Chapter 6

"I thought you meant a restaurant," Harry remarked as they entered Riddle's living room.

"I thought you said you could get killed for this information?" Riddle immediately shot back.

"Point." Harry threw his jacket carelessly to a chair and moved to the kitchen. "What are we having?" he asked Riddle.

Riddle's kitchen was spacious and light with appliances fit for large gatherings. In front of the kitchen was a casual dining area with floor to ceilings windows overlooking an upscale commercial area in a lesser-known Wizarding area.

"Steak. How do you like yours?" Riddle shrugged off his outer robes and rolled his long-sleeves. He took out the already seasoned meat from the double-door fridge, turned on the stove, and started on the steak.

"Medium-well. What can I do to help?" Harry asked as he stood a bit awkwardly watching Riddle start to cook the steaks.

"You can just sit down on the island with a glass of wine and keep me company."

"Tempting. But I hate doing nothing."

"Maybe do a side dish for the steak then?"

"Okay. Do you have something planned?"

"Whatever you like."

Harry opened the fridge. It was full of vegetables, fruits, and food. It looked heavenly. Harry missed having an apartment with a functioning kitchen. Having to eat out all of his meals got old quickly and cafeteria food wasn't the best. He rummaged in the pantry before deciding on a rich, creamy pasta. It was quick, easy, and he has never managed to ruin it. He found what he needed and started the sauce.

"I didn't know you could do silent, wandless casting," Riddle remarked.

"Hmm?" Harry asked distractedly, as he stirred the butter and added some flour and salt.

"Wandless. I didn't know you knew." Riddle looked pointedly at the flying cutlery and Harry's lack of wand.

Harry looked down and patted his pockets for his wand. Then he remembered, his wand was still in his jacket. He was unarmed and hadn't even noticed. And he had left his wand at the entrance without a moment's hesitation. Harry took a moment to process that. It really was New World, New Harry.

"Oh. Just parlor tricks," Harry responded when he remembered that Riddle had asked him about his wandless. Didn't just about everyone did wandless in the kitchen? Then again his view might be skewed by hanging around with war veterans, Ron that was a tactical genius, and the overall genius that was Hermione. Even Molly Weasley was something of an underrated powerhouse.

Riddle left the steaks cooking and went to the fridge to take out a bottle of red wine and served two glasses. "When did you learn?" he asked, giving Harry a glass of wine.

Harry concentrated on stirring milk on to the sauce and wished for a change of subject. He took a sip of wine to fortify himself and forged ahead because Riddle looked like he had no intention of dropping the subject. "I'm not sure actually."

"No?" Riddle asked with skepticism dripping from his tone.

Harry looked at Riddle and clearly repeated, "No."

"So did you just one day wake up and were suddenly capable of wandless magic?" he drawled mockingly.

Harry smirked. "Basically." When the pasta was done and he could leave the sauce simmering, he turned to see Riddle watching him. The steaks were done and he was waiting for Harry to finish with his glass of wine.

"I had an accident. I lost all of my memories." This was the sort of information that Harry preferred that Riddle found out through him and not Draco Malfoy blabbering.

Riddle frowned, "When was this?"

Harry took the sauce out of the heat and poured it over the pasta. "Three years ago." The steaks were done so he turned off the stove and flew everything to the table.

"I didn't know," Riddle said almost to himself as he sat down and served himself a steak. Harry divided the pasta and served a portion to Riddle.

"I'm not surprised," Harry shrugged, "It's not widely known information." He cut up the steak and tasted it. It was heavenly. He closed his eyes and enjoyed one of the few good meals he has had this year. Harry opened his eyes to see Riddle watching him seriously.

"What happened?"

"Traumatic brain injury that caused retrograde amnesia. I must have fallen or something; I don't remember. I just woke up on the floor of an apartment I didn't recognize with no memories."

"Retrograde amnesia?" Riddle asked for clarification on the medical term. Harry wished they didn't have to have this conversation. But it was better now by his own choosing and than in the future because Riddle was interrogating him when Harry failed to know a crucial part of his past.

"I can't remember things from before the accident but I retained skills and knowledge."

"You don't think it was an attack?" It didn't surprise Harry that Riddle would think of an attack. The man saw enemies in shadows.

Harry snorted. The idea of someone targeting Hogwart's dropout, communications department trainee Harry Potter was absurd. Harry looked up to see Riddle's serious face still waiting for an answer. "No, Riddle, I'm not important enough for someone to target me. And they would have tried again after seeing me alive."

