Forced Empathy
review responses: 'Since you spoke about how psychopaths treat those similar in power, I'm still somewhat surprised that Riddle didn't off Snape right after he killed Dumbledore-the one wizard Tom was afraid of and never killed himself. You would think a few of the DEs might wonder who was really the boss here.
But you're right about Harry. And in some ways, Gryffindors have been told for too long that everything they do is right, so naturally Harry is going to think so, too, even when whipping out an Unforgivable or two of his own.'
First, thank you for reviewing multiple times after some ass gave a flame about the central concept of the story without any actual critique or attempt at evidence to back it up. I'm guessing that was intentional to make me feel better? If so it worked.
My thoughts on this is that Riddle's behavior was often plot-motivated, like the way he always conveniently mainly attacks Harry at the end of the school year - thus the old joke that he clearly really cares about Harry's education even if he's a mass murderer. I don't think, however, that they'd get any confusion over who is in charge. Snape isn't sociable enough to be a leader of anyone, and Voldemort wouldn't be afraid of handing out crucios if anyone got confused. Also, Voldemort DID off Snape, he just waited until Harry was conveniently near enough to watch it!
To your previous review asking what's up with Harry being pro-Dumbledore, that's because this starts off with canon Harry who somehow thinks Dumbledore is deserving of having his kid named after him! Harry is going to sour on Dumbledore more, and he's already started to, but he's not going to start off that way. This work is basically a character study, albeit one where the main has a good reason to act a bit out of character right from the bat. Harry is pretty mentally fucked up in his own way in this.
now on to the story!
There were just a few more days until term started, and things were a lot more relaxed than he'd been expecting. Rough housing (yes, he managed to taunt Riddle into it one more time, and he didn't regret the fact he'd gotten hexed afterward at all, especially when Tom ended up wincing from the same hex due to their connection), deciding not to kill him but to try to at least change him a little first, both had relieved a kind of tension in him, but so too was simply being back at Hogwarts and not in a war-zone. He felt a little homesick for his own time, and extremely nostalgic for Ron and Hermione's company, but as he poured away in the library while Riddle did the same, or got into mock-duels with him to pass the time, it was almost like having them and he could pretend for a moment that it was his favorite bookworm Hermione diving into something esoteric or Ron looking for a slug-fest.
Almost. Riddle's humor or frequent lack thereof was very different. And Hermione would never have gone searching the forbidden section looking for horcruxes out of desire to use or make one if you could find anything on it - not that he would, Hogwarts only had the briefest mention of it. He still regretted that the boy had heard that word applied to Harry, but he could hardly control Grindelwald's actions or predict that the man would have said that. Now that he knew Harry had been involved with soul magic, he had more clues to go on, but even less incentive to try to get rid of him until he could figure out the interesting puzzle or wriggle the knowledge of how to make them from him, which he assumed Harry knew and had simply botched somehow.
Headmaster Dippet had Harry tested just to make sure he was really going into the proper year, and it was confirmed he was definitely going into seventh. A part of him felt worried about being in a different year from Riddle, as he couldn't keep as much of an eye on him, but it was nice to have an age advantage for once. He could use any advantage he could get.
He still couldn't believe the Sorting Hat had almost screamed Slytherin from a brush against the dark twisting of his soul, though. Well, alright, maybe he could when ambition to change things no matter what was all he had left at this point, but you'd think it would at least strongly consider Hufflepuff for his loyalty, or that it wouldn't have acted so shocked there was a Gryffindor part of him. It was mildly comforting to know the Sorting Hat was apparently less of a mind reader than usually thought and more of a soul reader, though, as mind reading children was creepy no matter how you excused it... That thought gave him a confused feeling about Dumbledore, but he excused it as a necessity of war.
Riddle gave Harry an odd look that later Harry guessed was from Harry knowing the way to the Slytherin dorms already. He inwardly cursed, but Marvolo already suspected him of being a seer, so this was hardly more damage on top of what was already done. The he embarrassingly remembered that Dippet had actually shown him to the dorms earlier and he already had a perfect excuse, he didn't need to act suspicious about it!
Harry was really jealous when he learned the later years got their own bedrooms in Slytherin, even if the rooms were really small, and some minor warding on each automatically. He supposed in the house of ambition it was for the best, though, considering how insidious and underhanded everyone could get you wanted some separation and protection just in case, especially if you expected your school to last hundreds of years it would be odd not to expect a darker personality at least once in those times. It made him kind of wish Gryffindor had the same foresight, but no, they just spelled the boys away from getting into the girl's dorms.
The separation made his emotions feel a bit more muted, but it wasn't as bad as previous times. He both appreciated and worried about this.
"This year, we will be having several refugees transferring to the school. Please be kind to them and help them navigate their new school, and make them feel at home in these troubled times," Headmaster Dippet intoned. The information surprised him - Harry wasn't the only 'refugee'? But it was a war, so he supposed he should not be surprised.
As he and Marvolo sat at the table for the beginning of term feast, the very first students to be seated or even arrive, he got to see exactly everyone's expressions as they all filed in. While most of the other houses didn't take too much interest in him at first, except for some of the seventh years who recognized him as some strange new competition, it didn't take long for the gossip to turn many eyeballs toward him and Tom whispering about Grindelwald. Slytherin, on the other hand, was riveted toward him immediately; they knew he was an outsider, and they wanted to know exactly what kind.
It also gave Harry the opportunity to study reactions others had to Tom - sorry, Marvolo. Merlin, habits died hard. If the amount of time it had taken him to say 'Merlin' instead of 'God' naturally as a swear was any indication, it was going to take him some months, if not years, to not occasionally slip. Although regular usage would probably help make it much shorter.
