AN: This chapter marks the end of the "set up" phase. After this, all the important plot points should be hinted at if not introduced outright and things between Tom and Harry should start to progress at a faster pace.
Early Thursday, the cooling charms on the house's south facing windows failed. By mid-morning, all the rooms on that side of the house were sweltering. Harry grabbed his Encyclopedia of Household Spells and headed outside to set about fixing them.
Two hours later he was still outside, and in a very poor mood.
Harry snarled wordlessly at the book clenched in his hand. The six pages that covered cooling charms were crinkled from two hours of being clutched in his sweaty fist, but he had absolutely nothing to show for his morning in the sweltering July sun. Useless book. He tossed the thing to the ground. It bounced and skidded to a stop several meters away, open and face down. Several of the pages were likely bent. Harry didn't care. He turned his glare from the book back to the house.
None of the spells listed for diagnosis of this particular problem had turned up a thing. Re-charming the windows without getting rid of any lingering shards of the old spell first could cause him even bigger problems, like windows that shattered with the next drastic weather change.
Harry wanted very badly to use a blasting hex on the nearest tree.
Instead, he raked his fingers over his scalp forcefully and went to retrieve the book. He brushed off the dirt and smoothed out the bent pages, closing the book and squeezing the covers together in an attempt to get rid of some of the creases. He wondered if there was a charm for that. He'd have to check. He opened the book again. The pages flopped open to the cooling charms section.
Harry stared at the text for a moment, not really reading it. He could most likely quote the section by heart at this point. Merlin, he sounded like Hermione. His eyes refocused on the book abruptly. He snapped it shut. There was nothing there he hadn't already read.
Deciding that heat and hunger were making him irritable he stomped inside to get himself a sandwich and something cold to drink. He'd go check the library after lunch to see if any of the other books they bought two days ago had anything more useful in them. He doubted it. Both current residents of Godric's Hollow were partial to Defense Against the Dark Arts; after choosing all they wanted on that subject there was very little money in his pocket for anything else.
Harry had just finished his meal when someone knocked on the front door. He frowned. No one but Gringotts and the orphanage had this address and the old Muggle-repelling spells were fully functional when he'd examined them just after moving in.
Tom, who had come in halfway through Harry's lunch with a book on Curses and Charms to Repel and Attract Dark Creatures in hand, glanced up from his own mostly eaten sandwich but made no move to answer the door.
Tom still refused to help Harry cook, or to do any chores whatsoever. However, after missing dinner the night of their argument and breakfast the next morning, he snuck into the kitchen when Harry wasn't in the house and made himself lunch. The clatter of dishes carried easily through the partially open window to Harry in the back yard. Harry let himself grin when Tom yelped and began to curse about manic silverware. Whoops. Perhaps he should have left that set elsewhere until he got rid of the biting hex.
Or perhaps not. It was, after all, much more entertaining to let Tom figure it out for himself.
Harry didn't say anything to Tom about it. Instead, with a smug sense of self satisfaction, he made dinner for them both that evening.
That wasn't to say that they hadn't found dozens of other ways to drive each other crazy in the interim.
The doorbell rang a second time. Tom turned a page of his book and kept reading.
Irritated, Harry stood. He wobbled and steadied himself on the back of a chair, letting go the moment he had his balance back. Damn his bloody knee anyway. It should be getting better by now, but Harry could almost swear it was slightly worse. Maybe he should take a few days break from his work cleaning up the grounds. He stalked from the room, trying not to feel Tom's dark eyes watching him leave.
He slipped through the living room, holding his wand down by his thigh and slightly behind him.
Harry didn't know who he was expecting to be on the other side of the door, but the familiar pair of twinkling blue eyes gazing down at him with grandfatherly kindness was like a douse of cold water and for one panicked moment, Harry froze.
There were very few people from his own time that Harry had to worry about running into. Albus Dumbledore was one of those few. But Harry had no plans to go to Hogwarts any time soon; he hadn't thought he would need to worry about seeing his once dead mentor for some time.
He barely caught it when the Professor began to speak.
