Come Together Chapter 11 - Family
AN:
Oni: Happy belated New Years And Valentine's Day! I know it took a while for this to update, but real life is a thing I have to worry about and I've been getting less and less time to write.
Tom: But you DID have time to post this all on Archive Of Our Own?
Oni: Aaaaaas an apology, this chapter is a little longer than usual. But we should probably get this show on the road! Tom?
Tom: Hmph. Any dialogue that is all in italics is parse tongue. Any sentence in italics are thoughts.
Oni: Steve?
Steve: Oni does not own the MCU or the Harry Potter franchise. She's just destroying the sandbox.
Oni: Aaaaand ONWARDS!
"I'm just saying it's funny!"
Bucky's grin did not waver under the deadpan glare of both Steve and Tom, and instead took another swig from the horn of firewhiskey. The Sergeant was holding two newspapers in his hands, one of which was the Daily Prophet, and the other of which was Daily Mirror. Both papers proclaimed the fall of Nurmengard (though only the Prophet named it as such), but the face and names of the one who brought it down were different.
"And what part of this, Bucky, is 'funny'?" Tom drawled out, taking out his lighter and lighting the tip of the cigarette wedged between his lips with a scowl on his face.
For the Mirror, it was a rather majestic picture of Steve posing in uniform, with the headlines "CAPTAIN AMERICA DOES IT AGAIN! ANOTHER ENEMY BASE DOWNED" printed above his head. It had only been a week and both the magical and muggle sides were all aflutter, and suddenly the icon of Captain America had somehow grown even more popular than he had been during the first few missions and the USO tours combined. Tom was introduced to a new word, 'franchising', as he gazed with horrified expression at the toys, posters, and other objects depicting caricatures of his Captain and friend.
"Is there reason they always have to make me out to be some sort of lone hero?" Steve muttered with a grimace before drinking from his tankard of butterbeer, "You guys were all there too..."
On the Prophet, however, a different story arises. There, on the front page, was Tom Riddle himself. Or, at least, that's who it was supposed to be. Dumbledore had thought it prudent, for some reason, for Tom to take a page from Steve's book and wear a mask to hide his identity so that when the wizards and witches were paraded into the Ministry with the 'man who saved them', no one could tell that it was just a boy barely in his adulthood.
"Yes but unlike you, we were not dressed in a gaudy red, white and blue uniform." Tom replied, releasing a puff of smoke into the air with a smirk, which turned into laughter when Steve shot him a grimacing pout, "Us Howling Commandos aren't the most colorful... well, unless you count our language. And I must say Captain, I've learned quite a few interesting words in more than just English."
Since there wasn't an overabundance of masks just laying around, nor time to make a proper mask like Steve's (which Tom wouldn't wear anyway, the dratted thing looked far too... American), a regular black gas mask (with the canister removed and the lenses tinted so that one couldn't see through them) was used instead.
"Says the guy who looks like some sort of harbinger of death." Bucky retorted, tapping the moving picture of the wizard marching alongside the freed prisoner, "Your 'Lord Voldemort' look still made the front page of the magical newspaper, despite Steve's colorful uniform. Apparently since you wizards dress in crazy colors anyway, a guy in all black wearing a gas mask in going to cause more of a stir."
Tom himself had argued that his old 'friends' would know immediately, it was the professor who then admitted to wiping that particular bit of information from the students' heads not soon after Tom himself had become a part of the Howling Commandos. The slightly guilty look on his face at stating this only prompted a raise of an eyebrow from Tom, who was doing his best not to show how much that action meant to him. It was rare for Dumbledore to show this much loyalty to someone outside of Gryffindor, so for him to do this for Tom was...
"Quite a stir is a bit of an understatement, really." Tom muttered with a scowl, "I've somehow gained the same popularity in the magical world as Steve has in the muggle world."
While it did the trick, the picture of a man clad entirely in black (including the hat he usually never wore) with a gas mask (something completely alien to the magical community), and the Shield of Slytherin our for all to see, and the words "NURMENGARD HAS FALLEN! WHO IS THIS 'LORD VOLDEMORT'?" made Tom look miles more sinister then your friendly muggle Captain America.
"Which is why I think it's funny!" countered Bucky, holding up both front pages side by side, "Here we have two heroes all dolled up in uniform with shields by their sides all heroic like, the faces of their respective worlds, I mean look!"
Even so, the 'franchising' had bee extended to him as well, courtesy of some muggle officials who decided that Britain needed their own heroic icon to make sure the Americans weren't taking all of the glory. Hence why there were propaganda posters, flyers, toys, and other things holding the image of Tom's new Lord Voldemort getup. Tom had gotten one item of each as they were released, and his friends held him back, laughing, before he could set fire to the dratted things. At least now he knew how Steve felt with the attention as Captain America.
He wondered, briefly, how his younger self would have taken the idea of Lord Voldemort being a muggle symbol of heroism.
