Tom couldn't help the staring. Covertly of course. He would never be so plebian as to do so blatantly.
But it was such a bizarre sight. Even more so than seeing men and women dressed in eclectic bathrobes buying and selling cauldrons and brooms and animal entrails.
Not that he had ever been in a bank, but aside from the sinister non-human tellers, Gringotts looked everything like what a bank should look like. From the gold veined marble floors, walls and counters to the high ceilings with hanging chandeliers. It was very opulent and rather imposing but unlike the understated luxuriance of Peverell Manor, it made him slightly uncomfortable.
Standing next to Harry in front of a counter taller than his current height, Tom inadvertently clutched at Harry's robes as he listened to the conversation currently taking place.
"That's correct, I claim Tom Marvolo Riddle as a ward of House Peverell. As his magical guardian, I would like to request for an inheritance test and then a trust fund to be set up on behalf of Tom." Harry requested succinctly to the goblin behind the counter.
The goblin reached long spindly fingers to the edge of the counter, peering over it at Tom who looked back unblinking. He was not about to show any timidity, raising his head proudly. A man like Harry is his guardian after all.
"Very well, Lord Peverell. If you'll have your ward sign here with the blood quill." The goblin pushed over a piece of parchment and a black, long and thin quill with a wickedly sharp point.
Tom caught the furrowing of Harry's brow and flash of distaste in Harry's vivid and expressive eyes. It wasn't long before Tom discovered why.
Though, the slight sting from the quill was largely ignored as Tom watched with interest as the parchment soaked up the bloody inked name and words began filling out the parchment. Unfortunately for his affected adult manners, he couldn't keep the flush of red from the tips of his ears from having to be lifted into Harry's arms in order to see the counter and sign his name.
Tom watched the bloody ink form many strange looking names attached by lines. To be honest, the magic inherent in the inheritance test fascinated Tom more than the actual content. He doesn't want anyone else but Harry in his life. Though, he felt very warm inside knowing that Harry brought him to the wizarding bank to sate his curiosity regarding his roots. He hadn't forgotten that Harry was also going through the trouble of making his ward status official in both the Muggle and wizarding world as well as setting up a trust fund for him. It was rather overwhelming and Tom had to blink away the sudden burning in his eyes.
"Hmmm. Well, I guess it was too much to hope that the Gaunts would have still possessed anything in their vault not to even mention their lordship and Wizengamot seats. If they even possess any heirlooms from Salazar Sytherin and Cadmus Peverell, it's definitely not in their vault." Harry mused as he looked at the very nonexistent list of assets under the Gaunt name. "No matter, either way my Tom won't be in want of anything." Harry smiled fondly at little Tom who was still perched in his arms.
Tom returned with a small but genuine smile of his own. It's silly, but since meeting Harry and being adopted by him, the feeling of unease that Harry will return him to the orphanage melted away to be replaced with security in his connection to Harry.
After all, a legal and financial link compared to a blood link was more secure in Tom's eyes.
"We have spent enough time here, I think. Are you bored, Tom?" Harry asked on their way out the gilded doors of Gringotts.
Clutching the parchment inked with his family tree, Tom nodded. He was eager to have a closer look at wizarding wares. They had only window shopped on their way to the bank and while that was exciting too, Tom wanted to explore inside as well.
In particular, he had seen two branching streets on either side of Gringotts which let him know that he has only seen part of the wizarding shopping district. From what he had glimpsed, both Knockturn and Horizon Alley looked very different from Diagon Alley but no less interesting.
"Harry where are we going now?"
Harry paused for a moment outside of Gringotts, "Hmmm, I actually have some business on Horizon Alley but we can shop while I take care of that."
Walking down the paved roadway of Horizon Alley was a completely different experience to walking down Diagon Alley. For one, it was much quieter - there was no shouting or hawking of wares from shopkeepers, no haggling from customers. The storefronts were also exponentially more orderly and tasteful. Fairy light lamps were evenly spaced on both sides of the street. There were even elegantly carved benches here and there to rest on. The customers fit into the environment, looking obviously upper class with expensive, finely cut robes, moving from shop to shop in a graceful, sedate pace.
Tom observed with wide eyes. As if infected with the atmosphere, he unconsciously straightened his back and lifted his chin.
Harry smiled. "What do you think? It's not as much of a visual experience compared to Diagon, but it does have its charms, I think."
"It is most definitely more seemly than Diagon. Are there bookstores here too?" Tom was definitely of the opinion that he prefers Horizon Alley. The best part had to be the lack of...crowding.
