THE WARD OF RIDDLE

January 12, 1009 years after the Founding of Hogwarts

Forbidden Forest

Fourth years had a study hall during Friday final period, for which Harry and Alphard received a pass from Newt to work on their Care of Magical Creatures project.

"Now that you can see thestrals, your next task is to approach one," Harry informed as they stood thirty feet from Aidon. "Mind you, this is much easier said than done."

"What should I know about thestrals?" Alphard asked.

Harry looked at Alphard with some surprise.

"What?" Alphard asked.

"That's a lot of trust you're putting in me," Harry noted.

Alphard seemed unperturbed.

"The first thing you should know is if someone invites you to meet a thestral, they most likely mean to kill you," Harry cautioned.

"Thestrals eat wizards?" Alphard asked with a hint of horror.

"They feed on death," Harry answered. "More accurately, they feed on the transferral of life energy. Thestrals rarely kill, but you will almost certainly find thestrals at a battlefield."

"Is that why Grindelwald rode one?" Alphard asked.

"In part," Harry answered. "But to bond with a thestral, one must be comfortable with their own mortality. When I die, Aidon will absorb a portion of my life force."

At this, Alphard clutched Harry's forearm.

"I'm not dying for a long time, Alphie," Harry chuckled.

"I hate that name," Alphard groaned.

"Have it your way, Black," Harry quipped.

Alphard flinched.

"Too soon," Harry conceded.

"Too soon," Alphard muttered bitterly.

A brief silence set between the boys.

"A thestral stood outside the Potter home when your grandfather died," Alphard shared.

"The more powerful the wizard, the more nourishing the death," Harry explained.

"Will a thestral leech me when I die?" Alphard asked.

"Most of our power returns to nature the moment our spirits leave our body," Harry pointed out. "What we leave in our corpses and relics is only a fraction, and even that returns to nature in time. Thestrals are a part of nature, just like you and me."

Alphard nodded, but he still seemed fearful.

"It's natural to be nervous," Harry said. "But Aidon is not a harbinger of doom. Ignore all the myths about horses of death. Interacting with him is not a portent of imminent demise."

Alphard looked into Harry's eyes for several long moments before swallowing, nodding, and starting toward Aidon. Although Alphard paled slightly, he continued at a consistent, albeit shaky, pace until he was seven feet from the pale-silver thestral. There, Alphard went still.

"Alphard?" Harry asked.

Alphard did not respond.

"Al!" Harry shouted as he hurried to the boy.

"Harry?" Alphard whispered.

"I'm here," Harry affirmed as he gripped Alphard's shoulders. "Whatever you're seeing isn't real."

"R–Ri–Riddle," Alphard stammered.

"Isn't here," Harry assured.

"H-he wanted to k-k-kill me," Alphard gasped out.

"The aura of a thestral can lay bare your deepest fears," Harry explained.

"D-don't think it was im-magin-magination," Alphard stammered. "I saw him as h-head boy, in this c-clearing. Y-you were there too, but y-you weren't in s-s-school attire like us. Y-you also had a scar—red, like a l-lightning bolt—above y-your right eyebrow."

Harry raised his right eyebrow at Alphard's vivid vision.

"I'm n-not making this u-up!" Alphard exclaimed.

"I know you aren't," Harry assured. "I think you saw a manifestation of your fear of Tom."

"He had glowing crimson eyes!" Alphard shouted.

"His eyes don't glow crimson," Harry reassured.

"But they glow?" Alphard pressed.

"So do mine when I focus on my power," Harry reminded, oceanic eyes glowing to prove his point.

"Not like his," Alphard refused. "You're nothing like him."

Harry glowered.

"I mean that as a compliment," Alphard asserted.

"Even now, our dear housemates whisper about how unworthy I am of being kin to the Heir of Slytherin," Harry spat.

"They're in shock," Alphard answered.

"They're vermin," Harry sneered. "They act as if they didn't call Tom a 'mudblood' for years."

"Not everyone did," Alphard said.

"Even the ones who never said it laughed when others did," Harry riposted while looking directly into Alphard's eyes.