"I for one think it's fascinating to see the mirror sides of our two worlds." came another voice, "Though yes, I think Riddle's getup does invoke some, ah, unsettling imagery. Especially with that mask on his face."
Tom turned to see that the voice was none other than Fleamont Potter himself, who then proceeded to order a tankard of butterbeer before sitting down on the empty chair next to Tom's own barstool. He was wearing an overcoat that probably covered the more Wizard-esque clothing he was wearing underneath, but nonetheless didn't seem to be completely out of place in a bar that really was reserved for muggles and muggleborn.
"Potter." Tom greeted with a raised eyebrow, "Now what do we owe the pleasure, seeing as a pureblood such as yourself would normally be at the Leaky Cauldron next door?"
A smile spread across Potter's face as he pushed his circular spectacles back into position. Tom himself hadn't seen the man since the parade in Diagon Alley when the freed prisoners were brought home, though he had heard the man had visited his father with his wife, who had thanked the masked Lord Voldemort for bringing her husband home. The Potioneer leaned back, his grey eyes conveying a kind of determined resolution.
"Many things, actually. But I suppose I should start from the beginning." Potter answered, before his smile diminished slightly, "I'm sure as a Slytherin, you are aware of the fact that the Potter family was excluded as part of the Sacred Twenty Eight, despite having a longer history of magical blood and all that rot."
Another puff of smoke curled into the air, mingling with the many other wisps that floated from the other patrons. Tom regarded the Potioneer carefully, wondering why in the world Potter was bringing that particular subject up. Of course he knew, as knowing the old families (and one's ties to them) was how he survived Slytherin for so long, but such a fact seemed rather... trivial nowadays.
"I do." said Tom with curiosity, one eyebrow raised before turning to Bucky and Steve, "The Sacred Twenty Eight is the group of families that are still considered 'truly pure-blood'. It's a status that holds quite a bit of weight in Pureblood society, though the Potters were excluded from this group."
Both Steve and Bucky nodded in understanding, having heard enough of Tom's previous explanations to grasp the concept of blood purity in the Wizarding World. Potter nodded, satisfied that they had enough past knowledge for whatever he was about to say next.
"Yes, well the reason for the Potter family's exclusion would be my father Henry." The Potioneer continued, "Or Harry, that's what we call him. He was in the Wizengamot during the First World War, or as you muggles called it at the time, the War to End All Wars, and had publicly condemned Minister Evermonde for forbidding us wizards from helping you muggles. His outspokenness had him labeled as a 'muggle-lover' and a blood traitor, and the family excluded from 'proper pureblood society', though between you and me they've been a little more lenient ever since my hair potion started getting popular."
Potter had ended his speech with a jaunty smile and wink, though Tom was already deeply processing the older wizard's words. So it was the First World War that implemented the stigma of not helping the muggles.
"So you're here to..." Bucky began, eyebrows furrowed, "Follow your father's advice and help out with the war?"
At this, Potter beamed at the dark haired sergeant while nodding his head. Indeed, perhaps the innate cheerfulness of others is simply a non-Slytherin aspect. Tom leaned on the bartop, smoke flowing from the burning tip placed between thin lips. It caught the attention of Potter, who had said his part and was now watching the smoke with great interest.
"That is the shortest pipe I've ever seen!" the man crowed, "How do you pack tobacco into it?"
A snort came from the two muggle soldiers, while Tom rolled his eyes at them. Potter looked between them in confusion, grey eyes flickering from the teen wizard and his comrades.
"Good to know we still have things in common, and here I thought you guys would smoke some magical plant that makes fire pour out of your nose or something..." Steve chuckled out, which made Potter tilt his head in consideration.
Truth be told, Tom didn't know anything about magical tobacco, as he only started smoking during the third HYDRA base raid, as it entailed quite a bit of waiting. The rest of the Commandos had taken the small boxes from their ration packs and began lighting the small sticks to Tom's curiosity. Bucky, Tom remembered clearly, had laughed at his hacking and coughing when the wizard had tried the Merlin forsaken thing for the first time. Now that he thought about it, the idea of manually packing tobacco into a pipe sounded rather irritating, no matter what the magical variant was supposed to do.
"Well," Potter thought aloud, "There are different types of magical tobacco, most of which have interesting effects, yes. There is one blend, according to an old schoolmate of mine who was producing it, with the ability to transform the smoker into a blue flamingo."
This time Steve and Bucky did break out into peaks of laughter, causing Potter to grin widely. Tom, on the other hand, felt something pang in his chest watching the merriment of his fiends and Potter, and he didn't quite like it. The sight of the ease of which the older pureblooded Gryffindor had injected himself between Tom and his muggle brethren (was he seeing ghosts where there were none? The thought crossed his mind) made an old emotion bubble to the surface. From his years under the roof of Wool's Orphanage, the emotion he was feeling was easy to pinpoint.
Jealousy.
