The Darkening of Your Soul

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/22230682.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Underage
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry
Potter/Voldemort
Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, Luna Lovegood, Albus
Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Blaise
Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Ernie
Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Tracey Davis (Harry Potter), Susan
Bones, Hannah Abbott, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin,
Kreacher (Harry Potter), Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Minerva
McGonagall, Bartemius Crouch Jr.
Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate
Universe - Time Travel, Do-Over, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Eventual Smut,
Eventual Happy Ending, Master of Death Harry Potter, Bottom Harry,
Morally Grey Harry Potter, Consensual Underage Sex, eventually, Sane
Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Top Tom Riddle, Idiots in Love,
Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a
Brat, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, BAMF Neville Longbottom,
Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, No character bashing, BAMF
Luna Lovegood, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, Manipulative Albus
Dumbledore, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Angst and Humor, Maybe
some character bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter, Good Slytherins,
Slytherins Being Slytherins, Oblivious Harry Potter, Sane Voldemort
(Harry Potter), Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Harry Potter
is the Heir to the House of Black, POV Harry Potter, Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, do not
copy story to another website
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of The Darkening of Your Soul
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Published: 2020-01-12 Updated: 2023-03-20 Words: 260,498 Chapters:

56/?
 The Darkening of Your Soul
by Maeglin_Yedi

Summary

Harry is betrayed. Harry gets a second chance to do it all over again.

There is just one catch. If Harry gets to keep his memories from his previous life, so does
Voldemort.

Notes
See the end of the work for notes
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

The time-travel fix-it do-over is one of my favourite tropes and I’ve long wanted to
write one for myself. I got this idea and decided to give it a go. I promise nothing in
terms of updates. Read at your own risk.

This will be a Harry as close to canon as I can write him. No fifteen Gringott’s vaults,
with thirty lordships and a harem of lovers. No super powers with eight animagus forms.
No five magical pets. No character bashing. Okay, maybe a little Dumbledore bashing
but that’s it, I swear.

Just a good but flawed young wizard trying to live his best life while trying not to piss
off the Dark Lord too much. How successful he is at any of this remains to be seen.

“Betrayal doesn’t only break your heart but also darkens your soul. You’ll never forget the
pain like a fog that forever lingers in the depths of your mind.”
Unknown

Chapter 1

The betrayal, when it happened, blindsided Harry worse than any bludger on the Quidditch
pitch had ever done. He wasn’t expecting it, wasn’t prepared for it, could barely even believe
it.

The war was over. The enemy was defeated. Harry had fulfilled the prophecy and was finally
able to live the life he wanted to live, away from fame and from unreasonable expectations
from a terrified public looking to a mere teenager for salvation.

At least, in theory, Harry was free to do what he wanted. The press still hounded him and
wrote ridiculous articles about him, everything from questioning his decision to spend his
summer at Hogwarts helping to rebuild to making up illicit affairs between Harry and just
about every witch and wizard that Harry was even remotely in contact with and some he’d
never even met before. But Harry didn’t let that bother him, used to all that kind of unwanted
attention by now. He spent his days working with Hermione and Professor Flitwick and many
others to repair the damage to their beloved school. And at night he slept in the comfort and
safety of Gryffindor Tower.

Ron had opted to join the Auror force a week after the final battle, when Kingsley as the
brand new Minister for Magic had offered the positions to Ron and Harry both. Harry had
declined, though. Yes, he still believed he might want to be an Auror, but first he needed a
break after the year they’d had. So Harry decided to do as Hermione was planning to do and
return to Hogwarts for another year to sit his NEWTs. After that he could always join the
Auror department. Harry was pretty sure they wouldn’t refuse him, no matter his NEWT
scores.

A week before his birthday Harry received an owl from Kingsley asking him to come to the
Ministry. There were a few things that needed clearing up and since Harry had not yet given
any official statements to anyone, Kingsley suggested they take care of that at the same time.
Like a fool, Harry didn’t question any of this, especially after he showed the letter to
Hermione and she assured him it was probably just a routine interview for their records.

And like an even bigger fool, Harry went to the Ministry the next day at the appointed time
and walked right into a wall of Aurors. He was hit point blank by at least five stunners before
he could even get his wand out of his pocket.

Harry woke up in a cell, white walls all around him with a solid white door without a knob.
No windows of any kind, just basic metal furniture. A bed with a thin mattress and a
threadbare blanket, a table and single chair and in the corner a toilet with a small sink above
it without a mirror.

Gaping at his surroundings, Harry slowly sat up. “Hello?”

No reply.

Harry swallowed, cold sweat breaking out over his entire body. He was in a Ministry holding
cell and he had no idea why. “What’s going on? Kingsley? Anyone?” Harry walked up and
down the cell, banged on the door a few times, but no reply followed and no one came to
explain anything to him. Harry patted himself down thoroughly but anything useful he’d had
on his person was missing. His wand, his mokeskin pouch he still kept around his neck, a
handful of Galleons he kept in the pocket of his jeans in case he wanted to walk to
Hogsmeade for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron or a bar of chocolate from Honeydukes.

After pacing for what felt like hours, Harry sat down on the bed with a weary sigh. Were the
Death Eaters back in charge at the Ministry? Lucius Malfoy was back in Azkaban after a
short trial, and many others like Yaxley, the Carrows and the Lestranges had died during the
final battle. But Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were free to do what they wanted after Harry had
spoken on their behalf during their trial. He owed Narcissa a life-debt. It seemed like the
decent thing to do, but now Harry wondered if it had been the naive thing to do and he’d
given them an opening to get their revenge on him somehow.

Simple toiletries and meals appeared at set times. Porridge for breakfast, a ham or cheese
sandwich for lunch, and a plate of potatoes, carrots and a piece of dry chicken for dinner.
Even though he was suspicious at first, Harry did eat the food provided. He knew all too well
from his time at the Dursleys and from living in a tent for almost a year with minimum
preparation that not eating when food was provided was a very silly thing to do. He didn’t
know what was coming. He needed his strength. He spent the days pacing and the nights
sleeping as best he could, calling out every so often but no one ever answered and no one
ever came.
After what Harry guessed from the amount of meals he’d had was about a week, the door
finally opened. Harry sprang up from the bed as he’d only just woken up. But before he could
utter a word a tall Auror hit him with a silencing spell. Moments later heavy metal manacles
closed around his wrists and ankles, thick chains binding them together. Harry was yanked
unceremoniously out of the cell, through a short corridor and into a large, familiar chamber
filled to the brink with wizards and witches.

This was the courtroom where Harry had his hearing for underage magic right before his fifth
year. The Auror all but dragged him to the big, wooden chair in the middle of the floor,
pushed him into it and attached the chains to it with a flick of his wand.

Harry looked around desperately, trying to call out but his voice was gone. He was on trial?
Why? What the fuck was going on?

The noise around him was deafening. People all around the room, both the visitors in the
viewing seats as well as the members of the Wizengamot were letting their confusion and
displeasure known vocally and loudly. Most seemed to be outraged to see their hero in chains
and demanded to know what was going on, Harry was relieved to note. Maybe, whatever was
happening, was just a misunderstanding and he’d be freed soon.

Then he remembered Sirius and all the miscarriages of justice that man had faced and
suddenly Harry wasn’t too sure if he’d ever see daylight again. Sirius had been completely
innocent and had rotted in Azkaban for thirteen years before managing to escape, only to die
a few years later, still a wanted man.

Harry was innocent as well, as far as he knew, but that knowledge did little to calm his racing
heart.

He looked around again and saw Augusta Longbottom and Narcissa Malfoy sitting amongst
the members. Draco Malfoy sat pale-faced among the viewing public, while a few rows
above him Harry spotted Neville, Luna, Seamus and Dean. All were looking shell-shocked at
seeing Harry in chains. But they were not who Harry wanted, needed to see. No matter how
hard he looked, though, he couldn’t find Ron and Hermione anywhere in the crowd.

A horrible thought occurred to Harry. Were Ron and Hermione arrested as well? Was that
why they weren’t there? He couldn’t imagine someone like Hermione doing nothing while
her best friend was wrongfully arrested. Look at how far she’d gone to help Hagrid with
Buckbeak’s defence back in third year. No, the Hermione he knew would do anything to
prevent her friend from becoming a victim of the ministry’s incompetence.

“Quiet down,” a voice called around the room. Percy Weasley appeared, holding several
scrolls and quills. “All rise for the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Kingsley appeared in purple ceremonial robes while around them everyone got to their feet.
Kingsley quickly waved them down again. “My fellow witches and wizards. I have called
you here for the trial of Harry James Potter for treason against the Wizarding World.”

The noise, which had quieted for a moment, returned tenfold as people called out demanding
an explanation. Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared at Kingsley in disbelief.
Raising both hands, Kingsley managed to quiet the room somewhat. “The ministry received a
time-delayed letter from Albus Dumbledore, charmed to be delivered one month after the
defeat of Lord Voldemort to whomever was in function as the Minister for Magic. I will read
this letter out loud now.”

As Percy handed a piece of parchment to Kingsley, the people had gone so quiet you could
hear a pin drop. Kingsley unrolled the parchment and cleared his throat. “To whom it may
concern. I write to you to ensure that Lord Voldemort will never return again. In order to
accomplish this, Harry Potter must die.”

Harry screamed in protest, but no sound escaped him. He had died! He had walked to his
fucking death!

“Lord Voldemort achieved immortality by using extremely dark magic to split his soul. On
the tragic night of the Potters’ murders, Lord Voldemort hit young Harry Potter with a killing
curse. But because of sacrificial magic made possible by Lily Potter’s death, the killing curse
backfired on Lord Voldemort, destroying his body and tearing his already damaged soul until
a sliver broke off and attached itself to young Harry. Because Harry was still an infant, with
an underdeveloped soul of his own, Voldemort’s soul sliver merged with his, becoming one
new soul.”

Kingsley had to stop reading for a moment as the shouting became overwhelming again.
Harry noticed that the tone was shifting. No longer were most voices calling out in his
support.

“I instructed Harry to sacrifice himself and I am sure I guided him enough in his lifetime that
he willingly did so. But Harry has an uncanny ability to survive the most remarkable
situations, so I am writing this letter to you to ensure Harry remains dead. For their merged
souls to die, Harry’s body must be destroyed. If Harry is allowed to live, he can be used to
bring back Lord Voldemort. I deeply regret it has to come to this, and I urge you to examine
Harry yourself as I have examined him myself many times. I told Harry that the soul sliver
could be removed by Voldemort’s killing curse, but I only did so to ensure Harry would
sacrifice himself while having hope of surviving against all odds. In truth, survival for Harry
Potter isn’t possible if we are to ensure Lord Voldemort never rises again.”

Kingsley folded the parchment and placed it on the bench in front of him. “The Department
of Mysteries has examined Mr Potter when we first apprehended him and they have
confirmed everything Dumbledore wrote. I have also personally spoken to Dumbledore’s
portrait at Hogwarts and it, too confirmed the truth of these words. We have a few witnesses
to add to this case. I call Hermione Granger to the stand to testify.”

Hermione wouldn’t look at him as she sat down in the allocated witness seat. Harry stared at
her desperately, his cheeks wet as he willed Hermione to come up with a solution, to save the
day, but Hermione wouldn’t look at him.

“Ms Granger, has Mr Potter told you at any time that he housed a piece of Voldemort’s soul
in his body?” Kingsley asked, his deep voice not calming as usual but hard and demanding.

Hermione gave a tiny nod. “Yes. But he sacrificed himself –

“Irrelevant, as per the Department of Mysteries’ conclusions. Thank you, Ms Granger. We
call Ronald Weasley to testify.”

Ron looked starkly pale under his freckles and gulped visibly as he took Hermione’s seat.
Contrary to Hermione, Ron wouldn’t stop staring at Harry, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Mr Weasley, has Mr Potter told you at any time that he housed a piece of Voldemort’s soul
in his body?”

Ron opened his mouth but no sound came out so he cleared his throat. “Yeah, he did a few
times.”

“This is bollocks,” Neville shouted from the stands as he stood waving his fist at Ron. “You
traitor, is that how you repay your friend? Harry is a good guy, the best, and you all –“ The
world would never know what Neville wanted to say because a nearby Auror stunned him
and levitated him out of the room. Luna was looking between Harry and Neville with both
hands clapped over her mouth in shock.

When Harry looked back to the stand beside the Minister, Ron was gone and Ginny sat in his
place.

“Miss Weasley,” Kingsley said, having ignored all the commotion to continue the trial. “Have
you and Mr Potter ever discussed his feelings towards Lord Voldemort and has Mr Potter
ever expressed any positive ideas or feelings towards the Dark Lord?”

Ginny nodded with a little sigh. She looked far less shocked than both Ron and Hermione
had done. “Yes, in his sixth year. Harry told me several times he found Tom Riddle, that was
who Voldemort was before he mutilated himself, very handsome. He also told me he thought
Tom Riddle deserved a second chance.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of voices, most calling for Harry’s immediate death. Harry
tried to jump up as well but the chains kept him in place.

He had not said those things, not like that. Yes, he thought Tom Riddle was handsome,
because he had eyes. Most people who saw Tom Riddle would call him handsome. As for
giving Tom Riddle a second chance, Harry had sympathized with an eleven-year-old Riddle
he’d seen in Dumbledore’s memories. Harry knew what growing up unwanted and unloved
felt like, and he was pissed at Dumbledore for how he’d written off a child for trying to stay
alive in a hateful environment. That didn’t mean he wanted Lord fucking Voldemort to come
back, and Ginny knew this. She’d even agreed with him.

But Harry could not defend himself, could not explain, and the damage was done. Ginny left
the stand without a backwards glance and Kingsley called the room to order. “We will now
vote to put the wizard known as Harry James Potter to death by pushing him through the Veil
in the Department of Mysteries immediately following this trial. All in favour, raise your
wands.”

All around them, wands were held up and Harry could see at once that the vast majority
voted for his immediate death. Augusta Longbottom kept her wand down, and surprisingly,
so did Narcissa Malfoy.

Kingsley did a quick count and called out, “And so it has been decided that Harry James
Potter will be put to death at once. Aurors, escort him to the Veil.”

Harry looked towards the stands. Draco Malfoy looked green and ready to pass out. Luna had
tears streaming down her face as she shook her head in denial over and over again. Seamus
was staring at the floor while Dean had his face buried in his hands.

Two Aurors hauled Harry roughly to his feet, but his legs could barely support him. He was
numb, inside and out, unable to comprehend what was happening. The Aurors dragged him
towards the entrance of the Department of Mysteries where two cloaked and hooded figures
escorted them inside and through the labyrinth of doors and hallways. Kingsley and Percy
and a few other officials followed them.

Harry had no time to be afraid. He barely had time to understand what was going on. The
only thing he heard was the clanking of his chains and the heavy, uneven breaths he took, and
a little later, the voices whispering at him from behind the veil.

“Push him through,” Kingsley said without much emotion, and before Harry could pull away,
before he could use his legs to stop them from dragging him towards the veil, the two Aurors
holding him up by the arms pushed him forward.

Harry stumbled, fell and disappeared through the fabric, which didn’t feel like fabric at all
but like an icy gust of wind. Everything was dark, and then everything was light. His arms
and legs were free, his body no longer numb, and Harry looked around and instantly
recognized the ghostly version of King’s Cross station he’d visited once before.

“Hello, young master,” a dark voice said from behind him.

Harry whirled around and stared at the tall figure. He, though maybe it was more appropriate,
was made up of shadows given life, black and always reaching to envelop more and more
light around it, yet never growing any bigger at all. The living shadows took on the shape of a
hooded man, towering at least two feet over Harry. Even though no eyes, or any part of a
face, was visible, Harry still felt a cold gaze on him.

“Death,” Harry said, since that seemed the most logical conclusion. “Hi.”

A raspy chuckle came from within the living shadows that formed the hood. “Back so soon?”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, apparently Dumbledore wanted me really dead all along.” Rage filled
Harry while only moments earlier he hadn’t felt much at all. He glanced around, hoping to
find the old man as he had done the last time he was there. “He’s not here? I’d like to strangle
him with his own beard.”

“No,” Death said, voice at once both deep yet ethereal. “The last time, Fate snuck him in
without my knowledge.”
“Why did Dumbledore give me this whole speech to go back when he wanted me dead?”
Almost before Harry finished asking the question, he knew the answer. “To finish the job, of
course. I would make sure Voldemort died and then Dumbledore’s fucking letter would make
sure I was killed a month later.” Harry looked up at Death with pleading eyes. “Is that even
true, about Voldemort’s soul merging with my own?”

“It is true,” Death said without much concern, as if he hadn’t just pulled the rug out from
under Harry’s entire existence.

Harry sat down heavily on the white bench behind him. This was just too much to think
about. It made Harry’s head spin. “So instead of housing Voldemort’s temporary horcrux, I
am his permanent horcrux.”

“In essence, yes. All of your soul and a small part of his have grown to become one new soul
together.”

“Then how did he die if I was keeping him alive? And how did I live when the horcrux inside
of me wasn’t destroyed when I came here the first time. And who was that ugly baby thing
under the bench?”

“The soul fragment you found under the bench belonged to a different horcrux. The cup, I
believe, which had only been destroyed a few hours earlier. As for why Voldemort died and
you lived, the answer is simple. It happened because you wanted it to.” The look Death gave
him, even though Harry couldn’t see it, felt like an amused one.

“Huh?” Harry on the other hand felt mostly confused.

“You are the Master of Death. You have the power to decide these things. You want
Voldemort dead even though your own soul ties him to the world of the living, then it shall be
done,” Death explained patiently, but still with an amused air about him.

Harry was very glad he was sitting down because this was a lot to take in. “Does any of this
even matter anymore?” Harry wondered aloud. “I’m dead. Not much to be done about that.”

“Have you not been listening, young master? If you will it, a lot can be done,” Death told him
in a firm but not unkind voice.

“Like what?” Harry asked, just a little bit hysterically. “Because if I go back and walk out of
that veil, people are going to be very upset and throw me right back in it again.” Harry
thought for a second and shuddered. “Or feed me to a dementor.”

“You can go back earlier,” Death said calmly, as if any of this even made any sense. Harry
was half convinced he was having a fever dream or something.

“Earlier?” Harry asked, remembering eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. If he could go back to

Tom’s childhood... “How much earlier?”

“It is unwise to return to before you were born, young master. Reality would stand a real
chance of breaking.”
“Yeah, all right, that sounds bad,” Harry agreed, though not without some degree of
disappointment. He thought for some moments longer. “If I went back to say my first year,
would I keep my memories?”

“You would,” Death said and then added, “And so would the other part of your soul.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “The other part of my soul? You mean Voldemort? He would get his
memories back as well?”

Death nodded, and Harry was tempted to jump up and loudly refuse to even consider that.
Because it seemed like a crazy idea.

Unleashing Voldemort, with the memories of his defeat and how to avoid that, back unto the
world? Madness. Utter, utter madness.

Then again, what had the fucking world ever done for Harry Potter? Save for the first year of
his existence, Harry had been hated and ridiculed and worshipped and discarded and
hurt...he’d been hurt over and over again. So maybe the world deserved to get Voldemort
back, to be hurt in return.

But no. Harry shook his head. He wasn’t that cruel, no matter how much the world had
fucked him over all the way to his execution. So Voldemort was out. But Tom Riddle had
potential. But what distinguished between Voldemort and Tom Riddle?

That was easy enough. A soul. A complete soul.

“I have questions,” Harry whispered, his mind reeling under all the plans and plots it was
coming up with. Death nodded, so Harry carried on. “You say I can decide if I live or die,
right? So I’m essentially immortal, right?”

Death gave another nod.

“Good. I’m Voldemort’s permanent horcrux, so as long as I live he will live, right?”

“As long as you will it, yes,” Death said while inclining his hood.

“And can you return Voldemort’s complete soul to him when you give him back his
memories?”

Death straightened a little. “His soul is still scattered.” Death indicated the vast white station
around them with a formless shadowy hand. “If you collect the pieces I can put them back.”

“I’ll get right to that.” Harry jumped up and ran down the benches. It didn’t take long until he
heard a pathetic whimpering, strangely familiar yet tugging at Harry’s heart. Or should that
be his soul? Mutilated baby Tom was lying under a bench and stared at him with weary eyes.

“No need to be scared, Tom,” Harry said as he gently picked up the baby and held it against
his chest. “We’re getting a second chance, you and me both. You’ll have your full soul and
I’m your horcrux and I’ll keep us both alive for as long as it takes for us both to lead full,
happy lives without meddling headmasters.”
Harry didn’t know for how long he walked around the ghostly station. Time seemed of little
meaning. Harry’s body never grew hungry or tired, and he kept up a stream of reassurances
and promises of a bright future at every little mutilated Tom baby he found. He had four so
far, and he held them all in his arms squashed together, but none complained. All watched
him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

The next Tom he found wasn’t a baby, but a child, maybe seven or eight years old. His skin
looked waxen and his eyes sunken as though he suffered some terrible illness.

“I know you,” child Tom said.

“We share a soul,” Harry said and handed child Tom one of the mutilated babies. “Here, hold
this one. We’ve got one more of you to find.” Child Tom accepted the other soul piece and
followed him quietly. Harry thought he might be the piece that had resided in the Gaunt ring,
the second biggest piece of soul Voldemort had turned into a horcrux.

Which meant that the last one would be the biggest piece.

Teenage Tom looked sullen and sick and so very, very suspicious when Harry and all the little
Toms approached him.

“Hi, Tom,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Don’t call me that,” Teenage Tom snapped and then gave Harry a look up and down. “Who
are you? Do I know you? You seem familiar.”

“We share a soul,” Harry told him, because saying it out loud helped him accept it. A part of
Voldemort, of Tom Riddle, was part of himself now and that wasn’t going to change anytime
soon. “Death, I’ve got them all,” he yelled into the station, earning a confused look from
teenage Tom and a curious one from child Tom.

“So I see, young master,” Death said as he materialized from nothing right beside Harry.
Teenage Tom jumped about a foot in the air and rushed behind Harry while the mutilated
baby Toms started wailing. Child Tom had fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“When I go back, will I remain Master of Death?” Harry asked, holding the mutilated babies
a little closer to comfort them.

“Yes, as long as no other unites all three Hallows you shall remain my master.”

And that was all Harry needed to know. “Death, could you please put these pieces back into
Tom’s main soul? And I’d like to go back to the day my Hogwarts letter arrived. Thanks.”
Harry pushed the three babies left in his own embrace into teenage Tom’s arms, who
struggled to hold them all.

“As you will it, young master, so shall it be done.” And Death touched one formless finger to
Harry’s forehead, and Harry fell backwards into nothing at all.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Summary

Harry has doubts, does some thinking, makes some decisions, goes to Diagon Alley and
bribes some people.

The moment Harry woke up in a too small body inside the cupboard under the stairs, he
started doubting. Everything had seemed so simple, so reasonable when he was dead. Now,
back in the land of the living, Harry felt the weight of his decisions crushing him.

What was he thinking, giving Voldemort his memories and his soul back. There was no
guarantee that this changed anything in terms of Voldemort’s motivations. Yes, Harry could
relate to an 11-year-old Tom Riddle, but he reminded himself that a teenage Tom Riddle,
before he ever split his soul, was already manipulative, greedy, a thief and a liar and most
certainly capable of murder.

So what had Harry created by giving the Dark Lord back his sanity?

Then again, according to Death, Harry could simply want Voldemort to die and it shall be
done. So he had that failsafe to fall back on should things really go wrong. If Voldemort
proved as unreasonable as before. But Harry didn’t think he would be.

To be perfectly honest, Harry was curious what would become of an adult Tom Riddle with
his soul intact and memories of his defeat and death fresh in his mind. Is it any wonder that
Harry wanted to see this, when a part of himself was once a part of Voldemort? Harry didn’t
think so. He made himself no illusions that Tom Riddle would suddenly turn ‘good’,
whatever that even meant. People would get hurt, people would die, the world would change.

But perhaps the world needed to change. The wizarding world, for all that Harry loved it and
considered it his home, was a mess. It could use someone sweeping through it to clean it up.
And Harry believed he would at least be able to reason with this new and improved
Voldemort to abandon the ideas of muggleborn registration committees and the like.

Aunt Petunia’s steps echoed through the cupboard as she descended the stairs, sending both
feelings of nostalgia and an ingrained sense of dread through Harry. He really hadn’t planned
this through, had he? Now he was stuck at the Dursleys again, who knows for how long,
when he’d only escaped them for good last year.

If Gryffindor had house words, they would be: ‘We do not plan’, Harry mused as he tuned
out Petunia’s chatter about breakfast while he climbed out of the cupboard. He got breakfast
started with an ease that didn’t even surprise him. He’d spent years cooking for his relatives,
after all, to the point that getting the frying pans and bacon, eggs and butter had become so
routine Harry could do it blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.

His Hogwarts letter would come that day, and Harry knew what he wanted to change about
that situation. Beyond that, Harry wasn’t sure. He’d give it some more thought as the day
progressed.

Sometimes, Harry truly cursed his impulsive mind. Why couldn’t he have gotten some of
Tom’s calculating cleverness when he got some of the man’s soul? Hermione and her
extraordinary ability to plan everything would have been a great help, too, right about now.
But thinking about Hermione sent a sharp stab through Harry’s chest. Oh, he understood why
Hermione had done what she did on the stand. She’d always had great respect for authority
and she had told no lies.

Yet, Harry expected more of her. Ron had proven himself an untrustworthy friend over the
years, shunning Harry at the drop of a hat, abandoning him when Harry needed him most.
And Ginny... aside from her incredibly traumatic experiences with a piece of Tom Riddle’s
soul, the same soul that is part of Harry’s own, Ginny hadn’t talked to him since Harry turned
her down a week after the final battle. He cared for her, liked her better than he did most
people, but after all he’d been through, Harry needed peace and quiet in his mind and his
body and his heart, at least for a while. Ginny hadn’t taken it well, and she had a vindictive
streak a mile wide, so Harry wasn’t surprised by what she had done. Hurt, tremendously, but
not surprised.

But Hermione... he had expected so much more, so much better from her. Hermione had been
his friend through everything, had never abandoned him, even when the whole world was
against him, when the man Hermione loved had left them, Hermione had stood by his side,
the best friend he’d ever had. Yet she had given no more than a token objection during his
trial and barely even that.

Oh, Harry could see it. He’d spent a week in a cell, a week where everyone would have given
it their all to convince Hermione and Ron and perhaps all of the Weasleys of what needed to
be done with Harry. Hermione would have protested at first, with volume and conviction, but
with Kingsley and Percy and Dumbledore’s letter and portrait and perhaps even McGonagall
and a handful of Unspeakables bearing down on her, Hermione would have eventually
understood why they wanted Harry dead. She wouldn’t have liked it, she would’ve cried
heartfelt tears, but she would have stopped protesting.

Yes, Harry could see how it happened, he understood how she would have stood back to let
the world kill him, but it still hurt more than anything had ever done before.

This betrayal of Ron, Ginny and especially Hermione went bone-deep. No, it went soul-deep.
It tore at his soul the way multiple cold-blooded murders had torn at Tom Riddle’s soul. And
Harry knew, that no matter he understood perfectly, he would never be able to trust Ron,
Hermione or Ginny ever again. Would never call them friends again.

His soul was too battered, too broken for that, and they were the ones to damage it.

“Boy, get the mail!” Vernon snapped.

Harry was so lost in thought he almost missed it. “Yes, Uncle Vernon,” he whispered, wiped
his hands on a towel and hurried inside the hallway. There, on the mat, beneath a bill and a
postcard, lay his Hogwarts letter. Harry quickly stuffed it in the pocket of his oversized jeans
and walked back inside the kitchen, handed the bill and postcard to Vernon and started the
dishes. No one paid him any mind as they babbled about Marge’s sudden illness.

Vernon left for work, Dudley took off to terrorize the neighbourhood, and Petunia went into
the bathroom to take a shower. Harry quickly helped himself to Petunia’s purse and took a
fifty pound bill from her wallet. Then he grabbed a notepad from Vernon’s desk and wrote a
quick note.

‘Aunt Petunia, I received my Hogwarts letter and I’ve gone to London to buy my supplies.
I’ll pay you back the 50 pounds I’ve borrowed this evening when I’ll get back. I’ll have
dinner in London. Harry.’

He left the note on the kitchen table and walked out the door. He turned left towards the train
station, about an hour’s walk away, but it was still early and Harry didn’t mind walking for a
while. It gave him time to think and, hopefully, to plan.

His first, very impulsive, idea was to run away from the Dursleys and never return. But Harry
liked to think he was old and wise enough to realize this was an unrealistic idea. For the most
part because Dumbledore wanted him at the Dursleys and what Dumbledore wanted,
Dumbledore got. Harry made himself no illusions that Dumbledore was the one with all the
power right then and there. Magical power and political power. In most people’s eyes the
man could do no wrong. Only the prejudiced pureblood faction hated his guts, but they were
a minority.

While Harry was famous for something he didn’t do, and a beloved public figure even though
nobody had seen him in public in a decade and none of these people knew him, he had no
political power. To the public, he was a child to be adored, certainly, but also to be ignored.
At least for the next few years.

Going up against Dumbledore publicly now was suicide, figuratively and literally, as
Dumbledore had proven quite capable of ordering Harry’s execution, even from beyond the
grave.

It was a very strange thing to contemplate, but right then Dumbledore, far more than
Voldemort, was his enemy. Dumbledore truly wanted him dead. Perhaps not right away, but
down the line, after he’d conveniently vanquished Voldemort, Dumbledore would see Harry
dead once and for all.

So, it was in Harry’s best interest to fly below Dumbledore’s radar at least for a few years,
until he was older and able to build up some political capital for himself. Or until Voldemort
came to power and Harry could make a deal with him, but that needed very careful planning
and Harry put that aside for later consideration. For now, Harry needed to play the part of an
enthusiastic yet ignorant child and that meant staying at the Dursleys at least this summer, but
probably for a few more years to come. That meant coming to an agreement with them so
they would leave him alone while he was there. They would never do such a thing out of the
goodness of their hearts, but they were greedy people and Harry had a vault full of gold.
Yes, after some consideration Harry decided that the easiest way to deal with the Dursleys
was to bribe them. Harry couldn’t wait to see the look on Vernon’s face when he offered the
man money. But that would have to wait until later. For now, Harry got a train ticket to
London, splurged on a can of cola and a Mars bar since he’d barely had breakfast, and quietly
sat next to an older gentleman reading a newspaper as the train took them to London.

During his walk from the train station towards the Leaky Cauldron Harry came across a
department store with huge sale signs in the windows and he decided to see if he could buy at
least a t-shirt and some jeans that fit, so he’d look a little more presentable his first time in
Diagon Alley. He had no intention of anyone finding out who he was, but even then looking a
bit more put together than an urchin dressed in oversized rags would serve him well.

He told the sales assistant some happy little story about his mother shopping in a different
area of the store but allowing him to buy some clothes for himself because after all, he was a
big boy. The lady with a nametag that read ‘Paula’ ate it up and helped him find a pair of nice
jeans and a light-blue polo-shirt, together with some plain underwear and socks, all for just
under ten pounds. And for another ten pounds she found him a pair of red trainers in his size.
She even cut the tags off for him after he paid so Harry could put the clothes on so he could
model them for his mother. His old clothes and shoes went into a plastic bag, which he
planned to dump in the first rubbish bin he found, and on the way out the door he picked up a
baseball cap that read ‘LONDON’ in red letters from a bargain bin for just 50p. Admiring his
reflection in the store window, Harry thought he might come back to the store to buy some
more decent clothes after he got money from his vault. Merlin knew in his previous life he’d
looked like a vagabond during his first year at Hogwarts whenever he wasn’t wearing his
school robes. Even though Harry knew it wasn’t his fault, it still filled him with an odd sense
of shame.

Besides, it wasn’t just vanity that drove him to make these kind of purchases. Harry was
determined to present himself as a normal, decent human being to the Wizarding World. He
knew first impressions were important. As an eleven-year-old the first time around none of
these things had even occurred to him, but Harry was older now, at least mentally, and he
knew how important building a good reputation was for the years to come and how he looked
did play a part in that, no matter if he cared about his looks or not.

The Leaky Cauldron wasn’t terribly busy, and Tom opened the wall to Diagon Alley for him
without a second glance, writing Harry off as just another muggleborn he saw come through
his pub day in and day out.

Harry allowed himself a moment to take in the sights and sounds of Diagon Alley as it was
without being ravaged by a war. He inhaled a deep breath and wove his way through the
crowds on his way to Gringotts, keeping the baseball cap securely on his head to hide his
scar. Nobody paid him any attention, and Harry realized this probably was because nobody
was expecting Harry Potter yet. In his previous life the Dursleys had spent almost a week
evading the letters and Harry made it to Diagon Alley on his birthday. And everyone knew
when Harry Potter’s birthday was so they were keeping an eye out for him. But now Harry
was a week early, much to his pleasure. That hopefully meant a quiet shopping trip.
Once inside Gringotts Harry got in line for a teller. He was ever so glad he hadn’t yet broken
into the bank this time around. And he wouldn’t, if he could help it, because sussing that over
had been a very expensive nightmare. Ron and Hermione didn’t have a knut to spare between
them so it had fallen to Harry to pay for their parts of the damages as well as his own. It had
cost him most of Sirius’ gold he’d inherited to satisfy the goblins and keep them from calling
for his head.

“Next!”

“Hi,” Harry said, trying to appear as a clever but as of yet ignorant child. “My parents left me
a vault here, my aunt told me, but she didn’t have the key and didn’t know where it went
either after my parents died.”

“Name?” the goblin asked in a bored tone.

“Harry Potter,” Harry said quietly. “I would also like to know how much is in my vault,
please.”

Hearing his name seemed to catch the goblin’s attention and he gave Harry a quick look up
and down. “Griphook! This child’s vault needs re-keying. Child, go with Griphook.”

Harry followed a quiet Griphook obediently to a small office in the back of the bank. Once
they were seated at the wooden desk inside, Griphook handed Harry a golden needle and a
sheet of parchment. “Three drops of blood on the parchment to confirm your identity.”

Harry pricked his finger, squeezed out the required drops and watched in wonder as a family
tree going back three generations appeared on the parchment, the lines and names fanning out
from the drops of blood. There were no surprises there that Harry could see. James and Lily
Potter were his parents.

“That is sufficient confirmation. Re-keying your vault costs fifty Galleons.”

Harry sputtered in quiet outrage. “Absolutely not. Twenty.”

Griphook’s brow twitched in amusement. “Thirty-five.”

“Thirty.”

“Thirty is acceptable. Bank statements were halted since the owner of the vault was an infant
ten years ago. Would you like to receive statements now?”

“Yes, please.”

“That will be five Galleons per year,” Griphook said as he turned around in his chair and
rummaged through a cabinet behind him. He pulled out a few sheets of parchment and
handed them to Harry. “These are from the last decade. New ones will be provided quarterly
per owl post.”

“Thank you, that is fine,” Harry said as he looked over his statements while Griphook got out
a new key and started whispering at it in a language Harry didn’t understand.
In his previous life Harry had never actually seen a statement of his vault. He hadn’t thought
to ask about it for the first few years of his Hogwarts career and later there had been
Voldemort and the war and Harry wasn’t allowed to just visit Diagon Alley whenever he
wanted. Harry was pleased to note that the statements didn’t show anything untoward when it
came to his vault. Nothing had gone out in the past decade, so the Dursleys hadn’t been lying
when they told him they didn’t receive a penny for his upkeep. And Dumbledore hadn’t
helped himself to Harry’s gold either. Harry had received a few nice sums of money over the
years, childless wizards or witches leaving him an inheritance from what he could tell. None
of these were significant amounts but it all added up to a vault filled with just over 16,000
Galleons. The exchange rate to pounds was five pounds to a Galleon, so Harry had about
80,000 pounds at his disposal. Nice, certainly, but nothing that would last him very long as
soon as he was an adult out of Hogwarts and needing to pay his own bills. But for now, at
least, Harry didn’t have to worry about money. Besides, he had a few ideas to add some gold
to his vault in the coming years.

Some people, Ron probably, might expect Harry to be richer, but Harry wasn’t surprised.
Sirius had told him a few things and he’d looked into his family a little bit during his sixth
year with Hermione’s help. He knew his grandfather Fleamont had invented a few potions in
his youth that earned him a nice bit of gold for a time. But exclusivity contracts on potions
only lasted 20 years. During that time the inventor was paid a small percentage of every
potion sold. But after that they got nothing. And as far as Harry knew in his later life
Fleamont hadn’t earned any money anymore, just lived off his savings. His grandmother
Euphemia had worked alongside her husband, managing the business side of Fleamont’s
potions and thus hadn’t brought in an additional income either. The house they’d owned had
burned down in a Death Eater attack a year before their deaths, and the remaining land had
long been sold. And his parents, between fighting a war and hiding from Voldemort hadn’t
added anything either, just spent gold to live their lives.

Harry counted himself lucky he had as much as he did.

“Is everything in order?” Griphook asked as he finished enchanting the new key.

“Yes, thank you. I’d like to get some Galleons from my vault now and exchange some to
muggle pounds.”

“There’s a flat fee of three Galleons for exchanging Galleons to muggle money,” Griphook
told him as he handed Harry his key. “Don’t lose that.”

“Of course there is,” Harry said with a sigh and a nod while he followed Griphook out of the
office and into a cart. Inside his vault Harry purchased an enchanted money pouch from
Griphook for another four Galleons and loaded it up with at least 500 Galleons. Perhaps a
little much, and Harry had no intention of spending it all, but he had no idea what schemes
Dumbledore might pull in the coming years and when he’d be able to get to Gringotts again.
Griphook exchanged 200 Galleons into a thousand pounds for him and with that Harry was
done at the bank.

His next stop was the luggage store because he wanted a trunk right away to store his other
purchases in. He opted for a slightly fancier model than his previous standard school trunk
but nothing too outrageous. His new trunk was a mat black with silver-coloured metal
trimmings. On the inside it had three compartments. One for his everyday possessions, one
for books and one storage compartment that could double as a wardrobe. The only extra he
had the sales assistance put on the trunk was the ability to shrink and enlarge it with a tap of
his wand without setting off the Trace. It would be very useful if he could keep all his
possessions in his pocket after all.

After that Harry endured the fussing of Madam Malkin as she measured him for his school
robes. Harry bought the standard robes but did add some decent winter wear and some
wizarding leisure wear in the form of black dress pants and two white button-down shirts.

He wandered into a side alley and discovered a second hand book store and a magical
optometrist. He visited both. The optometrist told him there was a way to fix his eyes
permanently, which involved dripping a few drops of a potion in his eyes before bed for a
month. The potion cost 75 Galleons, but Harry figured it was worth it and he got the bottle.
In the book store he bought the books from his booklist, all of them in decent condition. Why
spend money on new books when used ones would do? Harry planned to indulge in a few
things, like the eye potion, but for the rest he was going to spend as little as possible. He
picked up a few other interesting used books. One a beginner’s guide to Ancient Runes, one
for Arithmancy, a few Defence titles, two on warding, a book on common Wizarding laws
and a book on the Mind Arts.

Harry desperately needed to learn Occlumency if he wanted to keep Dumbledore and Snape
out of his head.

He visited a few more stores, buying things like potions ingredients, parchment and quills
and a cauldron and scales. He saw a few familiar faces in the crowds. Cho Chang with her
mother, some older Hufflepuff he forgot the name off but who had been on the Quidditch
team, Cormac McLaggen and some others he’d seen around Hogwarts. Harry ignored them
all and went about getting his shopping done. In the apothecary, Harry asked the clerk if they
had nutrient potions or something similar. The clerk, a cheerful young woman, handed Harry
some potions that were used to help someone recover after losing weight due to an illness.
She recommended he take one each day for two weeks, so Harry bought 14 vials. Hopefully
these would help him put some meat on his scrawny body and combat some of the
malnutrition he knew he suffered from at his current physical age. In his previous life the
problem had corrected itself eventually, by eating well at Hogwarts for the majority of the
year, but it couldn’t hurt to give his small body a head start in healing.

He’d saved the two most important things for last. His wand and Hedwig. He missed his first
friend terribly and while Harry knew she would never be his old Hedwig, he still wanted to
have her by his side. One trip to the pet store later and he was holding a cage with his
beautiful snowy owl inside.

“Hello, Hedwig, my sweet girl,” Harry whispered, his eyes a little wet as he stroked her soft
breast through the bars. “I’ve missed you.”

Hedwig gave him a soft hoot as she looked at him with intelligent eyes.

Ollivander’s was his last stop for the day. Ollivander greeted him as Harry remembered it and
Harry played along. He only stepped out of reach when Ollivander tried to touch his scar, and
Ollivander gave him an apologetic smile before handing him a wand. What followed was half
an hour of waving wands around and blowing up parts of Ollivander’s store until finally he
held his wand again, holly and phoenix feather.

“Curious,” Ollivander said.

“I’ll be needing an arm holster as well,” Harry said, ignoring Ollivander’s attempt at mystery.
He already knew, after all. With his wand strapped to his arm and ten Galleons lighter, Harry
left the store and Diagon Alley all together. Hedwig was set free and told to go to number 4
Privet Drive in Little Whinging, her cage went inside Harry’s trunk and the trunk went inside
his pocket.

Harry loved magic.

He had a late lunch or early dinner at a fast food restaurant that served fried chicken and
chips, just because he could, and then he made a quick stop at the department store to buy a
few more items, mostly clothes but also some notebooks and pens. By then he was exhausted,
emotionally drained and ready for bed. As he summoned the Knight Bus he realized he
couldn’t rest just yet. He had relatives to bribe. After a bumpy but quick ride back to Surrey,
Harry let himself into the Dursleys’ house.

“Here’s your money, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said as he offered his aunt a fifty pound bill as she
stormed into the hallway, followed closely by Vernon. Harry held up his hand to ward of
Vernon’s incoming tirade. “I have a business proposition for you, Uncle. My parents left me a
little bit of money and I’m willing to share, but there are conditions.”

Vernon closed his mouth and gave Harry a shrewd look. “How much? And what conditions?”

“I will give you 250 pounds per month for three months out of the year I’ll be staying here,
starting this year. In return you will give me Dudley’s second bedroom and you will feed me
three full meals a day. I will keep up the garden, since I enjoy doing that and I will cook three
meals a week, your choice which ones. I will also clean the bathroom and vacuum the house
once a week, and keep my own room clean. You will give me no further chores, you will
leave me alone and you will let me leave for the day if I want to.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes, curling his lip. “You want a lot for little, boy. We’ll take 500
pounds a month.”

Snorting, Harry shook his head. “I’m willing to go up to 350 pounds a month, take it or leave
it. If you leave it, I’ll still be made to live here and you get nothing.”

“Hmm.” Vernon slowly nodded while Petunia looked between him and Harry and also
nodded. “We’ll take 350 pounds a month, upfront.”

“No, 700 now and the last 350 at the end of August when I leave for school.”

“Fine, as long as you keep your freakishness to yourself and don’t bother us good, normal
people. And you can clean out Dudley’s second bedroom by yourself.”
Harry grinned and rushed up the stairs. “I’ll have that money for you right away, Uncle.”

While he handed Vernon fourteen fifty-pound notes, Harry calculated that if he stayed with
the Dursleys for seven years, it would cost him 7,350 pounds. A lot of money, yes, but
ultimately a small price to pay for being fed properly and being left alone for the most part.
Harry was happy to pay that price, considering how awful his summers with the Dursleys in
his previous life had gone.

That evening Vernon and Petunia took Dudley to see a movie and eat at his favourite
restaurant after dear Dudders had thrown a temper tantrum when he found Harry in his
second bedroom. Harry ignored him and continued to sort through all the junk in the room,
tossing most of it away in a few bin bags. He spent a quiet evening getting his room clean
and organized. It was still a small room filled with worn furniture, but it was Harry’s room
and he was glad to have it back. Before turning in for the night he wrote a quick acceptance
letter to McGonagall, saying he accepted his position and that his aunt had taken him
shopping. Hopefully this would satisfy the staff at Hogwarts and keep Hagrid from breaking
down the Dursleys’ front door. Harry loved Hagrid, but Hagrid was too much Dumbledore’s
man to consider a friend this time around.

“Ready for a trip to Hogwarts, Hedwig?” Harry asked his owl as she sat on the windowsill,
watching him work. Hedwig stuck her leg out in reply and Harry tied the letter to it. “This
goes to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts. Thanks, girl.”

Hedwig bobbed her head, spread her wings and took to the sky. Harry watched her fly away
with a warm feeling in his chest.

Who knew the only real friend he’d ever had was an owl. His beautiful Hedwig who had
taken a killing curse for him.

Except that wasn’t true, was it. There was another non-human friend who had given his life
for Harry. Dobby the house-elf was still in the employ of the Malfoys and Harry had no idea
if this time around he’d be given a chance to trick Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby, as he
had no intention of letting the diary horcrux wreak havoc at Hogwarts again by means of a
basilisk. If Death had done his job, there no longer even was a diary horcrux.

But there was another house-elf who had proven to be a good, loyal friend once Harry had
won him over. And this house-elf officially belonged to his godfather, so Harry, as Sirius’
heir, had a chance to meet and convince Kreacher to work for Harry. And since Harry knew
all about Master Regulus and his heroic sacrifice, he knew exactly how to do it.

Yep, Harry decided as he crawled into his bed, exhausted but feeling very accomplished.
Tomorrow, he’d be paying a visit to Grimmauld Place.
 Chapter 3
Chapter Summary

In which Harry takes a page out of Tom Riddle's book and manipulates a house-elf, gets
the newspaper and makes a shocking discovery.

When Harry woke up the next morning without anyone banging on his door demanding he
make breakfast, he let out a sigh of relief. It seemed his relatives were keeping their end of
the bargain. Harry spent a little time just lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He really was
back in the past, had really been given a second chance. The sharp sting of betrayal he felt all
over again at the thought of what his former friends had done was soon followed by a burst of
energetic warmth at the thought of doing everything better this time. And he couldn’t help the
utter sense of glee knowing he was so much more than people were expecting him to be.

People were expecting an ignorant muggle-raised eleven-year-old with average intelligence

and mediocre ambitions. What they got was a battle-hardened eighteen-year-old Master of
Death who had faced dragons and a basilisk, and a Dark Lord many times, and who had been
betrayed by those closest to him and who had no intention of being anyone’s sacrificial lamb
ever again. And who had died. Twice.

People really had no idea who they were dealing with, Harry thought while he snickered into
his pillow. This was going to be so much fun.

The sounds around the house, Vernon leaving for work, Dudley screaming one demand or
another, indicated it was probably time to get up lest he incur his aunt’s wrath, bargain or not.

“There’s breakfast,” his aunt snapped when he walked into the kitchen. She pointed at a plate
holding two fried eggs, a slice of bacon and a slice of toast, with a mug of tea on the side.
The bread wasn’t even burned all that much. “It’s probably cold.”

“Thank you, Aunt Petunia. That looks great,” Harry said with a polite smile as he sat at the
kitchen table and started eating. Thankfully, the food was still lukewarm and tasted fine.
Harry’s strategy for the Dursleys was to avoid whenever possible and otherwise to be
unfailingly polite. He wanted to give them absolutely no reasons to go back on their bargain.

“I’ll be visiting an old family friend this morning,” Harry told his aunt as he washed his plate
and mug. “And I thought I could mow the lawn this afternoon. It looks like it could do with a
trim.”

Petunia’s face contorted in a few very entertaining ways as she considered Harry’s words,
probably looking for ways to deny him these things without breaking their deal. “Fine,” she
finally said and turned on her heel and rushed out of the kitchen.
Harry smiled all the way to the bathroom, where it quickly turned into a frown as he looked
down while peeing.

Had his cock always been that small when he was ten going on eleven? Harry sighed, not
looking forward to puberty all over again. Though perhaps this time he could put some effort
into actually having sex once his body had matured. Harry was deeply disappointed in
himself that he’d died a virgin. Twice.

As he stood under the shower and washed his hair his thoughts turned to his upcoming
adventure. Talking Kreacher into becoming his friend. And thinking about that house-elf led
to thoughts about his godfather.

Harry was terribly conflicted about what to do about Sirius Black.

He loved Sirius. Or perhaps it could better be described as loving the idea of Sirius, because
in truth Harry had barely known the man. Even when Harry had spent a few weeks at
Grimmauld Place, Sirius had isolated himself more often than not. On top of that, Sirius was
damaged. Exposure to dementors for over a decade ravaged the mind and most of that
damage was permanent. Even if Harry got Sirius released that very day, the poor man would
never be mentally healthy or stable again, not even with the best magical treatments in the
world. Harry was certain this was why Sirius had, at times, such difficulty distinguishing
between Harry and James.

Harry didn’t blame the man for this, but reality was that this go around Harry would be even
less like his father because he had no intention to become a Gryffindor again. And Harry had
no idea how Sirius and his broken mind would react to that. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if
Sirius would shun him, or spend huge amounts of time trying to mould Harry into his perfect
version of a godson. Or perhaps Sirius would isolate himself again like he’d done before.

On top of that, Harry knew without a doubt that Dumbledore would do anything and
everything in his power to keep Sirius from getting custody of Harry. Dumbledore needed his
sacrificial lamb ignorant and neatly contained during the summer, after all. And an eleven-
year-old boy and a brain-damaged ex-prisoner stood no chance against Dumbledore at that
time, especially now Harry knew Dumbledore was capable of murder by proxy.

If they pushed this before they had enough political clout to make it happen, Harry was
certain Sirius would suffer an unfortunate accident or some mysterious evidence would turn
up that showed Sirius guilty of one crime or another and he’d be back in prison. Or he’d be
handed over to the dementors for a little kiss. After all, Dumbledore had gotten away with
imprisoning an innocent man once before. Harry did not for one second believe that
Dumbledore hadn’t planned to have Sirius imprisoned so he could control where his
sacrificial lamb grew up. Before, he might have given Dumbledore the benefit of the doubt,
they all had, but now Harry had seen behind the mask of genial, slightly batty, old
headmaster. He’d seen the ruthless manipulator willing to condemn the innocent to death or
worse, and he would never believe a single word that man said ever again.

Of course, Harry didn’t want to leave his godfather in Azkaban. Sirius had already suffered
enough. On top of that he wanted Pettigrew to pay for his betrayal of Harry’s family. He
could snatch the rat as quickly as he could once at Hogwarts, put it in an unbreakable cage
and have Kreacher look after it until Harry was sure it was the right time to turn him in and
free his godfather. It was also a nice little insurance policy in case the Dursleys didn’t stick to
their bargain.

Yeah, that was probably the best option for now, Harry thought as he finished drying off and
got dressed in some of his wizarding leisure wear. No need to give Kreacher an aneurysm by
showing up in muggle attire.

Harry walked a few streets away from Privet Drive before summoning the Knight Bus. No
need to freak the Dursleys out, and he also didn’t want Mrs Figg to know he was travelling
by magical means. He really didn’t want Dumbledore to find out his little pawn wasn’t
staying put in his muggle prison like he was supposed to. It was one of the reasons he’d
offered to keep up with the Dursleys’ garden, aside from the fact he enjoyed gardening in the
sunshine. If Mrs Figg saw him outside slaving away in the garden she’d report to
Dumbledore that nothing had changed, and that was exactly what Harry wanted her to do.

Yesterday, Harry had been too tired to notice the conductor, but when the Knight Bus
appeared in front of him it wasn’t Stan Shunpike who greeted him. It was an elderly wizard
with greying hair and an oversized belly who introduced himself as Eric Dooly, probably
Stan’s predecessor. Harry didn’t introduce himself at all but instead politely asked to be taken
to Grimmauld Place in London. It was a short trip, thankfully, and just over fifteen minutes
later Harry stood in front of the Black family townhouse.

There was no fidelius charm on the house at that point, so Harry could see the building
without any problems. He glanced around a few times, making sure no one was watching
him, and hurried up the steps to the front door. He knocked at once.

After a minute or so the door creaked open just a smidge and Kreacher stared up at him with
suspicion written all over his wrinkly face. “Mistress is not seeing guests.”

Harry almost snorted. Of course Mistress was not seeing guests. Mistress was dead and had
been for a few years now. “Hello, Kreacher,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I’m Harry Potter,
Sirius Black’s godson and heir, and I’ve come to help you with the locket Master Regulus
ordered you to destroy.”

Kreacher opened the door a little more and looked up at Harry with wide eyes. “How is you
knowing about Master Regulus’ locket?”

“Because I’ve seen him in a dream,” Harry said, which technically was true. He had dreamed
about Regulus Black a time or two, usually in the form of inferius filled nightmares but
Kreacher didn’t need to know that. “He asked me to help you because he knew you were
struggling. Show me where the locket is and I’ll destroy it for you right now.”

Frowning, Kreacher seemed to mull all this information over before he opened the door
completely. “No-good Master’s heir be following Kreacher.”

Harry entered the familiar, dark hallway as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. This filthy
home had been a safe haven for a brief time when he’d been actively hunted by Death Eaters
and Harry had grown fond of it. If he played his cards right, it might become a safe haven
again because no one would expect Harry Potter to want to spend time here to socialize with
an old house-elf. Kreacher led him into the drawing room and at once Harry spotted the
locket lying in the curiosity cabinet.

“Best to stay back while I destroy it,” he told Kreacher, but that was all for show. He could
feel from across the room the locket was no longer a horcrux. Harry understood now why
he’d always been able to sense Voldemort’s horcruxes. He’d been sensing what was
essentially his own soul, or at least part of it. He took out his wand and unlocked the cabinet’s
door. He wasn’t worried about the Trace activating because the Trace hadn’t been applied on
him yet. Students were charmed the first time they arrived at Hogwarts, so for the rest of the
summer Harry could use magic without detection, within reason. Harry wouldn’t be surprised
if Dumbledore had some sort of ward around number 4 Privet Drive that registered magic
use, so he wasn’t planning on using magic at home. But in a heavily warded building like
Grimmauld Place? He saw no problem with that.

For a moment, Harry was tempted to just blow up the locket but it was a priceless artefact,
and perhaps he could use it as a bargaining tool with Voldemort since it was his family’s
heirloom. Instead, Harry whispered a little parseltongue at the locket, which clicked open at
once. Ignoring Kreacher’s startled gasp, Harry cast all the cleaning charms he knew on the
locket and finished with a dramatic “finite incantatem” before turning to Kreacher. “It is
done.”

Kreacher had big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and at once Harry felt a little bad for
manipulating Kreacher the way he was doing. Then again, he wasn’t going to hurt the elf,
only wanted to be his friend so Harry pushed those feelings away quickly.

“You is finishing Master Regulus’ wishes,” Kreacher said reverently, walking towards the
cabinet and picking up the locket as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.
He looked at Harry with gratitude written all over his face. “You is helping Kreacher help
Master Regulus.”

“Of course,” Harry said with a gentle smile. “You’re part of the family, Kreacher. I’m very
happy to help you and Regulus both.” And that was true enough. “I could use your help if
you want to give it.”

“Kreacher will help the little Master,” Kreacher said without hesitation, and Harry wanted to
do a little victory dance. Kreacher addressing him as Master was exactly what he was hoping
for. It meant Kreacher was as good as his elf now.

Harry sat down on one of the leather chairs, a cloud of dust billowing up around him.
Kreacher quickly snapped his fingers and the dust disappeared. “Thanks,” Harry said. “I’m
going to Hogwarts in a month and I need your help to stay alive.”

“Who is wanting to hurt little Master?” Kreacher demanded, eyes narrowing.

“This is a secret, Kreacher,” Harry said carefully. “You cannot tell anyone else.”

“Kreacher won’t.”
“Good. Headmaster Dumbledore means for me to die. Not right away, but eventually, he
wants me dead. I have many plans to stop this from happening, but I could use a really good
house-elf like yourself to make sure those plans come to fruition.” Harry paused for a
moment and Kreacher nodded his agreement. “Besides that I could use a safe place to
practise magic and to hide should it be necessary. I live with muggles so I cannot do magic
there.”

Kreacher shook his head. “It is a disgrace the heir of no-good Master is being made to live
with filth. Little Master always being welcome here. Kreacher will look after little Master, he
will.”

“Thank you, Kreacher. You are an amazing elf,” Harry said, meaning every word. “Would
you also come if I called you at Hogwarts and asked you to run some errands for me?”

“Kreacher will listen for little master and Kreacher will come.”

“We’re going to be great friends, Kreacher.” Harry couldn’t stop smiling. Aside from
Hedwig, Harry was incredibly happy to have added Kreacher the cranky house-elf to his list
of beings he could rely on. “Now, how about you give me a tour of the house?” Harry
followed Kreacher through the grimy rooms, pretending he hadn’t seen it all before. The
library definitely caught his interest this time around, especially because you needed magical
permission to enter and Kreacher gave it to him. Harry got the impression that the Order
never found the library, because otherwise Hermione would have not stopped complaining
about being denied entry. Kreacher would never have given someone of her blood status
permission to enter after all, as unfair as that might be.

During the tour, Harry dropped a few subtle hints that the place could use some cleaning and
Kreacher got first a thoughtful and then a determined look on his face. Harry was willing to
bet some gold the house would be clean by the end of the week. Harry didn’t stay long after
the tour ended but promised to come back the next morning.

And that is how Harry spent the next few days. In the morning he took the Knight Bus to
Grimmauld Place, spent a few hours chatting with Kreacher and reading in the library,
enjoyed a wonderful lunch cooked for him by Kreacher and then headed home where he did
some chores and spent time in his room reading through his new books. Harry also returned
to Diagon Alley on his way to Grimmauld Place once, to visit the second hand book store
again to select a few more interesting books. More defence titles, some on curse-breaking,
one heavy tome on rituals, and two more books on the mind arts. He also added five titles on
Ancient Runes since the beginner’s book he gotten during his previous visit had proven to be
very interesting and Harry wanted to learn more. He also kicked himself for not having taken
it as an elective in his third year, and he was determined to rectify it this life.

As he made one final round through the store he spotted a few titles with his name in them.
‘Harry Potter and the Dragon’s Curse’ and ‘Harry Potter and the Mermaid’s Secret’. Harry
knew books had been written about him, but this was ridiculous. Also, this was a potential
source of income because they were using his name and likeliness. He added the books to his
pile and once in Grimmauld Place he asked Kreacher for some stationary to write a letter to
the author of those silly books, a witch named Philomena Elderflower.
‘Dear Miss Elderflower,

My name is Harry Potter and I’m a wizard who is going to Hogwarts in a month. I saw your
books in a bookstore in Diagon Alley and was surprised to see you’ve been writing stories
about me that never happened. That feels a little bit like lying about me, doesn’t it? My aunt
says you’re not allowed to write about me without my permission, and I think it’s not very
fair you’re making money while lying about me. So maybe you shouldn’t be writing these
stories about me anymore.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Wizard’

Hedwig was all too happy to deliver another letter, and Harry was very pleased to get a reply
from Miss Elderflower the very next day. It was a hastily written letter in which she assured
him and his aunt that she’d always meant to give them a cut of the profits and she was
offering 30 percent retroactively from the publication date of each of the seven titles, which
amounted to a total of just over 9000 Galleons or 45,000 pounds so far. Apparently these silly
books were sold in more than just the UK, in places like Australia, New Zealand and South
Africa, and she had plans for a few more titles. Harry sent her a letter in return with his
permission to write more books and with his vault number so she could transfer the agreed
upon amount of gold. He wanted to hit himself on the head for never having followed up on
things like this in his previous life. This wasn’t chump change, but a potential source of
income for many years to come, hopefully.

About a week after Harry’s second chance had started, Kreacher surprised him with a cake
during lunch.

“It is being little Master’s birthday,” Kreacher said while serving him a huge slice.

Harry was speechless. It was his birthday? He’d completely forgotten. He’d been so busy
with planning his new life, reading and learning that it had honestly slipped his mind. And of
course his relatives hadn’t mentioned it either.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry whispered, very touched that the house-elf even knew when
his birthday was. “Please have a slice of cake yourself. It looks amazing.”

But Kreacher wasn’t done yet with the surprises as he handed Harry a beautiful leather book
bag with detailed engravings of dragons and unicorns on it. “Birthday boys is being given
presents,” Kreacher said, stroking a gnarly hand across the soft leather. “This bag is being
Master Regulus’. He was using it during his first years at Hogwarts. Now the little Master
will be using it.”

Harry had to swallow against a sudden lump in his throat. “That is so kind of you, Kreacher. I
will look after it well. Thank you.”
Nodding, Kreacher left Harry to examine the bag as he refilled Harry’s teacup. Inside the bag,
Harry found a few more of Regulus’ school supplies, like a silver pencil case, some very
sturdy brass scales and a few leather binders to store sheets of parchment in. Harry vowed to
use all of it. As he enjoyed an after lunch cup of tea, Harry realized he needed to come to a
decision of where he wanted to be sorted this time around.

Gryffindor was out, plain and simple. Not only had he been a Gryffindor already and he
wanted a change, but Harry couldn’t imagine sharing a dorm room with Ron for seven years
after everything that had happened.

Slytherin, while tempting for the sheer shock it would give everyone around him, was also
out. Harry had been accused of going dark a time or two while he was a Gryffindor. He did
not want to live through the whole world thinking he was he next Dark Lord just because he
was a Slytherin. Besides, Harry had an idea that Dumbledore would want to keep a very close
eye on a Slytherin Harry to make sure he didn’t become Tom Riddle version 2.0.

So that left Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Both good houses, often overlooked, yet fine choices
for the Boy Who Lived. But which one to pick? Hufflepuff would almost guarantee that
everyone would underestimate him. Hufflepuffs were loyal, so Harry might be able to build a
real following in that house. Then again, Hufflepuffs were social little badgers, who liked to
be up in each other’s business, making sure that everyone was happy and included in the
group all the time. And Harry had plans that required him to spend time by himself. His
fellow Hufflepuffs would get worried, try to follow him around, tell Professor Sprout when
they couldn’t find him, and she might tell McGonagall who most certainly would tell
Dumbledore... yeah, Hufflepuff was out as well.

Which left Ravenclaw. In many ways Ravenclaw was the ideal house for Harry’s situation.
No matter what Harry did once he got to Hogwarts, people were going to notice his
intelligence and his aptitude at casting spells, simply because he was an eighteen-year-old in
a child’s body. There was no hiding that, but in Ravenclaw this would be appreciated,
perhaps even expected. Harry could play the aloof but friendly scholar who had many
interests outside of the school curriculum. Nobody would bat an eye in Ravenclaw if Harry
studied subjects well beyond his year. And nobody would comment if he occasionally wanted
to spend some time alone to read or unwind or whatever.

Yes, Ravenclaw really was the best house for him, the more Harry thought about it. Now all
he had to do was convince the Sorting Hat to put him there. Though with all the reading
Harry had been doing during the past week the hat might agree right away Harry belonged
with the eagles. One could hope.

A week or so after his birthday, Harry realized that if he wanted to play the world it was
necessary to know what was going on in the world in the first place. So he sent Kreacher out
with a small bag of Galleons and a signed letter to get him a subscription to the Daily
Prophet. Yes, it was a gossip rag not worth the paper it was printed on, but it was the biggest
newspaper in the British wizarding world and it did report on all the major happenings Harry
needed to know about.

Usually he brought the paper, which was delivered at the Dursleys’, with him to Grimmauld
Place so he could read it while enjoying a nice cup of tea and whatever pastry Kreacher had
cooked up that day. It was obvious that the poor house-elf had missed looking after someone
ever since Walburga Black had died, and he seemed to enjoy stuffing Harry with all sorts of
decadent meals and delicious treats. Combined with the nutrient potions he’d taken Harry had
added some much needed weight and had even grown an inch. He was still small and
scrawny, but he’d lost the starved look at least.

This morning’s treat was a small lemon pie which Harry bit into as he opened the paper.

BARTEMIUS CROUCH FOUND DEAD

Harry almost choked on his bite of lemon pie and swallowed for all he was worth. “There
you are, Tom,” he whispered as he scanned the article. Apparently Barty Crouch Sr had
called in sick almost two weeks ago, and when his colleagues hadn’t heard from him since
that time they went to check up on him and they found him dead in his bed. Suspected cause
of death was heart disease.

So Voldemort had freed Barty Crouch Jr and gotten rid of his father. So did that mean
Voldemort wasn’t coming to Hogwarts? He didn’t want the Philosopher’s Stone? Then how
was he... Harry sat up in his chair, suddenly realizing how Voldemort was going to get his
body back.

And he also knew where Voldemort was hiding. After all, why change what worked before.

“Kreacher!” Harry called as he folded the newspaper. “Can you apparate me to Little
Hangleton?”
 Chapter 4
Chapter Summary

Harry has tea with the Dark Lord and nobody dies.

Harry did not want to use the Knight Bus to travel to Voldemort’s hideout, because he wanted
no witnesses. If it ever got back to Dumbledore that Harry Potter had travelled to Little
Hangleton the consequences would be beyond dire. Technically, Harry knew how to apparate.
Except he had no idea how his eleven-year-old body would react to that kind of magic, if it
was even capable of it. And the last thing Harry wanted was to accidentally splinch himself
all over England and explain what the hell happened to the Ministry when they came to put
him back together.

So, Kreacher it was. House-elves had an uncanny sense of direction, could find almost any
place they put their minds to, so Harry knew Kreacher would get him there.

“Just drop me in the cemetery,” Harry said as Kreacher grabbed hold of his arm. One quiet
and pleasant pop later and they were standing in the fresh air surrounded by gravestones.
“Thanks. I’ll call you when you can come pick me up.” Kreacher nodded in response and
popped away again.

Harry inhaled a deep breath as he stared at the dilapidated manor house in the distance. Doubt
set in once he took a moment to think about what he was doing. He was voluntarily visiting
Voldemort, his prophesized enemy, the Dark Lord who’d done his very best in their past life
to kill Harry once and for all. But this was also a new Voldemort with a complete soul and his
memories of defeat. And, Harry reasoned, the sooner he reached some sort of understanding
with his enemy, the better. Not to mention Harry was just plain curious what had become of
Voldemort in this brave new world and when had Harry ever been able to deny his curiosity?

So he took another deep breath, gathered his Gryffindor courage and impulsivity and strolled
towards the house, enjoying the warmth of an early morning in August. There were no wards
stopping him from entering through the rusty gates and onto the neglected and overgrown
manor grounds. He made it to the front door in one piece and knocked firmly.

A few minutes passed while Harry waited as patiently as possible while being consumed by
anticipation and anxiety. Then the door creaked open and Barty Crouch Jr peered at him with
squinty eyes, the wand in his hand pointed straight at Harry.

“Hi, Barty,” Harry said with a friendly smile. “I’ve come to visit the Dark Lord. Please let
him know his soulmate is here to see him.” Harry just couldn’t help himself, and it was true
after all. They shared a soul.
Barty looked a little as if he’d just been hit over the head with a rogue bludger. “Who the hell
are you?”

Harry straightened his shoulders and widened his smile. “Oh, how rude of me. I’m Harry
Potter.”

Now Barty looked as if he’d been hit by about a dozen bludgers, his round eyes staring at
Harry in sheer disbelief.

“Let him in,” called a soft voice from within the house, and at once Harry ducked under
Barty’s elbow and slipped inside the door. Sometimes being small had its advantages. He
rushed into the direction the voice had come from, a room on the right, while Barty sputtered
behind him as he closed the door with a slam.

“Potter... Potter! Give me your wand!” Barty demanded as he hurried after Harry, but Harry
ignored him because there, in a wingback leather chair in the middle of a dusty reception
room sat the Dark Lord embodying a small homunculus similar to the one he’d been in
during their previous life. Though this one seemed a little less emaciated, a little
more...complete, for lack of a better word. Voldemort stared at Harry with red eyes, wand in
hand but resting in his lap.

“Voldemort,” Harry said with a little wave as he stopped a few feet in front of the Dark Lord.

“Potter.” Voldemort’s voice was soft, even a little raspy, not as high-pitched as it once had
been.

“So how is that complete soul working for you?” Harry asked, since he’d never been one to
beat around the bush. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Voldemort gave him an incredulous look. “You claim credit for turning this into a mere
trinket?” he asked, his small hand reaching inside the neckline of his child-sized black robes.
It came back holding a silver chain on which the Gaunt ring dangled. “I wonder how and
when you managed such a thing, since all I remember is dying and waking up on the back of
Quirrell’s head.”

“No, that’s not what happened,” Harry said, sinking down in one of the chairs standing
opposite Voldemort’s, feeling strangely disappointed at Voldemort’s dismissal. “You don’t
remember white King’s Cross Station? I made a deal with Death to put your soul back
together and I spent ages looking for all the little Toms.”

“That was a dream,” Voldemort said, and then waved Barty, who was lingering near the door
and staring at them as if he was seeing water burn, towards a chair. “That had to be a dream.”

“No dream.” Harry was terribly amused by the shocked expression on Voldemort’s face. “It
was limbo and you were stuck there in pieces until I came along. Death was there, all living
shadows.”

Voldemort shuddered for a brief moment. “If that was limbo, then you died in our duel as
well. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been there.”
“No, I didn’t die during our duel. I died two months later.” Harry glanced to the side as rage
consumed him. Beside him, Barty was sitting very still on the edge of his seat with the
posture of a small child desperately trying not to be noticed by the adults around him lest he
be sent from the room and miss out on hearing all the adult conversation he wasn’t supposed
to hear in the first place but really wanted to listen to.

“I was betrayed,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

Voldemort’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Do tell.”

Unable to contain the red-hot anger that suddenly coursed through him, Harry jumped up
from his seat and started pacing the room. It was funny, not to mention ironic, that only now
that Harry was surrounded by enemies did he feel he could unleash his emotions. So far he’d
tried to bury all the anger and rage that came with the betrayal by only letting himself feel
small bursts of pain from time to time. But now the emotional dam well and truly broke and
Harry had to get all these feelings off his chest.

“I was at Hogwarts, helping to rebuild,” Harry said, staring straight ahead as he paced from
left to right and back again. “Got a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for
Magic, asking me to stop by. Was ambushed by about ten thousand Aurors and spent a week
alone in a cell without any explanation. Then they silenced me and put me on trial in front of
a full Wizengamot.”

Harry inhaled a deep breath and tried to keep his hands from trembling without much
success. “Dumbledore, that meddling old asshole had sent a letter to be delivered after your
defeat, telling the Ministry to kill me because when you tried to kill me when I was a baby
and got imploded a piece of your soul broke off and attached itself to me. Except
Dumbledore had told me that horcrux could be destroyed by letting you hit me in the face
with a killing curse and I’d be fine probably. But that motherfucker lied.”

Harry stopped pacing and stared at the other two occupants in the room. Barty’s mouth was
hanging open but Voldemort was watching him with a carefully constructed blank expression.

“Because I was so young your soul piece merged with my own soul and they became one
new soul, forever. And Dumbledore knew this the whole fucking time. So Kingsley
summoned my friends –“ Harry’s voice broke and he had to stop talking for a moment to
collect himself. He swallowed once, twice. “My friends, Ron and Hermione and Ginny,
people I would have done anything for, would have died for, would have killed for, sat there
in the Wizengamot and went along with everything Kingsley and Dumbledore were saying.
They sold me out.”

Harry slowly sank back down in his chair, suddenly exhausted. “After that, the vast majority
of the Wizengamot voted to kill me immediately. They just picked me up, dragged me to the
Veil in the Department of Mysteries and chucked me through it like I was yesterday’s
rubbish.”

“Wow,” Barty breathed as he finally remembered to close his mouth. “That is some tough
luck.”
Voldemort’s expression turned quite constipated as he pressed a small fist against his lips.
Soft, slow chuckles quickly turned into sharp laughter as the Dark Lord, murderer of many
and ardent fan of torturing his followers, completely lost his composure. He bent double at
the waist, laughing so loudly his whole body shook.

Harry gaped at him, previous anger and rage forgotten as he realized he’d never seen
Voldemort display full on laughter before. And judging by Barty’s gobsmacked expression,
neither had he.

Holding up a hand, Voldemort desperately tried to calm himself. “You know what that is
called, Potter,” he managed to say in between snorts of laughter. “Karma.”

“That’s not how karma works,” Harry said, pointing an angry finger at Voldemort. “Just
because I killed you doesn’t mean my number was suddenly up.” Voldemort kept laughing,
though softer now. “Anyway,” Harry said loudly. “I ended up in limbo, again, and Death told
me I could go back because I’m the Master of Death.”

Barty made a choking sound beside him, but Harry ignored him.

“But because I’m your horcrux forever and ever, you got to go back as well, memories intact,
same as me. But I realized it was probably better if your soul was put together again so I
collected you and Death glued you back together. And now, as long as I live you won’t die.
And as Master of Death I won’t die unless I want to.” Harry gave Voldemort a very pointed
look. “So, you’re welcome.”

Voldemort finally calmed down enough to sit back up completely and take a deep breath.
“What do you expect of me, Potter? What conditions do you require I meet?”

“Er...”Harry was confused by those questions and looked from Voldemort to Barty and back.

“Certainly all of this is not without a price?” Voldemort said with a piercing look, expression
slowly morphing into anger.

“Well,” Harry said, sitting forward and weaving his fingers together. There were so many
things he wanted Voldemort to do differently this time, but he figured his best bet to start with
was to stick to the big guns and save the little details for later. “If you could lay off the
torturing and killing needlessly, that would be great. And you’re not allowed to mess up
Hogwarts again. The Carrows are never allowed to teach again.”

“The Carrows as teachers,” Barty wondered out loud with a nervous laugh. “What would
they even be able to teach?”

“The cruciatus curse and how to endure it, mostly,” Harry said with a grimace, glancing at
Barty. While rebuilding Hogwarts Harry had heard some truly horrific stories about those two
sadists from Neville and many others. He looked back at Voldemort. “And maybe if we could
forget things like the muggleborn registration committee, that would be awesome.”

“We?” Voldemort sounded beyond amused and Harry felt his cheeks heat. “I’m not suddenly
turning into an insipid Hufflepuff that runs a niffler sanctuary or some such nonsense. I still
believe the wizarding world is a stagnant mess that needs change.”

“I agree,” Harry said at once, much to Voldemort’s obvious surprise. “But that change doesn’t
need to be killing all muggleborns. We need new blood.”

Voldemort released a disbelieving snort.

“We do,” Harry insisted. “Think about it. Who are some of the most powerful magicals we
know? You, me, Dumbledore, Snape. What do we all have in common?”

Brows furrowed, Voldemort considered that question. “We are all half-bloods.”

“Exactly. Adding new blood to stagnant pureblood lines makes for powerful witches and
wizards.” Harry had discussed these issues at length with Hermione during the many months
they’d spent living in a tent together, on the run from about the whole world. There was only
so much one could do besides reading and playing endless games of chess, and Harry quickly
learned that debating these kind of subjects, thinking up ways to improve the wizarding
world, was kind of fun. And even though these days thinking about Hermione filled him with
anger and hurt, that didn’t mean the ideas they’d come up with during their many, many talks
weren’t good ones. Harry was determined to slowly but surely mention them to Voldemort.

“This might be the case, but muggles form a very real threat to our society.” Voldemort
stroked his hand across his chin. “Though I suppose we can also contain muggleborns and
their muggle families with stronger secrecy spells and magical vows or contracts.”

Smiling, Harry sat back in his chair, beyond happy to see this new version of Voldemort was
capable of reasoning and compromise. The old one would have started tossing the cruciatus
curse around a minute into their conversation. “I’m sure we can work things out that makes
us all happy. I want you to change our world. I wouldn’t have brought you back with me if I
didn’t. I’d just like to see it done smarter, without as much bloodshed.”

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. “The losses we endured and inflicted the last time were quite
unacceptable, in hindsight.” Well, would wonders never cease, Harry thought, feeling better
and better by the second that he’d gotten Voldemort his second chance with his soul intact.

“Potter,” Barty asked, apparently unable to contain his innate curiosity any longer. “What are
you planning on doing with your second chance?”

“A few things,” Harry said with confidence and then had to think what those things actually
were. So far he’d spent a lot of time taking care of small, practical things that made his life
easier but as far as long-term goals were concerned Harry came up short. Except one, very
obvious goal. “I want Dumbledore to pay, but I’m still working out how to go about that,”
Harry said, and since he couldn’t think of anything else he added, “and I’m going to be a
Ravenclaw this time around.”

“No, you’re not,” Voldemort interrupted him. “All this you’re doing, Potter, is fuelled by
ambition. The Sorting Hat will never go for Ravenclaw. It’s going to put you straight into
Slytherin.”
Harry considered that for a moment. “But I’m reading a lot so I could definitely be a
Ravenclaw.” He looked at Barty the Ravenclaw for a little support, but Barty was looking
rather dubious as well.

“Not to mention the way you stormed in here was pure Gryffindor,” Barty pointed out.

Harry sighed but before he could say something Winky popped into the room holding a tray
with a full tea service. Harry almost greeted her until he remembered this Winky had no clue
who he was so he kept his mouth shut.

“You is talking so long Winky is thinking you be needing tea.” Winky served them all cups of
tea and insisted Harry take a chocolate biscuit.

“Thanks, Winky,” Barty said, nibbling a biscuit of his own. Even the Dark Lord hadn’t
escaped the house-elf’s attentions and he dipped his biscuit in his tea before eating it.

Harry enjoyed the small treat, thinking about what else they needed to discuss as he chewed.
Though judging by how well this meeting was going, Harry could see further meetings
happening in the future. “Are you planning to do the same ritual as before to get your body
back? Do you need my blood?”

Barty immediately went into scholarly mode as he started muttering some calculations that
Harry thought might be arithmancy. “Adding blood willingly given from an enemy turned
ally would strengthen the ritual significantly, my Lord.”

“Hmm.” Voldemort gave Harry a considering look. “Are you my ally, Harry Potter?”

Was he? Harry frowned as he considered his options. At the very least he wanted a cease fire
between himself and the Dark Lord while each did their own thing and so far that seemed
achievable. But to be an ally, that was an option that required closer interaction between them
both. Question was, could they work together without killing each other? Only one way to
find out. “Well, I’m no longer your enemy, and it’s way too early to consider you a friend, so
I guess ally works.” Harry sipped his tea. “Don’t you want the Philosopher’s stone
anymore?” At Barty’s sharp intake of breath, Harry added, “Last time it was hidden at
Hogwarts and he tried to steal it, but I stopped him.”

“Yes, curious how a first year made it through Dumbledore’s little obstacle course so easily.
Or why Dumbledore deemed all these silly challenges necessary in the first place when a
simple fidelius charm would have provided all the security necessary at the Flamel’s home.”
Voldemort took a rather long, pointed sip of his tea while his red gaze never left Harry.

“Yeah, I know, I was an idiot who let Dumbledore manipulate me into his perfect little
sacrificial lamb,” Harry said with a heavy sigh. This was something he’d spent a pretty
significant amount of time pondering these last few weeks, how Dumbledore had played him
for a fool his entire life. “But in my defence, I was an abused eleven-year-old, completely
overwhelmed by my position in this new world I only just learned I was a part of, and
desperate for friends and positive reinforcement from adults. Dumbledore knew exactly what
he was doing and I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Abused?” Barty asked with wide eyes.

Bugger. Harry hadn’t meant to let that slip out, but it felt so good to talk about these new
developments with people in the know that he was letting his guard down a little more than
was good for him. “It’s fine, my relatives are bastards who hardly fed me and kept me locked
in a cupboard for most of my childhood. But this time around I’ve bribed them into feeding
me and leaving me alone.”

“Interesting,” Voldemort said with a tilt of his head. “Severus always claimed you were
raised as royalty and spoiled rotten.”

Harry released a harsh laugh. “Severus Snape has never, ever actually seen me. All he’s ever
seen is James Junior. The man was in my fucking head during our Occlumency lessons, he
saw what the Dursleys did to me, and he still claimed they spoiled me? That man is wilfully
blind.” Then Harry remembered and he added in a softer voice, “I’m guessing you’ll want
revenge on Snape for his betrayal, right?”

“I’m considering it,” Voldemort replied in the sort of tone that meant he definitely wanted to
rip Snape apart with his bare hands.

Yeah, Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d never liked Snape, but the man had
given his life to help them win the war. Then again, to Voldemort, Snape was a traitor and
nowadays Harry had intimate knowledge what it felt like to be betrayed so could he really
blame Voldemort for wanting a little revenge? But Snape had been useful and perhaps could
be useful again. “I wouldn’t kill him if I were you.” Harry held up his hand as Voldemort was
about to open his mouth. “Listen. Use him. Dumbledore trusts Snape as much as he trusts
anyone. You could feed all the bullshit you wanted to Snape and the old man would buy it.”

“That is an option,” Voldemort conceded as he finished his tea.

“Oh, and I just realized we already have a way to get rid of Dumbledore,” Harry said, pleased
to have thought of it. “Dumbledore still believes you have horcruxes so he’ll look for them.”
Harry gestured at the ring around Voldemort’s neck. “Last time the curse on that ring did him
in, slowly and painfully, because he couldn’t resist the Resurrection Stone. Put an exact
replica of that ring back in the shack with that curse and Dumbledore will snap that trap shut
eventually.”

A slow smile spread across Voldemort’s face. “That is an excellent plan, Potter. Talking about
Dumbledore... how is your Occlumency these days? It wouldn’t help either of us if the old
man could get into your head.”

“Yeah, my Occlumency is shit,” Harry admitted, much to his everlasting shame. “I’ve been
reading books about it and practicing what I can and meditating for hours but it’s still shit.”

“Come here and kneel.” Voldemort waved him closer with an impatient hand. “I’ll protect
your mind with a temporary shield. It should last around six months, so we’ll have to renew it
during the Christmas holidays but it will keep the old man out.”
Slowly, a little warily, Harry got up and kneeled down in front of Voldemort. He wasn’t sure
about letting Voldemort root around in his mind, but he needed help. It was only a few more
weeks until the first of September and there was no way Harry was going to become
proficient enough at Occlumency in that time to keep the headmaster or Snape out. And he
had far too many secrets to protect this time around.

“Look into my eyes,” Voldemort instructed him as he leaned closer. “Do not look away. It
shouldn’t be painful but you will feel some pressure.”

Harry sat perfectly still as he experienced the bizarre sensation of someone else moving his
memories around, trying to organize some of the chaos in Harry’s head. It wasn’t painful,
Voldemort hadn’t lied about that, but it was still an utterly weird sensation. Finally Voldemort
pulled out of Harry’s mind with something that felt like a mental twist and Harry was alone
in his head again.

“There, done,” Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair. “If we are to be allies, Potter, you
will need to practice and learn Occlumency. We’ll also need a secure method of
communication for when you’re at Hogwarts. I will think of something.” Voldemort closed
his eyes for several moments. “I tire easily in this state, so I’ll have to cut this meeting short.”

Harry, who had been about to sit down in his chair again, shot up. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for
the talk.” Voldemort was looking a little peaky, but Harry couldn’t help feeling disappointed
that the meeting was over already. Who knew having tea with your enemy would be the most
fun Harry had since he started his second chance.

“Barty will see you out.” A small smile played around Voldemort’s lips as he stared at Harry.
“Potter, come back next week.”
 Chapter 5
Chapter Summary

Harry plays chess, gets presents, goes to Hogwarts and makes a friend. Spoiler: it's not
the Sorting Hat, because that thing sucks.

“What’s it like to die?” Barty asked during Harry’s third and final visit. The next day Harry
was off to Hogwarts.

Harry smiled at Barty over the chess set on the coffee table between them. “The first time I
died –“

“Wait, the first time? How many times have you died?” Barty demanded, putting the pawn
he’d been about to move down again.

“I’ve died twice,” Harry said with a fond smile. During their brief acquaintance Harry had
learned that Barty was a true Ravenclaw who wanted to know everything. He had a curiosity
problem that rivalled Harry’s. “The first time I let Voldemort hit me in the face with a killing
curse-“

“I did not hit you in the face, Potter,” Voldemort said with a glare directed at Harry. He sat in
his customary chair, watching them play chess while he put the finishing touches on some
enchanted silver compact mirrors they could use for communication. “I hit you square in the
chest. Always aim at the biggest part of your target.”

“Anyway,” Harry continued. “I was hit with a killing curse somewhere on my body and it
was the quickest, nicest way to die all things considered. No pain, no fear, just poof, you’re
dead.”

“Huh,” Barty said, finally moving his pawn forward. “People have theorized this for ages but
no one could actually prove that is was quick and without pain.”

“Until now when there’s two people that have first-hand experience.” Harry looked to the
side. “Right, Tom?” Harry had called him by his real name once or twice just to see how he
reacted. The old Voldemort hated it and would resort to throwing curses in response.

The new and improved version merely sighed. “Don’t call me that,” Voldemort said while
giving Harry an exasperated look as though he knew exactly what Harry was doing. “But yes,
the killing curse is as advertised, painless and instantaneous.”

“Now the Veil was different,” Harry explained to a riveted Barty. “The fabric doesn’t actually
feel like fabric, but like this freezing burst of wind that swallows you up. Everything is dark
immediately, but you realize it’s dark, you’re still conscious for that for a moment. And then
everything is white and you’re in limbo.”

“It makes you wonder where your body went,” Barty mused. “What happened to it outside of
limbo somewhere.”

“Right? I have wondered about my body. It wasn’t anywhere in limbo where I could see it.”
Harry studied the chessboard for a moment and moved his rook. He was losing. Badly. “Now
you, or at least the previous you, knows what it’s like to be kissed by a dementor.”

“Potter,” Voldemort snapped as Barty paled drastically and looked ready to be sick all over
the chess board. “Quit traumatizing my assistant.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. He hadn’t meant to upset Barty. “If it makes you feel better, you
were a pretty good Defence teacher, and you once turned Draco Malfoy into a white ferret
and then bounced him all over the entrance hall which remains one of the most hilarious
things I’ve ever seen.”

Barty gave a watery chuckle. “If that boy is anything like his father he probably needed to be
taken down a peg or two.”

“Exactly,” Harry said with a laugh, glad to see Barty recovering so quickly. “Before I forget,
when are you planning to do the ritual, and do you need me there?” Harry had already
donated a few vials of blood to Voldemort.

“Samhain,” Voldemort said, waving his wand over one of the mirrors in his lap in a repeating
pattern. “Your voluntary attendance would strengthen the ritual.”

“I can probably sneak out and join you, but not until after the Halloween feast. If I’m not at
the feast and you suddenly come back during that time, Dumbledore probably would get
suspicious.”

“I wasn’t planning to announce my return or call my followers like I did last time.”

Harry thought about that for a second. “All right, but Snape will probably still feel you
return, right? And he will tell the old man.”

“Severus will feel a mild burn for a moment but without a summoning he will have no
evidence what happened,” Voldemort said with a satisfied little smile.

“Are you going to keep your old identity?” Harry asked. He’d spent a few hours in bed
before falling asleep planning out Voldemort’s new life just to amuse himself, so he had lots
of ideas. “You could go with a whole new identity so Dumbledore won’t see you coming. Or
you could become your own son. That way they can never prosecute you for any previous
crimes, but you can still keep the Slytherin connection and you’d drive the old man up the
wall.”

“And you would be fine with that? If I escaped justice?” Voldemort gave Harry an almost
challenging look. “I murdered your parents, Potter, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Harry said and inhaled a deep breath. He had considered these
things since his first meeting with Voldemort and he had briefly felt guilty for denying his
parents and all the other victims of the Dark Lord justice, but then he remembered how the
majority of the wizarding world had agreed with his own execution within minutes and
suddenly he didn’t care very much anymore. “In my book, we’re square. I got my justice or
revenge or whatever you want to call it in our previous life. This life, we’re in it together, not
just because we share a soul but because we have a common enemy who wants us both dead.
And I think my parents would want me to stay alive more than they’d want revenge on you.”

Voldemort stared down at the mirrors in his lap, contemplating Harry’s response. “So, in
essence, you want this to be a fresh start for both of us, and leave any and all conflict between
us in our past life.”

“Yes,” Harry said with a decisive nod.

“That’s very mature of you,” Barty said with an impressed look.

“I might look it, but I’m not actually eleven. I’m eighteen.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. You’re going to have to tone down your maturity at Hogwarts or
people will notice.” Barty moved his knight. “Also, checkmate.”

“What?” Harry demanded as he stared at the chessboard in disbelief. Chess just wasn’t his
game. Never had been, never would be.

“These are done,” Voldemort said, handing both Barty and Harry a mirror while keeping one
for himself. “Barty, to activate yours hold it against your mark. Potter, yours activates by
telling it to in parseltongue. Then say the name of who you wish to speak to and the mirrors
will connect. On the other side the mirror will emit a soft glow and grow warm. Keep the
mirror in your pocket and you won’t miss a call. This way we can arrange further meetings,
and your attendance at the ritual on Samhain.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Harry said, admiring the small runic arrays engraved in the silver
housing. “Quirrell isn’t going to unleash a troll again on Halloween, is he?”

“Quirrell has been instructed to teach properly and to report the goings on at the castle to me,
nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Harry perked up, getting an amazing idea. “So you don’t mind if I steal the
Philosopher’s Stone, do you?”

Before Voldemort could reply, Barty spoke up. “If it’s not a fake.” When both Harry and
Voldemort looked at him in mild shock and disbelief, he added, “Neither one of you has
considered this before? Really? Because that would be a perfect trap. Spread the rumour the
real stone is at Hogwarts, hide a fake stone there and you can wait for the trap to close
without worrying the real stone might fall in the wrong hands.”

“Huh,” Harry said, impressed Barty had come up with that, seeing as it had never occurred to
him or anyone he knew. “Only one way to find out. I’m going to steal it.”
“Have fun,” Voldemort said in a deadpan tone. “Don’t get caught.”

“Of course not, I have planned this.” Harry leaned forward with a grin. “I’m going to play the
part of... actually I’m going to act like Tom Riddle.”

“Ah, yes,” Voldemort muttered. “Because that won’t arouse the old man’s suspicions at all.”

“No, not like creepy, scary Dark Lord Tom Riddle,” Harry insisted. He’d thought about his
behaviour at Hogwarts a million times. He had planned it for real. “Like intelligent, helpful
Tom Riddle, except without the blood prejudice.”

“My point still stands,” Voldemort said with a tired look. “The old man will be suspicious if
you act even remotely like me.”

“To be fair,” Barty said quietly, as if unsure if his thoughts would be welcome. “Given that
Dumbledore knows you house a piece of our Lord’s soul, he will be suspicious no matter
what you do or where you are sorted.”

“Slytherin,” Voldemort couldn’t help but comment, immediately followed by Barty’s,

“Gryffindor.”

“Ravenclaw,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes briefly at his companions to drive his point
home. He was going to be a Ravenclaw, dammit. “But you’re right, Barty, so I’ve decided to
focus on the students, to make connections across House boundaries without prejudice. Be
kind and helpful, present myself as an intelligent, mature young man with a passion for
studying. And Quidditch, because I’m still going to be playing since I love it.”

“Bugger,” Barty said as he shared a pointed glance with Voldemort. “All that networking...he
is going to be a Slytherin, isn’t he?”

“Hm.” Voldemort leaned back in his chair with an amused little smile. Harry sighed. They
spent another fifteen minutes chatting and bantering until Voldemort grew too tired and Harry
said his goodbyes.

Outside the house, Harry called for Kreacher who popped them both back to Grimmauld
Place where there was a surprise waiting for him in the form of a pile of books in the middle
of the drawing room. There were probably 150 to 200 of them.

“These are being Master Regulus’ schoolbooks, all the ones he’s been using for his school
years,” Kreacher explained as Harry stared at the pile with his mouth hanging open. “They is
catching dust in the house, so now the little Master can be using them.”

Up until that point, ever since the betrayal that ripped his life apart, ever since dying again,
ever since making peace with Voldemort, Harry hadn’t shed a single tear. And yet, as he
stared at the pile of books and the house-elf standing beside it looking at him in anticipation
and hope, the floodgates opened and Harry released a strangled sob. He tried to bite back the
noise, squeezed his eyes shut to stem the flow of tears, but he couldn’t stop it. He sank to the
floor, face buried in his hands as he cried in heaving sobs and he didn’t even understand why
it was happening.
It felt like everything that had happened, the second chance, the betrayal, but also everything
before that, the final battle, so many dead and so many hurt, Snape and Fred dying before his
eyes, Dobby dying in his arms, being captured and being on the run, and just everything,
everything was suddenly too much and bubbled over and forced itself out and out, and Harry
crumbled in an avalanche of tears and choked sobs.

Two spindly arms wound around his shoulders. “You is being a good little Master and
Kreacher is being glad to serve you.”

“Thanks,” Harry hiccupped, accepting the handkerchief Kreacher conjured for him. “You are
the best elf and I’m happy you’re my friend.” Kreacher kept his arms around him as the sobs
slowly subsided and Harry wiped his face dry with the handkerchief. He had no words how
grateful he was for Kreacher. It was hard to imagine now that when they first met, Harry had
hated the creepy old elf and that feeling was entirely mutual. But now, Kreacher was as
happy to have found a kind new Master as Harry was to have found a helpful elf. House-
elves were social beings that preferred to keep busy with work to feel useful. In his previous
life, Kreacher spent about a decade alone after Walburga’s death with only Regulus’
unfulfilled last order to keep him company. How lonely the elf must have been. No wonder
this time he jumped at the chance when a potential new master presented himself.

“I’ll write to you when I’m at Hogwarts,” Harry promised when his tears had finally dried up.
“And I’ll call you to come help me with at least one project, but probably more.”

“Kreacher will come and be helping the little Master.”

Harry took his time loading up the books in his trunk and checking out all the titles. There
were books on all sorts of subjects. The classes taught at Hogwarts, naturally, but also
subjects like enchanting, warding and spell-crafting and Harry was looking forward to
reading them all. No matter what Voldemort claimed, Harry would make an excellent
Ravenclaw these days. Harry’s newfound love for reading had started a year ago during their
stay in the tent. There was only so many times Harry could take being beaten at chess by Ron
before he went bonkers so he’d taken to reading some of the many books Hermione had
packed. First to research horcruxes but soon because he realised that reading books meant
learning new magic and he had plenty of time to practise magic all day long. It seemed like a
silly thing that Harry had never before realized there were actual practical spells to learn from
books, seeing as he’d spent six years in a school of magic, but Harry blamed first the
Dursleys for that, for having punished him if he so much as looked at a book with interest or
if he had a decent rapport card, and later Ron and his lacklustre studying habits had rubbed
off on Harry. Who wanted to read boring books when there was Quidditch to be played and
rule-breaking adventures to be had. Nowadays Harry was just glad he’d matured enough to
have realized reading books and learning new magic were good things that improved his
overall life and dramatically increased his chances of survival when there were people around
who wanted him dead.

Kreacher popped his trunk to his bedroom as Harry had opted to stay at Grimmauld Place the
night before going to Hogwarts. The Knight Bus would be insanely busy and crowded the
morning of September first and Harry didn’t want to ask the Dursleys to drive him. And
Harry knew from experience it was an easy walk to King’s Cross station from Grimmauld
Place.

Harry walked into the bathroom adjacent his bedroom and splashed some water in his face.
He hadn’t needn’t his glasses since a week ago and the evening before Harry had used the
eye potion for the last time, very happy with the results. But as he studied his reflection Harry
was disappointed to see he still resembled his father a great deal, even without the glasses. It
wasn’t so much his face, though the shape of it and his eyebrows was all James Potter while
his nose and mouth much closer resembled his mother. It was the unruly hair that made
anyone think of James the moment they saw him. And as much as Harry loved his parents, he
wanted people to see him as his own person and not a copy of his father with all the
expectations that came with that.

“Kreacher.” Harry handed the elf a handful of Galleons. “Please get me some hair growing
potion and some hair ties from Diagon Alley.”

Kreacher popped away and returned in minutes, holding a bottle and a little satchel filled
with soft, black hair ties.

“Thanks,” Harry said, barely glanced at the instructions on the bottle and took a big gulp.
Immediately his scalp started itching like crazy and Harry watched his reflection in
astonishment as his hair grew and grew until it reached well beyond his butt.

Kreacher released a snort and quickly bowed his head to hide his amusement.

“Please tell me you know how to cut hair,” Harry said with a fond smile. A few flicks of
Kreacher’s fingers later and Harry’s hair just touched his shoulders and he could easily pull it
in a ponytail. It would take some getting used to, but when admiring his new hairdo in the
mirror Harry was pleased to note the immediate resemblance to James Potter had lessened
significantly. The only downside was that his scar was on full display with his hair pulled
back, but Harry figured he could live with that. It’s not like he was trying to hide who he was
once he started school.

Harry enjoyed an amazing dinner of pan-fried duck breast with asparagus and roasted
potatoes, followed by a big slice of treacle tart, and after one more cup of tea he turned in for
the night, full of nervous anticipation for his upcoming trip on the Hogwarts Express.

After a long shower and a luxurious breakfast of poached eggs, freshly sliced fruit and
croissants, Kreacher handed him a packed lunch, hugged his legs and sent him on his way.
Harry had released Hedwig the previous evening with instructions to fly to Hogwarts so she
wouldn’t have to sit in a cramped cage all day. His trunk was in his pocket and Harry only
carried Regulus’ leather book bag containing a few books, robes to put on over his trousers
and shirt when they got to Hogwarts and his lunch.

The walk to the station was pleasant enough and Harry was happy to stretch his legs before
having to sit down for the rest of the day. He got to the station at just after ten and without a
big trunk to weigh him down it was easy to slip unnoticed through the barrier. The platform
wasn’t too crowded yet, though there were plenty of families milling about. Nobody took
notice of Harry, which gave Harry the opportunity to look for certain people. Some to meet
and some to avoid.

Hermione’s parents were just leaving the platform so Hermione was already on the train.
Definitely an avoid right there. Harry was pleased to see a hat with a stuffed vulture above
the heads of others. Now to find Neville and arrange a meeting. Harry hadn’t forgotten
Neville was the only one who had loudly objected during his trial, and Harry was determined
to become his friend from the start this time around. He found Neville struggling to get his
trunk on the train and since Harry had his hands free he grabbed hold of the trunk to help
him.

“Thank you,” Neville whispered, giving Harry a wide-eyed look.

“First year, right? Want to find a compartment together?” When Neville nodded Harry led the
way through the carriage. He spotted Hermione sitting in an otherwise empty compartment
but he breezed past it. “I think I see an empty one up ahead,” he told Neville over his
shoulder.

He waved Neville inside their compartment and while Neville was busy storing his trunk,
Harry got his wand out and cast a silent notice-me-not charm on the door. He was hoping for
a quiet train ride without interruptions from unwelcome elements like Ron and Draco so he
could lay the foundation for his friendship with Neville.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” Harry said once they sat down opposite each other. “Harry Potter.”

Neville gaped at him for three seconds and then he remembered his manners. “Pleased to
meet you. I’m Neville Longbottom.”

“Longbottom?” Harry frowned, pretending to think. “I’m pretty sure my aunt mentioned my
parents being friends with a pair of Longbottoms.”

It was one of the strategies Harry had decided on because he realized there was no way he
wasn’t going to slip up sooner or later and mention someone or something he shouldn’t know
about as a muggle-raised eleven-year-old. But who was to say Lily hadn’t kept her beloved
muggle sister Petunia up to date on the happenings in the wizarding world. And Petunia,
amazing aunt that she was, had shared all these details with her sweet little nephew. So
whenever Harry needed to conveniently be aware of something magical, from now on
Petunia was getting the blame. After all, not even Mrs Figg knew what was or wasn’t
discussed at the Dursleys’ behind closed doors.

“Yeah, those were probably my parents,” Neville said with a slightly pained grimace.

“I’m sorry for what happened to them.” Harry leaned forward in a show of sympathy. “They
were good and brave people.”

“Thank you.” Neville managed a small, slightly surprised, smile. “Your parents were the
same.”
“Thanks,” Harry said as he sat back again. He deliberately brought up Neville’s parent so
soon because he wanted Neville to know he knew his secrets and he would keep them.
Besides, they were both kids who had grown up without their parents and Harry wanted to
draw attention to their similarities. “So what House do you think you’re going to be in?”

“Oh.” Neville shifted a little, clearly torn about the subject. “My gran wants me in
Gryffindor, but I’ll probably end up in Hufflepuff.”

“And what’s wrong with Hufflepuff? Badgers are ferocious little things.” Harry grinned at
Neville’s baffled expression.

“There’s nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, I agree,” Neville said quickly, obviously worried he
might have insulted Harry somehow. “What about you?”

“I’m hoping for Ravenclaw. I love learning. But I have it on good authority I’d also make an
excellent Gryffindor or Slytherin, so we’ll see where I end up.”

“Slytherin?” Neville whispered, shocked. “But You Know Who was in Slytherin.”

“And? The man who betrayed my parents and me to Voldemort was a Gryffindor. There’s
rotten apples in all Houses as far as I’m concerned. Same with good people, you can find a
few in any House.” Harry shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned but meanwhile carefully
monitoring Neville’s reaction. Harry wanted to establish right from the start that he was the
kind of person who saw beyond House boundaries.

Neville was quiet for a moment, frowning as he mulled over Harry’s response. “You’re right I
guess. What classes are you looking forward to?”

And they were off chatting about the things they were interested in. Harry barely noticed as
the train pulled out of the station. A while later Neville produced some cards and taught him
how to play exploding snap. Once the trolley lady passed by their compartment Harry
quickly opened the door to order some chocolate frogs and liquorice wands while Neville got
some chocolate frogs and sugar quills for himself. Both had a few chocolates and compared
cards and saved the rest as a treat for when they were at school. Harry and Neville, who also
had a packed lunch probably courtesy of a Longbottom house-elf, shared the food between
them, trying some things the other had brought.

Draco marched up and down the corridor a few times, clearly looking for Harry, and
surprisingly Ron also appeared a time or two. But thanks to Harry’s spell work neither
noticed their compartment and Harry and Neville had a very quiet and pleasant trip.

“Hey, Neville,” Harry said as they were pulling on their robes when they were nearing
Hogsmeade station. “Let’s promise to stay friends, no matter where we are sorted.”

Neville’s smile started shy but quickly grew brighter. “Yeah, I would like that.”

Harry resized his trunk and left it in the compartment lest the elves get confused when they
couldn’t find his, and then he and Neville were swept out of the train amidst the throng of
other students. Hagrid called for the first years and Harry ignored him as he and Neville made
their way to the boats. He’d never met Hagrid in this life, after all. They managed to snag a
boat with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot and Harry was quick to introduce himself and
Neville. Susan Bones especially was an incredibly good ally to have what with her aunt
Amelia Bones being the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry made sure to mention he
was hoping there would be study groups and if there weren’t he’d start one. Not only did it
make him look like a Ravenclaw, but it gave him an excuse to invite these girls to join his
group later.

The trip across the lake was impressive and Harry’s heart constricted for a moment as he
looked at Hogwarts in all her glory, untouched by the ravishes of battle. The boat beside them
held Hermione, who couldn’t stop talking about everything she had read, Ron, who couldn’t
stop complaining about Hermione, Daphne Greengrass, who looked three seconds away from
hexing them both and Blaise Zabini, who had clearly mastered the art of simultaneously
looking very unimpressed and obviously amused.

Harry shared a look with Neville, who had also noticed the noise coming from the other boat,
and they both stifled some laughs. Seeing Ron and Hermione, young as they were, did things
to Harry. There was a nostalgic longing for the times when everything was great between
them when they’d been the best of friends, and there was a seething and sharp need for
vengeance for the pain they’d caused him. But Harry had decided weeks ago he wasn’t going
to actively seek revenge on his former friends, mainly because they hadn’t done anything to
him yet and Harry wasn’t about to hurt two eleven-year-olds just to make himself feel better.
He wasn’t that kind of person. But he was going to get a little bit of revenge in a small way
by ignoring them. After all, both Ron and Hermione had formed their previous identities
around being Harry Potter’s best friend. And the only reason they’d even become friends
with each other was because of Harry.

Without Harry, it was entirely possible their futures would be far less bright than they had
been the first time around. Hermione had an incredibly abrasive and domineering personality
and very few social skills, especially when she was this young, and she did not get on with
Lavender and Parvati, her roommates, mainly because she believed herself better than them.
She’d be stuck in a House where all her best attributes, her intelligence and work ethic,
would be seen as a negative instead of a positive trait. The chances of her making any friends
on her own in the next few years were very slim.

And Ron with his crippling insecurities and lacking any motivation to rise above his older
brothers by his own means, to work for improving himself and his circumstances. What
chance did he have of getting any sort of decent grades without Hermione breathing down his
neck? Ron lacked what made his brothers great. Bill’s magical talents and Charlie’s and
Percy’s ambition and the twins’ intelligence. What future would he have without Kingsley
offering him his dream job on a silver platter? Without Harry and their adventures, the future
for Ron looked to be a desk job at the Ministry, perhaps even in Arthur Weasley’s own office
arranged by Arthur himself by calling in some favours.

Yeah, Harry knew that ignoring Ron and Hermione, excluding them from whatever social
circles Harry would be building and maintaining, would be vengeance enough.
The trip across the lake ended soon enough and Harry followed Neville inside the entrance
hall. Harry hung back a little, presenting his profile to the other students so they wouldn’t
notice his scar. Some kids were looking around for him, Draco asking a very confused Dean
Thomas if he’d seen Harry Potter because he was supposed to be in their year. But they were
expecting a miniature James Potter with glasses and Harry was very glad he’d gone through
the trouble of fixing his eyes. Neville noticed Harry’s reluctance to be recognized and played
along by positioning himself in front of Harry, blocking him a little from view.

The ghosts did their little introduction and then McGonagall gave her little speech and then
finally they were allowed into the Great Hall. Harry didn’t have to pretend too hard to be
amazed by what he was seeing. The last time he’d seen the Great Hall it was still in
shambles. Just seeing it whole again brought a smile to Harry’s face.

The sorting began and there were no changes from the first time. Hermione went to
Gryffindor, and so did Neville. Harry wasn’t surprised. He knew Neville would grow up to be
the kind of young man who defied Voldemort to his face, decapitated an enormous venomous
snake and later shouted his objections at the whole Wizengamot. He was a Gryffindor
through and through. Harry applauded extra hard for him.

Before long Harry’s name was called and Harry ignored all the excited voices around him as
he sat down on the little stool and the hat was dropped on his head.

“Now what do we have here,” the hat said in his head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve sat
under me and you did very well in Gryffindor, but after the betrayal you suffered it’s no
longer the House for you.”

“Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw,” Harry thought with all his might.

The hat chuckled dustily. “Just because you have learned, Mr Potter, that reading a book once
in a while isn’t the end of the world doesn’t mean you’re suddenly a Ravenclaw. With all
your current ambitions and your manipulations of your friends there is only one place for
you.”

“Oh, come on.” Harry could see where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit. “If you
sort me there Dumbledore will never trust me again.”

“Mr Potter, no matter where I sort you, the headmaster will never trust you knowing what he
knows about your soul.”

“How about Hufflepuff?” Harry tried, feeling rather desperate now.

“Those poor badgers wouldn’t survive you and your schemes. No, Mr Potter, your new friend
was quite right. You belong in... SLYTHERIN.”

Well, fuck.

Voldemort was going to be absolutely insufferable about this, wasn’t he?

 Chapter 6
Chapter Summary

Harry's first day at school, filled with friends old and new. Oh, and one smug Dark Lord.

Three soft claps echoed through the otherwise silent hall. It was Neville, who quickly stopped
clapping when he realized he was the only one applauding. Handing the hat back to
McGonagall, Harry hopped off the stool and smiled up at his former Head of House, who
looked rather like Harry had just smacked her in the face with a dead mackerel. Harry didn’t
think he’d ever seen her look quite so gobsmacked before. He gave Neville a little wave and
a shrug, as if to say ‘what can you do about that silly old sorting hat’, and then he walked
towards the Slytherin table as if he wasn’t at all upset with his sorting. He ducked his head a
little, pretending to be a little overwhelmed by everyone’s quiet attention and he quickly sat
down beside Theodore Nott and opposite Pansy Parkinson.

McGonagall finally snapped out of it and called the next student. Harry offered his fellow
Slytherins a warm smile and then pretended to watch the Sorting while he really used the
opportunity to look at the teachers and see how they were faring.

Snape’s eyes were narrowed, mouth pinched, as if he was convinced that Harry’s sorting was
just one big prank he had thought up. No surprises there. Beside him sat Quirrell, without a
turban, but also without any hair on his head. Harry wasn’t sure if the man had always been
bald or not, or if it was a consequence of having hosted Voldemort for a brief time. Other
than that, Quirrell looked healthy and whole and he wasn’t paying Harry any attention.

Dumbledore bore a genial smile but his blue gaze was sharp as he stared at Harry. Smiling
back, Harry kept his expression friendly and his body language a little shy and after a few
seconds diverted his attention back to the sorting where Ron was sent off to Gryffindor. Soon
after Blaise Zabini slid into the seat beside Harry and Dumbledore got to his feet to announce
dinner in his own ridiculous way. Food appeared and students started chattering while they
piled their plates high with the many delicious dishes.

“This must be a shock, Potter,” Malfoy said from where he sat beside Parkinson. “You must
be disappointed to find yourself a Slytherin.”

“Why?” Harry replied pleasantly as he reached for the plate of sausages to serve himself one.
“I heard Slytherin is the greatest of all Hogwarts Houses. Are you claiming it isn’t?”

Malfoy sputtered as his cheeks burned red. “No, of course I’m not saying that.”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” Harry said, helping himself to some mashed potatoes. Next
to him both Zabini and Nott took sips of pumpkin juice to hide their amused smiles.
“But your parents were Gryffindors,” Parkinson said, her upturned nose wrinkled as if talking
to Harry somehow disgusted her.

“And I never knew my parents so I don’t see why that matters. I’m my own person.” Harry
shrugged and took a bite of potatoes. They were good, but not as good as Kreacher’s. “I
thought I might end up in Ravenclaw since I love learning,” he added after he swallowed.
“But the hat decided this suited me better so here I am, same as you.”

“What subjects are you interested in?” Nott asked him. He had a soft voice and quiet
demeanour and Harry didn’t think he’d ever exchanged a single word with him during his
previous life. Or had ever heard him speak at all for that matter.

“Lots to be honest.” Harry sipped his pumpkin juice, glad he got the opportunity to present
himself as a studious, eager student right from the start. He still planned to use a study group
to make allies across all Houses, his surprise Slytherin sorting hadn’t changed that. “Defence,
transfiguration, charms, definitely those three. But I’ve also been reading about runes,
warding and enchanting and they seem really interesting as well.”

“You weren’t lying when you said you could have been a Ravenclaw,” Zabini said, looking a
little impressed, and Harry used that opening to plant some seeds.

“Oh yeah, I want to learn as much magic as I can. I’m not sure I’ll be any good at all
subjects, though, so I hope there will be study groups. What are you two looking forward
to?”

“Potions,” Zabini said, followed by Nott’s, “Charms.”

Harry looked further up the table and Daphne Greengrass caught his eye and offered him a
tentative smile. “I’m looking forward to runes as well,” she said. “My mother is a Runes
Mistress.”

“Oh?” Harry perked up at once, which earned him a snort from Zabini and a chuckle from
Nott. “What books does she recommend for beginners?”

“I’ll give you some titles later,” Greengrass said and returned to her dinner.

Across from him Parkinson was still looking as if she smelled something foul and Malfoy’s
expression could probably best be described as complicated. He looked as if he wanted to
join the conversation more than anything while also wanting to insult Harry for daring to be
sorted in his House.

Harry kept his own expression friendly and open and reminded himself that these were all
children. Just a bunch of eleven-year-olds whose political opinions were largely their
parents’. They would all grow into their own at some point or another and Harry had years to
steer them away from prejudice and towards a more balanced worldview. “So,” he said while
catching Malfoy’s gaze. “What’s everyone’s favourite Quidditch team?”

And Malfoy was off proclaiming the Falmouth Falcons as the best Quidditch League team,
though he was quickly drowned out by Tracy Davis’ passionate speech of why the
Wimbourne Wasps deserved to win the league that year. They spent the rest of dinner talking
Quidditch, with all of the first-years chiming in at some point or another, even Parkinson who
seemed a closeted Puddlemere United fan. Harry chose the Tutshill Tornadoes as his team,
mostly because none of the other students supported it and this way he could join in the
bantering.

Dinner was over before they knew it and Harry was convinced he’d started off with a good
foundation to build his new personality on. Friendly, smart, eager to learn magic, happy to
socialize with his fellow students and debate important things like Quidditch. He was sure
some of the professors watching him, like Snape and Dumbledore, would have gotten that
impression as well.

Dumbledore held his speech, warning the students about the third floor corridor that was off
limits and Harry kept his expression pleasantly bewildered, as if he expected the headmaster
to be joking but didn’t find the joke very funny. Afterwards a pair of prefects led them to the
dungeons and Harry paid close attention where they were going. He’d only been in the
Slytherin common room once and that was years ago. The interior was the same as Harry
remembered it. Dark woods, leather furniture, green accents and wood carvings of snakes on
the exposed beams in the ceiling. A roaring fire burned in the big fireplace that dominated
one wall. Further in the back there were two doors leading to the dormitories.

“My name is Gemma Farley,” the female prefect said, and next the male prefect introduced
himself as, “Frederik Baddock.”

“Welcome to Slytherin House,” Farley continued. She was a petite witch, dark hair and eyes
with sharp features and a keen gaze. Baddock was her opposite in many ways. Tall, light hair
and blue eyes and a round face and soft features. “We’ll first hear from our Head of House
before we explain the rules.”

“Welcome to Slytherin, indeed,” Snape said as he glided out of the shadows behind them. All
the first years jumped, Harry included. How the heck did Snape manage to appear like that?
A secret door? Harry was at once determined to find it.

“You have been sorted in Hogwarts’ greatest yet most reviled House. The next seven years
will not be easy. The rest of the school will mistrust you, accuse you, fear you and they will
not care if you are guilty or not. In the eyes of the world a Slytherin is always to blame.
Therefore you must seek allies in your House. Only a fellow Slytherin knows what it is like
to be judged harshly by their Hogwarts House. There is strength in numbers and you will
stand a better chance of surviving, of thriving, if you do it together.” Snape paused for a
moment, letting his dark eyes roam over the faces of each and every first year. “I expect you
to work hard. I will not tolerate laziness. I expect you to not get caught, no matter what you
get up to. If you do get caught whatever points you lose will be the least of your problems.
You will wish for a week of detentions scrubbing toilets by the time I’m done with you.”
Snape narrowed his eyes to drive his point home. Beside Harry, Nott gulped. Even Harry was
a little intimidated by that threat. “Finally, my office hours are printed on the message board.
Internal problems should always be resolved with the help of a prefect first before bothering
me. However, if you feel you have an issue that needs my immediate attention, my door is
always open.” And with that Snape nodded at Farley, who started explaining some practical
things, like curfew, where to find the new password and about something called a house
meeting which took place every Friday right after dinner.

The moment Farley was done Snape swooped towards Harry and give him a withering glare.
“Potter, I want you to know I will not tolerate any amusing pranks or bullying behaviour.”

Harry blinked once and offered Snape a grateful smile. “Thank you for telling me, Professor.
At my primary school we had a few huge bullies and the staff hardly did anything about it.
I’m glad to hear that’s not the case here.”

Snape stilled, his expression frozen somewhere between a glare and a snarl for a moment.
Then he cleared his throat, glared at all the first years for good measure and turned on his
heel with a sharp, “Dismissed.”

Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Potter, one point, Snape, zero points.
Harry had already decided weeks ago that he was going to give Snape the Dursley treatment.
Avoid if possible and otherwise be unfailingly polite and never, ever give him a reason to get
angry with Harry or punish him. Now that Snape was his Head of House avoiding was going
to be a little more difficult but Harry remained determined to never do anything to piss the
man off. He had one huge enemy already in the form of Dumbledore. No need to add to that
list. That went not just for Snape, but for all his fellow Slytherins. Harry knew every older
Slytherin was waiting to see what kind of person he was, if he would fit in with them, but
essentially they were sharks circling in the water. The moment they smelled one drop of
blood, sensed one weakness, they would strike.

This was also why Harry was now absolutely determined to join the Quidditch team as soon
as possible. He’d planned to play Quidditch anyway because he loved it, but now that he was
a Slytherin joining the team would give him a certain status within the House and with
Slytherins status was everything. Harry made a mental note to approach Marcus Flint at some
point during the first week and show off his seeker skills. He was confident that once Flint
saw him fly he would be on the team at once.

Baddock called for their attention and the boys followed him through the left door to their
dormitory. There were no staircases, just a few winding hallways with heavy doors. The first
year Slytherin dorm resembled the Gryffindor dormitory quite a bit. Same furniture, different
coloured curtains. And instead of square windows that showed a view of the Hogwarts
grounds there were round windows that showed an underwater view of the lake. Six beds,
three on each side, dominated the room, with small desks and wardrobes beside each. The
door at the end of the room led to a bathroom with two toilet stalls, two shower cubicles and
four sinks.

Harry’s trunk was parked in front of the middle bed on the right side of the room. Malfoy and
Zabini were given the beds on either side of him while Nott, Crabbe and Goyle got the
opposite beds.

Harry sat down on his bed with a small sigh and took everything in for a few moments. He
was back at Hogwarts as a first year, he was a Slytherin and he had seven years to make new
friends and establish useful connections between the students of this school.
“Potter,” Malfoy said as he opened his trunk.

Holding up a hand, Harry cut him off. “It’s Harry. We’re going to be sharing a room for years
to come. The least you can do is call me by my first name.”

“Theodore,” Nott said. “Call me Theo.”

“Blaise,” Zabini said as he was hanging some robes in his wardrobe.

“Vince.”

“Greg.”

Malfoy sighed. “Fine, call me Draco.” Then he crossed his arms as he leaned against his
bedframe. “I just wanted to warn you to keep your possessions out of my space.”

Harry spread his arms to indicate he didn’t even have possessions lying about yet. He knew
what Draco was doing and why. Draco was terribly conflicted. On the one hand, Harry Potter
just got sorted into Slytherin and Draco definitely wanted a piece of that Boy Who Lived pie.
On the other hand, Harry being sorted into Slytherin took away from Draco’s own sorting.
Draco Malfoy was the only child of Lucius Malfoy and asshole though he may be, especially
in pureblood circles Lucius Malfoy was influential and powerful. He had money, political
connections and had gotten away with murder, literally, by claiming to be imperiused during
the war. Draco should have been the most important new Slytherin student this year, but
Harry had inadvertently stolen his thunder. So Harry would let Draco posture for a day or so
until the boy felt a little less insecure. But if Draco thought for one second he could
physically hurt him, Harry would smack him down. Hard.

“Just stick to your side of the room,” Draco said with a sneer.

“Sure. I think that’s something we can all agree to, right?” Harry replied as he glanced
between the other boys.

“I prefer a tidy room, so yes,” Blaise said with a knowing little smile. Harry got the distinct
impression that Blaise was a very observant person, young as he was, and that he knew
exactly what Harry was doing with Malfoy and why.

Across the room, Theo nodded. “Yeah, me too.” He was another boy who saw much more
than he led on, Harry was certain. Except instead of hiding behind a certain kind of aloof
amusement as Blaise did, Theo possessed an uncanny ability to blend into the background.
Harry decided they were going to be the first connections he was going to make in Slytherin
House. Draco and his posturing could wait.

Speaking of Draco, seeing as he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of Harry he’d gone back to
unpacking, meanwhile muttering how this was work for a house-elf. Harry followed his
example, without the muttering, and unloaded his clothing and got it stored in his wardrobe.
He left the rest of his belongings in his trunk for now. He didn’t yet know any of his
roommates well enough to trust them with his books, and Harry had added some impressive
wards to his trunk over the past few weeks. Nothing that would keep a determined Snape out,
but more than enough to keep most fellow students, including the older years, from going
through his things.

“It’s been a busy day so I’m calling it a night,” Harry said once he was done organizing his
clothing.

Blaise seemed to have the same idea and headed to the bathroom, toiletries and pyjamas in
hand.

“Shouldn’t we have a schedule for the bathroom,” Malfoy whined as Harry followed Blaise’s
example. “You can’t just all use it when I need to be in there.”

Harry shared an amused look with Blaise in the mirror as they both brushed their teeth. Harry
decided to take a quick shower so he wouldn’t have to in the morning and once dried off and
wearing his own pyjamas he crawled in his bed, closing the curtain with a flick of his wand.
He added a few privacy spells, that would keep the curtains closed and his roommates from
hearing him, and then he got the compact mirror out and whispered to it in parseltongue until
it activated.

“Barty Crouch,” he whispered, still in parseltongue, and the mirror connected, glowing softly
until Barty’s face appeared.

“Ha!” Barty said with a laugh. “Our Lord was right. Nice green curtains you got there,
Harry.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Harry said with a sigh. “The hat really wouldn’t listen to any of my
arguments. Stupid thing.”

“Face it,” Barty said, still grinning from ear to ear. “All that scheming you’re doing really,
truly makes you a Slytherin. Are your roommates all right?”

“Yeah, no problems so far. Draco Malfoy is posturing a little, but he’s a spoiled brat so it’s to
be expected. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott have potential, I think.”

“Nott the elder is one of our Lord’s most loyal followers,” Barty mused with a thoughtful
frown. “I don’t know much about the Zabini family, other than that they are purebloods from
Italy. I’ll look into them.”

“Thanks, Barty. I’m exhausted so I’m calling it a night. Talk to you soon.”

“Sleep well, kid.” Barty closed his mirror and the connection broke. Harry was tempted to
call Voldemort as well but he didn’t want to bother the man this late since Voldemort still
tired easily. Maybe he would talk to his soulmate tomorrow. Harry turned on his side with a
grin. He never got tired of calling Voldemort that, preferably to his face.

The next day arrived soon enough and Harry was glad he’d taken a shower already because
he remembered well the chaos of six boys all trying to use the facilities together. Harry
dressed quickly and was pleased that Blaise and Theo finished dressing around the time he
did so they headed to the common room together.
Gemma Farley was waiting for them with Greengrass and Davis by her side. “Frederik will
take the others when they show up. Come on, let’s get breakfast.” They followed her like
eager little ducklings through the dimly lit dungeon corridors. Harry again paid close
attention and thought he’d be able to find his own way to and from the dorms. The entrance
hall was buzzing with students and Harry kept an eye out for Neville but didn’t see him.
Farley led them to the Slytherin table and deposited them at the far end, closest to the head
table.

Harry loaded his plate with eggs, bacon and toast while pouring himself a cup of tea. Since
he’d had steady, full meals for the past month, nowadays he had quite the appetite. Blaise’s
plate looked similar to Harry’s but Theo stuck to a few slices of toast with marmalade.

“I wonder what our first class is going to be,” Harry mused as he slowly ate his breakfast.

“I hope it’s not history,” Theo said, stirring three spoons of sugar in his tea. “My cousin
Balthasar told me the teacher is a ghost who puts everyone to sleep.”

“A ghost?” Harry looked at Theo with wide eyes. “Can’t they afford to pay a real teacher?”

“Dunno.” Theo bit into his toast just as Malfoy and the other stragglers joined them. Not a
minute later Snape came calling with their schedules. He gave Harry a lingering look which
Harry returned with a polite smile and a quiet, “Thanks, Professor,” as he accepted his
schedule.

Their first class was History of Magic.

“I somehow feel as if this is your fault,” Harry said to Theo, despairing he had to sit through
years and years of Binns again.

“Think of it this way,” Blaise said with nudge of his elbow in Harry’s side. “We get an hour
extra sleep every Monday morning.”

“True enough.” Harry turned his attention to the rest of the schedule. First thing was history,
then Transfiguration and in the afternoon Defence Against the Dark Arts. Not too bad, but if
Quirrell put on that horrible fake stutter again Harry might hex the man, teacher or not.

Harry finished his plate of food and then spent the rest of breakfast sipping tea, listening to
Malfoy whine about the quality of tea they served and ignoring the many whispers around
him. Students, both Slytherins and the neighbouring Ravenclaws, but also Hufflepuffs and
Gryffindors were mentioning his name, craning their necks to get a good look at him and
loudly discussing their opinions of his sorting.

In his first life, he remembered the first few weeks had been filled with whispers about him
as well until it had finally died down for the most part. Back then, Harry had been so
overwhelmed by everything he’d hardly taken notice of it. In fact, if Harry had to choose one
word to describe his state of being during his original first year at Hogwarts, it would be
‘overwhelmed’.
Overwhelmed with being a wizard, overwhelmed by being away from his abusive home,
overwhelmed by living in a magical castle, overwhelmed by having friends for the very first
time, overwhelmed by everyone’s opinions and expectations of him.

He’d been so fucking overwhelmed. And wholly unprepared. Thankfully, that was different
now, and for a long moment Harry was almost grateful for the betrayal. Not only had it
opened his eyes in relation to people he once loved and trusted, it had also allowed him this
chance to do it all again, but with a different version of himself. Honestly, Voldemort wasn’t
the only one who was new and improved.

Before long they took off to get their books from their dormitories and then hurried to the
history classroom. Once there Harry saw they would be sharing the class with the Gryffindors
as they lingered outside the closed classroom. Harry smiled at a nervous looking Neville and
stepped up to him.

Or at least he tried to step up to Neville, but he didn’t get very far because Hermione blocked
his path. “You’re Harry Potter. I’ve read all about you in –“

Harry shoved his hand unceremoniously in her face. “Please, no autographs, I’m trying to
talk to a friend.” And he stepped around her without a backwards glance. Blaise snorted
behind him in amusement while Draco actually cackled.

“Hey, Neville,” Harry said while Neville looked torn between laughter at Harry’s antics and
worry about a fuming Hermione. “How was your first night?”

“Good. Great. How was –“

“Neville, you never said you knew Harry Potter.” Ron rather harshly elbowed Neville out of
the way and practically threw himself at Harry. “Hi, I’m Ron Weasley, and you’re Harry
Potter. Do you really have the scar?”

Harry, whose hair was tied back so the whole world could see his fucking scar, stared at Ron
in disbelief and then narrowed his eyes. “If you ever harm my friend again I will permanently
stick you to the ceiling, do you understand?” Harry didn’t wait to hear a reply but turned
towards Neville who was rubbing his side with a grimace. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Neville sighed as if the treatment he just received was the kind he was used
to getting his entire life. Harry vowed to change that attitude in his so far only true friend.

Ron was trying to get Harry’s attention by tapping his shoulder but Harry ignored him. He
kept reminding himself over and over that these were children, just a bunch of immature
eleven-year-olds who didn’t know any better. In fact, the way Hermione and Ron had
behaved just now was very similar to how they had behaved during their introduction in his
first life. It was Harry who had changed, who was no longer a child, who was a young adult
who had lived through a war and who had died. Twice.

“I should have known you’d just be another slimy snake,” Ron finally muttered when Harry
kept ignoring him and that was the moment Draco decided to get involved.
“Better a snake than whatever you are, Weasley,” Draco said with a practiced sneer. “Red
hair, vacant expression, second-hand robes...do you even dare to call yourself a Gryffindor?
I’m surprised the hat didn’t sort you in House pigsty.”

Ron’s entire face turned a blotchy red. “Yeah? That’s still better than being a Death Eater.”

Draco actually snarled at Ron. “Who are you calling a Death Eater, you ignorant weasel.”

Harry gave Neville an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about this. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Not your fault,” Neville said bravely.

“Maybe we can meet in the library after classes, without the entourage?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Neville said with a grateful smile.

“Look at what you’ve done,” Hermione said as she got right in Harry’s face the moment
Harry stepped away from Neville. She gestured wildly at Ron and Draco, who were yelling at
each other with their wands out, though neither seemed to know any spells to use. “They’re
going to lose so many house points.”

Harry shrugged, side-stepped Hermione again and went to stand between Blaise and Theo.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked no one in particular as they watched Ron and Draco
have at it.

“You did,” Blaise said, leaning back against the wall and openly watching the spectacle in
front of them. “You happened, Harry.”

Theo had his head bowed and hand pressed against his mouth to hide his chuckles.
Thankfully the classroom door opened at that moment and since it was Binns, who didn’t
even know what year it was let alone who his students were, neither Draco nor Ron lost any
points. Harry used the following hour to write a brief letter to Kreacher, telling him about his
sorting and what the school was like. Harry was certain that the old elf would be chuffed his
new master was a brand new Slytherin. Transfiguration, again with the Gryffindors, was all
theory, and Harry seriously started doubting his decision to go back all the way to his first
year because now he was stuck taking notes on the simplest thing he’d known for seven
years.

Lunch was a raucous affair, as expected on the first day back in school. Draco kept regaling
anyone who would listen, mainly Pansy, Greg and Vince, with a detailed description of his
verbal battle with Weasley. Their last class was defence and Harry was beyond grateful that
Quirrell wasn’t stuttering. In fact, the theory he taught them was well-presented even if
Quirrell’s teaching style was a little dry. After classes they went to the Great Hall for tea and
biscuits and to start their homework, though Harry planned to head to the library to meet
Neville after a bit.

As Harry stirred some milk in his tea the afternoon post arrived and an unassuming barn owl
dropped a soft package wrapped in plain brown paper on the table in front of him. Around
him students were getting mail so they paid Harry no attention. Harry pulled the package in
his lap and opened it enough to see what was in it.

It was a green and silver winter scarf, made from very soft wool. On top of it rested a small
notecard with two words on it.

‘Told you.’

Harry recognized the handwriting, having seen it in a certain diary back in his second year.
That smug bastard, Harry thought with a smile. He just had to rub it in, didn’t he?
 Chapter 7
Chapter Summary

Harry studies, writes a letter, makes a bet, and spends time between the sheets with his
soulmate.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Blaise and Theo decided to join Harry for his trip to the library to meet Neville. Though
Harry shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other, secretly he was very pleased by this
development. Phase one of ‘Project Study Group’ was complete now that the core group of
players had come together.

“Hi,” Neville greeted them, having secured a table for them. He looked a little nervous by the
two extra Slytherins, but Harry was quick to give him a reassuring smile.

“This is my friend Neville Longbottom, distinguished Gryffindor,” Harry said with a

flourishing gesture towards Neville. “And these are Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott,
accomplished Slytherins.” Harry made the same dramatic movement towards his roommates
and then slid into the chair beside Neville. “Good, now that we all know each other, tell us all
the Gryffindor gossip, Nev.”

Neville sighed and shook his head, though the corners of his mouth twitched for a second.
“Not so much gossip, just everyone losing their heads over your sorting.”

Harry snickered while Blaise and Theo sat down opposite them. “Let me guess. Harry Potter
should be in Gryffindor, blah, blah, blah. His parents were in Gryffindor, blah, blah, blah.”

“Pretty much like that, yes,” Neville said, fiddling with his quill. “It started in the common
room and didn’t stop when we got to our dormitory. This morning, I thought they might be
done, but no, they picked up right where they left off the night before.”

“Who knew you’d be so popular in a House you’re not even sorted into,” Blaise commented
with a disinterested shrug, but his eyes were far too keen and Harry just knew he was lapping
this all up.

“Yeah, makes you wonder why,” Harry said with a sigh.

“You know why,” Theo said with a pointed look.

“If you mean my marvellous defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, then I have to disappoint
you. That wasn’t me. I was one year old. I hadn’t even mastered the art of not shitting myself
yet. It was my parents that arranged for Voldemort’s downfall.” When Harry saw doubt
written across his friends’ faces he leaned forward in his chair. “Think about it. Magics using
a willing sacrifice are the most powerful magics in the world. Powerful enough to stop a
killing curse and return it on its caster, as it turns out.”

Harry had decided early on during the planning of his second chance that he was going to
demystify the concept of the Boy Who Lived. He wanted everyone to know that Harry Potter
was an ordinary young wizard. Smart and talented at magic, sure, but in the end just another
student at Hogwarts, not some mythical defeater of the Dark Lord and defender of the
Wizarding World.

In other words, he wanted to nip Dumbledore’s plans for him as the world’s saviour right in
the bud, so that when Dumbledore would eventually try to publicly encourage him to pick up
the mantle of the Boy Who Lived, no one would expect it of him and hardly anyone would
blame him for not going along with Dumbledore’s schemes.

Let his parents get the credit. In Harry’s opinion they were the ones who had done all the
work by giving their lives for him. They deserved to be recognized for that.

“I guess,” Neville eventually agreed after his friends had all sat in thoughtful silence for a
few long moments.

“It does make more sense than a baby defeating a Dark Lord even Dumbledore himself
couldn’t defeat and he made short work of Grindelwald once he got off his behind and
duelled him,” Blaise said as he opened his bag and got out his Transfiguration book.

“You’ve got a point,” Theo agreed, also grabbing his book.

Their homework for Transfiguration was to read the first two chapters and summarize them,
so Harry got to that as well. He opened his book, leaned his elbow on the table and his cheek
in his hand and pretended to read. He already knew this stuff as he’d reread all his
schoolbooks over the summer, so he could use this time to do a little planning. After dinner
he could look for Marcus Flint in the common room and approach him about Quidditch. That
was one immediate job as good as done. But his second job was going to be a little more
challenging.

The kidnapping of Peter Pettigrew.

And, Harry decided there and then, the liberation of the Marauder’s Map from the clutches of
the Weasley twins. It was officially his anyway, as James Potter’s heir. Before the betrayal,
Harry might have thought to buy it back from the twins to be nice, but now, after George had
been nowhere to be found as Harry stood trial in a packed Wizengamot, Harry wasn’t feeling
nearly as charitable. So stealing it back was the plan. But how to get into Gryffindor Tower
unseen. Harry could cast a pretty good disillusionment charm, but it wasn’t infallible,
especially not up close when moving around people in the Gryffindor common room. If only
he had his invisibility cloak, Harry thought with a frustrated sigh. He’d have to wait until
Christmas before Dumbledore deemed it time to return it to him.
Harry sat up a little as something occurred to him. Did he have to wait until Christmas,
though? The cloak was his property and Dumbledore had no right to hang onto it. Perhaps all
Harry had to do was make it clear to Dumbledore he knew about the cloak and was looking
for it.

Aunt Petunia to the rescue once again, Harry thought with a mental snort as he grabbed
parchment and ink.

‘Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,

My name is Harry Potter and I’m enjoying going to your school very much. My aunt Petunia
told me my father had a special cloak that turned you invisible. Only my aunt didn’t know
where it went. I asked at the bank and looked in my vault but it wasn’t there. My aunt said
maybe you had it or knew who had it. If we can’t find it my aunt said we will have to talk to
the magical police about it because it was an hairloom for my family and the police should
know it was stolen.

Thank you very much for reading my letter.

Harry Potter’

There. Simple language, a deliberate misspelling, and the subtle threat Harry would involve
law enforcement if Dumbledore didn’t cough up Harry’s rightful property. Harry stored it in
his bag next to his letter to Kreacher and got a fresh sheet of parchment to write down his
homework. They stayed in the library until fifteen minutes to dinner when Harry announced
he needed to visit the owlery. The other boys had also penned letters after doing their
homework so the four of them made the trek up the tower to send them off.

“Hey girl,” Harry whispered to Hedwig, who’d landed on his shoulder just about the moment
he entered the large room filled with all kinds of owls. “Take this to Kreacher, please,” he
said, handing her one letter. He didn’t want to use Hedwig to send his note to Dumbledore,
since the headmaster as of yet didn’t know if Harry had an owl and if yes, which one was his.
He’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible, so he used a school owl instead.

They said goodbye to Neville at the entrance to the Great Hall and Harry was pleased to note
that their little study group had been a success. Neville was a quiet, unassuming boy and
Blaise and Theo seemed to have no issues with him. Dinner felt like a routine affair by now
with Draco whining about one thing or another. Harry didn’t pay him much attention, instead
chatting with Greengrass about the practical applications of runes and how interesting they
were.

Harry went straight to the common room after dinner and he was gratified to see Marcus Flint
lounging on one of the couches, surrounded by Terence Higgs, Slytherin’s current Seeker and
Adrian Pucey and Silvio Montague, current Chasers.

“Marcus Flint?” Harry asked with a pleasant smile. Flint raised a single eyebrow and gave
Harry an unimpressed onceover.
“Potter. What do you want?” Flint asked in a low voice. Harry realized that he’d been a little
unfair in the past whenever he compared Flint to a troll. Flint had harsh features and was tall
and had frankly impressive biceps, but he wasn’t ugly. Not really.

“I want to make a bet with you,” Harry said, squaring his shoulders and tilting his chin up
just a bit, trying to seem confident. “I’m willing to bet you 10 Galleons that if you see me fly
you will add me to your team immediately.”

Flint threw his head back and laughed. “That will be the easiest 10 Galleons I’ve ever made.”

“One catch.” Harry held up one finger for emphasis. “If you don’t accept me on the team
after you’ve seen me catch a snitch, I will give you 10 Galleons, but I’ll also never fly for
Slytherin again.”

“Get lost, Potter.” Flint narrowed his eyes while gesturing with his large hand for Harry to
take a hike.

“My father, James Potter, was celebrated on a broom. Seriously, look it up.” Harry briefly
leaned closer to Flint. “I’m ten times better than he ever was.” Then he pulled back and
strolled towards the dorms as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You know where to find
me,” he called over his shoulder at Flint, who was watching him go with a calculating gaze.

Bait, set. Now he just had to wait until Flint bit down. And if he didn’t, Harry could always
arrange to accidentally on purpose fly on a broom where Flint could see him. Harry wasn’t
worried. He wasn’t the most confident person and he had plenty of doubts about his own
talents and abilities, but not about flying. Harry had never doubted his abilities on a broom.

Theo produced some cards once they were in their dormitory and they played a few rounds of
exploding snap as they wound down from their first day of classes. Blaise kept shooting
Harry questioning looks as though he could see Harry was up to something yet couldn’t
figure out what it was. Harry smiled serenely at him and kept his mouth shut. Just before
curfew Harry took another shower deciding he preferred to do it during a quiet evening
instead of a hectic morning. Once scrubbed clean and in his pyjamas Harry got into bed,
called out a good night to his roommates who were also all in various stages of getting ready
for bed, and closed his curtains. A few privacy spells later, Harry got out his silver mirror and
called out Voldemort’s name in parseltongue.

Voldemort answered surprisingly quickly. “Potter.”

“Soulmate!” Harry grinned for all he was worth. “I’ve missed you.”

Looking down, Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Also, thanks for rubbing it in. And for the scarf. I like the scarf. It’s very soft.” Harry
crawled a little further under the covers, getting comfy as he held the small mirror up to his
face.

“You’re welcome. Though how you could think you wouldn’t be a Slytherin is beyond me.”
“Wishful thinking.” Harry shrugged as best as he could while lying on his side. “Though so
far Slytherin hasn’t been bad. Except Malfoy whines a lot.”

Voldemort snorted. “So he takes after his grandfather. Abraxas was in my year and would not
stop complaining.”

“Did your Malfoy whine about tea as well?” Harry asked with a snicker. “Because mine spent
most of breakfast whining about the quality of the tea, which is ridiculous. It’s good tea.”

“Abraxas complained about everything. And yes, that included the tea.” Voldemort shook his
head. “He made the worst first impression on me because of it. I came from an orphanage and
had never seen such opulence as the opening feast at Hogwarts. Abraxas sat beside me and
kept complaining that the choices of food were too limited and the quality of the roast was
subpar. I’d never even had roast beef before.”

Harry had his fist half stuffed in his mouth to stifle his laughter. He could see an eleven-year-
old Tom Riddle give a Draco lookalike the world’s most condescending look for his spoiled
beyond reason complaints. “I’m used to it now,” Harry said after a deep breath. “But during
my first feast I kept looking around in disbelief that everyone was allowed to eat as much as
they wanted. Up until that point I’d never been allowed to do that. To me it was the height of
decadence that all these kids were loading up their plates with mountains of food while
taking it for granted.”

“Yes, attending boarding school was rather a bit of a culture shock,” Voldemort said, his lips
curled into something that might very well be called a nostalgic smile.

“Oh, you’ll never guess what I did today,” Harry said as he remembered the day’s events.

The smile slipped off Voldemort’s face at once, replaced by a look of deep suspicion. “What
did you do, Potter?”

Harry let his smile morph into a grin. “I sent Dumbledore a letter.”

Voldemort’s thin eyebrows shot up. “I never took you for a masochist. Why torment yourself
with contacting the old man?”

“Because that bastard has my invisibility cloak and I want it back, that’s why.” Harry rolled
onto his back and stared up at the curtains covering the top of his bedframe with a frown.
“Though how I’m going to hold onto my temper should he want to talk to me is a mystery.”

“Pretend you’re in a play,” Voldemort said, completely without irony. “It’s what I used to do
before I got a hold of my temper as I got older. Pretend you’re a character in a play, and that
character thinks and believes the opposite of what you’re actually thinking.”

“Huh.” Harry stared at Voldemort with wide eyes. “That might just be the best advice anyone
has ever given me. Seriously. Do you know how helpful this would have been a few years
ago?”
 Voldemort shrugged. “A few years ago I wanted you dead. Now my survival depends on
yours, so I’ll happily tell you my secrets.” An almost teasing smile appeared on his face for a
brief moment.

Harry realized what Voldemort had just said. “So you’re not going to make horcruxes again?”
He gave Voldemort a pleading look. “Please don’t make horcruxes again. This version of you
is so much better than the old one, you have no idea.”

“No, I have some idea,” Voldemort said with self-deprecating laugh. “I never realized how
truly insane I had become after splitting my soul so many times. Getting my soul glued back
together, as you like to call it, certainly put things in perspective. Looking back at some, or
perhaps most of my behaviour during the last thirty to forty years thoroughly convinced me
never to mess with my soul again.”

“That is the best news I’ve had since Death said I could go back and do everything again,”
Harry said honestly.

“Yes, this has been a rather unique opportunity, hasn’t it? And we’ve only just gotten
started.” Voldemort seemed entirely too satisfied with the situation, yet Harry couldn’t help
but feel the same way. They really had been given a unique opportunity. “Let me know how
your contact with the old man proceeds,” Voldemort said, suddenly sounding tired. Barty had
explained to Harry that the magic keeping the homunculus together was largely Voldemort’s
own and that it exhausted him to do the simplest tasks.

“I will. Good night, Tom.” Harry couldn’t help one last little dig.

“I will find a way to hex you through this mirror, Potter,” Voldemort said, and Harry quickly
clicked his mirror shut and snickered into his pillow. Who knew riling up the Dark Lord was
this much fun?

Harry closed his eyes and replayed the conversation with Voldemort in his head. He really
liked the advice about the acting and he was determined to practice it during conflict
situations as soon as he could.

When Harry sat down for breakfast the next morning he realized the opportunity for practice
would be happening sooner rather than later. A tawny owl dropped a short note in his lap.

‘Mr Potter

Please meet me in my office this afternoon at four to discuss the return of your property.

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster’

Harry guessed he was about to find out how good of an actor he really was.

Chapter End Notes

I'm overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you all so much for reading and
commenting.

Updates so far have been very frequent, but for the next couple of weeks they're going to
be a bit more sporadic since I'm getting a puppy tomorrow and life will be hectic for a
little while.
 Chapter 8

Throughout the day Harry tried with all his might to pretend he was in a play, as per
Voldemort’s advice. It didn’t take him very long to realize he’d already been doing something
like it when creating his new persona that he’d adopted since coming to Hogwarts. So far,
though, he’d been focusing on what he showed others. Now he needed to focus on what he
showed himself. Once four o’clock rolled around Harry had to be convinced he was a student
who had never been betrayed by Dumbledore.

Classes were simple, thankfully, which allowed Harry plenty of time to compartmentalize his
thoughts as best as he could, using some of the techniques he’d read about in his books on the
Mind Arts.

They had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs in the morning, and Harry used that time to
reconnect with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot. The class consisted of a tour of greenhouse
one, a demonstration by Professor Sprout and some theory, so Harry had plenty of
opportunities to exchange some friendly words with Susan and Hannah, and also to introduce
himself to Ernie and Justin.

In the afternoon they had double Charms with the Gryffindors and since it was all theory
Harry already knew he had time to focus on his own mind. He remembered from his first life
that it would be some weeks until they were allowed to use magic in Charms, Transfiguration
and Defence. Once again he briefly questioned his decision to go back all the way to his first
year, until he realized that if he’d come back later he’d have been stuck in Gryffindor with
Ron and Hermione and Harry knew he’d never be able to pull that off again. He imagined
returning in his fourth or fifth year when both Ron and Hermione had already been friends
with him for years and would’ve expected him to act a certain way. If Harry suddenly called
their friendship quits and started acting largely like a Slytherin, questions would be asked by
everyone. His friends, his teachers, Sirius, Mr and Mrs Weasley and probably Dumbledore
himself who might just decide that Harry was possessed by Voldemort’s soul piece and lost
his usefulness and needed to be finished off a little early.

No, when considering all those things, sitting through a few weeks of first-year magical
theory was well worth it. Harry now had the opportunity to shape himself and the world
around him in ways that suited his more mature self without setting off alarm bells in
everyone who had ever known him.

After Charms Harry had time for one cup of tea in the Great Hall before he had to leave for
the headmaster’s tower. Blaise and Theo didn’t ask where he was going when he excused
himself. Harry privately marvelled at the difference between Gryffindor, where Ron and
Hermione would have expected and demanded to be told where he was going, and Slytherin,
where Blaise and Theo were definitely curious about Harry’s destination but would never
expect to be told unless Harry decided to volunteer that information.

As he walked to the headmaster’s office, Harry repeated the role he was playing in his head.
A first-year, smart, enthusiastic, slightly ignorant about the magical world. He never had
friends before, and he definitely had never been betrayed by any of them, and he’d never
personally met Dumbledore before either, and he had no clue the old man wanted him dead.

Once Harry stood in front of the gargoyle he realized Dumbledore hadn’t told him the
password like he’d always done in his previous life. Did that mean Dumbledore didn’t want
to give the password to a Slytherin or was Harry reading too much into this? Looking around
as though he was confused for few moments, Harry eventually held up his letter and
addressed the gargoyle.

“Excuse me? Headmaster Dumbledore sent me a letter inviting me to meet with him. Is this
the right place? Can you talk like a portrait? Because the portraits here can talk.”

Harry stood staring at the gargoyle expectantly, but it never said a word. It did slide to the
side after a minute or so, revealing the moving staircase.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and stepped onto the staircase. Showtime.

The door to Dumbledore’s office was closed so Harry knocked politely and waited until
Dumbledore called out, “Come in!”

Harry pushed the door open a crack and stuck his head in, acting the part of a first-year who
still wasn’t sure if he was in the right place.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, wearing puce robes with embroidered golden suns, and
offered Harry a benevolent smile.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Harry said, making sure to add some awe to his tone as he
slowly stepped inside the office. “I have your chocolate frog card. I got it on the train with
my very first chocolate frog. Neville told me he had seven of your cards.”

Dumbledore laughed, blue eyes crinkling in humour. “Ah yes, having my own chocolate frog
card is one of my proudest achievements. How are you finding Hogwarts, my boy?”

Ah, so Dumbledore was going the grandfatherly route. Harry had wondered if him being a
Slytherin would change that. Dumbledore had certainly never acted this way towards Tom
Riddle, even when he was eleven.

“I love Hogwarts,” Harry said, and he didn’t need to act during that response at all. “I had no
idea I was a wizard until your letter came and then my aunt sat me down and explained things
and took me shopping.”

“Ah yes, Professor McGonagall told me your aunt accompanied you to Diagon Alley. Hagrid
was most disappointed he wasn’t able to take you to buy your school things.”

Harry frowned in confusion. “The gamekeeper, Sir? I don’t know him.”

“But you would have gotten to know him,” Dumbledore pointed out while looking at him
over the rim of his glasses. “Hagrid had important business at Gringotts for me, collecting a
package, you see, so he would have taken you with him that day. A good thing, too, since that
vault was broken into that very same day.”
“Someone broke into Gringotts?” Harry asked in astonishment, meanwhile mentally rolling
his eyes as hard as he ever had. Subtle, Dumbledore wasn’t. He must be desperate to make
sure a Slytherin Harry would still stick his nose where it didn’t belong, namely in
Dumbledore’s ridiculous Dark Lord trap. And that also confirmed what Harry kind of already
knew. That Hagrid had been sent to help him with his shopping only so he would sing
Dumbledore’s praises, vilify Slytherin and glorify Gryffindor, and most importantly to the old
man, set Harry on the track of the Philosopher’s Stone and his ultimate confrontation with
Voldemort, just so Dumbledore could see what would happen. If Harry would turn down any
offers Voldemort made him. In other words, if Voldemort’s soul piece merged with his own
soul was dormant or if it was pulling the strings. If Harry could be used as a sacrificial lamb
down the line or needed to be dispatched permanently right away.

Harry inhaled a deep breath when he realized where his thoughts had taken him. This was not
the time to think those thoughts. He had a part to play. “Neville told me about Gringotts,”
Harry said with all the imagined wisdom of an eleven-year-old. “He said no one ever broke
into Gringotts and that it was the safest place in the world.”

“And Mr Longbottom was right,” Dumbledore replied with an indulgent smile. “Except for
one other place.” Narrowing his eyes, Dumbledore leaned a little closer to Harry over his
desk. “Right here at Hogwarts.”

Pretending to think, Harry stared at his feet. So far he hadn’t looked Dumbledore in the eye
for more than a few seconds at a time. There were so many random and fascinating things to
look at in Dumbledore’s office that wasn’t a difficult or unexpected thing to do. “Oh. You
mentioned the third floor corridor, Sir. Is that where...” Harry trailed off as though he didn’t
want to betray Dumbledore’s secrets even to Dumbledore himself.

“Sshh,” Dumbledore said with a wink while placing his finger against his lip. “The less
people who know about it the better.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Headmaster,” Harry said much too loudly. “I promise.”

“I’m very happy to hear that, my boy. There are very bad people looking for this item.”

“They must be very bad if they would break into a bank,” Harry agreed easily.

“That, and much more.” Dumbledore gave Harry a significant look. “Most people believe
him dead, but I know for a fact that he is very much alive.”

“Who?” Harry asked, and then inhaled a sharp breath as though he’d just had a horrible
realization. “No, not him.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Lord Voldemort is still out there. Diminished, but eagerly
looking for a way to return to power.”

“Then it’s a good thing Hogwarts is the safest place in the world,” Harry said with a child’s
confidence that the adults around him would keep the world safe. He wasn’t willing to give
Dumbledore any ideas by acting like a Gryffindor and proclaiming he would take on
Voldemort. He was eleven, after all.
Dumbledore sat back, nodding. “Indeed it is, my boy. Indeed it is.” He opened a drawer to his
right and pulled out Harry’s invisibility cloak. “I believe this is what you came for.”

“You found it,” Harry said and offered Dumbledore the biggest smile he was capable off.
“My dad’s cloak. Thank you, Sir.” Harry reached for the cloak, but before letting go,
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows while his lips twitched.

“Now, Harry, you’re not going to use this to sneak around the school like your father did, are
you?”

“My father did that?” Harry wanted to roll his eyes so badly at that very obvious bit of
manipulation. How he never noticed these things in his first life was a mystery.

“Oh yes, he most certainly did.” Dumbledore laughed while folding his hands on his desk.
“Your father had an adventurous spirit and an impressive detention record.”

“I would never, Sir,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes as if he didn’t want the
headmaster to see through his obvious lie.

“I’m sure you won’t, my boy. Now off with you. Dinner starts soon and I’m told the elves
made pork pies. You don’t want to miss those, Harry.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry said, clutching his father’s cloak to his chest as he walked
backwards out of the office.

“You are most welcome.” Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes were the last thing Harry saw
before the office door closed and he rode the stairs down. He kept his expression happy and
carefree because he knew there were portraits everywhere and they all reported back to the
old man. As he walked back to the Great Hall he gently placed the cloak in his bag while his
mind was going a mile a minute.
Dumbledore and his fucking manipulations. Harry wanted to scream. Or hex someone.
Maybe both at the same time. He found it impossible now that he knew the truth about
Dumbledore’s real plans for him to not see all the little comments and hints for what they
were. Dumbledore’s step-by-step plan to turn Harry into a sacrificial lamb to be offered up
for execution when Dumbledore deemed it the right time.

What upset Harry the most was that in his first life he’d let Dumbledore lead him right to his
death and he’d loved the man for it. He’d been 17 years old when he walked to his death
because Dumbledore told him it was necessary. He’d actively committed suicide by Dark
Lord because Dumbledore had groomed him in such a way Harry wouldn’t even think to
question anything the old man said.

Inhaling a deep breath to calm himself, Harry reminded himself he hadn’t known better in his
first life because Dumbledore hadn’t wanted him to. Harry had been set up to be moulded
into a sacrificial lamb since the day Dumbledore dumped him on the Dursleys’ doorstep. It
wasn’t his fault.

Besides, he had a second chance now to do it right, and Harry vowed that Dumbledore would
never see the real him coming. And come for the old man he would, sooner or later.
Dumbledore would pay one way or the other.

Realizing he was still too upset, Harry decided against going back to the Great Hall
immediately. He ducked inside a bathroom and entered a stall, locking the door behind him.
He inhaled a few more deep breaths while he opened his bag and pulled out his invisibility
cloak. He cast a few diagnostic charms to see if Dumbledore had messed with it in some
magical way but the charms came back empty. Harry suspected the impressive magic of the
cloak itself protected it from tampering. After all, there was a good chance the stories were
true and Death had made the Hallows himself.

While he ran his fingers through the soft, shimmering fabric, Harry realized he might as well
get job two and three done. Wormtail and the map. It was dinner time, which meant most
students would be in the Great Hall. Ron would leave Scabbers in his dorm since, aside from
post owls, animals weren’t allowed at the tables during meals. And perhaps the twins had left
the map in their dorm as well. If not, Harry could always come back for it some other time.

Mind made up, Harry threw the cloak over himself and left the bathroom to make his way to
Gryffindor Tower. He’d walked the route so often it felt like going home in some ways. No
matter the kind of betrayal he’d suffered, he had been a Gryffindor for seven years and such a
thing was not easily forgotten.

Harry only needed to wait a few minutes beside the painting of the Fat Lady before a few
students came out to make their way to dinner. He slipped in right when the last student was
through the entrance and he was able to quickly walk across the common room towards the
dormitories without bumping into anyone. The first-year dormitory was the same one it had
been in his first life, and Harry was relieved to find it empty. He kept the cloak on as he
snuck towards Ron’s bed, expecting Pettigrew to be sleeping on Ron’s pillow as he always
did in the afternoon.

Except there was no rat.

Harry looked over Ron’s bed quietly, turning the sheets back and lifting the pillow.

Still no rat.

Ron wouldn’t have taken Scabbers with him, would he? Knowing Hermione and her worship
of rules, she would raise an enormous stink if Ron broke some by bringing his pet rodent to
the dinner table.

Harry swished his wand around and whispered, “Accio Wormtail. Accio Scabbers. Accio
Peter Pettigrew.”

Still no rat.

How the hell was Harry expected to find that stupid traitor. It took a moment, but then Harry
wanted to smack himself in the head. He knew exactly how to find the rat. He just needed to
collect it.
The twins’ third-year-dormitory was unchanged from how Harry remembered it. There were
a few prank spells hidden around the room, but nothing an 18-year-old couldn’t counter. The
same went for the simple wards on the twins’ trunks. George’s trunk didn’t have the map, and
for a few moments Harry thought he’d have to abort this mission altogether, but then he
struck gold in Fred’s trunk. He quickly grabbed the map, replaced the wards as best as he
could and hurried back to the still empty first-year dorm.

He unfolded the map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” A tap of his wand later and
Harry stared as the map came to life in swirls of black ink. Names appeared, moving through
corridors and entering the Great Hall. Harry riffled through the map until he found Gryffindor
Tower and studied that entire section until his eyes got so dry he had to blink a few times
while looking away from the map.

Still no Pettigrew.

He switched to the Great Hall and looked for Ron’s name at the Gryffindor table. Once
found, Harry looked and looked but couldn’t see Pettigrew’s name anywhere near him.

What did this mean? Was Pettigrew even in the castle? If not, why? Where could he have
gone?

As soon as he thought that, Harry got a sinking feeling. Voldemort had freed Barty after all,
the same as last time when he needed a new body. But then he’d had another Death Eater
helping him during that time.

Wormtail.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered and stuffed the map in his bag and hurried out of Gryffindor Tower.
Dinner had only just started so Harry could join his fellow Slytherins without raising too
many eyebrows. He vowed to question Voldemort the moment he went to bed later that night.

“Pettigrew?” Voldemort said with an inquisitive look after Harry asked him as he sat cross-
legged on his bed protected by his closed curtains and a handful of privacy charms if he’d
seen the rat. “Yes, of course I’ve seen him. I summoned him after Quirrell and myself freed
Barty. I needed my wand back, after all, and Wormtail had it.”

“How the hell did I forget that?” Harry muttered to himself.

“The question is,” Voldemort continued while cocking an eyebrow and tilting his head.
“What do you want with Wormtail, Harry?”

“He’s the key to getting Sirius out of Azkaban,” Harry said as he slumped against his pillow
in disappointment.

“Hm.” Voldemort frowned. “Wormtail is doing a little spy work for me at the Ministry
currently, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not see him turned over to the Aurors to see
your illustrious godfather free.”
“Fuck,” Harry sighed. He stared at Voldemort for a few long moments, but Voldemort’s
expression didn’t change. He remained calm but resolute. “I really wanted to get Sirius out of
Azkaban. He’s innocent and deserves better.”

“The dementors have destroyed his mind by now,” Voldemort pointed out, ever the
pragmatist. “What good would he be to you?”

“Not much, I know,” Harry snapped, hating that Sirius had suffered as he had. “But that’s not
why I want him to get justice.”

“Ah,” Voldemort said with a satisfied little smile. “Are you projecting, Harry? Is this about
the injustice you suffered and couldn’t stop, so now you’re determined to save someone
else?”

“What? No!” Harry sat up in his bed again and glared at Voldemort. “I want to help Sirius
because he’s my godfather and he deserves better, that’s it.”

“As you say,” Voldemort said, obviously not at all convinced by Harry’s explanation. “I have
need of Wormtail for the time being, but not forever. In our previous life Black didn’t escape
Azkaban for a few more years. Surely he could wait that amount of time once again.”

Yeah, Harry wasn’t about to let Sirius rot in Azkaban for another 3 years just because losing
Pettigrew now was an inconvenience to Voldemort. Just as Harry was gearing up to have his
first fight with Voldemort, at least in this life, Voldemort added, “And why do you even need
Wormtail? Just hire the man a solicitor.”

Harry blinked. “Wait, what?” If it was as simple as hiring a solicitor surely someone in their
previous life would have come up with it.

