Gaining friendship.
Harry Potter could feel his arms trembling. Snape’s memories were flicking through his mind, making him think of everything he’d done before this moment. He was floating in his body, a passenger rather than the driver. He felt the press of his invisibility cloak against his chest, the stolen wand there too, and the resurrection stone in his palm. His knuckles were white from how hard he had clenched the ragged, black stone, grazing the pathetically soft skin of his hand.
He couldn’t stop. Not now, not after everything he’d done. Harry didn’t exactly know what would happen, but he knew that this was where he should be. This is what Dumbledore had chosen. God, that old man… He both infuriated Harry, and made him utterly adore him.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and could feel it filling his lungs, feel it as he exhaled once more. It felt as though all his senses were elevated now that he knew he was about to lose them all. His loved ones, living and dead, crossed his mind. Ron, Hermione. Neville, Luna and all the Weasleys. Sirius, Remus, his parents. Ginny. He hoped she would be okay. He had promised her they’d get back together and be happy once this was all over. Once Voldemort was defeated. There was an undeniable feeling of guilt at the bottom of his stomach. He was leaving such an important job for his friends, for the people he loved. Hermione had told him not to go. Had told him to ignore Voldemort. As if that was possible. If he really was a Horcrux, they were intertwined. Harry carried his soul. That wasn’t just a little thing. It was a huge, monumental thing, one that he certainly couldn’t just ignore.
Too lost in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed he had reached the now-empty nest Aragog once lived in. So this was where the death eaters were using as a den, that explained why all the massive spiders had appeared in the battle.
The clearing was freakishly quiet, all the Death Eaters standing solemnly. There was a roaring fire in the middle, which some people were looking at, others staring around at the woods, as if they were hoping he would magically appear. Though, he kind of would, he supposed. There were two huge giants, who’s faces were dark as the light from the fire didn’t reach them. Many Death Eaters looked scared. Some he couldn’t tell, as they were still wearing their masks.
Then there was Voldemort. He was standing in front of the fire, dressed in long, black robes and his head bowed, showing his grey-ish, bald scalp. His wand was held behind his back by the time he finally raised his head, a furrow on his brow as he gazed deeply into the fire.
“It appears I was…mistaken.” Voldemort’s voice called out, high and pitchy. He looked revolted, disgusted at the mere idea Harry didn’t come.
Harry considered turning. He considered turning on his heel and sprinting away, back to the comforting halls of Hogwarts, back to the bodies of those he loved. But he just couldn’t do it. This was what needed to happen, and it was going to happen. He took a step forwards, his arms hanging limply by his side, “I’m here.” His voice was shaking.
Voldemort’s red eyes snapped to him and a maniacal, almost hysterical grin appeared on his lips. He let out an insane cackle and threw his arms open, “Harry Potter! The boy who lived!”
Harry watched him carefully as he walked into the clearing, looking at Voldemort over the dancing fire, making his image flicker. Voldemort seemed horrifically excited. Harry watched as his long, thin fingers wrapped around his wand and he raised it.
He knew it was coming before it happened. He didn’t bother raising his wand.
“Avada kedavra!”
Everything went black.
***
Harry was conscious, if you could call it that.
He wasn’t really anything, so it didn’t seem to matter whether he was awake or not. He was in some sort of huge, white place. Not a room, exactly, it had to walls, but it was a bright light. Soon enough, Harry realised he had a body, and with that body, he had a neck and eyes, so he could look around.
The white space was odd, and reminded him strongly of King’s Cross, minus the stressed crowds of people trying not to miss their train, of course. As he continued to look around, his eyes met those of a man sitting upright on one of those benches they in places like this. The man had dark skin and hair, with a deep emerald green suit, and gold embellishments, such as the buttons, stitching, and the pocket watch he had. The man simply cocked his head to the side, and before Harry even realised what he was doing, he had sat down on the bench next to him.
The man smiled and crossed his legs, giving Harry an odd look. “Hello, Harry Potter.” The man’s voice was deep and smooth, with a rich twinge that reminded Harry of after eights. That rich, minty flavour seemed to match the vibe this man. Sweet, from the chocolate, but then strong from the minty flavour. He seemed expensive. Only then did it occur to Harry that this man knew his name. Of course, all witches and wizards knew his name, he was the boy who lived, but Harry didn’t think this man was a wizard. He didn’t think he was human.
The man’s smile widened, as if he read Harry’s mind, “That is correct, master. I am not human. You may call me Death.” Harry gaped at the man, his jaw dropping open as he looked up into those dark eyes. They seemed calm enough, with no malicious intent.
“Why are you calling me ‘master’, Death?” Harry asked, watching Death intently.
“You are my master.”
“I—What?”
“The deathly hallows. You have them all.”
Harry blinked at him, feeling a wave of utter bewilderment wash over him. “I know I had the invisibility cloak and the resurrection stone, but I’m pretty sure I never had the wand.”
Death gave him an odd smile at that, shaking his head gently. “Ah, master. Albus Dumbledore was the master of the elder wand, then Draco Malfoy took the wand by using ‘Expelliarmus.’ Then, a matter of months ago, you took used the same spell on him, acquiring the Elder wand’s allegiance.”
Harry slowly nodded, beginning to wrap his head around the idea. “Okay…That makes sense, I think. So…How come I didn’t die? I should be dead by now.”
This time Death laughed probably, throwing his head back in mirth. “You are the master of Death. You cannot die, no matter what happens.” He looked so thoughtfully amused at Harry’s naivety, that Harry flushed red, embarrassed.
“What now?” Harry asked, quickly changing the subject in a desperate attempt to stop Death’s joyous laughter.
