Chapter 1
It wasn't very often Harry Potter found himself walking the corridors of Hogwarts alone.
He was almost always accompanied by either Ron, Hermione, or both. They may have only become friends one year ago, during Harry's first year, but the three of them were inseparable. Though it was much too embarrassing to ever say out loud, they truly were the family Harry never had.
And so the fact that - at least for the time being - neither of them were around was quite out of the ordinary.
It was all because McGonagall had made Ron come to her office - not because he was in trouble, but because she was concerned about his broken wand. It had been snapped during their unconventional arrival by flying car, earlier that year. Harry was glad someone was taking action concerning Ron's wand - he didn't want to see any more puke slugs, ever - but he didn't like that it meant Ron was unavailable for the rest of the evening. Hermione was, predictably, studying in the library. Harry supposed he could join her, but that just didn't seem like very much fun.
So, he took to exploring the corridors. He liked to think of it as 'exploring,' because it sounded a little bit cooler than 'wandering,' despite the fact that the latter term might be more accurate.
Harry passed the bathroom belonging to Moaning Myrtle, but stopped short when he heard a voice coming from it.
He could only make out snippets of what the voice was saying.
"Don't want…you take it…leaving…"
Suddenly, the door swung open and a ruffled looking Ginny Weasley appeared.
"Hi," Harry said.
Upon seeing Harry, she went pink, and ran the other direction.
Harry rolled his eyes. When would Ron's sister would start acting normal around him?
He wandered closer to the bathroom door, wondering what Ginny could have been doing in there.
If it were any other bathroom in the school, that would have sounded weird. But this was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and, according to Hermione, no one actually uses the bathroom there.
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was around, Harry slipped inside.
Instantly, he was bombarded with the very loud, whiny presence of Moaning Myrtle.
"Why can't everyone just leave me alone?" she wailed, before peering over her glasses to get a look at him. "Oh…it's you."
"Hi Myrtle," Harry said. He had met Moaning Myrtle once before, earlier that year, when Hermione wanted to prove to Harry and Ron just how strange she was. They had made a day of it.
"That girl was so rude, taunting me, like I'm some freak!" Myrtle let out a sob.
Harry began to regret entering the bathroom.
"That doesn't sound like Ginny," he began cautiously. "What happened?"
"She came in here with a fancy looking ring, but she looked at it like it was something foul," Myrtle sniffed. "So she threw it towards me and said that I could have it. I guess she forgot that I can't- that I can't pick it up!"
She broke off into another round of pitiful whimpers. Harry winced at the noise.
"Where is it?" Harry asked.
"Oh wouldn't you like to know?" she responded, eyes flooded with angry tears. "No, 'I'm sorry to hear that Myrtle,' no 'you don't deserve that,' just 'well, where's the ring?'"
Harry stopped listening a while ago, instead searching for the strange ring she spoke of. He wondered what reason Ginny could possibly have to throw a ring away in a bathroom. Did she really hate it that much? Harry thought that perhaps it was a very ugly ring.
Just as Harry began to entertain himself with mental images of all sorts of tacky, hideous rings, he spotted it.
Gleaming, on the floor under the sink, was but a small, gold ring. Elegant, yet simple, with a black stone in the center of it, engraved with a strange marking of a triangle, circle, and a line.
He felt it call to him, an invisible string pulling him closer. Almost unconsciously, he stepped towards it.
"And now you're ignoring me!" Moaning Myrtle whimpered. "Miserable Mopey Myrtle's not worth any of your time, is she?"
Harry bent down, and scooped the ring up in his palm. It was oddly warm to the touch.
Curiosity getting the best of him, he pocketed it.
"Well, it was nice seeing you Myrtle."
XXX
He retired to his dormitory early that night, with nothing better to do seeing as Ron was still unavailable. None of his other roommates were around either, meaning Harry had the whole room to himself.
With no one else around to distract him, it was no wonder that his mind wandered to the mysterious ring from earlier.
Harry wasn't usually particularly interested in jewelry. Especially not a piece of jewelry that was so strangely off-putting. It reminded him of something his Aunt Petunia would wear for fancy dinner parties. If not for Ginny's strange aversion to it, he wouldn't have paid the thing any mind.
