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Chapter Five—Dark Dawn

"You must admit it's quite a coincidence that so many of your suspects end up dead, Auror Potter."

Harry leaned back in his chair in front of the Head Auror's desk and smiled with only his lips. "Well, a lot of them were dueling me at the time, sir. And a number of them were fans of my sister who became violent when they were denied access to her."

Head Auror Scrimgeour stared at Harry. Harry stared back. Scrimgeour wasn't a Legilimens like Travers, but he was, unfortunately, an Occlumens. It meant that the Memory Charm wouldn't work against him, either.

Scrimgeour looked down and sorted through a few papers on his desk. "I notice that you were the only one who was a witness to their statements about your sister, Auror Potter. Several times."

"Are you accusing me of murder, sir?"

Scrimgeour twitched his head in irritation. "I am accusing you of carelessness."

Harry almost nodded before he caught himself. Scrimgeour was no fan of Dark wizards, and he would look the other way when they came in dead or broken. But he didn't like the idea that his Aurors would acquire a reputation for carelessness.

Harry kept his voice as calm and reasonable as he could. "I'm sorry, sir. It's true that I've been overzealous several times."

"And the part about your suspects being fans of your sister?"

"Most of the time, sir, they were."

Harry might have been the one to bring Patricia up, but what he said was true.

Scrimgeour twitched his head again, like a lion annoyed by flies. "Well, there have been enough complaints that I have no choice but to remove you from cases for a time, Auror Potter. I hope that you'll be able to see reason."

"See reason, sir?"

"About attending Mind-Soothing sessions."

Harry hissed before he could stop himself. Mind-Healing was one thing, and he'd done that many times, as people like Travers probed into his thoughts and attempted to understand his actions. Mind-Soothing, however, would affect his emotions and involve direct manipulation of them at St. Mungo's. "Sir—"

"No, Auror Potter."

Harry shut his mouth. He knew that he could press up against the limits of Scrimgeour's patience, and get away with much more than other people, but he also knew that particular tone. It meant Scrimgeour needed him to shut up.

Or rather, required that he shut up.

Scrimgeour leaned forwards, his eyes boring into Harry's, giving more than he ever had the impression of a lion about to charge. "You might have done good work, and you might have destroyed some genuinely Dark wizards and witches whose trials would have convulsed the Wizengamot, but you've gone too far. You've thought of yourself as immune to consequences, and you. Have. Been. Careless. You need Mind-Soothing if you're going to remain an Auror."

Harry felt himself baring his teeth, something he couldn't control. Scrimgeour simply looked at him, and then up with his eyebrows raised.

"You do not frighten me, Auror Potter."

I could. Harry felt his magic stirring within him, flexing talons, ready to burst out of him if he wanted it to do so—

But Harry shook his head and leaned back, summoning a smile to his lips with an effort. His magic wouldn't impress Scrimgeour, and he couldn't take the chance that he would be removed as an Auror. Not when he had to remain in place to keep track of Riddle's activities and better protect his family.

Not when he would have no sense of purpose in life without his cases.

"If you insist that I attend Mind-Soothing, Head Auror," he said, "I of course will."

"Yes, you will."

And Auror Scrimgeour turned and wrote an extensive set of orders on parchments, while Harry watched and seethed. "Your cases will be handed over to others, effective immediately," Scrimgeour said absently as he wrote. "Aurors Holden and Fawley are waiting to escort you to St. Mungo's for your first appointment."

No chance to get out of it. Harry flattened his hand on his knee and said simply, "Who will take over my cases, sir?"

Scrimgeour shook his head as he turned around and sealed one of the scrolls. Another one he tossed into the air, and it simply flew away as a memo without a pause. "You don't need to worry about that, Auror Potter. You may be assured that they will be competent."

You can't know that! They could let people get away!

But Harry had to nod and pretend little interest as Scrimgeour called out, and Aurors Holden and Fawley came in. Both of them were older than Harry, slower, but also far more solid. And they had been waiting for their orders, so they knew ahead of time they would have to escort him.

How long has Scrimgeour been planning this?

However long it was, Harry hadn't stood a chance.

He rose, keeping a pleasant expression on his face. Both Aurors watched him closely, carefully. They might not think he was actively dangerous, but they thought that they would have to move against him.

