1937 [A Devil's Got to Do What A Devil's Got to Do]
“I feel like I could eat the world raw.”
-Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
July 24, 1937
Wool’s Orphanage, London, England
[A Devil’s Got to Do What A Devil’s Got to Do]
The Sunday following the seaside trip was a collection of memories Harry wanted to forget.
In the wake of what happened to Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, both Tom and Harry were closely monitored by Mrs. Cole and the assistant matron, Martha Charles (albeit a bit more sympathetic since Mrs. Cole told Martha it was for their wellbeing), every single afternoon after they arrived back from St. John’s.
It was subtle enough.
The long stares, the inspections that took way longer than anyone else’s, and the watchful eyes that kept looking in their direction were annoying. Fortunately, they didn’t mind the actions and the utter breach of privacy the matrons committed despite it. After all, they weren’t stupid enough to do magic out in the open where anyone could see them. Doing magic or anything unusual in the eyes of the matrons was peak idiocy and they weren’t idiots.
Oh how stupid that sounded now.
Amy and Dennis were alright in the end unfortunately, but they ignored and avoided Harry and Tom in any and every way possible. If they passed them during school, they’d quickly avert their eyes and practically run from their presence as if they saw a ghost. It hadn’t been their first taste of fear from others but it was still both enticing and intoxicating for both of them.
Fortunately, or unfortunately for Amy and Dennis, they knew they had to talk to both Harry and Tom in front of the nuns and Mrs. Cole. If they didn’t, Tom warned them of something happening to them. They weren’t keen on finding out what it was.
When the matron’s asked what happened during the trip, Amy shook her head and shut her mouth while Dennis’s once outspoken attitude quickly dimmed down to one of paranoia and fright. Their silence benefited both boys so they didn’t really care about the pair anymore; they got their revenge on both of them.
They knew they should’ve made sure the coast was clear. They were so stupid for thinking that the matron already let them go.
As Harry sat with Loki and the other snakes, he felt as though an enormous chunk of him was ripped apart from him as he worried about Tom. The tear tracks were still fresh from when he was near sobbing earlier.
“Do not worry, master, ” hissed Loki, rubbing his tail on Harry’s cheek. It was a futile attempt to dry his cheeks but Harry appreciated it nonetheless. “I am sure the other master will be alright.”
When Tom was called to the matron’s office after dinner, Harry didn’t like the implications of it. Every time they were called to Mrs. Cole’s office, it didn’t result in anything good and after what happened after the trip, Harry knew something worse was happening to Tom.
Harry also knew that he’d be next. One foot out of line and he’ll be given the same punishment that Tom’s getting now.
“Iknow he will, ” Harry admitted, “I’m more scared of what they’re doing to him.” Harry rubbed the underside of Loki’s face and busied himself with thinking about his snake more than his counterpart.
In the past few years of spending time with Loki (and with Tom), the snake grew longer than when Harry first met him. He doubled in length and was now roughly around 3 feet long. His scales were now a much more vibrant gray with flecks of green sprinkled in.
It always confused both Harry and Tom how a snake like Loki managed to be living in England of all places but Harry was too grateful for Loki to fully question it.
Harry was also embarrassed that he named a snake from South America a name from Norse Mythology. But hey, he was six and quite stupid back then.
“Think of something else then.”
Harry sighed and leaned back against the wall of the alley. It was almost curfew meaning Mrs. Cole was almost done with whatever she planned on doing to Tom (meaning Harry had to get up in a few minutes to further delay the punishments he knew that’ll happen). He didn’t know what was going on with Tom or the matron, so he quickly escaped to the alley to see Loki when Tom was called.
Why was Harry so stupid?
Harry couldn’t think about anything else lest he would think about Tom again. He still feels constantly complete and happy with Tom but he hates how the other boy is so intertwined with his life; it made him hurt all over when Tom’s not with him because of a cause that Harry couldn’t prevent.