But he was painfully curious - what did Ginny find so terrible about this little ring?
Harry turned it over and over in his hand, in the hopes that doing so would cause it to reveal its nefarious intentions. But it did no such thing.
So naturally, the next step was to try it on.
Feeling a little foolish, and eyeing the door to make sure none of his roommates were about to walk in on him, Harry slipped the ring on his finger-
-and subsequently vanished.
It was the strangest sensation, almost like falling, his stomach dropping with the weightlessness of it. As soon as it started he landed, his feet slamming against solid ground.
Once the dizziness had subsided, Harry took in the world around him.
He stood in a large, cozy room, not unlike Gryffindor common room with many splashes of red and gold entwined in the decor. Upon closer inspection, some of the armchairs and tables truly did come directly from the common room. Other pieces seemed vaguely familiar to Harry as well, and it took him a few seconds to recognize them as things he's seen at the Burrow; paintings, posters, and even the Weasley family clock. And yet, in the midst of all this familiarity, other items were completely unknown. Particularly, the luxurious throne that sat in the middle of the room, looking awfully soft with its fuzzy texture.
Something brushed up against Harry’s leg, and he startled, glancing down to see the cutest cat he’s ever seen, leagues cuter than the ones at Mrs. Figgs' house. The orange, fluffy thing padded through the room leisurely before leaping up on a great window sill, overlooking a white sand beach.
"Hello," a voice said, behind him.
Harry jumped, turning around as fast as he could. Standing there, was a pale, dark-haired boy.
He looked to be a bit older than Harry, probably a fifth or sixth year, judging by his height. Straight away, Harry noticed the Slytherin tie the boy wore, which reminded him rather unpleasantly of his arch nemesis, Draco Malfoy - though, the tie was far more faded and worn than anything Draco Malfoy had in his closet. But the most intriguing thing about the boy was not his age or his outfit, but the fact that he wasn’t quite there.
He was slightly blurry, as if Harry were viewing him through a thick fog. At first Harry thought he must be a ghost, but that didn’t seem right either.
“Who are you?” Harry asked. “Where am I?”
“My name’s Tom Riddle,” the boy said, a bright, charming smile plastered on his face. “I see you’ve stumbled upon my ring.”
Tom nodded towards the ring on Harry’s finger.
“Er yeah,” Harry said. “It was in the bathroom.”
Tom’s right eye twitched. “Yes. My last…owner didn’t seem to appreciate me very much. She wasn’t grateful for the gifts I gave her, so she threw me away.”
“Who, Ginny?” Harry asked, frowning. “That doesn’t really sound like something she’d do.”
“Well, it’s all in the past,” Tom hurried to say, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. “Now you are the owner of my ring, and I have a feeling we’re going to get along much better.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the ring-boy before him with many questions swirling in his mind. “Um, not to be rude, but what exactly… are you?”
“Well, I suppose you could say that I am the ring. I know it’s difficult to comprehend, but I merely take the form of a Hogwarts student to appear more welcoming. In reality, I am an Enchanted Ring whose sole purpose is to give the wearer whatever their heart desires. I will do the same for you, should you only ask me to,” Tom explained.
“So you’re like…a genie?” Harry asked, feeling uncomfortable at the concept.
Tom’s expression flickered with the slightest hint of a wince. “No,” he said firmly, his smile a bit more forced. “I am no genie, though I do grant wishes.”
Just as Harry opened his mouth to ask all the other questions plaguing him, Tom silenced him with a statement of his own.
“Every part of this place, to the smallest detail, was created by me,” Tom said quietly, gesturing around the room. “It was all for dear Ginny, in the hopes to make her happy. And yet, after all I did for her, she still left, leaving me to rot. She said there was nothing I could give her that she didn’t already have.”
Tom scoffed, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, everything that gave the room life - every piece of furniture, every painting, every window, even the cat - disappeared, leaving it completely barren. Just four grey walls.
“She was mistaken, of course. I truly could give her anything,” Tom said, bitter. “But I do respect those not so tied down by material possessions.”
Harry couldn’t help but stare at the place the cat had been moments ago, before Tom had stripped the room.
“What about you?” Tom asked.
