Chapter Summary: But another, larger, part of him felt like yelling, "I get to be selfish now! I deserve to be selfish now! I WALKED TO MY DEATH, I DESERVE TO GRAB HOLD OF ANYTHING THAT MAKES ME HAPPIER OR MORE AT PEACE AND NEVER LET GO."
And unfathomably, being around Tom made him feel grounded, whole, solid. He felt alive again, awake again. So yeah, he'd do anything not to feel the emptiness, and if that meant forgiving the past madness and sins of a broken soul?
He'd do it.
Notes: Chapter Warnings: [Some mental health talk: Harry's still struggling after the war with grief and just the general trauma he's experienced his whole life. He's also feeling a lot of guilt right now. This is probably going to be a theme throughout the fic.] [Mentions of child abuse and neglect: I briefly mention a few instances of physical abuse Harry has experienced from the Dursleys. I also talk about food insecurity and withholding food as a punishment that both Harry and Tom have experienced which affected their eating habits.]
Now that that's done, my apologies! I didn't mean to not update for four months. I just really struggle with sitting down and writing consistently, honestly, especially since my interests cycle through different things and it's difficult maintaining a consistent Harry Potter interest. I do plan on finishing the fic, I have no plans on dropping it. So even if I go months without updating, please be assured I'll update when I can!
I'm still so blown away by the positive reactions this fic has gotten. Thank you all so much for your kindness, it means a lot to me! Thank you once again to anyone who has read, followed, favorited, and/or reviewed!
Chapter Five
In his study, Harry paced in front of the fireplace. He tugged his black casual robe off and tossed it to the sofa, leaving him in a slightly loose, faded blue t-shirt and dark, worn jeans.
He was telling Tom the truth earlier when he said he planned on floo calling Kingsley, but really? He needed a moment alone.
He raked his fingers in his hair, tugging the locks in frustration. His hair was perhaps more wild today as if sensing the unsteady thoughts of the person it belonged to.
After the nightmares he had this morning—
A stream of faces, of those he loved and came to care for or respect, spewing hate as they crowd him, flit through his mind like he was reliving the nightmares.
"How can you stand being around him?" One face asked in horrified disgust.
"How dare you betray us like this?!" Another demanded in fury.
"Always knew there wasn't something right with you." One said with a sort of smug disdain.
"You're throwing away your parents' sacrifice, Harry. Throwing away our sacrifices. You're a disgrace and you should be ashamed of yourself."
"You're a freak, Harry. Always have been, always will be."
"Disappointing."
— his emotions were all over the place.
It would be a lie to say that he hadn't had a long hard cry about it all after Tom had left his room earlier that morning. He still struggled with his grief and the trauma of his life in general. Sometimes, he felt like he would always struggle with it.
"We are… so proud of you." His father had told him in the Forbidden Forest before Harry went off to sacrifice himself.
Shacking up with their murderer had left him struggling with guilt and it'd only been a day.
(Had it really only been a day? No, not even a full day, it's still morning, fuck.)
Harry highly doubted they would be proud of him now.
But another, larger, part of him felt like yelling, "I get to be selfish now! I deserve to be selfish now! I WALKED TO MY DEATH, I DESERVE TO GRAB HOLD OF ANYTHING THAT MAKES ME HAPPIER OR MORE AT PEACE AND NEVER LET GO."
And unfathomably, being around Tom made him feel grounded, whole, solid. He felt alive again, awake again. So yeah, he'd do anything not to feel the emptiness, and if that meant forgiving the past madness and sins of a broken soul?
He'd do it.
Harry sighed as he sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. He put his head in his hands and thought about what brought him to this moment.
He never expected that giving the man a proper burial, or magically engraving that epitaph into his headstone, would call upon Death to sew Tom's soul back together. If that's really what happened.
It felt like Death picked up on the longing of his soul and ran with it. And while Harry was sort of grateful to feel whole again, he wished the being would have actually consulted him.
Harry didn't know what to think about Death or him being the so-called Master of Death. He knew Dumbledore held the theory that the Deathly Hallows were actually created by the Peverell brothers, and maybe they were.
He had no way of knowing.
But knowing that Death was a real entity, not just a thing that happened every day, made Harry a little wary. What was his true purpose with Death? He doubted a being like Death would be agreeable to having a supposed Master. Harry didn't want to be a Master of anything and he didn't want anything to do with the power that might come with it.
He just hoped that he wouldn't have to recollect the other two Hallows.
Harry groaned at the thought.
He wanted nothing to do with the wand or the stone. But he knew his luck, and he knew in his gut that he would have to recollect them at some point.
