Chapter 10

Devil's Advocate

"…and the shocking news of the mysterious death of the famed alchemist has wreaked havoc on the Wizarding World. The Ministry of Magic refused comment about anything pertaining to the whereabouts of the only know philosopher's stone in existence, simply named 'The Philosopher's Stone'. What in Morgan's name is a philosopher's stone, Hagrid?" Harry set the morning copy of the Daily Prophet down and folded his arms on the dining table.

Hagrid shrugged his great shoulders. "Yeh got me, Harry. I never even heard'a Nicolas Flamel."

"Well, I have," Harry whispered cautiously, glancing weary-eyed at the Slytherin table. Tom was noticeably missing from his usual seat. "I heard a few Death Eaters mention his name during Tom's birthday celebration."

With a cringe, Hagrid shushed the small boy before anyone picked up on their conversation. Several surrounding Gryffindors were already giving the two friends oddly-glancing looks, making them both somewhat uncomfortable as it was. "Don' call them tha', Harry! I reckon if they find out it were you that let tha' slip, they'd be back ter givin' us trouble."

"I know… but I'm sure Tom's involved somehow. I'm not saying he's done anything, Hagrid, it's just… he's just been acting so strange lately – What in the hell are you looking at, Ogden?" Harry was suddenly glaring across the table at a stocky, wiry-haired boy. "Mind your sodding business."

Tiberius Ogden, the boy who had replaced Minerva as Gryffindor Seeker, scoffed and nudged Dorcas Meadowes' shoulder. An avid hunter and fame-seeker, Tiberius only kept with the best and brightest of Hogwarts. He had half of McGonagall's talent and none of her class, and he drooled at a chance to be a part of Tom's elite. "Or what, Gaunt? You'll get your brother's drones after me, too? Why don't you go back to your own kind, eh?"

"My own kind?" Harry asked him. "What exactly is my kind?"

"Now look here, Tiberius!" Hagrid howled, raising a pointed finger at him. "Harry's a good lad, so yeh know! He's got every righ' ter sit here."

"My God, man, you hardly have any right to sit here, let alone Mr-Perfect-Head-Boy's little runt of a brother," Ogden spat. Dorcas giggled under her hand. Both seventh year Gryffindors turned their noses up at the half-giant and his mischievous friend. "Go suck on some flobberworms!"

"Lick streeler venom!" Harry shot back. The runt jab had hit him hard. He had grown quite a bit over his time at Hogwarts, and felt the nickname was completely uncalled for. Being in constant company of Hagrid or Tom would make anyone look a lot smaller than they truly were.

"Oh, I know," Dorcas injected, pointing a skeletal finger at the end of the Hufflepuff table. "You two could go sit with the other Slytherin cast-offs, like Dolohov over there. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a bit of company."

Following her direction, Hagrid and Harry spotted the poor boy sitting next to Grugwyn Rufford, looking pathetically sad while learning the art of playing a proper game of Gobstones. Armon's face was covered in gooey liquid of all colours that leaked into the collar of his robes. Harry thought he might rather visit Aragog in the Forbidden Forest on a daily basis rather than be forced into playing the boring, disgusting game.

"No thanks," Hagrid mumbled quietly, clearly sharing his sentiment.

Harry turned to Hagrid, taken aback by how incredibly trifling the banter had ended, and that he had been caught up in it enough to hurl insults. There were much more important things brewing in their lives. He snapped his fingers in front of Hagrid's face to garner his attention, dispensing the vicious snarl on the larger boy's visage. "Anyway, what I think we should do is find a way to get into the Restricted Section and read up more about this stone and what it's used for. I'm guessing…"

"He thinks he's so smart sitting there reading his post and wishing he were as wonderful as his brother," Dorcas added loudly, breaking Harry's concentration.

Rolling his eyes, Harry's head snapped back toward the two idiots. "Shouldn't you be studying really, really hard for your N.E.W.T's right now and not worrying about what I'm saying, Meadowes? Merlin knows you need all the help you can get, you daft idiot."

The bony girl with thick glasses gasped and threw a hand up to cover her reddening neck.

It was Hagrid's turn to giggle gleefully. His large frame jiggled the Gryffindor dining table with each joyous chortle.

Harry jammed his copy of the Daily Prophet under his arm and stood up, still scowling at the two. "Let's go find some place where we won't be interrupted by all these fearless little primates trying to impress each other, Hagrid."

Ogden gave the boys a two-finger salute as they walked off, and shook his head in abhorrence.

