He Doesn't Even Go Here

Jack could practically sense Malfoy drumming up the nerve to approach him again. Practically every day he stumbled forward towards Jack like he wasn't sure whether he’d like to cry or vomit, and Jack practically had to beat him off with a stick.

For being part of the masses that seemed convinced that Jack was utterly terrifying and worthy of awe and respect, Malfoy certainly was not heeding Jack’s repeated insistence that he wanted nothing to do with the little blonde thing that kept biting at his ankles. It felt like he came to bother Jack every other day like a dog begging for treats. Jack was half considering putting a child leash on him and handing the lead off to Snape—at least in that case, he’d be forced to stay far, far away from Jack.

Jack had even tried getting one of the less annoying babies to deal with him. Blaise Zucchini was a little oddball that never spoke but liked to linger around corners and pretend to read while other people were talking. He’d noticed that Blaise would often linger around Malfoy and wig the other kid out, so he’d figured it was worth a shot. Unfortunately, Zamboni had just returned to him with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 

“I have to kill myself,” Ginny said, turning her head to start bashing it against Jack’s shoulder.

“Tacky,” he said, elbowing her away from him. “Why?” 

“Malfoy is coming over here. Again!” she complained. Jack scrunched up his nose, and whipped his head around to glare at the kid. He stumbled a bit, going even paler than he already was, before puffing up his chest like he was regaining all of his confidence. Jack sneered.

“Make sure you kill me first before you take yourself out.” he muttered. Malfoy finally stopped in front of their common room sofa, little fists balling as he stared at Jack. Malfoy sniffed.

“You know, I really ought to talk to you.” Malfoy said in his childish, whiny voice. 

“You ought to be learning your alphabet and watching Sesame Street, I think.” Jack said, bringing up a hand to rub at his temple. “Gin, go get me water. Thank you, love you.” Jack added with a very fake smile as Ginny stood up while glaring at him. Jack sighed and batted away the pillow she threw at him. Malfoy glanced between Ginny and Jack like he figured Jack was going to hold her face-down in the fireplace. 

“I know my alphabet already, Riddle,” Malfoy said, unable to fully keep the derision out of his voice. Jack raised a brow, but Malfoy just huffed. “It’s really important, you know. I’ve got to tell you because my father is expecting to meet—”

“Is your father also expecting you to come home without a mouth? How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like children? You’re going to give me the flu.”

“You speak to the Girl Weasley all of the time!” Malfoy whined, gesturing at her as she returned with a goblet of water and wide eyes. “She’s not even my age, she’s younger!” 

“Maybe Jack just thinks I’m mature for my age.” Ginny said, sticking up her nose. Jack grimaced.

“Ginny, don’t say it like that,” Jack said, gesturing his goblet at Malfoy before taking a sip. “Ginny doesn’t fucking replace a personality with a mummy and daddy that buy you Scooby Snacks, darling.” 

“Whatever that is, I bet her parents can’t even afford it. Really, Riddle, this is important!” 

“Malfoy, I will get off of this sofa and break your fucking nose.” Ginny said. Malfoy reared back in offense, but didn’t do anything about it. 

“All offense but there is quite literally nothing you can offer me that I consider important.” Jack said.

Malfoy kept blubbering at him, and Jack paused as Ginny muttered; "Well, they are quite rich, but that’s really it…”

Jack reassessed.

“Malfoy, I’ve always loved that shade of blonde, you know. I was blonde once too.” Jack said. He saw Ginny’s head whip around as she gave him an utterly disgusted look. Malfoy looked puzzled too, but Jack just rose to his feet and settled a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder to lead him away from the searing gaze of a judgmental preteen. Malfoy stared at the hand on his shoulder with huge eyes.

“What? I—blonde?” 

“Yes, it’s a color,” Jack said with a bright smile. “Now, tell me what it is that you want.”

Malfoy hesitated, before lowering his voice as if he were sharing a big secret. 

“Well, Dumbledore brought the issue of your summer housing to the Hogwarts Board of Governors. My father is a long trusted member, and my family more than has the means to support you as a guest. The Malfoy Family would be enthusiastic to have you, really. My parents are—well, very respectful of you and your lineage.”

“How nice is your house?” Jack asked.

“Nicer than anyone else's, that’s for certain.” Malfoy said proudly. 

“Well then. Why the fuck did no one tell me?”

“I tried! Well, you were also meant to receive letters from both the Board and the Ministry, and my father said he’d sent you one as well. You didn’t receive any of them?” 

Jack thought for a moment. 

