Love and Compassion

"Happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to youu, happy birthday dear Tom! Happy birthday to youuu," Harry sang, a huge grin on his face as he brought a large cupcake with a candle towards Tom.

It was Tom's eleventh birthday, and they were currently in Switzerland. Harry had a two-week training camp as well as two matches there, and of course, he had taken Tom along. 

On the days he had off, they would explore both the magical and muggle side of Switzerland together, having the best adventures and gorging themselves on a variety of different Swiss chocolate and cheese. 

Just last night they had hiked up to Rigi Mountain and were currently camping in their charmed tent, which had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small kitchenette, and a sitting area, which they were currently in. They had plans to spend Tom's birthday hiking around the mountain to find the Swedish Short-Snout Dragon, which had apparently been spotted in the mountains in Switzerland a few weeks ago.

Harry was positive they wouldn't find the twenty-two-foot beast, but Tom had developed a fascination for dragons and was determined to glimpse one. Even if they didn't, Harry thought it would be a good, fun and memorable way to spend your eleventh birthday.  

Harry wanted Tom's birthdays to always be special, in a way that his never were.  

"Make a wish," Harry grinned, handing Tom the cupcake.

Tom closed his eyes, murmuring something quietly before blowing out the candle.

"What did you wish for?"

"You ask me that every year, and I always say the same thing. I can't tell you otherwise it won't come true," Tom replied, taking a swipe of the frosting on his finger and licking it.

"I know," Harry smirked, ruffling his hair. "I just like teasing you. Do you want to open your present now?"

"Yes!"

Harry handed Tom an envelope that contained tickets for Tom and two friends (plus Harry) to go to have an exclusive tour at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. It had cost Harry a fortune, but since this was their last birthday trip before Tom went off to Hogwarts, he had decided it was worth it.

Moreover, Harry wanted to encourage Tom's interests in the hope of pushing him away from a career as a dark lord that terrorises people and into something interesting like being a dragon trainer. Harry was sure that the old Tom Riddle never had the opportunity to explore his real interests or have any real hobbies because he was too busy worrying about death and poverty. But this Tom had a chance; he was in a loving environment where he could do fun things like tour a dragon sanctuary, and he had the opportunity to study them.

Harry hoped that the fact that he had options and wasn't forced to live in a run-down orphanage where he was starved, called a freak, and surrounded by a war-torn London would change Tom's outcome.

Tom jumped up, his eyes shining in excitement as he threw his arms around Harry's midsection.  

"Thank you so much! When can we use them?"

"They're for next week. Who will you bring?"

"Lestrange-"

"Obviously."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean obviously?"

"As much as I know you hate to admit it since you insist you don't have friends, Lestrange is obviously your best friend."

Out of all of Tom's 'friends', Claude Lestrange was the one who Tom complained about the least. Whenever they were together, it was clear that Tom valued Claude; they were practically joined at the hip, and Claude's birthday was the only birthday that Tom put any sort of effort into. For the rest of his friend's birthdays, Tom would order them something nice but generic, but for Claude, Tom would make an effort to get him something personal that he would genuinely like.  

Back in Harry's timeline, the Lestrange brothers were clearly Voldemort's most trusted followers. Harry wondered if it was due to their father, Claude, and if Claude had insisted his two sons show absolute loyalty to Voldemort. 

After his travels, very few people knew Voldemort had been Tom Riddle, but Harry wondered if Claude had known.

"Don't be ridiculous. Best friends are juvenile, and I am far too mature for that. I'm eleven now," Tom insisted, frowning.

"Yes, because eleven is the pinnacle of maturity," Harry snorted.

Tom elbowed Harry playfully in the ribs. "Shut up. Claude isn't my best friend; he is my most trusted ally and often the only one with a brain. I suppose I should bring Abraxas or Alphard too, and it would be funny to watch them fight over themselves to get invited."

"Why don't you invite Fleamont? He likes dragons too, and we haven't seen him since the summer before he went off to Hogwarts. He's home for the winter holidays; I think it'd be fun!" Harry suggested hastily.  

