Teaching History (is Old News)
16 - Precipice
"I hate ties," Potter groans just as Tom comes downstairs. Tom himself is dressed in his best dress robes, black with a silver-blue trim and tie. First impressions are key to winning over potential new allies. Unlike Tom though, Potter still isn't properly dressed, surrounded instead, by a collection of atrocious patterned ties. He's never seen so many neon colours and polka dots in one sitting. Some of Potter's ties have beluga whales or dancing penguins on them.
"I thought I burned all of your unwearable clothing."
"Ha!" Potter points dramatically. "The culprit confesses to the crime!"
"I call it a liberation."
"Dress it up how you like, sweater killer."
"And you say you hate puns."
Potter turns pale. "Oh no. Oh no, I made a pun. A dad joke. I'm getting old! I'm not current anymore. Say it isn't true, I'm only nineteen, soon I'll be eighty and wither and die—"
"You won't die anytime soon, because I'll bring you to life and kill you myself if you do," Tom snaps, yanking the neon yellow tie away from Potter's hands. "Wizards have a lifespan longer than the average muggle, if anything, you will be living until you are one hundred and fifty and continuing to twitter your false prophecies to your future students if you haven't been fired by then."
"Oh? So you don't think I'm a seer anymore?"
"I do. But I sense you enjoy leading people on. What was the term that I learned today? Trolling?" Tom smirks at Potter's baffled expression. "Yes, I believe this term fits what you do very well. Now hold still."
"I can't believe you know internet lingo. Who taught you?! Was it the twins? No, wait, someone muggle… Dean Thomas? Ababi?! And what are you doing with that tie, I hate that one. It's too green! I feel like it's a purple day actually…" Somehow Potter manages to stay as still as a statue while Tom secures the tie around his neck.
"This celebration is a great opportunity to secure more sponsors—" connections for his cause, "for our careers. I won't have you making a fool of yourself in front of anyone of significant importance, especially when I eventually prove that you're a true seer—" Tom ignores Potter's groan, "—and this tie matches the only suitable dress robes you own."
And those eyes.
"There," Tom steps back. He's rather surprised at how well these dress robes highlight Potter's best features. They don't seem to be Potter's typical style (muggle, oversized, neon coloured, animal-themed) but more aristocratic. Tom suddenly has an urge to throw a sweater, any sweater, and throw it back on Potter's head so that he'll look like himself again. "…You almost look like a proper wizard."
Potter huffs, turning away. "I'm beginning to think you just like dressing me up."
"Please," Tom scoffs, "you wouldn't need help dressing up if you knew what proper fashion looks like."
"I don't hear a denial there," Potter sings as he walks out the door, paper cranes following to nestle back in his hair. Hedwig glowers at Tom, as if to say, I'm watching you, before following too. Tom doesn't bother telling Potter not to bring his familiars. Potter never listens.
"Just be on your best behavior," Tom grits out, not willing to have the evening ruined because of another whimsical whim of Potter's.
"Whatever you say, dear."
Tom decides to ignore that and keep walking.
:
The great hall has been transformed with long Hogwarts banners and crystal ornaments. It resembles something more like a Yule Ball in a pureblood home than an eccentric castle haunted by stranger ghosts. Tom barely recognizes it, only the enchantment on the ceiling (to make the night sky visible) hints at the Great Hall's former appearance.
Already, wealthy sponsors have arrived, holding wine glasses as they speak with different professors about their research. Tom spots Lucius Malfoy eyeing the muggle studies professor with disdain and the Minister of Magic, Fudge, nodding with confusion at Flitwick's enthusiastic rant about the future of mago-tech charms. A few visitors from other countries appear to be speaking with Dumbledore and even Snape seems to be in deep discussion with someone about the next step to improving the Wolfsbane potion.
"Oh no, I see Regulus. Uh…" Potter tries to duck behind Tom. "Pretend I don't exist!"
"That's rather difficult to do," Tom mutters, smiling politely, but standing still nonetheless. As expected, Black notices them both nonetheless (perhaps because of the particular loathing he seems to have for Tom) and storms over with a frosty smile.
"Harry, Riddle," Black nods at them both. "I wasn't expecting you both to arrive together…"
"We share an office," Tom says bluntly, "therefore it's not unlikely we would leave for this gathering at the same time."
With the exception of Bellatrix, the Black family have yet to won over by Tom's cause (a fact he has long stopped worrying about, the Blacks are more trouble than they're worth. Exhibit A: Regulus Black's irrational hostilities when anyone so much as stands near his kin. Exhibit B: Sirius Black's near-homicidal urges to literally curse people who touched his godson.) He can always arrange for Regulus and Sirius Black's deaths so that Bellatrix will become the house heir instead. No need to bother with the pretense of polite conversation.