Voldemort sighed as he gave Harry a tired look. “Are you honestly telling me this never
occurred to you before? Bella used to gloat to anyone who would listen how her dear cousin
had been chucked into Azkaban without a trial. That the Ministry was so corrupt they
imprisoned their own people, who fought on their side, without adhering to their own laws.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Harry said, conflicting emotions coursing through him. Elation at
having possibly found a solution and anger at no one in his previous life having suggested it.

“It is that simple.” Voldemort held up a finger to emphasize his point. “However, I’ll never
claim that it will be easy. There is a difference. But fact is, Black was imprisoned without a
trial, which is illegal. A good solicitor will be able to get him a trial, or if Fudge and his
cronies try to deny Black his rights to a trial they’ll alert the media to the sheer amount of
corruption that is going on all the way up to the Minister’s office. But getting a trial isn’t a
guarantee that the man will walk free.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Harry remembered his own trial, how quickly people’s opinion of him had
changed from seeing him as a hero to seeing him executed and all on the words of a dead
man. “Still, it’s more of a chance then he has now just sitting in a cell, forgotten.”
“That much is certainly true. I recommend Harper, Coldwell and Post. They are not cheap,
but their reputation of never giving up on a client is well earned. Just getting their office on
the case will ensure Fudge will think thrice before trying to sweep this whole thing under the
rug or arrange for your godfather to receive an accidental kiss from a dementor.”

“Thanks. I’ll contact them and discuss Sirius’ options.” Harry’s gratitude was sincere. He’d
honestly thought handing Wormtail over was the only chance Sirius would ever have of
gaining his freedom. It had certainly seemed that way in his previous life. Harry wondered if
this was yet another case of Dumbledore claiming one thing and everyone just taking his
word for it. Then again, people like Tonks, Moody and Kingsley were Aurors. Surely they
would know enough about the law to know Sirius had legal rights to a trial. Perhaps
Dumbledore had fed them some manipulative little story to keep them from suggesting Sirius
simply hire a solicitor.

Or, Harry was forced to concede, perhaps Sirius’ mind had been too far gone. Perhaps people
had suggested to Sirius that he hire a solicitor but he’d refused to even consider it. Knowing
Mrs Weasley, she’d have kept such information from ‘the children’ and therefore, if Sirius
himself refused to talk about it, Harry wouldn’t have known.

No matter why he hadn’t known about the possibility before, he did now and he’d make sure
to hire Sirius some real legal help.

“Whatever happened with that letter you sent the old man?” Voldemort had produced a cup of
tea from somewhere and sipped it. Harry suspected Winky was at work.

“Oh!” Harry leaned on his side and made himself more comfortable in his bed. “He invited
me to his office to give me my invisibility cloak back. And there he proceeded to manipulate
the crap out of me. Or he would have if I wasn’t an eighteen-year-old reliving his life. He’s
also completely convinced you’ll come for the Stone.”

Voldemort chuckled and sipped more tea. “I do believe the old man is going to be thoroughly
disappointed this year if he’s waiting for me to arrive at Hogwarts.”

“If you change your identity you could walk right through the gates and Dumbledore
wouldn’t even know,” Harry said with a snicker. “Are you going to change your identity?
You still haven’t said.”

“And ruin the surprise? Patience is a virtue, Harry.” Voldemort’s thin lips twitched a time or
two as though repressing a smile.

“Yeah, but it’s never been my virtue,” Harry grumbled.

“I am aware.” And yeah, that definitely was said with a self-satisfied smile.

Time to change the subject. Voldemort was smug enough as it was already ever since Harry’s
sorting. “And I challenged the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team to add me to the
roster. Sort of.”

“I’ve never understood the appeal of sports,” Voldemort said with a puzzled frown.
“Mostly, it’s fun,” Harry offered with a shrug.

“I’ve never understood the appeal of that either.”

Harry gaped at him. “You’ve never understood fun? Well, that explains a lot.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had time to, as they say, just have fun. My childhood certainly didn’t
allow for such frivolities, during my early years in Slytherin I was too busy cursing my way
to the top of the food chain and then I was foolish enough to split my soul and any desire for
fun I might have had was destroyed.”

“That is the saddest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” Harry bit his lip. “And also one of the
most ridiculous.” He looked up at Voldemort and shook his head. “Fun isn’t something to
understand. It’s something you just do. Whatever you enjoy doing is having fun.”

“I do believe I’m the wrong person to hold up to your explanation,” Voldemort said with a
pointed look. “By your definition casting the cruciatus curse is hilarious.”

“No.” Harry brought the mirror closer to his face for emphasis. “That is not what I meant.”

“But in our previous life I certainly enjoyed casting it. Therefore, hilarious. Truly, fun times
were had,” Voldemort said with a completely straight face. Harry was impressed.

“You are so immature for a hundred-year-old bloke,” Harry said with huge sigh.

“Pardon me? I’m old, but not that old.” Voldemort put down his teacup. Harry noticed his
hand trembled a bit and he realized Voldemort was getting too tired and their conversation
was about to end, much to his disappointment.

These days, Harry realized not without some irony, both their idea of fun was bickering with
each other.

“It’s getting late,” Harry said and stretched out against his mattress. “Full day of classes
tomorrow, so I’m turning in.”

“Very well. I could also use some rest.” Voldemort nodded at Harry and was about to close
his mirror when Harry managed to sneak in a, “Sweet dreams, Tom!” before quickly
snapping his own mirror shut. He grinned against his pillow and decided he might as well get
some sleep since it was almost ten.

In the morning he was glad he’d called it a night reasonably early, when at godawful o’clock
Marcus Flint dragged him out of bed.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Summary

Harry shows off his Quidditch skills but the outcome isn't as he'd expected.

“You can’t just barge in here like this,” Malfoy yelled, his head sticking out from between his
curtains, hair as dishevelled as Harry had ever seen it.

“Pretty sure you’re not going to stop me,” Flint growled and looked at Harry, who’d ripped
open his curtains, wand in hand, at the first loud noise that woke him up. Reactions like that,
honed by a war, were not easily forgotten. “Time to put your Galleons where your mouth is,
Potter. I’m going to make some easy coins today.”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry was barely awake and even reached for his non-existent glasses on his
nightstand, even though he hadn’t worn them for a few weeks now. “Lemme get dressed.”

Flint stood with his arms crossed (and his biceps were really, really impressive, even through
his Quidditch robes) and watched impassively as Harry wormed himself out of his pyjamas
and into his school robes as quickly as he could.

“Follow me,” Flint ordered once Harry barely had his shoes tied. Harry did without
comment, though there were several sarcastic things he could have said. But he realized
pissing Flint off before he’d gotten to show off his seeker skills was a very silly thing to do.
Flint might call the whole thing off on principle.

They made the trek to the Quidditch pitch, which was still bathed in darkness except for
some strategic lanterns that were glowing around the seating areas. The rest of the Slytherin
Quidditch team was waiting for them. Harry knew all of them from his previous life, when
he’d played against them as the Gryffindor Seeker. Flint, Adrian Pucey and Silvio Montague
were Chasers, Miles Bletchley was the Keeper, Martin Overcliff and Gerald King were
Beaters and seventh-year Terence Higgs was the current Seeker and would need to be
replaced next year. Draco Malfoy had bribed his way onto the team with a handful of fancy
broomsticks once upon a time, but Harry wasn’t about to spare his feelings by not gunning
for the same position. He knew that on talent alone, he could beat Malfoy every time. And if
Malfoy wanted to play Quidditch so desperately, he could try out for Chaser in their third
year, when both Flint and Pucey would need to be replaced.

“This tiny first year here made some very big claims in the common room yesterday. Let’s
show him his place,” Flint said as he accepted the oldest, saddest school broom Harry had
ever seen from Montague. A Shooting Star that had probably been in use since Voldemort’s
school days. Possibly Dumbledore’s. “Here,” Flint handed the decrepit broom to Harry, who
gave no visible reaction. “You catch the Snitch, Potter, before Terrence here does, while the
rest of us provides some distractions.”

Harry noticed that save for Higgs, the rest of the players were all holding Beater’s bats. So it
was going to be like that. Harry didn’t mind one bit. He hadn’t flown in forever, not since his
sixth year at least. He’d lost his Firebolt the summer he went on the run and after the war he
hadn’t made the effort yet to replace it. That didn’t mean he hadn’t missed flying and chasing
a Snitch around, because he had.

“Ready,” Pucey said, and released the Snitch from the crate. Immediately after, he released
two Bludgers. Harry didn’t wait for further instructions but jumped on the old school broom
and took off. Higgs was right behind him, flying a Nimbus 2000, the same broom Harry had
owned during his first three Hogwarts years of his previous life until the Whomping Willow
ate it.

That heady feeling of freedom, wind whipping his face, heart pounding in his chest, greeted
Harry like an old friend. He didn’t even mind that the Shooting Star was by far the worst
broom he’d ever flown. It leaned to the left, the braking charms were decayed and it bucked
every time Harry made a sharp turn. Still, Harry didn’t let that stop him from enjoying being
in the air again. He deliberately flew in the path of a few bludgers to test his brooms
limitations and to warm up. Flint and the others didn’t hold back slamming the bludgers in
his direction, but Harry had been playing Quidditch long enough that evading them was
second nature by now. Oliver Wood had spent many, many cold and wet hours training them
for that, after all. He kept an eye out for the Snitch but for the first fifteen minutes it remained
elusive. Higgs kept up high, circling the pitch slowly.

Finally, Harry saw a glint of gold near the goal posts reflecting in the early morning light.
The sun was just cresting the horizon. Higgs had his back to it but was much closer, and
Harry knew in a one on one race he would lose thanks to his ancient broom. But Harry was a
Slytherin now, so perhaps a sneaky little manoeuvre was in order. Harry flew up slowly,
getting closer to Higgs. Just as Higgs was about to turn around and see the Snitch for himself,
Harry dove straight for the ground, barely evading a bludger Overcliff hit at him. Higgs,
thankfully, followed and Harry gained as much speed as he could, one hand outstretched as if
he was reaching for the Snitch. Higgs accelerated his Nimbus, which was so much faster than
Harry’s Shooting Star, that he completely overshot Harry and ploughed straight into the
ground.

Harry pulled up just barely, his toes scraping the grass, and he took off in the direction where
he’d seen the Snitch.

“MARCUS!” Montague yelled across the pitch. “MARCUS! THAT WAS A PERFECT
WRONSKI FEINT!”

“I’m not fucking blind!” Flint flew down to check up on Higgs, who sat up on the grass, a
dazed expression on his face.

Harry flew as fast as he could towards the Snitch and after a very short chase he plucked it
from the air. “Got it!” Harry shouted, waving the Snitch around as he flew down to join Flint
and Higgs.
Higgs’ mouth was hanging open while Flint stared at him with narrowed eyes. The rest of the
team touched down around them.

Slow clapping came from the shadows of the stands and Snape appeared, strolling towards
him as he gave Harry the world’s most sardonic applause. “Well done, Mr Potter,” Snape
drawled, looking down at Harry over his hooked nose as though Harry’s Seeker skills were a
nuisance that personally offended him

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry said, beaming, completely ignoring Snape’s tone.

“If he can pull that off on a hundred-year-old Shooting Star, I want to see what he can do on a
good broom,” Pucey rambled, and then looked at Higgs. “Nothing personal, Terrence, but
that kid is far better than you.”

“Yeah, I saw that much myself,” Higgs said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind being able to
spend some more time preparing for my NEWTs this year. I enjoy Quidditch, but I’m not
looking to go pro or anything.”

“He’s a first year,” Flint said, sharing a calculating look with Snape. “Is there a chance you
can get him on the team, Professor? Because with Potter flying like that we’ve got the Cup in
the bag this year. He’ll need a broom, too.”

“I can buy a broom,” Harry chimed in, already looking forward to flying a Nimbus 2000
again. It wasn’t a Firebolt, but Harry had always loved his first ever broom.

Snape nodded at Flint, ignoring Harry. “I’ll speak with the headmaster.” Then he glared at
Harry. “I expect you to attend every training, obey your captain and catch the snitch every
single game, is that understood, Potter?”

“Yes, Sir!” Harry was still beaming, and a large part of that wasn’t even acted. He really was
thrilled to play Quidditch again. “Thank you, Sir!”

Snape sniffed in sheer disdain, turned on his heels and marched back to the castle.

“I will get you the training schedule once we’ve worked it out with the other House teams,”
Flint said and slapped Harry on the back so hard Harry had to take two quick steps to keep
from falling flat on his face. “Welcome to the team.”

Harry handed the Shooting Star back to Montague and trailed after the other players back to
the castle. He honestly couldn’t stop smiling. Not only would this development help
immensely with his standing within Slytherin House, he’d now be able to spend at least some
hours a week flying, which would be a welcome distraction while he tried not to die of
boredom attending classes he’d been familiar with for seven years.

The other students of Slytherin were just starting to wake up as they made it back to the
dungeons. Harry found his roommates scattered around the dorm and bathroom in various
stages of undress. Grabbing his toiletries and a clean uniform, Harry joined Draco and Blaise
in the bathroom.
“What was that all about, Harry?” Draco asked as he stood in front of the mirror styling his
hair. “What did Flint want with you?”

Harry rubbed some soap on a wet washcloth and washed his face and underarms. “I tried out
for Quidditch today.”

“What?” Draco squeaked, comb falling from his hand into the sink. “You’re a first-year. They
don’t let first-years onto the team.”

Harry shrugged and dried himself off. “Snape is going to talk to Dumbledore about letting me
on the team as the new Seeker.”

Draco’s jaw sank open and his cheeks coloured red. “You can’t be Seeker. I’m going to be the
Slytherin Seeker.” Draco’s tone implied he was about three seconds away from stomping his
foot.

“Did you forget to mention that to Snape and Flint, Draco?” Harry asked sweetly, unable to
help himself from rubbing some salt in Draco’s wounded pride. He’d spent years riling up
Draco Malfoy and this habit was hard to break. “Because they didn’t mention anything to me.
Maybe you should go and talk to Flint right now to correct his obvious mistake.”

On Harry’s other side, Blaise buried his face in a towel to hide his snort of laughter.

Draco stared at Harry, narrowing his eyes, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he
tried to think of something to say. Predictably, he finally settled on, “Wait until my father
hears about this,” and he stormed out of the bathroom.

Harry chuckled for a moment, while Blaise shook his head. “Congratulations are in order, I
suppose,” Blaise said as they both left the bathroom.

“Not quite yet. Dumbledore needs to give his permission first,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure
what to expect from Dumbledore. He’d seemed perfectly accepting of Harry as a Slytherin
yesterday and he had made an exception for Harry in his first life, so Harry had good hopes.

Blaise shrugged. “Even if you don’t get permission now, Flint will definitely let you on the
team next year if he’s impressed enough with a first-year to want him on the team
immediately.”

“Yeah, that’s a very good point.”

They finished getting dressed and on the way to the Great Hall Harry explained to Theo what
was up with Harry’s early morning date with Marcus Flint. Theo was surprisingly
enthusiastic about Harry’s new Quidditch career, but then again Theo was a pretty big
Quidditch fan in general.

Just as they sat down at the Slytherin table, Greengrass and Davis joined them.

“Potter,” Greengrass said as she took a seat across from Harry.

“Please, call me Harry, both of you.” Harry had quickly figured out things were a lot more
formal in Slytherin than they’d ever been in Gryffindor. With the lions everyone called each
other by their first names right from the start, but with the Slytherins it was very much
expected you stick with last names unless express permission was given.

Greengrass smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m Daphne.”

“Tracey,” Davis said, and waved at all three of them. “Goes for all of you.”

Blaise and Theo repeated their own names and with that formality out of the way, Daphne
produced a sheet of paper which she handed to Harry.

“I asked my mother for a list of books for beginner runes,” she said as she reached for a
scone.

“Thanks.” Harry offered her a huge smile, genuinely grateful. He looked over the list, some
fifteen titles in total. He had bought three himself, was sure he’d seen another three or so
amongst Regulus’ collection, and he could order the rest from Flourish and Blotts. Hedwig
wouldn’t mind getting some exercise. As he tucked the list inside his book bag he realized
this was a perfect opportunity. “Daphne, Tracy, we gather in the library almost every
afternoon for a study group. Just something informal, but if you like you can join us today.”

Daphne and Tracy exchanged a look and then nodded at him. “Sure,” Tracy said while
buttering her toast. “We’ve got this afternoon off, so we’ll see you there early.”

That was when Draco and his entourage showed up. Harry could see that quite naturally two
groups had formed amongst the first year Slytherins. Theo and Blaise, and now Daphne and
Tracy seemed to gravitate towards Harry, while Parkinson and Bulstrode, and of course Vince
and Greg seemed to follow Draco around. From what Harry understood Bulstrode was a
childhood friend of Parkinson so it made sense those two would stick together. And
Parkinson had an obvious crush on Draco and from what Harry remembered would keep it
for many years to come.

Harry was pleased with this divide, and though he was determined that eventually he’d form
some sort of alliance with Draco and his cronies as well, that didn’t have to happen in the
first week. In fact, it was probably better if Draco and himself had some form of minor
rivalry for a few years even, lest Dumbledore think Harry was recruiting followers like Tom
Riddle had right from the start.

“How did Flint take the news of his obvious error in Seeker choices?” Harry asked with an
inquisitive look at Draco.

Gritting his teeth, Draco gave him the stink-eye. “This isn’t over. My father will talk to Snape
and make him choose me.”

In some way, Harry felt sorry for Draco. To be so spoiled that he expected his father to fix
every little bump in the road, and when inevitably Lucius came up against a problem he
couldn’t or wouldn’t get rid of, Draco had no idea how to handle things like disappointment
and rejection. Harry knew eventually Draco would start thinking for himself and
understanding that actions had consequences, but that wouldn’t be for many more years to
come.

So perhaps this innocent schoolboy rivalry would be easier to cultivate than he thought as
long as he kept the emphasis on Quidditch. Harry wasn’t worried Snape or Flint would
choose Draco on Lucius Malfoy’s word. Draco was a first-year and while he’d always been a
pretty good Seeker in his own right, he’d never been on Harry’s level, especially not now that
Harry had a few years of experience hiding up his sleeve.

“It’s completely unfair you are using your fame to steal Draco’s position, Potter,” Parkinson
chimed in, because of course that’s how Draco would have sold it to his cronies.

“You’re welcome to take it up with Flint or Snape,” Harry said reasonably and not without
some private joy at seeing them so disgruntled about his good fortune. “I’m sure they’ll be
ecstatic to take your advice on how to run the Slytherin Quidditch team.”

Parkinson raised her chin up in the air and turned to Draco so she could spend the next fifteen
minutes agreeing how unfairly he was being treated.

They had a light day of classes ahead. Herbology and Charms in the morning, the afternoon
off and Astronomy in the evening. Herbology was mostly theory with lots of note taking and
little chance to chat with any Hufflepuffs. As they stood waiting outside the Charms
classroom, Harry took a moment to observe the dynamics between the first-year Gryffindors
as they trickled in. In Harry’s first life he’d been so happy to have made a friend at all in Ron,
he had barely even looked at the other first-years during the first couple of months. Now he
had an outsider’s view and that view was fascinating.

Parvati and Lavender were best friends from the start and it was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Hermione stood to the side, occasionally shooting the other two girls looks that spoke of both
disdain and jealousy. Hermione had confessed to Harry during one of their many
conversations in the tent when they’d discussed anything and everything mostly out of sheer
boredom, that she’d always been jealous of her two roommates and their easy friendship
while at the same time deriding them for their poor attitude towards learning and studying.

Seamus and Dean had formed a similar quick friendship and Ron was trying to squeeze
himself into that dynamic but it was clear to anyone who looked that he didn’t quite fit. He
mostly just stayed close to them, shooting them covetous looks while Seamus and Dean hit it
off.

Neville stood to the side by himself but seemed all right with that situation. He offered Harry
a smile, which Harry returned right before Flitwick called them inside.

After lunch, Harry and his Slytherins, as he’d started calling them in his head, made their
way to the library. They found the table they’d used previously still empty and
commandeered it. Neville joined them a few minutes later.

“Neville Longbottom,” Neville introduced himself with a little bow at Daphne and Tracy.
“Pleased to meet you.” Neville may be an insecure boy unaware of his own strength as of yet,
but he’d always had manners and was generally polite. Harry could see that went over very
well with Daphne and Tracy, who introduced themselves to Neville in a similar fashion.

They had short essays to write for Charms and Herbology and while everyone was getting
out their books and parchment, Harry disappeared into the stacks to find some reference
material for their homework and to take a look at the Runes section and see if he couldn’t
find any of the titles on Daphne’s list just so he’d have something to read later in bed. But he
never made it to the Runes section since he bumped into Susan Bones.

Harry wasn’t about to waste such an opportunity. “Susan, we’ve started an informal little
study group. If you and Hannah want to join us you’d be most welcome.”

“Oh, that sounds great,” Susan said with a shy smile as she clutched a Herbology book to her
chest. “But we’re sitting with Justin and Ernie right now.”

“Bring them along,” Harry said at once, so happy he could have kissed Susan. With those
four Hufflepuffs he’d be adding a half-blood, Hannah, and a muggleborn, Justin, to his group.
Harry was well aware he’d only collected purebloods so far and the last thing he wanted was
people to think he was prejudiced in some way.

“That’s great. Thanks, Harry, we’ll be right over.” Susan disappeared again, but Harry hardly
heard her because he just realized what he’d been thinking.

Was he really trading his fellow students like chocolate frog cards in the privacy of his own
mind? My god, he’d turned into Slughorn Junior, hadn’t he? He’d actually started collecting
people.

Fuck. He really was a Slytherin. There was no denying it now.

Voldemort must never find out Harry had started acting like Slughorn or he’d never stop
bringing it up.

With a sigh, Harry made his way back to the others and after introductions were made and
chairs were added, Harry’s study group had grown exponentially in just a day. Theo and
Blaise seemed a little doubtful about the inclusion of Justin but kept their opinion to
themselves, probably because they wanted to see what Harry was really up to with his new
collection of first-years. Neville became their most popular member, at least for the
afternoon, when Harry mentioned his talents in Herbology and he helped them all along with
their essay.

All in all, Harry was most satisfied with his day so far when they went down to dinner. Of
course that meant something had to go wrong eventually to balance out all of that good luck.

“Potter,” Flint said, coming up behind Harry just as he’d finished eating. “Snape wants to see
us.”

“Sure,” Harry said, grabbing his bag as he got up. “See you later,” he added to his Slytherins.
He followed Flint, Higgs joined them at the door to the Great Hall, and they made their way
down to Snape’s office.
Snape sat behind his desk, elbows resting on the wood, fingers woven together. “I have
spoken with the headmaster. At this time he won’t give Potter permission to join our
Quidditch team as the new Seeker. The headmaster doesn’t believe it is fair to the first years
in other houses if they cannot also play.”

“What?” Flint’s expression resembled a supercell thunderstorm about to drop a few

tornadoes.

Harry himself was less than a second away from losing his temper and he had to rein his
anger in quickly. He was doubly pissed because he knew Dumbledore had given his
permission when he was a Gryffindor. But now that he was a Slytherin, Dumbledore
suddenly couldn’t make exceptions for him.

That petty old bastard.

Inhaling several deep breaths, Harry managed to calm down enough to remember he was a
Slytherin. “Professor,” he said to an unimpressed looking Snape. “First-years are allowed as
reserve players, I believe. I can join the team as the reserve Seeker, and perhaps Higgs will
fall ill a few times during the year at certain dates that might coincide with our scheduled
Quidditch matches. In that case, I’ll have to step up as Seeker to fill in for him.”

Snape’s lips twitched briefly as Flint released a huge sigh of relief. “Well, well, Mr Potter,
just as I was wondering what you were doing in my House, you have proven you might
belong here after all.”

“What about Potter’s broom, Professor?” Flint asked.

“Purchase your broom, Potter, and when not using it for training or matches give it to Mr
Flint for safe-keeping. And if someone has a problem with that send them to me.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Harry was pleased they’d found a way around Dumbledore’s
House prejudice. Had the old man always been this anti-Slytherin? It only took Harry a
moment to remember how Dumbledore had, in his first year, stolen the House Cup from
Slytherin in the most hurtful way, by letting them believe they had won first. So yes,
Dumbledore had never gone out of his way for Harry’s new House. Harry as a Gryffindor had
just never paid much attention to these things.

It took Draco an hour to discover the news of Harry’s new position and then he sought Harry,
Blaise and Theo out in their dormitory where they were paging through one of Theo’s
Quidditch magazines looking at new brooms. Harry already knew what he wanted but it was
fun to discuss all the different brooms and listen to his friends’ opinions.

“I heard you’re not the new Seeker. Just the reserve Seeker,” Draco positively gloated. “That
means next year I’ll make sure you stay reserve Seeker.” Draco almost glowed with the
certainty he’d be able to buy his way onto the team next year, completely forgetting they
were all Slytherins who liked to get creative with the rules. Draco gave Harry one last smug
sneer and breezed out of the dorm.
“Did he really not realize Higgs is just going to call in sick during our matches so Harry gets
to play?” Theo wondered out loud.

“I believe he was too busy composing a mental letter to his father to let him know next year’s
bribe of the Quidditch team was back on the agenda to consider things from a more creative
perspective,” Blaise offered.

Harry chuckled and looked between his two new friends and decided he’d done pretty well in
choosing those two. Of course, there was another maybe not friend but certainly ally who
Harry couldn’t wait to share the news with.

“Soulmate!” Harry said with a huge grin the moment Voldemort answered the mirror after
Harry had finally gone to bed once their astronomy class was over. “You’ll never guess what
Dumbledore did now.”

“I’m sure you will tell me. In great detail.” Voldemort looked about as thrilled with that
prospect as he usually did whenever Harry rambled about sports or friends or other un-Dark-
Lord-worthy subjects.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and let out some of that frustration he’d been feeling all evening.
“I tried out for the Quidditch team on a Shooting Star that was older than you and I nailed it.
Seriously, I performed a perfect Wronski Feint, and both Snape and Flint wanted me on the
team, so Snape went to Dumbledore to get permission and the old bastard denied us.”

“How dreadful,” Voldemort said, not even trying to hide his amused little smile.

“That asshole gave me permission in my first life just because I was a Gryffindor then. But
we’ve found a way around it. I’ll be reserve Seeker and Higgs will just mysteriously fall ill
during the matches so I can still play.” Harry waited impatiently for Voldemort’s response.

“Fascinating,” Voldemort said in the kind of voice one might use to describe the hibernating
habits of flobberworms.

Harry blinked at him. “Are you even listening? Because I can always call Barty instead. He’d
care about this.”

“Barty is a Quidditch fanatic. Of course he’d care,” Voldemort easily agreed. “I’m just
astonished you seem so upset about the old man’s prejudice against Slytherins. I assure you,
it’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d just never noticed it before,” Harry said with a sigh. “At least not to this
extent.”

“You were never a Slytherin before,” Voldemort pointed out.

“Oh, and I added a whole bunch of people to my study group today. Two more Slytherins and
four Hufflepuffs, including a half-blood and a muggleborn, to balance things out, you know?”
Harry was so bloody proud his plan to create allies across House borders was coming
together nicely.
“When will you be having your first supper party?” Voldemort asked with a sly smile.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re starting to sound a lot like Slughorn.” Voldemort looked
as though he had trouble not to burst out laughing at seeing Harry’s disgruntled expression.

“I’m nothing like Slughorn,” Harry denied because what else could he do. He wasn’t about to
hand Voldemort more ammunition.

“Of course, soulmate.” Voldemort’s grin was brief and razor sharp. “Goodnight.” And with
that he snapped his mirror shut.

Harry gaped at his own mirror. That... how... did he really just... oh, Harry was calling Barty
at once so he could spend an hour complaining about Dumbledore and Voldemort both.
 Chapter 10
Chapter Summary

Harry transfigures, brews and shops. And sends his soulmate a gift.

“And then he had the gall to use my own humour against me,” Harry finished his story to a
visibly intrigued Barty. “He called me soulmate and closed his mirror, that utter tosser.”

“Yeah, I can see how unfortunate your life is, Harry.” Barty snorted and shook his head.
“You’re effectively immortal, get to do your life over again and you’re best mates with the
Dark Lord to the point where you have funny nicknames for each other.”

Harry ducked his head, suitably chastened about his whining. My god, he’d been pulling a
Draco there for a moment, hadn’t he? Complaining about things that didn’t need complaining
about. “Sorry. It’s all a little overwhelming at times. Plus I’m suddenly surrounded by eleven-
year-olds all day. I think they might be rubbing off on me.”

“Nah, don’t apologize to me,” Barty was quick to say and then gave Harry a look that could
best be described as intensely focused. “In fact...thank you.”

“Huh?” Harry blinked at Barty. “What are you thanking me for?”

“Because I doubt our Lord would ever thank you for bringing him back improved, but that
doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful. As am I,” Barty said, his eyes shining a little too much.

Harry shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward. “That’s fine. No need to thank me.”

“I mean it, though,” Barty insisted. “Our Lord has told me a little about what happened
during your previous lives, how far off the rails he’d gotten when it came to his plans for the
Wizarding World. He never wanted to cause so much destruction. None of us do.” Barty
smiled briefly. “Well, at least not the sane ones among us followers.”

“Yeah, the Voldemort I knew during my first life was very different from the Voldemort we
have now,” Harry said while remembering some of the things the previous Voldemort had
done. “I mean, look at what he did with Hogwarts. If there is one thing Voldemort ever
genuinely cared about it was this school and he set the Carrows loose in it to cast the
cruciatus curse at just about every single student.”

Barty nodded in agreement. “Our Lord has always valued learning and education. That he
would purposefully sabotage Hogwarts in such a way is hard to believe.” Barty’s eyes
became a little shiny again. “I’m just glad you brought him back full of plans for
improvement of our society instead of its ruination.”
“Me, too,” Harry quietly agreed. “I’m going to sleep. I’ve got classes first thing tomorrow.”

“Ah, to be a student again and worry about nothing but homework and Quidditch,” Barty said
with a dramatic sigh. “Night, Harry.”

“Night, Barty.” Harry closed his mirror and burrowed under his blankets. It had been a very
long day and thankfully he was asleep in minutes.

The next day they had Defence and History in the morning, which meant at least one extra
hour of sleep. Harry needed it badly. Mentally he was fine with staying up well past midnight
while still getting up early for classes, but physically he was only eleven and he noticed that
his young body wasn’t used to having so little sleep.

In the afternoon they had double Transfiguration and Harry was happily surprised when
McGonagall handed out matches and instructed them to turn them into needles. His
memories of his first-year classes in his previous life were vague at best so Harry hadn’t
realized they’d be doing magic so soon in Transfiguration.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and considered how to play this while he pretended to read over
his notes. He wanted to be seen as talented and full of potential, yes, but he didn’t want to
come off as a full blown prodigy, for several reasons. Most importantly, he wouldn’t be able
to keep up that kind of facade the older he got. He was smart, sure, but he was nowhere near
the genius level of intelligence of someone like Voldemort. Or even Hermione. Besides that,
he didn’t want to draw too much attention to his intellect to the point Dumbledore might
grow suspicious his inner Tom Riddle was pulling the strings.

So he settled for smarter and more talented than his classmates, but not a genius by any
means. On either side of him, Theo and Blaise were waving their wands over their matches
with no result. Harry did the same a few times without actually using any magic. After a
minute or two he transfigured the match into a needle without changing the wood into metal.

“Ha,” he said triumphantly with all the pride of an eleven-year-old wizard who has just done
magic for the first time. “It’s a needle.”

“A wooden needle,” McGonagall said with a small but pleased curve of her lips as she
stepped up to his desk. “Try focusing on the whole needle, shape and material, instead of just
the shape. Still, this is well done, Mr Potter. Take two points for Slytherin.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said with a huge grin. Blaise and Theo were staring at his
wooden needle in amazement and across the room students were looking at Harry’s desk to
see what he’d managed to do in just a few tries. Hermione had even gotten up from her seat
and was craning her neck.

Harry kept transfiguring his wooden needle bit by bit while giving Blaise and Theo pointers
on how to do what he was doing. By the end of the class Harry had a silver needle and earned
an additional whopping five points. Blaise and Theo, and Daphne and Tracy who were sitting
behind them and had also followed Harry’s tips, all had managed a small transfiguration by
the end of the class, changing the shape a little or the colour. McGonagall seemed very
pleased with them while Hermione was frowning when McGonagall gave them all a point
each.

Harry briefly wondered how Hermione was going to handle not being the smartest in their
year this time. She’d always prided herself on being the best student, getting the highest
grades, especially at this age. When she’d become a bit older and more mature she’d toned
her competitiveness down a little, but right now Harry knew Hermione was going to have a
really hard time with Harry outshining her in every class.

A small part of Harry, the part that remembered the good elements of their friendship with
fondness, felt sorry for her. But then he remembered that she wouldn’t look at him as she
helped to sentence him to death and he suddenly didn’t care anymore about her hurt feelings.

His feelings had been hurt far worse by her.

After classes he excused himself to use the bathroom, and after he finished in there he locked
himself into an empty classroom without any portraits and called Kreacher.

“Little Master is calling Kreacher, and Kreacher is answering.”

“Hi Kreacher, how have you been?” Harry asked with a fond smile. He’d missed the old elf.
“Did you get my letter?”

“Yes, Kreacher is reading little Master’s letter and Kreacher is bringing little Master some
treats.” The house-elf handed Harry a pile of Welsh cakes wrapped in a tea towel.

“Thanks. I’m going to enjoy these.” Harry tucked the treats into his bag and gave Kreacher a
questioning look. “Could you go to Diagon Alley and order a Nimbus 2000 broom for me?
Have them send it to me here at Hogwarts.”

“Kreacher will be ordering little Master’s broom.” Kreacher accepted the money pouch Harry
handed him and popped away. And with a satisfied sigh, Harry crossed one more item off his
mental to-do list.

There was, however, one item on his to-do list that needed careful consideration and yet it
was also the item Harry was most eager to get going.

Hiring a solicitor for Sirius.

Harry knew that it needed careful planning because it wouldn’t make sense for a muggle-
raised eleven-year-old student to hire a solicitor for the traitor of his parents during the first
week of school. He briefly considered hiring a solicitor anonymously, but quickly decided
that these things never stayed secret for long, no matter how well intended all partakers of the
secret were. Better to find a way for Harry Potter to genuinely want to hire his godfather
some legal help, probably once he officially discovered Sirius had never had a trial.

Downside to this was that it would take time, at least a few weeks if not a few months. Then
again, Sirius had been in Azkaban for years at that point. A few months more or less weren’t
going to make a difference.
Upside was that Harry had a perfect way to discover his godfather’s lack of trial through his
growing friendship with Susan Bones. He didn’t want to drop all this in her lap immediately,
though, lest she get the idea he’d only befriended her for her connections. Which was true,
kind of, but he also genuinely liked her as a person so he didn’t feel too bad about his
calculated choices of friends this time around. All of the people he was currently surrounding
himself with were people he really enjoyed spending time with. He wouldn’t settle for
anything less.

So, during the coming month Harry would take an interest in learning about his parents,
discover the identity of the man who’d betrayed them to Voldemort, and get Susan to ask her
aunt about trial transcripts so he could see for himself why Sirius Black would betray his best
friends.

Satisfied with at least having somewhat of a plan concerning Sirius, Harry left the classroom
and joined his friends.

After calling it an early night without any calls to Voldemort or Barty, Harry was much
refreshed on Friday morning. A good thing, too, because the arrival of his obviously broom-
shaped package caused a bit of a ruckus, and not just at the Slytherin table.

Draco choked on his substandard tea and suffered a coughing fit while Parkinson started
complaining loudly about people abusing their fame. Second and third years were demanding
to know why a first-year was getting a broom. Students at other House tables were standing
up to see what was going on with those usually composed Slytherins. And Harry didn’t even
bother unwrapping his broom, but released the huge eagle owl from its burden and walked
the wrapped broom straight to Flint.

“Captain, if you could hold onto this for me, I’d appreciate it,” Harry said seriously while
handing over the package.

“First training is this Monday morning at 6. Don’t be late,” Flint said, accepting the broom
and tucking it away under the table.

Harry nodded at him and sauntered back to his seat as if nothing out of the ordinary had just
happened. Blaise and Theo, who already knew what kind of broom Harry had ordered, played
along and made no mention of the package while they discussed their upcoming Potions
class.

Of course, the fun police caught up with him eventually, in the form of Hermione Granger
while they waited outside the Potions classroom for the door to open.

“First-years are not allowed a broom,” Hermione said with her hands on her hips as she
stepped in front of him.

“What riveting information. Much thanks for sharing it,” Harry said with a pleasant smile.

Hermione frowned and pinched her lips. “They won’t let you keep your broom, you know.”

“What broom?” Harry wondered with a puzzled tilt of his head. “I don’t have a broom.”
“The broom you got this morning! Everyone saw it!” Hermione huffed in annoyance.

“Everyone except you saw what happened, apparently,” Blaise said in a bored drawl.

Theo immediately added, “Harry received a broom, but did not keep it. Currently, it’s Marcus
Flint’s broom.”

“That’s cheating,” Hermione insisted with an offended intake of breath.

“Actually, it was Professor Snape’s idea,” Harry explained patiently. He wasn’t proud of it,
but he did enjoy riling Hermione up a bit. She was just so easy to piss off. “And he gave clear
instructions that if anyone had a problem with this they should take it up with him.”

Of course at that exact moment the door to the classroom opened and Snape appeared in all
his sneering glory.

Hermione whipped around. “Professor, Harry Potter’s got a broom but that’s against the rules
for first-years.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for being a tattletale, Ms Granger.” Snape ignored Hermione’s
devastated expression and pointed to the doorway. “Inside, all of you.”

Harry had to duck his head so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Snape’s attitude towards
Houses not his own was a lot more fun when you were a Slytherin. Besides, maybe this
would end up being a good lesson for Hermione not to stick her nose in other people’s
business. She’d always thought herself Head Girl in charge of controlling other students even
as a first-year.

Harry slipped into a seat beside Neville while Blaise and Theo sat down at the desk behind
them.

“Don’t mind me saying, Nev, but you look a little nervous,” Harry whispered.

Neville was pale and his hands trembled slightly. “They say Snape can get very nasty,”
Neville confessed and swallowed deeply.

“Nah,” Harry said with an airy wave of his hand. “He’ll leave you alone as long as you work
hard and are prepared for his classes. Besides, between the two of us we’ll manage a decent
potion.”

“I did read the book over the summer,” Neville said tentatively, trying to draw strength from
the fact that he had prepared for the class.

“See? You’ll be fine.” Harry gave Neville a friendly nudge with his elbow.

Snape took the register and unlike in Harry’s first life, Snape did not pause at Harry’s name
or comment on it. Probably because he’d already met Harry and showed him the appropriate
amount of disdain to satisfy whatever level of personal dislike he was trying to reach.
“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” Snape said as he
started what Harry was sure was a well-practised speech. A warm wave of nostalgia washed
over Harry as he listened to Snape’s smooth voice tell them about simmering cauldrons and
bewitching the mind.

“Potter!” Snape said and Harry had to keep himself from grinning at the memories of his first
Potions lesson and how he’d been completely clueless.

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry frowned and made a production of seemingly trying to remember the right answer.
“That would give you the Draught of Living Death, I believe, Sir.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry for a moment as though he suspected foul play of sorts.
“Correct. Two points to Slytherin.” Whipping around, Snape snapped, “Weasley, where
would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“A what?” Ron asked, looking over at Hermione, who he was sharing a desk with on account
that everyone else had paired up and they were the last two left to find a potions partner.
Well, Bulstrode was sitting by herself but Harry was sure Ron would sooner burn every
Chudley Cannons poster he owned than work willingly with a Slytherin.

“Thought you wouldn’t open your book before coming, Mr Weasley?” Snape drawled with a
sneer. “Two points from Gryffindor.”

Oh, Harry could see where this was going... and yep, Snape wanted to make some easy
adjustments to the House points.

“Longbottom, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Neville turned as pale as Harry had ever seen him and gulped audibly. “Same plant,” he
whispered, lips trembling ever so much.

“Hm.” Snape peered down at Neville as though he was a stubborn spot staining his favourite
cauldron. Harry quickly bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Well, why aren’t you all copying
that down?”

Students scrambled for parchment and quills while Harry gave Neville a huge grin and a
thumbs up. A few desks away Hermione was complaining loudly. “If he gave Potter points
than he should have given Neville points as well, that’s only fair.”

“Two point from Gryffindor for questioning a professor,” Snape said with a sudden satisfied
curve of his lips. Harry was sure Snape had some private quota of points lost for Gryffindor
he was trying to meet every day. Hermione gasped and stared down at her desk, eyes
shimmering.

Harry would not feel sorry for her. He would not. She hadn’t fucking looked at him as she
helped his execution along. She hadn’t known Harry would get a second chance, after all.
She had known that through her actions Harry’s life would come to a premature and
permanent end.

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry focused on Snape’s instructions for the boil cure they’d be
brewing.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Harry said to Neville, who was looking a little less pale than
earlier. Getting Snape’s question right had boosted his confidence at least some amount, it
seemed.

Neville chopped horned slugs while Harry weighed dried nettles and before long they had the
beginnings of a potion brewing in their cauldron. Harry kept a close eye on Neville,
remembering he’d made a mistake that melted his cauldron during Harry’s previous life, but
for whatever reason Neville paid better attention this time around and after half an hour or so
their potion was complete. Harry sat back on his stool and looked around the class. Behind
him, Blaise and Theo had also completed an acceptable potion.

Ron and Hermione were bickering to the point of it evolving into a full blown fight. No
matter what Ron did, Hermione had something bad to say about it.

“Fine, then you do it by yourself.” And with that Ron threw something in their cauldron,
which started hissing and spitting at once.

“Idiot boy,” Snape snarled as he vanished the contents of their cauldron with a wave of his
wand. “Look at what you did. Five points from Gryffindor and no marks for you today.”

Ron’s face turned scarlet while Hermione burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.

Harry wasn’t sure what it was that set him off. Snape’s voice or the angle of his neck or the
flickering lighting of their dungeon classroom, but one moment Harry saw Snape’s pale skin
and the next he saw a gaping wound gushing red blood down Snape’s throat. Staring at a
wound that wasn’t there, Harry knew it wasn’t there, it had not happened in this life, he knew
that, Harry couldn’t breathe.

Sucking in air as though he was suffocating, Harry bowed his head and desperately tried to
calm down. He knew this was his mind playing tricks on him, but that knowledge didn’t stop
his body from panicking at the sight of a dying man who wasn’t dying then and there.

But Harry had seen Snape die, had seen his throat ripped out by a huge snake, had seen the
wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack painted red with Snape’s blood and he’d seen the life
leave Snape’s eyes as he’d looked down at the man.

“Harry? You all right? Professor, I don’t think Harry’s feeling well.”

So much blood, so many lives lost that day, and Ron and Hermione right there behind him in
the tunnel, having his back, always having his back until they didn’t. Until they stood by and
let the world murder him.
“Potter.” A cool gust of wind hit Harry square in the face and snapped him out of whatever
spell had come over him enough to look up at Snape in surprise. Snape had his wand out and
was blowing wind in his face.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, inhaling a few deep breaths, his throat no longer feeling like it was
closing on him. “Not used to these fumes, I think.”

“This is what happens when you deliberately sabotage your own potion, Mr Weasley. You
inevitably harm others. Another five points from Gryffindor.” Snape took one last look at
Harry and let him be.

Harry glanced at Neville and offered him as genuine a smile as he was capable of at that
moment. “Thanks. I’m feeling better already.”

“All right, just take a moment.” Neville reached for a vial. “I’ll bottle our potion, don’t
worry.”

Harry just kept breathing for a minute or two, confused and ashamed and suddenly so fucking
tired. Why the hell did that just happen? Why now? Why at all?

Class ended soon after that, for which Harry was immensely grateful.

“I’m going to take a walk, get some air,” Harry told Blaise and Theo once they left the
classroom.

“You’ll miss lunch,” Theo said with a worried little frown.

“I know where the kitchens are, I’ll be fine.”

Blaise nodded. “We’ll be in the library after lunch. Come find us there.”

“Yeah, will do.” Harry turned right while his friends turned left to go eat in the Great Hall.
But Harry wasn’t hungry and he needed to clear his head. Figure out what had happened.
Maybe find a way to make sure it didn’t happen again.

He was happy to have been given a second chance. He was genuinely having a good time
coming up with ways to do things better this time around. So why was he suddenly freaking
out, and over Snape of all people. Harry didn’t like the man on the best of days and while he
certainly didn’t wish the man dead, he wasn’t the only person Harry had ever seen die. Hell,
he’d seen Quirrell turn to ash when he’d just been eleven.

He was glad to do his life over again. He was. He knew he was.

He was so fucking alone.

Harry stopped walking and briefly closed his eyes. That was a thought he’d desperately tried
not to have ever since he’d come back. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself. Especially
to himself.
Since he found out he was a wizard, since he went to Hogwarts in his first life, Harry had
people he could count on. People who cared for him, protected him, supported him. Even
loved him. People who were there for him. No matter what happened, Harry knew there were
people out there who would take him in, who would offer him a place to stay, listen to his
troubles, stand by his side.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hagrid, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Fred and
George, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, and so many others.

And then the war happened and a lot of them died and the rest stood aside to see him dead.
Harry remembered wishing desperately for someone, anyone to come for him, to try and help
him, as those two Aurors dragged him to the veil.

But no one had come. No one had saved him. Harry was alone, like he’d been before he
learned he was a wizard. Truly alone, with no one to turn to, no one to be there for him.

Except his enemy.

Harry snorted as he climbed a staircase. Was it any wonder that he’d insisted on bringing
Voldemort back with him? That he’d clung to all the little Toms? That he’d sought out
Voldemort the first chance he had and basically thrown his lot in with him without much
thought?

Harry was alone, but so was Voldemort. If they stuck together, they’d be less alone and could
watch each other’s backs. Harry smiled at the thought of his past self learning that at some
point in the future he’d prefer Voldemort’s company to pretty much anyone else’s at this
point.

Yes, he was making new friends and he did enjoy spending time with them, but none of them
knew him. Knew what he’d been through. And if it was up to Harry, they would never know.

Voldemort knew, though. Voldemort knew Harry better than anyone, and vice versa.

Yep, Harry had to admit, at least to himself, that at that moment, Voldemort was his best
friend. Barty came second to that because while Barty knew a few things, he hardly knew
everything that had happened.

Without meaning to go there, Harry found himself in the seventh floor corridor. He paced in
front of a blank wall and thought of a room he never thought he’d see again. A door appeared
and Harry stepped through and tried not to see towering flames bearing down on him in the
shape of dragons and basilisks. He wandered the stacks, not touching anything but just taking
everything in.

He definitely planned to return here and go through everything, preferably with Kreacher’s
help. Sort out the things he’d want to keep such as books and interesting artefacts, and gather
things he could sell like gold, wands or antiques. He planned to strip this whole room bare by
the end of his Hogwarts career and hopefully it would add a nice bit of gold to his vault. For
years all this junk had just been sitting here gathering dust until it burned to ashes. Who
knows what rare books or other items had been lost?
Harry was going to make sure it wouldn’t all be lost this time. But not at that time. Right then
he was there for one item and one item only.

He found it near a blistered cupboard and a marble bust. Ravenclaw’s diadem was as
beautiful as he remembered it. Even more beautiful without all the vile magic tainting it. He
considered keeping it, claiming to have found it or something, but that would lead to
questions he didn’t want to answer. Besides, he wasn’t the one to have initially recovered this
priceless historical artefact.

Someone else had. And he should have it.

Harry sank to the floor and placed Ravenclaw’s diadem carefully next to him. Hedwig
wouldn’t mind taking this to its rightful owner. He pulled quill, ink and a sheet of parchment
from his book bag and wrote a carefully thought out letter.

‘My dearest Tom,

I saw this exquisite piece and thought of you. There is no one else I want to see wear this as
much as I want to see you in a tiara. It is said to provide wisdom so by wearing it you might
finally find some of that intelligence you so obviously lack.

Most sincerely yours,

Your forever soulmate.’

 Chapter 11
Chapter Summary

Harry takes Voldemort's advice and is tricked by Snape.

Harry spent another hour or so strolling through the room of requirement, casually
cataloguing the kind of things he saw. It was a mishmash of items, everything from classroom
furniture, beds, decorations, trunks and school bags, broomsticks and gobstones, cauldrons
and scales, to lots of clothing and lots of books. His appetite had returned and he munched on
the Welsh cakes Kreacher had given him the day before. He found some cardboard and paper
amongst the stuff around him and used it to wrap up Ravenclaw’s diadem.

His next stop was the owlery where Hedwig eagerly accepted the package. Even Harry
whispering to her to take it to Voldemort didn’t bother her and she gave him an affectionate
nudge of her head on his chin before taking off into the sky. It was still early afternoon so
Harry figured Voldemort would receive his present in the early evening. Little Hangleton was
in Yorkshire, Northern England, so it wouldn’t take Hedwig more than a few hours to get
there from Scotland.

Harry couldn’t wait to talk to Voldemort that evening and see his response.

Feeling lighter and with his mood much improved, Harry joined his friends in the library. He
was pleasantly surprised to see his whole study group there. Not just his Slytherins but
Neville and the Hufflepuffs were all sitting together at what Harry thought of as their table.

“You look better,” Neville said, pulling his bag off a chair he’d been saving for Harry. “Do
you feel better?”

“Yes, Neville told us what happened,” Susan said, looking him over top to bottom. “I found
the potions classroom very suffocating as well during our class yesterday.”

Harry held up a hand to ward off further concerns. “I’m feeling good, I promise. A walk and
some fresh air did the trick. Now, what are you all working on?”

That worked to distract his friends and Harry sat down and got his own books out to start
work on the essay Snape had assigned them.

“We’ll have the entire weekend off,” Daphne noted after they’d all finished all of their
homework. “We should explore the castle tomorrow.”

“Harry can show us where the kitchens are,” Theo said with a pointed look at Harry.
Laughing, Harry gathered his things and stuffed them in his bag. “Fine, tomorrow after
breakfast, for those who are interested. I’ll show you the kitchens and we’ll go exploring.”
There was a chorus of agreements around him as they made their way to the Great Hall.

After dinner, Harry experienced a first at Hogwarts. Quite the feat considering he’d spent
more than six years there already. Every Friday right after dinner Slytherin had a House
meeting, something that Harry had never seen happen in Gryffindor. Not even once.

All Slytherin students, plus Snape, gathered in the common room. Younger years in the front,
older years in the back. The six Prefects stood facing them and addressed whatever issues had
come up that week. If someone had earned more points than average for whatever reason,
they were publicly congratulated. But if they’d lost more points than a handful, they were
called out and made to promise to not repeat that behaviour. They took the time to address
any grievances between Slytherins that they hadn’t been able to work out in private. And
finally, Snape introduced Harry as the new reserve Seeker. This was met with many curious
stares and murmurs, and one mighty scowl courtesy of Draco. After that Snape held a little
speech about the end of a successful first week and how he wished for them all to carry on in
a similar fashion.

Harry was surprised and shocked that Slytherin house showed more care for its students than
Gryffindor had ever done. And Snape taking the time to meet with them at least once a week
in the common room was a novelty to Harry. He could count the times he’d seen McGonagall
in the common room during six years as a student on one hand.

“Mr Potter,” Snape said as he cut Harry off when he wanted to follow Blaise and Theo to the
dormitory. “You are expected in the hospital wing tomorrow at three for your health check-
up.”

“My what?” Harry asked, utterly confused.

“You are a first-year who will be playing Quidditch. A health check-up is required before
you’re allowed to join the team,” Snape said while crossing his arms.

“But I never – “ Harry cut himself off just in time. He’d been so shocked by this development
he’d almost blurted out that he’d never had a health check-up while playing as a first-year for
Gryffindor. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he finally said, but
Snape looked at him as if he knew that wasn’t at all what Harry had really meant to say. For a
moment Harry worried Snape might be reading his mind. No, that was impossible, Harry
reminded himself. Voldemort had covered his mind in mental shields and he was completely
sure Snape couldn’t penetrate those.

“Considering you’ve only attended this school for a week, Potter, we can safely assume there
are plenty of things you haven’t heard of.” He sneered down at Harry. “Tomorrow at three,
hospital wing. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there, Sir,” Harry said and waited for Snape to walk away before he joined his
friends.
“They can’t have you besmirch Slytherin’s reputation by falling off your broom from a
preventable disease,” Blaise pointed out when he spotted Harry’s puzzled expression.

“Too much paperwork,” Theo agreed with a chuckle.

Harry snorted and followed his friends to their dorm to play some exploding snap before
bedtime. Harry was going to turn in early because he had a hot date with a Dark Lord. Or
something. If Blaise and Theo noticed Harry was acting a little antsier than normal, they
didn’t comment on it. About an hour before curfew Harry took a shower and told his friends
goodnight.

He’d barely closed his curtains and cast the usual privacy spells when he flipped open the
mirror and whispered Voldemort’s name in parseltongue.

Voldemort answered after a minute or so. “Potter. How were classes? Didn’t you have dear
Severus today?”

“Soulmate!” Harry stared at Voldemort expectantly, but Voldemort only seemed politely
interested in the situation and didn’t give Harry any kind of indication that he’d received his
present. Harry swallowed his disappointment. “Yeah, we had potions today. It was a disaster.”

“Who blew up their cauldron? Someone always does.”

“No one, surprisingly. It’s just...” Harry trailed off. Should he tell Voldemort about whatever
happened to him? It was admitting a weakness, but then again Voldemort was no longer his
enemy so did it matter? Harry decided it might do him good to get it off his chest. “I had
some sort of episode during class. One moment Snape was yelling at Ron and Hermione, and
the next moment I’m seeing him with his throat torn out, blood everywhere, and I couldn’t
breathe.”

“Ah.” Voldemort shifted a little in his seat as if to make himself more comfortable. “That
sounds like a panic attack brought on by PTSD.”

“What?” Harry asked in astonishment that Voldemort would even know such things. Then
again, the man was a genius.

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Voldemort explained. “It is no wonder you have it, to be
honest.”

“Well, I don’t want it,” Harry said, frowning at Voldemort who merely smiled in return.
“How do I get rid of it?”

“Many, many hours of Muggle therapy seems to work for some.” Voldemort reached to the
side and picked up a cup of tea. The man sure did like drinking tea when talking with him,
Harry noted with some amusement. “PTSD is worsened by stress.”

“What does that even mean?” Harry wanted to know. Muggle therapy wasn’t an option, he
knew that much. He couldn’t tell some unsuspecting Muggle therapist all about his magical
traumas.
“Honestly, Harry, it means you should take it easy for a while,” Voldemort told him with a
little sigh. “Just this week you’ve been planning and plotting and trying to get your whole
new life arranged. You have years for most of that. Take some time off and just enjoy
attending Hogwarts again.”

“Huh.” Harry swallowed and considered that. It actually sounded like really good advice.
“Okay, yeah, I might try to relax a bit more from now on. Most of my plots and plans are
running smoothly now after all.” He offered Voldemort a cheeky grin.

Voldemort merely sipped his tea while giving Harry a considering look. “Do you not believe,
Harry, that eleven is a little young to be sending me a courting gift?”

Harry choked on his own spit and coughed violently.

“I mean, you did call me yours and professed yourself mine, while gifting me a priceless
artefact. There are only so many conclusions one can arrive at when receiving such a gift.”
Voldemort sounded so very, very reasonable.

“No!” Harry swallowed, cheeks flushing while his mind was drawing a blank. “That’s not...I
didn’t mean...for fuck’s sake, Tom, it was just a joke.”

Voldemort’s serene expression finally cracked and he snorted with laughter. Harry scowled at
him, but Voldemort only laughed louder. “You have Barty to blame for this response, my
dear,” Voldemort said while he finally caught his breath. “He suggested it looked
suspiciously like a courting gift.”

“Barty sucks and I hate him,” Harry said, not meaning a single word of it. Still, that was a
nasty, mean thing to do. He was going to tell Barty so. In detail.

“But all joking aside, thank you for gifting me the diadem,” Voldemort said, sounding
surprisingly honest. “You could have easily kept it for yourself. Claimed it as a found
artefact.”

Harry shrugged. “Nah, too many questions. Besides, you were the one to recover it in the first
place. So it’s yours.”

Voldemort inclined his head. “Once I have my body back I might claim it publicly. It would
be a good way back into magical society.”

“So you’ve decided on an identity then?” Harry asked, perking up. He was desperate to know
who Voldemort was planning to be in the future.

“Patience, my dear. You’ll see eventually.” Voldemort looked far too smug for Harry’s liking.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ugh, you’re just evil as Barty. I’m going to sleep.”

“I’ll tell Barty you said that. Good night, soulmate.” Voldemort gave him one last little smirk
and clicked the mirror shut.
Harry sighed and dropped down against the mattress. Courting gifts for Voldemort. How
ridiculous was that?

The next morning, Harry woke up well rested and decided to take Voldemort’s advice. There
were no pressing matters to attend to and he could afford to spend one weekend just being a
carefree student. After a delicious breakfast, where Harry made sure to serve himself his
favourite dishes, their group gathered in the entrance hall. Everyone was there. Five
Slytherins, four Hufflepuffs and one brave Gryffindor.

They decided to explore the castle first, starting at the top floor and working their way down.
Harry briefly entertained the idea of accidentally on purpose exploring the forbidden third
floor corridor just to satisfy Dumbledore’s plans for him, but he quickly decided against it.
He didn’t want to drag his new friends into danger. They were all eleven and had no business
getting involved with a Cerberus or Devil’s Snare.

Lunch was had in the kitchens, which Hannah confessed the Hufflepuffs already knew the
location of. Apparently first-year badgers were told on their first day at Hogwarts where to
find it since the entrance was practically next to the door to their common room. The elves
welcomed them warmly, got out a big table for them and treated them to finger sandwiches,
warm sausage rolls straight from the oven, strawberry tarts and chocolate milk.

Since they were all feeling a little stuffed after lunch they decided to take a walk around the
lake to get some fresh air and enjoy the early fall colours of the forbidden forest while the sun
was still shining plentifully. They skipped rocks on the calm surface of the lake, and even
started a friendly competition which Ernie won. Apparently his family had a tradition of
skipping rocks while on holidays and Ernie had years of practice on all of them.

Harry would have forgotten all about his appointment at the hospital wing if Theo hadn’t
reminded him. Just acting as a Hogwarts student, talking about unimportant things and
listening to his friends joke and laugh did do him good. Voldemort definitely was on to
something when it came to reducing stress and just enjoying himself for a change. Harry
vowed to do it more often, maybe even every weekend. Keep the plotting and planning to
weekdays, make sure all his homework was done during their study group and spend
Saturday and Sundays having fun around the castle.

“Harry, don’t you have an appointment at three? It’s a quarter to.” Theo said when they’d just
about circled the lake.

“Yes, you might want to avoid pissing off Snape,” Blaise added with a severe look. Neville
paled just hearing that despised name.

“Crap. Yes, gotta run. Sorry.” Harry waved at his friends, most of who looked utterly
bewildered.

“We’ll explain. Just go.” Theo pointed at his own watch just to drive the point home.

Harry ran all the way to the hospital wing and made it there with barely a minute to spare.
Snape and Pomfrey were waiting for him and thankfully they were the only ones there.
“Sorry, we were out by the lake,” Harry managed to squeeze out while trying to catch his
breath.

“You’re not late, Mr Potter. Please follow me.” Pomfrey gave him an amused smile as she led
him to a bed half-hidden by white curtains. Snape looked decidedly less amused but kept to
the background.

Pomfrey got out her wand. “Please undress yourself. You can keep your underwear on. Can
you tell me about your vaccination record, Mr Potter?”

Harry shucked his clothes and sat down on the edge of the bed while Pomfrey waved her
wand over him in a few complicated patterns. Different coloured lights appeared and
disappeared around him but Harry paid them no mind. “I know my aunt has gotten me all
muggle vaccinations,” Harry said. He’d heard Petunia mention it enough to know he was up
to date, surprisingly. Not out of the goodness of Petunia’s heart though. Vaccinations were
covered by the NHS, and thus cost the Dursleys nothing. Besides, Petunia wouldn’t want her
unvaccinated nephew bringing scary diseases home to her precious Dudley.

“Your aunt?” Snape asked quietly, eyes narrowing. “Petunia Evans?”

“Dursley now,” Harry said with a nod and a shrug. He’d assumed Snape would know who he
lived with, since Snape knew his mother only had one sibling.

“What about your magical inoculations?” Pomfrey asked as she tucked her wand away.

“I’m assuming my parents got me vaccinated but since I started living with my aunt I haven’t
gotten any.” Harry reached for his clothes again as Pomfrey gestured at him to get dressed.

“You need a muggleborn inoculations package then. I’ll get it for you.” Pomfrey gave Snape
a significant look. “Severus, could I see you for a moment?”

Just as Harry was tying his shoes, Pomfrey briefly returned to give him a few vials of potions
to drink before disappearing again. Harry did so and sat on the edge of the bed to wait for
their return.

It took them perhaps ten minutes or so and when they did they both looked as though they
were about to attend a funeral.

“Mr Potter,” Pomfrey said with a small smile which she probably meant to be reassuring but
which only put Harry on edge. “I’ve found some worrying signs during your check-up.”

“Such as?” Harry eyed her warily, unable to believe Pomfrey, who had cared for him for all
his Gryffindor years and never made a comment, only now noticed something wrong with
him.

“Prolonged malnutrition,” Pomfrey said, again with an exaggerated smile.

Harry shrugged. “I took a potion for that. I’m fine.”

“Mr Potter, I’ve seen you eat three generous meals a day this week,” Snape said with less of a
sneer than usual. It disturbed Harry. “So the question is... why are you malnourished?”

Harry snorted, he couldn’t help it. He clamped his hand over his mouth to stop from laughing
out loud, but he really, really wanted to. For years and years during his previous life no one
noticed his malnourished body or the rags he was wearing or the fact he never went home for
Christmas or never received any mail from home

No one fucking noticed when Harry needed them to.

But now that he finally had his life where he wanted it, with the Dursleys bribed into
compliance, suddenly people cared? What the fuck?

“Mr Potter, we are here to help,” Pomfrey said in a soothing voice, probably mistaking his
reaction as one out of distress or shame, instead of out of the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Shaking his head, Harry pulled his hand away from his mouth and inhaled a deep breath.
“Could I please speak to Professor Snape? In private?”

Snape and Pomfrey exchanged a brief look and then Pomfrey walked away while Snape drew
the curtains and cast a privacy spell.

“In my old school, for years I walked around visibly underfed and dressed in rags and no one
said anything or did anything,” Harry said honestly. “So forgive me if I’m feeling a bit
sceptical right now.”

“You’re forgiven.” Snape crossed his arms and gave Harry a significant look, his eyes
narrowed. “How bad is it?”

“At the Dursleys? Could be worse. Mostly they didn’t feed me enough and until recently I
slept in a cupboard.” Harry raised a hand when he saw Snape widening his eyes. “But not
anymore. I’ve got the Dursleys under control.”

“Mr Potter, what you’re telling me, combined with Madam Pomfrey’s diagnostics, are reason
enough to remove you from their very dubious care.”

Harry smiled a sad little smile. How naive Snape was, and how funny Harry thought the idea
of Snape ever being naive about anything was. “It’s really not enough. Petunia told me that
Dumbledore basically forced me into their care. The Dursleys certainly never wanted me but
Dumbledore made sure to threaten them into compliance. For some reason the headmaster
really wants me there, even when both the Dursleys and myself would much rather part ways.
Do you understand?”

Snape was quiet for a long moment, gaze distant as he probably did some mental
calculations. “You said you have the Dursleys under control. How?”

“I’ve bribed them,” Harry said with a grin, feeling oddly proud he’d managed that. “I
inherited some money and I’m paying the Dursleys 350 pounds for every month I physically
stay with them. In return I get a bedroom, three meals a day and a reduced workload. The rest
of the time they leave me alone. It worked well this summer, so I’d really rather you didn’t
interfere, no matter how well intentioned. Best to let sleeping headmasters lie.”

Snape snorted and almost smiled. But only for a second and then he was back to his
customary scowl. “Should your arrangement with your family fall through, Mr Potter, I want
you to tell me immediately.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed easily. “I’ve got a few contingency plans, though, so you don’t have to
worry.”

“You truly do belong in our House, Mr Potter,” Snape said in a tone that could almost be
described as amused.

“She mentioned you,” Harry said with a tilt of his head. “Petunia, I mean. She called you
‘that awful boy’ and said you introduced my mum to magic.” Harry decided he wanted Snape
to know he already knew about his connection to Lily. Perhaps Snape would loosen up some
around him and stop comparing him to his father if he realized Harry already knew his
secrets. Well, at least those secrets pertaining to Lily Potter.

Snape got a pinched look on his face. “Indeed. We grew up in the same town.” Snape
straightened up and turned away from Harry. Over his shoulder, he said, “Your results also
showed you’ve already taken Sonder’s Nutritional Potion. I’m giving you another month’s
worth of them, delivered to your plate during breakfast. Take them, Mr Potter.” And with
that, Snape swept the curtain aside and was gone.

Harry took that as his cue to get going as well. He’d had quite enough of the hospital wing
already. He now realized that Snape had lured him there with an excuse because he suspected
Harry was being mistreated at home.

Why the hell did Snape even care? He’d certainly never done so before. No one had when it
came to Harry’s home life. Not even people like the Weasleys had offered to take him in for
the full summer, or even just to come put the fear of magic into the Dursleys while Harry had
to stay there for a few weeks. Harry wasn’t mad at Snape for luring him to the hospital wing
for a physical exam. The man was doing his job as a Head of House, which was more than
McGonagall had ever done for him.

He was just so bloody confused about why it happened now, but not before when he’d
desperately needed help.

Harry’s mind was in turmoil and he decided he wasn’t up to joining his friends yet. He
needed to sort out his own thoughts and feelings on this and he knew just the guy to talk to.
Once he got to the seventh floor corridor he imagined a quiet place to talk as he paced in
front of the blank wall. The room he found beyond the door that appeared looked surprisingly
like the drawing room in Grimmauld Place.

Sinking down in one of the leather chairs, Harry pulled the compact mirror out of his pocket
and called out Voldemort’s name in parseltongue.
“Did you miss me so much you’re calling me during the day now, my dear?” Voldemort said
as he answered the mirror.

Harry snorted with laughter. “You caught me. No, seriously, you’ll never guess what Snape
just did.”

“What did dear Severus do?” Voldemort asked, smile suddenly a little sharper.

“He actually did a good job as a Head of House and had me screened for abuse in the hospital
wing using Quidditch as an excuse that I needed a physical.” Harry released a deep sigh and
leaned his head on the back of his chair. “I just don’t get it. In my previous life no one
fucking cared I was underfed and dressed in rags. And now that I’ve got my life together
suddenly people are all up in my business.”

Voldemort shrugged. “The answer seems simple. You’ve surrounded yourself with different
people this time, not to mention you are a different person yourself.”

“Yeah, but...” Harry rubbed a hand across his face.

“You are confused there are people who take child abuse seriously?” Voldemort asked, tone
serious enough though his lips twitched.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just very strange to see people act so differently.” Harry
looked at Voldemort, held his red gaze, and said, “So can we maybe not kill Snape this
time?”
 Chapter 12
Chapter Summary

Harry gets a present from his soulmate, faces an adversary and makes a discovery
concerning Snape.

“Why on earth are you so eager to spare Severus’ life?” Voldemort asked with a curious tilt
of his head. “As I understand it since you’ve mentioned it numerous times, Severus never
treated you well in your first life.”

“Understatement,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Snape’s always been a bastard, sure, but he’s
as of yet also the only adult who’s ever tried to do something about my abusive home life.”
To be fair, Harry wasn’t even sure why he wanted to spare Snape, aside from his unexpected
abilities as a Head of House. It just didn’t sit well with him that Voldemort wanted him dead.

Voldemort didn’t say anything for quite a while, and Harry waited patiently, realizing this
wasn’t something to rush Voldemort into. Whatever decision Voldemort made, he needed to
make it in his own time.

“I would require additional vows,” Voldemort finally said. “Severus has betrayed me once. I
wouldn’t want to give him the opportunity to do it again.”

“But you know now how and why he betrayed you,” Harry pointed out, hopeful Voldemort
would give Snape a chance. “It will be easy to prevent it this time. Not to mention, as of yet
he hasn’t actually betrayed you. Not really. And as Dumbledore’s spy he’s dead useful.”

“I will consider it,” Voldemort finally said, and Harry could tell from his tone of voice that
was as much as he was going to get right now. “Besides, I don’t want to make any promises
without talking to Severus and seeing how far he’ll be willing to go when it comes to taking
additional vows.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said, but he was relieved nonetheless. Voldemort really had changed,
really was willing to compromise, and Harry was once again glad he’d insisted the man get
his whole soul back before they were given their second life. The difference was astonishing.
“Thanks for at least thinking it over.”

Voldemort’s smile was small and slightly surprised. “You’re welcome, my dear. We will
speak soon.” And with that he clicked the mirror shut. Harry shook his head and went in
search of his friends.

Sunday was spent much the same as Saturday, but thankfully without any ambushes from his
Head of House. Harry and his friends spent the day exploring, plying treats off the very eager
house-elves, and walking around the castle, admiring the many amazing views of the Scottish
landscape. It surprised Harry that it was so enjoyable to spend time with his current friends,
seeing as they were all eleven and he was, mentally at least, eighteen. But perhaps spending
time with children, as smart and mature as some of them were they were still kids, was
exactly what Harry needed to relax. Their worst fears took on the form of teachers or
homework. None bore psychological scars because they’d been through a war. Surrounding
himself with them felt as if he was able to let go of certain aspects of himself. Aspects
brought on by abuse and war and betrayal and death.

Had Harry ever been able to just be a kid? Harry wasn’t sure when he thought about it. One
would think that during his first year in his previous life he’d been a kid, but it wasn’t that
simple. During his first life Harry was unprepared and overwhelmed and stressed out about
having to return to the Dursleys each summer. He’d been unwittingly groomed to take on
more and more dangerous adversaries with no regard for his own life. A possessed teacher, a
basilisk, a hundred dementors, a dragon and the Dark Lord himself.

No, the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized he really never had been just a kid.
Not even before Hogwarts, when all he’d been was the Dursleys’ unwanted burden, starved,
worked like a house-elf and kept in a closet.

So Harry decided, after another fun day hanging with his young friends, that he was going to
allow himself this. He could plot and plan during the week, but from then on the weekends
were for having fun and relaxing. Goodness knows he’d earned a bit of time off every now
and then, what with the life he’d had.

Monday morning brought with it Quidditch practice. Marcus Flint quickly proved he was
every bit as fanatical as Oliver Wood had ever been, except he lacked Wood’s relatively
pleasant personality. Flint had no time for anyone’s excuses or bullshit. He expected his
players to do their fucking best all the fucking time.

Harry loved it, even if he had to get up at the crack of dawn and brave an icy Scottish wind a
few hundred feet up in the air. Truth was that flying, more than any other thing in his life,
allowed him to relax and forget and have fun. It hardly mattered to Harry that it was
accompanied by a shouting Flint ordering them to fly in certain formations while bludgers
soared around their ears.

When he returned to his dorms for a well-deserved shower, Harry’s muscles were loose and
his mind clear and he was more than ready for another week of classes.

During breakfast he received a package wrapped in brown paper with a note in Voldemort’s
handwriting.

‘Open this when you are alone.

You must thank Barty for this, because while I asked him to purchase these, he is ultimately
the one who braved a Muggle store to get them.

Hopefully you will find them helpful.’

Harry burned with curiosity but he heeded Voldemort’s words and stuffed the package
unopened in his book bag. Once they made their way to History, he excused himself to use
the bathroom and slipped inside an empty classroom. He ripped the paper off and found
himself holding a handful of Muggle books. A self-help guide for PTSD, a guide for dealing
with childhood abuse, a biography of a soldier living with PTSD, a book on meditation and a
book on yoga, which what the fuck? He got all the other titles, but yoga?

Harry read the back flap of the book with a puzzled frown until he came across a paragraph
that mentioned that yoga was apparently an excellent way to deal with stress and anxiety, and
then it all made a little more sense why Voldemort would send him this book.

“Kreacher!” Harry called, because he remembered he didn’t have just Voldemort to thank for
these.

Kreacher appeared almost at once. “Little Master is calling Kreacher?”

“Hi. Can you make me a nice batch of lardy cakes and leave them on my bed?”

Kreacher nodded. “Little Master will be having cakes this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Kreacher. I appreciate it.” Harry waved and Kreacher popped away. During his
talks with Barty he’d learned that lardy cakes were Barty’s favourite treat so he’d send them
off after classes with a note thanking him. Harry was terribly amused on the one hand that the
Dark Lord would send him Muggle self-help books, but on the other hand he realized all too
well he needed all the help he could get. He would be reading those books carefully and
genuinely try to use whatever lessons they might teach.

Harry slept through History and took plentiful notes during Transfiguration. After lunch they
had double Defence and Harry was more than pleasantly surprised to see the student desks
shoved against the walls when they entered the classroom. In his previous life all Quirrell had
done for months was stutter during his lessons. They hadn’t used magic until after
Halloween.

“We’ll be trying some magic today,” Quirrell said with a smile, while the students chattered
in excitement. Quirrell proceeded to explain the Disarming Charm and demonstrated it by
disarming Seamus and Dean one after the other. He then paired up the students, one Slytherin
and one Gryffindor per pair.

Harry was paired up with Hermione, because of course he was.

Quirrell had barely given the signal to begin when Harry whipped his wand out. “I’ll start,”
he said, and flicked his wand with practised ease. “Expelliarmus.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” Hermione said, and gasped when her wand was pulled from her
hand.

Harry caught it easily. “Looks like it worked just fine.”

“But it shouldn’t,” Hermione insisted, yanking her own wand back when Harry offered it to
her handle first. “Your flick was far too small.” She swished her own wand around in a wide
arch. “Like this. Expelliarmus!”

Harry felt a tug on his wand but it wasn’t strong enough so he held onto it. He gave
Hermione a pitiful look. “Or maybe you’re wrong. Imagine that.”

Hermione glared at him with a mulish expression. “I know I’m right. Professor Quirrell just
demonstrated it. Expelliarmus!”

Another tug, a little stronger now but still not strong enough. Harry shrugged. “Nope, you’re
still wrong.”

“Professor!” Hermione turned around and waved her hand high up in the air. “Harry Potter is
cheating!”

Harry sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. So this was how Hermione was going to deal
with not being the smartest in the class. By accusing anyone better than her of cheating.
Merlin’s saggy underpants, Harry was too old for this childish bullshit.

Quirrell joined them with an expectant look on his face. “Mr Potter, let’s see you disarm Ms
Granger.”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry caught Hermione’s wand for a second time without any problems.

“Well done.” Quirrell beamed at him. “Five points to Slytherin for being the first to
successfully cast the charm.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said with a polite little smile, ignoring Hermione’s outraged
intake of breath.

Quirrell gestured at Hermione. “Now you, Ms Granger.”

Hermione visibly composed herself and swished her wand around in a much too wide arch.
“Expelliarmus!”

Once again resisting the tug, Harry held onto his wand.

“See,” Hermione said while she pointed at him with an accusatory finger. “He’s cheating.”

“Two points from Gryffindor, Ms Granger,” Quirrell said with a stern frown. “Just because
you have not yet mastered the spell doesn’t mean you should accuse others of cheating.
Instead focus on practicing and making your flicks a little smaller.”

Hermione nodded as she glared at her shoes. Harry sighed, feeling all kinds of conflicting
things when seeing Hermione like this. A small part of him did enjoy seeing Hermione put in
her place, but mostly he pitied her in moments like these. She was making herself incredibly
unlikable to her fellow students, not to mention her teachers. As Quirrell had just
demonstrated, they had little patience for students falsely accusing each other.
Blaise, who was working beside them with Parvati, caught Harry’s eyes and raised an
eyebrow in question. Harry mouthed ‘later’ and Blaise went back to trying to disarm his
opponent. A few students down the line Neville was working with Tracy and both of them
were craning their necks to see what was going on with Harry.

Shaking his head, Harry went back to disarming Hermione. It took her until the end of the
class to finally disarm Harry in return. When she managed it she gave him a triumphant look
which Harry ignored. The last thing he wanted was to give into her need for attention. He had
no intention to become her official rival or some such nonsense.

Harry made a quick stop at the dorms to pick up the lardy cakes. He wrapped them up with a
quick note he’d written during the first ten minutes of History.

‘Barty,

A braver man than you there never was. Venturing on a quest into the Muggle world on the
command of your Lord to steal their wisdom is a feat deserving of the finest of baked goods.
Enjoy them, good Sir, for your heroism shall be praised by peasants everywhere for many
years to come.

Harry

P.s. Seriously, thanks! I look forward to reading them. Also, a courting gift? What the fuck is
wrong with you?’

Hedwig, as always, greeted him by sailing down to sit on his shoulder the moment he stepped
into the owlery. He gently stroked her head, just enjoying her presence for a moment. He’d
lost her once and he refused to take her for granted. He offered her the small package and
sent her on her way, and then left to join his friends in the library.

Once he got there an unwelcome surprise awaited him. Hermione was sitting beside Neville
at their table in Harry’s usual spot, surrounded by his friends. She had her books and
parchment spread out and looked for all the world as if she belonged there even though
everyone else was giving her questioning looks.

Yeah, Harry was going to have to put a stop to this immediately. He refused to spend time
with Hermione outside what was needed in classes. He just couldn’t deal with it. Perhaps it
wasn’t fair to an eleven year old child which Hermione still was, but Harry knew that he’d go
absolutely insane if he had to socialize with her in any way, shape or form.

He just couldn’t do it.

Harry walked up to her with a polite smile. “Granger, I don’t recall inviting you to spend time
with us.”

Hermione turned in her seat to look up at him, her chin tilted up more than was needed. “It’s
a study group. You can’t stop me from participating.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not, though. We’re just a group of friends spending time together,
and occasionally that means studying.”

“Honestly, Harry, we don’t mind,” Susan said, always inclusive as a true Hufflepuff. Hannah
nodded in agreement. “We are here to study today, after all.”

“But I do mind,” Harry said, crossing his arms. “Granger couldn’t deal with the fact that I
managed the Disarming Charm before her and falsely accused me of cheating in Defence.”
He looked Hermione straight in the eye. “I’ve yet to receive an apology for that, now that I
think about it.”

Hermione’s cheeks coloured red but she didn’t say a word.

“You’re not welcome here,” Theo said quietly, but with intensity. Hermione’s cheeks blazed
redder still.

Neville let out an enormous sigh. “I warned you, Hermione.” He turned in his seat to look up
at Harry. “She overheard me telling Dean I was going to the library to study with a few others
and invited herself along even though I told her we’re not an official study group.”

“Not your fault,” Harry assured him. He knew all too well how tenacious Hermione could be.

“Accusing someone of cheating just because they’ve accomplished something you haven’t
isn’t okay,” Susan said with a little frown. Hannah added, “Perhaps you should just leave.”
Ah yes, that famed Hufflepuff loyalty at work. Badgers really were ferocious when one of
their own was threatened.

Hermione looked torn between lecturing them and running away crying. Harry was already
tired of dealing with her and it had only been a week of classes at this point. It was going to
be a long seven years.

Hermione inhaled a deep breath and fell back on her standard behaviour when she was
feeling stressed. Spewing facts. “I’m telling Professor McGonagall you’re not inclusive in
your study group. According to the Hogwarts charter any and all groups must be inclusive
and cannot exclude anyone based on House or anything else.”

“We’re not an official study group,” Ernie pointed out with an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t get what you’re trying to do here,” Justin said while he glanced around the table
before focussing on Hermione. “You’ve unfairly accused Harry of cheating and now you
expect us to want to be your friend? And you honestly think this will work?”

“Hermione,” Neville said, sounding bone-tired. “Please just go.”

“Fine, but I am reporting you.” Hermione threw her books and parchment into her bag, gave
them all a final look of superiority, nose in the air, and marched towards the exit.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” Blaise said with a chuckle as Harry sat down in the seat
Hermione had just vacated.
“She’s a real piece of work,” Neville said with another tired sigh. “In Gryffindor people
literally flee in the opposite direction if they see her coming because she constantly tries to
boss people around.”

“That explains why she doesn’t have any friends then,” Hannah said as she shared a look
with Susan. “We had noticed she’s always alone.”

“If this is how she acts trying to make friends that’s not a surprise,” Justin said. He still
looked unsure as to what he’d just witnessed exactly.

They talked about Hermione and her strange infiltration attempt for a few more minutes but
eventually they started on their homework.

Harry didn’t bring Hermione’s behaviour up again until he was lying in bed and calling
Voldemort on the mirror.

“Thanks for the books,” Harry said the moment Voldemort answered. “I’m going to read
them all and I might even take an hour one evening and do some yoga in the Room of
Requirement.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” Voldemort said and narrowed his eyes as he studied Harry’s face
for a few moments. “I have a feeling something overshadows your joy somewhat. Did
anything happen?”

Harry briefly pursed his lips while squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he
finally whispered.

“Do what exactly?” Voldemort’s voice was equally quiet. “If being a student doesn’t agree
with you, there are alternatives.”

“Huh?” Harry felt like a bit of an idiot for never having thought of that. Ever since he’d
started his life over again all he’d considered doing was attend Hogwarts again.

“There is no actual reason for you to attend Hogwarts other than your own desire to live your
life again. You could leave at any time and hide yourself away here or elsewhere. Study
magic you don’t already know, take aging potions when going out in public.”

“You’ve thought about this,” Harry guessed, suddenly very tempted by what Voldemort had
described.

Voldemort gave him a sly smile. “I like to consider all options, not just the obvious ones.
Now what happened to bring this on?”

“Ugh. My former best friend Hermione decided to accuse me of cheating during Defence
because I performed the Disarming Charm before her, and later she joined our study group
when no one wanted her there and then she left to report us or something.”

Voldemort gave a rather undignified snort. “Ah, yes, such challenges you face.”
“I know, okay,” Harry said while he glared at Voldemort, which only made him appear even
more amused. “When I think back on it I know it’s all just childish bullshit, but every time
I’m confronted with her, young as she is, she makes my skin crawl and I want to hex her.”

“She betrayed you,” Voldemort pointed out. Harry had told him in detail what had happened
and who’d been involved. “And you trusted her. More than anyone else probably.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed.

Voldemort chuckled, and when Harry frowned at him he didn’t even try to appear apologetic.
“Forgive me for finding this whole situation deliciously ironic. Just the other day you were
pleading with me to give my betrayer a second chance, a man who would sell me out to
Dumbledore in a heartbeat, and here you are complaining because an eleven year old was
acting childishly against you.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled. “When you put it that way it all seems a little silly, I agree. But I
can’t help what I feel when she’s around.”

“Perhaps you should try to divorce this child from the young woman that betrayed you. The
child has done nothing to you and she will never grow into the young woman who betrayed
you simply because you won’t let her close again.” Voldemort leaned back in his chair and
stared at Harry with a bit of a challenge in his eyes.

“Maybe I should try that.” Harry offered Voldemort a grin that was far too cheeky. “Will you
do the same with Snape?”

“What is your obsession with that man’s life?” Voldemort demanded.

Something suddenly occurred to Harry and he shot up in bed. “Oh! I know.” Harry looked at
Voldemort with a huge grin. “Snape owed my dad a life-debt.”

“Ah, now that makes sense.” Voldemort looked at Harry with a satisfied smile. “And now
that life-debt has transferred to you. And it’s making you reluctant to see the man die before
that debt can be settled.”

“That does make sense, doesn’t it.” Harry was extremely proud of himself for having figured
that out. “And I don’t want to leave Hogwarts,” he added, just so Voldemort knew where they
stood. “I’m enjoying myself for the most part. But it is nice to know there are alternatives, so
thank you for pointing them out.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” Voldemort said with a look that could almost be described as
fond. “Now get some sleep. It wouldn’t do for you to be too tired tomorrow to deal with all
those childish antics.”

“Night, Tom.” Harry burrowed deeper under his covers.

“Good night, Harry.” Voldemort, grinning, closed his mirror very slowly, causing Harry to
snort before closing his eyes.
The next morning during double Herbology, Harry, Blaise and Theo worked with Ernie and
Justin to repot biting begonias. They sounded fearsome, and they did bite, but since they had
no teeth that was more of a nuisance than any real threat.

“You’ll never believe what Cedric Diggory told us,” Ernie whispered as he filled a pot with
soil. “He heard it from the Weasley twins.”

“Heard what?” Theo asked, holding a begonia that was gumming his fingers as he waited for
Ernie to finish.

Ernie glanced over both his shoulders to make sure they weren’t overheard. “The secret that
they’ve warned students away from in the third floor corridor is a giant three-headed dog.
The twins saw it with their own eyes when they snuck in there.”

Harry’s begonia shrieked in protest when he accidentally squeezed it far too tightly.
 Chapter 13
Chapter Summary

Harry learns a lesson about himself, chats with Barty, faces off with McGonagall and
goes flying. Oh, and he learns something vitally important about his soulmate.

“But how big can it really get?” Justin asked for the umpteenth time. As a muggleborn he
seemed to have the most difficulty accepting that giant three-headed dogs even existed. Harry
understood the feeling. He, too, found the concept of Fluffy hard to believe at first and he’d
seen the thing with his own eyes multiple times.

“They can grow to the size of a small dragon,” Tracey explained patiently.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really tell me anything,” Justin muttered and turned back to his
homework.

It was Wednesday and they were spending their afternoon off in the library working on a
Charms essay. And for over twenty-four hours Harry had to listen to his friends speculate
about the Cerberus on the third floor. He let them but mostly kept quiet himself. When he
first heard Ernie mention the Weasley twins sneaking into the third floor corridor, his saving
people instincts had kicked in and he’d spent the rest of Herbology thinking of ways to keep
students away from Fluffy.

And then, sometime after lunch as they listened to Flitwick lecture during double Charms,
Harry came to his senses.

Whatever the fuck Dumbledore was scheming was not Harry’s responsibility. And neither
was it up to him to save the Weasley twins, or other adventurous students from themselves.
Dumbledore wanted to keep an enormous, vicious beast inside a school? That was up to
Dumbledore and had nothing to do with Harry. And once Harry came to that conclusion a
huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

It wasn’t up to him to save the school. What a concept. Every time Harry repeated this
conclusion in his head he had to smile. Dumbledore’s grooming, which had been frightfully
successful in his previous life, had apparently lost its power over Harry. Finally.

“What do you think, Harry?” Neville asked him.

Harry blinked at him. “Hm?”

“About the Cerberus,” Neville explained.

“I think Dumbledore’s out of his mind keeping that thing in a school,” Harry said, meaning
every word.

“Hear, hear,” Blaise said with a gesture of his hand as though he was toasting Harry.

Harry grinned at him. “Other than that, it’s really not our business.” He shrugged and looked
at Susan. “Doesn’t your aunt work for law enforcement? I wonder if Dumbledore isn’t
breaking several laws with keeping that thing where students can get to it. A magically
locked door isn’t going to keep most of them out.”

“That’s a good point,” Susan said with a little frown.

“Amelia Bones is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement,” Daphne said and gave Susan a
significant look. “You should let her know what Dumbledore is doing. I for one will sleep
better knowing that monster is gone from the school.”

“I’ll write to her,” Susan said, and with that everyone returned to their homework.

Harry was feeling a little bit torn about involving Amelia Bones. He still planned to steal the
Philosopher’s Stone and that would be easier when he knew what challenges exactly awaited
him. Yes, Fluffy was fearsome but Harry knew some music put him right to sleep and he was
therefore an easy obstacle to overcome. Should Fluffy be forced from the castle there was no
knowing what Dumbledore would replace it with.

Then again, Dumbledore wanted Harry to survive the obstacle course so he could come face
to face with Voldemort. So whatever he would replace Fluffy with wouldn’t be too difficult
or dangerous.

And getting Dumbledore into trouble with Amelia Bones was just too good to pass up. Harry
decided that Dumbledore had gotten away with a lot of child endangerment during his last
life. This time he was going to get a lot of pleasure out of reporting every bit of it to the
appropriate Ministry departments.

Harry decided that one of his new missions in his new life was to make Dumbledore’s life as
difficult as possible. He couldn’t wait for Voldemort to get his body back, take on a new
identity and oppose Dumbledore while Harry happily and publicly allied himself with this
new wizard.

For the rest of the day the chatter concerning the Cerberus died down a little amongst his
friends now that everyone was waiting to see what Amelia Bones would have to say about it.
Once Harry was tucked in his bed he contemplated calling Voldemort on the mirror, but he
couldn’t really think of a reason to do so, yet it had been two days since he’d spoken to the
Dark Lord and absurdly, Harry realized he missed the man.

The mirror, which he held in his hand as he debated whether to call Voldemort or not, grew
warm and lit up.

“Harry,” Barty said, waving a lardy cake in front of the mirror as Harry answered. “Cheers,
mate. These are really good.” And then he stuffed the whole cake in his mouth, chewing
vigorously while his cheeks puffed out.

Harry chuckled. “Barty, haven’t seen you in a while. Thanks for the books. They’re helpful
so far.” Harry had read most of the PTSD guide in bed the evening before and found certain
tips quite useful, such as the idea of immersion therapy concerning traumatizing memories.
Instead of avoiding painful memories, the idea was to immerse yourself in them whenever
they popped in your mind and rationalize what happened in them, thus taking away their
traumatizing power. Harry was determined to do this the next time such memories popped up
instead of pretending nothing bad had ever happened to him.

“You’re welcome,” Barty said after an eternity of chewing and swallowing. “To be honest, I
quite liked the Muggle bookstore.”

“Ravenclaw,” Harry said, making it sound like an accusation.

“Yeah, yeah,” Barty said, waving Harry’s comment away. “They had a lot more interesting
and useful books than I thought Muggles would have. I might go back.” Barty gave him an
expectant look. “Do you need any more self-help books?”

“How to not want to save the world all the time,” Harry said in a deadpan tone.

Barty snickered. “What happened now? Our Lord told me you had a rough time with your
eleven-year-old muggleborn nemesis.”

“He told you that?” Harry shook his head while he imagined Voldemort gossiping about him
with Barty. Somehow that image made him want to simultaneously laugh and cringe. What
did those two talk about when it came to Harry?

“Yes, he was most amused by your struggles,” Barty said with a wide grin.

“Of course he was.” Harry sighed and privately bemoaned Dark Lords and their penchant to
make fun of Harry’s very difficult Hogwarts life. “Some students snuck into the third floor
corridor and discovered the Cerberus, and my first instinct was to stick my nose in it to save
everyone involved.”

Barty frowned and seemed to consider this for a moment. “I think they did have books for
that,” he finally said and he offered Harry a bright smile. “How to say no, and how to stop
trying to please everyone. I think I will go back to that bookstore and get some for you.”

“Sure,” Harry said, very amused Barty was desperately looking for excuses to revisit a
Muggle store. And who knew? Whatever books Barty got him might be helpful after all.
“Now for something else. What the hell was that with you suggesting I sent the Dark Lord a
courting gift?”

Barty cracked up, bending double at the waist as he laughed for several long moments.
“Listen, Harry, you cannot send a man expensive jewellery like that and not have some
people suspect you have ulterior motives.”

“Who? There was only you who suggested that, you pillock,” Harry said with a grumble.
Barty snorted with laughter again. “It is traditional to send jewellery as a first courting gift,
though, so don’t blame me for drawing that conclusion.”

“I was just returning his tiara! No ulterior motives.” Harry threw himself back against his
pillow with a huff.

“Sure, sure,” Barty said while catching his breath. “Our Lord was most pleased with his tiara
that was definitely not a courting gift.”

A strange warmth filled Harry’s chest hearing that. “So anyway, what have you been up to?”

“Lots of errands for our Lord,” Barty replied easily. “Lots of things to arrange for Samhain
and his new identity.”

Harry perked up. “So what is his new identity?”

“Nah, not telling you.” Barty waved an admonishing finger at Harry. “Our Lord was very
clear on that.”

“Ugh.” Harry dropped back against his bed again.

“Patience, Harry. You’ll see on Samhain.”

“Fine,” Harry said ungracefully. He was just so curious what Voldemort planned to do with
his second life once he got his body back. He chatted with Barty for another fifteen minutes
or so and then he called it a night. They had flying lessons the next day and Harry wanted to
be well-rested for that in case something happened like in his first life.

The next morning there was a noticeable air of excitement, even among the usually composed
Slytherin first-years. Draco couldn’t stop bragging, Daphne was reminiscing about when her
mother taught her how to fly a broom and Blaise and Theo were complaining about the poor
quality of the school brooms which Theo’s cousin Balthazar had warned him about.

But first they had to get through a day of Defence, History and Transfiguration. Once the
Gryffindors entered the classroom the bragging from Draco, Ron and Seamus reached such
epic proportions that Quirrell was forced to take points just to shut them up.

Harry himself was mildly excited, not so much for the flying which he did enough of during
Quidditch practice, but for any foolish accidents that might happen. He managed to keep it
together, though, unlike some others. Draco was practically vibrating with excitement at the
idea of showing off his flying skills, Theo was surprisingly chatty while trying to supress his
nerves and Blaise dealt with that by becoming almost entirely non-verbal. Daphne had to
give Tracy, who lived in a mostly Muggle town and had never flown much in her childhood,
several pep-talks as the day went on.

Finally, Transfiguration was over as the bell rang and everyone shot up out of their seats and
rushed out the door.

“Mr Potter, a moment of your time,” McGonagall said, just as Harry shouldered his bag and
made to follow Theo and Blaise.
Harry didn’t miss the smug look Hermione shot him as she walked out the door. “Professor,
we have flying lessons now.”

“This won’t take long.” McGonagall stopped in front of him and gave him a stern look. “It
was brought to my attention that you are running a study group that isn’t inclusive of all
students. All groups must –“

Harry held up a hand. “I’m sorry to cut you off, Professor, but let me make it very clear that
I’m not running a study group. Myself and some friends meet in the library a few days a
week to study together. That’s it.”

McGonagall briefly pursed her lips. “Perhaps it’s not an official group, but you are still
meeting with others. Surely you can add another member to your group of friends?”

Harry looked at his former Head of House in disbelief. “Did Granger tell you that she
accused me of cheating to Professor Quirrell when I performed a spell before she did?”

“She did not,” McGonagall said with a little frown. “I’m assuming Professor Quirrell took
appropriate action to reprimand such behaviour.”

“He did, yes. On top of that, Granger is a bully who loves nothing more than ordering others
around,” Harry pointed out bluntly.

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall said firmly. “There is no need to talk about a fellow student like
that. Ms Granger can be a tad blunt, perhaps, but she is an intelligent young girl who would
do well with some friends to steer her away from her more extreme behaviour.”

“Then I wish Ms Granger all the best with making some friends of her own,” Harry said with
the politest smile he could muster while he grew more and more frustrated.

“I was hoping you could take her under your wing, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said in a tone
that made it sound much more like an order than a suggestion.

“Why me?” Harry asked in astonishment. “Why not her dorm mates? Or some other
Gryffindors at least?”

“You already meet with students from other Houses,” McGonagall pointed out. “Would it be
so bad to add another friend to your group?”

“If that friend is Granger, then yes,” Harry said, frustration turning into anger. “I’ll be honest
with you, Professor. All my friends are people I like and enjoy spending time with. Granger
is someone I cannot stand and I refuse to spend time with people I don’t like. Simple as that.”

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. “I expected better of you, Mr Potter.”

“How?” Harry threw up his hands in sheer infuriation. “You don’t know me. Now if you’ll
excuse me, I’m going to be late for my next lesson.” And with that Harry marched out of the
classroom without looking back.
“Five points from Slytherin for leaving the room without being dismissed,” McGonagall
called after him.

Harry fumed as he stormed through the corridors on the way to the lawn where flying lessons
would be held. He couldn’t believe McGonagall and her stupid plan to unload her socially
impossible student on him so she could wash her hands of Hermione. Harry knew
McGonagall wasn’t stupid or blind. She had to see Hermione was digging her own grave
when it came to her interactions with students and teachers alike. And her solution was to
throw her into the lap of another first-year, a Slytherin even?

Any kind of respect Harry might have had for McGonagall just went flying out the window.
He felt incredibly disappointed in her. At the same time his stubborn side reared its head and
Harry was now determined, more than he already was, to keep Hermione as far away from
him as was physically possible in Hogwarts. McGonagall could go fuck herself, and so could
Hermione.

Both Slytherin and Gryffindor students were already standing beside a row of brooms
opposite each other.

“Finally here,” Hooch said as Harry dropped his book bag and stepped up to the only
available broom left. Blaise and Theo stood on either side of him and Harry inhaled a deep
breath to calm himself. “Let’s begin,” Hooch said, hands on her hips. “Stick out your right
hand over your broom and say ‘up’!”

Everyone shouted ‘up’, and brooms rose into hands left and right. Harry’s broom slapped in
his hand at once, and so did Theo’s. Blaise’s broom took a more relaxed approach and rose
with a little swing but landed in his hand all the same.

Hooch continued her instructions until everyone was standing over their brooms and she got
ready to blow her whistle so everyone could kick off.

Predictably, Neville kicked off too early and too hard and shot up into the air. Neville shouted
in alarm and seemed unable to control his broom.

“Steer the broom down!” Harry yelled up at Neville while he reached for his wand. “Just
push the handle towards the ground!”

Neville seemed to calm down enough to get some control over his broom and he pressed
down on the handle. The broom bucked and swirled but still flew downward towards the
grass. Neville slid off when he was about five feet away from the ground and he landed face-
first in the grass.

Just as Hooch reached him, Neville sat up and scrubbed his hand over his face to wipe off
some grass. “I’m fine, Madam Hooch.”

“You sure, boy?” Hooch asked, looking him over a few times.

“Yeah, still in one piece.” Neville looked at Harry, who offered him a huge grin and a thumbs
up. That was one crisis averted. In his first life Neville had been injured and Draco had made
off with his Remembrall. None of that happened this time.

Hooch got the chattering students back under control and before long they were all flying
around in simple circles. Even Neville, though he looked beyond grateful that Harry stuck to
his side during the whole lesson.

Dinner was a loud affair as they all unleashed their post-flying energy by talking about it.
Harry listened to his year mates as he enjoyed his roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. It wasn’t
until right after dinner as they walked out of the Great Hall that trouble found them in the
form of Neville and Ron bickering loudly.

“Harry,” Neville said, looking incredibly relieved to see him. “Ron here just volunteered me
for a duel with Draco Malfoy.”

“He challenged you,” Ron said with a stubborn scowl. “What kind of Gryffindor would you
be if you refused a challenge like that.”

“A smart one,” Harry said as he casually crossed his arms while tilting his head. “Let me
guess, Draco told you to meet him somewhere in the castle after curfew.”

Ron blinked in surprise. “Midnight in the trophy room.”

“Ah,” Theo said with a snicker.

“Yeah, he’s setting you up,” Blaise agreed while Harry looked proudly at his two friends.

“What?” Ron demanded, his ears turning red.

“Draco has no intention of meeting you there. Instead, he’ll tip off Filch so you’ll get into
trouble.” Harry spoke slowly so hopefully Ron would understand.

“But Neville accepted his challenge,” Ron said, seemingly unable to contemplate the wiliness
of Slytherins. “Malfoy can’t not show up.”

“I didn’t accept anything,” Neville said, glaring at Ron. “And I’m not going anywhere
tonight.”

“But you have to,” Ron insisted.

“Excuse me,” a most unwelcome voice sounded behind them.

“Miss tattletale,” Harry said with his most pleasant smile. “I assure you this has nothing to do
with you. So naturally you will now go and report it to McGonagall anyway, am I right?”

Hermione frowned at him. “I was perfectly within my rights to – “

“Yeah, I have no desire to spend any time near you, Miss tattletale. Neville, just stay in bed
tonight and you’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.” And with that Harry turned around and
walked toward the dungeons, Blaise and Theo hurrying to catch up.
“What did Granger do?” Theo asked as they climbed down the stone stairs.

“Told McGonagall our official study group refused her. I clarified the situation and then
McGonagall still insisted I make friends with her. I firmly refused.”

“I wonder if Granger even realizes her behaviour is making her own Head of House treat her
like a charity case,” Blaise said with a proper amount of pureblood scorn at the idea of
accepting charity.

“I suspect Granger is taking very little time to consider the consequences of her behaviour,”
Harry said with a sigh. “Enough about her. Let’s play some exploding snap.” Harry had found
that playing a game with his friends was an easy way to unwind in the evening. Draco briefly
stopped by to brag about his nefarious plan to get some Gryffindors expelled but they ignored
him until he went away again.

“Soulmate!” Harry said once he was lying in bed and called Voldemort. “You never guess
what McGonagall did today.”

Voldemort chuckled and shook his head. “You have no idea how much I long to hear all the
gossip from Hogwarts every time we talk. I’m concerned about its addictive properties at this
point.”

“Yeah, you’re stuck in that dusty old house all day and you have to live vicariously through
me,” Harry pointed out with a huge grin. It was weird how the person he enjoyed talking to
the most these days was his former enemy, now pretty much best friend.

“Just six more weeks to Samhain,” Voldemort said with a wistful sigh. “So what happened
that’s got you all manic?”

“Hermione went to complain to McGonagall about her not being allowed in our study group.
McGonagall then, even though she knew we don’t have an official group, tried to dump
Hermione in my lap. And when I refused because it makes no fucking sense for her to ask a
Slytherin boy to befriend a Gryffindor girl at this age, honestly, then she was all disappointed
in me because she expected better of me even though she doesn’t know me.” Harry had to
inhale a deep breath once he rattled all that off at top speed.

“So, in short, McGonagall has a difficult student and tries to shove her off onto the Boy Who
Lived?” Voldemort said patiently.

“Yes, exactly,” Harry agreed happily. “You understand what’s going on and why I refused
adamantly.”

“As you should. It’s not up to you to put up with problematic students. Minnie should just do
her job,” Voldemort said.

“Minnie?” Harry repeated with an amused smile.

“She was a year below me at Hogwarts,” Voldemort said. “She even asked me out once. She
is a brave Gryffindor through and through, because I was not at all approachable, no matter
how helpful I presented myself as.”

Harry sat up in bed, mouth hanging open. “She did what?”

Voldemort chuckled, red eyes narrowing with mirth. “She asked me out to Hogsmeade in my
sixth year.”

“And did you?” Harry demanded, unable to comprehend the idea of McGonagall asking
Voldemort to Hogsmeade.

“Of course I didn’t accept.” Voldemort shook his head as if the idea was preposterous. Which
it was. “I’ve never dated women. I much prefer men for such liaisons.”

Harry’s heart skipped several beats and he had no idea why.

 Chapter 14
Chapter Summary

In which Harry educates some Slytherins, receives some Slytherin education in return
and makes his soulmate very happy completely by accident.

Harry had no idea how he did it, but Draco knew what had happened with a few select
Gryffindors the moment Harry, Theo and Blaise entered the common room the next morning.
Harry suspected he may have paid Filch to personally deliver any news before the crack of
dawn.

“Weasley and Granger lost fifty points last night. Each!” Draco practically crowed, cheeks
flushed with excitement as he all but pounced on them to share his victory. “And they each
got a week of detention with Filch. Apparently he caught them near the trophy room and
handed them over to Professor Snape.”

Harry was glad to hear Neville had kept himself out of that mess, and he considered what
might have happened. Ron would have insisted on going anyway, even after he was told it
was a set-up, and Miss tattletale would have tried to stop him. In his first life, the Fat Lady
had been gone from her portrait so Hermione and Neville had tagged along with him and
Ron. Harry figured something similar had happened this time around. And with no Harry or
Neville there to act as a buffer, Ron and Hermione would probably have argued so loudly,
Filch would have heard them coming from the other side of the castle.

Though, it did make Harry wonder if this misadventure brought Ron and Hermione together
like the troll at Halloween had done for them in his previous life.

One look at the Gryffindor table during breakfast made it clear this was not the case. Ron and
Hermione were sitting as far away from each other as possible while glaring daggers at one
another.

“Their whole House is shunning them,” Draco said with a satisfied smile. “Too bad they
didn’t get expelled.”

Right before breakfast ended Harry couldn’t resist making eye-contact with McGonagall,
who was looking particularly sour that morning, probably because Gryffindor was now dead
last in the House ranking after losing 100 points overnight. Harry raised an eyebrow at her
while making it clear with his bright smile he was very happy not to be associated with her
problem student. McGonagall’s eyes narrowed as her expression soured further.

Harry figured he’d get the scoop from Neville during their double Potions class, but when he
entered the classroom and made to join Neville, Hermione all but bowled him over and threw
herself into the empty seat beside Neville.

Blinking, Harry looked around to find somewhere else to sit. Though Neville looked deeply
unhappy with his new partner, Harry wasn’t about to make a scene in Snape’s class. He
wasn’t that stupid.

“You can sit with me,” Ron said with a hopeful look.

“Yeah, no. I’ve seen your non-talent at potions and I’d rather pass this class with a decent
mark.” Harry turned his back on a scowling Ron and sat down beside Bulstrode, the only
other available seat in the room.

“Weasley, you lack the common sense to work alone,” Snape said as he marched inside. “Join
Granger and Longbottom.”

Neville looked as though he would rather kiss Snape on the lips right that second than have to
spend two hours stuck between Ron and Hermione.

Harry took pity on him, even though Neville’s horrified face was hilarious. “Professor,
perhaps Neville can join our table so he’ll actually have a chance to make a successful
potion.”

Neville didn’t even wait to hear Snape’s response. He grabbed his bag and almost toppled his
chair over as he ran towards Harry.

“I can’t work with her,” Ron said as he slouched towards Hermione, who huffed and crossed
her arms.

“Five points from Gryffindor for holding up the class,” Snape said with a vicious smile, and
he waved his wand at the blackboard.

“Thanks, Harry,” Neville whispered as Ron and Hermione started bickering, giving Snape a
perfect opportunity to deduct more points which he did with obvious pleasure.

“You’re welcome,” Harry whispered back. “Though payment is you telling us all the dirty
details about those two and their historical loss of points.” Even Bulstrode looked interested
in that.

“Honestly, there’s not much to tell,” Neville said as they got a cauldron set up and Bulstrode
sorted through some ingredients. Harry started chopping ginger root.

Neville looked around to make sure Snape was nowhere near their table. “Ron insisted on
going, did all he could to drag me with him, and I had to eventually report him to his brother
Percy the prefect for bullying before he would leave me alone.”

“Good on you for not taking his crap,” Harry said with a proud smile. It was great to see
Neville come into his own a bit already this early in his life.

“Thanks.” Neville measured out distilled water. “Anyway, this morning suddenly everyone’s
upset because those two have lost a hundred points overnight. Everyone is avoiding them like
the plague, even more than they already were. And the dumbest thing is that they’re blaming
everybody but themselves. Ron keeps blaming me and Malfoy, and Hermione even tried to
say it was somehow your fault.”

“Huh?” Harry stared at Neville in disbelief as he stirred his ginger cubes into the potion.

“Yeah, no one is buying that,” Neville quickly assured him. “They know those two are
impossible to deal with on a good day, and that they have only themselves to blame for this
mess.”

“They really do.” Harry was amused to note he really felt nothing but contempt for Ron and
Hermione at this point. The dual emotions he’d experienced when he saw them during the
first week at Hogwarts had vanished to be replaced with a sense of almost morbid
entertainment seeing them ruin their own lives so thoroughly. Harry was almost impressed
how much they were able to fuck up their time at Hogwarts with so little actually happening
to them. That took some real talent, which Harry hadn’t known either one of them possessed.

It was fascinating, though, to see how different certain people’s lives went with just a few
changes. Harry wondered what would have happened if he’d been sorted into Slytherin in his
first life. If Ron and Hermione would have crashed and burned quite as spectacularly as they
were doing now. Not to mention if Harry would have felt as at home in Slytherin then as he
did now. He suspected he might have befriended Blaise and Theo as well as they turned out
to be decent kids with personalities that appealed to Harry, then and now. His relationship
with Draco probably wouldn’t have turned to friendship since he reminded Harry strongly of
Dudley the first few times they met and Harry wouldn’t have wanted to spend time with him
for that reason.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Snape said with the most satisfied smile Harry had ever
seen on the man. Ron and Hermione had managed to melt their cauldron altogether. “For
sheer incompetency and disrupting the class. Keep this up and I won’t let you back in my
classroom.”

Hermione burst into tears while Ron’s whole face burned scarlet.

“That’s another 40 points they’ve lost just this morning. I don’t think they’ll be allowed back
in their tower at this point,” Draco said loud enough so the whole class could hear him. Snape
conveniently ignored this disruption as he stalked between the desks.

Harry finished a pretty good potion with the help of Neville and Millicent, since she gave
him permission to call her by her first name. That was every one of the first-year Slytherins
who had done so, save for Parkinson. And judging by the disgusted looks she kept giving him
ever since the opening feast, Harry wasn’t holding out much hope of that changing anytime
soon.

After lunch, where the whole school quickly heard about Ron and Hermione’s additional
point loss in Potions and McGonagall herself assigned them an extra week of detention for
their out of control behaviour, Harry and his friends met up in the library so they could finish
their homework. They all agreed that having a homework-free weekend was worth it
spending their Friday afternoon off in the library working hard.
“I heard from Aunt Amelia,” Susan said once they were all seated and had their books out.
She immediately had the full attention of everyone at their table. “She said she can’t act
without evidence. Hearsay from the Weasley twins isn’t enough, especially since those two
are notorious for their pranks and Aunt Amelia can’t waste Aurors investigating what might
very well be a hoax.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Blaise said. Several others voiced their agreement to that.

“What would your aunt consider evidence?” Neville asked carefully. “Something like a
photograph or something?”

“Neville,” Harry said with a frown. “You’re not suggesting going to take a picture of a giant
three-headed monster dog, are you?”

“Not me!” Neville said with a nervous chuckle. “But maybe the Weasley twins would. I
could ask them. I think they might like the excuse to break in there again.”

“Rather them than us,” Justin said with a shudder. Beside him, Daphne nodded vigorously in
agreement.

“If they don’t mind taking a picture then let them,” Harry said and turned to look at Susan.
“Do you think your aunt will accept that as evidence?”

“I think so, yes,” Susan said after a moment of consideration.

Harry wanted to reply but didn’t get the chance because Draco and his usual suspects
wandered by.

“Weasley’s prefect brother gave him a dressing down in the middle of the entrance hall,”
Draco told them gleefully as he stopped behind Harry. “The prefect also said he was telling
their mother and apparently their mother screams like a banshee and her howlers are
legendary.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear if that’s true soon enough,” Blaise said with an uninterested shrug.

Parkinson stood next to Draco, looking down at everyone over her pug nose. “Blaise, I don’t
understand how you can stand the company of Hufflepuffs, especially not that mudblood’s.”

Harry whirled around in his chair, wand dropping in his hand on instinct. “Parkinson, you
will not use that word anywhere near me ever again.”

“Potter, you cannot tell me – “

Harry stood up and pointed his wand in her face, eyes narrowed while he inhaled a deep
breath to calm himself down. He was going to make it clear to everyone that he would not
tolerate that kind of name-calling, not from anyone. “My mother was a muggleborn who gave
her life for me and liberated our society from the clutches of a madman. Aside from that,
Justin is our friend and welcome here. You are neither.”
Parkinson swallowed audibly, while Draco got his wand out but seemed unsure whether to
aim it at Harry or not.

“You get this one free, since you didn’t know any better,” Harry said quietly, with a mean
little smile. “But from now on, if I hear you use that word, I will hex you. I’ll start with
something innocent that Madam Pomfrey can easily reverse. But the more often you use that
word, the worse the hexes will become, until eventually I’ll use something permanent.
Something that one might find in the hidden parts of the Black family library. Is that
understood?”

“Yes,” Parkinson whispered and whipped around, fleeing the library as fast as she could.

“That goes for all of you,” Harry said while narrowing his eyes at Draco, who looked far
paler than usual. Draco didn’t reply but quickly followed Parkinson, the rest of his entourage
on his heels.

“Wow,” Neville whispered, and Harry gave him a confused look while he tucked his wand
away and sat down again.

“What?” Harry asked as he saw everyone staring at him with wide eyes.

“I believe we have all learned a valuable lesson today,” Blaise said with forced casualness.
“To not ever piss you off.”

“Well,” Harry said with a shrug. “Just don’t use that word and we’re fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ernie said with a nervous chuckle. “You’re kinda terrifying when
you’re angry.”

“Nah,” Harry insisted with a smile. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I won’t stand by and let
people insult one of my friends like that. Not now, not ever.”

“Thanks,” Justin said with a shy look. “Ernie told me about that word, how bad it is to use it.
I appreciate you calling her out for saying it.”

“Sure, anytime.” Harry was pleased to see that his friends lost their wide-eyed look one by
one and before long they all went back to their homework.

Later that day, after their house meeting where Snape even commented on the impressive
point-loss of Gryffindor as though it hadn’t been instigated by Draco and himself and was
just a happy coincidence putting Slytherin in the lead, Harry sat in their dorm playing
exploding snap with Theo and Blaise.

“You were,” Theo said out of the blue. “Terrifying.”

Harry shrugged, unsure what to say about that. “Then hopefully Parkinson will learn her
lesson before I have to make good on my threat.”

Theo stared at him for a long moment. “And referencing the Black family library like that
was inspired. If the rumours are true they have some very illegal books filled with very
illegal curses in their collection.”

“Hm.” Harry shrugged again, wanting to smack himself for giving away he knew about the
Black family library. It was an effective threat amongst pureblood Slytherins for sure, but at
the same time it also raised question about how Harry Potter knew it existed in the first place,
and better yet how he knew what kind of books were in it.

Blaise had his head tilted as he studied Harry openly. “When you were sorted in Slytherin I
was wondering if we would ever see Harry Potter as Dumbledore’s pet Gryffindor and
champion of mudbloods.”

“Blaise,” Harry said sharply. “Don’t make me hex you.”

Blaise’s smile was both innocent and challenging. Harry had no idea how he managed that. “I
was unsure about adding Justin to your little group at first, but he’s turned out to be a decent
fellow. Smart, polite, funny. He’s still a mudblood, though.”

“Blaise!” Harry sat up a little where they were sprawled on the floor.

“You’re just getting angry,” Theo whispered, seemingly understanding what Blaise was
trying to do, other than pissing Harry off. “You’re not asking why we call them mudbloods.”

Harry looked between them, realizing perhaps Theo had a point. “Fine. Why do you call
them that?”

“I’m so glad you asked, Harry.” Blaise looked for all the world like a tour guide about to
show Harry one of the wizarding world’s most important monuments. “Most people outside
of Slytherin would tell you it’s about blood purity, and for a few select Slytherins it certainly
is, but for myself and my friend Theodore here as well as many others it’s about traditions.”

“Yep,” Theo said with a decisive nod while he sorted through the deck of cards in his hands.

“What traditions?” Harry asked, bewildered. He’d never heard any of this. All he knew was
the blood purity explanation.

Blaise slow clapped as he gave Harry a mock bow. “Exactly, Harry. What traditions?”

“To accommodate muggleborns the Ministry has done away with a lot of traditions over the
last century or two. Most rituals we used to perform are now illegal,” Theo explained while
he barely looked at Harry. “It’s come to the point where we’re celebrating Muggle holidays
here at Hogwarts instead of the traditional wizarding ones. Christmas instead of Yule,
Halloween instead of Samhain, Easter instead of Ostara.”

“I had no idea,” Harry said honestly. “No one ever told me this.”

“We’re telling you now,” Blaise pointed out.

“I don’t see why you have to call muggleborns that word, though. It’s not Justin’s fault this
happened, or my mum’s.” Harry looked between Blaise and Theo, eager to get an explanation
for that.
“We call them that because they’re at the root of the problem. They come into our world and
try to change it to their standards,” Theo said while meeting Harry’s gaze with a steady one
of his own. “They’re charmed by the magical castle and the flying broomsticks, but when we
want to commune with our departed ancestors on Samhain they demand we change our ways
because it goes against their Muggle religion or traditions.”

“In other words, they act like tourists.” Blaise said, his expression serious and focused.

Harry considered that and realized he’d thought like that as well, at least for a few years.
During his first life, no matter how much he wanted to stay in the wizarding world and call it
his permanent home, he hadn’t been able to because they kept shipping him back to the
Dursleys in the Muggle world where he’d grown up and where everything was familiar and
made sense. And even now he sometimes still felt more at home in the Muggle world
because he knew it better still. Hell, just last week Voldemort had mentioned solicitors and
Harry hadn’t even known they existed in the wizarding world. Kinda like a tourist wouldn’t
know everything about a new country they were visiting.

“Huh,” Harry finally said just to make some sound.

“Is this feeling at all familiar?” Blaise asked with a knowing look.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry said, frowning at these new realizations. “But that still doesn’t
mean you should use that name. You should go after the people in charge who allow this to
happen if you want to change it.”

“What do you think the Dark Lord was trying to do,” Theo muttered while he stared at the
cards in his hands.

“The Dark Lord was fucknuts insane,” Harry all but growled. “He may have had good plans
once upon a time, but by the end he was a rabid dog that needed to be put down.”

It wasn’t until Theo and Blaise both stared at him with wide eyes that Harry realized what
he’d just said.

“He may have had good plans,” Blaise quoted him with no small amount of glee.

“Harry,” Theo said, sitting up and poking Harry in the arm over and over again. “Harry, did
you just imply what I think you just implied?”

“You have hidden depths.” Blaise actually threw his head back and laughed. “First you
mention the Black family library like you’ve seen it and now you all but compliment the
Dark Lord’s plans.” Blaise shook his head and laughed again. “I’m so glad I decided to join
your little group. I have a feeling our future is going to be most interesting.”

“Ugh,” Harry moaned while he buried his face in his hands. He had really not wanted to
reveal this much this early in the game. “Can we please just forget I said that?”

“No,” Theo insisted while he was still poking Harry in the arm. “Harry, what were you
saying?”
Blaise placed hand on Theo’s arm and gently urged him to stop physically bothering Harry.
“We won’t forget it, but we will ignore it for now.” Blaise gave Harry a wicked grin. “After
all, we have seven years to get to the bottom of this. Right, Theo?”

“Yeah, fine, we’ll be patient,” Theo agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. “But you can’t
expect us to forget this, Harry.”

“Good enough for now.” Harry rubbed his hands across his face and pushed some of his long
hair that had escaped his customary ponytail out of his eyes. “Back to the original topic... can
we come to some sort of agreement on that?”

“What kind of agreement?” Blaise asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“You two don’t use that word around me, and I’ll make an effort to learn about wizarding
traditions and I promise to help restore them.”

Theo and Blaise looked at each other with raised eyebrows. A small smile appeared on
Theo’s face while Blaise leaned back on his hands and released a satisfied sigh. “It’s a deal,”
Theo said and finally distributed the cards to each of them for another round of exploding
snap.

While Harry took a shower an hour later he decided to start learning about these traditions
Theo and Blaise had mentioned as soon as possible. He had a few ideas where to start. Once
he was sitting in his bed, curtains firmly closed, he called Kreacher.

If Kreacher was surprised to find himself standing on Harry’s bed he didn’t show it. “Little
Master is calling Kreacher?”

“Hi,” Harry said with a little wave. “I need your help.”

“Kreacher will be helping the little Master.”

“Awesome. It’s been brought to my attention that I don’t know anything about wizarding
traditions, holidays and rituals.” Harry had to smile when Kreacher perked up hearing these
subjects. “Could you go through the Black library and find me some good books about these
subjects suitable for a beginner?”

“Kreacher will be doing so right away and Kreacher will be putting them on the little
Master’s bed while he sleeps.” And with that Kreacher popped away.

One down, one more to go, but for some reason Harry was suddenly feeling reluctant to call
Voldemort and he wasn’t sure why.

Which was a lie. Harry knew exactly why. Ever since Voldemort had confessed to Harry he
apparently preferred men over women, at least romantically, Harry had been thinking about
it. Not all the time, sure, especially not that day what with everything that had happened. But
in between all the chaos of that day, every time Harry had a moment to think about nothing at
all, his mind went back to the knowledge that for some reason Tom Riddle liked men. Liked
them physically, in ways that probably involved sex of some sort.
Harry had nothing against these kind of things. Not at all. He’d just never really thought
about it, and now for the last twenty-four hours he suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about it
and it was kind of freaking him out a little bit to be so obsessed with Voldemort’s love life of
all things.

But he really wanted to talk to Voldemort because he was sure Voldemort would know plenty
of interesting things pertaining to wizarding traditions. So Harry reminded himself that he
was a Gryffindor, at least once upon a time, and he pulled out his silver mirror and activated
it with some hisses of parseltongue.

“Soulmate!” he said the moment Voldemort answered. “I have need of your older than dirt
brain.”

“Good evening to you, too,” Voldemort said pleasantly. “What can my as of yet magically
constructed brain do for you?”

Harry released a deep sigh and tried not to think about what Voldemort might have gotten up
to with some of his male Death Eaters in the past. “Today I’ve learned that I don’t know
anything about wizarding traditions and rituals and such and I need to learn.”

Voldemort laughed in Harry’s face. “I see you’ve received a little Slytherin education. Did
they call you a tourist as well, my dear?”

Harry stared at Voldemort for a moment before shaking his head. “Not to my face, but the
word was mentioned and it made me realize that in my first life that was exactly how I felt
for the longest time.”

Voldemort nodded knowingly. “It is the curse of having been raised in the Muggle world, one
we share. We cannot help which culture we’ve been immersed in since birth, what world is
the most familiar to us.”

“Do you ever get to feel like the wizarding world is your home?” Harry asked, hoping that
would happen sooner rather than later.

“Yes, eventually,” Voldemort said with a gaze that was miles away and a smile that seemed
mostly nostalgic. “For me it was after I finished Hogwarts and worked at Borgin and Burkes
while living in a small attic room in Knockturn Alley. It was then that I realized I never had
to return to the Muggle world ever again and could truly call the wizarding world home.”

“Maybe that’s why that hadn’t happened for me yet in my first life,” Harry mused. “I hadn’t
really finished Hogwarts yet to where I got to live on my own and work and stuff. I spent
almost a year living in a magical tent trying to stay out of your hands but that was just
survival.”

“I suspect it might happen sooner for you this time,” Voldemort said with a small nod. “Since
you’ve already spent a number of years in the magical world.”

“I hope so. I am a wizard. I have nothing against Muggles, but I want the wizarding world to
be my home.” Harry was surprised by how much he meant that. “I already asked Kreacher
for some books.”

“The Black library will have plenty on those subjects. Most of them illegal, probably, so be
careful where you read them.”

“Yeah, I’ve only been reading my private collection in bed and I keep them in my warded
trunk,” Harry said. He had no desire to explain even to his friends where he got some of the
books he had in his possession. Especially since most of them had ‘Property of Regulus
Black’ stamped somewhere inside of them.

“A wise decision. Your fellow Slytherins wouldn’t rush to report you but it would be foolish
to give them such easy blackmail material,” Voldemort said with an amused chuckle.

“Oh, talking about blackmail material,” Harry said while shaking his head. “I let slip way
more than I meant to during my impromptu education on wizarding traditions.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed as his smile grew. “Do tell.”

Harry buried his face in his hands as his cheeks heated with a blush. “I may have accidentally
sort of implied I kind of agreed with some of your plans once upon a time.”

Voldemort’s laugh was short and sharp. “Oh, Harry, my dear, how you please me.”
 Chapter 15
Chapter Summary

Harry goes looking for his mail, learns Regulus has something to teach him still, has a
heart-to-heart with his soulmate and finally makes it to the Halloween feast where
Quirrell makes a surprising announcement that has nothing to do with a troll.

Time began moving faster as Harry got used to his new routine as a first-year Slytherin. Or at
least it felt like the days passed by quicker and quicker the closer they got to Samhain.

Neville kept them all up to date on the gossip from Gryffindor tower. Molly Weasley did
indeed send a howler and it was rather legendary as she screamed across the Great Hall that
she would pull Ron out of Hogwarts if he dared to lose so much as one more point. Ron
looked a little green and ready to throw up by the time the howler destroyed itself. After that,
according to Neville, Ron kept to himself for the most part and didn’t put a toe out of line, at
least for a few weeks. He’d found a chess friend in a third year Ravenclaw girl named
Madison Coles, a Muggleborn who was somewhat of a chess prodigy and who had competed
in Muggle chess matches before learning she was a witch and attending Hogwarts. The twins
introduced them, since she was in their year, and Ron and Madison could be found playing
chess at least a few afternoons a week in the Great Hall where Madison regularly trounced
Ron, much to his delight. The rest of the time Ron spent with Seamus and Dean, playing
cards in the common room and even joining them in the library on occasion to do his
homework.

Hermione took a while longer to calm down, and Neville heard from Lavender that it
involved talks with the seventh year Gryffindor prefect named Rhonda Hollis, Angelina
Johnson’s older cousin, who explained to Hermione in no uncertain terms why people were
treating her the way they did and how Hermione was only making things worse for herself by
how she acted in response. That didn’t do the trick just yet, and it took McGonagall actually
bringing Hermione’s parents to Hogwarts for a serious conversation with their daughter and
herself. Hermione’s parents were both saddened and appalled that their daughter was making
such a spectacle of herself and gave her a good talking to while also making suggestions for
how to behave in ways that didn’t involve Hermione trying to police the whole world around
her. After that Hermione kept her head down and while she still occasionally couldn’t resist
trying to boss people around, now most people simple pointed out what she was doing and
she backed down. Usually. Other than that, Hermione spent her time studying in the library
by herself, reading in the Gryffindor common room in the evening and generally minding her
own business.

Harry was utterly relieved when that meant she ignored him as well.
Ron and Hermione still couldn’t stand each other, though, and after another Potions class
where they lost thirty points between them, McGonagall stepped in (much to Snape’s
chagrin) and insisted that Ron pair with Seamus while Hermione worked with Dean. Order
was thusly restored, Dean’s Potions grade improved a significant amount, and while Ron and
Seamus were well matched in terms of talent in Potions, at least now Ron managed to brew
something instead of blowing up cauldrons every class.

Harry watched it all from a distance, fascinated and amused to see his former best friends
unknowingly adjust to a life without him by their side. It was a strangely appealing social
experiment, and Harry spent a few hours debating the concept of how one small change could
cause huge ripples in the world around them with Barty, who had gotten his hands on a few
Muggle books on chaos theory and the like, and who found the whole idea fascinating as
well.

Neville came through for them with a few pictures of the Cerberus courtesy of the Weasley
twins. It took some doing to get them since the twins didn’t have a camera. They finally
convinced Lee Jordan’s older sister Juliet, already out of Hogwarts, to send them her camera.
The twins then took the pictures and sent the camera back to Juliet so she could develop the
pictures before sending them to the twins to hand off to Neville. All in all, it took a few
weeks, but finally Susan sent the needed evidence to Amelia Bones, who promised to take
the pictures before the board of governors and demand an explanation. This was apparently
standard procedure for any concerns that weren’t urgent and life-threatening, and it wouldn’t
be happening until the end of November during the next meeting of the board.

Harry grumbled about bureaucracy but accepted that this was how these situations were
ultimately resolved. And no matter the outcome, Dumbledore would be called to explain why
he was keeping a vicious beast behind a locked door that any first-year with a wand could
open. And Dumbledore hated explaining himself, which was all that mattered to Harry in his
quest to make Dumbledore’s life a little more uncomfortable.

Another issue that arose and which Harry had never even once considered during his
previous life was his mail.

“I’ve been wondering,” Theo said during one of their customary evening games of exploding
snap. “Why you don’t get much mail, Harry.”

Harry looked up at him in surprise. “My muggle aunt hates using owls,” he offered as an
explanation about his lack of mail from his immediate family without having to go into his
appalling home-life in detail. The only mail he received so far were the very occasional
packages from Voldemort.

“I think what Theo means is your lack of fan mail,” Blaise said, smile more than a little
teasing.

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered. He was mortified to feel a blush heating his cheeks but he
couldn’t help it. He’d always been uncomfortable with his fame and he probably always
would be.
“I’m serious, though,” Theo said as gave Harry a sharp look. “Think about it. You’re the Boy
Who Lived, like it or not. You should be getting fan mail. Maybe not as much as you used to,
but people should still be writing you. So where is your mail?”

Harry was about to instinctively protest the idea of fan mail again until he actually considered
it and realized Theo had a good point. He was famous, and especially thanks to those silly
books Miss Elderflower so diligently wrote, children the world over grew up with stories
about him. He should be getting some mail at least. “You know,” he finally said, confused
almost beyond reason. “I have no clue. The first piece of owl post I’ve ever received was my
Hogwarts letter.”

“That sounds like someone set up a mail redirection ward,” Blaise mused with a thoughtful
frown. “Understandable when you were an infant living with Muggles, but you’d think they
would at least let you know about it. Not to mention give you the mail that’s deemed safe
now that you’re at Hogwarts.”

“You should ask Professor Snape about this,” Theo suggested as he shuffled his deck of
cards. “Especially since you are the last Potter. Who knows what kind of important mail is
being kept from you right now.”

“Good idea,” Harry said, still bewildered that he hadn’t ever actually considered this before.
He should have. Someone should have, at least. Maybe Hermione or Mrs Weasley or Sirius
should have realized Harry should be getting more mail than he was receiving. But no one
had ever mentioned it to him, and Harry, deeply uncomfortable with his fame on a good day,
hadn’t ever thought about fan mail either. And while he didn’t look forward to talking to
Snape of all people about fan mail, he at least realized that he needed adult help and that this
was a rather important matter.

Who knows what kind of important documents or business offers he should have been
receiving, in his previous life and in this one.

So the next afternoon, during Snape’s office hours, Harry knocked on his office door.

“Enter,” Snape said, and Harry did so at once. Snape was seated behind his imposing desk,
grading essays with sharp swipes of his quill and copious amounts of red ink. “Potter. What
do you want?”

That was still a more polite response than Harry thought he would get from Snape. “Sir, Theo
and Blaise brought something to my attention. Aside from one or two close friends sending
me a few things, I’ve not received any mail.”

Snape snorted and crossed out half the writing on the page before him. Harry winced on that
poor student’s behalf. “Your lack of fan mail is hardly my concern.”

“Yes, Sir, but think about it for a moment,” Harry said urgently. “I have not received any
wizarding mail for my entire life, aside from my Hogwarts letter, the Daily Prophet to which
I have a subscription, and some things from a friend. Blaise suggested someone might be
stealing my mail.” He decided on this little lie to make himself seem appropriately young.
Mail wards were not something an average first year would know about, but a thief stealing
his mail was noteworthy even to a child.

Snape finally looked up and stared at him. “I sincerely doubt anyone cares enough about the
kind of letters filled with infatuated drivel penned by children you might be receiving to steal
them, Potter. However, a more likely scenario that occurred is that the headmaster placed a
mail redirection ward upon your person to ensure your Muggle family wasn’t buried under
piles of owl post once they took you in.” Snape’s sneer became even more pronounced. “I am
to assume you’d like to receive your mail from this point onward?”

“Yes, please, Professor,” Harry said with his politest, most hopeful smile, inwardly terribly
amused by Snape’s reaction to Harry’s mail situation. It was funny that now that Harry was
older, at least on the inside, he had a far greater appreciation for the art of sarcasm Snape so
clearly possessed.

“Wait here, Potter, and don’t touch anything.” Snape got up from his desk and disappeared
through a door on the right, which Harry speculated either led to his classroom or to his
private quarters. Probably the latter. Harry sat quietly and didn’t touch anything, and it took
about ten minutes or so before Snape returned, sneer still firmly in place.

“The headmaster sends his sincerest apologies for this oversight and he has removed the ward
at once,” Snape said in obvious distaste while he pulled a piece of paper from his desk and
wrote a few things down.

Harry smiled gratefully, meanwhile thinking that the headmaster was full of shit, or
completely senile. Possibly both, because in Harry’s first life he’d never even thought to
remove the mail ward without anyone calling him out on it like Harry was doing now.

“Learn these detection charms, Potter,” Snape said, sliding the piece of paper across the desk
towards Harry. “We wouldn’t want you to perish courtesy of a piece of cursed fan mail, now
would we?” Snape didn’t seem at all put out by that idea judging by his smirk. “Return
during my office hours on Monday to demonstrate these charms to me, to ensure you have
mastered them. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry said as he got up from his chair. He hesitated until Snape narrowed
his eyes at him. “What about the mail I’ve already received?”

“It’s been destroyed over the years, Potter,” Snape snapped. “Hogwarts does not run a mail
service for child heroes, after all. The headmaster assured me anything of monetary value
was added to your vault, any toys and books that weren’t cursed were donated to the St
Mungo’s children’s ward and everything else was incinerated. Is that clear, or do you need a
moment to mourn the loss of countless pounds of chocolates spiked with love potions?”

Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. “No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” And with that he left
Snape’s office, looking at the list of spells he’d been given. Some he already knew and a few
others he’d look up in the library and practice during the weekend. Harry did realize he
should take his mail security seriously. There were any number of potions or curses that
could be hidden inside pieces of innocent mail and do very real, possibly lethal, damage.
Voldemort agreed when Harry told him about the mail redirection wards that evening.

“The old man probably kept them up in your first life to control the flow of information you
would receive,” Voldemort said with a thoughtful look. “I’ll send you a few items to help
with your protection against cursed owl post.”

And the next day Harry received a book with even more detection charms than Snape had
given him. He also received a necklace, a plain golden chain, which contained a few shield
and protection charms that would help protect him from most curses, save the Unforgivables.

“Thanks,” Harry told Voldemort later that day. He’d put the necklace on at once and
Voldemort seemed more than pleased when he saw it around Harry’s neck. “Please, whatever
you do, don’t tell Barty you’ve sent me jewellery. Don’t give him more ammunition.”

“I’m not that stupid, my dear. Barty is none the wiser,” Voldemort assured him.

“Nice necklace,” Barty said when Harry talked to him through their mirrors a few days later.
“Is it new?”

“Oh, this old thing?” Harry said while quickly tucking the chain inside his pyjama shirt.

Another thing Harry focused on during these weeks was learning about traditions. Kreacher
left him a handful of books from the Black library. Some seemed innocent enough, simply
describing magical holidays and what they stood for and how they could be celebrated. One
book, though, contained nothing but rituals, one even more bizarre or gruesome than the next.
Some even mentioned human sacrifices to power certain complicated rituals and at that point
Harry closed the book and decided to start on the next title in his to read pile.

He also dug through Regulus’ collection in his trunk and that’s where he struck gold. Regulus
had been a note taker in the margins of his books, much like Snape had done in his potions
book once upon a time, and apparently Regulus had lots of idea on how to teach the ignorant
muggleborns and half-bloods about wizarding traditions and rituals.

“Kreacher,” Harry called as he read through Regulus’ notes in the margins of a book on ways
to honour your ancestors during Samhain.

Kreacher appeared on the foot of Harry’s bed. “Little Master is calling Kreacher?”

“Regulus had plans to educate ignorant witches and wizards about traditions, did you know
that?” Harry turned to book around in his lap to show Kreacher the notes Regulus had left
behind.

“Yes, Kreacher is knowing of Master Regulus’ plans to teach the mudbloods and filth proper
wizarding ways.”

Harry ignored the name-calling for now, aware that Kreacher had been indoctrinated for
decades at this point and it was impossible to expect him to change his behaviour overnight.

“Tell me everything you know about Regulus’ plans,” Harry told the old elf while he reached
for a notebook and a self-inking quill. And Kreacher did talk for at least an hour while Harry
took notes until his wrist hurt and his eyes were dry.

Voldemort seemed surprised by Regulus’ plans when Harry told him. “Regulus certainly
never talked about educating Muggleborns anywhere near me.”

“Seeing as you would probably have crucioed him into next week that’s not really
surprising,” Harry said with a snort.

“You have a point,” Voldemort conceded with a small nod. “And so did Regulus. We do need
education for those raised by Muggles, so that they truly learn what it means to be a witch or
wizard and not just how to make a feather fly.”

“After Samhain, this might be something we could work on together,” Harry suggested, eager
for a project that would keep him busy. Writing essays on topics he already knew inside and
out was dreadfully boring as he’d found out. “We could even make it a point to reveal to the
public. Your new identity announces it, and I openly agree with you or something.”

“That is certainly a possibility. After Samhain we’ll work out the details of this plan.”

“Just ten more days!” Harry pointed out with a wide grin. He’d started counting down to
Samhain every time he talked to Voldemort since they were a month away from the big day.
“How excited are you, soulmate of mine?”

“Very,” Voldemort said with a small but honest smile. “You have no idea how much I’m
looking forward to the simple things in life again, after not having had a normal, adult body
for over a decade.”

“Nah, I can imagine,” Harry said with an understanding look. “I miss my big body, too, from
time to time.”

“Yes, I’m sure, but at least you have a body. I was a wraith for years. It is a torture beyond
compare to see the world move by and not being able to be a part of it,” Voldemort said while
he stared into the distance. “I cannot wait to simply walk again, take a long bath, visit a
bookstore. Things I never thought I’d miss while I butchered my soul and ruined my life.”

“You’ll do all those things again soon, Tom,” Harry said, almost wanting to reach through the
mirror to offer Voldemort a comforting pat or something. “And your soul is as it should be.
You’ll be fine.”

“What a lucky day it was when you were betrayed, Harry Potter.” Voldemort chuckled and
shook his head. “If Dumbledore had let you be, I’d still be dead and my soul stuck in pieces
for all eternity.”

“But you’re not. We’re here, and we can do it all over again. Do it better.” Harry felt a lump
form in his throat and he swallowed it away quickly. For some reason the thought of not
having gotten this second chance, of not having had the chance to get to know Voldemort,
Tom, the way he had was so upsetting it almost made him cry. Harry hated crying, so he
looked to the side until he felt his emotions calm down a little.
“Thank you,” Voldemort whispered, not looking at Harry. “I doubt I’ve said it to you before,
but I do mean it. Thank you for including me in your second life, my dear.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, meaning it. “I doubt my do-over would have been as
enjoyable if I hadn’t included you.”

Voldemort didn’t say anything to that, but simply smiled at Harry.

Over the next few days Harry thought about that conversation often, about the realization
he’d had concerning not having gotten to know Voldemort. It terrified him somehow, the
thought that all he might have known was the insane version with the broken soul and not the
intelligent, thoughtful and funny man he turned out to be.

The morning of Halloween Harry prepared Theo and Blaise for his departure after the feast.
“I’ll come to the feast with you, of course,” he assured his friends during breakfast. “I
wouldn’t miss it for anything. But afterwards, I’m going to take some time for myself to
remember my parents.”

“I understand,” Theo said quietly. “I always take a moment to honour my mother on

Samhain.”

Harry nodded at him, trying not to show his surprise. That was the first time he’d heard Theo
mention his mother. Heck, Harry hadn’t even realized she was dead.

Blaise looked decidedly uncomfortable with the idea of honouring anyone deceased, but
considering who his mother was and how many stepfathers Blaise must have lost over the
years that wasn’t very surprising.

All throughout the day everyone around Harry got louder and more rambunctious at the
thought of attending Hogwarts’ famous Halloween feast. They made feathers fly in Charms
that afternoon and Ron and Hermione weren’t paired with each other (McGonagall must have
warned every teacher because Harry never saw them work together anymore), and thus there
was no Hermione running away in tears to hide in the bathroom.

Harry himself was full of nervous energy which he found difficult to hide, but the people
around him simply assumed it was the date itself, the anniversary of his parents’ deaths that
had him riled up and nothing more. Harry let them keep their assumptions.

Finally the feast started, the tables laden with more food than most of them had ever seen.
But before Dumbledore could get up to make a little speech, Quirrell stood up and tapped a
spoon against his glass to get everyone’s attention. Harry narrowed his eyes. If Quirrell did
anything to disrupt the feast, Harry was going to turn him into a pigeon.

“Please, may I have everyone’s attention,” Quirrell said as he stood behind the teacher’s
table, gesturing for everyone to be quiet. “When I requested the Defence Against the Dark
Arts position, I did it for two reasons. One, because I wanted to teach this fascinating subject,
of course. Two, because I wanted to break the curse on the position once and for all.”
Students all around the Great Hall whispered loudly about an actual curse affecting the
defence teacher until Quirrell shushed them again. “During my sabbatical last year I’ve
travelled far and wide, gathering as much information and advice about how to break this
curse, and tonight I am more than happy to announce that I have broken it. The curse on the
Defence Against the Dark Arts position is no more!” Quirrell took a dramatic bow while a
smattering of students applauded.

“Thank you, Professor Quirrell,” Dumbledore said as he got to his feet. “I’m sure you have
done an outstanding job and will continue to teach the students at this school for many years
to come.”

Harry stared at Quirrell with his mouth hanging open for a few moments until he noticed and
snapped it shut. This had Voldemort written all over it. The new and improved Voldemort
valued education and would agree that cursing the defence position was a silly thing to do
which negatively affected generations of students. He would want that curse gone sooner
rather than later and apparently he’d told Quirrell how to get rid of it.

That bastard had just conveniently forgotten to tell Harry, who vowed to bring that up as soon
as the ritual was done later that night.

The feast was as excellent as Harry remembered it and all the better for the distinct lack of
troll interrupting everyone’s evening. Harry stuffed himself with all manner of scrumptious
things, and had two servings of treacle tart just because he could. As the feast wound down
and students wandered out of the Great Hall, Harry said goodbye to his friends with a
knowing look and a brief smile.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he whispered, and made his way to the nearest bathroom. Inside he
threw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and pulled out the Marauder’s Map. He
decided to use the hidden passage on the third floor that led straight to Honeydukes. He knew
it well and the moment he left Hogwarts’ wards he could summon Kreacher to transport him
to Little Hangleton.

The coast was clear and Harry reached the third floor in no time. He slipped inside the
passage and rushed towards Hogsmeade through the dark, only the light of his wand
illuminating the way. He cursed his decision to eat as much as he had when he got a stitch in
his side, but he ignored it, much too excited about what was to come.

And how weird was that? The first time Harry had been present at Voldemort’s resurrection,
the whole scene had been straight from a horror movie. One innocent boy dead, people losing
limbs, and Harry’s first taste of the cruciatus curse. Harry’s had nightmares for years about
what had happened that day. And now here he was, practically skipping on the way to
voluntarily help Voldemort get his body back.

Before long he reached the trapdoor that led to Honeydukes’ basement and he knew he was
clear of the wards. Kreacher came as soon as he was called and popped him right to the
cemetery where Barty and Voldemort were waiting.

Voldemort sat in his customary leather chair right there between two headstones, and Barty
waved Harry a cheerful hello as he adjusted the flames below the enormous cauldron with his
wand. But Harry saw immediately there was a third person there, someone Harry really
didn’t want to see on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths.

“Wormtail,” Harry growled and drew his wand.

 Chapter 16
Chapter Summary

Guess who's back? Harry has a great evening resurrecting the Dark Lord until someone
sticks their nose where it doesn't belong.

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand was ripped from his hand right before he could aim it at Wormtail. He whipped
around to see Voldemort catch it with his small hand. Harry’s blood was boiling and he
stormed towards Voldemort.

“Give me back my wand!” Harry snarled.

“Not until you tell me why you’re suddenly this upset,” Voldemort said with a patient look
which only infuriated Harry more.

“You have to ask?” Harry gestured wildly behind himself where Pettigrew was cowering near
Barty. “You bring him here on the anniversary of my parents’ deaths and you’re surprised by
my reaction? Really, Tom?”

“Yes, really,” Voldemort replied in a deadpan tone while he looked genuinely confused.
“Harry, I actually murdered your parents and I don’t see you this angry at me being here.”

“BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THEIR FRIEND!” Harry bellowed right into Voldemort’s
face. “YOU DIDN’T BETRAY THEM!”

“Ah.” Voldemort swallowed and gave an understanding nod. “I must confess it hadn’t
occurred to me that would bother you this much, but on second thought, of course it does.”
He offered Harry a small, unsure smile. “My apologies, my dear.”

Harry’s anger subsided enough for him to accept Voldemort’s apologies with a soft, “Fine.”
He inhaled several deep breaths to calm himself down further, minding some of the exercises
he’d learned through his PTSD and anxiety self-help books. Breathe in through your nose,
hold it for a second and breathe back out through your mouth for as long as you can make it
last. Meanwhile, acknowledge the memories that invade your mind. For Harry, these were
several jumbled memories of his first life, of him seeing his parents for the first time in the
mirror of Erised, of learning the truth about Sirius and Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, of
seeing Pettigrew murdered by his metal hand after he hesitated a little too long on whether to
help Harry or not, and of seeing Hermione and Ron and Ginny all condemning him to death.

Harry needed to acknowledge this, rationalize it, to make sure these memories couldn’t
traumatize him any further. His parents and his godfather had been betrayed by the man
standing just a short distance away. Harry himself had been betrayed by people he loved,
people he trusted, people who he would have died for. Who he did die for.

And Harry went to school with some of those people every day without breaking down or
drowning in his own rage.

Yes, he’d been betrayed, just like his parents and godfather. And he was here to help their
murderer regain a full body. If he could forgive Voldemort enough to ally himself with the
man, he could tolerate Pettigrew presence at least.

He would never forgive Pettigrew, just like he would never forgive Ron, Hermione or Ginny.

He’d forgiven Voldemort because he’d been utterly without reason, completely insane when
he came after the Potters. He was different now.

Pettigrew or Harry’s former friends had no such excuses.

Voldemort waited quietly and without comment as Harry collected himself.

“Can you just send him away?” Harry finally managed to ask, figuring the less he saw of
Wormtail, the better.

“And have Barty be the one to cut off his own hand?” Voldemort asked, appalled.

When Harry hesitated a second to long, Barty let out an affronted, “Hey!”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t want Barty to have to do that,” Harry finally conceded. Voldemort
handed him his wand back, which Harry tucked away in his arm holster at once to prevent
himself from ‘accidentally’ cursing Pettigrew.

“Very well,” Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh. “Wormtail, stay away
from Harry.” Pettigrew cowered some more and moved to keep the enormous cauldron
between himself and Harry. “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. Barty, start the ritual.”

“Harry, here,” Barty gestured to a spot beside the cauldron, and when Harry stood there he
was handed a knife. “I know you already gave our Lord some vials of blood, but fresh blood
will work better.”

“All right,” Harry said agreeably. At least he wasn’t expected to cut off a limb so there was
that.

“My Lord, are you ready?” Barty asked, and when Voldemort nodded Barty removed his
child-sized clothes with a quick spell, levitated him towards the cauldron and dropped him in
at once. Harry swallowed. He remembered in his last life he was hoping at this point that the
misshapen baby thing would drown, and now he was worried Voldemort might actually
drown when he stayed under far longer than anyone could hold their breath. But the ritual
had worked before, so Harry told himself it would work again and he kept from rushing
toward the cauldron to check if Voldemort was all right.
Barty waved his wand at the grave of Voldemort’s father. “Bone of the father, unknowingly
given.” A femur rose from the earth towards the cauldron where it fell in with a soft splash.

“Flesh from the servant, willingly given,” Barty said with a significant look at Pettigrew, who
whipped out a big knife and once again sliced off his own hand with a sharp cry. Barty didn’t
spare him a second glance and turned to Harry.

“Blood of the enemy turned ally, freely sacrificed.”

Harry sliced his palm open, ignoring the stinging pain, and held his bleeding hand above the
cauldron until Barty told him to step back. The potion inside the cauldron boiled more and
more violently until it spilled over the sides and swallowed the cauldron whole.

Biting his lip, Harry watched with bated breath as a humanoid form took shape out of the
rolling liquid. It became more solid by the second, bones and muscles and tendons visible
until they were all covered by pale skin. Absently, Harry wondered if it hurt to be remade like
that. He hoped for Voldemort’s sake it didn’t. At least it was over soon.

Both Barty and Harry rushed towards the still, naked figure lying face down on the grass.
Pettigrew sat against a headstone, whimpering while he cradled his stump, but Harry ignored
him. While Harry touched Voldemort’s bare shoulder his scar reacted with a slight itch,
maybe a tingle. Harry had asked Voldemort weeks ago why his scar never hurt these days
while it used to give Harry a migraine from hell at the drop of a hat. Voldemort reasoned it
was because he no longer felt murderous towards Harry. While Harry helped Voldemort sit
up, Barty summoned a black robe and spelled it onto his naked body.

“Tom?” Harry whispered, looking Voldemort over as well as he could. “You all right?”

“Yes,” Voldemort whispered and looked up at a crouching Harry with wide, brown eyes. “A
little disoriented, but in one piece at least.”

Harry stared at the man before him. At his human face, his sharp nose, his short, black hair,
his warm, brown eyes. Voldemort looked like he’d done in his twenties, before the butchering
of his soul had taken a toll on his appearance. Harry met Barty’s eyes for a moment and
smiled at him. Barty seemed utterly relieved everything had gone well and kneeled on
Voldemort’s other side.

“You look great,” Harry said because he didn’t know what else to say. “A lot less
conspicuous than in our previous life.”

“Thank you, my dear. We used a few different ingredients this time,” Voldemort said with a
soft chuckle as he accepted Harry’s hand to help him to his feet. “You did well, Barty.”

Barty bowed deeply and then got up to help Harry steady Voldemort on his feet. Harry was
only a short child and Voldemort was still very tall even as a regular human.

“Wormtail, come here,” Voldemort snapped once Barty handed him his wand. Pettigrew half
crawled, half stumbled until he sat in the grass before them. Voldemort conjured a silver hand
for him much as he’d done the first time around. And while Pettigrew muttered his thanks,
Voldemort aimed his wand at Pettigrew’s face. “Obliviate. Wormtail, return to your mission
at the ministry.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Pettigrew said, clearly in a daze, and apparated away.

Harry looked at Voldemort with a single eyebrow raised. Voldemort hadn’t obliviated anyone
the first time he got his body back.

“I wasn’t about to let my spy in the ministry keep his memories of seeing you help resurrect
me, Harry,” Voldemort explained with a smile. He straightened himself as best he could and
looked down at Harry with a haughty but amused expression. “Now let me introduce myself,
soulmate. I’m Thomas Cayden Gaunt. My late father unknowingly impregnated my mother,
and she kept my existence from him to protect me and keep me from his evil clutches.”

“Ha!” Harry said with a huge grin. “You’re going to be your own son. I was hoping for that.
It gives you the most opportunities.”

“Indeed.” Voldemort nodded at Barty, who was watching them with a smirk. “Barty and I
have thoroughly debated all the options for my new identity and we came to that conclusion
as well. This way I can start again with a clean slate while still retaining parts of my own
identity. A few select followers will be told the truth, after they swear me an unbreakable
vow to never reveal my true identity.”

“So what do I call you?” Harry asked, chest warm and cheeks glowing with happiness at
seeing his best friend, his soulmate, looking human and healthy and whole.

“I’m going to tell people to call me by my second name, Cayden, but to a select few I’ll be
Tom or Thomas.” Voldemort gave Harry a knowing look. “I knew it was futile to expect you
to not call me that, my dear. As for Lord Voldemort... that name as well as that man are now
truly dead.”

“You’re not that person anymore,” Harry said, understanding that the man he’d gotten to
know these past few months was not the Dark Lord who’d tried to kill him for years and
years.

“Exactly, I’m someone else now. Built upon the ruins of Voldemort’s failed life, certainly, but
ultimately a whole new person.” Voldemort briefly looked down and leaned a little heavier on
Harry’s bony shoulder. “You are doing your life over, and now I get the chance to do the
same.”

“I’m glad,” Harry said, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. Heck, from the tips of his
toes, even. Voldemort...no, Tom and he were connected on so many levels and with the man
sane once more it was impossible for Harry not to want good things for him. They shared a
soul, they were bound by a prophecy at one point, his blood now flowed through Tom’s
veins.

“I could do with a cup of tea,” Tom said, and Barty immediately called Winky to tell her to
have tea and a few light foods waiting for them at the house. Harry supported Tom as they
walked towards the house while Barty quickly cleaned up the cemetery with a few spells
until not a single shred of evidence remained of their activities.

Once inside they sat down around the coffee table in the reception room, significantly less
dusty and much nicer looking since the last time Harry had seen it. The red curtains were
new, the wooden floors and panelling on the walls had been scrubbed and refinished, and the
chandelier gleamed in the flickering light.

“I’ve decided to fix this place up and call it home, at least for the time being,” Tom explained
while Barty served them all tea.

“It looks great,” Harry said, turning down Barty’s offer of some finger sandwiches. He was
still full from the Halloween feast.

“It is mine and the house has lots of potential once it’s restored.” Tom sipped his tea and let
out a satisfied sigh. “Nothing tasted right while I occupied that homunculus,” he explained
when Harry gave him a questioning look. At once Tom ate a little sandwich with smoked
salmon whole and closed his eyes in obvious pleasure while he chewed.

Harry stared. He couldn’t help it. Seeing Tom so human and alive was breath-taking. And
when he realized he was staring Harry suddenly felt self-conscious and looked at Barty
instead. “What about you? Have you got a new identity waiting as well?”

“I certainly do. Now that our Lord is restored I’ll be visiting a wizard in Lebanon who
specializes in permanent human transfiguration. I’m going to become my own second cousin,
Bartholomew Crouch. That way I can inherit my family’s possessions and gold.” Barty’s grin
was wide. “Everybody thinks I’m dead, so they won’t question my new identity too much.
That wizard won’t have to change too much about my face.”

“That’s great,” Harry said, happy for his friend. “You’ll have a second chance as well.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Barty said in surprise. “I hadn’t even thought of it like that before.”

Harry looked back at Tom, who had by then finished a full plate of little sandwiches and was
already on his second cup of tea. Harry picked up his own cup and took a fortifying sip.
“What about your followers? Which ones will you tell? And can we please leave Bellatrix in
Azkaban?”

Tom snorted with laughter. “Bellatrix is an acquired taste, I suppose. Unfortunately Azkaban
has made her, and my other followers who still reside there, utterly unhinged. In my previous
life that suited me fine, but now that I’m going to use legitimate ways to change our society
they will not be of much use.” Tom frowned for a moment while he looked down at the cup
of tea in his hands. “I do feel a certain amount of guilt for leaving them there.”

“You were insane before,” Harry said, leaning forward a little to look Tom in the eye. “They
did all those things with their sanity intact. No offense to you, Barty, but what happened to
Neville’s parents was beyond cruel and they deserve to rot in prison for that.”
“None taken,” Barty said while giving Harry a reassuring smile. “I was there. I know how
cruel it really was. I never hurt them since I was only there as the look-out, but I also didn’t
stop Bellatrix, Rodolphus or Rabastan. I was young, foolish and had a grudge against an
abusive father and I didn’t care who got hurt as long as I got to lash out at him.”

“We all have made mistakes in our pasts,” Tom said quietly. “Some of us more than others.
Anyway, I plan to approach Lucius Malfoy and Theodorus Nott first, let them in on my
identity and my plans, and wrap them up in so many vows they’ll barely be able to breathe.”

“At this point Lucius Malfoy is still loyal to you,” Harry said while he recalled Lucius
Malfoy as he’d met him during his second year at Hogwarts in his previous life, not that shell
of a man he’d become after a year in Azkaban and while functioning pretty much as
Voldemort’s whipping boy.

“I do believe that Lucius was only ever really loyal to himself and his immediate family,”
Tom replied while Barty hummed his agreement. “But Lucius is an ambitious man and he’ll
be happy enough to play along since my plans will be advantageous for him and his social
standing.”

“What about money?” Harry asked bluntly. He knew it probably wasn’t polite to talk about
money like that but he also didn’t want Tom to struggle financially. “Do you have enough,
Tom? And you, Barty?”

“I’m inheriting my father’s vault,” Barty quickly assured him. “The Crouches have never
been a wealthy family like the Malfoys or the Blacks, but neither were we poor. My father
was a frugal man with a good Ministry salary so he only added to the vault over the years.”

Tom’s smirk was rather self-satisfied. “And I used to tithe my followers. They paid me for
the privilege of kneeling and kissing my robes. And the Ministry never found my hiding
places, so I have plenty of gold to set me up with some investments or a business of sorts.”
Shrugging, Tom reached for the second plate of sandwiches. They all remained quiet for a
few moments. Harry finished his cup of tea, Tom worked his way through the sandwiches
and Barty called Winky to ask for some sweets.

“Don’t you have your first Quidditch match soon?” Barty asked while Tom rolled his eyes at
the change of subject.

“Yep, this Saturday,” Harry said with a snicker at Tom’s antics. “The last time I won by
catching the Snitch with my mouth. The old man later used that Snitch to hide the
resurrection stone in for me. Did you set up the trap for Dumbledore, Tom? In the Gaunt
shack?”

“Yes. An exact replica of the ring lies in wait, cursed to hell and back.” Tom looked eager to
see his trap snap shut. Frankly, Harry was just as eager to see Dumbledore gone.

“I’ll still be in Lebanon this Saturday,” Barty said, obviously disappointed. “But I’ll come see
you play for your next match. I’ll be able to go out in public then, anyway.”
“Sure, that would be great.” Harry looked forward to see Barty out and about again. They
might even be able to meet up in Hogsmeade once Harry was allowed to go there in his third
year.

“We must also discuss your Christmas plans,” Tom said out of the blue.

“Huh?” Harry blinked at Tom in bewilderment. He was planning to stay at Hogwarts, mostly
because he always stayed at Hogwarts, or at least he had in his previous life. He honestly
hadn’t even considered that he could leave for the holidays until just now.

“We need to renew your Legilimency shield around that time,” Tom said, pouring himself yet
another cup of tea. He must have really missed it over the last decade, Harry mused. “And we
could use that time to go over some plans for teaching traditions and rituals.”

“I can’t just stay here, though,” Harry was quick to point out. “If I say I’ll go home and then
never show up at the Dursleys’, Mrs Figg will notice and tell Dumbledore.”

“So do what you did this summer. Sleep there, spend an hour or two there in the afternoon
and the rest of the time you can spend here,” Tom said with a careless shrug.

“Yeah, that would work,” Harry agreed with a nod. “I’m also planning on hiring a solicitor
for Sirius around that time, so I might need some advice for that then.”

Barty made a pained face. “Black’s not going to be well after spending that long amongst
dementors, Harry.”

“I know. I’ve seen it already, remember?” Harry sighed, feeling conflicted like he usually did
when he thought of Sirius. “I still want to get him out, though.”

“I understand,” Barty assured him. “He wasn’t a bad sort when I was in Azkaban. We talked
almost every day to try to keep our sanity.”

