A Tale of Two Toms

Dinner was announced by Tom, Harry’s Tom, reappearing in the doorway and muttering resentfully about it. Tom (Tim) perked up, the  idea of eating food for the first time in.. 5 hours? sounding delicious. Harry, on the other hand, still had the sound barrier up, so didn’t pay any attention. Rolling his eyes with an expression of irritation, Tom walked into the room and stood in front of Harry waving until he looked up. As soon as his master met his eyes, he resaid his words in a slightly more resentful tone, grumpy about having to repeat himself.

“What?” asked Harry, waving his wand to dispel the silencing bubble around him. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Tom repeated, his voice now resentful and irritated. 

“OK, fine - you don’t have to be so grumpy about it,” Harry told him. Tom threw up his hands in disgust and stormed away into the kitchen.  

Other Tom yelled after him, “What’s for dinner, oh worse version of me?” No answer came from the kitchen, just the sound of barely audible curses. Harry looked at Tom, Tim, that is. 

“What’s up with him?” he asked. 

Tom shrugged. “Sexual frustration? Has he come out as exceedingly gay yet?” Harry stared at him.

“I...couldn’t possibly comment.” Frankly, the idea of Voldemort actually having anything to do with sex was...repulsive to say the least. Although, Tom...well, Tom was a bit different, wasn’t he? And Tom was...a lot more attractive than a slit-nosed snake-hybrid...thing. “Uh, shall we go and find out what’s for dinner?” he asked, hoping to move the conversation on a bit from those uncomfortable thoughts. 

ImposTom seemed to know where Harry’s thoughts had gone and was grinning mischievously. “Of course. I’d like to see how good of a cook he is, to be honest. Merlin knows, which is a bad example because Merlin doesn’t care for my cooking skills at all, except for the time I almost burnt down the entire kingdom of Camelot, well- Merlin knows my Harry won’t let me cook.” Harry looked taken aback by the stream of consciousness which had poured out of Tom - perhaps the brief break of sanity with his Charms textbook had made him more sensitive again after his previous exposure. He wasn’t sure where to start.

“You knew Merlin?” seemed to be a good place, except, wait, “You almost burnt down Camelot?!”

“Nobody told me you’re not supposed to heat up hot pockets with medieval equipment. But yeah, Merlin was cool. Also some sort of twink and definitely screwing Arthur.”

Harry decided to stop asking questions. Every time he did, he just ended up with more. Not to mention all the weird images he also gained, some of which he could do with having some brain-bleach or a carefully aimed obliviate to get rid of. Fortunately, his inner debate on whether or not to ask Tom more questions about this so-called relationship between the two most famous figures of medieval literature was interrupted by his slave returning to find out what was keeping them.

“It’s getting cold,” snapped Harry’s Tom from the doorway. “Master,” he added on grudgingly after wincing as the collar punished him for his disrespect. 

“What’s for dinner, Tommy boi?” Tom, Harry’s Tom, glared at ImposTom. 

“That’s not my name, you...you Gryffindor-loving fool!”

“Listen, Godric Gryffindor was hot, okay? Why do people keep acting so surprised??” ImposTom wondered, sounding genuinely confused. Not that he was, he just liked messing with people.

“Is he your husband, then?” asked Harry with interest, while his Tom gaped with disgust at his counterpart. 

“Hell no. Godric was married to Slytherin.” At this, Harry’s jaw dropped and Tom’s...well, since he was already gaping, there wasn’t much change, but the fact that he was further shocked was shown by the almost glazed look that entered his eyes.

“You didn’t know? I mean, what did you think the Chamber of Secrets was for? It’s literally their weird sex dungeon.” This, of course, was a lie, but to be fair they did spend a lot of “bonding time” down there. Harry closed his mouth, but appeared to be going a little green.

“You know,” he said, sounding a bit nauseous, “that gives a whole different take on the ‘snake going in and out of Slytherin’s mouth thing…” His Tom seemed to think about it for a moment and then clearly checked out of reality.

“The food’s getting cold,” he suddenly blurted. “I’m going to...um, I’m going to uh...I’m going.” And so saying, he turned and vanished like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. 

“But wait, don’t you want to know about-”

Harry cut him off. “No, I think we’re fine for now, thanks. You’ve given us...lots of food for thought.”

“Oh right, speaking of food!” Tom started, “I never got an answer! What’s for dinner??” Harry just sighed and led Tom down the hallway and the flight of stairs into the kitchen. 

Dinner appeared to be bolognaise (which is apparently a very specific kind of spaghetti). A simple, but tasty dish which Tom had become quite practised at during the last few dinners. Truthfully, he had been trying to annoy Harry by repeating  the same dish every time he cooked, but so far, he wasn’t sure the boy had even noticed. 

“Ooooh, spaghetti!!” ImposTom immediately sat down, waiting for the food to be served. “Last time I tried to make spaghetti, I burned down the Fire Nation.”  Native Tom placed a dish in front of Harry with a small thump.

“It’s not spaghetti, it’s spaghetti bolognese, you ignorant fool,” he spat, dropped a plate in front of ImposTom from high enough above the surface that a splatter of sauce sprayed out onto the table and ImposTom himself. 

“You fooél. You absolute buffoon,”  Tom mocked with a horrible French accent, then actually looked down at his plate.“Dang, Harry was right. I am petty and dramatic!” ImposTom didn’t even seem to mind being splashed, because he was licking it all off with no hesitation, even lifting up his shirt to get a splash towards the bottom. “Not bad, not bad. I’ve tasted better, I’ve cooked worse.”

“From what you’ve been saying so far, that’s not setting the benchmark very high,” remarked Harry wryly. 

“I don’t deserve to be called out like this,” ImposTom replied indignantly. Native Tom seemed to have decided to block out the conversation as much as possible. Having served everyone at the table, he was now sitting down, wolfing down his food as quickly as possible, perhaps under the impression that the quicker he ate, the quicker he could leave this rapidly deteriorating situation. Clearing his plate he stood up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Harry lazily. 

