She was smirking in that annoyingly infuriating Riddle way, despite not even being a Riddle from birth.
"Good afternoon, Tom."
Riddle's jaw pulsed once before he deigned to respond.
"Good afternoon, Lily."
The tall redhead continued to lean against the doorsill, raising one judgmental eyebrow at the general chaos of the room. Her eyes lingered on Harry's form for a split second before she looked back at Riddle with amusement.
"Entertaining guests? I'm impressed. I didn't think you had friends."
Harry stepped forward to introduce himself, but Riddle's warning glance stopped him in his tracks. Then Riddle's eyes shifted back to the woman, and his expression deepened into a poisonous glare. "He works for me."
Lily rolled her eyes, her long legs guiding her to a chair opposite of Riddle's desk. "Oh, well, never mind then. Like father, like son."
She grabbed a glass of water from the tray Bellatrix had left behind. "Don't worry, I won't be staying too long," she stated after a sip.
Riddle stepped away from the closet and sat back down at his desk. His lips were pressed against each other firmly, a clear sign of his displeasure. "Then get to the point and tell me why you're here. "
Harry quietly moved in the other direction, towards the shaded areas of the room. Things seemed tense; he didn't want to interfere in family business. Thankfully, it seemed the intimidating woman hadn't cared much for his presence.
Lily's eyes were now narrowed, her jaw resting stubbornly on her fist— classic Riddle posture. And it struck Harry then, that despite being Riddle's stepmother, she didn't look that much older than him. At max, maybe ten years older, but nowhere near Riddle Sr.'s age.
"Very well. Stop annoying Joanne." She sighed. "And for the love of god, stop trying to sue her just because she killed off your favorite character in the seventh book."
Harry's eyes widened at that. Was Riddle really… suing J.K. Roaring?
Riddle sneered. "Oh, yes. I forgot you two were best friends. Unfortunately, that doesn't earn her any points in my books."
Lily's green eyes flashed venomously. "I see. Does that mean you'd respond better to threats?"
Riddle bared his teeth menacingly. "Go ahead and try," he hissed.
Lily tilted her head defiantly, her lips beginning to part—
"It's because J. K. Roaring villainized Riddle," Harry interrupted, the details sprinkled in their conversation finally starting to sink in and piece together.
Riddle furrowed his eyebrows in Harry's direction, his tone low and warning. "Harry—"
Harry took a few steps in the direction of the woman, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Just to clarify, you're discussing J.K. Roaring, the author of the James Evans series, correct?"
"Harry—" Riddle tried again, but Lily shushed him.
"Go on." Lily crossed one leg over the other, gesturing with a hand.
Harry held his hands up. "Look, I'm a fan of hers. But everything from the main villain's name to his orphaned childhood is based on Riddle, so—"
"Are you sure about that?" she mused quietly.
"—It makes sense that Riddle would want to sue her given that she killed off the character based on him," Harry finished. He looked back at Riddle, and the furious look on his boss's face caused him to triple his talking speed. "It's confusing though, because you were her editor, so I'm wondering if suing her would negatively impact you, but—""
"Bloody hell— Harry Potter!" Riddle furiously stood up from the desk, and Harry flinched. Ah shit, here we go again. "For the last time, stay out of this!"
The sound of glass shattering against the wood floors stopped Riddle in his tracks. Harry's eyes darted quickly in the direction of the sound— only to settle on Lily's now standing form.
Lily was staring directly at him, Harry , with a look of pure shock. Her hands were no longer holding her glass, and shards of glass were strewn across the floor. But she paid them no attention.
"Harry… Potter? " Lily choked out, staring at Harry in disbelief.
Harry stared back at her, dumbfounded.
"Well, yeah."
She stared at Harry for a few more seconds, scrutinizing him closely. Then she seemed to give herself a shake, looking away abruptly with a mirthless chuckle.
"Sorry. It's just… you share a name with my dead son."
The room was still for a few seconds, before the clink of glass shards alerted them to the present safety hazard in the room.
"Do you mind cleaning up the mess you made," Riddle interjected, gesturing vaguely to the glass shards on the floor. "I wouldn't want anyone to get injured."
Harry gaped at Riddle, but Lily only glanced at Riddle with weak amusement. "Insensitive as ever. I doubt even glass shards would penetrate your exterior."
As the two began bickering once more, Harry ran a hand through his hair and began to stress. He didn't know what to make of this Lily person, and Riddle wasn't helping matters.
Riddle made eye contact with Harry right then and began to chuckle mockingly.
" What ," Harry bit out defensively.
Riddle came to Harry's side and began to pull at Harry's hair, causing him to yelp. "You've made a mess of your bangs, with the way they're sticking up in the air."
