Chapter 5

Returning to Privet Drive after their first evening of training was laborious. Harry was still exhausted from their efforts, and barely made it up the stairs to the spare bedroom. He hardly even noted that the Dursleys were not home, and had to admit he didn't care either. His head hit the pillow and he was out for the day.

The next morning, as the first rays of dawn pierced the darkness, Tom Riddle, apparated into Privet Drive, his footsteps silent on the concrete pavement. With each visit, he felt a sense of unease at having to navigate the muggle world, but he knew it was necessary to ensure Harry's safety and secrecy.

Tom had made it a point to communicate clearly with Harry about their daily departure time, leaving no room for confusion or delay. Harry, eager to escape the confines of his mundane existence, had been alert and ready in the backyard, his heart pounding with anticipation. Despite the lingering exhaustion from the previous day, Harry was prepared to do it all again.

As Tom's tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and relief. Slowly a trust was beginning to build in Tom, finding solace in the older teen's strength and unwavering commitment to their cause.

Without exchanging words, Tom extended his arm, offering Harry a silent invitation. Harry reached out and grasped Tom's arm. With a gentle pull, Tom apparated them both away from Privet Drive, leaving no trace of their departure.

They agreed it would be best for Tom to take Harry out of sight each day. Neither were sure if Dumbledore had left any spies or watchers to look after Harry, but they would not leave it to chance. With their departure from the backyard, it made it easy to come and go undetected, and for now, that would be in both parties' best interest.

During the second day of training, Tom took a real assessment of Harry's magical capabilities. It took some time, but the younger boy was almost certain he had cast every spell he was capable of. Harry could not decipher if Tom was excited or disappointed in his performance, but they moved from each branch and piece of magic decisively. By the end of Harry's test, Tom merely nodded and huffed out, "You will spend at least an hour everyday studying offensive curses. You have the defensive capabilities of an OWL-level student, but your ability to damage your enemies is laughable. The apprentice of Lord Voldemort cannot be so lackluster in their ability to dismantle their opponents."

It was following that statement that Tom had taken Harry back inside Gaunt Manor and showed him the only room on the second floor that seemed to be held to the modern standard. The library. Tom boasted that while the Gaunts may have been living in squalor, there were several books written on Parseltongue by various members of the family that had made records of their progress with the magical language, and the spells they had learned or created. Tom had also stolen several books from Hogwarts, Flourish and Blotts, and even other students with the help of Ginny. Their collection was enough to keep Harry busy for their Summer and likely the one after that as well.

Tom had left Harry with several hours that day to study, and by the time they had delved into the Mind Arts Harry was overwhelmed with the amount of knowledge he was attempting to consume. Regardless, Tom beat Harry into submission for the second day in a row without mercy. Only when Harry began to bleed from his nose again did Tom cease his efforts, and allow Harry to rest.

It seemed Tom had become disturbed by Harry's experience with the muggles. After one particular memory of the young boy being struck by a frying pan, it seemed Tom had decided that their lives were forfeit. He had hissed in parseltongue that if either were to lay another finger on Harry for the rest of his life, he would torture them till their minds fractured. Tom openly admitted that his love for children was very little, but the fact that a muggle would abuse a child of magical blood infuriated the young man.

In the ensuing weeks, Harry's life continued on a similar trajectory. Each day, he found himself in awe of his mentor's magical proficiency and vast knowledge. Harry dedicated himself to becoming a worthy student of Tom Riddle, eager to absorb all that he could from this enigmatic figure. Yet, within the depths of his admiration, a chilling realization lingered—he was studying under the tutelage of the man destined to become the most notorious dark wizard of all time.

At times, Harry was reminded of this dark truth when he made a mistake. A momentary flash of irritation would flicker across Tom's face, briefly transforming him into a being consumed by a psychotic rage. In those fleeting moments, Harry would catch a glimpse of the sinister potential that lay dormant within his mentor. However, as quickly as the rage appeared, it would dissipate, and Tom would resume his usual demeanor, lavishing Harry with praise and encouragement.