“Well, I’ve just been throwing out all of my mail, really.”

Malfoy blinked at him.

“Is that all?” Jack asked. 

“... My parents want to meet you during the next Hogsmeade weekend. The one on Valentine's Day. I don’t think we can actually let you stay with us until you meet them.” 

“Wonderful.” Jack said, clapping Malfoy hard enough on the back that he jolted. Jack returned to Ginny, who was sat there glaring at him. 

“You’re so greedy.” she said. 

“Thank you, dear.” 

✦

Jack was simply delighted about the Valentine's day festivities. 

Not many were—it seemed most everyone was having an absolutely terrible fucking time about it. In no small part because it seemed like most of Hogwarts disliked Lockhart, sans a few girls… and Jack! But it was the exact sort of obnoxious nonsense that entertained him endlessly. Some of it was certainly tacky, like the poem Ginny had shown him that she planned to send to Harry, but Jack had bravely shaken her out of that delusion by threatening to throw her off of the Astronomy tower.  

Throughout the day, Jack had been approached by four dwarves that read off Valentines and then had been discreetly given about thirteen more. Jack was currently unfolding a Valentine that somebody had placed in his bag without his knowledge.

“I figured you’d hate all of this after you shit on my poem. Find it all tacky, maybe.” said Ginny. 

“Why on earth would I hate it? Everyone other than me is miserable—it’s perfect.” he said. Ginny frowned. Jack’s brows rose as he read the Valentine, which he was surprised to see was from Ginny’s twin brothers. Jack read it once, then twice, and then burst out laughing. 

Roses are red, violets are blue

With a name like Jack Riddle you’re clearly a tool

But since it’s Valentine’s Day we’ll throw you a bone

Though we’d rather be snogging a hag or a crone

We’ll admit that you’re fit, though it makes us quite sick

Yet you overcompensate with all of that talk

And that’s how we know you've got a small cock!

Yours insincerely,

Gred & Forge Weasley

Who kindly implore you

To stay away from their little sister!

Harry was exhausted. 

He felt like he was dealing so much between all of his classes, keeping an eye on Riddle, and checking out and reading books that Riddle and Ginny returned to the library. The ones that weren’t restricted, anyways. Harry being this stressed in both his first and second years of the school that had initially felt like an escape didn’t feel like a very good sign - what exactly were the rest of his years at Hogwarts going to be like? Hogwarts itself was wonderful, and he loved his friends so much it made him giddy sometimes, but this year it’s feeling like he’s just getting something unpleasant shoved at him to keep him from enjoying himself.

Harry had felt a bit better laughing over the Valentine’s poem Fred and George had written to Riddle, but then Hermione started fussing over what kind of reaction Riddle might have, and Harry started freaking out too. Fortunately, Riddle didn’t actually seem to care much when they saw him again at Dinner. Unfortunately, Ginny was sitting at the Slytherin table today, which made Ron, Harry, and Hermione all sulk. 

It was a little over half an hour until curfew, and Harry just wanted to relax a bit before bed. He grabbed his invisibility cloak, just in case, and put on his slippers and left the Gryffindor common room. Harry sort of just roamed for a minute, before deciding he’d like to get a bit of air. He didn’t want to stay out past curfew, for once, so he made sure to make his way straight to the Astronomy tower. 

It was chilly, especially up so high, and Harry bundled himself up a bit tighter in his clothes. He moved over to lean against the railing, gazing out over the pretty hilltops and the tips of the trees. 

“Fucking kill me.” said a familiar voice. Harry immediately whipped around, drawing his wand and aiming it at Riddle, who was standing by the stairs with a book tucked under his arm. Riddle’s usually impeccable hair was mussed from the wind. Harry was briefly distracted by the curls blowing back off of Riddle’s forehead before remembering what he was doing. 

“Did you follow me?” Harry asked sharply, trying hard not to sound terrified. He second guessed standing so close to the ledge of the tower, so he took a few steps towards Riddle. 

“Why would I do that?” Riddle asked, ignoring the wand pointed at him and heading straight to the railing. He set his elbows down on the metal and opened his book. Harry didn’t let his guard down and kept his wand pointed at Riddle, taking slow steps towards him.

“Because I’m Harry Potter and Voldemort is your dad. And I can’t have anything nice.” Harry said. 

“And Madonna is the Queen of Pop.” Riddle muttered, flipping a page of his book. Madonna? Whatever. Harry tried to peer at the pages, but the text was too small. Damn—he’d have to get closer.

