Just Tom

Bless the map.

And timing.

Because by the time Harry took a moment to breathe and think of it, Tom may have not shown on the map. He didn't show near the first checked entrance. Nor any of the other passageways out of the castle Professor McGonagall said she was checking when her and Harry crossed paths.

His eyes had gone to the seventh floor, thinking it had connected over to Hog's Head for Neville, but no Tom there.

Instead, Harry got the quickest glimpse of Tom's name, then raced off as fast as he could.

Luck worked out for Harry. By the time Harry reached a very specific bathroom, chest heaving and gripping onto the door as he spun inside, Tom was still there. Head swiveling, Harry shoved the map back into his pocket, staring.

Both occupants from the bathroom turned from each other to face Harry. Both. Still breathing harshly, Harry goggled, surprised at the pair in front of him. Tom halted his escape—

Wait. Harry paused, stuck by a thought. Was there a way out of the castle through this particular bathroom?

—halted to speak with Myrtle?

Harry's eyes took in the bathroom still in massive disarray from the battle. It hadn't been in the greatest shape before it either, but there had not been broken down stall doors or scorch marks the last time Harry had been in it. His eyes lingered on a specific spot. Then rested firmly onto Tom, unwilling to allow him to leave his sight.

Tom smoothed any startlement or irritation from his face, feet sliding to face Harry straight on, holly wand hovering at his side. Myrtle on the other hand, smiled, clearly pleased to find Harry there.

"Hello Harry. You came to visit me. It's been a while."

Harry didn't turn from Tom, quickly glancing over to where she floated. "Erm, yes, hello Myrtle. I was looking for—"

"I was telling Tom all about my death," Myrtle told Harry. Or he heard her say it at him as most of his focus was on Tom. Tom whose feet were firmly on the ground. "You know, he asked me. By name. Calling me Miss Warren, which is so nice to hear as my name is pretty, no need for the moaning. Oooh."

She turned, flying right up into Tom's personal space, face piqued as she posed her question. Taken aback at Myrtle suddenly too close for his comfort, Tom slid a foot back. Away from Myrtle and away from the point of interest. "You knew me before my dreadful death, didn't you?"

As Tom was not going anywhere at the moment, Harry relaxed, taking the chance to gain his breath back. And then sucked in air too quickly, bursting into a coughing fit. Tom's dark brown eyes flicked up and down Harry, then answered Myrtle, tone resigned.

"Yes, I did."

Interest flared onto Myrtle's face and she circled tightly around him, eyes taking in every detail of him behind her glasses, studying. "Tom, Tom, Tom," she mused. "Can't be either Tom from Ravenclaw. Let me see, there was little Tom Wright in Hufflepuff. Nice boy, I could see him saying miss, but he had blue eyes. Tommy Walker from Gryffindor had brown eyes, but was anything but polite to me."

Her eyes went to Harry. "Oooh, Olive Hornby and him together were horrid. Until after my death and I discovered she had the biggest crush on him and well…"

And with a disconcerting giggle about it, she turned her attention back to Tom. Who had a noticeable twitch beginning to show by his eye. Harry was more concerned about Myrtle's death and the timing. Of it falling close to Tom's ending and Voldemort's beginning. Unlike other people Tom had attended with at Hogwarts, Myrtle had not changed in appearance and Harry worried if it could mean memories cropping up.

And if Myrtle stumbled onto the correct Tom…

Panicked, Harry frantically searched his memory, trying to remember if he or Ron or Hermione had said anything to Myrtle. If anyone had said who the boy speaking in the bathroom had been. Much less of him being the reason for her death.

"Thomas Thompson the Third…no. I don't think even magic could get rid of that birthmark on his neck. If he even wanted it gone as he was so proud about the thing." Myrtle switched directions, circling Tom the other way. The man's eye was definitely twitching at this point. Harry kept his eyes on Tom, knowing jumping right through Myrtle was a possible option. "You must be from a different year. Tom Taylor was the year under me and I always did hope he would go bald in his old age."

Wait.

That jerked at Harry's attention.

You must be from a different year?

Myrtle had listed—what had it been?—five Toms before that. There had been five Toms in her year? Five? At least five.

How many Toms were there back then?

And to settle the unsettling worry and panic in his head, while also stunned at the fact he didn't know if Myrtle had been told, Harry interrupted.

"My grandpa," he spewed out in a hurry. "This is my grandfather, Grandpa Tom."

Myrtle's face brightened. "This is your grandfather?"

She peers closely at Tom and then to Harry himself, looking for similarities between the two.

Harry was busy keeping most of his attention on Tom though. Tom definitely appeared flabbergasted as he stared at Harry. Harry noticed Tom's stance has lost some of the tightness from when Harry whirled into the bathroom. Good. Whatever prompted Tom's fleeing of the hospital wing was less right now. Maybe. It was at least lessened and Tom had not used Harry's wand. Likely couldn't then with the single link of chains around his wrists.

It's not like Tom was jumping either.

Yet.

That was so grating at Harry's nerves. Being on guard. Tensed and ready, not able to tear his eyes away in case there was a way out of Hogwarts that way.

"I am not a grandfather, much less a father," Tom stated. His words lacked precise crispness and Harry thought Tom seemed unnerved. About what? A long finger tapped along the wand held loosely in his grip. "My memories—"

"Close."

