A/N "We'll Meet Again" was first made a hit in Britain in 1939 by Vera Lynn. I don't have the name of the lyric's author at hand. Needless to say, it's not me. Inspiration for the piano playing comes from ACMC, and that author's Harry Potter fan-fic "Awakenings." Once again, disclaimers apply even to chapters they don't appear in. "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling, et. al. "We'll Meet Again" is the property of someone else, et. al. Only the plot elements are mine, et. al. On with the story.
As the trio of wizards approached Four Privet Drive, Tom saw Vernon's company car sitting in the driveway, all the better to show it off to the neighbours. It was a 1996 BMW mid-line four-door saloon. Grunnings had a very good year, and in good times, Grunnings treated their people right, especially their managing directors. The car was like nothing Tom had seen before in his memory, but the blue and white spinners on the hubcaps were legendary. Tom stopped in utter shock and gaped for a moment. Harry was expecting excited questions, but not the ones he heard.
"What year is it, Harry? Did Britain win the war? And what did the Germans do to their cars? Where are the running boards? What about the headlamps? You're not Nazis, are you?"
Harry was stunned, but answered quickly, almost in a fog as the implications of Tom's questions started to sink in. "It's 1996, Tom. We won the war back in 1945, and beat Japan too. Cars have changed a lot since then. What is the last year you remember? And how do you know me? I was born in 1980!"
Tom was just as stunned as Harry. He answered bemusedly, speaking aloud to himself at first. "I've been out of it for fifty-seven years! God help me!" He faced his new brother and said clearly, "Harry, I got possessed fifty-seven years ago today. After that time, Voldemort let me know almost nothing! I saw what my body was doing and seeing for a few months, but after that, I only knew what he let me know. He let me see many of his murders, but nothing else. I knew about you because I saw your dad and mum killed, and felt the curse rebound from you just as painfully as Voldemort did. He couldn't shut up about you after that! I saw you in the graveyard after Voldemort got his body back, and your appearance hasn't change so much since then that I couldn't recognize you. Your magic looks the same, just stronger."
Tom paused, and stared off into the distance. Harry watched the youngster's face change from strong concentration almost instantly into panic! "Harry! The wards, they're failing!"
Dumbledore interjected sternly, "How can you say such a thing, Tom?"
"I can see them, Dumbleboor" the boy answered coldly. He continued to Harry, "I could always see wards, Harry! And I've never heard of a Blood Charm ward falling, nor have I seen one so weak. But it's falling, and if we don't stop it, it will fall and your Aunt and Uncle will be killed for sure!"
"And what about Harry?" Dumbledore asked politely.
Tom replied, "There's a second Blood Charm shield around him and me now… Professor. Sorry about that last bit. And I can't see that shield, but I feel it's a strong one, but I don't know how it got there!"
Dumbledore answered, "Let me check something." The ancient wizard picked a pebble out of the gutter, transfigured it into a small glass sphere, and then cast a few silent spells on it, causing it to glow a faint dull red. He frowned, cast a few more silent spells upon the glass orb, and it glowed a bright, blinding gold that would rival the sun. Dumbledore shook his head bemusedly and spoke again.
"It seems, Tom, that you know far more about Blood Charms than I taught my seventh years. You and Harry are indeed surrounded by a true Blood Charm, tied with the blood of Harry's mother. The original charm never worked as well, because of the Dursleys' attitude toward Harry. We need to get to the Dursleys quickly before the charm over the house fails for good."
The three wizards quickly walked the last few steps to the Dursleys' house, Harry leading the way and letting the trio in.
Whereupon, all hell broke loose. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had all been the lounge watching the telly when the fight with Voldemort broke out, and saw almost the whole thing, including the three wizards' progress into their house. Vernon was so furious he was beside himself, but sputtered impotently.
His reticence was not caused by any wizard, but by his own son. Dudley was exposed to his worst possible fear the previous summer. And that fear was that he would suddenly become a wizard like his cousin Harry, and be unceremoniously tossed out into the street.
