Chapter Three
A pounding headache, vertigo, and hushed voices greeted him when he awoke. He kept still, mind racing to catch up. No, this wasn't a hangover, and the events of the previous night weren't an alcohol-inspired nightmare - though, despite having imbibed nothing more potent than water for decades, he sorely wished he had been drinking. He opened his eyes, and immediately shut them again with a pained groan. Even behind closed lids he could tell his vision was swimming, and he'd soon faint again if nothing changed.
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," said the last voice in the world Tom wanted to hear. "You may open your eyes without repercussions now, Harry."
He did so, sitting up as quickly as he could. "Headmaster," he greeted evenly.
Dumbledore sighed and turned to the other two men in the room, Remus Lupin and a tall, pale man Tom belatedly recognized as a much-aged Sirius Black. "Remus, a word, if you will?" It wasn't a request. Lupin grimaced and nodded, and both he and Dumbledore exited, leaving Tom alone with Black.
An awkward silence stretched out. How close was Potter to Black? Had they met often? At all? He needed time to view the boy's memories, but everything seemed to be conspiring to prevent that. Finally, Black coughed and smiled sheepishly. "So… Welcome to Grimmauld Place. Sorry about the poor accommodations, but the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black didn't want people to be comfortable enough to stay. Or visit, really." He scowled slightly at his family name, but the look faded quickly.
Tom sighed to himself, grit his teeth, and pasted a not-even-slightly charming smile on his face. Hopefully it didn't come off as a grimace, but he'd take that over Dumbledore walking back in and seeing Tom Riddle's expressions on his boy saviour's face. "It's fine." Did teenagers say fine? Did Potter even talk like a normal teenager anyway? "What was that with Dumbledore though?"
"Oh, that." Black rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Dumbledore's not too happy with us bringing you here, especially with the Fidelius." A shadow crossed his face. "Or so he says. Personally I think he just doesn't like any of us acting without permission," he muttered. .
Tom evaluated the man before him critically. So Black wasn't pleased with Dumbledore? He might be able to work with that. "The Fidelius? Like my parents?"
"Yeah," Black answered with a wince. "Dumbledore's the Secret Keeper, so at least we don't have to worry about that." He gave his head a quick shake, rather like a dog shaking off water.
"Anyway, it's an uncommon enough charm that information about it is pretty sparse. We weren't sure if we even could bring you here without you knowing the Secret, but Remus thought it was worth the risk to get you safely under some wards. Scared the shit out of us when you fell over the second you were inside."
Now that he knew the Secret, Tom could remember seeing the house from the outside, followed by Black opening the door and pulling him in, but he also remembered not being able to perceive any of that. He frowned. Thank Merlin Pettigrew was such a coward. He'd originally planned to find a way around the Fidelius, but getting inside only to be rendered unconscious would have ended everything quite permanently.
He dragged himself back to the present conversation. "But I can stay now?" he asked. "Even if Dumbledore doesn't want me here?" Tom couldn't help the slight grimace as he said the headmaster's name, but thankfully Black didn't seem to notice or, if he did, care.
"Of course, Harry. Technically, it should be my decision in the first place, as your godfather, but being a fugitive muddies everything. Still, now that you're here, I can make sure you stay the rest of the summer at least." Black smiled sadly. "It's not quite everything we hoped for, but it's something, at least."
Silence fell over them again, Black looking depressed and Tom having trouble determining what Potter might say here. Finally, he licked his lips and swallowed. "It's something," he agreed softly. "And we can always work toward more in the future." That sounded good, he thought. Necessarily vague, as he'd not the slightest what Black was talking about, but a sentiment that covered a wide range of situations. This seemed to be one of them, if the look on Black's face was any indication. It was a mixture of relief and, Merlin help him, fondness.
He was saved from any further heart-to-hearts by the door opening again. It was Dumbledore, absent Lupin. "Sirius, I'd like to speak with Harry alone for a moment, if you wouldn't mind." Black scowled, but ruffled Tom's hair and left without complaint.
Tom regarded Dumbledore warily, taking in the serious expression on the man's face. He couldn't possibly… Wait. Alarm flooded him. Did Dumbledore know? It shifted into panic. Of course he did! How could he not have recognized that Potter had a horcrux living in his head? With that old lady saying she'd thought he had been Kissed, what else could Dumbledore think? How had Tom missed this? Oh Merlin and Morganna, he suddenly realized. What if Potter's brain just wasn't equipped to be as brilliant as Tom Riddle's? (And of course it wasn't, because Tom had few, if any, equals.)
"Harry?"
Dumbledore's voice jerked him out of his panic and he shook himself. Dumbledore couldn't possibly be certain though. If he were, there'd be no reason to tell him the Secret. Tom took a shuddering breath and looked up at the Headmaster, meeting his gaze and doing everything in his power to shield his thoughts and act like a schoolboy who was definitely not Tom Riddle. "Sorry sir, I'm still feeling a bit off," he said with an apologetic look.
"Quite alright, my boy." Dumbledore smiled genially, but oddly enough, avoided his gaze. Well. Whatever that was about, Tom wasn't about to look a gift abraxan in the mouth.
"I suppose you're wondering what I wanted to talk to you about," Dumbledore said after a moment.
Had he been waiting for Tom to say something? "Yes, sir," Tom said.
Dumbledore eyed him critically. "I need to know what happened yesterday. Everything you can remember, if you would."
Tom nodded and took a moment to consider. He didn't have Potter's memories of this. He had, actually, made an attempt to view them before Vernon came to threaten him, but the memories were distorted, and he could gather little information from them. He suspected it was a result of Potter's soul being removed from the body.