But that was simply ridiculous. Potter was simply... more sociable... than Tom himself was. Sure, he could pretend like he did at Hogwarts, play the part of the charismatic prince, but that would do nothing in the face of those who know his true nature. Perhaps this feeling will go away with time. After all, Potter would be an immense aid to the Allied forces and the SSR, and Tom could use an extra pair of magical eyes to review his work. Yes, yes, the jealousy will pass.
Convincing Howard that Potter would be a good addition to the team was child's play, the scientist excited with having another magical mind on board. Convincing Colonel Philips and the other higher ups of the notion was like stealing eggshells from a nesting Occamy. It was, however, successful after a three hour verbal warring between the leader of the SSR and Dumbledore. Having another wizard around was a relief to Tom, who now had a little more time to spare now that Potter took on the Potions side of weapons development, as well as being an extra hand in the runework.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing that Potter seemed to be taking over once he joined the SSR. 'Monty', as the soldiers began to call him, fit in perfectly with the group, being a far more open and extroverted individual than Tom was. Initially, he thought nothing of the man's ease of making friends, though privately it grated on his nerves somewhat with how simple it was for the pureblood scion to socialize with his friends.
It started rather small, with the Commandos and Potter going out for drinks, to them sitting around him as they listened to his tales of the magical world. Even worse, Potter began to (whether he knew it or not) take on more of Tom's original jobs, from Technomancy development to Coming with them on raids and fighting alongside them. Such a thing would originally be a good thing if it weren't for Potter dropping hints that Tom should return to his schooling after a few week's time, not that the other soldiers seemed to notice. Was it a figment of his imagination? Was he seeing Potter as an enemy where the man wasn't? He would have dismissed the idea of replacement if the older members of the SSR hadn't started to ignore him in favor of Potter.
Perhaps the addition of another magical closer to their own age was simply more interesting, with Tom being the youngest member of the Commandos by quite a bit, but surely it wasn't grounds to replace...
The feeling of jealousy did not pass. In fact, it elbowed it's way to the forefront of Tom's mind as the days passed. In an attempt to ignore it, Tom threw himself into his work with a vigor that bordered on obsessive. Surely, he thought, if he was going to be replaced by 'Monty' anyway, he should get as much research done as possible. Tom's behavior change after the first few weeks of Potter's 'employment' was noticed immediately by Steve, Howard, Peggy, and the other members of the Howling Commandos. The boy that had just begun to fully open his heart to them had suddenly slammed down proverbial walls, the teen wizard retreating back into his cold and professional persona. On the battlefield, Lord Voldemort's infamy grew despite the addition of the new wizard, outdoing the older magical in ruthlessness. The sea of blood and bodies did little to release Tom of his anger, and many of his friends became worried about him.
It was Bucky that put two and two together after the offhand comment made by Potter about the importance of finishing one's NEWTs and Tom's returning venomous glare, whispered something into Steve's ear, and promptly dragged the black-clad boy to a unused office at the base, much to Potter's confusion.
"You're not being replaced, Tom." was the first thing out of Bucky's mouth, cutting off the scathing remark that had on the tip of his tongue, "Don't think that having another wizard, an older wizard yes, around means that he takes your spot in the Commandos. That's not what being a team means."
Tom opened his mouth to retort, but Bucky held up a hand in order to continue.
"I think Monty's misread you as much as you vilify him. He thinks you're skipping school because you believe you're the only wizard fighting the front, and so he's trying to, well, ease your burden. I really is obvious for the rest of us, but I think that your inherent mistrust and paranoia prevented you from seeing that. Maybe you should actually, I don't know, settle this diplomatically instead of dancing around each other with words."
At this Tom raised a single eyebrow, wondering where Bucky was going with this. There was a high possibility that yes, Potter was indeed attempting to be an overbearing parent (though how was he to know, for he had none) and that his jealousy had clouded his reason. However, the way Bucky's eyes were flickering towards the door whenever he thought Tom wasn't looking told Tom that there was more to the soldier's words than meets the eye.
The purpose for such behavior soon manifested itself in the form of Steve, who opened the door and greeted the two of them with a nod. Behind him was none other than Potter, who came into the room looking rather confused. Tom squashed down the emotions he had come to associate with the man, attempting to follow the words his friends had spoken so passionately (which is rare, coming from the rather laid back soldier), and greeted the wizard civilly. Bucky stood up from where he was sitting atop a desk, saluted, and followed Steve out of the room before closing the door behind him, the lock clicking into place.
A feeling of slight weakness washed over him, and it wasn't until a second later that Tom blinked rapidly, his brain finally catching up to what had just transpired. His two friends had just locked him a room with Potter to 'talk things out', and if they were as Slytherin as he knew them to be, they would have placed a Wizard Trap (the rune array he had simplified and perfected) on the door with some pencil or pen. To test his theory, he attempted to shoot an Alohomora at the lock, only for the magic to fizzle out before it could gather on the Wand tip.
