Chapter III: Changes

Tom sat quietly at the dining table, watching as Harry placed a bowl of sweetened porridge in front of him for breakfast. Tom was pleased that Harry knew how to make proper porridge – thick, hot and tasty – and not the watered down, flavourless slop they had been served back at Wool's. It just made it all the clearer that Harry belonged with him. He knew just what Tom liked and would be able to provide it for him, as well as helping him to deepen his understanding of the Wizarding World.

Tom had found it difficult to sleep the night before, but he had to admit that he was frightfully worried about attending Hogwarts when he turned eleven. The other children who were born into Wizardry would most likely already know so many spells; they would know Wizarding etiquette, and worst of all they would laugh at him for being a muggle. But wait, muggles were non-magical folk, and Tom did have magic, so what was he?

"Mr Potter," he ventured cautiously, gauging Harry's willingness to talk, "if I'm not a muggle, does that make me a pureblood?"

Harry put his spoon down, considering his response. He had to be careful on how he chose to proceed, his next words could be the foundation which shape Tom's ideals as he grows up.

"You're a half-blood, Tom."

Tom frowned in thought. "So only one of my parents were magical?" he asked.

"Yes, just like me. I'm a half-blood as well."

"It was obviously my father then." Tom suddenly declared; his tone brooked no argument. "My mother couldn't have been a Witch, otherwise she wouldn't have died."

"It wasn't your father," Harry gently interjected, "Riddle isn't a Wizarding surname. Your mother was a Witch." Harry watched as the child withdrew into himself at these words. He continued to eat, although Harry desperately wanted to know what was going through his head? What could he be thinking, to have such a dark look on his face?

Tom was furious.

He felt a rush of dark anger shooting through his veins – so his mother had been a Witch? Well, she was clearly weak and useless if she allowed herself to die giving birth to him. Tom immediately discarded her in his mind; she was no longer worth a single wasted thought.

How pathetic. He thought to himself, not noticing how his magic was reacting to his anger. The teacups began to rattle ominously on the shelf nearby. His father wasn't worth a second thought either, since he was just a muggle. Tom despaired to know that his parents were nothing special themselves. He thought that he must have come from some sort of greatness, since he was so special himself, but to know both of his parents were…were so pitiable made his blood boil.

"Tom?" he was startled out of his spiralling thoughts by Harry's warm hand resting on his exposed forearm. Tom stared at it, a strange expression on his face.

"Yes sir?"

"What's gotten you so upset?" Harry asked.

"My parents were pathetic. I'm glad my mother is dead; she didn't deserve life if she was so weak. And as for my father –" Tom paused, painful anger making his fingers flex, "I hope he is dead too." To say Harry was alarmed to hear such vicious words leaving a six-year olds mouth was an understatement! He almost recoiled but managed to avoid the action, reminding himself that it would be times like these were Tom would need his influence more than anything.

"That's not a nice thing to say. Of course your mother didn't want to die, Tom. It wasn't her fault. And you father – well, that's a slightly more complicated story." It wasn't the right time to tell Tom about how his mother and father got to together, definitely not. He'd need to wait until the boy was much older.

"How so?" Tom demanded.

"I'll tell you when you're older." Harry said firmly, picking up their bowls. Tom followed him, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"Is he still alive?" he asked quietly, dipping his head a little. Harry seemed to soften when he acted like one of the stupid brats from the orphanage, so he would use it to his advantage. Harry's hesitation was all the answer he needed.

Harry knew that he had unintentionally given the answer away. For a moment, he feared Tom would go mad and Harry would have to subdue him, but instead he breathed a sigh of relief when whatever battle that was taking place in Tom's mind ended.

"It doesn't matter about him, or anyone in fact."

Harry's head was spinning as he methodically scrubbed the bowls clean. "Why?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I have you now." Tom said, as if it were that simple. Harry supposed that it was that simple in a child's mind. A warm glow gradually suffused through his chest and he couldn't stop the bright grin on his face.

See, this is what Harry was hoping for. It was miraculous that Tom already felt like he could rely on him after one day! This is what should have happened the first time round! If he'd had support when he found out about his parents, he wouldn't have gone so crazy, or feel the need to go and kill Tom Riddle senior. Harry's resolve had strengthened, he knew he had made the right decision in not killing the poor kid.