“I’m glad he had someone to talk to, at least for a while,” Harry whispered, suddenly tired to
the bone. “What time is it anyway?”

Barty checked his watch. “Twelve thirty. Bedtime for first-years for certain.”

Harry wanted to tell him off but he couldn’t because a yawn overtook him.

“Come, I will walk you to the door.” Tom got up, slowly and a little stiffly, but with
determination shining in his dark eyes. Harry understood that after ten years without a body,
Tom would be eager to put this one to good use. Harry followed him after saying a quick
goodbye to Barty and once they reached the entrance way Tom opened the front door for him.

“Thank you, my dear,” Tom said softly and took Harry’s left hand into his own, larger one.
He turned it palm up and pulled out his wand with his free hand. Slowly he moved the tip of
his yew wand across Harry’s palm, healing the cut Harry had inflicted upon himself. After
the wound was gone, Tom applied a gentle cleaning charm to spell away any dried blood.
“Thanks,” Harry whispered, throat suddenly dry. He gave Tom one last smile, which was
returned at once, pulled his hand free and then he walked into the neglected garden and called
for Kreacher who popped him right to where he’d picked him up earlier, just outside
Honeydukes’ cellar in the tunnel that led straight to Hogwarts.

Harry barely registered the long walk back to the castle. For some reason his hand felt like it
was warm where Tom had touched it and his scar tingled pleasantly, just a gentle, teasing
reminder that his soulmate was out there, whole and complete and handsome and human.

Right before slipping inside the castle, Harry threw on his invisibility cloak, but didn’t bother
with the map. It was late, most people would be in bed, and Harry trusted his cloak to keep
him safe from whatever teacher or prefect he might encounter. He was really looking
forwards to a good night’s sleep now that the day was over and the ritual had gone off
without a hitch. All the tension and stress that had been building up for months leading up to
Tom finally getting his body back was now released and Harry was ready to sleep for a whole
day or more.

Too bad Snape stopped Harry from finally making it to bed. Harry tucked his invisibility
cloak away right before entering the common room, and that was a good thing, too, because
in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace sat Snape, casually reading the Daily Prophet
someone had probably left lying around.

“Potter,” Snape said without looking up from the paper in his hands. “Curfew for first-years
is nine ‘o clock, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.” Harry stood awkwardly between Snape and the door to the dormitories.

“Would you care to explain where you have been?” Snape’s eyes were still glued to the paper.

“Honouring my parents, Sir. It’s Samhain and the anniversary of their deaths. It seemed
appropriate to spend some time in reclusion this evening.” Harry kept his voice steady, telling
himself Snape had no evidence he’d done something wrong, like say, help resurrect a Dark
Lord.

“Indeed?” Snape finally looked up and straight at Harry. “A noble endeavour. However, the
feast ended around eight thirty. It is now almost one. That is a lot of time spent in reclusion,
isn’t it?”

“I spent some time meditating,” Harry replied evenly. “I forgot the time, Sir.”

Snape got up from the leather chair much like a panther getting up to hunt down some
innocent animal. He stalked towards Harry and loomed over him. “The headmaster wanted to
know if your scar has bothered you this evening.”

“My scar?” Harry looked up at Snape with wide eyes. “It’s never bothered me, except that
people keep staring at it, Sir.”

Glaring at him, Snape crossed his arms. “I do not believe a word you say, Potter. And I will
find out the truth. And until I do, I will be keeping a very close eye on you. Detention with
me, tomorrow evening at seven, for being out after curfew.” And with that Snape turned on
his heels and left Harry standing there in the common room.

Fucking hell. The last thing Harry needed was for Snape to actively start keeping Harry under
surveillance.
 Chapter 17
Chapter Summary

Harry has an interesting dream, bullshits his way through his detention and tries to stop
his soulmate from making a mistake.

That night, Harry slept deeply and had the most amazing dream. He was cocooned inside a
warm, strong body but he wasn’t alone. Together they slid inside a hot bath, steam rising
around them while the scent of lemon and cedar invaded their senses. They sipped a glass of
whiskey and it warmed their mouth and burned their throat and the smoky aftertaste tickled
their nose. And Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling as whole or as complete before. It was
as if he’d been missing half of himself but hadn’t realized it until he joined with this missing
part and finally knew what it was like to be one again.

“Harry, is that you?” The voice was soft and deep and Harry wanted to curl around it. “Are
you dreaming, my dear? Then perhaps we’ll dream together.” They slid inside a large bed
with thick blankets while a fire burned in the fireplace, and soon they were gliding through
different scenes together, some familiar to Harry and some utterly foreign but it was all
peaceful because he knew he wasn’t alone.

When he woke in the morning, Harry felt a pang in his chest at the loss of that warm, safe
feeling of completeness. He was suddenly utterly alone and aware of it. That was until his
senses returned and he realized he must have shared his mind, his soul with Voldemort last
night.

No, not Voldemort anymore, Harry reminded himself. Voldemort was dead and gone and not
ever coming back.

It was just Tom now. Thomas Gaunt.

Nevertheless, Harry was sure as he woke up completely that he’d connected with Tom while
he slept. And it had been the most amazing thing Harry had ever felt. So amazing, even, that
Harry was a little embarrassed to bring it up later that night during one of their mirror chats.
But he would, embarrassed or not. It was important to understand their connection, especially
now that it had returned so unexpectedly.

Ever since Harry found himself back in his eleven-year-old body his scar hadn’t given so
much as a peep. No pain, no tingles, no visions of any sort. Nothing. And then Tom got his
body back and his complete soul found a permanent home again and suddenly their
connection came back with a vengeance.
Then again, when Harry thought back to his first life, his scar hadn’t bothered him all that
much either until Voldemort got his body back in his fourth year. Sporadically he’d had short
bouts of pain when Voldemort’s wraith was nearby or feeling particularly murderous. When
Voldemort had inhabited a homunculus the visions in his sleep had started, but still only on
just a few rare occasions. And then Voldemort was resurrected and the headaches and mind
melting had really began.

It seemed that the second time around something similar was happening, except their feelings
for each other weren’t murderous. Quite the contrary, so their connection was now giving
pleasure instead of pain.

And yep, Harry was definitely a little embarrassed about this new phenomenon if the blush
he felt heating his cheeks was any indication. He still needed to discuss it with Tom that
evening, since a connection that just opened up out of the blue, no matter how pleasurable,
could be terribly disruptive, not to mention give the game away. Harry wanted to cause
Dumbledore a lot of doubt about his shared soul with Voldemort, starting with utterly
denying he’d ever felt the man through his scar. And he planned to keep that up no matter
what, but that meant he needed to control their connection or else he might just give himself
away.

“Morning,” Blaise said when Harry opened his curtains and hopped out of bed. Blaise was
just changing out of his pyjamas. “You got in late last night. I’m sure Snape was in here
looking for you at some point.

Harry groaned and rubbed a frustrated hand across his face. “Yeah, he found me while I
snuck into the common room. I’ve got detention tonight.”

“How terrible,” Blaise said, utterly without sympathy.

Harry shot him a rude gesture and went to get dressed.

The Daily Prophet made no mention of anything strange happening the evening before, not
that Harry had expected it to. But you never knew who could pick up on the kind of
necromantic magic they had used last night to park Tom’s soul in a brand new body. Besides
that, anyone marked by Voldemort would have felt something. Tom assured him it wouldn’t
be more than a short, slight burn, but you never knew what kind of conclusions someone
might draw from it and talk to the wrong person about it.

Harry skimmed through the paper as he did most mornings at breakfast. There was a very
short article mentioning it was the tenth anniversary of his parents deaths and the end of the
war on Halloween tucked away at the bottom of the front page. It didn’t mention Harry at all,
for which he was grateful.

So far the Daily Prophet hadn’t written much about him, aside from a short mention he’d
started Hogwarts, was sorted into Slytherin and was making friends and doing well in his
classes.

Rita Skeeter hadn’t set her sights on him just yet, but she would at some point, Harry knew.
He suspected he was still too young. Very few people would put up with a reporter vilifying
an actual eleven-year-old child. But once he was a teenager, around his fourth year like in his
last life, Harry was sure Rita would come calling. Harry wasn’t sure yet how to handle her. It
depended on a lot of things that were still up in the air. But at the very least Harry wouldn’t
put up with any slander courtesy of the Prophet. Barty had told him weeks ago he could sick
a solicitor on them if they started one of their smear campaigns again, and Harry planned to
at least do that when the time came.

Another novelty for Harry was all the mail he was now receiving. Most of it were innocent
letters or cards penned by children from across the globe who’d read one of those silly books
and whose parents must have told them Harry Potter was a real boy who they could write to.
Harry conscripted Kreacher to help him with this type of mail. Harry read the cards and
letters and replied with a copied form letter in which he thanked the child for writing to him
but in which he also gently explained he was just a kid himself and the books written about
him were fictional. In the evening he handed the letters off to Kreacher who made sure they
were all sent off using school owls. It wasn’t a huge distraction as Harry maybe received
some twenty to thirty of such letters a week.

The other type of correspondence Harry received was a little more disturbing. Written by
adults and meant to hurt him in a some way. These were thankfully sporadic, but they did
demonstrate it was a good idea to diligently use detection charms on every piece of mail he
received. So far Harry had received one cursed card which he didn’t open thanks to the
detection charms used, one letter filled with bubotuber pus, which he also caught in time, and
one box of chocolate cauldrons filled with love potion, which what the fuck? He was eleven!
What sick fuck sent love potions to a child? As Harry studied the accompanying card he got
the distinct impression the witch in question, someone named Lucinda Snow, had been
sending him spiked chocolates for at least a few years. So perhaps Snape hadn’t been
exaggerating when he mentioned destroying pounds of spiked chocolate.

After getting the go-ahead from Amelia Bones through Susan, Harry sent the whole lot off to
the Auror department. Let them deal with it. It was their job, after all.

“No love potions this morning?” Theo asked cheerfully as Harry folded his newspaper and
stuffed it in his book bag. Ever since Harry had received those blasted chocolates his friends
hadn’t let him forget it.

Harry gave him the stink-eye. “Keep bringing it up and I’ll offer the next batch I get to you
when you least expect it.”

Blaise chuckled while Theo looked a little disturbed by that thought. “You should have kept
the ones you got,” Blaise said with a casual kind of cruelty which still sometimes surprised
Harry. “And the next time Draco or Weasley got on your nerves, just offer them a chocolate
and sit back to watch the chaos.”

Of course, Blaise didn’t know Harry had already seen Ron doped up on a love potion once
and it had been kind of hilarious. But it also freaked Harry the fuck out when he really
thought about it. In many ways, it was worse than the imperius curse. Only so many people
could cast an imperius curse and really control you. But just about everyone could either
brew or buy a love potion since most weren’t even illegal, and control you that way.
And love potions could control a person enough to really screw up their lives. Just look at
Tom’s mother and father. No matter Merope had been a victim of abuse herself, what she’d
done to Tom Riddle senior was repeated rape and mind-control, plain and simple.

Harry stared at Blaise and shook his head. “I’d rather the Aurors stop whoever is trying to
control me than have a few cheap laughs.”

“Fair enough,” Blaise replied with a shrug and went back to eating his scrambled eggs on
toast.

It was a Friday so they only had double potions that morning and the afternoon off. Ever
since Harry, Neville and Millicent had been forced together through Ron and Hermione’s
actions they had stayed partners in Potions. They worked well together and both Neville and
Millicent were quiet and hard-working and that suited Harry just fine.

Snape kept glaring at Harry throughout the class, so much so that Neville noticed.

“What did you do to piss him off?” Neville whispered while he shredded seaweed.

“I was out past midnight last night and Snape caught me getting back. I’ve got detention with
him tonight,” Harry whispered back.

Neville gaped at him and then swallowed audibly, looking as if Harry had just announced he
was diagnosed with a terminal disease. Millicent shook her head at Neville’s antics and said,
“Be glad that’s all the detention you got, Harry. Pansy’s cousin once got a week’s worth of
detention when Snape caught her and her Ravenclaw boyfriend in a supply closet past
curfew. They had to help the gamekeeper clean out the hippogriff stables every evening for
seven days.”

“Yeah, that does sound worse,” Neville agreed. “Still, good luck, mate.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, more than a little amused, but also grateful at least Snape wasn’t
making him shovel hippogriff shit.

As it turned out, Snape had him disembowel salamanders. A whole vat of them. Harry spent
the afternoon in the library with his friends finishing up their homework, as they did every
Friday, and after dinner and the Slytherin house meeting, Snape waited for him with a sinister
smile on his face.

“With me, Potter,” Snape said and stalked out of the common room, Harry on his heels.

Once inside the classroom, Snape pointed at the vat of salamanders and the knife laying on
one of the desks. “Disembowel those, Potter. You will not leave this classroom until they are
all done.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, remembering his private vow to not piss Snape off if he could help it
and to always be polite to him. So he refrained from saying anything else and simply got to
work. Disembowelling anything was disgusting but fairly simple to do, so Harry let his mind
wander into an almost meditative state while his hands did the work automatically.
Snape, in the meantime, sat behind his desk with a stack of essays, a quill and a big bottle of
red ink. He glanced at Harry from time to time, but otherwise focused on his own work.

It wasn’t until Harry was about three-quarters done with his vat of salamanders that Snape
put down his quill and leaned back in his chair. He stared at Harry who slowly came out of
his meditative trance when he all but felt Snape’s gaze on him. Harry tried not to let show
how much that unnerved him, to be the focus of Severus Snape’s attention like that. Harry
was well aware there were two people in Hogwarts who stood a fair chance of discovering
Harry’s secrets. One was Dumbledore and the other was observing Harry as though he’d
never seen anything as fascinating before in his life.

“Are you familiar with the term muscle memory, Potter?” Snape finally asked as he shifted in
his seat as though he was trying to make himself more comfortable as he got ready for a bit
of pleasant conversation.

Harry was. During his fifth year, while teaching the DA, Hermione had mentioned it while
explaining to everyone why repetition was so important when several members had
complained about doing the same spells over and over again. “I can’t say I am, Sir,” Harry
said with a faint shrug as he kept working.

“Muscle memory is the ability to reproduce a particular movement without conscious

thought,” Snape drawled while gesturing at Harry with his hand. “One acquires muscle
memory as a result of frequent repetitions. Which begs the question, Potter, where did you
learn to disembowel amphibians before today that you can now do it without thinking?”

Harry kept his face blank while his mind raced a mile a minute. Holy fuck. How was he
supposed to explain this? “I don’t know, Sir,” he finally said, remembering Slytherin’s credo
of ‘deny everything, always’. “But I’ve been cooking meals for my family for years. That’s
given me all sorts of skills with a knife, I suppose.”

“Hm.” Snape’s lips curled up in a smirk. “And has cooking Muggle meals also given you the
experience you have on a broom, Potter?” Snape sat up a little straighter, leaning towards
Harry ever so much as he narrowed his eyes. “You see, I was under the impression that you
grew up completely in the Muggle world, unaware of your magical heritage until you
received your Hogwarts letter. Yet that Wronski Feint you showed us makes me question
your Muggle background. Which begs the question... why are you lying about it?” Snape’s
smirk became downright predatory. “What are you hiding?”

Buggering fucking fuck. Harry had to clamp his jaws together to keep himself from
swallowing nervously. This is what he got for showing off, wasn’t it? He just had to get his
way and play Quidditch as a first year or else he might get too bored or something and now
Snape knew something was up and Harry had no idea how to explain this. His mind was
drawing a complete blank as his heart raced in his chest and his mouth instantly became dry.
How could he explain away his Quidditch skills when he was supposed to be an eleven-year-
old Muggle-raised child.

Fucking hell. How to explain this? He had practice. Sometime during last summer he learned
how to fly a broom. Someone showed him how to fly and they discovered his talents on a
broom.
Yes. That could work. But who did he know who could have done that and who would go
along with the story should he be questioned?

“My friend Barty showed me how to fly a broom this summer, Sir,” Harry said as evenly as
he could. He stopped disembowelling for a moment when he noticed his hands trembling.
“He discovered my talent and showed me some moves. He encouraged me to join the team.”

“Barty who?” Snape demanded, lips curling up in disdain.

“Bartholomew Crouch.”

“Crouch?” Snape’s eyes widened ever so much. Harry had to remind himself that no one,
aside from Tom, Wormtail and himself knew Barty Crouch Jr was still alive. Everyone
assumed he’d died in Azkaban almost a decade ago, so Snape would not immediately suspect
it was him.

“Yeah, Barty’s related to that Ministry Head who died this summer. That’s why he was in the
country, to settle the affairs of his second cousin or something.” Harry shrugged, some of the
tension slowly leaving his body now that he’d found a working story.

“And how did you meet this Barty Crouch?” Snape asked, black eyes narrowed to slits.

“Bumped into him at the Quidditch store,” Harry said with a cheeky grin, warming up to the
story he was fabricating. “My aunt let me roam around there for half an hour or so after she
got tired of hearing me whine about wanting to fly. Barty offered to let me fly his broom,”
Harry finished with a shrug.

“And you actually went with the first stranger who offered to let you ride his broom, you
imbecilic child?” Snape snarled while he slammed his hand down on his desk in sheer rage.
“You could have been killed or worse.”

“My aunt said it was fine,” Harry said, a little taken aback by Snape’s sudden anger.

“Your aunt starved you while she kept you in a cupboard. She’s not exactly an example to
follow when it comes to your care, Potter.” Snape dragged a trembling hand down his face
and suddenly looked exhausted.

“Look, nothing happened. Barty’s a good guy who’s become a good friend,” Harry said
honestly. He remembered the half-squashed salamander in his hand and went on with his
work. “He taught me how to fly and recommended a lot of interesting books.” Harry decided
to ramble on about his favourite subject as a way to hopefully distract Snape away from this
topic altogether. “He told me to get some beginner Runes books and they are amazing. And
Daphne’s mother is a Runes Mistress and she gave me even more titles to read. I cannot wait
until third year when we can actually take Runes. It seems a bit unfair, though, that we have
to wait this long to take it. Why can’t we learn Runes in our first year, Professor?”

“Potter,” Snape said with a tired sigh. “Do shut up.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir,” Harry said with small smile he quickly hid by biting the inside of his
cheek. Mission accomplished. Snape went back to his essays, shooting Harry occasional
disgusted looks that were a clear commentary on Harry’s diminished intelligence, but Harry
happily ignored those while he finished his work as quickly as he could. He needed to get out
of there to get his story straight with Barty and Tom. He hadn’t meant to give up Barty’s
existence so early on but it had been all he could think of with Snape breathing down his
neck like that.

“I’m done, Sir,” Harry said some twenty minutes later.

Snape rose up from his chair and moved towards Harry. He inspected the disembowelled
salamanders with a sneer. “Barely adequate. Next time I catch you out after curfew it will be
a week of disembowelling small creatures, just so you know, Potter. Dismissed.”

“Good night, Sir,” Harry said and left the classroom without a backwards glance. He all but
ran back to his dormitory.

“That bad, huh?” Theo asked from where he was sitting on the floor playing exploding snap
with Blaise. Both were already wearing pyjamas.

“Ugh,” Harry said as he inspected his hands and underarms, all covered in blood and guts. “I
had to gut a vat full of salamanders. I need a shower right now.”

“Yes, you do,” Blaise agreed with a wrinkle of his nose.

Harry showered until the skin of his hands was a vivid pink and wrinkled. Meanwhile he
focussed on his breathing to calm down now that the adrenaline slowly left his body, leaving
him shaky and tired. Once dried off and in his own pyjamas, he begged off a game of cards
with Theo and Blaise, saying he was too tired which wasn’t too far from the truth. He was
tired, but he couldn’t rest before he talked to Barty.

Except Barty wasn’t answering his mirror when Harry tried to call him after he’d applied a
copious amount of privacy charms on his curtains. And then Harry remembered that Barty
was travelling to Lebanon today, so he called Tom instead.

When Tom answered his mirror and Harry saw a handsome, human face with brown eyes, he
was taken aback for a second. For months he’d talked to a small, slightly wrinkled and drawn
face with red eyes and he’d gotten so used to that, apparently, that seeing Tom whole again
took some getting used to.

“Hi,” Harry said, a little breathlessly.

“Good evening, Harry,” Tom said with a quirked smile. “Did you sleep well?”

At once Harry remembered the shared dreams and the amazing feeling of completeness and
his cheeks heated up until Harry was sure he was as red as a tomato. “Yes, I did, thank you
for asking, but you won’t believe what Snape did!”

“Oh dear,” Tom said, more than a little amused. “What did Severus do this time?”
“He caught me sneaking back in yesterday and gave me detention, which is fine. But then he
interrogates me, which isn’t fine at all,” Harry said in a single breath and then he had to pause
to breathe in and out a few times. “And he’s talking about muscle memory as he’s having me
disembowel salamanders and then he’s all suspiciously asking where I learned the Wronski
Feint and stuff so I had to come up with a story quickly, so I said I’d bumped into Barty this
summer, and that he was in the country because his second cousin had died or something and
that Barty was the one to teach me how to fly.”

“That’s not a bad story,” Tom said with a little tilt of his head. “I’d been meaning to propose
we come up with such a story anyway in case anyone discovers our association.”

“Huh?” Harry wasn’t sure what Tom was saying or not. He suspected his brain may have
turned into salamander guts sometime during the evening.

“Think about it,” Tom continued, ignoring Harry’s confused expression. “We’re friends, we
communicate regularly, and no matter how well we keep our association a secret, sooner or
later someone will find out. They always do. So I’d already come to the conclusion we need a
cover story and this one works.”

“I met Barty and through Barty I was introduced to you sometime this summer?” Harry
guessed, his brain slowly making a come-back as he finally got what Tom was saying. “And
we hit it off and kept in touch?”

“Exactly,” Tom said with a warm smile. “Barty and I have decided to start a business
together, both as a cover and to give us a legitimate source of income.”

“What kind of business?” Harry asked, at once burning with curiosity.

“Gaunt and Crouch Warding and Curse-breaking,” Tom said with obvious pride. “I’m well-
versed in both subjects, and Barty will apprentice under me until he’s completely caught up,
which shouldn’t be long. He’s already got a very good understanding of Arithmancy and
Runes, and he was well on his way to becoming a Ward Master before his arrest.”

“That’s awesome,” Harry said, genuinely happy Tom and Barty’s plans were coming
together.

“Once I’ve brought Lucius and Theodorus up to speed they can recommend our services to
their vast social circles, which in turn will give Barty and myself access to plenty of rich and
influential witches and wizards and will allow us to cultivate legitimate connections.”

“Yeah, who’s Slughorn now?” Harry said, feeling more than a little vindicated.

Tom snorted. “I’m merely a Slytherin.”

“Yeah, yeah, soulmate, you don’t fool me.” Harry batted his eyelids at Tom. “Just remember
to invite me to your soirees.”

Tom choose to ignore Harry’s childish antics with an eye-roll and got back to the topic at
hand. “So you see, my dear, you needn’t worry about Severus and his meddling. You simply
met Barty by chance and later me through my business partner.” Tom gave an elegant shrug.
“I’ll give you more of our backstory as I get confirmation from several sources. Don’t go
announcing our connection just yet, but in case you need to do some explaining, you now
can.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a relieved smile. The hunted feeling that had been plaguing him
ever since Snape’s impromptu interrogation finally left him completely and Harry was
beyond grateful this crisis seemed to be averted. “When are you and Barty going public?”

“We won’t be back from Lebanon until Sunday at least, and then there are a few more affairs
to settle, so by the end of next week is my guess,” Tom said, and it took Harry a few seconds
to catch on to what he’d actually said.

“You’re both in Lebanon?” Harry asked, his eyebrows rising higher and higher. “Wait, are
you going to change your face like Barty is?” Harry suddenly felt desperate to stop Tom. He
couldn’t change his face. Harry wasn’t sure why, but he just couldn’t.

“Yes, if I’m to be my own son, I’ll need to change my face,” Tom said matter-of-factly.

“No,” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. “Please don’t.”
 Chapter 18
Chapter Summary

Harry has a conversation with his soulmate and plays Quidditch. Spoiler: one of these
things does not end well.

Tom’s expression was stuck somewhere between delight and bewilderment. “Harry? What
are you saying exactly?”

“It’s just...” Harry trailed off, mind going in circles as the only thing he could come up with
to say was that he liked the way Tom looked and he didn’t want Tom to look differently, but
he sure as hell couldn’t tell the man that. “It’s just...you’ve only just got your face back,
right?” Harry finally rambled, struggling to find the right words. “So you shouldn’t have to
look different.”

“I’m not going to look that differently,” Tom assured him. “It’s just going to be a few small
changes. Hair and eye colour, the shape of my jaw, that sort of thing. I’ll still look like me,
just with a few small differences.” Tom looked at Harry intently, yet his smile was gentle. “I
can’t look exactly the same if I’m to be my own son.”

“Ah.” Harry swallowed against his suddenly dry mouth. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He tried
to smile back but his heart wasn’t in it.

“It’ll be fine, I promise. You’ll see tomorrow evening.” Tom and his stupid, handsome face
observed Harry for a few moments as though Harry knew a secret Tom desperately wanted to
find out. “Didn’t you have your first Quidditch game tomorrow, my dear?”

Harry recognized a distraction when he heard one, but he went along with it since he was in
need of a change in topics if his warm cheeks were any indication. “Yep, Terence Higgs is
going to have a very convenient case of explosive diarrhoea right before the game so I can
step in to save the day. He’s brewed the triple strength laxative potion himself. Said it was
great practice for his Potions NEWT, to adjust the recipe to strengthen the brew. Without you
there to curse my broom I expect it to be a boring game, though.”

Tom looked so incredibly fond while Harry babbled that it threw Harry off a little, so he
desperately tried to think of a new subject. There was always the shared dreams...but no,
Harry was not ready to bring that up. Just when the silence between them was getting a little
awkward, Harry remembered something that happened during the Halloween feast.

“Hey! I almost forgot,” Harry said as he sat up a little. “What was that about Quirrell
breaking that Defence curse?”
Tom laughed, eyes closed and head thrown back, and yet again seeing him this human took
Harry’s breath away. What was that, and why did it keep happening every time he looked at
the man?

“You told me Quirrell was a good enough teacher,” Tom finally said as he caught his breath.
“That curse needed to go and I figured Quirrell had deserved a reward, so he gets to take the
credit for breaking the curse while keeping a job he enjoys. Meanwhile I have a spy in the
castle that’s a little more trustworthy than dear Severus.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a brief nod. “Quirrell’s fine as a teacher. Not the best I’ve had, but
certainly not the worst.” Then Harry realized something and his face split open with a huge
grin. “And that means we won’t have Lockhart next year. Thank fuck! Seriously, you have no
idea how happy that makes me.”

Tom was back to looking impossibly fond. “I have some idea, I believe.”

“Oh, and if you want to make more of a name for yourself, you could always expose
Lockhart as the fraud he is,” Harry rambled on, on a roll now that he realized Lockhart
needed taking down and him accidentally obliviating himself on the way to the Chamber of
Secrets was off the table. “Lockhart is ridiculously popular still, and exposing him would put
your name on everyone’s map for sure.”

“Interesting,” Tom mused with a little frown as he bit his lip. Harry couldn’t look away for
some reason. “Could you write down everything you know about that fraud and send it to
me? I’m sure Barty wouldn’t mind helping to set a little trap using Ravenclaw’s diadem.”

“Sure, I’ll send it off after the game tomorrow.” Harry felt better now that the weird subjects
were over and done with. “Lockhart will not be able to resist that trap if you let the rumour
out you’ve found Ravenclaw’s diadem. He’ll want to take all the credit for that himself and
he’ll try to obliviate you both.”

“Exactly,” Tom said with a smirk that matched Harry’s. “Too bad Barty and myself will be
wearing shield charms specifically designed to block memory charms.”

“And then all you have to do is present your memories of the confrontation to the Aurors and
Lockhart is done for.” Harry leaned back against his pillow, feeling deeply satisfied about this
plot even though it hardly involved him. He was just genuinely looking forward to seeing
Lockhart exposed. That fraud had hurt enough people and he’d always given Harry very
creepy vibes. Who knew what else he’d gotten up to with his memory charms at the ready
aside from claiming other people’s heroics. Harry didn’t want to imagine because whatever
his mind came up with freaked him out.

“I do owe you an apology, my dear,” Tom said, and the sudden change of topic snapped
Harry out of his brief state of euphoria at the thought of Lockhart’s incoming exposure. “I
wasn’t Occluding last night and I inadvertently pulled you into my mind while you were
sleeping.”

“Er..” Harry swallowed and plucked at his pyjama shirt with nervous fingers. “That’s fine. It
was fine. It felt fine.”
Tom chuckled, nose wrinkled with clear amusement. “So what you’re saying is that you’re
fine with it?”

Harry glared at him, but that only made Tom grin in response. “Yes, Tom, it was fine. Much
better than the splitting headaches and visions of torture you used to send me.”

All the amusement slipped off Tom’s face at once and Harry suddenly felt bad even though
he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Sorry,” he blurted, yet he wasn’t sure what he was
apologizing for.

“No, Harry,” Tom said with a deep frown. “You do not apologize for my past actions. Not
ever.” Tom’s eyes looked pained. “There is nothing I can do to change my past. I can only go
forward and do better. Just know, my dear, that if I could go back to my youth like you have,
I would change everything. No horcruxes, no murder, no mayhem and no terrorizing our
society, and I would certainly leave you and your family be, ridiculous prophecy or not.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, oddly touched. So much so his eyes welled up a bit and he stared
down at his lap, desperately blinking away any tears before they could fall. This was the most
outspoken Tom had been about his past actions so far, and it filled Harry with a warm sort of
happiness that the former Dark Lord was able to voice his regrets. At least, Harry assumed
Tom was now a former Dark Lord. His future plans certainly indicated as much.

“Now, back to the topic at hand,” Tom said as he shifted in his seat. “Would you object to
experimenting with our connection?”

Harry looked up in surprise. “Experimenting how?” he asked, at once both hopeful and wary.
“Have more of those dreams together?” The last part was said with no small amount of desire
because Harry very much wanted to feel that complete again, that whole and close to the
other part of his soul.

“Yes,” Tom said with a firm nod. Maybe it was Harry’s imagination but he thought Tom
sounded particularly eager at the prospect of sharing dreams. Maybe Harry wasn’t the only
one who had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. “We can induce those dreams on purpose
and eventually try to project our consciousness at each other.”

“So we’d be able to talk in our dreams and stuff?” Harry guessed, more than a little interested
in trying that out.

“In theory, yes. We’ll have to practice, of course. If you’re up for it.” Tom gave Harry an
expectant look, eyebrows raised just a bit.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Harry said, doing his upmost to sound casual and not at all as eager
as he felt. He couldn’t help wanting that sense of completion back, but with that desire still
came a strong sense of embarrassment.

“Good. We’ll start tonight,” Tom said, looking terribly pleased. “And since you have a big
game tomorrow, I suggest you get a good night’s sleep.” Tom’s grin was slightly crooked and
he winked at Harry.
“Fine,” Harry said, still with all the forced casualness he could muster. “I’m going to sleep.
See you soon, soulmate.”

“Sweet dreams, my dear.” Tom closed his mirror and Harry let himself fall back against the
mattress.

Sleep, of course, did not come immediately, no matter how hard Harry tried. He resorted to
some meditative exercises for what felt like hours but was probably closer to twenty minutes
and then he slipped inside the other part of himself and it was like walking right into a loved
one’s embrace. Warm and safe and no longer alone.

Harry’s dream started out with riding along as Tom spent an hour reading a book on Egyptian
warding techniques in what Harry realized must be a hotel room. After that he took a hot bath
and Harry relaxed further into sleep as Tom sank into the warm water. Half an hour later Tom
slipped into bed and his mind joined Harry’s as sleep claimed him, too. They dreamed, side
by side yet wrapped around each other so tightly neither was sure where the other began.

Morning came too soon. Even though Harry was well rested physically, part of him wanted to
stay asleep wrapped around his other half for days, weeks, months. But a bigger part realized
such thoughts were silly and he had a life to live, starting that day with the Slytherin-
Gryffindor Quidditch match.

“Nervous?” Theo asked as he joined Harry in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Harry shook his head, mouth full of toothpaste. He’d played this match before and won. Then
he considered what might happen if he didn’t win the match because so many things were
different now. Just thinking about the undoubtedly smug expression on Malfoy’s face and his
endless gloating should Harry make a fool of himself today was enough to create a coil of
tension in Harry’s abdomen. He rinsed his mouth and amended his answer. “Maybe just a
little bit nervous.”

Theo grinned at him as he put his toothbrush away. “You’ll be fine. Flint wouldn’t let you
play if he didn’t think you could win.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry followed Theo out of the bathroom and got dressed. He almost
wanted to put on his Quidditch robes right away but remembered at the last moment he
wasn’t supposed to know yet he needed to play today so he settled for his wizarding leisure
wear of a pair of black trousers and white button-down shirt combined with a dark-blue
muggle jumper.

Draco was awake at that point and immediately let Harry know. “It must be tough,” Draco
mused as he slowly climbed out of bed. “Spending all this time training as a reserve player
yet never being allowed to play an actual game.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry said cheerfully. “But I’m sure you’ll let me know what that’s like
next year.”

Blaise snorted while Theo smirked, and they joined Harry for breakfast. Harry managed some
toast with strawberry jam and a cup of strong tea. He was pleasantly surprised to receive a
card from Barty halfway through his meal. It was delivered by a tiny scops owl with a red
ribbon around his leg that said ‘express mail’.

The card itself had writing on the front in Arabic script. Harry had no idea what it said but
judging by the cheering picture of the Lebanese national Quidditch team on the card it was a
good message. Inside Harry found a short message in Barty’s messy scrawl.

“Harry,

You got this! Catch that Snitch and win that game! Next time I’ll be there to cheer you on in
person and I’ll even drag Tom along.

Barty’

Harry smiled, feeling a little lighter knowing his closest friends were rooting for him even on
the other side of the world. He tucked the card away just as Marcus Flint marched up to him.

“Snape wants to see us,” Flint said, and Harry responded with a grave nod, meanwhile
thinking ‘showtime’.

“What? Why?” Draco demanded from across the table. Flint ignored him and Harry offered
Draco his smuggest smile before he hurried after Flint.

Snape stood in the entrance hall with the Slytherin Quidditch team around him, decked out in
their green and silver Quidditch uniforms and holding their brooms. McGonagall and the
Gryffindor team caught up with them just as Harry and Flint did.

“I regret to inform you our Seeker, Mr Higgs, has been dosed with an extra strength laxative
potion and is unable to play,” Snape told McGonagall. He then glared at the Weasley twins
and snapped, “Thirty points, each, from Gryffindor for trying to sabotage the opposite team.”

“Professor Snape,” McGonagall admonished him with a pinched look. “Have you any
evidence the Messrs Weasley were involved?”

“Do I need to remind you, Professor McGonagall, that I caught those two hellions red-handed
in my potions stores last year with all the ingredients for a laxative potion in their thieving
hands?” Snape all but whispered as he leaned closer to McGonagall.

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from grinning as he took in the scene before him. Fred and
George loudly denied their involvement, yet no one, not even their own Head of House
believed them. That was the price they paid for being known for their pranks and usually
very publicly claiming ownership of them no matter the point-loss or detention that followed.
Do it often enough and everyone automatically assumed you were guilty each and every time,
even when you were in fact innocent.

McGonagall glared at the twins. “I am appalled by your lack of sportsmanship. The loss of
points stands and I’m adding a week of detention with Mr Filch.” She turned back to Snape.
“Do we need to postpone the match or can Mr Higgs make the pitch in time?”
“Mr Higgs is out for the count, I’m afraid,” Snape said with the utmost regret, even going so
far as sadly shaking his head. Meanwhile, Fred and George were practically vibrating with
anger. If there were any Gryffindors who might figure out how Slytherins really worked it
would be those two. Harry was willing to bet gold the twins had figured out what was really
going on, but they were also clever enough to know no one would believe them at this point
and they would only lose more points if they said something about it.

Harry expected many bludgers aimed his way during the match.

“Thankfully, our reserve Seeker is ready to step up,” Snape continued, grabbing Harry’s arm
and yanking him closer. “Mr Potter, are you able to play?” His fingers tightened around
Harry’s arm in a silent warning that his answer had better be ‘yes’.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said, smiling up at McGonagall. “I’ve been practicing really hard and
I’ve got a broom and everything.”

McGonagall peered down at him with a dubious frown. “A first-year? Are you certain about
this, Severus? We could easily postpone the match.”

“There is no need for that,” Snape said quickly, taking a step back from McGonagall in an
obvious attempt to end the conversation. “Mr Potter will take Mr Higgs’ place and the match
will start promptly at eleven.” Snape shoved Harry in the direction of the dungeon stairs. “Mr
Potter, you’d best get changed in your Quidditch gear.”

Harry all but ran to his dorm, got changed in record time and then ran all the way to the
changing rooms under the stadium where he met up with the Slytherin team. Flint handed
him his broom.

“You had better catch that Snitch, Potter,” Flint told him with a growl in his voice.

“Yes, Captain,” Harry said in his most annoyingly childish tone. Flint narrowed his eyes but
ignored him as he started going over some formations he expected everyone to use.

As they finally made their way onto the pitch Harry had to admit it was a little strange to see
the players he’d had as teammates for years suddenly on the opposite team. Still, Quidditch
was Quidditch, no matter what colour uniform Harry was wearing, so he shrugged off any
weirdness and concentrated on the game.

Gryffindor had a fourth-year girl named Natasha Summers as the Seeker. Harry didn’t know
her, couldn’t even really remember her. She couldn’t be that good a Seeker, he reasoned, or
else she would have been on the team in his first life before Harry got roped into playing by
McGonagall, which she did because Gryffindor desperately needed a new Seeker.

No, Harry wasn’t too worried as he waited for Hooch to give the signal to start the game.

Lee Jordan gave the commentary as was expected. “Terence Higgs has fallen ill, reportedly
by accidentally ingesting a potion that made him –“

“Jordan, don’t you dare finish that sentence!” McGonagall all but snarled.
“Anyway,” Jordan continued with a wide grin. “Slytherin has replaced their Seeker with a
first-year, and what a first-year. Harry Potter himself is flying a Nimbus Two Thousand that
seems a few sizes too large for him, small thing that he is.”

“Jordan, comment on the game, not the size of the players!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Harry tuned the commentary out and circled the pitch, keeping the Gryffindor Seeker in his
sights out of the corner of his eye but mostly focusing on finding the Snitch as fast as he
could. Summers was also circling, though on opposite side of the pitch from him. Several
bludgers were pelted at Harry on purpose and without much use since Harry wasn’t even
actively participating in the game at this point. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin had scored a
few times each and Harry thought those bludgers would be much more effective when used
to disrupt the Chasers, but the twins disagreed.

Fred and George were angry and wanted everyone, but especially Harry, to know it.

Harry understood, he supposed. It was rather startling to realize just how underhanded
Slytherins could be and how utterly naive most Gryffindors, including the Head of House,
were about it. Harry himself hadn’t appreciated how sneaky Slytherins could really be until
he was a Slytherin himself. As a Gryffindor a lot of Slytherin plots had gone right over his
head, much to his current shame. Draco had managed to trick him and Ron with that
ridiculous duel at midnight plot, after all. Harry shook his head and concentrated on finding
the Snitch.

Gryffindor scored right before Harry saw a glimpse of gold near the grass in the middle of the
pitch. He quickly checked Summers’ position. She was on the opposite side, about as far
removed from the centre as he was but flying an older model Cleansweep. Harry smiled.
There was no way she could outfly his Nimbus. He had this.

Accelerating his broom to its maximum capacity, Harry shot right through the gameplay
below him, swerving around Adrian Pucey and Angelina Johnson, unintentionally making
her drop the Quaffle. Montague, flying just below her, deftly caught it and turned around at
once, heading to the Gryffindor goal posts. Harry sped past, aiming for the ground where the
Snitch was hovering. Summers had spotted the Snitch as well and was flying as fast as she
could, but it was clear to Harry that wasn’t fast enough.

A flash of orange appeared briefly in the corner of Harry’s eyes and he had to do a quick
barrel-roll to prevent a bludger from hitting him. The twins were there and seemed
determined to stop Harry from reaching the Snitch. Another bludger came soaring at Harry’s
head and this time he dipped down and up to avoid it. Harry stretched his arm out, turned his
broom just a smidge to prevent a head-on collision with Summers who was coming in fast
from the opposite direction, and he closed his fingers around the Snitch.

Pulling his broom up, Harry held the Snitch high above his head, grinning. The next thing he
knew was another flash of orange, a sickening crack, and darkness.
 Chapter 19
Chapter Summary

Harry watches as Tom calls in reinforcements.

It was a subtle kind of torture, Harry decided, to be able to ride along with Tom, but not to
feel him. Harry was trapped in a glass box, or so it felt. He saw through Tom’s eyes, but
couldn’t sense his soulmate and it was maddening, to be so close and not be complete.

Tom was having similar sentiments, if his pacing and snarling were any indication. They
were back in the reception room of Riddle Manor and Harry wondered how much time had
passed.

“Something happened,” Tom muttered as he paced around the room like a caged dragon.
Barty was sitting in a chair at the coffee table and Harry did a double take when he saw
Barty’s new face through Tom’s eyes.

Barty’s dirty-blond hair was now a rich, chestnut brown, his watery, blue eyes were a dark
grey, and even his normally pale skin had the slightest olive hue. The shape of his nose was
different, a little pointier instead of the blunt nose he’d had before, and his cheekbones were
higher and lips just a bit fuller. He still obviously looked related to the Crouches, but nothing
that would specifically remind one of Bartemius Crouch Jr. All in all, he looked good, and
Harry was disappointed he couldn’t tell him that.

“It’s been 24 hours. The kid probably fell off his broom and is sleeping it off in the hospital
wing,” Barty said, but his tone was unconvincing and he was wringing his hands in his lap.

“If he was sleeping I would feel him,” Tom snarled at Barty, who looked at him with wide
eyes. “And I cannot feel him. I haven’t felt him in twenty four hours. He might be dead for
all we know!” Tom kicked against a side table, sending it scattering across the floor. “That
blasted Quirrell is useless. He knows Harry is important to us yet he sends no news!”

“If Harry was dead it would be in the papers, I’m sure,” Barty said, but his tone suggested he
was trying to convince himself of this even more so than he was trying to convince Tom. “I’ll
try my mirror again.” Barty took his mirror out of his pocket and held it against his Dark
Mark to activate it. Harry knew it was useless since his own mirror was locked in his trunk
and Harry was stuck in Tom’s mind and in no position to answer it.

“We need someone on the ground at Hogwarts to protect Harry. He is far too important to
lose.” Tom stopped pacing and ran a tired hand across his face. “I’m going to call in
Severus.”
“My Lord?” Barty looked up at Tom in shock, fumbling with the mirror in his hands and
almost dropping it. “If you call Snape, he’ll tell Dumbledore immediately you’ve returned
before answering the summons. I thought we agreed it was of the utmost importance that the
old man never gets confirmation who Thomas Gaunt really is.”

Tom snarled at Barty. “I know, but Harry might be dying or dead! And I will not sit on my
arse and do nothing when there are people I can call in to take action.”

Barty pursed his lips, brow furrowed as he held up a finger. “If we send in Winky to tell
Snape he cannot let Dumbledore know before you call him it might work to keep it from the
old fool.”

Tom paused for a moment and turned to look at Barty. “Yes, that might work. Send Winky,
have her tell Severus that if he so much as breathes a word to Dumbledore about the
upcoming summoning his life will be forfeit and then I can call him without alerting the old
man. And once Severus is here, he’ll take an Unbreakable Vow or he dies.”

“That’ll work,” Barty said with a smile and he called Winky to give her instructions.
Meanwhile, Harry wanted to tell Tom there was no need to kill Snape, but of course he was
still trapped in this metaphorical glass box so he could only sit and watch. Winky popped
away and Tom resumed his pacing. No more than five minutes later, Winky popped back into
the room.

“Master Snape was being alone in his room, so Winky is giving him the warnings. You is
calling him now and Winky is staying with him to be watching his every move.” And with
that, Winky disappeared again.

Barty pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and offered the Dark Mark to Tom, who pulled out
his wand and pressed the tip against the mark. Barty winced a little, but it seemed to hurt a lot
less than Harry had seen from other Death Eaters in his previous life. Another five minutes
later, Winky walked into the room, Severus Snape on her heels, without mask or Death Eater
robes, as per Winky’s instructions.

“He is not telling anyone he is being called, Winky is making sure,” Winky said with a little
bow.

“Thanks, Winky,” Barty said with a warm smile.

“You is having guests, so Winky is making tea.” Winky popped away again, and Snape
briefly looked around the room, obviously wondering who Barty was. Then his eyes landed
on Tom and widened ever so much. Snape dropped to his knees, forehead pressed against the
floor.

Tom had no patience for Snape’s show of submission. “What happened to Harry?” he all but
yelled as he halted in front of Snape’s kneeling figure.

Snape looked up in confusion. “My Lord? Harry?”

“Harry Potter, who else? How many fucking Harries do you know, Severus?” Tom snapped
in Snape’s face as he bent over a little to glare at him. “What happened to him yesterday? Is
he all right? So help me Merlin, if he is dead I will tear Hogwarts apart brick by brick until I
find the culprit and then I will spent the rest of my existence torturing the fool who killed my
soulmate!”

The look of utter bewilderment on Snape’s face was hilarious. He obviously wasn’t expecting
a Voldemort announcing Harry was his soulmate, especially since such a thing didn’t really
exist. It was just a joke Harry had come up with to describe their unusual connection and
Tom ran with it to tease Harry right back.

But Snape wasn’t a first-rate spy for nothing, and he schooled his face into an agreeable mask
while looking calmly up at Tom. “Mr Potter was indeed injured during the Quidditch match
yesterday, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

“How badly was he injured?” Tom demanded and he straightened up and crossed his arms
tightly over his chest. “And who did it?”

Snape cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with ratting out the Weasley twins but
obviously trying to hide that sentiment. The old Voldemort would have doled out a cruciatus
curse at the least if he suspected Snape was uncomfortable telling the truth. Harry doubted
Tom would do the same, though. “Mr Potter has suffered a traumatic brain injury,” Snape
started saying and was immediately cut off by Tom.

“WHAT?” Tom whipped out his wand and pointed it straight at Snape’s face. “Who did this?
Tell me now!”

Snape nodded and spoke quickly. “Just as Mr Potter caught the snitch and won the game,
George Weasley hit a bludger against Mr Potter’s head from close range. Fred Weasley,
trying to hit the same bludger, missed and hit Mr Potter’s head with his bat instead.”

“Fucking hell,” Barty breathed while Tom actually took a step back and covered his mouth
with a trembling hand. Harry himself was equally shocked by the extent of his injuries and
also rather thankful he wasn’t awake to feel the kind of pain that undoubtedly accompanied
such an injury.

Snape nodded gravely. “Poppy Pomfrey called in a specialist from St Mungo’s and they are
keeping him unconscious with dreamless sleep potion while administering a regiment of
regenerative potions to help his brain heal. They are expecting him to make a full recovery,
but it might take up to a week.”

“Tell me, Severus,” Tom said slowly, carefully articulating each word. “That those two
attempted murderers were expelled at the least.”

Snape’s expression soured, his sneer full of disgust. Harry doubted it was fake. “The
headmaster, in all his infinite wisdom, thought a point-loss of twenty points each should
suffice as a punishment. Thankfully, the deputy headmistress has more sense and agreed to
suspend the Weasley twins from Quidditch for the rest of the year, plus she gave them a
month of detention. If it is any consolation, I do believe their actions were an accident and
they didn’t mean to cause such grievous injuries. Unfortunately, the headmaster has also
decreed that Mr Potter is not allowed to play Quidditch anymore, either, for the rest of the
year since it’s obvious first-years are not well-suited to play in matches, according to him.”

“What?” Barty gaped at Snape and shook his head. “Oh man, Harry’s going to hate that.”

Yes, Barty was absolutely right. Inside his glass box, Harry was quietly fuming at
Dumbledore’s latest petty act.

Snape nodded and then apparently couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. “I’m sorry, but I
don’t think we’ve been introduced before. Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts.”

“Bartholomew Crouch, pleased to meet you,” Barty replied with a huge grin.

Snape’s eyes widened, recognizing that name at once and he looked back up at Tom with fear
shining in his eyes, suddenly understanding that if Harry had spent time with this
Bartholomew Crouch, second cousin to the late Bartemius Crouch Sr, there was a chance he
had spent time with Voldemort as well.

“Come, Severus,” Tom said, sinking down in a leather chair beside Barty. “We have much to
discuss. Do sit down.” He waved at an empty chair opposite his own. Snape carefully, warily
got up and sat down with his back straight and knees pressed together. It was clear he wasn’t
used to being treated like an actual human being by the Dark Lord.

Winky popped into the room with a huge tea service on a silver tray. “You is needing yous
Earl Grey, Master Gaunt,” she said, quickly serving Tom a cup of tea. “You is worrying so
long for the little soulmate, you is needing to calm down.” She all but pushed a plate with a
slice of Battenberg cake on it into Tom’s hands. Then she served Barty and Snape and popped
out again.

Tom took a few sips of tea and inhaled a deep breath as he stared at Snape. “Severus, I am
about to tell you the truth, something which, besides myself, only Barty and Harry know. You
will take an Unbreakable Vow before leaving here, or I will kill you. Understood?”

Snape swallowed and clenched his fingers a little tighter around his cup of tea. “Yes, my
Lord.”

Tom nodded slowly and said with a measured voice, “The reason I’m telling you this is that
Harry needs a protector at Hogwarts. You are already sworn to keep him safe, aren’t you?”

Snape looked a little bit shocked, his eyes widening ever so much. “My Lord, I assure you –
“

“Cut the crap, Severus,” Tom interrupted him with a sharp gesture of his hand. “I am not the
Voldemort you think I am. I know for a fact you swore a vow to Dumbledore to keep Lily’s
child safe, after you went to the old man pleading for him to save your childhood friend. Not
her husband or her son, just her. The fact that you are sworn to protect Harry is the only
reason, aside from Harry’s request to keep you alive, that I won’t kill you for betraying me.”
Snape seemed unsure what to say to that and Harry could imagine there wasn’t much he
could say with Tom spelling his knowledge of Snape’s betrayal out like that. Snape finally
settled on giving a simple nod and sipping his tea.

Tom appeared fine with that limited response and leaned back in his chair. “I have Harry to
thank for my return to the land of the living,” Tom started explaining and Snape leaned
forward ever so much, obviously terribly curious what was really going on. Harry couldn’t
blame him. To Snape it must feel as if he’d landed himself in an alternate dimension
overnight. “Both Harry and myself have lived the next seven years already. Harry was sorted
into Gryffindor and the old man groomed him to be the perfect little sacrificial lamb.”

It was weird, Harry decided, to hear someone else tell his life-story like that. Snape seemed
riveted, hanging onto every word Tom said.

“Meanwhile, I made an unsuccessful attempt to get my body back in Harry’s first year, but
didn’t succeed until the end of Harry’s fourth year. Unfortunately, due to creating multiple
Horcruxes I was batshit insane, as Harry would say, and what followed was a few years of
murder and mayhem and utter destruction. To make a very long story short, Harry played the
part of the brave Gryffindor perfectly, fought me at every turn and eventually sacrificed his
own life because Dumbledore told him to.”

Tom inhaled a deep breath and sipped his tea. Snape quickly mirrored his actions to hide his
gobsmacked expression.

“When I murdered the Potters and my killing curse on Harry backfired, a piece of my soul
was torn off the main soul and attached itself to Harry. Dumbledore told Harry he could
destroy this horcrux by letting me hit him with a killing curse. Harry did so when he was
seventeen, through some fluke didn’t die, we duelled and through some other fluke my
killing curse backfired and hit me, and since I was mortal I died. I ended up in limbo with my
soul in pieces for all eternity. That is, until Harry joined me there a few months later.”

“He died months after defeating you?” Snape asked quietly, voice filled with disbelief.

Tom nodded. “Dumbledore lied. My soul piece that entered Harry merged with his own soul,
becoming a new soul altogether. Dumbledore knew this and posthumously sent a message to
the Ministry informing them Harry had to die if they wanted to keep me dead. Kingsley
Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, gave Harry a farce of a trial and chucked him
through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. However, quite accidentally Harry had
become the Master of Death and bargained with Death to return to the start of his first year
and to bring me along for the ride, this time with both my soul and thus my sanity intact.”

Silence stretched out between them while Snape stared down at his lap, clearly unsure
whether to believe any of what Tom had just told him.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it,” Barty said with an amused smile. “I know I wouldn’t have if
eleven-year-old Harry Potter hadn’t shown up on this doorstep last summer, called our Lord
his soulmate and invited himself over for tea and amicable conversation with his prophesized
enemy.”
Snape nodded slowly. “So he’s not really eleven?”

“Harry’s quite sure he was executed on his eighteenth birthday,” Tom said, finally starting on
his slice of cake with a big bite.

“That at least explains the muscle memory,” Snape muttered, more to himself. “And his
tendency to get spells right as fast as he does. Minerva and Filius have been waxing
poetically about him, the little cheat.”

Harry was terribly amused Snape didn’t even sound all that disapproving, just annoyed he
hadn’t figured any of this out by himself.

“This means, however, that Dumbledore still wants Harry dead,” Tom said with a pointed
look at Snape. “Not right away, not until Harry has served his purpose as a sacrificial lamb,
but if it’s up to Dumbledore, Harry won’t make it to adulthood.” Tom leaned forward in his
chair, pinning Snape in place with his glare. “You must understand, Severus, that not only do
I owe Harry my life, I owe him my sanity. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him alive
and safe.”

“I understand,” Snape whispered, sitting perfectly still while caught by Tom’s chilling
attention.

“Harry wants to stay at Hogwarts, wants a chance to do his life over without becoming
Dumbledore’s marionette. He needs someone there in case Dumbledore gets the wrong kind
of ideas about Harry’s life or safety,” Tom said and Harry wanted to yell at him that he was
fine and didn’t need a babysitter for fuck’s sake, but at the same time he was really touched
Tom seemed so concerned about his well-being. Harry had so rarely had people in his life
who truly wanted what was best for him that he appreciated it all the more from his soulmate.
“I want you to protect him, Severus. With your life if need be,” Tom finished, leaning back in
his chair.

“I will protect him,” Snape said decisively, nodding deeply. “But what of your other plans?
Do you require me to spy for you at all?”

“There will be no war this time,” Tom said with a sigh. “My new identity is that of my own
bastard son, and I plan to let only a select few know my real identity. Any changes I’ll make
to our society will be made through legal, conventional means. For the most part,” Tom said
with a slight smirk.

“I am relieved to hear that, my Lord,” Snape said with another nod. He seemed unsure how to
act exactly around this new and improved version of the Dark Lord. Barty definitely noticed
and chuckled.

“Chin up, Sev. You’re still alive even after you betrayed our Lord,” Barty said with a
challenge in his tone. Snape gave him a curious look, probably wondering why this virtual
stranger was addressing him with such familiarity.

Barty turned to look at Tom. “Well, at least we know my new look works.” He waved at
Snape. “I’m my own second cousin these days thanks to some permanent transfiguration.”
Snape stared at Barty in disbelief. “Bartemius Crouch Jr?” When Barty nodded, Snape
shifted in his seat, trying to look entirely unconcerned by this latest development. “Well, I see
the rumours of your death were greatly exaggerated.”

“My dying mother switched places with me in Azkaban,” Barty said, with the kind of forced
casualness that hid some real traumatic experiences. “Then my father kept me under the
imperius, imprisoned in my family home until our Lord came to free me.”

“And a few years earlier than last time,” Tom added with a fond smile at Barty before turning
his attention back to Snape. “You’ll also be interested to know Peter Pettigrew is still alive,
an active Death Eater and the real secret-keeper and betrayer of the Potters. Sirius Black is
innocent and Harry has plans to get him out of Azkaban, I believe.”

This time Snape couldn’t hide his shock and he put his teacup down with a slightly trembling
hand. “That is... unexpected.”

Barty snorted. “Out of everything, that is what upsets you?”

“You mustn’t blame dear Severus for that,” Tom said with a slight sarcastic drawl. “He gave
his heart to a woman who shunned him and married his childhood adversary. Naturally
anything to do with her would upset him.”

Harry was torn between hilarity and indignation. Tom dragging Snape about his unrequited
love for someone who dumped their friendship as a teenager was funny, but on the other
hand, that was his mum Tom was raking over the coals. Dammit, Tom.

“I know Harry told you Barty’s new identity. Did you mention it to Dumbledore yet?” Tom
asked while Snape had difficulty composing himself.

“Not yet, no,” Snape said, his expression still slightly pinched but most of his visible
annoyance carefully hidden again. “I planned to learn more about this new Barty Crouch
before giving the headmaster my report.”

“Good,” Tom said while getting up from his seat. “Make sure he doesn’t find out Harry
knows him. Now for your vows.”

Harry watched with interest as Tom and Snape clasped hands with Barty acting as their
binder. Tom made Snape swear to never betray him and to protect Harry at all cost. Harry
wanted to object, since he didn’t think he needed a protector of any sort and because the
consequences for breaking the vow was death. On the other hand, Snape did owe Harry’s
father a life-debt and it had transferred to Harry. This way Snape might be able to repay that
debt so it would stop subtly trying to influence Harry.

“I will summon you on occasion, Severus,” Tom said after the vows were done. “I will also
enchant a communication mirror for you and have Winky drop it off tomorrow. I expect you
to keep me updated on Harry’s condition. I want to hear about any change at once.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Snape said with a deep nod, looking none the worse for having just
signed his life away for Harry’s protection.
“Barty and myself will be making our first public appearance later this week. Play along with
the old man’s assumptions, but tell anyone else you doubt Voldemort would ever pretend to
be his own son. I want as many people as possible questioning Dumbledore’s conclusions.”
Tom sat down again, pouring himself more tea. “You are dismissed, Severus.”

Snape bowed deeply from the waist and left the reception room without further comment.
Harry figured the man had had enough shocks for one evening and needed a couple of glasses
of whiskey and some quiet time in his rooms to process it all.

“That went well,” Barty said cheerfully, though not without a hint of sarcasm.

“If Severus tries to betray me he dies,” Tom replied with a shrug. “Meanwhile he can look
after Harry since that boy seems to have a natural talent for getting into trouble.” Tom sipped
his tea and gave Barty a hard look. “Find out everything you can about Fred and George
Weasley. They will pay for what they’ve done. Dumbledore may believe they deserve
forgiveness, but I certainly don’t.”

“Consider it done,” Barty said with a look that promised severe retribution.

Harry yelled at them to stop, though of course it was no use since he was still stuck in a
metaphorical glass box. Harry’s feelings towards the twins were rather mixed these days.
Fred had nothing to do with the betrayal since he’d been dead when it happened. It did sting
that George hadn’t been there for Harry when the world turned its back on him, especially
seeing as Harry had given the twins his one thousand Galleons TriWizard Tournament prize
money that allowed them to start their very successful business. Then again, Fred had only
just died and George had taken his twins’ death hard. It was entirely possible George hadn’t
realized what had happened until after Harry’s execution. Hence Harry’s mixed feelings.

Still, if Tom dared to hurt the twins for what was in essence a Quidditch accident as per
Snape and his Legilimency skills, Harry was going to be having some very strong words with
his soulmate.
 Chapter 20
Chapter Summary

Harry and his soulmate share a dream, Harry wakes up and is reunited with his friends,
and Harry talks to his soulmate and judges his face.

Not long after Tom announced his plans for revenge on the Weasley twins, Harry slipped into
darkness. He wasn’t sure if he slept or if this was what a coma felt like. He woke up briefly
once to find Madam Pomfrey standing over him, waving her wand. His eyesight was fuzzy
but he could see her lips move. He just couldn’t hear a thing she said. Or hear anything for
that matter. Madam Pomfrey offered him a quick smile and poured a potion down his throat.
More darkness awaited him.

The next time he regained consciousness he was back inside the glass box and riding along
with Tom. This time, though, nothing exciting happened as Tom spent several hours doing
research on some potion that involved a lot of arithmancy that went way over Harry’s head.
Harry used that time to quietly reassure himself that yes, he was still alive, and Tom was still
his soulmate and even though the glass box prevented him from feeling Tom’s soul for
himself, it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually he’d wake up properly and feel his soulmate
again.

Harry woke up once more very briefly. This time Madam Pomfrey wasn’t alone, but a
middle-aged man in green St Mungo’s robes stood beside her. They were talking between
themselves, but it sounded like gibberish to Harry. Like they were speaking an entirely
foreign language he’d never heard before. He must have made some sound of distress,
because Madam Pomfrey placed her hand on his forehead while the healer gave him another
potion.

Sharing dreams wasn’t nearly as much fun when you couldn’t twine yourself around the other
part of your soul, Harry found out when he spent some time with Tom while he was asleep.
Tom’s dreams started out in the reception room of Riddle Manor with Tom and a dream-
Harry, looking to be seventeen years old or so, sitting opposite each other. They were talking
and laughing and Harry couldn’t look away from Tom’s expression, relaxed as it was with
affection and humour.

Dream-Harry got up and left, and Tom jumped up to chase after him. The moment he opened
the front door of Riddle Manor, Tom stepped into a scene from his past. Dream-Harry walked
on, never looking back no matter how loudly Tom yelled at him to stop as he ran through the
Chamber of Secrets, which turned into the obstacle course hidden below the third floor
corridor, which led to the graveyard where a snake-faced Voldemort shot spell after spell at
dream-Harry. Tom screamed and tried to reach for his own wand but it became clear he didn’t
have it. Dream-Harry ran and dodged the green flashes and made it to Riddle Manor which
wasn’t Riddle Manor at all, but Wool’s orphanage. Tom relentlessly pursued dream-Harry
through the empty, dilapidated corridors until dream-Harry found the door that led to the
court-yard, which was in fact the clearing in the forbidden forest where Harry had gone to
die.

Lord Voldemort stood surrounded by masked Death Eaters and dream-Harry stopped in front
of him as Harry himself had done in his previous life.

“Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived,” Voldemort said, just as Tom crashed the scene. Dream-
Harry stood perfectly still while Tom frantically looked from Voldemort to dream-Harry and
back.

No, stop!” Tom yelled, but it was too late. Voldemort spoke those dreaded words and a green
flash left his wand, heading straight for dream-Harry.

Only to be intercepted by Tom who threw himself in front of dream-Harry with a primal cry
of anguish.

Inside his glass box, Harry screamed and struggled against his invisible restraints. He’d just
seen Tom die, killed by his alter ego while trying to save Harry’s life, and Harry couldn’t take
it. Of all the people he’d lost, he refused to lose Tom. He wouldn’t allow it. He screamed and
struggled and demanded he be released from these bonds.

He screamed and struggled and pushed his sheets aside and fell out of his hospital bed.

“Mr Potter! Calm down.” Hands grabbed hold of Harry’s arms, but Harry pushed them away.
He had to find Tom. He had to make sure Tom was still alive. And if he wasn’t, if that dream
had been reality like Harry feared, then Harry had to find Death and bargain to have his
soulmate released again.

“Severus, help me!”

More hands, stronger ones, held onto him. “Mr Potter, calm down,” a deep voice spoke
directly into his ear. Harry became more aware of his surroundings as the adrenaline coursing
through his body slowly receded. A firm body pressed against Harry’s back while steel arms
kept him in place. “You are in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. You were injured in a
Quidditch match but have made a full recovery.”

“Tom,” Harry croaked, his throat dry and voice raspy.

“He is fine,” Snape whispered back. “I spoke to him just an hour ago.”

Harry’s body went limp out of exhaustion now that he came to realize it had been just a
dream. Tom’s dream, or nightmare would be a better description. And Harry had been pulled
along for the ride.

“Drink this, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as she pressed a vial against his lips, but Harry
turned his face away. He’d had enough dreamless sleep. He was not going back in the glass
box.
“It’s a calming draught,” Snape said, clearly possessing clairvoyant powers of some sort. “It
will not make you sleep again.”

Harry looked at Snape’s face over his shoulder as best he could and Snape seemed to be
telling the truth, so Harry opened his mouth and swallowed the potion that did indeed have
the slightly citrusy flavour of a calming draught. A warm sensation spread throughout his
body, lowering his heartrate and weighing down his arms and legs.

“Let’s get you back to bed, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said, and together with Snape she
manoeuvred him onto the bed. Harry let them and stretched out on the mattress while
Pomfrey pulled the sheet back over him. “You still need rest, but you’ll have to sleep on your
own from now on.”

Harry took that to mean he wouldn’t be dosed with more sleeping potions, which was a very
welcome change. He reasoned it was those sleeping potions that kept him in a glass box,
mentally, and unable to feel his soulmate and he hated that. What he needed was his mirror,
but that was locked in his trunk and his body was so heavy that Harry doubted he could
escape the Hospital Wing and sneak back inside his dormitory. He didn’t want to sleep even
when his eyelids grew heavy, because Tom had just woken up from a nightmare and Harry
doubted he’d go to sleep again so soon after that horrible dream, so Harry wouldn’t feel him,
wouldn’t get to spend time with him, so Harry refused to sleep...

Harry slept. If he dreamed, he didn’t remember it.

The next time he awoke, the sun seemed to be up for only a few hours and there were people
sitting around his bed.

“I think he’s awake,” Daphne said, which led to some murmuring and the scraping of chairs
around his bed.

“Mweugh,” Harry managed to say before his dry throat constricted and he coughed.

“Here,” Neville said, standing up from his seat. “Madam Pomfrey said you could have some
water when you woke up.” Neville pressed a glass against Harry’s lips and Harry drank
greedily, only realizing how parched he was once the water flowed down his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Theo asked, leaning closer towards the bed. Harry blinked a few
times and took in the kids gathered around his bed. His Slytherin friends and Neville.

“The Puffs wanted to visit as well,” Tracey explained, probably realizing Harry would
wonder where they were. “But Pomfrey would only let so many friends visit at once, so
they’ve got the afternoon shift.”

“You’re still alive, at least,” Blaise said, looking entirely unimpressed with Harry’s
predicament. “For a moment, out on the field, it looked like you weren’t.” Around him
Daphne and Theo shuddered, Tracey became very pale at the memory and Neville’s eyes
actually welled up a little.
Harry swallowed. Had he died? He knew he technically couldn’t unless he wanted to, thanks
to being the Master of Death, but Death hadn’t actually explained how this type of
immortality worked. So, it was possible that he’d kind of died out on the field, but his
immortality had kicked in at the last moment, pulling him through and keeping him in the
land of the living until his body could heal. And that’s probably also why it hadn’t worked
when he was executed in his previous life. They had chucked him through the veil, body and
all, so there was nothing left to keep him alive in. Harry decided this was something he
wanted to discuss with Tom at the first opportunity. In fact, he wanted to talk to Tom as soon
as possible, period, but now was not the time.

“I’m fine,” Harry mumbled, cleared his throat again, and accepted more water from Neville.
“Thanks,” he told his friend and Neville offered him a small, slightly tremulous smile.

“You’re fine now,” Theo said, shaking his head. “Thanks to magic and some very talented
healers. But you weren’t fine before.”

“Those Gryffindor monsters bloody well killed you,” Tracey all but growled. Her face lit up
with a frankly terrifying smile. “But Flint and the rest of the Quidditch team have not taken
this lying down, and the rest of our House follows their example. Gryffindor has been
bleeding for a week, everyone is making sure of it.”

“Was accident,” Harry managed to say, though it didn’t sound very convincing.

“What if it was an accident?” Daphne said with a stern look. “They just about killed you,
Harry, and accident or not, that deserves retribution.”

“Yeah,” Neville said, surprising Harry. “They seem remorseful, the twins that is, but there are
plenty of Gryffindors who thought what happened to you was exactly what a Slytherin
deserved.” Neville looked deeply disappointed in his own House.

“How long?” Harry managed to ask, since he had no idea what day it was or how long he’d
been asleep.

“It’s Sunday morning,” Blaise said, while Theo added, “You’ve been asleep for a solid
week.”

“They wouldn’t even let us visit until yesterday,” Daphne said, sounding deeply put upon.
“They would only let us send you cards.” She gestured to the table beside Harry’s bed. “Lots
of people did, evidently.”

Harry turned his head enough to see that indeed, many people had sent him cards, lots of
candy as well, even some flowers.

“The worst part is,” Theo said with a grave look as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on
his knees and hands clasped together. “That Dumbledore has forbidden you to play Quidditch
for the rest of the year. You’re not allowed back onto the pitch until next year.”

“That’s the worst part?” Daphne demanded, turning in her seat to glare at Theo. “Really?”
“Well, it is pretty disappointing,” Blaise agreed with a careless shrug. “Not to mention, Draco
has been unbearable ever since Dumbledore announced that during dinner last Sunday.”

“Ugh,” Harry managed to say. That was just what he needed. Draco Malfoy rubbing his
smugness all over Harry.

“Yeah,” Tracey said with a brief nod. “He’s not shut up about it.”

Harry’s eyes grew heavy again and the last thing he knew was Neville saying, “It’s all right,
Harry, just get some sleep. We’ll be here again this evening.”

When he woke up again, he was surrounded by Hufflepuffs.

“Harry!” Hannah said loudly, and then clapped a hand over her mouth while Susan shushed
her.

“Mate, it is so good to see you awake,” Justin said with the biggest smile Harry had ever seen
on his face. “I was convinced you were done for when those twins got you. Magic really is
amazing that it could heal you from such a horrible injury.”

“Welcome back,” Ernie said, patting Harry on the shoulder. “We missed you.”

“Hi,” Harry said with a sleepy smile.

“You’ve got chocolate pudding,” Hannah said, waving a small bowl in front of Harry’s face.

Susan snatched it from her hand and put it on the side table. “Madam Pomfrey dropped off
the pudding in case you wanted to try to eat something. But I bet you’ll want some water
first. Potions always make you thirsty, I find.” She poured him a glass of water when Harry
nodded and helped him drink.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered after he drained the glass. He pushed himself up a little, trying to
sit up, and only managed it after Susan helped him adjust the position of his pillow.

“The whole school is at war,” Ernie said dramatically, which earned him a snort from
Hannah.

“There’s no war,” Hannah said quickly, cutting Ernie off. “But Slytherin has been taking out
their anger on the Gryffindors.”

“The Puffs and the Claws are wisely staying out of it,” Susan said as she offered Harry the
bowl of chocolate pudding. “Here, try to eat something.”

Harry managed to eat a bite of pudding, feeling strangely light-headed as he was sitting up.
He suspected it was a result from healing his brain and he hoped it wouldn’t last very long.
One bite of pudding quickly became another and another and in no time Harry emptied the
dish.

“I was thinking I might learn Quidditch because I really enjoyed flying,” Justin said and then
shuddered while staring at his shoes. “But then I saw you get hurt and now I don’t think I
want to play that game. Ever.”

“It’s not so bad,” Harry started saying, offended on behalf of his favourite sport.

“Yeah, it was,” Ernie butted in with a pointed look at Harry. “I love Quidditch as much as the
next chap, but this was bad. Oliver Wood told Cedric Diggory it was the worst Quidditch
injury Hogwarts has seen for two hundred years. The last time someone got injured worse
than this was when a Ravenclaw Chaser crashed back in 1798. Her broomstick’s braking
charms failed, she flew straight into the ground, snapping her broomstick in half and
accidentally impaling herself. She had to have half her organs regrown, including her heart.
She barely made it out alive.”

“Yes, thank you, Ernie,” Susan said disapprovingly. “I’m sure that’s exactly what Harry
wants to hear right now.”

“The bloke just had his whole head regrown, more or less,” Hannah added with a bluntness
that made Harry grin. “Stop talking about Quidditch injuries.” She turned to Harry with an
expectant look. “So, did you feel anything during your coma?”

“No,” Harry said while Susan slapped Hannah on her arm in a reprimand. “It’s fine, Susan. I
don’t remember much. Some weird dreams. No pain, so that’s good.”

“As fascinating as it is to listen to Mr Potter recount his near-death experience to his little
friends, you are going to have to cut this meeting short,” Snape drawled as he all but popped
up behind the Hufflepuffs. Justin almost fell out of his chair in shock, while Ernie whipped
around and stared up with his mouth opened wide. “I need a few moments alone with my
student.”

“Of course, Professor,” Susan said politely, while Hannah was biting her lip, clearly tempted
to ask why but having enough common sense not to antagonize Snape. “We’ll visit again
soon, Harry.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said as he watched his friends leave, Hannah lagging just slightly,
craning her neck and looking over her shoulder until Susan grabbed her wrist and dragged
her along.

The moment they were alone, Snape pulled out his wand and with a flick closed the curtains
around Harry’s bed. “I’m trusting you have made a full recovery?”

“I think so, yes,” Harry said, frowning. Seeing Snape do magic reminded him he had no clue
where his own wand was. “My wand?”

Snape opened a drawer in the side table and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his holly
wand. He grabbed it and slid it under his pillow. When he looked back up at Snape, the man
was holding a very familiar silver mirror in his hand.

“How did you get that?” Harry asked, just a little annoyed. That mirror had been in his
locked and warded trunk. If Snape had broken his wards it would take him days setting them
back to rights again.
“A house-elf transported your whole trunk to our mutual associate, who cracked it in under
five minutes. Nonetheless, he seemed impressed with your wards and replaced them
himself.” Snape handed Harry the mirror, which he accepted gratefully. “Our mutual
associate insisted you receive this and call him the moment you woke up. I can give you five
minutes of privacy.” And with that, Snape slipped out between the curtains, leaving Harry to
stare at the mirror in his hands.

Tom had broken his wards on his trunk? And replaced them? And why the fuck was he
thinking about that while the clock was ticking and he could be talking to his soulmate. Harry
reached for his wand, cast a few privacy charms on top of the ones Snape had cast, and
whispered Tom’s name in parseltongue.

Tom answered within ten seconds, looking entirely relieved. “Harry.”

Harry stared. “Your face.”

“You don’t like it?” Tom asked, eyes widening while he bit his lip.

Harry continued staring. “No. I mean, yes. You look good.” And he did look good. Slightly
different, but good. His black, wavy hair was now a straight, dark-brown. His brown eyes had
become a deep, ocean-blue. His jaw was slightly more angular and there was a mole on his
left cheek that hadn’t been there before. Even his earlobes were different. They’d been
attached before and now they were free.

Tom looked different, yes, but still very much like Tom Riddle. Just a different variation of
him, like a son who looked a great deal like his father. Exactly what Tom was going for.

Harry finally managed a real smile. “Yeah, you look like your son, so you’re good.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Tom said, smiling brightly for a moment before his face slid into a
mask of concern. “But enough about me. Harry, soulmate, don’t you dare fucking die on me.
Especially not over some stupid game.”

Warmth burst throughout Harry’s chest as he listened to the worry in Tom’s voice. “I think I
did. Die, I mean.”

“What?” Tom asked quietly, eyes shining with fear.

“I think I died, but that my Master of Death immortality kicked in or something.”

“You don’t actually know for certain?” Tom asked in disbelief.

“Hey,” Harry said while he was stuck somewhere between amusement at Tom’s befuddled
expression and insulted at Tom’s obvious disdain for Harry’s ignorance. “It wasn’t like Death
gave me a brochure or something. I’m basically just winging this whole rebirth thing.”

“Merlin, spare me from Gryffindors and their inability to plan even a single thing,” Tom said
while pinching the bridge of his nose. “But anyway, let’s just be glad your immortality did
kick in and you’re still amongst the living.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, since he very much agreed with that sentiment. “Oh, just so you know, I
spent time in your head, while you called in Snape and sometime later when you were doing
some tricky arithmancy for a potion that made no sense to me.”

“Good, I’m glad it made no sense to you,” Tom said, leaning back in his chair while looking
down at Harry over his nose. “Because that was your Christmas present I was working on
and it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh,” Harry said, and at once his whole chest constricted with a sense of panic. He needed to
get Tom a Christmas present and he had no idea what to get the man. Still, not the time to let
that distract him just now. “What I don’t get is why you called in Snape when you have
Quirrell here to spy for you.”

“Quirrell isn’t marked,” Tom said with a sigh. “And he doesn’t know about us. All Quirrell
knows is that I want to keep you alive. So when you were injured and it was announced
you’d make a full recovery, Quirrell didn’t think this was news he needed to share. I’ve since
made him a communication mirror as well so I can contact him at a moment’s notice, not just
during pre-arranged meetings.”

“Okay, yeah, that makes sense,” Harry said, glad to know the answer since that had been
bothering him. He realized that the more he looked at Tom’s face, the more he started to like
it. “You really do look good,” he blurted, and felt his cheeks heat.

Tom’s eyes, newly blue and everything, crinkled with amusement.

Harry desperately needed a change of subject because he suspected he might be about to

make an utter fool of himself if he didn’t find something else to talk about. “You can’t hurt
the twins!”

Tom’s eyes, so full of humour just seconds ago, narrowed to cold slits. “I think you’ll find
that I can.”

“No, I mean, yes, you could hurt them, I’m sure you could, but you shouldn’t,” Harry
rambled, not even sure what he wanted to say exactly.

“Give me one reason why I should let those murdering bastards live,” Tom all but growled.

Harry’s mind drew a blank for a few terrifying moment until finally a thought popped up that
Harry could use. “Because in a few years they will start a successful business and if we invest
in that business we could make some good money.”

“They killed you!” Tom yelled, eyes wide and blazing with fury. “They killed you over some
stupid game and you think I would care about making money more than I care about your
life?”

“Er...” Harry bit his lip, unsure what he needed to do with that response. The friendship he
had with Tom was just so different than any other friendship he’d had before that Tom’s
words and actions were always throwing him for a loop and Harry had no idea how to go
about handling any of the weird feelings that came with it all.
“Mr Potter,” Snape’s voice sounded from behind the curtain. “Madam Pomfrey is on her way.
Best to end your conversation now.”

“No, wait,” Harry yelled, at Tom or Snape, or maybe both. “Tom, please,” he said, but still
couldn’t articulate what he actually meant to say.

“I will not stand by and do nothing while people kill you, Harry,” Tom said, expression one
of tightly controlled anger.

“You mean, like you did in your dream just this morning. You kept trying to kill me,” Harry
said in one breath as the memories of that horrible nightmare flooded his mind.

Tom’s face paled while his eyes widened. “What did you say?” he whispered with the kind of
deadly calm that preceded an outburst of rage.

“Now, Mr Potter,” Snape snarled while he ripped open the curtains. Harry quickly snapped
the mirror shut as Madam Pomfrey approached the bed, carrying a tray holding several
potions.
 Chapter 21
Chapter Summary

In which Barty does a very good impression of a couple's therapist, Harry and Tom have
a much needed talk, and Tom gets his revenge.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harry knew he’d screwed up with Tom. He kept replaying the conversation in his mind for
the next hour as Madam Pomfrey gave him a thorough examination. Snape had fled while he
could, leaving Harry at Pomfrey’s mercy. First she scrutinized his current physical health by
casting at least a dozen spells on him, and by making him do simple activities. Touch his
nose, raise his arms over his head, touch each fingertip with his thumb, stand on both legs,
stand on one leg. It went on and on and on, but at least Madam Pomfrey seemed pleased by
what she saw.

Harry was far less pleased because all he wanted to do was call Tom on his mirror and beg
his forgiveness. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, to suggest all Tom wanted to do in his
dream was kill him while Tom had thrown himself in front of a killing curse for Harry.

It was just that Harry got so flustered around Tom sometimes that he couldn’t figure out how
to say what he wanted to say and he ended up saying the completely wrong thing.

Harry hadn’t meant to piss Tom off.

And Tom was pissed off.

Harry knew because his scar was tingling. Just a bit, nothing like the migraines from hell
he’d suffered in his previous life whenever Voldemort was feeling particularly murderous,
but he still felt his scar burn ever so slightly.

Madam Pomfrey had him perform a few different tasks to determine his cognitive abilities.
Harry had to read a paragraph of a pamphlet on dragon pox out loud, he had to write down a
few sentences Madam Pomfrey read to him from the same pamphlet, and he had to draw a
tree, a house and a clock. Finally he had to solve a few simple sums. Add, subtract, multiply,
that sort of thing.

“Very good, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said to him as she was finally done. “You’ve made
a complete recovery. I’m keeping you here for one more day, but if you maintain your current
health you’ll be allowed back in classes by Tuesday.”
“Thanks,” Harry said as he sagged back in his pillows, exhausted from an hour of doing to
most basic things. He waited until Pomfrey left him and whispered Tom’s name in
parseltongue at the mirror he pulled out from under his pillow. The mirror lit up but Tom
never answered. Harry’s eyes grew heavy, his head falling against his pillow even when
Harry tried his best to keep it raised, mirror slipping from his fingers and falling against the
mattress. Harry fought his need for sleep as hard as he could, but sleep won in the end.

Harry woke up to the mirror heating up against his cheek while the hospital wing was dark
around him. He flipped the mirror open at once. “Tom?”

“No,” Barty said, glaring at Harry. “Good to see you alive, kid. Now what the hell did you
say to him to make him this upset?”

Inexplicably, Harry’s eyes welled up and a lump formed in his throat. Dammit. He would not
cry, not in front of Barty. “I messed up,” he whispered while desperately swallowing any sobs
back that wanted to escape.

“You don’t say,” Barty said, his expression softening just a bit at seeing Harry that obviously
upset.

Harry had the sense to pull out his wand and close his curtain with a flick and then cast every
privacy spell he knew before replying. “We shared a dream early this morning, where Tom
kept trying to catch up to a dream-me while Voldemort, the snakey version, kept trying to kill
me. In the end Tom threw himself in front of a killing curse to keep Voldemort from killing
me.”

“Well, that explains our Lord’s charming mood this morning,” Barty muttered, shaking his
head. “I’d expected him to be happy because you’d woken up but he was terribly moody over
breakfast.”

“Yeah, that dream was horrible,” Harry agreed and swallowed the last of the lump away.
Inhaling a deep breath, he was at least glad that odd sense of wanting to burst into tears was
receding. “When we talked this afternoon, Tom insisted on hurting or killing the Weasley
twins even when it was just an accident. He said something like that no one was allowed to
kill me without consequence, and then I reminded him he’d tried to kill me in a dream just
this morning. And then Pomfrey showed up and I had to end the call. I’ve been trying to call
him but he won’t answer.” Dammit, that stupid desire to cry was back and Harry bit his lip
and squeezed his eyes shut to make it go away.

“Ah, hell,” Barty sighed, giving Harry a look that was full of disappointment. “That was
below the belt, Harry. No wonder he’s been violently remodelling the cellar ever since your
talk.”

“I know,” Harry said miserably. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Are you sure?” Barty asked, and Harry looked at him with wide eyes. “Because it sounds to
me like you still blame our Lord for what he did to you in your previous life when he was
insane.”
“No!” Harry sat up a little, fingers clenching around his mirror. “Tom’s not that person
anymore, I know that. And I shouldn’t have said what I said, I know, but he shouldn’t want to
kill the Weasley twins for accidentally hurting me.”

Barty frowned and remained quiet for a few moments. “Snape gave us his memory of you
getting injured, at our Lord’s request. We watched it together. Those twins cracked your skull
clean open. The whole stadium could see your brain, Harry, and it was only thanks to Snape’s
very quick spell-work that your brain didn’t fall out of your head altogether.”

“Fuck,” Harry mumbled, touching his head with a trembling hand as if to make sure his skull
wasn’t cracked open anymore.

“Yeah, it was bad. Really bad.” Barty tilted his head and his gaze became a little more
challenging. “Now tell me honestly, Harry. What would you do if you had to watch Tom get
his skull cracked open by a pair of idiots who were trying to hurt him? Perhaps not kill him,
but definitely hurt him.”

Harry blinked, unsure what to say to that.

“Just imagine it for a moment. Tom lying on the ground, blood all around him, skull gaping
wide open while you get a perfect look at his brain.” Barty’s face had paled drastically but his
eyes were hard.

Harry swallowed against bile rising up. He felt sick just imagining that. “I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you cast a cruciatus curse on Bellatrix in retaliation once?” Barty reminded him.
Harry assumed Tom must have told him about that because Harry sure hadn’t.

“Yeah, after she killed Sirius,” Harry said quietly.

Barty smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly sight. It was full of vindication. “Exactly, kid. Bellatrix
killed someone you cared about and you tortured her in response.”

“The curse didn’t work,” Harry muttered, not at all happy with the direction this conversation
was taking.

“Doesn’t matter,” Barty said with a triumphant glint in his eyes. “You still cast it. Now
remember that those twins killed you, Harry. And you are the most important thing in the
world to our Lord. Are you telling me he’s really not allowed a little retribution, like you
tried to get after Bellatrix killed your godfather?”

Harry was speechless. He wanted to deny that whole fiasco after Sirius’ death, but he
couldn’t because he could well remember the rage burning hot throughout his entire body and
the need, the physical, overwhelming need to make Bellatrix hurt for what she did.

Was Tom feeling that need now? Was he feeling as overwhelmed by it as Harry had done that
time in the Ministry?

Harry imagined Tom getting hurt again and this time he could very well imagine lashing out
at whoever might hurt him. Hell, just this morning he’d completely lost it in a dream when
he’d seen Tom get hit by a killing curse.

What if someone like Snape would cast a killing curse at Tom? Just thinking that constricted
Harry’s throat while an inferno ignited in his chest. There wouldn’t be anything left of Snape
after Harry was done with him.

Oh.

Something of his epiphany must have shown on Harry’s face, because Barty let out a chuckle
while nodding at Harry.

“I see you finally understand,” Barty said with a nice touch of smugness.

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” Harry said, less than graceful about losing the argument, if there even
was an argument in the first place. “But I still don’t want him to kill them. They’re reckless
kids, not cold-blooded killers.”

Barty shrugged. “So negotiate. Make a bargain. But let our Lord have some retribution.
Nothing permanent, perhaps, but enough to satisfy his need to avenge you.”

“Fine.” Harry stared down at his lap. “I would do all that if he bloody well answered his
mirror.”

“I’ll talk to him. Keep calling him.” Barty offered Harry a huge smile. “I really am glad to
see you’re back in one piece. I’ll call again soon.” And with that, Barty clicked his mirror
shut.

Sighing, Harry sank back on the bed and checked the time. Just after nine in the evening.
Harry found a glass of pumpkin juice and a bowl of sliced fruit on his side-table and he
devoured them both, suddenly famished. He followed it up with a few Chocolate Frogs
someone had sent him after casting a few detection charms that came back clean. Then he
washed it down with a glass of water and managed the short walk to the bathroom for a much
needed emptying of his bladder.

Finally he was back under the sheets and he decided Barty had had enough time to convince
Tom to answer his bloody mirror.

Harry activated his mirror and waited. And waited some more. After a minute or two the
mirror deactivated automatically. Harry sighed and activated it again. And again.

It took at least ten tries, but finally Tom’s face appeared in his mirror.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry all but yelled, and quickly cast a few extra privacy charms around him,
just in case. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I know you dreamed about throwing yourself
in front of a killing curse for me and that drove me so mad it actually woke me up from my
coma. I can’t imagine how angry I’d be if I saw you get hurt for real. So I know you’re not
going to try to kill me now, that you’d much sooner try to save me, and I’m sorry for being a
complete idiot, I really am.”
Tom’s expression, which had started out carefully blank but with an underlying sheen of
anger, morphed gradually into first amusement and then exasperation.

“Harry,” Tom said when Harry got ready to add even more to his incoherent, rambling
apology. “Harry, it’s fine. Apology accepted.”

“Really?” Harry released a woosh of air that came all the way from his toes as he fell back
against his bed in utter relief. “I’m really sorry. Really, really sorry.”

Tom chuckled. “I can tell. It was some miscommunication that got cut off before it could get
resolved. We both reacted poorly.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed readily. “I could tell you were really angry.” To emphasize his point,
Harry touched a few fingers to his scar.

Tom’s eyes widened just a bit at that revelation. “You felt my anger? I am sorry for hurting
you, my dear. Barty has made it his mission to get me to control my anger. He even gave me
a book to help facilitate this.” Tom’s lips were pinched while he held up a book titled ‘Anger
Management for Dummies’.

Harry burst out in laughter, quickly pressing his face against his pillow to keep from waking
up half the castle with his cackles. Then he remembered he’d cast privacy charms and no one
would hear him so he turned back around and laughed in Tom’s face.

“Yes, it’s terribly amusing,” Tom said in a tone that was dryer than most deserts.

“It is really funny,” Harry insisted while he finally caught his breath.

“You wanted to bargain for your killers’ fates,” Tom said, calm as you please.

That snapped Harry out of his endless amusement and he pushed himself into an upright
position. “Yeah, I guess.” This time, Harry allowed himself a few moments to find the right
words to say. Thankfully, Tom waited patiently until he was ready to talk. “Look, what the
twins did was reckless and stupid, and I get that you want to make them pay, but in the end it
was an accident. So my suggestion is you curse them through the mail, something painful but
nothing permanent.”

“Hm.” Tom frowned while rubbing a few fingers over his chin. “I will accept your side of the
bargain, if you accept mine.”

“Which is?” Harry asked, intrigued.

“That you never give financial aid to any Weasley, or ever invest in any of their business
ventures. There are other ways to make a living, Harry, without financially supporting your
killers. Let them make their own way in life.” Tom looked at him with resolution written all
over his face.

“Huh.” Harry thought about that for a moment. It was actually a pretty good deal, and if
Harry was honest with himself, he didn’t mind not supporting any Weasleys, given their
betrayal of him, at least by a few of their members that Harry knew of for certain. In his
previous life he’d given the gold to Fred and George to be rid of it, tainted as it was with
Cedric’s blood, more so than as an investment. The twins had accepted it as a gift, and aside
from letting Harry have their merchandise for free had never paid him any earnings or shares.
This life Harry had briefly considered making a genuine investment in the twins’ future
business with owning a share of it and thus earning a percentage of their profits, but Harry
found that Tom was right. There were plenty of other ways to earn money and the twins
could find another way to start their business. While Harry understood that what they’d done
was an accident, he also felt they deserved some punishment for being so utterly reckless. If
Harry hadn’t had some form of immortality as the Master of Death, Fred and George most
likely would have killed him. Not giving them, or anyone in their family, money for any
reason was a light sentence, all things considered.

“That’s acceptable,” Harry said with a solemn nod. “You curse them but nothing permanent
and I never give any Weasley money.”

“It’s a deal,” Tom said with a smile that was all satisfaction. “I’ll send them a little something
in the mail tomorrow morning.”

“Do I even want to know?” Harry asked, curious despite his initial hesitation to let Tom have
his revenge.

“You’ll see tomorrow,” Tom said with a downright sinister smile. “Let’s just say it’s
something one might find in the darkest corner of the Black family library.”

“Well, the twins are fucked then.” Harry shook his head, his mind coming up with all sorts of
curses that wouldn’t cause permanent damage but would still royally fuck someone up for a
time.

“They cracked open your skull, my dear.” Tom’s nostrils flared while he pursed his lips. “I
saw your brain and that is one part of you I never wanted to see.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a sigh. “Barty told me you saw Snape’s memory. Though Pomfrey
gave me a thorough examination earlier and declared me completely recovered. I’ve got to
spend one more day here, just in case, but after that I’m allowed to go back to my classes.”

“That is good to hear.” Tom sipped a tea-glass, filled with something that was too light to be
Tom’s preferred brew of Earl Grey.

“What are you drinking?” Harry asked, unable to deny his curiosity.

“Camomile,” Tom said with an eye-roll. “Barty insists on giving me books to help me curb
my anger. Winky on the other hand has decreed I can only have camomile after eight to try to
help me control my temper.”

“Is it working?” Harry asked with a huge grin. He loved sassy house-elves. Which reminded
him. He needed to call Kreacher at the first opportunity to let him know he was all right. He
didn’t want the old elf to worry needlessly about him.
“It’s not turned me into a Hufflepuff so far,” Tom said with a sniff, and took another sip. “But
I do like the flavour.”

“What do you have against Hufflepuffs?” Harry demanded, though he was still grinning.
“Some of my friends are Hufflepuffs. They’re feisty.”

Tom snorted in sheer disbelief.

“They are,” Harry insisted. “I actually considered Hufflepuff as a House this time around.”

“Please,” Tom said with a deep chuckle, which made Harry’s stomach flip for some reason.
“You are even less of a Hufflepuff than you are a Ravenclaw. The Hat would never have gone
for that.”

“So according to you I only fit into two Houses? Gryffindor or Slytherin.”

“Yes.” Tom gestured with his glass of tea before taking another sip. “For me the Hat
considered Ravenclaw for a few moments before deciding my ambition outweighed my thirst
for knowledge.”

“I can see that. You’d make an excellent Ravenclaw.” Harry couldn’t help but let his mind
wander a bit and consider some possibilities. “If you had gotten a do-over, would you have
gone for Ravenclaw?”

Tom released a deep breath, brows furrowed while he stared off to the side. “I would have
started with not being such a little shit to Dumbledore when he came to deliver my letter, or
reveal my parseltongue to him. Then I would have indeed asked the Hat for Ravenclaw and
put all my effort into becoming a model student, perhaps making a few inventions, potions or
wards, while still at Hogwarts. And I would have threatened my father and his family to
provide for me, give me a share of their wealth and let me stay there so I wouldn’t be stuck in
London during the Blitz.”

Harry swallowed, hearing the longing in Tom’s voice to do better. Not to mention the regret
for how his life had actually turned out. He could well understand that yearning to do better,
to not make so many foolish mistakes. Harry himself had felt that as well when Death had
offered him a second chance. “I asked him,” Harry whispered, because he wanted Tom to
know this.

“Asked who what?” Tom replied quietly while he raised his eyebrows, perhaps puzzled by
Harry’s suddenly slightly choked voice.

“I asked Death to send me back even earlier, to your childhood. So I could get you out of that
fucking orphanage and raise you myself, make sure you had a home and someone kind to
rely on.”

Tom exhaled a shuddering breath while he slowly closed his eyes.

“But Death said that was unwise, to go back that far. It could break reality.” Harry shrugged
helplessly, still feeling a certain amount of regret for not being able to do better for Tom.
“Thank you,” Tom whispered. When he opened his eyes to look at Harry, they were rather
shiny. “For even considering it. I am almost seventy years old and it amazes me time and
time again that even after all these years that fucked up childhood I had still influences me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry agreed, thinking about his cupboard at the Dursleys’. “In my previous
life I was terrified anyone would find out how bad it was at my relatives’ house. Yet I wanted
to leave there more than almost anything. But when things got bad, during the war when we
were on the run, I often thought back on my cupboard and how safe it made me feel. Small
and cramped and dark though it might have been, it was my space and the only place I felt
safe when I grew up. I dreamed about it while living in that fucking tent.”

“The coal shed,” Tom said with a small but knowing smile. “They’d lock us in the coal shed
as punishment. At times I made sure to get caught so I could spend a day in the coal shed,
just to get away from all the other children and have some peace and quiet. To this day, I
occasionally dream about the bloody thing.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Barty got me some self-help books for
people raised in abusive homes. They’re pretty interesting and helpful.”

“Send them to me when you’re finished with them,” Tom said without a hint of shame. It
made Harry’s chest swell with pride that Tom, and himself for that matter, were able to talk
about their abusive pasts so openly. According to the books he’d read, being open about the
abuse you’d suffered was the first step to healing.

“And I’m afraid I’ve created a monster when it comes to Barty and his current predilection
for finding the answers to everything in Muggle books.” Tom picked up his anger
management book again and waved it at Harry.

“Ah yes, sending a Ravenclaw to a book store,” Harry said while narrowing his eyes at Tom
dramatically. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Tom shook his head though his smile was unmistakably fond. “You look tired, my dear. Get
some sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

The moment Tom said that, Harry became aware he was tired to the bone. His eyes were
heavy and his limbs loose. “Yeah, I need sleep. Good night, Tom. And I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Good night, Harry.” Tom offered him one last smile before clicking the
mirror shut. Harry managed to remember to cancel all the privacy charms around his bed, slid
his wand and mirror under his pillow and was asleep in a minute. He didn’t dream for the
longest time, or if he did he wasn’t aware of it, but at some point he did feel Tom’s soul slide
over his own, embracing him in their combined sleep. Harry was warm and whole and at
peace and spent the rest of the night feeling like that.

Harsh voices, interspersed with tortured screams woke Harry the next morning. He sat up in
bed at once, drawing his curtains back. Harry watched with his mouth hanging open slightly
as McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore levitated two screaming redheads into the hospital
wing.
 “Oh my goodness,” Pomfrey said as she rushed towards them, wand at the ready. “What
happened?” She quickly cast silencing charms over each twin so she could actually hear the
answer to her question.

“We believe they received cursed mail,” McGonagall said, lowering one twin onto a bed
opposite Harry’s. Snape positioned the other one of the bed beside it. Dumbledore stood
between the beds, waving his wand over one twin and then the other.

Pomfrey joined him and cast a number of spells rapidly. “They were cursed,” she said while
casting more spells. “A class 2 dark curse, though which one I couldn’t say.”

“A nightmare curse,” Dumbledore said gravely, tucking his wand up the sleeve of his light-
blue robes. “I’m afraid the Messrs Weasley are stuck in their worst nightmare for the
foreseeable future. There is no known cure. Unless you have some idea, Severus?”

Snape shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Dreamless sleep won’t help and the curses must run
their course.”

“How long will the curses last?” Pomfrey asked.

“That’s hard to say,” Snape replied while crossing his arms. “Depending on the strength of
the caster, they could last up to two weeks easily.”

“So supportive care and silencing charms until the curse dissolves,” Pomfrey concluded and
Snape nodded his agreement.

Dumbledore turned on his heels and looked right at Harry, who was still rubbing the sleep
from his eyes while he gaped at the scene in front of him. “Mr Potter, performing Dark Arts
can be reason for expulsion from Hogwarts.” Dumbledore walked slowly towards Harry’s
bed, looking down at him with sharp, judging eyes. “Who showed you such dark magic and
where were you last night?”

Harry stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. “Huh?”

Chapter End Notes

Your response to this story has been amazing and overwhelming and I am beyond
grateful for all the wonderful comments you're leaving me. I read every single one and
they help keep me motivated to write more and often. I do have only a limited amount of
time that I can spend on this story and lately it's been a choice between spending that
time writing the next chapter or replying to your comments. I know I prefer to write the
next chapter and I'm guessing you all feel the same. This is why I've not been able to
keep up with replying to you all, and I ask your forgiveness for that. I will try to catch
up the moment I have more time, but until I can I'll just keep writing more of the story
instead.
Thank you all for your many comments. They are so very much appreciated.
 Chapter 22
Chapter Summary

Harry spends a day in the hospital wing and has many visitors, some friendly and some
less so.

“Headmaster,” Snape said while Harry desperately tried to control his rising anger. That silly
book Barty had given Tom would come in handy right about now. “You cannot seriously
suggest a first-year student cursed the Messrs. Weasley with a class 2 dark curse.”

Dumbledore was the picture of a man full of regret to have to reach these conclusions. “Mr
Potter may not have cast the curse himself, but he could very well have asked an older
student to do it for him.”

“Albus,” Madam Pomfrey fumed, planting her fists on her hips as she glared at the
headmaster. “Mr Potter has not left the hospital wing. He’s barely left his bed to use the
bathroom. And the only visitors he’s had have been other first-years.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly while he gave the others a look that clearly communicated
he knew something they didn’t. “So it is merely a coincidence that the Messrs. Weasley are
cursed right after Mr Potter wakes up?”

“Yes,” McGonagall snapped, surprising Harry with the amount of venom in her voice.
“Anyone could have sent that curse. Since the letters were destroyed by some self-destruction
charm we have no physical evidence. Likely the curse came from outside of Hogwarts, from
some well-meaning witch or wizard deciding to avenge Mr Potter. Even though you’ve kept
it out of the Prophet, by now every student has written about it to their families and the whole
wizarding world has heard about it.”

McGonagall had no idea how close to the truth she got, but Harry had enough of the whole
argument. Dumbledore had zero proof Harry had anything to do with it because Harry hadn’t
cast it. He knew who did, but that was it. Harry briefly remembered he was trying to play the
part of a student still malleable to the headmaster’s manipulations, but his anger at these
unfounded accusations, merely because of Dumbledore’s prejudice against anything
Slytherin, overrode his common sense.

“I died!” Harry all but yelled at Dumbledore, who raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.
“Those boys cracked my skull open like an egg and I died.” Harry inhaled a deep breath and
continued, speaking quieter. “I saw my mum and dad. They told me it wasn’t my time yet and
that they were proud of me. Well, my dad seemed a bit shocked by me being in Slytherin but
my mum told me it didn’t matter at all.”
Snape swallowed audibly while McGonagall had a hand pressed over her mouth. Pomfrey
looked like she wanted to give him a hug.

“Mr Potter,” Dumbledore started, but Harry spoke right over what else Dumbledore wanted
to say.

“I didn’t curse those boys or had someone else do it on my behalf. But I wish I had!” Harry
glared at Dumbledore, despising the man more than he’d ever despised Voldemort. “They
killed me and they deserve punishment. I’d like to believe my life is worth more than twenty
points. Each. It’s no wonder no one in our House likes you.” And with that, Harry yanked the
curtains around his bed closed with a flick of his wand. He threw himself back against the
mattress, instantly regretting his outburst, but he couldn’t help it. Dumbledore and his
manipulations had gotten him killed in his previous life when Harry had done everything
Dumbledore wanted him to do, had been supportive of Dumbledore even in the face of
prosecution by the Ministry, and had loved the old headmaster like a mentor, a grandfather
even.

And all that time, Dumbledore had merely used him. He’d never cared for Harry. He
couldn’t, because Harry’s soul was intertwined with Tom Riddle’s, and Dumbledore had
loathed Tom Riddle since the moment he’d met him.

No one disturbed him further and Pomfrey all but kicked the others out of her infirmary,
muttering about patients needing rest.

At least Harry had the good sense to lie about meeting his parents, to present himself as the
young orphan who loved his dead family more than anything. That might make up for him
speaking his mind like he had. Yes, he could play his behaviour off as a traumatized child
who’d suffered a near-death experience and had seen his dead parents for the first time.
Hopefully Dumbledore would buy it. If not, perhaps the old man would share his thoughts
and plans with Snape, and Snape might share them with Harry to warn him. Snape had, after
all, sworn an Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry. If he got wind of any plans from
Dumbledore that involved Harry’s execution he’d surely let Harry know at once.

Harry just never wanted to get caught out unawares again like he had been in his previous life
when it came to Dumbledore and his plans for him.

Pomfrey woke him up about an hour later with a tray full of breakfast foods. Harry hadn’t
even realized he’d fallen asleep again. He was hungry, though, so he dug into a plate of eggs,
bacon and beans with gusto. After finishing his meal, Pomfrey urged him into the shower,
and Harry had to admit he felt like a new man once he was full, clean and dressed in fresh
pyjamas.

The next hour was spent going through the many cards and gifts he’d received. Harry
diligently used detection charms, even on mail that was already opened, but he didn’t find
any suspicious items. He recognized many of the student names that had sent him cards.
Some from opposite Quidditch teams he’d played against in his previous life and some from
the DA. Other names were a complete mystery to him and Harry suspected they were
probably from people not attending Hogwarts. In any case, he’d received a generous amount
of well wishes. And that was heartening for more than one reason, namely that aside from
knowing people cared about him, people didn’t care as much that he was a Slytherin. Harry
had been worried just a bit that the public might not appreciate a Boy Who Lived with a
green and silver tie but it looked like he worried for nothing.

An hour before lunch Marcus Flint stopped by.

“Potter, got your head back in one piece I see,” Flint said as he stood at the foot of Harry’s
bed with his arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a grin while patting his own head. “Turns out a brain works better
when it’s covered. Who knew?”

Flint snorted, his lips twitching with amusement ever so much. “You won us the game, Potter,
so you’re still on the team, no matter what the old man says. You’ll keep practicing with us
and next year you’ll replace Higgs.”

“Sounds good, Captain,” Harry said with a cheeky little salute.

Flint tilted his head slightly as if assessing Harry for a moment. “Call me Marcus.”

“Sure, Marcus. I’m Harry.”

“You get this week off, Harry, but I expect to see you at training next Monday,” Marcus said
with a significant look, as if daring Harry to disagree.

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.” As if Harry would let something as mildly inconvenient as a
lethal accident keep him from playing Quidditch.

Marcus looked over his shoulder at the beds holding the silently screaming Weasley twins.
Pomfrey had secured them to their bedframes with magical bonds earlier when they were
hurting themselves flailing their limbs about. “What happened to them?”

“A class 2 nightmare curse. No, I had nothing to do with it, but it is nice to look at.” Harry
shrugged while smiling sweetly. “It lifts my spirits.”

This time, Marcus laughed outright. “Good to see they’re being punished for real. We’ve
been making Gryffindor bleed, but those two are a pair of slippery eels that refused to be
trapped.”

“They’ve been well and truly caught,” Harry said with a snicker.

“That they have. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer pair of Gryffindors.” Marcus shook his
head in obvious amusement. “See you soon.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Harry said and waved at Marcus as he strolled out of the hospital
wing. Sagging back against his mattress, Harry briefly considered calling Tom or Barty on
his mirror, just to have a friend to talk to but ultimately decided against it. There was no
telling who might be visiting the hospital wing during the day and Harry did not want to risk
anyone discovering his connection to Bartholomew Crouch or Thomas Gaunt just yet.
And when less than half an hour later Mr and Mrs Weasley with Ginny in tow stormed inside
the hospital wing, Harry knew he’d made the right decision to keep his mirror hidden.

McGonagall was with them, leading the Weasleys to the beds holding the suffering twins.
Ginny was the one who spotted Harry first and instantly turned beet-red. Harry ran a hand
through his loose hair and sighed. He really did not want to see Ginny, even if she was just a
ten-year-old child at that moment and not his ex-girlfriend who had betrayed him.

Mrs Weasley wailed as she touched one twin and then the other over and over again while Mr
Weasley asked Madam Pomfrey about their prognosis. Harry was lying half propped up on
his pillows and watched the whole show quietly. It’s not like he had anything else to do, after
all. After about five minutes of wailing from Mrs Weasley and stupidly staring from Ginny,
Harry was finally spotted by Mr Weasley.

“My word, is that Harry Potter?” Mr Weasley said in wonderment as he looked at Harry, who
raised a single, almost challenging eyebrow in reply. Mr Weasley seemed to realize how
awkward it was for him to be fawning over the boy his sons had all but killed a week ago and
quickly cleared his throat while turning away from Harry.

“Harry Potter?” Mrs Weasley whipped around and the moment she saw him she stormed over
to his bed. “You cancel that curse right this minute, young man.”

Harry was speechless and blinked at Molly Weasley, who was glaring at him with all her
might.

“Molly,” McGonagall said, quickly stepping up to Mrs Weasley. “Mr Potter had nothing to do
with this curse.”

Mrs Weasley turned her formidable glare on McGonagall, who seemed entirely unfazed by it.
“Dumbledore said Mr Potter had gotten his revenge on my boys. Over a Quidditch accident.”

“The entire stadium saw my brain after your sons cracked my skull open,” Harry called out
towards the Weasleys. “Just in case you were unclear on what kind of ‘accident’ it was.”

“Well, you’re fine now,” Mrs Weasley snapped and then pressed a handkerchief against her
mouth as she looked over at the twins. “But my boys aren’t. Arthur, tell him to cancel the
curse.”

“I don’t think a first-year did this,” Mr Weasley said quietly, proving once and for all he was
the brains in that particular marriage. “Besides, Madam Pomfrey said they’ll be fine once the
curse wears out.”

“They’ll be good as new,” Pomfrey said with a kind smile.

Meanwhile, Harry observed his once surrogate family and felt very little. He’d been so
envious of Ron and his amazing family once upon a time. And to an attention-starved eleven-
year-old the Weasleys would have appeared as a wonderful family. Warm and chaotic and
caring.
But to an eighteen-year-old the Weasleys looked entirely different. An overbearing matriarch
who’d driven her two eldest sons out of the country with her unrelenting smothering and
unreasonable expectations. The third son had allied himself with the Ministry out of shame
for his family and Molly Weasley had never appreciated the talents of the twins. Not until
they’d managed to start a successful business. Mr Weasley lacked ambition to the point of
keeping his family in poverty instead of moving up in the Ministry’s ranks and thus earning a
better salary. They told the world it was because he loved Muggles so much, but Harry
privately thought it was because Arthur Weasley, while a kind man, utterly lacked drive and
magical talent.

And when Arthur and Molly found themselves temporarily caring for a boy who obviously
suffered abuse at home, they’d pretended they didn’t notice a thing and stood back year after
year while Harry was sent back to his abusers. Sure, the Weasleys had welcomed him into
their home for a week or two, but they had never really done anything to stop Harry from
going back to the Dursleys’ when they knew they barely fed him, dressed him in rags and
locked him in a room with bars over the windows.

The more Harry thought about it, the more he saw through the facade of a perfect, loving
family and realized the Weasleys were people, just like everybody else, and they had plenty
of flaws to prove it.

And nowadays, when Harry thought about what family meant to him, he thought about Tom
and Barty, and about Kreacher and Hedwig. And maybe, at some point, he might think about
Sirius.

The Weasleys had never been his family, no matter how much he’d wished for them to be
once upon a time, Harry knew that now. If they’d been his family, they would have fought
tooth and nail against Harry’s execution, no matter what anyone claimed about Harry needing
to die, instead of quietly standing aside while two Aurors dragged him to his death.

Yes, Harry felt very little as he watched Mrs Weasley bicker with McGonagall and cry over
her tortured sons while Mr Weasley patted her hand and told her everything was going to be
alright.

Lunch appeared on Harry’s side table, and he drew the curtains around his bed shut so he
could eat in peace without being gawked at by a flustered child version of his ex-girlfriend.
As he tucked into his Cornish pasty he could hear Ginny whine.

“Mum, Mum, Harry Potter closed his curtains, Mum, I want to see him, Mum.”

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I can’t hear you. I’m not an animal in a zoo for
you to stare at,” Harry called out, which earned him a mortified squeak from Ginny and a
grumbling about manners from Mrs Weasley. Harry went back to his excellent lunch.

After finishing his food, Harry closed his eyes for a well-deserved nap, and when he woke up
again some two hours later, the Weasleys were gone. Thank Merlin for small favours. Harry
hoped they would stay gone the rest of the day so Harry wouldn’t have to see them again
since he’d be out of there the next day.
Harry expected his friends to visit him right after their classes, but Millicent stopped by first.
Unfortunately she’d brought Draco along. Or, as Harry suspected the case to be, Draco had
invited himself along once he realized Millicent intended to visit her Potions partner in the
infirmary.

“Hi, Harry,” Millicent said with a shy smile. “I’m so glad to see you’ve recovered.”

“Yes, Harry,” Draco butted in as he sauntered up to Harry’s bed. “So glad to see you’re still
alive after you so publicly demonstrated why you shouldn’t be playing Quidditch.” Draco’s
smirk was as smug as Harry had ever seen it. “Some of us know how to handle a broom
while others just about lose their heads trying to fly.”

“Thank you, good to see you, too,” Harry said to Millicent, meanwhile rolling on his side as
if to get more comfortable, but in reality to stick his hand under his pillow and curl his
fingers around his wand. Harry had promised himself at the start of the year he would always
remember that these were just kids and that they were bound to say stupid things from time to
time and to let most of it just slide off him like water off a duck’s back.

For the most part, Harry had done just that. But now Harry was just done. Completely and
utterly done. And how Draco thought it was at all acceptable to react completely without
empathy when his roommate had been grievously injured was beyond Harry. It was time
Draco learned a lesson.

“As for you,” Harry said, looking a still smirking Draco dead in the eye. “If you’re going to
act like an ass, you might as well look like one.” And while keeping his wand hidden under
his pillow with only the very tip poking out, Harry silently transfigured Draco’s ears into a
pair of large, grey donkey ears. Then he finished it up with a little modifier that made the
transfiguration highly resistant against any kind of reversal magic until it had weakened
enough, which would take a week or so.

Millicent inhaled a sharp breath while she stared at Draco.

Raising a hand to his head, Draco released a incredulous shriek which slowly morphed into a
wail of despair and brought Madam Pomfrey running.

“What on earth is going on?” Pomfrey demanded as she took in a still wailing Draco who
was trying to pull his own ears off.

Harry bit his lip to seem contrite but in reality to keep himself from bursting out in laughter.
“I think I may have done that,” Harry said while giving Pomfrey his best miserable
expression. “Draco was saying mean things and I imagined him with donkey ears and
suddenly he had them.”

“Accidental magic,” Pomfrey concluded, waving her wand over Draco’s head. “Not
uncommon at your age, Mr Potter.”

“Fix me,” Draco demanded while visibly trying to hold back tears. “Get rid of these things.”
“Mr Potter’s accidental magic was quite strong, I’m afraid. Come back at the end of the week
and we’ll get it reversed,” Madam Pomfrey said, tucking her wand away. She didn’t seem at
all impressed by Draco’s superior attitude.

“What?” Draco gaped at Pomfrey, pulling on his donkey ears again. “I can’t keep these for
almost a week. I can’t walk around like this.”

“Of course you can,” Pomfrey said and turned on her heel, marching back to her office. Once
she was out of earshot, Harry finally let go and burst out laughing.

“You,” Draco said, almost shaking with humiliation and anger. “You did this, Harry. Fix me
now!”

“Not a chance,” Harry said, gasping for breath. “Not until you learn some empathy.” Harry
liked to think he wouldn’t take pleasure in hexing an eleven-year-old child. Harry was lying
to himself about that. Draco needed to learn a few lessons, spoiled little brat that he was.
Better he learn it now, through some fairly innocent yet humiliating transfiguration then later
should he ever accidentally piss off someone like Tom.

Not to mention, Draco looked hilarious with a pair of huge, fuzzy ears growing out of the
side of his head.

“You won’t get away with this,” Draco said, keeping his ridiculous ears pulled down as he
shuffled backwards out of the hospital wing. “I’m telling Professor Snape.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Harry said while he watched Draco leave, finally getting his breathing
back under control.

“How did you do that?” Millicent asked him in awe, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Ah, I cannot reveal my secrets,” Harry said with a waggle of his finger at Millicent. “But
you have to agree Draco had it coming.”

“Definitely,” Millicent said quickly. “He’s been insufferable for the whole week. It was only
a matter of time before someone hexed him. I might have done it myself but I don’t know any
hexes yet.”

“Did you just hex Draco with donkey ears?” Theo asked as he and Blaise strolled into the
hospital wing. Blaise was grinning so wide it almost looked painful.

“Harry,” Blaise said as he stopped beside Harry’s bed and beamed at him with pride. “Teach
me how to do that, I beg you.”

“Can’t,” Harry said and winked at Blaise. “It was accidental magic. Madam Pomfrey said
so.”

“Ah, yes, accidental magic.” Blaise nodded knowingly. “The one thing they never punish
children for.”
Neville burst through the hospital doors. “Did you hear? Someone hexed Draco Malfoy with
donkey ears.”

Theo, Blaise and Millicent all pointed at Harry, who took a bow as well as he could sitting up
in bed.

“I should have known,” Neville said, utterly unsurprised by that particular plot twist. Then he
shrugged. “Well, I guess he had it coming. Everybody was getting tired of his utterly
unsympathetic bragging.” Neville spotted the Weasley twins and his mouth sank open. “What
happened to them?”

“A class 2 nightmare curse,” Harry said as they all took in the tormented expressions and
twisting bodies. “They’re stuck in their worst nightmare and it might last for two weeks or
more. And no, that wasn’t me.”

“Yes, a class 2 dark curse seems a little much for accidental magic,” Blaise said, seemingly
enjoying the sight the Weasley twins made. “Whoever cast it, though, deserves a reward. It’s
the perfect punishment. No permanent damage but a few weeks of torment to drive the point
home you’ve done wrong.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Theo said, his face pale as he stared at the twins. Neville was
paler still, his hands trembling and almost too late did Harry realize Neville might be
reminded of his parents when looking at Fred and George twisting violently as though they
were in pain.

“So, what have I missed this past week?” Harry asked loudly to offer a distraction. Neville
looked at him with a grateful smile and sat down in an empty chair.

Harry chatted with his friends and accepted a stack of copied notes and homework
assignments. He wasn’t worried one bit about having missed a week’s worth of classes. His
friends stayed until right before dinner. Just as they were leaving, Snape stalked into the
hospital wing and narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“It was accidental magic, Professor,” Harry said with his most innocent smile. “Madam
Pomfrey said so.”

“Indeed,” Snape said, mouth curling into a smirk. “That was an amazingly accurate yet
accidental modifier, Mr Potter. I do believe an accidental detention is in order for your
accidental magic. Perhaps disembowelling some more amphibians will curb your accidental
tendencies.” Snape gave Harry a pointed look. “You will come to my office tomorrow
evening after dinner.” And with that he stalked out of the hospital wing again.

Message received. Snape couldn’t give two shits about Harry hexing Draco, but he wanted
answers about Harry’s peculiar situation and now he had the perfect excuse to interrogate
Harry for a few hours without disturbance. Harry should have realized Snape would take
advantage of a situation whenever he could, that sneaky Slytherin.
 Chapter 23
Chapter Summary

Harry has a talk with Tom, and a talk with Snape. Guess which one ends badly.

Harry waited until after nine that evening before calling Tom. That was when Pomfrey turned
down the lights in the hospital wing and went to her own quarters. Harry closed his curtains,
cast all the privacy charms he knew and activated his mirror.

Tom answered within half a minute, cup of camomile in hand. “How was your day, my
dear?”

“Soulmate!” Harry grinned at Tom, his heart soaring while at the same time a sense of
calmness came over him, as it usually did whenever he talked to Tom lately. “I’ve had a
weird day. First of all, that nightmare curse you used on the Weasley twins is inspired. I’ve
been admiring it all day.”

Tom’s small smile morphed into a satisfied grin and he took a bow, almost spilling his tea in
the process. “I’m glad to hear it arrived where it was supposed to and has the desired effect.”

“Oh, they’re suffering, alright,” Harry said with an agreeable nod. “Pomfrey had to silence
and restrain them.”

“Excellent.” Tom sipped his camomile with all the satisfaction of a cat that ate about a dozen
canaries. “It should last up to three weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Harry said while he frowned at Tom. “Except now Dumbledore somehow
suspects me of casting that stupid curse.”

“Ah.” Tom didn’t seem at all surprised by this news. “So the old man is up to his usual
tricks.” At seeing Harry’s puzzled expression, he explained further. “Even as far back as my
schooldays this was Dumbledore’s usual tactic when dealing with Slytherins. It doesn’t
matter if there is any evidence or not, if there are other suspects or not, if a Slytherin is so
much as barely involved in a situation, they must be the guilty party somehow. And no matter
what anyone else says or how unlikely it is, Dumbledore will stick to his conviction that the
Slytherin is guilty. I knew he still treated Slytherins like this during Severus’ time, and it now
appears he’s still displaying the same prejudiced behaviour.”

“In other words, I’m nothing special,” Harry said, feeling oddly relieved Dumbledore hadn’t
somehow figured out Harry was far more powerful than an average eleven-year-old since he
was technically eighteen.
“In this you are not, no,” Tom said with a teasing glint in his blue eyes. Harry realized he
didn’t even really notice the changes to Tom’s face anymore and accepted his new visage as
normal. Probably because he still looked incredibly like Tom Riddle while also possessing
plenty of new characteristics. The wizard who had applied that kind of transfiguration had
truly done some excellent work.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Harry said, reaching for the glass of pumpkin juice he’d been saving
since dinner, just so he would have something to drink as well. “Of course, having the twins
here meant that Mr and Mrs Weasley stopped by.”

“How did that go?” Tom asked when Harry didn’t continue right away. Mostly because he
was sorting through his thoughts when it came to the Weasleys. For the most part, he now
accepted that they’d betrayed him, if not actively then passively, and that he’d never been as
important to them as they had been to him. But at the same time, they had been his surrogate
family for years, and one was his best friend, and another his so far only girlfriend. The
Weasleys were unmistakably entwined with Harry’s previous life and not so easily erased
from Harry’s thoughts as he would like.

“It was strange,” Harry finally said, and took a sip of his pumpkin juice to occupy his mouth
while he tried to find the right words. “They’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a caring
family and when I was eleven I desperately wanted to be a part of their family.”

“But you’re no longer eleven,” Tom said quietly with a considering look.

“No,” Harry agreed, staring down at the glass in his hand. “I’m looking at them very
differently now and realizing they were never my family, no matter how many handmade
jumpers they sent me or how often they invited me over to spend a week or two at their
home.” Harry couldn’t look Tom in the eye while he blurted out, “Besides, my idea of family
has changed since I was eleven and all I wanted was parents who cared for me.”

“Has it now?” Tom sounded more intrigued than anything else.

Harry finally looked up at him and decided to change the subject because he felt weird
confessing to Tom he was Harry’s desired family now. “You can’t tell me you’ve never
wished for parents when you were young.”

Tom inhaled a deep breath, leaning back in his seat a bit. “When I was young, yes, certainly.
Every orphaned child longs for a family. I got my hopes shattered, however, after I was
brought back one too many times.”

“What?” Harry asked stupidly. Tom had been adopted? Was that what he was saying?

Tom lowered his gaze, his smile rigid. “I was an attractive and clever child. Of course I got
adopted out a few times. And when I was very young I wanted it to work, to have a family of
my own. Anything would be better than that bloody orphanage. But my magic was very
strong and active and I had no control over it at first like most children. So inevitable I’d get
nervous or scared or a little too excited and my magic would react. And my new parents
would freak the fuck out, think me possessed or something equally silly, and return me to the
orphanage post-haste. It’s one of the reasons I put so much effort into learning to control
these strange powers I had, but by the time I had some control the Matron, who was sick of
getting me back time after time with stories of demons and devils, had already started to warn
people away from me. I was never chosen for adoption again and eventually convinced
myself I didn’t even want a family.”

Harry swallowed against the sudden ache in his chest. Poor Tom, to be rejected every single
time for magic he had no control over and didn’t even know what it was at that time. The
wizarding world really was neglectful when it came to orphans or muggleborns stuck in
harmful situations.

“We should add that to the changes we want to make,” Harry said, glad to have found a way
to take action and solve this problem. “We should make it law that any magical child stuck in
an orphanage should be brought into the wizarding world.”

Tom’s expression went from tight and blank to deeply amused in a second. “Harry, you
darling Gryffindor. Wanting to ride to the rescue of all these poor magical orphans stuck in
evil Muggle orphanages.” Tom chuckled while Harry bristled at being made fun of when he
just came up with a workable plan. “You’re only a few decades too late, my dear.”

“What do you mean, I’m too late?” Harry demanded, sitting up straighter.

“There are no more orphanages in the UK. Children without families are put in foster homes
and go up for adoption from there. The closest thing to an orphanage this country still has are
residential care homes, but these only take in children with severe disabilities who cannot
live at home because of them.” Tom looked at him with a huge smile, eyes bright with
humour. “So save your dashing self the trouble of trying to rescue the orphans. They’re fine.
Well, at least they’re much better off than they were in my youth.”

Harry’s mouth was hanging open. “But those fucking Dursleys were always threatening to
put me in an orphanage whenever I did anything they didn’t like.”

“They lied,” Tom offered.

“They fucking lied, those fucking bastards.” Harry had no idea why it upset him this much to
learn he’d been lied to about orphanages, but it did. “All this time I could have been living
with a nice foster family or even been adopted by people who actually wanted me? But
instead Vernon kept telling me horror stories about orphanages and threatening to throw me
into one and like an idiot I believed him and never even considered running away or
something.”

Tom waited patiently until Harry was done with his impromptu rant on his relatives. “It’s
rather funny you’re so surprised by a lie they told you while they treated you like dirt, starved
you and made you sleep in a cupboard.”

“I know, okay.” Harry threw his hand up in sheer frustration. “It’s just, I’ve been afraid of
ending up in an orphanage my entire fucking childhood and now I learn there haven’t been
any orphanages anymore for decades. Wait, why aren’t there orphanages anymore?”
“Because people finally realized raising children in institutions like that leads to many
emotional and behavioural problems that follow them into adulthood. Children do best in
family settings where they can bond properly with caregivers,” Tom explained patiently.

“Huh,” Harry said, astounded he’d never heard of this, or had even considered it. “Well,
that’s good,” he finally said, still too flabbergasted to come up with some more compelling
conversation. But thinking about orphanages and Tom’s childhood did make him remember
something else he wanted to mention to his soulmate. “So we can scrap saving magical
orphans from the agenda. Can we please add outlaw love potions to it?”

Tom looked at Harry in surprise but it quickly became a pleased smile. “We most certainly
can. May I ask what brought this on?”

Shrugging, Harry ducked his head, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious though he wasn’t
sure why. “Because people get hurt by those bloody things. Look at your parents.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed a little. Harry had learned since he’d started conversing politely with
the Dark Lord that his parents were a very touchy subject even on the best of days.

“And because people send me love potions,” Harry quickly added, not wanting to offend Tom
or piss him off by singling out his family situation. “In my previous life and this one.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed even more until they were mere slits and he stared at Harry with intent.
“Who are these people that send you love potions? As far as the world knows you’re eleven.”

“I know.” Harry shuddered dramatically. “And it was just one witch this time. I’ve sent off all
the information to the Aurors. It’s their job to handle these things.”

“Hm.” Tom didn’t look at all appeased by this solution, so Harry decided it was time to
change the subject before Tom got it in his head he needed to send out class 2 nightmare
curses to everyone and their grandmother and their kneazle who so much as looked funny at
Harry.

“On a different note, I gave Draco Malfoy donkey ears,” Harry said with no small amount of
pride.

Tom didn’t seem very impressed with this news. “Are you actually eleven? Because you
hexing Lucius’ spawn with donkey ears is rather compelling evidence that you are in fact a
child.”

Harry’s grin didn’t waver under Tom’s criticism. If anything, it grew significantly wider. “He
had it coming, trust me. He spent the entire week being insufferable about me getting injured.
He wants to be Seeker and tries to disparage my Quidditch skills at every turn.”

“That doesn’t convince me of your maturity, my dear.” Tom shook his head while giving
Harry a hopeless look as he so often did whenever Harry brought up such fascinating subjects
such as Quidditch. “Isn’t it past your bedtime yet?”
Harry wanted to object for a moment, but when he actually thought about it he realized he
was tired and he did have classes first thing tomorrow morning. “Yeah, I should probably go
to sleep. One last thing, though.” Harry brought the mirror a little closer to his face. “Snape is
a sneaky Slytherin who used me hexing Draco as an excuse to give me detention tomorrow
evening so he can interrogate me.”

“Don’t drink anything he offers you,” Tom said pleasantly. “Severus is very eager with
veritaserum when he wants answers.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Harry said, a little insulted Tom would think him that naive.

“Then I don’t see a problem with a little interrogation.” Tom shrugged and downed the last of
his camomile. “I don’t blame Severus for wanting to learn some more about what’s going on.
I’ve only told him the bare minimum. He’s magically bound to secrecy so you can tell him
however many details you want to share.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Harry said while he stretched out against the mattress, pulling the
covers up to his chin. “I’ll see what Snape has to say.”

“You look tired, my dear. Call me after your meeting with Severus.” Tom gave him a small
smile. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Tom,” Harry whispered, already drowsy. He closed the mirror, slid it under his
pillow and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Harry’s return to the general student population was noticed by everyone. The students of
Hogwarts had stopped whispering about him some weeks ago, but they picked all the talking
and staring and pointing right back up again when Harry walked out of the hospital wing. He
stopped by his dorm to gather his books and made it to the Great Hall in time for breakfast.

“Welcome back,” Theo said, scooting to the side to let Harry sit down between him and
Blaise.

“You’ve certainly made an impression on the whole school,” Blaise said while he nodded in
the direction of two young Ravenclaws who were standing on their bench to get a better look
at Harry.

“What are you looking at?” Tracey snarled over her shoulder at the Ravenclaw table. The two
gawkers quickly sat down again.

Harry shook his head, determined to ignore all the unwanted attention like he’d been doing
since the start of the school year. He served himself a generous portion of eggs and bacon and
tucked in.

Draco was noticeably absent from breakfast that day, but he turned up in the entrance hall
right before classes started, wearing his pointy wizarding hat which every student had to buy
but no one ever wore. You could clearly see two huge, grey ears stuffed up inside the hat and
Draco kept drawing attention to it by continuously pulling the hat down as far as he could.
Draco glared at him and then deliberately turned his back on Harry, which suited Harry just
fine.

They had double Herbology and double Charms that day, and both Sprout and Flitwick
welcomed him back and gave him two weeks to catch up on any homework he might have
missed. Harry planned to finish it all up before the weekend. He met with his friends in the
library and he was glad that everyone seemed to make an effort to avoid any talk of his injury
or time spent in the hospital. It felt like Harry had never left once everyone was seated and
had their homework spread out around them.

When Susan got up to look for a book to help with her Defence essay, Harry saw an
opportunity and decided to take it. He followed Susan into the stacks, glancing over his
shoulder to make sure they were alone.

“Susan,” Harry said quietly.

“Harry?” Susan looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“I need a favour.” Harry swallowed, looking down at his shoes, pretending to be overcome
for a moment. “When I was in a coma, I saw my parents.”

Susan clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

“I’ve already been looking into what happened to them,” Harry quickly continued. He didn’t
want to upset Susan too much, seeing as she, too had lost her parents in the war. “I know
Sirius Black betrayed them and that he’s in Azkaban, but I’ve been looking for a report on his
trial to see if he ever mentioned why he betrayed them, but I can’t find anything.” Harry gave
Susan a pleading look. “Could you maybe ask your Aunt Amelia if she could look for the
trial transcripts. They must have those at the Ministry. I would ask the Ministry myself, but
I’ve got no clue what department to write to.”

“Yes, of course,” Susan said at once. “I’ll ask my aunt, she’ll know where to find the trial
transcripts.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with genuine gratitude. He’d now taken the first step in getting
Sirius released. Once Amelia Bones realized Sirius never had a trial and told Harry, he could
then offer to get Sirius a solicitor to get to the bottom of his case, hopefully sometime during
the Christmas holidays some three weeks away.

“You’re welcome,” Susan said, patting him on the arm. “I’ll write a letter right away and
have my owl Simon take it to Aunt Amelia this evening.”

The rest of the afternoon flew by as Harry made an effort to get caught up with his
homework. By dinner time the whispering and pointing had died down somewhat, thankfully.
Snape kept a very sharp eye on him all throughout the meal while Harry studiously ignored
him and enjoyed his spaghetti Bolognese. The moment Harry finished his plate, Snape got up
from the head table and strode towards Harry with determined steps.

“With me, Potter,” Snape all but snarled and didn’t even wait to see if Harry followed.
“What?” Daphne looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Why?”

“I’ve got detention for rearranging Draco’s ears,” Harry said with a grin, earning a snort from
Daphne.

“You should be expelled for mutilating a fellow student,” Parkinson spat. Harry ignored her
and hurried after Snape. Instead of leading him to the Potions classroom, Snape marched
straight to his office and held the door open for Harry to slip inside. Then Snape slammed the
door shut and cast several locking and privacy charms.

“Sit down,” Snape hissed, seating himself behind his desk. Harry quickly sat down in one of
the empty chairs in front of the desk and then waited patiently while Snape studied him, his
arms crossed and an even bigger sneer than usual on his face. Harry wondered if Snape was
angry. He seemed a bit angry.

“What on earth possessed you,” Snape finally said through gritted teeth, dark eyes blazing
with fury, “to bring back the Dark Lord, you lunatic child?”

Oh yeah, he was spitting mad.

Harry ducked his head, looking down at his lap for a moment. It was weird to be called out
for his actions like that. Until now, the only people who knew the truth were people who were
happy about the changes. Harry, Tom and Barty. That was it. But now Snape knew and he
obviously had a very different view on things.

Not that Harry was surprised by this. When had Severus Snape ever, in any life, agreed with
anything Harry said or did.

“Because he deserved a second chance, with his soul and sanity intact,” Harry whispered, still
not looking at Snape.

“Deserved a...are we talking about the same man here, Potter?” Snape all but growled, his
hands pressed down on his desk as he leaned forward to glare at Harry. “The man who has
personally killed hundreds of people, tortured even more of them, ended whole family lines
for the simple reason those witches and wizards disagreed with him. That man? Did not
deserve a second chance.”

“You don’t know him,” Harry said, looking up at Snape with narrowed eyes. He didn’t like
Snape’s description of Tom one bit. It seemed entirely unfair. “He was insane when he did
those things.”

“And he was sane when he cursed the Messrs. Weasley just yesterday,” Snape snarled.

Harry shrugged, looking away again. “Fred and George deserved a little punishment.”

“A class 2 dark curse, a nightmare curse, is not ‘a little punishment’, Potter.” Snape looked
about ready to curse Harry just to prove his point. “It remains to be seen if the Messrs.
Weasley make it out of that curse unscathed.”

Harry frowned and looked up at Snape. “It doesn’t do permanent damage, Tom said.”
Snape snorted and crossed his arms again. “It does no permanent physical damage. But it
remains to be seen how much of their sanity will be in tact after spending weeks living their
worst nightmares.”

Gaping at Snape, Harry leaned back in his seat. He hadn’t know about that side-effect, though
perhaps he should have figured that out for himself.

“I suppose the Dark Lord failed to mention that to you,” Snape said with no small amount of
satisfaction. “Then again, torturing people into insanity was always a favourite hobby of his.”

“He’s not that Voldemort anymore,” Harry insisted, pushing away this new information about
the nightmare curse for now. He’d take it up with Tom later. Now he wanted to convince
Snape that he’d made the right decision in bringing Tom Riddle back. “He’s changed so
much.”

“I DON’T BLOODY WELL CARE HOW MUCH HE’S CHANGED NOW!” Snape roared,
slamming both his hands down on his desk.

Harry pushed himself back into his seat in trepidation. Snape looked ready to launch himself
across his desk and strangle Harry with his bare hands for having brought the Dark Lord
back.

Snape inhaled a deep, shaky breath, visibly trying to calm himself when he saw Harry’s
reaction to him. “I doubt you’d understand what the first war was like, seeing as you hadn’t
been born yet, Potter, but let me assure you that, insane or not, your precious Tom caused
untold amounts of grief amongst the witches and wizards of this country.”

“I do understand,” Harry muttered.

Snape ignored him, resolutely continuing his monologue. “He murdered enemies and allies
alike. He murdered children. He let his followers have their way with anyone in any way. Do
I have to spell that out for you, what some of the Death Eaters did to young muggleborn
witches, and occasionally wizards, they got their hands on?”

Harry had barely considered any of those things, to be honest, but in hindsight it didn’t
surprise him those horrible things happened. “No, I get it.”

“You clearly do not get it,” Snape growled, balling his hands into fists, perhaps to keep
himself from going for his wand. “Because if you got it, you wouldn’t have brought back
your parents’ killer!”

Harry jumped up from his seat, unable to contain himself anymore. “I killed him!” Harry
yelled, gesturing wildly at Snape. “I killed Voldemort, and I died. Twice.” Harry’s breathing
sped up and became uneven but he didn’t even consider stopping his tirade to try to control
his breathing. “I’ve lived through a war, I’ve been vilified and prosecuted by the Ministry
even before Voldemort took it over, I’ve been on the run for almost a year while living in a
tent and starving, I’ve lost so many people, I’ve seen so many people die.” Harry stopped
talking for a moment as he stared at Snape, seeing nothing but red around the man. “I saw
you die. You died right in front of me, on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and there was so
much blood gushing from your throat that the whole floor was red – “

“Potter.”

“And I couldn’t stop it, I didn’t know any healing spells or had any useful potions on me, I
mean dittany can only do so much –“

“Potter, breathe.”

Fuck. Harry couldn’t breathe.

 Chapter 24
Chapter Summary

Harry continues his talk with Snape, and has a very informative talk with his soulmate.
Oh, and someone dies.

Why the hell did this have to happen now? Harry did not want to break down in front of
Snape of all people. Inhaling deep breaths through his nose, Harry tried to focus his thoughts
away from images of the war and Snape dying and his trial and the veil coming closer and
closer...

“Potter, drink this.” Snape held out an opened vial to him, but when Harry didn’t take it, he
added, “It’s a calming draught. Nothing else.”

Harry took the vial with trembling hands, sniffed it once to verify Snape probably wasn’t
trying to poison him, and downed it in one go. At once warmth spread across his body and
his mind, and both his breathing and his heart rate slowed.

“I did everything they wanted me to,” Harry whispered, staring at the floor while leaning
forward in his chair, elbows on his thighs and arms held tightly against his body. “Everything
and more. I died for them. I killed for them. And in the end all I got in return for giving them
my all was a sham of a trial and an execution.”

Snape stood in front of Harry, hip pressed against his desk and arms crossed. He stared down
at Harry with a blank expression, which was an improvement over the rage Harry had seen on
his face just moments earlier.

Harry looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “My best friends turned against me, sat on the
stand and let the Ministry murder me. No one came to my rescue even when I’d given my life
to rescue the world.” Harry briefly licked his lips while he gave Snape a challenging look.
“So why did I give Tom a second chance? Because I wanted to. Because he’s my soulmate, or
the closest thing to it I’ll ever have. And because I was curious to see what he would do with
a second chance with his soul and sanity intact.” Harry shrugged and leaned back in his chair.
“And I really don’t care if Tom deserves this second chance or not, or what it means to the
world. The world can go fuck itself.”

Snape gave a slow nod, shifting on his feet to find a better position while he kept staring
down at Harry. “And I take it you have no plans to vanquish the Dark Lord anytime soon?”

Harry snorted with laughter while he looked at Snape in disbelief.

“The headmaster is going to be ever so disappointed,” Snape drawled with a healthy dose of
sarcasm. “He’s counting on the Boy Who Lived to do away with the Dark Lord.”

“The headmaster wants me dead,” Harry said in a monotone voice. “He’s going to have to
learn to live with that disappointment.”

“Hm.” Snape gave another slow nod. “While I can sympathize with your less than desirable
ending,” Snape said entirely without sympathy, “I find it hard to stomach that you’d willingly
subject the people around you, new friends you’ve obviously made, to the mercy of the Dark
Lord.”

“Tom isn’t Voldemort,” Harry said a little louder than he’d meant to. Snape was getting on
his nerves, though, with this constant whining about Tom’s past actions. “There isn’t going to
be another war, he told you so. He wants to change our society, sure, but he wants to do it
without violence.”

Snape raised a very sceptical eyebrow. “If not violence, then how does he plan to accomplish
this? And what are those changes exactly? I cannot imagine you’d go along with any plans to
segregate muggleborns, such as the Dark Lord always aspired to do.”

“There’s not going to be any muggleborn registration commission this time, Tom’s
promised,” Harry said quickly, so hopefully Snape would understand Tom had indeed
changed. Or at the very least had changed his plans. Then Harry went to answer the rest of
Snape’s questions but found himself unable to. He knew that Tom wanted to change the
wizarding world, but they hadn’t really talked about specifics all that much. Tom had ranted
about bureaucracy at the Ministry a time or two, and about their practice of hiring people
based on their pedigree or connections more so than for their competency and skills. And of
course Tom wanted to bring back certain traditions and rituals the Ministry had banned over
the decades. But that was it as far as Harry knew. It’s not like Tom had ever given him a list
or something of all the changes he wanted to make in detail.

“Er...” Harry said, swallowing as he looked up at Snape with wide eyes. “He wants to bring
back traditions and stuff.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and released a sigh that seemed to come from deep
within a well of patience that was about to run dry. “Every Slytherin wants to bring back our
lost traditions, Potter.” Snape slowly released his nose and stared down at Harry with such
disappointment that it took Harry aback for a second. He’d seen plenty of emotions on
Snape’s face before over the years. Mostly anger, scorn and ridicule. But he’d never seen
disappointment like that directed at him before. “You do not have a clue about the Dark
Lord’s plans, do you? You’ve brought him back and you’re letting him run amok without
having a single idea about what he wants to do to our world.”

“No,” Harry denied, just for the sake of denying anything Snape said. Even if he had the
sinking feeling Snape might be at least a little bit right about this. “He wants to overhaul the
Ministry – “

“And do away with muggleborns, and rule the world, and have everyone kneel before him
and kiss the hem of his robes,” Snape interrupted him, his expression morphing back into a
familiar sneer. “Yes, I know what the Dark Lord wants better than you, Potter. I’ve met the
man plenty of times.”

“That’s not true!” Harry’s heartrate picked up again despite the calming draught in his
system. Snape just drove him mad with these accusations. “You don’t know him, not as he’s
right now. Tom is not Voldemort!” Harry inhaled a huge breath through his nose and blew it
back out again through his mouth.

“You’ll have to forgive me that I don’t take your word for it. You’re much too close to the
Dark Lord for some unfathomable reason.” Snape shook his head briefly and peered down at
Harry through a curtain of black hair. “Also, you must get these physical manifestations of
your traumas under control. You cannot depend on calming draughts every time you start
hyperventilating.”

“Tom sent me some Muggle books on PTSD and stuff. They’ve been helpful,” Harry
muttered, glaring at Snape while he kept repeating his breathing exercises.

Snape blinked and arched an eyebrow. “The Dark Lord sent you Muggle books?”

“Yeah. He had Barty buy them since he was still inhabiting a homunculus and couldn’t go
himself, but after my first panic attack in your class he got me those books. They really do
help, but dealing with trauma like this takes time.” Harry shrugged. He refused to be ashamed
of what was going on in his head, even when dealing with Snape and his penchant to mock
anything and everything Harry Potter. The way Harry saw it, he’d earned all his traumas
when saving others, and dying to save the world, and he would not let anyone make him feel
bad about that. Not even Snape, who had earned the title of ‘person most likely to get under
Harry’s skin and rile him up completely just by existing’ many times over.

“Hm.” Snape seemed unsure what to do with that information, but Harry couldn’t care less.
He was exhausted. He was only just recovered from a traumatic brain injury and on top of
that he’d just relived some of his traumas and his body was obviously done for the day. Snape
seemed to notice this, too, and for once in his life decided to spare Harry from further
suffering. “You’re dismissed,” Snape said as he stepped away from Harry and sat down
behind his desk again.

Harry felt a hundred years old as he stood up from his chair. His body ached all over and
seemed to want to do everything in slow-motion. “Good night, Sir.”

Snape sneered at Harry in response. “Get out of my office.”

Harry shuffled back to the Slytherin common room, thankfully not that far away from
Snape’s office. It was hard to believe it was only the second week of November in his first
year at Hogwarts. To Harry, it felt like he’d been reliving his life for years already, not for
barely four months. Of course, that probably happened because he’d spent years at Hogwarts
already in his previous life. Not to mention, he had been very busy setting up his second life
so far, and he’d only barely scratched the surface of things he still wanted to change. But
Snape’s admonishment of Harry not having a clue about Tom’s plans did drive the point
home that Harry was just winging his second chance, at least for the most part. He wasn’t
very organized and perhaps he should be. The more he changed, the less predictable the
future would be and there would come a point, probably soon, when Harry could no longer
depend on his foreknowledge of the future, because the future would be utterly changed.

Perhaps Harry should put a bit more time in planning things out. Not just his own plans, but
Tom’s as well. He trusted Tom, up to a point. Harry was well aware that Tom had a track
record of making monumental mistakes. Horcruxes, anyone? And while Tom made it clear he
didn’t want another war, Harry wanted to be sure Tom wasn’t going around killing people
quietly, just because that was all Tom knew how to do when it came to changing things.

He checked his watch and realized it was not even eight. Still, he really was exhausted and he
still wanted to call Tom so he decided to just go to bed right away, but he vowed that the next
day he would put one of his notebooks to good use and write some plans down.

Blaise and Theo were playing cards in their dorm, as they usually did early in the evening.

“What did Snape do to you?” Theo asked with obvious worry in his voice. Blaise merely
looked Harry up and down and shook his head.

“Not much,” Harry said as he collected his pyjamas. “Still not fully recovered, I think. I’m
going to bed.”

“Probably for the best,” Blaise said, turning back to his cards. “You look like you’re about to
keel over.”

“Yeah,” Theo agreed quietly. “Good night. And if you need more time to heal, I’m sure
Pomfrey would let you take a day or two off classes.”

“Nah.” Harry waved Theo’s concerns off. “I’m sure I just need a good night’s sleep. Night,
guys.”

Harry got ready for bed as quickly as his tired body let him and made sure no one could
disturb him before calling Tom on the mirror.

“Harry?” Tom answered, for once not seated in a comfortable leather chair in the reception
room but behind a desk in what looked like an impressive office. “Is everything all right?
You’re calling early today.”

Harry smiled, tired as he was. Seeing Tom always did make him feel better. “Yeah, I’m fine.
Just exhausted from ‘detention’ with Snape.”

“Ah yes,” Tom said, gaze suddenly a little sharper as always when Harry mentioned Snape.
Just because Tom had let him live didn’t mean he’d forgiven Snape in any way, shape or
form. Harry was well aware the only reason Snape was still alive was because he served a
purpose for Tom. “Your interrogation with Severus. How did that go?”

“Pretty much as expected,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Snape was angry I brought you back.
Seemed to believe you’re still the old Voldemort. Wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Tom chuckled for a moment. “I’m not surprised in the least Severus would rather you’d left
me in pieces in limbo.” Tom looked at Harry with mirth shining in his eyes. “It is beyond
amusing to remember that Severus joined me out of his own free will. He begged me for the
mark, since he’s a half-blood and I refused him at first. And he threw all of that away over a
silly girl who hadn’t even talked to him in years.”

“That silly girl was my mum,” Harry grumbled, glaring at Tom. He understood what Tom
was saying, but he wouldn’t let Tom insult his mother.

“And a brilliant witch she was,” Tom said smoothly, course correcting like a professional
bullshitter. “The point remains that Severus giving you a hard time for interacting with me is
rather deliciously hypocritical of him.”

“Yeah, but I doubt Snape cares about that,” Harry said as he leaned his tired body back
against his pillow. “He did mentioned something I hadn’t considered and you hadn’t told me.
That the nightmare curse might drive the twins insane.”

Tom looked at Harry for a few long moments, previous humour slipping off his face. “I doubt
they will end up truly insane,” he finally said with a careless shrug. “They’re young teens.
Their worst nightmares won’t be traumatizing enough to drive them mad.”

Harry sighed in defeat. So there were permanent effects, while Tom had assured him there
wouldn’t be. “You said they’d be fine, that the curse wouldn’t harm them permanently.”

“And it won’t,” Tom assured him with a pleasant little smile. “But they will feel an effect
from the exposure to their worst nightmares. How else will they learn a lesson?”

Harry frowned and worried his lip. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He wasn’t even
sure if Tom had lied to him or not.

“What exactly is the problem?” Tom asked, definitely sounding a little impatient now. “Just
yesterday you were complimenting this curse and its effects, and now you’re suddenly
pouting about it. Why? What did Severus say to you to bring this about?”

Shrugging, Harry looked up at Tom from beneath his eyelashes. “I was telling Snape you’d
changed, and Snape insisted you hadn’t because you’d cursed the twins with something that
would drive them insane, which used to be your favourite hobby. Cursing people until they
went insane.”

“Well,” Tom said and then stopped talking while he looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.
Harry stared back at him, not sure if he should have brought this up at all, or even why he
was upset about this. Up until the point Snape said something about it, Harry had been
perfectly fine with that curse.

“I don’t know why this bothers me,” Harry said since Tom still wasn’t talking. “I’m not even
sure if it bothers me all that much, and maybe that is what bothers me, that the curse doesn’t
bother me.”

Tom’s rigid expression finally cracked and he grinned while he briefly looked down. “Very
eloquent, my dear. Truly well said.”
“Oh fuck off,” Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling oddly embarrassed.

“What a poet you are,” Tom continued, his smile now obviously teasing. Harry rolled his
eyes and looked away as his cheeks warmed. “Anyway,” Tom said and inhaled a deep breath.
“I think you brought up a valid point here, my dear. I do believe you’re mostly bothered by
the fact you’re not at all that bothered.”

“Who’s a poet now?” Harry said, tempted beyond belief to stick his tongue out at Tom but he
wouldn’t. He wasn’t actually eleven.

Tom wisely ignored him. “As for what I did as Voldemort, I can give you an apology for my
actions of the past, but unless we’re inventing a time-turner that can go back farther than a
few hours, I cannot change them. No matter how much I want to these days.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said with a solemn nod. He knew he couldn’t keep rubbing
Voldemort’s past in Tom’s face. That was entirely unproductive, not to mention unfair to him
as he was right now. Still, no matter how much Harry liked Tom these days, he did want to
know what Tom planned to do. “Snape also asked about your plans and how you wanted to
implement them without violence.”

“And what did you tell him?” Tom asked, perking up a little, eyes narrowing as he gave
Harry an almost challenging look.

Did Tom know Harry was pretty clueless about his plans? Harry had a sneaking suspicion he
did and was about to rub it in his face. “You know, that you wanted to bring traditions back
and stuff.”

“Stuff?” Tom asked innocently.

“Yes, Tom, lots and lots of stuff,” Harry snapped, slightly mortified he’d spent months
encouraging Tom to make changes without actually knowing what those changes were. “Like
redoing the Ministry.”

“Redoing the Ministry. That’s what we’re calling it?” Tom asked, still with the kind of smile
that would charm any headmaster, save Dumbledore, to waive a detention even if he’d
missed a full day of classes.

“Fine,” Harry said with a dramatic groan. “I don’t actually know what you plan to do outside
of bringing traditions back and redoing the Ministry. Please enlighten me, oh dearest
soulmate of mine.”

Tom laughed, head falling back as he relaxed in his chair. “That only took you a few months,
to realize you don’t have a clue what I want to do with our world.”

“I’ve been busy,” Harry said through clenched jaws, cheeks feeling like they were on fire.
“And traumatized. And I’ve had brain damage.”

“I truly was wondering when you’d come knocking to ask me about my plans. If it wasn’t for
Severus, I don’t think you’d have realized your lack of knowledge until the summer
holidays.” Tom clearly had been anticipating this moment, of Harry’s sheer humiliation.
Harry ran a tired hand across his face. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, and Tom
seemed to realize Harry truly was exhausted and cut his teasing short.

“When I attended Hogwarts and learned about our world, one of the things that bothered me
the most was that the Ministry, and thus our society, was run on favouritism,” Tom said,
effortlessly slipping into a lecture mode that wouldn’t be out of place on a Hogwarts
professor. “When it came to working for the Ministry, climbing their ranks, it didn’t matter
how smart or talented you were. What mattered was your family name or who you knew.”

Harry slowly nodded, not so much because he was familiar with these issues, because he
wasn’t, but to encourage Tom to keep going.

Tom obliged him, continuing his speech as though he knew it by heart. “I was smarter and
magically more powerful than all my roommates combined, yet since I lacked an impressive
family name and had no important connections to speak of, I’d have to start in the mail room
at the Ministry, no matter my NEWT scores. While my roommates would end up in whatever
position they desired, simply because their fathers and uncles would make it happen.”

“That’s so unfair,” Harry said with an enormous burst of sympathy for Tom as a child.
Brilliant, talented and overlooked by an outdated system. “But that was during your
schooldays. Is it still that bad in this day and age?”

“Perhaps not quite as bad as it used to be, but favouritism is still the most used method for
hiring at the Ministry,” Tom said with a resigned little sigh. “I planned to use my charm and
Slytherin lineage to bind my pureblood classmates to me by pretending to want to see
nothing but purebloods in charge of our society, while in truth I wanted to overthrow the
system from the inside. Become the Minister for Magic and hire people based on talent and
competency, nothing else.” Tom offered Harry a cheeky wink.

Harry realized his mouth had dropped open as he stared a Tom. He’d never known about
these kind of plans from his soulmate. “So what happened?” Harry finally managed to ask
once he’d closed his mouth again.

“Horcruxes happened,” Tom said, his expression as sour as if he’d just swallowed a lemon
whole. “Without even realizing it was happening, I started believing the propaganda I was
spouting to bind the wealthy purebloods to me. I was becoming insane and started believing
insane ideas about blood purity and more such nonsense and I completely lost sight of what
I’d set out to do.”

“You basically became the thing you were trying to get rid of,” Harry whispered, mind
reeling from all this new information about his soulmate. “Those fucking horcruxes really did
destroy you in every possible way.”

“That they did,” Tom agreed quietly, giving Harry a small but knowing smile. Tom shook his
head a time or two, took a deep breath and sat up a little. “But that is in the past. Currently
my plans are threefold. First, reinstate traditions and rituals that the Ministry has
unreasonably banned, and teach our society to celebrate all kinds of magic. Secondly, focus
on competency, not favouritism in places like the Ministry and Hogwarts. And last but
certainly not least, find better ways to shield us from Muggles and prepare for the inevitable
discovery by Muggles.”

“Okay, that sounds good,” Harry said, happily surprised and relieved to note that he agreed
with all three of those points. “I can get behind all of that.”

“I’d certainly thought you’d agree with these plans,” Tom said just a little smugly.

Harry ignored Tom’s self-satisfied grin. “And how are you planning to accomplish all that?
By becoming the Minister for Magic? How?”

“With help, of course.” Tom seemed very amused by Harry’s puzzled expression. “Lucius
and Theodorus are my initial introductions to the wealthy and influential members of our
society.”

“Wait,” Harry interrupted Tom when something occurred to him. “But those two are
purebloods who expect you to want to follow their pureblood agenda.”

Tom snickered, his nose wrinkling in a way that looked downright adorable, which what the
fuck? Why was Harry thinking that now? “My dear, it’s not like I’m going to tell them my
true plans,” Tom said, giving Harry and his naivety a fond smile. “I’m going to butter them
up with grand plans of blood prejudice and take my time to convince them to see things my
way eventually.”

“Convince them,” Harry said disbelievingly. “Is that what we’re calling you cursing them
into next week if they disagree with you now?”

“Nothing so drastic.” Tom waved Harry’s suggestion away with an airy gesture. “At least not
at first.”

Harry shook his head with a sigh, not finding a lot of sympathy in himself for the
hypothetical cursing of a few fanatical Death Eaters.

“Besides charming my way into high society,” Tom continued as if Harry hadn’t interrupted
him. “I require a seat on the Wizengamot.”

“And you’re going to get one of those how?” Harry asked, unsure how the Wizengamot even
worked. Hermione had ranted about its unfair systems a time or two over the years, but Harry
was young and stupid and had mostly tuned her out.

“That’s where I need your help, my dear,” Tom said with a positively sweet smile that almost
made his cheeks dimple. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Tom batted his eyelashes next.

“I have a seat on the Wizengamot?” Harry wondered how the hell he missed that in his
previous life.

“No, you don’t,” Tom said, quickly putting Harry’s mind to rest that he’d overlooked
something that momentous about his family. “But your godfather does. Or he will once
Arcturus gives up the ghost.”
“Huh. And you want me to do what?” Harry asked slowly, unsure where Tom was going with
this.

“Do you even know how the Wizengamot works?” Tom asked with a little frown, as though
he only now realized Harry probably hadn’t ever thought to look into their judicial and
governing system, not even when he was put on trial all the way back before his fifth year. Or
at any time these last four months after Harry had actually been sentenced to death by the
Wizengamot.

Harry felt a hot wave of shame wash over him, for never educating himself about something
so vital to their society. “Er...”

Tom shook his head, expression both amused and resigned. “The Wizengamot is both our
judicial and legislative branch. It oversees trials and it has the power to create new laws or
abolish old ones. Wizengamot seats are hereditary. The first ones were given out to the most
influential families during its creation in 1544. When the Ministry was established in 1707
more seats were created and dispersed amongst the wealthy and well-connected. Many
families still hold the seats they were once given, passing it on within their families.
However, Wizengamot seats can also be sold or gifted. My ancestors, the Gaunts, used to
have a seat but sold it off sometime in the 19th century to pay off some debts they’d
accrued.”

“And my family?” Harry asked, curious if they, too had ever sold something so important.

“Your family never had a seat,” Tom told him. “The Potters, while having an interesting
pedigree, were never as influential or pureblooded as many preferred over the centuries. In
fact, most of high society considers the Potters new money, thanks to your grandfather
Fleamont and his potions. Before that addition of wealth the Potters were mostly middle-class
for many generations.”

“I never knew that. When I was eleven the first time, all I saw was a vault full of gold inside
Gringotts and assumed my family must always have had money,” Harry said with a small
shake of his head.

“Going from middle-class to fairly wealthy, as your grandfather managed to do for a time is
still a better deal than what the Gaunts did. They lost their wealth and status through insanity
as a direct result of fucking their own siblings to keep their lines pure,” Tom said with
obvious distaste.

“Yeah.” Harry chuckled at Tom’s disgusted face. “When you put it like that, I’ve not gotten
such a bad deal. So what do you want me to do with Sirius’ seat?”

“Convince him to gift it to you,” Tom said matter-of-factly. “Sirius Black was never one for
politics, and now with a decade of dementors gnawing at his brain I doubt that has changed
any. Tell him you’d like to make this world a better place or something, and I’m sure he’ll
give it to you.”

“Right.” Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered
before and to be honest, he wanted to think that over when he wasn’t as exhausted.
Tom seemed to read his mind, or at least Harry’s tired expression. “You need rest, my dear.
None of these things need to be decided right this minute. But now at least you have an idea
where I stand and what I plan to do.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, suppressing a yawn. “Thanks for explaining this all to me.”

“You’re very welcome.” Tom offered Harry one last, warm smile. “We’ll talk again
tomorrow. Good night, Harry.”

“Night, Tom.” Harry closed his mirror and was asleep in minutes.

The next morning at breakfast Harry was crudely reminded of Tom’s plans for getting his
hands on a Wizengamot seat when he opened the Daily Prophet and glanced over the
obituaries, like he did every day just to see if he recognized any names.

‘Arcturus Black III

May 2, 1901 – November 10, 1991
Widower of Melania Black nee Macmillan’

Harry blinked as he stared at the announcement of the death of Sirius’ grandfather. Either this
was the world’s weirdest coincidence, or Tom got a little impatient for a Wizengamot seat
and decided to help things along personally.

It bothered Harry to no end that he wasn’t sure which one of these options was true.
 Chapter 25
Chapter Summary

Harry talks to Tom, goes to Herbology and has the most important epiphany of his life.

Chapter Notes

Guess who's back? Yes, I've finally found time and energy again to write the next
chapter after the pandemic had literally and figuratively put me on my ass. As I'm sure
goes for many of you, my life got turned upside down by the events of the past two
months. I'm good now after being sick for a few weeks, my loved ones are fine, and
we're all adjusting to this new reality as best we can.

