Disclaimer: If you know it, it's from Prisoner of Azkaban. Tragically, I did not write that book. JKR did. Thus, I do not own it.

Edited and reloaded 6 September 2013


When Harry Met Tom


Harry's jaw dropped and he leapt to his feet. Draco cast around in his head why he knew that name. It sounded familiar and was on the tip of his tongue why he knew the name. Harry was gobsmacked, so Draco looked at Hermione for a clue. Her eyes were huge, but she wasn't looking at Tom as if it suddenly all made sense, but rather at Harry— who still appeared to have been told the sun goes round the moon.

"Oh, my," Hermione whispered.

Harry suddenly found his voice.

"You're the guy I've been writing to?! I thought you were an adult! You're the guy who translated— oh! That's…why…you could…oh…"

Harry fell silent and simply stared at the ghost-like being, who was resolutely staring at the ground while facing the wall. An uncomfortable silence fell. Hermione got to her feet and rubbed her hands together. She wore a rather manic, forced smile.

"Well, this is good. Draco's from the future, lived this life once before, Atlanta knows who her birth father is, and we all know who Tom is now! Great. Let's go," Hermione declared.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, wondering what had gotten into Hermione.

Atlanta nodded at Hermione, but took a few tentative steps towards Tom.

"Tom?"

"Atlanta."

"Would you like to speak to Harry on your own?"

Draco felt so confused. "Wait, who is TR DeVinette? I know the name, but—"

"Good idea," Hermione interrupted suddenly, grabbing Draco by the elbow. "Let's go, Draco. Harry, uh, we'll see you at dinner."

Draco got to his feet to stop her incessant pulling. He attempted to protest, as he didn't understand what was going on, but Hermione dragged him to the trap door and pushed him into the hole. He landed with a thud, almost ramming his head into the dirt wall.

"You do realize I hit my head yesterday," Draco grumbled, standing up and dusting himself off.

Hermione landed next to him and shook her head.

"Who is TR DeVinette?"

"He is a Spellsmith. Or just a spell inventor. I can't remember if he was given his mastery or not," Hermione said, pushing Draco to start walking. "He worked with Addy till her death. He invents spells for a living and is rather well known and respected, even if he's a recluse. Though, that is understandable now that I know who he is. Or what he is. I guess he's a who. And OH! His name…Tom Riddle DeVinette. Devinette. It's French for riddle. Oh, he's cheeky. He hates Voldemort, who hates his Muggle past, so he stuck it in his name TWICE! And used French!"

"Hermione, breathe," Draco said.

Hermione sucked in some air before starting again.

"Anyways, the important thing about TR DeVinette is that he's the spellwriter whose spell Harry used to translate Slytherin's journal last year," Hermione reminded Draco. "They've been writing ever since. Harry looks forward to those letters. I guess you failed to notice."

Draco felt lost at sea.

"The guy who translated Slytherin's journals is actually the last heir to Slytherin?" Draco asked, his voice squeaking at the end.

"Ironic," Hermione huffed. "Though, the boy we just met is nothing like how I imagined a teenage Voldemort to be."

"No, you're right. From what Harry said when he met sixteen-year-old Riddle last year…he was rather…"

"On his way to becoming an evil, psychopathic dictator?"

"Yeah. Wait, why was Harry so upset? And why did we leave him behind to talk to Tom on his own?"

"They need to talk. Honeslty, Draco."

"I missed something else, didn't I?"

"I believe you did," Hermione replied and stomped passed him. "It's fascinating how he came into being, though. Born out of a sketch that was imbued with soul magics, potions, and magic. Fascinating."

"Then, he lived with Addy for a few years, then Sirius, then Remus— if I understand the story right."

"True…it does make him a very different person than the actual Tom Riddle. Or the other one."

"Lord Voldemort never lived with others. He never depended on anyone really. This Tom person is dependent on Addy's magic. And now he'd dependent on Atlanta if he wants a change of scenery," Draco mused.

"Quite right," Hermione muttered, tripping over a root. Draco caught her. "Thanks."

"Welcome."

"Harry's been corresponding with him since last year," Hermione whispered. "What are the odds? It's a wonder they got on so well."

"Well, it does explain why he was so excited when Harry wanted to translate the journals," Draco commented.

"It does. It really does," Hermione admitted. "It is kind of creepy. She carries him around in her arm. How does that really work? He said he is aware of where he is. Does that mean there's another method that he's not aware where he is?"

Draco shrugged, pushing the opening at the other end open. He sucked in the fresh air and hurried to help Hermione out.

"And is that why she sometimes cocks her head to the side? Like he can speak to her through her mind or something? It'd explain why she…oh, he must. She responded to him right before she took him out of her arm. Why is it a snake image? It was somewhat…odd to see that woven around her arm."