"Do you want to go and get some ice cream today?" he asked cheerily. Tom raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Yes please." He responded, trying to analyse Harry's sudden mood shift. What had Tom said that had made the man so happy? Before he had looked stricken at Tom's declaration about his parents, but then…oh. His lips curled into a smirk as Harry bustled around, getting them their shoes.

Mr Potter had obviously liked it when Tom said he had him now. Tom rolled his eyes in disgust; it seemed that his caregiver was exceptionally emotional, and very sensitive to Tom's own emotions. Tom was smart though; Tom could work with emotional. It made people much better to manipulate in doing what you wanted, especially when they weren't any good at hiding their emotions.

Yes, Harry Potter would do just nicely as Tom's caregiver.

XXX

They strolled leisurely down to the ice cream vendor together as Harry happily chatted away, trying to fill the silence. He made the effort to hold Tom's hand as they walked, although neither of them particularly wanted to do that. Tom thought about pulling away, until he saw other children holding their parent's hands. A strong sense of possessiveness threatened to overwhelm him, so to satisfy it he held Harry's hand even tighter as if to say, 'see, I have someone who is looking after me too!'.

Harry took this at confirmation that Tom did in fact enjoy having his hand held, and he felt deliriously happy that he was starting to trust him.

"Hello there, son!" the ice cream vendor stooped down so he could see Tom better. "Which flavour would you like?" Tom immediately disliked this friendly man and was itching to get away from him.

"Vanilla." He answered quickly, checking to see Harry's reaction. Harry looked pleased, which in turn made Tom feel pleased.

"Where're your manners?" Harry half joked, nudging Tom with his side.

"Please excuse me sir," he directed to the vendor, a fake smile on his face, "I would very much like vanilla."

"What an excellent young man you've got here." The vendor directed to Harry, who himself felt pride welling up in his chest. Yes, his Tom was already different from Voldemort, he could tell, and he was proud of that fact.

Tom received his ice cream but to his dismay, Mr Potter and the vendor started to chat! Tom was indignant, didn't Harry know that Tom hated this man? He felt a coil of jealously settle itself in his stomach. Who said this worthless muggle could talk to his Harry? Why weren't they leaving? He wanted to go and sit on their bench and relax.

He glared daggers at the vendors head, his indignation slowly turning into a dull, aching anger. He concentrated hard on the breaks on the vending cart and watched with dark satisfaction as he slowly eased them off. The cart began to slowly roll away, much to his glee. But it wasn't quick enough to his liking. He let his magic lash out and the cart rolled away much faster than should have been possible on a flat pavement.

"Oh! Do excuse me!" the vendor hurried after it.

Harry looked down and saw the dark smile of satisfaction on Tom's face. It wasn't hard to put two and two together, plus Harry felt a breeze of Tom's magic as he'd lashed out.

"That wasn't very nice." He murmured out the corner of his mouth. Tom looked up, scandalised at having been caught, but Harry's admonishment was accompanied by a barely suppressed smile, so Tom knew he wasn't really in trouble.

They spent some time eating their ice cream on what was now their bench. Harry had wordlessly cast a charm that kept their ice cream from melting, which further fuelled Tom's desire to start learning about spells as soon as possible.

After about half an hour of aimless wandering, they returned home. Tom liked very much being able to call the brick townhouse his 'home'. It wasn't as big as he would have liked, but he confident that Harry would be able to upgrade them eventually. He just had to be patient.

"Now Tom, we have to discuss your education." Harry turned to face him, hands on his hips. He seemed nervous, although Tom couldn't tell why. "Have you ever been to school?"

Tom's mind drifted back to the exceedingly boring lessons he'd had once a week back at the orphanage. Every Wednesday, a run-down little man would appear and bore all the children half to death on whatever he fancied that day. He would hardly call it an education.

"Not really. A man used to come and visit us once a week at the orphanage, but he was useless." He answered honestly.

Harry stifled a giggle; it was funny to see someone as small and young as Tom speaking like an adult.

"Yes, well…you'll still need an education before you go to Hogwarts."

