Chapter Twenty-Seven

Being someone who could and generally did hold eternal grudges, Tom had trouble understanding how the Weasley children were able to ally themselves with him so easily. When he tried to ask Ginny about it though, she hit him and said, "You can't insist you aren't Voldemort only when it suits your mood. Stop being such a Gryffindor and just accept our help."

Fred and George had their own take on it. "Once a Weasley makes up their mind to do something, there's nothing anyone can do to stop them." (1)

Ron added, "And it's not your fault that you're not Harry. It's not like you sent a post owl to Azkaban saying 'hey dementors, could you come to Surrey sometime this summer?'"

Tom felt like that logic wasn't entirely sound since he had, at the least, gone and made enough horcruxes that he'd managed to accidentally make one while trying to murder a one-year-old boy named Harry Potter, but their opinion was in his favor, so he did as suggested and accepted it.

Dinner was exceedingly uncomfortable. Beyond his own overstimulated nerves, which he ignored using Occlumency, Mrs. Weasley still hadn't moved, and everyone else moved around the kitchen as though she were simultaneously not even there and also a sleeping nundu. Unlike over the summer, the meal was cold and bland. Tom glanced at Black. "Did you make this?" he asked, fully prepared to demand the man either learn to cook or get a house elf that could.

Black winced. "No." His eyes darted toward Tonks, then back.

Tom hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I appreciate the attention to nutrition, at least, even if the flavor's not ideal." He saw Tonks duck her head just a little too late to hide her smile, and Black raised an eyebrow at him. Tom shrugged. A metamorphmagus Auror was far too useful an ally to insult for something as petty as poor cooking.

When dinner ended, Tom waved his wand and began cleaning up without a word. As he did, Hermione took over the stove, setting the kettle on and preparing tea for everyone. She planned on a late night in the library, and she was sure Tom would be there as well. Ginny would follow where Tom went, and she rather suspected Ginny's brothers would follow as well. Tom finished just as the kettle began whistling, so he got to watch the indecision on Hermione's face as she looked at Mrs. Weasley's empty cup. "Here," he said, and took the tea from Hermione. He strode over to the table, stole Mrs. Weasley's cup, and sat the new one down in front of her.

The woman looked up, blankly, looking twice as old as she had over the summer, then lowered her gaze to the cup and continued to just sit there.

Tom tried not to let his impatience show on his face. He'd seen this reaction from time to time, typically after killing someone's immediate family, and he'd never understood it. Narcissa had once tried to explain it to him at his request, but grief was something he didn't understand in the first place, so her explanation had made little sense. To Tom, Lily Potter née Evans epitomized the proper reaction to the death of a loved one. She hadn't shut down or given up. She'd remained focused on her goal and been willing to do anything and everything necessary to achieve it… and she'd succeeded, though he hadn't understood that at the time. He sighed, pushing down the regret for killing her. It did no good, and if he hadn't killed her, he wouldn't exist.

As Tom headed upstairs, Ginny followed close behind him. "Mum's brothers died in the last war," she said quietly. "I don't think she ever really came to terms with that. Not properly anyway. And with Dad now…" She sighed. No doubt she could feel how little Tom cared about her mother's backstory. She changed tack. "Just be nice, okay? Please? We fight a lot, but she's still my mum, and I still love her."

Tom grimaced, but nodded. "You didn't need to tell me," he said shortly. "I'm well aware of your ridiculous overabundance of feelings." When he entered his room, he found the other three Weasleys inside. Ginny followed him in, and just as the door closed, Hermione pulled it back open. She took a moment to take in the crowded room. "We're going to the library," she announced. "There's tea, if anyone wants some." Ginny immediately followed her out, while Tom gave her brothers a flat look. Their trunks had appeared in his room. "You aren't staying here." His room wasn't big enough for this.

George gave him an easy smile. "Course we are. You didn't think we'd let you spend the night alone with our baby sister -"
"And our adopted sister -"

"Did you?"

