Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Challenges listed at the bottom.
Word Count: 2789
AN: Set in a vague timeline where Grindelwald is the big bad, Tom Riddle is the Defence Teacher, and Harry is Harry and not the 'Boy Who Lived', though he is still an orphan.
the one to watch
Tom watched Dumbledore watch Potter and smirked. The old goat had been watching the young Gryffindor more and more as the last few months had passed, and Tom knew the Headmaster was getting ready to make his move.
Tom knew why, of course. Dumbledore was terrified that his army wouldn't be enough to quell the threat that Grindelwald was presenting.
It was mildly surprising that he was turning his attention to the students, though; mildly because Tom honestly wouldn't put anything past the manipulative old man that ran the school.
And Potter…
That Potter was the one Dumbledore looked to wasn't a surprise at all; the amount of power that boy possessed was awe inspiring, and so, so pure.
Not dark, not light, just pure, unadulterated magic flowed through him like an endless waterfall.
It was almost enough to make Tom high when the boy was casting in his classroom.
Unfortunately for the Headmaster, Potter wasn't going to be easily won over.
While he was quiet, withdrawn even, he was by no means malleable. He ignored the attention of the other students like they were too far beneath him to even notice them, though Tom suspected he actually genuinely just didn't notice them rather than anything so arrogant.
And yet, when provoked, he was vicious.
Tom had happened upon an attempt at bullying from a few of the seventh year Ravenclaws who were angry about the rumours of Potter's intelligence surpassing even those older than him.
Potter, small though he was, had attacked back with ruthlessness that made Tom hunger to see more from him, and he'd stood back and left the boy to it rather than intervene like he was expected too.
When Potter stored his wand, it was with the three seventh years unarmed and splayed on the floor, unable to move.
That was the moment Tom decided that he wanted Potter for his own.
Now Potter was a seventh year himself, time was running out to secure Potter's loyalty for his own before he did something stupid.
The current war had nothing to do with either of them, and if Tom had anything to do with it, it would remain that way.
…
Tom perched on his desk as he finished the lecture on the Patronus Charm, his eyes moving over the students.
"I don't expect any of you to cast a corporeal patronus before the end of the term, but you should all at least be capable of an unformed patronus. It will be on your N.E.W.T's after all."
"The exams are months away," Weasley muttered to his seat partner, a Muggleborn witch that Tom loathed.
It had nothing to do with her blood—she was actually a mildly powerful witch, certainly middling in her year group—and everything to do with her attitude; she was a know-it-all, and spouted memorised paragraphs from books as though she didn't have a single original thought in her head.
She huffed at Weasley, frowning disapprovingly. "We need to start preparing for them now, Ronald, I've told you that time and time again!"
"If you two are quite finished?" Tom asked, staring at them over the heads of the other students. Both blushed, Granger looking down at her book, while Weasley looked at the board, determinedly not meeting his gaze.
"Malfoy," Tom said, turning his attention in the other direction. "A patronus. Let me see what you can do."
He picked on the students one by one, choosing them at random around the room. Only two of them managed a cloud of white, until Tom got to the student he'd been waiting for.
"Potter. Let's go, you're next."
Not even bothering to stand up as many of the others had, Potter nodded, and slid his wand into his hand. He paused for a moment, and then intoned, "Expecto Patronum."
Slowly, a train of white smoke left his wand, eventually forming a fox that ambled around his desk happily. Potter's lips tilted up, and Tom couldn't help but be proud of the boy.
"Well, well, a fully formed patronus," he murmured, watching the fox until it disintegrated. "20 points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter."
Potter glanced up to meet his eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Sir."
And, oh, how Tom wanted.
…
Tom watched with narrowed eyes as Potter read a note that had been delivered to him at breakfast. His suspicions were confirmed when Potter wrinkled his nose and glanced up at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore had begun his recruitment.
Tom still believed Potter had more sense, but that didn't mean he wasn't… apprehensive. Dumbledore could be persuasive when he wanted to be, regardless of Tom's own opinions on him.
Tom spent his morning classes considering his options with Potter; should he attempt to strike first, or wait a little longer and see if Potter was inclined towards helping the Order get rid of their problem?
The decision was made for him when his seventh years trailed in. Potter looked awful. Tom frowned, keeping one eye on him as he did a quick fire test about the Unforgivables.
Eventually, he set the class to work on an essay about the Dementors that guarded Azkaban, and crossed the room.
"Mr Potter, can I have a word outside, please?"
Potter glanced up, nodded wearily and stood, his legs almost buckling beneath him.
He made it outside the classroom with what looked like sheer willpower.
"Potter, what are you doing in class?"
Potter frowned. "What do you mean, Sir?"
"You look like you're dead on your feet, Potter. You should be in the Hospital Wing."
If at all possible, Potter went even paler than he already was. "I'm fine, Sir."
The hell he was. Tom shook his head. "Wait here."
