Harry wasn't quite breathing easy.

Tom's expression was still too calm; he'd managed to act as something of a buffer, and wind the older boy down from murder, but that didn't mean everything was safe.

It meant that Tom was calm and level-headed, and that anything that happened from now on was calculated.

Tom was sly; Harry already knew that the Slytherin Heir was capable of waiting and striking at the opportune moment when he was calm like this. For all Harry knew, he could have stored this whole incident away for later.

It was difficult to tell if he had actually gotten away with anything or not.

But he could hope.

He'd filled the young Dark Lord in on the situation and all that had happened with Pettigrew anyway, receiving a quiet hum in response.

And, all too soon, they were facing the rat as he tried to flee the borders of Hogwarts.

Tom Riddle had formidable tracking skills, especially combined with the map and magic. Harry was half convinced Riddle did it just to prove how utterly screwed Harry would be if he ever tried to run and disappear somewhere.

Peter Pettigrew quivered before them, pasty faced and sweating, seeming to be trying to shrink into himself as much as possible. Harry could feel something dangerous coiling up inside of his chest, hot and threatening to strike.

Then the rat bolted, and Tom had him twisted and strung up in a split second, trapped.

If possible, Pettigrew grew even paler.

"Well now," Tom murmured, settling a hand on Harry's shoulders. "What are you going to do with him then now that we've got him?"

Harry blinked.

"I'll give him to the Ministry. Then they can set Sirius free. After that…after that the Dementors can have him." There were few fates he could think of that were worse than spending time with those things, however much they were supposed to be Tom's allies.

Tom's fingers flexed and pressed groundingly into his shoulder.

"No – no, Harry – you look just like your father – let me explain-" Pettigrew whimpered.

Tom flicked out a silencing charm, gaze not even shifting to the rat.

"And you will be satisfied with that as your vengeance?" the Slytherin Heir spoke softly by his ear. "He's not going anywhere, after all."

Harry glanced at Riddle, a little startled, his mouth running dry. Then he looked back at Pettigrew again, that something twisting in his stomach again. That tingling blood lust in his palms that had him lunging for Sirius' throat in the hospital wing.

"He's the reason your parents are dead, after all," Tom continued. "He betrayed those who trusted him and considered him their friend. Once he's at the ministry, it's out of your hands."

"They'd know I did something," Harry replied, hollowly. He didn't know, himself, if he was using getting caught by the Ministry as an excuse not to, or if he was asking for a legitimate way around that issue.

Tom's hand settled on his other shoulder, as if bracing him in position, before a wand was slid into his grip – arms still hanging with loose numbness at his sides.

He looked down, to see a familiar yew wand pressed against his palm. Tom's wand.

His heart hammered.

"Come on, show me what you can do," Tom said, breath warm against his ear, hands settling on his shoulders again. "He deserves it, you know he does. Maybe I'll teach you something new as well."

Harry's head was spinning. Pettigrew thrashed in front of him, mouth open in silent plea and scream.

Tom's wand was almost thrumming in his touch, as if it was eager too. Hungry.

Tom didn't seem the type to offer his own wand up lightly either, and the thought sent a thrill through his veins. Maybe this was a peace offering. Maybe it was a sign of trust. Maybe.

Certainly, when he was already on thin ice he wasn't sure how wise it would be to refuse. It wasn't like they were killing the rat, was it? His blood was pounding, boiling at the mere sight of the traitor.

It would, no doubt, be easy. But maybe that scared him more.

And yet…Tom loved teaching him Dark Arts, doing this would mellow his mood the rest of the way for sure! Then, no one he actually cared about would get hurt.

The nausea that had started when Tom stepped into the Hogsmeade cave, only grew stronger. His knees felt jellied all over again. A twisted, torn set of instincts between kindness and vengeance.

Despite the fact that Riddle's fingers were kneading comforting circles into his tense muscles, somehow he felt even more under pressure than ever before.

