Hidden in Plain Sight

Tom Riddle strode through the halls of Hogwarts confidently. It was nearing the end of his fifth year, and it was finally time for the start of OWLs. He had spent weeks preparing for this day, and was fully confident in his ability to excel, and break several school records in the process. He was top of his class, and was well aware that not a single other student came close.

Once he had arrived at the doors for the testing hall, he was swiftly joined by his loyal followers. Lucius Malfoy and his twin brother, Draco, were the first at his side, followed by the brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. He had followers in nearly all year levels, of course, but this entourage was made of those also set to take OWLs.

“I do hope you are all well prepared,” Tom spoke to those around him quietly, not overly concerned about being overheard but not particularly wanting to be seen threatening his minions either. “We can only be seen as the best. We have much to accomplish after Hogwarts, and our OWL and NEWT scores will speak for us more than most words will.”

Lucius shifted his head down quickly (a nod to any other eyes, but recognizable as a bow to them). “Of course. We will always be the best, with you at the helm.”

Tom smirked. “Excellent.” He paused as the doors to the hall opened. “Let's go.”

The fifth year students filed slowly into the hall, looking around at the rows and rows of desks. “Good afternoon, students,” an old voice called out clearly from the front of the room. Everyone looked forward to see an elder witch standing there in sharp black robes, gray hair pulled into a tight bun, with sharp, dark eyes. “I am Madam Griselda Marchbanks, governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, and I will be observing your OWLs today along with your instructors. Please find the desk with your nameplate, and we will begin.”

Tom found his desk quickly. At the moment, he was surrounded by a couple of Ravenclaws and one Slytherin witch who hadn't caught his eye enough to be pulled in like her year mates. Greengrass something? The Ravenclaws he recognized as Terry Boot, a quiet and unimpressive sort, and Luna Lovegood, who was undoubtedly intelligent but disgustingly cheerful and odd to the point of discomfort – well, at least discomfort for everyone around her. She didn't seem to care.

He nearly jumped when he realized, during his perusal of the students immediately around him, the seat to the right of him had been filled. He used the opportunity to observe the instructors in the far right corner of the hall to discreetly look at the student next to him.

The student was clearly a Ravenclaw as well, due to the blue lining and embroidery of his robes. He was small, so small Tom wouldn't have normally pegged him for a fifth year at all. He had shaggy, wild black hair, just long enough to swirl in tufts around his face and brush the collar of his robes. As he shifted, Tom got a brief look at his face; he had high cheekbones, though slightly softer than his own sharp ones, a thin but pleasant face, soft petal lips with a perfect little cupid's bow, and a button nose that, if Tom were the sort to think such things, could be called cute. As if sensing his eyes on him, the boy turned, and behind large, round glasses Tom caught a glimpse of stunningly vibrant green eyes before they widened and snapped down to the desk. In fact, the boy's entire head bowed, his shoulders hunched over, as if he were trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.

And Tom...Tom was dismayed to realize he had no clue who this was. How was that possible? He had made a point of being the perfect, most charming classmate, always helpful, always with a smile ready to put the skittish children at ease. Always doing everything in his power to draw people in to his orbit, to be used or kept from being used against him later. Tom thought he knew nearly every student in the school, especially his own year mates, no matter what house they belonged to, and yet he knew nothing about this boy whatsoever.

Tom frowned before turning to fully face forward again. He was here for a reason, and he couldn't afford to get distracted by such a minor oversight. He could always gather information from his minions after the tests were over, and besides, what did one little Ravenclaw matter?

Tom managed to keep his focus on his OWLs throughout the week, despite the mysterious distraction continuing to sit next to him. The only thing he did allow himself to notice during testing week is that he never, ever saw the little Ravenclaw in the Great Hall for meals, and rarely saw him in the hallways. He had only managed to catch sight of him twice: once climbing the last staircase up to the seventh floor, clearly heading for his dorms, and once (oddly) coming out of a corridor near the Hufflepuff commons after lunch.

Friday evening, after testing had finally completed, Tom met his dorm mates in the little sitting area of their rooms. “Good evening, everyone. Congratulations on completing your OWLs, and I look forward to our results come this summer.” Draco, Blaise, Lucius, Rodolphus, and Rabastan bowed their heads to him in gratitude, with eagerness and pride dancing in their eyes. “Now that the important matters for this week are resolved, I had a bit of...curiosity, to satisfy.” The sycophants surrounding him quickly voiced their eagerness to assist. “In the name of preparedness and networking, I have made a point of at least introducing myself to as many of our fellow students as possible, if for nothing else than to test the waters and feel out both potential allies and likely obstacles for our cause. However, in the testing hall, I found myself seated next to a student I was not familiar with. I thought I already knew all of our year mates, and he was small enough to be a third year, so I wonder; is there a younger student already taking his OWLs? A prodigy, perhaps?”

Tom, of course, was loathe to admit he had overlooked a year mate in his networking games.

Lucius shook his head. “Not that I'm aware of, my Lord. As far as we know all of the students taking the OWLs this year were true fifth years.”

Draco seemed to straighten then, a spark of recognition in his eyes. “Ravenclaw? Scrawny, hideous glasses, rat's nest for hair?”

Well, Tom wouldn't exactly term the boy's wild locks as rat's nest but... “Yes, sounds about right. Do you know him?”

Draco snorted. “I know of him. I wouldn't worry yourself overmuch, my Lord. Trust me, he isn't anyone worth knowing.”

Tom slowly stroked his fingers over his yew wand. “Draco, you forget yourself. How about you let your Lord decide this for himself, hm?”

Draco gulped, and bowed his head quickly. “Of course, my Lord. I am being honest, though; Potter's not worth knowing. Just some mudblood Ravenclaw who doesn't seem to have any friends. Er-” Draco shot a quick look at Blaise. “Blaise, Pansy, and I occasionally find him in the halls. Remind him of his place.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “If you don't really know who he is, how do you know he's a mudblood?”

Lucius rubbed a hand at his chin. “Potter. That name is familiar. If you like, my Lord, I can look into it, get a little more information on him?”

Tom nodded. “See that you do. It would not serve us well to be blindsided by a player we didn't see coming, now would it?”

It took days for Lucius to finally report back to him with information on Potter. By the time he approached Tom again, it was two days before the end of term.

“Lucius. Walk with me.”

Tom led Lucius up to the Room of Requirement. It was unusual for him to take so much interest in a single student, and while he could play it off well enough that he was focusing attention on someone who managed to slip under their notice for five years, well...

It was still best to have this meeting in private.

“You cut this closer than I would have liked, Lucius. What did you find on the Potter boy?”

Lucius bowed. “I apologize, my Lord. Gathering the information was trickier than I expected.” Lucius straightened, then wrinkled his nose slightly. “I honestly thought Draco was being as dramatic as usual when he said the boy was friendless, but it seems it wasn't much of an exaggeration. As far as I could find, the only person he seems to remotely have any kinship with is Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw fifth year. Flitwick seems to have a bit of a soft spot for him, too, though a very distant, professional one.” He paused. “Snape seems to hate the boy with an impressive level of passion. We've not really seen it since we don't share potions with the Claws, but...” he hesitated again.

Tom sighed. “What is it, Lucius?”

Lucius shook his head. “I'm honestly not sure how accurate most of this information is. Most of it came from students who share classes with him, and he is not...well liked. In fact...” he fidgeted, which was very unlike Lucius Malfoy. “He seems to be pretty hated by most of the Claws, Gryffindors, and whichever Slytherins even notice him. The Puffs seem to just ignore him, which is about the same as intense dislike from that house.”

“Was it clear at all why?”

“Well, they certainly gave their reasons for it. Most advertised it as arrogance. That as soon as he stepped onto the train as a first year he didn't talk to anyone, and they all seem to think it's because he is rude, and thinks himself too good for them.”

“And you don't.”

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. “I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character, my Lord. That my ability to read people is one of the best skills I bring to you. The entire time I was gathering information, I made sure to watch him. I went over some of my own memories in a pensieve, too. I never noticed until I started looking into him that he is in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy with us. I think he takes Care as an elective, too.” Lucius sighed. “Point is, I've been watching him. If that boy is arrogant, I'm a centaur. True, he doesn't interact with anyone around him on his own, but...the few times I've seen people interact with him? It's either Flitwick, who gets quiet respect, Lovegood, who gets very muffled platonic affection, and everyone else gets fear.” Lucius gave a smooth shrug. “It's quite clear that the few who interact with him other than Lovegood or Flitwick are bullying him at best. Draco must have already forgotten you were looking into him; I caught him cornering Potter with Blaise and Pansy more than once. I think he knows far more about Potter than he let on, because his particular interactions are – well, cruel.”

Lucius may have been throwing his brother under the bus a little bit, though he was having a hard time caring at the moment. He may have felt just a bit bad for Potter after everything he found out.

