Tom Riddle was a boy.

(a young boy, a lonely boy, a sad boy, a fearful boy, a misunderstood boy)

A wizard boy and incredibly powerful, but a boy nonetheless.

(but he was weak too, he didn't know when to stop, didn't think he was. No one thought he was weak, and Tom was determined to keep it that way.)

Tom didn't act like a boy. He acted older than he really was, smarter than he really was, stronger than he really was.

(More powerful than he really was, smarter than he really was, more mature)

But Harry knew better. Harry always knew better.

And it was strange how Harry was so easy to get answers from, so easy to manipulate into doing what you wanted, and telling you whatever you wanted to know, but could determine the color of your soul with just a glance at your outward exterior.

And it unnerved Tom. He had been so used to being in control when he attended the orphanage. He saw all, knew all, held all the power.

(he needed to hold all the power. he had to, or they'd take him away, or worse, send him back to Wool's.)

But when he was with Harry, he felt weak, felt under Harry somehow, and even if Harry didn't notice or pretended not to, Tom knew.

He was weak for this boy.

( he loved this boy)

"Tom, do you think Professor Snape will take off if I'm missing ½ inch of parchment. He asked for a full 24 inches, but-" But Harry was completely done with this assingment and wanted it to be over with.

"Then give him the full two feet," Tom interrupted. Harry huffed. They were studying (yes, actually studying) in the library. It had been about two weeks since the Luncheon, as everyone had taken to calling it. A rather odd name, but Tom digressed. It had been a week since Bellatrix had found Harry smushed in a corridor after being teased and taunted out of his dorm by his dorm mates. Both Bellatrix and Harry refused to tell Tom what had happened, and Tom hadn't wanted to pry. Harry would have known the instant he did anyway.

Damned boy.

"But it's only ½ missing," Harry protested. Tom rolled his eyes.

"It's Professor Snape, he'll take 15 points from Gryffindor if he ever heard that you thought you could get away with missing ½ of an inch. I can't imagine what he'll do if you actually turn that in."

Harry shoved him and Tom barely shifted in his chair. Tom smirked.

"Harry, Harry, where are our manners?"

"Who bloody cares? It's ½ of parchment!" Harry exclaimed, and quickly quieted down when Madam Pince shot a sour glare their way.

Tom snorted. "Write 'the end' or something at the end if you really care so much," Tom said, being purposefully unhelpful, just because he could be mean.

Harry groaned in frustration. "You're not helpful at all . Why do we need to know the properties of salamander blood anyway?"

Tom could think of many reasons why they had to know the properties of salamander blood, but he knew none of his answers would be particularly appealing to Harry, so he settled for saying-

"Shall we go ask Professor Snape?"

-and watching with amusement as Harry's face contorted into an expression of disgust and said-

"Bloody hell, no."

"No, no," Death shook their head. "Don't start there, start at the beginning."

The beginning. The point in time or space at which something starts. But what is starting? Tom? Harry? Tom and Harry?

"Fixed points," Death smiled. "So many to choose from."

"Oh for god's sake, Death." Fate complained. "Pick one."

"King's Cross then." Death said, and Fate groaned.

"I hate that one." Fate complained. "Too sad."

Tom Riddle was a wizard.

A wizard from Muggle upbringing, but a wizard nonetheless.

("So you are a freak," the matron said with grim satisfaction. "As long as we only have to see you during the summer, I suppose we'll let you return."

Tom refrained from saying anything and gritted out a 'thank you' before turning away sharply and preparing for his trip to Diagon Alley. At least he knew how to get there, and didn't have to ask the matron for a lift.

Tom was grateful for the opportunity to keep some of his dignity intact.)

And he was going to be the most powerful out of all of them, if he did say so himself.

Tom looked around Platform 9 ¾ , at all the crying parents and smiling parents, and siblings who were older dragging their new arrivals to the train, and siblings you were younger pleading for them to stay, and tearful goodbyes and promises to send letters, and hugs and kisses, and love-

Overwhelming, (sickening) love.

Things Tom will never have.

(or so he thinks)

(or is it something he knows?)

(but if he truly believed that to be fact, then the boy knows nothing)

Tom had no one to do that for him. He hitched up his bag, packed carefully with the few belongings he owned, and began to walk to the brightly coloured red train. At the obnoxious color, Tom wrinkled his nose, but made his way towards it anyways. He only had to see it 14 times out of the years he'd be staying in Hogwarts anyways. As he did, he noticed another boy standing apart from the crowd. No parent wished him goodbye, no sibling at his side, not even a friend to talk to.

In fact, it almost seemed like everyone was avoiding him. Tom saw multiple glances set the boy's way, and eyes would widen in recognition and whispers would start and finger pointing would ensue.

He was alone.

(Like Tom)

And at that moment, a fixed point in time was carried out. Instead of walking to the train, Tom Riddle turns around and walks to go speak with the boy known as Harry Potter, though he doesn't yet know his name.

"Hello," Tom reaches his hand out for the other boy. The boy takes it tentatively. Tom can see his face flash with an emotion that Tom can't read before he introduces himself.

"Hello," The boy says. "My name is Harry. Harry Potter," Tom doesn't know if that's the customary way wixen greet each other, but he can see surprise on the boy's face when Tom doesn't recognize him, and seems to come to a conclusion.

"Tom Riddle," Tom says, and it marks the start of a beautiful friendship.

Tom is sitting at the Slytherin table, wishing Harry was sitting with him when he hears-

"You're Harry Potter, right? The one whose parents were killed by Grindelwald?"

And the whispers.

So many whispers.

Tom saw their eyes, their looks, their stares. Their judgment, harsh words burning his skin. He saw Harry turn white and lose breath, he saw the professor's do nothing as a student under their care was having a fucking panic attack-

And Tom knew what he had to do immediately.

