It's really funny how life could go sometimes. One day you're a student at a school for magical children and the next day a father of a baby that would grow up to be the Darkest wizard ever.
Yes. Harry supposed it sounded very hilarious when he spun the thought around in his mind, but when it's you that has to go through all that it suddenly sounded pretty grim.
With Tom held against his shoulder and his other hand holding the suitcase with the little possessions he had left, Harry crossed the street and hurried off. He wasn't exactly familiar with 1920's London, but he had received directions to his new home where he was to raise Tom for the next few years. With 'few' actually meaning the whole of Tom's childhood and after that as long as was necessary to be sure that Tom would not follow the dark path but the good one. Assuming that there even was such a path that Tom could take. That was one of the many risks that was attached to this (Mission? Quest?) and that Harry had to figure out along the way.
Harry got startled when Tom suddenly made a loud noise in his arms and he stopped on the sidewalk to maneuver the baby in his arms so he could look at his tiny face. He almost dropped him when wise grey eyes blinked up at him.
His eyes. Those are his eyes. Could he recognize me? Does he know who I am? Or no; who I would become?
Immediately Harry pushed away those crazy thoughts. By the minute he was growing more paranoid and hostile against Tom, which was of course just plain ridiculous. Tom knew nothing. He was only a few weeks old and probably could only think very basic thoughts at this point.
What if he's hungry? Or- Oh no, this whole deal involves changing his diapers too, right?
Harry felt like cursing but decided against it in the presence of a baby. Voldemort or not, it was still… inappropriate.
Tom didn't make any further noises, so Harry pressed him against his shoulder again and began walking. The house wasn't really far from the Orphanage – it was in the same poor neighborhood close to the city's centre. Professor McGonnagal already warned him that his living conditions weren't really going to be the best, but at least it wouldn't be as bad as a miner's cottage; Harry was going to live in a slightly bigger house than that with two upstairs bedrooms and even a little garden behind the house. Maybe he could grow vegetables. Or Tom could play outside in the sand when he would be a little older. All very comforting and pleasant ideas.
Yeah, killing Tom was off the record again, thought Harry as he walked past a old couple in shabby clothing that looked him up and down for a second before dismissing him and going back to their own troubled thoughts. If there is only the slightest possibility that this will work, I will have to do it. I am going to do it. It's not going to be easy and I will throw away a large chunk of my life trying to do this, so I might as well give all I have. If this can save people – prevent them from dying – than I'll do it. I will.
Harry tried to ignore little hands groping his suit jacket and his ear when he at last turned a corner and saw a battered sign that said 'St. Michael's street' on the wooden plank that pointed to the right. Harry followed the sign and felt his heart sank down to his stomach when he saw the state the street was in. It was hard to imagine that it could have been worse.
The street was poorly paved with cobblestones that stuck unevenly out of the ground. A couple of boys of about eight years old with dirt smudges on their faces and clothes were chasing each other loudly with tree branches. They almost knocked Harry to the ground when they sped past him.
A woman whose age Harry couldn't really guess was washing clothes in a wooden tub, but the water was so filthy that they didn't really seem to improve. Yet, she was scrubbing so hard that most of the stains in the clothing magically seemed to disappear. Harry quickly nodded at her when she looked up and spotted him. She stood up and wiped a wet hand over her sweaty forehead and blinked at him. Her hair was a brownish red and her clear blue eyes seemed to be able to look straight through him. Her dress was old and you could clearly see several places where the fabric was sewn together after being torn, but it was clean. She could be around thirty, but it was hard to say with the early wrinkles that got only more pronounced when she frowned at him. Harry suddenly realized he had been staring and got a bit flustered.
"Excuse me, ma'am, I didn't mean to be rude. My name is Harry P- Er, Riddle, and I'll be your new neighbor, I guess. Oh, and this here is Tom… My son. We'll be living in number 9. Do you know where it is?"
I'm such an idiot. Why can't I say things in a normal way without stumbling over my words? Great. Fantastic. And this is only day one.
To Harry's surprise her face softened and instead of ignoring him or yelling she responded softly:
"Good day to you, sir. Me name is Ellen Williams. I live 'ere with me children and husband. Your house is over there, with the broken window. One of me boys threw it in, I'm afraid."
Harry followed her pointed finger and saw a little house that resembled all the others in the street. One of the front windows was indeed broken, but apart from that it looked quite all right to him.
"Oh, that's okay. I will have to fix that sometime. Thank you for your help."
"No problem, dear. If you don't mind me probing… Can I have a look at your boy? It's already been a few years since I had one meself and I really love 'em."
Harry hesitated for a second before walking to Ellen and handing over Tom. A strange feeling surged through him when he removed the warm baby from his chest and let him be taken from him. Ellen obviously held a baby before, so it wasn't like Harry was afraid she would drop him or anything. But still… He couldn't really place the hollow feeling in his chest and he felt strangely restless as he watched Ellen cooing down at Tom. Said Tom looked up at Ellen's face and Harry could have sworn that he had a look of dismay on his little face upon seeing her.
He doesn't look at me like that. Does that mean that he likes me? How odd is that. I never thought I would live to see the day that Voldemort would be glad to see me. But then again, he's just a baby now.
"What a lovely little fella. And such beautiful eyes he has. He looks like you, sir."
