Year 6: Chapter One
On Tom's first full day back from Hogwarts, Black sat him down at the kitchen table and lowered himself into the chair across from him. Molly Weasley was gone, though whether she was merely elsewhere in the house or returned to her home, Tom wasn't certain. What was clear, however, was that her presence had been all that held back a truly revolting amount of filth. He resolved to find a way to either get Kreacher to take care of things or restore the woman to working order.
"So, kiddo, I've been looking at your extracurricular reading list." Black smiled crookedly at Tom's surprise. "Relationship with my parents aside, I still became Lord Black when my grandfather died. That lets me do certain things like see what books have been removed from the shelves… and tell when a ritual is being performed within the house."
Tom stilled.
Black paused dramatically, then dropped his head into his hands and groaned with feigned(?) agony. "How could you do it? Why would you do it?"
"Define 'it' and I might be able to tell you," Tom said dryly. Whatever the issue, Black's performance meant it likely wasn't serious.
"Kiss Snivellus!" Black stood and started pacing. "I'll grant that Hermione and Ginny are cute girls and good choices, but Snape? Why? And how? His breath has got to be completely foul with those teeth. Surprised you didn't keel over from sheer disgust..."
Tom's eyes narrowed. "I trust him to have my best interests in mind. I won't have you insulting him in front of me, Sirius."
Black looked skeptical. "Are you bisexual? Because I don't blame you for wanting someone older, someone with more experience, if you're on the receiving end, but you can do better than Snape. One of the older Weasleys? Or would that be too weird…"
Tom stared at the man in mute horror.
"To that end, I got you some guides and tools. You won't find much in the magical world, but the muggle world has entire books devoted to sexual positions, you know. I got some for you to use with the girls too. You'll want to know what you're about when you're with those two, and by the way, congratulations on bagging two girls who don't mind sharing." Black continued to ramble along, blithely ignoring his godson's increasing distress.
Finally, Tom managed to swallow his nausea and shout, "Enough! I'm not - I would never - I have no interest in Severus romantically or sexually." He realized belatedly that using Severus's given name was probably not going to help his cause. He shook his head. "I have no interest in having sex with anyone, ever, so please stop trying to help me."
Black sat back down at that, looking concerned. "Okay, I'm sorry if I took the teasing too far, but I mean, even Snape's better than no sex at all." He paused. "Well, probably. It's close, but I think probably no sex is worse."
Tom rolled his eyes. "For you, perhaps. I have better things to do with my time."
"You'll have to continue the Potter and Black lines somehow you know," Black said, crossing his arms.
"I'm aware, but - wait. And Black?" Tom asked, interested despite himself. "Are you saying you've made me your heir?"
Black smiled, leaned forward, and ruffled Tom's hair, much to the boy's annoyance. "Of course I have, pup. I love you like my own, and I'll do anything to help you."
Tom smiled weakly and looked down. "Anyway, I know about that requirement, and I'll deal with it when the time comes. It doesn't take a great degree of experience to get a witch pregnant."
Black sighed heavily. "Fine. I definitely failed you, because no normal teenager has no interest in sex, but fine."
Tom glared, offended. True, he wasn't anything so mundane as normal, but he certainly wasn't deficient either, as Black seemed to be implying.
"In any case," Black said, moving on without acknowledging his godson's irritation, "you've also been looking into some pretty dark stuff." He closed his eyes, looking torn. "I understand your reasoning. You'll be facing it, so you'd be stupid not to learn about it, and hitting your opponents with stunners when they're aiming to kill does nothing but give your opponents an advantage. At the same time, I've known too many people who've been corrupted by the dark arts. Even I'm… well, I'm sure you've noticed I'm not exactly nice or sane at times." It looked as though the admission pained him.
Tom hesitated. He'd assumed that was a product of upbringing and/or Azkaban.
Black ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not gonna tell you to stop, because I know very well how well that goes over with teenagers. I want to be present though. I want to know what you're doing and how you're doing it, so I can step in if it looks like you're getting in over your head. There are things you can do to mitigate the effects the dark arts have on you, so if you let me help you, I'll make sure you don't go down the same path my - the same path others did."
"I've heard that it's just the mindset required that causes problems with some people, not the magic itself" Tom said, cautiously testing out Black's opinion.