Just a little.

“Oh?” Tom frowned. Something about everything Lucius had told him so far was making a strange little spot behind his solar plexus sit heavy. It was uncomfortable, and he did not like to feel uncomfortable.

Lucius pulled out a folder; it appeared to be a copy of the student files the heads of house kept in their offices. “Managed to snag a copy of this while Flitwick was in a staff meeting.” He flipped it open and passed it over to Tom.

Stuck to the top right was a picture that Lucius appeared to have taken himself. It was a zoomed in photo of Potter's face, apparently outside due to the blue sky in the background and the wind blowing his wild locks about, His expression was passive, and his eyes never looked straight towards the viewer (Lucius apparently managed to get the shot without the boy noticing), but every now and again the slightest, softest smile would curve the very edges of his lips as he looked at something off in the distance. In the upper left, in bold print, was POTTER, HARRY.

“I'm guessing this is the news that got to Draco one way or another, but he's an orphan, apparently, something Draco seems to love reminding him about. His father was James Potter, a pretty successful pureblood auror, and his mother was Lily Potter nee Evans, a muggleborn charms mistress. Apparently a lot of the old families took offense to that, which is why you don't hear the pureblood circles talk about the Potters much anymore. Back on Halloween after the boy's third birthday, a dark witch showed up at their house in Godric's Hollow. Apparently James Potter had previously arrested Bellatrix Black for torturing some muggles, but her family managed to bribe her way out of Azkaban. At least, they did, until she tortured and killed James and Lily Potter. And tortured their child. Apparently a family friend showed up just in time to keep her from killing him too, but needless to say the Blacks couldn't keep Bellatrix out a second time.”

Tom sneered. “Indeed.” He may have no love for muggles or mudbloods, but even he wasn't twisted enough to contemplate torturing and murdering infants. “Where does Potter live now?”

Lucius huffed a sigh, a positively uncouth expression of emotion for him. “Take a look at the folder.”

He looked closer, and found about half way down the first document:

GUARDIAN(S): AUNT [REDACTED], MUGGLE, UNCLE [REDACTED], MUGGLE

ADDRESS: [REDACTED], LITTLE WHINGING, SURREY

CONTACT BY FLOO? [NO]

CONTACT BY OWL? [FATAL EMERGENCY ONLY]

Tom frowned fiercely. “He's being raised by muggles?”

“Apparently. I'm almost more concerned about the fact that their names and exact addresses were removed. That is very much not standard protocol for student files, especially since that information would be needed to reach the family in the event of an emergency. Those censors are magical too; the only owls that would make it are ones sent by someone who already knows the information that's being hidden, and Flitwick doesn't know.”

Tom's eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

“I managed to have a private word with Flitwick.” Lucius ran a hand over his hair. “I told him I was interested in writing to Potter over the summer, but I was having trouble finding him to ask for his address. Flitwick told me I'd just have to ask Potter, and that he didn't know his address anyway. In fact,” his eyebrows furrowed, “I swear I saw his eyes glaze over for a moment when he said that.”

“You think he's under compulsion?”

“I'm pretty sure of it. That would be a massive breach of emergency protocol, if the head of house can't reach their students during the summer, or their families. It has to be an impressively powerful one, as well, to work on a half-goblin so well.”

Tom wanted nothing more than to pace, though he wouldn't give in to such an emotional display in front of his minion. He wasn't the most compassionate of people, sure, he could recognize that, but nothing Lucius had told him so far was sitting well with him at all. Maybe it was the fact that Potter's life seemed a little too familiar to him, a little too much like the orphanage he had grown up in (at least, before his heritage came out – before classmates left and right were vying for him to choose their homes or manors to stay in during the summer, and proud as he was, he wasn't stupid enough to turn such offers down). Something about the combination of everything he had learned was raising alarm bells in his mind against his will. “Anything else?”

Lucius sighed. “Nothing concrete, I'm afraid. He's...twitchy, for lack of a better way to phrase it. Every time I've watched him he seems to recoil at any incoming touch, even if it's from Lovegood, though with all of the bullying I'm honestly not surprised.”

That, and maybe something else, Tom couldn't help but think.

“Also, his score placement is incredibly low for a Ravenclaw, but even that seems to be a bit off. His written test scores and in-class demonstrations are frequently near the top of the class, and at the top in DADA and Care, but his overall scores are abysmal due to frequently failing to turn in homework and projects, and his practical work in Potions is often explosive. After everything else I've seen, though...”

“You think his potions are being sabotaged, and since Snape hates him he just allows it to happen, and I doubt any of the professors are noticing if his classmates are destroying his homework and projects.” Tom sighed. The amount of bad luck Potter seemed to have was astounding. To have essentially the entire school hate him for seemingly no reason? It was like a bad muggle TV drama. “Well, I appreciate it all the same, Lucius. We'll talk more this summer when we've a little more time to dedicate to the topic.”

The evening before the Express would take the students back to London, Tom found himself meandering the grounds. He didn't fear the summer hols, not anymore, but there was still something mildly depressing about leaving Hogwarts. Even if he did have his life under control now, even if he did have a place to go back to he didn't dread, the castle would always feel like home.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he heard a faint chuckle on the wind. His wandering had brought him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and someone was clearly just inside the border. Intrigued (and fully prepared to take points as prefect), he stepped lightly under the trees to find the source.

It seemed that Fate had plans, as the chuckle apparently came from none other than Potter.

Potter, who was floating in the air, as if he was astride something, and running a soothing palm down even more thin air.

As Tom approached, a branch snapped under his boot. Potter seemed to jerk, as if something startled beneath him, and he was quick to shush the whatever-it-was.

“O-oh, Riddle! Sorry, ah...I know I'm not supposed to be in here, but, well, they get lonely, you see...”

Tom raised a brow. “What gets lonely?”

Potter flushed, his head turned down so that his hair covered his eyes. “Er, sorry, the thestrals. Most people can't see them, and I mean, I'm glad they can't, but a lot of those who can get all nervous and scared of them, but they're really very gentle, and, you know, very nice...”

Ah. So, he must have been in the same room when at least one of his parents died. “I suppose it is a bit of a blessing to not be able to see them, though I will admit I'm curious. Do they like everyone, then, or just you?”

“Oh, most people really! They can be shy, I mean, since some people aren't very nice to them. People tend to react poorly to things that scare them, or that they don't understand.” Potter looked away then, an odd expression crossing his face. “So, Luna and I sometimes come find them, so they don't feel so alone.”

Tom strode forward, close enough that he could touch the invisible creature if he wished. “Lovegood can see them, too?”

“Ah, yes,” Harry started. “It-it's not my story to tell, sorry, but yes, she can.” He huffed. “There's only three or four others, I think. Kids who were there when an elderly relative passed. They all screamed the first time they saw the thestrals. They're not scary! Just a little...bony.”

Tom couldn't help but decide that he quite liked the little flush that dusted Potter's cheeks. He was small – and, as Lucius said, twitchy – but apparently beneath that skittish exterior there was still a bit of fire, even if it only seemed to be used for defending creatures. He took a step closer. “From what I've read, 'bony' is a bit of an understatement.” His hand raised to about where he thought the thestral's head might be. “Am I close? Will it be opposed if I touch it?”

Harry beamed, and Tom had to fight the urge to squirm under the brightness of that smile, at the deepening flush on the boy's cheeks. “He won't mind at all! Here, let me help.” Harry gently clasped his wrist in between his own palms, and guided Tom's hand until suddenly, it met resistance.

It felt like a horse's neck, but instead of short, bristly hair and muscle he felt leathery skin wrapped tight over a thin, skeletal frame. One of Harry's hands still rested on his wrist, guiding his hand down in a gentle pat, while the other moved to stroke down next to Tom's.

“I see what you mean, by gentle,” Tom murmured after a few moments of petting the thestral with no lurching movement beneath his hand. “I would not think that would be the case with a creature so closely associated with death.”

Harry paused, then cocked his head to the side in thought. “Well, it's true that dying itself isn't always gentle,” he said, and Tom wondered if he was thinking of his parents in that moment, “but Death itself is about as gentle as anything could be, I think.”

Tom raised his eyebrows in utter disbelief and did his best to make sure the look he threw Potter wasn't too condescending. “How do you figure that?”

Fortunately, Harry wasn't looking at him, too focused on the form beneath him. “Well...I know most people are scared of dying, but I don't think I've ever really been. I mean...to me, it just always seemed like going to bed at the end of a very, very long day. Sure, I don't know what's waiting for me the next day, but...if something happened to make it my time, it'd probably be a relief to finally 'go to sleep', in a manner of speaking, right?”

Well, that was a perfectly morbid point of view.

“Hypothetically,” Tom hedged carefully, “if you had the option to live forever, philosopher's stone or golden apple or whatever, would you not take it then?”