I can't make any promises as to future updates, but I'm going to try to release at least a
chapter a week from now on, barring any future pandemics.

For those who might have missed it, a few weeks ago I wrote a ficlet set in this universe.
Be sure to check it out if you haven't already.

Stay home and stay safe, everyone!

Harry excused himself to his Slytherins on the way to Herbology. He ducked into the first
empty classroom he saw, cast every locking and silencing charm he knew and got out his
mirror. He whispered Tom’s name in parseltongue and waited impatiently for his soulmate to
answer.

It took a minute or two, but Tom eventually came into view on the small screen.

Harry stared.

“Is something wrong?” Tom asked, while naked and wet.

Oh, Harry could only see Tom’s wet face and wet hair and wet naked shoulders and part of
his wet naked chest. But it was obvious that the whole of Tom was wet and naked after just
having stepped out of the shower if the steam billowing from an opened door behind Tom
was any indication.

“Harry?” Tom managed to sling a damp towel over his head with one hand while holding
onto the communication mirror with the other one. He lazily dried his wild, wet hair while he
arched an eyebrow at Harry’s lack of response.

Harry couldn’t breathe.

Fuck. Why did this have to happen now? What the hell did seeing Tom wet and naked have
to do with his traumas from his previous life?

“Harry? Talk to me.” Tom lowered the towel and gave Harry a very concerned look.

“Arbldeeed.” Harry managed to say. It wasn’t coherent by any stretch of the imagination, but
at least he managed to say something instead of choking like he’d previously done after he
was triggered.

Tom rolled his eyes, which what the fuck? Was Tom making fun of Harry’s traumas? “Let me
put some clothes on, perhaps that will loosen your tongue.”

What did Tom’s clothes have to do with anything? Harry rubbed a hand over his face while
Tom put the mirror down so all Harry could see was the ceiling and part of a small
chandelier. Harry could hear a closet door opening and closing, followed by the sounds of
rustling clothing.

Did Tom really have to get dressed right there and then? Couldn’t he wait until after they had
talked? Harry had Herbology in about three minutes and he still had to make his way to
greenhouse one.

“Better, my dear?” Tom asked as he came back into view. He was wearing a white shirt, the
top buttons undone so Harry still saw plenty of chest, but at least it wasn’t wet anymore.

“Blegh,” Harry said, and immediately cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess,” he finally managed
to say, much to his enormous relief. “Though I’m not sure what just triggered me. Usually I
can pinpoint what trauma causes a panic attack.”

“Yes, how curious that seeing me right out of the shower should cause you a panic attack.”
Tom was looking at Harry the way a teacher might look at a beloved student who had
completely missed the point of the lesson; with vast patience and fond indulgence.

“Look, I’ve got class in about thirty seconds,” Harry said, while staring hard at the classroom
door as though that might buy him more time. “I’m calling about Arcturus Black. He died.”
Harry glanced at Tom, unsure how to ask what he really wanted to know without making it
sound like an accusation of sorts. The last thing he wanted was for Tom to believe Harry
didn’t trust him, because Harry did trust him. To a point. As much as he liked Tom these
days, it was impossible to forget what Tom had been capable of once upon a time.

Some of Harry’s conflicting thoughts must have been visible on his face because Tom gave a
few slow nods. “Ah,” he said and his expression was the most complicated Harry had ever
seen it. Somehow it simultaneously conveyed deep offense and endless amusement. “You
believe I wanted to help matters along with old Arcturus even though your godfather is still
in Azkaban and killing Arcturus would serve absolutely no purpose at this time. Not to
mention, Arcturus died around November in our previous lives anyway. I remember Quirrell
mentioning the obituary when I was stuck as a parasite on his head.” Tom’s smile was genial
but his tone was just a little bit too sharp.

Well, when you put it like that. Harry felt very foolish for having even considered Tom might
have done it without considering why he would do it. “Sorry,” he blurted, cheeks heating
with embarrassment. “I didn’t know when Arcturus had died in our previous life.” Harry
gave a helpless shrug. Back in his original first year Arcturus Black, or any member of the
Black family, wouldn’t have meant a thing to Harry, so any announcements about them
would have gone completely over his head. “It’s just such a weird coincidence, considering
our conversation of last night.”

“Yes, but a coincidence nonetheless.” Tom’s tone was softer now and his smile utterly
indulgent. “Now, don’t you have a class to attend?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he inhaled a sharp breath. “Yes. Fuck. I’m so late.”

“Go,” Tom said with a chuckle. “We’ll talk more tonight.”

“Yeah, bye.” Harry snapped the mirror shut, shoved it in his pocket and hurried out of the
classroom. It still took him at least five minutes to get to the greenhouse.

“Mr Potter?” Sprout gasped in surprise as Harry burst through the door. “You are awfully
late.”

“Sorry. Had to use the loo and got dizzy, couldn’t make it in time,” Harry said in between
deep breaths.

Sprout offered him a kind smile and waved him to his usual table with Theo, Blaise, Ernie
and Justin. Harry tried not to feel too guilty about shamelessly using his recent traumatic
brain injury to his advantage.

“Mr Malfoy,” Sprout called across the greenhouse. “You’re scaring your lavender with your
hat. Remove it, please.”

Draco glared at Sprout with all his might but she remained resolute and pantomimed
removing a hat at him several times before Draco finally gave in and pulled his pointy hat
from his head, his long, grey donkey ears springing free and flopping around a few seconds
before they finally stood upright.

All around them students giggled, including Harry and his friends.

“Now, students, it’s not very nice to make fun of a fellow student for his physical deformity,”
Sprout scolded as she looked pointedly at the sniggering students. Draco looked like he
wanted to hex her for daring to refer to any part of him as a ‘physical deformity’. “Enough,
children. Back to your lavender. It’s not going to bloom on its own!” Sprout marched up the
isle, giving any student in her path a firm glance and everyone quieted down while turning
back to their plants.
Harry bit his lip to stop from laughing. Seeing this snooty, arrogant version of Draco Malfoy
being made fun of was endlessly entertaining. It might help bring him down enough to
everyone else’s level so he’d turn into a tolerable individual before long.

They were working with lazy lavender, and Harry returned his focus to the potted plant
before him. Lazy lavender had wonderful magical properties, which made it an important
potions ingredient, not to mention an amazing addition to any pork roast, according to
Sprout. The problem was, as the name implied, this magical strain of lavender was lazy and
refused to bloom without plenty of encouragement and tender loving care. It liked plenty of
spraying with fresh spring water, the finest manures applied carefully around its base and
long hours of gently stroking its tiny leaves before it even considered flowering.

“Come on then,” Harry whispered at his plant while stroking his fingers up and down the still
small plant. “I bet you’d look real pretty with some flowers, wouldn’t you?” Their
assignment was to get it blooming by the end of the school year. Harry remembered in his
first life he’d barely made the deadline, with his plant growing one measly little flower,
because he and Ron hadn’t taken any of it very seriously at all. His current friends were
doing a little better at least.

Blaise was whispering what sounded like sweet little nothings in Italian to his plant while
tickling each little leaf at a time, Theo was making offerings of different kinds of manures
while carefully taking in his plant’s reactions, Ernie talked boisterously at his lavender,
saying it would be the most magnificent plant ever if only it bloomed, and Justin was telling
his plant to entire plot of the Star Wars movies in detail, emphasizing time and again they
were his favourites and if his lavender bloomed he might be able to arrange a private viewing
of said movies in his living room.

Harry stuck to speaking soft words of encouragement while stroking his plant carefully while
his thoughts drifted back to his earlier conversation with Tom. It was perhaps unusual that he
kept thinking back to the conversation in so much detail. Harry thought about Tom often,
because Tom was his friend and soulmate, but now he was thinking not so much about the
things they’d talked about, as he usually did, but about the way Tom had looked.

Naked and wet. And wet and naked. Also naked and wet.

Harry couldn’t get one particular image out of his head, that of a drop of water running down
the side of Tom’s face, across his temple and down his lightly stubble-covered cheek and jaw.

Also, Tom had been naked. And wet. While talking to Harry. While Harry had looked at him.
Very naked and wet.

Why on earth was this suddenly such an obsession for him? Harry couldn’t wrap his head
around it. He’d seen plenty of guys naked and wet before in the Quidditch dressing rooms
after their games. It had never made him obsessed before.

It wasn’t as if Harry was –

“Holy fucknuts!” Harry shouted, having just had a very important epiphany. Harry’s
lavender, which had just been perking up under Harry’s gentle touches, threw itself
dramatically over the rim of its pot in a dead faint.

“Mr Potter!” Sprout exclaimed while staring at him with wide eyes. “Two points from
Slytherin. There is no need for such language.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry said quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment but not because
he’d lost some points. Theo was looking at him with a quirked eyebrow while Blaise was
laughing into the fist he had pressed against his lips. Both Ernie and Justin looked entirely
confused by Harry’s sudden outburst. “Must be my traumatic brain injury,” Harry added with
an apologetic smile aimed at Sprout. She harrumphed once and shook her head, before
turning her back to Harry to answer a question Millicent had asked her before Harry’s sudden
outburst.

Harry stared resolutely down at his currently unresponsive lavender, cheeks heating up even
more.

He was attracted to Tom.

How the ever-loving fuck had that happened?

Harry wasn’t gay. At least he didn’t think he was gay. He’d honestly never given any of that
sort of stuff much thought in his previous life. He’d been too busy surviving the Dursleys and
Hogwarts and Voldemort to consider who and what he might be attracted to.

He’d thought Cho Chang very pretty, but he’d honestly hadn’t known much about her other
than that she liked Quidditch, was a decent Seeker and was sorted into Ravenclaw. Oh, and
that she had crappy tastes in friends, but honestly, after the end of his previous life Harry
could be accused of having tastes similar to hers when it came to his best friends.

And with Ginny...well, she’d been pretty and she liked Quidditch and was a decent
Seeker....oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry’s standards had been ridiculously low, hadn’t they, when it
came to what sort of girl to date. And truthfully, Ginny’s family had been as important a
factor of Harry choosing her than Ginny herself. After all, if he eventually married Ginny,
he’d be a part of their family for real instead of just being Ron’s best friend.

Harry was forced to conclude that when it came to his romantic involvements in his previous
life, Harry had never, ever made any real effort, nor had he been very picky about his options,
merely settling for the easiest, most convenient person without considering what he really
wanted.

Still, suddenly being attracted to a man, a genuine, real man with man-parts, was a surprise.

Not an unwelcome surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.

Harry had always thought Tom was attractive, but in a detached, rational way, the same way
he’d thought Sirius had been very handsome in his younger years, before Azkaban had left its
permanent marks on his godfather’s appearance. But Harry had never been attracted to Sirius
in any way, shape or form.
But Tom...naked and wet Tom...smiling and laughing Tom...looking at Harry with such fond
indulgence Tom...

Holy crap, Harry was definitely attracted to his best friend. His soulmate. His prophesized
enemy, well, former enemy. Who was also a man, with man-parts.

But was this truly the first time Harry was attracted to another man? Or had he just not been
paying attention? Which was entirely possible, knowing himself. Harry was well-aware he
had a real talent for being oblivious about the most common things.

Looking back to his previous life, Harry was forced to conclude he’d always thought Cedric
was very handsome, and not necessarily in the same way he thought Sirius handsome. And
the first time he’d met Bill Weasley, during the summer before his fourth year, Harry had felt
rather flustered around him more often than not. He’d grown out of that, but he remembered
thinking about Bill more than any other Weasley sibling, at least for a while.

And Marcus Flint truly did have amazing biceps.

And Blaise did grow up to be a very attractive man.

For fuck’s sake. Harry really hadn’t been paying attention to his own desires, had he? Too
busy saving the world and everyone in it to consider something so utterly important to his
own life.

Yeah, Harry could concede, in retrospect, that he’d probably always been attracted to men
and women both, but because he was an utter idiot, he’d never realized it before.

“Mr Potter,” Sprout said as she came to a stop right behind Harry. “You’re not making a lot of
progress yet.” She waved a hand at Harry’s drooping lavender.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry mumbled while staring down at his plant. “It’s still difficult to
concentrate,” he lied. He couldn’t very well tell her the truth. Sorry, Professor, I just realized
I’m sexually attracted to my soulmate, who happens to be the Dark Lord formerly known as
Voldemort.

“I understand, Mr Potter,” Sprout said kindly. “Just try as much as you can.”

“Thanks, I will,” Harry said and went back to petting his lavender, determined to save the rest
of his soul searching for that afternoon when he didn’t have classes and could spend some
time by himself to sort through his thoughts and come to terms with this new revelation.

The rest of the class Harry was true to his word and focused on his plant and before long the
bell rang and they were on their way to Charms. Neville met them outside the classroom.

“Harry,” Neville said while Harry cheerfully waved at him. “Do you mind if I partner with
you today?”

“That’s no problem,” Harry said, following Neville inside the room and leading him to the
Slytherin side of the room. The Slytherins knew better than to comment about Harry’s
friendship with Neville, and while Harry did hear Ron mutter something unflattering to
Seamus about Neville’s choice in friends, Harry knew it was just jealousy talking on Ron’s
part so he ignored it.

“I’ve been practising the Lumos Charm this whole week,” Neville said once they sat down
and everyone around them was loudly getting into their own seats. “But it just won’t work
properly, no matter how hard I try.” Neville gave him a hopeless look.

Harry stared at Neville, something niggling in the back of his mind about Neville and his
magical talents. Neville had plenty of magic. But in his previous life Neville had trouble
casting spells as well, even simple ones like the Disarming Charm during their illegal defence
lessons when Umbridge made everyone’s lives utterly miserable in Harry’s fifth year.

It wasn’t until their sixth year that Neville really started to shine in the use of practical magic,
after he broke his old wand during the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

“Your wand,” Harry blurted and quickly snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t want to draw any
attention to a perceived weakness of Neville’s with Draco sitting just a few seats away
sporting donkey ears Harry had given him and probably lusting for revenge of some childish
sort.

“What about my wand?” Neville asked quietly, staring down at his wand which he’d placed
on the desk in front of him.

“I couldn’t help but notice it’s a used wand, right? You didn’t buy it from Ollivander’s?”
Harry asked delicately, understanding better than most how emotional a subject his father’s
wand was to Neville.

“It’s my father’s wand. My grandmother gave it to me to use,” Neville whispered while side-
eying Harry with some trepidation.

“Your father was a great wizard, but the wand chooses the wizard,” Harry said, keeping an
eye out for Flitwick. “Meaning this wand was perfect for your father. But you’re not a copy
of your father, Nev. Half of you comes from your mother.”

Neville’s mouth slowly sank open while his eyes widened briefly. “So the wand doesn’t work
well for me because it doesn’t fit me because I’m both my parents’ child.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, very pleased Neville understood so quickly, without feeling insecure
his father’s wand wouldn’t work for him the way it had for Frank Longbottom, Auror
Extraordinaire, no matter what Neville’s grandmother wished for. “Maybe talk to
McGonagall about this. She’ll take you to Ollivander’s herself, I’m sure, if your grandmother
refuses. You’ve got some money to pay for a new wand, right?”

“Yeah, I have an allowance and I don’t spend much,” Neville said distractedly, clearly deep
in thought about all the information he’d learned just then. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said sincerely, just as Flitwick called the class to order. He wanted
to hit himself in the head for almost having forgotten about Neville’s unresponsive wand.
Then again, he’d hardly been very close friends with Neville in his previous life, more like
friendly acquaintances, so he probably shouldn’t be too hard on himself for not remembering
every little detail about every single person he’d ever met.

Though this did emphasize the importance of planning his new life a little more carefully and
perhaps writing down all the details he remembered about people of importance and
significant events that might happen in the future.

Like Gilderoy Lockhart being an enormous fraud. Harry now remembered he’d promised
Tom he’d write down everything he knew about the guy right before his Quidditch accident.
Time to make good on that promise. While Flitwick was lecturing and everyone around him
was taking notes, Harry got out a fresh sheet of parchment and wrote down all he knew about
good old Gilderoy. Neville was so busy with his own notes he never noticed what Harry was
writing down.

After Charms ended, Harry joined his friends for lunch but told them he wanted to spend a
few hours by himself that afternoon. Blaise replied with a smile and a shrug while Theo
looked him up and down once or twice before giving a slow nod. That was all the response
he got and once again Harry marvelled at the differences between Slytherin and Gryffindor
friends. Harry knew for a fact Ron and Hermione would have badgered him mercilessly if
Harry had wanted to spend some time by himself without explaining in detail why.

When lunch was over, Blaise and Theo headed to the library with the rest of their group while
Harry made his way to the seventh floor. He needed some time to himself without the risk of
being disturbed and aside from the Chamber of Secrets there was only one place in Hogwarts
where this kind of privacy was guaranteed.

Harry thought about a room the size of a large cathedral filled to the nook with everything
and nothing as he paced up and down a stretch of blank wall. Heavy, wooden doors appeared
at once and Harry quickly slipped inside, grateful for the silence that greeted him.

Holy fucking crap, he was attracted to Tom. Harry let the door fall shut behind him while he
bent double at the waist and rubbed his hands furiously across his face. Some of his long hair
slipped from his ponytail but Harry ignored it.

How utterly ridiculous was this? Harry was attracted to Tom, who was a grown ass man, old
enough to be his grandfather even though he didn’t look it, and the murderer of his parents
and hundreds of other people.

And Harry wanted to do things with this man while he was naked and wet. Or just naked,
probably. Harry wasn’t even sure what things, exactly, though his imagination seemed ready
to roll out a whole buffet of options if Harry let it, which he didn’t because holy crap, he was
attracted to Tom fucking Riddle, Voldemort himself. Kind of.

How was this his life? Harry sank down on the stone floor and stared at the mountains of
junk around him while his thoughts kept going round and round, always coming back to the
point of him being attracted to Tom, holy crap.

And Tom was attracted to men, Harry knew this much because Tom had told him. And
Merlin’s saggy underwear, Tom had realized something was up with Harry’s ridiculous
reaction because he’d put on clothes while Harry was literally rendered speechless by the
sight of his naked body.

Harry buried his face in his hands again and groaned with sheer misery and embarrassment.
How was this even happening?

Tom liked men, yes, but Harry wasn’t a man. He was an eleven-year-old boy, at least in body,
which...no. Just no. There was no way Harry could do sexy things with Tom such as he was
without freaking himself the fuck out. Just absolutely not going to happen. Besides, Harry
was pretty sure Tom himself wasn’t at all attracted to children, no matter their mental age was
actually eighteen.

No, if there ever was to be something between them, they’d have to wait until Harry was at
least well into puberty. In fact, Harry was pretty sure the age of consent in the Wizarding
World was sixteen, as far as Harry could remember, which seemed like a reasonable age to
become sexually active with an older partner. Which meant that it was in everyone’s best
interest that until he turned sixteen, Harry should keep his attraction to himself.

Best to let sleeping Slytherin heirs lie. For as far as Tom was unaware that was, because
Harry clearly gave some of the game away during their encounter that morning. Now he’d
just have to play it off as silly hormones or something and keep his real thoughts and feelings
to himself, at least for another five years or so.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and went back to staring at the junk around him. It was for the
best that they wait. If Tom even was attracted to Harry in the first place, because Harry had
no clue about that. In fact, it was entirely possible Tom might meet someone he wanted to
date in the next few years while he was out and about in Wizarding society while Harry was
stuck as a child at Hogwarts.

That thought did very painful things to Harry’s chest and he absentmindedly rubbed across
his sternum to get rid of that tight feeling.

On top of Harry feeling very uncomfortable with the idea of having sexy times with Tom
while he physically was still a child, Harry also realized that the risk for Tom was far too big
to start any kind of intimacy before Harry was at least of the age of consent. Tom aspired to
become the Minister for Magic at some point in the future. If it ever got out he’d gotten
involved with a twelve or fourteen year-old Harry Potter his chances to become Minister
were done for. Not to mention he might even end up in Azkaban for at least a few years.

There was too much at risk for Harry to indulge himself in whatever his imagination was
trying to come up with when it came to Tom and his naked wetness. Harry knew he wasn’t
the most patient person in the world, but now was the time to learn some patience. He had
plenty to keep himself busy with the upcoming years, and if Tom was still single and at all
interested Harry could always approach him once he was old enough.

And if Tom wasn’t single or interested...well, Harry was just going to have to learn to live
with that. There was nothing he could do about it now, plain and simple.
Harry looked over the mountains of junk again and decided that now was a good enough time
to start sorting through some of it like he’d planned. He remembered Tom mentioning a
Christmas gift he was working on for Harry, and Harry wanted to get Tom something nice in
return. Hopefully he’d find some interesting book or artefact in the mountains of junk before
him. He might as well look for a present for Barty and the rest of his friends while he was at
it. But the longer he stared at the mountains of junk, the more Harry realized it would take
years and years to sort through all of it one piece at a time. Neville had talked about the
Room of Requirement a lot, though, while they were rebuilding Hogwarts during Harry’s
previous life. Neville mentioned you could ask the room for lots of things while you were
inside the room as long as you were the one who had summoned the room in the first place.

For the first time in his life Harry wondered how the Room of Requirement even worked.
What kind of magical techniques did it require to build something like it? Was it charms or
runes or enchantments? Maybe alchemy? All of the above? Harry had no clue, but suddenly
had the strange urge to figure it out.

That would have to wait for a later time, though. Right now he wanted to sort through the
many, many objects before him without spending years doing so.

Slowly, Harry got to his feet and cleared his throat. Magic was intent and the Room of
Requirement worked on the intent of its user. “Room,” Harry said, voice filled with
determination. “I want you to place all the books in this room in a pile over there.” Harry
waved to a mostly clear spot to his right.

For a second or two nothing happened and then at once a huge pile of books appeared right
where Harry had pointed. It toppled over immediately against the pile of junk beside it, books
and all manner of items crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. All around him, mountains
shifted and toppled over as books had suddenly disappeared, leaving holes behind. Harry
could jump out of the way in the nick of time as a few chairs rolled off a mountain to his left
and landed right where he had been standing.

“Okay, so that worked,” Harry said with a snicker as he took in the new landscape. There
were a lot of books, some still fairly new and others very old from what he could tell at a first
glance. Any new-ish textbooks he could sell in one large batch to the second-hand bookstore,
and any older books he could add to his own growing collection or gift to Tom and Barty for
holidays and birthdays. Tom’s birthday was also coming up at the end of December, after all.

Harry needed help separating the textbooks from everything else and he knew just who to
call. “Kreacher!”

Within seconds Kreacher popped in the room, completely ignoring the chaos of scattered
books and random items around him. “Little Master is calling Kreacher. Little Master is
recovering and Kreacher is bringing the little Master treats for his good health.” With that
Kreacher pushed a bundle of treats wrapped in a red dishtowel in Harry’s hands.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said, almost salivating when he unwrapped the bundle and found
half a dozen raspberry crème tarts drizzled with dark chocolate. Kreacher had made these a
time or two for him during the summer and they were delicious. Aside from treacle tart, these
were Harry’s absolute favourite. “First, could you quickly take this note to Winky and ask her
to give it to Thomas Gaunt at the first opportunity?” Harry held out the list of all he
remembered about Gilderoy Lockhart. Kreacher accepted it with a nod and popped away.
When he appeared again not even a minute later Harry had already finished one tart and had
started on another. Kreacher seemed entirely satisfied to see Harry stuffing his face.

Once his mouth was empty again, Harry wrapped up the rest of the tarts and carefully placed
them in his bag to enjoy that evening. “Could you help me sort through this pile of books?
Put all the textbooks on one side so we can sell them, and sort everything else by its age.
Very old, a little old, and anything younger than say fifty years.”

“Kreacher will help the little Master.” Needing no further encouragement, Kreacher started
flicking his fingers on both hands and directed a slew of suddenly levitating books one way
or the other. Harry ignored the pile of textbooks for now and aimed his wand at the pile of
very old books, casting every detection charm he knew. No need to have a repeat of Riddle’s
diary slowly possessing a student because Harry carelessly touched a cursed book or
something. He found a few curses, mild anti-theft things that had mostly lost its power over
the years. One book lit up with unfamiliar runes all over the cover and Harry carefully
levitated that to the side. He might gift it to Barty to figure out with a short note of warning.
Kreacher was done fairly quickly and Harry thanked him profusely before dismissing him
and concentrating on finding Tom a nice Christmas gift.

He found it in the form of what looked like a diary written in a very archaic form of English
that Harry couldn’t understand. What piqued his interest was the Slytherin crest on the front
cover and the dates on the pages. The diary was written in 1631, and Harry just knew Tom
would love deciphering what it said. He’d also found a book about Arithmancy and its uses
in warding from 1811 which he knew Barty would love, so that was another Christmas
present taken care of.

For himself Harry found a small copy of the Hogwarts charter and rulebook. Knowing that he
knew far too little about the world he now lived in, Harry promised himself he would read it
cover to cover and follow it up with Regulus’ copy of Hogwarts, a History. It was ridiculous
he knew nothing about Hogwarts’ rules and regulations while he attended it, knowing its
Headmaster wanted him dead.

This was one of the things he desperately wanted to change about himself. This ridiculous
ignorance he’d lived with for years now about the world around him. Once he was done
informing himself about Hogwarts, Harry vowed to learn everything he could about how the
Ministry worked no matter how boring or dry the material was he’d have to slog through.

Harry placed the books for Tom and Barty in his bag and added a few titles he’d found that
seemed interesting. Books on spell crafting, potions and one huge magical cookbook. The
rest of the books he left behind to sort through another day. As far as Harry knew, no one else
at Hogwarts knew about the Room of Requirement at this time so he wasn’t worried about
anyone else taking any of these books before Harry could return to them.

There was still an hour before dinner and Harry joined his friends in the library and worked
on his homework while he listened to Daphne and Justin bicker about whether or not centaurs
should be allowed at Hogwarts. Justin was in favour because he was eager to meet such
mythical creatures while Daphne insisted it was a tremendously bad idea, mostly because
centaurs wouldn’t fit in their current furniture. Harry remembered Firenze teaching
Divination in a classroom enchanted to look like a forest with some fondness but stayed out
of the argument while he finished his Charms essay.

All throughout dinner Harry felt increasingly nervous about talking to Tom that evening and
addressing his absurd reactions early that morning without giving away how he really felt
about his soulmate.

“You okay, Harry?” Theo asked him quietly when Harry skipped dessert, which he rarely did
since he had a bit of a sweet tooth.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back. “My house-elf brought me some sweets earlier so I’m
stuffed.”

Theo gave him a knowing smile which Harry returned while wondering how many kids who
had access to house-elves summoned them to Hogwarts on the sly for things like sweets.
Probably more than anyone realized.

“Ugh,” Draco moaned across from Harry, donkey ears tucked away securely beneath his
pointy hat. “Why can’t they serve a decent roast beef at this school. And what is this rubbery
thing supposed to be? It can’t be Yorkshire pudding, surely.”

Harry remembered Tom’s story about an ever-whining Abraxas Malfoy with such a strong
burst of fondness his entire chest filled with warmth. This feeling did not let up as Harry
followed Theo and Blaise to the Slytherin common room and a little later to their dormitory
for their nightly game of exploding snap before they went to bed.

How was he going to pull any of this off? Did he really want to convince Tom he wasn’t
attracted to him while admitting the sight of his naked body caused such a strong response
Harry first thought it was a panic attack? Did he really expect Tom to be dumb enough to buy
any of this instead of seeing right through Harry’s silly schemes? Since when had Harry gone
completely crazy?

It had to be the traumatic brain injury. It had to be.

 Chapter 26
Chapter Summary

Tom does some soul searching, tries not to question his own existence, and gets in touch
with an old friend.

Chapter Notes

Yes, I'm still alive and still working on this story, though I do apologize for the time it
took to get a new chapter out. I'm trying my best, but RL has gotten in the way. Also, I
was stuck with writing the next chapter, unable to find Harry's voice for what was
needed. So finally I admitted defeat and decided to give Tom a chance to have a say in
this story. This chapter and the next are from Tom's pov, after that we'll get back to
Harry's daily life. This story will mostly stay with Harry's pov, but from time to time
we'll probably have a little look what Tom is up to.

Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. I'm still completely overwhelmed by the
response to this story. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me, and I'm posting this
new but rather short chapter for all of you out there eagerly awaiting more. The next
chapter should be a bit longer and I'm trying to get it written as fast as I can. Thanks
again!

Chapter 26

Tom smiled as he closed the mirror. He was willing to bet a handful of Galleons that Harry
had no clue why he responded the way he did. Tom had experience with people’s extreme
reactions upon seeing him in various stages of undress. He fondly remembered the time
straight as a broomstick Abraxas brained himself on a bedpost when Tom exited the
bathroom only wearing a towel riding low on his hips during their fourth year. Hormones
were flying high with all of them, adolescents that they were, and Tom had experimented
with how to use his body to manipulate those around him. Abraxas got to spend the night in
the hospital wing while Tom collected some more useful data to work with.

Of course, this time he hadn’t purposefully talked to Harry while naked. Harry caught him
right out of the shower. But that made the results no less entertaining.

Tom continued getting dressed while thinking about his little soulmate. He spent a lot of time
thinking about Harry ever since he found himself stuck on the back of Quirrell’s head for the
second time in his existence. This time, though, he had a complete soul and the first few days
of coming back to life were perhaps the most confusing and terrifying days of Tom’s long
life. To say he suffered through a brief but overwhelming existential crisis was putting it
mildly. Poor Quirrell must have gotten more than a few splitting headaches before Tom came
to his senses and started planning instead of panicking while questioning his own existence.

The thing was, though, that for Tom, it seemed like the past 50 years hadn’t really happened.
Or rather, that they’d happened to someone else and Tom somehow got stuck with that
person’s memories. Ever since he violently ripped his soul apart, it wasn’t really Tom
anymore who had lived his life. The creature Voldemort was just that…a creature that
became more and more of a monster, sliding deeper and deeper into insanity the further he
ripped his soul apart.

Tom had a hard time coming to terms with what his life had become, all because of a spur of
the moment decision he had made when still a child. Fuelled by fear and arrogance, Tom had
decided to pursue immortality in the only way he knew how, through a ritual he’d read about
in a single book.

Merlin, what a fool he’d been. And what a price he’d paid. Intellectually, he knew he’d done
all those horrifying things. Murdered hundreds, tortured perhaps a tenfold more. Enslaved
and humiliated those he once called friends. Pursued an agenda that would have seen the
wizarding world destroyed.

Yes, Tom knew he had done all those things, had the memories of performing each and every
foul act, yet emotionally Tom couldn’t comprehend what he’d become. No matter what
righteous fools like Dumbledore claimed, Tom hadn’t been born a monster. His childhood
had moulded him into a hard and resourceful child, used to fighting for every scrap of
anything, willing to lie and cheat and hurt others to get ahead in life. But that was the result
of his upbringing for the most part. Tom wasn’t heartless. Tom had normal, human emotions.
Tom cared.

And then Tom ripped his soul apart and Voldemort had been born and fifty years later Tom
found himself stuck on the back of someone’s head because his prophesized enemy decided
for some inexplicable reason Tom deserved a second chance.

Some days, Tom realized his existential crisis was far from over. Never in a million years had
he expected to do his life over again. After he came to his senses enough to realize he needed
off Quirrell’s head as soon as possible, he’d realized he needed someone competent that he
could trust to help him start the process of eventually regaining a human body.

Quirrell had been able to catch Crouch Sr unawares outside his own home, stun him in the
back and dose him with an undetectable poison he’d picked up in Knockturn Alley hours
earlier. Tom had warned Quirrell to not confront Crouch Sr in any way, shape or form, since
Crouch Sr was an accomplished dualist and would wipe the floor with Quirrell if given the
chance. And Tom had no desire to end up as an interesting specimen to experiment with deep
in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. Thankfully, Quirrell had managed to dispose
of Crouch Sr without any trouble and Barty had been freed. It took Barty a week or two to
regain most of his personality after having spent years under the Imperius curse, but right
from the start he’d recognized his Lord and vowed to do whatever his Lord needed of him.
Before long Tom found himself occupying a homunculus, and while far from ideal, it was a
hell of a lot better than riding along on the back of someone’s head.

And then Harry had decided to visit and Tom had been perplexed by his adversary, his
vanquisher, his murderer. Harry, barely a man stuck in a child’s body, decided to treat Tom as
an old friend, regaling him with tales of his own betrayal and untimely death, while Tom kept
wondering when Harry would raise his wand and finish the job. Tom was mortal, or so he
thought. And he’d accepted that, he’d vowed to himself, once he regained his senses, that
he’d never make a horcrux again, no matter how short his second life might be.

And then Harry casually informed him that he was in charge of Tom’s life, that he decided
how long or short Tom would live this time around.

Rage had consumed Tom, alongside dread and disbelief. This child, this incompetent nobody
had somehow gained control over Tom’s entire existence?

And then Tom remembered Harry as he stood before him in the clearing in the Forbidden
Forest, ready to sacrifice everything no matter how terrified he was. And yes, Harry had been
filled with fear and doubt, Tom had read it all in his eyes, yet Harry stood there, defiant and
strong and more powerful than Tom could ever hope to be because Harry mastered the fear
that Tom never could and had led to Tom’s downfall so many years ago.

And in the Great Hall, when Harry stood before him again, fearless this time, a confident
smile on his lips, certain he knew something Tom didn’t, but yet again utterly willing to stand
in the way of a killing curse. It was incomprehensible to Tom, how such an ordinary child
could hold so much strength and power and not even realize it.

If someone had to have control over Tom’s life, it really could only be the person whose life
had always been entwined with Tom’s, who had seen to it that Tom got to have a second life
in the first place. Tom had accepted it as best he could, privately vowing to keep a very close
eye on Harry and manipulate him where he could to improve his own existence.

Well, Tom had tried to manipulate Harry, but sooner rather than later his calculated
conversations with Harry had turned into genuine talks he actually looked forward to. The
horror! Tom shook his head as he tied his shoes and remembered the utter shock he’d felt
once he realized he’d actually become friends with Harry bloody Potter. He wasn’t even sure
when it had happened, just that he’d noticed it after he’d ordered Barty to drop everything
and rush to a muggle bookstore to get Harry some helpful books after Harry told him about
having a panic attack in Snape’s classroom.

And there was another conundrum.

Severus Snape and his utter betrayal of Tom and the fact that he was still living and
breathing. Tom liked to blame Harry for this. He found that blaming Harry for everything and
anything he refused to acknowledge as his own fault was quite convenient, but truthfully
Severus’s fate was equally his own doing.

Before, when Voldemort had led his life, he’d been unable to comprehend why Severus
would betray everything he once held dear over a silly little girl that barely acknowledged his
existence anymore. But nowadays, Tom understood. He imagined himself in Severus’ shoes,
while Harry occupied the place of his mother, and Tom knew without a doubt he’d do
everything and anything Severus had done and more, to avenge Harry.

So, while Tom didn’t like it, he understood why Snape had done what he’d done. And he also
knew Voldemort had been beyond reason and needed to be stopped and in some ways Tom
admired Severus for being perhaps the only one of his followers who had so successfully
countered Voldemort’s plots and plans. Others had tried, like Lucius and Narcissa, but not
until the very end, not until they’d hit rock bottom and had nothing more to lose. Harry had
told him how Narcissa had defied him at the very end. Tom wasn’t surprised that she had, just
that it had taken her that long to do it. Narcissa was one of those people that looked like a
delicate flower, but inside her sat a spine of steel. Only a fool would ever underestimate her.

Of course, Voldemort had been such a fool, but Tom liked to think he knew better, at least
since starting his second life.

This was why he had decided to involve Narcissa in his future plans. Not only could she
temper Lucius’ more extreme pureblood notions and ambitions, Narcissa’s quiet strength,
keen intelligence and quick mind were a welcome addition to Tom’s plans.

First on the agenda was a visit to his old Hogwarts friend Theodorus Nott, father to Harry’s
friend, Nott the younger. Tom expected no problems there, since Theodorus had always been
loyal but never an extremist. Dorus, as his friends called him, was a true Slytherin, ambitious
but practical. He’d never let his beliefs stand in the way of furthering his goals, which for
Dorus meant growing his wealth and caring for his family.

“Morning, my Lord,” Barty said, briefly lowering the Prophet in his hands to look up at Tom
as he joined his assistant at the breakfast table in the recently renovated conservatory.

That was another thing Tom ran into these days. He was no longer comfortable calling his
associates his followers. He’d realized some time ago he didn’t want followers, people who
would blindly do whatever he told them. He wanted people at his side who were intelligent
enough to come up with the best course of action with or without Tom’s approval. He wanted
people who would stand up to him if needed, who would point out if Tom was about to make
a colossal mistake instead of cowering in fear. Harry had no problem telling Tom how he
really felt, for which Tom was grateful, and Barty was slowly learning that these days his
Lord welcomed his honest opinion, even if it went against expectations. A work in progress,
still, but improving every day.

“Morning,” Tom replied while he sat down, spread a napkin across his lap and waited for his
plate of food to appear before him in seconds thanks to Winky. “Did you secure that
appointment with the Malfoys?”

“Yes, we’re expected at two this afternoon to inform them about our new business venture,”
Barty said from behind the paper.

“Excellent,” Tom said between bites of scrambled egg. “I’ll visit Dorus this morning, get him
up to speed.”
“What are you telling him?” Barty asked, lowering the paper just a smidge, grey eyes curious
as he stared at Tom with raised eyebrows.

“The truth,” Tom said after some thought. He sat back and picked up his cup of Earl Grey.
“Dorus has always been loyal yet practical. I suspect he’ll be secretly glad of my
transformation while pretending it’s all the same to him.”

Barty snorted and went back to the Prophet, muttering something about opportunistic
Slytherins.

Tom sipped his tea, thinking it was a shame so many of his contemporaries had passed away
already. Abraxas had been a good friend, once upon a time when Tom still preferred calling
them friends instead of followers. And Rudolph Lestrange, father of Rodolphus and
Rabastan, had always been a decent friend. Wily and with the strangest sense of humour Tom
had ever encountered, but happy to follow along with Tom’s plans. At least, in the early days.
Later, when Rodolphus and Rabastan had become fanatical followers, beyond reason and
thriving on the pain of others, Rudolph had withdrawn from public life, claiming poor health
but spending the last ten years of his life living quietly in his Mansion with his wife while his
sons wreaked havoc on the world around them in between kneeling at Tom’s feet and kissing
the hem of his robes.

Tom experienced a strange sense of shame, not for the first time, when realizing what he’d
done to his friend’s children. Once upon a time, Rodolphus, an accomplished duellist and
very talented at charms and enchanting, and Rabastan, well on his way to becoming a Potions
Master, had their whole lives ahead of them. Handsome, talented, wealthy, with bright futures
awaiting them both. And now they were stuck in Azkaban for life, minds broken under the
onslaught of dementors.

And all because of Tom.

These were bitter realisations to have, but Tom forced himself to acknowledge these thoughts
instead of pushing them away. He’d read the books on traumas and how to deal with them
that Harry had sent him after he was done with them, and he realized acknowledging all the
crap that had happened in your life was the first step in dealing with it. Pretending it didn’t
exist was a way to make matters much, much worse. So Tom forced himself to feel every
ounce of shame and regret his mind could come up with.

After finishing his breakfast, Tom pushed his chair back and got up. Barty was still working
his way through the paper. Like a true Ravenclaw, Barty was unable to resist any written
word within reach. Though truth be told, Tom wasn’t much better. He hadn’t been lying when
he told Harry the hat had considered Ravenclaw for him. “I’m off. I’ll be back before our
meeting with the Malfoys.”

“Good luck,” Barty called after him half-heartedly, face still obscured by the Prophet. “Tell
Nott I said hello.”

Tom shook his head in amusement, strolled out the house and beyond the anti-apparition
wards. A determined thought, a push of magic, and Tom stood in front of the gates of Nott
Manor.
It was a good thing, perhaps, that Dorus had only fathered a child very late in life. That
meant, at least, that Dorus’ son hadn’t yet been ruined by Tom. Of course, in Tom’s previous
life, after regaining his body and building his army back up, Nott the younger had received
the mark, alongside quite a few of his followers’ children who’d grown old enough during
Tom’s absence. But since the boy was barely seventeen and still in Hogwarts, Tom had left
him alone for the most part. Now the boy was only eleven and rooming with Harry and
unaware what a horrible fate he had unwittingly escaped.

Dorus was one of those few purebloods who had married for love right out of Hogwarts.
He’d been the subject of much teasing for his infatuation, if not obsession, with Shelley
Abbot, a pureblood Hufflepuff a year below them. But Dorus was in love, obvious for
everyone to see, and after much wooing and courting, he won the fair Shelley’s heart and
hand in marriage. Shelley, it turned out, was just as in love as Dorus.

What should have been a long and happy marriage filled with the laughter of many children
turned into a nightmare when Shelley was unable to carry a child to term and suffered
miscarriage after miscarriage. Dorus spent a fortune searching for a cure the world over for
decades, and when he finally found a witch in Bolivia who performed the kind of rituals even
Tom would have thought twice about, both Dorus and Shelley pounced on the opportunity.
The witch warned them the ritual came at a heavy price, one that could not always be
predicted. It was Shelley who insisted they go through with it. So intense was her desire for a
child that she was willing to sacrifice her own life to have one.

And so Theodore Nott was brought into existence and a few minutes after birthing him, with
her precious baby clutched to her chest, Shelley passed away, her magic having forsaken her,
the price that the ritual ultimately demanded.

It was a small miracle Dorus hadn’t grown to resent the child. Though some of the light had
left Dorus’ eyes with the loss of his beloved wife, the love he had for his child was
unmistakable. He doted on the boy, though never really spoiling him.

Tom suspected that had he managed to do to Nott the younger what he’d done to Rodolphus
and Rabastan and many others, Dorus would have made it his mission in his remaining life to
ruin him, to see to his end. If Dumbledore had realized it, he would have had another spy
ready to sacrifice everything to see Voldemort dead for good.

But thankfully it hadn’t come to that and Tom’s relationship with Dorus wasn’t yet beyond
repair. Tom walked up to the Manor doors, taking in the well-cared for gardens. Shelley had
spent many hours seeing to them, always having had a knack for Herbology, and nowadays
the house-elves looked after them in her honour.

One such house-elf opened the doors just as Tom climbed up the steps.

“Is the Master of the house available?” Tom asked politely, “Please let him know Tom Riddle
is here to see him.”

“Mr Riddle be following Plucky,” the young elf said, stepping back to let Tom enter.
The manor’s interior hadn’t changed, Tom noted as he walked after the house-elf on the way
to Dorus’ office. Filled with marble and dark woods, but also lots of floral patterns and
paintings of far-off shores and landscapes. Not quite the dark and gloomy house one might
expect of a Death Eater, though certainly advocating pureblood pride in many small details.

“Mr Tom Riddle is being here to see you, Master Dorus,” Plucky said as she pushed open the
heavy doors to the office.

Dorus sat behind his mahogany desk, staring at them in obvious surprise. “Now there is a
name I haven’t heard in a long time. Everything all right, my Lord?”

Tom smiled and shook his head while he sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of
Dorus’ desk. “Oh yes. I’m better than I have been in many decades.”

“You look better, that’s for certain.” Dorus leaned back in his chair, looking Tom up and
down. “Plucky, bring some tea.” The elf popped out at once. Dorus went back to observing
his guest. “Nice transfiguration work.”

“You have a sharp eye still, I see,” Tom said with a slow nod. “A little transfiguration was
necessary if I am to pass as my own son. Thomas Cayden Gaunt, at your service. You may
call me…” Tom meant to say Cayden, just like he’d planned all along. But something
stopped him. Ever since he’d started calling himself by a new name all those years ago, his
life had gone to hell. Tom didn’t consider himself a superstitious person in the least, but at the
same time, why make the same mistake twice? Using a fake name hadn’t gone so well for
him in the past. Perhaps it was time to own up to his real name, just like he owned up to all
the traumas received and caused in the privacy of his own mind.

Perhaps Harry was onto something by so stubbornly calling him by his real name from day
one.

“You may call me Thomas,” Tom finally said, strangely feeling as if a weight had fallen off
his shoulders by finally owning up to his own name. “Tom for friends, of course.”

“Of course,” Dorus replied quietly, head tilted as he stared at Tom in something akin to
wonderment. “It’s good to finally see you again, Tom.” Dorus remained quiet as Plucky
served them tea, though his gaze was ever sharp. Dorus had always been a very observant
person. Once they both had steaming cups in front of them, Dorus leaned forward, eyes
narrowing. “Now do you mind telling me what the hell happened, Tom?”

Tom threw his head back and laughed. It was good to be treated as a person again, strange as
that thought was perhaps. But Dorus was someone he’d known since he was eleven and it
was somehow delightful to be seen as Tom Riddle again instead of the Dark Lord Voldemort
who tortured and killed for any and every reason. “I’d be happy to tell you, old friend, but I
need a little bit more security before I can.”

“Unbreakable Vow?” Dorus guessed.

“Not quite that drastic,” Tom said as he reached inside his robes. He pulled out a secrecy
contract he’d prepared days earlier and gave it to Dorus. With a frown of concentration,
Dorus read it, ran his wand over it, and then reached for a quill and signed it with a flourish.
He added a drop of blood and the contract briefly flashed orange to indicate it was now
active, meaning Dorus couldn’t physically discuss any of the things Tom told him that day
with anyone Tom didn’t explicitly approve of.

“Thank you,” Tom said, tucking the signed contract away in his robes. “The short answer is
horcruxes.”

Dorus’s eyes grew wide. “A horcrux? Tom, that kind of magic… wait, did you say
horcruxes? Plural?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Tom whispered, lowering his gaze, an odd sense of shame washing
over him.

“Tom,” Dorus sighed, rubbing both hands over his slightly wrinkled face. His blond hair had
gone mostly grey, but aside from those things he still looked exactly like he always had.
“Tom, you’re such a smart lad, always have been, but to make multiple horcruxes…”

"I’m aware I’m the world’s greatest fool, yes,” Tom said with a solemn nod. “I know it turned
me completely insane.”

“Well,” Dorus said with a small, almost helpless shrug. “Perhaps a little insane.”

Tom gave him a look.

“All right, yes, by the end you were very far gone and beyond reason,” Dorus conceded. “To
be honest, I thought it was a blessing in disguise, for your own sake, when you died. I’d
always wondered what the Tom Riddle I knew would think of the Dark Lord he’d eventually
become.”

Tom snorted and looked out the window. “The Tom Riddle you knew is utterly mortified,
traumatized and suffering from a mild existential crisis.”

Dorus shook with suppressed laughter for a few moments before giving in and laughing out
loud. Tom couldn’t blame him. The situation was rather absurd. “But at least the Tom Riddle
I knew is sitting in my office right now,” Dorus finally said after catching his breath. “And
that’s more than I thought I’d ever see.”

Tom grinned and downed his tea. “The short answer to that is Harry Potter.”

Dorus’ mouth sank open.

“Would you like to hear the whole story?” Tom asked, enjoying seeing his old friend so
openly shocked.

“Yes, dammit, Tom, of course.” Dorus jumped up from his chair. “Plucky, we’re moving to
the drawing room. Bring us that 1942 bottle of Ogden’s finest I have been saving.” He gave
Tom a crooked grin as he gestured for Tom to follow him. “This had best be good, Riddle, if
I’m to serve you my best whiskey.”
“Oh, trust me,” Tom said, following after his friend. “This will be the best story you’ve heard
in decades.”
 Chapter 27
Chapter Summary

Tom has lunch with his old friend, pays the Malfoys a visit, receives two gifts he's not
sure what to do with, has an epiphany of his own and is about to implode Harry's poor
head.

Chapter Notes

The next chapter, and longer, as promised! Thanks everyone for reading and
commenting. It's much appreciated! And yes, we're back to the cliffhangers. If you've
learned anything by reading this fic, you'll know I love me some cliffhangers, and this
one might just be my favourite yet. Next chapter, we'll be back with Harry again, but I'm
sure we'll have a visit again with Tom before long. I really enjoyed writing his pov and it
helped me a great deal to get back into the story again.

Chapter 27

When Tom reached the end of his tale after two and a half glasses of very good fire-whiskey,
Dorus got up from the couch and walked towards the large windows with a view of the rose
garden. He turned his back to Tom and reached for his wand to conjure a handkerchief.
“You’ve seen it, then. The beyond.” Dorus discreetly dabbed at his eyes with the
handkerchief. “It offers me a great deal of comfort to know that there is something waiting
for us. I’d had my doubts, but now I know I’ll see my Shelley again.”

Tom bowed his head for a second before offering Dorus a teasing smile. “She’ll be waiting
for you. If she’ll still have you that is. Merlin knows no one would blame the woman for
having grown tired of your snoring after forty years of putting up with it.”

Dorus cackled as he turned to look at Tom. He dabbed his eyes again, still laughing. “You are
right, of course. But I won her over once. I have good hopes I can do it again.”

Tom nodded amicably for a moment before turning serious again. “And you are right to say
that it is comforting to know there is more when our time comes.” Tom wasn’t sure what
possessed him to talk so openly about such personal matters. He’d certainly never done it
before, not even with those he once called friends. Perhaps all his talks with Harry had
softened him. In the past Tom might have called it weakened, but he was now convinced that
wasn’t true. Look at what getting rid of his emotions had done to him before. “I grew up
listening to Muggles spouting tales about heaven and hell but I never believed a word of it. I
was convinced there was nothing, that we’d simply cease to exist. It is a comfort to know
that’s not the case.”

Dorus sank back in the couch with a knowing look. “It must have bothered you a great deal if
you decided to create multiple horcruxes.”

Tom pursed his lips tightly as he stared at his knees. “I was too clever and too arrogant. And I
was stuck every summer spending months in a war that destroyed the world around me. I was
absolutely terrified I’d die before I could reach any of the true potential I knew I had.” He
looked up at Dorus, his eyes prickling. “It cost me everything. It cost many people
everything. One stupid, childish mistake, Dorus, and it almost destroyed our world.”

Dorus heaved a deep sigh. “Normally I’d say we cannot change the past, but we can learn
from it. But you’ve proven me wrong about that today, haven’t you.” Dorus gave Tom a
sharp look which he quickly softened with a smile. “You know what you’ve done wrong,
Tom. So do it right this time.”

“I’m planning to,” Tom said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“And you’ll be wanting my help?” Dorus offered, head tilted as he gave Tom an expectant
look.

“If you’re willing.”

“I am,” Dorus said, eyes narrowing just a smidge. “Under one condition.”

“I’ll leave your son alone. I swear it,” Tom said, knowing his old friend well enough, even
after all these years, to know what demand Dorus would make of him.

“Still a clever lad,” Dorus said with a chuckle “But yes, as long as you leave Theo be, I’ll be
happy to help you, old friend. With Theo at Hogwarts, I have been getting rather bored of
late, I must admit.” Dorus slapped his thighs and got up from the couch. “Stay for lunch and
I’ll fill you in on all the gossip of the Wizengamot.”

“That would be welcome.” Tom followed Dorus to the conservatory adjacent the dining
room.

“It’s a shame so many of our friends have passed already,” Dorus said once they were seated,
plates filled with finger-sandwiches and bite-sized pork pies in front of them. “Abraxas,
Rudolph, Orion. And Antonin stuck in Azkaban for the rest of his life.”

Tom nodded his agreement, and replaced the fork he’d just picked up. “I don’t know what to
do about Antonin,” he said softly but with complete sincerity. “About any of them.
Rodolphus, Rabastan, Bellatrix, Augustus, so many others.”

“You got them out in your previous life, didn’t you?” Dorus asked him calmly. “So what’s
stopping you from doing it again?”

“I’m not the Dark Lord anymore they went to Azkaban for, Dorus.” Tom gave Dorus an
almost pleading look, willing him to understand his dilemma. He’d not shared these worries
with Harry, thinking Harry could never understand, or Barty, who actually had gone to
Azkaban, however brief, but Dorus might understand. “I ruined their lives and then, after
they spent a decade having their minds destroyed by dementors, I get them out and pat them
on the shoulder and send them on their way. They’ll never accept it, and I cannot unleash
such broken extremists on our society.”

“Hmm.” Dorus leaned back in his chair, food briefly forgotten. “That is a difficult situation.
Are they all beyond help and reason?”

Tom frowned as he considered that question carefully. “Not all, perhaps. But some, like
Bellatrix, most certainly are.”

“Bellatrix was beyond reason even before you marked her, Tom,” Dorus said with a snort.
“The Black madness has got its claws deep in her since she was but a child.” Dorus shook his
head with a sad sigh. “It’s a shame Arcturus died just a few days ago. He might have been
able to use some family magics to reign her in.”

Tom doubted that very much, knowing Bellatrix the way he did, but Dorus wasn’t done
talking so he held his tongue for the moment.

“I wonder who will look after the Black estate now that old Arcturus has given up the ghost.
Perhaps Cassiopeia, or Lucius might weasel his way in using his wife’s pedigree,” Dorus
mused, examining a smoked salmon sandwich before popping it into his mouth.

“Harry is working on getting Sirius Black released from Azkaban. He stands a good chance
of succeeding, I believe, seeing as the man never even received a trial.” Tom felt a strong
sense of something warm and pleasing while he talked about Harry to his old friend. Was it
pride? Perhaps, but whatever it was, Tom didn’t think he’d felt it before. Perhaps it had
something to do with Harry essentially still being his horcrux, something similar to the way
they could share dreams. It wasn’t lucid dreaming, not yet at least, but Tom liked to think of
it as soul dreaming.

“Ah yes, Sirius Black,” Dorus said with obvious distaste. “How no one, Arcturus included,
ever thought to push for a trial for that man is a mystery. Imagine, a pure-blooded heir to an
ancient family chucked in Azkaban without even a trial.”

“Perhaps Arcturus did try. But Dumbledore wanted Sirius Black in Azkaban, and so it
happened,” Tom said matter-of-factly. “Distasteful, yes, but reality as long as that man has as
much power as he does.”

“I’m assuming you have plans to see that power destroyed at some point?” Dorus asked, not
without a certain amount of eagerness. Dorus, as a Slytherin through and through, knew well
the kind of things Dumbledore got up to that disadvantaged a whole Hogwarts House long
after they left school just because of their sorting.

“Oh yes,” Tom said, smile turning sharp, teeth bared. “Harry and I have a few things in the
works.”
“Good, good. I’m looking forward to seeing them unfold.” Dorus ate another sandwich while
Tom followed his example and bit into a pork pie. “And your friendship with Harry Potter,
now there is something entirely unexpected,” Dorus said with a grin. “Theo writes about him
often, seems to hold him in high regard, and Theo is an excellent judge of character. Takes
after his mother that way.”

Tom nodded. “Yes, it’s not something I anticipated either, but we are in this together and our
goals align for the most part.”

“And you like him,” Dorus said, ever observant.

Tom nodded again, ducking his head a little. “And I like him, that much is true. He’s a
Gryffindor in many ways, but also makes for a convincing Slytherin, surprisingly. He’s a
good ally to have, as it turns out.”

“Speaking of allies, who else are you bringing in?”

“I have no plans of sharing the truth with anyone else at this time. You, aside from Barty,
know most everything. I only told Severus the bare minimum since I need him to guard
Harry at Hogwarts.” Tom sipped his tea, organizing his thoughts for a moment. “I plan to tell
Lucius nothing about my second chance. He’ll have to make do with the notion that I came
back much improved. I’m meeting with him this afternoon.”

Dorus perked up. “Ah, but to be a fly on the wall…”

“Do you want to come?”

“Tom, you are spoiling me,” Dorus said with a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, of course I want to
come. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much excitement.”

“I’m sure,” Tom said with an amused shake of his head. He couldn’t deny the fact that talking
to an old friend as though no time had passed was entertaining and pleasant. “Now, I do
believe you promised me gossip. Where is it?”

“Oh yes,” Dorus said, sitting up a little straighter. “You will not believe what old Tiberius
Ogden said when Aloysius Greengrass proposed that new tax cut for purebloods.”

And with that, Dorus was off, regaling Tom with all the happenings at the Wizengamot over
the last decade. Some of it Tom already knew from his previous life and from perusing old
Daily Prophets in his current one, but Dorus had always had a knack for knowing a lot of
juicy little details that didn’t make into the paper.

After lunch was finished and Dorus excused himself for a few minutes to freshen up, Tom
apparated them to his home to pick up Barty.

“But this is a fine Manor House,” Dorus said, admiring the entrance hall. “Muggle, you can
still tell that much, but full of potential.”

“Yes, I thought so, too,” Tom said just as Barty joined them. “Dorus insisted he come.”
“Theodorus,” Barty said with a cool little nod.

“Bartemius,” Dorus replied with a pleasant smile. “Ah, I do apologize. Bartholomew, of

course. Nice transfiguration work.”

“Barty will do,” Barty said with a sigh.

“If you two are quite done,” Tom said, though he was amused to see the two people, aside
from Harry, he considered real friends getting some playful jabs in. “The Malfoys are
expecting us.” Tom made short work of leading his friends, because that is what he would
call them from then on he decided, beyond the wards before side-apparating them both to
Malfoy Manor. The gates opened for them without prompting since they were expected, and
they took in the highly manicured lawns and hedges while they walked to the manor. The
gardens were picture perfect, albino peacocks and all, but they still lacked something
personable that made the gardens around Nott manor so welcoming.

The doors opened to reveal a house-elf Tom was convinced was the very elf that Harry had
tricked Lucius into releasing once upon a time. The same elf who ended up saving Harry’s
life, getting him away from Malfoy Manor and Voldemort’s clutches while sacrificing his
own life in the process.

“Master’s guests be following Dobby to the reception room,” the elf said, and now Tom knew
without a doubt this was essentially Harry’s elf. He recalled Harry complaining at some point
that as the events of his second year, the whole affair with the diary horcrux, wouldn’t come
to pass this time, Harry probably also wouldn’t get an opportunity to release Dobby from the
Malfoys’ dubious care. Tom had already decided on a Yule gift for Harry, had started on it
some time ago, but perhaps he would give his little soulmate a second gift.

Lucius and Narcissa stood in their second best reception room awaiting their guests. A
deliberate ploy to show that while they welcomed any new potential businesses they might
invest in, they were very clear that said business owners were beneath the might and wealth
of the Malfoys. It was how purebloods like Lucius and Dorus made their money and added to
their fortunes. They invested in any and all businesses that operated in the wizarding world.
Only a fool would go to the goblins for a loan, seeing as their terms were lethal, quite literally
if one renegaded on it. No, for ordinary people who weren’t born into wealth, like Tom in his
youth, to start a business, the only way to go about that was to find a wealthy investor to help
get everything off the ground. Rent, stock, staff, it all cost money before a business was even
up and running, and people like Lucius or Dorus provided that money for a part ownership of
the business.

It was for that reason that Lucius and Narcissa so eagerly welcomed what they thought were
strangers into their home, seeing as they were always happy to add to their already enormous
pile of gold.

“Master’s guests be here,” Dobby said as he led them into the reception room.

Lucius took one look at Tom, inhaled a sharp breath, and dropped to his knees. Tom knew his
dark mark must be burning, seeing as Tom wasn’t shielding his magic very much at that time,
just so Lucius would feel who he was. “My Lord,” Lucius breathed, forehead pressed to the
floor. Dobby the house-elf popped away just as Narcissa, who wasn’t marked, realized who
she was facing. But before she lowered herself to the floor, Tom gestured at her to stay on her
feet.

“There is no need for that, Lucius, Narcissa,” Tom said with a stern look, which he followed
up with a friendly smile. “I’m not quite the Dark Lord you remember. Please, Lucius, rise.
Let’s have this conversation like civilised people, with tea and biscuits.”

Tom didn’t think he’d ever seen Lucius gape before, but gape he did as he slowly got to his
feet. Beside him, Dorus chuckled, already enjoying the show. Barty was giving Lucius the
stink eye, never having cared much for Lucius’ arrogance and pretension.

“My Lord, how…why…please, do sit down,” Lucius said, remembering his manners as he
visibly collected himself. Narcissa gestured at the most opulent chair in the room, usually
meant for the master of the house, with a tight smile.

“Thank you,” Tom said, lowering himself into the chair, still smiling at his hosts. “Please,
everyone, have a seat.”

Narcissa called an elf, not Dobby, Tom noted, to order tea. So they still had more elves than
just the one Harry had bonded with. Good. That meant Tom wouldn’t have to feel guilty for
what he planned to do. Besides, it wouldn’t do to leave the people you were trying to butter
up without any domestic help. That’s not how friends were made, even Tom knew that. Tea
was served while Dorus and Barty sat on the settee next to Tom’s place, usually meant for the
lady of the house, while Lucius and Narcissa were left with the chairs meant for guests,
which they occupied without comment, still too shocked to see the Dark Lord alive and well
sitting in their second best reception room.

“My Lord, I beg of you,” Lucius said, looking very much like he wanted to fall on his knees
again, probably worried he was about to receive a handful of cruciatus curses for his
perceived betrayal after he bought his way out of a lengthy prison sentence following
Voldemort temporary defeat. “Tell us how you have returned to us. I assure you, my Lord, I
have looked and listened to learn of your –“

“Yes, thank you, Lucius,” Tom said, having already sat through Lucius’ sucking up once in
his previous life after he returned. No need to do it again. “How I returned is irrelevant at this
time. Just know that the ritual that I used has much improved me. Before my disappearance, I
had experimented with magic that had unforeseen side-effects. My mind, my ability to
reason, my common sense…I’m afraid to say all of those faculties had been severely
diminished over time. But I’m glad I can tell you I have made a complete recovery.”

“That is most welcome news, my Lord,” Narcissa said, her tight smile loosening up a tiny bit.
“The Malfoy family is, as ever, at your service.”

“My thanks, Narcissa. I believe you will be relieved to learn that there won’t be another war,”
Tom said, taking in Lucius’ shocked reaction and Narcissa’s pleased one. “In hindsight, the
price we paid was too high. So many people dead, so many families lost. It was never my
intention to see so many magical people gone forever, no matter their blood status. The
wizarding world needs witches and wizards to occupy it. What kind of victory would it be if
there is hardly anyone alive to live in the new world we wanted to create?”

Narcissa gave a thoughtful nod while Lucius still seemed mostly shocked, as though he still
couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. “Will you be focusing on politics more, my
Lord?” Narcissa, ever the sharp witch, asked politely. Her smile had again become a little
warmer.

“Yes. I have created a new identity for myself, as my own illegitimate son, Thomas Gaunt.
Barty and myself have started a warding and curse-breaking business together, and we’ll use
it to network, make connections, and start gaining allies. I have a Wizengamot seat lined up,
hopefully, not too far into the future, so I’ll make a name for myself in the political arena that
way.”

“Most ingenious,” Narcissa said with a regal nod.

“You both will have many parts to play in the future, but there is one thing you can help me
with right now,” Tom said, leaning forward in his chair a little while he stared Lucius down.
“I have need of a house-elf. The young one who opened the door for us, I’d like to purchase
him.”

“What?” Barty demanded, sounding genuinely hurt. “But you have Winky.”

“No, Barty, you have Winky. She is an excellent elf, but she is yours, as she should remain,”
Tom quickly assured his friend.

“Tom, if you needed an elf, you should have said so,” Dorus said before Barty could reply,
“Young Plucky is ready to go to a home of her own, now that she’s all trained up. In fact, let
me…”

“Now see here,” Lucius said loudly, seeing an opportunity he had to curry favour with his
Lord going up in smoke. “Theodorus, our Lord asked this of me!”

“Plucky!” Said elf popped in, looking around in confusion. “Plucky, we discussed finding
you a Master of your own, remember?” Dorus patiently but with haste explained to his elf.
“Well, Master Tom here needs an elf. How would you like to be his elf?”

“Dobby!” Lucius bellowed. “DOBBY!” A cowering house-elf appeared. “Dobby!” Lucius

said, poking the elf in the ribs with that ridiculous cane of his. “You now belong to the Dark
Lord. As your Master, so I decree.” With those ritual words the deed was done.

“Plucky, you now belong to Master Tom. As your Master, so I decree.”

Two pairs of large, luminous eyes stared at Tom expectantly, one filled with no small amount
of trepidation, while the other seemed happy enough with the idea of having a new Master.

There were moments Tom missed being Voldemort, being able to torture his followers just
because he felt like it. Right then was such a moment, Tom wasn’t ashamed to admit. He’d
meant to get one elf as a present for Harry, and now he had two, one of which he had to keep
for himself lest he insult his oldest friend by rejecting his generous gift. Tom had never cared
much for house-elves. He didn’t mind them, not in the least, and he appreciated what elves
like Winky did for him, but to Tom house-elves had always been symbols of everything Tom
didn’t have growing up. Wealth, power, family, magic. Hence why Tom had never bothered
getting one of his own and had always discouraged his followers from gifting him one,
though many had suggested it.

Tom cleared his throat. There was only one way to respond to this, seeing as torture was off
the table these days. “Dobby, Plucky, I declare you my house-elves.” A burst of warm magic
coursed through Tom briefly, the bond with his house-elves springing to life. “Go to your
new home and ask Winky, Barty’s elf who lives there, to show you around. She can set you to
work in the gardens to start with. They need a lot of work.” Two quiet pops followed Tom’s
first command to his new elves. “Thank you, Dorus. Lucius, I offered to purchase –“

“No, my Lord, I will not hear of it. The elf is a gift,” Lucius said with a firm nod while side-
eying Dorus. With Dorus gifting Tom an elf, Lucius couldn’t very well take up Tom’s offer of
money without losing favour and face.

“Thank you. Your gifts are much appreciated,” Tom said with what he hoped was a pleasant
smile, while inwardly wondering what the hell he was going to do with two elves, at least for
the time being. Yule was still well over a month away. Harry had best appreciate Tom’s
efforts. “Now let me fill you in on my immediate plans.”

The rest of the afternoon Tom spent explaining the parts he expected Lucius and Narcissa to
play in the coming weeks and months as Tom and Barty were ready to announce their
existence publicly through their amazing recovery of Ravenclaw’s diadem. Lucius in turn
suggested witches and wizards he could set Tom and Barty up with for some networking
opportunities through their new business venture. And with the help of Dorus they discussed
which members of the Wizengamot they might gain as allies in the future, who needed
threatening or bribing, and who needed to be removed from power over time, Dumbledore
being the most obvious one.

Near the end of the afternoon Narcissa discreetly inquired what their Lord’s plans were
concerning Harry Potter, probably worried her son might have to be involved in any future
plots since he roomed with their Lord’s adversary. Tom assured them he had no plans
regarding the boy other than approaching him at some point in the future for an alliance for
which he already had plans in motion. That was all Lucius and Narcissa needed to know at
that point about his relationship with Harry, Tom had decided.

Before they left, Tom had both Lucius and Narcissa sign a secrecy contract to ensure they
couldn’t inform anyone of Thomas Gaunt’s true identity, which they both did without
comment. Lucius was probably still in a minor state of shock that he hadn’t been on the
receiving end of the cruciatus curse at least once.

Dorus went to his own home, exclaiming he hadn’t had this much fun in at least a decade,
and Tom looked forward to a quiet dinner, a nice hot bath and talking to his little soulmate
before bed. It still amazed him from time to time how well he had relearned to appreciate the
small things in life over the last few months.
After dinner, as Tom got ready to undress in his bedroom, Winky popped in carrying several
towels.

“If Master Tom is being unhappy with Winky, he should be saying such things to Winky.”

Tom sighed. Merlin, now there was house-elf drama to deal with. How did people get
anything done without subjugating those around them with torture and pain, Tom still had
trouble comprehending. “Winky,” Tom said softly as Winky rather violently shoved the
towels into Tom’s wardrobe on the shelve holding his woollen jumpers where they definitely
didn’t belong. “You are an amazing elf and I appreciate everything you do. But in the end,
you are Barty’s elf, and Barty will most likely decide to strike out on his own sometime in the
future. And then I’d be lost without you.”

Winky gave him a narrow-eyed look and made a tiny ‘umph’ sound.

“And there is no elf I trust more to train my new elves than you, Winky. We desperately need
your help in this. Dobby and Plucky are good elves, but they still have lots to learn. Please
teach them, Winky.” Tom finished with his kindest smile and most pleading look.

Winky twisted a corner of her flowery pillow-case between her spindly fingers. “Yes, Winky
can be training the new elves. Winky will be teaching them.”

“Thank you, Winky.” The moment Winky popped out his bedroom Tom ran a tired hand
down his face and went to fill his bathtub.

Once he had soaked for half an hour while going over the events of that day in his mind and
was dressed in his pyjamas, Tom climbed into bed with a book on Scandinavian warding
used in the time of the Norsemen and their conquest through Europe some thousand years
ago. A terribly interesting subject but unfortunately the author wrote in terribly dry prose. So
dry, it took even Tom more than a few days to work his way through the thing.

The mirror on his nightstand glowed and Tom immediately snapped the book shut to pick it
up. “Good evening, my dear. How was your day?” Tom said, taking in Harry’s flustered face.
What on earth had the boy so nervous? Had something happened?

“I’m fine. My day was fine. Was your day fine?” Harry mumbled more than spoke, barely
meeting Tom’s eyes. Yes, something was definitely up.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Tom asked with a quirked brow. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Harry said, finally looking at Tom with a defiant glare. “I couldn’t
help it, okay? You shouldn’t spring your naked wetness on people like that. People have
responses, that’s normal. That doesn’t mean anything.”

So much had happened that day that it took Tom a moment to even remember what Harry
was talking about. Such a warm burst of fondness filled Tom at seeing Harry’s flushed cheeks
and burning eyes. He’d never tell the boy, but sometimes Tom missed Harry’s round glasses
and short, messy hair. It had given him such an adorably scruffy appearance. But Tom only
understood too well about the need to separate oneself from one’s father, so he didn’t remark
on Harry’s makeover. “Soulmate, take a deep breath,” Tom said with a teasing smile. “You’re
not the first one to have such a response to my naked wetness, as you call it, nor will you be
the last. It’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine,” Harry said, eyes narrowing. “Wait, what do you mean with other people
seeing your naked wetness?”

Tom briefly closed his eyes in amusement. Was Harry jealous? What for? If wasn’t as if Tom
had plans to date anyone. He barely managed to keep himself on his broomstick these days,
mentally speaking. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was interested in anyone.

“Tom? You all right?” Harry asked, annoyance quickly replaced with concern as Tom didn’t
reply to him for more than a minute.

Tom couldn’t reply because he just had the most ridiculous realization that utterly shut his
brain down.

Only many years, decades even, of practice kept Tom from showing any of the shock he felt
on his face. He slowly opened his eyes and looked calmly, blankly, at the eleven-year-old-boy
he’d just realized he was infatuated with.

Screw all those ridiculous self-help books and their advice of meeting your emotions head on
and tackling them then and there. Tom shoved this revelation he just had behind the strongest
Occlumency shields he had, to probably deal with sometime next century.

He had no clue what to do with this information. He had never been infatuated with anyone,
save perhaps for himself. He’d never had these kind of feelings before, these strange bursts of
warmth at the most ridiculous times, merely because he thought about his little soulmate.
What did one do in such situation? Tom immediately understood there wasn’t a self-help
book in the world that could help him with any of it. Their situation was too unique. Harry
was an eighteen-year-old stuck in a child’s body and Tom had spent decades certifiably
insane and he was old enough to be Harry’s grandfather. Not to mention the fact they’d tried
to kill each other, one had succeeded and the other had wiped out half the wizarding world,
including the first one’s entire immediate family.

Where did one even start unravelling that emotional mess enough for there to be a chance of
any sort of intimate relationship at some point in the future?

Tom slammed his Occlumency shields down as hard as he could. “I’m fine, my dear, and I
was just teasing you. I’ve had a busy day, so do forgive me if my mind wanders.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said with a relieved smile, anger quickly forgotten. The boy had a temper
as Tom had learned, but he was also capable of turning his emotions around at a moment’s
notice. “So what did you do today?”

“I reconnected with an old friend, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of.” And Tom spend the next
ten minutes telling Harry about his day.
“So who are you going to align yourself with?” Harry asked, having listened patiently to
Tom’s recounting of his day spent with Dorus, Barty and the Malfoys.

“Lucius had some suggestions, some which seem obvious, but others I’m not sure about. I’d
like to hear your opinion, my dear,” Tom said, mind focused on the topic at hand and not on
any new feelings that he may or may not have.

“Sure,” Harry said, looking eager to share his thoughts.

Tom smiled at his soulmate’s willingness to help. “How would you feel about forming an
alliance with a witch named Dolores Umbridge?”
 Chapter 28
Chapter Summary

Harry implodes, starts a student club, and basks in his victory before it all goes to shit.

Chapter Notes

Yes, another chapter. I firmly believe one should write while the writing is good, and
right now it's going well. I'd apologize for the cliffhanger, but I'm not actually sorry.
Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out soon and you won't all have to wait very long to
see what happens next.

Thank you so much for your response to this story. I'm still completely overwhelmed
and humbled and I read appreciate all your comments. Thanks so much!

Chapter 28

Such a vast well of sheer hatred opened up inside of Harry at hearing that name that it
literally took his breath away. His throat constricted, his breath shuddered, and the back of his
right hand burned with words that hadn’t been carved into his flesh, not this life, but Harry
felt them all the same.

“Harry?” Tom sounded miles away and Harry could barely make out his voice through the
ringing in his ears. “Harry, tell me what’s wrong, please.”

The mirror in Harry’s hand cracked, a sharp line bisecting Tom’s handsome face.

“Harry, darling, please calm down.” Tom’s eyes were wide, his face pale, but Harry hardly
noticed it, so overwhelmed he felt with the hatred coursing through him.

“No,” Harry managed to say, softer almost than a whisper.

“Sweetheart, please, take a deep breath,” Tom pleaded.

Harry tried, he tried so hard to breathe, but all he felt was cold, as though the dozen
dementors that dear Dolores had used in her courtroom during her horrifying muggleborn
trials were suddenly descending on Harry right there in the Slytherin dormitory.

“Harry, what did that witch do to you?” Tom rambled, voice as close to panicking as Harry
had ever heard it. “Lucius said she’s the new Undersecretary to Fudge who recently got
elected. I know she was involved at Hogwarts during our previous life and worked at the
Ministry afterwards, but that is all I know, I swear it, Harry, darling, please breathe.”

Harry managed a snort and finally, a shallow, wheezing breath. “No,” he repeated, voice a
little louder now but still terribly quiet. “Never.”

“That’s fine. It doesn’t matter, she isn’t important, Lucius merely suggested it since she’s
openly opposed to Dumbledore.”

“I’d sooner work with Dumbledore than her,” Harry said with absolute conviction, shocking
Tom into silence for a few moments.

“Well, that certainly puts things in perspective,” Tom finally managed to say. “I’m sorry I
inadvertently upset you this much, my dear. That certainly wasn’t my intention. If you’re
willing to share what happened I’m happy to listen.”

Harry considered that while he took another deep breath, this one flowing a little easier now.
A very large part of him wanted to simply forget about Umbridge, about her reign of terror
during his fifth year, about all the pain she caused him, but Harry knew by now that didn’t
help matters. Talking about his traumas was good, even though it seemed a unique kind of
torture all on its own, at least at first.

“She taught Defence in our fifth year,” Harry said, gaze fixed on the back of his right hand
where the skin was smooth but Harry could feel words engraved nonetheless. “She refused to
teach any real magic and had it out for me. She made me use –“ Harry stopped talking, doubt
taking over his mind. Why was he making such a big deal about Umbridge’s silly little quill?
Much worse things had happened that year than Harry ending up with some hideous new
scar; Sirius dying came to mind.

“Sweetheart, please talk. I want to know,” Tom whispered, blue eyes pleading.

“She had it out for me because I kept saying Voldemort was back and the Ministry was firmly
in denial. She gave me detention almost every day of the week for months and months and
she made me use this black quill while I had to write ‘I must not tell lies’ and the quill used
my blood to write it with and carved those words into the back of my hand.” Harry held up
his right hand as though that offered some kind of proof, but of course there was no scar there
now. “After a while, those words wouldn’t go away and I got a shiny new scar.”

Tom’s expression had gone rigid, eyes burning with something Harry couldn’t identify.

“Umbridge also was the head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission and somehow
she got her hands on your locket horcrux, so we had to break into the ministry to steal it and
there were dementors and she was sending all these innocent muggleborns to their deaths and
it was a mess getting out of the ministry and Ron got splinched and Grimmauld Place was no
longer safe and we ended up in a tent.”

When Tom didn’t respond for a long time, Harry finally glanced up at him. Tom’s expression
still looked carved from stone. “I see,” Tom finally whispered. “I swear to you, my dear, I
had no idea. Yaxley took care of all the staffing at the Ministry and he spoke well of her,
which, in hindsight, should have told me enough this afternoon when Lucius suggested her. I
do apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, the burning hatred having lessened significantly. “Just don’t ask me to
deal with her. Ever.”

“I promise. Like I said, she’s unimportant. There are plenty of other witches and wizards who
can help us further our plans.” Tom’s voice was soothing, but his gaze was still hard as
granite.

“I’m tired,” Harry said honestly. He was tired, the adrenaline that had briefly coursed through
him leaving sheer exhaustion in its wake.

“Of course. Get some sleep, my dear. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Only then did Harry really notice the crack in the mirror’s glass. “Crap,” he said, a mild burst
of panic filling him. He didn’t like the idea of not having his mirror, of not being able to talk
to Tom anymore. “I broke the mirror.”

“Just use a reparo for now, that should work since it’s powered mostly by runes,” Tom
suggested with a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll look it over when you visit during
the Yule holiday in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Tomorrow.” Harry didn’t trust himself to cast a successful Lumos just
then, let alone use magic on his precious mirror. “Good night, Tom.”

“Sleep well, Harry.”

Sound advice, if only Harry could sleep. But he lay on his back, staring at the curtains around
and above him, yet sleep wouldn’t come, his mind far too awake after being reminded of all
of Umbridge’s special kinds pain and suffering. So in the end Harry admitted defeat and, tired
though he was, grabbed a book from his nightstand. It turned out to be Hogwarts’ book of
rules and regulations. Perhaps that was exactly the kind of dry material that might put him to
sleep, Harry mused.

It wasn’t. In fact, it was so far removed from dry and boring that before long Harry took out a
self-inking quill and a notebook and started taking notes. Everything was discussed, from
how student admissions were determined to what kind of detentions were appropriate and
how the Heads of Houses were to keep from favouring their own house when awarding or
retracting house points. Harry was terribly amused to realize Snape regularly broke these
regulations with his manipulation of the house point system.

There was also a chapter on student initiatives. There was a possibility to start a Board of
Students, something akin to the Board of Governors in that they had a say in how Hogwarts
was run when it came to new classes or what types of sports were being offered and much
more. Students had to be elected for it through student campaigns though and had to be at
least in their third year to join. Harry wondered if there currently was a Board of Students
seeing as he’d never heard of it in his previous life. Still, it might be worth starting such a
thing in his third year. He made a note in what he’d privately dubbed his Book of Plans,
capital letters and all.

Another thing the chapter discussed were Student Clubs, which piqued Harry’s interest at
once since there was no age limit. Everyone could start a club on just about any topic, as long
as it was legal Harry imagined. They’d either had to get the permission from their own Head
of House and the headmaster, or from three of the four Heads of Houses. Harry had no
intention of involving Dumbledore if he could help it, but he was sure he could convince
Snape, Sprout and Flitwick to support his new club. He’d rather not involve McGonagall
since she was too close to Dumbledore for Harry’s liking.

This was the perfect way to start introducing rituals and traditions back into the Hogwarts
curriculum, Harry decided. He did realize he had to be careful in how he worded his request.
He knew from listening to Theo and Blaise, and to some extent some of his other
pureblooded friends like Neville and Ernie, that the idea of reintroducing such things was
frowned upon by a large chunk of their society.

So it couldn’t be an outright Traditions Club. It had to be something a little more subtle but
which would still give them the opportunity to talk about the forbidden subjects and educate
themselves and others.

Harry decided to sleep on it, as it was well past three in the morning and his mind had been
cleared of thoughts about his least favourite person in the entire world. Harry snorted to
himself for thinking of Umbridge that way, but he also knew it to be true. He really, truly,
deeply hated that witch in ways he’d never hated Voldemort and didn’t even hate
Dumbledore, and he couldn’t stand the old goat these days.

Sleep did come while Harry pondered how to go about organizing his new student club, and
in the morning, even though he hadn’t had much sleep, Harry felt refreshed. He repaired his
mirror without any problems and much to his relief, and got dressed with a small spring in his
step, glad to have something new to keep his mind focussed on.

“Morning,” Theo greeted him as he strolled out of the bathroom. “You seem chipper. Had
some nice dreams?”

Harry paused for a moment while putting on a sock. Now that Theo mentioned it, Harry
hadn’t had a particularly nice dream. Meaning he hadn’t shared his dreams with Tom like
they usually did since Tom got his body back. How come? Was it because Harry went to
sleep at such a late hour? Had Tom not been asleep yet or had he already woken up before
Harry managed to dream with him?

“Morning, Theo,” Harry finally replied when Theo was looking at him in quiet amusement at
Harry’s distracted demeanour. “And I’m chipper because I got a new plan. I’ll let you all
know in the library later today.”

“Sure,” Theo said with a quick nod before he went back to getting ready for the day.

It was a Thursday, and that meant a full day of Defence, History and double Transfiguration
in the afternoon. DADA was a practical in which they practiced the Tarantallegra and a few
other beginner jinxes and hexes, and even though Harry could do those in his sleep he still
enjoyed the class which flew by. Harry used history to carefully consider how to go about
structuring his new club and by the end of the class he had a working plan. And during
Transfiguration they practiced turning beetles into buttons and back, which bored Harry to no
end, until McGonagall all but dared him to make as creative a button as Harry could manage.
Challenge accepted! Harry had to remember he was supposed to be a first year, so he held
himself back appropriately, but he still ended up with a large button that had images of
Hogwarts castle engraved in it with subtly different colours adding to the display.
McGonagall gave him ten points for it, plus a rather proud smile.

As usual, Harry and his friends met up in the library after classes were over. Since they didn’t
have that much time until dinner Harry decided to share his new plan before anyone even got
their books out to do their homework.

“I have an idea,” Harry announced and at once all eyes were on him. “I’m muggle-raised, as
you know, and I keep coming up against things I don’t know in our world,” Harry said
carefully, having gone over his little speech a few times during History. “And I know I’m not
the only one.” Harry gave Justin a significant look, who replied with a vigorous nod. “Aunt
Petunia has told me what she knows, but she’s a muggle and there’s plenty she doesn’t know.
So I propose a club.”

“What kind of club?” Susan asked curiously. Beside her, Blaise got a very knowing smile on
his face. Theo had a similar expression but he just hid it better.

“A club where we can exchange knowledge amongst ourselves. The purebloods can teach the
muggle-raised about the wizarding world, and the muggle-raised in turn can tell the
purebloods about the muggle world. I’ve heard Muggle Studies is terribly outdated and
doesn’t really go into cultural things, which is where Muggles have lots of interesting things
to share.”

“Star Wars,” Justin breathed reverently.

“Exactly,” Harry said, though he had no clue what Star Wars really was, other than movies
he’d heard Justin talk about a time or two.

“What are you going to call your new club?” Hannah asked eagerly. She seemed onboard
with Harry’s plan, as did the rest of his friends.

“It’s going to be an official club, and I’m hoping to have Snape, Sprout and Flitwick sponsor
us.” Harry frowned. “I haven’t come up with a name yet. Kinda stuck there.”

“Hm,” Daphne said thoughtfully, exchanging a look with Tracey. “The Wizarding Muggle
Cultural Exchange Club.”

“That’s very long,” Neville said, looking as though he was genuinely worried he might never
remember it all. “How about Culture Club?”

Justin snorted and softly started humming a little tune under his breath. Harry had no idea
why, but he ignored Justin and smiled at Neville. “I like it. All in favour?”
There was a chorus of agreements, even from Justin, and Harry went about writing a few
notes to send off to ask for appointments with the appropriate Heads of Houses. After that he
got started on writing up the official proposal for the Culture Club and soon enough Neville,
Daphne and Theo offered their help with wording the whole thing.

That evening Harry spoke to Tom, and he was happy to note that their relationship was back
to normal. Harry’s brief Umbridge episode hadn’t spoiled anything permanently, and while
Tom apologized yet again, Harry waved it away, having made a full recovery. Harry was also
happy to note that Tom made no more remarks about Harry’s obvious responses to his naked
wetness, and it seemed that Tom’s gentle teasing from the previous evening was all he was
going to do about it, for which Harry was inexplicably filled with both happiness and
disappointment. Tom complimented him on his ambition to start a student club and to start up
a Board of Students in a few years, and Harry went to sleep feeling warm with Tom’s
approval before falling into a wonderful shared dream that was filled with feelings of care,
comfort and safety.

Snape was the first to respond to Harry’s request for a meeting. He simply ordered Harry to
stay behind after Potions the next day.

“Potter,” Snape said with the expected sneer. “I received your missive. What do you want?”

“Yes, Sir. I would like for you to sponsor my new student club. We’re calling it the Culture
Club, Sir, and it’s about – “

Snape cut him off by holding out his hand and giving Harry an impatient look.

It took Harry a moment to realize what Snape meant and he quickly dug through the correct
folder in his bookbag to pull out the student club proposal. Snape snatched it from his hand,
read it over with a perfectly blank expression, grabbed a quill and signed it before shoving it
back in Harry’s hands. “Now get out.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Harry beamed and rushed out the room to where his friends were
waiting for him in the hallway. “Got the first one,” Harry said with a huge grin, waving the
proposal in their faces.

Saturday started with an insufferable Draco, since Pomfrey had finally managed to reverse
transfigure his ears back to normal. Draco strutted around as if he’d personally won the
Quidditch Cup, but he didn’t dare make another comment about Harry’s unfortunate
Quidditch injury and in the end that was all Harry wanted. Lesson learned and all that.

Flitwick invited Harry to come to his office that afternoon and Harry dragged Theo, Hannah,
Justin and Neville along. A nice representation of students from different backgrounds and
houses.

“I’m intrigued,” Flitwick said after having read Harry’s proposal. “But not yet convinced of
the necessity of such a club.” Flitwick offered them a beaming smile. “So, convince me.”

It was Justin, surprisingly, who managed it when he started talking. “It’s the little things that
we as muggle-raised kids don’t know about, Professor,” Justin said with utmost sincerity.
“The other day I had a small stain on my tie and I used a handkerchief and some soap and
water to get it off. Zacharias Smith laughed in my face about how stupid I was to do it by
hand until Cedric Diggory told him off and taught me a simple cleaning charm. The kind
that’s not in our Charms book.”

Flitwick nodded seriously and made a little note on a scrap of parchment. “I might add a few
simple household charms to the curriculum later this year to rectify this. In any case, you
have my sponsorship.” And with that Flitwick signed the proposal.

Sunday Harry took all his friends to see Sprout in her office. She was the kind of woman who
lived by the idea of the more the merrier and she happily conjured chairs for all of them and
stuffed them with tea and small chocolate cakes while she listened patiently to Harry’s
explanations of why they wanted to start a new club.

“I’m very happy to see you all working together like this and I applaud you for your
initiative, Mr Potter. Your parents would be so proud.” And with a kind smile and shining
eyes she added her signature and Harry’s student club was officially approved.

They celebrated their success in the kitchens where the house-elves had more treats waiting
for them and afterwards they walked it all off by taking a stroll around the lake while they
discussed ideas for lessons to use in their club. Official clubs had to be announced by putting
up a flyer on the message board of every common room and Daphne, Tracey, Susan and
Hannah offered to take care of that part. Harry was happy to let them since he was busy
putting together somewhat coherent lesson plans for the first few months.

They decided to meet Friday evenings in an empty classroom since they had Friday
afternoons off and this way their meeting wouldn’t get in the way of any last minute
homework that needed doing.

Later that evening Harry proudly held up the signed proposal for Tom to admire when he
mirror-called his soulmate.

“Well done, my dear,” Tom said with a warm smile, and he even managed a very small round
of applause without dropping his mirror. “Are you all set with lesson plans?”

“I’m getting there. Everyone had lots of ideas, and I’m using Regulus’ notes to slip in
information about rituals and traditions that people might no longer know about without it
being obvious they are being taught.”

“That does seem to be the best way to go about teaching those subjects, at least for now,”
Tom agreed with a nod.

“Yeah, exactly.” Harry basked in his small and unknowing victory over Dumbledore for a
moment before he gave Tom an expectant look. “And what have you been up to lately?
We’ve only talked about my club these last few days.”

“Ah, I think you’ll be happy to hear Barty and myself are ready to spring our trap on your old
friend Lockhart this week. Right after that we can publicly announce our presence.”
Harry perked up. “I want all the details. Seriously. I want to see Lockhart’s face when he gets
dragged away by Aurors. Do you have a pensieve? Or know anyone with a pensieve?”

Tom laughed at Harry’s eagerness. “I don’t, but Dorus has one. I’m sure he’ll let us use it
over the Yule holidays.”

“Yes!” Harry all but crowed. “I’ll trade you your memory of Lockhart getting his
comeuppance for my memory of Dumbledore’s face when he sees you in the Prophet later
this week.”

“Deal,” Tom said at once, looking just as elated as Harry felt.

Focussing on getting the Culture Club off the ground the previous week had given Harry
enough distractions to not think too much about his growing attraction to Tom, but at that
moment Harry had to admit that attraction was still there, was perhaps transforming into
more than merely a physical response to Tom’s stupidly handsome face.

Not that it changed anything, Harry knew. For the next five years or so nothing could happen,
end of story, no matter how much that idea started frustrating Harry these days. And imagine,
Harry’s young body hadn’t even entered puberty yet. Harry did not want to know how he was
going to feel once his hormones took over in one or two years.

“You all right, my dear?” Tom asked him when Harry was lost in thought.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a smile that was both filled with happiness and wistfulness. “Just
basking in our success.”

“We have been on a roll lately, haven’t we?” Tom said, not without a decent amount of
smugness. “I do like it when a plan comes together.”

Of course, that was the moment Harry should have realized they’d just jinxed their own
success. There couldn’t only be good things without some bad things happening, as Harry
had learned very early on in his life. Harry found a full, closed bag of chocolate croissants in
the bakery’s dumpster on his way to school? That meant that Harry might have one or two
before inevitably Dudley found them and ate the rest. See? Something good was always
followed by something bad. Story of Harry’s entire fucking life.

In this case, the bad thing made itself known during breakfast the next morning. As was usual
on Mondays, most of the student population had a hard time feeling awake enough for
another week of classes and barely paid attention to the news, but that morning something
had most students all excited.

Harry opened his copy of the Daily Prophet while he ate his breakfast and almost choked on
his bite of sausage when he saw Umbridge’s face staring at him from the front page.

“She looks like a toad,” Blaise observed as he peeked at the paper. “What a face to put in the
paper first thing in the morning.”

“She killed someone,” Theo added, doing the same thing.

Harry stared and stared until he could finally make sense of the letters and words surrounding
Umbridge’s hideous features.

‘Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge Arrested For Murder Of Lucinda Snow’

“Who is Lucinda Snow?” Blaise wondered out loud, while Harry quietly wondered the same
thing. The name sounded familiar and Harry was certain he’d heard it somewhere recently,
but he couldn’t remember where.

“Isn’t that your stalker?” Theo asked quietly as he glanced at Harry.

“My what?” Harry looked at Theo with wide, uncertain eyes.

“The one that sent you the love potions,” Theo said with a significant look.

“Oh, that one,” Blaise replied with a chuckle as he returned to his breakfast, already moving
on from the day’s news. “Well, no loss there.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. Why the fuck would Umbridge murder Harry’s love potion stalker
witch? Even though he didn’t want to admit it, Harry knew the answer. Umbridge didn’t kill
Harry’s love potion stalker witch.

Tom did.
 Chapter 29
Chapter Summary

Harry has his worst week yet, but receives some unexpected words of wisdom from an
old friend. Also, the
Culture Club has its first meeting.

Chapter Notes

Thanks for your wonderful and overwhelming response! I got this chapter out in a day,
but I cannot promise the next one will be written just as fast. I'll try to get it out just after
the weekend.

Chapter 29

Harry had never been so happy in his life they had history first thing in the morning on
Mondays. He excused himself to his friends, not really giving a reason, just saying he had
something urgent to take care of. Without waiting for a reply, and counting on Binns’
inability to remember what year it was, let alone knowing which individual students he was
supposed to teach, Harry rushed to the Room of Requirement.

He wasn’t angry, not really. Maybe a little bit. Mostly he felt tired to the bone about having to
worry about Tom and what he got up to on any given day over and over again.

Harry thought about the drawing room in Grimmauld Place while he asked the room for a
place to have a private conversation and that was exactly what he got when he opened the
door and slipped inside. He sank down in a leather chair, released a deep, deep sigh, ran his
hands over his face and got his mirror out of his pocket.

Tom answered after half a minute or so, dressed this time, thank fuck. “Am I to assume you
saw this morning’s paper?” Tom asked without a hint of concern. He seemed mildly confused
about Harry’s less than enthusiastic demeanour.

“Yeah,” Harry said, having trouble finding the words to describe how he felt, or why he even
felt that way in the first place. “I saw. Why, Tom?”

“Why?” Tom seemed genuinely puzzled by that question. “I thought it would wrap
everything up nicely. Hitting two nifflers with one spell, very quick and clean.”
“Why did you kill her?” Harry demanded, voice hardening and sheer exhaustion finally
making way for burning anger.

“Kill her?” Tom asked, head tilted as he stared at Harry. “I didn’t kill her.”

“Huh.” Harry swallowed and licked his lips. “But you just said you wrapped things up and
stuff. You did this, right?”

“Of course,” Tom said agreeably. “But I didn’t kill that child-raping witch. I simply put dear
Dolores under the Imperius and had her do it.”

“Tom!” Harry briefly closed his eyes, trying desperately to reign in his temper which was
about to explode, and he knew that wouldn’t be productive for either of them. “Tom, that’s
the same thing.”

“Is it?” Tom looked as though he’d never heard of such a ridiculous thing. “I’m telling you,
my dear, that dear Dolores hardly needed any prompting to unleash the killer within. I took a
close look inside her mind and I’ve rarely met a person who is so completely rotten to the
core, and I include Dumbledore and Voldemort in that list.”

“Look, I don’t care what you did to Umbridge, all right?” Harry ran a frustrated hand over his
face. “Feed her to a dragon, hang her from Hogwarts’ highest tower by her titties, I don’t
fucking care.” Harry could practically feel his gaze burning as he glared at Tom. “But you
killed my love potion stalker witch. I’m not happy about that.”

“I see,” Tom said in the sort of tone that meant he didn’t have a clue what Harry was talking
about. “You somehow find it acceptable that a grown witch sends love potions to a child?”

“Of course not,” Harry spat. “But I had the Auror department handling it. I’d sent them all
the evidence ages ago.”

Tom released a hollow sound of derision. “The Auror department?” Tom’s eyes narrowed and
his voice gained a razor-sharp edge. “Would you like to know what they did in response to
her actions, Harry dear? They sent her a strongly worded letter warning her not to do it again,
after she’s been sending you love potions for years. No, don’t deny it,” Tom said, cutting
Harry off when he tried to interject. “I had Severus confirm this, and Wormtail at the ministry
copied every scrap of parchment pertaining to your case for me.”

“I just don’t think she deserved to die for that,” Harry mumbled, feeling oddly chastised yet
still unable to accept murder without protest.

“And I do,” Tom said, expression firm and tone frosty. “I looked into her mind, my dear, and
I saw what she wanted from you, the delusions she had when it came to a bloody child. I
won’t give you details because you’ve been traumatized enough as it is.”

“But that’s the whole point,” Harry argued, gesturing wildly. He got why Tom of all people
objected so vehemently against love potions. Harry wasn’t a fan either, but still…murder was
one step too far for Harry. “She was delusional. She needed medical care, Tom, not to be
murdered in cold blood.”
“Perhaps she did, but no one thought to give it to her,” Tom said entirely without mercy.
“And I don’t see why you should sacrifice your life or sanity because our society is incapable
of looking after the mentally ill. You are far too precious for that.”

“Er…” Harry wasn’t sure what the hell Tom had just said. “Yeah, okay…I don’t know.”

“Harry, why are you defending your would-be rapist?” Tom gave Harry an almost
challenging look. “Is that why you are really angry, that I thought to spare you such a fate?”

“No,” Harry whispered, staring down at his knees, feeling suddenly very lost. “I get why you
did it.”

“Are you angry with me, or are you angry with yourself? Because I can’t tell right now,” Tom
whispered, gaze softening.

“I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. Half of him felt like crying, but the other half was too
empty to manage even a single tear.

“I suggest you figure out what really has you so upset, Harry. I won’t contact you until you
do. When you’re ready to let me know, you know where to find me.” And with that, Tom
clicked his mirror shut and Harry was left staring at his own pale reflection.

For a very long time, Harry merely sat in the chair, mind in turmoil while his body was
numb. Tom had just hung up on him, which upset Harry a great deal, yet Harry could
understand. Tom got tired of Harry and his constant anger and always questioning Tom’s
actions and motivations. If Harry was Tom, he’d get tired of himself, too.

Hell, Harry got tired of Harry regularly, especially right that moment.

But Harry was angry at something. He just didn’t have a clue what.

Was it the murder of his love potion stalker witch? Maybe. Harry wasn’t sure. He didn’t
condone murder on principle, yet he welcomed the idea of Dumbledore dying, not to mention
someone like Umbridge. Heck, he’d happily dance on her grave after he killed her himself.

So it wasn’t murder, not really, that had him so upset. Certainly not the murder of his would-
be rapist. But something about this whole situation caused him a lot of grief and Harry had no
idea why.

His next class was transfiguration and Harry knew he couldn’t just skip that without
consequences, so with five minutes to spare he got up, stretched, and gave himself a few
mental kicks in the head to get his restless thoughts under control enough to get through the
rest of the day.

“Did Binns notice?” Harry asked quietly as he slid in between Theo and Blaise in the
transfiguration classroom just in time.

“Nah,” Theo said while Blaise chuckled. “He took roll but when he got to your name myself,
Blaise and Neville all replied for you and he didn’t even notice, went right on to the next
name.” Theo looked him up and down. “You all right?”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah. Got some stuff on my mind, but I’ll be fine.”

Before Theo could reply McGonagall started her lecture on the next chapter in their book, so
Harry got out his quill and ink and took notes on auto-pilot.

And that was exactly what the rest of the day was like for Harry. Auto-pilot. He went through
the motions, did what he had to do in classes, talked to his friends, did his homework, and all
the while he was empty inside. His thoughts were wild and overwhelming, pulling him in all
directions when it came to his conversation with Tom, yet all his feelings were just…gone. A
huge black void had opened up inside of him and somehow sucked up every single emotion
Harry ever had and now Harry was left with nothing.

That evening, as Harry lay in bed without a nightly chat with his soulmate to look forward to,
Harry came to the very firm conclusion that life without Tom sucked. Yes, he knew he was
being dramatic, that it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d last spoken to Tom,
but it felt as though he’d somehow lost Tom forever, after the way Tom had ended their last
conversation.

The thought of Tom not being there anymore hurt in ways Harry didn’t think he’d hurt
before. In ways that fundamentally changed who he was as a person.

Why was he angry at Tom in the first place? Harry didn’t have a clue.

The mirror lit up but even before answering Harry knew with certainty it wouldn’t be Tom.
His soulmate wasn’t the kind of man to say one thing and then do the complete opposite.

“Hey, kid,” Barty said when Harry answered the mirror. “You all right?”

“I don’t know.” Harry closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m pretty sure I fucked things up again
but I haven’t a clue how.”

Barty released a soft snort. “Yeah, me neither. Our Lord was pretty tight-lipped about your
talk this morning.”

“I’m kinda angry about Tom murdering my love potion stalker witch. I think.” Harry
shrugged. “I might be angry about something else. I honestly don’t know.”

“Ah.” Barty remained quiet while he frowned in concentration. “Yeah, I got nothing, other
than that you cannot expect our Lord not to take care of his enemies, Harry.”

“But they weren’t his enemies,” Harry pointed out quickly. “They were mine.”

Barty brought his mirror closer to his face. “Kid, your enemies are his enemies. You share a
soul, for fuck’s sake.”

“Huh.” This was news to Harry. Not the soul part, he knew that, but the enemy part. He’d
never really thought about it like that.

“Do you understand now?”

“More than I did before, sure,” Harry said. That seemed to please Barty and he changed the
subject to the Culture Club and what Harry planned to do for their first official meeting.
Harry chatted with Barty, faking as much enthusiasm as he could because inside of him there
was none.

“How did you even get a Culture Club started?” Barty asked at one point. “In my day
Dumbledore always blocked such attempts.”

“Huh?” Harry looked at Barty in confusion.

“You’re not the first student to come up with the idea for a cultural exchange club, Harry.”
Barty shook his head in amusement at seeing Harry’s dumbfounded expression.

“We didn’t involve Dumbledore,” Harry said when he finally found his voice again. “All I
needed was signatures of three of the four Heads of Houses on my official proposal according
to the rules and regulations and I got those no problem from Snape, Sprout and Flitwick.”

Barty sat up and gave Harry an intent look. “You have a copy of Hogwarts’ rules and
regulations?”

“Sure. Read it in bed and came up with the idea of this club.”

“Where did you get it?” Barty all but demanded.

“Room of Requirement,” Harry said, knowing Barty would recognize that name. Barty may
have never seen it himself, he’d heard Harry talk about it often enough.

“You don’t know how lucky you are, kid,” Barty said with a wistful smile. “Dumbledore has
disappeared pretty much all existing copies of that book ever since he was made headmaster.”

“Seriously?” Harry had never realized this in his previous life, never even knew there should
be such a book. He’d always thought Hogwarts, A History was the official Hogwarts book,
but apparently not.

“Yes, seriously. Hold onto that book, and don’t let the old man know you have it.” Barty
licked his lips and his eyes became pleading. “Also, could I read it sometime?”

“Sure, I’ll give it to you over the holidays.” Until that time Harry vowed to keep it locked in
his trunk under his strongest wards. He was now determined to memorize the whole thing at
least at some point.

When Harry finally fell asleep that night there were no warm, comforting shared dreams
waiting for him. Somehow Tom had cut him off, which hurt Harry perhaps most of all.

The next day it was more of the same. Talk to friends, go to classes, Quidditch, homework,
library…blah, blah, blah.

Auto-pilot. Going through the motions. Ignoring the worried looks his friends gave him when
they thought he wouldn’t notice. Reassuring brave Neville, who had the guts to just outright
ask Harry what was going on, that he was fine, really, just tired, a lot on my mind with the
new club and stuff.

Hannah pressed a chocolate frog in his hand while they packed up their homework in the
library before going down to dinner. “It’ll be all right, Harry,” she whispered. “You’ve
worked hard on the club. You’ve got this.” Harry managed an almost sincere smile in
response. He appreciated her gesture immensely, though, even if he couldn’t show it. The
chocolate frog tasted like ash.

By Wednesday, Harry wasn’t even sure anymore why he and Tom were fighting. Were they
even fighting? Was that what had happened? Harry got upset with Tom (probably, Harry still
wasn’t sure), and Tom got upset because Harry got upset.

Rinse and repeat.

Friends, classes, homework, blah, blah, blah.

Why was Harry even here, living this life? What purpose did this life have if he couldn’t
share it with someone who really knew him?

Harry liked his friends, he really did, but none of them had a clue about who Harry really
was. Even people like Barty, or Merlin forbid Snape, who knew something of the truth had no
clue who Harry was inside, all the things he’d been through, all the pain he’d suffered, all the
people he’d lost, all his victories, great and small.

Without Tom, who knew Harry on levels so fundamental and vast, who shared his soul, Harry
wasn’t sure if he could go on existing as his own true self. Was he destined to become only
this new Harry, Slytherin, smart, studious without Tom there to remind him of the old one,
the Gryffindor, bold, impulsive, willing to sacrifice everything?

And what was this second chance even worth without the other half of his soul there to
experience it with him? What did it matter if Dumbledore got what was coming to him or not.
What did it matter if Sirius got out of Azkaban this year or the next. What did it matter if the
ministry got an overhaul or not. Without Tom, everything just seemed so utterly meaningless.

What the hell did a would-be-child-raping love potion stalking witch even matter in the grand
scheme of things? Not a damned thing, this much Harry knew.

At least he could tell Tom that, if he ever had the courage to call him. But Harry still didn’t
have a clue what to say to his soulmate other than ‘I miss you’ and ‘please don’t ever stop
talking to me again’.” Neither which were answers to the question Tom had actually asked
him: are you angry at me or at yourself? Why are you really upset?

It was also around this point that Harry started to suspect his feelings for Tom really might be
running a little deeper than a simple physical attraction. Of course, he could never say such a
thing to Tom, who would probably laugh in his face anyway, if he even decided to talk to
Harry ever again in the first place.
By Thursday evening Harry went to bed right after dinner, exhausted and empty as he was.
Theo and Blaise exchanged a worried look and tried to entice him with a game of exploding
snap but Harry waved them off and put on his pyjamas. He couldn’t even be bothered to take
a shower.

The most excitement he’d seen in days happened when he closed the curtains around his bed
and cast the necessary privacy spells out of habit. A house-elf popped onto the foot of his
bed. Harry was about to scold Kreacher for scaring the crap out of him when he realized it
wasn’t Kreacher at all.

“Dobby!” Harry stared at his old elf friend in amazement.

“Oh, Harry Potter be knowing Dobby’s name!” Dobby pulled at his ears, gentler than Harry
had ever seen him do it. “And Dobby is being a surprise for Harry Potter, the great Master
Tom is saying so.”

“Huh.” Harry stared at his old friend, noting he was wearing a clean, striped pillow-case and
there were no wounds or bandages anywhere on his body. “Wait, did you say Master Tom?”

Dobby beamed at him. “Yes! The great Master Tom is taking Dobby away from the bad
family who was hurting Dobby a great deal. The great Master Tom is being a very good
master, forbidding Dobby from hurting himself and letting him work with Plucky which
Dobby enjoys very much.”

“Huh,” Harry said again, barely understanding what the hell was going on, not to mention he
didn’t have a clue who Plucky was but he figured it was another elf. “So Tom is now your
master? How did that happen?”

“The bad family is giving Dobby to the great Master Tom, while Master Dorus be giving
Plucky to Master Tom. Master Dorus is also being a good master, Plucky told Dobby.”

“I’m happy for you, Dobby,” Harry said sincerely. He’d thought about Dobby stuck at the
Malfoys a time or two since coming back and it had bothered him he probably wouldn’t have
an opportunity to free him like he’d done before. “Did Tom send you?”

“Oh no,” Dobby whispered, pulling gently on his ears again before quickly letting go. “The
great Master Tom is saying he’s giving Dobby to Harry Potter for Yule, but the great Master
Tom never forbid Dobby from seeing Harry Potter before then.”

Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Tom foiled in his gift giving by a clever
elf. Then he realized what that actually meant, that Tom had gone out of his way to get
Dobby away from the Malfoys so he could give him to Harry because he knew how much
Dobby meant to Harry and for the first time since his horrible talk with Tom on Monday,
Harry felt a burst of warmth in his chest at the thought of Tom going through all that trouble
for him.

“But the great master Tom is being not well right now,” Dobby continued with a sad shake of
his head. “The great Master Tom is missing his Harry Potter. He is not saying this, but Dobby
knows because the great Master Tom keeps talking about his Harry Potter to Master Barty,
Plucky, Winky and Dobby.”

Harry went back to biting his lip and basking in the warmth that had now consumed just
about his entire body.

“So now Dobby is hoping Harry Potter be willing to make the great Master Tom happy
again.” Dobby stared at Harry with wide, expectant eyes.

“I’d love nothing more,” Harry said with a sigh. “But it’s not that simple,”

“What is keeping Harry Potter?”

“Tom hurt two witches,” Harry started and Dobby cut him off before he could go on.

“Oh yes, the great Master Tom is being very happy he is getting rid of his Harry Potter’s
enemies. He was being very afraid they would be taking his Harry Potter away from him.”

Harry felt like someone had just hit him in the head with a bludger. Not hard enough to crack
his skull open this time, but enough to knock some sense into him. Tom was scared Harry
would be taken from him. And Harry was –

“I’m so sorry to kick you out, Dobby,” Harry said as he sat up and snatched up his mirror
from his nightstand. He leaned forward and briefly squeezed Dobby’s bony shoulder in
gratitude. “You’re a life-saver, but I’ve got to talk to Tom now. So shoo.”

“You is going to be making the great Master Tom happy again?” Dobby asked with a wide
smile.

“Yep, or die trying,” Harry said, flipping open his mirror. Dobby released a happy little noise
before popping away while Harry waited impatiently for Tom to answer the mirror.

Tom did so with a cool little, “Harry, good evening.”

“Both,” Harry said, feeling as life was returning to him, as if he’d been a dead body walking
around these past few days but somehow Dobby had just accidentally resurrected him and
there was life in him again. “I’m angry at myself, we’ll get to that, but boy, am I angry at you,
Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Tom blinked at him, clearly not having expected such a passionate response from his
soulmate.

“Let me make one thing very clear, soulmate,” Harry said as he pointed a firm finger at
Tom’s face. “I cannot do this without you. There, I said it, I don’t care what you think of that,
but it’s the truth. And I’m angry because I’m fucking worried sick that you’ll get caught and
chucked into Azkaban or given the Kiss or are thrown through the Veil, all right?”

“All right,” Tom whispered, expression carefully blank but eyes shining.
“I’m not done yet,” Harry rambled on. “I cannot lose you, and I don’t know how to break into
Azkaban to get you out, and we both know how fucking corrupt our justice system is and
how much Dumbledore wants you dead and gone, and Tom, I cannot have you risk your life
to deal with my would-be enemies, all right? I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d lost you
over some stupid fucking would-be-child-raping love potion stalker witch.” Harry inhaled a
deep breath, and another one.

“Hm.” Tom still looked like he was listening to the weather forecast instead of his soulmate
confessing some terribly personal thoughts and feelings. “And you’re angry at yourself
why?”

Harry shrugged. “Because I’m changing. All of what has happened has changed me, and it’s
a lot to get used to. Before, I would have been opposed to killing simply on principle, but
now I’m not and I’m kinda okay with that but also worried because I don’t want to become a
bad person. Something like that.”

Tom remained quiet for a few moments while Harry waited with bated breath. “Thank you
for telling me.” A slow smile appeared on Tom’s lips. “I seriously doubt you could ever
become a bad person, even if you tried, my dear.”

“Sometimes it feels like I already am,” Harry said softly. He’d already admitted to quite some
horrifyingly personal things, might as well add a few more while he was at it. “The way I’m
using everyone around me.”

“But you’re not hurting them,” Tom pointed out. “Yes, you can use them because you’re in a
unique position of knowing what might happen at some points in the future, but that doesn’t
make you a horrible person.”

“I guess. I hope.” Harry gave a one-shouldered shrug and stared to the side.

“As for your fear of losing me,” Tom said softly, delicately. “It is that very fear that drove me
to take care of those two witches that might hurt you.”

Harry chuckled briefly. “Yeah, I figured. And I’m glad you got rid of dear Dolores, I really
am. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer witch. Still think perhaps my stalker witch needed to
go to St Mungo’s instead of her grave but I get why you did it. It’s fine. Though can we agree
that you’ll give me a head’s up in the future before you do something like this?”

“I suppose I can agree to that,” Tom said with a slow nod. “Especially since I do like to get
your input on my plans.”

Harry beamed at him, chest glowing while a huge weight fell off Harry’s entire body.
Especially his head. Harry hadn’t really noticed it until it was gone, but the previous few days
it had felt like he was wearing a hundred pound hat. “Thank you! Now can we please go back
to talking to each other? That should be a rule, too. That we should never stop talking to each
other again, because this week sucked.”

Tom was looking so impossibly fond that for a moment it took Harry’s breath away. “It might
indeed be healthier for us both in the future to talk about our differences instead of me giving
you the cold shoulder. I do apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said quickly, not really feeling like he was owed any apology. “And I’m
sorry I’m such a mess.”

“No more than me, sweetheart.” Tom shook his head in obvious amusement. “And while I
appreciate your concern for my well-being, just for the record I’d like to point out I’m a
wizard of many talents and I’m not easily caught.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, feeling his cheeks heat once he realized he may have implied the
ministry Auror force was a match for Tom, which Harry knew all too well wasn’t the case.
“It’s just…soon enough Dumbledore is going to know about you and we both know how far
that man is willing to go to see us both dead.”

“You’re afraid of Dumbledore,” Tom quietly observed.

“After what he did to me and got away with? Yes,” Harry said without shame. “Aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of Dumbledore, but I’ll admit to being cautious of him.” Tom
frowned for a few seconds while he was clearly thinking his next words over. “Dumbledore is
incredibly well-connected and he has managed to create an almost universally-liked persona
over the past few decades. But while he is powerful and talented in magic, he is not
invincible. Especially not now that I’m in possession of all my faculties again.”

“Well, most of your faculties at any rate,” Harry offered with a teasing grin. Tom gave him a
tired look which Harry replied to by sticking out his tongue. Sweet Merlin, it was good to be
back to normal.

“Dumbledore will be up in arms once Barty and I go public, but he’ll have no evidence of my
true identity. In fact, the more he insists I’m Voldemort, the bigger of a fool he’ll seem to
more and more people,” Tom said while he relaxed in his chair and picked up a cup of tea to
sip.

“Sure, but there will always be those who’ll believe anything Dumbledore says no matter
what,” Harry replied, thinking of some of the Order members that always took Dumbledore’s
word to heart at once. “When are you springing your Lockhart trap?”

“Tomorrow.”

Harry leaned forward a little, his curiosity piqued. “Do tell.”

And Tom did. For the next hour they discussed Tom and Barty’s upcoming plot to see
Lockhart exposed and after that they talked about the first meeting of the Culture Club the
next evening.

“I have no clue how many students are going to show up,” Harry said, feeling a swoop of
uncertainty in his stomach. “What if only my friends show up but no one else?”

Tom chuckled. “Darling, you’re Harry Potter. That’s bound to attract some interest amongst
your peers, even if it’s just to meet you.”
“Ugh,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Sometimes I forget I’m Harry Potter.”
Before he could say more a huge yawn forced its way out and Harry quickly covered his
mouth with his hand. “Sorry, haven’t been sleeping well. Oh!” Harry sat up and blinked his
eyes, trying to give Tom a stern stare. “How did you cut off our dreams?”

Tom quirked an eyebrow and looked vaguely disappointed in Harry. “You haven’t figured
that out yet? Truly?”

“Well,” Harry reasoned, and then had to pause for a moment for another yawn. “It’s some
kind of mind shield…oh, it’s Occlumency, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s Occlumency,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll stop Occluding tonight.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a grateful smile, though he quickly added, “Because we’re
experimenting with our connection, right, to understand it, so we have to keep it open and
stuff.”

“Harry, you’re rambling. Get some sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Harry lay down on his bed, eyes already heavy. “Night, Tom.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” With a soft smile Tom closed his mirror. Harry did the same and
was asleep in minutes and found himself once again cocooned in warm, safe feelings, which
he’d missed more than he could possibly ever say.

Theo and Blaise immediately noticed his improved mood the next morning.

“About time,” Blaise said as they were all getting dressed. “I was genuinely worried someone
had managed to turn you into an inferius.”

Harry snorted as he straightened his tie. No more was said about it as they made their way to
breakfast and after that, to double Potions.

Neville beamed at him when he noticed pretty much right away that Harry was much
improved. “So glad you’re feeling better, Harry,” he whispered while keeping a very close
eye on Snape. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“Thanks, Nev,” Harry whispered back while he gave Neville a grateful nudge with his elbow.
“I appreciate that, but this was some personal stuff I had to work through. All solved now.”

“I’m so happy,” Neville sighed. “I’ve been so worried.”

“You two are so cute,” Millicent commented loudly while she sliced up some dried frog
livers.

“Er…” Harry stared at her while Neville squeaked, “What?” At this point Snape gave them a
very clear warning glare so they quietly went about making their burn salve.

After lunch Harry and his friends gathered in the library.

“I’d like to apologize for my behaviour these last few days,” Harry said right away. “I know
some of you’ve been worried.”

“Yeah!” Hannah said, while Justin and Ernie nodded at once.

“I just had some personal things to work through, nothing to do with school or the Culture
Club. It’s all taken care of now. So, are we all ready for our first meeting tonight?”

And that seemed enough to get everyone moving on from Harry’s worrying behaviour over
the past few days. They took ten minutes to discuss the upcoming meeting and their
expectations of it and then Susan reminded everyone they still had homework to finish if they
wanted to have the weekend off like usual so they got working on that.

The later it got, the more excited Harry felt. It was only a student club meeting, he knew, but
he’d never organized a student club before. Well, not an approved one, and even with the DA
in his fifth year he hadn’t done any of the organizing. All he’d done was show up and instruct
others. Now he’d done all the legwork to get the Culture Club up and running. He felt quite a
sense of satisfaction because of that, not to mention a real sense of dread wondering if the
club was going to be a success or not.

Half an hour before dinner Harry excused himself from his friends and made a quick stop in
the Room of Requirement and used its magic to sort through some furniture at record speed.
He found a few sofas, some comfortable chairs, a few large pillows one might use to sit on
the floor and some wooden tables and chairs. All were scuffed or slightly broken or ripped or
stained. In fact, one of the sofas looked like someone had their throat slid while taking a nap
on it but beggars couldn’t be choosers so Harry shrank the whole lot and hurried down to the
second floor and to the empty classroom they’d selected for their club.

“Kreacher!” Harry called as he closed the classroom door and unloaded all his shrunken
furniture.

“Little Master be calling Kreacher?”

“Help!” Harry gestured around the classroom. “We’re having a Culture Club meeting here in
an hour and I’m late for dinner and could you please clean this room and restore this furniture
as best you can? Pretty please?”

Kreacher gave him a look filled with exasperation and waved Harry off. “Little Master be
eating and Kreacher be getting this room clean.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a grateful smile and he even bowed at Kreacher in sheer
gratitude before he all but ran to the great hall. “The meeting room should be ready in time,”
Harry informed Theo and Blaise.

“House-elves really come in handy, don’t they?” Theo commented before stuffing a big
spoon of peas in his mouth.

After dinner was over, Harry met his friends in the entrance hall and together they strolled
towards the meeting room, Harry’s stomach full of annoying butterflies. But he needn’t have
worried. Kreacher had outdone himself.

All the furniture was restored until it looked like new and was placed around the room, which
itself looked clean. The stone floors shone and the windows gleamed. Kreacher had even set
out a big pot of tea, plenty of cups and a plate of biscuits under a preservation charm on a
corner table.

“Wow,” Hannah said as they all admired the room. “Did you do all this, Harry?”

“Nah. I’m friends with a house-elf,” Harry said because he wasn’t about to take credit for
something he didn’t do. “He’s amazing.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Ernie said while plopping down on one of the sofas. Daphne got herself
a cup of tea while Blaise made for the biscuits.

Right around seven, the official starting time of their meeting, more students started trickling
in. Harry had kept the club to first years only, to keep the number of students manageable.
They could always open it up to older years in the future, but Harry didn’t want to bite off
more than he could chew. He had enough on his plate already.

Quite a few Ravenclaws showed up, as Harry had expected. Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin,
Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot. From Hufflepuff Megan Jones, Wayne
Hopkins and Zacharias Smith joined them. From Gryffindor Harry was happy to see Seamus
and Dean. And then Millicent stuck her head around the corner and both Harry and Neville
waved her in.

Harry did a quick count. That was twenty-one students in total. A very nice number and
Harry was pleased to see so much interest so early on.

“Is this the Culture Club?” one last student asked as she entered the classroom. “Where can I
sign up?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harry muttered while he stared at his former best friend.

He’d completely forgotten about Hermione.

 Chapter 30
Chapter Summary

Harry oversees the Culture Club's first meeting, faces his least-favourite muggle-born,
realizes Kreacher is the world's smartest house-elf, listens to Tom's tales of victory and
sees all his carefully thought-out plans blown out of the water by one headline in the
paper.

Chapter Notes

This chapter moves a lot of plot points forward without seeming like anything happens
in it at all, at least that's what it felt like writing it. I have to admit this cliffhanger is one
I have been planning pretty much from the start of this story. It was one trope I always
wanted to subvert. I hope you enjoy the surprise. Thanks so much for reading and
commenting! It is so very much appreciated and it makes writing this a little easier.

Chapter 30

Harry wanted to smack himself in the face for that oversight, but truthfully, he’d been busy
with other, much more important things, and for the last two months, ever since McGonagall
had made a genuine attempt to correct Hermione’s out-of-control behaviour, Hermione had
kept to herself, making no trouble and keeping her head down while she spent most her time
quietly studying. And thus, Harry had genuinely not even considered her when he started the
Culture Club.

Well, there was nothing for it. As per Hogwarts’ rules and regulations he couldn’t keep
Hermione from joining an official student club. Of course, should Hermione make a nuisance
of herself, Harry, as the founder and president of the Culture Club, could ask for a vote of all
the members to get rid of her, and as long as a majority voted for her expulsion from the club
there was nothing Hermione could do to stop it. Harry was at least somewhat relieved to have
that safety net but he also knew he couldn’t use it unless Hermione really messed up. He
didn’t want to become known as someone who had it out for a Gryffindor muggle-born
student for little to no genuine reason other than Harry’s general dislike of her. Obviously, he
couldn’t tell others why he really had such problems with her. But it was perfectly acceptable
for Harry to dislike her, since plenty of others did, for Hermione’s grating personality and
know-it-all attitude.

“Sign up over here,” Ernie called, waving Hermione over. He and Justin had volunteered to
be the club’s secretaries and keep track of all the paperwork. Hermione rushed over to add
her name to the list, the last to do so.

Harry inhaled a deep, calming breath while he stepped to the side-table and served himself a
cup of tea. He bit into a biscuit as he observed the children around him. Most were chatting
with others of their own House while some were side-eyeing the Slytherins in the room
somewhat warily, but Harry vowed to change that attitude as soon as possible. Once he’d
finished his tea and biscuit, Harry stepped up to the middle of the room and cleared his
throat.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Harry said with a wide smile, “to the Culture Club. Please,
everyone, find a comfortable seat and we’ll get started.”

There was a short moment of chaos as everyone moved at once but before long all were
seated in a semi-circle around the room. And with a few students on pillows on the floor and
others squeezed four to a sofa there was room for everyone.

Harry had a wooden chair to himself and he looked at all the expectant faces staring at him.
“I thought we’d start by quickly introducing ourselves. I’ll start. Hi, I’m Harry Potter and I’m
a half-blood and muggle-raised. My muggle aunt told me what she knew about the wizarding
world, but it wasn’t much and I keep running into things I don’t know.” For this Harry used
examples from his previous life, because he had genuinely felt like he’d been dumped in an
unknown foreign country without a proper tourist guide. “Like certain drinks or foods I’ve
never heard of and don’t know what they are, books or authors I don’t know but that the
wizard-raised kids around me grew up with, singers and bands and songs I’m not familiar
with but people expect me to know.” Harry chuckled while he saw students like Dean and
Justin, and even Hermione, nod in agreement. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? Anyway, that’s
why I’m here, to teach and learn each other’s culture. Neville, you’re up.”

Neville swallowed, looked around the room with wide eyes, but once he started talking he
only stuttered over the first few words. After that, he got more confident. “Hi, I’m Neville
Longbottom, pureblood, raised in the wizarding world, and I’d like to learn about all the
muggle references my friends Harry and Justin are always making and I haven’t a clue about.
That’s it.”

Theo was next, and then Daphne, and Harry sat back and listened patiently as everyone
introduced themselves. And while Harry had started the Culture Club mainly to sneak rituals
and traditions back into Hogwarts’ curriculum, he quickly realized there was a genuine need
for a cultural exchange club. Harry had felt lost in the wizarding world, and sometimes still
did, and as he listened to those around him he knew others felt the same way.

Why had Dumbledore wanted to suppress clubs like this so badly he did away with the
rulebook entirely? If Harry had to take a guess it was to give purebloods no chance
whatsoever to share their views of the wizarding world with the incoming muggle-born and -
raised children and thus lessening their power as they never gained any influence over these
new kids. But the enormous downside to this approach was that the muggle-born and -raised
had a hard time fitting in, which led to more resentment from the purebloods, which in turn
assured the gap between both sides would only grow with each new generation to come
through Hogwarts.
And all the while Dumbledore could play the benevolent headmaster, so tolerant of muggle-
borns while pointing an accusing finger at all those intolerant purebloods and their desire for
segregation.

“Thanks, everyone,” Harry said when all students had their say. “I’m happy you’re all here,
eager to learn and share. And seeing as we’re only a few weeks away from December and the
holidays I thought we’d start exchanging information about Christmas and Yule.”

“Why is it called Christmas at Hogwarts if wizards call it Yule elsewhere?” Megan Jones
asked. She was a half-blood whose wizard father had died in the war and who’d been raised
by her muggle mother and had little contact with the wizarding world until her Hogwarts
letter came. She’d known she was a witch, had read some of her dad’s books he’d left behind,
but that was about it.

“Excellent question.” Harry beamed at her and gestured to some of his pureblood friends.
“Susan, Neville, Daphne? Can any of you give us the answer?”

“I think it was done to accommodate the muggle-born and raised here at Hogwarts,” Susan
said quietly. “I know it’s a fairly recent development.”

“That seems silly,” Dean said with a frown. “How are we to learn about this new world if
they won’t show us the differences?”

There followed a brief discussion on this subject and Harry crossed his arms and listened and
was incredibly happy to see the kids around him using their brains, questioning things and
trying to work out the answers. Gosh, he really was getting old, wasn’t he, when his feelings
turned almost paternal while observing his young club members.

“I thought we could exchange Christmas and Yule items and traditions over the coming
meetings until the holidays,” Harry suggested once the discussion came to a natural end.
“Decorations, songs, food. Perhaps some of you can ask some family members at home to
send you some specific things to share.” This got him an enthusiastic response and at once
almost every student offered to arrange to bring along something for the next meetings. Once
that was settled Harry checked his watch and realized an hour and a half had passed already
and since curfew for first years was nine o’clock they should wrap things up.

“Let’s leave it here,” Harry said, his cheeks glowing with satisfaction over their successful
first meeting. “Thank you all for coming, I hope you enjoyed it and we’ll see you again same
time next week.”

Students got up while chatting about their plans for upcoming lessons. Unsurprisingly,
Hermione made a beeline for Harry. Neville, who’d been sitting beside Harry, stuck to his
side with a worried look. During the meeting itself Hermione had participated
enthusiastically, but no more so than other kids. She had apparently learned not to dominate
every social gathering even if she was obviously eager to share her knowledge. Now it
seemed she had a few things she desperately needed to share with their erstwhile leader.

“Harry,” Hermione said, clutching a thick notebook to her chest. “I have some ideas for
lessons – “
“I’m going to cut you off right there, Granger,” Harry said with a sigh. “I already have the
subjects for lessons for the rest of the schoolyear planned out.”

“Oh.” For a second Hermione looked lost, but then her eyes regained a determined glint.
“Still, I’ve put together a comprehensive lesson plan which could very well replace anything
you came up with should you find it of more interest.”

“I doubt that,” Harry said, turning away. He glanced at Hermione over his shoulder. “This is
my club, Granger, that I started with my friends. We’ve worked out our own plans. If you
want to run a club, then start one.”

“I didn’t know I could,” Hermione said, eyes wide while she looked shocked there was
something about Hogwarts she didn’t know. “It’s not in Hogwarts, A History.”

Harry gave her a smirk that clearly said he knew something she didn’t. “That’s because the
information can be found in Hogwarts’ Rules and Regulations handbook.”

“Oh! I have to run, the library closes in fifteen minutes.” And with that, Hermione rushed out
the door.

Harry shared an amused glance with Neville. “She’s not going to find it there,” Harry
whispered. “Dumbledore did away with that book entirely when he became headmaster.”

Neville frowned. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Now that is the question. Ask your grandmother about that book sometime,” Harry
suggested with a sly smile as they joined the rest of his friends.

Everyone agreed the first club meeting had been a success and they were all looking forward
to their next get-together. Since curfew was quickly approaching they split up to go to their
respective dormitories. Before he left, Harry cast a simple password spell on the classroom
door. It wouldn’t draw attention like elaborate wards would, but it would keep other students
from using, and perhaps wrecking, their club house. And this way Harry could share the
password, which he set to ‘house-elves rule and dementors drool’, with his friends and they
could use the club house whenever they wanted without needing to know how to dismantle
wards, which was magic far too advanced for the average first-year.

Harry played a quick game of exploding snap with Theo and Blaise, since he hadn’t joined
them all week during his depressive episode, but he was eager to get to bed and call Tom to
share tales of his success.

But Tom didn’t answer his mirror when Harry called him, freshly-showered and tucked under
the covers in his pyjamas. And then Harry remembered Tom had his own adventures planned
for that day with his Lockhart trap and it was entirely possible Tom and Barty were still stuck
giving evidence at the ministry or something like that. A cold shiver ran down Harry’s spine
at the thought of Tom in a cell or worse, but no, that was nonsense. Lockhart really was guilty
of the things Tom and Barty would accuse him of so there was no reason for Tom to end up
in a cell. At least, not that day.
Harry shut the mirror, knowing Tom would call him the first chance he got to inform Harry
how everything had worked out. Until that time Harry had to be patient. He lay on his back
and thought about the Culture Club and future plans and about how Dumbledore would react
to the existence of the Culture Club once he got wind of it. And he would. Harry wasn’t sure
when, but he did know that it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore would want a
little chat with him. And he’d want to know how Harry knew how to start his little club.
Harry decided there and then he would not tell Dumbledore about the handbook that was in
his possession.

In fact, the more Harry thought about it, the less convinced he became the book was safe in
his trunk. Harry’s wards were fine to keep other students, even older years, from snooping
through his possessions, but they wouldn’t keep a determined Dumbledore out for very long.
And Dumbledore might very well decide to look for a possible handbook in Harry’s
possession before even approaching Harry in person about his new club.

Harry sat up in bed. Yeah, he needed better security. “Kreacher!” Harry called after he fished
the Hogwarts rules and regulations handbook out of his trunk.

“Little Master be calling Kreacher?”

“First of all, thank you,” Harry said, meaning every word. “You outdid yourself with our club
house. The meeting went great.”

Kreacher’s wrinkly old face lit up as best it could. “Kreacher is happy hearing that.”

“Now, why I called you,” Harry said, showing Kreacher the book in his hands. “I have this
book that’s very important. Dumbledore wants to destroy it, but we can’t let him.”

Kreacher’s usually hooded eyes widened significantly. “Master Regulus was always be
looking for this book.”

“I bet. Him and lots of other students,” Harry said with a sage nod. “I’d like you to take this
to Grimmauld Place and keep it safe there.”

“Kreacher will be keeping it safe.” The old elf accepted the book gingerly. “Is the little
Master wanting Kreacher to make copies so he can have it here to read while Kreacher be
keeping the real one safe?”

“Er…” Harry blinked at the genius yet simplicity of that suggestion. “Why didn’t I think of
that. Yes, thank you, Kreacher. That is a great idea.”

Kreacher snapped his gnarly fingers and gave Harry a crooked smile while offering him a
perfect copy.

“Is this a permanent copy?” Harry asked as he turned it around in his hands. It felt like a real
book but with magic you never knew and Harry didn’t know a great deal about house-elf
magic to begin with.

“Of course,” Kreacher said, definitely looking and sounding a little offended.
“I’m sorry, Kreacher,” Harry said quickly. “I just don’t know much about what house-elves
can do. Muggle-raised, remember?”

“Yes, Kreacher be knowing kind little Master was raised by filth. Kreacher be forgiving little
Master for doubting Kreacher.”

“Thanks.” Harry studied the copied book in his hands and got an idea. A really good idea if
he did say so himself. “How long would it take you to make around five hundred copies? If
it’s too much for you I can ask some other elves to help you.”

And there was that offended house-elf look again.

“Or not,” Harry quickly said. “Could you get that many copies done before December 20th?
That’s when we leave Hogwarts for the holidays. Could you distribute the copies to all
students the night before? Just pop them on their beds while they sleep with a letter or
something?”

“Kreacher could be doing that easily enough.” Kreacher said with a firm nod.

Harry beamed at him. “You are amazing! Thank you. This year the Board of Governors is
going to give every Hogwarts student a present right before the holidays. They just don’t
know it yet.”

Full of satisfaction over his own cleverness (even though it was mostly Kreacher’s idea that
got the ball rolling) Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face. And thankfully it didn’t take
long for him to find his soulmate in their dreams. Tom was full of glowing emotions, which
Harry assumed meant his plans had been successful as well. They weren’t yet in control of
their connection enough that they could have a conversation, but they could bask together
while they slept.

The next day there was a small article on the front page of the Daily Prophet saying famous
author Gilderoy Lockhart had been arrested but that the Auror department hadn’t yet released
any official statements. Nothing yet about Tom and Barty and Ravenclaw’s diadem but Harry
assumed that would all follow once Lockhart’s crimes were officially made public
knowledge.

Susan had some interesting news when they met up in the entrance hall after breakfast to
spend the day together. “Aunt Amelia wrote to say the Board of Governors is meeting today
and they’ll question Dumbledore about the Cerberus.”

Frankly, Harry had already forgotten about Fluffy, so much had happened in the past few
weeks. “That’s great,” he said, meaning it no matter his forgetfulness. Dumbledore being
raked over the coals about his student-endangering schemes was a good thing, after all. Harry
glanced outside where it was pouring rain. “Do you lot want to hang out in the Club House?”

There was a general noise of agreement and as one they trooped up the stairs to the second
floor and their now officially named Club House. Harry liked to imagine the capital letters
when using the name in his thoughts. He really loved the idea of having a private space for
him and his friends. The most obvious space for that purpose was of course the Room of
Requirement but Harry wasn’t yet comfortable sharing his knowledge of it with his very
young friends. There was no guarantee the overly-eager Puffs wouldn’t share this amazing
room with their older Hufflepuff housemates or something, and then some of the older years
would start using it with their girl and boyfriends every chance they got and before long the
Room of Requirement would be occupied every second of every day by horny teenagers
shagging their hormonal brains out and Harry wouldn’t get a chance to sort through all the
treasures he knew were still in there whenever he had the time to do so.

Yeah, no, not going to happen. Harry was perfectly fine with being selfish on this occasion
and keeping the Room of Requirement to himself, at least for a few years longer so he could
help himself to whatever he wanted out of all the junk hidden in there. And then perhaps,
when they were a little older and his friends would understand not to share the room’s
existence with everyone and their grandmother and their pet kneazle, Harry would show them
how to work the room.

Harry stood in front of the door to their Club House. “Pay attention. This is a very
complicated password.” He grinned at his friends and said, slowly and carefully, “House-
elves rule and dementors drool.”

“I like it,” Blaise declared while Daphne rolled her eyes and Ernie snorted. Justin just looked
at everyone in confusion so Tracey, with a small sigh, took him aside to explain what house-
elves and dementors were.

“I sent my grandmother a note last night with our house-elf about that book,” Neville said as
he plopped down on the sofa beside Harry. As though she was waiting for it, said house-elf
popped into the room right in front of Neville, a small envelope in her hand.

“THERE ARE CREATURES THAT CAN SUCK OUT YOUR SOUL?” Justin bellowed
from the other side of the room. “ARE YOU HAVING ME ON?”

“Tiffy, hi,” Neville said while Tiffy gave him an obvious once-over to make sure her young
charge was in one piece.

“Mistress Augusta be sending you a response,” Tiffy said, handing Neville the missive.

“Thanks,” Neville mumbled, opening the note and reading it with a small frown.

“Hm,” Tiffy commented as she glanced around the room. “You is not looking after youselves
very well. Tiffy being right back.” The house-elf popped away while Neville looked up from
his note to stare at Harry.

“Do you have a copy of that book? My grandmother’s asking. If so, she’d really like a copy if
that’s okay.”

Tiffy popped back into the room carrying an enormous tray filled with a teapot, cups and
plates of cakes and biscuits. Harry loved house-elves, he really did.

“Okay, so that is a house-elf and they won’t eat my soul, just bring us tea, got it!” Justin
exclaimed, still pale-faced but a little calmer now. “And the soul-sucking things aren’t
anywhere near here, thank god for small mercies.”

Harry bit his lip for a second while accepting a cup of tea Tiffy all but shoved in his hands.
He made a mental note to teach his friends the Patronus charm. Not right away, but starting in
third year perhaps, but definitely in fourth year. It was too important a spell to risk his friends
not learning it. In fact, around that time he could always start a Defence Club of sorts, a
proper, legal version of the DA.

He looked back to Neville, having come up with the perfect reply for Neville’s question.
“Please inform your grandmother she’ll get her copy if she agrees to get the Board of
Governors to endorse giving a copy of the Hogwarts rules and regulations handbook to every
student for Yule, at no cost to the board or Hogwarts. All the board would have to do is sign a
short letter endorsing the gift and not inform Headmaster Dumbledore they’re doing it.”

“Sure,” Neville said, reaching in his bag for some stationary and a quill. “I’ll ask her.”

“Wait, you have a copy of that book, Harry?” Daphne asked. She’d overheard the
conversation seeing as she was sitting on the sofa beside theirs. “My mother mentioned
looking for that book for ages when she was at Hogwarts.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Patience, my dear,” Harry said with a mysterious little smile.
Daphne harrumphed and rolled her eyes, yet seemed quite pleased with this new development
as she turned to Susan and Hannah to continue chatting.

Tiffy popped away with Neville’s note while Theo summoned his house-elf, an older, very
dignified elf named Nestor, and asked him to bring them some games Theo kept at home.

Before long there were games of chess and exploding snap while they munched on oatmeal
biscuits and lemon cakes. Ernie insisted he teach everyone how to play the Patience version
of exploding snap, which was more difficult than the Classical version most of them had
played until then. Justin, who was a fairly decent chess player, took great delight in
challenging all of them to games of wizarding chess and crowing in victory every time one of
his pieces smacked the crap out of an opposing piece.

After half an hour or so, Tiffy popped back in with a reply from Neville’s grandmother. “She
agrees to your terms,” Neville said with a relieved smile. “She also says she can now
understand why you’ve been sorted into Slytherin. She had been wondering if the Sorting Hat
was finally going senile.”

Harry snorted and patted Neville’s knee in gratitude, very pleased yet another part of his
many plans were falling into place. Dumbledore could hardly object to every student
receiving a copy of the rulebook if it was officially endorsed by the Board of Governors.

For lunch, instead of heading to the great hall or the kitchens, Susan insisted in asking her
house-elf Lolly if she would make them lunch. She explained Lolly got bored with Susan at
Hogwarts and her aunt spending most time working at the ministry. When Susan summoned
Lolly and asked her, Lolly squealed in sheer delight at the opportunity to cook for so many
children. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen an elf look quite so ecstatic and he knew Dobby,
so that was saying something.
Lolly did not disappoint and within twenty minutes there was a buffet of delicious foods
waiting for them to serve themselves. There was roast pork with crackling, roasted Brussels
sprouts, carrots and parsnips, and roasted potatoes and a thick gravy. Chunky applesauce and
warm rolls completed the meal. For sweets there were strawberry tarts and tiramisu. Harry
ate until he was close to bursting. He wasn’t the only one who felt that way, and after lunch
Blaise asked his house-elf, a spunky little fellow called Gianny, to bring his wireless so they
could listen to some music while they all slowly recovered from their food comas. Harry may
even have napped for an hour or so, curled up on the sofa. Beside him, Neville looked like
he’d done the same.

All in all it was a great day spent with friends, fun activities and delicious foods and Harry
cherished it. He’d had fun in his previous life, sure, but somehow that had always felt
different, far more out-of-control somehow. Mostly, Harry’s idea of fun back then had been to
try to solve whatever mystery Dumbledore wanted him to solve that year while seeing how
far Harry was willing to go in risking his own life to defeat the evil Dark Lord. Simply
hanging out with a bunch of kids while playing games and listening to music while chatting
about anything and everything, yet nothing important, was a new experience for Harry and
one he truly enjoyed.

They had dinner in the great hall, though none of them ate that much thanks to Lolly’s
amazing spread earlier, and afterwards they all disappeared to their dormitories. Harry
sincerely hoped Tom would be available for a little chat that evening since Harry was
incredibly curious what had happened.

He needn’t have worried. Tom answered in ten seconds once Harry called him after he got to
bed.

“How did it go?” Harry asked with an eager smile, not even letting Tom get a polite greeting
in.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “Perfectly, my dear. Narcissa visited Coiffure de Magique
in Fantastic Alley, where our friend Lockhart has a standing appointment every Monday.
There she gossiped with a few people about hearing that Ravenclaw’s diadem had been
found, but not knowing anymore details. On Wednesday, Barty and I took Dorus to the Silver
Eel, this little seafood restaurant right beside Coiffure de Magique, which incidentally serves
an exquisite seabass, I’ll take you there during the holidays, where we regaled Dorus
discreetly of our adventures in recovering Ravenclaw’s lost diadem.”

“And Lockhart overheard you,” Harry guessed.

Tom nodded with a grin. “Of course it so happened dear Gilderoy Lockhart was having lunch
there with his publisher that day and couldn’t help but overhear us. He hired Barty and
myself on the spot to work on his wards once he realized what kind of business we run.”

Harry snickered and gestured at Tom to go on.

“Friday afternoon Barty and myself went to work at Gilderoy’s luxurious country estate
where he proceeded to obliviate us so he could steal our discovery for himself. What he
hadn’t counted on was that both Barty and myself were wearing protective charms.” Tom
stuck his hand down his blue pyjama shirt and fished out a gaudy, golden amulet in the form
of a scarab beetle. “During our port-key stopover in Cairo when we travelled to Lebanon, we
picked these up. The Egyptians are known for their excellent protective amulets so it makes
perfect sense for us to have these, as ward-masters and curse-breakers who have spent a
significant amount of time travelling.”

“I cannot wait to see your memory of Lockhart’s face when he realized his obliviates weren’t
working,” Harry said, bouncing in place at the thought of that arrogant peacock falling from
grace.

“It was glorious,” Tom confirmed with a smirk. “Barty called the Auror department, who
came at once. Gilderoy tried to claim we had attacked him, forcing him to retaliate, but Barty
and I immediately offered our memories of that afternoon to the Aurors. Barty also let slip
that he’d read all of Lockhart’s work and was a big fan, but that he’d always wondered about
all the inconsistencies in the books. Events that overlapped, details that didn’t add up, that
sort of thing. And that was enough for the Aurors to start an official investigation.”

“Excellent!” Harry sighed in sheer pleasure knowing that was one disgusting creep off the
streets. “I saw it mentioned very briefly in the Prophet this morning but there weren’t any
details yet.”

“No, the Aurors wanted to verify what else Lockhart had been up to before they made any
statements. I expect there to be an official announcement this Monday. Barty and I gave an
interview for the Prophet just this afternoon, explaining how we recovered Ravenclaw’s
diadem. They said they would run it together with Lockhart’s article after we told them what
he did to us.” Tom gave Harry an intent look. “Speaking of criminals, when are you hiring
your godfather a solicitor? Dorus mentioned you might want to hurry now that Arcturus is
dead. There’s no telling who might try to gain access to the Black estate without a rightful
heir in place, and the longer you wait the more difficult it might be to remove such a person
from power. Lucius already made a remark or two about trying to gain control over Black
Manor in Cumbria.”

Harry took a moment to remember how he’d set those plans in motion. He had so many
things happening simultaneously. He really needed to start writing things down. “I had Susan
ask Amelia Bones for the trial transcripts. I’m still waiting for her to get back to me saying
she couldn’t find any. Then I’ll have a public reason to start doubting Sirius did it in the first
place and I can hire him a solicitor to start digging for the truth and demand a trial. So
hopefully soon, maybe sometime this week now that Amelia has questioned Dumbledore
about keeping a bloody Cerberus in school during the Board of Governors meeting this
afternoon.”

“How did that go?” Tom asked with a curious curve of his brow.

Harry shrugged. “Not sure yet. We’ll probably hear tomorrow.”

They did indeed learn what had happened during the Board of Governors meeting the next
morning. Susan had received a letter from her aunt with all the details. Since it was dry
outside, at least for a while, they decided to go for a stroll around the grounds while Susan
told them what happened.
“Dumbledore was not happy about being questioned,” Susan said with a shy little smile. “He
tried to sabotage the interview a few times by implying the Board had no authority to
question his decisions concerning the everyday running of the school. Aunt Amelia had to
remind him that she certainly had the authority to question his actions should they endanger
anyone’s life, and a Cerberus in a school full of children certainly fit that description. Then
Dumbledore played it off as him doing his groundskeeper a favour, keeping the beast
contained after Hagrid purchased it but didn’t have a way to safely keep it in his own home.”

Harry shook his head at hearing that. Poor Hagrid. Always so loyal to Dumbledore and the
old goat was happy to throw him right in front of the bus at the first opportunity.

“Anyway, they did question him about hiding something in the school, but Dumbledore
denied this vehemently and brushed it off as rumours spread by overly imaginative school
children,” Susan said with a wary little sigh.

“What?” Justin said, echoed by Theo and Tracey.

“He announced it himself at the opening feast,” Ernie grumbled.

“Yes, but there is no evidence so there was nothing my aunt or the board could do,” Susan
said with a shrug. “Anyway, Dumbledore and Hagrid have to remove the Cerberus from the
school grounds within seven days or they’ll get fined and Dumbledore got an official warning
for student endangerment.”

“That’s it?” Daphne asked, right when Blaise said, “That’s all?”

“Nothing serious happened,” Harry explained, understanding politics and bureaucracy a bit
better than his young friends. “If a student had been hurt, that would have been a different
matter. But Dumbledore has many friends, even on the Board of Governors, and as a first
offense with no victims there wasn’t much more they could do against him at this time.”

“I suppose,” Neville said with a thoughtful frown. “I know my grandmother was very upset
about having a great big beast like that in a school.”

“I’m sure she was,” Harry said, patting Neville on the shoulder. “But at least they got
Dumbledore to answer for his child-endangering schemes and they got rid of the bloody
monster dog. That’s more than most have managed.”

There was some more muttering and grumbling about stupid adults and their stupid rules, the
way only children can dispense imaginary justice, and Harry listened to all of them with a
smile while they headed back inside the castle since more rain was on the horizon. They
spent the rest of the day in the Club House while Harry got a little jittery with excitement at
the idea of the upcoming headlines in the next day’s Daily Prophet. He couldn’t wait to see
the reaction from the students, both at Lockhart’s downfall and the discovery of Ravenclaw’s
diadem. Not to mention Dumbledore’s face when he saw Tom’s picture and interview. Harry
was looking forward to that most of all.

Harry all but skipped up the stairs on his way to breakfast the next morning, Theo and Blaise
trailing behind him while suffering from their normal Monday morning blues. Harry served
himself some eggs and a sausage roll while he waited impatiently for the Daily Prophet to be
delivered. Around him he heard soft gasps and sharp cries of shock from students all around
the hall who had already received the paper. Neville was one of them. His face paled
drastically as he looked down at the newspaper in his hand. At once, Neville jumped up and
rushed across the great hall towards Harry, paper in one hand, half-eaten sausage roll in the
other. He was joined by a small contingency of badgers once Susan shared her copy of the
Prophet with them.

Just then a barn owl dropped the paper in Harry’s lap and he licked his lips in anticipation of
seeing the headlines and took a big bite of his sausage roll to hide the smirk that was about to
form. But instead of seeing Tom and Barty smiling at him from the front page, he saw a
picture of another familiar face, looking somewhat confused and overwhelmed but clean and
shaven.

SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT!

SUNDAY EMERGENCY WIZENGAMOT MEETING OVERSEES LONG OVERDUE
TRIAL

Harry choked on his sausage roll.

What the fuck!

 Chapter 31
Chapter Summary

Harry deals with the shock, has an urgent conversation with his soulmate, does some
long-distance manipulating, and meets up with an old friend.

Chapter Notes

Instead of writing a chapter a day furiously and inevitably burning myself out, I'm trying
to spread out my writing over several days for a chapter and see how that goes. Hopefull
this is a more reasonable pace that works better with RL and will allow me to keep
writing for longer periods without needing some time off. Thanks for your support and
comments. They mean the world to me!

Chapter 31

Harry remembered McGonagall’s absolutely gobsmacked look when Harry had been sorted
into Slytherin. This was how Harry imagined his own expression right that moment; as
though someone had smacked him in the face with a dead mackerel.

“Harry,” Neville huffed as he made it to the Slytherin table. “Harry, I just saw.”

“I swear my aunt never mentioned any of this,” Susan assured him when she and the rest of
Harry’s Hufflepuff friends arrived.

Harry barely heard them as he stared at the page before him, heart hammering in his chest,
ears buzzing. Of all the things he had anticipated going differently since he got his do-over,
this wasn’t what he’d expected. At all.

A sharp sting of worry shot through Harry’s body when he realized this may very well be
Dumbledore’s doing, a bizarre plot to bring Harry to heel. But no, that didn’t make any sense.
Harry hadn’t really done anything yet to warrant such erratic behaviour from Dumbledore.
Sure, the old man might try to manipulate Sirius into making Harry do what Dumbledore
wanted, but Sirius himself was a bit of a wild card, having always been something of a rebel
going against expectations. Not to mention a decade of dementor damage wouldn’t be doing
Sirius’ ability to be an obedient pawn any favours either.

No, the more Harry considered it, the more convinced he became Dumbledore had nothing to
do with this. Harry glanced up at the head table, where he found Dumbledore’s chair empty.
“Wow, I did not see that coming,” Blaise mumbled as he read the article over Harry’s
shoulder. Theo occupied Harry’s other shoulder and made an affirmative sound.

The mirror heated up in Harry’s pocket, which meant Tom had also seen the Prophet and
probably had as many questions as Harry did.

As much as Harry wanted to believe this was Tom’s doing, as a nice surprise for his soulmate
or something, Harry knew Tom wouldn’t do something big like this, something so life-
changing for Harry, without consulting his soulmate first.

Because right there and then Harry realized his life might very well change for the worst if
Sirius tried to get custody of him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. How fucking ironic was it that for years and years in his
previous life he’d wanted nothing more than for Sirius to come take him away from the
Dursleys, to have Harry live with him so he’d finally have a real home where he was wanted
and cared for. And now when it had a real chance of finally happening Harry didn’t want it
anymore.

He was no longer a child longing for a home. He was a young adult with plots and plans that
required him to come and go as he pleased during his time away from Hogwarts. If he lived
with Sirius during the holidays that could very well be impossible and Harry’s plots and plans
were ruined.

Not to mention Harry planned to spend quite some time with Tom and how was he supposed
to explain that to Sirius, that an eleven-year-old boy wanted to spend unsupervised time with
an unrelated grown-ass man just for fun. Yeah, that might give his godfather some very
worrying ideas.

“Harry,” Neville said, placing a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, you can always go
to the hospital wing if you need some peace and quiet.”

Harry finally snapped out of his musings and realized he must appear to be in absolute shock
to his friends. Not that he wasn’t really in shock, because fucking hell. But instead of being in
shock about learning the truth about his parents’ murders, Harry was frantically trying to
come up with ways to keep his life on the rails now that something so unexpected had
happened that might very well turn his life upside down if he let it.

“I’m fine,” Harry whispered, which earned him an unconvinced snort from Theo. “Yeah,
okay, not fine, I am in shock, but I’ll be fine. Let me read this, see what’s going on.”

His friends stayed quiet as Harry skimmed the article, squeezing his eyes open and shut a few
times to stop the words from dancing across the page. Amelia Bones, dedicated law
enforcement officer that she was, had noticed the lack of trial, gone to Azkaban to talk to
Sirius and realized there was a good chance he was in fact innocent. So she’d convinced
Fudge to call the emergency meeting to oversee the trial. One quickly summoned solicitor
(Sybil Post, from Harper, Coldwell and Post, the firm Harry had wanted to hire for his
godfather), one dose of veritaserum and some clever arguing from said solicitor later, all
charges were dropped and Sirius had been released at once. Miss Post had also argued for
damages for the false imprisonment Sirius had suffered through the ministry’s incompetence
and had gotten Sirius five thousand galleons for every year he’d been incarcerated without a
trial. Currently Sirius was recovering in St Mungo’s where he was receiving the best medical
treatment money could buy, also provided by the ministry thanks to Miss Post’s negotiating
skills.

Harry briefly closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. So it was Amelia Bones who’d
simply done her job. And why should she involve an eleven-year-old child in that, no matter
that the child through his innocent questions had set her on the trail of this miscarriage of
justice in the first place. Harry understood why she hadn’t given him an explanation of what
was going on.

Harry was happy Sirius was out of Azkaban and declared innocent with all charges dropped,
he really was. But fucking hell did this complicate things.

His mirror heated up in his pocket again. Tom really wanted to talk to him and quite frankly,
Harry also wanted to talk to his soulmate to help gather his thoughts and perhaps come up
with some new plots and plans to help adjust to this situation.

“I need some air,” Harry said as he looked around at his friends, who were all staring at him
with worried frowns. “I’ll see you in history, I promise.”

“All right,” Neville said with a decisive nod and moved out of the way so Harry could stand
up. “See you soon.”

As Harry walked out the great hall, using all his energy to keep himself from running like he
wanted to, he glanced at the head table. McGonagall was reading the paper, face very pale,
lips tightly pursed. Snape sat ramrod straight, unmoving, staring down at the Prophet in his
hands, his complexion a pallid grey, practically the colour of a corpse. It looked like the man
had died right there and then and they simply hadn’t removed the body yet.

Once he reached the entrance hall Harry ran up the stairs and decided to go to the Club House
since it was a lot closer on the second floor than the Room of Requirement on the seventh
one.

Harry pulled the mirror out of his pocket before he’d even given the password to open the
door. The moment he threw the door shut behind him he flipped the mirror open. “Tom,” he
breathed in sheer relief, his hands trembling from the shock wearing off.

“Harry,” Tom said, eyes sharp and intent. “I do not mean to sound callous, but you have to
get on top of this. You have to get to your godfather before Dumbledore does.”

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, running his free hand over his eyes as he sank down on a sofa.
Dumbledore was far too clever not to immediately try to turn this situation around in his
favour, no matter how much he wouldn’t have wanted Sirius out of Azkaban as a free man.
“How? I’m stuck here, at least during the day. I might be able to sneak out tonight.”

“Send him a letter as soon as you can,” Tom said with some urgency. “Then ask McGonagall
if she’ll escort you to St Mungo’s. She was always very fond of your father and Black, she
won’t refuse you. Severus probably will.”

Harry snorted at the idea of going to Snape to ask the man to escort him to see Sirius. Then
he imagined Sirius’ face if Harry showed up in his hospital room with Snape in tow. “Yeah,
that way lies murder and mayhem.”

“What are you going to do about any custody suggestions from Black?” Tom asked, seeming
a little calmer now that Harry knew what to do about the situation.

“Not sure yet. Probably just tell him I want to keep living at the Dursleys and just visit him
from time to time. Which is just…” Harry couldn’t talk anymore, his throat closing from the
lump that suddenly formed. For years and years this had been his dream and now it was
impossible.

“Darling,” Tom whispered, voice soothing yet eyes worried. “I know how much you wanted
to live with your godfather once upon a time. But if you do that we won’t be able to spend
any time together during your holidays and none of the plans we have will work out the way
we want them to.”

“I know,” Harry said after swallowing a time or two to get rid of the bitter disappointment he
tasted. “Though, maybe if I tell Sirius the truth, he’ll let me do as I want even when living
together.”

Tom blinked.

“I could make him sign a secrecy contract, like the one you had Theo’s dad sign, right?”
Harry’s chest warmed with sheer hope at being able to make this work. “That way our secrets
would be safe and Sirius might be able to help us.”

“Do you honestly believe Sirius Black, bosom-buddy of James Potter, would ever let James’
son become close friends with James’ murderer?” Tom asked in a tone of voice that
suggested he was trying to be delicate but was also very close to losing his patience.

“Er…” Harry was grasping at straws, he knew he was, but he wanted this to work. “Maybe
not, but I could always tell him part of the truth. That I’m really eighteen and that I’ve died
and come back. And then we stick to you being your son.”

“Hmm.” Tom nodded while he appeared deep in thought. “That might work. I will prepare a
secrecy contract you can use on your godfather regardless and send it to you later today. Just
in case, do you know how to obliviate someone?”

“Sure,” Harry said, while he’d only ever really obliviated one Death Eater and wasn’t entirely
sure he hadn’t given the man permanent brain damage in the process. But he wasn’t giving up
now that this idea had lodged itself in his mind. He was getting Sirius on board with him.

“In any case, you should wait with telling Black any version of the truth until he’s released
from the hospital. St Mungo’s is not exactly a secure location no matter how many privacy
spells you cast,” Tom said with a pointed look and Harry nodded in agreement at once. That
was probably for the best, since that gave Harry a bit more time to decide how to break the
truth to his godfather. First he should probably determine Sirius’ mental state before sharing
any ground-breaking news. Harry remembered well how completely out of it Sirius had been
for the whole first year after he’d escaped Azkaban and simply roamed around Britain, hiding
as a dog, feebly trying to capture Wormtail through poorly thought out plots that were pretty
much doomed to fail. Harry liked to think Sirius had a better chance of recovering a lot
quicker with actual medical care in a hospital, but dementor damage was tricky so there was
no predicting what Sirius’ mental health was like at that time.

“Crap, I’m almost late for class,” Harry said with a sigh. He didn’t want to end their
conversation. He wanted to talk with Tom and listen to Tom come up with plots and plans
that would ensure their victory in the end. But that was wistful thinking and Harry knew he
needed to get back to reality and deal with the situation, no matter how shocking and
inconvenient.

“Call me after your classes are done today,” Tom insisted.

Harry nodded. “I’ve got history first thing, so I can write a letter to Sirius and send it off right
before lunch.”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Tom said when Harry still didn’t close his mirror, somehow finding
that simple action impossible to manage there and then, so Tom did it for him and closed his
own mirror, breaking their connection. Harry sighed, tucked his mirror away and made his
way to the history classroom with a few minutes to spare. Not that Binns would notice, but
Harry didn’t want to worry his friends or even have them come find him. Neville was just
such a concerned type of kid to launch a search and rescue mission because Harry had a
shock and was ten minutes late.

