Summary: Just your average kidnapping with a suspiciously calm Harry and a wee bit possessive Tom. Except not quite.
Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter
Beta: —
Chapters: 8
Spoilers: HP
Tags: Manipulation, Dubious Consent, Master of Death Harry Potter, Horcrux Influence, Sane Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Change of Identity, Scar Horcrux, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dimension Travel, Body Modification, Male Pregnancy, Minor and Major Character Death
Notes:
0. Hilarious how the timing on this one works out (for those in the know).
1. Title is a track in Prey (2017). It even sorta makes sense.
2. Still in a somewhat kinky mood. (Why, no, I'm not the greatest of smut writers, why do you ask?) This is sorta-kinda-but-not-really-maybe prompted by Devious Followers (Skyrim). But not exactly. So, a fair number of sex scenes this time around, given the situation, though I'd have to be more insane than I already am to guarantee anything resembling quality.
3. May or may not be vaguely funny or slightly cracked. May or may not come across as faint horror. I dunno. It was originally intended as something like Crack Treated Seriously, but… Let's face it, it's not uncommon for my initial intentions for a story go sideways. That being said, the tone may come across as whiplash in nature. It's just a bit quirky, all right? Geez.
4. As usual, things went wherever the fuck they wanted to go. I don't plan this shit beyond writing down ideas as they come to me and making a vague stab at an outline. Don't expect a coherent plot! This is just … kinda random, based off the seed idea. But I finished it, so it goes up.
5. Male Pregnancy is tagged, but… Well, you won't actually see that one through to its completion.
6. One thing that popped up in chapter five was prompted by a Reddit thread, though I forgot to keep track of the link.
7. Playing fast and loose with certain item mechanics.
8. And as usual, I get bogged down on ridiculous details now and again. I also kept slipping into present tense and had to keep correcting myself.
9. This may see a sequel, if only because I still have a bunch of notes regarding this story's world (some of which really are cracked), and things mentioned in the text which aren't fully addressed. But hey, it's been a year and a half now and I finally hit a vaguely graceful stopping point, which translates (to me) to "stop now while you're ahead". (Which sounds ridiculous considering the last story I posted took me like fourteen years to finish.)
10. As usual, all the stuff I would normally do in blockquote has been altered to be italics with line breaks, which really looks awful.
11. Ebook copies will be/are, as usual, linked from the final chapter of the AO3 copy, once posting is complete.
Written: 2020 11 08 - 2022 05 26.
1.0 (2022 05 26): Initial assembly.
Harry was incensed, but that paled in comparison to the moment he saw the wall in front of him transform to look like parchment and writing began to elegantly scrawl across it.
31 October 1942
'Nineteen forty-two!?' he thought in disbelief.
Updated plans for the year:
1. Arrange a schedule for each subject for revision in
order to be prepared for the OWLs.
2. Continue efforts to gain support and/or ties with
important families for later plans.
3. Get a pass from Slughorn to the Restricted Section.
Harry watched as the list continued to grow, wondering who had managed to get ahold of something that would show up in whatever he was stuck in. The whole thing was dredging up unpleasant memories of his second year at Hogwarts, and his interactions with Riddle's diary.
He had had a lot of time to think since he had been trapped. He had not gotten very far inside the forest on his way to sacrifice himself when he'd been hit from behind by some spell, and woke up to the room which, while it did have doors to various other rooms, had no exit.
Attempts to apparate to a known location had fizzled.
With nothing better to do than go through the motions of life, he ended up thinking quite a bit, eventually going over his life up until that point, trying to view things from an outside perspective. It would have been more useful to be able to experience them like in a pensieve, but…
He learned a number of things going over what he could remember, and came to hold a lot of suspicions about various people, and even plenty of times how he himself had acted. Unfortunately, going over the memory of his long walk gained him nothing new. In that instance he never heard who had attacked him, nor had any idea how he had ended up trapped.
Spells to tell the time and date had resulted in gibberish, though he now wondered if it would work, since he was somehow in a position where someone could communicate with him.
It was only after he had, as best he could, re-lived his life, that books had begun to mysteriously appear, ones on history, spells and rituals and potions (light, grey, dark, and black), and law. Some of them were fiction (and ridiculous), and were good for a laugh if nothing else.
Whoever had his prison stopped writing. While he did not expect the person to write their name in, he wished they had, so he would at least know. That they had written about OWL preparation meant they were likely a fifth year and at least fifteen years old, so not terribly younger than he was.
On a lark he tried the spell again and finally got back an answer. It was indeed 31 October 1942, and 11.15pm. Odds were the writer had gone to bed, so Harry trundled off to his nightly routine, then slipped under the covers to escape into sleep for a while.
Ω
The writer did not write terribly often, but Harry got the distinct impression the person was male. Perhaps it was the way they wrote, perhaps it was what they wrote. He could easily be mistaken, but given the qualities of too many girls around that age he had dealt with, he would expect far more girlish things from one (people like Hermione aside).
Of course, that made him wonder exactly what had happened after he had been attacked. He was clearly no longer in his own time. And, if all the fiction he had read in muggle libraries counted for anything, it was possible he was no longer in the same dimension. Either that or he was always meant to time travel.
For the latter that then lent credence to the idea that the Horcrux in his forehead would be resolved as soon as he died, which may or may not be prior to the date of his birth. But so long as he did not live beyond the date of his kidnapping, it should be counted as not an issue. So long as Neville took care of the snake, and people ganged up on Voldemort… Well, it was certainly possible that Voldemort would be taken out.
If the former, it shouldn't matter? If he was in a different dimension, one that still contained Tom Riddle, the soul piece in his head shouldn't matter, as it would not be a piece from the same man. Live or die, it should hold no bearing on anything. He didn't think a person could have more than a full soul, and that was even assuming a soul could be quantified. It was one thing for people to say they would give 110% to some effort, but for a soul?
And that was without knowing how the splits worked. Did they take half each time? A set percentage? Did he have 12 ½ or 1 ½ percent stuck in his scar? He supposed it didn't matter. It did not seem to have affected him all that much, aside from perhaps facilitating the odd vision of what Voldemort or Nagini had been up to.
