Year 6: Chapter Four
Hermione sat primly on her bed, leaving Tom in a chair across the room. She crossed her arms, gnawing on her lower lip. "My parents love me," she said firmly at last. Then she closed her eyes and rolled her upper lip in, chewing on it now as though she'd rather not continue. Tom waited. His Hermione would never cower in the face of the truth for long. His patience was rewarded. "But… we have grown… distant. There's so much I can't tell them about our world, and so much more that they don't understand even if I try to explain. I tried to tell them about what you said, about how Magical Britain isn't just the magical section of Britain and the problems not knowing that had caused, and they just… I don't know. They didn't… It's not like they didn't believe me, but they… kind of didn't, at the same time." She looked frustrated by her own inability to put her feelings into words.
Tom gave her his gentlest smile. "You felt a disconnect between what that meant for you and what they felt that meant for you."
"Yes!" Hermione's smile was relieved. "How did you…?"
"I had the same problem, but… backwards, I suppose," Tom said bitterly. "Trying to explain to Dumbledore and Dippet that I lived in London, and I was… They just didn't - couldn't - understand. They'd never been there, and they didn't understand - they might have known about muggle war, but they hadn't experienced it. I doubt Dumbledore understands even now. He's going to show me 'Tom Riddle's' past, and it's going to all be through the filter of an old man who knows nothing."
"Tom…" Hermione's brows drew together in concern.
Tom shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just know that I do understand that feeling."
There was a long pause, Tom still lost in bitter memories and Hermione wondering if everything might have been different, had two old men simply understood muggle war a bit better. At last, Hermione sighed, uncrossing and recrossing her legs before smoothing her skirt nervously. "Anyway, I can't agree to stealing children from their parents. However," she stressed before Tom could begin to speak, "I understand that leaving children in those situations with no supervision is leaving room for magical children to be mistreated. Instead, I propose we meet with the parents as soon as a muggleborn child is identified. We explain the situation. If the parents wish, we will take the child. Otherwise, they'll have to allow their child's sponsor family to take the child for a period of time totalling roughly a quarter of the year cumulatively with the understanding that, should they be deemed unfit to raise a magical child, an investigation will begin that could well end in them losing their child."
That was a greater concession on her part than Tom had expected. He must have been more right than he knew about her relationship with her parents. "We'll need a means of ascertaining that the magical family is capable of attending to a muggleborn child as well," he said. "There would be no point in rescuing a child from one poor situation only to throw them into an even worse one." Some families, like the Malfoys, were practical and would be willing to accept the proposed change despite their views on muggles. Others, like the Notts, would be less so.
Later that day, his supposed birthday, Tom sat in his room brewing a potion. It would take him almost until school began again, and he'd had to send Kreacher for some of the ingredients, but when he was finished, Molly Weasley would (hopefully) be fixed. He'd just finished stirring and was setting it to simmer overnight when Black came in. The man barely glanced at the potion, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It's time for dinner!" he cried, throwing his arms wide. "With cake! Birthday cake! For you!"
Tom stared at his godfather and sighed heavily. "Coming," he muttered and trudged past Black.
Black followed him, still bouncing. "Where's your energy? You didn't stay up all night did you?"
"Sirius," Tom replied. "The house might explode if I added any energy to what you're already putting out."
When he entered the kitchen, everyone was already there, and the table was set with copious amounts of not just cake, but a dozen other desserts as well. Tom stared. "Where's the actual food?" he asked.
Black waved his hand carelessly. "Eh, one night eating nothing but dessert isn't going to hurt us."
Tom considered whether he had the ingredients to make a stomach soothing potion. He did, so he sat down and mustered up a weak smile for Black. "Thank you, Sirius," he said through gritted teeth.
Suddenly, the copious desserts exploded into confetti. Tom started, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste to escape the table, before realizing it wasn't an attack. He stared. In place of the sweets that had covered the table were just a few savory and a few light dishes. Tom glanced at Black, who was snickering. "What -"
"A prank," Luna supplied helpfully.
Tom blinked and looked back at the food. At last, a small smile touched his lips. All food he enjoyed, previously disguised as food he would rather avoid in general. Harmless, especially by Black's standards. The only dessert was something sticky with what looked like nuts and honey. "What's that?" he asked curiously.
Hermione answered. "It's baklava… I think. At least, that's what it's supposed to be. I thought it might appeal to you more than cake since you do eat a bit of honey on toast."
