Just Tom

"Evans?"

Harry caught the twitch, the first sign of a reaction to what he had said thus far. Which, admittedly, was not much. He stared for a moment. Then nodded, glancing back to the spilled papers and photographs, fingertips tapping at his leg.

"Yeah. Evans. You don't—"

"There are a lot of Evans," Tom muttered irritably. Harry looked back to him. One side of Tom's mouth was pulled back. Disgusted. Then Tom reshifted up, shoulders going back a little further, chin going up the slightest at Harry. "If I were to change my name, it would not be to Evans."

Harry blinked, then fought a grin. That's right. He probably should have seen that reaction coming. Evans was a fairly common family name after all. Like Tom.

Tom bristled, dark brown eyes trained at Harry's mouth. "You can't kid me. Tell the truth."

"Er, a second."

Turning, Harry bent and picked up the papers. He set them onto the end of the bed as he went, specifically looking for one in particular. George had layered the birth certificate of Tom Riddle and Tom Evans together. With Hermione's suggestion, George had done so using the Elder Wand, making his work even more untraceable on the specific wizard's magic for the certificate. Certificates? In any case, George had explained and shown how to display the underlying proof, figuring it best Harry show and not tell. Finally spotting the birth certificate under the bed, Harry let out a noise of triumph, holding it up.

"Found it," he declared.

Without preamble or any asking, Tom snatched the certificate out of Harry's hand. Hastily gathering up the pile of photographs he'd made as he'd been down there, Harry scrambled up, eyes immediately going to Tom. The birth certificate was held pinched between the thumb and index fingers of both his hands.

Harry stepped closer, eyes flicking to the chains at Tom's wrists for a moment, took in the fact all the other papers had been piled up onto Tom's lap, then looked back up. Tom had a pursed frown on his face as he studied the certificate. Harry waited, watching.

Then Tom's dark brown eyes snapped back to Harry, every line in him taunt. Fierce. Demanding.

"Remove these at once."

"Remove…?"

Brow furrowing, Harry's confusion did not last long when Tom flicked his fingers up. Drawing attention to the chain bound around his wrist. The man sniffed, chin tilting up in superiority.

"There is clearly more to this birth certificate than meets the eye. If you," Tom stressed in a decided dislike. Then to Harry's bewilderment and startlement, turned into a polite tone, honeyed with charm. "Wish for I to see what lays beneath this façade, these must be removed for I to obtain proof on your…claims. Correct?"

Harry blinked. "Oh."

So that's what Tom had doing in all his looking at the certificate. He had actually taken the time Harry had given him to study it, to test the chains. Right in front of Harry. Harry stared at the man, eyes wide at realizing what had just happened. Sneaky. But brazen too.

Harry squirmed, apprehension unsettling his stomach.

Powerless. Tom was using what he could in logic and charm to sway Harry to remove those chains. To have his own magic bound, unable to use to protect or defend himself. Clearly angling to use Harry to correct the situation after examining and attempting to get around the chains and getting them off himself.

And it likely had not gone unnoticed from Tom about the lack of windows.

Confined in this sectioned off area? Recognizable as the Hogwarts hospital wing? Without access to his own magic?

Yeah. This wasn't going to go well. Harry knew it coming in. Knew it further at seeing those chains.

"Right," Harry said slowly. Tom's eyes narrowed. The polite innocence flitted from Tom's face transforming into a far more dangerous and calculating gaze. Harry had to be careful handling this.

Or do as George cheerfully stated worked best to throw off most Slytherins in his history of dealing in those amped up from quidditch or a prank or in being Edgar Weasley. Be Gryffindor. Knock them off balance.

"Professor Dumbledore is behind this," Tom snarled. "Isn't he?"

That took Harry off balance as he worked through that, jarring back in surprise at the sudden ferocity.

"Dumbledore? He's not…" Harry trailed off, remembering. Tom without Voldemort was probably, likely, sixteen years old and still an attending Hogwarts student. With Dumbledore teaching transfiguration. Not a headmaster or gone. "Oh, right. Your memory is… The headmaster passed away a year ago."

And in return, that took Tom off balance. His ready to fight stance flitted away, looking as though someone had just beamed a bludger at his head. Stunned.