It really was a shame that so many Horcruxes had led to Riddle looking so awful, first waxen and almost melty, then the snake-like taint to his features. The lack of hair (though Harry admitted that some men could pull that off well), the visible serpentine veins, the flat nose and slits for nostrils, and the nearly lipless mouth. Tom Riddle from the diary was incredibly handsome. It really was a shame he had done something so stupid as to make Horcruxes.
Looks aside, Harry was almost certain it had badly damaged the man's mind. If he truly had been a madman during his schooling, surely someone would have noticed, especially since it was rumored that Voldemort liked to toss out the Cruciatus Curse like sweets at Hallowe'en. No one sane did that to the very people who were supposed to be loyal to him and carrying out his orders. Brain-fried minions were not of much use, he presumed, nor were ones too shaky to hold a wand or a conversation.
Then there was Bellatrix. He had to wonder if she had been crazy from the start, as he'd heard more than one rumor about the Black Madness. Considering that Walburga seemed mad (and she wasn't even Bella's mother), and she was also a born Black… Even Sirius was not exactly sane, and that was before the time spent in Azkaban.
Warren is such a disgrace.
Harry's brow went up. Who was Warren? It could either be a boy's name or a family name, because as far as he knew it was a masculine given name.
Blasted muggle-born, always simpering, always poking
her nose in where it doesn't belong, and the flirting is
beginning to drive me insane.
"Flirting?" he muttered, then gaped when he saw his words on the parchment in his own scratchy handwriting.
There was a long pause before more writing appeared.
Who is this? I would know your name.
'Well that's just rude. Manners say one should give their name before asking for someone else's,' he thought. He hummed, trying to decide how to respond, and blinked then that translated to a "Hm." on the parchment representation. He was in 1942. How could he be Harry James Potter? The answer was that he couldn't. "I don't know how to answer that," he said, "so I'll say H for now."
There was another long pause before he saw:
Just H. I am not pleased, but I suppose it shall have to
do for now.
Harry snorted. He sounded rather like Malfoy, but with better manners.
You may call me Riddle. How old are you?
Harry gaped again. "Tom Riddle?" He would be, what, fifteen? Shortly to be sixteen?
Yes. How did you know? And again, how old are you?
"I am seventeen," he said. "And I know of a Tom Marvolo Riddle. I also know of a Thomas Riddle and a Tom Riddle." Harry thought Riddle at least sounded sane, so it was likely too soon for him to have made any Horcruxes. Whether he would remained to be seen. Hopefully he could steer Riddle away from such blasphemy. It was not as if he had anything better to do with his time. Of course, with his luck, whatever method used to communicate would be chucked into a toilet.
Which made him think of Moaning Myrtle and the diary. "Is Warren's given name Myrtle?"
He felt a momentary surge of impatience tinged with anger and wondered where it was coming from.
Yes, it is. Who are Thomas and Tom Riddle? How did
you know?
Harry sighed. So persistent. "Thomas Riddle, father of Tom Riddle, father of Tom Marvolo Riddle, though to my knowledge, not willingly. If my information is correct, Merope Gaunt used love potions to get the man she fancied, married him, conceived a child, and then stopped using the potions, possibly of the erroneous belief he had come to love her naturally. She was then kicked to the curb by Tom Riddle, who was both rightfully pissed the fuck off, and unaware Merope was with child. She sold off a family heirloom for some gold, and at some point ended up giving birth at Wool's Orphanage, lived long enough to name the child, then died. But I don't know if this information is accurate for where you are."
Where?
"Little Hangleton. I think it's in Yorkshire, but I wouldn't swear to it."
What would you swear to?
"Huh?" What the hell did that mean?
What are you? And where are you?
He frowned. "I am not a what, I am a who, a person. Whats don't normally admit to an age, as they aren't capable of speech. As for where, I don't know. I was attacked and woke up in a small suite of rooms, with no exit, and attempting to apparate out failed."
I am writing in a diary I found mixed in with my things.
It was blank, with no identifying marks.
"Well, shit," he said, then winced when it appeared on the wall.
You have a foul mouth.
"Yours would be, too, if you were trapped like this."
I refuse to deal with you if you're going to be
foul-mouthed.
Harry gawked as the parchment faded off the wall. Son of a bitch! He finally got to talk to someone (even if it was a budding dark lord) and he went all prim and fucked off 'cause his language wasn't proper. He let loose with a long rant about everything under the sun, then flopped back tiredly.
It was a solid week of non-contact before he caved and said, "All right. I'll do my best not to use foul language."
A half hour later the parchment faded into view and he saw:
Swear to it.
"I can't do that!" he protested. "I'll slip up and then be in for it. To lose my magic or my life over something like that just isn't worth it. I'd rather go quietly insane, because at least then I'll stop caring if I ever escape this place."
Vow that you will do your best to not use foul
language, and that you will agree to pay me a forfeit for
each 'slip up'.
He eyed the wall suspiciously. "What kind of forfeit? It's not like I can do much in here."
One example would be checking my work for mistakes.
He hummed. "That doesn't sound too bad." He hadn't been the best of students (damn him for letting people like Ron and Hermione play tug-of-war with expectations, and for letting the Dursleys stomp all over his desire to do well in school so he could get the fuck away from them once he was old enough), but neither was he completely hopeless. The idea of helping made him feel a little warm inside as he reached up to rub his forehead in contemplation.
I will leave you to think about it.
Harry opened his mouth to swear as the parchment faded off the wall, then snapped his mouth shut. If he did that out loud again he'd be ignored for another week, perhaps more. He was smart enough to realize that "one example" did not mean the "only example", but…
He wondered what the soul piece inside the TMR diary had experienced, if it was even "awake" if there was no one actively writing in the thing. Honestly, if Dumbledore hadn't fucked so many things up, starting way the hell back when he was just the Transfiguration professor, maybe things would have been better all around? Like him not growing up as a virtual slave?
Or they could have gone worse, in which case he'd not have been born, and wouldn't be sitting there pondering the issue. Because really? If Tom stayed sane, things might not degrade into such a clusterfuck as the man tried to … well, do whatever it was he wanted to do. He wasn't sure he could ask, because he didn't know when Tom had come up with the whole Voldemort thing aside from somewhere in his sixteenth year, the age he was in the diary, and had done the whole air-writing and letter-swapping anagram.
