Harry knew he'd screwed up with Tom. He kept replaying the conversation in his mind for the next hour as Madam Pomfrey gave him a thorough examination. Snape had fled while he could, leaving Harry at Pomfrey's mercy. First she scrutinized his current physical health by casting at least a dozen spells on him, and by making him do simple activities. Touch his nose, raise his arms over his head, touch each fingertip with his thumb, stand on both legs, stand on one leg. It went on and on and on, but at least Madam Pomfrey seemed pleased by what she saw.
Harry was far less pleased because all he wanted to do was call Tom on his mirror and beg his forgiveness. He hadn't meant to say it like that, to suggest all Tom wanted to do in his dream was kill him while Tom had thrown himself in front of a killing curse for Harry.
It was just that Harry got so flustered around Tom sometimes that he couldn't figure out how to say what he wanted to say and he ended up saying the completely wrong thing.
Harry hadn't meant to piss Tom off.
And Tom was pissed off.
Harry knew because his scar was tingling. Just a bit, nothing like he migraines from hell he'd suffered in his previous life whenever Voldemort was feeling particularly murderous, but he still felt his scar burn ever so slightly.
Madam Pomfrey had him perform a few different tasks to determine his cognitive abilities. Harry had to read a paragraph of a pamphlet on dragon pox out loud, he had to write down a few sentences Madam Pomfrey read to him from the same pamphlet, and he had to draw a tree, a house and a clock. Finally he had to solve a few simple sums. Add, subtract, multiply, that sort of thing.
"Very good, Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey said to him as she was finally done. "You've made a complete recovery. I'm keeping you here for one more day, but if you maintain your current health you'll be allowed back in classes by Tuesday."
"Thanks," Harry said as he sagged back in his pillows, exhausted from an hour of doing to most basic things. He waited until Pomfrey left him and whispered Tom's name in parseltongue at the mirror he pulled out from under his pillow. The mirror lit up but Tom never answered. Harry's eyes grew heavy, his head falling against his pillow even when Harry tried his best to keep it raised, mirror slipping from his fingers and falling against the mattress. Harry fought his need for sleep as hard as he could, but sleep won in the end.
Harry woke up to the mirror heating up against his cheek while the hospital wing was dark around him. He flipped the mirror open at once. "Tom?"
"No," Barty said, glaring at Harry. "Good to see you alive, kid. Now what the hell did you say to him to make him this upset?"
Inexplicably, Harry's eyes welled up and a lump formed in his throat. Dammit. He would not cry, not in front of Barty. "I messed up," he whispered while desperately swallowing any sobs back that wanted to escape.
"You don't say," Barty said, his expression softening just a bit at seeing Harry that obviously upset.
Harry had the sense to pull out his wand and close his curtain with a flick and then cast every privacy spell he knew before replying. "We shared a dream early this morning, where Tom kept trying to catch up to a dream-me while Voldemort, the snakey version, kept trying to kill me. In the end Tom threw himself in front of a killing curse to keep Voldemort from killing me."
"Well, that explains our Lord's charming mood this morning," Barty muttered, shaking his head. "I'd expected him to be happy because you'd woken up but he was terribly moody over breakfast."
"Yeah, that dream was horrible," Harry agreed and swallowed the last of the lump away. Inhaling a deep breath, he was at least glad that odd sense of wanting to burst into tears was receding. "When we talked this afternoon, Tom insisted on hurting or killing the Weasley twins even when it was just an accident. He said something like that no one was allowed to kill me without consequence, and then I reminded him he'd tried to kill me in a dream just this morning. And then Pomfrey showed up and I had to end the call. I've been trying to call him but he won't answer." Dammit, that stupid desire to cry was back and Harry bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut to make it go away.
"Ah, hell," Barty sighed, giving Harry a look that was full of disappointment. "That was below the belt, Harry. No wonder he's been violently remodelling the cellar ever since your talk."