“I’m fine,” Harry said to a dubious looking Neville, an exasperated Theo and an amused
Blaise in the hallway. “Yeah, I know, I’m not fine, but I’m better. I’m going to write him a
letter.”

“So you believe he is truly innocent?” Theo asked quietly while they shuffled inside the
classroom one after the other.

“Yeah, my aunt always said she had a hard time believing he’d betrayed them,” Harry
answered, happily using Petunia to explain his eagerness to believe this new development.
Harry never would have thought Petunia would one day be so useful to him.

They settled at their desks and as Binns started to drone about one goblin war or another,
Harry got out some parchment and thought about what to write. He had to sound like an
eleven-year-old boy for starters, at least for now, but he also wanted Sirius to know he had a
very big hand in getting him out of Azkaban. Harry didn’t like the idea of manipulating his
godfather, but better he manipulate Sirius than Dumbledore, who would inevitably try to get
Sirius on his side. So Harry let his inner-Slytherin come up with some subtle manipulations
throughout the letter.

Dear Mr Black,
My name is Harry Potter and you are my godfather. My aunt Petunia always told me she
didn’t believe you would have betrayed my parents so when I got to Hogwarts I went digging
for information on your trial to see what you’d said about it. But then I couldn’t find any
news on your trial so I asked my friend Susan Bones’ aunt Amelia, who works for the magical
police, if she could send me a copy of your trial which she said she would. Except she got you
an actual trial instead, which is even better! I was so shocked and happy to see this morning
you got out of prison! I’m going to ask a professor if I can visit you soon because you are
family and I don’t have much family left outside of my aunt, uncle and cousin, so if you want
we can be family.

I will tell you a little about me. I’m eleven and I’m sorted into Slytherin. The Sorting Hat said
I would also do well in Gryffindor. Personally, I wanted Ravenclaw because I love learning
everything, but the hat said I was too ambitious for that so it sent me to Slytherin. I like it
there and I have a few friends there, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass and
Tracey Davis. But my best friend is Neville Longbottom. He’s in Gryffindor and we met on the
train and swore we’d stay friends no matter where we were sorted and we did! I’m also
friends with some Hufflepuffs, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan and Justin
Finch Fletchley. We spend all our time together, some in the library to study, we also like to
explore the castle and the grounds, and we have our own Club House where we turned an
empty classroom into our hangout with the help of some old furniture and some house-elves.
We also started an official student club called the Culture Club and we had our first meeting
just last week and lots of students showed up and it was a huge success.

But probably the thing I like doing most at Hogwarts is playing Quidditch. I got on the team!
During my first match I caught the snitch and we won, but then the Weasley twins smashed
my skull in and I was in a coma for a week in the hospital wing. I know you maybe won’t
believe me, but I think maybe I died a little bit and I saw my parents. My dad was shocked I
was sorted into Slytherin, but my mom said it didn’t matter at all! My dad was happy about
me playing Quidditch though, and my mom was happy about me wanting to learn all the
magic. They said I couldn’t stay with them (even though I really wanted to, I’d never met my
parents before!) but that they were fine and that I shouldn’t worry about them and just live my
life the way I wanted to.

I hope I can meet you soon, Mr Black and I hope you get better soon and can leave the
hospital. I have a secret I don’t know if I should tell you, but I asked the goblins about you
when I first visited the bank and they told me the address of your home and I went there and
made friends with your house-elf Kreacher. I hope you don’t mind me making friends with
your elf, but Kreacher is one of my best friends and he’s been very helpful and he’s given me
a few things that belonged to your brother Regulus, like lots of books and his book bag and I
hope I can keep them because I really like them but if not I’ll give them back.

Thanks for reading my letter and I hope to meet you soon.

Your godson,

Harry Potter

Just as Harry put the finishing touches to his letter the class ended. Harry folded the letter
haphazardly and hurried out the room. “I’m going to run to the owlery,” Harry said over his
shoulder to Theo and Blaise. He knew he probably wouldn’t make it back in time for
transfiguration, but he also hoped this was a way to help convince McGonagall to let him see
Sirius, if she saw Harry was willing to be late for class to send his godfather a letter.

Hedwig was very happy to deliver a letter for him and didn’t even bat an eye when Harry told
her to hurry as this was a very important letter. Harry ran all the way to the transfiguration
classroom but was still five minutes late.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry puffed before McGonagall could even open her mouth to scold him
for his tardiness. “But my godfather just got out of prison and I had to send him a letter and it
couldn’t wait and I will work extra hard this class to make up for it, promise.”

As predicted, McGonagall got a little misty eyed at the mention of her former student,
probably feeling more than a bit guilty for having believed Sirius would actually betray
James and Lily and little Harry to their deaths.

“Don’t let it happen again, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said with a tight nod before going back to
explaining their new assignment.

“Smooth,” Blaise whispered while Theo snorted as Harry sat down in between them as
they’d saved him a seat. Harry winked at them and got his book and notebook out to take
notes. McGonagall’s lecture was on something Harry had known about for years so he could
use that time to decide how to approach his former Head of House about taking him to see
Sirius. And while Harry had no problem letting his Slytherin side manipulate his professor as
much as needed, Harry also knew McGonagall had an uncanny ability to see through
people’s bullshit. So the manipulation had to be subtle or McGonagall would never go for it.

“Professor,” Harry said politely once class ended and students were leaving. “Can I ask you
for a favour?”

“That depends on the favour, Mr Potter.” McGonagall didn’t look very impressed with him to
start with so Harry looked down at his shoes and tried to portray a contrite yet eager student.

“I don’t want to bother the headmaster, and you’re the deputy headmistress so I’m sure you
can give me permission as well,” Harry all but mumbled.

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Permission for what?”

“To visit my godfather. He’s spent over a decade alone in prison with horrible soul-sucking
monsters and on top of that his grandfather died just last week so now he doesn’t have any
family to visit him except me.” Harry inhaled a deep breath and looked up at McGonagall
with wide eyes. “I’ve researched it, I swear, Professor. I can take the Knight Bus, I’ve got
money for the fare, and it will take me to St Mungo’s. I just need permission from you to go
after classes.”

“Mr Potter, I cannot let a first year student take the Knight Bus alone to visit someone in the
hospital.” McGonagall’s tone was stern but her eyes were softening. Harry hadn’t lost his
chance to win her over yet.
Harry swallowed. “I would ask Professor Snape to take me since he’s my Head of House, but
my aunt Petunia told me some stories about my dad and his friends and Professor Snape and I
don’t think that would be a good idea.”

McGonagall managed to keep a straight face at the sheer understatement of Harry’s

suggestion but she did clear her throat, perhaps to mask a snort or smile. Or both. “Indeed,
Mr Potter. I would take you myself but we have a staff meeting this afternoon after classes
end so I won’t be available.”

Bugger. Harry bit his lip, hoping to appear a bit heart-broken as he lowered his gaze and
offered McGonagall a sad little nod. “I understand. I suppose there’s no other staff member
that can take me then if you all have to be at the meeting.”

“Perhaps Hagrid might take you. I do believe he’d be fine missing one staff meeting and he
has been hoping to get an introduction with you,” McGonagall said with a tight little smile.
“He was ever so disappointed he wasn’t needed to take you shopping for your school
supplies.”

Harry perked up and offered McGonagall a bright grin. “The gamekeeper? He seems like a
nice man, what I’ve heard of him. I’d be fine with him taking me if that would be allowed,
Professor.”

“I will arrange for it. You should meet Hagrid outside the entrance doors after your classes
end and he’ll take you with the Knight Bus.” McGonagall gestured towards the door. “Now
off to lunch with you, Mr Potter.”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry all but bounced in place. “Thanks so much!” He ran out the
classroom and almost bumped into Neville, who stood waiting for him with Theo and Blaise.

“I’m going to visit Sirius this afternoon,” Harry said, not having to fake any enthusiasm at the
idea of seeing his godfather again. “Hagrid is taking me on the Knight Bus after classes.”

“The gamekeeper?” Blaise asked while he wrinkled his nose.

“It’s an odd choice to escort you to the hospital,” Theo agreed.

“He’s really nice,” Neville said, sounding a bit offended on Hagrid’s behalf.

“There’s a staff meeting this afternoon, otherwise McGonagall would have taken me. But
Hagrid can miss a staff meeting apparently, and the deputy headmistress and Head of
Gryffindor can’t.” Harry offered his friends a grin. “Now let’s get lunch. I barely ate this
morning from the shock and I’m starving.”

“I’m glad you get to meet your godfather,” Neville said earnestly as they strolled towards the
Great Hall. Harry nodded at him, knowing that Neville was in a unique position to
understand how much a long lost pseudo-family member might mean to Harry.

And Sirius did mean a great deal to Harry. In fact, the thought of seeing him again filled
Harry’s stomach with all sorts of nervous jitters. Losing Sirius the way he had was one of the
most traumatizing events of Harry’s previous life. The suddenness of the loss, losing the
connection to his family that Sirius represented, the injustice to Sirius personally, it all had
messed Harry up pretty badly. He’d dreamt about Sirius falling through the veil for years
afterwards and only seeing Sirius again briefly thanks to the resurrection stone had started the
healing process for Harry.

And now Harry got a second chance with Sirius. On the one hand Harry was terrified to get
close to Sirius again, not wanting to go through all that pain again should he lose Sirius for
whatever reason. But on the other hand Harry was determined to have a better relationship
with Sirius this time around. Harry was older now, more mature, not as much in need of a
father figure that he’d wanted before and Sirius wasn’t able to provide due mainly to so much
dementor exposure. But Harry could be there for Sirius this time around, more so than when
he’d been younger.

Then again, Sirius might very well reject Harry for being a Slytherin. Sirius had always hated
Slytherins and perhaps his brain was damaged enough from a decade in Azkaban that he’d
still be stuck with such a childish attitude, unable to accept his godson for who he was instead
of a carbon copy of James Potter.

And that wasn’t even counting any of the manipulations Dumbledore might throw at Sirius.

Yes, there were still lots of things that might go wrong with their reunion, hence the nervous
jitters taking over Harry’s belly. Thankfully they didn’t keep Harry from enjoying a full plate
at lunch. He hadn’t been lying about being famished.

Before double defence in the afternoon, Harry ducked into a bathroom, silenced a cubicle and
quickly called Tom to let him know he’d be going to see Sirius that afternoon and wouldn’t
be calling him like they’d previously agreed upon.

“They’re sending Hagrid with you?” Tom asked with a frown and a small, distasteful wrinkle
of his nose.

Harry sighed. What was it with Slytherins and their attitude towards poor Hagrid. “He’s the
only one available and he’s a really nice man.”

“I’m sure,” Tom replied smoothly, though his eyes spoke of endless amusement courtesy of
Harry’s indignant expression. “But he’s also a man who’s not allowed to do magic so how
could he ever really protect you if something went wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong and whose fault is it that he can’t do magic?” Harry demanded. Tom
had nothing to say to that. “You framed him. Isn’t there a way to unframe him? Get him off
for the crimes he didn’t commit in the first place so he can legally own a wand again?”

Tom’s eyebrows rose as he looked at Harry in disbelief. “And how do you suggest I do that?
How did you manage it last time?”

“Er…” Harry fell quiet as he tried to remember what exactly had happened. “It had to do
with your diary horcrux. Somehow Dumbledore used that to convince the ministry Hagrid
was innocent.” Harry looked at Tom in confusion. “But that doesn’t make any sense. There
was no hard evidence. Hagrid spent some time in Azkaban while there were more attacks
during my second year, but that proves nothing about what happened fifty years ago, does it?
Unless Dumbledore always had the power to influence enough people at the ministry to
overturn Hagrid’s sentence but he simply refused to act on it earlier.”

“Knowing the old man, that seems entirely possible,” Tom agreed with a snort. “Keep him
wandless and uneducated for as long as it suits Dumbledore, while he could have seen his
conviction overturned decades ago.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed quietly, filled with disbelief that Dumbledore might have screwed over
Hagrid’s life intentionally by keeping him bound to Hogwarts. Why hadn’t he considered that
before?

“Don’t you have class?” Tom asked when Harry was lost in thought and remained quiet.

“Yeah, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I get back.”

“You’ll be fine, my dear. Just do your breathing exercises,” Tom said with a kind smile to
show he wasn’t teasing.

Harry nodded. “See you later.” And with that he snapped his mirror shut and hurried towards
defence. They had an hour of theory, which might as well have lasted a week for how slow
the time seemed to go for Harry. The next hour was a practical which was a little bit better. At
least Harry could redirect his nervous energy into hexing Lavender Brown time after time,
and even get points for it in the end. After class, Harry rushed towards his dormitory to drop
off his bookbag, freshen up and grab his coat. Then he ran all the way to the entrance hall
where he saw Hagrid already waiting for him through the opened doors.

“Harry,” Hagrid said, large smile mostly obscured by his wild beard. “So nice ter be meeting
yeh.”

“Hi, Mr Hagrid. It’s good to meet you, too.” Harry beamed up at Hagrid. He’d always loved
Hagrid, and the only reason he’d kept his distance from Hagrid so far was to give
Dumbledore one less way to try to get control over him. But that didn’t mean that Harry
hadn’t missed Hagrid, because he had.

“Just Hagrid. Now, let’s get yeh to meet yer godfather.” Hagrid waved a huge hand towards
the entrance gates in the distance. “We’ll walk towards Hogsmeade and yeh can summon the
Knight Bus there.”

Harry experienced a warm wave of nostalgia when he had to almost jog to keep up with
Hagrid and his enormous strides. They chatted about all sorts of meaningless things. Hagrid’s
fascination with magical beasts, Harry’s fascination with ancient runes and his love for
Quidditch. Their conversation continued on the Knight Bus, which didn’t seem very busy that
time of the afternoon so they found themselves in central London within half an hour. Harry
still didn’t understand how the bus could bridge such long distances in such short amount of
time, but he was determined to find out one day what types of magic made that possible.
“Here’s the visitor entrance,” Hagrid said while guiding Harry inside the hospital through the
window of the abandoned department store. A witch in the reception area directed them to
the fourth floor, spell damage. Harry was confused for a moment why Sirius would need to
stay in that department until he remember it also housed the long-term residents’ ward and
they were probably the department with the most experience in brain damage.

As they took the elevator up Harry’s insides were twisting themselves into knots. What if
Sirius wanted custody of him? What if Sirius didn’t want custody of him? What if Sirius
didn’t want anything to do with him?

“Here yeh go, Harry,” Hagrid said once they found the right room. “I’ll wait out here for yeh.
Go on.”

Harry collected every scrap of Gryffindor courage he still had, no matter the colour of his tie,
knocked loudly and then pushed the door to Sirius’ hospital room open.
 Chapter 32
Chapter Summary

Harry visits Sirius. He's not the only one.

Chapter Notes

So far so good! Writing smaller chunks each day seems to be working well and
hopefully I'll keep this up and get a chapter out once or twice a week, depending on how
busy RL keeps me. As always, thanks so much for reading and commenting. Your
support helps me to keep writing.

Chapter 32

The first thing Harry saw inside Sirius’ room was Bellatrix Lestrange giving him a curious
look.

Harry blinked, then blinked again, and wanted to hit himself for almost making the same
mistake twice.

Andromeda Tonks quirked an eyebrow at him in a silent question of what he was doing there.

“Hi,” Harry said shyly, playing up his youth a bit. “I’m looking for my godfather Sirius
Black. I’m Harry Potter.”

Andromeda’s expression softened a bit and she waved him further into the room.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks…Nymphadora Tonks that was, looked so happy to meet him her
blue hair turned a bright pink.

“Hello,” Harry mumbled and offered Ted Tonks, who was seated in a chair in the corner, a
little wave. Ted Tonks looked just as friendly and portly as when Harry had first met him. For
a moment Harry had to swallow against a lump when he remembered that both Ted and
Nymphadora hadn’t survived the war. Andromeda had taken little Teddy, Harry’s godson,
with her to stay with distant cousins in France during the summer after the end of the war.
Harry hadn’t pressed her about seeing his godson, understanding Andromeda needed time to
grieve the losses she’d suffered. And frankly, Harry had enough on his own mind to worry
about a baby those first few months right after the war. But he had loved the idea of being a
godfather and he had loved little Teddy the one time he’d met him very briefly, when
Andromeda had arranged for an introduction before she all but fled the country.

So that was one more thing to add to his list of stuff to do: introduce Tonks to Lupin and hope
whatever sparks there once where would still be there in this new version of their world.
Harry wanted to be a godfather again eventually and he needed their help with that. Then
again, Tonks did look quite young still and Harry realized that she’d only just finished
Hogwarts the year before. And Lupin was already at least thirty. Ah well, who cared. Harry
planned to one day in the future do some very sexy things with a man old enough to be his
grandfather. He was sure Tonks hooking up with Lupin even now would be fine. It was legal,
at any rate.

“Harry,” a familiar raspy voice said in wonderment.

Harry turned towards the voice and saw Sirius sitting up in the hospital bed, staring at him in
something close to disbelief.

“Sirius,” Harry said before he could stop himself. There sat his godfather, looking thin and
tired, with dark shadows under his eyes, but alive. So alive. Grey eyes sharp and shiny,
cracked lips drawn up in a tentative smile, teeth already fixed and looking whole and white.

“Harry,” Sirius said, smile growing even bigger.

“Sirius,” Harry replied, trying very hard not to burst into tears like a rather large part of him
wanted to do.

“Tonks,” said Tonks and then giggled. “Sorry, I thought we were introducing ourselves.”

“Dora,” Andromeda said with a shake of her head and a tired sigh. “Show some decorum.”

“Are you family?” Harry asked, looking between everyone in the room. “I thought Sirius had
no more family after his grandfather died so that’s why I came to see him right away so he
wouldn’t be alone.”

“That is very kind of you,” Andromeda said with an approving smile that reminded Harry
eerily of McGonagall somehow.

“This is my cousin Andromeda Tonks. That’s Ted, the husband and Nymphadora, the
daughter, my baby cousin,” Sirius said as he waved at each individual.

“Don’t call me that,” Tonks said, pink hair darkening to a foreboding purple. “Call me
Tonks,” she added with a wink at Harry.

“And this is my godson, Harry Potter,” Sirius continued as though Tonks hadn’t spoken,
gesturing at Harry as he stood beside Sirius’ bed. “James Potter’s sprog who somehow made
it into Slytherin.”

“You got my letter!” Harry beamed at Sirius, though his stomach did a nervous flip. This was
it. Sirius would accept him. Or not.
“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” Andromeda demanded, hands on her hips and head tilted as
she gave Sirius a challenging glare.

“Nothing,” Sirius said at once, looking a little bit like a surprised mouse cornered by a viper
it had initially thought was an ordinary garden hose. “I’d forgotten you were a Slytherin,
Andy,” he mumbled, sounding just a tad embarrassed.

“I like it in Slytherin,” Harry declared, feeling just a bit relieved that so far Sirius seemed to
take that particular twist rather well. “Though rooming with Draco Malfoy has its challenges.
I’ve never met a more spoiled boy in my life. But everyone else is fine.”

Tonks snorted. “That I believe. He’s our cousin, too, did you know?”

Harry gaped at her. “Draco Malfoy is your cousin?” He glanced at Sirius who looked like he
still couldn’t quite believe Harry was there to visit him.

“Yes,” Andromeda said with a patient smile. “Narcissa Malfoy is my sister. But we haven’t
spoken in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said sincerely.

“Nah,” Tonks said, with a dismissive little wave. “You’ve seen Draco. That should tell you
enough about his parents.”

Harry nodded in understanding, knowing all too well what Draco’s parents were like. He’d
never liked Lucius, arrogant tosspot that he was, but after Narcissa had saved his life in the
clearing he did have something of a soft spot for her. Harry hadn’t forgotten that Narcissa
was one of the few people who hadn’t voted in favour of his execution. “So you got my
letter,” Harry said, changing the subject quickly because there were quite a few things he
needed to discuss with Sirius in the little amount of time they had that afternoon. “Can I
please keep Regulus’ books, that Kreacher gave me? Please?” Harry did his best impression
of a pleading child, eyes round and bottom lip sticking out. Sirius gave him a brief nod, still
looking like he had trouble coming up with something to say.

“Kreacher?” Ted wondered out loud. “Is that cranky elf still alive?”

“He’s really nice and one of my best friends,” Harry declared as he gave Ted a suspicious
look.

“Nice isn’t how I would describe him,” Andromeda said with an amused chuckle. “But he
was always very loyal to Regulus. He must genuinely like you, Harry, if he gave you
Regulus’ books.”

“Yeah, you have to tell me how you managed to win that old bastard over,” Sirius finally said
as he leaned back against his pillows a little. “He certainly never liked me.”

“He really doesn’t seem to like you very much,” Harry said quietly while ducking his head a
little, as though embarrassed to have to bring that up. “And I was just happy to meet him and
talk to him. And from there we became friends.”
“I have always told you, Sirius, that house-elves respond well to kindness,” Andromeda said
in the sort of tone that made it sound like an often repeated argument.

Sirius waved her words away and looked at Harry. “What on earth made you go to that
gloomy house in the first place?”

Harry shrugged, staring at his shoes. “I got the address from the goblins and I wanted to see if
there maybe were any portraits there who could tell me about magic and your family and the
wizarding world and stuff. I tried talking to your mother’s portrait but she wasn’t very happy
to see me. But Kreacher was!”

Sirius barked a laugh that transformed into a raspy cough. He grabbed a glass of water from
the side-table and took a big gulp before speaking. “That old hag had a portrait made? I pity
the painter, I really do.”

“Anyway, I’ve been visiting that house all summer, reading in the library and Kreacher made
me lunch and answered all my questions. I really like it,” Harry said happily. He knew he
couldn’t hide the fact that he had been visiting Grimmauld Place and had a good relationship
with Sirius’ house-elf so he’d decided to just own up to all of that and perhaps plant the seeds
in Sirius’ head that he shouldn’t get rid of the house or elf without offering them to Harry
first.

Andromeda looked a little worried at Harry’s confession. “There are some dangerous books
in that library.”

“Kreacher made sure I only read the safe ones. He told me I could read the rest when I was
older and could use magic to keep myself safe. I can’t wait!”

“So you weren’t lying when you wrote that you wanted to go to Ravenclaw,” Sirius said with
a chuckle.

“I’ll go find us some tea,” Ted offered as he got up from his seat. “Since this is turning out to
be quite the lengthy reunion.” He disappeared out the door while Andromeda sat down in the
empty chair.

“Are you going to live in Grimmauld Place or in your castle in Cumbria?” Harry asked,
leaning against the bed as he looked up at Sirius.

“My what in Cumbria?” Sirius asked in obvious confusion.

“Theo said the Black family had a castle there where your grandfather lived.”

“It’s not a castle, Harry, but an old manor house,” Andromeda said as she leaned back in the
chair and shifted her attention to Sirius. “And you could move into the old manor, Sirius. You
could redecorate and it’s quiet up there, which would help your recovery.”

“I guess I’ll move in there, at least at first,” Sirius said before he wrinkled his nose in
distaste. “I’m definitely not moving into Grimmauld Place.”
“My offer to stay at our home still stands,” Andromeda added which got her a few nods from
Sirius, who shifted in his bed a little to stare down at Harry.

“Harry, your parents wanted me to have custody of you,” Sirius said, grey eyes intent as he
seemed to struggle to find the right words. “So you can live with me if you want.”

“Sirius,” Andromeda said sternly as she narrowed her eyes. “Harry has a family he lives with.
You can’t expect the boy to just pack up his whole life and move away from the only family
he’s known to move in with you while you’re still in recovery.”

“Er…” Harry looked between Andromeda and Sirius in confusion, while on the inside he was
jumping for joy. Andromeda had just given him the perfect excuse to postpone any decisions
to move in with his godfather to at least the summer holidays, which gave Harry plenty of
time to make sure everything would work out in his favour.

“No, I didn’t mean…” Sirius sighed and rubbed a trembling hand down his face. “Of course
you already live with family. Do you like it there?”

“Sirius,” Andromeda hissed in warning.

“The Dursleys are fine,” Harry said with a shrug, though it pained him to do so. But Harry
knew, now that he was older, that his reaction to Sirius’ offer to live with him in his previous
life should have raised several red flags with anyone who knew of it. No well-adjusted child
would simply agree to live with a grown man they met an hour before just because he knew
their parents. Godfather was after all an honorary title but held no legal power or obligation.
And nowadays Harry couldn’t have anyone nosing around in his personal life too intensively,
and Andromeda was a very intelligent woman who probably would do just that if she
suspected Harry was receiving less than proper care at home. “They’re muggles and they’re a
little scared of magic, but they don’t bother me with that. Also, Aunt Petunia told me that
there are special wards around the house that keep us all safe as long as I live there.” Harry
shrugged again to illustrate that this was all old news to him and didn’t concern him in the
slightest.

“Right,” Sirius said, swallowing his obvious disappointment away, or trying to at least.

“But I’d love to visit,” Harry said, hoping to cheer his godfather up. He still wanted to
eventually push for Sirius to get custody of him, but later in the schoolyear, so Sirius had
time to recover and Harry had time to adjust his plans if needed, and he could use the
upcoming holidays to try to tell Sirius at least part of the truth and see how he took that.

“Of course,” Sirius said, some colour returning to his pale cheeks. “You can even visit over
the Yule holidays if you want.”

“I’d love to,” Harry said sincerely and shared a smile with Andromeda, who seemed pleased
with these much more reasonable plans for the immediate future.

Ted returned, carrying a tray with five steaming cups on it. “I tried to invite Hagrid to join us
but he was visiting with Frank and Alice Longbottom. They seemed at least interested to see
him.”
“Neville is my best friend,” Harry said as he accepted a cup of tea from Ted. “It’s really sad
what happened to his parents.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, cupping his tea between his hands while he frowned at Harry. “About
your friends…you mentioned a Theodore Nott. Son of Theodorus Nott?”

“Yes,” Harry said quietly, stomach sinking at the dubious look Sirius was giving him.

“I don’t think that’s the kind of child you should be associating with,” Sirius said, seemingly
oblivious to the rising tension in the room. Harry swallowed his temper down, but
Andromeda did no such thing.

“Sirius Black!” Andromeda snapped, eyes narrowing to slits.

“What?” Sirius looked honestly surprised by Andromeda’s sharp rebuke. “That kid’s father is
a Death Eater, one of You Know Who’s oldest supporters, and you want Harry to spend time
with him?”

“Theo is not his father,” Harry said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “For one, he
wants to be a healer.”

“How right you are, Harry,” Andromeda said before focussing her wrath on her cousin. “My
sister put poor Neville Longbottom’s parents here, right up the hall. Do you believe you
shouldn’t be associating with us because we have a few rotten apples in the family?”

“No,” Sirius said, putting his cup of tea down and holding up his hands in surrender. “That’s
different.”

“It’s really not,” Tonks said, her usually smiling face looking utterly serious. “When I applied
for the Auror department they interviewed me extensively about my family connections to
dear auntie Bellatrix and all her foul deeds. They accepted me in the department anyway,
because they do understand that I’m my own person and what my aunt did doesn’t say
anything about my character. That’s something you still have to learn it seems.”

Sirius released an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, let my godson associate with whoever he likes.
Maybe he can become best friends with You Know Who himself while he’s at it.”

Harry choked on his own spit and coughed a few times. “Sorry,” he muttered. “My tea went
down the wrong way.”

Tonks snickered at him and looked like she wanted to ruffle his hair, but since Harry’s hair
was long and tied back she probably didn’t dare mess it up completely. Harry narrowed his
eyes at her. She’d better not dare mess up his hair.

Ted drained his tea cup and smiled at Harry. “Sirius told us you were the reason Amelia
Bones finally went to visit him in Azkaban and realized he hadn’t had a trial.”

“Yes,” Harry said, turning to look at Ted. He was so glad Ted brought this up, so Harry could
start sowing some seeds of doubts in Sirius when it came to Dumbledore. “I wanted to read
about his trial but I couldn’t find anything. So I asked Susan, my friend, if her aunt would
help me, and Amelia Bones did.” Harry frowned as though deep in thought as he looked
between Ted and Sirius. “Though that does make me wonder why Professor Dumbledore
never realized you hadn’t had a trial.”

“What?” Sirius asked as he looked at Harry in obvious confusion.

“I mean, it only took Amelia Bones one visit with you to realize you still needed an actual
trial. And you worked for Professor Dumbledore during the war, right? My aunt Petunia told
me that.” Harry shrugged as if all of this seemed completely logical to him. “So when
Dumbledore came to talk to you, to see why you supposedly betrayed us and him and
everyone, why didn’t he realize you never had a trial?”

“Huh,” Ted said, while Sirius looked as if he’d been struck speechless for a few moments.

“Dumbledore never talked to me, though, after they threw me into Azkaban,” Sirius finally
said after he found his voice again.

“And why not?” Andromeda asked no one in particular. “Harry’s right about that. You were a
member of his order. The very least he could have done is question you to see what had really
happened.”

“Especially because Dumbledore is the boss of the Wizengamot,” Harry pointed out, just to
add a little more doubt. “You’d think he would know you hadn’t had a trial since that’s his
job, to make sure people have trials.”

“Was Dumbledore already Chief Warlock back then?” Tonks asked as she looked between
her parents.

“Yes,” Ted said, his usually jovial expression darkening just a bit. “And he should have made
sure you got a trial, Sirius.”

Harry glanced between everyone in the room and wanted to smile, but he controlled himself
and instead looked politely interested at what was being said. But on the inside he was
cheering for how everyone was questioning Dumbledore. Not enough for them to renounce
any loyalty to the old man entirely, Harry made himself no illusions about that, but hopefully
enough that they would think about any possible motivations Dumbledore might have in the
future instead of blindly believing whatever the man said. And that was a good start in slowly
but surely chipping away at Dumbledore’s loyal following.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed in Dumbledore and his lack of interest in my case,” Sirius
said as he rubbed his face, looking more tired by the minute. “I’ll ask him about it the next
time I see him.” Sirius peered down at Harry and curved an eyebrow. “And what was this you
wrote about getting your skull cracked open?”

“What?” Andromeda asked, eyes widening as she stared at Harry.

“They let him on the Quidditch team,” Sirius explained as Harry self-consciously ran a hand
over his scalp as if to check his skull was still in one piece.
“A first-year?” Andromeda demanded, just as Tonks said, “Cool.”

Harry grinned at Tonks. “Yeah, I thought so. And I won the game when I caught the snitch!
But then the Weasley twins came at me at the same time and cracked my skull open. My
friends told me you could see my brain and everything and that Professor Snape did magic to
make sure it didn’t fall out of my head.”

“This is why they shouldn’t let first years play,” Andromeda stated, throwing up her hands in
emphasis.

“Snape?” Sirius demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You mean Snivellus?”

God, Harry had forgotten about that horrible nickname. “That’s not a very nice thing to call
someone,” Harry said with all the indignancy he could muster. He wasn’t Snape’s biggest fan
or ever would be, but that nickname had always bothered him. Sirius and his dad had started
using it when they were eleven, for fuck’s sake. You’d think his godfather would have grown
out of it by now.

“Well, Snape’s not a very nice chap, now is he?” Sirius replied, proving once and for all that
yes, Harry as an eighteen-year-old in a child’s body was more mature than his thirty-
something godfather.

Harry glared at Sirius and he didn’t even have to act to do it. Sirius’ childish attitude when it
came to certain people had always bothered Harry. “Professor Snape is my Head of House,
and he’s been helpful and saved my life when my brain almost fell out of my head. He also
defended me when Professor Dumbledore seemed to believe I’d cursed the Weasley twins
with a very dark curse which I didn’t do.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Andromeda said with a huff. “So Dumbledore is up to his old tricks
again with him accusing any Slytherin in sight of whatever crime has been committed.”

Harry grinned at her. “That’s exactly what some older Slytherins I know said about
Dumbledore’s behaviour.”

“What curse?” Ted asked while Sirius looked between Harry and Andromeda with a churlish
glare.

“Someone, not me, cursed the Weasley twins by mail with a class 2 nightmare curse,” Harry
explained dutifully. “They’re still in the hospital wing, but they should be snapping out of it
soon, I think.”

“Wow,” Tonks said, eyes wide as her purple hair brightened to pink again. “That’s no
innocent little hex. A curse like that can really mess with your mind.”

“I guess,” Harry said with the kind of careless shrug an eleven-year-old would give in the
face of other people’s suffering. “I sure don’t know how to cast it, no matter what
Dumbledore thinks.”
“Of course not,” Tonks said with a chuckle. “Plenty of Aurors I know wouldn’t know how to
cast something like that. It takes a lot of power and skill.”

There was a soft knock on the door and Tonks, who stood closest, went to open it. Harry saw
a familiar face look at Tonks in surprise. Wearing patched robes with a fraying collar, hands
clasped nervously, Remus Lupin peered over Tonks’ shoulder into the room. “I was told this
is Sirius Black’s room.”

“Moony?” Sirius asked, earlier grumpiness over Harry’s passionate defence of Snape quickly
forgotten.

“Sirius,” Remus said, shuffling inside as Tonks stepped out of the way to let him in while
offering him a bright smile.

That was one less thing Harry had to take care of, he was pleased to note. Project godson was
officially underway.

“Moony,” Sirius said with a watery smile and bright eyes. “It’s good to see you.”

Lupin seemed a little intimidated to see so many people in the room but he made it to Sirius’
bed. “I’m so sorry for ever believing you’d betray James and Lily, Sirius,” Remus said while
he looked down at his own scuffed shoes.

“It’s in the past,” Sirius quickly assured him. “I’m sorry I ever believed you might be the spy.
Let’s just forget about all that. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“It’s good to see you,” Lupin said with a nod of agreement, and didn’t protest when Sirius
grabbed his arm and hauled him in for a brief embrace. When they broke apart again, Lupin
looked around the room with a bit more attention, taking in everyone’s faces until he landed
on Harry.

Lupin’s mouth fell open. “Harry? Is that…what are…shouldn’t you…Why is your tie green?”

Harry grinned up at him. “My tie is green because I was sorted into Gryffindor. Obviously.”

Sirius barked a laugh in response and gave Harry a huge smile. It seemed Harry was already
forgiven for his earlier defence of Snape.

“You must be Remus Lupin,” Harry said before Lupin could respond though he looked at
Harry in obvious amusement. “Aunt Petunia mentioned you were friends with my mum and
dad.”

“Yes, I was very good friends with them,” Lupin said softly, looking Harry up and down. “It’s
good to see you again, Harry. Are you enjoying Hogwarts? And how did you get here? Did
you sneak out?” Lupin suddenly looked rather worried for Harry’s sake.

“Nah, Hagrid took me. McGonagall would have but she had a staff meeting.” Harry didn’t
get a chance to say more because there was a loud knock, more of a bang, on the door. Speak
of the gamekeeper and he shall appear.
The door creaked open and Hagrid stuck his head in, wild hair and bushy beard filling most
of the doorway. “Oh, there’s more people in here than I thought there’d be.”

“Hagrid,” Sirius said while leaning over a little on his bed so he could see the doorway that
was tucked away in a little alcove. “Good to see you.”

“Still got yer bike,” Hagrid boomed as he waved a big hand at Sirius. “Good to see yer free,
Sirius.” Then he looked at Harry. “Sorry that I forgot about the time, Harry. I was talkin’ ter
Frank and Alice, catching up.”

Harry checked his watch and realized dinner time at Hogwarts had already started. They
probably wouldn’t make it back in time before it ended. “I guess we should go, right?”

“Yeh, time ter go,” Hagrid said with a kind smile.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me visit again,” Harry said earnestly to his godfather, who looked
rather disappointed he had to go already. “But I’ll write. Hedwig loves long flights so she’ll
enjoy bringing you letters.”

“I’ll write back, promise,” Sirius said while placing a bony hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And
you can come over for Yule for a few days if you want.”

“I’d like that.” Harry swallowed away some emotions that wanted to rise up and make the
whole situation much more embarrassing. “I’ll see you during the holidays for sure. Bye,
everyone!”

There was a chorus of goodbyes from everyone in the room and Harry gave a few waves
while he left the room. Hagrid stood waiting for him and gestured him towards the elevators.

“Hagrid, I don’t think we’ll make it back to school for dinner,” Harry said as they rode the
elevator down. “How about I treat you to some Muggle food as a thank you for taking me to
see Sirius?”

“If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t say no ter trying some Muggle food,” Hagrid said with a
downright shy smile.

“I insist,” Harry said and once they left the hospital Harry led the way to the nearest
McDonalds, where he ordered just about everything on the menu for them to share, paying
with the pounds he kept in his money pouch beside his galleons. Well, Harry had a
McChicken and a large fries. Hagrid had everything else and proclaimed it ‘really good for
Muggle food’. Sitting at a rickety table and chatting with one of his oldest friends while
enjoying greasy food was a great way to end that rather eventful day, Harry decided.

Of course, Harry should have known something was bound to go wrong again, since that
seemed to be how Harry’s life insisted on going.

The moment they stepped foot back into the castle, after a reasonably quick ride on the
Knight bus, Dumbledore approached them, smiling genially while his eyes were sharp as
they assessed Harry. “Ah, Harry, my boy, could you spare me a few moments of your time
and join me in my office for a little chat?”

“Of course, Professor,” Harry said with a politely puzzled expression, as though he didn’t
have a clue why the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts would want a chat with him. And
when he thought about it as he followed Dumbledore through the castle after saying his
goodbyes to Hagrid, Harry realized he wasn’t actually sure what Dumbledore would want to
talk about since so much had happened in such a short amount of time.

Was it about the Culture Club? Was it about the Philosopher’s Stone and the sudden lack of
Fluffy guarding it? Was it about Sirius and any potential custody questions? Or had someone
let slip the identity of the man who discovered Ravenclaw’s diadem a little early to
Dumbledore and he wanted to discuss Voldemort’s supposed return?

Or all of the above?

The more Harry thought about it as they neared Dumbledore’s office, the more he realized
Dumbledore must be having his worst week in a long time. It made Harry smile.
 Chapter 33
Chapter Summary

Harry has a cheeky little chat with Dumbledore, plants some much-needed seeds in his
friends' heads, makes his soulmate despair about his culinary choices and finally, finally,
gets to see a certain headline in the paper.

Chapter Notes

Yes, here it is, the chapter, and the cliffhanger, you've all been waiting for. The start of
this chapter kicked my butt for a while, until I decided to write something else entirely,
which oddly enough got my creative juices for this story flowing again. It's weird how
that works, sometimes.

Anyway, be sure to check out my new Harry/Tom story, To Live Is The Rarest Thing as
well, after indulging in this chapter of course.

Also, I'm on Tumblr: maeglinyedi. I keep forgetting to mention that. Come find me there
and see updates and random fandom musings.

Thanks so much for your continued support. You all bring me so much joy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 33

As Harry followed Dumbledore through the castle the smile slowly slipped off his face the
closer they got to Dumbledore’s office. Harry was well-aware that magically he stood no
chance against Dumbledore, no matter he was an eighteen-year-old in a child’s body. In fact,
no one save Tom stood a chance against Dumbledore when it came to a one-on-one duel,
Harry was sure. Which meant that should Dumbledore want to magically control his
sacrificial lamb, there was very little Harry could do about it to stop him.

It took everything Harry had to not reach for the charmed necklace Tom had given him weeks
ago when Harry had started receiving his mail. The last thing he wanted was to draw
Dumbledore’s attention to the fact he owned and wore a piece of jewellery full of protection
charms. The necklace wouldn’t hold off someone like Dumbledore forever, but it would buy
Harry some precious seconds should Dumbledore turn his wand on him. Enough time to call
for Kreacher to help him. Harry was also sure if he called Dobby he would come and he
could go and fetch Tom if need be.
Not that Harry expected Dumbledore to outright attack him, but there were so many subtle
and not-so-subtle mind altering spells, everything from compulsion charms all the way up to
the imperius curse that Dumbledore might be tempted to magically fix Harry should he not
live up to the old man’s expectations.

Having some kind of plan in case the meeting went horribly wrong calmed Harry’s pounding
heart at least a little bit, which was a good thing because the gargoyle was just ahead of them.
Harry hadn’t been lying when he told Tom he was afraid of Dumbledore. The old man had
orchestrated Harry’s entire life up to his untimely death even from beyond the grave. Harry
would be a fool if he wasn’t afraid of a man with that kind of power who was determined to
see Harry dead at some point in the future.

“After you,” Dumbledore said with a gesture towards the moving stairs after the gargoyle slid
aside.

“Thanks,” Harry said politely and kept his expression as close to mildly confused as he could
while he purposefully kept his breaths deep and slow as not to give away his nervousness.
They rode the stairs in silence and Harry entered the office only the pause in the middle of it,
waiting for Dumbledore to start their meeting.

“Take a seat, my boy,” Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand at one of the chairs opposite
his desk as he slid into his own chair behind it. “Lemon drop?” Dumbledore held out his
candy dish but Harry barely noticed it because he’d just spotted Fawkes sitting on his perch,
staring at him with intense, black eyes. Harry stared back as he slowly sat down in his chair
opposite the desk. Harry realized Fawkes hadn’t been present in the office the first time Harry
had been in there since he’d gotten his second chance. He briefly wondered if Fawkes would
notice he really wasn’t an eleven-year-old boy.

“Ah, that is Fawkes,” Dumbledore said with a jovial chuckle. “He’s a phoenix. Extraordinary
creatures, phoenixes are. Their tears have healing powers, they can carry heavy burdens and
they’re excellent judges of character.”

“Wow,” Harry said, and he didn’t even have to fake his admiration for the magical bird. He’d
always liked Fawkes, especially since Fawkes had saved his life in the Chamber of Secrets
and had always been helpful. Then again, Fawkes voluntarily spent his time with
Dumbledore so that made Harry wonder how intelligent Phoenixes actually were. Perhaps
Fawkes knew perfectly well what kind of manipulative asshole Dumbledore really was and
he simply didn’t care. “It’s nice to meet you, Fawkes,” Harry said with a shy little smile.
Fawkes tilted his head for a few seconds, gazing at him in silence before letting out a musical
thrill that seemed to resemble a friendly greeting. Harry did his very best not to release a
relieved sigh.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Dumbledore said while sitting straight in his
chair, lacing his wrinkled fingers together on top of his desk. “Professor McGonagall told me
you went to visit Sirius Black in St Mungo’s.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, beaming at the headmaster. “He’s my godfather and he’d been in
prison without a trial for years and years before people finally realized he was innocent. It
was nice to meet him.”
“Very good, very good,” Dumbledore mumbled while giving Harry a solemn look. “I
understand you’ll want to live with Sirius, my boy, but –“

“What?” Harry yelled, shrinking back in his chair. Somewhere in the back of his mind he
could practically hear Tom saying not to antagonize the headmaster or treat their interactions
like some kind of joke, but Harry couldn’t help himself. He’d figured out the perfect way to
deal with Dumbledore’s insistence on meddling with Harry’s custody options. “Why are you
trying to make me live with Mr Black? My aunt Petunia always told me that grown men that
try to take little boys away from their homes can’t be trusted and that they’ll want to hurt
those boys and do very bad sex things with them. I’d like to go now.” And while giving
Dumbledore a deeply suspicious look, Harry got up from his chair and walked towards the
door, back straight and legs stiff, as if he expected to be attacked any second now.

Dumbledore looked absolutely flabbergasted, which was an expression Harry had never seen
before on the headmaster. It was hilarious, but at that moment Harry couldn’t express any
hilarity. “Mr Potter, wait,” Dumbledore said, sounding more than a little flustered. Harry
paused and narrowed his eyes at him. “I assure you, I’m not trying to lure you away from
your family. In fact, I’m thrilled you want to stay with them.”

“Promise?” Harry asked, still offering the headmaster nothing but suspicion and wariness.

“I promise, my boy.” Dumbledore seemed relieved when Harry turned around and shuffled
back to his chair. “There is one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Sure, Headmaster,” Harry said, keeping his posture just a little bit stiff and anxious, as if
Dumbledore really had broken any trust Harry might have had in him. Privately, Harry was in
stitches and couldn’t wait to tell Tom he’d basically called Dumbledore a paedophile to his
face and gotten away with it.

“I heard you’ve started a student club,” Dumbledore said, visibly pulling himself back
together to broach this new subject. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr Potter, but official
student clubs must be approved in specific ways.”

“Oh, I know, Sir,” Harry said, allowing a little enthusiasm back into his voice and posture. “I
got three autographs from three Heads of Houses, just like you’re supposed to.”

Dumbledore’s bushy eyebrows rose while his eyes widened as he peered at Harry through his
spectacles. “And where did you get this information?”

Harry offered Dumbledore his brightest smile. “I asked a teacher, of course. They’re here to
teach, after all.”

This seemed to surprise Dumbledore. “Who did you approach about this?”

“Professor Binns,” Harry said, and kept his smile in place while he relished Dumbledore’s
brief look of shock. “He’s the history professor, so I figured if anyone knows about how to
start student clubs, it’s him.” Harry had decided on this strategy some days before, after
giving all his options much thought. Binns was the perfect choice to be the scapegoat. He was
old enough to have seen Hogwarts’ rulebook first-hand and know the rules and regulations,
yet he was distracted enough that if Dumbledore asked him about his talk with Harry which
obviously never took place, Binns would probably confirm it anyway or ignore the question
entirely until Dumbledore went away. Binns never remembered student names, after all, even
ones as famous as Harry’s.

“Ah.” Dumbledore seemed a little embarrassed he hadn’t realized he had staff that still knew
the rules and would freely share it with their students when asked. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not
sure this club is a good idea.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, making sure he looked visibly upset by that suggestion, lips pursed
and eyebrows bunched.

“You and your friends are first-years and you already have lots on your plates,” Dumbledore
said in a tone that suggested he was ever so sorry for their circumstances but still insisted
they should do what he wanted. Harry was becoming quite familiar with that particular tone
of voice. “Perhaps it would be a better idea to postpone this club at least for a few years until
you’re older.”

Harry sighed in disappointment. “My friends and I always make sure we finish all our
homework before the weekend, Sir. I know my friends are going to be ever so sorry if we
can’t have our club because we were all enjoying it so much and we were going to get our
families to send us foods and decorations for Christmas. Neville’s gran was so proud of him
for being the club’s vice-president, and Susan’s aunt wrote her saying she thought it was an
important club to have for first-years.” Harry offered Dumbledore a questioning look. “I
wonder what they’ll say when they hear you’re not allowing us our student club even after
we did everything right and the club’s proving to be a huge success.”

It was a subtle reminder to Dumbledore that he was already in trouble with the Board of
Governors and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, for both the Fluffy debacle and his
possible involvement in the illegal imprisonment of Sirius Black, and that they very well
might want to question him officially should he go ahead and forbid a perfectly legitimate
student club for ridiculous reasons. Harry wasn’t sure if it would be enough of a threat to get
Dumbledore to back off, but it was the only option he had. If Dumbledore insisted on
cancelling Harry’s club, Harry would take it to the Board of Governors, and if that wasn’t
enough, he’d involve the press.

“I see,” Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence while he gave Harry a
contemplative look. Harry smiled politely back. “I suppose we can see how you and your
friends keep up with your schoolwork while also running and attending this club. Perhaps
until after the Christmas holidays? We can then re-evaluate how you and your friends are
holding up.”

Translation: Dumbledore knew well and good he was on thin ice with the Board and Amelia
and hoped that by the time the new year came around people would have forgotten about his
little Fluffy faux-pas and he could forbid Harry’s new club in peace.

Harry jumped up from his chair. “Thank you, Headmaster. I’ll tell all my friends you’ve
given us official permission for our Culture Club! Thanks for the talk. Goodbye!” And
without giving Dumbledore a chance to respond other than some incoherent sputtering, Harry
ran out of the office and all the way back to the dungeons.

Harry found Blaise and Theo sitting on Blaise’s bed, Quidditch magazines spread out
between them, Blaise’ little wireless announcing summaries of all the Quidditch matches that
had been played over the weekend.

“How did it go?” Theo asked, moving to the right to make room for Harry.

“So how crazy was he?” Blaise offered Harry an expectant look while Harry sat down with
his friends.

“He’s surprisingly sane, at least on the surface,” Harry said honestly. Sirius had been very
lucid and put-together, especially when compared to his demeanour when he’d escaped
Azkaban in Harry’s third year. Perhaps being let out two years early did make a huge
difference. Or perhaps receiving immediate medical care is what caused this improvement.
Or perhaps both. “He was nice enough, happy to see me.”

“That’s good,” Theo said, seemingly genuinely interested in Harry’s situation. Blaise was
paging through a magazine, apparently paying little attention, but Harry suspected this had a
lot to do with Blaise’s very skewed experiences with adult male authority figures in his life,
far more than genuinely not caring about Harry’s situation.

“Yeah, I’m happy I got to meet him. We’ve agreed to write letters, and I’ll visit him around
Yule for a few days,” Harry said and released a deep sigh. He genuinely was relieved this first
part of his reintroduction with his godfather had gone relatively smoothly. “Oh, and I got to
meet Draco’s auntie.”

Theo looked at Harry with a deep, slightly worried frown. “Isn’t she in Azkaban?”

“Auntie Bella is in Azkaban, yes, thank fuck for small favours,” Harry said, grinning. “But
Auntie Andromeda was visiting with her cousin while I was there. She’s very nice, nothing
like Draco’s side of the family.”

“Wasn’t she disinherited when she married a mud –“ Blaise snapped his mouth shut when
Harry whipped his head around and gave Blaise his filthiest glare.

“Yes,” Harry said slowly, keeping Blaise locked in place with just his gaze. “She married Ted
Tonks, a muggleborn and together they have a daughter, Nymphadora Tonks, who just started
her Auror training. She’s really nice. A lot of fun. And a metamorphmagus to boot.”

“Really?” Theo sat up a little while even Blaise seemed at least somewhat impressed. “I’d
heard rumours but I wasn’t sure if it was true.”

“Completely true. She can shapeshift like it’s going out of style. Really amazing and dead
useful in her line of work,” Harry said, happy enough to share what he knew about Tonks’
abilities. He’d always liked her and he’d always admired that particular talent of hers.
“Strange it should be her to have that ability,” Blaise muttered, to no one in particular. “It’s
always been a trait of the Black family, or at least it used to be. I don’t think anyone in the
Black family has been born with it for at least a century.”

“Except that someone has,” Harry said pointedly. He couldn’t express how happy he was
Blaise had brought this up. It was something he and Hermione had debated at length during
their year spent living in a tent in the middle of nowhere. “Tonks is a member of the Black
family, but instead of being the product of generations of inbreeding, she is the product of
some fresh magical blood being added to her line.”

“Huh,” Theo said, staring at his knees with a very contemplative look. Harry wanted jump up
and do a little victory dance but he controlled himself. He was aware it would take more that
just this to break his friends’ pureblood brainwashing, but Harry knew that little seeds of
doubt like the ones he was planting now would one day grow and help his friends learn to
think for themselves and learn to view the world rationally.

“Yes, yes,” Blaise said with a dismissive little wave. “You’re about to tell us that mixing in
mud- …muggleborns into old, pure families is somehow better for future generations or some
such rot.”

“Because it is,” Harry said, leaning forward and holding up a hand. He began ticking off his
fingers one by one. “Who do we know who are magically much more powerful than average?
Me? Half-blood. Snape? Half-blood. McGonagall? Half-blood. Dumbledore? Half-blood.”
Harry paused for a moment before he delivered his biggest truth bomb. “The Dark Lord?
Half-blood.”

“No, he’s not,” Blaise said at once, looking to Theo to agree with him.

But Theo had a knowing look on his face and offered Harry a small smile. “My father went to
school with the Dark Lord and he’s always been candid with me about who the Dark Lord
was, though warning me to keep that knowledge to myself.” He shook his head as he looked
from Harry to Blaise. “But since Harry’s let the niffler out of the bag already, yes, Blaise, I
can confirm that the Dark Lord is in fact a half-blood. His father was a muggle, his mother a
Gaunt. Direct descendants from Salazar Slytherin himself.”

“And inbred to the point of insanity,” Harry felt compelled to add. “Seriously, the Dark Lord
should be bloody grateful his father was a muggle, otherwise he’d likely have been born a
squib. His poor mother had barely more magic than your average squib to begin with.”

Blaise looked between Harry and Theo and back, his nostrils flaring, lips pinched. “How do
you know all this? I get that Theo’s father shared information with him, but where are you
getting yours, Harry?”

Harry swallowed, having not prepared an answer for this. How to explain his knowledge in a
realistic way without saying too much. Blaise was far too smart, even young as he was, to
accept an answer that didn’t make any sense. Then again, Harry could just tell his friends the
truth they were going to tell the world anyway. Sometimes this week Tom and Barty were
going to announce their existence on the front page of the newspaper, after all. That was, if
the Daily Prophet got off their arses and ran the article already.
Pulling his wand free, Harry gave both Blaise and Theo a significant look. He closed the
bedcurtains around them with a flick of his wand and added a bunch of privacy spells.

“What I’m about to tell you stays between us, at least for the time being, all right?” Harry
said, placing his wand in his lap and clasping his hands on top of it.

Theo and Blaise nodded quietly, apparently sufficiently impressed by Harry’s quick and silent
spell-work they didn’t feel like questioning his demands.

“During the summer I made a friend in the Quidditch store in Diagon Alley. An adult, late
twenties I think, who taught me how to fly. His name is Bartholomew Crouch.”

“Related to…” Blaise said while he arched an eyebrow.

“Yep, second cousin to Barty Crouch Sr, that department head who died this summer.
Anyway, through this new Barty I met a fellow named Thomas Gaunt, also somewhere in his
twenties. We became friends as well and have been keeping in touch,” Harry said matter-of-
factly. “He’s the one who’s told me all these things.”

“Gaunt,” Theo said while giving Harry a wide-eyed look. “How closely related do you think
he is?”

“Very closely,” Harry said with a mysterious little smile. He wasn’t about to confirm or deny
anything else just yet. Let Theo and Blaise wonder about Tom’s identity for a while, before
anything was made official and public.

“Anyway, I’ve got a letter to write to my godfather and then I’m turning in for the night. It’s
been a long day,” Harry said while cancelling the spells around Blaise’s bed. He hopped off
the bed, leaving his friends staring after him with their mouths hanging open.

Harry got washed and changed into his pyjamas, and penned a quick letter to his godfather
while seated on his own bed protected by a dozen privacy charms. He’d send it off first thing
in the morning, but he wanted to assure his godfather that he’d stay in touch and he wanted to
drive some of the seeds of doubt he’d planted earlier in deeper. He mentioned his talk with
Dumbledore, how strange he thought the man acted and how he really had no business
interfering with their lives since he was just the headmaster of a school.

After finishing his letter and stuffing it in his schoolbag, Harry lay down under his covers and
got out his mirror.

“Soulmate!” Harry chirped the moment Tom answered. “You’ll never guess what I said to
Dumbledore this evening.”

Tom’s sigh was filled with the kind of exasperation and reluctant amusement he usually
displayed when Harry mentioned anything to do with Dumbledore and their interactions.
“And good evening to you, too, my dear. I’m sure you’ll tell me. In great detail.”

“Yes!” Harry said and did just that, leaving out no detail of his chat with the old man. “So I
basically called him a paedophile to his face and all Dumbledore did was look very, very
flustered.”

Tom chuckled while shaking his head. “This is a memory you’ll have to share over the
holidays when we can make use of Dorus’ pensieve.”

“Consider it done,” Harry said, still snickering while remembering the look on Dumbledore’s
face. “And I got him to back down about our Culture Club while blaming Binns for getting
the word out about how to create student clubs.”

“That was very clever and inspired, to use Binns as the scapegoat,” Tom admitted with a
rather proud look.

“Why, thank you,” Harry replied with what he hoped was a small little bow. It was difficult to
do while lying in bed, propped up on a pillow.

“How was Black doing?” Tom asked once they finally got over their amusement concerning
Dumbledore.

“Better than I expected. He still needs time to recover, but he was in much better shape
physically and mentally than in my third year in our previous lives,” Harry said while Tom
nodded along. “I guess spending two years less in Azkaban and getting medical treatment did
him good. I also met the Tonks’ and Lupin, briefly. And I treated Hagrid to dinner at
McDonalds.”

Tom’s sigh was one of slight disbelief this time. “You took an eight-and-a-half foot half-giant
to eat at McDonalds, which I am to understand is as close to actual garbage as muggles have
managed to make food.”

Harry laughed, loudly, while clutching his belly, at seeing Tom’s expression of complete
incongruity. “It’s not that bad, really. I’m sure there’s better restaurants out there, but Dudley
always wanted McDonalds and I never got any. So now I’m finally able to eat it whenever I
want.”

Tom glanced down while nodding in understanding. It was nice to talk to someone who
understood such random urges stemming from a neglectful childhood. “And did you finalize
any custody agreements with your godfather?”

“Sort of,” Harry said with a small shrug. “Sirius wanted to me move in right away, but
thankfully Andromeda Tonks was there to be the voice of reason. We’ve agreed I’m visiting a
few days around Yule and any other decisions will be postponed to at least the summer
holidays.”

“That’s good,” Tom said with a warm, pleased smile. “Though I would prefer it if you spent
Yule itself with us.”

Warmth flooded Harry’s chest and belly at the idea of Tom wanting him to spend the actual
holidays with them. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just tell Sirius I’ll be spending those days with my
family and I’ll visit him right after. That should be all right.” And it was kind of the truth,
too, as Harry considered it those days. Tom and Barty really were the closest thing he had to
a family right then, but Harry felt far too embarrassed about such emotions to mention any of
that to Tom.

“Good, it’s settled then,” Tom said with no small amount of finality, and somehow the warm
feeling in Harry’s chest got warmer still. They spent another thirty minutes or so chatting
about Harry’s visit to Sirius and about what Barty had been up to and some things Tom was
working on and then they finally called it a night.

The next morning Harry sat down in the great hall with anticipation buzzing around his belly,
but alas, the Daily Prophet wanted to milk the current scandal for a little while longer before
hanging Lockhart out to dry.

WHO SHOULD PAY FOR THIS SIRIUS MISTAKE?

By Rita Skeeter

Harry ate his oatmeal porridge and toast with strawberry jam while perusing the article.
Skeeter left no one blameless, naming the previous Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, as
a main perpetrator of injustice, along with the late Bartemius Crouch Sr and the current Chief
Warlock Albus Dumbledore. Fudge, surprisingly, was hailed a hero for finally getting Sirius a
trial, even though Harry knew that was all Amelia Bones’ doing. Well, he couldn’t expect
Skeeter to report the whole truth, now could he? She had gotten it right about who to blame
for Sirius’ illegal imprisonment, surprisingly.

“The Weasley twins are awake,” Draco announced as he all but threw himself onto the bench
opposite Harry. Vince and Greg sat down on either side of him, starting on breakfast at once
while Draco took his time to serve himself some substandard tea while making sure he had
the attention of everyone around him.

“They woke up late last night and immediately got into bed together and they’ve been
clinging to each other ever since,” Draco said, his smile morphing into a smirk. “I bet they
got brain damage from that curse and now think they’re babies.”

Harry stared at Draco while several thoughts spun through his head. First, how was Draco
getting all that kind of information? Had Draco always been this big of a gossip and had
Harry simply not noticed in his previous life? And how close of a relationship with Filch did
Draco have, since Harry suspected it was the caretaker that fed Draco all the local Hogwarts
news somehow?

And then Harry remembered what Draco himself had said about Harry and his temporary
brain damage and he felt like giving Draco another set of donkey ears, but he restrained
himself. The middle of the great hall during breakfast was not the place to hex your fellow
students.

“Yes, thank you, Draco,” Blaise drawled beside Harry while not even bothering to look up
from his bowl of porridge. “How utterly fascinating.”

Harry said nothing but finished his breakfast while Draco retold the story to anyone who
would listen again and again. Checking his watch, Harry realized he had half an hour until
Herbology started. “I’ll see you in class,” he said to Theo and Blaise, and without offering
any further explanation, Harry grabbed his bag and took off to the hospital wing.

While he walked through the castle at a clipped pace, Harry wasn’t even sure why he was
going to see the twins, just that he felt like he should make it clear to them that they shouldn’t
attempt to do something as utterly idiotic again, especially aimed at Harry himself. Harry
would much rather spent some time lecturing the twins, than having to try to hold Tom and
his curses back should the twins accidentally hurt him again. They might even be thinking
about getting revenge for the nightmare curse or something.

Harry pushed the door to the infirmary open without making a sound. He quickly checked for
Pomfrey but didn’t see her about. Then he slipped inside and rushed towards the bed holding
the twins.

Draco hadn’t been lying about them clinging to each other and at once Harry knew what kind
of nightmares they’d lived through over and over again during the last two to three weeks.

Harry well remembered the unearthly sounds of George’s desperate sobs as he hung in his
father’s arms like a limp ragdoll during Fred’s funeral. All Harry could think of back then
was that George sincerely looked like he wanted to be just as dead as Fred was. Harry didn’t
think he’d ever seen a person look like that before.

Now the twins had similar expressions. Utter desperation and loss was written all over their
pale, wan faces.

“I’m not going to draw this out,” Harry said as he stopped at the foot of the bed containing
the twins holding onto each other for dear life. “You killed me. Simple as that. If it wasn’t for
magic and a few very talented witches and wizards, I would have stayed dead.”

“We didn’t mean to do that,” George whispered, his voice hoarse.

“And yet that is still what happened,” Harry said reasonably. “Actions have consequences.
You decided to violently attack an eleven year old during a game. That eleven year old got
his skull cracked open. And you got to spend two weeks living your worst nightmares.”
Harry offered the twins a sharp little smile. “No, I didn’t cast that curse or had anyone cast it
for me. But there are plenty of people out there willing to extract vengeance on my behalf,
apparently.”

“We’ll leave you alone,” Fred whispered, voice just as rasping as his twins’.

“Excellent,” Harry said, beaming at the twins. “That is all I wanted to know. I wish you a
speedy recovery.” And with that, Harry turned on his heels and marched out the door. He
made it to greenhouse one just in time.

The rest of the day Harry attended classes like usual and later in the library he answered his
friends’ questions about his visit with the infamous Sirius Black and yes, Hannah, he really is
innocent, and no, Hannah, he’s really not going to murder anyone in their sleep.
 The next morning, Harry sat down at breakfast with a sort of anxious desperation brewing in
his gut. Was the Daily Prophet finally going to run the story on Lockhart and Tom?
Dumbledore was seated at the head table, so if the Prophet finally delivered, Harry got to see
his expression and eventually share it with Tom.

An unassuming tawny owl dropped the paper in Harry’s lap and Harry unrolled it with
trembling fingers.

GILDEROY LOCKHART ARRESTED FOR FRAUD

By Rita Skeeter.

Below that headline and the main article, about halfway down the front page, was another
headline with picture.

CROUCH AND GAUNT FIND PRICELESS RAVENCLAW’S DIADEM

A brightly smiling Tom and Barty waved at Harry from the picture and Harry was tempted to
wave back but controlled himself. Around him students were exclaiming in shock about yet
another scandal being publicized.

“Is that the bloke you mentioned the other day?” Theo whispered in Harry’s ear while he read
the paper over his shoulder.

But Harry ignored him for now, and raised his head up to look at Dumbledore.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to look me up on Tumblr: maeglinyedi

 Chapter 34
Chapter Summary

Harry gets to enjoy Dumbledore's response, can't stop worrying about Tom, gets to
educate his fellow students and receives a highly unusual request from his soulmate.

Chapter Notes

Yes, an update! And not even that long after the last one. I saw someone mention
fictional crop rotation and that explains perfectly what I'm doing right now. I've got a
few stories going at the same time, so that when I'm stuck in one story and I can't
immediately continue it, I can simply move on to a different story and write that for a
while until I get stuck there and by that point I'll have moved past whatever was holding
me back for the first story. So far, so good. I've written a lot these past few weeks and
without even noticing I suddenly had inspiration and energy again to write the next
chapter for this one. The chapter after this one is also rearing at the bit to get written, I'm
happy to say.

Thanks so much for reading and for all your comments. They are so very helpful to keep
me writing.

Chapter 34

Dumbledore picked up a bright red mug just as he shook open the Prophet in front of him,
and Harry had the pleasure, nay, the privilege to see the revered Headmaster of Hogwarts
dump an entire cup of coffee down his beard.

Seriously, it looked like Dumbledore had a sudden case of diarrhoea of the mouth which
stained most of his silver-white beard a dull brown.

Desperately trying to hold back his cackles, Harry quickly held up his own newspaper high
enough to bury his face behind it while his shoulders shook and the paper rustled in his
hands.

“Did Dumbledore just spill coffee all over himself?” Blaise asked in disbelieving delight
while Harry was holding his breath in an attempt not to burst out into peals of laughter.

“What?” Draco demanded, turning in his seat to look at the head table. “Look at him! He
can’t even do breakfast right. No wonder this place has such low standards.”
All around them students took notice of their headmaster’s embarrassing little accident, and
just as Harry peeked over the top of his newspaper, still holding his breath for all he was
worth, Dumbledore all but jumped up and hurried out of the hall through the side door behind
the head table. Unable to hold back his laughter any longer, Harry let go and bent over,
cackling madly with sheer gratification at seeing Dumbledore’s stunned reaction at realizing
Voldemort had returned in a brand new body.

Well, not really Voldemort, since Tom these days was an entirely different person, but
Dumbledore didn’t know that, of course.

Thankfully, lots of students were laughing around them so Harry’s ridiculous reaction didn’t
stand out too much. He just seemed like an immature child taking pleasure at seeing a grown-
up spilling something all over himself, but he certainly wasn’t the only student with a
reaction like that.

Their first class was Herbology and as usual they teamed up with Ernie and Justin to prune
some buzzing primroses. Their flowers let off a soft noise in the wind, hence the name, but
since it was late November, the primroses weren’t in bloom and just needed pruning to see
them through the oncoming winter.

Theo sidled closer to Harry as they worked, while Ernie and Justin loudly discussed the
discovery of Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Neither seemed very heartbroken about Lockhart’s fate,
but from what Harry understood Justin had no clue who he was and Ernie had always thought
Lockhart a bit of a fop, though Ernie’s mother was a huge fan and would surely be
disappointed. At the table next to theirs Millicent and Daphne, together with Zacharias Smith
of all people, were having a heated discussion about the evil Daily Prophet for slandering
their beloved hero, while Tracey and Wayne Hopkins shared many a knowing look in
between ducking their heads to hide their smirks.

That seemed to be the reaction at all tables. A portion of students were sad or angry about
Lockhart’s arrest while the rest seemed quietly amused at his fate but were too polite or too
insecure to say such things out loud.

“That Gaunt fellow,” Theo whispered in Harry’s ear while everyone else was distracted.
“He’s the one you mentioned meeting and you said he was very closely related.”

Harry said nothing but continued snipping dead leaves off the primrose in front of him.

“Considering his fairly young age,” Theo continued, glancing around to make sure no one
was overhearing them. “I’m going to guess he’s the son of You Know Who.”

Harry nodded his head once quickly and looked Theo in the eye. “This is not public
knowledge, yet, so keep it to yourself. It will probably come out sooner rather than later, but
it’s not up to us to share.”

“I get it,” Theo mumbled. “But you spent time with him…and he never tried to hurt you?”

Blinking, Harry turned to stare at Theo, finally understanding why Theo kept hammering on
about Tom. Theo was genuinely worried Voldemort’s son might try to hurt or kill Harry.
“Tom is nothing like his father, I promise.” Which was the absolute truth.

“Good,” Theo sighed and he sounded very relieved indeed. Without any further questions,
Theo went back to his own primroses and Harry joined the conversation the rest were having
about who Ravenclaw’s Diadem belonged to.

“It belongs to Hogwarts,” Ernie insisted.

Harry disagreed. “It never belonged to Hogwarts in the first place, but it was Rowena
Ravenclaw’s personal property until her daughter Helena stole it and ran away to Albania.”

“How do you know this?” Blaise asked with a curious tilt of his head. Harry got the distinct
impression that of late Blaise had wizened up to Harry being very well informed on all
manner of subjects. Perhaps a little too well informed. He needed to watch himself better
when it came to the things he shared with his friends.

“The Grey Lady, Ravenclaw’s ghost is Helena Ravenclaw,” Harry said while looking Blaise
right in the eye, his face giving nothing away. “And our ghost, the Bloody Baron is the bloke
Rowena sent to get Helena and her diadem back, but the baron accidentally killed Helena and
then in remorse killed himself, meaning the diadem was lost in Albania for centuries.” Harry
shrugged and smiled at the others. “Neither are the most talkative ghosts, but they do answer
questions occasionally.”

“Wow.” Justin looked as though he just realized he might actually be living in an Indiana
Jones movie filled with adventures and faraway locations.

After Herbology they had charms, where Neville sat with them again but since Flitwick spent
most of the hour lecturing they didn’t have much time to talk. But since it was Wednesday
they had the afternoon off and after a quick lunch everyone met at their usual table in the
library, eager to talk over all the happenings of the past few days.

“Harry, can you believe any of what the Prophet has been writing about poor Gilderoy
Lockhart,” Daphne asked, her expression filled with sorrow as she sat down across from
Harry.

“Yes, I can,” Harry said with a neutral expression, not wanting to upset his friend any further
than she obviously already was. “Sorry, Daphne, I understand you’re a fan, but I’ve read a
few of his books and they don’t add up.”

“Thank you!” Tracey said while throwing a hand in the air and giving Daphne a very
significant look. “See? I’m not the only one who noticed things weren’t right.”

Hannah’s bottom lip trembled. “But why would he lie to everyone like that? How could he do
that?”

“Because all he wanted was fame and fortune,” Neville said quietly and quickly snapped his
mouth shut when everyone looked at him at once.
“You’re right,” Harry said to show him some support. “I believe Lockhart wanted fame and
fortune without actually having to work for it. And that was more important to him than how
his fans would feel when the truth finally came out.”

“That is so wrong,” Hannah whispered and wiped a tear away that rolled down her cheek.
Susan placed a comforting arm around her friend. They talked about Lockhart for a few
moments longer until finally the subject shifted to the two unknown gentlemen who had
discovered a lost treasure.

Daphne had the Daily Prophet spread out in front of her and was examining the picture
carefully. “He’s very handsome. Well, they both are, but this one,” and she tapped a finger
against Tom’s picture, “especially.”

“Let me see,” Tracey said, leaning over just as everyone else did the same, all staring at
Tom’s picture. Harry, in the meantime, choked on his own saliva and coughed violently while
wondering if children were supposed to notice these things about grown-ups, or had he just
been completely oblivious in his first life, which was entirely possible.

“You disagree?” Daphne demanded while she narrowed her eyes.

“Er…” And Harry, who had literally lost the ability to form coherent words when first
confronted with Tom’s naked wetness, shrugged his shoulders and pretended to read his
charms textbook with great care. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Harry’s a boy,” Hannah said, as though that explained everything.

“I notice he’s handsome,” Justin said a little defensively.

“Well, you’re maybe less of a boy,” Hannah said wisely.

“What?” Justin looked between everyone else in great confusion, as though not entirely sure
if he should be insulted or not.

“So, about that charms essay,” Theo said loudly. Blaise was watching everyone else with
great amusement, but Neville jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“Yes, the essay. What books do you think we should read to find out more about unlocking
charms?” Neville asked, already getting up from his seat. Theo did the same and together
they all but fled into the stacks. Harry envied them but at the same time he desperately
wanted to hear what else his friends had to say about Tom, though he wasn’t sure why.

No more earth-shattering comments were made, however, and they all finished their
homework and went to dinner where they enjoyed shepherd’s pie with chocolate pudding for
dessert.

“How are you?” Harry asked eagerly once Tom answered his mirror later that night. Harry
wasn’t dressed in his pyjamas yet, since they still had astronomy at midnight, but he was
ensconced in his bed with the curtains closed for a little nap, or so he told his friends.
“I’m fine,” Tom assured him quickly. He did look good, well-rested. “Happy the news is out
there now and we can begin the next phase of our plan.”

“Yeah, I bet. Dumbledore spilled an entire mug of coffee over his beard when he opened the
paper,” Harry said, grinning like a loon. “It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I look forward to seeing that memory.” Tom’s eyes were shining as he gave Harry a soft
smile.

“What do you think Dumbledore is going to do now?” Harry asked. All throughout the day
he’d experienced a low level of anxiety at the idea of Dumbledore going to hunt Tom down
or something silly like that. He knew Tom was more than capable of duelling Dumbledore
and coming out of it in one piece, but Harry still worried.

“Hm.” Tom leaned back while briefly glancing up, obviously giving that question some
thought. “Knowing Dumbledore, he’ll call his Order and then he’ll go about convincing
everyone he can I’m actually Voldemort.”

“That’s not good,” Harry whispered, the low level of anxiety in his belly increasing
dramatically.

Tom gave Harry a very knowing look. “We have plans for that, my dear. Stop worrying so
much.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry muttered, glancing down at his lap, feeling oddly embarrassed at
being called out like that. “During dinner I was thinking about this and I realized Dumbledore
might get the ministry to raid your house. He did that with Death Eaters in the past, right? So
maybe you should put the Gaunt shack under a Fidelius charm so you can store all your
illegal stuff there and you’ll have a safe house Dumbledore can’t get to.” Harry gave Tom a
pleading look to just go along with that so he’d be safe and Harry could sleep better.

“Excellent plan,” Tom said with a teasing grin. “Except the Gaunt shack is currently a trap
for Dumbledore with a fake Peverell ring cursed to hell and back waiting for him.”

“Oh, bugger.” Harry bit his lip. He’d completely forgotten about that.

“But rest assured, my dear, that I have a safe house that’s under a Fidelius and I store all my
illegal possessions there.” Tom’s smirk was quite smug as he winked at Harry. “I’ll take you
there during the holidays, so it can function as a safe house for you, too.”

Harry released a deep sigh in sheer relief. “Who else knows about it?”

“No one yet, but I’m considering letting Barty in on the secret. Having a secure safe house
would be a boon for him, too.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed easily. Barty was, in theory, still an escaped convict who should be
serving out a life sentence in Azkaban, even though the whole world believed him dead. You
never knew what amount of truth might come out in the future at the most inopportune time.
“Other than that,” Tom continued while looking like he thought Harry’s concern was both
incredibly endearing yet endlessly entertaining. “I’ve officially claimed Riddle Manor as my
legal property at the muggle government and I’ve registered it at the ministry as a wizarding
residence to connect me to the floo network. There’s nothing illegal in the house whatsoever,
so the ministry can raid it as much as they like. But if they do, I will sick the solicitor I keep
on retainer on them for performing a search without just cause.”

“Okay, so you’re prepared, I get it,” Harry said with a quiet chuckle, still feeling oddly
embarrassed by his concern for his soulmate.

“And should Dumbledore pull a Sirius Black on me and chuck me in Azkaban without a trial
or any other nonsense like that, then Dorus and Lucius will raise a stink and inform my
solicitor and get me out at once. Now you can really stop worrying, darling.”

“Fine.” Harry rubbed a hand across his face. “Ugh. I’m tired and I still have a class.”

“I never understood why they insist the lower years take astronomy in the middle of the night
instead of just teaching it during the day by using maps or projections and perhaps having a
few late night classes to learn how to work a telescope,” Tom said with a pinched look, as
though discussing something that had been bothering him for a long time.

“Yeah, be glad your Hogwarts days are over.” Harry inwardly shook himself to wake himself
up. Now that he had assurances and reassurances that Tom had plans on how to deal with
Dumbledore and his anxiety lessened significantly, he was suddenly exhausted.

“Yours could be, too, my dear.” Tom’s look was almost challenging. “Just say the word and
you can continue your life as the adult you actually are.”

“Tempting.” Harry did indeed find that offer tempting, every time Tom made it. But he loved
Hogwarts, and he especially loved experiencing Hogwarts without acting like Dumbledore’s
little marionette, so he truly wasn’t ready yet to call it quits. “But I’ll put up with ungodly
class hours for a while longer.”

“Very well,” Tom easily agreed. “Just know that no matter what Dumbledore throws at us,
we’re prepared to deal with it.”

And Harry kept that in mind the rest of the evening and the following day. That was a
Thursday and they had a full day of classes and every time Harry started worrying about his
soulmate again he reminded himself of what Tom had told him.

They were prepared. They would be fine. Stop worrying.

Of course, nothing out of the ordinary happened that day. The most exciting thing that
occurred was that right before dinner Harry received a package from Miss Elderflower
containing an advanced copy of her latest publication, titled ‘Harry Potter and the Centaur’s
Trial’. It was set during fictional Harry’s first year at Hogwarts, where he ended up making
friends with some centaurs, according to the synopsis on the back.
“Are you receiving books about yourself?” Draco asked with wide eyes, sounding like he’d
just discovered Harry’s deepest, darkest secret and realized he could now share that with the
whole school. “Do you enjoy reading fiction featuring a better version of yourself or
something?”

“Don’t be absurd, Draco,” Harry said in his best snooty tone while raising his chin up at him.
“I receive these to approve them, since they won’t be published without my consent. And I
like seeing them published, since that earns me lots of gold.” Smirking, Harry tucked the
package into his bag. “It’s just business, but I don’t expect someone like you to understand
that.”

“Someone like me?” Draco sputtered in quiet outrage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The fact that you don’t even understand that rather makes my point,” Harry bullshitted a
mile a minute. He had no clue why Draco would or wouldn’t understand that, he just enjoyed
riling the boy up.

And when later that night, Harry got out parchment and quill and wrote to Miss Elderflower,
suggesting that perhaps her next book, set in fictional Harry’s second year, could be about
Harry discovering Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets and befriending the basilisk living
inside of it, well, that was Harry’s own business and no one needed to know about it.

Friday arrived with lots of rain and wind, but that didn’t keep Marcus from putting them
through an hour of rigorous Quidditch training first thing in the morning. And even though
Harry wasn’t allowed to fly any school matches for the rest of the year he still enjoyed the
time he got to spend on his broomstick and physically work off some stress and anxiety.

After classes they met in the library to finish their homework before the weekend began, and
after dinner they attended the Slytherin house meeting which was short and to the point,
which left them with plenty of time to make their way to the Club House for their second
Culture Club meeting.

Most students had brought something to share concerning Christmas and Yule and they spent
their evening enjoying lots of delicious treats while listening to holiday songs and putting up
both muggle and wizarding decorations around the room. Meanwhile Harry slipped in a few
titbits of ritual knowledge he’d read in Regulus’ notes about how Yule used to be celebrated
before the ministry decided to ban those rituals and celebrations.

“Yule is traditionally celebrated for three nights around midwinter night,” Harry said as he
helped Padma and Millicent put up evergreen garlands around the windows. “They would
sacrifice livestock and use the blood they collected to sprinkle across evergreen branches
while chanting spells to ensure the Wild Hunt would pass them by and the draugar would not
find them while the night was longest. The meat from the livestock was later consumed
during a great feast together with lots of ale to welcome the fact that from then on the nights
would get shorter and shorter again and the Wild Hunt would not occur for another year.”

“What’s a wild hunt?” Megan asked.

“Muggles would call it a bad omen. A ghostly chase through the darkness that usually
preceded a plague or catastrophe,” Harry explained patiently. He had been fascinated when
reading all this stuff in Regulus’ books and he was truly happy to share it all with others.
“But we know for a fact that it is a hunt during the longest nights of the year led by various
psychopomps consisting of the souls of the dead with the fey urging them on, trying to derail
them and keep them from moving to the afterlife. Any souls the fey catch, they turn into
draugar. The living dead, bound to haunt this earth forever while being tormented by the fey.
That is why wizards and witches make such a big thing out of getting the Wild Hunt to pass
them by, since the fey are tricky creatures you don’t want to be seen by, even outside of a
Wild Hunt. Or perhaps especially outside a Wild Hunt.”

“Why not?” Justin asked from where he was showing a collection of Victorian Christmas
cards to Anthony, Seamus and Dean.

“Because the fey will trick you into doing something stupid,” Theo said with a quiet snort.
“Like give up your firstborn or your magic.”

“I read that fairies are just small magical creatures that are used as decorations,” Hermione
said in her customary argumentative tone.

“Fairies and doxies and pixies are all small, fairly harmless members of the fey,” Harry said
firmly. “But they are not the only members. The larger ones are very intelligent and not at all
fond of humans, muggle or magical. So yeah, it is in your own best interest to not draw their
attention, especially not during a Wild Hunt. Should you find yourself as part of one, you
likely won’t survive and your soul probably won’t make it to the afterlife.”

“I think I prefer the muggle version of this holiday,” Megan said with a small shudder.

“Whichever you prefer,” Harry pointed out with a kind smile while he looked around the
room. “It’s still important to know these things. The fey are real and they do harm humans,
and not knowing how to avoid them on nights when they are most powerful is just setting
yourself up for disaster.”

“But they banned this,” Seamus said in a rather questioning tone. “At least that’s what my
nan said. That they used to do these rituals but the ministry banned it.”

“I was told the same,” Susan agreed.

“I’m aware,” Harry said with a careless shrug. “But that makes you wonder why they banned
these kinds of rituals that are meant to protect us.”

“Because of her,” Daphne said, pointing a finger at Megan. “People like her. Muggle-raised.
You saw her reaction.”

“Let’s not accuse each other. None of us in this room has banned anything,” Harry pointed
out quickly while offering Megan a reassuring smile. “But I’ve heard as well that to appease
those not raised amongst rituals such as this one, they simply banned them instead of perhaps
educate those that needed to be taught.”
“That’s not fair,” Hermione said with a deep frown. “I’m muggle-raised but I’d be happy to
learn magical rituals such as this one if they offer real protection from magical threats.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Megan quietly agreed. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“And that’s why we have this club,” Harry happily reminded everyone. “To help each other
learn and understand. And it’s also ten minutes to curfew so it’s time to call it an evening.”

There was a chorus of disappointed complaints about curfew and stupid school rules but
everyone got up and gathered their belongings.

“Good lesson,” Theo whispered as he stood beside Harry while everyone left in small groups.

“Thanks. And no one freaked out or got upset at us for mentioning highly illegal rituals, so
I’ll count that as a win.” Harry winked at Theo, who smirked in return.

“All this talk about souls and dead people,” Blaise complained while he stuffed another
Christmas cookie Dean had brought along in his mouth. He chewed loudly. “Perhaps a more
cheerful subject next week, Harry.”

Shaking his head, Harry followed his friends out of the room and had just closed the door
when the mirror in his pocket grew warm. Tom never contacted him unless he really needed
to talk to him. Harry was always the one to initiate contact in the evening, since Tom spent
most evenings alone at home and it was Harry who needed to find privacy to call him.

“I’m going to find a bathroom real quick,” Harry told his friends, waving them on. “Don’t
wait or you’ll get caught out after curfew. I’ll see you later.” And without waiting for a reply,
Harry rushed towards the nearest loo, made sure he was alone while casting a few privacy
charms and took the mirror out of his pocket.

“Everything all right?” Harry demanded the second he saw Tom’s face. Something was
different. Not Tom himself, but the background was not Tom’s bedroom or office or drawing
room. It looked familiar, though.

“Harry, my dear, can you slip away right now? Meet me in the Shrieking Shack?” Tom asked
and now Harry recognized the room Tom was standing in. It was the main room of the
Shrieking Shack.

“Meet you? Now?” Harry asked stupidly, since his brain for some reason suddenly had
problems processing simple information.

Tom nodded and looked entirely amused by Harry’s response. “I have Dorus’ pensieve with
me and would like to show you this afternoon’s emergency Wizengamot session that
Dumbledore arranged so he could publicly accuse me of being Voldemort.”
 Chapter 35
Chapter Summary

Harry gets to meet his soulmate in the flesh again while they watch Dumbledore try to
convince the Wizengamot Voldemort is back and more, until Harry does something so
unexpected he isn't sure how to deal with it.

Chapter Notes

Yeah, I wasn't about to leave you all hanging for long, so here is the start of
Dumbledore's downfall and more. This chapter was a lot of fun to write, especially the
ending, which just popped into my head out of the blue, but was too good to pass up.

A few people have asked after Nagini and what happened to her, and let me assure you,
I haven't forgotten her. We will, sooner rather than later, learn what happened to her,
don't worry.

Thanks so much for reading, for your overwhelming support and for all your comments.
They make all the time I spend writing this story more than worth it!

Edited to add: people are asking to upload this story to other websites. Let me be clear:

DO NOT UPLOAD THIS STORY ELSEWHERE, EVER!

Do not put this story up on wattpad! I'm planning to post it there myself in the near
future.

How fucking difficult is it to understand to keep you greedy little fingers off other
people's hard work!

Chapter 35

Harry had never been so glad before that he had decided early on in the schoolyear to always
keep his invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map in his bag that he carried around pretty
much all day. He swung the cloak over his head after quickly checking the map to make sure
there wasn’t anyone watching the doors in the entrance hall, and then he ran as fast as he
could through the castle, down the stairs and out the door.
It rained buckets and he was soaked through in less than half a minute, but Harry hardly
noticed it as he dashed through puddles, water splattering everywhere, across the wide lawn
towards the whomping willow. He shot a spell at the knot to stop the willow from moving
and all but threw himself down the dark hole, only remembering to light up his wand at the
last second so he wouldn’t brain himself on the low ceiling while he scrambled towards the
shack. Getting a traumatic brain injury, again, wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest, least of
all his, but Harry was so elated he had trouble thinking rationally about anything right then.

Seeing Tom again…well, seeing him in the flesh, did things to Harry’s heart and lungs and
brain that went far beyond a simple physical attraction. And how weird was that? Harry saw
Tom almost every evening when they talked on their mirrors, but seeing him face to face,
being in the same room with him, was something else entirely.

With a loud bang Harry pushed open the trapdoor and launched himself through it, leaking
water every step he took. And then he looked up. And up. And up some more.

“Sweet Merlin, were you always this tall?” Harry asked in astonishment as he had to throw
practically his whole head back to look up at Tom. He now realized he’d barely seen Tom as
a whole person, standing upright, since his resurrection. He only ever saw the man’s face
through their mirrors.

Tom, for his part, had to look down, which he did with a teasing smile. “And I don’t really
recall you being such a soppy miniature human.” Before Harry could respond, Tom waved
his wand around and a warm wind dried Harry in seconds.

Shivering, since he only now noticed how cold he’d been, Harry gave Tom his best
unimpressed look. “Thanks. And I am only eleven. I will grow.”

“Certainly,” Tom agreed easily, tucking his wand away up his sleeve. “And this time you
might actually grow to a decent size now that you’ve taken some nutrient potions to correct
years of malnutrition.”

“A decent size?” Harry sputtered, while really only feeling mildly offended. “I made it to just
shy of 5 foot 10 in my first life. That’s not exactly small. And what are you? 6 foot 5?”

“I’m just about 6 foot 6,” Tom said with a nonchalant shrug. “And you might make it to 6
foot this time around, if you eat all your veggies.”

Harry sighed and then shook his head in mild amusement. It would be nice to grow a little
taller this life, certainly, but he wasn’t about to agree with Tom on principle. Harry shook out
his invisibility cloak, even though it was completely dry now thanks to his soulmate, and
folded it before sliding it in his bag. “So what happened? And did Dumbledore really bring
you before the Wizengamot?”

Tom’s small smile grew into a sly smirk at once and he gestured towards the rickety table on
which a grey, stone pensieve stood, with two simple, wooden chairs on either side of the
table. “Have a look for yourself.”

“Is this your memory?” Harry sat down on one chair, while Tom occupied the opposite one.
“Yes. I had expected Dumbledore to pull something like this, I just hadn’t quite expected it to
be this soon after your godfather’s trial, since that put Dumbledore in such a bad light. But
apparently Dumbledore was in such a state of shock over my return he’d forgotten that part
and just went full steam ahead without considering all the possible consequences.”

“Well, the man is a Gryffindor,” Harry said, knowing full well he himself had similar
qualities that often resulted in a severe lack of planning and an inability to foresee all
potential ramifications. And without any further comment, since Harry was far too impatient
to draw this out even more, he stuck his head into the silvery substance and after a dizzying
moment full of flashing colours found himself standing in the entrance hall of Riddle Manor
where memory Tom just opened the front door to be faced with a wall of Aurors.

The real Tom appeared beside Harry and gave him a quick smile before focussing on the
events unfolding in front of them.

“Can I help you?” memory Tom asked politely, though with a slightly alarmed expression on
his face at seeing such a huge number of Aurors on his doorstep.

“Arrest him,” Moody barked while barging inside. “Everyone else, search the whole house,
leave nothing untouched. And if you find the diadem, give it to me.”

“Arrest me?” memory Tom asked in astonishment, while Robards and Dawlish grabbed his
arms. “And search my house? Do you have an order for this?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Travers said and shot a silencing charm at memory Tom while
Shacklebolt cast a disarming charm at him, easily catching the wand that shot out from its
holster on Tom’s arm before handing it to Robards. It didn’t look like Tom’s actual yew
wand, which was very light in colour. “We’re going to feed you to the dementors before the
day is over, mark my words,” Travers snarled with an ugly sneer

“What the hell,” Harry muttered, anxiety coiling in his belly and tightening his shoulders.

“It’s already happened,” Tom quickly assured him, his smile turning soft while his eyes
crinkled as he looked down at Harry. “I’m alive and well. Just enjoy the show.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry sighed, inhaling deep breaths a few times to loosen his body. “Was
that your wand?”

“Yes, but I used runes to disguise it. It now registers as fir wood with a phoenix feather core,
made by a French wandmaker. Even Ollivander wouldn’t be able to recognize it anymore.”

Harry smiled briefly. “I love runes.” Then he quickly focused back on the action where
Moody was sending Aurors left and right into the manor while Travers, Dawlish and Robards
hauled memory Tom away outside where they forced him to touch a portkey.

A quick, spinning ride later they found themselves in the ministry atrium where Travers,
Dawlish and Robards hauled a silently protesting memory Tom straight into the elevators and
down towards the courtrooms.
Harry wanted to ask Tom a million questions about what was happening and why, but he
realized he’d probably get all the answers by simply watching the memory unfold, so he kept
his mouth shut, though it wasn’t easy.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said from where he stood in his customary centre spot as the Chief
Warlock of the Wizengamot in the biggest of the ministry courtrooms, the same one they’d
used to try to expel Harry from Hogwarts before his fifth year. “Here they are, the reason I
called this emergency meeting.” All around them witches and wizards were finding their
seats, muttering complaints about the last-minute summons they’d received.

“What is the meaning of this?” Amelia Bones asked from her reserved spot as the Head of
Magical Law Enforcement. She turned to look at Rufus Scrimgeour, who as the Head Auror
sat beside her. “Rufus, did you order any arrests?”

Scrimgeour quickly shook his head but never had a chance to speak.

“I’m afraid that is my doing,” Dumbledore said genially, as though he hadn’t just broken a
dozen laws. “I merely urged Alastor Moody to secure this very dangerous individual, and he
must have taken some of his Auror friends along to do so.”

Amelia Bones was staring at Dumbledore as if she was seeing the man’s true nature for the
very first time. “Dawlish, is this man silenced?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dawlish said, no longer looking quite as confident as he’d done just moments
before.

Amelia swished her wand to cancel the spell. “Release him at once. Sir, what is your name?”

“Now, Amelia, you have no idea who you are dealing with,” Dumbledore said in clear
warning, while glaring at Amelia.

“If you’d shut up, Dumbledore, I would, since I just asked for the man’s name,” Amelia
snapped, which took Dumbledore aback so much he actually took a physical step back.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” memory Tom said, while shuffling away from the Aurors who had just
released their hold on his arms. “My name is Thomas Gaunt, and my home was just invaded
by at least two dozen Aurors who told me they were there to arrest me and search my house,
though when I asked to see an official order they denied me and simply silenced me before
dragging me here while promising to feed me to the dementors before the day was over. That
is all I know, but I’d be delighted to learn why I am being targeted and hauled in front of a
court without the chance to arrange legal representation.”

“Now what is this about another emergency meeting, all within the same week?” Fudge
muttered as he finally arrived and took his customary spot as the Minister for Magic.

Dumbledore ignored the small interruption and raised his head as he looked down at memory
Tom with narrowed eyes. “I do believe we both know why you are here, Tom. There is no
need to continue this charade.”
Memory Tom blinked large, disbelieving eyes at Dumbledore before turning towards Amelia,
who looked about two seconds away from using an unforgivable on Dumbledore.

“Amelia?” Fudge asked while Pius Thicknesse joined him in his stand. “What on earth is
going on?”

“That’s the new Undersecretary after dear Dolores got sentenced to life in Azkaban,” Tom
whispered to Harry, who had just been about to ask what Thicknesse was doing there.

All around them, witches and wizards were sitting in silence, watching the whole spectacle
unfold with bated breath, realizing that Dumbledore might very well have pushed things too
far simply judging from Amelia and Scrimgeour’s expressions of absolute fury.

“Cornelius, I have no idea what is happening,” Amelia said while briefly glancing at the
minister. “Aside from the fact that Dumbledore apparently hasn’t learned a single thing from
the trial of Sirius Black last Monday and still believes he is above the law.”

“Well, now, Dumbledore,” Fudge said, squaring his shoulders as he glared at the old man,
who was looking back in polite bewilderment, as though he couldn’t possibly understand
why anyone would be mad at him, ever. “Explain yourself!”

“I most certainly will, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said and took his time looking around the
whole courtroom, making sure all eyes were on him before continuing. “This man,” and he
emphasized his words by pointing a steady finger at memory Tom, who was still looking
mostly confused, “Is Lord Voldemort.”

If Dumbledore was expecting some sort of dramatic reaction from the people around him, he
didn’t get it.

Amelia ran a very tired hand across her face while Fudge puffed up in outrage.
“Preposterous!”

Several witches and wizards looked around in disbelief, murmuring amongst each other
about this ridiculous accusation. Not a single person in the entire room looked as though they
believed Dumbledore, not even those that usually supported the headmaster.

Meanwhile, memory Tom stood gaping up at Dumbledore with his mouth hanging open.
“Pardon?” he finally said while closing his mouth and swallowing a few times.

“You may believe you can fool the whole world, Tom,” Dumbledore said in a thundering
voice. “But you do not fool me. You never have and you never will.”

“He’s finally gone senile,” a wizard Harry didn’t know said loudly in the dead silence that
followed Dumbledore’s dramatic response.

The door to the courtroom banged open and a witch in her late thirties marched in, briefcase
in hand. “Now what is this I hear about the ministry arresting my client without just cause
while illegally searching his home?”
“Merlin’s buggering balls, it’s her!” Fudge said, his voice echoing around the whole room
before he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Sybil Post, solicitor for Thomas Gaunt,” the woman introduced herself to the room,
confirming Harry’s suspicions she was the same solicitor who had helped get Sirius freed.
She had long, curly brown hair she wore in a low bun and large glassed were perched on her
pointy nose. At first glance she looked like a friendly school teacher but there was an
incredibly determined glint in her brown eyes. “I will now hear the charges filed against my
client, please.”

“There are no charges,” Amelia said with a resigned sigh.

“Now see here, Amelia,” Dumbledore said at once. “I just told you, this is Lord Voldemort,
who has tortured and killed dozens of fine witches and wizards over many years and who
should face justice for every single crime he has committed."

“I can’t believe Dumbledore is acting so wilfully blind,” Harry whispered with a quick glance
to the side, where Tom raised his hand and snapped his fingers so the images around them
stopped moving, like a paused movie on a screen. Harry turned to look at Tom in confusion
until he noticed Tom’s positively smug smile that lit up his entire face. “Tom…what did you
do?”

Tom actually cackled, which was such a delightful sound that Harry started laughing, too,
though he had no idea why since nothing funny had happened yet. “I had Dobby spy on
Dumbledore for over a week, and that eager little elf informed me Dumbledore likes to drink
herbal tea in the evening. He even gave me the exact brand and blend he prefers.”

“Oh no,” Harry said, having a vague idea where this was going. “You did something to the
tea.”

Tom briefly ran his tongue across his teeth while still grinning madly, which was oddly
distracting to Harry. “I bought a few bags of this specific herbal blend and mixed in finally
ground dried petals of a night orchid known as Lady of the Night. The flavour and scent are
slightly sweet and citrusy so you won’t notice them in a herbal tea, especially not since
Dumbledore drinks his with lots of honey. Then I had Dobby replace Dumbledore’s batch
with this new version and he’s been drinking it all week.”

“What does it do?” Harry asked, almost forgetting to breathe in anticipation of the answer.

Tom looked as eager as Harry felt. “It lowers inhibitions, but in such a way that it’s very mild
and almost undetectable. It merely takes away a person’s ability to question their actions and
foresee consequences.”

“That is fucking brilliant,” Harry breathed, eyes widening in sheer awe at that simply yet
highly effective plan. “That is absolutely genius. It’s like magically giving Dumbledore the
slightest push he needs to hang himself.”

“Exactly,” Tom agreed with a proud nod at Harry. “Dumbledore is a very clever and cautious
man who by himself would never accuse me openly of being Voldemort, not without very
believable evidence.”

“He certainly never did so in our past lives. Call you out publicly, I mean,” Harry said while
thinking back at how Dumbledore had acted then. “After you’d returned he talked to lots of
people telling them you were back, but he never tried to force you out like this.”

“Because he knew that wouldn’t work,” Tom said, eyes gazing off into the distance as he was
obviously also remembering those events. “I knew then that keeping myself hidden in the
shadows for a time was needed to set up my Death Eaters in key positions so we could
eventually take over the ministry in one coup.”

“Yeah, and back then Dumbledore understood that. But now he can no longer rationalize
those consequences and he makes a fool of himself in front of the whole world, got it.” Harry
started laughing again in sheer glee. “This is so diabolical. I love it.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Tom said with one of the most self-satisfied smiles Harry had ever
seen. “I’m so glad you approve of my little scheme to force Dumbledore into some kind of
action. If I hadn’t applied the orchid, I doubt he would have acted like this. He’d just been
hiding away with his Order while whispering into people’s ears I was a person they needed to
avoid while he took his time gathering evidence.”

“And now he’s making a public spectacle of himself instead and no one will believe a word
that man says about you ever again. Brilliant. And aren’t house-elves amazing?” Harry felt
compelled to say, since he’d heard Tom complain about them a few times over their many
conversations, how he’d always looked down on his pureblooded friends for relying on the
damned things so much.

“I’m starting to understand their appeal a bit better, I suppose,” Tom said, though he looked
like that wasn’t easy to admit. Then he snapped his fingers again and the images around them
started moving once more.

“Be silent,” Fudge hissed at Dumbledore. “You’ve gotten the ministry in enough trouble as is
last Monday.”

“Is my client free to go?” Sybil Post asked while looking around the room.

Before anyone could answer the doors banged open again and Alastor Moody came clunking
in, Ravenclaw’s diadem clutched in his hand. “Found it! It can now go back where it
belongs.”

“That is my client’s property,” Sybil pointed out at once.

“It belongs to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said in a frankly off-putting tone that was far too
pompous.

“No, it doesn’t,” memory Tom said, looking like he’d finally gathered enough courage to
speak up for himself. “It belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw personally before it got lost. As per
the Treasure Act of 1751, if a magical item has been lost for more than two hundred years
and no living descendants exist to claim said magical item, it belongs to the person
recovering it.”

“Moody, give the diadem to Mr Gaunt,” Amelia said, her eyes blazing with so much fury
Harry was genuinely surprised they weren’t shooting flames across the room yet. “Also,
Moody, you’re suspended without pay for at least a month for illegally conducting a search
and arrest without going through the proper, legal channels. An investigation will be started
into you professional behaviour and it may lead to your permanent dismissal from the Auror
force.”

“Amelia,” Moody barked, his magical eye rolling around in its socket while he glared up at
her. “You’re letting You Know Who off the hook?”

“Enough!” Surprisingly, it wasn’t Amelia who shouted this, but Tiberius Ogden, who rose to
his feet from his seat in between the many Wizengamot members. As far as Harry knew,
Tiberius Ogden was a staunch supporter of the light and had been for his entire, very long
life, so to see him lose his shit like this was memorable, to say the least.

“Just this past Monday we all had to sit through a travesty of justice,” Tiberius Ogden said
while taking his time to gaze around the room before pointing a finger at Dumbledore. “This
man was partially responsible for the illegal imprisonment without a trial of an heir of a
prominent family. We all heard his excuses and I bought none of them. And now, not even a
week later, this man believes he can ignore the law again to accost yet another young man
without evidence.”

“Hufflepuff?” Harry guessed, which earned him a chuckle from Tom.

“Yes, the Ogdens are known for sorting primarily into Hufflepuff.”

Harry nodded wisely. “Yeah, I have Hufflepuff friends now. I recognize the signs.”

Ogden paused for a brief moment. “No more! I propose a vote of no-confidence for the Chief
Warlock.”

“Seconded,” Dorus called while remaining seated. Around them more witches and wizards
called out their agreement, some Harry knew, like Augusta Longbottom and Lucius Malfoy,
but there were also a handful of people Harry had never seen before.

Fudge banged a hammer against the wooden bench in front of him. “The motion is heard. We
shall now vote on the removal of Albus Dumbledore as the Chief Warlock. All in favour,
raise your wands.” And Fudge was the first to do so, but quickly more and more people
around the room followed his example until it was obvious more than half had their wands
up.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was gaping as he looked like he had no clue how it had come to
this. Which he probably didn’t, since he was drugged to the gills with an inhibition loosening
orchid and he was unable to rationalize things like usual.
“Motion carried. Dumbledore, step down,” Fudge said in obvious delight as he banged his
hammer again. “Since you have no Wizengamot seat of your own and this is a closed
meeting, you are hereby dismissed. Aurors, escort him out.”

For a moment, Dawlish, Travers and Robards seemed confused about this sudden turn of
events, but Amelia gestured harshly at them to get going and they rushed towards
Dumbledore to lead him to the doors.

“You are making a grave mistake!” Dumbledore called over his shoulder as he was forced to
leave. “Voldemort is back! Mark my words!”

“Wow.” Harry stared at the happenings full of disbelief. “You actually got Dumbledore fired
as Chief Warlock. That is something else.”

Tom cackled again, much to Harry’s secret pleasure. “Last Monday, during your godfather’s
trial, Lucius called for a vote of no-confidence, but Dumbledore managed to make it through
that, if only just. But even I hadn’t seen it coming that he still would be sacked within a
week, though I am delighted by the results.”

“I bet. Dumbledore’s reputation is really taking a few enormous hits right now, isn’t it?”
Harry shared a knowing look with his soulmate.

Tom nodded with a grin that was all teeth. “Oh yes, and we’ve only just started.”

“Mr Gaunt, you are free to go with the ministry’s sincerest apologies,” Amelia said with a
firm nod.

“Do you wish to lodge a formal complaint or press for financial compensation?” Sybil asked
memory Tom, looking rather eager for Tom to say yes.

“I think we can let it slide, this time,” memory Tom said while looking between Amelia and
Fudge. “It was clear to me Mr Dumbledore seems to be suffering from at least a few mental
maladies. But if such illegal acts occur again, I will have Miss Post take action.”

“Duly noted. Thank you, Mr Gaunt,” Fudge said in obvious relief. The large compensation
the ministry was forced to pay Sirius not even a week prior was probably still bothering the
minister.

“Aurors, return Mr Gaunt’s wand,” Amelia shouted at Travers, Dawlish and Robards, who
had just returned from throwing Dumbledore out. Robards quickly did so, and memory Tom
accepted it with a cool, short nod before turning around and following Sybil out of the
courtroom.

“This is the end of the memory,” Tom said and at once they found themselves back in the
Shrieking Shack.

“That was awesome,” Harry sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Truly well worth getting
soaked to the bone for.”
“We’re not done yet.” Tom scooped up the silvery substance with his wand and pressed it to
his temple to put the memory back in his head. Then he produced a vial with a different
memory. “Severus gave this to me just before I came here. It’s his memory of the Order
meeting from earlier this evening. Do you want to see it?”

“Are you kidding me?” Harry bounced in his chair, he was so excited. “Tom, you’re
absolutely spoiling me. Yes, I want to see it!”

“I haven’t even seen it myself,” Tom said as he emptied the vial into the pensieve. “Let’s
have a look, shall we?”

Together, they lowered their faces into the memory and within moments found themselves
standing behind Snape who pushed open the backdoor of the Burrow and stepped inside. The
Burrow’s kitchen was packed with lots of people all talking over each other. Most Harry
knew, though some he couldn’t recall ever seeing before.

Molly Weasley levitated pots of coffee and tea onto the table, alongside plates of biscuits and
slices of cake, but most people seemed to ignore the offerings in favour of arguing.

“Ah, Severus, you’re here,” Dumbledore said while waving his hands around to calm
everyone down so he could be heard. “Let’s get started.”

Harry was happy to see that Sirius and Lupin weren’t there. Sirius was still in the hospital, at
least according to the last letter his godfather had sent him and Harry imagined Lupin was
staying by his side for now.

“Lord Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore said, and this time he got a much more dramatic
response from the people around him, though a few did look sceptical at that bit of news.

“How did this happen?” Arthur Weasley asked, face pale while his wife was dabbing at her
eyes with a patched handkerchief she pulled out of her sleeve.

“I’m not sure how exactly he has managed to return or who specifically has helped him,”
Dumbledore said while gesturing again for everyone to remain calm as a lot of people were
muttering amongst themselves again. “Unfortunately the ministry has been less than helpful
so far. They have sided with Voldemort for now.”

“No, they haven’t,” Moody spat, stepping out of the shadowy corner he’d been lurking in.
“They merely didn’t believe you on your word because after the whole Sirius Black debacle
they weren’t eager to ignore a whole bunch of laws again merely on your say so. And it cost
us both our jobs.”

“Now, now, Alastor,” Dumbledore said optimistically, still gesturing all around since now
people were demanding answers left and right. “I lost my position as the Chief Warlock, that
is true, but you merely got suspended for a month, for which I am truly sorry. I had not
foreseen the Wizengamot’s unwillingness to see the truth before their eyes.”

“Because you didn’t give them a shred of evidence!” Moody all but snarled. “Just had him
hauled in front of the whole Wizengamot without even informing Fudge and Bones and
Scrimgeour beforehand.”

“What is done is done,” Dumbledore said with a tired sigh, turning away from Moody to look
at Snape, who simply stood quietly to the side, observing all that was happening. “Severus,
what news do you have?”

“None,” Snape said at once while crossing his arms as most people turned to look at him. “I
have checked with all my contacts, Lucius, Macnair, Yaxley, the Carrows and more, and none
of them have received a summons. The Dark Lord, if that man is indeed the Dark Lord,
hasn’t had contact with any of his followers as far as I am aware.”

“That is odd,” Dumbledore conceded with a small nod.

“Albus,” McGonagall said, looking incredibly dubious about all she was hearing. “Are you
sure this is Voldemort reborn? I agree the man looks the spitting image of Tom Riddle, but
there are differences in their appearance.”

“How so?” Molly Weasley asked, looking between Dumbledore and McGonagall in
confusion.

“Tom Riddle had brown eyes, and this man’s eyes are blue, for one. Not the mention their
hair colour is different,” McGonagall said.

“None of this matters,” Dumbledore tried to assure everyone quickly. “Voldemort is the only
remaining descendant of Slytherin and therefore of the Gaunt name. And this man calls
himself Thomas Gaunt.”

“That might not be entirely true,” Snape said quietly, yet plenty of arguing people heard him
and stopped talking to see what he had to say.

“Severus, what do you mean?” Dumbledore widened his eyes as he stared at Snape.

“There were rumours, no, mere whispers, of a child being fathered by the Dark Lord,” Snape
said carefully, delicately while every eye in the room was on him. “It is possible this man is
that child, all grown up and now aware of his heritage enough that he claimed the Gaunt
name.”

“What the hell?” Harry stared daggers at Snape, but before he could voice his anger, Tom
snapped his fingers and the images stopped moving.

“I instructed Severus to spread the rumour of my heritage if he got the chance,” Tom
explained, causing Harry to release a deep breath. “I need to somehow spread this story
around, since it would be odd for me to happily claim to be Voldemort’s son while also being
opposed to Voldemort’s actions and politics.”

“Yeah, I get it. This way you can eventually tearfully yet bravely confess that you are
Voldemort’s bastard child but that you never knew him, blah, blah, blah,” Harry said while
grinning up at Tom.
“Well, perhaps not tearfully, but that is the gist of that plan, yes.” Tom snapped his fingers
again and the memories continued playing around them.

“Voldemort fathering a child?” Moody wondered out loud with a harsh chuckle. “Who would
even have him?”

Snape’s expression was utterly blank. “I do not believe the Dark Lord ever asked for consent
from the eventual mother of his child.”

Moody didn’t seem very apologetic for his remarks, but he did shut up.

“There is no evidence of Voldemort fathering a child,” Dumbledore pointed out loudly, since
the whole room was filled with many voices speculating on this new turn of events.

“But it makes a heck of a lot more sense than your theory of Voldemort being reborn out of
the blue, without any help of his followers,” McGonagall replied with an impatient look.
“Perhaps we should gather evidence, real evidence, of this man’s heritage before drawing any
conclusions that might cost more people their jobs, or worse.”

“I agree with Minerva,” Arthur Weasley said while Molly looked like she wasn’t sure what to
believe anymore. More and more Order members voiced their agreement of McGonagall’s
plan and Dumbledore released a resigned sigh.

“Very well. Let’s make it a priority to discover Thomas Gaunt’s real identity,” Dumbledore
finally conceded. “Severus, ask your contacts what they know of this.”

Snape nodded once and turned on his heels to rush out the door. The memory ended there and
a dazed Harry sat up in the main room of the Shrieking Shack, staring at Tom opposite him.

“Even Dumbledore’s Order doesn’t believe him on his word anymore,” Harry couldn’t help
but say while his whole body filled with gleeful excitement. He suddenly had too much
energy and he jumped up from his chair to dart around the table towards Tom. “That is the
best news I’ve heard in ages.”

“It is indeed most welcome,” Tom agreed with a smile that lit up his eyes.

Harry laughed, head thrown back in sheer joy at their success and without even knowing
what he was doing, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Tom’s neck and
tightened them into an embrace. Tom, for his part, stiffened in his chair, sitting as still as a
statue as Harry’s brain slowly came back down from its brief moment of overwhelming
euphoria.

Fucking hell. He was hugging Tom.

Now what?
 Chapter 36
Chapter Summary

Tom and Harry talk. That's it. That's the chapter.

Chapter Notes

Yes, another chapter very quickly, but this is probably the last one for a few days at
least.

As always, thanks so much for reading and for all your support and comments. They
make my day.

Chapter 36

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d found himself in a more awkward position as
right there and then, with his arms wrapped around a rigid Tom.

If you’d asked Harry why he did it, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. He was just so
elated in that moment, and Tom was right there and important and his friend and it happened
before Harry even realized what he was doing.

And now he stood hugging Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, his prophesized enemy, and also
the man who singlehandedly made Harry question his sexuality to the point that he was now
quite sure he had feelings for Tom that went beyond sexual attraction or even a simple crush.

Here was the thing, though. Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry never received positive
physical contact. He wasn’t used to it and didn’t really understand how any of it worked.
Even after starting Hogwarts in his first life, positive physical contact had been incredibly
limited. A rare slap on the back from Ron or the twins, or a very brief hug from Hermione or
Mrs Weasley and that was it.

And during his doomed relationship with Ginny she was the one who pretty much always
initiated any physical contact and Harry had let her since he didn’t have a clue how to go
about doing any of those physical things.

And yet, here he was, arms wrapped tightly around a man who meant more to him now than
anyone else had ever done. There was no contest, not with any of his former or current
friends.
The feelings Harry had for Tom went deeper than any feelings for anyone else, ever.

They went soul-deep, because they were as close to being real soulmates as anyone could
ever hope to be.

Tom’s hair brushed against Harry’s cheek in a soft caress and only now did Harry realize that
Tom had a scent that was his own. Harry inhaled once, twice and he didn’t think he’d ever
smelled anything before that was simultaneously as exciting yet comforting as Tom’s scent.
Like walking through a forest after the rain, earthy yet fresh, but also masculine with a hint of
spices that was probably some sort of cologne, but underneath all of that something musky
that made Harry want to bury his nose in the nape of Tom’s neck and inhale as deeply as he
could, but he didn’t because he wasn’t fucking crazy even if his current position suggested
otherwise.

And then, out of nowhere, an arm slipped around Harry’s waist and pulled him just a fraction
closer until Harry stood pressed against Tom’s thigh while Tom hugged him back.

Oh.

This was even better, yet also even more awkward, because now Harry was silently panicking
about how to end the hug.

He had no clue how long hugs were supposed to last. What if he ended it too soon? What if
he dragged it on too long? Should he say something? No, Harry knew at once that whatever
happened, he should keep his mouth shut, because words were not his friends in awkward
situations.

How did anyone know how to do any of this? Not to sound like Hermione, but were there
books available that discussed these things, because Harry was in desperate need of one.

Tom’s firm body moved underneath him for a moment and Tom’s face brushed against the
side of Harry’s and was Tom smelling him like Harry had done to him earlier? Was this
supposed to happen? And what was Tom smelling right now? When had Harry last
showered? Probably that morning, or was it the night before? Harry couldn’t remember and
at once he worried he stank of sweat or worse, potions, because they’d had potions that
morning and what had they been brewing again that might make Harry stink?

Before Harry could descend into a full-blown panic attack, Tom pulled back from the hug
and Harry was forced to let go, much to his immediate regret because hugging Tom had been
nice, overall, if you ignored the awkwardness and almost anxiety attack.

Tom ducked his head and cleared his throat while Harry took a wobbly step backwards.

Perhaps now was the time to say something, Harry mused, yet all he could come up with to
say was, “Let’s never talk about this happening.”

“Agreed,” Tom said at once and finally looked up to meet Harry’s eyes, though his
expression was carefully neutral. “Tea?”
“Yes!” Harry released a shuddering breath and dashed back to his own chair, sitting down at
once.

“Dobby!” Tom called and a second later Dobby appeared, looking between Tom and Harry
with wide eyes before a cautious smile appeared on his face.

“The great Master Tom is calling Dobby?”

“Tea for two, please,” Tom said and Dobby popped away without comment. Tom shifted in
his seat, leaning both forearms on the edge of the table so he could look Harry straight in the
eye. “I had expected at least some questions from you concerning Dobby being in my
employ, but it seems you already knew about that. How curious, since I can’t recall
mentioning it to you before this evening.”

“Er…” Harry licked his lips, wondering how on earth he was going to spin this story without
getting Dobby in trouble for sneaking off to meet him.

“So it was Dobby,” Tom said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “That elf did seem
awfully smug after you contacted me and we made up after the whole Umbridge debacle.”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Harry pleaded at once.

Tom seemed genuinely insulted by the idea of him hurting his house-elf. “I’ll thank you to
remember that I’m not the Malfoys, Harry.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” Harry said quickly, unsure why he’d even thought Tom might hurt his
house-elves. From what he’d seen of Tom with his soul intact, he wasn’t the type to do such a
thing. “And yeah, Dobby came to see me since you hadn’t forbidden him to do so. It was
something he said that made me realize why I was so upset with you, so he did good.”

“Hm.” Tom looked like he wanted to say more, but at that moment Dobby returned with a
huge tray holding a complete tea service.

“Let me get this.” Tom pulled Snape’s memory out of the pensieve and back into the vial and
then levitated the pensieve towards a wooden crate that stood on the floor to the right. Dobby
got the tea service situated between them and then stood waiting patiently to see if his master
had another command for him.

Tom looked between Dobby and Harry with a promising smile. “Well, since Harry is aware
of you, Dobby, we might as well break the news to him that you’re to become his elf for
Yule. Or we can switch you over right now, since it seems silly to wait a few more weeks if
everyone is in the know anyway.”

But instead of looking happy, as Harry had expected he would at the news of becoming Harry
Potter’s house-elf, Dobby pursed his lips while his eyes widened and his eyebrows curved in
a way that made him look like a sad little Disney puppy.

“You don’t want to be my elf?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised. In their previous life,
Dobby had been a huge admirer of Harry before they even met and had ultimately given his
life to save Harry’s.

Dobby fidgeted with his pillowcase while scuffing a foot across the wooden floor as he
ducked his head. “Oh, Dobby would be more than honoured to become Harry Potter’s elf.
But Dobby loves working for the great Master Tom, especially because he gets to work with
Plucky, who Dobby likes very much.”

For a moment, Harry wasn’t sure what Dobby was saying, but then he got it. “Ah! You like
Plucky, and you want to continue working with her. Yeah, I get it, Dobby, and you should
stay with Tom if that is what you want.”

Tom sighed and shook his head in a rather resigned fashion.

“I have Kreacher already,” Harry said, just to make sure Tom understood Harry’s reasoning
for turning down his very thoughtful and generous gift. “He’s as good as my house-elf
anyway, since he hates Sirius. And you got Dobby away from the Malfoys, that is what’s
most important.”

“Yes, fine. Dobby, you can return home.” Without further comment and looking only slightly
put out, Tom went about serving them both tea while Harry helped himself to a chocolate
biscuit. “Winky prefers the more domestic tasks, and Plucky is very talented with the garden
and renovating the house, and I suppose I can continue using Dobby for more adventurous
work.”

“Like spying on Dumbledore,” Harry said with a grin, reaching for another biscuit. They
were delicious and he couldn’t help himself.

“It was Dobby who suggested that in the first place,” Tom said while he sipped his cup of tea.
“I was complaining about not knowing Dumbledore’s next move to Barty at the breakfast
table and before I knew it that elf had a whole plan worked out on how to find out.”

“Yeah, Dobby has always been fond of sneaking around while skirting the rules,” Harry said
while he also picked up his cup of tea. “Are you going to continue spiking Dumbledore’s tea?
Because if he keeps acting so irrationally, it might be too obvious.”

“You have a good point,” Tom said with a slow nod. He, too, treated himself to a chocolate
biscuit. Harry loved that for some reason, that Tom liked to indulge in sweet treats, though he
had no clue why he would find such a silly thing endearing. “I suppose we’ll let Dumbledore
finish the spiked batch he’s using now and let him go back to his own tea for a while. We can
always have Dobby replace another batch in the future if we need him to act irrationally
again.”

“Yeah, that seems like the smartest thing, because I noticed at once he was acting
differently,” Harry said with an agreeable nod while he sipped more tea. “I have never even
heard of that orchid before. We never learned about it in herbology or potions, I don’t think.”

“You wouldn’t have, since it’s mostly a muggle plant. The effects are mild enough that most
wizards don’t bother with it, since there are far stronger and better compulsion charms or
potions available,” Tom explained with a sly smile and eyes that shone with cleverness.
“Muggles in certain parts of Asia use it as a cheap and mild party drug.”

“Huh.” Harry got a knowing look on his face. “Let me guess, in a batch of herbal tea it won’t
even show up when scanned for harmful ingredients.”

“Exactly,” Tom agreed with a chuckle. “I hadn’t heard of it either, but Nagini mentioned it
when I discussed possible plans with her to draw Dumbledore out while Dobby was spying
on him.”

Harry blinked. “Your snake knew of a muggle orchid that’s a mild party drug?”

Putting his teacup down, Tom stared at Harry for a few seconds before laughing. “You don’t
know about Nagini. I’d have thought Dumbledore would have told you, since he certainly
knew.”

“I know you had a big, honking mean snake as a pet in our first lives, but I’m beginning to
think I’m missing something here,” Harry said, his voice tight in obvious frustration. He gave
Tom a pleading look.

“Nagini is a Maledictus,” Tom said as though that word made any sense whatsoever. Clearly
Harry’s confusion was written all over his face because Tom was kind enough to explain. “A
Maledictus is a witch born with a blood curse that is passed down from mother to daughter.
They have the ability to transform into an animal though at some point in their life they will
became stuck as that animal, unable to transform back into human form.”

“Nagini is a human?” Harry asked, sitting up in alarm as he felt the blood drain from his face.
“Neville cut off her head with Gryffindor’s sword, for fuck’s sake, thinking it was just your
pet snake. And fuck Dumbledore! Fuck him so very much right now. He never, ever
mentioned what Nagini really was, just that she was a horcrux that needed to be destroyed.”
Harry sighed and ran a hand down his face while he sat back in his chair, suddenly tired.

“And it was Dumbledore that accidentally introduced us,” Tom said just to make matters
worse. That old bastard had so much to answer for. “He mentioned to Nagini one of his
students was a parselmouth, and Nagini tracked me down when she was still human, after I
finished Hogwarts. Dumbledore tried to keep Nagini from joining me, offering to keep her at
Hogwarts even as a snake, but Nagini preferred to stay with someone who could at least
communicate with her. Not that long after we met, less than a year, she became stuck in her
snake form.”

“I never, ever in a million years would have guessed any of that,” Harry said, deeply
astonished about everything he’d just learned. “Where is she now? I mean, where has she
been all this time?”

“My safe house. She can enter and leave it at will, and it has a lot of land, with a river and
woodlands, so there’s plenty of prey for her to hunt there. She doesn’t need to eat that much
anyway, so she had no problem surviving on her own for years.” Tom refilled first his own
cup with tea, and then Harry’s. “That’s where I’d left her when I went to kill the Potters.
Before that time she was always with me, accompanying me on my travels if I went abroad
or staying with me in my safe house.”

Something bitter and angry came to life in Harry’s chest and he recognized that
overwhelming feeling from the time he’d been infatuated with Ginny. God, he was feeling
jealous of Nagini. Harry cleared his throat, suddenly worried perhaps Tom had once had an
intimate relationship with her, maybe before she got stuck as a snake?. But Tom liked men,
he’d said so. But had he always liked men, or had he slept with Nagini and then realized he
preferred something else?

“Harry,” Tom said, voice suddenly filled with concern. “You look about ready to throw some
curses. Talk to me, my dear.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry muttered and inhaled a deep breath to calm his suddenly racing heart.
Sometimes he really hated emotions and he perfectly understood why once upon a time Tom
had thought it an excellent idea to do away with them entirely. “She was still a woman when
you met?”

“She was only ever my friend,” Tom said with a rather knowing glint in his eyes as he took in
Harry’s obviously relieved response to that statement. Harry sighed deeply while his
shoulders lost their tightness at once. “She was born in Indonesia where she was found by
someone running a magical circus. She performed in it for many years, and that is where she
chose the name Nagini for herself, because it suited her better. Eventually she got involved
briefly in the struggle against Grindelwald, which is how she met Dumbledore and some time
later, me. ”

“Dumbledore always claimed you never had friends,” Harry felt compelled to point out, since
it was obvious the old man had no clue what he was talking about when it came to Tom
Riddle.

“Utter nonsense. As Tom Riddle, I had plenty of friends, and even as Voldemort I still had
Nagini, who was very dear to me even as my mind slipped further and further into insanity.”
Tom offered Harry a rather hopeful look. “She’d like to meet you. I’ve told her everything
that’s happened to us, and she’s eager to get to know you.” Tom seemed suddenly
embarrassed as he briefly looked down, fingers busying themselves with rotating the teacup
in his hands a few time. “She’s the closest thing I have to family so I’d like it if I could
introduce you.”

“Oh.” Harry felt a fire ignite in his belly and he worried his entire face might erupt into
flames at any time. Tom wanted Harry to meet his family. “Yes, I’d love to. And I can talk to
her, so that would be cool.” Harry frowned for a moment as he realized something. “It’s just,
you never really mentioned her before now and we’ve been talking for months.”

“I am aware,” Tom said with a sigh while staring up at the ceiling. “I’ve only recently
returned to my safehouse and met up with her again. Before that…I wasn’t sure…”

“Oh, you were embarrassed,” Harry guessed, understanding that much from talking with Tom
as much as they did. Tom genuinely felt embarrassment and regret about all the things he’d
done as Voldemort, and having to face someone he considered family would be a huge step to
take to explain to them why you’d accidentally turned yourself insane and almost destroyed
the world.

“It was indeed rather embarrassing,” Tom conceded, still not meeting Harry’s eyes. “Nagini
believes herself to occupy the role of an older sister of sorts and she’s always cautioned me to
stop creating as many horcruxes and yes, she took great pleasure in rubbing my own stupid
mistakes in my face once I finally went to see her.”

Harry grinned and couldn’t hold back a bout of laughter. “I’d love to meet her, really.”

“I’ll take you to my safehouse during the holidays.” Tom finally looked at Harry again, but
his gaze quickly turned serious, his brows drawn down and eyes narrowed. “Nagini did
remind me of something we have yet to really discuss between us.”

“What?”

“The prophecy.”

At once Harry’s good mood diminished significantly and he sagged in his chair. “Oh. That
thing.”

“Yes, I’d rather forget about the damned thing, too, but Nagini pointed out that Dumbledore
might very well try to use it against us in some way, so it might benefit us to at least discuss
it.”

“You don’t know the prophecy,” Harry said in realization, suddenly remembering that
Voldemort had never gotten his hands on the complete thing.

“No, I don’t, so if you’re willing to share, I’m very happy to listen,” Tom said while quirking
a single eyebrow.

“Yeah, sure.” But instead of just rattling off the prophecy, Harry actually had to think for a
moment. In his first life, after the battle of Hogwarts, Harry had all but deleted any detail of
the prophecy from his mind, unwilling to give the bloody thing anymore thought ever again.
Now, though, Tom had a point. They might no longer care about the prophecy, but
Dumbledore certainly still did and it would be foolish to not at least go over it together to
ward off anything Dumbledore might one day try to throw at them.

“Okay, I remember now. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh months dies. And the Dark
Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either
must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with
the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh months dies.” Harry slowly
folded his hands on the table in front of him and waited for Tom to react.

Tom, in the meantime, sat still as a statue while he gazed at something over Harry’s shoulder,
clearly going over every sentence in his head to figure out what it all meant. At least, Harry
hoped he was occupied with that and he wasn’t suddenly planning Harry’s downfall after all
because of that stupid fucking prophecy.
Nah, Harry knew Tom wasn’t that kind of person anymore. Harry doubted Tom would have
returned the hug or told Harry Tom wanted for him to meet the person he considered a sister
if he still planned to do Harry in at some point. Still, thinking about the prophecy brought
back a lot of negative memories and emotions from the time they were still mortal enemies,
and Harry would just as soon forget that whole era.

“It’s been fulfilled,” Tom finally said, much to Harry’s relief. Tom offered him a small smile,
also appearing reassured that fate wouldn’t try to force them into enemy roles just because of
something silly Trelawney had once said. “It says you vanquish the Dark Lord, and you have,
in both lives. Our first one you destroyed my horcruxes and reflected the killing curse back to
me, and in our second life you ensured that my soul was in one piece upon our return, thus
bringing back Tom Riddle and doing away with Voldemort entirely.”

Harry gave Tom his biggest grin. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I’ve always
resented Trelawney for spouting that thing, during a job interview at the Hog’s Head of all
places.”

With a disbelieving snort, Tom actually buried his face in both hands, causing Harry to burst
out in laughter. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Tom muttered, barely audible.

“Nope. The woman who determined our lives in ways that are still hard to believe is a slosh
who made that prophecy during a job interview in a sleazy pub. And, incidentally, I’m quite
sure she doesn’t know a thing about real divination even if it bit her in the arse.”

“It could even be fake,” Tom said with a pensive look in his eyes. “Prophecies are registered
at the Department of Mysteries, but a wizard like Dumbledore could probably find a way
around that if he truly wanted.”

“No.” Harry shook his head over and over. “Don’t even go there, Tom. I don’t want to hear it.
Real or fake, the bloody thing is done for. And Dumbledore can try to force it to happen all
he wants, it’s us who have to act upon it, and we won’t, so case closed.”

“All right,” Tom said, head tilted as he gave Harry an undeniably fond look. “Case closed.
No more silly prophecies. Let’s talk about something else. That club of yours, you had a
meeting tonight?”

“Yes!” Harry sat up in his chair at once and snatched up another chocolate biscuit just
because he could. “It went splendidly. I talked about the old Yule rituals, to protect against
the Wild Hunt and no one freaked out or complained. They just asked questions.”

“That’s wonderful. And they’re still kids. They’re happy to hear all sorts of stories at this
point in their lives without having to consider the politics,” Tom said easily while he also
helped himself to another biscuit. “Though I still can’t understand how you can spend all
your time with them without slowly going bonkers.”

Harry snickered while he thought about that. “Sometimes they say things or do things that
baffle me, sure, because they’re kids. But overall I do enjoy spending time with them.”
“For now.” Tom gave Harry a pointed look. “Because you’re going to keep maturing, and
eventually you’ll be mentally twenty or twenty-one, while they will be thirteen or fourteen.”

“I know.”

“I understand why you want to do your Hogwarts years over, my dear, I truly do, but on the
other hand I worry that you’re merely wasting your time there.” Tom waited for Harry to give
a reaction, but Harry wasn’t sure what he could say to that, so Tom continued. “You can also
take your OWLs and NEWTs early at the International Confederation of Wizards in Rome.
That’s a little loophole I discovered. In the UK you need to be fifteen for your OWLs and
seventeen to sit your NEWTs. But at the ICW there is no age limit, and the Ministry of Magic
has to accept their results, even if the wizard taking them is underage.”

“You’ve been planning my whole life,” Harry said in a slightly accusatory tone.

“Only a little,” Tom replied with a crooked grin that did things to his face that made Harry
want to take a picture and keep it in his nightstand. “I signed myself up for the OWLs and
NEWTs at the ICW so I read their rules and that’s when I discovered that convenient little
loophole.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed at hearing that. “Ah. When are you
taking the tests?”

“Next week, I’ll be in Rome for ten days or so, right before you start your holidays.”

“So you’d better get studying,” Harry said with a cackle.

Tom looked entirely unimpressed with Harry’s suggestion. “I got straight O’s across the
board once, I’m sure I can do it again. But think about what I said, darling. Should you get
tired of playing with little children all day, there is a legitimate way out for you that doesn’t
involve running away and hiding or some such nonsense. You could simply take the official
exams at the ICW and even Dumbledore couldn’t force you back to school once you’ve
passed those.”

“All right,” Harry sighed, realizing that Tom did make some good points. Right at that
moment, Harry was enjoying his time at Hogwarts immensely. It really did feel like a do-over
for him, a chance to be the kid he never got to be during his first life. But Hogwarts had 6,5
more years of classes waiting for him, and it could very well be that before that time Harry
would honestly grow tired of it to the point he might want to take his OWLs and NEWTs
early. “Thanks for the tip. I might very well make use of that loophole in a few years.”

“You’re welcome.” Tom glanced at his watch. “And it’s past midnight. Perhaps we should
call it a night.”

“What? Merlin, yeah, I didn’t even let my friends know I would be off for a few hours, just
that I was visiting the loo. They’re going to be wondering.” Harry pushed his chair back and
got up, stretching his arms over his head. “Thanks for this, though. Seeing Dumbledore lose
his job was hilarious.”
“It was my pleasure, my dear. Now off to bed with you. The holidays are only a few more
weeks away and then we’ll exchange some more memories.”

“Yes, I’ll hold you to that.” And with a small wave, and some mild feelings of regret at
having to leave, Harry lowered himself down the trapdoor and hurried back to the castle. It
had stopped raining, thankfully, so Harry was still dry once he reached the dungeons.

“Where were you?” Theo whispered, his head sticking out between his bedcurtains as Harry
entered the dormitory. “We’ve been worried when you never returned.”

“Sorry,” Harry whispered back. All the other beds had their curtains drawn, too and everyone
seemed asleep already. “Something came up and Tom wanted to share some news.
Dumbledore got sacked as the Chief Warlock this afternoon.”

“Seriously?” Theo grinned at hearing that. “I’m sure we’ll see it in the paper tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Night, Theo,” Harry said as he gathered his pyjamas and disappeared into the
bathroom.

Something extraordinary happened. Or rather, for the next three weeks nothing out of the
ordinary happened, which was rather extraordinary, seeing as how tumultuous the weeks
since Tom’s resurrection had been. The whole month of November had seemed to consist of
one surprise after another. But thankfully December was utterly without them so far.

Harry felt like he could finally breathe again in some ways, like a weight had fallen off his
shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was on there in the first place. Everything was running
smoothly and no more surprises awaited him, at least for a while.

He talked to Tom on their mirrors, like they always did, and even when Tom spent time in
Rome to get his official exams done as Thomas Gaunt, he still made time to chat with Harry
at least for fifteen minutes or so every evening. Harry also sent a few letters to Sirius, who
always wrote back with complaints about the hospital food and stories about James and Lily.
After a week, Harry got a very happy letter in which Sirius told him he’d been released from
the hospital and was now staying at Black Manor in Cumbria, where Lupin was helping him
cleaning the place up a bit, which Harry translated as getting rid of dark artifacts and books.
Harry wanted desperately to have Sirius give those to him, but he couldn’t think of a way to
make that request as an eleven-year-old child. So eventually he asked Kreacher to be on the
lookout for any books Sirius threw away, in the Black Manor or Grimmauld Place, and to
save those he could and place them in Harry’s Gringotts vault. Kreacher was happy to
comply.

The news of Dumbledore’s dismissal from the Wizengamot did appear in the paper, but at
that point the students had already had so many shocks that week concerning the news, that it
hardly even registered. Dumbledore pretended nothing was amiss, though he did miss more
meals than usual, probably to search for evidence as to Tom’s real identity, but nothing came
of that yet.

Harry hosted two more Culture Club meetings, which remained popular and successful and
every student attending seemed to get something out of it, besides socializing with their peers
on a Friday evening.

Neville facilitated a few brief moments of correspondence between Harry and Augusta
Longbottom, to finalize the gifting of the Hogwarts book of rules and regulations to all the
students the morning of their departure for the Christmas holidays. Augusta provided a
signed letter on behalf of the Board of Governors, explaining to the students that while for
decades the book had been lost, thankfully an anonymous benefactor had found a copy and
provided it to the Board of Governors so it could now be distributed amongst the students
again, as it should have been in the first place. Kreacher had at that point already made more
than enough copies of the book for all students and he was ready to distribute books and
letters to every single student at Hogwarts when the time was right.

Of course, Harry’s peaceful break couldn’t last.

Two days before the start of the holidays, Snape called Harry into his office.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” Harry asked politely as he stood in front of Snape’s desk.

“The headmaster inquired as to your plans for the upcoming holidays. I informed him you
hadn’t added your name to the list of students who wish to remain at Hogwarts. Is that
correct?” Snape asked while giving Harry his customary glare filled with distaste, as though
speaking to Harry was on par with receiving suboptimal ingredients for brewing a lifesaving
potion.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said with a puzzled expression. “I’m going to spend time with my family.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “The headmaster has decreed that you shall remain at Hogwarts,
Potter.”

“The headmaster can go fuck himself,” Harry said before he could bite it back.

“Potter, you will keep a civil tongue in your head or I will have you in detention until June, is
that understood?” Snape snarled while leaning forward in his chair to better glare at Harry.

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir,” Harry said quickly, in slight disbelief Snape hadn’t taken points or
given him detention for that outburst . “What I meant to say was, the headmaster doesn’t
have the authority to keep me at Hogwarts. It’s not a prison, but a school. And the headmaster
is not my legal guardian, but my aunt is, and she wants me to spend my holidays away from
school.”

“See?” Snape sneered. “That wasn’t so difficult. Now go write that down in an official letter
to the headmaster, send a copy to the Board of Governors, the Ministry of Magic and the
Daily Prophet for all I care, and leave me out of your little spats with Dumbledore from now
on.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Harry really wanted to point out that Snape was Harry’s Head of
House and it was his fucking job to get involved with these things on Harry’s behalf, but
Harry wasn’t suicidal and Snape looked like he could really use a vacation at that point, so
Harry quickly left.
Now he had to go and fight with Dumbledore so he could have a vacation of his own. And
Harry knew one thing…there was nothing Dumbledore could say or do that would make
Harry stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, even if he had to sneak out of the castle to get away.

Dumbledore really could go fuck himself.

 Chapter 37
Chapter Summary

Harry's soulmate proposes a solution for Harry's latest problem, Harry enjoys the final
day before leaving the castle, only to find a surprise waiting for him at both King's Cross
station and at his holiday destination.

Chapter Notes

Yeah, yeah, I keep saying I won't be writing a new chapter immediately, but then I get
ideas and I feel like writing them, and then all of you get stuck with a new chapter again,
you poor souls. Isn't the life of a fanfic reader hard?

Anyway, since I have stuff to do the upcoming days this probably will be the last update
at least for a bit, so be patient, but more is on the way, as always.

I'm also very pleased at the reception Nagini's mention got in the recent chapter. When
JKR first came up with the whole Maledictus thing in the second Fantastic Beast movie,
I was not amused. Not because I don't like that idea, because I do, but because JKR
claimed she'd always planned it that way even when writing the books, but then didn't
think to mention it or even hint at it for seven frigging books? That is some seriously
bad writing, to only mention something huge like that (Nagini is, in essence, human is a
pretty big deal imho) in a second movie of a movie franchise you had no idea you'd be
writing fifteen years after finishing the books. So either JKR is a far worse writer than
we always knew or she's full of shit.

So for a while I really railed against the idea of Nagini as a Maledictus, until I realized
that in terms of fanfiction it might be an interesting thing to explore. So in this story,
we're going with Nagini the once human. In other stories, however, I might just stick
with Nagini is a snake, end of story. Whatever version best suits the plot, I suppose. I'm
not married to all this new canon (or any canon, for that matter. Long live AU).

Thanks so much for reading, as always, and for all your support and comments. They
keep inspiring me to write more and more.

Edited to add: people are asking to upload this story to other websites. Let me be clear:

DO NOT UPLOAD THIS STORY ELSEWHERE, EVER!

Do not put this story up on wattpad! I've just started uploading it there myself under
MaeglinYedi, just to keep the vultures at bay, holy fucking shit!
 How fucking difficult is it to understand to keep you greedy little fingers off other
people's hard work!

Chapter 37

Harry fumed as he stormed through Hogwarts’ halls. It was Thursday just after dinner, so he
couldn’t go to the Slytherin common room or dormitories, since they’d be crowded around
this time. He briefly considered the Club House, but that wasn’t a good idea either, since
some of the Culture Club members had taken to using it to socialize in the early evenings,
which was fine, Harry didn’t mind. He’d only asked that they keep the password to
themselves and not share it with anyone not a part of the Culture Club, which so far everyone
had done.

So Room of Requirement it was.

When pacing in front of the blank wall Harry asked for the room full of junk, so that he could
work off some steam by going through all the many piles of stuff to see what he could use or
sell.

But first things first. Harry slammed the door shut behind himself and asked the room to
gather all the chairs in one nearby corner. The room did so and at once chairs piled up out of
nowhere, only to tumble down again with much clattering. Harry selected a reasonably clean
and whole armchair with soft, blue fabric and levitated it to the side where he promptly threw
himself in it while he flipped open his mirror.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Tom asked the moment he answered his mirror. The background
betrayed that he was still in his hotel room in Rome and Harry recalled Tom had his final two
NEWTs the next day before being able to go home just in time for the start of Harry’s
holidays.

“Fucking Dumbledore,” Harry said with feeling while he gritted his teeth, brow furrowed in
his deepest frown. “Snape just told me the headmaster has decided that I’m to stay at
Hogwarts for the upcoming holidays.”

Tom gave Harry a severely unimpressed look, eyes glinting with defiance. “That is not up to
the headmaster to decide.”

“I know!” Harry turned in the chair, throwing both legs over one armrest while leaning his
head back and holding the mirror up over his face. “Snape said I should write him an official
letter and send it to the board and ministry and prophet and stuff.”

“Hm.” Tom briefly pursed his lips while glancing down, which Harry had come to recognize
as Tom’s plotting and planning face. “I think it would be better to do nothing. You don’t owe
him an explanation since he’s only the headmaster of your school. It’s not up to him to decide
where you spend time away from school since he’s not your legal guardian.”
Harry considered that for a second, briefly shutting his eyes. “Okay, but Dumbledore might
be able to pull something since Petunia didn’t exactly give me official permission to do what
I want for the holidays. I just tell everyone she did.”

“So we get her permission.” Tom held up a hand to ward off Harry’s obvious question of how
they were going to accomplish that. “I’ll write her a short letter and have Dobby deliver it to
her with a permission form for her to sign. You’ll be spending your holidays with the Notts,
so you’ll be under the constant supervision of an adult, and Theodore is a good friend of
yours so it makes sense to spend your holidays with his family.”

“So I’m not going to go back to the Dursleys and spend the nights there and just go where
ever I want during the day, like we had planned earlier,” Harry concluded. He wasn’t sure
how he felt about that, because he had hoped to spend most of his free time with Tom and
how would he be able to do that while stuck at the Notts.

“We were always going to spend Yule at the Notts, Harry,” Tom said in a reassuring tone,
perhaps reading some of Harry’s disappointment on his face. “I was merely keeping it a
secret to surprise you with it later. But with Dumbledore determined to keep you at
Hogwarts, it would be better for you not to spend time at the location the Order can easily get
to you. And we’ll still spend most of our time together, since I know for a fact Dorus has lots
of plans for socializing with his son, so you’ll have plenty of alone time.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Harry said while exhaling deeply in relief. “And I do like the idea of
staying at the Notts, I just also want to spend time with you.”

“I know, my dear,” Tom replied with an amused little smile. “So do nothing, say nothing,
Dobby will bring you the signed permission slip and Saturday you board the train with
everyone else and Dorus will be waiting for you and Theodore and take you to Nott Manor
with a portkey where I’ll be waiting.”

“Got it. Good plan.” Harry was immensely relieved he wouldn’t have to confront
Dumbledore in any way, shape or form before the holidays. He’d enjoyed his time at
Hogwarts over the last four months or so, but he was ready for some time away from the
castle. Strange how that feeling had changed since his first life. Back then, Harry dreaded
having to leave Hogwarts for the holidays, and now Harry wanted nothing more than to
leave, at least for a few weeks. Was this how normal kids felt, who had loving families
waiting for them at home? Harry supposed it must be, though in his first life he’d never really
experienced this feeling of anticipation before, not even when spending time at Grimmauld
Place or the Burrow for the holidays. Back then, Hogwarts had been home, but now, that was
slowly changing.

Harry knew he hadn’t found a place to call home yet, but he did know that he had a person
who represented that for him, and that of course was Tom.

“So just relax and before you know it you’ll be at Nott Manor and we’ll see each other
again.” Tom tilted his head from one side to the other and back, clearly trying to loosen some
muscles. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have yet to eat and I want to shower and spend some
time going over some notes for tomorrow.”
“Which NEWTs are you taking tomorrow?” Harry sat up in the chair, only a little
disappointed at having to cut their conversation short.

“Charms and arithmancy. And right after those I’m taking a portkey back.” Tom did look
slightly tired, his skin a little paler than usual and there were faint dark circles around his
eyes. Which was no surprise, since he’d been taking OWLs and NEWTs for ten days straight.
Even for a genius like Tom that had to be exhausting.

“Good luck,” Harry said and gave Tom his most sincere smile. “And thank you. I’m feeling
much better already.”

“Good. Should Dumbledore really try to resort to attempted kidnapping, which I doubt, then
ask for Dorus or Sybil Post. She’s officially your solicitor as well, even if you haven’t
personally met her yet.” Tom grinned at Harry while giving him a sly wink. “I’ll see you
Saturday. Goodbye, Harry.”

“Bye!” And with that Harry flipped the mirror shut and dropped back in the chair again,
releasing a deep breath while he stared up at the ceiling. He really was relieved this problem
had been tackled, for now at least. The past three weeks had shown Harry that having some
quiet time between all the exciting things happening in his life was really important and
necessary.

Glancing around the room, Harry decided he might as well sort through some more books
and other items. He hadn’t yet spent anymore time doing so since the first time. He’d been
busy with so many other things, both important and utterly mundane, that it had simply
slipped his mind.

“Kreacher!” Harry called as he got up with a small groan.

“Little Master be calling Kreacher?” At once, Kreacher offered Harry a bunch of homemade
Jaffa cakes in a tea towel and Harry accepted them with a huge smile.

“Thanks!” Harry stuffed one in his mouth immediately. Kreacher had made these for him
before and they were absolutely amazing. Harry chewed and swallowed while Kreacher
waited patiently. “Yeah, I called you to see if you want to help with sorting through some
stuff here. Help me scan items for curses and such.”

“Kreacher will help.”

“Awesome.” And with that, they went to work. Harry asked the room to place items from
different categories together so both he and Kreacher could cast detection charms on the piles
of stuff before Harry sorted through it. The last thing he wanted was to end up in the hospital
wing so soon before the holidays because he got careless and touched a cursed item. Harry
could remember Katie Bell’s scream perfectly that time she’d accidentally touched the cursed
necklace Malfoy had been trying to send to Dumbledore. Or Dumbledore’s blackened hand
from where he’d touched the Gaunt ring that Voldemort had cursed personally.

It was a miracle, really, that more wizards and witches weren’t absolutely paranoid about
every little thing they touched, seeing how easy it was to curse something and get it in front
of an enemy.

Harry found plenty of money bags and loose coins, not a fortune but still a nice bit of pocket
money, which he all piled into his own money bag. That would save him a trip to Gringotts
for the next few years.

There were lots of every day items Harry knew he might one day need, after finishing
Hogwarts, so he asked Kreacher to store them in Grimmauld Place’s attic for now. Sirius
wasn’t using the house, hadn’t even set foot in it since his release from the hospital according
to Kreacher, so Harry was confident no one would notice his secret stash of cauldrons and
candlesticks and bedpans and inkwells and much, much more. Once he got a place of his
own, Harry could go through it all and select what he wanted to keep before selling the rest.
He did the same with the nicest pieces of furniture, any recreational items he found like
Quidditch balls and chess sets and with clothes.

So many clothes.

Kreacher simply had to flick his fingers to transport it all to Grimmauld Place, much to
Harry’s relief.

Harry also took most of the broomsticks he found. Most, but not all. He left two functioning
ones in the room, because he still sometimes woke up covered in sweat with images of
roaring dragons and basilisks made of cursed flames bearing down on him fresh on his mind.
And this way, with the brooms still there, whoever might get caught in the room at one point
in the future surrounded by fiendfyre would have a way to escape.

Finally, there were the books. So many books. They had already placed the textbooks to the
side during Harry’s first expedition into the room, and now Kreacher made sure all those
were transported to Grimmauld Place while Harry sorted through the rest.

He was going to keep most of those books, he already knew, even titles that seemed boring or
useless. It would be nice to one day have a large library of his own, and this way he’d have
tons of books to stock it with.

While digging through the many books and setting aside interesting titles for himself, Harry
came across a few books he might give his friends for Yule.

To simplify things Harry had ordered a bunch of gift baskets from Honeydukes to be
delivered to his friends. At eleven or twelve, all of them still appreciated getting sweets and
chocolate as a gift, Harry was sure.

Still, the herbology diary he found from a turn of the century NEWT student would make a
nice extra little gift for Neville, as did the book on healing charms for Theo. Blaise would
appreciate some vintage Quidditch magazines, probably.

Finally, when Harry was done with the cursory selection of all the books and he told
Kreacher to get them all out of there, he glanced at his watch and realized it was almost
eleven and thus well after curfew.
Time to call it a night. While finishing the amazing Jaffa cakes, Harry strolled back to the
dungeons, hidden beneath his invisibility cloak.

The next day they only had potions in the morning with the afternoon free, and they’d
decided to have a sort of Christmas lunch with the Culture Club in the Club House, provided
by a few of their own house-elves, Kreacher included. That evening everyone would be busy
with last minute packing so they were having their meeting that afternoon instead.

The house-elves had outdone themselves and there was a varied buffet waiting for them in
the Club House, with many traditional Christmas food like turkey and gravy, roast potatoes
and Brussel sprouts, and pigs in blankets, mince pies and Christmas pudding. There was
pumpkin juice and hot chocolate to wash it all down with.

Harry had made it clear no one was expected to exchange gifts within the Culture Club. He
knew from personal experience how humiliating it could be if you were expected to give gifts
but couldn’t afford it during his primary school years, when Harry was always excluded from
any small gift exchanges between students because the Dursleys wouldn’t give him so much
as a pound to spend. And he knew that for plenty of their club members it would be
financially impossible to buy presents for twenty plus other students. But Harry had
suggested perhaps they could exchange cards, at which point some of the students had taken
it upon themselves to provide piles of craft items, all sent in from home, and they’d spent
their previous Culture Club meeting making Christmas and Yule cards which they exchanged
after their excellent lunch.

And as Harry was tucking away the small pile of cards he’d received in his trunk, Dobby
popped in briefly and handed him the signed permission slip in which Petunia gave Harry the
official go ahead to spend the holidays with Theo Nott and his family. Harry folded it
carefully and tucked it in his bag so he wouldn’t lose it, wondering if Tom had put a
compulsion charm on his letter to Petunia to get her to sign it without any problems.

The rest of the afternoon was spent packing and enjoying the farewell feast in the great hall.
After dinner the weekly house meeting in the common room transformed into a holiday
reception of sorts with butterbeer and lots of sweets and chocolates for everyone. Harry
chatted with his friends and even some of the member of the Quidditch team, which he knew
pretty well at that point.

By the time Harry went to bed that night he was utterly stuffed and convinced he didn’t need
to eat again for at least a week. Still, it had been a wonderful start of the holiday season, the
best Harry could remember ever having.

The next morning every student at Hogwarts woke up to find a book with a letter from the
Board of Governors on top of it. There were many loud exclamations of surprise and joy to
be heard all over the castle. A lot of wizard-raised students had heard from parents and other
family members that the Hogwarts book of rules and regulations was one of the most sought
after items at the school and to now be handed it as an early Yule gift was a very welcome
surprise indeed.

Harry and his friends enjoyed a quick breakfast, in which Harry gave nothing away about his
plans to just leave the castle with the other students, and yet that is exactly what he did.
Dumbledore wasn’t seated at the head table anyway, probably too busy trying to figure out
how on earth the Board of Governors got their hands on the book in the first place and how
they’d managed to get it delivered to each and every Hogwarts student right under
Dumbledore’s nose. The chaos Dumbledore must be experiencing at that moment was only
beneficial for Harry and his plan to simply walk out of the castle with everyone else.

They went down to the dungeons to pick up their cloaks and trunks, and as one group the
first-years made their way to the Hogwarts express, Harry tucked in the middle of the loudly
chatting group.

No one stopped him.

The carriage ride proved interesting in that Harry could see the thestrals, but he wasn’t the
only one.

“Freaky things,” Blaise muttered, side-eying the creatures with disdain as they boarded the
carriage.

Theo was also staring at them, until Harry gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow. “They’re
thestrals. They’re quite friendly, even if they look creepy as anything.”

“All right,” Theo said, but didn’t sound entirely convinced. He got into the carriage anyway.

Boarding the Hogwarts Express wasn’t a problem either, and Harry got a compartment with
his friends easily enough, even though it was a tight squeeze with ten of them but thankfully
they were all still fairly small so they made it work. The ride was spent with lots of
conversation, excited monologues about what everyone was planning to do during the
holidays, and games of exploding snap. Harry enjoyed it all immensely, since he hadn’t taken
the train back to London for the holidays more than once in his previous life. It was
something new, and of course it meant he’d be seeing Tom later that day.

No, trouble didn’t start until they made it to King’s Cross station in London. Harry got off the
train right after Theo, calling out goodbyes to his friends as everyone darted off to find their
families. The station was packed, and Harry had trouble keeping up with Theo.

“Potter!” Moody came clunking across the platform straight at Harry, Arthur Weasley
following him closely. “Come here!”

Harry booked it in the opposite direction and he was fast, too, since his trunk was
miniaturized and tucked in his pocket, and he’d sent Hedwig ahead so she wouldn’t be stuck
in a cage all day. “Help!” Harry yelled as loudly as he could while he ducked between
students and their parents until he saw a few familiar figures.

The Malfoys stood greeting Draco and Harry ran towards them at once. “Help, please, Draco,
these strange men are trying to hurt me!”

“What is this?” Lucius Malfoy said, whipping his wand out of his cane while reaching out an
arm, urging Harry to step closer to Narcissa.
“Potter!” Moody was surprisingly quick for someone with a prosthetic leg. “Get back here!”

“I have no idea who these men are,” Harry breathed, looking up at Narcissa with wide,
fearful eyes.

“Harry,” Dorus, with Theo in tow, had found him, thankfully. “Hello, Lucius. What’s going
on?”

“I was about to find out,” Lucius said, keeping his wand to the side as Moody and Arthur
reached them.

“Step away from the boy,” Moody snarled, his wand pointed straight at Lucius. Arthur
seemed a little more hesitant, looking from one person to the next but wand no where to be
seen.

“These men are trying to kidnap me! I don’t know who they are!” Harry said urgently to
Dorus, playing up his youth and vulnerability.

“Explain yourself,” Lucius demanded, not budging an inch even in the face of an enraged
Moody.

“Dumbledore’s orders,” Moody barked. “Now step aside or I’ll curse you, Malfoy, don’t
think I won’t.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Lucius said with the faintest of sneers.

“Can we just go?” Harry asked Dorus pleadingly. “Those strangers scare me.”

“Harry,” Arthur Weasley said with what he probably meant to be a kind smile but which
came out more as a grimace. He, at least, seemed to understand how awkward their situation
was. “Professor Dumbledore asked us to escort you back to Hogwarts. You’re to stay there
for the holidays.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said, voice filled with conviction. “Dumbledore is not my legal
guardian, so he has no say where I spend my holidays, and my aunt has given me permission
to spend it with Mr Nott and Theo.”

“You’re not staying with Death Eater scum, Potter,” Moody said with an enormous scowl.
“So stop your yapping and come here.”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Robards asked, with Shacklebolt by his side. They had
apparently been making enough of a scene to draw the attention of the Aurors that were
always stationed on the platform whenever the train arrived or departed with students aboard.

“Yes,” Harry said at once and pointed his finger at Moody and Arthur. “These two men are
trying to kidnap me. I don’t know who they are but they’re insisting I come with them
anyway while I’m supposed to go with Mr Nott here.”

“I’m an Auror, so you do as I say,” Moody growled.

“Not right now you’re not,” Robards said with a vicious little smile. “You’re still suspended
and under investigation.” It seemed Robards was still pissed at Moody for having been
dragged into that whole fiasco with Tom and the Wizengamot.

Shacklebolt was peering down at Harry. He wasn’t a member of the Order of the Phoenix yet,
Harry knew. In his previous life Dumbledore hadn’t recruited him until Voldemort had
returned after Harry’s fourth year, and in this life no one believed Dumbledore’s claims about
Voldemort having returned, except perhaps a handful of Order members. Even the article in
the Prophet that announced Dumbledore’s dismissal from the Wizengamot hadn’t mentioned
anything about Dumbledore’s claims that Voldemort had returned in the form of a young man
who liked finding lost treasure. Therefore, most people weren’t even aware of Dumbledore’s
claims, since he hadn’t made them publicly again after most of the Order urged him to find
evidence for Tom’s real identity first. As far as Harry knew, Dumbledore was still busy doing
just that.

“Harry, think about what you’re doing,” Arthur pleaded with wide eyes. “You Know Who is
back and you’re not safe with these people.” Apparently Arthur was one of those few people
that simply took Dumbledore’s word as truth without a shred of evidence.

“These people are my friends,” Harry said with his nose up in the air, as though he was
deeply insulted by Arthur’s words. “And you’re clearly insane.” Harry rummaged around in
his bag and pulled out the permission slip, handing it to Shacklebolt. “My aunt Petunia, who
is my legal guardian, has given me permission to stay with Mr Nott and Theo for the
holidays. Can I press charges against these two kidnappers?”

“Yes, you can.” Surprisingly, that was Augusta Longbottom who said that. She stepped closer
with Neville in tow, who was watching the whole scene unfold with a disbelieving look on
his face. “Arthur, can you really afford to lose your job over a kidnapping charge from Harry
Potter himself?”

Arthur ducked his head, cheeks colouring red, only now apparently realizing how badly this
would look for him at the ministry.

“Stay out of this,” Moody snarled, magical eye whizzing in its socket in sheer agitation.

“Enough,” Shacklebolt said, folding the permission slip and handing it back to Harry.
“You’re free to leave with your temporary guardian, Mr Potter. As for you, Moody, I suggest
you return to the ministry with us so you can explain to Amelia why you were trying to
kidnap Harry Potter.”

“Come,” Dorus said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Lucius, Narcissa, a pleasure as
always.”

Lucius returned Dorus’ nod while Narcissa offered him a polite little smile. “Theodorus,
we’ll see you for Yule, I’m sure.”

“Naturally.” And with that, Dorus led Harry and Theo away from the whole mess and
presented them with an old, rusty teakettle. Harry and Theo touched it without any prompting
and one violent pull later they stood in front of an old but well-kept Manor house surrounded
by elaborate gardens, which were rather bare at that time but Harry imagined that in the
summer they’d be truly beautiful.

“Welcome to Nott Manor,” Dorus said as he gestured the kids inside. “And it’s a pleasure to
meet you, Harry. Theo has mentioned you often in our correspondence. Call me Dorus.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Dorus,” Harry said, smiling up at the man, who looked a great
deal like a much older version of Theo, save that Theo’s features were a little more rounded,
not quite as sharp as Dorus’ face. “And thank you so much for having me for the holidays. I
really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Dorus wrapped his arm around Theo’s shoulders and pulled him a little
closer. “Nestor will take you to your guest suite now, Harry.”

“Now?” Theo asked, looking up at his father with a frown.

“Harry has a little something waiting for him in his room,” Dorus said with a very knowing
smile. “You can give him a tour later. For now, I want to spend some time with my only
child.”

Nestor the house-elf popped into the hallway right beside Harry. “Master Dorus’ guest be
following Nestor now.”

Harry did, trailing after the elf as they made their way up the wide staircase, his stomach
coiling with anticipation. Was Tom waiting for him in his room? Was that what Dorus was
getting at? Harry had no clue what else could be waiting for him.

“This is being your room for the duration of your stay,” Nestor said with a short bow as he
gestured to a blue door on the left of the wide hallway full of doors.

“Thank you,” Harry said politely and pushed the door open.

There, looking out the windows into the gardens, stood Tom, back turned towards the door.
Still ridiculously tall, and still ridiculously handsome once he turned to look over his
shoulder at Harry.

“Hi,” Harry said, a little breathlessly, as he closed the door behind himself.

“Hello, my dear,” Tom said with a warm smile as he stepped closer to Harry. “How was your
trip?”

Harry hesitated for a second. Should they hug again? Was that something they did now?
Harry had really liked that one hug they’d shared and he thought about it often, but Tom
didn’t take any initiative so Harry merely smiled back at him. “Splendid. I almost got
kidnapped by Moody and everything.”

