Happy Yule everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long since I last updated this, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Also, it hasn't been edited too closely, so please forgive any mistakes.
Bartemius Crouch Junior stood, plastic tray in hand, staring at the sight in front of him. Harry Potter was sitting alone at the very end of one of the speckled dining hall tables. The familiar blazer thrown over the back of the chair beside him made it clear that he would not be alone for long, but that only made things more puzzling. This afternoon had thrown his understanding of his Lord completely through a loop. Harry Potter was a piece of the puzzle, but Barty had no idea how he fit into the picture he had been painstakingly putting together of his leader.
Barty had never before given any thought to what Riddle had been like growing up. It was hard to imagine him as anything other than what he was, an intelligent, astute, ruthless man. One who was laying the groundwork for a vast empire. Imagining him a child was impossible.
But he had been. He had been a child. And now here was someone who had been there for those formative years. Someone who had been part of them. Someone who had clearly been important.
Someone, Barty had realized as he watched the two interact earlier that day, who would be important again. Riddle's intent had been obvious, which in and of itself had been a surprise. The hunger in his gaze when he looked at the man under his arm earlier had been an almost palpable thing. It wasn't a question of if Harry Potter would end up in his bed, but a question of when. And from what Barty had seen, unlike all who had come before him, Harry Potter would be staying there.
Barty took a deep breath before walking forward, closing the space between them until he stood across the table from the boy who had thrown everything into chaos.
"Hello Harry," Barty said, careful to keep his tone respectful. "Do you mind if I join you?"
Harry gave a small jerk of surprise. He looked up from where his finger had been tracing patterns against the tabletop and gave him a somewhat sheepish grin. It became wider and something more genuine when he recognized the man speaking to him.
"Not at all," he said cheerfully. "Barty, right?"
Barty nodded as he slid his tray onto the table before taking a seat across from Harry.
"How's orientation going so far?" Barty asked, using small talk as cover as he examined the man in front of him.
He'd made a study of Harry when they'd first been introduced. He was attractive, if perhaps a bit too skinny, with long limbs and messy hair and bright eyes, but Riddle had never before been swayed by a pretty face. Harry's clothes had been of good quality and had fit him well. Most shockingly of all, however, had been his ease with Riddle, his comfort not only in the man's presence but the easy physical contact the two made.
All of that was still true, but his hair was even messier than it had been before, and the column of his throat now bore a collection of red marks and his lips were slightly swollen. Riddle worked fast, apparently.
"It could definitely be better," Harry said, a wry smile on his lips. "The smirks are getting old really fast, but if Tom's smug, he's not irritated, so that's something at least."
Barty had the good grace to blush a little with embarrassment at having been caught. He was going to apologize, but something about the expression on Harry's face stopped him. Instead, he found himself shrugging and giving an unrepentant grin. He was rewarded with a laugh, and his smile widened at the sight of sparkling green eyes. His companion abruptly became more serious, and Barty found himself sitting up straighter.
"Tom's impatient," Harry warned him. "He and I haven't really had a chance to talk, or a chance to…" here Harry flushed bright red, "spend a lot of time together," Harry finished carefully.
Barty raised one brow, looking pointedly at the marks on Harry's neck.
"We didn't manage to get much further than that before orientation started," Harry said, eyes fixed on the tabletop and cheeks still pink. Harry raised his gaze, staring at Barty seriously. "He and I keep getting interrupted, and his temper's getting shorter as a result. Just…be careful. I think he's going to be on edge until we managed to get all of this settled."
Barty felt cold suddenly. Tom Riddle, sexually frustrated and on edge was not something he wanted to deal with.
Harry took a look at the expression on his face and let out a snort of laughter.
"Sorry. I just…your face. I know he's scary, but you look like you're standing in front of a firing squad."
That was a remarkably accurate description of how he was feeling actually, for all that the imagery wasn't quite right.
"It's more like you just told me I'll be playing Russian roulette for the next week, except there's bullets in every chamber but one."
Barty began swearing internally even as the words left his mouth. He shouldn't have said that. He really shouldn't have said that. Especially not to Riddle's newest conquest.
Harry laughed. Harry laughed so hard his shoulders began to shake and his face flushed. Barty found himself helpless to do anything but join in.
"I imagine that's exactly what it's like, yeah," Harry said with a grin once the laughter had died down.
"Dare I ask what's so funny?" a familiar voice asked.