Harry shook his head violently. “Oh, definitely not! I mean-” he cut himself off and seemed to be threading his fingers through the mane below him, his eyebrows gently furrowed in thought. “When it's my time, I'm happy to go. I have a lot of dreams I want to chase once I graduate Hogwarts, and – never mind how long it'd probably take to accomplish, being immortal would just...cheapen the experience, I think. Dreams are sweetest when you have to really work for them, I think, and being immortal would just make it too easy. Not to mention, when you can live forever, I imagine it's nothing to just forget to live and see the world around you, you know? Oh, not at first, I'm sure, but after the first handful of centuries, I imagine it would all just start to- to blend together. It'd stop meaning anything, because in the face of forever, what would any of the day-to-day moments matter?” He suddenly stopped and cringed at Tom's slightly cold blank face. “Er, sorry. Didn't mean to go on, don't really know what I'm talking about. S-see you later Riddle!” And before Tom could blink, Harry had slid off the thestral and left for the castle, seeming to blend into the night.

Well.

Tom stared out of the window of his train compartment the next morning. The Express was making its way back to London, and even so many hours later his mind was still whirling behind his carefully blank expression, thinking of the previous night's encounter. He hadn't meant for Potter to think his expression last night meant he was angry with him, and he certainly hadn't wanted to scare the boy off, but it was perhaps for the best, as afterwards Tom very much felt the need to think in solitude. As much as he railed against it, as much as he didn't want to admit it...

...by the fucking gods, Potter had a point.

Oh, Tom still didn't want to die by any means. The idea of it still frightened him, the unknown of what came next overwhelming and daunting. But...Potter still had a point. Once such a thing was voiced, it wasn't hard to imagine that, after he had achieved his goals, had become Minister or Dark Lord or whatever and directed Wizarding Britain into a place of glory, he would become bored. Not even just a little bored; he would be mind-achingly, body-numbingly bored.

Hell, he was frequently bored now, and he was still at the start of everything.

He didn't want to die now, feared it, because he was still so young and still had so much to do and the risk of that unknown dawn (as Potter had somewhat referred to it as, uselessly poetic as it was) was worse than anything he could imagine facing in this life, not to mention the lingering fear from his own less than stellar childhood. It wasn't hard to imagine that changing, however. Wasn't hard to imagine that one day he, too, would no longer fear that final sleep.

As long as he had done everything he wanted first.

And besides, Tom had looked into options for immortality. A week ago, the horcrux ritual would have been deemed worth it. Last night, looking over it with fresh eyes? Well, Tom realized how close a call that was and could only mentally thank Potter. In his eagerness the first time around, when he read the passages on horcruxes, he had just skimmed over the section warning about the guaranteed costs of performing such a thing, thinking no cost would be too high to live forever.

It would be the last time he skimmed anything. No ritual, no prize was worth losing his mind over. His intelligence was his strongest asset, and losing his sanity would get him nowhere fast. It was a harsh reminder that there were most certainly worse fates than death, even if dying had always been what he feared most in the past.

Now, he wasn't so sure about that. Visions of shattered, twisted versions of himself raining fire and blood upon the magical world he now called home left him shuddering. He wanted, deserved, to be great, to be held in awe, but no king had ever held his throne through fear and fear alone for long. Rule through fear only ever ended one of two ways: endless rebellions until one manages success, or an empty kingdom of corpses.

No, Tom was happy to look into charms and wards and runes that would avoid a premature death, but thanks to Potter he didn't think he feared dying so much he'd risk everything else to live forever.

“Tom?”

Lucius was hovering in the doorway to the compartment he was in. Apparently, his thoughts had distracted him so thoroughly he hadn't realized they had arrived in London. Tom nodded his head at his closest follower. “A moment to collect my trunk, and I will be right behind you.”

Lucius nodded back and walked towards the front of the train for the exit. Tom would be spending the summer at Malfoy Manor, which was always a pleasant experience (minus Draco, who was needed as a follower to stay in the good graces of the rest of the Malfoy family, and was unfortunately one of the most entitled, stuck up, arrogant prats he'd ever met). They, at least, had a most impressive library that he was still working his way through, and as far as he knew it was second only to the Black library (and, considering the current lord of the family was in prison for some reason and no one could seem to figure out who the legal heir was, that library was currently unavailable, more's the pity).

He could see Lucius and Draco waiting for him by the floo systems that magical families could use to return home, but before he himself could cross over to them, he spotted a hunched, resigned looking Potter heading for the barrier to the Muggle world. Tom flagged down Lucius while never taking his eyes off of the head of black hair he could barely see through the crowd.

“Yes?” The my lord was silent because at least Lucius had some fucking tact to realize when not to say that in public, a lesson his brother didn't always remember.

“Would you be so kind as to take my trunk with you ahead to the Manor? I have a bit of lead to follow regarding our latest mystery.”

Lucius nodded and swiftly grabbed Tom's trunk, leaving him free to weave through the crowds after Potter as elegantly as he could. Fortunately, his own height made it a little easier to keep an eye on the little Ravenclaw, and his long gait helped him to cross the barrier shortly behind the boy.

It helped that the further away from the barrier Potter got, the slower his walk became. He seemed to shrink into himself as well, his head bowed to the point that Tom wondered if he could even see where he was going. Once they had made their way to the street, Tom hung back, well within hearing distance but not so close as to be obvious he had followed Potter.

“Hurry up, boy! I haven't got all day!”

An absolute whale of a man was hovering threateningly over Potter, glaring and sneering at a now beyond nervous looking Potter. Tom narrowed his eyes as he noticed the car was a newer model, the man was dressed in a decent upper middle class suit, but Potter, now in muggle appropriate attire, was wearing clothes that were far too big for his small frame, faded, and marked with random holes from excessive wear.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

And, oh, that feeling was back just above Tom's stomach, a weight that just seemed to turn. Gone was the shy but quietly passionate boy he spoke to yesterday. In just those three words there was so much he could hear that he didn't like.

Fear. Resignation. Dread. A sense of hollowness that Tom was all too familiar with from his time in the orphanage that also somehow seemed so much worse.

While Potter climbed into the backseat after hoisting his trunk into the car's boot, Tom was spinning on his heel and making his way back to the floo. The sooner he and the Malfoy family got settled for the hols, the sooner he could have a private conversation with Lucius about what he had witnessed.

Tom tapped a finger on the spine of the book he held. The summer holidays had ended, and he, Lucius, and Draco were waiting in their favored train compartment for the time to leave. He and Lucius had several conversations over the summer holiday regarding Potter, both what he had observed (“Filthy Muggles,” Lucius had muttered) as well as what they had found regarding Potter's family. They had been shocked to discover that he was the Last Potter, and therefore future Lord of the family. It was clear, between his upbringing and his demeanor, he was unaware of this, and had not been prepared for his duties as a Lord. It made both of them wonder who his magical guardian was; whoever they were, they had failed miserably.

“It is possible, my Lord,” Lucius stated, “that failure was exactly the point.”

True enough. As heinously punishable the crime of line theft was, it only mattered if the thief was caught, and if the magical guardian stood to take over the family vaults and seats if young Potter passed before his coming-of-age and the creation of a will, the whole horror show made sense.

This also reminded Tom that, somewhere in the last couple of years, surrounding himself with the next generation of Lords from Slytherin house had cause something of an unintended negative consequence, though one that was hopefully not too late to be corrected. As much as he prided himself on his intelligence and control, it seemed his peers had influenced him after all. Before discovering his status as the Slytherin heir, his goals had been to overtake the ministry (at the time, completely legitimately through politics and power-plays) in order to pull the British Wixen world forward forcefully, for magic's sake. He had never carried the blood prejudice of his housemates (something that would be hypocritical, considering his own blood status) and had wanted to propose finding magical youth at a younger age and removing them from unacceptable Muggle arrangements (his own childhood an example to be used). After a mere two years of newfound respect, however, his housemates had pulled him into not only adopting blood prejudice, but their laziness and lack of acknowledging anything less than a pureblood as even human had pushed his own lack of patience (mostly set into a frenzy due to Dumbledore) towards considering considerably darker and more bloodthirsty means of accomplishing his goals.

Tom Marvolo Riddle would be pushed into nothing. Not by anyone.

Five minutes before the train was due to leave, Tom perked in his window seat as he noticed Potter approaching the train. He was alone, pushing a cart with his ratty (damaged?) trunk. While he knew Potter had an owl (which seemed odd, as he never sent or received mail during the school year), there was no cage perched on top of the trunk. And Potter?

Potter looked terrible.

