the same... Tomorrow, when everything goes back to normal, will we go back to Hogwarts like this never happened?"
Potter pauses and shakes his head.
"It's a terrible thought, but... I think I was relieved that you were stuck with me." He sighs, "Draco Malfoy. I want to say is... Thank you. Not sure what will happen next, but I hope it works out. And I'd be glad to call you a friend."
Draco's vision clouds, clearly must be from rage. He squeezes Potter's hand tighter, "This is pathetic! Get up, Potter! Get up!"
Before he could pull out his wand and force Potter awake, a hand falls on his shoulder. A hand belonging to none other than...
Professor Dumbledore.
This is a familiar Dumbledore, pruned and wrinkled by time. His hair is ghastly white and curled like vines. His beard is disgustingly long, and his eyes are full of pitiful arrogance that everyone mistakes for wisdom. The Dumbledore fifty years ago had more humanity to him. Expressions that Draco has a chance of deciphering. Like his dismissive nature concerning Slytherins, his scoured heartbreak by Grindelwald, or his obvious disdain for Riddle.
"That's enough. Draco, explain to me exactly how you two return..." Dumbledore's words come to a halt. Widen eyes in a daze as he stares at Riddle.
Rather, Riddle's gaze stays on Draco holding Potter's hand. Draco instantly lets go.
Riddle frowns, "You--"
"Stupefy," Dumbledore strikes.
Riddle falls flat on his back, completely stunned. Leaving only his eyes capable of any mobility. Dumbledore Accios Potter's Invisibility Cloak, from his bag underneath the bed, and tosses it over Riddle's limp body. Gravity takes hold of the cloth. As it falls onto Riddle the door slams open.
Professor Snape strides through the doors shaking in anger, he shoves Draco aside, hovering above Potter. Snape mumbles a spell which yanks Potter's collar. His pliant body flies upwards. Snape uses his right thumb to pry open Potter's mouth, and with his left hand he uncaps the potion. With one swift movement, he forces the potion's contents down Potter's throat. Draco lightly winces remembering True Loyalty. A bit of liquid pours down Potter's throat, then he finally shows movement.
Potter gags.
Snape covers his mouth, yanks his head back, ensuring potion downwards.
"Severus! Must you be so brutal?" Dumbledore scolds.
Snape huffs, "This is the most efficient method."
After shallowing every last drop, Snape drops Potter down, and he finally starts breathing on his own. Potter gains a shade of pigmentation back on his skin. Snape waves his wand over Potter's head casting a diagnostic spell.
"A Blood-Replenishing Potion needs to be administered every hour. If not, even shaking the boy won't cause his blood to flow. The brew is boiling as we speak," Snape scowls. "Draco."
Draco's eyes snaps towards the sound of his name.
Snape grabs his left arm, squeezing over his Dark Mark. "An inherit discussion must be made about your duties while you wear such a vital emblem." Snape points to his Prefect Pin, but they both know what he really meant.
Snape yanks Draco to the corridor. Draco looks back at Dumbledore and down below about where Riddle's hidden body landed.
Snape pushes Draco out the door and casts a muffling spell.
"Need I remind you, Potter's demise is solely the Dark Lord's honour. To claim such a victory for yourself won't curry any favors for the Malfoy family."
"I wasn't--"
"Spare me your excuses," Snape rubs his temple. "Your and Potter's absences from morning classes were a feeble, if not, pathetic attempt. To think a Slytherin would lack such subtlety."
What? Absences from morning classes, only morning classes? They had been gone for days! Days trapped in the hellish 1942, wondering if they would ever return home. How is it that days, weeks even, have passed? What's going on?
"Only mere hours?" Draco asks hesitantly.
Snape clicks his tongue. "Stick to your obligations, boy. If you are unable to follow orders, I will perform the due diligence. Perhaps the Dark Lord will seek pity on your incompetence rather than rage. Then your father will stay pliant in Azkaban, while you and your mother are spared from his wrath."
Feels like a bucket of cold water is poured on him. If he and Potter were actually gone for all those days, the Dark Lord would think he ran. Then his mother would face a tortuous punishment and his father would fully accept his fate. The Malfoy name would dissolve by Draco's hands.
All this time, Draco had been searching for a way back to the present, completely ignoring what he has to do in the future. He wasn't trapped in 1942, no... 1942 was a warning.
His father and mother are being consumed by embers, but stop at their faces. However, the image of Draco... Scorched. Burnt. A black mark seared into the canvas. Draco absently walks closer reaching out to the portrait. The flames started with him and slowly spread to his family.
...
Marvolo's son falls to the ground, "Malfoy... It's your turn to fall next!"
...
"You're weak. You're pathetic. You're a disgrace! A Pureblood saving those filthy muggles? A true Malfoy would never do such a thing. Your plans to destroy Malfoy's legacy with insolent stunts, won't get far. Blood traitor."
...
If he were to fail he would bring shame to the Malfoy family... He can't be the weakest link. Can't destroy his family's legacy!
...
Imprinted on Draco's arm is an intricate design of a snake weaving around a skull, protruding out its mouth. Draco's Dark Mark.
...
"Take pride in your family's name. It is a powerful one, not to be given to those unworthy. You are Draco Malfoy," Riddle hisses.
What if...
What if all of 1942 was merely a test?
A test to reevaluate where his loyal lies. An examination of what he wants, of what he needs to do. Would that mean here and now, neither Potter nor Riddle matter? After all, it never happened. Because...
Right now, his father is locked away in Azkaban.
Right now, his mother is at the mercy of his Dark Lord.
Right now, only Draco can prove the Malfoy's worth.
"I swore..." Draco glares at Snape, his wand trembles in his hand.
Abraxas shakes his head, "I didn't-- What have I done? Draco, Draco, promise me. Swear to me! No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family!"
"I swore to bring glory to the Malfoy family! Bear witness Snape, for that is what I will do! Out of my way!" He shoves Snape aside, running down the corridor.
It feels like his Dark Mark feels burning deeper and deeper, steeping into his bones. Stupid! 1942 was a dream without worry, where nothing even mattered, but now. He can barely stop this living nightmare!
"Draco Malfoy. I want to say is... Thank you. Not sure what will happen next, but I hope it works out. And I'd be glad to call you a friend."
Why did Potter enter his thoughts? What would he say to him when he wakes up? If he wakes up...
Distracted, Draco hits the corner and tumbles down. He doesn't ever try to get back up. Draco holds himself tightly, tears run down his cheek.
"Bring glory to the Malfoy family..."
Notes:
This chapter got too long, so Tom's POV will be the next chapter.
Draco's conflicted conscious, Harry's body made it back to the present, and Tom's "self-discovery".
Chapter 17: Creeping Task
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Blinking slowly to where the cracked stone walls meet a ribbed vault. It extends upwards to a rustic iron chandelier, with six enchanted candles, dangling from its chain. This Hospital Wing's ceiling isn't too dissimilar from his own, but to have this limited view of frivolous architecture whilst Harry's life is dwindling into oblivion.
Moments ago, Harry's supple lips were on his. Moments ago, Tom held him close. Now in this blasted timeline, Harry's breaths were non-existent and his body was ghastly pale. Their connection, their bond, Harry's warmth is fading.
Tom won't allow it.
Underneath the Invisibility Cloak, Tom lays anchored to the floor, courtesy of Dumbledore's obscene stunning spell. Humiliation would have past his veins, but Harry's lingering scent distracted Tom's other indulgences. His Harry is a mere breath away, but still far beyond Tom's reach. How dare the pathetic, geriatric headmaster--
The door burst open by a grim professor with dark, unkempt, greasy hair, Severus Snape. His strides are weighted and rigid, his foot barely contacts over Tom's immobile arm. Snape forces Draco aside, then obstructs Tom's view of Harry's weakened figure.
His eyes strain while his neck is unable to turn. Attentive listening will be sufficient for now. There, clinging of glasses, a swift movement, then an air pressure expanding. A potion. Via its scent, the only conclusion is a Blood-Replenishing Potion. Once its effects activate, then Harry shall be stable. This Ex-Potions Professor is far more capable than Slughorn. If Snape were the professor Tom had dominion over, his ambitions through Hogwarts would run exceptionally--
Harry gags with a forceful thud. The sound of skin colliding, silences Harry's throat. Tom's eyes twitch, while dark magic surrounds him. Snape's militant tactics shall not be tolerated. If Tom had control over his body, he would personally ensure Snape never has the opportunity to make such a mistake again.
"Severus! Must you be so brutal?" Dumbledore scolds. A singular moment, he found himself agreeing with Dumbledore.
Snape huffs, "This is the most efficient method."
Tom snarls lowly, inquiring which of his "most efficient methods" is most suitable for Snape's punishment.
"A Blood-Replenishing Potion needs to be administered every hour. If not, even shaking the boy won't cause his blood to flow. The brew is boiling as we speak," Snape scowls.
Administered every hour. Snape ought to refrain himself as a candidate for the position.
"Draco." Snape calls, grabbing the Slytherin's left arm, "An inherit discussion must be made about your duties while you wear such a vital emblem."
Snape ushers Draco out of the Hospital Wing. However, Draco's eyes linger down towards Tom's stunned body, completely unaware of the eye contact Tom established. After the two disappear from view, the Invisibility cloak is flown off. A wand hovers over Tom's neck by the utter fool who has become Hogwarts' new Headmaster. This unfavorable outcome left such a bitter taste.
"Showing yourself in such a form..." Dumbledore scowls, "What exactly are your intentions?"
An interrogation while in a paralyzed state? Honestly, Dumbledore is nothing but a pathetic--
Madam Pomfrey rushes in. She momentarily stares at himself and Dumbledore, but hastily redirects her attention to Harry. She raises him up and pulls the cork from the glass.
Tom's pupils dilate, honing in on the unknown potion in her hands. He compels his entire body to regain control. The core of his magic swells green while he's power surges from his pores. He over-exerts every fiber until he breaks through Dumbledore's stunning spell. His muscles contract, his force of will against the power of magic.
Tom jostles himself between Madam Pomfrey and Harry. Her potion splatter across the floor.
"Dear Merlin! You--"
"A Blood-Replenishing Potion has been administered. Consuming both concoctions potentially harms Harry." Tom's eyes narrow. "I won't allow it."
Madam Pomfrey covers her mouth, "I wasn't of..."
Tom carefully eyes Madam Pomfrey's ignorance then glares at Dumbledore's incompetence. His gaze softens as Harry shifts ever so slightly. Tom leans in resting Harry's head on his shoulder. Harry isn't as gaunt as before, but his appearance is far from his usual vibrant brilliance.
"My outburst was... rather unsavory," Tom sighs, not taking his eyes off Harry. Missing Dumbledore's inquisitive game.
"No, no, such information was vital. I appreciate you watching over Harry's condition. Thank you..." She stares at Tom, shifting her eyes up and down. "Umm. I don't recall your name, who might you be?"
Tom gently sweeps Harry's unkempt, but soft hair aside, uncovering the scar which enhances his flawless complexion. With Tom's eyes shut, he brings their foreheads together.
"I'm his."
Familiar electrocution pulses through his skin. The steeping warm etching towards his dwelling. Beautiful sensations overflow Tom's veins. He's completed once again. Every particle of his essence rejoices in the return of their unrivalled connection. Tom hums while his and Harry's magic swirl together.
This is everything.
This is perfection.
This is--
All Tom's sensations of comfort and tranquility come to a screeching halt.
Tom's eyes snap open, "Harry!?"
By now, the potion's effect should have activated; Harry's health ought to be improving, not deteriorating.
No.
They have endured grief and strife to conclude in understanding. Given all they experienced, Harry's significance is beyond any of Tom's ambitions. To accept Harry's demise is to condemn himself as a prisoner of constant torture, unbearable emptiness. To exist without Harry is a fate far worse than death. Tom will not permit it.
"Harry..." Tom's voice trembles as he cradles Harry's unconscious body.
Light warmth reemerges, prompting Harry to breathe out slightly. His body is still eerily frail, but it's as if his soul is teetering between consciousness and oblivion.
"Harry--"
A hand yanks Tom from Harry igniting bloodlust through his veins. His magic swells sharply as he fixes his gaze on the who who has the audacity to separate them. However, Dumbledore remains unfazed, placing a blanket over Harry.
"Don't fret. His slumber extends far, but he will return..." Dumbledore pats Harry's chest.
"In time."
An intriguing response, unfortunately completely overshadowed by Tom's own vitriol. Even after fifty years, Dumbledore remains as bothersome as ever. However, his insights on Harry's condition are best not ignored.
Dumbledore stands towards Madam Pomfrey. "Kindly restrict any visitors from Harry, with the exception of Severus. Please monitor him, and notify me if his condition worsens."
The matron acknowledges Dumbledore's request with a nod; while he heads towards the door. He loosely gestures back, "Come. There is much to discuss."
Though it was logical to follow Dumbledore then and there, Tom's body remains unmoved. His attention solely on Harry.
"There is no need for concern," Madam Pomfrey reassures with a gentle smile. "If Dumbledore says he'll wake, he shall. In the meantime, I will watch over him until you return. Don't worry, your discreet relationship is safe with me."
"Discreet?" Tom retorts, moving towards the door. "I take the utmost pride in my affections for Harry."
Their journey through Hogwarts caused several students to stare or even gawk towards Tom. There were murmurs he was the one to harm Harry while others say he saved him. Tom ignores all their pathetic speculation and gossip until the two make it inside Dumbledore's whimsical, disorganized office.
Tom folds his arms, impatiently tapping his finger against his forearm. Instead of acknowledging Tom's clear irritation, Dumbledore holds out a bowl filled with hard candies. An artificial scent of lemons assault his nostrils. Tom clenches his forearm tightly, nearly drawing blood. Before Dumbledore could offer, the wrappers ignited into flames and the candy liquefied into viscous substance.
"A simple 'no' would've suffice," Dumbledore swirls the bowl.
"Enough. You foolish pruned relic," Tom growls. "What of Harry's predicament? How does 'His slumber extends far'?"
Dumbledore settles into his chair. He rubs his eyes before fixing his gaze on Tom. "Such blatant hostility. I recalled a more cold, calculating, refined Tom Marvolo Riddle."
He pauses for a dramatic effect.
"From 1942."
Tom rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I have no time for your rudimental form of intimidation. I will not allow Harry to wither away as I waste my breath on the likes of you."
"Hmm... I am merely verifying all the pieces," Dumbledore grabs a feather and dips it into his melted candy bowl. He lifts the feather to the tip of his tongue. "Time Magic is much too complex for you to fully comprehend. For you to enter this timeline is impossible, because the Rune circle was specifically catered towards Harry's travel."
Before...
"It wasn't made for two..." Draco whispers.
Tom lets him go.
"No... It isn't made for three... The summon circle was a two way gate. One," Draco points to himself.
His index finger points at Tom.
"Two."
Tom clenches his concealed wand. "You dare to question my intelligence? I reconstructed your 'two way gate' Runes based from Harry's memories. Any errors in its application are solely attributed to you."
Then Dumbledore rolls his eyes, "To travel requires immense research, dedication, and power. However, the most critical component is..." Dumbledore stares, "The token."
Dumbledore's need to pause for the theatrics is stripping Tom's patience thin. "Well? Are you unable to efficiently communicate your thoughts without gaps in your speech or has incoherent dementia finally settled in?"
He shrugs in return. "An unanchored soul may lose itself on the journey, however the body requires proof of existence. Proof that tethers to a moment in time. The token is the fee to travel. The token used for the ritual was a drop of Harry's blood."
Tom's eyes widen.
Harry's blood.
How could he have been so oblivious? It was Harry's blood which activated the Runes, it was Harry who those disembodied voices were searching for. Harry is the sole individual permitted to traverse through Time's realm. However, he distinctly recalls himself and Draco traversing through the Runes without difficulties.
Tom's hands begin to tremble. "Suppose, others utilized his token," He keeps his voice steady, fearing the answer.
"...Harry's presence alongside them should pose no issues. However, if they proceed without him," Dumbledore's eyes darken, "A much heftier fee is required."
Heftier fee...
The last Rune symbol breaks.
The red rope shakes...
Then turns into blood.
Blood gushes out from Harry's hand. His once pristine perfect tie becomes deep crimson. More blood bleeds from stab wounds from Harry's torso.
The red string of fate was more in tune with a trail of blood. Harry's blood was the price. All because he decided to...
Harry's expression changes into a bittersweet determination.
"Flipendo!"
Tom experienced all the events of Harry's life. He perceived every one of his emotions. If he spent less with Quidditch and engaged more with Dumbledore's summon circle, Tom would have executed its power without Harry's need for his willing irrational sacrifice. Had Harry remained in 1942 with him, they would have altered the course of time. The future would have inevitably yielded to their desires. Had they abandoned Draco in the confines of the past, they would have ascended to power here. Instead, he voluntarily forsaken himself to allow Draco's and his safety. Entirely disregarding his own wellbeing.
Now, Harry, his precious Harry, his soul remains suspended in limbo until his debt is repaid. How much blood is required? Do they intend to drain Harry dry? If blood is essential as currency, there are numerous substitutions which Tom can "obtain" to mitigate Harry's expenses. Even his own would be suitable! Tom shall take any action to ensure he'll gaze into those brilliant green eyes, to listen to the sound of his voice, and embrace Harry once more.
"You," Dumbledore mumbles, snapping Tom out of his thoughts.
"You truly love him, don't you?"
Tom's gaze sharply shifts to Dumbledore. The Headmaster's expression is baffled, yet hopeful.
"I..."
Rarely, Tom is rendered utterly speechless, however...
"It's impossible. Given your circumstances, you can't ever love--"
"Then I don't," he growls.
He lifts Harry's chin up, "What I feel for you surpasses any other emotions ever expressed before. This yearning, this urge, this passion. Neither Muggle nor Wizard have come close to experiencing this. What I feel is solely created for you! I..."
He kisses Harry.
"You."
Tom inhales and exhales. Dumbledore's statement isn't false. "I was under the assumption I am incapable of love. That I wasn't made for it."
Dumbledore hums, wiping his spectacles. "That assertion pertained to a young Tom I had previously known. It seems Harry's influence affected the mind rather than time... Pity the current Marvolo Riddle won't benefit from his works." Dumbledore's eyes widen with slight glint. As if he had his opponent's King checkmated.
"However, your insights can be beneficial," The Headmaster's expression remains impassive, however his tone, borderline joyful.
Given Harry's circumstances Dumbledore's gleeful behavior is unsettling, no, absolutely vile. Tom folds his arms, "My 'insights' cater solely towards Harry's safety. Everything else is irrelevant."
"Of course, it is clear you care for him more than life itself." Dumbledore strokes his beard, and has the audacity to grin. "Not to worry. See, if Harry remained in 1942, his debt would be paid, but the price would completely deplete his blood. The results, his soul wandering aimlessly. It's truly a blessing Harry's body was drawn to safety here. Perhaps by the pull of life?"
No, it was Tom, himself, pulling.
"Nevertheless, with his living vessel here and his blood being replenished. Harry's soul will return in time."
Tom unfolds his arms and strikes the table with his fist, "For how long?!"
"Regrettably, I have no tangible answer, but you will wait, won't you?"
Tom's anger deflates, being replaced by irritation. Such a question was absolutely ridiculous. Regardless of any obstacles, he will ultimately have Harry again.
Dumbledore silently observes, amused with his response. "In the meantime..." With a swift movement of ancient relic's wrist, official documents circulate across the room, until settling on his desk.
"An application," Tom merely states his observation.
"Essential for all enrolling students," Dumbledore hums taking out a jar of jet black ink. "Oh, unless you prefer I return to your own time," he fret ignorance, pulling the parchment back.
Tom's hand forcefully halts the movement, then he draws the enrollment sheets closer taking a seat. Dumbledore chuckles lightly. The ink and feather slide towards him.
"Now, if you would please."
A curse lays at the top of Tom's tongue, but he snatched the pen instead. He maintains his personal information relatively unchanged, then performs rudimentary calculations to determine what his birth year should be. Towards the bottom of the document is the signature line. Tom pauses for a moment. Then signs:
Thomas R. MarGaunt
Dumbledore leans forward glancing towards the page. After a brief moment, he snorts, "Quite unique."
"Given the previous records of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle', it's daft to assume any part of his identity."
"Ah yes, and 'Thomas R. MarGaunt' is far removed from 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'," Dumbledore muses.
A deep-seated rage and irrational lie beneath the surface of Tom's demeanor. This Dumbledore was bold in nature. He gleefully uses Legilimency not to enter his mind and uncover all his secrets. But rather to evoke him into a certain response.
"Well, if that's what so you chose," the headmaster waves his wand resulting in Tom's new name to burn into the parchment. "All that's left is your Sorting Ceremony. Such an event will begin shortly for lunch in the Great Hall."
"No. Such a need for an elaborate display is idiotic. Sort me now, so I can return to Harry."
Dumbledore hums "Unlike some, I prefer to uphold Hogwarts finest tradition."
"A tradition as archaic as you," Tom retorts. "Has your senile mind forgotten? Professor Slughorn is again employed as Hogwart's Potions Professor. Even after fifty years, he will surely recognize the resemblance to 'Tom Riddle' upon witnessing my brilliance."
"Perhaps so. However, I will not perform the Sorting here. And without a student belonging to a House, their application is incomplete. They'll be asked to leave." A smug smirk stretches from Dumbledore's mouth. Wrinkles of skin crinkle together at the corner of his eyes.
"So what will it be?"
Albus Dumbledore.
The person who saw him orphaned, physically at his weakest. The only bloody blasted professor who saw through his carefully curated facade and refused to bend to his will. The one who now possesses fifty years of insight on his psyche. The one keeping from Harry.
Oh, how Tom would thoroughly relish in Dumbledore's--
"Excuse me."
"What?" Tom snaps harshly.
The fourth year Gryffindor squeaks and hides behind her Ravenclaw friend.
"I-I..." The Ravenclaw pathetically stutters. "Uh, that is we..."
"Out with it."
"We saw you carry Harry Potter to the Hospital Wing. H-he... He was covered in blood."
"Yes," the fourth year speaks. "Madam Pomfrey won't let anyone in. Is Harry alright?"
A small crowd surrounds them, with several bystanders listening in on the conversation.
Tom doesn't respond.
It seems Harry Potter has a significant following that extends well past those in Gryffindor. His parents'name, his title as 'The Boy Who Lived', exceeded his current Quidditch reputation. Numerous individuals throughout all of Hogwarts were obsessed with Harry. However, their intentions are unknown. How many aspire to share in his notoriety, to use his name to gain advantages? How many seek to have an intimate relationship with him? Every thought made Tom's blood boil.
He almost preferred 1942. Back when no one knew, nor cared for 'Harrison Evans'. He was obscure and unnoticed. His name was completely unknown and unimportant. Only Tom knew of his brilliance, his expert skills, his alluring nature. Back when Harry belonged entirely to him.
"Pardon me," Tom shoves past the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to enter the Great Hall.
Tom folds his arms and rests against the back wall, observing how the different Houses filter themselves by color. Straight ahead is the professor's table, noting half of them are absent. Awfully conveniently Slughorn was among the missing masses. Exactly how did Dumbledore persuade them not to come?
No matter.
His gaze shifts towards the Gryffindor table where a girl with bushy hair and buck teeth and a boy with red hair and poverty-stricken robes sit. Granger and Weasley. They sit beside one another frustrated and anxious. Surely, about Harry.
Subsequently, Tom turns to his focus towards the Slytherin table, briefly making eye contact with Draco. Draco realizes and averts his gaze. Odd. Draco couldn't have appeared less joyous. The slight red twingle of his eyes that suggest he has been crying. If he terribly distressed upon returning to his original timeline, perhaps he should have stayed in 1942. Then Harry would have been spared from time tearing blood as a ludicrous "token".
Overall, Tom is indifferent towards Draco's emotional decline, instead irritated Dumbledore hasn't started the ceremony. Once he was Sorted he can promptly go to Harry.
Dumbledore sighs, then clears his throat, "Greeting students. I apologize for interrupting your meal, however I have an important announcement."
The Great Hall simmers down with the voices coming to a halt. Dumbledore hums to himself and waves his wand. The Sorting Hat bursts into his hands and the student body murmurs in excitement.
"Although a bit late, I present to you a new transfer student..." The four different houses look around in anticipation. "Thomas R. MarGaunt, please step forward!"
Several students react with surprise, recognizing Tom from the corridors. Honestly he hadn't taken note of those he blasted while bringing Harry to the Hospital Wing, nor the onlookers on the way to Dumbledore's office. Tom steps onto the center stage and turns to face the masses. He passively gazes over each student. Dumbledore offers a subtle nod before placing the Sorting Hat on his head.
The Sorting Hat barely touches Tom's hair, "SLYTH--"
Precise magic surges up towards the Sorting Hat, burning its cloth.
"Neither you, nor Dumbledore, nor time itself, shall keep me."
"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort. You are the epitome of Slytherin. Are you suggesting--"
"Yes."
The Sorting Hat chuckles then breaks into laughter, "How insistent! Perhaps you do fall under their description. I shall grant your audacious request..."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The House of the Lions erupts in thunderous roars, celebrating the arrival of a new member. As Tom walks down he is swarmed with boisterous Gryffindors chanting his name. They present him with new robes. Tom glances towards the Slytherins, where Draco appears stunned, pale, and strained. Tom scoffs walking down.
"So," two identical Weasely speak, blocking his path. Based on Harry's memories, one was George and the other Fred, however Tom couldn't care less which was which.
"Since you're new..." One says.
"We can offer exclusive Hogwarts tours..." The other adds.
"For a small fee!" They say in unison.
"Fred, George! Leave him alone, this isn't the time," Granger scolds pulling the two back.
One of the twins grins and conjures a Tempus charm to mock Granger.
"You!" Weasley rudely points at Tom's face. "You're the bloke they have been talking about. How's Harry--"
"Pardon me," Tom dismisses, shoving past the Gryffindors, out of the Great Hall.
A Blood-Replenishing Potion needs to be administered every hour. It has been an hour since Harry's last dose.
Tom rushes towards the Hospital Wing only to find Pomfrey nowhere in sight, leaving Harry unattended. Tom hisses lightly walking towards the enclosed curtains with several precautions charms in effect. However, with a wave of his wand, he easily bypasses every one of them. There Harry's faint gasp, followed by unprompted coughing. Terror surges causing Tom yanks the curtains to discover Snape pulling Harry's neck upwards. Once again forcefully administering the potion down his throat.
Snape turns to the intruder, "What? How did you get past the charms?"
Harry winces.
"Flipendo!"
The spell knocks Snape backwards, and Tom casts another ensures no potion spillage. He maneuvers towards Harry's side softly cradling his neck.
Snape grips the wall standing upwards. He growls with vitriol, "Insolent boy! Potter needs--"
"Never before have I been baffled by sheer incompetence. Administering a simple potion with such ineptitude is beyond my comprehension," Tom retorts, grabbing the potion. Then holding Harry closely.
"WHAT?!" Snape exclaims in disbelief.
Tom wraps Harry with his arms, shielding his ears. "Quiet. Harry requires rest."
The professor's hand clenches, trembling engulfed in pure rage. "You little--"
"Professor Snape," Madame Pomfrey calls. She steps closer trying to piece together the scene. Her eyes soften when she turns to Harry and himself.
"Professor Snape. I personally apologize for leaving so hastily. I needed a blank medical sheet for Hogwarts newest: Thomas R. MarGaunt. Please allow young MarGaunt to precede with Harry's medication, until curfew. By virtue of being a new student, his schedule has yet to be decided. I am sure you have your hands full with other duties that require your attention."
Madame Pomfrey is quite the ally. Tom smirks as Snape scowls at his smug reaction.
"One hundred points from Gryffindor," Snape huffs. "The Blood-Replenishing Potions are in the back cabinet. Notify me immediately when it runs low. You have a lot to learn boy." He snaps his cloak and storms out.
Madame Pomfrey sighs walking towards them both. "Professor Snape is, well, Professor Snape, but he truly tended to Harry. Also Dumbledore instructed me to inform you: any restrictions from Harry doesn't apply to you." She gently smiles as she closes the curtains.
"I never required his permission," Tom grumbles.
With steady hands, Tom gently raises Harry's chin assisting him in taking the potion. He coughs slightly, but manages to swallow every single drop. He wipes Harry's mouth, and he unexpectedly nestles against Tom's chest. He sighs, lifting Harry up and moving into the bed. Once settled, he lays Harry close.
Harry's heart is beating ever so slowly, but beating nonetheless. Tom brushes the hair away from her eyes, utterly ensnared by Harry's exquisite features. Each minute detail was breathtakingly remarkable. Now, Harry is in his arms, but it simultaneously causes his heart flutter and aches intensely. Tom wishes for Harry to wake.
"You'll be safe. I won't allow any other outcome," Tom whispers in Parseltongue, inhaling Harry's sweet scent.
"I vow to protect you from your night terrors, from my disastrous future self, even from death itself. No matter what you'll always have me. Harry..."
Tom kisses him softly.
"I love you."
Several days passed, with each longer than the last. Although strange, Tom managed to establish a new daily routine. Being the sole individual to visit Harry at any moment, Dumbledore offered him a rather flexible schedule. He was permitted to leave his classes at any moment to administer the potion to Harry.
Occasionally, when he would attend class where he effortlessly became top student. Although, Granger was a highly admirable foe, albeit extremely moralistic. She was hesitant at first, but gave Tom a baseline level of respect after seeing how diligently he attended to Harry. On the other hand, curtain Weasleys eyed him with deep suspicion and one other was envious of his skills. Several others gazed upon him with different expressions, probing him to sustain their curiosity. Tom kept his answers vague, or dismissed them completely, causing several rumors to appear. However, he gave little consideration to what the masses thought. His previous pristine perfect Prefect persona seems quite distant.
Although, Snape became a bit of an issue. He would provide the Blood Replenishing Potions, but whether it be their encounter in the Hospital Wing, or Harry's absence, the current Dark Arts Professor intended to humiliate him. However, Tom's expertise in the Dark Arts was remarkably flawless, leaving Snape unable to identify any shortcomings. Resulting in Snape reprimanding Tom for his "impudent Gryffindor attitude" instead. His new house lost several hundred points because of the greasy petty man with a strife against Gryffindors.
Another difficulty was Slughorn and Minerva. Those two who knew extensive knowledge of his history. If they were to uncover his true identity, the repercussion would overlap into that monster's war. They knew of him, but Tom evaded them effortlessly.
However, a certain Slytherin avoidance effort was rather lack-lustered. Draco completely disregarded his presence. No interaction, nor eye contact. If they would encounter each other Draco would flee. The Slytherins treated Tom as another Gryffindor, mocking him for his devotion towards Harry. On several different occasions, Tom caught Draco observing the Hospital Wing from a distance, riddled with guilt, turmoil, and longing. He would reach the door, but never had the conviction to enter. Such a cowardice unable to face an unconscious Harry.
Harry.
His Harry.
There were times when Tom explored the commodities of what the future had to offer, he spent most of his moments with Harry. Some days were more fruitful with Harry turning on his own, or breathing evenly. Tom would stroke Harry's soft, divine cheeks, or tangle is hand in his silky, curly locks. A cleansing spell was vital to Harry's recovery, but some days it became harder to control his desires than others. So... Tom would indulge himself a little. Most of his time was with Harry.
Today is no different. Tom sits beside Harry's bedside fiddling with the Gaunt's ring. Such a design, although marvelous, no longer suited what he had in mind. The curtains sway with the breeze and the Golden Hour's light burst through the windows. Tom groans quietly. He could never endure this time of day, in the Hospital Wing, alone with Harry. The location of the bed exactly matched 1942.
"I'll stay... Until you feel better," Harry says.
Something inside Tom snaps. "For each slash etched into my flesh, pleasure will be the equivalent exchange. That's fair, isn't it?"
Harry flushes bright red, nodding his head. Tom yanks open Harry's collar, hearing a few buttons pop. He pins Harry down and long fingers trace over Harry's collar bone. His other hand squeezes Harry's waist.
"Beautiful... Harry your body is intricate, so undeniably mine."
Then Tom buries his head in the crook of Harry's neck. Licking his exposed skin, he sucks on Harry's neck, leaving his mark. Harry tries to cover his gasp with his hands causing him to chuckle. Then Tom grinds his knee to Harry's groin. A beautiful tent forms in Harry's trousers. Tom mumbles a lubricant spell and hand slips past Harry's waistband, stroking Harry's penis.
"Our connection... It extends further than magic, power, language. So let's test our physical compatibility, shall we?" Tom grins pulling out his erection, and slides downwards to Harry's arsehole.
"Nghhh!" Harry moans as a finger slips in.
"Harry..." he whispers gently. "You can tell me to stop."
Harry clenches around Tom's neck pulling him closer.
"No. Please keep going..."
Tom thoroughly obliges to Harry's request.
What happened next, was Harry's gasping moans, his tight velvet insides. How he desperately yearned for him, pleading for Tom to become his sole source of pleasure. His lovely tears glistened from his green eyes. His fingernails etch into Tom's flesh as he thrusts deeper. How he and Harry travel through the depths of relish and desire.
As the sunlight fades, so does his urges, not all, but a significant amount. But barren isolation settles in its place.
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three hundred and thirty-six hours.
Twenty thousand one hundred sixty minutes.
One million two hundred nine thousand six hundred seconds and increasing.
There are signs of improvement, yet remains Harry still unresponsive. Why hasn't he awakened yet?
Exhaustion from his forty minute intervals of rest ultimately takes its toll. Fatigue settles in the forefront, clouding his thoughts. Tom never got to hear Harry moan his name. The possibility of Harry never regaining consciousness looms over him. An unbearable future he refuses to accept. Harry won't die, not while there exists the means to ensure their sacred bond. A method to achieve they life together. An immortal life together. All that's needed is for Tom to creatur two horcrux--
A gentle caress glides across his hand. A sensation of warmth, security, and comfort spreads from Tom's hand encompasses his entire body.
It's such a pleasant touch.
"Tom..." A voice barely whispers.
Not any voice.
Harry's voice.
Tom jolts to find Harry awake. His radiant features are lit by the candlelight. His captivating emerald green eyes glisten as they gaze towards him. Harry's hand on his own, using his thumb in a circle.
"Harry," Tom closes the distance, interlocks their fingers.
Harry appears a bit dazed, however an angelic smile spreads upon his face.
"You look nice in red."
Notes:
The thesaurus was working overtime for Tom's POV.
Next chapter:
Harry, Tom, and Dumbledore discuss the horcruxes.
Chapter 18: Left to Us
Chapter Text
There's nothing.
Emptiness.
Void extends past everything.
Looking down Harry couldn't even see his hand, but he feels the blood flowing out of it.
"Harry Potter," one voice echoes.
"Harry Potter..." The other muses.
That's odd. Those voices sound very familiar.
"He's late," the first voice speaks up.
"He had to come, or the travel would all be nigh. Look he's tethering to life by a thread," the other hums.
"Red, red, red. What a feast to behold."
"Fate will be challenged."
"If he survives."
"Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter." They chant in unison.
Ugh.
Shut up.
Why do they keep calling his name? Harry clenches his fist. He's tired. Why won't they just let him sleep?
Just... Let... Him...
Sleep...
The cut on Harry's right hand pricks into veins. The stinging pain morphs into a relentless tug, pulling him to who-knows-where. He should be more defiant and weary, but he's just too exhausted, so he surrenders to the unknown force. A touch caresses his forehead, it's ever so brief, but ever so warm. Harry leans closer, only to be stopped by an imposing figure.
He goes for his wand, but sways in limbo instead. Harry's eyelids are an admirable foe; it takes all semblance of strength to open his eyes. He wants to go to that warmth. Finally regaining his vision, Harry is greeted by thousands of endless translucent ribbons. The strands tangle, and come loose. With every blink the ribbon pulses longer and longer. The entity's skin is fluid, shifting like a kaleidoscope.
"Harry Potter," the entity speaks. "Your debt is heavy."
"Debt?" Harry murmurs almost fading back into oblivion. He stubbornly shakes his head, "Who are you?"
"I am what flows, what remains. I am a precious commodity which can never be regained," the entity hums. "I am the Mistress of Time."
Time? Harry tilts his head, only to have to droop down on his side. As his vision refocuses, he realizes he must have dozed off.
"Ah," Harry nods. "It's an honor. I am..."
"The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Harry Potter," the other voice answers.
That's right. They have been chanting his name nonstop, of course they kneow who he is. Harry gazes at the mysterious hooded figure next to Time, their features hazed behind the cloak.
"And you are?"
The figure softly hums, resting their arm on Time's shoulder, "Our paths have crossed once, and so shall it again."
Before he could respond, a wave of sensations crashes through his veins. Such familiar warmth compelling his soul into the abyss.
A familiar feeling, a familiar connection. Stemming from his scar.
"Tom."
Harry's vision falters, causing him to wobble downward. He braces his legs and summons every bit of willpower to remain standing. Why does it constantly feel like his energy is being drained from him? Harry holds his head brushing over his scar. Was Tom searching for him, calling to him? There's so much left unsaid, if he could he would like to see him.
No, he wants to see him again.
"So you accept," the figure muses. "Take heed for change."
"Go, Harry Potter," Time pushes Harry into oblivion. "With every step your debt will be repaid."
Harry sharply gasps, plunging into the depths of darkness. His eyes squeeze shut, bracing for the impact. One of the translucent ribbons breaks his fall, becoming his new pathway. Harry unsteadily lurches, but manages another step on the ever-turning walkway. The ribbon is fluid, twisting and curving aimlessly. With every step, his consciousness struggles to stay awake while his limbs attach and detached. A persistent tug from his right hand becomes like a guiding rope, a comforting presence, like someone standing beside him. Occasionally, Harry dozes off, but a burst of flowing energy would travel through his body forcing him awake. Whispers, of words he can't make out, but it almost sounded like "I love you" in Parseltongue?
Impossible.
The journey ends with the ribbon glimmer brightly. The guiding rope molds around his right palm, like someone's hand. Harry reaches for it. In an instant, the ribbon rips causing him to fall inside. A blinding light overwhelms his senses, and bursts of color flood his vision. One color in particular stands out. He must be hallucinating, or it's all a mere dream. Everything is blurry. And... beside him is a seated Tom Riddle, resting his head on Harry's bed. Harry holds Dream Tom's hand.
"Tom..."
Dream Tom's snaps towards him, relief washing over his dark eyes. His jet black hair looks perfect with the strands sticking out. His sharp jawline is still as sexy as the real one. Harry gently strokes his hand in soothing circles with his thumb.
"Harry," he says his name, while interlocks their fingers, and closing the distance between them.
Harry inwardly giggles. He can't really see the fine details, but Dream Tom's expression was one he had never seen before. The evening light was just like in 1942 for their first time together. Such a lovely dream, but why is he dreaming about Tom being a Gryffindor anyway? There's no way the Heir of Slytherin Tom would ever be sorted there. Although...
"You look nice in red," Harry smiles, but immediately coughs.
Why is his throat so dry?
Dream Tom's eyes narrow as he seizes his wand. He Accios a cup of water which causes the curtains to flutter apart. Dream Tom wraps his arms around Harry, lifting him up until they're snugged together. He carefully brings the cup to his lips, on full alert, as Harry takes a sip. Never before has water tasted so refreshing.
After his done, Dream Tom magically rids the cup. Harry could feel a droplet dripping down from the corner of his mouth. Dream Tom catches it, slowly wiping the moisture with his thumb. That's nice of him. Harry leans to Dream Tom, the closer he gets the more prominent his striking features are. Everything about Tom is so bloody hot. Harry pauses, thinking it'll be a waste not to indulge in his dream.
"Tom," he slurs, pulling Dream Tom into a passionate kiss.
Dream Tom is caught off guard until he leans into the kiss. Harry's heart flutters in his stomach at the familiar blend of pleasure and comfort. It almost feels like the connection between them is swirling in delight. They melt together like the existence of time didn't matter. Dream Tom readjusts his position, but stops. His eyes widened, rather comically, and his lips parted slightly which allowed Harry to take the initiative and slip his tongue in, deepening the kiss. His taste is still addictive. He hugs Dream Tom wishing it was the real Tom. Harry hums, yanking down Dream Tom's tie, pressing his body onto his.
"Dear Merlin!" An elderly feminine voice yelps.
Harry frowns at the interruption, distancing himself from Dream Tom. Why do dreams always stop at the good part? He squints through the drawn back curtains and stares at the woman watching them. Harry couldn't make out her face, but her red cheeks are obvious and she presence seems familiar.
Very familiar.
"...Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asks.
"Ah," she replies thoughtfully. "Glad you're finally awake."
Awake?
Harry looks back to Dream Tom readjusting his Gryffindor tie neatly into place. He catches Harry's gaze, giving a self-satisfied smirk and a playful cough, licking his lips.
Dream Tom...
...is real Tom?
Harry grabs Tom's face, squishing his cheeks together. Then he pulls at it carefully, watching Tom's cheek redden from the contact.
"You're real..." Harry murmurs in disbelief. He isn't in 1942 anymore, or perhaps this isn't Tom Riddle. Harry pokes Tom's nose for a final confirmation, and his eyes grow wider.
"This is real!" Harry glances around frantically, his head darts from side to side. They made it back home? He pushed Tom inside the Rune Circle, but what about--
"What happened? How are you here? Where’s Dra--" He tumbles face first into the floor, but Tom manages to catch him just in time.
"Dear Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey rushes to his bedside.
Tom wraps his arms around Harry, gently rubbing circles on his back. He pressed Harry's ear onto his chest, to the sound of his steady heartbeat.
"It's alright," Tom's rich voice soothes Harry's distress.
Harry inhales and exhales as Tom does. He relaxes and Tom positions him up, allowing Harry to rest his head on Tom's shoulder.
"Thanks," Harry mumbles, flushing bright pink. He turns away, trying to forget what he did to Tom, what he wanted to do. However, Tom grips Harry's chin back towards his gaze. Then he carefully adjusts Harry's glasses back onto his face, allowing Harry to see Tom smile unfairly brilliantly.
"I missed you."
Professor Dumbledore strides into the Hospital Wing, a sense of urgency in his demeanor. Upon spotting Harry, his tension eases, resulting in his usual calm, neutral expression.
"Welcome back," he whispers. Then in a louder tone, "Come, we have much to discuss."
What? Why isn't Professor Dumbledore surprised Tom Riddle in the flesh? Matter of fact, why was Madam Pomfrey used to Tom's presence? What is going on?
"Not now," Madam Pomfrey interjects. "The boy is clearly confused. He needs more rest."
"Poppy, he has been resting for two weeks now. An explanation and a change of scenery will do him good," Professor Dumbledore reasons.
Two weeks? What is Professor Dumbledore on about? It's only been a couple of hours.
"Harry," the Headmaster presses, already out the doorway.
He won't get any answers staying here. Harry nods, shifting himself to the edge of the bed, only to have Tom stop him.
"I must concur with Madam Pomfrey, Harry still requires rest. Thus..." Tom slides his arms underneath Harry, and in one swift motion, effortlessly lifting him up. "I ensure so."
Harry yelps with embarrassment.
Madam Pomfrey chuckles in her hand. "Well, I suppose if he's with you... It should be fine."
Tom smiles, a genuine smile. He gathers Harry's bag underneath the bed and bows, with Harry still in his arms. "It's been a pleasure."
"Visit anytime," she waves to both of them. "Oh, and Harry. Please keep your intimate activities private." She bloody winks.
Tom carries him out before he can reply.
"I can walk on my own for Merlin's sake."
Harry struggles from Tom's unexpectedly strong grip. Several students, several of his classmates, watch as Tom strides around, carrying him like a fragile princess. Why did classes have to be over? From the corner of his eyes he swears he saw Hermione's facial expression change from relief to mortification, while Ron stands in shock. Then laughter that sounds like it came from Fred and George. They really are back home...
...Where everyone can see them.
"This is embarrassing," Harry bellows in shame.
"More embarrassing than passionately attacking me in full view of Madam Pomfrey?"
"Put me dow--" Harry almost slips from his sudden movement, so wraps his arm around Tom's neck by reflex. Harry steadies himself as Tom draws him in tighter.
"Be still darling," Tom affectionately kisses Harry's forehead, "and savor the moment." He whispers in Harry's ear. Shivers travel up Harry's spine, causing him to blush.
The crowd of spectators gasp and several girls squeal. There's a chance a slimy Slytherin like Tom nearly dropped him on purpose, but he'll accept defeat this time. Harry clings to Tom's Gryffindor attrite and buries his face under Tom's chin to avoid any unnecessary eye contact.
He couldn't deny the fact that... It's nice.
Tom is really here.
Moments ago Harry had full convection to stay trapped in 1942, of it ensured Tom's and Draco's safety. Now that he is here, Harry couldn't help but to be thankful to be with Tom once again. Back in his arms. Harry's nose lightly brushes against Tom's neck and he squeezes closer. Tom pauses briefly, before continuing behind Professor Dumbledore.
The three enter Professor Dumbledore's office, and immediately Fawkes chirps from up above swooping down to greet Harry. Before Harry could return the pleasantries Tom swats him away. Tom, impressively, holds Harry with one arm to transfigure the chair into a loveseat. He settles Harry down comfortably on the plush cushions, then joins him. Closely.
Professor Dumbledore snorts, amused by their skinship. He sits at the diagonal armchair and Fawkes rests on the chair's arm. "Harry. How are you feeling?" Professor Dumbledore inquires.
"A bit disoriented." Harry admits, staring at Tom's Gryffindor tie. "But other than that," he clenches and unclenches his palms. "I feel fine."
"I suppose you were properly tended to for these two weeks," His gaze falls on Tom, who snakes his arm around Harry's waist in return.
"Two..." He still couldn't believe it.
Dumbledore nods, waving his wand. A parchment and inked feather appear in his hands. "Indeed. Two weeks ago you were found blood-ridden and were rushed to the Hospital Wing. There you have been administered a steady intake of Blood Replenishing Potions until you woke up today. Harry, can you recount anything?"
Harry closes his eyes in an effort to remember everything. Being trapped in 1942 with Draco--
"Draco! Is he alright? Is he okay?! The last I saw of him was--"
"Draco is here," Tom reassures him. "He entered the Runes alongside me. Upon his return, he sought asylum through Snape and his Slytherin brethren. It seems he would rather forget the entire ordeal. Opting to ignore even my existence."
Imagining what Draco experienced, Harry bites his lower lip, "I need to talk to him."
"Perhaps in due time," Professor Dumbledore interjects. "Harry, if you would please."
Harry's expression sours. If he gives Professor Dumbledore the condensed version, maybe he'll have time to find and catch Draco.
"Draco and I were trapped in 1942, the solar eclipse's time magic aided our return with Tom recreating your Runes. I ensured both Draco and Tom safety first. Then..." Harry's hands begin to tremble. He remembers the immense power of the war. Then the wound as Lestrange plunges the dagger into his torso. Harry holds his recovering wound.
"Harry?" Tom asks with concern.
"I was stabbed- Ah, it doesn't matter anymore." He stops himself feeling Tom's added pressure. "But I enter a strange realm. I met someone there. One the Mistress of Time and the other..." He trails off. "Take heed for change... Sir, I fear I changed too much. I caused your battle with Grindelwald to appear three years earlier. Bloody hell... I stole Tom Riddle from the past. How have I changed the present? What happens now--"
"Calm yourself," Professor Dumbledore sternly. When he meets Harry's green eyes he inhales and exhales. Harry subconsciously mimics his actions. "Look around. It seems as though your venture was in vain, for nothing of this past, of this timeline has changed. At this very moment Voldemort continues to pose as a threat which must be eliminated."
Harry's eyes narrow. Back in 1942...
After a moment Professor Dumbledore inhales, "Don't trust him. Spare yourself from the pain and heartache."
"I find your current shift towards young Riddle... Concerning. His abilities, his intelligence, even his charms. I beg you not to fall prey to his manipulations. The core of a person cannot be changed. They can only be stopped."
"Tom isn't Voldemort," Harry says lowly, protectively gripping Tom's hand. Tom gazes attentively while tenderly stroking his own.
"Ah, to be young and feel love's ken sting..." Professor Dumbledore mumbles to himself longingly.
Shaking his head he turns back towards Harry, "Of course not. Here stands our newest Sixth Year Gryffindor: Thomas R. MarGaunt."
"Thomas R. MarGaunt?"
"I suppose I took inspiration from your 'McClure'", Tom smirks.
"Though he isn't Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore continues on topic. "It doesn't alter the fact their pasts remain fundamentally identical. So..."
He wandless uses Accio to summon a small bottle to his hand. Steam seeps from a mug, while Professor Dumbledore adds mint and a lemon wedge. He then uncaps the potion pouring a single drop of a clear, colorless, orderless liquid into the tea. The tea swirls on its own and Professor Dumbledore raises to hand Tom the cup.
"Drink this."
Veritaserum.
This is why Tom's presence isn't an issue for Professor Dumbledore. This is why he didn't send him back. He intends to use Tom as a gateway into Voldemort's past. To use him as a tool. Although Tom is technically Voldemort's flesh and blood, Tom is still his own person deserving of rights.
"Tom, you don't have to if you don't want to," Harry maneuvers in between Tom and the cup.
He lowly chuckles and caresses Harry's right cheek, "It would be beneficial for us that Voldemort swiftly meets his demise. There's little I won't do for you." He takes the cup from Professor Dumbledore and sips the tea.
Professor Dumbledore settles back into his chair, picking up the inked feather and stained parchment. With a thoughtful expression, he nods, "Let's begin. What is your name?"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle."
The headmaster checks off the parchment.
"When is your birthday?"
"The 31st of December in 1926."
Another check mark.
Professor Dumbledore pauses to stroke his beard, pondering his next question. He faces Harry with an unreadable expression, then he turns his gaze towards Tom giving an equally curious look.
"What are your intentions with Harry?"
Tom answers instantly, "I intend to become Harry's primary source of both emotional and physical fulfillment. To intertwine our magical cores to emerge as the most proficient unit the Wizarding World has ever seen." Tom gazes into Harry's eyes, "I fancy you dearly. Never before have I met another as brilliant, or as powerful, as you. To express everything you are to me shall require an eternity. Harry Potter, I vow to cherish you, indulge you, pleasure--"
"Okay, okay!" A flushed red Harry quickly covers Tom's mouth. "That's enough..."