Catching sight of the almost unnoticeable wrinkle of his nose, Harry grinned wider in amusement. It was adorable how serious and adult-like Tom was when he only reached his thigh and looked so huggable.
Tom narrowed his eyes up at the grinning adult walking by his side. Completely unaware at the way his cupid bow lips turned down into a pout.
Harry couldn't help but to kneel down and squeeze Tom in a hug. Before Tom could react with more than widen his eyes, Harry had already straightened up with a slight cough. Pretending that he hadn't just completely lost control of himself.
Tom watched as Harry's demeanor returned back to his composed aristocratic bearing. As if the brief transformation into a hug monster hadn't happen.
It was just his luck that he would be stuck with a bipolar adult. His image of Harry as an elegant, mysterious aristocrat was completely shattered.
He wonders why he feels so warm though?
Tom pressed his lips together.
.
.
"Hadrian, what a surprise to see you!"
A curvaceous witch in champagne colored robes swept over to meet them at the front of the shop, red lips stretched into a wide smile.
Tom was immediately on alert. He didn't like the glint in those eyes.
"A pleasant surprise, I hope. How is the shop, Celeste?" Harry returned with a crooked smile of his own.
"As splendidly as ever. Did you even had to ask? My new winter collection has met with raving reviews." Celeste delicately affected a demeanor of being affronted, though the amusement in her whiskey colored eyes gave it away.
"Forgive me, Madame Celeste, for questioning your art." Harry played along with an appropriately contrite expression, looking very much like a schoolboy caught in troublemaking. It successfully made the other laugh, the elegantly pinned blond curls shaking with mirth.
Harry must of felt Tom's reproachful looks because he stopped the bantering to introduce Tom.
"This is Tom, my ward and a descendant of the female Peverell line. We're here for a new wardrobe for him, both Muggle and wizarding." Harry smiled happily with a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Tom, this is Celeste, the manageress and respected designer and stylist of Azalea St."
"Oh, what a handsome little gentleman!" The glint in her eyes grew. "My new spring and summer collection are still in the works but fall and winter is still recent and in style..."
"That should be enough for now, I think." Harry nodded. Sitting down on a velvet settee while sipping at a cup of coffee, he began fiddling with the mysterious metal box Tom had seen many times now. Completely unaware he had just abandoned little Tom to a lioness.
"So how old are you, Tom-Tom?" Celeste began taking Tom's measurements with charmed strips of velvet, her assistants bringing in fabrics of all kinds and colors.
Standing on a low stool, Tom frowned at the women fluttering around him like butterflies. Even their robes added to the appearance, colorful silks cut in fashionable layers.
"Don't call me that."
Celeste only grinned at the rather petulant response, clearly feeling the enmity Tom was projecting unconsciously and obviously amused.
It's hard to be threatening as a six year old, even for a future dark lord.
"You know, I met Hadrian in Paris during a Muggle fashion show. It's all thanks to your guardian that I'm where I'm now, a Muggleborn creating high end robes and leading wizarding fashion. It's always what I dreamed of." Celeste's throaty voice meandered as she began comparing fabrics to Tom's complexion.
"He's a good boss. It's hard to find employment nowadays. It's not just the Muggles being affected. Those of the lower classes in the wizarding world, the Squibs and Muggleborns, even halfbloods with no notable wizarding heritage, find it hard to be respectably employed. Though, this had always been an issue. It has just become worse with the Muggle wars and everything."
Tom listened with interest, though his face remained blank. It was the first time he could hear about Harry from the perspective of someone who appears to be well acquainted with him. It was both equally interesting and frustrating.
After hesitating for awhile, Tom finally asked a question, "Harry's your employer?'
"Oh yes. Hadrian owns Azalea St. As well as all the other establishments on Horizon Alley. It's well known that the Peverell Lord at the time, had Horizon Alley built on a private stretch of land, next to Diagon Alley and the deed to the land remains in the Peverell family. Shopkeepers like myself rent the shop they manage so we all refer to Hadrian as our employer. He is what Muggles call an investor." Celeste responded matter of factly, as if owning a major street of the wizarding shopping district of wizarding Britain was an ordinary matter.
Folding the chosen pile of fabrics onto an elegantly carved dark wooden tray held in the arms of a young assistant who joined two other assistants holding their own trays with selections of handcrafted boots, Celeste smiled slyly at Tom, "Hadrian is an incredible catch. If he wasn't so secretive and so good at avoiding the media, he would be top of Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor list."
Tom couldn't help furrowing his brows in displeasure. He wasn't liking the idea that strangers are thinking about stealing his Harry.
Harry stood up from the velvet settee outside the fitting room as he saw Tom and Celeste walking out. "Everything done?"
