Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Harry awoke a few hours later to Petunia's screeching from downstairs.
"-absolutely cannot believe you would have the gall to accuse us of such a thing! My nephew is a strange boy and not quite all there in the mind but we would never allow harm to come to one of our charges. Now I would appreciate it if you would leave my property since I see my husband just came home." Harry flinched, imagining just how much worse things would get before they ended up killing him.
His uncle had managed to get the person to leave, whoever it was. By the time Harry realized there was anything wrong, Vernon was already undoing locks on his door.
"So, you think you can find a way to contact the police? Get us thrown in jail? Not bloody likely." Fear gripped Harry's stomach while his heart rate increased at an alarming rate. "You will accept how we treat you, little whore, because we are the only ones who will take you in. We are the only ones who cared enough about you to give you a place to sleep." Vernon's pants were off in record time. "Come here, you ungrateful slut and make yourself useful for once in your bloody life. NOW BOY!" Harry flinched at the volume of Vernon's voice and retreated to a safe place in his mind where the events unfolding in front of him couldn't harm him.
It was here, in the recesses of his mind, that he felt something different. Or someone, rather. He didn't feel so alone here.
Tom watched the events unfold, wincing at the sheer brutality of the attack. He did manage to disconnect himself somewhat, giving himself a body like he had in his own mind so he could wander around at his leisure.
Only a moment or two later and he found Harry walking around with him, although it appeared Harry wasn't aware there was anyone else in his mind with him.
"Harry? Is this how you deal with what you go through? You come here? To this part of your mind?" The boy turned, not seeming to be startled that there was someone there with him.
"Yes. It's the only way I can block things out of my head. How I survive. How I keep my sanity, or what's left of it. Why is it important where I hide in my own mind?" Tom smiled.
"Because this is where my horcrux lives. I find it interesting that you should take your comfort with me, even if it wasn't a conscious effort." They remained in silence for a moment before Harry spoke up again, his voice timid.
"What are we? We're enemies, friends within the journals, equals in most everything we do...Tom what are we?" Tom thought long and hard on that.
What did he even want them to be? He was supposed to be killing the boy, not conversing with him daily. He was supposed to be cursing his existence, fighting him until one of them died. And yet, he found himself giving words of encouragement to the boy, willing him to live. Giving him potions to keep him alive. He didn't want him to suffer, yet that was what was supposed to happen.
"To hell with it," he growled. "I imagine that you're more confused than I so I'll just be blunt. I don't know what we are. But I do know that I'm done fighting with you. I want to befriend you, to be there for you, to support you in all that you want to do. I find myself wanting to hold you at night to stave off the nightmares you suffer from. I don't know what we are. But I do know that against all odds, I care for you. My entire being longs to rescue you from that abhorred place and yet, you will not allow it. So tell me Harry, what exactly is it that you are hoping to hear me say?"
Tears welled up in his emerald eyes. "I...I cannot be rescued. And yet...I find myself yearning for it. For this," he gestured to the rest of his mind where he was screaming for someone to stop his uncle from tearing him open any further, "to stop. To be held without feeling the need to flinch away. I want that, need the feeling of being safe, of being protected rather being the protector. I'm just so tired of it all. I cannot continue like this, it will kill me in the end. I don't know what I wanted you to say Tom, because I know that it wouldn't be what I ache for." He lowered his head.
Tom grasped his chin lightly and lifted his face to his.
"Perhaps the one you were meant to kill will be the one to save you in the end." With that, Harry's mind was overcome with the black that only unconsciousness could bring.
Tom flew back into his own mind with a rush. Gasping for air, he summoned Lucious. Of all of his followers, this one was least likely to dawdle.
"My lord," the blond bowed to him.
"Lucious, gather my inner circle-minus Bellatrix. It is time I had set the record straight on a few things." Lucious bowed again and disappeared quickly. Not ten minutes later, every single member of his inner circle was kneeling in front of him.
"My followers, you all may find a place to sit. We have much to discuss." They sat quickly, eager to see what it was that he had to tell them. They weren't told to take a seat often, it had piqued their interest. "It would appear that some of you are...misinformed of what my goals are." A nervous titter floated from one side of the room to the other.
"It is not my intention to eradicate all the muggles and mudbloods. I merely do not wish for them to ruin pureblood traditions and believe that children to muggles should be checked up on, and given the opportunity to voice concerns about their home lives. Although it is not hard to see why our traditions are being squandered with none of you willing to share our heritages! But I digress...You've all been very loyal to me. However, we need to stop progressing with the violent attacks if we are to be taken seriously. It may have worked in the beginning, but not now. It is obvious that Dumbledore is drunk with power and if we pull back to do things the proper way it may help our cause as people will begin to see that we do not wish to kill everyone on site anymore. Years ago people were almost hungry for the fight, to follow whoever came out the victor. This is not the world we live in today." Lucious spoke up then.
"My lord, I will admit I am quite shocked by this turn of events. May I be so bold as to inquire what has brought about this new line of thinking? Of course, I will follow you no matter how you wish to achieve these goals." Tom rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt to get out of being tortured for his question.