“I’ve finished, master,” Tom replied as if it was obvious. 

“But neither I, nor our guest has…” Harry commented. 

“So…?” asked Tom, with a dawning sense of horror. 

“So, you’re not allowed to leave the table before we’re all finished. It would be rude, after all, to leave our guest here on his own,” Harry told him virtuously. Tom slumped back into his seat, glaring at their ‘guest’ as if that would make him eat faster. 

ImposTom was taking his time, slurping up a single noodle at a time. “Truly a marvelous dish, but a little light on the.. Noodle,” he decided, munching on another single noodle.

“What do you mean, light on the noodle?” demanded Tom indignantly, offended at the criticism of a dish he felt he’d perfected. “All you’ve eaten are noodles!” 

“Yeah, but there’s not enough noodle, in my opinion. And according to you, Tom Riddle’s opinion is the only one that matters,” ImposTom nodded wisely, agreeing with his own statement.

Harry, looking at Tom, wondered if he was about to have an aneurysm - he was so red in the face.

“My opinion is the only one that matters, and I am still not convinced that you are anything other than a demon sent to plague me!”

“What about my opinion?” asked Harry with a slightly dangerous tone in his voice. Tom looked at him and blanched slightly.

“Of course your opinion is important, master,” he said in an attempt to calm his master down. Harry, of course, wasn’t at all angry, but he found it amusing to pretend he was. Frankly, when ImposTom wasn’t saying things that raised more questions than they actually answered and served to turn Harry’s world upside down, he was pretty amusing to have around. Harry thought it was delicious irony that Tom Riddle was actually Tom Riddle’s worst enemy. 

“Bold of you to assume you’d be important enough for a demon to even notice you. I know for a fact that demons are very busy. Usually. Sometimes. Maybe. Okay yeah not really, but they still couldn’t care less about you,” ImposTom slurped one (1) noodle. Native Tom tapped one (1) finger on the table. 

A doorbell rang. Harry looked up and frowned. He didn’t have a doorbell… Also, how had anyone got close enough to the door to ring the doorbell (that he didn’t have) without him feeling them in the wards? He stood up. 

“Don’t kill each other while I’m gone,” he warned the two Toms. His Tom looked up and glared at him in response. ImposTom just looked up with the kind of innocent eyes normally found on puppies and kittens. With a final warning look at them, Harry walked out of the kitchen to answer the door. 

Outside was...a man. With a pizza. And a fake-looking moustache. A very fake-looking moustache. Hang on, didn’t he look kinda familiar, like looking in the mirror, familiar? 

“I have the pizza you ordered,” the man told him with a wicked grin. Harry face-palmed.

“You’re Tom’s master, right?” he asked wearily. “And, I guess, my counterpart from a different dimension?”

Out of nowhere, ImposTom came up from behind him and stared at the box. After a couple seconds, he grabbed the pizza box and literally threw it frisbee style across the yard without a single ounce of hesitation.

The other Harry didn’t even look surprised. Or mad. “You know, that was pepperoni.”

ImposTom narrowed his eyes in disbelief, and Harry (oh no, was he Native Harry now??) could finally understand how his Tom and this Tom could be the same person. “Was it.”

“Yah.”

“If I go over there and check, it will be pepperoni? It’s not going to be pineapple?”

“Yah.”

“.. I don’t believe you.”

Tom walked out into the yard, and for a second Harry wondered if ImposTom was going to get brutally shocked for leaving the house wards, but nothing happened. Tom prowled around the unassuming box for a moment, like some weird cat, and then finally, after sending one last glare towards his Harry, opened the box.

“Huh, perhaps it is pepperoni,” ImposTom admitted, grabbing one of the less-damaged slices and taking a bite.

Only to immediately spit it out.

“YOU FIEND OF A BRAT!” Tom turned around, throwing the slice with a true aim of someone who’s practiced his aim for a lot of years throwing Pokeballs. The slice of pineapple pizza, which had been under an illusion to look like pepperoni, hit Other Harry straight in the chest, though with the not-covered-in-sauce side hitting and then flopping on the ground with no damage done.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Tom muttered, and was then on the ground in copious amounts of pain, though it honestly wasn’t as bad as native Tom made it out to be. It was like.. A Cruciatus, but Tom was already halfway immune to those.. Except from Harry, but let’s not talk about that.

Ah, so Tom’s collar does work, Native Harry mused. Perhaps it was like it had been with him and his Tom - the collar hadn’t been active until he had recognised his claim. 

Other Harry just watched this, looking far too amused in Native Harry’s opinion. He had kinda liked other Tom. “You deserved that!”

“You deserve my fist in your face!” Tom yelled back over.

“If you complete that sentence I’ll find out how to make that ongoing for our entire time here.” 

“So...would you like to come in?” asked Native Harry, trying to derail the rapidly deteriorating situation. 

Tom had already stood up and dusted his jeans off, then walked over to where both Harrys were standing. “Worse version, as in, less gay and more homicidial, of me made spaghetti.”

“And the house is still standing?” Other Harry asked incredulously.

“Apparently my Tom is a lot more trustworthy in the kitchen than your Tom,” commented Native Harry, “If his stories of almost burning down Camelot are true, that is.”

“They are.”

Tom glanced between both Harrys, looking half betrayed by the callout, and decided to get back to annoying the other Tom. “Oh worse version of me, where art thou? Has somebody toucha my spaghet?!” He dashed into the house, only to come back half a second later to rip off the very fake moustache his Harry was still sporting.

“Owwwwww,” Other Harry whined.

And true to the collar, Native Harry could see ImposTom flinch in what was probably excruciating pain, but to his credit, he didn’t react any further. Once he had recovered, he disappeared again into the house.

