A/N: I tried to update Rebuilt but after writing one sentence all that came out was this. Oops. See that's what happens if I try to work on stories simultaneously.

Uhm apparently I never warned you about any pairings? In case that wasn't clear this story will focus on the relationship between Harry and Tom, however, from allies to lovers to vicious enemies I don't know what that dynamic is exactly.

Also to anyone who enjoys seeing them on equal grounds: At the beginning Riddle is holding all the advantages, sorry. Harry will claw his way up don't you worry, but for now...poor thing.

Enjoy :)

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Deal with the Devil

Harry was positively fuming by the time he stormed out of the library.

It had been a while since he'd been so angry at himself. Tom Marvolo fucking Riddle had caught him completely off guard. While Harry had had no chance to know who he was, there was no excuse for just assuming he'd be harmless.

But honestly, what kind of host spent the night of his own party reading a book? Lord Riddle was supposed to be at the centre of everyone's attention, just like he was at the centre of the town's gossip mill and high society alike.

Instead he spent his time talking to a lowborn circus member. What the hell was that man on about? Harry should have been kicked out from the moment they first met. Riddle must have known what he was as soon as he saw him, after all he would have known who he had and had not invited.

Having him in his colours - that obnoxious, arrogant, smug piece of..!

Nobles sponsoring artists was nothing new of course.

Painters, musicians, singers, actors, poets… They were the tame little side projects of the bored aristocrats. The nobles didn't have the skill to entertain themselves, but they had the money to pay for the lives of those who did.

It really wasn't too bad a position to be in. Most of them got their money from the noble and could do what they wanted with his or her time. Many travelled, the colours of their clothes matching the noble's family crest. Representing them while performing their craft, spreading joy throughout the country in their name.

Having a whole circus under their name was a bit unusual, but not unheard of.

Their circus had never actively sought such a sponsorship. They had always just been a random assortment of people, trying to make a living. While they had some very talented artists, a lot of the other members would have to leave because the noble would only pick those whose skills they liked. Their circus was a family, not a company.

Nevertheless, a noble offering to take them on would solve all their monetary problems and could usually be perceived as a compliment. But the way Riddle had said it made Harry want to gag.

It was only his well-trained self-control that got him through the rest of the night.

It might have also helped that wherever Riddle had disappeared to, he was nowhere in sight downstairs and never once appeared during his gala.

What Lucius actually wanted to see was anyone's guess, but the evening passed in much the same light as it had begun. Some encounters were boring, others had him grit his teeth, a few actually amused him.

He also got to meet Narcissa Malfoy. A woman that was cold in all the places her husband was flamboyant, and warm in all the places he was cruel.

Even though she was quieter than Lucius, she still obviously shared his love and skill for socializing. Seeing them work together made it clear to Harry how the name Malfoy was constantly gaining in prestige.

How the pair had befriended Severus Snape was beyond Harry.

At the end of the evening Harry was convinced the sullen man hadn't exchanged a single word with anyone, not even with Lucius. His eyes however, seemed to observe everyone and his ears following every conversation.

Despite his rapt attention, he showed absolutely no desire to talk with anyone. Harry wondered if he was truly not interested, or if he furtively stored away thousands of secrets in silence.

What an odd man.

Almost as curious as a host that didn't attend his own gala. Weirder still, how none of the guests seemed to expect his presence.

At the end of the night Lucius appeared pleased, but otherwise the reason for his 'experiment' seemed mostly forgotten.

When the lord dropped a purse in Harry's hand he didn't bother to count the contents. Judging from the weight alone it was safe to assume it was more than they made in three nights.

Adding in the sum Harry would obtain from selling the expensive clothes…well. Money did soothe many wounds. Harry had to admit that even Riddle's arrogance wasn't enough to outweigh his gain.

He was already going over all the things they could finally buy and mend with the additional money, when he made it back to the circus.

The sight of it however, changed his mood drastically once again.

It was well past the late hours, the morning sun only about an hour away. By all accounts the circus should appear deserted, everyone getting their well-earned rest.

Instead, the torches were lit and many members still mingled in the open space between the tent and the trailers.

He briefly wondered if he'd forgotten about an important celebration, but discarded the thought immediately.

There was no music, which was very odd for the circus. The people who were up and about mostly stood in small groups or sat on the stairs in front of their trailers. Dejected.