“What are you reading?” Harry asked, hesitant to step forward.

“A book. It has words and shit in it.”

“I know what a book is! Do you act like this on purpose?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling more irritated than afraid. Riddle glanced up from his book to shoot Harry a mildly surprised look. Harry startled and cursed himself for it.

“Usually, yes.” Riddle said, gaze roaming curiously over Harry. Harry swore he saw Riddle laugh when he saw Harry’s slippers, but Riddle turned back to his book. 

“Accio Riddle’s book!” Harry said, and the book zipped into his hand. It was heavy, so Harry stumbled a bit, trying to keep his wand up with one hand and holding the book to his chest with the other. He turned it over to the cover. Ancient Astronomy and Modern Magical Connections. 

“That was rude.” Riddle said.

“I don’t really care.” Harry said, before holding up the book. “Why do you have this?” Riddle opened his mouth, but Harry spoke first. “Don’t say to read it, either. What does this book have that you’re so interested in, and why’d you come up here to read it so close to curfew?”

Riddle sighed, and placed a hand on his hip, cocking his head to the side in agitation. Harry stared as he brushed back his hair. Harry jolted when Riddle moved that hand to make some sort of gesture at Harry, and Harry’s heart sped up as he thought for a split second that Riddle might be trying to wandlessly blast him over the railing. But the book just opened, pages flipping. Harry hesitated to look at the page, not wanting to look away from Riddle. Riddle rolled his eyes. 

“Do you think I’m going to kill you on school property? Come here. Stand where I was standing.” Riddle said, moving away from the railing. Harry shot him an incredulous look.

“You think I’m going to stand closer to the railing?” 

“If I wanted to kill you there are far less complicated ways to do it.” Riddle said. Harry hesitantly moved forward and stood in Riddle’s spot. Riddle moved near him and Harry almost yelled Ah-ha! At him, but then Riddle was just taking the book from him and holding it up. Riddle moved the book around and tilted his head as he did so, brows furrowing. 

“Ah. Look.” Riddle said, satisfied with whatever he was doing.

Harry stared. He was just looking at some guy holding a book over a railing. Riddle made an annoyed noise and then pointed at the illustration on the upper half of the two-page spread.

“The illustration consists of runic symbols," Riddle said, his voice laced heavily with impatience. "But it explains that these symbols align perfectly with the celestial configuration of the stars during this specific time of year. The placement of each rune corresponds to the position of a particular star. It has magical significance of some kind.” 

“Oh.” Harry said. That explained why Riddle was up here, but it didn’t really explain why he was up here so late or why he cared about this book. He was about to ask, but Riddle was taking his book and heading to the other side of the tower. 

“Excuse you.” Harry said, and was ignored. Harry just stood there and watched, stewing in building anger as Riddle read over the text and pretended that Harry didn’t exist. Harry let out a huff and slowly lowered his wand. 

“I don’t trust you.” Harry said. 

“Thank you.” Riddle said, flipping to the next page.

“I heard your conversation at the lake, you know. With Ginny. You said you were using dark magic to feed off of her.” 

That sure made Riddle look at him. Riddle snapped his book shut and gave Harry a look as if he were considering if Harry was capable of thought for the first time. 

“I don’t know what you did to make her think what you’re doing to her is okay, but I know it can’t have been good. And all of those books on binding magic, blood magic. And—and whatever it was that you did to me in the hallway! You know, I killed your dad twice, Riddle, and I’m more than capable of defending myself and anyone else that I care about.”

Riddle stared at Harry for a moment, before his lips pursed like he was trying not to laugh.

“Yes, alright. Fucking Harry Potter.” he said, and Harry watched helplessly as Riddle left the Astronomy tower.

✦

Jack Riddle looked far too much like the Dark Lord. 

It made Narcissa feel slightly ill, honestly. 

In those last years, the Dark Lord had begun to look odd. Vaguely inhuman, his eyes an unnatural red and his skin near-white and flaking near his temples and at his jaw. His hands had begun to turn incredibly thin and spidery, his nails sharp and long. Narcissa had never really known what he had looked like when he was younger, and she never had the mind to wonder. But meeting Jack Riddle had felt like she was being handed information she was never meant to have. 

Riddle was a tall, pretty young boy, well kept and frankly, slightly slouchy. But the structure of his face, the shape of him, the sound of his voice, even, was so like him that it was uncanny. It had been her husband’s decision to take in the boy for the summer, and Narcissa had argued against it vehemently. Lucius had just barely maintained his innocence in the years after the war, and that was only in the eyes of the ministry. She was more than aware that no one truly thought them anything but loyal Death Eaters. Lucius eagerly taking in the son of the Dark Lord immediately made her skin crawl, and seeing the boy’s face only justified this feeling. She thought about her little boy begging for attention and validation from Riddle, and her dread only increased.