“Do tell.” Tom gestured to a small seating area beside the fireplace with a sofa and two
armchairs and a coffee table holding a tea service. Through an open archway was the
bedroom with a huge, four poster bed and several dressers and wardrobes, and a door that led
to a opulent bathroom.
“Nice rooms,” Harry said as he glanced around while Tom served them both tea. Harry sat
across from Tom on the sofa, while Tom occupied one of the armchairs. “Anyway, I was able
to leave Hogwarts no problem, but apparently Dumbledore noticed my absence at some point
and he got Moody and Arthur Weasley to wait for me at the platform where they pretty much
tried to make me leave with them even though I don’t know who they are. Well, I’ve seen
Arthur Weasley once in the hospital wing, but we’ve never been introduced.”

“So what did you do?” Tom sipped his tea while raising his eyebrows in question as he
looked at Harry.

“Ran like hell and yelled for help. Found the Malfoys eventually, and Lucius kept Moody at
bay for a moment until Dorus found me. The platform was so full, it was hard to find anyone.
There was some yelling and then the Aurors got involved and they told me I was free to leave
so we went. No clue what happened to Moody or Arthur Weasley.”

Tom shook his head in obvious disdain for the whole situation. “I swear, that orchid-spiked
batch of tea ran out weeks ago. This is all Dumbledore’s own absurd plan.”

“Maybe he really is going senile,” Harry muttered before taking a few sips of his tea. Only
now did he notice a wrapped present, the size of a brick, sitting on the coffee table.

Tom noticed him staring and leaned over to pick up the gift, holding it out for Harry. “This is
your Yule gift, but you’re getting it early since it will benefit you immensely if you can use it
right away.”

“All right,” Harry whispered, accepting the package while his cheeks heated. Even now, after
having received plenty of gifts in his first life, Harry still felt weird about getting them, since
he’d spent years being denied any as a child. But receiving a gift from Tom, now that was a
few degrees more important than any gift he’d ever gotten from his friends, and Harry’s
whole body felt like it was about to go up in flames.

Harry carefully peeled back the silver paper, revealing a simple wooden box, and once he
flipped open the lid he saw at least ten potions vials inside, five with a dark blue potion and
five with a whitish one. Harry looked up at Tom in anticipation. “I don’t recognize these
potions. What are they?”

“You wouldn’t,” Tom said, smile turning utterly smug while he leaned back in his chair,
slowly crossing one leg over the other. “I created these especially for you. The blue one is an
aging potion. One vial will age you ten years. What is new about this potion compared to
standard aging potions is that once consumed, you’ll remain the older age until you take the
antidote, which is the white potion. You’ll de-age ten years when you take that.”

“That is bloody brilliant!” Harry looked from the potions to Tom’s satisfied smile and back a
few times. “That is…wow, I can be my own age! For the whole holidays!”

“That was the idea, yes. You won’t have to constantly take doses of potion this way. Once,
and you’re set for however long you wish to remain your true age.” Tom picked up his teacup
again and took a sip while giving Harry an almost challenging look. “There are adult-sized
clothes in the wardrobe, so you can go use the potion in the bathroom if you wish.”
“Yes! Thank you!” Harry jumped up at once, clutching the box close to his chest while Tom
chuckled at his enthusiasm.

There were indeed quite a few new clothes in adult sizes waiting for him, and Harry selected
simple black trousers and a white button-down shirt, with some briefs and socks to complete
the outfit. He quickly got undressed in the bathroom and picked up one of the blue vials.
Would the potion hurt? Would it feel like Polyjuice potion? Well, only one way to find out.
Harry uncorked the vial and swallowed the potion in one big gulp. It tasted slightly sour, but
not too strongly.

At once Harry felt his body grow and move and extend. He held onto the counter while his
entire centre of balance shifted. It was a strange feeling. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it wasn’t
entirely comfortable either, probably comparable to taking Polyjuice potion.

Harry was slightly out of breath as the process was finished and he slowly let go of the
counter and stood on trembling legs while he found his balance again. There was a full-sized
mirror to the right and Harry slowly stepped in front of it.

Holy cow, his dick was huge!

Mouth slowly falling open, Harry stared at his own cock in amazement. Had it always been
that big in his previous life? It must have been. Harry had just gotten used to having a tiny,
child-sized penis again over the last few months. But this was an adult version and Harry had
forgotten how big of a size that actually was.

Grinning like fool, Harry examined the rest of himself. He was pretty sure he was actually
taller now than he’d ever been before, and he wondered if that had to do with the nutrient
potions he’d taken over the summer, just as Tom had suggested that one time. But no matter
the reason, Harry was happy to see he was pretty tall. Not as tall as Tom, but then again few
people were, but still a decent size for a man.

His face, though. It had lost all its childish roundness and his jaw looked angular and his nose
much sharper than before.

All in all, Harry was pretty happy with what he was seeing. Until he realized that he’d have
to start shaving again, which was always such a hassle. That was one positive thing about
being a kid, Harry had found. No need to worry about facial hair just yet.

Still grinning, Harry got dressed in the new clothes and once back in the bedroom he went
looking for some shoes that would fit and he found a pair of simple, black leather ones in the
bottom of the wardrobe.

Tom, meanwhile, had risen from the sofa and was staring at Harry as though he’d never seen
him before.

“This is amazing,” Harry called as he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. “You
have no idea how much I’ve missed being a grown-up. It’s weird, though. I constantly feel
like I’m going to fall over when I’m walking.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Tom said in a voice that sounded much too quiet, and he quickly
cleared his throat.

“I love it. Best present ever.” Harry got up from the bed and walked towards Tom who was
standing under the archway, staring at him. “And I mean that. Thank you, Tom.” And before
he could second-guess himself, Harry did what he had wanted to do since finding Tom in his
room.

Harry stepped right up to Tom and wrapped his arms around Tom’s neck. Tom still had a
good six inches on him, but Harry easily made the hug work.

“We’re doing this now? I thought we weren’t,” Tom asked even as he wound his arms around
Harry’s waist and returned the embrace.

“Shut up,” Harry muttered against Tom’s shoulder. “We’re hugging, we just don’t have to
talk about it.”

“All right,” Tom sighed, the side of his face pressed against Harry’s head. “I think I’d
forgotten what you looked like all grown up.”

“Yeah, I won’t always be a tiny little shrimp.” Harry pulled his face away from Tom’s
shoulder but kept his arms firmly lodged around Tom’s neck, which put their faces close
enough that Harry felt Tom’s breath against his lips. For a moment they both froze as they
stared into each other’s eyes.

There was a short noise behind them, and at once they turned their heads to see what it was,
arms still wrapped tightly around the other.

Theo stood in the opened doorway staring at them with wide eyes, hand still holding onto the
doorknob. “What the hell?”
 Chapter 38
Chapter Summary

Harry's got some explaining to do, and enjoys a dinner and a show, while Kreacher is up
to his usual tricks.

Chapter Notes

I'll try to write a few more chapters for this story before rotating to another story again.
The fictional crop rotation system seems to be working well for now, so I'm taking
advantage of it as much as I can.

The ending to this chapter has been on my mind for a while now, and I'm happy to
finally put it in the story. I hope you all enjoy it.

Thanks so much for reading, and for all your comments and support. The response to
this story is simply unbelievable at times, but also inspires me to write more, so keep it
coming!

Chapter 38

“Er…” Harry stared at Theo, completely at a loss of what to say. In fact, he didn’t think he’d
ever been more at a loss of words in either of his lives as he was at that moment. Curiously,
though, Tom kept his arms casually wrapped around Harry’s waist as he stared at Theo,
expression utterly neutral.

“Theodore,” Dorus said with an exasperated sigh as he stepped up behind Theo. “I believe I
told you to give Harry some privacy before dinner.”

“Yeah, but…” Theo also seemed at an utter loss of what to say, though he seemed unable to
tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

“Come, there is a contract for you to sign in my office,” Dorus said, placing a steady hand on
Theo’s shoulder and gently pulling him backwards. “Everything else will be explained during
dinner.”

“Harry?” Theo asked, even as he stepped away from the door.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Harry finally found his voice, though he still wasn’t sure what to say because
anything sounded weird in his head. ‘It’s not what it looks like, Theo, don’t worry’ (What did
it look like, then, if Harry got the impulse to deny it?). ‘I’m actually an adult, Theo, don’t
worry’. Yeah, that needed much more explanation than just a few throwaway words, so
instead Harry shrugged and agreed with Dorus. “We’ll explain during dinner, promise.”

Still looking utterly baffled by this sudden turn of events, Theo looked down at his shoes and
finally shuffled away from the door.

“Dinner’s in twenty minutes,” Dorus called to them before the door fell shut.

“That was…” And even when alone with Tom, Harry still didn’t have the right words for
what had just happened.

“Let me guess,” Tom said, his smile one of utter satisfaction that he knew something Harry
didn’t. “You took the aging potion and didn’t even consider your young friend and his
reaction at seeing you as an adult.”

Licking his lips, Harry wanted to deny everything Tom just said, but found that he couldn’t
because when he took the aging potion he really, truly hadn’t considered that he’d have to tell
Theo something as an explanation. “Yeah, okay, you’re right, happy now?”

“Extraordinarily,” Tom said, the smug bastard. “Thankfully, I am not a Gryffindor and did
foresee these consequences and prepared a secrecy contract for young Theodore to sign.”

“That’s good,” Harry said, glad Tom wasn’t planning to obliviate Theo, or worse. “What are
we telling him?”

“The truth, or at least a small portion of it,” Tom said with a reassuring smile. Perhaps some
of Harry’s worry for his friend had shown on his face. “The contract will protect his mind
from people trying to steal information. Besides, Dorus assured me Theodore has received
tutoring in Occlumency since a young age.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod, only now realizing they still had their arms around each other
and it didn’t even feel that weird. In fact, it felt downright comfortable. “Theo practises his
Occlumency at least a few nights every week, he told me. He’s a diligent student in all other
subjects, so I believe him.”

“Then it won’t be a problem that he learns the most basic version of the truth,” Tom easily
agreed. “I do suggest we keep any and all details to ourselves.”

Harry nodded a few times. “He is only eleven.” Theo was one of those kids that seemed far
older than his actual age. Harry suspected it was because of the way Theo was brought up.
With his mother dying after his birth and his father also getting on in his years, Theo had
been treated as the heir to the family right from around the time he could talk, learning about
the estate and politics and everything else a young heir should know about, instead of letting
him be a child at least until he started Hogwarts. So while Theo was mature for his age, and
quite knowledgeable about the world in general, he really was still only a child, not an adult
in disguise like Harry was, and Harry realized he couldn’t dump all his adult trouble in
Theo’s lap and expect the kid to understand it all in any mature way.

With a small sigh, Tom finally released Harry, who immediately missed the warmth of his
body so close to his own. Seriously, this hugging thing was amazing, and Harry almost felt
insulted no one had ever taken the time before in his previous life to explain that to him, or
better yet, to show him. From there on out, Harry vowed to hug Tom as much as he could
without looking like a complete lunatic. Tom seemed to like the hugs, too, so Harry had good
hopes he could get away with quite a few of them during the holidays.

“We should head downstairs for dinner,” Tom said quietly, gesturing at Harry to precede him
to the door.

“I am actually starving,” Harry said while they made their way out the room and down the
stairs. “It’s weird they don’t provide a packed lunch for students travelling on the Hogwarts
express all day. The only decent thing approximating a meal on the trolley in the train is a
pumpkin pasty. Chocolate frogs, no matter how delicious, don’t keep you full all day.”

“It’s one of those things that could easily be rectified by the headmaster or the Board of
Governors.” Tom gestured to Harry to take a left when they reached the bottom of the grand
staircase. “Yet no one ever bothers, even though you’d expect students to complain about it at
home, at least.”

“We really should make a list of all those little things we want to change,” Harry said and
then he fell silent for a moment as they entered a spacious conservatory which was
elaborately decorated for Yule, with green garlands everywhere and magical candles
flickering throughout the space, their many flames reflecting on the glass all around, the
darkness outside adding to the cosy feeling inside. At the centre stood a round table, set with
five place settings. “Wow, this looks amazing.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Barty said from behind them, taking Harry completely by surprise.

“Barty! Good to see you.” Harry grinned at him.

“Good to see you, too. What are they feeding you at Hogwarts? Because you’ve grown a bit
since the summer.” Barty’s smirk was entirely self-satisfied at his own witty joke.

“Ha, ha,” Harry replied without a shred of humour. “This is Tom’s early Yule gift. I love it.”

“Now that we’re all here,” Dorus said, entering the conservatory with Theo in tow. “Here you
go.” Dorus handed Tom the signed contract, who inspected it briefly before folding it
carefully and tucking it into a pocket. “Let’s enjoy a festive meal on this Yule night, before
we partake in the ritual.”

Harry glanced at Tom with wide eyes while they sat down around the table, Tom on his right
and Theo on his left. “We’re doing the Yule ritual?”

“You actually thought we wouldn’t?” Tom asked, looking slightly disappointed in Harry’s
surprised reaction.
“Nah, not really. It just completely slipped my mind I now can perform these rituals during
the holidays.” Harry shrugged, though he felt a little bit embarrassed about admitting that in
his present company. “Before I only ever got the chance to celebrate Christmas, never Yule.”

“Well, that is about to change,” Dorus said and he flicked his fingers. At once plates of
creamy pumpkin soup appeared in front of them, with a warm roll on the side and little
platters of butter.

“Merlin, I’m starving,” Theo muttered, reaching for his roll and lathering it with butter. Harry
followed his example and before long everyone was enjoying the first course while small-talk
was had.

The second course was a large portabella mushroom stuffed with melted goat’s cheese and
drizzled with honey, which was a surprisingly tasty combination. Then followed the main
course of grilled goose stuffed with breadcrumbs, chestnuts and minced pork and various
herbs and spices, served with roast potatoes, braised red cabbage, carrots and parsnips and a
delicious red wine sauce.

It wasn’t until most of their plates were empty and all of their stomachs were quite full that
Theo turned towards Harry and gave him an expectant look.

“Ah, yeah,” Harry said with a sigh, placing his knife and fork on the edge of his plate before
dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “I’m guessing you’d like some answers.”

“I really would, if you don’t mind,” Theo said, while Tom, Barty and Dorus, who’d been
discussing how best to introduce any new law into the Wizengamot, all fell quiet to look at
them.

“This is going to sound quite unbelievable,” Harry felt the need to warn his friend. “But I
swear it’s all true. You can verify it all with Tom or your father later.”

“All right,” Theo said while gazing at Harry steadily. Harry was extra happy nothing much
ever seemed to faze Theo and he wasn’t prone to unnecessary dramatics.

“I’m technically eighteen years old,” Harry said to start with. “To make a very long story
short, I’ve already lived my life until I turned eighteen, when I was executed by the Ministry
for utterly ridiculous reasons conjured up by Dumbledore, after I’d done the dirty work and
gotten rid of Voldemort.”

Theo blinked, face slipping into a blank mask, obviously not having expected that sort of
explanation.

Harry carried on, knowing Theo would accept the truth sooner or later. “Anyway, through
some accidental circumstances I’d become the Master of Death, whatever the hell that even
means, since I’m still not sure, but in the afterlife Death told me I could go back because of
that and do my life over if I wanted to. And since I’d been utterly betrayed and realized I’d
been a puppet in Dumbledore the manipulator’s hands my entire life I really wanted to do my
life over and do it better this time.”
“That is…you were Dumbledore’s puppet?” Theo asked quietly, in a slightly disbelieving
tone.

“Yep, sorted into Gryffindor and everything, because I never saw all the manipulations
Dumbledore pulled around me coming, unfortunately. Anyway, Death was willing to send me
back to the moment I received my Hogwarts letter, but there was only one catch.” Harry
paused for a moment and then gestured a hand towards Tom. “If I got to go back and keep
my memories, then so would Tom.”

Theo frowned. “Why would Thomas Gaunt keep his…” Harry was sure he’d never before
seen someone pale as fast as Theo did at that moment as he looked at Tom with wide eyes.

“Yep, that’s the Dark Lord,” Harry said, utterly entertained by Theo’s dramatic reaction to
that realization. Beside him, Tom snorted and shook his head at Harry’s antics. “Or rather, the
former Dark Lord. Turns out, good old Voldemort had performed a few rituals without
thoroughly researching them beforehand, which had turned him utterly insane. Through the
process of going back in time, Death was able to undo that damage, and Tom was once again
sane and no longer set on destroying the world and killing people for shits and giggles.”

Theo very slowly turned in his seat and looked at his father, obviously seeking some
guidance in how to react to all those revelations.

“I can confirm that is indeed Tom Riddle, my old classmate, who unfortunately did become
insane later in his life,” Dorus said matter-of-factly. “I can also confirm that Tom is much
improved and no longer wishes to be a Dark Lord. Any changes he’s planning to make to the
wizarding world will be made legitimately.”

“And that’s about it,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair while giving Theo a curious look.
“Any questions.”

Theo blinked and a slight frown tugged on his brows as he stared straight ahead. Finally, he
said, as he glanced at Harry, “Why on earth are you attending Hogwarts again as an eleven-
year-old when you’re already an adult?”

“Excellent question,” Tom muttered on Harry’s other side.

Harry wisely ignored him, though he desperately wanted to kick Tom’s shin under the table,
or do something equally childish in retaliation. “Because in my first life my Hogwarts
experience was utterly controlled by Dumbledore, in hindsight, and I never got to just be a
kid learning magic.” Harry swallowed, realizing that might sound a bit pathetic, now that he
considered it, so he quickly added, “I’m not sure how long I’ll stay at Hogwarts, since Tom
has developed an aging potion that keeps me aged up indefinitely if I want it to, and I can
take my OWLs and NEWTs at the ICW in Rome at any time.”

Theo nodded thoughtfully. “And attending Hogwarts for a few years is an excellent way to
make allies in the younger generations”

Harry nodded while he smiled at Theo. “Yep, hence the wide variety of friends, and the
Culture Club, and I plan to start a Defence Club in a few years. In my first life I was a
Gryffindor with two close Gryffindor friends and that was pretty much it. I barely talked to
kids from different Houses.”

Theo narrowed his eyes for a second. “Weasley and Granger,” he guessed, much to Harry’s
obvious astonishment. Theo shrugged, though a sly smile appeared on his face. “They are the
only two students in our year that you genuinely seem to dislike, but that now makes sense if
they betrayed you in your previous life.”

Harry was deeply impressed Theo had worked that out so quickly. Then again, Theo was
quite intelligent and knew how to observe the people around him. “Yeah, the ministry got to
them and they testified against me during my farce of a trial. Before that they’d been great
friends, but that all went out the window because Dumbledore’s manipulations reached that
far even from beyond his grave. So I will never trust them again, simple as that.”

“Understandably,” Theo agreed solemnly. “This does explain why you’re top of every class.
You’ve learned it all before.” Theo quirked an eyebrow at Harry. “Unless you were a genius
in your first life?”

Tom snorted beside Harry and quickly raised his wineglass and took a long sip to masque his
reaction.

Harry decided to be the better man and ignore him. “Yeah, no, not a genius by any stretch of
the imagination. In my first life I was a slightly better than average student, I guess. My best
subject was Defence, I did great in that. But I also failed a few classes, like history and
divination, because I couldn’t care less about them.”

“You took divination? I’ve heard it’s an utter waste of time,” Theo said curiously and took
the final bite of potatoes before placing his cutlery sideways on his plate, indicating he was
done.

“It is an utter waste of time. Unfortunately, in my first life I wasn’t a very disciplined student,
and I followed along with Ron when it came to picking electives, and Ron went for what he
thought were the easy O’s. Utter nonsense, as it turned out. I got a poor in divination and an
exceeds expectations in care of magical creatures.”

Theo looked a little disbelieving at Harry receiving a poor in anything. “So what electives
will you take in your third year this time?”

“Definitely runes and arithmancy, and I might throw care of magical creatures in there
because I did enjoy those classes and it breaks up the day nicely, to be able to spend an hour
or two outside dealing with all sorts of magical animals.”

“I was considering those classes myself,” Theo said quietly, just as Dorus clapped his hands
to get everyone’s attention.

“I do believe Theo has been thoroughly informed on Harry’s unique circumstances, so I

suggest we now partake in the final course before going outside for the ritual.”
The dinner plates and dishes disappeared, quickly replaced with plates featuring portions of
various traditional Yule desserts. A small bowl with trifle, a small slice of a chocolate Yule
log, and of Christmas cake, and a small mince pie.

Harry ate all of it, and by the end he felt pleasantly stuffed. He washed it down with the
pumpkin juice he’d been drinking all evening. Dorus had offered him wine, but Harry hadn’t
ever had much alcohol before and he wanted to be sober for the Yule ritual, so he’d declined.

“Please, those of you who wish to join, be welcome in our circle,” Dorus said as they all
stood up at the end of the meal and stepped out into the garden through the conservatory
doors.

Torches burned all around the garden as Dorus led them to the lawn right below the terrace.
A large ritual circle had already been prepared and five small crates stood to the side, with a
pile of evergreen branches beside them. Harry could hear soft clucking coming from the
crates so he reasoned these were chickens and would be their sacrifices for that evening.

At the centre of the circle stood a sizeable Yule log. Dorus entered the circle and stood beside
it. “Be welcome, dearest family and friends, to this Yule ritual where we ward of the darkness
and protect our souls. Please, take your places. Tom, as the representative of water, you take
west. Harry, as fire, take south, Barty, as air, take east and Theo, as earth, take north.” As they
all took their indicated places, Dorus swished his wand around and each of them received a
crated chicken and a few evergreen branches.

“I now light the Yule log to ward off the darkness,” Dorus said, and with another swish of his
wand, flames erupted within the log until it burned steadily with a gentle crackle, the runes
that had been carved in the sides of the log lighting up with a soft glow of magic. “On this
longest night, may these flames light our way to a new dawn. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” Harry and everyone else repeated.

“Spread the branches before you and hold your chickens over them. A simple severing charm
at their necks will allow you to sprinkle their blood across the branches.” Dorus demonstrated
this by grabbing his own chicken by its feet with one hand while casting the charm with his
other one.

Harry managed to hold onto his chicken, which was flapping her wings frantically, and
quickly ended its life and moved the bleeding body over the branches, coating them in dark
drops of blood.

“Repeat after me,” Dorus said. “With this life I have taken and this blood I have spilled, let
this sacrifice protect me, body and soul. Let these branches keep the dark at bay until my soul
finds light again. So mote it be.”

Harry said the words carefully while his chicken bled out and stopped flapping her wings. A
strange feeling came over him, something warm and soothing. It was the magic of the ritual
circle and it felt comfortable because this was a ritual of protection, meant to keep you and
your loved ones safe. Why on earth the ministry had thought it necessary to banish it was
truly a mystery to Harry. Was it because of the sacrifice? A chicken was killed, sure, but
chickens got killed all the time for food and the carcasses of these birds would be used for
tomorrow’s dinner, as was not only tradition but also part of the ritual. Honestly, the ministry
really had gone too far with their prosecution of all these rituals and Harry understood why
certain factions were genuinely pissed off about that.

“Now, one by one, we make an offering of one branch.” Dorus placed one blood-covered
branch on the burning Yule log. “Magic, accept this offering and keep your child safe in these
dark times until the light returns. So mote it be.”

One by one, they repeated what Dorus had done and said, and when Harry threw his branch
on the burning log and said the words, the warm, soothing feeling intensified significantly.
Glancing around, he noticed everyone had peaceful expressions on their faces so Harry
gathered they must be feeling the same.

“Thank you, friends and family, for sharing this ritual on this winter solstice,” Dorus said
after he picked up his remaining branches. “Before going to bed, fix these branches on your
bedroom window and you will be protected for the remainder of winter.”

Still utterly wrapped up in that peaceful sensation, everyone entered the conservatory again
and made their way to their bedrooms. Harry called out a quiet goodnight, and got equally
quiet replies from everyone else. Inside his rooms, Harry made a beeline for the bedroom
window and arranged the branches around them with a few sticking charms and the pleasant
feeling inside of him settled down to the point that he no longer felt like he was floating but
just felt very at ease with the world.

Turning around, Harry let out a surprised shriek. “Kreacher!”

“Little Master is doing Yule ritual. This is making Kreacher happy.” The old elf did indeed
look very pleased.

“Yeah, that ritual was really nice,” Harry said, inhaling a deep breath as his heartrate returned
to normal. “What brings you here.”

“No-good Master is saying Kreacher should be Little Master’s house-elf,” Kreacher said with
a pointed look at Harry.

Harry blinked for a moment in genuine surprise. “Really? Sirius is giving you to me? Is that
what you want as well, Kreacher? Because I’m all for it.”

Kreacher nodded vigorously. “Kreacher is wanting to be Little Master’s house-elf very much.
Little Master must be saying ritual words.”

“What ritual words? I’ve never done this before,” Harry said, suddenly worried he might not
be able to accept Sirius’ generous gift and give Kreacher what he wanted.

“Little Master is saying he declares Kreacher his house-elf, and Little Master is meaning the
words,” Kreacher explained carefully with an expectant look.
“Okay.” Harry stood a little straighter and stared at Kreacher with narrowed eyes. Magic was
all about intent, and Harry focused with all his might on his intention to make Kreacher his
elf. “Kreacher, I declare you are my house-elf from now on.”

A warm burst of magic coursed through Harry and he gasped in surprise. “It worked. Right?”

Kreacher’s grin was enormous. “Yes, Kreacher is now being Little Master’s elf. No-good
former master is telling Kreacher to give this to Little Master.” And Kreacher held out a letter
and a very familiar looking hand-mirror.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Harry folded open the short letter and read it quietly.

‘Harry,

Dumbledore said that you’ve gone to stay with the Notts. You have to leave there
immediately, Harry! It isn’t safe there for you. Dumbledore explained he believes Voldemort
is back and Nott Senior is one of Voldemort’s most loyal supporters. The mirror is a
communication mirror. Say my name and I’ll answer and we’ll figure out a way to get you
out of there immediately.’

Sighing, Harry rubbed a hand across his face. Now this. Harry had truly hoped that sowing
seeds of distrust towards Dumbledore would cure Sirius of blindly following along with
anything Dumbledore said, but apparently that had been a fool’s hope. Still, Harry knew he
better set this straight right away, because Sirius definitely was the impulsive type and Harry
wouldn’t put it past him to literally storm the gates of Nott Manor to save his godson from
some imagined threat.

Harry held up the mirror and said, “Sirius Black.”

It only took seconds before Sirius’s worried face appeared in the mirror. “Harry! Wait, who
the hell are you? Harry?”

Fuck.

Buggering fucking fuck.

Harry completely forgot he still looked like an adult. Thinking very quickly, Harry shrugged
and said, “Relax, Sirius. It’s just a prank. Theo gave me some sweets laced with an aging
potion. It’s weird being this big, though. I keep falling over when I walk, but it should wear
off soon.”

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius said with a relieved sigh, and then called over his shoulder, “Remus,
floo Dumbledore. Tell him I found Harry and I’m getting him out of there.”

“Wait, what?” Harry demanded, frowning at Sirius in annoyance while inwardly he was
absolutely fucking fuming. “No, I’m not leaving!”

“Harry, listen,” Sirius said, voice taking on a panicked edge again, eyes unnaturally wide.
“You have to leave, now. Go to the floo and shout out Black Manor, you’ll land right here.”
“No,” Harry said, but Sirius rambled right over him before Harry could say more.

“Dumbledore explained that Voldemort is back and masquerading as a bloke called Thomas
Gaunt.”

Harry snorted as obnoxiously as possible. “Really? Thomas Gaunt is Voldemort? And he’s
going to kill me?”

“Yes!” Sirius released a shuddering breath. “You have to leave there at once, Harry, please.”

“If Thomas Gaunt is Voldemort and wants to kill me,” Harry said while giving Sirius a flat
look. “Then explain to me how I just spent a few hours enjoying an excellent Yule dinner
sitting right next to the man and the only thing that happened was polite and interesting
conversation. In fact, he’s currently in the bedroom beside mine, and there have been no
murder attempts whatsoever.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times, doing an excellent impression of a stranded
fish. “What? How? What?” Then he closed his mouth, swallowed and licked his lips.
“Dumbledore insisted Thomas Gaunt was Voldemort reborn.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that Dumbledore is wrong?” Harry asked him while raising both
eyebrows and giving Sirius a challenging look. “Augusta Longbottom, Neville’s gran, told
him all about that farce of a Wizengamot meeting Dumbledore held only a few days after
your trial in which he publicly accused Thomas of being Voldemort without a shred of
evidence, costing him his position as Chief Warlock. Did Dumbledore inform you of this as
well, or did you miss that completely because you were still in St Mungo’s at the time.”

Sirius briefly looked down and shook his head once or twice. “No, Dumbledore didn’t
mention that to us. Just that you were in danger and needed to return to Hogwarts at once.”

“Dumbledore has no say where I spend my holidays,” Harry said, getting thoroughly sick of
repeating that phrase time and again to everyone Dumbledore sent after him. “My aunt
Petunia, who is my legal guardian has given me permission to spend the holidays with the
Notts, who have been very gracious hosts so far.”

“But…” Sirius seemed genuinely at a loss for words for a few moments, before he decided to
just repeat old accusations. “But Nott Senior is a Death Eater, Harry, so you really aren’t safe
there.”

“Everyone knows I’m spending Yule here, Sirius. If something happens to me, the whole
Auror department will come bearing down on Nott Manor. Do you truly believe Theodorus
Nott to be that stupid?” Harry snorted and shook his head. “This is your own prejudice
talking.”

“Harry, please.”

“No, I’m staying here,” Harry said, putting every ounce of resolve he had in his voice. “And
neither you nor Dumbledore have any say in that. End of story.”
Sirius sighed and looked utterly resigned. “Fine. Just promise me, Harry, that if something
happens you call me at once, or just floo to Black Manor.”

“Sure, if there’s any trouble you’ll be the first to hear it.” Harry perked up a little, happy the
annoying stuff was over with. “By the way, thanks for your Yule gift. I know Kreacher will
be much happier as my elf and I’m happy to have him.”

Sirius blinked and opened and closed his mouth again a few times. It really was a comical
look for him, Harry decided. “What? Kreacher?”

“Yes,” Harry said slowly, confused why Sirius wouldn’t even remember gifting his house-elf
to Harry. “You gave Kreacher to me for Yule.”

“No, I didn’t.” Sirius looked utterly confused, so Harry believed him, that he truly hadn’t
meant to do it. Still, the magic had worked, so Sirius must have said something that Kreacher
could interpret as an order. As Harry remembered from his first life, Sirius was really bad at
giving exact orders, and Kreacher was really good at interpreting them to his own advantage,
so honestly, Harry wasn’t that surprised something unexpected had occurred concerning
Sirius and his former elf.

“Well, Kreacher told me you’d said he should be my elf and I accepted that,” Harry said with
a shrug, truly not caring that much since he was happy to have Kreacher as his elf.

“That fucking… sorry, Harry. That bloody elf,” Sirius said with a growl while shaking his
head with a huge, angry frown on his face. “That’s not what I meant. Kreacher was
complaining about me, again, and singing your praises, and I said that he should have been
your elf, then, but that he wasn’t so tough luck for him.”

Harry pursed his lips tightly so he wouldn’t cackle at Kreacher’s absolute cleverness. “But
you did say, technically, that he should have been my elf. And Kreacher’s magic took it as
such once I said the ritual words, because Kreacher bonded to me at once. He’s my elf now
and your bond is broken.”

Glancing to the side, Harry realized Kreacher was still standing in the corner, wearing the
biggest, smuggest smirk Harry had ever seen on a house-elf. Unable to control himself any
longer, Harry fell backwards onto the bed and howled with laughter.
 Chapter 39
Chapter Summary

Harry sets Sirius straight on a few things, is almost buried beneath gifts, has a much-
needed talk with Theo and goes on an adventure with Tom, which leads to a shocking
revelation.

Chapter Notes

To my American readers, on this election day, I offer my new chapter as a humble

distraction from all the madness going on in your country right now. May reason and
acceptance and love prevail in the end. Godspeed, USA.

To everyone else, here's another chapter with a cute little cliffhanger that's not really a
cliffhanger, just a nice little tease. I'll try to get the next chapter out this week as well.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and for your amazing support which
continues to fill me with happiness.

Chapter 39

“It’s not that funny,” Sirius said with an obvious pout in his voice, while Harry took his time
getting his laughter under control. “I need him back, Harry. You have to release him back to
me.”

That sobered Harry right up and he sat upright at once, blinking at Sirius while inhaling a few
deep breaths to regain control of his emotions. “Why? You hate him and he hates you. I think
for everyone’s sake it’s a better idea to just let Kreacher be my elf.”

“Yeah, we don’t get along,” Sirius agreed with a quick nod. “But at Black Manor I only have
Vivi, an ancient elf who was already getting on in her years when my grandfather was born,
and I need Kreacher at Grimmauld Place, especially now that Dumbledore is going to use it.”

Any hilarity Harry had felt previously was washed away as though someone had just dumped
a bucket of ice-water over his head. For a brief moment Harry seriously wondered if he’d
fallen asleep at some point that evening and this was all just a nightmare. “Wait…why is
Dumbledore suddenly using Grimmauld Place?”
Sirius looked vaguely apologetic. “The Order of the Phoenix needed headquarters now that
Voldemort is back, and Dumbledore asked to use Grimmauld Place earlier this evening when
he informed us you’d disappeared.”

Harry sighed, and then sighed again, even deeper. “Sirius, listen very carefully,” Harry said,
narrowing his eyes as he glared at his godfather through the mirror. “I never disappeared, I
went to my holiday destination as approved by my legal guardian. Voldemort hasn’t returned,
because Thomas Gaunt isn’t Voldemort, plain and simple. And Dumbledore is the person
who saw you sentenced to Azkaban for life without a trial, so why on earth are you even
talking to that man?”

Sirius swallowed and looked away briefly. “I wasn’t planning on talking to him ever again,
but he floo-called and said you were in trouble and –”

“HE LIED!” Harry bellowed, so fucking fed up with Sirius’ inability to think for himself for
one fucking second, and even after everything Dumbledore had put his godfather through,
still believing a word that old goat said.

Sirius blinked at Harry’s suddenly loud response. “Yeah, all right, I get that now.”

“So what you should do now is write Dumbledore a very polite note in which you take back
your offer of giving him Grimmauld Place and telling him you want nothing to do with him
ever again,” Harry said with a very strained smile that hurt his entire face. “As you should
have done from the beginning, for Merlin’s sake, Sirius.”

“But Voldemort –”

“Is gone!” Harry leaned forward, glaring at the mirror again. “Please just get that through
your head, that Dumbledore is manipulating you and everyone else who will listen with the
idea of Voldemort returning while there is no evidence to say that he actually has.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes while Lupin hovered in the background. “But how can you be sure
of that, Harry?” Lupin asked, leaning over Sirius’ shoulder to join the conversation.

“Oh for…” Harry jumped up and with the mirror in his hand marched out of his bedroom and
down the hall to the next door. “Thomas, open up.” Harry banged on the door while Sirius
sputtered something in the mirror. “Oh, man who is Voldemort according to my imbecile
godfather and his bestest friend, open the door, but please be decent.” Harry added that last
bit because he well remembered his own response when he’d seen Tom naked and wet and he
didn’t want a repeat of that in front of his godfather.

The door opened to reveal Tom tightening the belt on a dark-blue dressing gown, which
covered a pair of striped grey pyjamas. “How can I help you, Harry, on this fine Yule night?”

Harry all but shoved the mirror in Tom’s face, obviously surprising a gasping and grumbling
Sirius and Lupin with his dramatic actions. “Please meet my idiot godfather and his yes-
man.” Harry pulled the mirror back around so he could grin at Sirius and Lupin. “Marauders,
please meet Lord Voldemort, at least according to Dumbledore, who is going to murder me in
my sleep, probably, right, Tom?”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Tom said in a deadpan sort of voice while he gave Harry a very
unimpressed look. “But if you keep waking me up while I’m trying to sleep, I might just give
it a go.”

Harry gave both men in the mirror a triumphant look. “See? Does that look and sound like a
Dark Lord set on killing me and everyone else?”

Lupin’s cheeks were coloured a rosy red, obviously feeling a little embarrassed he’d accused
a complete stranger of being Voldemort so directly without any real evidence. “We do
apologize, Mr Gaunt.”

“Yeah, all right, that doesn’t seem to be Voldemort,” Sirius finally conceded as Harry moved
the mirror so both he and Tom could look into it.

“Thank you for finally seeing reason,” Harry said with an exaggerated smile. “And now that
you’ve seen for yourself that Dumbledore is a big, fat liar, will you please understand that the
old man doesn’t have my best interest at heart, or yours for that matter?” Harry gestured
wildly with his hands, mirror swinging this way and that. “For Merlin’s sake, he tried to have
me kidnapped at King’s Cross just this afternoon for no reason at all, except that he thinks he
can control my every move.”

“Wait, what?” Sirius sat up a little, giving Harry an intent look. “He didn’t say anything about
that when he contacted us.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Harry rolled his eyes at the absolute absurdity of this current situation.
“Some men named Moody and Arthur Weasley, who I’ve never met before in my life, tried to
grab me on the train station. I had to run for my life and eventually involve the Aurors to
keep me from being taken against my will. Moody literally said he was acting on
Dumbledore’s orders while ignoring the written permission form my legal guardian had
signed to officially agree with my holiday destination.”

“We truly weren’t aware of that, Harry,” Lupin said with a small, apologetic smile, his eyes
kind. “We’re very sorry we listened to Dumbledore instead of verifying the situation with you
first, especially in light of how much Dumbledore has hurt Sirius in the past.”

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “But please, just don’t listen to Dumbledore from now on,
without double-checking everything he tells you, because it’s obvious the man is not above
lying to get what he wants.”

“We promise,” Sirius said with a solemn nod. “Keep the mirror close, Harry, so we can get in
touch quickly should something like this ever happen again.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Harry agreed with a relieved smile, glad the situation had been
salvaged and his relationship with his godfather was still intact.

“Well, I’m glad to hear everything seems to be resolved,” Tom said with an amused little curl
of his lips as he looked between Harry and the mirror. “Gentlemen, Harry, I bid you
goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Lord Voldemort,” Harry called, just because he could. Tom rolled his eyes and
slammed the door shut in Harry’s face. In the mirror, Sirius snickered at Harry’s antics, which
Harry counted as a win.

“Anyway,” Harry said as he strolled back to his own rooms. “About Kreacher. I’m keeping
him, because I really do think that’s better for everyone. But if you promise to not give
Grimmauld Place to Dumbledore, ever, I’ll tell Kreacher to stay there and keep it in good
condition.” Harry really, really wanted to keep Kreacher having access to Grimmauld Place
for the amazing library and because he had half the contents of the Room of Requirement
hidden in the attic. He did not want to think about Dumbledore, or Merlin forbid, Molly
Weasley, getting their mittens on his secret stash full of dark magic.

“Yeah, all right,” Sirius sighed as Harry closed his bedroom door and sank down on the
couch in his little sitting room. “Just order him to keep the place clean and in good repairs.”

“I will, promise.” Harry quickly placed his hand over his mouth because he couldn’t hold
back an enormous yawn.

“Ah, I’m keeping you up,” Sirius said, looking tired himself, dark circles lining his eyes.
“Get some sleep, Harry. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Good night,” Harry said honestly. He was looking forwards to
spending some time with Sirius. This recent bit of drama proved Harry needed to spend some
time with his godfather to make sure the man got his head removed entirely from
Dumbledore’s arse and didn’t put it right back in the first time Dumbledore lied about Harry
being in trouble. Sirius wished him a good night and cancelled the mirror call. Harry placed
the mirror in the drawer of the bedside table and went to get changed into some adult-sized
pyjamas he’d spotted earlier in one of the dressers.

“Kreacher!” Harry called as he pulled his shoes off. The old elf popped into the room at once,
still looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. Harry stopped undressing for a moment to
stare down at his brand-new elf. “Kreacher, that was so well played. I am proud of you.”

“Little Master is being too kind to Kreacher.”

“I talked to Sirius,” Harry said, unbuttoning his shirt. “And we’ve agreed you can stay at
Grimmauld Place for the foreseeable future as long as you keep the place clean and in good
repairs, as you’ve been doing already.”

“Kreacher will return to Kreacher’s old home and do as the little Master says,” Kreacher said
with a deep nod of his head, seemingly happy enough with these new orders.

“Good. Thanks. Also, if anyone shows up at Grimmauld Place, aside from Sirius himself, I
want you to let me knew immediately, all right?” Harry shucked his shirt and trousers and
pulled on his pyjamas.

“Kreacher will.” And with that, Kreacher popped out of the room.
Harry remembered at the last moment that he had presents to give to everyone in the
morning, and he dug them out of his trunk and placed them on the dresser in his bedroom so
he wouldn’t forget to take them down for breakfast.

Exhausted by the day’s many exciting events, Harry crawled under the covers and was asleep
in minutes. Almost immediately, Harry found himself in a cocoon of warmth that was Tom’s
soul. It was a strange idea, that they were sleeping so close together physically for the first
time, only a wall separating them. Their souls, though, were always connected and Harry
basked against Tom for the whole night. They meant to test their connection every once in a
while, but they never got to it since sharing their souls during their sleep simply felt too good
to mess with for the time being. Harry figured they’d get to it eventually.

Harry woke up to a surprise the following morning. At the foot of his bed was an enormous
pile of colourfully wrapped presents. And the presents Harry had placed on his dresser the
previous night to give out had disappeared.

The Nott house-elves must have distributed the gifts at some point during the night. It might
be a Nott family tradition, perhaps left-over from some Nott ancestor enjoying the practise of
receiving gifts on your bed from their days at Hogwarts, or it might be an actual Yule
tradition. Harry wasn’t sure, but he made a mental note to find out.

The pile of presents was the biggest one Harry had received yet, in both lives, and it filled
Harry with warmth that he had so many friends. Then he remembered that there was a good
chance not all these gifts were from friends, but also from complete strangers since there
were no more mail wards to keep him from receiving everything anyone sent him.

With a sigh, Harry pulled out his wand from under his pillow and cast every detection charm
he knew on the first gift within reach. It came back clear and the tag said it was from Neville.
With a smile, Harry ripped open the paper to discover a book on wizarding traditions from all
over Europe. Now that was a book Harry was eager to read and he tucked the tag with
Neville’s name inside the pages so he wouldn’t forget to write his friend a thank you note for
this very thoughtful gift. From most of his other friends Harry received all sorts of sweets and
treats, which he was happy about. Any candy from strangers Harry discarded on the floor, not
wanting to risk ending up poisoned or love-potioned to the gills.

Then he came across a package from Tom, which was a surprise since Harry thought the
aging potion had been his Yule gift, but apparently Tom had gotten him two gifts. Which
made Harry feel better about getting Tom two gifts as well.

Tom got him a book about using runes as part of defensive magic, which seemed like such an
interesting topic Harry was genuinely tempted to read that book there and then, but he
resisted that urge, if only just. Daphne also got him a runes book, except it was about the use
of runes in rituals, and now Harry had another book he immediately wanted to read.

By the time the end of the pile of presents came in sight, Harry had more books of
completely random subjects than he knew what to do with, all from complete strangers. He
also had an instant collection of plush animals in all shapes and sizes, and dozens of Yule and
Christmas cards.
Barty had gotten him a subscription on Quidditch Weekly, which Harry was very excited
about, and Theo had gotten him a very nice black wool scarf with matching leather gloves.
Harry remembered complaining to Theo a few weeks ago that he’d forgotten to buy winter
gloves for himself that past summer, so it was a thoughtful gift. The gloves were kid-sized,
though, so Harry had to wait until he was back at Hogwarts to wear them. From Dorus he got
two tickets for any Quidditch game in the next year, which Harry thought he might use
during the spring holidays and take Theo along.

Blaise had gotten Harry a large assortment of Italian biscuits in a Yule-themed container,
which Harry looked forward to sampling.

There was a knock on Harry’s door. “Come in!” Harry yelled as he unwrapped yet another
book from a complete stranger, this one on raising kneazles.

Tom walked into Harry’s bedroom, already dressed in nice, open robes with a black shirt and
trousers under it.

For a few long moments, Harry stared at Tom, breath caught somewhere in his throat, and by
the time his mind had rebooted enough that he could think of something to say, Tom was
sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Tom whispered against the side of Harry’s head, arms wrapped around Harry’s
torso.

Delighted that Tom had actually initiated a hug, Harry leaned into him with all his weight.
“You’re welcome,” Harry mumbled against Tom’s shoulder, covertly inhaling Tom’s scent,
which was accentuated by the spicy cologne Tom had apparently only just applied. “I’m
assuming this is about the locket?”

Tom backed up a little to grin at Harry, while reaching inside his shirt and pulling out
Slytherin’s locket. “Yes, of course it is. Though I do also appreciate that very interesting diary
you gave me, I am genuinely happy to have this in my possession again.”

Shrugging a little awkwardly, Harry ducked his head, cheeks heating. “It was always yours. I
should have returned it sooner.”

“No,” Tom insisted at once with a small shake of his head. “Ravenclaw’s diadem was mine,
per the laws that deal with lost treasure. But this, even though it is Slytherin’s and I’m his
descendant, belongs to Hepzibah Smith’s heirs since I stole it from her.”

“Yeah, no,” Harry disagreed at once, looking Tom straight in the eyes. “Burke practically
stole this from your mother at the lowest point in her life and that means Hepzibah Smith
bought stolen goods, so it’s yours as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well,” Tom said with an incredibly fond look, which made Harry’s stomach do a backwards
flip. “I appreciate you saying that.” Then Tom looked around, pulling out of the hug
completely. “Please tell me you’ve been using detection charms on your presents.”
“Yeah, I’m not stupid,” Harry said while poking Tom in his side in annoyance. “I’ve also
discarded any food from anyone I don’t personally know.”

“Good.” Tom got up from Harry’s bed, careful to not step on any of the potentially poisoned
cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs that littered the floor beside Harry’s bed. “Talking about
food, breakfast is waiting. And perhaps afterwards, I can take you to my safehouse to meet
Nagini.”

Harry’s stomach did another flip, though this time it was from sudden nervousness. “All
right. Sounds good. Don’t we have festivities with the Notts planned for today?”

“Just an elaborate meal this evening,” Tom explained as Harry pushed gifts to the side so he
could climb out of bed. “I know Dorus plans on taking Theodore to his wife’s grave during
the day.”

Harry nodded his understanding. Those were private family moments best left to them, so
Harry and Tom wouldn’t be missed for a few hours. “Could you vanish all that floor candy,
please? I’ll quickly get washed up.”

Once Harry came out of the bathroom again, barely ten minutes later, showered and dressed
in an attire similar to Tom’s, only his robes were a wine-red instead of black, Tom had made
himself useful. All the non-edible sweets were gone and Tom had magically sorted and
stacked Harry’s gifts on the dressers and tables around the room so Harry could easily go
through them and put them away later.

Harry smiled at him in gratitude while he put on his shoes and together they walked down to
the conservatory, which looked just as nicely decorated during the daytime as it had done the
previous night.

“Morning. Merry Yule to you all,” Harry offered to Dorus, Theo and Barty, who were already
seated for breakfast. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Merry Yule to you both,” Dorus said with a genial smile, waving them into their seats. The
moment they sat down, an elaborate breakfast spread appeared. “And we were happy to wait
for you.”

“Harry received a few more gifts that he’d counted on,” Tom said with a teasing grin,
glancing between Harry and the rest.

“Don’t eat anything from strangers,” Barty said at once with a rather worried look. “Some
poisons cannot be detected with any charm.”

“I know,” Harry said with a sigh. “I’ve gotten rid of all the food from strangers.”

Theo seemed to mull that over. “What a waste. You get piles of free candy and you can’t even
eat it.”

“Yeah, it sucks.” Harry, who’d gone without food one too many times in his life, had hated
having to get rid of any food he got from strangers once he first started receiving all his mail,
but thankfully by now, after a few months of sticking with it, he was used to it. Harry wasn’t
sure if he’d been able to see so many treats destroyed if he hadn’t had the practice already. He
might have been tempted to sneak a few forbidden treats, simply because of how wasteful it
was to just vanish everything.

Then again, perhaps all those people who sent food to Harry Potter, a child celebrity with a
long list of potential enemies, should realize it would never get eaten for safety reasons and
maybe not send food in the first place.

“Anyway,” Harry said, shaking himself from his contemplative thoughts and focussing on his
breakfast, putting a croissant and a sausage on his plate to begin with. “Thanks for the gloves
and scarf, Theo. I really needed those.”

Everyone took the time to thank each other for their gifts, and Harry was happy to see that his
gifts to the others had been well-received. In his previous life he’d never spent much time
considering thoughtful gifts for his friends, not to mention he’d never really given presents to
any adults before, so this was all a new experience. Harry was especially happy to hear Dorus
really liked the pair of silver candlesticks with Slytherin crests Harry had given him at the
last minute. After finding them in the Room of Requirement, Harry had meant to give them
to Tom for his birthday, which was coming up, but when he realized at the last moment that
he’d be staying at Nott Manor for the holidays and he needed something to give to Dorus for
Yule, the only thing that had come to mind were those candlesticks.

Now he needed to come up with something new for Tom’s birthday. Maybe he could go
through his humongous pile of books he’d just received and select a few titles Tom would
find interesting and just wrap those up for Tom’s birthday. Harry seriously couldn’t think of
anything else to do right then. Who knew gift giving could be this stressful?

“Do you want to see what I got?” Theo asked Harry with a small, uncertain smile as breakfast
came to an end.

“We’re leaving in half an hour, Theodore,” Dorus said before waving them off.

Harry figured Tom wouldn’t mind waiting that long so he followed Theo up to his bedroom.
Theo, never a chatterbox to begin with, was unusually silent, and Harry had a good idea why.
One only needed to put oneself in Theo’s shoes to realize the boy might be feeling as though
he lost his friend in some way after Harry’s shocking revelations the previous evening.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked him the moment he closed Theo’s bedroom door behind
them.

“Hm?” Theo looked genuinely confused for a moment and then shrugged, turning away from
Harry. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Sighing, Harry stepped a little closer to Theo so he could look him in the eyes, even if he
now had to look down for that while he was in his adult body. Usually, Theo was an inch or
two taller than him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier,” Harry said as sincerely as he could.
He regarded Theo as a genuine friend and didn’t want to upset him or make him feel as
though Harry didn’t care for him at all when the opposite was true.
“No, I get that,” Theo said, still not looking up at Harry.

“And while I may look different now,” Harry patted his own chest a few times, “In here, I’m
still me. I’m still the same Harry you met at the start of the year.”

Finally, Theo glanced up at him, blue eyes wide and slightly confused. “It’s not just you,
Harry. It’s just…everything suddenly changed.”

“How?” Harry asked, a concerned frown on his face. He really wasn’t sure what Theo just
meant with that.

Theo sank down on the small sofa in the sitting room of his bedroom suite. Harry followed
his example and sat down beside him. “Us kids from the Dark Lord’s followers have all been
raised on stories of the Dark Lord,” Theo said slowly, obviously choosing his words with
care. “And while some children, like Draco and Pansy, have heard stories featuring the
propaganda version of the Dark Lord, my father has always been a bit more realistic in his
history lessons, but at the same time he has always put the fear of the Dark Lord in me while
also promising me the Dark Lord would look out for me.”

Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out laughing, because that would be a completely
inappropriate response since Theo clearly was baring his soul here, but the way he told it,
Theo made it sound like Voldemort had been some sort of Dark Magic version of Father
Christmas, used to scare little Death Eater children straight. Harry couldn’t wait to tell Tom
all of that.

“But then suddenly the Dark Lord is back, but he’s not the Dark Lord anymore, apparently,”
Theo continued, speaking faster now, voice taking on a slightly hysterical tone. “And you’re
hugging him like he’s not the bloke who’s tried to kill you and who has murdered your
parents.” By the end Theo was staring at him with wide, slightly terrified eyes.

“Ah.” Harry nodded, previous hilarity quickly forgotten. “Yeah, from your point of view I
must seem like the most callous person in the world.”

“Well.” Theo didn’t say anything else but did nod his head a few times.

“In my previous life, I killed him, Theo,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “I spent every moment
from the time I started Hogwarts working towards Voldemort’s downfall pretty much. Every
year I’d confront him or some of his followers in some way and I barely made it out alive
most of those times.”

“I’d like to hear what happened if you’re willing to share,” Theo whispered, as though unsure
he was even allowed to ask such a thing of Harry.

“And I’d be happy to share a few stories, but not today since we’re short on time,” Harry said
with an agreeable smile. It would be nice if one of his younger friends understood a bit more
about Harry and what he’d been through and where he came from. On the other hand, Harry
wasn’t planning on traumatizing an eleven-year-old Theo with any of the really nasty details,
so he’d have to pick and choose what to tell him in the immediate future. “Anyway, I spent
years and years opposing Voldemort and in the end, after a long, hard fight that involved
everyone I cared about in that life, we won and Voldemort was gone. And then I learn that I’d
been manipulated and set up to be a sacrificial lamb right from the start and the people I love
most betray me and abandon me and the next thing I know I’m dead, except I get a second
chance, but so does Voldemort.”

“You’re in this together,” Theo guessed with a slow nod of understanding.

“Yeah, we are. But more importantly, Voldemort was genuinely insane, especially after he
came back in my first life. Theo, believe me when I say you would have despised him. He
regularly tortured and killed his own followers for no reason at all, he turned Lucius Malfoy
into a simpering shell of his former self, gave a sixteen-year-old Draco the impossible task of
assassinating Dumbledore and he drove Narcissa Malfoy to actively betraying him by helping
to spare my life.”

Theo’s mouth sank open as he stared in Harry in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, and that’s just the few things I can come up with right this moment,” Harry said with a
knowing look at Theo’s shocked response. “Voldemort was a rabid dog that needed to be put
down. But Death repaired the damage Voldemort had accidentally done to himself and the
man that returned with me wasn’t Voldemort, at least not as I knew him.”

“You got your vengeance on the Dark Lord already,” Theo mused while giving Harry a
questioning look.

“Exactly. I vanquished Voldemort for what he did to my loved ones and me. But Tom as he is
now is so far removed from Voldemort I can’t hold him responsible for what happened while
he was still insane. To me, it’s as simple as that.”

Theo inhaled a deep breath, his expression thoughtful. “All right. Thanks for telling me,
Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said and then gestured to the pile of items stacked on top of the
coffee table. “So what did you get?”

Theo happily showed off his Yule stash, which consisted of mostly candy, books, a few
games and some articles of clothing and some items for school, like fancy quills and ink.
Harry admired it all until they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dorus smiled at them once he pushed the bedroom door open. “Tom is waiting for you in the
entrance hall, Harry.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you both for dinner this evening,” Harry said with a polite nod before he left
Theo and Dorus to their day. He quickly stopped in his own rooms to get a winter cloak, and
then he ran into Barty right before descending the staircase. “Will you be all right today by
yourself?”

Barty chuckled while he gave Harry a fond look. “I’ve got half a dozen new books to read,
kid. I’ll be as happy as a niffler in Gringotts, promise.”
Shacking his head at the antics of Ravenclaws, Harry quickly skipped down the stairs and
met up with Tom, who gestured at Harry to follow him out the heavy, oak doors of the
Manor.

“Theo had a bit of a crisis of conscience about your non-Dark Lordness,” Harry said with a
teasing grin while he walked beside Tom towards the gates, gravel crunching beneath their
shoes. “Apparently all your Death Eaters tell their kids stories like you’re the Dark Lord
version of Father Christmas to teach them manners or something, and Theo had problems
recognizing this new and improved Tom as the Dark Lord from his bedtime stories.”

Tom stared straight ahead for a moment with a heavy frown on his face before he turned to
look at Harry with a questioning expression. “I’m just going to accept all that without
comment because I honestly can’t think of anything to say to that.”

Snickering, Harry bumped his elbow against Tom’s arm in amusement and then they reached
the gates, which opened for them at once. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Cumberland, near the coast,” Tom said with a warm smile, obviously happy to talk about
what Harry suspected might be his one true home. “It’s an old farmhouse with a nice bit of
land that Elric Avery, staunch bachelor and great-uncle of my classmate Aloys Avery, left me
in the fifties. He meant for me to use it as a gathering place for likeminded purebloods, but I
put it under a Fidelius instead and I’ve kept it as a safehouse ever since.”

“It’s your home,” Harry concluded as he offered his arm to Tom for side-along apparition.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Tom smiled at him while he closed his fingers around Harry’s wrist and
apparated them with a sharp crack.

In moments Harry found himself standing in an overgrown field with nothing around for
miles and miles. Tom leaned closer to him and whispered directly in his ear, “Tom Riddle
lives in Abbey Farmhouse in Cumberland.”

At once a grey-stoned farmhouse appeared a hundred yards away, two stories high with dark-
grey roof tiles and a red door right at the centre of the building. It wasn’t nearly as big as a
Manor House, but it certainly wasn’t small either. Harry guessed it had at least five or even
six bedrooms by the looks of it. In the distance Harry saw a long stretch of woodland and on
the opposite side a small river wound its ways through some low, green hills. It was peaceful
and quiet and beautiful and the last place anyone would ever associate with a Dark Lord.

Tom was looking at him expectantly, and Harry gave him a huge smile. “It looks amazing.”

“I’m very fond of it myself,” Tom said, with the slightest relieved expression. “Come, I’ll
give you a tour.”

Harry followed Tom to the house and through the door, which lead into a small entrance
hallway, with doors giving access to a sitting room, a dining room and an office with a small
but packed library. The furniture was slightly old-fashioned but comfortable, with lots of
ceramic and copper pieces placed around the house for decoration, and with intricately
patterned rugs on the stone floors.
“Tom, is that you?” came a slightly sibilant voice from the direction of what Harry guessed
was the kitchen.

”Yes, I’ve brought Harry along,” Tom called out while placing his hand on Harry’s back in
what might actually be a nervous gesture since his hand seemed to tremble just the slightest
bit.

A huge snake, easily twenty foot long with a body as thick as an average tree trunk came
sliding into the hallway where they were waiting. Nagini had a beautiful pattern of browns
and greens and golds on her scales and her bright golden eyes with slit pupils stared up at
Harry while her tongue flicked in and out, assessing him carefully.

”Hi, Nagini," Harry said with a little wave. It was interesting that nowadays he could make
out if he, or someone else, was speaking parseltongue while in the past he’d always been
clueless. Now he could make out a slight hissing undertone whenever he heard or spoke it,
much to his relief. It had been a real pain in the behind, not knowing when you spoke what
was essentially a foreign langue no one else understood. Not to mention, this time around
Harry was determined to keep Dumbledore from ever finding out Harry was a parselmouth,
and that was much easier accomplished when Harry actually knew when he spoke it. ”It’s a
pleasure to meet you.”

Nagini raised her head up, her body following, easily balancing high enough to look Harry
straight in the eye. ”Tom, your mate is very polite. I approve.”

Harry blinked at what he’d just heard.

”I’m glad to hear that,” Tom replied easily, hand still pressed against the small of Harry’s
back.

Wait, wait… Harry blinked again while his brain caught up with the situation. Nagini had just
called him Tom’s mate, but she didn’t make it sound like she meant ‘friend’. In fact, Harry
was quite certain that’s not at all what she’d meant.

And Tom hadn’t contradicted her or denied that’s what Harry was.

Harry’s stomach performed a few near-impossible flips while he sucked in a deep breath in
shock.
 Chapter 40
Chapter Summary

Harry and Tom have a battle of their house-elves, Tom has something to teach Harry and
Harry proves once and for all he really is a Gryffindor by making a daring move, but
Tom responds in the most unexpected way.

Chapter Notes

This chapter took a little longer to write since my depression returned with a vengeance
these past two months and all my writing was put on hold for a few weeks while I tried
ways to get my mind under control without resorting to meds that give me horrible side-
effects. Anyway, as it turns out vitamine d and daily light therapy seems to be doing
something so far. Not a miracle cure by any means, but enough to alleviate the worst
symptoms and help me function somewhat normally again.

So, here, a little later than expected, the next chapter. You may consider it an early
present for the holidays. Let me start by saying that THAT scene (you'll know what it is
when you read it) has been planned from the very start of this story. It was one trope I
was very eager to subvert. I do hope you won't all come after me with torches and
pitchforks for doing things a little differently.

Thanks for reading and for your support and comments. They have absolutely helped me
so much these past few weeks as I tried to get back into writing after my very brief
hiatus.

Chapter 40

“Let me show you the kitchen,” Tom said, ignoring Harry’s brief moment of shock. Perhaps
he hadn’t noticed it, or perhaps he was just being polite and pretending Harry wasn’t a giant
spaz who freaked out at the weirdest moments. “It’s one of my favourite places in the house.”

The kitchen was indeed lovely. Large, with light cabinetry and slate floors and an island with
a cooktop. Opposite that stood a round, oak table with four chairs.

Inexplicably, Harry’s thoughts became fantasies, of spending lazy mornings in this kitchen
with his soulmate, bickering about what to have for breakfast while Tom bumped his hip
against Harry’s to move him out of the way, and in retaliation Harry grabbed Tom’s arm and
hauled him in for a quick snog until Tom wrenched himself free with a slap to Harry’s arse
and promises of a shared shower later.

“Harry?”

Blinking, Harry turned to look at Tom, who stood beside him quietly, gazing at Harry with a
questioning curve of his eyebrow. That hadn’t been real, what Harry had seen with his mind’s
eye just now. Just wishful thoughts that had invaded his mind and for some reason a sudden
lump formed in Harry’s throat at the realization that his overactive imagination had
spontaneously sketched him a vision of a future for which Harry would do almost anything to
achieve.

“You all right?” Tom asked, now looking slightly worried at Harry’s blank stare.

Clearing his throat a few times, Harry finally managed to get rid of that annoying lump.
“Yeah,” Harry whispered with a helpless shrug. “I just realized you’ve got a home. A real
home.” Ducking his head, Harry took a few steps away from Tom further into the lovely farm
kitchen. He felt oddly embarrassed admitting this but if anyone could understand these
feelings it was Tom. “Just the other day I was thinking that I don’t have a home. Not yet, at
least. I thought it might be Grimmauld Place because I inherited it in my last life and I’ve
been dropping hints at Sirius that he should consider me if he wants to get rid of it.”

“But?” Tom asked when Harry fell silent as he looked around the kitchen.

“But apparently I suck at dropping hints because last night Sirius was ready to hand
Grimmauld Place over to Dumbledore, again, without a care. And I was forced to admit to
myself that it’s not my home, because Sirius owns it and ultimately he can do with it what he
wants.” Harry shrugged once more, turning his back to Tom as he looked out of the kitchen
window to take in the overgrown backyard that was filled with six-foot-high shrubs and
hedges. It must have been a nicely decorated yard once, but a decade of neglect had turned it
into a jungle.

“Harry, you’re still young,” Tom said quietly as he stepped up beside Harry, briefly glancing
at him. “I didn’t find my home until I was well into my twenties and I inherited this property.
Before that I was homeless as well.”

Harry snorted in amusement at Tom’s choice of words. Tom had always had a roof over his
head, just like Harry, and yet Tom was right. He had been homeless, as Harry was at that
time. Yes, officially he lived with the Dursleys, but that had never been home, just a house he
was forced to spend time in.

”Perhaps you will find a real home soon, without even looking,” Nagini said as she slid
closer to them. That confirmed one suspicion Harry had ever since learning of Nagini’s
beginnings as a human. Nagini might be unable to speak English anymore, she still
understood it just fine.

“Why on earth did your godfather want to offer his property to Dumbledore, though?” Tom
asked with a frown as he glanced at Harry again. “Does he not realize the old man made sure
he ended up in Azkaban for life without a trial?”
Harry sighed and shook his head in both amusement and despair. “Dumbledore lied about me
being in danger and like the true Gryffindor he is, Sirius acted without considering any
consequences and happily agreed when Dumbledore asked him for the keys to Grimmauld
Place because his precious order needs headquarters because Voldemort is back, don’tcha
know?” Harry ignored Tom’s amused chuckle. “Yeah, laugh it up, but I had just moved all the
interesting stuff from the Room of Requirement to the attic of Grimmauld Place and I would
be very upset if Dumbledore or Molly Weasley got their hands on any of those books or
artefacts just so they can throw them away, which they did in our previous lives.”

That sobered Tom up at once. As a genuine bibliophile, Tom looked horrified at the thought
of someone throwing out books.

“I think I’ve managed to convince Sirius to rescind his offer to Dumbledore,” Harry said with
a small grin at seeing Tom so distraught.

“There is no telling what sort of books might be in the Room of Requirement’s collection.
Unique tomes that can be found nowhere else,” Tom whispered, more to himself than to
Harry. He inhaled a deep breath and turned to look Harry in the eye. “Those books and
artefacts are not safe there, not if your godfather is so easily convinced to hand over the
house to Dumbledore. My attic has plenty of empty space and this house is under a Fidelius
so no one can get to them here.”

Harry was tempted to hug Tom but he didn’t want to overdo it, especially not since his mind
was overactive enough already when it came to conjuring up visions of kissing Tom at the
weirdest moments. “That’s an excellent idea and will help me sleep better. I actually yelled at
Sirius last night when he told me he’d given the old goat the house. I’ll ask Kreacher to move
everything over if you show me where he should store it.” Harry’s eyes widened and he
offered Tom a huge, victorious smile. “That reminds me. Kreacher is officially my elf now.”

“Black gave him to you?” Tom guessed. “For Yule?”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry said, unable to hold back a chuckle. “But Sirius is really bad
at giving a house-elf that hates him commands, and Kreacher managed to get the magic to
work using one of Sirius’ misplaced orders and my conviction he was supposed to be my
elf.”

“That is terribly clever of him,” Tom said with an amused smile.

Harry briefly bit his lip and gave Tom his best triumphant look. “Turns out my elf is more of
a Slytherin than yours, no matter Dobby is excellent at sneaking around.”

“It’s not a competition, Harry,” Tom said with his most unimpressed glare.

“I know it’s not a competition.” Harry followed Tom out of the kitchen and up the flight of
stairs in the hallway. “But if it were a competition, I’d win.”

“My dear, Dobby managed to sneak spiked tea in front of Dumbledore causing him to lose
his position as Chief Warlock.” Tom narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Harry over his
shoulder as they climbed the stairs all the way to the attic. “Dobby would win, no contest, but
again, it’s not a competition.”

“Pfft.” Harry shook his head while he snickered. “It’s impressive, what Dobby did, but
Kreacher manipulated the magic that holds him enslaved in such a way he got exactly the
master he wanted. Now that is impressive.”

“I do believe we should simply agree to disagree.” Tom pushed open a door at the top of the
staircase and together they entered a huge, mostly empty attic with slanted ceilings and a few
small, square windows. Several crates and boxes lined one side of the room but they hardly
took up any space at all. “Call your elf.”

“Kreacher!”

With a soft pop, Kreacher appeared in front of Harry. “Little Master is calling Kreacher?”

“Yeah,” Harry said while a soft zing of magic ran up his spine. Harry guessed that was the
result of his magical bond with Kreacher. “Sirius almost gave Grimmauld Place to
Dumbledore yesterday, so it’s better for everyone if all the items we took from the Room of
Requirement are moved here for safekeeping. Will you bring them over?”

“Kreacher will.”

Harry frowned for a moment as a thought occurred to him. “I don’t suppose you can move
over the entire Black Family Library as well?”

Kreacher shook his wrinkled head. “No, Kreacher is not being able to move the library books
out of the house. But Kreacher can copy the books and bring those here.”

“Could you?” Harry asked in amazement while beside him Tom inhaled a sharp breath.
“Would you? You can take your time, no hurry.”

“Kreacher will.” And with a soft pop, Kreacher disappeared again.

“I’m about to say something I rarely do,” Tom announced with an expression that was stuck
somewhere between shock and admiration. “I was wrong. Your elf wins. Kreacher just
procured the entire Black Family Library for us. Even Dobby and his magical tea switcheroo
cannot top that.”

“Ha!” Harry gave Tom’s arm a victorious slap while he grinned at seeing Tom’s disgruntled
face. “It’s healthy to admit you’ve lost, all the psychology books say so.”

“No need to rub it in,” Tom muttered, but Harry ignored him.

“There’s no shame in coming in at second place,” Harry rambled on, just because Tom
looked adorable while simultaneously processing an unexpected victory and an unwanted
loss. “Dobby is an excellent house-elf, but he lacks that little extra cunningness my house-elf
has. It’s not a reflection on your own qualities, I’m sure.”

“I challenge you to a duel,” Tom said with narrowed eyes, much to Harry’s shock.
“What?”

“You heard me. The duelling chamber is in the basement. Follow me.” And without giving
Harry a chance to reply, Tom turned on his heels and marched down the stairs, Harry
hurrying after him while he realized he might have just pushed his soulmate a little bit too far.

There was no way Harry would win against Tom in a duel. Not without an enormous amount
of luck, like Tom accidentally slipping and hitting himself in the face with a stunner or
something. Outside of such unexpected scenarios, Harry was screwed and he knew it.

Worse yet, Tom also knew it and his expression became more and more delighted the closer
to the basement they got.

When they finally reached the very bottom of the staircase that accessed the whole house,
Tom pushed open one of three heavy wooden doors and flicked his wand to light the lamps
that hung on the walls all around the room. The room itself was bare, with a low ceiling with
exposed beams, white-washed walls and slate tiles on the floor, but it was quite long and
certainly suitable for duelling.

“I assume you know the rules of duelling, my dear?” Tom asked with a sly smile as he
walked to one end of the room.

“Of course,” Harry replied automatically, while in truth he didn’t have a clue. He knew
official duels had rules, he just didn’t know what they were.

Tom tilted his head and gave Harry the kind of look that said he saw right through Harry’s
bullshit but instead of calling him out he’d rather just watch Harry crash and burn as a result
of his wilful ignorance.

Swallowing, Harry got out his wand, silently cursing his ingrained Gryffindor tendencies.

“Assume your position,” Tom said, and Harry quickly copied whatever Tom did. Standing
with his legs spread slightly, shoulders tilted back and wand raised. “On the count of three.
One…two…three.”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried out, mostly on reflex.

Tom easily side-stepped the red beam of magic that hurtled his way. His expression was one
of amusement and consideration as he observed Harry quietly.

“Stupefy!” Harry tried again, but once more Tom merely stepped out of the way, this time
quirking an eyebrow almost in a challenge.

“Bombarda!” Harry cried out in frustration. Tom sidestepped yet again, cool as you please,
not even responding when the hex exploded against the wall behind him. Harry couldn’t
believe Tom was just standing there, silently mocking Harry. Voldemort never had any
problems throwing all types of curses at Harry. “Do fucking something!”

“If you insist, my dear,” Tom said with a smile that was perhaps the smuggest Harry had ever
seen it. Tom never uttered a word, but simply waved his wand around. No hexes or curses
came flying Harry’s way. Instead, the ceiling suddenly sprouted black tentacles that reached
for Harry’s arms.

“Finite Incantatem!” Harry yelled as he aimed at the nearest tentacle, but it did nothing to
cancel the magic. Suddenly a swarm of wasps sprung to life in front of Harry’s face which
promptly attacked him with their stingers as they buzzed around his mouth and eyes and ears.
Frantically, Harry waved his hands around to chase them away, but the ceiling tentacles
closed around his wrists just as the floor beneath him became liquid and Harry fell into what
seemed to be quicksand. The next thing Harry knew his wand flew out of his hand towards
Tom, who easily caught it.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Tom said as he strolled towards Harry without a care in the
world.

Harry, in the meantime, hung suspended by tentacles while his legs were stuck in mud and
wasps stung his face. Rarely had he felt such searing embarrassment as he did at that
moment. His face must be bright red, and not just from the wasp venom.

“You have plenty of raw power, but absolutely no finesse nor any idea of tactics and you lack
a sufficient spell repertoire.” Tom smiled in a way that slightly softened his harsh verdict of
Harry’s skills.

“No one has ever actually taught me how to duel,” Harry muttered through lips painfully
swollen with wasp venom.

“Evidently. And surprisingly, we only ever really duelled once, during my resurrection in our
previous life, and our wands connected in a way that made a true duel impossible.” Tom
waved his wand around and within moments the tentacles disappeared and Harry stood on
solid ground again. Another few waves and all the wasps popped out of existence and Harry’s
swollen face shrunk back to normal, the stinging pain slowly ebbing away.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, staring at his own shoes, unable to meet Tom’s eyes since he still
felt ridiculously embarrassed by this sound defeat. It only drove home a few points Harry had
realized since his second chance. That Dumbledore had wanted him vulnerable and untrained
and that Harry never would have stood a chance against Voldemort in a real duel without the
quirkiness of their connecting wand cores.

“Well, I shall just have to teach you,” Tom said, and Harry snapped his head up, staring at
Tom with wide eyes.

“Really? You’d teach me how to actually duel?” Harry asked, embarrassment quickly
forgotten and replaced with a warm burst of excitement.

“Of course,” Tom said, and it looked for a moment that he wanted to say more but Harry
never gave him the chance.

Later, Harry would be unable to explain how exactly it happened, but at that moment Harry
suddenly found himself standing against Tom with his lips pressed against Tom’s mouth.
For several long seconds, that might as well have been minutes or hours, neither of them
moved. But then Harry’s Gryffindor courage finally took over and Harry stood up on his toes
a bit, cupped the back of Tom’s head, fingers weaving through his thick hair, and actually
kissed him.

Tom inhaled a sharp breath through his nose, eyes wide, but as Harry gently moved his lips
against Tom’s, his rigid stance relaxed. Tom’s eyes drooped closed as he placed a warm hand
against the side of Harry’s head and teased open Harry’s lips with the tip of his tongue.

A quiet little moan escaped Harry as his tongue touched Tom’s and they deepened their kiss.

Whatever had possessed Harry to kiss Tom right there and then, he couldn’t say, but he was
absolutely ecstatic that he had. This felt nothing like the hesitant and inexperienced kisses
he’d shared with Cho or Ginny in his previous life.

Kissing Tom felt like something just clicked into place and suddenly all the uncertainties
Harry had ever had vanished and his entire life finally made sense.

Just as Harry felt his body starting to respond to the feeling of Tom’s tongue caressing his
own over and over again, Tom pulled back, breaking their kiss.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Tom said, physically taking several steps back to distance himself
from Harry.

“Wut?” Harry managed to say while a wave of icy rejection crashed into him that made him
simultaneously want to run away in embarrassment and shout in anger and curl up in a ball
and cry in despair.

Tom shook his head and finally looked up to meet Harry’s wide-eyed stare. His dark-blue
eyes were shining with something that Harry couldn’t identify. “It’s not you, Harry. I’m
just…” Tom blew out a shuddering breath and rubbed a trembling hand across his eyes. “I’m
still trying very hard to keep myself on my mental broomstick, if that makes sense.”

“Er…” Harry swallowed and nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if he understood what Tom
was saying. He wanted to know what Tom was saying. Had to know why Tom rejected him.

“Harry,” Tom said, and finally Harry recognized the emotion he saw shimmering in Tom’s
eyes. Vulnerability. Harry was sure he’d never seen that emotion displayed so openly on
Tom’s face before. “You’re not the only one who has been traumatized by their previous life.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded again, clasping his hands in front of him because he suddenly realized
they were just dangling there and somehow that annoyed him.

“And I’m much improved,” Tom said, sounding a little more confident now, as if he finally
figured out how to explain himself. “I’m doing so much better than in our previous lives, and
even compared to the first couple of months since our return. But I still have issues I’m
dealing with, things I have to work through for myself.”
“Okay,” Harry said and then he realized exactly what Tom was saying and suddenly he felt
like the most selfish prick in the whole wide world. “Fuck, Tom, I had no idea you were
going through the same stuff that I was going through sometimes. I’m so sorry that we’ve
only been working on my traumas.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Tom said with a disbelieving little sniff. “Of course you had no idea, since
I didn’t tell you or anyone else for that matter. I’ve never had anyone to share such things
with, and even now that you are in my life I still find it very difficult to address such personal
issues. All of this is new to me.”

“Being a functional human being?” Harry guessed.

Tom snorted and his lips curled up in a smile as if he couldn’t stop it. “Yes, being a functional
human being. I’m still learning and I’m terrified to fuck this up and turn back into a
monster.”

“You’d never – “

Tom cut Harry’s protests off with a gesture of his hand while he gave Harry an even look. “It
doesn’t matter what I would or wouldn’t do right now. What matters is that I have to
convince myself of these things and that is still a work in progress. And I have to figure these
things out before I can commit myself to you, sweetheart. You deserve my undivided
attention and I simply cannot give that to you just yet.”

Harry bit his lip and swallowed against a lump in his throat that made his eyes water.

“It’s not a ‘no’,” Tom said as he took a step closer to Harry, looking and sounding more like
himself again. “It’s a ‘I need time to figure out how to be a functional human being before I
can commit myself to a romantic relationship because I really, truly, desperately don’t want to
fuck up whatever relationship we have between us’.”

Harry chuckled, a sense of relief washing over him, taking that stupid lump away. “All right.
I get that.”

“Thank you.” Tom cupped Harry’s cheek with his hand and ran his thumb across Harry’s
bottom lip. “Face it, Harry. We are inevitable.”

Hearing Tom say that clinched the deal for Harry, that Tom really wasn’t rejecting him, but
merely postponing the next step in their relationship. And Harry could be patient. Probably.
“Yeah, I got that idea as well,” Harry whispered, staring into Tom’s eyes. “Ever since we got
this second chance the most important person in my life has been you and I don’t see that
changing anytime soon.”

“I feel the exact same way,” Tom said with a slow nod. “Give me some time and eventually
we’ll take that step.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll wait,” Harry said and was surprised to see a flash of relief
cross Tom’s face. “I mean that,” he added, to make sure Tom understood Harry would wait as
long as it took. There was no one else Harry was interested in and Harry honestly couldn’t
imagine that changing now or ever. Tom was his soulmate since they literally shared a soul,
or at least a part of it, not to mention they’d both been given a second chance at life. There
was no one in the whole world who could compete with that.

“Thank you,” Tom said softly, his eyes warm again and his smile bright. “I promise I’ll make
it up to you eventually that you have to wait for me to sort myself out now.”

“Nah,” Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand while returning Tom’s smile. “I can
wait, really. And it’s probably a good thing for both of us to not jump into a relationship too
quickly. I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing either most of the time, to be honest. Mostly, I
just wing it.”

“Gryffindor,” Tom said with a smile that was both incredibly fond yet mildly mocking.

Harry grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

”Silly boys.”

Both Tom and Harry turned to look at the side, where they saw Nagini curled up in a corner,
looking terribly amused for a snake that could barely move enough muscles to even have
facial expressions.

“Nagini,” Tom said with the kind of tired sigh that spoke of decades of being spied on by his
serpent sibling. “Enjoying the show?”

”Yes, very much, thanks for asking,” Nagini said without a hint of shame. She raised her head
a little and gave Tom a long look. ”I am very proud of you, Tom, for finally trying to become
a functional human being.”

Tom rolled his eyes while releasing another sigh, this one even deeper than the one before.

”I’m serious,” Nagini insisted with a soft snicker. ”You’ve certainly never attempted such a
thing before. It’s going to be ever so amusing to see how you manage it. So far I’d say at least
your romantic qualifications need some work.”

Harry might have fallen a little bit in love with Nagini right then and there, if only for her
ability to make Tom Marvolo Riddle blush.

Clearing his throat, Tom shot Nagini a brief, highly annoyed glare and then gave Harry an
apologetic smile. “Ignore her. It’s what I usually do when she gets like this.”

”It never works,” Nagini assured Harry while she stretched herself out a little.

Tom did indeed ignore her, even going so far as turning his back on her. “Anyway, about
duelling.”

“Oh yeah, you were going to teach me.” Harry perked up at that reminder. He really wanted
to learn how to duel properly and he was sure there wasn’t a better teacher in the whole world
than Tom. From what Harry knew his soulmate really was very good at it to the point that
even Dumbledore with the Elder wand couldn’t best him in a duel, and that was saying
something. Harry truly looked forward to learn even just a fraction of the things Tom knew
when it came to magical duelling.

“First things first, your breathing,” Tom said with a knowing little smile.

“What?” Harry asked, eyes widening in disbelief and no small amount of disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting to hex me silly first thing?” Tom’s smile grew into a
proper smirk and Harry sighed in defeat. “Sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but for now I’m
going to teach you how to breathe.”

And that is exactly what Tom did over the next hour while Nagini watched on and offered
comments of her own, some mocking but others surprisingly insightful. Harry huffed and
puffed and learned to use his diaphragm properly while pronouncing spells and while silently
casting in a steady, rhythmic stream of hexes.

Right as they were getting ready to break for lunch, Kreacher popped into the basement
room. “Kreacher is finishing bringing all of the Little Master’s treasures to the attic.”

“That’s a relief. Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said while giving Kreacher a soft pat on his
shoulder.

“Kreacher will be copying the library now,” Kreacher said and without waiting for a reply he
popped away again.

“Best house-elf ever,” Harry said with a knowing grin while Tom rolled his eyes. And then
something occurred to him. “Wait, how is Kreacher able to see the house? You didn’t tell him
the secret, did you?”

“Kreacher has been let in on the secret the moment I informed you. Since he’s your house-elf
and he’s bound to you, the secret transfers over to him,” Tom explained as they left the
basement.

“Ah, that makes sense. And I’m assuming that applies to familiars as well? Because Hedwig
never had any problem finding anyone hiding under a Fidelius in my previous life and I
doubt anyone ever told her the location.”

“Yes, it goes for all creatures bound to you.” The second they entered the kitchen, Tom called
for his house-elf. “Dobby, can you arrange some lunch for us? A light meal since we’re
having an elaborate feast this evening.”

Dobby returned within minutes with steaming bowls of creamy mushroom soup with warm
bread rolls and butter on the side. For dessert they had tea with a thick slice of walnut-raisin
bread.

After lunch they returned to the basement where Tom spent hours instructing Harry on his
footwork and position and more. And while Harry listened to Tom and did as he was told he
realized that even though Tom had officially rejected him, things between them had changed
for the better.
They had openly expressed their feelings for each other, more or less. Sure, it hadn’t been a
grand confession of eternal love or something silly like that, but they had confessed to the
other being the most important person in the world to them.

And Tom had said they were inevitable and replaying those words in his head always gave
Harry a warm rush somewhere in his chest.

All Harry had to do was be patient and give Tom the time he needed to sort out his own
issues and Harry knew he could do that, would in fact do much more if that was what Tom
asked of him. But all Tom had requested was time and patience and Harry vowed to give
Tom as much of that as he needed.

Harry wanted Tom to be happy and whole and a functional human being. The way Harry felt
about Tom meant that Tom’s happiness was perhaps more important to Harry than most other
things had ever been. And that was a novel experience, since Harry was sure he’d never felt
like this about anyone else before.

It was almost funny how different his feelings for Tom were compared to what he’d once felt
for Ginny.

In hindsight, Harry wasn’t even sure anymore if whatever feelings he’d had for Ginny had
even been directed at her personally, or if they’d been a manifestation of his own wistful
desires for a family and a normal life. Sure, he’d liked Ginny well enough, thought she was
quite pretty, admired her Quidditch skills, but at no point had he felt even an inkling for her
as what he felt for Tom right now.

Tom invoked a bone-deep, no, a soul-deep longing in him while simultaneously offering him
an equally deep conviction that he’d never be alone again, that he and Tom were connected in
ways that truly went beyond life or death.

And the brief kiss they’d shared was enough to convince Harry that even though he had no
experience with another man, he needn’t worry about that in the slightest and that they’d
work out those things between them in the future without any problems.

In fact, Harry rather looked forward to them working out those things in the future.
Intimately.

“We’d best get back before long,” Tom said as the afternoon came to an end and Harry was
now thoroughly instructed in breathing and footwork and balance and reflexes and how to
use his core muscles while casting. “Dinner at the Notts will be early so we’ll have plenty of
time to get dressed for the Malfoys’ party.”

“Sure,” Harry said as he followed Tom out of the basement. Then he stopped and stared at
Tom’s back. “Wait, what party?”
 Chapter 41
Chapter Summary

Harry attends a party, learns something new about Tom and about himself, goes to visit
his godfather and decides to tell him the truth.

Chapter Notes

My unexpected hiatus happened because of the sudden loss of my mother in January. It's
only in the last few weeks that I've found some time for myself again after a very hectic
time dealing with everything.

So, do not despair, this story will continue, as will my other works. I love writing far too
much to abandon it completely.

Thank you for your patience and for your overwhelming support. I'm still amazed by the
wonderful response this story his gotten, and that has only made me more determined to
see this story through. And as always, I'm happy to hear your thoughts on this chapter.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 41

“And then my father said when I become Slytherin’s seeker next year, he’ll hire Maxime
Flaunt from the Wimbourne Wasps to personally train me during the summer,” Draco boasted
as he held court surrounded by his usual sycophants. He’d been boasting about everything
and anything for over an exceedingly long hour now.

Harry sat between Theo and Blaise on a nearby sofa and regretted many of his recent life
choices as he stared ahead, barely taking in a word Draco said. Beside him, Theo, that
annoying little blighter kept shooting Harry amused looks while hiding his smile behind the
rim of his brightly coloured children’s cocktail they were served by an antsy house-elf. Blaise
also looked vaguely amused but honestly, that was how Blaise almost always looked no
matter the situation. But Theo seemed to have developed sudden psychic powers because
Harry could tell Theo knew exactly how much Harry disliked being 11 years old at that
moment.

After Harry and Tom had returned from the wonderful day they spent at Tom’s real home,
they had enjoyed an early but delicious dinner in the observatory with Dorus, Theo and Barty,
where they’d eaten several dishes cooked with the chickens they’d used as sacrifices during
their Yule ritual. Afterwards they’d all gone separate ways to their rooms to get ready for the
Malfoys’ annual Yule party. In Harry’s case this meant taking the antidote to the aging potion
Tom had gifted him. And suddenly finding himself in his 11-year-old body again, after
having enjoyed being his adult self for barely two days, was a real disappointment somehow.

Worse yet, since Harry was going to visit Sirius the next day to spend a few days with his
godfather he wouldn’t be able to put more of the aging potion to good use until almost the
end of the Yule holidays when he’d return to Nott Manor.

If Sirius even let him return that was.

Harry sighed and sipped his own fruity cocktail which sadly lacked any alcohol. Somehow
he’d envisioned attending an official Malfoy party as something a little more exciting than
being stuck in a small reception room while Draco bragged about his life in excruciating
detail. But as it turned out, it was tradition that during parties held in the evening children
below Hogwarts age weren’t even allowed to attend, and children of Hogwarts age could
attend but in a separate room away from the adults. Only those Hogwarts students that were
of age could join the grown-ups.

Not that Harry could really blame the adults, mind. He understood all too well that the adults
wanted a chance to socialize and talk about adult subjects without a bunch of children and
young teenagers running around.

This was also the reason Harry himself hadn’t even received a personal invitation, because
Harry wasn’t personally invited.

Theodorus Nott was personally invited to the party, and since he had two children of
Hogwarts age in his care at that time, he could bring them with him as long as those children
understood that they were supposed to stay out of sight for pretty much the whole evening.

Harry sighed again, ignoring Theo’s quiet chuckles while Draco had moved on to the topic of
shoes and how his mother had taken him shopping in Prague by portkey for the very special
new shoes he was currently wearing.

Since Harry could feel himself become more and more agitated while coming closer and
closer to hexing Draco with some amusing animal body parts he decided the best thing he
could do was tune out the room all together and think about more pleasant things.

Such as the amazing day he’d had with Tom. How welcoming Tom’s home had felt. And how
absolutely mind-blowing it had been to actually kiss Tom.

Harry still wasn’t sure how the hell that had even happened, but somehow how it had.

Somehow Harry had put his lips on Tom’s, had pushed his tongue in Tom’s mouth until he’d
felt Tom’s tongue against his own.

They had kissed.

Really, truly kissed. The very best kiss in Harry’s lives, in fact.
And yes, Tom had sort of rejected Harry, but also not really. He had merely wanted time, but
he had been quite clear that he considered their future relationship inevitable and all Harry
had to do was wait and it would happen eventually.

Tom cared for him, Harry realized. And he cared for Tom. Really, truly cared for him.

In fact, one could say that Harry loved Tom.

Harry’s eyes widened because holy crap, that was some realization to have. As he was sitting
there in Malfoy Manor, listening to Draco drone on about cufflinks, Harry knew with
certainty that he loved Tom.

Harry Potter loved Tom Riddle.

That realization took his breath away, but at the same time Harry’s face wanted to break out
in the largest, sappiest smile ever.

So this was what it felt like, Harry mused, to be in love. This glowing cloud that absorbed
you whole.

He’d known for a while now that he was attracted to Tom and even that he cared about Tom,
considered him the closest friend he had.

But now he knew that his feelings had grown so much that it had become love that he felt.
Harry barely managed to keep his face straight and subdue the smile that wouldn’t be amiss
on the face of a lovesick fool, but now he suddenly had the urge to start laughing because
holy crap, Harry Potter loved Tom Riddle who was in essence Lord Voldemort and no one
knew.

Dumbledore still believed Harry would one day vanquish Tom while Harry would never do
such a thing. Fuck Tom, certainly, and marry Tom, maybe, hopefully, but Harry knew from
this moment on that he would never, ever hurt Tom no matter what the world expected of
him.

Harry basked in that glowing feeling of happiness for the rest of the evening.

It wasn’t until the party came to an end and Harry found himself strolling through the opulent
corridors of Malfoy Manor that unwelcome memories tried to invade his mind. Being stuck
in an unfamiliar room surrounded by three dozen Hogwarts students, most of which he knew
by name, had kept the memories of his previous life at bay, but now he recognized the exact
corridor he’d been hauled through on his way to see Lucius, Narcissa and Bellatrix when
they’d been caught by snatchers. Hermione had been tortured here and Harry could still hear
her agonized screams. Pettigrew had looked so, so scared while his own silver hand choked
the life out of him.

And Harry didn’t even want to think about what had really happened to Luna while she’d
been imprisoned in this house surrounded by depraved men.
“Harry,” Theo said quietly as he walked beside Harry to the entrance hall. “You all right? You
look white as a sheet.”

“Fine,” Harry managed to say, desperately pulling his mind back to the here and now. “Just
tired. Been a long day.”

Before Theo could respond they arrived in the hallway where Tom, Dorus and Barty stood
waiting for them. At once the chilly thoughts that had invaded him were replaced with that
welcoming glowing feeling and Harry smiled at Tom as he fell into step with him while they
left the manor to walk towards the apparition point beyond the gates.

“Enjoy your evening at the metaphorical kiddie table?” Tom asked with a knowing smirk as
he glanced down.

Harry sighed. “I hate you so much right now.”

Tom’s smirk stayed firmly in place. “Not quite the impression I got earlier today, my dear.”

That glowing feeling in Harry’s chest intensified until he was genuinely worried he might
spontaneously combust. Was this flirting? Was Tom flirting with him? Harry hadn’t a clue,
but he suspected it might be the case. “Yeah, well,” Harry replied with an airy wave while he
was this close to accidental self-immolation. “I have it on good authority we’re inevitable so I
figured I might as well get things going. Gryffindors have little patience, after all.”

Tom’s smirk transformed into a smile that made his cheeks dimple, which what the fuck?
Since when did they do that? Harry’s neck objected fiercely while he stared up and up at
Tom’s smile in quiet disbelief. And once again Harry hated being in his 11-year-old body
because Tom was so fucking tall and Harry was a tiny glowing shrimp.

And then Harry learned the very valuable lesson that being distracted by someone’s smile to
the point of not looking where you were going made you trip over grassy borders beside the
gravel path, and he would have face-planted right then and there if Tom hadn’t caught his
arm and pulled him back upright before he could wipe out completely.

“Still hate you,” Harry muttered, quickly resuming his walk, his cheeks now glowing for an
entirely different reason than love. “So did you and Barty at least have a productive night?”

“We did, yes,” Tom said, cheeks still dimpled until he schooled his features into a more
familiar mask of fond amusement. “Lucius and Dorus introduced us to many influential
wizards and witches, some of whom seemed interested in hiring us to work on their wards.
So first contact has been made with wizarding high society and from here on out we’re going
to have to keep networking.”

“Fascinating,” Harry said, lying through his teeth.

Tom wasn’t fooled, though, and he snorted quietly. “You have many talents, my dear, but
politics will never be one of them.”
“You’re not wrong,” Harry was all too happy to concede. It was one thing to make a few
strategic friends at Hogwarts, something Harry didn’t mind doing one bit. But the thought of
having to spend the rest of his life boozing and schmoozing with people he probably couldn’t
even stand made him want to scream in utter despair. “Let’s leave the politics to you, and I’ll
find something else useful to do to help us out.”

“It’s a deal.” Tom said, but before Harry could contemplate what exactly he meant by that in
terms of their potential future relationship, they reached the apparition point and Tom
grabbed his elbow and popped them back to Nott Manor without any ceremony.

Harry’s eleven-year-old body did not like apparition one bit and Harry swayed in place
before Tom steadied him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Best to call it a night,” Tom said as they stood staring at each other for a few moments too
long. “Your godfather expects you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah.” Harry wasn’t sure why he was hesitating to leave Tom’s side. He was tired and it
wasn’t like they had anything urgent to talk about that couldn’t wait, yet Harry found it
incredibly hard to just walk away without some sort of gesture of affection.

So in the end Harry decided to do the thing Tom seemed to accept from him and he threw his
arms around Tom’s waist and hugged him. Tom chuckled quietly but still wrapped an arm
around Harry’s shoulder while Harry buried his face against Tom’s robes. “Thanks for
showing me your home today,” Harry mumbled, because he felt he needed to give some sort
of excuse for this spontaneous hug.

Of course, that was the moment Dorus and Theo, soon followed by Barty, popped into
existence right beside them.

“Good night!” Harry all but yelled as he sprang away from Tom, who also took a step back
that was a little too quick and uneven.

“Yes, sleep well, my dear.” Tom offered him a nod, face giving nothing away.

Theo looked as if he wanted to ask a million questions while bursting out in laughter and
Harry all but ran into the Manor to avoid his friend’s obvious amusement on his behalf.

Thankfully, Harry really was exhausted and sleep came almost at once and before he knew it,
Harry was showered, dressed and packed, belly full of the lovely breakfast buffet the elves
had prepared. Dorus and Tom stood waiting for him by the front door.

“Have fun,” Tom said with a hint of discomfort in his voice. “Don’t let Black drive you crazy
with his sermons against anything Slytherin. And if you need my assistance, send Kreacher.
Dobby also knows to listen for a summons from you.” He then handed Harry a small scroll of
parchment. “If you decide to come clean with Black, make sure he signs this.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a grateful smile, accepting the secrecy contract and sliding it
inside his pocket. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Dorus joined him outside to apparate him to Black Manor in Cumbria and a strange sense of
anticipation and worry settled in Harry’s stomach that had nothing to do with the
uncomfortable way of travel.

On the one hand, Harry was genuinely looking forward to spending time with his godfather.
He’d been able to spend depressingly little time with his godfather in his first life, after all.
But Sirius had proven only recently that he still was susceptible to Dumbledore’s lies and
machinations, no matter how many seeds to the contrary Harry had planted in his mind so far.

So Harry would wait and see how Sirius was doing before he decided how much to tell the
man, if he even was going to tell him anything at all.

Harry managed to stay on his feet as Dorus apparated them to the front gate of Black Manor
and without pause Dorus tapped his wand against the closed iron gate to announce their
arrival.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you so far,” Harry said as they waited, because it couldn’t
hurt to be polite.

“You’re very welcome,” Dorus said with a grin that seemed entirely too amused. “You and
Tom have chased away much of the rut I’d found myself in this year, and for that I am most
grateful. You’re more than welcome back and I’ll come to get you three days from now.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said, but before he could say more he spotted Sirius all but
storming towards the gates.

“You are not welcome here!” Sirius bellowed, eyes blazing as he glared at Dorus.

Thankfully, Dorus decided to simply ignore the open hostility and ignored Sirius, nodded at
Harry and apparated away.

“Was that really necessary?” Harry asked as Sirius, now visibly calmer, opened the gate with
a tap of his wand.

“Yes, Harry. I won’t have Death Eater scum on my property.” Sirius waved Harry inside the
gates.

Harry wanted to point out that at no point Dorus had actually been on Sirius’ property but he
realized that arguing about these things was probably futile so he kept his mouth shut.

Remus Lupin came walking up the tree-lined lane that led to the Manor at a much more
sedate pace than Sirius had and Harry wasn’t sure what to make of his presence. He didn’t
mind Lupin, not really, but at the same time he’d never been very close to the man in his
previous life, either.

There had been potential for a real friendship during Harry’s third year, but then Lupin had
buggered off and not been in touch during Harry’s fourth year, when Harry really could have
used a supporting adult on his side and after that Harry had only really had contact with
Lupin sporadically, mostly through Order business. Yes, Lupin and Tonks had made Harry
the godfather of their son, for which Harry was grateful, but that didn’t change the fact that
Harry barely knew the man.

Well, perhaps this holiday Harry could spend some time actually getting to know Lupin then.
One thing was for sure, though. Harry wasn’t going to tell Lupin the truth, not right now at
least. Not until he was sure Lupin simply wasn’t going to run out again when the going got
tough. Not to mention, he only had one secrecy contract, which was meant for Sirius.

“Are you all right?” Sirius looked him over top to bottom several times. “Did they hurt you?”

“No one hurt me,” Harry said with a tired sigh, already done with Sirius’ paranoia. “No one
tried to kill me, either. Well, except maybe Draco, who tried his very best to bore me to death
with his ridiculous monologues about his perfect little pureblood life during the party last
night, but everyone else has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Party? Last night?” Sirius widened his eyes dramatically as he stared at Harry. “You mean
the Malfoys’ Yule party? You were there? Harry, that’s practically a Death Eater rally!”

“I really wouldn’t know what it actually was, Sirius,” Harry said snootily, giving his
godfather a level look. “Seeing as I was stuck in a separate room with all the other children
drinking rainbow coloured drinks sweet enough to make every honeybee in this world weep
tiny tears of joy. The adults may have been worshipping Voldemort’s rotting remains or they
may have all danced naked around a pink Christmas tree, I haven’t a clue, honestly.”

“Merlin, Harry,” Sirius said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I did not need those mental
images.”

“I think he’s got a wonderful imagination,” Lupin said as he finally managed to join them.

“Thanks, Mr Lupin!” Harry chirped, trying to act a little more like a child unless he gave the
game away entirely.

“You may call me Remus.”

“Sure, Remus,” Harry said with a happy little smile, inwardly experiencing a small sense of
shock and surprise, because Lupin sure as hell had never given Harry permission to use his
first name in his previous life. Perhaps that was because Harry had first known him as a
teacher? Either way, it was something that stood out as being different, but not unwelcome.

“Come on,” Sirius said while gently giving Harry a small push towards the large, gothic
manor. “Let’s get you settled. We just got done decorating a room especially for you.”

“Really?” Harry’s orphan heart leaped a little at the idea of his godfather giving him his own
room.

“Of course. And if you don’t like the colours we can change it,” Sirius quickly assured him.

Harry expected something garishly Gryffindor, but was pleasantly surprised to find a suite of
rooms, with a floorplan very much like the guest room he’d occupied in Nott Manor,
decorated in dark wood and with blue, green, gold and red accents.
“Hogwarts colours,” Harry said happily as he stepped into the room while Sirius and Remus
hovered near the door, both obviously eager to see Harry’s reaction. “I love it, really.”

“I’m glad.” Sirius grinned as he stepped further into the room. “Moony here vetoed
Gryffindor colours and I wasn’t about to have a Slytherin room after we’d just done away
with most of that in this house, so we settled for general Hogwarts colours.”

“It’s great. Thank you.” Harry didn’t have to act since he truly was grateful his godfather had
given him his own rooms. In his previous life Sirius hadn’t even gone through that trouble,
instead letting Molly Weasley divvy up the rooms in Grimmauld Place, with Harry stuck
rooming with Ron instead of finally having a space of his own.

“Good. It’s yours, Harry.” Sirius sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and
gave Harry a long look. “I know you’ve got a muggle family and that you also want to spend
time with your friends, even if I’m not very happy with some of them,” Sirius quickly held
up his hand to ward off Harry’s protests, “but none of that matters, Harry. I just want you to
know these rooms are yours and they’ll always be yours, no matter what. You’re family, and
while we’ll probably end up disagreeing on plenty of things in the future, you’ll always have
a home here.”

Harry swallowed, and then swallowed again. This Sirius was already about a dozen times
more mature than the one in his first life had ever been and it gave Harry good hope that they
could work things out between them eventually. Either way, Harry was genuinely touched
Sirius had gone through this kind of trouble for him and he ducked his head. “This means a
lot. Thank you.”

“Sure, Harry.” Sirius got up and patted Harry on his shoulder. “How about we go see about
your present? It’s in the family room.”

Harry blinked in surprise and then followed Sirius and Remus out of his rooms and through
the mansion. He’d given Sirius a large gift basket from Honeydukes like he’d given to most
of his friends, which he’d ordered by owl. It was an appropriate gift from an 11-year-old.
Harry hadn’t sent anything to Remus, since he’d only met the man for less than five minutes
in St Mungo’s at that point so he assumed Remus would forgive him for his lack of gift.

And honestly, Harry hadn’t even realized Sirius hadn’t yet given him a gift for Yule. He’d
assumed Sirius had given him Kreacher for a hot minute, but after the truth came out about
that little faux pas, Harry had completely forgotten he hadn’t yet received anything from his
godfather. He’d received so many gifts, mostly from complete strangers, that it had utterly
slipped his mind.

The manor was large and rather gloomy in places, with patches here and there that had
obviously already been redecorated, Harry noticed as they walked from what was the family
wing of bedrooms to the family sitting room.

“Go look under the tree,” Sirius said with a huge grin as they entered a freshly decorated
room with white walls, shining wooden floors and lots of colourful accents. It was a far cry
from the stifling dark furniture and brown walls Harry had spotted in other rooms.
A large Christmas tree stood near one of the windows, decked out in an array of colourful
ornaments, some of which weren’t even attached to the branches but floated or zipped around
the tree. Below the tree was a suspiciously familiar looking package.

Harry pretended not to notice what it obviously was and ripped the golden wrapping paper
open to reveal a Nimbus 2001.

“Do you like it?” Sirius asked eagerly. “It’s only just come out on the market, literally two
weeks ago.”

“It’s amazing,” Harry said, admiring the broom. He’d never actually flown a Nimbus 2001,
since currently he owned a Nimbus 2000 and in his previous life he’d followed that up with a
Firebolt, also courtesy of his godfather. “I have a Nimbus already, but not this one. I bet this
one is faster.”

“Yep, that’s what the salesman said,” Sirius agreed with a satisfied smile. Then his face fell a
little and he gave Harry an almost pleading look. “Just, go easy on Gryffindor, okay?”

“Absolutely not!” Harry answered with a smug grin.

Sirius sighed dramatically and shook his head. “Fine. Want to try it out? I got one, too.”

“Sure!” Harry jumped up from the floor, broom in hand. Then he noticed Remus looking
rather wistfully at them both. “Would you like to try my old broom, Remus? It’s in my
trunk.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind joining you,” Remus said in a hesitant voice.

Sirius offered Remus a ridiculously fond smile. “Of course you’re joining us, Moony! And
do use Harry’s broom, because the only alternative is a Star Sweeper that my grandmother
used when she was a kid.”

After a quick detour to Harry’s bedroom they soon found themselves flying around the
manor.

“This is an incredible broom,” Remus exclaimed, holding on for dear life as the Nimbus
accelerated.

Sirius laughed at him while he flew circles around Remus. Meanwhile Harry was trying out
his new broom in earnest. It was a little faster than the other Nimbus, especially when taking
corners, Harry concluded. He would definitely be using it in future matches, but he’d also
keep his old Nimbus as a backup. It was probably a good thing Harry was no longer friends
with Ron, because he could well imagine the sour look on Ron’s face should a friend of his
own two basically brand-new Nimbus broomsticks while Ron had none.

They spent the rest of the morning chasing each other around the manor and across the
expansive grounds, which included a vast stretch of countryside comprised of hills and lakes
and some woodland. By the time they stopped for lunch Harry was exhausted and entirely
windswept, but he felt grateful that he’d been able to spend a few hours simply having fun
with Sirius and Remus. That was, after all, an entirely new experience.

“I’m not joining you for lunch, alas,” Remus said as he gave Harry back his broom. “I’m
visiting my mother and aunt for Christmas dinner.”

“It was nice to meet you, Remus. Have fun with your family.” Harry offered Remus a bright
smile and gave him a little wave, meanwhile realizing it was Christmas day. He hadn’t even
thought about that since this year he’d celebrated Yule with all the appropriate rituals, meals
and parties.

Sirius and Harry had lunch in a small family dining room, with large windows that looked out
across a walled garden full of vegetable beds, which were mostly bare, though Harry spotted
a few cabbages and some kale here and there. Lunch was steak and onion pie with mash, a
hearty but welcome meal after all their morning exertion.

While Harry enjoyed his meal and listened to Sirius tell a story about some Hogwarts
adventure or other from his own schooldays, he decided to tell Sirius the truth that afternoon.
They were alone, Remus wasn’t set to be back until late that evening, and Harry didn’t think
he’d have this opportunity again anytime soon, since Sirius had already let it drop that
Andromeda and Ted were visiting the next day. And most importantly, Harry wanted to be
able to act his own age when around his godfather. Pretending to be eleven got old very
quickly and the less Harry had to do it, the better. And Harry was sure Sirius, as he was now,
with two fewer years spent in Azkaban and having received expert care in St Mungo’s after
his release, was mentally stable enough to learn the truth and accept Harry and his second
chance at life.

“Is the family room secure?” Harry asked once they were done eating. “I have something
important to tell you, but it is highly sensitive information.”

“Yeah, there’s no portraits there, and we stripped the place, so I know there are no artifacts or
spells there used for spying.” Sirius seemed to accept Harry’s strange request without any
issues and they quickly moved to the family room where Sirius’ ancient house-elf Vivi served
them tea and little pastries for dessert. Harry knew Sirius was still annoyed he’d lost
Kreacher, and Harry did feel a little bad that Vivi now had to do most of the work by herself,
old as she was, but Harry also knew Sirius was filthy rich and could easily buy a new house-
elf to help him out around the manor.

“So,” Sirius said after he’d served them tea. They sat on opposite sofas with a coffee table
between them.

“This is going to sound crazy but all I ask is that you hear me out.” Harry cleared his throat,
suddenly inexplicably nervous and unsure where even to start. Well, he was a Gryffindor so
he decided to simply jump right in. “I’ve died and come back. In my first life I lived to 18,
only just, and in this life I woke up on the day I got my Hogwarts letter.”

“What…what?” Sirius’ eyes widened while his mouth sank open.

Harry raised a hand. “Hear me out, please. I’m not playing a prank, I’m utterly serious.”
Sirius nodded dumbly, not even bothering to make a pun about his name, which told Harry
that at least Sirius was willing to take the conversation, well… serious, pun or no.

“In my first life I was sorted into Gryffindor.” Harry stopped talking to roll his eyes when
Sirius’ face lit up and he gave Harry an enormous grin. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a Gryffindor at
heart, there, moving on. I became friends with two other students and together we solved
many mysteries and I faced Voldemort and his followers many times, always barely making it
out alive. To make a very long story a lot shorter, Voldemort came back at the end of my
fourth year and I defeated him at the end of my seventh year, even though I never actually
went to school during that year since we were too busy being on the run because Voldemort
had taken over the country the previous summer.”

“That’s incredible, Harry. Where was I in this? Did you get me out of Azkaban then, too?”
Sirius seemed at least willing to entertain the possibility that Harry spoke the truth without
arguing, and Harry counted that as a win so far.

“You escaped Azkaban in my third year. Before that I honestly hadn’t even heard of you,
because no one told me anything. I was a very ignorant little bugger my first life. Anyway,
you had learned that Wormtail was hiding at Hogwarts and you terrorized the castle on and
off while Fudge stationed a hundred dementors around the castle, so that was a fun year for
everyone.” Harry gave a little shudder. God, he despised dementors. “The truth came out at
the end of the year, but Wormtail got away and there was no solid evidence and Dumbledore,
that fucker, refused to arrange a trial for you even though that’s his fucking job, and you went
on the run. You…er…didn’t make it to the end of the war. Neither did Remus. Lots of people
died.”

Sirius blinked a few times and then leaned back in the couch with a wary sigh. “That’s why
you knew how to get me out of Azkaban this time then.”

“Yeah, I had several plans going for getting you out. Thankfully Amelia Bones realized the
truth once I pointed her in the right direction and she got everything sorted faster than I ever
could have.”

Glancing down at his lap, Sirius nodded and was silent for a few long moments. “And you?
Did Voldemort do you in?”

“No, Dumbledore did.” Harry relished the shocked look on Sirius’ face when he dropped that
little truth-bomb.

“Dumbledore?” Sirius could barely get the words out, as flabbergasted as he was.
“Dumbledore killed you?”

“By proxy and from beyond the grave, but yeah, he did.” Harry inhaled a deep breath and
drained his tea. It would always be difficult to talk about this betrayal, he realized. This kind
of pain would never really go away. “Voldemort had made horcruxes, containers to hold
pieces of his soul. We destroyed them all, but as it turned out, a piece of Voldemort’s soul had
gotten stuck in me when the rebounding killing curse blew him up. According to
Dumbledore, I had to let Voldemort hit me with a killing curse, which I did. By some
loophole I survived and the horcrux inside me was destroyed.” Harry paused for a few
seconds to give Sirius time to absorb all the information.

“Dumbledore lied. The only way to get rid of the piece of Voldemort’s soul in me was to
destroy all of me. After the war was over, Dumbledore shared the truth with the Ministry,
who arrested me, gave me a sham trial where my two best friends in the whole world testified
against me, and then they chucked me through the Veil of Death.”

Sirius rubbed both hands across his face. “This is…Harry, I’m so sorry…Dumbledore really
orchestrated your death?”

“Yes, just like he orchestrated your illegal imprisonment, Sirius,” Harry felt compelled to
point out. “Dumbledore is a chess master, and while he’s always had the good of the
wizarding world in mind, he is not the innocent, dotty old man he likes people to think he is.
Dumbledore is a ruthless general who is not afraid to sacrifice dozens of innocent people to
achieve his goals.”

“I’m starting to see that, yeah,” Sirius whispered, eyes bright and cheeks pale. “How did you
end up back here then?”

“Through some fluke, while we were hunting Voldemort’s horcruxes, I’d become the Master
of Death. Yeah, that’s a real thing, not just a children’s story,” Harry said with a chuckle,
seeing Sirius’ incredulous look. “When I died I met Death, who offered to send me back. I
took that opportunity.”

“And now you’re here,” Sirius said with an expression full of both triumph and disbelief.
“And now you can do away with Voldemort before he even comes back, right? I’ll help you,
Harry, just tell me what to do.”

Ah, here was the thing that Harry was unsure about. Tom had warned him about telling Sirius
the truth about him, but Harry wanted to at least try telling Sirius the truth. So far Sirius
seemed to accept everything Harry told him and his responses were quite stable and not at all
unreasonable. If he really freaked out, Harry could always obliviate him, at least about the
revelations concerning Voldemort.

“Yeah, about that,” Harry said with a narrow-eyed look, watching Sirius’ responses like a
hawk. “Creating those horcruxes had driven Voldemort utterly insane. Before making them
he was a young man named Tom Riddle, and Tom, as it turns out, is a reasonable and
intelligent wizard, not hell-bent on death and destruction.”

“Harry,” Sirius said warily, leaning forward to give Harry a questioning look. “How do you
know this?”

“Because Tom and I are connected. We share a soul, Sirius.” Harry exhaled a long, quivering
breath. “Death put his soul back to rights and I brought Tom back with me. He remembers
everything as well.”

“Harry, have you gone utterly mad!” Sirius jumped up from the sofa, tea cup clattering to the
floor. “Bringing back Voldemort? The man who killed your parents? Who murdered James,
and Lily, and my brother Reggie and so many others, Harry, how could you do this?” Sirius
sounded utterly heart-broken, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Tom is not Voldemort,” Harry insisted, heart constricting at seeing Sirius’ extreme reaction.
He desperately tried to find the words to turn this whole mess around. “Tom isn’t insane, Tom
never wanted to kill all those people, I swear, Sirius.”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s that Thomas Gaunt fellow, isn’t it?” Sirius’ voice took on a slightly
hysterical note. “You actually called him Voldemort to his face, pretending to be joking, but
that was him, wasn’t it? Don’t you lie to me, not about this!”

“He is not Voldemort!” Harry jumped to his feet as well, sick of seeing a pissed off Sirius
looming over him. “He was insane when he did all those things!”

“Who cares if he was crazy or not?” Sirius’ face became more and more flushed as his voice
became louder and louder. “I grew up in a dark family, and I know enough about horcruxes to
know you have to kill someone to make one. So Tom murdered at least one person before he
became insane as you claim.”

“Myrtle’s death was an accident,” Harry said, but that argument sounded weak even to his
own ears. He didn’t know how else to defend Tom, because in truth Tom had done many
things that were unforgivable, but Harry simply didn’t care. Being betrayed while giving your
life to save the world did that for you.

“I don’t know what is true about all you just told me, Harry, but here’s what I think happened.
Voldemort is back, just like Dumbledore said and he got to you while you were staying with
that Death Eater scum.” Sirius’ face became a mask of utter conviction, eyes flinty and mouth
a tight line.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, nothing happened at the Notts,” Harry muttered, completely done with
Sirius’ prejudice against his friends.

“There are many ways to influence someone’s mind, Harry, ways you don’t know about yet.
Voldemort made you believe all this nonsense of him being insane before. Think about it! It’s
the perfect way to get you on his side.” Sirius briefly looked up at the ceiling. “He also made
you believe Dumbledore wanted to kill you. Yeah, that’s something Voldemort would do, to
turn you against the light.” Sirius took a step around the coffee table in Harry’s direction.
“I’m taking you to see Dumbledore, to examine your mind, because Voldemort did a number
on you without you even realizing.”

“Fuck.” Harry slipped his wand from his holster, ready to obliviate Sirius, but he hadn’t
counted on Sirius being very tall, with long arms and quick reflexes and before he even know
what had happened, Sirius had reached across the table and had snatched Harry’s wand from
his hand. “Fuck,” Harry said again, though this time it sounded a whole lot more desperate.

“Harry, we’re going to help you get better, to realize the truth. Voldemort made you believe
all this nonsense to turn you against us, believe me. Dumbledore can help you.” Sirius
reached out again and before Harry could dart out of the way Sirius grabbed his wrist and
pulled him closer.
 Like hell Harry was going to see Dumbledore and spill the beans to the old man about
everything, but as Harry tried to pull himself free from Sirius’ iron grip he quickly realized
that as an eleven year old he stood no chance against the strength of a grown man and
without his wand he was utterly helpless to defend himself.

Fuck, Harry needed help. Thankfully, he knew just who to call.

“Kreacher! Help me!”

With a sharp crack, Kreacher appeared, eyes shining with determination as he pointed a
gnarly finger at a very surprised looking Sirius. “No good former master is not hurting the
Little Master!” And with a flick of his fingers Kreacher sent Sirius flying back right into the
Christmas tree, which toppled over completely, scattering ornaments everywhere.

The force of Kreacher’s attack made Sirius drop Harry’s wand and Harry quickly rushed
towards it, picking it up and casting a stunner at a very dazed looking Sirius. Then he stood in
the middle of the room, trembling while feeling defeated and lost.

“Kreacher,” Harry whispered, as his throat slowly closed around a horrible lump. “Get Tom.”

Chapter End Notes

I have always wanted to subvert the idea of the fanon version of the Malfoy Yule Ball,
with kids running around all over the place, getting all up in the adults' business, so I
hope you enjoyed seeing the metaphorical kiddie table as much as I enjoyed writing it.
 Chapter 42
Chapter Summary

Harry has an enlightening talk with first Tom, and then Sirius, and receives the most
unexpected news ever.

Chapter Notes

Thank you all for your support and patience! Another chapter so soon? Yes, when the
going is good, I write as much as I can. Some of you have asked me about updating my
other stories, and I assure you that none of my stories are abandoned and that all will be
updated eventually, depending on what sort of inspiration I get on any given day.

Let me know what you think! Your comments always make my day.

Chapter 42

Harry paced the sitting room of his suite, rubbing his face with a soaked handkerchief he’d
conjured about a litre of tears ago. He wasn’t sure how long ago Tom had arrived and sent
him from the family room so he could put Sirius back to rights but Harry had, much to his
everlasting shame, burst out into rather hysterical tears the moment he’d seen Tom enter.

Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever felt as relieved as he did when his soulmate came to his rescue,
especially since his mind had kept coming up with horror scenarios as he’d waited for the
cavalry to arrive. What if Sirius had succeeded in dragging him to Dumbledore? What if
Dumbledore had forced his way into Harry’s mind, or simply emptied half a vial of
veritaserum down Harry’s throat. Everything would have been lost and Dumbledore most
likely would have immediately done away with Harry right there and then after he’d
extracted all the useful information from him on how to defeat Tom.

And no matter that Harry knew he was essentially immortal, and so was Tom, and Tom didn’t
even have any horcruxes anymore for Dumbledore to destroy, the scenarios his mind came up
with resembled much of Harry’s worst nightmares those days.

So was it any surprise he had been a little bit upset when Tom stepped through the door?

Harry sniffed and wiped a hand across his face. He’d stopped crying now, finally, but his
nose was still clogged and his whole face felt swollen, his eyes especially.
How long did Tom need to deal with Sirius? Harry wasn’t even sure what Tom was doing
exactly, and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. Harry was sure Tom wouldn’t hurt
Sirius, but he also knew that Tom probably wasn’t being too gentle while trudging through
Sirius’ mind.

A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door and Harry stopped pacing at once and stared as
Tom quietly entered the suite.

“Is Sirius…” Harry wasn’t sure what he was asking.

“He’s sleeping thanks to a simple charm. He’ll wake up in a couple of hours.” Tom gestured
at Harry to sit down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.

Harry wanted nothing more than throw himself at Tom and hug him until the end of time, but
Tom’s expression was guarded and calculating and Harry didn’t think this was the time to test
their new physical boundaries, whatever those even were. So he sat down with a small sigh
and stared at Tom quietly, hoping his soulmate was going to explain what was happening
without much prompting because Harry’s mind was still in turmoil and probably not yet
capable of forming many coherent sentences.

“A small word of advice,” Tom finally said as he sat down in a chair opposite Harry. “Have
people sign the secrecy contract before you spill your deepest, darkest secrets.” Tom briefly
held up the signed secrecy contract in his hand before tucking it away in his trousers.

“Er…” Harry closed his mouth while his cheeks burned, feeling very foolish indeed he hadn’t
thought of that. It would have saved him some genuine panic, not to mention if he’d done
that and Sirius had managed to drag him before Dumbledore, he wouldn’t have been able to
actually say why he was there or what he’d discovered about Harry and Voldemort.

“Sometimes I forget how young you actually are,” Tom said, expression relaxing into a fond
smile while his eyes crinkled with amusement.

Harry huffed in sudden irritation. “I’m not actually eleven.”

“I know, my dear. But you are only eighteen,” Tom held up a hand when Harry started to
protest, “Yes, I know you’re technically an adult, but take it from someone who’s just a few
years older than you that you’re still very young and you still have so much to learn about
life.”

“Fine.” Harry leaned back in his chair, fighting the overwhelming urge to suddenly have a
good, long sulk.

Briefly shaking his head, Tom leaned back in his seat as well. “Dobby, could you bring us
some tea?” Within a minute Dobby had arranged a full tea service with some little finger
pastries and Harry gratefully sipped a cup of hot brew, only now realizing how thirsty he was
after crying his eyes out for a good, long while.

Tom took his time as well to take a few sips of his own cup before offering Harry a
reassuring smile. “Not all is lost, my dear. Black believed you and he was firmly on your side
until you mentioned the fact that you’d brought Voldemort back and had thrown in your lot
with him.”

“But I didn’t say I brought Voldemort back,” Harry insisted with an angry little groan.

“Harry, you sweet little Gryffindor.” Tom leaned forward a little to stare deeply into Harry’s
eyes. “You seem to expect that everyone will be able to forgive me as easily as you have, but
you forget that there are many people in our world who’ve suffered so much under my
violent past that they’ll never be able to forgive me, no matter what you and I do or say.”

“Well,” Harry started and then pursed his lips while his eyebrows knotted up into a deep
frown. “But I didn’t easily forgive you, though.”

“Didn’t you?” Tom asked with a quiet chuckle. “You all but invited yourself over for tea with
your arch-nemesis and immediately decided we’d be allies.”

“In this life, yeah,” Harry said with some urgency. “But in our last lives, I bloody well killed
you. How’s that for quick forgiveness?”

“Ah, if you’re counting our previous lives then no, you haven’t easily forgiven me.” Tom
sipped his tea again before continuing, still talking in an utterly reasonable tone. “But you
forget that besides the two of us, the rest of the world doesn’t have the luxury of doing their
lives over. All they have is this life, with all their pain and suffering still fresh in their mind.
You cannot possibly expect someone like Black, who’s lost so much to me and my previous
actions –”

“But they weren’t your actions, Tom,” Harry cut him off, quick as always to jump to his
soulmate’s defence, even against Tom himself.

“But they were.” Tom narrowed his eyes and gave Harry a decidedly stern look, as if
lecturing him on a life changing subject. “I split my soul, however young and stupid I was at
the time. I did that to myself and I turned myself insane and I then spent decades terrorizing
our world, killing and torturing my way through our society without a care of who got hurt.”

“But…”

“You have to understand, my dear, that almost no one is willing to forgive me for that, except
for people like Dorus and Barty who already were on my side to begin with. Everyone else
will never accept that Voldemort got a magical make-over and is suddenly best friends with
his prophesized enemy and that this somehow should make up for the decades of horror he’s
caused.” When Harry didn’t have anything to say to that, Tom added with a challenging
curve of his eyebrow, “How do you think the Longbottom boy you’re friends with would
react if he knew you’d snogged what was once the Dark Lord?”

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing at that description, and he tried his best to imagine
Neville hearing about Harry being in love with a new and improved version of Voldemort
while Neville’s parents were stuck in a hospital utterly insane because of their involvement in
the fight against the aforementioned Dark Lord.
“Or how about Amelia Bones’ niece? I murdered her parents personally.”

Pursing his lips, Harry finally gave a nod of agreement. He knew, no matter how much he
wished for things to be different, that people like Neville or Susan would never accept Tom
for who he really was, or Harry for standing firmly by Tom’s side.

And when Harry looked deep within himself, he knew that Sirius would never accept it
either, no matter how much Harry wanted him to, so much so he’d thrown caution to the
wind, ignored Tom’s warning and he’d just gone full steam ahead with a very poorly thought
out plan.

Ah, the curse of being a Gryffindor at heart.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry finally whispered, offering Tom a tiny nod of agreement. “I just
wanted Sirius to be on my side so much.”

“He is on your side,” Tom assured him. “I’ve obliviated any knowledge about the real me
from his mind, and replaced it with our cover story. Sirius now knows that Thomas Gaunt is
Voldemort’s bastard son and he believes that learning you’re friends with Voldemort’s
offspring is why he reacted poorly. You two got into an argument and Sirius went to cool off
in his own room where he fell asleep. He’ll probably apologize to you once he wakes up.”

“So he still knows I came back?” Harry perked up, feeling an enormous sense of relief that
Sirius would accept that part of the real him.

“Yes, he does and like I said before, he believes you and he’s firmly on your side.” Tom
placed his empty cup on the table and poured himself some more tea, and after Harry held out
his cup, refilled that as well. “Just to be sure, I added a few small, undetectable compulsions.
That Black will never trust Dumbledore again, and that Black will never rescind Kreacher’s
access to any Black family property.”

“Yeah, Kreacher saved my hide today,” Harry said in quick agreement, feeling beyond
grateful for the old elf. And to think that once upon a time he’d hated Kreacher’s guts and
here Kreacher went and saved his life.

“I had alerted Kreacher to the possibility of you needing his urgent assistance during your
stay here,” Tom said with a smile that was far too innocent.

“Wait, what? You told my elf to keep an eye on me?” Harry wasn’t quite sure if he should be
angry about this or not.

“Of course.” Tom’s shrug was entirely nonchalant. “If it means keeping you alive and out of
Dumbledore’s hands, I will interfere in your life, Harry, as much as I need to.”

Harry couldn’t hold back a shiver at hearing Dumbledore’s name. He was still beyond upset
that he’d almost fallen into the old goat’s hands and because of his beloved godfather no less.
“Fine, do what you like. I’ll be over here, quietly freaking out because Sirius almost handed
me over to fucking Dumbledore, even knowing how much of an enemy Dumbledore really
is.”
“You mustn’t be too hard on your godfather, my dear,” Tom said, much to Harry’s surprise.
“Black has turned his back on his own family, his own blood, to side with Dumbledore. And
yet, choosing the good side did nothing to keep his best friend from dying because of
something Black himself did. Though from what I could see, Dumbledore actually quietly
suggested that perhaps Black should find a new secret-keeper, which makes perfect sense
since Black would never have revealed the Potters’ location to anyone. He’d have died for
them, and Dumbledore wanted to set the prophecy in motion so he needed a confrontation
between Voldemort and the prophecy child to happen.”

Harry nodded while he swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. This wasn’t new
information, not at all, yet it still caused a sudden ache to erupt in Harry’s chest. “Let me
guess, Sirius still feels guilty about picking Pettigrew as the new secret-keeper.”

“Exceedingly so, yes.” Tom looked like he was choosing his next words with care as he
lightly narrowed his eyes. “To Black it is immensely difficult to admit that he essentially
chose the wrong side, that standing by Dumbledore is what caused a lot of the pain and
suffering in his life. It is therefore no surprise that at the first opportunity Black was willing
to believe the best of Dumbledore yet again, no matter what evidence to the contrary he was
presented with, because in doing so he alleviates himself of much of the guilt he very much
feels.”

“Yeah, and feeling all that guilt for over a decade while surrounded by dementors probably
didn’t do his head any favours either,” Harry said in a gloomy tone while staring down at the
tea cup in his hands.

“It certainly didn’t,” Tom agreed solemnly. “But I have repaired whatever damage I could
and I have made sure Black will never side with Dumbledore again not matter what, so you
won’t have to worry about that in the future.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, feeling oddly emotional again. “And sorry I didn’t believe you
when you told me not to tell him about Voldemort,” he added in a mumble, embarrassment
making him avoid Tom’s gaze.

“There is no need to apologize for this, my dear,” Tom assured him with a quick smile. “I
understand there are lessons in life one must learn for themselves.”

“Yeah, that from now on I’m only telling people I’m friends with Voldemort’s spawn, not
almost dating the man himself.” The moment he realized what he’d just said Harry stared at
Tom with wide eyes, suddenly worried he might have overstepped some invisible boundaries
that he wasn’t quite aware of yet.

But he needn’t have worried, because the only thing Tom did in response was smile and
Harry was so fucking happy to see those dimples again, if only for a brief moment before
Tom changed his expression to something still very fond but also a little more guarded.

Yeah, Harry decided something very important there and then. It was from then on his sacred
mission in life to get Tom to smile with dimples as often as he possibly could. This mission
was now more important than anything else, because seeing Tom smile like that did things to
Harry that seemed to somehow elevate his consciousness to higher levels never before
reached by mankind. Also, it made his belly tingle in a most delicious way that for some
reason made Harry remember what Tom looked like naked and wet.

“Yes, considering our future together it is probably for the best that we stick with introducing
me as Thomas Gaunt to all the people of importance in your life,” Tom said while Harry
barely made out a word he said, but when his brain finally caught up with Tom’s message
Harry’s face split open in a triumphant grin.

Their inevitable future relationship was still a go, and that was all Harry needed to hear every
now and then.

“This whole episode did remind me that I have to renew your mental shields,” Tom said and
Harry blinked a few times in bewilderment because he’d honestly completely forgotten this
was something they needed to do over the holidays. “Come stand between my legs.”

Harry sprang up, not worried about letting Tom in his mind because Harry didn’t have any
secrets to keep from his soulmate. The fact that Harry wanted a relationship with Tom was
old news by now and that was the only thing that at one point might have stopped Harry from
letting Tom root around in his head. But that kneazle was well and truly out of the bag so
Harry stepped between Tom’s legs and noted with some disappointment that he was so short,
and Tom so bloody tall, that with Harry standing and Tom sitting they could see perfectly into
each other’s eyes.

“This won’t hurt. Just hold still,” Tom said as he leaned forward a little, keeping his gaze
fixed on Harry, who in turn took this opportunity to study Tom’s eyes. They used to be brown
after Tom got his body back, but Harry barely had time to get used to that before Tom had
visited the wizard who had permanently transfigured his features. So now his eyes were a
very nice, very deep blue, with tiny flecks of green and brown visible if one looked careful
enough.

The next thing Harry knew was a cloud, a glowing cloud much like the one he’d felt the
previous evening when he’d realized how he really felt about Tom, only this time the cloud
was a hundred times brighter and denser and it filled Harry up and buried him whole.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, swaying on his feet. He’d never ever felt anything this good in his
life before.

“It appears to be a side-effect of our unique connections,” Tom said from a million miles
away. “Just hold still for a few more moments while I get this shield renewed.”

Harry swayed and swayed, his mind glowing and his heart pounding and he vaguely realized
this must be because they shared their dreams now and had been since Tom was resurrected.
The first time Tom had put the shield in place they’d barely known each other, certainly
didn’t trust each other or cared for one another.

But now everything was different and it showed in their connection, which went so far
beyond intimate that Harry couldn’t even find the right words to describe what was
happening. It wasn’t sexual, because compared to this connection sex seemed something
utterly superficial and useless.
It was the simultaneous joining of souls and minds of two individuals who cared deeply for
the other.

With a quiet pop Tom left Harry’s mind but much to Harry’s surprise and pleasure the
glowing feeling that covered them both remained, at least for now, and Harry couldn’t care
less anymore about boundaries and he simply let himself fall forward.

Thankfully, Tom caught him in a tight embrace, and Harry buried his face in Tom’s neck with
a quiet sigh while he scooted completely onto Tom’s lap and then he basked.

Tom didn’t say a single word, but simply followed Harry’s example and lazed while holding
Harry against him in a hug tight enough that Harry was sure he never wanted to let him go
again. Maybe they slept or maybe they dozed or maybe they were both wide awake for hours
and hours, Harry honestly wasn’t sure. It wasn’t until they heard a knock on the door of
Harry’s suite that they both snapped out of it.

“Wow,” Harry breathed as he reluctantly extracted himself from Tom, who seemed just as
dazed as Harry felt.

“Harry? Can I come in? Just to talk, promise.” Sirius asked from behind the closed bedroom
door and Harry remembered that he probably wanted to apologize for their fictional fight or
something.

Harry sat himself down in his own chair while rubbing his hands across his face to snap
himself out of it and focus on the there and then instead of glowing together with Tom.
“Come in,” Harry finally called out, and then cleared his throat because his voice cracked
horribly.

Sirius opened the door slowly and stuck his head inside. He was about to offer Harry a
tentative smile when he noticed the man sitting opposite Harry and at once Sirius swung the
door open completely, face darkening significantly.

“You said these were my rooms and I assumed I could have friends over,” Harry said in a
tone that was more defiant than anything else, but it was the only thing Harry could think of
to say to save the situation.

“Black,” Tom said with a polite little nod, looking entirely put together and not at all as if
he’d just spent hours cuddling with child Harry while they rubbed their souls and minds
together and yes, that made it all sound far worse than it actually was.

“Gaunt,” Sirius replied quickly and then looked back at Harry. “Yeah, of course you can have
friends over, but maybe announce them first?”

Harry wanted to point out that the circumstances that day hadn’t exactly allowed for that, but
Tom stood up and gave Harry an encouraging smile.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Tom said while offering Sirius another polite nod. “During my next
visit I’ll make sure to properly announce my presence, I promise. For now, I wish you both
well and Harry, we’ll stay in touch.” And without waiting for a response, Tom swept from the
room.

Sirius frowned after Tom and then sat down in the chair Tom had just vacated. “Look, I’m
sorry how things went during our earlier talk, but you’ve got to understand that learning
you’re best friends with Voldemort’s spawn is a little much.”

“He’s nothing like his father,” Harry said, playing along with this new scenario.

Sirius clasped his hands in his lap, leaning forward a little so he could stare at Harry intently.
“I know you believe that, Harry, but how can you be sure?”

Harry was about to let loose a string of swear words at Sirius’ utter stubbornness until he had
an epiphany. He sat up a little straighter and looked at Sirius with the best challenging
expression he could manage. “And how do I know you’re not like the rest of the Blacks?
Your mother supported Voldemort, your father even went to school with him. Your brother
voluntarily joined him and your cousin is utterly insane and worships the ground Voldemort
walks on.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stared at Harry with wide eyes while
Harry kept looking at him with a carefully constructed expression full of sheer defiance.
“Yeah, all right, point taken,” Sirius finally said with a sigh before his mouth transformed
into a grin. “Well played. Just promise me if the bloke ever does something suspicious you’ll
tell me at once.”

“Sure,” Harry said easily, returning Sirius grin with one of his own. “You’ll be the first to
know.”

“That’s all I ask. Now, are you hungry? Vivi prepared us a bit of a Christmas dinner.” Sirius
stood up while looking down at Harry expectantly.

Was it dinner time already? How long had he and Tom been cuddling? Harry quickly got up
as well. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Dinner was had in the family dining room, which was lit with dozens of candles since
darkness had fallen outside. Vivi served them a delicious dinner of a prime rib roast,
Yorkshire puddings, praline chestnuts and sprouts, and parsnip and carrot puree. All of this
came with a rich gravy and a chunky apple compote. Dessert was a luxurious trifle with fresh
mango and pineapple.

During dinner they kept to small-talk, Harry telling a few Quidditch stories from his previous
life and Sirius offering up a few of his own memories of his Hogwarts days. It wasn’t until
they were halfway through dessert that Sirius accidentally hit upon a sore subject for Harry.

“So in your previous life, did you have any girlfriends? I bet you were real popular with the
ladies. I know James always was.” Sirius waggled his eyebrows as he looked at Harry with a
crooked smile.
Putting down his spoon, Harry sighed, chest filling with that cold, bitter sense of betrayal he
always felt when remembering what had happened the day his friends turned on him.

“Harry?” Sirius put his spoon down as well, expression morphing into one of deep concern.

“It’s fine,” Harry said with a quick wave of his hand. “I wasn’t really popular, but I did have
a girlfriend for a bit, Ginny Weasley. But she betrayed me when the ministry put me on trial.”

“Oh.” Sirius looked down, his face doing a few very complicated things. “How fucked up is
it that both you and your parents had to deal with friends that ended up betraying you.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Harry said bluntly, and then he realized this was an opportunity to perhaps
help Sirius let go of some of the guilt he felt. “But Wormtail betrayed you, too. He betrayed
everyone and no one could have predicted it. Just like I would have never, not in a million
years, believed that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would one day betray me and stand back to let
the ministry execute me instead of fighting for me with everything they had.”

Sirius eyes shone suspiciously and Harry saw him swallow a few times in a row.

“The point is, that unless you’re an actual mind-reader, you’ll never know what really goes
on in people’s heads. I sure as fuck couldn’t have seen it coming, what Ron, Hermione and
Ginny did, just like you and Remus and my parents couldn’t have seen it coming what Peter
did. He was your friend, after all. All you knew is that he would never betray you, because
you would never, ever betray one of your friends. Just like I would never have stood back to
see the ministry murder any of my friends. I would have fought to the death to save them.”

Sirius nodded vigorously as he avoided Harry’s gaze, quickly wiping his hand over his eyes a
few times. “That makes sense. I would have died for James and Remus and yes, even Peter,
because he was one of us. But not everyone is like that, and that is something I didn’t yet
know back then.”

“It’s a very hard lesson to learn, isn’t it?” Harry said softly, while a sense of strange
comradery filled him. This was perhaps the first time since coming back that he was talking
to someone who understood like few others what it was like to be betrayed by a close friend.
“But once you learn it, you never forget it.”

Sirius made a gruff but affirmative sound, and Harry decided to leave it there since he didn’t
want to push Sirius over the edge into a complete breakdown. They could always talk about
this touchy subject some more at another time. So Harry went back to his trifle and Sirius did
the same.

They spent the next few hours playing a few games in the family room, which Tom had
quickly repaired by the looks of it while they shared more stories. Harry felt able to talk
about some of the adventures he’d had with Ron and Hermione over the years, the sting of
their betrayal not nearly as sharp anymore the more he talked about them.

Harry went to bed at a reasonable time as it had been a very exciting day, all things
considered and he was rather exhausted. The next morning, after a traditional English
breakfast, Sirius dragged Harry and Remus along for another morning of flying around the
estate. Harry reasoned that having been incarcerated in a small, stone cell for over a decade
made it all the more tempting for Sirius to go flying and experience a real sense of freedom.
Not that Harry was complaining, because he loved spending a few hours on a broom high in
the sky.

They stopped right before noon and went about cleaning themselves up and putting on some
nice clothes, since the Tonks’ were expected for lunch.

Right before one o’clock Ted, Andromeda and Tonks stepped out of the floo and greetings
were exchanged, as were a few gifts. Tonks handed Harry a brightly wrapped box that
contained five of Honeydukes’ most popular bars of chocolate and Harry thanked her with a
huge smile because he genuinely loved Honeydukes’ delicacies.

Instead of immediately sitting down for lunch, Sirius led them to the family room for some
aperitifs. Harry watched quietly as Remus sat down in one of the armchairs while Tonks
seated herself on a sofa with her mother. That wouldn’t do. Harry was deep in thought, trying
to come up with a plan to gently push Tonks towards Remus and vice versa because Harry
wanted a godson at some point in the future, when Sirius stood in front of them, holding up
his sherry while clearing his throat.

“I have something to tell you,” Sirius said, and for some reason Remus got a huge frown on
his face while Sirius offered him a quick reassuring smile before looking around the
assembled people. “Remus and I are in a relationship and I wanted you all to be the first to
know.”

Harry’s mouth sank open.

What?

What?

How even was this possible? Remus was supposed to marry Tonks and make Harry’s godson,
not suddenly be in a relationship with Harry’s godfather, who, as far as Harry knew, would be
unable to give Harry a godson at all.

Before Harry could stop himself, he yelped, “No!”

 Chapter 43
Chapter Summary

Harry managed to get his foot out of his mouth, asks Tom a question that freaks his
soulmate the fuck out, and finds the perfect way to traumatize poor Theo.

Chapter Notes

An update, because I still find that I write best when I can switch between several
stories. So expect me to update my stories one after the other as inspiration strikes me. I
do think I'll be able to write the next chapter for this one fairly soon, as I know exactly
where I'm going this time.

Thank you all for your amazing support for this story. It keeps me writing, that's for
sure. As always, let me know what you think!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 43

Everyone in the room looked at Harry with wide eyes and it dawned on Harry that he’d just
voiced his objections out loud when he hadn’t really meant to do so.

“Er…” Harry’s brain was working overtime to come up with an explanation for his response
because Sirius was staring at him with an absolutely crestfallen expression. Harry blinked a
few times and then said in his best child-like voice, “That’s allowed? Two men together?”

Andromeda sat up a little straighter and gave Harry a questioning look. “Why would you ask
that, Harry?”

Ducking his head, as though deeply ashamed, Harry shrugged. “Uncle Vernon always said
that two men together was dirty and wrong and they should be given electroshocks like they
used to do.”

“Well,” Ted said after everyone had sat in stunned silence for almost a full minute. “Harry,
you must understand that muggles sometimes have very strange ideas about what people
should and shouldn’t do.” Ted offered Harry a kind, reassuring smile. “In the wizarding
world it is completely normal for two men, or two women, to be in a relationship together.
They can even get married if they want to.”

Harry’s whole face lit up as he gave Ted a bright smile. “Really? I’m so glad to hear that.”
Then he looked at Sirius, who narrowed his eyes at Harry in a way that said he would drag
the real explanation out of his godson later, and said, “I’m very happy for you and Remus. Is
this a new relationship or were you already together in the past?” Harry was genuinely
curious about that.

Sirius sipped his sherry and glanced from Remus to Harry. “We were on and off during
Hogwarts, and later, during the war. Times were dangerous and we were busy, so we barely
had time for each other. But that’s different now, right, Moony?”

Remus nodded with a little sigh. “Yes, but it is still early on in the relationship, so I would
prefer you not announce it to the entire world just yet.”

Sirius waved Remus’ objections off with his glass of sherry. “Pah, Moony, this here is family.
They can know. I’ll keep it to myself around everyone else for now, promise.”

“That’s all I ask.” Remus sipped his own glass of sherry, and Harry wondered what exactly
the objections Remus seemed to have were. Harry vaguely remembered some drama between
Remus and Tonks, about Remus not deeming himself good enough for her or something like
that because he was a werewolf. Honestly, Harry had been far too busy with his own crappy
life to pay much attention to the love lives of the adult acquaintances around him, so he
wasn’t entirely sure what had been going on between Remus and Tonks before they ended up
getting married.

Seeing how Sirius and Remus apparently had a history of dating on and off, any objections
Remus had might be of an entirely different nature, Harry reasoned. Whatever it was, Sirius
and Remus were grown men so they could solve their own relationship problems.

Harry quietly mourned his godson Teddy, though, until he realized they were wizards and if
two men could get married perhaps two men might have a baby, too. Who knew?

“Harry,” Sirius whispered as he pulled Harry aside after the Tonks’ had left in the early
evening. “What the hell was that all about?”

Harry gave Sirius a sheepish smile. “You just caught me off guard. You never got together
with Remus in my previous life, or if you did, you certainly never told me about it. And later,
Remus actually married someone else.”

That seemed to take Sirius aback and he looked at Harry with a worried frown. “He did?”

“Not until after you were dead,” Harry quickly assured his godfather and then realized how
horrible that sounded. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sirius waved him off though his face did look a shade paler all of a sudden.
Harry thought about how he could make all of this sound better than it had so far, because
even Harry, who was usually quite oblivious about these things, realized it must all be rather
depressing to hear for Sirius. “In my previous life you spent longer in Azkaban, didn’t get
medical attention to recover from that and you were never officially declared innocent. You
weren’t nearly as put together mentally as you are now.”

Sirius nodded and swallowed, staring down at the floor. “I suppose I might not have been in
my right mind enough to get back together with Moony. He’s the only one I’ve ever had any
real feelings for.”

“I’m glad you two found each other again,” Harry said and he meant it. Yeah, it sucked that
Remus would miss out on his chance to make little Teddy with Tonks, but perhaps Sirius and
Remus could make a baby with magic or something. Harry had no clue, but he knew exactly
who to consult on such matters.

“Soulmate!” Harry said to Tom the moment he answered his mirror later that evening when
Harry was tucked comfortably in bed. “Can two men have a baby using magic?”

Tom’s face did a great number of very interesting and hilarious things as he stared at Harry.
“Are we already at the stage of our non-relationship where we should discuss whether we
desire to have children or not? Because to tell you the truth, Harry, I do not want children.”

Harry blinked a few times and then he fell over laughing. “Not for us!” he managed to
breathe in between his cackling. “I don’t want kids, either, I don’t think.”

“Ah,” Tom said in a way that made it obvious he was trying very hard not to sound too
relieved. “Then what on earth brought this line of questioning on?”

“Sirius and Remus are in a relationship,” Harry said, still breathing heavily as he sat up on
the bed, long hair in disarray. He swiped it away from his face with a quick gesture. “But in
our past life, Remus was married to Nymphadora Tonks and they had a son named Teddy and
they named me godfather.”

Harry waited expectantly for Tom to respond, but Tom seemed utterly puzzled by Harry’s
story so far.

“Well,” Tom finally said with a polite tilt of his head. “Circumstances change for lots of
people, my dear, not just for us. It stands to reason that the people around you also might
make different decisions than what they did before.”

“Yeah, okay, I get that,” Harry said just a little impatiently. He did get it, that things were
different for Sirius especially this time around. “But I want my godson back, so I need to
know if Sirius can knock Remus up or vice versa.”

Tom was doing funny things with his face again before he briefly looked down to hide a grin.
When he lifted his head up again he seemed a bit more composed and Harry was sad that
there had been no dimples this time. “Magic is capable of great achievements, but human
reproduction is a complicated thing with many possibilities for potentially fatal errors.” Tom
shifted in his seat and reached for a cup of tea before he continued his story. “Quite a few
have tried to improve upon reproduction, including creating a child from two sperm cells
instead of a sperm cell and an egg cell. One wizard managed to transfigure one sperm cell
into an egg cell sometime in the late 1800s, which he then fertilized with an unrelated sperm
cell and implanted it inside a surrogate mother, who happened to be his own sister. However,
the child that developed was so misshapen in both physique and magic that it ended up
killing the mother during birth before perishing minutes after being born. The reports about
that tragic birth described the child as grotesque, barely human and having no discernible
facial features, only a hole without lips, no nostrils and empty sockets where the eyes should
have been.”

Harry stared at Tom with his mouth hanging open while a shudder ran up and down his spine.

“As I’m sure you can imagine,” Tom continued with a knowing little smile, “This did not go
over well within our community and at once laws were created to make the use of
transfiguration in human reproduction illegal.”

“Yeah,” Harry said as he swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. “That makes sense.”
When he’d asked Tom about the possibility of two men making a baby he hadn’t actually
considered what would need to happen to accomplish that on a microscopic level, and now,
after hearing that story, Harry knew he never wanted to think about it again.

“Quite a few people have experimented with potions, but nothing has come out of that,
either.” Tom shrugged and sipped his tea. “Nowadays, when two men want a child together,
they simply hire a surrogate and one of them donates some sperm. Or if they are less
concerned about the child having the same DNA as they do, they can always adopt a child.
Blood adoption is then an option, which transfers some of the family magics onto the child.
Naturally, since it’s a ritual using blood the ministry has made it illegal, but that doesn’t keep
it from being used in certain circles.” Tom gave Harry an amused look. “And then there is of
course also the option for a wizard to simply marry a witch regardless of his sexual
orientation and have children with her while having a male lover on the side. That was the
norm in pureblood circles for many centuries for men who preferred their own gender and for
some families that still is the only acceptable option to this day.”

“Wow,” Harry said while his head felt like it was spinning while he processed all this new
information. “So to make a very long story short, I shouldn’t expect Sirius and Remus to give
me a godson they made together anytime soon.”

“Indeed,” Tom said with a chuckle. He finished his tea and leaned forwards to place his cup
on the table before adjusting the mirror in his hand. “Why are you suddenly so concerned
with this child?”

“Dunno,” Harry said with an awkward shrug.

“Were you burdened with his care after the war?”

“No,” Harry said with a deep sigh while looking deep within himself to figure out why he
wanted Teddy back so badly. “I only saw him once after the war was over. Andromeda
looked after him, since both Remus and Tonks were dead. I got to meet him for a few hours
before Andromeda left the country to stay with some distant family in Europe for a while. I
just remember holding Teddy, seeing him happy and smiling, and that gave me hope after all
the death and misery we’d been through.” By the time he was done talking Harry had almost
forgotten that Tom was listening.

“So it is more about what the child made you feel rather than the child himself,” Tom mused
with a curious tilt of his head.

“I guess. I only met Teddy for a few hours, so I didn’t really know him. Besides, he was just a
baby. But he was something good that followed a very long collection of bad things.” Harry
stared at his hands while he plucked at the sheets that covered his legs.

“I am sorry you lost him, my dear,” Tom said softly before giving Harry an amused smile.
“But unless some enormous magical breakthroughs occur within the next few years, your
godson will only ever exist in your past life.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry blinked and looked up at Tom, coming to a few much needed
realizations. “Losing Teddy sucks, but at the same time I’m getting so many positive things in
return during our second life that I can’t really be too heartbroken about it, to be honest.”

“That is a very mature way of looking at it,” Tom agreed, and they talked about a few other,
much lighter subjects for a while longer before calling it a night.

Harry spent the next day with Sirius and Remus. In the morning, as had become habit by
then, they flew around the Manor’s grounds, and in the afternoon they visited Diagon Alley
where both Harry and Sirius got a few curious looks but other than that people left them
alone. They window shopped for a while before Harry insisted on visiting a few bookstores
and Sirius wanted to browse in the Quidditch shop.

Near the end of the afternoon Sirius finally remembered why he’d wanted to go shopping and
they ended up in the Owl Emporium. Sirius took his time to inspect the many available birds
while Harry decided to use the opportunity to pick up a few bags of treats for Hedwig.
Eventually Sirius chose a tawny owl, a dapper little fellow who he named Wilbur.

When Harry asked him curiously why he’d chosen that name, Sirius got a little misty eyed
and mumbled about a series of children’s books starring an owl named Wilbur which he’d
used to read to his brother Regulus when they were kids. Harry patted Sirius on the arm and
didn’t say anything else about it.

Wilbur was a bright, handsome bird who took off to Black Manor when Sirius told him to.
Since it was just about dinner time Sirius insisted they have a meal at The Silver Eel in
Fantastic Alley, a restaurant Andromeda and Ted had waxed poetically about the previous
day.

While they were seated in the fancy restaurant, Harry wondered why the name sounded so
familiar until he finally remembered that this was the restaurant Tom had told him about
when he and Barty had set the trap for Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry ordered the seabass,
recalling that Tom had raved about it, and he was not disappointed.
The next morning, Harry packed his things while Sirius gave him a forlorn look. “You don’t
have to go,” Sirius said for the umpteenth time. “You’re welcome to stay here. Forever, if you
want.”

Harry sighed, shrunk his trunk with a tap of his wand, and smiled up at Sirius. “I had a great
time. We’ll keep in touch through the mirror you gave me. And this summer I’ll come stay
with you again, maybe even for a couple of weeks. All right?”

“Yeah, all right.” Sirius reached out and pulled Harry into a quick hug. Harry insisted that he
would walk to the gate alone, remembering very well how Sirius had responded to seeing
Dorus.

Harry didn’t have to wait very long for Dorus to pop in and after a brief greeting, Dorus
apparated them both back to Nott Manor. “Tom asked me to tell you that he and Barty had
some work to do today, but he should return sometime this afternoon,” Dorus said and Harry
thanked him with a nod.

The first thing Harry did when he got back to his room was take an aging potion. Being an
adult again was beyond satisfying and Harry admired himself in the bathroom mirror for a
few minutes before getting dressed.

Theo soon came knocking on Harry’s door and didn’t blink an eye at finding his friend
looking like an adult this time.

“How was your stay at your godfather’s house?” Theo asked with a curious look.

“It was pretty good,” Harry said and then he realized that Theo knew about his previous life
and he could tell Theo things. “I never got to spend much time with him the first time around.
Now we spent every morning flying.” Harry got an idea and offered Theo a huge grin before
kicking open his trunk. After a quick rummage, Harry pulled out both of his Nimbus
broomsticks. “Want to go flying?”

“Yeah!” Theo said, eyes huge as he stared from one broomstick to the next and back. Harry
knew that Theo had a Cleansweep children’s broom, which he’d used ever since he learned
how to fly it. Most parents got their kids a children’s broom they were expected to use until
they started Hogwarts. Since they weren’t allowed a broom in their first year anyway, the
child wouldn’t get an adult broom until their second year, usually as a present for having
finished their first year of school.

Well, of course that went for kids who had parents who could afford the more expensive
brooms. Families like the Weasleys for example only gave their kids brooms when they
actually made the Quidditch team and really needed one.

They rushed outside and before long they were flying around the Manor. Harry let Theo use
both brooms, so he could feel for himself what the differences were between them. And while
Theo had very little ambition to play Quidditch himself, he did enjoy flying and was pretty
good on a broom, so they had fun trying out the brooms and chasing each other for a few
hours.
Nestor the house-elf served them lunch in the conservatory, and it was just the two of them
since Dorus had a lunch meeting in Fantastic Alley with some people who wanted to start a
business and needed an investor.

Theo asked Harry a hundred questions about Quidditch and all the games Harry had played.
Harry even teased that he’d been to the World Cup but he refused to tell a pleading Theo
which teams had played the final and who had won.

“You must know lots of secrets about everyone,” Theo said after they’d finished their soup
and sandwiches. Nestor served them both tea and a slice of apple pie for dessert. “You’ve
known people for years and years already.”

“Not really,” Harry said while he used his fork to cut a piece off the slice of pie. “I wasn’t
nearly as social as I am now, and I certainly didn’t understand the importance of networking.
But I do know a few of Hogwarts’ secrets.”

“What secrets?” Theo barely managed to ask, his mouth full of pie.

Harry considered what to tell Theo while he ate a bite of the apple pie, which was delicious.
He wasn’t going to mention the Room of Requirement yet, since he still wanted to go through
it himself before having others invade it. He considered mentioning the acromantulas in the
Forbidden Forest, but then he realized Theo might mention it to his father, who might get the
ministry to do away with Aragog and his brood and then Hagrid would be heart-broken. Then
Harry remembered something that he could share with Theo.

“I know where the Chamber of Secrets is,” Harry said casually and took another bite.

Theo stared at Harry, slice of pie briefly forgotten. “The Chamber of Secrets? The one that
supposedly Salazar Slytherin himself built inside Hogwarts? That’s real?”

“Yep.” Harry enjoyed the look of both shock and intellectual hunger he saw on Theo’s face.
“The entrance is in the loo.”

“That is a lie,” Theo said, though his mouth curved up in a grin.

“Nope.” Harry snickered, thoroughly pleased with Theo’s reaction. “A girl’s loo.”

“You are a liar,” Theo insisted, shaking his head. “Why would the entrance to Slytherin’s
Chamber of Secrets be in a girl’s loo?”

“No clue,” Harry said with a shrug. “But it’s true. You need parseltongue to get in. And
probably also to get out again safely because right now the basilisk still lives in it.”

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate while Theo stared at Harry in obvious horror, face paling
at an alarming rate. “Did you say basilisk?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a sage nod. “A humongous, cranky, thousand-year-old basilisk. But
don’t worry. It’s asleep right now.” Harry frowned while trying to remember what all had
happened in his second year. He was quite sure it was the whole affair with the diary that had
woken the beast up. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s asleep.”
Theo swallowed and very carefully folded his hands on the table, pie completely forgotten.
“There is a 1000-year-old basilisk living somewhere in the castle, that’s probably sleeping,
and you expect me to be fine with this?”

“Er…” Harry blinked and stared at Theo, unsure what to say exactly. When you put it like
that, it did seem like a bit of an issue, that there was essentially a weapon of mass destruction
hidden under their school that could, in theory, go off at any moment and kill a whole bunch
of people by simply looking at them. “Yeah, now that I think on it, we might want to do
something about it.”

“You think?” Theo’s eyes were wide and urgent as he all but stared Harry down.

Harry gave Theo a solemn nod while wearing his best contrite expression. “I’ll talk to Tom
about it when he comes back.”

“Good.” Theo inhaled a few deep breaths and then went back to his pie. “Because I am going
to have a really hard time sleeping in that castle from now on so long as a basilisk lives in it
somewhere. Why on earth didn’t you mention this sooner? Preferably to the ministry before
the start of the schoolyear.”

“I forgot,” Harry mumbled, cheeks flushing. He was feeling rather foolish at that moment,
with how Theo was chewing him out over something Harry should have realized by himself.
“In my defence, before, I killed it in my second year, so it was never an issue after that.”

“You killed a basilisk in your second year,” Theo repeated slowly, incredulously. Then he
released a high-pitched, slightly hysterical sound.

“Yep, stabbed it through the roof of its mouth with the Sword of Gryffindor.” Harry had to
bite back a cackle at seeing Theo’s stunned look of utter disbelief. “The Sorting Hat helped.”

“That did not happen,” Theo insisted, shaking his head over and over again.

“Doesn’t your dad have a pensieve? I can show you the memory,” Harry offered.

Theo stared at Harry with large, unblinking eyes. “Yeah, all right, this I have to see, even
though that basilisk, if it exists and you’re not pulling an enormous prank here, will probably
give me nightmares for the rest of my life.”

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” Harry insisted.

It was that bad.

Harry was genuinely surprised how bad it actually was, now that he was a young adult
looking back at something that he’d done when he was twelve.

Theo stood beside him inside the memory while they watched a twelve-year-old Harry
stumble and bumble away from the enormous basilisk that was literally big enough to
swallow Harry whole.

“Fuck,” Theo breathed, sounding like he could barely suck in enough air. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Harry was forced to concede as he saw his tiny self pull a sword out of a floppy old
hat and hit the monster on the nose like the giant murder serpent was a disobedient dog that
had just tinkled on the carpet.

“Fuck,” Theo said again, his entire body rigid as he stood frozen to the ground beside Harry,
staring ahead with a grimace. When the basilisk bit Harry’s arm as Harry rammed the sword
through its head, Theo shrieked and jumped back a foot. “Fuck, Harry, it’s killed you!”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, because seeing his tiny self sit on the stone floor, slowly dying after
being bitten by a basilisk until Fawkes got off his feathery behind and healed him did drive
home a few truths for Harry.

He’d been an utterly ignorant, careless little fool his first life. He’d barely survived
encountering the basilisk, and only because Dumbledore had probably whispered into
Fawkes’ ear to help Harry whenever he needed it. Without that bird and the Sorting Hat,
Harry would have died, eaten whole by that great big bloody snake. Ginny would have died,
too, but Harry couldn’t care a whole lot about that anymore.

No, it was seeing the memory now, when Harry was eighteen and an adult, that he realized
how utterly insane his first life had been and how utterly uncaring the adults around him had
been about his adventures every year.

Why the hell hadn’t anyone questioned a twelve-year-old feeling the need to go take on a
thousand-year-old basilisk by himself? That wasn’t normal. Why hadn’t anyone raised a stink
when Harry returned beaten and broken and with a scar on his arm the size of a basilisk fang?
Dumbledore had insisted Harry come to his office before even sending him to the hospital
wing and no one had objected.

Harry knew the answer, of course. Because Dumbledore had wanted him to do these things.
Dumbledore had wanted to groom Harry to sacrifice himself over and over again, so that
when the time came and Harry truly needed to die, he’d do it without a second thought.

And Harry had.

Harry had walked to his own death when he was seventeen years old because all his life
everyone around him had encouraged him to give his own life over and over again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Theo muttered when they landed back in Dorus’ office. Harry quickly
pulled a shivering Theo with him to the leather sofa beside the large windows and sat Theo
down.