"I'll try sir," he said with a carefully careless teenager shrug. "The problem is that whatever happened with the dementor, it messed up my memory from yesterday. I remember after my uncle punched me alright though."
Dumbledore gave him a chiding look. "Your uncle would never intentionally punch you, Harry, and it's dishonest to label an accidental hit as such."
Good to know Dumbeldore was still a bastard. "Very well, I remember everything after my uncle accidentally thrust his closed fist into my face," Tom smiled brightly.
"...I'd like to hear the events before that, if you would," Dumbledore said without further comment as to what constituted a punch.
The man still refused to care for his students, Tom seethed internally. Even gods-be-damned Potter just got gaslighted. "Fine," he said shortly, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his arms. "I know I was at the park, and then I was in the tunnel with Dudley, and then I was being shoved into the Dursley's house. Everything beyond that is a mess until Uncle Vernon threw open the door to my room." He looked down. "I don't even remember the dementor myself, really. Just that I was told there was one."
Dumbledore regarded him. "And how do you feel? Arabella was quite certain you'd been Kissed."
Tom stared at the old man blankly. "I can't have been Kissed. I'm still here, aren't I?" he asked.
There was a tense moment when he thought the man might accuse him straight-out, but it passed. Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "Quite right, my boy, which is why I'd like to know how you feel. Whatever happened, I believe it unlikely you came away from it entirely unscathed."
Did he really think that Tom would just come out and say, 'Oh, fine, except I'm actually Voldemort, and I'm pretty sure Potter's soul is being slowly torn to shreds inside a dementor right now.' Admittedly, the thought of Dumbledore's face being told that was a bit wonderful - probably the best thing that had happened to him all decade - but that didn't make it a good idea. He chose his words carefully. "Physically, I don't think there are any lasting effects. My head still hurts," he said bitterly, "and so does my face, but those should be unrelated."
He hesitated, but Dumbledore simply continued to watch, so he pressed on. "Emotionally, I'm… angry," he said at last. "I'm angry no one was telling me anything, that I was being watched without knowing it, that you left me there even though it clearly wasn't the safest place for me, that Voldemort is out there while I'm stuck in a muggle house without any support… But that's no different from yesterday or the day before or the day before that." That much, at least, he could gather from the letters in the boy's trash.
"It was for the best," Dumbledore said patronizingly, "But perhaps you are correct that being safe from Voldemort did not necessarily make your relatives' house safe in general. As such, you will stay here for the rest of the summer." He smiled. "And now, I believe your friends are waiting for me to release you," he said and, with a flick of his wand that made Tom flinch, opened the door.
As the door banged open, two red-haired boys tumbled in. "How'd you know?" Twin A (for they couldn't possibly be anything but twins) asked dramatically. Twin B stood and pulled his brother to his feet, adding, "Our technique was flawless!"
Dumbledore just chuckled. "The rest of you may as well enter. I'll be taking my leave now." He nodded to Tom. "Poppy will be along in a few minutes, and no doubt she'll expect you to take things easy for the next few days."
He left. Tom watched him, lips pursed thoughtfully. Did Dumbledore suspect him or not? If he didn't, that would make him an idiot, but what purpose could he have for leaving a boy who could possibly be Voldemort here? He sighed. Too much about Dumbledore didn't make sense, and it never had. Putting the man from his mind for the moment, he turned his attention to the teens before him. Three more had arrived: a younger red-haired boy, a red-headed girl who had to be related to the three boys, and a brunette girl. He supposed, based on his limited knowledge, that the younger boy was Ron. Either girl might be Hermione, but given the anxious look the brunette was giving him, he was willing to bet both that she was Hermione and that she, at least, was aware Potter was likely furious with her.
The others hadn't been mentioned in the letters at all, nor had last names, though he thought it safe to assume these were Weasleys. He held up his hands warningly. "Sorry," he said, not having to feign a wince, "but my head's still killing me. Can we talk later?"
The twins bounded over, gave him an overly pompous handshake each (at the same time, no less) and ran off after saying they were glad to see him. The younger girl echoed the sentiments and extricated herself without complaint. That left the two he least wanted to spend time with, for the simple reason that they were the ones least likely to be fooled. He eyed them critically. "Later?" he repeated.
He may as well have been speaking to a wall. "Harry, mate, glad you're alright," Ron said, clapping him on the back.
Hermione was mildly better, staying back and wringing her hands. "When we heard about the dementor, and that you might have been Kissed, we…" Her eyes shone with unshed tears. Dear Merlin, she had better not start crying on him. He hated listening to people cry. He'd yet to meet a person who didn't sound twenty times more annoying while crying.
"Ron, Hermione," Tom said, closing his eyes and counting to ten, "it wasn't a suggestion. I haven't gotten a chance to rest since the dementor, and between that, the wards here, and Uncle Vernon 'accidentally' punching me in the face, my head feels like it's splitting open."
The girl gave a little gasp, and the boy looked ready to argue against leaving, when Black reappeared, leaning against the door frame. "Come on, you two. Out. You can talk to him again tomorrow."
As they left, Tom mouthed, 'Thank you,' to Black, who smiled and nodded before closing the door. Alone, finally, he fell back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Time to review Potter's memories.
AN: I like the idea of Tom adopting wizarding society's idioms to further distance himself from his muggle upbringing, but damned if it didn't take me way too long to realize there are magical horses. I was off like "don't look a gift niffler… no… crup? Nooo….. Phoenix? Who the hell is gifting a phoenix?"
As far as a release schedule goes, I don't have one. I have a two-year-old daughter, and this is getting written in my spare time between mom-ing, housewife-ing, raiding, and playing Genshin Impact. So, you know, it's competing with a lot. Still, it should probably continue at about this pace. No real reason it shouldn't.