Finders, keepers –The Prison of Truth
During his first year at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle-Black already made several foes and just as many allies. From the year above him, Bella Black was the one constantly out for him, and his housemate Quir was the one who normally went to get a prefect (or a teacher, or a ghost, or Peeves, or anyone he could find) to break up their duels. From his own year, he only had conflicts with two snobbish purebloods, but even those had only landed in the Infirmary for harassing their own half-blood housemates. Fighting was more of a Gryffindor habit -and he wasn't surprised when a boy nicknamed WW joined him, eager to learn new jinxes and counter-spells. WW was the first child of his parents, with five younger brothers and a baby sister, so his tendency to defend the defenseless could be explained away much like the stubbornness of an auror's honorary nephew's.
Next year, WW'soldest little brother, Charlie came to join their lose circle, followed by a brilliantly clumsy Hufflepuff metamorphmagus. That school year was made most memorable by a young Welsh green dragon someone smuggled to the corridor near the Gryffindor portrait entrance. That evening Tom learnt the hard way that Parseltongue is no more similar to dragon roar as classical Mandarin is similar to English, and his usual convincing charm was just as useless against the beast as Professor Warren's terrified screaming. Finally, it was the united Ravenclaw-Gryffindor quidditch team that managed to lure the dragon out of the castle, at the cost of several charred brooms, a few torched portraits, a beater's singed garment, and a few broken guardian statues. The last casualty was the whomping willow planted by the Shack Passage's entrance hole – the ignorant plant had taken offense of the young dragon flying too close, and the already agitated monster took out all his frustration on the branches whipping him.
Charlie decided then and there that he would work with dragons.
That same year, during the Easter holidays, Springscales' son Autumn slithered into Tom's travel trunk, which they both only noticed when said trunk was packed out in the Ravenclaw dormitory. It wasn't long before the young snake made himself home in the castle, however: he discovered he could slide through the water pipes that made a fine network all around the castle, and he made good use of his slim form. Having grown up with Harry, Autumn had more than once heard the story of a legendary Map that had been confiscated and locked inside Argus Filch's office. Once he had found the place (crumbled with various magical items) he started dragging everything, one by one, back to his human. The bathroom they used as Autumn's threshold was soon littered with Zonko's products, sheets of random old parchment, enchanted quills, and a self-shrinking cauldron, and then, one afternoon, just before exam week, the Marauder's Map was recovered. Tom and Autumn took it home to Godric's Hollow, both swelling with pride, and the snake decided he would accompany young Riddle-Black sometime again, despite being Harry's familiar by birth.
Before the third year, Son / Auror Potter had warned Tom and Idiot that blood purists had been blackmailing him, promising to bring a horrible curse on the extended family. Both Sirius and his adopted child gave their words to stay low and maintain constant vigilance. And they both did, although there wasn't an attack, not even a confrontation throughout the entire summer. But just as the year started, Tom got owl that Lily's muggle nephew, a boy mere weeks older than Harry, had been attacked by a werewolf, and although he survived, he had been infected with lycanthropy. The Potters spent the next month convincing the muggle father that denial wouldn't save him from the wolf that now lived within little Dudders. Still, it was only thanks to the timely interference of a dog and a stag that saved a shocked Vernon from his own son's deadly teeth. Remus offered to give up his well-paying job at the Peruvian plantation to help the young victim adapt; but Vernon insisted that, as a muggle, Dudley doesn't fall under the scope of the wizards' Werewolf Registry Act, and his life would be much safer if he continued to live without magical interference until the Wizarding World developed something more useful than just fear and disdain. Lily had to admit that Dudley's parents had a very valid point, and they already knew whom to ask for a warded cellar and potions for the days after. James, too, couldn't help but reluctantly agree with his in-laws' low opinion about the prejudiced wizardkind.
The year of Quir's OWL exams came. On the nights his closest ally had spent revising, Tom caught up on his reading. There was a new muggle novel he was very fond of: in a dystopian world, a brilliant child was humanity's only remaining hope, who also seemed to share a mind bond with the enemy. Tom's favorite character was the colonel who manipulated everything around the boy, until the so-called brilliant youngster unknowingly committed xenocide. In the end, the old one may have not been a hero, but he still qualified as the winner.
After Quir's OWL tests were finished, Tom asked Professor Flitwick if he could give a hand with his search for the last known Slytherin descendants. In the great book of the school's records, they found a vague description of a shack in the forest by Little Hangleton, from where all letters were returned unopened, or with the unfortunate owl's remains inside. Tom couldn't wait to uncover his true pedigree, and on the first day of the summer holidays, Sirius drove the motorbike to the gloomy village in Northern England.
Little Hangleton didn't appear like a wizard-inhabited village. Unlike Godric's Hollow, it centered around a foul-smelling pub, and the streets were littered in plastic. Men and women were wearing grey and brown clothing, almost all of them the same style. After the Wizarding World's colorful variety, Tom found the monotony frightening. But this was the place where his mother Merope Gaunt had originated from, and if his father Tom Riddle had indeed been a muggle, this could have been just the spot for them to meet. The curiosity he must have picked up with the 'real' Ravenclaws didn't let him rest, even if the parents' meeting would prove his cambion theory false.
Inside the village's central information-gathering hotspot (appropriately called the Hanged Man),Padfoot and his adoptee engaged in an impromptu drinking game with the few local patrons: Sirius offered a free round, then paid for an extra drink to all those who started eyeing Tom like they'd already seen that face somewhere.
The two wizards exchanged a glance much more sober than it would have been possible after their many drinks. Many of the older villagers had voiced how his appearance was similar to that of the old squire in his youth, and some wererude enough to start a betting pool if he was an illegitimate grandson of the old man.
The two parselmouths offered the muggles a round of their usual spirits, and the younger one introduced himself as Thomas Black. This was the same name he had used when he had owled the orphanage – when facing his own past, he preferred the safe background being a Black had offered. He guessed he was not cut out with Gryffindor courage.
