Choices
All things considered, Harry's life was extraordinarily ordinary. He attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from autumn to spring, playing in the Slytherin Quidditch team as the Seeker, involved with the Dueling Club. During the summer holidays, he attended Quidditch matches with his father and spent every other weekend with his mother and his half-siblings. He went to the occasional dueling tournament and broom race. His godfather showered him with gifts and affection and trips to foreign places. He wrote to his friends during the summer and, during the school year, spent large sums of his time with them.
The oddest thing that could be dug up about Harry had to be him fancying boys more than he fancied girls. He was sure there was all sorts of speculation on that. His mother leaving him and his father at such a young age damaging some part of him that kept him from trusting witches enough to love them, maybe he was making a fetish out of some horrible event when he was a child. As Rita Skeeter brought up whenever Harry's father had to be mentioned, James Potter raised his son in such an isolated place in such an isolated way. "How could a boy turn out with only his father's influence?"
It wasn't all that odd, though. There were plenty of wizards who fancied other wizards. It existed in the muggle world, too. Not common enough to be considered uncommon, but it was still there.
Harry did try a few times to like a girl. He dated Daphne Greengrass, tried to date Cho Chang, spent a week snogging with Pansy Parkinson before he decided he just couldn't do it. There was always something missing in the interactions that kept them from being truly enjoyable. Something their soft bodies lacked and plump lips couldn't provide. He stopped trying to date girls by the end of his fifth year.
So, really, the totally normal and average Harry Potter had one thing that wasn't normal and average and it wasn't something society rejected or anything like that. It was basically, "Whatever." Harry didn't get why so many people had the urge to be unique and amazing, no one was the same but no one was so different from everybody else that they were better or worse.
The most troubling thing in Harry's life wasn't the forced visits to his mother and her family, or even his dad's stash of liquor and firewhiskey-smelling coffee in the morning. All of those things were manageable or didn't really effect him. He could deal with his mother and his stepfather and his half-siblings for three days every other week. He could make sure his dad didn't drink too much and, if he did, make sure his dad got into bed and didn't fall asleep in the drawing room chair. So those things were manageable. The most troublesome thing, was Harry's pickiness about who he liked.
Girls were obviously out the window, but when he tried liking them they were easy to pick which ones he wanted. With boys, the ones he innately liked, it was for some reason harder. Hard to choose which one he'd actually like to snog. He kept his interactions with them hidden away in small moments, but he learned quick what he liked and didn't like. It came down to a grand total of things. Some things could be ignored if they had this or that.
Snog didn't sound right with what he liked. Neither did kissing or making out. It was on a thin line of sex, preferably with him pinned against something or trapped in some corner, with someone who wouldn't let him go even if he wanted to be let go. He didn't care if who he was with was short or chubby or fat or lanky or somewhere in the zone of "How is he this muscular at seventeen?", they just had to have that level of strength that hurt when they gripped him and the level of confidence where they wouldn't hesitate to. Someone who had a nice laugh and pretty eyes. A deep voice made him melt and the right type of smirk turned him into soft clay.
Harry's closest friend, Draco Malfoy, tried to help him. He tended to fail, though.
"If I liked wizards I'd want him!" Draco defended, huffing and folding his arms across his chest. "What don't you like about him?"
"For one, he's dating Cho Chang." Harry said. "Second, he's too soft. He hugs her in the hallways and just follows her around."
"That's stupid reasoning." Draco said. "He dated some boy once. So obviously he's uncertain or likes both witches and wizards."
"I'd be a cunt if I stole someone's boyfriend." Harry said, shaking his head. "And, again, soft."
"Soft." Draco repeated. He scratched his chin. "Okay what about Weasley? I don't see him dating anyone and he's a total oaf."
"He's my friend. Gross." Harry dismissed immediately.
Harry had decided it'd be years before he met a wizard he really liked.
Choices
The summer after Harry's sixth year landed him at his mother's for a month. His dad had gotten injured in the job, had to stay at St. Mungo's until they deemed him capable of taking care of himself. He was going to turn 17 in July, but that didn't matter. And Harry should've gone straight to his godfather, but for some stupid reason his dad thought he should spend some time with his "mum". He hadn't been with her for longer than a week since he was six, when she left his dad to marry The Greasy Git/Severus Snape.
