Chapter Twenty-Two
It wasn't until the next day, Sunday, that Hermione realized she'd completely forgotten to show everyone her revised contract for their study group, a fact she somehow managed to blame on Tom. For his part, Tom didn't much care one way or another about it, but he wanted to encourage the ruthlessness that had designed the contract in the first place, so he went along with her commandment to find the others and make them sign it. Ginny and Luna signed easily enough, and the other three Weasleys didn't even bother to read the thing before signing their names. Even Bones signed after much back and forth regarding the terms of the contract, prompting her friends to get involved and leading to a promise to bring Finch-Fletchley, Abbot, and MacMillian to the next meeting.
The trouble was the Slytherins.
Finding them was problematic in its own way. Tom finally tracked them down in the Slytherin girls' dormitory via the Marauder's Map, but he didn't have a good way of getting in there. Even being a Parselmouth didn't grant him access without the password. He'd tried asking the Room for a door into their dorms, but apparently the Room had notions about a student's right to privacy. He eventually settled for sitting across from the portion of blank wall that acted as the Slytherin Common Room entrance, glaring at the stone as he waited for someone to come along who would either let him in or drag them out.
"Potter?"
It was a girl's voice, but not the right one. Tom turned his head and sought her name. "Miss Parkinson," he said smoothly, no trace of his previous irritation.
The otherwise pretty girl sneered. "What are you doing in the dungeons?"
If she didn't want to play nicely, Tom was fine with that. He dropped the pleasant demeanor, smirking as she shivered. "I need to speak with Miss Greengrass and hers, as well as Mister Zabini. Fetch them, if you would." He gave his wand a subtle flick as he spoke.
It was only a light compulsion, but the girl was already halfway through the door before she managed to break free. That was far too late, and Tom flashed her a smug grin as he walked past her into the Common Room. Speaking loudly enough for the Slytherins inside to hear him, he said, "Thank you, Miss Parkinson, for your assistance."
Ignoring the startled shouts from the various students within the Common Room, Tom strode up the girls' dorm hallway and opened the door to the fifth year's room.
"Pans-Potter?! What are you - get out!" was the initial greeting, courtesy of Davis.
Tom ignored her (as well as her state of undress and Zabini's similarly undressed presence beside her) and held out the contract to Greengrass. "Hermione asked me to get everyone to sign this."
After a moment's hesitation, glancing between Tom and her roommates, Greengrass sighed in annoyance and grabbed the contract. As she read, Tom drifted over to Bulstrode. "Lovely Common Room," he commented brightly. "I expect the overall atmosphere gets depressing at times, but the Gryffindors' room is a bit headache-inducing, so it's probably a decent tradeoff. Ravenclaw looks quite nice, but they've also got no security to speak of, so they have their own problems."
Bulstrode blinked owlishly at him. "Have you been in all the Common Rooms, Potter?"
Tom hummed a negative. "Still looking for a reason to go into Hufflepuff's." He cocked his head to the side. "Incidentally, are they exhibitionists or are you and Greengrass voyeurs? Or perhaps a bit of both?"
Bulstrode rolled her eyes. "Tracey tries to deny it, but I think it's the former. Daphne and I just ignore them."
Tom winced. "My condolences."
By now, Davis and Zabini were straightened up, and Davis stode up to him and pushed him. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" she demanded.
"Of course. That's an integral part of accessing the Hufflepuff dorms," Tom replied, in good cheer at the amount of annoyance he was managing to cause with minimal effort. They owed him some amusement for the amount of irritation he'd suffered earlier and, really, if they didn't want him here, they shouldn't have made it impossible to meet with them elsewhere.
Davis narrowed her eyes. "You don't tell anyone about this, alright?"
"About what? I saw nothing," Tom told her innocently. He waited until she'd just started to look relieved, then glanced down at her chest for a second. His grin turned completely malicious. "Absolutely nothing."
"Alright, Potter, stop pissing off my girlfriend," Zabini said, grabbing Davis's shoulder before she could attempt to throttle Tom. Zabini kissed her lightly on her forehead. "There's nothing wrong with being flat," he told her seriously. "A true man appreciates all sizes."
Tom marveled that the boy managed to keep smiling while getting kicked in the shin repeatedly.
"Alright, Potter," Greengrass said at last. She glared at the room's other occupants. "What's this consequence it mentions?"