He decided to think about Loki again.
“How did you end up here? ” Harry asked and continued stroking Loki’s scales. “You’re not native to England.” The snake hissed in contentment and burrowed his head on Harry’s arm before answering. It made him smile despite his gloomy mood.
“I do not know, ” The snake admitted, “But I knew that I needed to find you and your human. I feel like I have memories I do not remember anymore.”
Harry could relate to that. He felt as though there’s a locked-up part of his brain that he had the key to but couldn’t open under any circumstances. He felt like he was diving into the Mariana Trench when the visions happened, coughing and heaving as he kept realizing over and over when he resurfaced that it was a useless endeavor to keep trying to do.
The visions were worse.
They were like the fruits of knowledge, a forbidden temptation that Harry fantasizing about, desperate to know the secrets it kept from him.
If Harry’s thoughts were correct, Loki couldn’t just be a coincidence they found when they were younger.
Loki’s tail bumped his nose as Harry shook out of his stupor. “Come now little master, the other master will be back any minute now,” Loki hissed, already untangled from Harry’s lap and arm.
“ am not little!” Harry denied but he listened to Loki’s advice and dusted his clothes.
“You are little, and you are my master, now hush. The other master will be waiting now.”
Earlier
Wool’s Orphanage, London, England
Tom stood up from the dinner table when the matron motioned him over. “Tom,” she called, the ever-familiar beckoning hands he remembered calling him from the other side of the room.
A hand flew to latch on Tom’s own and he knew immediately who it was. After all, who else would it be?
Harry’s hand squeezed Tom’s own in worry for him. “Are you going to be alright?” His counterpart whispered over the noisy chatter of the dining room, brows creased in worry and confusion.
Tom squeezed right back in reassurance before he told Harry, “I’ll be fine. If this lasts the night then just wait for me. I’m sure Loki won’t mind waiting with you.”
It was an unspoken truth that Tom was Harry’s and Harry was Tom’s on account of the fact that they were each other’s only friend and they didn’t share with other people at all. And while Harry was okay with being separated from Tom, he didn’t like the fact that he was being separated from Tom because of Mrs. Cole. He didn’t like letting go of something, or in this case someone , to the hands of the enemy. It didn’t sit well with Harry.
Harry chewed on his lip before he let go of Tom’s hand.
“Are you sure?” Harry still asked, his face riddled with a flurry of emotions that were too fast for Tom to identify one by one.
It made Tom’s heart melt by how Harry cared for him.
“Positively sure.” Tom gave a smile that only Harry could see before continuing. “If something goes wrong, I can handle it. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Don’t blame me for my actions later.”
“I can’t make any promises.” Harry hit him on his forearm for the statement before he exited the dining room, leaving Tom to deal with the matron.
In hindsight, Tom should’ve known something was about to happen. Nothing was ever simple with Tom. Nor was it with Harry.
When Mrs. Cole led him down to the basement of the orphanage and not her office, Tom was on high alert for anything and everything. No one went down here other than the matrons for supplies and such; the kids were too scared to even think to pick lock the door to the basement.
Well, children other than Tom and Harry.
Though they didn’t explore much here either, it held little importance to them at the time, and that it was too risky to use the basement. The door to its stairwell was directly in front of the matron’s office and Tom knew that he and Harry would get severely punished for it if they even tried to attempt to pick the basement door open.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the basement hallway seemed extremely still like time was a figment of Tom’s imagination.
The dust was falling so slowly that Tom thought it was a still replica of a room. The dingy concrete walls looked nothing but plain and drab because of their little use for the kids in the building; then again, the whole orphanage was drab. The light illuminating the hallway was flickering every so often.
It was the exact same as they last saw it.
The sight made Tom’s stomach churn but it didn’t deter his mask in the slightest. He’s experienced worse than being in a murder basement; he can handle whatever Mrs. Cole wanted for him.