And luckily, it seemed to work. Death paused, a furrow appearing on his dark brow as he watched Harry. “Anything you like, master. You may return to your body as you left it in the forest, or go anywhere you like. The world is your oyster.”
Harry watched Death closely, though his mind was elsewhere. Returning to the moment Voldemort killed him would be ideal, and he could finally defeat him. Though on the other hand, so many people he loved would still be dead. Sirius, Remus, Fred, and so many more. He wasn’t sure how long he and others could live with that. Missing so many people…It could send some insane.
Harry’s mind drifted to Voldemort. The Dark Lord who was raised in an orphanage, with no knowledge of magic, and only pain and abuse at the hands of the people who ran it, and the kids there. He knew, from what Dumbledore had told him, that young Riddle was disliked my all of the other children at the orphanage. He was left alone throughout his childhood, left to talk to the snakes. Maybe that is where it all began. If he had a friend…
“What about the past? Can I go there?”
Death’s immediate, almost excited smirk made Harry start, not expecting that response to his question. He figured there would be immediate denial, ‘no, sorry, I can’t do that,’ or even utter shock, ‘what?! What are you on about?!’ So this shocked him.
“Of course you can, master.” Death drawled, leaning back on the bench, looking so laid back it was though he was casually relaxing on a sofa in his own home. Not somewhere in Harry’s subconscious. “To sort out Tom Marvolo Riddle out, I presume?”
Harry nodded, glancing uncertainly at Death. “Yeah. That’s right. So it’s possible. Can you do that for me, Death?”
Death nodded thoughtfully. “I will try. Will you allow me to take artistic liberties with it? I believe I could have some fun with it.”
Giving Death a slightly confused look, Harry nodded and Death beamed. “I will do what I can, master.”
Death stood, brushing down his deep green suit and looked back at Harry with an amused expression. The world began to twist as Harry gazed up at him, and he lurched forward.
***
The next thing Harry knew, he was crying. His glasses were cracked and he was much shorter than he last remembered. Looking down at his body, he realised, with a startled gasp, he was about seven. He still remembered everything, but he was now so small. The room around him was a room he vaguely recognised. From where, he couldn’t remember. The hot, wet streaks of tears were running down his cheeks, though he couldn’t tell why.
Your parents have died, master. You are crying because of that.
‘Death? You’re in my head?’ Harry though, jumping at the sudden deep voice filling his head.
I am, master. I can hear your thoughts so need only to think my name and I will listen.
‘Right…And my parents have just died?’
Correct, master. They died in the bombings happening in London currently. You were found among the rubble and taken here, to Wool’s orphanage.
‘God…Sounds pretty traumatic. And I still look like me, right? I’m still Harry?’
Yes. You look like you when you were seven. And as for the comment about it being traumatic… Death trailed off and Harry had the distinct feeling he was hesitant about asking something, though before he could push, Death had already gone on. Would you like me to input all the memories you from this age would have had? That would include memories with your parents, and the bombing itself.
Harry paused at that, and the pathetic whining sobs of his nine-year-old self halted. Did he want that? On one hand, it would be good for his story, on the other, he would feel an overwhelming wave of jealousy. Even in another time, even when Voldemort didn’t exist yet, and his parents weren’t killed before he could form memories, he still wouldn’t have parents. But the need for his story to be coherent won and he slowly replied to Death, ‘Yeah. Yeah, give me the memories.’
Alright, master. And you don’t need to think about them at all right now. They can remain irrelevant for however long you’d like.
Harry nodded. The door suddenly swung open and a red-faced, rather porky woman walked in. She looked like she could have been a relative of uncle Vernon. Now Harry remembered it. This room he was in, it was Mrs. Cole, the main caregiver at Wool’s orphanage, and that woman was Mrs. Cole. She looked a little younger than when Harry had last seen her in Dumbledore’s memories, which would take place in a matter of years from now.
She eyed him untrustingly as she trotted across the room and sat down on the other side of the desk. “So you’re an orphan then, boy?” She snapped. Jeez, she had no idea of tact. His parents just died, for gods sake. Harry shook the annoyance off and nodded his head.
Mrs. Cole squinted at him, looking unimpressed. How many kids did she take in from the bombing? It must be a lot considering this is her reaction to a child who just watched his parents die. Or maybe she just didn’t know how to be sensitive whatsoever. It was definitely possible from what he’d seen.
“I need your name and age.” Mrs. Cole said.
“Harry P-Evans. Harry Evens. And I’m seven, ma’am.” Harry replied, catching himself before he said Potter. Though it wouldn’t mean anything to him now, the Potters were a fairly well known pureblood family, and he didn’t want anyone to make that connection.
Mrs. Cole frowned again, scribbling something down on the papers in front of her. “Alright. We have one spare room, so you’ll have to stay in there for now. I’ll get Jane to bring what things you have to that room in a moment.”
She stood up and began to walk purposefully towards the door, not looking back to see if Harry was following. Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled after her, having to take two steps for every one of hers.
The orphanage wasn’t in great condition. It was dirty and many things were broken, but Harry put that down to the muggle war going on. He’d learnt something about it in primary school, but could barely remember it. The children who watched as they passed looked happy enough, playing with toys, but there was no laughter, and most seemed gloomy. Maybe they’d lost their parents too. The thought made Harry’s heart sink further into his stomach and he bit down on the inside of his cheek.
When they reached the corridor Harry’s future room lead onto, they walked past a number of doors. A few were pushed open and Harry peered inside, seeing kids curled up in bunk beds, some chatting to each other, others reading old, worn books as they lay on the threadbare sheets. Finally they reached Harry’s room. It was tiny, barely bigger than a broom cupboard, and had only just enough space for the uncomfy - looking mattress on the floor and a thin strip of the wooden floor next to it. Harry slowly entered the room and sat on the mattress, looking up at the tiny window that shone a minuscule amount of light into the room. He could just about see the sad, grey clouds that covered the sky.