Tom glared at them. "It's a room meant for one person. Six people can't stay in it."

Ron shrugged. "You can expand it, can't you?"

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. His body hurt, and he didn't want to deal with anything extra right now. "We're in a heavily warded house previously owned by some of the most paranoid dark wizards in living memory. If I wanted to expand this room, I'd need to design an entirely new enchantment made specifically to wind its way past these wards. If I got even one element of the equation wrong, it could destroy this entire street."

George nodded as though he'd understood that, then asked, "So you can expand it, can't you?"

Despite feeling a flicker of pleasure at the clear expectation that he could do anything, given the right incentive, Tom shook his head. "It would take more time than I'm willing to put into it. I intend to spend the winter break seeking a means of extracting Potter's soul from the dementor." He hadn't, exactly, been planning that specifically, but it did need doing and had the benefit of forcing them to give up. .

He glared at them once more for good measure. "Get your things out of my room. You can meet us in the library when you're done."

Tom grabbed the books he'd originally come to retrieve, then left them to it and headed to the library, where he stayed, reading and occasionally sharing information with the others, until well past midnight. When at last he made his way to his room, Hermione and Ginny in tow, he hesitated for just a second before opening his door. He wasn't sure what he'd do if there were still five people attempting to stay with him. To his relief, because cursing one of Ginny's brothers right now was just asking for trouble, their things were gone, and the room was empty.

At last, Tom relaxed his tight hold on his Occlumency. Immediately, a wave of dizziness swept over him, and Tom collapsed onto the bed without changing.

"Tom?"

He turned his head to the side to look at Hermione and made a questioning noise. He was already half asleep.

"Just let him go to sleep, 'mione," he heard Ginny say. "C'mon, let's -"

He blinked slowly, a feeling like static taking over. He pushed himself up, trying to force himself to stay awake. Hermione looked worried, while Ginny looked guilty. Tom concentrated as hard as he could. "Aftereffects of the Cruciatus," he mumbled, words slurring as his tongue refused to move correctly. "Just need sleep. Sev'rus'll have the potions please."

The next thing he was aware of was Black's voice, loud and impatient. "What did you just give my godson, Snivellus? What's wrong with him?"

"Sirius, please, I promise he's fine," said Hermione with thinly veiled irritation.

Tom opened his eyes to find Ginny holding one hand and watching the argument, amused. His mind ran back to the night before(?) and he sighed. "Professor Snape had the necessary potions then, I take it?"

"Indeed," sneered the potions master. He had his wand out and a monitoring spell shimmering in the air before him. "Who cast this?" he asked abruptly.

Ginny couldn't have looked more guilty if she tried, so Tom didn't bother to answer.

Severus's eyes narrowed. "I see. I would recommend any future practice be done with less vigor, Miss Weasley." As the girl blinked owlishly at him, Severus returned his attention to his patient. "You, however, should have known better," he near-snarled. "What were you thinking, waiting almost twelve hours before sending for my assistance? You know full well that this potion is most effective taken in the first hour after exposure."

Tom grimaced. He felt not just anger through the bond, but also concern. It made him feel… guilty. Still an awful and worthless feeling. Worse, he didn't have an adequate answer for the man. He simply wasn't used to having the option of requesting help. As Voldemort, he couldn't allow his followers to see any signs of weakness if it wasn't entirely necessary. As Harry Potter, he was meant to be brave and reckless and full of stupidly self-sacrificing pride. As Tom Riddle, he had no experience with the adults around him being actually helpful or concerned for his welfare. "It didn't occur to me, sir," he said sullenly.

Severus studied him critically. "Are you teaching this to all the members of your little club?"

Tom snorted. "Of course not. Neville's learning the original light version though, and Luna's quite taken with his light version. She hasn't cast it yet, that I know of, but I expect she'll be equally adept when she does." He glanced at Hermione, who smiled hesitantly back. "Padma's the only other one learning anything similar right now. She says they're much more pragmatic in India."