"An office, really? I was under the impression that Hogwarts has hundreds of empty classrooms that a professor could happily camp out in if there are no available offices," Regulus Black's smile grows sharper and sharper.
"The school doesn't like us sleeping in its classrooms, don't you remember me telling me you, Uncle Reg?" Potter, to Tom's horror, bats his eyes at Black, somehow gaining all the persuasive powers of a dying kitten.
Black's smile wavers. "Harry," he says in an indecipherable tone.
"Oh look! Cream-puffed shrimp, I think I'm going to go eat one. Or three. Or twelve. Bye," Potter scurries over to a floating tray of snacks.
"Potter," Tom frowns, not wanting to be subject to another interrogation from the likes of Black.
But for once, Black doesn't seem to care about threatening Tom, as he marches after Potter, saying loudly, "Harry, we have to talk about this. What would Sirius say? Have you even visited him lately—"
Potter stops abruptly, nearly knocking over the tray. A pained look that makes Tom clench his fists from how unsettling it is. "Of course I have. He's Sirius, do you think—"
Whatever Black thinks, Tom doesn't hear it for Bellatrix interrupts, beaming widely at Tom with her arms open. "My L—I mean, Riddle! How wonderful it is to see you!"
Regulus Black, like a predator sensing someone intruding at the edges of his territory (otherwise known as anyone categorized as a threat to one Harry Potter or Sirius Black) immediately steps in front of Tom, the frigid smile somehow a hundred times more glacial at the sight of his cousin. "Bella. What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know that you were still running around in these circles."
Translation: I didn't know you weren't bankrupt yet.
Disturbing enough (and proving herself to be a true Black), Bellatrix returns the frigid smile several degrees colder. "My darling, cute little Reggy, still following your dear brother's footsteps after he failed to live up to the family name?"
Translation: Still a blood traitor?
"I think I see Professor McGonagall calling us, please excuse us," Tom bows slightly, lightly pushing Potter on the back so that they're concealed by the crowd. Hopefully the cordial setting will curb any explosive outbursts from the latest Black family drama.
"Ah, wait, I didn't say hi to that lady yet—"
No. Absolutely not. Tom refuses to have Potter and Bellatrix's first meeting happen at this event. Anything could happen, with murder high on the list. While Regulus and Sirius Black may have prevented them from meeting out of fear for their godson/kin, Tom merely wants a peaceful and productive evening.
"I think I see treacle tart floating by Professor McGonagall."
"What, where?"
Potter happily goes where directed.
McGonagall appears to be deep in conversation with Amelia Bones about the possibilities and ethical implications of using transfiguration to solve muggle hunger problems. Dull, but Tom participates in their conversation briefly to further his status in Madam Bones's eyes. Potter, irritatingly enough, leaves as soon as he gets his tart. Tom will have to keep an eye on him to keep him out of trouble…
"My Lord," Crouch stands beside him, offering a glass of champagne. He bows with the same reverence that all his followers do, only his actions have always been the most pronounced. "I pray your time at Hogwarts has given you good health."
"…It has," Tom nods. The ring on his finger, his Horcrux, guarantees his physical and mental health. Productivity, on the other hand… Tom frowns. "I've created a positive rapport with the students. I believe by December, when they trust me, I will begin slowly recruiting a few at a time to our cause."
Crouch's gaze shines with a disturbing fervor, one that Bellatrix often shares. "As expected of you, my Lord. I myself have found many colleagues who are amiable to your charisma. They would be willing to meet you over the Yule holidays to discuss sponsorship…"
"Excellent," triumph sings through Tom's veins. One steps closer to changing the wizarding world… "Carrow has made more progress with the giants," though it took a lot of tedious whining, "and Avery and Dolohov have given me good news as well. We will have another meeting this weekend to discuss how we will move forward."
"I will inform my contacts."
"And…" Tom pauses. Crouch is the only one he would consider giving this information to at this stage. While Crouch may be as feverishly devoted as Bellatrix can be, he is contradictorily the most competent and levelheaded.
Crouch notes the pause, and leans in. "Yes, my Lord?"
"…If you find anyone in the Department of Mysteries, who knows more about seers, I would like to contact them."
Crouch nods. If he's curious about Tom's sudden interest in divination, he doesn't question it. Tom doesn't doubt that Bellatrix and Crouch believe that their Lord is above superstition, above prophecies and the laws of magic. But even Tom knows that he's just a man (a man with a horcrux.) Even Tom knows that death can't be so easily evaded.
If Potter is the seer he so dearly desires, he could avoid Death forever. He can be better than human.