The instant they made their way to the Great Hall, Myrtle and Mina gave ample chase. They had been watching the two boys with intent throughout dinner, and in their hands were gifts in wait of their new owners. "Harry, Harry, oh, Harry!" Mina bellowed in a chirpy voice, "You too, Hagrid – wait up!"

"Ooh, Harry, stop!" Hagrid whispered, and tugged on his robes to straighten them out. He ran his fingers through his bushy hair, giving his friend a wink before they turned around. "Hullo, Bulstrode! You look might' lovely today," he returned enthusiastically, giving the hefty girl a bright grin.

Mina blushed pink. Myrtle was already sporting a set of flushed cheeks as she slowly approached Harry. "G-got this for you," she garbled, handing the boy a cello-wrapped parcel. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry gaped at the squat girl, unsure of what to say. He looked down at the box in his hands, giving it a tiny shake. "What's this?" he asked her, feeling the innards shimming around like sand.

Shoving her gift into Hagrid's hand, Mina simply beamed at him. "We spent all Boxing Day making biscuits for you."

Finding the exchange a bit more than irritating, Harry was in mid thought of how to ditch these two harpies when his eye caught a glint of light beaming off of Myrtle's blue Prefect badge. "Prefect," he breathed. His eyes lit up. "Myrtle, you could get into the Restricted Section if you needed to, right?"

"I suppose," she said, shrugging. "I could ask Professor Merrythought for a pass. I've been neglecting my studies on cursed objects and their effects on—Ooh!"

Harry seized her arm and dragged her along with him. "She might still be in her classroom, c'mon!"

Tom paced along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was anxious, and for good reason. If anyone was on to him, if anyone found him or tried to search him, they would take their last breath. He looked down at his watch before dropping his arm as if it weighed a million stone. He had no patience for waiting. Apprehension and jubilation raced through his body. He had done the wicked deed for him, for the man who he would grow into with time. He had massacred and purloined for Lord Voldemort.

He could not recall their last meeting. It had been years back and wiped cleanly from his thoughts. He understood the importance of that now. He was a man now, come of age and maturity and could see the future with open eyes. It was time for change. His old life was caving in. Lie upon lie plagued him day and night. His life was false. He was a plaything for his future self, an experiment of epic proportion. His mother was not meant to survive, and Harry was not…

Only weeks before, waking up to Merope sneaking into his room with the firm and maddened belief that Tom was actually his father, Mr Riddle, he had taken it upon himself to return her to St Mungo's. It was then when his lows got lower, crashing and burning like a decrepit building when he received the worst possible news: Harry could not possibly be his blood brother.

He had only wanted to be sure that Merope was not pregnant. She insisted that she was, and Harry was so supportive of her. It ripped and shredded Tom's insides with such pain. Harry… who the hell was he? "God, Harry…"

"I wouldn't dwell too far into that." A voice inside the forest echoed out through the trees. "We've been over this already. Harry's no less your brother than before you found out, and his blood does run hot through your veins."

Tom steeled himself in wait for Draco's appearance. He shoved his hand in his pocket, touching the thing he had stolen. "Where's Voldemort?"

Draco stepped into view, grinning. His impish features danced with elation. "He couldn't make it. He sends his apologies. Do you have it?" He held out a hand in wait for his prize, eager to wrap his fingers around his own future.

Fishing it out, Tom held the Philosopher's Stone up to the light of the sun. Like a great ruby, it glittered like nothing other, and took their breath clear away.

Moving toward him, Draco snatched it up. "Such a good boy," he whispered, mesmerised by the stone's raw beauty. "You have yet to fail us. Well, except for that one very important thing you just can't seem to get into your thick skull…"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Which is?"

Draco huffed in annoyance. "Harry. You still don't get it, do you?"

"We're fine, thanks," Tom returned, making a little noise in his throat. "Never better."

With laughter running thick with sarcasm, Draco stuffed the rock into his robes to stop himself from slapping some sense into the boy. "Sure, fine and dandy, and yes he's still less of a Slytherin than the great rebel himself, Godric Gryffindor. How is that possible, Tom? How do you lead mere recruits into murdering for you, but you can't keep one little boy who loves you with all of his soul on a solid leash? He's already figured out that you have something to do with this stone. It's only a matter of time before Dumbledore picks up on it."

Inclining his head, Tom cleared his throat nervously. He was taken aback. "Harry knows?"

Draco nodded. "And he's got someone helping him. Someone who would love nothing more than to split the two of you apart."

"That's absurd," Tom reasoned. "That would never happen."