Harry rubbed his eyes before taking a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling through his mouth. He repeated this for several minutes, letting his anxiety and his thoughts ease away.
He'd taken up breathing exercises and meditation alongside regular exercise— not that any of it was a cure all for everything he struggled with, but it helped— after the war to help deal with his mind never wanting to stay still, always thinking, always remembering, always reminding him of things he'd rather not remember.
Keeping busy helped him feel productive and it kept his mind mostly stable. He still had bad days, he still had nightmares. Days where he never spoke very little or not at all to anyone, not even Kreacher. Days where he reverted to eating only a meal a day, even with Kreacher's nagging. Days where he spent most of it laying in bed staring at the ceiling.
But there were more neutral and good days than bad, and just because a day started out bad didn't mean it couldn't end neutral or good, and that's all he could really hope for.
Once Harry had his emotions mostly under control, he stood up and brushed off his clothes. He combed his fingers gently through his hair, this time in an attempt to make it look neater.
Figuring that was good enough, Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantle of his fireplace. After he tossed the powder into the flames, turning them from orange to green, he knelt, called out, "Minister Shacklebolt's Office," and then stuck his head in the now harmless flames.
"Oh, good morning, Harry. You're lucky, you caught me in-between appointments. What can I do for you? Would you like to come into my office?" Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting behind his desk, his wand in hand as he sent files flying to their cabinets.
"Good morning, sir. Thank you, but this won't take long. I only wanted to call ahead and apologize for leaving early yesterday." Harry said, doing his best to appear shamefaced, not meeting Kingsley's eyes. He didn't actually feel bad about leaving early, but he knew he needed to make nice.
Kingsley waved him off with a knowing smile on his face, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners, as he put his wand on his desk. "There's no need for an apology, Harry. You showed up like you said you would, that's all that matters."
Harry glanced up at the other man, sending him a grateful grin. "Thank you, sir. I also wanted to let you know ahead of time that I won't be attending any Ministry events until, maybe, after the summer holidays." Harry said with a firmness to his voice. "I plan on taking my N.E.W.T.s this summer and I should really focus on studying."
Harry watched as Kingsley's expression turned proud and he felt warm all of a sudden as his eyes darted away. It was nice having an adult he respected, outside of a professor, proud of him for something as simple as working hard on his studies.
"Well, I'm pleased to hear that you're taking your studies seriously." Kingsley said as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "I know Minerva was quite worried when you declined to return to Hogwarts for the rest of your schooling. I'll be sure to put her mind at ease the next time I speak with her. You take the time you need, Harry."
Harry held back a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir. I have to be going now, but good luck with your meetings for the day. I'll talk to you soon."
Kingsley sent him off with another wave of his hand and a quick goodbye as he brought different files to his desk with a wave of his wand.
Harry leaned back from the flames and let them die out.
Well, that was one thing crossed off on his to-do list.
He planned to pull back more and more from public events, but he knew if he did it all at once he'd be hounded by the press. At least with this pause in his public life, he had a credible excuse.
He didn't know why he'd been so nervous about telling Kingsley that he planned on taking this break. Harry knew Kingsley was a reasonable man and wouldn't begrudge him wanting to focus on his studies in the peace and quiet of his own home.
Shaking his head, Harry stood up and dusted himself off. Better get to the library.
Upon entering the library, Harry found Tom frowning as his hand went through the bookshelf instead of picking up the book he wanted.
"No luck yet?" Harry asked as he sat down at the table closest to Tom.
Harry watched as Tom's jaw clenched, as one of the muscles in his neck became more visible. He couldn't drag his eyes away from it. Transparent or not, Tom was an attractive man. Harry had the feeling he'd always see something attractive about him, no matter how much he wished he didn't. He shook the thoughts from his head and focused on what Tom was saying.
"I know it's possible." Tom said shortly. "It will just take practice," He stared hard at the bookshelves that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. "And patience." He added, with a wry glance at Harry which caused him to snort.
"Well, you're a talented wizard." Harry said with a shrug. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, and I'll help you out until you do." He released his wand from his forearm holster and with a swish of his wand the other chair at the table pulled out allowing Tom to take a seat.
Harry's face warmed as he felt Tom's stare on him as the man managed to sit down. 'Stop it, Harry.' He told himself. 'Get a hold of yourself.' Another swish of his wand and the chair pushed itself in.
"Yes, well." Tom said, finally looking away from Harry, as he gestured towards the antique desk across the room. "You can start by gathering parchment, as well as your ink and quill. Write down the list of books I tell you, then gather them here."
