Chapter Twelve
The next few weeks passed relatively smoothly. After an initial kerfuffle the day the interview appeared in the Daily Prophet, Tom resumed the surprisingly effective tact of 'out of sight, out of mind,' appearing only for his Occlumency lessons. A couple days into this, Black entered his room.
"Hey kiddo," Black said, sinking into the desk chair in a sort of barely controlled collapse.
"Sirius," Tom replied evenly, not looking up from his book.
Black licked his lips and, seeing the topic of the book, opened his mouth to say something unhelpful. Perhaps he realized how little good it would do though, because he shut his mouth again without saying anything. He gave a dog-like shake of his head and sighed. "I'm taking your advice," he said at last.
Now Tom looked up, brows furrowed. "My advice?" He tried to remember the last time he'd actually spoken to Black.
"I'm going crazy stuck in here with - well, she means well, I guess," Sirius explained bitterly, "but if I have to spend one more day listening to Molly, I'm going to actually murder someone."
"Join the club," Tom muttered.
Black gave him an amused look and continued, "So I got Alastor to get me some Polyjuice, and I'm going out into muggle London. Any suggestions?"
Oh, that advice. Tom considered it. He knew very little of muggle London - even less, perhaps, than Potter. "A bar," he said at last. "Not the kind old drunks like you usually go to though. Find one with some pretty girls you can flirt with." He smiled slightly as he said it to take the bite out of it, but Black still winced a bit.
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm still in my thirties! I'm not that old yet!" Black cried, hand over his heart.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Go pick up a girl and spend some time doing things I don't ever want you to share with me." That was what his less unsavory Death Eaters preferred to do to destress at least. Personally, Tom intended to go to the Room of Requirement as soon as possible to engage in some much needed destruction, but that recommendation was unlikely to go over well.
Black gave him a mock salute and settled back with a grin. "That reminds me, have you gotten the wands and holsters talk yet?"
"Yes," Tom said shortly. In actuality, he'd read a book, but even that experience was more disgusting than he was willing to repeat.
Perhaps Tom hadn't been short enough, because Black didn't take the hint to leave. "So is there a girl you like?"
Maybe if he ignored him, Black would go away?
"Or a boy perhaps? I won't judge."
Just ignore him, Tom told himself, fingers pressing hard against the pages of the book.
"Because, you know, if you're not sure how to ask, I can -"
"No!" Tom hissed. He took a deep breath and released it with a huff. "No, Sirius, there isn't anyone I'm interested in at the moment." Or ever. "Can you please drop it now?"
"Sure pup, but you know, I'm always here."
"And if I ever need that kind of advice, I'll let you know," Tom said. He wouldn't.
That somewhat painful conversation had positive results though. Mrs. Weasley's attention turned from Tom to Black, who cheerfully pretended he couldn't understand her. In fact, the redder her face turned, the happier Black seemed, and Tom supposed annoying someone was as good a method of stress relief as any.
Even Kreacher acted a little less surly, appreciating 'bad master finally doing something other than acting like a layabout.' Tom supposed the elf disliked Black enough to be glad for any reason to spend less time near him.
The only source of irritation for Tom now was Hermione's insistence that he perform the ritual with Ginny sooner rather than later.
"You've done it with Professor Snape, haven't you," Hermione demanded.
Tom shuddered and nodded reluctantly. He shot her a glare at her smirk, knowing she'd felt his discomfort.
"Then clearly it's fine to perform with multiple people," the girl concluded, nodding to herself. "Maybe even Ginny and I could do it. It might make the group stronger if all of us are connected."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "So eager to kiss your professor?" he asked.
As he'd expected, Hermione turned a brilliant shade of red and looked away. "I… didn't mean him too," she finally mumbled. At Tom's pointed stare, she sagged. "I know, I know. He's just as much a part of the group to you as Ginny and I are. I'll… have to think it through more." She wrinkled her nose. "That has nothing to do with Ginny though. You should do the ritual with her before school starts. Everything's already set up here, after all."
In truth, Tom agreed with the teen. However, he felt hesitant about sharing his identity with yet another person. Moreover, he was still adjusting to the bonds he felt in the back of his mind. He didn't feel comfortable adding another, even as the logical part of his mind told him he'd have to get over this aversion.
The bonds were interesting to study at least. The longer he monitored them, the more he began to suspect that his first impression was incorrect. It wasn't that the other two experienced their emotions differently, but rather that they experienced different emotions altogether. Tom had no problem identifying anger, frustration, irritation, pleasure, satisfaction, or curiosity. However, there was a spectrum of what he thought of as 'warm' emotions that he couldn't name. The only commonality was that they all had that undercurrent of warmth, even when the emotion was clearly negative in nature.