I doubt that, Harry wanted to say, but instead he went with: "Yes. He kind of does."
It wasn't the first nor the last time Harry got compared with Voldemort, but it was strange to hear it in this context and also from a Muggle at that.
Ellen smile grew when Tom started thrashing his tiny arms around, displeased by something. Harry could see that Ellen was missing a few teeth. Despite that and her wrinkles, she had definitely been a pretty woman once. Hard labor and stress must've changed her to the tired, but strong woman she now was.
Harry automatically stretched out his arms when Tom suddenly let out a loud wail and Ellen handed Tom over again. Once in Harry's arms Tom got calm again and stared at him for a second with those strange eyes of his. It was strange to not see any coldness in Tom's gaze and Harry stared back at him, a bit confused. Then the moment was broken and Tom closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep again.
Ellen did not seem to have noticed anything strange between them and was still smiling a little. Then she picked up a shirt off the ground and bend over the tub again. Harry got the message and thanked her a second time before heading off across the street to where his house was.
Now closer to it, Harry saw the old wooden front door and a short sandy path to it. A few bushes shielded the windows partially for nosy neighbors and he could see that there were still some glass shards hanging on the window frame, as if they were holding on for dear life and refusing to fall off.
One Reparo could repair it. But I'm supposed to use as little magic as possible, and especially not something so obvious like this. I would think it strange too if a sixteen-year-old with a baby could get a new window that fast.
Harry stopped at the door and suddenly realized he had no key. But upon closer inspection he saw that that wasn't necessary; he just needed to turn the knob and he was inside. He should've known this. Cheap houses like this didn't have doors that could be locked. In a neighborhood like this, people just walked inside each other houses if they wanted to chat or if they needed anything. Nobody has really anything that is worth stealing because no one can afford anything affordable. It was just all about survival here. No luxury, but just barely enough food on the table each day. This was what his life was going to be and he just had to accept that.
That raised another problem for Harry; Soon his Muggle money would be completely spend and he would have to find a job. But where? In times like this, just after the First World War, would he be able to find a job that would be enough to be able to take care of himself and Tom? And speaking of Tom – where was Harry going to be leaving him when he would be at work? They didn't have any daycares at this point of time, or did they? If so, then he would have to find one of those too. But it had to be a safe one. Preferably only with only women and no men. He really wouldn't be comfortable with that.
Oh, wait. That shouldn't be a problem. It's unlikely that in this time a man would be doing a job considered to be solely for women and vice versa. I really wasn't prepared to be thrown in this point of time barely knowing what I was getting into.
Dumbledore thought he could do it, though. Otherwise he would've never let him do this. Would he? Harry probably just had to figure everything out on his own, piece by piece. That really sounded like something his late mentor would let him do.
A lump formed in his throat when he thought of his Professor with the long hair and beard and the twinkling eyes above his golden glasses and his hands pressed together at the tips. If Harry closed his eyes he saw him perfectly, sitting behind his desk with Fawkes the Phoenix besides him. Now he was buried inside a white tomb and his seat was handed over to Professor McGonnagal.
The image of Dumbledore disappeared from his mind and instead he saw an empty room with no sign of Fawkes either. Harry opened his eyes again and put the suitcase on the ground before finally opening the door and walking in.
It was a small open room with the living room and kitchen combined. Right in front of him a narrow wooden staircase lead upstairs and on his right, by the broken window, was a small shapeless couch and a unstable little table. A fireplace stood beside it, which Harry was glad to see. For as long as the window wasn't repaired he and Tom at least wouldn't freeze to death. A thin curtain could be shoved in front of the window, but that wouldn't really help much with keeping the cold out.
The kitchen wasn't really special. Neither was the table squeezed into the small room with four chairs by it. However, this was his home now and he had to learn to accept it. At least his living space was improved from his cabinet under the staircase.
Harry glanced a last time at the room before going up the very creaky staircase to the top floor. He arrived at a small hallway with one door at each side. At the top end of the hallway was a narrow window with a view to the garden behind the house.
Harry carefully put his suitcase down again for the second time and opened each door. They both led to a very small and narrow bedroom. The left one seemed slightly bigger so that's where he went in with his stuff and Tom. He could barely walk since most of the room was occupied by a old bed and a closet beside it. Harry suddenly became aware of how tired he was. It was strange that just a few hours ago he was still at Hogwarts attending the funeral of Dumbledore. Never would he have expected to be here. Alone, without Ron and Hermione, and with the care over baby Voldemort pressing hard on his shoulders and sanity. Harry was tired, confused, angry and sad all at the same time. The thought of closing his eyes even for just a moment really appealed to him right now.
Placing his suitcase on the ground Harry carefully placed the sleeping Tom on the bed and shrugged his suit jacket off. He picked Tom up again and crawled on the bed while toeing of his shoes. He placed Tom beside him on the bed and held a arm around him so he wouldn't accidentally roll off the bed in his sleep. Maybe it would safe Harry a lot of trouble if he really did fell off and broke his neck, but that thought only brought disgust now. Instead, he lay a protecting hand over the small back of the baby and looked at his sleeping form for a moment with mixed feelings he couldn't quite place. Slowly Harry's eyes fell shut and he drifted off in a restless sleep.