The upper-years greeted Marvolo as "Tom," with a grudging wariness before taking their seats past him. To other ears, that wouldn't have much significance, but to Harry who knew him so well, it did. They were wary of him and did not seem to want to overtly cross him, but that did not mean they truly respected the younger man with the mudblood name. At least, not yet. He could feel Marvolo's reaction of bristling determination, and could guess what he was thinking even without reading his mind, that this year would be the year he rose to complete dominance over the house. Harry idly wondered if he could, or should, put a stop to all that.
He could cut off all his avenues, leave him with only Harry for power - and that made Harry pause, because that dark thought wasn't like the old him at all, and frankly, creepy. He shook it off. Forcing someone into an abusive overly dependent relationship wasn't his style, and he doubted the budding dark lord to be would tolerate it. Although, he should probably be worried Marvolo was going to try to do this to him. Sorry for him then that Harry didn't have any connections to cut and was perfectly self sufficient on his own, then.
"I am Abraxas Malfoy, and you would be...?" Harry wondered if this new Malfoy, who looked so disturbingly similar to the old, really didn't know or was putting up a pretense because he wanted to hear Harry introduce himself. Probably to take as an opening to an attack. He didn't think it was a coincidence that Abraxas was the first person to introduce himself. He was being scouted out by someone others followed. The blond took a seat next to Marvolo like he belonged there, and Marvolo did not protest it but merely acknowledged with a short almost indifferent glance with the smallest of secretive smiles that hinted at regard for the other as a confidant but which was almost certainly faked - another power play or statement of old alliances, maybe? He was new to these things.
"Harry Evans," Harry said curtly. There was a feeling of they will not disrespect me that jolted him that he suspected was really Riddle's, but he found he couldn't really disagree with it, and it bade him continue before the classic 'that is not a pureblood name' could be offered, "You may have heard how we fought Grindelwald face to face and survived."
There were appraising faces all around, some of them shocked, some of them awed. "Yes, I'd heard a rumor, but to think it was really true... Riddle," he addressed Marvolo, and the way he did it rolled with significance. "You simply must tell me the tale yourself. How much of it was him and how much of it was you and your prodigious talent?"
"Oh, I definitely was the one to nudge him into it," Harry said cheerfully, a bit more than he actually felt, although he wouldn't deny amusement at getting Riddle to do something. "He was worried two wizards wouldn't be enough backup, no matter how talented he was he's still only a student, and I assured him I'd keep us alive." A slightly twisted version of the truth, but mainly from the assumptions the others would bring when they heard it. "I am very good in a fight and have quite a bit of practical experience. You don't want to cross me," he said, which was perhaps a bit blunter than usually delivered in the House of Serpents, but the message was clear enough indeed.
Several faces turned away politely, as if very interested suddenly in their meals.
Malfoy was perhaps braver and more Gryffindor than his family was generally given credit for, for he did not turn away. "I see. With the proper connections, you could get quite far," and Harry blinked in shock because he recognized this, recognized the hand starting to be outstretched, but it also didn't quite make sense, because he was sitting next to Tom Riddle and had fought beside him, clearly they were already allies...?
Then he felt a seething rage beside him and he glanced at Marv giving Abraxus a warning look. "I believe he's quite aware of that, Abraxas, that's why he decided to fight alongside me." There was a considering look exchanged between them, and Abraxas backed down, hand back down.
"Well, I thought I'd properly introduce myself and know there are others in polite society interested in him, is all," Abraxas said very smoothly, a charming smile on his face that was matched by a fake one on Riddle's.
Harry felt very lost at what was going on, and he hated it. But he knew there was one thing he could do to wrest control of the situation. He could ruin it.
"That really depends on what you mean by polite," Harry said, his smile a viper's. "I'm sure you haven't failed to notice my name is less than pure. There are many circles where I would not be welcome." As polite a 'fuck you' as he could muster.
That definitely left Abraxas's expression more cold than it had been a moment before, and it took him a moment to muster back up his charm. "There are exceptions for those who clearly have talent and respect our ways," and with that there was a glance at Tom. "Don't burn your bridges before you even know what's on them." A clear warning.
Riddle cut in before Harry could make everything much worse. "Harry has some very strong ideas inspired by his dislike of Grindelwald. That madman wants to dissolve the lines between our worlds and completely upend the statue of secrecy, and as is proper, Harry naturally disagrees. He knows the muggles could severely devastate the less skillful of us with their artillery, and they invent new weaponry all the time even if it does not quite match magic; an unnecessary fight is a foolish one."
Harry had to reluctantly nod to that, even if he was a little pissed at Riddle for offering a 'rescue' that was unwanted.
"One can certainly admire such conviction. The stories of how you fought off an army on your own are quite enchanting, if I suspect a touch exaggerated," said a voice that belonged to a face that was both familiar and not, and Harry had to resist a gasp. "Orion, at your service. The slightly younger fellow who resembles me is my cousin Alphard, the lady is Lucretia, and the youngest all the way over there near the firsties is Cygnus, Alphard's little brother. My darling older cousin Walburga graduated recently, but if you'd been here from your first year you certainly would have seen her," and the man gave him a beaming grin.
Sirius.
Only, of course, it couldn't be, and in any case many of the details were wrong. It was his father, who he vaguely recalled wasn't a Death Eater but a sympathizer; he could guess why, as Orion was in Harry's year, older and thus not as likely to get directly caught up in Riddle's little direct circle. He had to stop himself from staring at Black, lest everyone start suspecting him of a crush or something. Marvolo definitely noticed something from his emotions though, from the way he briefly glanced at him with curiosity at his recognition. It was easy enough to redirect his attention to look at the other Blacks, though; now that he was looking for them and had had them pointed out to him directly, he was surprised to see there were quite a number of them at Hogwarts this year. If they'd been the Weasleys, people would have probably made nasty comments about it, but he supposed they didn't dare do the same to the Blacks.
