No Place Like London
Lives of men in their 40s may differ, but their dreams and ambitions are typically the same. A happy family and a stable job, waking up to a perfect English breakfast being prepared by his loving wife, and children running around the table, giggles filling the air. Kissing your love goodbye before going to work.
Dreams rarely materialize as intended in one man’s mind. With untidy graying hair, haggard body posture, and gaunt features that make the lightning bolt-like scar cutting down his face even more menacing, a man stood at the head of a ship. Heading towards London.
Despite exploring countless monuments and cultures worldwide, none can rival the allure of London. Not for him.
The salty humidity made his hair stand even more on end, even with it tied back, causing him to push it out the way every minute. The crashing sound of the waves as they get nearer towards shore makes him tense. In some ways, he’s happy to be back, but mostly he dreads it. His stomach turns as the sound of the city reaches his ears and the thought of coming across people he once knew makes his skin itch, all except for-
“Mr. Potter! Can you see it?!” Scorpius yelled, hanging over the edge and pointing towards the docks that were getting closer. Quickly, Harry grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back before he could slip. Should anything occur to Scorpius while Harry is around, the older Malfoy would find some way to blame him.
“Be careful Scorpius. We don’t want you falling over the ship’s edge.” He swept off any dirt from the boy’s robes and steadied him, but his excitement didn’t lessen.
“But didn’t you see Mr. Potter? We’re going to be in London soon! Oh, how I missed it! Nowhere compares to London.
“No, there isn’t.” Harry whispered as he looked out towards the sea, a mournful sigh clear in his words.
“Mr. Potter?” The young Malfoy hesitantly asked. “Is something the matter? You sounded so solemn just now?” The man chuckled under his breath, knowing Draco would admonish him for being so blunt.
“It shouldn’t matter to you, but if you wish to hear, I could tell you.” He hadn’t told another soul in the 16 years since it happened, but then again, no one ever asked. It would be nice to tell someone for once.
“Of course, I would love to hear it!” He yelled, before backtracking, abashed. “That is, if you’re comfortable telling me.” Harry smiled and shook his head. The boy was so young, not yet ready for how cruel the world would be. He almost wished that he could shield him from the horrors, but his father was there for that.
Despite his response, it took a minute to gather his bearings enough to tell his story. He hardly thinks about it. It’s significantly harder to tell someone about it. He looked into Scorpius’s eyes, still so eager, still so young.
“The world has been kind to you, but you must know there is so much more out there than what you have experienced.” He opened his mouth to respond, but Harry had already begun his story.
“I wasn’t always such a mess. I had what I believed to be a respectable life. I was married with a child on the way and had a successful barber shop.” At Scorpius’s incredulous glance towards his hair, which he obviously tried to hide, only given away by his pink cheeks, he smiled.
“I know, you wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at me,” He said as he gestured to his messy hair and beard. “But I haven’t had a blade to shave in years.” He wouldn’t have had the time, nor would he truly care to. To be honest, despite his occupation even as a barber, his hair was never the neatest.
“But as I was saying, I had a perfectly successful shop. It was never truly empty. People would come all over for how well I worked.” Harry never liked to brag, but you would have to be blind to deny the skills he had.
“Growing up, my home life was… Well, you could say it wasn’t pleasant, but my wife and her family showed me what it was like to be loved, to be wanted.” He scratched at his scarred hand, the emotions choking out his mouth as he spoke. “They encouraged me to open my shop.”
As Scorpios stood there enraptured with the story of his new friend, the dock got increasingly closer. The smell of smoke and horses cutting through the salty sea air.
“My wife’s name was Ginerva, but god how she hated it.” Harry whispered as he reminisced. “She preferred to be called Ginny, exactly the kind of lady my aunt would have hated. She was perfect.”
“We were only married for a few years, but even then it was full of bliss. Never a quiet moment in our house, it was always filled with laughter.” The smile on his suddenly turned to a frown as looked down. “I should have known.”
“Know what?” Scorpios asked curiously, voice low. But before any answer could be given, the older Malfoy interrupted.
