Chapter II: You're A Wizard

Tom felt incredibly tense. He had heard Harry's door open and the man had walked confidently up to his bedroom door – and then had proceeded to stand there for the last minute or so. He had closed his book and sat perched on the edge of his bed, wondering what the older man was doing. Tom couldn't help the tinge of disappointment he felt; obviously Mr Potter had decided to heed what Mrs Cole had said to him. Was he coming to tell him to pack his bags? Would he at least be able to keep his new things?

Either way it didn't matter. Tom was a survivor, he never needed adults before and he wouldn't make the mistake to start relying on them now. He decided that Mr Potter was pathetic, and he would do him a favour by opening the door himself.

Harry blinked uncertainly down at his new charge; he hadn't expected the boy to open the door so suddenly – he hadn't even heard him move.

"Err, hello Tom." Harry berated himself for being so stupid moments earlier. How could he let a six year old child make him feel nervous? He had been feeling rather unsettled by how the boys dark eyes followed him constantly as he helped him unpack, reminding him all too much of a snake that was watching its prey, getting ready to strike. He had hastily excused himself and had hidden in his room, feeling ashamed of himself.

"Hello Mr Potter. Are you sending me back to the orphanage?" Tom asked candidly. The sudden onslaught of guilt Harry was experiencing was enough to almost suffocate him. He hadn't even spent a whole day with Tom and already he was failing him! Harry's resolution strengthened as he thought of his family and friends that were yet to born. He could do this.

"No Tom," Harry said softly, kneeling down so they were almost eye level, "you're my responsibility now, and I won't let you down. I promise that I will never send you back to the orphanage." Tom was an exceptionally tall child, so Harry actually found himself looking up at him slightly.

Tom didn't say anything, he just stared at him blankly, mistrust blatant in his eyes. Harry sighed and stood up; what did he expect? It was early days yet. Harry remembered all too well how wary of adults he was at that age too. He would have to work hard to earn Tom's trust.

"Do you want to help me cook dinner?" Harry asked kindly.

Tom blinked at him, his head cocked to the side as he considered. "Okay." he followed Harry to the kitchen, his eyes not leaving him once. He had said he would never send him back to the orphanage, but could Tom trust him? His mind flashed back to when Mrs Cole had tricked him into showing some of his more mild abilities, only to be waylaid by a Priest who had deemed it necessary to perform an exorcism on him! Anger clouded his mind as he thought back on that past event, barely hearing Harry's soft words as he moved around the kitchen.

He had made Mrs Cole's life a living hell for a week straight after that event, and she had never tried to get him exorcised again. He felt a vicious pleasure as he remembered the way he had tormented her, revelling in the fact that he had contributed to her developing a nervous disposition.

"What would you like?" Harry's clear voice cut through Tom's dark musings, and just for a moment anger flashed naked across his face. But before Harry could blink twice and ponder over it, Tom had schooled his features into his usual blank mask.

"I don't mind, sir."

"I thought I told you to call me Harry?" the older of the two teased. Tom blinked at him before apologising stiffly. Harry sighed again. "Would you like spaghetti?"

Tom withheld his grimace, remembering the lukewarm, tasteless spaghetti that the orphanage served. However he was on his best behaviour, so he politely said 'yes please' and rolled up his sleeves to imitate Harry, who wanted him to help.

XXX

Tom's traitorous stomach rumbled loudly as Harry served him up an extra large helping of spaghetti, his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms in effort to get it stop, although of course it didn't work. The spaghetti tasted amazing compared to what he'd eaten at Wool's; the rich tomato sauce and combination of herbs for seasoning had his mouth watering. But Tom knew better than to give in to his hunger, he would wait for Harry to eat first.

This particular habit had been born from the other children playing a cruel joke on him a year ago, where they had spiked his food which had resulted in him being violently ill for three days straight. Ever since that unfortunate incident, he would never trust food someone gave to him.

Satisfied that Harry was eating and nothing bad had happened to him so far, Tom began to eat as well.

