II
Tom stared down at Harry Potter.
He found the boy mesmerizing; beautiful as he slept peacefully. Features soft as he breathed deeply.
Across from Tom was Doctor Narcissa Malfoy. Her long blonde hair tied into a bun as she wore her white coat.
A scan of Harry's body in her hands, lifted toward the fluorescent lighting.
"You're rather quiet, Narcissa." Tom muttered, slipping his hand across Harry's dark cheek. "Are you displeased with something?"
Narcissa scowled at him, matching her husband rather well in the displeasured glance she threw Tom. "The boy has been abused, malnourished and missing for seven years, Detective Riddle. Of course I'm displeased."
Tom hummed, feeling the softness of Harry's dirty skin. "Does he have any injuries?"
Narcissa placed the scan back onto the lit board. "Not new ones. The CT scan shows clear signs of abuse; broken bones, bruised muscle. His muscles are terribly weak. I'd estimate he hasn't walked in three to four years."
"There isn't much walking he could've done it that room." Albus Dumbledore groveled from his place behind Tom. "Locked away for who knows how long."
"I'd estimate the entire time he was missing." Narcissa turned, staring down at Harry. "His development is so deteriorated I wouldn't be surprised if he would need to relearn English."
"Surely his kidnapper wouldn't be so cruel. It's a known fact people kidnap children because they are lonely —to not talk to him..." Kingsley scowled from his corner.
"This isn't a normal kidnapper we are dealing with." Tom reminded softly, never taking his eyes off Harry. "Unlike most freaks, this one was able to keep our dear Harry Potter for seven years without doing much other than beating him on occasion."
Tom lifted his deep gaze to the glowing CT scan. The MRI glowing beside it.
He stared at the lack of development of Harry's brain. And the markings on his bones; where the pieces had wrongly set and bruises marred the bones.
"Most kidnappers sell their collectives. Using them as toys; sexual favors. Torture. Harry was simply locked away in a room, occasionally visited when his abductor needed to let off some steam. Most likely when Harry was first there; still trying to find a way out."
Albus hummed. "A child trying to escape its predator. Makes you pity the thing."
"You shouldn't," Tom said, his voice turning just a bit stern. "Even with his lack of knowledge, I doubt Harry would think highly of your pity."
"He probably doesn't even know what pity means." Shacklebolt grumbled. Always the first to defend Albus.
Tom ignored him. Glancing back down at Harry.
"When he wakes up we should get his first account of the past seven years." Albus groaned as he stood from his chair. "You don't mind staying with him until then, do you Tom?"
"Of course not. I've spent four years searching for this boy, I won't leave the case now."
Albus nodded, turning to Shacklebolt. "We've got to fill out our account of finding Harry Potter, Kingsley." He turned back to Tom. "We'll be back in a few short hours."
Tom nodded, wordlessly sliding the chair beneath his knees.
Narcissa crossed her arms, watching as the two men left. Before turning back to Tom.
"Do you think Harry will be able to give his account of the last seven years?"
"I don't think he remembers his own name," Narcissa turned back to the scans. "I'd be surprised if he remembered how to talk, let alone write."
Tom hummed, resting back into the god uncomfortable chair. Planting his chin into the meat of his palm. "Children draw their experiences. Do you think he'd be able to do that?"
"Maybe." Narcissa sighed, "If you hand him the pencil and tell him what to do. He'll need lots of therapy."
Tom nodded, "His remaining family has yet to arrive. I'll discuss it with them once they do."
Narcissa nodded, paused.
"You think his family will come?"
"He's been missing for seven years. Why wouldn't they?"
—
They hadn't.
Tom had waited beside Harry for hours, and yet the Dursleys never made an appearance. While it wasn't shocking, how they knew so little about Harry when the boy was eleven was a clear sign of negligence.
Tom hummed, leaning back in the chair. Staring at Harry —taking in the sight of his dirty dark skin, his long messy black hair, his unusually long eyelashes and full lips.
The boy was scrawny, and short. The malnutrition and lack of Vitamin D had stunted his growth through the better part of puberty.
Briefly, Tom wondered if Harry would even remember his relatives. Clearly, they didn't give enough of a crap about him to show up to the hospital. Would Harry remember them?
Cry when he didn't see them. Or would he feel relieved not seeing his relatives. Would he even give a reaction when he opened his eyes and it was only Tom and possibly some other detectives around him?
Tom leaned in, his nose nearly touching Harry's own.
He remembered the boys eyes. So green, so beautiful. They had shined in the light of the ambulance.
Would they shine when Harry woke up? Or would they look dull and hollow from his time spent in that room?
Tom hoped they would shimmer as they had before. He rather liked the vibrant green of the boys eyes.
The clear color amongst his shitty clothing and dirty skin. Lifting a hand, Tom pulled Harry's lips back.
He hummed, pulling his finger back from Harry's lips.
The boy had perfectly white straight teeth. As if he brushed them regularly; and never ate sweets.
Maybe their kidnapper had taken better care of Harry than they thought.
Tom leaned back as Harry moved. The boys breath hitching as his eyebrows furrowed.
Like he could sense Tom's presence so close to him.
Fascinating.
The door clicked, forcing Tom's attention away from Harry. He blinked, pleasantly surprised to see Petunia Dursley beside Albus.
Has he gone to collect her? It wouldn't surprise Tom if he had —the man had a way with getting loved ones to come and see their unwanted blood relatives.
More often than not using the excuse they needed identification. Which they didn't, Tom knew this was Harry Potter the moment he had laid his eyes on the boy.
Tom stood as Petunia and Albus walked into the room. Albus smiled, blue eyes shimmering gleefully behind his half moon glasses.
Tom restrained from punching him.
Petunia looked from Albus to Tom. Her gaze hesitating to land on her sisters missing son.
"Missus Durlsey," Tom cooed, a smile tugging nicely at his thin lips. "I'm glad you've come."
Petunia nodded jerkily, hardly sharing his opinion. She wanted to be anywhere but this hospital room; Tom didn't need to be a phycology major to know that.
Petunia, while growing with age, was a very beautiful woman. Her hair blonde and eyes green.
It was a family trait than.
With pale skin and a rather long neck. She wore a controversial pink dress —the sleeves draping down to her elbows as the neckline flirted with her collarbone.
Yes, Tom could admit Petunia was beautiful.
Another family trait.
"If you could, please, identify Harry for us Missus Durlsey." Albus laid a comforting hand on her small arm. "It would help us greatly."
Tom hardly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this was Harry; knew it before they had even found him. Tom would not mistake Harry James Potter with another dark-skinned young man.
Petunia nodded, again, jerkily. Her throat working as she prepared herself.
Guilt was evident in her green eyes; seeming to make the revelation that her nephew had been found after seven long years.
Instead of dead like his mother and father.
Briefly closing her eyes, Petunia took a last breath before glancing at Harry. His features unmoving; unlike his aunts as her expression twisted. Petunia quickly looked away from Harry. Out of revolution, or guilt, Tom didn’t care to decipher.
Albus and Tom stayed quiet as Petunia gathered her barrings. Before she nodded. “It’s Harry.”
Albus let a small smile slip up his lips. “Thank you, Missus Dursley. This helps us immensely.”
Petunia only nodded before turning on her heel and leaving the room. Albus stared after her.
He hummed. “Must be hard, reuniting with a child you’d lost.”
Tom didn’t deign Albus with a comment of his own. He simply sat back down and turned back to Harry.
Albus turned to Tom a moment later, clapping his hands. Smile unmoved.
“At least we know it’s really him now.”
Tom didn’t answer. Only continued to watch as Harry slept.