He was a wizard.
What he'd been doing, was magic.
That revelation itself was magical, for Tom at least.
And so he'd gone to Diagon Alley, with the help of Tom the bartender.
With a list in hand, and a pouch of money from the school in the other, he set out to explore. There were various things that caught his eyes; books, cauldrons, potions, robes, wands, pets... well, not pets. They were something quite common in the muggle world. But something was pulling him to the shop. 'I'll just browse and then get my wand,' Tom thought to himself.
Once inside, he was awed by the number of different animals inside. Owls, kneazles, snakes, frogs, pygmypuffs... He felt as if he had just entered another world entirely. The snakes hissed to themselves, grumbling at how they just knew that he wouldn't buy them. "Just like all other magical two-leggers," one of them hissed irately, but resignedly. "No-one wants us..."
"I'm sorry, but I can't buy you--any of you," Tom apologized sadly. "I don't have any money to even buy the cheapest owl here."
"A speaker?" a snake asked, curious.
"I guess I am," Tom nodded.
"It's rare to see a speaker these days! Back then, they flourished and learned from each other. Then this ancient two-legger cursed all speaker-descent to a cursed, sad life, by not letting them meet their intended mates... Speakers eventually dwindled in numbers, and now we don't have any two-legger communicants to communicate with! And the fat two-leggers would always tell the other two-leggers that all speakers are bad because of their cursed lives, and so most were hunted down and killed, or shunned from society..."
The snakes sounded so sad as they shared with him the history of 'speakers'. He was intrigued, but he couldn't spend any more time with the interesting snakes anymore--the shopkeeper was looking at him strangely, a look that made him want to run. He quickly made his way out of the shop--but his way was blocked.
A fluffy owl, completely black with oddly, eerily intelligent emerald eyes was perched on the door handle. Its' intelligent eyes seemed to be regarding him coolly, judging him. When he reached out to grab the owl to move it elsewhere, said owl hooted and took flight.
Opening the door, he made his way outside, to go buy the last item he needed--a wand. Apparently, it was vital that he obtain a wand since wizarding kind couldn't perform magic without them. Tom rolled his eyes, pathetic. Even he could perform magic without a wand, or even words! But he decided that while not having a wand was alright, it'd prove to be advantageous if he were to have a wand.
The school needs for the children to have a wand, after all.
After an hour or so in Ollivander's, Tom let out a sigh of relief. He had a few sickles left over from his shopping, but he'd rather save it in case he'd need it later.
"Hey! Come back here!" he heard someone shout. He turned to look in the direction of the voice, and found the Menagerie's shopkeeper running--towards him. His first instinct was to run, until he realized that his eyes weren't on him, but on a bird... a familiar-looking owl...
The black owl with oddly intelligent green eyes landed on his shoulder, purring as it rubbed its' head onto Tom's cheek. It seemed to like him enough, and he reached out a hand to scratch its head.
"You bloody- you're a bloody handful for an owl aren't ya?" the shopkeeper said angrily. The black owl just hooted as it kept rubbing its' head on Tom's cheek, nipping his immaculately combed hair as if trying to groom him once in a while. "What? So you like this... boy? You never wanted to have an owner before, so why change now?"
Hoot!
The owl glared and pecked the shopkeeper's finger, which was about to grab her, rather harshly until it bled.
"Oh, fine, you bloody owl!" he shouted. "You! Pay for the owl!"
Hoot!
Another peck, another bleeding wound.
"Oh, fine! You don't want to be sold! Fine! But he needs to pay for your food and cage--especially your cage! OW!"
Hoot!
"Bloody fine!" he huffed. "Boy, if you want some owl treats, you can buy some, one sickle a box! It'll keep him in line, most of the time," he motioned the indignant-looking owl.
Hoot!
Tom just looked dumbfounded, but then he nodded. "Alright..." he said nervously. "May I buy one?"
"Sure, come and I'll give you the box, for a sickle," he sighed, defeated. "He was supposed to be a high-quality breed, ya know?" he started as they walked back to the shop. "A million galleons for his beauty alone, not to mention his rare species... He's even picky about his owl treats! Liking the fish-flavour one. It's rare, ya know? Owls usually like mice-flavoured ones... but he likes fish-flavour, he does! Here, a box for a sickle."
Hoot!
"Well, since the only one to actually like the fish one, you can have another two boxes. Really, he'll be a great burden off my back too, doesn't like no one, no one at all! Except you, it seems," he frowned. "Ya din't happen to place an enchantment on him, did ya? Nah, ya seem to be a firstie, so ya can't know about those... Whatever. I've seen ya talking to them snakes. Maybe yer soulmate's an owl?" he chuckled. "Cursed life that is, I tell ya!"
"Uhm, thank you," he nodded, not really understanding anything the shopkeeper was saying.
"Anytime ya come 'ere for any more of them fish-flavour treats, ya come 'ere an' I'll give ya two extra boxes for a sickle, ya hear!"
Hoot!
The owl seemed happy enough, Tom decided. When he left the store, the owl immediately flew away. He looked dumbfounded at the owl's actions and felt just a little bit betrayed. He'd felt a little bit sad on his way to the Orphanage, but once he arrived at his room, he found the owl, grooming himself, giving him a hoot as if he was pouting at his lateness.
Tom chuckled.
Now, because of the shopkeeper, he'd started to even think of the owl as a male human.
"What should I call you, boy?" he asked, and the owl gave him a hoot. "You look strong, so... how about Harry? I liked that name since I saw a book of greek-related names. It means grace..."
Hoot!