“So, here’s your room.” Mrs. Cole shifted, her eyes flicking over the room before coming to settle back on Harry, who gave her a weak smile. She didn’t return it. She gave him an awkward nod before turning on her heel and walking out, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Left in the cold silence that followed, Harry sighed and lay back on the uncomfortable floor mattress. ‘Death? Can I ask you a question?’ He thought as he gazed vaguely at the ceiling. It had a mysterious stain.
Yes, master?
‘Where is Riddle now?’
He is in his room. It’s the room next to yours. He is currently talking to a snake he found in the garden.
At that, Harry barked out a laugh. He could see it now, Tom Riddle, future Dark Lord, lying on his bed chatting to a snake. ‘Can I still talk to snakes?’
Death hummed thoughtfully in his head before replying. No. The reason you could speak parseltongue in the first place was because of the shard of Tom Riddle’s soul you contained as a horcrux. It died inside you when you were killed, so you can no longer speak the language.
Harry grimaced and pulled the thin blanket closer around his body. ‘Ah. That’s…a bit shit. I was hoping we could maybe bond over it or something. Can you make me a parseltongue?’
I’m afraid not, master. I could make snakes just really like you though?
Harry had the strong impression that Death was making a joke. He laughed at that and nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he thought. ‘That sounds good. Make me a snake magnet then. Make the sweet little suckers love me.’
Death laughed at that, and Harry relaxed into the mattress. It was uncomfortable, but in this moment, it was oddly nice. That was when the door opened.
Harry jumped and sat up with a jolt. Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin woman. She looked softer than Mrs. Cole, but still fairly intimidating. She had a bag in her hands which Death quietly informed him was his belongings, the ones that survived the bombings. This must be Jane, Mrs. Cole’s assistant, the one she mentioned earlier. Harry watched as she dropped the bag on the floor and quickly turned on her heel, letting the door shut behind her. Didn’t want to talk to the orphans, huh?
***
Tom always closely watched the new comers to Wool’s. It wasn’t like any of them would ever interest him. They were always soft, pathetic children. Even the ones older than him, who should be more mature and stable, whined like babies. It was utterly pitiful. Sure, their parents might just have died, but it was mortifying. They could, at the very least, hold themselves together until they were in the privacy of their own room.
That’s why Harry Evans interested him.
The boy, though recently having lost his parents due to the bombing, didn’t seem to be mourning them. He sometimes seemed fairly solemn, but not exactly heartbroken as the others were. Tom liked that. It looked like Evans could handle his emotions, which he certainly was pleased by. He even had the room next to Tom’s, and Tom could hear through the thin walls that he didn’t even cry. That was an excellent quality.
Of course, Tom told his little burmese python, Nagini, who he’d found a matter of weeks ago, all of this. She was an excellent listener, and she always made good points during discussions they had about various things. Mostly about how he could talk to her, and the punishments they could bestow on the other children.
***
Harry needed an excuse to talk to Riddle. He knew he was at least somewhat interested in him, and that he could just approach him. Riddle was complicated, and Harry didn’t think he’d appreciate being randomly confronted by a stranger.
Luckily, that opportunity came early one grey, rainy, Thursday morning when he woke up with a snake sleeping on his chest.
Letting out a strangled cry, he tried to scramble away, but it didn’t really do much. The python lifted its head to look at him for a few moments, tongue darting out to taste Harry’s scent, before it relaxed again and rested its head in the crook of his neck. Completely frozen, Harry lay there, stiff. There was a snake sleeping on him.
Riddle’s snake, master. Death’s voice rang around his head, not sounding tired whatsoever. It was so early. Did he not sleep or something?
I do not, master.
Harry grimaced at that and gently reached out to run a hand over the snakes scales. ‘Well, you should sleep. You might not be able to die, but you should still sleep. It’s important, y’know?’ Harry thought and Death laughed softly, though Harry got the impression he was nodding.
‘So…’ Thought Harry carefully. ‘How come there is Riddle’s snake sleeping on my chest?’
I told you I was going to make you irresistible to snakes, master. All of the species will adore you and your scent, actively seeking you out.
Harry nodded thoughtfully and sat up, leaning against the wall and letting the snake slide down his chest onto his lap. It gave him a betrayed glare before settling itself, though it was clear it still wanted to lie near his neck where his scent was strongest. Beginning to hum lightly to himself, Harry gently stroked the snake again.
What was he doing? Dying, and then going back to the past? To help Tom Riddle, of all people? He was utterly idiot, that he knew, but if this helped anyone. If he could guide Riddle in the other direction, away from Horcruxes and Voldemort…If he did, well, so many people would survive who didn’t previously. All the Marauders, for one.
‘Death?’ Harry thought, gazing blankly at the white wall opposite him.
Yes, master?
‘Do I have the Hallows here?’
You do. They live with me, in the realm of your subconscious, and can be summoned when you need them. You need only to ask me and I will be happy to oblige.
Harry nodded to himself, unsure as to whether Death could see it.
What was his plan? He hadn’t really thought that far ahead just yet. He knew he wanted to get close to Riddle and become friends. But then, Dumbledore had once told him that Riddle didn’t have friends, only followers. Maybe Harry could change that. Besides, when they end up going to Hogwarts together, as he knew they would, he could impress him. He knew as much magic as a seventeen year old, after all. That could definitely assist him, somewhere at least. Though, he mostly only excelled at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and most definitely not too much on the academic side of things. Maybe if he got close to Riddle he’d help him study.
What was he thinking? Where did that thought come from? He hadn’t even spoken to Riddle yet, for gods sake.