This was pure rubbish, as Vernon and Petunia told their son, and the Smeltings psychiatrist time and again, being silently thankful that said psychiatrist was also a Squib. But, to help their darling Dudders, they would do almost anything, including pretend in their son's presence that Harry was not only cared for, but actually somewhat welcome, provided he kept his freakish talents to himself whilst under their roof, thank you very much.
So now, there were a few pictures of Harry in the living room to go with all the pictures of Dudley, mostly old Muggles school pictures bought from the school photographer at great expense, along with a few Hogwarts pictures, suitably modified for display in front of Muggles, namely stunned so they didn't move, and with the Hogwarts house crests air-brushed out. But Harry himself was truly no more welcome to the Dursleys then he ever was, which was to say almost not at all.
The three wizards walked into the lounge, and Tom spoke first, hoping to diffuse things. "Hello," he said, "I'm Tom Riddle, Harry's new brother." He looked at Petunia and continued, "You must be Aunt Petunia. I'm ever so glad to meet you." He looked at Vernon and continued, "And you must be the man of the house. Harry never said your name, what is it, sir?"
Vernon answered furiously, "Boy, my name is Vernon Dursley. Just Vernon Dursley." Vernon started to walk menacingly towards the boy.
Tom retorted, "Well, just Vernon Dursley, it takes a real man to try terrifying a naked boy in a borrowed slicker!"
Vernon stopped dead in his tracks, and became even more furious! Tom said, "Sorry for my cheek, sir. I know that you see me as a freak, and you hate my guts and wish I was anywhere else but here, but I'm still glad to have met you."
Vernon shifted instantly from rage to utter bemusement. The "new freak" had just been polite, and didn't even protest his being a freak! But what Tom said next chilled Vernon to his very soul, and changed his attitude towards wizards, or at least one, forever.
"By the way, sir, Dursley isn't a common name. Did you ever know a Winston Dursley? Did he have a good war?"
Vernon answered cautiously, "How do you know a Winston Dursley, and what friend of a boy-freak would have a war at all, good or bad?"
"My brand of freakery, sir, included being trapped away from it all for a long, long, time. In July of 1939, I met a young sergeant by that name, who stopped in the music hall I worked at, who was on his way to help the French near the Maginot Line. Even before Hitler did Poland, we knew war was brewing. He was a kind man, and tipped well. I just hope he made it."
Vernon said proudly, "My Uncle Winston, for your information, made it out at Dunkirk, landed at Normandy, and won the V.C in Market Garden, where he sadly lost his legs. He hung on until just before Dudley was born. I loved him even more than my father. He was kind to Petunia, even after we found out about her sister, Harry's mum."
Tom said sadly, "He must have been hurting badly, then. When I knew him, he was the dancingest man I'd ever known. To lose his legs…"
"Boy, you've no measure of a Dursley! He had artificial legs fitted, and danced better with them than most men with their own legs! Thought he was crazier than a loon, myself, but he had so much fun, I couldn't begrudge the man! He even danced with Petunia the day we were married, where my own dad, God rest his soul, refused."
Petunia, who was normally the less unfriendly of the two Dursley adults broke in harshly. "I don't believe you, freak!" she shouted. Speaking just as harshly, but lowering her voice to a dull roar, she continued, "You've got to prove what you're saying! See that piano?" she asked, pointing to the piano the Dursleys kept just to impress their guests. Tom nodded. She said in a snarl, "If you are any part of my family, you can play that piano like Rachmaninoff! Play it!"
Harry and Dumbledore were totally non-plussed at Petunia's request. Tom looked at her like she had grown another head. He said, "Harry is my brother, Aunt Petunia, because he said I was, and I agreed with him. But I've played the piano as long as I can remember! If a music hall show will get you to finally listen to me…"
Tom walked to the piano and sat at the bench before it. He lifted the cover from the keys, and started to play. At first, he played the songs he played in the music hall in the late thirties, when the piano was the largest thing between him and hunger. But as he played, he thought again of those times, of Sergeant Winnie, and of his first friend, his first girlfriend, the one who helped him put the demons behind him for those two years he remembered being a student at Hogwarts. He then played an old Vera Lynn song, one that to him was still a top-40 hit, and sang along in a voice that was still deepening, but was once again unbroken.
