.

the twins

.

January 1939

.

On Monday, January 2nd, Hogwarts finds itself lively and full once more. The Hogwarts Express has redelivered all of the students to their dorms, and they will resume their classes tomorrow. Noisy chatter fills the Gryffindor common room as the students trickle in, their faces bright and refreshed after a period of relaxation at home.

Annalise shows up in the common room with a little stone butterfly on a chain around her neck, and Harry offers to cast the charm to protect it.

"I can do it," Tom says, already sliding his wand down into his hand. "Hold still." He takes the butterfly and taps his wand lightly to it, casting the charm. There are patterns on the wings, Tom notes, though he's not sure exactly what type of species the butterfly is supposed to be.

"Thank you, Tom," Annalise says. "How was your birthday?"

"It was very good, thank you." Tom reholsters his wand, and then looks around to see if Septimus has arrived. "I've come up with a new plan to study for the end-of-term exams," he says. "And I want us all to work on it."

"Oh?" Annalise asks, nervous at the mention of exams. "But they're so far off still."

"All the more reason to begin early," Tom tells her. Her preoccupation with her marks still annoys him, and he hopes Adelaide will once again take her sister off his hands come exam time.

When Septimus shows up, Tom asks to cast the charm on his creature as well. Septimus pulls out a falcon perched on a rock. The bird's wings are spread, as though it is about to leap into the air.

"It's really neat," Septimus says, once the deed of the spell is done. "Did you carve these yourself? I asked Jon if it could have been made by magic, but he said he didn't know any spells that would make something this complicated."

"It's a Transfiguration spell," Harry says. "So it's a bit like carving, only you have to do it in your mind. You have to visualize all the parts exactly how you want them to look."

Tom has already noted that his snake has a lot more detail than the others, and so he decides to direct the conversation back to his plan for their next study guide. After he's done explaining everything, both Septimus and Annalise are agreeable to his idea.

"I'm sure I can convince Adelaide to spread the word in Ravenclaw," says Annalise. "Since they're the only house we never have any classes with."

And so the rest of the first week back goes by quickly. Tom notices that the students in other houses are taking more notice of him now. The Slytherins eye him curiously during Potions class; Tom holds back his smirk. Soon, he tells himself, everyone will see things the way they ought to.

Later on in the month, Tom goes to Genie and asks her if any students have ever stayed at Hogwarts during the summer. The look he gets in return is mildly pitying, which he immediately hates. He doesn't want to be seen as a charity case; he wants to have earned his place here.

"I haven't heard of it," she tells him. "But that might simply be due to the fact that such things are kept private. I would recommend you ask Professor Dumbledore to see if you can obtain permission to stay from Headmaster Dippet."

So Tom relays this information to Harry, who in turn looks skeptical.

"Going back to Wool's won't be so bad," Harry says.

"Professor Dumbledore seems to like you, so we'll have you ask him."

Tom doesn't want to speak to Dumbledore anymore than he has to, and it will be better if Harry is the one to maintain a friendly relationship with their Head of House, the same way Tom is doing with Professor Slughorn.

Harry shrugs, acquiescing.

The next day, Harry stays behind after Transfiguration class to ask, and Tom stays behind just outside the classroom to wait for Harry.

When Harry finally emerges, Tom can read the answer right off of his face. Tom's nails dig into his palms as Harry comes up to him, and Harry must be able to read his face just as easily, because Harry's expression immediately turns contrite.

They walk for a while, not speaking.

Tom levels out his breathing and unclenches his hands. His hands are smarting where his nails had dug into his palms.

"You tried," Tom says eventually.

Harry still looks unsure, so Tom attempts another statement. "It's not your fault, Harry. What excuse did he give you?"

"He said that Hogwarts isn't meant to have students stay over the summer. Most of the staff leave, and there isn't anyone to care for any students."

"But some of the staff do stay on?" he asks.

Harry shrugs. "The gameskeeper, Leroy. And one or two of the professors."

If there are still adults at the school during the summer, then it stands to reason that remaining at Hogwarts is a possibility, and Dumbledore is simply being obstinate. "Did he say he would ask Headmaster Dippet?"

"No," Harry says. "I didn't think to ask about that, sorry."

"It's fine, I doubt he would have done it. He'd likely say it was too trivial to bother the Headmaster with," Tom says, seething.

Wisely, Harry doesn't answer. He merely allows Tom to stew in a sour mood for the rest of the day.

If Dumbledore isn't willing to help them right now, then Tom needs to try another path. Either somehow convince Dumbledore to petition on their behalf, or find another professor willing to do it for them. Tom would like to try asking Professor Slughorn, but seeing as the genial professor is good friends with Dumbledore, it likely won't end the way Tom wants it to. He doesn't have enough sway over their Potions professor to manage that kind of power just yet.