"Wouldn't it? You need to show him who's in charge before he wakes up and smells the roses. You're not a good guy, Tommy. You're about as bad as they come. He's not like you… not yet. What do you think will happen when he finds out you've murdered again? And trust me, he will find out."

Tom held up a rigid finger and pursed his lips. "No, I haven't murdered anyone since my father."

"Course not. Killing a man and his wife to take possession of their immortality rock isn't really murder, is it?"

"I didn't do it," he replied calmly.

"You ordered your Death Eaters to. That's still murder, Tom."

Tom looked away, averting his eyes. Yes, he had ordered their deaths. No one was supposed to know who had taken the stone. It was that important. "Harry will never find out."

"Are you going to keep him in the dark about everything? What about the news you got from St. Mungo's, Tom? That your mother birthed only one child and couldn't possibly get pregnant again? What do you think will happen when Harry's little brain wraps around the fact that you kidnapped him and forced him to grow up in squalor? You allowed his beatings and neglect to carry on, making him stronger. You murdered his real mummy and daddy; wealthy, happy people who loved him."

"He did that—I didn't!"

"He and you are one, Tom. Will that matter to Harry whether you did it now or later? You still did it."

A small tree exploded behind them. Tom growled in his throat.

Draco chortled. "That's right, get angry. Know now that it was you who did all of this to him and yourself. You've known for a month that he wasn't your brother. How does that feel?"

"I thought it was a mistake," he whispered. "They made a mistake... somehow. He can't be…"

Draco scoffed. "Certified Healers attest to the facts, Tom. They aren't Muggles. I delivered Harry right into your mummy's arms on your direct orders."

Tom shook his head. "He's more like me than anyone else."

"Of course he is; he's holding part of your soul inside of him."

It was in his eyes. Draco spoke the truth. Tom felt like crying. "I wouldn't do that. I'm not so cold."

Draco put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "There was a good reason for it. You've got to stop this separation between the two of you. Harry is a very important part of the Trinity that you created. Without him on our side, the others inch closer to snatching him up. The longer you divide it, the farther he slips away."

Tom blinked. "Trinity? Who's the third?"

"Me, of course," Draco boasted. "Who else? Harry and I live to serve you, my Lord. "

That did not make Tom feel any better. "I see. And we are against the others, right?"

Draco held up a hand to stop him. "You're fishing, Tom. Don't try to understand it, yet. Your job is to get Harry to recognise you as the only person in the world he can fully trust. If Gellert Grindelwald gets his hands on Harry – or worse, Albus Dumbledore; Harry will become a weapon to be used against you. I suspect that Dumbledore's already watching the two of you. It's only a matter of time before Grindelwald gets wind of your growing power."

"You seem to know everything, but you can't predict how this will turn out. Why is that?"

Looking at the ground, Draco kicked a small twig in frustration. "You're too goddamn intelligent for your own well being. I've already said too much. I don't need you diving into Dumbledore's business. That will not be your concern for a long, long time. Your directive right now is Harry, and only Harry. Got it?

"I want you to think of him as something more than just a boy Wizard you've kept company with. He is a possession, a priceless possession that belongs only to you. He is to be kept at your side at all times so that no one else can touch or taint him in any way. He is fiercely loyal to whatever he believes in. Make him believe in you."

"You want me to think of him as I would a pet?"

Draco snorted uncouthly under his hand. "Oh, he would love to hear that one. No, not as a pet; he truly is a part of you. His blood runs through you, your soul lives inside of him. You and he are one."

Tom blushed pink. "Is that why we're… is it why… we're attracted… I mean…"

Draco's eyes lit up. Tom was beginning to see now. "Yes, that's exactly why. It is why Harry can talk to snakes and you can imagine no other at your side. Think of it as a wondrous side effect."

"I do love him, Draco. I really do."

"I know, Tom. And I hope to Merlin he's worth putting your heart and soul into recapturing. Do what you have to do to accomplish this; force him, break him down and build him back up. You'll know when the change begins. Harry is so unlike this naïve child we see now. His attraction to you knows no bounds. He's in the Restricted Section as we speak, and is about to fall into one of the greatest traps of all time. It should be quite familiar to you; it was how you were conceived. Get in there and stop that bloody Muggleborn girl from taking what is rightfully yours."

"Right," Tom said, pulling his wand free from his trousers. "When will I see you again?"

Draco winked at him, looking over his shoulder at the boy as he stepped into the forest. "We will be back very soon. There's something else we need to do."

Myrtle. Moaning, moping, pathetic Myrtle.