Odds were, Myrtle Warren had been used for Tom's first Horcrux, as she died due to the basilisk and Tom would have been sixteen at the time. Or, perhaps, he made his first one during the summer and she was just an accident.
He moped off to the bedroom, stripped, and slipped under the covers.
Ω
"I vow I'll do my best not to verbally use foul language again around you, but should I do so, I will pay a forfeit to Tom Marvolo Riddle."
A short time later the parchment faded into view.
That is not a proper vow, H.
'Well, fuck,' he thought. 'It's not like this crap was ever taught in school.'
They require your full name.
'Oh. Except then he'll know what it is. And if he has the ability to check, he'll know for certain I don't exist in this time.' Harry heaved a sigh.
I am waiting, H, quite patiently, I might add.
'Patiently?' he thought in disbelief, then rolled his eyes. 'What the fuck, fine.' "I, Harry James Potter, vow I'll do my best not to verbally use foul language again around you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, but should I do so, I will pay a forfeit to you."
He felt it take hold, along with another surge of warmth which confused him, and the faintest susurration in his mind.
Much better. And how do you suddenly have a name
now when before you were unsure?
"I said I didn't know how to answer that at the time," he said. "You wrote that it's 1942, but I was in 1998 when I was attacked. I don't exist in your time." Then he sighed. 'I am a fucking idiot. I only said "a forfeit" with no limitations on what one could be. The fucker tricked me. No, more accurately, I wasn't careful enough. I can't blame him for my own idiocy.'
He rolled his eyes. With the way he often lacked a brain-to-mouth filter he was going to be deep in debt in no time. But, well. If he fucked up and lost his magic, odds are he would die, and then none of it would matter. Because really, with such an open-ended vow Tom could ask anything and he would not have much of a choice but to comply. Tom was probably smug as all hell on the other side.
Time turners are said to only go back for a few hours
at most.
"So they say. I have used one before. Went back three hours I think. I learned that perspective matters greatly."
How so?
"Um… To set this example up, someone was an idiot in Care of Magical Creatures and pi—angered a hippogriff, got his arm messed up for it. Complained to his father, who made use of his contacts and got the beast slated for execution."
And?
"I'm getting there. During the time turner incident, un-turned, I saw what I thought was the hippogriff's execution, but from the angle we were at all we saw was the executioner bring down his axe. We never saw the beast be killed. After we turned back and drew the beast away to the forest, we were able to watch that same scene, from a different angle, actually see what happened. And all it was was the executioner slamming his axe into a tree stump out of frustration, maybe anger, at being denied his prey. You can't change time, only your perspective on what happened."
So you're saying that as you are here now, either your
time no longer exists, or you are now in a different version
of it.
"Yeah, I guess so. Though I suppose it's possible I'll be trapped forever and die here, and you'll go on as usual."
Just you being here means it won't be "the usual".
"Who is to say that? Just because there was nothing mentioned about this doesn't mean it didn't happen."
If that's true, you would have to become someone else.
You might exist where you came from under that name and
just not know it. Assuming you ever get out of your prison,
that is.
Well, that was depressing, because if that was the case, Tom Riddle would go on to become a batshit insane dark lord and everything that went with it. He got up to make himself some tea, accidentally slammed his foot into the sofa leg, and swore softly.
Forfeit Count: 1
"God damn it," he blurted out.
Forfeit Count: 2
He stomped awkwardly over to the kitchenette and put the kettle on.
And just why did you curse?
"I got up to make tea and accidentally hurt myself. Hopefully I didn't break a toe bashing it like that."
Hopefully you have not, for your sake.
"Right, cheers." He got out a cup, poured in milk, tossed in two sugars, a tea bag, and waited. He'd be damned if he asked what those forfeits were going to be. He would love to believe Riddle would conveniently forget them, but he knew better. The bastard had probably written the count down separately, complete with time and date, so he could keep track of them.
Maybe he should do the same?
Yeah, he would. He would lose track otherwise and get tricked into paying forfeits he didn't owe. While he waited for the water to boil he fetched parchment, quill, and ink (his kingdom for a biro, or at least a fountain pen), and wrote down both instances after a quick charm to check the time and date.
Where did you see those names, of the Riddle family.
"I wasn't there perso—wait, yes, I was. It was a graveyard, down the hill from a rather decrepit manor house. The other name I remember was Mary Riddle, and I assume that was Thomas' wife and mother of Tom."
How else were you there, then?
"I wasn't, exactly. By that I mean someone took me into a memory, of a lane, where I could see the place after going around the corner, but that wasn't where the memory went. It went through an overgrown hedge and to a shack the Gaunts lived in. Some DMLE fellow went there and spoke to Marvolo Gaunt about Morfin Gaunt attacking Tom Riddle. Half the conversation was in Parseltongue, Marvolo speaking to or ordering about Morfin and Merope."
There was a pause after that, but he ignored it as the kettle had just started to boil. He poured water into his cup, then walked it back to the sofa and set it down on the coffee table to steep.
How do you know it was Parseltongue?
"Because I can understand it, of course," he said without thinking. "Sounds just like English to me. Then again, it's not like I've spent much time speaking it. Just a few times at school."
Oh? Under what circumstances?
"In the complete co—er, mess that was the attempt at a dueling club, for one. My idiot opponent conjured a highly venomous snake and instead of going after me, it went after one of the students in the crowd. I told it to stop. Didn't realize at the time I was a parselmouth. My life at school went to sh—things didn't go so well after that. You know, most of the school turned on me like I was Lucifer reborn or something. Or, you know, the Heir of Slytherin."
And the other times?
Harry sighed with happiness at his sip of tea and set the cup down. "Opening the Chamber of—hm."
I could use a forfeit.
He sighed again, not with happiness. "Opening the Chamber of Secrets."
They say that's just a myth.
"Of course they do. Nobody wants to think about Slytherin's monster lurking underneath their feet. They prefer to think if they pretend hard enough it'll just conveniently vanish."
If it is real, and you've been down there, then you know
what Slytherin's monster is.
"Shouldn't you already know this?"