Abraxas may only be a child, but he was completely insufferable at times. Whenever Harry was around the boy, he had to hold his tongue and stop himself from snapping at him as Abraxas sprouted the most outrageous and dreadful rhetoric Harry had encountered. Almost 90% of what Abraxas said was a mixture of sexism, anti-muggle, or just complete self-absorbed nonsense.  

Harry had no idea how Tom tolerated him. He was like Draco Malfoy but a hundred times worse.  

However, Harry liked Alphard. He was like a less mischievous version of Sirius and the only one of Tom's friends who seemed kind and compassionate. He was very friendly and talkative. Harry enjoyed being around him. 

Nevertheless, Harry had a softer spot for Fleamont, whom he believed was a good influence on Tom.

"Yes, I suppose we can invite Fleamont," Tom announced as if he were doing him a favour.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Right, eat your cake, then off to bed. We've got a very busy day tomorrow."

"Yes, we do," Tom grinned. "If we spot the dragon, we have to take a photo of it. There's been no actual proof of the dragon around this mountain for almost seventy years. We could be famous if we have proof."

"I'm already famous," Harry smirked, doing his best to make his voice full of self-importance.

"For something worthwhile, not for riding around on a broom," Tom replied, this time rolling his eyes.

"Hey!"

"It's like Mrs. Malfoy said, Quidditch is more of a hobby than a career. Discovering dragons is an acceptable accomplishment; it will put us in the history books."

Harry scooped Tom up, tickling him, "You're such a little brat!"

"Harry! Get off!" Tom gasped, trying and failing to hold in his laughter as he attempted to squirm out of Harry's hold.

"Never!" Harry declared, laughing himself. 

~~~~~~~~

They spent over six hours hiking around the mountain the next day in hopes of spotting the dragon but unfortunately never encountered it.

Despite that, Tom still had an excellent time.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, Harry officially finished his training and matches in Switzerland, and they were able to take a port key back home.

Tom had immediately insisted they head to Ollivanders, eager to get his wand. 

Abraxas already had his since his birthday was in September, as did Claude, whose birthday was in November, so Tom would be the third one in their group to get one.

Felix's (Yaxley) birthday was in July, and Alphard's was in May. 

"Harry, hurry up. What's taking you so long?" Tom demanded from outside Harry's bedroom. 

He had insisted he had to change clothes, which made absolutely no sense as Harry never cared about how he looked; he wore muggle jeans that were ill-fitting and fraying at the ends. Fashion clearly wasn't ever in Harry's mind.  

Harry came hurrying out of the room, his face flushed red and avoiding Tom's eye. "I think I'm going to have to get a new wand too," Harry declared, his voice unnecessarily loud.

"What?" Tom frowned, confused. "Why?"

"Something went wrong with the port key. I think my wand splinched."

"How? Let me see."

Harry waved his hand, almost accidentally smacking Tom in the face. "Oh, don't bother. It's fine. It's beyond repair; I'll just get a new one."

"You seem awfully unbothered about your broken wand; I would've thought you'd be more upset. Wands are deeply personal to wizards."

"Of course I'm upset!"

Tom narrowed his eyes; Harry was lying.  

Tom always knew when people were lying to him. He was a natural Legilimens. He couldn't enter people's thoughts yet, but he was able to tell when he was being lied to. Not that he needed his gift to tell that Harry was lying, as he was abysmal at it anyway. But Tom had no idea why Harry was lying.

Why did he want a new wand? 

"Fine. Can we go now?" Tom demanded after a few seconds of intense silence.  

Harry seemed to melt in relief, glad the questioning was over.

"Yes, come on. We will have to take the floo."

~~~~~~~

*The shop was narrow and shabby, with peeling gold letters over the door of the shop read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

*The shop's display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it.

It looked underwhelming and cluttered, but it still had such a special feeling; the shop was pulsing with magical warmth, and Tom couldn't help the burst of excited anticipation he felt as they made their way to the counter.