Even from a distance, Tom could see his eyes were glassy and unfocused. His glasses were missing, and giant bruised bags under his eyes spoke of an extremely unhealthy lack of sleep. As thin as he was after OWLs, he was now emaciated, his cheeks clearly sunken in to his skull and his hands, the only things visible outside of his clothes (and Tom could imagine exactly why he was wearing long sleeves in summer) besides his neck and head, were skeletal looking. Those same hands, when moving from the cart handle to move his trunk, shook violently. His clothes were worse than usual, faded and bleach stained with what looked like various colors of thread stitching holes shut. Something clenched inside of Tom's stomach, and he found himself standing.

“My Lord? Where are you going?” Draco asked.

Tom shot him a scathing glare, both for using that title in public as well as for questioning him. Lucius scoffed at his brother. “Not your business, Draco, you know that,” he scolded his brother. Tom strode from the compartment before he was tempted to strangle the younger twin.

Tom approached the door he had seen Potter approach just in time to see two burly Gryffindor boys walk away laughing cruelly. Sure enough, when Tom looked out the door, Potter was sprawled on the ground, looking every bit like the boys had taken the trunk and shoved it into the boy. “Potter? Are you alright? Do you need a hand?”

Potter blinked up at him, blushing slightly. “Oh, Riddle! I'm fine, don't worry! Just dropped my trunk, is all!”

Gods above. Arrogant? This boy was so nice it was going to get him killed. And something inside of Tom found that completely Unacceptable.

“Here, Potter. Let me help you.”

Potter froze, and the embarrassed flush on his face deepened. “Oh, you- you don't have to do that, Riddle. I'm sure you're very busy...”

“Nonsense,” Tom replied, a charming smile spreading across his face, though this oddly made Potter flinch slightly. “I'd be happy to help.”

“R-right. Thank you.”

Tom helped Potter carry his trunk on board, same smile on his face, but internally he was frowning. Even if he had been lying to cover up his pain and the boys' actions, Potter had been perfectly happy to see him – until he had smiled at him. What was going on?

Tom sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for the welcoming feast, though he found his eyes straying frequently over to the Ravenclaw table. Potter was sat almost completely alone, with several empty seats between him and the rest of his house. The only exception was Lovegood, who sat next to him, further from the other Ravenclaws, happily chattering about something – more than likely some made-up animal or another. Potter was smiling at her, occasionally answering, though he noticed there was a gap between them and Potter flinched any time she shifted too close. He had also barely eaten anything, and only plain, bland foods at that; not that Tom was surprised. If he was being starved during the summer, and everything he had seen so far hinted that way, anything more would have very unpleasant consequences later on.

“Tom, you're staring.”

Tom looked over at Lucius, and they nodded at each other slightly, looking grim. Good, Lucius saw what he was seeing too. Rabastan, the one who had spoken, cocked a brow, but knew better than to say anything further here.

Draco, unfortunately, did not have the same sense of subtlety, or self preservation, it seemed. He followed Tom's view and scowled when he noticed what exactly, or in this case who, he had been looking at. “Potter?! I thought Lucius finished looking into him last year. What're we staring at a nobody like him for?!”

“Draco,” Tom ground out from between clenched teeth, and Draco very clearly could read that he was in for it later. “Not. Here.”

Draco gulped, and nodded.

Later, after a very pointed reminder to Draco to be more fucking discrete and to stop questioning him, especially in public, Tom would advise his followers that he was not done with Potter. Not by a long shot.

“He's very kind, but he's suspicious, you know.”

Tom paused momentarily in the middle of the corridor. Morning classes had just ended, and he was on his way to lunch, when he saw Lovegood match strides with him – impressive, when the only person in 6^th year close to her diminutive height was Potter. “Beg pardon?”

“Harry. You've got so many wrackspurts, and they're all talking about how they don't understand why Harry reacted so badly to you smiling at him. Professor Flitwick and I are the only ones who normally do that, and he's seen you smile just like that at people you want something in return from, so he's afraid that all you want is something from him and then you'll forget he exists again.”

Tom blinked, and stopped to stare at the fey-like girl, who also stopped with him. “That is...unusually direct for you, Miss Lovegood. And how did you know about all of that? Has he spoken about what happened at the train with you?”

She giggled. “No, silly! I swear, the wrackspurts told me. And normally, I'm not supposed to say anything about it, not like that, but I spoke with them when I could and they agreed somebody has to do something or else the Little Fawn will never get his antlers.”

Tom stared at her, then shook his head. “Right...” That was a bit more like what he expected. Little fawn? Antlers?

Lovegood sighed, and her eyes dimmed. “It was worth a try, anyway. Bye Tom!”

Tom could do nothing but stare after her as she skipped off to the Great Hall.

Weeks passed, and Tom felt he had made a fair amount of progress regarding Potter, who had now become Harry. It was child's play to place himself in the prime position to be his partner in this year's Ancient Runes project; all he had to do was time it so that Harry entered the classroom first, and then Tom simply sat next to him. At first he thought he would have to contend with Lovegood, but she simply sat at another table and gave him a vacant smile that seemed to border on encouraging. She obviously approved of his overtures to Harry, though he guessed it was just because she wanted Harry to have more friends, more support, in a school that seemed to hate him for no reason.

On that note, Tom had actually observed something...interesting.

While, yes, most of the school hated Harry, he had noticed a pattern of students that seemed to – well, not like him, but were utterly indifferent to him, even polite. It wasn't until later, when he was mentally compiling a list of the students he had noticed didn't share in the sheer negativity the rest of the school had towards Harry, that he noticed the common denominator. He needed to speak to Lucius immediately, considering he was both his closest confidant as well as one of the students he had noticed was unaffected.

He fortunately found Lucius alone in a quiet corner of the library, working on an essay. It had been an easy guess; Lucius was serious about his studies and was just a couple of placements below Tom himself. If only his twin had the same dedication. Draco seemed content to coast by with just enough effort to not embarrass the Malfoy name. As second born and heir only until his brother had children but still the son of a prominent family, Draco fully expected to live off his family's luxury and relied on the expected nepotism of the Ministry to get a high, well paying position easily after graduation.

Of course, he didn't know Tom was planning on ridding the Wixen world of such corruption once again now that he had realized how much of himself he had lost in the last couple of years. He fully intended to reward his loyal followers for their assistance, but Draco had honestly always been more of a hindrance than a help, and would be in for a rude awakening once Tom was in charge and would no longer have to worry about the Malfoy's opinions, especially since he had no doubt Draco would swiftly prove his own incompetency to his family at the rate he was going.

Tom slid gracefully into a seat across from Lucius, and hastily raised a wandless privacy spell. “Lucius. I need to speak to you.”

Lucius immediately raised his eyes from his essay, gently cleaning his quill nib and setting it aside. “What can I do for you, Tom?”

“Take a look at this,” Tom slid the list he had made forward. “I noticed something about the other student's behavior concerning Harry.” If Lucius noticed him using Harry's first name even without him present, he said nothing about it. “This is a list of students that I've observed that lack the same animosity towards him that the rest of the school has. They're not his friends, by any means, but they do not treat him with the same level of hatred that everyone else does. Do you notice a pattern?”

Lucius read down the list, and was about three-quarters through when he paled, obviously catching on quickly. “They're- they're all heirs!”

Tom nodded. “Down to the last. The only heir not on this list is your brother, and honestly, I don't think he counts. I have a feeling Draco would despise Harry no matter what.”

“I'm inclined to agree with you,” Lucius said, dropping his head to his free hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The little fool is arrogant, and spiteful. While I personally care little for blood supremacy – something, I must say, I am glad to see you speaking less in support of lately, if you'll forgive my impudence – Draco latches on to it like it is the one and only thing by which to measure the worth of others. That, and money, of course.”

Draco wasn't here, so Lucius felt perfectly justified to be honest in his opinion of the little shit. Honestly, Lucius had occasionally gotten the opportunity to chat with Harry a bit, and couldn't help but like him. Between his own opinion of their classmate and Tom's obvious interest (yes, he had noticed the unnecessary first name usage, thank-you-very-much, and secretly hoped that Tom was finally, finally experiencing a normal fucking crush for once, his lord needed it, really), Lucius was so utterly done with Draco being an entitled little asshole, going for the easy target and kicking him while he was already so far down it was leaving sad territory and fast coming up on enraging. Not to mention the fact that, even though Harry clearly did not realize it, he was a future lord of his house, one that still held quite a few seats in the Wizengamot. The House of Potter was powerful, even if the purebloods had been whispering about the scandal of Harry's mother being muggleborn for the last near two decades like that actually mattered.

Actually, no, it did matter, though not in the way the fools thought. Lucius had been trained to know how to care for the magical creatures the Malfoy's possessed on their extensive lands. He knew what happened if you bred animals too closely related together; how most of the other lords and ladies hadn't made the same observations and connected it to being a very not good idea for humans either baffled him. Considering how hard of a time James Potter's parents had conceiving him, marrying Lily Evans was about the smartest move he could have made. She was beautiful, intelligent, powerful, and not even remotely related to the Potters. Funny how everyone quickly forgot all of these positives when she actually married Potter.