Harry did as the other man ordered. With a flick of his wand the blank parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink all bobbed in the air over to the table he and Tom sat at. He cast an alarm spell to go off around lunch time, before settling in.
For the next several hours, Harry and Tom worked together to read through one of the books Tom thought could be useful to discovering either the bond they seemed to share or anything regarding Death. It was a slow process, as Harry had to turn the pages and take notes as they went through each page.
They only managed to get part of the way through an old, thick book about Magical bonds before it was time for lunch.
Harry ended the alarm spell and put a blank piece of parchment to rest on the page they left off at before closing the book.
"It's lunch time." Harry said as he straightened up his area of the table, then raised his head to look at Tom. "Kreacher is secretly a mother hen when he likes you, so he tries to keep me to an eating schedule when I'm here at home."
Tom raised an eyebrow but said nothing and Harry chuckled self-deprecatingly as he stood up from the table. "Well, between my time with the Dursleys, where withholding food in general from me was... common, and," Here, Harry glanced at Tom before looking away, "During my time on the run with my friends, I've developed poor eating habits. It's better now, largely thanks to Kreacher interfering, but in the beginning I'd often skip a meal," Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "or two, without realizing it."
He paused again before adding, "And... Some days are worse than others. I'm not able to stomach much of anything on those days."
"When I attended Hogwarts, I would spend hours in the library doing research when I had free time." Tom said, gliding away from the table. He stopped in front of the desk before turning around to face Harry. "I frequently lost track of the time. Sometimes, I would forget to attend meals in the Great Hall. Occasionally, one of my associates would bring me a snack, but generally I'd simply go down to the kitchens once I was done for the day."
Tom looked away and paused, a furrow formed on his brow and he seemed to debate something with himself before he added in a quieter, but steady, voice, "And before Hogwarts, food was scarce at Wool's. It wasn't a wealthy institution to begin with, so we made do with what we had.
Of course, dinner was often used as a potential punishment. If we misbehaved, we'd be sent off to our rooms without eating. Once or twice, it wasn't too much of a problem. But the Matron had it out for me from the start— not that I didn't make things worse for myself. Needless to say, I often went to bed hungry.
"When the muggle's war started, rationing began and then became more extensive over the years. I was thankful for Hogwarts during this time, where they don't know the meaning of rationing. Food was always aplenty there. At the end of every school year, I would beg not to be sent back. Every time, I would be refused."
Harry couldn't take his eyes off of Tom as he spoke. He never expected Tom to talk about that time. He knew, of course, that Tom grew up during the muggle's Second World War, which he vaguely remembered learning about before he attended Hogwarts.
He always knew there were similarities between him and Tom. Harry used to be so afraid of the similarities, that it meant he'd turn out bad or evil too. When he told Dumbledore his worries towards the end of his second year and the man told him, "It is our choices that show us who we truly are, far more than our abilities."
They each made different choices, but Harry could see the moments he could have, would have, made a different choice if something else hadn't changed. He remembered being a child, locked up in that cupboard that was both prison and safety, and he'd think of all the ways he could make them hurt too.
He never acted on them.
Not even when he was smacked about, or when Dudley broke his nose for the third time, or when he and his lackeys chased him down. Not when Vernon would hit him with his belt, or when Petunia would smack him in the head with a frying pan or dig her nails in his arm as she dragged him from the cupboard.
He would bury the violent intrusive thoughts and settle for talking back and stealing right from under their nose.
The point being, he knew he could have turned out wildly different. He could have turned out maybe not just like Tom, but of a similar vein.
(Privately, he thought that Dumbledore was lucky he turned out as Good as he had. Privately, he felt that Dumbledore should have checked up on him himself instead of using the squib babysitter Harry didn't even see that often. Privately, he felt that Dumbledore should have investigated when he asked not to go back there. To hell with the blood wards.
But he was brushed off, as he often was, and so it was just one more thing he held against the man despite still having great respect and care for him.
If there was anything Harry learned during the war, it was that the man wasn't perfect. In fact, he was far from perfect. And he was often willfully blind. But damn him, Harry still loved the old man.)
He shook the thoughts away and focused again on the man before him. He'd seemed to be staring into space as well, his head turned away from Harry.
"What a pair we make, huh?" Harry said softly, with an undertone of understanding.
Tom's eyes darted back to Harry and held his gaze. "Yes. What a pair, indeed."
Harry gave a commiserating grin before clearing his throat.
