Chapter 18: Don't Shut Me Out

Tom had been having a difficult time adjusting to life at Uncle Morfin's. It wasn't because of his uncle, or the house itself. In fact, he found it was actually nice to spend more time with his uncle, who seemed to enjoy having his nephew around. But to be there without Lily, without James, no longer looking forward to the joys of fatherhood, it was a lot to come to grips with. Tom didn't think the pain would ever stop, not completely. At least he could find comfort in the fact that he was doing everything he could to protect them.

Uncle Morfin had been acting very strangely that morning. He suddenly had a sizable list of errands that needed to be seen to, and had been very adamant that Tom should immediately go into town and take care of them. At the time, Tom had thought that maybe his uncle was worried about him, being able to see the sadness all over his nephew's face and hoped that getting out of the house might help. And it had a bit, at least it had been a distraction. At least it had made Tom feel useful. But as he got to the end of his to do list, Tom had a strange feeling that his uncle may have had some other reason for wanting his nephew out of the way.

The strange feeling grew as Tom approached his uncle's house that afternoon, having completed the errands. It was quiet, which wasn't unusual. Uncle Morfin was a quiet and subdued person by nature. But somehow this silence felt different, like it was somehow shrouded in some dark energy. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on what gave him the desire to do so, Tom slid his wand out of his pocket.

He immediately felt validated in this decision when he approached the door to find it ajar. It was only so slightly, to the point where it had still appeared closed from afar, but was open nonetheless. Tom took a deep breath and pushed open the door, suddenly hyper aware of how loudly the hinges squeaked. And then, wand raised, he stepped into the house.

The house was still. No sounds of movement could be heard from within. Everything seemed to look the same as it was when Tom had left, at least in the small kitchen that served as the home's entrance. He continued onward, passing under the archway that led to the sitting room. Tom's heart sank as he took in the scene. In grave contrast to the first room, this room showed signs of a massive struggle. An armchair had been knocked over backward, the coffee stable was askew, and, most disturbingly of all, the walls were pockmarked with what most would interpret as little burn marks, though Tom knew them to be the remnants of spells that had missed their targets.

"Uncle Morfin?" Tom exclaimed, his heart racing as he began to panic. "Uncle Morf-" He stopped short as he saw that the door to his uncle's bedroom was hanging off its hinges. "No, please no," he whispered to himself as he approached, wand at the ready.

As Tom stepped around the hanging door, his worst fears were realized. There, lying face down on the carpet, was Uncle Morfin. And he wasn't moving.

"Uncle Morfin!" Tom said as he ran to his uncle, trying to flip him over onto his back and feel for a pulse, but it seemed that his uncle's heart had stopped. "Uncle Morfin? Wake up." He shook his uncle, but it did no good.

Tom felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under him. He'd known as well as his uncle did that they were being hunted, of course, but that knowledge had never felt more real than it did in that moment. It was finally obvious to him that Uncle Morfin had known something was wrong and had shooed him away to protect him. And when someone had come for him, he wasn't able to save himself, but he'd at least managed not to allow himself to be taken. For if he had, the Elder Wand surely would have fallen into the clutches of a true evil. But in sparing the world from that fate, his uncle had lost his life.

Tears welled up in Tom's eyes, dripping onto his uncle's still face as he held him. In the few years in which Tom had known his Uncle Morfin, the man had very quickly become an important part of his life. He was Tom's one lifeline to his heritage, had been a kind mentor and friend. No amount of time with him would have been enough, but Tom had had entirely too little. What was he supposed to do now?

"Clear," said a voice from somewhere in the house.

"Clear," said another.

Tom's head snapped up toward his uncle's bedroom door, suddenly alert. Were the attackers back to finish the job? He got to his feet and pointed his wand ahead of him. Whatever happened, he would be ready.

A hand suddenly appeared in the doorway, a wand gripped tightly in its fist. Tom wasted no time.

"Expelliarmus!" he exclaimed, causing the wand to go flying out of the unsuspecting hand, landing across the room. The owner of the hand cried out and quickly retracted its appendage, disappearing out of sight.

"Umbridge, someone's here!" exclaimed the voice of an unknown man. "Just stay where you are!" the voice said, now addressing Tom. "We're officers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You are being ordered to put down your wand and put your hands up!"

Tom relaxed a bit despite the hostility of the orders now being shouted at him. He complied, placing his wand on the floor and putting his hands up in front of him.