Tom chuckled lowly, bringing Lucius' mind back into the conversation. “I'm not offended, Lucius, don't worry. In fact, I'd rather you speak your mind more often. Your advice is always sound, and I'm afraid even I'm not infallible, and it seems the last couple of years listening to those like your brother influenced me subconsciously more than I thought. Something I have been swift in correcting now that I've realized.”

Lucius cleared his throat, overwhelmed by Tom's trust him. “I...you honor me.”

Tom shook his head. “No more than you deserve. Speaking of advice, I have an idea on why the heirs in Hogwarts are unaffected, but I wanted your opinion as well.”

Lucius looked at him seriously. “Yes, this list paints a...disturbing picture. The main reason I can think of that none of the heirs are affected is because their rings protect them from many potions, minor curses and jinxes, and - “

Tom drew in a sharp breath. “Mind magic. You think the whole school is compulsed against him? How would anyone cast that many compulsions on that many people?! Unless-”

“- it's not a compulsion placed on the individual students, but Harry himself!” Lucius hissed in barely restrained fury. “Whoever his fucking magical guardian is must have placed a compulsion on him that affects those around him, driving everyone around him who isn't protected against the mind arts into uncontrollable hatred against him. Draco has an heir ring, even though I'm next in line, but we've already discussed that he doesn't count. Severus is an accomplished enough Occlumens that he should be unaffected, but I asked my father about him and his relation to the Potters in a recent letter trying to figure out why he hates Harry so much, and Father stated that Severus went to school with his parents and had a vicious rivalry with James Potter, particularly over the hand of Lily Evans, and has always been bitter over losing her to him, not to mention that they also bullied each other viciously. According to Father, to hear Severus tell it would make it sound like James was the bully and he nothing but the victim, but Father said that, as much as Severus is his friend, even he knows he gave as good as he got and then some, sometimes.”

Tom sneered. “As if a human being is some prize to be won? I'm sure that attitude, if nothing else, drove Evans from him far more than he realizes.”

Lucius spread his hands. “You aren't wrong. Hell, Narcissa Black and I have been betrothed since near birth, but I guarantee if I were to ever speak about her as if she were a possession or prize, I'd immediately lose the ability to carry on the Malfoy line, permanently.”

Tom couldn't help but snicker (a sight that Lucius was all too relieved to see, along with his comment about Evans; Tom had the makings to be a great lord, but sometimes Lucius feared he struggled to connect with his more human nature, something that could lead to very dark and dangerous roads if he wasn't careful). “Narcissa Black is a lovely woman. And I could see her doing just that, with a smile on her face all the while.”

Lucius gave a brief besotted sigh, then moved on. “Anyway, while most of the student population forgets it with the way they treat her, Miss Lovegood is also an heiress, and therefore also protected. And while Professor Flitwick has seemingly fallen under a more direct and powerful compulsion regarding Harry's files, I don't think the general one is strong enough to completely overcome his goblin heritage, though I find it suspicious that he doesn't do more to help one of his own students.” He tapped a finger on the table in thought. “Tom, I must admit that I'm...extremely concerned. Everything we've observed and discussed so far points in a very disturbing direction. I think that whoever Harry's magical guardian is is purposefully placing him in a position where, between his home life and his school life, he receives little to no reprieve from constant hatred and violence against him, likely in the hopes that either he'll kill himself, or someone else will do it for him. The fact that he hasn't committed suicide yet is, quite honestly, a massive testament to his strength of will and character.”

Tom felt ice flood his veins. “Lucius, I- I don't entirely understand why, but I just can't let that happen.”

Lucius sighed. “Earlier, you stated you wanted me to speak my mind more often. May I do so now? You may not entirely like what I have to say, but I think it's both true and important.”

Tom nodded. “Of course.”

Lucius hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on Tom's shoulder in a friendlier way than they were prone to do. “I think it's because you care about him, Tom. Whether it's just a desire to be his friend – not to make him your follower, or ally, but friend – or something more, I can not tell you. I will say, that whether it is his friendship you want, or something more intimate, I do not think you could do much better. Yes, he's a half blood. Yes, he's been raised by muggles, kept purposefully ignorant to Wixen culture. But, as we've said, blood really doesn't matter all that much, especially as you both are lords, or will be upon graduation, and ignorance can be corrected by education. What seldom can be corrected is who he is as a person. Harry is kind, compassionate, and intelligent. He is calm, patient, and obviously capable of weathering any storm that hits him. If you are the fire in the forge that will shape the Wixen World into greatness, I think he could be the oil that quenches and strengthens your work. I've watched the two of you long enough now that I think that, together, you could accomplish so much more than either of you could accomplish alone.”

Tom was frozen. Oh, a part of him wanted to deny that he felt anything so banal as non-transactional friendship or, gods forbid, affection for Harry, but...even as he thought it, he heard the lie for what it was. It was easier now for him to acknowledge it than it would have a few months ago. Once he realized how much he had been influenced by the pampered heirs around him (Lucius excluded, unfortunately, as he was realizing how much of a good influence his friend was day by day), he had started to internally inspect and debate many of his previously religiously held beliefs, including human nature and emotions. A year ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of love. Now, after giving such emotions more thought, especially in observing Lucius and Narcissa? Now he could see the appeal. It was obvious that Lucius loved Narcissa desperately, but that love did not weaken him; it strengthened him, hardening his will to be the best version of himself for her into steel and giving him a strong, capable companion permanently at his side.

And when Tom pictured Harry at his own side, no longer emaciated and beaten down, but with a straight spine and a determined glint in his eyes, a glint that occasionally came out to play when the two of them debated something he felt strongly about, he had to admit that the image held attractive promise. In more ways than one.

For once, Tom felt that he was obsessed, not for the purpose to gain a possession to be used and then discarded, but to gain a companion who would be his, just his, who would support him, who could and would keep up with him, in both intelligence and power.

Someone who, trapped as he was, needed his help.

“Lucius. My friend. I think you are right. And, if you will help me, I think we need to do something, soon!”

They spent the next several days splitting up their attention between their normal studies and ambitions and researching Harry's situation through Lucius' connections with the ministry. Whoever his magical guardian was very clearly intended fatal harm, and the information on just who it was was buried deep.

On a Saturday that Lucius had managed to slip away from the school to research some archives himself, Tom had managed to snag Harry and pull him into a secluded corner of the library so that they could work on their homework and Ancient Runes project together. The idea for the project had actually been Harry's, though Tom was both impressed and enthusiastic about it. Harry had proposed using a crystal array that, with the correct sequence of rune chains, would be used much like a science fiction holographic projector, that would allow for easier and less painful distance communication than floo, and erase the need to have to buy powder continuously just to communicate with others from a distance. Not only that, but it would be invaluable for the ministry, allowing for instant communication between departments with no more owls or paper airplanes everywhere, and even allow for meetings to be conducted in group calls without having to pull everyone into one space. Even better, Harry was fairly certain that common quartz would handle the runic carvings and magical conduction just fine, making the resulting project cheap to produce. While that would mean less money per sale, it would also mean that everyone and their crup could afford it, pulling in a potential fortune not through exclusivity but mass availability.

“Engorgio,” Harry whispered, expanding the quartz he had brought to experiment with until it just barely fit into his palm. “Have you any opinions on shape, Tom? While I know we could just leave them as they are naturally and make each unique, it might help recognition if we make them uniform in shape. What do you think?”

Tom picked up his own enlarged piece of quartz and examined it. “I am leaning towards modifying the shape, I believe. Not only is it product recognition, it will also help prevent any future arrays from being mistaken for just regular pieces of quartz, and I can already see some simpleton carving into it, not realizing what it is, and blowing themselves up when the runes are disturbed.”

Harry snickered, a cute little one he had gained with the confidence that had slowly been grown and nurtured by his friendship with Tom. “Too right. Yeah, definitely needs to be instantly recognizable then. Let's see...” Harry muttered under his breath, eyes closed, while he swirled his wand in slow, methodical circles over the piece of quartz, transfiguring the shape. Tom watched with glee as the jagged crystal took on a smooth, swirly shape, like a more elegant swirl of soft serve ice cream with uniform grooves running with the swirls. “There. How about this? We can carve the runes along the grooves, encouraging a natural flow in the runic chains and making it aesthetically pleasing.”

Tom ran a hand along the design, delighting in the cold, smooth texture. “I think it's perfect, Harry. Now that we've got a tentative design, let's take a closer look at those chains and plan arrangement, then. Fortunately it's only setting up the initial chain that's complicated; once that's set in stone, or quartz, as it was, reproduction should be ridiculously simple.”