The meeting had not gone particularly wrong, per say. Jack Riddle was witty and bearable in a way that Narcissa was hard pressed to find in many teenagers. She had the thought more than once that he quite reminded her of Lucius when he was younger.

Riddle and Lucius got along quite well, all things considered. Both seemed to be equally vindictive and somewhat shallow, and Lucius was always more than happy to suck up to the most promising source of power. 

Narcissa couldn’t ponder the discomfort that Jack Riddle brought her for much longer, as Severus entered their drawing room. Narcissa rose immediately to approach him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, but Severus always looked vaguely uncomfortable. 

“It is wonderful to see you, Severus. You look healthy.” she said.

“And I am glad to see you are well.” said Severus with a brief inclination of his head, before turning to greet Lucius. 

“He’s brilliant.” Lucius said, rising to shake Severus’ hand. Severus nodded.

“Isn’t he?” 

“He looks just like him.”

“Doesn’t he.”

Narcissa sat beside Lucius as Severus sat across from them. Narcissa took Lucius’ hand in hers and entwined their fingers. Lucius gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but she suspected it was more out of excitement than for comfort's sake. There were a few minutes of idle conversation about nothing—what Lucius and Narcissa had been doing, Draco’s performance in school, and Severus’ work. They were all brought wine by a house elf, and then it felt as if a heavy fog settled over the room. 

“Riddle was particularly interested in the manor. Our wealth, as well. He didn’t linger overmuch on it—I suspected that he wanted to make sure he would be secure with us.” Lucius said.

“I wondered. He has mentioned his mother only to say that she had passed shortly before he arrived at Hogwarts, and I could only assume he quite literally had nowhere else to go.” Severus said. 

“I asked about his mother,” Narcissa said softly. “He said she was dead, but he also said he hadn’t lived with her for some time.” 

Severus’ brows rose. 

“He said that? Did he say anything about who she was?” 

“No. He changed the subject rather quickly after I asked.”

“You two are unbearable gossips,” Lucius said as if he was not also an unbearable gossip. He seemed bored with where the conversation was going, and Narcissa sighed. 

“He mentioned the Weasley girl quite a bit, you know. I thought it was so odd and figured he was joking at first, but then he said that she and him were close. And he wanted to be sure that he could visit her over the summer.” Lucius said. 

That had puzzled Narcissa, as well. Lucius conveniently left out the part where Jack had become so noticeably agitated that Lucius wasn’t taking him seriously that dark magic had begun crackling noticeably in the air around him, and Lucius had stammered a correction that Jack could see the little Weasley whenever he’d like. 

“Unfortunately, I am unsurprised,” Severus said, sneering. “He and the Weasley girl are inseparable, glued at the hip since he first transferred. He has her trailing him to my common room and sitting at the Slytherin table whenever she likes.” 

“How odd. He must sense… something in her, I suppose.” Lucius said, leaning back in the chair. He drummed his fingers against his chin as he absently gazed at the Malfoy family portrait above the fireplace. Narcissa was too tense to even smile in return when the little portrait Draco caught her eye and waved enthusiastically at her. 

“Draco wrote to tell us that Riddle has aspirations of becoming the Minister of Magic in the future.” Narcissa said, because she’d had a near painful churning in her stomach after she had first received the letter. Lucius brightened beside her as Severus’s gaze darted severely towards Narcissa. 

“Oh, yes. The Dark Lord's son, here, with us, seeking power. Frankly, I am eager with anticipation.” Lucius said. Narcissa did not share in his confidence. 

“The Minister of Magic. Ambitious.” Severus said plainly, and Narcissa furrowed her brows as he lifted his wine glass and chugged the rest of it.

✦

“The Minister of Magic?” Albus repeated, his glasses low on his nose and his hands folded tightly together. Albus was not a man to appear weighed down by his age, but at this moment he certainly looked weary and tired.

“That is what Narcissa said that Draco said. I cannot verify it beyond that.” Severus said. He half expected, or perhaps wanted, Albus to laugh and say that Draco was prone to exaggeration anyways. But he did not. 

“An honorable goal for young Jack,” was all Albus said, rising to purposelessly examine the myriad of baubles and trinkets on his shelves. “Thank you, Severus. You’re free to go.”