Though he has the feeling it won't work, Tom embarks on the arduous process of trying to charm his way into Professor Dumbledore's good graces. Harry is likeable, sociable, and friendly, but he lacks the skill of manipulation that Tom has practiced to the point of art. So Tom does his best, but as Dumbledore continues to treat him with the same detached manner he always does, the resentment Tom holds for their Head of House only continues to fester.

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February 1939

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February brings the return of Quidditch matches. Ravenclaw plays Slytherin, and Ravenclaw once again secures a victory due to their excellent Seeker. However, this time Roper takes a Bludger to his leg and has to go to the Hospital Wing to get his bones mended.

"See?" Septimus says. "If Gryffindor had a Seeker like that, then we'd have the Quidditch cup for sure. You really must try out next year, Harry."

Tom eyes Roper's limp body on the floating stretcher; the Seeker's face is taut with pain and discomfort, though he attempts to smile at his teammates, who are walking with him.

"The Beaters need to do a better job protecting Roper." Annalise's gaze is also following the progress of the Ravenclaw players across the pitch. "He's their best player."

"Exactly," Septimus says. "Like Joscelind Wadcock said, it's about the whole team."

"Good thing the Gryffindor team is full of great Chasers, then," Adelaide says idly. "If only the rest of the players were up to snuff."

Tom glances at Adelaide, who looks stoic as usual. She catches his look and raises her brows at him. There is a stone owl pinned to her cloak, its eyes also wide and judgemental. Holding back a scowl, though not sure exactly why he feels the need to scowl in the first place, Tom drags his gaze back to the pitch.

A few days after the match, Professor Slughorn hosts another little gathering of his favourite first year students. The atmosphere is just as stilted as last time, if not more so, because of the strange dissonance between the Slytherins and the rest of the houses. Harry is now on good terms with the two girls from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, though Nott remains uninterested in social interaction to the point where Tom wonders why he bothers attending at all.

Oddly enough, it is Adelaide that lends Tom further insight to the situation with the Slytherins. They are all seated at a table in the library, working on their latest Herbology essays, when some of the first-year Slytherins walk by, their eyes lingering on Tom a moment too long to be considered normal.

"You've broken all the unspoken rules, Riddle," Adelaide says to him, once their group is alone again. "We don't have Muggleborn students hit the top ranks in their first term, let alone take first place. They don't know what to make of you."

"They'll see once we finish the year," Tom says. His hands flex around the edges of his textbook. "They'll see it's not an accident that I'm doing better than they are."

"Maybe so," Adelaide says. "But I'd be careful, Riddle. They're watching you, yes, but that's not necessarily a good thing. End-of-term exams include practicals—they'll be waiting for you to slip up."

Tom wonders if Adelaide is jealous that he'd outranked her as well, but she seems content to continue writing her essay. So he decides to give her words a bit of weight; he keeps a closer eye on his surroundings when the Slytherins draw near. He tries to decipher the calculating, measuring looks that he gets during Potions class, and eventually he decides that he doesn't trust them.

It's infuriating, how those boys are all a part of an inner circle, one composed of only a certain type of Pureblood scion.

Before they had only been background noise in Tom's mind: irritating, but tolerable. But now they stare at him with distaste in their gazes, and Tom wants to tear them apart—he wants to see them kneel.

It is nearly the end of February when Tom drags Harry, Septimus, and Annalise to the unused fifth-floor classroom.

"Harry and I used this room to practice spells during the winter holidays," Tom says. He paces a slow loop around the empty space, watching Septimus and Annalise to see their reactions.

Septimus looks around, setting his bag down on one of the desks. "That's neat," he says. "So will we use this for our exam revision?" Tom appreciates that Septimus is ready to work hard at a moment's notice. It's one of the things that makes him more tolerable compared to the rest of their classmates.

"Yes," says Tom. "But just us, you understand."

"And Adelaide," Annalise says, pulling out a chair with a loud squeak. She opens her bag up and proceeds to lay her textbooks neatly on the table; each item is positioned at square angles in regards to the edge of the desk.

Tom nods, conceding. "Only if she helps."

"She will help," says Annalise absently, laying her quill out perpendicular to her textbook, and it seems the matter is settled.

The rest of them pull out their school things and work quietly for a while. Harry pauses every so often to ask Tom for his opinion on phrasing, but otherwise everything is blessedly silent. When it draws closer to dinner, Tom begins to pack his quill and parchments up.

