Mirrors and Shadows

By Angelis Raye

Basis: Tom Riddle, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, takes an interest in the eight-year old Harry when he sees how set apart the boy is from the others, despite efforts to fit in at the orphanage he's in. (See Chapter one for the full version.)

Chapter 2: Getting to Know Harry Riddle

Being held hostage due to the torrential rain that was pouring outside the Riddle residence, Harry was bummed, to say the very least. Especially since it was only the second day of living with Tom, and he was stuck inside, again.

"Harry," Tom called, coming into the living room, finding his son kneeling on the couch, his nose, hands, and forehead pressed against the window sill, watching the rain fall from the sky, almost endlessly. "Monsoons," he told Harry, smiling, sitting next to the young boy.

"What's that?" the bright-eyed child questioned, taking his face from the window to look at Tom.

The boy was very articulate for his age, which pleased Tom greatly. He wouldn't have that much trouble explaining or teaching the boy things when it came down to it, like now. Hadn't the care-givers at the orphanage taught him anything? Perhaps Harry's attitude had deterred them from actively teaching him anything that he didn't want to learn. And it was just as likely that when that happened, Harry got his hands on books to solve the matter of teaching, rather than dealing with the old women working for the place he stayed in.

But didn't the muggles normally send the children off to school before eight years? And even more questions came rushing to the forefront, but Tom shrugged them off, promising himself that he'd find out eventually. He had a whole summer to spend with Harry, after all, and there was plenty of time to get these questions answered.

"Monsoon happens in the late summer months, when it gets really humid out, causing it to start raining. During the monsoon season, there are quite a number of storms, lightning, thunder, rain, and the works in the monsoon months," the professor explained, grinning at Harry, who ate up everything he told him with such intensity that it had first taken Tom aback when he was teaching Harry something the previous night.

Harry turned halfway back to the window, before Tom touched his shoulder a bit hesitantly. The boy was a little startled, but he calmed almost instantly, remembering that it's only Tom, not some of those crazy people that he'd almost been put with.

Tom and Harry's eyes met, then, and the boy's vibrant, nearly penetrating green eyes spoke for him. And the professor understood, nodding slowly. "You're not going anywhere, Harry," he promised, his hand awkwardly remaining on the shoulder. Tom knew that eventually, he'd get used to interacting with his foster son. But now, things remained as they were: terribly strange, with a definite 'forced emotion' feeling behind everything.

"Perhaps there's something you want to do, Harry?" Tom asked blinking for the first time since his eyes had met Harry's. "You could help me organize all my paperwork for school, if you want. I promise that you won't be as bored doing that as you are right now, just sitting here watching water fall from the heavens."

At first, Harry muttered something that Tom didn't quite catch, causing the older man to ask Harry to repeat himself, eyebrow raised when the boy finally told him in a comprehensible, "I don't like school."

Once the shock wore off, Tom recalled how to breathe again; he then looked back to Harry. "You don't like school?" he questioned, aghast.

"No," Harry said, the reply barely a whisper, which was followed by the shaking of the head in the negative.

Curiosity took hold of Tom like nothing other, compelling him to ask, "Why not?"

Then, something that irked Tom more than anything else that'd happened up until that point about how the boy had been treated before he adopted Harry manifested itself in Harry's meek shrug that was supposed to be a non-committal response to Tom's enquiry: Harry had been bullied and neglected more than once in the time of his stay at the orphanage.

Following a deep breath (which proved to do little to help calm his nerves as it should've), Tom looked Harry in the eyes, deep sapphires meeting bright emeralds. "You can tell me what happened. I won't tell on you, Harry. You can trust me," he told the boy, holding back the need to maim the people who put Harry through such terrors. It reminded Tom greatly of the crap he had gone through when he was Harry's age. And that was all more reason why he wanted revenge for the boy.

Something restrained Harry from spilling forth the anguish within him, the guilt of not being able to tell Tom welling up in its place, instead. "I'm sorry," was all that he poured out to his foster father, now unable to meet Tom's gaze.

Not used to dealing with children so young that had to face these problems (definitely not his own adopted son, who he'd known for less than a month, even), Tom felt something akin to frustration. He knew of the feeling, but never before had it been as overwhelming as it was when it came to Harry.

"When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be here," he heard himself say. Tom had no idea where that had come from, but the was exceedingly pleased how well it worked on Harry, who nodded, allowing himself to meet the elder man's eyes once more. He didn't know how to comfort people, let alone young, naive children. Or so he'd thought.

After a moment of silence, Harry could smile again, for all purposes relevant to the moment, appearing to have forgotten (or perhaps, it was burying it back where he thought it belonged, deep down within him, never to be shared with any other living soul) about the conversation he'd just had with Tom.

Tom knew better than to think that this was taken care of – far from it, in fact. But he'd let it go just this once. After all, he had the rest of the summer to help the boy out, didn't he? So, he had Harry help him out with his paperwork, sorting it into neat little piles, teaching Harry the whole time about what he did when he wasn't here during the summer breaks.

--

Just a little over two weeks later found the pair much happier with the passing of the rain and clouds, the weather beginning to cool down a bit. It was now, however, that Tom knew that he would have to confront Harry about his fear of a school environment since he was going to be at Hogwarts with him throughout the year while he taught. Tom supposed that calling Albus Dumbledore to have him help with the ordeal might benefit the both of them, but Harry, most importantly.