Severus shut his eyes, looking like he very much wished he hadn't found out his students were learning those curses. "And my godson?" he asked, eyes still closed. "You cast it on him?"

Tom's expression closed off. "Yes. If he wants to play at being leader of Slytherin House, I'll have him take responsibility for their actions."

"Would you be willing to take him?" Severus asked. "If I can persuade him?"

That took some thought. "...If all three Malfoys swear their loyalty to me, I will offer them what protection I can. If Draco alone swears it, I will keep him alive if I can, for your sake." The man turned to leave, but Tom grabbed the man's wrist, ignoring the choking sound Black made. Thank you, Severus, he thought to his servant. In return for your loyalty, I will remove the curse I placed on Draco, regardless of his decision.

Severus barely reacted, aside from a slight inclination of his head, before sweeping out of the room.

Black stared at the doorway, then at Tom. "What was all that?" he asked, sounding as though the universe had suddenly flipped upside down on him.

Tom glanced at Hermione, then Ginny. Severus? Your opinion on Black, if you would.

He's an arrogant, reckless, hypocrite who attempted to feed me to a werewolf. He's adequate at Potions though, unfortunately.

Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I meant, would it be better for him to think you and I are having some strange affair or should I simply tell him the truth? It was absolutely worth the mental imagery for the sheer degree of disgusted horror he received back from Severus.

A… version of the truth would be preferable, Master.

Tom smirked. "Well, what did it look like?" he asked Black, attempting to screw his face into something more innocent.

Black's eye twitched. "It looked like you're… friends with the great bat."

"Well, we have kissed," Tom said thoughtfully. "I suppose that might count as being friends…"

Hermione dropped her head into her hands with an exasperated groan.

Tom laughed. Black had turned an unhealthy shade of green. After his recent stress, it was a relief to be able to torment the man with something so ridiculous. He smiled. "Sorry, just kidding." The lighthearted expression felt uncomfortable, pulling his face in directions it rarely went. He stopped, letting his face fall to its natural blankness. "Professor Snape is acting as our club advisor. Hermione, Ginny, and I have started a study group, since Umbridge is worse than useless."

Black let out a whoosh of breath in relief. "That's not something you should even joke about, Prongslet," he admonished, but he also looked like he was trying not to laugh, so the effect was a bit ruined. "And what was that about cursing Malfoy? What curse were you practicing anyway?"

Tom glanced at Ginny. She grimaced, but said, "The Cruciatus."

"What?!"

Tom pinned Black with his best glare. "As a last resort. If Death Eaters come after us, I want everyone to have one or two spells they can use that will end that threat long enough for that person to escape. That means picking spells each person has a strong affinity for and practicing them. For me, it's the Killing Curse. For Ginny, it's the Cruciatus. I let her cast it on me for practice, and sure enough, even though it was her first time casting it, it worked perfectly."

Black stared at him, eyes wide. "You - you've cast the Killing Curse?"

Tom stared back. "Yes."

"...who?"

Tom hesitated. "Does it matter to you?"

Now Black was the one to hesitate. At last he grabbed a chair and sat. "Yes and no. I don't like the idea of you using the dark arts, and I disapprove of you killing any innocents." He shook his head, smiling crookedly. "But if that's the direction you're going, then I'll follow. I love you, Harry, and I always will."

Shaken, Tom glanced to the side, toward his trunk. He sighed and retrieved the locket and threw it to Black. "Voldemort made horcruxes. We don't know how many for sure, but the diary that possessed Ginny in her first year was one, and he bragged about it to me. I found this here last year, and didn't have a handy basilisk on me, so I killed it the only way I knew how."

There was a sudden crack! and Kreacher appeared, tears in its eyes. "Filthy half-blood master destroyed Master Regulus's locket?"

Tom took a step back warily. "Yes."