A few seconds pause, and then.. “SOMEBODY HAS TOUCHA’D MY SPAGHET!”

Harry, Native Harry, turned to Other Harry after eyeing the empty doorway through which the utterances had issued. 

“Has Tom always been like... this?” Native Harry asked Other Harry quietly and seriously. “Or did you...tame him, somehow? How did he get like...this?”

Other Harry took his question into consideration, and then snorted. “Tom is the one who asked to be my slave. I only accepted his offer.” Native Harry stared at him.

“...In what situation did Tom Riddle, the man who became Voldemort because he wanted to control the Wizarding world, ever decide that he wanted to become a slave?”

“.. It’s been a long time,”  Harry murmured, the same tone his Tom had used when he’d described his husband. “Forever is a long time to spend by yourself, you know? And we only have each other.”

“And his husband, of course,” Native Harry commented.

“And his husband,” agreed Other Harry easily. Too easily. Native Harry eyed him with slight suspicion, but then dismissed it. If he couldn’t trust himself, who could he trust?

“But seriously, how did Tom ever get to the point where he wanted to become a slave? Merlin knows my Tom would probably kill me without a second thought if he ever got free.”

“.. He’ll change. They always do, once meeting you.” Native Harry looked at him and saw the knowingness in his gaze.

“Huh,” he replied, thoughtfully. Well, that would probably be put to the test with his Tom but… “How many of us have you met?” 

“Uh.. How many others have I met?” Other Harry pondered the question for a moment, then yelled into the kitchen. “Hey Tom, how many other Toms have we met?”

“Too many, darling, too many.”

“His husband lets him call you ‘darling’?” Harry asked, surprised, then shook the thought out of his head. “Never mind. Anyway, I guess this is all pretty normal for you, then, but...well, having two Toms around is an...experience. An experience I’m not sure my Tom is going to survive with his sanity intact…”

Other Harry snorted again. “Bold of you to assume he has it in the first place.” A pause for a moment. “I heard my Tom mention a duel earlier?”

“...How did you hear that?” Harry asked, in surprise.

“I have my ways. This time, it’d be the fact that I was listening in because I wanted to see what Tom would try to eat now that pizza was off the list. Also because I had no clue which dimension I’d dropped him in, and I’d rather not have to piece him back together molecule by molecule again,” Other Harry stated, like that was an everyday occurrence.

“...Again?” Native Harry asked weakly before shaking his head violently. “Nope. I think I’ve reached my crazy limit for today. Shall we go inside? If the Toms have finished, we can go and see about that duel.” He paused for a moment before eyeing his counterpart warily. “Am I right in thinking he’s really going to get his ass kicked? My Tom, that is.”

“Depends. But most likely, yes.” Native Harry chuckled suddenly.

“Am I the only one who thinks that it’ll be pretty awesome to watch Tom Riddle taking Tom Riddle down a peg?”

Other Harry nodded in agreement and then they both disappeared into the house leaving a lonely pizza box lying in the front yard. 

As Native Harry led the way into the kitchen, he found the two Toms arguing over a plate of spaghetti. Stopping dead at the bottom, Other Harry still hidden in the shadows of the flight of stairs down, Native Harry noticed that his Tom was looking rather smug and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Tom,” he said sternly. Both of them looked up. “My Tom,” he clarified. “Not the dimension-travelling one. What did you do?” 

“You said I couldn’t leave the table until everyone had finished, master,” Tom explained, then stopped. 

“Go on,” Harry ground out. 

“So...I finished the plates. Mostly.”

Other Tom crossed his arms, looking like a grumpy toddler, in Native Harry’s important opinion, “He toucha’d my spaghet.” Native Harry shot him a look before looking back at his Tom. Sighing, he rubbed a hand across his face and turned to the Harry behind him.

“What would you do about this?” he asked wearily. 

“Well, Riddle,” Other Harry appeared behind Native Tom through a familiar-looking portal, who jumped in surprise and banged his hand on the table, “If you’ve already finished most of the plate, you might as well eat the rest.” Tom made a face. Looking between his master and this other Harry, a calculating look came into his eyes.

“And touch something he’s  touched? I might catch some of his insanity, Potter,” he commented disdainfully. When his collar didn’t react to the use of Harry’s surname, his lips quirked in victory. 

“Famous Pottah, with his scar and his broomstick.” ImposTom mocked, grinning at his Harry. “Look how dramatic I am! Isn’t it the worst, Master?”

“Well,” Native Harry said finally, deciding that Tom’s pettiness, since it hadn’t seemed to have offended or even upset either of their guests - he didn’t count ImposTom’s little tantrum - wasn’t worth punishing. “Let’s go find a room where we can have a duel. I think there’s something like that in this house.... Unless you have any better ideas?” He turned towards Other Harry with a questioning look. 

“Perhaps a mountaintop? Or maybe the lost city of Atlantis?” Other Harry questioned.

“What about another planet?” Other Tom added on.

“Could.. Hmm.. I can always just create a room, of course.”

“Better be somewhere my Tom can’t just claim was manipulated by you when he loses,” Native Harry commented.

“Lose?” Native Tom scoffed. “I won’t lose!”

The other three people in the room ignored him completely.

“How about the dueling room at the Ministry?” suggested Native Harry. “I could probably get us in.”

“Boooringgg,” Other Harry (OtHarry??) whined.

“What about..” ImposTom eyes gleamed with an idea. “THE MOON.” 

“Would we even be able to cast spells in such low gravity?” asked Native Harry dubiously.

“That’s your problem, man,” Other Harry replied.

“Why don’t we just go to Mongolia,” muttered Native Tom sarcastically. 

“HELL YEAH MONGOLIA. Tom you’re on the side of the Mongols,” Other Harry stated immediately.

“What does that even mean,” Other Tom asked, though with a tone saying he most definitely did not want an answer.

