AN: Thank you all again for support, you really do keep me going on and light up my life :)
Also that awkward moment where you have to split a flashback chapter in half to balance the plot and rearrange ALL your chapters orders and add a chapter because Tom why
content warnings for this chapter: implications of child abuse, oh, and murder. because tom why
Teaching History (is Old News)
28 - School Days: Darkness Brews
"…I'll write you every day," Potter insists.
They're sitting together in a compartment, taking the train home for the summer. Tom made sure to threaten all of his housemates to stay out of his compartment, lest they ruin his progress with Potter, and he has Longbottom, Diggory, and Chang preoccupied with that missing toad. The toad has a use after all.
First Year has gone by in a flash. Soon enough, Tom will be among those wretched muggles again.
"That's not necessary. I've told all my housemates not to write me during the summer," Tom waves him off, trying to practice some higher level Transfiguration before the summer starts and the Trace is in effect. While Tom suspects that the Trace doesn't detect wandless casting, he'd rather not risk his position at Hogwarts.
"What? Why not? Don't you want to stay up to date with the Wizarding World so you can run your secret army of Death Ducks?"
"I don't have an army—urgh, never mind." Tom knows better than to indulge Potter. Sometimes it's best to go along with his quirks for a smoother conversation experience. "I just don't want my housemates to disturb me over the summer."
"Ah, because of the muggles," Potter nods in understanding. "Guess the owls would bring a lot of unwanted attention."
"…Yes," Tom admits, and he doesn't want the Slytherins to see the orphanage he lives at. He should stop being surprised at Potter's perceptive nature. Potter has always been this observant, even after the incident.
"Then I'll write you the muggle way! I've collected a lot of loose stamps from the Dursleys. You don't even have to write back if you're too busy, and I promise not to tell anyone your mailing address."
"The muggle way?!" Tom spits out. "Why would you degrade yourself to such a thing?"
"Because I want to keep in touch with you," Potter smiles, and Tom has… no words to say.
"Do what you will."
He doesn't lean into Potter's enthusiastic hug. He doesn't.
:
"Make sure to keep up with your studies," Tom tells Potter, as they wait at King's Cross. Too many times he's caught Potter staring out at nothing in the library instead of finishing his Potions essay. If Tom weren't his keeper, Potter would immediately fail all his classes. "Remember to eat—"
"I should be saying that to you," Potter grins as Tom straightens Potter's collar. "You're the one who forgets to eat when you're researching how to become a snake."
"It's not—it's animagi transformations, of course I'll research that. And don't forget to write. Inform me of any relevant news."
"Yes, yes," Potter leans into Tom's touch. "I'll be fine. I'll survive. We both will."
Tom wants to snap that he doesn't need Potter's sentimentality, that he's not worried about the summer at all. Potter's the one who's worried, clearly. Tom doesn't need anyone's letters to survive. He's just indulging Potter's whims again so they don't lose their progress. Some days, Potter speaks without any allusions to ducks or dancing flamingos. Some days.
But when he sees Potter's cheeks lose colour, eyes wide and afraid, Tom turns around to see three repulsive looking muggles glaring at them both.
"Well, boy? Don't have all day," the tallest one, Tom assumes is Harry's Uncle Vernon, orders.
Potter's transformation is immediate, his entire frame hunched in and small, head bowed. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."
Something sick twists in Tom's insides, replaced by burning anger. No one should talk to Harry like that.
Harry moves to follow his pathetic excuses for relatives, but Tom grabs his wrist and holds him firm.
"Write to me," Tom demands. "Every day if you can. And tell me everything."
Harry's eyes, normally so distant, focuses solely on Tom, as if Tom is the only thing to exist in the universe, and Tom wants that feeling all the time, wants to bottle it up and keep it by his heart but—
"Hurry up, boy!" the disgusting Uncle roars.
Harry pulls away, taking that feeling with him.
:
Dear Tom,
Do you think ladybugs eat other people's luck? I keep finding them crawling on my arms when I have to do the gardening, and I always get in trouble with Aunt Petunia afterwards. But I can't let her squish them! They're just ladybugs and they don't deserve that kind of death, even if they do eat my good luck.
I hope there aren't any ladybugs where you are, Tom.
Harry
:
Tom scowls at the letter and its useless information. He has no idea what the purpose of a ladybug is supposed to be. He supposes that they regulate the population of other bugs in the environment and probably have some beneficial relationship with plants, but he's never bothered researching them when he can study more interesting creatures.
He moves to throw the letter away, ignoring the cowering children in the corner who he traumatized so he could be the first to open the mail. But Tom's hand hovers before the trash can and then he pockets the letter carefully.
He puts it in a box under his pillow, for further study, of course.
He doesn't write back. He's a busy wizard after all, and reestablishing dominance at the orphanage takes time…
Harry can wait…
:
Hey Tom,
Writing my second letter! Managed to snatch up some paper! I even drew a paper crane on it. Maybe it can be your friend while I'll gone. I do hope you doing well.
To paper cranes and companionship!
Harry
:
Tom rolls his eyes, ignoring the shocked gasps of the orphans who catch the motion. He throws the rest of the unimportant letters at them, tucking his own in his pocket for safekeeping.