"You paid that much attention to what I eat?" he asked, surprised and a little alarmed.
Hermione blushed and shook her head emphatically. "That was Ginny, but she apparently isn't very good at following a recipe." She shot a look at the redhead, who shrugged unabashedly.
It was, indeed, a reasonably enjoyable dessert, Tom concluded after the meal finished. Then it was time for presents. Black handed him a form from Gringotts. When Tom unrolled it, his eyes widened. "Adoption?" he breathed, mind racing through the implications. What it would mean to accept, what it would mean to decline.
"There's no pressure, pup," Black said. "But I want you to know that I consider you just as much mine as you are James' and Lily's. If you want the Black name, it's yours. If not, that's fine. You're my heir either way."
For a moment, Tom's brain froze and a small, traitorous part of his mind lamented, If only this offer had been made when I was actually 16… He shook himself, forcibly slamming his Occlumency shields shut in a way he hadn't done in months. "Thank you, Sirius," he said smoothly with a pasted on smile. "I'd like some time to think about it, please."
Black looked far too horribly understanding, but he nodded without comment, so Tom let it go, feeling too brittle to pursue the topic further.
Ron came next, and the red-haired boy handed him an already opened Wizard Chess set. Tom raised an eyebrow. Ron smiled tightly. "It's a practice set my - my dad gave me when I was younger. It remembers the playstyles of people who've used it and recreates them for solo games." The boy scratched the back of his head nervously. "I've played Dumbledore on it a few times."
Tom took the set and smirked, relaxing at the surprisingly thoughtful and useful but emotionally neutral gift. "Thank you, Ron," he said. "I'm sure I'll get good use out of it."
To his surprise, Tonks had bought him something small: a tiny earring stud. Tom examined it critically, easily picking up the magical signature of a portkey. "I'm not piercing my ears," he said.
Tonks just laughed and held out her hand. "Figured," she said, rolling her eyes. "So it turns into a ring too." With a tap of her wand, the metal reshaped itself into a thin, silver ring. When she handed it back, Tom slid it onto his middle finger and held it up for her to see with a completely straight face. The metamorphmagus burst out laughing and grinned. "It's a portkey," she explained. "Say 'take me home,' and it'll bring you back here so long as you're not under Anti-Portkey wards."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "I'd have expected something a bit less bland from you," he commented.
With a shrug, Tonks stood and made to leave. "I didn't want to risk you refusing to use it. Now, I've got a twelve-hour shift tonight, so I'm gonna go get some coffee before work. G'night, and happy birthday Harry!"
Tom had to bite back a curse. He'd been planning to ask Tonks about performing the ritual with him. Once loyal follower or not, he had no intention of putting the fate of his soul in Bellatrix's hands again.
His other gifts came from Hermione and Ginny combined: a vial of Polyjuice potion and a book on muggle psychology. Hermione explained sheepishly, "We weren't really sure what you'd actually like to get, but we thought these would at least be useful."
Tom wasn't sure how muggle psychology was going to help him, but he smiled and thanked them anyway, because at the very least they'd saved him the time and hassle of making Polyjuice.
Last was his present from Luna, who slid into his lap and kissed him before handing him a rolled up sheet of parchment layered in illusions. Tom opened it to find a picture of himself - actually himself - with the others he'd bonded to, studying together on the edge of the Black Lake. He swallowed, feeling the brittleness from earlier creeping back in. "Thank you," he whispered before shooting a stinging hex at Black, who was trying to peek at the picture.
Since Tonks wasn't available, Tom spent the rest of the night working on the potion for Molly. It didn't require very many additional steps once the initial brew began simmering, but those steps that were required occurred at awkward intervals. As he worked, Hermione read quietly beside him while Ginny and Luna slept. "You aren't tired?" he asked curiously, settling down beside her once he'd finished for the time being.
The girl shrugged and sighed. "Luna says Tonks is better than Bellatrix," she said.
"...and?" Tom prodded at the bond, but the emotion he found through it - jealousy - made little sense, so he suspected he'd interpreted it incorrectly.
Hermione resolutely kept her eyes fixed on the book in front of her. "I mean, she's… you know. She's older."
Tom tilted his head curiously. "Yes. And Severus is even older than her."
With a huff, Hermione snapped the book shut, looking impressively annoyed. "You know what I mean." She paused, then rolled her eyes. "Really? You really don't?" Though she still sounded annoyed, her expression was a bit pleased. She took a deep breath. "I like you," she said matter of factly. "And Ginny and Luna are one thing, but Tonks is another."