Tom carefully brings Harry's left hand down and kisses his ring finger. "Had I known your boldness is solely confined in the Hospital Wing, we would have remained longer."
"It's- That's-" Harry takes a breath, "When I saw you, I thought I was dreaming."
"Why Harry. I must admit, I am quite envious of my dream counterpart. I regret dismissing your indecency," Tom sighs.
Harry's beating hearts steeps warmth into his cheeks. Tom definitely calculated his responses, but to know each of his confessions are truth is still...
Professor Dumbledore let's out a hearty laugh, "I suppose I will spare you from further embarrassment. Though I am pleased both sentiments are mutual. Now Tom." The Headmaster inhales as his face returns stoic. "What were your plans before?"
Tom diverts from Harry's gaze, slightly sheepish. "Enthrone with being the descendant of Salazar Slytherin, I sought for the Chamber of Secrets hidden within Hogwarts' walls. My explorations provided bountiful knowledge. Knowledge which I propagated to Knights of Walpurgis in order to regulate the Muggles and Mud-, erm, Muggleborns. Such rich restricted Dark Arts embarked my discovery towards curses, runes immortality."
"Immortality..." Harry murmurs, recalling his previous encounters with Voldemort. The madman who's goal is to live forever reigning with fear, mass genocide as the most powerful wizard of all times.
The atmosphere darkens and Professor Dumbledore silently urges Tom to continue.
"On one particular night, in the Restricted section of the library, I encountered rather peculiar magic, one I have yet to fully comprehend. It briefly noted a method which uses an object to conceal one's soul."
"A Horcrux," Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows furrows and a frown crosses his face.
Horcrux? Wait... Back when Harry read Tom's diary, Tom also circles his note reminding him to ask Professor Slughorn about a term called "horcrux". Then viewing Tom's life, Tom reads various books on the topic hovering over the word "horcrux", but then the pages morph together becoming the floating candles of the Great Hall.
Tom nods, "The following day, I intended to further my understanding through Professor Slughorn. However, the arrival of a particular transfer student completely diverted my attention."
Harry blushes fiddling with the ends of Tom's sleeve, but turns back towards Professor Dumbledore's oddly pale complexion.
"Sir?"
Professor Dumbledore places down the parchment and walks to his desk. "This is beyond anything I have imagined. In all my life I have seen things that are unimaginably horrific. I know now... You will see much worse."
Harry and Tom exchange glances before turning Harry returns his attention to Professor Dumbledore, "Sir, I don't understand. What is a Horcrux?"
"Dark, malevolent magic. For one to 'conceal one's soul', an act of unspeakable atrocity, a true violation against nature, must be committed," Professor Dumbledore remains at his desk, detached.
"Murder," Tom answers.
He hums. "A Horcrux allows one to split their soul and seal in an object. Though the body may be attacked or destroyed, that fragment of the soul will survive." Professor Dumbledore hesitates, "In other words, they cannot die."
Harry's eyes widen, "Do you mean to say Voldemort succeeded in making a Horcrux?"
"Far worse my boy..." Professor Dumbledore slides open a drawer and drops a small golden ring and a tattered diary with a hole in the center, "He succeeded in making more than one."
"Tom Riddle's Diary..."
"The Gaunt's Ring," Tom adds enthralled.
"You recognize this ring?" Professor Dumbledore urgently questions.
Tom hesitantly nods.
"The ring which belonged to Voldemort's mother. Such precious commodities which you hold so dearly. Seems my theory is correct, how far there is still to go... Tell me what other Horcruxes are there?" Professor Dumbledore inquires with a pressing mad gaze.
Tom's expression darkens. A heavy pressure tightens around Harry's palm as Tom's eyes challenge Professor Dumbledore, "I have not produced any Horcruxes."
A realization overcomes Professor Dumbledore's outburst. He sinks into the back of his seat and covers his eyes with shame. "Ah... Please accept my deepest apology. Such a convenient solution caused my judgment to be rather hasty. With your insights, perhaps you verify what objects he may have used."
"Voldemort has fifty-four years of experience in this timeline, what he has discovered is unknown to me," Tom crosses his arms with Harry inside.
"His Horcruxes could be anything," Harry frowns. "He could've used a grain of sand and thrown it into the ocean."
"Most intriguing thought Harry," The headmaster strokes his beard. "However, one as prideful as Voldemort wouldn't use mundane objects to guard his precious soul. Need you forget what I have shown you? He collected trophies... Objects with a significant power or magical history."
"Seems as though you have an inkling to what these Horcruxes may be," Tom glares.
"My speculations are to your perspective," his voice challenges. "Delving to Voldemort's history, I believe he has chosen items with grandeur, which relate to his heritage, and which have disappeared during his youth. Such as a certain locket and cup."
"The Slytherin's Locket and the Hufflepuff's Cup?" Harry asks.
Tom's gaze shifts to utterly astonishment, "Two of the Four Founders' relics. The locket, cup, diadem, and sword. The profound pillars of Hogwarts..."
"Hm... It appears such artifacts have also captured your interest. Indeed they must be his Horcruxes," Professor Dumbledore muses. "Is there anything else he cherishes that I may have overlooked?"
Tom lowly growls, "For me to comprehend what he cherishes is grueling. As of now, everything I previously possessed is lost, all objects of the past I find completely obsolete. I have no title, nor history, nor connections. Here I have absolutely nothing. Only one I cherish, and it is Harry."
Tom's confession makes Harry's heart skip and sink at the same time. However, Professor Dumbledore takes Tom's proclamation much more heavily. It's like Professor Dumbledore had more perception of Tom's words, like a dreadful foresight lost to Harry.
Harry stares at the book and the ring on the desk. "Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, sir? Can he feel it?"
Professor Dumbledore stares sorrowfully at Harry for a lengthy amount before answering. "I believe not. Voldemort isn't like us. He cannot love. For his is now so immersed in evil, crucial parts of himself have been detached for so long, he does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the point of death, he might be aware of his loss... But it's unlikely because he was not aware when the diary had been destroyed. When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that his anger was terrible to behold."
"So..." Harry bites his lips, "If you could find them all, if you destroyed each Horcrux--"
"One destroys Voldemort." Professor Dumbledore nods.
"...How can I help?"
"We," Tom corrects.
Harry smiles at Tom before turning back to Professor Dumbledore, "How can we help?"
"Ah, I must apologize once more. Horcuxes can be hidden anywhere, it's magic, it's Dark magic leaves unreliable traces. Perhaps Horace's memory is the answer once more. Finding out how many Horcuxes requires your aid," Professor Dumbledore stands.
"Thomas R. MarGaunt," he draws Tom's attention. "Should any revelations come, do not hesitate to inform me. The effects of Veritaserum wear off in an hour, so it's best if you remain here." Tom callously shoos Professor Dumbledore off, however, the Headmaster takes no offence. He turns back towards Harry, "I trust this discussion will remain between us. Now, we have a supper to intend to, you must be hungry. I know of several individuals who would find great comfort in sharing a meal with you."
With that final farewell, the Headmaster leaves his office first. He should be heading out as well. Harry wiggles his way out from Tom's grasp, gathering his bag. There he finds his wand, the Marauder's Map, the Half-Blood's Advance Potion-Making textbook, and the Cloak of Invisibility. Everything is in order. Harry slings the sack over his shoulder and looks back to a downcast Tom.
Harry chuckles, "Think you can manage without me?"
"Absolutely not," Tom replies, rising to button up Harry's shirt all the way collar. Without Harry's tie or robe, he's uniform is dreadfully un-Gryffindor. Tom traces Harry's lips with his thumb, before his lips take its place. Off guard by the kiss, but Harry couldn't stop from instinctively leaning closer. The way Tom holds him is like he'll disappear if he lets go.
Eventually Harry breaks away and locks eyes Tom's hesitant ones. "Return soon, darling."
"Okay..." Harry's face turns a fantastic shade of crimson as he nods. He scampers out of Professor Dumbledore's office just in time to avoid hearing Tom's laughter echo behind him.
Harry runs down the corridor in a terrible effort to reduce his heart rate. He quickly turns the corner colliding into someone.
"Ugh," Harry grasps his wobbling head. Perhaps he isn't as recovered as he hoped. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention- Draco!"
Draco's shocked expression quickly morphs into a mixture of bitterness and pain. Before Harry opens his mouth to speak, Crabbe and Goyle appear at his side.
"Look who finally decided to wake up from his little beauty sleep!" Crabbe jeers.
"Beauty sleep? Please, he needs years for that to actually work, right, Draco?" Goyle chuckles.
Draco remains silent, but clenches his fists.
"Draco, can we speak privately?" Harry reaches out, but Crabbe and Goyle block his view.
Crabbe eyes Harry up and down, "Woah, better watch out, Draco. Potter the poof is hunting for Slytherins now."
"What's wrong, Potter? Your blasted boyfriend liked you better when you were unconscious?"
Harry growls lowly, releasing a dark aura, "Shut up, Goyle. Don't you dare talk about him like that." Goyle steps backwards as Harry stares at Draco.
"Draco, I want to talk to you."
Draco hesitates for a moment when their eyes meet, like he is debating with himself where he or not to follow Harry. "Potter I..." He inhales.
"I say twenty points from Gryffindor for running in the corridors."
"What? You can't--"
"And an additional twenty for your unkempt uniform."
"Sod off, Malfoy!" A familiar voice interjects.
"Ron?" Harry gapes.
Hermione crosses her arms appearing beside him, "I'm quite certain Madam Pomfrey would be displeased to find you three causing harm to her recovering patient."
"Hermione..."
Draco clicks his teeth in frustration and turns away. "Potter you..." He mumbles to himself while glaring at Crabbe and Goyle. "We're leaving."
Harry could only watch as Draco walked further out of reach. His demeanor isn't like his usual unbearable Malfoy superiority. Draco is so stressed, so lifeless. It's as if an immense burden is weighing him down, threatening to consume him completely. If only Crabbe and Goyle weren't there, maybe Draco would have opened up to him. Next time, Harry will be sure to get Draco alone, then hopefully he could help alleviate some of his woes.
Suddenly, a swift smack lands on the top of Harry's head.
"Ouch!"
Hermione glares at him, her eyes glistening with tears, "Harry Potter, you absolute idiot! You terrified us to death! What happened? Are you alright?"
"You ask me after hitting me?" Harry rubs the back of his head.
"What happened to 'Madam Pomfrey would be displeased to find you three causing harm to her recovering patient'?" Ron teases, mimicking her voice.
"Oh, sod off Ron! You--"
In a moment of overwhelming relief, Harry pulls both Ron and Hermione into a tight embrace. They lean into each other, savoring the comfort of each other's arms.
"I missed you both so much."
"You missed us?" Ron asks, confused.
"I mean, it's good to see you," Harry coots closer, completely engulfed in their presence.
Hermione breaks from the embrace, wiping her tears. "Well, Malfoy is a complete git, but he's right about your uniform. You can't be seen representing us like this."
Harry laughs, as the Golden Trio stroll down the halls of Hogwarts, back to the Gryffindor House. He revels in the pure joy of being reunited with Ron and Hermione. In 1942, Harry tried to direct his attention solely on the mission, but there were times where he genuinely felt lonely without them. It doesn't matter now, they are walking together in a comforting silence. It means so much.
Hermione shifts closer to Harry, her cheeks tinged with pink. "So, is it true?" She hesitates. "Your boyfriend..."
"Well..." Harry scratches the tip of his nose. "It's a bit complicated."
"Hey, you're still Harry Potter, no matter who you decide to snog, but are you sure about that new bloke? He seems a bit daft and dreadfully smug."
An accurate description of Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"Ron, you know MarGaunt's name, so use it!" Hermione nudges his shoulder. "We support whoever you want to be with, it's just Ron is jealous of his keen intellect. Honestly, I'm rather impressed as well."
"Really?" Harry asks, as Ron whispers the password. The doors open into the Gryffindor Common Room.
Hermione nods begrudgingly. "He's absolutely brilliant. A mere fifteen minutes of class time daily, and he already manages the top spots. Do you happen to know where he studied previously? No, wait, what caused your injuries, was he involved?"
"Merlin no! He didn't do anything! Although I am not sure of the complete details of..." Harry rubs his arm thoughtfully. "But! He's had a rough past. He was an orphan raised by Muggles like I was. So we related to each other on that, and--"
Snow-white feathers dart through the lights, brushing past Harry's sight line and swirling around his head. Every pass, a gentle peck would tug on his dark brown hair. A familiar owl swoops down swiftly, landing on Harry's shoulder, affectionately nibbling at his ear.
"Hedwig!" Harry exclaims, cradling and petting her. She hoots pulling Harry towards his room. He opens the trunk by the foot of his bed, finding all his belongings exactly where he left them. Harry pulls out a small biscuit and feeds Hedwig a nice treat. There's a sense of nostalgia as he begins to store away some items and change into his robe.
Harry adjusts his collar, so he could tie his tie. Seizing the opportunity, Hedwig snuggles into his shirt, poking her head out from his unbuttoned collar.
"Oh!" Ron snaps his fingers.
"What?" Harry asks, pulling Hedwig from his shirt as she pouts in response.
"That new bloke is probably training to be a Healer or somethin', that's why Madam Pomfrey only allowed him near you. He's too smart for his own good, doesn't even have any Galleon to buy robes, and he doesn't know anyone here, so no wonder he's so clingy."
"Ron!" Hermione scolds. "Ignore him, Harry. MarGaunt was truly attentive while you were unconscious. In fact, he diligently stayed by your side for the entire two weeks."
Harry pauses, midway placing his wand in the holster. "He did?"
Back in 1942, Harry experienced excruciating loneliness, the only way to numb the feeling was to focus all his energy on trying to find a way home. Is this what Tom is suffering through now? The sinking feeling of emptiness, isolation, confusion.
"As of now, everything I previously possessed is lost, all objects of the past I find completely obsolete. Now I have no title, no history, nor relationships. Here I have absolutely nothing..."
Tom Marvolo Riddle is a name long forgotten, and in its place "He Who Must Not Be Named". Tom has no connections as the Heir of Slytherin, and no Slytherin familiarities. All that he ever accomplished, that he ever worked for are now tainted by the other him. Nagini is like how Hedwig is to Harry, but now she lost to him as well. Here, Tom has absolutely nothing, and Harry's purely to blame...
"Flipendo!"
Harry shouts, hurling Tom's body into Draco's, causing both into the Rune circle.
In Harry's efforts to protect Tom, he stole--
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione touches his shoulder.
"It's nothing," Harry mumbles.
Hermione clearly doesn't believe him. "You have a lot of secrets, but since you woke up, I won't press too harshly. Nevertheless, I expect a full explanation soon. Perhaps MarGaunt will contribute something to the discussion."
"In the meantime, we can make it for supper. Come on!" Ron smiles holding him on the other side.
"Right," Harry bites is lower lips and blushes. "Although I think I'll be leaving a bit earlier. There is something I want to do..."
After, when the effects of Veritaserum dissipated, Tom promptly exits Dumbledore's office. He was tempted to latch himself to Harry's side, however he won't impose himself with his other reunions... At least for now. Thus, he searches for a more isolated location. Classes have concluded for the day, so he opts for the Astronomy Tower. He transfigures a large elongated dark green lounge with dark oak accents. Tom reclines leisurely, gazing upon the constellations magically imposed above. For over two weeks a restful night has been out of his reach, yet he finds himself unable to drift into slumber. Not while thoughts preoccupy his mind.
Dumbledore's interrogation had been peculiar to say the least. It's evident he concealed viable information from both Harry and himself. The wrinkled relic's gazes were simultaneously overly calculated and burdened with guilt. What insights did he possess? If it pertained to Voldemort's Horcruxes, they are entitled to such knowledge.
Ah, Horcruxes.
The existence of them presents such a significant dilemma. Tom has contemplated creating two, one for himself and one for Harry. However, he would now need an alternative method to spend eternity together.
Tom Riddle's Diary, along with Gaunt's Ring, are the two cherished items which the vile vermin enchanted. The same two items which Tom has acquired and brought to this timeline.
How profoundly poetic.
Harry Potter altered his future so much, now even more. Tom finds himself unable to do anything, but protect him. Defeating Voldemort would be destroying his past and that disastrous path, he could have fallen in. However, piercing into his previous "Lord Voldemort" mindset, he would consider...
Seven.
For seven is the most powerfully magical number. His soul into seven pieces, making six Horcruxes, will cause him to be divine.
His dairy.
The Gaunt's ring.
The Slytherin Locket.
The Hufflepuff Cup.
The Ravenclaw Diadem.
The Gryffindor Sword.
Six Horcruxes, seven pieces of his soul. However, Tom's conclusion felt off, like--
A breeze flows past him.
Tom abruptly rises, with his wand in hand. He scans his surroundings, then without warning, he blasts towards a faint noise. However, his spell deflects downwards, and a familiar laughter ensues from the abyss.
"Wait, did I surprise the great Tom Riddle?" An angelic soothing voice asks.
"Of course not," Tom scoffs, striding to the center of the room. He extends his hand, grasping into the air. As he closes his fingers, he encounters a soft fabric. Tom tugs the Invisibility Cloak downwards unveiling the breathtaking view of Harry Potter.
His darling's cheeks stain with a tinge of crimson, and he adorably pouts, "I see the Veritaserum wore off."
Tom hums lightly, placing his hand against Harry's cheek. "How was supper?"
"Well, it was fantastic to be with Ron and Hermione. However, it didn't last long as Hagrid squished me in his arms. Then Fred and George insisted on joining. There was Luna, Neville, Ginny, all my other friends..." Harry trails off, gazing at him awfully sorrowfully.
Tom would have used Legilimency to delve into the depths of Harry's mind. There he would comprehend all his concerns. However, the past weeks were terrible. Watching haplessly as Harry remains unresponsive, trapped in the limbo of time. Thus, what Tom truly yearned for was to hear the sound of Harry's voice, to have him articulate his thoughts and his feelings. To engage with him.
However, Harry does none of that. Instead he gazes into Tom's eyes and leans into his palm. Tom guides his hand away, losing the sensation of Harry's warmth as he steps back.
"If I recall correctly, you seem to fancy me in Red and Gold, Gryffindor attire. Does it compel you?" Tom deliberately flutters his robes as he returns to his seat on the lounge. He offers his most radiant smile, gesturing to the vacant spot beside him. "As for me, I'm rather fond of you in a brilliant green to match your alluring eyes. I suppose deep red is suitable enough. However..." Tom inhales switching to Parseltongue.
"You are most ravishing when wearing nothing at all."
Had Tom successfully managed to charm Harry into a flustered, bumbling state, perhaps it would divert him from his rather sombre thoughts. However, his efforts vain as Harry returns with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He shouts out muffling charms and privacy wards.
"Is that so?" Harry lowly hisses, stepping closer twirling his wand between his fingers. He slips off his robes from his shoulders and leisurely removes his tie from his neck, exposing his pale, delectable collarbone.
Momentarily stunned, Tom's eyes fill with lustful intrigue as he leans back. He wills himself to remain perfectly motionless. Harry taking the initiative? This should be interesting. Dangerously interesting.
"Now if I recall correctly," Harry moves even closer, "You were jealous of your so-called 'dream counterpart'. So... Allow me to rectify that."
Harry's trousers fall to the floor. Along with... his undergarment.
Tom gawks at Harry's bare legs, a true sight to behold. He releases a sharp breath and licks his lips. All the while, disregarding a rather uncomfortable constraint within his trousers. Vibrant emerald green eyes tower above him. With the tip of his wand, Harry loosens Tom's tie. His soft warm hands then carefully proceeds to unbutton his shirt. Once the cloth is removed from his skin, Harry plants a series of light butterfly-kisses from his neck down to his bare chest down to his lower abdomen. Harry pauses for a moment before unlatching his belt buckle causing Tom's previous restriction to gladly emerge from his trousers.
"Ah," Harry's cheeks turn an alarmingly beautiful shade of crimson, revealing his endearing embarrassment. He bites his lips, gawking at Tom's pulsating erection.
Pride swells up inside Tom as Harry is completely fixated on his aching member. However, he regrets ever claiming himself to be a patient man. Tom lifts Harry's chin up with his thumb.
"It's impolite to stare, darling," he rubs Harry's precious pink lips. "Especially after coming this far." Tom gives a self-satisfied smirk, guiding Harry towards his weeping cock.
"Wait," his perfect little tormenter says, pulling back.
Tom growls lowly desperate to reclaim Harry's presence. Nevertheless, his frustrations diminish as Harry positions both his succulent thighs on either side of Tom's lap.
Dear Salazar, Harry is straddling him.
Harry utters a familiar lubrication spell, making his exquisite arsehole leak. Taking a deep breath, Harry situates himself above Tom's throbbing erection. Instinctively, Tom's hands tighten around Harry's supple waist, guiding him downwards.
"Be still darling," Harry presses his hand on Tom's bare chest, echoing Tom's words when he carried him through the corridors. "And savor the moment." He coyly grins, sinking down.
"Nghh!" Harry grabs his shoulders, as divine moans slip past his lips. Such an erotic sound.
He readjusts his position barely allowing Tom's cock inside Harry's intoxicating velvet tightness. Two weeks have been too long. Matter of fact, these two minutes of tempting foreplay were too long. Tom's only halfway in, he fondles Harry's arse thrusting upwards.
"Don't move!" Harry gasps, clawing at his shoulders. "Please..." He begs. "I want to- Let me do this for you."
The sound of Harry's desperate whimpers nearly broke his composure, however watching his brash, bold, stubborn, Gryffindor so is determined. Tom would be a fool to deny him.
Tom sighs, sucking Harry's neck to leave his mark, "Oh, darling, why must you torture me?"
Harry's attempt at chuckling came out hoarse. He lifts himself up, then drops his weight all the way to his base. How could he remain still when Harry engulfs him completely? Harry exhales sharply and rolls his hips back and forth inciting a lustful burn deep within.
"Ugh..." Tom groans.
Wonderful. Combined with their scorching bond, he could feel everything. The way Harry's insides twitches and clenches around him. However, Tom didn't have the leisure of admiring Harry's red dusted cheeks, or his eyes hazed green eyes, when Harry starts bouncing.
"Fuck," Tom growls.
How Harry writhes on his cock is so, so... Intoxicating. How can he secure this for all eternity? After nearly losing Harry one too many times, Tom vows never to be without him again. In Harry's embrace, he feels absolute wholeness. Every part of his being yearns to envelope him entirely. They shall embrace each other until both are thoroughly satisfied. Nevertheless, Harry's adorable attempt to get him to cum first ends here. It's time for the Chosen One to prioritize his own pleasure. Tom grasps Harry's waist, thrusting directly at his prostate.
"Ah!" Harry's teeth sink into Tom's shoulder to muffle his screams. It feels divine. Unfortunately, Harry pulls away before he can draw blood. "T-T... Ngh... Tom! I said don't move!"
"Hush," Tom slurs, kneading Harry's arse. Then his lips return to their proper place. Tom's tongue barges into Harry's mouth, getting reacquainted with such lavish surroundings. Harry subconsciously wraps his legs around Tom's waist. As of now, oxygen is no longer required, he will exist solely by Harry's lips.
However, Harry's comfort is essential, so Tom momentarily withdraws. Just then Harry whimpers like a desperate, abandoned, adorable puppy. Oh, he would never neglect him in such a horrid manner. In fact, he considered locking Harry depth within Hogwarts, where he only knows.
"Bl-bloody g-git," Harry grumbles, rolling his hips trying to regain control.
Tom chuckles, brushing Harry's bangs aside, unveiling stunning glistening emerald green eyes. Harry's disheveled honey-faze expression illuminated by a flush pink glow is far too alluring. With a certain twitching member grinding against his abdomen. Tom had far better uses of his hands, so... How could he possibly restrain? Tom grips Harry's neglected penis and strokes it over and over again.
"W-wait! I'm going to- Tom!" Harry's beautiful voice echoes throughout the room. Thus, time leisurely flowed allowing tom to witness Harry climaxing his delectable fluids into the air. Harry flushes a deep crimson, gazing deep within Tom's eyes. He snuggles closer pressing their foreheads together.
Their soul connection surges.
Tom's reason snaps as he frantically thrusts into Harry, chasing his own release. From the moment he laid eyes on him, Tom was desperate to unravel all his secrets. How fortunate he is to unravel Harry himself. To reduce him into obscene ecstasy, to possess him, to become his.
Thrust.
His.
Thrust.
His Harry.
"You're mine!" Tom growls, plunging deep within Harry's wonderfully clenched arsehole. Harry screams, arching his back while Tom stains every cervice of his insides.
Harry's energy blows away like vapor in the wind. His collapses on Tom's shoulder, with Tom embracing him tightly. Still attached, they slowly ride out the waves of vigorous passion. Both panting heavily with sweat clinging to their skin. After such a mind-numbing sensation, the way Harry's breath tickles his right ear, makes Tom tremble with interest.
However, warm droplets fall on the back of Tom's shoulder, along with light sniffling. His eyes expand in horror. How could he be so foolish?! Whilst pursuing his own pleasure Tom recklessly harmed his most beloved!
"I was too forceful, wasn't I!? Are you--"
Harry shakes his head snuggling into the crook of Tom's neck. "No, you're stupid... Stupid bloody perfect." He mumbles.
Tom exhales with relief, stroking his fingers through Harry's soft curls. "Oh, is that so? I reckon those are tears of joy?"
He doesn't respond.
"...I'm sorry," Harry whispers.
Tom frowns. Why is Harry apologizing?
"Because of me, you have nothing here."
"No, no, no," Tom pulls Harry back, positioning them both to lay on the lounge. Tom gazes into Harry's unsure eyes. "Remove such thoughts from your mind. I possess more here than I ever had before because..." He kisses him on the forehead.
"I love you."
Harry's cheeks transform into a lovely shade of pink. He bashfully adverts his gaze.
"Ha...The Veritaserum definitely wore off."
"Why, I'm hurt," Tom smirks, thrusting back into Harry.
"Ah!" He covers his mouth.
Tom towers above his beloved, "Now, now none of that. It's just us, darling. No need to hide your voice."
Harry exhales and grins. A familiar mischievous glint returns to his eyes. "Well, if you want me to scream, you'll have to try harder than that... Darling."
Tom's right eyes twitches. In spite of all they endured, Harry remains unwilling to submit to his will. The sole individual capable of challenging him. Regardless of his efforts, he is unable to control his sly Gryffindor. In truth, he wouldn't have it any other way.
So scream, Harry does.
Two weeks, two tortuous weeks of forcing himself to pretend everything was normal. Of course, once he found a suitable mundane rhythm, those emerald green eyes awakened. Only to gaze deep into the depths of his soul.
"Draco, I want to talk to you."
The sincere, genuine concern in Potter's voice shook Draco to his core. When their eyes met he hesitated. The last he saw of Potter was him withering away on the Hospital Wing's bed. A part of Draco wanted to follow Potter, to question him about how he escaped 1942, how Riddle's existence impacts the present, or how he was simply doing.
"Potter I..." Draco inhales, watching Potter's eyes glisten with hope.
Hope.
Pathetic worthless hope.
Oh, how wonderful. The Boy-Who-Lived has woken up let's all prepare the finest celebration. The Chosen One he can't solve his problems!
Because...
Draco grips onto his Dark Mark.
Because he has been chosen too.
Draco shakes his head, those unnecessary thoughts only burdens him. He trembles until his back hits against the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco carefully ties a very peculiar parcel.
A parcel addressed to:
Albus Dumbledore.
Notes:
I used both movie dialogue and book dialogue for the Horcrux part. Also people get nosy when you are writing smut...
Next chapter:
Harry and Tom hunt for Draco, but Ginny corners Harry first about his "new boyfriend".
Draco is currently torn against the events of the past and what he should do next.
Chapter 19: It's Different Now
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A dimly lit surrounding, the atmosphere completely grim. This feeling... This moment... He knows this. It happened before. Draco thrashes about only to stop by his arms bounded to the armrests of a pale green chair.
No, this can't be. He made it back! This can't be--
"Sir. Our guest has awakened," a woman laughs.
"Well, well," A commanding voice answers. "Welcome back Malfoy," Grindelwald says sickeningly sweet.
Gellert Grindelwald? How is he--
"Don't fret you have chosen well. By the strength of the Dark Lord, you shall bring great glory." With one single flick of his wand the room shatters into emptiness, revealing a young girl in the center.
Judy...?
She glimmers with hope seeing him again. "Draco? I--" Judy releases an ear piercing shirek that shakes his core. "Stop please! It hurts!!! IT HURTS!!!!!!!"
Judy's screams morphs into two distinct voices, each desperately pleading for the torment to end. Those voices...
Mother?
Father?
"Stop!" Draco shouts, freeing himself from his restraints. He crinkles Grindelwald's collar, squeezing his throat.
Grindelwald smirks amusingly as cracks form on his skin, slowly chipping off piece by piece. Underneath isn't red flesh, no, his body becomes ghostly white. His cracked skin becomes scales and blood slit eyes stare back at him.
"My Lord!" Draco releases his collar, bowing instead "I beg you to stop! Spare them!"
"Why such an unreasonable request..." Lord Voldemort hisses, carefully circling him.
More anguished cries echo through the room. A wrenching intensity, shudders down deep into his bones. Draco begs for Lord Voldemort to stop, but the Dark Lord shrugs raising both his hands.
Draco's pupils dilate.
Lord Voldemort isn't holding anything. The only wand is... in his hand.
No.
His arm moves independently from his protests. Spell after spell strikes his mother and father until their bodies remain plaint, sprawl across the floor like animals. The flame burning at his parents' legs traveling up their body, just as it happened to Abraxas. After several seconds, thought it felt as hours, his trembling hand causing the wand to fall. Draco collapses to his knees. His parents warm blood stains his garments, but his blood is ice.
A light chuckle creeps in front of him.
"It's you, Draco. It's always been you," the Dark Lord explains. He leans down at Draco like a pest, his crimson eyes darken with menace. "Only one needs to suffer, but if you do not fulfill your duty. You know what happens next." Lord Voldemort's smile stretched across his face, "Go and kill Albus Dumbledore!"
He laughs manically, as dark spikes travel through the floor trapping him legs, slowly moving upwards to his throat.
No no, no, no...
NO!
Draco's heart jolts out his chest sending shockwaves throughout his body. Cold sweat trickles down his back, clinging to his skin.
A dream? No, a nightmare... No, no, far worse, it'll be his future if he-- Draco frantically rushes to the bin and empties out all the contents in his stomach. He lurches over the can heaving.
After a minute of gasping for air, Draco collapses on the floor looking up at the ceiling. Thank Merlin, the Slytherin Prefect had its own room. To have the other witness his breakdown over a nightmare would be catastrophic. Draco inhales and exhales trying to return to a steady heart rate.
He attempts to compose himself by the mirror. However, he catches the gaze of himself. His pathetic, utterly apprehensive self! There his reflection stares at him, it mocks him! A failure of Malfoy dignity. The longer he looks at himself the more he finds to hate.
"Malfoy," a voice echoes.
Then in the mirror Draco no longer sees himself, he sees his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy.
"Swear to me. No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family!"
That's right. His name. His family. This means more to Draco. All the others remain as an afterthought, they are meaningless in comparison. Draco glances over to the abandoned parchment he used to warp the parcel.
His plans are already in motion.
Following the previous night's lascivious activities, Tom lingers with the most restful sleep he had in ages. Harry's presence nestled against him is nothing less than bliss. A reassuring hand gently caresses his cheek, but Tom dares not to open his eyes and interrupt the delightful sensation. Harry's hand shifts downwards outlining the contours of his lips. Tom grabs his hand, causing Harry to flinch. When he opens his eyes, a wonderful view bursts into his sight. Harry's astonished expression reflects through his luminous emerald eyes. Those crimson imprints on his pale neck, those marks he left behind.
"Why Harry..." Tom bites Harry's index finger, then sensually licks it. "Care to explain yourself?"
A light dusting of pink spreads across Harry's cheeks. "The dark shadows underneath you eyes are fading. I'm glad you got sleep."
Perhaps a portion of Tom's heart thuds, but he recovered from Harry's unknowingly attack. "To seduce me so early in the morning..."
Harry's lips curl into a coy smile, "Is it working?"
A mischievous glint flashes through his eyes. "I wonder." Tom captures Harry's lips, pulling his delectable body towards his.
Sheer perfection.
With a few persuasive tactics, Tom could indulge in certain morning pleasures before classes commenced.
A grumbling noise echoes through the room.
Harry becomes motionless in astonishment. Tom huffs, capturing his lips once more. Again, his stomach betrays him, emitting a low rumble. He shouldn't have skipped supper.
"...Your face is red," Harry muses, squinting his eyes. "Wait, wait, wait. Dear Merlin! Are you embarrassed?" He asks with absolute glee.
Tom covers Harry's face, titling his chin aside. In return, Harry playfully grabs his hand and laughs in a manner Tom has yet to see. The moment is simultaneously domestic and humiliating. Only Harry elicits such responses from him, the ability to provoke him and emerge completely unscathed.
Harry sits up and presses his soft lips onto his forehead. "Let's get you some breakfast," he hums with a smile.
The warmth subsides, leaving Tom barren and isolated on the lounge. However, the swaying of marks scattered across Harry's bare back as he bends over to gather their belongings is a sight to behold. Such an exquisite plump arse... Tom gazes appreciatively at Harry's exposed divine form fully.
"Erm...," he replies self-consciously, "You know, I'm sure I'll be swarmed with questions. Oh, and I hope I don't have too much work to make up."
Tom exhales deeply, allowing his robe to drop to the ground. He intently watches as Harry desperately avoids glancing at his lower regions. He chuckles, stretching his arms and grabbing his wand. With a twist of the wrist Tom casts a spell which refreshes both their apprentice and their attire. He rids the lounge, reverting the Astronomy Tower to its original state, leaving only blissful memories. Harry's reactions during the next Astronomy class will be amusing.
He shifts his gaze back, only to find Harry parts his Invisibility Cloak, in an awfully familiar manner, inviting him back underneath his clothes. Tom crosses the room to embrace Harry inside his arms, both hidden from any outside view.
"Tom..." Harry whispers. "We should hunt for Draco if we have the chance. Hopefully, we'll get him alone this time."
Speaking of another whilst he is the one pressed against him? Such a kind and compassionate heart, enchanting yet revolting. What could he do to ensure Harry is completely his?
"Indeed hunt him down," he mutters, nuzzling into the crook of Harry's neck.
Harry's breath shortens as they stay hidden away until a suitable distance from the Great Hall. They uncover themselves and walk down the corridors only to be ambushed Weasley, Granger, and the twins.
"Harry Potter!" Granger screams. "Where were you?! Ron said you have been missing all night!"
"It's nothing, see we were--"
The Weasley twins encircle Harry, honing intently on his tousled collar, the very spot Tom was moments ago. One of the twins tugs Harry's shirt, exposing his neck, riddled with Tom's marks. Harry snatches back his collar, but the damage is done.
"Are those..." Weasley frantically gasps at the passion marks then shifts his attention towards Tom.
"Well, well, well..." one of the Weasley twins muses.
"MarGaunt, you lucky bastard," the other swings his arm on his shoulder. "How about we sweeten the deal? We have some potions you might find beneficial."
Dark aura sweeps through his veins. Were they implying to influence Harry's actions by use of a potion? The same method his despicable mother utilized in order to force herself onto his father? Stripping away his free will, thus creating a monster without the most basic of human qualities.
"Woah, woah. Looks like a misunderstanding is brewing," the twins back away with his hands up.
"Yeah," the other chimes in. He swirls a potion in front of Tom's face. "See our potions will help with drive, stamina, flexibly, and pain resistance."
"Most suitable for Quidditch matches. However, it could be useful elsewhere." He smirks.
Tom seizes the potion and whiffs the subtly spiced fragrance. In truth, the potion's ingredients are of high quality, and its brewing technique is expertly crafted. If the twins could provide a steady stream of material goods, perhaps they may prove to be beneficial; albeit, remaining irritable to no end. Tom gazes towards Harry, fantasizing how he would squirm underneath him.
"I suppose we could find some use for it. Isn't that right, Harry?"
"You wouldn't dare--"
"Pleasure doing business with you," the twins say in unison, wearing a self-satisfied grin.
A swarm of eyes gather around, directing their gazes towards himself and Harry. To alleviate the amount of attention he's receiving, Harry sprints into the Great Hall. By now, he should be aware how reputation precedes him, how quickly rumors circulate across Hogwarts, and how despite it all Tom will be diligently protecting him.
Upon entering, both Granger and Weasley opt for the seats beside Harry. It seems as though he isn't the only one protective. With Harry's beloved friends occupying the prime seats, Tom settles with the view across from him, resulting in him positioned between the twins. He lets out another long winded sigh.
Moments ago he spread Harry out across the constellations, and now he spreads butter on his toast.
Wonderful.
"So Thomas MarGaunt," Weasley mockingly annunciates his name. "You appear out of the blue, now didn't ya? Then as soon as Harry wakes you leech on him." He says while barbarically shoving his face with the glazed ham.
"Ron!" Granger reaches behind Harry to strike his head. "Pardon him, he is a bit... apprehensive. We know you were diligently administering the replenishing potion to him," She directs her tone more towards Weasley than himself, "But we never really had the chance to... converse with you."
After shallowing his spoonful of sauteed mushrooms, Tom nods. "I suppose a proper introduction is in order. I am Thomas MarGaunt, Half-blood on my mother's side. Due to certain, complications, I grew up in a rather unfavorable Muggle institution. My exposure to Magic was rather unorthodox, despite so I delved into its history with resounding vigor."
As a Muggleborn, Granger should be impressed, thus developing a kinship towards his situation. Once she smiles with a nod, Tom knows his tactic worked. One aversion diverted.
On the other hand, Weasley huffs, "Oh great, another know-it-all." Granger responds with an icy glare. He shrugs. "What? Weren't you the one who wanted 'full explanation'? Well, go on then. What did you do to Harry?"
"Ron," Harry interrupts harshly. "Professor Dumbledore was the one who brought us, and Tom, erm... Thomas didn't do anything to me."
"There's no need to defend me. I am aware of the things I did to you," he gives Harry a wink. Before he could retort, Tom continues, "Harry and I met under rather harsh circumstances. A difficult transition with immediate tension. Despite this Harry chose to recuse me, but in return my weakness caused his comatose. Never again shall such failure happen. I rectify it by securing Harry's future. Rather our future."
Hushed murmurs from the nearby bystanders travel through the Great Hall, not that Tom was ashamed of his declaration. Besides, Harry's tinge of red on his bitten lips is worth every second.
"So..." Hermione coughs stiffly, "So, it's true? You both are..."
Tom smirks at Harry, "Well Ms. Granger, I suppose I could share parts of the interworking of our most intimate, passionate--"
"If you say anything more, I will hex you into next week!" Harry yells.
"Feisty, isn't he?" One of the twins pats him on the back.
"Better put a leash on that one," The other laughs.
A leash?
What an intriguing idea.
"Ugh! Enough all of you!" Harry follows Weasley's action by shoving food in his mouth.
Tom chuckles. Although amusing, Harry has suffered well enough. He resumes his meal. He arranges the sautéed mushrooms and diced sausage on a slice of toasted bread. On top, he places a fried egg sprinkling on black pepper. With one hand takes a bite, savoring the rich flavors. The yolk bursts, leaking down his chin. Before the mess could spread, Tom wipes the yolk away with the back of his hand. He is about to take another bite, but pauses sensing a piercing gaze. He looks up to find green eyes watching him with fascination. Tom leisurely concludes his meal by licking the remaining flavor from his fingers.
"Those eyes are my downfall. Shall we adjourn to a more secluded location?" He muses.
Sadly, Harry doesn't take the bait.
"You're eating," he stares, "You're just eating normally."
Harry's companions look at him in confusion.
"Well, there's no need for intensive table manners as those pompous Slytherins."
His remark causes Harry to glance past him at the Slytherin's table. Harry hesitates when notices Draco. Their eyes meet briefly, only for Tom to observe the conflict on his face. Draco's eye-contact falters from Harry towards him. Dread replaces his expression as he exits the Great Hall.
"I have to go," Harry bolts to his feet, rushing after Draco.
Tom stands, "As will I."
They race out the Great Hall trailing behind Draco as he narrowly turns the corridor.
"Harry."
Long red locks maneuver between himself and Harry. The youngest Weasley glares at him with such suspicion and distaste.
Rotten girl.
"Ginny? Sorry, I'm busy right now--"
"Harry, I need to talk to you!"
Tom hiss and shoves past the girl, "Not to worry darling, I'll take care of it."
The youngest Weasley's face contorts in disgust when she hears Tom call Harry "darling". He had half a mind to jinx here then and there, however, Draco is a more pressing matter. Harry nods in return, ushering him to capture Draco. Turning the corridor, Draco fumbles with opening one of the closets.
Pathetic.
"Absolutely pathetic," Tom scoff.
Draco's pupils dilate and he retreats backwards.
"Scurrying about as a frightened fool. Your efforts to evade Harry, even while he was unconscious is indicative of your cowardice. Perhaps now allows me to rectify your ignorance, to spare you from certain obligations..." Tom gazes at where his Dark Mark sits. Bold of him to seek Harry's aid while under the allegiance of the putrid Dark Lord. Although, Tom is a man of word, and doesn't plan to reveal his pathetic secrets. However, if the masses were to find out Draco's true nature on their own...
"Is this how you plan to honor Malfoy's name, Draco? By running?"
Draco's fist clenches white, "Shut up."
"Oh?"
"I said, shut up."
Tom is astonished Draco had the audacity to speak to him in such a manner. "Disrespect will be the last of your tongue."
"Disrespect?" Draco scoffs, sneering at his red and gold tie. "You listen to me, MarGaunt. Your 'intelligence', your 'judgement' means nothing here. You are a pathetic nobody, a Mudblood, a lowly Gryffindor. You have no power, nor influence, nor any saying. Here, I am a proud Slytherin, a proud Prefect, a proud Malfoy! You deny your heritage and believe you're entitled to respect? Ooh, go on and obsess over stupid bloody Harry Potter. I wonder how he would react to a certain ring you could leave without!" Draco glares, moving in to whisper, "I know things Riddle, things you are no match for. When the time comes even the Chosen One that will fall like a dog."
Tom's eye twitches, his pores ooze out dark magic. Since when does a Malfoy dare to defy him? No, evermore how dare he insult Harry? Tom clenches his wand. In what manner shall Draco be withered into ashes?
"Expelliarmus!"
Tom's wand flicks out of his hand sliding into the ground. Harry runs in-between them and glares at Tom. "When I said 'hunt for Draco' this isn't what I meant!"
He softens his gaze to Draco. "Listen, I just want to talk."
"I have nothing to say to you, you bloody poof."
Harry sighs, "Fine. Then you can just listen." He reaches out, "You were--"
Draco slaps his arms away. "Don't touch me, Potter! I want nothing more to do with you! Ha, were you stupid enough to believe we would actually become friends? Did you actually fall for all my lies? You were just a means to get back. Being stuck with you was the worst thing to happen to me. Even worse than the day my father was sent to Azkaban. Those two weeks of you bleeding were the most peaceful weeks of my life. In fact, you should have stayed!"
"Draco... I did everything I could to help you."
"Well, fantastic work, Potter. Now, run along with your newly found lover. I'm sure your parents would be thrilled about who you picked."
Harry's expression flashes in hurt. Then his magic swirls through the corridor in unadulterated rage, his power may have exceeded his own. If his beloved wishes for torture, Tom would ensure no one could hear the screams.
"Don't you dare, you pat--"
"That's quite enough," an irritating nasal noise chimes. Standing before them is a pathetically broken man in desperate need of means to bathe himself.
"Snape," Tom jeers.
"Professor Snape, you impudent twit."
Oh, the other wretched Slytherin Tom will thoroughly enjoy lobotomizing.
The greased professor towers over Harry, "Wake for one measly day and already causing problems." Harry responds by rolling his eyes. "Detention for the rest of the week."
"Exactly what has Harry done to deserve such an outlandish punishment?" Tom cuts in before Snape could use Legilimency into Harry's thoughts.
"Accio," Tom's wand soars into Snape's grasp. Then he callously hurls it back at him. "I presume your wand was flung from your grip by none other than the Chosen One. To perform such spells outside of Hogwarts designated class, results in due punishment."
"On the contrary, such a spell was a demonstration towards a willing new student. See to it that your obscenely large nose steers clear from other people's affairs."
Harry audibly gasps, whilst Snape's bulging eye twitches. "Two weeks, Potter."
"Does common sense escape you?"
"Well, MarGaunt," Snape replies dryly, "You are a poor, new, ignorant student, pitifully oblivious of Hogwarts discipline. Any such disrespect is due completely to Potter's neglect."
"He was comatose, you inso--"
Snape hums with no other reaction, "No matter. Besides I find this to be more of a punishment for you. Can you survive without Potter's presence for more than an hour?"
Bastard.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor. Come, Draco."
Snape rests his hand on Draco's shoulder; however, he tosses out of the grip pushing him aside. Casting a fierce glare equal to Tom's own. He gazes at Harry only to be filled with a tinge of regret. However, all too brief Draco huff and strides down the corridors, resulting in Harry storming off in the opposite direction.
"I can't believe- He's such a--" Harry growls.
"Your memories undersold how utterly rotten a man Snape truly is."
"Oh, yeah, he is, but I was talking about Draco. He's a bloody stupid twat. After everything! He was changing, or maybe I found a new side to him? Two weeks and he decides to be even worse! Wretched, vile, dismissive! Something going on with him, I know there is! He really is one of them--" Harry cuts himself off.
"Of what, darling?" Tom presses.
Harry's gaze drops to the ground, and his body seems unable to accept the words he is about to utter next, so he whispers it in Parseltongue. "...a Death Eater."
Oh, how magnificent.
Naturally, someone as astute, brilliant as his beloved would arrive at the correct conclusion. Thus, Tom successfully upheld his commitment by refraining from unveiling Draco's pathetic secret. Now Harry is aware, so Draco's demise and subsequent punishment will be inevitable. A tragic catastrophic conclusion awaits Draco Malfoy. How long shall his deception endure? How long until his endeavors falter and the 'Dark Lord' collapses by his incompetence?
"But if it's true..." Harry's eyes shift to determination. "I can't, no, I won't let him out of my sight."
Tom huffs dissatisfied. Expose, not obsessive over Draco Malfoy. Tom lifts Harry's chin up. "What do you suppose I do to procure your attention?
"I..." Harry bites his lips. "I have detention because of you, so take comfort that you wouldn't be far from my mind."
His hand moves to Harry's cheek, giving a painless pull. "Cheeky."
Harry's grin morphs into a frown. "Tom, you shouldn't antagonize Snape. He will literally ruin your life. Especially now, with Ginny."
"The Weasley girl?"
Harry takes hold of his hand and discreetly leads him behind one of the stone pillars. He surveys his surroundings, then turns his gaze back to him.
"It's best to see for yourself," Harry states, his eyes intently fixed on his.
"Legilimens," he whispers in Parseltongue, and enters inside Harry's mind.
"Harry."
The youngest maneuvers between himself and Harry. She glares at him with such suspicion and distaste.
"Ginny, sorry, not now--"
"Harry, I need to talk to you!"
Tom hiss and shoves past the girl, "Not to worry darling, I'll take care of it."
The youngest Weasley's face contorts in disgust when she hears Tom call Harry "darling". Once Tom is out of view she glares at Harry.
"Darling?!"
"It's... It's a long story," Harry's cheeks stain a light dusting of pink. "But it doesn't matter now, because Draco is- Listen, I'll talk to you later, okay?" Harry tries to brush past her.
"Talk about what? About how the only one near you, while you were unconscious for two weeks, was Thomas MarGaunt? About how he looks exactly like Tom Riddle?"
Harry's heart sinks. "I... I don't..."
"Harry," the filthy girl clings onto Harry's forearm. "That diary. His diary. I dedicated months and months to it. I shared all my struggles, my deepest fears, my secrets. He was like a friend who is always with me, someone I could always confide in. But you know what happened next. He drained my life force. He stole my soul. The final image I saw in the Chamber of Secrets was a face that burned into my mind. It was his face. Thomas' face... No, Tom's face."
"What you've been through, it's awful, but this is different--"
"But nothing! Don't you see? He had two weeks without any disturbances. During that time he could have potioned, hexed you... Whatever he did, he is using you like he did with me. Listen you may not be in a sound state of mind, but I can help you. Voldemort will not--"
"He is not Voldemort, alright?!" Harry snaps. "Tom won't do anything to hurt me because he loves me as much as I love him."
The Weasley girl's face falls and her heart breaks. "Harry... No..."
"I have to go now," Harry shoves her aside to chase after Draco.
Slowly the memory fades, returning him back to harry's eyes.
The youngest Weasley will become quite the issue if left unchecked. Completely absorbed with her unfounded fantasies. It may be wise for Tom to take control of the situation himself. To divert her procedure before Harry reveals everything in full. Harry's story is flimsy at best.
"Draco... Ginny... The Horcruxes... It's too much..." Harry's voice breaks.
Tom's soften and he caresses Harry's cheek. "Of course the most pressing matter is the dissatisfying method of professing your love. Won't you say it to me directly?"
Harry snorts out a chuckle, "That's what you took away?"
"Harry," Tom smiles as Harry leans against his hand. "You shall no longer bear your burdens alone."
Though his actions comfort Harry, Tom had yet to hear Harry say those three simple words. It's endearingly infuriating. Nevertheless, his own desire to hear Harry proclaim his devotion is dire as well. Exactly when did he become such a hopeless romantic?
The clock bell chimes and Harry sighs, "Class is--"
Tom pins Harry against the wall and passionately claims his lips; ensuring the utmost comfort. Their bodies press together, intertwining the sweet touch into a hefty amount of desire. Tom slips into Harry's warm wet caverns and eagerly explores his mouth with his tongue. Before they became engulfed in the throes of desire, Harry withdrew. Only strands of saliva linger between them, while their forehead is touched.
"Lucky, you have a free period..." Harry pants lightly.
"Wouldn't want Slughorn to reunite with his best student," Tom hums.