"Okay, wand is down, hands are up," Tom declared. "Apologies, I thought you were an intruder-"

"Silence!" cut in the aggressive voice of a woman, who Tom figured must be Umbridge. "Reducto." Tom shielded his face with his arms as his uncle's bedroom door shattered into a million wood splinters. Umbridge rushed into the room with her wand up, her still unarmed partner behind her. She was a fairly short woman with dark hair and a round face, while her partner was a tall, thin man with blonde hair cut close to his scalp. "Accio Yaxley's wand." The man's wand went flying into Umbridge's hand before she handed it back to her partner.

"We are officers Yaxley and Umbridge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the man, who evidently was called Yaxley, reiterated. "Identify yourself."

"I- I'm Tom Potter," Tom said, still a bit put off by the aggression of the officers in the face of his personal tragedy. "I came home from running errands in the village and I found my uncle-"

"Enough," said Umbridge. "You'll answer our questions and then you will remain silent. You have attacked an officer after being found at the scene of the murder."

Tom's mind was reeling, barely able to process what was happening. His uncle was dead. It didn't feel real, and he was in no mental state to be discussing it with anyone. "I- Yes, I do apologize for disarming you, officer. I-"

"What did you do to this man?" Umbridge demanded.

"Wha… What?" Tom stammered.

"Sir, you were found at the scene of the crime with a fresh corpse and immediately attacked the investigating officer who first arrived on the scene. You'd better start talking. I will ask you one more time; What did you do to this man?"

"I- I didn't do anything! He's my uncle, I would never hurt him, I found him-"

"Sir, if you refuse to comply we're going to have to bring you in."

"Bring me in? I had nothing to do with this! Please."

"Have it your way, Sir," Umbridge said with a smirk that did not seem to match the tone of the tragedy of murder. "We're going to need you to come with us."

Tom panicked. Something in the back of his mind told him that complying with this woman was the last thing he should be doing. This wasn't justice. This wasn't the way. Something was off about that woman, and he wasn't going anywhere with her.

"Let's not be hasty here," Tom said slowly as he subtly slid his wand behind his uncle's bed with his foot.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," Yaxley said, finally bothering to chime in.

"A noble goal, to be sure," Tom said. He waited just a heartbeat before moving, knowing he only had one shot at this. As quickly as he could, he dropped to the floor, diving behind the bed as he did so, his knees making contact with the ground so hard that he knew he was going to have deep purple bruises. The officers were already firing off spells, but the bed gave him the cover he needed as he grabbed his wand, took one final look at what was left of his beloved uncle, and apparated away with a loud pop.

Tom created a whole fake identity within a week following his uncle's death. Only two weeks prior, he wouldn't have even known where to begin to accomplish such a thing, but it was amazing what one could figure out from necessity. He'd bought an old abandoned shop in a small town in the middle of nowhere with a small apartment above it where he intended to grow and sell magical plants used in potion making. It was a lonely existence, but he'd managed to sneak a message to Lily with his life updates. He knew the news of his uncle's murder would worry her, and he wanted to ease her mind. Shortly after moving in, he was surprised to receive a letter from Severus. It seemed that Lily had encouraged him to reach out. And though he hadn't signed his name, it was obvious to Tom who it had been from. He reread it often, it being one of his few tethers to his previous life.

I've been assured of your innocence. Though the papers are adamant that you have done the unthinkable, I trust her. And I've long been under the impression that I can trust you. I don't know what happened, why you left, why you hold so many secrets, but I am choosing to continue to trust you now. Do not let me down. I've enclosed notes that I hope you will find helpful. Good luck, my man.

It was short and cryptic, as it was unsafe for it to be anything but, but it had come packaged with a few potion recipes that Severus thought that Tom might find of use. Severus was so adept in potion brewing that he had created his own recipes that were generally more efficient than the officially agreed upon methods. He'd included potions that would aid in the health and growth of his plants, which would greatly help his business. And he'd also included his personal recipe for Polyjuice Potion, which would help him disguise himself as needed. Tom knew that Severus had gone to great lengths to put this together for him, at considerable personal risk. He'd already wept multiple times at the man's kindness.

The newspapers, on the other hand, had only made Tom more and more furious. In the inevitable article covering Uncle Morfin's murder, Tom had been blatantly accused of committing the crime, assaulting an officer, resisting arrest, and being a murderer at large. The knowledge that Lily didn't believe a word of it was heartening. But beyond this, perhaps the most baffling part of all, was that the accusations hadn't stopped there. The papers had made him out to be some kind of evil crime lord set on world domination or something. As much as he tried not to, he kept reading that part of the article to himself, hardly believing what he was seeing no matter how many times he'd read it.