"I know," Harry said miserably. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Are you sure?" Barty asked, and Harry looked at him with wide eyes. "Because it sounds to me like you still blame our Lord for what he did to you in your previous life when he was insane."
"No!" Harry sat up a little, fingers clenching around his mirror. "Tom's not that person anymore, I know that. And I shouldn't have said what I said, I know, but he shouldn't want to kill the Weasley twins for accidentally hurting me."
Barty frowned and remained quiet for a few moments. "Snape gave us his memory of you getting injured, at our Lord's request. We watched it together. Those twins cracked your skull clean open. The whole stadium could see your brain, Harry, and it was only thanks to Snape's very quick spell-work that your brain didn't fall out of your head altogether."
"Fuck," Harry mumbled, touching his head with a trembling hand as if to make sure his skull wasn't cracked open anymore.
"Yeah, it was bad. Really bad." Barty tilted his head and his gaze became a little more challenging. "Now tell me honestly, Harry. What would you do if you had to watch Tom get his skull cracked open by a pair of idiots who were trying to hurt him? Perhaps not kill him, but definitely hurt him."
Harry blinked, unsure what to say to that.
"Just imagine it for a moment. Tom lying on the ground, blood all around him, skull gaping wide open while you get a perfect look at his brain." Barty's face had paled drastically but his eyes were hard.
Harry swallowed against bile rising up. He felt sick just imagining that. "I don't know."
"Didn't you cast a cruciatus curse on Bellatrix in retaliation once?" Barty reminded him. Harry assumed Tom must have told him about that because Harry sure hadn't.
"Yeah, after she killed Sirius," Harry said quietly.
Barty smiled, but it wasn't a friendly sight. It was full of vindication. "Exactly, kid. Bellatrix killed someone you cared about and you tortured her in response."
"The curse didn't work," Harry muttered, not at all happy with the direction this conversation was taking.
"Doesn't matter," Barty said with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "You still cast it. Now remember that those twins killed you, Harry. And you are the most important thing in the world to our Lord. Are you telling me he's really not allowed a little retribution, like you tried to get after Bellatrix killed your godfather?"
Harry was speechless. He wanted to deny that whole fiasco after Sirius' death, but he couldn't because he could well remember the rage burning hot throughout his entire body and the need, the physical, overwhelming need to make Bellatrix hurt for what she did.
Was Tom feeling that need now? Was he feeling as overwhelmed by it as Harry had done that time in the Ministry?
Harry imagined Tom getting hurt again and this time he could very well imagine lashing out at whoever might hurt him. Hell, just this morning he'd completely lost it in a dream when he'd seen Tom get hit by a killing curse.
What if someone like Snape would cast a killing curse at Tom? Just thinking that constricted Harry's throat while an inferno ignited in his chest. There wouldn't be anything left of Snape after Harry was done with him.
Oh.
Something of his epiphany must have shown on Harry's face, because Barty let out a chuckle while nodding at Harry.
"I see you finally understand," Barty said with a nice touch of smugness.
"Yeah, okay, I get it," Harry said, less than graceful about losing the argument, if there even was an argument in the first place. "But I still don't want him to kill them. They're reckless kids, not cold-blooded killers."
Barty shrugged. "So negotiate. Make a bargain. But let our Lord have some retribution. Nothing permanent, perhaps, but enough to satisfy his need to avenge you."
"Fine." Harry stared down at his lap. "I would do all that if he bloody well answered his mirror."
"I'll talk to him. Keep calling him." Barty offered Harry a huge smile. "I really am glad to see you're back in one piece. I'll call again soon." And with that, Barty clicked his mirror shut.
Sighing, Harry sank back on the bed and checked the time. Just after nine in the evening. Harry found a glass of pumpkin juice and a bowl of sliced fruit on his side-table and he devoured them both, suddenly famished. He followed it up with a few Chocolate Frogs someone had sent him after casting a few detection charms that came back clean. Then he washed it down with a glass of water and managed the short walk to the bathroom for a much needed emptying of his bladder.