Garrick Ollivander was a short man, slightly hunched with silvery hair and beady silver eyes that shone with intelligence.

"Ah, Mr. Potter and your young charge, Mr. Gaunt, I presume?" Ollivander said, coming towards the counter. 

Harry took a step back, his eyes wide as he gripped Tom's arms tightly. "H-how did you kno-"

"You are incredibly famous, Mr. Potter, arguably the best seeker in the world. It is rare to not see you gracing some newspaper for either your skill or charity work. I would argue almost everyone in wizarding Britain knows who you are," Ollivander replied, bemused.

Tom shot Harry a confused look of his own, perplexed as to why he was lying about his wand and why he was acting so antsy. He looked seconds away from bolting out the shop. 

"What is wrong with you?" Tom hissed, shaking himself out of Harry's grip. "Have you gone mad?"

Harry shook his head, a wry smile on his face as he visibly relaxed. "My apologies; I've had a very long two weeks, so I'm very...tired. We've come to get a wand for Tom and myself."

"Yourself?"

"Yes, I recently broke mine."

"Oh! Well, I also do repairs. You're more than welcome to bring your wand in and-"

"-I threw it away."

This time both Tom and Ollivander looked at Harry's incredulously.

"What?" Harry snapped, his voice defensive and agitated.

Tom opened his mouth, ready to point out that he was clearly lying and that the lie was a ridiculous one. What type of wizard just threw away their wands? Wands were incredibly personal, an extension of yourself. If your wand broke, you'd do anything in your power to get it fixed.

Moreover, while Harry always forked out plenty of money for Tom, he barely ever bought himself anything. He wore the same oversized ratty clothing. He had two fancy dress robes (due to Tom's insistence), but he had bought them two and a half years ago, still alternating between the two if he had somewhere fancy to go. 

He never bought himself anything. He even cut his own hair! So it seems absurd that Harry would 'throw away' his wand without trying to get it fixed, so ready to buy himself a new one.

However, before Tom could speak, Ollivander interrupted him.

"Okay, not a problem, Mr. Potter. Mr. Gaunt, why don't we start with you?"

After what seemed like forever, trying countless wands, Tom finally found one that felt right. When Tom murmured a spell, it worked instantly; Tom could feel the magic pulsing through him to the wand.

The feeling was indescribable.

* "13½" long, crafted from yew, and affixed with a phoenix feather core. This is the rarest core type; the feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they can be a little temperamental at times. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won, but it seems like you have tamed it very well, Mr. Gaunt," Ollivander explained, his eyes curious as Tom swished his wand, another spell being perfectly executed.

To hear that his wand core was rare made Tom flush with pleasure, although he tried to keep his face expressionless. 

Just another confirmation of how special he was. 

"Mr. Potter, let's get you sorted then."

If Tom thought his wand took long to choose him, it was nothing compared to Harry's. It felt like Harry had gone through almost every wand in the store.

"Hmm," Ollivander looked thoughtfully between Harry and Tom. "I have an idea; it may not work, but I want to test my theory. Just a moment." 

Ollivander disappeared round the back for around a minute before he came back and passed Harry a wand. It looked remarkably similar to his old one, Tom noted.

Harry hadn't even fully gotten a spell out before it worked.

"How curious. Your wand is 11" long, made of holly, and possesses a phoenix feather core, which is very unusual as they don't typically work well together. But what is more curious is that both yours and Mr. Gaunt's wands are brother wands. The only two in the world, made up of a feather from the same phoenix. It symbolises a great connection between the two of you, both of you harvesting very unique and powerful wands," Ollivander explained, looking at them both in wonder.

Tom's heart squeezed at his words, his hands itching to dig themselves deep into Harry's arm. To leave a physical possessive imprint.

Yes.

Yes.

This was proof of how much Harry and Tom were irrecoverably tied together, proof of how much Harry's very being belonged to Tom. Their souls were intertwined, two halves of the same coin.

