With love, Harry
Summary:
In which Harry goes back in time, adopts his arch nemesis and pulls one infamous Dark Lord into his madness somewhere along the way.
"Surprise! Tom, meet your grandfather!"
"Harry. That's Gellert Grindelwald."
"I know. Isn't it exciting!? And he'll be tutoring you to be the greatest Dark Lord ever!"
"What?"
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling is the boss of it all.
Warning: Grammar, perhaps?
Eight
Harry stood by the window and watched the ruckus below him unfold with a smile.
The New Year had rolled in rather slowly this time around. But Harry didn't seem to mind the absence of the nymphs (courtesy of the snow that lay over the land like a soft blanket); the boys were enough of an entertainment for him.
His son, Harry observed, had become livelier after finally receiving his own wand.
Oh, yes.
It had just been two days ago when Harry was practically dragged all the way to Diagon Alley to purchase a wand for Tom. The boy had clearly been so done with all the years of waiting.
(While Tom did think wandless magic was more conventional, the idea of owning a wand still carried some magic of its own.)
This was one of the first birthdays Harry had ever seen the young Dark Lord so excited for.
Stepping into Ollivander's, Harry had been partially apprehensive because the Deathstick had somehow found a way into his pocket again (it was duly returned later that day, this time with butterscotch cookies and premium Honeydukes chocolate as compensation).
Harry had hoped his wand would refrain from striking up a conversation with the old man (yes, Ollivander could, in fact, speak to wands), but judging from the strange and mystified look Ollivander had greeted him with, he knew otherwise.
Harry just sighed and gestured to Tom who was standing by his side. "I'm here for my son's wand."
"Ah." Ollivander nodded, summoning his measuring tape as he shuffled out from behind the counter. "Pardon me but I do not recall ever seeing you around here. Are you new to the area?"
"Yes. Fairly new, I guess." Harry replied, voice tight and guarded. Oh how he wished Septhis had tagged along just this one time. "From the Irish lands."
"Nymphs and wood spirits," Ollivander hummed, "that very much explains why my wands have woken up."
Well, the old man was as intuitive as ever.
"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't really mean to—"
"No, no, you don't have to apologize. They do not mind the occasional visits of one who has been around their kin for a long time." The man laughed as he came over to Tom. "Here, stretch out your wand arm for me. And what is your good name, boy?"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Tom replied with a hint of impatience in his tone as he did what he was told.
"Marvolo..." Ollivander hummed to himself with another nod. He turned to face Harry as the measuring tape worked its magic. "And you are?"
"Harry Mortimer." Harry replied.
"Quite an interesting name you have there." The old man mumbled more to him than to the other as he stepped over to one of the shelves stacked with wand boxes. "Out of pure curiosity, Mr. Mortimer, may I know what wand you use?"
Harry hesitated. "I lost it quite some time back. And while I do have other wands as replacements, none of them work as well as my holly did." He shrugged. "After all, the wand chooses the wizard."
"That is..." Ollivander paused and turned to him with a faraway look. "That is correct, Mr. Mortimer."
"We did come here for my wand, did we not?" Tom piped in rather uncharacteristically.
Harry laughed and ruffled his son's hair. "Yes, we're here for your wand. Sorry, Tommy."
After a short moment of shuffling about on the wandmaker's part, he seemed to have finally found what he had been looking for.
"Here we go." Ollivander said as he laid out a couple of wand boxes on top of the counter. He picked out a fine looking one out of its box and handed it to the boy. "Let's try this. Elm wood, eleven inches—"
Tom took it into his hand and waved it, only for it to spark in a rather bad reaction.
"—and definitely not meant for you." The wandmaker said as he quickly snatched it back. He muttered to himself. "Not quite right I see...supposed to be the least accidental. Hmm, something with more dexterity perhaps?"
"Don't worry, Tom. You'll find your wand pretty soon." Harry assured on seeing his son's pinched expression.
Ollivander turned back with another wand in his hand. "Vine, ten and a half inches with the core of—"
Tom, however, seemed to have found something else that attracted his attention. "What's this one?" He asked as he approached the counter, hand reaching out for a fairly new looking box.
Ollivander seemed mildly surprised as he peered over the boy's shoulder.