Harry giggled a bit at his pun, which was both exactly his reason for doing so and sickeningly endearing. Now that Lucius had put the thought in his head (or, at least, uncovered the thought that was already there but buried deep under miles of denial), he found Harry incredibly attractive and a wonderful person to spend time with. Sure, he was still terrifyingly small and skinny, but Tom had slowly been working on that by sneaking nutrition potions that he brewed in his down time into snacks that he brought for Harry as they worked together. He had gathered the house elves of the kitchens to his cause in making sure there was a ready supply of nutrition potion-drugged food for Harry, especially foods that would not be too hard on his stomach. The elves had eagerly agreed, grateful for the ability to help their Master Harry Potter sir more easily (he had, as Tom had suspected, been eating most of his meals in the kitchens since first year in order to avoid trouble in the Great Hall from other students, and the elves had been doing all they could to help the too-small Ravenclaw, but had lacked the knowledge to help him in any other way than trying to stuff him full of food).

True to Lovegood's words, Harry had been hesitant around him at first, and now that it had been pointed out to him, it was obvious that his lifetime of abuse had made made him both suspicious and observant. Tom really wasn't surprised that Harry had noticed that he, for the most part, was nice to others for the sake of gaining something, be it something temporary like a book or favor or longer lasting like an alliance. It didn't even annoy him that Harry saw through his act with other people; on the contrary, Tom was thrilled that the object of his interest was sharp enough to not be fooled by what people project on the surface, even if the source of that suspicion and wariness was infuriating to him. Fortunately, however, it was also true that under that suspicion was indeed a kind and caring soul, and Tom worked hard to prove to the young Claw that he wanted nothing more from him (for now) than companionship and friendship. It took a few days of suspicious glances and wary, furtive movements, but eventually Harry relaxed around him and Tom enjoyed the same subdued affection that Lovegood received, if not a little more.

The first time Tom placed a, slowly telegraphed, hand on Harry's arm and received no flinch in return felt like one of his greatest victories he had achieved thus far.

“Hmmmm...” Harry hummed, looking over the rolls of parchment they had worked on together for appropriate arrays. A flick of Tom's wand had them rearranging to represent an accurate portrayal of their final layout two-dimensionally. “I'm thinking array three or five, to be honest. One was a decent first attempt, but the third section is unstable at best. My attempts with two and four were steps in the right direction, but in all honesty it feels like pieces are missing. Your three feels stable, though I worry about length of broadcast, and our five is a little bit more of a question of stability than three but should not have a time limit on broadcasts. What do you think?”

Tom's eyes raked over the proposed arrays. “I think if we move this chain forward, to resemble three but keep the rest of five the same, it will improve the stability but keep the continuous power supply going so that broadcasts are not cut short.”

Harry swiftly wrote out the chain, then flourished his own wand to copy Tom's technique of arranging the chain as it would look on the final project. “That does look much better. Though, are we sure that the first instance of ansuz isn't too close to the primary uruz? I'm worried that if they tangle too much the projected sound will come in at ear-shattering levels.”

Tom couldn't help but laugh. “A permanent crystal Howler, then?”

“Ha! You're not wrong, and I can see that being a selling point, but a waste of resources for something petty, I think.”

Tom chuckled, then examined the new array. “Let's try this then. One of us should carve the original five, the other six, then we take them to the Room of Requirement, ask for a multi-room suite with protection, then activate them and test their power and for length of use and any mistakes?”

Harry grinned, excited that they were already at the testing stage when it wasn't even Samhain yet. “Yes! Let's go ahead and head up there and carve in the Room, I don't fancy making a mistake and blowing up a section of Madame Pince's library.” He shuddered, and Tom frowned. Apparently the compulsion was strong enough to even effect Pince, despite the fact that normally Harry would have been her ideal student. He could only hope Lucius found something during his research today. Something in his magic was telling him they were running out of time.

Upon leaving the library, neither noticed the pair of narrowed eyes watching them, too excited about their project to be as vigilant as normal.

Harry waived a cheerful goodbye at the retreating form of his new friend. After five years of being alone other than Luna, Harry didn't think he'd ever have anyone else in his life, much less the popular and beloved Tom Riddle. Sure, for the first couple of years Tom wasn't much liked by the some of the other Slytherins either (and he is pretty sure Tom doesn't remember him trying to defend him against his bullies a few times through first and second year either, as Tom seemed to dislike him just as much as everyone else at the time and would sneer at him and swiftly move on), but once he had found his stride and place in the school Harry was certain he'd never look at him twice, especially since most of the rest of the school liked Tom just fine. When he first started talking to him, Harry was sure that Tom was just after something (though what, he wasn't sure, as Harry didn't have anything to give, no money, no power, no allies, nothing).

That changed as Tom stood by his side every day, treating him like a normal person, even defending him when the other students got brave enough to still try to bully him in front of Tom. Nobody had ever really defended him before, except for maybe Luna (who had her own bullying problem and couldn't do much), and it didn't take long for Harry to realize that such actions not only would gain Tom nothing, but stood to lose him his standing amongst his peers, finally convincing him that Tom's intentions where genuine. If Harry were honest with himself, he'd admit that he had developed more than a bit of a crush on the handsome Slytherin, though he viciously kept those feelings under wraps. Not only would it not be fair to Tom, who surely wasn't interested in that way and was likely destined to wed a pureblood witch from some high-standing family, but he would not do anything that could dissolve one of the few friendships he had.

They had just finished testing their Ancient Runes project in the Room of Requirement, and curfew was fast approaching. It had been highly worth the hours spent, however: both models had been a resounding success, though their earlier hypothesis was correct. One model seemed to last an hour or so longer before needing to rest and recharge, but the volume projected was on the border of uncomfortably loud. The other model, of course, didn't last quite as long as the former, but the volume and visual projection was much more stable and consistent. They had tested everything they could think of, from angle and position around the crystal (impressively, it only picked up living forms with the exception of anything they were physically touching, so there was no dizzying projection of another room on top of the present one), the manual raising and lowering of voices (it picked up whispers quite well, but didn't over-project yelling), and bumping and jostling the crystal (as long as nothing actually damaged the crystal where runes were carved, there was no effect). The projection was crystal clear (another pun that had Harry snickering; who knew Tom was such a dork under that serious exterior?), and actually made it look like the other person was in the room with them. Harry frequently had to remind himself that this Tom wasn't a solid form.

Harry's trip back to his dorm room should have been safe, as he was already on the seventh floor and close to the tower entrance. He should have been safe to return to his room (he would never tell Tom that his “room” was a forgotten closet in Ravenclaw Tower that just barely fit a small mattress and his trunk, as his year mates had immediately ejected him from the dorm room when he tried to enter on his first night at Hogwarts). He should have been safe to lay daydreaming of his successful project with Tom, of his budding affection for his friend, of proposing a second project since their first was already pretty much finished to earn bonus points with the professor (as well as an excuse to spend more time together).

Unfortunately, one of his worst tormentors with his little sidekicks had been waiting for him to turn the corner near the tower entrance.

“So, Potter,” Draco Malfoy drawled, his lips pulled up into a cruel smirk. “You think you're actually good enough to be anywhere near Tom Riddle? The best student Hogwarts has ever seen?”

Parkinson and Zabini snickered behind him.

“I think it's clear that somehow you are so incredibly stupid that you still haven't learned the lesson we've been trying to teach you since first year,” Draco continued, pulling his wand from his holster. “And I think it's about time the lesson sunk in, don't you?”

Harry gulped, and backed away, panicking internally. As he was used to abuse, both at home and at school, he knew there was no point in fighting back, in defending himself. He had tried once, against Draco himself actually, and while he was strong enough to wipe the floor with him, Snape had made sure to punish him viciously for daring to raise his wand against his godson, and none of the other teachers even remotely cared enough to step in. No, Harry was well aware that if he did anything to defend himself other than run, it would only make things far, far worse.

And so, he ran.

Unfortunately, he did not get far. The hallway he was in was too straight and long with too few rooms, resulting in a petrificus totalus jinx striking him before he could dodge. He was violently flipped over so that he was facing the ceiling, and gray eyes sparkling with malice were looking down at him.

“You know, a couple of your housemates let me know you're living in a closet in their tower, Potter. A fucking closet! It gives me an idea, though. How about we find you a nice, little closet somewhere in the dungeons, hm? Somewhere nice and abandoned. And then? We'll promptly forget where we put you. And if you think Lovegood and Tom actually care enough to go looking for you? Well, Lovegood is useless and will never find you, and I'm one of Tom's best friends, so I can tell you he doesn't. And even if he did try, he'll never find you, either. It'll be interesting to see how many days it takes for you to realize you're a useless, unwanted waste of space, yeah?”

Harry shivered. While he had finally broken out of the jinx sometime after Malfoy had slammed and locked the door of the smallest, most out-of-the-way closet in the deepest, most abandoned part of the dungeons, his wand had been taken and he was panicking too much to focus enough for wandless magic. His thoughts were swirling around Malfoy's proclamations, of how unwanted and hated he was.

