Chapter 2
Tom Marvelo Riddle, the heir of Slytherin, the great Dark Lord Voldemort, knows that he has lost as soon as Dumbledore confronts Haryana Potter in the hell he’s found himself in. He’s stuck in a loop of memories, each highlighting her constant murder of him.
The basilisk fang.
The sword of Gryffindor.
The Fiend Fire.
Letting him shoot the killing curse into her face.
Every one echoes painfully throughout his tiny little body and he should hate her, he should despise her for this. To be defeated by a child who thought tossing a disarming jinx at his was considered proper duelling.
He can’t though because now that he is, mostly, whole he can see all of the points where he set himself up for failure. With every step, Dumbledore twisted them together so he could continue being the world’s hero.
“I didn’t want this.” She had said when Dumbledore had left them. “I just wanted to be a child.” She had whispered in agony. “I saw a boy who lived like I had.” She had said in sorrow.
It was not a hard choice to reach out to comfort her, no matter how much it burned when their skin connected, because they were the same in their past. Hurt by muggles because the Wizarding world couldn’t care less about them.
He has those memories too, the ones from the Horcrux that sat in her head for all but the first year of her life. Memories drenched in pain before and after she had known about her magic.
Why would he not comfort a part of himself?
He is rewarded by her pulling him into the past with her, with her choosing him over everyone she knew and loved but it is understandable. Why would she choose anything but a part of herself?
“What the fuck Tom.” She groans as she covers her eyes and flops onto the bed. “I bet you’re laughing yourself to death, bastard.”
He had not expected this outcome, floating in warm light as he looks through Haryana’s eyes. He’s a baby, not anything bigger than the mere thought of one at the moment, and she is to be his mother. It is… fitting, they were bound in death so why not could they be bound in life as well. His mother, it is pleasing to think he finds. He had always envisioned having magickly powerful parents and there was no doubt of Haryana’s power. His equal.
And yes, he did find this terribly amusing.
He finds that he doesn’t mind this role he has been given, watching Haryana as she manipulated those around her to garner sympathy while also explaining him in a way that would make any, likely Dumbledore, look monstrous should they try and take him away. Watching her thoughts dart past as she calculated the best way to work their trip to the past was so very interesting.
He is entirely fascinated and he knows that it will be no hardship to spend the next four years hovering around her mind.
What he doesn’t expect is for Death to be pretending to be a little old bookshop owner.
“Hello, Tom.” He hears echo hollowly in his little spot in Haryana’s mind, it makes him stiffen involuntarily when he recognises the voice. It’s not the one he was using to speak to Haryana.
“James Potter?” He asks slowly making hollow laughter surround him.
“Quite the sharp mind, Tom.” James chuckles as he steps out of the shadows in the corner of Haryana's mind. “Seeing as you’ve only heard my voice once.” When you murdered me is not said out loud, but he hears it rattling around his mind all the same.
“I…” What can he say? How do you apologise to Death for murdering them?
“Snake got your tongue?” James snickers as he stalks around him. “Relax, we’re family after all.” He says with a threatening number of teeth in his smile.
“How?” He asks because he finds that he can’t apologise to the being. Killing James and Lily Potter had brought him Haryana and he would not be returning the gift of a competent mother.
James laughs uproariously. “Oh, you are my grandson. Completely unrepentant if the results are in your favour. If you must know being immortal gets dull so every few millennia I step into the body of a stillborn and have a delightful holiday playing mortal. This time I just so happened to be James Potter and all the pitfalls that came with it. I’m sure you know how delightful love potions make a marriage. I would have much preferred taking the darling Grim as a lover but Haryana is a lovely result so I’m not too upset about it, even if Fate is pissed that I spawned a demi-god. This is a tad confusing actually because they are the one who decide most of these things… Anyway all I wanted to say was that there are no hard feelings, it’s quite a relief to be of my own mind again actually, and welcome to the family. Do try and keep our darling Haryana safe, Fate is extraordinarily angry that I’ve decided to step in to ensure her happiness.”
“I… will.” He says slowly when the deity pauses in its constant movement making it grin sharply.
“Good boy,” James says with a slightly condescending pat to his head before he fades. "There, all done. Have fun at school and I'll see you in the winter for our Gringotts official meeting." He winks at Haryana in the physical world before hobbling behind one of the many bookcases.
This is a distressing amount of information to suddenly have but also an empowering one. Death had called him grandson, they had called Haryana a demi-god which meant that he was one too now. He would have to be ready to fight Fate to keep Haryana happy but that was what the both of them were doing anyway by just being here.
It also makes him unendingly smug, she may have had her core bound but Fate had called him equal to a demi-god of death. Had made him strong enough to be her equal so that Fate could be rid of her before she claimed her birthright.
It was backfiring on them now but that just makes the knowledge sweeter.
The book on beginners' necromance bites and he has many plans to kill Wormtail for the faulty book but, like most information he’s gathered through Haryana’s mind, it does not make him murderously angry like it would have before. Mostly because he knows this book being in Haryana’s hands is Death’s way of laughing at him more while also giving him more information about their family domain.
He wonders if Haryana will be curious enough to become a necromancer, if he will dedicate time to the skill instead. There is no reason for him to pursue immortality now that it has all but been gifted to him so what will his new focus be?
Maybe he would take up elemental magics like he had wanted to before bombs had dropped on muggle London and confronted him with his [no longer] mortality, or he could travel more just to explore instead of hunting for a tiara. He could do both and more now.
It was freeing to consider.
“Well, M-Miss Potter. I just w-wanted you to k-know that no m-matter what you’ll a-always be welcome here. T-To talk or just t-to hide. We are all s-scared of something and I h-have taken a lot of e-effort to make this p-place a repellent f-for most monsters.”
He is disappointed with this fractured creature claiming to be a powerful Dark Lord. How blatant he was being with his attempt to garner favour from Haryana as if a simple offer of a room she had every right to enter at any point would have her throwing herself at his feet in gratitude.
He was, frankly, insulted that this little shrived speck of a man thought his mother would ever fall for such a tactic. More insulted that he had ever been this speck of wasted magic. He grows more and more frustrated with the disgusting little thing as time goes on, especially when Haryana insinuates that it has enough importance to strike a truce with.
Did she not understand how much better she was than it? That she could just kill the vile little creature and get a more permanent peace with so little effort?
He’s so frustrated with the whole thing that he pushed more magic than he should forward when the snivelling wizard decides to strike Haryana but it is quite satisfying to watch her using his magic to cause the most pain she could without a second thought. He supposed having Voldemort simpering at her heels was beneficial for her at the moment, someone in Hogwarts who knew enough to be weary of fucking with her.
Weather magics are an interesting subject and he can feel his mother’s interest in them swimming around him, he imagines how glorious she would be commanding hurricanes and devastating thunderstorms so he can ignore Voldemort pandering to her like a fool. Pushing a few of the more devastating images to her because he wants her to see the potential of her power too.
He supposes he can see what his grandfather sees in Black, the man was objectively powerful and clearly adored his mother if his complete breakdown at the childish nickname was any indication. So long as Mother is happy he will protect the man he decides, she has so little to be happy about after all.
Wrions is still his favourite though, the little goblin’s viciousness never fails to make his mother happy. He’s looking forward to watching her procure the wizarding world for his mother. World domination was such an easy concept when 
was thrown at it.
He’s only a little upset he didn’t think about it first.