:
Somehow Tom finds himself in deep discussion with the minister of magic and a few traveling Potions Masters about his latest findings on dark creatures in Romania. But he keeps an eye out for Potter, watching him from the corner of his eye for any trouble.
Surprisingly, Potter seems well-behaved. But perhaps Tom should stop being so surprised around Potter and expect the unexpected. Potter seems to have charmed most of the party into believing he is reforming Divination into a new wave study of meditation and self-actualization without giving any hints of false prophecies (or true ones.) He also does a good job of avoiding Regulus Black (though Bellatrix has distracted that man all evening. They seem to have engaged into a debate about manners, a debate that truly has nothing to do with manners.) Yet while Potter certainly participates in conversation with these sponsors he never seeks them out, never seems to put his full attention on their words, his gaze looking far beyond them…
Until someone claps a hand on Potter's shoulder and he looks at them with clarity, a sparkle in his eyes that Tom has never really seen before—
"Neville! Cedric!" Potter jumps up to embrace them. "Ahh, it's been so long! How are you doing? How's the ministry job treating you, Ced? Oh, and the traveling! Neville, tell me you got me a pet turtle from Australia, pleaseee!"
Tom frowns, the urge to portkey Potter away strong in his mind. He forgot how affectionate Potter began to be around Longbottom, Diggory, and Chang as he grew older. Potter's friendship with Chang has toned down, since they're colleagues at work, but with Diggory and Longbottom…
Longbottom looks too comfortable with Potter hanging off his neck.
"Riddle? You were saying about the magical properties of the Lapin Reve…?" a Potions Master, someone important from Austria, says.
"Of course. I lost my train of thought. Forgive me, gentlemen," Tom invites his most convincing smile, "As I was saying, the venom from the Lapin Reve could have numerous uses in the future of the Potion Arts…"
He doesn't grit his teeth at the sound of Potter's laughter.
:
Long into the discussion, one of the Potions Masters suddenly brightens and shouts, "Rubeus! Come here! This Riddle bloke seems as knowledgeable about magical creatures as you are! Why don't you two compare notes?"
Hagrid, red from too much wine, no doubt, pales when he sees him.
Tom only bows his head slightly. "We've met."
"Wonderful!" the Potions Master, a Mr. Kwan, claps, unaware of the tension. "Perhaps you should collaborate on a project together, I would love to see what kind of ingredients you two can extract from beings as deadly as the Lapin Reve."
"Hm," Tom doesn't comment. As if he will subject himself into working willingly with a careless handler like Rubeus Hagrid.
Hagrid appears to be thinking the same thing but says a hopeful, "The Lapin Reve?" when another voice interrupts.
"Is this going to be a joint thing? Can I help to? Charlie Weasley. Dragonologist and dragon handler from the Romania devision, by the way," a redhead cuts in.
Urgh, Tom inwardly frowns. He forgot about this Weasley. There are too many of them. He recalls Charlie Weasley spending quite a bit of time with Potter in First Year before he graduated.
"Perhaps," Tom tries to think of a way to decline when Kwan nods.
"Perfect! It's decided! I will await your findings at the next Potions Conference in August! Let me set up a contract…"
"Great!" Charlie Weasley claps his hands over Tom and Hagrid's shoulders. "I can't wait to get to know more of little Harry's friends!"
Tom narrows his eyes. Potter.
"I don't get to see him often but this will give me an excuse to come visit him and the family. I think mum will be pleased. So what's your background like, Riddle? I've collaborated with Hagrid before but you're pretty new to the field, aren't you? What's your specialization?"
The dark and unknown. Soul magic. Legilimency. Becoming a Dark Lord.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Tom says drily.
"Oh! Okay, that's different. But cool, we don't get a lot of cross-disciplinary work happening in the Magical Creatures field. Why did you—"
"Ah, I see Malfoy. Excuse me, I promised I would give him a very important letter," Tom steps away, resisting the urge to wipe his shoulder.
"Oh but—"
"Riddle's a bit busy, Charlie. Why don't we get some firewhiskey and you tell me about those Hungarian Horntails, gorgeous creatures…"
At least Hagrid knows how to read a social situation.
Tom steps towards Lucius, bowing his head in greeting.
"Lord Riddle," Lucius says, refusing to call Tom by his new name or his old one.
"Lucius," he nods. "Are your sons present as well?"
"Yes. They're mingling. I've convinced them to consider your offer. Abraxus seems in favour but Draco will need more… concrete evidence of your power."
Tom appreciates the blunt warning. Lucius is never one to play pureblood games with those more powerful.
"I could go convince him right now. Where is he?"
Lucius sighs. "I believe to seek out Potter."
Tom's fingers twitch. "Pardon?"