According to intel gathered by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Tom Potter is now going by the name Lord Voldemort, a name created from his given name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. The name seems to have been created by rearranging the letters in his name to reveal the phrase 'I am Lord Voldemort,' a title he used to amass a gang of followers intent on helping him achieve his ultimate goals of rising to power.

Tom shook his head in disgust just thinking about it. It was absurd. Where had anyone gotten such a ridiculous notion that he'd gathered a ragtag team of minions who were aiding him on some quest to world domination? And how long had it taken someone to figure out that letter rearranging trick to create his supposed evil codename? None of it made any sense at all. It just made his life harder, as now he had more people to hide from; whoever was after the Elder Wand, and now the magical government. And now, without even Uncle Morfin for company, Tom had never felt so scared or alone.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice sounded far away. Harry wasn't sure how many times she'd called his name before he finally heard her, but based on her tone it seemed like it had been quite a few.

"Do you think he's having a fit or something?" Ron asked. He'd opted to join them in the Room of Requirement as Harry viewed the next memory, given the gravity of the revelations of the last couple. Of course, Harry had allowed himself to believe that he'd already discovered the bulk of Tom's secrets. How wrong he'd been.

"He's Voldemort," Harry said as he set the journal down on the coffee table.

"Voldemort?" Hermione repeated. "Did you see him? In the memory?"

Harry nodded. "In all the memories," he said. "He's Tom. Tom's him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at his friends before getting up and walking over to the desk. He grabbed a quill and a bit of parchment as Ron and Hermione stood behind him, staring over his shoulder. They watched as he wrote 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE' across the top, and as he wrote 'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT' underneath it, crossing off the letters in Tom's name as he went. Hermione gasped.

"Bloody hell," said Ron.

"Does this mean…? This doesn't make any sense," Hermione stammered. "He loves you and your parents, why would he want to hurt any of you?"

"He doesn't. He never did," said Harry. "He was framed. His uncle was killed, probably by whoever is after the Elder Wand, and they tried to pin the murder on Tom. They made up a story about him being a murderer, about him gathering a group of followers, about him calling himself 'Voldemort,' all of it."

"But, who would do that?" Ron asked.

"The person who's after the Elder Wand would," said Hermione. "They must have used him as a scapegoat to get away with their crimes. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Poor Tom," said Ron. "So then the real Voldemort is whoever's blaming all of their evil deeds on him while they get away with everything?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I can't believe that after all this time, after being told that Voldemort killed my parents, Voldemort has been sending his followers after me year after year, I find out that Voldemort is my father and he's innocent."

"It explains why 'Voldemort' always sent his followers to do his bidding instead of doing things himself. He's hiding behind Tom so he won't get caught," said Hermione.

"Complete coward," said Ron.

"Speaking of cowards, Umbridge was one of the officers on the scene of Uncle Morfin's murder. She must have been a field officer at one point," said Harry.

"That's rotten luck, having to deal with old power hungry toad face when you're going through a crisis."

"And of course she didn't believe him when he tried to explain that he was innocent. I guess being called a liar by Umbridge runs in the family."

"She certainly is incapable of listening to reason," said Hermione. "I'll bet it's easy to get someone else to take the fall for your murder when she's on the case."

"I've got to figure out who the real Voldemort is," said Harry. "Then I can end all this. And then Tom won't have to hide anymore."

"You mean we need to figure out who the real Voldemort is," Ron corrected him.

Harry smiled. "We need to figure out who the real Voldemort is," he agreed.

Harry tried not to let his nerves get the better of him as he headed to Umbridge's office for his first tutoring session. He had no idea how it was going to go, but he was pretty confident that there wouldn't be any actual tutoring involved. It didn't help that the knowledge of Umbridge's involvement in the framing of his father was fresh in Harry's mind. It would take some effort to refrain from lashing out at her, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had promised to comply with her demands, and he certainly didn't want to ruin their deal by doing anything hasty.

Umbridge was ready for him this time around. As Harry knocked on the door, he heard a very chipper Umbridge call out, "Come in!" She was grinning from ear to ear as Harry entered and took a seat, clearly pleased with how things were going. The bigger her smile, the more dread Harry felt in the pit of his stomach. "I've so been looking forward to this. You've been quite the problem child, I'll admit, but I think I've found just the thing to keep your behaviour in check."