Dark brown eyes widened, ripping themselves off of Harry and over to the sinks. Tom's mouth hung open. And he stuttered. Cursed. "You-you! How did you, know, where! Why—"

"It was bothering me," Harry answered defensively. In English. Unlike Tom's unflattering spattering of parseltongue. "And I've known about that passageway and how to open it since my second year."

Up above them, Myrtle made some comment about hearing the family resemblance.

"It's true. He and that other boy Ron disappeared down it to rescue Ginny. Very dangerous. There was a basilisk involved and everything." Mrytle sighed, an odd little smile on her face. "It was such a shame. My offer to share my toilet remains. You are still very welcome to it, Harry."

"Thanks Myrtle."

"Although it is very delightful the creature that brought about my dreadful death is dead itself."

She mimicked the thrust of a sword, gleeful.

A strangled noise came from Tom as his head spun back from the closed up sinks to stare wide eyed at Harry. Harry attempted a shrug and uncertain twitch of a smile, keeping his sights on Tom. How close were the memories?

They had thought the memories would go back to when there was no thought of Voldemort, which would have been before the attacks. Yet Tom clearly showed knowledge of the chamber. But what of the rest? Of the basilisk, any attacks on students, possibility of sending the snake after certain people... There had always been a question of where Tom's memories ended, but why had Harry or the others not thought about Myrtle?

Myrtle clasped her hands together, looking at Harry brightly as she continued. "You know I do enjoy going down from time to time to taunt a—"

"You slayed… At thirteen?"

Harry blinked at Tom. "Er, yes? Well, twelve, actually."

The man was breathing funny. It was concerning and as though he could not properly breathe. Harry moved forward. "Tom? Are you—"

"You chose Gryffindor," Tom leveled at him. Still breathing oddly, dark brown eyes staring straight at Harry and stopping Harry in his tracks. Tom seemed…distraught?

"Going off, rescuing a girl, slaying a… You slayed a basilisk! The basilisk! A snake of which you…" Tom's chest moved visibly up and down, gulping, trying to get his breath back to speak. "Twelve! Only two years in that house and… You chose Gryffindor!"

Harry frowned. Tom was repeating. But as Harry opened his mouth, Tom moved.

Furiously, his hand flew up, pointing off to the side, his voice rising and echoing in the bathroom. "You chose Gryffindor?"

Harry's neck twisted, head turning automatically to where Tom's finger was jabbing. What was… Oh. The sinks. The closed sinks. Due to Harry hissing 'close' over to them.

"Well, that's just rude," Myrtle broke in sourly. Her head moved from the sinks and over to them. "I can't understand a thing you two are saying."

Tom's arm shook angrily. "You chose Gryffindor!"

The breath caught in Harry's throat. Tom was so indignant about it. Harry fought, pursing his lips tightly shut, trying desperately to not laugh.

Tom stormed forward, face thunderous. Harry stiffened as Tom's hand snaked out to grab his hand. Catching the motion from the side, Harry ducked his head down and made to pull his hand away. The holly wand went down. And slapped right into Harry's open palm.

What?

Harry blinked at his hand, fingers curling around his holly wand.

"Here," Tom said in disgust. "It's useless to me except to warm my hand."

With that, he stalked past Harry and out the bathroom. Mind catching up with him, Harry spun, desperate to keep Tom in his sights. But luck, amazingly, stuck and stayed. For Tom had paused at the door.

"Chose Gryffindor," he griped once more. Tom turned his head, looking back at Harry over his shoulder, a firm and decisiveness in his gleaming eyes. Harry sucked in a breath at the look on Tom.

"Well? Coming along, Harry?"

And then Tom strolled off.

Harry hurried after, stunned at Tom's easy pace for him to catch up, and growing utterly bewildered as Tom continued that easy pace onwards. And that Tom was heading back to the hospital wing. What changed? What had been the point of that escape? Was it more about his wand, getting a wand to test the limits of the chains?

The holly wand was warm in Harry's hold. Not from body heat. But warmth feeling the same as… As the first time he had held it in Ollivanders. There had been some reaction then to Tom's attempts of using it then.

Had it been more about getting out on a schedule not around Harry sneaking him out, relying on Harry for those bouts of freedom from the hospital wing? No, that didn't sit right. Except Mrs. Weasley had just gotten Tom more freedoms to his stay inside the hospital wing. Maybe it was something to do with freedoms after all. Or something related to her visit.

Had it been to check on the basilisk? To disappear to a place no one but Tom, as far as Tom had known before, knew about?

Harry was still wondering if there was a way out of Hogwarts that way. It'd been discussed before by him, Ron, and Hermione. On habits of a basilisk. Hibernation possibilities and choice food options. Because it can't have been only students. Students it never ate. Discussed. They'd never gone looking.

Ignoring, for the most part, Madam Pomfrey's fussing and fury at him, Tom sat primly on the edge of the bed. And motioned for Harry to sit on the chair. Baffled, Harry closed the door behind him, and sat.

A vague sense of foreboding washed over Harry. And the thought drifted to the front of his mind. Somehow, he was sure, his visits and relationship with Tom were about to take an interesting turn.