He wasn't an idiot. By this point, Tom was fairly certain those emotions were ones formed from their connections to others, something he'd never felt as Tom Riddle. In other words, emotions like love and compassion.
It made him restless, feeling these things, even second-hand. Part of him realized that this was an area he had been lacking in before, but he'd never been bothered by that before. In fact, he'd been proud of it. Such emotions were a weakness, certainly. Logically, they could be nothing but, and yet… They didn't feel weak. He remembered Lily Potter's sacrifice. Yes, she died for it, but she also achieved her objective.
Perhaps those things didn't make a person less capable of achieving their ambitions, but rather merely changed the nature of the ambitions themselves. Could he really say that was lesser? Or was it merely different?
Tom set the matter aside with the same force of will he'd once set toward taking over Slytherin House as a no-name, muggle-raised wizard.
In the end, they came to August 31st without performing the ritual.
They also hadn't received their Hogwarts letters yet, which Tom felt was rather cutting things close. What were students supposed to do if they weren't able to go to Diagon Alley that same day? It came as something of a relief when Ron barged into his room, four letters in hand.
By now Ron didn't even blink at finding Hermione and his sister in Tom's room. Tom hadn't overtly excluded the boy recently, but upon finding that Tom really did spend all his time studying, Ron's interest in resuming their friendship waned dramatically. Ron spent more time with the twins and some of the Order members, only wandering to join Tom's group when he was supremely bored.
Or when outside events prompted it, like now.
"Booklists have arrived," he said, handing out the envelopes. "About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this…"(1)
Tom neatly opened his, examining the book list. "Defensive Magical Theory?" he muttered, eyes narrowing. Who was Wilbert Slinkhard? An unfamiliar book by an unfamiliar author. Unease coiled in his stomach, and it occurred to him that cursing the DADA position might have been a poor decision after all.
Crack.
Fred and George Apparated into the room. Tom rolled his eyes and ignored them, as well as the ensuing discussion about the book by Slinkhard. More importantly, to him, was the fact that it seemed the new professor intended to use the same book for at least two distinct years. Students set to be completing their NEWTS shouldn't be learning from the same book as students only just starting theirs. Tom edged over to Ginny and glanced at her list. The same book. This teacher couldn't have assigned the same book for all seven years, could they?
"What's up with you, Ron?" asked Fred, catching Tom's attention.
Ron didn't answer, continuing to gape at his Hogwarts letter. Or rather, the shiny badge that had come with it. Oh. Tom had forgotten about the whole Prefect business.
"Congratulations, Ron," Hermione said with a smile. She held up her own badge. "I know you'll do a wonderful job."
Tom snorted to himself. She thought no such thing. When Ron looked at him though, Tom only gave him an encouraging smile as well. "Well done," he told him as sincerely as he could while being fully aware that the badge wasn't being awarded for any particular achievement on the red-head's part.
"I - I thought…" the boy stammered.
"We thought you were a cert!" exclaimed Fred, sounding as though this were a deep betrayal on Tom's part.
George, on the other hand, was indignant. "We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!"
Tom laughed lightly. "I don't think Prefect status is awarded based on how many life-or-death situations one gets into," he told them, smirking. "He'd probably worry I would lead all of Gryffindor on my next adventure if he made me Prefect. At least Ron has some sense."
Actually, if Prefect were being awarded based on merit, he thought Dean Thomas made the most sense. The boy was reasonably well-respected (unlike Longbottom), well-behaved (unlike Finnegan who, as far as he could tell, was most notable for his dedication to turning water into wine), motivated (unlike Ron), and capable of going an entire school year without nearly dying (unlike Potter).
Then again, the Prefect position hadn't been merit-based for a long time, if it ever had been. It was mostly political, in three of the Houses anyway. He wasn't entirely sure what Hufflepuff did, since very few of his followers graduated from that House. It did seem like Diggory had represented them well from a merit standpoint, but his father also worked in the Ministry, so who knew which got him the position.
His attention was dragged back to the conversation by Mrs. Weasley's entrance. Tom's lips twisted at the sight of her, but luckily she didn't notice, caught up in her excitement as she was. His irritation only increased as he listened to her. "That's everyone in the family!" she exclaimed, hugging Ron within an inch of his life. Tom didn't blame the twins for their bitterness at the slight.
"Are you alright?" he asked them as Mrs. Weasley drew Ron out of the room, discussing celebration plans all the while.
George's grin looked a little sick, but it was a good effort. "She's just excited is all. Doesn't mean anything by it."