This duality within Tom left Harry feeling conflicted. He found himself torn between his fascination with Tom's brilliance and the growing unease that gnawed at his conscience. Each day, Harry grappled with the knowledge that he was walking a dangerous path, learning from a man who possessed the capacity for both greatness and unspeakable evil.

Harry's determination to work harder was motivated by a delicate balance. While he had avoided punishment from his mentor, Tom, the threat of pain lingered with each mistake. Despite the temptation to retaliate, Tom appeared to exercise restraint, preventing himself from inflicting harm. Harry, however, recognized that this restraint might not last indefinitely, prompting him to give his best effort and ensure that he exceeded his mentor's expectations.

In the labyrinthine depths of Harry's mind, uncertainty gnawed at his resolve. The alliance he had forged with a man capable of such ruthless actions, a man who would sacrifice thousands in his relentless pursuit of power, left him grappling with his own sanity. The moral quandary tormented him, casting shadows upon his conscience.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there existed a persistent voice within Harry's head, whispering insidious reminders. It recounted the two years he had spent immersed in the magical world, and the thirteen years of his life that came before, during which Tom was the first individual who had shown genuine interest in him. Tom had taken Harry under his wing, enveloped him in his protection, imparted invaluable knowledge, and guided him through the intricacies of the magical realm.

With each passing day, Harry struggled to reconcile the Tom who cared for him with the man who had ruthlessly murdered his parents. The teen remained ignorant of the true motive behind Voldemort's actions, and a profound sense of dread filled him as he anticipated the day when the truth would be revealed. However, a glimmer of hope flickered within him, harboring a desire that the truth would remain concealed forever.

The conflicting emotions surged within Harry's heart, creating an inner tempest that threatened to overwhelm him. He longed for solace, for guidance that would illuminate his path forward. But the complexities of his situation left him adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity, questioning his own sanity and the choices he had made.

Within a month, Harry's spellcasting had noticeably improved, a testament to his dedication and hard work. However, his progress in the Mind Arts studies remained stagnant. Tom, the young Dark Lord, had spent another long night rummaging through Harry's mind, and when he finally exited, Harry could sense the man's frustration radiating off of him.

For his part, Harry was barely keeping the lights on in his head, while Tom was pacing in front of him. The frown on his face indicated his displeasure, while Harry buried his hands in his face for a few minutes, attempting to do anything that would relieve his pounding headache.

"Your progress in all forms of magic we've studied is commendable, except for this one—the most crucial one." The irritation in Tom's voice was palpable, causing Harry to fidget uncomfortably. "At this rate, you won't be able to resist even a mediocre Legilimens, let alone Albus Dumbledore. The sudden leap in your abilities after the summer will be inexplicable, arousing the headmaster's curiosity to a dangerous degree. We must devise a solution and prepare a way to safeguard your mind."

With a heavy heart, Harry realized the formidable task that lay ahead of him. He understood that his decision would come with daunting consequences, but he was unwavering in his resolve. He solemnly declared, "I will continue like this as long as necessary. I will get this. Even if I have to do it like this for the rest of Summer."

Harry practically spat the last part, but not in defiance, instead in determination. Tom stopped his pacing, and glanced at Harry, his expression not wavering, "Your grit is admirable. I admit I did not imagine you suffering this much to learn the Mind Arts, not with the ease you demonstrated in learning everything else I have attempted to impart to you. There are some magicks that just do not come naturally to some, and I fear this is one for you. There may be a way to…ease your learning curve."

After being subjected to relentless legilimency for nearly a month, Harry was at his wit's end. He knew that he had to do something to break free from Tom's attacks, but he was unsure what.

He knew that there were many unnatural ways to gain strength. He had read stories about dark wizards who had made pacts with demons, or who had performed forbidden rituals to enhance their powers. He knew that Voldemort must have delved into many of these dark arts, due to how powerful he had become.

Harry hesitated, torn between his desire for freedom of thought and his moral compass. As if sensing his hesitation, Tom posed the quandary, "How far are you willing to go…to be great, Harry?"

The question sent a chill down Harry's spine. He knew that Tom was testing him, trying to see if he could be tempted by the promise of power. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to control his emotions.