"But what if it was your memories they were after?"

"Then we'll never know." Riddle looked vaguely worried so Harry clarified, "There was no doubt it was an accident." Or you know, a suicide. Riddle would know about it when he went looking for answers at St. Mungus but that was just not something Harry wanted to casually mention over dinner. It was private and Riddle was not owed all of Harry's secrets.

Riddle looked pensive. "And what happened next?"

"St. Mungus. They told me the memories might come back with time but they haven't. And at this point, I'm rather hoping they won't."

"Why?"

"People who recover often don't remember having amnesia. While unlikely at this point, I could potentially lose these three years." Harry concentrated on eating but he could see Riddle was still thinking about it.

"You'd forget me?"

Harry smiled at Riddle, amused at his one-tract mind, "I'm more worried about my almost completed Master's. It would be a shame to lose it," he teased Riddle, "but there's little to worry about. If it hasn't come back by now it's most likely permanent memory loss."

Riddle seemed to mull it over and Harry left him to continue his steak. He hoped Riddle found it in his heart to share the green grapes Harry saw in the fridge for dessert.

"Draco Malfoy today?"

Harry laughed. "That was a disaster. I knew Lucius Malfoy had a son named Draco but I didn't remember his face. I think I traumatized him. He's going to have a complex about being unmemorable."

Riddle smiled but it did not reach his eyes. He seemed in deep thought, probably reviewing his memories in light of the new information.

"What did you think the first time we talked?"

That was a broad question. Harry thought many things. Not all of them fit for casual conversation. "You told me upfront we had never talked," Harry ventured.

"I did, didn't I? And what would you have done if I hadn't?" he asked with curiosity.

Harry shrugged unconcerned, "What I do with everyone. Let them talk until they tell me what our relationship is like."

"Why not ask?" Riddle asked before taking a bite of his food.

"If I told people I don't remember they could rewrite history and I wouldn't have any way of knowing."

"That's true," Riddle murmured and concentrated eating with a thoughtful frown.

"And besides, memory loss is not cut and dried. There are things I never forgot. I usually know faces and names and have some basic inkling if I liked them or not. So I'm not as lost as I was today with Malfoy."

"It must have been difficult," he said after a while.

Harry chewed a bit more food as he thought about how to answer that. "It was...annoying," Harry finally settled on.

"Annoying?" Riddle asked dumbfounded with the beginnings of a smile.

"I mean, not knowing the big things of your life is terrifying of course but it was the little things that drove me insane."

"How so?"

"I didn't know where my key to Gringotts was or even if I had a Gringotts vault, where I put my wallet and my birth certificate, how much do I pay in rent and to whom do I pay it to, where I worked, what I worked in, the way home, or where to buy groceries. Am I deathly allergic to something? Do I need to take any medication? The everyday stuff you take for granted knowing."

"Why not ask your family?"

"It was common knowledge we were estranged."

"So you don't know what happened with your family? You don't remember?" Riddle asked for clarification.

Harry shook his head no. "I've pieced enough to have an idea of what happened but it's likely that I'll never know the details."

"Do you want me to find out what happened?"

"Thank you but no. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Can family abandoning you ever not matter?" Riddle asked quietly looking at Harry intently. Harry looked at him with surprise.

"What I mean is that the damage is done and knowing the details of why will not help me understand. I will never understand," Harry said thinking of not just the Potters' but on the scars that the Dursleys left on his soul that shaped him as an adult. To survive childhood he had to be pragmatic to the point of mercenary. Obsessively observant like his life depended on it because most days it did.

The corners of Riddle's mouth turned down. "Did you have anyone to help you?"

"I had Pike and Martinez."

"Picardos and George Martinez? Were you friends before?"

"They were at St. Mungus the day of my accident. They were cursed while on a job and we met at the cafeteria."

They finished eating and Riddle used his wand to get the dishes to wash themselves. Harry carried the piles of folders to the living room coffee table and started organizing them. Riddle brought the wine glasses and the half-finished bottle of wine and sat opposite of Harry.

Harry sat straight at Riddle's serious face. "If you ever need to know something, ask me. I'll find it," he offered. Harry nodded and the subject was dropped.

"Ok, let's start with October 4th."