"They used my own work against me." he muttered without venom, catching the attention of Potter, who had been in his own thoughts, "Why am I not surprised?"
Potter chose this time walk over to the teen wizard, sitting down in one of the chairs and fixing his eyeglasses. He seemed to be rather nervous, fiddling with his wand as he gathered his thoughts. Tom decided to wait to see what the man would say, leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed. A minute of silence passed between them, the tension of unspoken words and uncertainty almost thick enough to touch. Finally, Potter decided to speak.
"I'm sorry if I've caused any... undue attention. It was not my intention to make you feel replaced amongst your friends."
So, Steve must have spoken to him at the same time that Bucky had dragged Tom into the room. His words alleviated the negative emotion somewhat, but such things are not easy to let go of, so before the older man could continue, Tom sighed, deciding to listen to his friends advice, though it pained him slightly to do so.
"I, too, apologize for any viciousness that may have been directed towards you, I may have misread your intentions."
At the final word, Tom gave Potter a pointed look, conveying the unspoken statement that he wanted answers. Why would Potter be so bothered by the seventeen year old genius fighting a war that was winning thanks to said genius? He had thought he had made his vigor for fighting and serving known, so Bucky's reasoning made rather little sense. To a wizard, Tom himself was a grown man and capable of taking care of himself. The Potioneer also knew that while NEWTs were important, they could be taken at any time, and surely, fighting in the war is far more important than a score for a career that Tom may not even live to use?
"As you know, I am well within the middle age." Potter began, and Tom quirked a confused eyebrow at him, watching as the man took a deep breath and continued, "My wife Euphemia and I have been trying to conceive a child to no avail. We have already gone past the prime age, and with every year our chances get slimmer and slimmer. Had we a child during that time, they would be your age now, so I when I saw you fighting Grindelwald and his army back when you rescued me, my heart clenched in fear. That could have been my child, my son, putting his life on the line. I... I know it doesn't make much sense, but I suppose I saw you as the son I never had, and I only wanted to see you safe and flowering in the Wizarding World where your genius would be adored. I did not mean to seem overbearing, Riddle."
Out of all the things that he was expecting to come out of Potter's mouth, this was not one of them. Then again, why else would the older wizard behave like some sort of overbearing parent? The explanation made quite a bit of sense, but it wasn't the answer that Tom thought he was going to get. Seeing him as a child and wanting to coddle him, he could see, but not this.
"So..." Tom began slowly, the gears in his head turning as he tried to wrap his head around the idea, "You believe me to be the son that you never had, and may not ever have?"
Potter at least had the decency to blush at the rather blunt statement, but nodded shortly before staring at the wand that he was still fiddling in his hands. Surprisingly, a nervous tick that they shared. Tom thought over this revelation, and found him not recoiling in disgust. Indeed, they both had dark hair, aristocratic features and pale skin (and both descended from the Peverell line), so it was not hard for the uninformed passerby to assume that they were father and son. Had he been the same boy that stalked the halls with Lestrange, Macnair, and Dolohov, he would have manipulated the man into doing anything he wanted, using the Potioneer's weakness against him. Now, he was simply stunned that the man would admit such a personal thing, especially when Tom himself had admitted to being openly hostile to him.
He would make a good father at least, when the time came.
"Perhaps it's best then, to begin again." Tom finally said, breaking the moment of awkward silence that had come between them.
The messy haired man looked up and beamed, grey eyes smiling from behind large spectacles. The sheer happiness that seemed to emanate from the man caused Tom to quirk his lips upward as well, the jealousy slowly leaving him. As if on cue, Steve and Bucky chose this moment to unlock the door, and Tom's blue eyes picked up on the paper being torn from the door.
"You guys done?" asked Bucky with a cheeky grin, head swiveling between the two of them before nodding, "Good! Now we can go get drinks and rev ourselves up for the next raid!"
Steve and Potter readily agreed with the man, causing Tom to roll his eyes. Now that the situation was resolved, Potter informed them that he would save them a table at the Leaky Pot, and promptly jogged off to do just that. The three remaining men looked at each other, the silence that enveloped them a comfortable one, one that only a family-like closeness could forge.
"It's good to have you back, Tom." said Steve with a wide smile, patting the teen wizard on the back, an action quickly mirrored by Bucky.
They were always so forgiving of his actions, those two. Even when he was at fault, they would welcome him back. There was once a time when he thought that such emotions such as attachment and sentiment was a sign of weakness, but now he saw it for what they were - a sign of strength, for those who can forgive after being broken are the strongest of all.
With a small, genuine smile, Tom replied.
"It's good to be back."
As it does when one is placed in a hectic environment such as war, time flew by like a Golden Snitch. Before Tom knew it, the year's end was approaching, and everyone seemed to be all aflutter. Not for the New Years, no, but for his eighteenth birthday the day before it. Even Monty was ecstatic about the whole affair, which baffled Tom to no end.