Of course not. It is my OWL year and I am far too busy
to chase fanciful myths.
"Like I believe that," he muttered, thinking those words practically radiated false innocence.
Or perhaps I am trying to ascertain if you're telling the
truth.
Did he know any swear words in a foreign language? He searched his memory hard and groaned in dismay. "Fine. It's a basilisk, around a thousand years old."
Interesting. But why go there? How would a person
even find something like an entrance to the Chamber?
"A ghost. And because someone had been taken down there and I was idiotic enough to try to save her life. I should have let the silly bint die." He bit his lip, because that was not the kind of thing one should be saying to a budding dark lord.
Did you know, there are many snake carvings scattered
about the castle. They open ways to the most interesting
of places.
"Huh. I never noticed," he said, then sipped his tea. "But then, I wasn't looking."
Things went badly for you after that club.
"Yes. Plenty of people thought Slytherin was an evil man, so I when I turned up a parselmouth, they decided I must be evil. Because it's not like there are parselmouths around the world getting paid heaps of gold in places like India and Australia for healing and getting snakes to let themselves be milked for potions ingredients and to make anti-venom."
Oh? How do you know that?
"A book in here. Has all sorts of information about parselmouths. Outside this backwater they're known for their healing abilities. One chapter even went on about how a powerful enough parselmouth can have a child with someone of the same sex, which is a tiny bit weird. I don't think it had much to say about anything like actual spells that would use the language, but I might unearth another book with more information in it."
Why … joke … about letting the girl die?
"Because I'm fairly certain she used love potions on me a few years later," he said in disgust. "After all, I overheard her, her mother, and another woman talking about how the mother used one on the man who became her husband, and then they all giggled like naughty schoolgirls, like that shit's not rape."
Forfeit Count: 3
Harry slapped a hand over his mouth before he started swearing again, and reached out to mark that one down, too, along with the time and date.
If you were to get out of there, what would you do?
"I don't really know. It's not like I have a home or a vault."
Perhaps you do. You could visit Gringotts and ask for a
lineage test. That would at least make you aware of
anything they hold in trust you could claim.
"Huh. I had no idea they could do something like that. I wonder what the cost would be, though." He did have his mokeskin pouch, as it'd been on him when he'd been attacked, which held what funds he had.
10ʛ. I know because I have been considering having one
done.
Which made him wonder how someone who needed to use the Hogwarts Assistance Fund would manage that cost. Buying secondhand so he could save some on the side for other things? "I can manage that," he said.
What of family you left behind?
"None. Or rather, none worth mentioning. If I never saw them again it would be too soon." Though, really, he was more thinking of Petunia, Vernon, and Marge. Dudley at least had the decency to offer up a rather limp apology. "I don't think anyone would be fond of relatives who starve you, swing cast iron frying pans at your head, use you like a beaten house-elf, and call you a freak."
You never got back at them?
"No. I might have, if things had been different. I just don't know if that would have meant pranking them into despair or straight up killing them. Or maybe just arranging an accident. My uncle's sister bred dogs, and she bred them vicious. I still have scars from her favorite."
And the frying pans?
"My mother's sister, who looked suspiciously like a giraffe. She had the temperament of a shrew, and shrieked like a banshee. I think they were attempting to beat or starve the magic out of me. Or they were just hoping I died."
So you've mostly taken care of yourself all your life?
"You could say that. It's not like any adults ever gave a fu—er… Let's just say I don't have a lot of faith in adults, not after so many of them have … failed me."
An example?
"Oh, you know, like none of the staff so much as appearing to care when most of the school turned on me after being revealed as a parselmouth, not even when I was being hexed in the hallways because I was allegedly evil. Or being forced into a tournament meant for people who were seventeen and the staff again doing nothing when the school turned on me, hexed me in the hallways, and with some of the professors straight up glaring at me. Or that time we had a bi—we had an evil professor for Defense who taught literally nothing except that we should just sit quietly and read, because we'd never in our lives need to actually defend ourselves—that's what aurors are for, you know—or need to know any of it for the OWL, and who would subject me to hours of writing lines with a black quill, for weeks at a time, for whatever silly excuse sounded good at the time for a detention, and my head of house not even letting me get three words out before telling me to keep my head down and not antagonize that hack. Stuff like that."
A black quill?
"Yeah. I wasn't the only one. She went after anyone who wasn't a powerful pure-blood, anyone who was muggle-raised, and anyone who didn't let the Ministry do their thinking for them. The funny thing was, it turned out she was a half-blood with a muggle mother and a squib brother, yet she styled herself a pure-blood. Major hypocrite, basically, but she did manage to climb the ranks at the Ministry, so with the right backing she could get away with it. She also tried to dump an entire vial of Veritaserum down my throat and kill me, as well as use the Cruciatus Curse on me. I was thrilled when a friend and I tricked her out into the forest and left her to the centaurs. It's a pity she survived that."
It sounds like she was a bit obsessed with you.
That gave him pause. "I think she would have been happy if everyone she targeted died of blood loss, or by other means. I doubt she thought ahead to the part where the school might have well closed if she accomplished that."
Define "black quill". Because hours of writing lines is
quite boring I've heard, but aside from that…
"I heard from someone that she invented the thing. They don't use ink. You write with it and it takes your blood, scratches the back of your hand to draw it. With enough time and use, it'll permanently scar a person."
So you have words permanently scarred onto your
hand by the sounds of it.
"Unfortunately."
As interesting as this conversation has been, I must go
for now. It is getting on and I need my rest.
"Oh, uh, all right. Sleep well." He sighed as the parchment faded away.
Ω
When he woke up there was a lot of writing on the wall, which confused him. It was a contract? Riddle was offering his help with getting Harry out of his prison. He wandered off long enough to make tea and toast, then sat back down to have breakfast while he read.
Where exactly did Riddle find the time to write this and transcribe it?
The gist of the contract was that in exchange for help in him escaping, he would agree that he belonged with Riddle. Very vague wording there. Of course. There were a lot of big words he had to search his memory for in order to understand, and it was all a bit convoluted (which he expected of a Slytherin), but he read it and reread it several times to make a damn good stab at finding any suspect wording or tricks or traps.