"Why?" Tom demanded, not liking that idea one bit. "Why can't I just study and prepare for Hogwarts until its time for me to go? I don't have any use for muggle subjects." Harry was alarmed at how Tom seemed to already be developing a prejudice against non-magical people, he'd have to nip that in the bud as soon as possible.

"You shouldn't disregard muggles, Tom. Many Wizards have made that mistake in the past. Muggles have a lot to offer Wizards."

"Like what?" Tom scoffed. He'd only seen glimpses of magic in action, such as Harry's charm with the ice cream or him levitating the glass, and already Tom knew without a doubt that magic was far superior than anything muggles had to offer.

"The Wizarding World is...it suffers from stagnation. Its growth is very slow, not just technically but also their ideals. They're very outdated – they don't keep up with muggles in that respect."

Idiot, he probably hasn't understood a word you said. Sometimes Harry forgot that Tom was only six, he seemed wiser beyond his years sometimes, using words that Harry hadn't even heard of until he was a pre-teen.

"I see. This must be to do with Purebloods?" Once again Tom had proven how astute he was. Harry really didn't want talk about this topic though; how on earth could he explain it all in a way that a six-year-old would understand. It was far too much for one little mind to understand. Plus, Harry didn't like how every conversation they had involving magic somehow ended up back here.

"Yes, although we're getting off topic now." Tom frowned and opened his mouth as if he were going to argue, but then he stopped and thought better of it. "You have two options: you can go to school, or you can be home schooled by me."

"I choose you." Tom said automatically. Anything that didn't involve Harry was simply out of the question. He needed to keep an eye on him and make sure that he didn't fall out of the mans favour, and he couldn't do that if he were trapped in a horrible school filled with sneering teacher and awful children who would no doubt hate him.

"Really?" Harry couldn't say he was too surprised, he was counting on the fact that Tom would want to stay with him, but he couldn't help but feel pleased nonetheless. It was nice having someone rely on him for the simple things in life – yes, no Dark Lord here to defeat, no lives needed to be saved. It was heaven for Harry. But the familiar weight of the task he had before him always found its way back. Harry didn't think he'd be able to relax until Tom was probably 30 and had shown no inclinations to becoming a Dark Lord.

"Of course." Tom sent him a suddenly disarming smile; one he hadn't seen before on his face. He could tell it was a genuine one though, he longed to see a proper smile light up the boy's face, but he would get there eventually.

"Great, I guess we need another shopping trip then huh?"

XXX

They had spent that day and the following Friday amassing a collection of books on different muggle sciences, arts, history, English and maths. Tom could admit that he was interested to see what he could learn from Harry, and if his wonderfully magical caregiver would be a good teacher.

"Have you got any idea what you'd want to be when you're older?" Harry asked conversationally over their chicken and potato dinner.

"I want to be powerful and respected. I want to be feared." Tom answered quietly, his eyes glazed over as he was lost in some fantasy.

"Why feared?"

"Because that is the only way to get respect. People won't cross you if they fear you." Tom explained as if Harry were stupid.

"Fear will never get you true respect. If power and respect are really what you crave, the best way to get that is through love." Harry countered, his eyes intense.

Tom let out a dark, disbelieving laugh. Honestly, poor Harry was more naive than he thought! How he had managed to survive so far without Tom he had no idea. Tom would really have to look after him if he was to get through life unscathed – he clearly had no idea how brutal the world could be.

"Love will only get you hurt." Harry didn't seem to like that answer. Something twinged in Tom's chest.

"I once knew two extremely powerful Wizards – they were strongest in the whole Wizarding World." Harry began sombrely, Tom was hanging off his every word. "One ruled through fear, and the other love. They were in a decades long war and many died for them. Guess who won in the end?"

Tom remained silent, glaring at the wall just past Harry.

"You say you don't want to be crossed – who would be more likely to cross you? Someone who feared you, disliked you? Or someone who genuinely liked you and considered you an ally? I hope you'll think about what I've said Tom. The best way to be respected and to gain power, is through love." Tom shifted his dark gaze to Harry, his countenance softening imperceptibly.

Maybe Mr Potter was right? It did make more sense that if someone feared you and resented you, they would be more likely to cross you. Unless they were so scared that double-crossing could never even cross their mind? Tom wasn't sure, but he tucked Harry's words away for further analysis.