You're not exactly helping, Harry sassed internally, swatting at his boss's fingers with a frown of annoyance. While attempting to flatten his bangs himself, he noticed Lily's slow stare boring into the both of them. Harry stared back in confusion, bracing himself for an inevitable callout from the strict, no-nonsense woman—
She slowly began walking towards him, stepping over glass like it was nothing.
Harry held up his hands in a stopping motion. "Wait— ma'am, mind the gla —"
His words became incoherent as his cheeks were squished between the palms of two hands. Harry froze as two familiar green eyes stared back at him, wide and incredulous.
"It can't be… here, of all places…" Lily mumbled, her words nearly indecipherable. But her eyes weren't looking at his; they were caught on his forehead, no longer hidden by bangs.
She went completely still at the sight of his scar.
"Oh," Lily muttered numbly. "Oh my. It really is you."
Panicking, Harry looked at Riddle for help. But the other man seemed just as dumbfounded as him.
"I hadn't dared to hope… I didn't think I'd ever…"
Harry gripped the woman's wrist and tried to pull her hand away. "Ma'am?"
" Ma'am ," Lily repeated, her voice robotic and her face wiped blank of expression. "You don't recognize me." She stepped away, suddenly sounding very tired. "Of course not. Perhaps that's for the best. And maybe… maybe I'm completely mistaken."
"Er—" Harry didn't know what to say. Instead, he led her to another chair away from the shattered glass. "I'm sorry…?"
"But you have my eyes. And you really do look so much like James," Lily said quietly, putting a hand up to her head as she sat down. Her voice fell to somewhere in between a whisper and a mumble as she chanted, "Oh my god… oh my god… "
At that, Harry's blood ran cold. Now that was a name he'd heard plenty from the lips of his godfather.
"Wait… wait a second," Harry gasped. He kneeled down, putting his hands on the woman's shoulders and shaking her slightly. "Are you talking about my dad? Did you know him?"
Before he could hear an answer, Riddle stepped in front of him, crossing his arms. Harry tried to shove past him, but the man wouldn't budge. In fact, his boss wasn't even looking at him.
"You seem oddly fascinated with Harry." Riddle raised his eyebrows. "Comparing him to your dead son isn't very… logical though, is it?"
Lily stood up from her chair and walked forward until she was a few inches away from Riddle. At full height, when wearing her very pointed, dangerous stilettos, she was only a few inches shorter than her stepson.
"His presence here isn't very logical, either , " Lily said simply, her voice quiet and fatigued as she turned to stare at Harry once more. "And yet, there he is, in the flesh… my son, Harry James Potter."
The room seemed to freeze after that, as if under a spell… only to be broken by a slow, loud clapping that filled the air.
One final figure stepped into the room.
"Well, well. Looks like we're all finally united," Thomas Riddle Sr. said, smiling. "One big happy family."
Chaos ensued.
. . .
"You promised you wouldn't touch a hair on him," Lily said angrily, her voice hoarse from hours of screaming. "You promised—"
"And I haven't," Riddle Sr. said calmly as he picked up a serving plate. "Yet."
" YET?" Lily and Riddle exclaimed.
"I'm kidding. Harry, chicken?" Riddle Sr. offered.
"No thank you, sir," Harry replied quietly, his plate untouched. He hadn't had much of an appetite today, to be honest. Having dinner with his new Riddle family had shocked the hunger out of him.
"Harry… you should eat," Lily pushed, her voice softening with concern.
Harry stared back at her unflinchingly. "I'm fine. I don't need to be mothered when I've done just fine without one."
Another awkward silence filled the air, save for some coughing from Riddle Sr.'s direction. Lily glared at him before turning back to Harry.
"I'm sure you want answers—" Lily started.
"Actually, I'm not sure I do," he replied tersely, causing her to wince. "Why don't you go back to pretending I'm dead? Makes things easier, doesn't it?"
Another flinch. It almost made him feel guilty… almost.
Riddle snorted, provoking a glare from Lily which he pointedly ignored. "Well, I do. " He glared in his father's direction. "Especially from you."
Riddle Sr. finished chewing before putting his cutlery down, a charming smile creeping across his face. "Indeed, Tom. It is exactly as you have feared," he paused for dramatic effect, "Harry is your stepbrother and has legal claim to the Riddle inheritance."
As his boss broke out in a stream of profanity, Harry struggled to wrap his mind around the last few sentences.
A random inheritance? He hadn't even considered the possibility of receiving such a thing… hadn't even considered the possibility of his mother being alive when everyone had told him both of his parents died in a car crash long ago.
Harry put his fork down, the clink of cutlery jarring him from his silence.
A simmering rage began to take hold of him.
"I take it back. I do want answers." He glared at everyone around the table, one by one.
"Ask away, Harry," Riddle Sr. insisted.