Oh. Surrounded by other teenagers, Hermione seemed so mature that he sometimes forgot that, like them, she was a hormone-ridden student. Tom considered it. From a logical standpoint, Tonks was a significantly better partner than the girls around him, if he found himself desiring such. Of legal age, for one, but also useful in a variety of ways, from her abilities to her position within the Ministry. Even so… "I've never thought of her in that manner," Tom said truthfully. That wasn't to say he particularly thought of Hermione in that manner either, but attraction was too useful a tool to discard for a little thing like full disclosure.
"You should talk to her tomorrow or the day after then," Hermione said after a moment. "For now though, we should get to sleep."
Tom didn't get a chance to speak with Tonks the next day though. Early in the morning, Dumbledore appeared. He wore gaudy, glittery gloves for some reason, the colors bright enough that Tom actively avoided looking at them. "My boy," the old man said upon sighting Tom coming down for breakfast. "Just the person I was looking for."
Tom froze, then smiled brightly. "Sir?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It's nothing that won't wait for some food," he said cheerfully. "Or rather, I'd prefer to discuss this over breakfast."
Once everyone was present, save Molly, Dumbledore took a sip of pumpkin juice. "After Delores, I would rather avoid letting the ministry choose any more teachers. That is why I will be offering the defense position to Severus this year."
Had Dumbledore decided Severus had outlived his usefulness? Tom eyed the headmaster warily. "Who would teach potions then, sir?" he asked.
"Well, my boy, that's where I must ask for some of your time. You see, the man I intend to ask is a bit… unenthusiastic about the idea. He seems to think he'd be in danger if he came out of hiding, but truthfully, if I can find him, I'm certain Voldemort can as well. I was hoping you might help me convince him."
Tom cocked his head to the side. "Me?" He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Don't tell me he expects a teenager to do a better job protecting him than you would."
The headmaster laughed. "No, no, of course not. My hope is that his sense of, well, greed will tempt him to accept my offer. Horace enjoys collecting powerful, talented, and unique individuals."
Tom grimaced, both as Harry and as himself. Slughorn? The man was annoying, but he wasn't an idiot either. That would be one more person who knew Tom Riddle living within the castle. Unlike Dumbledore, who had very little contact with your average student, Slughorn would be in a position to keep a close eye on both Tom and his followers. "I see," he said at last. "Is that really the kind of person we should have teaching us?" It was a weak attempt at changing Dumbledore's mind, Tom knew, but from Dumbledore's perspective, Slughorn was perfect, so there wasn't much to be done. His protest was more about staying in character than any real belief it would have an effect.
Sure enough, Dumbledore waved away his objection and off they went. As they left, Dumbledore noted offhandedly, "I hear you've already mastered not just Apparition, but have Apparated directly through Voldemort's wards." He paused just long enough for Tom to begin scrambling for an explanation, then continued merrily, "I expect your unique ability to penetrate Voldemort's wards is a fortunate result of your connection, but as you are underage, I must ask that you refrain from Apparating unless it is an emergency."
"...yes, sir," Tom said, pointedly not letting out a relieved sigh.
Having said his piece, Dumbledore brought them both to a quiet neighborhood and a particularly ordinary looking stone house in particular. The door was not only unlocked but knocked off its frame, and Dumbledore paused, looking at it. "Oh dear," he murmured, drawing his wand and entering carefully. Tom pursed his lips and followed.
The inside was utterly destroyed. Furniture lay tipped over and torn apart, the stuffing from one particular couch trailing all the way down the hall. Shattered porcelain littered the floor alongside cracked but otherwise intact cups. The thick, plush carpet was stained with whatever had been inside the cups. Tom gave the scene a flat look and sighed. Slughorn couldn't have put very much thought into this.
Amid it all sat one rather rumpled but overall undamaged person pretending to be a chair.
Dumbledore canceled the poor attempt at a disguise, and the chair unfolded to reveal the disgruntled face of Tom's old Potions Professor. "Ah, there you are. A good morning to you, Horace."
The large man with a walrus-y sort of look to him scowled at Dumbledore. "The answer's no, Albus. I won't do it, no matter how much you badger me about it."
Dumbledore affected a wounded look. "Horace, do you truly think I would refuse to respect your wishes? I merely wanted to bring Mister Potter around to meet one of his mother's favorite instructors since he won't be getting the chance to do so during the school year. I thought you might like to tell him some stories about Lily."
