Harry
He does it all again. Carries his bag again. Makes his plate again. Pours his tea again. Two sugars, no milk or cream, as he finds. A pretense of the bitterness hiding the sweet within. He almost laughs out loud in the middle of dinner like some idiot.
He watches him follow his precise routine, as it seems. Slowly cutting exact bites. Meat, then carb, a sip or two of soup, meat again, more soup, more carb, and then repeat again from meat. Over and over. He really needed to focus on his own meal honestly, he could have been eating newspaper or even the cutlery for all he knew.
Well, there was one more addition to the routine. A glance about every two rounds at Harry from the side of the fringe of his hair.
Harry is pretty sure he knows what that is about. He is excited too. He wants to show Tom this probably more than Tom wanted to see it. Yes, it sounds impossible, but it's true.
Although flying had been a good start, a good choice on Harry's part, it was still more Harry's thing than Lord Voldemort's.
HE liked to gain obscure knowledge, to indulge curiosities unthought of even by masters of their craft, to discover secrets buried eons past. And the Room, by Merlin, the Room! It was an amazing feat of Magic!
It was all three of those things rolled into one. And Harry would be the one to show it to him. He considers if he would see Tom's surprised expression, the way his mouth had opened slightly, unknowingly, when Harry gave him the Map.
Would he give Harry another hug. A real one this time? Chest to chest, standing, arms wrapped tight?
That hug, that feeling, that moment in the library, the gratitude in Tom's voice, the humour in his tone later. He will never forget it.
Is it even possible to create core foundational memories past childhood? It certainly seems possible within himself.
Really, he daydreams of Tom's reaction, Tom gives him more looks, and the students are both un-surprised and yet even more fervored in their whispers around them.
They finish dinner, and honestly, this is his third meal with Tom and he has focused on maybe around seven bites total. The one he started with and the one he ended with for each meal, and the first bite of that treacle tart. Ugh. Merlin. He really—
Needs to focus, on Tom and bringing the next steps of his plan together. Not on his weird eating habits he's both paying not enough, and too much attention to!
"Ready to be surprised?" He wants to hear it!
Tom just looks at him with that unreadable face, that blank look. "What kind of surprise is it?"
"A follow-me surprise" Really, he couldn't sound any more than a child. Infact, he sounded like his Dad, which was even worse. Would he make the same jokes with Tom as his Dad did him? Hopefully not, that would be awful. Tom would probably hex him!
Tom looks at him unreadable again but he feels for some reason that if Tom could hex him now he would. Remnants of the other Tom Riddle, perhaps. Tom is just used to having to hide, to mask, to lie.
It's what He had grown up with. It's what He had faced. It's what He had learned.
It's what He had known.
Kill or be Killed.
Survival of the fittest.
It only made sense that He had turned out as he did. That He had pursued the threat to his person with Dedication. Until the very end.
Until he Had, and Harry had left his friends behind, unknowing of what happened to them. Unknowing of whether they were dead or alive. If Neville had killed the snake. If Ron and Hermione had made it out. If they were free. If they were alive.
If Lord Voldemort won?
The thought almost breaks him down for a second, as it always done when it makes a connection and appears unannounced.
He has been trying not to think about that. He has made his peace with it. He has thought about it, and cried about it, and screamed about it, and he had wrapped his arms around his tiny body until he hadn't been able to pull in the meager amount of air his infant lungs could take in.
He had analyzed and considered and raged and cried and feared for their safety, and he had been nobody in that time. Just a creature of grief. Of fear and ignorance. Of anger and despair. Hopelessness had consumed him.
He had in moments considered if this was just a restart of a previous world. If this was his chance for a do over but better. He had been waiting for Lord Voldemort, for that moment set in fate, for the screams he always heard with the dementors around.
But it hadn't been, it was a different world—
A world that had a baby eleven year old Tom Riddle in it when Harry was fifteen in body in 1938. With his parents and Sirius and Moony. And other people he had never met before. Muggle Grandparents and Black family members and Weasleys unknown to him.