That might be Riddle's doing as much as Scrimgeour's, though.

Harry maintained his expression all the way through the door and into the lifts and out into the Atrium where they would take the Floo to St. Mungo's. He did happen to see a finely-dressed figure standing by the fountain, staring at him with what would seem to be an expression of surprise on anyone else.

Only someone who knew him, like the man who had been his soulmate before the burning, would see the tight, pleased little lines at the corners of his eyes.

Harry held his gaze and spun out a thin thread of his magic. He couldn't get away with much, not in the middle of the Atrium, in public, and with how fast his Auror escort was moving.

But he could do one thing, and he lashed at Riddle with a cold tendril.

Riddle gasped and swayed a little. He didn't quite press a hand to his groin, but it was a close thing.

There. That would keep Riddle from getting an erection until after Harry finished his several Mind-Soothing appointments. It ought to help him be a little less smug.

And since it was a tendril of Harry's magic instead of a spell, it couldn't be ended in the way that a hex could.

Harry smiled at Riddle, enjoying the sight of the fury in his eyes, before the Floo whirled him away.

"Professor Potter."

"Oh, please, I haven't taught at Hogwarts in years," Lily Potter said automatically, before she turned around and adopted a somewhat strained smile at the sight of Tom. "Oh, Unspeakable Riddle. Yes? What can I do for you?"

Tom smiled at her. She was a poised, pretty woman, with eyes that were not nearly as bright a green as Harry's and a smile that softened more and more as she met his gaze. And she had nothing but the palest of Occlumency barriers.

"I'm afraid that I might have alienated Harry," Tom said, as he spread a skin of trusting and impulse to trust him further across her mind with his Legilimency. "He seems to think that it's my fault he was taken to St. Mungo's."

"Oh, no, Unspeakable Riddle, I think—"

"Please, call me Tom."

"Tom?" Mrs. Potter stared at him, and Tom dipped more into her eyes and smoothed out the sharp edges of suspicion and worry and resentment. Well, except in one direction. He built those edges of worry higher towards the image of her son in her mind.

"I'm going to be your son-in-law, aren't I?"

"Oh!" Mrs. Potter's hand went to her mouth, a mannerism that Tom found Muggle and affected. Luckily, he had a lot of practice in hiding his contempt, having worked in the Ministry for decades. "But I thought—since Harry burned the soul-mark—you couldn't be—"

"I know more about magical theory than anyone in Britain, I would think. I will find a way to resurrect the bond. But," Tom stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. They were in a little-frequented corridor of the Ministry that Mrs. Potter had been taking to the lifts. Still, there were precautions that were always sensible. "I wondered if you could tell me something about Harry."

"I…he probably wouldn't like that…"

"Just a few simple things. Things that his soulmate should know. That you would have told me if he'd found me in the usual way."

All the while, Tom swept through and smoothed her mind, and tugged a few memories forwards. He had to use too much concentration on the conversation to really look at those memories in detail, but they blazed with a brilliance that he found promising.

"You really think you can resurrect the bond?"

"I promise I will do my best."

Tom spoke only the truth. Although his dreams of a soulmate had never included someone who would burn their mark or who would render Tom impotent in vengeance, Tom could not now imagine going after anyone but Harry. His soulmate was infuriating, dangerous, violent, and someone Tom would have murdered under other circumstances.

And Tom wanted Harry as he had never wanted anyone else.

"All right, then." Mrs. Potter glanced around and lowered his voice, so Tom drew his wand and raised a Privacy Wall around them, more sophisticated and more tuned to preventing eavesdropping than a Privacy Charm. Mrs. Potter blinked but accepted it. "One thing you should know is that Harry has always loved his sister fiercely."

"Because they're twins?"

"Because he sees Patricia as helpless compared to him."

Tom paused. That was an interesting fact that he had not expected to hear, and he wondered if Mrs. Potter would have said it in an ordinary mood. He had the distinct impression that Harry's family did not know how violent he was. He murmured, "Why is that?"

"Harry's magic has always been more powerful, and tuned to offensive as well as defensive uses." Mrs. Potter looked a little apologetic. Tom dipped into her head and found that she thought he wouldn't want a soulmate skilled in offensive magic, but in subtle spells and magical theory. Tom had to work hard to keep his amusement pressed down. "And I think he went a little mad when Michael was cursed."

