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the new year

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Christmas Day, 1938

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Tom wakes up to Harry tugging on his arm and chanting, "Tom, wake up, it's Christmas," over and over.

"I'm awake," Tom says, trying to shake Harry off of him. "I'm awake."

"We get to open presents," Harry says cheerfully. "Presents!"

"Yes, yes," Tom says. "Very exciting. I wonder if we got anything useful." Chocolates are better than nothing, but Tom doesn't particularly care for sweets when there are far more interesting things to be gifted.

"Tom," Harry says, voice disapproving.

"I'll just have to drop hints next time," Tom says, unbothered as he gets out of bed. "In fact, what would be best is if they got us the next year's books so we wouldn't have to buy them." As Harry retreats to arm's length, Tom takes a moment to ponder over Harry's exuberance over holidays and presents.

The spirit of it is all fine and well, but really it's all just a game, the act of presents. Flashes of money and power and favours. Of course, Tom doesn't doubt that absolutely none of that had crossed Harry's mind when he'd gone out of his way to make his presents, and Tom is rather glad that Harry had chosen to handle it, because it seemed to win respect in the eyes of his friends, and would perhaps result a bit of leverage to call in later on.

Harry leads Tom by the arm downstairs to the common room, where Tom can see there is a large assortment of presents resting underneath a large tree. There are some older Gryffindor students who are already awake and playing Exploding Snap by the fireplace.

All of the gifts for Tom and Harry are grouped in two piles on the left side of the tree. Harry kneels down and pulls them all out.

"Let's open them upstairs," Tom says, not wanting to give up any more moments of privacy if he doesn't have to. He takes some of the boxes from Harry, then marches back up the stairs to their blessedly-empty dorm.

Tom picks up his gift from the Greengrass twins, tearing neatly into the wrapping paper and revealing a cardboard box. Opening the box up, Tom dumps its contents onto his bed. One of the items is a leather wand holster, which Tom snatches up for closer examination, wondering which sister had had the sense to pick it out.

"I've got one, too," Harry says, waving his own holster around. "Did you read the card?"

Tom hadn't. He picks it up, eyeing the artistic cover. It's animated, which means there is snow falling across the picture of a sparkling night sky, like it's a flat snow globe rather than a Christmas card.

Flipping it open, Tom reads the sharp cursive that distinguishes Annalise's handwriting from Adelaide's.

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Dear Tom,

Wishing you a Merry Christmas, a Happy Birthday, and a joyous New Year.

Annalise & Adelaide Greengrass

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"It's a nice card," Tom says neutrally. "Who do you think picked out the holsters?" He reaches for the second item, which is a large, dark grey quill. There's a tag attached to it that reads 'self-inking'. Tom places the quill onto his bedside table so it doesn't get crushed accidentally.

"I dunno," Harry says. "It could have been either of them, really."

"I would have said it was Adelaide if I thought she cared enough to choose something she thought we'd like," Tom says thoughtfully. "Perhaps Annalise is smarter than I thought she was."

Harry exhales a large puff of air, frowning.

"Let's see what Septimus got us," Tom says, just to change the topic.

So Harry pulls out the large package that is addressed to both of them, unsticking the note card taped to the top.

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To Harry and Tom:

Merry Christmas! Hope you two are having a good time at Hogwarts.

See you both soon,
Septimus W.

P.S. Nathaniel says happy holidays.

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"Should we have sent Nathaniel a card?" Harry asks.

Tom is in the midst of unwrapping the package. "I don't think so," he says absently. "Septimus is our friend, not him."

Harry watches over Tom's shoulder as the wrappings fall away. There are a number of things inside of the box. The first thing Tom notices is a pair of Quidditch gloves, which he picks up and hands over to Harry. "See," Tom says. "Everyone has faith in you." There's a note taped to the gloves that say 'To Harry, for Quidditch'.

Pulling the gloves on, Harry examines his hands, a small smile on his face. "These are really nice," Harry says. "My name is even stitched on them, look!"

Tom looks over to see Harry's name—H. Evans—embroidered on the edge of each glove. "They are nice," Tom agrees. "Very thoughtful of him."

Next is a box of homemade cookies, which Tom also hands over to Harry. Then, lastly, there is a medium-sized black book with a leather cover. On the book is another note, but this one reads 'To Tom, for organizing your thoughts'. Tom opens the book to reveal a multitude of blank, lined pages.

"A journal," says Harry. "So you can document all your great successes."

Tom's not sure if Harry is poking fun at him or not. Turning the journal over, Tom sees that his full name has been embossed on the back.

"Septimus asked me what I thought," Harry says shyly. "I thought you'd like all of it on there."

"I do," Tom says. Out of all the Toms in the world, there is only one Tom Marvolo Riddle. Seeing his name in print reminds him of that fact, of the fact that he is utterly unique, despite his plain upbringing.