Something awful and dark woke in his stomach. A nameless terror he fought to keep down, his mind frantically trying to stay sensible.

It wasn't like someone was lying dead on the ground. Nothing was disturbed, everything still intact. There was no reason to assume…anything at all really.

And yet.

The small voice in his head, forced down to a whisper over the past years, came back full-force as if it had never left.

Tik tok, Harry Potter. Did you really think you could just hide and stay happy forever?

His vision narrowed, blackness creeping along its edges and for a short moment Harry thought he might faint.

Hermione flung her arms around him, snapping Harry out of the darkness and back to the circus, back home.

"Oh Harry, thank gods you're here!"

No accusation, no question where he'd been, just that she was glad he was here now. He still felt undeserving to have found such friends.

Harry steadied himself as she slowly let go of him, her face resolute but with shimmering eyes, precariously close to tears.

He gulped, trying to force his voice to cooperate. "What happened?"

Everything inside of him was focused on the task to keep himself from screaming blindly at her.

Is it my fault? Hermione tell me, is it my fault?...again.

"We- we were just getting ready for the show, everything was normal. We gathered quite the crowd as well! And then the collectors came and-…"

"Collectors?" Harry echoed confused. "Collecting what?"

"Money obviously. They-…"

"You mean we were robbed?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No, Harry listen, we are in debt."

He looked at her, almost expecting her to lie but she was about the last person on earth who would lie in a situation like this.

"Since when?" he asked.

"From what Arthur told us this circus was living off a loan for almost a decade now."

"What?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Did you know?"

"No, why do you think everyone is so shocked?" Hermione gestured to the people standing around gloomily. "Only Arthur and Molly knew. It's their business, they are managing everything and the finances especially. They were slowly paying it back you know? Keeping the collectors happy. But now they increased the interest or got impatient or something, I didn't really get that. Anyways, the Weasleys owe them money big time."

"How much? If we all-…"

She interrupted him with another shake of hear head, her untamed hair following the brisk motion. "Harry don't you think we've gone through every possibility already?"

"How much Hermione?" he asked again, reaching into his clothes for the pouch Lucius has given him. "I have three or four nights worth right here I-…"

"What? Where did you..?" she began perplexed, then apparently decided to drop it. "It doesn't matter, it's not enough. It would be almost a year's worth, if we wouldn't have any expenses at all."

"Then we just leave," Harry said hurriedly. "Like we do when we overstay our welcome and people get unfriendly. We just pack our things and-…"

"Oh Harry," Hermione hiccupped, tears beginning to flow silently down her cheeks. "They have Ron."

"What?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"They already beat up Arthur and Bill pretty bad. We had to hold back Charlie and the twins or they would have gotten hurt as well. And when they left they just…dragged Ron with them. They said if we can't pay them when they come back tomorrow they'll…they'll…" Hermione trailed off.

She didn't have to finish. No one would care about law and justice if the victim was a mere circus artist.

"So what…What do we do? There must be something we can do!" Harry looked at her almost beseechingly. The circus was everything to him, something that finally offered a life for him.

"Sell them the circus," Hermione shrugged dejectedly. "We will all have lost our livelihood come tomorrow."

"And go where?"

"Split up. Hope for the best."

Just another lowborn beggar on the street, trying to avoid the gallows when stealing a loaf of bread. Harry would be okay, somehow. He'd had it worse. But the Weasleys, a whole family… Hermione, a dirt poor orphan girl. At least she was smart. What about Luna, constantly dreaming? Neville?

"Hope for the best?" he echoed speechlessly. "Hermione…"

She resolutely wiped away her tears. "I'll be fine. Girls always find a way to earn money."

"Hermione!"

"I'll try everything else first of course," she said matter-of-factly. "All I'm saying is it's just a body when it comes down to it."

He looked at her aghast, his stomach revolting at the very idea of imagining her in that life.

"Stop looking at me like that Harry Evans! If you need to worry, do it for the Weasleys. They won't find work to feed a whole family. They'll be torn apart and…and Neville, gods. Someone like him will die on the streets within a week!"

Harry clenched his fists, his jaw tense, resolute. "No."

"No?" Hermione repeated distraught. "Well, he can always get lucky-…"

"No, I mean…" he took a deep breath, his nerves finally settling, calm resolution taking their place. "I won't accept it."

She scowled at him furiously. "You think I want to accept it?!"

"You won't have to. I'll do something," he said with finality.