“That was sarcastic!” objected Native Tom, a note of panic in his voice. “I don’t want to go to bloody Mongolia! It’s too far to apparate, anyway.”

“Nope! You chose the place, you  can’t back out now. Nor say that we’re cheating based on location,” ImposTom nodded.

“You think apparition is going to stop me??? Who do you think I am?? Some pansy Death Eater??” OtHarry exclaimed. “Oooh, let me travel across entire dimensions but Mongolia? Nah, that’s too far.”

“Well, I haven’t quite mastered the art of dimension travelling, so it’s a fair question to ask,” Native Harry pointed out. 

ImposTom looked thoughtful. “What if.. we go back in time and duel with the Mongols?”

Just as OtHarry started to get an excited look-

“No!” exclaimed both Natives simultaneously, for the first time sharing a look that was completely in agreement. They subsequently looked away in disgust. Trying to divert the topic, Native Harry continued. 

“OK, so, if we’re going to Mongolia,” because honestly? That wasn’t the worst idea he’d heard. Not when the moon was on the table as an option, anyway. “How are we going to get there if not apparition?”

The dimension-travelers shared a look, and then, without warning, there was a hole beneath their feet that they were falling through.

“Aaaaargh!” screamed both Natives, not used to this means of travelling. The ground was getting closer and closer-

Then, about ten feet off the ground, the air suddenly seemed to thicken rapidly, becoming almost…elastic. An inch off the ground, they bounced back into the air, repeating the action a few more times before they came to a total stop a foot off the ground. And then they dropped. Again. But this time, the ground didn’t bounce.

“Ow,” groaned Native Harry, rubbing his nose which had slammed into a rock. 

“What are you complaining about?” grumbled Native Tom. “I feel like I’ve broken a rib!” He winced. “Master,” he added begrudgingly. 

Other Harry was sitting on the ground next to them, looking perfectly fine, not even dust on his clothes.

“Where’s Tom,” Native Harry asked, looking around.

“I’m here, master,” said Native Tom in an annoyed tone of voice.

“Not you.” Harry rounded on him. “I know where you are. I meant the other Harry’s Tom.”

“Tom.. fell a bit further,” Other Harry answered.

“How can you fall further?” asked Native Harry warily. 

Suddenly, a head appeared halfway out of the ground, translucent like all of the ghosts at Hogwarts. “Master, what the actual hell.” Other Tom, who was apparently a ghost, climbed the rest of the way out of.. Underground.. And proceeded to turn tangible again, sitting on the ground next to his Harry.

“Don’t tell me you actually went to Hell,” said Harry, half-joking, but also half-serious considering the stories he’d heard so far that day. 

“Went to Hell? Bitch, I’m the king!” Other Tom grinned. “That has nothing to do with this power, though.”

“Look, are we actually going to start this duel or not,” Native Tom grumped. “You’ve dragged us out here to do one, so let’s start already. Also, I hope you don’t expect me to duel without a wand, master,” he said to Harry, moderating his tone slightly, a gleam of greed in his eyes. Native Harry got a deer-in-the-headlights look. 

“But don’t you want to know how Tom died?” OtHarry asked innocently.

“No, he doesn’t,” Other Tom said quickly. Side-eying Other Tom, and seeing how he was saying ‘no’ with big arm gestures and exaggerated mouth movements.

“Yes…?” he replied, tentatively. 

Other Harry grinned. “He tripped down some stairs and cracked his head open, fell unconscious, and bled out very quickly  upon entering another universe, and now he tries to avoid the landing in them at all costs.”

“But...didn’t you try to help him?” Native Harry asked in confusion. After all, he knew a few healing charms which could at least slow the bleeding for long enough to get help; surely this other Harry who’d been around for a while would know more magic than he did?

“I was too busy laughing,” Other Harry replied without a shred of shame.

“It’s not funny!” ImposTom exclaimed.

Other Harry looked at his Tom. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It wasn’t funny--it was hilarious.” Native Harry just looked horrified. 

“Duel!!” interrupted Native Tom rudely. By this point, he was rather fed-up with the visitors and, having been tempted with the opportunity to actually do magic, something he had been prevented from doing for more than three months, he was getting rather tired of it being delayed by inconsequential stories. 

“Fine fine,” Other Harry agreed, “but one more thing.”

“No! No more of your insane stories! Let’s get to the duel!” exclaimed Tom in frustration. 

Other Harry calmly looked at him, tilting his head in confusion. “I was just going to mention a prize for the winner.”

“A prize?” the natives repeated, once again in unison. This time, they refused to look towards each other, both of them deciding to ignore the fact that they had clearly been thinking along the same lines for the second time in ten minutes. 

“How about this-” Other Harry started, the gleam in his eyes looking a little too amused for what’s about to happen, “If you win, Riddle, then I will personally remove the collar for you and declare you free.”

Native Tom and Harry just stared at him for a moment.

“Can you actually do that?” asked Native Harry, a note of doubt in his voice. “Lady Magic said that we were so interwoven that even She didn’t want to pull us apart. That’s why I’m the only master that Tom will ever have, and why when I die, Tom will die too.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed easily. “I can do much more than that, though. In fact, even without the collar, your Tom poses no threat to me.”

“Prove it,” said Native Tom challengingly. 

“Tom,” Other Harry’s eyes turned cold, “Kneel.”

Before he even knew what was happening, Tom was forced to his knees. He gaped, wondering what had happened. He hadn’t felt a twitch from the collar, not a single shock of pain. He’d just...been standing, and then he was kneeling. He tried to get up, but it was like his body simply wasn’t responding to him. A wave of terror rolled over him - with the collar he could at least choose whether or not to follow the command, depending on how much pain he could tolerate, but with this…

Other Tom--Other Harry’s actual slave--was still standing, with a neutral look on his face.