"Eileen never mocked Riddle," Alphard offered. "Neither did the Gravely twins."

"They benefited the most from Tom's denigration," Harry scoffed. "Every insult cast at Tom was a reprieve from taunts about Prince poverty, or speculation of Gravely impurity."

"Slytherin can be harsh, unfairly so at times," Alphard conceded. "But Riddle…we won't survive him if he has his way with us."

"Everything Tom learned about magic society, he learned in Slytherin," Harry returned.

"You blame your godfather, then?" Alphard asked.

"I accept Tom for who he is, and I love him as he is," Harry answered.

"That is not a ringing endorsement of him," Alphard noted.

"We have our disagreements, as all families do," Harry allowed. "But we can always count on each other."

"If he wanted to kill me, would you let him? Would you help him?" Alphard questioned.

"It will never come to that," Harry assured. "Even if you weren't my friend, you're the cousin of Orion, the brother of Walburga, and future father of House Black's senior cadet line. Tom values that more than you think."

"I'm your friend?" Alphard asked tentatively.

"Pretty sure we can only be enemies or friends," Harry shrugged. "Unless you can think of something else?"

Alphard blushed, at which Harry snickered.

"Omph!" Harry complained when a wandless stinging jinx collided with his mouth. His retaliatory glare merely caused Alphard to stick out his tongue.

Give me my tongue back! Alphard telepathically screamed a second later.

Harry laughed at his friend, who was only bewitched into believing he didn't have a tongue.

I will make you regret this! Alphard threatened.

"Clear your mind, Alphie," Harry instructed.

Alphard found his tongue and used it to spew hexes. Keeping on defense, Harry quickly found himself impressed with the variety and velocity of Alphard's spells.

"Sparring against Walburga?" Harry presumed after dissipating a miniature whirlwind.

Alphard responded with a sonic blast that Harry defended against by deafening himself. Alphard pressed the attack by sending a bolt of electricity toward Harry.

"Very good," Harry applauded as he restored his hearing and absorbed the jagged energy.

Unable to sustain a barrage of spells for much longer, Alphard emitted an omnidirectional flash of light to cover a physical charge at Harry.

"Excellent," Harry praised as he allowed Alphard to tackle him.

Alphard's Quidditch-honed agility and dexterity translated well into the wrestling match, allowing him to briefly contend with Harry's natural speed and flexibility. However, Harry's greater strength and training in physical combat allowed him to pin Alphard in short order.

"Yield?" Harry breathed as he pressed himself on top of a supine Alphard.

Defiant squirms stimulated Harry to tighten his grip on Alphard's pinned wrists.

"Don't make this hard on yourself," Harry chuckled.

Alphard's face flushed tomato red.

Harry opened his mouth to further tease his friend just as something hard pressed against his crotch. From the curve, Harry knew the wand he was feeling was not made of wood.

Alphard desperately tried to wriggle away before coming to a sudden stop.

Harry raised his eyebrow in question, one Alphard answered by grinding their activated groins together.

"Oh," Harry moaned.

The other boy fortunately seemed equally surprised at their mutual attraction.

"You like how I look?" Alphard gasped.

"Seems so," Harry breathed.

The boys silently helped each other stand.

"Was I the boy you were talking about at the ball supper?" Harry asked.

Alphard nodded.

"How long?" Harry whispered.

"Since the night we first visited this forest together," Alphard revealed.

"First year?" Harry gasped.

Alphard blushed, but nodded.

"I wish I knew," Harry apologized.

"Would you…would we have—" Alphard wondered.

"Honestly, I didn't know I liked you that way until just now," Harry admitted. "I mean, of course I appreciated that you're smart, funny, attractive, have nice skin—"

"I have nice skin?" Alphard teased.

"Why do you think I always hexed you with boils?" Harry laughed.

"You were rather unimaginative," Alphard taunted before flashing a pearly white grin.

"Shut up," Harry huffed. "I wish you told me about your feelings!"

"By the time I had repaired our relationship, you were with Druella," Alphard said somberly.

The boys looked at each other with regret.