Harry took a moment to respond, confused by the question. “What about me?”
“What do you want most in the world?” Tom asked, tilting his head to the side. His tone was casual, and yet Harry couldn't help but detect a weight to the question. “I don’t see you as being very driven by material things either.”
“Er, I don’t really know.”
Tom waved his hand, and in the center of the empty room a mirror appeared. Harry instantly recognized it as the Mirror of Erised from his first year. From where it stood, Harry had a clear view of the woman and man inside it, smiling at him, pure love radiating off of them. His parents.
“Well, what do you see?” Tom asked again, light and friendly.
Harry swallowed, averting his eyes.
“Dumbledore says that mirror is dangerous,” Harry said, forcing himself to look at Tom, no matter how much his parent’s faces tempted him.
Tom stilled, unblinking as he observed Harry. “Oh?” he asked, with the same inflection he would have if Harry had told him the weather. “Well, perhaps that’s true in some cases, but there’s no harm in knowing what you want, Harry. So why don’t you tell me?”
A cold chill passed through Harry’s veins. “How did you know my name?”
Tom paused, the smile falling from his face momentarily, before it returned with full force as he let out a laugh. “Oh, come now, Harry. Surely you’re aware that your fame is known to even inanimate objects such as myself!”
Harry’s face heated. It was just his luck that even Enchanted Rings knew his status as the boy-who-lived.
“Now, really, Harry. What’s the harm in telling me what you see?” Tom coerced, stepping closer.
Harry chewed on his bottom lip. “I see my parents.”
Tom nodded seriously, something flashing in his eyes. “Of course,” he murmured. “Well, what if I told you that I could bring them back to you?”
Harry’s heart did a funny sort of leap, somewhere in between hope and mistrust, excitement and pain.
Warily, Harry let his gaze drop once more to the Slytherin tie around Tom's neck. “Dumbledore says that no spell can bring back the dead.”
“Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore!” Tom exclaimed, running a hand through his perfect hair. Harry’s eyes flicked back to Tom’s face, surprised by the outburst. Tom cleared his throat, pulling himself together. “Dumbledore does not know everything.”
Harry resisted the urge to take a step back. Something was off about Tom - something about the way he could switch from frustrated to perfectly civil in a matter of seconds. Something was wrong.
“I understand your...hesitation,” Tom allowed, making a clear effort to act calm as he began studying his fingernails. “But it's the truth. I can bring them back.”
Could he? The prospect of seeing his parents sparked an onslaught of heavy, confusing emotions inside him. His chest tightened, and his stomach twisted in pain. As the feelings grew too much, Harry was forced to breathe in a deep, shuddering breath to contain them.
“You're lying,” Harry said, though it didn't come out as a statement as much as a hoarse question.
“I'm not,” Tom denied, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Simply ask me for them, and I will make them appear for you.”
His heart stuttered, all excitement and nerves. He crossed his arms to keep them from shaking.
Was it possible that Tom was telling the truth? That all he had to do was ask and he'd see his parents for the very first time?
The words popped into his head, catching in his throat. The two words he would have to say. Mum and dad.
Dumbledore’s voice came to mind next, his warning not to dwell on dreams and forget to live. But it sounded weak against the wave of hope building in him.
Maybe Tom was right. Surely Dumbledore couldn't know everything.
“Go on…” Tom urged, barely louder than a whisper. “Say it. Ask for them. I wouldn't want to grant you a wish you didn’t explicitly ask for, after all. ”
“But,” Harry said, his mouth feeling dry. “I don't know…I don't even know what I'd talk to them about.”
“No, you don't know,” Tom's voice was rather soothing, and Harry thought that, perhaps Tom did understand. “But don't you want to find out?”
Harry inhaled deeply, and then let the words escape him before he could change his mind. “I want to see my parents.”
Tom smiled, victorious, and made an elegant wave of his hand.
There was a terrifying pause in which nothing happened. For just a moment, Harry's stomach pooled with dread at the thought that Tom was lying.
But then, just as Tom promised, they appeared. Right before his eyes, his mother and father materialized; James Potter with his glasses and messy, dark hair so similar to Harry’s, and Lily Potter with long, vibrant red hair and those green eyes that Harry had heard so much about.