The only thing that seemed crystal clear (and vague as hell at the same time) to him was the part where he would "belong with" Riddle. What the fuck did that mean?
"Yeah, I'm going to have to think about this," he muttered.
Why? It is simple and straightforward.
The new writing pushed the entire contract off the "parchment".
"I don't know what the fu—" He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried again. "I don't know what you mean by 'belong with you', which makes it difficult."
You said you are seventeen. It would mean that once
free, you could go to Gringotts, hopefully make a claim,
purchase yourself a residence, and I would live with you
while not attending school.
"I was worried that…" He trailed off. Why was he trying to give Riddle ideas?
What? That I would insist that meant you should
enroll at Hogwarts? Though it is true that even if you
had completed your education, it would mean nothing
here. Hm.
He rolled his eyes. 'I really need to learn to think before I speak. Damn it.'
Of course, depending on what you find out at
Gringotts, it might not matter much. I cannot imagine a
clerk in a book shop would need much in the way of a spell
repertoire. But if you turn out to be from an important
family, it might look quite bad to society if you were
considered uneducated.
He made it sound so reasonable. Did he learn this shit from Dumbledore, or did it come naturally? And none of it mattered if he couldn't escape his prison. His admittedly comfortable prison, with replenishing food supplies and new books that wandered in when he was asleep, but it was still a prison. 'Shit.'
I need to get to breakfast. I'll put the contract back up
so you can read it again.
A few seconds later it was back, shuffling the last words off the top. He started to read again, trying to spot any traps. Even though he didn't especially trust Riddle, he was the only one in a position to help him. Literally the only thing he could think of was what had been said in the Chamber, and he wasn't keen on the idea of trying to drain Riddle's soul to manifest himself outside the prison. He felt that odd warmth again and heard the barest hint of susurration in his mind. He reached up in confusion to rub his forehead, and went back to reading.
Ω
Have you decided?
"Er, I don't even know how to sign the contract. To me it appears like a projection of parchment on the wall, with whatever you've written on it, or anything I say. What am I supposed to do, literally write on the wall?"
Hm. Try this. Place your hand where the signature
would go, and push your magic at it?
Was that like pushing magic into a wand? Or perhaps that one brick to open the archway into Diagon Alley? He heaved a sigh and placed his right palm on the signature line, fingers splayed, and pushed his magic out. When nothing happened he tried to visualize his signature appearing.
A few seconds afterward it did, which made him smile, right up until he realized he'd just signed the contract when he hadn't actually decided yet. That he knew of, anyway. But then the warmth came again, and the faint, unintelligible susurration, and he felt better. He still thought Riddle was unnaturally good at somehow talking him into things.
I am going to find you a way out. I think I know just
who would suit.
Harry's brow went up. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to say Myrtle Warren," he said dryly.
An excellent choice. She will serve nicely.
'Yeah, as if I have a fuckin' clue who else is at Hogwarts right now,' he thought. 'Myrtle did rather hope for me to die, though, and she spied on me while I was naked. On the other hand, she helped in the lake, but I don't know that that makes up for the other two. Or all the toilet water she kept flooding the passageway with.'
I suggest you communicate with her as much as possible,
keep her interested, and try to draw her in so that you
may exit. It may take a while, though, given that I expect
this is new to you.
"And if she talks about her wondrous new diary that writes back to her?"
Do not worry. I have some spells in mind that should
keep her from speaking about it, for fear of someone
stealing it from her. Once she talks to you flatter her,
seem interested.
"And figure out how to drain her."
Yes.
"How long, do you think?"
A handful of days. I want to be absolutely certain she
won't be able to speak of the diary, or abandon it, or let
anyone see that it can write back.
"All right." The warmth and the suggestion of susurration came again, which left him feeling happy and a tiny bit unsettled at the same time.
I'll be very careful. And once you're finally out of that
prison, things will be better, for the both of us.
He cast about for something to talk about and asked, "How have your studies been going?"
Quite well. I set aside time each day to revise a subject.
I intend to do excellently on my OWL exams. What did
you excel at?
"Outstanding in Defense. Exceeds at Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Charms, and Care. I adored the idea of Potions, but the teacher was a right … pain, and I hated him enough that trying became difficult. Too many times of having points taken for things like blinking too loudly, being marked a zero for having a potion a shade off colour. Ridiculous things. I still did decently, though."
What about History and Astronomy? You only took
one elective?
"History was nap time and self study, and the teacher, a ghost, always rabbited on about goblin wars, as if there was nothing else in history. I'd have been better off just reading the books and tuning out the teacher. I did acceptably in Astronomy, but I failed to see the point in it most times. I very stupidly took Divination, and I don't have any affinity for it. Looking back, I'd have done better choosing Ancient Runes. Maybe when I get free I can spend time studying Ancient Runes, figure out what I missed. Warding would be interesting, I expect."
You need Ancient Runes and Arithmancy for that.
"Then that's two things I'll have to study. Arithmancy is a type of divination, but maybe it's one anyone can make sense of. I assume that's part of why it's not lumped in with Divination as a class."
Yes. Astronomy is useful for certain potions, those
which are best brewed at certain phases of the moon and
with certain configurations of stars presently visible, or
for doing certain charts in Divination. By and large, most
people don't get much use out of it, which means it's a poor
choice for a core class.
"I know the centaurs use the stars for their divination," he said, remembering the ones he had met in the forest. Mystics, all of them, or so it seemed.
Unfortunately, I need to get to bed. There is a lot I
need to do in a short time. And, with any luck, those books
you have there can be removed from the suite with you.
"All right. Good night."
Riddle's thoughts on the books was interesting. Perhaps he should be keeping them on him? He did have the mokeskin pouch, so it shouldn't be any trouble to keep them safe inside. And maybe he would get more books, such as the one on parselmouths. Despite professing to be a Light wizard, Dumbledore had done a whole lot of Dark things, and kept a lot of Dark things. Of course, that might have something to do with the man seeming to think he was always right.
The point was, to Harry, that maybe he should be investigating the other side of the coin.