"What happened to dying in a car crash, mother? " Harry asked quietly, scathingly emphasizing the last word. He could feel himself growing angrier with every word he spoke. "If you're alive, why are you here, with Mr. Riddle Senior? Is that why Uncle Sirius never mentions you, did you cheat? Why—"
"I would never ," Lily growled.
"—Why did you leave me, and with Aunt Petunia of all people? Were you ever planning—" Harry's voice began to grow thick, tears threatening to spill because he was the type to cry when he got mad, "—did you ever think of… of coming back for me?"
"Of course I wanted to! You have to understand, I left you because I had to !" Lily pleaded. Then, whipping around to glare furiously at Riddle Sr., she bore holes of fire into his skull. "You left him with Petunia ?"
"Why are you in freaking England? Since when?" Harry couldn't stop himself. Furious accusations kept pouring out of his mouth like vomit. "Why do you know the author of James Evans ? Why are we meeting now, after twenty—"
"She's your godmother," Lily butted in.
"—years when it doesn't even ma— wait— what the actual fuck ?"
Lily looked once at her husband and stepson, who remained oddly quiet, before turning back to Harry.
"Let me start from the beginning, Harry."
. . .
Your father and I got married straight out of high school. We were in love and— well, obviously it's not something I'd recommend, but— we had you right after we graduated.
Oh, Harry. You were just… the loveliest child.
"He's got your eyes, Lils," James said fondly, looking at the baby in his arms.
"And he's got your everything else," Lily replied grumpily. " Nine months of carrying him and he comes out looking exactly like you."
James laughed loudly, before leaning down to nudge his forehead affectionately against Lily's. "I love you." His gaze felt like the soft warmth of a candle. "Thank you for having him, darling."
Everything was perfect.
When you were one and half, we decided one of us had to go to college.
Lily smiled down at the giggling baby in her arms, watching his tiny hand curl around her pinky. "Shouldn't one of us stay home to take care of Harry?"
James sighed. "Ah, yeah, that's probably a good idea." He grinned. "Rock-Paper-Scissors for who has to stay?"
Lily shot him a look of exasperation.
In the end, we both found ourselves studying very hard in an effort to best the other and… well, we ended up going to Oxford and dragging you along with us.
"You're in this class too, Lily?" James asked, with a stupid little smirk.
Lily poked his forehead. "Dummy, we sent each other our schedules last week."
We even ended up studying the same major: Law and legal studies. Though for us, college ended up being more than just about studying; it was where we made some of our best friends.
"FUUUUUUCK!" A loud voice suddenly blurted from the opposite end of the law library. "WHY DID I PICK THIS MAJOR!"
"What a moron," Lily scoffed, "yelling in a library like tha—"
"I FEEL YOU, DUDE," James yelled back. "WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"
The guy looked back at him. "OH, I'M SIRIUS. WHAT'S YOURS—"
They ended up being kicked out of the library and, naturally, bonded over it.
Although James and his friends stopped frequenting the library afterwards for… reasons, I stayed there and made many close friends.
Such as Joanne.
I met her in my fourth year, when she was a first-year. We were both in the Creative Writing club together.
"I loved your latest piece, Lily," Joanne walked up to her, smiling shyly. "The one about the curious baby."
Lily giggled. "That one is inspired by real life events." When Joanne looked at her inquisitively, Lily hastily clarified. "I have a child. A son."
Joanne's eyes instantly lit up with interest. "Oh… could I meet him?"
She used to play with you a lot, Harry. Joanne was very fond of you… and like me, she also began to make you her muse.
She would write stories about you, imagining adventures you might go on when you were older… or if you lived in a completely different universe.
"What is Harry this time?" Lily asked amusedly. "A pirate?"
Joanne nodded seriously. "Harry Potter and the Cursed Treasures."
Much to Joanne's annoyance, Lily burst out laughing.
Our fourth year of college was marked by other events though.
That was when I met Professor Riddle, who took an unhealthy interest in me despite knowing I was happily married.
He didn't respond to rejection well.
"You make me sound like such a villain," Riddle Sr. interrupted, at which Lily merely glanced at him across the dinner table.
"Were you not?" Lily asked him calmly.
He threatened me, attempted to fail me. And when nothing seemed to work, and no amount of harassment shook my resolve, he decided to take matters into his own hands… and plan a very convenient car crash.
"No … no ," Harry gasped, interrupting Lily this time. Her voice had begun to shake, just like the rest of her. And he didn't dare look at Riddle Sr. Not after what he'd heard… he didn't want to see the look on the murderer's face. "Why didn't you report him? Didn't the police do anything…?"
Lily smiled sadly. "Harry… law enforcement doesn't work on the rich and powerful; it works for them."
On October 31st, a police car crashed into our car, taking the life of James Potter immediately. It was a very strategic crash; fatal for the passenger seat and right backseat, but absolutely safe for the left side of the car.