Though he hated himself just a bit for it, Tom put on a shining expression of wonder, using the way some other orphans had looked at receiving Christmas presents one year from a charity as his reference. "Really? Did you really know my mother, sir?" he asked in his most eager voice.
Slughorn looked taken aback, and after a moment he slumped and slid his wand from his sleeve. With a few swishes, the room put itself to rights, and the man gestured toward the couch. For himself, he conjured a chair much like the one he'd been pretending to be. "Of course. Miss Evans was one of my brightest students. Losing her was… The day I learned of her death was one of the worst in my life."
Tom blinked, taken by surprise. He hadn't expected the man to be so candid. It wasn't typically the done thing in Slytherin to leave one's heart so vulnerable. "You taught Potions, right?" he asked after a pause. "Was she good at it?"
"Good? Oh heavens, yes!" Slughorn smiled mistily, and Dumbledore took the opportunity to withdraw from the room. "Lily and Severus. I never saw a more talented pair. Of course, your father was no slouch either, but those two were something special. A good number of the staff thought they'd marry one day, but the timing was poor for that relationship. And a good thing for it too, because had they not fallen out with each other, you might not have been born." The man chuckled into his hand.
"Several people accused your father of using a love potion when Lily first started dating him, you know. He was so offended that he asked me to make Veritaserum so he could prove his innocence. I refused, of course, but somehow he got his hands on the recipe and convinced Miss Evans to brew it for him." Slughorn said this with a tad too much innocence, leaving no doubt as to how James Potter obtained the instructions for a restricted potion. "And so he took it and had young Sirius Black interrogate him during lunch in front of a good portion of the school. Of course, he didn't count on Mister Black adding some more… interesting questions, but the end result was that everyone finally accepted his relationship with Miss Evans."
Tom glanced toward the hall Dumbledore had disappeared down, just a quick flick of the eyes when Slughorn wasn't looking, but he saw no sign of the headmaster. He returned his attention to Slughorn. "What do you think, sir?" he asked, mildly curious at the possibility that he and Potter were alike in yet another way. "I mean, I know he said he used Veritaserum, but surely he could fake it."
The professor settled back in his chair thoughtfully. "James Potter absolutely took Veritaserum, and he absolutely did not use a love potion on Lily Evans. Courts would never be able to admit testimony submitted under Veritaserum if its effects were so easy to mimic. However," he added with a twist of his lips, "that doesn't mean no one else did."
"Sir?" Tom asked quickly.
Slughorn sighed heavily. "I won't lie to you, Mister Potter. I was one of those who suspected foul play when your mother and father first started dating. Not only was your mother's sudden change of attitude suspicious, James's immediate and unwavering obsession with Lily was concerning as well. If you told me someone else had dosed the both of them, I'd have been tempted to believe you." He shook his head and smiled. "But there is absolutely no evidence, so with both of them gone, it's best to assume they were exactly as in love as they seemed to be." Slughorn nodded to himself. "You may wonder why I bring this up. It's hardly a pleasant idea, and as I said, it's no use speculating now."
"Why did you then?" Tom asked.
"Because, Mister Potter," Slughorn said, "I want to emphasize the following. If nothing else, I can guarantee you that both of them loved you more than life itself, and they loved you unconditionally. Even had they lived, and even had their relationship turned out to have been built on nothing but potions, they would have loved you exactly the same way. That was the sort of people they were."
Tom felt a surge of jealousy toward Potter followed by a sharp sting behind his eyes. He grit his teeth and nodded jerkily. "Thank you, sir," he said, as it was one of those things you said, even though it certainly wasn't a conversation he felt thankful for.
To his relief, Dumbledore appeared then, placing one gloved hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid we must be going," he said apologetically. "I hope you had a pleasant visit," he inquired of Tom.
Tom hid his grimace as he stood and followed the man. "Of course, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Wait."
They both stopped just before the front door and turned to look at Slughorn. The man sighed and glared at Dumbledore. "I'll do it."
Somehow, Dumbledore managed not to gloat. It was a maddening ability Tom had never mastered, though he saw little point in it and accordingly put little effort toward learning it. Dumbledore opened the door and ushered Tom outside. "Thank you, Horace," he said. "I will see you soon then. I trust you remember the usual beginning of year procedures."
Slughorn scowled and waved them away. "Yes, yes, now leave before I change my mind. Oh, and Mister Potter?"
Tom looked back again.
"It was a pleasure meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your summer, and please stay safe."