"Whatever... Let's continue this later. See you after class." Harry put distance between them. Ah, there his precious Gryffindor goes again. Perhaps Tom would spend the hour in the library. Harry halts, walking back.
"I forgot something."
Tom chuckles, "Well, now. You ought to--"
Harry pushes down on Tom's right shoulder to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.
"I love you, Tom."
Tom's eyes grow wide and he is stunned. Before he could break his trance, Harry dashes down the corridors with unbelievable speed, weaving through the crowd. That swift, charming, foolish, remarkable, infuriating, bloody beloved bastard! How dare he slip through his fingers once more?! Tom leans against the pillar, as the masses fill the hallways. How unsatisfying... He yearns for more.
"Let's continue this later," Harry words echoes through his thoughts. A smirk travels across his face and he grins like a madman.
"Oh, Harry. You'll see me after class indeed."
The uneven rhythm of Harry's beating hearts somehow makes him faster. He rushes to the other side of Hogwarts with time to spare. Part of him is embarrassed, but others are filled with the maximum pride by throwing off that smug face. Tom was completely baffled by him. In all terms, he would say he won. It helps soothe Harry's thoughts until he burst into the Potion's class and looks the corner of the room.
Draco...
"You've always been a snobby, bloody git, you know that? Vile, cruel, brilliant. The epitome of a Slytherin. One who did things I wholeheartedly disagree with. But... Somehow it helped me. When you challenged me, it made me grow. I hope I did the same... Tomorrow, when everything goes back to normal, will we go back to Hogwarts like this never happened?"
He pauses and shakes his head.
"It's a terrible thought, but... I think I was relieved that you were stuck with me." He sighs, "Draco Malfoy. All I want to say is... Thank you. Not sure what will happen next, but I hope it works out. And I'd be glad to call you a friend."
That was before but now...
Draco slaps his arms away. "Don't touch me, Potter! I want nothing more to do with you! Ha, were you stupid enough to believe we would actually become friends? Did you actually fall for all my lies? You were just a means to get back. Being stuck with you was the worst thing to happen to me. Even worse than the day my father was sent to Azkaban. Those two weeks of you bleeding were the most peaceful weeks of my life. In fact, you should have stayed!"
To think Harry almost called Draco a friend. Was everything really an act? Back when they were captured by Grindelwald, Draco genuinely seemed to care about all the Muggles. Back when they were fighting side by side, or working together to get him. Back when Harry was so distraught and Draco held him so close... Were those moments all a lie?
"Well, fantastic work, Potter. Now, run along with your newly found lover. I'm sure your parents would be thrilled about who you picked."
Draco knows where to cut deep. But... His parents are smart; they would see how happy he is and how these feeling are true. They would see Tom isn't Voldemort.
Upon realizing Harry's gaze, Draco's expression shifts into pain. He promptly turns away, engaging in conversation with a nearby Slytherin. There. That's what confuses Harry. One moment Draco's enraged spouting out the most horrid things, then next he is in deep melancholy. If Draco truly is a Death Eater is it too late for him? Well, two weeks is a long time. The Death Eaters' loyalty to Voldemort is unmatched, and the Dark Lord's plans are unspeakable. Harry isn't sure what to believe, but will uncover the truth.
He has to.
"Oi, I saw Ginny tryna to find you, what l did she want?" Ron's question pulls him out of his daze.
"Oh, uh..." He can't tell him the truth about Tom. Not with Slughorn around. "She doesn't like Tom very much," he whispers.
"Well, I don't blame her. He's a snobbish know-it-all ya know?"
Harry thinks then nods while taking out his Advance Potion Making textbook. "Maybe. But there is something else too."
"Yes and it's not because he is a snob," Hermione rolls her eyes. "It's because she is in love with you."
"What?" He and Ron ask simultaneously.
Hermione's jaw drops, "Harry, you honestly didn't notice?"
"I..." Every interaction with Ginny comes into question. "I knew she fancied me, but it's just a crush. I don't feel that way about her at all. Matter of fact, I see her as my own sister... And besides I heard a rumor she has taken a liking to Dean. You know, Dean Thomas."
"She what?!" Ron shout.
"Hush!"
Hermione scolds Ron as Professor Slughorn approaches them. He smiles directly at Harry. "Ah, it is a pleasure to see you awake and well, my dear boy," he pats him on the back. "Your absence has certainly been felt..."
It's odd to experience Professor Slughorn of present trying to gain his favor versus the Professor Slughorn of fifty years ago from ignoring the dull "Harrison Evans" to adamantly vouching for his expulsion.
Professor Slughorn claps his hands drawing the class's attention. "Now, I believe we have spent a sufficient amount of time with one another. Thus, I wish to observe your abilities. Today's potion is quite the difficult one to brew called the Draught of the Living Death. The recipe for which can be found on page ten of your textbook. Additionally, I have a peculiar reward to offer the student which manages to brew it exceptionally within the hour."
The class murmurs and questions about what the reward may be. Professor Slughorn grins and pulls out a small glass vial. Its contents shimmer in the light.
"This curious little potion is known as Felix Felicis, more commonly known as Liquid Luck. A brew such as this, allows remarkable powers. One sip and you will find all your endeavors succeeded... At least until the effects wear off. Never before had a student recreate a perfect rendition of the Draught of the Living Death. Nonetheless, I wish you all good luck. Begin!"
Liquid Luck? Sounds like it could be a powerful asset against Voldemort. If Harry had such a potion when he traveled back to 1942, then he could have fulfilled his original mission of changing the course of time to stop Voldemort from existing, but would mean Tom would...
Harry shakes his head and pours the base into his cauldron and opens the Half Blood's Advance-Potion Making textbook. He turns to page ten, to the Half Blood Prince's annotations. The direction: "Cut up one Sopohorous bean" is crossed out and replaced with a scribble saying "Crush with blade to better release the juices". The Half Blood Prince is brilliant, and his instructions are simple and concise, so Harry does so.
An unconditional shock pokes at Harry's scar leaving a tingling sensation.
Odd.
Harry hadn't experienced that in a while. Not since avoiding Tom back in 1942--
No, no way. That's impossible. He wouldn't come here, not while Professor Slughorn is in the same room. It's too risky, it's too stupid, and Tom's far too smart.
Harry returns to the instructions and lowers the flame. However, the tugs on his scar remain and he feels a presence watching him. He then whiffs a familiar scent. Harry grabs the ladle and lightly clings on the side of the cauldron. At the sound of the two metal hitting he mumbles lowly in Parseltongue, "Tom?"
"Hello, darling," his silky voice slurs.
Harry's whole body quivers. He looks around the room to see absolutely nothing. He must have taken his Cloak of Invisibility, and used a spell so no one else could hear him. Harry dramatically grabs the next ingredient and cracks the shells. "What are you doing? You have to get out of here."
"Now, how can I possibly avoid you after such a display of affection, a profound confession? Your sly Slytherin antics left me quite unsettled... Unsatisfied."
Harry leans over the cauldron, allowing the steam to hide his flushed cheeks. "Didn't I say later?"
"Why Harry, I remember quite clearly," Tom's presence presses against his back. "'Let's continue this later. See you after class.' It is later and you can't see me, now can you?"
"Bloody bastard," Harry snaps back.
"What, now?" Ron looks up from his own potion.
"Uhh, sorry Ron. It's just the... potion! It's difficult!" Harry awkwardly chuckles.
"Really, now? Allow me to alleviate such difficulties," Harry swears he could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Tom... You can't be serious."
"Hush, darling..." Tom's breath brushes into his right ear. "We wouldn't want to cause a scene, particularly given my intense efforts to evade Slughorn. So simply keep your attention on brewing, and know you are mine."
Tom leans against his back.
"I love you, Harry."
A gentle touch nuzzles against his neck until it stops. Suddenly, Tom appears in his left ear.
"I adore you."
It's several minutes of Tom's whispers of sweet nothing's sending shivers down Harry's spine. His gentle touches left Harry disoriented. He's simultaneously nowhere and everywhere. Uncertain of his next move, Harry is complete at Tom's mercy. He made it extremely difficult to focus on the potion, but Harry is a stubborn Gryffindor. He lifts the parchment and tips the liquid into the cauldron. At that moment, he feels the outline of Tom's chin leaning on his shoulder.
"Stir seven times anti-clockwise," Tom lowly adds.
"No," Harry whimpers. "The book adds a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir, and I trust him."
Tom lifts his chin from his shoulder, suddenly Harry no longer senses Tom's presence at all. A frown crosses Harry's face, with a tinge of disappointment. Perhaps Tom finally lost interest? A sharp pain pierces his heart, he didn't like that feeling. Harry sighs, gazing into the bubbling cauldron string one final time.
Two hands warp around Harry's waist and pokes his marks on his exposed neck.
"Hey!" He yelps.
"Harry?" Professor Slughorn appears next to him.
The liquids slowly change into a lilac hue, and Tom starts grinding against him.
"Ah," Harry whispers as Professor Slughorn exclaims.
"Merlin's Beard! It's perfect! No doubt of the clear winner! Harry, you've inherited Lily's potion talent. Here you are, then, here you are! One bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
"T-thank you very much, sir."
Harry could feel Tom step back as he steps forward. He shakily accepts the tiny bottle of golden liquid from Professor Slughorn's hand. He dramatically shoves it into his inner pocket, trying to hide those red marks.
"Excuse me!"
Harry exits the room urgently, briefly noticing his classmates reactions. Some are angry and envious, others are sad. However, everyone's expression turns into confusion. He hurries down the corridors only to find Tom leisurely leaning against the wall, completely unfazed about what just happened.
"Finished already?" he remarks with a smirk.
"I can't believe you did that!"
Tom feigns defense, "Why Harry, I was embracing my inner Gryffindor. Stubbornness. Stupidity. Pure impulse..." He steps closer and leans down, "Besides, I am well aware how enjoyable you found it."
Heat flushes across Harry's face staining his cheeks bright red. "That's... That's beside the point. I was in class, trying to work!"
Tom crosses his arms, "You were relying too much on that book."
"Well, of course, the Half Blood Prince is a genius. The way he explains things is brilliant, far better than Snape ever had."
"Such high praise..." Tom clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I ought to hex him where he stands."
"You couldn't if you tried. See, he has improved all these potions. He even created his own spells like..."
"Sectumsempra!"
Cautiously, Harry steps closer, and pulls his robe off of tom. Gashes and blood rip through to 's clothes and into his skin.
Tom gasps, "H-Harry..." He reaches out to Harry's hand.
Frantically, Harry waves his wand all about. He chants various counter spells. Over and over again, but nothing working! Harry screams out every counter spell he has ever learned! But he can't stop the onslaught of slices etching into Tom's body.
Blood drips down.
Harry cringes.
Maybe the book isn't everything it's made out to be. Because with the Half Blood Prince's power he mutilated...
Tom soothes him into a tight embrace. He leans back and gives a reassuring smile, like he is alright, like everything is alright. Tom holds Harry closely and flips through the pages. "Ah... Indeed these notes are rather impressive. Perhaps, I'll spare him after all." Harry exhales a chuckle and snuggles onto Tom's arms. Tom rubs circles on his back. "Darling, I apologize. Seems my lust has gotten the better of me. Such indecency will never happen again."
"Never?" Harry pokes his head out, disappointed.
Tom raises his eyebrow, "Well, well. Interested in an encore?"
"Just ask next time," Harry winks.
"Those twins were correct," Tom smirks. "I am a lucky bastard." He tilts Harry's chin and leans down.
"Utterly repulsive," a gruff voice says in disgust.
"Professor Snape?!" Harry immediately pulls away.
"Class hasn't been formally dismissed and unwanted public display of affections? You just earn yet another week of detention Potter," Snape glaze shifts suspiciously to Tom, then he scoffs, "And there are other ways to deal with you lot."
That idiotic bloody git.
Absolutely wretched "Chosen One".
And those eyes.
Those stupid green eyes.
How Potter would stalk his every move filled with anger and confusion. Had he known what he had done, he would... No, Draco didn't need those eyes watching him.
Fortunately, Granger and Weasley divert his attention, and Professor Slughorn's potion proposition steals his focus. Draco too finds himself working diligently to obtain Felix Felicis, the Liquid Luck. It will guarantee his success. The knife slips from his grip cutting his index finger.
"Blasted!"
Potter mutters something. Draco glares expecting to find those bloody green eyes watching at him once more, but instead he sees Potter shifting uncomfortably. An odd bashful expression with his cheeks lightly dusted pink. Have his robes moved on their own ass well? Potter reacted this way before when Riddle--
Draco quickly turns away.
Again Riddle's possessiveness had no bounds, he's utterly obsessed. But, to do such in the middle of class is completely idiotic! And the Scarface git just indulges in Riddle's gastly grasp while Lord Voldemort--
Lord Voldemort.
Draco rubs his arm, the friction no doubt causing irritation on top of his Dark Mark. While Lord Voldemort is the one who holds true power...
After the indecent incident, Potter wins the Felix Felicis, and rushes out the room. Draco's hands tremble as he places back his unused ingredients. Secretly stashing away a few deadly materials. Once class is dismissed, he slips into the Room of Requirements to hide such items next to the Vanishing Cabinet. His palm slides against the wooden frame. Once the cabinet is fixed, a swarm of Death Eaters will overthrow all of Hogwarts. Draco shuffles through his trinkets and picks up the Echo's bell. It feels like he revieced this ages ago. If he so chooses, then bell would echo "Harmonia Nectere Passus" repeatedly, then the Death Eaters could come by next week.
Draco quickly places bell back. No. Now isn't the moment. Because, because... Ah, yes, a certain Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor is endlessly trying to counter him, and steal his glory! Potter isn't only thorn in his side. Also Dumbledore still stands. Yes, of course. Draco used a delayed delivery, so he still has more time.
Still has time...
Draco deliberately enters after Snape starts the session. Firstly to continue the inner workings of his plans, secondly, to minimize any chances of the professor from speaking to him. He can pass the tardiness towards his Prefect obligations. Upon arriving, a duel is in progress.
"Impedimenta!"
"Protego!"
Those voices...
Draco maneuvers between the spectators to get a view of the battle between Potter and Riddle. Just as their previous duel in 1942, Potter and Riddle are as evenly matched.
However, this battle seemed less intense. Potter's emotions didn't cloud his judgment, however, his ferocity still remains. This time Riddle is the aggressor. He strikes endlessly spells towards Potter, all while with proper form. Pure delight oozes from his expression from the thrill of battling his so-called "soulmate". On the other hand, Potter does what he is accustomed to dodges and speed. His movements were as if he was playing Quidditch. The way the cast spells at one another is opposing yet complementary. Almost as if they are dancing. A jinx, dodge. A strike, counter. They have completely captured everyone's attention, but are fully engaged with one another. Potter leaps backwards panting lightly. In return, Riddle gives a self-satisfied grin while wiping the sweat from his brow. Riddle twirls his wand as Potter shifts into a stance low.
Riddle.
Tom Bloody Riddle.
A false Dark Lord of a future that no longer exists. He's still a force to be reckoned with. He was the prime epitome of Slytherin perfection. Once able to display in power effortlessly, to command the room's attention, but now fallen into the depths over the one who dismantled all his ambitions. In this pursuit, he relinquishes all that he once recognized, all that he once was, just to remain alongside Potter. Wasn't he the one who told him, "Take pride in your family's name. It is a powerful one, not to be given to those unworthy"? Well, what if it now? Now, as the Heir of Slytherin denies his heritage, denies his destiny? Tom Riddle, no Thomas MarGaunt's strength, power, and intelligence still reign true. His conscious isn't as holistic as Potter's, but they joined forces, they would have the powers of both the Boy Who Lived and the past Dark Lord's potential...
"Confringo!" Riddle yells.
Potter dashes towards Riddle. However, at the ill-timed moment, Potter turns his head. At the exact angle the crowd shifts ever so slightly. In such a way, where emerald green eyes met his silver ones. In a millisecond, Riddle's attack flings Potter to the back wall. A loud thud echoes out as his stupid head impacts the stone. Potter hisses lightly and rubs the back of his head.
"Bloody hell..." He mumbles.
"Harry!" Riddle rushes to his side, gently caressing his injuries.
"MarGaunt wins," Snape announces.
"Absolute rubbish," he kicks Potter's wand to him. "Such a rudimentary spell could have been easily avoided if you stayed focused." He hits the back of Potter's head.
"Ouch!"
Riddle rips Snape's hand away. "You, insolent fool. Might I remind you, he's in the recovery process?" He lifts Potter's up into his arms. Before Snape could retort, Tom growls, "Regardless of the points you chose to deduct to appease your fragile self-worth, I will be taking him to Madam Pomfrey."
"What? No, I'm fine-- Wait!" Riddle ignores Potter's protests and exits the room.
Snape scoffs, his eyes meet Draco's. He quickly turns away. Hearing a sigh, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor announces the next pair to duel.
Tom exhales with frustration, cradling Harry in his arms. That vile, rotten Snape. Striking precisely at Harry's injury. Did he take pleasure at Harry's demise? Yet, the most exasperating fact is that the grimly professor is indeed correct. Had Harry maintained his attention solely on him, he wouldn't be in this situation. He tightens his hold and walks down the corridor.
"Honestly, put me down."
"Absolutely not."
Harry rolls his eyes, "Tom, I'm fine. Your attack hardly did any damage. I have gone through much worse during Quidditch practices."
"Is that so? Perhaps then you could enlighten me. As a battle as simulating as our other activities, what was it which stole your concentration?"
"Oh, uh..." Harry scratched the bridge of his adorable scrunched up nose, causing his glasses to skew slightly. "Well, he wasn't there when we began. Halfway through I saw... Draco. He looked so conflicted..."
Of course, it was Draco Malfoy.
"Ahem," someone behind them clears his throat.
Harry glances at the side, slides out of his arm. "Professor Dumbledore," He bows.
The old coot chuckles softly, "Hello Harry. Ah, and greetings to you as well, Thomas. Don't the both of you have lessons to attend?"
"Harry's health takes precedence over all classes," he sharply replies.
"Are you injured? Is it your blood?"
"Not at all Professor. Tom is overreacting."
Tom wraps his arms around Harry's waist, drawing him nearer as he strokes the back of Harry's head. "My reaction is in perfect moderation."
"Absolutely not," Harry mocks.
"Hmm..." Dumbledore hums. "I shall accompany you both to Madam Pomfrey. Won't want you two to sneak off and do rather indecent activities."
Harry flushes in embarrassment as Tom remains unwilling to release his grip. As they begin walking down the corridor, Dumbledore whispers, "Muffliato." Dumbledore slower his pace, "Harry, have you made any progress concerning Horace's memories?"
"Erm... Nothing as of late. However, I did get this," Harry shuffles inside his pocket and pulls out a small vile, filled with glimmering liquid.
"Ah, Felix Felicis, mighty potion indeed. It could be of great use to you."
Harry turns to Tom briefly and then back towards the Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, I have been more concerned about Draco and Ginny- Ginny! Ginny recognizes Tom as Tom Riddle! This could be a problem I should tell her the truth, Hermione and Ron as well."
The old man pauses, standing in the middle of the walkway. He slowly turns to Harry and shakes his head.
"But why, sir? They can help us, and--"
"Harry, don't you trust me?"
Harry's demeanor transitions meekly and in his unwavering loyalty he gasps, "What? Of course... Of course, I trust you."
"Then let it be. Given the high tensions, to reveal Thomas MarGaunt as Lord Voldemort will result in... unfavorable outcomes. No, it's not time yet. To do so will be unwise."
"Oh."
Such an unsettling interaction. Dumbledore's
reluctance to fully clarify his decision paired with Harry's acceptance of his loyalty, was uncomfortable. Tom found it utterly distasteful. Tom interlocks his hand with Harry's. He whispers into his ear, "Harry, I am quite comfortable with disclosing my past whenever you deem it appropriate."
"Me? You should have a say in when too," Harry chuckles lightly, completely unaware he too is speaking Parseltongue.
Dumbledore casts a look of disdain towards his direction. Tom knows of his inability to comprehend Parseltongue, however the old man's expression reflects the sense he knew Tom's words were against his. Rather than engaging in a confrontation and risking his secrets, he proceeds towards the Hospital Wing.
"So Thomas, have you anything to share?"
"I suppose I do."
"Really?" Harry preciously cocks his head.
"Indeed. Reflecting on my previous mindset, I would contemplate the use of..." Tom stares at Dumbledore.
"Seven."
With a single word he seemingly understands. Dumbledore strokes his brush, "Ah, seven, yes. The most powerfully magical number. Such an idea of a seven-part soul would greatly appeal to Lord Voldemort."
"Seven? Are you saying... He created seven Horcruxes?" Harry asks utterly horrified.
"If, and only if, it were true, then no. See, not seven Horcruxes, but a seven-part soul. One remains steadfast inside his newly resurrected body, and the six others scattered about," Dumbledore explains.
"So six Horcruxes then," Harry nods.
"Excluding the Ring and the Diary. If Voldemort favors such artifacts I have, then the remaining four would undoubtedly be the Slytherin's Locket, the Hufflepuff's Cup, the Ravenclaw's Diadem, and the Gryffindor's Sword."
"A compelling argument for the three, I am, however, quite confident only the relic of Gryffindor remains safe. Although after consideration, I ponder about what others he valued enough to create into a Horcrux... I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious about the behavior of a certain snake."
"Nagini?" Harry asks.
"Nagini..." Tom repeats.
Nagini, the beautiful serpent which he confided in, which only he understood. How she would greet him with pure benevolence and delight, then curl herself against his neck as a symbol of his true nature as the Heir of Slytherin. He could only wish, wherever she found herself, she would remain unharmed and lead a fulfilling life.
Harry squeezes his hand in an effort to provide him comfort. Harry undoubtedly attributes any of Tom's unease due to his own action of striping him from 1942.
"It's alright darling," Tom hums into Harry's unruly curls. "With you I have no regrets."
Harry bites his lips, unable to fully trust his words. His gaze returns to Dumbledore. "Sir, can animals become Horcruxes?"
Dumbledore pauses at Harry's question. He regards him with an inscrutable expression. He enters a trance as his eyes reflect a trace of sorrow, almost as if he is gazing at Harry's forehead. However, the moment quickly dissipates, and Dumbledore returns to his irritating neutral demeanor.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
"Of course... Any living creature can become a Horcrux," He clears his throat and continues, "In this case however, Nagini represents a Slytherin connection. A connection who enhances Lord Voldemort's mystique. He certainly keeps her close and is rather fond of her. His control over her also exceeds the amount of even a Parselmouth."
"Well, this is fantastic!" Harry holds both Tom's hands. "We know all the Horcruxes."
"Unfortunately, it's purely speculation. If we assume he created seven and he created more, we should be lulled into a false sense of security. However, if we assume seven and he created less, our precious time would be wasted on hunting phantoms. I do what I can, but the only way of truly knowing how much Voldemort has created, is by Horace's memory. After all..." Dumbledore turns to Tom and smiles, "Thomas MarGaunt is not Tom Riddle."
He waves his wand to remove the Muffliato spell as the stand in front of the Hospital Wing. "I suppose this is the end of our journey. I quite enjoyed our discussion. Till then Harry, Thomas."
"Till then sir," Harry bows, answering for both of them.
Tom's eyes narrow as Dumbledore's figure reduces down the corridors. He hesitates, contemplating the Ancient Relic's enigmatic demeanor. His expression, his words were so cryptic, implying he possesses knowledge far beyond that he is willing to share.
Harry grasps the hems of his red robes, his brilliant emeralds brimming with concern and anxiety. "Tom, are you alright?"
"Not to worry darling," he kisses Harry's forehead, indulging in the warmth of their bond. "We are here for you." Tom leads Harry inside.
Madam Pomfrey twirls her wand, and the bedsheets tighten neatly over the beds. The sound of the doors captures her attention and she smiles brightly at the two. "Well, if it isn't Gryffindor's newest pair." She gives a hearty chuckle, "What seems to be the problem?"
Tom guides Harry to Madam Pomfrey and carefully caresses the back of his head.
"Following an unfortunate dueling altercation, Harry sustained a head injury. After Snape decided to strike such injury to induce more pain."
"Oh dear. Let's examine it, shall we?" Madam Pomfrey waves her wand to perform a diagnostic spell. Then she applies light pressure to the back of Harry's head, causing him to wince momentarily, but he quickly recovers. She hums lightly and smiles. "Not to worry, it appears to be minor. I must say you have sustained more significant injuries during Quidditch matches." She chuckles.
Harry glances at Tom with a self-satisfied smug. His expression conveys "I told you so."
A cheeky reaction he would expect no less. Nevertheless, allowing Harry to remain with the upper hand isn't in his nature. Tom scoffs in return, stroking at Harry's cheek, "Thank Merlin it isn't serious. Such a thing would cripple me once more..."
This warmth spread across Harry's cheeks at the sincerity of his concern.
Twenty points to Thomas MarGaunt.
"Though minor," Madam Pomfrey renounces her presence, "This potion should alleviate any discomfort."
She presents Harry with a potion, which he consumes, albeit somewhat too hasty for Tom's preference. Harry swallows the liquid with a satisfied exhale. Should Tom feel envious of a mere glass vial? He disgruntledly hisses.
"As I thought..." Madam Pomfrey's expression falls, "Perhaps Professor Dumbledore was too hasty in allowing you to resume your classes."
Tom smiles charmingly, "Then the weekend tomorrow, I shall ensure Harry takes the opportunity to rest. He won't have to lift a finger." He readjusts Harry's glasses.
"Rest will regain his strength, however a relaxing outing will do wonders. Perhaps the two of you would enjoy a trip to Hogsmeade."
Harry's eyes glisten and burst with excitement. "That'll be fantastic! Tom's supplies are rather thin, so now I can get him a proper scarf before winter."
"Harry, might I remind you I shall be spoiling you?" Tom teases the tips of Harry's curls.
"Ha, you and what Galleons?"
Tom's eye twitches.
Is Harry suggesting that he lacked the means and resources to care for him? Is he insinuating that he would be the one supporting him? How utterly preposterous... Initially, Tom remained indifferent to maintaining his unnecessary ambition to obtain Hogwarts' top spot. However, he will now exert every effort to ensure he becomes a professor, no, the Minister for Magic. He shall be the one providing Harry with a lavish life of anything he wishes, while simultaneously concealing his past.
Harry and Madam Pomfrey turn towards each other and gaze at him full of concern. "Tom?" Harry gently grasps his hand.
"Oh, just you wait my dear. Just you wait..."
Hogsmeade the next day is far from the "relaxing outing " Madam Pomfrey envisioned, but the stormy weather didn't dapper Harry's mood. A day of mundane shopping with Tom is a great distraction from his other pressing thoughts. Hermione and Ron join them on their trip, even briefly running into Hagrid before entering the shops. Having his friends here helps immensely. Inside the shop's window shakes, but the bitter cold winds don't enter. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stand towards the front watching as Tom intensely shops for supplies.
"Why is he picking the sparrow feathers? He knows it's absolutely atrocious for holding ink," Hermione gasps.
"I'm not sure. He's been acting strange ever since yesterday..." Harry rubs his hands together.
"Looks like bloke's trying to stretch a Galleon," Ron nods, crossing his arms, with a hint of respect. Harry and Hermione turn towards their usually disapproving friend with surprise. "What? Sparrow feathers are discounted."
Tom approaches Harry, Hermione, and Ron, while carrying an assortment of mismatched, cheap items. Harry turns to Tom and frowns.
"Are you sure you want these? They're better--"
"These will suffice," Tom replies with a knowing grin, "Besides what purpose of magic if it's not utilized?"
Harry eyes Tom suspiciously, but gathers the items to the checkout. Whilst the cashier calculates the total, Harry notices Tom's glare growing more and more intense as the price increases. After completing his purchase, Harry wraps the new scarf around Tom's neck, ensuring he'll be bundled and warm. The four exit the shop, only to be met by a blast of frigid, bone chilling winds.
Without hesitation, Tom wraps around Harry from behind, he presses his forehead against Harry's. Their connect shots a wave of heat causing Harry to subconsciously lean towards him.
"Does this feel better, darling?" Tom's hot breath tickles against his ear.
"Ugh," Ron gags at the public display of affection.
"Am sure Granger would share some of her heat if you ask," Tom muses.
"What?!" Hermione and Ron reply, looking a bit warmer already.
Harry rolls his eyes, "Don't tease--"
"Harry, my boy!" a booming voice yells from behind them.
"Oh no," Harry gasps, forcing Tom's face into the crook of his neck. Tom is covered as the three turn to see Professor Slughorn rushing towards them.
"There you are," he exclaims joyfully, "You gave quite the slip after class yesterday."
"My apologies, sir I--"
"Now, a talent as Lily's herself needs not to explain himself," he chuckles at his word play. It's then Professor Slughorn realizes Hermione, Ron, as well as Tom clinging to his back. "Well, well if it isn't Miss Granger, quite the brilliant you are, and is this Harry Potter's rumored beau? It's a pleasure to meet you," He extends his hand.
Harry bites his lip, "Sorry, he is a bit... sensitive to the cold."
"Not to worry, I understand the sentiment. Although, I sincerely hope that he grants you brief freedom to attend one of my dinner parties. It would be a pleasure to see you and Miss Granger. I'm determined to have you!"
"Be delighted, sir," Hermione responds first.
Tom nuzzles closer to Harry's neck and mutters something he couldn't quite make out. Realize he hasn't answered, Harry nods his head. "Of course, sir."
"Brilliant," Professor Slughorn claps his hands. "Be sure to watch for my owl." He briefly glances over to Ron, but doesn't say anything. Then he rushes into the Three Broomsticks.
Harry releases the breath he has been holding and lightly pats Tom's head. Tom perks up and rubs the tip of his nose into Harry's cold cheek. "I said, you haven't flattered him enough."
"If anything, he's the one buttering you, mate," Ron huffs in disdain.
"Flatter Professor Slughorn? Why?" Hermione asks.
"Erm, Professor Dumbledore asked me to get to know him."
"Get to know him?" Hermione asks again, this time her eyes squinting.
"It must be important otherwise Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have asked."
Hermione's brow raises and she crosses her arms. "That's very well and all, but why is MarGaunt involved? Matter of fact, why didn't you want Professor Slughorn to see him?"
Harry quickly turns to Tom, in return he receives a comforting squeeze. "Well, actually--"
At that very moment, a Gryffindor girl, Katie Bell, rises up into the air, causing a strange open package to drop to the ground. Her hair whips violently in the wind, but her face remains eerily placid. Her friend, Leanne, takes a step closer and Katie's eyes shoot up and she screams and shrieks. Leanne tries to grab her friend's feet and pull her down, but Katie's arm twists upward in the sky Harry, Ron, and Hermione dash to help. As soon as Harry and Ron tug on her legs, she freezes and gravity causes her to collapse down. Her body thrashes and contorts on the ground, continuing to shriek.
"Get back!" Hagrid appears from the snow, "Lemme see her!" He evaluates the situation and without a word, he bends down and scoops her into his arms. He quickly heads toward the castle. Leanne follows behind him and shakes her head.
"I told her not to!" Her voice echoes.
Not to? Harry's eyes narrow on a torn package contrasting against the white snow. Poking through the parchment wapping is an ornate opal necklace, he reaches for it.
"Don't!" Tom yells, and rushes to yank him away. Tom holds Harry's hand and shakes his head. "Even a single touch will curse you."
"Curse?" Ron gasps, stepping close towards the necklace, Hermione holds him from getting too close.
"Effective enough to kill. It's evident by her actions, she was controlled by another," Tom states.
Hermione's eyes widen, "Are you saying she's been Imperio?"
The Imperius Curse.
Harry shudders recounted the event when he Imperio-ed Headmaster Dipper. He stares back at the necklace and removes his scarf. Tom scowls in disapprove, but Harry ignores him carefully wrapping the scarf around his hand. He maneuvers past Tom's arms and bends down to retrieve the necklace without making direct contact. The label is smudged and torn, but barely reads, "bus" and "Dumb" Harry frowns unable to make out the rest.
"We have to bring this back."
Upon the return to Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore unfortunately already departed, leaving them to be questioned by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. She wants everyone who was present during the incident, but will recognize Tom if she sees. Neither Leanne nor Hagrid have seen Tom, so Harry practically begs Ron and Hermione to persuade Professor McGonagall Tom wasn't involved because he doesn't like her very much. They are confused, but agree to his request.
Leanne's eyes are red from crying, and breathe in once more. "Then... she accidentally smudged the parcel's post markings. I-I told her to leave it be, but she said she was n-now responsible... We started arguing and when I pulled the package away it was torn open... And she, she--"
At this point, Leanne became so distraught the couldn't speak another word. Hermione races by her side to comfort her. Professor McGonagall places a hand on her back sympathetically and allows her to leave first. However, Professor Snape's eyes harden at the parcel. Almost as he recognized something about it. When he catches Harry's stares, he scowls. He takes out his wand and lifts the necklace like a dead snake.
"What do you think, Severus?"
"I think, Miss Bell is lucky to be alive," Snape hums, dropping the necklace down. The sudden force causes the paper to curl, allowing Harry to inspect the handwriting once again. The way the letters were shaped, it seems so familiar...
"Not only was she cursed by that bloody trinket, she was Imperio too," Ron shudders.
"An oddly astute observation, Weasley..." Snape's eyes narrow, but he swears he saw a glint of impressment.
"Where was Draco?" Harry blurts.
The atmosphere in the room becomes tense as all eyes turn towards him. Hermione and Ron are most likely baffled as to why Harry addressed Draco by name. However, Professor McGonagall and Professors Snape exchange a knowing glance.
"Potter," Professor McGonagall calls with a stern voice. "Your question implicates a grave allegation."
"Indeed," Professor Snape glares, "Have you any evidence for such an outlandish accusation?"
"I..."
Harry had no words. Although, there's no definitive proof, a gnawing sensation of uneasiness sits at the pit of his stomach. His body was comatose for two weeks, but his mind remembers 1942 vividly. For him everything in the present seems sudden, but in combination with a certain person's behavior and the alleged allegiance. His instinct told him...
Draco is involved.
Notes:
Sorry for the longish chapter, didn't want to split it up the intensity or the fluff.
Next chapter:
The end of 1996 year. Along with Tom and Harry's first Christmas together and Slughorn's Christmas party from Draco's point of view
Chapter 20: Seeds of Snow
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Following Katie's curse, she remains in an unconscious state. With his finger, Harry follows Draco's name on Marauder's Map, but a blink later he vanished. As days progressed monitoring Draco is the least of his worries as more obstacles arose. It began when Ron started dating Lavender Brown. Their relationship caused a rift in his and Hermione's friendship, while Harry found himself best friends of two people who seemed like they would never speak to each other ever again; next, Ginny occasionally ambushed him with charms and counter curses until Harry began avoiding her altogether; and to top it all off, Professor Snape was as pleasant as ever while giving him several more detentions.
Although, the past months weren't entirely terrible, thanks to a certain Gryffindor... "Thomas MarGaunt" was different from the 1942 "Tom Riddle". Of course, he's still utterly brilliant and incredibly handsome, but he no longer resorted to his pristine perfect persona. Tom became more genuine; albeit, a bit more blunt, rude, dismissive, manipulative at times, but getting sorted into Gryffindor couldn't erase all of his Slytherin tendencies. He quickly became tied for the top student, earning a reputation as the Boy Who Lived's brilliant beau. All the while keeping a distance from Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall.
Honestly, Tom's presence, his companionship, his everything... Thank Merlin he's here to ease Harry's stresses. In fact, Tom eased his stresses countless times in the Gryffindor Common room, the baths, after Quidditch practices, late past curfew, that one time underneath the Cloak of Invisibility in the stairwell... Ah, Tom made Harry's dreadful responsibilities manageable, so within the madness hopefully they can spend more mundane moments together.
"Not coming to the Burrow?!?!" Ron's voice echoes throughout the library.
Several heads glare their way and shush him, but Ron's rage doesn't settle and he inhales to yell again. A stray book darts at them missing Ron by a hair, but smacking Harry straight in the face.
Ron scoffs, "Serves you right." He finally sits down, "Can't believe you're staying."
Harry readjusts his glasses, rubbing his forehead. "You can't expect me to leave him alone, especially on Christmas. Look, I'll owl during the break, but going to the Burrow is out of the question. Ginny really doesn't like him."
"Oh yeah..." Ron shakes his head, "But! That doesn't mean you can't come! Come on mate, you're not even taking him to Slughorn's Christmas party!"
"He doesn't enjoy crowds," Harry says smoothly, continuing to rub his forehead. Odd, the book didn't hit too hard, but the pain was still tingling.
"Right, that snobby git doesn't bask in glory," Ron rolls his eyes. "What? You bloody blokes gonna snog all break long?"
Harry scoffs, "Oh, I plan to."
"Really, now?"
Harry freezes.
That tingling sensation...
Harry lightly touches his scar and turns to see Tom directly behind him with an extremely pleased expression.
"Well, now... I can hardly restrain myself," Tom hones in on where the book hit him, Tom lifts up Harry's bangs and kisses his forehead. A swift jolt travels through Harry, the pains turn into certain other urges.
Hermione whacks both of them with a rolled up parchment. "Save it for the holiday," she scowls, awkwardly meeting Ron's gaze.
They stare for a moment until Ron gathers his belongings. "Uh, I promised to meet Lavender. See ya, mate." He scurries out of the library.
"Git," Hermione mumbles taking the seat where Ron was. "Going to meet Lavender? Please. That daft bimbo seems to regard any moment not snogging him as a moment wasted."
"I may concur with her sentiment," Tom slurs, slipping into the other seat beside Harry.
"Shut up," Hermione dryly responds, muttering about 'stupid bloody couples'.
Harry couldn't help, but to chuckle. Over the past few months, Tom entered into their somewhat strained friend group, but seemed to enjoy Fred's and George's company the most. Tom's calculating mind plus the twin's pranks ended up with a recipe for disaster.
Hermione lays out her parchment scrolls along with Tom's books. "These are all we found pertaining to Hogwarts' artifacts. Why did you want this?" She asks.
"The Founders' items are important to him..." Harry mumbles, reading the text.
Hogwarts's Founders, the most brilliant witches and wizards of all time. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin. The sword, the cup, the diadem, and the locket, all passed down from generation to generation. As of now only the Sword of Gryffindor is known, but the rest have to be somewhere, Voldemort's potential Horcruxes...
"...understand?" Hermione's tone raises, causing Harry to perk up. She glares realizing he hasn't been listening at all. "I said. Be careful in accepting any gifts, understand?"
"Embracing the 'holiday spirit', I find Harry deserving of a present or two," Tom replies before Harry could.
"I'm saying be careful because rumor has it Romilda Vane and a couple other girls are conspiring to slip 'The Chosen One' a love potion. Honestly, this could all be avoided if you simply bring MarGaunt as your date."
"Funny, you and Ron said the same thing," He chuckles to himself, quickly shutting up against Hermione's icy glare. "Erm... But I don't want to force him to go if he doesn't want to."
Tom's aura darkens, "I do not derive pleasure from the company of others." He laces his fingers with Harry's. "However, if those wretched witches continue with their unspeakable actions, an unforgivable future will be upon them..." Harry reassuringly rubs Tom's cheek, but he simply glares at Hermione. "Granger, you accompany Harry to Slughorn's Supper."
Harry turns to Hermione, "That's brilliant! Well, what do you say? We go as friends?"
"Why didn't I think of that?" She mutters.
"What?" Harry squints, "Exactly, who are you taking?"
"Um..." Hermione twirls her curls around her finger and creases the corner of the pages. "It's a surprise," she glances at the evening light from the window and hastily stands. "Pardon me, I have to... To prepare for the Dinner party." She scurries out of the library in the exact same way Ron did.
"That was strange..." Harry eyes his friend in suspicion.
Tom's hands encircle his waist, pulling him snugly against his chest. Harry squirms, but Tom simply nestles into the crook of his neck. "Your thoughts shall not be hexed by love potions," he grunt softly into his ear, causing Harry to stop resisting. "Perhaps, I shall be your date. The twins ought to have Polyjuice Potion about."
To be born by the effects of a potion, to be controlled by mind and body, to be forced to love someone else. If Harry fell under the same fate, no doubt Tom would wreck havoc.
"Tom," Harry whispers, embracing into his warmth. "You don't have to worry, because I belo..." The breath meets together.
A voice squeaks and the others hush them. In that instant, Harry becomes hyper aware of their public display in the library, and everyone practically gawks at them. He shoves Tom back, fixing his collar. "Uh, yes. You don't need to worry, because I'll just have to bring someone else I like. Someone cool."
The sun falls bringing about nighttime, the darkness slowly engulfs the warm hues. Deep inside the caverns of magic a trail of steam boils from the iron cauldron. The liquid contents change color as it swirls counterclockwise. From the sky blue to deep purple and crimson to jet black. Bubbles pop, and spatter onto the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco groans wiping the stupid spillage with his robes.
Stupid.
Bloody stupid.
His eyes weighed heavily because every time he attempted to sleep a dire punishment awaited his dreams. When was the last time he had a good night's rest? Dark shadows stain under his eyes and a new distinctly grayish hue cling to his skin. This particular poison was extremely potent, a single drop could easily cause its victim to compulse and die. A worthy way for Dumbledore to meet his end.
Draco's eyes drift from the cauldron to the Vanishing Cabinet. The Echo's Bell remains where he placed it months ago. Once the Cabinet is repaired overthrowing Hogwarts would be simple, and his poison potion is...
Is...
Isn't perfect.
In fact, it's far from perfect. How dare he call himself a Malfoy if he failed to produce a less than ideal poison? No, no to perfect such a potion requires several more full moons to cure, perhaps even to next year. Furthermore, he'd be a fool to dismiss the means of consuming his concoction. Yes, of course he would have to order the finest mead, one suitable as a gift for a Headmaster of Hogwarts. As well as something to cover the potion's scent. Professor Slughorn most obviously has such an ingredient he requires. Draco mutters a spell to keep the flames low, he stretches his neck and leaves the Room of Requirement.
Each corner and corridor Draco slides through like a slithering snake until he arrives at Slughorn's door. Music and chatter fill the air, as Slughorn's Christmas party continues with full vitality. Draco isn't an idiot, he didn't forget about the party. However, the ingredient he requires is utterly essential that he must acquire it now. So... No matter the consequences.
Draco clutches the doorknob tightly, his eyes flicker at his surroundings. He remains still, until the sound of footsteps approaches from down the corridor. His movements delay ever so slightly causing a dreadful pull gripping at his ear.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in." The bloody hand belonged to none other than the wretched Squib, Filch.
"Release me, filthy Squib! I-I have an invitation!" Draco hisses as he tightens his hold.
"We'll see about that, now won't we?" Filch drags Draco through the doors. A crowd of Slughorn's pathetic quests stare at him until he is brought to the host himself.
"Professor Slughorn, sir," wheezes Filch with an unbridled vicious tone. "I'd just discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited."
Draco pulls himself from Filch's grip, his ear aching madly. "Alright, I wasn't invited!" he growls. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"
"I'm not!" Filch says with pure glee. "Night-time prowling without permission, eh? You're in trouble, you are!"
Of course he is. Even with his Prefect status, he wouldn't be without consequences. Draco might find himself with detention, for the rest of the year, even into next! Then he will have to take more time to--
"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," Slughorn waves his hand. "It's not a crime to want to come to a Christmas party. Especially one as fine as one of mine. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment. Stay and enjoy Draco," Slughorn smiles.
Of course, Filch's expression fills outraged disappointment, but Draco finds himself unable to hide his expression as well. He clicks his tongue only to find pitiful emerald green eyes observing him.
Potter.
Potter is wearing a rather lavish piece which hugs his figure well. It almost made him look dashing. Almost. Beside him is that Looney Ravenclaw in the utmost ridiculous of outfits. Riddle absolutely nowhere in sight, but it would cause difficulties had Slughorn seen Tom Riddle.
Potter gazes at him with such a complex expression and steps forward, "Draco, you--"
"A word, Draco," Snape suddenly appears before him.
"Now, now, Severus," Slughorn hiccups, "Where's your holiday spirit? It's Christmas, don't be too hard--"
"As the Head of Sylthern, I'll do what I see fit," Snape replies curtly. "Come, Draco."
"Certainly..." Rotten Snape, always trying to corner him. Draco glances back at Harry. Although, in this particular case Snape offered him an outing. "Professor," Draco spits as he follows him out the door down the corridor.
Snape quickly removed him from Slughorn's premises. They continued up and down the stairwell in complete silence. Then in a dark secluded nook, at the end of the corridor, a small window acts as the only source of light. It illuminates the surroundings well enough for Draco to see Snape crossing his arms glaring disapprovingly.
"You are incautious. Ignoring curfews, wandering about a populated corridor, getting caught... You cannot afford such errors. Not after Miss Bell's incident."
Draco clenches his fist, "What's it to you?"
"Because such an insolent stunt was both clumsy and foolish. Arising suspicion towards yourself--"
"Who suspects me?" Draco snaps back angrily. That's right Riddle isn't to be trusted he no doubt went back from his words and told Potter. Logically resulting in Granger and Weasley knowing as well. Draco bites his bottom lip drawing the taste of iron. "Maybe I had something to do with it. Maybe I didn't. You can't just--"
Snape's eyes pierces into Draco's soul, no, a sharp pain shoots inside causing a swarm of magic to follow suit. Those stings try to peel back the layers of his mind. Draco hisses in pain, "Don't take me for a fool! I know what you are trying to do, but it won't work!"
Snape clicks his tongue, harshly scowling his next words, "Occlumency... Just what do you insist on concealing?"
"Concealing? You, no, I reckon Rid- MarGaunt said it best," Draco huffs, gaining back his energy, "Keep your obscenely large nose out of my business!"
A defeat sigh escapes from Snape's lips, and his time he stares at Draco with... Genuine concern in his eyes? "Listen," his voice is so low, "I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow to--"
"Then break it! I don't need your protection!" It's his mother and father that do. All Draco needs is to kill Albus Dumble--
"Stalling in an attempt to cover your obvious fear... Let me assist--"
"No!" Draco shouts, not caring about his volume, "This is what I was chosen for! Out of all the others, he chose me! My plan is in the works, longer than I expected, but I won't fail him! And the likes of you won't steal away my glory!"
A pause causes Snape's demeanor to change coldly, "Choosing to speak like an impudent child will do nothing. Indeed, your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"
Draco walks away, he doesn't need to listen to his bullshit.
"An Unbreakable Vow? Are you certain?"
"That's what he said," Harry answers, walking to the cracking fireplace. He sits next to Tom handing a mug of steamy peppermint tea. Tom extends the blanket and wraps it over both their shoulders. Harry sips from his cup, and watches as the mini marshmallows float to the chocolate's surface.
"An Unbreakable Vow... What is it exactly?"
Tom wipes the chocolate residue from Harry's lips with his thumb. "An Unbreakable Vow is a spell where a witch or wizard makes an oath to another. They must dutifully fulfill the terms of the spoken agreement."
"What if," Harry swirls his mug, "What if the terms are broken?"
Tom sets his tea down and sighs. "The one who fractures the agreement will die."
Harry nearly spills his hot chocolate. "Die? Is he truly willing to die for him, or is this all part of Voldemort's plan?"
"I suppose Death Eaters manage like any other organization. A hierarchy containing various tiers. For Draco to be towards the top is baffling to say the least, so his efforts shouldn't impact as much. As for Snape, such a vow would require certain relations," Tom explains, pulling the blanket together creates a cocoon of warmth.
"Snape is unbearable! Why Professor Dumbledore trusts him is beyond me. But as for Draco..." Harry snuggles into Tom's shoulder, "What his up to? And..."
A small entrance opens allowing a slight influx of freezing air into the room. Almost instantaneously it shuts, and familiar snow-white feathers descend from Gryffindor's Common Room ceiling. A package with a stack of letters on top drop in front of their feet, then Hedwig rushes towards Harry affectionately nuzzling his cheeks. He flaps her wings open furthering an owl-size wedge between himself and Tom.
"Hello Hedwig," Harry smiles brightly, feeding her one of the ginger snaps. "Thanks for the delivery." He pets her lovingly resulting in Tom audibly huffing. Harry chuckles lightly, taking the large package onto his lap. A smaller package drops, but Harry quickly slips the smaller one behind his back before reaching for the letters.
Harry opens the first one and reads out loud, "'Harry, we have a special surprise for you. Hope you use it well.' Signed Fred and George." He glances towards Tom who returns a callous shrug. The other letter expresses holiday greetings and missing Harry's presence. He notices the lack of a letter from Ginny, but doesn't press too much thought into it. The final letter is from Mr. Weasley.
"'Harry, I hope you are indeed having a Merry Christmas, we appreciate your best wishes. Such a shame of your absence, perhaps next year you and your beau will join us.'" Tom smirks, Harry shakes his head counting to read, "'Pertaining your previous inquiries, it seems as though nothing in Borgin and Burkes was taken. However, the sightings show he was particularly interested in the Vanishing Cabinet...'" Harry trails off.
The Vanishing Cabinet? Why did Draco care about that? What does he need protection from? As a Death Eater...
Tom scoffs, shoves Hedwig aside, she squawks menacingly, but he ignores her, cupping Harry's cheeks. "Harry, do you intend on mulling over Draco the entire holiday? I was under the impression we were to...
Snog.
All.
Break.
Long."
The way he emphasizes each word makes Harry weak. He couldn't peel his eyes away from Tom's lips, and he subconsciously licks his own.
"I..."
"Yes?" Tom hisses, settling Harry onto his lap. His legs straddle Tom as the aroma of peppermint lingers from his breath.
Tom had a certain way of pushing his buttons. Endlessly nudging him towards a specific reaction like he was putty in his hands. No doubt the smug git wanted a challenge, a game he would play from time to time to see how long Harry could last. Harry's finger traces over Tom's lips, his body presses closer. Tom smirks, slipping his hands around his waist.
There.
That expression.
Tom's glint of arousal, anticipation, possessiveness.
How it's...
"I..." Harry grinds against Tom making him exhale sharply. "I think you can wait," he boops Tom's nose.
Tom's eyes twitch, utterly baffled by Harry's abrupt actions. Honestly, he couldn't contain his laughter. Tom's stunned expression is just too much. How it's amusing to tease out all of Tom's different reactions. See, two can play at his little game, and it looks like Harry won this round.