"Do what? Harry you can't save everyone and this isn't your fault. You aren't responsible for us."

"You are the only family I'll ever have and-…"

"And we worry about you!" she interrupted him insistently. "You can't just risk your life for us and go- go rob the whole highborn quarter or something."

He chuckled softly at her reaction. "I wasn't planning anything illegal."

She frowned. "No other money lender will deal with us while we're in debt, Molly already tried."

"It's not a money lender. It will be freely given and permanent."

He stated it evenly and tried to make it sound reasonable. It seemed to have the opposite effect, for now she definitely looked suspicious.

"In exchange for what?"

He surveyed the circus around them, their big tent and the dozens of trailers, the people mingling not far from them. And if he had to take the goddamn sun out of the sky and sell it to save them, he would.

He turned back around to where he came from. "That will be my problem."

"No, Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm, holding him back. Something in his expression must have shown her that his mind was set, for she slowly withdrew. "At least…at least tell me what it will cost you. I won't be able to live with myself if, if…"

"Just my pride Hermione," he said hollowly. "And we all know it's the only thing we have left."

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"Mr Evans," Lord Riddle greeted him as the servant showed Harry into the library. "Why am I not surprised?"

The sun had already been up when Harry had made it back to the gates of Riddle manor. Now it shone brightly outside, yet the library offered few possibilities for the light to enter. The big room only had a few windows that weren't completely blocked by shelves, keeping the library in the same half-light as the lamps did during the night.

"Yes, why aren't you surprised?" Harry shot back through clenched teeth.

Riddle - once again focused on a book in his lap - looked up in faint amusement at his vicious comment.

"You will find that hardly anything surprises me."

"You have my deepest apologies for your dull life, milord."

"Ah," the lord said meaningfully, closing the book carefully and gently placed it back into the shelf beside his chair. The care he showed for the simple action stood in stark contrast to his volatile outburst from yesterday.

"But imagine the undiluted excitement I feel, if per chance something does surprise me."

Harry bit his tongue and remained quiet while Riddle stood up fluently and walked a few steps over to the only bigger table in the room. He leaned on the no doubt priceless old wooden desk casually, facing Harry.

A cane leaned beside him, an almost obligatory accessory for someone of his standing. Most noble men treated theirs like beloved pets. Riddle took his carelessly and absentmindedly started to twirl it around.

Similar to his refusal to wear the bright flashy colours that were currently in fashion and his reluctance to host parties, Riddle seemed utterly dismissive of the status symbol.

"I take it the collectors have become impatient already?" the lord asked after a while, when it became clear that Harry would stay silent.

Someone like him shouldn't even have known there was a circus in town, let alone anything about their debt.

"You knew and yet you just talked to me like-…" Harry broke off before he could say something he would regret and clenched his fists instead.

He had sworn to himself to keep his composure. No matter how much the noble vexed him. No matter how degrading his demands would be. Harry would give him everything and more if it would save them.

"Before you draw all the wrong conclusion from the little information you have," Riddle said silkily, "I had neither anything to do with your current predicament, nor was I aware of your circus' debt until recently. It was only brought to my attention because last week a son killed his father to take over his business. It caused quite the stir, but was eventually left alone because they were lowborn money lenders. I imagine their, ah, business strategy has changed a bit since then."

The lord seemed content to let him ponder on the story for a while, obviously waiting for Harry to speak up first.

Eventually, Harry took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and willed himself to do what he came to do. "Does your offer still stand?"

Riddle stopped playing with the cane, tilting his head curiously. "Is that how you ask something from someone of higher standing than you?"

"I make it a point not to ask anything of anyone," Harry said bitterly. He was failing horribly at that.

Riddle hummed thoughtfully. "You want a favour little one? Come here."

Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to unclench his fists again, but he forced himself to approach the lord. He held his chin up and his eyes defiantly refused to break contact with the noble's.

They stood about one arm's length apart, Riddle still leaning on the table behind him, but even so he towered over Harry.

Riddle chuckled. "So much pride."

His cane flicked up to brush against Harry's cheekbones. Harry supressed a wince at the cold touch of the metal. He also quenched his urge to grab the thing and bash it against the lord's head. It would be rather counterproductive to what he was trying to achieve.

"I shall gladly teach you some basic manners. For example, on such a particular occasion," Riddle continued, the cane suddenly coming down onto Harry's shoulder, a bit of pressure pushing it down. "One kneels."

