Chapter 1
Harrison Evans was a mystery to Tom Riddle, one he was desperate to try his hand at unravelling.
There was a number of reasons for this, and every single one only served to make Tom more intrigued.
Evans practically came out of nowhere. He was introduced to the school body as a fifth year (Tom's year) who had previously been homeschooled, and was sorted after the first years on the first day of term. He was sorted into Slytherin after a couple of minutes deliberation from the Sorting Hat. Evans was a clearly muggle surname, like Tom's own, but if he had been homeschooled in magic then he was at least a halfblood. Maybe his mother was a Pureblood and his father a mudblood? Tom wasn't sure. He wanted to find out.
He had briefly entertained the possibility that maybe Evans hadn't been homeschooled at all, and half expected him to be useless when it came to classes.
Tom was wrong.
Evans rivalled Tom for the top scores in their year group- he was as good as Tom in practical magic and potions, and a mark or two behind him in theory, if not fully equal. Tom was exhilarated at such a close challenge. Sure, he had some students come close to him with grades in various subjects, like Eileen Prince in Potions or Alaric Nott in Ancient Runes. Minerva McGonagall, a Gryffindor, even bests Tom in Transfiguration- though McGonagall admitted herself that Professor Dumbledore does unfairly mark down Slytherins in all his classes. But none of these students provided Tom with any real challenge, there was no consistency- which Tom needed to view them as a challenge. Evans was consistent.
Yet, Evans didn't seem interested in an academic rivalry. In fact, he didn't seem interested in Tom at all. Bar exchanging pleasantries when he joined the Slytherin table, a few brief occasions of small talk in the common room or their dorm room, and working together in classes when they were paired up, Evans hadn't spoken to Tom at all.
It was almost infuriating. Tom wanted to know Evans- something he didn’t think he had ever felt before. Sure, he usually wanted to know the strengths and weaknesses of those around him so he could exploit them or recruit them into his Knights, some of which had then became actual real friends, but it was different with Evans. Tom had begun to see Evans as close to an equal to him. He wanted to know him inside and out, to bare his soul to him and have Evans bare his in return. Other people were starting to pick up on it, and the bolder and closer of his Knights (namely Orion Black and Abraxas Malfoy) were beginning to comment on it- Orion somewhat teasingly, and Abraxas with caution and intrigue.
("You know, Tom, if there's anything you want to tell us, you can without judgement," Abraxas had said gently, seemingly out of the blue, after Tom zoned out in the library one day staring at Evans' hands as he worked with Eileen Prince at the table across from them.
"Let the man pine in piece, 'Braxas," Orion had cut in with a grin, noticing where Tom had been focused, before Tom could ask Abraxas what he meant, "The teenage years are ripe with earth-shattering realisations about one's self. We must not hurry it along.")
Evans had been keeping to himself mostly, but he had made some surprisingly close friends in Slytherin in the past three months. Eileen Prince and Alphard Black (though he was a fourth year) most notably- but also Frederick Prewett, Euphemia Rowle, and Dante Zabini. Dante was already one of Tom's Knights, and he was hoping the others would join soon enough- especially as Alphard's older relatives in Slytherin, his cousin Orion and sister Walburga, already had. He had also befriended a couple of Ravenclaws from their year, Beatrice MacNair and Zacharias Corner, and a Gryffindor, Augusta Fawley (but, honestly, if that girl hadn’t been strongly considered for Slytherin, Tom would eat the Sorting Hat). Tom had carefully noted that all of Evans' friends were Purebloods. He was noticing a lot of similarities between them as time went on- Tom had surrounded himself with as many Purebloods from good families as possible before he discovered his heritage to provide him with foundations for the future and powerful allies. Could Evans be doing the same?
Much to Tom's dismay, any enquiries directed to Dante or Alphard about Evans didn't prove fruitful.
("Tom," Dante had said, almost pleadingly, "I simply cannot break his trust. He is a very private person, and I do not know the information you seek. If I ask the questions you want answered, he will become suspicious of me."
"Then how do I get the answers?" Tom had said, mildly irritated.
"Ask him yourself. I can tell you wish to become close with Harry, my Lord. He has shown no dislike of you, he is just rather closed off.")
Tom had found that one of most perplexing things about Evans was the fact that his name definitely was not actually Evans. Tom had glimpsed the Heir ring on Evans' right hand on more than one occasion, before the boy realised he hadn't glamoured it. Tom was never close enough to identify the family crest, but it was not for lack of trying. Tom was sure he would see it clearly one day. For now, all he knew was that the stone in the centre of the ring had a triangular carving.
Oh, and Evans also spoke Parseltongue. The language that only Tom should be able to speak. Evans had kept it to himself, Tom only noticed a week ago because Evans had forgotten to erect a silencing ward around his bed one night and Tom heard him talking to his snake about fucking Arithmancy of all things. He had been the only one awake, still reeling after a nightmare about the Blitz that he really didn't want to dwell on, and this revelation had been a much better distraction for the rest of his sleepless night.
Ah yes, Evans also had a fucking snake. Tom had been rather put off that he wasn't the only Slytherin to keep a serpent, but Nagini had been delighted to find a friend in Evans' Boa Constrictor, Sesha. Tom was really hoping that him and Evans wouldn't be incubating any baby snakes this year- the boy barely spoke to him, he didn't know how they'd pull of co-grandparenting (because Nagini was his baby, no matter that he would never say this aloud to anyone- he raised his beloved Burmese Python from mere days after she hatched when he was in his second year).
Tom had done a lot of research on Parselmouths over the past week, and quickly realised this was something he should have done years ago- seeing as his only non-Slytherin specific knowledge of the area was that Parseltongue was a solely inherited ability, much like the Metamorphmagus ability in the Black line (which Alphard Black had inherited, the lucky bastard).
The Gaunt's had got the ability to speak Parseltongue due to being descendants of the Slytherin line, but the Slytherin line had gotten their ability from the Peverell line. There should be another two branches of the Peverell line, other than Tom's own line which was descended from Cadmus Peverell. From further research, Tom then learnt that Antioch Peverell's line appears to have died out and that one of the descendants of Ignotus Peverell had married into the Potter family, losing their Parseltongue ability in time, whilst another branch of Ignotus' descendants had remained Peverells but gone into hiding within the last couple of centuries. The book mentioned their last recorded location being in India, which had multiple Parselmouth families in itself. Tom had gotten rather excited at this point. Evans was clearly of Indian descent, and Tom really did think he had just cracked a significant part of this mystery. Either Evans was a Peverell, or he was descended from one of the Indian Parselmouth lines- perhaps even a combination of both. Regardless, Evans was definitely a false name.
The following day, Tom had an early morning epiphany that drew him back to the library's section on familial lineages. This time a record of family crests in Britain. He flicked through the book towards the back, with only one destination in mind- the section under the letter 'P'. There before him was his confirmation on Evans' true name, as confirmed by the brief glances Tom had gotten of his normally glamoured Heir ring. The Peverell family crest was a circle within a triangle, with a line down the middle (a symbol that the Dark Lord Grindelwald was seemingly bastardising).
Harrison Evans was Heir Peverell.
Tom was ecstatic. He needed to get to know Evans as much as he needed oxygen to live.
When he had somewhat excitedly explained the end result of his research to Abraxas and Orion, they merely shared a look with raised eyebrows, before Abraxas cleared his throat and said he was glad that Tom would have someone to explore his skill set with. Orion had given a rather undignified snort at that, and Abraxas had swiftly elbowed him in the ribs without sparing him so much as a look. Tom was rather confused.