Tom caught Hermione's warning glance and huffed. She'd likely caught his pleased feelings on the matter. This was, after all, precisely the sort of thing he could use to drive a wedge between the twins and their family (and, by extension, the Order). He gave George a well-practiced encouraging smile, ignoring the girl beside him. "Once she sees how successful your joke shop is, she'll come around." Even if she didn't like his motivations, Hermione could hardly fault his actions.
George's smile was a little sad even as he nodded, and Fred flat-out snorted. "Not likely," the boy muttered.
Hermione hesitated, then quickly gave each twin a hug. "Definitely," she more or less commanded.
When they went downstairs, Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, busily preparing to go out with the sort of intensity only managed by someone with too much time on their hands. Tom tilted his head. "When are we going then?" he asked. He needed time to search through Potter's trunk for his key.
"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley looked startled. "I'll be going by myself, Harry."
Tom narrowed his eyes. "No offense, Mrs. Weasley, but I'd be more comfortable getting my own things. I need to visit my vault anyway."
Mrs. Weasley's lips pursed together. "It's too dangerous," she decided after barely any thought. "How much do you need from your vault? I'll get it for you."
Alarm bells started ringing in Tom's mind. "You want me to hand you my vault key?" he clarified, unsure whether the woman was really committing such a ridiculous faux pas.
The woman looked at him strangely, and he felt a moment of relief before she said, "No, dear. I've still got it from last year."
What. the. fuck.
Hermione gave him an alarmed look and grabbed his hand as his wand dropped into it, nails biting into his skin and redirecting a small portion of his anger. "Please," she whispered, brown eyes wide and pleading.
After a long moment, Tom nodded shortly, grit his teeth, and pasted on a wide, fake smile. "If you could, I'd like you to get me an additional fifty Galleons and several sets of day robes. I'd like my key when you get back too. It would be unfortunate if I needed it at some point and couldn't get it from you."
Mrs. Weasley seemed uncertain, but after a moment, nodded. "Of course, dear," she said.
Once the woman was gone, Ron turned to face him. "Look mate," he started.
Tom cut him off. "Later," he replied shortly and all but dragged Hermione from the room and to the library, warding off their section of it before giving in to the urge to scream inarticulately. He glared at her. "Why the fuck did she have my key?" he demanded.
Hermione trembled slightly, and swallowed hard. "Harry gave it to her last year to buy his supplies. I guess… I guess she never gave it back."
Tom was already searching Potter's memories and, when he finally found the right one, was utterly thrown by how little interest Potter attached to the memory. The boy likely wouldn't even have thought about his key again unless he found himself needing it. "Do you have any idea how… No, of course you don't, you're a muggleborn," he muttered to himself, ignoring the way the girl bristled. He stalked back and forth, fists clenched. "Listen," he said finally, "how do you think your parents would react if… I don't know… a friend of theirs asked for their bank account number?"
Hermione blinked. "Um, well... " Her brow furrowed. "They wouldn't give it, of course, but… I think they'd probably take it as a joke. I mean… you just don't… do… that…" Her voice trailed off as she realized the parallel.
Tom finally collapsed into his seat and dropped his head into his hands. "For all I know, the woman's emptied my vaults." He held up his hand, cutting off the offended retort he could feel Hermione building up. "No, I don't think she necessarily did that, but the point is that I don't know. I don't know what she's been doing, but there is no good reason for her to have kept my key for the past year. She never even should have asked for it in the first place."
Funds would be vital in any campaign to take over the Ministry. Potter's trust vault didn't contain enough to use bribes, but he would need it to buy his way into social events a school-aged Boy-Who-Lived wouldn't normally be invited to.
Besides which, Potter's vault was his now, and he was nothing if not possessive.
He felt a warning tingle from his hastily erected wards and, with a frustrated sigh, released the wards to let in Ginny and Ron.
Ron spoke first. "Are you okay, mate?" he asked. "You were kinda scary in there."
Tom grimaced. "I had… forgotten that I gave her my key, and I've since learned how improper asking for someone's key is considered."
The boy scoffed. "Well, yeah, I guess, but that's just for those real traditional families, and they're practically all Dark anyway."
"The Longbottom family is considered Dark now?" Tom asked mildly. "I wonder if Neville's heard…"
Ron flushed. "I said practically," he muttered mulishly, but Tom had already moved on.
"In any event, I shouldn't have lost my temper." He took a deep breath. "I think this summer's just getting to me." He shot Hermione an apologetic glance. He'd frightened her, and that went against the role he meant to play at the moment.
Ron shrugged that off. "Anyway, I wanted to make sure… Are you really okay with this?" Anxiety was writ across his face, and Tom was startled to realize just how young these children were. Had he ever been so vulnerable? Doubtful.
Tom smiled. "The Prefect matter?" he clarified, and Ron nodded. Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm totally fine with it. Being Prefect would take a lot of time, and I'd rather use that time doing something other than patrolling empty halls."