Tom gazed upon the girl hidden behind the second shelf of the Restricted Section. She sat across from Harry; legs bent and parted, with a hand twisting up the material of her skirt to show off the crotch of her knickers. At first glance, it could have been innocent. They looked bookish in their school uniforms and thick glasses, Harry's awkwardly long legs splayed out to hold the volume he was reading over. His finger moved along the passages as he read aloud to her, and her eyes followed his actions as if he were the only thing ever worth watching. The tainted parcel sat in wait for Harry. Tom could smell the familiar stench of Amortentia wafting from it.

It was obvious; she wanted him in the worst way. She was no better than Merope. The blood in Tom's veins thickened and blackened.

Curling a hand around the end of the shelf, Tom pulled himself inward to show his face to them. "What are you doing?" he asked, fixed on Myrtle. "Did you let him in here?"

Clapping the book shut, Harry dropped it beside him and forced a smile. "We weren't doing anything wrong," he said weakly. He lies. "She was helping me with some research, that's all."

"I…" Myrtle's eyes shifted between Tom and Harry, and the box. She stood up quickly and adjusted her skirt. "I was just going."

"Good," Tom said. "Get the fuck out of here before I report you."

Harry bit his lip, forcing himself not to retort. As much as he hated seeing Tom act like he was superior to Muggleborn students and anyone else who did not fit well enough into his criterion, he was glad that his brother was shooing the annoying wailer off. She had done nothing but whine the entire time, making his enlightenment of the Philosopher's Stone a difficult task indeed. "See you around, Myrtle," he said, cringing.

Tom moved in the instant the gates clanked together, kicking the box of biscuits beside Harry as hard as he could. It hit a shelf and burst open, sending chocolate crumbs scattering everywhere.

There was something in his eyes, a pool of water as deep as the ocean that took Harry's breath as he crouched down in front of him. "They were poisoned," the older boy whispered pointedly, flicking his eyes back at the mangled lump on the floor. His hands rested limply over his knees and his fringe fell into his face. He smiled so softly, so confidently at Harry. "Love potion. She was going to seduce you."

"You don't say…" Harry murmured, staring blankly at it. He gasped and tried to stand, realising suddenly that Hagrid had received an exact replica of his box. "I have to—" Before he could move more than an inch, or emit another word, Tom's eyes darkened, his hands darted out, and he took Harry by the arms to force him back down. Harry winced. "Tom, what are you doing?"

"I just want to know something," Tom said harshly, "Are you really this fucking stupid?"

Worming his way in between his thighs to thoroughly hold him down, Tom cupped his hand over the boy's face to place his lips to his throat. "Stop it," Harry whispered in a shaky voice. His robes were torn open, his trousers unzipped. There were hands everywhere, it seemed; rigid, long fingers pushing and pulling him in all directions. "Aren't you listening to me? God—" His lips were smothered in a kiss, his hands positioned behind his back. The capricious act was so forceful, something Tom had never done to him before.

Hands tightened, seized. Tom yanked him up and shoved him back against the shelf. "What were you doing?"

Molten blood soared hot through Harry's veins, scorching all sense of right and wrong. He shook his head in curt sweeps, shaken by Tom's unjust finger pointing. He did not think Tom would kill again. He did not kill Nicolas Flamel. "Nothing. I was only looking up the properties of the Philosopher's Stone, I swear…" And no matter how much he pleaded or rationed out as to why, Tom's gaze of contempt never wavered.

"She would do anything to get you to notice her. She is a Mudblooded-whore, a filthy slut, and all she wants from you is everything that you've promised me."

Harry froze. "Wait… are you talking about Myrtle? I thought this was about Nicolas Flamel."

"What in the fuck are you on about? Yes, Myrtle! She's trying to get into your fucking pants!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Don't be ridiculous. I didn't do anything with her…"

"Shut up."

He knew now what it must have felt like to be one of the ousted elite. The dangerous mask had slipped from Tom's visage. Never before had his brother looked upon him in this way. Hatred. Pure, seething hatred. Clouded eyes, blinded from seeing anything other than Myrtle.

Harry's breath caught. His eyes widened in realisation, and he blanched stark-white. This has nothing to do with the stone. Tom was going to hurt him for being alone with Myrtle.

The lights overhead were doused. He looked up, gasping with surprise. Electric pulses of magic rippled over his skin. Trousers were pulled off and kicked aside. He protested, feeling strangled and alone. His voice squeaked with sharp pain resonating through his forehead. Tom's eyes almost glimmered through the darkness. "Shut up! No one can hear you," he hissed, and Harry tore away.