The python on Harry’s chest made a little noise and Harry was brought back to the present with a surprised start. Right. Of course. His plan had been to deliver Riddle his snake back, and hopefully gain a little more interest since his snake liked him. Fingers crossed anyway.
Standing up, Harry adjusted the snake, moving to carry it in his arms like a baby, but the snake clearly had other ideas. It flicked it’s tongue at him in annoyance and moved itself, opting to slither around his shoulders and rest, curled around his shoulders and neck. In any other situation, Harry knew well he would be pissing himself. A rather large, scary Burmese python wrapped around his neck, practically preparing to strangle him? Utterly terrifying. But somehow, right now, he wasn’t scared in the slightest. The snake was calm and seemed to seek comfort from him, not wanting to eat him.
Leaving the snake be, Harry brushed off his pyjamas and walked out of his broom cupboard sized bedroom and looked up and down the hallway. It was still fairly early so no one was awake, though he suspected Riddle was. And he knew immediate what room it was. There was an almost unbearable amount of magic pulsating through the door. How could Dumbledore have bared it when he came to tell Riddle he was a wizard? It was petrifying, and utterly awed Harry. How could someone possibly have this much magic? Especially when they didn’t even know they had it yet, and couldn’t control it yet. Harry was sure even Dumbledore didn’t have this much magic, unless he was just remarkably good at hiding it. The only place he had ever been so overwhelmed by magical power was when he was a Hogwarts. But even that was slightly terrifying. The idea of Riddle, before he knew he had magic, or how to control it, had an equal amount of magic as a school hundreds of years old, built upon pure magic, and the hundreds of wizards and witches inside.
Shaking his head again, Harry got rid of the thought. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on it, and anyway, he was probably just so shocked his mind was exaggerating. Harry took a step forward towards the door and knocked.
A few moments later, the door cracked open a few inches.
Riddle was standing in the doorway, looking down at him with a blank expression. Harry could see the ceiling over his shoulder and saw, with a little dismay, that his room was easily three times the size of his own. It was clearly one meant to be shared between multiple children, though Harry heavily suspected everyone was too scared to be in the same room as him, so let him choose where he wanted to sleep, as long as it was away from them.
Riddle’s face changed immediately once he saw the snake around Harry’s neck, however. Though he didn’t smile, his face softened somewhat and he reached out a hand towards it. “Nagini, come here.” He murmured, in English rather than parseltonge, and Harry suddenly felt a wave of revulsion.
This was the snake that Voldemort had. It was young now though, maybe only a couple of years, though Harry suspected that at some point Riddle would make it a horcrux, affectively making it immortal. He tried not to make it show on his face, and was lucky, as Riddle seemed to be too focused on carefully taking Nagini into his own arms and examining her, as if he expected her to be damaged or something. ‘Rude much,’ he thought to himself, furrowing his brows.
As soon as Riddle had Nagini, who now looked much more deadly and vicious than she had been, around his own neck, his expression shifted. It went back to that cold, blank look he had before, though Harry could see a glimpse of interest as he surveyed Harry. Maybe when he was young he didn’t have quite as much skill for hiding those things. Those little flickers of emotion, of thoughts crossing his face. “Why did you have her?”
It took Harry a moment to realise Riddle had spoken, and when he did, he startled slightly, before forcing himself to relax. “I, uh, woke up to her sleeping on my chest.” Riddle arched a quizzical, almost unbelieving, eyebrow and Harry stuttered to continue. “My door was a little open. I guess she must have, er, slithered in when I was sleeping?” The statement sounded more like a question than he would have liked, but Riddle appeared to accept it as he nodded his head and looked back over his shoulder into his room.
Harry automatically looked as well and went on tiptoes in a desperate attempt to see what he was looking at, but Riddle’s head whipped back around and he looked back at him with a frown, slowly closing the door another inch so Harry couldn’t see any further inside. Bummer. Though, it was probably just some cult of snakes of something. He wouldn’t put it past Riddle, even if he was young now.
It was odd, what Harry was feeling towards Riddle right about now. It confused him. He felt utter, unadulterated hatred tow the boy, but also somehow also a mix of pity and guilt. This boy, this child, may never do the things he was supposedly going to do if he was simply loved. Maybe Dumbledore was right, with his views on love. This boy in front of him, maybe if he was raised with equal love and affection others had, he may be a force of good. Someone to help others.
Harry was snapped out of his thoughts rather abruptly when Riddle, seemily impatient, snapped his fingers in his face. Now all curiosity had vanished from his expression and he looked half bored, half pissed off. “Well? What else do you need or are you going to keep staring at me?” Riddle’s voice was sharp and harsh, bringing Harry back to reality with force.
Harry jerked and nodded awkwardly, his eyes flicking back to meet Riddle’s own dark eyes. They were a warm brown at the moment, reminding Harry of hot chocolate, honey, and autumn. “I—Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought.” He garbled, stumbling to dip his head in a sort of bow.
Why did he do that??! That was weird! Riddle seemed to find it amusing though, and Harry didn’t exactly know whether that was a good thing just yet. Riddle scoffed and rolled his eyes at Harry, waving a hand in a shooing motion as he turned back into his room, Nagini, watching Harry curiously from his shoulder. It may just have been his imagination, but Harry was sure he had spotted something other than bored neutrality on Riddle’s face, but it was gone too fast for him to decipher it.
The door slammed in his face and Harry took a involuntary step backwards, gazing vaguely at the dark, cool wood of the door in front of him. Running a hand over his face, he wondered back to his room to wait for breakfast and think over everything he had just seen and heard.
This was most definitely going to be interesting.
