When the white owl he didn't recognize landed in front of him at the dining table with all the grace of a noble woman the Monday following Samhain Tom couldn't help but be concerned. The beautiful snowy fixed him in a haughty amber gaze, stuck her leg out towards him and, after he'd removed the letter she carried, absconded with his bacon. The handwriting was immediately recognizable as belonging to his son but clearly penned with a shaking hand; concern flooding through him Tom ripped open the envelope so quickly that he almost tore the letter inside and hastily unfolded it.

"Darling," both of his parents' eyes were resting on him in concern, "what's wrong?"

"I don't know, mother." More shaky handwriting marred with so many ink splatters it was almost illegible. His son had obviously not waited even a moment to give the ink the chance to dry. And that meant whatever he'd written had to be urgent. "It's from Junior."

Grey eyes scanned the entirety of the letter. Once. Twice. Growling when he failed both times to make out what the near unintelligible scrawl was attempting to convey. He could only make out a few words and broken phrases. 'Harrison's owl'. 'He overheard and warned me'. 'Reminder'. 'Custody'. 'Plot'. And 'Dumbledore'.

Everything clicked.

The letter erupted in dark red flames as every piece of glassware in the room exploded, peppering their surroundings with shards of crystal and china. The back of Tom's chair hit the dining room floor with a sound like a gunshot as its occupant leapt to his feet, almost upsetting the entire table for good measure, and started to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. Fists clenching and finger nails biting deep enough into the flesh of his palms to draw blood.

It felt like he was on fire. His blood was boiling. Skin hot and tight. Something desperate and animal inside him roared at the insult that the older man had dared to commit. The slight against him and his family that was even considering an attempt to mess with his clutch! Clutch? Son! He needed to keep his head on straight and not get swept away by whatever bestial thing had exploded awake inside him with enough force to move mountains. He'd be lost for certain if he didn't. Would give in to the urge to rush to the castle and tear it down brick by brick until his nails were broken and his fingers bloody and he'd gotten to the man that would dare to threaten Junior. Would rip off his head. Break his body. Burn him into ashes.

If he was tossed into Azkaban for murder what would Junior do? He'd have his grandparents of course but it would still hurt him. But it was hard to fight against it. Impossible to reign himself in. He'd never, even once in his life, been anything close to this angry before.

He could finally feel his magic, boiling up from the same monstrous place as the fury and certain to cut itself off again the moment that his mood cooled. It whipped around him like coronal wind. Crackled over his skin like a pyroclastic flow roaring down the sides of a volcano. Intoxicating. Easy to sink into despite the blistering heat.

No! Focus! Don't lose yourself to this because it isn't going to fix anything! All it will do is make you lose him forever!

"Tom!" His father's voice; it sounded like he'd been yelling his name for a while now. He hadn't been able to hear over the thunderous rush of his blood in his ears. Tom jumped and looked up, freezing in place mid-stride. "What's wrong, Tom. What was that letter?"

"From Junior." His voice didn't sound right. Raspier. Sharp. If it unnerved his parents they did a good job of not showing it. The energy which had broken loose inside him boiled over again. Filled him from head to toe. Uncontainable. Steam. Magma. He resumed pacing with a low hiss of rage. "A warning. It was his roommate's owl, leant to him because he'd already sent his along with a letter to let me know he'd gotten back safely. Harrison overheard Dumbledore talking to himself; he wants to turn Junior into some sort of monster! Wants to file a custody dispute on account of a 'Muggle' being unfit as a Magical Guardian and plans to have him sent back to that awful orphanage!" Another snarl broke through before he managed to voice the final bit of information. "And the worst part of it all is that that bloody bastard has every intent of using some sort of Hex of Compulsion to 'remind me' of just what circumstances led to Junior being born so that I wouldn't make an effort at putting up a fight! Never mind that the Lordship Ring would have protected me, the fact that he'd even consider such a thing is inexcusable!"

"Is Tommy alright?"

"Shaken, but fine. Dumbledore wouldn't dare to lift a finger to do anything to him while we're standing in the way." The speed of his pacing had increased. The room seemed to blur around him. Sweat from a combination of heat and exertion pasted his fringe to his brow. "This can't stand. Something must be done. Within the next few days but preferably immediately. I don't have the time to search for a mind healer abroad and sit through months of treatment. I have to reveal myself as the Lefay Lord now. And see about protections. Setting them up around the manor to make sure absolutely nothing underhanded can be done! Yes. That's exactly what I'll do."

"Tom," his father's tone carried a clear warning "you're not in any shape to be going anywhere. Not in this state. You look near deranged."