It was nothing he hadn't expected.

He kept his face carefully blank, refusing to show any reaction that would have betrayed how much it affected him.

It was usually much easier than this. To pretend, to play along. But there was something about Riddle that stripped the layers of his fake submission away, making it all too real.

He gracefully went to his knees, the cane nudging him further until he was bowing low, almost touching the floor. Then it retreated and Harry almost wished it hadn't. Now there was nothing he could use for his own pretence. He kneeled on his own free will and he hated every second of it.

"There you go." The lord's satisfied voice was almost a whisper.

Harry was concentrating on not throwing up. "I ask of you-…"

The lord tsked harshly and Harry had to breathe in several times to calm himself.

Sadistic bastard.

"I beg of you," he said unemotionally, certain that he could feel the lord's smirk on his back from above. "Please consider giving us financial support."

The cane came back, this time under his chin, lifting his head up until Riddle could scrutinize his face without having to lean down.

"Such pretty words for something that can be said much simpler."

He wanted him to repeat his own words back to him. Of course. Aristocratic piece of shit.

He kept his voice steady and even. "Please consider buying us."

Riddle discarded the cane on the table, leaving Harry to do what he wanted with his head. He kept it up, even though his neck was straining from the weird position.

"I have zero interest in that little group of misfits of yours. Only you. Are you worth a whole circus, Harry?"

The use of his first name sounded strangely enough more sincere than Riddle calling him mister.

The question however, brought him up short momentarily.

"I am acutely aware of my place in this world milord, to be honest I assumed you didn't think it worth your while talking to me yesterday."

After all, no other noble would talk to someone like Harry if there were better alternatives around.

"Mr Evans," Riddle smirked, switching names again. "I assure you if you weren't worth my time you would have never set foot into my manor, let alone my personal library."

Harry frowned, not knowing how to take that statement. "What do you want me to say? Because as you undoubtedly realized, I am desperate enough to say it."

Riddle sighed, almost disappointed. It confirmed his hypothesis that the lord was bored by compliance.

"I merely want us to be very clear what I'm buying."

Harry could feel an angry flush spreading on his cheeks. He was trying not to snarl at him, but probably did a bit anyways, because the corner of the lord's mouth tugged upwards.

"You're hardly the first one who's trying," he spat acidly.

Though he would be the first to succeed.

"Look at you, trembling on your knees," Riddle mocked.

Harry clenched his fists until his nails dug into his skin and ripped it open.

This was for his friends. This was for Hermione and Ginny, who would have no other choice than to turn to whoring. This was for Ron who would probably do something incredibly stupid and get himself killed. This was for Arthur and Molly, who had taken him in without questions and did not deserve to see their family starve on the streets.

He couldn't put the happiness of his friends, his family, above his own damn pride.

His fists relaxed. His expression cleared into a blank mask.

"Do you plan to spend all that money so you can taunt me or will you actually do something?"

Riddle chuckled, his eyes shining bright from amusement.

"As tempting as your 'I'll do anything' attitude is…" he leaned down closely, a spidery finger ghosting over his bottom lip, daring him to react. "Because it is very tempting…" He straightened again. "Believe it or not, what I require of you are in fact your skills."

Harry looked at him sceptically. "As a circus acrobat?"

"You're fast, incredibly light on your feet, agile. Graceful as well, fluid like a shadow. Quick witted and a born actor."

He quirked an eyebrow when Harry remained silent. "That's usually the part where people are flattered."

"You told me nothing I don't know already." Harry bit the inside of his cheeks as soon as he said it, cursing his fast tongue.

He had lost count of how many times he had already slipped in Riddle's presence. And still he was no closer to figuring out why his usual aloofness failed him when it came to the lord.

Riddle thankfully only seemed to find humour in his arrogant declaration.

"Make no mistake," the lord continued. "I do want your body in a way. I want you to be my tool, my weapon, nothing but a vessel of my will."

A chill ran down Harry's spine. A puppet.

"Tell me Harry, to save your little circus, can you kill?"

He couldn't stop the horror from entering his eyes.

No.

He'd been through that.

Never again.

Riddle must have seen the answer on his face. "Yes, I thought not."

Harry managed to breathe again.

"Can you steal at least?"

"What for?"

The backhand came out of nowhere, whipping Harry's head around and leaving him slightly dazed.