"He's…gone? Passed away," Tom murmured to himself. "Headmaster?"

Tom took a long look to his hands, curling and uncurling his long pale fingers. Several beats past as he did so. Then he laid them flat before him. Harry strained his ears, trying to catch each word Tom spoke. "Time has gone. But how long… Professor Dumbledore has…passed away?"

Harry's eyebrows rose at Tom. The idea and news of Dumbledore's passing did not appear to be causing any sort of joy. Or glee, delight, pleasure. Nor any relief or liberation to the one professor who never liked him as much as any of the other professors, the one professor who never fully trusted him. The one wizard Voldemort, Tom, feared. And yet Tom, from what Harry could see, was not happy about this startling news.

Tom appeared to be…disconcerted? He looked perturbed and unsettled and not the least bit glad about finding out Dumbledore was gone.

"I wake here and he's just…gone?"

Disbelief? At a loss?

Harry wasn't given much time to wonder that through. For Tom gave a quick jerk of his head, straightening once more. And spoke loud enough for Harry to hear clearly, directing his words to him. "Who is in charge here? Is it you?"

Dark brown eyes regarded Harry in fresh interest. Harry shuffled his feet, feeling uneasy at the up and down look, being examined openly. And, not quite disregarded?

Tom didn't seem to know what to ultimately make of Harry. His grip on the birth certificate was firm, legs adjusted underneath the white bedsheet to make a move if need be, his shoulders into that pulled back and ready position which never really seemed to leave Tom. Almost like it was a defining part of him, those shoulders.

"Me? I'm just Harry." At the spark and focus in Tom's eye, Harry licked at his lips and expanded, fully introducing his name. "I'm Harry Potter."

Tom's focus narrowed. Harry fidgeted. Nervously wondering about the point Hermione brought up at some point of their planning of if it really was the caretakers treating Lockhart like Lockhart to have the man wanting to give out autographs. Or if Lockhart remembered a little. If Voldemort could remember enough. As Tom.

"You are not 'just Harry'," Tom declared. "You are the person here. With papers and photographs at the ready. No calling out the door for another to enter, to check on me after waking all this time."

Tom's face darkened.

"My memories stolen."

The barest pause and then Tom's voice gnashed out again.

"My magic bound."

And continued on, words rushing and building up.

"And no one has interrupted. To check or to take over as the clear person in charge. It is only you. And so I reiterate, tell me the truth," Tom commanded. "Who are you, Harry Potter?"

Harry leaned back. His name had struck…no chord? Rang no bell in Tom's head?

"I…I'm Harry Potter," he responded simply. Dumbly. It was one thing to think, be fairly sure and positive about Voldemort being gone from Tom. But to see it so completely? Harry had no words for it. Therefore, the only connection, was the one he…and Ron and Hermione and George had…

Harry's voice trembled, but pressed onward in further introduction of himself.

"Son of James and Lily Potter. Who was Lily Evans. Daughter of Tom and Ivy Evans."

Tom's eyes flickered.

"Tom Evans?"

Harry nodded.

"Tom Evans?" He repeated, gesturing his hand up the slightest. The one still holding the birth certificate pinched between index and thumb. His eyes didn't move at all. They vacantly stared more through than at Harry in sheer incomprehension of putting things together.

Harry nodded again. Letting Tom come to the conclusion rather than giving him the information. Work for it, figure it out, rather than everything being explained away by someone. Ron's idea with that. Don't make it too easy, he's a suspicious Slytherin after all.

"You're…you're my grandson?"

Wonder, new interest as Tom took in the sight of Harry, studying Harry all over again.

Then the man drew back, dark brown eyes widening in alarm.

"Joint name… I married and had a kid?" he asked in shock and panic, his tenor smooth voice Harry had begun getting used to as Tom's, screeching up and cracking into Voldemort's higher pitched voice. Cracking. Like a teenager in puberty.

Teenager. Sixteen. Not close to any as a friend, much less…

Harry's mouth quirked up, feeling impish.

"Two kids," he corrected.

And relished the look of sheer staggering dumbfounded combination of flummoxed and horrified on Tom's face.