Barty could hear his heartbeat in his ears as Riddle approached the table, the laughter of moments before now ashes in his mouth. Riddle placed two trays on the table, one in front of his empty chair and the other in front of Harry. Barty stared, dumbstruck. Riddle was someone who never did favors for others unless it somehow benefited himself. Even then, those favors were never anything that could be construed as subservient.
Fetching food for someone else definitely fell under that category.
"I was laughing at you," Harry said, grinning at Riddle as he took his seat. "And at Barty. Barty was really just hysterical. You're going to give him a nervous breakdown at this rate."
"My behavior may be the trigger, but any nervous breakdowns are clearly going to be your fault," Riddle replied easily as he sank gracefully down into his seat.
"Probably," Harry said with a small grin. He looked down at his tray and his brow wrinkled before he shot Tom a look.
Barty found himself glancing at Harry's tray as well. What he found there shocked him.
Instead of the typical faire of a sandwich or a burger from the grill, there was a bowl on Harry's tray. Soup was always offered, but Harry's bowl seemed to contain nothing but the broth. There were two glasses on Harry's tray, both of which contained milk. And that was all.
"Start with the milk," Tom said, acting as if he didn't even notice the glare Harry was giving him.
"Are you kidding me."
It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Riddle turned and faced Harry, expression serious and intense in a way that had all the hairs on Barty's neck standing on end.
"Do you want to get into this right now?" Riddle asked, gesturing obviously at Barty with a tilt of his head. "Because I will. It's your choice."
"I am perfectly willing to discuss your ridiculous micromanaging in front of Barty," Harry snapped, crossing his arms over his chest, still glaring.
"When was the last time you had a full meal?" Riddle asked Harry, exaggerated casual air setting off every warning bell in Barty's head.
Harry just glared in response.
"That was not a rhetorical question, Harry," Riddle said, his voice hard. "When was the last time you had a full meal?"
"Last Tuesday," Harry said, but his tone turned the words into a fuck you.
Barty stared at him, dumbfounded. You didn't talk to Riddle like that. You just didn't. The last time someone had casually disrespected the man, they'd ended up in the hospital. Nothing that could lead back to him, obviously. He was too good for that. But they all knew.
Then the words themselves sunk in, and Barty blanched. That was a little over a week. An eating disorder, maybe? Barty had noticed himself that Potter was too skinny. Judging by Riddle's expression, he wasn't pleased by that state of affairs.
Clearly this confrontation had been planned.
A conversation of a deeply personal nature was unfolding in front of him. One Riddle would never have allowed in front of Barty if he hadn't wanted Barty there for some reason. Barty had no idea what that reason could be, and that only served to wind him up further.
But it wasn't his job to know. It was simply his job to carry out Riddle's desires. Taking initiative could wait until he had a better sense of this new landscape.
"That's honestly better then I was expecting," Tom said. "Did the Dursleys have a change of heart?"
Potter said nothing, instead crossing his arms and glaring hard at Tom.
"Ah. Not the Dursleys. Obviously. Your friend Ronald?"
Harry's jaw clenched.
"Regardless, that isn't the point. Tell me Harry," Tom asked, leaning back in an exaggeratedly display of relaxation, "have you heard of refeeding syndrome?"
Barty froze, suddenly understanding. He was premed, at his father's insistence, for all that Tom had assured him he'd be able to do whatever he wanted by the time he graduated. Still, that didn't prevent him from doing the best he could in the courses he was forced to attend to placate his father.
Refeeding syndrome happened when someone who had been without adequate nutrition for a long time began eating regularly again. It was a serious problem, if not handled carefully. Electrolyte and fluid issues were common, as were complications in various systems throughout the body.
Potter had apparently been starved, if he hadn't eaten a full meal in over a week. And if Barty was interpreting the conversation correctly, it was not an eating disorder as he had first assumed, but as a result of being actively denied food. That Riddle knew enough to be concerned about refeeding syndrome suggested it had gone on for years.
His insistence on Barty's presence for the conversation suddenly made a great deal more sense. As a pre-med student, Barty would be more likely to notice the signs of something going wrong than someone else. That his floor and Riddle's would be paired together for many of the orientation activities gave him more access to Potter than anyone other than Riddle would have. Clearly Riddle was expecting him to keep an eye on Potter to be certain no complications developed, a task Barty was uniquely suited to.
Harry crossed his arms and openly glared at Riddle.
"No. But I'm sure you're going to enlighten me," Harry spat.
"Suddenly reintroducing food to the system after long periods of starvation can have devastating consequences," Riddle told him, his exaggeratedly casual air making Barty clench his fist under the table. "So, broth and milk. At least until we see how your system tolerates that."