Before Tom takes his ravenous revenge, Harry pecks him on the cheek. "Calm yourself darling," he slurs, pressing this palm on Tom's chest, "Or you won't get your gift."
Tom raises his eyebrow, refusing to let Harry escape from their position. The flames from the fireplace illuminate his features unfairly dashing.
"Naughty boy," he whispers.
...
"It's not Christmas yet," Tom continues, his stupid smug smirk returning.
"W-well," Harry stutters, red cheeks rising, "Close enough!"
He gestures for Hedwig to get the large package. Tom readjusts their position, leaving Harry's back pressed against his broad chest. Tom lazily leans on Harry's shoulder opening the package on his lap. He tears the parchment wrapping to reveal a dark green scarf, with a slight shiny checkered pattern reminiscent of scales.
"Nagini was always on your neck so..." Harry bites his lip, "I can't imagine what you are going through. If something happens to Hedwig I don't know what I do. So... I hope it..."
Tom embraces him from behind, holding him firmly. "It's a marvelous gift. Thank you."
As Tom envelops him in his warmth, Harry instinctively hugs his arms. He closes his eyes allowing his other senses to feel. The heat radiating from Tom, the crackles from the fireplace, and a subtle blend of peppermint and chocolate in the air, overshadowed by Tom's intoxicating scent. Harry realizes he has never experienced a Christmas quite as magical as this one.
Harry opens his eyes to see Tom wearing his new scarf, holding the ends tassels to Harry's cheek. He tickles him lightly.
"As wonderful as you are, I'm intrigued about the item you insist on concealing."
Harry clicks his tongue, "How observant of you."
He tilts his chin upwards to gaze into his eyes, "Darling, I know every bruise, blemish, mark, scar on your body. Nothing of you escapes me."
"Charming," Harry rolls his eyes and reveals the smaller package. "This isn't for you until next week."
"Next week?"
Harry sighs playing with the scarf's tassels, "The thirty-first, your birthday."
Tom swiftly snatches the gift and tears it open.
"Hey!"
"Oh my," Tom feigns destress, "It appears to be opened, therefore this gift is voided. Not to worry, I'm sure you will find other sorts I shall thoroughly enjoy unwrapping on my birthday."
He flushes as Tom undresses him with his eyes. He knows what they'll be doing to celebrate.
Tom gazes at the gift and squints in confusion, "What is this?"
A chuckle slips through, it's nice when Tom isn't being, as Ron says, 'a know-it-all'.
"Well, you insisted on buying cheap feathers, I decided to get you something better. It's a Muggle invention, a fountain pen," Harry grabs the engraved pen and unscrews the cap, "See? You can refill the ink. It was hard to get, but Hermione honestly pulled through. Do you like it?"
"Hmm, you are two for two..." Tom scowls gently nudges Harry off. He pulls out his wand and Accios something into his hand, he then extends his other one. "Harry James Potter, if you would be so kind?"
Harry blinks at Tom's actions, but shakes his head. He was curious enough. "Why of course Thomas MarGaunt," he says like a pompous Slytherin and takes Tom's hand.
"No, no. Such an utterly dreadful name is unsuitable," Tom kneels on one knee. "Perhaps you would share your name with me?"
Wait...
Wait, wait, wait, wait.
Harry becomes deeply red. "Tom, are you-- Is this--" he stammers.
Suddenly, tiny orbs shoot upwards. At that moment, the minute hand connects with the hour hand striking midnight. The chimes of the clock tower echo throughout the corridors of Hogwarts. With the sound of the bells the tiny orbs burst open, filling the ceiling with countless dangling mistletoes. The flame of the fireplace flickers low. Lights of an aurora envelop the room, dazzling everything in an array of colors.
It's breathtaking.
Tom places a uniquely wrapped three tier golden ring, with an oddly familiar black stone, onto Harry's left ring finger.
"Perhaps forthcoming, or better yet, a formality. Nonetheless, I will fulfill every vow which I have promised you. You belong to me, as I belong to you. Harry Potter, will you marry me?"
If someone were to tell him a year ago, Tom Riddle would be proposing to him... He would have called St. Mungo and claim insanity. Now, if someone were to tell him his heart would be beating out of his chest and he'll be beaming with happiness, he would have admitted himself. How much things have changed.
How much Tom has changed.
No, more like how much he himself has changed.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Thomas MarGaunt.
Tom Potter...
Without warning Harry leaps into Tom's arms, causing them both to topple on the ground. Harry lands on top, with Tom ensuring he isn't harmed. Just then peppermint mixes with chocolate, the tastes combine as one. Harry parts for air, gazing at Tom beneath him. His perfect hair is a mess, his eyes hungry for more. Harry leans his forehead onto Tom's, and their soul connection sings.
"I'd be honored."
Tom sighs in relief, almost as if he was actually worried. He kisses him again and smiles, "Merry Christmas, Harry."
"Merry Christmas, Tom."
Hedwig pulls at Harry's collar forcing him to sit upright. "Ah, Merry Christmas to you too Hedwig," he pats her gently.
Tom adjusts his position, as Harry settles onto his lap, his legs draping on either side of him. He glances up at the hundreds of mistletoe above them, perhaps this is Fred's and George's doing. Harry leans to Tom's ear, whispering in Parseltongue. "I suppose we ought to snog for the rest of the break."
"Tempting, but..." Tom abruptly raises, securing Harry in his arms.
Instinctively, Harry secures his legs around Tom's waist. "What--"
"After receiving such precious gifts, it's only appropriate I reciprocate," he hums nonchalantly. "You have desired this for some time, and I am prepared to provide such for you."
Harry rises his eyebrow. Just what is Tom planning?
Tom smirks, "Legilimens."
Here, the familiar hallways.
Here, the nostalgic walls.
About twenty-four hours left for Draco to enjoy the rest of his Christmas break. It's odd returning to the Malfoy Manor, however it allowed his nightmares to cease. Every morning Draco and his mother would have a cup of tea together. Not much was said, but it's nice within her companion, though an empty seat is in between them... Draco strides down the corridor, aware of all the former Malfoy's portraits eyes gazing at him. Only one day left. So he will fully embrace the most of today, to be in the comfort of his home.
A heavy wooden door leads him to the Malfoy's Drawing Room. He turns the bronze handle, and hears crackling from the roaring fire. Next light expels throughout the room causing the two grand crystal chandeliers to glisten brilliantly. On the far side, his mother sits at the pipe organ playing a somewhat sombre tune. Odd, his mother never plays the pipe organ. Then he realizes his Aunt Bellatrix is lounging on their expensive sofa speaking with Snape by his marble fireplace. What is he doing here? A low growl fills his throat, as Draco steps in, the door closes behind him. He captures everyone's eyes.
However, their attention shifts towards his father's armchair. In Draco's perspective, he could only see the rear of the chair, but it shifts. A figure moves in the seat.
No way...
Could it be?
No one would dare to sit in his father's rightful place.
Draco rushes over with his heart pulsing, "Father--"
A fleeting moment reminds him how fickle hope can be, as slit blood red eyes gaze at him. That waxy scaly flesh and bone-white cracked skin, occupying his father's seat.
His knees instantly fall to the ground, and his head stays low. "M-my Lord?"
"Ahh, Draco," Lord Voldemort hisses with amusement. His voice sends chills down Draco's spine. "Come, join us."
An invitation?
Draco bows once more forcing his nerves to obey his will. The green cushion sinks as he sits next to Aunt Bellatrix. From behind his mother waves her wand, the kettle releases white steam from the spout and a ceramic cup and saucer hovers into his palm. The teapot tilts pouring piping hot Earl Grey tea into the teacup.
The tea's ripples in various directions as Draco tries to casually bring it to lips. A sip and he burns his tongue. "Ah," Draco pulls the cup away, only to meet the Dark Lord's gaze. He drops the cup causing tea to soak into the rug, staining its pattern to dark amber.
No, no, no, no.
Not now.
He can't know about 1942. He can't know about Tom Riddle walking amongst them. He can't know about what Potter did, or what he didn't do. He can't know about how he was involved with it all. Potter. Riddle. Dumbledore. Grindelwald. Judy...
He can't know.
No, he won't.
His mind pounds and aches with every onslaught of power slicing into his innermost memories. With every attack, Draco defeats himself viscously. Until the pain stops.
Draco grasps at the end table gasping for air.
"Very impressive," Lord Voldemort nods with pride. "Albus could never breach such a display of a brillant Occlumency. I expect nothing less from a true Malfoy."
A true Malfoy?
"Well done, Bellatrix."
Aunt Bellatrix swoons with pure glee. "Of course, my Lord," she says matching Lestrange's back during Riddle's Knights of Walpurgis meeting.
Draco regains his composure and sluggishly returns to his seat. He notices Snape's gaze shift towards his mother. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one.
Lord Voldemort hisses, "Narcissa."
Off tune sound echoes, she might have hit the organ's keys. "Y-yes, my Lord?"
"I applaud such generosity allowing the Malfoy Manor as the Death Eaters new residency."
"What?" Draco accidentally says out loud.
"W-we are honored by your presence, my Lord," his mother quickly chimes in.
Those red slit eyes observe as he squirms. "Any grievances?"
"Of course not. I too am honored, but--"
Snape cuts through, "Though a mundane, it's inherent he focuses on his classes the upcoming semester."
The Dark Lord doesn't respond. Instead he fiddles with his wand. "I wouldn't want to rob you of your education, Draco. Such high importance of one of my most trusted followers."
Most trusted?
"However," Snape continues, "An intriguing development should be brought to your attention, my Lord."
"Oh?"
"It seems Potter found himself a beau."
"A beau?!" Aunt Bellatrix cackles madly like a hyena, flailing on the couch. "Oh, how rich! Who would have thought 'the Chosen One' is a bloody poof! Tell me, is it that red haired Blood Traitor's offspring?"
"No," Snape says bluntly irritated. "It's a no-name, insolent, Halfblood, Gryffindor, by the name of Thomas MarGaunt."
"MarGaunt..." The Dark Lord says lowly, almost pronouncing each syllable. After a moment he scoffs with pride and arrogance, deeming his previous thoughts as ludicrous. "Severus, survey Harry Potter's precious beau closely, for he shall be exploited as Harry Potter's vulnerability."
Snape bows to his knees, "Yes, my Lord."
Lord Voldemort is planning to use Riddle? Draco could only shiver thinking of the consequences.
"And Draco?" Draco's eyes snap back towards his Dark Lord.
"Go and ki... Ah, you are well aware of the rest."
The atmosphere charges with a heavy aura of power and magic. Imposing a deadly threat onto Draco to fulfill his task. Lord Voldemort rises from his father's armchair with a sinister smile spreading across his face as he gazes at everyone present. He Disapparates flinging his father's chair to the back wall, smashing it into pieces.
The Dark Lord thinks of him as a true Malfoy. As his most trusted follower. Not Snape, but him. Has Draco lost his home? But if he fails...
He'll lose much more.
Notes:
Spilt the chapter, so some out-of-season Christmas fluff. Also Tom's gifts are teaching Harry Legilimency and Occlumency.
Next chapter:
The remaining moments of their Sixth Year leads to secrets being revealed as Tom makes a rash decision, and Draco descends into turmoil.
Chapter 21: While It Is
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry.
His beloved Harry.
His fiancé.
This December 31st marks Tom's most exquisite birthday to date. Embracing with Harry's beautiful skin while he erotically moans his name with every thrust. As the clock strikes midnight and Harry screams. His velvet inside clenches down, staining his precious hole with Tom's semen. What an absolutely splendid way to conclude the year.
At the start of the new term, it's fortunate his beloved chose to remain by his side during the Christmas break. If he chose the Burrow, he would be amidst the attacks of the Death Eaters. It seems his future self was as ruthless as he was foolish. Now if it were the sole incedent.
A particularly insolent, greasy, obscenely large nose professor intently observed him. Such feeble attempts of Legilimency to peer into his inner thoughts. Unlike the pathetic Snape, his and Harry's discreet Legilimency and Occlumency lessons were improving.
Nonetheless, Harry navigates his estranged friendship, academic commitments, Quidditch, Slughorn's memories, as well as the Horcuxes with due diligence. However, a troubling offence was Harry's hyper-fixation on Draco Malfoy. Tom isn't at the forefront of Harry's thoughts...
In present times, the night casts its shadow, marking the conclusion of the first day of the third month. Tom crosses his arms once again inside of Dumbledore's whimsical, disorganized office.
"Lemon sherbet?"
Tom scoffs at the lemon flavor hard candy. "Has anyone ever accepted such an offer?"
The coot simply shrugs devouring his Muggle sugary substance. He clears his throat, and Accios a new parchment. "Now, Thomas R. MarGaunt, are you--"
Tom rolls his eyes in annoyance, "Hurry this along, I have other commitments to engage with this evening."
Ah, engage...
The great pleasure of seeing his reconstructed Gaunt's Ring wrapped around Harry's ring finger. Shame his adorable fiancé was bashful, opting to change to his left index finger instead. Nonetheless, Tom is fully aware of its rightful place.
Dumbledore gently strokes his silver beard, completely unperturbed by Tom's actions. "Presumingly with Harry?"
Tom doesn't respond.
"Very well. Your professor's evaluation presents 'Outstanding' in every one of your subjects. Even your new Apparition lessons."
"Elementary," he says dismissively. Although, Tom rather enjoyed Apparition. It was a skill he intended to master far before entering into the 1990s.
"Now..." Dumbledore signs his signature at the bottom of the document, and raises his wand. The parchment floats into the air and neatly folds it into thirds. From across the room, an envelope appears to him. The envelope engulfs the letter entirely, similar to what Harry has done for him several times before.
"Quite impressive-"
Tom's eyes dart to Dumbledore. There has been no indication of Legilimency anywhere. How dare this intrusive--
"-records you have. Such a bright future is upon you. Perhaps all his Pensieve experiences were fruitful for such self evaluations."
Ah.
Tom inwardly coughs, "Examining the psyche of a psychotic narcissist whose past overlaps with that of my own and exploiting his weaknesses assists Harry. Once that vermin is annihilated, our legacy may bloom into fruition."
"Quite so," Dumbledore dismisses. Then proceeds to rise from his seat with excruciating slowness. After an eternity, he makes his way towards the front of the office, insisting on personally holding the door open him to walk through. "I trust you won't keep Harry too long."
Bloody irritating ancient coot. Tom steps out, but before he could curse back a response, a figure rushes past him knocking his balance.
"Pardon me!" A familiar voice exclaims, momentarily locking eyes with him.
It's...
Slughorn.
Slughorn's gaze narrows slightly, as if recalling the familiarity of Tom's features. A sickly ill red haired student, a Weasley, shuffles in his arms.
"You--"
Dumbledore diligently maneuvers between them. "Horace, what seems to be the problem--"
"Sir, quickly!" Harry exclaims with clear distress. "Ron will--"
Slughorn shakes his head, "O-of course!" The Potion's Professor rushing down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing.
Realizing Tom's presence, Harry seizes his hand and pulls him to pursue Slughorn together. However, old wrinkled hands restrain Harry.
"That's... What happened?"
"Sir, it's- I couldn't- Ron--"
The ancient old coot grasps Harry's shoulders as he disgustingly tries to comfort his fiancé, "Calmly, explain what occurred."
Frustrated, Harry squeezes Tom's hand. "Romilda Vane sent me a laced box of love potioned Chocolate Cauldrons and Ron accidentally ate them. I brought him to Professor Slughorn for an antidote, and he treated him. But when he gave him a cup of mead to restore his energy, Ron started to choke, convulse, turn blue, and stop breathing! I don't know what to do, so I shoved Bezoar down his throat! Now, he's breathing, but he still would be in danger! We have to go!"
"Harry," Dumbledore interjects, shaking his head. "Might I remind you of Horace's presence."
"Ah," Harry says deflated. Tom could sense Harry's heart rate through his hand. His emerald green eyes are full of anxiety. Harry desperately wishes for his presence, however he hesitantly releases his hand. Harry's warmth barely lingers.
Tom caresses Harry's cheek, "Not to worry, darling. Weasley will recover."
"Right..." Harry mumbles, then shakes his head. "Right." He speaks more surely.
"Harry," Dumbledore ushers. Harry nods, proceeding with Dumbledore down the corridor.
A love potion...
Granger sighs, "I said. Be careful in accepting any gifts, understand?"
"Embracing the 'holiday spirit', I find Harry deserving of a present or two," Tom replies
"I'm saying be careful because rumor has it Romilda Vane and a couple other girls are conspiring to slip 'The Chosen One' a love potion..."
Revolting.
The sky darkens and the Hospital Wing is quiet. Only one bed is occupied, and both, Harry and Hermione, are sitting around an unconscious Ron. Moments before, it was so loud filled with ruckus as Professor McGonagall, Slughorn, Snape, and Dumbledore trying to make sense of the poisoned mead. The mead meant for Professor Dumbledore...
Madam Pomfrey allows Hermione and himself to stay, after Lavender comes barging in and Ron mumbles Hermione's name instead. Fred and George visited too but left to dismantle, well, reconstruct Ron's surprise party when he wakes. As for Ginny, she had yet to show.
Hermione's soft sniffs fill the room, but it's still too quiet. The silence filled Harry with a specific memory.
"This could be a problem I should tell her the truth, Hermione and Ron as well," he says.
Professor Dumbledore pauses and slowly turns to him, shaking his head.
"But why, sir? They can help us, and--"
"Harry, don't you trust me?"
"What? Of course... Of course, I trust you."
"Then let it be. Given the high tensions, to reveal Thomas MarGaunt as Lord Voldemort will result in... unfavorable outcomes. No, it's not time yet. To do so will be unwise."
It's not time yet?
Time has been nothing but fleeting.
Ron could have died then and there. And Harry... Harry would be keeping secrets from them. Well, not anymore. If it's unwise, then let it be, because once Ron wakes up he is telling them everything--
"Ugh..."
"Ron?!" Harry shouts only for Hermione to slap him upside the head.
She glares at him and then gently strokes Ron's hand, "Thank Merlin."
Ron chuckles in a daze, "What? H-Hermione? I thought we weren't talking?"
"Shut up, you git, and don't ever do this again. Do you hear me?" Hermione whimpers and she gives him a hug.
"Geez..."
"Ron... I'm so glad you're alright," Harry's voice cracks as he joins in the warm embrace. Madam Pomfrey steps out to give the Golden Trio much needed privacy.
He almost lost his best friend. And if they didn't know they can be in so much more danger. Ron might not be completely lucid, but that won't stop Harry from telling them. He'll do it again and again if he has too.
"Listen..." Harry pulls away, but decides to hold both their hands, "There's something I need to tell you both."
Hermione raises her eyebrow in confusion as Ron dazedly blinks several times, probably not fully comprehending the situation. He smiles, "What's up, mate?"
Tom interlocks his hand with Harry's. He whispers into his ear, "Harry, I am quite comfortable with disclosing my past whenever you deem it appropriate."
"Well... Draco and I traveled back to 1942 and returned with... Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Harry tells how he was originally sent by Professor Dumbledore to stop Tom, but was trapped with Draco instead. How Draco acted and changed, while his thoughts on Tom shifted as well. How his suspicion led to understanding and eventually affection. Then breaks down Professor Slughorn's memories, the Horcruxes, that conversation between Draco and Professor Snape, him meeting the Mistress of Time herself. Harry tells them everything, anything, until he is out of breath.
When he finishes, Hermione stares at him in disbelief while Ron furrows his brow, clearly confused. Seems like Harry will need to explain again once Ron is more alert.
"You and Malfoy? 1942?" Hermione shoots him a fierce glare and snaps her hand away, "Why didn't you tell us this earlier?!" She huffs in frustration, while still being gentle to Ron. "He's here. He had been walking among us all along. Harry, how could you let You-Know-Wh--"
"He's not him, alright?!" Harry snaps. He hands down his hand and tries to regulate his outburst. He takes a deep breath and exhales. "Tom isn't Voldemort."
Hermione shakes her head, "Harry, think. You-Know-Who is sadistic, manipulative, heartless. He'll do anything to destroy, to kill you. Despite what he does, how he makes you feel, there's no truth behind--"
"Look at me," Harry stands and pats his body up and down. "He has been here long enough. Have I acted differently? Has he tried anything?"
"Well, no..." Hermione bites the tip of the thumb and shakes her head, "But this could be all an act. And act to further his plans. Please Harry, I don't want you to get hurt..."
Fear and concern glisten in the reflection of her eyes. After Ron's life threatening ordeal, she couldn't beat the thought of losing another friend. Harry's gazes soften looking at them both. To have someone he cares so much about, there's no way he can't share her feelings. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to them either.
"I know," he says, twirling his engagement ring for reassurance, "But about Tom, I... I love him. So please, don't talk about him that way, not while his is battling against what he could have become. He still decides his own future."
"Harry..." Hermione sighs, "I’ve never seen you so happy until you were with him. There's a connection between you two, and it's truly special. He's been so diligent, so attentive, so loving... All I can hope is it's genuine."
"It is," Harry slips the engagement ring to its rightful place on his ring finger.
Hermione slightly gasps, but her brow furrow as when she is taking an exam. "I suppose I understand why you didn't reveal anything... But why didn't Malfoy?"
That's... True.
Draco knows Tom's true identity. It's been months, so why hasn't he--
"Harry," Ron slumps upward in his pillow. Hermione and Harry both rush towards the bedside and stabilize him. Ron shakes his head and stares intensely at Harry. "How do we know for sure we can trust him?"
"I..." Harry bites his lips. He closes his eyes and inhales. When his eyes open once more he sees his best friends in the entire world. "You won't."
"So just trust me."
Romilda Vane.
Tom growls as the thought of her wretched name. Retrieving his wand, he quietly utters a peculiar incantation towards the Gryffindor girl's dormitory. He patiently obverses the door.
Now.
At that moment, a girl with raven hair, dressed in horribly unflattering pajamas, steps out of the Common Room. Her fingers run through her locks snagging together.
"Miss Vane?" Tom asks unsuspiciously.
"Eh?! MarGaunt?!" The foul girl shrieks, forcing her hair down. However, the knots will tighten instead.
Tom leisurely approaches her making his aura irresistible. Flattery, intrigue, and suspense, such tactics provided him with various advantages back in 1942, although resulting in unfavorable byproducts such as Lestrange. Oh, how unlike the masses, Harry averted his manipulations to unveil his true nature. His beloved fiancé was endearingly abrasive and a gem hidden in plain sight. Tom recalls the first time they touched how, ah... Now, this isn't the time reminiscence.
Tom raises his hand to smooth down her coarse, split-end hair. "Awfully disheveled, isn't it?"
"It's not normally like this! It suddenly became so humid," she revoltingly blushes and pathetically laughs.
"I noticed, your locks before were certainly..." Vane freezes as he barely grazes her oily skin. Tom inhales resisting the urge to hex her where she stands. "Quite a night for a stroll, would you care to accompany me?"
As anticipated, she completely swoons at his attention. She bats her eyes in a futile effort to appear modest and submissive. "But, isn't it after curfew?"
"Then it shall be our little secret," Tom whispers.
"Well, if you insist," she responds with delight.
Bloody daft bimbo.
Tom inwardly rolls his eyes, guiding her down to a particularly secluded area of Hogwarts. She gawks at his features, his figure, while feigning a demure aesthetic. Her act is evident, but she can no longer tolerate the silence.
"I am so sorry MarGaunt," her slurs sound like a squawk, "About you and Harry. About how he didn’t take you to Slughorn’s Christmas party. Instead he took someone else, 'someone he liked, someone cool'. I think you're swell."
Tom twitches slightly, but maintains his composure. "Indeed unfortunate, as of now Harry and I outgrew our... previous title."
"Really?!" She exclaims with an excessive amount of enthusiasm. "So, that would mean you are single... I mean... You, Thomas MarGaunt, are one of the top in the class, and on the path to becoming a distinguished member of the Ministry of Magic." She emphasizes the last words.
"Much so. A challenging profession with... Rewarding outcomes."
Vane releases an airy moan, pressing her lopsided breasts against his arm. "Perhaps, you seek a feminine change?" She slurs, slipping her tattered shirt to expose her unappealing collarbone. "I'd make a fine companion."
Despite her boarish, provocative efforts, Tom forces his expression to remain neutral and pleasant. "Why, I was under the impression that you fancied Harry."
Vane recoils slightly, "You mean the chocolates? No, no, no, you are mistaken! It’s not that I fancy him. He's just the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, you know? He's fine, but he pales in comparison to your achievements and..." She bats her eyes, "Your appearance."
"Such compliments are remarkable coming from someone such as yourself," Tom moves closer cornering her against the wall.
"R-really?" She swoons, gazing into his eyes.
"Remarkably..." Tom is a breath away.
"Repulsive."
"W-what?"
Tom's well-crafted mask shatters, unveiling an intimidating aura. Dark magic encapsulates Vane's body forcing her into submission. Her airways constrict, causing her complexion to fade a bluish hue.
"Romilda Vane, you are nothing but a vile wretch. Your attempts of seduction were humorously dreadful. Is that why you foolishly decided to love potion Harry, my Harry?"
"B-but he isn't your boyfriend!" She gasps for air.
"Indeed he's not," Tom sinisterly grins, "He is my fiancé."
Vane's eyes widen as she pathetically attempts to crawl away.
"Ah, ah. None of that. You repugnant, foolish, revolting cretin. You are less than a mere speck beneath his feet." His wand dangles between her eyes. "Now let's observe how you fare when your will turns against you, shall we?"
"No, no, no, please! I'm sorry--" she ridiculously begs.
Her eyes dart madly as her consciousness still remains intact. However Vane trembles in terror as her own hand lifts upwards then grips the root of her hair.
She pulls.
She shrieks.
Tom grins as a tangled mass of hair accumulates at her feet. She screams out in pain begging for the torment to end. Her pathetic cries blend with cascading tears and dripping mucus. She frantically yanks handful after handful of hair reveal her barren red scalp.
It's cathartic.
Listening to her screams.
Cackling as she begs.
Torturing her is a proxy for Merope Gaunt, for his own mother. His mother who used his very existence only to ensnare his father. His father, a mere unsuspecting Muggle, became the infatuation of a lowly witch. She desperately yearned to obtain him, by any means necessary. However, her insolent spells were useless and her charm was just as absent. Resulting in Tom to suffer the aftermath of her idiotic decisions. A deep-seated loathing for love potions traverses through Tom's veins. If Harry were to abandon him because of... Such a fate engulfs him in rage.
But Harry.
His Harry...
"How unfortunate," he mumbles. If Vanes succeeded in her plan, his precious Harry would have followed that same fate. However, he was spared. "Rather how fortunate..." He raises his wand.
"Obliviate."
Vane gasps into a foreign daze until she drifts into unconsciousness. Tom mutters another spell removing any incriminating marks, but opts to keep her head bare. How fortunate Romilda Vane was. Narrowly spared from severe punishment because of Weasley's gluttony. Had Harry been hexed instead, there would be no doubt she would have suffered his full wrath. If anyone dares attempts to harm Harry's life, he would display no semblance of mercy.
Tom adjusts his soft green snake scaled scarf and straightens his Gryfinndor collar, dragging Vane. He'll return her back to her room. The sun will soon rise and she'll eventually discover her appearance. The student body and professors will believe it to be a hair style malfunction, or a prank gone wrong. Either way Romilda Vane will be completely humiliated.
A considerate compromise.
Tom departs down the hallways, however, unbeknownst to him, a figure lurks in the shadows. One who witnessed the entire scene unfold.
After several full moons, after it all.
The mead failed.
Weasley had managed to recover back from his poison so quickly. Was it not as well crafted as he hoped?
The Grand Hall's boisterous noise barely registers at all. His ears are muffled. Draco is numb. He hadn't rested since the Christmas break. Honestly, he doesn't even know how he's still upright, but none of that matters anymore... The clock is ticking, time is running out.
Draco jabs at his bread roll, not particularly hungry. He hadn't had an appetite in ages. Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini discuss something, but his eyes mindlessly wander towards the Gryffindor table. Romilda Vane is hiding a clear bald head, the Weasley twins are plotting something, and Weasley and Granger are with Riddle. Thank Merlin, Potter is nowhere in sight. Oddly enough, those two changed when interacting with him. Do they know?
With a groan, Draco pushes himself away from the Slytherin table, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini eye him. He'll give them a reasonable excuse and...
Draco's heart stops.
Time stands still.
In the middle of the Grand Hall he spots Katie Bell... Katie Bell talking with Potter. Almost as if he sensed his presence, Potter stares at him.
Their eyes lock.
Bloody hell.
Without a second thought, Draco dashes out of the Great Hall. He hurtles down the corridors bobbing and weaving in all sorts of directions. He needs that stubborn Gryffindor off his back! Draco sprints while the sweat from his forehead trickles down his face. He turns into a washroom and leaps inside.
It's empty.
It's quiet.
His feet turn to lead, each step more brutal than the last. Draco stumbles, bracing himself on the sink. No choice but to glaze at his reflection. Dark circles under his eyes, sweat clinging on his skin, a ghostly pale hue, and his hair in utter disarray. He is far from the polished image of a Malfoy. How did it all spiral so out of control?
His first Death Eater mission, he pushed aside to the very last minute, and now there's no time left. There's no...
"Stalling in an attempt to cover your obvious fear..." Snape knew.
"Draco, Draco, promise me. Swear to me! No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family!" His grandfather's words echo.
"Albus could never breach such a display of a brilliant Occlumency. I expect nothing less from a true Malfoy... Go and ki... Ah, you are well aware of the rest." The Dark Lord ordered.
And... Potter.
"Draco Malfoy. I want to say is... Thank you. Not sure what will happen next, but I hope it works out. And I'd be glad to call you a friend."
A great heavy shudder pulses through his blood and the pressure is too strong. Tears mix with his sweat dripping down his face. Is this his left now? His father locked away his mother at the mercy of the Dark Lord. Why does Voldemort hold all the power? Why can't he simply be himself and make his family proud?
Draco clenches at the side of the sink and cries his sobs mute at the sound of running water.
The washroom door creak open and closes.
Instantly his wand is in his hand, aiming at the intruder who dares to see him in such a wretched state.
"Confringo!"
It's Potter, who pathetically dodges his attack. Can't the bloody buffoon take a hint?!
"Expulso!"
Instead of retaliating, Potter opts for defense. He conjures up shields to get closer and closer. Draco yells out a barrage of spells, one right after the other. None of his attacks land, but the ground trembles as his power spirals outwards. One spell hits the mirror sending an array of glass shards into the air exploding like dazzling fireworks. The flames flare up and spread along the ceiling, causing scorch marks. His final blast hits the water line unleashing a burst of water, pooling at their feet. Draco pants madly, but he is determined to keep Potter at bay.
In an instant, Potter stands directly in front of him, they're mere hairs apart. The Boy Who Lived reaches for his wand, but before Draco could expel another curse, the sound of Potter's wand splashes on the ground.
He dropped it?
No, he tossed it aside. But why-- It's a distraction!
Draco prepares for a brutal Muggle attack, but Potter doesn't, instead he...
Hugs him.
Potter is hugging him. Just like when...
Draco grabs the Invisibility Cloak draping it above both of them. Then he did something he never thought he would do in a million years.
He hugs Potter.
Draco can't tell what Potter is thinking, but his expression is distressed, hurt, and confused. Perhaps, hugging his rival isn't the best idea, but right now, it's all Draco could do. After a quiet moment, Potter scoots closer.
Warm tears fall on Draco's chest.
Now... it's his tears falling on Potter's shoulder. Draco still doesn't hug back.
"Your mucky snot is all over my clothes," Potter muses, stroking circles onto Draco's back.
Potter, this bloody idiot...
"Draco..." He gently says, squeezing him tighter. "After everything, I wanted to go back to hating you. To despising every word coming out of your idiotic mouth and gagging every time I see your stupid arrogant face. A Death Eater..."
Draco's heart sinks.
Of course she suspected as such, but Potter truly knows. What is his plan now? To report and expose him? Then he'll--
"But..." Potter continues, "Even so, it doesn't change anything. Your expressions contradict what you said and did. Why did you do that to Katie? Why didn't you reveal Tom's true identity? Why are you crying? ...I refuse to believe, after everything we have been through, you didn't change as well." Potter pulls back so they can face eye to eye.
Emerald green to platinum silver.
"I don't know what's going on," Potter presses left hand on his right cheek, gazing at his exhaustion. "But this isn't right. You don't have to do this. Draco, no matter what he's making you do. I can stop him. I can help you."
What does he know? What can he do?
"Harry..."
Potter's eyes widen at the sound of his name. Widen with hope. He smiles gently, "Don't worry we'll tell Professor Dumbledore. He'll keep you safe, all of you."
...Dumbledore?
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Kill Albus Dumbledore.
Draco exhales sharply, no longer looking Potter in the eye.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, gripping his wand.
"For what--"
Draco aims his attack directly at Potter, "Crucio--"
"Sectumsempra!" A voice yells.
White blast covers his vision, the curse striking straight into his chest. Draco staggers backwards, his legs give out. His knees weaken as he collapses. Pipe water splashes on his face. A metallic tang fills his nostrils. A warm liquid spurts upwards. Is it his blood-- An invisible sword slashes his skin and tears through his flesh! Draco screams, but blood fills his lungs chocking him until he is gasping for air.
"Draco!!!"
Harry smiles reassuringly, "Don't worry we'll tell Professor Dumbledore. He'll keep you safe, all of you."
With those words, Draco stands in stunned silence, as if he's been struck by Stupefy. After a brief pause, no more than ten seconds, he exhales shakily. He withdraws from the hug, his eyes averted, seemingly filled with... shame?
"I'm sorry," Draco mumbles, barely above a whisper.
Draco is apologizing?
A tingle pricks at Harry's scar, but he ignores it reaching out again, "For what--" Draco's expression shows conflict and anguish.
"Crucio--"
Before Harry could grasp the weight of the Cruciatus Curse, a blinding flash flies past him. Time seems to slow down as a spell soars by, heading straight towards Draco. That horrid incantation echoing in his ears.
"Sectumsempra!"
Like brush strokes on a blank canvas, slashes appear on Draco's chest. He slips backwards smashing into the puddle, his wand rolls from his limp hand, and the water stains crimson.
No, no...
Not again!
"Draco!!!" Harry screams, grabbing his own discarded wand and slides to him.
Gruesome slashes opening and closing tearing through everything. Draco's pasty pale skin fills with deep cuts and open flesh wounds. What? Why?! Back when the spell hit Tom, his blood would drip and not get very far. But Draco's blood spurts upwards, and flow won't stop at all! Draco's screams suddenly gargles, he choking on his own blood!
"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur!" Harry chants over and over again.
It worked before, so it has to work again!
Harry knees over Draco as the blood flow eases. The wounds slowly close. All the blood flows back into his body, but Draco still didn't seem any better. This time the curse cuts deeper... It must have cut through- How much blood is stagnant in Draco's lungs?!
"Harry?" A voice calls out with concern.
Harry turns and ultimately gazes at Draco's attacker. The one knows firsthand what pain and suffering that spell brings.
"Tom, you--"
Suddenly, the door bursts open. Professor Snape narrowly surveys the room until his eyes land on him and Draco. He shoves Harry aside, and bends over Draco’s body.
"This..." he mutters angrily with a hint of confusion.
Draco gasps and immediately coughs out blood.
Harry gasps, "Draco--"
Tom grasps his hand and pulls out of the washroom. All the while Professor Snape wipes the blood from Draco's mouth and retrieves his, and Draco's, wands. Tom grips tighten as they move far from the boy washroom, but still he shows no sign of stopping.
He used it...
Harry snaps Tom's hand away, ignoring the hurt expression on his fiancé's face.
No, this was too far.
"Why did you do that? Why did you use it on him?!" Harry screams with vitriol.
Tom's eyes widen at his anger. "Harry," he reaches out, but Harry pulls away. Tom frowns, "Why? You truly question why? He was the one who struck first, not with any feeble counterspell, he used one of the Unforgivable Curses! Do not dare defend the likes of him."
He shakes his head, "But you used that spell, that horrible, terrible spell. I hate that spell! You of all people know the wretching suffering it causes, don't you remember how it felt? So, why? Why did you do that to him?!"
"Don't be naive, darling," Tom's voice darkens. "Do you assume I would remain passive while you are in danger? Do you expect me to stand idly as you are brutally tortured, enduring immense anguish?" Tom pushes past the rejection and gently embraces Harry. "I shall not permit any harm to befall you, and anyone who dares shall suffer. Your significance to me surpasses everything. I can't bear the thought of losing you. Harry, I love you."
Harry's heart aches and squeezes at the same time. This isn't fair.
"There's no measure..." Tom presses his forehead onto his. Their bond swells in rich warm passion. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure your safety. I shall protect you. If the roles were reversed, would you not do the same?"
"I..."
He's so confused.
It's true if it were Tom, even if it were Ron, Hermione, or any other of his friends he wouldn't hold back. But, Draco just laid there, in a pool of his own bloody, riddled with excruciating pain. Harry saw the hope in Draco's eyes, he was going to reach out then, then...
Draco...
Harry shakes his head and gazes into Tom's eyes, "I would. I would protect you too, and I will..." He sighs, pushing away, "Just not like this." He yanks the tiny glimmering vial of Felix Felicis, he rips open the seal and brings the vial to his lips. One gulp, the liquid traverses down his throat.
He sways.
"Harry?!" Tom catches him, holding him steady.
Tom's warm hand caresses him. Then all of his anger and confusion shifts into energetic motivation and drive. His mood lifts and he feels less angry. Also there's no doubt Draco is going to be alright.
"It feel... I feels strange..." Harry nuzzles his cheek against Tom's hand. "Tom... You know, I love you too," he says with a confidence he never had before. As Tom sighs in relief, then leans closer for a kiss, but Harry stops him. Something in the core of his gut tells him this is the right decision.
"But, for the meantime it's best if we don't meet."
Notes:
So the chapter is split once again, but I will try to keep the total chapters the same.
Things of note are:
Slughorn has finally seen Tom, someone else watched while Tom tortured Romilda Vane, and Hermione and Ron know everything. Also rest assured Harry and Tom are still Tomarry.Next Chapter:
Harry and Dumbledore travel to the first Horcrux, Tom is cornered to confront his past, and Draco confronts his present.
Chapter 22: I Choose to Be...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Tom..."
Once the wretched Muggle name brought unsustainable wrath, but, from Harry's lips, the sound of his name is bearable... No, delightful.
"You know, I love you too," Harry says in his serpent's tongue. His hisses provide a steady cadence for his heart rate to match.
Thanks to Salazar, Harry understands reason. Tom's retaliation against Draco was absolutely imperative to ensure his safety. With a sigh all his tensions release. Tom slips his arms to Harry's waist; his eyes fixate over those delicate lips. It'll be foolish to allow such distance. Tom leans in only to have a hand obscure his line of sight. A hand wearing his golden family heirloom.
Harry shifts away. "But, for the meantime it's best if we don't meet."
Tom's hand twitches. He chuckles humorlessly, "Don't be rash, Darling. There is no need for--"
"Potter," Snape spats, uttering his beloved Harry's name with such disdain. "You are coming with me." The crude instructor lunges to secure Harry's arm, however at that precise moment, he evades Snape's grasp.
"I understand," Harry nods in acknowledgment, staring deep into his eyes, "After you, Professor."
Harry's boldness from the Felix Felicis combined with his improved Occlumency gives Snape a bemused pause. However the greased professor scoffs, gripping Harry's shoulders, and propelling him to the end of the corridor. As they pass, Snape's gaze momentarily shifts towards Tom. Tom should have retaliated, but his own body betrays him. He remains motionless in the now deserted corridor, enveloped in profound silence--
"It's best if we don't meet."
No.
Utter nonsense.
Surely, his fiancé jests. A simple horrid jest. Well very, Tom shall remain patient until Harry's minuscule "moral conundrum" has settled. For how can Harry deny his presence? His intelligence and drive alongside such comforts and pleasures he provides? This is a mere asinine relapse of stubborn Gryffindor tendencies. Honestly, he is willing to defend, to protect, one as Draco Malfoy? The wretched Death Eater, submissive to the will of his blasted future incarnation? Soon Harry shall see his error and bashfully return to him. With gracious arms Tom will welcome him, no apology required. Indeed, this period of "absence" will pass soon enough.
...Except it doesn't.
The days pass in a haze. Tom had expected Harry to return by supper, however he made no appearance in the Great Hall. Rather, he made no appearance at all. The ill-witted Snape attributes all of Draco's injuries to Harry, causing rumors to spread rapidly, circulating among the walls of Hogwarts. Several plebs turn against his beloved, who said nothing in his defense. Those Slytherins waste no effort in vilifying him with vivid embellishments and falsehoods. Harry faced severe reprimands from McGonagall, along with Snape, resulting in his remaining Saturdays stolen. How pathetic. Harry had done nothing wrong, but endured consequences? From that fractured moment, the remainder of the semester was muted.
A mocking echo mimics 1942, returning to the era when Harry evaded him entirely. Without his Head Boy and Prefect status, drawing out Harry is futile. Scarce fleeting glimpses of his dark brown unruly, fluffy, hair, with his lingering scent are the only evidence of his presence. Without Harry, Hogwarts is profoundly empty. No, not only Hogwarts, various aspects are empty. How naive was he to believe his prior ambitions would ever bring him satisfaction. Dominating the Wizarding World? A Pureblood regime? Immortality? All are dreadly dull without Harry by his side.
Had Draco not threatened Harry, their engagement would have solidified future planning with nights of endless passion leading up to their wedding date. But now, his core aches with a dreadful loneliness. Perhaps, a different approach towards Draco... No, to acknowledge such shortcomings is to concede defeat.
Tom perches his left leg from the edge of the cobblestone window, gazing towards the Quidditch field. Due to Harry's detentions, he isn't able to compete in the remaining matches. Quidditch never interested him, but Harry's involvement intrigued his senses. How Harry expertly grasps the broomstick with both hands and rides it through the air. How he would intentionally ignore the Golden Snitch, only to capture the trinket in Tom's full view. The field fades, being consumed by the night sky. Over Harry's absence the temperature rose, but Tom stubbornly refuses to remove his snake scarf. In his hand, his itinerary journal and Harry's second gift. Tom twirls the fountain pen around his fingers.
"Tom... You know, I love you too. But, for the meantime it's best if we don't meet."
Dreadful punishment lasts longer than it should. Could the daily intake of Felix Felicis influencing Harry's thoughts indulging him in recklessness, or, perhaps, it is purely Gryffindor stubbornness. Either way Tom is at the end of his wits. How his beloved can so easily disappear from his sight is revolting. Next time, he shall ensure no traces of his curses will ever be found.
"Writing in your diary?" One of the twins mutters behind him.
"Schoolboy crush has gotten him crushed is it, eh, Fred?" the other teases.
Tom exhales, whilst rhythmically tapping his foundation pen against the cobblestone bricks. Following the silence, both twins glance at each other.
"Blimey, the bloke is seriously depressed," Weasley grabs his identical brother, whispering rather loudly.
"Even more than Harry was earlier--"
"You've seen Harry?" Tom interrupts, almost dropping his belongings.
Fred nods, "He's been a slippery as of late. Caught sight of him wandering about the halls, fiddling with that ring."
"Right, it seems he was feeling to can it, but then snogged it instead. When he noticed us he scampered off."
Kissed his ring?
That ring...
Tom places a uniquely wrapped three tier golden ring, with an oddly familiar black stone, onto Harry's left ring finger.
"Perhaps forthcoming, or better yet, a formality. Nonetheless, I will fulfill every vow which I have promised you. You belong to me, as I belong to you. Harry Potter, will you marry me?"
Despite their tiff, Harry retains the engagement ring wrapped around his finger. Harry wearing Gaunt family's stone as Tom's patience wears thin. Tom gazes down at his book then towards the pen. Oh, how could he have been so...
Tom shifts from the ledge, standing upright. "Pardon me gentlemen, it was a pleasure conversing," he shoves past the twins, "Mere patience embodies not the true value of a Gryffindor. No, I, as a Gryffindor, should be pursuing, not idling." Tom exits rather hastily as he rushes down the corridor. The moon breaks from behind the clouds, casting a glow through the grand windows and illuminating the halls.
"Best if we don't meet"? Such absolute malarkey shall end.
Beneath his pleasant scarf lies the hues of red and gold. The Lion's emblem of horribly impulsive tendencies should be embraced. Tom's Slytherin pride can be easily displaced by the thought of those lovely thighs around his waist, or perhaps his head. After all, Harry is his, patience isn't.
"MarGaunt," a voice calls out.
He turns to Granger and Weasley standing towards the end. Harry had revealed his true identity to them, and Since then, both have been wary in his presence. Nonetheless, Granger's Gryffindor spirit triumphs as extends her palm, presenting a folded parchment.
"Rather Tom... Um..." she hesitates, "Harry asked us to give this to you."
Tom scoffs, seizing the parchment from her fingertips. He swiftly unfolds the message only to be greeted by such tantalizing handwriting, Harry's handwriting, stating: "It's been a while. I don't exactly know how to start, but you were right. Based on Professor Slughorn's memories, he created six Horcruxes, and we found another one... Meet us at the edge of the gates before curfew begins. If you are a second late, do not bother coming."
Tom glances out the windows to the clock tower, noting the minute hand on the tenth notch.
Ten minutes remaining.
"How cunning..."
Tom dashes down the corridors, noting Granger and Weasley trailing behind him. He turns the corner, but before he could process, Tom is flung through the doorway, into the room. He hurls into an enormous teetering pile of rubbish. His journal slides across the ground.
"Bloody hell!" Weasley shouts, entering through the door.
"Are you-- Wait..." Granger halts in awe at room the size of a large cathedral with towering walls built from ancient artifacts. Priceless gems, old books, brooms, diadems, and vast oddities stored from generations of Hogwarts' inhabitants. Such bountiful hidden histories alongside forbidden powerful items.
"The... the Room of Requirement?" she slides her finger on to collect dust, "But how is it--"
"Confringo!"
A sudden burst of flames erupts into his sight. The intense heat pricks against his skin, but he retrieves his wand, successfully deflecting the assault. The impact caused long red locks to flutter in the air. Rotten red locks. His detestable assailant is none other than the wrenched--
"Ginny!?" Weasley exclaims.
However, she heeds no attention, adamant on remaining vigilant. Her gaze shifts to his journal and her aura changes. "He is not who he says he is," her tone filled with animosity as she glares at his diary.
This shrew decides to validate her suspicions now? Tom doesn't have the leisure of indulging in her ill-vengeance fantasies. Time is of the essence and he shall waste not a second on a Weasley which holds less than no value.
Tom grips his wand, and raises up upwards. He'll spare mercy by immobilizing her. Granger and Weasley shall deal with the aftermath.
"Expelliarmus!"
Another spell strikes, expelling Tom's wand from his fingertips. It glides across the floor colliding against a cabinet.
By that well acquainted voice... One whom Tom is quite familiar with. His eyes narrow towards the intruder's presence.
"Professor Slughorn?" Granger asks, bewildered.
"Colloportus," Slughorn utters, forcing the door to lock.
He is eyes remain steady on Tom's, unwavering and tense. He intently glares, as the youngest Weasley secures his fallen wand. She returns to Slughorn's side, both positioning their wands at Tom.
"My, after fifty years, you haven't changed in the slightest... Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Six.
He created six Horcruxes.
Two have been destroyed, leaving four more. Professor Dumbledore has located another one.
Come on, Tom... Ten minutes left.
Harry anxiously glances at the clock tower and paces back and forth. His engagement ring twirls on his finger, close to his chest. Did he deliver the message too late? No, of course not. This is Tom. Utterly brilliant, smug Tom. He'll understand the importance and come even if they haven't properly spoken since what happened with Draco... Harry shouldn't regret anything. What Tom did to Draco is inexcusable. He would never... Wait, didn't he do the same to Bellatrix? ...Bloody hell. What if Tom doesn't make it? He does have the right to refuse. Harry bites the tip of his right thumb. He quickly looks at the clock again.
Nine minutes left.
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore calls, "Ready to depart?"
"Ah, yes. Well..." Harry looks back, expectedly.
Professor Dumbledore watches as Harry twiddling with a certain ring on his left ring finger. He strokes his beard carefully, as if weighing his options, "A second..." The Headmaster's gaze shifts to the distance Hogwarts, soft light from the windows twinkle like stars on the ground, as the night's breeze flows.
"Harry, do you suppose young Thomas is destined to become the horror we are set to destroy?" Professor Dumbledore asks without looking at him.
Harry frowns, wrenching his fist, "Of course not. Sir, we have been through this, Tom and Voldemort aren't--"
“Indeed," he states, still not meeting Harry's eyes. "Nonetheless, their pasts are shared. They are connected, just as you are connected to Voldemort. Have you wondered? Immortality. Domination. Such a young bright wizard filled with ambitions, skill, and unfilled potential is a fine candidate to be seduced by such tantalizing power. The effects of the Dark Arts can sway one's deep desires into madness."
"Exactly," Harry responds, forcing Professor Dumbledore to face him. "Sir, I’ve experienced first-hand effects of that power. How easy it was for rage to consume my thoughts. It strengthened my magic and blinded me. That darkness... I can’t, I won't, lose Tom to that.”
An image of Draco flashes through his mind. Draco bleeding from Sectumsempra. There is no excuse, only an explanation. Tom Marvolo Riddle. His childhood lost inside the walls of the Muggle orphanage. A core emotion stolen from him by a potion sent to control. No wonder his predisposition hardened his resentment and his loneliness shaped him. Some parts of his past overlapped with Harry's. He understood the pain, and he knows it can be overcome. Tom doesn't have to do it alone, because he is here. Because of...
"Professor Dumbledore. Though we connect by Voldemort, we are more than what he'll ever become. You said so yourself, we have something he never had, and never will experience. Despite the mistakes, despite the consequences. I promise we will hold each other accountable." Harry gazes at him, determination resolute.
“We can rewrite destiny.”
Professor Dumbledore freezes, his expression stunned. Then a brief flash of guilt enters, only to be quickly replaced with a sigh. He takes off his glasses and gazes up at the stars. "Honestly, I find myself quite envious..."