Harry and Tom make short work of the rest of their gifts. Chocolates from some of their classmates they are friendly with. A card from Professor Slughorn wishing them both a happy holiday. Even a six-month subscription to the Daily Prophet from MacMillan.

"Miss Hannah sent us a card," Harry says. He's holding a bright red card with a large drawing of a snowman on it. "And a box of sugar quills. We should have sent her something."

"There's always next year," Tom tells him.

"Next year," Harry says, "it will be nice to be able to get everyone presents. You said you had a plan, right?"

"Of course I do, Harry. And you're going to help me."

Harry smiles at that, grinning so widely that it threatens to split his face open. Then, suddenly and without warning, Harry catapults himself over to Tom, wrapping Tom up into a hug.

"Merry Christmas," Harry says to him, his head knocking slightly into Tom's as he holds them both together.

Tom hugs back, feeling strange. He's used to Harry being close, to the feel of Harry's arms or legs bumping and nudging against his own, but he thinks this is the first time they've ever hugged like this, like Harry's joy is overflowing and flooding into him, filling him with warmth.

"Harry," says Tom, once they've pulled away from each other. The words are slow like molasses, and Tom has to swallow thickly before he can continue, "Why don't you show me that spell you used to make my snake?"

Harry is still beaming at him. "Yeah, of course!" he says, and leads Tom over to his trunk, where he retrieves a handful of stones that Tom recognizes as ones he'd once set aglow. Sentimental as he is, Harry keeps everything, and it pleases Tom to know that everything he's touched clearly holds a heavy amount of significance to Harry.

"We can use these," Harry says. "And I'll show you the wand movements."

Tom settles patiently onto the bed, watching as Harry plays the role of teacher, and thinks that perhaps Christmas presents have their uses when they're from the right person.

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December 31st, 1938

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The castle is deathly quiet on the last day of the year. Tom and Harry sleep through breakfast in the Great Hall, tired after a long night spent practicing spells. They'd carried a handful of walnuts to the empty classroom on the fifth floor, and Tom had proceeded to split them all open using Diffindo. But today is Tom's birthday, which means that there is the expectation that today will be different.

He and Harry attend lunch together as usual, and Harry loads them both up on extra food, saying that he has a plan for the evening that requires they skip dinner. They've found that, given the holiday season, less professors and prefects in the castle also means less rounds of the castle. So if Tom and Harry can manage to ensconce themselves somewhere before curfew, they can stay there for most of the evening without getting caught.

After lunch they go to the library, where Tom does his usual cycle of replacing the books he'd finished reading. Tom asks the librarian where to find a book that teaches a spell to make things unbreakable, and she directs them to a few books in the Charms section on the right side of the library.

Tom pulls all the recommended books off of the shelf and starts flipping through. Harry sets his own little figurine down on the table—a lion in mid-roar, all its sharp teeth on display—and tugs one of the books over to look at.

Eventually they find something that looks like it will work. Tom copies down the information with his new self-inking quill, and then they head over to the courtyard so they can test it. Tom casts the spell on one of the lion rejects he'd made, then attempts to smash it upon the stone floor. The stone creature smacks into the ground, rolling with the motion for a while before it slows to a stop.

Harry walks over to examine the result. "It looks good," Harry says, picking up the lion and holding it at eye level. "I think it worked."

So Tom casts a Finite on it, and then has Harry try the spell next. Harry casts quickly and quietly, his brow furrowed as he focuses. Then Tom takes the lion in hand and tries to snap its tail off. It doesn't move, so he hands it over to Harry, who eyes it pensively for a moment.

"Toss it," Tom says.

Harry seems to hesitate, but then he chucks it at the ground. It bounces and lands in a patch of snow just off to the side.

Tom walks over to fetch it. The stone is still in one piece; it appears unscathed from its journey across the floor. "You did it," Tom says. "Well done." He walks back over to his bag and retrieves the snake that Harry had made for him. "Now this one," he says, holding it out. Tom wants Harry to be the one to cast the spell to protect it. "And I'll do yours," he adds, just in case that isn't obvious.

"What if we did it together?" Harry asks.

That makes Tom pause. "I think it still works either way," Tom says, after thinking about it. "It might be more resistant to a Finite if we cast it together, but it's not fully necessary." Truthfully, Tom just wants a piece of Harry all to himself, something Harry has made especially for him that isn't touched by anything else.

"Okay." Harry doesn't seem to think too hard about Tom's reasoning, and so they both switch creatures and cast the spell again.

Tom tucks his snake back into his bag once they're done. "Now what?" he asks Harry.

"We're going back inside. But we'll go back to our dorm first, to drop off all the books."