He knew that he had to make a choice. He could either continue to fight Tom with the same old unsuccessful methods, or he could embrace the dark arts and become as powerful as his mentor. He had to find a way to keep up with Tom, even if it meant sacrificing some of his own principles.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and looked at the man he was slowly beginning to see as Voldemort. "I'll do whatever it takes," he said.

Tom smiled. "Good," he said. "Then you are ready to begin your journey."

Swallowing hard at the quandary, Harry's mind froze. His eyes followed Tom as he swept to his side, and placed a hand on his shoulder, allowing the teen to think. When Harry said nothing, the young man asked, "How far are you willing to go to protect our secrets?"

It felt like his tongue was tied in knots. He knew where Tom's mind was going. Harry had promised his best effort. He wanted to be great. Now the young boy just couldn't think what was stopping him from taking the next step in magical evolution. Tom asked in a soft voice leering with temptation, "Are you going to let him take you from me, Harry? Are you going to go back to those filthy muggles, who not only don't love you, but loathe you? Is that what you want? To allow Dumbledore to rule your life?"

"No." Harry said, but it came out in a whisper, instead of in defiance, like he wanted it too. Tom clapped him on the shoulder, "Atta boy, Harry. Now I believe you turn 13 next week, yes?"

"On Saturday." Harry answered cautiously.

"There is a ritual." Tom confessed as if it were a great reveal, "Something frowned upon by the Ministry, and something you would definitely not find in Dumbledore's library, but it could assist you. It could help ease your troubles with Occlumency and even give you a slight edge in dueling on a battlefield, and learning in a classroom. It could be quite the boon."

The weight of his choice bore down on him. Even if only in passing Harry had read about the side effects of those who dabbled in ritualistic magic. It was a gateway to the Dark Arts. A gateway to unsequestered power. It was a road that was dangerous, and near impossible to go back on once decided. Harry truly believed it was this road that led to the creation of Lord Voldemort. The man who lost sight in the vision of leading the magical world over the muggles.

Just a month ago, Harry had felt all his hopes and dreams shatter when Tom held him on his knees with a promise of death to follow. Now things have changed. He had a chance to be strong, like Tom, and he could be great, if only he were brave enough.

"What would I have to do?" Harry asked resolutely.

"Embrace pain." Tom confessed, "Sacrifice blood. The rest would be merely parlor tricks and ingredients."

Pausing at the answer, Harry grasped at his own humanity when he asked quietly, "I won't have to hurt anyone?"

The hand on his shoulder tightened, "Not this time, Harry. There are many powerful rituals that could help you along the way that require all types of sacrifice, but I can assure you this is not one of them. Only your own blood, pain, and effort in retrieving the ingredients will be sacrificed. All things that are worth sacrificing for greatness. For success. For power."

Nodding in agreement and understanding, Harry asked, "What will happen to me if it works?"

"I discovered the ritual just before I turned fifteen." Tom explained, "It is recommended that young wizards do it on their thirteenth birthday for optimum effects, but I was behind the curve. You will be fortunate, however, to have a more practiced hand that has dabbled in this branch of magic. However, even as I did not get the full benefits of the ritua,l it felt like my mind was expanded. I found it much easier to stay focused on my tasks. My body felt healthier, cleaner, and I never once fell ill afterwards. I was growing much that year. I was unable to really determine if my magic was stronger because of the ritual, or if that was just due to my own studies, but there are many possibilities in ritualistic magic. Even more so as you delve deeper into Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

Becoming more firm in his resolve, Harry said, "If it will help my Occlumency, and the rest of my training, then I will do it."

"Excellent." Tom said, clapping his hands together, "I will gather the ingredients. Until then, I will give your mind the remainder of the week to rest. I do not wish to cause any unnecessary distress. I warn you that we will resume with vigor the day after the ritual after all goes according to plan."

It was interesting to watch Tom become so excited about anything magical. Rarely did Harry ever see the teen become passionate about anything. Even when talking about torturing Harry's relatives, it was with passing interest. It was clear the teen was fascinated by this branch of magic, and the wonder of what was to come played on Harry's mind.