Sure, he used Dark Arts with Bella – but that was duelling. It wasn't torture, however arguably justified.

This was a step. And not one he felt entirely ready or right in taking. He could feel Tom pressed against his back.

Harry swallowed, pointing the wand with a sickeningly steady hand, though he felt all scrambled up inside. He tried to think of the right spell.

"Lacero."

He was glad that he couldn't actually hear the screaming, but he could see the effects well enough as tears streamed down the rat's face, and he bucked and twisted on the spot; skin tearing and bones breaking.

"Very good," Tom breathed. There was something obscene and awful in the fact that the praise still warmed up his insides, and the spell sputtered out.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Of course, there was a satisfaction to seeing the man who betrayed his parents howling out in pain, but that just made it worse. He was pretty sure from, what everyone had told him about them, that James and Lily Potter were not the type to encourage this type of behaviour. They wouldn't want this.

"I won't do too much," he blustered. "The Ministry would get suspicious."

"Why don't I show you one?" Tom suggested. Harry nearly froze, but passed the wand over as the Slytherin stepped around him. "After all, I'm most curious about our friend here too. I'd like a few questions answered, if he is amenable."

He gave Pettigrew the very same chillingly pleasant smile he'd given Harry earlier.

"First though, what happened the night of Halloween?" Tom asked, flicking his wand to cut the silencing charm as Pettigrew squirmed. The rat's eyes were nearly popping out of his head with terror.

"I-there was a Fidelius-"

"Yes, we know all about the secret keepers, and your treachery." Tom sounded bored. "My concern is…why did the Dark Lord go after the first place? And did you know that doing so would bring about his downfall?"

"What?" Harry's head snapped to Tom at that question, before to Pettigrew. He'd never even considered the possibility of Halloween being a trap for Voldemort.

Pettigrew was now distinctly the colour of gone off porridge, as he looked between them. Harry folded his arms, chin jutting up.

He wondered if the rat knew who he was talking to, specifically. He'd lived as Scabbers, he must do. Which was why there was absolutely no way he could give the right answer to that question either way.

"Actually, I'm quite curious about that too." Anyone looking at him would be disturbed by the pleasantness of his smile too. "Why did you sell out your friends?"

"The Dark Lord - he would have killed me – you have no idea what he's capable-"

Harry laughed at that, teeth baring in what just about passed as a grin, however vicious.

"I think I have some idea, actually." He glanced at Tom.

"Please," Pettigrew began.

"I think it's time for that demonstration," Riddle murmured, with an aside to him. "I would be impressed if you could pull it off already – crucio."

It was one of the worst things Harry had ever seen. So terrible that it was almost fascinating, in a grotesque sort of way. His whole body stilled, staring wide-eyed, bile clawing up his throat. The scream was the most piercing, awful thing he'd ever heard.

The spell – the curse – left no physical marks, but the pain it caused was obvious.

"Unlike most spells that you have been taught," Tom said, "you need to mean this one. You need to want to cause pain." The young Dark Lord still wasn't even looking at Pettigrew, posture relaxed as if he were teaching Harry how to cast Wingardium Leviosa and not how to torture someone. "Although I wouldn't recommend casting it in lighter companies. The Cruciatus curse, is one of three unforgiveable curses. The use of any one of them is enough to leave you in jail for life. But…nonetheless, they are effective."

Harry knew this now to be an interrogation, but how could Riddle be standing talking so calmly?

"Maybe it's safer not to use it then," Harry managed, over the noise of the warded area. Tom laughed, turning his gaze to Pettigrew as he began to twitch.

"You know how I feel about limitations, Harry."

Eventually, he just couldn't stand it, grabbing the hem of Riddle's sleeve.

"That's enough," his voice was hoarse. He knew…he knew why Tom was doing this, and it was far more than just revenge, but…bloody hell.

"Is it?" Tom's, by comparison, was mild. Thoughtful in consideration; but the look that speared Harry was the same dark one from earlier again all of sudden. Harry squared his shoulders.