Finally he was back under the sheets and he decided Barty had had enough time to convince Tom to answer his bloody mirror.
Harry activated his mirror and waited. And waited some more. After a minute or two the mirror deactivated automatically. Harry sighed and activated it again. And again.
It took at least ten tries, but finally Tom's face appeared in his mirror.
"I'm so sorry!" Harry all but yelled, and quickly cast a few extra privacy charms around him, just in case. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear. I know you dreamed about throwing yourself in front of a killing curse for me and that drove me so mad it actually woke me up from my coma. I can't imagine how angry I'd be if I saw you get hurt for real. So I know you're not going to try to kill me now, that you'd much sooner try to save me, and I'm sorry for being a complete idiot, I really am."
Tom's expression, which had started out carefully blank but with an underlying sheen of anger, morphed gradually into first amusement and then exasperation.
"Harry," Tom said when Harry got ready to add even more to his incoherent, rambling apology. "Harry, it's fine. Apology accepted."
"Really?" Harry released a woosh of air that came all the way from his toes as he fell back against his bed in utter relief. "I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry."
Tom chuckled. "I can tell. It was some miscommunication that got cut off before it could get resolved. We both reacted poorly."
"Yeah," Harry agreed readily. "I could tell you were really angry." To emphasize his point, Harry touched a few fingers to his scar.
Tom's eyes widened just a bit at that revelation. "You felt my anger? I am sorry for hurting you, my dear. Barty has made it his mission to get me to control my anger. He even gave me a book to help facilitate this." Tom's lips were pinched while he held up a book titled 'Anger Management for Dummies'.
Harry burst out in laughter, quickly pressing his face against his pillow to keep from waking up half the castle with his cackles. Then he remembered he'd cast privacy charms and no one would hear him so he turned back around and laughed in Tom's face.
"Yes, it's terribly amusing," Tom said in a tone that was dryer than most deserts.
"It is really funny," Harry insisted while he finally caught his breath.
"You wanted to bargain for your killers' fates," Tom said, calm as you please.
That snapped Harry out of his endless amusement and he pushed himself into an upright position. "Yeah, I guess." This time, Harry allowed himself a few moments to find the right words to say. Thankfully, Tom waited patiently until he was ready to talk. "Look, what the twins did was reckless and stupid, and I get that you want to make them pay, but in the end it was an accident. So my suggestion is you curse them through the mail, something painful but nothing permanent."
"Hm." Tom frowned while rubbing a few fingers over his chin. "I will accept your side of the bargain, if you accept mine."
"Which is?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"That you never give financial aid to any Weasley, or ever invest in any of their business ventures. There are other ways to make a living, Harry, without financially supporting your killers. Let them make their own way in life." Tom looked at him with resolution written all over his face.
"Huh." Harry thought about that for a moment. It was actually a pretty good deal, and if Harry was honest with himself, he didn't mind not supporting any Weasleys, given their betrayal of him, at least by a few of their members that Harry knew of for certain. In his previous life he'd given the gold to Fred and George to be rid of it, tainted as it was with Cedric's blood, more so than as an investment. The twins had accepted it as a gift, and aside from letting Harry have their merchandise for free had never paid him any earnings or shares. This life Harry had briefly considered making a genuine investment in the twins' future business with owning a share of it and thus earning a percentage of their profits, but Harry found that Tom was right. There were plenty of other ways to earn money and the twins could find another way to start their business. While Harry understood that what they'd done was an accident, he also felt they deserved some punishment for being so utterly reckless. If Harry hadn't had some form of immortality as the Master of Death, Fred and George most likely would have killed him. Not giving them, or anyone in their family, money for any reason was a light sentence, all things considered.
"That's acceptable," Harry said with a solemn nod. "You curse them but nothing permanent and I never give any Weasley money."
