Teaching History (is Old News)

18 - Something More

"…A seer is a seer. What else could you be?"

Potter looks at Tom with the type of exasperation Tom usually directs towards him.

"You… are really slow, aren't you?"

Tom shoves his pillow at Potter's face. "I am one of the brightest minds of our generation, the top of our graduating class. I am anything but slow!"

"Then you're stubborn! You have this fixed view and stereotype of Divination and you refuse any suggestion that it might be a little bit different! Last time I checked, I was the one that took Trelawney's class when we were in school, not you!"

"…I took it in Third Year before I dropped it for something more useful…" If Trelawney had made one more prediction about Potter dying by the end of the year one more time, Tom might have blown a crystal ball in her face. He had wanted to learn more about fate not hear about an impossibility.

"That doesn't count. Trelawney wasn't the best teacher. But still, maybe you should listen to my explanation first before you start brainstorming the next step to your dark and evil plans to conquer the world."

Tom's breath stops.

"Yes, that's right, I know you're probably recruiting followers for your Death Eater thing. It's part of the seer thing. I wasn't sure if you were really calling them Death Eaters in this timeline, but Merlin, you are! Did you really have to name them that? What about something more constructive like, Dark Magic Dabblers or something cute like Snake Pals? No one sane is going to want to join an organization where the members are called Death Eaters, it just screams tragedy—"

"Potter!" Tom snaps, resisting the urge to defend the name (as someone who has conquered death, of course Death Eaters is the most appropriate name!) "Just… explain already."

Potter blinks at him. "Oh. Right. What am I explaining again?"

"Your seer abilities!"

"Oh. Oh yes, well. Like I said, I'm not your typical seer."

"And...?"

Potter nods solemnly, crossing his arms, head bowed down. "I'm… an adorable one."

Seconds pass in silence.

Tom explodes, "You woke me up for THIS?! Are you, or ARE YOU NOT, a bloody seer?!"

He's about to launch himself at Potter and perhaps tie up him for interrogation, when Potter says, "I've seen some timelines where you create seven horcruxes and lose your sanity. I've seen others where you never live past the age sixteen, murdered by the very professors you tried to deceive. In some timelines, you get everything you ever wanted but the price is too high. You're no longer you. You might as well be a mindless killing machine. In those timelines, I don't believe there is a single thread of Tom Riddle left in you."

Cold settles into Tom's chest at these terrible futures. And then excitement, because he can avoid these fates now that he has Potter by his side, he can—

"I used to be the type of seer that could see this world's future alone. But, well, ever since you pushed me down the stairs… I just…" Potter looks away, his scar brighter than ever, "I see everything. All these possibilities in different worlds, different timelines… I can't get it to stop. I can't control it. So I can't help you. Not the way you want me to."

"…Wait," Tom processes through the new information, "you can see possibilities."

Potter winces. "Something like that. Different what-ifs. Pretty useless, I know."

"Then, you can technically see how other versions of myself have failed…"

"Yeah… you probably don't want to hear about that…"

"That is excellent."

"…Did you listen to anything I said?"

"No, this… opens up everything!" Tom leaps out of bed and begins pacing back and forth. "Tell me every possible version of myself you have seen! I need to know every detail! Where they failed, I will succeed!"

"Tom," Potter says firmly, "sit back down. I'm not going to tell you that."

"Why?!" He whirls back around. "You've revealed yourself to me, you've decided to be an asset, an ally—"

"No, I'm literally tired of second-guessing whether or not you're a power-hungry psychopath, so I revealed myself because I think there is a part of you that is decent and deserves a little trust!"

"Don't psychoanalyze me!" Tom hisses, remembering men in white coats that used to come to the orphanage and 'talk' to him, "I am not a psychopath!"

"Then start acting like it!"

"Then tell me what I need to know! Why stop your confessions here?!"

"Because it's too bloody LOUD, Tom!" The room, everything, shakes and trembles. Even the air molecules seem to shake from overwhelming sadness.

Tom stares at those tears, feeling as if he's lost the ability to speak.

"I hear everything. I hear you choosing to kill your father. I hear you deciding not to kill the prostitute you met last year. In another echo, you kill her. And more and more branches. Impossible, silly, stupid branches. Did you know there's a universe where you're a parrot? Somehow you're still a manipulative bastard, a brilliant manipulative bastard. I used to think you were a ghost, not really there. You must have thought I was obnoxious. But I can't help it. I have to blurt these things out. Cassandra's curse. My dad's curse…"

Tom wishes there was a language, some sort of instruction manual, for dealing with tears. When his followers cry, he ignores them. When the bullies at the orphanage cried, paying for their dues, he only laughed at them. But Potter's tears feel like deeper cracks against glass, too sharp to touch.

"…Then why didn't you tell anyone you were a seer sooner?"

Potter's smile feels jagged and brittle. "I have. It hasn't helped. Cassandra's curse. A seer might tell people their fortunes, doesn't mean they'll believe them. I just blurt out the wrong universe's fortune."

Tom curls up his fists. "I believe you."

Potter looks at him strangely, like someone jolted out of a deep gaze. "Yes… yes, you do… You always seem to… For better or for worse… we always have some impact on each other's lives…"

The echoes of mirror images, brother wands, come ringing back in Tom's mind.

"All the more reason for you to help me. Try, just for me. Who can say which of your predictions will be truly useful for my future?"

Potter frowns. "I don't think there's any point in that. I say a lot of nonsense. Sometimes I go along with it just for fun."

A true troll indeed. "I can decide for myself whether there is a point."

"Hmm…" Potter looks far away again. It occurs to Tom that every time Potter has dozed off or seemed vacant, he may have been haunted by visions of another life, another Tom Riddle. Is that Tom Riddle a failure? Or a Riddle more impressive than the one in front of him?

"Stop that," Tom snaps, "Look at me!"

Potter blinks in surprise. "Right. You want… What is it you do you want again?"

"Come to one of my meetings. See what my cause is like and see for yourself how useful you can be to my cause."

A snicker sneaks out from Potter's lips and then full-blown laughter. Potter smiles as he always does. "There's no way I'm going to a Death Eater club meeting. Nope. You just need me for my shiny new powers. I promise that if you make me go, I'll try my hardest to be super annoying. Maybe even give your followers a sugar high."

Tom doesn't comment. He'll let Potter believe that he can avoid this for now. There's still something Tom needs to ask, unable to get Potter's tears out of his mind…

"…Why did you decide to tell me this? Why now?"

That far-away look in Potter's eyes, he hates it.

"I told you, didn't I? This you seems trustworthy. Maybe. And even if you're not, well… I'm tired."

Potter slips out of the room and, somehow, Tom feels as if he's lost something very important. Something more.

EDITED CHAPTER - Nov 15, 2019