Harry had three half-siblings; Rosemary, Scilla, and Dahlia. Rosemary was born in 1988, Scilla in 1990, and Dahlia in 1992. By the time any of them entered Hogwarts, he'd be long-gone, thank Merlin. They were nice, though, and not completely awful. They were always filled with questions and couldn't understand why he wasn't always with them, complained whenever he left, and loved him even though he rarely saw them.
"We can do all sorts of things together!" His mother proclaimed. "Isn't that right Severus?" She turned to her husband.
Severus Snape raised his brow, turned his eyes to Harry, then back to his wife. "Yes." He said. She beamed.
Harry didn't really like The Greasy Git. It wasn't his fault his mother had left his dad, so he didn't not like him for that. No, he hated him because The Greasy Git would pretend to be nice in front of his mother, but the moment she was gone, he'd become the prick Harry knew he was. He didn't hate the man, though. There wasn't enough for him to hate him. Harry doubted, if he was married to someone he loved, he'd like their kid from a previous marriage to someone who had them before he did, living proof that he didn't have them first. So he didn't hate him, but he certainly didn't like him.
The best thing had happened during that month. Harry never could've predicted it. The month he lived with his mother, he met Tom Riddle.
Severus ran a potions shop in Knockturn Alley and often filled orders for Tom Riddle, who was apparently a very busy man and couldn't be bothered to make something as simple as a Pepper-Up Potion. Harry didn't know all the details, only that Severus pretty much worked for the wizard.
Despite Tom Riddle's youthful appearance- he barely looked thirty- he was decades older than Severus, many more than Harry. Born sometime in the 1920's, according to his mother. Harry didn't know how he looked so young. It wasn't as though he didn't age, but he wasn't filled with wrinkles someone his age should be and didn't have a single grey hair. He walked like the air was carrying him and was so absolutely beautiful Harry couldn't believe he was just another wizard.
Harry was there during one of his visits, about a week into his stay. He had been roped into helping his mother clean the dishes after breakfast. His half-sisters had rushed out to be kept from being forced to help, too. He was drying a plate when Severus walked into the kitchen with Tom Riddle trailing after him, tall and handsome and attention-dragging like something out of those romance novels Hermione tried to pretend she didn't read.
"This is my stepson, Harry." Severus introduced him shortly after Lily said hello.
"Tom Riddle." The wizard introduced himself, tilting his head slightly forward.
Harry's throat had become dry and he almost forgot to say something. "Um, hi." He managed to say. And Tom Riddle barely even reacted, lips just twitched slightly.
"Eloquent, isn't he?" Riddle commented.
"Very." Severus drily said.
Harry blushed and he quickly returned to drying dishes.
When they left, Harry wondered if he'd ever see the wizard again and wondered if it'd ever even matter.
He pretended he didn't see his mother's knowing gleam when she told him to go find his (half) sisters, telling him to gather them up. They were going to go to Diagon Alley for some quick shopping.
To Harry's surprise, he did see Tom Riddle again. Frequently, actually. He didn't know why he'd never seen him before, until he realized he never came on the weekends and only every other Monday and plenty during the week. Basically, the days Harry was never around. His half-sisters were obviously very used to him, made up a radius around him and never crossed into it. When he asked why, they told him he was scary, couldn't he tell? Harry could see why they thought the wizard was scary, but he was too distracted by the wizard's whole 'handsome' thing to really care about that.
Tom Riddle did have an aura that screamed he'd stab you and laugh while you bled on the floor. If he was being completely honest with himself, he doubted he'd care much he the wizard stabbed him, laughed, and left him to bleed to death.
Harry saw Tom Riddle a lot, but they were never in the same room. They never talked more than a sentence to each other, during the dinners when the older wizard stayed. He mostly talked to his mother and to the Greasy Git. Harry felt honored whenever he was given even a word then disgusted with himself shortly after. Though who couldn't get a crush on Tom Riddle, Harry didn't want to develop a crush then wallow in self-pity after he finished his stay with his mother when his dad got out of St. Mungo's.
The last week he was with his mother, and the last time he'd see Tom Riddle during that visit though he didn't know that then, Harry was left alone in the kitchen with him when Severus left to fetch that day's batch of potions. His half-sisters were outside and his mother was watching them. They were alone. Harry almost didn't realize it, fidgeting with that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet the moment Tom came in.