"It's a deal," Tom said with a smile that was all satisfaction. "I'll send them a little something in the mail tomorrow morning."
"Do I even want to know?" Harry asked, curious despite his initial hesitation to let Tom have his revenge.
"You'll see tomorrow," Tom said with a downright sinister smile. "Let's just say it's something one might find in the darkest corner of the Black family library."
"Well, the twins are fucked then." Harry shook his head, his mind coming up with all sorts of curses that wouldn't cause permanent damage but would still royally fuck someone up for a time.
"They cracked open your skull, my dear." Tom's nostrils flared while he pursed his lips. "I saw your brain and that is one part of you I never wanted to see."
"Yeah," Harry said with a sigh. "Barty told me you saw Snape's memory. Though Pomfrey gave me a thorough examination earlier and declared me completely recovered. I've got to spend one more day here, just in case, but after that I'm allowed to go back to my classes."
"That is good to hear." Tom sipped a tea-glass, filled with something that was too light to be Tom's preferred brew of Earl Grey.
"What are you drinking?" Harry asked, unable to deny his curiosity.
"Camomile," Tom said with an eye-roll. "Barty insists on giving me books to help me curb my anger. Winky on the other hand has decreed I can only have camomile after eight to try to help me control my temper."
"Is it working?" Harry asked with a huge grin. He loved sassy house-elves. Which reminded him. He needed to call Kreacher at the first opportunity to let him know he was all right. He didn't want the old elf to worry needlessly about him.
"It's not turned me into a Hufflepuff so far," Tom said with a sniff, and took another sip. "But I do like the flavour."
"What do you have against Hufflepuffs?" Harry demanded, though he was still grinning. "Some of my friends are Hufflepuffs. They're feisty."
Tom snorted in sheer disbelief.
"They are," Harry insisted. "I actually considered Hufflepuff as a House this time around."
"Please," Tom said with a deep chuckle, which made Harry's stomach flip for some reason. "You are even less of a Hufflepuff than you are a Ravenclaw. The Hat would never have gone for that."
"So according to you I only fit into two Houses? Gryffindor or Slytherin."
"Yes." Tom gestured with his glass of tea before taking another sip. "For me the Hat considered Ravenclaw for a few moments before deciding my ambition outweighed my thirst for knowledge."
"I can see that. You'd make an excellent Ravenclaw." Harry couldn't help but let his mind wander a bit and consider some possibilities. "If you had gotten a do-over, would you have gone for Ravenclaw?"
Tom released a deep breath, brows furrowed while he stared off to the side. "I would have started with not being such a little shit to Dumbledore when he came to deliver my letter, or reveal my parseltongue to him. Then I would have indeed asked the Hat for Ravenclaw and put all my effort into becoming a model student, perhaps making a few inventions, potions or wards, while still at Hogwarts. And I would have threatened my father and his family to provide for me, give me a share of their wealth and let me stay there so I wouldn't be stuck in London during the Blitz."
Harry swallowed, hearing the longing in Tom's voice to do better. Not to mention the regret for how his life had actually turned out. He could well understand that yearning to do better, to not make so many foolish mistakes. Harry himself had felt that as well when Death had offered him a second chance. "I asked him," Harry whispered, because he wanted Tom to know this.
"Asked who what?" Tom replied quietly while he raised his eyebrows, perhaps puzzled by Harry's suddenly slightly choked voice.
"I asked Death to send me back even earlier, to your childhood. So I could get you out of that fucking orphanage and raise you myself, make sure you had a home and someone kind to rely on."
Tom exhaled a shuddering breath while he slowly closed his eyes.
"But Death said that was unwise, to go back that far. It could break reality." Harry shrugged helplessly, still feeling a certain amount of regret for not being able to do better for Tom.
"Thank you," Tom whispered. When he opened his eyes to look at Harry, they were rather shiny. "For even considering it. I am almost seventy years old and it amazes me time and time again that even after all these years that fucked up childhood I had still influences me."