I escaped unscathed. Harry… you were sitting in a booster seat towards the right side of the car.
You should have died. But you didn't. It was a miracle.
You, too, escaped unscathed… save for a lightning bolt scar on your forehead.
Tears were streaming down Lily's face now, and Harry could feel them streaming down his own.
I knew exactly what had happened. I rushed you to the hospital, scrambling back home to collect a few belongings. I had planned to run away with you, Harry. To flee the country.
But by the time I made it back to the hospital, you were gone.
Lily gave a short burst of mirthless laughter, wiping away tears from her face.
I knew exactly who the perpetrator was, and I was ready to take him to court myself. I filed a report against Professor Riddle, but I had no evidence that he'd caused the crash or kidnapped you.
I gave up on the case. I just wanted you back, Harry. I hired a detective and started looking for you myself, but before I could make any leeway, I was arrested by corrupt policemen paid off by Professor Riddle.
He bailed me out of jail, and once I was out, he was waiting for me with a contract.
I agreed to marry him and to not have any contact with you in exchange for your safety. In exchange for the promise that Riddle, too, would not contact you either… would not touch a hair on your head…
"And yet, here you are," Lily said bitterly. "Brought to me by the very man who banned me from seeing you." She looked at Riddle Sr. "I still don't understand why he was left with Petunia instead of… I don't know, Sirius ."
Harry froze.
"Well," Riddle Sr. replied calmly. "There's one detail you seem to have forgotten, Lily. Your car didn't have three people at the time of the accident, but four. And the driver was none other than Sirius Black."
The older man leaned back in his chair, his expression overly thoughtful. " Someone had to take the blame for James's death. He was simply the most convenient choice."
Bastard.
Harry clenched his shaking fist underneath the dining table, staring down at his plate. He'd only met Sirius much later in his life, while he was in college. He still remembered his first meeting with the man, straight out of jail… how his godfather had gotten down on his knees, apologizing for killing his best friend and Harry's father. He'd been gaunt and sickly pale at the time, and it had looked as if he hadn't slept a day since the accident.
To think that he'd been losing sleep over a crime he didn't commit, while this bastard had the audacity to act utterly remorseless. It was so… unfair.
Riddle spoke for the first time since Lily had started her story. "Is that why you rushed over here today? Did he tell you Harry was staying at the Manor?"
Lily blinked, her tears subsiding as she shook her head. "Oh, no! I didn't even know Harry would be here." Hey eyes narrowed. "Riddle informed me that you would be here though. So I came because I wanted to stop you from suing Joanne, from ruining the James Evans series, and to inform you that I would be legally representing her if you continued to pursue this course of action."
Riddle reared back in his chair. " Seriously? I understand that she's your friend, but why are you so concerned about me 'ruining the series'? You know my exact reasons for wanting to sue her, you know she based the villain on me—"
"Because James Evans isn't just based on you. It's also based on Harry," Lily snapped.
Riddle stopped talking. "Right, of course."
Harry was still having a hard time processing everything.
"W-what?" Harry asked slowly.
Lily took a deep breath and tried to re-explain.
"Remember how I told you that she liked to write stories about you?" She breathed again, as if trying to stop herself from blurting everything out at once. " James Evans— a combination of your middle name and your mother's maiden last name. A boy with a lightning bolt scar, just like you, who grows up thinking his parents died in a car crash when he was five."
"A lightning bolt scar… like Harry's?" Riddle repeated quietly, looking curiously at Harry.
Harry glanced bemusedly at him before turning back to Lily. "Wait. So the 'fake' reason that James's parents die in the series—"
"— is the real reason your father died." Lily finished. "Correct. And the villain was inspired by the Riddles. While none of us stood a chance against corrupt legal systems, against the power of the Riddle family, there was nothing stopping her from using real-life crimes as the inspiration."
Lily took a deep breath, training earnest eyes back on Harry.
"But more importantly, Harry— Joanne adored you, missed you; she wrote the James Evans series mainly as a tribute to you… to remember you by. To re-imagine adventures you might have wished for in your wildest dreams, despite not being able to contact you…"
Harry closed his eyes, sighing. His head was hurting. The deeper Lily had gotten into her detailed account of events, the faster she'd talked, and it was all just too much information to process.
"I wonder if Joanne knew who I was when she approached me, asking me to be her editor," Riddle said faintly, his expression unreadable.
Lily looked at Riddle regretfully. "Asking a Riddle to publish a series in which she purposefully villainizes Riddles… it was probably her idea of poetic justice." Her eyes slid past him to Riddle Sr. "However, it's very likely that Joanne didn't base Marvolo purely on you."
Harry looked at Riddle Sr. too. The man had been oddly quiet, serenely observing their discussion. But now, a faint smile seemed to ghost his lips.