He has always been a little mad. "In what way, Mrs. Potter?"

"Oh, please call me Lily."

Tom accepted with a smile and a nod. First names would increase the link that his Legilimency was creating between them. "In what way, Lily?"

"Harry thought he should have kept Patricia safe, but he couldn't keep her safe from what that deranged person did to Michael." Lily's eyes were shadowed, staring past Tom now, in a way that would make it more difficult for him to use Legilimency on her. But he didn't need to. The words were pouring out of her. "And it was killing Patricia. You could see that. You could see how she was fading day by day. Harry asked the Healers for any kind of cure they could provide, and they had to tell him there was nothing they could do. So he took matters into his own hands."

"Has he always been like that?"

"Yes. At least with regards to his sister. When he was younger, it was with some spells that he wanted to learn and didn't think he was learning fast enough." Lily smiled wanly. "Now—I keep telling him that no one asked him to sacrifice his mark to wake Michael up, and he says that he knows that and he doesn't care. He says it was his choice."

I will make him make a different choice, when all is said and done. I will make him turn towards me like the tides towards the moon, like the Earth towards the sun—

"Tom?"

Yes, he was still in front of Lily Potter, and he couldn't show her so much of his secret face. Tom let himself blink and give her back much the same wan smile she had given him. "I see. I thought it might have been the way you raised him, but he did give me the same line about how it had been his choice."

He whispered into her mind and soothed down the instinctive outrage that had risen in her at the thought that they might have harmed their son, and nudged her thoughts in a different direction—

"He should have thought harder about who else would be affected by his decision, besides just him and Patricia and Michael."

"I agree."

"And that includes himself!"

"I agree."

Tom did. Harry not thinking about himself made him a more intriguing soulmate, but a frustrating one, and Tom would have been better able to find and court him with the mark. He would be better able to make Harry pay attention to him now.

Lily Potter bit her lip and studied Tom for a moment. "I was wondering if you would want to come to a small dinner at our house. Just me, and James, and Harry, and you. I was thinking about it before Harry got taken to St. Mungo's, but I didn't know how to invite you."

She had not been thinking about it before Tom had planted the suggestion, via Legilimency, in her mind, but that didn't matter. Tom let his smile widen into a gentle one. "I would be most pleased, Lily."

Harry grimaced and rubbed his head as he stepped out of his family's Floo. Fucking Mind-Soothing. The Healer who had talked softly to him about calming his feelings of violence and wanting to lash out at the world had then tried to scrape the inside of his head smooth and raw, it felt like.

The Healer had referred to it as breaking the hard shell of an egg to reach the true shape inside. Harry thought that he would have preferred having a hard mind to one that was breaking and leaking all over the place, thanks.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry whirled, putting his back to the wall near the fireplace. Fucking Riddle was standing near the couch in front of the hearth, hands folded behind his back and eyes gleaming a scarlet color.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Harry snarled.

"Your mother thought you deserved a chance to get to know your soulmate. And that I deserved a chance to get to know you." Riddle moved his head a little forwards, an oddly snake-like gesture. "Isn't that nice?"

"Bollocks! She thought that because—"

"Harry! Tom is our guest."

Mum bustled into the sitting room, giving Harry a fierce frown before she turned and smiled at Riddle. That told Harry all he needed to know about how Riddle had messed with her mind. Most of the time, she never would have put guests before her children, even if she wanted to make a good impression on important people.

And most of the time, she wouldn't have invited Riddle without warning him about it ahead of time, either.

As Mum fussed about how they were going to have a nice dinner with just "your soulmate and me and your father," Harry began to ease his magic out of his body. It would take a while, but he knew exactly how he would strike back at Riddle.

Riddle, who was watching him with a fierce, sick desire.

He shouldn't want someone who defied him. Who scarred him.

I know that I'm sick, but he's doubly so. At least I only scar myself, not the lovers I intend to take.

Then something his mother had said came more fully to Harry's attention, and he felt part of him freeze. "Did you say that Patricia and Michael aren't going to be here?"