The matron led him inside the third door on the right side of the hall. It was empty besides a chair and a small table beside it with a small dingy light in the middle of the room.
Tom read enough stories and books to know where this is going and he didn’t like it.
“Riddle,” Mrs. Cole called. “Sit on the chair.” The matron gestured to the chair in the middle of the room and as Tom reluctantly sat on it, dread growing. When he sat on the chair, his hands felt leather on the side of it wrapping around to under the seat.
Tom didn’t like where this was going at all. Though if he was right about where this was going, he was sure that he could handle it.
Evidently, fate had a grudge on him for some godforsaken reason because it got worse . The assistant matron walked in with a man in a familiar surplice that Tom still hated to this day. The man was also holding a bible and a crucifix in his right hand and holy water in his left. The sight made Tom sneer.
The man had grey hair and a well-kempt beard and if Tom was being honest, the man looked like a grandfather of sorts (not that he knew about having one in any way). His face ruined it though. It had a closed-off look that Tom saw in everyone he met, everyone except Harry.
It was a look he saw with the nuns, with the matrons, and with the other kids around him. He hated that look, it made him feel inferior and Tom Riddle was not inferior.
If Mrs. Cole was going to play this way, Tom was going to fight back. A fight was a fight no matter what and Tom wasn’t going to start losing now.
The exorcist laid his tools on the only table in the room and assessed Tom like he was vermin on the road but it only made Tom disappointed in him. Weren’t people who do things in the name of God kind and nurturing? If they were then who were these imposters fucking Tom’s life up? Were they demons in search of a host? Were they banshees looking for someone to kill?
Tom didn’t care anymore.
He already gave up on religion and it’s sick preaching that they knew the truth about death and the afterlife. Even as a 10-year-old Tom knew it was utter bullshit.
“Tom Riddle, I am Paul Stevens,” came the deep voice of the man, finally facing Tom after a few minutes of ignoring him and preparing the room for what was about to happen. Tom sighed. Honestly, Tom thought people had more decorum than this.
Oh well, you shouldn’t expect an idiot to talk when they didn't know anything in the first place. Tom knew that first hand.
As the man motioned for Martha Charles to tie Tom up with the belts, he asked Tom, “Do you know what is going to happen?”
Tom smirked, one full of malicious intent. If Mrs. Cole and this a-hole wanted a reaction, Tom was going to give them a performance. If they expected him to be dancing with demons, he was going to be the devil orchestrating the whole party.
“Well, no, but I’m not an idiot though, unlike some people,” Tom admitted, a bored drawl covering up his amusement and growing hatred for Mrs. Cole. “Here’s three guesses about what’s to happen.” Tom leaned back and smirked at the exorcist looking at him before he lowered his eyes and acted submissive. He had this wide-eyed innocent look on him, his bottom lip parted and protruded just a bit to make the exorcist take a step back.
It made Tom want to laugh, this was too easy .
“One, I’m going to get violated.” Tom was internally smirking as he said it, looking down before back up again and reveling in the way that the pastor reddened in incredulousness and rage at Tom for suggesting such a thing in front of a man of God.
And people say that Tom was an egoistic little shit.
“Two, I’m going to die.” While Tom was afraid of dying in general like every other person than Harry, he wasn’t afraid to joke about it. After all, why would you be scared of something you joke about? You’re already brave enough to talk about it. Cowards are the ones that die by fear and their own hesitance to conquer their lives. True people die by their actions, their ambition to learn the world, and their own acceptance of death. Prisoners were the ones who had no choice.
Tom was neither a prisoner nor a coward; he was a king that would rule the world.
“Or three,” Tom made his magic surround and intoxicate the room, smirking and celebrating the panicked looks of the once enraged face of the three adults in front of him. After he’s going to apologize for making Harry worry, he’s going to retell this whole experience word for word. It was only fair after all. “you’re going to exorcise me.”
Tom admired the way Stevens held himself together after his act despite the shock at the start. It seemed the man was a master of his craft, Tom had to give him props for that no matter how much he thought it was all bullshit.
