Tom Marvolo Riddle was not a fool, nor did he suffer fools gladly. That was a principle that he applied to all, including to himself, whether it be himself as it was, or that idiotic mistake of a shadow he had created as a child. They said that one reaped what he sowed – and perhaps he did just that.
So perhaps he could be forgiven for failing to see it earlier. He was not one to forgive, so he was reluctant even to forgive himself, but it was true that his mind had long been occupied by other things. He supposed that the earliest he could reasonably have figured out Black's – or, to be correct about it, Potter's – trick was the New Year's Gala in the boy's – rather, the girl's – third year. He had known something was off, then; there were too many things that didn't add up.
First, they had looked far too alike for it for two wizarding children of different lineages. For all that he was a half-blood, a secret he fastidiously kept from even his Party, he had spent many decades among the highest echelons of Wizarding society. He knew the Houses well, and he knew that the Potters and the Blacks had not intermixed directly for centuries. The Blacks were an old, traditionally Dark House – and the Potters, a traditionally Light one. Before Sirius Potter came along and upset the balance, the Potters did not deign to mingle with the Blacks, and vice versa. While all the old Houses were linked to some degree, the Potters and the Blacks were, compared to most, quite distant. He had heard the rumour that the boy, Rigel Black, had some sort of passive metamorphism that had fixated on his cousin, but such a thing would defy Wizarding genetics as they knew it. Between a complete upheaval of the tried and true theory of absolute inheritance and an unknown method merging their likenesses, well … given Miss Potter's obvious and known penchant for ingenuity, he would prefer the latter.
Second, the boy was not a Parselmouth. And yet, he was. He had heard evidence of the talent himself at the Malfoy's annual garden party not six months before that New Year's Gala, when the boy – the girl, he would have to correct himself – successfully blackmailed him into staying out of Hogwarts. She had hissed at him, had she not, in the serpent tongue? Yet, not six months later, he was puzzled by the boy's failure to hear his low, hissed comment, as though he had not heard at all, as though Parselmouths could not hear the serpent tongue several decibels below normal. That, in and of itself, was a minor thing, but combined with the others, it was telling. The boy was not a Parselmouth – and that meant that the girl was.
Third, there was the incident on Elder Ogden. Both the boy and girl had shown their Healing talents, which were not especially surprising given that the boy was allegedly learning from the girl – or the other way around – but what was surprising was that they had done so allegedly using each other's wands. The wand chooses the wizard, as the wandmakers said, and one would never get quite the same results from another's wand as their own. And that pathetic fib about how they had swapped after flying? Please. A wizarding mother would sooner mistake a stranger's child as her own. He had gone to Ollivander himself, several months after that incident, only to confirm what he already knew – the wand chose the wizard, and one would never get quite the same results with another's wand. A wand could not have dual allegiences, but in some, rare, situations, sometimes a wand could be made to act almost in the same way. Ollivander was not definitive about it, stating that it was "quite theoretical, speculation, even", but he had been skeptical of the notion, which Tom had read in his aura, even as he said the contrary.
Ultimately, it came down to power, and power did not lie. Rigel Black was powerful – and the girl was powerful. The girl had discovered Shaped Imbuing almost as an accident, an experiment, and anyone who threw that sort of power around without a thought was powerful. It was a technique that only the powerful could use, the powerful and immensely controlled – he, himself, had done it once or twice, though Potions were not his forte, and this was not a technique for the magically weak. Therefore, Harriett Potter was powerful – and so was Rigel Black.
Elder Ogden's healing would have taken a fair amount of power for even an above average wizard – and yet, though neither child's aura had changed, it was Rigel Black who fell on the feast shortly thereafter to replenish his core, rather than the supposedly weaker Harriett Potter. There was no reason for the children to lie about who did spells, and in any case, he had felt the spells being cast by both children that night. They were not the same – one leaned Neutral, the other Dark - but power did not lie, and the power they expended that night was apparently nothing to Harriett Potter.
It fit. It was Harriett Potter who was the powerful one of the duo. It was Harriett Potter, using her own wand, who had helped her cousin Arcturus Rigel Black heal Elder Ogden. It was, therefore, Harriett Potter who was the Parselmouth, and it was Harriett Potter, the half-blood like himself, who managed to blackmail the strongest wizard in a century. It was Harriett Potter, ingenious Harriett Potter, who had found a way to mesh her appearance with Arcturus Rigel Black so closely.
Which meant, of course, that it was the secretive, half-blood, Harriett Potter who had the audacity to enter into pureblood-only Hogwarts under the her cousin's name. It was a daring, insane scheme – almost the sort of thing that he would have dreamed up. It would be Harriett Potter, too, that carried a strain of his magic within her.
It was unfortunate, then, that she stood so opposed to all that his Party stood for. In better times, he would have considered how to best bring her to his fold – there were always enticements to be made, baubles to offer. Perhaps a select loosening of the pureblood-only policy, to allow her sister to attend Hogwarts, if she proved similarly powerful, or perhaps a rewrite of the Marriage Law. Perhaps something simpler, even – a high position in the Ministry, the Potions Guild. Certain arms could be twisted to ensure that she had her pick of Potions Masters to apprentice under, certain deals could be made to ensure that Harriett Potter saw success. And, at worst, there was always her family – people could always be counted on to do what it took to protect their families. And such a large family that Harriett had, too, such a large family which meant so many points to put leverage on, even without that little addition of magic he had given her.
But, these times being what they were, he could not indulge himself in such charming thoughts. A certain Lord Voldemort was flitting about, as annoying as it was, causing terror even among his own Party – while to a certain extent, he recognized his other self's fanaticism, it was clear that the magic holding his construct had deteriorated. It was frustrating in the extreme to see his aims flustered by his own, deteriorated, utterly mad and yet powerful piece of magic.
Therefore, most regrettably, he would not be able to entice Miss Harriett Potter into his Party. She would, however, be most helpful in eliminating that annoying bit of magic calling itself Lord Voldemort. If she survived, and only then, would he would indulge himself in considering the very best method of bringing the powerful, powerful witch into his Party.
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A/N: Another chapter to tide everyone over until Violet posts another update! This time, we finally don't get someone who is automatically on Harry's side - even if he doesn't break the ruse. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated, and would love to hear your thoughts too!