Black nodded. "Mostly, that's true, though casting too much magic of the opposite alignment can create its own issues. The problem is that your magic, mind, body, and soul are all linked, and anything that affects one affects the others too." Black smirked. "Incidentally, with your opinion on sex, I'd be surprised if that ritual you performed didn't make you sick to your stomach. It's supposed to feel quite pleasant, you know."
No, Tom didn't know. He grimaced. Being muggle-raised was still causing problems. "Fine. But I'm not going to avoid something just because you say so. You have to explain why, and then I'll decide whether I think it's worth it or not."
Black ruffled Tom's hair again. "You know, I'm the one who's supposed to be in charge here," he complained, grinning.
"Grow up then," Tom retorted. "Was there anything else?"
Black shrugged. "Not right now. Though I gotta say, I'm not too happy with having Cissy and her kid thrown at me without a peep outta you."
Tom winced. "Sorry," he said semi-contritely. He really hadn't meant to forget.
With permission given, Tom found himself enjoying the summer far more than he'd expected. Most days of the week, he found himself dueling Black in the basement. Though rusty, Black had been one of the few Aurors capable of surviving a fight against him a decade and a half ago, and it showed. Even now, he was capable of holding his own against Tom, who was handicapped by having to actively try not to kill the other man.
It was good for Black too, Tom thought, grinning as he cast another cutting curse toward the dog animagus. Black shifted back into human form, grinning just as fiercely as Tom, and threw up a shield before sending a half dozen iron arrows speeding toward him.
Suddenly his magic burned in a way that was both familiar and not. Tom shielded himself and stopped, focus immediately going to the bundle of mental threads tying him to those who bore his mark. Who could be calling for him? He hadn't mentioned to most of them that their marks could be used in that way or were, in fact, anything other than fancy tattoos. Bones. Tom's eyes narrowed. He hadn't told her, which meant she might be in the sort of desperate situation that made one try anything and everything they could think of. "I'll be back," he said shortly and dashed up the stairs without waiting for a reply. He could hear Black following behind him, but Tom was both faster and had a head start. The moment he crossed the wards, he Apparated to Bones's mark.
He appeared in the middle of a burning house. Bones stood there, wand against her mark, deathly pale. On the floor lay Abbot and MacMillan, breathing but unconscious. The girl sagged with relief. "Harry, my aunt, she's -"
The pain hit Tom so suddenly, he dropped to one knee, hand flying to his head. The barriers he'd built against Voldemort within his mind shattered, and a wave of vertigo washed over him as he found himself simultaneously with Susan Bones and fighting Amelia Bones. Tom closed his eyes and grit his teeth, forcing the connection closed again. "Bones, get those two out of here," he said.
The girl opened her mouth, probably to tell him she couldn't, and of course she couldn't or she already would have done so. Rather than wait, Tom snapped, "Kreacher!"
The elf popped into existence before him.
Tom gestured to the pair on the floor. "Get them to safety. I'll take care of the conscious one."
Kreacher cringed. "Kreacher cannot. Kreacher's magic is being -" The elf cut itself off. "Free elf Dobby! Come!" It snapped it's fingers with a weak burst of magic, and Tom suddenly understood both the current difficulty and the state of Grimmauld Place. Kreacher's magic was waning.
Dobby appeared and took in its surroundings. Kreacher's lip curled at the sight of the free elf, but it restrained its distaste and began to speak.
Tom ignored the elves and pulled Bones toward where he could feel Voldemort. "I'll cover you. You need to get her to me." He didn't wait to see if she understood, casting a flame-freezing spell on the both of them and striding out of the house onto the lawns in front of their manor.
This was a terrible time for him to meet Voldemort. He hadn't yet decided what, precisely, he intended to do with the man, but none of his current plans involved actually killing him. Voldemort, of course, would feel no hesitation over killing Tom, so it made things quite difficult. Even so, Tom's lips spread into a grin, heartbeat accelerating as he withdrew his wand and flicked his first curse toward his counterpart. "Bombarda." Just a friendly opening to let the man know a new opponent had appeared.
There was a quick moment where Voldemort's features twisted in surprise before fury overtook him. "Potter!" he snarled. "You -"
Tom didn't wait. Analyzing Potter's interactions with Voldemort had shown him something: he talked far too much. It was like he was some storybook villain, feeling the need to monologue before, during, and after every fight. So Tom would take advantage of that.
Blood boiling, bowel exploding, entrail expelling, heart stopping, breath stealing… Curse after curse flew from his wand and toward Voldemort. The skeletal man blocked some and batted away others, then returned even more in the space between breaths.