"We'll meet again, don't know
where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through, just like you always to do
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
"And so I'll just say "Hello" to the folks that know
Tell 'em you won't be long
They'll be happy to know that when I saw you go
You were singing this song
"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.
He played an instrumental interlude, speaking from the depths of his soul to his former love, who was now too old to even be his mother.
"Oh Mary! The times were all wrong for us! I remember the day we kissed our first kiss as if it were this morning. And truly, as I've lived time, it's only been a month. But for you, it's been over half a century! You're either a grandmother, a spinster, or dead.
"As God is my witness, I pray to Him that you are a grandmother! The kindness and affection you showed me carried me through a lifetime of torment, and have seen me to this day; a day where I might perhaps finally have a life. I owe you a wizard's debt such as no man has owed before, save the even greater debt I owe my big brother. Fair wind and following seas, Mary Germaine. I'll always love you, and I pray you found someone else who loved you just as much.
His style of playing was a cross between Eroll Gardener and Dave Brubeck, and rivaled both in artistry and emotional intensity. It was as if the large wooden instrument was indeed an extension of his very soul, and that his soul was deeper than the deepest of oceans. He played lyrically in an improvisation, before playing and singing the final refrain.
"We'll meet again, don't know
where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."
He stopped playing and burst into uncontrollable crying, resting his head on the keyboard. Dumbledore silently shed several tears for the heartache of the young student he still didn't quite trust, and was only starting to know. Harry thought to himself, "My new kid brother was mates with Uncle Vernon's uncle? What have I gotten myself into?" Petunia stared at the boy, her soul on fire. For, she knew now that the child was somehow related to her! Lilly Evans, her sister, played the piano just like Tom did, though her style was gentler, and more feminine. As she remembered, minus her usual jealousy, every magic relative of hers (and she knew of more than she let on) could play the piano perfectly in tune with their own souls, without so much as a hint of lessons. That was why she both had a piano, and forbade Harry to go near it except to dust it. She said dully, "You are my blood, Tom, just as you say."
Vernon was somewhat more active. He said firmly but politely to Dumbledore, "Dumbledore, do that fr… that stuff that you do and twaddle us up some tea? Tommy needs it." He then went to his liquor cabinet, and took out a bottle of sixteen year old Bushmill's Irish Whiskey and two glasses, pouring each glass full. He sat down on the bench next to Tom, offered one glass to him, and gently asked, "Tommy?"
The boy answered, "Sergeant Winnie?" Tom then looked up as he came back to modern times. He accepted the glass from Vernon, and both stood. As one, they raised their glasses, entoned, "Uncle Winston!" and slowly drained the glasses dry. Tom said, "This is much smoother than either Sergeant Winnie or I could afford in 1939. Thank you, sir."
Vernon said, "You're 'Tommy the Piano Boy.'"
Tom answered, "Only you, Sergeant Winnie, and maybe Harry would get away with calling me 'Tommy.' But yes, that's what Uncle Winston called me. I called him 'Sergeant Winnie,' he called me 'Tommy the Piano Boy,' and we both pissed each other off no end. But he loved to dance, I loved to play, he tipped well, and we loved each other as brothers. Did he ever marry, sir?"
Vernon answered, "No. His fiancé was killed in the Blitz. He's buried here in Little Whinging, if you have the time to visit by. He's just twenty yards south of the cenotaph. I had a nice stone put in when I had him buried, it'll be hard to miss."
"I'll have to have Professor Dumbledore make us a second Portkey, or we'll have to leave from there, sir. It's been fifty-seven years since I've seen your uncle last. Least I can do is visit his grave.