Riddle leaned forward, staring at Lily in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Lily looked cautiously at Riddle Sr. one more, as if waiting for him to stop her, before continuing. "I mean that despite Joanne drawing influence from you, such as by using your name, the villain of her series is based primarily on your father."
Riddle blinked uncomprehendingly.
Lily leaned back, crossing her arms. "Think about it— you were raised by your mother and adopted by your father, yes? Marvolo's backstory is much more similar to your father's."
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Father's backstory? Of what, childhood opulence?"
And finally, Riddle Sr. stepped in. "No, son. She's referring to the fact that I, too, grew up an orphan. Except that I found my parents when I was sixteen, murdered them, and inherited everything they'd owned. Also, I was a professor for a short period of time— which was Marvolo's dream job, if you recall."
So Riddle Sr. had read the series as well, Harry pondered with narrowed eyes.
He picked up the napkin from his lap and set it on the dining table. "Not to mention, I gave Harry that scar on his forehead… and killed his dad."
Harry gritted his teeth, holding back his fury as Riddle Sr. made eye contact with him, his mouth tilting into a knowing smirk.
Meanwhile, Riddle looked shocked. It seemed he'd known nothing about his father's childhood.
"You were an orphan too?"
Riddle Sr. looked down at his plate. "Yes. Same as you, boy, Wool's Orphanage. Except it was during WW2, when conditions were… slightly worse."
"And… you still left me in an orphanage," Riddle stated hesitantly, as if not wanting to confirm the truth.
Riddle Sr. stared at Riddle, his expression blank. "Yes."
His response was simple. He made no excuses to justify his actions.
Thomas Riddle Sr. was simply not a good man.
Harry hadn't realized he'd said that last part aloud until he heard Thomas Riddle Sr. chuckling in response. "No, I'm not, Harry. But I did reunite you with your mother in the end."
"You killed my father, so it cancels out," Harry bit out, causing Riddle Sr. to break out in cold, chilling laughter.
His skin crawled at the sound.
Harry was surprised his own voice wasn't shaking. Sitting across from a murderer who'd killed his own parents, Harry's father, and nearly killed Harry was terrifying. He'd always suspected Riddle was some sort of mafia leader, but he'd been suspecting the wrong Riddle all this time.
And Riddle Senior was far more terrifying than the mafia.
He was a cold-blooded, psychopathic murderer who didn't care for his own son, murdered as he pleased, and took what he wanted.
As the gravity of his own situation sunk in, Harry began to notice the way Lily's fingers trembled ever so slightly despite her earlier defiance, the way her wide eyes had been locked on Harry's the entire time, as if screaming at him to run. He noticed the way Riddle's overly relaxed form contradicted his razor-sharp gaze, constantly scanning his surroundings.
Harry's righteous anger was quickly replaced with heart-stopping fear.
His heart began to beat faster. If he'd been his teenage self, he probably would have thrown a butter knife. If he was smart, he'd have attempted to run away by now. Instead, he'd done nothing more than hurl angry remarks at Riddle Sr. and his family.
He was probably in deep shit.
Lily stood up from the table first, calling for some of the maids to help clear up the dinner table. Harry didn't know what to think of his mother. He understood that she'd been a victim, that she hadn't really had a choice. A part of him was happy to even see her again. But she was a Riddle now, and she had been for nearly twenty years.
Right now, the person he trusted the most in this room was his boss. Even so, it wasn't enough to share his suspicions with him.
Harry had a sinking feeling this entire trip had just been a set up.
He narrowed his eyes at Riddle Sr. as everyone got up from the dinner table. His senses had been tingling from the second Riddle Sr. had clapped in the hallway. Because while Lily had been telling him her backstory, Harry had started to piece things together, and something wasn't adding up.
For some reason, Riddle Sr. had forced his son to take Harry along with him on a "business trip" that ended up with him in England— in the Riddle Manor. And after twenty years of keeping Harry and Lily apart, Riddle Sr. had suddenly, very conveniently decided to reunite them.
The only thing Harry couldn't figure out was why .
Harry fought the urge to recoil as Riddle Sr. returned Harry's gaze, forcing eye contact.
"Harry," Riddle Sr. smiled. "Why don't you join me in my room for a drink? I'd like to get to know my stepson a little more."
Drinking with a murderer? Terrible idea.
"Of course, sir," Harry replied carefully, trying his best to manage a smile that didn't expose the turmoil he felt. At any rate, maybe slipping that butter knife into his sleeve hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
. . .
Harry's heart pounded the entire time he followed Riddle Sr. through the dark, twisty hallways of Riddle Manor. Great, he was lost already. There was an ominous silence broken only by the echoes of their footsteps, and eventually, by the creaking of Riddle Sr.'s doors.
"Come in, Harry. Make yourself comfortable," Riddle Sr. said, walking towards a cupboard near the master bedroom entrance.