“And that is why you prove no threat,” Other Harry murmured. “That’s what’s scary about being me--my Tom’s Right of Conquest transfers to any and all Tom Marvolo Riddles, no matter what dimension.”

“That doesn’t technically mean that you can remove the collar, though,” pointed out Native Harry, not sure how he felt about the revelation of this other Harry’s control over his slave. “I mean, really, the collar responds to me as its master, but I can’t take it off. Regardless of this other sort of...control that you have, where’s the proof that you can take the collar off?”

Other Harry’s amused look only grew. His Tom was still standing by him, watching with a blank look as this all went down. Harry stepped forward, until he was standing in front of Native Tom, still forced to kneel. “Do not move.”

He leaned down, taking Tom’s collar off without a single problem. For a moment, Native Tom was completely stunned. He’d hoped...but he hadn’t dared to believe that it was possible. Then, in the next moment he stared at that hated band of magic-infused fabric dangling limply from the hands of the other Harry and he felt a loathing of a strength he had heretofore felt only for Dumbledore. Summoning his magic,still unable to move from the Other Harry’s orders, he prepared a wandless spell that would blast the damn thing to pieces. 

Just as he was about to cast it, though, he suddenly felt the building magic subside into nothing. What? He looked around frantically, only able to move his eyes. And then he saw it - the other Tom was looking at him, holding a hand out. Somehow, Tom knew that this was the reason he had failed to cast the spell. He glared at the man with the force of a thousand suns. 

In a voice only the two Toms seemed to hear, that was as hard as frozen steel and just as warm, Other Tom murmured, “Do not hurt my master.”

While Native Tom had been distracted with ImposTom, Other Harry had clipped the collar back on before he’d even noticed. When he realised the band was back around his neck, Native Tom felt a weight of despair crush him once again - the brief instant without it making its burden feel greater, for all that the collar itself was almost weightless. He choked down the urge to sob, unwilling to look weak. Along with his despair, though, he felt an equal amount of determination to win - now that he knew this Other Harry was capable of fulfilling his promise, he would do anything to achieve the prize.

OtHarry leaned down once more and whispered into Tom’s ear. “I release you from your orders.”

Tom felt himself collapse, no longer held up by the power Other Harry apparently has over him.

“Harry,” Other Tom looked at his master, a frown lining his face. “Red.”

Other Harry paused, literally just froze in place, until he slowly moved to make eye contact with his Tom with a frown.

He looked between him and Native Tom, then back to his Tom with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re being cruel.”

For whatever reason, OtHarry seemed to accept that and gave a short, jerky, nod. Native Harry, seeing that whatever had been going on between his Tom and the Other Harry had finished, stepped forward. He really, really wasn’t sure about this whole thing now, but it seemed rather too late to stop it happening. Besides, he found it unlikely that his Tom would actually stand much of a chance of winning - the whole being able to turn intangible at will was a game-changer by itself; who knew how many other secrets this strange duo were hiding up their sleeves? So yeah, Harry wasn’t too worried about his Tom getting free. Though, he had to wonder how his Tom would react to having freedom dangled in front of him, only to be ripped away. It seemed...cruel. Hmm, maybe that was what ImposTom had been talking about? 

“Shall we get this going?” he asked, resigned to the whole affair. “Ah, but Harry, can you send me back to Grimmauld Place for a moment? I need to get Tom’s wand.” He looked embarrassed. “I... didn’t think about it before we left.”

Other Harry didn’t say a word, but held out his hand which suddenly held the yew wand. Native Harry’s eyes bulged in surprise. Yep. Definitely had secrets up their sleeves - summoning an item from halfway across the world, through two sets of wards was not something most (if any) people could do. 

“Before we start,” Other Tom started, gaining everyone’s attention, “I would now like to choose what prize I would win.”

Other Harry didn’t look surprised at all. Instead, he just summoned a.. Glass of chocolate milk? With a very strange and weirdly twisted looking straw.

ImposTom’s eyes lit up. “YES.”

Native Harry looked between them in complete bemusement. 

“So to one Tom you offer his heart’s desire, and to the other, you offer him...chocolate milk?” Native Harry smirked at him.

“That is my heart’s desire,” ImposTom objected. He walked over to Harry, snatching the wand out of his hand. “I’ll take that.”

Other Tom didn’t even hesitate in walking over to Native Tom and holding it out, apparently having no attachment to something so vital to Native Tom’s life. Native Tom took it, a gleam of hunger and greed lighting in his eyes as he felt his magic connect with his faithful wand once more. It had been so long… He caressed it, feeling it’s smooth silkiness beneath his fingers, paying no mind to the rather obscene gesture he was making. 

“I’d say this is getting into uncomfortable territory but I’m quite enjoying the show,” ImposTom commented.

Native Harry cleared his throat, not quite sure why the sight of Tom...stroking his wand was making colour rise in his cheeks. 

“OK, Tom, during this duel, and only when I say ‘start’, you are allowed to use any type of magic on this other Tom.” He hesitated and looked at OtHarry. “Would you like me to forbid any instantly lethal magic like the Killing Curse?” 

Instead of Harry answering, Tom spoke for him, “If he can hit me with the killing curse and make it stick, I’ll ask Harry to thank him for me.” Native Harry raised his eyebrows at Tom speaking for the other Harry, but when his counterpart didn’t say or do anything to refute the assertion, he just shrugged and turned back to his Tom. 

“Looks like you can use any magic, then. When one of us says ‘stop’, you must stop immediately or be incapacitated by the collar, but if it’s the other Tom saying it, you win. Is that OK with everyone?” he asked, glancing at the two dimension travellers.

Other Harry nodded, and Other Tom was quirking his mouth into a smirk, looking far too excited for what was probably going to be a one-sided match. “Sounds fine to me. Oh, also, if you ever hit me with the killing curse, I’ll count it as an automatic win for you.”