"Oh, I never really thought this one would...hmm, interesting." He placed the other wand away to pick up the one Tom had been attracted to with great care.
"This is a Yew wand, quite rare when it comes to its wood," Ollivander began as he handed it over to the boy, "and unusual when it comes to picking its master. Not to mention— this here, is one of a kind. You see, it has the core of a Phoenix's feather: the rarest of all cores."
Tom Riddle's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Somehow, the little Dark Lord just knew that this was the wand.
"Is this new?" Harry asked as he came over to the duo. He could practically feel the excitement crackling in the atmosphere.
"Aye."
The wandmaker nodded, looking misty eyed as he watched on in fascination. The tendrils of the wand's core had risen up as if in a dance to wrap around the wrist of its new master: a sight saved for only those who had practiced the art of wandmaking for many a decade.
"I like this one." Tom declared, blissfully unaware of what was happening.
"And it likes you just as much." Ollivander breathed in awe.
So, Harry thought, this is the very moment Tom receives the wand that shared twin cores with mine.
Somehow, everything seemed so surreal to Harry that he couldn't help but watch on in bated breath.
"Well, Mr. Riddle, it is an immense pleasure of mine to tell you that," Ollivander said, "you have found the favor of a great wand, and it has chosen you."
There was a momentary pause.
"Of course it would choose me."
Harry huffed in amusement, his little bubble of climax bursting.
What a "Tom Riddle" like response indeed.
Somewhere in a dark room, a man stared at the wand in his hand, his wand to be precise as his heterochromatic eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
It had vanished (again) before reappearing by his side with a letter of apology— in which the sender had the audacity to wish him "a very happy and prosperous Dark Lord like New Year" ahead of him.
His fingers drummed against the top of the desk before him where the treats that had come along with the letter were laid out (having already passed the test of not being poisoned or tempered with) alongside his wand and a glass of finely pressed grape wine.
(It was strange how three years had already gone by, and he still had not found the one responsible. It felt as though something, or rather someone was hiding the information he wanted— craved for from him.)
Grindelwald had long since made it a point to always have his original wand on him.
A precaution just in case the one he had become the rightful Master of disappeared in the midst of a battle like it had the very first time before its sudden disappearances became a routine.
It had been alarming, no doubt.
And Grindelwald would admit to having almost brashly trashing the whole Wizarding World to retrieve what was rightfully his.
However, over the course of three years since the pattern had formed, Grindelwald had grudgingly grown used to it; and also drawn a conclusion that perhaps the one responsible for the Elder Wand's disappearances was the Master of Death. Or perhaps, Death himself?
It only seemed logical.
Though questionable.
There were many contradicting thoughts that lined up against his assumption, of course, but just because there were many didn't mean he was entirely wrong.
He picked up the chocolate bar with a pondering look. "Honeydukes, hmm?"
Well, he thought to himself, at least he had a more definite hint to work with this time.
"How about Hogwarts?"
"I doubt the school would favor the thought of having a blood sucking vermin loose in its grounds." Tom coolly replied as he stepped into the study where Harry, Septhis and Sanguini were seated.
"You're late." The vampire sneered at the little Dark Lord.
"Did you sleep well, Tommy?" Harry who had been slowly spacing out brightened up on seeing his son. He patted the empty spot next to him. "Here."
"Good morning, Harry." Tom greeted back as he took his seat while pointedly ignoring the other's remark.
"Alright, now that everyone is happy, cheerful, and awake and finally present here," Septhis drawled with an eye roll, "let's get down to business, shall we?"
"I propose Durmstrang." Tom hummed, eyeing the vampire with a slight tilt of his lips. "Since it is as dark as your soul."
"And Hogwarts is as light as yours?" Sanguini scoffed. "If anything, we would have to switch places. You should be the one going to Durmstrang instead—"
"No!" Harry's sudden exclamation (which had startled both the boys) immediately dissolved into a fit of coughs.
He waved his hands as them, gesturing that he was fine and managed to assure them just that in between his coughs, "I. Just. Choked. On. Air."
Septhis pinched the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes. He murmured to himself. "How subtle."
"Do you need water?" Sanguini offered as he patted Harry's back.
Both the boys were thankfully separated from each other by Harry who sat in between them on the couch. If this had not been the case, Tom would have murdered the vampire rather than shoot him a murderous look.