"Alright then, thanks," Ron said, visibly relieved. It seemed the boy had forgotten that Tom didn't actually consider him a friend after his actions at the beginning of the summer. That was fine though. Tom would continue treating him cordially without extending any trust, and Ron was welcome to take that however he liked. The boy brightened. "Did you hear? Mum's going to get me a new broom! I mean, not a Firebolt, of course, but a Cleansweep at least!"
Tom really couldn't care less. "That's great, Ron," he said. "I'm happy for you."
Hermione huffed at the lie, even as she repeated it.
It wasn't long before Ron went to tell the twins about the broom, leaving Tom alone in the library with Ginny and Hermione. The moment the door closed behind the boy, Hermione turned to him, hands on her hips. "Alright, Harry, you need to do that ritual tonight. There's no more time." There was an irritatingly stubborn set to her jaw. "You promised to listen to my opinions, remember?"
Tom grimaced. He had, and he was aware that he hadn't given her a worthwhile reason for refusing to cooperate on this. Of course, he'd meant that to be related to politics and other such policies, but he supposed he'd never specified, and that was on him.
Ginny glanced between the two of them, blushing and completely missing the undercurrents to their interaction. "I've learned the spell, and I know what to do," she told him. "Hermione said it's really helping her understand you better. I'd… I'd like that too."
Tom sent Hermione a half-hearted glare, but nodded. "Fine, tonight then."
Hermione beamed, and his lips twitched at her happiness. He knew she still had moments of intense, crushing sadness, but she seemed to have, for the most part, convinced herself that they would succeed at rescuing Potter's soul. So long as she continued to confine her doubts to late at night, when there was no one around to notice, they wouldn't pose a problem.
Dinner came and went, with Mrs. Weasley delivering his supplies, gold, and key to him. Though her lips were pursed into a disapproving line, she said nothing, for which Tom was thankful. In return, he went straight back to his room rather than stay with everyone and potentially (most likely) antagonize her more.
So it was that Ginny came to his room after everyone else had gone to bed. They performed the ritual. Tom kept expecting it to get easier, and yet it was still just as uncomfortable as ever. As they separated at the end of the ritual, Tom collapsed back as yet another rush of foreign emotions and thoughts and urges threatened to overwhelm him. When he at last managed to close off the newly formed bond to settle in among the others, he opened his eyes to find Ginny staring at him intently.
"Yes?" he drawled, when she made no move to ask the question he knew must be running through her mind.
The girl wet her lips and steeled herself. "Tom?"
He inclined his head, refusing to express just how very good it felt to hear his true name spoken aloud.
She shook her head slightly in denial, but pressed on. "What happened to Harry?" she asked quietly, voice faltering.
"Dementor," he replied. "Turns out he's been a horcrux all along, so without his soul in the body..." He shrugged. Preempting any demands, threats, or coercion, he added, "I've already sworn to rescue his soul from the Dementor if at all possible."
She spent a moment processing that. Finally, she swallowed and nodded. "Hermione knows then?" At his nod, she closed her eyes, lips pressed together tightly as though to keep something in. A single choked sob still escaped, but otherwise she remained silent, breathing shallowly and clutching the chair under her as though her life depended on it.
It was only interesting to watch her for a few seconds. Tom was very nearly asleep where he sat when she at last looked at him again. She gave him a watery, half-hearted smile. "I've missed you, Tom."
That admission was somehow too much though, and she burst into tears, drawing her legs up into the chair with her arms around her knees defensively. Tom tensed, not sure what to do about this development. Checking their bond, he felt an alarming degree of guilt and self-loathing that he only partially understood. He wavered before settling back in his chair and opening a book, giving her space. In the end, she quieted without him doing anything, and when he checked on her, she was asleep.
Tom eyed the sleeping girl warily. Hermione and Severus were far easier to understand. He thought back to the last time Ginny had been upset and, with a flick of his wand, he levitated her over to his bed and laid her down. That should be satisfactory, he decided. He felt he'd been inordinately considerate tonight, an opinion that solidified as he realized his choices were to share a bed with her or sleep on the floor. It was no contest. He cast a cushioning spell on the floor, transfigured himself a blanket and a pillow, and fell asleep himself.
1 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Nine
AN: I don't want to make Molly Weasley necessarily awful, but… She's kind of awful. Not that she doesn't have her good points, but those aren't very much on display during this section of the book.
Also, thank you everyone for your reviews. I don't want to start any precedent for thanking people individually, since that feels like some artificial word count padding there, but it's always happy when I read a new review, and it makes it easier to maintain the discipline to sit down and write five days a week. So, you know, thanks for helping me keep going toward my goal. I really appreciate it.