"Hello, Harry."
He yelped. Just a little bit. "Hi." He said after yelping, and it was a squeak, and Harry briefly wondered if he was turning into a rodent.
Tom Riddle walked directly behind him and loomed, staring down at the newspaper. "I can't say I enjoy the Daily Prophet. The writers are mediocre, but everyone gets their information from the thing and I don't like being behind." He said.
"I, uh," Harry folded the bottom left corner of the paper. "I guess."
He felt a hand creep over his shoulder. "Tell me, Harry, do I make you nervous?"
"No!" Harry was squeaking again. "W-why do you think I'm nervous?"
Riddle chuckled. It was a deep thing and, yup, Harry was going to cry when he returned with his father and couldn't see, hear, this wizard anymore. "Just a guess." The hand moved from his shoulder around to the front of his neck, forming a loose grip around it. Harry felt fingers press against that spot that took away his ability to breathe. "I have to admit, despite all the admirers I've had in my life, no one's reacted like you."
Suddenly, before Harry could try to respond, the hand left his throat and Harry was shakily breathing again. His face was red and he was so hard it hurt. Tom was gone from behind him, standing five feet of way.
Severus entered the kitchen. He spared a short glance at Harry before he handed over a box rattling with vials. "As you requested." He said.
"Thank you, Severus." Tom smiled, his eyes gleamed and turned to Harry just for a second. Harry could swear the blue had shimmered with red.
His stay at his mother's ended. Harry's father was out of St. Mungo's. He had to take a Pain-Relieving Potion every morning, had to wait another week before he could return to working as an Auror, but could watch Harry again.
"How was your stay?" His dad asked.
"It was okay." Harry said. He wished he hesitated, but he couldn't help it, he had to ask. "Do you know Tom Riddle?"
"That guy?" His dad nodded. "Real rich, real powerful, everyone at the Ministry knows about him. I met him once a few years ago. He was a real high official for years and he keeps on popping up for nominees to become Minister of Magic."
"He came by their place a lot. The Greasy Git makes potions for him." Harry said.
"Makes sense." His dad said, didn't wince at the mention. "Why you ask about him?"
"Just curious." Harry said.
"Uh huh." His dad said, smiling. "Sirius had a crush on a wizard professor back during our Hogwarts years-"
"Dad!" Harry shrieked. "Please!"
His father laughed, raising up his hands. "Okay, okay! I'm just saying, is all!"
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"He shagged him." His dad added.
"Gross!" Harry hissed. "Merlin, dad! I don't want to think of Sirius doing, doing, THAT!"
His dad didn't stop laughing, long after Harry left the room in a fury.
Choices
Harry had thought he wouldn't see Tom Riddle again. Or, not for a very long time.
He drowned himself in research. He learned Tom Riddle had worked in the Ministry of Magic from 1960 to 1977, a Daily Prophet article revealed he had spent ten years studying abroad and was hired by the Ministry to work in the then-existing Office of Muggle Handling. The article had been about him taking over as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were many more articles about him. His promotions, his charitable actions, what he backed and what he didn't. He read through books and realized that Tom Riddle was there, in the background, to a lot of different things. Reading between the lines, Harry realized it was thanks to Tom Marvolo Riddle that there was a Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, that he was the reason why muggleborns were taken from their families by the time they were eleven, placed into orphanages and adopted by magical families. The reason why Dark magic stopped being illegal in 1983.
Harry remembered a lot from his childhood, more than most people did. His mother and father argued a lot. They argued over Dark magic a lot, talking about how the world was changing. His father disapproved of his mother hanging around Severus, jealous in a way she called unreasonable but turned out to be the exact opposite. His father dealt with Dark magic, his mother could barely stand it. Then it was his mother dealt with it while his father promoted it. In a way, it was Dark magic behind their split. It was also his mother's disloyalty and preference for The Greasy Git.
She left them. Didn't bother to even see Harry until she wanted him to meet his new baby half-sister. She tried taking custody of him, but Harry's dad had connections in the Ministry and she never managed to come close. She settled with the occasional visit, then with weekend stays every other week. Harry loved her because she was his mother, but he hated her because she betrayed his dad, her husband, and just left him, not caring about his feelings. Her selfishness nearly destroyed James Potter. Harry hated her for that, not a single doubt in his mind. As much as he did love her, what was left of the love a son had for his mother, he knew he wouldn't cry when she died.