Septimus checks his watch. "We've got some time yet," he says.

"Oh, I know," says Tom. "There's something I want us to try."

Harry has put away all his things before Tom has even finished talking. He knows what Tom means to ask them. So they both wait for Annalise and Septimus to do the same, and then Tom explains to them about Harry's mysterious curse scar and his theory of it being a connection between them. He leaves out the letter and Dumbledore's involvement, but he does include the fact that they think a dark wizard might have caused it.

"Does it usually hurt?" asks Annalise.

Harry shakes his head.

Septimus and Annalise exchange a quick look. Then Septimus coughs. "I'll do it," he says.

One careful prod later, nothing remarkable happens. So Annalise tries as well, though she looks frightened to do so, and still there is no pain. Harry rubs at his scar thoughtfully afterwards, looking to Tom to see what he thinks.

"So it's only with me," Tom says, trying not to sound too satisfied. "I told you so," he adds to Harry, for the benefit of the two others who are with them.

"What do you think it means?" Annalise twists her hands together, frowning.

"We don't know," Harry says. "Tom's been looking at books, but there's nothing about curse scars like mine."

Septimus purses his lips. "So whatever this is, it's not like a regular curse scar. I might be able to ask my brother Atticus during Easter break. He works as a healer in St. Mungo's. He's seen a lot of things, so he might have a better idea of what books to look at."

"Make it discreet," Tom says. "We don't want this spread around."

"Yeah." Septimus nods, oddly resolved for an eleven year old. "I understand. I'll make sure to keep your names out of it."

.

March 1939

.

The warmer spring weather means students are once again spending more time outdoors. The professors have been loading them up with revision on top of their regular schoolwork, with the implication that some work is to be done over the Easter Break. But their study group is well ahead in regards to review, and so their hard-earned free time is spent lounging around by the Black Lake.

Harry has taken to carrying around Tom's notes with him everywhere, dutifully chipping away at his compilation whenever they have some quiet moments to themselves.

"If the curriculum stays the same," Septimus says, watching as Harry scratches out half a sentence, "you could even keep this for next year's students."

"That would be excellent," Annalise says, leaning forwards. "Like the older students who sell copies of the History of Magic exam answers."

Harry makes a non-committal noise, then crosses his current sentence out and starts a new one.

Tom had nearly forgotten about the copies of the exam. It hadn't been a priority before, as he and Harry likely wouldn't have bothered to buy a copy, but now that it's a plausible use of funds, Tom pauses to consider it in more detail.

"Is tutoring a common activity here at Hogwarts?" Tom asks. He hadn't noticed it at all, but it could still be happening.

"Sometimes," Septimus says, "the professors will pair the smarter students with the ones who need help. Or your parents can hire professional tutors during the summer."

"And those are expensive," Tom clarifies.

"Well, yes." Septimus nods. "But I can see where you're going with this, and I don't think it'd work the same way. A lot of students here already study together in groups; especially the Hufflepuffs. A study guide is one thing, but tutoring students individually isn't something that people look for. Students typically just go to the professors for help when they need it."

"What we have is fine, anyways," Annalise adds. "We could just invite a few more students to join us. I think Catherine would like to, and maybe Leo and Francisca. Maybe even some of the Hufflepuffs, if we can pry them away from their pack."

"Diane would come if we asked her," Harry says, looking up from his parchment. "She thinks it's neat we're all such good friends."

"After Easter break," Tom decides, after thinking about it. "Once we've got ourselves more organized."

Annalise and Adelaide have their birthday on Thursday, March 16th. A large package arrives in the morning post for them, and so their group gathers together outside after class to open it.

Sitting in their usual spot by the edge of the lake, the girls untie the rope and open up the box, which reveals a plethora of colourful wrapping paper with the Quality Quidditch Supplies logo patterned all over it.

"The Comet 180," Adelaide says proudly, pulling a broomstick out of the box. "It was just released this past winter."

Rummaging in the wrappings, Annalise pulls out a second, matching broomstick. "One for each of us," Annalise says, sounding surprised.

"Well," Adelaide says, "what did you expect? There's two of us."

"I don't even like flying," Annalise says quietly.

Adelaide hesitates, her gaze flickering over the rest of the group. "You can fly with me, so you don't have to worry about falling off," Adelaide says finally, reaching for her sister's hand. "The other broom is for Harry to use, isn't it?"

It does seem rather odd that Annalise would receive a gift clearly not meant for her, but perhaps it's simply easier for their parents to buy two of the same expensive thing for their daughters. Tom watches as Harry shifts guilty at the implications of Annalise missing out on a birthday present only because the girls had wanted to help him.