"Good afternoon. Would you be Mr. Harry Potter?"
A hand grabbed his heart and yanked. Somehow his voice wasn't affected.
"Er, yes, that's me."
A smile twisted the still red beard. "Excellent. My name is Albus Dumbledore. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter."
"It's, ah, nice to meet you too, sir."
Dumbledore must have taken Harry's hesitation as confusion, because he hastened to explain his presence on the Potter's front porch.
"I am a professor at the school one Mr. Tom Riddle attends. It has just come to our attention that he is no longer at his previous home. I understand he has taken up residence here?" The last was phrased as a question and it snapped Harry out of his stunned stupor.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's right." Harry finally remembered his manners. "Would you like to come in?" He stepped back, pulling the door with him, and surreptitiously slipped his wand back into its pocket.
"Yes, thank you." The Transfiguration Professor stepped into the house, scanning the room swiftly. His eyes paused on the Encyclopedia of Household Spells that was sitting on the corner of the coffee table, where Harry had dropped it earlier.
Harry felt his cheeks redden. The book wasn't the only thing left lying around the room. The kitchen was one of the only rooms in the house that he bothered to keep clean. It was simply easier to cook in a clean kitchen, and the dishwashing charm he'd learned made it relatively simple to keep the kitchen tidy. What the Encyclopedia apparently lacked in reliable information on cooling charms it made up for in cooking and cleaning spells. Still, that didn't mean Harry wanted anyone else seeing a book obviously meant for housewives and he scolded himself for leaving it in so obvious a location.
He waved his hand at the book, sending it to its place on the shelf by the fireplace, and turned to invite his guest to sit down only to find those piercing blue eyes studying him intently. For a moment Harry wasn't sure why. Once he realized what he'd just done, wandless and wordless magic, he nearly groaned aloud. He'd caught himself casting small wandless spells more and more often lately and had no idea where they were coming from. He had never been proficient in wandless magic before.
The blue gaze drifted upward, towards his forehead, and Harry nearly panicked again. But the man's eyes did not go to his scar. Instead they stopped on the shock of white hair at his temple. Harry turned away before the former-yet-to-be Headmaster could see anything else.
His hair was a bit longer now, which made it no less unruly, but most of the time it did cover his scar completely. He doubted his hairstyle, or lack of one, made any sort of good impression in this time period, but better that than excessive questions about his scar. He didn't want anyone recognizing it for what it was.
He quickly cleared a seat for the Professor, scooping a pile of parchment off one of the ancient armchairs and depositing it on the couch.
"If you want to sit down I'll bring us some tea, Professor," he offered politely, carefully not meeting the man's gaze for more than an instant. Hiding behind formality seemed the best way to go. He could do formality without breaking down into a nervous wreck. He hoped.
Harry slipped into the kitchen, passing Tom at the door. He began assembling a tea tray and listened intently as the future Headmaster and his ward- adoptive son- brother- whatever- exchanged the required pleasantries.
"Tom, how are you, my boy?"
"Quite well, sir." Tom's voice all but oozed cool, reserved politeness.
Harry smiled to himself grimly and tapped the teapot with his wand. Steam shot out of the spout instantly. He was getting better at these; when he tried that spell yesterday he nearly boiled away the entire contents of the pot.
"Good, good. The staff was quite concerned when we learned that you were no longer at the orphanage." Tom didn't answer. "You were adopted, yes?"
"Yes." Tom did a good job of compacting the word obviously into a single syllable.
Harry dumped a small pile of biscuits onto the tray.
"Congratulations." Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't heard the shortness of Tom's answer. "I am most happy for you. Although I must admit some surprise that you allowed yourself to be taken from the orphanage by an unknown man."
Harry winced. "It all happened a bit quicker than I expected." Harry said as he stepped into the living room, tea tray in hand. He set it down on the coffee table before continuing. "I assumed the school would be notified of the adoption through the orphanage. The paperwork is most likely taking longer than it would in the magical system."
"Why are you here, Professor?" Tom cut back in.