"Deranged? He threatened my son!"

"Tom-!"

"There isn't time for waiting!" He was out the door of the dining room a moment later, across the hall and pounding down the stairs. Eyes set on the door. He'd only paused long enough to grab the focus from the study and jam it into place on his finger, necessary as it was to summon the hellish bus which was his only option if he wanted to make it to the Ministry of Magic in a timely enough manner to spare his sanity. He didn't need Wizarding attire. Didn't have the time to change. A button up and slacks was what they'd get and have to deal with because he had more important matters to concern himself with at just that moment than formal decency thank you very much!

Reaching the fifth stair, he flung himself down the remainder of the staircase and lunged for the door.

Snape had been just seconds shy of knocking when the front door of the manor was wrenched open with so much force that the hinges almost bent and he only narrowly managed to avoid being trampled by the figure that stampeded through it like a raging Colchis Bull. Even still he couldn't evade the impact and had to dig his feet in against the old wooden planks of the manor's porch to prevent himself from toppling, and ended up forcing the perpetrator to a stop as well.

Riddle, looking feral enough to rival a werewolf on a full moon and with his face set into an expression which could only be described as homicidal, snarled at him. Full out bared his teeth and growled like an animal. Snape noticed with a shock of surprise that the man's grey eyes were slit pupiled and boiled with the sort of rage which could only belong to something very dangerous and very threatened. The front of his expensive button down was drenched in sweat, the heat of his skin through the damp fabric almost enough to raise blisters on his hands, and when he spoke he didn't sound like himself at all.

"Get out of my way!"

He'd come to deal with a man with potion damage, not whatever this was, but despite feeling as if he were attempting to fend off a raging Horntail with nothing but his bare hands Snape knew he couldn't in good conscious allow Riddle to go tearing off to wherever he was headed and burn down a village because that was honestly what he looked about ready to do at that moment.

Riddle wasn't that much taller than him but was considerably better built thanks to the laborious nature of his chosen hobby, and the rage behind him made the man almost as strong as an Abraxxian but somehow the raven managed to summon up the strength to push him back against the manor door which had banged shut in his wake. His back hit the wood with enough force to make it shudder on its frame and Tom snarled again but Snape acted faster. Summoning a Calming Draft from his potion's kit he pounced, forcing the brunet's chin up and his head back against the door before pouring the contents down his throat. Clenching his jaw shut and pinching his nose until his efforts to spit on instinct faltered and he swallowed.

When he released him, the taller man sagged down the door until he was sitting on the porch staring, dazed, up at him as his pupils slowly expanded back to their normal rounded state.

"You didn't say anything about being a bloody Creature, Riddle!"

"Severus?" the raven almost felt sorry for how entirely off kilter the other man sounded. "What are you doing here?"

"I reconsidered your offer to hire me for the treatment you needed done, but be aware I'm neither a licensed mind healer nor cheap."

"Name your price, I told you that last time. Money isn't an issue." After three attempts he managed to get to his feet but almost toppled over when he attempted to walk, catching himself against the nearby banister. "Any price."

"And you need to be honest with me; no more withholding information. What sort of Creature are you?"

"Not a Creature." He huffed, hobbling along the banister towards the porch stairs. "My ancestor just had a bender with Dragon's blood. We can set an appointment by owl later; I need to get to the Ministry-."

Snape grabbed the other man by the shoulder, easily able to restrain him now that whatever had caused his outburst had passed, taking with it most of his strength. "You're in no state to be going anywhere. You can barely stand."

He rounded on him then, almost pitching backwards onto the lawn, but through some miracle managed to stay upright. "Albus Dumbledore is trying to steal my son!"

What? Was this some product of exhaustion? Or maybe of the damage that the exposure to Amortentia had done to him? Was it real? If so, why? "You're not in any state for this, Riddle." He said it more firmly now; would get to the bottom of matters later. "Looking like you do now and barely able to stand, all rushing to the Ministry will do is play into his hands. What you need to do is clean up and rest. I'll be back in the evening to evaluate whether or not you're well enough to undergo the treatment. If you are, we'll go through the first round and then I'll take you to the Ministry."

"You're going to help me?" Damn it all, did Riddle have to go and make puppy dog eyes? Did he even realize he was doing it?

"That's what I said." Snape drawled, averting his gaze to better ensure he remained unaffected.

"And there'll be an added cost to that, I'd assume?"

"No," the raven said with a sigh, still focused on the door over Tom's left shoulder. "We'll just consider it included."

Because Lily would almost certainly have killed him otherwise.