Tom took a step closer to Harry, his eyes wide and dark as he resisted the urge to bite Harry, whose face was flushed. He wanted to taste his blood, to have another part of Harry that was linked to him.

~~~~~~~~~

After Ollivanders, as a treat, they went to get some ice cream to celebrate at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

"That looks sickly," Harry said, scrunching up his nose at Tom's six-tier ice cream tower.

"It's delicious," Tom replied, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Harry's weird behaviour had been completely forgotten in Tom's excitement at finally having his own wand and finding out that Tom and Harry's wand was connected.

He couldn't imagine anything ruining his cheerful mood.

This was the second-best day of his life!

"Maybe you shouldn't eat so much. Too much sugar isn't good for kids; it makes them hyperactive. According to my parenting books anyway."

"Harry, when have I ever been hyperactive?" Tom asked, raising a brow. "I would never be as unseemly to be hyper of all things."

Harry rolled his eyes, but Tom noticed that he struggled to contain his smile. "Well, normal children then, and which eleven-year-old uses the word unseemly?"

"Those with good standing in society, I've heard Abraxas use it plenty of times," Tom pointed out.

"Well, if Abraxas is doing it, it must be correct because Septimus would've told him to. The kid’s like a mini robot; he was wearing a three-piece suit when I dropped you off at his house the other day!"

"It was his birthday."

"So? He turned eleven, not forty!"

Tom really didn't understand why Harry seemed to dislike Abraxas and Septimus so much. Yes, Abraxas's bragging could be tiresome, and his arrogance was grating at times, but he was very smart, incredibly polite to Harry, and was nowhere as openly fanatic as Yaxley or Walburga when it came to being a blood purist.

Walburga refused to even be in the same vicinity as a muggle, convinced they'd impart some type of disease to her. Tom almost felt sorry for any muggle-borns that encountered her in Hogwarts; sure she was terrorising them. 

"Holding a grudge against someone ten years younger than you seems very petty and not very kind, which is ironic since you're always harping on about being nice and loving everyone," Tom pointed out with a smirk.

"I don't have a grudge against Abraxas! It's his father I have an issue with. I don't like the things he teaches him," Harry insisted, although his cheeks had reddened.

"Sureeee," Tom teased, laughing.

"You're such an arse," Harry grumbled, poking Tom in the side.

"First unkind words and now bodily harm—what happened to Saint Potter? You're really not showing me the best example."

Harry shot Tom an annoyed look before a mischievous smile took over his features.

Tom shifted nervously, not liking the look on Harry's face; it screamed up to no good, and then, to Tom's shock, Harry took a dollop of his ice cream and flicked it at him. The ice cream landed in the middle of his forehead.

"Harry!" Tom gasped, stunned. 

He turned around, ensuring that no one saw before getting his wand and cleaning his face. 

"We're in public!" Tom hissed, his tone lowered.

"Oh, are we? I never noticed," Harry replied, sarcastic, before flicking more ice cream at Tom.

Tom narrowed his eyes, annoyed, before flicking some of his own ice cream back.

Before Tom knew it, they were in a full-blown food fight, both laughing hysterically as their faces and clothes became smothered in ice cream.  

However, their food fight was very short-lived as the owner of the shop came over and threatened to ban them for life if they didn't stop.

Harry, red-faced and trying to control his laughter, apologised before cleaning up the mess. He also tipped them incredibly generously before rushing Tom out of the shop. 

~~~~~~~~

"This is the Romanian Longhorn, one of our previously endangered dragons, as its horns are very useful in potions. The Longhorns numbers started to drop off, but it has undergone a successful breeding program to bring them back up," explained the tour guide as the boys looked at the large 44-foot beast that was currently sleeping in its large forest-sized enclosure that was surrounded by invisible walls. 

"I read that the Longhorn preferred to gore its prey with its horns before roasting it, is it true?" Tom asked the guide, mild interest on his face. 

If Tom was showing mild interest in public, then he must be positively ecstatic. Tom was always so expressive and free with his laughs and smiles when he was around Harry, but Harry noted that when he was around his friends or in public, he was so much more guarded. 