"Yes."

"He either betrayed your parents or betrayed me. Neither one deserves to go unpunished."

"And Voldemort killed my parents." He held the Slytherin's gaze. "I doubt you would be ad-" what was the word? – no, it was gone – "telling me to treat him in the same way if we caught up with him."

"You seem to be getting into the alarming habit of trying to give me orders when it comes to mercy," Riddle commented. Harry resisted the urge to wet his lips, nervously, and he tugged on Tom's wrist to force the curse to cut.

Pettigrew slumped in his bonds, retching and shuddering miserably.

"He's going to the Dementors," Harry muttered. That's not merciful. If I was feeling merciful, I would kill him."

"And yet you would not see me kill the dog?" Tom's brows arched. Harry could feel that sense of entrapment tightening around his throat and chest again.

"That was different! He hadn't done anything to deserve it."

He couldn't tell what the expression on Riddle's face was, whether it was amusement, or something far more sinister.

"And yet either way, your sudden confidence to give me orders remains."

Harry was getting a bad feeling, because Tom was giving him that smile again now. He tried to think of what the right thing to say in this situation was again, and hoped if he thought of something that he'd actually manage to get it out considering how dry his mouth had gone again.

The silence stretched, and Riddle's eyes gleamed. Maybe it was supposed to be amusement still, but Harry found it more ominous than anything else. Then Tom turned to Pettigrew once more, flicking the wand once more.

"Nonetheless, is our friend here feeling more co-operative?"

Pettigrew looked between them, something desperate in his eyes.

"It was Dumbledore's – Dumbledore's plan. I don't know why. He didn't tell us, but he knew why…why you-know-who was after the-after James and Lily. He – he keeps things close to his chest."

Harry's insides dropped out, eyes narrowing. He had no idea if the rat was telling the truth or not, considering suggested already that he could be deceitful…but the implications of if he was left him cold. And yet, there was a strong chance that Pettigrew was just saying that in the face of Tom, if he knew in anyway who he was talking to. In which case, he'd simply judged Tom to be the greater threat in the face of Harry's own capabilities for mercy.

And what did that then say, if everyone would cater to Tom because they thought it was safer to do that, then giving Harry what he needed? His head spun at the thought. And yet…wasn't mercy a good thing? Now was hardly the time to think about it.

Riddle hummed, before the wand twisted in his hands again.

"Legilimens."

It was the first time Harry had ever seen Tom attack someone with mind arts, and it made him beyond grateful that he was learning Occlumency because he could practically see the rat's mind crumbling under the force of the onslaught.

He withdrew within a minute, and Pettigrew hung limp. Harry's attention was on Tom now, just as hungry for information even if he was perhaps a tad less ruthless in his pursuit of it.

"Anything?" he asked, softly.

"He doesn't know why my counterpart went after your parents," Tom said, guessing rightly that was the part Harry was most interested in. Harry did wonder though, how much the man was potentially leaving out.

"And?" he prompted, hopefully. "Was it a trap?"

"That remains to be seen." Tom's eyes were narrowed as he considered their panting prisoner. Harry swallowed.

"So you didn't find anything?" He had no proof Tom would tell him, even if he did. "Truth, you'd tell me if you did, right?"

Tom looked at him for a moment, quietly, before back to Pettigrew.

"I believe we should be getting him to the Ministry for now."

There was an uneasy feeling in Harry's gut.


Sirius lurched to his feet, the second he saw Tom Riddle again. His eyes narrowed, and he wished more than anything that he had a better wand for himself to use.

"You'll be pleased to know," the Dark Lord said, in a deceptively casual tone of voice. "That we located Pettigrew. You are on your way to becoming a…" Riddle's lips twisted, "free man."

Except with that disgusting mark on his arm, he didn't feel quite so free at all.

"Is Harry alright?" That had to be his first concern. Riddle already knew it was, considering however much time he'd spent as a dog, he had nonetheless spent half of his summer in the man's home.