The rest of the week passed in a blur, but Tom's high spirits remained. The young man had become so discouraged by Harry's lack of progress in occlumency, but seemed renewed with hope and vigor now that Harry had embraced the idea of a ritual.

Over the week, Harry had studied the piece of magic that he would be attempting. It seemed innocuous enough, and by reading the Gaunt family journals he knew many of them had attempted the ritual. It was nothing horrific as far as the young boy could tell, but powdered unicorn horn was a fairly rare magical substance. Most of the other ingredients he could not recognize, but saw ashwinder eggs were also a part of the potion he would drink before carving the runes and tracing them with his own blood. The ritual promised immense pain that caused Harry's stomach to turn each time he thought about it, but each time he prompted Tom about the experience, the young man merely promised he had experienced worse.

His thirteenth birthday approached faster than he cared for. Never before had Harry really celebrated his birthday. The Dursleys never cared to do anything for the occasion, nor did he ever have friends growing up that would have been willing to celebrate with him. It almost felt odd when Tom had picked up that morning and wished him a productive birthday.

The situation was a far cry from what he had experienced two years before. The week he learned he was a wizard was unlikely one he would ever forget.

.o.

Harry had awoken to the sounds of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. As usual, the cupboard rattled under the weight of the walrus-sized boy stampeding his way towards the kitchen, causing dust and debris to land on the young boy. Stirring awake, Harry had no cognizance of what day it was. The roar of his name from his uncle told him, however, that his time for rest was over.

Stirring out of his small cot and opening the door to his cupboard, he found himself forcefully shoved back in, while hitting his head on the small door frame. Groaning in pain, he heard his uncle roar his name again, "POTTER!"

Mumbling curses under his breath Harry managed to make it out of his cupboard a little more cautiously this time, but with no Dudley in his way, he slinked his way into the kitchen, blinking black spots out of his eyes from the blinding light and the pain in his head.

"Having a lie in are we? Get to it, boy!" Vernon demanded, "Coffee, bacon, eggs, now!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry muttered as he set to work in the kitchen.

A basic breakfast would be simple enough. Harry was grateful they had not asked for more. More than likely his relatives would have plans for the weekend, and would be out of his hair for most of the day with some luck. Just as he was finishing preparing his uncle's pot of coffee, and taking the bacon off the pan, a sharp knock on the door was heard.

"The post is here, boy!" Vernon exclaimed as he continued to read his newspaper, no sign of getting up.

Sighing in disbelief, Harry moved towards the door and saw a fair amount of envelopes on the floor. Bending over to pick it up, his eyes caught his own name on top, and he blinked several times, thinking he had finally suffered brain damage from Dudley's machinations, but after his staring prolonged he realized the letter was indeed addressed to him.

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4. Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry had never received mail before, and immediately frowned in suspicion. Not wanting to chance his family taking his first parcel away he slid the letter under the door to the cupboard and continued with taking the post to his uncle.

If the man suspected anything, there was no indication, and Harry returned to putting the finishing touches on breakfast with his heart thudding in his chest. Who could possibly be writing to him? Who could possibly know that he lived under the cupboard? Was it a joke perhaps played by Dudley or one of his friends?

The thoughts plagued his mind until he was dismissed back to his quarters, where he all but dove into the cupboard, shutting the door and turning on the only light. As quietly as possible, he opened the letter and stared at its content, his frown deepening as he read it:

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry re-read the contents of the letter perhaps a few dozen times before finally scoffing and tossing it aside. Attached to the letter were several texts and necessities the school would require, but the young boy was no fool. He knew someone was pulling an elaborate prank on him. He had to give it to Dudley and his friends this was far more creative than he would've believed them capable of, but regardless, he stored the letter away, wondering if he could catch his bullies in a lie, or if they would taunt him with information about the letter.

To his surprise, the days leading up to his eleventh birthday passed, but there was no mention of the letter from any direction. Not the slightest hint. The only odd observation he made through the entire week was the presence of a large brown owl that never seemed to take its eyes off Privet Drive. It was almost as if the creature was suspecting something, but to Harry's surprise, it had disappeared on the morning of his birthday.

