Chapter 13: The Confession
Gilderoy was still out. Harry was in the hospital wing.
She was the only one who could take down Dumbledore so she had to be brave.
She didn't mind, really. Gilderoy was hit hard, first by the nasty spell Potter had fired at their backs and then secondly, when he was dueling Potter at the end. He had dove in front of a spell meant for her, so she couldn't begrudge him for not being there with her. And Black...he had defied all odds and somehow won against Potter even with his magic bound. Apparently, he had fried his magical channels though, and Madam Pomfrey was still in a panic on how to fix it.
So she approached Professor Riddle. He was one of her favorite professors after all, and she knew Harry was his Heir.
When he emerged from the Pensive, he looked furious. His hand was trembling slightly, and his red eyes were dangerously narrowed. She stayed as he Firecalled Abraxus Malfoy, both men talking in clipped tones and hushed words. When he stepped through, she curtsied as was the custom, and he bowed and kissed the back of her hand.
The Aurors came next. The two of them viewed the Pensive inside Riddle's office, emerging with pale faces and horrified expressions. One of them departed immediately, presumably to question Moody, and the other stayed to talk details with Riddle.
They couldn't make an arrest on Dumbledore immediately. He was Chief Warlock after all, and there would be a public riot if it got out that Dumbledore interfered with the Founder's Tournament. He had friends everywhere, after all, friends that would never believe the worst of Dumbledore. Their proof was shoddy at best; Moody could've been working on his own. Moody's reputation preceded him. He was known for doing shady things to catch criminals.
The most they could do was suspend Dumbledore from his duties until a Trial could take place. It could take years to file, especially since most of the Wizengamot was on Dumbledore's side.
Amelia was furious, but Riddle had calmed, the trembling in his arms gone and his expression thoughtful. But it wasn't right that Dumbledore could get away with this, even if he did have reach in almost all of the social circles.
Riddle had looked amused at her outburst before thanking the Auror for coming on such short notice. The Auror left after promising to come back with Dumbledore's suspension.
He came back in less than an hour, after Malfoy had finished talking to the other eleven governors of Hogwarts. He dropped off the official document before heading back through the fireplace.
The three of them made their way to Dumbledore's office, after Riddle had assured her that it was fine if she came along.
Dumbledore was sitting in his chair, the Portraits spelled blank and the lights dim. She hadn't been in there before, so while Riddle and Malfoy explained Dumbledore's suspension, she took her time examining his walls. There was a multitude of books on the walls, and a double staircase leading to an elevated platform. It was designed beautifully, and she marveled at the beauty of it for a while.
She was startled out of her close examination of one of the books when Riddle suddenly raised his voice. "Treat Hogwarts well?" snarled the normally calm Professor. "Do you think this is happening because of your choice?"
Dumbledore didn't seem fazed by Riddle's question, simply laying one hand over the other calmly and staring back at the enraged Professor. "You seem to believe I had it out for you," said Dumbledore. "You've always been one of my precious students, Tom."
"Precious?" asked Riddle, his voice dangerously quiet. "You sent me back to that godforsaken place every summer even though you knew a War was going on. You wanted me to die!"
"Of course not," said Dumbledore. "I would never wish ill will upon you, my boy."
"Don't call me that," was Riddle's tight response. "Regardless, Hogwarts is no longer yours. Harry has won the Tournament even with your cheating ways. I will end you for that, by the way."
"You care that much about him?" asked Dumbledore, his eyebrows high on his face.
Riddle didn't seem inclined to answer his question, instead pressing on. "The Unbreakable Vow was very ambiguous, wasn't it? The suspension means you will name me as Headmaster in your stead, but the Vow states that Hogwarts will become mine. I certainly didn't mean naming me as Headmaster."
There was a predatory smirk on Riddle's face and this time Dumbledore didn't seem as calm. His hands were shaking and his brows were furrowed as he reviewed the Vow again in his head.
When he didn't speak, Riddle spoke again, this time his voice light and amused. "I want the deed, Dumbledore. You can take your time with it; I'll even give you time to go over the Vow with your people to ensure that what I'm saying isn't a lie. But remember, the Vow will take your magic if you refuse me this."
"Please," said Dumbledore, sounding a tad desperate, "Why make the children suffer, Tom? You have no need of Hogwarts."
Riddle didn't seem inclined to answer, so Dumbledore tried again. "The deed belongs to the Four Founders. Why would you need Hogwarts?"
"That is none of your business," said Riddle, "But do remember this, I am Heir to Slytherin."
"Is this a childhood dream?" asked Dumbledore. "Is that why you feel the need to ruin so many children's safe havens?"