“Good,” Harry said, nodding his head. “OK, both of you, go find a place to start.”

“Prepare to lose miserably,” Native Tom snarled at Other Tom, his eyes alight with fire as he then strode off to a spot further away.

“Joke’s on you, I’m always miserable!” ImposTom responded, sounding way too cheerful for the statement, but proceeded to take his place on the field.

“You don’t even have your wand out, you amateur,” Native Tom smirked, his tone far too gleeful for someone who was likely to get his ass handed to him, in Native Harry’s opinion. Because, yeah, ImposTom didn’t have a wand out, but so far, he’d already demonstrated magic without it, and if he could be as confident as he’d been so far without one, Harry had to suppose that he could back it up. 

Other Tom shrugged. “Don’t need one.”

“Alright, three...two...one...start.”

Native Tom immediately, and predictably, led with a sickly green avada kedavra. ImposTom whipped up a mirror out of nowhere and watched the curse reflect back straight towards Native Tom. Cursing, not with his wand, Native Tom quickly ducked, but used the movement to transition into a blasting curse, which was quickly followed by a powerful binding spell hidden in its light. ImposTom raised an eyebrow, then ducked at just the right time for both of them to fly over his head. 

While he was moving, Native Tom moved into a Dueller’s Hello - a stupefy followed by a glacius shot at Tom’s feet and two Exploding Hexes to either side of Tom. Watching from the side, Native Harry had to admit that he was impressed by both the speed and the fluidity of his Tom’s casting. 

“Is.. Is that it?” ImposTom raised his hand and the curses all bounced off a shield shaped like a beehive, too many tiny hexagons to count. The spells all exploded in their own way at the ground, whipping up a dust cloud (and a miniature ice rink) that gave ImposTom a chance to hide his position, if he were to move.

Native Tom, gritting his teeth at the taunt, took advantage of ImposTom’s obscured vision to apparate silently to the other side of the dust cloud and start preparing a longer incantation. Since he was muttering it under his breath, no one else knew exactly what he was doing, but when the earth started rumbling and cracking beneath the dust cloud, they had an idea. When Tom had completed the spell, a great fissure opened cracking the plain on which they stood in half. Then, he stood, looking tired, but triumphant. 

The dust cloud soon cleared away to show ImposTom, standing on thin air over the middle of the fissure, except.. Was he yawning?! Other Tom looked straight at Native Tom with a tired look, slowly walking towards him with his hands in his pockets, despite the fact, and Native Tom was sure of this fact, that there was no ground beneath him.

Fixing him with a disbelieving look, Tom made an inarticulate noise of frustration.

“Fiendfyre,” he cried, a great basilisk coiling out of his wand. “Kill him,” hissed Tom, perhaps forgetting that, given that this Tom was his counterpart, he would probably be equally capable of using Parseltongue. The basilisk hissed an acknowledgement and shot forwards, encircling Other Tom and starting to constrict its coils. 

“Aren’t you the cutest?”Other Tom cooed, gently stroking the scales of a basilisk made of fiendfyre.“How would you like to be even more powerful?”

The snake hissed an agreement, to Native Tom’s aghast horror. He tried to cut the magic to the spell, but it wasn’t responding to him anymore. Instead, it seemed to be fueled by, if Tom had to take a guess, Other Tom.

And suddenly the basilisk was growing bigger, so much bigger, in size, and.. Sprouting wings??? Also growing feet- Was he turning the snake into a dragon??????? The basilisk-dragon took off into the sky, growing three more sizes and breathing molten fire out of its mouth, letting out a ferocious roar that would leave weaker men quaking in their boots. Native Tom wasn’t sure how that was really possible, because the dragon was still made of fire, and thus, had no vocal cords.

Native Harry looked at OtHarry in some concern, seeing him smirking at the sight, a hint of pleasure in his eyes.

“Um, is my Tom going to...you know...survive this?” he asked tentatively, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer. Because honestly? Tom dying would solve a lot of problems, but on the other hand...he’d probably have a lot of explaining to do and...well, despite what Tom had done as Voldemort, he wasn’t sure that the man deserved to die, especially when he was already being punished by having become a slave. 

Other Harry quirked his lips, shrugging. Native Harry stared at him.

“That wasn’t an answer…” Then he frowned. “Wait, have you...you haven’t actually spoken since your Tom said ‘red’.” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Did he cast a spell on you, or something?” 

OtHarry shook his head, then shrugged again, this time more from indifference.

“That wasn’t an answer!” cried Native Harry again in frustration. Then he calmed himself down. The other Harry had shaken his head, so he guessed it was just another one of the weird quirks these guys had. Far be it to try to interfere with another person’s relationship. Still, about his earlier question… “Fine, if you can’t speak for some reason, or don’t want to, at least you could nod or shake your head. Is my Tom going to survive this?” In the meantime, the massive basilisk-dragon had started its dive towards the white-faced Tom on the ground, his wand shakily held up as a barrier. 

Other Harry looked thoughtful, then nodded. Native Harry nodded in return, not really sure how he felt about it, but figuring relief was the most politically correct one. 

Native Tom cast the most powerful aguamenti spell Harry had ever seen (or maybe it was a different spell which also produced water), a pillar of water emerged from his wand and twisted into the shape of a hydra, standing twenty feet tall. Big as it was, it still seemed small compared to the immense dragon bearing down on him. Tom seemed to realise this as sweat beaded on his forehead and he pumped more magic into the beast, increasing its size by a paltry five feet in height. As the dragon got into range, he cringed away, the hydra spitting at the approaching behemoth and then throwing itself bodily at the attacking creation.  

The dragon didn’t even pause in its descent, breathing a puff of hot air that immediately evaporated any sign of the hydra, and then, at the last second, flapped its wings and took off into the sky with a sharp turn, never even trying to touch Native Tom.

As it flew away into the distance, ImposTom yelled after it, “Be free, my love! Live your life to the fullest!” 