Three hours later they were only halfway through the information and Harry was yawning every two sentences. His hair was a mess and he was heavily leaning into his hand. "I need coffee if we are staying up." Riddle looked like the fury was fueling him but Harry had no such emotion driving him.

Riddle looked at him and seemed to agree that Harry looked dead. "We'll continue tomorrow. Meet me here at eight."

"Here?" Harry confirmed.

"Yes. I don't want this information leaking out before I'm ready."

Harry nodded and started organizing the papers back into their files. He left with a "see you tomorrow" and passed out the moment his head touched the pillow.

Harry woke up earlier than usual to have breakfast at a café down the street before floo-ing to Riddle's apartment at exactly eight. He spelled the ashes out with a negligent hand wave as he followed the noise to the kitchen.

"You want breakfast?" Riddle was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt with his hair still wet from the shower. Harry took a moment to admire the view. Riddle exercised and it showed in his back and biceps.

"Oh, I already had breakfast," Harry answered as he hopped on the island stool.

Riddle frowned. "Without me?"

"I didn't want to assume," Harry said awkwardly.

Riddle grunted. "Next time you are having breakfast here."

Harry smiled. "Yes, sir."

Riddle rolled his eyes with exasperation. "Insolent." He poured over the boiling water into the french press to make coffee.

The french press was new and the bag of coffee grounds was unopened. Riddle didn't drink coffee. Only Harry drank coffee. Harry smiled as he watched as Riddle expertly make Harry a cup with the perfect amount of sugar Harry liked and passed it over. Harry wondered how long had the creep kept all he needed to make Harry coffee in his apartment. He probably didn't want to know.

"Thanks," Harry whispered over the coffee. He had a feeling that he would find all of his favorite breakfast foods in Riddle's fridge and pantry.

Harry got up with his coffee. "Come on we have two more years of financial documents to go over and I plan to leave at six." Riddle followed Harry to the dining table where the papers were waiting for them.

"Why at six?"

"Because that's when you stop paying me?" Harry replied dryly.

"Try again."

Well shit. This really was slavery. Harry expelled a noisy breath in resignation and explained. "I want to prepare for the trip next month."

Riddle frowned. It was obvious he hadn't expected that answer. "What do you need to prepare?"

"I was thinking of having a ritual prepared. Just in case we really find something Ummm moving down there. I don't want to go there wands blazing without being sure that what we find in there is really beyond saving. Since we don't know the original ritual, I was thinking of having a general undo ritual."

"There's no such thing," Riddle shot down instantly. "Each ritual has to be tailor-made to a specific circumstance."

"There's no such thing...yet," Harry corrected.

"How in the world would you go about doing that? It's impossible," Riddle scoffed.

"Don't be such a downer. It can be done if I want it done." That has been true all of Harry's life and he didn't see why it had to change now.

Riddle smiled widely, his crow feet making an appearance. "Are you going to stubborn your way through the rules of magic?"

"You bet your bubble butt I am," Harry said fiercely. Harry's jaw fell when his ears caught up to his mouth. He was mortified. Harry dropped his head into his hands.

Riddle seemed equally impressed at his balls, then he started laughing with a red flush creeping up his neck. When Riddle calmed down he said, "Then I'll return the favor and help you not get blown up."

Harry scoffed. "I won't get blown up. I have the beginnings of a plan."

"The beginnings of a plan?" Riddle repeated mockingly smiling wickedly. "That's exactly what I want to hear when talking about experimenting with volatile magic."

"Yes," Harry pushed through the sarcasm, his pride prickled. He wasn't an idiot. "I'm going to mix adaptive magic with ritual magic to create an adaptive ritual. It will learn each time it is used and will eventually be able to create it's own solutions to problems."

"Oh joy, so we are mixing two volatile branches of magic and hoping for the best. And you expect this to be done before the second week of September?"

"Yes," Harry said stubbornly, daring Riddle to doubt him.

"We best get started then. We have to be over by six to attempt the impossible."

Harry deflated with the acceptance. He sipped his coffee and pointed at the papers, "What are you planning to do with this?"

Riddle hummed. "I'm still thinking about it."

"You planning on taking the Minister role again?" Harry asked curiously.

Riddle paused. "What makes you say that?" he asked carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes and gave the man an unimpressed look. "Give me a bit of credit, Riddle. You knew about this. Or had strong suspicions. You wouldn't drag this up if you didn't have some kind of plan for the aftermath."