The elf flung itself at him, and Tom jumped back onto his bed and out of range. The elf hit the side of the mattress and fell to the floor, where it knelt, blubbering, "Oh thank you, good half-blood master! Kreacher tried, he did! For so many years! But he couldn't destroy the locket even though good Master Regulus ordered him to! Poor Kreacher had to punish himself many times but at last good Master Regulus's last wish is fulfilled!" The house elf rose to its feet, then bowed low. " Anything good half-blood master wants, Kreacher will gives." And it disappeared with a pop.

The room was quiet for a moment, everyone digesting that. Eventually, Hermione retrieved the diadem from her trunk. "He killed that too," she said, then looked around nervously, only relaxing when no overexcited house elves appeared.

Black looked torn for another moment before apparently deciding that illegal dark spells were the greater priority, even if they were more acceptable when used on pieces of the Dark Lord. "I don't want anyone casting the Cruciatus again," he said. "Especially at my godson. You might not know, but that spell..." He looked haunted.

Tom tried to sound understanding, even though he wasn't. "I need Ginny to cast it once more, when she's not upset, to be sure she can cast it without the emotional push. After that, she won't cast it again outside of emergencies."

Black hesitated. As a former Auror, he undoubtedly knew that was the standard method of teaching the Unforgivables for emergency situations. Once in a heated situation and once while calm, giving the best chances of successfully casting it in an emergency while still minimizing the chances of affecting the user's mental state. Finally, Black sagged and nodded. "I suppose you chose yourself as the target for a reason?"

Tom nodded. "I wouldn't have done it without carefully considering it." He had. While he disapproved of the time, place, and reason for Ginny's first attempt, he'd always intended to be the target she practiced on, because it really needed to be someone who'd experienced the spell before. With its cumulative effects, a younger body was better, so Tom was a better choice than Severus.

"And you understand the danger to the caster?" Black asked. Without letting Tom reply, he faced Ginny, expression grave. "Ginny, it felt good when you cast it, didn't it?"

The red-head's eyes widened, and she shook her head slightly. "No! I -"

Black gave her a sad sort of smile. "It did. I know, because I have a strong affinity for that spell too."

Ginny stared at him while Tom listened, brow furrowed.

Black continued, "When your magic likes a spell, it feels right to cast it. It's easier to perform, and you can do things with it that others can't. It can seem like a different spell altogether at times. But, and this is especially true of spells that require a certain frame of mind to cast, it also feels incredibly good to cast them. You start to think of that spell first before any others, justifying it to yourself and others, saying you had to or it was the best spell for the situation… But in truth, you just wanted a chance to cast it again. Over time, you start to change. For the Cruciatus, you start not just enjoying the spell, but seeing the pain it causes." He seemed to be looking past Ginny, perhaps seeing a version of himself they'd never met.

Tom had heard people like Dumbledore say similar things, but had never credited it as anything more than Light bias. Coming from Black though, someone who had clearly experienced it, it felt different.

Ginny lowered her head. "I - I kind of get what you mean, Sirius," she said. "But it really didn't feel good to cast it." She swallowed. "But I could tell that, if it hadn't been T- if it hadn't been on Harry… Then it would have. Like, really really good." She looked back up. "So I'll be careful. I promise."

Black sighed heavily. "Alright then. Normally I'd insist you cast it the second time on someone else, because the effects are cumulative, but if you can avoid the addictive properties by targeting Harry, then that's probably for the best." He turned to Tom. "I've only ever heard of one other person with an affinity for the Killing Curse. I think you can probably guess who."

Himself, of course, Tom thought as he nodded. He wondered if the real Potter was the same.

"It might be because of what happened when you were a baby, but it might also be because of your relation to the Peverells."

Tom blinked. "What?"

Ginny perked up. "Oh! Like the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Black grinned. "Exactly. The Potters are descended from the third brother. And, well, I know it's just a fairy tale, but in the magical world, fairy tales tend to have more than a grain of truth to them."

"And Voldemort was descended from the second brother," Tom said to himself. He remembered a certain horcrux that suddenly seemed far more interesting.

"He was?"