XXX

June soon turned into July and with that came Harry's approaching 18th birthday. He hadn't told Tom it was his birthday; he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Don't be an idiot, if you're going to bring him up like a normal child, then birthdays will have to be celebrated – most importantly his. Harry looked up from where he was reading peacefully to find Tom's dark eyes already pinned on him.

"What's wrong?" the child finally asked.

"Nothing's wrong." Harry murmured, wondering how on earth Tom could have known something was up. Tom sent him a dark glare, his studies forgotten.

"Don't lie to me. You don't lie to me ever." He hissed, suddenly angry. Harry closed his book carefully, aware that he had to proceed delicately. He wasn't sure what had set Tom off. Harry knew that the kid still had a volatile temper, but he hadn't seen him get this angry before. He supposed it was only a matter of time,

"Tom –" Harry gestured helplessly into the air,

"I won't stand for it! Not one bit! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO LIE TO ME!" Tom had jumped up to his feet, his face pale with fury. Just as he'd done that with his magic coalescing around him, Harry's scar suddenly exploded with pain.

XXX

Harry groaned, his head throbbing painfully. He found that he couldn't move though and looked down in alarm – Tom Riddle was curled up next to him in bed.

"Tom?" Harry croaked, unsure as to what had happened. He let his hands run through the child's dark locks, suddenly wary. His scar had hurt – was it because of Tom's anger? How could that be though, when the connection hadn't been established yet? Perhaps it was reacting to Tom's magical signature.

"Harry!" he was suddenly pounced on, Tom's strong head bouncing off of his collar bone rather painfully. But Harry didn't mind the pain, he was too focused on the fact that Tom had finally called him by his name.

It had only taken a month. Harry thought wryly to himself. He tried to pry the child off of him but found that Tom's grip was iron-clad.

"Tom, what's going on? What happened?" He asked gently. How had he managed to get him into bed? Tom blinked up at him with red rimmed eyes, and Harry realised with a start that the boy had been crying.

"I hurt you with my magic." Tom whispered, his long lashes clumped together from tears. He looked tragically beautiful, Harry thought to himself.

"It's okay Tom, you didn't mean to. That's what we call 'accidental magic'. It's quite common in untrained, young Wizards."

"It is?" Tom was still clinging stubbornly to his neck.

"Yes, especially when they're feeling emotional. Did you know that when I was thirteen, I blew up my Aunt Marge like a balloon?" Harry smiled as Tom let out a huff of air as a laugh.

"Really?" Harry marvelled at how young and vulnerable Tom seemed, clinging to him as if his life depended on it. He must have been scared that Harry was going to send him back to the orphanage.

"Yes. But we must talk about what had you so upset first." Harry said sternly. Tom's face darkened and he shook his head vigorously.

"No. You need to rest and eat first. I – I've made dinner." Tom rushed to say, a faint blush to his cheeks. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. What time was it? He glanced to the wall to look at the clock.

"It's Sunday evening, you've been asleep for over twelve hours." Tom explained, allowing Harry to lift him up into a sitting position.

"Oh Tom," Harry's heart swelled, and he pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Poor kid, he must have been scared out of his mind. "You must be starving! Did you make sure to eat?"

Tom nodded, secretly glad that Harry was fussing over him how he was.

"Come, let's eat. What did you make?" Harry asked curiously. Tom pulled him by the hand down the kitchen gently. He kept throwing Harry worried looks over his shoulder, making sure he was okay. Harry was surprised to find spaghetti for their dinner, cooked just like he had done their first night together.

Tom stood off to the side, his expression blank although the twitching of his fingers revealed how nervous he was feeling.

"This is wonderful Tom. Thank you very much." Harry carelessly dropped a kiss on the top of Tom's head, feeling thoroughly touched. Tom stiffened, his face heating up. He shook his head and raced forwards, telling Harry that he would serve him and that he should sit down and relax.

They ate in a comfortable silence, although Tom still felt unsure of how to act. Harry didn't seem mad at him, but how could he know for certain?

"Tom, I promised you I'd never send you back to the orphanage, didn't I?" Harry had correctly guessed what had Tom so on edge. He cupped his face keeping his attention on himself. Tom nodded, finally relaxing a little bit.

"Oh." Harry exclaimed quietly, "today's my birthday."