"Yeah, I know," Harry agreed, thinking about his cupboard at the Dursleys'. "In my previous life I was terrified anyone would find out how bad it was at my relatives' house. Yet I wanted to leave there more than almost anything. But when things got bad, during the war when we were on the run, I often thought back on my cupboard and how safe it made me feel. Small and cramped and dark though it might have been, it was my space and the only place I felt safe when I grew up. I dreamed about it while living in that fucking tent."
"The coal shed," Tom said with a small but knowing smile. "They'd lock us in the coal shed as punishment. At times I made sure to get caught so I could spend a day in the coal shed, just to get away from all the other children and have some peace and quiet. To this day, I occasionally dream about the bloody thing."
"Well, aren't we a pair," Harry said with a chuckle. "Barty got me some self-help books for people raised in abusive homes. They're pretty interesting and helpful."
"Send them to me when you're finished with them," Tom said without a hint of shame. It made Harry's chest swell with pride that Tom, and himself for that matter, were able to talk about their abusive pasts so openly. According to the books he'd read, being open about the abuse you'd suffered was the first step to healing.
"And I'm afraid I've created a monster when it comes to Barty and his current predilection for finding the answers to everything in Muggle books." Tom picked up his anger management book again and waved it at Harry.
"Ah yes, sending a Ravenclaw to a book store," Harry said while narrowing his eyes at Tom dramatically. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Tom shook his head though his smile was unmistakably fond. "You look tired, my dear. Get some sleep. We'll talk again tomorrow."
The moment Tom said that, Harry became aware he was tired to the bone. His eyes were heavy and his limbs loose. "Yeah, I need sleep. Good night, Tom. And I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven. Good night, Harry." Tom offered him one last smile before clicking the mirror shut. Harry managed to remember to cancel all the privacy charms around his bed, slid his wand and mirror under his pillow and was asleep in a minute. He didn't dream for the longest time, or if he did he wasn't aware of it, but at some point he did feel Tom's soul slide over his own, embracing him in their combined sleep. Harry was warm and whole and at peace and spent the rest of the night feeling like that.
Harsh voices, interspersed with tortured screams woke Harry the next morning. He sat up in bed at once, drawing his curtains back. Harry watched with his mouth hanging open slightly as McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore levitated two screaming redheads into the hospital wing.
"Oh my goodness," Pomfrey said as she rushed towards them, wand at the ready. "What happened?" She quickly cast silencing charms over each twin so she could actually hear the answer to her question.
"We believe they received cursed mail," McGonagall said, lowering one twin onto a bed opposite Harry's. Snape positioned the other one of the bed beside it. Dumbledore stood between the beds, waving his wand over one twin and then the other.
Pomfrey joined him and cast a number of spells rapidly. "They were cursed," she said while casting more spells. "A class 2 dark curse, though which one I couldn't say."
"A nightmare curse," Dumbledore said gravely, tucking his wand up the sleeve of his light-blue robes. "I'm afraid the Messrs Weasley are stuck in their worst nightmare for the foreseeable future. There is no known cure. Unless you have some idea, Severus?"
Snape shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Dreamless sleep won't help and the curses must run their course."
"How long will the curses last?" Pomfrey asked.
"That's hard to say," Snape replied while crossing his arms. "Depending on the strength of the caster, they could last up to two weeks easily."
"So supportive care and silencing charms until the curse dissolves," Pomfrey concluded and Snape nodded his agreement.
Dumbledore turned on his heels and looked right at Harry, who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes while he gaped at the scene in front of him. "Mr Potter, performing Dark Arts can be reason for expulsion from Hogwarts." Dumbledore walked slowly towards Harry's bed, looking down at him with sharp, judging eyes. "Who showed you such dark magic and where were you last night?"
Harry stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. "Huh?"