"Hogwarts is in the habit of checking up on its students when they have a change in living arrangements, Mr. Riddle."
"Riddle-Potter," Tom corrected sharply. Harry wondered if he should be worried at the spark of warmth that he felt when Tom claimed Harry's name aloud.
"Pardon?"
"It's Riddle-Potter now."
"Ah, yes, of course. My apologies, Mr. Riddle-Potter."
Tom nodded. "Don't forget," he said and abruptly left the room. Harry blinked after him. He'd forgotten how sharp the boy was when speaking with Dumbledore. He didn't speak to Harry that way. Or perhaps Harry had just gotten accustomed enough to it that he no longer noticed when it was directed at him.
As usual, Dumbledore hardly seemed fazed. He fixed himself a cup of tea, waving aside Harry's stuttered offer to do it instead. "It has been quite some time since I've been on the Potter grounds. I must say, this house was not nearly so well protected then. The wards are quite impressive. Did you do them yourself?"
From anyone else, that question would have been downright rude; Harry was pretty sure that such a comment went completely against wizard etiquette. For Dumbledore, though, he didn't mind replying. "Er, no. Not all of them, anyway. Mostly I just did improvements on what was already there. There are a couple more I want to put up but I thought I should get Tom settled in first."
"Ah. Still, impressive."
Harry fidgeted with his teacup. The wards might be impressive, but what kind of wizard was he if he couldn't even fix an old cooling spell?
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry nearly spilled hot tea all over himself.
"I suppose you are curious as to the reason for my presence in your home?"
"Ah, well, I assumed it would be to go over the details of, um… Tom and, er…"
The heat in his face had to be because of sunburn. It just had to be.
Dumbledore smiled.
"I am here to make sure you are aware of the details of Tom's education. Had you been a Muggle, this would, of course, include an introduction to the magical world here in England. Normally his Head of House would do this but as I have had contact with his previous residence Headmaster Dippet sent me. We try to limit the number of magical folk Muggles come into contact with in such situations, you understand."
Harry nodded. He straightened slightly as a thought wound its way past the swirling mess in his head. "Uh, how did you know that Tom had been adopted if the orphanage hadn't contacted you yet?"
"A good friend of mine works in Diagon Alley. He is aware that Mr. Riddle-Potter had no known family and was naturally a bit surprised when he saw young Tom on Tuesday with a man he thought looked remarkably like a brother or cousin."
Harry started. He didn't think he and Tom looked that alike. They both had dark hair, but that was where the resemblance ended, right?
"He contacted the school and the Headmaster asked me to speak with Mrs. Cole. Imagine my surprise upon discovering that Tom had been adopted by a man who was, by all available evidence, a wizard, and one going by a name most British wizards thought to be quite gone."
Here Dumbledore fixed Harry with an expectant look.
Harry winced. He did not want to lie. Aside from the fact that this was Dumbledore, a man whose death still stung, he doubted he would be able to put an outright fabrication past any accomplished Legilimens.
He would have to go with the half truth that his explanation to Tom was based upon. Hopefully Dumbledore would not require too many details.
Yeah, right.
Dumbledore shifted and Harry realized he was taking too long to answer the question in the Professor's last sentence. He steeled himself. He was a Gryffindor. He could do this.
He lifted his head, in his determination to answer forgetting, for a moment, that he was also trying not to be Legilimized. They locked eyes. The brush against his mind came immediately.
What he did not expect was for something within his own mind to respond. Without conscious thought barriers he didn't know he had snapped into place.
For a moment, everything in the living room went absolutely still.
Dumbledore blinked. The connection broke. Just like that, the barriers slipped away again. Harry was left reeling. Since when did he know Occlumency? He stayed as far from the practice as possible after those horrid lessons with Snape, no matter Hermione's insistence that it was an easily exploited weakness.
Did this mean Harry was a Legilimens as well? He had no idea.
The Professor was watching him closely. His expression was not exactly hostile, but there was a level of suspicion in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Legilimency must be seen with about as much favor here as it was in his own time and place.