Harry swallowed hard. "Is that so?" he asked.

"It is. Why don't you go ahead and drink this?" Umbridge reached behind her and then sat a copper goblet down in front of Harry. Inside was a yellowish liquid, with yellowing smoke to match floating up off the top. Harry was immediately reminded of his student interview, though this didn't seem like any tea he was familiar with.

"No, thanks," Harry said in what he'd meant to be a polite tone, though it came out more disgusted than he'd intended.

"Ah, see, I wasn't offering. I was telling you to drink. The whole thing, if you please."

Harry stared down into the goblet. A few bubbles rose to the top, popping once they'd reached the surface. "What is it?"

"Silly me, I was under the impression that you were willing to do anything to get your little delinquent friends out of the remedial class. My mistake, perhaps we'll have to reinstate it, then?"

Harry glared at Umbridge, but picked up the goblet. His brain was screaming at him not to drink, but he pushed past all of his instincts as he lifted the goblet to his lips and took a sip. The liquid within was warm, and didn't have much of a flavor. If he'd been blindfolded, Harry would have guessed that it was a bit of black tea brewed by someone who didn't know how to properly brew tea. But as it was, he knew it was nothing so innocent.

"Very good," Umbridge said, her smile wide. "Keep going."

Reluctantly, Harry took another sip. He knew that what he was drinking had to be a potion of some sort, but he had no idea which one. As he drank, he tried to see if he could notice any particular effects, but didn't think he was feeling any differently. "Can I ask what we're going to be doing in these tutoring sessions? Besides drinking weird yellow potions," said Harry.

"This is it," said Umbridge. "Just drain your cup and you can go. Not as bad as you thought it was going to be, is it?"

Harry paused mid-sip. "You just want me to drink this? That's it?"

"That's it," Umbridge confirmed.

As pleased as Harry was about the fact that Umbridge didn't have another horrible quill up her sleeve or something, knowing that drinking the potion was the only thing she wanted made him all the more fearful about what the thing actually did. What was he doing to himself?

"I'm going to keep drinking it," Harry said quickly, not wanting Umbridge to get the wrong idea. "But… Could you please tell me what it is?"

Umbridge laughed. "Oh, Mr. Potter. You're not in any position to be asking questions. Drink."

So, Harry drank. And soon enough, he'd drained all of the liquid from the cup. He wasn't sure if he felt any differently, but he was certainly tired as he finally got up and left Umbridge's office. One tutoring session down.

As it happened, the exhaustion Harry felt at the end of his first tutoring session wasn't a coincidence, nor was it entirely due to the exhausting nature of spending time with Umbridge. After Harry explained the confusing nature of the session to his friends, Hermione went to work trying to identify the potion he'd been drinking. They'd determined it was a Weakness Potion, a potion designed to drain the drinker of their strength and energy. And after drinking a full goblet of it every night for the past several days, Harry was really feeling the effects.

Their leading theory stemmed from what Luna said about how Umbridge must really fear Dumbledore's Army, and that's why she was coming down so hard on them. She clearly feared Harry most of all, and was working overtime to discredit him by forcing him into that fake confession, and was now keeping him weak so he wouldn't be much of a threat. Harry still didn't know what her end goal was, but Hermione had pointed out that people like Umbridge just want power, and she was clearly trying to get it by picking on people younger than her. Asserting her dominance over children was the best way for her to feel strong. So, Harry kept drinking the potions and let Umbridge have her power trip. At least no one was getting hurt for once.

The main issue was that it was becoming increasingly difficult to function at a normal level. Harry was exhausted, which made keeping up with his school work a nearly impossible task. And it was affecting his spellcasting as well. His spells were noticeably weaker, and were quite a drain on his energy levels. Even just navigating the castle was a chore. He'd never noticed how big the school was. Though he knew that voicing his complaints to Umbridge would do him no good, Harry really hoped that she would go a bit easier on him soon.

In Potions class, Ron had to keep elbowing Harry to keep him awake. Hermione kept correcting him as he kept accidentally skipping steps or trying to add the wrong ingredients. But he got through it, and finally it was time to pack up and leave.

"Mr. Potter, a word before you go," Uncle Severus said as Harry was about to head out.

Harry sighed, but stayed behind as Ron and Hermione went to wait for him out in the corridor. "You wanted to see me, Uncle?" he said.

"Yes," Uncle Severus confirmed. "I'm… I'm worried about you."