Harry just glared at him, looking very much as if he was contemplating dumping the broth on Riddle's head.
"Would you rather be admitted to the hospital? I must confess that having you under medical supervision while food was being reintroduced to your system would be my preference."
Harry, still glaring, reached out and grabbed one of the glasses of milk. For a long moment, Barty though he really was going to dump the thing on Riddle's head. Instead, to Barty's immense relief, he raised it to his lips and took an incredibly angry sip. Barty hadn't known that a sip could be angry, but Harry had proved him wrong.
"Liar," Harry said, setting his glass back down.
Barty choked on air. You didn't talk to Tom Riddle like that. You just didn't. Not without consequences.
Riddle's only response was to arch an eyebrow.
"If I was in the hospital, we couldn't finish what we stared earlier."
"True as that may be, I wouldn't risk your health," Riddle answered.
"So this is not so much a compromise between you and me as it is a compromise between your desire to keep me safe and..." Harry stuttered to a stop, his face turning red.
"My desire?" Tom asked, brow raised and lips curled into a lascivious smirk.
Harry just glared at him in response.
"Is there a reason it can't be both at once?" Riddle asked.
"Unbelievable," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. "You are just..." he made a wordless noise of frustration before slouching back against his chair.
Riddle didn't say anything, but Barty watched with wide eyes as he reached out and grabbed Harry's hand in his own before bringing it up and pressing a lingering kiss to the back of Harry's hand, eyes fixed on Harry's own.
Barty, not for the first time since he'd sat down, wished intensely that he was anywhere else. The look being exchanged between Riddle and Harry was something intensely private. The way Harry was softening in response felt far too intimate for anyone else to be witness to, the look Riddle was giving him something impossible.
"You're a bastard," Harry said, but his voice was soft.
"I'm your bastard," Riddle replied, running his thumb along the back of Harry's hand in a subtle caress before bringing their joined hands under the table.
Harry looked at him for a long moment.
"You really are, aren't you?" he said, his green eyes usually bright.
"A bastard?" Riddle asked with a quirked brow. "I thought we cleared that up."
"Mine," Harry said.
"Obviously," Riddle drawled. "Just like you're mine."
Barty gripped the edge of his chair, knuckles bleached white. Holy shit. Holy shit. Riddle calling Harry his was no surprise. Riddle had always been possessive. But...Tom Riddle was not the sort to tolerate belonging to someone else. Him admitting as much?
Harry Potter was a force to be reckoned with.
The force in question blushed crimson before hiding himself as best he could behind his glass of milk.
"How long is it going to be before I can have real food again?" Harry asked as he set his glass back down on the table, a resigned expression on his face.
"Three days," Riddle said. "And we'll be stopping by the health center to get bloodwork every evening, just to make sure there aren't any red flags. There's a nurse practitioner who owes me a favor."
Harry blew out a breath. "Fine. But I'm sleeping in my own room tonight."
Riddle froze and his eyes narrowed.
"That's the deal," Harry said, leaning back and crossing his arms, chin tilted stubbornly upward. "I need to start getting used to my room and getting to know my roommate."
The word roommate had Riddles' eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly and Barty spared a moment to be sorry for the poor bastard who'd had the misfortune to be roomed with Harry Potter. The poor freshman had no idea what he was in for.
"It's either that or I go check myself into the hospital right now," Harry said, one eyebrow lifted in silence challenge.
Riddle met his gaze with a calculating look that had Barty wanting to dive for cover, but Harry simply stared back at him as if it were nothing.
"Fine," Riddle said, leaning backwards a slightly smug smile pulling at his lips. "You sleep in your room tonight. Hell, you can even sleep in your room for the rest of the week. But after the activity on Friday, I'm stealing you."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Fine," Harry said.
"Excellent," Riddle said, a smug grin on his lips, leaning back. "Now, have you figured out your course schedule yet?"
Harry reached up and ran the hand not currently under the table through his hair.
"Christ, you're going to be worse than Hermione, aren't you?" Harry asked, a resigned look on his face but a grin on his lips.
"Oh, undoubtedly," Riddle said with a shark's grin. "In every possible way."
The rest of the meal was spent hammering out the specifics of Harry's first year schedule. Barty had taken to the topic with relish, sensing something familiar and grabbing onto it with both hands.
"Right," Barty said several minutes, glancing at the Rolex on his wrist. "It's about time to round up the firsties."