"Sir?"
"I too wish I could have been together with-- Ah... Forgive the rambling of an old man. The consequences of my actions have far been settled... Your influence, no, your love Tom has changed him for the better. It makes me wonder if mine wasn't enough... You two deserved to live out..." Professor Dumbledore places his hand on Harry's shoulder pulling him into a gentle embrace. "Harry, my boy, I'm sor--"
The clock tower echoes, striking at the hour.
Hesitantly Professor Dumbledore let's him go. Harry turns back once more.
Tom didn't come.
"It's time."
An arm reaches towards Harry's face, and as he gazes upward, he sees Professor Dumbledore nodding with gravity.
"Take my arm," he instructs. Harry complies as they Apparate through the air.
"My, after fifty years, you haven't changed in the slightest... Tom Marvolo Riddle." Slughorn snarls.
Tom's gaze narrows in defiance.
The bells resonate across Hogwarts. A new hour has arrived while Tom's punctuality has failed him. He rises from the ground and readjusts his attire. Both the youngest Weasley and Slughorn recoil, but remain vigilant. Complete utter insolence. They prevented him from reconciling with his cherished fiancé.
"Pardon me." Tom lets out an exasperated sigh. "Your timing is rather... Unfortunate. Now, if you would, return my wand and I shall take my leave."
A hex narrowly brushes against his eyes, causing a pile of artifacts to burst into flames. "That was a warning," the youngest Weasley spits.
Tiny embers float into the air, landing on the snake scarf Harry gifted him. Thus, damaging the outer cloth. Tom growls, "On the contrary, it was a mistake."
Granger places herself between them, and Weasley quickly joins her.
"What are you-- Move!" the youngest Weasley gasps.
"Miss Granger," Slughorn interjects, "The weight of this situation is... He isn't as he seems. Do not be deceived as I once was. I regarded him as one of my most exceptional students, a true gem in my collection. A remarkable young man promised as an outstanding wizard. However, there, a monster buried deep within. For the one who stands before you is, in fact, a fragment of He Who Must Not Be Named."
The Potion Professor positions himself in front of his students, using his arm as a protective shield. His gaze lands on Tom. "When I finally laid eyes upon you, terror plagued my thoughts. I denied my very eyes to rationalize your existence. Yet, my worst suspicions were confirmed as Harry approached me for my greatest shame... Now, I realized what you are." He gestures towards the younger Weasley, and they approach Tom slowly. "You foul Horcrux, your charade ends here! No longer will I allow myself to be overshadowed by fear. Horace Slughorn shall not be remembered as a coward! You will regret ever laying your hands on Harry Potter!"
"Vile..." Tom's knuckles clench ghost white. The objects around them tremble lightly from his magic oozing from his pores. "You dare insinuate I would ever harm Harry? The sole individual which means more to me than--"
"Liar!" She shrieks, her own magic leaks.
"Stop!" Weasley steps in between once more, extending his arms, "Listen. It's true, the bloke isn't who he says. Yeah, he's Tom Riddle, but he isn't bloody You-Know-Who!"
"Merlin's Beard! What nonsense are you spouting, boy?!" Slughorn snaps back.
"Sir, it's true," Granger enters the fray. "The Tom Riddle that stands before us was brought here from... 1942."
Slughorn recoils back as if he has been electrocuted. He leans against a chair and his eyes bury themselves into Tom's unchanging gaze. "B-But that's... No, it can't be... How did--"
The youngest Weasley growls in frustration, "Ron, Hermione, are you listening to yourselves? Don't believe him! Don't fall for his lies!"
"He didn't tell us anything. Harry did," Weasley speaks calmly in an attempt to comfort his sister.
"And Harry's been manipulated!" She shouts back. "Manipulated for a while now. Think about it. He was unconscious for two weeks, and for those two bloody undisturbed weeks he was with him. That’s plenty of time to twist Harry's memories, to trick him into believing they're lovers. I was controlled by this," she holds up the diary. "His words, his charms, and it nearly cost me my life. I'll be damned if I let you do the same to Harry!"
"I am not Voldemort."
The forbidden name reverberates through the room, causing Slughorn to shudder. Tom shoves past Granger and Weasley to confront the youngest Weasley. His demeanor oozes with a controlled rage, yet she embodies the courage of a Gryffindor, meeting his gaze without faltering. It was slightly impressive, but not enough.
"Your accusations stem from your evident jealousy." He presses on before she can interject, "Jealousy fueled from Harry's decision to confide in me, to choose me, to love me." Tom's glare intensifies as her rage begins to match the hue of her red locks. Her expression contorts into something horrid. "All the while, unlike Granger or Weasley, he deems you unworthy of knowing my true identity."
"Shut up!" She curses, hurling him against the collection of artifacts. The end of her wand tears through his snake-patterned scarf, pressing firmly against his throat. "You may have deceived him, but I know your true nature. I know what you did to Romilda Vanes."
The three bystanders let out an audible gasp. In return an exasperated sigh escapes Tom's lips. The tear in the scarf irks him the most. "Spare me your moral superiority. That wrenched maggot attempted to love potion Harry. Had you, had any of you, apprehended her first. The same fate would have befallen her."
"We wouldn't have resorted to torture," Her eyes narrow, then an almost sickly sweet smile crosses her face. "Maybe that's why Harry is avoiding you. He never wants to see you again."
"It's best if we don't meet." Harry's words echo through Tom's thoughts. A drop of blood drips from the corner of his bitten lip. This foul bitc--
"Wait..." Granger's eyes widen. "It wasn't just Romilda... What happened to Malfoy... It was you, wasn't it?"
Tom had no need to justify her inquiries, opting to focus on the youngest Weasley instead. "Harry's life was threatened. His safety was my sole priority."
“Riddle," The tone of Slughorn's voice fills Tom with the briefest of nostalgia, "You claim not to be the Dark Lord, but you use his brutality. The brutality which will lead down a dark path. It shall lead you down his path."
Tom’s lips press into a thin line. "The past I share with him is set..."
He inhales, closing his eyes, recalling the precise moment Harry entered into his view. Their first encounter was dismissive and filled with animosity which peaked Tom's curiosity. However, uncovering the truth behind their mere touch, Harry became much more. The mysterious boy dismantled Tom's aspirations, shattered his perspective, and subsequently altered the course of his life. He opens his eyes.
"However... Harry has spared me from such a dire future. He unveiled new paths, brimming with limitless, uncharted possibilities. What glories I previously seek, fail in comparison to the moments I shall cherish with him."
"Young Riddle..." Slughorn observes him carefully, dissecting his words. He exchanges gaze with Granger and Weasley. "Perhaps, I have been given another- erm, You have been given another chance... So--"
The youngest Weasley brow furrows. "Cherish?" She spats, shaking her head in frustration. "Professor Slughorn, don't fall for it. Once his darkness resurfaces, everyone will suffer." Her grip tightening on her wand, piercing into his throat. "You created You-Know-Who. You murdered Harry's parents and destroyed so many lives. I don't care what you say! You are nothing more, but him."
"I bear no responsibility for the crimes he has committed. The obscene creature, who refers to himself as Voldemort, is beyond reason. His foolishness has brought nothing but torment to Harry, my Harry. And... I shall return each suffering ten fold." Tom's eyes darkened, his voice dangerously low. The atmosphere thickens. His words weigh heavy in the air. Yet the youngest Weasley growls unconvinced. Her full intent to slaughter him where he stands.
Tom's eyes twitch, and a vein bugles from his cranium. "Your deep suspicions overshadow all truth. Convincing a daft wrench like you grows tiresome. And... I'd have enough." He shifts his weight backwards. For a brief moment, her shock causes her guard to falter. Providing Tom with the opportunity to seize his wand from her possession. Instantaneously, Granger, Weasley, and Slughorn surround him, aiming their wand at his chest.
In response, a cold, cunning grin curls Tom's lips. He raises his wand and takes hold of the youngest Weasley's hand.
"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, declare an Unbreakable Vow."
"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, declare an Unbreakable Vow."
An Unbreakable Vow? That's impossible... No, it's utterly ridiculous... Why would Riddle--
"Well?" Riddle says impatiently, "I am willing to your terms, rather you accept my own."
Draco barely comprehends the chaos behind a mere wooden plank. Hidden deep within the Vanishing Cabinet, he holds his breath. Moments ago, Draco stalled his anguish. The Hospital Wing can no longer protect him... After what he tried to do to Potter, neither could he. Time has officially run out, and there is no other choice for him. Each passing second fills his veins with ice, his body is numb. Tonight a horde of Death Eaters will storm Hogwarts, and he will... He will fulfill his task. However, he never expected Riddle's true nature would be exposed by the Weasleys, Granger, and Slughorn tonight.
"Very well," Slughorn breaks the silence. His shoes clunk closer and closer until it stops. "Will you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, vow to never become He Who Must Not Be Named, to never become the Dark Lord?"
"I will," Riddle says without hesitation.
A burst red light shines the cracks of the Vanishing Cabinet illuminating the inside.
"Merlin's Beard," the sound of Slughorn's voice lowly mumbles almost as if he's convinced.
"Anything else?" Riddle presses.
"Yeah, I got one," the irritating sound of Ronald Weasley says, "Will you, do the best you can to protect Harry Potter from physical, erm, and emotional, and mental harm?"
"I will."
Again the blinding red light returns swirling in an odd manner.
"Alright, mate. That's good enough for me--"
"And," the know-it-all Granger interjects. "Will you vow to devote and cherish Harry Potter even if there is no benefit for you?"
There's a beat of silence until Riddle answers.
"I will, for all of eternity."
The last vow glows so vividly red, twisting alongside the threads of the others vows. It binds itself together, like braided hair into a fiery snake. The light dies down encapsulating Draco back in the Cabinet's darkness.
"Well?" Riddle asks calmly.
"That's-- You can't just..." the runt of the Weasley mutters.
"Perhaps... This may satisfy you."
A faint crackle barely sounds, but the deafening silence stuns the room. Two small thuds hit the ground, rolling into the Vanishing Cabinet. A collective gasp merges into one.
What the bloody hell?
"Harry is more precious to me than magic itself."
"I... You..." The runt Weasley stutters.
Without another word, something thuds against the wall. Then self-assured, confident footsteps grow faint. Brushing noises combine with even more footsteps each one softer than the last, until something, the door, slams shut.
Silence fills the room.
He’s alone.
Draco is alone...
His left hand presses against the front, and the hinges creak until the door opens. He peers out, only to find the Room of Requirement completely, utterly deserted. Cautiously, Draco steps down, but his foot lands on an uneven floor. He stumbles, but prevents himself from falling. He curses under his breath and steps aside. He glances down and that very breath gets lodged inside his throat.
No way...
There must be something wrong with his eyes. A spell that wraps his vision or something.
It can't be.
Draco lifts his foot once again to find two wooden fragments underneath...
Two halves of a broken wand...
Riddle's wand.
This can't be real...
"Harry is more precious to me than magic itself."
More precious than magic itself? Magic, the fundamental core of any Wizard's existence? Magic is the most important thing. Even those who aren't Purebloods take pride in that flawless aspect. This ability is a blessing that sets them apart from those mere Muggles. Why would Riddle dare to choose otherwise? No, such power shall be cultivated, honored, cherished! What could possibly be more significance than power and its sacred legacy--
"Swear to me! No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family!"
...Grandfather.
Anguished cries echo through the room. A wrenching intensity, shudders down deep into his bones. Draco begs for Lord Voldemort to stop, but the Dark Lord shrugs raising both his hands.
Draco's pupils dilate.
Lord Voldemort isn't holding anything. The only wand is... in his hand.
Mother...
Father...
Draco knees buckle, and he crumples to the ground.
More precious than magic itself? How pathetic, idiotic. Because magic is the only way... to ensure their safety.
Draco stares dazed at the towering pile of trinkets, he strikes at the base causing the clutter to tumble down. At the bottom of the debris is the Echo's Bell. He crawls to the artifact and clutches it tightly to his chest. His body curls into a ball. Suddenly vision of vibrant emerald flash across his thoughts.
"You don't have to do this. Draco, no matter what he's making you do. I can stop him. I can help you."
Draco shakes his head. A single gasp escapes his lips as he murmurs, "Harmonica Necctere Passus."
The bell absorbs his voice like roots absorbing water. The spell hardens into the metal clapper and strikes inside the mouth of the bell. Suddenly, the Vanishing Cabinet begins to tremble, its wood straightens and it mends itself with every echoed spell. With such heaviness weights him down, Draco hoists himself off the ground. He didn't need to linger while the horde of Death Eaters swarm through the corridors. As he rises, he feels nothing. Draco is detached from his very own body. Trudging along to the maximum height of Hogwarts...
The Astronomy Tower.
In a single blink, he's here.
Rather it felt like it.
His body and mind are disconnected.
Draco removes his wand from his hostler and blasts a hole into the dome of the tower. Blankly staring upon the night sky, he waves an infinity sign with his wand.
"Morsmordre."
Green lighting burst from the tip of his wand, leaving a trail of dark heavy clouds. Burst of stars scatter out like the explosion of the sun. The trails of ash viscously morph into a colossal Skull. Thin wires circle the skull and pierces into the empty eye socket slowly transforming to a serpent. The serpent burst from the mouth like a tongue. Down below screams and chaos sweeps the grounds of Hogwarts. The corridors fill with Death Eater after Death Eater, as Dark Mark rises into the sky.
Draco's left forearm burns.
The numbness from his body nearly drowns out a faint murmur coming from the balcony. Draco's eyes narrow as he forcefully blasts the door open. Revealing Dumbledore against the railing. Draco can't afford any recklessness.
"Expelliarmus!"
Dumbledore's wand flies from his grasp. His eyes widened in surprise until he recognized the figure before him. Then, his demeanor shifts into an unsettling calmness. Too calm for someone completely defenseless.
"Good evening, Draco."
"Who else is here?" Draco surveys his surroundings, "I heard voices..."
"Ah, voices..." He strikes he beard, "And have none of them reasoned with you?" He says almost mockingly. Draco points his wand at his chest. Instead of fear, Dumbledore sighs, "You are no killer, Draco."
He bites his lower lip, but refuses to break eye contact. "How do you know what I am? I've done things, you'll never--"
"Hexing Katie Bell to deliver the cursed necklace? Or perhaps replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison? Forgive me, Draco, but these attempts are so feeble I question if your heart has been truly in them. To fulfill this bleak task of killing me... Do you honestly believe Voldemort considers you will follow through?"
Draco flinches at the bluntness of the Dark Lord's name. "He chose me. Out of everyone, he chose me. I was chosen to bring glory." Draco rolls up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark etched into his skin.
"Draco..." Dumbledore says softly, "I once knew a boy years ago who made all the wrong choices. Come over to the right side. There's no need to fight anymore."
An ill memory snipes into Draco's thoughts. One tried his hardest to forget. Grindelwald's voice...
"Don't play dumb, boy. It's beneath you. This potion. The Final Gambit. It was Albus and my last creation... He begged. Oh, how he pleaded, that he didn't want to fight anymore. So we made this..." He lifts up the page with the recipe. "A final drink to end it all. To have our final breath together."
Another memory enters.
"Truce," Potter pathetically pants.
He cautiously shuffles over to Draco's side. He holds out the paper.
"Tsk," Draco snatches it from his hands.
On top it says "Final Gambit".
He scoffs, "The old coot made an impossible potion. How will this help us?!"
"It says 'Final Gambit', like as a last resort it could help us..."
"A Final Gambit."
Draco burst his eyes in a dazed. Reality splashes on him like a bucket of cold water, and he sees Dumbledore's eyes widen in shock.
"That's--"
"You..." Draco steps back.
"You intended to kill Potter if he failed." He chuckles humorlessly. "It's the same... It's the bloody same. Don't you see? I have to kill you, or he'll kill me. He'll kill mother, father. He'll kill them all!" His voice shakes and his wand trembles in his hand. "This is he only way out of this madness."
"Oh my boy. Have you heard what you said?" Dumbledore's posture returns back to calmness. His eyes soften with pathetic pity. "Harry's situation differs because--"
Screams blast from beneath their feet, and heavy footsteps traverse up the stairwell.
"Death Eaters..." The Headmaster hums unfazed, "You found a way to let them in, did you? How?"
"Vanishing Cabinet," Draco answers lifelessly.
"A twin. Ingenious..." Dumbledore exhales, "You truly are a wonderful wizard. And perhaps the greatest Occlumen I have seen to date. Therefore, I find myself curious. When you uncovered the deceit of Voldemort's past, did it not sway your thoughts? Question your allegiance? Draco, you are a bright young man. How can you bring glory if you, yourself, are dead--"
"Shut up," Draco growls, a bit weaker than he hoped. "I'm the one with the wand... You're at my mercy."
"No, Draco," Dumbledore says quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now. Killing is not nearly as easy, and the war is skewed to our favor. Riddled with several advantages."
"Riddle?" Draco questions honing on Dumbledore's pathetic attempt at wordplay. "Riddle is unable to do anything! Of course you don't know! Riddle destroyed his... His..."
Wait...
The image of the broken wooden wand appears in Draco's mind. Riddle snapped it into two. He destroyed his most prize possession for Potter. Rather, he destroyed it in order to gain trust from the Weasleys, Granger, and Slughorn. But... Riddle's wand still exists. Draco remembers that very wand, grasps by grey scaly hands.
The Dark Lord's wand will obey his command.
"His... They can..." Draco says absently.
Dumbledore seemingly understands and nods. "Draco, you can choose to take part or be hidden. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban, and when the time comes we can protect him as well. Come over to the right side, Draco. I can help you."
From the corner of his eyes, there is a sparkle, one matching emerald green. The color reminded him of Potter's eyes.
Draco couldn't speak. His words won't form at all. It doesn't have to be this way. It doesn't have to be the Dark Lord's way. Riddle knows his past, his weaknesses. Maybe... Just maybe... with Riddle, Dumbledore, and Potter they can... Draco gulps and takes several deep breaths, staring at Dumbledore, his wand still directed at the Headmaster's heart.
"My mother and father--"
"They will be safe."
Draco's mouth closes. The wand in his hand still trembles, but drops a fraction--
"Well now, look what we have here," a familiar voice pierces through his eardrum straight into his heart. His blood flow quickens as he sees Aunt Bellatrix. "The filthy Muggle-lover Dumbledore. Wandless and alone. Well, done Draco."
Dumbledore lifts his chin in defiance, "Good evening Bellatrix."
"Ha!" She bellows, "Pleasantries will be your last words! Oh, and look at your rotten hand, good as dead already! Do it, Draco. Kill him!" His aunt shouts manically
They are here.
They are watching him.
They will tell the Dark Lord and he'll...
Draco lifts back his wand, "I-I--"
Instead of fear, Dumbledore looks past him and softly pleads.
"Severus..."
Snape?
Draco is forcefully shoved aside, and before he can comprehend the situation, a beam of green light flashes dangerously close to his face. All accompanied by Snape's commanding voice, yelling...
"Avada Kedavra!"
Notes:
Sorry for the wait, weaving all the details together, and adding more for later. What did you think about Draco hearing Tom's vows, or just the whole chapter?
Next Chapter:
Aftermath of Dumbledore's death effects both Harry and Tom. Also the Death Eater's metting inside the Malfoy Manor, no longer Draco's home.
Chapter 23: Was So Close
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Avada Kedavra!"
A beam of green light flashes, blinding Harry's eyes. He tries to scream, but he couldn’t break through Professor Dumbledore's Body Bind Charm. When his vision finally clears, specks of the Killing Curse linger on Dumbledore's chest. He convulses, and the glint of life in his eyes turns vacant as he sways over the edge. Then, like ink tainting water, the darkness shallows him whole.
Suddenly, his autonomy returns. That could only mean... No! Professor Dumbledore can't be--
Snape grips the scruff of Draco's neck, dragging him down the stairs. Harry grits his teeth, his heart beats faster than ever before. He springs up and races down the bottom of the tower only to catch sight of Snape scurrying away like the true coward he is. A feral growl slips past his lips, and his clentched white knuckles stain with a drop crimson. He chases Snape to the edge of the Hogwarts' ground. Like hell, he would give that bloody Snape the chance to Disapparate!
Suddenly, a massive fireball bursts into the sky, sending Hagrid's hut a blaze.
"Hagrid!" Harry shouts, but a rush of relief enters his veins as the gatekeeper emerges from the other side of flames. From the burning embers stands the bloody murderer.
"Stupefy!"
Harry's attack barely misses, but it's enough to rattle Snape. He flicks his own wand at hand and eyes Harry carefully. He squints in the slightest confusion, but that distraction is all Harry needs.
"Incacerata!" Snape stumbles backward but parries the curse. His stances snap upright, remaining vigliant. He eyes Harry like he is nothing but dirt.
"Impedimenta!"
Snape blocks the spell.
"Confringo!"
He deflects the spell again. All the while treating it like he is wiping off dust from his shoulder.
"Well, Potter," Snape sneers, "I wasn't mistaken. Your Occlumency has improved... However, someone as incompetent as you couldn't have done so on your own. Who--"
"Shut up and fight, you coward!"
"Don't use that word towards me, Potter," he says dangerously low.
With pure anger and defiance, Harry stares into Snape's eyes. Legilimency be damned.
"Coward--"
Before he could finish the insult, Harry knees hit the ground. Bellatrix cackles maniacally, gleeully relishing in his screams. Harry squirms only for the pain to intensify. His arm contorts backward with his head thrashing violently. A sharp force pangs throughout his skull.
"No!" Snape yells, almost in a panic. "I-- Have you forgotten? He belongs to the Dark Lord!"
"Cruciatus!"
Suddenly, the pain stops. Harry heaves and heaves, regaining air back into his lungs. He coughs, watching as... Tom? As Tom lays waste to Bellatrix. Without his wand? Where is-- No, not the time.
Harry forces every fiber of his being to stand. He stumbles closer, diverting Snape's attention away from Tom. He remembers when Tom asked what he was willing to do to protect him. Then, a horrible, terrible curse enters his thoughts and lingers on his lip. Oh, how Harry absolutely hates that spell. But... It looks like Tom was right. Because in this very moment, he hates that bloody bastard more.
"Sectumsempra!"
Snape's eyes widen like Harry has never seen before. However, instead of ripping the murderer into flesh and limbs, Harry is hurled through the air with his wand, flinging out of hand. He crashes towards the ground with a heavy thud. His body aches, and his mind is disorenitented. So disorenitented, he didn't realize Snape stalking forward to loom over his battered body.
"You dare use my own spells against me?!"
"What?" His vision starts to clear. "Are you saying you're the Half Blood..." his words stay lodged in his throat. Because what stands behind Snape.
Slytherin robes...
Platinum blonde hair...
And silver eyes...
Silver eyes filled with pure terror.
That expression... It doesn't match what it's supposed to. That's.... pure fear and confusion? Back in the Astronomy Tower... Professor Dumbledore stood there, utterly defenseless and vulnerable. His life was at Draco's mercy. But Harry saw it. He saw it all. Draco hesitated. He stopped. He was willing to listen to reason. Then he lowered his wand. Those aren't the actions of a Death Eater. No, it was... It was the Draco he remembered. The Draco back in 1942, the one who he helped the save Muggles.
The one who comforted him.
"Draco..." Harry barely whispers.
Snape scoffs, insulted, "Potter, even now you lack focus! Then so be it..." He raises his wand to Harry's head but turns at the last second. "Confundo!"
The hex strikes Tom away from Bellatrix, propelling him into a tree.
"Tom!"
Harry tries to conjure a shield, but Snape sends his wand out of reach with a bloody kick. He sneers, sprinting past the injured Bellatrix towards Draco. "Move, Draco, now!" he barks, seizing Draco by the arm, while Bellatrix limps behind. Together, they race past the burning infernos beyond Hogwarts' boundaries. Bright flames turn sickly green, fusing into the skull. With a bright flash, they vanish into the night.
"No!"
Harry clutches the blades of grass shards, yanking them from its roots. With wrentching pain, he grabs his wand. There's no way he'll let Snape get away. He bolts up only for the earth to tilt sideways.
"Harry!" Tom exclaims, catching him before he crashes onto the ground.
"Tom?" Harry squints, "Are you alright?"
"Me?" Tom growls, cradling Harry's cheek. "Had I stayed by your side, this wouldn't have..." He keeps him in his embrace, tenderly pushing his bangs away. Harry flinches as Tom brushes a relativity sore spot. He withdraws slightly and is eyes darken. Each bruise and blemish on Harry's skin adds fuel to Tom's unyeilding rage. "That insufferable bast--"
"Tom," Harry hisses, accidentally wrinkling Tom's sleeve with his grip.
Tom's fury subsides, barely. He glides over, tracing gentle circles on his back. "Darling. Where exactly do you hurt?"
"No... He's dead... Dumbledore is dead..." Harry's voice trembles, cracking under the weight of the realization.
"And Snape killed him."
All lessons are suspended. The corridors are empty. Even the air itself is stale. Hogwarts is utterly silent. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin. All houses alike mourned the death of the Headmaster...
Albus Dumbledore.
Once a formidable wizard, renowned as the most powerful sorcerer of all time. But now, he lays plaint within a mere casket. His complexion drained of color, and his fractured limbs are concealed beneath dazzling white robes. His eyes are shut with his position arranged to form an illusion of him in a deep slumber. His lifeless corpse is so dreadfully... mortal.
Oh, how there were occasions Tom envisioned Dumbledore's demise. How he would personally induce his cathartic downfall for his constant pestering and blatant disrespect. The wretched relic who, upon their first encounter, found Tom to be a brilliant, disturbed child trapped amongst the midst of Muggles. Over his years at Hogwarts, while the masses bend to his will, Dumbledore stood. The only one able to perceive past his facade to unveil his true nature.
Yet, upon his arrival in this timeline, Tom's perspective alters. For had it not been for Dumbledore's presence, Tom would have remained a prisoner of the Muggle Orpanage, never steeping foot within the walls of Hogwarts, nor discovering his true potential But, most significantly, he would have never...
Met Harry.
Tom sets one final gander at Dumbledore's lifeless form as the casket closes. Till his dying breathe, he remains a complex man embedded with secrets. However, one thought prevails. His efforts toward Tom Riddle weren't in vain.
"Rest well, you archaic oaf. Harry shall be in my care," Tom murmurs in Parseltongue.
From the corner of his sight, Harry stands devoid of any emotions. A crowd mourners step closer, obstructing Tom's view. When they disperse, he vanishes. Tom furrows his brows towards his direction. However, a hand seizes his arm, preventing him from his fiance.
"You were hissing..." McGonagall states without pretense. "It was... Parseltongue." Her voice falters sightly.
The inner mechanisms of her mind began to spin as various thoughts piece themselves together. Ultimately leading her to an, albiet logical, erroneous conclusion.
"I know of one other who can speak that tongue. You..." she states venomously, "You are responsible for this. For all of this."
"I can ensure you, your accusations are utterly misguided," Tom replies, ajusting his arm back. Her grip tightens.
"You aren't going anywhere, you--"
"Minerva," Slughorn interjects, subtly tires ushering them from prying eyes. When she refuses to oblige, he shakes his head. "If you would please."
"Horace," she says sharply, "I don't think you realize the intense impacations of this boy's presence."
"Professor McGonagall, we do understand," the youngest Wealsey anwsers instead.
She weaves past Slughorn, and her eyes begrudingly mets Tom. With a cletched fist, she sighs, "Go. We'll explain everything."
Such a boarish Gryffindor behavior, deeming Tom worthy of his fiance. However, he supposes having the entire Weasley bloodline as allies shall be most beneficial.
"Pardon me, professor," Tom says rather dismissively, leaving the three to their own decives. After all, he has more pressing matters to tend to.
With all the current dire events striking simultaneously, his beloved fiance is undoubtedly overwhelmed. Of course, it's solely his responsibility to ease Harry's tensions. After all, he vowed to protect him from all physical, emotional, and mental harm. The corridors are barren, just as the rest of Hogwarts. However, Tom ultimately discovers him atop the Astronomy Tower.
Somber beauty drifts across the air as Harry stares off into the far distance, even his backside is immaculate. His hands fiddle with a forgein object.
"Hi Tom," Harry's lovely voice greets softly, without ever seeing behind him.
"Ah..." Tom slowly approaches, "Your ability to sense my mere presence is truly remarkable. I find myself quite enivious I'm unable to reciprocate, especially when precarious situations find you so often."
"Sorry..." Harry tightens his hold on a... locket. "I just... I needed to be alone."
Tom chuckles humorouslessly, "Darling," he lifts Harry chin, gazing into such stunning emerald eyes, "That is the last thing you need."
"Tom..." his beloved fiance breathlessly gasps his name.
Tom's restaint falls. He presses their forheads together. Instantly, a surge of warmth, passion, and comfort envelops them. Their bond fills his core as if nothing else matters. So it would be utterly foolish not to embrace Harry. Tom cradles Harry's cheek, drawing his other hand around his waist, and kisses him. In return, Harry wrinkles his shirt, deepening the kiss more desperately. Tom slips his tongue in to relish Harry's delighful, addictive flavor.
By Merlin, how he missed this.
Regrettably, air becomes a necessity. As they part, Tom can not resist licking his lips, unfortunately breaking the thin strand of saliva connecting them.
Harry, in a daze, leans against his chest. Tom could feel his warmth. The way his heart beats. How Harry remains securly in his embrace. This precious moment... is everything.
"I'm..."
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry. For ignoring you and everything," Harry adorable peeks up at him. "I still don't condone your actions, but... I understand a bit more. When Snape was there, I wanted to just-- A terrible part of me thought that you would... Ah, never mind."
"Harry, I won't accept what isn't necessary," Tom whispers with pure delight as Harry shivers by his breath. "And your apology isn't necessary. Nonetheless, I was at fault, for I was rather brash that day. Thus, I've undergone several vow-uable amends since."
Harry regrettably withdraws. His mouth draws open, inquiring about Tom's clever, astute choice of words. However, those brilliant green eyes wander towards an arbitrary location behind him, causing Harry's attention to slip away. How disrespectful.
"Harry," Tom lowly rumbles, taking hold of his left hand and kissing his engagement ring.
A dusting of pink flushes over Harry's cheeks. "Ah. It happened over there." He points to the far side of the balcony. "Draco and Dumbledore stood face to face. He said Voldemort was threatening to kill him, to kill his parents. He had no choice but to follow his orders. But... Even so, I saw him. I saw him lower his wand. He was going to stop. Then Snape." Harry spits out the name with such hatred. "It was Snape who did it. It was always Snape!" Harry's anger steeps out as he bits his lips.
"My, my. My fiance is such a benevolent soul," Tom says surly. He quite enjoyed Harry's descent into pure wrath. However, Harry's right hand clentches on a peculiar object elongating his knuckles.
"What are you fiddling with?"
Harry hesitates momentarily, burdened by some significance of the object. A sorrowful expression fuses with his striking features. Harry extends his right hand to unveil a golden locket adorned with shimmering green stones. At the center, an intricately designed serpent winds itself to form the letter S, all encased within a faceted clear gem. Slytherin's Locket. However....
Tom presses his nail against the faceted stone, leaving a noticeable scratch in behind. "Hmm, it's host stone shouldn't be so frail--"
"It's a fake," Harry answers, confirming his suspicions. "Professor Dumbledore risked his life for this, this imitation!" He lets out a broken sigh. "It's up to me now. I have to finish what he started. I have to track down the rest of Voldemort's Horcruxes and destroy them. I'll be the one who's going to kill him. And... if I meet Severus Snape along the way," he speaks lowly, "It'll be so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."
A shiver of anticpatiction traverses up Tom's spine. He hopes he will be there to witness Harry bring forth Snape's demise.
Harry gazes out the window upon the entirety of Hogwarts. A wave of saddness washes over his features.
"This is it," he whispers, "I won't be coming back."
"We," Tom corrects, taking Harry's hand.
"What?" Harry gasps, "But Hogwarts, your future--"
Tom gently caresses his fiance's red lips with his thumb and slips an arm around his supple waist.
"We, darling," He tone left no room for debate, and Harry melts into his embrace.
"...You're becoming a real stubborn, hard-headed Gryffindor, you know that?"
"Oh really?" Tom slurs, "Care to find out which of my heads are hard?"
"Well Tom..." Harry sinfully moans, "Why not both?"
"Merlin!" A voice calls out embarrassed, a voice belonging to none other than Weasley
Harry's cheek turns a deep shade of crimson. Naturally, Tom had no option but to draw him even closer.
"H-how long have you two been here?!"
"Long enough. I'm glad you two have reconciled..." Granger replies, clearing her throat from the uncomfortable aptmoshere. A smile reappears on her face. "You don't honestly believe you can find all those Horcruxes by yourselves, do you?"
"She's right, you know," Weasley interjects, "After all, someone's got to keep you blokes on track. Otherwise, you'll get distracted by... certain other activities."
"And," Granger nudges Wealsey's arm. "We will be support since Tom doesn't have a wand."
"What?" Harry frowns almost resembling a pout, "What happened to your wand?"
Tom presses a kiss on his scar, the suddent wave of heat causes them both to shudder. "Circumstanes required so... Fortunately, there is an exact replica I shall acquire." Voldemort will no longer require the use of his wand. Not after his fiance slains the foul beast. In fact, the wand may present certain disatears in such insolent hands, so he will take it from those hands.
"Now, where do we begin?" Tom asks.
Alas, those brilliant emerald glisten.
Chanting.
Marching.
Screams.
An army.
An army of faceless Death Eaters erupt everso gleefully as chaos erupts into terror. Students in the nightclothes peer from their windows. Their bodied turn into ghostly figures, breaking through the glass, scattering across the air.
It's impossible.
This is his...
Fear enters Draco's lungs as he hears it. The blood ripping incantation.
"Sectumsempra!"
No, not again!
Draco doesn't shut his eyes in time. Instead of dripping red covering his vision. A body is hurled into the air, crashing down to the ground like a ragdoll.
Potter.
Then it happened.
Those emerald green eyes lock with platinum eyes, yet Draco stands frozen. A dazed look mixes with a sorrowful expression. He lies in the dirt in indescribable pain. Potter silently mouths his name.
"Draco..."
The sky falls.
"Draco."
The earth melts.
"Draco!"
Draco jolts awake, drenched in completely sweat. His clothes cling to him like a second skin. His eyes reajust throigh the darkness, and a figure stands by his bedside.
"F-father?"
"Ah, Draco..." His father soothes him. "It was
a dream, merely just a dream."
Ah. How could he have forgotten? He is finally home.
His father takes a cloth and gently wipes the sweat from Draco's brow, offering a strained smile before opening the wardrobe to retrieve one of Draco's most exquisite wizarding robes. The tension in the air is deafening because... The Malfoy Manor is no longer theirs.
"Let's not dawdle, Draco. The Dark Lord awaits."
Draco pushes his weighted covers off, only to find his feet are made from lead. He and his father enter into the heart of the Malfoy Manor, the Drawing Room. However, instead of the comforts of home, all of his childhood furniture is callously pushed against the wall, and countless priceless artifacts are carelessly stacked on top of each other. The only source of light is the flickering fire beneath the mantlepiece, but it's enough to illuminate the room. A long table is at the center with Death Eater after Death Eater filling up the chairs, and above them, something spins on the celling. Draco couldn't quite make it out. His mother eyes widen as she sees them and urgently waves them to their assigned seats. His father sits beside his mother, and Draco sits next to his father. There at the head of the table white scaly flesh and gleaming red eyes...
Lord Voldemort.
The doors swing open.
"Ah, Severus," the Dark Lord hisses his "s," "I was beginning to worry you’d lost your way. Come. Your seat is here." He gestures to the open chair right beside him.
"Of course, my Lord," Snape bows.
"So?" The Dark Lord presses impatiently, with no indication of any context.
Luckily, Snape answers his cryptic question. "It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall."
Another rises, Yaxley, and leans closer, "I have heard differently, My Lord. The Potter boy will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before he turns seventeen."
Snape chuckles, well barely, "A false trail. The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."
The Dark Lord's lipless mouth extends upwards, almost like a smile, "And where will the boy be taken?"
"To a safehouse. Likely the home of someone in the Order. Once there, it will be impractical to attack him. We may have compromised the Ministry, but there are those who remain loyal to him. As long as the Ministry stands, his allies within will have the means at their disposal to ensure his protection," Snape explains.
They plan to move Potter? But won't that mean he will be in the open--
"Wonderful," Lord Voldemort cuts through Draco's thoughts. “He shall be exposed. Thus, easier to take by force.”
Had he known less, he would have thought the Dark Lord read his mind. Draco clenches his fist onto this lap. Suddenly, the fissure from above... shrieks? Draco glances up, only for his eyes to grow in horror. There beheld a body contorted and twisted, dangling in a grotesque and constriting manner. The woman looks--
"My Lord," Aunt Bellatrix shrills at the exact same the woman wails again. "If I may, I'd like to volunteer myself for the task of killing the boy."
"Ah..." he hums, glaring at the body above in displeasure. His gaze returns to Aunt Bellatrix, "As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix. There have been far too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. That boy lives more due to my errors than to his triumphs. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be."
Aunt Bellatrix bows with reverant, "Certainly, My Lord. But, I have a request."
"A request? How intriguing," he hums, prompting the Death Eaters to join in his amusement. "Tell me, what is it that you seek?"
"Oh my Lord, the boy's death is solely yours to command. Therefore, I humbly ask your permission to kill his insufferable boy toy. That wretched poof dared to use the Cruciatus Curse on me, me!"
"Without even weilding a wand, no less," Snape adds.
"You were bested by Potter's pathetic boyfriend?!" one of the Death Eater cackles, and the rest erupts in laughter. However, this time, the Dark Lord remains deadly silent, casting down a single darken glance. An immediate hush crosses the room as everyone senses his displeasure.
"Potter's nameless, Gryffindor, half-blood beau possesses wandless magic with proficiency in the Dark Arts..." Lord Voldemort's blood red eyes forms into a slit.
Draco holds breath.
"A brilliant feat," the Dark Lord spits out the praise, "Pity such potential is wasted on one who is weak. To be shackled by Potter? Such misguidance in pursuit of love is utterly repulsive! You have my blessing, Bellatrix. Kill him gradually and exruciatingly in Potter's full sight. I'll enjoy as complete despair overtakes him."
"Yes, My Lord," Aunt Bellatrix slurs, just like Lestrange.
"However..." The Dark Lord rises from his seat, and the tension in the room thickens. "I face a, a rather unfortunate complication. For my wand shares its core with the one Harry Potter... We can wound but, regretably, not fatally harm one another. Which means, if I am to kill him, I will have to do so with another’s. Any volunteers?"
Draco forces his eyes down.
Don't come here.
Don't come here.
Please, for the love of Merlin, don't come here.
The Dark Lord steps approach closer and closer. Until Draco could feel his presence pricking at his skin.
"Malfoy."
Draco's heart sinks.
"Lucius Malfoy," Lord Voldemort continues. He hums lightly, "I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore.”
Draco feels the vibrations from his father's chair as he peers up. "M-my Lord?"
“I require your wand, Lucius.”
"I..."
His father sits stunned, paralyzed by such a request. Draco brielfy meets his father's eyes, unable to even suggest disobeying the Dark Lord. His father turns to his mother's gaze as she lightly grazes his wrist. She nods. Then, lowering his head, his father goes into his robes and presents his wand to Lord Voldemort.
He tilts it to the flames to gather more light. "Do I detect Elm?"
"Y-yes, my Lord."
"And the core?"
"Dragon, dragon heartstring..."
The Dark Lord familiarizes himself with the new weight and heft of his father's wand. If Lord Voldemort truly intends to use his father's wand, then his father will be completely vulnerable. He'll be at the mercy of the Order. No... That isn't fair. Maybe his father will receive a replacement wand in exchange for his own. Another wand. Draco's eyes wander towards the head of the table, where the Dark Lord's wand rests. He inadvertently looks up, locking eyes with those of piercing blood red. Quickly, Draco averts his eyes downward, but the action does not go unnoticed.
Lord Voldemort raises his nonexisent eyebrows, "Give him my wand, Draco? My wand?"
His father gazes at him in horror, while a few other Death Eaters mockingly sneer. Draco bows his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole, anything for him to escape the searing humilation.
"Now, now, Draco, raise your head. Your inputs are most valued. For we could not have obtained victory if not for your brilliant assistance. In fact..."
The Dark Lord hisses lowly, and the table's legs tremble as movement emerges from the shadows. Deep green scales refact the little light in the room. Once, a mere creature coiling like rops around Riddle's shoudlers now grew into a banemath.
Nagini.
With a menace and grace, she slithers across the table, providing Lord Voldemort his wand. Her vertical, slit-like pupils suddenly focus on Draco, unblinking and unyielding. As if testing him, her forked tongue flicks out to brush against his cheek. Lord Voldemort hisses in Parseltongue, and Nagini retreats to his side. He gently strokes the top of her scales, and his mouth curls into a smile towards his father.
"My, what joyless expressions of the Malfoy Family. What is it that about my presence displeases you? My return, my rise to power, is it not the very thing you desire for so many years?"
“Of course is my Lord,” his father hastily replies. His hands shake, and sweat pools on his upper lip. “We did desire this. Erm, we do.”
“My Lord,” his mother interjects, “We are honor to have you here. There's no higher pleasure.”
Lord Voldemort hums satifsied with their responses. “What say you, Draco?” he questions eerily quiet.
"I..."
Thrashing from celling shifts his attention upwards to the bounded woman.
"Ah, yes." He places his wand down, raising his father's wand, he points to the body above. With a single flick, the woman falls to the table with a terrible thud. She twiches against the invisible bonds.
"Allow me to introduce our guest, Miss Charity Burbage, a professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her specialty... Muggle studies." The Death Eaters wrench in disgust. "It is Miss Burbage’s belief that Muggles are not so different from us. To her insolent thoughts, the mixture of magical and Muggle blood is not an abomination. Even something to be encouraged. Of course, those of us with civilized views will disagree."
Charity’s tear-streaked face turns to Snape, her voice hoarse with fear. "Severus, please. Please..."
"Quiet," the Dark Lord callously dismisses her, approaching Draco. "See, dear boy, your deeds shall be rewarded. I present to you one of the highest honors."
Lord Voldemort points his father's wand to Draco's collar, guiding him up from the chair. With a deliberate motion, the Dark Lord presents his most treasured possession, his own wand.
"Kill her."
His mother audibly gasps, shifting from her chair. However, his father holds her. Fortunately, the other Death Eaters focus is completely on Draco's actions. His hands tremble as he holds Lord Voldemort's wand in his grasp. His parents' expression turns into silent terror, and Aunt Bellatrix begins seething with both envy and pride. As for the rest of the Death Eaters, they observe with dire anticpation. Draco's heart races through his chest like a stamepde of elks. He takes the Dark Lord's wand, turning to confront the Muggle professor.
Charity squirms in fear, tears pour from her eyes damping her unkept hair. Something about her reminds him of familar...
Of someone familar...
Her two little arms wrap around his neck and squeeze him tightly.
"I knew it! I told you hope is the strongest!! No, wait... You are the strongest! Malfoy, you are my hero!" the little girl proclaims.
Judy...
Suddenly, her features morph into an exact replica of the sweet, bright little Muggle girl. She was only six years old when she stolen from her home and imprisoned for Grindelwald's amusement. Yet, despite the toturous conditions, she pervailed and maintained hope. When his body couldn't move. When all Draco could do was watch. She was saved by...
"STOP!!!"
Potter voice echos through his mind.
Draco's snaps back to reality. Judy doesn't exist in this timeline, and Potter...
"You don't have to do this. Draco, no matter what he's making, you do. I can stop him. I can help you."
Potter isn't here.
"Go on, Draco," Aunt Bellatrix proudly, but impatentily presses.
No, Potter isn't here....
Draco collapses to his knees.
It's just him.
Draco kneels, bowing deeply and presenting the Dark Lord's wand above his head. "I-I am but unworthy, my Lord," he declares. His face remains hidden towards the ground, and a slight exhale indicates he evaded scrutiny and spared her life.
"Well put, Draco. Very well," Lord Voldemort muses. Just then, he flicks his wrist.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light burst throughout the room, filling every nook and crany. The impact causes the Death Eaters' chair to scrape backward. Then, with a heavy thud, Charity's body crashes against the table.
Draco's eyes widen.
This Killing Curse isn't like Snape's before. Back in the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore fell into the abyss, but here... Charity dies flopping to the ground, as nothing more than a bag of dirt, like nothing important. Fear steeps into his veins and--
“Dinner, Nagini,” Voldemort chimes softly.
The enormous serpent slithers to her corpse. There starts unsettling noises. A low slurp with crackings of what could only be bones. Fortunately, the height of the table spares Draco's sight, but the fireplace stands behind him... and the shadows which hide, exposes everything.
The Dark Lord steps closer, retreiving his wand from Draco's grasp. "Thus the truth. No one can possess my wand's power nor allegiance, but me. Perhaps not all Malfoys a source disappointment." He directs his tone towards his father, and the Death Eaters jovially laugh. How dare they--
"Therefore... Bellatrix." Her demeanor brightens madly. She leaps in pure delightful insanity. "By Draco's development, your worth has been proven. A superior guidance than his direct bloodline. Thus, I entrust you with the responsibility of overseeing this." he places his wand in her hands. "Remember, it is more significant than your life."
"Yes, my Lord," she disgustingly moans.
At that moment, the hierarchy shifts. Snape and Bellatrix ascend upwards, while his father descends into disgrace. The Death Eaters scoffs even openly, ridiculing him, within his own home! The respect for the Malfoy's name teether at Draco while the deem his father a lost cause. It's a grudesome disdain that showed. Treating his father like he did to the Mudbl... Muggle-borns. Why are his rewards at the expense of his parents? The Dark Lord refuses to allow his father to use his own wand, yet he permits both himself and Aunt Bellatrix to hold it? No, it isn't a reward. It's an act of humiliation. Showing all the Death Eaters who has been cast aside.
The Dark Lord will rise to power, he already has. His influence, his magic, it'll extend across the land, and eveuntally... consume all of the Wizarding World. Draco, his family, has no other choice but to obey and survive.
However...
A certain stubborn Gryffindor git won't go down easily. Another factor that lays midst as well. Despite Lord Voldemort's divine ruling, he is unaware of a dire threat. A person who knows his past and his secret. The one even he can't anticipate.
Worh complete reverence, Aunt Bellatrix holds the Dark Lord's wand... No, it's not only his wand. It's also Riddle's--
"Raise Draco," the Dark Lord orders.
Draco becomes hyper aware that he is still on the ground. Gradually, he rises, his eyes on the wand in Aunt Bellatrix's grasp, then quickly shifts to his broken father's expression. They do not meet each other's gaze.
"Take your seat. Unless there's more you care to express?" he inquires.
Draco's legs wobble has he stands.
Should tide change and the moment aligns... Potter and Riddle can lead to the Dark Lord's downfall.
Draco bows deeply, "N-no, my Lord."
Notes:
Draco finally sees.
Tom's and Dumbledore's relationship is pretty interesting. If they had a chance to do it over would change it all.
Next Chapter:
Draco's new normal as a seventh year at Hogwarts and the hunt for the Horcruxes takes an unexpected turn.
Chapter 24: Sleeping Without Rest
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There's no place like home sweet home...
What a foul lie.
All the comforts, the mundane nostalgias, and the Malfoy's legacy are diminished. The Death Eaters didn't care about the sanctity and pride of their intercate portaits or priceless heirlooms. No, everything the Malfoy's own were callously discarded in efforts to "clear space". Those ordinary details, Draco never thought to cherish, are now gone, gone like his father's wand. Ever since...
The Dark Lord has risen to power.
Summer ends with the Ministry in Lord Voldemort's palm. His seventh year awaits him, and ever before has he been more desperate to escape... to leave the manor. Once at Hogwarts, nothing outside its walls will matter. He'll be among his Slytherin peers, and the only stresses will be by OWL lessons. Perhaps he will become the Head Boy, then the Slytherins will win every Quiddich match, and--
Red and gold trample his thoughts.
He couldn't stop him from entering his mind.
Potter.
Stupid bloody Potter, standing and waiting. Inevitably, those green eyes would lock onto his. Then, as they meet, displeasantries will be exchanged, turning into a barrage of insults, like they always done. A pathetic part of him imagined Potter bursting into the Great Hall, and everything would go back to normal. But, of course, Potter doesn't appear. Lord Voldemort made sure of that. The new Undesirable Number One made every Death Eaters, wizards, and witches alike, united to capture the Boy Who Lived...
"Quiet." A voice commands.
Draco snaps back into reality. Back inside the Great Hall.
There's no resemblance to anything under Dumbledore's reign. Unlike previous years, where the houses would eagerly anticipate the sorting of the new first years, this year, heaviness fills the air. More than half of their "trusted professors" have been dismissed, and in their place: Death Eaters.
Hogwarts is unrecognizable.
Still, a handful of foolish instructors decided to remain. Among them being McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, Flich, Flitwick, Slughorn, Hagrid. All the students murmur anixously, in their respective tables. The newest underclassmen are binded in pure unease, frozen pure terror.
The students' distressful chaos causes the newly titled Headmaster's command to be ignored. Snape huffs.
The Death Eaters grin madly and leap on top of the staff's table. They kick the plates of food out of the elves' hands and squeal in delight. Then, a rain of Cruciatus Curses casts into the student body.
Draco ducks under the table as the rest of the students scream in bloody horror.
They're insane!
But...
The vibrations don't match their screams. He slowly peeks up from the edge. There is no damage to the Slytherin table. He sits up, scanning the room. The Weasleys, one Weasley short, and the rest of their table hide.
The Death Eaters attacks aren't unhinged as he thought. No, they are only aiming for Gryffindors.
Snape raises his hand up, and the assult stops.
"One thousand points to Slytherin," he announces. Before anyone could protest, "For being the only ones capable of following simple instructions."
Hundreds of hateful gaze casting in his direction.
Unfazed, Snape continues, "The upcoming curriculum has been revised to align with the current Wizarding administration's wishes. Obedience is mandatory, and disrespect will not be tolerated. Any of you who fail to adhere to the new regulations will face... infractions." Snape scans the room. "Is that understood?"
Silence engulfs the Hall.