“Nestor,” Harry said, and when the house-elf appeared Harry asked quickly, “Could you get a
calming draught for Theo? And maybe some tea for us both.” Merlin knew Harry could use a
cuppa after seeing that shitshow.

As Harry held the vial to Theo’s lips and made sure he swallowed everything, he wanted to
kick himself for being stupid enough to let Theo see that memory. In his, very meagre,
defence, Harry honestly hadn’t realized how horrifying it would be to watch that memory,
especially not for an eleven-year-old boy.
 And while Theo was a clever and mature boy, he was still very much a child.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, his arm around Theo’s shoulders as Theo slowly but surely
stopped shivering. “I hadn’t realized how fucking terrifying that memory was to watch.”

Theo nodded, apparently unable to speak yet.

“I swear, we’re going to get rid of that snake as soon as possible,” Harry vowed and he
eventually poured them both a cup of tea and they stayed seated in Dorus’ office until Theo
no longer looked like he was about to keel over dead from acute stress as a little colour
returned to his face.

Not long after that, Dorus, Barty and Tom returned to the Manor and were apparently very
surprised to find Harry and Theo sitting in Dorus’ office, clinging to each other for dear life.

“Tom,” Harry said without his usual welcoming smile for his soulmate as the three men
entered the office. “We have to kill the basilisk.”

Chapter End Notes

The whole basilisk thing has always kinda bothered me, how utterly unconcerned
everyone is with it in canon, and in fanon. A basilisk is a magical weapon of mass-
destruction. One look of the bloody thing can kill dozens if not hundreds at once.
Imagine the basilisk entering the great hall when it's full of students and looking around.
The moment anyone realizes it lives in the school, everyone should want to immediately
fix that problem, no matter what.

I always enjoy writing Harry who slowly realizes all these things and does take action,
as he should. Now we need to see of course if Tom feels the same.
 Chapter 44
Chapter Summary

Tom does what's best eventually, even if he has to trick Harry to do it, and Harry
wonders what to get Tom for his birthday before coming up with an interesting idea.

Chapter Notes

Yes, I'm still alive and slowly getting back into writing after life kept me busy for a few
months. Mea culpa. I'm going over all my stories and I have plans to update all my
current WIPs, so bear with me as I do my best to get back into the swing of things.

And of course, just as I found the energy and time to write the next chapter for this story,
my computer started acting up, so the last half of his chapter was written under much
duress and with lots of frustration, but I was determined to get this chapter out today
because you've all been waiting long enough.

Thank you all for reading, and for sticking with this story for as long as you all have.
Your support and comments do help me to keep going, even if I need a break every once
in a while. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 44

“Basilisk?” Dorus asked, looking between Harry, Theo and Tom with a foreboding frown.
“What basilisk?”

Tom ignored his friend and instead glared at Harry. “We’re not killing Salazar Slytherin’s
basilisk. She’s hibernating. That’s all she does.”

“Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk?” Barty asked, visibly perking up at that revelation, while Dorus
narrowed his eyes and said, “And where is Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk currently?”

“Hogwarts,” Harry said when it became apparent Tom wasn’t quite so eager to answer that
question.

“Hogwarts!” Dorus all but yelled, while Barty turned to look at Tom with an utterly betrayed
look on his face.
“You mean to tell me there’s been a basilisk at Hogwarts since Slytherin’s time and you never
even bothered to document this? Or to officially study it?” Barty demanded while Tom
briefly looked down and rubbed a hand across his face in obvious frustration.

“Tom,” Dorus said with all the menace of a mother dragon whose offspring was just
threatened. “Tell me there isn’t currently a basilisk at Hogwarts.”

“She’s hidden in the Chamber of Secrets,” Tom said, both hands raised to ward off his
friend’s obvious fury. “She’s asleep. She’s old, Dorus, she’s not interested in hunting or
killing anyone.”

“Tell that to Myrtle Warren,” Harry felt compelled to point out because he knew from his
previous life that the basilisk was more than willing to hunt and kill with the right person
pulling her strings.

“That mudblood you killed?” Dorus said, eyes widening while he looked at Tom in utter
disbelief. “You used a Merlin-be-damned basilisk to kill that mudblood? And it’s still at
Hogwarts even now?”

“And you never studied it?” Barty added in just as much disbelief.

“No one can enter the Chamber of Secrets,” Tom valiantly tried to defend himself. “Unless
they’re a parselmouth.”

“But she can get out of it,” Harry said because he couldn’t believe Tom wasn’t taking this
seriously. Now that he’d seen the memory of his 12-year-old self fighting the murder serpent,
Harry himself wasn’t as eager to return to Hogwarts knowing that thing was in the castle
somewhere. “If she wanted to, she can leave that area through the pipes and explore the
whole fucking castle.”

“That thing needs to go,” Dorus said with a calmness that seemed entirely unnatural.

“I’m not killing Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk and that’s that,” Tom replied with a mulish look
while he crossed his arms.

“Look at the memory!” Theo yelled all of a sudden. He’d been completely silent up until that
point but now he was waving his hand frantically in the direction of the pensieve. “Just look
at it!”

“Whose memory is this?” Barty asked as he eagerly stepped up to the pensieve.

“Mine,” Harry said while leaning back in the couch. “You can all watch it as much as you
like but I won’t be joining you. Once was enough. Enjoy.”

While they both glared at the other, Dorus and Tom shuffled up to the pensieve as well until
they all surrounded the bowl and they lowered their faces until their bodies turned limp.

“Don’t worry,” Harry told Theo, who was trembling a bit again. “If Tom refused to take care
of the problem, I will.” Saying it like that made Harry seem far braver than he was, because
in reality he really, really did not want to face the basilisk ever again. Why he’d ever done it
as a 12-year-old was a mystery, though perhaps what had helped him along back then was the
fact that he had no idea what a basilisk really was, except for a large snake. But ‘large snake’
did nothing to describe the true size, strength and ferocity of a basilisk.

Many quiet moments later, Tom resurfaced, his face suddenly a few shades paler than before.
“Yes, fine, she needs to go.”

Dorus gave Tom a very knowing look while he obviously tried not to smirk. Barty seemed
rather disappointed by Tom’s decision, however.

“Can’t we place her elsewhere?” Barty asked while wringing his hands and giving Tom a
pleading look. “It’s a 1000-year-old basilisk. She should be preserved and studied, not
euthanised.”

“And where would you put her, knowing that a single look from the beast would kill anyone
around her?” Dorus said, not unreasonably. Barty frowned and then shrugged, not able to
come up with an answer for that dilemma.

“How are we getting into Hogwarts?” Harry asked, sitting up again while giving Theo a
comforting pat on his knee.

“We?” Tom asked with a tilt of his head. “You’re not coming, Harry.”

Harry puffed up with irritation. Tom was out of his mind if he thought he could keep Harry
out of this. “Of course I’m coming. You’re not doing this alone.”

“She knows me,” Tom tried to say in a reasonable tone, but his tight features betrayed his
frustration with the entire situation. “She’ll be calm when I wake her and she won’t attack
me. I cannot guarantee she won’t try to hurt you.”

“Then I’ll hang back,” Harry insisted as he got up from the sofa and glared at Tom. “But you
should have someone with you in case she turns on you should she figure out you’re there to
kill her.”

Tom’s expression went from deeply thoughtful to carefully blank within a few moments.
“Very well. I believe I might be able to apparate into the Chamber, since the last time I
checked out the Chamber the wards that encompass Hogwarts didn’t extend that far
underground.”

“Then we shall proceed to the apparition point,” Dorus said while gesturing at his office door.
The moment Tom agreed to get rid of the basilisk he’d calmed down and now seemed
entirely agreeable again to whatever plans Tom came up with. It was interesting to see,
though, that Dorus felt safe and confident enough to disagree with Tom in such an obvious
and aggressive way. It probably meant that as far as Dorus was concerned Voldemort was
truly dead and gone and Tom really was just his old classmate and friend.

Barty wasn’t quite there yet to argue so freely with his former Lord, if his disappointed
silence was any indication.
They all followed Dorus and Tom out of the Manor and onto the grounds to the apparition
point as dusk fell around them.

“I will examine the wards,” Tom said with a tight little nod at Harry.

“And then you’ll come back for me,” Harry insisted, but all Tom did was give him a tight
little nod again right before apparating away. Harry inhaled a deep breath, not liking Tom’s
response one bit but unsure exactly what it meant. Yes, he knew his soulmate better than
anyone, probably, but that didn’t mean that he was suddenly a psychic who knew exactly
what went on in Tom’s mind at all times.

After they’d been standing around staring at each other for what must at least be ten minutes,
Harry realized what was happening.

“That bastard,” Harry grumbled while his eyes widened in disbelief. “He’s not coming back
for me, is he?”

Dorus released a very amused chuckle. “I’m surprised you thought for one second he actually
would. Tom cares far too much about you to put you in such danger again.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure how to respond to that because on the
one hand he was ridiculously pissed off Tom had dumped him like that to continue the
mission on his own, but on the other hand he was also really touched that apparently Tom just
wanted to keep him safe because he cared. Still, Harry’s anger won out soon enough and he
tried to remember what the Chamber had looked like exactly and where inside of it he could
apparate to without endangering himself or Tom.

But before Harry could decide on an exact location, the woosh of a portkey announced the
arrival of Tom. And the basilisk.

“Wow,” Barty said, eyes wide as he stared at the enormous beast.

“Tell me it’s dead,” Dorus replied, his own eyes closed tightly while he had his hand pressed
against Theo’s face to cover his son’s eyes.

“It’s dead,” Tom said, obviously avoiding looking at Harry, even going so far as turning his
back on him.

“You utter tosser,” Harry hollered as he stormed up to his soulmate. “Have you completely
lost the plot?”

“Not at all,” Tom replied, cool as you please while he stared down at Harry with a blank face.
“I do apologize for deceiving you, but as you can see it was genuinely easier and quicker for
me to do it myself without endangering you in the process.” And then Tom raised his hand
and cupped Harry’s cheek, rubbing his thumb up and down a few times, and just like that
most of the wind left Harry’s sails and he deflated where he stood.

“Still,” Harry muttered, his cheeks heating under Tom’s soft touch. “It would be nice if you
just talked these things out instead of simply ignoring me.”
“Fair enough. And the next time I’ll do exactly that.” Tom gave him a little smile, and damn
it, Harry couldn’t tell if Tom actually meant that or if he’d just do the exact same thing again
in the future. Better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission and all that.

Stupid soulmate.

Then again, if Harry was honest with himself, which he really tried to be those days, if their
roles were reversed and Harry wanted to keep Tom safe he’d probably do the same thing and
just go about it alone.

“Fine,” Harry sighed and then looked around at everyone else. Barty was staring at the
basilisk the way Hagrid had once stared at a baby dragon. Dorus seemed mostly concerned
about what the dead carcass would do to his pristine lawn and Theo was using his father’s
body as a pillar to hide behind, though he did sneak a peek every now and then. “Why did
you bring it here?”

“It’s worth a fortune,” Tom said with a shrug, though he sounded utterly unapologetic. “I
wasn’t about to let something like that go to waste when it can fund us for probably the rest
of our lives.”

“Huh,” Harry said, frowning as he stared at the dead body of his once adversary. He’d killed
the stupid thing but he’d never realized it was actually worth money, and no one had thought
to point this out to him. Now Harry felt incredibly stupid for not realizing any of this sooner,
because he knew from his many Potions lessons that most any part of any magical animal
could be used in one or more potions, so a basilisk probably wasn’t an exception to that.

Tom’s look was slowly becoming sympathetic as apparently Harry’s revelations were obvious
for others to see. “Dumbledore probably didn’t want you to get your hands on a small fortune
so young. It might have given you ideas of independence that were inconvenient to
Dumbledore’s plans for you.”

“Hm.” Harry nodded slowly, though his chest still burned with a mild case of betrayal. “One
more thing the old bastard kept from me. I’ll just add it to the list.”

“That’s the spirit.” Tom’s smile was a teasing one, and Harry snorted in return but his mood
did improve.

“Can I at least document it before you cut it up?” Barty asked, voice hitching with worry.
“Maybe take some pictures? Dorus, you have a camera?”

“Yes, fine,” Tom said with an airy gesture.

“How about we retire for dinner now, since it’s getting dark and breaking down a beast like
this is probably best done in daylight,” Dorus said while softly pushing Theo towards the
Manor. “The body will keep for one night, I’m sure.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable,” Tom said while Barty crowed in triumph and looked like he
wanted to camp out beside the carcass all night.
Once they were all seated around the dining table in the conservatory and Nestor served them
some excellent Beef Wellington with mashed potatoes and gravy and several roasted root
vegetables, Barty gave Tom an utterly serious look.

“What else is hidden in the Chamber of Secrets?” Barty asked, fork forgotten in his mash.

Tom frowned in response while he glanced at Barty. “Nothing. I thoroughly explored the
place when I first found it. What else should there be?”

Barty released a quiet, disbelieving sound. “What else? Anything! Artefacts, jewellery,
books.”

“Books?” Tom now looked as though Barty had just said an utterly hilarious thing. “Who on
earth would store books in what is essentially a damp basement?”

“Didn’t Slytherin have heirs?” Dorus interjected while cutting his Beef Wellington in more
manageable pieces. “To leave his fortune to.”

“Yes,” Tom replied with a nod. “Slytherin had at least four children that we know of and it
stands to reason that he left all his worldly goods to them upon his death.”

“Then why did he build the chamber in the first place?” Theo asked quietly, the first thing
he’d said in ages. “It looked rather elaborate for a mere basement.”

“Excellent question,” Tom said with an approving nod in Theo’s direction. Then he sighed,
long and deep. “Once upon a time I would have parroted the belief that Slytherin left the
basilisk behind because he strongly believed in pureblood supremacy and wanted his
descendants to use it to get rid of muggleborns. But I no longer believe that.”

Harry swallowed his mouthful of parsnips and carrots and stared at Tom in disbelief. This
was news to him.

“Then what happened?” Barty all but demanded, leaning forward in anticipation.

“The diary that Harry gave me for Yule was written by an earlier descendant of Slytherin and
it proposed a most intriguing hypothesis.” Tom took the time to take a sip of his glass of red
wine while he glanced around the table. “Slytherin was a Potions Master and spent much of
his time experimenting with potions ingredients whenever he wasn’t teaching. He hatched the
basilisk for this reason and this reason alone, to use the accessible parts in his potions. But a
thousand years ago it wasn’t well understood yet that spending so much time hovering over a
cauldron containing experimental ingredients with unknown properties while inhaling the
fumes usually results in senile dementia after some decades.”

“That does sound entirely plausible,” Dorus agreed quickly before taking a bite of beef. He
chewed thoroughly while everyone stared at him until he swallowed and continued to
explain. “Even to this day potions-induced dementia is a real problem, no matter people use
shield charms and bubblehead charms and make sure there is adequate ventilation while
brewing, because even with all those precautions Potioneers still are four times as likely to
develop dementia and the normal potions used to treat it don’t work on potions-induced
dementia.”

“And potions-induced dementia leads to aggression and paranoia and the inability to reason
or to use common sense,” Tom agreed with a few nods. “It explains perfectly what happened
to Slytherin, why he had a falling out with the other Founders over something that had never
been a problem before. By all accounts, Slytherin was an elitist who firmly believed those
born to magical parents deserved better treatment but he never advocated for a muggleborn
genocide until much, much later in his life.”

“It certainly explains why he’d leave a basilisk of all things in a school full of children, the
majority being the kind of children Slytherin actually wanted to preserve,” Dorus added when
everyone else around the table sat in utter silence, absorbing all this new information.

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of any of this and at once he felt his very young age though
he hated to admit it. He never even knew brewing potions could cause you to lose your mind
in the most literal sense of the word. “Why is no one making a fuss about this?” he wondered
out loud. “If potions hurt that many people who brew them, I mean.”

Dorus sniffed and shook his head as though he found what he was about to say utterly
distasteful. “Because our society depends on potions and what is the loss of a few minds
compared to the common good of wizards and witches everywhere?”

“I had never thought of that before,” Barty muttered to himself while he seemed lost in
thought.

“Few do. Fewer still ever talk about it,” Tom agreed in a whisper before turning his attention
back to his meal.

The rest of the meal progressed in thoughtful silence as everyone processed all they’d
learned. Afterwards, Harry followed Tom up the stairs towards their rooms with no real plan
in his mind other than that he was exhausted and should probably retire early if they were to
break down an enormous basilisk the next day.

“Are you all right?” Harry thought to ask when they both reached their respective bedroom
doors. It couldn’t have been easy for Tom to kill the basilisk one way or the other.

Tom stared at the door in front of him for a moment, hand on the doorknob, before he
glanced sideways at Harry. “Want some tea?”

“Sure.” And with that Harry joined Tom in his sitting room while Dobby served them some
steaming cups of tea. “How did you…er…” Harry asked, unsure how to formulate that
question without sounding rude or uncaring.

“Euthanise her?” Tom guessed with a tilt of his head. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended in
the slightest. “I transfigured a rock into a rooster. I did talk to her briefly, but she barely woke
up, said she only wanted to sleep and to leave her be.”

“And so you gave her that, really,” Harry said with a thoughtful nod.
“She was very old and very tired.” Tom’s eyes narrowed for a second. “And very lonely.”

“Then you really did do her a kindness.”

“I suppose I did.” It seemed that it cost Tom more than usual to smile, but he did manage it.
“I haven’t even asked about your day yet. Are you enjoying your final days of your holiday?”

Harry stared at Tom while a quiet sense of horror washed over him. Tom just reminded him
that the winter holidays were almost over, which meant that New Year’s was just around the
corner, which meant that Tom’s birthday was soon.

The day after tomorrow.

And Harry didn’t have a gift.

Fuck.

“Er…yeah…I’ve been flying with Theo today, before we accidentally traumatized ourselves
by watching my memory of the murder serpent,” Harry finally managed to say when he
realized Tom was waiting for some sort of reply. Harry’s mind was otherwise drawing a
complete blank because Tom’s birthday was in two days and he didn’t have a fucking gift.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, much to Harry’s surprise. “I should have realized the basilisk posed a
very real risk and I brushed off your concerns. I am sorry for that, my dear.”

“It’s fine,” Harry blurted, barely able to process what Tom had just said. “I mean, yeah, you
brushed me off, but eventually you came around. It’s fine.”

“Thank you.” Tom covered his mouth with a hand to hide his yawn. “Barty and I have been
busy today at one of the vacant Selwyn properties, renewing the wards.”

“I should probably let you get some sleep,” Harry said and quickly finished his tea before
bidding Tom a good night.

But once Harry was washed and dressed in his pyjamas and snugly ensconced in his bed,
sleep refused to come, because Tom’s birthday was in two days and he didn’t have a fucking
gift.

Worse yet, he didn’t have a clue what to get Tom, either. He didn’t have any more family
heirlooms or interesting diaries lying around to wrap up and Tom was the kind of man who
cared little for meaningless trinkets, at least as far as Harry knew.

Harry barely got any sleep that night.

To the surprise of no one, Barty was up at the crack of dawn and armed with rolls of
parchment, several self-inking quills and Dorus’ camera, he spent hours documenting and
measuring and photographing the basilisk until Tom finally shooed him off to start cutting up
the carcass.
“We can spin it so that Thomas Gaunt and Barty Crouch killed the beast at some exotic
location,” Tom said to a bleary-eyed Harry who felt barely awake even if it was approaching
noon already. “That would help getting even more attention from potential future clients.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed while he quietly watched Tom skin the basilisk with slow, steady waves
of his wand.

Tom deserved to have his birthday celebrated properly and in Harry’s mind that meant that he
deserved a proper birthday gift, but Harry had no clue what to get him.

And here Tom had opened up his home to Harry, which he kept secret from everyone save for
his adopted sister-snake.

Frowning, something dawned on Harry. He had no home to show Tom, but perhaps he didn’t
need one. Perhaps he could do something else to give Tom a memorable birthday.

“I have to go,” Harry said, just as Tom got ready to carve out the venom glands. “Urgent
business.” And without giving Tom a chance to respond Harry turned on his heels and
hurried inside the Manor to the public fireplace to floo to Diagon Alley.

A few hours later he returned with lots of packages, which he immediately stored away in his
rooms before joining the rest outside. They’d made good progress and most of the carcass
had been broken down and stored away in boxes under plenty of preservation charms to be
sold later in small batches around the world.

“Tom,” Harry said, suddenly feeling surprisingly nervous. “Keep tomorrow evening free.”

Tom blinked at him, stilling his hand before cutting up more enormous ribs. “Tomorrow’s
New Year’s. Did you make plans for us?”

“Something like that,” Harry replied with a giddy little smile, nerves still coiling around his
stomach. What if Tom hated his plans? No, Harry couldn’t afford to go down that slippery
mental slope. He had a plan and he was going to make Tom’s birthday memorable.

And Tom was going to enjoy himself. He hoped.

Anyway, Harry had to go see an elf about a kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Harry was busy executing his birthday plans. Whenever he saw Tom
he couldn’t help that giddy little smile from forming and Harry was by now well aware that
Tom must be wondering if his soulmate had spontaneously lost his damned mind, but Harry
didn’t care.

The morning of Tom’s birthday, Harry was busy as well with finishing up all his birthday
projects and it wasn’t until after lunch that Harry spoke to his soulmate again.

“Be ready around five this afternoon. And bring a coat,” Harry said, while Tom merely
quirked an eyebrow in response before giving Harry a slow nod, his face giving nothing away
what he thought of Harry’s demands on his time.
Barty was in basilisk heaven, going over all his notes and writing an elaborate article about
the beast that he hoped to publish somewhere soon, and Harry didn’t think he even realized it
was New Year’s. And Dorus and Theo wouldn’t mind spending the evening together as a
small family, so Harry didn’t feel too bad about abandoning them so he could run off with
Tom for the evening.

Tom met him in the foyer at five on the dot, dressed in black trousers and a green jumper
with a thick wool cloak draped over his shoulders. Harry smiled up at him and guided him to
the apparition point.

Holding onto Tom’s hand, Harry apparated them both to the site he’d been preparing over the
last day.

They landed on the rocky shores of an inlet on the Scottish coast, dusk darkening everything
around them. A tent stood to the side, small on the outside but magically expanded inside.

Tom took everything in with a slight frown before giving Harry a questioning look.

Clearing his throat, Harry briefly looked down, scuffing his shoe against the rocks. “It’s your
birthday, so I wanted to do something special. Happy birthday, by the way.”

Tom’s face broke out in a smile with dimples and Harry was so immensely pleased to see
them that he promptly forget what else he wanted to say. “Thank you, my dear,” Tom said,
dimples slowly fading away again. “Though I’m a little unsure what to make of a beautiful
ocean view and a tent as far as birthday celebrations go.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Harry swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. “Hear me out. I wanted to give you
something to make your birthday memorable, but I didn’t have a gift and I couldn’t come up
with something, and you showed me your house, but I don’t have a house yet, but I did spend
a lot of time in a tent, which sort of became my house.” Harry paused to inhale a deep, deep
breath before he rambled on while Tom’s dimples had made a quick return as he stared down
at Harry. “So I figured I’d share one of my favourite camping spots with you. This is
Scotland, by the way, in case you were wondering.”

“I was, thank you.”

“There’s more.” Harry gently pulled on Tom’s hand and led him inside the tent, where a large
dining table filled with an elaborate dinner waited for them. “I cooked.”

Tom stopped in his tracks and looked from the feast before them to Harry and back. “Really?
You made all this?”

“Yep.” Some nervous tension left Harry’s chest now that he’d given his unorthodox present
to Tom, who seemed to like it all well enough. “You mentioned once that you’d never had
beef until you came to Hogwarts, so I made a nice prime rib roast with all the fixings.” Harry
gestured towards a side table where a decorated cake stood waiting. “And I baked you a
birthday cake, for afters.”
“This is…” Tom seemed at a loss for words as he took everything in. Eventually he settled on
pulling Harry a bit closer and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, my dear. This
is truly the finest birthday gift I’ve ever received.”

“I’m so glad you like it,” Harry said, sighing in utter relief. He waved his wand around at the
woodstove in the corner, getting the flames going to heat the tent.

“Where did you even get this tent?” Tom asked after they slipped out of their cloaks and sat
on opposite sides of the table, the food spread out between them.

“Bought it. Just got the first tent I found in Diagon Alley,” Harry said with a sheepish smile.
“I guess we can go camping now anytime we want to.” The tent was quite big on the inside,
with three separate sleeping areas, a complete kitchen area and a living area that came with
comfortable furniture. There was even a clawfoot tub in the bathroom.

Tom’s grin was wide and teasing as he looked at Harry. “You keep surprising me, my dear. I
don’t know if it’s your inner Gryffindor or your youthfulness, but you always keep me on my
toes one way or the other.”

“Good.” Harry felt entirely satisfied with that response. “Now, would you like some beef?
And some Yorkshire pudding?” And with that they started on all the excellent food Harry had
prepared while talking about this and that.

“This is truly delicious,” Tom said about halfway through the meal. “I didn’t even realize you
could cook like this.”

Harry shrugged, not meeting Tom’s gaze. “Aunt Petunia made sure I learned. She had very
high standards for her dinner parties.”

Tom’s gaze softened, but Harry quickly waved his concerns away. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have
had to learn all this as young as I was, but I am glad I know how to cook. And I really
enjoyed cooking for you, so…” Harry shrugged again and no more was said on that particular
painful part of Harry’s previous life.

After they’d each finished a generous serving of birthday cake, Harry indicated the bottle of
champagne sitting in a champagne cooler on the kitchen counter. “Kreacher insisted,” he said
by way of explanation.

Tom got up from the dining table and grabbed the bottle of champagne, while with his other
hand he summoned his cloak and wrapped it around himself. Harry got up as well and
manually put on his own cloak, not quite sure what fancy wandless magic Tom had just used
but determined to learn it himself sooner or later.

They left the tent and a sharp gust of icy air greeted them in the darkness outside. There was
hardly any wind and the skies were crystal clear but it was freezing cold. Harry’s breath
fogged up the air around him with every breath he took.

Tom transfigured a large rock into a comfortable stone bench and Harry sat down beside him
while Tom conjured two champagne glasses. There was enough light from the moon, which
was almost full, to see what they were doing, and Harry watched silently as Tom popped the
cork and poured them both a glass of bubbles.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said as he accepted the full glass Tom offered him. “I guess your
birthday is a good excuse to have a proper drink.”

“Sometimes I forget you are little more than a child,” Tom said, but not unkindly, while
sipping his own glass.

Harry still bristled a little, because he really didn’t like being reminded of his youth. “I am
eighteen, an adult.”

“Compared to me you really aren’t though,” Tom pointed out quietly. “I may not look it, but I
just turned 65.” When Harry had nothing to say to that, Tom looked at him for a long
moment. “I just want you to be sure, my dear.”

“Sure about what?” Harry asked, but he got the answer to that soon enough when Tom
pressed his lips to his in a soft kiss.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Tom’s lips tasted like sweet champagne, and then
Harry’s mind slowly melted into a puddle when Tom deepened their kiss, his tongue teasing
Harry’s own.

Harry wouldn’t be surprised if they’d kissed for hours, because it certainly felt like that, but
eventually Tom did pull back with a dimpled smile.

“I have given us some thought,” Tom said quietly while Harry blinked at him, lost in a warm,
tingly daze. “And I realized that it seems silly to deny our relationship when we act like a
couple already anyway.”

“Wait,” Harry said, inhaling a few deep, chilly breaths to snap himself out of the glowing
cloud that had slowly engulfed him by way of Tom’s lips. “Do you mean that we’re now
together?”

Tom chuckled at Harry’s wide-eyed expression. “Were we ever not, my dear?”

Snorting, Harry shook his head and sipped his champagne, cheeks heating as reality slowly
sank in. Tom had just acknowledged they were in a relationship, Harry was pretty sure.
“Well,” Harry eventually replied, because he couldn’t help tease his soulmate a little. “There
were times when you seemed to have trouble communicating your intensions. I never got the
impression that our relationship was going anywhere when you were stuck on Quirrell’s
head. Or that time you introduced me to your Death Eaters in the cemetery.”

Tom rolled his eyes and in response kissed Harry again, which Harry thought was an
excellent way to shut him up, really, Tom should try that more often. Their lips moved
together and their tongues danced slowly and they didn’t pull back this time until fireworks
erupted high in the sky above the dark inlet, coming from the muggle town on the opposite
shore.
“Happy new year, my dear,” Tom whispered against Harry’s lips.

“Happy new year.” Harry held up his glass of champagne until Tom clinked his own glass
against it and they both took a few sips.

Releasing a deep, contented sigh, Harry looked from the fireworks to Tom and back. He
didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy before. It wasn’t even a complicated feeling. Just quiet
and warm happiness from sitting beside the person he loved most in the world while they
shared a lovely evening of good food and even better company.

“Ugh,” Harry sighed as he just realized this night wouldn’t last. “I have to go back to
Hogwarts in two days.”

“You don’t have to,” Tom said softly in between sipping his glass.

“Huh?” Harry glanced at him, wondering what Tom was trying to say.

“You don’t have to go back.” Tom pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips before looking him in
the eyes. “Stay.”
 Chapter 45
Chapter Summary

Harry faces temptation, learns something very important about Tom, spends an
afternoon watching home-movies with friends, before Barty reminds him he still has one
job to do.

Chapter Notes

I realized that last chapter we officially crossed 200k words for this fic. And we're still
going strong, with no end in sight. Ah well. As long as everyone is having fun, right? I
sure am, and I hope you are all, too.

Thanks for reading, and for supporting this story, and for letting me know how much
you all love it. Reading all your comments keeps me inspired more than anything else.
Let me know what you think!

Chapter 45

Oh boy.

Oh boy, oh boy.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been more tempted with anything in either of his lives.

He could see it, what would happen if he stayed. They’d move into Tom’s secret farmhouse,
spend their early mornings in that cosy kitchen, afternoons in the library, organizing all the
books they’d recently procured, and evenings cuddled up on the sofa in the sitting room, a
warm fire crackling in the fireplace. They’d drink tea and talk about their plans and
eventually they’d end up snogging before moving to the bedroom they shared so they could
explore each other’s bodies as much as they liked before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, a sharp longing for just such a life developing rapidly in his chest.
“Fuck, fuck.”

But somewhere deep in Harry there was a part that knew Harry had unfinished business at
Hogwarts, that he had lots of work there left to do, and that their shared lives would have to
wait.
“I’m so tempted right now,” Harry finally managed to say before he swallowed away his
regrets.

“But?” Tom asked, leaning so close to Harry, his warm breath ghosted across Harry’s cold
cheek.

“But I’ve still got stuff to do at Hogwarts.” Harry looked at Tom, tried to strip away any
masks and offer himself up as honestly as he could. “I want to be with you, share my life with
you in every way I can think of, I promise.”

Tom slowly nodded, a resigned smile appearing on his face. “I understand, my dear.” Tom
released a deep sigh. “Ah well, it was worth a shot. We’ll just take it easy and see each other
again during the spring holidays.”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” Harry agreed as he leaned against Tom’s body while Tom wrapped an
arm around his shoulders to pull him even closer. They stayed like that, in each other’s arms,
for a good long while as the fireworks across the water died down and the night became quiet
once again.

Harry couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering to that imaginary scenario, though, of him
living with Tom in that amazing farm house. What would they do with their time together?
Especially their private time together.

Harry was a clueless little virgin who’d only graduated from the School of Wanking so far.
He wondered what sort of sex Tom had experienced in his previous life. Harry didn’t think
Tom had gotten any so far during their second life, but then again, you never knew.

A bit alarmed by those thoughts, Harry sat up a little and turned his head so he could look
Tom in the eye. “I… er…you know, er… I’ve never had sex before.”

Tom was smiling with dimples again as he looked down at Harry, and at once Harry was glad
it was night so Tom couldn’t see his blushing face, which frankly felt like it was about to
burst into flames.

“What I was getting at,” Harry continued, feeling a bit more confident now that Tom hadn’t
burst into hysterical laughter or something, “Er… what about you? Did you have many
relationships before?”

“No,” Tom said without hesitation. “By the time adolescents usually start desiring a partner,
I’d already made my first horcrux, which significantly lessened my libido.”

Harry was quite amazed Tom could talk about such private subjects so frankly, but perhaps
that was also because of their differences in maturity.

“I had some liaisons during Hogwarts, and afterwards, but they were never any committed
relationships because I was far too busy plotting to take over the world for such things.” Tom
chuckled in a rather rueful way. “And then I made so many horcruxes that my libido
disappeared entirely, and I couldn’t even be bothered with sex anymore.” Tom gave Harry an
expectant look. “And after my resurrection, when I returned in my serpentine visage, I
actually lacked functional genitals.”

Harry blinked. And then he blinked again. And then he started worrying. “Okay…that’s…
but they’re complete now, right?”

Tom laughed right in Harry’s flustered face. “Yes, my dear. My cock is functioning and ready
for action.”

“Good, good,” Harry mumbled, quickly burying his face in Tom’s shoulder while a familiar
feeling started building in his lower belly as his face was still ready to ignite. “That’s good.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Harry,” Tom said in a more serious tone now while he stroked his
fingers through Harry’s hair. “Just know that I’m happy to take this slow. In fact, I believe
that would be in both of our best interest.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “We’re not in a rush, now are we?”

“Not at all. We’ve got the rest of our lives to figure all of this out.”

And Harry was so happy to hear that he looked up again and pressed his lips to Tom’s, who
deepened their kiss almost at once. While they snogged, lips and tongues moving nice and
slow and deep, Harry wanted to pull back for a moment just so he could do a happy little
dance at the knowledge that from that moment on, whenever he wanted (and Tom wanted it
too, of course) he could now kiss Tom, and he could from then on kiss Tom for the rest of his
life.

That thought alone made Harry glow with happiness, that all this was going to be his forever
and ever.

Eventually they pulled back and finished their freezing glasses of champagne, which they’d
both almost forgotten about.

“We should probably head back,” Harry said with real regret in his voice. But his eyes were
starting to droop and he was genuinely tired from the couple of exciting days they’d had
recently.

“Let’s make this a tradition,” Tom said as they both got up. “Let’s from now on, on our
birthdays, go somewhere together. Have a nice meal, something good to drink, and spend
time together.”

Harry beamed up at Tom while he got an oddly sappy feeling in his chest. “Yeah, that sounds
perfect.”

Tom sealed their future plans with a simple kiss, and then Harry used his wand to pack up the
tent before Tom apparated them both back to Nott Manor.

They walked through the dark, quiet house together before they stopped in front of the door
to Harry’s suite.
“This was genuinely the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Tom said with a bit of a crooked smile.
“Thank you, my dear.”

“I’m really glad you liked it,” Harry said with a relieved sigh. He had been worried Tom
wouldn’t be impressed by Harry’s rather strange plans, but it seemed Tom was honestly
happy with how the evening had progressed.

Harry was so, so tempted to grab Tom’s hand and pull him into his bedroom, but he also
knew that whatever happened next would be awkward and overwhelming and that they were
better off waiting for a bit, get used to being in a relationship that was already fraught with
pitfalls.

Because Harry made himself no illusions that this new relationship was going to be easy.
There was a huge age difference between him and Tom, they had been enemies in the past
and caused each other enormous amounts of pain and grief, Tom’s new identity which Harry
would publicly have to acknowledge as his partner when he was older was entirely based on
a lie, and Dumbledore and his cronies still expected Harry to one day kill Tom.

Yeah, they had made their intentions clear to each other but the future was still far from set in
stone when it came to their lives together.

“Good night,” Harry whispered, pressing one last kiss to Tom’s lips before taking a step back.

“Sleep well.” Tom smiled and ducked his head before walking to his own rooms.

Thankfully, Harry was tired enough that he did fall asleep quickly and immediately found
himself in the glowing embrace of Tom’s soul. And for some reason, that glow, which was
always nice and warm, grew hotter and hotter as they curled around each other, and pleasure
built between them in ways that had never happened before.

When Harry woke up the next morning, his underwear was sticky.

“What the hell.” Harry fell back against his pillow with a groan when he realized he’d
somehow shared a wet dream with Tom from rubbing their souls together. Or maybe it had
been just him, and Tom was none the wiser. Harry really, really hoped that was the case.

“Did you sleep well, my dear?” Tom asked with a knowing glint in his eyes the moment
Harry entered the conservatory for breakfast.

Barty, Dorus and Theo were already seated around the round table so Harry did his very best
to remain cool and collected.

Stupid soulmate.

“You know, the usual,” Harry said in the airiest tone he could manage even though he felt his
cheeks warm a bit. “Happy New Year, everyone.”

Harry received a chorus of Happy New Years in return.

“I thought we could exchange a few memories this morning,” Tom said, eyes narrowed in
clear amusement as Harry sat down beside him. “You owe me the one from Dumbledore
spilling coffee all over himself.”

“That was hilarious,” Theo said with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed and then nodded at Tom while he spooned some scrambled eggs on his
plate.

“Looking forward to going back to Hogwarts tomorrow?” Barty asked while sipping a cup of
tea.

Harry shrugged. “Sure, it’ll be nice to go back. But I’ve also loved the holidays. Really
needed them.” And wasn’t that the truth. So much had happened already, in such a short
amount of time. Harry felt like years and years had passed since his return from death, but it
had only been five months. He’d really needed a break, but he was happy to note that he did
feel more relaxed now than he had at the start of the holidays, so that was good.

“So when are you going to steal the Philosopher’s Stone?” Barty asked conversationally.

Theo choked on a bite of sausage and started coughing violently while Dorus dropped the
Daily prophet, which he held in one hand, in his plate of eggs.

“What?” Theo asked while rubbing at his watery eyes. “You’re going to steal the what now?”

Harry licked his lips while he slowly looked around the table. “Dumbledore is hiding the
Philosopher’s Stone at Hogwarts, I’m pretty sure.”

“It might be a fake, though,” Barty was quick to point out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry conceded with an impatient wave of his hand. “It might be a fake, but
we won’t know that until I steal it.” Quite frankly, Harry was glad Barty reminded him of that
particular job because he’d already forgotten about it. And wouldn’t that have been hilarious,
if Harry finished his first year and during the first day of the summer holidays finally
remembered that he’d meant to steal the stone. Oops.

“Is that what you did in your previous life?” Theo asked just a little breathlessly while he
looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Steal the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Nah,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “In my first life I stopped Tom from stealing it.
That’s how I know how to bypass all the protections around it.” At least, Harry thought he
remembered all the protections. It had been quite a long time ago, though. Perhaps he would
do well to make a list or something, write down all he could remember to make sure he
wouldn’t forget something important.

“Can I help?” Theo asked with the same level of enthusiasm as an overeager puppy.

“Absolutely not!” Dorus barked, glaring at Harry in a way that meant that should one hair on
his son’s head be damaged, Dorus would take it out of Harry’s hide personally.
“Remember that giant three-headed dog, that Cerberus?” Harry asked while giving Theo a
sympathetic smile. “That was part of the stone’s protections. Maybe you should sit this one
out.”

Tom had been looking at Harry the entire time with a small, amused little smile on his face.
“We can add that memory to the ones we’ll be watching later,” Tom suggested. “Make sure
you’ve got a good plan for going after the stone.”

Harry shrugged, though he was pleased by Tom’s offer. “All right.”

“Can I at least see the memory?” Theo asked in a pleading voice.

“I’d like to see it, too,” Barty was quick to jump in.

“Fine,” Harry said, and quickly added for Dorus’ sake, “It’s not nearly as scary as the basilisk
memory. Theo should be fine.”

Theo wasn’t fine.

“Sweet Merlin, that Cerberus is a lot bigger than I thought it would be!”

“Is that Devil’s Snare? Stop moving!”

“Is that blood? Did those keys actually cut you, Harry?”

“Wait… did that chess piece just murder Weasley?”

“Good thing that troll is already down or it would have beaten you into pulp.”

“Are you drinking an unidentified potion? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“Is Quirrell trying to steal the stone? I thought you were saying Snape was behind it. Oh shit,
Harry, duck.”

Harry sighed as he stood surrounded by Tom, Barty and Dorus while Theo did is very best
not to hyperventilate while they watched the confrontation between Harry and Quirrellmort.

Dorus kept giving Harry narrow-eyed glances and Harry said, not for the first time, “It’s not
as bad as the basilisk.”

“It’s not, Dad,” Theo was quick to defend his friend. “It’s fine… is that the Dark Lord
sticking out of Quirrell’s head?” Theo immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and gave
Tom a wary glance.

“I admit, not my finest moment,” Tom said in a droll voice. “Please remember I was utterly
insane.”

Theo gasped. “Did Quirrell just turn to dust? Harry, did you kill him?”
Harry swallowed as he looked down at his friend. “Yeah, kind of. But I had no recollection of
this and I woke up in the hospital wing.” The memory turned to utter darkness the moment
memory Harry fell to the stone floor. In seconds they were all standing in Dorus’ office
again.

“Those were not the real protections,” Barty muttered with a shake of his head as though he
couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. “Dumbledore did not stick the world’s most
sought-after magical artifact in a school full of children with protections that a fucking
toddler could walk through.”

“Well, not perhaps a toddler,” Tom said with an amused look directed at Barty. “But certainly
a few first-years.”

“It was a set-up,” Dorus concluded with a firm nod while he sat down on the sofa in his
office, pulling Theo down with him. Theo did look a little pale but he was in much better
condition than after the basilisk memory. “That had to be a set-up.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a tired little sigh. “Dumbledore was testing me, putting me in front
of Voldemort to see what would happen.”

“I can’t believe he would risk the Philosopher’s Stone for that,” Barty said, still sounding
firmly in denial.

“To be fair, Quirrell and Voldemort were unable to get the stone from the Mirror of Erised,”
Harry pointed out, and then he glanced down at his shoes. “Of course, then I accidentally got
the stone out and mucked it all up.”

“Be that as it may,” Dorus said while looking between the others as though he was
disappointed in their conclusions. “Did it never occur to you at that time that perhaps the
stone was well hidden in the mirror, but that someone could have just loaded the whole
mirror in an expanded trunk, taken it home and then spent the next few years figuring out
how to get the stone out again?”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and yet he couldn’t think of a single thing to
say to that. It had honestly never crossed his mind that someone could have just stolen the
whole mirror and be done with it.

“Tom, you’re such a clever boy,” Dorus said, his tone obviously teasing. “Just not always
clever enough, I suppose.”

Tom had a look on his face as if he’d just downed a glass of lemon juice. Harry burst out in
laughter when he looked at his soulmate.

“Like I said,” Tom grumbled while sticking his nose in the air. “I was insane, and I wasn’t
thinking clearly. My cognitive abilities had obviously been diminished.”

“That’s a lot of words for saying you didn’t think of the most obvious and logical solution,”
Dorus couldn’t resist pointing out.
“Seriously though,” Barty said after the general hilarity had died down. “Harry, that looked
far too simple. It could be Dumbledore had some protections hidden that you missed. Be on
your guard when going after the stone this time.”

“Barty has a point,” Tom said when Harry tried to object. “Take your time investigating the
protections. Don’t assume you know exactly what they are.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said because he didn’t want to worry his soulmate, and Barty
probably did have a good point. Harry planned to explore the third corridor at his leisure once
he was back at Hogwarts and just take it from there. Now that Fluffy was gone, Harry had no
idea if Dumbledore had replaced him with something else, so he had to check that out to
begin with.

“Now let’s see Dumbledore react to the news of my return,” Tom said, and Harry got his
wand out so he could pull that memory out of his head.

They spent the rest of the morning watching memories, with Tom cackling when he saw
Dumbledore dump a cup of coffee all over himself, and Harry found himself in stitches at the
look on Lockhart’s face when his obliviates didn’t work on Tom and Barty. Harry kept
giggling hysterically all the way through the part where Lockhart was led away by two
Aurors.

Then just the cheer Theo up and amuse Barty, Harry shared the memory of Barty as Moody
turning Draco into a ferret, which had the three of them howling with laughter while Dorus
and Tom rolled their eyes but still couldn’t hold back amused smiles.

After an excellent lunch of steak and mushroom pies with a gooseberry fool for dessert, Theo
announced that he was going to start packing, since they were leaving for Hogwarts the next
morning.

It rather hit Harry around the ears that he had lots of packing to do, too, namely sort through
the mountain of gifts he’d received for Yule. Something of the alarm he felt must have shown
on his face because Tom leaned closer and whispered, “Want some help?”

Yes, yes, Harry did want some ‘help.’

The moment Tom stepped through his bedroom door, Harry pulled him closer and crushed
his lips to Tom’s just to see if he could. Harry was pretty certain that the previous night
hadn’t been a dream, but you never knew, so he wanted to be sure if he was still allowed to
snog Tom whenever he felt like it.

Apparently the answer to that was an enthusiastic yes. Tom pulled him closer and deepened
their kiss and they stood snogging for a good few minutes until Tom pulled back, licking his
lips. “As much as I like to continue this, you really do have a small mountain of work ahead
of you. Let’s get started on that first.”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry sighed, and then placed one last quick kiss on Tom’s lips before hurrying
into the bedroom where every available surface was still covered by all the stuff he’d
received.
Harry got his wand out and looked around. “I was thinking of donating all those plushies to
St Mungo’s, for the kids’ ward, but I cannot guarantee they’re not cursed or something.”

Tom nodded his understanding as he stepped up beside Harry and surveyed the room with a
critical eyes. “Perhaps sell them to a second-hand store. They always thoroughly check their
merchandise for hexes and curses and such.”

“Kreacher!”

“Little Master called?” Kreacher said the moment he popped into the room.

“I’ve got a job for you for the coming days,” Harry said while Kreacher looked up at him
eagerly. “Sell all the stuff I’ve got no use for to the appropriate second-hand stores in Diagon
Alley. Are you up for that?”

“Kreacher will bargain for the very best deals!”

“Excellent.” And with that, Harry waved his wand around and piled all the plushies at
Kreacher’s feet.

There were also some other kids’ items that Harry had no interest in, such as gobstones and a
whole pile of Zonko products. Harry considered giving them to his friends, who would
certainly appreciate them, but he again couldn’t guarantee they weren’t hexed, so instead he
piled them at Kreacher’s feet as well.

He did the same with a few articles of clothing that were far too conservative of a style for his
tastes.

Tom, in the meantime, thoroughly checked all of the stationary, quills and fancy inkbottles
Harry had received and deemed them safe. Harry appreciated these items, since he always
had need of them.

Finally all that remained were the piles of books.

“You’re not getting rid of these,” Tom said with a warning in his voice.

“Of course not,” Harry agreed quickly. “I thought I’d just add them to our library.”

Tom tilted his head a little as a smile appeared on his face. No dimples, but it was a close
thing, Harry was sure. “Our library?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “The books I got from the Room of
Requirement, the whole Black library Kreacher copied, and now these books. That’s like…
starting a library together, right?”

Now the dimples made an appearance as Tom gave him a ridiculously fond look. “Ah yes,
that’s how it begins, doesn’t it? Starting a library together. Next thing you’ll be wanting to
buy matching owls and pick out my robes for me and –”
Harry gave Tom a playful slap on his arm while his own cheeks burned, but with what he
wasn’t sure. “Shut up.”

Tom’s look was nothing short of a challenge. “Make me.”

And Harry did. He jumped Tom with so much force they toppled backwards into the pile of
plushies and Harry didn’t give Tom a chance to say a single words before attacking his mouth
with his own. Tom chuckled all the way through their kiss but still wound his arms around
Harry’s body and held him close.

Kreacher stood to the side and shook his head. “Masters be making a mess.”

Harry came up for air long enough to yell, “Kreacher, dismissed!” before he went back in
again for a thorough snog.

When they arrived at dinner some hours later they both looked a little dishevelled and Harry
didn’t think he’d ever felt that giddy before. For fuck’s sake, he felt like giggling every five
minutes or so. It was ridiculous.

Then again, even Tom hadn’t stopped smiling all afternoon, so apparently Harry wasn’t the
only one suffering from whatever the fuck was happening to them.

Theo had the honour of choosing their dinner, since it was their farewell party before
returning to Hogwarts, and they enjoyed a delicious leg of lamb with mint sauce, with
potatoes au gratin and carrots and peas, with an elaborate chocolate cake for afters.

After dinner they gathered in one of the sitting rooms for tea and coffee, while they chatted
about the upcoming semester and other benign topics, and it was a very nice feeling, to spend
such an evening together with friends before they would be separated again.

Harry didn’t invite Tom into his bedroom later that evening, because now was really not the
time to spend the night together for the first time. There would be plenty of opportunity for
that in the future.

“We should say our goodbyes now,” Tom whispered as they stood pressed together, arms
around each other.

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned at Tom, wondering if he wouldn’t be there to see him
off to Hogwarts the next day.

Tom slowly shook his head, though if it was in disbelief or indulgence, Harry wasn’t sure.
“Tomorrow morning you’re taking the antidote for the aging potion and I’m not snogging
you when you look eleven, my dear.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He’d completely forgotten about that. “Yeah, you’re right. Best not to
lose any time then.” And Harry went in for another elaborate kiss.

Tom went with it for a few moments before pulling back. “We’ll see each other again in a
little over two months. Dorus has already invited us both to stay here again, so you can use
the same excuse as you did now, that you’re staying with a schoolfriend.”
“I know,” Harry sighed, burying his face in Tom’s neck, inhaling his scent. “I’m going to
miss you, though.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But we’ll talk every day, like we’ve been doing.” Tom allowed Harry
another five minutes of snogging and then it really was time to call it a night.

The next morning, Harry allowed himself one last shower as an adult, which meant he could
have a quick wank as well while he remembered the feeling of Tom’s lips on his own, and
after he dried himself off he took the antidote and suffered through the not-quite-painful
sensation of shrinking about a foot.

And then he was eleven again and hating every second of it, but it was the price he had to pay
for returning to Hogwarts. Kreacher came to clear all the things that had to be sold, while
Dobby picked up all the books to add to their growing library, and then Harry shrunk his
trunk and stuffed it in his pocket and slung his bag over his shoulder.

They had a quiet breakfast together and afterwards Nestor provided both Theo and Harry a
packed lunch for the journey to school.

“We’ll speak tonight,” Tom said, keeping his distance a little from Harry, at least compared to
how affectionate he’d been the previous few days. Harry couldn’t blame him, though. It must
be weird for Tom to see him as a child again. It certainly was weird for Harry to be a child
again.

Dorus urged them into the fireplace to floo to the station and Harry gave Tom one last wave
before he stepped into the green flames. The station was packed, and Theo and Harry stayed
close to Dorus as they walked to the Hogwarts Express.

“Have a good term, Theo,” Dorus said while giving Theo’s shoulder a squeeze. “Harry, it was
a pleasure having you. Be sure to return for Ostara.”

“Thanks for letting me stay. I’ll be happy to come back in the spring.” Harry shook Dorus’
hand and then he and Theo made their way onto the crowded train.

Thankfully Susan and Hannah had found a compartment already, and Theo and Harry sat
down opposite them. Neville followed just a minute later, with Blaise not long after that.
Ernie and Justin squeezed into the compartment five minutes later, with Daphne and Tracey
brining up the rear just before the train was about to leave.

Everyone talked over everyone else to share their holiday adventures and all the gifts they’d
had, and Harry talked about his new broom and Theo added how they’d raced it around the
Manor, and they had barely left London when there was a knock on the door.

A Ravenclaw student, probably a fourth or fifth year, gave them all bright smiles while
holding out a few pamphlets to take. “Hi, I’m Romy Whitworth, and I’m running for the
Board of Students this year. Please consider me for your votes. Thanks!”

Harry glanced down at the pamphlet in his hand, unable to hold back a smile. It seemed that
his distribution of the Hogwarts book of rules and regulations was already changing things.
There probably hadn’t been a Board of Students since Dumbledore became headmaster and
did away with those pesky rules entirely.

Throughout the journey more students came to announce they were running for the Board of
Students. A few more Ravenclaws, a couple of Slytherins, three Hufflepuffs and two
Gryffindors. By the end of the day they all had a small stack of pamphlets, detailing the
students’ profiles and what they wanted to see improved at Hogwarts.

The welcoming feast was as usual, with amazing food and much noise, and Harry let it all
happen as he tried to adjust to being eleven again, at least physically. Dumbledore sat in his
customary centre seat, but he ignored Harry entirely.

While they walked down to the dungeons, Harry realized that in his previous first year,
during the holidays, Harry had his encounter with the Mirror of Erised. Was that why
Dumbledore had been determined to keep Harry at Hogwarts this time? To make sure Harry
came into contact with that blasted mirror, so Dumbledore could then put the stone in and
move it beyond the protections?

Harry wasn’t sure if that was the case, but he did think it might be a good idea to go look for
the mirror anyway, to keep as much of the original timeline intact, at least when it came to
the stone.

So after everyone had gone to bed, after much bragging from Draco about all the many
wonderful and expensive gifts he’d received, and what was pretty much a repeat of his
endless monologue during the Yule party, Harry got his invisibility cloak out and snuck out of
the dormitory. He wasn’t quite sure anymore where he’d actually seen the mirror in his first
life, so he just quietly opened classroom after classroom until he saw the blasted thing
standing there in the shadows.

Well, it seemed Dumbledore did indeed still wanted Harry to come across it. Harry kept
himself hidden under his cloak and slipped his wand in his hand while casting a silent
homenum revelio, which came back empty so Dumbledore wasn’t hiding in a corner
somewhere.

Slipping the cloak off his head, Harry stepped in front of the mirror, sure of what he would
see.

There he was, an adult Harry with Tom by his side, their friends around them, with Tom’s
cosy farmhouse in the background. Harry smiled and thought about stealing the Philosopher’s
Stone so he wouldn’t get lost in that wonderful vision before him. Then again, Harry knew
that vision would eventually come true. He was sure of it, Philosopher’s Stone or not.

Suddenly, the vision changed, and only adult Harry remained. Adult Harry winked at Harry
before bringing his hand up, showing off the red rock he held.

No. That wasn’t possible.

Didn’t Dumbledore stick the stone in the mirror later? Now that he thought about it, Harry
wasn’t actually sure when that had happened in his first life.
Mirror Harry winked again and stuck his hand, stone and all, in his pocket and Harry felt a
weight in his pyjama pocket at once and he had to clap a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t
descend into hysterical laughter.

It couldn’t be that easy!

Still, Harry wasn’t tempting fate, and he quickly ducked under his cloak again and hurried
back to the dungeons as fast as he could without alerting anyone to his presence.

Once back in his dormitory and safely hidden behind his warded curtains, Harry pulled the
stone out of his pocket and examined it. The thing was red and shiny and, Harry was sure, the
exact same stone he’d held in his first life. How had he been able to pull it out of the mirror,
though, when he clearly was trying to steal it?

Ah, yeah, Harry remembered now. Only those that weren’t going to use it could take it from
the mirror, or something Dumbledore-ish like that. And Harry had no plans to use it. He just
wanted to steal it to stick it to Dumbledore for setting an eleven-year-old up against a Dark
Lord just to see if the kid would survive or not.

“Kreacher!”

Harry’s house-elf appeared in a few seconds and Harry held out the stone for Kreacher to
take. “Please take this to Tom right away and ask him to see if it’s the real thing.”

“Kreacher will.” With a pop, Kreacher was gone.

Harry fell back against his mattress and finally let loose the laughter that had been bubbling
inside his belly ever since he’d gotten the stone. He could not believe how easy that had
been.

Nor could he wait for Tom’s reaction.

 Chapter 46
Chapter Summary

Harry talks with Tom and Barty, finds out if the stone is real or not, despairs at Hogwarts
life, and is as surprised as everyone else at the pair of unexpected visitors.

Chapter Notes

Yes, finally a new chapter for this epic story. A slightly shorter chapter than usual, but I
didn't have more time to write and I liked where it ended.

I can't believe we're already well over 200k words and we're barely past the winter
holidays in Harry's first year. I do plan to do some more time skips in the future, but
there is simply a lot of ground to cover when writing a do-over story of this magnitude.
Not that I'm complainings, because I still adore writing this story.

Thanks to all of you for reading and for sticking with this story for as long as you all
have (almost two years now). Your comments keep me inspired to write more even after
all this time. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 46

Harry lay on his bed, huge smile still on his face, mirror in his hand, just basking in this
unexpected success for no more than ten minutes before the mirror started glowing.

Sitting up, Harry opened the mirror at once. “And?” Harry asked a visibly excited Tom and
Barty, as both their heads were squeezed in the tiny frame.

“It’s magical!” Barty said with an enormous grin.

Tom looked equally chuffed but he obviously didn’t want to draw any permanent conclusions
just yet. “All we know right now is that it’s definitely a magical artifact. Whether it’s the
actual Philosopher’s Stone capable of creating the Elixir of Life remains to be seen.”

“Sure, sure,” Barty agreed with a few quick nods. “We’ll have to test it extensively, but the
fact that it’s a magical artifact and not some transfigured rock is fascinating in and of itself.”

“How did you get it so quickly?” Tom asked, eyes widening enough that he actually looked a
bit worried aside from pleasantly surprised.
Harry shrugged helplessly and then bent double as he was overcome with a bout of giggles
once again. “I went to look for the Mirror of Erised,” Harry said once he caught his breath. “I
remembered that in my first life I found it during the winter holidays.” Harry sobered a little
and narrowed his eyes at the two other men. “That’s also probably why Dumbledore wanted
me at Hogwarts. It was always his intention for me to accidentally discover the mirror, so I
wouldn’t get caught by the magical illusion of it once I encountered it again during a
confrontation with Voldemort.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Barty agreed quietly while Tom got a chagrined look on his face.

“Even now, when there is no sign of me anywhere near Hogwarts, that old fool is determined
to see his little schemes concerning you through,” Tom muttered with a dark frown.

“Yeah, but I’m not the naïve little idiot I was in my first life,” Harry felt compelled to point
out. “Anyway, I found the mirror in an abandoned classroom, just like last time. And when I
looked in it, my reflection was holding the stone and put it in his pocket. At that moment, the
stone appeared in my pocket and I ran all the way back to my dorms and had Kreacher bring
it straight to you.” Harry briefly pursed his lips while gathered his thoughts. “I always
assumed that Dumbledore didn’t put the stone in the mirror until after he moved it, but it
seems I was wrong about that.”

“Or maybe he put it in only very recently,” Barty said, which made sense to Harry. “And he
was waiting for you to discover it the moment you got back from the holidays.”

“I wonder how long it will be before Dumbledore discovers it’s been stolen,” Tom said with a
smirk that was full of dark satisfaction.

“I didn’t notice any charms or something that would have raised the alarm,” Harry pointed
out with an equally satisfied grin. “Then again, I didn’t stick around the moment I realized I
had the stone.”

“You’ll notice soon enough by the large amount of Aurors suddenly turning Hogwarts upside
down,” Barty said, but Harry immediately shook his head.

“I doubt Dumbledore would involve the authorities,” Harry said while Tom nodded in
agreement. “Then he’d have to explain why he was hiding the stone at Hogwarts in the first
place.”

Barty seemed to ponder on that for a few seconds before he also nodded. “I suppose. At any
rate, even if Aurors storm the castle, you’ll no longer have to worry about Alastor Moody.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, confused. He hadn’t heard anything about Moody since the man
had tried to kidnap him right at the start of the holidays.

“Because he got fired from the Auror department,” Tom said, again looking like he’d already
been installed as the new Minister for Magic. “Amelia Bones was well and truly fed up with
the man for once again doing what Dumbledore told him to do without any regards for actual
laws.”
“Why was he fired now and not two weeks ago?” Harry wondered out loud.

Barty actually laughed at that. “Because Fudge and most other ministry officials had the
holidays off, naturally. So Moody got a brief respite but today Bones, Scrimgeour and Fudge
had a little meeting and decided to just get rid of Moody altogether.”

“That is amazing news,” Harry said, his chest warming at the idea that Moody got punished
for being Dumbledore’s attack dog.

“I told you I had need of Wormtail at the Ministry,” Tom said with a sly smile as he gave
Harry a quick wink. “Without him we’d not be able to keep up with all the latest ministry
news.”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry muttered, not really caring one way or the other. He’d decided some
months ago that as long as he didn’t have to personally deal with Pettigrew he was happy to
pretend the traitor didn’t exist.

“We should get back to work,” Barty said, eyes shining with eagerness. “See if we can’t get
that stone to turn some metal into gold.”

“Yes, we’ll let you know as soon as we know for sure what the stone is,” Tom said with
almost as eager a look as Barty had. “Keep the mirror close.”

“Will do. Have fun!” Harry waved at the two men before closing the mirror. He felt a very
real pang of regret that he couldn’t be there to join Tom and Barty in their experiments. Then
again, Harry knew nothing about alchemy, so he doubted he would understand anything of
what those two would be doing, so perhaps it was for the best he was stuck at Hogwarts
instead.

Harry placed the mirror beside his pillow and turned on his side. Sleep came quickly because
Harry was tired from the long day he’d had.

A bright glow woke him up at the crack of dawn and while still drowsy with sleep, Harry
barely sat up and flipped the mirror open.

“It’s real,” Tom said, holding up a lump of gold the size of a walnut. His smile was tired and
there were dark spots under his eyes, but he also looked about as happy as Harry had ever
seen him. Barty was jumping around in the background, cackling like a madman. “You
actually stole the real Philosopher’s Stone, my dear.”

Harry fell down against his bed, overcome with laughter while Tom joined him, his head
thrown back. “We stole the actual Philosopher’s Stone and all I had to do was stand in front
of a mirror,” Harry was barely able to say as he couldn’t stop snickering. “And here
Dumbledore created this whole obstacle course and all it took was a look in that fucking
mirror.”

“We never have to worry about money ever again,” Tom said with a peculiar look in his eyes,
that Harry recognized after a moment. It was the sheer relief a person who grew up poor feels
once they realize they never have to fear poverty again.
Harry sighed, long and deep, and then offered Tom his warmest smile. “I know. We’re set for
life, no matter what happens to us. We could become a couple of hermits who never leave
their house and only experiment with fascinating magic all day long.”

“Tempting,” Tom said with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling with affection and amusement. “But
I think we would both get sick of each other if we tried that.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded with a crooked grin. “But it is nice to know that no matter what the
future throws at us, we’ll always have enough money to eat and such.”

Tom swallowed and nodded while Barty finally calmed down in the background and joined
Tom in front of the mirror.

“Our next goal is to extract the Elixir of Life,” Barty said, his voice breathless and his eyes
bloodshot with exhaustion.

“Perhaps get some sleep first,” Harry suggested with a genuine burst of worry for Tom and
Barty. Those two were definitely the types to get lost in academics to the point of self-
neglect. “And have something to eat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barty said, waving Harry’s suggestions away as though they hardly mattered.
“We’ll let you know when we can get the stone to give up its most valuable secret.”

“Talk to you soon,” Harry said while exchanging a fond smile with Tom, who at least seemed
ready to go to bed, but who knew. The lure of the stone might prove too much even for him.

Just as Harry closed the mirror and opened the curtains, the other boys in the dormitory also
started waking up and before long Harry got busy getting ready for a new day of classes
while everyone else did the same.

It was a Thursday, which meant a full day of classes, with defence, history and double
transfiguration. After the exuberant feast the previous night the students had apparently come
to the realization that it was business as usual again and most were suitably subdued during
breakfast at the thought of having to endure a whole day of classes again.

Harry enjoyed his eggy bread while Draco complained about the plebian food, insisting that
eggs and bread should always be served separately.

“So what have you two been up to during the holidays,” Blaise asked in between bites.

Theo looked a bit constipated all of a sudden, but Harry easily answered the question. “Sirius
got me a Nimbus 2001 for Yule, so Theo and I spent some quality time comparing both my
Nimbus brooms.” And Theo quickly joined the conversation, explaining all the differences
between the two brooms in detail. Blaise seemed interested enough in the subject that he
never asked what else they’d done, which was probably for the best. Harry considered Blaise
a good friend, but Blaise didn’t have a parent who was close to Tom. Blaise’s mother had
never openly supported Voldemort, as far as Harry knew, even if she did subscribe to the
usual pureblood ideals.
All this meant that Blaise didn’t have an adult who could control him should that need ever
arise, like Dorus could take charge of Theo in case something ever went wrong. Plus secrecy
contracts needed an adult’s approval when used on a minor. And therefore Harry wasn’t as
eager just yet to share his most important secrets with Blaise. Someday he would, Harry was
sure, but right now Blaise was an eleven-year-old child, and Harry didn’t feel as trusting of
his friends as he’d once had done.

He’d been burned once already, when the people Harry was sure would never betray him had
stood back and let him be executed.

Harry wasn’t about to trust a child with his life unless Tom had ways to make sure that child
wouldn’t betray them. And so Blaise would be kept in the dark for now.

It was during defence, while Quirrell spent an hour lecturing about the pimple jinx, half an
hour of which was spent on teaching them how to pronounce furnunculus, that Harry realized
that the winter holidays had been both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because Harry had absolutely needed some time away from school to relax and
recharge his battery.

And a curse, because spending two weeks amongst adults while Harry himself had been an
adult for the majority of that time had spoiled Harry to the point that it was almost painful to
be stuck in an eleven-year-old body again, surrounded by nothing but children.

Harry missed his adult body with an intensity that surprised him. Not to mention, Harry
missed Tom. Which was silly, he knew, because he’d talked to the man just that morning and
the night before, and he would talk to him again at the end of the day. And yet, Harry missed
him so much it made his stomach ache for some reason.

Harry sincerely hoped that this sour mood he was suddenly stuck with was just a case of the
post-holiday blues. He wasn’t the only one, thankfully, since Daphne was also frowning a lot
more than usual and Millicent spent the whole of Quirrell’s lecture drawing doodles on her
piece of parchment instead of taking notes, which she usually always did.

Yeah, it seemed everyone was having some trouble readjusting to Hogwarts life, but none of
them had a soulmate they suddenly found themselves separated from.

Harry sighed and realized that Tom’s offer to simply stay with him instead of returning to
Hogwarts was starting to sound more and more appealing. But no, Harry had plans for the
coming years that needed him at Hogwarts, alas. Still, Harry was at least now convinced he
would not be finishing all seven years at Hogwarts. In fact, Harry probably wouldn’t even
make it to his OWLs, the way he felt now.

History was even worse than defence, with Binns needing an entire hour to drone on and on
about one particular peace treaty signed back in 1312, and Harry spent that time writing a
letter to Sirius and daydreaming about the spring holidays when he could see Tom again,
which were still just about three months away.
Double transfiguration after lunch was also a disappointment, because McGonagall spent an
hour lecturing, and the next hour they had to turn a ceramic cup into a crystal wine glass,
which was harder than it seemed at first, because inevitably everyone ended up with glass
instead of crystal. Of course, Harry was already familiar with this particular pitfall, but he
still purposefully made the mistake so he wouldn’t stand out too much. He was still going for
clever and talented, but not an actual genius.

After classes were finally done, Harry joined his friends in the library and it was nice to
spend time with them again as they all got started on their defence and transfiguration essays.
About twenty minutes later, Hermione came breezing into the library, going from table to
table with a stack of pamphlets in her hands.

Inevitably, she ended up at Harry’s table. “Hi!” Hermione walked around their table, placing
a pamphlet in front of everyone, whether they wanted one or not. Neville seemed politely
interested, but Blaise had a look on his face as though Hermione had just placed a
decomposing skunk on his defence book. “I’m started three clubs, if there’s enough interest,”
Hermione said, beaming at all of them.

“What sort of clubs?” Susan asked, sounding just a bit wary but also a tiny bit intrigued.

“An official study club,” Hermione said with a pointed look at Harry. “Open to all first year
students. And a wizarding law club, since it seems that the judicial system in the wizarding
world is very different than the one in the muggle world. And a muggleborn appreciation
club, which would focus on all the topics I tried to get Harry to incorporate into the Culture
Club, but which he refused.”

Harry studiously ignored her, pretending to be absorbed in writing his defence essay. He was
no longer filled with a sharp sense of betrayal every time he ran into Hermione, but he still
couldn’t stand her and he doubted he ever would again. The immediate pain of Hermione’s
betrayal might have softened, but he’d never forget that she wouldn’t fucking look at him
when she helped to sentence him to death.

“Well, the best of luck to you with your clubs,” Daphne said with a polite but tiny smile.

“Thanks,” Hermione said as she gazed hopefully around the circle of students.

“We’ll consider it,” Ernie offered, his smile a little bigger but his tone suggesting he’d
already made up his mind.

“Just let me know if anyone’s interested. Tomorrow evening during the Culture Club
perhaps.” Hermione looked around the circle again, but when no one else said anything, she
hurried towards the next table.

Harry hated to admit it, but the wizarding law club actually was a pretty good idea. Or
perhaps not an entire club, but adding a few lessons about wizarding law to the Culture Club.
If anything, it would force Harry to finally read up on the Wizengamot and how it really
worked, something that had been on is to-do list since the start of the schoolyear but which
Harry still hadn’t gotten to.
But the recent developments with Sirius and Dumbledore losing his position as Chief
Warlock had made it clear that Harry couldn’t afford to be ignorant of such proceedings
anymore. Harry made a little note to himself to add wizarding laws to some future Culture
Club lessons.

After dinner Harry spent an hour playing exploding snap with Blaise and Theo in their
dorms, and he was happy to see that after a bit of a rough start during breakfast, Theo was
back to acting like himself again and didn’t clam up anymore whenever Blaise brought up the
holidays.

Harry went to bed fairly early, because he was tired from attending a full day of classes again,
but also because he was eager to talk to Tom.

“Soulmate!” Harry said with a grin to moment Tom answered, feeling as though some
invisible weight had fallen off his chest now that he saw his boyfriend again. Wait…was that
what he should call Tom? They were in a relationship now, after all. But boyfriend just
seemed odd somehow. Maybe he should just stick to soulmate. It was a term uniquely theirs,
after all, and it did suggest a certain level of intimacy at least comparable to boyfriend.

Tom looked a little dishevelled and there were still dark circles around his eyes. “Hello, my
dear.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Harry asked with a suspicious frown, suddenly filled with
worry for his soulmate.

“I did,” Tom answered quickly, his eyes widening as he tried to give Harry a look filled with
pure innocence. “I slept for a few hours this morning.”

“Hm.” Harry wasn’t very convinced by that performance, but then again, Tom was a grown
man who should, in theory, be able to take care of himself. He hardly needed a caretaker.
“How far did you get with the stone today?”

Tom’s face broke out in a huge smile, eyes shining with excitement. “We’ve made very good
progress. I think we’ll be able to produce the elixir within a few days.”

“I miss you,” Harry blurted out before he even knew what he was saying but he really did
miss Tom, and seeing him in the mirror somehow made the ache in his stomach even worse.

Tom’s smile softened and he briefly closed his eyes while he released a quiet breath. “I miss
you too, my dear.” Tom sat up a little and brought the mirror closer to his face. “I’ve missed
you during the whole day, which made me realize that we never continued our duelling
lessons.”

Harry’s heart hammered in his chest at hearing Tom confess he missed Harry as well. “We
hardly had time,” Harry was quick to point out. He had enjoyed their duelling lesson very
much, even if they’d mostly focused on breathing and positions so far, and Harry was well
aware he really needed those lessons if he ever wanted to become truly good at duelling
instead of relying on sheer dumb luck as he’d mostly done in his previous life.
“I do believe I’ve come up with a solution,” Tom said, smile turning into rather devilish grin
which did things to Harry’s whole body. Warm, tingly things. “I can apparate straight into the
Chamber of Secrets, as we now know.”

Harry sat up straight in bed, staring at the mirror in his hands while his mouth dropped open.
“Oh, fuck me! We could meet in the chamber!”

“Exactly,” Tom said, looking like he thoroughly enjoyed Harry’s dramatic reaction. “Once or
twice a week, as our schedules allow, we’ll get together in the chamber and I’ll teach you
how to duel.”

“Yes, that’s perfect,” Harry said, ready to bounce in his bed from the sheer excitement he felt.
He wouldn’t have to wait for almost three months to see Tom again. They’d be duelling, of
course, but Harry was quite sure there would be some time for a nice snog as well.

“We could meet up tomorrow evening,” Tom suggested.

Harry shook his head, though it pained him to do so. “Tomorrow’s Friday, and we’ve got our
house meeting and right after that the Culture Club.”

“Ah yes, I’d quite forgotten. How about Saturday? Morning or afternoon, whichever suits
you best.”

“Probably the morning,” Harry said, disappointed he’d have to wait an extra day to see his
soulmate, but also still very relieved he needn’t wait for months.

“Saturday at nine in the morning,” Tom said, his eyes briefly falling shut. He did look
absolutely exhausted.

“Get some sleep,” Harry said in fond exasperation. “Before you fall over.”

Tom’s smile was adorably drowsy. “Yes, my dear. We’ll talk soon.”

“Good night!” Harry smiled long after he closed the mirror, feeling an enormous sense of
peace at the idea of seeing Tom throughout the rest of his time at Hogwarts. It would make
staying at Hogwarts for a few more years at least a bit more bearable.

The next morning, Harry was in noticeably better spirits as he added some slices of banana
and a few spoons of honey to his warm bowl of oatmeal. They only had double potions in the
morning and in the afternoon they’d finish their homework so Harry would have the whole
weekend free to sneak off to duel Tom. And to snog him silly, because Harry knew that was
going to be the first thing he did the moment he saw his soulmate the next day.

A loud voice suddenly called out, “Albus, where is our stone?”

Harry looked up in surprise, as did just about every other student, as an older man and
woman marched inside the great hall. Everyone else seemed suitably confused as to what was
going on, but Harry had a very good idea who those two people were.

Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel had come for their stolen treasure.
 Chapter 47
Chapter Notes

It took me a while to figure out how to write Harry's interaction with the Flamels,
because there are so many possibilities how their meeting could go, and what
consequences Harry stealing the stone could have. I really like what I finally decided to
use, and I hope you'll all enjoy reading it as well.

Thank you for your support for this story. Even after almost 2 years I'm still blown away
by the response this story has had. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!
Your comments keep me going even after all this time.

Chapter 47

Theo released an audible gasp the second he realized who had just entered the hall, and Harry
quickly but discreetly parked his elbow in Theo’s side to warn him not to draw any unwanted
attention to them. Harry Potter and Theodore Nott were not supposed to know who these
people were and why they’d come to Hogwarts, after all.

Harry purposefully picked up his cup of tea and took a long sip, so he’d have something to do
with his hands instead of fumbling nervously with whatever was at hand. Theo, smart little
kid that he was, quickly followed Harry’s example.

“Our stone does not like to be enchanted,” Nicholas Flamel said as he and his wife halted in
front of the staff table. “But we had managed to place a small ward on it that would alert us
the moment our stone was removed from Hogwarts.”

Perenelle took a step forward and glared at Dumbledore. She looked old, with white hair kept
in a loose bun and plenty of wrinkles in her face, but she had a undeniably spry air about her
and very sharp blue eyes. “We were waiting for you to contact us to explain why you’d
removed our stone from this school, Albus.”

“We had made an agreement,” Nicholas added with a flinty look. “You would get to study the
stone as long as you kept it at Hogwarts.”

Harry almost choked on his sip of tea when he heard that bit of information. The Flamels
hadn’t given the stone to Dumbledore to protect it? Of course, this made perfect sense. As
they’d discussed over the Yule holidays, it never did make sense for the Flamels to give their
stone to Dumbledore to keep at Hogwarts to protect it. The Flamels were over 600 years old.
They’d have come up with some impenetrable protections by now, or else they would have
lost their stone centuries ago. Voldemort was not the first powerful enemy intent on stealing
it, after all.
“Let’s discuss this in my office,” Dumbledore said in an obviously placating tone, which
caused Perenelle to huff with visible irritation.

“No, let’s discuss this now,” Nicholas insisted. Both he and his wife were rather short people,
yet both of them had a powerful aura that made them seem much taller than they were. “I ask
again, Dumbledore. Where is our stone?”

Harry got an idea. A very impulsive idea. Then again, when did Harry ever have ideas that
weren’t impulsive? Because the Flamels had no idea what Dumbledore had been doing with
their stone. And if they only talked to Dumbledore now, they would never find out what
Dumbledore had been up to. So perhaps it was time for a child to be a little bit too honest.

“The Philosopher’s Stone is being hidden behind the trapdoor on the third floor,” Harry
called out during a quiet moment so his voice rang around the entire Great Hall.
“Dumbledore put it there to keep it safe from Voldemort, who he claims wants to steal it.
He’s been giving me lots and lots of hints about this the whole year, though I have no idea
why.”

Beside Harry, Theo dropped his cup of tea, spilling hot liquid all over his plate and the table.
Daphne, who was seated across from them, quickly got her wand out and cleaned up the mess
with a simple spell while Theo stared at Harry in quiet horror.

“Who said that?” Nicholas Flamel asked, turning around to stare in Harry’s direction. Around
them students started talking louder and louder amongst each other as more and more of them
realized what Dumbledore had meant with his dire warnings about the third floor corridor.

Harry slowly stood up and waved at the Flamels. “I did. My name is Harry Potter, Mr Flamel.
It’s an honour to meet you and Mrs Flamel.”

Perenelle Flamel huffed like a particularly cranky dragon as she snarled at Dumbledore. “You
used our stone in some demented scheme to catch a deceased Dark Lord?”

“Please, let’s take this to my office,” Dumbledore said, now sounding very close to pleading.

“Come here, child,” Nicholas said, gesturing at Harry to join him. And as Harry got up,
swinging his bookbag over his shoulder, he couldn’t wait to share this memory with Tom at
the first opportunity. He’d have to let Tom know to bring Dorus’ pensieve to the Chamber the
next morning. Because what was about to happen was bound to be hilarious.

When Harry reached Nicholas and Perenelle, he gave them both a polite little bow and a
bright smile.

“Tell us what you know, please,” Nicholas said quietly while everyone around them stopped
talking as well so they could hear what Harry had to say.

“It’s been weird,” Harry said in an eager voice, the picture of a child happy to honestly
answer the serious questions asked by an adult. “Dumbledore has been dropping very
obvious hints about the Philosopher’s Stone all year. He had Hagrid take it from Gringotts,
and he made sure I knew I was supposed to be there when he did so.” Harry shrugged
helplessly. “That always seemed strange to me, because Hagrid’s not allowed to do magic,
yet Dumbledore chose him to transport the world’s most wanted magical artifact.”

“Albus!” Perenelle looked close to exploding out of sheer fury.

“Hagrid has my full confidence,” Dumbledore insisted while giving Harry a disbelieving
look that bordered on very real anger.

“And then Dumbledore all but told me that he’d hidden the stone here at Hogwarts in the
third floor corridor to keep it out of Voldemort’s hands and that he expected me to go look for
it.” Harry shrugged again and offered the Flamels a rather apologetic smile. “I never
understood why, because I’m just an eleven-year-old boy.” Harry frowned as he stared at his
shoes. “Then again, Dumbledore does lots of things to me I don’t understand. Like try to
have me kidnapped from the train station before the Yule holidays.”

“Mr Potter,” Dumbledore snapped as students all around them burst into hushed whispers
again at learning that bit of shocking information.

“It’s true!” Harry insisted with a pleading look directed at the Flamels. “Moody the Auror
even lost his job over it, because he once again ignored the law in favour of obeying
Dumbledore’s commands.”

“Mr Potter!” Dumbledore looked about ready to reach for his wand, and Perenelle actually
stepped in front of Harry as though to protect him.

“I believe it is time you showed us where our stone is, Albus,” Nicholas said in a frosty tone,
one hand firmly placed on Harry’s shoulder. “And I believe Mr Potter here should
accompany us.”

Harry blinked a few times, looking mildly surprised by this while he was jumping for joy on
the inside.

“I assure you, the stone is safe,” Dumbledore said, visibly collecting himself.

“Now, Albus,” Nicholas said in a tone that was utterly final.

“Or we will dismantle this castle one stone at a time until we find our property,” Perenelle
added with the kind of smile that bordered on a predatory snarl.

“Very well,” Dumbledore finally said, making a whole production out of looking as though
he decided to do the Flamels a huge favour at great cost to himself. Harry barely refrained
from rolling his eyes.

Harry expected Dumbledore to lead them to the classroom where he’d found the mirror just a
day and a half ago, but apparently Dumbledore had moved the mirror into its place at the end
of the obstacle course immediately after Harry had found it. Harry wondered if Dumbledore
had used some kind of wards on that classroom to let him know the moment Harry crossed
them and discovered the mirror for himself.
“There used to be a Cerberus here,” Harry said conversationally as they entered the empty
room that held the trapdoor. “But the Board of Governors made Dumbledore get rid of it
because students kept sneaking in here and someone eventually would have been eaten.”

“You are very well informed,” Nicholas said with obvious humour in his voice.

“Some of my friends have family members on the Board of Governors, so they kept us up to
date on all the news concerning the Cerberus after Fred and George Weasley spread the news
of its existence,” Harry explained easily. He didn’t want the Flamels to become suspicious of
him, but thankfully he did have perfectly logical explanations of his extensive knowledge of
the whole situation.

Dumbledore’s expression soured considerably but he didn’t say anything as he opened the
trapdoor with a flick of his wand. They all gathered around the dark hole that opened up in
the floor and peered inside.

“What’s down there?” Harry asked, making sure to sound a bit worried. All they could see
was darkness.

“It’s quite safe to jump,” Dumbledore said as though it was the most normal thing in the
world, to jump into a dark hole without any idea of where the bottom even was.

“Honestly,” Perenelle grumbled, whipping out her own wand and conjuring a rope ladder.
Nimble as you please she climbed down it. Just as Nicholas urged Harry to go down next, a
huge gust of flames lit up the darkness. “It’s very much infested with Devil’s Snare down
here,” Perenelle called up. “But I’m taking care of that, no worries.”

By the time Harry made it to the end of the rope ladder there wasn’t a single piece of Devil’s
Snare left, but the floor was covered in a fine layer of ashes. Perenelle stood to the side, wand
lit up and a satisfied smirk on her wrinkled face. Nicholas and Dumbledore soon joined them
and Dumbledore gestured towards the door that would lead to the room that held all the
flying keys.

“Honestly,” Perenelle grumbled after Dumbledore insisted someone would have to climb
onto a broom and catch the right key by hand. Perenelle aimed her wand at the door, moved it
around in a very intricate pattern, and the door itself disappeared entirely.

Next was the huge enchanted chess set. “Absolutely not,” Perenelle said, and after another
unknown spell all the chess pieces crumbled into dust where they stood while Perenelle
marched across the chessboard to the next door, head held high.

The troll was quickly dispatched with what seemed to be a very strong sleeping charm, and
the potions were ignored entirely in favour of transfiguring a tunnel under the row of flames.
With a few jerks of her wand, Perenelle raised the whole tunnel up so that the flames arched
over it like a bridge of fire that led nowhere, and they could safely walk under them towards
the final room that held the Mirror of Erised.

Harry was genuinely impressed with the magic Perenelle had just demonstrated and he barely
kept from asking her to write down all the spells she’d used. Her very quick spell work also
made it clear once again that the protections Dumbledore had put in place were laughable at
best and completely ridiculous at worst when faced with a powerful adult witch or wizard.

“Were these honestly the only protections?” Nicholas asked an obviously chagrined
Dumbledore. “Because they would not have kept out an average niffler, let alone a Dark
Lord, deceased or not.”

Dumbledore seemed uncharacteristically flustered, as though he’d never counted on the

Flamels to actually see the ‘protections’ he’d put in place to guard the stone. “They were
merely ways to stall for time. The real protection is the Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore
squared his shoulders and managed to appear a bit more composed again. “Only those who
want to find the stone but not use it can retrieve it from the mirror.”

“Fascinating,” Nicholas said, and gestured towards the mirror. “Please demonstrate, my boy.”

It took everything Harry had not to bend double and cackle hysterically at hearing
Dumbledore being addressed as ‘my boy’, but he bit his lip and clenched both his hands into
fists to control himself. He managed it, but barely.

Dumbledore stepped in front of the mirror, his face full of confidence as he stared into it.
Harry wondered what he saw. Once upon a time Dumbledore had brushed Harry’s question
off by saying it was a pair of socks. In his first life, this answer had genuinely amused Harry.
Now he knew better. Dumbledore probably saw Gellert Grindelwald, or his sister Ariana. Or
perhaps both.

It took a few minutes before Dumbledore’s expression changed, his eyes narrowing, his lips
thinning as he glared at the mirror. Dumbledore stretched out a hand and seemed to
concentrate very hard on something, but ultimately nothing happened because of course the
stone was no longer there.

“We’ve seen enough,” Perenelle said, arms crossed as she looked at Dumbledore with
absolute disdain. She briefly turned towards her husband. “I told you we shouldn’t give him
our stone. Albus has always been far too sneaky for his own good.”

Nicholas released a sad little sigh. “I had hoped that for once Albus was being honest when
he requested to keep the stone for a while, but alas, it seems that even in my extreme old age
I can be wrong about people.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, as if he hadn’t just been called a shady character, basically.
“Perhaps it is time for you both to move on to the next great adventure.”

Perenelle looked as though Dumbledore had just confessed to being a house-elf in disguise,
confirming he’d finally lost his sanity once and for all. “Or how about you figure out what
happened to our stone and get it back?”

Holding up both hands, Dumbledore looked like he wanted to argue, but Nicholas never gave
him a chance.
“You have until the end of this schoolyear, Albus. If you haven’t returned our property by
then, you will very much regret it.” Nicholas turned on the spot while Perenelle did the same,
and they marched out of the room. “Come along, Harry. I still have questions for you.”

Harry hurried after them, since he was still internally debating if he should ask Perenelle
Flamel for a list of spells she’d so easily used, and he was eager to spend more time with
them. When they crossed the empty chessboard Harry decided to just go for it, since the
worst they could do was deny him, really. “What were those spells you used, Mrs Flamel?
That was some of the most impressive magic I’ve ever seen.”

Perenelle beamed at him. “Thank you, young man. They were just a few things I’ve cooked
up over the years. I’ve always loved creating my own magic instead of relying on others to
do it for me.”

Harry may have fallen a little bit in love with Perenelle at this point. The way she stood up
against Dumbledore, how she saw a problem and took care of it with minimal fuss, and how
she apparently simply made her own magic. “How do you even do that?” Harry wondered as
he gazed at her in sheer adoration.

“First, you must study magic,” Perenelle said as they passed the room with the flying keys. “I
have worked for many, many years as an Unspeakable. Not many people are aware of this,
but since I retired a few decades ago I don’t mind people knowing this about me.”

“An Unspeakable,” Harry sighed, more to himself than to the Flamels. He’d never really
considered a career like that, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of studying magic and
eventually coming up with his own magic was very, very appealing. It certainly was a much
better option than becoming an Auror like he thought he wanted to do once upon a time.

Harry vowed to give becoming an Unspeakable some serious thought, and perhaps discuss it
with Tom as well. He doubted Tom would object to such a career choice.

Nicholas chuckled as they reached the bottom of the rope ladder. “It seems you have
managed to convert the boy, darling.”

“Good, good,” Perenelle replied with an amused smile. “We always need more curious young
men and women to carry on exploring all of magic’s possibilities.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed whole-heartedly, returning Perenelle’s smile.

“Walk us to the gates,” Nicholas said once they had all climbed the rope ladder.

Harry didn’t even think about objecting, because just being in their presence felt like an
enormous honour.

“They don’t hire just anyone at the Department of Mysteries,” Perenelle explained while they
walked through a quiet castle, since most students were tucked away in classrooms. “I advise
you to start experimenting with magic as soon as you can, so you have something to show for
yourself once you apply to become an Unspeakable. If you wait to discover the wonders of
magic until after you finish Hogwarts, they will have no interest in you.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Harry said, his mind at once filled with numerous magical things he
wanted to figure out. How the Room of Requirement worked. Could anyone learn to speak
parseltongue. And how reincarnation worked, or whatever had happened to him and Tom.
Not to mention what the Deathly Hallows actually were. Yeah, just giving it a little bit of
thought gave Harry lots of ideas of the kind of magic he wanted to experiment with. And he
vowed to make time for that over the coming months and years. He’d been so busy with
setting up his new life and making necessary improvements ever since he’d woken up in his
cupboard again that he barely had time to do anything but go to classes and do homework.

That changed now, though, Harry promised himself. His life, and Tom’s and Barty’s, were
now coming along nicely, and needed little active interference anymore, so Harry could make
the time to mess with magic as much as he wanted.

“Send me a letter when you have completed your first experiment,” Perenelle said, though
she made it sound like an order. Harry didn’t mind one bit. He did start to feel a bit bad for
having taken their stone. These were amazing people and they shouldn’t have to die because
Harry wanted to stick it to Dumbledore. But the Flamels had said that they needed to stone
back by the end of the schoolyear. So perhaps Harry could let Tom and Barty experiment
with the stone for a few months more before sending it back to the Flamels anonymously.
That would work.

The moment they stepped out onto the lawn in the chilly January air, Nicholas walked a little
closer to Harry. “It won’t work for you,” Nicholas whispered.

“Huh?” Harry glanced up at the man in genuine confusion.

“The stone,” Nicholas said with a knowing little smile while Perenelle chuckled. “It will let
you turn metal into gold, but it will not produce the Elixir of Life for you. It only gives the
elixir to its creators.”

“Er…” Harry stared up at Nicholas in shock, and much to his horror he felt his cheeks flush.
He’d never been a very good liar, and apparently these people saw right through him. Then
again, they were over 600 years old. Plenty of time to learn how to read people, obviously.
But Harry was a Slytherin now, and Slytherins never, ever admitted to any kind of crime,
period. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nicholas chuckled and nodded knowingly.

“It is not our only stone,” Perenelle said, also sounding more than amused. “We have made
many over the years. But we could never get them to work for others.” Perenelle’s eyes
became distant, as though she was looking back over her very long life to the very beginning.
“Even when we extracted the elixir, it wouldn’t work the moment we gave it to others.”

Harry blinked as he slowly began to understand what that must have meant.

“Yes, we had children and grandchildren we had to leave behind,” Perenelle said quietly.
“Remember this, child. All magic comes at a cost. The greater the magic, the greater the
cost.”
Harry remembered the horcruxes and how they’d turned a brilliant man like Tom utterly
insane and he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I understand. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Nicholas said with a grateful smile. “Keep the stone.”

Glancing up at him in shock, Harry couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open. “Are you
serious?”

“Yes. Use it, experiment with it, do whatever you like. It is yours now.” Nicholas gave a
resolute nod after sharing an agreeable look with his wife. “We need children like you, Harry
Potter. Those who will seek out the boundaries and who are not afraid to break a few laws if
necessary. The very worst that can happen to magic is for it to become stagnant.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered in utter astonishment, and he suddenly felt a little emotional. The
Flamels, who were like royalty…no, almost like deities in the wizarding world, had just
given Harry one of their most prized creations. Even knowing that it wouldn’t give him the
Elixir of Life didn’t take away the fact that this was an enormous honour. “I really appreciate
it.”

“You are welcome, child,” Perenelle said just as they reached the gates. “Don’t forget to write
me about your first experiment.”

Harry waved at them, his eyes suddenly a bit misty for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
Nicholas and Perenelle waved back before stepping through the gates and apparating away.

As Harry lowered his hand, something occurred to him. If the Flamels had many more stones,
then how had they died in Harry’s first life?

Of course, they hadn’t! Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he was confronted with yet another
of Dumbledore’s lies.

Fucking hell, it made perfect sense. Even in his first year, Dumbledore had wanted Harry to
start accepting his own mortality and inevitable death. And he’d used the Flamels to make it
seem that dying wasn’t such a big deal at all so a few years later Harry would happily commit
suicide by Dark Lord.

That fucking heartless bastard!

The Flamels hadn’t died at all. But they were notoriously private people who hardly mingled
with anyone anymore and no longer got involved in everyday wizarding affairs, so no one
would think to check if they’d actually died or not. Harry certainly hadn’t doubted
Dumbledore when he’d shared that bit of information.

Ugh. Yet another thing to add to his pile of reasons to utterly despise Albus Dumbledore.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and at once got the urge to share everything he’d learned with
Tom. This was huge. This was bigger than huge.

Tom needed to know as soon as possible.

So Harry pulled first his invisibility cloak out of his bag and ducked under it, and then he
opened his mirror and called for Tom. It took a few minutes before Tom answered, still
looking very dishevelled. “Meet me in the Shrieking Shack at once,” Harry all but yelled at a
very surprised Tom. “Bring Barty, and Dorus’ pensieve.”

“Are you okay?” Tom asked, looking Harry over top to bottom, or as much as the mirror
allowed. “Did something happen?”

“The Flamels were here and I had a very interesting chat with them,” Harry said in an almost
hysterical voice, barely able to contain himself. “You need to see the memory, trust me.”

Tom nodded in understanding. “We’ll be right there.”

Harry closed the mirror and trooped across the lawn, still hidden by his cloak. He should be
in Potions at that moment, but Snape had seen how Harry was ordered to follow Dumbledore
and the Flamels, so he couldn’t make too big of a stink about Harry’s absence. Or so Harry
hoped.

Using a burst of magic, Harry pressed the knot at the bottom of the whomping willow so he
could safely lower himself into the narrow tunnel beneath it. Once he climbed through the
trapdoor into the shrieking shack, he dusted off the rickety furniture he found there with a
quick spell and sat down at the table with a tired sigh.

“Kreacher, can you bring me some tea?” Harry called out because he could really do with a
strong cuppa after all the revelations he’d just learned.

“Kreacher is being happy to help his Little Master,” Kreacher said the moment he popped
into the room with a tea service.

“Thanks, Kreacher. You’re the best,” Harry said with a happy sigh, pouring himself a
steaming cup of tea. Kreacher had also provided a plate of single serve apple tarts, and Harry
eagerly bit into one since his breakfast had been interrupted and he’d barely been able to eat.
Kreacher popped away again, and Harry was on his second apple tart when Tom and Barty
apparated into the room, scaring the shit out of Harry. He was barely able to hold onto his
tart.

Harry placed the tart on a plate, licked his fingers clean and got out his wand to extract the
memory. He deposited it in the pensieve the moment Tom placed it on the table beside the tea
service.

“Have fun,” Harry said, waving at the pensieve.

“You’re not coming with?” Tom asked curiously, but Harry simply shook his head. His mind
was still full of everything he’d learned that morning and the last thing he wanted was to
experience it all again. He needed time to make sense of everything.

Tom and Barty pressed their faces to the pensieve, and Harry sat back and sipped tea and ate
apple tarts until the two men surfaced again.
“Wow,” Barty sighed, looking at Harry as if he was seeing him for the very first time. “They
let you keep it. They actually let you keep the stone.”

Tom’s face was doing all sorts of interesting things. There was some obvious disappointment,
but also plenty of excitement, not to mention a whole lot of ambition. “We will simply have
to reverse engineer the stone.”

Barty grinned at once. “Oh yeah, this is nothing but a new challenge.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile in response to their obvious enthusiasm. He was glad Tom and
Barty weren’t too disappointed, but simply saw the whole situation as a new kind of
opportunity. Then again, Tom and Barty were exactly the kind of wizards who genuinely
enjoyed a good magical puzzle, and reverse engineering the Philosopher’s Stone was perhaps
the biggest puzzle of them all.

“You gave yourself away right from the start, my dear,” Tom said as he seated himself beside
Harry and gave him a fond smile.

Barty sat down opposite them and helped himself to a cup of tea, pouring one for Tom as
well. “Yeah, you were a little too well-informed.”

Harry frowned, certain he’d been careful with how much he’d given away.

“You were far too eager to put yourself right in the middle of the situation,” Tom explained
while accepting the cup of tea carefully. “A normal eleven-year-old who knew nothing about
the theft of the stone wouldn’t have interfered like that.”

“Well,” Harry said, still frowning. “I just wanted the Flamels to learn what was really going
on.”

“Clearly,” Tom agreed with a grin before sipping his tea. “They must have realized that as
well and they certainly rewarded you for your services.”

Harry shrugged, because what was done was done, and he couldn’t change anything about it
anymore, anyway. Besides, they had gotten their hands on a real Philosopher’s Stone in the
end, with permission of its owners, so the end result had been more than profitable. “What
did you think of that idea, though?” Harry asked, giving Tom a curious look.

“What idea?”

“Becoming an Unspeakable,” Harry said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit shy, as though it was
a very stupid idea of his to think he’d ever have what it took to formally research magic like
that.

“If that’s what you want, I think it’s a great career choice,” Tom said, much to Harry’s relief.

Barty toasted Harry with his teacup. “I certainly hope you’ll make it as an Unspeakable, kid,
because I’d love a private tour of the Department of Mysteries.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but he was absolutely glowing on the inside. For some reason, having a
genuine plan for a future career that would give him plenty of fulfilment seemed to have
lifted a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there to begin with. “I’ve got
some ideas for magical experiments, but I’ve got plenty of time,” Harry said lightly, still a bit
uncertain to discuss such things with a pair of wizards as smart and talented as Tom and
Barty.

“Be careful around Dumbledore though,” Tom said in clear warning, ruining Harry’s good
mood just a bit. “The old man has received an official warning from the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement, and he’s been ordered to stay away from you except in academic
situations that cannot be handled by another staff member, but that doesn’t mean he’ll keep to
those rules.”

“Yeah, he did seem more than a little put out with you for spilling the magical beans like
that,” Barty agreed as he selected an apple tart for himself.

Harry nodded, and then quickly changed the subject again because the last thing he wanted
was to think about Dumbledore at that moment. They chatted about Harry’s encounter with
the Flamels for almost another hour, until it was time for Harry to go back to the castle for
lunch.

“See you tomorrow morning,” Harry said happily to Tom before he lowered himself through
the trapdoor into the dark tunnel. While he’d been disappointed he’d not been able to have a
good little snog with his soulmate, he was happy enough he got to spend some unplanned
time with Tom.

Harry used his invisibility cloak again to keep himself hidden until he reached the castle and
he tucked the cloak away again. On his way to the Great Hall, Harry bumped into Snape,
almost literally.

“Mr Potter,” Snape said with his customary sneer. “You have the afternoon off, which means
you’ll have no problems joining my third year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class after lunch to
brew the potion you missed this morning.”

Harry was about to argue, because of course he wasn’t just going to accept anything Snape
said, no matter how justified it was, when Dumbledore appeared in his field of vision.

“Potter, my office, now,” Dumbledore said, his face a mask of fury, his eyes burning with
something that genuinely scared Harry to his core. Dumbledore looked almost demented with
silent rage.

“I want my Head of House to join us,” Harry managed to say, remembering reading that in
the Hogwarts book of rules and regulations. “I have the right to request his presence.” Harry
glanced up at Snape, ready to promise the man just about anything at that moment as long as
he didn’t leave Harry alone with Dumbledore.

Harry hadn’t expected Snape to look visibly worried by Dumbledore’s furious expression,
and that only added to Harry’s quiet fear.
 Chapter 48
Chapter Summary

We find out if Harry survives his confrontation with Dumbledore, Harry remembers
what it takes to be a good friend, he meets with Tom for some studying and finally
makes it to the Restricted Section with an actual pass.

Chapter Notes

Since someone seriously suggested I put this story up for adoption because I took a two
month break, let me make this very clear here and now. This story is not abandoned,
period. I've got plenty of plans for it still and I'll keep writing it as life allows it. My
stories will never go up for adoption because there is a good chance I will come back to
them eventually. Just this week I picked up a story I hadn't worked on in 16 years. So,
anyway, thank you for your patience.

Let me know what you think! Your comments keep me inspired to keep writing.

Chapter 48

Their standoff lasted a few very long moments, where they all stared at each other.
Dumbledore with simmering fury, Snape with genuine worry and Harry with abject fear.

Just as Harry debated if making a run for it, just rush out the entrance doors behind him was a
good idea or not, a voice sounded through the Entrance Hall.

“Professor Dumbledore, what is going on?”

McGonagall came walking down the staircase, face pinched with concern as she looked
between the three of them.

“I was just inviting Mr Potter into my office for a much needed chat about his recent conduct
at this school,” Dumbledore said through gritted teeth, eyes still narrowed and blazing.

McGonagall’s expression tightened even further, though she now seemed more angry than
worried. “Headmaster, must I remind you that you’re not to have any contact with Mr Potter
unless it concerns an academic matter that cannot be solved by another staff member?”
“I assure you that Mr Potter is in need of my discipline and no one can replace my part in
this,” Dumbledore said with a quiet snarl.

McGonagall stopped right beside Dumbledore. She glanced around the Entrance Hall, where
various students were lingering on their way to lunch, staring at the spectacle with
disbelieving eyes. Obviously no one at Hogwarts had ever seen the Headmaster that furious.

“Albus,” McGonagall whispered urgently. “Think about what you’re doing. If you break this
sanction, you might very well lose your job. What has Mr Potter even done that warrants this
response?”

“Told the truth.” Surprisingly, it was Snape who said this. Now that he had backup from a
colleague he was apparently happy enough to have a minor confrontation with Dumbledore.
Not that Harry blamed him for that. Snape was a powerful wizard and an excellent duellist,
but in an actual duel Harry doubted Snape would win from Dumbledore. The old man was
simply too powerful and too experienced. Only Tom had ever been able to duel Dumbledore
to a standstill and even he hadn’t been able to easily win.

“I just wanted to help Mr and Mrs Flamel,” Harry muttered, remembering to put on an act as
though he was a contrite child who only now realized he may have said too much earlier.
“Their stone is very important to them.”

“The boy is already serving a detention with me this afternoon for missing my class,” Snape
added with a bit of a sneer, looking much more like himself again.

“Very well,” McGonagall said, looking between all three of them before glaring at
Dumbledore again. “Then hereby I, as the Deputy Headmistress, conclude that the matter is
solved and that Mr Potter will receive appropriate disciplinary measures from his Head of
House.” When Dumbledore still stubbornly refused to step aside, McGonagall added with a
bit of a growl, “Now move, Albus, or I will report this recent confrontation to the Board of
Governors myself.”

That gave Harry an idea and he immediately started composing a letter to the Board in his
head, so he could send it off after lunch. Dumbledore had overstepped several rules just now,
and if McGonagall wasn’t going to report him, Harry most certainly would.

“This isn’t over,” Dumbledore whispered, eyes still burning bright with anger, but he did
finally start moving towards the Great Hall. McGonagall nodded at Harry and Snape and then
all but herded Dumbledore away from them.

“You bloody fool,” Snape said with a snarl, though his cheeks were still a bit paler than usual.
“Now you see what happens when you taunt those far more powerful than yourself.”

Harry hated to admit it, but Snape might just have a point. “Yeah,” he whispered in reply
while his body sagged in exhaustion now that the adrenaline was leaving his system. “I might
have made a tiny miscalculation this morning.”

Snape actually snorted at hearing Harry’s phrasing. “A tiny miscalculation indeed. Stay away
from him, Potter, at all cost. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, because there was nothing else to say to that.

“And I still expect you in my classroom after lunch.” With that, Snape swept around on his
heels and disappeared into the Great Hall. Harry followed soon after.

“Did you just have a pissing match with Dumbledore?” Blaise asked the moment Harry sat
down between him and Theo. “We could see bits and pieces from here.”

Fucking hell. Harry sighed, long and deep. Apparently more students than he realized had
witnessed that bit of drama. But that might actually work in Harry’s favour once he reported
the incident to the Board of Governors. It meant there would be plenty of witnesses spreading
versions of the incident amongst the student population.

“I’ll give you the details later,” Harry said quickly as he rummaged around in his bookbag. “I
have a letter to write and after lunch I have to go to potions to make up for the class I
missed.”

“Tough luck,” Theo said, though he did give Harry a very calculating look, probably
wondering if Harry had managed to keep the fact that he’d stolen the actual Philosopher’s
Stone from the Flamels or not.

Harry wrote a simple letter in between eating a pork pie and some pickles. He was rather
hungry, since breakfast had been interrupted. After he finished his food he folded the letter
and hurried towards the owlery. He’d described the incident that had occurred earlier and
then worded it as though he was filing a complaint because the Headmaster had truly scared
him. He found Hedwig sleeping in the owlery and after giving her a few head scritches he
offered her the letter and asked her to take it to Augusta Longbottom. She was on the Board
and she was an honest woman who would make sure Harry’s letter wouldn’t be shoved under
the carpet.

The next couple hours Harry spent in Snape’s classroom, catching up with brewing, but he
honestly didn’t mind. It was a simple hair-lengthening potion and brewing it took very little
brainpower at all for Harry, so it was a great opportunity to for him to process the many
events of that day.

Harry had met the actual Flamels, who let him keep their stone. Harry had seriously pissed
off Dumbledore and learned a valuable lesson not to do it again. And Harry now had a future
career in mind for himself, one which would keep him plenty challenged.

And that is what Harry settled on thinking about most while he brewed. What magical
experiments did Harry want to conduct first?

There were so many options but Harry’s mind fixated on one thing almost at once, and that
was the Room of Requirement. How did that even work? How did an object know what your
desires were and acted accordingly? When you really thought about it, it seemed almost
impossible. Changing the colour of something, or even producing water out of thin air all
seemed like things that could be explained by current day magical theory.
But an object that could in essence read your mind? Nah, Harry hadn’t a clue where to even
start.

And how would one experiment with that anyway? What would such an experiment even
look like. The more Harry thought about that, the more of a practical idea he got. A small
wooden box, because wood was easy to work with when it came to runes and charms and
Harry believed he’d need at least both. When you opened the box, the inside would turn
whatever colour you were thinking about. When you closed the box it would automatically
reset.

There. That was a proper experiment that would help Harry unravel the mysteries of the
Room of Requirement eventually. Perhaps going after such a huge and old piece of magic
like the Room of Requirement was a bit too ambitious, even for Harry, but Harry was well
aware that his time at Hogwarts was limited and he wanted to use that time studying
interesting things in the castle while he still could.

After class was over and Snape gave him one last disappointed glare, Harry trooped towards
the library where he found all his friends already deep into their homework.

Immediately Harry was bombarded with questions from everyone about the Flamels and the
Stone and his confrontation with Dumbledore. Harry held up both hands and shushed his
friends. “This isn’t the place to tell the story,” Harry said, because Madam Pinch was
prowling the isles, glaring at any student who talked too long and too loudly. “I promise I’ll
tell you all later.”

As his friends whispered furiously amongst themselves, unable to stop speculating what
might have happened, Harry saw an opportunity and the took it immediately. “I’m going to
become an Unspeakable,” Harry said and at once the kids around him quieted down, giving
him curious looks. “I have a lot of experiments I’d like to do. That means a lot of research,
and I’ll need lots of peace and quiet. I’ll need some hours alone at least a couple of times a
week.”

“Just promise us you won’t do any dangerous experiments alone,” Neville said with obvious
concern in his eyes as he looked at Harry.

“That I can promise. I’ll definitely make sure I’ll have some or all of you with me once I’m
ready to do magic.”

“Good,” Daphne said with a firm nod. “We don’t want you to end up blowing yourself up in
an empty classroom somewhere.”

Chuckling, Harry gave Daphne a bright little smile. “Thanks for your concern. It’s
appreciated.”

“When will you be researching?” Susan asked curiously.

“I’m thinking tomorrow morning, Saturday. And perhaps Tuesday evenings. It’s not set in
stone, obviously.” Harry needed to check with Tom when he was able to meet with Harry in
the Chamber of Secrets for their duelling lessons from now on. But this way Harry had a
perfect reason to sneak off to spend a couple of hours with Tom without his friends getting
suspicious. And he’d do his actual research at different times, since homework didn’t take
him much effort so he had plenty of opportunities to add a few extracurricular topics.

When Harry disappeared into the stacks to look for a few books on charms to start reading up
on possible ways the Room worked, Tracey followed him.

“Harry,” Tracey whispered behind him, scaring the crap out of Harry. Apparently his earlier
confrontation with Dumbledore still had his nerves a little frazzled.

“Yeah?”

Tracey leaned a little closer. “I didn’t want to say this in front of others, because I don’t want
to embarrass Daphne, but today’s her birthday. You have a house-elf, right? I thought perhaps
we could do tea and cake tonight during the Culture Club as a surprise for her.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t even considered when any of his friends’ birthdays were. That was
a major oversight. “Thanks for telling me. It’s a great idea. I’ll make sure there’s cake and
some decorations.”

“Thanks!” Tracey beamed at him and then hurried back to their friends.

“Kreacher!”

Within seconds Harry’s very own house-elf popped into existence in front of him. Harry still
got a little kick out of the realization he had his very own house-elf, and it was the best elf a
young man could wish for.

“Hi, Kreacher,” Harry said with a warm smile which Kreacher responded to with an
inquisitive look. “Please go to Honeydukes and get a small gift basket with the assortment of
chocolate bars. Have it gift wrapped with a card that says: To Daphne, happy birthday from
Harry. Leave that on Daphne Greengrass’ bed. She’s a first year Slytherin, like me.”

“Kreacher will.”

“After that please go to Diagon Alley and get a birthday calendar. Something cute. Bring that
to me.”

Kreacher nodded and with a pop he was gone again.

As Harry went back to browsing the Charms section he wondered how many birthdays he’d
accidentally missed already since the start of the year. Perhaps they could do a general
celebration next week for those whose birthdays had come and gone already. That might be a
good solution. Harry eventually found a few advanced Charms books that might help him get
started on his Room experiment and he sauntered back to his friends.

“I was thinking,” Blaise said once Harry was seated again. “About Granger’s student clubs.”

Theo snorted and shook his head before giving Blaise an amused smile. Harry had no idea
why, though.
Blaise ignored Theo’s antics and instead focused solely on Harry. “We should have a man on
the inside, so we can keep up with what Granger is up to.”

“In other words,” Theo said with a snicker. “Blaise wants to attend the Wizarding Law Club
Granger is going to start.”

“To spy!” Blaise said much louder than he intended and he quickly ducked his head and
continued in a whisper. “I’m the perfect person for the job because my uncle is a solicitor and
he’s already offered me an apprenticeship.”

“Really?” Daphne said with obvious interest. “That’s amazing.”

Tracey nodded. “Count yourself lucky. Law apprenticeships are bloody expensive and hard to
find.”

“I haven’t decided yet if I’ll accept it,” Blaise said with a dismissive gesture of his hand.
“I’ve still got six and a half years to decide.”

“Yeah, you’d be mad not to accept that,” Neville agreed while beside him Susan nodded
vigorously.

Harry had to admit he didn’t know much about apprenticeships. He knew there were no
magical universities and that people wanting to learn an academic profession after Hogwarts
needed an apprenticeship with an established Master. But apprenticeships weren’t free and
depending on the chosen profession could in fact be outrageously expensive. Potions was one
such apprenticeship that required a small mountain of gold. There were ways around that for
certain professions. Gringotts accepted curse-breaking apprentices and put them to work
immediately, paying them a stipend while they studied for their Masteries. St Mungo’s did
much the same with Healers.

So yeah, Blaise having been offered a Law Apprenticeship was rather a big deal. Harry
smiled at him. “I’m not keeping you from joining a student club, Blaise. But keeping an eye
on the proceedings there would be welcome.”

“Sure, you can tell us all about it so we don’t have to attend ourselves,” Hannah concluded
with a smug little smile. Blaise winked at her in return and then went back to his homework.

As they packed up and walked to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry saw Kreacher lurking in a
dark alcove. Harry hurried towards him and Kreacher quickly pushed a calendar into his
hands. It had pictures of all sorts of animals, like crups and kneazles and nifflers and owls, all
wearing tiny paper birthday hats. It was perfect, as far as Harry was concerned.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered. “Can you make sure there is a large cake with candles and plenty
of tea available tonight at the Culture Club?”

“Kreacher will make birthday preparations,” Kreacher said in an assuring tone. “Little Master
must be going to dinner now.”

“Yeah, all right.” Harry ran to catch up with his friends.

After a hearty meal of beef and barley soup with rice pudding for afters, they trooped towards
the common room for their weekly House Meeting.

Snape seemed entirely himself and completely unfazed about what had happened earlier that
day as he rattled off the usual messages and warnings. Since they had only just returned from
the holidays not much had yet happened in Slytherin House that needed commenting on. And
when one older student asked about the whole ordeal with the Flamels, Snape simply said
that it was none of their business.

As Harry and his friends made their way to the Club House for the Culture Club, Daphne
hurried to catch up with Harry.

“Thanks for the chocolate.” Daphne’s cheeks were uncharacteristically flushed. “I’d honestly
thought no one save for Tracey had remembered.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “To tell you the truth, I’d almost forgotten if someone
hadn’t reminded me. But we’re going to fix that problem tonight.” Harry held up the calendar
in his hand and showed it to Daphne, who gave an approving nod.

Kreacher had outdone himself, as usual. The Club House was decorated with balloons and
colourful garlands and in the middle of the room, on a lone table, stood a huge birthday cake
with twelve candles burning.

“Whose birthday is it?” Padma asked with a bright smile.

“Daphne’s.” Once all the students had entered, Harry looked around the room. “It’s Daphne’s
birthday. Happy birthday, Daphne!” This was followed with a chorus of happy birthdays from
everyone else. But Harry wasn’t done yet. “Listen up! I’ve got a calendar here. I want
everybody to write down their birthdays on it, so we can provide people with some cake
when their birthday rolls around.”

“Excellent idea,” Ernie said, reaching for a quill in his bookbag. Everyone formed a line at
the calendar and when they were finished writing down their name they got in line for a slice
of birthday cake and tea.

Harry gave everyone twenty minutes to mingle and finish their cake and then he called
everyone to attention. But before he could say a word, Seamus spoke up.

“What happened with the Flamels?” Seamus asked, eyes wide as he stared at Harry. “Fred
and George were telling all sorts of rumours that Dumbledore almost killed you this
morning.”

“It wasn’t quite that exciting,” Harry muttered.

“But you went with the Flamels to find the Philosopher’s Stone,” Hermione insisted with a
frown.

“Yeah, you did. Was that why Dumbledore was so pissed off at you?” Terry asked.
Harry sighed. “All right. Everyone take a seat, and I’ll tell you what happened.” And that is
what Harry did for the rest of the time they had together that evening. He of course left out
certain details, like the fact Harry had stolen the Stone himself. But he went into detail about
Dumbledore’s traps and he talked at length about the amazing magic Perenelle had used. And
everyone hung onto his lips as they listened with bated breath. Afterwards there was a lively
discussion about who could have stolen the Philosopher’s Stone. No firm conclusions were
reached because everyone quickly realized that the Stone was such a desirable object that
most people would probably try to steal it if they had the chance. Harry carefully kept his
mouth shut, as did Theo.

Once they were back in their dormitory and tucked into bed, Harry didn’t immediately call
Tom. He first wrote a letter to the Flamels because he just had to share his ideas for his first
experiment with them. There was a renewed energy in Harry now that he had these goals for
his future. He’d dreaded going back to Hogwarts after the holidays, having to sit through
endless classes of subjects he already knew and learning magic he’d already mastered years
ago. But now suddenly he had exciting projects and endless experiments to look forwards to
and somehow that lifted a huge weight off Harry’s shoulders and he almost felt like he’d
done the first time he’d attended Hogwarts, full off happiness and giddiness at being a
student at a magical school.

Harry tucked the finished letter away carefully and then lay back against his mattress and
opened the mirror. Tom answered almost at once, also lying in bed. “Soulmate!” Harry
chirped. “Dumbledore almost killed me in the Entrance Hall this morning.”

“What the fuck, Harry?” Tom’s eyes were as wide as Harry had ever seen them. “Are you
serious? Did Dumbledore attack you?”

Harry quickly held up a hand to calm poor Tom down at little. “Not quite, but he wanted to.”
And Harry told Tom what had happened in detail.

“This is not good,” Tom said the second Harry was done. “The old man is losing control of
the situation and he’s going to display more and more erratic behaviour.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry agreed with a small frown on his face. “Nothing is going as
Dumbledore expected it.”

“Exactly.” Tom’s face did an interesting thing and his expression almost became pleading.
“Harry, please reconsider just pulling out of Hogwarts. You stand no chance against
Dumbledore.”

“I know, I know,” Harry quickly said, his stomach tightening with a sense of guilt and shame.
“I messed up, pushed him too far. I learned my lesson, though.” He held the mirror a little
closer to his face. “I promise if Dumbledore goes any further than this I’ll be out of here at
once. But I’m going to keep my distance from him and I won’t purposefully push his buttons
again.”

“Fine.” Tom still didn’t seem happy but he also seemed to realize that trying to force Harry to
do anything he didn’t want to wouldn’t work at all. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the
Chamber at nine tomorrow morning.”
Harry’s smile grew into a bright grin. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

“Me neither, my dear.” Tom gave Harry a wink before closing the mirror.

Urgh. Harry had it bad. He closed his eyes and not long after he found himself dreaming with
Tom, their souls pressed together in a firm embrace.

The next morning, Harry first ran to the owlery to send the letter to the Flamels with Hedwig,
and then he found it impossible to sit still during breakfast out of sheer excitement. He was
going to see Tom again and they’d continue their duelling lessons. After the confrontation
with Dumbledore the previous day Harry very much wanted to learn how to properly duel.
Speaking of Dumbledore, the old man was sitting in his usual seat, pretending that nothing
was amiss.

“I’ll see you later at lunch,” Harry told his friends before he rushed away. He made sure no
one followed him as he made his way to the second floor. Myrtle was nowhere to be seen,
thankfully, and Harry opened the entrance to the Chamber without any issues. He pulled his
Nimbus 2000 out of his bag and mounted it before flying down the black hole. The door
closed behind him with a bang. Harry kept on his broom, flying through the entire tunnel
before the metal door stopped him.

”Open!” Harry said happily, and the moment he fit through he flew into the Chamber of
Secrets. “Hi!” Harry yelled at Tom, who was doing some redecorating.

“Hello, my dear,” Tom said, rolling his eyes when Harry insisted on flying around the entire
chamber a few times, doing some loops and everything, before he touched down beside his
soulmate.

Tom had created a little nook near Salazar’s statue with a desk, some comfortable chairs and
a small coffee table. He’d also arranged for some duelling dummies which he placed around
the Chamber with a few waves of his wand.

Harry wanted nothing more than to jump Tom and kiss him silly, but he remembered at the
last second that he was inhabiting his eleven year old body and that would be very awkward
indeed.

“Today we’ll be focusing on your aim,” Tom said, gesturing at the dummies. “Start casting
stunners at the dummies as fast as you can from your current position. Aim for their chests.”

Harry leaned his broom against one of the chairs, got his wand out and then started casting.
He got most of the dummies, but he missed one or two of the ones further back.

“Now cast slower, try to hit all of them.” Tom stood watching carefully how Harry cast.
“Remember your breathing.”

That helped, for some reason. Harry applied some of the things Tom had taught him during
their first lesson back at Tom’s farmhouse. Changing his breathing helped him find a better
rhythm while casting.
“Good. Now go as quickly as possible again,” Tom said, arms crossed and his head tilted as
he watched closely.

This time Harry hit all dummies and he turned to look at Tom with a triumphant grin. “That
silly breathing really worked.”

Tom snorted and shoved the dummies further back with a few flicks of his wand. “Again.”

After almost two hours of Harry aiming and casting and breathing while Tom kept shuffling
the dummies all around the Chamber and even inside the pipes, Tom called it a day.

“Dobby, tea for two, please!” Tom called while Harry fell back into one of the lazy chairs,
utterly exhausted. His hair was plastered against his forehead and he wiped it off. Tom
poured them both steaming cups and handed one to Harry, who smiled in gratitude before
taking a fortifying sip.

“Aah,” Harry sighed, taking another sip. “I needed that.”

“You did well. You’re progressing quickly.” Tom’s look was full of pride, much to Harry’s
satisfaction. “You’d progress even further if you left Hogwarts.”

“Tom,” Harry said with a bit of a whine in his voice. “I don’t want to but I also can’t leave
Hogwarts.”

“How so?”

Harry sat up a little and gave Tom a serious look. “I really want to become an Unspeakable
and I have to do magical experiments, Perenelle told me. I want to figure out how the Room
of Requirement works. But in order to do so, I have to have access to the bloody room.
Hence I cannot leave Hogwarts at this time.”

“Interesting subject for experimentation,” Tom said while giving Harry a nod full of
understanding.

“Yeah, I thought so. I mean, how can an object know what people are thinking? It’s crazy
when you think about it.”

Tom’s smile grew into a bit of a smirk. “Look up any work by Gideon Gybbard in the
library.”

“What does he write about?” Harry asked while he quickly wrote that name down on a scrap
of paper he found in his bag.

“You’ll see.” Tom’s smirk grew even bigger. “Fair warning, though. His work is mostly
theoretical.”

They finished their tea and had a refill before Harry remembered something he wanted to
mention. “I could just take the aging potion when I get down here, right? That way we could
at least have a bit of a snog.”
Throwing his head back, Tom laughed long and loud. “Ah, you randy teenagers. Can’t go one
day without a bit of snogging.”

Cheeks burning, Harry glared at Tom. “You like the snogging, I know you do!”

“Yes, I most certainly do, my dear, but I can go without it for a few weeks.” Tom’s expression
went from utterly amused to neutral again. “But seriously, I advise you to learn duelling in
your current body first, since you need to know how to move in it.”

Sighing, Harry nodded his understanding. “Yeah, all right. That’s a fair point.” They chatted
for half an hour longer before Tom announced he had places to be. Harry quickly gave him a
hug before Tom could stop him and then he mounted his broom and flew all the way back to
the girls’ bathroom, his chest overflowing with warmth at having gotten to spend a few hours
with his soulmate.

Somehow Tom Riddle was utterly addictive, Harry now realized.

Before heading to lunch, Harry made a quick stop in the library. Madam Pince was sitting
behind her desk and Harry approached her carefully. “I’m looking for the work of Gideon
Gybbard.”

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes in clear suspicion. “Do you have a signed pass to the
Restricted Section?

“Er…no…I didn’t think I needed one,” Harry said, trying not to sound too frustrated.

Madam Pince slapped a blank permission slip on her desk in front of Harry, who quickly
snatched it up. He knew exactly who would sign that for him. Probably.

Theo and Blaise looked at him with wide eyes when Harry raced right past them in the Great
Hall only to make a beeline for the head table where Snape was seated.

“Potter, this better be important,” Snape snarled when Harry approached him.

Inhaling a couple of deep breaths, Harry offered Snape the form and a quill. “Could you
please sign this, Sir? It is vitally important.”

Snape rolled his eyes, released a sigh and quickly signed the form. “Next time meet me in my
office, like you’re supposed to.”

Harry beamed at him and finally made his way to his friends where he proudly showed off
his signed pass to the Restricted Section.

“Nice,” Blaise said with an admiring look at Harry. “Now you can go and see what they don’t
want us to know.”

“Exactly,” Harry said and then his stomach rumbled. “Right after lunch because I’m
famished.”
Harry all but devoured the sausage rolls and cucumber sandwiches, and almost choked as he
emptied a cup of pumpkin juice. He just couldn’t wait to find out what kind of thing Tom had
recommended he read.

Madam Pince looked Harry up and down a few times when he handed over his pass, and then
she waved him towards the Restricted Section. Harry almost skipped there, he was so
excited. He’d only ever been in the Restricted Section a handful of times, if even that, and
never with official permission, so this was a brand new experience.

It took him a while to find Gideon Gybbard but in the meantime he saw lots of interesting
titles he’d want to read at some point. Thankfully, Snape’s permission slip was good until the
end of the schoolyear.

Harry grabbed the biggest book with Gybbard’s name off the shelf and stared at the cover.

Sentient Wards

Harry blinked. What the hell were sentient wards?

 Chapter 49
Chapter Summary

Harry makes a huge discovery, Tom does some grovelling, Harry receives an awesome
gift and then needs some serious help.

Chapter Notes

Some of the ideas in this chapter have been on my mind since the start of this story. I'm
so happy to finally add them to the story. I hope you'll enjoy reading about them.

Thank you all so much for your patience and support for the two years I've been writing
this story. We're almost at 50 chapters, which is just incredible. Let me know what you
think! Your comments keep me writing.

Chapter 49

Harry met up with his friends in the Club House. He plopped down on the sofa next to
Neville and took out Gybbard’s book.

“Is that a book from the Restricted Section?” Blaise asked curiously, his voice purposefully a
little louder than usual.

Susan turned to Harry in shock. “You broke into the Restricted Section?”

“What? No.” Harry reached inside his bookbag and pulled out his permission slip. “I got a
pass.”

The permission slip was passed around from awed child to awed child.

“I can’t believe you got Snape to sign this for you,” Justin said, looking as though Harry had
managed to persuade Darth Vader himself to give him his autograph.

“He’s my Head of House,” Harry replied with a shrug, accepting the pass back and tucking it
away. Truthfully, Harry was surprised Snape had signed it, too, but he’d been so full of need
to get his hands on Gybbard’s work that he hadn’t considered that Snape was probably just as
likely to sneer and give him detention as he was to actually sign anything for Harry.

Hannah looked around the room with wide eyes. “But now we have someone on the inside.
Imagine, Harry can check out every single book from the Restricted Section and no one could
stop him.”

Sighing, Harry opened Gybbard’s book and tried to read, studiously ignoring the kids around
him.

“Harry, what do you think?” Hannah asked him with an expectant look.

“Let him read,” Neville said, much to Harry’s appreciation. Was this how Hermione had
always felt when she’d tried concentrating on a book while Harry and Ron were loudly
messing about around her? How the hell had she ever put up with their shenanigans?

Finally, the kids around him focussed on other things and Harry managed to concentrate on
Gybbard’s book.

What he found there was fascinating, even if it was mostly theoretical as Tom had warned.

Gybbard spoke of how magic gained a conscience of sorts if it was allowed to grow and gain
power over many, many years. This often expressed itself in the wards of very old magical
buildings, such as old Manor Homes, but also buildings like Hogwarts.

The wards essentially split themselves into surface wards and sentient wards. The surface
wards were the wards that someone could actively control, like McGonagall had done before
the battle of Hogwarts. But the sentient wards were much harder to find and to control. They
were to a building as subconscious thoughts were to the human mind.

Gybbard theorized that these sentient wards added to structures in ways that were entirely
unpredictable, but always in line with the building’s original function. Sentient wards in a
family home would always try to help look after the family. Sentient wards in a school would
always try to look after the students. But since they were very difficult to recognize, it could
be hard to pinpoint exactly what a sentient ward had changed.

By the time they left for dinner Harry had finished about a third of the book and he was
completely enthralled. This was the kind of magic he wanted to spend his time studying. Not
how to turn snuffboxes into mice.

“Interesting book?” Theo asked while they enjoyed their dinner of sweet and sour pork with
rice.

“So bloody interesting,” Harry said with a huge grin. “You can read it once I’m done.”

Theo perked up. He might not be interested in wards at all, as far as Harry knew, but the idea
of reading a ‘forbidden’ book from the Restricted Section was too good an offer to pass up.
“Thanks, Harry.”

Blaise looked between them and shook his head.

Over the next week Harry read Gybbard’s entire book. Twice. Gybbard theorized that the
place to find access to the sentient wards would always be the spot in the structure that had
been modified the most from its original purpose. But with very old buildings this might be
hard to figure out because often times the original purpose of most rooms was lost over the
years.

On Monday, Blaise attended Hermione’s Magical Law Group. He came back looking neither
impressed or unimpressed. “It’s open to all years,” Blaise explained while they sat in the
Slytherin common room. “There’s already been some interesting discussions.”

“Are there any other first years?” Harry asked curiously. He couldn’t see many eleven-year-
olds being interested in talking about magical law for two hours every week.

“Besides Granger and myself there’s Goldstein from Ravenclaw,” Blaise said with a casual
shrug. “He seems like a decent fellow. Clever and loves to argue the points he’s trying to
make.”

“So born to be a solicitor,” Theo said with a teasing smile.

“Seems like it.” Blaise stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, I’ll keep going. It’s been
surprisingly interesting so far.”

It became apparent that while Hermione’s Magical Law Group was a success, her Muggle
Appreciation Group tanked before it even got started because no one showed up. Hermione’s
official study group did attract some Ravenclaws and they could be often seen studying in the
library around the same times that Harry and his friends were there.

For the whole week Harry tried to figure out which part of Hogwarts was the most changed
from its original purpose. This seemed like a Herculean task in a building that was well over
a 1000 years old and of which no one remembered what anything was originally supposed to
do.

“I doubt you’ll ever figure it out,” Tom said with a sympathetic smile while they were talking
through their mirrors on Thursday evening. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the years ever
since I read Gybbard’s book in my sixth year and I never came to any solid conclusions.”

“So it’s not the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked with clear disappointment in his voice.

Tom shook his head. “Alas, my dear. I’ve searched the whole of the Chamber for any signs of
sentient wards but I never found any. The basilisk also couldn’t remember the Chamber
changing from any original purpose it might have had. Salazar Slytherin built it for the
purpose of housing a basilisk.”

“Fuck,” Harry muttered. This was a mystery he just had to solve or his own mind would
never let him rest.

After Harry closed the mirror and burrowed under his blankets, his belly filled with bitter
disappointment. If Tom had never found any evidence of sentient wards at Hogwarts, Harry
doubted he would, either. Tom had explored the whole bloody castle while he attended
Hogwarts.

Except… there was one room Tom had never found.

Harry sat up at once, heart hammering in his chest. There was one room in Hogwarts that
Tom had never found.

The Room of Requirement.

Tom had found the junk room where he’d hidden his horcrux, but he’d never realized what
that room was truly capable of. Just like Dumbledore once found a room full of chamber pots
in that location, and Trelawney found a place to store her empty bottles. They all found
something, but none of them ever understood what exactly the Room of Requirement truly
was and what it could do.

Harry almost fell out of bed in his hurry to get up, making more of a ruckus than he’d meant
to. Theo, who was in bed but still had his curtains open, looked at Harry with wide eyes
while Harry threw on some robes over his pyjamas and danced around trying to put on some
shoes.

“Everything all right?” Theo asked, sounding just a bit worried.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just had a bit of a breakthrough.” And with that Harry threw on his
invisibility cloak and ran out of the dormitory. He didn’t stop running until he reached the
seventh floor and stopped in front of that hideous tapestry.

“Okay,” Harry whispered, lowering the invisibility cloak so that his head was visible. “Hello,
Hogwarts,” Harry said as he walked back and forth in front of the blank wall. “Please show
me your ward room. Your sentient ward room. Please show me yourself, Hogwarts.”

A door appeared.

Swallowing against nerves that rose up from his chest, Harry slowly pushed the door open
and peeked inside. What he saw defied every expectation of wards he’d ever had. The room
that lay beyond was the size of a small cathedral and every single surface was covered by
runes that lit up in different intervals, as though they were trying to communicate.

At no point did Harry think it would be a bad idea to step in that room. This was Hogwarts.
Harry knew with certainty that he would be safe in her heart.

And Hogwarts was a she, Harry was sure of it now. She felt like a she.

“Hi,” Harry said with a bit of a lump in his throat as he stared up and around in awe while the
door fell shut behind him. “Hi, Hogwarts. I’m Harry. I’m so honoured to meet you.”

Runes lit up in a quickly blinking pattern, conveying some form of enthusiasm, so it seemed
Hogwarts was happy to meet him, too.

“Thanks for letting me use your heart to help the students in my previous life. You kept a lot
of us safe, you know.” Harry sat down in the centre of the room. “Would it be okay if I called
my friend?”

A whole wall of runes lit up, as though Hogwarts was eager to meet more people.
Harry pulled the mirror out of his pocket and flipped it open.

Tom answered after half a minute. “Harry, everything all right?”

Unable to stop his eyes from filling with a few tears, Harry gave Tom a watery smile. “Tom,
soulmate, meet Hogwarts.” He flipped the mirror around. “Hogwarts, meet Tom, an old
student of yours.”

Hogwarts flickered a whole array of multicoloured runes in greeting.

“What the fuck,” Tom gasped as Harry slowly moved the mirror around so Tom could see the
whole room. “What is this? Harry, where did you find it?”

“The Room of Requirement.” Harry wiped at his cheeks, his chest full of warm, comforting
emotions. “Gybbard was right about everything.”

“Well yes, I had suspected that for a long time,” Tom said when Harry flipped the mirror
back around to look at his soulmate.

“Gybbard said that you would find the sentient wards in the place that had been modified the
most, right?”

“Yes,” Tom agreed a bit hesitantly.

“That’s what I’ve discovered,” Harry said with a smile while his eyes kept filling with tears,
the stupid things. “No one built the Room of Requirement, Tom. It evolved.”

“Fucking hell,” Tom whispered, eyes wide as he stared at Harry. “Do you have any idea how
big of a discovery this is? You’ve found evidence of sentient wards and you’ve proven that
magic can evolve on its own.”

“Yeah, it only takes a thousand years, but it’s possible,” Harry agreed with a raspy laugh.
“Hogwarts was always there to help her students and that’s what her sentient wards created.
A specific place that will give you whatever will help you at that moment.”

“It’s incredible.” Tom swallowed. His eyes seemed suspiciously bright, too. Not that this
surprised Harry. If there was anything Tom had ever genuinely cared for, it was Hogwarts.

Something struck Harry then, an absolutely horrible realization. “Oh my fucking god, we
killed her.”

“What?” Tom demanded, eyes blazing.

“In my first life,” Harry said, stumbling over the words while his whole chest compressed
with instant grief. “Crabbe cast Fiendfyre in here and we couldn’t stop it. We destroyed
Hogwarts, her heart and her soul, Tom.”

Swallowing, Tom shook his head. “You did not destroy anything, my dear. One of my
incompetent followers did. If anyone bears blame for this it’s me, not you. I taught those
junior Death Eaters how to cast Fiendfyre in the first place, knowing full well most of them
would never be able to control it.” Tom hung his head and released a deep sigh. “It amused
me, the idea of them destroying themselves with their own magic. But I never would have
wanted for it to destroy Hogwarts’ heart, not even then.”

Harry was busy wiping at his cheeks again. He placed a hand on the stone floor beside him.
“I’m sorry, Hogwarts,” he whispered with a wet sniff. “That I couldn’t protect you.” Right
beneath his hand Hogwarts lit up a circle of runes in warm, comforting colours and Harry
patted the floor a few times in appreciation.

“Could you give me some paper, ink and quills, Hogwarts?” Harry asked when he’d finally
calmed down. Hogwarts gave him all of that in the blink of an eye, and more. A small desk
appeared with a chair. Hogwarts knew better what Harry needed than Harry himself,
apparently.

Seating himself behind the desk, Harry placed the mirror on the desktop so that Tom could
see him and then he started writing a long letter to the Flamels about his discoveries while he
discussed everything he was writing with his soulmate. He was sure the Flamels would
appreciate what he’d learned so far, even if it was entirely possible that they already knew all
of this. One didn’t live for almost 700 years without making a few interesting discoveries,
Harry was sure.

It was three in the morning before Harry closed the mirror and said his goodbyes to Hogwarts
with promises to return soon. And he would. Spending time in Hogwarts’ heart had done
such wonderful things for Harry’s peace of mind. It had settled worries he hadn’t even
realized were there in his mind. Hogwarts’ magic was benign and comforting and caring, like
being held in a warm embrace by someone who loved you unconditionally.

Perhaps if Harry had enjoyed a normal upbringing, he might have recognized it as a mother’s
embrace, but unfortunately Harry had no clue about any of those things. But it did explain
why people like Tom and Harry and Snape and Sirius had always felt such a strong
appreciation for Hogwarts. Had genuinely loved her. It certainly explained why Neville was
the one who developed such a strong bond with the Room of Requirement in their previous
life.

Hogwarts gave them what they so obviously lacked in their own lives, even if none of them
realized what exactly it was.

Harry managed to brew a reasonable potion the next morning during Snape’s class, even if
Snape gave him a few sneers for obviously appearing much more dishevelled than usual.
Right after classes Harry hurried up to the owlery and sent Hedwig off to the Flamels with his
detailed report of Hogwarts’ sentient wards.

It wasn’t until he sat down for lunch with his friends that Harry realized that in his
impulsivity he’d probably given far too much away to the Flamels. Harry closed his eyes and
shook his head. There went his plan of being a talented student but not a genius of any kind.
Here he was, pretending to be eleven while uncovering mysteries that other, far smarter
people than him hadn’t managed to figure out in decades.
Fucking hell, Harry really was a Gryffindor at heart, wasn’t he? He couldn’t think or plan two
steps ahead even if his life depended on it.

As they made their way to the library after lunch to finish their homework before the
weekend like usual, Harry and a few others noticed lots of announcements of new Student
Groups on the public notice board beside the library entrance. It seemed like plenty of
students were taking advantage of the Hogwarts Book of Rules and Regulations.

“A Dragon Appreciation Group?” Neville asked a little dubiously. “Who would start such a
thing?”

“I’m sure that person is a 4th year Hufflepuff,” Susan said with a little sigh. “We all know
he’s a little obsessed with dragons. I suppose he wants to share the love.”

“No, this one,” Blaise said with a snicker. “The Help Me Pass My Arithmancy Group.” They
all chuckled at that one.

“What’s this?” Theo wondered. “A Fantasy Quidditch Group.”

“Oh, oh,” Justin said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m sure I know what that means.
You pick your own sports team for the season, any player from any team, and whoever has
the best season with those players wins in the end.”

“Okay, that sounds brilliant,” Theo conceded. “Who is running it?”

“Angelina Johnson.” Harry perked up. “She’s a Gryffindor, on the Quidditch team as a
Chaser.”

Theo, Harry and Blaise shared a look. “I’m signing up,” Harry said without any doubt.
“Sounds like a good deal of fun.” And it would help Harry ward off any boredom about being
stuck in classes all day he already knew by heart.

Theo, Blaise, Ernie and Hannah all agreed to sign up as well, since they were all pretty
fanatical about Quidditch in their own right. The group meetings were on Sunday evenings,
so they could fit that into their schedules.

The next morning Harry met with Tom in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Harry, this is a ludicrous idea,” Tom said when Harry offered him his invisibility cloak.

Waving the Marauder’s Map in Tom’s face, Harry grinned at him. “No, it’s not. We won’t
meet anyone, I’ll make sure of that. But you’ve got to meet Hogwarts in person, Tom. It’s an
indescribable experience.”

“Fine,” Tom conceded with a sigh, but Harry could tell from the shine in his eyes that Tom
was genuinely excited to meet Hogwarts face to face. “But if I have to fight my way out of
the castle I’m blaming you.”

“It won’t come to that.” Harry activated the Marauder’s Map while Tom ducked under the
cloak. He had to walk almost in a crouch, ridiculously tall human being that he was, but they
made it work. Harry chose the route that kept them well away from all staff and most
students and after fifteen minutes they made it to the seventh floor.

Harry barely had to call for Hogwarts before the door appeared. It seemed Hogwarts was as
eager to see them as they were to see her.

At first the runes lit up with bright, yellow and white lights as they entered. But as soon as
the door fell shut behind them, the lights turned darker, with blues and greens and even
browns.

Harry stared around with wide eyes until he realized what Hogwarts was doing. It was
scolding Tom.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said with real emotion in his voice, understanding perfectly what was
happening. He fell to his knees and lowered his torso, forehead to the ground, arms spread
out before him. Harry gasped when he realized Tom was subjugating himself before
Hogwarts. “I am so sorry for all the mistakes I’ve made and for all the misdeeds I’ve done.”

Hogwarts blinked the dark runes at him for a while longer, as though reading him the riot act,
but eventually the colours lightened again and the air noticeably shifted to a much more
pleasant atmosphere.

“Thank you,” Tom whispered, keeping his head down for a while longer. It seemed as though
Hogwarts had forgiven him. “I’ll do better, I swear it.”

Harry gave Tom a fierce hug once Tom finally got up to this feet again. He was so proud of
his soulmate, of how far he’d come. Harry doubted Tom would ever apologize for his past
mistakes and misdeeds to anyone other than Harry and Hogwarts itself, but the fact that Tom
apologized at all was worth a lot to Harry.

“You’re right,” Tom whispered, looking around in awe, eyes wide and mouth opened, while
Harry still had him in a death grip. “This is absolutely indescribable. Never in my wildest
dreams did I ever think I’d get to meet Hogwarts herself.” Tom’s lips pulled up in a smile that
made him seem ten years younger. “It’s so nice to meet you, Hogwarts.”

Many runes lit up with all the colours of the rainbow in a festive display of welcome.

They didn’t get around to practicing duelling that day, but instead spent all their time together
inside Hogwarts’ heart, getting to know her a bit better while they enjoyed each other’s
company.

The next day at breakfast, Harry received a huge package delivered by three eagle owls.
Attached to it was a small envelope that Harry opened first. It held a compact mirror for
communications and a note that read: Thank you for solving the mystery that has kept us up
at night for many years now. Look into the mirror and say our names – N&P

Harry tucked the note and mirror inside his pocket and then ripped open the package. It was a
huge gift basket from Honeydukes, full of every kind of chocolate bar they sold.
Draco narrowed his eyes in obvious envy. “More gifts from your adoring fans, Potter?”

Shrugging, Harry gave Draco his most level look and said in a snooty tone, “Nah, just did a
little job for the Flamels they were having trouble with, so they sent me a token of their
appreciation.”

Beside him, Blaise cracked up while Theo stared at him with wide eyes. Harry still hadn’t
informed Theo what had really happened during his meeting with the Flamels, and Theo
must be wondering if Harry really got away with stealing the Philosopher’s Stone.

“That is a generous gift,” Tracey said while staring at the basket in awe.

“We’re meeting in the Club House later,” Harry said to her with a wink. “I’ll bring it and then
we can all gorge ourselves.” Harry loved chocolate, he really did, but even he couldn’t eat
that much of it without becoming violently sick. Best to share it with his friends.

Before heading to the Club House Harry excused himself and found an empty classroom
which he quickly warded for privacy. Then he opened the compact mirror the Flamels had
sent him and said, “Nicholas and Perenelle.”

It took a few minutes, but then Nicholas’ head appeared, bushy white hair and all. “There he
is! Nelle, come quickly, it’s the boy!”

“Hi,” Harry said when Perenelle came into view as well. “Thanks for the chocolate!”

Perenelle waved his gratitude away. “You,” she said and narrowed her eyes at him. “You! Tell
me, how did you find this room so quickly? We have roamed around Hogwarts for years and
years and never found any sign of her sentient wards.”

Harry chuckled and decided to be as honest as he could without giving away his little do-over
adventure. “A house-elf told me about it when I asked it for a good place to meet. The house-
elves call it the Come and Go room because it appears and disappears as needed.”

“A house-elf?” Perenelle said as though she’d never heard of such a thing before. “All we
had to do is ask a bloody house-elf?” She released a strangled sound of sheer frustration.

“They’re far more useful than people think,” Harry said happily because he genuinely loved
house-elves and always thought that most other people didn’t appreciate them enough.

“Evidently,” Nicholas said with an amused little smirk while he glanced at his wife, who was
still having a bit of an emotional episode. “Well done, child.”

Harry glowed at the compliment. He couldn’t help it.

“You’ve certainly proven that you can think outside the box,” Perenelle eventually conceded
and she gave Harry a nod. “Well done.”

“Now you must write a paper!” Nicholas said in a tone that brooked no argument. “The world
needs to know about this.”
“Er…” That was honestly the last thing Harry wanted, to draw that kind of attention to
himself. He tried changing the subject. “Do you think Gybbard is still alive? I’d be happy to
send him a letter about my discoveries.”

“You already did,” Perenelle said with a snicker.

Nicholas gestured between himself and his wife. “We like to use pseudonyms when
publishing our books. Our names bring the wrong kind of attention to the work. People are
blinded by the names to the point that they no longer see our discoveries.”

With a shrewd look, Perenelle looked from Nicholas to Harry. “Perhaps the boy should do the
same. His name is far too well known, plus he is still a child. No one will take his work
seriously otherwise.”

“That is a great idea,” Harry agreed at once. If he used a pseudonym he didn’t have to worry
about seeming too smart and no one would fall over the fact that Harry Potter was a child
genius or something silly like that. “I’ll do that.”

“Excellent,” Nicholas said with a proud smile.

“Send us a copy of your paper so we can help you whip it into shape,” Perenelle offered,
much to Harry’s relief, because it was at that moment that Harry realized he had no idea how
to write an official paper on a magical discovery.

Harry talked with the Flamels for a few minutes more before saying goodbye. He joined his
friends in the Club House where they all stuffed themselves with chocolate to the point none
of them could eat lunch.

That evening Harry, Theo and Blaise trooped to the Great Hall for their first Fantasy
Quidditch Group meeting. Angelina had received so much interest in her group that the only
place big enough to meet was in the Great Hall. For the occasion Angelina had all but
commandeered the Gryffindor House table and when everyone had arrived they filled up
more than half of it. Ron was there was well, as were Fred and George. The latter studiously
ignored Harry, and Harry did the same with them. Once upon a time he’d really liked the
Twins, but ever since they’d split Harry’s skull open that relationship had cooled
significantly.

Angelina did a good job at introducing the rules and the purpose of the group and they spent
a lot of time arguing with each other which players were better and who to choose to pick
their own perfect teams. It was a lot of fun and a great distraction from all other stuff going
on in their lives and by the end of the group all participants seemed wildly enthusiastic about
it.

There was an instant increase on subscriptions to Quidditch Weekly and old copies changed
hands for quite a few sickles. Harry was glad Barty got him a subscription for Yule because
he had a lot of studying to do about certain players before he added them to his own team.

On Monday Harry received a letter from Madam Longbottom on behalf of the Board of
Governors. They’d received and reviewed his complaint about Headmaster Dumbledore and
had concluded that his complaint was valid. Headmaster Dumbledore had received a formal
warning that if he personally approached Harry outside of very specific academic purposes
again he would lose his position within Hogwarts. Harry tucked that letter away with a huge
smile on his face. That would keep Dumbledore away from him unless Harry himself
provoked him again, which he had no plans to do.

Another thing that was new that following week was the election of the Board of Students. It
was a simple vote of popularity. Every student got a voting form where they could tick off the
name of their choice of student. The seven students with the most votes would take place on
the Board of Students. It was all pretty straight forwards, but still exciting because it had been
many years since an official Board of Students had been allowed to form. In the end Two
Gryffindors, Two Slytherins, Two Ravenclaws and One Hufflepuff took place on the board,
much to Hannah’s dismay.

“Why is it always the Hufflepuffs who lose out in these matters,” Hannah said with an
enormous pout when they gathered in the library. “It’s just not fair.”

Harry shrugged. “But you got Cedric Diggory as your choice of Hufflepuff to join the Board.
He counts for at least two others.”

Daphne gave Harry a bit of a knowing look. “He is very pleasant on the eyes, isn’t he?”

“That he is,” Harry agreed in all honestly. Cedric had always been a handsome boy in his
own right.

“Hey,” Hannah said with an affronted look. “Stop drooling over our Cedric!”

Harry chuckled and opened a scroll of parchment to continue on his first draft of his official
paper on Sentient Wards. He sighed and tapped his quill against his cheek and wondered how
to word anything at all. He’d been trying and failing for several days by that point.

Truth was, Harry needed help. He had no clue how to write a paper like this, how to structure
it, what sort of language to use. He needed expert help, but he didn’t want to ask Tom. Harry
wanted to give Tom a decent first draft to read, so Tom could see for himself that Harry was
capable of doing his own research and such. In other words, Harry wanted Tom to be proud
of him, not hold his hand through the whole process.

But Harry needed help. Thankfully, Harry was friends with a Ravenclaw. That night in bed,
Harry opened his mirror.

“Barty,” Harry said with an urgent look when his friend answered. “I need your help.”
 Chapter 50
Chapter Summary

Harry takes on a few more projects, muses about a new identiy, receives some personal
attention from
Tom and finally Sirius has an unexpected surprise for him.

Chapter Notes

We're at chapter 50! After just over 2 years and 230k words we made it to 50 whole
chapters. Whoo! When I started this story I knew it was going to be long but I had no
idea how epic it was truly going to be. I still love writing it and I hope to keep writing it
for a good while still to come.

Fun fact: the little cliffie at the end of this chapter is one I have been planning from the
very beginning. It's one thing I've wanted to subvert for years. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading, as always, and thank you for sticking with this story for 50 chapters
and counting. Let me know what you think. It's your comments that have gotten me this
far!

Chapter 50

“You discovered Hogwarts’ sentient ward room and you took our Lord to see it and you
never even told me?” Barty had a look of utter hurt and betrayal on his face after Harry was
done telling him about his discoveries.

Well, when you put it like that, Harry did feel a bit bad about forgetting to include Barty in
his amazing discoveries. “Sorry. I’ll take you to see it next Saturday. Just have Tom side-
apparate you to the Chamber of Secrets, and we’ll use the invisibility cloak.”

Barty’s face cleared up at once and he gave Harry a huge grin. “Deal. If you do that, I’ll help
you with whatever you need.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Harry sighed, letting himself fall back onto his bed in sheer relief. “The
Flamels insist I write a paper about my discoveries but I have no idea how to write one.”

“All right, get some paper and quill,” Barty said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, not at all
put off by the idea of advanced academics. If anything, he looked like this was his moment to
shine, finally.

Harry scrambled for his trunk and got what he needed and then he spent an hour listening to
Barty lecture about academic papers while Harry took notes as if his life depended on it.
Possibly also his sanity. But Barty was an excellent teacher and when they said their
goodbyes Harry had an idea of where to start at least. Barty also promised to read through
every draft Harry sent him and correct what was needed.

As he turned on his side, Harry placed the mirror beside the other communication mirrors he
now had. One from Sirius, and one from the Flamels. This was getting ludicrous. Imagine if
he eventually also made some mirrors for his friends, so they could easily talk over the
summer. He’d be stuck with a dozen mirrors then.

Frowning, Harry turned on his back and stared at the green curtains above him. That was a
great idea, actually. If they all had mirrors they could easily talk throughout the summer,
perhaps set up some dates to meet up in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. And when Harry
decided to quit Hogwarts early, which he was fairly certain he would at some point, he could
still keep in touch with his friends here and keep those relationships current and active.
Besides, Harry truly wanted to stay in touch with his friends. He’d miss them whenever he
finally decided to leave Hogwarts behind.

That could be a new project, though, couldn’t it? While he worked diligently on writing the
paper on sentient wards, Harry could start constructing a communications mirror that could
hold as many contacts as was needed. Or that worked with specific identifiers, like a number
for a muggle telephone. It was just about February, so that gave Harry a month or four to get
the project done before they went home for the summer.

As Harry’s eyes drooped shut he made a mental note to talk to Tom about this. His soulmate
knew how to create communication mirror from scratch, so he was bound to have some
decent advice.

“It’s a lot more complicated than it seems,” Tom told him the next evening after Harry
explained his new project to him. “The reason I was able to link our three mirrors was
because they were together when I created them. That is not a problem. But it is as of yet
impossible to add a mirror that wasn’t in the vicinity to it after the creation of the main
mirror.”

“Okay,” Harry whispered with a thoughtful frown. “So I can at least make one mirror for all
my friends, as long as I create them all at the same time.”

Tom nodded in agreement. “Exactly. But you cannot add your Godfather’s mirror to ours.
That is something you must work on if that is what you want to do. I suspect you’ll need a
better grasp of ancient runes than you have now.”

“Yeah,” Harry conceded with a sigh. “Much of ancient runes remains a mystery.” He perked
up a little as he remembered something. “I got some books for Yule on runes, and I still got
lots from the Room of Requirement I need to read through.”
“There you go,” Tom said with a knowing chuckle. “You’ve got plenty to keep yourself busy.
I’ll send you a box of mirrors and instructions on how to create communication mirrors with
those, but after that you’re on your own.”

“Thanks.” Harry blew Tom an exaggerated kiss. He didn’t mind the challenge, not at all. It
would be a nice distraction from breaking his mind over his academic paper while dying of
boredom during every single class he took.

By the end of the week Harry did receive a box full of twenty compact mirrors with detailed
instructions. Theo and Blaise were in the dormitory when Harry opened the box and
inspected its contents.

“Something tells me you’re not quite vain enough for that amount of mirrors to make sense,”
Blaise said while he raised both eyebrows in a silent question.

“You’d be right.” Harry grinned at his two closest friends and placed the whole box in his
trunk. He kept the instructions to study them later. “I’m going to create communication
mirrors for all of us to use during the summer.

“That is a great idea,” Theo said at once, looking rather surprised no one else had thought of
such an idea before.

“Quite advanced magic, though,” Blaise pointed out, his face or voice giving nothing away of
his real thoughts. “For a first year.”

Harry waved the smalls stack of papers around. “I have a very smart friend who sent me step-
by-step instructions. I’ve got 4 months to master the magic. I think I’ll manage it.”

“Hm,” was all Blaise said in reply before going back to the Quidditch magazine in his lap.
The Fantasy Quidditch group proved a huge success and a welcome distraction to all its
members.

As Harry read through Tom’s notes in bed later that night he had to concede that the magic
was fairly complicated, especially the runic arrays. Not for the first time Harry cursed at
himself for not taking runes in his previous life. It would have saved him so much time now.
But Harry also realized that if he wanted to master this type of magic, and more importantly
improve upon it, he really needed to understand ancient runes from the ground up. And while
Harry had been reading beginner’s runes books since the start of the school year, he’d not
gone about it in a very organized fashion. Perhaps it was time to change that once and for all.

So that became Harry’s mission that week. He sorted through every single runes book he had
and placed them in order of advanced subject matter. Then he started at the bottom, with the
simplest text, and even if he’d already read them, he read all of it again. Except this time he
also took the time to practice with the beginner runes. He carved runes into small cubes of
wood and created simple wards, lights and fire. And most importantly, Harry truly started to
understand the patterns between the different runes when placed in certain runic arrays.

He brought his runes books to every class and kept one opened under his other books so he
could read whenever professors lectured on subjects he already knew.
And even that Saturday, when he smuggled Barty into the Room of Requirement, Harry took
his time to study the many, many runes across the walls and floors. Most of it went straight
over his head, but Harry started recognizing small clusters of runes. For protection, for light,
for peace, for warmth, and a few more. Well, at least he was making progress, even if it was
slow going just yet.

“This is absolutely the most amazing thing I have ever seen,” Barty said, face slack with awe
as he slowly walked around the sentient ward room. “Hogwarts, you are magnificent.”

Hogwarts flashed some rosy pink colours at Barty, as though she was blushing at hearing his
compliments.

It took Harry a total of three weeks, but by the end of February he had a solid understanding
of basic runes and the notes that Tom had sent him for creating communication mirrors
actually started to make sense. Harry also finished half a first draft for his paper, which he
sent to Barty with no small amount of trepidation.

That night, Harry found himself in an argument with Tom. “I think James Newman is a great
pseudonym.”

“Harry,” Tom said with a sigh yet his eyes remained terribly fond. “The point of a good
pseudonym is that it has no connection to your own name. So perhaps using your own middle
name is not a clever idea.”

“So I should just use a word play then, like the Flamels?” Harry asked, feeling just a bit
chagrined. He’d spent a long time thinking up his new name. James, because it was his
middle name, yes, and Newman, because he was a new man. A reborn one, even.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked with a frown, his tone more than a little demanding. If
there was something Tom couldn’t stand, it was when someone else knew something he
didn’t.

Harry couldn’t hold back a bit of a smug grin. “Gybbard? It’s so obvious.”

“What is obvious?” Tom brought the mirror closer to his face, eyes narrowed as he glared at
Harry in sheer frustration.

“Gybbard? Gib bard? Gibbering bard.” Harry started chuckling when Tom’s mouth dropped
open in astonishment. “I can’t believe I figured that out before you.”

“Well, it’s not a terribly clever word play, now is it,” Tom said with obviously wounded
pride. He sniffed and pretended to take his time to pick up his cup of tea.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, still chuckling madly. “You can’t win them all, soulmate.”

“At least change the first name,” Tom said after he’d taken a few fortifying sips of tea.
“Newman is fine, I suppose. A little muggle, but fine.”

Snorting, Harry considered what sort of name would suit him. “How about Leo? That means
lion, right? Leo Newman.”
“That’s very muggle,” Tom said with a wrinkle of his nose in obvious distaste.

“Leonardo Newman,” Harry offered with an expectant look, so fucking amused by Tom’s
quiet dramatics.

“That does sound like a half-blood,” Tom mused before he nodded. “And that is perfectly
acceptable, I suppose.”

“Thank you, oh mighty Lord,” Harry said with an exaggerated bow. “For approving of my
half-bloodedness.”

Rolling his eyes, Tom quickly changed the subject to rid himself of Harry’s dramatics,
probably. “I’ve been considering what to do about my followers who are still in Azkaban.”

That sobered up Harry more than a bucket of ice water to the face would have done. “The
fuck, Tom? You’re not unleashing Bellatrix, are you?”

“No, not Bella, no,” Tom replied quickly, though he did seem privately very amused by
Harry’s response. “She’s too far gone for polite society. But there are others in Azkaban who
perhaps don’t necessarily deserve a life sentence.”

“Tom,” Harry said urgently, bringing the mirror closer to his face. “Tom, don’t do anything
stupid.”

“I certainly wasn’t planning to,” Tom replied with an affronted look. “I haven’t decided
anything yet, my dear. I’m merely tossing some ideas around.”

Harry nodded, at least grateful Tom was willing to talk about those ideas in front of him. “I
appreciate you sharing your thoughts,” he said quickly so Tom at least understood that much.
“But I have to confess that I’m not very happy with the idea of a bunch of Death Eaters being
released back into the wild, as it were.”

Tom blinked a few times while giving Harry a confused look. “You’re friends with Barty.
He’s one of my Death Eaters that was released into the wild, as you say.”

Shaking his head, Harry waved his hand around in an impatient gesture. “That’s Barty.
He’s…well, not harmless, exactly, but he’s not insane. You know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t release the insane ones, Harry,” Tom said in a quiet voice. His expression was
both troubled and determined and Harry had a sudden thought.

“Tom. Have you been feeling guilty or something?” Harry asked slowly with a worried
frown. “About your own past? Again?”

“I always feel guilty about that,” Tom said with a dismissive snort. “No, I was thinking I
could use Dolohov’s expertise in wards during a recent job when I realized he was still in
Azkaban.”

“Ah.” That made sense, Harry supposed. This whole subject made Harry feel more than a
little uneasy. He certainly understood why Tom would feel guilty about his followers’ fates,
and he could even admit that perhaps not all of them were murderous lunatics like Bellatrix
Lestrange was. Barty had turned out to be a decent bloke and a great friend. But Harry’s
stomach still turned into knots just at the thought of Tom breaking out some of his followers
from Azkaban.

“I’m just thinking about it,” Tom said in a placating tone when he noticed Harry’s very real
turmoil. “I won’t do anything without running it by you first, I promise.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a weary sigh. “I’ll give it some thought as well.” Perhaps that way
Harry might come to grips with the whole mess without suffering from an acute anxiety
attack as he was doing now.