"Well, an entire army it probably wasn't," Harry said, without thinking. "But there were definitely over a dozen opponents. I was more distracted with freeing people than doing an exact count though."
Now that definitely earned them stares again, and Harry felt frigid.
Just what he wanted. To be a damn celebrity again. He could feel Marv's smugness. Certainly, he had reason to be happy about it: the information only made Riddle look dashing and good, a powerful hero. And Harry couldn't begrudge that either: he'd certainly rather Riddle cement power from something like that rather than murdering innocent muggleborns.
"Avery, did you do what I requested?" Riddle said quietly, receiving a nod, and Harry watched as something long and ribbon-like slipped from the other boy's arms. The serpent curled around Riddle's neck, and the boy's eyes closed in contentment for a moment. Then he set about introducing Harry to several other students. "Evans, this is Avery, that's Lestrange, over there is Mulciber, and those two are Rosier and Nott. They are my close friends."
It made Harry realize that even as their bond had deepened, he almost never felt true happiness from the boy, except in the form of brief smugness or sadistic delight. Certainly not anything that resembled affection. This was slight, just a flicker of contentment, it was something that a normal person would hardly rate as worthy of a patronus, but it was there as he petted a serpent and not as he introduced his comrades.
Tom Riddle was an emotionally muted boy, with zero affection for humans. But he had the slightest indulgence of it for snakes.
Harry wondered if he could use that somehow. In the meantime, he listened to Riddle regale stories of their epic battle to a captivated audience, as if he were a charming host and this was his personal banquet.
Harry hadn't realized until it happened just how happy he was to be having an actual seventh year at Hogwarts.
There were, however, several annoyances. One was the Slytherins, as expected, and politicking with them which wasn't to his taste. He also felt uncomfortable not being able to watch Tom like a hawk by sharing the same classes, but it was nice to have the prestige of being in an older year than him and thus more able to get away with not licking at his boots without attracting quite the same level attention as he would if he were in the same. The other was, less expectedly and more dismaying, Dumbledore. He'd expected the man to be wary of him. He didn't expect the man to be a dick to him.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," Dumbledore said to a student who had performed a transfiguration at the exact same level of competency as Harry had. Did Harry get points? No siree. And Harry had gotten damn good at transfigurations in his time, as it was actually pretty darn useful in battle to have at least some skill at it to supplement your more complex charms.
Come to think of it, Dumbledore had always been partisan, it just had sort of soared over Harry's head, like in first year he basically stole the cup from Slytherin - which felt nice at the time when he assumed all Slytherins were gits, but now he knew better. Now he found himself wondering how the hell he'd been so oblivious to how unfair it was. Or how he'd ever cared about silly things like who won the cup, for that matter. It wasn't that Harry really wanted the points, he just wanted to be treated fairly, dammit.
Riddle lurked outside of class (despite it not being his class) when it was over and gave him a knowing, smug look. "I could feel your irritation. He gave you the standard Slytherin treatment, didn't he? Or worse?"
Harry paused. "He didn't take points away."
"Because you did not give him any excuse to," Marvolo mused. "Do you want my advice?"
Harry shrugged.
"Answer his questions, and ask intelligent ones that force a debate. He'll award points to avoid looking partisan in front of the whole class."
"Thanks, I suppose," Harry said grudgingly, not totally devoid of manners. Then, he unleashed something that had been niggling at him. "What was up with you and Malfoy at the feast?"
Riddle's eyebrows rose. "I thought you were a Slytherin."
"Only became one this year, Riddle," Harry pointed out. "Hardly enough time to get used to all your political infighting. Was that what it was?" he questioned.
"More or less. Abraxas was testing his boundaries and sniffing out how the balance of power might shift with the newcomer." Now there was a wry smile on Riddle's face. "You might have caused me a little bit of trouble, had you decided to opportunistically side with him. Thankfully, you were your usual self." Harry was sure there was an insult in that somewhere, but it wasn't direct enough for him to take proper offense.
"What's all that supposed to mean?"
"It means, dear Evans, that you displayed a remarkable disinterest in making alliances or power plays of any sort, but did make it clear you weren't to be messed with. Everyone will probably leave you alone, for all the good and bad that entails." Right. He could read between the lines. He'd made himself a pariah, say good-luck to having any friends. It hurt, but he was used to it.
"Well, good, I guess," he feigned disinterest.
He wasn't used to the expression of distaste that briefly flickered across Riddle's face. "Would you stop that self-sacrificial nonsense? The feeling is quite irritating. The problem is easy enough to fix," Riddle huffed. "They will not disrespect me. If you are in my circle, they will be forced to pay basic courtesies to you as well, and you can probably salvage what you tattered to pieces so naively." Hey, it wasn't naive, it was deliberate, thank you. "You could be chattering about inane niceties like the latest quidditch matches in no time at all."
"I thought he'd be right terrified of you or something," Harry admitted. "Why didn't you just hex him?"
"Harry, what do you take me for, an uncultured clod?" Marvolo scoffed. "You do not make political alliances by hexing everyone, as tempting as that may be, but by cultivating people. That's why Abraxas took care to butter up to me even as he tried to filch you from right under my face. The hexes are reserved for more severe offenses... such as insulting my blood status to my face." Interesting, if that was something that changed over time; he couldn't imagine older Voldemort tolerating anything whatsoever. But then, Riddle in this time was notorious for being charming, and he supposed acting like Snape or a full fledged Dark Lord was the exact opposite of that. Reel the suckers in and give them no escape before you torture them, perhaps the logic went.
It was probably too much to hope that Riddle had taken Harry's lesson to heart that one could not win respect purely through intimidation. And if he had, he'd clearly twisted it in his own way to make it about pure manipulation.
"Is that why no one brought up my being at least a half blood negatively?" Harry asked curiously.