So they do exactly that, and Harry casts the Shrinking Charm on their blankets, rolling them up and stuffing them into his bag. Tom can see the sun is beginning to set just outside their windows. The days may be shorter, but he and Harry have been making the most of their evenings alone in the castle together.

Harry leads them back out to the Grand Staircase and towards the Astronomy Tower. Professor Mauboisan was one of the members of faculty who had gone home for the holidays, but the tower is still available for students to use. They climb up the long staircase, and, once they reach the top, Tom casts the only locking spell he knows on the door, just in case someone tries to barge in. He's not sure how well it will hold, but it ought to give them some warning at the least.

Harry unravels one of the blankets, unshrinks it, and lays it out upon the floor. Then he kicks off his shoes and crawls on top of it.

Tom can't help but ask. "Is this like a picnic?"

Pausing mid-motion, Harry looks back up at Tom. "I thought it would be a nice place to ring in the new year," says Harry. "You can see the stars the best from here."

So Tom removes his own shoes and settles down on the blanket, pulling his knees up to rest his arms on. "Excellent," Tom says, and he watches carefully as Harry's shoulders relax.

Harry smooths out the corners of the blanket before he joins Tom in the middle, bunching the second blanket up behind them. It reminds Tom of the times they had spent outside on the grass, lying side by side with the garden snake on their chests.

"I want us to be able to stay here all the time," Tom says. "All summer." Just him and Harry and the rapidly darkening night sky.

He had never noticed how nice it was up here in the Astronomy Tower—perhaps because they'd only ever come here at night, surrounded by classmates. It's more peaceful with only Harry next to him, with the last vestiges of sunlight passing softly through the large windows. Tom feels calmer up here, as if the rest of the world can afford to fade away for a while.

"I really hope so," Harry says quietly. "But it's alright if we can't, you know."

"I'll make it happen. I'll be the best student they've ever had, and they won't say no, not to me."

Tom wishes he could have seen the Slytherins' faces when they'd seen the name 'Tom Riddle' at the top of the class list. He would have liked to see their pretended indifference in the face of the fact that Tom is better than them all in every conceivable way. Perhaps he'll get to see a bit of it once the students return from break.

Harry lounges back on his elbows, looking out at the vibrant sunset. The two of them sit for a while. The only sounds in the large room are that of Tom and Harry's quiet breathing. Tom runs his hand across the soft blanket beneath them, thinking about all that has happened and all that will happen. The year is drawing to a close, and much has changed since his last birthday.

Slowly, in the absence of the sun, the air around them begins to cool. Tom reaches behind him for the extra blanket and drapes it around their shoulders. He's soaking in the quiet, taking in as much as he can of the feeling of being high above the ground.

Eventually, Tom can feel Harry start to get a bit restless. It's not unexpected, because he knows Harry likes to move around all the time. From his feet to his facial expressions, Harry is a constant reminder that the world around them is always alive and changing.

"Tom," says Harry. "Do you want to eat?"

Tom makes a vague noise of affirmation, and so Harry goes to dig in his bag for the sandwiches he'd wrapped up. They eat slowly, mindful of the crumbs. Once finished, Tom stretches out languidly on the blanket, flattening his legs out from their cramped position. Harry rolls onto his stomach so he can look at Tom's face, and Tom readjusts the blanket on top of them both.

"It's hard to think we'll be spending six more years here," Harry says. "It seems like such a long time."

"Plenty of time to learn everything," Tom says. "And to find out what we want to make of ourselves."

"Politics?" asks Harry, after a pause.

"Maybe," Tom allows. They had talked about the Ministry before, but the option is looking less and less appealing to Tom after an entire evening of being introduced to Professor Slughorn's boring Ministry friends. "Only if it would allow us to surpass the tedium of working at the Ministry. We'd have to find a way to make ourselves very well-known before attempting to run for any position."

"I bet you could do magical research," Harry says. "Invent new spells or potions."

Tom shifts his body so he's lying partly on his side, facing Harry. "I could do that."

Encouraged, Harry continues, "It would get your name in the papers, wouldn't it? Like with—well, like with Professor Dumbledore."

"What about you?" Tom asks, ignoring the comment about Dumbledore for now. "Did you want to play Quidditch? Professionally, like that woman?"

Harry shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know," he says. Then he adds, "I thought we would do things together."

"We will, but you can do other things, too," Tom says generously. "I won't stop you." As long as Harry knows where his true loyalties lie, Tom supposes that it's alright if Harry decides to pursue some hobbies on the side.

"I'm okay with what you want to do," Harry says. "I haven't even played Quidditch properly yet."

Tom eyes Harry speculatively. He can see a hint of the scar peeking out from underneath Harry's fringe. "That's true enough," Tom allows.

"Miss Joscelind said the most important part of Quidditch is teamwork," Harry reminds him. "But I think that goes for anything, don't you? It's better to do things together."