In a long complicated road, Dark magic was behind it. Harry wondered what would've driven them apart if there was no Tom Riddle to discreetly encourage its legality. It put things in perspective, made him realize how things that seem completely unrelated can easily influence something that's effected your life profoundly. He wondered how many other lives were effected by Tom Riddle and Dark magic, without anyone realizing it. He wondered if Tom Riddle knew how he'd effected the world. Had to, Harry thought. The motivation to encourage Dark magic was probably to effect the world somehow.
This effected that and that effected this and this effected what?
Harry filled a journal with things about Tom Riddle.
Tom M. Riddle, born December 31st in 1926. Attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a Slytherin from 1937 to 1946. He graduated and whatever he did directly after graduation wasn't well documented, but his return was detailed after he started making lists of accomplishments. He spent 1950 to 1960 abroad, studying magic in foreign countries. He proved himself to be a scholarly man, too. He's the author of over a hundred books for a range of subjects, from basic charms to advanced Dark magic. He seemed to publish at least five new books every year. Harry wondered how many people admired the wizard the way he (did) was beginning to.
Harry took his every other weekend visits at his mother's gratefully, hoping for all he could that Tom would be there. He never was. It made him, to be honest- it made him sad.
The weekend before he returned to Hogwarts belonged to his mother.
Tom Riddle stayed for Sunday dinner.
"What House are you in?" Tom asked him partway into the meal. Harry was poking his steak when he asked.
"He's a Slytherin!" Rosemary proclaimed for him.
"Really?" Tom sipped his goblet. It was a simple-looking cup, but he always managed to look like a god. "I have to admit, I would've thought Gryffindor. Often, children go into the same House as one of their parents."
"My godfather says I'm the Black sheep." Harry said, cheeks tinted red. "He calls himself the Potter sheep, since he's a Black but he was a Gryffindor and never really, um, fit in…I fit in alright, though. It's like a job." He rambled out an explanation, wanted to punch himself in the chest.
"Sirius Black is your godfather, yes? I know his brother." Tom said. "If I recall correctly, he is the brother of Regulus Black?"
"Um, yeah." Harry nodded.
"Harry's in the Dueling Club." His mother proclaimed. Harry blinked. How did she know that?
"Dueling? Are you any good?" Tom asked.
"I think. Professor Crouch tells me I have good form, but I get in trouble during sparring. I use to many curses and Dark magic and, uh, I'm not supposed to as much as I do. Something about spell variety." Harry said.
"In a real duel, a variety of spells is essential." Tom said. "However, I've found, for some, advanced knowledge on certain subjects can go just as long a way as a balanced knowledge of all subjects. For the mediocre, they need balance. For the strong, advanced is best. For the great…They take both though they don't need to." He looked into Harry's eyes. "Would you like to be strong, or great?"
Harry swallowed the spit in his mouth. "Um, great?"
"Good answer. Next time, state it, don't question yourself." Tom turned his attention away from Harry, like taking the sun away from a plant that's spent his life in the shade. He turned to Severus, asked a question about his work on some poison.
So this is unfinished and idk if I'll ever continue it. I wrote it well after midnight, so it's probably riddled with mistakes and plot holes, but hEy. I like the idea I have of it though.
I have a headcanon that James and Lily wouldn't have stayed married because they married directly after Hogwarts, had a kid, and honestly, starting a family when you're barely an adult never works out well. If the circumstances were right, Severus would've apologized to Lily and benefit off of her dissolving marriage. She'd move from James to him, do what so many other mothers have done; leave their husband and child without a look back. Cheating, divorce, abandonment...it happens more than you think.
All the right ingredients add up to the world this story lays in. The idea is, I think, likable and deserves me be expanded on more but...I doubt I will with this story. Thinking about trying to write something else with the basic idea that's in this story, only not centered around romance and a lot longer, but that has to wait until I'm done with Oblivion. IF I EVER FUCKING FINISH IT. to those who don't know what i'm talking about, don't worry, i'm just a total procrastinator and i write shit instead writing the crap i should be writing.
Anyways...this is hardcore unfinished, but I doubt I'll ever continue it. Still wanted to post it though. So it'll be marked incomplete! Peace out y'all