“Scorpius! We’re about to reach the dock, get inside and prepare your luggage,” Draco called, a stern look across his aristocratic face. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Of course, father, I’ll be right there.”Scorpius, before turning back to Harry. “Do you think I’ll be able to visit you? I’ve quite enjoyed my time with you, despite the circumstances.”
“Of course.” Harry said with a warm smile. “I wouldn’t mind the least. You’ll most likely find me on Knockturn. Now carry on, you mustn’t leave your father waiting. He might blame me once again.” Scorpius groaned.
“I don’t know why he dislikes you so much.” Harry only shrugged and turned back towards the sea.
God, how London has changed, but he’ll bet the people are still as shit as they have always been.
As he grabs his few scant belongings, the familiar air of London brings him back to a better time, he could almost convince himself that the Weasley’s are out on the dock waiting for him, that his wife and child are wondering when he’ll get home, yet still going about their day. But when he thinks about it for too long, the daydream falls apart. No one’s going to wait sixteen years for him. He threw his small suitcase over his shoulder and left the ship.
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He walked down the cobbled street, his suitcase bouncing against his leg as he moved. He knew from experience that Knockturn was the cheapest in both rooms and hotels, but even as walked past the grimy buildings, he wanted to turn back. Still, he continued on.
He had not taken into account the hunger he would feel as he got off the boat, but it was staggering. He knew he had only enough for one night in a room, but the hunger gnawing at his stomach didn’t care for logic.
Just to be on the safe side, he passed all the small food stalls and restaurants that looked like they would cost more. Food poisoning be damned, he wasn’t going to be walking these streets penniless. It was as he was about to give up and go back to a stall he passed earlier when he saw a small shop with a pie and carrots displayed on its window. It looked a bit dirty and unkempt. The sign above the door was so faded, that what once might have read “Riddles”, now read, R_dd_es, the I and L missing.
The small bell above the door sprinkled rust atop Harry's head as he stepped into the shop. Before he could do much more than shake it off, a man came out from behind the counter holding a giant rolling pin positioned like he was about to beat someone with it. The tense look on the man quickly changed into a pleasant smile as he dropped his arms upon seeing harry.
“Sorry.” He chuckled, putting the pin down on his counter. “I thought you were someone else.” The information didn’t make Harry feel any better. He wasn’t sure if he felt safe alone in the room with a man prepared to beat someone with a rolling pin the size of a bat. Then again, he had spent years surrounded by criminals, but someone who doesn’t look dangerous are usually the ones you have to look out for.
“Uh, no, I’m just trying to buy myself some lunch.” He mumbled nervously, looking around the establishment. The inside was even worse than the outside. The tables seemed dusty, and the floor felt sticky as he stepped closer inside. He almost worried that if he were to sit on the table, it would collapse.
“Hmmm.” He hummed as he looked Harry up and down. “Must be new here, aren’t you?” Then he turned around and picked up the pin once again, making Harry take a step back.
“Why yes, I am. How’d you know?” Harry said as he searched for the most stable looking table.
“For one, you’re here. No one ever comes here unless they’re new in town.” At this Harry’s eyebrows raised.
“You really never get repeat customers?”
“Not unless they’re sick in the head, I’m sure only masochists enjoy my food.” Despite the grim words, the man, presumably a Riddle, was saying this all with a smirk. In the little time Harry had known him he had already clocked how odd he was. It was one thing to speak badly about one’s own establishment, but it was another to joke about it with no hint of dismay.
“You would think that with such bad business you would change the formula a bit. Ever thought of changing the recipe?” Harry said bluntly, he wasn’t meaning to be rude but it just seemed like common sense. The man only sighed, but even that seemed performative.
“Of Course, you would think, wouldn’t you? Don’t think me dim, I tried that before but the neighbors started to get uneasy when their cats started going missing. Good quality meat is expensive.” Harry wanted to take it as a joke but somehow the pout on his face didn’t seem fake. It was the first sign of actual dissatisfaction he’s seen on his face so far. “Ms. Figg almost burned the building down looking for her cats.” He shuddered in remembrance, as if he didn’t just imply he sold cat meat.