Just an elbow further, two elderly muggles were loudly discussing the 'sad adventure of a marriage' the old squire once had had.
"Did he also have a child?" Sirius asked, sipping brandy from his glass, only blinking at them for a moment. Then, much more quietly he hissed, "Their sssspirit tasssstessss like fermented sssssoil."
"Not worsssse than itssssssdrinkerssss," Tom grimaced. Their whispered exchange passed without any of the villagers noticing. They were too busy sharing 'I told you' looks.
"Another round for these nice people!" Sirius demanded. Of the two of them, he appeared to be the less tipsy. Next to him, Riddle-Black was having some stomach issues, although the muggles couldn't have known its true reason were the three whole bezoars he had previously swallowed to avoid intoxication. All there was to be seen from the outside was a careless young man dragging along his underage friend for some prohibited fun. To this, the pub's patrons could relate better than they would have reacted to a story of a child who spent four years in a London orphanage, then was time-displaced because of a Ritual of Responsibility Placement.
"Old Rickety Riddle? Nahhh!" the bushiest man laughed.
"One marriage was more than enough for him. Ha ha!"
"Left her after a few months. Really, I envy him! No wife, no child, no problem!"
"The world is better off without yet another of him!"
"We most certainly are!"
"This round's on me!" a villager offered. "For the good joke, my gentlemen!"
Sirius accepted the drink, but saw that Tom was hesitating. "To sssssstupidity that issssn't limited by lacking magic," he offered to his adopted son quietly.
Tom rolled his eyes, and downed his next glass without thinking. The three bezoars had dried his stomach painfully, so at least he made sure to use them to the top of their capacity.
So, he wasn't a cambion. And these men must have known both his parents. Blood parents, he immediately corrected the inner statement. His true family were Sirius Orion Black, Springscales, and some select few belonging to either of the two.
"It'ssssdisssgusssting how they ssssspeak about my blood father jusssst to sssssee if I take offenssssse on hissss behalf. To sssssee if we're related, sssso that they can feed their gosssssipmillssss," he sighed.
"Mugglesssss being Ssssslytherinssss," Padfoot replied with the same quiet tone of hiss. "Sssssomehow that makessss me itch to prank ssssome of them."
Tom forced a smile on his face. It would be so unlike Sirius to leave a pub without chaos in his wake. But what did Springscales tell him? Food, time, water, heat, magic, the one he could never remember, and…. knowledge. Knowledge is what he was here for, not pranks. "Whom did he leave after a few months?" he asked aloud.
"There was a creepy hen with a postman's eyes… you got it, right? One eye on the envelope, the other on the street number, that's what a postman's eyes look like, ha!"
"Yes, it's really funny."
"So there was that thing, living in the forest."
"The entire family was like that. Cavemen!"
"Yeah, cavemen! Somehow, Miss Postman-Eyes got Rickety Tom to marry her. Then they moved, to London, if memory serves me right. It wasn't maybe half a year later that Rickety Tom came back, but by then, his fiancée dumped him for good."
"For a while, he kept babbling about Crooky-Eyes feeding him something, he said love potion, but really – no magic in the world could have made any man to consider taking the daughter of that caveman to bed! Much less, marry her! Ha ha!"
"Next round's on me!" another villager shouted, banging his mug on the counter, not for the first time. His tone earned him a long growl from an animagus, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Lacking mannerssss," Tom also remarked. The two of them couldn't pretend to be more drunk than that muggle was for real.
While the drinks were handed out, Sirius whispered, "Sssssothissssisss the time to find out the fate of the lasssst but one Ssssslytherinssss."
"Was she called Merope Gaunt?" Tom asked, very sober all at once. A 'yes' or a 'no' would decide whether he was really not a cambion. His father, the Tom Riddle who was not called Marvolo, was a muggle and this information had been confirmed already. If the caveman family the villagers were talking about were the last of Slytherin… then, well, he'd made the right choice to distance himself from the family and the House. He was a Marauder. He was a Black. He was not a decrepit blood purist!
"Gaunt, that's what they were. I recall one Morfin."
"Man, if you can imagine someone uglier than Merope, that was him. He died about fifteen years ago."
"That. He stopped growling at us like a rabid beast, so I'm sure he must have dropped."
There was a pause. Tom was about to ask Padfoot what sort of prank would be the worthy treatment of these creatures, and leave the Hanged Man as fast as they could. He had heard enough. He was the son of an especially weak willed muggle and catastrophic witch, and apparently both of whom had had the social skills of a gargoyle. But he had been conceived like any other wizard or muggle, not through interference by malevolent lust-daemons. Just an offspring of two worthless humans: a misguided muggle and an inbred Slytherin.
"Thankssssss for being there for me," he whispered to Padfoot.
"I promisssed to come along. It'sssss OK."
"Thankssss for being my family."
Sirius looked into his adopted son's eyes, wondering if the cheap muggle drinks got through the bezoars, after all. Never in the past ten years had Tom expressed true gratitude, nor had he acknowledged that Padfoot could have easily passed him to someone else to raise. Tom had odd skills and odd quirks, never liked displays of emotions, no, he was independent to the core. Sirius had long since accepted him this way, just like he had accepted Remus' mood swings that came with him being a werewolf. Discovering his own background must have hit something deep in his adopted son. With a million feelings in his eyes, Idiot replied, "Thankssss for the same."
The guy with the habit to bang his mug moved to do it again. In perfect sync, the two wizards pointed their wands at him under the table, casting a cushioning charm on the mug so that it could never be banged on anything again, and on the counter so that nothing would ever be banged on it.
There was a moment of silence and confusion, as if expecting the others to start the conversation anew. A man of about Padfoot's age started coughing in the corner, not yet used to the amount of alcohol he had taken in the past hour. An aged one started whistling an off-key melody.
Apparently, the improvised gossip session was over. But just when the two wizards were about to stand up from their high chairs, the bartender huffed, "In his last few years, that Morfin gruff kept saying what a wonderful stone was getting lost with him."