"Hermione's idea," Tom told her. "Should any person who signs this contract then intentionally communicate the location, times, or subject of our study sessions to anyone they so much as suspect might attempt to prevent us from continuing to meet as we have been, every inch of their skin will begin itching, and nothing will cure it except Hermione's forgiveness."
Greengrass's lip curled. "Her forgiveness? What are we, children?"
"Well, yes, actually, but more important is that this prevents anyone from thinking that they only have to last for a set amount of time," Tom said. He paused, then added, "Hermione is far more vindictive than you might think."
"What if it's an accident?" Bulstrode asked.
Tom shrugged. "You'll get a warning. Three times, and it counts as having been intentional. The warning will be brief but noticeable, so it should be easy enough to correct your behavior before things reach that point."
Greengrass held a silent conversation with Bulstrode, while Davis and Zabini did the same. At last, Greengrass nodded and signed. She handed it to the others and examined Tom critically. "You realize how dangerous that consequence could become, don't you?"
Tom stared back at her expressionlessly. "Of course."
"Fine then," she said. She retrieved the signed contract and gestured toward the door. "Now get out. Next time you need to get hold of us, just wait until dinner like a normal person."
On his way out, Tom ran into Severus, who pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "Twenty points from Gryffindor for intruding in another House's Common Room."
"Yes, sir," Tom said, ducking his head meekly to hide his smirk.
The following weeks passed uneventfully. Tom created a sort of syllabus (though he strictly refused to call it such) based on his memories of his Defense OWLs, and in between dodging practice and practicing their new spells, he made sure they progressed through that as well.
Unlike most people, Fred and George took their resounding defeat as a challenge to keep trying to get a spell past Tom's defenses. While this initially meant they spent half of every study session half-dead on the floor, it also led to the most rapid improvement. Spurred on by the indignity of being beaten by a pair of pranksters, both the Slytherin contingent and Tom's Gryffindor girls (plus Luna, who was practically a Gryffindor by now anyway) started doing the same. Bones eventually gave in and brought her friends with her, leaving Ron and Longbottom to pair up.
(Tom was interested to find out that Finch-Fletchley was, in fact, also a dark-aligned wizard. It was most likely mere coincidence, but he rather wanted to conduct a proper study now to see if muggleborns tended more toward the dark.)
By mid-October, everyone was well-trained to start moving the moment they heard the beginning of the most common lethal curses. Instead, every Sunday included forty minutes of free-for-all, each team struggling to down the others. Most of the time, Tom sat these out, because for all their improvement, they were still half a century too young to best him, but on occasion he joined in, making a concentrated effort to keep to spells suitable for an OWL-level student, even if it was by now clear to the entire group that he was anything but.
It was nice, Tom reflected on occasion. He couldn't quite define the difference, but surely his student life the first time around had been quite different, because if it had been like this, he probably never would have become Lord Voldemort.
On Halloween morning, Neville stopped him on his way down to breakfast. Ginny had already left, and the rest of the boys in the dorm were still asleep. "Harry, I wanted to apologize," Neville said in a rush of breath. He grimaced. "I could have, should have told you about your place in our society. When we first arrived, I didn't realize that you didn't know, and by the time that became clear, it had been so long that it just felt, I don't know, awkward bringing it up." The boy shook his head. "That's the reason, but it doesn't excuse my failure as Heir Longbottom."
Tom's lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. Neville was becoming one of his favorites. The boy wasn't talented, perhaps, but he was such a hard worker given even the least bit of encouragement that he was still one of Tom's best students. In a way, the boy reminded him of Barty, but that wasn't a comparison that would go over well. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I didn't exactly make it easy for you to approach me."
"Still -"
"I mean it," Tom said firmly. "I'm not bothered, and I don't want you to be either."
Neville's expression was a bit mulish, but he at last nodded. "If you ever need anything though, all you have to do is ask. I'll help in any way I can." There was a surge of magic, proving just how seriously he meant it.