The two wizards had gotten close after they decided to put their differences behind them and although the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry was still there, no real venom was ever in their words. Monty became quite the mentor, working alongside Tom to produce more runes, wards, and charms, and even added his own spells to the Shield of Loki. As the older wizard usually stayed in the laboratory, he made it one of his top priorities to fit Captain America and his Howling Commandos with the best magical protections possible. This had resulted in the Potter-and-Stark birthchild of a new form of underarmor made in part from dragonhide. The material was placed inside the uniforms much like the carbon polymer fabric had been, but the new armor reduced injuries in the field by half.
Tom had also been introduced to Monty's wife, Euphemia, who had immediately taken to him (for reasons that still baffled him). The woman seemed to fuss over him (more than the others) endlessly, and would tut at him if he ever came back injured (which was quite a few times) and dote upon him in a matronly manner. Many of the Commandos poked fun at him because of this, but for Tom, who had been left motherless hours after his birth and no one in his childhood to take her place, her actions were secretly appreciated. Euphemia (Feemie, dear, nobody calls me by my full name!) also would send care packages full of goods cooked by her house elves over to them (secretly, so that Colonel Philips couldn't yell at her for it) if their missions were particularly long and grueling.
Tom wondered, very briefly, if this was what having parents was like.
On December 31, 1944, Howard insisted on working alone in the lab, shooing a rather confused Tom away with a glare. Before the man behind Lord Voldemort could protest, Bucky and Steve dragged him off for a day in town. Tom had barely enough time to swipe his now trademark mask and helmet, as well as Jormungand from the pile of papers the asp was sleeping on before he was whisked away by the two enthusiastic soldiers.
"Where are we going?" asked the drowsy snake as he slithered into the hidden sleeve of his collar.
Tom was unceremoniously shoved into the black automobile owned by the SSR, which was used as one of the Commandos' modes of transport. Such a vehicle was only used when they were going into the city, so the young wizard surmised that wherever they were going, it was in London. Seeing as they only ever frequented one establishment in London, he could deduce where they were most likely headed.
"I'm not quite sure," was Tom's answer as he fixed the mask and military hat in place from where he was sitting in the backseat, "But I have a hunch."
To his surprise the answer was not the Leaky Pot like he had assumed, the car whizzing past the establishment that had quickly become the Howling Commandos' home base outside of the SSR. Steve and Bucky were visibly enjoying Tom's look of confusion, seen through their reflection in the rear view mirror. Confusion soon turned into alarm as a familiar grey building loomed in the distance. At the stricken expression on Tom's face, Steve and Bucky gave a wry smile.
"I don't understand. Why Wool's?" Tom asked, his voice not betraying the slight discomfort that he always felt when he was near the blasted orphanage.
Of all places to take him, why here? He had no happy memories of this place, only phantom pain and anger. The car halted in the parking lot in the back and all three men got out, the gravel that made up the ground crunching beneath their boots.
"You're a grown man now, Tom." the young wizard heard from the blond haired man behind him, "It's time to let go of the past. We're here because today, your birthday and incidentally the last day of the year, is the day for closure so you can find a new beginning."
Tom rolled his eyes at Steve waxing poetic again, but remained silent. With thin fingers the wizard took off the mask he usually wore. It didn't matter here, for no one ever came here.
He directed blue eyes upward, and noticed how the grayness of the dilapidated building melted with the rainy sky. It was just as depressing as it was when he had been here last, a fitting picture of greyscale, as if to say this was a place where no joy could be found.
"Ready to take a trip down memory lane?" Bucky's voice rang out among the silence, the sound of children inside the building muffled by the hard brick exterior.
Wool's had not always been an orphanage. It had been a factory of some sort (though for the life of him Tom couldn't remember what they had produced), so the walls were reinforced to prevent the loud noises of the machinery from escaping the building. When Edward Wool bought the building after the factory declared bankruptcy, the place was gutted from the inside whilst the outside remained the same. There were still some remnants of the old factory there, as he and the other children (not together, of course) used to collect the odd bits of machinery that had not been cleared. Even so, perhaps the place would have been better as an asylum than an orphanage.
"Already ahead of you." Tom muttered, causing the other two to laugh, their joy already bringing color into this lifeless place as he walked along the path that seemed so foreign now, after everything he had seen and experienced.
The lawn (as it always had) lacked any flowers or live plants, the ones planted there having died long ago from neglect. He remembered Mrs. Cole tasking the children to plant some potted flowers that were donated to them, back when he was small and didn't quite understand that he was a little different from everyone else. He had picked a quiet corner, a place all to himself, and lowered the plant (a child itself, all green and yet to flower) into the dirt with a nervous, innocent care that Tom most likely no longer possessed. Throughout the season all the children took care of their own personal plant, and in the springtime all the flowers were alive and in bloom. By winter, however, the children despaired as their petaled friends died in the cold.