"I saw it too! It was a shapeless black thing, with an angular eye carved on it."
Tom sat back immediately. "An angular eye?"
"He gurgled that it was the Stone of Death! Like such a thing exists!"
Now Sirius straightened as well. "Maybe we should go now. Gentlemen, thank you for the company."
"But…" his adopted son started. It was just about to get interesting!
"Tom, I said, we must go!" Sirius insisted, then stormed out of the Hanged Man, no longer bothered to uphold the image of a drunken muggle. Cheap spirit was never enough to hold him down, and along with his stepson, he had also taken bezoars, although not as many.
"Go where?" Tom asked.
Padfoot already turned the motorbike in the direction of the supposed Gaunt shack."Please don't ask why, but I am certain, at least one of the Deathly Hallows exists for real. And if that one does, so might the Stone of Resurrection."
"You talk like you didn't expect me to figure out Son's cloak," Tom pointed out as he hastily took his usual place on the vehicle.
Never again did either of them visit Little Hangleton's dirty pub, and not once did they talk about the ring Tom MarvoloRiddle-Black had removed from a long-dead person's finger bones.
-?-
As much as Siriusly Enchanted Objects prospered, Tom preferred his own belongings to be wizard-made from the start. Even with many Ravenclaws using muggle inventions (a habit none of the other houses had picked up, showing just why the blue house was the only one for the mentally talented) a pencil with rubber end or a wallet with hook-and-loop would have gained enough attention to have them checked more thoroughly. An inkwell, on the other hand, was the least suspicious item in a wizard's pocket, and security spells around it didn't require any explanation, either.
The inside of the tiny jar had been customized entirely by its owner, however. Tom had started with the undetectable expansion charm, with the same modification the vanishing machines' doors all had: Tom had long since dubbed it the 'conical expansion charm'.When they had been working on the Vanishing Machines, the tricky part was to bring the magic forward, so that the ingoing item (or an escaping human) would be relatively shrinking before he reached the door. This time, Tom applied an additional variant of the spell, so that the pot's stopper still covered the glass's mouth entirely. There were additional cushioning charms on both the inside and the surface, and of course the anti-fracture protection the jar came with. If a wizard screwed out the cork, it even worked as a regular inkwell, only revealing its magic if the user pulled the cork out without any lateral moves.
On the enlarged inside, Tom had a magically heated habitat for Autumn to sleep in, although the young snake only used the inkwell when it was too cold for him on the outside. Embedded in the sand was a set of vials with the most important first aid potions, as well as a fistful of Peruvian instant darkness powder and a small notebook with a ballpoint pen. Tom still needed his Siriusly Enchanted pocket knife to have access to his school trunk (the one time he left it unlocked in the Ravenclaw dormitory, it immediately fell victim to his yearmates' curiosity) but Padfoot was generous enough to provide him a second one. Since his original knife was number seven, Sirius numbered the new one 7/2 and thus the old one became 7/1.
In September, it was the 7/1 knife that opened the door of the second floor's bathroom, as the lock had been spelled not to let in boys. Following Autumn's instructions, the last of the Slytherins found the snake marking, and a few hours later added the Chamber of Secrets to the Marauders' Map. On the precious parchment, a thick line of ink marked the hidden room's one and only, thousand-year-old inhabitant.
Just a few days later Tom also got the opportunity to get the entire Chamber scrubbed clean. As the place had been part of the castle's drainage system since the eighteenth century, and the basilisk had been hunting various pets and lake inhabitants, the corridors surrounding the Chamber had quite the odor. So, when WW alerted him that 'baby blood purists' were harassing muggleborns for not knowing a single household charm, Tom didn't hesitate before providing Bella and her cronies an opportunity to show off their own cleaning skills. He even altered their memories to believe it was Filch who gave them the detention. The tricky part was getting the basilisk out before he would have glared the unwilling cleaning staff to death.
The old beast was a real piece of work. His species was named 'the king of snakes' for the red crest that resembled a crown if one squinted hard enough (which perhaps nobody ever did, at least not on a living basilisk, as the crest was too close to those deadly yellow eyes) and the animal was more than aware of his title. While the unwilling cleaning staff was working, Tom spent an entire hour locked up in one of the girl's toilet stall, because the wash-basins' area was full with mirrors, duplicating the number of directions the beast could stare in to finish his boy. 'His royal majesty'was anything but a malleable familiar, and took the opportunity to berate him for abandoning his heritage, for befriending blood traitors, and for keeping only one puny servant in the person of Autumn. It was beyond Tom to explain that 1, his heritage was nothing to be proud of; 2, never had he befriended anybody, blood traitor or not; and 3, Autumn was not his servant, more like a fr… All right, he admitted that he had to reconsider the second point.
The minutes crawled by, and Tom was sitting in the locked toilet stall, with closed eyes, just to be safe. He was a Slytherin by birth, Ravenclaw by choice, and despite being raised by Gryffindors he wouldn't have taken unnecessary risks. Except for having already lured the huge snake out of the pipe system so that some confunded pureblood children could clean out its usual hiding spot.
Through the basilisk's haughty hissing, he barely heard the voice of somebody looking for the three disappeared 'noble heirs'. He cracked his eyes open just enough to blink at the Map in his hands, not trusting the gigantic serpent to be glaring elsewhere. And not even the Map was helping, as it didn't show any names approaching, and Tom only had half a minute to realize why. That voice belonged to the Bloody Baron, Helena Ravenclaw's old boyfriend and killer. The old ghost had it out for Tom ever since he had ridiculed Bella Black the first time. The only joy the young man found in the situation was that the serpent and the spectre had no common language.
Unlike young Riddle-Black, the Baron had no need for an all-opening knife, he merely glided through the closed door into the bathroom. Tom heard his threatening voice, "If I find you're behind this again, Riddl…"
There was an odd silence before Tom whispered, "I'm Riddle-Black," and his statement got no reply.
