A/N: I'm disgusting. Who doesn't upload for ten thousand after promising she would? Me. But here it is... enjoy? And if it makes you feel any better, I felt terrible for the whole time :( *smiles a smile more sheepish than Harry*
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
•~•~•~•
Harry made a silent vow that he would pay Riddle back for quite possibly saving him from Filch and Mrs Norris; when he returned to the common room, he was so magically exhausted from using his developing magic to hold a full-body disillusionment charm, however abysmal, for over half an hour he could barely cancel the charm put on by the mysterious man, indeed Riddle was a suitable name for him. He had gone to bed with most of his arms still concealed that night, he just couldn't get his magic to focus and decided a rest was well in order for him.
The next morning, after a freak out having thought his arms have disappeared in his sleep-muddled mind, he had made his way to the Great Hall with a frazzled but otherwise, happy expression, made happier by the incredulous expression on Malfoy's normally composed face. Harry was tempted to wave at Malfoy in an exacerbated manner but controlled himself. He didn't need to make Malfoy angrier, because, despite everything, Malfoy still has the upper hand in terms of connections and respect. He settled for a relaxed grin and sat himself down on his end of the long table and took a piece of toast for his enjoyment.
Harry had already planned out his whole day; he wanted to understand why he'd felt so safe and strangely comfortable around Riddle. He would research in the library for whatever he can find, and he was hoping that it would be a lot. A library that big had to have something he could use, didn't it? And there was also Hermione. He was certain Hermione is great at researching, but he was also certain it would mean he would be interrogated until he was forced to reveal his reasons for his research escapade. He can't risk asking her or anyone.
It's not like he has anyone else to ask for help.
•~•~•~•
When Lord Voldemort had his mind on something, he had a terrifying obsession with finding out every possible known fact there existed.
Thus, it was that Lord Voldemort had found that Harry Potter, the sole heir of James and Lily Potter, two annoying thorns on his side for a majority of the war, lived with muggles. Muggles. When his Death Eaters had gotten around to killing the couple, the war was close to being won by his forces and thus it was declared that every child that was too young to be set in their beliefs was to be spared, in an effort to ensure that Wizarding Britain maintains a sizable population. Sirius Black had been killed in an Auror raid a few months back when a stray curse had taken his life. With no godfather left, Harry was brought to his next immediate family, the Dursleys, by Albus Dumbledore. Simply thinking of the man made his blood boil.
However, the momentary anger was satiated by the thought which followed; he had killed the aged wizard in a fierce duel, which had also resulted in the scattering and disbanding of the Order of the Phoenix. Since then, the once powerful organisation has disintegrated into small cells that caused the occasional problem for him and his Death Eaters. Most known members, however, were captured and either executed or turned into the first batch of servants in the new world.
Those that still roam free around Europe are currently posing a threat and have been quite the annoyance. It would seem that Dumbledore, before his inevitable death, had left clues to Moody and their happy band of sickeningly righteous felons, regarding his horcruxes. There have been a few breaches of security at Gringotts bank, or specifically, Bellatrix's vault where Hufflepuff's goblet and one of his horcruxes were kept. He had taken it upon himself to ensure the safety and security of all his horcruxes, and the diadem in the Room of Hidden Things was simply the last of the lot. He had visited that day and moved it to a much more secure location and placed enchantments on it to remedy his arrogant overlooking of placing protections on a vassal of his soul in his youth.
On his way to the Headmaster's office to use the Floo, he had quite literally run into the boy. The boy was under a rather deplorable disillusionment charm, but one had to bear in mind he was a first-year. He is fairly certain that, at least in his time, most of his classmates could barely levitate an object properly. He, of course, had ensured he knew not only how to execute the Levitation Charm perfectly, but to read ahead, way ahead. By the end of his tenure as a first year, he had likely known more spells than the average sixth year.
Harry's magic was, in short, incredible. It called and beckoned his magic and he felt for once, at peace with himself. He couldn't understand why he found himself so unable to do anything to the boy. Why he was not able to put the boy in his place, watch him pale and the horror, fear and awe to surface on his face as he revealed his identity. Instead, he had told him his filthy muggle name. He had left quickly, desperate to commence his research; for Lord Voldemort absolutely despised being confused and thus, was did everything he could to find out more about both this new experience and the boy.
He worked tirelessly and found what could be the most accurate description of what he had felt: Compatible magical cores. They were certainly uncommon, but not unheard of. It is often that the pair that has compatible cores with each other have wands that are brothers, or even twins in the rarest occasion. It is common that the two may have similar upbringings. Power levels of the pair are almost always at approximately the same level, both being relatively high, superior to the average wizard.
First meetings usually result in the two to feel attracted to the other's magic and would develop a sense of protectiveness to each other. They would find themselves unable to have a desire to harm one another, further cemented by the fact that most people with compatible magical cores have brother wands.
Now, the question of keeping in contact with the boy had to be addressed. He knew he could simply summon the boy to him; he was, after all, Lord Voldemort and no one in their right mind would dare try to stop him. But he soon came to the realisation that perhaps he needed a break from all the sycophantic behaviour of his subjects. Young Harry Potter was the first person in likely decades that didn't know who he was, and thus did not fawn all over him, and though to a certain degree, he relished in it but could get rather tiring.