"Better than an actual snake tattoo," Draco reminded her then shuddered.

"Yes. True."

They were silent as they made their way towards the castle.

"At least Harry knows now. About you."

"Yeah. Though, we didn't tell him the bad news yet," Draco realized. He stopped walking.

"What?"

"Next year. We didn't tell him what is going to happen next year."

"No, but we will. I offered him the scroll we've been working on."

"He's not going to take it well."

"No, I doubt he will. Well, you've told people that next year is the year…he's coming back," Hermione pointed out as they began walking again. A few students passed them. Hermione drew closer to Draco. "Harry heard that…prediction. Do you think a servant went to him?"

"Might have happened. This time, though, it wasn't Pettigrew. He went to Azkaban," Draco said as they started up the stairs. "So that's a changed point in time. Sirius was never free while he was alive."

Hermione pursed her lips tightly together and let out a huff as they entered the castle. "Life is so….confusing."

"Yes. At least I'm not alone any more," Draco laughed bitterly. "I do feel better having Harry know, but I'm worried about getting through his thick head about fixed points in time. He seemed to get it, but his hero complex might not like it down the road."

"True. He might decide to prescribe to Atlanta's theory on time."

"That it's a huge ball of twine?"

"Exactly. It's either a mad woman in a box or a ball of twine," Hermione dryly said as they entered the almost empty Great Hall.

Draco laughed as they sat down at the Gryffindor table together. They began to dish themselves up food.

"Do you think Harry will come back for dinner?"

"No. I'm sure TR and Harry have some things to say to one another."

"You're not going to tell me what I'm missing here, are you?"

"Nope," Hermione grinned, popping a piece of chicken into her mouth.

They ate in relative silence till Ginny sat down across from them, looking cross.

"Ginny?" Draco asked.

"Where have you all been all afternoon? I haven't seen Atlanta or Harry. Did you two go to the village?"

"No. I don't know where they are," Draco lied.

Ginny sighed deeply, frowning. "So, what did happen with Buckbeak? I heard he escaped. The rumors are rather wild, but I assume you two know what actually happened."

Hermione let out a high pitched laugh and collapsed on the table. Draco and Ginny both stared at her.


"So, here's your cube."

Atlanta pulled out a wooden cube, no bigger than a basic alphabet block and set it on the ground near Tom's feet. Tom suddenly was no longer floating above the ground, but looked to be standing on the floor.

"Harry, bring that with you when you're done. We do not know what happens to him when he's away from Addy's magical signature," Atlanta said. She gave him a stern look.

Harry nodded, shifting uneasily on his feet. Harry didn't want to actually be on his own with TR, or rather Tom Riddle. While Harry had been aware of DeVinette looked like thanks to his photo on the back of some of his books, being faced with what Tom actually looked like was jarring.

He was exceptionally good looking. And he sounded…nothing like the other Riddle sounded. Their voices were different, even though Tom was younger than the other version of Riddle Harry had met.

Harry felt like he'd been thrown into the deep end of a swimming pool and was drowning— which wasn't hard to believe as he'd never learned to swim.

"Bring the cube with you when you're done. I'll be in the Common Room," Atlanta said.

Before Harry could ask how he was supposed to explain the new somewhat see through boy with him (who would garner attention simply by how he looked, let alone his semi-transparent state) to anyone he passed in the castle, Atlanta fell through the hole in the floor leaving him alone with the ghost thing who claimed to be TR DeVinette but was really called Tom Riddle.

Said boy stood with his back to Harry staring at the wall again.

"I can travel in the confines of the cube. I dislike it because I cease to exist," Tom drawled, still studying the dusty, wallpapered peeling wall.

"Er, okay. Uh, so…you're…er…uh…erm…you…em…"

"Articulate, aren't you?" Tom sighed.

"I write better than I speak," Harry grumbled. "Also, kinda been assaulted with a lot of information the last twenty-four hours."

Harry rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes.

He was jolted out of his head when he actually heard Tom turn around. His shoes made noise. Harry's head shot up and stared at Tom, who was looking right at Harry now instead of the wall he had been glaring at since Atlanta left. Tom kicked the cube closer to Harry and "walked" closer.

"My magic is leaking out of your head," Tom stated. "I've been dying to look at your forehead closer since January."

Harry had no idea how to respond.

Tom's eyes were dark blue, Harry suddenly realized as the boy stood before him. He was looking more solid now that he was standing almost on top of the cube on the ground.