"Anyway, I remember Hermione talking about a text-to-speech spell that I think could be helpful for our situation until you can control what you can interact with. I can't remember the incantation or wand movement, but I'll send her an owl and ask her about it." Harry said as he made his way to the library door.
After the war, Harry rented an owl as needed from the post office set up in Diagon Alley. However, once he stopped leaving the house as often due to being overwhelmed from the public's reactions to him, he eventually bought himself a new owl that he named Leo. It wasn't particularly clever of him, but it was a name and the owl liked it well enough.
The new owl was a male tawny owl. Harry knew he'd never be able to own another snowy owl— it'd feel too much like betrayal to Hedwig. Even getting Leo made him feel guilty. But an owl became a necessity once he no longer lived with or near his friends.
"What will you tell her?" Tom asked, following behind Harry.
"Oh, I'll probably just say that I think the spell would be useful for self-studying." Harry said as he opened the door, waiting for Tom to follow him out into the hallway before closing it behind them. "It's not really a lie, I'm sure it would be useful for that. I imagine she'll be pretty happy that I'm taking my last year of education seriously despite not returning to Hogwarts like she wanted."
After lunch, followed by a few hours of self-study with a bit of advice here and there from Tom who was bored with exploring the house and failing at interacting with objects, Harry wrote the letter to Hermione in his study.
'Dear Hermione,
How's everything going at Hogwarts? Don't forget to take a break from studying every once in a while, 'Mione. I know you'll stress yourself out no matter what I say, so just make sure you take care of yourself when you can.
D'you remember the incantation and wand movement to the text-to-speech spell? I think it'd help me with studying and I remembered you talking about it but I don't remember the specifics of the spell. No need to rush, it's not needed immediately. Just thought it could be helpful.
Tell Ginny and Luna I said hello. Let me know when the next Hogsmeade weekend is and I'll see if Ron and Neville are free then too and maybe we can all meet up for a pint. It's been ages since we've all gotten together.
Hope you're well,
Harry'
Folding the letter and sliding it into an envelope, sealing it with in red wax using the seal he had made of a merged Potter and Black coat of arms, Harry stood with it in his hand and made his way to the room on one of the upper floors that he designated as the owlery, even though he only had the one owl.
Care of the room was mostly one of Kreacher's duties but Harry tried to spend time with Leo when he could. The owl would never replace Hedwig, but he was still deserving of care.
"Take this to Hermione Granger up at Hogwarts, okay?" Harry said, holding the letter out for the owl once he entered the room. Leo gave a hoot of understanding before taking the letter in his beak and flying out the open window which was warded to only allow entrance and exit from messenger birds.
That taken care of, Harry headed to the duelling room. Well, it wasn't just a duelling room, but rather a general fitness room. It was set up with wizard space, which allowed the original room to be bigger than it actually was.
There was a section for just duelling, whether with a partner or with enchanted dummies. These dummies had customizable settings like whether they could fight back, their difficulty level, stationary versus moving, speed, and more.
Another section of the room had general exercise equipment like a treadmill, a stationary bicycle, a punching bag that Harry reinforced to hang from the ceiling, a rack of dumbbells, and a yoga mat.
He didn't use all of the equipment all the time, and some of the equipment gathered dust at times. He mostly enjoyed using the treadmill and stationary bike, especially once he stopped leaving the house as often.
He tried to spend at least half an hour duelling each day to keep his reflexes sharp. He also regularly practiced wandless and nonverbal magic. Even though there wasn't a war going on anymore, he felt like it was something he needed to be proficient in.
You never know when you might lose or break a wand and not be able to get a replacement any time soon.
(Sometimes he felt paranoid about keeping up this training when he didn't intend to join the Aurors. What was the point in this training if he didn't intend to use it, after all? But mostly he felt that it was better to be prepared than to not be. If things ever devolved into war again, he wanted to be able to be in good enough shape to fight back or to run.)
Kreacher entered the room as Harry was almost finished with his run on the treadmill. "It's dinner time. Master Harry should clean himself up and come downstairs to fix himself something to eat since he won't let Kreacher fix breakfast or dinner."
Harry slowed from a run to a jog to a walk before stepping off the treadmill. He took a moment to catch his breath and take a drink from his water bottle. As he turned around to the door, he noticed Tom hovering next to Kreacher.
Harry didn't know how long Tom was in the room for, but he felt embarrassed that he was seen huffing and panting. After he shook his head as if to rid himself of such thoughts, Harry absentmindedly gripped the bottom of his shirt and raised it to wipe the sweat off his face.
