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November 1945

Five months passed in a flash, almost too brief for anyone to notice, and in a blink of an eye, midsummer melted into late autumn.

During the four, five months Harry spent since he returned to Godric Valley until the present, he'd always felt peaceful.

There were no 'earth-shattering' events that took place - every day was spent calmly and quietly. Harry continued his efforts in research and learning, looking for weaknesses, and becoming stronger as autumn was ushered in stealthily during his time training intensively.

Harry would hazily contemplate that maybe such a busy and simple life wasn't so bad. But this kind of lifestyle was destined to come to a close.

A knock at the door broke his concentration.

A brief, "Is Tom home?" greeted Harry when he swung open the door. The woman before him whispered the question from just beyond the stoop of the front door, looking down as her hat revealed only half of her pointed chin. She spoke rapidly, and her deliberately-lowered voice made it so that Harry was unable to react in time.

If it weren't for her familiar voice, Harry would never have known who she was.

Harry quickly stepped away, motioning for Joan to enter the house. "No, he went out for work. Why, did you need something from him?"

Joan gestured vaguely with her hand, stubbornly standing by the door with an anxious frown. "Harry, do you know," she hesitated, the look on her face clouding over with mild concern, "where Tom has been these past couple of days?"

"...Was he not at work?" Harry was somewhat surprised.

Joan held her silence for a moment, her gaze deliberately calm as she stared back at Harry. "A group of house-elves' bodies were found at the sea nearby."

"This," Harry stuttered, "Tom might not have…"

Joan threw her arm forward, grabbing onto Harry's wrist, her expression drawn so tight it looked on the verge of cracking. "I've no way to prove it yet, but believe me, Tom Riddle's mad!"

Joan glanced about quickly and, after confirming there was nobody around, she lowered her voice to an urgent murmur, speaking as if she was in a hurry. "I don't know what Tom Riddle is doing exactly, but he must've had something to do with this matter; it wouldn't surprise me if you were involved in some of his plans too." She trailed off, her sense of urgency evaporating with the furious frown marring her features.

"Just be careful of Tom," Joan said with concern, patting Harry's shoulders. Seeing Harry's ignorant expression, she didn't plan on explaining anything to him in detail, nor did she have the time to.

Joan gave Harry a complicated look, her mind having already ran through a thousand scenarios.

Even if Tom really was the future Dark Lord, even if Tom really was cruel enough to ignore the lives of others, Joan was certain Harry would be safest out of everyone. With the importance Tom placed on Harry, he would go out of his way to keep Harry safe.

But Joan still couldn't relinquish her concerns.

"Alphonse invited you to stay over at his house for a few days, you…?"

This was how Joan protected people; by keeping them within her line of sight.

This challenge to the Devil's claim of ownership and possessiveness over Harry was as good as provoking him.

This course of action had the potential to completely anger him.


For the past four, five months, unless deemed necessary, Harry seemed to always stay behind closed doors in his study.

And Tom was happy to see that; he even hoped Harry would be like a pet in his captivity, all movement restricted within his set boundaries.

So, when Tom came back from Borgin and Burkes and saw the dark and empty house, Tom's heart tightened, skipping a beat.

Tom flicked on the lights, flooding the whole house with clarity; at a glance, it was completely empty.

Tom stood by the door, looking at the deserted living room.

He left! Such a thought rushed to the top of his head, making Tom, who hadn't had the time to even smile and put on a facade after opening the door, instantly appear savage in his despair.

With a thunderous expression, the tall young man hurried up the stairs, hoping that Harry was just sleeping in his room.

Still empty!

The tyranny, dominance and paranoia that had been suppressed for such a long time amplified and distorted in his loneliness.

Tom insides flooded with regret; regret not announcing his ownership right from the beginning and abstaining his ability to act; regret not choosing to completely possess him.

He stalked down the stairs, and the cloying feeling of rage paused as he suddenly saw the inconspicuous post-it note posted behind the door.

"Alphonse invited me to stay at his house," it read.

The familiar handwriting carried the flippancy and impulsiveness of youth.

Tom tore the note to pieces.

Alphonse? It must've been that blasted Joan's idea.

Tom pulled his lips in a smile, his lips twisted his face into a sneer filled with malice.

Annoying Auror. I'll be rid of you, yet.


The next morning, Tom waited by Joan's office door with a false smile.

The weather had changed with the seasons, and the late Autumn chill made most wizards don on their coats and cloaks.

Tom was wearing his black-suit jacket, accompanied by his onyx wizarding robes; his neat hair was parted and styled to shine like ebon. The elegance and sense of nobility he carried himself with often became a cause for those around him to assume he was a direct descendant of a Pureblood family.

"Good morning, Miss Joan," Tom greeted politely, smiling when he caught Joan's obviously-guarded eyes, "Could it be that Miss Joan's going to be entertaining her guests outside her office?"

Joan was silent as she led Tom into her office.

"Then I won't beat around the bush." Tom's expression instantly turned cold, his jet-black eyes the colour of splashed ink fixing on Joan. "Where is Harry?"

"He's staying at a friend's place for a little bit-"

Tom interrupted her then, voice arctic, "He has a home."

Joan smiled coldly. "Isn't it a pity a murderer lives in his home?"

"Murderer?" Tom narrowed his eyes, gaze flinty.

Joan slowly leaned weight onto the palms of her hands placed flat on the table. She squarely looked at Tom with eyes as sharp as knives. Her gaze left him with nowhere to hide.

"Tom, I'm sure you're under the impression that all your sordid little plans played out flawlessly, seamless." She paused, waiting on him to squirm, but Tom remained as cold as the corpses he left in his crime scenes.

"Your so-called Death Eaters, the cave," she said slowly, voice firm and detached, "There will come a day when all that you've done will be exposed. Everyone will know." Her gaze sharpened, an eerie gleam bleeding into them. "Harry will know."

Tom shifted, leaning back on the settee, watching Joan with all the leisure his posture allowed, "I'm not sure how you've come to this conclusion, but I am of firm belief that you've no evidence to prove your case, correct?" His darkened eyes barely masked his glee.

Joan suddenly found it hard to breathe. It's true that she didn't have any plausible evidence to back up all the claims she just made. Most of her current understanding came from patched slivers of information she had the good fortune of coming across, but it wasn't until her last assigned case that she was convinced of Tom's guilt.

A dying house-elf's willingness to relinquish certain implicating information confirmed some of her incriminating assumptions about the young man, but in the end, the house-elf died, and it was too late for the victim to say anymore.

"Director Joan," someone knocked on the door, "the (1) Chief Executive is looking for you."

Tom gave her a grimace of a smile as he stood up. "Since little Miss Joan seems to be busy, then I'll have to pay Alphonse a visit. Directly."


"Chief Executive, what's the matter?" Joan asked the man behind the desk after a saute.

The half-bald Chief Executive sorted out the documents in his hands without raising his eyes to look at her.

"Joan, finalize all current notes to the cases you've been currently assigned, and pass them over to Auror David."

Joan frowned in confusion. "But Chief Executive, I'm half-way through my paperwork, and I'm almost finished with many of my tasks."

The Chief Executive sighed. "Joan, haven't you figured out your situation? You've been demoted."


Tom put his hands in his pockets, his expression placid as he followed Alphonse to his house.

Joan, this is only the beginning.

And, Harry, love - do remember that you forced me to do this.


(1) 执行长 means CEO, but I used Chief Executive instead-