With a stinging cheek, Harry tried to analyse his last question, deciding that it hadn't been particularly bold at all, certainly not compared to other things he'd said before.

He couldn't remember ever meeting someone so unpredictable.

"That is not for you to know." Riddle's voice was ice cold.

"Yes," Harry gritted out, turning his head back into an upright position.

"Yes what?"

"Yes I can steal for you," Harry said calmly, while his eyes glared at him openly.

"And?"

"Yes it is not my place to question why."

Just because he wasn't allowed to voice his questions didn't mean they would go away. His head was filling up with possible reasons why Riddle with all his money wanted to steal things, and why he asked him of all people to do the job.

He didn't like the answers his mind conjured up.

He would know the real one soon enough, of that Harry was certain. Riddle might appear omniscient at first glance, but Harry had a way of getting what he wanted as well.

"You will have to be flawless," Riddle continued, placated for now. "If anyone even so much as catches a glimpse of your moving shadow you will have to kill them."

He could handle that. He would have to be exceedingly careful, but it lay in his own hands at least. No one would die, because whatever Riddle had in store for him, Harry would succeed.

"No one will see me," Harry vowed to himself, saying it aloud for Riddle's benefit.

"Shall we draw up a contract then?"

The lord reached behind himself and picked up pen and paper from the desk.

Harry's expression darkened. He had already shown so much weakness today, his stomach lurched at the idea of confessing another one. Especially since Riddle for once didn't seem to know.

"I insist to do it verbally," he said, drawing Riddle's curious gaze immediately back to himself. Harry pursed his lips in displeasure. "I can't read or write."

The lord seemed genuinely surprised. He felt the thousands of books surrounding them silently judging him.

"What, you think they teach lowborns nowadays? We wouldn't even be allowed inside a school if we payed double."

If you were really lucky you were born with parents that could teach you at home. The secrets of language and numbers passed down like a family heirloom, securing better jobs for their children.

If he had really set his mind to it Harry could have probably learnt it somehow. But you didn't need maths to perform in a circus and you certainly didn't have time to appreciate fancy books.

"No of course not," Riddle amended. "I just assumed…and I was wrong."

He sounded both thoughtful and delighted at his own error.

"Well, that simply won't do," he continued. "It's highly inconvenient for certain…things…you'll need to procure. I will teach you."

The last thing Harry wanted was to receive lessons from this particular lord.

"Surely someone else would have more time-"

Once again Riddle's movements were almost too fast to register, but this time Harry knew what to expect from the blur.

Half of his face was prickling unpleasantly from the sting of Riddle's force, but Harry had refused to let his head be moved again, even though it would have averted some of the pain.

Instead he raised it a fraction higher, glaring at Riddle haughtily.

"Head down boy, or I use my cane on your skull the next time," the lord's voice was dangerously low.

Harry forced himself to break eye-contact.

"I will teach you," Riddle repeated. "And you will be grateful for every letter."

"Yes milord," Harry said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm completely.

"In the case of a verbal contract we will need a third party, but this should be nothing more but a formality."

He rang a bell and a servant peeked into the room. Upon a signal from Riddle the servant nodded deferentially and left quickly.

"You have met Severus have you not?" Riddle asked.

At the thought of someone else, someone he had met, seeing him in this position caused Harry to bolt up partially before remembering he had sworn to himself to remain obedient.

The lord tutted amused. "Heel boy."

Harry snapped. With a snarl he sprung up, his body twisting to attack, his fist already flying in the direction of the lord's face before he was even realizing what he was doing.

He was well trained and especially proud of his reflexes, but Riddle was faster still.

The sharp, pointed end of an ornamented letter opener was placed with learnt precision under his chin, freezing his assault just inches from Riddle's nose. Harry didn't dare to move, his fist still raised.

"My," Riddle chuckled. "And here I was wondering where all that fire went. Never think that I don't appreciate your fierce pride, little one."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You have an odd way of showing it."

"That tongue of yours though, will need to be restrained," Riddle tsked. "If you still want to ask me your favour, stay. down."

Harry warily took a few steps back and sunk down to his knees.

"Just out of curiosity," Riddle said casually. "Would it help if I praise you?"

Harry's head snapped up, several vicious responses on the tip of his tongue.

The lord smirked. "I thought so."

Smug bastard.