"I'm fine." Harry managed a laugh as he rubbed off the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. "Thank you."
"I can go fetch a glass for you." Tom said.
Harry shook his head. "Thank you, but let's just finish off with this discussion. Septhis isn't too happy, and we all know how he gets when he's cranky."
Septhis wore a look that said, 'Really?'
The green eyed male just shrugged.
"We might as well resort to sending the vampire brat to Durmstrang." Septhis began. "Because while Beauxbatons also accepts creatures into its premises, I don't think they would willingly take in a vampire with open arms especially with how the war is taking a turn for the worse."
"And Hogwarts does not accept creatures." Harry wore an apologetic expression as he turned to the young vampire that sat by his side. "Sorry, Sanguini. I really wanted you to be with Tom, but the parents would not favor their children being around a vampire, not that I mean you're bad or anything, you're actually very sweet and nice. I don't really think they would have a problem with someone as adorable as you, but you see—"
"Stay on topic." Septhis clicked his tongue, effectively cutting the other off. "Harry."
The green eyed male blinked. "Oh, sorry. I didn't really mean to start—"
"Let's hear from the boy instead," Septhis looked close to simply giving up and walking out the room.
He hated being a mediator.
"Well, if Harry says so, I do not mind going by his decision." Sanguini replied after a pause. "Besides, I wouldn't want Tom being jealous of me for topping all of his classes, really."
(This wasn't entirely false seeing how the two were rather competitive when it came to their studies —Septhis wasn't too pleased at having to teach one more brat— and other activities. But one would have to agree that Tom Marvolo Riddle fared better than the other even though by a slight difference.
As to how Sanguini managed to be almost at par with the prodigious little Dark Lord, the answer would point directly to his obvious training as a vampire noble back home.)
Tom rolled his eyes in response. "Sure."
At that moment, Harry couldn't help but think that his son had perfected the art of "rolling his eyes" from Septhis.
(Septhis, as though reading Harry's thoughts, just looked insulted.)
"And," the pale man put in, "a student without a wand would undoubtedly raise a lot of questions even though we somehow find a way for you to join the school without the students coming to know of your race."
Harry nodded in agreement.
Unlike those vampires who had been turned, the noble and pureblood lines of the race (who were considerably fewer in number) were usually able to wield magic naturally rather than through mediums such as wands.
Much like the nymphs for example.
Speaking of nymphs and wands, Harry's thoughts couldn't help but drift off to two summers ago when Tom had approached him with a rather direct question; one which had completely caught him off guard.
…
"Harry, you were never really a nymph, were you?"
Harry promptly dropped the little pot of cactus he had been tending to with a stuttered, "W-What?"
"In these past few years, I've been watching you." The boy explained as he fixed the broken pot with a wave of his hand. "You've never shown traits similar to your fellow kin, like how the sleep spell during winter doesn't affect you."
Harry blinked at the pot that settled back in his hands looking as good as new.
"And you occasionally use a wand," Tom continued nonchalantly, "while the other nymphs have never needed the assistance of one. In fact, they go so far as to see it as a hindrance; something like holding an extra limb— absolutely unnecessary."
"But I'm a—" Harry tried bringing in that one excuse that had always seen him through sticky situations such as these.
"Harry, the only beings equivalent to male nymphs are satyrs. And as far as I'm aware," Tom deadpanned, "you lack the characteristics of a goat."
"Not all satyrs have to look like a goat!"
Tom Riddle just looked very unimpressed. "Harry, you also lie very much like how a human would when they're caught guilty." He shook his head. "Besides, I've always had this inkling that you weren't a nymph."
Septhis later informed Harry that Tom had confronted him because of Sanguini's words, which he quoted, "Nymphs don't really have pleasant tasting blood. You'd be a fool if you believed he wasn't human."
The little Dark Lord drew his own conclusions— after violently confirming whether or not Sanguini had actually sucked out Harry's blood without his volition, of course.
"Well, uh, I'm not entirely human either." Harry frankly told him with a tired smile.
Tom had paused with an unreadable expression. "You don't have to explain it right now." The boy hesitated before adding. "I will wait for the moment you are willing to tell me."
…
Harry fondly smiled at the memory; Tom was really, really growing up so fast.