"Yes, that's right." The last thing Harry expected was for Mum to turn and looked at him with a remorseful expression. "I know that you've said you never felt neglected for Patricia's sake, that you never felt like we valued you less, but you burned your soul-mark, Harry. That must mean we messed up somewhere along the way. You could use some time alone with just us and your soulmate so that you can understand you're valued for yourself."

Harry half-smiled and nodded. He knew that Mum saw only the concession, because she smiled at him and reached out to grasp his hands. "I'm so glad that you agree, Harry. I think it's important that you get to know Tom as much as you can without the soulmate bond. Not that I think he'll fail to bring the bond back somehow."

Mum kept talking as she bustled towards the kitchen, but Harry kept standing where he was, and didn't take his eyes from Riddle's. He spoke in his warped version of Parseltongue. "What did you do to her? Legilimency?"

"What a thing to accuse me of, darling," Riddle hissed back. "Perhaps there's something to your mother's theory that you felt yourself of less worth than your sister."

Harry had to keep his magic reserved for what he needed to do later on, so he didn't retaliate the way he wanted to. He just held Riddle's gaze and said, "You should know that I will always value her and Michael over you."

Riddle half-lunged forwards, and Harry tensed in anticipation. He was at least sure that he would beat Riddle in a physical fight, given that he had Auror training and Riddle spent most of his time behind a desk—

But Riddle drew himself backwards, with a little shake of his head and a quiet laugh. "I look forward to making you reverse that opinion," he said, speaking in English, perhaps to prove his point. "I look forward to making you stare at me with such longing that it feels as if it's going to rupture your veins."

Harry just stared at him with a distinct lack of longing and said nothing. Riddle turned on his heel after a moment and headed into the kitchen as Mum called out a cheerful invitation.

Harry followed, coiling his magic on the air. He smiled a little when he saw his father, but not a lot. The slightly glazed look in Dad's eyes said that Riddle had been hard at work on him, too.

He's going to regret that. He's going to regret pursuing this.

Tom was torn between admiration for Harry's manners—so he could use them when he thought that he should—and disgust that Harry had never thought his soulmate merited those manners.

Someday, I will. Someday, he will look at no one but me.

"So," Tom said, and leaned across the table to give Harry his most charming smile. "I must admit to some curiosity as to why you gave up on finding your soulmate, Harry."

"Oh. Well, I was twenty-nine years old. Most people find their soulmates long before that, you know? Most find them at Hogwarts."

"But there are the occasional people who find them at any age."

"Oh, of course. I've read those stories about someone learning who their soulmate is on their deathbed, too."

There was silence after that, with Harry sipping at his water and smiling at Tom. Tom narrowed his eyes. The agreement was polite, and so was Harry's tone. It still wasn't the continuation of the conversation that Tom had wanted.

Someday, he will do everything I want.

"But you did not take the steps of asking around after someone who had the same mark as you did?" Tom asked at last.

"Unspeakable Riddle." Harry frowned at him. "After all, that's crass. Most people consider their soul-marks sacred, and prefer to keep them as quiet as possible."

It was true, and Tom himself had succumbed to the romance of having his soulmate seek him out. If he had not, he would not have been in this particular situation. But at the moment, his decision was just another weapon in Harry's hands.

"Harry, darling," Mrs. Potter interjected, "I don't think you should call Tom by his last name, do you? It prevents you from getting close enough to be good soulmates."

"Sorry, Mum. I thought I was showing respect for his advanced age."

Tom didn't grit his teeth. He only smiled back and murmured, "I do not need a younger soulmate who cringes before me, Harry. I assure you that I am willing to share all my experience with you."

Harry flushed, while his parents laughed uncomfortably. Even under the push of Tom's Legilimency, they obviously didn't know what to do with the innuendo that he had dangled in front of his soulmate.

Harry lowered his eyes and murmured, "I fear that I would disappoint you."

"You could never do that, darling."

"But you've had seventy years to build up your dreams about your soulmate! How could I ever live up to seven decades of waiting and thinking?"

Tom raised his eyebrows and said, "I've actually waited over eighty years. I'm willing to share all the little intimate details with you as well—starting with when my birthday is. I think soulmates should be honest with each other, now that we've found each other."

"Honesty," Harry agreed, and smiled and nodded. "I respect that."