"I have watched you yesterday," Riddle said after a while. "You bowed frequently and did so with ease. Yes sirs, milords and other honorifics fall easily from your tongue, even in the face of blatant disrespect. They could have spilled their wine and told you to lick it from the floor and I half believe you would have done it, still not giving them the satisfaction of letting it bother you."

So the lord had been at the gala after all, even though no one could see him.

"And yet here you are, trembling in disgust at the mere idea of kneeling in front of me," Riddle continued amused. "Why is that, Mr Evans?"

Harry didn't respond, partially because he wasn't sure himself, partially because he didn't want Riddle to know that he was an exception.

"You seem used to extravagance," the lord stated, his eyes hungrily waiting for Harry to give him any sort of reaction that would confirm or deny his claims. He would find none.

"A lowborn that wants to be lowborn, but refuses to kneel. You're a puzzle and did I mention I like surprises? From the moment I saw you…" Riddle's voice was practically a purr now. "So many fascinating contradictions."

"You seem to know a great deal about me," Harry said wryly.

Riddle smirked in self-satisfaction. "I have eyes everywhere."

"I assume you had a chat with Malfoy."

"Lucius has many uses, though regarding information I like it to be a bit more objective and ordered. Lucius is good at spotting a pretty stone. Severus sees hundreds ways to use it. They work well together."

Harry didn't need to ask for whom they were working, the answer was clear. Highborns and lesser nobles working for someone more powerful was common place, but lords such as Malfoy or Snape?

"Work on what?" he asked instead.

They were interrupted by the sound of the library door opening.

Snape entered, looking exactly like he had yesterday and with the same blank look on his face. He didn't falter when he saw Harry there, even though he couldn't have expected him.

"We will still need to write it down of course," Riddle addressed Harry, neither him nor Snape had greeted each other. "But it will be done by the witness."

He handed pen and paper over to Snape, who took the things mutely. If he was confused by any of this he didn't show it.

"Mr Evans and I are about to enter a patron-protégé contract," Riddle went on and Snape started writing. "I want it to be clear that the contract is only between us two, but that it includes every member of the circus. I will settle every current debt the circus is in and continue to cover all costs that will befall them in the future. If Mr Evans here should fail to honour our agreement or step out of place, I will have the whole group stripped of their possessions and exiled."

Riddle surprised Harry by crouching down himself, so their faces were on the same level.

"The punishment to get caught is death. The punishment no to get caught, but arrive empty handed to me, is also death. And once you are dead our arrangement won't hold up."

"I'll be perfect."

Riddle scrutinized him attentively. "Interesting choice of words."

Snape finished writing and handed the paper back. Riddle started to heat up a lump of wax over a candle and Snape left as silently as he had come, not once looking directly down at Harry.

"You can write your own name I hope?" the lord asked evenly.

He had finished pressing his seal onto the document and held out the pen to him. Harry took it as an invitation to finally stand up.

He took the pen and scrawled his name awkwardly at the bottom of the page. Next to Riddle's elegant signature and Snape's neat letters it looked atrocious.

Riddle folded the paper delicately, putting it into an envelope of equally rich quality and sealed it with another blob of wax.

"Am I going to regret this?"

"Yes," Harry said immediately, every ounce of stored vehemence and conviction feeding the single word.

Riddle looked pleased.

He handed him the finished contract and only smiled thinly when Harry snatched it rudely.

Harry turned around abruptly and walked briskly towards the exit, clutching the envelope tightly.

He wanted to tear the paper apart that bound him to Lord Riddle and at the same time knew it to be foolish. He had come here out of his own volition and asked for it.

"By the way my colours are green and silver. They will look especially good on you."

Harry scoffed. "Are you sure black wouldn't suit your soul more?"

"Oh absolutely," the lord smirked. "Alas it is tradition to use the colours of the family crest. If you want to wear the colours of my soul we can arrange that in other ways, Harry."

Harry shut the door behind him with unnecessary force.

At least the circus would be saved and his friends spared. It was worth it.

It had to be.

.

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A/N: Dear Mr Riddle, I cannot wait for Harry to get some dirt on you.

Soooo. As I mentioned before this story will be put a bit aside for the time being (no honestly, I mean it this time). I am not abandoning it, but I need to A) figure out where the hell it's going to go B) find some time to write it.

There might be occasional updates when it comes back to haunt me, otherwise expect it to continue once one of my other stories is finished (and pray to the gods I don't start another one (honestly, pls help me)).

See you around :)