Harry's eyes sought out the window. Brilliant sunlight streamed across the floor. Harry was thankful that those particular cooling charms were still in place.
He didn't blame the man for being suspicious, but that didn't stop it from hurting.
Dumbledore spoke first. "There are not many people familiar with such magic."
"Learning it was necessary," Harry managed, still dazed. "I- circumstances required me to be active in the war." There, no outright lie.
On the mantle, Hermione's book began to flash bright yellow.
Harry was infinitely grateful for the distraction. He shifted his teacup, which had somehow remained steady in his hand throughout the exchange, to his left hand and drew out his wand. He flicked it at the mantle and the alarm turned itself off. Harry put his wand away and took a sip of his tea, re-centering himself.
"It's a silent alarm for the library. Tom just took a fourth year level book. He's going faster than I thought he would. The stuff he was reading at lunch wasn't any higher than third year."
And apparently Harry was incapable of speech that did not involve stuttering or babbling.
"You are not worried of the possibility of him hurting himself or those around him? Advanced magic is dangerous without proper knowledge of the basics."
"He can't get into any of the books he won't be able to understand and use safely."
"You are sure of this?"
Harry shot him a look. He blushed the instant he realized what he'd just done and hurried to reply. "That's how they're warded. I wouldn't leave advanced books around the house with no protection but a silent alarm."
"Warding every book in your library must have taken quite some time."
"Not really." Not since the spell was cast on the shelves, not the individual books. It was one of Hermione's finds, a modified automatic classifying charm. They'd accidentally turned it into a selective ward when a few too many people tried to adjust it at the same time.
It was very handy so long as he didn't forget to put away the books; the charm didn't affect things left lying on chairs or tables around the house.
"You seem to know your wards quite well," Dumbledore commented in an offhand fashion.
"Yeah. I… had a chance last year to spend some time studying them in depth. Even got some pointers from a professional Curse Breaker. Learned a lot."
"What a wonderful opportunity."
"Mmm," Harry muffled his reply with a quick sip of tea. It was cold. He sent a warming charm through the cup. Wandless again. It hardly took any effort now.
Under different circumstances, learning the tricks of Bill Weasley's trade would likely have been interesting. At the time Harry was far more concerned with finding and destroying the Horcruxes. Hermione, however, insisted she could not be the only one well versed in the measures Voldemort could have taken when protecting his soul shards. As per usual, Harry and Ron found it far easier to just give in to her wheedling.
A shoe scuffed lightly in the dark hallway. Harry ignored it. Dumbledore, sitting further from the door, either didn't hear it or pretended not to.
"You seem rather young to be as involved in recent events as you have made it sound thus far."
"My parents were fairly active in certain parts of the war. Not here, but… elsewhere. That danger carried over to me."
"Surely your parents provided you with protection of their own?"
An ugly mass of emotion roiled in his chest. Coming from Dumbledore, that question was nearly as bad as being asked his name.
"They died when I was young. I was hidden with my Muggle Aunt. She didn't like magic much. The house was warded, so yes, I had that protection, but I couldn't stay there all the time." He laughed a bit. "Actually, I left as soon as I was able. Ended up traveling a lot. So I had to be able to take care of myself."
"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that living among Muggles was such an unfortunate experience for you."
"Well, yes, but that's not to say I hate them!" Harry could not afford a misunderstanding with Dumbledore on this point. "One of my best friends, Hermione, was Muggle-born. She was brilliant."
"That is good to hear. You are no longer in contact?"
"No," Harry said, an edge to his voice that he hadn't intended. These questions were less than comfortable. "There is no one is left for me to be in contact with. That's part of the reason I decided to try and settle down here." Hopefully that would put a temporary end to the questions about his past.
"My apologies," and a bit of the suspicion faded from his old professor's eyes. Harry breathed deeply, a little startled when it made him feel light headed. He hadn't realized he'd all but stopped breathing.
Dumbledore straightened and the stifling atmosphere shifted.
"Perhaps we should move back to the main purpose of my visit. There are certain financial issues I should mention. Tom's tuition and supplies have been provided for by Hogwarts up until now.