Well, all but one. Tom had unconsciously used his magic to keep his fragile Forget Me Nots alive and blooming, painting it's lonely corner with color. Alas, such things were not to last. The flower was discovered by some older children and, in their jealousy, had stomped the poor blue flower into a wintery white grave. As the years passed, Tom had actively avoided that corner, afraid of the feeling of grief he would feel when he came across it, a feeling he would only pinpoint when Billy Stubbs would crush his grass snake, Nagini, in much the same manner.
At which point, Tom wondered as he reached the front door of the place he had grown up in, had I become so detached? So angry?
He tilted his face down, fixing his military hat upon his head. Could he still see the rag-clothed boy full of rage and coldness, face blank with tears that he wouldn't dare shed, if he looked in the mirror? A gloved fist was raised, knocking on the door automatically. Even from that day that he had last seen Stubbs, Tom had changed. Would he be recognized? The second the doorknob squeaked and turned, he changed his demeanor to that of the polite yet rigid soldier. The door then opened, revealing someone Tom knew he had to confront sooner or later.
Mrs. Cole, who was once a young woman with a no nonsense attitude, looked older and more haggard. She could only have been in her late thirties, as she and his mother had been close in age when she died in that very building, and yet her hair was already greying, and wrinkles were becoming pronounced on her face. How ironic, that her youth would be stolen by children. Hazel eyes registered his uniform, his rank, and the woman immediately straightened up, especially when she noted the other two soldiers behind him.
"How may I help you, Sergeants, Captain?" she asked, and Tom could sense the confusion in her professional tone.
That greeting at least answered his previous question. She, who had dealt with him for a good sixteen years, had not recognized him. In reply, Tom's fingers clasped the brim of his hat, bringing it down to his chest.
"Hello Mrs. Cole." he began, internally smirking as her eyes widened in recognition, "I am here for my things, now that I am of age. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have simply decided to accompany me."
A snort came from Bucky at the last statement, and Tom made a crude gesture with his hand behind his back at the American, causing the two to attempt to (and fail to) hide their laughter. Tom's lips twitched upwards briefly, something apparently noticed by the woman at the door. Mrs. Cole, for her part, stared at him as if he were a zoo animal.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." she murmured, her eyes darting to him, to his friends, and then back to him, "I can hardly recognize you. It seems the army has done well, cleaning you up." that part was said as she looked towards Bucky and Steve, "Come in, come in."
With a nod, Tom followed he woman back into the place that made up his childhood, his expression curious now that the caretaker's back was turned. He'd never quite seen Mrs. Cole's cordial side before, but perhaps this was because he was now an adult and not simply a ward anymore. Steve and Bucky followed closely behind, curiously peering everywhere.
"You grew up here?" whispered Bucky, who had jogged up to walk beside Tom on the wizard's left.
The inside of the place was much like it was when he had last seen it. The same peeling paint and moldy walls, the same sound of screeching children in sorrow and play. Tom schooled his face to be blank as he walked past familiar hallways, memories flooding his mind and flitting away as swiftly as they came. The things that had been done to him, the sins that he had committed behind these walls.
"Think you'll miss the place?" added Steve, coming up on his right.
Killing Billy Stubbs' rabbit in retaliation for him crushing Nagini. Traumatizing Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop for picking on him in the schoolyard. That time he had simply planted a haunting idea in their minds weeks before, priming them and hinting that Hell would be coming for them, before taking them to a cave and calling a hoard of snakes to slither all over their screaming forms. He had made worms burst from ripe apples, weeds wrap their roots around fleeing boots, and wardrobes close on children while they searched for something inside (and only open when Mrs. Cole or another caretaker opened it for them).
"I don't think I will, no." Tom whispered lowly, walking past the other ward rooms, remembering the children that once occupied them and every terrible thing he had done to them.
To be honest, he was a rather horrible child, taking pleasure in the pain of others after being hurt one too many times (the things one could do to you if they thought you were devil spawn) by both fellow orphans and staff. However, the pain that he had endured in comparison to the pain he caused in later years was quite superficial (or perhaps not, he winced as he remembered the feel of cold water filling his lungs, the booming voice of the priest). Growing up in a loveless home had raised a loveless child, and the slights cast upon him would be magnified tenfold each year he grew.
"Well then, better say your goodbyes." said Bucky, slapping Tom on the back and causing a couple children running past to stop and stare at the American.
But that had abruptly changed with the arrival of these idiots, who had taught him that he didn't have to lie and cheat in order to get somewhere in life. Soon enough they reached the end of the hallway, Mrs. Cole stopping at the last door on the left. The sheer familiarity caused Tom to step forward and open the door himself, pushing it swiftly so that the hinges wouldn't squeak. What was revealed was a room much smaller than the others, only containing a single bed, a small wardrobe and desk. A worn trunk lay at the foot of his bed, warded to the nines as it held all of his worldly belongings (or at least the belongings he didn't put in his mokeskin pouch before the unexpected trip to Austria). A whistling sound came from behind, curtesy of Bucky as the two muggle soldiers shuffled awkwardly into the room after him.