Riddle said nothing, but Barty could see him clenching his jaw. It was no secret that Riddle loathed dealing with orientation. The man had very little patience for stupidity, and Barty had to admit that there was an overabundance of it during orientation.
Harry reached out and ran his hands through Riddle's hair in a soothing motion.
"It's not all bad, is it? I mean, you found a way to turn icebreakers into reconnaissance. That's impressive."
"Child's play," Riddle returned, though Barty could see that his shoulders had lowered fractionally under Potter's care and his head was angled a fraction more in the other boy's direction, giving him better access. "And I won't be able to properly use the information for months."
"Poor mastermind," Harry said, but he was smiling. "Putting up with us mere mortals. How ever will you survive?"
Riddle turned and gave Harry a very unimpressed look, but he received only a smile in return.
"It's just the fire safety demo left, right?" Harry said, running his hand through Riddle's hair one last time before withdrawing. "Then you and I can go back to your room and finish getting caught up. Just another hour, and you don't even have to play nice. You can sit there and plot sinister deeds."
Riddle's only response was to lean down a press a kiss to Potter's lips, and Barty found himself glancing nervously around the dinning hall. Their section was practically empty save for their groups of first years, and they were all too absorbed in each other and their own anxieties to pay any mind to what the RA was up to. Still, Riddle needed to be careful. If anyone reported that he was dating one of his residents, there would be consequences. Riddle was the golden boy and had the entire Residential Life staff under his spell, so he likely wouldn't face any true consequences. Still, relationships between RAs and residents were strictly forbidden. No matter how much they liked Riddle, they wouldn't just sweep it under the rug. Not if there was an official report. Riddle would get a slap on the wrist, but Potter, Potter would be moved to a different dorm.
After seeing them together, watching the way Riddle was transformed simply by Harry's presence, Barty had no doubt any such move would be a complete disaster. Which meant it would be up to him to be viligent and ensure that no such report made its way to Res Life, for everyone's sake.
"Right," Harry said, a blush on his cheeks. "I'm, er, just going to run to the bathroom and then rejoin the others, then."
Riddle's eyes followed him avidly until he disappeared from sight. The second Harry was out of sight, however, Riddle sat upright, posture perfect. His eyes found Barty's, and he had to fight the urge to swallow nervously. Such displays of weakness in front of Riddle were never a good choice.
"I'll watch your group during the fire safety demonstration," Riddle told him, eyes hard and cold. "There's an errand you need to run."
"Of course" Barty said, just managing to check the "My lord". They were in public, and such acknowledgement's of Riddle's role would only create problems.
"The admissions office," Riddle told him, jaw set. "Harry's records. I want everything, no matter how irrelevant you think it is. Including his medical records. As soon as possible, of course, but his home address is a priority. In addition, I want you to start using our connections to find anything on the Dursley family. Dudley Dursley, age eighteen, Vernon Dursley, age forty-four, and Petunia Dursley nee Evans, age forty one. I already have people looking, but they should be able to narrow their searches with the information in Harry's file."
Barty blinked, doing his best to hide his shock. There had to be a point at which he got saturated. He knew that. Still, apparently, they hadn't reached it yet. Riddle had apparently been looking for Harry for quite some time. And using the connections of the Knights of Walprugis to do so.
Who the hell was this boy? What made him so important to Riddle?
"Of course," Barty said, nodding, mind already flicking through possibilities.
It was still before the start of the semester, which meant it would largely be staff and not student workers, which was unfortunate. The Knights had bribed and blackmailed enough of the work study students that during the school year it was simple enough to get access to what he needed. The staff would be a little trickier.
"What are you still doing standing here, Barty?" Riddle asked, voice cold.
Barty paled, but gave a small nod of apology, unable to bow in public, before turning on his heel and all but sprinting towards the administrative building. He kept up the pace the entire way - Riddle had eyes and ears everywhere, and Barty was terrified of crossing him on a normal basis. He suspected that doing so when it came to Harry would be nothing short of suicidal.
The administrative building appeared before him, all white brick and arches and black accents. Barty hustled up the steps and pushed the door open, only allowing himself to stop once he was in front of the elevator, waiting for it arrive.
He needed a plan. He needed a plan and he needed one quickly, if he wanted to avoid being punished for failing his lord. It wasn't just fear that motivated him, however. Riddle...Riddle had freed him. Riddle had taken one look at Barty and had seen what no one else had seen before - his unhappiness, his loneliness, the way he felt as if he had been crushed by his father, as if he were still being crushed. Every aspect of his life was controlled by the man, and Barty hated him with a passion. Still, Barty had no way to get out from under this thumb. Not while his mother was still married to the monster. Not while his father's name and money could close every door just as quickly as they'd been open.