Now that he was standing closer to Harry, Harry could study him better. Tom's eyes were dark blue, Harry suddenly realized as the boy stood before him. He was looking more solid now that he was standing almost on top of the cube on the ground. Harry also began to notice subtle difference between this Tom and the version Harry had met last summer. Both were breathtakingly handsome, but the eyes, the hair, the height and oddly the bone structure were different. The Tom before Harry also lacked the evil, maniacal energy the other had had.

This one seemed utterly calm and sunny compared to the other one.

"He did not," Tom breathed, his eyes going large.

Tom was taller than Harry— then again,who wasn't— so he had to look down to meet Harry's eyes. Tom's deep sapphire eyes darted between Harry's emerald ones for a long moment before snapping back to his forehead. He reached out with a long finger. Harry waited for the feeling of Tom's finger going through his head. He assumed it would feel like when a ghost went through you, but it didn't. Instead he felt a solid finger trace his scar. It wasn't a warm finger, nor was it cold. It was simply solid.

"Interesting," Tom murmured. "What did he do?"

"Tried to kill me," Harry bitterly reminded the other boy.

"Obviously," Tom drawled, dropping his hand and standing up straight. "I've seen this before."

"A scar leaking magic? Or this scar?"

"The leaking magic," Tom replied. "It was out of a crown Addy found in the junk room she and Regulus tended to hang out within. The same room that boy Malfoy knew set on fire."

Harry rubbed the scar absently and stared up at Tom.

"I knew your mother," Tom suddenly said. He looked upset.

"You did?" Harry asked, eyes going large.

Tom nodded. "I actually liked her."

He sounded almost surprised and scowled.

"Then why are you frowning?"

"She died. I knew she was going to die," Tom admitted, frowning further. "Malfoy explained fixed points to you and you do understand, right? Something must happen for time to continue. Addy didn't believe this till after she realized she was changing nothing. She was also afraid to change things too much as she didn't know when Malfoy was going to show up. Because of how many things revolved around…that event in time, she knew she'd be unable to change it. It was fixed, likely…"

Harry felt a barrage of emotions and stumbled backwards.

"I'm apologize. I've always felt…" Tom twisted his mouth and scowled at the ground. "Displeasure at being unable to stop it."

"Did you try?"

Tom nodded, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes. "I tried to dissuade Sirius from letting the rat be the Secret Keeper. He failed to listen to me."

"He mentioned that," Harry admitted.

Tom snorted.

"Did you know my dad too, then?"

"I met him once," Tom said. "The day I met all of them, except Pettigrew. I never met him formally. Addy did not believe it was a good idea to introduce us."

"But, you knew my mum better?"

Tom nodded. "She was brilliant. Very clever. It was a tragic loss to loose someone like her before she had a chance to make…to make a difference."

Tom turned and kicked the cube back across the room.

"Even though she was Muggleborn?" Harry asked, feeling very confused suddenly. "I thought you hated Muggleborns."

"No," Tom said, turning sharply. "He hates them. I didn't think much of them, granted, until I found myself…with Addy, but I never wanted them wiped off the face of the Earth. That is…nonsensical."

Tom "stomped" across the room to where the cube had landed. He didn't make noise till he was about a foot from the cube.

"My views on the matter changed greatly the more time I spent with Addy and in her time," Tom added as an afterthought. "And your mother was brilliant. And powerful."

"Oh," Harry said, unsure what to say and yet felt rather pleased by what Tom had just said. "No one tells me much about her. My mum."

Tom turned sharply. "Excuse me? Why ever not?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. I hear about my dad, but never her."

Tom made an odd noise in the back of his throat. "I can try to answer any questions you have on Lily. We exchanged letters after graduation and spoke on numerous occasions on spell composition."

Harry nodded.

The two stood in an uncomfortable silence for a while. Tom kicked his cube around, heading into another room. Harry could no longer see him, but he heard the cube hit the ground, skipping every now and then. Occasionally, he heard Tom's shoes as he stomped and kicked.

"Tom?"

"Yes?" Tom called from a front room.

"You kept writing to me because you figured out who I was, didn't you?"

Tom didn't answer. Harry sighed. Soon, Harry heard the cube skipping along the floor till Tom re-entered the room. He wore a rather hurt expression.

"I wrote back to you because you translated a Parseltounge book," he said, holding his hands behind his back and appearing older than his fifteen years. "As far as I knew, only Voldemort and myself were able to read and write it. I was curious to know where you'd found this journal written by Slytherin. I didn't realize I was writing to Harry Potter till Atlanta brought me to Hogwarts and I saw your owl. I kept writing because I was interested in the journals. I did not realize till after our second exchange you could read Parseltounge and knew exactly what you had had before you had used the translation spell. You had found the Chamber of Secrets, did you not?"

Harry nodded.

