~`2`~
Tom stood on Platform Nine and three quarters, his trunk and his owl beside him, his parents behind and the Hogwarts express in front. The students milling about all around, weaving in and out of the spaces between him and the train didn't matter. Because for all that Tom had thought he was ready for this he hadn't truly come to terms with the fact that...he was going back home.
"This is it, our little boy is all grown up." His mother sniffed, folding her arms around him. It took a considerable amount of self control to keep himself from pulling away while whining 'Muum!'.
In Tom's defence, he hadn't exactly been keeping up on his villainous cunning.
"Don't forget to write to us every week!"
"Or more, or maybe see if they don't have a landline somewhere."
"And finish your homework on time."
"Don't forget to brush your teeth, you always forget to floss."
"Be a good boy, alright Les?"
"And have some fun."
Tom stared at the two who had made it so easy to live, so easy to almost forget he had once been a dark Lord who would have killed them on the spot,who had stood by and supported even though they knew that the world he was going into was one they couldn't follow him in.
Was this what all the true Muggleborns went through? A foot in both world, tugged in multiple directions? Because Tom had spent decades in the wizarding world before but the last ten years had been in the Muggle world and it had become familiar to him now. Already there was a building trepidation at what he was losing, what he was giving up, the opportunities, the sheer bloody knowledge!
In a moment of weakness, of that bright warmth that he refused to acknowledge he threw his arms around the two for the briefest of seconds. Before they could react he quickly pushed his trunk onto the train and disappeared into the passages, on the hunt for Harry Potter.
Strange how in the midst of all the chaos that were his thoughts,his nemesis had become his anchor.
Voldemort had forgotten a lot in the course of his years as Lestat. But even before that, during his war, he had fraying at the edges for all that he was loathe to admit it.
But whether it was because the last time he had seen Harry Potter at the age of eleven was through the warped creature he was on Quirrell's head, or his severely damaged soul, he had quite forgotten how utterly tiny the boy was.
He had entered the carriage and with an absent hello and a discreet notice-me-not charm on the door, had thrown his trunk into the carrier above head and then sat down with a book. It was open in front of him but his eyes were firmly assessing the Boy-Who-Lived instead. Harry Potter was looking out the window in awe. Tom could see his eyes flicking back and forth over every minutiae of the scenes they passed, his hand cradled by a hand that was connected to a far, far too skinny wrist.
Now, Voldemort remembered his first 'death' well enough and Lily and James Potter hadn't been small or delicate by any means, even baby Harry hadn't been tiny, looking more like a toddler than a one year old.
No, there was something more sinister at hand here. And for all that Tom knew he should be thinking of how exactly he could use this information, there was a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Jean Granger that was all but yelling 'Feed the poor dear'.
When the sun was high enough in the sky that the Honeydukes Express should be making the rounds, Tom took the charm off the door. By now any gawkers desperate to find the Boy-Who-Lived would have found a place in other compartments instead and they were less likely to be disturbed.
"Anything off the trolley dears?" Said Martha, not that many knew her name. She'd been to Hogwarts with Tom the first time around however and he remembered her. Back then they had scoffed when she went off to Paris to become a patissiere and now she was very probably richer than the Malfoys on the back of the Sugar Quills and fudge flies and four times a year she ferried the Honeydukes express.
Finally, he put his book down and as Harry Potter rushed out and came back with what looked to be a bit of every single thing on the cart, Tom began to unpack the lunchbox his father had packed for him. There was a stack of sandwiches that Tom really wanted to shove down the boy's throat if only he would just say something, anything, to him.
"Are they real frogs do you reckon?" Harry asked and Tom sighed in relief.
Finally.
Harry looked at the strange boy he was sharing the compartment with. And for all that he appeared to not notice it, he was a very strange boy.
For one, he hadn't introduced himself or asked for Harry's name. The last people to do that were the people in Diagon Alley who already knew his name because apparently he was the Boy-Who-Lived.
For another, it was three hours into their journey and the boy hadn't realised that the book he was reading was upside down. He'd even put it away to have his lunch and not noticed it at all.
But he hadn't gawked at Harry nor looked at him like he was some sort of bug so Harry was willing to give the boy a chance. He didn't seem too bad anyway.
"Some animation charms probably." The boy said and Harry realised he was answering his question, "Frog brains are a potions ingredient, they wouldn't waste it on chocolate."
Harry picked up one of the squirming chocolate frogs and bit its head off before snorting in laughter.
Bit its head off. Ha!
"Do you want to try some?" He asked once he swallowed his mouthful of chocolate frog head.