Riddle had seen him, had somehow seen what he had been through. Riddle had offered Barty what no one else ever had before - freedom.
Harry.
Harry had been abused for years. Abused from a young age. Riddle had no doubt watched it and seethed, too young to really do anything.
Riddle had seen what he had seen because he'd learned to read the signs from Harry. Perhaps had saved helped him because he had been unable to save Harry.
If he was right...he owed Harry just as much as he owed Riddle.
He wouldn't fail.
The elevator doors opened to admissions, and Barty took a deep breath before making his way to the bench just outside the are sectioned off with half-windowed walls, pulling out his phone so as not to arouse suspicion. Pulling up his email just in case someone happened to look over his shoulder, Barty casually leaned back so that he could see into the room.
He couldn't help but smirk when he saw the name on the door of the newest admissions officer. It seemed his father had been excercising his influence again. This would be ridiculously easy.
He put his phone back in his pocket and made his way to the admissions office, stopping at the desk manned by a young woman he'd never seen before and giving her a charming smile.
Barty knew he was handsome. Not as handsome as Riddle, it was true. But he was more than capable of being charming when it mattered.
"Hello," he said, grinning down at her, watching as her eyes dilated and a subtle flush rose to her face. "Is Bertha in? Bertha Jorkens, I mean. She'd an old friend of the family, and when I heard she was going to be working here, I thought I'd stop by and pay her a visit."
"Let me just check," the girls said, flustered. A recent graduate if Barty didn't miss his guess. Barty might have flirted with her, perhaps dated her for awhile for her access. Still, with Bertha here, that would be unnecessary. "Sorry, what was the name."
"Bartemus Crouch," he said, using his full name, which he hated, and leaving off the suffix. No doubt she would think he was his father, which is exactly as he wanted it.
She picked up the phone and informed Bertha of his presence, and Barty could hear the screeching even from here as she urged the woman to hurry up and send him in already, why on Earth had she made him wait at all. He didn't bother trying to hide his smirk.
The woman hung up the phone, looking frazzled.
"You can go right in, Mr. Crouch," she told him.
"Thank you," Barty said with a smile before he made his way to Bertha's office.
He didn't bother knocking the door. His father never would have. Instead he barged right in on her before closing the door behind him and locking it. Bertha's face, which had been lit up a moment before, morphed to confusion as she looked back and forth between him and the locked door before almost visibly shrugging his behavior off.
God, the woman was stupid.
Stupid and nosy. Rather the perfect combination for the sort of things the Knights would need. Not to mention that Barty knew things that would absolutely ruin her should anyone find out. This was a boon on a number of levels.
"Hello, Barty," she said. "What a surprise. I was expecting your father."
"Apologies for the confusion," he said smoothly. "It happens more often than you'd think, what with us having the same name and all."
"Of course," she said. "Oh, do please sit down. It's been a long time since we had the chance to chat. Your father's Christmas party last year, wasn't it?"
Barty nodded, taking a seat in the chair across from the desk.
"Listen, Bertha, I was hoping you could do me a favor."
"Of course," she said, eyes dull and stupid as ever. "Anything for a Crouch."
Barty did his best not to be irritated by that fact. He was more than just his name, incredibly accomplished all on his own despite his father's interference. Still, the name would be useful in the future, opening all sorts of doors when he was head of the family.
"I was hoping you could get me the complete file of a student. A freshman, by the name of Harry Potter."
She gave a tittering laugh at that.
"Barty dear, your father may have gotten you this job, but even for you I really can't bend the rules that far."
"Are you certain? You seem to be an expert at bending rules. Why, wasn't it you who got a little too drunk in the wrong bar when you were working in my father's precinct and gave away all sorts of departmental information? And then somehow managed to blame it all on a poor rookie who ended up arrested for his part in destroying several operations and costing an undercover cop his life?"
It had been Peter Pettigrew, an ex-cop Riddle had somehow had in his pocket even before he was even inducted into the knights, let alone become their Lord. It was Riddle who had used the information, sharing it with interest parties, making connections and earning favors with an eye to the future.
Bertha had grown paler and paler with every word he said, and she was all but trembling behind her desk.
"It would be a shame," Barty said, leaning forward with crossed hands, "if my father were to hear about all that. Especially after he got you this job after you were asked to leave the station. Something about incompetence, I hear. Still, being his goddaughter will only take you so far."