It was rare, but in the evenings when Harry was asleep, he would occasionally change back. They would talk – largely about Harry, but still. Not that he would ever like Riddle or anything. The bastard wouldn't lift a finger to help anyone if it didn't benefit himself.

"You should be more concerned about yourself."

Sirius's eyes flashed.

"If you've done something to-"

"That would bother you, wouldn't it?" Riddle questioned in a honeyed tone, stepping closer to him. "Your godson being hurt because of you."

Sirius's jaw clenched. He hadn't wanted to break somebody's face this much since Halloween.

"I'm his godfather. It's my job to look after him. It's your self-claimed job to do so too, so clearly you should have just as much stake in ensuring he is unharmed as I do."

Riddle laughed, apparently seeing straight through the attempt behind that comment.

"It would hurt Harry rather a lot to see you punished because of him, too," the Dark Lord continued, twirling his wand in his hand. "Seems a fitting system to get you both to behave. Anything you do wrong, and I'm sure he'll happily offer to accept punishment for you. He already did so once today. So, just to clarify." The spell sent him writhing to the floor, trying not to howl in pain.

Riddle reached down, grabbing a hank of hair to pull him roughly on his knees, face bent low, expression purely venomous.

"If you ever dare challenge me, or go against my orders, this is what he is going to feel. And he will be grateful for it because he will choose it. Back off, he is mine. Are we understood?"

Sirius glared, furiously.

"I said," Riddle all but sang. "Are we understood? Or do we need a lesson?"

"Excellent." The curse cut, and the Dark Lord straightened. Sirius shoved himself up too, however wobbly he felt.

"I could just show him this."

"…and hurt him further," Riddle returned, lip curling. "You know he'd only blame himself. What good would it do? You asked him to come with you, and he picked me."

"Because he's trying to protect the people he actually cares about," Sirius replied. "Hardly the victory you're looking for, is it?" The lack of immediate response told him the blow had hit, and he grinned wildly, eyes manic. "You're as tied to seeming in his good graces as I am. That's why you're doing this now, instead of in front of him."

"The point stands," Riddle said stiffly. Sirius nearly laughed, amazed, delirious and giddy almost.

Of course, Harry was in great danger of succumbing to Riddle, and to some extent he was being drawn closer and closer like a fly trapped in a spider's web…but, for the first time, it clicked that maybe it was more complicated than that.

For all his doubt in Dumbledore for letting him rot in Azkaban for 12 years, he had to believe that Light Lord (even if for selfish or manipulative reasons) would have acted to pull Harry away from the Dark Lord's area of influence if he didn't think they could still win.

Harry could win.

…the problem was the cost of such triumph.

Riddle's head tilted, as he examined him in greater scrutiny than he had before. Looking at him for the first time as if he was more than a mutt or a pawn, a toy to keep Harry deceptively content with life on the dark side.

"Halloween night," Riddle begun, seemingly on a different tangent. The giddy feeling plunged into icy depths. "Did your precious Light Lord, know, do you think? He put the Potter's under protection. Obviously he knew of something that he didn't share with the rest of you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"There are sacrifices in war, and something happened that Halloween when the killing curse backfired. Of course, there are such things as coincidences, but…" Riddle shrugged.

"Dumbledore is a good man. He wouldn't sacrifice the Potters," Sirius snarled. The mere thought left something rotting inside of his gut.

Riddle merely gave him that pleasant smile that he was growing to hate so much.

"Maybe you should take the opportunity of your freedom to investigate why you were wrongfully imprisoned in the first place."

The git left the way that he came, as the first snow of the season began to fall.


A/N: Holy fuck, I actually have a plot? :O Open arc 3 soon enough? But nonetheless. Next up, Christmas! is here! And why the hell do I never get to Christmas at Christmas? Like, seriously. I have the luck of always writing Christmas in the height of summer? How does that work!