"In part. They aren't fools; they respect power and those who seek it. At least to a degree, anyway. They will likely be less polite behind your back," Riddle said in a way that spoke of bitter experience. "Especially if you go about flaunting your status. Your decision to speak about it was very foolish."
"As opposed to just leaving it as a polite fiction that my status was simply completely unknown or unknowable?" Harry suggested dryly.
"Indeed," Riddle stated.
"You planning to pretend so yourself, or do you not really care about my status?" he queried. "After all, I am a filthy little mudblood," he said with amusement, just to watch Riddle's expression go carefully blank.
"Never," he intoned severely, "speak of yourself that way where others might hear." His dark eyes looked very serious, but underneath the only thing he felt from him was a flicker of agitation and disdain, though he could not tell if it was directed at him or something else. "There is only power, nothing else matters in the end. Anyone who disagrees is a weak fool."
Harry tilted his head, confused despite the familiarity of the phrasing, an echo of 'there is only power and those too weak to seek it', but shrugged. He was probably just being controlling again. Harry would certainly know if he felt overwhelming concern. Although the emotional mutedness he had much of the time made him really hard to read. Harry had just assumed at first that was Harry feeling like crap, or from the bond being not that strong, but it was becoming clear this was what Riddle was really like, that if he didn't feel something, sometimes it was because there really wasn't anything there.
And god, that was foreign, wasn't it? How did you reason with an abyss?
"If you insist, Marv," Harry said, and got to watch Marvolo sputter, although he could sense that the other boy was not quite as displeased as he was pretending.
"I had hoped you'd forgotten that terrible nickname."
"Never," Harry said mischievously. "You like having a different name to call your own, don't pretend otherwise. It just isn't up to your usual flamboyant standards."
That almost got an involuntary smile to quirk itself upon his face, but like his other non-negative emotions, it was just too muted to truly break free like that. Somehow, he'd have to fix that. He just didn't know how. But he had a guess of where to start. If nothing else, he knew letting him make horcruxes would make it much worse.
"Does this mean that you really are just using them?" He didn't know why the idea shocked him so much, after all, the man was a certified psychopath. "If you don't believe a word of it." Although, that didn't make much sense with all the vehemence Riddle felt at the notion of not having a special heritage, and he definitely disliked muggles... in fact, he distinctly remembered a very truthful conversation where Riddle had hypocritically declared half-bloods should know their place.
That made Harry excited. However small a change, even if it was just to help him get over internalized self-loathing, it seemed like he really had had an effect on Riddle!
"I never said I didn't believe a word of it," Marvolo evaded smoothly, but not really answering in the affirmative either, a flicker of mischievousness in his eyes now. Harry didn't know if Marvolo had always teased, it was hard to imagine Voldemort doing that, but if he hadn't then he had picked it up easily enough from Harry from the occasions he was a smart-mouth. It sort of suited him, really, like that deepening voice of his was born to be pithy. "Blood really does transfer powerful abilities. Parseltongue, for instance." Of course he'd use that as his example. Then, as if to brag, he brought up into his hands the snake he'd had stealthily coiled and put them down on to the floor.
"It'sss cold," the snake complained about being set on the stone, and Harry resisted a laugh.
"Darling, would you go and search for the chamber for me now? I'm sure there are warmer places in the castle you could look."
If Riddle was expecting him to be impressed, after Harry had already watched him summon snakes in their battles and not blinked an eye at it, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Perhaps this was just something he'd been planning and this conversational note was as good a time as any to do it. Harry just waved them both a polite goodbye and set off to his next lesson, confident at least that the snake was not going to find the chamber for as long as it was searching for warm places as the chamber or the cold shiny floor of a bathroom definitely wasn't that.
He'd have to remember to go down into the Chamber sometime soon, though not without preparation. He'd prefer not to kill the basilisk if he didn't have to, it wasn't its fault it was a giant murder monster, but he suspected ordering it not to kill anyone wouldn't go down well...
Slughorn's classroom as a seventh year in the past was... an experience. It didn't help that being far from Tom Riddle left Harry's soul fragment feeling colder, when the dungeons were already more chill than the rest of the castle. It also didn't help that Slughorn wasn't the only one eyeballing him, waiting for him to prove his worth or lack thereof. He was a new element and the other seventh year Slytherins did not always like new elements, he guessed.
What he remembered from his old potions' books and Hermione's teaching helped, but potions had never been his strongest suit. He could see Slughorn debating with himself as Harry gave an adequate but not exactly stunning beginning to an Everlasting Elixir, which he'd never had much reason to brew when there had been a number of important likely-used-immediately potions if he'd had the time at all for brewing in the war, like Polyjuice or Liquid Luck or simple healing potions. One should never underestimate the usefulness of healing potions, even the less complicated ones that wouldn't attract much notice from master brewers.
"Harry," Slughorn seemed to end his internal debate, Harry's rumored dueling abilities being too fascinating to avoid cultivating, perhaps. "I have a little club I'd like to invite you to, we're having a meeting this weekend. Your friend Tom Riddle will be there, and so will many other students of talent."
"Alright." Harry hated that a part of his gut leaped at that last sentence, yearning for the feeling of normality of a full soul. Another part of him justified it as an excuse to watch him and keep him out of trouble. It was several days from then, and he was starting to feel uncomfortably like some sort of addict going through withdrawal, which was stupid. He didn't decide to go to Hogwarts so he could bud up against Tom Riddle's side 24/7, he wasn't that desperate.
After classes, he forced himself to go to the library instead of any sort of socializing, and work on reading up on transfiguring roosters and on psychological and philosophical theory. He was pleasantly surprised that his new lack of boredom made studying much easier now, but did not magically make the studying more productive.