An hour later the two boys had dispersed, leaving Harry and Septhis lounging next to each other without the usual air of enmity that came with sharing the couch.
Septhis could detect his Master was in one of those moods that strayed from his usual disposition.
Harry had been spacing out a lot today, resulting in his mind drifting off to the memories of different timelines he'd lived through. He had given Sanguini a light scare as a result when he suddenly began talking to the vampire in Shakespearean English earlier this morning.
Thankfully, Tom had been around to handle situation, having experienced it himself quite a number of times. He had even very patiently explained to Sanguini how Harry would get that way sometimes.
Septhis wondered what had triggered this particular mood after a long while. He shifted, "What are you so muddled up over?"
"Hmm?" Harry shook himself out of his stupor and turned to face Septhis.
"You're spacing out a lot." Septhis pointed out.
"I just..." Harry paused. He took in a deep breath, "Tom will be leaving us soon, like in about eight months, nineteen days, six hours and twenty min—"
Septhis slapped a hand over the other's mouth none too gently.
Harry yelped as he shoved the hand away. "What was that for!?"
"You're activating panic mode."
Harry rubbed his face with an annoyed look. He grumbled. "Does that mean you have to slap me?"
"I simply shut your mouth for you." Septhis calmly folded his legs and replied. "And besides, it's not like that little Dark Sou— Lord will be gone forever."
"But he won't be around for most of the year and for eight consecutive years too!" Harry reminded as he wrinkled his nose. "I don't know; it'll be weird not having him around me as often as in the past few years."
"Wow," Septhis dryly said, "and here I thought you were the one most excited to have him attend Hogwarts."
Harry shut his eyes with an annoyed looked. "You're not getting point here, Septhis."
The other just stared.
"Okay, I do want him to go there because Hogwarts was his home once, and I want him to experience that same love— hey, what's with that expression?"
"Don't mind me, go on."
The green eyed man shot Septhis a suspicious look before carrying on, "Like I was saying, I want him to experience that same love he had for Hogwarts again." He sighed. "But I don't want him to go because— because what if he decides Hogwarts is a better place? And doesn't come home for the winters? And, and…"
Septhis now had a very cynical eyebrow raised at his master's words.
"But of course, why did I even expect you to understand? You've never had a son." Harry said spitefully.
The two lapsed into a moment of silence...
(One which Septhis knew wouldn't last.)
...before Harry opened his mouth, "What if I taught in Hogwarts? Like as some assistant professor or something, you can make that happen can't you? I can have him around me and at the same time, keep an eye on him just so he doesn't, I don't know, decide that Hogwarts is a better home than what I have to offer—"
"Harry, you don't know Tom, do you?" Septhis decided to cut him off right before he could spout out more idiotic ideas.
The green eyed male blinked. "What?"
"Firstly," Septhis cleared his throat as though he was about to start off with a TED talk, "he's your son, and he even acknowledges you as his father, though he doesn't show it as often as one would expect. And secondly, have you never thought about how he would like time apart from you to improve his skills? And impress you with his results? That child you took in has a lot of ambition, and you choosing to butt into his life all the time without giving him any space of his own wouldn't be something he'd appreciate, like it or not. Really, I'm beginning to wonder who the real father is. Your observation skills appall me."
There was another pause before a long drawn, "Oh" as Harry somehow realized a couple of things he had been oblivious to.
"Yes. Oh." Septhis rolled his eyes.
However and unfortunately for Septhis who had believed he had done his part of making his master see the obvious truth, he was abruptly thrown back into a state of wanting to facepalm himself.
"Okay, I get your whole point. But, he wouldn't know if I was disguised and still watching over him, would he?"
A/N:
So, what do of think Harry might do this time? Sit back or take action? :'3
Thank you so much Gurgaraneth, sousie, D C JoKeR H S, the real narnia and Gime'SS for taking your time to review! :')
And also, I'm very grateful to all those people who put his up in their favorites and follows.
Thank you for reading!
[Edit: 21-02-2019] This process of editing is taking up far more time than I'd expected it to, phew. Two more chapters to get through with the whole editing shizz. And then there will be real chapter updates after I'm through with my mid-semester examinations and an assignment of three hundred words *sigh*
Also, thank you TheBalladOfMonaLisa, Maester Ta and Gurgaraneth for leaving reviews! Really appreciate it :')