“If it’s such a problem I don’t think this job is right for you.” Truly Harry wasn’t trying to antagonize him, but you had to give him some slack, he hasn’t interacted with many in the last 16 years.
“I would change it if I could, I didn’t ask for this.” He said, now with a genuine frown. “I was an incoming politician before I ended up here. But that stupid man, Dumbledore-” He spit out like a curse. “-got in my way and got me fired. Banned even.”
Harry reared back at the name Dumbledore as if burned, but it went unnoticed. The man seemed to be in a frenzy with how fast his emotion changed.
“Have you ever heard the name Thomas Riddle? Bet you have!” The longer he talked the more cockney accent became prominent, which seemed to make the baker only angrier.
“He was my father, even got his name, but he didn’t care for me. When he found out about my unemployment all he did was give me his mothers failing shop.” He finally seemed to calm down at the end, then suddenly smiled at Harry as if all was right in the world. “And now I’m here.” But his eyes were still filled with such fiery anger.
“Of course, Mr. Riddle. I didn’t mean any harm by what I said.” Harry added softly, aware of the rolling pin still that was now back in his hand. Riddle turned around and started on the food, none premade supposedly.
“Of course you didn’t, many don’t but it doesn’t stop them from saying awful things does it.” He said, still in his pleasant voice.
It was quiet as the man worked and Harry stared down at the table, the silence suffocating. Harry was going to break the silence but was beaten to it a second later.
“What reason do you have to come here? Since you’re new and all.” He asked, as he seemed to finally be putting the food in the oven. He threw the dirty rag used for the oven over his shoulder and leaned on the counter to stare at him.
“I was at sea for the past few years, punishment.” Mr. Riddle hummed, seemingly interested.
“Oh, yes I’ve heard of someone near here getting that punishment. I think his name was Harrison Potter but I couldn’t be too sure, poor thing that happened to his family.” Then he shrugged and started wiping down the area with the same filthy rag.
Harry perked up in curiosity, So then there were rumors about them, he might find out where Ginny is!
“Do you know what happened to his family?” He may have sounded too eager because Riddle looked at him with shrewd eyes.
“Of course, it was the talk of the town. His wife was obviously bereft and at the time pregnant, so I’m sure that made it even more horrible.” Despite the topic, Harry noted that he said these words with a hint of contentment.
“Poor dear, she most likely died in childbirth because I never heard of her again. I was actually with her the day before she was due, you know.’’ He got down a cup from a shelf behind him and blew dust off before pouring ale into it.
“I had to leave though because she supposedly had a meeting with that horrid old man, Dumbledore. He had requested to meet her, she seemed reluctant but agreed.” He slammed the cup of ale in front of Harry with a flourish.
Harry didn’t react, stuck on the fact that his wife may have died, that his own child might not have made it.
“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice shaking, still very much in shock. “How can you be sure?” He didn’t want to believe, in fact he refused.
Again the shrewd eyes made an appearance, he looked over at him before turning away to go back to the oven . Harry was only now noticing that he didn’t order anything, he had no idea what was being made for him, what would the man have done if he had any sort of allergy to an ingredient. But then again, the man seemed like the type not to care if someone dropped dead in his shop.
“Of course I can’t be sure, she could have just simply moved away a day after birth, but I didn’t hear anything about it.” Now with it out of the oven Harry could see what was being made. He believed it to be, maybe, a meat pie? But it looked more like a pile of mud covered in cooked dough, very uneven and lumpy.
“Oh.” It was served to him on a plate that barely looked clean, and as he grabbed his fork he saw a roach crawl across the table, which Mr. Riddle immediately swiped off as if it was a speck of dirt. The man didn’t seem to make a big show of it but he did hear the crunch of his heel as he stepped down on, from context clues, the roach.