"Well, then. Welcome to Hogwarts."
A day ends, but the rest of the term awaits. New rules are enforced by the Death Eater professors. Part of Draco quite enjoyed the clear favoring towards the Slytherins. But, the other part is terrifed how the Dark Lord's influence bleeds into every lesson.
Why did he believe Hogwarts would be an escape?
Draco sighs, sinking deeper into the common room's cushion. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Blaise tend to the new first years luckly enough to be sorted into Slytherin during this maddness.
"...and you'll have to share sleeping chambers," Blaise gestures down the door.
"And that's the end of the tour," Pansy claps her hand, almost too enthusiastically.
"This year, Slytherins are gonna to top every house and class," Goyle pumps his fist in the air.
"Yeah," Crabbe replies, "I also heard that stupid muggle-mudblood class is gone. They finally got rid of Miss Burbage--"
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light burst throughout the room, filling every nook and crany. Then, with a heavy thud, Charity's body crashes against the table.
“Dinner, Nagini,” Voldemort chimes softly.
The enormous serpent slithers to her corpse--
"SHUT UP!" Draco shouts, refusing to relive the memory. His heart quickens. Sweat turns cold. His eyes widen as the entirety of the room stares at him. Watching him.
"Draco," Blaise approaches and gently touches his right shoulder, "Are you alright?"
Draco slaps Blaise's hand away. He needs to keep whatever Malfoy dignity he had left. "I'm fine. Just leaving."
"What about the new curfew?" He hears Crabbe asks.
He clicks his tonuge, "What about it?" He shoves Crabbe aside and leaves the common room.
Of course, their new prison lock-downs. It shouldn't matter, as the Slytherin's Prefect, he should be the one to impement the rules. No one can--
"What are you doing out?!" A nasally harsh voice shrieks.
Bloody hell.
Draco scoffs, grumbling for some sort of excuse. By the time he opens his mouth, he realizes the voice isn’t directed at him.
"I-I... I thought I heard something in... in t-the walls," the trembling first-year Gryffindor stutters.
Something in the walls?
The "professor" scoffs and looms over, "Oh, you heard something?" The Death Eater mocks with a whiny tone. "But you didn't hear when curfew is, is that it?"
"I'm s-sorry!" The first-year pleads. "I didn't mean to!"
"Ohhh, you didn't mean to? Well, too bad ignorance isn't an excuse." A smug expression takes hold.
"Crucio!"
Anguished screams echo down the corridor with chilling laughter not far behind. Grindelwald's followers... The Death Eaters...
How they use the Unforgiviable withput batting an eye?
So casually...
So, gleefully...
Draco clentchs his left forearm. He couldn't--
"Enough!" The familar voice of McGonagall appears. She steps between them.
"Well, well, Minerva," the Death Eater taunts.
"Rest assured, I will deal with this situation."
"Hmm, very well then," the Death Eater hops back. Then that sadistic smile fades. "But know you'll be dealt with soon enough... Crucio!"
"Ahhh!" The first-year screams again, and McGonagall rushes to cover the child.
"Tsk, tsk, Gryffindor. Rules are to be obeyed. Try to remember that for next time," the Death Eater hums, then eyes widen meeting with Draco. "Ah, Malfoy, lovely night for a stroll, isn’t it?"
"I... Indeed..."
McGonagall shoots Draco a dark glare. "Come, child, let's bring you head back to bed," she says smoothly. Her soft voice returning to soothes the trembling first year. They disappear down the hall.
"How fortunate I ran unto you. Headmaster Snape has summoned your presence."
Draco's eyes narrow as he heads down the corridor without sparing a proper farewell. Why the "Headmaster" wanted to see him, it probably isn't to share a cup of tea. Draco's feet are lead, taking his time before ultimately arriving at the top of the Headmaster's chambers.
The grand doors open on their own.
Instead of Dumledore's preivous grand warmth, the current chamber is dark and ominous. It's so cold... Even the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses' potraits huddle and whispers amongst themselves. Dumbledore's image is nowhere in sight. As Snape glances at the portraits and immediately the room silences.
"Draco."
"Snape."
Snape opens his mouth to correct him but sighs instead. "Congratulations," he says, devoid of any emotion. "As the new Head Boy."
Head Boy...
The title rings inside his ego. A future where he walks through Hogwarts, everyone would know the great Malfoy's name. Oh, how he dreamed about receiving such a pristine status. And now he has it. The victory isn't as sweet as he once thought. In fact, the whole thing left a bitter taste on his tongue.
"Contain you excitement, boy," Snape rolls his eyes. "A proper ceremony will be held tomorrow. You'll know first, for such a title entails certain responsiblies. Remain the top of all your classes. Should be an easy feat with Granger's absence."
Granger... is gone? A certain Wealsey is missing as well. Also, unsurprisingly, Riddle was nowhere to be seen. No doubt, they are by Potter's side.
But what do they plan to do? The Dark Lord at the height of his power and Hogwarts is... is...
Wait...
"I-I... I thought I heard something in... in t-the walls," the trembling first-year Gryffindor stutters.
Deep within the walls of Hogwarts. Matching back then in his fourth year. Back when Potter created an army. This new rising army, Riddle's insightful expertise, and Potter, impossibly stubborn, insufferably brave, embodiement of Gryffindor, Potter. Then they could actually--
A peircing, invasive force overtakes his very thoughts, attempting to peel back the layers of his mind. Draco snarls with deep growl. Suddenly, fear echoes his chest, twisting his heart against his will. Draco's thoughts are consumed by dreadful horrors. Tortured screaming and begging, piles of rotten corpses, the Malfoy family on the brink of oblivion. There, Lord Voldemort's cold, skeletal hands gripping around his parent's throats. A smile flashes on his face. Death is only escape...
No!
With every fiber of his consciousness, he expells the intruder from his thoughts. Draco desperately claws his way back to complete control of his memories, his emotions, his mental landscape. His Occlumency is much more powerful. Snape will not violate his thoughts.
Not now.
Not ever!
Draco gasps, and sweat drips down his neck. He pants clinging to the back wall.
"You know something," Snape states calmly but irriatingly certain.
"S-sod off."
Snape's eye twitches, "You're acting as an impudent child. Have you forgotten the vow I swore to your terrified mother? It is my duty to protect you from--"
"From what? The Dark Lord? Isn't his rise to power what you wanted? Shouldn't we be celebrating? So what is there to fear?!" Draco's fist turns white as he snaps back.
Snape's gaze hardens, his eyes narrow oddly... Like he is calculating, like he knows something. "Indeed..." he murmurs. His eyes lock into Draco's platinum ones. "Tell me, Draco, what is there to fear?"
Draco's breath returns to a steady pace. His eyes sharper than before.
"There is nothing."
"LET'S GO!"
Harry yells, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling Ron's arm. He leaps onto Tom, wrapping his legs securely around his waist, forcing Tom backward. All together, they Apparate from the Ministry of Magic.
Hermione screams, causing the magic field to burst. The darkness surrounds them, suffocating everything in it path.
Bloody hell!
Even if it means shattering every one of his bones, Harry won't let go of anyone!
Shockwaves travel through them, hurling his heart to his stomach. The world spins as they fling out, landing piles leaves and twigs.
"Ugh..." Harry winces, noticing a chain, the reason they're there the first place, he quickly grabs it. "Is everyone--"
"Ron!" Hermione yells, ripping off his sleeve drench in blood. "He's been Splinched! Harry, quickly, my bag! I need--"
"Accio Dittany!"
A small bottle flies out of her bag and straight to Tom. He opens the cork and pushes Hermione aside, pouring three drops of the potion onto Ron's wound. The bloods and dries and Ron's new skin snitches over the old open wound. Once Ron is somewhat stable, Tom pushes him back into Hermione's arms. He scans their surroundings, a scowl plasters on his face.
"This isn't Grimmauld Place."
Hermione shakes her head, "We were there. We were. Then Yaxley had hold of me. I couldn't get rid of him. He saw us, and now we can't go back. Because of me, Ron got Splinched! I'm sorry!"
"Herminone, don’t be stupid. This isn't your fault."
"Ha... He called you stupid."
"Ron?!" Hermione gasps.
Ron shifts upward, but hisses in pain. He looks around the dense trees. "A bloody forest? D'you reckon we should move on?" He asks weakly.
"No," Hermione flicks his forehead, "You are in no condition to move."
"She's right," Harry nods.
"Of course she is," Ron rolls his eyes with a pained smile.
"Asinine," Tom scoffs loudly, "You do realize remaining still will rise the chances of us being captured. Weasley, get up..." His fiancé words die in his throat. Harry didn't hesitate to glare him into obilvion. Tom's lips press into a thin Iine, only opening to let out a resigned sigh.
"Fine."
Tom seizes Ron's wand and murmurs, "Salvio Hexia. Protego Totalum. Repello Muggletum. Muffliato."
Wisps of protective enchantments steep around them as Tom hides their location. He shoos Hermione. In a huff, she returns her attention to Ron gently, laying his head down. She retrieves her wand and casts a spell to assemble an enormous tent. Harry then hoists Ron's arm over his shoulder, half carries and half drags, him inside.
The interior of the tent isn't the Great Hall, but it's much more spacious than any tent Harry has been in. Hermione's head perks at their footsteps. She flicks her wand, and four cots hover down. Harry tries to lay Ron on the closest cot. But as he bends down the chain slips out. Harry tries to catch it, and it tangles around his engagement ring instead.
"Ron, sorry, but can you grab that?"
"Is this..." Ron gasps. Hermione rushes over to place him on the bed. Ron holds up the locket.
The Slytherin's Locket.
It's the size of a chicken's egg with letter S etched deep inside. There on its gem, inlaids, small green stones.
"This is one of them, isn't it? A Horcrux..." Ron says numbly.
Harry stands next to him, "Yeah..."
"You suppose we got lucky? Maybe it's already destroyed?”
“I think don't so,” Hermione replies, leaning closer at Ron's hand to examine the locket. “There’d be some sign of damage if it had been. Here, look.” she prys the locket from Ron and hands it to Harry.
Unlike the ring or the diary, the locket looks prisitine... so perfect. If the Horcrux was destroyed, they would definitely know. Harry turns the locket at a different angle. The metal rim shines, revealing strange engravings. The scribble shapes are odd, but the way they flow...
It looks so...
Harry squints his eyes and whispers the markings, "Ope--"
"Ah, ah, darling," Tom slurs, his hand covering his mouth, "No Parseltongue."
"Tmmph!" Harry mumbles in suprise.
Tom removes his palm, sensually sliding down his thumb against Harry's lips. "Perhaps we should devise a method to eliminate the Horcrux before releasing it."
Harry rolls his eyes. He has a point. As of now, they know the Horcrux is inside the Slytherin's Locket. Just like the Chamber of Secrets, Parseltongue is the key to destroying it. But unlike the diary, it's heavy, warm, somehow pulsing...
“You feel it too, don't you?” Ron's voice snaps Harry from his thoughts. "It, like, leeches on. Makes you feel... darker. It's alive, and it's like pulling down..."
Hermione frowns, taking the locket from Harry's grasp. "We ought not to wear it. Here, just keep it in the tent.”
"What? No!" Harry shouts yanking the locket back. "We can't let it out of our sights! What if we lose it? What if it gets stolen? What if--"
“Oh, all right!" Hermione exclaims, "We’ll take turns wearing it--”
"No need."
Tom grabs the locket from Harry's fingertips. He drapes it around his neck. It prominently rests against his chest.
"None of its effects can harm me."
"You can't be sure of that," Hermione shoots back, "Just think how the diary changed Ginny. Think what it could do to you."
"Well, Granger," Tom scoffs lightly, "Given my soul is an exact equivalent to its fractured 'master'; such Dark Magic wouldn't dare to go against me."
It could be true... After all, why would Voldemort create something self-destructive? However, Hermione's instincts are something Harry always relied on.
Harry steps closer and gently caresses Tom's cheek.
"Tom, answer me, honestly...." he keeps a steady gaze into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
The ex-Slytherin releases a soft sigh, "In truth, I am a bit battered from the botched Disappartition. Rather irriated from the desicion stay pliant like prey. Nonetheless, my most dominant emotion is..." Tom encircles his arm around Harry's waist, drawing him closer. Leaning down, he brushes his lips to Harry's ear and whispers in Parseltongue.
"Arousal."
That low voice filled with hunger. How his breath tickles against his ears. Harry failed to remain neutral at the rotten surpise attack.
"W-what? Right now? How? Why? You perverted bloody bastard!" Harry spits as deep flush crosses his cheeks.
"Only for you, darling."
"For Merlin's sake!" Ron groans, facepalming himself his his hood arm. "There are no walls. We are in the same bloody room!"
"Ah, r-right," Harry stifles his red embarrassment with a strain cough, shoving Tom away. “Just keep it safe till we work out how to destroy it. And if you feel anything strange, you better--"
Sharp jagged claws dig into Harry's skull. Crimson red bleeds, nauseating flashes spiral around him, and a choir of screams and laugher pound through his consciousness. Harry clenches his eyes shut, but still a vision asserts its way inside his mind. All the pain accumulates to his scar.
It burns.
No, no! He had to fight it! Remember, remember, what Tom told him during their Occlumency lessons.
Control.
Control!
Contro--
Voldemort's voice pierces through, "Tell me, Gregorovitch. Tell me where it is..."
Harry's vision morphs into a dense haze, with only a tunneled view of clarity at the center. It's like peering through a fogged-up window, but instead of water droplets, chaos surrounds him. That swirling mass of confusion could, would, drive him mad! Come on! Harry forces all his energy into the scene unfolding before him.
An elderly man, with pure white hair and a bushy beard, dangles upside down from the ceiling. The man's blood drips to his head, his cheeks turn purple.
"I-I told you... I no longer have it! It was stolen from me! Many years ago!"
"Ahh..." Voldemort sounds amused, "You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Gregorovitch? Because such an action will only make it worse for you..."
Suddenly, the small vision of clarity flips inside out, bursting the madness into a kaleidoscope of colors and scenes.
Concentrate!
Control!
Panic drips through Harry's veins and clogs his ariway. A shadow overtakes him. The scenes shift again.
There Gregorovitch bursts into a room, his lantern swings violently before crashing onto the ground, the ground of wooden shavings. The flames ignite, sending heat and fire throughout the room, revealing a figure by the window. A young man with golden hair, he grins wickedly.
A blast of light bleaches everything. Harry can't see anything anymore.
"Who was he? Who is the thief?" Voldemort growls.
That thief... Where has he seen him before?
"Harry!"
Harry is hurled back with such intensity his scar threatens to split open his head. Sandpaper jolts pulses through his body, like its grating his body into ash. Just then, a gentle sensation glides over Harry's scar, and all the agonizing pain fades. It transforms into something unexpectedly pleasant....
Warm.
Harry slowly opens his heavy eyelids. He's back inside the tent. Hermione and Ron gaze down, eyes full of concern, lying on the ground in Tom's arms.
"Ahh..." Harry exhales, finally relaxing. "Guess my Occlumency still needs work, huh?" He chuckles, but it quickly turns into violent coughs.
Tom's expression darkens, clearly not amused. He hoists Harry secure into his arms, carrying him to the furthest cot from Ron. Harry is gently laid down, and without hesitation, Tom squeezes himself onto narrow bed. They press together a bit too snugly, but Tom begins lightly caressing his scar.
It feels nice...
"Harry," Hermione calls out.
Ah, he almost got carried away. Tom mutters something under his breath. Did he just--
"It was him, wasn't it?" She continues, "Was it Vold--"
"Don't say his bloody name!" Ron growls, then hisses in pain. Hermione rush beside Ron and calms him down.
"Alright, fine. Harry, what did you see?"
Harry's attempt to sit up is stopped by Tom's hand on his chest. Bloody over-protective prat keeps on caressing his cheek. But... It's awfully comfortable... He supposes he can let his clingy fiancé be. Harry turns his head towards Hermione and Ron.
"Well... I saw through his eyes. Gregorovitch was there. He was tied up, being tortured for something..."
"Something?" Hermione presses.
"I don't exactly know what, alright, but whatever it was, it stolen from him years ago. Volde- erm... You-Know-Who was desperate to have it.
So desperate he used Legilimency to relive the night it was stolen. And the thief... The thief..."
The thief, the young golden haired thief. He looked so familiar. Harry knows he has seen him before. It was like a dream he couldn't place. His facial features are distorted, but he knows it somewhere. If only he could have another glimpse of his face, his laugh, his eyes.
Wait...
Those eyes...
"...A potion of perfect submission. A potion of unyielding obedience..."
He pours the liquid into a chalice.
"...to the first person they lay eyes on."
Back with Draco, Harry drank the poition. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was...
Harry sits up quickly, "I know who the thief is."
"What? Who?" Ron asks.
"Grindelward."
Hermione gasps, her eyes wide with disbelief as Ron's jaw drops. She shakes her head, "The previous... Harry, are you sure?"
"I am. He has what You-Know-Who wants. We just need to find out what it is--" Tom yanks him into his embrace, his hands wrap securely around Harry's waist.
Harry pushes him back and gazes into his eyes. "What was that for?"
Suddenly, Tom's feather light touches halt, a frown plasters across his lips, and dejection fills his eyes. He seems completely attentive, like this is the first time he's listening to anything Harry had said.
"Is it unpleasant?"
"What? No, well, not really. It's actually quite soothing, but did you hear anythi--"
"Harry," Tom presses their foreheads together. His scar sings as a wave of heat ignites inside Harry's core. He could feel their minds slowly drift into the sea of passion. "Rest," Tom slurs. The last sensation that lingers is the outline of the locket pressed against his chest.
To remain in a singular area for extended periods is a death sentence. Oh, how this voyage became so tiresome. Thus, the intense summer's heat cripples into the oppressive winter. Though the external elements had no impact on Tom, by courtesy of the Slytherin's Locket, it did, however, take a toll on his beloved. Harry requires more warmth, more norishments, more intimacy, and more protection. The journey has proven far from fruitful. Beginning with an inept Apparition user resulting in lack of supplies and an injured burden. Such an escalation of tensions threatens Harry. All stemming from those ungrateful... Friendssss.
From the moment they begun, one has pathetically useless. Splinching his arm, delaying their travels, and wasting their reasouces. Weasley's strident complaints soon became silent, grumbling of resentment. Moments of peace only came as he gluttonously inhaled Harry's potential meals or distrubing Harry's rest throughout the night like a filthy hog. Weasley mades no relevant contriburions. How absolutely... worthlessss.
However, the other is much more of a nusiance.
Since the moment Tom tended Harry from Voldemort invasive intrusion, Granger dared to rip him from his arms. Weeks followed as Tom offered certain stress alleviating methods, which Harry so uncharacteristically rebuffed. In due to Granger's influence. Deliberately denying any opportunities for Tom to be alone with his fiancé, indicating he had become a deviant. Had Tom not already established his commitment through the Unbreakable Vows? So many hinderances separating them.
Only in the dead of night, when Granger is on patrol and Weasley asleep, Tom could diligantly guard over his beloved fiancé's sleeping figure. He slips his Slytherin locket around supple neck and invisioning their future after he rids of the repugnant inferior Tom Marvolo Riddle.
How dare that vile creature penerate his mind. How dare he harm a strand of his head. Oh, how he shall take pleasure in obliterating Voldemort from existence. Harry's safety is only secured with him. He no longer shall tethered to Voldemort, nor require the likes of Granger or Weasley. He doesn't need anyone else.
He only needssss him.
On the far side of the tent, Harry stands unbearably close besides the wretched Granger. Harry's diligant fingers dismantle the roots from the fresh herbs.
"Dear Merlin..." Granger drops the bowl of mushrooms like a clumsy oaf.
"What?" Harry's velvet honey voice drips.
"The Sword of Gryffindor... It's Goblin made, isn't it?"
Tom rolls his eyes and scoffs, "Obviously."
Her eyes narrow, but she ignores his comment. "Harry. Dirt and rust have no effect on the blade. It only takes in that which makes it stronger. In the Chamber of Secrets, you destroyed the diary, didn't you?"
"Yes, but it was the Basilisk's fang, not the Sword of Gryffindor," Harry slowly bends over, his wonderful arse in view, as he picks up the fallen bowl "I used the sword to kill Basilisk."
"Exactly," she irkingly grins, "And that very same Basilisk's vemon is embedded into the blade!"
"'It only takes in that which makes it stronger...'" Harry repeats, his beautiful emerald green eyes light in realization. "It can destroy Horcruxes."
Desssstory Horcruxessss?
Ssssuch a sssshame.
Much so...
The locket tightens close to his chest. The Slytherin Locket... How dreadful the artifacts were following the Horcruxes destruction. His counterpart's diary was stained and punctured. This timeline's gaunt ring was completely battered. The Slytherin Locket is a relic belonging to one of the Founder's of Hogwarts, his Slytherin ancestors. Would it not be disrespectful to dispose of them so, so callously? Thus, he should investigate a method to transfer Horcruxes into another vessel to allow Hogwart's treasures to be cherished for generations.
"Great, another hunt," Weasley says dismissively.
Tom's attention re-engages with the conversation unfolding before him.
"What?"
Ah... Harry's brows crease so intoxicatingly.
"Go on, Ron, spit it out."
"Fine. How do supppse we get said sword? Oh, that's right, we can't, because it's been stolen!" Weasley shakes his head in a feeable attempt to calm himself. "We are looking for Horcruxes, some stolen bloody trinket, and now the Sword of Gryffindor? Harry, my arm mangled, there's nothing to eat, and we are freezing every night. I reckoned Dumbledore knew what he was doing, but he didn't. Now we are here, weeks on end, running round, and achieving nothing.”
"What are you saying?" Harry's voice dips into the fantasic snarl of firey rage, "Are you saying we just give up and let him win?"
"No! What I'm saying is what hell happened to having a bloody plan?! We can't keep going like this, I can't keep going like this!"
"Ron," Granger says in a weak, quiet voice.
"I thought you knew what you’d signed up for," Harry steps closer.
"Yeah..." Weasley sighs, hovering his hand over his injured forearm, "I thought I did too.”
"Ron, think," Harry steps closer, "We already have a Horcrux. We know how to destroy them now. We sacrificed too much to just quit! Think of what he could, what he will, to everyone if we don't stop him! Don't you see your family is--"
"Don't!" Weasley snaps, slapping Harry's hand away.
That imbecile....
"Don't act like you know how it feels! How dreadful it is not knowing if Mum, Dad, Ginny-- If anyone is still alive or dead!"
"You don't think I get it? Of course, I do--"
"HOW COULD YOU KNOW?! YOUR PARENTS ARE ALREADY DEAD!!!"
"Ron!" Granger shrieks like a banshee.
Weasley's eyes widen, and he immiendatly recoils, "No, Harry, I-I didn't mean--"
A dark chuckle escapes Harry's supple lips, but its laughter does reach his eye. His beloved fiancé's fist clenth bright white, his whole body trembles.
Ah...
Harry's breaking point.
"Fine then. If that's how you feel. The door is over there."
"W-what?" Weasley's voice cracks.
Granger's grimy hand attempts to grasp his fiancé.
"Harry, he didn't--"
Tom grips her scarf and shoves her to the side, then condescendingly gazing down at Weasley. "Protection from all physical, emotional, and mental harm, was it? So I shall do my due diligant."
"What?! I'm wasn't hurting-- I didn't--"
Tom scoffs, "Spare your breath. From the very beginning, you have been nothing but wasting resources. A splinched arm, consuming all our healing potions, and a dwindling food supply as you appeal for your mother's dishes. Well, such a golden opportunity as presented itself. Go on and run home to mummy."
"Shut up, MarGaunt- Gaunt-- Riddle, whatever the hell your name is! You don't care about us, or what You-Know-Who will do to anyone else! You just want to shag Harry every second of the day! I'd bet you are the reason we can't find other the Horcruxes!"
How irrational.
How prepossssteroussss.
"Such a pity," Tom slurs, "Despite all your privileges, you remain utterly ignorant."
"What did you say?" Ron steps into his personal space.
Somehow, the weight of the Slytherin's locket tenses around his neck. "Let's review, shall we? You were born into a lovely pure-blood family, yet you remain a subpar wizard. It is wonder your mother prefers Harry as her son. You are nothing but a failure."
Weasley's complexion dips the same hue as his greasy locks. "Take that back, or I'll make you."
"Stop it, both of you!" she screams in distress, desperately trying to restore pathetic peace.
Although seething, Harry places a hand firmly on Tom's arm, inisiting he lowers his stance. "Tom..." his beloved whsipers, "That's enough. He is already injured. Don't hurt him more."
Harry's off statement strikes a nerve within Weasley's wounded pride. "Hurt me?! What's he gonna do?! He doesn't even have a wand!" He shouts, directing his wand to Tom's throat.
Tom exhales boredly, "Would you care to find out?"
Weasley, predictably, takes the bait.
"Confr--"
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry waves his wand. He directs the spell not at Weasley's wand but at his splinched arm. He yelps in pain, stumbling backward, triping over the cot, and crashing towards the ground.
Harry...
"Ron!!!" Granger shrieks, rushing to his aid.
Light drizzles patter against the top of the tent as Weasley winces in pain. From the maggot's view, Tom gleefully gazes to Harry, who, in return, adverts his eyes. Weasley clenches his fist and trembles. He shoots a piercing glare at Harry.
"Bloody bastard. I don't need this!" He stumbles, attemping to hoist himself upwards, causing Granger to steady him. "Go ahead and flail around like headless chicken! See if I care!" Weasley hastily collects his belongings. "Come on, Herimone. Let's go."
Weasley finally assembles what sparce items he had and approaches the exit. He halts in his tracks, realizing Granger hasn't moved.
The heavy downpour of rain hits against the top of the tent.
"Hermione?"
Anguish spread across her face as she shifts between Harry and Weasley. Then her gaze casts upon him, and her demeanor stales. Her eyes narrow with intensity at his locket--
"Ron," Granger shakes her head, "We can't leave Harry with--"
"Oh, ho! I see how it is. Fine, I'll get out of here!" Weasley burst out into the storm, carelessly disgreding the tent's flap. Rain droplets scatter inside.
"Ron! Wait!" Granger shouts after him.
Tom inwardly smirks. Finally he had rid Harry of the two. Now, he shall thoroughly comfort his distressed fiancé. Now, he shall be able to keep him protected. Tom slowly approaches the distressed Harry, sliding his arms around his tempting waist.
Ashamed of his own actions, Harry frowns and dares to manveaur from his grasp.
He unaudibly clicks his tongue and softly murmurs, "I'm cold."
He lies.
The locket was quite beneficial in that regard.
"Then use a warming spell," Harry retorts sharply.
"Darling..." Tom's hand caresses his cheek, "Please?"
Harry sighs in exhaustion, guilt flushing his cheeks after the ordeal with Weasley. His body slumps against Tom's in defeat.
"I shouldn't have--"
Tent's entrance burst open, a swift wave of wind and rain rushing inside.
"Ron?"
Instantly, Harry's warmth dissipates from Tom's touch. He runs forward only to find a drenched Granger. He swiftly places a towel top her head and gently pat down her dripping, frizzy hair. Tom's eyes twitch from his kind, intimate gesture.
"Ron's gone," she patethically replies.
Tch. Tom bites his inner flesh. The locket weighs heavier.
She ought to have gone with the gluttonous redhead.
But...
Not to worry.
The Mudblood sssshall vanissssh ssssoon enough.
Then Harry Potter, hissss Harry, sssshall ultimately be ssssafe under hissss protection. No threatssss sssshall harm him. Not thesssse extrassss, not even Lord Voldemort.
After all, if only Tom remainssss of Harry's world, he would become hissss everything.
Notes:
Draco's passiveness will assist some and hurt others. But, soon he will have to make a choice and live with his decisions.
Tom likes it when Harry wears the Slytherin's Locket and his engagement ring together. So the Horcrux still does linger in Harry, but not in Ron or Hermione.
Next Chapter:
Voldemort's Horcrux amplifies Tom's obsession with protecting Harry, so he must destory it before Tom goes too far.
Minor edit: Harry Expelliarmus Ron, not Tom.
Chapter 25: And Above All Else
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Snowdrifts pile high, covering the land with thick white sheets. The cold air rips through clothes into the bones without even trying. Even so, they have to keep moving. They have to destroy the Horcruxes. But how in the bloody hell are they supposed to?
Ron was right.
Dumbledore left nothing. Complete and utter nothing! No way to destroy the Horcrux they had, and no way to find the others!
And now, they're one member down.
Harry never should've let Ron go on his own. Why, why didn't he just listen? They could have worked things out! Why is he so, so... Harry can't explain it, but recently, his blood has been boiling. His body is heavy with dread, and even small inconveniences make him feral.
His nights aren't peaceful either. When he slept, everything was uncomfortable, like a pressure against his chest.
Almost like now...
Harry exhales, struggling to open his eyelids. He shifts to his left side only to have another pressed against his body. His eyes clear, revealing a burgundy jacket paired with a charcoal shirt and faded black jeans on his cot.
Again.
Tom has been awfully clingy, insisting it's for his "own protection." Since when did he, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, ever need constant pampering? He's faced Voldemort before, and he will have to do it again.
Hermione isn't any better. Honestly, since Ron left, Harry and Hermione hardly spoke to each other. Her constant nagging about some nonsense is unbearable. Every time Harry would vent his frustrations to Tom, the conversations blurred. A numbing wave washes over Harry, leaving him content but confused. Whatever is going on, it stops now.
"Let me go."
Instead of releasing him, Tom's hand snakes underneath Harry's shirt and plays with his engagement ring. A gentle touch rubs his chest.
Harry gasps, "S-stop!"
But... Tom's hand does feel good.
Tom tilts his chin back until their eyes meet. A subtle smirk over his perfect features, oozing out dark passion.
"Such an expression..." he nuzzles down, "...contradicts your words."
"Don't be an idiot!" Harry snaps back. His anger is lost in another moan. "This isn't the time to--"
Tom's breath tickles Harry's ear as he scoffs, "Months of restraint... Whilst you are so... tantalizing. Allow me to indulge." He murmurs a quiet "Accio" with a smile creeping onto his face. It never reaches his eyes.
Harry inhales sharply as Tom's warmth disappears. Tom lowly chuckles and places his hand back on Harry's body. He hovers over him like a predator to his prey.
"Wait--"
Tom's lips are on his.
His tongue inside, exploring wet caverns of Harry's mouth.
Merlin... It's been a while since they kissed. It's been a while since Harry felt this addicting pleasure.
A small foreign object brushes against his tongue.
Sour, no, sweet?
This texture...
It's...
A lemon sherbet?
The thought is quickly forgotten as their tongues battle for dominance.
Eventually, the hard candy melts into nothingness, and, unfortunately, oxygen is needed to breathe. When they separate, only a sticky trail of saliva connects them.
Tom licks his lips, presenting a small, leather-bound bag. "A satisfying treat, darling? I suppose it's a fair consolation to Dumbledore's will," Tom hisses, returning to assault Harry's neck with hickeys and bites.
Harry covers Tom's mouth. "You had these all this time..." He says barely above a whisper, snatching the bag. "You said nothing when you knew Ron was starv--"
Tom clicks his tongue. "The oaf was perpetually starved. Had he known, he would have devoured them on the first night. No, no, darling..." Tom licks Harry's lips. "This matter remains between us."
Harry growls, throwing the hard candies across the room. He pushes against his fiancé's chest until a faint object presses beneath Tom's Muggle charcoal shirt.
The...
The Slytherin Locket.
The host containing Voldemort's fragmented soul.
If it's anything like the diary, then Tom would-- No, wait, if Tom was controlled, he would have done something by now.
One of Ron's final words echoes, "I'd bet you are the reason we can't find the other Horcruxes!"
It's impossible... The Horcrux won't go against Tom. But...
"Take it off."
Tom's lips curl into an alluring smirk. "My, my..." He presses his erection to Harry's groin. "A bold invitation."
"This!" Harry yanks the locket out of his shirt. "Take it off!"
"Now, now..." Tom's hands intertwine with Harry's. The locket slips down, dangling in front of Harry's face. "You are troubling yourself over such a trivial matter. This Horcrux is secure and shall be extracted soon enough."
"Extracted? Tom, are you out of your mind?! It has to be destroyed, along with the rest of them!"
He chuckles humorlessly, fingers stroking his cheek. "To obliterate one of Hogwarts' most significant relics," the Slytherin's locket dangles over Harry. "It is an atrocious conclusion." His hands slide towards Harry's neck, cutting off air from his lips.
"How delicate..." Tom's grip tightens. "Do not fret, darling, for every Horcrux shall be retrieved and returned to that detestable creature. Once so, we'll take great pleasure in eliminating him."
This tone.
His voice.
It's sweet like honey. However, it isn't the same as the charming manipulations he used back in 1942. It is different. It's maddeningly calm and collected. It's as if Tom believes every unhinged word he utters. It's like--
A rush of warmth and pleasure floods through Harry's veins as Tom's forehead presses against his scar. All his anxieties and doubts numb, and his mind numbs. Such a comforting sensation... The warmth envelops his yearning soul.
Merlin, it feels good.
Harry's shoulders relax, and he sinks into the cot. Tom's weight is anchoring him in place. Throughout these days of madness and a spiraling of chaos, calmness washes through him. Only to be shattered by a surge of unbearable...
Arousal.
Harry needs him. He needs Tom--
"Harry?"
From his hazy vision, Harry shifts to the left. Only to find Hermione standing at the tent's entrance.
"...Hermione?" Harry mutters. His eyes snap open, and he shoves Tom away. "Patrol! It's my turn, isn't it?" He snatches his shoes to sprint outside.
"Wait!" She exclaims a bit too loudly.
Harry blinks, not missing the way Tom's eyes darken. Apparently, Hermione didn't either. She fumbles awkwardly, opening her mouth to speak but closing it again. Her eyes shift to the floor, and she hastily grabs random objects from the ground.
"Ah, it's not here. I must have forgotten my wand. Outside." She shuffles out.
Harry squints but slips on his winter coat. "Okay? Then I--"
Tom seizes Harry's arm with an iron grip.
"Tom," Harry says warily, "let me..."
Wait, there's no way he'll listen that easily.
Harry pulls back, but he forces his breath to remain somewhat neutral. He bites his lips. He has to play this smart. Harry exhales lightly and leans down to Tom. His left hand motions over, displaying his engagement ring. Harry cups Tom's chin, with their foreheads barely brushing together. The lemon scent lingers between them.
"I'll be back soon, darling..." Harry slurs in Parseltongue. Hopefully, it's enough to appease Tom.
Tom loosens his hold with a satisfied expression. "I shall not wait long."
Harry nods obediently and casually leaves the tent. As soon as the flaps of the entrance cover Tom's view, Harry sighs.
A hand grabs Harry. He instinctively pulls out his wand.
"Bloody hell, Hermione! I thought you were a Death Eater!"
"I said I was going outside, didn't I?" She replies dryly; her face remains stoic.
Harry clears his throat and scratches the back of his head. When was the last time they spoke face-to-face?
"Erm, right... Listen, about before... It's just been a while since Tom, well, we--"
Hermione shakes her head, her cold hands latching onto his shoulders, dropping the random items she picked up. A stern concern is etched on her face.
"The Horcrux is affecting you too."
"Pardon?" Harry steps back, brows furrowed.
"Harry... Riddle is, he's, unhinged! Every time you start questioning or protesting, he goes for your scar. It's hard for me to even speak with you! And it's getting worse, like the other night!"
"The other night?" Harry tries to remember, but he just can't. "Hermione, what happened?"
Hermione sighs, letting Harry go. "You've been avoiding me, and Riddle has been taking advantage of that. The other night, he probably didn't see me walk in... or maybe he wanted me to see. While you were sleeping, he placed the locket around your neck. Then he stood there and watched you struggle in your sleep, tracing your scar. It didn't seem like his first time either."
All those times when the days blurred together, those times when Harry couldn't get a good rest, and that heavy sense of dread.
Harry sighs in relief, "That explains it..." Clearly not the reaction Hermione was expecting. He shakes his head. "Hermione, you saw it, what I did to Ron. All because of my anger, all because of that stupid locket! It somehow feeds off of, latches on to darker emotions, or something..." Harry freezes as the cold air rips through him. "So, why isn't it affecting Tom?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Harry!" Hermione shouts, "You can't be serious! The Horcrux is clearly affecting him!"
"But not in the same way!" Harry snaps back. "He has been clingier, yes, but not aggressive!"
"Really, now? I suppose I must have been imagining all those times he wanted to be rid of me!"
"Well, then what?!" Harry shouts, gripping at his roots. "Hermione, my mind is all over the place. Is it from the Horcrux or Tom? I don't know anymore! I feel like I can’t even trust my own thoughts! I know we have to get rid of it, but how the bloody hell are we supposed to?!"
Hermione stops and exhales, "Harry..."
She places her hand on his shoulder, looking off into the distance.
"It’s not far from here..."
Harry frowns but looks in the general direction. All he could see were dark gray clouds and snow covering the tops of the trees.
Hermione shifts her eyes to him but looks back down. "It's risky. But... the founder of Gryffindor, he made the sword. It's nearby... so maybe, maybe it could be there. Inside Godric's Hollow."
"Godric’s Hollow..." Harry lowly repeats.
He's almost home.
A place his parents felt a connection to. A life he'll never experience because his parents sacrifice their own for him. Voldemort took away everything. Now, on the very ground, he slaughtered Harry's parents, could lie the item of his destruction.
Harry closes his eyes and exhales. The warmth from his breath creates a mist through the icy air.
"Don't tell Tom."
"What?" Hermione chokes on her breath. "Harry, are you mad? You do suppose we leave him here to twiddle his thumbs? You said it yourself, he’s clingy, borderline obsessed! There’s no way he'd let us go without him!"
Harry curses under his breath.
She's right.
Tom would follow them, and if they find the sword, he won't let it anywhere near the locket.
Harry huffs, glancing once again at the sky, then towards the ground. Sunken in the snow are the random items Hermione took from inside: a Muggle cookbook, someone's left shoe, and a bag. A certain bag he had thrown across the room earlier.
The bag of lemon sherbets.
"I know that look." Hermione exhales with a hint of worry and relief. "It can only mean... You've thought of something, haven't you?"
Harry huffs warmth into his hands and smiles.
Harry Potter issssn't sssafe.
Not with Voldemort sssstill alive.
Not with hissss pathetic friendsss.
No...
Only one capable of protecting him issss...
A substantial weight presses against Tom's waist. A familiar, alluring scent fills his nostrils. He opens his eyes and sees his glorious fiancée illuminated by the snowy dawn's light. The tantalizing Harry nestles his nose against the crook of Tom's neck, then soft, warm lips return to their rightful place.
"Hello, darling," Harry slurs in Parseltongue.
"My, my," Tom chuckles at the audacity of his little Gryffindor. "What prompted such a delightful greeting?"
"Sorry about last night. I was... frustrated." Harry's brilliant emerald eyes shift left as he pushes the Slytherin's Locket to lie on Tom's chest. "Hermione left to get supplies from some Muggle market. So, we have a couple of hours to enjoy ourselves."
"How... lovely..."
Tom grips the back of Harry's hair, forcing him into a passionate kiss. Tom savors, no, consumes Harry's divine taste. How fortunate destiny favored him, how fortunate their souls are intertwined. Past time and past death. Harry Potter belongs to him.
Sweet moans escape Harry's lips as Tom shifts his left hand from Harry's lower back to his rotund arse. His hands rasp past his fiancé's waistband, a lubrication spell at the tip of Tom's lips.
"Wait!" Harry exclaims, retracting from Tom's grasp.
His face contorts in disbelief. Tom is at the end of his wits, on the verge of pinning Harry down and thrusting deep inside. How could he resist, even now, when Harry appears so delectable and luscious?
"Darling..." Tom whispers dangerously, "How cruel to neglect what you, yourself, initiated."
"I-I..." Harry stammers; he blinks, and his eyes take on a siren-like quality.
So alluring.
So mischievous.
Harry repositions himself, directly placing his arse on Tom's groin. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a lemon sherbet.
Harry unravels the treat, carefully placing it in between his teeth. He slyly grins and leans in to kiss Tom. Such a display of passion, matching what Tom had done to Harry the previous night.
Lemon sherbet slides into Tom's mouth.
Sweet.
Tart.
Infused with Harry's distinct, exquisite aroma.
Harry places his left hand on Tom's chest; the light reflects from their engagement ring.
"Let's play a little game," Harry impishly grins. "Until the last of the lemon sherbet is gone..." he pokes Tom's nose, "you aren't allowed to move."
"Well, well..." Tom replies with a hum, "How brashly idiotic--Gryffindor."
To indulge in Harry's cruel request sounds... delightful. Tom, himself, lies plaint as his alluring fiancé withers and moans, pleasuring himself with the use of Tom's body. Thus, relinquishing sovereignty until the last bit of lemon sherbet melts is a tantalizing form of torture. However...
Despite being sorted into Gryffindor in this timeline, Tom's blood is a Slytherin.
He endured long enough.
An explosion of sweetness and tartness dances on Tom's tongue. As he pulverizes the lemon sherbet into shattered fractures, swallowing all the remains. Tom inverts their positions, pinning Harry down on the cot.
His beloved fiancée beneath his arms is a sight to behold. Tom smirks, revealing none of the sherbet remains. He leans down, his breath caresses against Harry's sensitive skin. Then, filled with lust, Tom whispers...
"My turn."
Tom encircles his arm around Harry's waist, drawing him closer. His hand contours around Harry's nipple, and his hand returns back under Harry's waistband. The locket tightens around Tom's chest, exuding pure desire and carnal lust.
Harry gasps at the pressures.
Tom smirks, "Shhh... We have merely begun."
Yessss....
Harry is Tom's to possess, to adore, to claim. The Boy Who Lived has lived in order to become entirely his. Everyone else is utterly insignificant.
Tom kisses Harry, exploring the depths of his fiancé's mouth.
Ah, the succulent taste of his beloved Harry Potter, so delicate, so refined... With the lingering sweetness and tartness of the lemon sherbet.
Odd...
A strange bitterness creeps beneath the surface of Tom's palate.
The taste of a...
Sleeping Draught.
"Harry, you..." Tom hisses, struggling to keep his eyelids open. "You naughty, naughty boy..."
Tom slumps on Harry's shoulder as the laced lemon sherbet takes hold.
Tom feels the sensation of Harry's breath, exhaling from relief.
"I'm sorry, Tom," he whispers.
He then mumbles a spell, and Tom is gently placed on the cot. His naughty fiancé lovingly puts a blanket over his limp body. Tom barely registers Harry's kiss on his forehead. In a feeble attempt to capture his beloved, his hand settles on the Slytherin's Locket. In the last moments of consciousness, he captures Harry's final words.
"Hermione, let's go."
A haze of indistinct pulsing emanates from the Slytherin's Locket. It creeps onto Tom, coursing rage through his veins. The effects of the Sleeping Draught release are in full effect. His soul expands and throbs into a deep slumber.
Harry.
Harry...
Why does his beloved intend to flee from his arms?
Does he not comprehend the threats that one, such as Voldemort possesses?
It's that rotten Mudblood'ssss fault.
Ah, of course...
This is Granger's doing. The wretched Muggleborn has led his precious Harry astray.
How repulssssive.
Numerous factors threaten to sever their bond. Such as Voldemort's abhorrent inconveniences. Tom shall annihilate that inferior counterpart until he is nothing more than a crude speck in history. Then...
Tom shall rise to power.
Perhaps his first order is to research a way to transfigure Harry's abdomen into a womb and finally provide them both with the family they so rightfully deserve. Then he shall devote himself entirely to Harry's needs. Cherishing his beloved fiancé, his beloved husband, for the rest of eternity.
Ah, eternity...
An apparent method to attain.
An act of murder is the catalyst for a Horcrux creation. However, Tom doesn't intend to stain his bond with Harry with such distasteful tactics. No, the Horcruxes need not be demolished, but... repurposed.
Once Voldemort's soul is wretchedly frail, Tom shall surpass him and become the Horcruxes true master. He and Harry shall dwell throughout eons as the most prominent of wizarding lovers.
Granger, Weasley, Malfoy?
All others in Harry's life are absolute rubbish.
For what purpose could anyone else serve when Harry already has him?
Harry Potter is hissss.
Tom growls, drawing his inner magic core towards his consciousness. Tom claws amidst the effects of the potion. The Sleeping Draught pales before sheer determination and perhaps the aid of the Locket's influence.
Tom chants in Parseltongue, forcing himself to awaken.
Abruptly, his eyes snap open. The tent's interior is shrouded in darkness. Nightfall has fully consumed the earth.
The blasted potion...
Tom rises from the cot, his fists clenched tightly.
Oh, the audacity of his fiancé. A thorough punishment is in order...
An abrupt, deafening crash shakes the tent's foundation. Then Granger's shrilling voice shrieks out Harry's name.
Tom tears open the tent. Sheets of thick snow pile high, but crimson red disperses through, contrasting against the blinding white snow. Sunken deep within the icy cold, Granger's existence obstructs Harry.
Tom blasts Granger out of his way as her limp vessel crashes against a tree. He kneels in the snow, cradling Harry close to his chest.
Shards of glass embedded themselves inside Harry's flawless skin. His leg is contorted in an unnatural angle, bruising maroon. The worst yet...
Harry's forearm.
Mangled and gushing with warm blood. A wound tears his flesh, resembling that of a serpent's bite. However, not simply any bite... Those fang placements are ones Tom was familiar with...
Nagini's bite.
"You..." Tom bellows, hoisting Harry into his arms, and returns towards the tent. Tom places Harry onto a cot, administering several healing potions to Harry's wounds. He curses.
As they enter this timeline, Tom has seen Harry on the verge of death, and never shall he witness it again.
Harry's breaths were non-existent, and his body was ghastly pale. Their connection, their bond, Harry's warmth, was fading. Blood gushed out from Harry's hand. His once pristine body becomes a deep crimson. More blood leaked from stab wounds in Harry's torso.
The moment when he wiped the blood from Harry's lip, brushing his bangs from his forehead. Only to feel nothing.
Such loss, such vulnerability, is torment far worse than death. All of Harry's anguish slowly morph into a deplorable future. One Tom vows they shall never encounter.
In fact, he vowed so much more.
Yet time and time again, danger and death cling to Harry. Harry fails to see what is in his best interest. Tom needs to guide him, it's his duty to become Harry's protector, his everything.
And... there is only one way to ensure Harry's safety.
As the wounds gradually lessen, Tom gently kisses the scar on Harry's forehead. The sensations from their bond surge within him.
"Ah, darling... Not to worry, my dear. You will feel no more pain. Ever..."
"Riddle...?" Granger staggers in, visibly injured, yet disturbed. "Let go of Harr--"
"Quiet," Tom growls, stroking Harry's hair.
Of course, such a Muggle-born struggles to follow even the simplest command.
She continues, "You can't let the Horcrux influence you. Take it off, and we can discuss this calmly. At Godric's Hollow we--"
"Crucio!"
Granger collapses to the ground, gasping and screaming in agony.
The locket around his neck tightens, and Tom sets Harry down. Tom's eyes glimmer with glee, watching as Granger writhes in pain.
She gasps and pleads, "The locket--stop! Please--, you aren't thinking. Granger screams, curling into the fetal position.
Tom scoffs dismissively, "Have you no shame? Harry's afflictions are your doing, and soon... You shall be nothing but an afterthought."
Granger starts to spasm, and the Slytherin's Locket around Tom's neck emits a gentle hum.
"Well, Granger, I have upheld the vows. I shall protect Harry from all physical, emotional, and mental harm... starting with you."
"You... aren't... doing... what's best... for Harry!" She shouts, squirming like a worm on the ground.
Tom rolls his eyes, striding towards Granger. "How insufferable. You shall regret it. Perhaps you would have been spared had you parted with the incompetence, Weas--"
"Confringo!" Granger shouts as Tom is hurled back into the empty cots. She then retreats from the tent, limping away.
"You, wretch bitc--"
"...Tom?" Harry's emerald eyes flicker open.
"Ah, ah, darling..." Tom hushes over, caressing Harry's cheek, "Be at ease, for your stresses shall soon be alleviated."
"What are you--"
Tom binds Harry to the cot and exits the tent as icy, harsh winds fail to penetrate through his skin. Such a power of the Slytherin's Locket regulating his body temperature from the elements. In the snow are imprints of footsteps leading deeper into the forest. Tom scoffs at Granger's cowardice.
Some Gryffindor.
A ghastly bright silver light weaves from the back of the treeline and soundlessly drifts toward the tent.
A Patronus?
Granger is trying to send a message to Harry.
No, sssshe intendssss to ssssteal him away.
Tom's aura darkens as he lowly growls. She won't have the chance. He mumbles a spell.
The snowfall halts in midair to unify the snowflakes in a line. The snow compresses together, forming an icicle. Tom's eyes narrow as the icicle pierces through several trees, causing a peculiar pattern of vapor to rise into the air.
"There."
Granger unleashes a barrage of feeble spells. However, just as her existence, her efforts are insufficient.
"Your excessive shrills grow irate. I shall tear out your tongue."
She shuts her mouth and retreats. However, she stumbles over a fallen log and pathetically fumbles her wand. Granger hastily attempts to retrieve her wand, but she slides deeper onto the crystal icy pond.
Tom strides forward, stomping on the frozen bay, forming cracks beneath his feet. A low rumble emanates from below the ice.
"S-stop!" Granger pathetically pleads, "Come closer, and we'll both fall and freeze!"
Tom dangles the locket from his chest, "We shall see."
Granger runs to the center of the bay in a feeble attempt to flee the cracks, to flee him. Tom casts a tripping jinx. She crashes onto the ice, thus creating more cracks, surrounding her like she is a pest in a spider's web. Granger looks about frantically, clinging to the false hope she could delay her demise. Finally, her gaze settles on the ice beneath her. Her eyes narrow at the water, which will soon consume her.
"No where left to run, Granger. This is the penalty for harming Harry."
Suddenly, Granger growls, raising her arms. She strikes the fractured ice and submerges completely into the icy water.
"Hermione, no!" A red-headed figure plunges in after her.
Weasley? Why has he returned? Where did he...
Sssso what?
Ah, quite so.