Psychology was in a very Pavlov focused state right now, and he amused himself to think of trying to treat Riddle like a dog. Although, he was planning on a few of the basics - try to reward him somehow when he was behaving, stop him from self-rewarding when he was misbehaving... Harry was just unclear what he could bribe Riddle with besides 'immortality'. Then again, that was a pretty big one. Maybe it would be enough? He felt skeptical it would be though. There were definitely no useful tips anywhere about how to make someone suffering from a permanent mood disorder - he didn't know quite what else to call it, that emotional apathy toward other people or events that would get others much more emotive - feel like a normal person, although there was Freudian stuff about confronting one's feelings about their parents he felt dubious about. And trying to read philosophical texts on the nature of evil and explaining why someone should be Good was not super helpful either. He had the distinct feeling introducing Tom Riddle to utilitarianism would get him readily justifying what he wanted to do anyway, and virtue ethics would get him laughed at.
The only mildly useful thing was the idea of desensitization therapy by exposure to the thing you fear in a safe setting. But how did one safely expose themselves to death and dying?
Sighing, he abandoned his read as the librarian fended him off, citing the time. He did not feel sleepy, but knew he should try to take care of his body nonetheless.
He struggled to sleep, but when he did, Harry shot up straight awake from a sudden feeling of terror in the night. It wasn't his own, he knew that.
Riddle was having a nightmare. A very violent and terrible one, if it was reaching Harry from all the way over in his own room. Feeling almost compulsed and following the urge to do something on a whim, and also perhaps a bit more favorable toward the boy after he'd thought he'd changed him in some small way, Harry headed toward him silently unseen and methodically undid the wards on his door one by one, including all the extra ones Riddle had laid. Riddle bolted upright as he entered, wand in hand, and Harry knew his sudden appearance, his violation of his privacy, had not helped at all and had indeed just made the terror worse. Perhaps Harry was unwittingly enacting out his very nightmare, if he were the thing Marvolo had dreamed of. Which considering his fear of death and how he'd outright murdered him, probably was the truth.
Harry disarmed him before he could be hexed with a silent flick of his wand and ignored his enraged, shaken hiss to "Leave!"
Instead, he wrapped his arms around him and let the other's emotions wash over him. Terror was not an unfamiliar feeling to Harry, and he had experience managing it. Certainly, he was better at it than Riddle, as he hadn't gone nuts and tried to make a bunch of horcruxes over it. Harry focused on returning to and radiating calm. Maybe if he could not teach with words, he could teach directly through their connection.
"Shhh," Harry said. "I'm not hurting you. You're safe."
Riddle tried to thrash for a bit, but Harry was well experienced with brawling, had a fair bit of muscle on him with his older age and conditioning, and easily kept the more inexperienced wizard pinned; you never knew when you would lose your wand, but he couldn't see Riddle willingly engaging in wandless brawling much even for training so he had the clear advantage here.
Slowly, Riddle's breathing evened out. He could feel his groggy confusion and an enraged humiliation at being defeated with a hug, of all things. Harry tried to mediate this out with calm, too. He'd done less well in his life with rage than he did with fear, but he'd grown since his fifth year and come to a greater acceptance of things that had given him rage and pain. One grew up fast in a war, there was no time for childishness. And there were a number of things that hurt but he accepted as brutal necessities. Harry was a weapon and he accepted that.
From the rage giving way to curiosity, Harry wondered if he'd accidentally let that thought slip, or if his attempts at sending calm were finally working, or both.
He tried to focus on happy frivolous memories, treating it like a patronus, even if his own was now fucked up that didn't mean he wasn't still exceptionally good at the theory, to turn this calm into contentment. His mind turned to how incredibly embarrassed Ron had been the first time they'd ever huddled for warmth, and how it had ameliorated his pride a fair bit when Hermione had joined them. He thought of all the times he'd wished for a little brother he could dote affectionately on and the things he'd do and play with him, a series of pleasant daydreams. When he'd mentioned it to Ron and how Ron was like the brother he'd never had, Ron had protested that he was fine being a brother, but he definitely wasn't going to be the younger yet again! They'd pretended to be twins for a week, Harry spelling his hair red (that had made Snape go weirdly silent when he saw him, for some reason), and got into a mild pranking war with Fred and George. It had been so much fun, but definitely embarrassing as they ended up on the losing end, not that they'd expected anything else going against their elders and notorious master pranksters.
If he closed his eyes now and ignored all the inconvenient details, he could pretend Riddle was like the little brother he never had and that he was doting on affectionately right now.
Riddle was... perplexed did not even begin to describe it.
He'd just had another terrible nightmare (he really needed to brew himself some dreamless sleep again, damn the fact using it too much made the stuff addictive) of Evans eviscerating him and laughing at him for his failures, for ever thinking he could earn the older man's trust and respect. Malfoy had stood on the sidelines, idly commenting that this meant he was muggle deep down after all, before clapping hands with Evans and the two of them threw his soon-to-be-corpse to a crowd of ravening muggles. Bombs dropped from the sky.
It had been horrifying to see Evans suddenly burst into his room just like in the nightmare, and humiliating how in his grogginess and lingering terror he'd not had his full wits to fight him off. An even more humiliated part of him suspected it might not have mattered, worried that the older Evans was genuinely better than him. Voldemort could best most seventh years, but he wasn't at his full strength yet and Evans was not most seventh years. He had braced himself for whatever torment Evans felt like inflicting on him this time. Another death?
But no.
It had been a hug.
Was Evans deranged?
"You cannot possibly think that I wanted your comforting," he regained his voice at last, which he attempted to make sound dignified.
"No," Evans said, Avada Kedavra-colored eyes half-lidded and staring off as if to somewhere else, a feeling of nostalgia coming off him. "But you needed it."