The next morning in the Great Hall, Dumbledore ignored Harry studiously, as he’d been
doing ever since their confrontation in the entrance hall a month before. The warning he’d
received from the Board of Governors had apparently been enough to get him to truly back
off, at least for now.

No matter the reason, Harry was grateful Dumbledore simply left him alone. Especially since
he kept meeting with Tom in the Chamber of Secrets at least once a week. And since it was
Saturday, Harry finished his breakfast in record time and then all but skipped to the second
floor to meet with Tom in the Chamber.

Tom had a surprise waiting for him. A very welcome surprise. Up until that moment Harry
had been drilled on his posture and his breathing and his aim and his ability to duck and
dodge, over and over again, always in his eleven-year-old body. They hadn’t even started on
actual duelling yet, but Tom promised that they would soon.

Now Tom handed him a vial with a grin. Harry recognized it at once. It was the aging potion
Tom had created for him. Tom then pointed at a small pile of clothes in an adult size.

“For real?” Harry asked, his heart pounding in his chest in anticipation.

“I want you to learn the basics in your adult body as well,” Tom explained while Harry all but
ripped his clothes off, uncaring about being naked in front of Tom. “After that we’ll move on
to your spell repertoire and spell chaining sequences.”

“Sure, whatever.” Harry was so overjoyed that he could be an adult again, even for a few
hours, that he would have agreed to pretty much anything. He quickly downed the potion and
then yanked his briefs off before they became too tight in his most sensitive places. The
transition to his adult body was familiar by now and didn’t take more than a minute. Harry
immediately got dressed again because the Chamber was quite chilly and he didn’t want Tom
to get the wrong idea about the size of Harry’s private bounty.

Tom still snickered at seeing Harry hop around to pull on socks and shoes, but then Harry
righted himself and stepped up to Tom.

“Hi,” Harry breathed, unable to take his eyes off Tom’s lips. They hadn’t had a good snog
since the holidays and it was March by now.
“Hello,” Tom replied with a knowing smile.

“Missed you,” Harry whispered, stepping a little closer still until they were standing toe to
toe.

“You see me every week and we talk almost every day,” Tom pointed out reasonably, but
Harry stopped him from making even more sense by pressing his lips to Tom’s. Even though
Tom loved playing it cool, he still immediately deepened their kiss and buried his fingers in
Harry’s hair. Moaning, Harry wound his arms around Tom’s neck and ground his groin
against Tom’s thigh. Holy fuck, he was instantly horny and so ready to do all sorts of sexy
things with his soulmate. It must be the hormones in his adult body.

Chuckling, Tom pulled back, licking his lips while he gave Harry a knowing look. “We’re not
going to do that here and now, my dear.”

“I know, I know.” Harry shook his head in regret. Tom was right, probably. And Harry could
control himself, maybe.

“Get in position,” Tom said and sadly, he meant a duelling stance, not anything far more
exciting. With a flick of his wand, Tom placed the duelling dummies around the Chamber
and Harry got ready to practice his aim. Again.

Harry practiced hard in his adult body and since he already knew how to do all of this in his
child body he picked it all up very quickly. As a reward, after two hours of continuous work,
Tom snogged him for a good ten minutes. Harry ended up humping Tom’s leg again and he
wasn’t even embarrassed about it.

This time Tom laughed outright while he pulled away from Harry. “If you simply quit
Hogwarts we could certainly speed up those types of developments in the privacy of our own
home.”

“That’s cheating,” Harry groaned, giving Tom a dirty look. “Tempting me with such things
while my dick’s hard is just not fair, soulmate.” Harry fell back into one of the leather chairs
in their little sitting area and quickly crossed one leg over the other. “I can’t think straight
when I’m hard.”

“Yes, I know,” Tom said with a smile that was made of nothing but satisfaction. “Most men
can’t.”

“Ugh.” Harry leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re so manipulative, it’s
not fair.”

“Slytherin,” Tom said as though that answered everything. On second thought, it did. “I think
I have a plan for my Azkaban dilemma.”

“Oh, keep talking,” Harry said, eyes still closed. “This subject is making my boner go away.
It’s brilliant.”
Rolling his eyes, Tom summoned Dobby and asked for tea and biscuits. When Dobby
delivered the goods, Tom poured them both a cup of tea and placed two of Harry’s favourite
chocolate biscuits on a little plate for him. “Here, this might settle your hormones a little.”

Harry blinked his eyes open. “Since when is tea a cure for an erection?”

“We’re English, Harry,” Tom insisted while he sipped his own cup. “Tea is a cure for
everything.”

They spent a few moments sipping their cups, which gave Harry the opportunity to manage
to think with the right head again. “So what’s your plan?” Harry asked before biting into a
biscuit. He was feeling rather peckish after all his hard work earlier.

“I want to free Dolohov, Rookwood and Mulciber from Azkaban,” Tom said with a
contemplative look on his face. “All of them are reasonable human beings. All of them would
be happy to assume a new identity and lay low. All of them would also be happy to see
myself as I am now, I’m sure.”

“Right,” Harry said vaguely as he gave that some thought. “Bella and the Lestranges would
never go for this new and improved Tom Riddle is what you mean.”

“Exactly.” Tom heaved a deep, slightly disappointed sigh. “They were fanatical followers of
Voldemort right from the start. They truly believed in everything that Voldemort spouted.
They would never agree to simply build a new life for themselves under a new identity.”

“I’m okay with it as long as that’s what those Death Eaters end up doing,” Harry said after
giving it some quick thought. “Like Barty. New name, new face, new life. No more
violence.”

“That is the plan, yes.” Tom got a hard look on his face, eyes narrowed and flinty. “And if
one of them refuses to do so, or later on starts any kind of trouble anyway, I will personally
deal with them.”

“As long as you make sure of that, I’m okay with it.” Harry blinked a few times, realization
setting in that made his stomach flip. “How are you getting into Azkaban? What if you get
caught?”

“I’m not getting caught,” Tom said at once, though he didn’t seem at all angry that Harry
would worry about that. If anything, he looked downright besotted while he looked at Harry.
“Stop worrying so much. I’m going to get them out all at once and replace them with
muggles under Polyjuice potion. I’ll have the dementors suck out the souls of those muggles
and make it look like an escape attempt gone horribly wrong. That way no one will be
suspicious and my followers can build a new life for themselves without the Ministry
breathing down their necks.”

“Not a bad plan,” Harry conceded but he wasn’t about to agree to murder, not even of
muggles. “Which muggles are you using?”

“Your relatives?” Tom asked with a cheeky grin.

“No!” Harry despised the Dursleys but he wasn’t about to subject them to a dementor’s kiss.
Uncaring bastards that they were, they were still his relatives.

“Pity.” Tom sipped his cup while giving Harry an amused glance, as though seeing Harry so
worked up over his relatives was the funniest thing he’d seen in a while. “Nah, my dear, I’ve
already selected a muggle prison that houses some truly despicable sex offenders. Do you
have any objections that I use a few of those?”

Harry wanted to object, just on principle. But then he considered things and he found that he
truly didn’t mind if a few rapists and such ended up kissed by dementors. It was certainly
better than using innocent people. “Nah, it’s fine. Just, please be careful.” Harry gave his
soulmate a truly desperate look. “If I lose you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Tom’s face softened and he gave Harry a knowing smile. “I’ll be careful, my dear, I promise.
Please do the same for me.”

“Hey,” Harry said, sitting up a little and giving Tom an offended look. “I’ve been perfectly
behaved this last month. Been studying runes and keeping my head down and everything.”

“Yes, after you all but challenged Dumbledore to curse you,” Tom said in a snooty tone and
then poured them both more tea.

“You can’t keep rubbing that in my face,” Harry pointed out, though he couldn’t hold back a
grin at his soulmate’s antics. It was nice to see that Tom worried about him as much as he
worried about Tom. It made Harry feel warm and appreciated in ways he definitely wasn’t
used to. “And I learned my lesson, don’t worry.”

“I always do,” Tom whispered and gave Harry a wink.

They had a quick little snog goodbye before Harry took the antidote for the aging potion and
he suddenly found himself in his eleven-year-old body again. “Man, every time I’m my real
age changing back becomes harder and harder.” Harry scowled up at Tom “And don’t say
anything about me quitting Hogwarts. It’s not happening for a few years at least.”

Tom held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “I wasn’t saying anything.”

“But you were thinking it,” Harry grumbled while he pulled on his small shoes. Ugh, he was
really starting to hate his small body.

“Always,” Tom said, his smile surprisingly sappy.

Harry rolled his eyes and mounted his broomstick. “See you next week!” And with that he
flew back to the castle.

That afternoon Harry spent a few hours with his friends in the Club House, playing some
exploding snap and discussing the Fantasy Quidditch League in such detail that several of his
friends who weren’t interested in Quidditch threw pillows at him in protest.

“What kind of magic would you like to learn if you could learn anything?” Susan asked in a
clear attempt to draw the attention away from Quidditch.
“Construction,” Ernie said at once, as though this was something he’d already spent some
time considering. “That way you can magically build your own home as long as you have
some land.”

Harry filed that away in the back of his mind. Tom already had a perfectly nice home Harry
hoped one day to share with him, but it might be a useful thing to know, anyway, in case they
ever wanted to build a greenhouse or a barn or something.

“I’d love to learn enchanting,” Theo said with a wistful smile. “Just for fun, so I can build my
own broom.”

“Ever since I saw McGonagall change into a cat I’ve wanted to learn to do that,” Justin
admitted with a grin. “Imagine being an animal for as long as you want to be. It’s just so
magical.”

Harry sat up a little from his lounging position on the couch beside Neville. “I know someone
who is an Animagus.” He then added, with a small but proud smile, “It’s an old friend of my
dad’s, who was also an Animagus. A stag.”

“He could teach you!” Justin said at once, eyes wide with hope and wonder. “And then you
could teach us."

Neville looked a bit alarmed at the prospect of having to learn to become an animal.

"Those who want to learn,” Susan said quickly, which calmed Neville right down again.

“That’s not a bad plan, actually,” Harry said with a thoughtful frown. Ever since he’d learned
about his dad and Sirius being Animagi, he had wanted to learn that for himself. But things
had been so hectic in his previous life. Sirius was on the run from the Ministry and Harry was
constantly under threat from Voldemort that Harry had never found the time to even ask
Sirius to teach him. And then Sirius had died, just like that. But now they had all the time in
the world.

“It’s very advanced magic, for a child,” Blaise pointed out with a curved brow.

“Oh yes,” Harry quickly agreed before he gave too much away. “I doubt I could learn the
actual transformation anytime soon. But I can start on learning the theory.”

“Please do,” Justin said, clutching his hands and giving Harry a pleading look. “Please,
please, please.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll get started on the theory and I will teach whoever wants to learn.”

“Awesome!” Hannah bounced in her seat. “I’d love to learn as well.” A few more voices
spoke up and just like that Harry had a new project on his hands, but one which he could take
his time with.

That evening, as he was sitting in his bed, Harry grabbed Sirius’ mirror and called his
godfather.
“Harry,” Sirius said, voice raspy and eyes bloodshot. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good,” Harry said, staring at Sirius in confusion. His godfather wasn’t really meeting his
eyes, barely even looked at the mirror. Ever since the holidays, Harry talked to his godfather
at least once a week, usually twice a week, and they had started building a good relationship,
Harry thought. “Sirius, what’s wrong?”

Sirius shook his head, as though he couldn’t quite speak.

“Are you hurt?” Harry asked, suddenly very worried. “Did you fall off your broomstick or
something?”

Sirius snorted in amusement, but that only lasted a few seconds before his whole face
crumbled in absolute misery. “Moony broke up with me and left.”
 Chapter 51
Chapter Summary

Harry has an awkward talk with Sirius, a less awkward talk with Tom, a chat with his
friends and finally talks with Sirius again. Oh, and he pisses off Snape, but that's to be
expected.

Chapter Notes

I loved reading all your speculations about why Remus would break up with Sirius. I
hope you're not too disappointed with my explanations this chapter, but I believe (and
have seen with my own eyes in my own life) that not all relationships are meant to last,
simple as that. Especially when one guy has been locked up in Azkaban for a decade and
the other guy has commitment issues.

Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading and for your patience
and support. Let me know what you think, because your comments keep me eager to
continue this story, even after two years of writing it.

Chapter 51

“What?” Harry asked after a few moments of awkward silence as Sirius pretended he wasn’t
crying and Harry pretended he didn’t see the tears on his godfather’s cheeks. “What
happened?”

Sirius sniffed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “Remus said we were changed
men, that we couldn’t ignore the last decade. He said I’ve changed, which yeah, of course
I’ve changed.” Sirius’ bloodshot eyes narrowed for a few seconds in obvious anger. “I’ve
been stuck in that hellhole for years. That’s going to change anyone.”

Harry swallowed and licked his lips, feeling rather mute with shock. Of all the things he
thought might happen in the future, this wasn’t it. He’d rarely felt as out of his depth as he
did at that moment, because Harry knew nothing about relationships.

For once, Harry was quite aware of his own limitations. He knew very well that the
‘relationships’ he’d had in his previous life were nothing more than teenage flings. That thing
with Cho had fizzled out before it ever got started, and while Harry had definitely had a crush
on Ginny once upon a time, their whole ‘relationship’ had lasted no more than two months, if
even that. During those two months Harry had spent a large chunk of his spare time in
detention with Snape and Ginny had been insanely busy with preparing for her OWLs, so in
truth they got to spend very little time together. The moments they did get to share they
mostly spent snogging, so they never really talked much, least of all about their relationship.

Then Harry had ended it for both their sakes since he had much bigger things he needed to
focus on, like fulfilling that stupid prophecy. And after the war Harry had been so bruised and
battered emotionally that he’d never gotten back with Ginny, letting her down gently when
she tried to kiss him a few days after the battle of Hogwarts.

And that was it. That was all the experience Harry had with relationships ending.

Right now he was in a relationship he sincerely hoped would never end, because Harry would
be lost without Tom. He knew that much. He also knew that his relationship with Tom was so
unique and unconventional that he couldn’t very well use it to understand what had happened
between Sirius and Remus.

“Er…” Harry finally said while Sirius kept wiping at his eyes while staring off into space.
“That’s…er…too bad.”

“I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be between us,” Sirius said, mostly to
himself as though he’d already forgotten Harry was even listening to the conversation. “But
Remus insisted that wasn’t possible, that I had to grow up, whatever the fuck that means.”

“I dunno,” Harry mumbled with a shrug, because he honestly didn’t have a clue. Yeah, Sirius
obviously had been wounded on more than one level from his stay in Azkaban, but it seemed
a bit unfair that Remus would hold that against him. Then again, Harry realized that he
honestly didn’t have a clue what the relationship between Sirius and Remus had actually been
like in the privacy of their own home. Perhaps Remus really did have good reasons to end it.

But Remus had always been a bit wishy washy with relationships, hadn’t he? From what
Harry remembered, Remus’ relationship with Tonks had also been difficult at times, mostly
because of Remus and his werewolf insecurities. Hell, Remus had been ready to leave his
pregnant wife behind to go off on some wild adventure. For reasons.

Harry shook his head, unsure if he should mention those things to Sirius or not. Would they
help his godfather in his grief or would they make things worse? Harry had truly no idea, so
he decided to keep his mouth shut until he could talk about this with someone else. Anyone
else, really.

“Remus was never as committed to our relationship,” Sirius continued in an almost rambling
tone. “Back when we were together the first time, before everything went to shit, Remus kept
giving me the cold shoulder at times for no reason at all. And then everyone started
suspecting everyone else of being the traitor and our relationship basically tanked because
Remus apparently believed I could be the traitor.” Sirius clenched his jaws, eyes narrowing
again. “He actually believed for a decade that I could have ever betrayed James and Lily. And
you.”

Harry blinked. So Sirius hadn’t forgotten he was there while he made a few good points
about Remus’ character and actions of the last decade. “Sounds like you were always more
invested in the relationship than Remus was,” Harry said, hoping that sounded helpful
enough because he was so completely unprepared for this conversation.

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed, his voice hitching. “That much is clear now. Remus always had
commitment issues.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, because that seemed like a safe thing to say in such a situation.

“Me too.” Sirius blinked a few times before looking at Harry again. “Sorry to drop this on
your lap, Harry.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said with a brave smile, while it was anything but fine. Harry didn’t know a
whole lot, but he did know it was probably not fair of a grown-up to expect their barely
eighteen-year-old godson to be emotionally mature enough to help them through a painful
breakup. But Sirius didn’t really have anyone else to talk to, did he? Harry was instantly
filled with a large burst of pity for his godfather. He truly had lost just about everything and
everyone, hadn’t he?

“Thanks for listening.” Sirius managed a small smile. “Bye, Harry.” And without another
word, Sirius closed his mirror, breaking the connection.

Harry stared at his own reflection for quite a while as his mind tried to make sense of what
the fuck had just happened. He had so many questions and he desperately needed to talk
about all of this, and there really was only one person Harry wanted to speak to at that
moment. He dropped Sirius’ mirror on his sheets and picked up another mirror and called
Tom.

“Soulmate!” Harry said, trying to sound as cheerful as he usually did when greeting his
boyfriend.

But Tom knew Harry quite well at that point. Well enough to know that something was
bothering Harry. “What’s wrong?” Tom asked at once, forehead creased with worry.

“I just talked to Sirius and he told me Remus broke up with him and I felt so out of my
fucking depth it’s ridiculous,” Harry rambled in one single breath and then had to take a
moment to inhale deeply.

“Ah.” Tom managed an amused little smile, much to Harry’s surprise. “So project godson is
back on the table, is it?”

Harry blinked as he looked at Tom in shock. “That hadn’t even occurred to me, to be honest.
But that would be really weird now, wouldn’t it? If Remus hooked up with Tonks after
breaking up with her cousin.”

“Weirder things have happened when it comes to romantic relationships,” Tom said with a
careless shrug, looking as though that topic didn’t interest him a great deal. “Why does this
have you so rattled, though?”
“Because I know nothing about relationships!” Harry said in an urgent tone, giving Tom an
intense look. “I called Sirius to ask about Animagus training and he springs his breakup on
me. I had no clue what to do.”

Tom, that utter wanker, didn’t seem very sympathetic to Harry’s plight if his wide grin was
any indication.

“It was very awkward,” Harry insisted, trying to get Tom to understand. “I had no clue what
to say.”

“I’m not exactly an expert on relationships either,” Tom said, sounding as though this didn’t
bother him in the slightest. “Our relationship is the most serious one I’ve ever had.”

For some reason, this lifted Harry’s mood significantly. “Yeah?” Harry couldn’t hold back a
rather sappy smile. “Mine, too.” And then something dawned on him, a thought that came out
of nowhere but that completely took his breath away. “You cannot break up with me!”

Tom looked at Harry as though he’d just completely lost the plot. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“No, I mean ever. You cannot break up with me ever, Tom,” Harry said, his head starting to
get a bit woozy because it was suddenly very hard to breathe. The thought of Tom ending
their relationship was terrifying and it made Harry’s chest constrict with an acute sense of
sharp pain.

“Harry,” Tom said from a million miles away. “Breathe. Come on. I’m right here. I’m not
going anywhere, I promise.”

“Really?” Harry had to swallow a few times before he could continue talking. “Because I
know we don’t really talk about this, but I need you to know that you’re it for me. I really
cannot imagine my life without you. It’s impossible.”

Glancing down, Tom smiled in a way that made it clear that Harry’s strange confession hit
home. Harry was sure he saw some dimples there for a second. “I cannot imagine my life as
it is right now without you either, my dear. There is no one in this entire world that knows me
like you do.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed at once, the panic in his mind slowly receding. “We’re soulmates.
We literally share a soul.”

“That we do.” Tom’s eyes were uncharacteristically soft as he gazed at Harry with a warm
smile. “Now stop worrying about things that are not going to happen. And your godfather’s
relationships are not your problem, either.”

“I know,” Harry sighed while he leaned back against his pillow. “He just really caught me by
surprise and it was all weird as hell.”

“Did you say something about Animagus training?” Tom asked in a very good attempt to
change the subject.
“Yeah.” Harry was more than happy to talk about something else. “Some of my friends talked
about learning to become an Animagus and I figured it might be fun to actually try.” Harry
paused for a moment as he gave Tom a searching look. “Are you an Animagus? I can’t recall
if we’ve ever talked about this before.”

“We haven’t, I’m sure,” Tom said with a tilt of his head as he gave Harry a long look. “I
attempted it in my last year at Hogwarts, but I couldn’t get it to work. In hindsight that’s
probably because I had already created a horcrux by then and you need a complete soul for
that kind of transformation.”

“You could try again,” Harry said at once, beyond happy with the idea of them learning some
amazing magic together.

“I suppose I might as well,” Tom said in a nonchalant tone, but Harry could see an eager glint
in his eyes. He knew Tom well enough by then to know that there was very little new magic
Tom would not want to learn, especially something as challenging and complicated as the
Animagus transformation.

Harry got an idea. “Do you remember all the steps? Because if you do I don’t have to bother
Sirius with this right now.”

Tom frowned for a few seconds as he obviously tried to remember what becoming an
Animagus entailed. “Most of them. But I have a few books on the subject in my collection.”

“Could I read some?” Harry asked at once, eager for another interesting project.

“Sure, but you should probably wait until the summer holidays to start on the actual process,”
Tom said, much to Harry’s disappointment.

“Why?”

“Because the first step is to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a whole month,” Tom
said with a bit of a daring grin. “And that might be more comfortable to do at home instead of
surrounded by dozens of students who are going to be wondering why you’re suddenly
talking with a lisp.”

Harry wondered if Tom was speaking of experience on that particular issue and he was about
to ask him when something else occurred to him. “But how will we snog when I have a leaf
in my mouth?”

Rolling his eyes, Tom snorted with laughter. “Very carefully.”

“You don’t have to give me that look,” Harry muttered, glaring at the mirror. “We’ve got
some serious snogging to catch up on during the summer. Don’t pretend that’s not the case.”

Tom’s gaze became downright hot as he smiled in a rather devious way. “Snogging, and so
much more. One little mandrake leaf won’t be able to stop us, my dear.”

“Good,” Harry said and then swallowed as his mind started conjuring up all sorts of delicious
visions of what kind of things exactly Tom was hinting at. Fuck, the summer couldn’t come
soon enough.

Chuckling, Tom gave Harry a fond look. “I’ll send you something to read on the Animagus
ritual. When I first tried it I was determined to create a better, shorter version of that
particular ritual but I lost interest when I couldn’t manage the transformation. It might be an
interesting project for you to continue.”

“Huh.” Harry blinked while he gave that some consideration. He had no idea what the full
procedure was to become an Animagus, but if it had interested Tom enough at some point it
must be worth pursuing. “Yeah, all right, I’ll give it a look.”

“Good night, my dear,” Tom said with a short nod goodbye.

“Night!” Harry called before closing his mirror and burrowing under the covers. He felt so
much better now. There was still plenty of sympathy for his godfather and his broken heart,
but mostly Harry felt extraordinarily happy his own relationship seemed to be as strong as
ever. This was only confirmed a short time later, after Harry fell asleep and found his soul
entwined with Tom’s in a warm embrace.

The next day was Sunday and for the first time in weeks it was sunny outside instead of
overcast while it drizzled all day every day.

“As much as I like spending time in the Club House,” Theo said as he stared out of the
windows of the Great Hall as they finished their breakfast. “I really want to go outside right
now.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, also feeling a subtle urge to go and be active instead of sit on his
behind all day reading. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Justin came up with a perfect solution as he entered the Great Hall with a black and white
football under his arm while giving everyone an expectant look.

They met up outside on the grass near the lake and quickly divided everyone up in two teams
of five people each. Harry conjured up some simple football goals while Justin explained
what the purpose of the game was. The rules were simple enough. Get the ball in the
opponent’s goal using only your feet without pushing or shoving any of the other players. To
make things a bit more interesting, Harry subtly placed a charm on the ball so it would move
on its own in the completely opposite direction every now and then, leading to lots of
frustration and hilarity once they started playing.

Ernie manned the goal for Harry’s team, while Neville was the goalie for their opponents.
Both teams scored regularly, but that hardly mattered in the end. They spend an hour and a
half running around in the sunshine while burning off some excess energy, all the while
having fun with their friends.

And at that moment, Harry didn’t mind being eleven again, at least for a while.

They trooped to the Club House after they were all sweaty and tired and Susan called her
house-elf to serve them all tea and snacks.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Harry said after he finished his first cup of tea and two
slices of excellent chocolate cake. “About the Animagus training.”

“Oh?” Justin asked at once. He had been by far the most enthusiastic about the possibility of
turning into an animal out of all of Harry’s friends. “What’s the bad news? No, wait, tell us
the good news first. Or maybe not.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry sat back in the couch and grinned at his friends. “The good news is I
have found someone willing to send me some books on the subject to help us get going. The
bad news is that the first step of the Animagus transformation is to keep a mandrake leaf in
your mouth for a whole month.”

“Whut?” Justin looked utterly flummoxed as he stared at Harry.

“What a random thing to do,” Blaise mused with a frown. “A mandrake leaf…what about
that has anything to do with becoming an animal?”

“I have no clue,” Harry said honestly. “From what I understand the ritual isn’t really all that
difficult, just really time-consuming.”

“How would you even eat?” Hannah asked as he glanced around their group of friends.

“Maybe if you put the leaf under your tongue,” Neville suggested, but he didn’t sound very
sure of that solution, either. “Mandrake leaves are pretty tough, but I don’t know if they
would survive a month squashed under someone’s tongue.”

Harry made a mental note to call Sirius later that week, after the man had some time to pull
himself together, and check to see if he had any tips for the mandrake leaf. Blaise had a point,
though. It did seem rather random. Who even came up with those kinds of rituals in the first
place? Who in the history of the wizarding world thought that putting a leaf in your mouth
just had to be the first step in becoming an animal? Harry shook his head and focussed back
on his friends, who were all chatting about the Animagus ritual.

“What’s the next step?” Theo asked as he stared at Harry with a frown.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve got no clue. Hopefully I’ll get those books soon, then I’ll let you
know.”

That seemed to appease his friends enough that they changed the subject and before long
Harry found himself in a debate with Ernie about the upcoming Fantasy Quidditch meeting
that evening.

Harry received two books on the Animagus ritual the very next morning and he spent that
week as he had the previous ones, except that he added reading those books to his roster. He
also continued his studies on ancient runes as much as his schedule allowed while keeping up
with his regular homework. He consistently did well in his classes, so his teachers seemed
happy enough to leave him alone, which gave Harry plenty of opportunities to read his own
books during class.
As usual, he talked to Tom every evening in bed, but Tom still caught him by surprise that
Thursday evening.

“I’m going to free Dolohov, Rookwood and Mulciber from Azkaban tomorrow evening,”
Tom said without ceremony, as though planning a prison break was the most natural thing in
the world.

“Wait, what?” Harry sat up at once. He knew Tom was planning to break out a few of his
Death Eaters, of course, but he hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

“I’ve got everything in place. I’ve got the muggles ready, I’ve got plenty of Polyjuice potion
and I’ve already talked to the dementors. They’re eager to collect three souls as payment for
their cooperation,” Tom said as though he was summing up a grocery list or something
equally boring.

Harry blinked, briefly wondering how one even talked to dementors in the first place. Then
he quickly decided he probably didn’t want to know. “Yeah, okay, that’s great. But does it
have to be so soon?”

Tom got a knowing look on his face while giving Harry a fond little smile. “Stop worrying. I
want to do it Friday night because they’ll have the weekend shift guarding the prison then,
and they’re terribly understaffed at the moment.”

Swallowing, Harry nodded, trying desperately to be mature about this. Tom was a
ridiculously powerful wizard who had broken into Azkaban before, more than once, in their
previous lives. Tom knew what he was doing. And yet Harry couldn’t help the cold lump of
fear that settled in his stomach at the thought of Tom going on this mission alone. “Just
please do me a favour and call me the moment you’re back,” Harry finally whispered, giving
Tom a miserable look while trying very hard to appear supportive.

“I will be careful,” Tom said in a firm voice, though his gaze was soft. “And I’ll call you the
second I’m back, I promise.”

Heaving a deep, slightly shuddering sigh, Harry could only nod in response. While he did
want to support his soulmate in his endeavours, he also knew he would be worried sick until
the whole bloody thing was over and done with. Because he really couldn’t lose Tom. Over
the past week Harry had imagined a time or two what his life would look like if Tom broke
up with him, or Merlin forbid, if Tom ended up locked up in Azkaban. And his life would be
dull and empty without Tom to share it with, Harry knew that much.

No matter what the future would bring, Harry knew it had to have Tom in it, or it would be a
miserable future indeed.

“Barty will be there to watch my back,” Tom said in a soothing voice, and that did help to
make Harry feel a tiny bit better.

“I’m glad, but now I have to worry about him, too,” Harry said with a quiet groan, which
caused Tom to laugh straight in his face.
That Friday morning Harry made a mistake during Potions, probably for the first time since
doing first year all over again. It was a really dumb mistake, too, which had both Neville and
Millicent stare at Harry in complete disbelief while their cauldron spat large violet and pink
bubbles into the air.

Both Draco and Pansy were sniggering like they hadn’t seen something this funny in ages.

“You incompetent fool,” Snape snarled as he stood looming over Harry. “The frog brains go
in after the elderberries.”

“I know,” Harry mumbled, head bowed in shame. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Evidently.” Snape narrowed his eyes and seemed to debate something for a moment.
“Longbottom, ten points from Gryffindor for distracting your partner.” And with that, Snape
swept away to yell at someone else for their utter incompetence.

Neville quietly puffed up in outrage at the unfairness of Snape’s sense of discipline and even
looked like he might actually say something about it. A few tables over, Hermione looked
like she was about to do the same thing, her face scrunched up with righteous anger as well.

Harry quickly placed his hand on Neville’s arm and shook his head. “I know it’s not fair, but
arguing will only make it worse,” Harry said in a whisper before vanishing the mess in their
cauldron with a flick of his wand. “There’s still time to finish a new potion this class.”

Neville’s shoulders slumped while he nodded in understanding. Harry let Neville and
Millicent take the lead on the potion while he stuck with chopping and slicing and just before
the bell rang they had a passable wart remover. Snape still sneered at Harry as though Harry
had personally pissed in his tea that morning, but Harry quickly placed the vial of potion on
his desk and hurried out of the classroom.

The rest of the day Harry remained distracted. He couldn’t help it. Thankfully they’d planned
a practical lesson for the Culture Club that evening, which meant that Harry didn’t have to
actively teach a bunch of easily bored children. Instead they made Ostara and Easter
decorations while sharing experiences about that particular holiday, which was coming up in
two weeks. Kreacher had provided quite a few bowls with several sizes of chocolate eggs, so
the whole lesson was a huge success as far as the students were concerned.

When Harry crawled into bed later that night, he picked up Sirius’ mirror. He might as well
call his godfather to see how he was doing, which would also provide a bit of a distraction for
Harry until he got the call from Tom to let him know he and Barty were still in one piece.

“Hey,” Harry said once his godfather’s face appeared in the mirror. “How are you?”

Sirius looked much better, at the very least. His eyes were clear and he didn’t appear to have
cried recently. “Hey, Harry. I’m all right, all things considered.”

“Glad to hear that,” Harry said with genuine relief. He had worried about Sirius as well that
week, but he also knew there wasn’t a whole lot he could do for his godfather, aside from
offering whatever support he could all the way from Hogwarts. “So…er…are things still the
same?”

“We’re still broken up,” Sirius said with a quiet snort, clearly amused by Harry’s horrible
attempt at tact. Then he sighed and gave a quick shrug. “I’ve done a lot of thinking this week
and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably better this way.” Sirius briefly looked away
before staring at Harry with clear intent. “I mean, it still bloody well hurts, but it’s clear now
that Remus was never as committed as I’ve always been. Then and now.”

“It still sucks, but yeah, maybe it’s good that you know that now,” Harry said, carefully
choosing his words because the last thing he wanted to do was upset his godfather. “So that
you can move on.”

“Find someone that does appreciate me for me, yeah,” Sirius agreed with a firm nod.
“Andromeda’s been telling me that all week.”

“That does sound like a good idea.” Harry cleared his throat, unsure how to even change the
subject. He decided to just go for it. “So anyway, why I’m calling…I’ve decided to become
an Animagus at some point.”

“Really?” Sirius visibly perked up and gave Harry a bright look full of anticipation.

“Yeah, I’ve been reading a couple of books about it, but holy fuck, that ritual is ridiculously
time-consuming.” Harry gave Sirius a bit of a hopeless look. “How did you even manage it in
one go?”

Sirius barked a laugh while his eyes shone with humour. “We didn’t manage in one go. Both
James and myself messed up once and needed to start all over again. And Wormtail needed
three tries, because he missed a spell the second time as well.”

That made Harry feel so much better for some reason. He had been dreading the daily spell
casting at set times because he knew he was bound to mess it up at some point. “How did you
do anything for a month with a mandrake leaf in your mouth?”

“We rolled it up and stuck it under our tongues,” Sirius explained, which made so much sense
to Harry that he wondered why he hadn’t thought about that. “It’s not so bad that way.
Though your father always theorized that keeping the leaf in your mouth for an entire month
probably wasn’t necessary, but that the inventor of the ritual had added it to prank those who
were foolish enough to commit to the whole bloody thing.”

Harry laughed at that, so ridiculously pleased to hear something like that about his father.
“That does sound plausible. It’s a good way to weed out those who are not committed enough
to undertake the whole ritual.”

“Exactly,” Sirius agreed with a grin. Harry asked him a million more questions about the
ritual, and Sirius seemed eager to share his experiences and even promised to help Harry over
the summer if he needed assistance.
For an hour Harry was distracted, thanks to his godfather, but when he crawled under his
blankets and turned off the light, Harry found that he couldn’t sleep, his mind occupied
entirely by worries for Tom and Barty.

Harry wasn’t sure how long it had been or what time it even was when his mirror lit up
beside his head. Sitting up at once, Harry flipped the mirror open and gasped when he saw
Tom’s face.

Tom looked like a tiger had clawed his face and on his left cheek were four angry red welts
that ran from above his eye all the way down to his jaw.
 Chapter 52
Chapter Summary

Harry gets a pleasant surprise in the mail, develops a new hobby, puts Draco in his place
again, almost accidentally makes pornography, and encounters an old enemy in the
classroom.

Chapter Notes

This story has not been forgotten, don't worry. I needed a bit of a break and once I got
back to writing my mind wanted to write a few shorter stories first before focusing on
the epic WIPs again. But here we are with a new chapter, and I've also been able to plan
a few other chapters out for the future, so hopefully I'll be able to give you a few updates
at least in the coming weeks.

Thanks so much for your patience and your support. Please let me know what you think.
Your amazing comments keep me motivated to see this story through to the very end.

Chapter 52

“What happened?” Harry demanded as he stared at Tom’s wounded face with wide eyes.

Tom raised a tentative hand up to his face and carefully touched the cuts, as though he’d
already forgotten they were there at all. “I promised you I’d call you the second I got back, so
I haven’t healed any injuries yet.”

“It looks like you were clawed by a lion or something,” Harry mused as he grimaced in
sympathy when Tom briefly squeezed his eyes shut in obvious discomfort.

“Nothing that exciting, my dear. Simply Bellatrix who wasn’t pleased to learn she wouldn’t
be getting out of Azkaban anytime soon.” Tom shrugged as though none of this concerned
him in the least, but Harry knew better. “When I went to obliviate her, after we got the others
out, she managed to reach through the bars and make her anger clear.”

“Can it be healed?” Harry was a bit worried Tom might have some gruesome scars for the
rest of his life thanks to that insane witch. It wouldn’t matter to Harry in the slightest, what
Tom ended up looking like, but it might raise some uncomfortable questions at some point as
Tom tried to worm his way into high wizarding society.
“Nothing a healing spell and some dittany can’t fix.” Tom gave Harry a fond little smile as he
leaned back in his seat, looking exhausted but satisfied. “Aside from this little scrap,
everything went well. Dolohov, Rookwood and Mulciber are recovering at Dorus’ Mansion
and they all agreed to my conditions of their release.”

Harry snorted. ‘Conditions of their release.’ That was a funny way of saying jailbreak, wasn’t
it? “I’m glad to hear everyone is safe. Not going to lie, I’ve been very worried today.”

“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary.” Tom leaned his head back and briefly closed
his eyes. “I’m sorry to notify you on such short notice, but I won’t make it to our duelling
lesson tomorrow.” Tom looked off to the side for a moment. “Correction, today in about five
hours.”

Was it that late already? Harry had been so full of anxiety that he hadn’t been able to keep
track of time at all. “Yeah, alright. I need some sleep as well. How about we meet Sunday
morning instead?”

“That works for me. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick shower, heal my face
and then get some much needed sleep.” Tom’s eyes were drooping shut, so Harry could well
imagine how tired he was.

Harry was tired as well, but not enough that he couldn’t imagine Tom in the shower. Naked
and wet Tom. Harry’s favourite kind of Tom.

“Do I even want to know what you’re thinking right now?” Tom asked, pulling Harry out of
his impromptu fantasy.

Harry’s cheeks flushed and he rubbed a hand across his face to rid himself of whatever
obsession had just come over him. “Best not to ask. Goodnight, soulmate. See you on
Sunday.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Flipping the mirror shut, Harry fell back against his pillow. God, now he was having lustful
feelings about his boyfriend even when he was in his eleven-year-old body and not yet a
victim of raging hormones. Harry really hoped that Tom would let him take an aging potion
during their next meeting because Harry was in some serious need of a good snogging.

Theo and Blaise let Harry sleep in a bit the next morning, which Harry appreciated very
much. He stumbled out of bed just after nine, when everyone else had already left for
breakfast. Harry quickly made himself presentable and hurried up to the Great Hall, eager for
some breakfast.

Right as Harry sat down between Theo and Blaise, who were both already finished with their
food, a large eagle owl delivered a package to Harry. There was an envelope attached to it,
with Harry’s name on it in Barty’s familiar handwriting. Still, Harry didn’t take any chances
and cast a few detection charms before opening the envelope.

Harry,
This way you can take some photographic evidence to send in with your paper, so no one can
question your discovery. Consider it a gift for completing your first academic paper.
Hopefully many more will follow.

Cheers!

Barty

Intrigued, Harry ripped open the package to find a brand-new magical camera inside, with
some spare film and an instruction booklet.

Draco, who sat across from Harry, lowered his teacup and looked like he wanted to say
something. Harry shot him a dark look as he closed the box again, which shut Draco up. For
now.

Parkinson, unfortunately, missed Harry’s clear warning. “It’s astounding how spoiled some
children are, isn’t it, Draco? But I suppose someone as famous as the Boy Who Lived can ask
for anything from anyone and get away with it.”

Theo choked on his pumpkin juice while Blaise pursed his lips in a way that made it clear he
was very close to dissolving into absolute hysterics. Harry, meanwhile, stared at Parkinson in
utter disbelief. The fucking irony of Parkinson complaining to Draco that Harry was too
spoiled was all sorts of levels of absurd and Harry couldn’t even be mad about it.

“Weren’t you going to go off to do your research this morning?” Theo asked after everyone
had calmed down a bit again.

“I think I’ll skip today and do it tomorrow morning,” Harry said, glad for the convenient
excuse to meet up with Tom the next day. “I’ve got this brand-new camera and figured I can
take some time to try it out. Take some pictures of everybody.”

As it turned out, Harry’s many friends all thought that was a good idea and they spent the
morning roaming around the castle and the grounds while Harry figured out how to work the
camera. He took lots of pictures of his friends. Some individual portraits in nice locations.
Neville in between a bunch of plants in Greenhouse two. Daphne lounging against a tree near
the lake. Ernie with his arm wrapped around a suit of armour. Theo in the library, tucked in
comfortable chair. He also took plenty of group shots. And since the camera had a delay
function, Harry could join those group shots as well, which he eagerly did.

In his past life, he’d had so few pictures. Hagrid had given him a precious album of pictures
of his parents, and Harry had received a few random pictures other students like Colin
Creevey had made of him and his friends, but that was it. Harry remembered how
disappointed he was after Sirius died that he didn’t have any pictures of Sirius as he’d been
when Harry knew him. He had some pictures of Sirius as a young adult with James and Lily,
but none of Sirius as a man in his thirties. And that had hurt. After the final battle, when
Harry lost even more people he cared about, he’d ran into the same problem. He had no
pictures of Remus or Tonks to remember them by. He had one picture with the twins, but that
was back when Harry was a second year and the twins were still very young teens as well.
Yeah, now that Harry had the opportunity, he was going to make sure he took more than
enough pictures of all the people he cared about.

And Harry also made sure to have Kreacher bake a large batch of lardy cakes, Barty’s
favourites. Harry sent them off with a short letter thanking Barty profusely for his very
thoughtful and useful gift.

That evening Harry spent an hour in Hogwarts’ heart, taking pictures of the amazing room
and its many runic arrays. Spending time with Hogwarts’ sentient wards always filled Harry
with a sense of peace and tranquillity. Afterwards, he went up to the owlery and sent Hedwig
off with a small money pouch and three full rolls of film he’d taken so far. There was a
photography shop in Occasion Alley that developed film for you, so you didn’t have to do it
yourself. Harry made himself a promise that he would learn to develop film on his own, but
for now he was far too eager to get his hands on some pictures so he’d let the professionals
handle it.

The next morning there was a front page article in the Daily Prophet about the botched
escape attempt at Azkaban.

Theo’s face was pale as he read over Harry’s shoulder that three convicted Death Eaters were
kissed by dementors while trying to escape the prison. Even Draco, who always had
something to say about everything that happened around him kept his mouth shut for a
change.

“They must have known no one ever escapes from Azkaban,” Theo mumbled as he shook his
head. “Why even risk it?”

“I suppose after years and years of being tortured by dementors even risks with very low
chances of succeeding are worth taking,” Blaise said in a steady tone, sounding surprisingly
unfazed. But Harry could see some glint of fear shining in his dark eyes. Hardly anyone
wouldn’t feel scared of the idea of having their soul sucked out. Harry certainly still despised
dementors, and his boggart probably still was a dementor. Or Tom lying dead in front of him,
that might also be a possibility these days.

There was cheering at the Gryffindor table where several of the older students loudly
proclaimed that those filthy Death Eaters got exactly what they deserved. Once upon a time,
Harry would have completely agreed with them, but these days his views weren’t quite so
black and white anymore, especially because his best friend was a Death Eater and his
boyfriend a Dark Lord in recovery.

“Have they no shame,” Draco muttered while glaring at the Gryffindor table.

“No,” Harry said, folding up his newspaper. “They don’t have any shame, Draco. To them
these men were just faceless monsters that have finally been removed from this world once
and for all.” Harry looked Draco in the eye and silently dared him to argue those points.
Harry knew from bitter experience that Draco and plenty of other Slytherins had, once upon a
different life, happily cheered on Harry’s demise on more than one occasion. And Harry was
hardly a faceless enemy to them. He’d been a kid they went to school with for years and
years and they still would have danced on his grave if given the chance.
Of course, Draco was only eleven and lacked any capacity for subtlety and common sense.
“Well, what can one expect from a bunch of blood traitors and mudbloods.” The moment he
said that last word, his eyes widened and he looked at Harry in shock, realizing he’d just
made a rather grave mistake. “Don’t you dare, Harry!”

“Don’t I dare what, Draco?” Harry smiled pleasantly while slipping his right hand under the
table and letting his wand fall against his palm. He aimed it at Draco and cast a rather benign
curse that would make Draco speak in rhyme for about a week. He added a modifier to
ensure no one would be able to remove it until it had run its course.

“Don’t you dare cast a spell or I’ll send you straight to hell,” Draco said and then frowned, as
if unsure if that was what he’d wanted to say in the first place. “You’ve already cursed me,
didn’t you? Well, Harry, I’ll just have to curse you, too.” And while several students around
Draco started giggling, catching on to what sort of curse Harry had cast, Draco stood up and
pulled his wand out of his pocket, aiming it at Harry. But before Draco could retaliate, his
wand flew from his hand and straight into Snape’s as their Head of House came storming
towards them.

“Draco, that will be a detention with Mr Filch this evening for trying to curse a fellow student
in the Great Hall,” Snape snarled as he came to a stop behind Harry.

“But, Professor, that’s just unfair,” Draco said while giving Snape a pleading look. “Harry
cursed me, much to my despair.”

Blaise snorted and quickly pressed his fist against his mouth while Theo looked down,
shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.

“Potter,” Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What did you do?”

“Nothing at all,” Harry said pleasantly, gesturing at Draco. “He’s got no donkey ears that I
can see.”

“It’s not my ears you cursed this time,” Draco yelled, placing his hands on the table and
leaning closer to Harry. “You’ve cursed me to speak in rhyme!”

Half the Slytherin table sniggered and chuckled while pretending to mind their own business.

“I think Draco’s pulling a prank, Sir,” Harry said while giving Snape his best innocent look.
“He’s pretending to be cursed just to get me in trouble.”

“How dare you lie like that,” Draco said, his face scrunching up in a grimace, as though he
was horrified by what came out of his mouth. “You enormous brat.”

“I think a curse would have given Draco a better rhyming vocabulary,” Harry said, hoping
Snape would buy his explanation.

“Oh shut up, Potter, you rotter.” Draco sat down at the table and crossed his arms, mouth
pulling down in a pout.
“I do believe I’ve seen enough,” Snape said while giving Harry a most unimpressed look.
“You’ll be serving a detention with me tomorrow night, Potter, for criticizing a fellow student
unfairly.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said dutifully, knowing that resistance was futile. He was just glad
Snape apparently wanted to enjoy his weekend as well and refused to see students for a
detention on a Sunday night or Harry would have missed his Fantasy Quidditch meeting.

“Draco, you’d best see Madam Pomfrey. Perhaps she can be of some assistance.” After Snape
handed Draco back his wand he left them to the rest of their breakfast. Draco jumped up at
once and left the Great Hall in a huff.

“That was rather inspired,” Blaise said while giving Harry a pleased little smile. “Punish him
for saying a forbidden word by messing with his ability to speak.”

“I do try,” Harry said and offered his friends a short bow before turning back to his breakfast.
He hadn’t eaten a thing yet and he’d be meeting Tom soon. Their duelling lessons always
required lots of effort so Harry wanted to make sure he had a solid base of energy at his
disposal.

After breakfast, Harry briefly stopped in the dungeons to collect his camera since he wanted
to take it with him to the Chamber of Secrets. Tom was the person Harry wanted a ton of
photos of.

“Soulmate!” Harry raised his camera as he strolled into the chamber where Tom was already
waiting. “We’re taking some pictures today. I don’t have any of you.”

“You need wanking material?” Tom said with a crooked grin.

“Oh my god, no!” Harry glared at Tom, narrowing his eyes even more when Tom couldn’t
hold back a chuckle. “I’d like to have some pictures of the people I care about, alright? I
barely had any in my previous life and I’m definitely rectifying it this time.”

“Very well.” Tom held out a vial of aging potion. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind having a few
pictures of you to put on my nightstand.” Tom gave Harry an expectant look as though he
was waiting for Harry to comment on Tom’s need for certain types of material featuring
Harry.

Wisely, Harry kept his mouth shut and instead put his camera down on the small table
carefully so he could undress.

“Where did you even get a new camera?” Tom asked as Harry turned his naked back on him
and downed the potion.

“Barty gave it to me, to take pictures of the Room of Requirement. To go with my paper.”
Harry gritted his teeth for a second as his body shot up about a foot.

“How is that coming along?” Tom asked, handing Harry a shirt and some underwear when
Harry was done growing.
“Just about done with my complete first draft. I’m sending it off to the Flamels once I get the
pictures back.” Harry stepped into a pair of black trousers and shoved his feet into a pair of
shoes and then gave Tom a bright smile. “I want some pictures of you around the Chamber,
but also some of us together. Also, I have missed you.” And with that, Harry all but flung
himself against Tom and pressed his lips to Tom’s mouth in an eager kiss.

Tom parted his lips and deepened their kiss while Harry wound his arms around Tom’s neck.
It still amazed him that he was so eager to snog who was once Voldemort these days, but
there was no denying that Harry deeply, truly loved Tom Riddle. Just being in Tom’s arms,
lips locked in a fierce, hungry kiss, made all of the world’s problems slip away. Harry sagged
against Tom, who had his arms around Harry’s waist and kept him upright while slowly
bringing an end to their kiss.

“Hmm.” Harry stared up at Tom with hooded eyes. “I needed that. Also, I’m glad to see
you’ve got your pretty face back.”

Tom rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Glad to see you have your
priorities straight, my dear.”

“Most people at the Slytherin table were quite upset to read about what happened,” Harry
said softly, wanting to prove to Tom that he did indeed knew what things actually mattered.
“Of course, then Draco had to stick his foot in his mouth so I cursed him to speak in rhyme.
And now I’ve got a detention with Snape tomorrow.”

“Subtle, you are not.” Tom pressed a slow, lingering kiss against Harry’s lips. “But then
again, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t more impulsive than the average niffler in a bank.”

“I just can’t help it,” Harry said, meaning every word of it. He tried, time and again, to curb
his tendencies towards acting without thinking, but so far he’d yet to master that particular
craft. “So what’s going to happen to your minions?”

“They’ll have a week to recover at Dorus’. They’ve already seen a Healer who’s put them on
an ample potions regime. Next week they’re going to Lebanon, to have their faces
permanently transfigured. After that we’ll set up new identities for them.”

“And they were fine with you no longer acting like Voldemort?” Harry asked, since he
couldn’t help but worry that some of Tom’s old followers might try to make life difficult for
them.

Tom got a contemplative look on his face, though his eyes were shadowed as he spoke. “I
honestly believe they’re mostly grateful to be out of the hellhole and to get a second chance
at living a decent life. Others, those who I left behind, weren’t nearly so pleased once they
realized I was no longer the Dark Lord they once knew.”

“Don’t you dare feel bad about that, Tom,” Harry said with a voice full of conviction. “They
ultimately made their own choices that led them to Azkaban.”

“Perhaps,” Tom replied in a quiet voice. “But you cannot deny that I share a large part of the
blame for why they made the choices they did.”
“That was soulless you,” Harry pointed out, tightening his arms around Tom for a moment to
help bring his point across. “That hasn’t been you ever since we were given a second chance.
Don’t let your actions from our previous life keep you full of guilt in this one.”

“That’s easier said than done, especially seeing the state of the witches and wizards I once
considered my closest followers,” Tom whispered and then visibly shook himself. “But you
are right that I shouldn’t let that spoil my time with you, my dear. Did you want to take some
pictures?”

“Yes!” Harry pressed one last kiss to Tom’s lips and then showed off his camera, explaining
how it worked. For the next hour, he had Tom pose around the Chamber of Secrets. Tom
insisted that Harry pose for plenty of pictures as well, which Harry did once he realized that
of course Tom would also want to have a few pictures of his boyfriend, just like Harry did.
After that Harry put the delay function to good use and they took several pictures of the both
of them together. A couple around the Chamber of Secrets, but also a couple where Tom sat
in one of the leather chairs with Harry lounging in his lap.

“I want one of us kissing,” Harry murmured as he leaned up to press his lips against Tom’s.

“You sure you’re not looking for wank material?” Tom whispered right before Harry
deepened the kiss. Being in his adult body always made Harry go wild with lust whenever he
got the chance to snog Tom. Harry wound his hand in Tom’s hair and tried to pull him closer,
but Tom pulled back a little so he could speak. “Keep this up, my dear, and we’ll be
producing our own pornography before the night is over because I am very close to losing
control.”

A part of Harry really wanted to push Tom just to see what would happen. Well, lots of sexy
things, that was a given. But what kind of sexy things exactly would take place was a
mystery Harry wouldn’t mind solving right then and there.

“The Easter holidays are coming up in a few weeks,” Tom said, pulling back a little though
he kept his arms firmly wrapped around Harry. “I think that would be a much better
opportunity to take our relationship to the next level than a hasty rendezvous in a damp
basement before you’re expected to socialize with your young friends again.

“Well, when you put it like that.” Harry couldn’t hold back a disappointed sigh, but he knew
Tom had a good point. “We’ll be staying at Dorus’ again, right?”

“Yes, in adjacent rooms, so we’ll have lots of opportunity to spend some quality time
together.” Tom pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips, eyes shining with obvious desire. “The whole
night, even, if that is what you want.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, fire erupting in his loins, cock rock hard in his trousers. “I really just
want to lock you in my bedroom for that entire week, to be honest.”

Tom chuckled and then purposefully shifted Harry in his lap so Harry could feel exactly how
much Tom liked that idea. Harry wasn’t the only one with an overly eager dick apparently.
“That sounds like a perfect idea to me. Let’s stick to that plan and for now we can actually do
what we came here to do. Let’s duel.”
“Wait,” Harry said as he reluctantly got up from Tom’s lap. “You’re letting me actually cast
spells today?” So far Harry had been doing everything but casting magic at Tom. He’d
breathed and aimed and ducked and rolled, but he’d yet to actually duel Tom.

“Yes, my dear.” Tom pushed himself up while giving Harry a grin bordering on a smirk.
“Let’s see how quickly I can disarm you.”

Which was pretty darn quick, much to Harry’s chagrin. Tom handed Harry his wand back and
said, “Again.”

And that is how Harry spent the rest of the morning, getting his arse handed to him by Tom in
the most unpleasant way possible. Still, he learned a lot as Tom kept pointing out what Harry
did wrong time and again, and that’s what mattered in the end.

After saying a drawn-out goodbye with lots of snogging, Harry returned to his tiny body and
trooped back to the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. Harry had hoped that perhaps he’d get
used to shifting between his adult body and his young self, but every time he spent time as an
adult he hated becoming a child again a bit more. Yeah, the way things were looking now,
Harry was absolutely sure he wasn’t staying at Hogwarts beyond his third year. Perhaps not
even beyond his second. Being a kid again was fun from time to time and Harry truly
appreciated the chance to do that part of his life over again, but it did not compare to being
his adult self. To have his body match his mind and allowing him to do all the things that
adults usually wanted to do.

After lunch, Harry made a quick trip to the Owlery, to send off the newly filled film rolls to
be developed. He also added extra Galleons and an order for a whole bunch more film rolls
since he’d already run out.

He spent the afternoon with his friends. They took a walk around the castle since the weather
was dry and sunny, though the wind was still quit chilly in early March. Afterwards they
spent some time relaxing in the Club House, chatting about everything from the upcoming
Fantasy Quidditch meeting to everyone’s favourite foods at Hogwarts. Harry’s was treacle
tart, but he was the only one who chose that one.

That evening’s Fantasy Quidditch meeting was a loud affair, with many students (Harry
included) raising their voices when others criticized their choices of players. Still, it was all
done in good fun and Harry went to bed with a smile on his face, soon finding himself in the
warm, comforting embrace of Tom’s soul.

Monday morning brought with it a heavy envelope full of pictures delivered by a beautiful
barn owl. They were the pictures Harry had taken on Saturday and since he’d ordered double
prints of every picture he could keep one of each for himself and share the others with his
friends. The extra pictures of the sentient wards would go with his paper. Harry had already
prepared a letter for the Flamels with a copy of his paper’s first draft, and since their first
period was History, Harry took his time adding the relevant pictures and then securing the
whole thing in a thick envelope. He strolled up to the owlery again, and Hedwig, who’d only
just returned from her flight the previous day, was eager enough to deliver something else.
“This goes to the Flamels, girl,” Harry whispered, stroking Hedwig across the soft feathers of
her breast. He still marvelled that he got her back. Losing her had been a blow that hadn’t
really hit him until some time later, during an evening in that fucking tent when Harry was
hiding from the whole entire world. He’d finally realized he’d lost his first real friend, and
even though she’d only been an owl, she had without a doubt been Harry’s most loyal friend
throughout the years she’d been by his side. “Thanks, and be careful.” Harry chuckled when
Hedwig gave him a haughty look as though she didn’t appreciate Harry doubting her abilities
to keep herself safe.

Harry arrived at History fifteen minutes late but Binns didn’t even notice, so Harry quietly
slipped into his seat and got out a Runes book to read.

During lunch, Harry heard some vague whispers that Quirrell had suffered an accident over
the weekend. Harry glanced at the head table and Quirrell wasn’t seated at it, but that didn’t
necessarily mean anything. The curse had been removed, so that wasn’t the culprit. Or
perhaps Quirrell was simply feeling under the weather and the students were blowing up the
story, making much more out of it than necessary.

“Maybe we’ll have a free afternoon,” Draco said to Parkinson as they made their way to
double Defence. “Wouldn’t that be an unexpected boon.”

“Oh Draco, you poor thing,” Parkinson sighed, clinging to Draco’s arm while she batted large
eyes at him.

Draco nodded sagely. “Pomfrey was a complete hack. I’ve yet to encounter a curse she can
actually crack.”

Quirrell was nowhere to be seen as they entered the classroom. Everyone still sat down, since
it wasn’t unusual for a professor to only enter the classroom once the bell had rung and class
had officially started.

“Draco may have sounded funny when he said it, but he was right that we might have an
unexpected afternoon off,” Blaise said when the bell rang and Quirrell still hadn’t shown up.

A clunking sound approached the classroom from outside in the corridor. The grizzled face of
Alastor Moody appeared in the doorway, giving every child assembled a suspicious look,
fake eye spinning in its socket.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. This was the real Alastor Moody, the same bastard who’d
tried to kidnap Harry during the Yule holidays on Dumbledore’s order. And now he was here
to teach them Defence, apparently.

“Quirrell cursed himself and he’ll be out of the running for a while,” Moody grunted as he
walked across the classroom to the front, prosthetic leg dragging slightly along. “So I’ll be
your instructor for the time being.”
 Chapter 53
Chapter Summary

Moody teaches his first class, Neville and Theo save the day, Harry comes to a difficult
conclusion and then has to convince Snape to do the impossible.

Chapter Notes

This story is far from over, but as you'll notice in this chapter, it is taking a whole new
turn. It was always my plan to do so from the start. Part of the reason I decided to write
this story was to subvert common tropes in this genre.

Thank you all for your support and for your patience. Let me know what you think. Your
comments have kept me happy, eager and inspired to keep writing this story for 2,5
years now.

Chapter 53

The whole class was silent as everyone stared at Alastor Moody in shock. Even the
Gryffindors were suitably impressed by the sight of the old, grizzled Auror with many scars
marring his face.

Harry had to work very hard not to glower at Moody. That pillock had tried to kidnap Harry
during the Yule Holidays on Dumbledore’s order. Harry was sure that Dumbledore was
behind all of this. Quirrell had suffered an ‘accident’ and very conveniently Dumbledore’s
most loyal lackey showed up to take over his class.

So, that’s how Dumbledore was going to play it. Since the old man wasn’t allowed to
approach Harry anymore on pain of losing his actual job as Headmaster of Hogwarts, he
instead sent a flunky to keep Harry in check. Though, to be fair, Moody was by no means a
powerless underling. Moody and that blasted eye of his were able to cause plenty of problems
for Harry at Hogwarts. If he ever looked through the bathroom wall and saw Harry disappear
down to the Chamber of Secrets, who knew what might happen? Harry’s dates with Tom
were clearly at risk here.

Moody stood in the front of the class and looked from student to student. When his eyes
landed on a Gryffindor, Moody tilted one corner of his mouth up in a crooked smile, but
when his eyes found a Slytherin, he sneered.
“While I’m here I’m going to teach you about curses,” Moody said in a grumbling voice as
he took out his wand. “I’m going to need an assistant for a demonstration.”

Every student in the room shrank back, even Harry, who had no desire to become a
convenient target for Moody to use in the name of education.

Moody swept his gaze across the students, artificial eye spinning a few times before it landed
on Draco, who was sitting in front of Harry. “You are Lucius Malfoy’s spawn, aren’t you?”

Draco kept his mouth firmly closed and nodded once, eyes narrowed in defiance but cheeks
frightfully pale.

“Come here, boy.” Moody’s grizzled face morphed into a parody of geniality as he made a
sweeping motion with his arm to invite Draco to join him in front of the classroom. “Today,
you’ll help me demonstrate the boil curse.”

Hermione’s hand shot up straight into the air. “But Professor,” she said without waiting for
Moody to notice her. “We were only just practicing Petrificus Totalus. Professor Quirrell said
we wouldn’t start on more advanced curses until our second year.”

“Well, I’m not Professor Quirrell, now am I?” Moody barked, glaring at Hermione, who
immediately hunched her shoulders and bowed her head. “Right now you’re learning curses
and young Malfoy here is going to help me.”

Malfoy swallowed audibly and slunk towards the front of the room. He kept his head down
but his grey eyes were blazing with hatred as he kept them fixed on the old Auror.

“There’s no need to hold your wand,” Moody said when Draco raised his wand in self-
defence. “You’re just here to demonstrate the curse.” And before Draco could say or do
anything, Moody shot off a silent curse. Boils erupted across every inch of Draco’s pale skin,
thick, red pustules that oozed puss.

Draco cried out in shock and pain, dropping his wand as he hugged his own body. He
squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

And Harry had enough. He didn’t particularly like Draco and he certainly enjoyed putting
Draco in his place when he deserved it, but this was just plain assault. Moody was an adult
Auror who purposefully cursed an eleven-year-old child.

Hermione’s hand shot up again before Harry could say anything. “Sir, you never said a spell
out loud. How are we supposed to learn it if we don’t know what curse you used?”

“Silence,” Moody snarled, clearly annoyed at being constantly questioned.

“She’s got a point,” Harry called out, sitting up so he could glare at Moody. “Right now it
looks like you’re merely torturing a student you don’t like, instead of teaching us about
magical Defence.”

Moody seemed ready to rip into Harry when Draco, still with his eyes squeezed shut, nodded
vehemently in agreement. “Wait until my father hears about this. You’ll be shipped off
straight to Azkaban to receive the kiss.”

“Your father?” Moody growled as he clunked closer to Draco, wand aimed at Draco’s face.
“Let me tell you about your father, boy! He may have bought his way out of a prison
sentence, but we all know he is a Death Eater. And do you know what sort of mayhem Death
Eaters got up to while they threw themselves at Voldemort’s feet?”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry held his hand up and caught Moody’s wand as it sailed through the air
towards him.

Moody looked as though Harry had just ripped a baby apart with his bare hands right in front
of him. “How dare you?”

“I dare because I won’t stand for you torturing a student,” Harry said as he rose from his seat.
“This has nothing to do with teaching us Defence. This is a power trip from a has-been Auror
who got sacked from his old job for attempted kidnapping of a child.”

Moody released an animalistic roar and ran towards Harry as quickly as his prosthetic leg
allowed him.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Surprisingly, this wasn’t cast by Harry, but by a very pale-looking
Neville, who held his wand in an unsteady hand. Moody dropped face-first to the floor, stiff
as a board. Neville looked from his own wand to Harry with wide eyes. “Oh no, I just hexed
a professor! I’m going to get expelled! Gran is going to kill me.” Neville’s bottom lip started
trembling while his eyes became suspiciously bright.

“Nah, you defended your fellow students,” Harry was quick to point out, so very proud of his
young friend. It seemed that this time around Neville was coming into his own a bit faster
than he had during Harry’s first life.

Draco still stood whimpering, apparently unable to open his swollen eyes. “Millie,” Harry
said, realizing that someone needed to take charge of the situation. “Take Draco to the
hospital wing.” Millicent and Parkinson hurried towards Draco and gently grabbed his arms
to lead him away.

“What should we do?” Daphne asked as she and Tracey got up to join Harry at his desk.
Other students got up as well now that the immediate danger had passed.

Theo cleared his throat when Harry didn’t answer immediately. “Students can hire a private
tutor for any subject in case of a hostile relationship with a professor. It’s in the rulebook.”

“Huh.” Harry gave Theo a bright smile. That was the answer to their current problems,
obviously. “So that’s what we’ll do, as long as Moody remains as our Defence professor.
Everybody should also write to their parents about what happened here today. And to the
Board of Governors, to complain about Dumbledore’s hiring practices.”

“Looks like we got a free afternoon after all,” Blaise said with a careless shrug and a highly
amused grin. He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the classroom door.
“We can’t just leave,” Hermione insisted, gesturing wildly at the still petrified Moody. “We
can’t just leave a Professor here like this.”

“Sure we can,” Harry said, barely glancing at her. He was pleased to see that Hermione was
the only student protesting. Ron, Seamus and Dean were already on their way out of the
classroom as well, as was everyone else. Harry placed Moody’s wand on his desk, grabbed
his own bag, waved Neville over to join them, and then left the classroom behind.

“I’ve got detention with Snape tonight,” Harry said to his friends as they walked towards the
library without even thinking about it. “I’ll tell him exactly what happened and lodge a
formal complaint.”

Once they were all seated around their usual table in the library, Harry turned towards Theo.
“How exactly does it work to hire a private tutor?” It had been months since Harry had read
Hogwarts’ book of rules and regulations and at the time he’d focused most of his attention on
how to start student groups.

“A student has to make a case for the hostile relationship with the professor,” Theo said while
everyone looked at him curiously. “And the student has to provide the tutor at their own cost.
Their Head of House has to sign off on it, but that’s it, I’m sure.”

“Mr and Mrs Malfoy will probably supply a tutor for Draco after Moody’s attack,” Daphne
said with a small frown. “But I’m unsure if they’ll allow others to join those private lessons.”

“I’ll hire someone for all of us,” Harry said at once. He was not going to put any other
Slytherin first-year in danger by having them ‘taught’ by Moody. Harry’s first instinct was to
ask Tom to come teach them. How fucking funny would it be to have Tom Riddle come to
Hogwarts to teach right under Dumbledore’s nose? Then Harry remembered that Tom
actually had a full-time job, working for his and Barty’s warding and curse-breaking
business. They couldn’t expect Tom to show up at Hogwarts several times a week to
accommodate a bunch of eleven-year-olds.

But there was someone else who could teach Defence, at least on their level, and who didn’t
have a job at all. Sirius could probably do with a bit of distraction, after Remus dumped him
and all.

Yeah, Sirius was actually a good choice, because he was a Gryffindor and Dumbledore
couldn’t really object to him as much as he might do if Harry asked Tom. Dumbledore had no
actual proof, but the old man was completely convinced that Tom was Voldemort, new
identity or not. Sirius was still, at least on paper, a loyal subject of Dumbledore.

Then Harry realized that he needed Snape’s approval for his choice of tutor. Oh fuck. Snape
would never agree with Sirius galivanting around Hogwarts, teaching a bunch of children.

Well, no matter. Harry had a few hours to come up with a reasonable story to help convince
Snape to allow the man he probably hated most in the world to teach his youngest Slytherins.
Of course, it also dawned on Harry that Sirius might not even want to teach a bunch of
Slytherins. Harry’s godfather could be quite the prejudiced prick himself, Harry was well
aware of that.
It was probably a good idea to make sure Sirius was even interested in the job before Harry
went to all the trouble of trying to convince Snape of the impossible. “Excuse me,” Harry
said as he got up from his chair. “Loo break.”

Instead of heading to the bathroom, Harry ran down towards the dungeons. Slightly out of
breath he entered his dormitory and flung himself onto his bed. He opened the little drawer in
his nightstand and grabbed Sirius’ communication mirror. Since he was alone in the room he
didn’t bother closing the curtains around his bed.

Sirius answered the mirror quite soon after Harry said his name. Harry was pleased to see
that his godfather looked a bit better. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t nearly as
pronounced anymore.

“Hey, Harry. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, about that.” Harry sighed and told Sirius everything that had happened just then
during Defence.

“Moody really cursed Draco Malfoy in front of the whole class?” Sirius asked with a dubious
frown. “I mean, everyone knows the bloke hates Death Eaters, but Draco is only a child,
right?”

Harry was very glad to hear that Sirius at least understood that such a thing was wrong on all
levels. “Yeah, it was ridiculous. Any other teacher would probably be sacked for such
behaviour, but Dumbledore wants Moody here, so I doubt we’ll be rid of him anytime soon.”
As he was saying that, something else dawned on Harry.

As long as Dumbledore had power at Hogwarts, he would find ways to interfere with Harry’s
life. He’d do it through a whole array of lackeys and flunkies if he had to, but he’d never,
ever leave Harry alone. And in the process of his obsession over gaining control of Harry,
Dumbledore was actually causing real harm to Harry’s fellow students.

Because even Draco Malfoy as an eleven-year-old child didn’t deserve to be cursed by a

Professor just for who his father was.

“The Board might be able to interfere on the students’ behalf,” Sirius suggested, obviously
trying to sound optimistic. “But that will take time.”

“There’s a solution to all of this,” Harry said while giving Sirius an expectant look. “Students
are allowed to hire a tutor for a subject if they have a hostile relationship with the professor.”

“Oh, there’s your answer then.” Sirius gave Harry a wide grin. “Do you need help paying for
a tutor?”

“No, I want you to be our tutor.” Harry held his breath as he watched Sirius’ face do a few
funny things.

“You mean, you want me to come to Hogwarts to teach you Defence?” Sirius asked slowly,
carefully, as though he was truly uncertain about what Harry really wanted of him.
“Well, not me personally, because I already know all this stuff. But my class, they need a
tutor.” Harry swallowed and glanced down, unsure how to approach the Slytherin the room.
He decided for the direct approach in the end. “You would be teaching mostly Slytherins,
though.”

Sirius clearly seemed a bit torn about that particular prospect, as Harry suspected he would
be. Then he perked up all of a sudden. “I suppose most of these kids could do with a teacher
who went his own way. It might do those little snakes some good to see a Black who went
against all the horrible traditions of his family.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, though he remained a bit wary of Sirius’ sudden change of mood. Then
again, Sirius actually made a good point, that kids like Draco and Parkinson might do well
with a different kind of pureblood influence in their life for a change. “So you’ll do it?”

Sirius gave a careless shrug, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure at being asked to help his
godson out. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing better to do anyway. Might as well make myself useful.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a grateful smile. Then he remembered the next step in the process.
“Now I only have to convince Snape to agree with all of this.”

“Snivellus?” Sirius’ eyes widened in shock, mouth dropping open. “I have to work with
Snivellus?”

“No,” Harry snapped, genuinely annoyed that Sirius refused to drop that ridiculously childish
nickname. “Stop calling him that! Snape has to sign off on this, that’s it. You won’t have to
see him.”

“Oh, good luck with that,” Sirius said as he threw his head back and laughed. “You’d
probably have an easier time convincing Dumbledore to leave you alone once and for all,
than to convince Snape to let me teach his precious little snakes.”

Sighing, Harry shook his head. Sirius had just reminded him of a rather important realization
Harry had that day. “There’s something else I want to discuss with you,” Harry whispered,
unable to meet Sirius’ eyes in the mirror.

Sirius stopped laughing at once when he noticed Harry’s downcast expression. “What’s the
matter?”

“At first, doing my time at Hogwarts over was great,” Harry said, staring off into the
distance, eyes unfocused. “I really enjoyed getting to just be a kid for a while.”

“But…” Sirius said gently when Harry remained quiet and still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t think I can do this for much longer,” Harry whispered as though confessing to a
terrible crime. Some part of Harry insisted that he should do his entire life over. He’d been
given this chance, after all, so he should relive every part of his life.

“I’m not surprised,” Sirius said quietly with an almost knowing look. “Ever since you told
me the truth about your past, I’ve been thinking about what I would do if I were in your
shoes. And I’m sure I couldn’t pretend to be a child again, not for anything. Maybe if I’d
been returned while being a teenager, sixteen or seventeen, I could put up with it for a while.
But eleven? Nah, I’d go mad.”

Inexplicably, Harry felt like crying as he listened to his godfather’s confession. “Yeah,” Harry
breathed around an annoying lump in his throat. He swallowed a few times while he plucked
at the corner of his pillow on which he balanced the mirror. “The first couple of months, it
almost felt like a holiday, being a child again. But now I just miss being an adult more and
more.”

Sirius nodded, his grey eyes full of sympathy.

“Would you apply for custody of me?” Harry asked, voice small and trembling with
uncertainty.

“Of course,” Sirius said at once, eyes widening as he gave Harry a concerned look. “Why
now, though?”

“Because if you got custody of me, you could officially pull me out of Hogwarts,” Harry
said, finally voicing the ideas that had been floating around his mind for a while now, even if
he had barely acknowledged them before. “On paper, you could tutor me privately. I could
take my OWLs and NEWTs in a few years at the ICW, since they allow anyone of any age to
take them.”

“I’ll write Sybil Post at once to get the procedures for getting custody of you started,” Sirius
said, his smile warm as he shifted in his seat and readjusted the mirror in his hand. “I should
be able to get it, since I finished my healing regime and I’ve been declared fully recovered by
St Mungo’s.”

“That’s great.” Harry was overcome with emotions for some reason. You’d think that being
eighteen was old enough to not need a caring adult to look after you, but apparently not. This
was all Harry had ever wanted in his first life, and now he was finally getting it. “Thank you,
Sirius.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.” Sirius seemed full of energy again, now that he had some solid
plans for his own future, and it dawned on Harry that perhaps Sirius needed this as much as
Harry did. “I’m going to write that letter now. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.” Harry clicked the mirror shut and wiped his hand over his eyes a few times. Once he
lived with Sirius he could still meet up with Tom and use aging potions while he did so. And
the rest of the time he could study whatever he wanted, work with the Flamels on a few new
projects perhaps, and relax as much as he needed.

And most importantly, Dumbledore couldn’t harass him every step of the way.

Harry used the bathroom and splashed some water in his face before he returned to the
library.
“You were gone a long time,” Neville said as Harry sat down opposite him. “We were
starting to get worried.”

“Neville was convinced Dumbledore had expelled you on the way to the loo,” Blaise said,
offering Harry a bright smile. “Glad to see you’re still around.”

“I found us a tutor for Defence,” Harry said, looking between all of his friends. “My
godfather, Sirius Black.”

Theo blinked a few times as he took in that news, while Neville looked like he wasn’t sure
what to feel about that.

“He’s bound to know a lot of really good curses,” Blaise said with a curious tilt of his head.
“He’s a Black, after all.”

“Is he even capable of teaching?” Daphne said, and when everyone looked at her in
confusion, she added, “No offence, Harry, but the man did spent about a decade living with
dementors.”

“None taken,” Harry said at once, understanding all too well that this might be a very real
concern for some. Dementor-induced mental decline was no joke. “He’s followed a strict
healing regime and St Mungo’s has declared him recovered.”

“I for one wouldn’t mind being taught by a Black,” Tracey said with a considering look.
“They’re known for their duelling skills, usually.”

While his friends debated the pros and cons of having Sirius Black as a Defence tutor for a
while longer, Harry focused once again on the problem of convincing Snape to agree to this
whole plan. Perhaps Harry should simply try to blackmail him? Or bribe him? But with
what?

By the time their Hufflepuff friends joined them in the library Harry still wasn’t any closer to
a solution, but he had no more time to consider the problem.

“Neville cursed a professor!” Tracey said with a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

“What?” Susan looked at Neville in disbelief while Hannah dropped her quill case, spilling
quills all over the floor.

“Moody assaulted Draco so he had it coming,” Blaise said, leaning back in his seat and
looking very much like he couldn’t wait to see everyone’s reactions to that particular story.

Justin seemed entirely lost for words as he gaped at Neville in astonishment. Ernie frowned
and chewed on a finger as he stared at Neville as though he was worried the boy might
disappear in front of his eyes.

And Harry was suddenly filled with a real sense of loss. He loved these kids. He really did.
They were his friends, young as they were. And Harry was going to miss them all terribly
once he left Hogwarts, probably at the end of the year. At once Harry was more determined
than ever to figure out how to make communication mirrors that could be used for different
recipients at once. That way Harry could easily stay in touch with his friends. He might even
be able to still help teach the Culture Club, if he simply created a larger communication
mirror they could hang up on the wall.

Yeah, Harry might be leaving his friends, but obviously not all was lost.

And in another year, his friends would be allowed to visit Hogsmeade and Harry could meet
up with them there. He might even be able to rent a private room at the Three Broomsticks or
the Hogs Head and start a small version of the DA to teach his friends spells like the Patronus
Charm. And Harry knew ways to sneak out of the castle he could share with his friends, so
they might be able to meet on other days as well.

The more Harry thought about it, the more he was convinced that he wouldn’t have to lose
his friends after all.

He still didn’t look forward to actually tell them of his decision, but then again, Sirius didn’t
have custody of him just yet. It was probably best to wait to say anything to anyone until
Sirius was his official guardian, lest someone try to stop that from ever happening.
Dumbledore was far too eager to stick his nose into Harry’s private business, after all.

Except, of course, for Tom. Harry couldn’t wait to tell his soulmate of his new plans later that
evening.

“Moody really just cursed Malfoy like that?” Susan asked in disbelief while Theo shared the
whole story with them, sordid details and all. Susan probably knew Moody quite well, Harry
imagined, since her aunt was Moody’s boss. Well, until Moody got sacked a few months ago.

“The man was entirely unhinged,” Daphne said with a disapproving little sniff.

Tracey shuddered. “And I’m sure that he’d have continued cursing students if Harry and
Neville hadn’t stopped him.

“What is Dumbledore even thinking, hiring someone like that,” Ernie mused with a
disapproving frown and tightly pursed lips.

“I really hope you won’t get into trouble,” Hannah whispered while giving Harry and Neville
worried looks. “Or end up expelled.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry said quickly, when Neville paled so drastically he looked like he might
actually faint. “The Board of Governors would never stand for a student getting expelled for
defending other students, even against a member of staff.”

Neville gave a tiny nod but remained deathly pale for a while longer. None of them got much
homework done that afternoon as they kept recounting the whole mess and speculating about
the motivations from everyone involved.

During dinner, Harry and his friends kept a close eye on the head table, but Moody never
showed up. Then again, Moody was exactly the kind of paranoid bastard who’d refuse to eat
in public, so that might be the reason he wasn’t there. Dumbledore wasn’t there, either, but
Snape was and he gave Harry many intense looks all throughout the meal. Whether that was
because Harry had detention with him, or because Snape had heard about the incident during
Defence, Harry wasn’t sure.

“Potter, with me,” Snape said as he stalked up to the Slytherin table once Harry was done
with his fish pie. Snape didn’t say a word all the way down to the dungeons. It wasn’t until
they stood in Snape’s office with the door firmly closed and warded, that Snape crossed his
arms and gave Harry a stern look. “Tell me what happened during Defence today, Potter. I’ve
already heard Draco’s version of events, but I want to hear your version, too.”

Translation: Draco was a child who might embellish a professor’s actions. Snape trusted
Harry to give him a more levelled recounting of events.

So Harry inhaled a deep breath and told Snape what happened without getting lost in any
details. “Moody was unhinged right from the start. He immediately singled Draco out, called
him upfront and cursed him without explaining anything.” Harry wrinkled his nose in clear
distaste. “He wasn’t teaching, Sir. He was punishing Draco for his father’s actions. And once
it became clear Moody wasn’t about to stop, I disarmed him. When Moody then tried to
physically attack me, Neville Longbottom petrified him.”

Snape didn’t say anything, but merely kept staring at Harry with unreadable, black eyes.

“I’d like to lodge a formal complaint against Mr Moody,” Harry said, tilting his chin up a bit
to appear more confident than he felt. How the fuck was he going to convince Snape to let
Sirius teach? Harry had no clue and he was running out of time to come up with a workable
plan. “And I’d like to remove myself from the Defence class and apply for a private tutor on
the grounds that Mr Moody tried to kidnap me in December. That must count as a hostile
relationship.”

“It certainly does,” Snape finally said, sounding neither appalled nor impressed with Harry’s
response. “I suspect Draco will make a similar request after he’s spoken with his parents.
Perhaps you can hire a tutor together.”

“I already have a tutor in mind,” Harry said, his voice hitching even though he tried very hard
to sound reasonable and confident.

Snape narrowed his eyes as though he could see right through Harry and his idiotic plans.
“Who, Potter? If you expect me to agree to let the Dark Lord teach here, you need to think
again.”

“No, not Tom.” Harry swallowed and wanted very much to stare at his own shoes. But he
kept his chin up and his gaze fixed on Snape’s unimpressed face. “I’ve asked Sirius to teach
us and he’s agreed.”

It was rather impressive how quickly Snape’s face flushed a blotchy red. “Black?” Snape
yelled, shoulders impossibly tight while his hands started trembling. “You want me to agree
to let Sirius Black inside this castle to teach impressionable young minds? Have you gone
insane, Potter?”
Yeah, that reaction was even worse than Harry had expected and he was at a loss of how to
respond to that. “Sirius would be a good choice,” Harry whispered, because he had to say
something.

Snape’s entire face flushed impossibly further until it was almost magenta. “I will never
agree to let Black teach a single child in this castle. Now get out!”

Harry blinked. “I had a detention, didn’t I?”

“GET OUT!” Snape bellowed, looking very close to pulling his wand out and cursing Harry
to within an inch of his life.

Harry left in a hurry, not looking back. Apparently detention was cancelled.

As Harry trotted through the dark corridors towards the Slytherin dungeons, he was forced to
admit he had bollocksed that all up. Clearly the animosity between Snape and Sirius was far
greater than Harry could possibly ever imagine. Still, Sirius was the best choice for a tutor.
He was smart, available and willing to do the job. Plus Sirius teaching students for a few
weeks or months would probably look really good on his custody application for Harry.

How the hell was Harry going to fix this situation? It was clear Snape had no desire to agree
with Harry’s request and Harry didn’t think he had what it took to convince Snape to change
his mind either. Of course, Harry knew someone who did have that kind of influence over
Snape, whether Snape liked it or not.

Theo and Blaise were hanging out in the common room, but Harry ran past them towards
their dormitory. “Be right back, just need to do something!”

“That was a remarkably short detention,” Blaise said with a chuckle before Harry
disappeared in the hallway that lead to the dormitories.

Harry settled on his bed and this time he did close and ward his curtains before opening his
mirror and calling for his soulmate.

“Tom!” Harry sagged in relief when Tom answered the mirror. “I need your help.”

“What happened?” Tom asked at once, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and blurted, “I need you to get your Dark Lord on and convince
Snape to let Sirius teach here at Hogwarts.”
 Chapter 54
Chapter Summary

Tom has a simple solution, Harry desperately needs Sirius' help, Neville faces a
challenge and an old enemy returns.

Chapter Notes

Thank you all for your patience and for your endless support. The response to this story
really has surpassed my wildest dreams. Recently it passed 30000 kudos and 1000000
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I hope you'll all enjoy this update. Please let me know what you think. Your comments
always inspire me to keep writing.

Chapter 54

Tom stared at Harry as though he wasn’t exactly sure at that moment why he associated with
Harry in the first place. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more than that, my dear. I
sincerely doubt even I am powerful enough to convince Severus to put up with Black in any
way, shape or form.”

Sighing, Harry threw himself down on the bed, stretching out on his back while he held the
mirror up over his face. “Moody cursed Draco and now we need a tutor and Sirius has agreed
to do it, but now Snape refuses to cooperate.”

“Moody cursed Draco?” Tom looked as though he sincerely doubted Harry’s intelligence at
that moment.

“Oh, right, you didn’t even know yet,” Harry pushed himself up on an elbow so he could
inhale a deep breath and rattle off what had happened. “Apparently, Quirrell had an accident
or something, so Dumbledore got Moody to teach Defence. In class this morning, Moody
cursed Draco for no reason at all, and me and Neville stopped him. We’re allowed to hire our
own tutor if there exists a hostile relationship with any member of staff, but our Head of
House has to sign off on it.”

“I see.” Tom’s brow furrowed for a moment and then he gave Harry a smile that promised
everything would soon be all right again. “I’ll contact Quirrell after this talk to see what
happened to him. Why don’t you just have Neville ask Minnie for permission. As far as I’m
aware, she was always very fond of Black, so I doubt she’ll refuse him for a tutoring
position.”

“Huh.” Harry stared at his boyfriend in amazement. “That’s bloody brilliant. I’d been
worrying for hours about how to get Snape to agree to let Sirius teach us, but this passes him
by entirely.”

“And it allows me to keep the cordial working relationship I have developed with Severus
over the past few months.” Tom pulled one corner of his lips up in a half-smile. “If I were to
get my Dark Lord on, as you call it, and order Severus to cooperate with Black, I’ll lose
whatever fragile balance we’ve established between ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed quickly. “This works just fine. I’ll have Neville talk to McGonagall
tomorrow.” Biting his bottom lip, Harry considered telling Tom the other news he had. Part
of him wanted to wait to tell him in person, but their next meeting in the Chamber of Secrets
was still almost a week away. And Harry sincerely doubted he could wait that long, because
now that he’d made a decision, he was ridiculously excited about it. “I’ve got more news.”

“Oh?” Tom quirked an eyebrow at Harry, clearly waiting for him to go on.

For some reason, Harry’s cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire. “Good news. Well, I
mean, I think it’s good news. I’m sure you will be happy with it as well--”

“Harry,” Tom said with an exasperated sigh. “What is the news?”

“I’m quitting Hogwarts,” Harry blurted, barely able to breathe. “I mean, I’ll finish this year,
but I won’t come back for my second year.”

“Ah.” For a few long moments, Tom’s face remained almost suspiciously blank. But then his
eyes narrowed and his face split open with a wide grin. “Finally got tired of the old man’s
manipulations, did you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a rather bitter sigh. “I just realized that Dumbledore is never going to
stop coming after me, trying to control me. Now that he’s no longer allowed to approach me
by himself, he’s not above cursing a member of his own staff to insert a flunky to do the dirty
work for him.”

Tom nodded a few times, the mirror bobbing up and down in his hand as he shifted his
position. “I’m so glad to hear you’ve finally figured that out.”

“Sirius is going to apply for custody of me,” Harry added, his whole chest feeling as though
it was filled with fizzing whizzbees. “I figured I can spend weekdays with him, to keep up
appearances, and on the weekends we can get together.”

“That sounds like a perfect plan.” Rather abruptly, Tom’s expression went from open and
happy to closed and worried. “Did your parents leave a will that named Black first in line for
your custody?”
Harry blinked. “I have no idea. No one ever mentioned a will. Not even the goblins this
summer when I went to talk about my account.”

“A copy of an official will would have been stored at Gringotts,” Tom said while giving
Harry a calculating look. “So I doubt your parents ever made one in the first place. This
might complicate matters in terms of your custody.”

“How so?” Harry demanded, sitting up in alarm. The last thing he wanted was more drama in
his life.

“When parents leave a will that clearly states who should become the child’s guardian upon
the parents’ deaths, hardly anyone would ever dare to file a dispute. The Wizengamot
wouldn’t go against an official will except in very rare circumstances,” Tom explained,
almost effortlessly slipping into lecture mode. “But if there’s no will, and no clear close blood
relatives, then anyone can apply for custody and the Wizengamot will consider them.”

“But Sirius is my godfather!” Harry almost yelled out of sheer frustration. He could not
believe that Sirius getting custody of him might not be as simple as he’d expected. “He
should get custody.”

“Godfather is an honorary title,” Tom said with a patient smile, not at all perturbed that Harry
suddenly seemed so upset. “It’s not a legal title and it holds no official value in court.
Besides, people could very easily argue that Black isn’t suitable as your guardian, because
he’s a single man who spent ten years in Azkaban getting his mind scrambled.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “Sirius already sent a message to Sybil Post, to get the custody
application started.”

“That’s good, at least. Post is a very competent solicitor. She’ll take all of this into account
when dealing with the Wizengamot,” Tom assured Harry in a soothing tone. “I just want you
to be prepared that most likely more people will apply for custody of you once it becomes
clear your custody is up for grabs in the first place.”

“That’s just great.” Harry kicked his foot against his blankets in a futile attempt to get rid of
some of the anger that suddenly burned in his chest. Just moments before he’d been full of
warm happiness, and now he was consumed by rage again, all because of stupid fucking
politics.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Tom said with a wicked little grin. “If it comes down to it, I can
always get my Dark Lord on and order Lucius and Dorus and a few others to sway the
Wizengamot vote in a direction that’s favourable for us.”

“Okay, that’s good to know.” Sighing, Harry let himself fall back against the mattress again.
What a mess his life was. Honestly, nothing could ever go as planned, could it? “This makes
me wonder what will go wrong with my paper on sentient wards. I sent that off to the Flamels
this morning, with the pictures I took.”

Tom seemed happy enough to change the subject for the time being. “Did you develop our
pictures yet?”
“No, I didn’t develop any pictures myself. I sent them all to that photography shop in
Occasion Alley,” Harry said carelessly, suddenly exhausted from this whole new influx of
strong emotions he was forced to deal with.

Tom blinked. “You sent pictures of us snogging to be developed in a shop?”

Harry slowly turned his head so he could stare into the mirror, surprised by Tom’s rather
strong reaction. “Yeah. What of it?”

“Those are pictures of me snogging Harry Potter!” Tom’s eyes grew wider and wider, as
though he couldn’t possibly understand Harry’s rather blasé reaction to the whole thing.

“I was using an aging potion,” Harry quickly pointed out. “I was twenty in those pictures.”

“That stupid scar of yours was on full display, no matter your supposed age,” Tom said, his
voice pitching higher and higher.

Before he could stop himself, Harry raised his hand and ran his fingers over his scar. What
the fuck was Tom thinking, calling his scar stupid. Tom had put that stupid scar there in the
first place. “I hadn’t realized it would be a big deal,” Harry said just a bit snootily.

Sighing, Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you don’t like to think about it, my
dear, but you are a celebrity. No matter. I’ll stop by that shop first thing in the morning and
make sure there are no extra copies of those pictures being held back for nefarious purposes.
Then I’ll obliviate those who need it.” Tom gave Harry a rather tired look. “Do me a favour,
though, and simply develop your own film from now on.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, feeling oddly insulted for some reason. Or perhaps he merely felt
embarrassed that he hadn’t realized any of these things by himself. Harry liked to think he
was a grownup, an adult who could take care of every aspect of his own life without needing
any input from anyone. And then he went and bollocksed it all up because he’d forgotten
about his own stupid scar.

“Harry,” Tom said with a rather knowing look, as though he was aware Harry was quietly
beating himself up. “These things happen. It’s nothing we can’t fix with a bit of magic.”

“I suppose.” Harry released a sigh that seemed to rise up all the way from the depths of the
earth. “I just get so tired of shit always happening just when something good comes along.”

Tom snorted with laughter and when Harry glared at him in response, he quickly shook his
head. “I’m afraid that’s what life is ultimately all about. Dealing with the shit that keeps
happening in between the few good moments you get to really enjoy.”

“That is depressing,” Harry said, suddenly seeing the rest of his life looming over him as one
gigantic pile of steaming shit.

“Perhaps it is,” Tom whispered, eyes gleaming with affection. “It does make all those
enjoyable moment all the more precious.” Tom swallowed and licked his lips. “I am
genuinely looking forward to seeing you during the spring holidays. And I am absolutely
delighted you’ve decided to leave Hogwarts after this year. Those are the things that make
this life worth living for me.”

Well, that certainly left nothing to the imagination, as far as Tom’s feelings went. “Yeah,”
Harry whispered, stomach suddenly full of flutters. “Me too.” It was a rather awkward reply,
but Harry couldn’t for the life of him think of anything else to say.

Tom gave him a knowing smile in return. “Get some rest, my dear. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Night, Tom,” Harry said, smiling as he slowly closed the mirror. When Tom’s face
disappeared and the mirror clicked shut, Harry let his head fall back against his bed with a
sigh. It was still rather early in the evening, too early to go to bed, but Harry didn’t feel like
joining his friends in the common room either.

Tom had once again reminded Harry that soon enough, in a few short weeks, they’d be
spending a week together at Nott Manor. And Tom had also already mentioned, more than
once, that he’d be happy to get physical with Harry in every sexy way possible, as long as
Harry was okay with it.

And yeah, the more Harry thought about it, the more he was sure he wanted to get naked with
Tom. And do some stuff. Some sexy stuff.

Frowning, Harry stared up at the green canopy of his bedcurtains. What sort of sexy stuff did
two guys even do together? Harry could imagine some things just fine. Giving and receiving
hand jobs and blow jobs. So far so good. But guys also fucked, right? That idea, of having
Tom somehow shove his cock inside Harry’s body was a bit daunting. Oh, make no mistake,
Harry also found it very intriguing and he was certain he wanted to give it a try at the very
least, but if he was totally honest with himself, Harry had no clue how to go about any of
those things.

There had to be spells, right? To help lubricate certain things. And probably to clean specific
areas of his body beforehand. Tom would almost certainly know those spells, but Harry
didn’t want to be dependent on Tom for every little thing. Harry was an adult, and while he
still bollocksed things up regularly, he desperately wanted to prove that he was an adult who
could do adult things all by himself. Without needing Tom to hold his hand and guide him
through it.

Yeah, Harry came to the conclusion that he desperately needed a lesson in butt-sex. Not
necessarily a practical lesson yet. He’d save those for when he got to spend the night with
Tom. But Harry needed to educate himself about these matters. Urgently. But how did one
find the right books? Should Harry just write a letter to Flourish and Blotts, asking them for a
selection of their finest books about the art of gay sex?

Harry snorted with laughter just thinking about Hedwig’s expression when he told her what
she’d be transporting back from the bookstore.

Usually, those days, if Harry had a question he couldn’t answer himself and didn’t want to
bother Tom with, he’d go to Barty. But did Barty even know anything about gay sex? Harry
couldn’t recall Barty ever mentioning his own sexuality. Barty might be completely straight,
for all Harry knew.

And did the wizarding world even have educational books on sex of any kind? Harry knew
that in many aspects the wizarding world could be very prudish. Whenever Seamus and Dean
discussed sex of any kind in their dormitory, Ron would develop a chronic case of bright red
ears while Neville always fled the dormitory altogether, as though he was embarrassed to
hear anyone even talk about sex. Both Ron and Neville had been raised in pureblood
wizarding households.

And so had Barty. He was a pureblood raised in a wizarding home. Barty might actually
become embarrassed if Harry even hinted at this kind of subject. And then Harry would get
embarrassed in return and he’d still not have any information that he needed.

After some serious thought, Harry knew there was only one wizard he could consult on this
matter. A pureblood who had made it his mission in life to go against every wizarding
tradition, just for the fun of it.

With a sigh, Harry placed Tom’s mirror on his nightstand and picked up Sirius’.

“Hey,” Harry said, trying to sound as though he wasn’t about to have a sex-talk with his
godfather. “Neville will talk to McGonagall tomorrow, so she can hire you as his tutor.”

“Your talk with Snape didn’t go well, I take it?” Sirius asked, looking far too amused.

“It was as expected,” Harry said vaguely, and then he cleared his throat, gathering all his
courage. “I need a favour.”

“What do you need?” Sirius asked, thankfully not making a big deal out of Harry’s request so
far.

“Please don’t get weird about it,” Harry said, his cheeks flushing no matter that he made a
huge effort to remain calm and mature. “But I need books about sex. Gay sex. With spells
and stuff.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled and his smile morphed into a huge grin. “Sure, I’ll send you some.”

Harry blinked. “Really? Just like that?”

“Of course. I know you’re really eighteen, Harry, and I vividly remember some of the stuff I
got up to when I was eighteen.” Sirius shrugged, as though none of this was particularly
shocking. “I’d rather you learn all the spells you’ll need instead of getting hurt.”

“Okay.” Harry sat up a little, feeling a bit lightheaded. He had not expected this request to go
over so easily. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Sirius suddenly frowned a bit as he stared at Harry. “I know you’re an
adult and all, but don’t let anyone pressure you into doing stuff you’re not ready for, all
right?”
“Yeah, I won’t,” Harry said quickly, oddly touched Sirius would think to say that to him.
Harry didn’t recall he’d ever had anyone in his life before to look out for him when it came to
these kind of situations.

“Because it’s fine to wait, no matter how old you are.” Sirius waited for Harry to nod in
agreement and then he relaxed again. Harry said his goodbyes to his godfather and then spent
a while worrying about what sort of information he’d find in those books Sirius was sending
him. What if, after reading about it, he didn’t want to have butt-sex after all? What if Tom
didn’t want to have butt-sex but Harry did, or vice versa? Why did sex have to be so
complicated, even when you weren’t having it yet?

The dormitory door opened and Harry heard Theo and Blaise shuffling inside. With a sigh, he
cancelled all the privacy spells around his bed and opened his curtains.

“So why was your detention cut short?” Blaise asked as he sat down on the edge of his own
bed to toe off his shoes. “Did Snape suddenly have a change of heart or did something else
happen?”

Harry snorted and swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Nah, I asked him to agree to let
Sirius tutor us. Snape and Sirius have a very volatile history together so you can imagine
Snape’s response. He was so thoroughly pissed off that I even dared ask him anything related
to Sirius that he spontaneously cancelled my detention and told me to get out.”

Blaise threw his head back and exploded with laughter. “So that is the trick to get out of
detention. Just piss Snape off enough.”

Theo chuckled for a few moments before his entire face creased with worry. “Now what,
though? I really don’t want to return to any class taught by Moody. My father was a Death
Eater, just as Draco’s.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Neville talk to McGonagall tomorrow to get Sirius approved as our
tutor. That shouldn’t be a problem,” Harry assured his friends while he stretched his arms
over his head. “Want to play some Exploding Snap?” It was part of their regular evening
routine and Harry wanted to savour these moments for as long as he could, now that he knew
he wouldn’t be coming back the next year.

Right after Harry turned in for the night and got comfortable in bed, Tom called him again on
his mirror. “I can’t get a hold of Quirrell. I tried his mirror, which he doesn’t answer. And
then I even tried to call him through his mark, but even that didn’t work. Do you have any
idea what happened to him?”

Harry gave Tom a rather dumbfounded look. “I honestly have no idea. Moody only said
Quirrell had cursed himself or something like that. I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Tom pursed his lips, obviously in a sour mood. Or perhaps he was genuinely
worried about one of his followers. If Dumbledore and Moody suspected Quirrell worked for
Voldemort in any capacity, there was no telling what they might have done to him.
The next day after lunch, Harry fell into step with Neville on their way to Double Charms.
“Nev, I need you to talk to McGonagall this afternoon and ask her to allow Sirius Black to
tutor us in Defence until Quirrell returns.”

Neville stared at Harry with wide eyes, as though Harry had just suggested that Neville jump
into the lake and wrestle the giant squid that afternoon. “I… er…”

No matter how brave Neville was at heart, he was also still an eleven year old boy who felt
incredibly intimidated by authority figures, including his own Head of House. And Harry
needed to remember that. “I can come with you, if you want, since Sirius is my godfather.”

“Would you?” Neville released a hugely relieved sigh.

After Charms ended, Harry and Neville trudged up the stairs together to seek out
McGonagall. Thankfully, they found her in her office.

“Mr Longbottom, Mr Potter, what can I do for you?” McGonagall asked as she waved them
both inside.

“Er…” Neville said after Harry gave him a soft but encouraging nudge in the side with his
elbow.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, looking entirely unimpressed by Neville’s inability to speak.
“Does this have anything to do with the alleged attack on Professor Moody yesterday?”

Neville gulped, quickly paling to such an extend that Harry genuinely worried he’d died right
there and then. Thankfully, Neville was so overcome with shock and fear that he was unable
to make even a single sound, and thus he didn’t accidentally confess to something he
shouldn’t.

Harry was by then used to McGonagall’s stern gaze and he gave her his best innocent smile.
“What attack would that be, Professor?”

“Several first year students claimed that you two cursed Professor Moody in class yesterday,”
McGonagall said, eyes narrowed to slits. “But when I asked Professor Moody himself if
something had happened, he vehemently denied it.”

“Well, something did happen,” Harry said, keeping his face carefully blank and his tone
polite. “Professor Moody cursed Draco Malfoy for no reason at all.”

“I am aware of the allegations Mr Malfoy has made against Professor Moody,” McGonagall
said quickly. “An official investigation is being conducted.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Harry said, still acting as professionally as he could. He knew all too
well that acting like an emotional wreck in front of McGonagall would get you nowhere. “I
have a hostile relationship with Professor Moody, since he tried to kidnap me in December.
And Neville is no longer comfortable in his presence after Professor Moody attacked a
classmate. We therefore politely ask you to allow Sirius Black to come tutor us for Defence
until Professor Quirrell gets better and returns to class.”
McGonagall widened her eyes minutely, the only indication that she seemed somewhat
surprised by Harry’s request. So Snape hadn’t spent the previous evening complaining to his
colleagues about Harry’s latest schemes. “You indeed have the right to request a tutor, and I
suppose that Mr Black would be suitable for the job. Would it be for just you two?”

“And for at least four other Slytherin students,” Harry said, knowing Theo, Blaise, Daphne
and Tracey would want to join in. He assumed that Millie, Parkinson, Vince and Greg would
join Draco’s tutor, but that was up to them to decide.

“Professor Snape is in charge of the Slytherin students,” McGonagall said primly, giving
Harry a stern look.

Harry sighed. “Yeah, I am aware, Professor. But even mentioning Sirius’ name in front of
Professor Snape last night upset him so much that he spontaneously cancelled my detention
and told me to get out. So here I am, asking the Deputy Headmistress instead.”

McGonagall’s mouth twitched a few times as she clearly tried to keep herself from smiling in
amusement. “Very well, Mr Potter. You and your fellow Slytherin students can join Mr
Longbottom to receive tutoring from Mr Black until Professor Quirrell returns.”

“What happened to him?” Harry asked, curious to finally get an answer about that.

“Apparently, Professor Quirrell accidentally cast a sleeping curse on himself,” McGonagall

said, looking as though she didn’t believe a word of it. “He remains asleep in the infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey suspects it might last for another few weeks.”

“I hope he recovers quickly,” Harry said with a grateful nod as he backed out of the office.
“Thank you, Professor. Have a pleasant afternoon.”

Neville only now seemed to realize that the conversation was over and he sprang back to life
and hurried out of the office after Harry. “How do you do that?” Neville asked, looking very
put out by his own inability to function when faced with someone in authority. “Have an
entire conversation like that, I mean.”

Harry patted Neville on the shoulder as they strolled to the library to join their friends.
“You’ll get there, Neville, I promise.” And Harry knew he would, and he would do anything
he could to make sure Neville started believing that too.

“Project Sirius Black is a go,” Harry said as he sat down at their regular table in the library.

“How exciting,” Tracey said with a wide smile, looking like she couldn’t wait for their next
Defence class. Daphne managed to keep her expression a bit more under control, but she too
perked up at hearing Harry’s news.

“He can’t be worse than Moody,” Blaise said with a shrug, though Harry noticed his eyes
gleaming with clear interest. Theo looked mostly relieved to know he wouldn’t end up cursed
like Draco anytime soon.
“It might be awhile before Quirrell returns, though,” Harry said as he pulled his Charms book
out of his bag. “He’s been hit with a sleeping curse and he’ll be in the infirmary for a few
weeks more.”

“Do you really think he cursed himself by accident with a sleeping curse?” Daphne asked,
narrowing her eyes as she looked around the table.

“Not even for one second,” Blaise said, taking his time to dip his quill into his ink bottle so
he could start writing his Charms essay.

“No matter,” Harry said while giving everyone a bright smile. He didn’t want his young
friends to worry themselves too much. Neville still looked far too pale about the whole
situation. “We won’t have to deal with Moody from now on.”

“A sleeping curse?” Tom asked in astonishment later that evening, when Harry was laying in
bed, mirror held in front of him. “Quirrell accidentally hit himself with a sleeping curse? The
old man isn’t even trying at this point, is he?”

Harry shrugged as best as he could lying down. “No matter how it happened, Quirrell is out
of the running for a few weeks at least.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Tom reached to the side and held up a stack of pictures. “I went
to the photography shop and obliviated the owner and the one clerk that works there. And I
got our pictures.”

“How did they turn out?” Harry couldn’t help but be incredibly curious.

“I’ll send your copies off tonight, so you’ll have them tomorrow.” Tom’s mouth morphed into
a mischievous grin. “I think you’ll like them. I’ve certainly been enjoying them plenty
already.”

“Urgh,” Harry said, glaring his hardest at his silly soulmate. “You’re a dirty old man. Why I
even put up with you I have no idea.”

Tom seemed entirely unrepentant as he gave Harry a cheeky wink. “Sweet dreams, my dear.”

Harry’s dreams were indeed rather sweet as he soon found himself in Tom’s warm embrace
as their souls mingled.

The next morning, Harry hurried to get ready, wanting to be in the Great Hall as soon as he
could. He was expecting some interesting mail that day. The moment he sat down at the
Slytherin table, an owl swooped down and dropped an envelope in Harry’s lap. Harry
guessed from the size and weight of it that these were his pictures with Tom. He quickly
tucked them away inside his bag before anyone even noticed he’d received something. Next
came Sirius’ tawny owl, carrying a substantial package that obviously had several charms on
it to reduce its weight. Harry also quickly tucked that package into his bag because the last
thing he wanted was for anyone in the Great Hall to realize he’d received books about butt-
sex.
Finally, just as Blaise and Theo sat down on opposite sides of Harry, an owl flew over to drop
the Daily Prophet in Harry’s scrambled eggs. Honestly, those post owls delivering papers
were always the most careless ones of all. Sighing, Harry picked up his paper and cleaned it
with a quick spell.

Draco, who’d taken it as a personal challenge to say as little as possible ever since Harry had
cursed him, had already received his own paper. His gaze moved across the front page before
he looked up at Harry with disbelieving eyes. “Would you really want custody to go to Sirius
Black? That man has always been completely out of whack.”

Harry unfolded the paper in his hands as quickly as he could, almost ripping the front page in
his urgency to see what was printed about him now.

UNSTABLE FORMER INMATE SIRIUS BLACK APPLIES FOR CUSTODY OF BOY WHO
LIVED

Harry didn’t even need to see the name below that title to know who’d written it. How the
hell had she even found out about it? And this soon? No matter. Harry was going to kill Rita
Skeeter, he really was.
 Chapter 55
Chapter Summary

Harry worries about the upcoming custody battle, Tom has a rather unexpected solution,
Sirius teaches his first class and Harry does something very impulsive while he gets in
touch with his darker side.

Chapter Notes

Yes, finally an update. This story is far from abandoned, don't worry. Updates are just
going to be sporadic, as they've always been. Sorry, not sorry.

Thank you so very much for your support over the years. Let me know what you think!
Your comments keep me determined to see this story through, no matter how epic it has
become.

Chapter 55

Since it was Wednesday, they only had two classes in the morning, Herbology and Charms.
They had the afternoon off, though they did have Astronomy at midnight, but that was still
very far off as Harry tried to keep his mind from wandering too far off while he attended
classes. But he couldn’t help the anxiety that blossomed in his chest and grew at steady
intervals with each worrying thought Harry had about the upcoming custody battle.

Because thanks to Rita Skeeter, Harry was now sure it was going to be a battle.

Tom had already warned Harry that the Wizengamot might not automatically grand custody
to Sirius, since he was a single man with some mental health issues thanks to spending a
decade amongst dementors. Still, if Sirius had been the only one applying for custody, the
Wizengamot might have eventually gone along with his application, especially because Sirius
had the solicitor Sybil Post working for him.

But now that Rita Skeeter had let it publicly be known that Harry’s custody was apparently
up for grabs, there was no telling who would apply for it. Anyone technically could apply for
it, for any reason, or none at all. Some might want to genuinely offer poor orphan Harry
Potter a good, loving home, but others would undoubtedly only offer to take Harry in to use
his fame and fortune for their own betterment. And others still might want to get custody of
Harry to try to harm him and make it look like an unfortunate accident.
And of course there was now also the possibility that Dumbledore might actively try to get
his hands on Harry through some light family that followed him blindly. Hell, Dumbledore
might even urge the Weasleys to apply for custody of Harry. Molly and Arthur well and truly
lived in Dumbledore’s pocket and they would follow his lead without question should they
get their hands on Harry.

Yeah, the more Harry thought about it, the more his stomach tied itself up in knots. He was
well and truly fucked.

“You okay?” Theo asked in a whisper as they left the greenhouse and made their way to the
Charms classroom.

Harry shrugged. He wanted to share some of his worries with his friends, but at the same
time he didn’t want to dump all of his problems in the laps of a couple of 11-year-olds. Harry
was technically a grown-up, who should be able to shoulder such burdens better than a bunch
of kids. “Now that Skeeter has let it slip that Sirius has applied for my custody, lots of other
people will probably apply as well, making a huge mess of things.”

“Black is your godfather,” Blaise pointed out while giving Harry a sideways look. “It’s an
honorary title, sure, but your parents still gave it to him and not anyone else.”

Harry nodded. “Sirius has Sybil Post, the solicitor who helped to free him, working the
custody case for him, so he’s got some decent backup. Still, I don’t want complete strangers
fighting over me.”

“Then tell that to the Wizengamot,” Theo said with an optimistic smile. “They always take
the child’s preferences into account as well, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that.” Harry didn’t say anything else because they entered the Charms
classroom and he didn’t want the Gryffindors to overhear his personal problems. Neville gave
Harry a worried look as Harry sat down beside him, but Harry shook his head to indicate that
he wasn’t going to talk about it at that time. Soon, Flitwick started lecturing and Harry used
that time to write a letter to Sirius, bemoaning Rita Skeeter’s inability to keep her nose out of
other people’s business and reminding him that he needed to come to Hogwarts the next day
to teach Harry and his classmates Defence. Harry was sure that McGonagall had also sent
Sirius the correct class schedule along, but Harry wanted to make sure Sirius knew when to
show up. The last thing Harry wanted was to end up back in Moody’s class thanks to an
administrative error.

Right before the end of class, as Harry rolled up the letter, something occurred to him.

Rita Skeeter might try to get into Hogwarts to spy on Harry himself, now that he’d become
the subject of her latest article. Harry knew Skeeter well enough to understand that now that
she’d found an interesting subject, she’d not soon let it go again. Harry knew many more
articles about his custody case would follow in the coming days and weeks. And what better
way for Skeeter to find new things to write about than to spy on Harry Potter himself.

Fuck. Harry’s heart missed a few beats and his skin became instantly cold at the thought of
Skeeter following him down to the Chamber of Secrets when he went there to meet up with
Tom.

Yeah, from that moment on, Harry was keeping the Marauder’s Map opened and activated at
all times, just so he could make sure he wasn’t being followed by a tenacious beetle.

Lunch was a subdued affair, with Harry lost in his own thoughts and his friends leaving him
be. After he’d finished most of his onion soup and croutons with melted cheese, Harry got up
from the table and excused himself.

“I’ll see you in the library later. I’m going to the owlery and get some fresh air.” Harry gave
his friends a quick wave before sauntering out of the Great Hall and up the staircase. The
moment he entered a corridor, he pulled the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket to make sure
he wasn’t being followed. He was taking no chances.

Hedwig was eager enough to take the letter to Sirius and Harry made his way to the seventh
floor afterwards. Hogwarts was happy to see him once Harry entered her heart, flashing
several colourful runes at him.

“Hi,” Harry said while lowering himself to the floor. “I need some time to myself. I hope you
don’t mind.”

Hogwarts answered him with flashing runes in soothing colours and Harry took that to mean
that she was happy to accommodate him.

Harry kept the Marauder’s Map opened at his side, glancing at it every so often, and then he
pulled the parcels out of his bag he’d received during breakfast. He opened the smallest one
first and couldn’t hold back a smile when he saw the pictures of Tom he’d take a few days
earlier. Tom looked so tall and handsome and dignified in the pictures Harry had taken of him
around the Chamber of Secrets. But then Harry came across the photos of them together,
Harry sitting in Tom’s lap, and seeing Tom laughing and kissing Harry made him look like a
different person, far more carefree than Harry was used to seeing him.

It really was a shame Harry couldn’t display any of these pictures on his nightstand. In fact,
now that he thought about it, Harry realized he probably shouldn’t keep these pictures at
Hogwarts at all, not even tucked away in his trunk. What if one of the staff decided to search
his belongings for whatever reason? What if Dumbledore came up with some stupid excuse
to go through Harry’s trunk? Or worse, what if Skeeter snuck into their dormitory and helped
herself to Harry’s things?

With a sigh, Harry tucked the pictures back into the envelope. “Kreacher!”

Kreacher popped into the room in seconds and looked around curiously. “Little Master be
calling Kreacher?”

“There are pictures in this envelope. Please take them to Tom and ask him to keep them
safe.” Harry handed his elf the envelope and smiled at Kreacher right before the elf popped
away again. It seemed silly to return the pictures to Tom right after Tom had sent them to
him, but Harry was taking no chances, especially not now that Skeeter was on the prowl.
The more Harry thought about it, the more he started despising Rita Skeeter. He’d never liked
her, but now she had the ability to really fuck up Harry’s life if she came across the wrong
information about Harry’s past and his current relationships.

Harry opened the package Sirius had sent him next and what he found inside proved a
suitable distraction that kicked Skeeter out of Harry’s mind at once.

Sirius had sent him two books on sex. Gay sex. The kind of sex Harry very soon hoped to be
having with Tom. The Easter holidays were only just over a week and a half away and then
Harry would have ample opportunity to spend some quality time with his soulmate.

The bigger of the books was written in very dry, scientific language that listed many spells
one could use before, during and after sex. It also listed positions and what to do and what
absolutely not to do, all written in the same monotone prose. Harry paged through it and he
vowed to study it closer at some point in the near future, but at that moment his mind wasn’t
capable of absorbing any new spells that sounded downright boring. Which was some sort of
amazing accomplishment when you thought about it, making a book about sex sound
absolutely boring.

The smaller of the books, though, was far more promising. For one, it had pictures.

Explicit pictures. That moved.

And even though Harry’s current body hadn’t even entered puberty yet, things still stirred in
a very enticing way as Harry examined one picture after another.

Yeah, so there were definitely things there that Harry wanted to try out with Tom. Things
they could do with their hands and with their mouths. So far so good.

But there were also pictures of someone pushing their hard cock in someone else’s arse, over
and over again.

Harry frowned as he looked at that picture. It intrigued him, certainly, but only the thought of
having Tom fuck Harry. The idea of Harry having to shove his cock inside Tom’s arse made
him feel surprisingly uncomfortable.

Huh.

That was something to consider, and to discuss with Tom when the time was right. No matter,
now at least Harry was sure there were plenty of things they could do together, as long as
Tom was fine with them as well. Harry closed the book for now. If he spent anymore time
looking at those pictures he’d have a real problem on his hands and the last thing he wanted
to do was make Hogwarts feel uncomfortable because he kept looking at what was essentially
porn while sitting in her heart.

Harry wrapped those books back up in brown paper and shoved them deep inside his bag. He
didn’t want anyone to accidentally glance inside his bookbag and glimpse their subject
matter. Then he thanked Hogwarts for her hospitality and after checking the Map thoroughly
he made his way to the library where his friends were already gathered.
“How awful of that Skeeter woman, that she put your personal business on the front page,”
Daphne said with an annoyed frown. Tracey looked equally as offended on Harry’s behalf.

“How are you?” Susan asked him kindly while Harry sank down in the last available chair.

“Mildly pissed off,” Harry answered honestly, which earned him a few chuckles from his
friends. “But there’s nothing we can do about that now. Let’s talk about other things.”

Thankfully, his friends took the hint and they discussed the essay Snape had assigned them
for their next Potions class instead.

It wasn’t until the early evening, when Harry hid himself away behind the curtains on his
bed, that he brought the subject up again.

“Soulmate!” Harry said, trying to sound chipper when Tom answered his mirror.

Tom looked as though he wasn’t buying Harry’s fake mood for one second. “How did that
blasted witch even find out about your godfather’s custody application? I’ve had Wormtail
snoop around the Ministry, but he’s found nothing.”

Harry deflated somewhat and sagged against his pillows. “Skeeter’s an illegal Animagus.”
When Tom raised both his eyebrows in obvious surprise, Harry added with genuine
amusement, “You didn’t know? Really? She’s a nasty little bug, literally.” Harry held up the
Marauder’s Map that he still kept opened at all times. “I’m expecting her at Hogwarts
sometime soon.”

“Ah.” Tom nodded and then got a thoughtful look on his face. “That certainly explains how
she’s able to sneak around the Ministry and obtain classified information. I’ll double check
the anti-Animagus wards on my property as well and urge Dorus and Lucius to do the same.”

“How are we going to make sure Sirius gets custody of me, though?” Harry asked, that
horrible knot of anxiety appearing in his stomach again. “And not someone else?”

Tom shifted in his seat while giving Harry an almost apologetic look. “I’m not entirely sure if
we can, to be honest.”

“What?” Harry sat up at once, glaring daggers at his soulmate.

“Hear me out,” Tom said quickly, raising a hand to try to calm Harry down. “Even though
Sirius Black was given the honorary title of godfather by your parents, he looks like an unfit
guardian on paper, especially should Dumbledore throw his weight behind a new candidate.
They could easily argue that Black abandoned you once before when he ran after Pettigrew
while you sat injured in your parents’ destroyed home.”

“Fuck,” Harry sighed, rubbing a tired hand down his face. He hadn’t even considered that
angle yet, but Tom made a good point that Dumbledore would certainly have whatever
candidate he selected bring it up in front of the Wizengamot.

“I have asked both Lucius and Dorus to apply for custody of you as well,” Tom said in a
quiet voice, giving Harry a searching look. “You know Dumbledore will try to shoehorn in
someone loyal to him, so we need suitable candidates on our own side.”

“The Notts wouldn’t be so bad, but I really don’t want to live with the Malfoys, though.”
Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to spend his summers listening to Draco
whine about everything and anything.

“Should the Malfoys win custody, you wouldn’t have to actually live with them,” Tom said
with a chuckle, giving Harry a very fond look. “You could spend your time with me, if you
wanted to.”

Harry perked up. That certainly was a welcome option. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Tom didn’t look quite as optimistic as Harry sounded. “The only problem with that is that
Dumbledore’s side will most certainly bring up Lucius and Dorus’ past dealings with
Voldemort.”

“Imperius curse,” Harry pointed out at once with a bit of a grin.

“That will be their defence, naturally, but you and I both know that plenty of Wizengamot
members will see right through that and understand it to be a load of codswallop.” Tom gave
Harry a considerate look as he reached for a cup of tea. “Who do you think Dumbledore will
have apply for your custody?”

“The Weasleys,” Harry said at once, because on paper they made the most sense, at least
from Dumbledore’s perspective.

Tom nodded as he considered that suggestion. “An argument could very easily be made that
you wouldn’t be comfortable living with them after what those bloody twins did to you.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a frown as he thought of other arguments against the Weasleys.
“And they already have seven children. How will they have any time to give an orphaned
child the attention he needs?”

“Another excellent point. Who else might Dumbledore throw into the game?” Tom gave
Harry an expectant look, his head tilted just a bit.

“I’m not sure.” Harry thought back to the Order members he’d known during his previous
life. “Perhaps Andromeda and Ted Tonks? Though I’m not sure how loyal they are to
Dumbledore at this point.”

“Hmm.” Tom looked down, stroking his hand across his chin as he was lost in thought.
“Dumbledore might also apply himself, though that probably wouldn’t work out for him
considering the reprimands he’s already received from the Board of Governors and the
Ministry concerning his interactions with you.”

A shiver ran down Harry’s back at the thought of Dumbledore getting his hands on Harry,
legally speaking.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Tom said once he noticed Harry’s spooked expression. “Should it
come to that, however unlikely it might be, we’ll simply leave Britain until you turn 17. We’ll
travel the world so no one can track us.”

Harry released a deep, relieved sigh. It really made him feel better about this whole mess to
know that Tom was willing to go that far for him, to keep Harry safe and happy. “Yeah, that
would work.”

They chatted for a while longer until Harry had to leave for Astronomy. Afterwards, he went
straight to bed, though sleep wouldn’t come easy. Even though they had an exit plan should
things really go wrong, Harry couldn’t help feel angry and frustrated about the whole
situation. Here was yet another thing that messed up his life.

How naive had he been when he’d first been reborn? Harry had genuinely not expected this
many problems because, after all, he’d already known what the future would bring.

Well, as it turned out, a new future brought with it a whole new set of problems.

Some part of Harry really wanted to ask Tom to run away with him, regardless of the
outcome of this latest kerfuffle. Just travel the world together did sound like an excellent way
to spend a few years, if Harry was being completely honest with himself.

The next morning, right after Harry sat down for breakfast at the Slytherin table, McGonagall
approached him.

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall said as she came to a halt behind him. “I’ve arranged for classroom
six on the third floor to be ready for your group of students who will take Defence Against
the Dark Arts with Sirius Black for the time being.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, giving McGonagall a grateful smile. Around him, Theo, Blaise,
Daphne and Tracey also looked relieved at hearing that news.

McGonagall turned her attention to Draco. “Mr Malfoy, have your parents been able to find a
tutor for you?”

Draco shook his head. “No, not yet, which is problematic because Moody poses a very real
threat.”

McGonagall blinked a few times while she pursed her lips. “Then perhaps for the time being
you can join Mr Potter’s group, who will be studying with Sirius Black.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said with a firm nod, because while he may not like Draco very much, he
also didn’t want to force Draco into Moody’s path if he could help it.

“Thank you, I suppose,” Draco drawled with a bit of a sniff. “Even though you are at fault for
my restricted prose.”

Harry quickly reached for his tea and sipped it so he wouldn’t laugh in Draco’s face. Still,
that silly rhyming curse did keep paying off, much to Harry’s amusement. That amusement
quickly disappeared when an owl dropped the Daily Prophet in front of Harry. While taking a
generous bite of his slice of toast, Harry flipped the paper open and quickly glanced across
the front page.
Near the bottom, Skeeter had written another article about Harry and his upcoming custody
case, this time slinging metaphorical mud at anyone who had left their precious Boy Who
Lived in the dubious care of muggles in the first place. She ended the article with a
conclusion that Harry desperately needed to find a suitable magical family who would take
him in.

Fucking hell. If yesterday’s article hadn’t already given plenty of people the idea to apply for
custody of Harry Potter, that morning’s article certainly would have. Harry was now
absolutely convinced that half the wizarding world would be joining in the fun of trying to
get their paws on Harry Potter.

Harry barely managed the finish his slice of toast as he contemplated simply packing up his
belongings, have Kreacher pop him to Tom’s home and beg his soulmate to run away with
him at once. Perhaps that was a bit of a dramatic overreaction, but Harry sincerely didn’t
want to become the subject of a legal battle that might end really badly for him.

Then again, Sirius was coming to Hogwarts on Harry’s behest, so Harry knew that his plans
to run away needed to be shelved, at least for that morning. Harry was far too grateful for
Sirius stepping up like he was to dismiss his godfather’s efforts by not showing up.

When it was time to head to class, every single one of the Slytherin first years followed Harry
towards the third floor. Neville came puffing after them, the only Gryffindor not comfortable
sitting through another class taught by Moody.

Sirius was already waiting for them in the classroom, casually leaning against the desk while
he gestured at them to find seats. He was dressed in blue jeans and a red shirt with some
faded band name on it, with open black robes bearing the Gryffindor crest.

Harry sat down beside Neville at one of the desks near the front of the class, giving his
godfather a grateful smile.

“Welcome,” Sirius said, flicking his wand to close the door after everyone found seats. “I’ll
be your defence instructor for the time being, until Quirrell wakes up from his sleeping curse.
I haven’t had time yet to read your textbook or to study the official curriculum, but I’m sure
there’s a few things I can teach you that will come in handy.” And with that, Sirius waved his
wand around without saying a word.

At once a hideous odour spread around the room which reminded Harry strongly of rotten
eggs. Students all around the room started coughing and covering their noses and mouths
with their sleeves.

Sirius barked a laugh and waved his wand again, this time to get rid of the noxious smell.
“That was a sulfuric hex. It has a similar effect as a stink bomb, in that it will clear a room in
seconds. The advantage of it is that it’s free. No need to give your entire allowance to
Zonko’s simply to create some chaos.”

“It seems a bit childish,” Parkinson muttered while she kept wiping at her eyes and nose.
“Maybe it does,” Sirius said, not at all put out by Parkinson’s response. “Yet it can also come
in handy as a distraction should you ever find yourself surrounded by enemies. If people are
too busy trying not to throw up they won’t have time to curse you.”

Harry nodded in understanding, thinking that Sirius made a fairly good point. He knew well
from his previous life that plenty of the twins’ prank inventions had helped them during the
war in all manner of serious situations.

“Grab some parchment to write down the incantation,” Sirius said, turning towards the
blackboard so he could write out the sulfuric hex. After that, Sirius demonstrated another two
hexes, one that instantly turned off any lights in a room, and one that created a sticky patch
on the floor, making it hard for anyone to walk across. Both were good hexes to know if one
had to get away from a dangerous opponent.

Sirius had them practice the hexes diligently, and while they were quite advanced for a group
of first years, everyone managed at least one of them by the end of their double class.

“Homework is practicing the hexes over the weekend,” Sirius said just as the bell rang. “I
expect you all to be able to cast them during our class on Monday.”

Harry gave Sirius a thumb’s up as he left the classroom, which made Sirius grin at him in
return. He’d call his godfather later that day on their mirror to let him know how much he
enjoyed the class, mostly because Harry didn’t know those hexes yet so he genuinely had
something new to learn, which was a bit of a novelty those days.

“That was a great class,” Neville said with a beaming smile. Ever since McGonagall had
taken him to Ollivander’s for his own wand, Neville had no problems casting anymore, as
Harry knew would happen.

“Not quite as exciting as I’d expected a class taught by a Black to be,” Blaise drawled,
though he gave Harry a teasing wink as he spoke. “But certainly not bad.”

“Better than Moody, that’s for sure,” Theo muttered with a dark look. Theo had seemed a bit
on edge ever since Moody had cursed Draco for being a Death Eater’s son, as though he
worried Moody might appear from around any random corner to curse Theo as well.

Harry was quite sure Moody wouldn’t be that stupid, to go around cursing students in the
hallway because he felt like it. Then again, when Barty as Moody had turned Draco into a
ferret, no one had thought it out of character for the famed Auror. So who knew…perhaps
Harry should keep an extra eye out for Moody on the Marauder’s Map as well, alongside
Skeeter.

After lunch they had History and double Transfiguration, which flew by.

“How was it?” Hannah demanded when they joined their Hufflepuff friends in the library. “I
wish we could be taught by Sirius Black as well, instead of that scary Auror.”

For a moment, Susan didn’t seem to know if she should be insulted or not as she stared at
Hannah with wide eyes.
“You could request a tutor as well, if you don’t feel safe in a classroom with Moody,” Tracey
pointed out as she pulled a few books from her bag. “Maybe Black wouldn’t mind teaching
your class as well.”

Harry considered that. Sirius certainly had seemed to have had a good enough time teaching a
bunch of kids a couple of interesting hexes, no matter that all but one had been Slytherins.
But before he could reply, Susan spoke up.

“Moody hasn’t actually hurt anyone in our class, Hannah.” Susan definitely sounded a bit put
out, which Harry could understand. Susan must be feeling very conflicted about a wizard
she’d probably known her entire life harming children she knew.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Hannah said with a deep, disappointed sigh, smacking a roll of parchment
down on the table.

Tracey and Daphne then gave a detailed account of their class taught by the infamous Sirius
Black, which seemed to appease Hannah at least a little bit.

That evening, Harry called Sirius first once he was tucked into bed.

“It was a great class,” Harry told his godfather, meaning every word. Seeing as Sirius had
needed to put a double class together in a manner of days, he’d really done pretty well.

“Yeah? Glad to hear it.” Sirius’s bright smile dimmed a bit as he shook his head. “Sybil sent
me a note this evening that more people have come forward to claim custody of you.”

“As expected,” Harry sighed, suddenly feeling bone-tired.

“They should appear in the Prophet tomorrow morning,” Sirius said and then visibly squared
his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m your godfather, Harry. Your parents wanted me
to take care of you. That should count for something in front of those old wankers at the
Ministry.”

Harry wanted to feel as optimistic as Sirius was trying to appear, but he just wasn’t feeling it.
“And my parents never made a will, that you know of?”

Sirius shook his head. “They never mentioned anything like that to me. They must have
thought they had plenty of time for such things, after they were safely tucked away behind
the Fidelius charm.”

“Well, we’ll just have to convince the Wizengamot ourselves then,” Harry said, not wanting
to burst Sirius’ bubble, as it was clear his godfather wasn’t nearly as worried as Harry was.

“We’ll fight,” Sirius said, chest puffed out. “We’re Gryffindors, after all, even if you’re
pretending to be a snake these days.”

Harry snorted and said goodbye to his godfather before calling his soulmate. Tom had
apparently had a long day of ward renewals and seemed rather tired, so Harry kept their chat
short, only informing him of what he’d learned about his custody case.
“Don’t despair, Harry,” Tom said, clearly picking up on Harry’s souring mood. “Chances are
custody will go to someone in our corner and you’ll be fine.”

Harry really, really wanted to believe that, but his heart just wasn’t into it.

The next morning, Harry was grateful that they only had double Potions that day because he
was full of fluttering nerves. He managed to eat some scrambled eggs while he waited
anxiously for the newspaper to arrive.

Harry all but ripped the Daily Prophet out of the poor owl’s talons and opened it at record
speed. Skeeter had written a huge article in the middle of the front page that included a list of
all the people that had applied for custody of Harry.

It was a lot longer than Harry had anticipated. The Weasleys were on it, as expected, as were
the Malfoys and Theodorus Nott. Harry also saw the Tonks’ and the Diggory family. Other
names he recognized were Rowle and Yaxley, which what the fuck? Tom would need to have
a very firm talk with them, if they weren’t acting on Tom’s orders in the first place. There
were names Harry had definitely heard of, like Ogden and Fortescue. And then there were a
whole list of names that meant very little to him, like Applecreek and Willenbough.

Fuck, this really was a nightmare. It absolutely seemed that half the wizarding world had
actually applied for custody of him, which would only bury Sirius’ very valid claim on his
godson. Harry really hoped that Sybil Post had a proper strategy to deal with this whole mess,
because Harry was honestly at a loss of where to even get started.

Harry was thoroughly distracted during Potions, but thankfully Neville and Millie seemed
more than happy to give him some slack and simply let Harry chop ingredients while they did
the actual brewing. In the end they still had a pretty decent potion, and that’s all that
mattered.

They gathered in the library again, where more than one of this friends bombarded him with
questions about the custody article and how Harry felt about all the candidates. Harry was
about to open his mouth when he noticed some slight movement from the corner of his eye.
He turned to look at it and his breath caught in his throat when he spotted a beetle crawling
up the spine of a book on a nearby bookshelf.

Gotcha.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, jumping up from his seat. “I just remembered that I needed to discuss
something very important with Snape. Right now.”

“Huh?” Theo looked at Harry as though he’d lost his mind.

“Doesn’t Snape have class now?” Blaise asked while he gave Harry a dubious look.

“Doesn’t matter. Have to run. Be right back.” Harry ducked his head and glanced to the side.
The beetle took flight, just as Harry hoped it would, and it landed on the back of Harry’s
shoulder, clearly wanting to tag along to see what sort of important things Harry had to
urgently discuss with his Head of House.
Harry walked through the corridors and down the stairs at a clipped pace, making his way
steadily towards the dungeons, Skeeter still sticking to his back. The thing was, Harry wasn’t
actually sure what he wanted to do with Skeeter. Once upon a time, Hermione had
imprisoned her for a few months before blackmailing her with her illegal Animagus form.
That had worked for a while, but eventually Skeeter had gone back to her old ways. She’d
not stopped writing about Harry for one single day once the war had been won. She’d been
the main author of all the silly stories about Harry’s many assumed romances while in fact he
was laying low at Hogwarts and helping to rebuild the castle.

Yeah, Harry knew that blackmailing Skeeter was not a real option to stop her and her
venomous quill. She would never stop writing about Harry Potter altogether, since Harry
made for far too much of a profitable target.

Tom had pointed this out to Harry more than once already, that even though Harry liked to
forget about his fame, the wizarding world as a whole loved the whole idea of the Boy Who
Lived, and Skeeter would never leave Harry alone because of that. Hell, look at how she’d
messed up Sirius’ chances of getting custody of Harry because she couldn’t even control
herself when it came to the life of an eleven-year-old orphan in desperate need of a guardian
in the wizarding world.

And nowadays Harry had so many secrets to protect. The thought of Skeeter spying on him at
the wrong time, when he was talking about his past life with Tom or Barty for example, made
him physically ill. He’d barely been able to eat half a meal ever since Skeeter’s first article
some days ago, his stomach now permanently tied into nervous knots.

The deeper Harry descended into the dungeons, the darker his thoughts became. There was
really only one way of permanently dealing with Skeeter. Harry could easily catch Skeeter in
a jar and send her along to Tom to see the deed done.

But Harry didn’t want to use his soulmate to do his dirty work for him. Harry was a big boy,
who could take care of his own problems.

And Skeeter was nothing more than a disgusting little bug. It would hardly take any effort to
get rid of her. Even Harry in his eleven-year-old body could do it.

Before he could change his mind, Harry yanked open the door to an empty room deep inside
the dungeons where no one hardly ever went. There were no portraits here to witness what
Harry was about to do.

Without pause, Harry stepped inside the dark room and flicked the bug off his shoulder with a
single swipe. Skeeter landed on the stone floor with a faint buzz but before she could spread
her wings and fly off, Harry stepped on top of her, her small body crunching beneath his
shoe.

Yeah, that really had been too easy.

Except then Skeeter’s mangled body exploded into being beneath Harry’s shoe, almost
knocking him backwards onto his arse. Harry barely managed to keep his balance as he
stared in horror at the human form of Rita Skeeter, which looked as though she’d been
crushed beneath several very heavy boulders the size of small cars.

Fuck. Harry had just killed a human being and her body was lying right there in front of him,
her skull caved in, her limbs broken with sharp bones protruding her flesh.

Before he could think or do anything else, Harry turned on his heels, slammed the door to the
dark room shut and ran as fast as he could out of the dungeons.
 Chapter 56
Chapter Summary

Harry deals with a dead bug, evades his friends' questions and meets with Tom, which
has unexpected consequences.

Chapter Notes

Yes, you get the next chapter right away. What can I say? I was inspired and couldn't
resist writing the next part straight away. You're welcome, lol.

Thanks so much for your patience and your support. I'm so grateful and humbled to see
so many of you enjoying this story. Let me know what you think! Your feedback always
helps me come up with new things to add to the story.

Chapter 56

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Harry knew he was panicking and he also knew that the last thing he should be doing was
panicking and that if he didn’t get himself under control anytime soon he might just make
matters much worse than they already were.

Fuck.

He couldn’t leave Skeeter’s body out in the open like that, for someone to discover. But what
the hell was he supposed to do with a mangled corpse?

Harry could honestly say he’d never before given any thought to how to get rid of a body at
Hogwarts. This was uncharted territory for him.

But not for Tom.

Harry slowed down and inhaled a few deep breaths, trying to get his erratic heartbeat under
control. He stopped and leaned a hand against the wall around the corner from the entrance to
the Slytherin common room. His soulmate had committed murder when he was even younger
than Harry, and he’d gotten away with it. If anyone knew what to do with an unwelcome dead
body, it was Tom Riddle.

Reaching for his bookbag, Harry meant to grab his mirror that he used to speak to Tom. But
there was no bookbag hanging off his shoulder, and thus there was no mirror to use.

Slowly closing his eyes, Harry released a shuddering breath. He’d left his bookbag in the
library, with the mirror inside of it. And the Marauder’s Map. And his invisibility cloak.
Which meant that at that moment, he was completely flying blind.

Think. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could. Don’t panic, but think. Yes, he
might just be the world’s most impulsive fool, but he was also a Slytherin those days. He
could be cunning if he put his mind to it.

There were several possible scenarios Harry could go with. The first one was the simplest
one, with the most dire consequences if it went wrong. Harry could alert a teacher, perhaps
Snape, that he’d stepped on a bug and much to his horror, that bug had turned into a dead
woman. Which was the truth, after a fashion. No one would be able to prove that Harry had
known all along who that particular bug truly was.

Unless they used Veritaserum on him. Then Harry would be shit out of luck. Did they use
Veritaserum on children? Was that even allowed? And even if it wasn’t, Harry knew all too
well that the Ministry had no problems ignoring its own rules when it was advantageous for
them.

So confessing the truth was out, because there was a very real risk that the Ministry would try
to screw Harry over.

There was also the possibility of leaving Skeeter’s corpse where it was. Hardly anyone ever
went down that far into the dungeons, so it might be a while before it was found. Then again,
a body would start to decompose sooner rather than later, which would cause a noticeable
stench, Harry was sure. Someone would notice it, perhaps a diligent house-elf cleaning the
corridors, and the body would be discovered before long.

And Harry didn’t want the body to be discovered, least of all at Hogwarts.

There were magical ways to get rid of a dead body, Harry remembered that much from his
previous life. In his fourth year, Barty as Moody had transfigured his father’s corpse into a
bone and buried it in the Forbidden Forest. No one had ever found it, as far as Harry knew,
and the truth had only come out when Barty had confessed to it while he was under the
effects of Veritaserum.

Transfiguring the corpse and smuggling it out of Hogwarts was a viable option. Of course,
Harry had never transfigured an entire human being before, but how hard could it be?

No matter what decision Harry made, he’d better make it fast because Alastor Moody and his
magical eye that could see through walls was currently teaching a class inside the castle. And
Harry really didn’t want that bastard to see Harry mess with a corpse.
As Harry quickly made his way back to the dark room where he’d left Skeeter, Harry also
realized that he couldn’t yet get rid of the body entirely. His friends were waiting for him in
the library and if he stayed away for too long, they’d get truly worried. Harry could get away
with disappearing for half an hour or so without his friends asking questions. But if he made
an excursion into the Forbidden Forest when he’d already been missing for twenty minutes,
his friends would notice and ask difficult questions.

Yeah, Harry was much better off transfiguring Skeeter’s corpse and keeping it safe until he
could sneak into the Forbidden Forest later that afternoon, perhaps an hour before dinner
under the guise of needing a bit of fresh air.

And once Skeeter’s corpse was hidden in the forest, no one could prove what had happened
to her. No body, no crime. And no crime meant that Harry could never become a murder
suspect.

Harry pushed the door open and slipped inside the dark room, his stomach rolling at the sight
of Skeeter’s mangled corpse. Fuck, she really looked like she’d been pushed through the
wringer. Harry swallowed a few times, to get rid of the bile that rose up, and he aimed his
wand at Skeeter’s remains. He didn’t know a spell to turn a dead body into a bug, but magic
worked in intent, especially transfiguration.

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry focused all his intent on turning Skeeter back into a bug and
pushed his magic through his wand. Skeeter’s broken corpse started convulsing and shrinking
until a squashed bug was all that remained. It looked a lot like Skeeter’s Animagus form, but
Harry didn’t want to examine it too closely to spot any potential differences. Harry leaned
forward, swallowed down some more bile, and picked up the dead bug with a trembling
hand. He slipped it inside the pocket of his robes and quickly brushed invisible dirt off his
body.

He needed to get rid of the rest of the evidence as well, since Skeeter had left blood behind
on the stone floor. Perhaps bits of brain or flesh as well. Harry quickly cast the strongest
cleaning charms he knew around the whole room until it was as clean as he could possible
make it. Then he did the same on his clothes, just to make sure none of Skeeter’s blood
remained on his trousers or shoes.

That was all he could do for now, until he could sneak away to bury Skeeter’s bug body.

Without making a sound, Harry slipped back out of the room, looked around a few times to
make sure he was really alone, and then he strolled back as casually as he could. Running
would only make him look guilty of something.

Just as Harry got close to the Slytherin common room, a couple of sixth year Slytherins
passed him as they walked in the direction of the abandoned part of the dungeon Harry had
just left. The girl and boy only had eyes for each other and didn’t even seem to notice Harry.
They were probably looking for some privacy so they could have a good snog, or perhaps
even more than that. Still, Harry didn’t want anyone stumbling across the crime scene, just in
case he’d missed something. Silently thanking his godfather, Harry slipped his wand out and
quietly cast the Sulfuric Hex in the direction of the couple. He sped up a bit and rounded a
corner just as he heard the couple start coughing and swearing. That should keep anyone out
for at least the rest of the day.

It took Harry ten minutes to make his way back to the library and all the while he was very
aware that he was essentially walking around with a dead body in his pocket. He sincerely
and desperately hoped his magic wouldn’t fail him and Skeeter’s body wouldn’t
spontaneously transfigure back to its original form.

Of course, if that happened, Harry would simply say he’d stepped on a bug and picked it up
to throw it away later. And oops, the bug turned into a dead woman, how did that happen?
Still, Harry would much rather avoid such a scenario if he could help it.

“Everything okay?” Neville asked as Harry slid into the seat beside him.

“Sure,” Harry said, his voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat and gave Neville his most
reassuring smile. “Just some legal stuff I had to take care of for the custody thing.” Harry did
his very best to keep his expression as neutral as he could while he was suddenly hit with the
realization that he’d just committed a murder.

He’d just killed someone. A nasty, vile witch, but still, she’d been a living, breathing human
being, and Harry had killed her.

He hadn’t meant to. No, that was a lie, Harry knew that much. He had meant to kill her, to get
rid of her permanently. He just hadn’t considered any of the consequences that came with
premeditated murder.

“Yeah,” Neville said with a sigh as he shook his head. “I can’t imagine how you must be
feeling, knowing all those people are wanting to control you in some way.”

“Nervous,” Harry said and he didn’t even have to lie. He was sitting amongst his young
friends with a transfigured dead body in his pocket. He was feeling very nervous indeed.
“And angry.” Also not a lie. Harry had been beyond pissed off at Skeeter and that fury, that
rage, was what kept him from feeling too guilty about having ended Skeeter’s life. Harry
wasn’t happy with himself for what he’d done, but he also wasn’t exactly buried beneath an
onslaught of crippling guilt.

“It seems odd that anyone can simply apply for custody of a child,” Ernie mused as he gave
Harry a contemplative look. “Even if they have no connection whatsoever to that child.”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed with a solemn nod. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works in the
muggle world. Orphans can be placed with strangers, but those foster families are thoroughly
checked beforehand to see if they’re suitable at all to raise a child.”

Harry nodded in agreement, even if he knew very little about the foster system. Until Tom
had set him straight not that long ago, Harry had been convinced that orphanages were still a
thing.

“I can’t imagine the Wizengamot would go along with all those frivolous custody
applications,” Daphne said, narrowing her eyes at Justin.
“That depends on the amount of gold any of them will offer Fudge,” Blaise said as he leaned
back in his seat.

Normally, Harry would have gladly engaged his friends in a lively discussion about the
Ministry and its many failings, but at that moment he couldn’t stop thinking about the dead
body in his pocket.

“Are we making you uncomfortable, Harry?” Susan asked with a worried frown.

Shrugging, Harry made a production of getting his homework from his bag and spreading it
out in front of him. “It’s fine. It’s all just still a lot to take in. I guess I need a few days to
process it all.”

“Of course,” Susan said and gestured at the rest of the kids around them. “Let’s talk about
something else for now.”

Harry managed to write an essay for Transfiguration but he had no idea if it was any good or
not, because most of his mind was constantly focused on the fact that he had a dead body in
his pocket.

After he checked his watch for the umpteenth time and saw it was about an hour before
dinner, Harry started putting his books and parchment away. “I’m going to get some fresh air,
clear my head a bit.”

“That’s a great idea,” Hannah said and she immediately started packing up her own
homework.

“Er…” Harry stared at Hannah with wide eyes, seeing his carefully constructed plan go up in
flames before him.

“I think Harry wants to be alone,” Theo said with a knowing look. He’d been quiet for most
of the afternoon, but Harry was sure that Theo understood far more about Harry’s behaviour
than the rest of his friends. Theo was always observant that way.

“Oh.” Hannah stopped shoving her Herbology book inside her bag and looked between Theo
and Harry.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Harry gave Hannah an apologetic smile and quickly got up before anyone
else could get the idea to follow him. “Some alone time is welcome right about now. Too
much on my mind.”

“See you at dinner,” Theo said with a resolute nod before he gestured at Harry to leave
already.

Harry quickly did and once he was well away from the library he ducked behind one of the
larger tapestries, where he knew a small alcove was hidden. He pulled out the Marauder’s
Map and made sure Moody wasn’t anywhere nearby. When he realized the coast was clear,
Harry wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself and hurried out of the castle. He kept
hidden beneath his cloak all the way across the grounds. Even once he entered the forest he
kept himself hidden away. Just in case Skeeter’s transfigured body was ever discovered,
Harry wanted to make sure no one had seen him enter or exit the forest.

Trudging along one of the smaller paths, Harry walked deeper inside the forest until he came
across a patch of trees that were smothered by brambles on the ground. Harry slipped his
wand from his pocket and created a narrow opening beneath the thorny vines. Then he
magically dug a small but deep hole and levitated Skeeter’s remains inside of it. He covered
the hole back up and quickly left the area, certain that no one had seen him.

Harry made it back to the castle for dinner with time to spare. His steps felt noticeably lighter
as he crossed the grounds again. He’d just successfully gotten rid of a dead body and he had
Barty to thank for it. Well, a previous version of Barty. The current one was none the wiser.

As Harry sat down at the Slytherin table to wait for dinner to start, he heaved a deep, satisfied
sigh.

Yeah, he’d just committed murder that day and a large part of him still wasn’t sure how he
felt about that. But a larger part still was utterly relieved that Rita Skeeter would never write
another word about him or his loved ones. That her poisonous quill would never mess up
Harry’s life again.

Was this why Tom had committed murders so eagerly once upon a time? Because it was a
very efficient way of dealing with all the crap in your life? Harry had to admit that he finally
started to understand Tom’s motives a bit better.

It had just been all so… easy.

Well, if you forgot about the surprise human remains, the crushed skull, all the blood and the
panic he’d felt when first dealing with the situation. But now that the whole ordeal was
behind him, Harry couldn’t help but conclude that murder was a lot less worrisome than
Harry had always assumed it would be. Not that Harry had contemplated murder all that
often in the past, because he hadn’t.

He’d daydreamed a time or two about finding horribly painful ways to get rid of Umbridge in
his previous life, but that was it. In this life, Tom had dealt with her, by using her to murder
Harry’s would-be-rapist witch. And Harry now understood a bit better why Tom had taken
such drastic actions.

It was such an easy, convenient way to ensure people never hurt you again.

Harry’s mind was still full of conflicting thoughts by the time his friends joined him just in
time for dinner, though the nervous knot in his stomach was noticeably absent for the first
time in days. Harry filled his plate with a generous serving of rice and curry and ate it all in
record time. He really hadn’t been eating enough ever since Skeeter’s first article.

Draco spent most of dinner glaring at Harry, though he never said a word. Harry raised an
eyebrow as he stared back, silently asking Draco what was wrong.
“Potter, I just want you to be aware,” Draco finally said when he obviously couldn’t control
himself anymore. “That my parents are mine. I do not share.”

“Ah.” Harry nodded in understanding. Draco the spoiled only child was worried his parents
might actually get custody of Harry Potter and Draco would have to share with a pseudo-
sibling from then on. “Don’t worry. I doubt your parents will win custody of me.”

“Good, that is what I hope as well,” Draco said and then scrunched up his entire face in
obvious annoyance. “How much longer before I’m rid of this ridiculous spell?”

Harry chuckled, while beside him Blaise and Theo did the same. “A few more days
probably.”

“That is entirely unfair,” Draco grumbled, viciously stabbing his pear cake with a fork. “Not
that you would care.”

Theo and Blaise gave Harry a few pointed looks but they didn’t have time to ask any discreet
questions about Harry’s absence, because right after dinner they had their House meeting, and
immediately following that it was time for their weekly Culture Club meeting.

Several of the children assembled in the Club House gave Harry curious looks, obviously
wanting to ask him questions about the whole custody debacle. But Harry’s friends kept
glaring at all those who looked like they might open their mouths, so in the end Harry was
spared having to give his opinions on his private life to a bunch of eleven-year-olds. Instead
he put everyone to work making Easter and Ostara decorations because the holidays were
only just over a week away. Kreacher provided them with a huge basket of hardboiled eggs
and they all enjoyed painting them with all sorts of colourful patterns. Eventually they
engaged in an impromptu competition of who could paint the most realistic House crest on
their egg. Padma won with a very detailed painting of an eagle on a blue and bronze
background.

“I have something to take care of,” Harry whispered to Theo and Blaise once their meeting
was over. “I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up for me.”

Blaise frowned a bit, looking as though he was considering commenting on that but in the
end he simply shrugged. Theo just nodded and together they left the Club House with the
other students until only Harry remained.

Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag and examined the Marauder’s Map. The coast
was clear to the second floor bathroom, since Moody was gathered with a few other teachers
in the staff room. Dumbledore was in his office and only a handful of students were
wandering around the corridors. Thankfully the trip to Myrtle’s bathroom was short and
before long Harry mounted his broom and flew down to the Chamber of Secrets.

He really needed to talk to Tom. He also really needed a hug. And some kisses. That’s why
the first thing Harry did when he entered the Chamber was grab an aging potion. Tom
wouldn’t want to touch him when he was still in his eleven-year-old body, so Harry gladly
underwent the discomfort of growing a foot in no time at all. He got dressed in some of the
adult-sized clothes he kept there and then he flopped down in one of the comfortable chairs.
“Tom,” Harry said to his soulmate’s surprised face when he answered the mirror. “Can you
meet me in the Chamber right now?”

“Of course.” Tom closed the mirror and seconds later he apparated straight into the Chamber
with a quiet crack. He was wearing his striped pyjamas with a dark blue dressing gown and
black slippers. It wasn’t even that late yet, but then again, Tom didn’t exactly have an
exciting social life outside of working with Barty and chatting with Harry.

“I need a hug,” Harry said as he jumped up from his chair and threw his arms around Tom,
who eagerly wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist in response.

“What happened?” Tom whispered in the crook of Harry’s neck as he held him tightly against
his body. “Does it have anything to do with that article by that horrid witch in the Prophet this
morning?”

“I suppose,” Harry mumbled, unable to meet Tom’s eyes for some reason. How silly was
that? If there was one person in the whole world who wouldn’t judge Harry for what he’d
done, it was Tom Riddle, and yet Harry still felt absolutely terrified to confess to what he’d
done in front of his soulmate.

“Darling, what happened?” Tom asked again, this time pulling back a bit from the hug so he
could look at Harry’s face. Still, Harry kept evading his gaze. “Was it Dumbledore? Or
Moody? Did Severus do something?”

“No.” Fucking hell, why was this so difficult? The deed was already done. Skeeter was
already dead and buried. Then why was it so hard for Harry to actually say it out loud?
“Skeeter came to spy on me. As a bug.”

“Ah.” Tom’s brows furrowed down in a concerned frown. “Did she overhear something she
shouldn’t have? Do you need me to track her down and obliviate her?”

Before he could stop it, a rather hysterical string of giggles escaped Harry. How sweet of
Tom, to suggest simply obliviating Skeeter when Harry had literally crushed her beneath his
shoe. “She didn’t overhear anything,” Harry finally said after he’d calmed down a bit. “I
stepped on her,” he added in barely a whisper.

“You what?” Tom had to pull back even more so he could bend down and look at Harry’s
face, though Harry still kept averting his eyes.

“I stepped on her when she was a bug. Then she turned human again. No one saw.” Harry
took a few steps away from Tom, releasing him from their embrace.

“Where is she now?” Tom asked slowly, carefully, his face becoming unreadable.

“I turned her back into a bug and buried her in the Forbidden Forest.” Harry shrugged, unsure
what else to do. His entire body was full of conflicting emotions. There was pride and shame,
anger and hope, giddiness and revulsion. But most of all, there was a deep and desperate need
for Tom to be pleased with him right at that moment.
“Oh, Harry, my dear.” Tom shook his head, expression strangely blank as he stared down at
Harry with eyes that gave nothing away. “Why didn’t you call me? This shouldn’t have
happened.”

“What?” Harry blinked up at Tom in confusion. Why the hell would Tom say something like
that? “So it’s okay for you to kill whoever you like, for no reason at all, but when I do away
with someone who’s ruining my fucking life suddenly it shouldn’t have happened?” Harry’s
nostrils flared as rage erupted in his chest at Tom’s clear dismissal of Harry’s actions.

Tom’s face closed off at once as his lips thinned. “That is not what I said.”

“What the fuck do you mean? That’s exactly what you said! That it shouldn’t have
happened!” Harry hand itched to reach for his wand and hex Tom’s stupid face until he
resembled a sea cucumber. “Well, fuck you, Tom Riddle. I’m not putting up with this kind of
hypocrisy.”

“I merely wanted to spare you this experience,” Tom said, his voice decidedly frosty as he
crossed his arms.

Harry turned on his feet and marched towards the Chamber’s door. His chest was burning
with anger and rejection. “I can’t fucking believe that you of all people would tell me off
about getting rid of an enemy,” he muttered, unsure even now what Tom meant to say
exactly. No matter, because the words Tom had used hurt Harry more than any had ever done
before.

“Stop!” Tom’s voice echoed around the Chamber. “Harry, do not walk away right now. Not
until we resolve this.”

Harry stopped and whipped around, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Tom. “There is
nothing to resolve! Clearly you’ve got no problems being a killer, but you do have problems
dating one!”

Before Harry knew what happened, Tom was standing right in front of him. The bastard had
apparated across the Chamber. Tom put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and gave him a hard
shove so he stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall.

Tom’s eyes burned with something Harry couldn’t quiet identify and his lips pulled back
from his teeth in a wicked smile. “You truly believe I have problems dating a killer, my dear?
The only problem I have right now is trying desperately not to rip your clothes off and fuck
you raw right here and now.” Tom brushed his lips across Harry’s and then followed the same
path with his tongue. “You have no idea how much the idea of you killing someone turns me
on.”

Harry gulped as he stood frozen against Tom’s solid body, unable to move even an inch as
Tom kept him pressed against the wall. Tom leaned back the tiniest bit and pulled his
dressing down open before he pressed his groin against Harry’s body. Oh yeah, Harry could
feel the evidence of Tom’s arousal perfectly now. Instantly, Harry’s own body responded and
all of Harry’s earlier anger and hurt was replaced with a desperate need to feel more of Tom.
Harry pressed his own erection against Tom’s body in return and tried to pull Tom’s head
down for a needy kiss.

“Harry.” Tom’s voice was rough and hoarse as he resisted Harry’s grip. “If you don’t stop
right now, I won’t be able to.”

“Don’t care.” Harry yanked Tom’s head down and crushed his lips against Tom’s while he
rutted against Tom’s body, his hard cock finding plenty of friction. Tom responded instantly,
weaving one hand in Harry’s long hair, pulling it loose from its ponytail. Tom’s other hand
cupped Harry’s arse to pull him closer still while they thrust their hips together. Their kiss
was messy and unforgiving, an unrelenting mix of teeth and tongue.

Harry groaned as the pleasure in his body started building but he couldn’t quite get enough
friction and his climax was tantalizingly close yet too far away. “Fuck,” Harry moaned, trying
to press even closer against Tom. “Almost, fuck, almost.”

Tom seemed to understand Harry’s frustration because he released Harry’s arse and yanked
open his trousers instead. Before Harry even knew what was happening, Tom wrapped his
long fingers around Harry’s hard cock. But there was another cock there and it took Harry a
moment to understand that Tom was stroking both his own and Harry’s cock at the same
time. Harry’s cock was sliding and riding against Tom’s cock and it was the best fucking
thing Harry had ever felt.

His climax crashed over him and he completely lost the rhythm of his thrusts as he spurted
his release all over Tom’s hand. “Fucking hell,” Harry breathed, just as Tom groaned and
briefly tightened his fingers around both their cocks as he came as well.

They stood panting for a long time, leaning against each other while their cocks softened
between them.

“So,” Harry eventually said because the heavy silence between them made him feel
uncomfortable. “You really don’t mind that I killed someone?”

“Of course not,” Tom murmured as he put them both back to rights. Having someone else
tuck your cock back into your trousers certainly was an interesting experience. “But I know
how this affects a person and I truly would have spared you that if I could.”

“I’m fine,” Harry insisted, even though his mind was still a mess of jumbled thoughts.

Tom arched an eyebrow in an entirely disbelieving way. “Of course you’re fine. That’s why
you just flew completely off the handle because I didn’t immediately pat you on the shoulder
for a job well done.” Before Harry could even think to reply to that statement, Tom leaned a
bit closer and stared deeply into his eyes. “I know you’re not all right at this moment, Harry.
I’ve been there. It takes quite a bit of time to properly process, taking another person’s life.”

“But I will be fine, right?” Harry asked in a small voice, suddenly worried that he truly had
fucked something up beyond repair.
“I’m sure you will be,” Tom said at once with a reassuring smile. “But there is no denying
that you have crossed a boundary today, that you’ve done something that most people would
never think to do.” Tom released a deep sigh. “I can stand here and pretend to care about any
of that, what the world would think if they knew, but honestly I don’t care. Never have and
probably never will. I only care about what you think.”

“I think I’m going to be fine,” Harry said with more determination than he actually felt. He
was definitely feeling a bit raw around the edges, emotionally speaking, but he couldn’t find
an ounce of regret anywhere inside of him. “I’m not sorry, not really. I just wanted to get rid
of her and this seemed the best way to do it.”

“It’s surprising, isn’t it?” Tom asked with a knowing smile. “How easy it is to kill someone. I
remember how that took me completely by surprise after my first time. And second and third
time as well.” Tom chuckled and shook his head. “Killing is easy, but the aftermath can get
complicated if you don’t have a plan.”

Harry nodded at that. “I panicked because I hadn’t expected Skeeter to turn back and
suddenly I had a human corpse on my hands.”

“Still, you came up with a quick solution and you saw it all through.” Tom pulled Harry away
from the wall and gave him a gentle hug. “No body, no crime. That’s all that matters in the
end.”

“I still don’t think we should just kill anyone who annoys us a bit too much,” Harry said as he
rubbed his cheek against Tom’s shoulder. The last thing he wanted was for Tom to get the
idea that they could murder their way towards a better world. “But people who are real
threats to us, I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad.”

Tom stiffened briefly in Harry’s embrace before he pulled back. “We share a soul.”

“I’m aware, soulmate,” Harry said with a quiet chuckle, wondering where Tom was going
with this.

“A piece of my soul has merged with yours. And we’ve been sharing our souls in some
intimate way every single night,” Tom continued, face scrunched up in obvious thought.
“Now, I’ve never had a problem with killing my enemies, even before I ever made my
horcruxes. But you have. You were never a killer, Harry. So what changed?”

“Wait, wait…” Harry stared up at Tom with his mouth opened. “Are you saying you literally
rubbed off on me?”

Tom snorted and briefly ducked his head. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. In more ways
than one.”
End Notes

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