"So long as I'm with Druella, I'll be with her only," Harry made clear.

Alphard nodded with sadness, but understanding.

"But if it doesn't work out long term, and you're still available—" Harry promised.

Alphard's eyes shone with hope.

"Also, I'm serious about us being friends, if you'd like to be as well," Harry reiterated.

"Even though I have no love for Riddle?" Alphard asked.

Harry nodded.

Alphard beamed with an intensity Harry had never seen before. Wanting to keep Alphard in such spirits, Harry did something hadn't with anyone save Tom.

"Come'on," Harry said as he levitated himself and his friend onto the waiting thestral's back. "Hold on to me," he instructed as he telepathically asked Aidon to take them for a flight.

Alphard hugged Harry tightly throughout the ride, not that the younger boy minded.

January 14

Great Hall

Tom's almost-coven sat in the great hall at 11 o'clock sharp for Sunday brunch.

Despite being a week into second term, Harry still found himself unused to the new seating arrangement. Instead of sitting across from Tom as he had since the beginning of third year, Harry once more sat at his cousin's right hand. At Tom's left sat Orion, on the left of whom sat Walburga. With Druella and Darren sitting at Harry's right in that order, the remaining six sat in what seemed to be their order of favor with Tom.

Directly across from Tom sat Palomydes, who in his capacity as Youth Representative to the Wizengamot helped secure Tom's legal confirmation as a pureblood scion of Slytherin. Across from Harry sat Kenward — the best duelist after Harry, Tom, and Walburga. Across from Orion sat Eleanor, to the right of whom sat Conlaed at one end of the line. On the other end sat Randolph, who, although placed next to his best friend, occupied the seat of disfavor due to its distance from Tom.

Even without the rearrangement, Tom's current contempt for Randolph was clear as day.

Could you at least forgive him by Friday? Harry asked his cousin.

Friday? Tom feigned ignorance.

Randy's birthday, Harry mentally groaned. It could even be your present to him.

As your guardian, I must defend your honor. Especially when you refuse to, Tom replied.

What you said about his mother's accident was far crueler than what he said to me, Harry argued.

I recounted a true event. Lestrange claimed you should not exist, Tom rebutted.

Touching as your protective fury is, that's not the real reason you're angry at Randolph, is it? Harry questioned.

Tom declined to comment.

Following his acquisition of the Slytherin locket and guardianship of Harry, Tom exercised more control over the group than ever before, making meals dull affairs. Conversation revolved around Tom, and he barely tolerated anyone speaking unless spoken to. Those Tom favored, such as the Blacks, enjoyed this dynamic. Others, not so much.

Treating longtime associates like this won't inspire the devotion you crave, Harry warned.

Should I let them cast hexes at me to "inspire loyalty"? Tom mocked. Or should I debase myself with carnal actions, as you have with the lesser Black?

Don't call Alphard that! Harry thought sharply.

Tom mentally sneered in response before engaging Orion in an exclusive conversation. This was soon interrupted when a flock of birds descended on the tables bearing what appeared to be a special edition of the Daily Prophet.

'Misery of Merope': Investigators uncover the last riddle of House Gaunt

By Barnabus Cuffe

January 14, 1973

Tom Riddle claimed himself as a descendent of Hogwarts founder Salazar Slytherin before the Wizengamot on Dec. 31. Genealogical experts questioned this claim, citing that the last known descendents of Slytherin, Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt, were Azkaban inmates before Riddle could have been sired.

Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) reports reveal another member of House Gaunt, however. Merope Gaunt, daughter of Marvolo and sister of Morfin…

"Incendite," Tom commanded all Daily Prophet copies in the hall to burst into flames.

Great, now everyone will think it's true! Harry lambasted Tom's impulsive choice.

Tom stood up and stormed out of the great hall.

"That story is a hoax, written by jealous detractors," Harry instructed the others.

Orion nodded earnestly, inspiring most of the others to offer speedy affirmatives. Randolph and Goldwin, however, looked at Harry with open doubt.

Remember that Tom can, and often does, read your minds, Harry warned the two.