Riddle raised his eyebrows. "What do you think my plan is?"

Harry shrugged and backtracked. "I haven't been paying much attention to politics in the last three years. I have been preoccupied with my problems."

"But you have a theory," Riddle insisted. Harry stared at the table and started reorganizing the papers. "Nope. No theory at all." Harry wanted to bang his head on the table. Why did he start this conversation?

"Come on, Potter, give me a bit of credit," he repeated mockingly.

"It could be way off the mark."

"I want to know."

"It's stupid," Harry insisted as he pushed the papers to Riddle in the blind hope that the subject would be dropped. Riddle put his elbows on his knees and stared at Harry intensely. Harry shifted in his seat nervously, "You are going to laugh. Politics is not really my thing."

"Tell me," Riddle ordered. Harry looked to the side, "Forget it. Let's work."

"Potter," he warned.

Harry sighed. "Are you going to kill me for saying this?"

"No, Potter." Harry reckons that was a solid probably.

"Not even if it is a wild, crazy story full of drama?" Better make him believe that even Harry didn't believe it.

"Not even then." Had Riddle always had prominent canines when he smiled and he is just now noticing?

"OK. So." Harry sighed heavily and pushed ahead because he already dug himself a grave, he might as well push the earth on top of him. "There's a limit on how many times you can be reelected and you already reached your limit, right?"

"Right," Riddle confirmed, his eyes never leaving Harry.

"You could continue to rule behind the scenes as you have been but from what I've seen this new Minister is difficult and has been behind many bills you disapprove of. With this, there is enough evidence to throw him and all of his accomplices to jail. With the unrest, the public will be begging you to take the mantle again. You will deny the requests enough times to seem genuine while the Ministry burns in flames a while longer. When the public is demanding that you take the post, for the good of Wizarding Britain, you will change the law to set no limits on reelection and take the post."

"It really is a wild tale. You have a lot of imagination." Harry would believe him if Riddle wasn't looking at him like he wanted to wrap Harry up in a blanket and keep him locked in a basement somewhere secret. Harry laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. Fuck.

"Told you so. Completely off base," Harry said because as much as Pike and Martinez wanted to deny it, he did have survival instincts. He opened the file he had in front of him decidedly and cleared his throat. "Let's get to work."

By six-thirty, they had compiled files of evidence to present to the Aurors so they could take over the investigation. Chinese takeout littered the table and more than a few papers had greasy fingerprints. Just six people had stolen more than 14 million Galleons over the last year.

Riddle was furious. "I did not realize it was this bad," Riddle admitted as he pushed his hair back in frustration and paced like a caged animal. He opened and closed his fists repeatedly.

Harry went to the fridge and got the green grapes. "Here, have some," he offered.

Riddle looked at the grapes then looked at Harry in exasperation. He smiled and obligingly took one. "If you wanted grapes you could have taken them you know."

Harry popped one to his mouth. "Me? no. This is for you. So you feel better. Sympathy grapes. See? you are smiling. They are working already."

"Anything else that works?" Riddle asked with a smile, taking another grape.

"Strawberries and ritual creation," Harry said with authority.

At midnight Harry threw the book to the floor and collapsed on the couch. The living room was filled with proto-rituals, papers, books, quills, and snacks. Harry had finished the grapes an hour ago. "I'm too dumb to be this ambitious," he complained as he popped another strawberry to his mouth.

"Well, too late to back out now. You have me convinced that this madness is possible." Riddle was like a mad man when he had a project. It would scare Harry if he weren't the same.

"I'll send some letters to leading experts tomorrow," Harry looked at the clock on the mantle and corrected, "or later today. Someone might give us a clue on how to continue."

"They could steal your idea," Riddle growled as if he was already planning their deaths for the slight.

Harry snorted. "They are fucking welcome to it if they think they can finish it. I want it done, I don't particularly care if I'm the one to do it."

Riddle blinked owlishly at him. "But they could win the order of Merlin with your idea."

"So I end up with the ritual I want and not having to go to a ceremony? Perfect."

"You are impossible."

"Impossibly tired," Harry looked around the mess of books he had brought from his home and various articles of clothing thrown around the living room. He wandlessly made a floating pile and headed to the floo.

"I'll pick up anything I forget tomorrow."

"You can leave your stuff here. We can continue tomorrow."

Harry dropped the pile without fanfare. "Fine." He almost burned himself in the floo and fell face-first to his mattress.