For just a moment, Tom contemplated revealing everything to the boy right then, just for the pleasure of watching Neville realize that he'd just sworn to aid the Dark Lord. He had to quash that urge though. It served no useful purpose and…
And he wasn't sure he even was the Dark Lord, anymore. He wasn't Voldemort, and that wasn't just a matter of semantics. Some parts of him remained the same - his general hatred of Dumbledore and lack of empathy for the majority of the people around him, for instance - but other parts had changed entirely. Tom tried but couldn't remember a time when he'd felt any true affection for another person in his first life. Now, however, the excuse that he merely cared about Hermione, Ginny, and Luna because they were his possessions was beginning to wear thin. And for all that he had high hopes for Hermione's future as a dark witch, he'd finally admitted to himself that patiently waiting as he'd been doing was entirely outside his former character.
Furthermore, he'd begun noticing more and more gaps in his memory. As Voldemort, he'd thought about his time as a student as little as possible. Because of that, he couldn't tell if these gaps had always been there or if something worse was happening. He remembered grimly the way Professor Quirrel had looked in Potter's memories.
What if this body was too incompatible after all?
Tom muttered something to Longbottom and left, struggling to breathe through a sudden rush of anxiety.
Caught up in those thoughts as he was, Tom barely noticed as the day moved on without him. He went along with the steady flow of students and ended up in the correct classes at the correct times because of it, but his mind was firmly turned inwards. He neither noticed nor cared about the worried looks Hermione sent him, and he ignored Bones' attempts at conversation during Herbology.
As the day progressed, it began to feel like he was coming apart. His vision came and went, he lost his balance, his heart felt as though it would both race itself to death and forget to continue beating all at once. A Calming Draught did nothing, and his usual tricks - concentrating on his breathing or counting to one hundred in a dozen different languages or touching Hogwarts' walls and immersing himself in the magic to be found there - did little to help. He found himself settling into Severus's quarters while the man was at the Halloween Feast and pouring himself a shot of Firewhiskey. He didn't usually drink. Hadn't since… His head ached, and he shook off the thought. At the moment though, with no one around to see it, he just wanted to stop thinking.
"That will be thirty points from Gryffindor, Master."
Tom jerked upright, gasping, then caught sight of Severus scowling down at him and collapsed back into the couch. "Piss off," he muttered.
He heard Severus pick up the shot glass and the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey and walk away, footsteps fading quickly in the thick rugs covering the potions' master's quarters. A few minutes later, the man returned. "Drink this," he said, voice tired.
Tom blinked up at the man, chuckling at the blurry figure he made above him. "What's the point?" he asked, even as he allowed his servant to help him sit up and take a sip from the glass. It was just water, thankfully. He didn't think he could keep anything else down. He felt too hot and too cold and all kinds of chilled.
"Master?"
Tom waved a hand. "What's the point?" he asked again, more forcefully. "What kind of Dark Lord spends his time surrounded by a bunch of teenagers? What am I even doing here? How am I supposed to achieve… anything like… this!" He could feel his magic ripping free of his control, but he couldn't summon the strength to reign it back in. His magic eagerly lashed out, eating away at everything it touched.
Tom was dimly aware of a bright light that looked, absurdly enough, like a doe. Severus was saying something, but Tom couldn't make it out over the roaring in his ears. He curled up, closing his eyes in desperation as his magic turned on him and it became his skin that was burning. Time lost meaning, and he had the wild thought that horcruxes probably didn't even have a chance at an afterlife.
Arms wrapped around him, and Tom struggled weakly against them. He could barely move. Potter's body was rejecting him.
Suddenly cold, unfamiliar magic bit through his and shocked him back to the present. Through the haze, he saw Luna. She was saying something. "Take the next step," he worked out, but what did that even mean?
Severus's magic replaced hers, and Tom realized belatedly that a ritual was being performed. Even like this, even dying, he managed to connect the pieces. The second step of the bonding ritual. He fought to remember it, trusting that Severus wouldn't go along with Luna's idea without good reason.
The world snapped back into focus.
Tom stared at his servant, who knelt before him, Dark Mark bared. The man was pale and sweating. "Severus?" he croaked, and he realized that he may have been screaming, because his throat burned. The man's head jerked up, and Tom saw himself reflected in Severus's obsidian eyes. If he didn't need a stay in the Hospital Wing after this, it would be a miracle.
"You have to finish it," Hermione prompted quietly.