You're telling us how to think now? Randolph thought angrily.

I'm trying to get you two back in Tom's good graces, Harry answered.

Just go after your 'cousin,' squirt, Goldwin thought snidely.

With neither a comeback nor a want to argue, Harry withdrew from the two's minds. "I'll be back," he lied to the group as he rose to follow Tom.

Harry didn't need to track his cousin's aura to find him waiting at the Slytherin sink.

"Open!" Tom barked at the structure in Old English.

Wrong language, Harry corrected.

Tom growl-hissed like a king cobra at the serpent-engraved faucet. Before the sink even parted fully, the Slytherin heir jumped into the pipe to slide down to the cave system below.

When Harry reached the under level, he found his cousin emanating an aura more sinister than any Harry had seen since Grindelwald.

With glowing eyes and pale countenance, Voldemort flew faster than ever to the temple entrance, barely waiting for Harry to catch up before opening the seven-serpent door.

"I hope you aren't thinking of setting your basilisk on the entire school," Harry rebuked his cousin as they flew to the head of the temple.

"Why shouldn't I?" Voldemort raged verbally and telepathically.

"Ignoring the fact you're considering the mass murder of our schoolmates, what's your plan for when Professor Albus destroys your pet?" Harry reasoned as they hovered before the Slytherin statue head. "You can't hope to contend with him in a duel—"

"I shall sooner than later," Voldemort declared. "On that day, you will fight alongside me."

"That won't be today, or any day we are still students!" Harry shouted.

"Watch your tone, little cousin," Voldemort sneered.

"Make me," Harry challenged as he ditched his robe and sweater.

Voldemort grinned at the opportunity to vent his fury and hate. Harry, never one to concede first strike in a serious match, whipped out his wand and cast a mighty fireblast. Voldemort drew his wand in time to raise an absorbent shield, but the clash shook the chamber.

"Destroy my chamber, and I shall make you beg for death," Voldemort threatened.

Harry shrugged, provoking his cousin into casting a nonverbal Cruciatus.

"Predictable as ever, Tommy," Harry taunted after dispelling the curse.

Voldemort hovered higher and outstretched his arms, commanding the chamber's floodwater to attack Harry as a tidal wave. Harry responded with an omnidirectional shockwave that vaporized some of the water and repudiated the rest.

Voldemort hissed at the air before barely dispelling a mighty bolt of golden energy. Harry pressed the attack by sending forth his Patronus, using the positive energy to disrupt his cousin's focus and send him tumbling to the stone walkway.

Harry sent an ice-blue bolt of energy to freeze the downed dark wizard. As Voldemort conjured an emerald shield of fire with his free hand, Harry took the opportunity to draw in a deep breath — only to find the air more disagreeable than that of an equator rainforest.

The boy wizard snarled, shifted his head into elk form, and dove at his smirking cousin. Voldemort returned to an upright hover just in time for a skull-cracking headbutt that sent him skidding down the walkway.

The Slytherin sorcerer hissed violently, spewing forth a monstrous serpent of shadow. An embodiment of malevolence, the construct attempted to paralyze Harry with a fear he had not felt since confronting the dementor horde of Azkaban.

Harry dispatched the phantom with a Patronus, of course. He almost always prevailed over his cousin in direct power struggles, despite their equally potent connections to magic. Which is why Harry knew the dark projection was a mere distraction…

For when two hands seized his neck from behind and began stealing his life energy.

"Back off!" Harry thundered as he enchanted his skin with an unforgiving ward that would reduce just about any of their professors, much less schoolmates, to ash.

Voldemort, stubborn fool that he could be, held on till he could not fend off Harry's curse.

"Aggghh!" the dark wizard began screaming as he backed away.

Harry smirked and turned to declare victory, only to gape in horror as he saw his cousin clutching his right wrist as the hand disintegrated.

"Tom?" Harry gasped.

Tom's face twisted with pain and rage as he kept screaming and the curse kept spreading.

"Tom!" Harry shrieked as destructive golden-white power reached the older boy's torso, mercilessly burning his chest from within.