How Tom didn't want him, either.

Oh, somewhere, deep in Harry, in that little place he pulled the will to keep going day to day from, he knew that there was no reason at all to believe what Malfoy said. But, after years of being told over and over again that he was a freak, that he was unwanted, unloved, good-for-nothing just like his parents, well...

It was hard to believe that little voice that told him they were wrong.

As time slowly ticked by, it was harder and harder for him to control his panic. He became more convinced that at least in one thing Malfoy was right: no one was going to find him. Even if Luna and Tom cared enough to look for him, they wouldn't find him and the teachers didn't care enough to look for him and Malfoy hated him enough to happily leave him here to die of thirst which he had come close enough to experience in the cupboard under the stairs with his relatives that he knew how incredibly painful it was and- and-

And between the panic and the years of malnutrition, neglect, and abuse that had damaged Harry's body and organs to dangerous levels, Harry began to feel a pain creeping down his arm and across his chest.

Tom yawned as he walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. He had meant to stay up and wait for Lucius last night, but his friend must have returned long after curfew because his bed was empty when Tom finally fell asleep, though the curtains were pulled shut this morning (something unusual for him, actually, as Lucius preferred to sleep with them open).

As he approached the doors to the hall, a voice caused him to pause.

“TOM! WAIT!”

He looked back, alarmed. Lucius Malfoy was running towards him in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

“Tom!” Lucius gasped, grasping his arm desperately with a wild look in his eyes. “I'm sorry, I meant to catch you before you left the dorm room this morning! I found- so much last night and I know what's happening and gods it's so much worse than we thought and-”

Tom gripped his friend around the shoulders, both to calm him and to guide him into a nearby empty room. “Not here! Come!”

They both slipped into the room, and Lucius immediately began pacing like a caged animal while Tom hurriedly raised as many privacy and silencing wards as he could. The second he began to lower his wand, turning to address what was going on with his friend, Lucius gave an unholy scream and through several nasty hexes at the wall.

“FUCKING DUMBLEDORE!”

Tom froze. “What?!” He hissed.

Lucius spun around, his eyes blazing and hair in disarray, such the polar opposite of his normal appearance and behavior that a lesser person than Tom would be terrified. “It's him! It's fucking him! This whole time he's been doing everything he can to paint you as some- some monster and this whole time the real monster was that twinkly-eyed bastard son of a nundu!”

Tom huffed. “We knew this already, Lucius.”

“No! You don't understand!” It was really a very good thing Harry had been influencing Tom so much recently, because a few months ago those words and that tone would have resulted in punishment. “That monster is Harry's magical guardian!”

“What?!” Tom growled out again.

“Oh! And it gets so much worse! It turns out that Sirius Black, who is supposed to be the current Lord Black, was the one who stopped Bellatrix Black from killing Harry all of those years ago, and was also his godfather, and also the next person set up to take care of Harry if something happened to the Potters. But I found records from a closed Wizengamot meeting where not only did Dumbledore claim that Sirius Black actually assisted Bellatrix in her attack, but he also used his power as Chief Warlock to deny Black a proper trial and had him promptly thrown in Azkaban without due process! The paperwork in the Ministry is so cleaned up and censored that the only reason I know the truth is because Narcissa herself knew her sister attacked the Potter's alone, but she didn't know anything about Sirius- no, not just anything, she didn't realize he fucking existed! We found out she and pretty much every other Black had been obliviated of their memories, either of Sirius being the current Lord Black or, if they were too close to him, of memories of him at all!”

Tom raised a shaking hand to his mouth. This...this was so much worse than he had imagined when they started looking into little Harry Potter.

“It doesn't end there, Tom! In the same session, Dumbledore named himself Harry's magical guardian, having sealed the will from the view of anyone else but citing his “close friendship” with the Potters as evidence of his claim. He then abandoned Harry with Lily Potter's muggle sister, and then, as far as I can tell, promptly pretended he didn't exist ever again. Except for the fact that Harry is the blood adopted heir of Sirius Black and Dumbledore has proclaimed himself proxy to both House's seats!”

“Fuck!” Tom swore. “ This is...let me guess, if Harry dies, that psychopath is set up to receive at least the Potter Vaults, as Harry is the last scion, and probably the Black seats until a Black Lord comes forward?”

Lucius snarled. “Got it in one. That...that...asshole is destroying Harry, a child, in the name of money and power!”

Tom stood tall, his hands clenched. “Well, it ends now. Do you have all of the evidence you've gathered so far?”

“Of course. I've got the folder shrunk in my pocket. Who should we go to first? Heirs or not, we're still minors, it'll be hard getting anyone to believe us.”

Tom's face twisted into a vicious sneer. “As much as I want to obliterate him, I think Snape is our best bet. He's the only Professor we know for a fact isn't affected by any compulsions, and as long as we can get him to see past his childish fucking temper tantrum, he could most certainly help.”

Lucius sighed, but nodded. It was the best plan they had.

They both rushed out of the room, heading for the Great Hall to find Snape, but were nearly bowled over by a sobbing blur that rushed out of the door and past them. Professor Flitwick stood in the now open doorway, frowning in sympathy.

“Ah, boys! My apologies, Miss Lovegood just received some most upsetting news, I'm afraid.”

“Of course, sir,” Lucius smiled at the little professor. “Is it her father? I do hope he'll be alright.”

“Ah, not her father, thank goodness,” Flitwick stated, shaking his head. “No, one of her friends is in the hospital wing, I've tried to assure her Poppy said it was nothing serious, but I'm afraid Miss Lovegood didn't take much comfort in that.”

Tom and Lucius shared a look, and made a mad dash for the hospital wing, ignoring Flitwick's surprised calls for them.

Severus Snape was just starting his first class of the day when he sensed a heavy magical aura approaching his classroom. Just as he turned to the door to see what could possibly dare to interrupt his lesson, the door slammed open and admitted, of all people, Tom Riddle, his best Slytherin. “Mr. Riddle,” Severus spoke quietly, at the level all students knew meant he was furious, “you will cease slamming about like a child at once.”

Riddle, however, snarled at him, which was entirely out of character for the respectable heir. “I don't have time for this, Professor.” Severus rose a brow at that; Riddle had never said his name in such a disrespectful tone. “There is an emergency in the hospital wing, and I need you there, now.”

Severus hissed. “Ten points from Slytherin! You will treat me with respect, Riddle!” Severus sneered at the students in his classroom, all of them shocked silent. “Class dismissed. Get out.”

The brats didn't waste a moment, making a mad rush for the door.

“Now, you will tell me, calmly, why you felt the need to slam into my classroom like a barbarian snarling at me like an untrained crup!”

Riddle's fists clenched, and Severus was alarmed to notice they were shaking violently. Something was definitely wrong, if Riddle was this out of control. “There's no time, there's no time!” He heard the boy mutter under his breath.

Severus huffed. “Fine. Hospital wing, you said? Let's go, but we will talk about your deplorable behavior later, make no mistake.”

Once they had reached Poppy's domain, Severus was shocked to see Lucius Malfoy hovering over a bed in near panic, with no sight of Poppy herself. He approached the bed, and when he saw who occupied it, he threw his nastiest sneer at Riddle. “You dragged me out of my class for the likes of Potter?!”

“Uncle Severus,” Lucius whispered, and he was shocked to hear how shattered the boy sounded, “if you have any respect for me, for my family, for your Slytherins, please, call for Madame Pomfrey and ask her to explain what's going on. You'll realize exactly why Tom and I are so out of sorts, I promise, just please ask her!”

Severus glowered at the boy, but strode to Poppy's office and knocked on the closed door. Poppy opened the door, and looked at him in shock. “Severus! Whatever brings you here?”

“Two of my students,” he tossed them a glare, “insisted I speak to you regarding the Potter brat's condition, and their panic suggests that something is terribly wrong, though I doubt it.”

Poppy harrumphed and glared at the Slytherins herself. “They did, did they? Of course they wouldn't take my word that the boy is fine.”

“For the sake of the argument, Madam Pomfrey, could you please tell the Professor what is wrong and how you are treating it?” Lucius murmured, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Really! You boys are worrying over nothing!” She exclaimed. “But if it will get you to stop hovering and out of my ward, fine! The Hogwarts wards that alert the mediwixen on staff that a student is in poor health went off, and led me to some closet in your dungeons, where I found Potter locked inside in the midst of a heart attack. I brought him here, gave him a dose of Coeur Calme, and he'll be fine after some sleep, I'm sure.”

Severus stood frozen, staring at the matron in horror. He may hate Potter, but...”Coeur Calme?! For a heart attack?! Poppy, I know you know better!”

“Severus, there's no need to shout!” She huffed. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean!”