Harry slowly walked in, taking in the room with a sense of wonder. It was the largest bedroom he'd ever seen. It was probably bigger than his entire apartment, and the bed was… why did Riddle Sr. even need such a big bed? It was red and luscious and— hold up— were those rose petals?
Harry felt a spark of unease as his mind flashed back to the rose petals on Amortentia Inn's beds.
"Enjoying the view?" Riddle Sr. said with amusement.
Harry flushed. Had he been that obvious? "Yessir."
Riddle Sr. hummed, a suggestive glimmer in his eyes. "Me too."
Harry stared at him dumbly. Was Riddle Sr. trying to rub his wealth in Harry's face or something? He crossed his arms defensively, resolutely staying near the doors. To be fair, he'd probably be a smug asshole if he woke up everyday to this kind of view as well.
Closing his cupboard, Riddle Sr. walked over to the sitting area of his bedroom, setting two glasses and a wine bottle down on an antique-looking, intricate mini table.
It was the ugliest table he'd ever seen.
"Do you like this table?" Riddle Sr. asked Harry casually as he sat down on a sofa near it. The older man picked up the wine bottle and began to open it with a corkscrew. "I imported it from abroad. Bought it in a foreign art museum."
People actually bought the art in museums? Harry tentatively took a few steps forward to get a better look.
Nope. Still ugly.
"It's stunning," Harry lied.
Riddle Sr. smiled, patting the seat next to him. "Don't be so shy, Harry. Come sit."
Harry begrudgingly dragged himself closer to the man and stiffly sat on the corner of the same sofa. From this angle, Riddle Sr. was a lot closer, and Harry began comparing him to the only other Riddle he was familiar with.
Riddle Sr.'s hair may have been peppered with silver, but the natural color of his hair was a lighter, medium brown. His skin was tanner than his son's, his lashes just as long but not quite as full. The only major difference that Harry could spot between them was in the color of their irises.
"Hmm, it seems this corkscrew is broken," Riddle Sr. tossed the corkscrew in a nearby can, fingering the wine bottle's cork thoughtfully. "May I use your butter knife?"
Harry froze, his heart jumping out of his chest.
"What butter knife?"
Ice blue eyes fixated on Harry.
"The one in your sleeve, of course." Riddle Sr.'s smile grew ever so slightly. A sudden chill crept across Harry's spine as he realized he rarely saw the man without a smile of some sort. "Just place it on the table along with your phone. I don't particularly enjoy being recorded."
Silence.
Harry wordlessly placed his items on the table, preparing himself for death.
Riddle Sr. chuckled. "Relax, Harry. I'm not going to kill you."
Whatever expression Harry had made at that statement caused Riddle Sr. to break out in low laughter once again.
"You're more entertaining than I anticipated." Riddle Sr. tilted his head, his serene smile ever-present. "Since you know of my true nature, I'll speak more candidly with you."
The older man began pouring red wine into one of the glasses.
"Harry… do you know what it takes to be a successful murderer?" he asked rhetorically.
Harry stayed quiet. All of his anger was being channeled into mental sarcasm that he was desperately trying to hold back. "No, sir."
"Attention to detail," Riddle Sr. answered after a few moments. "And Harry—" Riddle's eyes shifted from the wine to him. "I have eyes everywhere. "
Harry swallowed. He could no longer contain his curiosity.
"Sir—"
"Thomas is fine in the bedroom."
Harry really did not like the sound of that. But he didn't want to risk being murdered, so he obliged.
"Thomas," Harry forced out after a few moments. "Since we're being candid now— why did you bring me here? Why did you plan," he gestured vaguely in no particular direction, "this very happy reunion, and why now? What's your motive?
Riddle Sr. raised his eyebrows at him, his smile curving into a smirk. "So your eyes aren't just for looks."
Harry couldn't even hide his grimace at this point. Thankfully, he didn't have to, as Riddle Sr. had already turned away to light up a cigarette.
"You know, when I first met your mother, she was so different from how she is now."
He exhaled in Harry's general direction, causing Harry's eyes to water. But the look in his ice-blue eyes was far, far away.
"She was feisty and full of life."
Harry coughed at the next exhale. As if in response, Riddle stood up and walked towards the bedroom window, sweeping away curtains and sliding it open. A chilly breeze swept through the room as moonlight flooded in.
"She was one of those students that stuck out. Speaking up for her classmates, standing up against bullies around campus. Such a… goddamn heroine." Riddle Sr. snorted, his eyes warm at the memory as he looked out towards the dark woods.
"Unfortunately, Riddles have a bit of a destructive tendency; we tend to kill things." Riddle Sr. looked back at Harry, his face shrouded in the shadows.
"Since you paid the Riddle graveyard a visit, you might have noticed that over half the names don't end with 'Riddle.' Those, Harry, are victims." Riddle's teeth glinted through the darkness.