“It is the third one, boy,” The exorcist exclaimed, already gripping his holy water in his right hand.
Tom sighed like he had done this act countless times before and truthfully, if Harry wasn’t with him constantly, he probably would have already had.
The exorcist nodded as Mrs. Cole and Tom sighed again. Showtime.
It had taken all of Tom’s control to not outright laugh at the end of the exorcism.
It had been stupid but really damn amusing to see Mrs. Cole fearing for her life and the pure and unadulterated determination of the exorcist that is Paul Stevens. Sucks to be them, the only demon in Tom was his mind and personality. You can’t blame someone for being themselves, it’s the natural way of things.
They would die before they could get their hands on Tom though.
Tom groaned once the belts had been removed from his person. It had been annoying to be stuck in a wooden chair for two hours bored and with no rest. He complained once or twice during the session for extra flair and dramatics he thought lacked in the whole affair. It had been a joy to act out.
Once Mrs. Cole led him to his and Harry’s rooms, he quickly slid in and locked the room before his arms were full of his best friend.
Harry’s voice came in muffled from stuffing his face in Tom’s chest. “Are you okay?” He asked and removed himself slightly from the hug to get a good look at Tom’s face.
Tom fondly sighed and ruffled Harry’s hair.
When Harry’s face scrunched up and swatted Tom’s hand from his bird nest, Tom laughed at the gesture. “I told you I’d be okay, didn’t I?”
Harry only hugged him again and tightened his hold on Tom.
For the rest of the night, Harry didn’t let Tom go. When Harry said that he shouldn’t be blamed for his actions, he really meant it.
Instead of complaining (it wasn’t like he could, Harry was stubborn like that), Tom retold everything that happened downstairs to make Harry relax. Tom hated Harry getting anxious over something so silly like Mrs. Cole’s attempts to ‘cure’ Tom.
If Tom could, he would show Harry his memory because no matter how expansive Tom’s vocabulary is, no words can describe the reactions from adults around him only a few minutes ago.
They were now cuddling on Harry’s bed partly because Harry didn’t want to let go of Tom and Tom was too exhausted to keep standing because of the act he kept up the whole time with Paul Stevens and the matrons.
Tom didn’t mind though, he’d gotten used to it over the years.
“D’you think they’ll try it again?” Harry asked, his face half mushed because of his face on Tom’s chest. Tom only burrowed his face into Harry’s messy curls and tightened his hold on him. No matter what he felt nor how he acted would change the fact that Tom was actually really fucking terrified downstairs. He was only lucky that Mrs. Cole wanted him exorcised and not dead.
“I know they will,” Tom murmured. He felt Harry’s arm around his waist tighten at his comment and lightly grinned. “And they’ll come for you too. I don’t want that to happen.”
Harry sat up from his spot and looked over his shoulder to face Tom, leaving the said boy with his arms spread on the bed, hair mussed. “Well, it’ll happen, Tom,” Harry claimed but all Tom could see was how the moonlight coming from the window highlighted Harry in a way that made Tom’s breath hitch. The soft light illuminated Harry’s skin like he was a fallen angel. It only really served to draw Tom’s attention to Harry’s emerald eyes, filled with fear and determination and defiance. “Whether you like it or not.”
“I know…” He trailed off, still admiring the scene before him. His best friend really was a masterpiece in everything he was, even in looks. Tom wasn’t surprised though. “I still won’t like it in the slightest. I already want to kill Mrs. Cole now, how much more than I can handle if it’s you who was down there.”
Harry sighed again at Tom’s reluctance to accept the truth.
He was sitting on Tom’s stomach instead of fighting him, knowing that the other boy wouldn’t try to push him off after they finished talking about a matter as personal as this. Tom didn’t have the heart to. Then again, Tom didn’t have much of a heart to begin with.