***
Dear Diary,
The most fascinating thing just happened. I had completed the second part of my ritual when Harry Evans knocked on my door. The old book I had been using said the first part was supposed to bring the deity to the Earth, and then the second part was to bring them to your exact location. After I completed the first part, Harry Evans arrived at the orphanage, and after the second, he appeared outside my room. I am sure this is not a coincidence, though I did have to make sure he didn’t see the ritual in my room. He may join the other children with calling me a freak if he saw the pig’s blood Nagini acquired for me.
Harry Evans must be the deity I summoned. He must be my deity. Though I suspect he doesn’t know who summoned him, and therefore who his master is, so I will have to communicate this with him in the future. But first, I need to get close to him. He will likely try to hide the fact he is a deity to mortals, so I will have to gain his trust before I can discover if I was correct. That should be easy enough, as I can be charming when necessary.
And the other fascinating thing about Harry Evans, is Nagini likes him. She never likes anyone other than me, so this is certainly a new thing. She said his scent was ‘irresistible’, though I am not sure what exactly that means. I will have to smell him for myself at some point, though when he doesn’t know it. I believe it to be something to do with his status as a deity, but I am not certain.
—Tom M Riddle.
***
The next day, the same thing happened. He woke up with Nagini curled peacefully on his chest, and carried her through to Riddle’s room. Riddle opened the door with that same oddly blank expression, though Harry simply ignored it and gave Nagini back to him. Soon enough, it became a routine. Months passed, and every morning the same thing would happen, and eventually they had small, albeit brief, conversations.
Like this morning, for instance.
Harry had walked to Riddle’s room, like usual, and knocked on the door. Riddle opened the door and gave him a nod, lips twitching slightly into what could have been a smile. Just barely though. “Good morning, Evans.”
Harry gave him a bright smile, wanting to be as friendly as physically possible in an attempt to get Riddle to open up. “Morning, Riddle! And I’ve told you before, just Harry is perfectly fine.”
Riddle gave him an odd look as he retrieved Nagini, picking her up and allowing her to wrap herself around his neck. “…Harry it is. Well then, Harry, will you meet me at the bottom of the garden after dinner?”
Harry blinked at him, bewildered. What did Riddle mean? Whatever it was, it was a good thing. He was getting closer to him. “Uh, sure, I guess so. Why?”
“You will find out.”
Harry made a disgruntled sound and huffed, but the frown Riddle shot him, all disapproving and annoyed. He looked so much like an angry puppy with that slight pout that Harry laughed slight, raising a hand to cover his mouth. Riddle, seemingly offended by Harry’s slightly hysterical laughter, slammed the door shut.
When dinner had finished, and Harry had ran upstairs to brush his teeth to get the revolting taste of the rations they have at the orphanage out of his mouth, he wondered out into the overgrown garden to meet Riddle. The garden wasn’t one of those beautiful, perfect ones Aunt Petunia used to look at in magazines or make Harry garden to their garden to make it look like that. It was long abandoned, the only people ever going it were a few of the other kids. And Riddle, apparently.
When Harry reached the bottom of the garden, ducking and pushing through the brambles, he saw Riddle, standing with his back straight and Nagini curled around his neck. He somehow managed to get there without a single scratch from all the thorns, though Harry suspected it must have been his magic. It wouldn’t surprise him. With the amount of powerful magic Riddle had, he wouldn’t be surprised if every bramble curved out of his way, never touching his body.
“Harry.” Riddle greeted with a small nod. Nagini flicked her tongue happily when she spotted Harry, seemingly pleased to see him.
“Riddle. Uh, what did you want me for?”
Riddle didn’t reply, instead opting to turn on his heel and gesture for Harry to follow with his head. Harry, slightly confused, began to follow. Riddle led them through the thicket of trees at the back of the garden and they eventually came out to the back of a tall building.
“So…What now? You gonna kill me or something?” Harry joked awkwardly, looking around the dingy alley.
The comment earned him a glare from Riddle, who mumbled quietly under his breath, “It’s not as if I could kill you.”
Gaping at Riddle, Harry’s jaw went slack. What did that mean? Did he somehow know he was master of Death, and therefore immortal? It was impossible for him to know, so what made him say that? Was it something to do with the fact the orphanage would know if one of the kids suddenly went missing, last sawn with Riddle himself? It had to be that. There was no other possibility. Riddle didn’t want to be found guilty to <murder>. Harry knew that much well enough. Though, it was less about killing Harry, more about being convicted, or having it put on his records or something.
Riddle, however didn’t seem to notice Harry’s awe, or maybe he just ignored it, and took a step towards the pipes running up the side of the building. Then he started to climb it. If Harry’s already slack jaw could go further, it would. He though Tom Riddle was all about elegance and charisma, so he certainly didn’t expect to watch him scramble up a pipe in a back alley.
Looking over his shoulder, Riddle gave Harry a look, which obviously ment, ‘are you coming or not?’ And he’d be insane not to follow right about now. Watching where all the footholds were, and what places could hold their weight, Harry began to follow. He certainly wasn’t as graceful as Riddle, who somehow, now Harry tried for himself realised, managed to do it with a certain poise not expected of a seven year old orphan.
Once Riddle reached the roof of the rather square brick of concrete which was the building, he surprised Harry again. He knelt at the edge and held out a hand to help haul him up onto the roof next to him. Harry, still slightly shocked, grabbed his hand and allowed him to yank him up.
“There.” Riddle murmured once he saw, with a slightly amused smirk, that Harry was now lying on his back, panting. It was kind of a workout, to be fair though. All his muscles had been used, core, arms and legs. Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry gave Riddle a pout, watching with an internal glee, as Riddle’s smirk softened into an entertained smile. This was brilliant for his plan.
