Chapter 2
"Please stay back, Mr. Potter."
Harry sighs. Doesn’t he have enough problems? What did he do to piss off the new History professor? Harry hadn’t thought he needed to worry too much about that one.
Sure, the first few seconds after the man introduced himself, Harry totally had a panic attack. But, come on. ProfessorSlytherin. Of course, he thought the worst! Three out of four DaDA teachers tried to kill him—even if Lupin didn’t mean to—and one had tried to wipe his memory, which is arguably worse. Harry thinks his initial paranoia about new teachers in general is very justified. But then the guy had immediately dropped his prepared papers and stuttered his way through a long-winded explanation of how he ended up as a teacher and why they shouldn’t be afraid of any favouritism even though he is literally the lord of one of the four houses.
That information was a bit of a shock, too. If someone had asked Harry, who he thought held the title of Lord Slytherin, he would have guessed Voldemort. Then again, he knows absolutely diddly about things like that, so maybe it isn't all that weird. All the others reacted to that too, though. Malfoy even choked badly enough a fluttering Professor Slytherin almost had him sent to the hospital wing.
Not gonna lie, seeing that totally made Harry's day.
So Harry is not really all that worried about another Voldemort possessed professor. Yeah, sure, the guy sounds and acts somewhat reminiscent of Quirrel, but really. Would Voldemort pull the same stupid trick twice?
"Of course Professor." Harry waves a worried Ron and Hermione on. Looks like he infected them with his totally legit paranoia.
"I just—I thought it might be a good idea to check on you, Mr. Potter. Your m-mental state, you know?" Professor Slytherin looks both endearingly embarrassed and very determined. Was someone actually going to do their job and giving a fuck about the students? About Harry? Impossible.
"My mental state? I’m fine?" Harry is so confused. The only one who ever checks on his mental state is Hermione, and he can’t say he gets it then either. He’s perfectly fine, right? Why wouldn’t he be?
"Ah, um. I heard about, you know, the events at the end of last year? The accident involving Mr. Diggory?"
Oh. That. Yeah, okay, maybe Harry has recurring dreams of losing Cedric’s hand while being thrown around by a tornado in the complete dark. Or of his dead body, all banged up and with way too much blood—but it’s not like Harry actually saw Cedric’s body. He only heard descriptions of how he was found. Turns out, portkeys aren’t a particularly nice way to die.
"I wasn’t…really there for that, sir. I mean, I kind of was, but I don’t remember it." And thank fuck for small mercies.
"That doesn’t mean it can’t affect you."
Alright. Now that is not fair. Of course, Harry noticed that Professor Slytherin isn’t all that much older than him. Obviously. But why, why, does the man have to be so goddamn attractive behind his ridiculous glasses? And, more importantly, why did Harry have to notice it?
"I-I mean, I don’t want—you don’t have to tell me anything! I just thought…well, I don’t want you to suffer a flashback in class. Because of something I said." Professor Slytherin anxiously fiddles with his papers. He almost drops them again before he forces himself to put them down. He stuffs his hands in his pockets instead, giving Harry a small self-deprecating smile. It's cute, in a truly horrifying, that's-my-fucking-teacher kind of way.
He has a point too. Not so much because of the portkey thing, but there are other incidents. History is hardly a harmless bed-time story, so it is not impossible that something could trigger Harry. And Professor Slytherin had somehow kept the whole class awake and attentive for the entire lesson—very impressive, actually. One wouldn't think he could, just looking at him. So Harry’s usual method of just dissociating is out. Shit.
"Thank you for your concern, sir. But I’ll be okay—promise." Harry needs to get out of here. He really doesn’t know what to do with all this…concern and consideration thrown his way. People don’t usually do that, right? There is no way this is normal. There must be something wrong with this too hot teacher after all. Maybe he's a mass-murderer. Or a disguised demon.
"I see. You can always come to talk to me, if you wish." The smile Professor Slytherin gives him this time is confident, friendly, and Harry is very much too gay for this.
"Thank you Professor. I’ll keep that in mind." He barely manages to say before he flees the classroom as if Voldemort himself was on his tail.
("Ron! 'mione! We have a problem!"
"What happened, mate?"
"What did Professor Slytherin say? He’s not…another threat, is he?"
"Worse. He’s hot."