Eleven was no milestone in Harry's mind. Another year under the Dursley's rule, and several more to go before he would be free of his relatives. Another normal day of making breakfast in the kitchen for his family led to the first break of normality when a sharp knock on the door occurred.

Knock was a generous term, however as it sounded more like multiple thunderclaps echoing through the house. Vernon had nearly jumped out of his chair in freight, when he shouted at Harry, "See who is at the bloody door, and tell them to learn to knock easier."

Nodding in freight, Harry scrambled towards the door, and threw it open prepared to warn the offender of his uncle's ire, before he lost his voice at the sight of the man. Man was almost not an adequate term for the person that found themselves at the front entrance of Privet Drive. This person had to be nearly twice the size of his uncle, which was something Harry didn't believe to be possible. The beard of the man was massive in itself, and Harry took a small step back in wonder at the large man who offered him a beaming smile, "Harry! I haven't seen you since you were a baby, but you are a little further behind than I thought you would be, especially right here."

Hagrid held a hand towards his hip about to the height that Harry stood at, but the young boy just stared at him with an open jaw, "I'm sorry sir, do I know you?"

Waving off Harry's question the man reached behind him and pulled out a small box, "Got something here for you. Afraid I might have sat on it at some point. Reckon it'll taste the same. Made it myself, words and all."

When the man offered Harry the box, he took it gently from the man who stepped into the house as if he had been invited. His head nearly touched the ceiling, but what held Harry's focus was the box that held a cake wishing him a happy birthday. It was the first time anyone ever made him a cake, much less wished him a happy birthday, "Thank you."

The words came out in a whisper, but Hagrid just nodded, looking quite pleased, "Not everyday a young man turns eleven!"

The man seemed to glimpse around the house before frowning, but said nothing, until Harry asked, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Hagrid said proudly.

Harry's eyes widened at the familiar name of the school and he realized that perhaps he had not been pranked with the letter. He had always known he was special. He had made very odd things happen over the years, particularly his ability to escape difficult situations, or speak with the snakes in the garden. He knew they were unnatural abilities, and the arrival of this man, and his knowledge of Harry seemed to confirm all his craziest theories.

Before he could launch into a million questions, Vernon came thundering into the hallway, "Who the devil are you letting into our house, boy?"

"Dry up, Dursley you great prune!" Hagrid thundered back, stepping between Harry and Vernon.

The following conversation would change Harry's life. When Vernon threatened to prevent Harry from attending, Hagrid assured the man he would not be allowed to do so, and that his name had been down at Hogwarts since before he was even born. When Hagrid had left Harry behind it was with dreams of a new world, and his only fear was that his relatives might attempt to prevent him from joining it.

.o.

As Tom and Harry arrived at Gaunt Manor, Tom conveyed to Harry that, while there might not be any presents for him, all the essential ingredients for potion-making had been meticulously gathered or obtained through Tom's diligent efforts. On a brighter note, Harry had excitedly received his Hogwarts letter the night before and reassured Tom that he would return with an ample amount of galleons to procure any additional supplies they desired.

Of course, there wasn't much Tom could not get through force. The young Dark Lord used the confundus charm liberally and Harry had even learned about the Imperious Curse for those who might attempt to resist Tom's abilities. Harry had yet to witness Tom use the curse, but it was there as a backup in case they ran into someone well-versed in the mind arts, or capable of resisting the young Dark Lord's charms.

The spell of complete control fascinated Harry. Tom had promised Harry that he would teach him how to break it once he had a better understanding of Occlumency. It was something Harry was already looking forward to. The spell seemed extremely useful and he was disappointed to learn of the lifetime sentence in Azkaban that would follow if he were caught using it.

In that fateful lesson, Harry delved into the dark depths of magic, discovering the existence of a select few spells that carried the dire consequence of an automatic life sentence. Although the vast repertoire of spells held countless heinous options, only three stood out as indisputable arbiters of one's fate.

Foremost among these unforgivable curses was the Imperious Curse, a spell that granted complete control over another's will, rendering them a mere puppet in the hands of the caster. It was the ultimate violation of free will, transforming the victim into nothing more than an extension of the perpetrator's desires.