"I have recently been informed of Potter's home life. The reality of it." He turned to glare at Severus for a moment, knowing full well that he should have noticed the signs of abuse before this. "The boy is broken and looking for someone to help him. I've been spending my free time showing him that I can be trusted and that we don't mean to harm the wizarding world any longer. His trust in Dumbledore has been waivering these last few years, always being kept in the dark and being forced to return to his relatives every summer. It should be much easier for the world to accept our views if Potter is the one delivering them, don't you agree?" The group nodded, hardly daring to breathe with this news.
"I expect that each of you will be cordial and that you will all leave him alone until I deem it appropriate. Understood?" They all nodded once more. "Good. Be gone with you. Severus? You stay." His tone grew colder when he addressed the potions master. Once everyone else had left, he procured a vial of Veritaserum.
"You know what this is. You brewed it for me. You know there is no antidote. Take it." Severus gulped and drank the necessary few drops. Tom glared at him. "The whole thing." Eyes wide, but reluctant to disobey a direct order he downed the entire bottle.
"Why, exactly, was Potter's abuse never brought to me?"
"I didn't realize at first. I brought it up with Dumbledore the first week he was at Hogwarts, but I was told he was raised in a very small village and that he was likely just overstimulated by all the students and noise. I believed him. In the beginning of his third year I told Dumbledore that he was showing signs of abuse but was brushed off. I believe he said it was his cousin and something else about children being children. I didn't want to believe that Dumbledore was willingly putting Harry in danger, just as he had done with Lily. I didn't want to believe it…" Tears started pouring down his face. "Please," his voice was barely above a whisper, cracking with emotion. "Please tell me it isn't as bad as it was for me."
"It's much worse for him than it ever would have been for you Severus." He stood up and went to stand in front of the fire while Severus composed himself. "I plan on getting him on his birthday. It's not too far from now is it?"
"Tuesday, my lord. It's Tuesday." There was no hesitation in his voice, surprising Tom.
Turning back to the potions master, he tilted his head slightly. "You didn't hesitate. Why do you know his birthday so well?" Severus choked, clearly trying to fight the potion.
"I...because...fuck. I went to apologize to her just before her eighteenth birthday. We...I don't know if she married James because she loved him or because…" Tom's eyes flew open.
"You mean to tell me that Harry Potter might actually be your son?"
"Maybe. The timing added up, although it was during a war. I never got the chance to ask her if my suspicions were true." Severus got up on shaky legs and left Tom to contemplate what he had just been told.
Tuesday came all too quickly for Tom. He had been so preoccupied preparing for Harry to come and live with him that he was having a hard time keeping up with the boy in the journal.
Harry, I know I have been neglecting my journal lately. Rest assured, I am merely preoccupied at the moment. Things will get better very, very soon.
He closed his journal and turned back to the bedroom he was decorating for Harry. He had settled on neutral colors, rather than the typical boldness of red and gold. It was too strong of a color palette for someone who was in a weak state of mind. Harry needed time to heal peacefully.
The walls were painted a light, creamy beige. The trim was a dark spruce, contrasting nicely with the walls. Curtains were hung, white organza drifting gracefully to the floor over the windows and french doors. The long balcony had flowers planted everywhere, their floral scent drifting into the room. The spruce wood spread over the floor, creating a very nice effect indeed.
Furniture was next. Pine wood with a honey colored stain seemed to bring the space together perfectly. A dresser was stood on the far left, and two matching nightstands were placed on the far right. In between the nightstands was a California king sized bed, with a frame to match the other pieces of furniture. Vines were intricately carved over the foot of the bed and headboard, lazily twining around each other to create a delicate sort of look. The bed coverings were a soft sky blue with silver designs that shimmered in the sunlight. After a moment of thought, a fuzzy rug the same color as the walls appeared under the bed, large enough for a set of slippers on any side of it.
Matching lanterns appeared on the nightstands, with another appearing on the dresser. A rather nice perch for his owl was next, sitting prettily in the left corner by the window. Bookshelves were added in the opposite corner by the windows. They stopped just short of the door between the windows and bed. It conveniently connected their rooms, ensuring that he would be able to help Harry at a moments notice. He added another rug to the reading area and plopped a rather plush armchair down on top of it. The same blue as the bedsheets sparkled back at him from the chair.
After taking a moment to admire his handiwork, he rather grumpily admitted to himself that his entire manor needed redecorating. The way it was simply was atrocious in comparison to Harry's new room.
Drawing up his journal, he read the response that was waiting for him.
It's alright. The Dursleys left this morning for a family holiday so I've been enjoying the peace. Tom smiled. The Dursleys wouldn't be there to taint Harry's birthday. That was good. Very good.
Does that mean I'm allowed to come over today?
I guess if you want to. I've nothing else going on.
I shall be there shortly. Tom closed the journal softly and sighed. He hoped that his decorating skills weren't completely atrocious.