"I never found it," Tom said. "I looked, but I'd yet to find it before…"

Tom made a vague motion to himself.

"Oh, so you're…from before he found it?"

"Yes. That is also why we look different," Tom pointed out. "I know you noticed."

Harry nodded. "Does it have to do with Atlanta?"

"It does," Tom agreed easily. "But, I enjoy our correspondence. You're rather clever, even though I'm afraid that at some point you were told you weren't allowed to show just how clever you are. I've noticed in the past year it comes out more and more, though."

Harry itched the side of his nose. "I, uh, well, I wasn't supposed to do better than Dudley at school. Or I got in trouble."

Tom made a rather angry sounding noise and muttered darkly to himself.

"Yeah…but, since I've been at Hogwarts, I've been, well, trying harder. Draco and Hermione…well, it's hard not to be good at school with those two around. Though, I guess Draco's so smart because he already did it."

"He is not what I expected," Tom admitted, kicking the cube across the room and following it. "From how Addy spoke of him, I expected a spoiled brat with no exceptional talent."

"Draco?"

"Hmmm. Yes. But, she didn't really know the man he had turned into when he chose to travel through time," Tom admitted.

"This is all so…hard to grasp," Harry admitted.

"Quite right. Even for the magical world, this current situation is somewhat far fetched," Tom scoffed. "Then again, I doubt anything like this has really happened."

"Yeah, I dunno," Harry said, raking a hand through his hair. He rubbed his forehead. "Uh, should I be worried about this scar? I mean, uh, first year when Quriellmort was around, it hurt a lot."

"Quirellmort?" Tom asked, turning his sharp eyes to Harry.

"Er, there was this professor who was possessed by Voldemort."

Tom's hands hung limply at his side and he frowned. He tossed his hair out of his eyes again, then pressed his palms together, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. He studied Harry's forehead for several moments before speaking.

"It hurt, while Voldemort was near? Did it hurt when I touched it?"

"Er, no. It felt solid, but nothing like what I felt first year. Draco said it was because Voldemort was near…but if you're the same…"

"His magic is tainted and changed," Tom reminded Harry. "While it is similar to my magic, it's not mine. He infused his magic with Atlanta's. He also dove very deep into the Dark Arts. It altered his magic more drastically than whatever spell he performed with Atlanta. As to being worried? I doubt there is much you can do. Just…if it pains you, remember what you are doing or who is close."

Harry rubbed it again.

"Dumbledore said it might be a connection between us," Harry confessed.

He glanced up, surprised to see the look of disgust on Tom's face. For some reason, the look of disgust further made him feel at ease. Something within him knotted and he knew that while he might still be kind of confused and hurt, everything was going to be fine.

Tom wasn't Lord Voldemort.

Harry went back to looking at the ground.

"He said…well, I told him about the whole prickling thing and he said I'd feel pain when Voldemort was feeling especially…uh, evil," Harry explained, then jerked, looking up. "Oh, you touched me."

Tom blinked, bemused expression painting on his face.

"Voldemort can't touch me without feeling a lot of pain. Because of what my mum did," Harry said quietly.

"Oh," Tom said, his eyes going large. "Oh! Yes. He would over look that sort of magic. That is very old magic."

"But, you know it?"

"Harry, I've had a lot of time on my hands and no where to go," Tom dryly reminded him.

"Oh. Yes. Right."

They fell silent again.

"Now what?" Harry asked when he could no longer stand it.

"The sun is setting," Tom stated. "It's likely time for dinner and your friends will be wondering where you've gotten to. We ought to return to the castle."

Harry watched the boy across the room, feeling his stomach knot and flop over. He swallowed heavily and bit his lip.

"I hope to see you over the summer," Tom said quietly, looking at the ground. He was standing right above the cube. "Sirius is able to visit the flat and as one of the Secret Keepers he will be able to let you in. Will you come visit?"

Tom glanced up from through his hair, suddenly looking like the teenage boy he appeared to be. Harry let go of his bottom lip and smiled at the boy across the room.

"Sure. Wait, don't you technically live with Lupin?"

Tom rolled his eyes, flopping his hair out of his eyes. "Yes. It is highly likely Sirius will be visiting often in attempt to repair his relationship with Remus."

"Oh. Yes. Okay."

"Then, till later."

Tom grinned at him and vanished into the cube. Harry walked across the room, bending down and picked up his friend.

Friend.

He had a ghost thing for a friend. A ghost thing that lived in a cube and looked like a teenage boy, yet was actually quite a bit older.

A friend who he'd thought was an adult for the past year.

Well, if his life was normal and predictable, then he wouldn't be Harry Potter.

Pocketing the cube, Harry headed out.