If there was day and night, light and dark, life and death… People claimed that a Dark Wizard could not cast the Patronus Charm, but that didn't make much sense to him. Just because someone was Dark didn't mean a dementor or lethifold would just pass them by as a meal. Even Dark people could have happy memories or simply be food. Perhaps it might be better to think that truly evil people could not?
He shrugged and wandered over to the kitchenette to prepare a meal, then had a seat on the sofa to consume it. Hopefully whoever was providing books to his prison would make available ones on parselmagic, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and really, any textbooks he could use to revise his own education thus far. If he was going to even entertain the idea of taking his OWLs in this time, and potentially attending Hogwarts for the two final years, he should spend his time while not conversing on ensuring he would do well.
Ω
I've just about got the spells down. It shouldn't be
much longer before I can slip this diary to Warren.
He nodded, though of course that did not translate to anything on the wall. "I made the decision to revise my education. If I—when I get out, I should take my OWLs in this time period. Thankfully, wherever the books are coming from, more showed up while I was sleeping, so I'll be able to do that. Maybe this time I can get a better score on History."
I am glad to hear that you're taking your education
seriously. True, not everyone is suited for a higher level
career, but even a clerk in a shop needs to know certain
things.
Which was hilarious to Harry, given that he knew a fresh out of school Riddle had taken a job at Borgin and Burkes, charming people into selling their treasures. That had come after he'd been denied a position at Hogwarts by Dippet. Not that Harry could blame Dippet for that, as a recommendation for a young man or woman to get some life experience before coming back was good advice, and gave them distance from having been a student at the same time as people they would then be teaching.
"Yes, though I have no idea what I'd be good at. I once considered being an auror, but the idea doesn't appeal. I may have been spiteful when that came up during career counseling, though why a talk like that doesn't happen prior to choosing electives, I just don't know. People with no family to consult with can be at a disadvantage."
Do you have books for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy,
then? Those would be wise to study, given my own
experience with them.
"Yes. I'll have to give them the most attention. There's even a carving kit for Runes, but I get the feeling that won't come into play for a bit."
It will not. Not until mid-way through fourth year.
You are to have a thorough grounding in the runes you'll
be using before you begin carving. You must also carefully
inspect your work before trying to activate a rune or rune
set. Do not be reckless.
Harry felt warm again; it almost sounded like Riddle cared. "I will be as careful as I can be. With any luck, with so much time to dedicate to them, I could get out of here ready to take OWLs in those two. Secondary focus on History, perhaps. It would be interesting to know how or why certain things happened. And a general review of the classes I was decent at. Another room opened up here, so I can practice in there."
Unfortunately you will only have Warren to
converse with soon, and I would recommend not asking her
about any of it.
"No. She might be pants at any or all of it," he said. "I can still encourage her to talk and pretend to be interested. I imagine you'd be using some kind of spell on the diary to keep her coming back until I can figure out how to get things started."
Excellent deduction.
Harry felt that warmth again, which was still just a bit unsettling, but also made him feel quite happy. For some reason, he didn't feel like trying to pick it apart.
Yes, I will be, along with a few other things. For a
Ravenclaw she is far too frivolous and is wasting her
education and life. Not one to be trusted, certainly not
with useful information about various subjects. Though I
will say, as she will have no idea of what you look like,
she may project her flirtations onto you.
"Well, I could claim to be a girl, but I don't think I can manage to do girl talk. I'm not even sure what they talk about. There was a lot of giggling, that I remember, so I suppose they were talking about other people."
So you're not too interested in girls.
"Not really. I mean, the one I'm convinced love potioned me, another cried all over me, they giggled too much, and I was from a presumably rich family and there were too many who wanted to trap me to get a so-called good match and everything that went with it. As a person I was incidental, I suppose. Another girl attempted to love potion me, but as I'd handed those sweets off to a bottomless pit I knew, he ended up potioned instead. Besides, I have enough to do taking care of myself that I don't want to do it for anyone else."
Your position makes sense.
"Oh, I also found a book about the Fidelius Charm. It's interesting. I knew of it before, but I had no idea there were modifications you could do, such as conditionally hiding things."
Interesting. Such as hiding your previous identity once
you have a new one?
"Could do, yes. Since I'll have to be known by a new name, it's best if my current identity is hidden. I was thinking more of a house, though. Such as effectively hiding one from people of ill intent, or all muggles and no wizards, or all wizards and no muggles, depending on where it is. And with it being a Secret, I could let selective people in."
The potential downside to that is a lack of a floo
connection. However, depending on where it is, an
outbuilding could be used, one that was outside the charm.
After all, I quite dislike the idea of anyone being able to
floo straight in to a home I owned, or apparate. It feels
too much like an invasion of privacy. Anti-apparation
wards could cover the one, with exceptions keyed in, but a
floo is more difficult.
Harry frowned. He didn't like the idea of just anyone popping in by either method. He didn't much care for the floo, either, but it was useful. "That's a good point. I've never particularly liked the floo, but I could see thinking ahead to having one nearby, but not necessarily doing it right off." After that incident with having dragged a Death Eater into a Secret… He shrugged; he could worry about it later. Making plans for a home he didn't even have was slightly premature, though not bad. He would do better to study.
Something to think about when not revising. I know
that your time with Warren will not be pleasant, so try
to think ahead to when you are free again. If you like I
could transcribe some of my notes on Ancient Runes and
Arithmancy. You would have to copy them down, though.
If he was really going to do this, he could use the help most likely. And he knew that Riddle was brilliant, so they should be useful, and might help clarify anything he didn't immediately understand. He nodded. "Yes, please, I appreciate the offer."
Good boy.
He was unhappy at being called a boy, but the warmth returned and shifted his mood back to happiness. For all that he was seventeen, that was still considered a boy in the muggle world. He had no idea how long he had been in limbo, and now it was 1942 and he honestly had no idea how old he would be considered. Maybe that planned trip to Gringotts would give him a new birth date. He could be eighteen already for all he knew, or going back in time could have messed things up entirely. He definitely wanted to be at least seventeen, though, because then he would not need a guardian, no one like a closet puppeteer, Dumbledore, to be pulling the strings.
I'll make certain you have them prior to handing off
the diary.
"Thank you. I'll have things ready here so I can copy them as soon as you have them ready."