Marvolo bristled, scowling. Yet there was something sort of intoxicating about the calm coming off him, and instead of trying to fight him again, punch him in the face like he deserved for this impropriety, he found his muscles start to relax instead, dammit. He had to admit he didn't mind the fear being gone.
It was the happiness, he marveled, enraged thoughts turning to curiosity. Marvolo had felt a variety of emotions from time to time, usually brief, but he'd rarely felt anything for a long time (except, perhaps, anxiety or contempt) and he rarely felt actually happy. And he definitely did not do affectionate. That even some of that was directed at him was foreign and barely conceivable. Evans did not even like him!
He'd spent much of his life chasing whatever would either soothe his anxiety (not that he cared to call it that - prudent wariness of death, more like it) or sate his appetite for anything that would make him feel alive and important. So one could imagine him feeling very perplexed at this happiness indeed and this overcoming his usual rage at being treated as lesser. Indeed, he was even starting to feel conflicted, because Riddle hadn't felt this nice in a long time. No, make that never, except for his brief episodes of sadistic glee or the first time he'd arrived at Hogwarts.
...what was that thought from Harry about being a weapon? Strange. It actually could explain quite a lot about him. But he did not pursue it with the ravenousness he usually would, distracted with this new feeling.
After awhile, he not only tolerated it, but actively pressed back with his own hug. He could feel Harry stiffen in shocked surprise, and couldn't help a small smirk that he'd managed something the other had apparently never expected. It backfired when the confusion the other felt started to turn to active distress instead and, more importantly for him, remove that nice feeling of contentment with guilty racing thoughts of 'what am I doing, really? with him of all people? maybe I should leave' that radiated loud and clear.
He wanted to smack the other boy silly, to pin him and mockingly utter 'Shh, you're safe' right back at him (perhaps another time), but instead he put on his best charming smile, suppressed his irritation as best as he could, and said, "I'm sorry. I appear to have distressed you."
That made Harry's thoughts turned embarrassed and, predictably, more contrite. "Sorry. It was my fault, I have issues."
Riddle fought with all his willpower not to make a sarcastic quip, and lost. "Clearly, or you would not have barged in and hugged someone who clearly wanted to hex your face off."
"I can leave," Harry grumbled, starting to stand up. Of course Evans the infuriating twit would try to leave the moment Riddle decided he might actually like him to stay, damn him.
"No," Riddle said, rising up. "Please," he said, making his voice sound sincere very convincingly. "I don't actually enjoy being afraid, and..." he thought for a moment, trying to think of a convincing argument that wouldn't embarrass him further. "You owe me for taking my dreamless sleep," he decided. "If you can stop the nightmares yourself, it's worth a try."
Evans huffed. "Fine." He agreed much more readily than he expected, but Riddle could feel his irritation, which was less than optimal.
Still, irritation beat fear any day, if he thought that emotion was going to scare Marvolo off, he didn't know him very well at all. He did wonder for a moment at the bizarre logic of inviting his own monster to crawl into bed with him to stop the nightmares, but the moment his gut started to twist Harry's expression softened and after a few moments the feeling eased. While he didn't think Harry's intentions were purely altruistic, he did sense that Harry was pleased with him for some reason, so he wasn't intending to murder him again... for right now, at least.
That thought did not exactly help him sleep. But when he finally did, it was more sedate than it had been in a long time.
He was full of mixed feelings when he woke up in the morning, guilt and hope primary among them and warring against each other, and he quietly crawled out of bed and made himself invisible. Riddle could clearly change in some small ways, but the changes he'd seen were minor at best. He should have been killing him, not snuggling up to him trying to make him feel better...
But at the same time, if he had no choice but to try and teach him empathy, what better way than to show empathy?
Slughorn's party had Harry immediately regretting going. First, he nearly had a heart-attack when he overheard the name 'Fleamont Potter', who was apparently a great potioneer, chatting about his little brother Charlus.
Second, Riddle was being even weirder than usual, often staring at Harry with a rapt fascination that Harry thought was frankly unwarranted and trying to solicit emotional reactions out of him, like offering him a drink or nudging him to talk to various strangers. He had to admit he did grudgingly smile when Alphard Black came up to him and said, "So I notice you don't exactly care for Pure Blood politics."
"That's true," Harry said, seeing no reason to lie. "What of it?"
"I don't either."
That definitely made Harry happy. He'd just found his first actual friend in this time, and - this was stupid but it mattered to him nonetheless - he looked like Sirius.
He wasn't expecting a flicker of jealousy to emanate from Riddle, or for it to then proceed to result in no outward reaction at all from Riddle. However, when Malfoy started to head his way, that proved too much for the younger boy and he headed his fellow fifth-year off. Harry pretended not to eavesdrop while casting a hearing enhancement charm, kudos the twins.
"Abraxas. Curious about the newcomer, I suppose? He won't show much interest in your particular style of charm."
Abraxas shrugged. "Who isn't curious about him?"
"Abraxas," Riddle's voice turned soft and coaxing. "You know you are my closest friend and the one I trust above all others." Now that was a load of horseradish if Harry had ever a sense for such things. Yet the way he said it was deeply convincing to anyone who didn't know better, he even got his eyes to lie for him, looking at Abraxas entreatingly with seeming affection. He truly was an amazingly brazen and shameless liar who knew how to charm. "Trust me when I say it will be beneficial to let me handle Evans and try to sway him to our side. He is already there on the most important things - he knows muggles are dangerous - and he's powerful enough to be useful. If nothing else, I believe I can aim him as a weapon at Grindelwald's forces should there prove to be need to do so."
Abraxas nodded, looking a little like he'd fallen under a spell as Riddle moved closer to practically whisper to him. "You know I am not generally close to others. Yet I feel I can tell you things I could tell no one else. I admire your competence and skill. I think if you applied yourself further, they could even match mine like no one else can. You'll strive to impress me this year, won't you?"