"That'sssss funny," His Royal Majesty the basilisk noted after a while. 'I thssssssought the dead can't turn to sssstone."
"WHAT?" Tom jumped up, marching out of the toilet stall, but remembering to close his eyes before reaching the sinks.
He crashed into something cold, wind-like; solid and nonexistent at the same time. The basilisk noted that 'sssssomebodydoubtsssss my sssstrengthssss', but he was talking to himself, or so Tom guessed. Centuries of loneliness might do that to a royalty.
The kid lifted up a hand, trying to make out the form of whatever he had hit. It could be a ghost, after all. Who else could that be?
"You killed a dead ghossssst?" Tom queried.
"I turned him to ssssstone. Living humansssss don't ssssurvive it."
"Jussssst great, your modesssss thighnessss," the wizard replied, his eyes still closed. Now he had to find a way to get rid of a petrified spectre, pull the little purebloods out of the Chamber (which they hopefully had cleaned by now), confund them again so that they'd still believe it was Filch, and make sure everybody gets back to their dorms. Yet again, he cursed Rowena Ravenclaw for placing the blue dormitory in one of the highest towers.
And then, just as Tom was considering the possibilities, he heard voices, this time two females. Consequently, both had to be capable of entering the bathroom men had been banished from, which could have been foreboding if they are alive at the moment.
"How am I ssssssuppossssed to exssssplain what I'm doing in the girl's ssssbathssssroom at ten in the evening, with a basssssilissssk and a dead ghossssst in my company?"
"You're not worthssssssy of my ideassssss, you puny sssssservant of blood traitorssss and mudbloodsssss."
"Not that I exsssspected any help, your majessssty," Tom's hiss was irritared.
To make things worse, he recognized the voices by now. The newcomers were two women of his own house, both of whom could be checking the bathroom for female students: the ghost Helena Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady, and the living Professor Myrtle Warren, the Defense teacher. Tom wished he had more success with the disillusionment charm, so that he could disguise himself when things went -thought, he stopped. He had yet to practice making his own self invisible, but was that what he needed in this situation?
The royally lofty snake let out a hiss of surprise when he felt something soft spreading up his body, and he was shocked beyond measure when, irritated by the boy's insolence, he turned around to stare him to death, only to get his mouth tied shut with a binding spell.
"That'ssss for trying to kill me, your illusssstriousss highnesss," the young wizard said, looking fearlessly in the direction where the visible spell-ropes were crawling on the head of the now camouflaged snake. "Now ssssstay put and keep your ssssecretssss."
That idea didn't appeal to the basilisk. His mouth tied, he tried in vain to bite Slytherin's unworthy descendant who had the audacity to disillusion him. Ramming the boy was his next idea, only to be hit with a badly-aimed petrifying spell. The perks of invisibility – he escaped a direct hit but wasn't in the mood to appreciate the irony. Tom Riddle-Black, however, only had time to lock himself in a toilet stall yet again, before Professor Warren walked in, chatting with the Grey Lady about some DADA assignments she had to mark this evening. Spotting the oddly moving spell-ropes that seemingly tied themselves around nothing, but still hissing horrible insults at the teacher, Myrtle Warren just shook her head and opted for the stall farthest from the strange phenomenon. While she was using the loo, Helena Ravenclaw suddenly yelped in surprise, and Tom remembered too late that there also was a petrified Baron in the bathroom, a sightLady Ravenclaw obviously didn't miss.
"What is it, Helena?" Professor Warren asked, while (the only one that night!) she was using the toilet for the purpose it was originally intended for.
"I'm just having a good day, what's wrong with that?" the Grey Lady replied.
It was only much later that Tom got into bed that night, but he had earned a new ally that evening in the person of his chosen house's ghost. He had cast a permanent sticking charm on one of the stall doors, one behind which the Lady had dragged her late love interest, and they agreed never to talk about what had happened.
-?-
As any proper Ravenclaw, Riddle-Black took his OWL year seriously. He checked the essays WW and his younger brothers had written for their classes. He had huge tomes at hand always, including that memorable time he had caught Bella Black drawing blood from a firstyear for some ritual. Autumn kept an eye on the Map for him so that he could focus on his studies while patrolling like all prefects were supposed to do in the night. He cast a wandless silencing charm and continued reading when WW's twin brothers had spilled a liquid firecracker in the library.
He also read through the night he had spent by Idiot's bed at St. Mungo's. There had been a battle, at one of the safe houses or so he had heard, and Padfoot had taken the wash machine network to bypass the anti-apparation spells. Son was meant to follow him, but was held up by the Head of Department. It took Prongs only two seconds to punch the senior auror out of the way, but by the time he had arrived at the scene, Sirius had already been cursed half-dead by the purists.
Coughing up some bile and wrapped in bandages from head to toe, Sirius looked at him.
"Nice of you to come."
"I can't trust Crouch to have this room guarded. I could as well take you back to the Lestrange brothers."
"So were they identified?"
"Thicknesse had dropped that name to Son, who knew better than to ask for clarification." Taking his adoptive father's grunt as a polite request to continue, he added, "The McKinnons had moved to Hogsmeade, as hiding doesn't seem to be any good to them. They're preparing to leave for the States, despite all their conflicts with the MACUSA."
"Yes, in their shoes I wouldn't mind how awkward that will be," Sirius levitated a glass of butterbeer (fire whiskey was not allowed in the ward) to his mouth before continuing, "when the President and her ex's new family meet."Then he gave a very displeased sound, and grimaced, "Gauze-flavored beer. And I thought I was through the worst."
Tom stayed that night, standing guard and presumably keeping any attackers away. Lily took the day shift, while Tom grabbed some food and shared his thoughts with James.
The auror had spent the last day under his Cloak of Invisibility, searching his superiors' offices and following unsuspecting people on the Ministry's corridors. By the weekend he had a long list of purists, and wished to consult with the Black side of his family to decide whom to track on Saturday.