A world in which—
Tom Riddle was looking at Harry looking like an idiot looking at Tom without saying anything. He's really really losing his mind.
Meditation is now first on the list.
And he will do that when he lets Tom explore the room.
"Sorry" ....wow, no words. How wonderful.
What was the last thing about? The Room? Surprise? Oh!
"So yeah, follow me?"
Tom just looks at him, and this time Harry can tell the look on face, an original though it was.
Curiosity. His brows furrow in the middle. His lips gain a few lines in the plush bottom. And it's not an original look, he realises. It's Tom's reading face. Merlin, is that not cute as fuck!
"Okay" he echoes of another time, when Harry had asked him to trust. And proved that trust. But the fact that it was given at all is not lost on him! In the least!
Tom tries to reach for his bag this time when they stand. "Can I?" The words are out without a thought. Or because of a thought. One of those.
Tom's face is once again unreadable. He seems to be considering words. There aren't any uttered aloud. He only nods.
Harry walks them back to the Entrance, the path to the Room dredging up from memory, as—
A boy almost crashes into Tom.
Almost being the key word.
He hasn't honed his Seeker reflexes for nothing.
He grabs Tom by the shoulder, pulling him under the right side of his body, mere inches between their now one solid mass and the yellow trimmed black robes of the other boy as he passes.
And its even better, to keep the boy even closer. The better to protect him. Even from being slammed into in the walkways.
He doesn't let go, Tom doesn't seems to want him to, and he forces his steps to shorten. To match Tom in stride. To keep his arm slung half way around his back and over his shoulder. To keep him close.
They make the trek to the Seventh floor. He knows Tom is curious. He knows Tom is anticipant. He knows Tom is even a bit suspicious.
They reach the blank wall, and he turns to face Tom, still not letting go.
"Remember the Pear?" He says. Tom nods.
"I want you to think of a Room that you have wanted to visit your whole life. It can be real or imaginary. Any room you want. A library. A museum. A house. Imagine it in your head. What's in it, what function it serves. And then, I want you to walk three times back and forth across the empty wall."
A wait as he walks back, and then, a door appears.
And Tom turns to look back where he now stands, making space for Tom's short back and forth.
"And it will take me there?" If only, Harry wants to laugh.
"It will create it for you, Tom. It exists solely within the castle walls."
And then, a thought.
"What I said earlier, I did not mean to imply indoor locations only. You could imagine a Quidditch pitch, for instance, and the Room will provide. It's called the Room of Requirement, and it was created by Rowena Ravenclaw herself." Tom is still looking at him, saying nothing.
"It provides what you require, within reason and the laws of Magic ofcourse. It cannot provide food, for example." Tom nods. A reaction atleast.
"So, would you like to enter." No response, more of the eyes.
A thought.
"Would you like to keep your room to yourself? I only told you to think of that because I wanted you to get something you really wanted. I am totally fine by you visiting it alone. I will wait to escort you back." It hurt, he wanted to know Tom, he wasn't okay with being kept out and he would wait for Tom anyways.
Tom visibly gulps. Harry sees every movement. "It's okay, but no questions, no exceptions", he says and Harry laughs.
"Agreed." And he is indeed okay with that. He will know when he sees anyways. He still wonders. Tom is looking at the handle, but he doesn't move to turn it.
He walks up to reach over and the sight—
Has him shocked still.
The room is a room he could never imagine and yet, now that he has seen it in all its vision, this room is the one he wants his sitting room at Potter Manor now to look like.
The room is warm, it is a lot of browns and creams and dark coffee and blacks. It has an occasional red and green item, yet they are muted colors. A few blues too, infact.
It looks like comfort out of his dreams. There is a roaring fire, and the couch is an off white shaded in the yellow blaze. There are throws on it.
There are various things that seem out of time and place. Muggle things. It feels like the backdrop of the couch and fire were Muggle Museum items Harry remembers from a few field trips in another life.
Various clay tablets with red etched symbols and lines and large carved tusks on big wooden tables.
Guess Tom took his museum suggestion seriously. Cute!