"But that gets me back to what I needed to tell you and Aunt Petunia in the first place! I can tell you loathe magic, but you've got to listen to this! You know nothing about Blood Charms, but you have been protected by one ever since Harry came to live here!
"There are evil people out there, Uncle Vernon, not just freaks like me but Hitlerite freaks, who want you and Aunt Petunia dead, and nothing you can do will change their minds! They wanted you dead just as badly before you took Harry in, so don't blame him.
"When Harry's mum was murdered, she used her magic, and Harry's to place a shield on Harry, and on you, once you took him in. If you'd have treated him like a son, or at least a nephew, the shield would have been strong enough to stop almost anything. But, you didn't, and it wasn't. No matter, water under the bridge.
"But you've got to change your ways! They're going to attack, in a few weeks, maybe a few months, but they will attack! If the shields are as week as they are now, you, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley will die! There will be no way you can be saved, even if Harry and I are here when they come! Professor Dumbledore doesn't have enough wizards in his command to put enough guards on this place, and even if the wizarding government had them, they are too incompetent and corrupt to be relied upon. Only the Blood Charm has a chance to keep you alive, but only if you help it! You have to finally accept Harry, if not love him. For the Charm works on your hearts, not your words! Accept my brother, and you may live. Continue to reject him, and you will die. It tears my heart out to have Sergeant Winnie's grave to visit. Please spare me from visiting your before I've even had to shave!"
Tom had grasped both of Uncle Vernon's biceps in his hands and looked him squarely in the eye as he said this. Uncle Vernon silently broke Tom's hold, and embraced the boy as a son. He answered, "You are no freak, Tom. Uncle Winston said you weren't, so it must be true! I promised Uncle Winston three things on his death bed! I promised that if ever I met you I would stand you to a drink of the best whiskey I could get. I promised to show you to his grave. And I promised that I would bring you and yours into my life as best I could, and help you and yours as best I could, for all my living days. Harry is your brother. I fear he will never like me, in my attempt to drive the magic that frightened me from him I was cruel and spiteful. But, you and he are welcome under this roof as long as I have the roof to place you under." With tears in his eyes, Vernon embraced Tom again, releasing him not less than a minute later.
Harry sensed what had happened to the wards in the first place, knowing the tenuous nature of his relationship to his aunt and uncle. Having seen out the unexpected reunion that followed, Harry had an idea as to the current state of the wards over his aunt and uncle's house. He asked, "Tom? Could you look out the window and tell me how the wards are doing?"
As Tom walked to the window to look, he answered, "Sure, Harry! Though I've never seen wards so weakened… God Damn! Bloody Hell! Motherfuck! Ow! Ow! OW!" Tom fell writhing to the floor, clutching his eyes in agony.
Vernon said, "I never heard Uncle Winston swear like that, Tom."
Tom replied, "I've never seen Sergeant Winnie have white-hot bayonets shoved into his eyeballs either, Uncle Vernon! Sorry, Aunt Petunia, but the wards are now so strong they nearly took the top of my head off!"
Harry laughed gently at Tommy's outburst, an outburst he himself would never have gotten away with under any circumstances at all, and smooth apology for the same. He then sniffed the air and noticed that his younger brother was ripening quite nicely under the rain slicker, not a nice thing at all.
Harry said sternly, "Tom! Upstairs! Shower! Soap! Deodorant! Brush teeth, toothpaste! Though I'm tempted to suggest soap! NOW!"
Tom looked dejectedly at his older brother, but answered, "Yes, Harry" and went up the stairs without another word.
Harry looked at Professor Dumbledore and asked, "Did they have aerosol deodorant in 1939?
The Hogwarts Headmaster answered, "No. You might help him when he gets to that point. But why in Merlin's name did you adopt Tom Riddle as your brother, Harry?"
Harry answered, "Tom is my brother, Professor. No reason is needed." Harry walked upstairs to help his brother get cleaned up and dressed.