"Hogwarts was my home," said Riddle, so quiet that Amelia had to strain to hear. "You ruined it for me, Dumbledore, but I will never do the same to any of the students in Hogwarts."
Dumbledore sat there in shock, his calm demeanor all but obliterated in a few sentences from Riddle. Riddle didn't wait for Dumbledore to catch his bearings, instead speaking again. "I tire of this conversation. You are suspended from all duties until further review can be made. Bones, here, has kindly provided a Pensive of Moody attacking my Heir, and it won't be long before we can find further proof. As such, there will be a Trial. You will be contacted with the date when it is settled."
"A trial?" asked Dumbledore. "You really think that'll work?"
"It certainly won't hurt to try. You think you are untouchable, but no one is. The public is a fickle thing, Dumbledore, and you'll figure out that defeating one Dark Lord isn't enough to ensure you can defeat another."
Amelia gave a little gasp that she couldn't stop, and Riddle's red eyes darted over to hers. He didn't look too worried that he revealed himself though, simply arching an elegant eyebrow over at her before returning attention back to Dumbledore. "The Aurors will come escort you off the premises in two hours so you have time to remove personal items from my new office." He paused to stare intently at the lemon drops to further drive his point home before gesturing to both Malfoy and Amelia. Malfoy dropped off the official document on Dumbledore's desk before opening the door for Riddle.
When they were only a few steps away from the office and nearly to the top of the spiral staircase, Riddle turned to Malfoy. He didn't say any words, but Malfoy took one glance at him before realizing something was up. He simply went down the stairs without a backwards glance and when Amelia turned to follow, Riddle held out a hand.
"You've been a rather excellent student of mine," started out Riddle, and she blushed at his kind words.
"You're my favorite professor, sir," she answered with. Riddle had a small smile on his face, and she couldn't help admiring his features. Even though Riddle was older, he was simply very attractive with his sharp cheekbones and startling red eyes.
"Which makes it a shame that I'll have to alter your memory a bit. You've done so well with coming forward with your memory that I'll hate to reward you with this. But it has to be done."
She watched in horror as her Professor drew his wand, and she stammered out the first thing that popped up in her head. "Please, sir, is there any way I can change your mind?"
He paused, spinning his wand between his fingertips in a controlled manner as his calculating red eyes focused on her. "You did help my Heir in the Tournament. Why? You come from a predominately Light family."
"It's against my morals, sir, to let people get away with breaking the law."
"The Dark hardly contains law-abiding citizens," scoffed Riddle. "You'll have to do better to convince me to leave you with your memory intact."
"I don't want to be left behind again, sir. I want to know that Dumbledore is a horrible person with his own agenda and that there is something going on behind the scenes. And I want to be a part of it. I helped Black during the tournament, and I can help him for the upcoming War."
"He told you about that, then?" asked Riddle, his eyebrows raised.
She nodded, her mind dancing back to the day of the Task when Black had told her the truth in hurried whispers. About how the Tournament was just a disguise for something more and that there was more than what met the eye.
"I'll trust my Heir," said Riddle, thoughtfully. "You are exceptionally bright for a Hufflepuff, and we can make good use of you. Provided you swear on your magic to keep quiet about all of this. Harry may be trusting, but I am anything but. You can help spread rumors about Dumbledore's interference, and they'll believe you because you are known for never lying. But if you betray me, well," he said lightly, a smile on his face, "Do remember what you just learned. I am a Dark Lord, and I don't practice mercy, even on young female students."
She would remember the smirk on Riddle's face for the rest of her life.
But she wouldn't back down. The world was changing, and she wasn't going to remain ignorant in the face of it.
So with a deep breath, she swore on her magic, and set out to do what her heart wanted. And that was vengeance on a man who she had once thought was great.
It was midnight, and he couldn't fall asleep.
He wasn't in pain since Madam Promfrey had seen to that, but there wasn't much else she could do to help.
When he had first woken up after the Task, he had been confused. After he had been retrieved from the Forbidden Forest and proclaimed as winner of the Founder's Tournament, he had been faced with a visibly worried Tom. The next thing he knew Tom had put him promptly to sleep and he had woken up three days later under Madam Promfrey's worried bustling. His friends weren't there and he was confused until Madam Pomfrey sat down to explain details to him.
She had never seen anything like it before, and she was baffled on how to fix him. The intense blue magic had worked havoc on his systems, and when Bones had come in to tell her about the bracelet, she had become even more confused.
The bracelet had broken his access to his magic, and the blue magic had worked hard to revoke the effect of the bracelet. But to do so, it had fried his magical networks, making it so the bracelet was useless. The bracelet had been easy enough to break then, but unfortunately, she had no clue how to turn his magical networks back to normal. Magic had rewritten his relationship to magic to not only break the bracelet, but also to allow him to access the magic around him easier.