Both of Harry's nuisances will soon dissipate. Although Tom didn't dispose of them, no, it's their own faults that brought about their bitter end. His hands are innocence.
Tom dismisses them both, hissing as Granger's asinine stunt caused him to go into the knee-deep bay. The icy cold water has no influence on Tom. However, such wet garments could become rather uncomfortable for Harry's recovery.
He returns to the shoreline and retrieves Granger's wand on the ground.
"Vine wood?" he scoffs.
Now, it would be a shame if Harry wandered about and fell in such hazardous, frigid waters...
Tom raises up Granger's wand to freeze over the water's surface. However, by the ledge, Weasley emerges through the weakened ice. He hoists himself upwards, hauling Granger with him. In her hands, a hilt connected to a sword...
The Sword of Gryffindor.
"Impossible," Tom whispers in awe.
"G-give us the locket, Riddle!" Granger shudders as Ron clings next to her.
The Slytherin's Locket agitatedly pulses against Tom's chest. As if sensing the Sword of Gryffindor's presence. Granger and Weasley step closer towards him, and the locket shakes to a low vibration.
They intend to destroy the Horcrux, utterly failing to comprehend its power. For once, Tom surpasses his wretched counterpart. He shall become its true master and secure Harry's life!
Harry'ssss life. One of which he issss willing to ssssacrifice for... them.
"Expelliarmus!"
Weasley shoves Granger downwards as the sword still remains in her grasp.
"Tom!"
Harry limps towards him, collapsing into the powdered snow. Beautiful emerald eyes glaze with pain. However, after acknowledging Weasley's presence, his eyes bleed confusion. Finally, Harry's eyes settle on the Sword of Gryffindor and widen.
"That's--"
Harry's words fall short as he is suspended up into the air. Tom maneuvers Granger's wand in a circular motion, muttering an incantation. A hazy mist twists gracefully, securing Harry inside an enchanted, protected sphere. A starry dome that ensures Harry's safety.
Tom grins, admiring Harry like a phoenix in its golden cage. "Patience, darling, I shall be with you in but a moment."
Then wrath engulfs Tom's muscles, returning to Weasley and Granger, who dared to approach closer. Granger grasps the sword as Ron points his wand.
"See, the severity of Harry's state is by your wretched hands! Weasley, you insufferable imbecile, reveling in Harry's name to elevate your insignificant being! You have weakened and abandoned him! As for you, Granger, you have manipulated Harry's nature to flaunt your feeble self-righteous views. Your exploitation of my fiancé ends now. Fear not, Harry no longer has uses for you. He shall not face the Dark Lord alone! He has me! And only needs me!"
With each curse escaping his lips, Tom unleashes chaos.
"AUGHHH!!!"
Tom's assault halts as Harry shrieks in pure agony.
How could this be? Harry is secure within the Protection Orb. Nothing can penetrate through its veil! Tom's eyes widen in horror as Harry's own fingernails embed themselves deep within Nagini's bite mark. Blood gushes down Harry's forearm as he cries.
"HELP TOM! IT HURTS!!!"
Tom shatters the Protection Orb and hastily captures Harry in his clutch. He mounts on top of Harry, holding him down.
Tom has failed him. He failed to properly protect Harry! The Unbreakable Vow shall smite him where he stands due to the weight of his own incompetence. How could this have--
His eyes narrow towards Harry's nails deep within the wound. Tom casts Harry's hand away, and is clouded by the crimson of Harry's blood.
Why would Harry inflict himself with pain? This is madd--
"Ah..."
Tom's eyes relax, devoid of emotion.
"Tom..." Harry's sweet voice calls as he bites his lips.
"A parasite, from that wretched soul, embeds itself within you. Due to his influence, even your own divine limbs have conspired against you..." Tom wraps his fingers around Harry's pristine neck.
"Do not fret, darling... I shall remove them for you. You don't need them anymore. I shall alleviate you from this torture... I shall keep you safe... So only rely on me."
"No," Harry replies defiantly. With a surge of strength, Harry summons all his resolve to yank the Slytherin's Locket from Tom's neck, hurling it towards Hermione and Ron.
"OPEN!!!" he screams in Parseltongue.
The golden doors of the Slytherin's Locket swing open, revealing a surge of ominous darkness rushing into the air.
A Horcrux...
Its essence is absolutely repulsive, yet undeniably beautiful.
Granger and Weasley marvel at the sight in terror.
"STAB IT!!!"
Harry's voice breaks them from their trance. Instantly, together, they grasp the Sword of Gryffindor. With a combined power, they draw the blade into the air and plunge it into the locket, shattering it into glittered fragments.
Instantaneously, the voice falls silent. Shockwaves enter Tom's body, hid thoughts finally cleared. He can freely think again... However, memories of his atrocities flood within his skull. Everything he had done was under Horcrux's influence. The frigid winds blast against his face, and his damp legs are numb. The cold burrows inside his skin, causing Tom to shiver. He no longer had the Locket's protection, and the only source of warmth is from Harry's blood. His gushing blood stained Tom's hands.
"Harry..." His voice trembles, not from the cold, "What..."
Tom's gaze locks onto his precious Harry, Harry, who is battered and deeply bruised. His arm exposes his inner flesh, dripping with blood. His cheeks flushed from the wind, and his lips are purple from the relentless cold. Despite the agony which reflects in his vibrant emerald eyes, when he meets Tom's gaze, he smiles in relief. Tom doesn't deserve such...
"What have I done?"
Notes:
Draco's POV is unfortunately not in this chapter.
Next Chapter:
The aftermath of Tom's actions, and Draco gets vistors.
Chapter 26: The Time Has Come
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"STAB IT!!!"
The Horcrux screeches a menacing hiss as the Sword of Gryffindor flashes in the air. Together, Ron and Hermione grip the hilt and plunge the sword into the locket. The metal clangs echo together then...
Silence.
After the weeks of dread, Horcrux is gone. It's over. It's finally over.
"Harry..." Tom calls weakly, his whole body shakes. That unsettling, crazed look is gone.
Thank Merlin.
He's back.
Tom is back.
A warm teardrops fall onto his frozen cheek.
"What have I done?" Tom whispers.
"No, it's not-- Agh!"
Stabbing pain gushes from his arm, and blood stains the snow. Maybe... it wasn't his brightest idea to gnaw at the snake's bite to distract Tom.
"Harry!"
The soaking wet Ron and Hermione rush towards them. In Ron holds the battered locket, and Hermione has the Sword of Gryffindor. Bitter cold winds whip through them, making even their bones shiver. The air seeps through their clothes and clings to their skin. If Harry is cold, they must be freezing.
Before Ron and Herimone could reach him, Tom scoops Harry into his arms. Tom shakes his head and uses his bangs to cover his eyes.
Of all the times to use his old 1942 tricks...
"Tom, it's--"
"No." He says firmly.
Harry sighs and clings closer to Tom's chest. Hopefully, it warms him up.
The tent's walls break the winds, but it isn't exactly any warmer. Tom uses Hermione's wand to create several warming charms, and slowly the wet clothes regain their vibrant hues. Once dry, Tom places Harry on the cot. He tries to grab hold Tom, but he quickly pulls away to huff another spell. A small flame flickers through the air until settling on the complete other side of the tent. Tom sits beside the fire, never looking back.
What the hell?
Tom was so clingy before. Harry couldn't go anywhere or do anything without Tom practically glued to his side. But now, he's avoiding him, and... It's lonely.
Tom can't put this all on himself, not after what the Horcrux put him through. He isn't alone, and Harry needs to make sure Tom knows that. He just needs to--
"Stay put," Hermione sighs, holding Harry down. Her arm is already mended, as the healing potions and bandages are laid out. "Your arm needs patching, too."
"She's right, you know," Ron says with a hint of a smile.
"Of coruse she is," Harry flops on the pillow. Hermione rolls her eyes like a mother dealing with her child's tantrum. She silently opens the potion, dabbing a rag to his arm. Ron watches and winces like he is in pain. Then his eyes wander to the left and Harry follows his gaze to the pierced locket.
"I can't believe we did it..."
"I can't believe you came back."
"Ah, uh... well..." Ron scratches the back of his head. "Sorry, I left. It was just… I thought--" He takes a deep breath. "I'm back.” He cleared his throat. “If you know, if you still want me.”
Harry smiles, "Always-- Ouch!" Hermione pours the healing brew on Harry's open wound. What happened to the light dabbing?
"Weeks and weeks of not being here..." Hermione huffs, tightening the wraps around Harry's arm, not enough that it hurts, but he definitely feels a noticeable pressure. "After I chased after you. After calling you. After I begged you not to leave! I--"
Harry shifts nervously, "Uh, Hermione, maybe--"
"Let me finish!" she scolds Harry, glaring back at Ron. "You were gone! You didn't know if we were dead; we didn't know if you were dead! It was brutal, absolutely distressing!" She turns away.
"When I was underneath the freezing water, I... I called for you. I desperately wanted to see you, even if it was one last time. Then, out of nowhere, you appeared. You saved me, saved us both. And... I was so glad." Hermione finally glances upwards, giving a small smile to Ron. "I suppose that counts for something now, doesn't it?"
Harry exhales in relief; part of him was expecting Hermione to be blood-ugly angry and then curse Ron into next year with him as collateral damage. Hermione clears her throat. Wait, she can't reading his thoughts, could she? She rolls her eyes, and with a final tug, she tightens the bands around Harry's arm.
"There... All done."
Ron and Hermione. They are back together again. Although the Golden Trio's reunion is bittersweet, Harry needs to tend to a certain someone else.
As soon as Hermione lets go, Harry heads straight towards a cluttered mess on the left. He rummages through the pile, picking up a dark green scarf with a shiny checkered scale pattern. On the far side of the tent, Tom huddles near the small dancing flames as crinkling noises break light smoke into the air. His back turned from them all, casting a shadow on Harry.
"Tom."
He doesn't answer, doesn't even spare a single glance.
This is ridiculous.
Harry tries to wrap the scarf around Tom's neck, but Tom nudges him away.
"Don't."
The scarf falls to the ground, twisting into a thousand knots. No, maybe it isn't the scarf... Harry's hands almost trembles, but he squeezes it shut to stop it. He doesn't want to admit it, but... that genuinely hurt. Tom has never rejected him before.
Harry twirls his engagement ring for comfort. He bites his lip and fakes a stutter, "I'm c-cold..."
Tom's shoulders fall as he scoffs, "Then use a warming--"
Their eyes meet.
Tom's eyes are so stupidly captivating, just like the first time Harry saw them. But why... does he look so troubled? They destroyed the Horcrux. Tom is free. He wonders what his expression is making, because what ever it was, it causes Tom to groan and violently scratch his hair.
"Those eyes are my downfall..."
Suddenly, he is inside Tom's warm arms. Tom is holding him so tightly, like if he lets go, Harry might disappear. Why can't Tom see he isn't going anywhere? Harry pulls Tom close, rubbing small circles on his back.
"Tom. It wasn't you, the Horcrux--"
"The very Horcrux I wore with pride!" He shouts. "Slytherin's Locket was a testament to my lineage, to my dignity, and I so brazenly assumed it would yield to my will. Such arrogance... How malleable are my thoughts? My actions? To be led astray, to be seduced by that malevolent power." Tom scoffs humorlessly, "Perhaps I am no different from Vo--"
Harry grabs Tom's cheeks and stretches them apart.
"You.
Aren't.
Him."
The flames crinkle once again, and intense warm light shines on Harry's face.
"Your pasts match, yes, you underestimated the Horcrux, yes, but you shattered any possibility of becoming that bloody bastard the moment you were willing to change. Merlin, Tom! You have empathy, you have understanding... you have me." He caresses Tom's reddened cheeks. "You ought to know by now how stubborn I can be. I'll push you into a horde of dementors if you ever even think of something like that again."
"Harry..." Tom's hands grasp Harry's own. "The fear... the fears of losing you distorted me. So much so, I was prepared to tear you, and everything you cared for, apart. I... I can barely endure the thought of how you see me."
"That's why you avoided me?" Harry sighs, leaning on Tom's shoulder, "Well, darling, allow me. I'll tell you exactly how I see you... I see a horribly arrogant, obnoxiously attractive, brilliantly foolish git. A bloody, utterly stupid git, I call my fiancé."
For the first time in a long time, Tom laughs. A genuine laugh.
"Why..." Tom says in Parseltongue, "your way with words is remarkable." Tom traces his thumb over Harry's lips. "I'm compelled to seal those exquisite lips of yours."
Harry chuckles, "Then do it--"
Tom's lips meet Harry's.
His lips...
The kiss...
Soft and gentle, yet fiery and passionate. Everything it was before, it is now. Oh, dear Merlin... He missed this so much.
"Mmm..." Harry hums, trying to deepen the kiss, but Tom pulls away.
"Tantalizing..." Tom whispers on Harry's lips. "However, we ought to spare our audience."
Audience-- Ron and Hermione! What the actual hell! He can't believe he forgot about them!
Tom kisses his forehead and mutters a spell, "Granger. Weasley." Items from the back left pile rustle. Bursting up are two lemon sherbets that shoot toward Ron and Hermione, hovering in front of their faces.
"I was... My deepest apologies," he lowers his head. "No amount of shame can describe my actions. I accept any punishment you deem fit. Your friendship with Harry is invaluable. One hold in the highest regard. You two are worth so much."
Friendship.
Thinking back to 1942, Tom never had meaningful relationships; he never had friends. The pre-Death Eaters were more like Tom's followers who worshipped and feared him. He had the chance to confide in someone or simply muck about with them.
"No worries, mate," Ron says first. He unwraps the lemon sherbet out of the air, plops it into his mouth, and swirls the candy around. "I know how you care about Harry. And before, I suppose I was out of line, even without a Horcrux," he mumbles.
Harry can't help but smile. However, that same smile is slapped off his face when Hermione steps in front of Tom.
"You should have listened to me. All of you should have! I said that none of us should have worn that blasted locket! Should this happens again, and I won't hold back."
"I expect nothing less, Granger," Tom nods in approval.
She twiddles with the lemon sherbet and shifts her eyes away from Harry and Tom. "However, I suppose... moving forward... Ron and I will leave so you two can have..." Hermione clears her throat, "Privacy."
Harry pauses with reddened cheeks still on Tom's lap and isn't planning to move anytime soon. Thank you very much. Then that faint blush turns into a massive, eating grin.
"And we'll do the same," Harry says, stupidly sweet, "for you and Ron."
Ron chokes on the lemon sherbet.
"We haven't even-- I mean, we aren't..." Hermione flushes, "In any case! Because of the whole ordeal, we have Gryffindor's Sword! So Riddle, yes, I suppose you could be forgiven..."
"Y-yeah," Ron nods, "So, uh, thanks for guiding Harry!"
Harry squints at Ron, "Guide? What guide?" He glances at Tom and Hermione, who both look confused. He returns his gaze back towards Ron. "What are you talking about?"
"What do you mean? The Patronus you send, mate."
"Might I remind you Harry's Patronus is a stag?" Tom scoffs.
"Ah, I thought it looked different. You know, no antlers." Ron sticks his index fingers off the side of his head.
"I was under the impression Granger sent a Patronus to warn Harry."
"When on earth could I have sent a Patronus? I was rather busy." Hermione crosses her arms.
"If it wasn't any of us, then someone else knows where the..." Harry's word drifts.
They know where the sword was. Did they put it there? Are they the one who cast the Patronus? He doesn't know anyone producing a doe though. Could it be Dumbledore himself-- No, it can't be... He was there when Dumbledore fell. He saw him...
A gentle hand strokes the back of Harry's head. Tom's touch helps him from reliving that dread.
"It seems we have an ally."
"Finally, some good news," Ron sighs.
The cold melts as the warming charms have done their jobs. Tom's tiny flame flickers out, drifting a small string of smoke into the air. Inside the tent, it is now snug and cozy. Despite everything that just happened, it's nice. But it's far from over.
"What now?" Hermione asks, placing her lemon sherbet in her pocket.
"Nothing changes. We finish the mission," Harry replies. "There are three more Horcruxes out there." We destroy them, and we destroy Volde--"
"NO!" Ron shouts, and Harry jolts as Tom holds his waist rather protectively.
"Ron?!" Hermione gasps.
"Ah, sorry. But his name's jinxed, a taboo. That's how those Death Eaters track people! You-Know-Who's name breaks protective enchantments, causing some sort of magical disturbance. So for Merlin's sake don't say his bloody name!"
"A Taboo?" Tom hums, "Intriguing usage... I suppose only those who truly wish to confront him would consider uttering his name." Tom looks both impressed and disgusted.
Harry shakes his head. "Taboo or not, we have the Sword of Gryffindor now. He doesn't have a chance."
Ron smiles proudly and Hermione nods. But oddly enough, Tom turns away in... shame?
"Tom?"
Tom's gaze wanders to a specific part of the desk. There are withered herbs, extra potion bottles, various books, and an assortment of feathered pens with a fountain. Then towards the left is--
No, it can't be.
Tom stares intensely at the books and pens. "Shamefully, even without the sword we could have--"
Harry detaches from Tom's warm arms. His heart quickens to the point it's about to stop. He wanders to the desk and picks up his wand.
Rather, what's left of it.
His holly and phoenix wand, the wand that has been with him for years, is nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather keeps the halves hanging together. The wooden base is splintered apart completely. Harry carefully takes it into his hands like it's a living thing that is terribly injured.
"That's..." Hermione places her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I used your wand to escape Godric's Hollow. Then, it... I..."
Harry wanted to tell Hermione that 'What's done is done' and 'It is not her fault' but the words just couldn't seem to leave his mouth. His wand has been with him for so long, ever since the start.
His wand...
He stares blankly at the broken pieces in his hand until a warm cloth wraps around his neck. He turns, and Tom presses their foreheads together. Ah, a rush of comfortable sensation flows through them both.
Harry opens his eyes, "Thanks..." He places his wand on the table, and this time he doesn't look back.
"The only way now is forward."
"Right..." Hermione says, unsure.
"So..." Ron hesitantly cuts in, "Why did you go to Godric's Hollow?"
Hermione sighs, makes her way to the left side of the room, and raises up the Sword of Gryffindor. "We hoped to find clues or the sword itself, but You-Know-Who laid a trap for us..."
Harry subconsciously rubs Nagini's bite, but Tom beats him to it.
She settles the sword down and retrieves a book. "I found this there." She lifts "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore."
"Why did you take that?" Harry unsuccessfully controls his anger. "Rita Skeeter released that foul book immediately after Dumbledore's wake. She doesn't have any respect!"
"I only took the book because Grindelwald's photo was above it," she explains rather defensively. "You said he was the thief you saw, so what he stole may be related to Dumbledore--"
"They were lovers," Harry sighs dismissively. "He and Dumbledore were on opposite sides of the war. Dumbledore won, but... they still had..." Harry trails off, "Maybe they both had regrets."
"...I've too once fallen for the same deception," 1942 Dumbledore's voice is unbearably low. "His magnificent qualities were awe-inspiring, absolutely brilliant. Together we better each other. We understood each other. However, his lust for power and dominance exceeded our affinity. Despite my pleas, I..." He chokes on his words.
Then, his Professor Dumbledore said, "Honestly, I find myself quite envious... I, too, wish I could have been together with--ah... Forgive the rambling of an old man. The consequences of my actions have far been settled... Your influence, no, your love, Tom, has changed him for the better. It makes me wonder if mine wasn't enough... You two deserved to live out..."
They will.
Harry glances over at Tom, who stares intently at the book in Hermione's hands.
"Tom?"
He doesn't answer. His eyes narrow like a key clicking to the lock.
"What are you--" Harry stops mid-question; after all, this is a golden opportunity to test his new skills.
"Legilimens."
A flashy haze covers his vision as he enters inside of Tom's thoughts, seeing through Tom's eyes.
Harry sees Hogwarts' library, but it matches the one in the past. Tom sits among stacks and stacks of books. But there, on the table, a large old book about wands?
"How sly," Tom's disembodied voice chuckles, breaking Harry's concentration.
Harry feels his mind being nudged out of Tom's thoughts. When he opens his eyes, he is back inside the tent with Tom gazing at him. He doesn't look upset; no, it's more the classic conceited Tom Riddle smug.
Tom kisses his forehead. "Well, well, there is hope for you yet, darling. Although, your Legilimency is horribly direct."
"Wouldn't have to use it if you just used your words," he teases.
"Cheeky," Tom smiles, clearing his throat. "Now then, I believe I have deciphered my counterpart's desires."
Ron smacks his tongue; the lemon sherbet's remains melt away. "Well? Out with it."
"Gregorovitch, the wand maker, and an item stolen by Grindelwald. Clearly, my inferior self desires none other than a wand."
"A wand," Hermione repeats skeptically.
"Not just any wand, Granger," Tom's expression steadies as he breathes the next words, "the most powerful wand ever to exist."
Ron and Hermione gasp in unison, leaving Harry confused.
Hermione shakes her head. "That's absurd! That--those--it's a legend!"
"Right, there's no way it's actually bloody real!" Ron nods.
Harry frowns, "Legend? Wand? What are you all talking about?"
Tom holds Harry close, leading him to the cot. Once settled, he begins an old myth about a certain stone, cloak, and wand.
The Tale of the Deathly Hallows.
Time is relative.
Hours fly by, with months disappearing all the same. But then a moment of dread can feel like a lifetime.
In 1942, all Draco wanted was to get out of that miserable timeline. And now... to hell with him for bloody rushing.
The present is Death Eaters sinking their teeth deep within Hogwarts as the Slytherins rise to elites. Draco, himself, became the new Head Boy, but his influence quickly stagnated as the Malfoy reputation plummeted. Even his lackeys began blatantly disrespecting him, his father, and the Malfoy legacy. A stream of mockery follows him. Before he knew it, winter becomes spring.
Time is bloody relative.
Inside the Malfoy Manor for Easter break. His home... It's no longer his home, as Death Eaters infest it, like he hasn't even seen before. Their Manor is used as a base as the Dark Lord's influence grows to new heights.
And Potter...
Stupid Potter is nowhere in sight.
Shouldn't the Chosen One done something by now?
Draco tosses on his side, exhausted. He had been exhausted for a while now. A moment's peace is a fantasy at this point.
"Draco." His room door opens with his mother standing in the doorway.
"Mother?"
Her expression is hesitant, then she shakes her head.
"Come, Draco."
Has the Dark Lord returned from his excursion? Is he going to...
He nods, obediently following his mother down the corridor. Arranged along the wall are the portraits of the previous Malfoys, but each one avoids making eye contact. The lined Malfoy portraits avoid eye contact as they pass. With all the Death Eaters parading about, he shudders imagining what they have witnessed.
His mother stops in front of the drawing room, whispering, "They say they've got Potter."
"What--"
The doors swing open, and dozens of gruesome, malevolent eyes fixate on Draco.
They are waiting...
A chill runs down his spine, and his skin crawls. The Death Eaters form a small group, all surrounding in a circle. Draco holds his breath and peeks between the gaps of the Death Eaters' limbs.
There are four of them.
Granger.
Weasley.
Riddle.
And...
"Well, Draco?" his father says eagerly, shoving an opening for Draco. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
"I can't..." Draco mumbles, keeping his distance from this so-called Potter, "I can't be sure." After everything... he'd rather not be here at all.
"Look close, Draco." His voice filled with such anticipation. One Draco had never heard before. "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be--"
"Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" The voice behind him scoffs.
"Of course not," his father huffs, ushering Draco forward.
His father is right.
If it is Potter, if the Malfoys turn him in, then everything will be as it was before. No... it will be mmensely better. Their legacy will forever be in the Dark Lord's favor. They would reap the benefits of his new regime.
Only if it is him...
The bloke doesn't seem like the Potter Draco knows. In fact, he didn't look like Potter at all. That being said, with every step, Draco's eyes refuse to focus on him, unwilling to lock eyes with the so-called Potter.
What if...
Draco turns to there left. It's Granger, sitting on her knees, dread across her face. Beside her is Weasley, whose face is etched with boiling rage, about ready to throw himself into the fray. Are they both so oblivious that their actions could validate the so-called Potter's identity?
No. Maybe, it's not him.
Finally, Draco's gaze lands on Riddle. Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord's past. The one who knows such secrets which can cripple this current reign. Draco studies Riddle's eerily calm and calculated expression. He couldn't decipher anything; honestly, it may be for the best... He swallows his throat and avoids the so-called Potter until he no longer can. With the distance closing in, his details grow clearer and clearer.
The so-called Potter's face is aching and swollen, similar to that of a chipmunk hoarding nuts in its cheeks. A Stinging Charm... Next, his nose is broken, contorting to the left side of his face. Dark circles are embedded underneath his eyes, resembling a filthy raccoon.
Draco forces himself closer, and with each step a stupid voice echoes through his thoughts.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things about you or your family. You're right. I don't know your situation."
That posture...
"But I'm not ready to give up hope. I promise, Draco. No matter what, whatever it takes, I will get us home."
That expression...
"I don't know what's going on. But this isn't right. You don't have to do this. Draco, no matter what he's making you do. I can stop him. I can help you."
Draco's feet stop.
Those stupid green eyes.
"There's the Draco I know and love."
No doubt, the one before him is...
Harry bloody Potter.
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Escape from the Malfoy Manor!
And...
Voldemort encounters his past.
Chapter 27: Vision No More
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His impression of the Malfoy Manor came from passing gossip and Draco's endless bragging. But, seeing it in person... It's a different story. The light fractures from the crystal chandelier spread throughout the drawing room. The architecture is needlessly exquisite, with needlessly endless portraits displayed above the furniture and other priceless treasures. Too bad the only thing Harry could admire is cold marble against his aching knees.
He bites his lip and winces. Hermione's Stinging sure Charm lived up to its name. His face is a complete mess; they are surrounded, no wands, no plans, utterly trapped in the belly of the beast. If these rotten Death Eaters figure out he's Harry Potter, they are done.
Think.
Come on, think!
With a soft creak, the door opens. A dozen legs block the newcomers from Harry's view. But then Lucius shoves every Death Eater in his path, making a newly formed gap. There he could see a figure by the entrance.
One with that familiar platinum hair and silver eyes.
Memories rip back. Back in 1942, where they were working together to find their way back home. Back when they fought to save the Muggle children. Back when Harry considered him a friend. Draco wasn't like his father or any of the other Death Eaters, blindly obeying Voldemort's orders. He was changing for the better.
Right?
Draco turns away.
The last time Harry saw those eyes, those stupid silver eyes, they were filled with terror. Draco's expression now... is the same one he gave Professor Dumbledore back in the Astronomy Tower.
Draco chuckled humorlessly. "It's the same... It's the bloody same. Don't you see? I have to kill you, or he'll kill me. He'll kill mother, father. He'll kill them all!" His voice shakes, and his wand trembles in his hand. "This is the only way out of this madness."
Harry follows Draco's gaze, drifting over to his mother and father. If Harry had the chance to save his parents, would he do the same?
Wait... Wasn't there something else before?
"You meant to kill Pot--"
"Well, Draco?" Excitement oozes from Lucius' voice. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
"I can't..." his eyes glue to the tiles, "I can't be sure."
"Look close, Draco." Lucius presses further, "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be--"
"Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" A Death Eater scoffs.
"Of course not," Lucius groans, nudging Draco closer.
From Lucius to bloodthirsty Death Eaters, Draco hesitantly moves forward. Silver eyes dart to Tom, Ron, Hermione, the floor, the ceiling-- anywhere and everywhere-- except at Harry. Every step closer, Harry's breath numbs until Draco is finally in front of him.
That old smug Malfoy pride is replaced with reluctance. Draco is so close he could practically hear Harry's heartbeat. Their eyes meet.
Those silver eyes...
Draco recoils back. "W-What's wrong with his face?"
"Indeed, what is wrong with his face?" Lucius questions the Snatchers.
"It wasn't us! We found the bloody bloke that way," one huffs in reply.
"Really? Looks like Stinging Jinx to me," Lucius hums, scratching his chin.
Lucius is sharp when he wants to be. If they fi--
"Yee-ouch!!" Harry shouts.
Tom's eye twitches, but, luckily, Ron and Hermione stop him from doing anything stupid.
Did Draco just pinch him?
Draco proceeds to stretch Harry's sore cheek so far to the right, causing his bangs to drop over his eyes. "Feels real..." Draco states blankly, snapping Harry's cheek back into place. "Ugh." Draco flicks his hand back.
"Mucky snot..."
What--
"Well?" Lucius presses urgently.
"I-I don’t know," Draco shouts bluntly, returning to Narcissa's side. His face, overcast by the fireplace behind him.
"Good enough! I shall call--"
"It's best to be certain, Lucius," Narcissa scolds in a rather cold voice. "If we summon the Dark Lord... If we are mistaken, then the consequences--"
"My, my, what's all this?" A high-pitched, irritating shrill suffocates the air. Matted, untamed hair knots as the bloody witch bursts in uninvited.
Bellatrix.
Her tattered black gown sways as she carelessly twirls her wand. "Well, Cissy?"
"Potter," Lucius answers instead, "we believe we--no, I have caught Potter and his friends."
"Potter?!" Bellatrix shrieks in disgusting delight. "Are you sure? The Dark Lord must be informed at once!" She smirks, lifting up her sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. She sneers at him, Ron, Hermione, and--
"Crucio!"
Flashing embers fly past Harry's cheek, hitting...
"Tom--"
"Oh, ho! You thought you could get away with striking me, you filthy mudblood! Allow me to demonstrate true Dark Magic!!!" Bellatrix screams with glee.
"Crucio! Crucio!! CRUCI--"
Harry rams into Bellatrix's legs. She stumbles back, and her spell flies upwards, resulting in him being in the line of fire. The curse seeps into Harry's skin, and his veins turn against him. Instead of pumping blood, every part of his body is filled with aching agony.
Tom hisses, "You foul, wretched--"
Bellatrix kicks Harry off her legs and flicks the dust from her shoulder. "So eager, no, no... So desperate to protect this bloody poof. Aren't you..." She grips the root of Harry's bangs, exposing his scar.
"Potter."
"It is Potter!" Lucius screams, rolling up his sleeve. "I shall call the Dark Lord!"
"No, I will!"
The Snatchers and Death Eaters howl and argue, each wanting the honor of summoning the Dark Lord. In the chaos, a glare shines into Harry's eye and flashes at Bellatrix's.
"Where did you get that?!" Her dark eyes widen, tightening her grip.
"This?" One of the Snatchers shrugs. He lifts up the Sword of Gryffindor and lazily puts it over his shoulder. "It was in the lass' bag. But I reckon it’s mine--"
"STUPEFY!!"
The spell shoots across the room, hitting every single Death Eater who dared to reach for their Dark Marks. All her strikes are frantic, merciless, precise.
"Calm yourself, woman!" Lucius growls, dodging her attack.
"You desolate buffoon! We shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"
Several Death Eaters collapse to the ground. Bellatrix pants heavily as she rushes, prying the sword out of the stunned Snatcher's grip. She lifts the hilt of the sword to her face. Her wand twitches in her fingers, and she snaps toward Hermione.
Harry throws himself between them. His own body as a brick wall.
"Tch... Harry Potter shall not be harmed," she bitterly mumbles to herself. "My Dark Lord shall dispose of you himself... Clear the room! Place these prisoners in the cellar!" She stops them as they try to grab Hermione. "Not this one. I want to have a little conversation with this one. Girl to girl."
"NOO!!!" Ron shouts, being pulled back by the remaining Death Eaters.
Harry uses every fiber of his being to resist, but then he sees Tom's face. While the Death Eaters hoist him up, Tom is calm and controlled. He nods ever so slightly, as if signalling him to calm down. Harry's muscles relax as they are led to the door.
Tom has a plan.
"Hold on," Bellatrix's face twists into a sickening grin. "Let the poof stay as well." The Death Eaters release Tom, and Bellatrix murmurs a binding charm. She turns to Harry. "Oh, don't fret about your precious beau, Potter. There will be more to love..." She traces a silver dagger from Tom's brow to his chin.
"Once I have finished butchering him!"
"Don't you--" Harry's body jolts back as Death Eaters drag him and Ron to the door. On his last glance, he sees Draco. A trembling Draco, gripping at his upper arm.
Then he and Ron are violently dragged out of the drawing room, through the corridors, and down a steep flight of stairs. With each pull, the lights got dimmer and dimmer. He could barely see anything when the heavy doors swing open. Harry and Ron crash inside, and the door slams shut, echoing throughout the darkness.
"HERMIONE!!! HERMIONE!!!" Ron throws himself at the locked doors, banging his fist. "YOU BASTARDS!!!" He screams. "Harry, Harry! What do we do?! We can't just leave Hermione with that psychopath!!"
That's true. Who knows what she will do to her? But if Tom is with Hermione, then maybe--
"Ron? Harry...?" A small voice calls out from the darkness. The voice sounds so familiar...
"Luna?"
The metallic tip hovers against his throat as his fiancé is forcibly taken away. Oh, how this Lestrange shall suffer his wrath. Not even a trace of her existence shall be spared once he is finished with her. However, with those who linger, he and Granger are utterly outnumbered. The Malfoy's patriarch, matriarch, Draco, and the abhorrent, deranged shrew. Honestly, did all Lestranges share the same delusional essence?
"Awww..." the wrench taunts, "Does Potter's little boy toy miss him already? Don't worry. Soon you won't feel a thing. But..." She discards Tom against a pillar with bronze wires morphing to constrict his limbs.
"Ladies first."
She flits her wand, casting the Malfoys against the rear wall. Granger's shadow forms an overcast as her body hoists into the air. She remains suspended beneath the crystal chandelier, her locks elevate upright before obstructing around her throat. Lestrange sneers, hurling Granger onto the floor. She glides across the drawing room, colliding with the fireplace. Embers sear through her sweater, the ends of her hair scorched as she scrapes to breathe.
"Now then," Lestrange presses her wand against Granger's chin. "How did you get it?"
"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"LIAR!!! You couldn't have gotten the sword any other way! Now, what else did you take from my vault!?"
Her vault... What else lies inside?
"I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking--"
Magic expels from Lestrange's wand as "crucio" escapes her lips. Her assault, endless. Each strike more grotesque than the last.
Granger screams in agony.
Tom underestimated Muggleborns; no... he underestimated Granger herself. Her valor and resilience, in spite of the inconceivable torment. She refuses to betray his Harry. She is truly an honourable Gryffindor. However...
Idiocy has its limits.
"ANSWER ME!!"
Granger's consciousness is fleeting. "I don't..."
Tom scoffs. His chuckle resonates through the drawing room, silencing everything in its wake. All eyes direct their gaze towards him. The Malfoys are taken aback, with Draco, in particular, terrified. All are engrossed with his action, which spared Granger a moment to regain oxygen.
Lestrange's eyes narrow as she releases Granger at her feet. "Well, well, the poof enjoys watching other Mudbloods break. Perhaps you were sorted into the wrong house." She hums, somewhat intrigued.
"Ah..." he shakes his head. "Rather, I find amusement in how utterly incompetent you are--"
"CRUCIO!!!"
His limbs thrust against the pillar, with bronze bindings embedding themselves into his flesh. His thumbs curl into his fist. Such intensity, yet what torments him even more is acknowledging Lestrange's proficiency in the Dark Arts.
"Enlighten me..." Tom grits out, and Lestrange's eyes widen from his reaction. "Are all Death Eaters incapable of extracting information, or is it simply you?"
"You will regret such disrespect, Mudblood!"
More onslaughts of the Dark Arts, but Tom honed such darkness it became his abode. His cough morphs into laughter.
"How dreadful... yet unsurprising. Possessing no sort of intellect..."
"What?!"
"For if there was," He continues, "you would recognize the sword is nothing… but a counterfeit."
Swift as lightning, Lestrange Accios the Sword of Gryffindor within her grasp. She diligently inspects the hilt. Her eyes narrow like a hawk, combing for inconsistencies, blemishes, any signs indicating forgery. She grips her wand, prepared to unleash chaos. However, against Tom's self-assurance, his demeanor.
She falters.
"Draco! Fetch the goblin!”
"I, I-- what?" Draco trembles by the sudden demand.
"Ugh! Has your father's incompetence affected your hearing? Bring me that bloody goblin, you nitwit!”
"Don't you dare speak to Draco like that!"
"Quiet, Cissy! This matter extends even beyond you!"
A mother's fierce glare is quite a sight. How she would go against her sister is rather amiable. Tom found himself wondering if his mother would have done any of the sort. Malfoy's matriarch clutches her son out of the room.
Blasted... Tom hadn't anticipated the presence of a goblin. One, he assumes, is aware of the sword's authenticity. Though his options are limited, the odds have turned in their favor. After he persuades an insight from the past.
"The son of Abraxas Malfoy," he mutters.
The current Malfoy head gasps as the wineglass jerks moments from his grasp.
"Quiet, poof," Lestrange scowls, returning the blade to his throat.
This Lestrange is insignificantly more bothersome than the one in his timeline. However, her threat isn't frightening in the least. Tom intentionally lowers his chin to the blade, permitting the contact. "I am merely paying respect to the host."
"RESPECT?! To him?!" She screams, trampling on Granger's hair. She grips at his throat and snarls, "Lucius has fallen from the Dark Lord's favor! He is a disgrace! Yet you show him respect?!"
His gaze remains steady, which only further infuriates the harlot. The more she is consumed by rage, the simpler her downfall shall be.
"He is a Malfoy," Tom manages to exhale as Abraxas' son's expression wavers. "Is this not the Malfoy's residence? The Dark Lord has chosen this dwelling as his base. I presume you fail to compare."
"What did you say?!" Lestrange shrieks like a banshee.
Warm crimson droplets fall on the floor.
Her silver blade slices through his flesh. Pity. Hopefully, his fiancé isn't off put by a few additional scars.
"Wait," the new head of Malfoys interjects, "he can--"
"SHUT UP!!!" Lestrange knocks Malfoy back. "I am the Dark Lord's most POWERFUL, most LOYAL, most TRUSTED disciple! I am..." she endlessly rambles and rants.
Her breath fueled by malice, and she emphasized words by pathetically thrashing about. Through her tantrum her inner sleeve began to flutter, revealing her repulsive breasts. However, perched between the two wrinkled lumps. A thirteen-and-a-half-inch, yew wood, Phoenix feather core wand...
His wand.
Finally... He knew he would eventually reclaim this timeline's wand. However, to have his vile counterpart entrust it to this wrench, in the most grotesque of places, is unimaginable.
"I am most WORTHY--"
A hefty thud echoes as the doors swing open. Draco re-enters the drawing room accompanied by his mother, two Death Eaters, and a small-statured, grubby, scowling goblin.
"Ahh..." Lestrange revoltingly moans, "Griphook, just the one we wanted to see!" Lestrange steps over Granger as if she were merely part of the Malfoy decorum.
The goblin's glances go from Granger towards Tom until his dark, beady eyes are ensnared by the Sword of Gryffindor. He secures it with such reverence, examining it with grand detail and admiration.
Lestrange snarls impatiently, her stance tense. So much so, Tom could view the contours of his wand. Cursed, vile bronze ensnaring him in spellbound. He ought to tear his--
"Well?"
"Very detailed and intricate..." the goblin muttered in awe.
Does goblins' insatiable greed have no bounds? Evidently, such a miserable creature won't defy its own nature. Much less defy the far superior witch--
"However," he interrupts, "it's fake."
The deep-seated confusion doesn't dare to plaster itself onto Tom's expression. Yet inwardly, he ponders. What the goblin had to gain for lying.
Relief traverses across Lestrange's twisted face. "How lovely," she moans, flicking her wand, slicing it into the goblin’s face. She cackles as he collapses toward the ground and promptly kicks him aside. With a wretched smug grin, she raises her blade towards Tom but pivots. "Ah, ah, as I said before," she smirks, positioning the dagger over Granger.
"Ladies first."
"Like hell!" Weasley roars full of vengeance.
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
A spew of light strikes Lestrange into the walls, with several Malfoy portraits toppling over. Her wand propels upwards from her fingertips, permitting a hand to snatch it. An exquisite hand adorned with his engagement ring.
Ah, Harry.
Simply with a glance, Harry and Weasley dash towards opposing paths. Weasley releases spell after spell as Harry dashes to Tom's aid, freeing him from the bronze binding. Tom grimaces from the pain's aftermath; however, Harry steadies him. Harry's emerald eyes filled with concern for his injuries. Then, viewing the very concern morph into unbridled rage is intoxicating...
"STUPEFY!"
His fiancé strikes, causing Abraxas' son to drop his wine glass. It shatters, blooming a burgundy wine across the marble floor. Next a streamline of spells disperses across the room, a splendid barrage of magic.
"STOP OR SHE DIES!" Lestrange shouts, dagger at the hardly conscious Granger's throat. “Drop your wands!”
Harry's grip tenses between Tom's hand and Lestrange's wand.
"Ah!" she snarls. “Drop them, or we’ll see exactly how filthy her blood is!”
Weasley lets out a furious roar, hurling his wand across the drawing room. Harry bitterly bites the bottom of his lip before doing the same.
"Good," Lestrange sneers, dropping Granger. "Pick them up, Draco!"
Draco jolts upwards, stumbling on the corner of the carpet.
How peculiar...
Not the manner in which Draco's eyes narrow ever so slightly before he hunches down to gather Lestrange's wand. Nor how he scurries to the far side to retrieve the other. But... the precise angle at which his foot fell and jolted back.
Draco returns to Lestrange, and she snatches her wand from his grasp. "Now, it's time!" she cackles. “Call him, Draco!"
Draco's eyes remain fixated on Harry as he reluctantly lifts the fold of his sleeve. However, his father doesn't hesitate.
Harry's warmth is abruptly taken from Tom as he hunches over, clenching his burning scar.
"Harry!" Tom grips his fiancé's shoulders.
A low tremor reverberates from above. With an ominous creak, the crystal chandelier plummets downwards. Lestrange shrieks, darting from its path, enabling Weasley to secure Granger. Tom shields Harry from the shattered glass while Draco covers his own bloody face. Glistening shards of crystals scatter throughout the room. Before the chaos could subside, Harry tears himself from Tom's protection to pin Draco down. Their tussle lasted a moment before halting. Harry grits his teeth and pries the wands from Draco's grasp.
"Stupfey!"
His spell bursts outwards, dismantling Abraxas' son along with two other Death Eaters. Draco's mother attempts to protect her husband; however, her wand flings out of her hands.
"What--"
"You filthy little monkey! How dare you defy your masters?!" Lestrange spits with venom towards a house-elf.
A puny elf possessing enormous-sized eyes with batlike ears stands in front of Lestrange. Stands in pure defiance.
"Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!" The elf shouts, attacking once more.
Utterly remarkable...
Once again, his pre-existing biases have been altered. No, they have been utterly demolished. A Muggle-born. A goblin. And now... an elf.
Prior to this timeline, prior to Harry, Tom's belief has been that there are those who are superior, resulting in the rest being less than nothing. Then he, himself, remains at the top. Thus, he so arrogantly underestimated those other abilities, those others' worth. Such powers Muggles, Muggleborns, goblins, elves possess differ from those of pure wizards and witches, yet poweful all the same.
"Catch!" Harry shouts, ripping Tom from his thoughts.
He tosses a wand towards Tom, but he maneuvers Lestrange's wand through his finger, off-handing it to Weasley. After all, his sights on another. Tom dives through the madness, towards the carpet. There he retrieves a wand. A certain wand. Lestrange's eyes widen first. She frantically searches herself, and her incompetence dawns on her. Who now possesses the Dark Lord's wand? No, for she has yet to realize who this wand truly belongs to.
A magnetic force summons himself, Weasley, and Granger closer. Harry hoists the groaning goblin over his shoulder and grabs Granger's knapsack. Then he seizes the elf's hand. A spiral mist forms as the elven's Disapparation takes effect. In the last moments of visibility, a new darkness envelops the room. From the darkness, Tom sees two red slits gazing back at him.
At last they meet...
Voldemort.
Their chandelier, the one he had since childhood, crashes down. Destroyed by their very own ex-house-elf, no less. It shatters into millions of pieces.
Draco shields his face but is knocked to the ground. His shoulders ache, and he opens his eyes slowly. There those stupid green eyes stare back at him. The Stinging Charm is wearing off. Potter returns to his true Potter features.
"Draco..." his voice is strained and unsure.
Why?
Why is he looking at him like that?
Potter breathes in and says the unthinkable.
"Come with us."
What? Go with... them?
That's insane... If he does, would he actually be free from the Dark Lord's grasp? Lord Voldemort's power and his influence extend deeply. The Ministry, Hogwarts, his home--everything! As of now, Draco has been keeping Potter's secrets, but to go with him… if he betrays the Dark Lord. That would be...
Draco stares at his mother and father. His grandfather's words echo.
"Draco, Draco, promise me. Swear to me! No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family!"
He turns from Potter's eyes. "I... can't..."
Potter bites his lips before forcefully prying the wands from his fingertips. His wand is gone, his father is stunned once more, Riddle found where he hid the Dark Lord's wand.
Everything is numb.
Several more of the Malfoy portraits tumble down as reality collapses too. No, not collapsing... Because of the elf, Potter, Riddle, Granger, and Weasley distort into the Disapparition. Suddenly, a thick mist seeps from above, choking the atmosphere. Draco's eyes widen, and he rolls from the new Apparition bursting through the drawing room.
There in the center...
Waxy, scaly flesh.
Bone-white, cracked skin.
Slit, blood-red eyes.
He's here.
Lord Voldemort hisses, just as Potter did in their second year, just like back in 1942. He grips a new, foreign, yet oddly familiar wand.
Riddle smirks in return, raising the Dark Lord's wand.
What the bloody hell is he thinking? Even if Riddle is Lord Voldemort's past, his wand won't betray its equal master.
Riddle hisses back and shouts.
"Reparo!"
Scattered across the marble floor, a shard twitches.
Then another.
And another.
Then, thousands.
The crystal shards hover, shimmering in the air. In an instant, the shattered fragments unite, snapping back into position. All damage is reversed as the intricate details reassemble the crown of light. Everything floats and reattaches itself to the ceiling above. The chandelier returns to its previous glory. The Malfoy portraits, the pillars, the room is back to normal. Like nothing ever happened.
Potter is nowhere in sight.
Out of all the bloody spells Riddle could have used…
"That was my..." The Dark Lord shakes uncontrollably. A green hum pulses from his wand.
"Crucio!"
Aunt Belltrix flails madly, her screams splattering all over the marble tiles. "M-my Lord... My Lord!" She gasps and pleads, "It wasn't- I didn't... P-Potter, Potter was within our grasp, but...AUGH!!!" Her arms swell and contour. "It was his bloody POOF!!!"
"His..." He hisses lowly.
Aunt Bellatrix compulsives her limbs, dragging herself to her knees. "That boy... Potter's beau! He's clever, almost as a Slytheri--"
Lord Voldemort unleashes hell.
His curses send Death Eaters crashing out of the windows and destroy everything that was just repaired. His father fights through the Stunning Charm to shield his mother. She shakes her head, urging Draco to come to their safety. They aren't that far. It's just beyond the pillar. He can make it. He quietly steps forward, but a scaly cord wraps around his foot, dragging him backwards.
"Draco!" His mother cries, only to be held back by his father.
The firm squeeze turns into a threatening pressure. Nagini hisses, her tongue flickers in Draco's face. She moves her scaly muscles to wrap around his entire body. His bones are pushed inwards, completely constricting any movement.
"Draco..." the Dark Lord chillingly enunciates.
Draco never thought he'd wish his name is someone else's.
"When exactly did Potter's beau appear?"
"I-I don't..."
"Oh?"
Draco twitches and shuts his eyes, causing Nagini to clamp down tighter. Her fangs narrowly miss his throat, slicing open his collar. His eyes jolt open, and silver meets crimson. The Dark Lord blazes into Draco's thoughts and memories. His Legilimency is ruthless. Draco overlays his fears with pure ambitions. He showed the Dark Lord when Riddle was sorted. Nothing more. Nothing less. His Occlumency doesn't falter. It can't. He can't--
"My lord, please! He is but a child," his mother pleads.
"And he was focused," his father adds, "so diligently carrying out the task of killing--"
"CRUICO!"
No, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no!
Two distinct voices, each desperately pleading for the torment to end...
More anguished cries echo through the room. A wrenching intensity shudders deep down into his bones.
His nightmare is happening until... until his mother's and father's bodies remain pliant, sprawled across the floor like--
"He's YOU!!!" Draco screams at the top of his lungs.
...
A stunned silence rips through the drawing room. His mother, father, and Aunt Bellatrix have labored breaths, but they are safe. For now...
Nagini releases him, and Draco slams into the floor.
"What?" The Dark Lord looms over him.
He doesn't want to answer, but seeing his parent's condition.
He has to.
"Or... Rather... H-he claims to be," Draco bites his lip. "There were whispers... Whispers of Dumbledore adamantly... safeguarding Rid-- MarGaunt's background, his past. P-Potter brought him to Hogwarts... it was 1942."
Lord Voldemort twitches, causing the fireplace to burst into a roaring inferno. All from hearing the year.
"I-I!" Draco shakes his head. "Thomas R. MarGaunt claims to be this Tom Marvolo Riddle! He claims to be your past!"
Suddenly, the violent flames cease.
The fireplace goes cold.
"Well, well, Albus..." the Dark Lord hums, eerily calm. He pets Nagini's scales, and she hisses in delight. "Now, Draco. How dreadful of you to withhold such... intriguing details."
Draco doesn't look up, staying "humble" to the ground. However, somehow he could practically hear the grin on the Dark Lord's face.
"My lord, I-I wouldn't dare to believe such blasphemy! It's absurd! His father, a Muggle, s-so he is a mere Mudblood. A filthy Gryffindor, no less! A-Also! He is completely and utterly devoted to Potter! So how could he--No!" Draco gazes intothe red eyes, "He could never ever be you!"
Lord Voldemort halts to contemplate Draco's words. Slowly, his smirk morphs into one of sneering disgust.
"Quiet so."
His father gasps, cautiously watching the Dark Lord. Almost as if questioning the very essence of his nature. "A mudblood?" He barely whispers.
Suddenly, his father's roots shoot into the air. His body follows, just like Aunt Bellatrix did to Granger. He is violently hurled into the chandelier as gravity takes hold. He'll plummet to the ground!
Then he halts mid-air.