What a manipulative little motherfucker! Surely that was edging too far? Yet Abraxas looked like he'd taken the bait hook line and sinker, straightening and nodding and looking oh so pleased that he was the 'sole party' to be in Riddle's true confidence. Was this how he seduced so many to the dark side? How many different people did he try these lines on? If Harry knew one thing for certain, it was that if Abraxas genuinely matched Riddle that Riddle would murder him, useful or not.
"I admit, I was slightly worried seeing the way you stare at Evans..."
"Whatever you see between me and Evans, know only that I am thinking of how he can be useful to us," Riddle reassured.
Harry then proceeded to watch Riddle perform the exact same party trick on Rosier and Avery. Merlin, that young man truly was a piece of work! Did Harry have a hope with him at all? This was going to be an ugly uphill climb: he needed to avoid letting Riddle get rewarded for bad behavior, but he already was and he'd been doing so for a long, long time. This habit had to be heavily ingrained by now.
"Riddle is dangerous, isn't he?" Black remarked, startling him. Harry had forgotten he was there for a moment, content to drink. "You really don't want to get mixed up with him if you don't like politics."
"I don't, but at the same time, I did enjoy working with him. He was a wonder on the battlefield." Much more enjoyable to be fighting with than against, honestly, although that was true of nearly anyone. "It just seems like such a waste of energy. He could do a lot of good in politics if he could just be, I don't know, persuaded to be less of an ass?" Harry said with exasperation. "I know he probably doesn't seem like an ass, but-"
"But you've seen him moody and vulnerable after he's had his ass hexed?" Alphard guessed. "I can see why that both might make you care about him and feel vexated by him, and I believe you if you say he's secretly a nasty piece of work." That was a palpable relief, although it left Harry curious. "I have a lot of money. It stands to have a sense for when people are being far too charming just because they're after what you have and not who you are." That made sense, and Harry nodded. "That man is a pauper reaching above his station if I ever saw one."
That made Harry shutter off, starkly remembering that this was not his time and not his Sirius, and that even if this man was not a blood supremacist and was the type to donate money to family in need in the future even at the cost of being potentially disowned posthumously, that did not make him a nice person.
"What about me?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.
"You clearly indicated you dislike the nit and gritty of politics, did you not?" Alphard said, amused. "And you strike me more as the type to be where you are due to misfortune." That was true, yet also irrelevant.
This was infuriating. Was he really saying Harry was primarily okay because he interpreted his indifference to politics as 'knowing his place', and Riddle did not? He'd never heard a compliment so insulting in his life.
"So, if you like him because of fighting, how about a friendly duel later in Defense?" Alphard offered.
Harry stared him in the eye. "Gladly," he said, trying not to show too much of how pissed he was.
Riddle definitely sensed something though, because he was heading over as Alphard politely dipped his head and drifted away to other party goers.
"What was that?" Riddle questioned. "I thought you would like him, but you seem sulkier than before you started talking."
"It's..." Harry ran a hand over his hair. "I never quite realized how many rich stuck up snobs there were here who primarily got their way in just due to connections. Even if they display greater talent it's often because they could actually afford private tutors before they ever ended up here in school."
Riddle gave a slight snort, more undignified than he'd expected from him. "Yes. Don't feel guilty about using them, Harry."
Christ, Riddle was trying to give him friendly, fucked up advice? How to fix this? "No, even if they're pricks, manipulating people's feelings is wrong, Marvolo. It doesn't hurt to be friendly, but you shouldn't pretend to be close friends with people you aren't." Christ, how to explain? "You don't enjoy it when you feel me agitated, like right now, right? Just imagine extending that to more people."
"But why in the world would I want to do that?" Riddle asked, bewildered.
Uh... "Because the flip-side is nice too?" He was still embarrassed about last night, but, in for a penny in for a pound. "It's nice when others are happy, to share in that happiness. So it's good to have genuine close friends instead of fake ones." Harry thought and Ron and Hermione again, but less painfully than usual, their memories giving him happiness. If he could genuinely manage to change the past, then he knew they'd be happy with this and proud of him, even if it wasn't their first choice of how to solve things. "It's hard to understand maybe, but, I think the happiness you gain over time well outweighs the pain when it comes time to end, and you never truly forget that happiness."
He could tell Riddle was confused, but not as dismissive as usual. Clearly it made at least a little bit more sense to him than it did before, and that thrilled him. And he saw Marvolo smile genuinely at Harry's pleasure. He really was making progress!
Riddle noticed how Harry lit up when he thought he'd swayed Marvolo closer to his side and opinion on things, and basked in the foreign happiness that emanated from him. It was clear how to handle him now: he simply needed to pretend that he was taking all his friendship lessons to heart, and then Harry would be in that nice, contented state again, which as a byproduct would let Riddle feel some of the exact same contentment.
People really were so very easy to manipulate, once you knew what made them tick.
Christ, why would he ever give a damn about what other people felt? He couldn't actually literately share in their happiness like he could with Harry. Maybe Harry naturally mimed other people's emotions and could, accidentally, get an effect somewhat like the bond, but Tom sure couldn't. He could intellectually empathize and weakly mirror what they were feeling, but that wasn't enough to make him interested in their vapid little lives or get that much out of it; it was less effort and much more thrilling to fuck them up.
He just had to be careful not to oversell it. He clasped one hand over Harry's, glad he'd been working even harder on his occlumency and pushing it to even greater mastery than before. Harry couldn't hear unwanted thoughts if Riddle was careful not to have them in the first place.
"I don't really get it," he admitted, starting with a truth. "But I suppose I could try."