When bright flames burst out of Tom's mouth and eyes, Harry dropped his wand and sank to his knees. He watched dumbly as the light and fire combusted Tom's entire form seconds later, barely registered the gale that howled through the chamber with the stench of burning flesh, and couldn't comprehend the sight of his beloved cousin exploding.

Seven agonizing seconds later, Harry felt the tip of his own wand dig into the back of his neck, prompting him to descend into a round of hysterical laughter.

"You win," Harry wheezed as he gulped in the now breathable air.

"I enjoy seeing you drop to your knees before me," Voldemort gloated.

"I didn't enjoy watching you die, you right foul git!" Harry ranted.

Voldemort laughed.

"All the more reason for you to carry my horcrux," he declared. "Rise, my knight."

Harry rose and faced his cousin, who proffered the Gaunt ring.

"A prize for the loser?" Harry asked wryly.

"Our spars have helped me hone my martial magic," Voldemort appreciated. "As bitter as I found the years of constant defeat, I would not have progressed as quickly without them."

"You're welcome," Harry grinned as he slipped the ring onto his left little finger. "Any reason you want me to wear this now, before you put a piece of your soul into it?"

"If anyone, such as your dear Alphie, questions why I gave you the ring when I did, they will remember the day Barnabus Cuffe blasphemed against me," Voldemort answered.

"The stone may be Peverell, but the ring itself was Salazar Slytherin's," Harry reminded.

"All the more reason for you to wear it," Voldemort reaffirmed. "Let the maggots who claim to be of my house see that you are the only one worthy of me."

"Thank you," Harry appreciated.

The cousins stood in silence for a minute.

"There is an old law I have brought to Dippet's attention," Voldemort mentioned. "A law that makes me, as a descendant of a Founder, directly responsible for the discipline of all junior family members."

"Is that so?" Harry smiled.

"So long as you do not commit any prosecutable crimes, you may do as you wish to any who annoy you," Voldemort allowed. "Privately or publicly."

"You sound like you want me to cast some curses," Harry noted.

"Painful as it is to admit, you correctly predicted that our society's elite would find ways to mock me when my blood proved older and purer than theirs," Voldemort conceded as he began to pace. "Those Ministry files, which we must find and destroy, doubtlessly mention that my grandfather resided in Little Hangleton. Our manor will remain impregnable to interlopers in our time here. But our best defense against detractors will be intimidation."

"I agree," Harry nodded.

"Would Weasley provide you the names of the witches and wizards involved in the Gaunts' arrest?" Voldemort asked.

"Septimus would easily trace their murders back to us," Harry pointed out.

Voldemort cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"I never said anything about murder," he smiled.

"You—I just—oh, don't act like you aren't planning on it!" Harry retorted.

"I am," Voldemort confirmed. "However, I do appreciate you volunteering to shed the blood of my enemies."

"You know I'll stand with you in almost anything you do," Harry huffed, waving his hand toward the Slytherin statue and the basilisk within to prove his point.

"Yes, especially when we destroy Dumbledore," Voldemort pressed.

"We are nowhere near capable of challenging Dumbledore," Harry rejected hotly.

"We shall surpass him sooner than later," Voldemort promised.

Harry turned away, disgusted with himself for even entertaining the thought of standing against his mentor in a lethal duel.

"Together, we'll do extraordinary things," Voldemort repeated one of his very first promises.

"Together," Harry sighed.

"You have no further business to attend today?" Voldemort inquired.

"Not after my three-hour Quidditch practice this morning," Harry confirmed.

"I see no reason for us to sully ourselves with unworthy company for the rest of the day," Voldemort proposed.

Harry grinned at his cousin's sentiment, particularly due to the grandiose phrasing.

"Let's practice projections more," Harry decided. "You'll need to completely master that form of magic to split your soul."

"I fooled you, did I not?" Voldemort praised himself.

"You've surpassed me in that realm," Harry congratulated. "But I want to have the utmost confidence in your ability to bilocate before I watch you split yourself."

"If you insist," Voldemort drawled as a projection walked out of his body and into Harry's.

"Hey!" Harry complained.