They weren’t ghosts, though they weren’t fully physical either, similar to Tom’s wispy, foggy form.
Just seeing the pair of them sent a foreign and yet comforting warmth straight to his heart.
Ever since Harry was young, he had a fantasy just like this. It had always been a source of comfort for him, back when he was still that unwanted boy in the cupboard. In his fantasy, meeting his parents was the most exciting thing ever. He would run into their arms, and they would hold him tight and tell him how much they loved him.
Now, however, Harry didn’t think he could run if he wanted to. He was trembling from head to toe, and even though he wrapped his arms around himself he couldn’t hide it. His heart pounded hard, and his mouth went dry, rendering him speechless.
Even if he could speak, he would never be able to find the right words to say.
Luckily, Lily Potter broke the silence. She saved him from the uncertainty just as she saved his life as a baby all those years ago.
“Oh, Harry,” she breathed, teary. “Oh, my Harry.”
She crossed the space between them in two strides, pulling him close to her. Though she didn't look quite physical, she certainty felt it. Harry hid his face on her shoulder, fighting a losing battle against the emotion welling up inside him, threatening to break free.
A moment later Harry felt another hand on his back, and even though he can’t remember ever having felt it before, he knew it belonged to his father, James Potter, coming to stand beside them.
“It’s okay,” Lily murmured, as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m here now. I love you.”
Harry made a small noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he realized that perhaps this wasn’t so different from his fantasy after all.
A voice to his right interrupted the moment with one mocking word.
“Touching,” Tom drawled.
Angrily, Harry pulled away from James and Lily and whipped his head towards Tom. Why would he try to ruin Harry’s mood, when he was the one who gifted his parents to him in the first place? It was no wonder Ginny threw him away, if Tom was the type of person to taunt someone during such a personal moment.
But Tom had already walked away from them, his back facing Harry. Harry’s anger dissipated. It seemed that the taunt slipped Tom’s mouth without his meaning to.
Either way, it wasn't worth addressing. He turned back to his parents.
“Hi,” Harry breathed, feeling suddenly self-conscious as they trained their eyes on him. Never in his life had he had this experience. To have two adults focus all their attention on him, as if he were the most important thing in the world to them - as if they loved him - it was almost too much.
“Hello sweetheart,” Lily said, gently. Again her eyes welled up with tears. “It’s been so long. So much time, we’ll never get back.”
“You’ll have to fill us in,” James added. “Surely you have lots of crazy stories to tell from all the years we missed.”
Harry briefly thought about his last year at Hogwarts, when he was almost murdered by Lord Voldemort. Somehow he didn’t think this was the type of story his parents would want to hear.
“I don’t really have any crazy stories,” Harry said with a shrug, hoping to derail this topic of conversation.
Strangely enough, neither parent pressed for a different answer.
“Well then, what do you like to do for fun?”
“I like to fly.”
James Potter’s smile widened like he just received the most exciting news of his entire life. Lily had a similar reaction.
“You do?”
“Of course he does! He’s our son.” Lily laughed at James, before focusing on Harry once more. “I like to fly too.”
Harry’s chest warmed at the thought of his mother sharing the same interests as him.
“If only we could go flying now,” James said, mournfully.
“Actually, maybe we can.” Harry thought about what Tom said, about how he could give him anything he wanted.
He glanced around the room and spotted Tom in the corner. He was crossing his arms, watching James and Lily silently. It took a moment before he noticed Harry looking his way.
“Could you-”
He didn’t let Harry finish his question. “Yes, yes, I heard you.”
Three broomsticks materialized on the ground between them. The room grew larger, expanding vertically until Harry could no longer see the ceiling. And gone were the dull, grey walls - instead grass sprung up under his feet and above him formed a clear, blue sky. Next came three balls - a Quaffle, a Bludger, and of course a Golden Snitch which already shot to the sky, zooming out of reach.
Harry watched the sight in complete awe. He had never seen such a grand feat of magic performed before. He didn’t know something like this was even possible.
Then again, he did only find out he was a wizard last year.
“What are you waiting for?” his father called. Both him and his mother had already mounted their brooms and were jetting through the sky.
Harry wasted no time in joining them.