Then he let his hand go so he could think amused to himself, basking in Harry's radiant happiness, that the other boy was such a fool.
general author's note:
The above cuddling is meant to be brotherly and semi-fluffy rather than romantic, but it wouldn't make the worst starting point for an eventual romantic turn, although I'm still leaning against that happening any time soon; they're still not all that far off from trying to murder each other, although Riddle is definitely leaning against now even if he has to drug Harry to keep him; he's finally realized there are benefits to having another, less muted source of emotions he can prod into feeling as he likes and get kicks out of.
I came to a realization that I left myself a plot hole about the 'making Tom ace so I do not have to think about him being a giant creep because his future self would probably rape or something if he was not', in that even if he doesn't, he's connected to Harry and Harry clearly isn't ace. In some ways, this is a good thing in hindsight in forcing me to write more of him being a psycho, because one of the absolute BIGGEST things people get wrong about psychopathy when they write him as psychopathic, as opposed to just 'goes insane from horcruxes', is that a frequent (though not universal) common trait of psychopaths is promiscuity and, frequently, inability to maintain long term relationships very well, just like they often struggle to hold jobs. Tom is higher functioning, so we could imagine him maintaining relationships, but this would actually make him more likely rather than less to be juggling multiple relationships at a time because he could pull off that sort of lying charade for a long time (And, actually, I tried to depict an asexual version of that in this chapter). Psychopaths do things for their own gratification and they often assume they are immune to consequences. This is not a good recipe for monogamy, unless the psychopath decides that they genuinely want to try to cope with the worst of their traits, and that's rare without some sort of therapeutic intervention. It happens, but it's rare: I recommend everyone read the recent New York Times article 'He Loved a Psychopath: Me', which is REALLY damn good and interesting.
Now, I know why people leave this out, because it totally ruins the fantasy to have your suave, psycho dark lord be constantly cheating on your main character who you bizarrely decided to pair with him, but, uh, realistically? That's what should probably happen unless the character is actually demisexual, or you establish a really good darn reason why your psychopath isn't sleeping with lots of people if they had a sex drive before they met the 'love interest'. Trauma could do it, I suppose, considering they are clearly not actually immune to anxiety (although they may experience less of it, especially when it comes to social / shame based anxiety), but Riddle didn't learn his father was love-potioned for some time. Another excuse could be not wanting to be caught and ruining a perfect image, but considering psychopaths often are confident about not getting caught, well, that one is a harder sell. A better excuse might be general trauma over anything resembling the 'weakness' of his parents' assumed loving relationship before he knew better and its clear failure to protect him from being abandoned, although this wouldn't be motivated by any empathy for possible resulting offspring. Or he could be motivated by paranoia that the offspring would try to murder their father, that's a good one if you go with Riddle being motivated by death-anxiety rather than just megalomania in his immortality seeking. You just need to remember that unlike normal people, you probably do need an excuse why your psychopath isn't being totally awful in a relationship that isn't 'they empathize-with/like your protagonist'; a strong realization that it's genuinely the only way to keep them could work, like in that article, but it probably needs to be pointed out to them.
So major content warning for things getting a bit creepier and more sexual this next chapter after Harry eyeballs a witch (most of it heterosexual and in the form of Riddle trying to play amoral wingman, because Harry clearly leans that way and is at most bisexual, but probably not all of it). Now you all decided to read a fic about a psychopath, so I imagine you were prepared for creepy and knew what you were getting into, but I thought I'd give a warning nonetheless!
long essay on book versus film implied level of psychopathy, you can skip if you want:
Another, semi-related thing I wanted to talk about is that I realized the 'he goes nutty after the horcruxes' theory actually holds a lot more salt than I thought it did, but it is actually somewhat dependent on whether you are talking about book-verse or movie-verse. The reason is cultural background coloring the context of what we read/see. British views on terrorism before 9/11 were not heavily influenced by the Ku Klux Clan or modern extremist terrorist groups, but by British Terrorism which was in some ways a LOT more sedate. This helps explain some of the cultural weirdness and one of the scenes from the fourth book - the Death Eaters torment some muggles by levitating them into the air, but one can actually read that as relatively minor tormenting as, if I recall correctly, there is no mention of any signs the muggles were actually put under a torture curse. This reads weirdly if we look at it from a Ku Klux Clan view, but less so if we see it as British Terrorism where going after civilian targets was actually a lot rarer, to my understanding, and bombing public buildings after giving a bomb threat (So time to evacuate) were a lot more common, and terrorists actively tried to gain public sympathy because, well, they were native Brits. The Death Eaters in that scene were possibly drunk and fooling around.
However, by the time of the fourth Harry Potter movie, the visuals of the fourth movie clearly make it so we're supposed to think of them as Ku Klux Clan style assholes. And this is actually not a bad choice because you want your villains to feel like as much of a threat as possible, but it does mean that depending on whether you read the books or watch the films, you are getting subtly different cues about what Voldemort's character during the war would have been like, which also impacts just how psychopathic we are supposed to read him. Book!Voldemort may very well have been slightly more chivalrous, which would help explain why Snape thought he could beg Voldemort to spare Lily, which, while not impossible otherwise, actually seems much safer and more feasible because it doesn't hinge quite as much on Voldemort just assuming Snape wants Lily for a sex toy, if sparing people is something that Voldemort sometimes actually does, albeit more likely for political purposes than out of any actual sense of mercy. If Voldemort had really thought Lily was only good for being a slave, he'd have bound her up, not asked her to step aside, and then no more 'sacrifice of a mother' plotline. Voldemort, as I read him in the books, is an amoral pragmatist, he doesn't actually care about her one way or another except as an annoyance, in the movies it seems a bit more ambiguous to me as he has more of a 'hypocrite like Hitler' nazi-married-kuklux-vibe, and asking her to step aside was him having a power-trip and getting an excuse to murder her anyway.
So it's very easy to read him as two totally different characters depending on film or books (or at least the books before they started being more influenced by the films). Cultural context matters.