"Get up, move," Tom grabbed Harry's shoulder and dragged him away from the Great Hall. Tom had no idea where to go, but he was anything but indecisive. Tom led him away from the castle until they had reached a lake. Tom turned around to face Harry.

"Harry, are you okay?" Tom waited until Harry gave him a shaky nod and drew in a breath.

"Why," Harry licked his lips. "Why did you help me?"

Tom was surprised, before his surprise quickly gave way and morphed into anger.

"You were having a panic attack while everybody else stood there and did nothing," Tom snarled. "Did you expect me to sit idly by?" From the look on Harry's face he did, and Tom's heart ached for this poor boy.

"But why me?"

Tom looked away now. Now he felt embarrassed, not wanting to admit his true reason.

(because you needed help)

"You didn't say anything about my name when I introduced myself," Is what he says instead.

"What about your name?"

"It's not a Pureblood name, like yours," Of course, Tom was simply assuming from the chatter he had heard from the other Slytherin's. "It means I'm a Muggleborn. I'm a Mudblood," Yet another phrase Tom had learned. Dirty blood, they called him. Dirty blood, they taunted him. And it hadn't even been a day. Imagine a week, month, year.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, outraged, and Tom turned towards him, surprised. "You're not," Harry grabbed Tom's face and pulled it close to him. Tom saw his breath come out in little white puffs. He felt his face color with a blush but Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Never call yourself that. Never. You have to promise me," Harry held out his pinky. Tom raised an eyebrow. Tom hadn't known that Harry knew about that Muggle practice.

Tom supposed that there was a lot he didn't know about Harry.

"How do you know what that is? I thought you were Pureblood."

"Promise me, and maybe I'll tell you."

Tom locked pinkies with him.

"Promise."

"The beginning," Death muttered. "So bleak, so alone was he."

Death let out a soft laugh, then a chuckle, before laughing hysterically.

"The beginning," Death said again. "The beginning indeed."

Tom couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel his hands. He could see his hands, however, but he didn't need to to know that they were shaking. There were too many voices and they were all yelling at him, and saying his name-

Tom

Tom

ToM

TOM

Tom had never hated his name so much the way he hated his name then. He brought his hands to his ears but he could still hear the voices. Maybe they would stop if he drowned them out, so Tom opened his mouth-

And screamed. And it was still so loud, so he screamed louder and he could feel tears on his face and he could still hear their voices-

Freak

Freak

Freak

Freak

Over and over and over again in his head, all day and all night. He tried to fight them, he really did. He immersed himself in work, he had Harry, he was the Heir of Slytherin, he had his followers, his Death Eaters. He had what he wanted, he had everything he'd wanted and worked for.

But it wasn't enough.

(It was never enough)

(but Harry was enough)

(but he could never give Harry enough)

"Leave me alone, leave me alone, please ," Tom pleaded with the voices. "Please leave me alone,"

Tom writhed around as he screamed, and the voices continued to yell in his head relentlessly. A hand pushed him onto his back. It hovered just above his face like it wanted to touch him. Tom could feel the cool breath of someone else as they turned him on his back. The unknown person grabbed his wrist, and Tom realized that he'd been scratching at his face and hitting himself.

"Tom, Tom I got you, you're fine." It was Harry. His Harry. Harry had him, so Tom was fine.

And Tom closed his eyes.

And for once, he had a dreamless (voiceless) sleep without the help of potions.

He only needed Harry.

He had only ever needed Harry.

"Bellatrix, they're getting worse. We were in the library and he was fine and then he was screaming and writhing around. At least we'd cast a Muffliato or I can't imagine what would've happened."

They were talking about him. That was Harry's voice, but it sounded...worried. Scared. And Tom didn't like that. Tom hated it when Harry was upset.

Mostly because it meant Harry was upset with Tom, and that was worse than Harry being upset at all.

And holy fuck, Tom must have passed out because his thought process was not usually limited to Harry, Harry, Harry . Although often they were.

"Tom, are you alright?" Harry's eyes had flitted in his direction. Perhaps he'd accidently said Harry's name out loud. How silly of Tom. It wasn't often Tom made silly mistakes like this but it happened eventually. Even the highest will fall.

Tom giggled. Was he the highest already? The highest anyone could ever be?

Ah, that explained it.

"He's fucking high." Bellatrix sneared disdainfully. Tom wanted to laugh. So typical of Bellatrix, never caring about the consequences of disrespecting her lord, probably because she knew there wouldn't be any.

"Harry, Harry," Tom reached for the other boy. "Harry."

He pulled Harry's face to meet his own. "Harry, please don't be mad at me."

"For what?"

"I did something bad. Something you think is bad."

"What?"

A scream. A hiss. Blood on the walls.

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.

"Tom, what did you do?" Harry asked, voice no longer as gentle as it was before.

The Chamber of Secrets was open.

(The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware)

I dream of you almost every night

"Harry," Tom started. "I killed someone."

( The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.)

Hopefully I won't wake up this time

Harry said nothing.

( The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.)

I won't wake up this time

"I want to go home," Tom said. He paused. "But I have no home."

( The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.)

I won't wake up this time

"Tom, what are you high on? You gave it to you?"

( The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.)

I won't wake up this time

"That's funny, because I've only eaten the lemon drop Dumbledore offered me. I'm not even sure how it happened."

Dumbledore's lemon drop.

Fuck.

ₜₕₑ Cₕₐₘbₑᵣ ₒf ₛₑcᵣₑₜₛ ₕₐₛ bₑₑₙ ₒₚₑₙₑd. ₑₙₑₘᵢₑₛ ₒf ₜₕₑ ₕₑᵢᵣ, bₑwₐᵣₑ.