He holds the door open as Tom enters, and he closes the door behind them. He moves to the right side of the couch, a side table forming as he drops their bags on it.
He picks Tom's bags back up, and as he hand it to him, Tom looks at him once more with shock.
"It can still be changed from within?"
"Yes"
And then, half the knickknacks disappear. In their place, giant library shelves appear. They are reminiscent of the actual shelves in the actual library.
He knows the books were 'borrowed' from the library somehow. He tells Tom as such.
Tom's face is once more an echo of the library. Of the Map.
The hug comes again.
As Harry had thought. As he had wanted.
And this time, he can really feel how thin Tom really is. How weightless his arms feel around Harry's waist and back. How Harry was sure he could count each individual rib if he hugged the boy long enough, even though the robes.
Malnourished, there's that word again.
Tom is making sound however. "The surprise that was a surprise is amazing."
A pause against his chest.
"You're amazing." And Harry feels himself burn up from the inside.
Never has Harry heard such sincerity, such awe, such joy about such words about himself. Amazing is he? The Boy who was once Freak. He feels his heart burst out of his chest. He feels his grip around Tom tighten to what he thinks would be uncomfortable for the boy. But he says nothing, and Harry hugs him back as much as he does.
Tom's surprise for him was almost as Great as his own surprise for the boy.
Amazing. He cannot stop smiling.
"You're amazing, Tom. I see it. You're amazing and I'm glad to be able to share this with you."
One hand loosens and gently strokes the boy's left shoulder, "Never wanted to make a friend before, remember?"
Another minute, and then he feels Tom withdraw slightly so he lets go.
"You can't ever stop being friends with me" an echo of Harry's words earlier, not said in jest this time, and Harry nods. Tom's eyes never leave him. "I can't" he repeats.
Tom smiles. A sweet trusting smile.
He turns to move to the couch, the air around them warm from the fire. "So. Would you like to discuss mostly-nonsense advanced-potions-theories you have no context for, or would you like to finish the book you were reading in the library at the start?"
A thought. "Not that I'm unwilling. I will try to explain context, and I'm sure you will keep up. It's just a lot of theory, maybe?"
Tom smiles again.
"Maybe after I'm done with the first year Potions book."
Another thought. A plan. A new plan.
Merlin.
"Actually", he says, "you will need more context than that. I will tell Mom to send me my old Hogwarts books. And copies for the current fifth, sixth and seventh year. You shouldn't rush through understanding them however, those should build up a solid foundation."
"And more introduction to Magic books that she herself read when younger", he remembers.
Another smile. They are so much more easily given now. Just as sweet every time.
A nod, then Tom turns back to his Charms book again. His focus elsewhere, Harry mentally reviews his to-do list.
Meditation would have to wait for later.
Until then, Lily, the next most important.
He begins his letter.
「Mom, please,
You know I've made a friend, so it seems I will be unable to make it for our scheduled mirror meet.
Until then, I need copies of the Hogwarts required reading list for all years, and a new bag like mine to store them in.
No questions, please!
Also, any books you read to help you acclimate better when you were eleven, if you still have them. A list if you remember title names.
A few bags of gold for the next Hogsmeade weekend wouldn't be amiss, unless you want me to ask Sirius instead.
No questions!
I need the new bag to have a pouch for the Map as well. No questions.
Please keep James out of it. Unless he's already reading over your shoulder.
He is. Isn't he. Nevermind.
His name is Tom Riddle. He is a first year. He will be coming home for Christmas. Do not bother him, please! No pranks, no jokes, no teasing, and especially no NO turning into actual beasts and fighting around him. I'm serious. No, not Sirius. I am serious, Mom.
This is important.
I love you. Harry.
Siriusly Dad. This is Important.
」
As good as its going to get.
Tom is still busy with his reading. He wonders if he should leave quick and come back or wait until Tom was back in his dorms—
His dorms. The letter forgotten.
He needs to protect Tom in the Dorms. In places he could be hurt outside of Cygnus' influence. Dorms only had yearmates in the room after all.