"I miss Peter, he was the best with this sort of thing."
Idiot and his adoptee exchanged looks. Peter had disappeared months before, and only the two of them had been told where and why. With a grimace, Tom said, "If I could tell you where he is, I would."
"Why in Merlin's name did you use a SNAKE as secret-keeper, Parsel?" James exploded. "Only so that nobody with a normal vocabulary can be told?"
Tom nodded. "Safety first. He had been spying for years, he was due to be discovered once. He's safe and well, that's all I can tell you."
Sirius stirred under his many bandages, and made a threatening growl at his adopted son's words. Yes, Peter was safe and well, after having been discovered to have been playing the double game. The little rat had been given a choice, whether he wanted to stay in Wizarding Britain or to take an Unbreakable Oath to search for Ravenclaw's diadem and never return without it. To make the first option less appealing, Tom took the Secret 'Peter Pettigrew had changed sides to the blood purists' under an especially tough Fidelius charm, placing it in the soul of an unusually intelligent snake he had befriended a few days prior. She only revealed the secret to Padfoot before she went her own sweet way. Now the purists would have no way to remember that their targets' childhood friend was now on their side. That had made espionage on their behalf a VERY improbable option for Wormtail.
James straightened on the visitor's seat, and showed the list of known purists or their allies.
"My brother, right?" Sirius sighed. "He's one."
"Pretty much all the ancient houses have a member here," Tom noted. "Look here, even Prince, and the pure line had died out years ago."
"Then how is it on the list? Do you plan to chase all the ghosts, James?"
"You can't see from your bed, but Parsel is pointing at Snivellus's name. He's the last known scion."
"But muggle-raised," Sirius argued. "Why would the purists take him in?"
"Maybe for his potions?" James said. "That's Lily's best guess."
"But Lily has a muggle background, and very little insight," Parsel argued. "I think the key is the Wizengamot. Even an unpure can represent his House if there's no better at hand. Pass me that list… Yes, Crouch is the first name here, but the senior or the young one?" Not waiting for an answer, Tom continued. "Most noble houses missing from the purists' ranks are either on the verge of extinction, or, like you, in the line of fire anyway. Creepy. Say, all these witches and wizards, in theory, had done something Unforgivable that got documented in the archives. One sweep of apolitical cleanse, like what some are already advocating for, and these all land in Azkaban. One drastic change like a new Minister… and the Wizengamot is cut in half."
"Merlin," Sirius moaned. "Anybody of the remaining families could fill it up with their own lackeys."
"Entire families could be wiped out," Son glared.
"So refrain from the castrating charm in the next duels, Prongs." Idiot lifted a bandaged hand to give his adopted son a thumbs-up. "It's great to have the Slytherin descendant on our side, Tom."
Tom hissed back that he couldn't have left the Gryffindors to their own devices."You're my ressssponssssibility," he added.
-?-
Despite the glooming conflict and several other attacks, the rest of the Hogwarts schoolyear went as normal as it was supposed to. Meanwhile, Son was almost killed securing a Head ofDepartment's new house with Ministry-approved wards, but (despite Bagman's claims that it was unnecessary) he had been wearing gloves when he had collected the old runestones and so, only his garment caught fire from the cursed pebble. The Ministry, of course, had written it down as residual magic left by the former owners. Bagman had claimed that it was the accident he was shocked over, not Son's survival. (He had been irritated, however.)
With Harry no longer taking up all her time, Lily rejoined a secret charity organization led by her childhood friend Dorcas Meadowes. She spent several hours each day in muggle hospitals, casting healing spells from under her husband's cloak or handing out potions disguised as the local nurse. Of course the Ministry would have sent both women to Azkaban if it ever got out, but considering the pain the purists had caused to families of muggleborn witches and wizards, Lily reasoned it was only fair to provide some magical help. She never told about it to anyone, however, least of all Severus Snape, whom she met almost every time she went shopping for potion ingredients.
Confined to his room until he was in a shape to defend himself again, Sirius had developed a set of emergency wands. These all shared a zouwu's mane hairlines as their cores, but the outer layer could be anything from bamboo chopsticks through pencils to trellises of potted plants. The smell of a preparing draught had filled Godric's Hollow whenever he was soaking the non-magical wood in it for an entire week, but he was quite satisfied with the results: the one-use wands could be hidden anywhere in plain sight, and they were so weak in magic that the Expelliarmus spell didn't recognize them as 'arms'. They often left bite marks on their wielders' hands, however, and obviously they were nowhere near a real wand's strength or accuracy, but a panicked wizard who'd been assaulted in his home would still rather use one of these than attempt wandless magic, or reasoning with an attacker. Prongs, however, had voiced his concerns that any crime could be committed with a single-use wand and the culprit's real one would never prove their masters' guilt under a Priori Incantatem. He'd stocked up of them, however, and Padfoot guessed he had done so for exactly that reason.
Tom got stellar marks for his OWL practicals, then, early July, received a howler for what he had done to his DADA essay sheet. In his opinion: knowing the Ministry, there was good chance the exam texts would be marked by worthless bookworms who never saw a werewolf in their lives (the main essay's given topic was lycanthropy) and never got any own experience with anything truly Dark. Consequently, they were unworthy to judge his knowledge. The hex he had put on the essay parchment was a fine piece of art, however, and a proper curse-breaker must have found it inquiring. In the Ministry's opinion: the 'thrice-damned fifthyear' sent half the education staff to Mungo's. Subsequently, Tom wouldn't be allowed to continue DADA class, for which the bespectacled woman was rather grateful. Sirius fused the howler's remaining pieces, and, along with the infamous essay sheet, hanged it on the wall in a photo frame. Tom was his son in all but blood, and now nobody would argue that statement.