Tom started, unaware he'd spoken out loud, and grimaced. "Ah, yeah. Um, Riddle - the diary - was… comparing us and brought up our connection that way, but I'd mostly forgotten it."

Black stared at him speculatively for a moment, then nodded. "Then, yeah, it's probably related to your relation to the brothers."

Tom tilted his head. "Do you think it's actually possible that the person who possesses all three Hallows becomes the Master of Death then?" What would that even entail? Would he become immortal? That would nicely solve his problems, if so.

Black barked out a laugh and shook his head, grinning. "No idea. No one's ever done it, you know. There were rumors that Grindelwald had the wand though, so I'd bet Dumbledore would know where that one is if you ever decide to go looking."

Now that Tom thought about it, Dumbledore's wand was different after his fight with Grindelwald, wasn't it? He smiled to himself. Luckily, murdering Dumbledore had always been a part of the plan.

"Anyway, my point was that I don't know what effects that spell might have on you, so be careful with it." His part said, Black went to leave. "Tonks is downstairs. She said you wanted to talk, so I'll send her up, alright?"

"Thanks, Sirius," Tom said.

When the door closed, Hermione turned to him. "I'm worried," she said. When she was sure she had his attention, she elaborated, "Once we discovered the bonds were affecting you by keeping you tethered to your body, I started considering it. What effects might the bond be having on us? The sample size is so small, it's difficult to tell, but… I think there might be a bit of a feedback loop involved, and I also wonder if maybe… If maybe you were more right than you meant to be when you said you were a bad influence."

Ginny frowned at her. "You mean that you think I wouldn't have cursed him if it weren't for the bond?"

"Sort of." Hermione wrinkled her nose, grabbing a strand of hair and playing with it anxiously. "It's hard for me to say for sure if we've changed. And if we have, I don't know whether those changes are a direct or indirect result of the bond. Still, I think we should watch out for that at least. Tom, do you know if Professor Snape's been any different lately?"

Tom considered his interactions with the man. "He's been calling me 'master' of his own volition," he said. "That's… potentially strange, but it might just be a result of having to call Voldemort 'my lord' before."

Hermione had a strange look on her face. Tom frowned at her. "What?"

"Oh, sorry." Hermione blushed and smiled sheepishly. "I just thought… well, that sounds kind of nice."

"You want Professor Snape to call you master?" Ginny asked, a grin spreading across her face.

"No!" Hermione's blush deepened. "Mistress might be nice though."

Ginny laughed and picked up an imaginary potion vial. "Your work today is…. acceptable, Mistress." She burst into a fit of giggles, and Hermione laughed too.

Tom smirked and tried to pitch his voice lower, closer to Severus's. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mistress."

Both Ginny and Hermione stopped laughing. Hermione squirmed, and Ginny stared at him. Just as he felt his face start to heat up with embarrassment, Ginny blurted out, "That was… kind of really hot." She gave Hermione a sly glance. "More for her than for me though, I think."

Hermione scowled at Ginny. "Only because you'd rather be the one saying it."

Ginny shrugged easily. "Well, yeah." She sent Tom a mischievous grin. "What do you think? Should I start calling you Master?"

Whatever Tom might have said, and he really wasn't sure what to make of the turn the conversation had taken, was put on hold by Tonks walking in. She looked at the three teens bemusedly. "Interesting conversations you have," she commented. "So, you had something you wanted to talk about, Master?" She fluttered her eyelashes, which grew cartoonishly long.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear that from you," he said. "But I just wanted to ask if you'd gotten any of my letters. I sent you several this term, but I never got any replies. I wouldn't be asking, but I haven't gotten replies from anyone all term."

The Auror's eyes narrowed, all joking gone. "I got one, and I replied, but that was it. You're saying you sent more?"

Tom nodded. "And I never got your reply either."

"Tampering with the mail…" Tonk shook her head, looking pained. "If you think it was Umbridge, there's unfortunately not much anyone can do. It's not technically illegal for teachers to intercept and confiscate mail if they deem it dangerous."