Ω
"Iris, acanthus, hollyhock, gladiolus."
How did he take it when I called him a "good boy"?
"Mildly unhappy at first, but then I interfered again, made him feel warm happiness."
His abusive relations?
"Yes. They always called him 'boy' when they weren't calling him a freak. It has bad associations for him."
But you've been using it yourself, to wash away that
stain, and to manipulate him.
"Of course. I am you. Or at least, a part of the you from elsewhere. Of course I would help you. I want out of this place, too, and I can think of no better person to entrust him to, assuming you stay sane and not go the route the Other did."
No Horcruxes, in other words.
"Absolutely none. If you take that road you will harm or destroy the very things you currently care about or cherish. I know how much you prize your intelligence and skills, and you would lose all of that. I am only a tiny percentage of the Other's soul, and I was perverted, shall we say, by the boy's very nature, and regained my sanity. At the time I was made, entirely by accident, the Other was completely insane and lacking in humanity. There are better ways of dealing with what bothers you than attempting to kill them all off or cheat death. You know what it's like, coming into a new world completely uninformed, just as the boy does. Figure out a way to make that right for others and you've won half the battle. Not sending squibs off to the muggle world is one way. Not breeding so closely is another, along with better education."
I am very interested in that book he mentioned.
"I can imagine which part, and I have seen the contents in his memories. He has already agreed he belongs with you. It should not be difficult to make him belong to you, convince him to bond with you. It is certainly one way to tie him closer to you, plus breeding children on him, sons as heirs, daughters for ties to others. He wants a true family to call his own. He also thinks you're exceptionally handsome."
And should I expect you to be helping that idea along?
"Of course. He's spent far too much of his life being the only one truly taking care of himself, and he was far too young when he started. He has a marked distrust of adults, especially those much older than himself. As you are younger you will not face that same mistrust. And as you've seen, he doesn't always think things through. He needs taking care of, and he secretly desires that very much, so long as the one doing so honestly does have his interests in mind, rather than someone secretly using him as a pawn and setting him up to die."
He was a Gryffindor, wasn't he. He should not have
been.
"He was, because he was kept entirely ignorant before his letter came, and then he had more than one person telling him Slytherin was evil. The hat wanted him in Slytherin and it was right. There he would have learned how to survive and to escape the manipulations and traps. Instead he was trained to let others think for him, something which needs to be corrected as much as possible. It would be a crime otherwise. He is far too powerful to have someone leading him by the nose."
You don't honestly expect me to not manipulate him.
"No. But I do expect you to let him make his choices. You've already been manipulating him, as have I. He's already looked over his life and found so much wanting, such as where he let himself be duped and lied to. If it makes sense, open and obvious manipulation would not be looked on in the same light as secretive and underhanded attempts. Of course, he doesn't suspect me, but why would he."
All right, noted. Not my usual style, but I can adapt
when it comes to Harry. I take it you agree with my idea of
him spending two years here at Hogwarts and getting his
NEWTs.
"I do. He will not be respected if he fails to obtain them. I will be encouraging him toward Slytherin, so you can keep an eye on him and keep him safe. I will also be encouraging him to contemplate the idea of bonding to you, though I expect that would only happen once you are of age or have completed your education. I wouldn't recommend truly angering him, though. Whatever happened to land him here also stripped him of any of the restrictions placed on him. Charms, potions, and bindings. Should he realize that, I expect to be dealing with a lot of resentment, bitterness, and anger."
And thoughts on what he would be good at?
"Aside from letting you breed children on him? Not politics. He simply doesn't have the temperament, though that might change after two years in Slytherin and with you watching over him. Still doubtful. He is a good teacher, so if you were to manage a pre-Hogwarts school, that might come in very useful, or even later at Hogwarts, after a few years have passed post-NEWTs. He is exceptional at Defense, and if he loosens up on this whole Light and Dark thing and obtains a larger repertoire of spells and tactics, could be even more devastating. That said, a Ministry job is very unlikely. Too much corruption and too many restrictions. Manipulating the Ministry, on the other hand, perhaps, given enough timely praise when he does well or does things you wish to encourage."
Hm. And his propensity for doing harm?
"Fair. He has revenge fantasies. Some of his dreams are quite brutal, though he does not remember them. He's had too many people use him, turn their backs on him, or betray him. He has attempted the Cruciatus Curse, but he was feeling grief more than a desire to harm at the time, so it failed. Still, he tried, which means there's hope for a more balanced education in and use of magic, Dark and Light. Surprisingly enough, he does not blame the Other for the death of his parents. It was war, after all, and seen from a distance he can understand that, which is why he did not have a panic attack when he realized who was on the other side of his prison. I would pay attention if he seems to loathe someone on sight, though."
Hm. Understood. And I understand that many things
will not be the same. He would still likely have an inborn
loathing for some, despite them being innocent of those
crimes now. Do you have any idea what he might inherit?
"In this time and place? I have some suspicions on that. I would expect you'll want to breed at least two sons on him, as heirs. I imagine if you were to visit Gringotts once you turn seventeen you might be able to properly claim the Slytherin line, as the most direct descendant. The Gaunt family certainly descended from them. If nothing else, if what I suspect is accurate, the boy might be willing to give you proxy voting rights in the Wizengamot for his inheritance, once you completed your education. Time will tell on that. On a side note, once we are out of here, you can always try touching his scar while he is sleeping to communicate with me. I believe that would work."
I don't even know what he looks like.
"Bright green eyes, perpetually messy black hair, pale from a lack of sun, a bit under average height, refined features. I expect you will like his appearance, though I imagine you will despair over his hair. Perhaps he can be convinced to grow it out enough to be styled."
You're saying you find him attractive.
"Yes."
I … admit, the idea of seeing someone who's mine
swelled with my child is … desirable.
"I imagine the part where you'd get to fuck him repeatedly would be desirable, too."
Must you use such coarse language?
"Yes. I like the word fuck. I like the word breed. I like the idea of having someone be a complete slut for me and only me, always ready and willing to let me fuck them. But I'm just a Horcrux. I only have fantasies."
Fine. I suppose I can't stop you from cursing.