After the twelfth anniversary of Tom's arrival to Godric's Hollow, which more or less stood for a sixteenth birthday, Sirius took his adopted child for a tour in the Alps. Not to Austria, as Padfoot put it: not yet, because Tom still had his Trace. Sirius knew what destination was on his adopted son's mind, however, and he promised to prepare him for getting into the place that would, by humungous strong wards, repel any sort of magical transportation.
So they went mountaineering.
Despite still lamenting about the numerous stairsteps to Ravenclaw Tower every other day, Tom not complained once when he had to climb three hundred meters on an icy and almost vertical hillside with only a muggle sit harness, a pair of crampons on his boots, and Sirius belaying him with a nylon rope in one hand and his wand in the other. Their excessive use of dittany marked some memorable learning experiences. When moving upwards no longer presented a challenge to them, they started jinxing each other mid-pitch. First there was just an occasional tickling hex while the other was sticking a bolt anchor, but that quickly escalated into full duels and often ended with one or both wizards drinking skele-gro after decking.
The first few days they used heating charms and slept through the night in bivouacs, but by the end of the week they decided muggle-style climbing was too easy and that nighttime was the perfect opportunity to besiege a summit with only a few meters of conjured rope, some sticking charms, and, occasionally, repairing or transfiguring the broken pieces of equipment that other climbers had left behind. Tom discovered an ascender in the thick ice, and wouldn't rest until he retrieved it, determined to charm it and set it to better use on the outside wall of his House's tower.
On a more relaxing day, they returned to the muggle world, curious to try other, less tiring means of transportation. Something must have got lost in translation, however, because their guide directed them to a via ferrata route. This misunderstanding led to them learning or discovering a number of new spells, including one that reverses gravity around any given portion of a cable.
Those were, they agreed, the best two weeks any wizard could ask for with a muggle way of entertainment.
Wizarding Britain didn't welcome them back with the best of news. James, who was only sticking to his position as an auror so that he could keep an eye on the Ministry's inner workings, was hit by a bleed-out hex while searching a suspect's house under his Cloak of Invisibility. He had almost died before his partner had found him. Lily, who was only in St Mungo'sat the time for advice on her 'guerilla healer' activism, found him still anemic on a hospital bed. Yet James insisted that she secured the Cloak before fetching a blood replenisher.
Later, it took him two months to cajole his heritage back from wherever his wife had hidden it.
-?-
After the adventures in the summer break, sixth year was a quiet one. Without DADA, and with Quir too busy with all the NEWTs he intended to take, Tom found himself just staring out at the Forbidden Forest or talking to Salazar's basilisk about random books he had read. Gazing up at the darkened, very still form of the petrified Bloody Baron, Tom wondered what he would have become without Padfoot as his family, Prongs as his moral compass, without Peter's constantly underestimated resourcefulness, or Moony's cheer. The snake insisted he would have become more powerful, not held back by Gryffindors around him. But, as Tom pointed out, power doesn't correlate with happiness, especially not when the cost is to put up with Slytherins24/7. His Royal Highness questioned his loyalty to his, as the snake called it, 'true family' one last time before sliding down the sewer pipe to the Chamber, swearing that he would bite his master's heir if he dares to bother him again.
Springscales reassured Tom, in a mail written down by Sirius, that no snake should be expected to offer their loyalty to any human just because they are family. In fact, the oldest ones still claim to remember when all of 'humanity'consisted of only one man and his one Eve. How could anyone expect to be treated differently from another person, if they all are descendants of the same couple?
Sirius's own remark followed in the same letter: if the Genesis had any truth to it, then the first humans both had to be parselmouths. Admittedly, he didn't know what to make of this realization.
Tom soon wrote back that he had done some research with Quir in the topic in the Restricted Section. There might have been a time when the entire humanity could talk to the snakes, but from the first documented centuries, there were only two known wizards gifted with the ability. One was Asclepios, the healer who had offered to bring Orion back from the dead and was promptly killed for his troubles, then placed on the night sky for all aspiring healers to see. The other was Herpo the Foul, whose life was marked by three discoveries: the first horcrux ever made, the first basilisk ever created, and the tragic realization that the former doesn't make a good match with the venom of the latter. As Tom stated, he didn't want to know which loser was he closer related to.
To answer that question anyway, when he got home for Samhain, Sirius welcomed him with the Ophiuchus constellation charmed on their living-room's wall.
"Because of his rash courage?" the teen queried, amazed by the tiny glowing stars. It truly was a great constellation, and he suspected that the pattern on the wall was enchanted to follow the position of the real stars, just like the Astronomy Tower's ceiling. Currently on the opposite wall, the Canis maior was known to slowly move the same way.
"Because, if history repeats itself within a family, then you must be related to him through Cadmus Perevell," Sirius replied.
Tom immediately clutched his fingers on the enchanted inkwell he had always carried in his inner pocket. "I understand," he said in a solemn voice.
-?-
Winter and springtime came and went, the last school term for Quir and Bella. Except for a weekend after he officially reached seventeen, Tom Marvolo Riddle-Black had an uneventful time, a quiet before the storm. It still felt wrong when, in June, Professor Flitwick yelled the usual "Quirrel! Riddle-Black!" for the last time. Come September, it would be reduced to "Riddle-Black" only. They had made a good team together.
Oddly enough he realized he would also miss Bella Black. The last time their wands clashed, somebody from the background shouted "Just kiss already!" Bella, with her trademark reflexes, immediately replied, "I'd sooner kiss a dementor!" And that was it, the next time he saw her was on the Hogwarts Express, on her way to a new life where the school's Founding Act wouldn't protect her from the consequences of being an adult.
-?-
Tom was staring at the Map that now only showed Albus Dumbledore, Argus Filch, Myrtle Warren, and very few ghosts on the Hogwarts grounds. Even Peeves seemed to have gone on a holiday. The Headmaster's and the caretaker's presence could be explained, they both lived there. But what was the Defense teacher doing in the broom cupboard? Surely she couldn't be secretly picking a broom for a leisure flight? Yes, the entire set was brand new, thanks to the Department of Magical Games and Sports finally taking pity on the firstyears and replacing all the old brooms with Nimbus-1800s. But Professor Warren never showed any interest in flying.