"I've got his measurements and chosen some fabric selections that will compliment Tom's complexion. Now we just have to choose the accessories, my favorite part!" Celeste enthused, blond curls bouncing.
The next half hour had Celeste helping Tom choosing buttons, brooches, cuffs, and ties while Tom tried on boots of all styles but all elegantly handcrafted with Harry not being of any help.
It was rather embarrassingly funny on Harry's part how Tom quickly picked up on the nuances of fashion while Harry still relies on professional designers and stylists to dress him even after all these centuries. Of course, laziness factored in a lot.
When Tom and Harry finally stepped out of Azalea St. with a promise to return for the new wardrobe in the late afternoon it was already a few minutes past noon.
"Well, that was tiring. And I wasn't even the one being fitted. Hungry, Tom? The Fifth Park Place have the best luncheon."
Tom was tired and hungry as well, but also in a fairly happy mood. Though, he would have been less conflicted if he hadn't learned that he would need to watch out for any prospective suitors.
And as Tom sat in one of the gazebos that act as private booths in the Fifth Park Place, he stared at the interloper at their table, the tasty chicken salad in front of him doing nothing to improve his current bad mood.
"I thought I saw you outside of Fifth Park Place. How are you, Hadrian? It feels like years since we last met up." A handsome young man with bronze curls and caramel skin sat next to Harry. Mediterranean blue eyes looking Tom up and down.
"Don't exaggerate. It was last spring during your graduation, Zabini." Harry rolled his eyes at the interloper. But Tom could tell he was pleased to see the other.
Tom stared harder at this 'Zabini.'
"Tom, this is Dominic Zabini, former classmate turn student of mine at Athens'. Zabini, meet my new ward, Tom Riddle."
Zabini raised a brow. "You adopted a Muggleborn?"
"Tom is a descendant of the female Peverell line. I couldn't let one of ours remain abandoned in the Muggle world." Harry replied matter of factly.
Zabini nodded in understanding and then added, "You should bring him around to my place sometime. Matteo is around his age, I think."
"I'll think about it. How's Alessio and Matteo holding up anyway?" Harry asked with concern.
"As well as can be expected for losing wife and mother. But, Sofia had been ill all these years and we all knew what to expect." Zabini shrugged dispassionately.
"Still, you have my condolences. I heard from Carriage Services that the service will be this weekend?" Harry knew Zabini wasn't too close with his sister-in-law so the indifferent tone wasn't too surprising.
Zabini shot an unimpressed look at Harry, "Shouldn't you be knowledgeable about your own business? You know, I don't even know what Lord Peverell, who graduated at the top of his year at the most prestigious magical college in Europe, is doing running a shop for dead people."
Harry only smiled sheepishly at the familiar complaint. He has heard many variants of the same complaint ever since he decided to take up running a funerary home as his main occupation. While he has a position as a parttime lecturer at Athens' College of Magic, everyone had expected him to go into politics, magic experimenting, or even healing. In fact, he has had offers from several European magical hospitals and magical governments' experimental magic departments. Not to mention, he has a seat on the British wizengamot.
"You know I majored in death and soul magic. Besides, it's not like I couldn't experiment in my own lab. The Department of Mysteries is too restrictive for me. " Harry shrugged.
Zabini grumbled, "I also know you have a license in both healing and battle magic. You could have joined the hit wizards with me."
Harry nodded, "I admit, it would have been exciting. But, I knew I was going to be adopting Tom here and a guardian who is absent too often on missions wouldn't be too responsible."
Tom started a little at being mentioned. He had been completely drawn in by the conversation between the two older wizards and had nearly forgotten the displeasure he had felt at his private lunch with Harry being interrupted.
Quickly processing what Harry had said, Tom pressed his lips together, pleased.
Zabini looked surprised for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and letting a grudging sigh.
"Enough catching up. Do you want to join us for lunch? We can head over to Carriage Services afterwards. I have been a bit lax with my shop." Harry flashed a crooked grin as he handed over one of the menus.
The rest of lunch passed by in good food and discussion on the various wizarding occupations.
Tom, didn't like Zabini, but he has to admit, from what he had learned about the qualifications for being a hit wizard, he knew that Zabini was not a weak wizard by any means.
It was fascinating learning of all the different types of disciplines and jobs wizards and witches can choose from. In particular, Tom was most curious about Harry's specialty, death and soul magic sounded very mysterious and formidable, though Harry didn't elaborate too much. The more he heard about magic and wizarding society, the more he couldn't wait to actually read more for himself. He didn't like not knowing anything of the world he was now part of.