"Congratulations," Albus whispered to Tom as he came in the door, later the next day, in reply to Tom's owl. "Where's Harry?" he asked, looking around the living room, first.

"Here I am." Thankfully, Harry wasn't nearly as shy or reserved as he had been, before, in the presence of strangers, now that he'd gotten used to Tom and how dedicated Tom was to protecting him.

"Oh, dear boy, how you've grown since I last saw you," Albus declared, his eyes twinkling, his smile wide with amazement and a bit of pride. "Your mother and father would be so proud of you, if they could see you, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, very politely, just as Tom had taught him. It was executed perfectly. "But, Tom's my dad, now," he added, confused with what Albus had just told him about his parents.

"Indeed, Tom is your father, now, Harry, making you Harry Riddle, doesn't it?"

A nod.

"But, before Tom adopted you and became your father, the people that took care of you before the orphanage are your parents."

"Sorry, sir, I don't remember them," Harry did his best not to mutter, despite how uncomfortable he felt with not being able to recall something that this old man thought he was supposed to. He looked away from Albus, slightly, which was easily caught by the Headmaster who was a professional at taking care of children, so it seemed.

"Don't be sorry, Harry – you can't help it that you cannot remember them. They loved you all the same, my boy. There's nothing to be ashamed of," Albus confided to the boy, who took well to this, managing to show a bit of his smile once again, raising his head back up to meet the aged wizard's eyes.

"I'll do my best not to, sir."

Meanwhile, Tom watched the entire exchange from the sidelines, mentally taking notes of how Albus handled Harry's negative reactions to anything he said with ease.

"Well, shall we get some supper?" the aged headmaster inquired, pleased to see how Harry's face lit up with the thought of food.

The rest of the evening went just as well, Tom joining in at dinner, the three of them talking about Harry's stay with his new father, much to the two professors' pleasure. And an hour or so after they finished a small dessert, Albus bid them farewell, saying he'd look forward to seeing Harry at Hogwarts in about three weeks with Tom.

--

Five days after Albus' visit was Harry's ninth birthday. It was a small affair, but Harry had asked Tom for an ice cream cake – the kind with the cookies in it, too. And of course, Tom didn't mind indulging Harry on his birthday, after all, he told himself, it only came once a year, so why not? It wasn't as if he really celebrated his own birthday any more, so doing this for his son would be a much better way of spending the money.

Presents consisted of new clothes for Harry's stay at Hogwarts, books, more books, a quill and ink set, and a small grey kitten. The kitten, of course, had been hidden cleverly in Tom's study, kept quiet with a silencing charm on the door and fed frequently for about a week before Harry's birthday. Minerva, of course, had been the one to suggest getting Harry a kitten and Albus had agreed it would keep Harry company while Tom was in class. To Tom, it meant that Harry would begin learning how to be more mature and responsible at the same time.

The tiny, furry, and mewling addition to their family kept Harry busy most of the day the rest of the summer, playing with the kitten and training him to use the litter box (not that it really needed any training, to tell the truth, much to Tom's relief). Harry even named him Incanus, Latin for "grey," which he'd learned from one of the books given to him for his birthday by Tom – which was shortened to "Ink" after a week, for an easier name to call when looking for the mischievous thing.

Ink was a curious (as all cats are, especially kittens) and surprisingly intelligent kitten, as it could hide from even Tom when it didn't want to be found, as well as being capable of fetching its toys and Harry's socks when thrown across the room. And the little boy cat grew quickly, even in just the few weeks they had him before packing up for the trip to Hogwarts for the year, soon loosing some of its klutziness that young kittens have for a few months when they're still getting used to walking and running, and just doing what cats normally do.

--

And at last, August fifteenth came.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Tom couldn't wait to show his son around the grand old castle, telling him stories about his own school days (well, at least, the more innocent ones that Harry could appreciate at nine years old) and the different classes that were taught at the school. All in all, it appeared to Tom that Harry was much more comfortable with Hogwarts than the boy was with the thought of the muggle schools he'd attended.

"Why don't I get to go to the classes, Tom?" Harry asked, suddenly, changing the subject at lightning speed.

"You'll be sorted and start classes, officially, the year after your eleventh birthday," Tom explained to Harry, smiling.

"But, Tom," the boy cried, his face pulled into an imploring expression, eyes full of hope.

"I'm not going to promise anything, since rules are rules, after all, but perhaps you and I can convince Professor Dumbledore to bend the rules a little for you, all right?" Tom compromised, knowing that it was likely that the boy wasn't going to be able to get into the school, as he was still two years too young. Perhaps when Harry turned ten, Albus might let him in if the boy signed a contract of sorts.

Then again, knowing Albus… Tom could pull a few favours on the old headmaster, who could pull a few strings with the Ministry to allow Harry in. After all, he was his father, now, so it shouldn't be an issue with how Harry would do, academically.

In the end, rules were made to be broken, yes?

To be continued.

--

First of all, I hope my readers didn't think I had abandoned them! School can be rather chaotic, to say the least; and today is the first day of summer break. And today is the day that I've gotten quite a bit accomplished. Updates will be a little more often than the past month and a half, now that finals are over.

As always, comments, reviews, questions (answered as promptly as probable), and whatever else you think of saying (that's appropriate, please) are greatly appreciated, even if it's just one or two words.

Should Albus pull some strings and get Harry into Hogwarts two years early or should he be forced to wait?