"Only if you have one of my sandwiches." The boy said quickly and Harry smiled wistfully, as they exchanged a chocolate frog for a sandwich wrapped in brown butcher's paper with the words 'Chicken' written on it in terrible handwriting and a smiley face next to it. It. It must be nice to have someone who'd do that for you. Harry hadn't even been allowed any breakfast, the Dursleys just wanted him to go.
"I'm Harry, Harry Potter."
The boy smiled awkwardly before taking a deep breath, as if introducing himself was a chore.
"Lestat Granger, but call me Tom."
Harry blinked. Yeah, he could see why he had delayed introducing himself for so long.
"...Alright then,"
He looked down to find the box of the Chocolate Frog had a card in it. "Balfour Blane," He read out loud and heard a choking sound from Lest- Tom.
"Merlin's saggy balls-" Tom said and Harry was surprised. Tom seemed the posh types, not at all the type to swear like that.
"What?"
"Balfour Blane's card is supposed to be the third most rare in the Chocolate Frog card series. There's only 2 Balfour cards printed every four years. And you got him for your very first card." Tom looked at him with wide, dazed eyes that narrowed as they fell upon the pile of sweets Harry still had, "Let's test this luck of yours, shall we?"
The next hour was spent playing a weird form of Russian Roulette with the Bertie Bott's every Flavour beans. Tom's face when the flecked yellow one he ate turned out to be Rotten egg while the flecked yellow one Harry ate turned out to be Buttered Popcorn was quite possibly the most hilarious thing he had ever seen.
"With luck like that it's no wonder that you survived the Killing curse." Tom said wryly and the laughter stopped in Harry's throat.
Harry didn't know how he should respond to that. On the one hand they were talking about the murder attempt that Harry had apparently survived not ten years ago, but on the other Tom was finally comfortable enough to joke with him. It was much better than having his hand shaken until it felt like it would fall off, anyway.
"The Killing curse? Is that what it was?" Harry wondered. He remembered a green light but didn't know what it meant.
It was more than a bit terrifying. Not only was there a curse that existed solely to kill, but a man had tried to use it on him when he was just a baby.
"That's what the books say. Doesn't make sense though." Tom shrugged.
"Yeah, why would anyone try to kill a baby?" Couldn't Voldemort just have left him there instead?
"No, not that. I mean, if no one else was there and you were the on,y person to survive, how do they even know it was the Killing curse? Or any curse really. How do they know he tried to kill you? You can't possibly remember, you were just a baby after all. So who's been going around telling people that anyway?"
Huh. Harry had been trying not to think about his parents' murder too much but Tom was right. Who did go around telling people that Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived?
The seed of suspicion had been planted. This was very important to Tom. There was no way in hell that he was getting into Gryffindor which meant that Harry would have to be the one to join him in Ravenclaw. A Harry who was thinking about conspiracies was far more likely to get into Ravenclaw than the lucky, foolhardy boy who had taken Tom on in a Bertie Bott's Russian Roulette.
(And won but Tom wasn't going to fixate on that. Not at all. Nope)
It was also important because Tom wanted to find out exactly what and how Dumbledore knew some of the details that had been printed in the books. Mostly because a lot of them were actually true. What was Dumbledore hiding?
But he couldn't ask the man himself, of course. Only Harry could do that without rousing suspicion and so it was up to Tom to guide him that way. A loud clattering sound outside broke them out of their thoughts. A prefect stuck their head in to tell them that the Hogwarts express would be reaching in just under and hour and to change into their robes. Luckily it was a Slytherin prefect so Harry didn't warrant a gushing outburst of awe and wonder, only a cold stare.
The rest of the journey is spent in a growing anticipation. Harry can barely sit still and Tom can't blame him.
It's not even the first time he's going to Hogwarts but he feels it, feels the excitement. They are going to be in the boats going across the lake soon and part of Tom wishes he could obliviate himself just so that he could have that moment again when he saw Hogwarts castle in all its magical glory for the very first time. Wants to truly relive that moment when the darkness that is the view of an almost unending stretch of water, is broken by the lights.
And when finally they get into the boats, Harry and he sharing with some Irish boy and a dark skinned boy, both chattering on about football, when they do see the spires of the Astronomy tower appear on the horizon, it almost feels real. It feels like the very first time for all that it isn't. And while the other boys keep talking throughout, he sees in Harry Potter's wide eyed expression and awed gasp,the very same sentiment that Tom had felt over fifty years ago and was feeling again right now.
Finally, he was home.