The owl seemed to preen at his subtle praise. Tom smiled a true smile before he gave him an owl treat.
"I'll keep you safe, Harry, from the other kids. I'll do my best to do it!"
Hoot!
Since then, Harry had followed him everywhere--and by that, he meant everywhere. Even the bathroom, despite Tom's attempts to keep him in the Owlery, or at least outside of the bathroom, but he'd never budge. When his dorm mates teased him about it, they were quickly silenced by Harry's relentless pecking.
As months passed, Tom had risen, grown out of his 'mudblood' title, to Slytherin Heir, all thanks to his Parseltongue abilities. All through his rigorous study and research, Harry had been by his side, a constant company, and a guardian. Even in class, the teachers didn't seem to mind the owl much. Except for Dumbledore, of course.
The next time Tom visited the Menagerie, he had just a little bit more money on him, since he'd been saving up cash since first year. He was almost a fourth year now, and the shopkeeper immediately recognized him.
"You, boy! That owl's not givin' ya any trouble, eh?" he observed. He saw how comfortable Tom seemed to be, walking around with a beautiful owl perched on his shoulder.
"Ah, no he isn't," Tom chuckled, and the shopkeeper saw that he'd grown out of his 'firstie' personality and into someone fit to be a pureblood.
"I see ya discovered yer ancestry?"
"The Parseltongue was a dead giveaway," Tom smiled warmly. "Thank you, sir, for giving me Harry."
"Ah, ya named 'im Harry, eh? Strong name fer a fierce owl..."
"I'd intended at first for Harry to mean 'grace' from the greek word Haris..."
"It's got them nice ring to it, ya know," the shopkeeper sighed. "Ah, yer here for the owl treats? Sorry, mate, the fish-flavoured ones were sold out and we haven't got our usual restock yet..."
Hoot!
"I know yer angry with me, boy, but ya can't just demand something that's just not there... yet," he frowned. "And besides, someone had thought it a funny idea to make a treacle tart-flavoured owl treat! And also caramel, and chocolate... None o' the owls here seem to like it..."
"Chocolate?" Tom asked, amused. "Harry here seems to love nicking my chocolate frogs," he rolled his eyes.
"Ah, then maybe ya wan' some o' them?" the shopkeeper asked hopefully. "For only a sickle, ya'd get all three flavours!"
"Alright, alright," Tom said when Harry started to hoot excitedly. "We'll take them," he said, handing over a sickle.
"That's the spirit!" the man laughed jovially. "Yer a funny owl, ya are!"
Harry looked indignant but raised his beak as if to lift his nose. He looked funnily like Abraxas like that, and Tom giggled.
"Ya look like a Malfoy, boy!" the shopkeeper guffawed. "Great having business with ya boys!" he waved at the two with a huge smile on his face.
"You too, sir," Tom bowed and walked away. When they were in their room, Tom took a bit of the caramel-flavoured treat, and he watched as Harry happily ate them, giving him a please hoot. The same reaction came from feeding him the other two treats, and he was relieved that Harry seemed to love the treats he'd bought for him. Harry affectionately nipped at him before he settled on Tom's bed's headboard.
"Good night, Harry."
Hoot.
"Ah, Thomas my boy!" Dumbledore said rather jovially. They were in the transfigurations classroom, the last class of the day. Dumbledore had asked him to stay behind, and now they were all alone. "I see that even after seven years, you still haven't gotten your owl to stay in the Owlery?"
"No, professor," Tom said coldly, feeling Harry settle on his shoulder with a soft hoot, rubbing him comfortingly as he faced the transfigurations professor. "I'd also rather Harry stay with me--he's a nice company to be with." He'd been there with him every step of the way--when he killed his dad, when he made his first and second horcrux, the diary and the Gaunt ring, his heirloom.
Harry had been the sole witness to his impurity, had been the only thing that had kept him grounded through all these years of Dumbledore's antagonizing his life. Harry was the only that had been with him since the start, throughout his desperate research on his ancestry, those days when he was ill, he was the only one Tom would definitely call his friend.
"Ah, but you see, you need to have a modicum of control over your... pet," Dumbledore said in a disagreeing tone.
"Harry is not my pet, professor," he admitted, and Harry hooted in an affectional way. "Just as much as you think I'm a... 'good' person."
"Ah..." Dumbledore smiled coldly. "But if you can't keep your... owl in the Owlery, where owls belong, then I'll have to do something about that, now don't I?"
When Dumbledore stood, he'd cast a non-verbal body-bind spell, and he approached both owl and teen.
"You can't do that! That's animal cruelty!" Tom said angrily. "There are rules, laws, on animal abuse, just as much as there are on child abuse!"
"But you see," Dumbledore's smile was positively evil, "I am the defeater of Grindelwald... They'd make... exceptions to anything and everything I do..."
"You can't--" Tom hid the choke as a lump formed in his throat, "--do that!"
"Yes. I. Can!"
Hoot!
Harry flew with a grace that could never be rivaled by anyone and anything, and bit Dumbledore's ring finger, hard enough to sever it from his hand.
"Augh!" he shouted in surprise, his blue eyes dark with anger when he saw the owl clutch the finger in his talons. Another swipe had him severing his other ring finger, and now Dumbledore had none. But the last dive had given Dumbledore the chance to cast a spell to the blasted owl--an incendio--and Tom screamed as he watched his beloved friend die in flames.
He was squawking in pain, his wings flapping frantically, until with one last look with eerily intelligent green eyes towards Tom's reddening dark ones, he hooted his final hoot, and those sharp eyes became dull. Tom watched in shock at the spot where Harry's charred remains were, and he screamed.