And then he saw it again— Riddle Sr.'s smile. But this time, it barely resembled one; his face seemed more like an animal's, teeth bared predatorily.
"Lily didn't die, but her spirit did. Slowly, over the years, turning her into a bitter woman with none of her earlier passion."
Gee, I wonder why. Harry frowned, feeling sorrowful for her.
"And oddly enough, though I hate to see her like this…" Riddle Sr. leaned against the wall near the window, facing Harry once more with that odd, sharp smile. "Breaking her was part of the fun."
Psycho.
Harry suppressed a shudder as Riddle Sr. continued to smoke, speak, and breathe in his general direction. He watched carefully as the older man exhaled again, staring off into the distance.
"I still wish she could go back to her old self though."
What?
"So—" Harry started tentatively, utterly confused. "Is this your way of saying you plan to let her go? You feel bad for how she… turned out… so you're letting her into my life again?"
Was the man trying to atone now?
Riddle Sr.'s mouth curved at the corners, as if he'd found something very amusing. "How cute, but no. I'm — ah, how do you say it." He tilted his head to the side, eyes glinting as his gaze traveled down Harry's form. drew in Harry's form"I suppose you could say I'm upgrading to a newer model."
Riddle Sr. grinned.
Harry paled as realization finally struck him, his stomach revolting at the thought. He shot out of his chair, stumbling back.
"Hell no—"
"It wasn't a request, Harry," Riddle said softly. "I know you're already attracted to my son, and I've seen the glances you've thrown my way at the office…"
That was before I found out how you screwed up my life, jackass.
Harry clenched his jaw, too angry to feel embarrassed. "Not on your life —"
"If you don't oblige, then I may end up punishing your poor mother. Granted, she's already been punished for twenty years, so what's twenty more?"
Is this really happening? Harry panicked, scrambling back behind the chair he'd been sitting on. He took a few more steps backward before tripping into Riddle Sr.'s bed.
"I'll give you time to think, Harry. You can come back and take your phone once you've made a decision—"
"My answer is no, " he gritted out firmly.
Riddle Sr. tilted his head in askance, his bright blue eyes dimming.
"No? " he repeated, in a dangerous tone of voice. "What do you mean, no?"
Harry looked at him incredulously. "I mean, no . You wanna hear it in Spanish? No. "
All hints of serenity vanished from Riddle Sr.'s face.
He did not see the punch coming.
Harry gripped the bedpost, lightly touching his stinging face with his other hand. Internally, he knew Riddle Sr. was far stronger than him. The best course of action would be to duck and avoid.
Unfortunately, it wasn't long until he was backed into a corner. The punches began to leave him dizzy, and they'd finally caused his verbal defenses to act up.
"Congratulations, you're officially worse than your son. Well, you were already worse, but now—"
Another punch. This time, a metallic taste filled Harry's mouth, blurring his vision further.
"You're pretty strong for an old man—"
The next few punches had Harry sliding off the bed, onto the floor. He felt his breath leave him as a kick connected with his stomach. Bright, colorful spots filled his eyesight, causing him to close his eyes for good. He vaguely felt as a hand grasped his jaw, turning it to face upward.
A faint tsk-tsk filled the air.
"If only we hadn't had to do things the hard way. Then I wouldn't have had to mar your beautiful face."
Right as Harry swore he felt the beginnings of a kiss being pressed against his bruising cheek, the bedroom doors banged open.
Bang! Bang!
"Police! Hands in the air. Right now, get down, onto the floor… onto your knees…"
As a rush of police flooded in, Riddle Sr. was forced into a prostate form, a booted foot pressing his back into the floor as various guns pointed his way
"You're brave to defy me like this," Riddle Sr. noted calmly, cold anger evident in his tone. "What makes you think you'll be able to arrest me?"
Another laugh filled the air, low and decadent.
"You assume you're still above the law after years outside the country?" Riddle stepped forward from behind the police. "How naive."
He bent down and grabbed his father by his hair, raising his head. "The maids, the butler, the police… they're no longer your eyes, father." Riddle smiled sharply, his eyes dark and terrifying. "They're mine."
As Riddle stood up and police rushed forward to restrain the older Riddle, someone bumped into Harry once more, and the last bit of willpower that had been keeping him conscious died.
Harry passed out.
. . .
When Harry opened his eyes again, there were twenty people in the room. The chaos was slow to sink in, but when it finally did, he realized someone was shaking him.
"...Harry! Oh my goodness," Lily cried, on her knees beside Harry. She was holding an ice pack to his swollen cheek, careful to avoid the bandages around Harry's stomach. "I told you we should have called the police earlier!"
Harry winced at the noise, closing his eyes again. The bright, sterile whiteness of the hospital was almost painful to witness. He just wanted to shut everything out.