“That potion does nothing for a heart attack except delay it for a couple of hours! It's not even a good temporary measure to buy time because once the potion has run its course it can irreparably damage the heart and kill the patient!”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “Come now, Severus. I know how you feel about the brat, so is that really such a bad thing?”

Severus stumbled backwards, his heart pounding. “What the bloody hell is going on?!”

Lucius stumbled over to the professor, grabbing one of his hands. “Please, we need- we need to get him to St. Mungo's, but first I have to ask: Severus, is it possible for an area-of-effect compulsion charm to effect the healers there?”

Severus shook his head. “No, all healers are given badges when hired to protect against such spells, I-” He cut off and stared at Lucius in shock, understanding dawning on why he had asked.

“I suspected, but wanted to be sure. I didn't want to have to remove it before he was examined by a thorough diagnostic charm, it's needed as evidence. To go with all of the rest Tom and I have gathered. I'm going to use Poppy's floo to call Mungo's, please make sure she doesn't stop me?” With that, he hurried into the office, ignoring the matron's spluttering.

“Professor.” Severus turned to look at Tom, who had calmed and stood straight and proud, but had a look of burning rage in his eyes. “Lucius and I would be happy to show you what we've found out, and I'm sure Harry's diagnostics will complete the picture. However,” and he turned to stare into Severus' eyes, with a cold rage glowing at him, “you want to know why I was so disrespectful? You were the only adult here who could have noticed what was going on, as you were the only one protected against compulsions, which is a terrifying thought that our teachers are so susceptible to mind magics. You were the one who knew how to spot cases like Harry's, because as you'll shortly learn, his childhood, both at home and here, has been far, far worse than what the Malfoy's told me yours was. You could have helped him! And now, because a grown man thought it was perfectly acceptable to hate a child for no other reason than you hated his father, now he might...” Tom turned away, but not before Severus saw tears gather in the corner of the boy's eyes, the first tears he had ever seen from him.

“...he might die.”

Tom sat beside the hospital bed, his head grasped in between his hands. He had insisted on accompanying Harry to Mungo's, pleading with the healers, telling them that Harry had pretty much no one else. To his relief, they gave in, though he had had to wait in a attached waiting room while they worked to the best of their abilities to keep Harry alive. He had been invited into the room a few hours later, and while they couldn't tell him any specifics, they did reassure him that, while Harry had a long, long road ahead of him for recovery, and a lot hinged on him being removed from abusive environments and eating well from now on, he would survive this ordeal.

Lucius had just left; while he was also beyond worried for the little Claw, he had volunteered to share everything they had found with Severus. The man had turned paler than Lucius had ever seen him once he realized the depth of what all was happening, and then looked sick as he realized that he had been just one more monster in a long string of them in Harry's life. Tom could not, would not find it in himself to feel sorry for the Potions Master. He had brought this guilt and shame on himself. Everyone else at least had the excuse of the compulsion charm (which had, as predicted, been placed by Dumbledore, though not until Harry had started Hogwarts, proving the Dursley's didn't need controlling magic to be monsters, they just were). Snape had no such excuse.

Tom wished he could be there to watch the aurors drag that sanctimonious prick Dumbledore out in chains. In another life, nothing would have given him more pleasure to forsake everything in the name of basking in the glory of Dumbledore's downfall, even making sure he was front and center of the crowd so he could give the bastard a victorious smirk, and kick him while he's down. But no, nothing was worth leaving Harry's side, not even joining Lucius in dragging Draco home to receive judgment from his parents, as the stupid little shit had been boasting, loudly, in the Slytherin common room when Lucius and Snape entered. Of course the arrogant, spoiled brat was incapable of concealing his involvement. He'd be beyond lucky if he wasn't brought up on charges for attempting to murder a future lord; even if Harry hadn't suffered a heart attack, Draco had fully planned to leave him there with no intentions of going back or telling anyone who would help, and if it weren't for the health status wards (that Draco didn't know about), Harry would have possibly died of thirst before anyone found him.

Still, even if he wasn't brought up on charges, Lucius was infuriated enough to insist on disownment, and the excuse he'd give their parents was that Draco had not only attacked a future lord, for years, ending in a murder attempt, but had also brought shame to the Malfoy name in doing so. While these were certainly true reasons, Lucius' real reasons had more to do with the fact that he had almost lost someone very dear to him and Tom both because Draco was a petty little bully who utterly lacked compassion. Any charges were likely to be dependent on Harry, which Tom found ridiculous as this was truly attempted murder, and while Harry was likely (at this point) far too shy and wary to actually do so, Lucius was confident that Draco would be removed from the Malfoy family immediately.

At least this meant he didn't have to be even remotely nice to the brat anymore.

Now, the only thing left was for Harry to wake up.

Harry groaned softly as he floated back to consciousness. He was in an unfamiliar bed, with odd sounds floating into the room. His eyes opened slowly, and while he couldn't make out specifics without his glasses, someone with a dark head of hair was sitting by his bedside. His heart started to quicken in panic, before-

“Shhh, shh, Harry. You must calm down. Your heart is still too fragile, please be calm.”

Harry sighed softly, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Tom?”

“Yes, Harry. I'm here.” He heard a shuffling. “May I...may I join you? On the bed?”

Harry hoped the furious blush on his face wasn't too obvious. “YE- er, yes! Of course!” Something warm settled in his chest as his bed dipped, and before he knew it arms slowly wrapped around him in an embrace. Harry was sure his face was completely red by now, and all he could do was hope he wouldn't chase his dear friend from the bed. He'd never been held like this before, and he never wanted it to end.

Tom ran a hand down his back. “I'm so sorry, Harry. If I had known what that little prick was planning, I'd have walked you back to your dorm.”

Harry shook his head, gripping tighter to the arms around him. “You couldn't have known Tom. And I'm fine now, right?”

He heard a sigh. “To a certain extent.” Harry looked up, and though it was blurry, he could see the look of concern on his friend's face. “Harry, we're not in the hospital wing at Hogwarts; we're at St. Mungo's. You had a heart attack, and you needed more help than you were getting from Pomfrey.” Harry could hear anger in his voice, and wondered if Tom figured out why he never went to the hospital wing for anything. “But, here...Harry, it's normal for them to do a full, in depth diagnostic test when you're admitted.”

Harry started to pull away. “So...so you know. Everyone knows-”

Tom shushed him, and pulled him back into his chest. “I had suspected already, Harry. It's...it's hard not to, you know? The signs are all there, but no one else was seeing them...” Tom huffed. “Well, a lot of them couldn't help it, as much as I hate to say it, and I promise I'll explain what I mean later, but...fuck, Harry, I almost lost you!” Tom had pushed his head into the pillow next to him, hugging him tight, and Harry startled to realize the growing dampness he was feeling meant Tom was crying.

“Tom?”

Tom pulled back so that they were face to face, and Harry's heart broke to see the tear tracks on Tom's face. “Harry, I-” he huffed. “I'm sorry if this is unwelcome, or out of nowhere but...” One of his hands came up to cup the side of Harry's face. “I love you. My entire life, I thought I would never love anyone, thought I preferred it that way, but now...now I can't imagine a single day without you by my side.”

Tears swam in Harry's eyes. Was he dreaming? “Tom, I...I've been alone so long that I don't always know my own feelings, but...I think I love you, too.”

Tom leaned down, and-

Harry had dreamed of being kissed for a very long time. As a child, he longed for the sweet little forehead and cheek kisses parents gave their children. When Harry became a teenager, and had by then known for a long time he'd never have parents, or even an actual family, he started to dream of kisses shared with someone who'd love him, who could see past Harry Potter the Freak and see Harry, despite knowing that anyone ever loving him was a slim to none chance.

Nothing prepared him for the blissful perfection of kissing Tom, of the scent of soft incense and something else that was just him, of soft lips caressing his gently, of the feeling of peace and joy and home it brought him. Nothing prepared him for the gentle hand that carded fingers through his hair, a soothing sensation that he never wanted to end ever, for the feeling of a warm body next to his that comforted him with sensations of never-be-alone-again.

It was over far sooner than either of them wanted, but Tom murmured that Harry was still recovering and shifted them so that Harry was nestled in Tom's arms with his head pillowed on his chest. They lay in contented silence for a bit, until Harry peeked up at the smooth face of his now more-than-friend.

“What happens now?”

“Now?” Tom grinned at Harry. “Now I explain to you – carefully, calmly – about everything that's happened so that you're not in the dark anymore. I explain to you about a thief, and lordships, and compulsions. I explain to you about your godfather, and why it's felt like you against the world for so long. I explain why it's not true, not anymore, and I reassure you that yes, I truly love you, that while Lucius has faith that we can do many great things together, that at the end of the day, all of my ambitions pale in comparison to my greatest goal: to always have you at my side, showing you every day how much I love you, and bringing you joy like you've never known.”

Harry smiled, one of the largest, softest smiles he may have ever had. “There's nowhere I'd rather be.”