Tom started to shake his head, because he'd made no preparations to perform any rituals past the first one, but as sometimes happened with this type of magic, he found magic guiding his gaze to the Dark Mark. There was no indication why Severus was showing it to him, nor what Tom was supposed to do, but an urge struck him, and he followed it. The magic that had just a moment been tearing him apart wrapped around the Mark. Severus cried out, but didn't move. Tom smiled faintly. He'd always been impressed by the man's self-control. He hissed, "You have completed your service faithfully. Rest now." The snake in the Mark moved in something like a nod, and Severus cried out again as the Mark burned away.
Tom's vision swam, and he toppled forward into Severus who, equally spent, fell as well, and neither had the energy to move from the exceedingly uncomfortable position, no matter how hard Severus's chin or how sharp Tom's elbow might be.
Much, much later, the two exhausted men laid in transfigured beds in a sort of makeshift Hospital Wing formed by the three girls.
"What happened?" Tom asked at last.
Luna looked sad. "A soul divided is an inherently unstable thing," she said, carding her fingers through Tom's hair gently.
Tom shuddered as he registered her words. The feeling that he was dying hadn't been just a delusion. "How long do I have?" he asked, only his exhaustion preventing another panic attack.
Luna turned to Hermione, who bit her lip, then picked up the book containing the ritual. "This… I was originally reading it to try and learn more about horcruxes, you know," she said slowly. "You know, because the whole soulmate is your ideal love thing muggles believe in… I didn't expect anything to come of it, really, but…" She paged through it until she reached the second step of the ritual. "It's not exactly the same, but the ritual has many of the same base elements."
Tom wondered how he'd missed Hermione learning enough soul magic to have worked out its arithmetic base.
Luna nodded. "This ritual is additive, so each additional bond helps," she said. "But it's a delicate balance. Too much too soon could be just as dangerous as not enough." She gave him a cheeky sort of grin. "I've been monitoring you. The more time you spend near your bonded, the more stable your attachment." The grin dimmed a bit. "Without them, I don't think you'd have made it back to school even."
Hermione held the book open so Tom could see. Severus leaned in to look as well, despite himself, while Ginny took Tom's hand in her own and gently rubbed the back of it with her thumb. The page Hermione had the book open to showed an overview of the ritual in its entirety. A bond formed, a bond strengthened, a bond completed. A kiss, an act of trust, an expression of love. "Luna told me recently that she could see you beginning to… to fray, I guess. We've been trying to work out what's stopped it from happening sooner and why it's still happening, and we think it's because of this ritual. There are some variables we don't quite understand, but we think that if we can figure those out, completing all three rituals a certain number of times will solve this."
Tom reread the ritual requirements and closed his eyes. "Then there's no hope."
"What do you mean?" Ginny demanded.
Tom laughed mirthlessly. "An expression of love? How exactly am I meant to do that? I doubt merely saying the words would satisfy the ritual." He'd do it, of course, because it'd be stupid not to at least try, but he knew better than to get his hopes up.
Ginny looked at him fiercely. "You are Tom Riddle. You can do anything you set your mind to! Don't you dare give up just because it might be a little hard."
"Besides," Hermione added, "that part would come much later. Luna thinks you need to perform the second step with me and then Ginny, then add another three bonds after that." Her brow furrowed. "Apparently something else also needs to happen, and we're not sure what, but arithmetically it seems like… a symbolic offering?" She shook her head. "We can figure this out if we work together. You're going to be fine, Tom."
She sounded so incredibly certain. Tom didn't have the energy to argue about it any further. She'd learn or she wouldn't. Instead, he smiled at her. "You called me by my name," he mumbled as sleep took him. "I wish…" His eyes slid closed, and his breathing evened out.
AN: aaaaaarrrrggghhhhhhh I did so much math working out how the ritual might work only to realize I wasn't working off the correct numbers to begin with. T_T I have a feeling that I'd need to know quantum physics to work it out properly, so we'll just assume that Hermione and Luna are way more awesome than me. (As though that wasn't a given already…)
Also, I've been trying to read more Tom/Harry fics recently, to get more Tom perspectives, and feel like there are so many different Toms in the world. Some of them are better than others, and some are more fun than others, but still.
Finally, I am reminded every day how annoying it is when a fanfic you're really into stops updating. I mean, there have been a lot of fics… VenusSmurf, I'm looking at you here, who I still remember more than a decade later… but most recently I'm so sad that there's no more of The Black Family's PR Nightmare. I wanted to read more about Pip the house elf.