He returned to the classroom and spelled Potter's things to return to his bag before he picked it up. Looking around at the students, he said, "I'll be back before the end of the lesson. If any of you put even a toe out of line, you'll be in detention for a month. And the detentions will be with Filch."
Carrying Potter's bag, Tom swept from the room and with a gentle but forceful hand on Potter's back, led him down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing.
"This really isn't necessary, Professor Riddle," Potter protested, though he seemed weak enough that he couldn't actively do anything against the hand on his spine.
"Madam Pomfrey isn't a dragon, Potter, and you'll feel better after she's plied you with potions."
Potter sighed but didn't reply. He allowed himself to be led to the fourth floor without further argument.
Poppy fussed around Potter as soon as Tom handed him over to her care, and dropping the bag on the bed, Tom nodded to the boy.
"I'll be back to check on you when classes are done, Potter."
As he left the hospital wing, he heard a weak protest of "you don't have to do that" but he ignored it. This was too good of an opportunity to waste.
…
Potter was asleep when Tom finally made it back to the Hospital Wing, but he checked his chart anyway. Wizard's flu, made worse by Potter ignoring his symptoms. Silly boy.
"Professor Riddle?"
Tom looked over his shoulder to see Madam Pomfrey gesturing to him to join her in his office.
"What is it, Poppy?"
"It's Potter. He passed out not long after you left him with me, and I ran a scan on him. Usually I wouldn't give anyone a patient's results, you understand, but…"
She trailed off, biting his lip worriedly.
"What is it?" Tom asked again, brow furrowing.
She slid the report across the table, and Tom flipped it open, reading each line with a sinking feeling. He knew these injuries. Hadn't he suffered many of them himself at the hands of the abusive care workers at his orphanage?
"He's been abused."
Poppy nodded. "Quite extensively. I changed him into a hospital gown and his scars… he has a lot of scars, Professor Riddle. More so than even the scan produced evidence of."
"Have you told anyone else about this?" Tom asked, closing the report carefully.
She shook her head. "I thought that, given your history," she gave him an apologetic smile, "you might be the best one to speak to him."
Given she'd be the one to heal his wounds at the start of the new school years, Tom didn't mind her bringing it up. He nodded instead. "I will, as soon as he's better. I wouldn't want to accost him while he's healing, and had anyone done that to me, I… wouldn't have reacted favourably."
Poppy sighed. "I do wish he'd come to me earlier, Tom. It appears his magic has healed most of his injuries but."
"We both know that one's own magic is never quite as good as that of a healer," Tom agreed. "I'll talk to him. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you didn't share that information with anyone else, Poppy."
"Of course. I'll let you know when he's well enough to leave."
Tom smiled. "Thank you."
…
It was a full week later before Potter returned to Tom's classroom, and Tom found himself pleased that the boy looked in much better health.
"We're practicing duelling today," Tom informed the class at large, smirking when he saw a few of them send Potter looks of worry.
Tom matched the students by their last duelling marks, looking for improvement and where they still required further instruction. Given none of the students had a chance of matching up against Potter, Tom saved him for last and then invited him to the front of the classroom.
"Given we're at an uneven number, I thought you could duel me, Mr Potter. I'll take it easy on you," he added, teasing.
He saw the challenge flair in Potter's eyes as his delicious magic built around him just slightly.
"Yes, Sir," was his only answer, as he seemed to automatically fall into a perfect duelling stance.
Tom waited for Potter to cast the first spell, and he wasn't disappointed.
"Diffindo," Potter muttered, his voice low. He was aiming directly for Tom's wand hand, and Tom was impressed when he followed up the cutting charm with a spell chain of six—no seven—rapid fire spells straight after.
"Protego," Tom murmured, following up with his own cutting charm, and then a bat bogey hex for good measure.
It was actually quite challenging, though Tom knew if he truly tried, he could beat the boy. Potter was good, but he lacked experience. Nothing unfixable of course, and under Tom's tutelage, Potter could be incredible.
Eventually, Tom called an end to the duel, nodding his respect to Potter, who'd held his own admirably.
With the class over, Tom allowed them to pack up and leave, but he called for Potter to remain just before the boy could slip out of his seat.
When they were alone, he smiled slightly. "That was well done, Potter. You're quite a lot more advanced than your peers."
Potter nodded. "I thought that was why you saved me for last, Sir."
"Indeed. You seem much better than the last time you came to my class?"
"Fully recovered, Sir, thank you. I, uh. Apologise for that. I shouldn't have been so stubborn."
"You'll know better next time, I'm sure," Tom replied, arching his eyebrow.
Potter blushed—oh so prettily in Tom's opinion, he rather liked the look of flushed cheeks on him—and nodded.
"I have something I wish to discuss with you, though I think perhaps somewhere more private would be more appropriate," Tom said softly. "I'd like you to join me in my office after dinner this evening, if you would?"