The ground exploded around Tom. He shielded himself from the worst of it and ignored the rest. He caught Bones out of the corner of his eye, nearly to her aunt, and sent a series of shields in their direction in between his own curses and protections. Voldemort didn't seem to care about the pair anymore though. All his focus was on Tom. Tom smirked in satisfaction, even as his head pounded with the effort of keeping Voldemort out.
"Potter!" Voldemort shouted again. This time though, there was curiosity hidden in the fury. "Not as light as you pretend?"
Tom wondered if the real Harry Potter would argue back and cast a piercing curse.
"Harry!" Bones's voice was right behind him now. Tom didn't hesitate. He cast a flurry of short, annoying hexes interspersed with fatal curses toward his counterpart. He spun, grabbed both Bones and her aunt's arms, and Apparated straight through Voldemort's wards and to the front step of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
"What - how did you do that?" Madam Bones asked.
Tom glanced at her. She appeared fine. Her niece, however, did not. She was shaking, eyes wide and unseeing. "Bones… Susan, are you alright?"
The strawberry blonde shook her head minutely. "Hannah. Hannah is…"
Tom's eyes narrowed. The girls had performed the ritual with each other. It was no horcrux, but still, their souls should be bound to each other, even if only loosely. "Wait here," he said, even as the door opened to reveal Black.
His godfather immediately handed both women slips of paper, and they gasped as magic let them perceive the townhouse. Tom glanced at Black. "The other two?"
"Dumbledore's with them in the twins' room. He said the Secret just in case, but the boy's still unconscious and the girl…"
Tom cursed under his breath. "Muggle rescue breathing. Do you know it?" he asked Susan.
The girl's eyes were full of unshed tears as she shook her head. "No, why? What does -"
Tom cut her off. There wasn't time, if there was even a chance to begin with. "Come with me." As they climbed the stairs, he spoke quickly. "It's a muggle technique for keeping the body alive until help can get there. You'll need to tilt her head back, pinch her nose, then breathe out into her mouth. Wait five seconds, then repeat. Keep doing that until she either starts breathing or I tell you to stop."
Bones nodded sharply. "Okay." Though her voice trembled, her movements became crisper, determination and a bit of hope steadying her.
They entered the room, and Susan ran to her friend and started doing exactly as he'd told her. Tom looked to Dumbledore. "Is Madam Pomfrey on her way?" he asked.
The headmaster nodded. "She should be here any -"
The Hospital Wing matron bustled in and set down a bag of potions. She took one look at her two patients. "Oh," she breathed. Her mouth pressed into a hard line. "Well done, Miss Bones. Continue with that just a little longer." The Mediwitch went to work, casting spell after spell, until suddenly Abbot coughed and gulped in air and, after another cough, started breathing on her own again.
Susan looked up at Tom with wide eyes. "She's - I could feel -"
Tom nodded. "She's alive because of you," he said. He glanced at MacMillan. "They both are. You were very clever and very brave." He meant it. She'd taken a chance by attempting to activate her mark, and it had paid off. He smiled. "Well done, Susan."
She beamed at him, then returned to watching her friends.
Dumbledore spoke up from beside him. "May I ask what you had Miss Bones doing? Madam Pomfrey seemed surprised but pleased."
Tom nodded tightly. "It's a muggle technique for if someone's breathing stops. It keeps oxygen going to the person's body."
Dumbledore stroked his beard and nodded. "Impressive. Thank you, my boy. You did well in bringing them here." He glanced over at Tom, blue eyes twinkling in amusement. "May I ask how you knew Miss Bones was in need of help? Or how you managed to reach her, for that matter?"
Tom froze. Then he smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. "Well, Hermione and Ginny and me… we thought that, you know, a lot of what Voldemort did was horrible, but some things seemed useful. I'm not sure we got it exactly the same, but we made something like a mark. A Phoenix Mark because, you know, that's like the opposite."
Dumbledore looked at him speculatively. "I see. And through this mark, Miss Bones was able to summon you to her side?"
Tom nodded. "Yeah." He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and hoped Dumbledore couldn't see his pulse racing.
The moment passed. "Well, I would prefer it if you had sought adult advice before performing such a complex and potentially dangerous spell on your fellow students, but… It does seem to have turned out quite well, doesn't it?" Dumbledore smiled gently at Tom. "May I see it? The mark, I mean."
Susan appeared at his side. "Here, Headmaster," she said shyly, pulling up her sleeve.