He tried to hide his grimace but he doubted it was successful, nonetheless Riddle didn’t even react. Just stared at him as he dug his fork into the messy pastry. He took a very careful bite and frowned. It tasted like chalk somehow.
“Terrible isn’t it.” And before he could answer he stood up. “Thought so.” Then without warning sat on the other side of the table and pushed his plate aside.
“You’re Mister Potter aren’t you.” He smiled as if he already knew the answer, all teeth and almost no kindness, none of it real. So Harry didn’t answer.
“Why don’t you come over back to my place, have a drink. I remember hearing you’re a barber, I have empty space on the second floor, to start again.” Then grabbed Harry’s hand to start pulling.
“Why are you offering this kindness?” Harry asked, he knew that it wasn’t often someone offered such a deal without an alternative motive. Riddle’s smile grew more brittle.
“Well, I’m guessing that other than me and you, there aren’t many who have reason to have deep hatred towards Albus Dumbledor.” At this Harry’s spine stiffened.
“How do you know about that?” As far as he was concerned, what happened wasn’t public knowledge.
“Why don’t we go have a drink while I tell you.” He pulled, and this time Harry conceded.
They walked into a parlor, which seemed to Harry as kind of dangerous. Any customer could just walk from their seats right into your home, He looked around and found it to be more than he expected, the couches were nice for someone with a failing business and everything was in neat order. On the wall he could see his graduate certificate with his full name, Tom Marvolol Riddle, and achievements he made throughout. It seemed that his home upkeep took priority over his shop.
“Have a seat and I’ll pour us a glass. ‘’ Harry sat on a dark green couch and continued to stare at the things around him.
“I wasn’t expecting such a clean room, at least when compared to the shop. You really don’t care about it, do you?” Harry has obviously never cared much for mincing his words.
“I guess in a way? I care about making enough to keep my house and live but really, if I had another way to make money I wouldn’t care if you burned it down.” He smirked as he put the drinks in front of harry. “My father would probably have a cow though, his mothers poor legacy reduced to ashes.” Harry, even more uncomfortable, took a drink.
He kicked back in the chair opposite Harry, glass in hand. “So go on.” He motioned towards him.
“Oh. Yes, you mentioned Dumbledore, I would like to know what made you think I have hatred for that man. You don’t just assume off the street do you?” Harry, only after stating this, looked down at the glass of whiskey, from what he could tell it seemed to be of high quality. Odd.
“Oh, I told you before, haven’t I?” He chuckled. “When people are in despair they love to blurt out their sorrows, alcohol or not.” He crossed one leg over the other and learned forward. “And Ginervas’ anguish was strong.”
“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.” Harry muttered with a frown, this man, despite his offer, seems to have little empathy.
“Is she really still your wife? It’s been sixteen years since then, and for all you know she can be dead.” Tom said with a shrug. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the anger from spilling out.
“It doesn’t matter.” He said through clenched teeth once he finally opened his eyes. “I still wish you wouldn’t speak about her like that.” Riddle didn’t respond, he only looked at him with his eyes narrowed and mouth crooked, almost as if he was trying not to smile. Then moved on like Harry hadn’t said anything at all.
“You also came here to ask about why I offered you the shop, no don’t deny it, so let’s talk about that. To put it plainly, it’s not only the Dumbledore thing, I wouldn’t just give a random off the street a job because of that. No. It’s because I know you’ll bring in more money.” At this Harry frowned.
“How in the seven hells am I going to make you more money? I got back from exile barely two hours ago, I have nothing.” The sharp smile was back, but with a bit more of a mocking edge.
“You may have no money but you do have skill. Greatest barber in town you were!” He got up and stood closer to Harry. Eyes shining with what looked like mania on his otherwise handsome face. “If people go to your shop, surely they’ll send their families to the closest and cheapest establishments nearby. When they hear about our partnership I’m who they’ll go to first.”
“Yeah, but you’re forgetting something.” Harry interrupted. Riddle raised an eyebrow. “Your cooking is not exactly fine dining, how much money could you truly make with that? And I thought you hated the place?”