The dragon slowly dissipated as it flew further away. Native Tom stood up from his crouched position, his expression of fear clearing as he realised he wasn’t suddenly going to be immolated. It immediately turned into anger and he raised his wand once more, casting his favourite spell...multiple times. In fact, he veritably rained crucios down on Other Tom, casting them in all areas around Tom to be sure to get him at least once. As Unforgiveables, they couldn’t be blocked by a shield, and this time, he’d been sure to load each of them with enough power to break through a mirror, should his counterpart try the same trick again. 

Other Tom didn’t even try to dodge, looking at the bright red streams of light coming his way with a bit of amusement, but more just looking.. tired by how predictable of an attack this was. He didn’t even try to cast a shield or summon a mirror or anything, just let the spell hit him straight on. Native Tom’s face broke out in a triumphant grin that he had finally managed to land a spell, though the fact that the other Tom hadn’t even tried to avoid it made him feel some misgivings. He looked forward to hearing the long-awaited screams of agony that the other Tom surely deserved, after everything he’d had to go through today.

And.. nothing. Not a flinch, definitely not a scream. Just.. ImposTom standing, hands again in his pockets, looking exactly the same as he had only a second ago. Native Tom’s expression fell. He started to wonder whether he could actually win this, despite how confident he had felt at first. Native Harry echoed his thoughts.

“Is he even having fun?” he asked OtHarry. “I mean, he hasn’t even cast a single spell yet. Unless you count the whole thing with the Fiendfyre, but that was technically my Tom’s spell so…”

“You’re not going to win this,” Other Tom said tiredly, serious for once. “It was useless from the beginning.”

“You don’t know that!” snarled Native Tom, clenching his wand tightly. He summoned his magic in both his wand and his other hand, dual-casting a flurry of spells, none of which hit ImposTom. From the sidelines, Native Harry drew in a breath at the sheer impressiveness of the magical feat he saw before him. Very few wizards were capable of dual casting with two wands, let alone a wand and wandless magic. 

Finally, Native Tom stopped, panting, almost collapsing from completely depleting his magical core in less than ten minutes. The area around them was torn up and pock-marked with the effects of the deflected spells, a small fire burning in some dry grasses. Screaming in frustration, Native Tom threw his wand at Other Tom in a futile gesture of anger. It just bounced off ImposTom and dropped to the ground, letting out a sad spark of light.

“Attack, damn you! Why don’t you attack me?!” he yelled, a note of despair entering his voice. 

“.. There’s no point. I can win just as easily by letting you and your anger run its course. I know what upsets you the most, I can predict your every move, because I am you,” Other Tom sighed.

“Predict this,” seethed Tom, storming up to his counterpart and drawing his fist back to punch that smarmy, smug arse right in the face. 

Before Native Tom could even try to throw the punch, he felt something sharp--a sword--pricking at his throat. One wrong move and no magic could save him. He tried to back away, the punch (and anger) forgotten in his sudden terror of dying in such a mundane way, but the sword held true to its target. Catching his heel in one of the holes he had created, he tripped over the uneven terrain and fell backwards. ImposTom used it to his advantage and pressed him even further into the dirt, until he couldn’t even swallow without cutting his own throat on the tip of the blade.

“I can predict every move you make, because I would do the exact same thing in your shoes,” Other Tom didn’t sound boastful, just.. Sad. Upset. “You will not win.”

Native Tom thought frantically for a way out of this. He would apparate out, but suspected he’d cut his throat on the blade as he twisted into the spell. He didn’t have enough magic to even attempt to do any spell wandless, and his wand was currently too far away for him to reach. Physical means had proved as useless as any other method he’d tried...For the first time in a long time...Tom had no way out.

The words caught in his throat, but he had to say them. If not, the increasing pressure on the razor-sharp tip of the blade at his throat assured him that his counterpart would have no concerns with cutting his throat open. And...he didn’t want to die. 

“I concede,” he whispered, unable to produce the words at any louder volume. Closing his eyes in humiliation, he was barely aware of the sword being withdrawn. It felt like he’d been enslaved again; the loss of his prize tore at him as despair felt like it was crushing his chest. 

He tried to tell himself that he would find a way out of the collar by himself - he didn’t need this other Harry to take it off. Sure, it would have been quicker, and less effort on his behalf, but he would be able to do it himself. He refused to listen to the little voice inside that was suddenly doubting his own abilities, having been presented with a situation where they were nothing in comparison to someone else. Pushing away the feelings of humiliation and despair, he opened his eyes once more. 

A hand entered his vision. Tom looked at it for a moment, and then, with grudging respect, took it. Other Tom pulled him to his feet. Native Tom couldn’t meet his eyes, trudging over to where he had thrown his wand. Picking it up, he walked over to the Harrys, doing his best to hide the emotions he felt at his defeat behind a blank mask. Seeing the look of pity on his master’s face, he felt like throwing something at the man.

Native Harry looked away at the glare his Tom sent him, his eyes alighting on the gleaming sword ImposTom was carrying.

“Where did you get that?” he asked curiously. Was it a summoned item or…?

“My husband made it for me, years ago,” Other Tom answered, sending a look towards his Harry. Native Tom, seeing the look, started having a rather disturbing suspicion. He didn’t voice it, because even saying it might be tantamount to sacrilege, but…

OtHarry shared the look with his Tom, and then turned towards Native Tom, who couldn’t help but feel a hint of sickening dread pool in his stomach. “Riddle.”

“Yes,” he asked hesitantly, sounding as if he wasn’t sure whether he should add a ‘master’ to that considering what the man was capable of making him do. 

Instead of answering, Potter grabbed his hand and suddenly, without even a portal, they were in a completely black place, with no floors, no ceilings, no.. anything. Was this.. The void--room--that Potter had mentioned he could make? Why were they here?