Tom struggled to capture the floor-scratching, scrambling limbs before Harry's escape took effect. The boy was trembling and inconsolable. Grunting and gasping for oxygen. Kicking, crying, and thrashing about – Pinning his brother to the floor roughly, hands thrust over his head, clenched hard, and gagging his raucous mouth with the ball of his hand, Tom bested Harry. "I'm not going to hurt you. Have I ever—goddamnit, Harry, stop struggling!"

Teeth bit deeply into his palm, burning the skin. Tom ignored the pain and the helpless, choked cries, focusing on calming the terrified boy instead. Whatever it took; suffocating him into near unconsciousness, waiting this out until Harry collapsed from exhaustion – Tom would do whatever it took, because he was not going to let him get away.

No…

I'm not Morfin. I'm not going to hurt him.

He needs to see that only I exist.

A kiss and a hair petting later, Tom's angry guise softened like milk. "Harry, relax. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just get a little barmy sometimes when I think of others trying to touch you."

Not fully convinced, Harry watched him as he would watch Morfin in days past. Those untrusting bottle-green eyes were fixed on every twitch of Tom's facial expressions.

Draco was wicked, but he had been right; Harry needed Tom and only Tom. He had to know who was boss.

"I didn't mean to imply that you didn't trust me. I know you trust me, and I trust you. Listen to me, baby." The fully-tensed muscles in the body beneath him slackened a single notch. Harry blinked in confusion as Tom pulled his hand away from his mouth. Luminous green eyes that softened and looked for reassurance warmed his blood. Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders and jaw, Tom had finally gotten his attention. "I don't want you around her anymore. I don't like it. You're too fucking gullible to be in her company."

Bruised lips parted, bloodied teeth clacked. "Okay," Harry breathed. "I didn't do anything."

"I know."

Tom's lips, his tongue, the teeth that nipped and tickled around his neck. Determined hands slipped his down into his breeches, nails dug hard into his hips.

"I love you, Tom."

"I know, Harry. Shh…"

Pushed up against the shelf, the old wood dug into Harry's back. Splinters tore at the skin, awakening his mind. His breeches slipped down to his ankles while Tom's lips trailed over his quivering thighs. "I'll make it up to you."

A swish of tongue, delicate fingers, and a purr that softened the hard lines of his eyes, Tom brought Harry to a state of hardened bliss that only he could attend to. He looked up at the boy with his own innocence radiating forth, seeing Harry watching him perform the dirtiest of acts. "Do you like it? Do you wanna come, baby?"

"Yeah," Harry whimpered, melting on the spot. His back arched away from the shelf for more contact, his fingers gripped Tom's hair… Harry surrendered to the sweetness of firm lips; wet and swollen, leaving no part of him untouched. Fingers, slick with saliva, roamed and slipped and pressed between the cordate flesh above his thighs.

Blood throbbed in Harry's temples. There was a breathy cry of astonishment and an adolescent jerk of his hips. Fingers tangled in Tom's hair tightened, parting several from the scalp. The lovely tongue-bathing and stretching of muscle enraptured him with rushing force.

All was clinched. Harry had succumbed and would never look back. He would never look at another.

Harry sat over Tom's knees, cupping his face. A state of owlish inquisitiveness blinked back at his brother. Harry's pink tongue slid cautiously to taste the remnants glistening on Tom's lips. He took experimental warm licks, each more enthusiastic than the last. He rocked in Tom's lap, slowly grinding their bodies together in a way that he had never dared before. Awakened, alive… Tom nearly creamed in his pants at the innocent trial of Harry's unctuous actions.

A glint of mischief began to sparkle around Harry's pretty face. "I liked it. Everything. I wanna do it to you."

Tom swallowed hard. His jaw set under Harry's hands. "Yeah?"

Harry nodded, no longer looking worried or frightened. He lashed his tongue out once more, tasting himself, catching Tom completely off guard. He was looking at him with pure lust. "Yeah, I wanna do that to you."

"Oh, God, okay" Tom rasped. "In my room."

Hardly dressing, Harry shoved his glasses on his nose and yanked his trousers up enough to walk in a straight line. He was wobbly and weakened with pleasure, and wanted so badly to do it all over again. Nothing had ever felt so delicious, so filthy and perfect. He had looked at Tom for the first time ever as he came, into his eyes. He loved Tom's eyes and how they spoke so much to him at that instant. "Hurry up," he spat, racing to the gates of the Restricted Section. "C'mon, Tom!"

Adjusting the throbbing bulge in his trousers enough to move, Tom caught his breath and slipped out into the library.

Tbc…