"Ah, sorry, Sir. The Headmaster has asked to see me after dinner tonight."
"Of course. Tomorrow then?"
"Yes sir. Is that all, Sir. I have transfiguration next, and Professor McGonagall isn't impressed with tardiness."
Tom snorted and nodded. "Off you go then, Potter. Oh, and Potter?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"I rather believe the Headmaster must dose his lemon drops, given his perpetually happy nature. Have a care, won't you?"
Potter raised his eyebrows, but nodded. "As you say, Sir."
…
Potter sat in the chair like he belonged there, and as Tom poured the tea, he wondered how often he could convince the Gryffindor to return.
"What did you want to discuss with me, Sir?" Potter asked, when Tom had served them both dainty, yellow lined white teacups, and a plate of biscuits had appeared on the desk between them.
Tom twisted his lips thoughtfully. "When I was a boy, I lived in an orphanage," he said, eventually. "The Muggles were… not very nice."
He kept a close eye on Potter's face, and he wasn't surprised to see the knut drop almost immediately.
"Sir, this isn't necessary."
"No?"
"No," Potter said firmly. "I'm fully aware that the way my guardians treated me wasn't right, but I'm of age now, and I never have to see them again. It's past the time that I could be saved from them; I've already saved myself."
Tom nodded slowly. "Very well, Potter. I certainly won't force you to discuss the matter if you don't want to. What I will ask you to do is accept a course of potions that will fix the remaining damage left over from your magic attempting to heal you."
Potter sighed. "I suppose that's reasonable. I didn't… I never wanted anyone to know." He ran a hand through his hair. "But the potions sound like a good idea. Thank you, Sir."
Tom nodded, unsurprised at the admission, but glad that Potter wasn't trying to hide anything. Regardless of the lack of details, Potter had been strong enough to state that his treatment at the hands of the Muggles had been less than decent.
"Very well. I'll see to it that the potions are made and distributed to you in a discreet manner, then."
Potter nodded.
"One more thing," Tom added. "Your conversation with the headmaster, last night."
Potter's eyebrow quirked in question, though Tom didn't think he was imagining the amused glint in his eyes.
"Did you avoid the lemon drops?"
Chuckling Potter nodded. "I did. I also avoided the invitation to join the war, since I know that's what you really want to know, Sir."
Tom's lips quirked in a smirk. "Oh? And how do you know that, Potter?"
"You've been watching me," Potter pointed out softly. "As much if not more than the headmaster has, in fact. People seem to assume that because I'm quiet and I keep my head down, I don't know what's going on in the wider wizarding community."
"And you do?"
"Quite enough, Sir, yes. I decided a long time ago that it wasn't my war, and the fight between Dumbledore and Grindelwald is not for me to join. If their factions wish to destroy each other, then… let them."
"You're not scared of the 'Dark Lord' winning then?"
Potter tilted his head. "I'm a Half-Blood, who is also the heir to two Lordships and two seats on the wizengamot upon reaching my next birthday, Sir. I'm not a target for either side. To attack me would be… foolish."
"You intend to go into politics?" Tom asked, intrigued.
Intelligent green eyes blinked at him slowly, as though he'd asked a particularly stupid question.
"I was born into politics, Professor. I have little choice."
"Interesting," Tom murmured. "Then I believe I'll see you on the circuit, Mr Potter."
Potter smiled slightly and stood, leaving his untouched tea on the desk. "Have a good evening, Professor."
When Potter reached the door, he took Tom by surprise when he paused, looking back over his shoulder. "There are whispers of another, you know? When this foolishness between the Headmaster and Grindelwald is dealt with… well. There's a reason I don't care who wins. I don't think it'll matter in the long run."
"Who is this other, Mr Potter?"
Potter's eyes glinted slyly, a look far more suited to one of Slytherin than the lions den. "He calls himself Lord Voldemort, Sir. He's… an interesting character by all accounts. He's the one you want to watch, if you'd like my opinion."
And with that, Potter slipped out of the office.
Well, well, well. Tom wondered how Potter had even heard the name he'd only been using with a select few, let alone put the pieces together.
With every conversation though, one thing was for certain; Potter was making himself more and more attractive to Tom.
Potter might think that Lord Voldemort was the one to watch, but Lord Voldemort would be watching him right back.
And Tom… Tom always got what he wanted eventually.
Written for:
Urban Safari: 8. Warthog - (spell) protego
Levi-Kart Racing: Charms Goblet: 2. Diffindo
Days of the Year: 39. April 22nd - Thank you Thursday: Write about thanking someone
Aquarium Month: Equipment, 7: Thermometer: Write about someone that is sick/unwell
Zoo Lover's Day: 6. Red Panda: Write about something small but vicious.
365: 34. Admission
Scavenger Hunt: Prompt Set 3: 3. Write a story including the following prompt set: Yellow / Expecto Patronum / Tea
Fantastic Beasts: 127. Marmite: Write about someone being transparently honest about something