"As Tom was still under the guardianship of the orphanage when such matters were being settled for next term, his tuition is covered through next Christmas. After that, though, you will need to submit papers regarding your financial status if you wish to apply for any further scholarships. You will, however, be asked to pay for his school supplies."
Harry nodded his ascent.
After that, the conversation was easier. Harry asked the little questions about the school that he was expected to and Dumbledore answered them.
Still, Harry sighed in relief when the Professor was gone and the door safely shut.
His mind was awhirl with thought. The suspicion was troubling but not entirely unexpected, considering Dumbledore's opinion of who Harry Potter, come out of nowhere and claiming a Pureblood inheritance, had adopted. But there was something else Dumbledore said that stood out in Harry's mind. He snatched the picture of himself and Ginny off the mantle and ran to the downstairs bathroom.
The lights came on with a wave of his hand. He looked rapidly from the picture to his reflection. Was his skin actually paler? He'd spent a good portion of the last few weeks outside in the sun; he should be started on a decent tan. And good grief, some of his features did look different. His face was… flatter, and narrower. It was hardly noticeable unless one looked for it but… it was there.
His breathing hitched and the picture frame clattered as it tumbled into the sink.
He looked as though he could actually be blood related to Tom Riddle.
He remembered the sick look on Ron and Hermione's faces when their suspicions about the last Horcrux were confirmed… the weeks upon weeks of preparation… the wrenching, tearing feeling in his head as he shouted the unforgivable incantation and high pitched laughter turned into a scream of agony…
Gone! The Horcrux was supposed to be gone!
But then, Hermione had reminded him over and over of the risks involved with their plan…
"This might not work, Harry, we're trying to recreate impossible circumstances without all the elements-"
"The circumstances weren't impossible, Hermione. They happened. And this isn't the same thing; I'm getting rid of a piece of trash that never belonged to me, not trying to tear my own soul to shreds."
Neither he nor Hermione ever really won that argument, but in the end it didn't matter. They couldn't find any other way and it had to be done. But Hermione was right, it hadn't worked entirely. There was still a piece of it in him. And if it was affecting his appearance then who knew what else it was changing?
One of Harry's hands found its way to his forehead and pressed down on his scar.
Voldemort was gone; of that he was sure. He felt it when the killing curse he cast at Voldemort used the Horcrux inside him instead of tearing away a chunk of his own soul. He'd felt the connection between them snap milliseconds before everything else went to hell. There was no way Voldemort could survive off a fragment of a Horcrux in another time and dimension entirely. Voldemort was gone; his friends were safe.
Harry swallowed hard as yet another chunk of the miniscule hope of going home dropped away. There was no way he could go back now… not if there was still a piece of Voldemort inside of him. He couldn't chance it. He couldn't do that to his friends and surrogate family.
Now if only Harry knew what was happening to him.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Harry shot to his feet and swayed, dizzy from the sudden movement. When had he dropped to the floor?
Tom appeared in the doorway Harry had been in no mind to close.
"What was he here for?"
He, as in Dumbledore. The only person Harry ever referred to in such fashion was Voldemort. Harry swallowed back a wave of bile.
"Like you weren't listening in." Temper. Voldemort had a short temper. But so did Harry. It didn't mean anything. "It's a routine checkup when students switch households, apparently. They want to make sure the new family knows everything about the school that they should."
Tom's eyes darted from Harry's too pale face to the picture in the sink. Harry scooped up the photo and fled the room before Tom could say anything more.
End Chapter
Whew. Longest chapter yet. Hopefully I've answered some questions and raised others.
Dumbledore is perhaps a bit cliché for Harry's first "previous life" run-in but I needed him to be the one to visit from Hogwarts. I tried to insert Slughorn into the last chapter but it was just not working. He will most likely be making an appearance at some point, though. As will McGonagall. And Hagrid, if I can figure out where to put him.
Comments are lovely… and if anyone catches grammatical mistakes or Americanisms I would be most grateful if you'd let me know so they can be gotten rid of.