Harry must be fine if he has time to send trivial things like doodles…
:
Dear Tom,
You're real, right?
Harry
:
Dear Tom,
Ignore that last letter. Everything's fine. I'm sure you're fine too. You're always fine.
I don't know what I'd do without you. Isn't that odd?
You're my best friend. Even if I'm not yours. I just want you to know that.
I don't think I'll be able to write for a while.
But just know that.
Missing you,
Harry
:
There are no letters after that.
:
Harry,
Who hurt you.
Reply straight away,
Tom
:
Harry,
Answer me.
Tom
:
Harry
(The paper is crumpled, slightly ripped and taped hastily back together)
There better be an excuse for this.
Tom
:
Harry, reads the letter that Tom never sends, that Tom scratches out with ink and angry scribbles like a mad knife slashing across its victim,
You can tell me about ladybugs or whatever suits your fancy, I don't care. I'll listen.
Just write back.
Just bloody write back.
:
"Riddle!" Abraxas Malfoy, a Fourth Year now, smiles too widely at him when Tom arrives at Platform 9 3/4. "How was your summer? I've saved a compartment for you if you'd like to recap on the latest news—"
"Out of my way," Tom shoves past him, eyes scanning the platform for familiar raven-coloured hair. "I haven't the time for you Abraxas. Report to me later."
Abraxas's face falls. "But, Riddle, I waited all summer to—"
"Later," Tom hisses. "Don't make me repeat myself."
A sneer threatens to spill across Abraxas's face, but he bows before Tom can see it for sure and leaves. Very well, Tom will show Abraxas Malfoy his place later… There's someone more important to discipline now.
He pushes away more students, probably First Years, judging from their gawking, hunting for that familiar face until—
There, just walking out the barrier, Harry lugs a trunk much too big for himself while his demon owl sits unhelpfully on top.
"Harry. Potter!" Tom snarls, storming over to him, reaching out for Harry's shoulder.
Harry jumps, immediately covering his face, but it's too late, Tom sees the ugly bruise, hidden behind make up, on Harry's face and he—
Sees—
R E D.
"Who did this to you?!" Who took Harry away from him?
"No one! It's not important," Harry looks away. "They won't be doing it again."
But that's not good enough.
"It's your family, isn't it?" Tom spits the words out like poison. "Did they just leave? They may still be in the parking lot. I'll tear them apart—"
"No, no, stop!" Harry throws his arms around Tom. He's still so small, small enough that his head could tuck under Tom's chin. "It's fine! Everything's fine! I just want to go home, to Hogwarts. I don't want to think about this anymore."
Hogwarts…
"Then," Tom hates to suggest this, but he'll use whatever tools necessary. "We tell Dumbledore about this."
"He can't help," Harry mumbles into Tom's collarbone.
"Why wouldn't he—"
"He just can't. Something about blood family discipline being higher than the law in this universe."
"So he's useless." Tom tightens his hold on Harry. "Fine. Let's go to the Hogwarts express."
Harry looks at him with relieved eyes, assuming Tom won't attack his pathetic relatives. No, Tom won't forget about this. He'll wait. If the adults, particularly the magical ones, won't protect Harry, then Tom will.
Tom will make them all pay.
:
Throughout Second Year, Tom tracks Harry like a shadow and Harry doesn't comment on it. Chang, Diggory, and Longbottom eventually accept that where Harry goes, Tom will likely follow, slowly trying to integrate Tom into their conversation.
Tom always tunes them out, focusing on his research for power, his search for his snake of a father, his plan to stop the Dursleys from ever touching his Harry ever again…
:
At King's Cross, after Second Year ends, Tom nearly forgets his plan at the sight of Dudley Dursley wearing obnoxious brand clothing while his Harry clearly wears the trash heap's rags and he pulls out his wand, he's going to tear him apart but Harry grabs Tom's arm, he stares at Tom hard, as if he knows all of the dark and terrible things that Tom has ever done and ever will do, as if knowing all that would tear Harry apart if Tom hurt his trash heap cousin in front of him, as if Harry is on the precipice of never smiling at Tom again and Tom—
Lowers his wand.
For now.
Harry whispers a "thank you," and Tom hates how relieved he is to hear it.
:
Private Drive looks as pathetic and dull as he remembers, all the houses the same inferior copies of the others. Tom looks at Number 4 Private Drive, sees Harry toiling away in the garden, thinner than Tom last saw him, and burns with the need to take him away. But no, the ministry would drag them both back to their respective prisons. Tom isn't old enough, isn't powerful enough for that.
But he's powerful enough for this.
Breaking into the Dursley home without anyone noticing is easy. Placing a few runes under each Dursley bed is even easier. They're small enough and hidden so that no one will ever notice, and Tom easily nicks a few hairs and blood using a few garden snakes.
By the time night falls, the Dursleys will never touch or speak to Harry without respect ever again.
They'll be too busy living their worst nightmares.
And if they happen to accidentally starve to death or hurt each other in the trauma? Well, Tom didn't technically kill them.
EDITED CHAPTER: March 15th, 2020