"Agreed," Lucius scoffs. "I don't understand his obsession with a half—I mean, an incompetent wizard—either but Draco has always been the odd one compared to Abraxus."
"Excuse me," Tom steps back.
"But Lord Riddle, about that book—"
Tom rushes past, spots Draco Malfoy's blond hair in the crowd…
Potter's cheeks look flushed. His ears are crimson and he keeps staggering over and righting himself up, batting Draco Malfoy's hands away from his waist.
"…Told you to go away… You're going to turn into a ferret, I can't be with you…"
"Potter, no, Harry—stop making ridiculous excuses! I can provide you with protection, financial security. Just one date and—"
"I'm sorry but I think I should escort my colleague back to his room. He tends to get very sick when he drinks," Tom lies, stepping in between both and placing his hand back on Potter's back.
Draco Malfoy sneers. "Riddle. I can take him there myself, you—"
"—Am his roommate. Now, if you'll excuse us," Tom smiles brightly.
He drags Potter away from Draco Malfoy's glare.
"Everything is spinning… it's too much…" Potter murmurs from Tom's shoulder.
"Maybe you shouldn't have drank so much," Tom snaps.
"M'didn't drink… There was a funny colour when I volunteered to try a potion… I don't think I was allowed to do that… Potion Master Inez didn't look happy… She gave me an anti… antibiotic? Antidote! That's the word! Said I should drink it every two hours…"
Tom almost drops Potter right there.
"You drank an experimental potion without permission from the Potions Master?! Why?!"
"I have… I have no idea… I just… Voices are too loud. Everything… It looked like… It looked like poison…"
"Why would you think it's a good idea to ingest something you think is poison?!"
"Thought they'd kill someone… there's a murder afoot! Always murder…."
Nothing Potter says makes any sense. This moron needs a keeper, Tom doesn't understand how he's alive if his actions are so reckless, so intent on suicidal idiocy… Perhaps Regulus and Sirius Black's actions have not been so unwarranted after all…
"No one's trying to murder you."
"You have. You will. No, no, that's not right… not this you… But you think it. I know you do. It… It hurts, Tom…" Potter's voice falters, so quiet and shaken, the way it was in Third Year…
"…I don't want to kill you…" Tom says slowly. Though he has thought of it. Many times. But never with true killing intent.
Potter's lip trembles. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Tom scowls. "I need a seer, don't I?"
"What if I'm not one?"
Tom stops. He could ask Potter right now. Potter's vulnerable. Confused. Tom could coerce Potter into admitting anything. His strange problems with Sirius Black, some sort of blackmail… and use it against him.
Potter would be powerless.
But…
Seeing those wide eyes, threaded with Avada Kedevra green, with memories of a grassy field by the lake, Tom only says, "Then you're not."
The air feels charged. Tense. Strange. As if Tom is walking along a great precipice, a moment rooted in time. One misstep, and he'll be sent hurtling into a path he cannot turn back from. He carries Potter through the door to their office, places him down on the hammock. Potter seems so small, unimportant, as he nestles against his blankets… and yet Tom has never wanted to keep someone's attention on him like this before.
Just one question. Just one insidious fact, and he could keep Potter by his side, could dismantle all of his secrets except—
(A moment – Potter, half-exhausted and laughing, and no one has ever smiled like that at Tom Riddle like that before—"…As if… I would… cheat like that… I respect… you too much… to be satisfied… with a cheap win…"—would Potter look at him like this if he knew who Lord Voldemort is?)
Lord Voldemort leaves.
The gathering is not yet over, and he has followers to recruit.
:
Voldemort wakes to Potter sitting cross-legged on his bed, frowning. Even the cranes seem subdued, all quiet and still in his hair like faded corpses. Hedwig appears to be nowhere in sight, perhaps arguing with Nagini elsewhere.
"What is it?" he snaps. "It's," he checks the clock, "three o'clock in the morning. Go back to sleep."
"You had a chance to ask me an important question."
Voldemort doesn't move. He didn't think Potter would be coherent enough to remember. He decides not to answer. "About the dueling club? We can wait till tomorrow. Now go to bed."
"Why didn't you?"
"Potter—"
"Why didn't you?" he repeats, solemn and quiet, looking very much like the boy on the train he met in First Year.
"…I respect you too much…" the words slip out, unbidden, "…to win with such a cheap tactic."
Those eyes are like a Medusa's, they could turn a wizard to stone. They seem to search, dig deep, and then, impossibly—
Potter cracks a weary smile.
"Okay then. I don't think I can avoid this. You win, Tom."
Wait, what—
"I am a seer."
Tom jolts up, thoughts frantic and racing, all the possibilities—he knew Potter was special, he knew it—
"But not the kind you think."
EDITED CHAPTER - Nov 15, 2019