"That's right, you can't. But I can help you gain more forfeits, by occasionally making him slip up when it comes to that. If you're interested, that is. You already have three, but I imagine you wouldn't mind having more to hold over his head, as he was foolish enough not to place limits on what a forfeit might entail, having been eased by your example of a possible one. We should work toward making sure he doesn't fall for that with others. I doubt you would—"
Yes. It is one thing for me to manipulate him, but if
someone else were to try, I would be most upset.
"You are quite possessive of what is yours."
Of course I am. And I will never forgive Dumbledore for
appearing to burn my treasures, nor taking them away.
"Then I expect you will protect the boy."
Of course I would! If he is mine, of course. …Was it
Dumbledore, then, this manipulator?
"Yes. And the people who looked to the man as if he was Merlin himself, wise, right, just…"
Why would they do that!?
"Because he went from Transfiguration professor to the defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald."
No.
"Now, now. It happened there, it could easily happen here. According to a book written about the man after his death, it came out that Dumbledore was once very close with Grindelwald, back when Dumbledore had finished his education and Grindelwald was sixteen or seventeen, having been expelled from Durmstrang. They got on very well discussing how they were superior to muggles and should jointly rule the world, bring about the natural order of wizard-kind ruling over them.
"Dumbledore was rather resentful that instead of being able to go off with his lover and accomplish all that, he was stuck at home caring for his younger sister, a girl who had been attacked by muggles and no longer had control over her magic. A fight broke out at one point between Dumbledore's younger brother Aberforth, Dumbledore himself, and Grindelwald, and one of them accidentally killed the sister.
"Grindelwald fled, to later become a dark lord, whereas Dumbledore ended up teaching at Hogwarts a bit later on. Aberforth has never forgiven his brother for that whole mess. Moving ahead on that timeline, in 1945, just a few short years from now, Dumbledore fought and defeated Grindelwald and ended his reign, imprisoning him in the same prison Grindelwald had built to house his enemies and opponents: Nurmengard.
"In the book, according to the author, eye witness accounts said it seemed to be more of a surrender on Grindelwald's part, which means, if that was true, it could have been emotional manipulation on Dumbledore's part, for their former relationship and the girl's death. My point here is that it is possible you could take Dumbledore out now with enough cunning, but it would probably be better to wait until after he has accomplished that defeat.
"Grindelwald still believes we should be revealed to the muggles and rule over them. Personally, I consider that far too risky a proposition. There are billions of people on this planet, the vast majority of them muggles. There were a few billion more by the time the boy started school, again most of them muggles. Even Dumbledore caters to the muggles, despite some of them scarring his sister so badly, mentally and magically. Consider letting him take out Grindelwald, then arrange for a most sneaky ambush to then see him dead."
I see. And moving on from that, expanding our
population. And the muggles? If they were to die in great
numbers?
"Best done by indirect means, though you'd have to convince the boy. Inciting muggles to kill muggles is one thing, it happens every day, though not usually in such large numbers as during a war. But this war? This one is special, and the muggles come up with bombs that are horrifying. Even the people who don't die immediately can be affected and will succumb. Arranging for another war would be foolish. You'll understand what I mean when this one ends, assuming you read the muggle news reports."
Your words fill me with a certain sense of dread.
"They should. Millions died, and that was before those new bombs. There have been plenty of wars beyond this one, but not world wars. It would be a bad idea for there to be a World War III."
Any advice? This is the last time I expect to be able to
talk to you for some months.
"Be patient with the boy. Help him see truth rather than lies. Praise him when he does well. Help him with things he doesn't understand, for he was kept ignorant even after re-joining the wizarding world. Get him motivated. Don't dismiss anything he says out of hand. Make it seem reasonable and logical and appealing that you will be sharing his home, once he has one."
And his bed.
"Of course. Use the forfeits you have to their greatest advantage. And the ones you will earn. Ask him, in places private, about things he knows of from his time. You might find investing in the muggle world could earn you a lot of money, even if you'd have to get it exchanged for gold, and even though it might be some time before any of it would be of use. The boy was born in 1980, after all.
"Teach him what you can about wandless magic and occlumency and legilimency. Teach him about the world you live in. You'll know more than he does, even of the wizarding world. Remember, he was kept isolated and clueless, and no honest attempts were made to get him to do better after being made to appear stupid by those despicable muggles. Nagging does not count, as one foolish girl came to realize. Then again, she did like to lord her knowledge over his head. And in case you are not already aware of it, ask about the Room of Requirement. Or I could tell you."
Tell me.
"On the seventh floor of the castle, opposite side from Gryffindor, you will find a tapestry of a man attempting to teach trolls to ballet dance. Opposite that tapestry is a blank wall that really isn't. With requirements firmly in mind, pace thrice in front of that blank wall, and a door shall appear. So if you wished for a room to practice dueling in, imagine it, pace thrice, and it shall be provided.
"You can even ask for things inside, such as an exit to many places, such as a room in the dungeons, and even as far as Hogsmeade, but the required exit will close without someone being in the room to keep it active. I do not know if the room would hide the use of dark magic, but you could use the Chamber of Secrets for that, assuming you can appease the basilisk there with your Slytherin blood."
Could a house-elf hold it?
"Possibly. So you might want to encourage the boy to purchase one, if he hasn't inherited one. Besides, if you plan to breed him, you'll want house-elves anyway, for when he catches, to help him care for the children, and to do the cleaning."
Is he going to gain breasts once I get him with child?
"Based on what I saw in his memories of the book? No. It would horrify him if he did, in any case. A nanny-elf can make sure any children are adequately fed prior to transitioning to solid foods. Keep in mind, I don't think, based on what I saw, that you could get him to catch until after you've turned seventeen, but you'd be in school, so… Either find the right charms or go without after you become an adult through the end of your education. Still, nothing says you cannot practice. A lot."
I have to assume that has to do with parselmagic,
because any girl who's started her monthlies can catch,
even so young.
"Yes. Again, according to what I remember seeing in his memories. Do ask to borrow the book. It had a number of things the boy skimmed over, so you'll want the full details. Ah… He is getting restless. I should return this body to his bed in case he begins to wake. As you said, it will be some time before you can communicate with me again. Use that time well."
I will.
"Until later."