A breath away from smashing into the tiles.
The Dark Lord glances with pure disdain. Nagini's elongated body encircles them both.
"Malfoy, do you dare bring into question my lineage as the heir of Slytherin? To deem my blood has rotten?"
Terror courses through his father's veins. "N-no! Of course not, my Lord!"
Draco trembles.
This conversation is familiar, but in a different timeline... It mirrored Abraxas'.
Lord Voldemort callously drops his father. "Come, Nagini. We have much to do."
Nagini slithers behind him, exiting the drawing room. Aunt Bellatrix stands and limps to follow them. As they leave, his mother quickly tends to his father.
Draco's knees are frozen in place.
Bloody hell... No, to hell with it all.
Lord Voldemort knows.
He knows.
And now...
Potter's plans are ruined.
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Draco returns to face the battle of Hogwarts. As Tom and Voldemort come face to face.
Chapter 28: That Was Then
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"What did you say to me?"
The question bellows throughout the room.A wrinkled goblin trembles, refusing to meet the Dark Lord's gaze.
"Say it again," he orders, "Say it again!"
"M-my Lord," the goblin collapses to its knees, "m-my Lord... we t-tried to st-stop them... Im-impostors, my Lord... bro-broke into the Lestranges' vault..."
"Gringotts possesses methods of revealing impostors, does it not?!" His gaze sharpens, almost like he's anticipating the creature's next words. "Who... who were these impostors?"
"It was... it was... the P-Potter b-boy and the t-three accomplices..." the Goblin squirms, "But! N-nothing of tr-true value was stolen. Simply a... a s-small golden cup--"
Thunderous green flashes explode as his vitriolic scream suffocates everything. Aunt Bellatrix shoves Death Eaters backwards, racing to the door. His father dives below the opposite table as his mother yanks Draco behind the pillar. He squeezes his eyes shut. The Dark Lord shouts curse after curse, and voices scream. Draco covers his ears, pretending the thuds aren't bodies dropping to the ground.
Suddenly, it's quiet.
He should have kept his eyes closed. He should've, but morbid curiosity is…
Bloody hell.
Corpses over corpses smear on the tiled floor. A pool of crimson. The goblin chokes its final breath as its blood drips down into a lifeless guard's eye. Nagini hisses, slithering through carnage. She basks in the warm liquid pressed against her skin, leaving a sickening trail.
Lord Voldemort heaves. "That impudent, inferior imbecile! Subcumbing to Potter's will!" The Dark Lord gazes upon his wand, his hands. "What others have they..." he mumbles, as the great snake wends its way around his feet. "Ah, Nagini, you must remain close at all times. We have a long journey ahead. Have your fill."
Nagini’s hiss echoes through the air. Her long body slides across to swallow the dead guard whole. There's a single pause while the lump travels down her stomach. She turns to Draco. Her pupils slit narrow, and she exposes her sharp fangs. She gets closer and closer.
Then strikes!
"AUGH!!!"
A snake stares back at him. His eyes frantically dart around the room. Green and white banners, the Slytherin's emblem, the Common Room?
Ah... right.
He returned to Hogwarts.
"Bloody hell..." he mutters, yanking off the quill stuck to his cheek. He must have dozed off while doing Transfiguration. His parchment barely has anything written on it, and his robes are wrinkled. How pathetic. He hasn't even changed into his nightwear.
"Tempus," he croaks, using his mother's wand to reveal just how past curfew it is.
He clicks his tongue. Why the hell is he still thinking about Easter break? It was weeks ago. It was a bloody mess... After Nagini devoured her fill of flesh, he wasn't attacked. No, she and the Dark Lord Apparated to Merlin knows where. The room was saturated in crimson, dripping with the stench of death. The Death Eaters didn't do anything, except mock them. They treated his parents, treated him worse than house-elves!
He was-- It was--
Draco races to the pitcher of water. Rotten hands, shaking like a madman's. The water spills on the ground before finally filling the glass cup. He chugs the water, anything to soothe his parched throat.
"Ahh..."
Draco stumbles, catching himself on the Slytherin's silk curtains, blankly staring outside. The moon is nowhere to be seen, but a heavy mist covers the parapets of the castle, distinguishable from the dozen of dementors below.
What a disaster.
His hand flinches, nearly dropping the glass cup. He curses, remembering the goblin's final words.
"N-nothing of tr-true value was stolen. Simply a... a s-small golden cup."
What's so bloody important about some cup--
BANG!
"UP! UP! OUT OF BED, ALL OF YOU!"
A Death Eater roars, storming in the Common Room.
"MOVE!" Another shrieks, pointing her wand to the ceiling. Green and red sparks combust, lighting the fireplace a sickly green. Then every room door flies open.
"WAKE UP!" The first Death Eater marches down the halls, "No excuses! No questions!"
First years scramble out of bed as the older students look towards Draco in their confusion. The Death Eater growls, "NOW!!!"
Draco quickly joins the hundreds of feet in the corridors. The Death Eater's orders overpowered the choked gasps and panicking students. Some are barefoot, and others are still in their nightclothes.
Slughorn races to the Slytherin's side, still in his nightcap and pajamas, and shouts, "What is the meaning of this?! What is--"
"Shut up!" The Death Eater dismisses them, then yells, "ALL ARE TO REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY!!!"
Turning the corner, a stream of drowsy Hufflepuffs walk beside them. Once groggy expressions turn into sheer fear. Not long after, the Ravenclaws' stride matching the masses' pace.
"HURRY UP!" a Death Eater yells, blasting curses at the Gryffindors, far behind.
A puny first-year Gryffindor trips, hitting the floor in tears. The Death Eater rolls his eyes and roughly yanks her pink pigtails.
"GO!"
Draco stares but is shoved along inside the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling had a few scattered stars, which barely produced a glow. Then a few candles are lit, giving some light. Naturally, the students divided themselves into their respective Houses. Four lines with completely disheveled students, but no one dares to sit. Whispers overlap with each other, getting louder and louder until the Great Hall becomes the great chaos. Even those pasty Hogwarts ghosts are amongst the mix. Every eye, living and dead, utterly confused beyond belief.
Confused? No, terrified is much more accurate.
At the top center of the Hall, two Death Eaters scan the student body. Almost as if they are searching for something. Suddenly, the figure appears at the center.
The Headmaster.
Unlike the rest of the professors, Snape isn't in nightwear but in a pristine black robe. He slowly gazes callously at all of Hogwarts.
What the hell is--
"Surely, you all are wondering why I have summoned you here at this ungodly hour." His eyes narrow at the Gryffindors. "However, it has come to my attention... Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade."
The Hall voices what Draco is thinking.
Is it true? Has the Boy-Who-Lived, more like Boy-Most-Wanted, returned? But why? Why in the bloody hell would Potter risk going to Hogsmeade? What is there to gain from any of this?
Snape clears his throat. "These rumors are unfounded. However, for some time, we have regarded Mr. Potter’s return as not only possible but also inevitable. Particularly, in returning to Hogwarts." He again scans the stilled bodies. "Thus if anyone present has knowledge regarding Mr. Potter's whereabouts or his intentions, or is aware of any such person bold enough to dare to assist him... I invite them to step forward or confront the consequences. Now!"
The air gets heavier.
Those walls tighten.
It's suffocating.
Even more, Draco couldn't shake the feeling that Snape's gaze is directed at him.
Bold footsteps march forward.
"I think I can help you out with that..." A voice echoes.
That foolishly courageous voice.
Potter's features are clear as he walks into the light. Those stupid green eyes... brimming with the Gryffindor's brash determination.
"You have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster." Then, one by one, figures emerge beside him. Riddle. Granger. The Weasleys. Lupin. Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I’m afraid it’s rather extensive."
Commotion fills the Hall, but it fades from Draco's ears. He can't feel his arms or move his legs. Only his eyes work, drifting to those hesitant Death Eaters who watch Snape with uncertainty.
Potter snarls, narrowing his eyes. "How dare you stand where he stood!" He aims a wand at Snape, not any wand.
Draco's wand.
"Tell them how it was that night. Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you... and killed him. Tell them!"
That night...
He was forcefully shoved aside, and before he could comprehend the situation, a beam of green light flashes dangerously close to his face. All accompanied by Snape's commanding voice, yelling...
"Avada Kedavra!"
Draco curses underneath his breath. He wishes he could forget. Snape is callous as before, but did Snape's eyes just widen when he looked at Potter?
The Headmaster reaches for his wand, but a volcanic blast lights up the Hall. The entire student body burst aside, ramming against the walls. Pivoting the blast, Snape stumbles backward, staring at McGonagall. She leaves him no time to recover, unleashing a barrage of attacks without uttering a single bloody spell. Snape is on the defense, blindly ricocheting spells throughout the room. While deflecting the curses, the fool knocks out some of the bystanding Death Eaters.
Chaos erupts. Draco and the other upperclassmen hoist over the Slytherin tables for cover. Spells shoot past the ceiling as other staff members battle against the Death Eaters. Until Snape is the final one standing. Standing at the center of the hall. He exhales deep in thought, like he is contemplating his next move.
His next move? What next move? He is surrounded with no escape in sight. Snape breathes in and sweeps his wand overhead. The Hall shakes. Each of the torches snuffs into smoke, plunging everything into complete darkness. McGonagall shouts her attack as the stained glass windows shatter.
A gust pushes her back, but she steadies herself, shouting, "Lumos!"
The light turns into a spiraling sphere of flame, bouncing from wick to wick. Vision returns to Draco, and Snape is nowhere in sight.
"Coward! COWARD!" Potter shouts into the void below the glass.
"Settle down." McGonagall places her hand on his shoulder. She guides Potter to face the students.
Though green eyes scan over them all. Then... locks onto Draco. Potter glares, mouthing something Draco just can't make out.
"H-he's re-really gone..." A Hufflepuff stutters in relief.
McGonagall pats Potter's back and smirks, "It appears that your Headmaster, to use the common phrase, has done a bunk."
Then a chorus of cheers erupts from the Gryffindors, spreading to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Draco glances at the color drain from his fellow Slytherins' faces. With Snape gone, with the Death Eaters' bodies scattered about, the power dynamic has shifted out of their favor. Not a shift, but a reshake, leaving them at the bottom of this new hierarchy.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's voice cuts through the chaos, "would you care to explain your presence here, or, more importantly, what your plans are next?"
"What's next? We stand and fight for Hogwarts!" the runt of the Weasley exclaims, igniting roars from the lions.
Potter chuckles turn into coughs as the Hall trembles from a low rumble. He hunches over in pain, clutching his scar.
"Harry!" Riddle screams, rushing to Potter's side.
Cracks form from the trembling, allowing dark mist to rise upwards into the air. The mist transforms into dark clouds swirling and consuming the Enchanted Ceiling whole. A ripping chill sweeps through every faculty member and student, dimming the floating candles. Suddenly, an eerie voice hums into a deathly whisper.
"Ah... So he has returned..."
That voice.
Eyes dart across the Hall. Every nook and every cranny-- there's no telling where the voice is coming from. It's like it's embedded into the very walls of Hogwarts itself.
"Harry Potter's return doesn't bring hope, no, no... It marks you all for..."
Cries echo among the students, some searching around for the source of the Dark Lord and others panicking like madmen. The first years scream, huddling close to each other, with the upperclassmen not faring any better.
"I know many of you are preparing for a fight. However, such efforts are futile. I wish you all no harm... No death shall be made, for I have great respect for those of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. All I ask for is one..."
The Dark Lord's words hang in the deadly air.
"Give me Harry Potter. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded."
Those words cling to Draco's eardrums until the dark clouds dissipate. A speck of light returns to the Hall, and like the millions of stars from above, thousands of eyes turn towards...
Potter.
Pansy shakes as she yells, "There! Potter's there! Somebody grab him!"
Without a second thought, Riddle instinctively aims his wand at her. One by one, members of Potter's alliance rise to defend him.
Hisses escape Riddle's lips. It sounds like a disapproval.
Potter responds with stubborn hisses of his own.
Riddle cuts him off with a longer string of "ssss."
Potter huffs sharply, suddenly vanishing into the sea of Gryffindors.
"Harr--"
"Bloody hell! How dense are you!" Pansy points her wand. "The Dark Lord will spare-- will reward us!!" And all we have to do is bring him Potter! That bloke is already the 'Boy-Who-Lived,' so why do more of us have to die for his life?!" A wall of Slytherins murmur behind her. Several of whom stare at Draco.
Riddle's eye twitches as he dauntlessly advances. "Harry Potter is essential to the Dark Lord's downfall. A reality he is fully aware of, which is why he so adamantly wants Harry captured."
"Shut up, mudblood!" Pansy snaps back. "I'm sure the Dark Lord is willing to give you Potter's body once he is done. Bet that'll satisfy your degenerate needs!"
Magic erupts from Riddle's core, exploding into a swarm of sinister curses. "Oh... Daft, aren't you, Parkison? You shall be indistinguishable from soot once I am through with you."
"Calm down!" McGonagall urges, placing her hand on Riddle's shoulder.
"No way!" Weasley shouts, "Of course, Slytherins are gonna side with You-Know-Who! They always wanted Harry dead, to wreck Hogwarts! What else do you expect from those bloody prats?!"
"I expected more," Riddle answers quietly, though his rage still lingers.
"Ha!" Pansy spats, "What do you know about anything?!"
"I know Slytherins," he says evenly. "Cunning. Ambitious. Insightful. Adaptable. Able to endure, comprehead beyond the moment, even in the most virulent circumstances. Such self-preservation allowed them to flourish for centuries."
Weasley's face enrages red, matching his equally knotted hair. "Yeah, well, if they really cared about bloody 'self-preservation,' then they would fight the bloody Death Eaters!"
"And what?" Riddle's gaze sharpens. "Gaze upon their own mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles as they brutally slaughter them? Poisoned roots have rotted the House of Slytherin. Stemming from the Dark Lord."
The weight of Riddle's words presses in the pit of Draco's stomach, forcing its way back to his throat. He didn't need to look back. He knows. They know. That same sentiment is shared beyond all Slytherins.
Blood... will be shed.
Riddle scoffs, his callous eyes fixated on the House of the Serpents. He wears that same bloody authority he used back with his Knights of Walpurgis.
"Some of you are contemplating. I can see it in your eyes. Such narrow-minded pride has become your generational prison. Do you truly believe your blood is marked by superiority?" Draco silently curses, unable to stop the uncomfortable shifts. "Well, whether it is as pure as Merlin's or as muddy as a Muggle's, in death, all blood shall rot and decay. The time has come for the House of Slytherin to decide its loyalties."
"Loyalties?" Pansy scoffs, "Oh, please! You Gryffindors think you are all SO brave and noble! Such virtuous heroes! Doing everything for the greater good--"
"I don't beg nor lecture to be concerned about a 'greater good'. But this is war. This is survival. What legacy is left once the Dark Lord is in ruins? Once he fails."
"I-I..." Her words die before they reach her lips.
Confusion.
Doubt.
Fear.
Ripples through each House like a muttered rumor. His speech was good, but he knows, as well as Draco, Slytherins aren't the only ones to share those Pure Blood beliefs.
"You... You can't be sure Potter will win," Blaise stammers, but his voice echoes through the tension.
Riddle doesn't respond. His eyes unreadable. Unwavering. Without saying anything, he says everything.
No shred of doubt.
Blaise's eyes widen, and then he points across the Hall. "Then what? What about them?!" His finger at a trembling first-year Gryffindor with the pink pigtails. Her lip quivers, and sobs threaten to break. "Are you so certain you'd bet their lives?!"
"Of course not!" McGonagall strides forward. "No one shall be forced to fight in this war! You are students, not soldiers! There is no cowardice in retreating! But... those who willingly stay and fight do so knowing the cost."
No one forced? It's not like he has a bloody choice.
From behind, Blaise pushes through the sea of green robes and rumpled nightwear. He crosses over to the line of Gryffindors, staring at the crying girl with the pink pigtails.
"Then..." he exhales shakily, while several wands point his way. Blaise kneels and gently wipes the girl's tears with his green sleeve. "Then I'll help with the evacuations."
"What?!" Pansy sputters.
"Pansy..." He gestures to all the underclassmen and to the Slytherins, "Stay if you believe. But this... This is for the best, and you know it. This war-- I can't... I won't..." The Gryffindor girl squeezes his fingers, as if in reassurance. Blaises turns to Draco and sighs, "For Slytherins."
"But--"
"Shut up!" Weasley shouts, harshly, "If ya plan on keeping loyal to Voldemort, then do! But I'll make sure you never--"
"Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall snaps, "As a professor of Hogwarts, I am duty-bound to ensure the safety of all students. However... Miss Parkinson, if you, or any others, are intent on such debauchery..." She pauses. Then, a small smile curls on her lips, "Then the dungeons should do nicely. Mr. Filch, escort them there."
Pansy and other outspoken students attempt to run from the professors' capture spells.
Suddenly, the four Houses disperse.
The line between green, red, blue, and yellow blurs together. All the colors mingle and merge. How... Draco never thought he'd see Slytherins helping Gryffindors or Ravenclaws supporting the Hufflepuffs. Some are still in their nightwear, so Draco couldn't tell whose house they belonged to. Bloody hell, the way they move... It isn't as Slytherins, or Gryffindors, or Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws. It's just as students.
Students of Hogwarts.
The students grouped together for evacuation. First-years holding each other's hands, running and crying. The pink, pigtailed girl glances back.
And... For a moment... She almost looks like...
Judy.
"Go!" Granger shouts, alongside Riddle and the others, refusing to hide their fierceness. Everyone scrambles about, trying to flee or prepare for the invasion.
"Damn, traitors. Every last one of them," Crabbe huffs, gripping Goyle and Draco by the sleeves before they are seen. "Come on, let's get that reward."
One more time.
Harry steps again as the door materializes from nothing. When he steps inside the Room of Requirements, he can't hear anything anymore. Hopefully, he proves Tom wrong and finds the Horcrux by himself. Hopefully, they can manage until then. Hopefully...
Standing in the midst of the towers and the cathedral-like walls and surrounded by mountains of relics. It's overstimulating. Luckily, he had an idea of the layout thanks to Tom sharing his memories. Harry grits his teeth walking past generations of Hogwarts history. Hidden items, priceless treasures, so old they almost feel alive.
"Woah!"
He slips on a narrow rod. Harry lifts his foot to find a very familiar wand. The other half, rolled up against the Vanishing Cabinet's base. Out of all the stupid things Tom could have done to prove a point. Harry sighs, pressing on. His fingers drift against the Vanishing Cabinet. This was how the Death Eaters entered inside last year. It's already been a year.
A year since...
Harry shakes his head.
Now isn't the time. Not when Voldemort is so close to his end.
"Accio Diadem!"
Nothing happens.
He slumps his shoulders, grumbling a curse under his breath. Of course, it isn't going to be that easy. Harry steps forward, practically running now. His own breath echoes in his eardrums. This room is a suffocating labyrinth.
"Ouch!" A spike of pain strikes through his forehead. He traces over his scar, slowing down his pace.
It's close.
A light hum turns into a sweet, sinister song.
So inviting…
So nice...
Did the Locket do the same?
The sound gets louder as he turns into an aisle lined with broken statues.
"Where are you?" Harry hisses in Parseltongue.
Harry shoves aside a stack of rotting spellbooks, causing a crystal vase to tilt over further behind him. It dangles on the tip of a broomstick, swaying back and forth. Those inanimate eyes watch him as he tips over a dusty canister, revealing another stone statue. However, this one is a warlock wearing dingy glasses and a ragged wig. On top is a rusted, discolored tiara...
Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem.
Harry's arm stretches out. Come on, just a little more...
"Hold it, Potter."
The voice behind him cuts through the silence. Harry's hand freezes mid-reach, but he didn't need to turn to know exactly who it is. He looks over his shoulder, not registering Crabbe and Goyle's wands pointing right at him. He only stares at...
"Draco."
His eyes are so... uncertain. When was the last time Harry saw those silver eyes full of confidence, arrogance, and pride? Why does Draco always seem more and more broken every time they meet?
Draco grits his teeth, breaking eye contact first. "You... have something of mine," he gestures to the wand sticking out of Harry's pocket. "I want it back."
"I bet you would," Harry answers lowly, glancing at the diadem before returning to Draco. "Tell you what. I'll give it to you if you answer me this." Harry studies Draco's face, searching for any signs. "Why didn’t you tell her? You knew it was me, but you didn’t say anything."
Draco's lips press into a thin line as his fingers grip his mother's wand. Goyle watches Draco in dreadful confusion, but Crabbe snarls at him in distaste.
"C’mon, Draco! Don’t be a prat. Hex him already! The faster we bring him, Potter, the faster we get rewarded!"
A bitter laugh slips from Harry's lips. There is nothing funny about it, and the diadem is so close.
Draco follows Harry's hand. "Wait... What are you--"
"Wait? Bloody WAIT?!" Crabbe sneers at Draco. “Why the hell are we waiting?! It's three against one!"
Three against one... Maybe Tom was right about him not going alone. He should've brought backup. Tom, Ron, Hermione, maybe even Ginny. Well... Too late now. Harry's eyes lock on to the still swaying vase on the tip of the broomstick. It's about to...
"I said WAIT!" Draco's voice echoes through the room.
"Merlin, Draco! You're so brain-dead! Maybe that's why you an' your dad are finished! I don’t need to take orders from you no more! Ava--”
Draco grabs Crabbe's arm. "Don't kill--"
"Let go of me!" Crabbe jerks his arm free. "The Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, so what’s the difference?!"
"This is!" Harry dramatically shouts. "Now!"
Timed perfectly, the crystal vase topples and crashes into the ground. Goyle and Crabbe whip their heads towards the sound, blasting a barrage of curses. Harry grins, snatching the Diadem.
"Stop!" Draco shoves Crabbe back. "There's no one there!"
"What-"
"Expelliarmus!" Harry aims to disarm Crabbe but gets Goyle instead.Crabbe's face sours, and he stomps his feet.
"Oh ho! You think you're sooo smart, don't ya Potter?! Well, let's see if you can handle the heat!"
Draco's eyes widen in horror. "Don't--"
"FEINDFYRE!!!!"
Flames sprout from the tip of Crabbe's wand, twisting his arm. He flails, trying to point straight, but his wand is out of control. The fire bursts, warping over itself and morphing madly.
"Aguamenti!" Harry yells, hearing Draco's voice joining him. But it's not enough; both their jets of water instantly evaporate.
Crabbe stutters, tumbling backwards and falling on his arse. He drops his wand, and it twirls, sending fire everywhere. The inferno doubles in size, crumbling everything into soot. This fire... It's more intense than when they faced Grindelwald.
It's alive.
"RUN!"
Draco drags the dumbfounded Goyle to the exit with Crabbe scrambling to his feet. The curse splits, transforming into flaming serpents, chimeras, and dragons. The creatures rise and fall.
Rise and fall.
Rise and fall--
"LOOK OUT!"
Draco instantly dodges, pushing Goyle aside, but Crabbe's too slow. Embers lash out, snagging his arm and searing deep within. His clothes disintegrating into ash. Once the flame reaches his skin, burning flesh bakes in the air. The fire constricts around him like a boa swallowing its prey whole.
"Crabbe!" Draco's voice breaks in panic.
There's no time to grieve. Not when towers crash down, igniting the debris into a blazing wall of flames. Harry is completely separated from Draco and Goyle. He coughs, clutching the diadem against his chest, scanning the room for something, anything! The hue is red, those statues turn black with ash, the crystal vase boils, and the broomstick... the broomstick!
He bolts.
Before the fire reaches the handle, Harry leaps on and soars into the air. It's hot, a literal hell. The heat slams into Harry's face, and smoke claws down his throat. He charges, maneuvering through the collapsing towers, dodging the fire curse's attack.
Where are they?!
It can't end like--
Silver meets Green.
There Draco, with his arms around an injured Goyle, standing on a wobbling stack of charred desks. An outstretched hand reaches up. Harry darts to it; he grabs Draco's hand, but the sweat makes Draco slip from his fingers.
Damn it!
Damn it all!
Harry whips the broom hard left, swerving the beasts away from Draco and Goyle. Sweat drips from his forehead, and his pulse pounds in his ears. He needs more power, faster! Harry flies high up, spinning over and over, building momentum. The air is thick and suffocating. The fire curse is marking them as its new prize.
Not today.
Harry bursts straight to Draco and Goyle, swooping underneath their legs. Then their three bodies cram onto a single broomstick.
"Bloody hell!"
A gleam barely shows in the distance. It's the exit! Harry leans forward, pushing harder through the smoke, but they drag back. There's too much weight. The fiery chimera growls, its fangs shooting more flames up. Harry dives low, nearly avoiding the incineration.
His hand loosens.
The diadem falls.
Time slows down...
No!
They're so close to the exit, but the diadem is going to be lost forever.
He can't let it let--
He can't let them--
Oh.
With a simple exhale, he releases his grip. Harry drops off the broom, arms stretched out.
"Potter!!!" Draco screams as the broom speeds both him and Goyle out.
Harry's eyes narrow in on the stupid Horcrux. The metal rusted and tarnished. His fingers close around the curved edge; just a roar of flares lights beneath him. The curse chuckles its hungry flames, ready to consume him whole. Harry's eyes dart back and forth. There has to be another way to--
Black smoke disperses, and Draco shoots toward him, yanking Harry out of the air so tightly it hurts. Through the swirling flames, a narrow path materializes from the smoke. A flame sears Draco's inner left forearm, but he doesn't flinch. Draco pulls the broom hard, steering straight at it. They burst out of the Room of Requirements, crashing off the broom and landing in the corridors.
Draco stumbles, gasping, coughing, and retching the smoke from his lungs. Goyle lies unconscious, face-palming against the wall. Draco must've thrown him out first before...
"You came back for--"
The diadem spins wildly across the ground. Harry rushes, snatching before it could try anything. His eyes narrow at the words etched inside: "Wit Beyond Measure Is Man’s Greatest Treasure." He scoffs, yanking out a vial from his pocket. Harry throws the diadem down, pouring half of the liquid on top. He drives his heel on the tiara, stomping endlessly until the liquid fills every crack.
Horrid screeches tear from the Horcrux. Black mist hisses and bubbles from the jewels. The Horcrux screams in agony and thrashes about. It knows it's dying.
Draco's eyes widen in horror as the Horcrux convulses from the diadem. Its bare-bone existence clings to nothing. Then, with a final ear-piercing scream, the Horcrux withers into nothing.
It's--
The roaring flames of Crabbe's curse prove him wrong. Endless flames blaze towards them. Harry's eyes widen before kicking the metal band back into the Room of Requirement. It explodes in a vortex of flames just as the room reseals itself.
It's over.
The Horcrux is dead.
Harry falls to his knees, gazing at the shattered yet still shimmering gems. That's all that's left of the Ravenclaw's Diadem. Air returns to his lungs while he tries to laugh, but instead he coughs out smoke.
"Thank Merlin. Another Horcrux down."
"Wha... Horcrux? No, a-another?" Draco sputters, staring at Harry like he is mad. "Potter, do you even know what those are? It's an atrocity! It's impossible to--"
"It's not," Harry tosses Draco the small glass vial. Draco tilts the half-gone liquid. His eyes widen, realizing exactly what's inside. Harry chuckles, "Yeah, that does the trick. Luckily, Tom decided to keep some souvenirs from 1942."
Draco sighs in relief. Then uncertainty and dread gloss over those silver eyes once again. But not this time; Harry can't take anymore.
He punches him.
"What the bloody hell, Potter?!" Draco presses his cheek. "I just saved your life!"
"I know! You could have just left me there to die! It would have been better for you if you did! So why? Why did you save me?!"
"I..." He tries to look away, but Harry doesn't let him.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! I am so sick of this! I have no idea what is going on in your stupid boneheaded head! You risk your life to save the Muggles, then you pretend none of that ever happened! You refused to kill Dumbledore but sided with the Death Eaters! You lied to Bellatrix, and yet you refused to go with us! You are always doing this! Always stopping when you are so close! Why are you torturing yourself?!"
"Don't- You don't understand..."
"Then use your stupid bloody words and explain it to me!" Harry steps closer. "You aren't the same Draco I first met, and you can't say that you are! You can't keep--"
"THAT'S RIGHT, I CAN'T!" Draco knocks Harry to the ground. "I didn't choose this; I didn't choose any of this! But what choice do I have? You don't know what it's like, having the Dark Lord infiltrate your home! To claim it has his own! To have him breathe down your bloody neck! Do you honestly think I want this? This?! The last thing my grandfather said to me..." Draco's voice breaks.
"Swear to me. No matter what, you will bring glory to the Malfoy family."
Glory…
Abraxas…
That night, the last night in 1942. That expression on Abraxas's face when he realized Draco was his own flesh and blood. How he almost killed his descendant. Ruined their legacy.
Draco's right.
Harry doesn't know how that feels.
"Draco..."
"All I have done..." He watches his trembling hands. "It was for them. My mother. My father--" his voice falters as he chokes.
The anger Harry had completely deflates. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've--"
A bitter laugh leaves his bruised lips. "Could've what, Potter? Saved me like a damsel in distress? We hate each other. And I..." He pulls his sleeve, revealing a now utterly scorched Dark Mark. "I couldn't ask for-- I couldn't show weakness."
Harry moves before his thoughts.
Draco's eyes widen.
"You aren't weak." Harry hugs him tightly."You never were."
"Let me go," Draco snaps with no real bite. He doesn't even try to shake Harry off.
They stay like that for a moment more, until Harry pulls away.
"I believe this belongs to you," he says, mimicking the words he said in 1942. He places Draco's wand in his palm. "It might have a bit trouble listening to you, but..." Harry squeezes his hand. "I know, you can regain its trust."
"Potter, I..."
"You don't have to say anymore. I used to think you only made all the wrong choices, but I get it now. You never really have a choice. But... don't worry, you'll be free. I'll make sure of it. And whatever daft mistakes you make next, well, that's on you." Harry pulls Draco up to his feet.
"Git."
"There's the Draco I know and love."
Now...
There's only one left.
The final Horcrux.
Harry inhales and exhales, brushing his bangs from his scar. He closes his eyes. They twitch and dart under his eyelids while his scar burns and spasms.
Ignore it.
Harry winces until his consciousness bursts into the other mind. He is a spectator of his current vision.
Voldemort stands in the middle of a desolate but strangely familiar room.
Those peeling walls...
The boarded-up windows...
"My Lord," a voice calls low and desperate.
Lucius Malfoy. Beaten and bruised after some horrid punishment.
"My Lord... please... my son..."
"Your son's death shall be due to his incompetence. Where are the Slytherins?"
"I... Forgive me, my Lord, but wouldn’t it be more... prudent to call off the battle? To seek the boy yourself?"
"Feigning ignorance, Lucius? How beneath you. Desiring the battle to cease in order to find the whereabouts of your miserable son." Voldemort chastised. Suspended in midair, a transparent sphere glitters. A hiss drops low. Voldemort hushes Nagini, "Furthermore, I need not seek Potter. Before the night ends, he shall come to me."
"Of course... yes, my Lord."
Voldemort's gaze stays plaint on the wand in his grasp. A pulsing irritant grazes over his head like an uncontrolled sense of troubling fury building inside.
"Fetch Severus." Lucius' barely mouth opens. "Now. Tell him. I require of him. Go!"
Lucics scampers to his feet, quickly leaving the room. Voldemort resumes his focus on the wand twisting towards another angle. The view exposes the very same rotten wood; it's the--
Another hiss murmurs.
"Ah, Nagini... Soon."
With a sudden gasp, Harry is thrust back into his own consciousness. His eyes jolt open to find Draco staring at him.
"I know where--"
BANG!
The cobblestone trembles, spewing grit from the crevices. Screeches and cries echo through the corridor, and sounds from the raging battle deafen their ears. They broke through Hogwarts' protective barriers.
The Death Eaters are here.
Draco immediately heads to Goyle, hoisting his arm over his shoulder.
"I need to borrow this again!" Harry shouts, yanking Draco's wand from his pocket. He imagines a vivid tomorrow with Tom by his side and… Draco finally free.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A silver stag burst forth from the tip of Draco's wand. Its light illuminates the hall, and it shines, bowing to Harry.
"Find Tom," he hisses in Parseltongue, "Nagini's the last Horcrux. They're hiding in the Shrieking Shack!"
The stag nods, galloping across the pillars, carrying the message within its essence.
"Confringo!"
A Death Eater collapses.
"Expulso!"
Another topples.
"Bombarda!"
The rest succumbs to decimation.
Conserving a shred of grace? Of mercy? Not against these Death Eaters. Three more masked figures dare to approach Tom. He hisses, incapacitating them all with a single jinx.
"Incarcerous!" Tom grits.
He ought to have struck Pansy where she stood. Because of the witless shrew, Harry is completely isolated! How he should have never allowed Harry to depart from his side. Never a--
"Woah, rest your wrist, mate," one of the Weasley twins quips, while transforming the threads of a tapestry into spikes. Then dropping them onto a group of Death Eaters.
"Yeah," the second twin chimes, stunning them before they think to flee, "Save some for the rest of us, will ya?"
"Focus on-- Stupefy!" Granger exclaims, stunning more of the wretched vermin.
"Oi!" Weasley leaps back towards Tom. "Any word from Harry? Where is he--"
The air erupts viciously.
Within a fragment of a moment, a force surges through Tom's core as he subconsciously unleashes a series of charms. Voices of his companions overlay each other, merging into a symphony of shrieks and cries. His vision blurs but returns in an instant. He is half buried within the wreckage's debris. The corridors are mutilated beyond belief. Tom grunts at the weight pressing down on him. However, the thoughts of his fiancé provide him the strength to blast through the rubble.
Granger sways, gesturing towards the three redheaded Weasleys. The ground where the wall had been blown apart. Tom and Granger head closer, only for Granger to gasp in pure horror. She sprints to the fallen figure.
A fallen Weasley.
Lying cradled in his twin brother's arm, completely pliant.
"No... NO!!!" Weasley's voice shatters in pure agony. He desperately grips his brother's shoulders, shouting more. Granger holds Weasley's arm, pulling him back.
A weak, ragged cough escapes from Fred Weasley's lips, mumbling, "hell..."
"Fred!" Both brothers shout in unison. However, their brother's face slackened, returning unresponsive. Weasley's expression twists in horror, and he grasps his brother's hand.
"That..." His eyes flutter open.
"Fred?" His twin barely whispers.
"That was a close one..." he coughs once again, "I'd be a goner if it weren't for that Protection charm..." His eyes find Tom’s with a crooked smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, mate."
Tom scoffs in a delayed sense of relief, "Think nothing of it. It simply isn't your time."
Then the weakened wall further crumbles, forming an enormous fissure. Below, an increasing number of Death Eaters are approaching. Students as well as professors fight valiantly to defend Hogwarts. Tom surveys the area, a foolish hope that he may locate his beloved among the chaos. Suddenly, strips of silver pierce the darkness as a brilliant stag gallops through the air. Its luminescence briefly diverts the Death Eaters' attention, allowing the professors the advantage. The stag notices Tom and leaps towards him, bowing as Harry's sweet voice echoes.
"Nagini's the last Horcrux. They're hiding in the Shrieking Shack!"
Ah. Parseltongue..
"Antlers!? That's Harry!" Weasley exclaims, "Well, what'd he say?"
The Shrieking Shack... Now, why would Harry... Tom pauses for but a moment. "Harry ensured Nagini is the last, and... to regroup in the Great Hall. Gather the others!"
Weasley nods, draping his brother's arm around his neck. The twin shifts alongside the other arm as Tom shifts backwards, retrieving his wand.
"What are you doing?" Granger inquires.
"Providing precautions. A rather potent protection charm, to be exact. It shall also create a pathway for the masses to follow."
"Isn't that--"
"Hermione!" Weasley shouts, pleading for her presence.
Not entirely satisfied, Granger sighs, maintaining a steady gaze on Tom. "Don't forget. If anything happens, I won't hold back. And... be careful." Her face shadows as she turns, joining alongside the Weasleys.
Observant as ever.
Granger undoubtedly realized why Harry's message was in Parseltongue. The Patronus is solely for Tom's ears. Meant to shield Granger and Weasley from shadowing them. Thank Merlin; his fiancé had the sense to notify Tom. However... endangering himself.
How recklessly Gryffinor...
How infuriating...
How unacceptable.
Tom barrels from the stairs, piercing the chaos. Hogwarts has morphed into a war zone. Dense smoke suffocates the corridors as bursts of lights scatter through the center. Death Eaters, masked and unmasked, brawl against students and professors alike. Screams erupt. Curses and jinxes dispel. Blood stains the ground.
"Confringo!" He snarls, striking every last Death Eater in his sight. "To the Great Hall! Now!"
Several students heed his orders, grasping the injured and scattering towards safety.
Out in the courtyard, the sky shatters, pulsing with hues of red and green. The air polluates with smoke, blood, death, and hideous, gruesome cries. The very earth trembles as twisted Magical creatures tear through the ground, roaring as they strike devastations.
"Crucio!"
The curse instinctively surges, almost delighted. His wand of this timeline has cast thousands of curses. It has become accustomed to the ruthless hexes. So familiar, so commonplace. Thus, allowing Tom to navigate through the madness, eliminating one Death Eater after another. Nevertheless, a singular thought consumes his mind...
Harry.
What are the whereabouts of his fiancé? As he arrived ahead? Perhaps merely waiting beneath the cursed tree, or already within the Shrieking Shack? Agitation surges through Tom’s chest, overwhelmingly searing.
Voldemort's reign shall end. Tonight. He shall not dare to lay a finger on his fiancé. Harry will never again experience pain and suffering.
Unadulterated rage fuels Tom's veins, constricting his vision. Until, with a ragged breath, he realizes...The Shrieking Shack.
Nimble as a slithering snake, Tom effortlessly navigates through the Willow tree's roots towards the shack's concealed aperture. Tom valiantly persuades himself Harry is just beyond these walls, waiting for him. He proceeds deeper within until he edges at a small opening.
Harry is nowhere to be seen.
Where is he?! He snarls, curse upon curse, until a voice interrupts his thoughts.
"My Lord, their resistance is crumbling..." Such a dismal voice belonging to none other than Snape.
Tom conceals himself as he gazes through a small crevice that remains between a crate and the wall. There's a dim room beyond. Embers of light emit from the enchanted starry sphere suspended in midair. A Protection Orb. One similar to the imprisonment he once kept Harry in. Within the orb the coiled limbs of...
Nagini.
"Crumbling in absence of your assistance," the wretched creature states, as he uses those vile elongated hands to twist the Elder Wand. “Though a skilled wizard you are, Severus. It makes is no difference now."
"In such case, allow me to find the boy. I shall bring you Potter."
Tom's knuckles whiten around his wand.
Oh, how ignor--
"Oh, how ignorant, Severus. You sound like Lucius," Voldemort ghastly hisses, conveying Tom's exact sentiment. Soon he shall be rid of that past. Voldemort stands, slowly approaching Snape. "Neither of you understands Potter as I do. Understanding his weaknesses. His fatal flaw... See, Harry Potter shall come to me."
Tom resists the urge to maim Voldemort's tongue from his throat. Daring to imply such intimate knowledge concerning his Harry
"My Lord, consider how infuriating the boy is. He may be killed by--"
"My orders are absolute. Capture Potter. Have carnage with the rest, but do not kill him." Voldemort raises the Elder Wand to his crimson eyes, so delicate and precise. "Moreover... I have a problem, Severus."
"My Lord?"
The Elder Wand dangles from his fingertips. "Why doesn’t it work for me?
Snape briefly glances towards the orb, maintaining his hidden gaze. "You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand, my Lord. In the last few--"
"No, I have merely executed my usual magic. For I am extraordinary..."
An extraordinarily arrogant boar.
"Nevertheless, this wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick, the Elder Wand... has not unveiled the marvels it has promised. There had been no distinction between this wand and the one that wretched past has stolen--" Voldemort’s tone shifts, revealing the uncontrollable fury within.
Utterly pathetic.
However, he returns to a forced muse, muttering, "No distinction."
"My Lord, no wand is more powerful. I am confident it shall not fail. It answers to you and you only."
"Does it? Does it truly answer to me?" He questions, his crimson slits flicker at Snape.
"Where, Severus? Where does its loyalty lie?"
"With you, of course, my Lord."
An oppressive silence follows. Both Voldemort and Snape posed impeccably still. The only sound is of the Nagini's swirling and coiling. The Protection orb becomes a cruel reminder of his predisposition. Tom's gaze shifts to Snape's mask of calm composure. However, beneath such surface levels, he observes how Snape's fingers taut with tension.
Voldemort sneers intently, then ends the silence. "The Elder Wand shall not obey while its true master lives," he hisses his "s" deliberately. "Subservient to the wizard who killed its previous master. Such a previous master whose grave I unearthed... Albus Dumbledore."
Voldemort raises the wand, directing it towards Snape’s throat.
"You are an astute man, Severus. Loyal. Devoted. You have been valuable to me. Most valuable, indeed. I regret it."
"My Lord--"
With a swift motion, Voldemort casts a sweeping spell overhead. Alas, the strike had no effect on Snape. Rather, his wand redirects towards... Tom grips at his inner pocket as his vile self-intent becomes evident. The Protection Orb crackles with dark intent as the enchantments surrounding Nagini burst. He hisses in Parseltongue.
"Kill."
Nagini's fangs bare, and she lunges at Snape.
Springing brilliant blue flashes from Tom's Protego charm. Its forcefield blocks the attack, sending Snape backwards. Tom emerges forward with a precise motion; he plunges Harry's Christmas gift into Nagini's left eye.
Her hisses shrill into the air, thrashing violently. She coils and convulses as the fountain pen's ink cartridge depletes into her veins. Her monstrous tail lashes in desperation until her movements falter and she slows. Her body stills. From her eye, ink oozes along with her blood. However, what leaks is not ink.
It's Basilisk's venom.
Tom sighs, his hand trembles everso as caressing Nagini's pristine scales. "Oh Nagini..." his whispers ached with grief. "How beautiful you would have become..."
"You--"
"Let it be known, Snape," Tom snarls, acquiring his wand, "your miserable life shall only end by my beloved Harry."
"Beloved?!" Voldemort seethes, voice saturated with pure revulsion and fury.
"My, my... What an absolutely abhorrent atrocity." Tom sneers. He gestures to Nagini's unfortunate marvelous corpus. "An atrocity with no Horcruxes remaining."
"Horcruxes..." Snape echoes, his eyes widening in unadulterated terror.
"You wretched--" Voldemort unleashes a succession of curses and hexes. Snape evades to the shadows as Tom effortlessly deflects every one of the feeble assaults. A twisted grin spreads across Tom's face, causing the Dark Lord to recoil. How asinine, such attempts to regain any semblance of composure as he lowers his wand.
"Oh, my past... Why adopt such a path? Destroying my Horcruxes and conspiring against me is folly. Don't betray such Divine Right. Don't betray our destiny. The Tom Marvolo Riddle's name shall not be tarnished."
Tom scoffs. Such delusional reasonings, a daft comment which lingers. "I do so because..." Tom leans forward, voice dripping with malicious satisfaction. For his next words shall induce Voldemort into hysteria.
"Albus Dumbledore was correct. Love conquers all."
"LOVE?!"
Voldemort's entire body convulses as he shrieks, a shriek befitting the name of the Shrieking Shack.
"You ingrate!" He spits. Snape dodges as the wooden beam bursts into flames. "Falling for Potter's corruption! Succumbing to such DEGENERATE emotions! I had considered sparing you, but no! I shall ensure the eradication of every last vestige of your pitiful, weak existence!"
"Weak?" Tom hollowly chuckles, "You are merely one-seventh of what I am. Not to worry... Soon you shall be nothing at all."
In an instant, both spells unleash. Two opposing forces collide from brilliant beams. However, Snape's wand fails to obey Tom's will. Despite Voldemort's ill-sovereignty over the Elder Wand, its power is far too immense. Tom requires--
From above, the burning beam topples towards the Dark Lord. The momentary distraction allows Tom the advantage. He binds Voldemort's feet, sending him crashing to the ground. Tom exhales, eyes darkening with pure malice.
"Endless anguish, Harry... my Harry has suffered through your hands." He snarls venomously from each syllable. "Now die like the pathetic mortal you are!"
Tom raises Snape's wand, relishing the moment the expression of terror plastered on Voldemort's face.
How wonderful.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Unforgivable rends the shack, devouring vision with blinding green. Any futile effort to deflect is silenced as the curse propels Voldemort backwards with tremendous force. He crashes through the glass window with a deafening shriek. Glass shards scatter in all directions.
The room silences.
Lord Voldemort is dead. His precious fiancé is free.
A smirk befalls on Tom's lips. Boasting their victory, directing it to Snape while he approaches Voldemort's ruined carcass. His future counterpart lies as a dead rat. Perhaps Tom's new future shall be Snape marching the vermin's lifeless corpus to a horde of Death Eaters, proof of their triumph.Then his and Harry's wedding shall be--
The wood creaks.
"No..." His eyes widen. "It can't be… Avada Kedavra!"
Tom endlessly shouts the incantations, but to no avail. Voldemort cackles as his form rises slowly and deliberately.
Heavy footsteps reverberate outside the room as Harry's familiar voice pierces the silence.
"Tom!"
"Get back, Potter!" Snape shouts, wandlessly blasting Harry back to where he came from.
Tom grips Snape's wand; his expression hardens with icy rage. In return the Dark Lord's eyes glint with a perverted satisfaction towards...
Harry.
It seems you missed one," Voldemort malevolently taunts, voice infused with sadistic delight.
"Ava--"
Voldemort casts a robust blasting charm, followed swiftly by Disapparating. His wretched existence vanishes from the shack. A lingering echo of his sick laughter resonates throughout the room, causing the flames to abruptly extinguish.
It can't be... His deplorable soul is mangled andmutilated beyond recognition. Had they missed a Horcrux? Was Albus mistaken about the others? No... No, they couldn't have. For Voldemort's movements were deranged as he slaughtered Nagini. Each and every one of those Horcruxes is destroyed. It is inconceivable that he still remains--
"A part of his soul latched to..." Snape barely mutters beneath his breath. Something from Snape's tone is telling.
"Snape. What are you--"
"Get away from him!" Harry's voice cracks as he rams Snape to the ground with terrifying force.
"Harry!" Tom firmly holds his fiancé's shoulder before he uses Muggle means to bash in Snape's skull. Instead, Tom cups Harry's cheek. "Harry," he repeats sharply yet gently, "The Killing Curse failed. Voldemort did not die."
Harry's breath hitches. "What?"
Tom's silence only solidified the grim reality.
"That's- That's impossible! His Horcruces are--" Harry's words halt his gaze, which shifts to Snape's wand. "You..." He growls, snatching it from Tom's grasp. "You obviously had a way to protect your master!"
"Potter," Snape says in a lowly tone, stripped of his usual disdain and irritation. His voice rather...somber. "It's time you knew. Albus--"
"Don't you dare speak his name!" Harry snaps, aiming Snape's wand directly between his eyes, "I am not listening to any of your lies! No. I am going to take the truth. LEGILIMENS!!!"
Snape's eyes widen for but a moment. Perhaps baffled or impressed for underestimating Harry's capabilities. However, such previous emotions flicker as his eyes settle, forsaking any signs of resistance.
Harry splits Snape's mind, diving deep into the depths of his memories. Harry’s consciousness falters at the intensity. What is Harry searching for? What is Snape allow him to see? With a strangled gasp, he heaves for air, crashing toward the ground.
"Harry!" Tom instantly lifts his fiancé into his arms as Harry struggles to regain his breath.
"Back when- A part of him- I," Harry stutters incoherently."
"Darling…" Tom furrows his brow in concern; his fingers caresses Harry’s cheek, urging him towards calmness. A swift fit of rage boils in his veins. "Snape, you shall--"
"His last Horcrux is..."
Harry shakes his head, his hands quivering. He brushes aside his bangs, revealing the scar which he has borne throughout his entire life.
"Me."
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, has come to die.
Draco Malfoy, the boy without a choice, finally makes one.
Pages Navigation
Midnight_Reader on Chapter 1 Mon 26 Feb 2024 08:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
That_One_Fan_Girl on Chapter 1 Mon 26 Feb 2024 09:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
That_One_Fan_Girl on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 09:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
FatChoppedSalad on Chapter 1 Mon 26 Feb 2024 09:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Guest (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 26 Feb 2024 11:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
who_in_the_fuck on Chapter 1 Mon 26 Feb 2024 12:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
GiantLizard6 on Chapter 1 Wed 28 Feb 2024 04:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
watercow on Chapter 1 Wed 28 Feb 2024 11:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Mar 2024 08:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
aisha_hx on Chapter 1 Tue 05 Mar 2024 01:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 11 Mar 2024 04:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Khimea on Chapter 1 Mon 18 Mar 2024 05:19PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 25 Mar 2024 02:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
Prim_Ice_Rose on Chapter 1 Thu 21 Mar 2024 03:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 25 Mar 2024 02:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
angelstars (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Apr 2024 11:33PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 15 Apr 2024 05:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
Angelstars (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 15 Apr 2024 11:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Sun 21 Apr 2024 05:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
BerryShrooms on Chapter 1 Sun 21 Apr 2024 07:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 29 Apr 2024 03:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
hzy_hdl on Chapter 1 Sun 16 Jun 2024 10:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Mon 01 Jul 2024 03:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Kebeleksev on Chapter 1 Wed 31 Jul 2024 03:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Fri 16 Aug 2024 05:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
letra (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 03 Nov 2024 02:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Wed 27 Nov 2024 08:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
DraconiumWolf on Chapter 1 Tue 27 May 2025 04:09AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 1 Thu 26 Jun 2025 08:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
Midnight_Reader on Chapter 2 Mon 04 Mar 2024 09:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 2 Mon 11 Mar 2024 04:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
(Previous comment deleted.)
SynError on Chapter 2 Mon 11 Mar 2024 04:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
mochi213 on Chapter 2 Mon 04 Mar 2024 11:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 2 Mon 11 Mar 2024 04:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
Azs (Guest) on Chapter 2 Mon 04 Mar 2024 01:01PM UTC
Comment Actions
SynError on Chapter 2 Mon 11 Mar 2024 04:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation