1) Fighting
Neville knew immediately that something was wrong.
He wasn't entirely certain how he knew, nothing happened to signify it, but…he had a feeling, a painful clenching in his gut. It was subtle, like waters drawing back into a tsunami, the tiniest sign to forewarn of coming disaster. And then the silence shattered, the calm shattered, and his eyes shot to the Slytherin table.
Riddle.
Harry.
His eyes widened with absolute shock.
One second it seemed they had just been sitting, and the next, wands were drawn and Riddle had a tight grip of Harry's throat, pushing him back against the table. Harry's fingers were sheathed as if they were claws, digging into the elder Slytherin's hand.
If Neville was fanciful, he could have sworn he could see pinpricks of blood forming on Riddle's hands where those nails left their vicious mark. The Slytherins had all frozen, alternatively staring at the table and at the so called Slytherin Duo.
He couldn't figure out what was causing the spat, and then, a terrible hissing filled the hall, as if a cruel voice was whispering straight into his ear.
"So be it, hero…I speak now to you all…give me Harry Potter and no one else shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I will leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have half an hour."
They all stared at each other, not entirely sure what was going on, but knowing it was bad. It seemed you-know-who had once more frequented Hogwarts grounds, and this time he'd brought his army.
Neville shivered.
He'd had nightmares about being outside on one of the Dark Lord's 'visits.' There was a moment of utter silence, like the fading ring of glass. He had a feeling he knew what Harry and Tom may have been, so publicly, fighting about now. Everyone was staring at them.
They seemed like a snapshot for a moment, still tangled in their struggle. If was too tense for anyone to even start screaming in panic, they just…watched.
Fixated. Even Harry and Tom themselves seemed momentarily paused, but it didn't last long.
"Tom-" Harry began.
"No," the other cut in, ferociously.
"I wasn't asking permission," Harry continued, relentlessly, speaking even louder, albeit breathless from the fingers on his windpipe. "Get. Out. Of. My. Way."
"I wasn't asking your opinion," Riddle returned, sweetly. "It's not happening. He can't have you."
"Come now, Tom, learn to share," Harry spat, seemingly in goad, finally managing to wrench the grip off his neck, though he was still pressed against the Slytherin table. "If you go out there you will be destroyed"
"He's going to come in if I don't, it doesn't make a difference, aside from the fact that everyone else is forced to pointlessly die and suffer with me. Let go of me!"
Harry gave a colossal push, using all of his strength, straightening and taking several steps towards the door, before Riddle had righted himself and had lunged for Harry again, tossing him backwards from the way out, almost sending the other sprawling to the floor with the violent force of the action.
He didn't think they were aware of their audience, they couldn't be, absorbed in each other and the threat of Voldemort. It was…intimidating to say the least.
Neville was sure he would have turned weak at the knees under the dark glare on Tom's face, the ice in those eyes. Harry's wand was pointed square at Riddle's heart.
"Tom, I have to do this, please, move, or I will make you." It was no idle threat, he could tell that clearly enough from the sudden menace in Harry's voice, infused with the desperation.
"How are you going to do that, darling?" Tom replied, softly. "In case you hadn't noticed, you're outnumbered."Harry's eyes flicked momentarily to the pale faced Slytherins around them, before back to Riddle.
"You're being ridiculous-"
"Yes, it's ridiculous of me to try and save your life," Riddle interrupted, coldly. "I should just let my best friend walk out and sacrifice himself, right?"
"Yes, actually, you should!" Harry exclaimed, sounding furious. Neville's breath caught in his throat at the expression on Riddle's face. He couldn't see Harry's. Tom took a lethal step forward.
Cho Chang studied the two of them, fascinated and fearful, unable to tear her eyes away despite the oncoming battle on their doorstep.
Riddle took a step forward, looking every inch as if he were a predator, something inhuman. It set her teeth on edge.
Harry tensed in response, and she could scarcely believe the words coming out of their mouths. It made tears begin to well in her eyes - was Harry seriously planning to go out there alone, to face the Dark Lord? Her heart pounded. She agreed with Riddle on that one.
No. Absolutely not.
Harry's eyes were sad, so very sad.
"It's for the greater good, Tom, you know it is-"
"And you should know I don't give a damn about the greater good, golden boy. I care about you. You're not going out there, and your brains have shrunk if you think you are."
The flicker, the falter, in Harry's expression was painful to watch. He swallowed quite visibly, seeming to drink in every aspect of the boy in front of him, suddenly appearing very young and vulnerable.
She still felt stupid for the one time she'd tried to date him. He'd agreed, but…it was odd. She'd never been his priority, even when she was his girlfriend or date.
Most of the time, Riddle had made her feel like an intruder actually, and she realised now that she had been.
Whether they acknowledged it or not, these two were clearly in love with each other, and while in theory Harry seemed to like the idea of getting a girlfriend, in practise, no girl could stand being constantly second or even third on his list.
Besides, everything romantic between Harry and a girl, or she would even imagine another boy, seemed so cheap and shallow when placed next to the dynamic the duo had. Riddle scared a lot of people off anyway.
And it wasn't one sided, she'd seen Harry practically breathe fire when students began to encroach on his time with the handsome Slytherin.
The oddest part was, they obviously weren't that self aware of their relationship…if Harry actually thought he stood a chance of persuading Riddle to change his mind on this matter…the elder Slytherin was possessively overprotective! He'd never allow this.
She wished they'd just kiss already.
Harry seemed to compose himself again, jaw clenched.
"And that's why I have to do this, don't you see?" Harry sounded most agitated, frustrated. "I can't let him anywhere near you, it's me he wants, he'll leave you alone if you're not with me! Don't throw away your life on my behalf, it's not-"
"Don't you dare say it's not worth it," Riddle hissed. "That devalues not only yourself but my judgements too." Tom took another step closer, and, in contrast, Harry took a step back.
Zevi was certain that his heart had stopped. The tension between the two was palpable, so strong that it was almost a physical force, a black hole that sucked them both ever closer to each other, and their audience with them.
His gaze flicked between them from his vantage point, hungrily noting the story as it played, the twist and pull of power and, dare he say it, affection?
Harry stared at Tom, too expressionless to truly be calm.
"You knew I was never going to go along with your plan," Harry said quietly. "So stand aside, we might as well get this over with."
"And you knew I have no tolerance for yours, nor for your self-destructive tendencies, so give up and sit down."
They glared at each other, viciously, neither backing down.
The black hole grew stronger. He was genuinely surprised that they weren't physically attacking - much - yet. It wouldn't be much longer though on that front, they were both leaning in, positions geared for fight or flight.
"I'm sorry, Tom," Harry's voice had grown soft, so soft. "But you must have known this was coming. You said it yourself, this was never going to be a fairytale."
"Just as well that's not your goodbye to me, because it was pathetic," Tom replied curtly.
Their lord's eyes slid to them, with a nod. An order. His heart panged.
Then they were fighting.
Luna Lovegood watched with more impassiveness than she felt, knowing that despite the huge amount of spectators the duo had, this was something they desperately needed to work out themselves.
It was so intense that it almost blinded her to watch, and her heart fluttered to see it. It would have been nice to be loved so fiercely as Harry and Tom loved each other, though, despite what some may think, she didn't think it was sexual.
She'd seen enough of Tom to strongly believe he was asexual, more than anything, and Harry…well, Harry was Harry. They were struggling, too close for wands, and she suspected there was a reason for that too.
Wands weren't as personal, and if this was truly goodbye between them, she suspected neither of them wanted impersonality. This was more intimate, and it wasn't like they weren't using magic - spells were flying between them as much as physical strength was.
They just weren't duelling in a standard fashion. The environment around them had become weaponry.
She smiled to think Tom Riddle cared enough to let go of his reputation and persona to engage in something like this in the middle of the Great Hall.
She honestly didn't know who would win.
She didn't think either would.
If Harry left, they both lost in a way, they lost each other, and ironically Tom lost most for being the survivor. If Harry stayed, Harry lost against Tom's machinations and schemes, and Tom was victorious, but lost something of Harry. They compromised an awful lot, but she knew neither would compromise on this.
She held her breath, watching as the magic danced between them along with the sway of control.
Harry. Tom. Harry. Tom.
It swung wildly back and forth, too matched, too equal. Her insides twisted.
And then the other Slytherins got involved.
Four against one, especially when one of those four was the young Dark Lord himself, Harry didn't stand a chance, disarmed. It was cheating.
A dirty trick.
Yet, no one would question it but Harry, for none of them wanted to see Harry dead.
And if they did, she suspected they were too terrified of the pressure-pad explosive that was Tom Riddle, and everything it was more than clear he would do to them if they got in his way right now.
Voldemort may have been outside, but keeping him out by offering Harry only transferred the threat to something much closer.
She had always thought that if Death should be a man with a physical body, that he would look and be a bit like Tom Riddle. Handsome.
Death would always have a very charming smile when he came to steal you away.
She supposed Harry could be Death too. But neither was. They just played with his toys, and Death had marked them in return.
Fate and Luck had moved onto their final round.
Harry kicked out with his legs, upon losing his wands, knocking Zevi and Alphard out, and hardly daring to care for it now. There was too much at stake here.
He switched to a more intensive form of muggle fighting, and had almost twisted free, eyes blazing - trust Tom to cheat, even now by involving the others! - when hands clamped like steel bands around his torso from behind.
Tom.
He inhaled the familiar scent, senses all hyperaware with the threat and the oncoming battle, struggling against the grip. He could feel Tom fighting just as hard to keep him there as he was fighting to leave. Damn Riddle.
Didn't he understand at all? Harry's plan would work, and it was the best for everyone involved. The future didn't blow up, and no insane complex combinations of appallingly black magic was needed.
He didn't lose everything.
"Harry," Tom's words tickled his ear in harsh whisper. "Damn it, I will have you handcuffed to the table legs if you don't stop fighting me! Think how embarrassing that would be, for you?"
He dug his elbow in sharply, earning a pained gasp from the Slytherin Heir, held back through gritted teeth, but the hold didn't loosen, instead curling around the offending appendage and snapping. Snapping.
His arm was broken.
Tom just broke his arm.
In the middle of the Great Hall.
In front of the entirety of the school.
Bastard.
He broke the other's foot in response, and the next, the next second there was blackness.
Tom was frantically scrawling in his notebook, a few minutes later, when Harry's eyes blinked open again. He was fully aware of the utter spectacle this fight had been, and found that he couldn't bring himself to care.
He would be leaving this time period soon, what did the opinion of these people matter to him? They wouldn't exist to remember it.
The younger looked absolutely furious.
He couldn't bring himself to care about that either.
At least this way, Harry still had the presence of mind to be angry about such things, rather than being a vegetable.
The teachers and students were beginning to bustle about in preparation for fight, but a good majority - idiots - were still gaping at him and Harry as if there was nothing more interesting in the world to see or do, as if they weren't on the brink of war.
Most people were so stupid, it sickened him.
Harry glared, trying to sit up, only to pause when he couldn't.
Tom glanced up, let a lazy, taunting smirk slip onto his face. He didn't know why Harry seemed to think he was joking when he made threats.
Harry glared even more, tugging at his bound wrists. He watched with some indifference as they began to bleed from the motion. Blood was life.
After a moment, Harry slumped, studying him.
"You cheated."
"Of course," he said. "I couldn't afford to lose, and I never promised to fight fair."
"You're being stubborn."
He raised his eyebrows pointedly in response. Kettle meet Pot.
"You haven't finished your spell, have you?" Harry demanded. "Otherwise the world would be up in flames of oblivion by now…come on, you're not going to finish it within the time you have left…give it up. Let me go. Let me finish this."
"No," he said calmly. "And actually, I'll be done in about five minutes, and you don't have all the parts."
"Don't you need my cooperation?" the other tried. He laughed aloud at that.
"Considering how vocal you tend to be about your lack of support for my plans, do you really think, if I was creating a spell, that it would necessitate your cooperation?"
"What about after the spell, I could make things awfully difficult for you-"
"And that's a change from now…how, exactly?" he returned, absently, still scribbling. H
e was on the finishing touches, really.
He'd planned to do the spell tonight anyway…okay, so next week, after he'd done some tests…but it seemed he was out of time. They'd be gone in half an hour.
Harry's jaw clenched, and he strained once more against the bonds. Tom ignored him, scanning across his page.
"I won't talk to you at all, then," Harry said. "I'll just run. You'll never see me again. That makes this pointless, does it?"
His eyes flashed despite himself, though he kept his tone carefully nonchalant.
"Then I will enjoy hunting you down.
""I'll simply leave again.
""Well, that sounds like interaction," he returned, without missing a beat, meeting those vivid emerald eyes once more.
Harry's gaze darkened in concession to the point, his stare fixed, intent upon this game that wasn't a game.
"You wouldn't be able to keep me there."
"I'm able to keep you around me now," he pointed out, with a hint of smugness.
"You'd get nothing from me."
Ah.
He opened his mouth to retort to that, before freezing, his head tilting. Harry's gaze had darkened…what if it wasn't through concession? Not fully? What if…what if…
"No," he whispered, lashing out with the mind, only to find that Harry had already sought out Voldemort's.
He dropped his quill, ink scattering across the floor, staining his hands and robes and he didn't bloody care, seizing Harry's face tightly, black smearing across red lips and white skin, anything to break his concentration.
Pain.
Harry couldn't do this in pain-his hand moved automatically up to the lightning bolt scar.
Green eyes bled to crimson, and a sad smile made it's way across Harry's lips.
"Empathio reformo."
And then he was screaming.
2) Harmony
"So be it, hero…I speak now to you all…give me Harry Potter and no one else shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I will leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have half an hour."
Neville heard the sibilant hiss as if it had spoken directly into his ear, so full of menace and hatred that it made him shiver.
Magic ran across the hall, and people were panicking, starting to scream with the fear of the Dark Lord and his army. A firm voice cut through the terror where even McGonnagal couldn't (Dumbledore was, once more, elsewhere, busy with war preparations…and wasn't that an irony, considering his school was under attack for that exact fight?) and causing an instant hush, only emphasised by a fire cracker like bang.
His head spun round to the Slytherin Table. Harry and Tom stood side by side, both looking utterly calm, Riddle more so. Their eyes burned with twin flames of determination and, in the Slytherin's gaze, rather too much enjoyment for him to be fully comfortable. It was Harry who had called out.
The students, and even the staff, stared at the two of them - so united, completely in tune with each other, auras crackling with power.
"Panic will not help you," Riddle said softly. "Be calm. It's alright."
Neville couldn't see how it could possibly be alright, but he found himself relaxing marginally under that soothing voice.
"We have half an hour to prepare ourselves," Harry continued. "And we have half an hour to evacuate too, and the necessary means to do it."
"You're not going out there?" McClaggan demanded next to him.
He wondered how the other boy dared.
Harry's eyes flicked over, expression seeming neutral for all the world. Neville couldn't help but wonder how he truly felt.
Riddle's eyes weren't neutral, they sliced through the Gryffindor like lasers, so dark and intense that the boy swallowed, looking down, a red flush of shame creeping across his cheeks.
"Brave little lion, aren't you?" Riddle smiled, cruelly. "You can be the first to leave, and, to answer your question, no, Harry isn't going out there."
There was a tone of finality to Riddle's choice, of absolute ringing command. Harry shot the other a look, half amused, part chiding and a fragment of something else entirely.
Somehow the familiarity of the action comforted him, even as his heart pounded.
"No one is forced to stay, we would never ask that. As I was about to go on to explain, there are several ways out of the castle available to us - namely, the floo from the Headmaster's Office. I know the password, and I'm sure the other Professors would also be willing to open their fireplaces up," Harry said.
The Professor's all agreed, if sounding a little numb. He was somewhat shocked to find these two were taking charge, and then, not really surprised at all.
"Those who do not wish to fight, can make their way to the according escape routes now, in an orderly fashion," Riddle instructed. "No judgement will be passed against you if don't wish to stay."
Somehow, the way he said that, so easily and kindly even, made Neville feel compelled to fight. He knew he wasn't the bravest person, and that he may have been better suited to the House of the Badgers, but something about them - the utter confidence and ease and charm in their tones and postures, perhaps - almost stirred the feeling that he could do anything.
"How do we know where to go?" a small first year student asked, shyly, blushing crimson. Harry smiled at her, thoughtfully.
"Dobby," he called out, after a moment. Neville almost jumped out of his skin at the sharp crack. "Could you and some of the other house elves take those who want to leave to the appropriate exits, and then make sure they get out safely? The castle's under attack."
The House elf's - Dobby's? - eyes shined, and he pulled up a mismatched sock with shoulders drawn back with pride. He almost blinked at the odd sight, and knew many other students were too.
"Dobby would be honoured Harry Potter sir," the elf trembled, cracking a toothy grin, disappearing, before reappearing with more cracks.
