Chapter 6
“I don’t give a flying flip what happens to my relatives’ reputations,” Riddle snarled, emerald eyes snapping angrily at the old man. Some of Harry’s magic had slipped its leash, and watery blue eyes widened in shock at the feel of the power swimming in the air. Severus gently nudged the thirteen year old, who closed his eyes and pulled the magic back behind his occlumency barriers. When he had himself under better control, he continued, eyes still closed. “I am not exaggerating their treatment, nor did the twins,” he continued softly. “In fact, I had been understating the true facts of my living arrangements with my relatives.” Harry’s lip curled at that last word, and Dumbledore flinched back from the banked rage in those remarkable verdant eyes now staring at him. He could have sworn, however, that he’d seen just the briefest gleam of red, but chalked it up to his imagination.
“I was forced to cook for them from the time I was four years old,” the boy continued, breathing measured as he fought to keep both his and Harry’s rage bottled up. “I never got to taste or eat anything I prepared, either. When I didn’t cook the meals properly, Petunia would swing a frying pan at my head. Vernon tossed me around like a Frisbee, and there were many times that my head made hard contact with the stair risers in my cupboard, and I’ve no doubt I had a few concussions because of it. Dudley and his gang would chase me all over the neighborhood, and when they caught me, they beat the bloody pulp out of me. Do you know how many broken bones I had from his game of Harry hunting? I was never taken to a doctor because they were afraid that they would be reported for abuse.
“They lied to the neighbors and the teachers at primary school, telling them that I was a violent delinquent and tale-teller, and when I started coming here, they told everyone that I was going to St. Brutus’ Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. I was called a freak, worthless and a waste of space and air. I was constantly told that they spent all their hard-earned money on my freak self, and that I would work my arse off to make up for what they spent on me. I never had a new thing in my life; all my clothes were hand-me-downs from my fat bastard of a cousin. I never celebrated Christmas or my birthdays because ‘freaks like me didn’t deserve to’. The only toys I was able to collect as a kid were some broken army men that Dudley forgot about and a couple of really pretty marbles that he lost. Broken crayons became what I used to draw and write, and if I dared to get better marks in school than my cousin did, I went without food and was locked up in my cupboard until they felt like letting me out again.
“When Malfoy overheard me talking to Hedwig about this, he offered to talk to his parents and see if they’d be willing to foster me; to get me away from that house once and for all. They became my legal guardians, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Sir.” The silence was thick and heavy in the office, the words that were nearly shouted at Dumbledore reverberating off of the walls. Tom had sent a tendril of magic out to feel the spinning, whirling, chiming thingamajigs all over the office, and more than a few of them fell silent and still as the Dark Lord discovered that they were to monitor every aspect of his host’s life. That’s what those were for? was heard in the back of the boy’s head, and Riddle sent a bit of his consciousness in to soothe the thirteen year old’s fears.
Yes, I’m afraid so. They’re broken now and will never work for him again. I encased them in some of your magic, and he can think that it was accidental on your part.
That meant he knew, the teen nearly wailed, tears standing out in his eyes. I begged him to let me live anywhere else at the end of first and second year, but he denied me, spouting off about the ‘protections’. He even told me that he knew he was condemning me to ‘ten dark and difficult years’ and that I ‘didn’t come to school as healthy as he liked, but that I was alive’. How could he, in good conscience, continue to send me back into that abuse? I thought he cared about me! The sliver of Tom’s soul that had resided within the boy since he was fifteen months old wrapped around the bit the dementor left behind and comforted him in the same way it did during his miserable childhood. Harry turned into that little bit of Riddle and cried brokenheartedly.
The mental exchange took only a few seconds, and most of Tom’s conscious mind was taking in everything going on around him. So it was no surprise when Fawkes lifted from his perch and crooned a somber, sorrowful tune, which matched the feelings Riddle was getting from Harry’s bit of leftover spirit as the boy continued to mourn all of his broken illusions. Albus stared at his familiar in bitter betrayal, knowing that the undertone of chiding rebuke was aimed specifically at him. As the last notes of Fawkes’ song drifted on the air, the headmaster cleared his throat, looking all sorts of guilty as he said, “Of course, my boy. Though I would rather you stay with your relatives, under their loving protection, I understand that I have no say in your placement with the Malfoys. But, could you please at least do me the favor of staying with your aunt for the first couple of weeks of the summer break? Just to make sure that those protections remain in place for them. Being muggles, they would have no way of defending themselves against Tom’s Dark forces.”
“Even after everything I’ve just told you, you still think that those muggles have more of a right to safety and happiness than I do?” Voldemort asked incredulously. “Are you barking?”
A soft snort came from the teen’s left, and Riddle looked at his second in command, frowning fiercely as he thought that the potions professor was making fun of Harry. “It’s no surprise to me, Albus,” the dour man snarked, dark eyes narrowed angrily on his boss. “After all, you’ve done the same thing to the Dark Lord and I, so why should your boy savior be any different.”