XXX
There were no words to describe the feeling - light and warm and absolutely exhilarating - and Harry knew it wasn’t caused by the flying. Being so close to his parents for the first time in his memory made him never want to leave them.
“Another game of Find the Snitch?” James asked. With only three people, they couldn't really play a game of Quidditch, but they still had plenty of fun playing different variations of catch. They had been going at it for hours, laughing and chasing each other through the air.
As fun as that sounded, Harry declined. “I’m actually getting a bit tired.”
“Then we’ll land,” Lily said at once.
As the three of them returned to the ground, their surroundings shifted once more. The outdoors faded away and in its place appeared a very cozy-looking bedroom - soft carpet, a crackling fireplace, and a large bed.
Just standing near the comfortable place made Harry yawn. Lily took one hand and James took the other and together they guided him towards the bed.
Harry wanted nothing more than to let them tuck him into bed, to fall asleep whilst never letting go of their hands.
Only…
“What time is it?” Harry asked, something important stirring at the back of his mind.
Lily and James looked vaguely confused by the question. Tom must have noticed the newfound tension, because he came up beside them, making his presence known for the first time in a while.
“Why, Harry, what’s the matter?” he asked.
Harry wasn't sure why this suddenly was such a big deal to him. He wanted to spend as much time with his parents as possible, right? But for the first time since stepping into the Ring World, he wondered about real life, back in his dormitory. Surely, Ron was back from McGonagall's office now. What if he was looking for him?
“What time is it?” Harry repeated.
Tom considered him for a moment. “Nearly three in the morning now.”
Had he really been in here for that many hours? It hadn't felt that long.
Harry started to ask another question, but before he could, Lily beat him to it.
“Who are you?” she asked, staring at Tom. James followed her example, observing the Slytherin teen questioningly.
“Tom Riddle,” he said. “I'm the controller of this world, of everything you see. I'm the one who brought you here and reunited you with your son.”
“You control all of this? You created all of this?” James gestured around him.
Tom blinked, caught off guard by the redundant question. “Yes.”
“Incredible!” James exclaimed.
“That's really impressive,” Lily added, just as awestruck as her husband. “How old are you?”
Tom's dark eyes flicked from Lily to James rapidly, suspicious of their praise and trying to detect whether or not they were being genuine.“Sixteen,” he answered eventually.
“Amazing!” Lily gushed. At some point, she and James must've dropped Harry's hands, because now she reached out to take both of Tom's in both of hers.
Tom didn't resist the hand-holding, likely because it occurred too fast for him to attempt to avoid. Instead he froze. Utter bewilderment flooded across his face - his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.
Harry might’ve found the expression funny under a different circumstance, but he couldn't find it in him now, not with how strangely his parents were acting.
He turned to his father, only to find him staring at Tom with the same admiring gaze as his mother. A sharp, uncomfortable feeling twisted inside Harry's chest. A feeling he hadn't felt since he was very young, watching his Aunt Petunia dote on Dudley whilst paying Harry no mind. What was going on?
“Such amazing magic for someone so young!” Lily went on. “You must be very powerful!”
Tom went rather pink at the praise. A tiny, delicate smile wormed its way onto his lips - worlds different from the large, fake, overly polite smile he wore earlier.
“Are you kidding? He made an entire Quidditch Pitch earlier out of nothing!” James proclaimed. “Powerful doesn't begin to cut it!”
Tom was beside himself, so thrilled he couldn't even form a sentence. “I- thank- well, I suppose I am fairly-”
“I want to leave,” Harry interrupted. All three heads turned to him. “I've already been gone too long, and my friends will start to worry.”
“Yes,” Tom said, clearing his throat and pulling his hands away from Lily. “Yes, that's fine, Harry. Just be sure to return tomorrow. To leave you only need to pull off the ring.”
Harry glanced down at his hand, where the gold band adorned his finger. He didn’t look back up into his parents faces. He couldn’t.
Saying goodbye was far too awkward. But he didn’t really need to. After all, he’d be back tomorrow, just as Tom said.
Before he could regret it, he pulled the ring off his finger, and once more his stomach dropped with the sensation of falling.
Harry landed in his bed, the ring lying beside him, the black stone glinting at him.