Tom nodded shortly. "Of course," he said with a more genuine smile. For all that he found Slughorn annoying, the man was one of the few professors who had actually cared for his students. He'd asked after Tom's safety before and after each summer break, and he'd turned a blind eye toward Tom's more questionable activities within the Slytherin dorms, understanding the difficulties of being a halfblood in the house of the pure. It was the only reason the man was still alive, knowing about his interest in horcruxes as he did. "I look forward to your class."
Once they'd returned to Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore disappeared again, but Tonks was there, sitting at the table and scowling at Hermione. From Hermione's drawn brows and pursed lips to Tonks' vividly red hair and sudden glare upon noticing him, Tom had the instant understanding that this was going to be a huge pain.
"Harry, luv, Hermione tells me that you had something you wanted to ask me?" Tonks asked, tone sweetly dangerous.
With a sinking feeling, Tom slid into the chair beside Hermione. "Yes," he said calmly. "What of it?"
"I'd like you to explain it to me in your own words. Now."
Tom's eyes narrowed. This didn't seem like Tonks. Yes, the ritual could be seen as some sort of teenaged sexual fantasy, but surely Hermione would have explained why it was – He froze, realizing that they'd overlooked something vital. Tonks, as an Auror, was someone they couldn't tell his true identity. Without that, there was no way to explain what made the ritual necessary. He cast a glance at Hermione, who miserably shook her head. He closed his eyes in resignation. They should have realized this sooner. He'd been complacent, what with how well everything had been going for him.
Tom opened his eyes again and looked at Tonks apologetically. "I'm sorry, Tonks. The ritual has so many benefits to us that we didn't stop to consider how it might seem to someone else."
Red hair lightened slightly. "Benefits?" the woman asked skeptically.
Hermione nodded eagerly. "That's what I was trying to tell you," she said. "It gives us a means of keeping track of each others' well-being, to a degree, even at the first level, and it gives a secure means of communication at the second level. I'm not entirely sure what happens at the third level, but I'm sure it will be beneficial as well."
Tom smiled sheepishly. "You're our friend, or at least I'd like to think so, and we just wanted to do what we could to help you stay safe."
Finally, Tonks's expression softened. She sighed. "I'm sorry. When Hermione explained the specifics of the ritual, I thought…" Her lips twisted. "Well, you wouldn't have been the first boy to try something weird for a chance with a metamorphmagus."
"I told you," Hermione said, pouting just a bit, "Harry isn't like that."
"Sure, sure," Tonks said and ruffled the younger girl's already messy hair. "You say that, but then he's got three girls sleeping in his bed each night, so forgive me if I find it hard to believe."
"You're not entirely wrong," Tom said. "I am interested in your abilities. How long does a transformation last? How much can you transform? Does transforming alter your interior as well? Is it like an animagus transformation, where you need a thorough understanding of the form you're taking, or like a werewolf transformation, where it happens without any knowledge necessary? How great of a change of mass can you effect? Do enchantments that cancel transformations affect it?" He smiled. "It's a fascinating ability."
"Alright," Tonks laughed. "I believe you. Still though, rituals like that don't interact well with the oaths we take as Aurors, so I have to decline anyway. Our oaths are pretty tightly worded, so even being a member of the Order is skirting the edges of what I can do."
"Okay," Tom said nonchalantly. "Sorry about the misunderstanding."
"No, I'm sorry. Hey, see you guys. I wanna see if I can catch Remus before he disappears again. Man's slipperier than gillyweed." Tonk pushed her chair back and sauntered out of the room, giving every impression of a lioness casually stalking her prey.
Tom groaned and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "Well fuck," he muttered.
"Language," Hermione said half-heartedly.
"I really don't want to use Bellatrix," Tom grumbled. "Isn't there…" He paused. "I have a letter to write."
Hermione was left staring after the teen as he rushed out of the kitchen.
AN: So like, remember I was all oh hey I have time to write now because holiday break is over for toddler's school? Well, next day they let me know they're closed because of a covid exposure. Then, when they finally opened again, I was on a ski trip, so no writing was getting done there. So now I'm finally back, and I have a static, so I don't need to be spending all of every night trying to get a pug group for pandy, and we're allllllllll good. …. Actually, no. I've had some difficulty with this last bond, mostly because I don't want to use Bellatrix, but I also didn't want to use Tonks, and it was driving me up a wall. Well, hopefully I'll navigate my way out of this well enough. Sorry for the long wait.