"How is that—"
"IT’S A PROBLEM.")
Nemesis kid—Harry—is all kinds of fucked up, apparently.
Seemingly scheduled traumatic events every year and an abusive home life that has never been looked into, even though he turns up every year looking like little more than a bruised skeleton.
Very suspicious, that. Impressive, that the kid managed to live through so much adversity and still seems like a reasonably happy person.
He’s not the only student like that either. Neville Longbottom is clearly using a wand that is not his, and the way he flinches every time he gets a letter is very telling. Mandy Brocklehurst had burst into terrified tears when she did not get an O on her last essay and had a panic attack in the owlery. Fred and George Weasley only get mail when it is a howler—which the boys cheerfully ignore, but still. Draco Malfoy keeps talking about his father but only ever gets mail from his mother.
Of course, there are clearly varying levels of abuse/neglect. But that doesn’t make any of it right. It is a teacher's job to help their students in every way they can, and identifying difficulties with their home lives is definitely one of them.
Tom had been a kid like them once. Sent back to an under-funded and overcrowded orphanage every year, even when world war two came crashing down on muggle London. If only one adult had cared enough to take a closer look…well. Tom is determined to do better. He will be the teacher he always wished he had. He will listen when they want to talk and assist where he can.
Augusta Longbottom, for example, will find herself in an unfortunate accident sooner or later, if she doesn’t stop trying to mould the boy into a second coming of her son. And the less is said about the Dursleys, the better. Tom has very special plans for them.
Dumbledore will be confronted with his crimes as well, once Tom has tormented him enough (McGonnagal is already worrying for his mental stability, it is glorious). He can not allow the old man to go through with whatever he has planned for Harry. Tom hasn’t collected all the pieces yet, but it looks more and more like a sacrificial lamb sort of scenario. Which is all kinds of fucked up. Harry is a great kid - smart, talented, polite - and very good at hiding his trauma. Too good, really. That can’t be healthy. Maybe Tom can slowly goad him into opening up with more regular meetings? A little less formal than the stay-behind-after-class thing. The poor boy was clearly terrified. Understandable, with his previous experiences with his teachers. A weekly tea might be the way to go. He just needs an excuse to implement it.
Tom’s musings are interrupted when the door to the staffroom is carelessly thrown open.
"I’m telling you, Filius, the headmaster—oh, good evening, Thomas."
"Good evening Minerva, Filius. Don’t let my presence bother you." Tom smiles nervously at them, then goes back to marking the essays of his seventh years. He needs to order more red ink it seems—the Weasley twins deal with the shock of suddenly having to do homework for History by giving intentionally wrong and hilarious answers. Tom is very tempted to mark their work on entertainment value alone.
"Oh, don’t mind us. We were merely discussing some of our recent interactions with our esteemed headmaster—he seems to have become rather peculiar as of late." Filius Flitwick sinks down on a low chair with a deep sigh. The man isn’t the youngest himself and a full day of classes with the added insanity of Dumbledore must be truly exhausting.
"He isn’t…always like that?" Tom blinks innocently at them. The thick glasses give him a particularly owlish look.
"No. He used to be more directly involved in the school's business. Less focussed on hypothetical threats and individual students." This whole situation must be getting to Minerva. He really hadn’t expected her to talk about Dumbledore like that with a near stranger. Probably all the extra work she has to do, now that the goat is too focussed on Tom’s shadow to perform his duties as headmaster.
"H-hypothetical threats?"
"He’s convinced You-Know-Who has returned. Personally, I find that rather hard to believe—there have been no attacks, no suspicious activity. To top it off, he keeps claiming Mr. Potter as a witness, while the poor boy saw no such thing. It was all a horrible accident and not a single thing the boy said about it indicated anything about outside influence. I truly hate to say this, but I fear it has all gotten a little…too much for Albus."
"Not to mention the strange conspiracy theories he keeps coming up with lately!" Filius puffs up excitedly.
"Conspiracy theories?" Tom leans forward in his seat, doing his best to look concerned instead of gleeful.
"He keeps insinuating things about you, Thomas. I think he can’t quite get over your family name."
"That is -" hilarious "-truly unfortunate. I had hoped to prove myself removed from all the…unsavoury connotations." In front of everyone who is not Dumbledore, of course.