Albus winced, remembering the shattered way that Severus had come back to school for his sixth year. It took some cajoling, but the headmaster was finally able to get the truth out of the teen, and a small part of him regretted not listening to the boy when he begged for help. It seemed that Severus had returned home after his OWLs year to find that his father had beaten his mother to death, and was intent on doing the same to the young man. It was only through Lucius Malfoy’s intervention that he was saved from the same fate that befell Eileen Prince-Snape. “Be that as it may, I would really appreciate it if you could see your way to continuing that protection for them.”
“Now that I have someone to sponsor me in the magical world, I will respectfully decline your request,” Harry said. He’d finally recovered from the deep betrayal he felt at the headmaster’s actions, and he wanted to be the one to finish the conversation. Tom hovered in the background, ready to step in and protect the boy if needed. “I made a mistake in first year when I didn’t take the hat up on his decision to sort me into Slytherin, but I’m more than willing to accept his choice now.”
“Excellent, young sir,” the Sorting Hat said as it leapt off of the high shelf upon which it sat and dropped onto the raven haired teen’s head. “Hello Tom. Well met, and I think this is the best way you have to completely succeed in your endeavors to improve our corner of the magical world.” Riddle was stunned stupid, sure that the hat would somehow signal Dumbledore to the dual-souled being sitting in front of him, but the hat continued, allaying the Dark Lord’s fears quite handily. “Albus is not permitted to know the secrets of every head upon which I sit, good sir, so I’ll ask you to relax before you alert the old man that something is seriously wrong with his martyr.
“Now, bringing together those sins against humanity that you call protections is the first, biggest step toward stabilizing you for your Magic-given purpose, and allowing young Harry to continue to bond with you will complete those repairs. Let his love show you exactly what it feels like to be honored and appreciated for the person you are, and let him show you a better way to get what you want without destroying everything you’re working for at the same time. You’ve managed to do for his soul what no one else has, and I can feel how much he already adores you.”
It’s true, Tom, Harry sent with a shy grin. You’ve shown that you really care about me; about what happens to me, and it would be great if I could consider you a substitute dad.
I...I don’t know what to say, Harry, the Dark Lord stammered, stunned stupid at the boy’s ready acceptance, and at the plaintive request he made. I started this because I wanted to tear the wizarding world apart, and wreak bloody vengeance on all those who abused me, or treated me unkindly; who thought I wasn’t worthy of any sort of love or support. Now, I think I can make changes for the good, and still not change who I fundamentally am, and I have you to thank for that. What I do won’t be pretty, but it will be necessary if we are to fix all that's wrong in our world right now.
“Well said, Tom,” the Sorting Hat enthused happily. “And yes, child, putting you in Slytherin now, especially after the bombshells that were dropped in the Great Hall this morning, would be the best place for you. Besides, I know you still care about your friends, Harry, and putting a distance between Tom and them would improve their odds for survival. Better be SLYTHERIN!”
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“Harry, we need to talk to you,” came a hectoring voice from behind him. He was walking toward the dungeons, his trunk floating behind him when Hermione’s voice blared through the hallways, stopping everyone in their tracks. They turned and stared at the Golden Trio excitedly, anxious to see the showdown, especially after all the bombardas that were set off during breakfast. The raven haired teen turned, emerald eyes flat and cold, and stared at his former friends blankly. Tom was at the forefront right now; he’d had about all he could stand of the attitude of Granger, and was looking forward to finally putting her in her place. “What did the headmaster want? Why were you gone so long? Is he going to get you away from the Malfoys? Is that what the meeting was about? Why are you going to the dungeons? Why do you have your trunk?”
“Good Merlin, girl,” came a voice from the crowd. “Why don’t you give the poor boy a chance to answer a question before asking another? It’s no wonder most of the Gryffindors don’t really like you, if this is how you normally act.” Hermione flushed scarlet in humiliation, but her cinnamon eyes telegraphed her anger at her friend, and her chin jutted out mulishly as she crossed her arms and tapped a foot, impatiently waiting for the answers to her questions. Ron, who was steps behind her, noticed the change in the patch on his best mate’s robes, and blue eyes widened in shocked betrayal at the sight.
“I am moving into the Slytherin dorms, where the hat just placed me,” Potter replied frostily. “Albus Dumbledore is not my magical guardian, nor is he my legal guardian, so he has no say in where I am to stay outside of the school term. The Malfoys are now my legal guardians, and have named Severus Snape as my guardian ad litem whilst I’m in the school. There is nothing else you need to know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get settled in my new dorm.”
“So that’s it, then,” the redhead barked, walking aggressively toward the slightly smaller teen. “Now that you’re a slimy snake, you can’t be bothered to give us the time of day. I always knew that you were too full of yourself, and this just proves my point. This friendship is over. Good luck with making any sort of friends from those backstabbing bastards you chose over us.”