Five more House elves stood next to him, though they were meeker looking, more like the house elves he was used to.
"Come follow Dobby please, anyones wanting to leave now." The house elf called, springing nimbly to the door, clashing a frying pan with a spoon like a bell.
"Thanks Dobby, I appreciate it," Harry called out.
And then the two were spreading out, giving orders.
Some left.
Most stayed.
Cho gaped, absolutely stunned at the sight before her.
She remembered when she'd first met Harry Potter properly, he'd been a flustered, slightly awkward and gawky teenager, with a handsome smile and an obvious liking for her that had been both sweet and flattering.
She'd never expected to see him grow to this in a year…except, it was over a year to him, wasn't it?
He had gained a new confidence, coordinating perfectly with Riddle, as if they didn't even need to speak, though they crossed over every now and then, trading words and glances and suggestions and plans.
Touches too, if they happened to meet. A clap on the arm, a brush of shoulders, a tug of a wrist if they needed the other specifically for an area of expertise.
Somehow, it was more intimate and meaningful than any kiss or hug, and she envied the naturalness of their interaction, and the way they seemed to shine.
She heard Harry request the Weasley Twins ready their pranks to be used against the enemies - and was once more reminded of the difference between the innocent boy who'd had a crush on her and the man striding around the Great Hall now.
The old Harry Potter would never have suggested chucking live fireworks into the enemy, in the manner of explosives, knowing full well the lethal damage and distraction such fun sparks could cause.
Tom Riddle had gone around, with a keen eye, splitting people into two groups for different purposes - infantry and cavalry, plans and instructions streaming from his lips at lightning speed, yet concise and easily understandable.
She couldn't help but admire how he seemed to have a grasp on all the skills at his disposal within seconds of someone's company.
He seemed to be forming a multi formed attack, putting different people in charge of the many smaller factions for controllability.
Harry organised some of the Quidditch Teams to use their brooms, flying over head to drop all manner of potions upon the enemy - the volatile substances much like the fireworks - and all manner of other missiles.
Riddle brought every snake in the castle alive, defending, fortified against the Dark Lord's parseltongue with quick, incantations, many of which she didn't recognise.
Even the teachers milled around the duo, offering suggestions, and taking them, deferring to the authority of the two teenagers.
She felt her jaw about to drop in amazement.
McGonnagal transfigured many other things, like the statues, alive in the castle, generally strengthening the wards, like all the teachers were.
Sprout set about finding her deadliest plants, to be set upon their opponent, aided by Neville Longbottom and other students.
Trelawney was bringing down crystal balls as missiles for the Quidditch team, and far too many bottles of sherry to be smashed across unsuspecting heads. She'd never understood why Parvati admired the woman so much, Rowena knew, her sister was smarter.
It was incredible to watch.
Soon both Harry and Tom had crowds around them, people requesting orders, their own initiatives beginning to grow under the capable hands of the 'Slytherin duo.'
She couldn't help but speculate what they would become.
Then Riddle (somewhat coolly, he hadn't liked her since she had so determinedly pursued Harry) ordered her to her own position.
Zevi couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement watching the two of them, a curiosity to see how this was going to play out, and an undying loyalty rushing unwaveringly through his blood stream.
He'd only dreamed of seeing them work together like this, it was magnificent, flawless. They seemed to communicate with only the briefest of words, completely on the same wave length, bouncing ideas off each other across the hall, correcting each other as they went and editing without slowing down.
He also couldn't help but notice, like he was sure many others wouldn't, that they were both enjoying themselves in a way.
Harry would deny it, he was sure, and he was certain Harry didn't like the situation in that people could get hurt and harmed. He was thriving off the danger though, and dance he and Riddle were making.
Whether he liked it or approved of it or not, Harry was in his element, and so was Tom.
He dumped another numerous potions down, unable to feel tired, absolutely wired with the thrill and energy those two were radiating to everyone who came into contact them.
He heard snatches of inspirational speeches and comments. And then, a few minutes later, half an hour dawning it's approach, he saw Harry and Tom come together again more firmly.
Tom seized Harry by the wrist, reeling him closer where they would have normally only spun past each other in their hurry (the most remarkable thing, to him, was the trust they were showing each other, neither trying to assert full control, settled for once in their mutual goal, in sync and only verifying it every so often, filling each other in, not doubting.)