He wasn't being fake, nothing like the previous Tom Riddle, who used his false charm and charisma to hide the diabolical things he was doing. But he just seemed a lot more subdued, unwilling to show any real emotion. Harry hated it.

"Yes, that is true! Not many people know that." Beamed the guide.

Fleamont frowned, pushing up his glasses. "Is there a way of using the Longhorns horns humanely? In a way that wouldn't kill them?"

"No, not that we know of so far. Why?"

"I'm working on a secret project, but I have an inkling it'll need something from a dragon," Fleamont admitted, patting his unruly black hair self consciously. 

Despite being in his first year, Fleamont had shown a good talent for potions. His mother had bragged about the letters sent home from Slughorn, talking about his remarkable talent that surpassed some third years already. 

Harry also knew that in the future, Fleamont would take a two-year potions apprenticeship after Hogwarts before creating Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which would quadruple the family gold, especially after becoming so popular in America. Harry remembered one of the ingredients containing something from a dragon too, but he was sure it wasn't a horn.

"Can't you wake it up?" Lestrange demanded, impatient as he stood right at the invisible barrier. 

"Well, we can but-"

"So do it. We don't want to watch it sleep. I want to see it do something interesting, like kill something in the forest," Lestrange continued.  

"That isn't how you ask for things, Claude; that wasn't very polite," Harry admonished, struggling to keep the annoyance from his own voice as he looked at the boy. 

Claude opened his mouth, probably to argue with Harry, but after a sharp look from Tom, he muttered out an apology before moving further down the enclosure. 

They spent the rest of time looking at the range of different dragons, the boys asking questions and looking in awe and delight as they saw the dragons fly around and hunt some of their prey. 

Towards the end of the tour, they came upon an infant dragon who was around five feet big and couldn't yet breathe anything but smoke. 

"As this dragon cannot breathe fire yet and can only fly a few feet, would you boys like to ride it? We don't usually offer it to guests, but well, Mr. Potter paid for the full experience," offered the tour guide with a grin.

"Yes! That's so cool, I want to ride the dragon!" Exclaimed Fleamont, bouncing around in anticipation.

"I'm definitely riding it," grinned Lestrange. "This is the coolest day ever!" 

"I shall ride the dragon," Tom announced as if he was doing everyone a favour by doing so. 

The boys took turns riding the dragon, the tour guide taking pictures of them as they rode around a few feet off the ground. All of them were clearly delighted, including Tom, who had a full-blown smile, and it warmed Harry's heart. 

He knew this would be a birthday Tom would never forget. He hoped it would erase every bad birthday he had at Wools. Although watching Tom ride the dragon made Harry deeply miss Ron and Hermione.

He remembered how they'd broken into Gringotts before riding off a dragon, and he couldn't help the fond smile on his face. They had been so young, but they genuinely had had an adventure of a lifetime. They had seen and done things that most people would never do in their lifetime, and it was ironic that it was all down to the little boy who was currently grinning whilst riding six feet off the ground. 

"What's Hogwarts like?" Lestrange asked Fleamont as they sat down for dinner. 

The tour had been an amazing success, and Harry had taken the boys back to his home before having Pebbles make Tom's favourite dinner, creamy mash, sausages, Yorkshire puddings, and gravy. 

"It's amazing! Of course Gryffindor is the best house ever, and we have Professor Dumbledore; he's the best wizard in the world!"

"Yes, I've read about him. Apparently he was the best student Hogwarts has ever seen, with the most NEWTs and the most awards during his schooling." Tom wrinkled his nose, cutting up his sausage. "I will, of course, surpass that."

"My father hates Dumbledore; he says he's a disgrace to wizards and says he's the mudblood-"

"- muggleborn!" Harry hastily interrupted, fixing Lestrange with a glare. 

Lestrange sighed, put upon. "-Muggleborn champion, father says he's trying to erode pureblood rights. But even he says that he's intelligent and powerful too. He's won all sorts of magical international competitions too. He's said to be one of the most powerful wizards in Europe. Definitely the most powerful in Britain."

