This is obviously an AU. Tom Riddle was not born in 1926 but in 1979, making him older than Harry by a few months.

Harry hadn't meant to overhear his parents. He went to get a glass of water, not an unusual action for him even at this hour. Looking outside, Harry saw the moon shining over his mother's azaleas as he reached the staircase and silently descended. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when he heard his mother's worried voice.

"—s not that I don't trust him, James," she said and Harry guessed she talked about him. To her mother, he was her baby even if he was already sixteen years old. Besides, nothing Charlotte did was ever wrong, and Ed was too young to be troubling his mother in terms of trust.

He had one foot on the next step of the staircase, fully intent on returning to his bedroom and letting the conversation slip from his mind. He was used to the hushed talks of his parents, and though sometimes the topics were interesting, listening to another reason why his mother didn't trust him was not something he wanted to do.

Then, he heard his godfather's voice and stopped. The wooden staircase creaked under his weight, but the sound never carried to the adjacent rooms; his father had made sure of that so he could surprise them now and then. Harry smiled briefly before pressing himself against the wall, quietly standing there to sate his curiosity. Had his parents called Sirius to speak about him or was he there by casualty?

"Lily, it's not a big deal," Sirius said trying to sound happy. Harry could tell —and he was sure his parents could too— that Sirius was trying to be sincere and failing. "The boy is barely older than Harry and he hasn't shown any dark inclinations no matter what Dumbledore says."

"But the Headmaster shared his worries with us, Sirius," Lily groaned. "He said the Riddle boy is not what he seems to be."

So, it was about him and Tom. Harry gulped and went back to his room. He didn't need to hear anything else because the same conversation —warnings, his mother had pointed out once— had been repeated countless times before. Harry was sure his mother was exasperated with Sirius and his father; they liked Tom well enough, but she kept muttering about maternal instincts and such. Harry didn't know if she was right about it or not, but the truth was that he knew Tom; there was no danger in being his friend, no matter what Dumbledore told his parents.

He laid on his bed and pulled the covers up to his neck, curling in the warmth. Harry frowned. Had his parents had Charlotte look upon him with the Map? He couldn't know, and besides, she wasn't to be blamed. His younger sister was happy and kind. And she did everything Mum asked, but never with the intention of getting Harry into trouble.

He stood up suddenly, discarding the blue covers, and grabbed his Cloak. The material was soft and filled with magic; it shimmered under the fickle candlelight and Harry smiled softly. The Invisibility Cloak had been the best gift his father had ever given to him, and he would treasure it until it came the time to pass it on to his own child. But sometimes he thought Charlotte's gift was more useful. If he had the Map...

He didn't have it, though, and the Cloak was more than enough.

Harry went back to bed, but he took his diary with him. He wouldn't be able to sleep for a while and he was still thirsty. As soon as he heard his parents go to their room, he would go to the kitchen.

The diary had a black cover with red letters engraved. The tag Harry J. Potter looked elegant against the leather cover, or so Tom had said. Harry made a note to get his friend one journal like his, frowning at the thought of everything Tom wanted and couldn't have because of his lack of money and his status as a Slytherin.

His frown deepened. The unfairness of their situations was notorious. Harry, while enjoying the privileges that came with being his parents' son, didn't like the prejudice that came with Tom's parentage and wished his mother could help Tom to overcome said prejudice as she had done. But she didn't like him because the Headmaster said he was a bully in the orphanage where he lived.

It was, Harry thought, an unfair situation. Still, Tom was making a name for himself. Harry felt honestly happy for his friend, who kept amazing everyone with his displays of magic and the sharp intellect that came up with ideas for charms and potions as easily as Harry breathed. Sometimes he wished he could be like Tom, but it was not in him.

Granted, Harry had good grades but he had to put effort into it and he was sure he wouldn't if Mum and Hermione didn't push him. He wasn't as bad as Ron, Harry knew and grinned at the thought of his friend. He was not a bad wizard at all and by his own right got nine OWLs, but both Hermione and Tom got twelve. Harry got ten and he was proud of his O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, being the only one who got the special mention besides Tom.

It all came back to Tom. Harry smiled one last time before falling asleep against the wall, thinking of him.