A tired voice answered Lily. "If we had, then we wouldn't have had enough evidence to lock him up for good. But you're right, I didn't realize…" the voice wavered, "... he would go this far."
Harry reopened his eyes at the sound of his voice. "Riddle?"
"Harry," Riddle whispered raggedly, lightly clutching Harry's hand. "Harry, I'm so sorry…"
"Evidence?" Harry asked hoarsely. He cleared his throat, attempting to sit up. "How did you collect that?"
Riddle and Lily exchanged a glance.
"Remember how my father had already bought plane tickets and made various reservations for us?" Riddle started, sitting down in one of the sofas near Harry's hospital bed.
Harry nodded slowly, wondering where this was about to go.
The older man looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Those tickets and reservations were booked for two weeks after we actually came. However, it was clear from the way he'd interacted with you that he was planning something."
Riddle sighed. "I knew that my father would be leaving for another business trip the day after he spoke to us. So I decided to fly us both to London two weeks in advance and… prepare for his inevitable arrival and plans."
Harry crossed his arms, listening intently. "What do you mean, prepare?"
"Talking with the police in advance. Gathering evidence of his past transgressions from the maids and butler. Some…" Riddle grimaced, "Minor bribery work to get them to confess. Planting mini-cameras around the house, including his bedroom." Riddle's frown deepened, his eyes flickering uncomfortably. "He has a history of making… transgressions in private areas. And while I'd known vaguely of them in the past, I'd had neither the power nor… the motivation to openly go against him."
Before Harry could ask more questions, Lily's phone began to buzz.
"It's Joanne," she said, checking her screen. She looked at Riddle. "She's texting me. I should probably call her?"
"Go ahead," Riddle replied, "I'll watch over him." He turned to look back at Harry. "Lily planned the second part of our plan last night; we're delivering copies of the evidence to Joanne, in order for her to write an exclusive piece exposing my father." His eyes narrowed. "With this, he'll be properly ruined."
As Lily stepped outside to take the call, Riddle got up and closed the door behind her, leaning against the wall.
"Well," Harry sighed. " That was a mind-fuck." He leaned back into his hospital bed, trying to get comfortable—
He sat up abruptly, facing Riddle. "For the record, in case your dad actually dies in jail or something — I don't want your inheritance, so… rest easy."
Riddle scoffed. "As if I care about that. " He looked downward, furrowing his eyebrows. "After everything my father has put your family through… "
He looked at Harry with a soft warmth that made Harry's stomach tingle. "I'm so glad you're safe, Harry." Riddle bit his lip. "I'm also glad you survived that car crash."
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, it left me with this scar on my forehead. And got me sent to my homophobic aunt's house, so…"
Riddle took a few steps forward, bending down and reaching a hand towards Harry's forehead with a curious gleam in his eyes. "May I… ?"
Harry's brain began malfunctioning at the close proximity, his voice coming out as a slow, robotic drone. "Yeahhhhhhhhhsssure—"
His vocal chords stopped working as he felt Riddle's fingers brush his hair back from his forehead, burgundy-brown eyes staring at the scar.
"So Joanne really did base James Evans on you," Riddle breathed out softly. "Daniel Bratcliffe did not do you justice."
Harry's cheeks flushed. "Huh?"
Riddle only tilted his head in response, observing Harry's scar more closely. "His scar is so inaccurate. It barely resembles a lightning bolt. But yours looks so much more natural. A main bolt of lightning with many fainter, tiny lines streaking from it. I'm guessing you were actually struck by some form of electricity during the car crash, because it resembles a Lichtenberg figure."
A what?
Riddle let Harry's hair fall through his fingers and back onto his forehead, covering his scar.
"Your bangs cover it perfectly too," Riddle murmured, his eyes flashing as his fingers lingered near Harry's left ear.
"Oh. T-thanks?" Harry stammered, blushing more deeply.
"I never would have guessed you were lightning_boi."
Harry froze, his mouth halfway open.
The silence was too loud.
" W-what did you say?" The idea of denying it didn't even occur to him. How did he guess? Harry gasped, scrambling back towards the headboard on all fours. Unfortunately, a strong grip captured Harry's ankle and pulled him back.
"Stop moving, you'll injure yourself," Riddle uttered sternly, before his mouth melted into an amused smirk. "Why are you running away now ?"
When Harry remained frozen, Riddle's smirk softened into a smile. "Honestly, Harry, I'm just happy it's you."
He stared at Riddle, his mouth once again agape, before shaking his head in disbelief. Well, if identities were at stake, two could play at that game.
After a moment of deliberation, Harry proceeded to tug his ankle out of Riddle's grip and turned to face the other. "Took you long enough, Lord Voldemort."
Riddle put a knee on Harry's bed and leaned down, softly capturing his jaw. "Shut up, Harry Potter."
Then, he kissed Harry.