The allusion to the two of them makes Tom smile. "It does," he agrees, rolling onto his back once more so that he can gaze up and out at the window.

Harry shuffles a little closer, so that he appears on the edge of Tom's peripheral vision. His green eyes look large and unnaturally luminous in the dim lighting. Tom reaches up with his left hand to touch lightly at Harry's forehead, pushing past the unruly hair to reveal the lightning bolt buried underneath. Harry is holding very still, his gaze fixed on Tom.

"You've had this your whole life?" Tom asks, just to be sure.

"Yes," says Harry.

"I wonder," Tom says, "if that wizard who killed your parents gave it to you." He pulls his hand back, letting Harry's bangs fall back down over his brow.

"Because there's magic in it," Harry says, and it's not a question.

"Exactly. Only, I'm not sure how it relates to us, because I hadn't met any other wizards before I met you."

"Maybe it reacts to anyone who has magic that touches it?" Harry asks hopefully.

Tom shakes his head. "It must be to do with us, I'm sure of it. But I suppose we can test it out and see. I didn't want to do it before, because I wasn't sure if they'd be able to keep the secret, but perhaps we could ask Septimus or Annalise to try."

"Once break is over, then," Harry says.

But Tom doesn't want to think about their winter holidays being over just yet. He's not yet ready to surrender the freedom of being himself, of holding Harry's full attention whenever he wants it. Harry's not the same when the others are around; he's less selfish and less focused. Tom needs Harry firmly grounded and fully dedicated to the task of conquering Hogwarts, so that Tom can fulfill the promises he's made and achieve his goals of acknowledgement and power.

"I'm going to prioritize," Tom says. "Regardless of whether we stay here or go back to Wool's, reading up on the extra things can wait for now. I want to make sure we practice spells as much as possible, and I want you to improve your class ranking."

"I can do that," Harry says, nodding. "I'll work harder, Tom. I promise."

"You're already good at magic," Tom says seriously. "I think we only need to make sure you get enough practice. Once you've learned something, you know it." He's watched Harry long enough and tutored Harry through enough topics that he has a good idea of how Harry learns things and retains information. "It's just a matter of repetition," he adds.

"And what about your other plans?" asks Harry.

"As we get closer to the final exams," Tom continues, "I will make another study guide. This time, we will charge the other students who want to use it. They've all seen that I'm the best, so it shouldn't be too hard to convince them. We'll have Septimus and Annalise do a majority of the information gathering and organizing, just like before, and we'll keep the most detailed version with the most notes for our own use."

"That's good," Harry says. "And I can help with getting it all organized."

"No, you will help me write it," Tom tells him. "You know how I think and you always understand what I say. It'll be easier for you to write something in ways the other students can read and comprehend."

Harry seems surprised at suddenly being handed such an important task, which bothers Tom more than he wants to admit. "You can handle it," Tom says impatiently, when Harry still hasn't responded. "I know you can. I'll have to find a spell to prevent the document from being duplicated, and if I can't cast it myself, we'll have to get an older student to do it. Perhaps Nathaniel or Genie. And then I'll have to go around promoting it for a while, and that'll take time as well. So what'll be best is if I spend my time compiling more detailed notes on our subjects, and then give them to you to summarize. That way you'll be reviewing it at the same time."

"But you'll still look it over, won't you?" Harry asks, looking nervous. "I don't want to make any mistakes."

"I will look it over," Tom reassures him. "But I'm sure it will be fine, Harry. We can start early, and it won't take as much time as it did for our first one."

"Alright." Harry's mouth flattens, but he looks more determined now.

Reassured, Tom goes to sit up. "I'm going to check the time." Retrieving his wand from his new holster, Tom raises his wand and says, "Tempus." It's a quarter past eight, which means there are still hours to go until the new year.

"Not long left," Harry says. "Good bye to 1938."

Tom doesn't answer. He's thinking again. Of all the things he wants to be and how he will get there. The people who look down on him—Dumbledore, the Slytherins, the constant parade of potential adoptive parents at Wool's—they will see him for who he truly is.

When midnight finally comes, Harry lets out a quiet whoop. Someone has set off fireworks in the distance; multi-coloured lights dazzle across the starry night sky. Tom stands up, leaving the blanket with Harry, and goes to watch by one of the large windows. While the lights of the fireworks are near, the stars behind them seem very, very far away.

Tom hears Harry stand up to join him. "Happy New Year," says Harry, from just behind Tom's shoulder.

The beginning of their first full year as wizards at a school for learning magic. Tom gazes out at the grounds of Hogwarts, at the mountains and the hills and the forest, drinking it all in. All of this splendour and power at his fingertips, all of it his for the taking. And Harry by his side, trusting and loyal.

"Happy New Year," Tom repeats, and allows himself a small smile at the thought of it.

A/N:

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