Essentially, for now, he was stuck using the magic around him. His innate magic was still there, but it remained under the surface, unusable without access to a wand, and his wand was burnt to cinders. He knew everything would be fixed once he got a proper wand, but he was still in mourning. He had loved his wand because it had connected him to Tom, and he was being a brat by refusing Tom's offer to take him to Diagon Alley. He still had magic, just not the kind he was used to.
It was these thoughts that occupied him so greatly that he didn't even notice the soft sound of footsteps sounding through the nearly deserted hospital wing. When rustling happened, he flinched, his hand already raised as if he could actually defend himself.
"Put your hand down," said a voice that he knew extremely well, and Harry obliged, knowing there was no way he was going to win this particular battle.
"Jamie," he whispered. "Haven't you done enough?"
James removed the Invisibility Cloak that had been draped over him, becoming visible in the dim lighting of the hospital wing. He looked contrite, but Harry knew better than to believe anything from his brother anymore.
"What do you want?" he asked, his tone cutting and acerbic.
James flinched, shame coloring his cheeks. "I didn't know it would take your magic away for the rest of your life, Harry. It was only supposed to be for the Task."
Anger filled him, and even though he was exhausted, he sat up on one elbow, glaring daggers at his brother. "And how is that supposed to make it any better? It was supposed to be a fair fight. Were you that terrified of losing to me?"
"You don't understand, Harry," whispered James, his eyes pleading. "There was so much pressure on me to win that I couldn't lose."
"I had pressure too," he replied, calmly, "and yet I was willing to do it on my own merits. I didn't need Tom's help and neither did you need Dumbledore's."
There was a long silence before James sighed softly, "I didn't come here to fight about this."
"Then why did you come? You certainly didn't think I'll forgive you when I still can't perform magic thanks to your idiocy."
James flinched again, but pressed on determinedly. "You don't have to forgive me, but I hate myself every day for what I've done. I lost you, and I know it was my own fault. I can't blame anyone else like I always do." When Harry didn't respond, James clutched tighter onto his Invisibility Cloak, his knuckles white with the intense grip he had on it. "Here," he said, thrusting the Cloak toward him. "It should be yours."
The fight fled out of him at the sight of James' distraught look, and it took every ounce of his being not to comfort James. James would always be his little brother and elicit that protective urge in him, but he had to stop because it wasn't healthy anymore. The fact that they were on two different sides of a War that was about to blow up was all too easy to see and remember, and it was that knowledge that kept him from reaching out again. Because forgiveness wasn't forthcoming, and Harry didn't say a word as he took the Cloak from James.
"You're the eldest," said James, trying his best to sound casual. "It should have been yours from the beginning. And...I don't want to have such an unfair advantage anymore. It isn't right that it's mine. And I'm giving it to you before Dumbledore can order me not to." At the end of his words, he looked up at Harry, his brown eyes almost daring Harry to pick a fight over the Vow's validity.
But Harry stayed silent, and the James' shoulders relaxed and his expression was tired, but honest. "Of course I can't expect you to forgive me in exchange for the Cloak. But I want to know. Who is my Intended?"
"You already know, don't you?" Harry asked, gently, and James' expression cycled through disbelief, fear, and then calm resignation.
"Then Lily really isn't mine?"
"When has she ever been?" asked Harry, his mind on Severus and the stark black of his mark.
"He kissed me," said James. "And I knew he was mine. But I pushed him away because I just couldn't be with someone from a Dark family, Harry. Sirius is my best friend, and the Light allowed it, but only because he seemed to be breaking away from them. And then you got named Heir, and Sirius has only had praise for the Black family after that. You changed him."
"No," he responded after a pause, "You've just never seen Sirius for who he really was. James, you're so scared of what people will think of you that you've never gone after something you really want. Even if Sirius is leaning for the Dark, he'll follow you to the Light simply to be with you. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm okay with that. You need him and he needs you. Don't throw away your one chance of happiness for a War that you're not even sure you want to fight."
James closed his eyes, looking to close to tears and Harry watched as his brother's hand trembled. He reached out before he could stop himself, grabbing his brother's hand and enveloping it between his two hands. James' eyes flew wide open at the contact, and he stared at their interlocked hands for a while, before letting out a sigh.
"I'm messed up, aren't I?"
"No," said Harry, "It's not entirely your fault. You're stuck in the wrong place, and I wish I could've done more to help."
"You?" asked James, sounding appalled. "I should have done more to help you."
Harry gave James a sad smile, shaking his head. "I let them manipulate you. I didn't protect you as I should have."
For a second, it looked like James was going to argue. But he looked defeated, a single tear rolling down his cheeks. "I'm a laughingstock, Harry. Everyone knows Dumbledore cheated. After graduation, the next time we meet, it'll be as enemies."
"The War's starting, isn't it? Sev told me. Tom already got declared as Headmaster, and Dumbledore's probably in a right panic."
James nodded slowly, as if unsure of how much information he should let slip. "He's not in the right mind, Harry. I'm scared. I don't want to fight a War."
"Then I'll help you," said Harry, immediately. "I'll always help you, Jamie."
James shook his head, "I can't drag you into this again, Harry. It's my battle to fight. And we're enemies, now, which means you shouldn't feel obligated to help."
"At least talk to Sirius," said Harry. "Please. If only for his sake. He's in so much pain, James, and he's one of my best friends. You have to help him."
James looked conflicted for a second, before nodding. "Before we leave, then. Dumbledore's planning to find recruits from other wizarding countries and I'll be going with him."
"I won't tell Tom," he said, and was surprised to find he actually meant it. Because honestly, Tom probably already knew, and he wanted to assure James who looked startled that he let that slip out of his mouth.
"Thank you, Harry," said James, sincerely. He patted the Cloak once, a sentimental expression warring on his face, before he steeled his expression. "Keep the Cloak, Harry. I love you, even if I don't deserve to anymore."
And Harry wanted to refuse, because he could see the hesitation in his twin's face, but he didn't. And James was already walking away, not even waiting for a response. Because in his mind, there would be no way Harry could still love James, because James had taken away his magic. And that thought was enough to block the words from coming out of his mouth, and by the time he worked up the nerve to say it, James was gone.
He closed his eyes hard in order to stop the tears from falling. Softly, he whispered, "I love you, too, Jamie." But the words fell into silence, left unheard by the one person who needed to hear it most.
Life wasn't easy without a wand.
Luckily, Severus and Lockhart were there for him every step of the way. They got along, rather surprisingly, since they were of two different houses; they liked to exchange notes on rather esoteric stuff and talk about Lucius when they were feeling particularly cranky. It was nice; their mindless chatter was a distraction from the sluggish way he felt every time he so much as moved.
Other than that, after Slytherin's Task and him being crowned as Champion of the Founder's Tournament, there wasn't much else going on in Hogwarts. They already completed their N.E.W.T's, and now they were just waiting till graduation.
Rumors circulated throughout the castle about Dumbledore's interference in the Task and when Tom became Headmaster after Dumbledore's suspension, the rumors only gained in strength. Amelia Bones, who had pulled him aside and congratulated him as soon as she could, only continued to help spread them, intent on making Dumbledore pay for cheating. He figured he would need to figure out a way to repay her continued loyalty soon, even if he knew she was only doing so because it grated on her own moral compass.
James wasn't lying when he said the rest of the student body was mad at him. In a surprise twist of events, suddenly Gryffindors were the most hated House. Everyone suspected Dumbledore of cheating, and after word got out that Harry had lost his Wand and his control over magic because of Dumbledore's plotting, they became fiercely protective of him. Even without magic and angry Gryffindors trailing after him, he didn't feel very vulnerable with the rest of Hogwarts trailing after him.
The only downside of the whole thing besides the loss of his magic was that Tom was entirely too busy for him. Tom had to deal with restructuring Hogwarts' classes to fit his agenda, dealing with Dumbledore's upcoming trial, and finishing up the negotiation with the vampires. He couldn't begrudge Tom; after all, he knew just how important the next few months would be. Even now, they were still dealing with the press of Harry's new reputation. The victory ceremony had been covered worldwide; Tom was sure that most of the foreign countries knew his name now. They also knew his tragic backstory and knew how much he struggled to get to where he was. They couldn't let the fame go to waste when they could use it to sway so many peoples' minds.
They had to continue to cultivate his image as a charming young man, hopefully enough to propel him to becoming Minister for Magic or at least a man that people would be willing to follow. He had enough contacts from the wandless magic lessons, and when Harry had convinced Tom to allow him to start teaching students from other Houses, his contacts had grown even more. The countless balls and small parties thrown by the Malfoys over the summer only ensured that the contacts would also grow in the political world. Now that he had Tom's name to throw around as his own since the Heirship had been revealed, it would be even easier to convince people to listen to him.
So all in all, things were going rather splendidly. They got Hogwarts, Dumbledore was losing more influence by the second, and he won the Founder's Tournament.
So it took him a long moment to process the headline on the paper in front of him. He had been settling down for a nice, easy breakfast before classes when the owls had swooped in, dropping their precious cargo on sleepy students. He had barely reacted enough to catch the paper, Severus scowling when his own nearly whacked him on the head. "The Daily Prophet never delivers news on a Tuesday," he had snarled, and had promptly fallen silent.
Because the headline was about Harry.
Harry Black's Mark Revealed!
"Harry," said Severus.
There was already shocked whispers forming around them, and Harry couldn't breathe for a long moment. He was hyperventilating, but he couldn't stop himself because the world knew.
Tom didn't even know yet.
"Did he?" he gasped out between shallow breaths. "Is he here?"
"Yes," said Severus, understanding him even with his broken words, and pure panic flooded him.
He glanced up from the paper, knowing his Intended would be seated at the table with the other Professors, and met furious red eyes. Tom was staring straight at him, his mouth pursed and his hand nearly tearing the paper in front of him with the white knuckled grip he had on it. Even this far away, Harry could tell that his Intended was very, very angry. Once Tom realized Harry was looking at him, he mouthed the words, 'We need to talk.'
He stumbled out of his seat, the paper still clutched tightly in his hand, and nearly tripped over his own feet. He was shaking, and he knew Severus was already getting up to chase after him, but he couldn't deal with this.
Even knowing that he had to one day let Tom know the truth wasn't enough to prepare him for the fact that Tom knew.
He ran, even though he knew Severus could easily catch up to him with magic. He knew he shouldn't be alone with his whirling thoughts, but he wanted to be alone. And after such a shock like this, he didn't think it was wrong to ensure that he wouldn't have to face Severus.
So as soon as he could, he ducked a corner, taking James' Invisibility Cloak out and throwing it over himself. Severus sped past him, his long black robes flowing around him as he cut a sharp corner. The footsteps faded after a minute and he let out a soft sigh of relief.
It didn't take him long to get where he wanted to go. Even distraught and desperate, his first place of comfort was his Intended's quarters. He slipped past whispering students, intent on ignoring their words, and found himself in front of Riddle's door.
He would have to concentrate in order to succeed. He closed his eyes, reaching out and placing his hand on the door. It was easy enough to take the magic of Tom's wards into himself with the way Magic had rewired him, and to slip it back in place once he got inside. At first, the intense blue magic had just continued to elude him with how it worked, but after practice, he had gotten adept at just handling the magic instead of taking it for his own.
His head was a mess, so when his first thought was to seek comfort in Tom's bed, he followed it. Tom already knew Harry belonged to him, so it shouldn't matter if he found Harry in his bed. And besides, he was distraught, and unhappy, and he wasn't above taking any means of comfort he could find.
He sprawled onto Tom's bed, depositing the invisibility cloak and his outer robes onto the floor before getting comfortable.
He wasn't going to run, even if he wanted to. He had already lied enough to Tom; it was time he told his Intended the whole truth, and he was going to wait here until Tom got there.
So he lost himself in the Daily Prophet's words, the sharp, cruel words that had ruined everything.
"You little minx," was what woke Harry hours later. He startled awake, momentary confusion alighting his senses as he stared up at Tom. It settled in a few moments later, and he remembered just why he had fallen asleep in Tom's bed.
"Tom," he whispered, and Tom frowned.
"I was looking for you all day and of course, you would be hiding in my quarters the whole time."
"I'm not going to go anywhere when I can't even perform a simple lumos," he pointed out, and Tom's eyes softened.
"Show me your Mark, Harry."
He struggled to sit up, ruining the pristine way the bed underneath him was made up as he laid his back up against the wall. Tom didn't move, simply watching him with calculating red eyes.
And even though showing Tom was the reason he was there, he shook his head. Because he was terrified still, terrified to hear Tom's reply.
Tom didn't seem fazed though, just letting out a soft breathy sigh as he sat down on the bed next to Harry. "Let me see it, Harry."
They sit in silence after Tom's words, and Harry struggled to find a way to word what he was feeling. Because he was a mess, and even hours after the event happened wasn't enough to collect his thoughts.
"I can't," he offered up truthfully, even as his mind continued to struggle to find the right words. "I thought I could. I lived my whole life knowing I had to one day let you know the truth. But I can't. I just can't, Tom. I'm terrified. Even though you already know the truth, it terrifies me to say the words out loud."
"You don't have to be scared, Harry," said Tom, after a beat of silence. "And you don't have to say a word. Just show me they weren't lying."
He closed his eyes, and after a shaky inhale, opened them to the sight of his Intended. Tom's eyes were still soft and warm, and he looked worried.
"You'll have to do it," he said, quietly.
Tom's smile was quick and brilliant, disappearing as fast as it came. He didn't use magic, instead undoing Harry's shirt with nimble fingers. When his chest was completely bare and his necklace was out in the open, Tom trailed trembling fingers up his chest to the charm.
And Harry realized then, that Tom was just as terrified as him. That Tom had been looking for his Intended even longer than he had been and that Tom had been nothing been brutally honest with him. His face burned with shame, and he wasn't surprised when a single tear escaped his eyes, rolling down his right cheek.
Tom paused before reaching up with his other hand to wipe away the tears gathering underneath his lashes. "You don't have to be so afraid," said Tom. "I won't blame you if it's not true."
And Harry knew that Tom was lying. Because Tom had been truthful with him that fateful night a year ago, when he had taught him about Magic and a ritual that would end up changing his life.
And that gave him the strength to look up at Tom and whisper, "It's true, Tom."
Tom gave a shaky exhale, but his grip was tight on the charm as he flared his magic.
Tom's eyes were wide as Harry's Mark slowly appeared on his heart, and he dropped a hand to run across it reverently. "She gave you my name," he said, softly and full of wonder.
"You've marked me since I was seven," he said, just as quietly, and watched as happiness bloomed across his Intended's face.
"Oh Harry," breathed Tom, drawing closer and closer until Harry had nowhere else to go. "How could you ever think I wouldn't want you to be mine?"
And he paused, a slight smirk on his face as he stared down at Harry. Then he tilted Harry's head upward, and drew him in for a kiss.
"It's a muggle drink," said Tom, " but I had a penchant for it when I was younger. Enough so that it still calms me down even now. It was a treat back then, rare enough that I was able to associate it with only good things."
He trailed off as he handed a mug to Harry, waving his hand to float his own mug in the air as he got back onto his bed. Harry tentatively took a sip, blinking in surprise when sweetness overloaded his taste buds.
"It's sweet," he said in wonder.
Tom's smile was just as sweet as the drink, but it was covered up when he took his own sip. "It's called hot chocolate," he explained. "Do you like it?"
Harry nodded, firmly holding onto his mug as he shifted to move closer to his Intended. The movement wasn't lost on Tom, and the older wizard reached out an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders so that they were pressed side to side. Tom lazily snapped his fingers, setting the fireplace ablaze and sending the crackling sounds of burning wood throughout the room. Even though it was summer, it was still cold inside of Tom's quarters, and Harry was loathe to button his shirt up. Now that Tom knew, it felt right to leave his Mark out in the open.
"I knew I was different even before my soul mark formed," said Tom, quietly. He waved a hand, and in front of the blazing fire, an orphanage formed, floating in its dismal conditions. He continued to play around with the illusion, and Harry blinked when an eleven-year old Tom appeared. Dumbledore was there, and Harry let out a soft exclamation of shock when Dumbledore set the wardrobe on fire.
"That's when I found out I was a wizard," said Tom. "I had so many hopes and dreams for Hogwarts. I knew I was different, and I was bullied for it. So when I was told I was going to a school with people similar to me, it gave me hope. Unfortunately, my last name was Riddle, and the Slytherins assumed right away that I was a Muggleborn."
Harry wiggled his hand into Tom's, wanting a way to give his Intended comfort. Tom interlocked their fingers, his thumb softly smoothing over the back of his hand. "I was bullied my first day there. The first few months were awful. I was only eleven, Harry. I found solace in the books, and that's when I realized that I didn't have to be bullied here. I had power, even if it was only through helping other students through schoolwork. It wasn't long before the bullying stopped."
Harry stayed silent, his mind whirling at the thought of how much uncertainty his Intended had faced. He couldn't imagine going through his first year without either Severus or Lucy, and even when he had been sorted into Slytherin, he had still had Jamie. And even though his parents hated him, he still had their financial backing and name.
"I almost didn't go back for my second year. But it was obvious that the orphanage was much worse. World War II was going on then, and even though the Blitz didn't start until the summer of my second year, it was still hell there."
"The Blitz?" he questioned when Tom fell silent.
Tom let out a humorless chuckle, "It was a war between Muggles, Harry. Even though my orphanage had nothing to do with the conflict, Germany bombed us anyway."
"How?"
Tom looked baffled for a second, before using his free hand to card long fingers through Harry's locks. The motion calmed him, and he relaxed into Tom's side, letting his Intended find a way to word his next sentence. "I haven't taught you much about the Muggle world, yet, have I?"
"I know the basics," he said. "You made me take that Muggle studies class."
Tom hummed thoughtfully, "Did the class cover airplanes?"
"The things that Muggles use to fly?"
"That's not quite right," said Tom, "but you're not wrong either. They used those and threw very dangerous devices that exploded on contact down onto unsuspecting civilians. Like multiple blasting curses centered in one location."
"That's awful," he said. "Why would anyone do that?"
Tom sighed, "It's how Muggles conduct war, Harry. It's disgusting, really. We would have to hide in bunkers to stay safe."
"And you didn't have your magic to keep you safe."
Tom nodded, his expression tight. He relaxed after a few moments of Harry nuzzling into him, and he let out a soft breath. "Hogwarts fell in love with me. I was many of the Professors' favorite and my classmates followed my every order. I found some friends, as you know with Abraxus, but I was mostly isolated. When I was found out to be the Heir of Slytherin in my fifth year, the isolation became even more stifling. Every summer when I had to return to the godforsaken orphanage, I felt suffocated. I was so powerful in Hogwarts, but in the orphanage I was a victim. It was quite the strange shift every summer, and it took a lot out of me to stay sane.
"It was then that I started to wonder more about my soul mark. I had hidden it as soon as I found out what it meant, and never thought much more about it. Back then, I used to think love just made you weak. That if I found my soul mate, it would just hinder my plans for the future. But as the isolation grew, the desire to find my soul mate grew exponentially. I used to think that I was just like the silly girls in my year, the girls that would wander lovesick through the halls and asking everyone what their Mark said. Gossip like that never interested me, even if I did pay special attention to those I thought my Mark meant.
"But after a while, I realized, I didn't have to live my life thinking like this. I was going to become the Dark Lord, after all, I didn't have to think I was weak for wanting someone to understand me. I became obsessed with the idea of finding you. I wanted someone to help me on this quest I discovered on my own. You see, it was Dumbledore who kept on sending me back to that orphanage, and I hated him for it. He hated the Dark, since Grindelwald was just rising at the time and he had history with the man. I was curious about the dichotomy, especially since many of my Housemates practiced Dark magic. Dumbledore claimed that Dark Magic ruined the soul forever, and that Dark Magic was the only type of magic that harmed others. He thought it was black and white, and that he could claim that wizards were separated by their usage of magic.
But as we discussed before, nothing is that simple. Dumbledore still doesn't understand this concept: that without darkness, there is no light. He doesn't understand that Dark Magic is essential, because in reality, there is no clear dichotomy. It is simply a label, and it is the intent behind a spell that truly makes a wizard reprehensible. When I graduated from Hogwarts and subsequently met Magic, I learned even more how damaging this dichotomy could be for the future. We're so few in number that squabbling with each other will makes us easy pickings for the Muggles."
"Um," Harry stalled for time when he realized Tom was expecting an answer. He stared up into curious red eyes, and bit his lower lip worriedly, searching his mind for a way to respond. "Can I just be honest here?'
"That's the idea," said Tom, chuckling. "No more secrets."
"I'm listening and it's really interesting, but I can't stop wondering what your Mark is."
Tom paused, staring at him in bafflement for a bit, before full out laughing, his body shaking as he did. Harry felt every shake, and he flushed at his Intended's obvious amusement. "Hey," he complained, jabbing his pointer finger into Tom's side, "I've been wondering what could possibly describe me since I was seven!"
"At least you get a trait," said Tom, still breathless from his laughter, "All I get is my name. Magic certainly gave you the easy one."
"Tom," he complained when his Intended didn't seem like he was going to do anything but sit and laugh. Tom moved away from him, disentangling their limbs and shifting so they were sitting face to face. Tom picked up his wand, waving it in complicated circles and little flicks of his wrists before passing it in front of his left cheek.
The Mark seemed to appear all at once, the charm melting under the force of Tom's magic.
Green Eyes in the same italic cursive as the one above his heart was written into his Intended's left cheek in the same hue of green as his eyes.
He didn't know what to say, so he didn't worry about that. Instead, he lifted a shaky hand, pressing his fingertips against Tom's Mark. One word was above the other, making the Mark into two lines. Tom's eyes were intense, and the red of it stood out against the startling green on his cheek. It painted a beautiful picture; without the mark, Tom was still stunning, but with it, he looked otherworldly.
And it helped that he knew those words that Marked Tom were his.
Tom continued to stare at him, before slowly turning his head so that Harry's hand was forced to switch positions. He now had his palm cupping Tom's cheek, his hand in direct contact with Tom's Mark, and the sight of Tom still staring straight back at him with a secretive smile was almost too much to bear.
He dropped his hand, a slight flush on his cheeks.
There was a long moment before Harry broke it. "It's the same color as my eyes."
Tom nodded, looking pleased. "It's nice to finally know for sure."
"You suspected then," Harry said.
"Of course," said Tom. "I suspect every green-eyed person I meet, even if that person is an impudent brat."
"Hey, I was only eleven," he protested. "You can't hold me accountable for that first meeting. And you started it with all your illegal stuff."