“It’ll happen either way Tom,” Harry said, grinning at the way Tom was still recovering from the sudden pressure on his stomach. “Stop being so stubborn and actually think for once.”
“You saying that to yourself in the mirror this morning,” Tom quipped, breath heavy but spirit still much more alive than before. Harry always had that effect on him. It made Tom wonder how things could have been so different if Tom didn’t have Harry all these years.
Harry squished Tom’s cheeks in retaliation, not budging in the slightest even if Tom grabbed his wrists to let go. Soon enough, Tom grumbled about Harry being more stubborn and gave up his attempts to remove Harry’s hands on his cheeks.
“I hate you.”
“You love me, really.”
Tom smiled as he said, “Unfortunately,” to Harry’s last statement and laughed as Harry let his cheeks go and hit him in revenge for his comment.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Harry huffed. He sat up and crossed his arms in a way that reminded Tom of a put-out cat. “You, Tom Riddle, are one stubborn individual who is blind to the fact that I’m best friends with you. Even if I’m only a bit involved with you and not best friends, Mrs. Cole would have already dragged me down to the basement to interrogate me.”
Tom glowered at that and grinned as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist instead and pulled him forward. Harry yelped as he narrowly avoided having his face smashed into Tom’s with his arms on both sides of his best friend’s face.
“What was that?!” Harry exclaimed, still reeling from the almost assault Tom pulled on him.
“Revenge,” Tom simply said, arms still hooked around Harry’s waist. Before Harry had the chance to speak again to Tom about his stubbornness, Tom used his arms to drag Harry down to the open space beside him on the bed. Tom sat up and Harry kicked him in the back, sending him tumbling down to the floor between their two beds.
“D’you like what revenge feels now, Tommy?”
Tom groaned as he stretched his back, trying to ease out the pain Harry’s kick brought him. He sighed as he heard the satisfying cracking sounds while Harry was wincing at it.
“That was uncalled for, Harry.”
“Everything is uncalled for, Tom.”
Tom sighed and sat back up on the bed.
“I know I’m stubborn, Harry.” At the tone of Tom’s voice, Harry quickly sat up attentively. It made Tom’s lips quirk up just a bit. “But you’re my only friend and I don’t want you getting hurt. Lord knows what I’d do when I’ll realize that it’ll go back to the way it was before you arrived at the orphanage. I don’t want that to happen again.”
Harry snorted at the small joke but other than that kept himself attentive to listening to Tom. A serious Tom was a Tom you should listen to. Harry learned that lesson the hard way, especially when said boy didn’t even open up that much compared to Harry.
Tom lifted his knee and rested his chin on it. It made Tom look more tired than how he actually was from Harry’s perspective. “I was miserable back then.”
“I know.” Was Harry’s only response.
Tom continued on again, now looking at Harry. There was an indescribable look in his eyes that Harry couldn’t understand. Harry thinks he never will. “I kept thinking what would’ve happened if you weren’t here.”
“But I’m here, Tom,” replied Harry. He lifted his hand and gently grabbed Tom’s bicep, squeezing in reassurance. “I’m not leaving any time soon.”
Tom copied Harry’s previous answer. “I know.”
They fell into a comfortable silence. Tom stared off into space while Harry stared at him, hand still on Tom’s arm. The moonlight was on Tom now, like the moon understood what Tom felt as the gentle caress of the light graced Tom’s curls like a crown made only for him. His usual dark brown eyes were illuminated and it was no longer like the dark chocolate they saw at the store; the brown of his iris was like the leaves in fall with little flecks of wine red here and there.
Maybe it was just Harry but Tom looked like a fallen angel of the grace of God or maybe even Lucifer with how he looked right now.
The silence broke as Tom called out to Harry. Harry answered; he always did and he wasn’t going to stop now.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Harry asked.
Tom looked at Harry with the same indescribable look that Harry couldn’t decipher. Tom whispered, “For being my friend.”
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
-Oscar Wilde