This was a surprise. Harry thought that this was the first time he'd ever heard his uncle say that sentence. "I'm fine," he lied.

Uncle Severus frowned. "You've been keeping things from me. What was that false confession about?"

"Who said it was false?"

"No, don't try that with me, I know you weren't lying about any of that. Why would you say you were? Does it have anything to do with that remedial class you never mentioned to me?"

Harry found himself unable to look his uncle in the eyes. "It's fine, I took care of it."

"And what exactly did you take care of? Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Harry took a deep breath. "You want to know why I didn't tell you? I couldn't. Do you know what would have happened if you'd found out about that class and tried to talk to Umbridge about it? You would have been sacked. You'd be gone. This job is the most important thing in the world to you, how could I let you jeopardize it for my sake? And you getting fired wouldn't have done anybody any good anyway. I never should have involved you in any of this in the first place."

That made Uncle Severus pause, but only for a moment. "Do you know why I wanted to work here, at this school? There are plenty of jobs for a skilled potion maker, but only one where I get the chance to regularly see my nephew." Now it was Harry's turn to be speechless. "Despite what you may think, I do actually care about you."

For some reason, this struck a bit of a cord with Harry. "Since when? Since you became legally liable for my safety and wellbeing?" Hurt flashed in Uncle Severus's eyes, but he didn't deny it. "Well, you don't have to worry. I don't think anyone will blame you for what the headmistress does to me behind closed doors. Merlin knows nobody has ever gone after Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon for anything Voldemort's followers have done to me over the past few years. They don't even know about any of it. I haven't exactly been clueing my guardians in on what's been going on in my life, but I've always managed well enough on my own."

There was sadness in Uncle Severus's voice as he said, "Okay, I'm sorry. I haven't been there for you the way I should have been, but I want that to change. Please don't shut me out."

Harry felt a tightness in his chest as his uncle's words. He felt like he'd been waiting his whole life to hear someone, any of his family members say something like that to him. And in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tell his uncle everything. But he couldn't do that, not yet. "Uncle, I can't let anyone else get hurt on my behalf. I can handle it."

"It's my job to protect you, let me help you."

"I have to handle this myself."

"What is it that you're handling? Tell me what's been going on."

"Uncle, please. People around me keep getting hurt. I shouldn't even be here!"

Uncle Severus was shocked. "What does that mean?"

Harry sighed. "Last year, the tournament. I was meant to get to the cup first, I was supposed to be the one who died," he blurted out. "Cedric should still be here, not me. And now so many students have been terrorized by Umbridge in her conquest to get to me. How many people have to get hurt by the people who want to hurt me instead?"

"That wasn't your fault, none of that was your fault…"

"Maybe not, but it doesn't matter. If I can prevent it from happening again, I have a responsibility to do so. Other people shouldn't be harmed just because I'm someone's target."

"You're a kid, your only responsibility is to get your homework done on time. And speaking of which, your teachers have noticed that you seem to be falling behind in your studies. You're struggling to stay awake in class, there's been a significant dip in the quality of your spell casting. I take it this is also related to something you're not telling me about?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh really? Cast a spell."

"What?"

"Right now. Cast a spell. Unless you can't."

Harry could cast a spell, but he really didn't want to. He'd been using his magic very sparingly, as it really took a toll on his energy reserves. And his uncle was calling his bluff.

"I'm not supposed to do magic outside of class," Harry said.

Uncle Severus gestured around the room. "Well, look where we are. And you've got teacher supervision as well, you're all set."

Harry narrowed his eyelids. He clearly wasn't getting out of this. So, he took his wand out of his pocket and said, "Lumos." The tip of his wand began to glow, even if it wasn't as bright as it usually was.

Uncle Severus exhaled through his nose. "A pathetic attempt at a very basic spell."

"I think I'll leave it to Professor Flitwick to critique my Charms work, if you don't mind. You got your spell, you can see that I'm perfectly fine, can I go now?" Truth be told, this conversation was taking a toll on Harry's dwindling energy supply, and the spell hadn't helped, even if it was just a small one. He wasn't sure how much longer he could handle it, though he tried his best to hide the fact.

Uncle Severus's nostrils flared. "Very well. If you're not going to talk to me, you may go. But I will be following up with your teachers about your performance."

"You do that," said Harry as he turned to go.

"Did you ever speak to your Aunt Petunia with this much sass?" Uncle Severus asked suddenly.

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't dare, not if I wanted to eat dinner that night."