And his magic snapped like a lash across the air. Tom stood up so that his chair flew behind him and raised a wandless shield, then paused. It seemed that the lash hadn't been directed him at all.

"What are you—Harry, what is Unspeakable Riddle doing here?"

Tom turned to face the elder Potters, one hand clenching above his wand holster. He knew what must have happened, but disbelief was slowing him down. No one could simply reach in and get rid of implanted Legilimency commands like the ones he'd used on the Potters, not without ripping their minds apart.

Except that Harry just had.

Harry, who was sipping his water and smiling when Tom looked back at him.

"Unspeakable Riddle, I insist that you explain yourself at once.'

James Potter's voice could become colder than Tom had reckoned, but it was Lily Potter he was watching. She was trembling faintly, and she'd already drawn her wand. The air around her shimmered and colored with winking green and golden lights. She was going to unleash a blast of emotion-driven power in a moment.

"I thought I would come and surprise Harry," Tom said. "I admit that some of my enemies have been employing spells to blur the memories of conversations I have and actions I take in the minds of my allies. I didn't know they had struck you, or that they had pressured you to invite me to dinner and it wasn't natural on your part. My sincerest apologies."

"Not true," Harry said. "He used—"

"Consider what I can do to them, with how close I am to them," Tom hissed.

Harry's eyes went flat, and his magic turned towards Tom, like a serpent rearing up and staring with a flickering tongue.

Tom wanted nothing more than to duel him and see who would emerge the victor, but he could not permit this in an enclosed space where he might damage Harry's parents more than he'd intended to. "Careful, darling. Consider your mother's emotional state."

Harry slid a glance to the side, obviously saw the sparks around his mother's face, and sat back with a long nod. But his voice, when he spoke in his warped version of Parseltongue, was anything but peaceful. "Do this to them again and I will rend your soul."

Tom swallowed, wondering if Harry would despise him for the pulse of sheer yearning that resounded through him. He wanted to duel Harry. He wanted to challenge Harry, and clasp him close, and—

"He used what, Harry?"

Mrs. Potter at least sounded a little calmer, although she was staring back and forth between Harry and Tom as if wondering when Harry had learned to speak Parseltongue. Harry sighed and sat up.

"He used that as an excuse," Harry said. "He could have investigated before he accepted the invitation if one of his enemies had done this. After all, wouldn't it be unlike you to invite my estranged soulmate to dinner the same day that I was supposed to be recovering from Mind-Soothing? But he chose not to do that. He's made a lot of interesting choices, this soulmate of mine."

Tom controlled the impulse to hiss at Harry in approval for using the word "mine." The Potter parents already looked upset enough about the Parseltongue. "Yes, that is true," he said. "I ought to have checked. And I ought to have considered the day better."

Harry twitched a little. After all, they both knew how carefully he had chosen the day, and why.

"Yes, well." Mrs. Potter put her wand away and shook her head sharply, one hand rising as if she could feel the loose tendrils of the spell she believed had affected her. "I do think that you ought to leave now, Unspeakable Riddle."

"Of course. And my apologies for intruding into your home, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter. Might I ask Harry to escort me to the Apparition point?"

Harry stood with a smile that was really dazzling in what it concealed. "Of course. I was about to suggest the same thing."

"You aren't too angry for that, Harry?" Mr. Potter asked, his voice quiet.

Harry shook his head. "No, Dad. The Mind-Soothing had at least that much effect."

It didn't have much more, Tom thought. He wished he could look into Harry's thoughts and find out exactly how the Mind-Soother had dealt with Harry, how much it had worked, what they had said and done.

And how much they had failed.

They walked outside in silence, and then Harry turned to Tom and said, "I meant it. I will rend your soul."

"Do you think even that powerful magic of yours could accomplish that, darling?"

Harry leaned towards Tom and smiled in a way that revealed his teeth and made Tom shiver. "I think it would do anything I asked of it."

Tom couldn't help the words that welled out of him, although part of him despised how weak they made him appear. "I hope someday you will do anything I ask of you."

"Panthers aren't meant to be on leashes."

Tom inclined his head and Apparated. But his mind was fixated on the last sight of Harry standing with his head raised and his eyes fastened on Tom, magnificent in his disdain.

Perhaps panthers are not meant for leashes, but one of them will learn.