“Of course I hate the place, but I’m not gonna waste a chance to make money when it’s sitting right in front of me. Have you no ambition?” Tom growled, but amusment still shone in his eyes. “I’ll find a way to make due with the meat, you don’t have to worry about it.” He said, as he sat back in his seat. Then muttered under his breath, “More pussy hunting, probably.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry mulling over the offer while Tom thought about ways to get more higher quality ingredients, none of his ideas were exactly morally correct but they might work.
“But I still need supplies don’t I? I can’t shave without blades and I have hardly enough money to buy myself lunch.” It was a true concern, but he was mostly saying it as an excuse. The opportunity seemed perfect on paper, but Mr. Riddle put him on edge. Yet Tom didn’t look deterred, in fact, Harry would think he looked even more satisfied.
“I’m not stupid, of course I didn’t forget, It’s actually part of why I offered.” He suddenly stood up and went over to a cabinet in the corner and took a big cardboard box out.
“Follow me.” He quickly walked out the room and back out into the shop. Harry put his glass down and got up to follow, Riddle’s longer legs making it a bit hard to catch up so he was always a couple steps ahead.
He walked out the store and up the stairs to the unused shop above the restaurant. Each step on the stairs creaked, making Harry frown, wondering if it was even stable enough to continuously go up and down. The building door opened with a ding and a small plume of dust.
“If you and I come to an agreement this is where you’ll be staying, enough room to start your own little barber shop again don’t you think?” He put the box on the table in the corner.
Meanwhile Harry looked around, despite its perceived lack of maintenance it was a pretty nice shop, it was open yet still had little windows allowing privacy and was probably the perfect size for a one man barber shop. He felt his resolve to deny melt away the longer he stood. Just imagining the place bustling with customers, showcasing his art and skill, it was enough to make him hope. Hope was a dangerous thing for a man like Harry.
Harry was quickly thrown out of his daydream with the sound of a leather box meeting wood. When he looked, his breath caught in his throat. There on the table, with Riddle’s hands around it was one of his most prized possessions.
Harry’s family left him a fortune but he wasn’t entitled to it until he turned eighteen but when he married at seventeen he was yet unaware of the money. As a surprise his wife’s family, who even compared to Harry wasn’t well off, raised enough money to buy him a state of the art leather barber kit, name engraved and all.
He walked forward and opened it, reverent as he did so, and slowly lifted one of the blades up so that the sun shining in through the curtain-less windows made it glint, temporarily blinding Tom in the process.
“How did you get these?” He whispered, still admiring the blade. Tom, who at the moment was rubbing his eyes from the attack, grunted.
“Are you dim? I told you I talked to Ginerva, didn’t I?” He grabbed the knife from Harry’s hand and put it back in its place. “She gave me a few things of yours before she went to see Dumbledore.”
“Why? I have never heard her mention of you before? Why would she trust you?” It didn’t make sense, he knew that Ginny wasn’t as sentimental as him but surely she wouldn’t just give their stuff to a stranger.
“Does it really matter how long I’ve known her? This happened a year after your incarceration of course she wouldn’t be able to tell you.” Tom started to pull more familiar things out of the boxes. Brushes, combs, scissors and for some reason even a cookie jar that was given as a housewarming gift.
“So you were close?” Harry muttered as he started to go through the objects from the box, pocketing some. But Tom’s sly chuckle distracted him.
“You can say she was over often, talking about her woes and bringing all her problems to me.” Again the dislike of the man came back, the way he mentioned Ginny made him feel unsettled.
“So what do you think?” He learned forward over the closed box of his blades towards Harry, a smile sweet enough for an angel but somehow it still felt like making a deal with the devil. But other than his gut feeling this would probably be perfect, at least before he was able to repossess his bank account.
Harry grimaced but looked towards his blades, because it just might be worth it.
“I’ll do it.” Riddle’s eyes brightened and his angelic smile twitched, as if wanting to widen further. Then it suddenly dropped.
“You’re still gonna have to pay for the pie.”