He suspected they did have their own games and plans, still, private to them, but it wasn't affecting their teamwork. Their agendas were, for once and majestically, in agreement.
He noted a notice-me-not surround them, a slight repellent, a muting charm. People would see them, but they wouldn't bother them for the moment.
"We can't stall him forever," Tom said, quietly. Harry's eyes cast around the hall, the only sign in his composure that he was troubled.
"I know. Do you have a plan?"
"Do you?" Tom returned, studying the other. "If it's the Horcruxes, unity and students be damned I will steal you away to the nearest exit."
Harry smirked, faintly, at that, eyes glittering, though sad too.
"Harry," Tom practically growled, dangerously, the grip tightening.
Harry shook his head after a moment.
"It's not that…I…Salazar…let's just say I'm stalling long enough that a bigger army arrives for us. You're not doing your plan either, not today." The words were firm.
"We agreed, did we not?" Tom returned. "And yes, I think I may have a solution."
Harry stared back, waiting for the young Dark lord to sort out his thoughts.
And then he unfortunately slipped into Parseltongue.
Damn it. He always missed the best parts!
Later, Luna watched, sadly distractedly, as Harry and Tom led the attack, twirling around their opponents with such elegance that she would have though them choreographed if not for the chaosmumbiees in the air around them.
It was very pretty.
Most people were preoccupied in their own battles, but she'd always been drawn to the passage of history. And she had always felt invested in these two.
They needed each other so.
It was as breath-taking watching them work in cooperation as it was gripping to see them fight. She smiled to see it, flicking her wand to turn a Death Eater attacking her into a butterfly.
The woman would have probably been happier. Free. Fluttering.
She frowned as a stray spell abruptly shot the butterfly to pieces, before deciding that must just be nature's way.
Harry pushed Tom out the way of a curse, Tom shielded Harry, Harry destroyed a Death Eater about to destroy Riddle, Riddle tugged Harry out the way, almost crushing the younger to his chest for a few second, before spinning the other out again, hands still joined, like a whip, while Harry did a rather fabulous kick, knocking out an approaching threat.
They settled into the dance again.
It was awesome.
Then Voldemort appeared before them.
Harry surveyed Voldemort more calmly then he felt, feeling as if the entire world had slipped away but for the three of them.
Indeed, no other Death Eater dared to try and approach and defeat them in search of glory.
He exchanged a glance with Tom, quick, reaffirming.
The other nodded back.
They shifted to a duelling stance.
It was time to blow Fate to smithereens, the bitch.
Tom was piercingly aware of everything around him, and nothing more than the boy - no, not so much a boy tonight - the man beside him.
Harry Potter Evans.
When the younger had first landed on him in Potions fifty years ago, he'd never imagined that this would be the outcome.
He'd expected a new project, even a prized pet and toy, something challenging soon enough.
Somewhere along that had changed, in some ways.
Harry was still his project, and was still challenging and engaging as if they met yesterday. He was certainly amusing enough to be a toy too, and they played enough games to warrant the name.
But he was so much more than that.
Friend.
Family.
Soulmate.
Enemy.
Rival.
Partner.
He exchanged a glance, before shifting into a duelling stance, meeting the gaze of a crimson future ghost with utter venom.
Just let Voldemort try and take Harry from him. The snake faced man was a dead man walking.
Every day and never.
The world wouldn't know what hit them.
And neither would Lord Voldemort.
They fought.
A/N: Inspirations - From Lord Toewart and Red (thank you both, I hope you enjoyed it)
* "Harry and Tom get in a fight, not one of their little public spats, but a full-out fight, the kinds where Harry gets thrust against walls and Tom gets incredibly vicious. But this doesn't happen in the Slytherin common room, no, it happens in the Great Hall, where everyone is dining. The fight turns into one of their more... intimate rows. In front of the entirety of the , and don't forget this whole thing is told in the eyes of various students, i.e. Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Colin Creevey."
*A suggestion for DD oneshot, Harry and Tom team up and duel against other students, or the death eaters. I don't know I want to see them fight together rather than against each other.
I hope you enjoyed it, and that my somewhat lack of dialogue wasn't too detrimental to my writing quality. As you can see, I tried something different. The basic idea is that it's the same scene, situation, but with the difference of Harry and Tom fighting each other, and working together. Um, yeah. Hope you enjoyed it!