“Come on. Over here.” Riddle nodded towards another point on the roof, where some large crates were. When Harry scrambled to his feet and followed Riddle, he looked and the crates were covered in sheets of that dark green waterproof fabric, obviously to prevent the contents from getting soaked by the rain. Pulling the sheets of fabric back, Riddle revealed that inside the crates were…blankets? They were knitted jumpers, likely stolen from the other children, knitted into a few sheets. Riddle had to hoist himself up to sit on the edge of the create to reach the blankets, which he dropped on the ground next to Harry.
Once all the blankets were retrieved, Riddle moved to sit down, leaning against the crates as he pulled the blankets around himself. Hastening to follow his lead, Harry sat down next to him, blankets around himself, though he purposely sat a tiny bit too close to Riddle, wanting to see if he’d be rejected and Riddle would move away. But he didn’t. Riddle glanced at Harry, obviously taking note of how close he was, but didn’t turn away of make Harry move, instead going back to coaxing Nagini into the sleeve of one of the cut up jumpers, which served as a sort of jumper. Once Nagini, now settled in her long, warm tube of knitting, was ‘dressed’ she moved to lie happily across their laps.
“So…Uh, what now?” Harry asked, glancing over at Riddle, who was already looking at him.
Riddle gave him a careful look before eventually pointing forwards. “Look, Harry.” Turning his head, Harry saw the most beautiful landscape of London he’d ever seen, and the sunset…It made everything glow beautifully, all warm yellows and oranges, and the sky was a gorgeous shade of pink-y purple and he could just about see the sun slowly disappearing behind a row of houses in the distance.
“Woah…” Harry murmured, drinking in the shapes and colours he saw before him. It soon struck him that Riddle likely hadn’t ever taken anyone here. With the way he had been so secretive about it…And the trek to actually get here, and the fact Riddle didn’t have anyone he could show it to. Other than Nagini, of course.
Looking over at Riddle, who was basking like a snake in the warm sunlight, muscles relaxed, he spoke up. “Thank you for showing me this place, Riddle.”
Riddle cracked one eye open to gaze over at Harry, who squirmed slightly. Had he said something wrong? Riddle’s gaze had the same feeling that Dumbledore’s piercing x-Ray stare used to. Then finally, Riddle looked away again and spoke up, “I’m glad you appreciate it. And if I am supposed to call you ‘Harry,’ you should call me ‘Tom’.”
That was definitely progress! Moving to first name basis on both sides in only a few months was more than he expected, and he was grateful for it. “Tom it is then. So, why did you bring me up here of all people? Not that I don’t love it, I really do, but I’m curious.”
Riddle, or now Tom, made a thoughtful noise. “I…want a friend. You seemed to match the description best. I talk to you everyday, for one, and Nagini likes you. I trust anyone Nagini likes.”
Harry felt an excited warmth blossoming in his chest and gave Tom a crooked grin. “I’ll be your friend, Tom.”
That odd look passed over Tom’s face again before a tiny, almost completely imperceptible smile crossed his lips and he nodded, settling back against the crates.
The two of them ended up sitting in comfortable silence for the rest of the evening, watching the sun set and the city streets turn dark. By the time Tom had stood up and put the blankets back in the crates, Nagini’s knitted tube included, Harry was half asleep, eyes lidded and shoulders sagging.
“Harry, come on. We need to get back to the orphanage. I don't want you to freeze, and you will if you sleep out here.” Tom urged, letting out a disgruntled sigh when he had to grip Harry’s arm and hoist him to his feet. Yawning, Harry leant on Tom, eyes drifting shut. That was until he got a sharp elbow to the ribs and jerked awake.
“Ow, what the—“ He yelped, rubbing his side as he watched Tom cover the crates in that waterproof fabric once again, now able to support his own weight.
When they climbed down the pipes again, Harry let Tom go first so he could watch and follow, making sure to get all the right footholds and so on. Pushing through the trees and bushes again was simple enough, and Harry confirmed that his theory about the brambles not touching Tom was correct, so he stuck close to him in the hopes he wouldn’t get scratched. Eventually, they were creeping through the orphanage and up the stairs to their room’s.
“Good night, Harry. I would like to do that again with you at some point.” Tom whispered to Harry, Nagini still wrapped loosely around his neck.
Harry immediately nodded, a smile blooming on his face again. “Of course, Tom. It was really nice, honestly. And good night to you too.”
They said goodbye and vanished into their own rooms, Harry immediately collapsing onto the floor mattress and drifting off. Not after murmuring a ‘thank you for making snakes like me’ to Death in his thoughts.
***
Dear Diary,
Harry Evans interests me. A few months have passed since he came to the orphanage and I believe my theory is correct. He must be the deity I summoned. He appears to be as drawn to me as I am him, and I brought him to my sunset spot today. He asked me why I brought him and I told him it was because I wanted a friend, which I suppose is true, in some ways. And, besides, who am I to reject a deity wanting to be friends with me? Having a positive relationship would be good. Though, he still does not seem to know who his master is. It would be me, of course, I was the one who summons him, but he doesn’t appear to have realised it yet.
And there is that scar. It is on his forehead, a jagged line moving down towards his brow. It’s quite like the runes I had to draw on the floor in pig’s blood when I did the ritual, so there is the possibility that it is connected. I like that idea though. A mark of mine on him, showing that he is my deity. That I am his master. Though, on the getting close to him to eventually get him to reveal he is a god of sorts plan, I believe it will be one for the long run. I need to get him completely comfortable around me, and I don’t want to test my luck and lose all progress I made.
He also requested I call him ‘Harry’ this morning. Hearing me say it seems to make him smile, though I don’t exactly know why. So when I took him to my sunset spot this evening, I told him to call me Tom rather than Riddle. I don’t know exactly why. I’ve never liked the name ‘Tom’. It’s too common, and lowers me down to other, useless people’s statuses. Though when Harry says it, I like it. I don’t know what this means. Something about the way he says it I think. I will try to work this out.