Tom clicked his tongue in irritation. He'd suspected as much, but it was still frustrating to have it confirmed. "Can you teach me the messenger Patronus then?" he asked. "I won't use it outside of emergencies, but I'd rather not be stuck hoping Umbridge doesn't confiscate my letters if I need to contact someone outside of Hogwarts."

Ginny shot him a nervous look, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could.

Tonks shrugged. "Sure, can do. Now okay?"

After half an hour, Tom felt ready to try. He pulled on Potter's memories of casting the Patronus, then added his own relatively happy memories. "Expecto Patronum."

A brilliant white shape spilled out of his wand. A phoenix. Tom smirked at Ginny, then told it his message in a whisper. A moment later, his voice came from his patronus. "I thought of you," it said to Ginny, who made an amusingly high-pitched squeak and looked faint.

He had. As Voldemort, he had very few memories that could qualify as 'happy,' and certainly none of the kind that might power a patronus. But if Harry Potter could use the idea of having a home with a man he'd only just met, then Tom could use the peaceful memory of stroking Ginny's hair as she slept with her cheek nuzzled up against him.

A flash of jealousy hit him, and he raised an eyebrow at Hermione. Then he shrugged. He concentrated, remembering Hermione's thoughtfulness, the way it felt when she hugged him, and the scent of her hair, and cast the spell again. This time, it was a crow. Tom tilted his head to the side and nodded. "Fair enough," he said.

"That's from thinking about me?" Hermione asked, sounding suitably awed.

Tonks whistled. "I thought you were kidding about the harem thing, but damn. Any other patroni hiding in there?"

Tom considered it. Severus was important to him, but he didn't generate any particularly happy feelings. Luna, on the other hand…

This time, it was an owl. At the curious look from Tonks, Tom said, "Luna Lovegood."

"Not Snape?" Hermione asked. It wasn't until Tonks burst out laughing that she realized what she'd implied and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Tom rolled his eyes. "No, not Professor Snape." He wondered if any of the other people he bonded with would have a patronus specific to them. He thought Neville might be one of them, but he wasn't sure about the third for that set, or if there would be any more sets after that. Nine was a good, cubed number, but it didn't feel quite right to him.

Tonks smiled softly. "I'm glad to see that you're doing alright now, Ginny. It seems like these two are good for you."

Ginny blushed, but nodded. "Thanks, Tonks."

The metamorphmagus clapped her hands together. "Right! I needed to talk to you too." She bit her lip. "What do you think about Remus Lupin?"

Why on earth was she asking him that? Tom shrugged mentally and told her, "He's an alright teacher, but he puts too much stock in his status as a werewolf. He uses it as an excuse to avoid doing anything that makes him nervous instead of confronting things like everyone else. He's too indebted to Dumbledore for me to really trust him, but his ability to disguise himself without magic is impressive."

Tonks nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Harry. That's all I needed, so I'll be seeing ya. Gotta get back to work for now."

The rest of the break was spent studying. With more minds available to him, Tom set Fred and George to seeking methods of containing a soul, starting by providing them a step-by-step description of the horcrux ritual and what aspects needed to be changed. Ron and Ginny were seeking information on the extraction method, and Hermione was finally getting a chance to fully devote herself to designing a better method of muggleborn integration.

That left Tom to plot the broad strokes of their futures alone. He smirked to himself. He so very much looked forward to the look on Dumbledore's face when his boy hero killed him. It would be second only to the moment Voldemort's confusion turned into understanding and, soon after, despair.

AN: With FFXIV Endwalker early access starting, this will probably be the last chapter for a week, ish, depending on how long it takes me to get through the MSQ. After that, it'll still be slower, since nano's over and I need to work on art too, but it shouldn't be too bad unless the savage raids come out while we have family over for the holidays. That… would probably kill my writing time, yeah. I think those usually don't come out till about three months in though, so it should be fine.