The meal passed in relative silence, with Harry asking inconsequential questions to try and spark a conversation to no avail. Tom's non-committal answers were soon enough for Harry to get the hint to shut up. Once they had both finished, Harry gestured for Tom to remain in his seat as he cleared the plates away.

"Tom." he said, suddenly serious. Tom sat up straight, sensing the change in tone. "I wasn't being entirely truthful to you in Mrs Cole's office, when I told you why I wanted to adopt you."

Tom's eyes flashed dangerously – he knew he shouldn't have trusted this strange, pathetic man! A burst of adrenaline had him sitting on the edge of his seat, his face darkening with every second that passed.

Harry almost lost his nerve at the boys expression, for one Earth tilting moment he was reminded of the Riddle he'd met in the cursed diary in his second year. He swallowed and steeled himself, reminding himself yet again that before him sat a neglected and unloved six year old. He instead decided to change tactics.

"Have you ever done anything...unusual?" he hesitantly asked, sagging in relief as this seemed to be the right thing to say.

"Unusual how?" Tom asked suspiciously, his heart beating faster. Harry sent him a mysterious half smile before waving his hand casually. His glass of water began to float, rising steadily above the table. Tom's eyes were as wide as saucers, he reached a cautious hand out and felt the air above and below the glass.

"No wires, no tricks." Harry let the glass float back down and it landed with a soft clink on the glass.

"Yes." Tom breathed, fire in his eyes.

"I knew you were special Tom, like me. That's why I had to help you. I know what it's like to be around people who don't fully understand you." Tom was practically glowing at Harry's observation. Yes, he was special, he had known it all his life and to finally have it validated by an adult was incredible. Although he didn't like the bit where Harry implied that they were both special, but that didn't bother him too much.

"I can make people do what I want and I can move things with my mind!" he rushed to say, suddenly wanting to prove how strong and powerful he was, how special he was. He kept his snake speaking talents a secret though, having learnt not to play all your cards at once. Harry frowned, not liking what Tom had said, but he didn't comment it. It wasn't the right time to have that conversation yet.

"There are more like us," he continued, although his voice had lost some of its soft edge, "you're a wizard Tom." the memory of Hagrid echoing the same words to him in that tiny little island hut on his eleventh birthday brought back fond memories. He wished he could relive the moment he found out magic was real again.

"Of course." Tom stated matter of factly. He nodded sagely as if that conclusion was obvious, making Harry chuckle at his antics. His smile loosened and Tom relaxed too, glad that whatever he had said or done that Harry hadn't liked had passed.

"Of course? Don't you have any questions for me?" Harry let out a carefree laugh, his head thrown back. Tom drank in the sight greedily. Harry ended up regretting that question, because for the rest of the entire evening, he had been inundated with questions from the curious child. Tom seemed to have forgotten himself in his excitement to learn about magic, and for the first time Harry saw an almost normally behaved child.

"Wait." Tom interrupted Harry's description of platform 9 and ¾. "You've said the word 'muggles' three times now, but you've yet to tell me what it means." Tom sent his carer a disproving look. Harry was once again struck by how damn formal Tom was for a six year old. Were all children in the 1930's like this, or was Tom once again the exception?

Harry pondered on what he was going to say carefully. He had been trying to avoid the topic of Purebloods and muggles and the prejudice that existed in the Wizarding World. Harry imagined that it was lot worse now than it was from his own time, and he had been planning on introducing Tom to these ideas when he was a little bit older, and when Harry had had more time to help influence his character.

"Muggles are non-magical people." He explained, watching the distaste on Tom's face.

"I suppose muggles don't know that Wizards and Witches are real?" Tom asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, they don't. We keep the magical world a secret from them -"

"Why?" Harry frowned at Tom interrupting him again. He wouldn't have minded save for the fact that whatever childish delight Tom had at first had morphed into something unsettling; Harry didn't like it one bit, it reminded him far too much of a mini Voldemort.