—Tom M Riddle.
***
By March, they were both eight and had breached the physical contact stage of their friendship. It started with Harry just nudging Tom every now and then, but soon became occasional hugs and so on.
Now at just ten years old, he and Tom were…best friends. They, from what he could tell, comftable and happy around each other. They spent every living moment together, and Tom even revealed that he could talk to snaked to Harry. This was really good. Opening up to each other is an amazing sign. Showing Tom all the love and affection he needed would, hopefully, lead him away from becoming Voldemort. And to do that, Harry thought physical touch was a good way to go.
Like now, for instance.
They were both in Tom’s room, Tom sitting at the edge of his bed, and Harry sitting one the floor, legs out in front of him, and his back rested against Tom’s own legs. He had his head in Tom’s lap, where Tom was threading his fingers through Harry’s messy black hair. Over the few years he had been at the orphanage, though he wasn’t always strictly in his mind during, his hair had grown. Whenever he looked in the dirty mirrors in the bathroom, he was reminded heavily of Sirius, and mostly kept it up in a scruffy bun, though let it down when Tom wanted to play with it. Tom, on the other hand,’s hair looked as perfect as always. It never grew too long or got messy. Again, Harry pegged it for Tom’s magic. It was insanely strong so Harry didn’t know how Tom himself didn’t realise it, but he decided not to tell him. It wasn’t for him to say, after all.
“Your hair is getting so long now, Harry.” Tom murmured, now beginning to randomly twist pieces of his hair.
“You want to cut a little off?” Harry cracked open an eye to look up at Tom, who’s brown eyes immediately fixed onto Harry’s green ones.
Tom raised his eyebrows at Harry’s suggestion and glanced over at Nagini, who was currently sleeping on his bed, with a thoughtful expression. That odd expression crossed his face again before he nodded his head. “Okay. You want it like how you had it before?”
Harry nodded and moved to kneel on the floor as he watched Tom dart to his desk to grab scissors. Once Tom was settled on the bed again, Harry gave him an almost-giddy grin. He felt so light and airy, and he could barely understand how Tom would eventually become the monster that was Voldemort. But if he did his job right, hopefully he would never be him. If he did it correctly, Tom would excel at magic, and maybe end up becoming the Minister of Magic. Maybe he would make a positive difference in the wizarding world. God knew they needed it.
He was yanked out of his thoughts as Tom started to hack at his hair. There was something inherently hilarious about your best mate violently slashing at your hair with rather blunt scissors. Harry began to hysterically laugh, not exactly knowing why. Tom gave him an utterly bewildering look, a smile turning the corners of his lips up into a subtle grin as he continued to attempt to cut Harry’s hair.
Once he was finished, Harry bounded across the room to peer into the dirty mirror hanging on the wall. He was pleasantly surprised. He expected it to look awful, but it actually looked pretty good. Like how it was before he grew it out, messy and insanely scruffy, but perfect. How come Tom Riddle was amazing at everything he ever does? Honestly, it’s not fair.
“Do…you like it…?” Harry was brought back when Tom asked the question, looking uncharacteristically anxious.
Harry nodded passionately in response, turning around to grin at him. “Mhm! It looks great, thank you!” He beamed at Tom and crossed the room again to hug him.
Tom, though slightly startled by the sudden physical contact, slowly relaxed into the hug and wrapped his arms around Harry in return. Harry felt Tom’s hands move, trying to work out where to rest, eventually settling to sit awkwardly on Harry’s waist.
When they eventually parted, Harry was grinning and Tom looked embarrassed, his ears tinged pink, just like how Ron’s used to. Ron…Harry wondered what would happen to Ron in the future. He wouldn’t mix with the Weasley’s, he knew that. He didn’t want to accidentally step in the way of anyone being born. That…That would break him too much.
But back to the present, and he was smiling at Tom. Nagini made a small hissing sound and Tom immediately walked over to her, sitting down on the bed next to her and running his hands over her scales. He cooed at her, murmuring hissed words Harry couldn’t understand anymore. But even if he didn’t understand anymore, he could tell it was sweet.
He crossed the room and sat down on the other side of Tom, leaning slightly into him to watch the affectionate exchange between boy and his snake. Before meeting Nagini and having snakes adore him, he’d never found them particularly sweet, but now he noticed all the little things he never had before. Things like the little gap at the front of Nagini’s mouth where her tongue flickered out when her mouth was closed. Or the way she made a purring-like sound when sleeping on his chest, or the way she was so warm. Even the cute little way her mouth curled up at the corners like a minuscule smile melted his heart.
“What’s she saying?” Harry whispered to Tom, his chin almost resting on Tom’s shoulder.
Tom didn’t seem to particularly mind though, glancing back at Harry, pausing at the closeness, then brushing it off and raising an arm to run his long, pale fingers through Harry’s newly cut hair. “She says she’s hungry and sleepy at once and doesn’t know which to do first. I told her to eat one of the mice I keep in the draw of my desk, but she doesn’t want to go get it.”
Harry laughed, reaching a hand forward to rub lazily over her smooth scales. “She’s lazy just like me. Like father like daughter.”
Tom raised an eyebrow at that, a smirk forming lightly on his lips. “She’s your daughter now? I’m sorry to say, but I think I’d be her father. If you were part of the family, you’d be the mother.”
Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fond grin forming on his lips. “Why can’t she have two dads?” He suddenly watched Tom very closely. Gay relationships were frowned upon in this era, at least in muggle society, he had no idea how pureblood witches and wizards acted, and it would interest him to see how Tom would react to the idea of being in a gay relationship.