"What makessss you ssssso upssssset?"
He looked up from the old parchment just as Harry sat down on the bed next to him. In the boy's neck, as usual, hang Autumn, with Springscales using his leg as a ladder, her head already reaching the pillow.
"Jusssst sssssomething refusssesss to make ssssenssse," Tom pointed at the sheet. "Thissss teacher hasss no busssinesss with the ssssschoolbroomssss."
Harry set Autumn on the pillow next to his mother, and looked at him with intense green eyes. "It'ssss good you're here. My wolf coussssin jussst went home two dayssss ago, but he'ssss not assss nice to talk to."
Tom frowned, remembering the waxing gibbous he'd seen the night before. The full moon would be in two days. What was Dudley Dursley doing in a mixed-abilities villagewhen he was fully human?
Seeing him frown, Harry explained, "Hissss dad'sss ssissster wassss vissssiting them. Dudley hatessss that sssssisssster'sssss dogssss."
"And that walrusssss of a father won't bother to exssssplain that he'sssss a werewolf," Tom nodded. He still remembered the first time he had visited Lily's muggle sister and the man who later married her. Vernon had always been fun to anger even with the most harmless magic. Petunia was jealous over the gift only her sister was worthy of. But they had tried to live a normal muggle life, and pretended quite convincingly that all was well. Dudley had been visiting his maternal aunt once in every month, was there any problem with that? (Apart from their faces turning purple at the mention of said aunt, or her family.)
But really, Tom had to admit this was the best for Dudders. Ever since he'd received the bite, he'd been with at least one adult animagus for every full moon, escaping most of the symptoms that come from being locked up and/ or alone for those critical few hours. Furthermore, thanks to the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, other muggles weren't likely to pick up the clues, and even if they would, Tom doubted their reaction would be half as bad as those of a random, undereducated wizard. As for Son and Idiot, they enjoyed the continued excuse to roam free in their animal forms once a month, and had little to fear that the muggles would carelessly drop their illegal ability to a Ministry that largely ignores their kind.
"Who issss that?" Harry suddenly asked, pointing at the still active Map in front of his twice-adopted relative. "The name issss familiar."
"A halfblood purissst," Tom replied with a grimace. "Once he wassss bessst friendssss with your mom, but by now he offered hissss wand to thosssse trying to kill your parentssss. And a Potionssss Masssster. He issssss the reasssson why you should never eat or drink anythssssing that wasssssn't well guarded."
The seventeen- and the nine-year-old both turned back to the parchment, rubbing their heads with a frown.
"Sssso let'sssss do ssssomethsssing to him," Autumn suggested, abandoning his spot on the pillow.
"Yessss. Pleasssse?" Harry looked into the older one's eyes as well.
"You ssssstay home," Tom strictly stated. "Don't you get a detention two yearssss before you'd ssssstart Hogwartssss."
Harry gave a disappointed nod. Two more years before he could follow in Tom's footsteps.
Satisfied, the teen marched to Padfoot's workshop, declaring, "I need the bike, but I'll be back before dinner. Mischief calls."
-?-
Autumn slipped out of the inkwell, and hissed at the ghost who was talking to his allied human. As it appeared to the young snake, the lady was making Tom paler with each sentence. "What issss it, Parsssel?" he demanded to be told. The plan was to find Severus Snape, distract him, then get to his potion box and see what they can find. Changing any phial of Veritaserum for plain tapwater was one of the options, for example.
"Lady Helena sssssayssss Professssssor Warren isssss under the Imperiusssss," Tom translated. "She hassss taken the new ssssschoolbroomsss and gave them to the purisssstssss whossssec amp issss in a cottage jussssst over Hogsssssmeade." The young man then exchanged a few more words with the long-dead woman, then continued, "Thosssse are marked asss sssssschool property and their arrival doessss not trigger the wardssss. Besidessss, the Headmasssster is taking a bathsssss now." He opened the Map, and consulted it with the Grey Lady watching over his shoulder. The names of Bartemius Crouch, Druella and Bellatrix Black, Lucius Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange were moving up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, with Severus Snape as the foregoer so that any curse or trap would hit him, not the purebloods.
"He musssst be the target," Autumn stated, nodding his head towards Dumbledore's office.
"That'ssss more than obvioussss," Tom replied.
"But we can get there firsssst," Autumn continued, and that, apparently, was new to his human ally.
"How?"
"Exsssspanding the water pipessss, and a bubblehead sssspell for bothssss of usss," Autumn explained. "If the water isssss ssssstill running, we can go in rather fasssst. Meanwhile they will have to passsss all the security charmssssss."
-?-
Peeking out from the showerhead, Autumn hissed for his partner to break the pipe and come through. Dumbledore was getting robed in the nearest room, not a sight Tom couldn't live without.
By the time he was done with wordlessly repairing the tube and drying up the pool of spilled hot water, the Headmaster was sitting in an enormous armchair, putting his halfmoon-shaped eyeglasses on, an important-looking letter in his other hand.
Tom cast a drying charm on himself.
The professor scanned the letter for curses or authenticity marks, put his wand back in his robe's pocket, and started to open the envelope.
The door to his office burst open, an in rushed Bella Black, the potioner following her like a lackey. Dumbledore didn't even have time to draw his wand again, a reductor spell blew up his table. The explosion sent the old man flying across his room, and he crashed into a warded statue of marble and granite.
Bellatrix laughed.
Severus Snape drew his wand.
"Ssssstay in cover," Tom hissed, and straightened up, partially still soaked.
Bellatrix noticed her rival and accused him of trying to defend the old coot.
"Nothing could be further from the truth," Riddle-Black declared. "But I have my own reason to come and defeat him myself."
Hearing that, the wizard with blooded white hair and broken half-moon spectacles, stirred in the corner. From the angle his lower body was in, Tom guessed he had suffered some spinal damage from crashing into the warded stone.