"It's not nice to interrupt people like that." he chided gently but firmly. Tom immediately looked contrite, although Harry had a nagging feeling that it wasn't entirely genuine.

"I apologise Mr Potter, I seem to have forgotten myself in my excitement." Tom looked down and then glanced up at him though his lashes, the way he had seen Amy Benson do to Mrs Cole to get what she wanted. As expected, Harry immediately softened, although Tom could tell he was still displeased with him.

I must try harder not to irritate him. Tom could not afford to forget himself like that again. He didn't trust Harry when he told him he would never send him back to the orphanage because adults lie and couldn't be trusted. Just like he himself lied more often than not.

Harry meanwhile had winced at Tom's sudden jump back to formality. The child had gone suddenly quite, and Harry started to feel guilty again.

I shouldn't be so hard on him. He probably doesn't know how to act, who'd have taught him any manners?

"C'mon, I think it's time you get ready for bed." Tom jumped up from the armchair, scowling as he followed Harry up the stairs. He couldn't think of anything worse than going to bed right now, not when he still had a thousand questions he wanted to ask. Harry seemed to dislike rudeness and being interrupted, which Tom filed away for future use. It was now imperative that he remained in Harry's good books at all costs, lest he lose his only connection to the Wizarding World.

Tom picked out a pair of emerald green silky pyjamas to wear that he'd bought earlier that day. He marvelled at how it felt on his skin, and was pleased that it would be his alone to wear. Back at the orphanage, they all shared nightdresses that would be washed and then dumped into a basket for them to grab at the end of the day. Tom hated it with a passion, the thought of having to share clothes with the other filthy, disgusting children saw him wearing only his underwear during the hot days of the summer months. Unfortunately during the winter, he had no choice but to suffer the shared clothing.

Harry appeared at the doorway hovering awkwardly, unsure of himself. He supposed he should tuck Tom in, but he really couldn't bring himself to do it. Tom folded his clothes neatly away and got into bed, one eyebrow raised in question.

"I know it's been a lot to take in today, but...well, I hope you'll be happy with me here." Harry admitted softly, coming to stand next to the bed. "If you need anything, I'm only down the hallway." Tom stared at him with endlessly dark eyes, silent. Harry patted him awkwardly on the head before retreating back to his own room.

Harry flopped ungracefully onto his bed, all the air rushing from his lungs. He quickly undressed, disliking how formal the clothes were that he wore. He missed wearing his usual ensemble of white t-shirt, jeans and trainers, but he could never wear that in this time period. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, especially in the part of London he had chosen to live in which was a rather well to do area.

Did Harry regret coming back to 1932? He wasn't sure. He'd originally taken the one way ticket back in time in order to kill Voldemort, but his conscious wouldn't let him. He couldn't justify murdering an innocent child for what he would grow up to be, could he? And then the dangerous idea had taken root in his mind...perhaps he could change the future?

Harry then knew there was no going back after that. He changed the entirety of his plans, buying a modest house near the orphanage where he knew Tom resided before working up the courage to go and get him.

Harry ran his hands through his hair laughing bitterly. Perhaps he'd acted too hastily, rushing back over 60 years into the past. Merlin, how could he even think he could be a father like figure to Tom when he was only 17 himself?

Maybe more like a big brother or a mentor...he mused, turning on his side. He gazed longingly at the pictures on his bedside table: Ginny smiled and waved at him, and Ron and Hermione were twirling and laughing. A sharp stab in his heart had him turning away once again and blinking back tears, he knew why he'd really travelled so rashly into the past...yes, it was to give everyone a better future without Lord Voldemort, but more than anything he wanted Ginny to live. Everyone had been distraught when they had discovered that she'd died during the final battle of Hogwarts -

Stop it Harry. She's not even been born yet. He told himself harshly. He had promised himself that he wouldn't dwell on the past – or was it the future? Did it even matter considering technically none of it had happened yet?

Harry got under the covers feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. But at least he had purpose, a mission in which failure wasn't an option.

He would live for that.