"I'll go do that." Harry said, dropping his shirt back in place. He quickly cast a freshening charm on himself. He'd likely take a shower before bed, but the charm would do for now.
Kreacher gave a grunt before leaving the room.
"Do you set this room up?" Tom asked as his eyes darted away from Harry and to the area of the room.
Harry walked closer to Tom and nodded. "Yeah, I needed a spot for duelling practice, and the original room was big enough for a few enchanted dummies." He gestured at the enchanted dummies that stood along the right wall.
"Then, I usually ran around the neighborhood a few times a week, but, well, for privacy and safety reasons I decided to expand this room and add a general purpose exercise area so I could still get a run in without compromising myself or getting bothered by nosy people."
He watched as Tom glided to the dummies, inspecting them as he circled around.
"I can adjust the difficulty levels, set whether I want them to fight back or not, whether they move or not, and a few other things. They've worked really well so far."
"Did you do the enchantment work yourself?" Tom asked, returning to hover by Harry's side.
Harry gave a snort but shook his head, "No, I know some stuff for enchanting but I'm nowhere close to having a Charms or Runes mastery. I ordered these from a shop in Diagon."
He led Tom out of the room and back downstairs to the kitchen, where Tom sat on the seat that was pulled out from the table.
Harry paused in the middle of the room and sighed. He didn't really feel like cooking a big dinner. Harry ran a hand through his hair before releasing his wand from his forearm holster and summoned the chicken and ham cold cuts, which were under cooling and preservation charms, from the pantry along with two cheese singles and a loaf of bread. The items sat themselves on the counter by the sink.
He could feel Tom's gaze on his back, so he looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow at the man.
"Do you plan on seeking a mastery once you've completed your N.E.W.T.s?" Tom asked.
"Um, well, I've thought about it." Harry said as he summoned a plate from the cupboard and started fixing himself two chicken, ham, and cheese sandwiches. "I'm sure I could earn a Defense Against the Dark Arts mastery with no problem, I'd just need to find a master in it to apprentice under."
Tom gave a hum of acknowledgment but didn't say anything else. Harry still felt his gaze on his back as he moved around the kitchen though.
"We haven't had much luck with Defense Against the Dark Arts professors," Harry looked over his shoulder at Tom with a pointed look before turning back to the counter where he had also fixed himself a cup of tea. "So I'm not really aware of who would be a good choice to ask."
Harry took his cup of tea and his plate of sandwiches over to the table and gently placed them at his seat before sitting down. He looked up at Tom and saw he had a contemplative look on his face.
"Knut for your thoughts?"
Tom held his gaze for a moment before he seemed to come to a decision, nodding to himself.
"While I may not yet be able to return to the living, or have a body, or a legal identity, I still have knowledge to impart. I earned several masteries while on my travels after graduation. I would be willing to teach you, if you would be willing to learn from me."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the offer as he lowered a sandwich away from his mouth.
"You don't have to answer now. You still have your N.E.W.T.s to finish, and I wouldn't want to overwhelm you with additional studies. Take the rest of the school year to think about it, if you wish."
Harry quickly chewed and swallowed the bite of sandwich in his mouth before taking a sip of tea to wash it down. Then he rolled the offer around in his mind.
He wanted to take it. He knew how brilliant Tom Riddle was as a student. Harry was wary about apprenticing under some stranger, at least with Tom he knew the man.
But in order for it to be a legal mastery, as in one he could test for and file with the Ministry, Tom would need to be living again and would need a legal identity.
And Harry didn't know if he wanted to help the man accomplish this.
It was one thing to have the man living in his house— at least Harry could keep an eye on him here and he didn't have a lot of success with physically interacting with others or objects yet. If the man were to gain a body, and become living again, he'd be able to leave.
The thought gave Harry a lot of anxiety, even though he knew the man could leave any time he wished. It wouldn't be easy for Tom and he had little to no resources outside of Harry, but he could still leave.
But they had come to an agreement, hadn't they? And, if Harry agreed to this offer, well, even if he did leave, Tom wouldn't go far. One mastery can sometimes take years to complete. And the man had said he had more than one. Perhaps Harry could earn more than one as well.
Harry blinked. He carefully ignored the possessive feelings that cropped up during that thought process. He'd deal with them at some point, but today was not that day. Another thing for Future Harry to worry about, he decided.
Well, he had his decision. But he'd wait until he had his N.E.W.T.s to say yes, in case he changed his mind.
"Thank you for the offer, Tom. I really appreciate it. I'll be sure to think it over and let you know at the end of the school year." He said with a smile before grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite from it.