"Well, I'll be the most powerful wizard in the world," Tom insisted, shooting Lestrange a glare.

"You'd have to be exceptionally smart to be better than Dumbledore. When you see him, you'll know what I mean. He just has something about him that crackles with magic; he's brilliant! And he discovered twelve uses for dragon blood, can you-"

"I'm well aware of his achievements Potter, we don't need a history lesson. Besides, you're a mediocre wizard at best, what would you know about talent?" Tom sneered, glaring at Fleamont.

Poor Fleamont looked devastated at Tom's words, his eyes filling up with tears as Lestrange cackled with laughter, amused and delighted at Tom’s cruelty. 

"Tom! That's enough! Apologies to Fleamont," Harry demanded, standing up and pulling Fleamont into a hug. 

Tom looked outraged as Fleamont tucked his face into Harry's t-shirt, standing up so quickly he knocked his chair back.

"Fine. Sorry, now release him at once!" Tom barked, furious.

"Tom.." Harry trailed off, the warning in his tone evident as Fleamont untangled himself from Harry, eyes downcast. 

"It's fine. Can I floo home now? I'm not very hungry anymore," Fleamont murmured.

"Of course. Claude, why don't you come with me too? Tom needs some time by himself to think about his actions," Harry responded, icy.

Throughout it all, Tom glared at Fleamont, magic crackling around him.

~~~~~

Harry attempted to talk to Tom about his behaviour with Fleamont and his attitude towards Dumbledore. Tom seemed to somewhat agree that his comments towards Fleamont were unnecessary, and just before Fleamont went back to Hogwarts, he went round to the Potters, and he and Fleamont seemed fine.

However, it didn't matter what Harry said; Tom seemed to just automatically dislike Dumbledore.

It seemed they were destined to be foes in every universe.

~~~~

A week before Tom went off to Hogwarts, Harry suggested they take a family portrait that they could hang up. 

It's nothing like the stuffy aristocratic family portraits that reside in the Malfoy, Black, or Lestrange mansion. Harry is tussling Tom's hair, his eyes fond and an adoring smile on his face as he lets out a silent laugh. Tom is scowling, but there's a small but genuine smile on his face, his eyes amused as they look back at Harry. 

It's perfect. 

So perfect that Tom requests a smaller version so he can sleep with it under his pillow. 

That night, Tom stared at the mini photo for almost two hours, his eyes greedily taking in Harry's expression.

"Mine," Tom murmurs, sniffing the picture, his mind conjuring Harry's scent.

For a moment, the mad notion of eating the picture comes into Tom's mind; that way he and Harry can truly be connected. 

But he dismisses the fleeting thought and finally falls asleep just after 4 a.m.

~~~~~

"You must reply to me instantly when I write to you, yes?" Tom demands, stiff as he stands by his trunk.

"Of course," Harry agrees, his eyes watering.

He knew he would miss Tom as he went off to Hogwarts, but the gut wrenching feeling is so intense that Harry almost wishes he wouldn't go.

Tom was—is—his world and had been for so many years. Harry didn't know what he would do without seeing Tom for so many months; it felt like he had a hole in place of his heart. 

He loved Tom so much.

Tom's face was completely void of any emotion, but the night before, Tom had crawled into Harry's bed, clinging to him and begging Harry to repeat how much he loved him and how much he would miss him. The minute Harry felt as if he would doze off, Tom would shake him awake, his voice cracking, and he said 'Again' so Harry could continue chanting his little mantra.

They both hadn't slept at all. 

"I love you so much; you are my world, Tom. My pride and joy, and I know you will accomplish great things. I'll see you during the winter break," Harry murmured, squeezing Tom tightly as he pulled him into a hug.

Tom's arms wound around Harry, holding him just as tightly.

"You are mine; your life is mine. You will not forget me," Tom said, soft but certain. Harry frowned at him, bemused. 

After a few seconds of intense silent staring, Tom grabbed his trunk and made his way onto the Hogwarts Express.

Tom would begin his first year at Hogwarts.