"What is this, solitary confinement?" Steve asked incredulously, causing both Mrs. Cole and Tom to make a noise that was almost a snort at the same time, before the two stared at one another curiously.
Both of them knew that his room at the end of the hall used to be a storage closet, but was repurposed once Tom had trapped his roommate in the wardrobe (not that they could ever be quite sure that it was him). It was a unanimous decision (as Tom couldn't stand any of his roommates) that the independent toddler be given a room of his own, away from the other children so that they wouldn't incur his wrath.
"Not too far off, actually." the wizard drawled out, causing the two soldiers to roll their eyes.
Thin fingers closed around the handle of the trunk, the wards registering his magic as their owner and not shocking him with a stinging hex (if he was a muggle) or a Crucio-like curse (if he were an enemy wizard). A sigh escaped his lips. This was certainly closure, the end of a horrible part of his life, one that had almost put him on the path of lies and fear mongering and blood purity. Now, perhaps, he would one day have to pay for all the sins that he had committed.
"I suppose it's time to go now." Tom said lowly, for once allowing his friends to hear the weight of his feelings in his voice.
Signing out of Wool's Orphanage was a quiet, but not somber, affair. He was surprised that all the forms were prepared before he realized that Mrs. Cole had probably been planning on this day since the year he went to Hogwarts. It took only a couple of hours for the entire process to be completed, but by the end of it Tom felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He was free from these walls, from this horrid place that had caused so much pain (and that he had caused pain in). With his trunk in hand he strode back towards the black automobile that brought him here, Mrs. Cole wishing him luck with the rest of his life, and commented on his newfound army discipline. Those words of good will became slightly false as the pitch of her voice heightened upon seeing Jormungand, who had slithered out of his collar sleepily (and had caused the woman to shriek; she had never liked his serpentine friends).
The ride home was far less quiet than the trip out, as both Steve and Bucky each tried to guess what Tom kept inside his school trunk. Tom eventually rolled his eyes and explained to them slowly what a school trunk was, and both men groaned in disappointment when they heard it was simply full of textbooks, stationary, and homework.
By the time the car rolled into the street that held the entrance to the SSR, the sun was reaching the tops of the building, signaling the cusp of late afternoon and evening. Not that it mattered, most of the country would be staying up for New Years anyway, and the streets were already lined with festivities. In the bustle of the crowd no one noticed as three men slipped through the throng of people just to enter an old antique shop. Walking through the hallways, Tom noticed that the place seemed to be less busy than usual, and threw suspicious glances at the two soldiers who were trying their best to look innocent (but failing).
Sighing, Tom shrunk his trunk and placed it in his mokeskin pouch. He might as well get this over with. Steady footsteps brought him to the door of the break room, which he noted was dark and quiet. Tom could practically feel the anticipation emanating from Steve and Bucky behind him and paused, causing the two soldiers to groan and step in front of him, throwing their arms around his shoulders as they did so. With a synchronized push, the doors opened, and Tom was assaulted with light, color, and noise.
"Surprise!" came the voice of many as they burst from behind the table, "Happy Birthday, Tom!"
A bright flash lit up in his face as the wizard schooled his face into a blank look (which he hoped had happened before the camera shutter). When the light spots stopped dancing in his eyes, it was revealed that the culprit with the camera was none other than a cheekily grinning Howard Stark.
Tom looked out at the crowd gathered for him. There was, of course, Steve and Bucky (the gits), who wore matching goofy grins on their faces. The rest of the Howling Comnandos were also gathered, popping the caps of beer bottles and letting the liquid flow out in some sort of rite (that he was sure the Gryffindors back at Hogwarts did whenever they won a Quidditch game). Unsurprisingly, both Howard and Peggy had also joined in on the fun, coming over and giving him a brief hug (Stark) and a hand on the shoulder (Carter).
However, it wasn't just muggles that had decided to show up. Smiling at all the festivities was Monty and Euphemia, dressed rather expertly in casual muggle clothing. 'Feemie' was laughing at something the young Ravnclaw graduate, Nobby Leach, had said. The bartender must have gotten another to cover his shift at the Leaky Pot, and considering how this was to be one of the busiest nights, it couldn't have been easy.
All of them were standing around the break table, which had been covered with a green cloth; not that one could see it under all the food piled atop it. A cake stood in the middle of it all, eighteen candles arranged in a circle inside the green icing rim, the flames flickering with all the bustling around it. The cake was moved to the area in front of the chair that was generally reserved for Captain America, and it was Steve who pulled out the chair and looked at Tom meaningfully. Rolling his eyes, Tom dutifully and elegantly sat in the chair, the thought of such a throne briefly passing through his mind as he did so. The thought was quickly replaced by the sight of all of the people who gathered around behind him, causing Tom to stare at them in confusion before his eyes registered the camera mounted on a stand in front of him.