"He mentioned you are a parsel-tongue?"
"It is a hereditary trait. I try to keep it quiet, of course, but there is little I can do about it. I can’t quite stop myself sometimes."
"I see. Maybe you could give Mr. Potter some advice? It has given him some trouble in the past. It might be good for him to have someone to relate with—and you aren’t that much older than him, so he might be more open to you."
"I don’t know about that. I have inquired about his well-being before and the poor lad couldn’t get away quick enough, it seems."
"I am glad to hear you are willing to look out for him. I fear I have always lacked the time."
This is perfect. Now he not only had a reason for meeting with Harry, but encouragement. If Dumbledore tried the ‘he must be evil because he is focussing too much on the saviour’ angle, he would run head first into a brick wall. He was losing the support of his loyal followers even quicker than Tom could have ever anticipated. Amazing.
"I do have a pet snake, but I left her under the care of a friend—I didn’t want to upset the students. Do you think it would help if I acquainted her with Mr. Potter? Give him the opportunity to have some…untainted conversations?"
"That is a wonderful idea, Thomas! It could show Mr. Potter that it is not necessarily an evil trait—maybe he’ll even consider getting a scaly confidante himself. I’m sure we could bend the rules a little, right Minerva?"
"I agree. Personally, I believe that every pet is therapeutic, so why not a snake? Especially since he can talk to it. Naturally, it would have to be on the small side, without any venom."
"I fear my princess is both rather large and highly venomous—I saved her when she was still young and had no idea she would grow so much. Usually I put a cuff on her with a ward that neutralizes her venom, unless I milk her in order to sell to apothecaries. I hope that is not a problem?"
"As an adult, I am sure you have her well under control. I believe it would be best for her to not be out of your chambers without your supervision, but other than that, it should be quite alright." Minerva gives him a polite smile and begins to sort through the pile of essays in front of her.
"Oh, I agree! The list of approved pets is far too short, in my opinion. There is nothing wrong with something a little more exotic. Also, I believe Professor Snape would be positively delighted, if he could have some of your familiars venom."
Tom has to bite his tongue to keep from cackling like a maniac. Did he actually just manage to get approval to take Nagini to Hogwarts? Oh, he can’t wait for Dumbledore’s reaction! It is sure to be absolutely glorious.
It really is. Tom makes sure to run into Dumbledore and Minerva in the corridors while Nagini is draped around his shoulders like a scaly scarf. Dumbledore stops so abruptly, he almost falls over.
"Is that her? She is very beautiful!" Minerva beams at him and approaches to stroke Nagini’s head. Nagini leans into her hand like a cat.
"Compliments will get you everywhere with her. I fear I spoil her too much."
"That is not true, master! You can never spoil me too much!" Nagini turns back towards Tom and glares dangerously.
"Of course, of course, do forgive me, precious."
Dumbledore twitches violently, as he does every time Tom speaks parsel in front of him. Which is as often as he can arrange it. It also has the added benefit of giving Snape war flashbacks. Serves the traitor right.
"Please excuse me, I should get the princess settled in my quarters." Tom walks around the next corner, then stops to listen.
"Minerva! That was—!"
"A very lovely snake. I asked Thomas to bring her, to show Mr. Potter that he doesn’t have to fear this part of himself."
"You what?! But that was clearly Voldemort’s snake! I tell you, this man—"
"Is Voldemort in disguise? Oh, come off it Albus. In all my years here, I have never met a single teacher as dedicated as that young man. He truly cares about the students—all of them. Like all of us should."
"Minerva, you can not simply ignore the implications! There is no descendent of Salazar Slytherin other than Tom Riddle. And that snake was clearly Voldemorts familiar! Tell me, Minerva, how could you possibly explain all this away and endanger young Harry like that?"
"It is always ‘young Harry’ with you! Have you forgotten that there are hundreds of children attending this school?"
"Harry must live long enough to defeat Voldemort. You know this."
"There is no Voldemort, Albus! There is not a single proof that he has returned, not one! And that poor young man you keep accusing—I’m sure you have heard his entire family history at least once! He couldn’t choose his own last name. It is not his fault some psychopath was distantly related to him! He cares a lot more about the students—about Harry’s wellbeing than you seem to. The boy is no soldier, Albus. He is a boy. You would do well to remember that."