Perhaps it was time to let fate lead the way, meddling every now and then. He would willingly admit to himself that he was very much a control freak, but wouldn't it be fun to watch young Potter creep slowly to the realisation. His lips twitched upwards at the thought. The boy seemed intelligent, not even falling for his little declaration that he was trustworthy as an eleven-year-old. The sooner he realised who he was, the better, it would help with "trust-building". He scoffed lightly at that.
For now, he will get Severus to update him on all the students, inclusive of first years, which isn't unusual for him, he did ask for any extraordinary students within the cohort as potential Death Eaters, despite Severus' usual flippant dismissal of the bunch as 'conceited dunderheads' or 'squeamish, naive imbeciles', before providing him with a file, accompanied by snide remarks which he let slide for his competence and service to him. It would be the most discreet way to get to Harry Potter for now.
Unfortunately, that would have to wait until next week for he had more pressing matters to attend to, namely the annoying cells of former Order of the Phoenix members that are causing some trouble for him in London.
•~•~•~•
Harry spent the most part of his Saturday in the library. He browsed through any books he could find about magical theory and magic's effects on his body, mind, emotions, anything! And barely an iota of relevant information could be found. He found bizarre rituals (one that included hugging a bathing yourself in a venom of some sort), soul magic and even tried his own textbooks out of desperation. Nothing.
He sat there for a while, not quite knowing what to do. He could ask Riddle, or Tom, as he would like to call him. It made him feel less lonely. But he didn't want him to think he was stupid after his small praise of the night before. No, he was determined to find out himself. Harry felt a wave of dread and despair wash over him. Perhaps he was biting off more than he could chew. Forcing himself to think optimistically, Harry thought about how impressed Tom may be when he discovers that Harry had done such research and found out what all this was about all by himself. He let a small smile grace his lips and set off for the shelves of the endless library. He dwelled not on the evidence of the failed attempts on the table to occupied, but on the fact that there were countless of shelves still not explored.
By the time he was kicked out of the library half an hour before curfew, Harry had found one scrap of information that might be useful. It was some sort of curious soul bond that describes some of what he had been feeling, only one thing didn't add up; it has only been known to happen between a male and a female. And Harry was certain he was absolutely male, thank you very much, so unless Tom had lied about his name, and had a sort of spell to change his appearance, glamour or something, as mentioned in passing by Professor Flitwick, he was back to square one.
When he wandered back to his common room entrance and uttered the password he nearly smacked straight into the blank wall.
They had changed the password. And he didn't know what it was.
Harry felt his heart starting to race. He spoke the password again, hoping that by some miracle, the insentient wall would take pity on him and let him through. It didn't, of course. He contemplated going to Professor Slughorn's office but it was late, and he doubted Professor Slughorn wouldn't mind an interruption to his work or rest, whatever he may say to reassure Harry. His best bet now was to hope that someone else had been outside the common room and hear the password from him or her.
Curfew was just four minutes away and still, no Slytherins were to be seen in the corridors of the dungeons. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of having to spend the night in the corridor, but his thoughts were interrupted by the commotion that was the prefects leaving for their patrol duty. He surged to his feet and walked briskly towards the group, ignoring the pang of fear that seized him at the thought of facing the intimidating group of fifth to seventh years alone, being a tiny first year himself. They all turned to stare him down and one of the burly boys started in an interrogatory voice, "It's almost curfew; what're you doing out?"
"I… I don't know the new p-password," Harry muttered sheepishly in reply. He ducked his head down upon hearing a few scattered sighs of exasperation.
"Maybe we should just leave him. Let him know the consequences of not checking the passwords," Harry blanched at the suggestion.
"Slytherins look out for their own, Montague," admonished the most senior looking girl with a shining head girl badge, "the password is 'Acromantula', and I expect you would check for new passwords from now on. Don't count on our pity or generosity, and your luck to get in." Harry thanked her in a small voice and slinked away just in time to see her nod imperiously, before gesturing for her fellow prefects to leave for their patrol duty.
The wall finally made way to the long missed entrance of the Slytherin common room, the calming green of the room and the sense of relief washing over him as if he were under the rushing streams of the water from the lake to the walls of his common room. He let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding and made his way up to his dorm room.
He barely had a breather before he saw Malfoy and his gang minus Pansy surrounding the small space right after the entrance of the boys' dormitory. Harry would've missed the momentary look of surprise on Malfoy's face if he had blinked.
"Well, Potter, thank Merlin you knew the password, I would hate to know one of my fellow Slytherin year mates had to spend a night in the cold, dark corridors of the dungeons. We were all waiting for you, you know," he said sardonically with his customary imperious, condescending smirk.
"Nice to know," was all Harry deigned to reply them with; he was dead on his feet, and he couldn't be bothered to grace their presences with more than a tired reply and a look of resignation. He heard their sniggering in the background and ignored the annoyance and indignation he truly felt, forcing his feet to trudge forward to the bathrooms for a quick shower, a brush of his teeth and finally, his long-awaited sleep.
Even in his sleep, he could not escape his thought and that night, he dreamt of meeting Tom again.
A/N: Okay honestly this chapter is kinda just a filler, hopefully more exciting things to come, yes? Review :) ~kuvyyra