Tom paused, a furrow appearing between his dark brows. “It would be confusing. She would call us both ‘dad,’ and then we would always be always be confused at who she was referring to.”
Harry relaxed at that, letting out a chuckle. Riddle wasn’t apposed to it because he was homophobic, he was only concerned with the fact they’d get confused who Nagini was referring to. God, since when had he gotten so concerned with hypotheticals. He laughed slightly and grinned at Tom. “Firstly, I wouldn’t be confused because I can’t speak to p-to her.” Shit. He almost said parsletongue, and Tom didn’t know that was the word for talking to snakes, but luckily Tom didn’t appear to have noticed. “And there are multiple ways of saying ‘dad’. There are ‘dad,’ ‘papa,’ and a load more. We could be different words, y’know?”
Tom slowly nodded, humming to himself. “Dad, that’s schhss. And papa, that’s ssssshss. I’ll be dad, you be papa, and Nagini will be a daughter.” He smiled and turned back to Nagini, hissing softly at her, pointing to himself, then at Harry, most likely saying that that’s what she could call them. She let out an amused sound in response and hissed back at him. By Tom’s grin, Harry supposed she agreed.
“So, in this hypothetical,” Tom drawled, “I’m presuming we’d be husbands, right?”
Harry laughed and nodded. “Yeah, but you better give me a ring, okay?” He grinned ear to ear at Tom, throwing an arm loosely around his shoulders.
Tom rolled his eyes but gave Harry an odd-sort of smile. But before he could answer, they heard the loud yelling of Mrs. Cole calling for lights out. Harry flinched, but Tom didn’t even blink, looking as annoyingly calm as aways. Harry stood up to grab his stuff back and go back to his room, when Tom’s door was pushed open and Mrs. Cole looked inside.
“Boys? Uh, can Harry move into this room?” Mrs. Cole asked and Harry blinked at her, eyes wide in astonishment. What did she mean? Why did he even need to stay in Tom’s room? As if sensing his silent queries, Mrs. Cole hastened to explain, though Harry privately thought it was because she caught sight of Tom’s stern eyes piercing her. “We’ve just had another girl move in. All the other rooms are filled, and, well, this is the only other room big enough for multiple people. And, uh,” she glanced at Harry, “you’re the only one willing to share with Riddle.”
She gazed over at Tom, almost looking scared of what he’d do, but he remained impassive.
Harry slowly nodded and stood up. “Sure, I can stay in here if Tom’s okay with it?” It came out as more a question than he intended, and he looked back at Tom with a questioning expression. Tom, remaining silent, nodded.
Mrs. Cole’s shoulder’s sagged in relief and she nodded. “Alright then. Harry, you go grab your bags from your room as I show the new girl around.” Mrs. Cole quickly ducked out of the room, clearly not bothering enough to stay and work out the sleeping arrangements. Tom only had one bed, after all. Though it was more than big enough for them and Nagini when she’s fully grown.
Bed came around fairly quickly, and Harry had grabbed his things from his old room. Now, in pyjamas, having already brushed his teeth, Harry lay in Tom’s bed, on his side with his back up against the wall. Nagini was curled next to him, completely relaxed and calm. He was watching Tom who, now dressed in pyjamas, grabbed a small bag which had his toothbrush in, and crossed the room to the door. There was something else in his hands, but Harry didn’t pay it any attention. Too tired too.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth.” Tom said, looking back over his shoulder at Harry. “Good night, Harry.”
Harry nodded sleepily, letting out a yawn. “Night, Tom.” His eye lids felt heavy as he watched Tom leave the room, letting his eyes flutter shut.
Tom’s soft bed felt so much more comfortable than his previous floor mattress, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for the new girl having to sleep in it. But he couldn’t get himself to dwell on it for long. The bed was so comfortable, and Nagini was keeping him so warm… And his plan was working! Though Tom was still cold and fairly cruel to some of the other orphans, he was much better than he had been in Dumbledore’s memories. Especially to Harry. To Harry, he was soft and surprisingly sweet. He even let Harry joke around with him which was an improvement in itself. It all made him feel so bubbly and happy inside, he couldn’t help it. This Tom Riddle, <his> Tom Riddle, was so different from the one he saw from the diary, albeit that one was older, or from Dumbledore’s memories. That Riddle was cold and would probably torture or kill someone if they teased him, but his Tom found it amusing and might even join in.
He was asleep before Tom got back from the bathroom.
***
Dear Diary,
I have a lot to tell you today. Me and Harry were in my room, and he let me cut his hair. I am positive he is some sort of divine entity. There was one point I cut shorter than the rest on the back of his head, and within minutes, when I wasn’t looking at him, it had grown back to match the length of the rest of his hair. It was truly fascinating.
And there was fact he occasionally seems like he’s testing me. He’ll say something then closely observe my reactions, like he’s expecting something and always looks satisfied with the response I give. I wonder what it is he likes. I would like to continue doing whatever it is. There is something I like about that curious smile he gives.
We were talking today, and we began a hypothetical as Nagini’s parents. I asked if we would be married in this hypothetical, and he laughed and said we would if I got him a ring. He needs to be my husband. I felt a strong want when he agreed. I will need to get him a ring. Perhaps I could talk to Nagini about possible substances I could use. Being married to some kind of god, such as him, would be greatly beneficial.
And Mrs. Cole is horrid. She dare insult me on my popularity with the other orphans? And in front of Harry? I wanted to strangle her just then, and I think she could feel it. But I let it pass that time as she came with the news Harry would have to move into my room. I like that. Having him so close to me may act as some kind of ward, but I had to sneak to the bathroom to write this.
Currently, my plans are to get closer to Harry, make him a ring, and keep him close. A god, or deity, would be incredibly helpful to me.
Tom M Riddle.