The only thing Tom's body could come up with in reply was a single eyebrow raising. Steve and Bucky threw their arms around the genuinely surprised young wizard as Howard messed with his hair, pressing a button in his hand that had a wire connecting it to the camera. It took all of Tom's self discipline not to blink or wince at the bright flash that followed, though he was much better prepared for this one and allowed himself a small, real smile.
With a toast of tankards of both magical and muggle beverages, the party began. Food disappeared rapidly into the stomachs of soldiers, Dum Dum being the main culprit. As usual, Bucky's ears shot out steam as the firewhisky took effect, making everyone laugh aloud. Soon packages wrapped in old newspaper were placed in front of him, and Tom had stared at them blankly until Howard had made a comment about 'Oliver Twist not getting gifts a lot' before he got the hint. Carefully he unwrapped each present, smirking at the groans of his friends as he did so.
From Peggy (and the SSR) he got his own revolver with the words Avada Kedavra engraved on the barrel. Quirking an eyebrow to the Agent she simply gave him a smirk.
"If you ever lose your wand, I'm sure this simple firearm will be able to protect you until you find yourself another." was her only reply, "And since it's primary use is to kill, I thought the engraving fitting."
From Leach (who was trying not to laugh through the opening process) was a rubber snake. And no, it wasn't enchanted or anything special, just a little rubber snake that looked much like Jormungand. Tom responded to this gift by chucking it at the howling bartender.
The Commandos (sans Bucky and Tom himself) had pitched in to buy him a silver pocket watch. Morita had explained that it was because:
"Out of all the crazy things you Wizards know how to do, telling time isn't one of them."
Incidentally, the back of the watch had the word Tempus, the Latin word for time, engraved on it.
Coming along the same vein, he would find, was Bucky, who had gifted him a lighter with the spell name Fiendfyre etched on it. Bucky raised his hands in surrender at the mock look of betrayal on Tom's face before bursting out laughing.
"What?" he argued, "I thought I was being smart and funny! Didn't know everyone and their brother got the same idea!"
Trepidatiously he opened Howard's gift, and gave him a curious stare.
"I thought you needed an upgrade."
The modified black gas mask that was attributed to Lord Voldemort now had glowing blue veins running up and down the canisters. The eyepieces were larger, and there seemed to be some device hidden right above the mouthpiece.
"Those little guys project a distortion," Howard explained, "Should help hide that voice of yours. Unlike Cap here, I know you prefer to stick to the shadows."
A noise of disagreement came from Steve's direction, but the scientist paid it no heed. Shrugging off the inventor's jab, the blond supersoldier walked up to Tom and handed him a rolled up piece of paper wrapped with a string. Unfurling the paper revealed a detailed sketch of Tom in uniform (sans the mask) standing between Steve and Bucky. Unlike most photographs, the drawing depicted all three of them with arms slung around their shoulders and viably laughing hard. When the others tried to get a look at the sketch, Tom rolled it back up again, placed it carefully into his mokeskin pouch, and gave Steve a pointed look.
"Nobody outside is to see this." he said in a low, dangerous tone.
Steve smiled, having already gotten used to the young wizard's quirks, and took it for the compliment it was.
Lastly came the Potters, who held a box wrapped in a red and gold paper (damned Gryffindors) up to him. For some reason, they looked a little nervous. Quirking and eyebrow at them, Tom carefully unwrapped the gift. When his brain finally caught up to what his eyes were seeing, both eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Are you... sure about this?" was all he could whisper as his fingers felt the fabric.
For, in the box, was undoubtedly Potter's Invisibility Cloak, the Cloak Of Ignotus. With wide blue eyes Tom took in the sight of such a powerful artifact lying innocently in the box before directing those eyes at the Potter couple. A sigh escaped from Monty, a little proud, a little sad. Two hands placed themselves on his shoulders.
"You must understand, then, what this Cloak is." Monty began, "Yes, the Potter tradition is to pass this on to my eldest son. But I have no sons, nor daughters, and not for a lack of trying. The closest I've ever come to having a son is you, Tom. And with the way you put yourself into constant danger for our sakes, I find it fitting that you should be the one to inherit it."
Tom was silent, standing still as he tried to process the man's words. Yes, they had been close these past few months, but surely not enough to be given such an artifact...
"Thank you." were his quiet words, clutching the second Deathly Hallow as of to prove to himself that it was there, that it was his, and soon he was engulfed in a hug from the middle aged couple.
With such color and joy around him, Tom couldn't help but think of the grey and sadness of the place he had only been to hours before. Perhaps Steve was right. Today marked a new day for him, and such a vibrant new beginning it was.
AN:
Oni: That's all for now, folks!
Bucky: Don't forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review!
Oni: And I'll see you next time (whenever that may be), My Pretties!