“I want to apologize. I was.. Out of line, earlier.”

“...What?” Tom asked, completely taken aback. He’d been thinking maybe he’d been brought here for some sort of punishment for attacking the other Tom, not that his attacks had done any good. Or maybe for some other reason. But an apology?

“I never should have told you about your chance at freedom, especially knowing that you would have never won. I’m- I’m not trying to insult your powers, I am distinctly aware of just how powerful any and all Tom Riddles are, but.. We’ve been alive for thousands upon thousands of millennia. There was no chance for you to win. And.. I’m sorry for being unnecessarily cruel, earlier, trying to prove my point. You didn’t deserve that, so.. I’m sorry.” Tom nodded slowly.

“You were never planning to let me go free, were you?” It was phrased as a question, but it was said in a flat tone. 

“I don’t- I don’t like to meddle in other realms, much. Especially not between you and your Harry. Any version of you. So.. no, I wasn’t. We knew it was futile from the start, and yet.. I still offered. And.. I’m sorry for being so cruel. It was never my intention,” Harry paused, then tried to explain. “I’ve.. Tom and I.. because we’ve been alive so long.. I lose sight of what crosses the line between fun and actually hurtful. And I crossed that.”

“Is that what ‘red’ means?” Tom asked, his voice sounding rather lifeless.Knowing that he’d been fairly defeated was one thing. Knowing that he’d never had a chance...he was almost impressed by the ruthlessness required to choose to do such a thing but...when it was him experiencing it? It wasn’t so pleasant. 

“When my Tom says ‘red’, it means that I am to be quiet until I make an apology for what I believe I did wrong,” Harry muttered, “We.. developed it a while back, after.. My words ended up hurting somebody really badly. I.. do not expect you to forgive me, but I do know an apology is still required.” Tom nodded again slowly.

“Can we go back now?” he asked, his tone forcibly neutral. 

With one last glance, eyes even greener than his Harry’s, they were back right where they were.

“Where did you go?” asked Native Harry in confusion. “And if you did go somewhere, why did you come back so quickly?”

“Quickly, master?” Native Tom asked, still in that neutral tone. 

“Yeah, you’ve only been away for a couple of seconds. You were there one moment, then you were gone, and then you were back again.” Tom glanced at Other Harry who just shrugged and gestured for him to go on.

“We were talking, master.” Native Harry eyed him, not sure whether he wanted to know what they were talking about. Given how lifeless Tom’s eyes looked to him, he decided that whatever had been said, he’d be better off not knowing. Instead, he looked around at the dimension travellers.

“So, now what?”

“Now for.. My prize,” ImposTom eyes gleamed with excitement, a direct contrast to Native Tom’s.

“Yeah, yeah, here you go, you impatient baby,” Harry drawled, summoning the same glass of chocolate milk from earlier directly into his Tom’s hands.

“So you’re talking again?” asked Native Harry in exasperation. “What changed?”

“I fulfilled the requirements for the ritual,” OtHarry replied in a neutral voice.

.. Was he joking..?

“Oh, right, Tom,” Other Harry continued, perking up a bit. Both Toms looked over, but Harry’s attention was already on his Tom, leaning in closely with each other. “I found something you might like earlier.”

Other Tom sipped his chocolate milk, leaning in closer to see what it was. Harry was holding up a device that looked the same as Other Tom had earlier--the one he was talking to Siri on. He spit out his chocolate milk in surprise of whatever he saw. “Is- Is that a shiny Mimikyu??”

Harry nodded. “Yup!”

What in the world is a Mimikyu?

The next thing they knew, ImposTom was down on one knee, looking like he’s about to cry, holding one of Harry’s hands in both of his, chocolate milk floating beside him. “Marry me.”

Both Native Harry and Native Tom looked aghast at the idea. They shared a look of disgust together then, realising they were sharing a look, immediately broke eye contact and made a conspicuous step away from each other. 

“We’re already married, Tom. You took care of that about 42,000 years ago,” Harry deadpanned.

“Well, I had to, otherwise you wouldn’t have even noticed my affections,” Tom replied, then started with the same mocking tone from earlier when describing how stupid his husband was. “Sorry Tom, but if you tell them straight to their face that you love them and it flies over their head, then they’re too dumb for you, you say right after I said “I love you” to your face and don’t realize.”

“You’re...you’re married?” choked out Native Harry. “He’s your husband?!” And, Harry noted to himself, apparently his counterpart was the completely dense person who wouldn’t recognise a love confession when it hit him in the nose. 

Native Tom, on the other hand, simply face-palmed as his suspicions were confirmed. Merlin, he hoped this wasn’t a prediction of what might happen in his future. 

“I.. I told you that already, though?” Other Tom sounded genuinely confused.

“Uh, I think we would have noticed you saying ‘Harry Potter is my husband,” Native Harry told him, disbelief still in his voice. 

“But.. I told you he was my master, and that my husband was the Master of Death..? You.. did not get it?”

“You didn’t mention that they were the same person! How were we supposed to realise that you’d marry your master?!” Harry demanded furiously. 

“Uhh, bye!” Other Tom and Harry disappeared from where they’d been standing, leaving Native Tom and Harry.. Stranded in Mongolia..

“Hey, wait!-” Native Harry yelled, upon coming to that realization.

A portal opened beneath them and they found themselves back in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place. Feeling dazed, Harry slumped back into the same armchair he’d been in when Other Tom had first arrived. Tom felt an urge to return to the same position he’d been in too, kneeling in front of his master. 

A moment later, both of them were blinking at each other in confusion as the whole set of events from when Tom had dropped through the ceiling to their return to Grimmauld Place was wiped away. Not even Tom’s plate from the spaghetti incident remained.

Also, and there was no way they could have known this, but Mongolia’s land had been reshaped like nothing had ever happened.

“.. What the hell?” Harry muttered, then forgot what he was even confused about.