Dumbledore studied it, tilting his head this way and that. "It does look like a phoenix, doesn't it?" he mused. "But if I tilt my head…" He laughed and shook his head. "Thank you for indulging an old man's curiosity, Miss Bones." With that, he left.
Tom sighed and sat down to watch Madam Pomfrey work. As he watched, his mind spun through the possibilities this event might have revealed. On one hand, rescue breathing was a perfectly valid muggle technique, so it was entirely possible that this was nothing more than good timing. On the other hand, Susan's reaction suggested that she felt Hannah die. In that case, it was possible that the girl's bonds managed to keep her soul tethered to the mortal realm long enough for Madam Pomfrey to resuscitate her body.
In other words, a light form of horcrux. Less effective, most likely, or with other drawbacks, because Tom hadn't found any mention of it in all his quest for immortality, but still a start. Something he might build upon. After all, if you couldn't find a spell to do something, you merely had to make one yourself. In the meantime, he wondered if it might be possible to engineer other 'deaths' in order to gather more data. Not every member of his study group who had performed the ritual with someone had taken his mark, so he still had options that avoided reducing his side's numbers. He'd also need to contact Neville. The boy was also bound to Hannah, so if he'd felt her die, Tom would know that wasn't just Susan's imagination.
Later, after both her friends had been fully checked over by Madam Pomfrey and Amelia Bones had been inducted into the Order, Susan entered the library, where Tom sat reading.
"Hey," she said quietly, sitting down next to him.
Tom nodded. "Hey."
Susan took a steadying breath. "Earlier, when you first arrived…" She glanced at him, then away. "Your eyes. They turned… Well, first they were red, and then they were dark, dark brown, almost black. When we got back here, they were green again but…" Her eyebrows drew up as she looked back at him. "What was that?"
Tom blinked. That was interesting, he supposed. "I have a connection to him," he said. "Through my scar. It's how I was able to go through his wards, but it also means I get pulled into his head if I'm not careful. I think most likely being so close to him strengthened the connection more than usual."
"Oh." Susan swallowed. "That… that sounds horrible. Having a connection to him like that."
To his surprise, Tom didn't feel particularly insulted by that. "It's painful and annoying, but it's nothing I can't handle."
Susan tilted her head, eyes lighting up in sudden understanding. "Is that what happened during the History OWL?"
Tom smiled wryly. "Yeah. He was trying to trick me into going to the ministry to retrieve the prophecy for him, since he and I are the only ones who can touch it." Tom sighed at the memory. "It was so poorly executed, I'm kind of offended he thought I'd fall for it." Well, if he'd actually been a fifteen-year-old Gryffindor he might have, but there was a difference between assuming your opponent requires less than your best and actually giving less effort. Voldemort had gotten lazy.
That mystery solved, Susan smiled and stood. "Well, Auntie and I will be staying here for a few days while we figure out how he was able to find our manor and break through the wards so easily. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to leave, then suddenly spun back around, ran to him, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you so much. I don't know that I could've survived losing Hannah." Just as quickly, the Hufflepuff left the room.
Tom gave a full body shiver, feeling vaguely ill at the contact, and returned to his book.
AN: I personally don't know CPR or rescue breathing in the first place, so that was all internet research followed by adjustment for what someone who only sort of knew it might say. Apparently the whole technique was known by the 1950's, but not many people had thought to put it together (breathing and chest compressions), so I assume Tom would be more likely to know just about the breathing.
To Disappointed: Unfortunately, you reviewed as a guest, so I can only respond in this way. I'm glad you liked the first eight chapters so much. It's frustrating when a story you're reading goes in a direction you can't enjoy. I hope you'll continue to let authors know when that happens, because that's important feedback.
However, saying that the author has something wrong with them mentally because they went a route you didn't like is both unnecessary and counterproductive. After all, someone who tells me "I was enjoying your story, but I just can't see Hermione figuring out Tom's identity from the owl treats alone," says to me that I did a poor job of showing my thought process, so I need to work on that. On the other hand, when you say "I was enjoying your story, but I just can't see Hermione figuring out Tom's identity from the owl treats alone, so you must've been high when you wrote that" introduces an additional part that distracts from your point. It doesn't add any information, and it makes me far more likely to dismiss your opinion, simply because that last part is what will stick with me the most.
I realize you're almost certainly not reading this note, but on the off-chance you kept reading a story you dislike, I hope you'll try to be more constructive next time you review a story.