"What was the name?" she asked, her face still ashen and her voice trembling.
"Harry Potter," Barty said, leaning back and crossing his legs, not bothering to hide his smirk. "Everything you have on him, please. If you could make photocopies as well, that would be ideal, since I need to take the file with me, and I imagine it might cause problems if it were missing."
Bertha hurried out, and Barty pulled out his phone with a smile on his face.
Got what you need, Barty typed, knowing that discression was the best move with text messages. And ran into Bertha Jorkins, an old family friend. Head of admissions, if you can believe it.
He received a reply almost immediately.
I look forward to hearing all about it. I'm certain you and Ms. Jorkins will have lots to chat about during the year.
Barty smirked and put his phone back in his pocket, just as Bertha returned, an enormous pile of papers in her hands.
"That's an unusually large file," Barty said, straightening up.
"Mr. Potter was an...unusual student, from the glimpses I got while copying the file," Bertha said, her voice still shaky. "Letter of recommendation from the local chief of police and the headmaster of his school, both quite long. And at least a third of this seems to be his medical records.
Barty held out his hand in a silent demanded for the papers, and Bertha practically dumped the large stack on him.
"I think I'll go ahead and skim these here, if that isn't a problem," Barty told her, arranging the files into some resemblance of order before placing them on his lap for easy perusal.
"Of course not. Feel free," she said. "I was planning to run out to get lunch. Of course, you can use the office as long as you need, Barty."
"Thank you, Bertha," he said, giving her a large smile. "I look forward to catching up again some time."
She gave him a grimace in response that was clearly supposed to be a smile, her face pale once again.
"I look forward to it," she said before she all but fled out the door.
Barty stood up crossed the room, making himself comfortable at Bertha's desk. He put the stack of papers down, thumbing through them and seperating out the medical file. It was alarmingly thick.
Bracing himself, Barty looked down at the first page.
Hospital records, starting when Harry was five. Broken bones. His arm, his wrist, his ribs, his nose, each of them more than once...all explained away. A clumsy, careless boy, the notes all said. According to the boy's Aunt. A picky eater. She was doing everything she could to try and get his weight up, did the doctor's have any suggestions.
It turned Barty's stomach. The patterned continued up through high school, as far as Barty could tell. No wonder Riddle wanted to find these people. Hell, Barty had known Harry all of one afternoon, and he wanted to find them himself.
Then, once high school started, the records changed. And not for the better. Harry had been admitted to the hospital at the end of his freashman year of highschool, and the notes that were attached were...alarming. He'd nearly died and had needed not one but two surgeries. Only luck and timing had kept him alive, if Barty was reading it right.
Most alarming of all, however, was the small number at the bottom. A police report. There was a police report associated with these injuries. Stomach turning, he jotted down the file number on a post-it note. Taking a deep breath, Barty turned the page. To his horror, he found another hospital file from the next year. Harry's hospitalization had only been for three days this time around, but once again there was a police report attached. Barty jotted the second number down below the first.
Bracing himself, Barty turned the next page and swore aloud when he saw yet another hospital report. If it was possible, it was even worse than all the rest, for all that the injuries were relatively minor. Still, the nature of the wounds was horrifying. Damage to Harry's hands from electrical shock. The file noted that Harry had apparently been beaten on the hands with a live wire that had a low level of current and amperage running through it. Low enough that to cause the damage and scaring they'd seen, he'd have to have been beaten with it repeatedly.
And yet again, there was a police report.
"God, Harry," Barty said burying his hands in his hair. "You're going to send him into a fucking rampage, and he's going to drag the rest of us after him."
Still, Barty wouldn't have to be dragged very hard. After seeing these files, he was contemplating a bit of a rampage himself. Anyone would.
Barty wrote down the third police report number on his now rather crowded post-it. Bracing himself, he turned over the last page.
Just a routine physical and vaccinations. Thank god.
Heaving a deep breath, Barty reached out and picked up the phone on Bertha's desk, the post-it in his hand. He had a ridiculous number of police contacts, what with his father having been the Chief of Police for several years before he made the move into politics. Barty would gather as much detail as possible before handing the information over to Riddle, or he would be sure to suffer in his role as messenger.
This was going to be a long two hours, and he was going to need every minute of them.
One thing was certain - Harry Potter was going to change everything.
Comments keep me going, and I'm having a rough time of it as of late, so if you have a minute I would love to know what you thought. Also, I promise we'll start getting into Harry's background next chapter.