Tom grinned, shifting so that they were no longer face-to-face and instead pressed up right against each other. "You were almost as proficient in magic as I was at your age. Wandless apparation? It was almost unheard of."
"It could've just been accidental magic," he pointed out.
Tom let out a long-suffering sigh. "You do realize that incident occurred years ago, and I know by now that you were extremely adept at wandless magic at that age?"
"Erm," he said, blushing, and Tom grinned.
"So why are you arguing, hm? Trying to be difficult?"
"You're purposely avoiding the question," he pointed out, and Tom laughed.
"Right, because it was me who started us on this tangent. Anyway, you were only eleven back then, and even if people call me the Dark Lord, there's no way I would've initiated anything at that age."
"But Marks mean age differences don't matter."
"Yes," said Tom, "but it's still wrong until you're legal. I was terrified of corrupting you, and the fear was only amplified when I realized I would be your Professor."
"When did you know for sure then?"
"I never really knew for sure," said Tom after a beat. "But I had my suspicions. After all, Magic sent me to Hogwarts to apply for a teaching position and there was the fact that your parents gave James Potter the heirship despite you being more proficient at magic than your own brother. And of course, your eyes were the same color as my Mark. And you weren't terrified of me, even though I was much older and much more experienced at magic than you were. As time went on, the clues only became more obvious. Prince is a good friend of yours, but the smug looks I would catch on his face made things extremely clear. I wanted to demand the truth, Harry, but I told myself to wait. If you were truly my Intended, then we would share immortality, and that in itself, means we won't be pressed for time.
"It wasn't easy. I had been searching for my Intended for so long that all I wanted was for the both of us to be honest. But you grew up like you were made for me, Harry, and while some would say it was because I tailored your growth, I would argue against them, because overall, I let you choose the way you grew, and the choice you made were the ones I would have made. You see, Magic wasn't wrong when she Marked us to belong to each other, and it was only through belief of that was I able to hold back. That was until you told me of Ravenclaw's Task. I was just so pleased to hear that you weren't interested in anyone else, and that you were interested in me that I actually gave up on my plans for once and just kissed you. It only escalated from there.
"I wanted to wait till after graduation because then I wouldn't be your Professor anymore, but well, what's done is done. I wouldn't change it even if I could."
"Me either," said Harry, after Tom stayed silent in favor of interlocking their hands again. "I don't know if I ever would have worked up the courage to tell you myself. Even when Magic told me that your Mark matched mine," here Tom made a little sound of disbelief, "I couldn't work up the courage to tell you. I was scared that you didn't feel the same."
Tom blinked, recognition visible in his eyes. "That's when you were acting irrational."
"Hey," he protested, but Tom just pressed on.
"I wasn't joking when I said you could be my Queen," said Tom, with a teasing smile.
"I don't want to be your Queen," he retorted with, but even when he was pretending to be irritated, he couldn't stop smiling.
"You already are, though," Tom said, and even though he was obviously teasing, the words still sent a rush down his spine.
Instead of responding with words, Harry just tugged Tom forward until they were kissing chastely again. It didn't last long, and Tom just smirked when they pulled away.
They sat in silence for a while, cuddled together, before Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "After graduation, will you come with me to see Magic? She owes us since her little 'gift' resulted in your loss of magic."
"I'll follow you anywhere, really," he responded truthfully.
"Sap," scoffed Tom, and Harry laughed before drawing Tom in for another kiss.
A/N: Well, here it is, guys! I struggled a lot about debating whether to post this or not, because well, stories after confessions are kinda hard to write? Idek, i just hope you guys will continue reading even though they are now together ^^ because there's so much that still needs to happen! James/Sirius, Lily/Severus needs to get resolved and now there's the drama with Gilderoy/Lucy that will be addressed next chapter. I also struggled because I hope this confession scene was all you guys hoped for? I hope I didn't make Tom too nice or sappy or anything just :( I'm really worried about this chapter so I hope you guys enjoy.
Next chapter is end of Hogwarts arc! :) Right now, it looks like the outline is favoring two confession scenes (guess which couples ? :P ) and then the beginning of Harry getting a new wand and figuring out how to deal with Magic~ Then it's recruiting.
Also, about Dumbledore. I've read a lot of interesting fics on political and law stuff like that, but my knowledge is basically rudimentary so I won't be dwelling on that much. Dumbledore will get what's coming to him though, don't worry about that!
And Tom was angry not at Harry when he first saw the article, but furious at the fact that the Daily Prophet would go behind his back and print something like that. And the woman from the end of the last chapter is Mrs. Potter ^^ she was the one to out Harry's Mark and the repercussions of that will also be covered.