He decides to speak. "Tom. When I escort you back, I need you to let me into the Dorms with you. I won't be seen, I just want you to know I will be there. And just in case I need a distraction."
Curiosity blazes.
He decides to indulge. Reaches into his bag. Pulls out the silvery ball of fabric.
Obviously Tom doesn't know.
He shakes it out and stands up, facing Tom as he envelops it around himself.
Tom's face as he disappears—
Forever imprinted to memory.
His eyes are still on Harry even as Harry knows he gazes off into space in front of him.
He knows where Harry is.
His eyes ablaze. In wonder.
Harry is enthralled. Captured. Consumed.
A rearranging of the to-do list.
He needs help. He isn't getting any.
He shrugs it off himself, the arm holding it extending out towards Tom, who is still seated.
He very slowly stands, placing the book in his lap on the side table matching Harry's.
His hands uncertain as he reaches to take it from Harry's fingers into his own.
Harry watches enraptured, as he slowly opens it up in front of him, the silver blending with the yellow red of the fire.
His arms move as he throws it over his shoulder— and disappears.
And for a second, Harry feels apprehension. He cannot see Tom anymore. What if he did something Harry was unprepared for in the face of this sudden decision to share this as well.
He had with Ron and Hermione, after all.
And then, another thought.
Tom would need presents come Christmas, and there were a few only the 'real' (he thinks dejectedly) adults could purchase.
Like perhaps a demiguise cloak for Tom, even if he couldn't get Harry's actual cloak.
And he knows just the man. A man with real deep pockets indeed.
After all, James would already shoulder the burden of his own and Harry's gift. Harry's gift, that he had now actually thought about a bit and decided without much hesitation. It would be a Merry little Christmas indeed!
The Lord Black wouldn't notice a dip in the ocean, after all. It wasn't any Sirius matter. If Harry wanted to empty the unfathomably deep Black vaults, he would be allowed to do so. He knows this much. He's been told this much. Many times over.
Tom breaks him out of his reverie by reappearing directly infront of Harry and almost makes him jump back. Makes him startle atleast.
No matter, Tom's laugh is payment enough at the sight of his embarrassment.
"Sorry" he is not in the least. At the most, this was planned, purposeful. Merlin.
Tom Riddle, huh? Okay then.
He will try his best. Keep on his toes.
He reaches out to place his hand gently on Tom's head, ruffling his hair as he does.
Tom's nose scrunches up but he says nothing. Harry wants to laugh but he doesn't.
"Would you like to read some more?" He casts another tempus. Eight thirty.
He can spare another half hour before he needs to escort Tom back to the dorms.
Curfew is at 10, so should have a nice twenty or thirty minutes to cast all the wards he has decided to defend Tom with.
And then....Merlin.
The prefects meeting at seven. Merlin.
This is great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
Amazing.
(No, that word is different.)
Moving on, the prefects meeting!
He would talk to Cygnus tomorrow and catch up, or even tonight after Tom. Tonight then, to make sure he wasn't missing anything important. He would be in the Dungeons anyways.
He sees Tom nod, so he adds. "We should probably start to walk back by nine. There's things to be done after all."
"What" an aborted question.
"What what, Tom?", what things, he expects to hear.
"You'll walk me back to Slytherin?" He asks instead.
"Yes", and he had always planned to. "Infact, I won't even hide. I need to talk to Cygnus anyway, I totally forgot about that Prefects meeting."
Tom's response is a beatific smile.
Cygnus is still a weight in his mind, huh. Well. Harry would carry that too. Tom would find out soon enough, if he was still unsure after lunch.
"I don't think it would have been worth your time anyway", Tom decides and Harry agrees. "You'll find out though." And he will.
"I'm sure you're right. So read or stay?" He repeats and Tom shakes his head.
"Let's walk back", and so they will.
This time, to his surprise and pleasure, Tom places his book back into his bag and leaves it on the side table as he starts walking away, even as he watches Harry's next actions.
With a smile to himself, he reaches to grab Tom's bag and his, before he walks back around to the boy.