Next in this unholy trinity was the Cruciatus Curse, a spell that inflicted excruciating pain upon its target. The sheer agony it caused was beyond imagination, pushing the victim to the brink of madness and despair. It was a curse that Tom had once used to torture Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley, reveling in his screams of anguish.

Finally, there was the Killing Curse, the most lethal spell of all. It was the curse that had left Harry with his iconic scar, a constant reminder of the night his parents were murdered by Voldemort. With a single, emerald-green bolt of light, the Killing Curse snuffed out life instantly, leaving no trace of mercy in its wake.

Harry struggled to comprehend the concept of spells that held such irrevocable power. The idea that a single incantation could strip away a person's freedom, inflict unimaginable pain, or extinguish life itself was deeply unsettling. However, Tom, his enigmatic mentor, promised a more practical demonstration later in Harry's magical career, leaving him with a sense of foreboding and anticipation.

Harry had assumed the two were going to train like normal today, but Tom had just grinned in response to his prompting of what they would be working on, "Today, we are going to go on a little field trip. I can't have you exhausting yourself before our delicate work tonight. I will allow you to study in peace until the early evening. Do not expect to return to Privet Drive tonight."

"That in itself is a gift." Harry muttered in gratitude, and asked, "May I ask where we are going?"

"You may. I won't tell you, but you could ask, and risk annoying me."

"Right. I will just go study my ritual and other works." Harry said sheepishly, and moved to the stairs that would lead him to the library.

In the tranquility of the moment, Harry couldn't help but feel blessed. A stark contrast to his life just two years ago, when, on his birthday, he had been burdened with the task of making breakfast for his cousin, Dudley, only to accidentally burn it. That day had been filled with misery, but the arrival of his Hogwarts letter had been a saving grace. Fortunately, he had managed to conceal the contents from his Uncle Vernon, but even then, Harry had struggled to believe that he would ever escape the clutches of the Dursleys.

As Hagrid approached the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, he solidified Harry's profound conviction that he was exceptional. This revelation marked a pivotal moment in Harry's life, as he had long suspected he was not a freak. Since his early years, he had been causing strange accidents, hinting at a unique aspect of his being. Despite reassurances to the contrary, Harry's intuition told him he was special, although the reason remained shrouded in mystery until that fateful day.

In response to Tom's inquiry about his readiness for the evening outing, Harry nervously assented. He trailed behind the man as they made their way from the front of the house onto the grounds. Harry noticed that the man sported a basic white button-up shirt tucked into his trousers, partially covered by a black vest. The dark-colored trousers completed the ensemble of an ordinary-looking wizard, a facade that Harry knew was deceptive.

Before Harry could pose the question of where they were going, Tom stepped in front of him, his wand loosely held in his hand. "I will need to change our appearances," Tom said. "The place we are going is not a place the boy-who-lived can be seen. While I doubt anyone would recognize me, I will not chance that either. Now…relax."

Harry stared at the wand in trepidation, feeling a tingling sensation across his face and down to his toes. In the span of a few seconds, he had grown, and even felt a soft stubble across his face. Tom took a moment to look him over, but shook his head. "It will do. No one will recognize you, now."

With a wave of his own wand, Tom began to transfigure his features into someone older. His cheekbones sharpened, and he had a regal look about him, as his hair shortened and slickened back. The changes were subtle, and his eyes now matched Harry's shade of green, but his skin turned slightly darker, giving him a Mediterranean look.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He looked nothing like himself anymore. He felt taller and more mature, and his face was completely different. Tom had given him a new identity, and he was grateful for it.

With his work complete, Tom nodded in satisfaction, "Come now. Keep your wand close, and don't do anything that will draw attention to yourself. Flip the hood on your cloak up as well. Best not take any chances."

Harry did as he was told, and then felt Tom grab him by the arm, and apparate him away.

(A/N) A little mystery surrounding Harry's birthday outing. If you want to find out where Tom and Harry are heading you can join my Discord page for free by following "The Hunters Lounge", or adding me OrionB15 and asking for a link. OR you can read through chapter 9 and get back to Hogwarts, and see how Harry is adjusting after his Summer of training by following me on Pat(reon) OrionB15.

Cheers everyone, see you in two weeks!