"Right." Annalise works her way up to a smile. "And Septimus, you like flying, don't you? So you can borrow it as well."

Septimus nods. "That would be really nice, thanks."

"Let's go write a thank you letter," Adelaide says, standing suddenly, pulling Annalise up with her. "We shall see you all at dinner."

The girls take their brooms with them, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.

"Strange, that," says Septimus. "Don't their parents know that Annalise doesn't like flying?" He exchanges a concerned look with Harry and Tom as he speaks.

Harry shrugs wordlessly. He's watching the sisters' steady progress back up to the castle.

"Not to mention," Septimus continues, "they get letters from home all the time, but they never talk about any of them."

"It may just be private," Tom says.

"Maybe," Septimus says, unconvinced.

When they see the girls at dinner, Annalise makes a noticeable effort to act cheerful, and so the incident is tucked away into the back of Tom's mind, noted but not forgotten.

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April 1939

.

Tom spends Easter break reading up on the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There is so much information available that it is hard to know where to start. So Tom makes a list of the most notable witches and wizards who had graduated from Ilvermorny, and then begins searching through their histories and lineages for connections to him and Harry. He's yet to see exactly what Ollivander wants them to find out, but he is learning interesting things, so at least his effort isn't wasted.

Readings aside, Tom notices that Harry watches him more carefully during the break. Harry is quick to drag Tom up to bed if the time grows too late, or if Tom so much as yawns in his immediate area. Amused by the fussing, Tom lets Harry do as he wishes. He's always able to read in bed with his curtains pulled after Harry has fallen asleep, so it's not difficult to let Harry think himself successful at his self-directed task of getting Tom to slow down.

Both Greengrass sisters have also chosen to remain behind for the two-week holiday period. So on one sunny afternoon, Tom and Annalise sit in the Quidditch stands while Adelaide and Harry fly around the pitch with a borrowed practice Quaffle.

Harry has been so busy obsessing over his revision notes that he's hardly had time to practice flying. So Tom had insisted they all come outside to enjoy the good weather and give the brooms a proper go.

"Will Adelaide try out for the Ravenclaw team?" Tom asks.

Annelise frowns, looking up from where she'd been doodling on a spare piece of parchment. "I don't think so. She doesn't care much for Quidditch. She just likes flying."

Tom makes a noise in response, and then they watch as Harry does a loop in the air, laughing all the while. Adelaide claps approvingly, then throws the quaffle to Harry, which he catches easily.

"Thank you for getting Harry a broomstick, by the way," Tom says. "He'd never ask for it, but I know he's very excited to play Quidditch next year."

"Harry's a good person," says Annalise. "And he'll be great on the team." Her gaze is a little unfocused as she resumes doodling. Despite her attempts at pretending otherwise, she's been quieter than usual since mid-March, and Tom knows that Harry has been worrying about her again.

"If there is anything I can do to return the favour…" Tom lets his sentence trail off purposefully.

Annalise turns back to him. Her eyes look dim despite the sunny weather, and her soft features seem more weary, like she's carrying a great weight on her shoulders. "Maybe someday," she says. Then she adds, with some attempt at vigour, "Thank you, Tom."

Though he knows he's only twelve now, and therefore not as powerful as he will someday be, Tom feels the odd need to clarify further exactly what he's offering.

"Someday, I'm going to be someone great and powerful," he tells her. "And as long as you stay with Harry and I, I will help you with whatever you need."

"I believe you," she says, so quietly that Tom has to lean in to hear it. "It's the idea of someday that makes everything worthwhile, isn't it?"

Tom nods at that, and while they go back to watching the Quidditch pitch in companionable silence, Tom's mind is whirling away with the possibilities.

Later that day, when Harry is helping Annalise fly a slow circle around the pitch, Tom approaches Adelaide in the stands.

"I want to trade favours," Tom says to her. "Something now for something later on."

Adelaide is still holding her Comet 180. She sets the broomstick down upon the seat and turns to look at him. "Yes?" she asks, her brown eyes flashing with fiery hints of amber. It is then that Tom sees before him, very clearly now, the sharp girl that had wanted to go to Slytherin.

"It's to do with Harry playing Quidditch."

Her brows pull together and her shoulders straighten. "If you're going to say it's too dangerous for him to play now, after all the trouble I've gone to—" Adelaide says hotly, crossing her arms.

"No," Tom snaps back, incensed. "I'm not. So if you would listen to what I have to say first, that would be greatly appreciated."

So Adelaide listens. Tom explains what he wants, which is simple, and then adds on what he has to offer, which is based on what little he's guessed. Together, they both come to a tentative agreement.