"You have always manipulated everyone around you, Headmaster!" Tom cried out loud. "YOU USED US AS IF WE WERE CHESS PIECES!"
"Tom…" the old wizard whispered. "My boy, Tom."
Lucius Malfoy and Barty Crouch entered the room. It was the senior auror, not the known extremist son of his.
"PEOPLE TRUSTED YOU, HEADMASTER!" Tom continued, as if he hadn't seen the newcomers. "And what did you give them in return? Mundungus is dead! Your other spy, Peter? I had to save him when he was found out! I had to get the werewolf job for Remus, because all you cared about were the bits of news he would deliver from the feral packs – all you ever valued him for!"
Snape sighed in the background, and lowered his wand.
"Tom, I thought you were on our side, I trusted Sirius could raise you well," the aged wizard whispered, blood now dripping from his scalp, tainting the well-kept long beard as well. He struggled to sit up, resting his weight on his hands, shivering with the pain of physical injuries and betrayal. "You chose to part from Slytherin."
Bellatrix harrumphed, then swiped an ancient tome from its holder so that she could climb and sit on it, and watch the verbal match from a better perspective.
"How could I part from what I am?" Tom theatrically asked. "Through the purest Gaunt line, I'm descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. Parselmouth, like he was, and like Herpo the Foul before him. But don't you lie that you have ever trusted me, headmaster. Do you remember the first time we have talked? Do you remember how I had to trick you into listening to what I was about to say!?"
Through his shattered glasses, tearful sky-blue eyes looked into Tom's midnight-blue gaze.
"For years, you have been telling us what to do. Tonight, this will end."
With the tiniest nod of understanding, the broken old man straightened as much as he could.
Tom raised his aspen wood -turul pinion core wand, aimed it straight above Albus Dumbledore's nose.
There was a bright green flash, and the headmaster collapsed back on the floor.
Bellatrix laughed like a maniac.
-?-
It was a gloomy afternoon when James Potter knocked on his neighbor's door. He was still wearing his auror uniform, which was a rare occurrence, although not unprecedented.
"Since when do you need to knock, Son?" Padfoot asked him, not suspecting anything yet.
"I do now," Prongs replied. "And I swear to you, this isn't a prank. When did you last see Parsel?"
There was something wrong, now the dog animagus could tell. "Harry came right after lunch, they hissed for a while. Then he told me he'd go somewhere, as he worded it: 'Mischief calls.' He took the Map with himself. Why?"
"So you can confirm he went to the castle," James said in a dark, bitter tone. "I just hoped you could tell me otherwise."
"Why?!" Sirius demanded to know. "What happened to him?"
Auror James Potter took a seat on the sofa, and looked at the two, slowly moving constellations on the walls and the ceiling. He was avoiding eye contact.
"WHAT HAPPENED?"
"Two senior members of the Board of Hogwarts Governors were having a discussion with Albus, our Head of Department was also present... They all saw when he walked in, and… Sorry, Padfoot, there's no nice way to tell you this. Tom murdered Albus Dumbledore. Crouch, Bagman and Malfoy all gave testimony under Veritaserum."
"What?! He just…"
"He told them that was something he'd been looking forward to for years. That his actions were but deception in plain sight."
"How could he..? How could he do this to me?! To us! To Albus!"
"That's not all, Sirius. He disappeared from Azkaban. If he could kill the headmaster, he might as well come after you. We've always known he has a core of darkness, we just thought it's manageable."
"And how could I think I could handle him?!" Padfoot cried. "I tried my best, and this is what it was worth!"
Prongs took a breath, swallowing his own tears. "He knows how to utilize the entire vanishing network, doesn't he?"
His brother in all but blood nodded. "He even helped place some of the random exit machines. Considering those work both ways, he knows every hidden entrance."
"Is there a way you could shut it all down?"
"What? No! This isn't the Floo Network, Prongs, and even if there was a way, he had been working on this system with me ever since the very start!" Padfoot's face was red with anger as he continued. "But there's one thing we can do. I can tell everyone how to redirect their machines, so no matter where he wants to go, he will end up in this very room. And the two of us will wait for him with raised wands." Sirius wiped his tears from his eyes. "HOW COULD I BE SO BLIND?!"
Without knocking, Lily Potter entered the home as well. Hearing what had happened, she burst out in tears, saying, "Merlin, I can't believe he'd done that! Oh, Padfoot. Please, please forgive me!"
"Forgive YOU?" both wizards asked.
With teary emerald eyes, Lily looked at them, and admitted, "I asked him. No, I begged him! Oh Merlin, dearest Tom!"
"What?"
"Lily, you lost it?"
"Perhaps! After all you've discovered, James, I pleaded with him to make sure Severus doesn't do something that would lead to a life sentence," Lily admitted. Both wizards gaped.
"Tom even offered me the Unbreakable Oath. I refused, but… Sweet, sweet Merlin! Did he kill Albus Dumbledore so that Sev doesn't have to?!"
"That's one thing we might maybe never learn," the auror murmured. "When I heard about what happened, I mounted the fastest broom available and headed to Azkaban. All I met there was a swarm of very angry dementors, telling me they refuse any further contact with that cambion monster."
"He's not a cambion."
"Albus always said that he is. Perhaps not conceived with daemons, but through some other sort of magic from Hell, and he's the person least capable of love… Even he admitted that."
"And he still did more good for Sev than the two of you ever, combined!" Lily yelled.
"I saved his life!"
"He saved his soul!"
"We can't even know if he wasn't already planning this when he gave you his word," Padfoot pointed out.
"Do we know how he disappeared from Azkaban?" Lily asked.
As if answering her question, the vanishing machine in the nearby room popped open. The motorbike rolled into the room, a long dark piece of cloth caught in its hind wheel. A shivering young man fell from its saddle, falling down on the soft carpet, the vehicle dropping on him.