Chapter Text
The Ministry
“Tom it is then, what are your aspirations for the future?”
“I could ask you the same.” The small Gryffindor in front of him looks at him with the greenest eyes that he has ever seen. The eyes of someone that has seen the very curse that they glow with, that same hue, up close and personally. Like an ever brighter flame, endless fields of green life. He can see the endless longing in those eyes, sadness, hope, and there is a burning trickle of warning from the very fiber of his being, screaming out, keep him safe. The song of magic around him is soothing, yet for someone that is so small, so stunted by the failings of Muggles. He is strong and probably doesn’t need whatever limited protections that he could provide.
“I asked you first.” There is a small smile that forms on his face, and again that weird sensation creeps its way into his chest. Warm, warm, wonderful warmth.
“To live.” Tom says and he watches the boy shake his head.
“To live is something foolish to wish for.” Harry gets an almost far-off look on his face, holding onto himself. “Life can be awful, we both know it. It can be starving trapped in a cupboard or an attic. To live forever put you through misery and I can’t imagine wanting to live that way again. To just live is survival and I don’t think either of us really wants that.” Harry laughs bitterly. “It's probably just been what we have been doing.”
“I meant I wish to live with a beating heart, feel things again. I would like to have autonomy of my own, go where I like, see what I like, do what I want when I want it. What I really wish for, Harry is to have freedom. When I was in the diary there was no sound but that of my own thoughts, there was nothing but dark ink, I was drowning, it was an eternity 50 years of it. I just want to live.” His fingers curl tightly into his palms.
“I can understand that.” And Tom does not doubt for a second that the smaller teen means it.
The train rushes down the tracks, the smoke billows from the front of the train lofting into the air. Harry watches it with half-open eyes. Around him his friends are talking about end-of-term results, things that at one time he would have felt obligated to join into the conversation about. All of it though feels almost redundant, unimportant, childish. Harry is starting to have a rather grim vision of the world, reality had come in, stole his childhood, and made him more pessimistic than he would have liked. He can’t really bring himself to care about his grades, not when Riddle thought that perhaps Dumbledore suspected that Harry and himself were connected. It would explain his reaction to his snake. The way that those spectacles looked for other things in the room. Harry can only hope that that connection will not be traced to the conclusion that he has part of Tom’s soul inside of him. His mind is coming to terms with the boy that's sitting across from him. Tom smiles at him, a sharp one that even reaches his eyes as he broadly leans into the corner. Trevor has already had his fun croaking himself to the point of hiccuping because he doesn’t like the way that Tom will poke at him with his shoe if he gets too close, borrowing a little magic to really make sure the toad stays away.
He won’t say anything but he can tell that Riddle is done with being in this train car, if he could Tom would have wandered away, but the tether keeps them in the general vicinity to each other. For how solid the other seems and more independent, Harry can’t understand why the range is still pathetically short. It was as if the universe was ensuring that he would always get an eyeful of Riddle's pretty face. Harry closes his eyes. Things are already becoming too tiring.
They have come to some terms. Tom wants to be completely independent. Any other goal comes second to mending his soul and a resurrection. He isn’t sold on what he is going to do, yet. He thinks the wizarding world is stagnant, dislikes Muggles, and is hellbent on figuring out a good balance of heritage and doing away with the oppression that he faced for being ‘mixed’ or before that less than Mud. The anger there is so potent that something may or may not have set on fire at one point in their conversation. Harry rubs his temples because he can agree with some of it, but the fire in that small shard scares him sometimes because he doesn't think Tom is above murdering, burning, and destroying anything to get what he wants. Something along the lines of ashes couldn’t be corrupted and if one offed enough of the old politician's something might have actually be done to keep more Muggles out and Magical people in check.
Tom’s exhausting and bloody ideas on reform were the least of his worries. He can only spend a few weeks with Hermione before he needs to attend a short Ministry visit as it seemed despite his very vocal complaints about the Dursley’s they somehow thought they still had a claim on him. He wonders what they had to do to keep custody or what hoops needed to be leaped through for the Ministry to consider forcing him to return there when he would literally be happier anywhere else.
What lies had they told themselves? Harry had never been anything but a blight on their perfectly normal lives and now that they truly had the choice to get rid of him they would deny him the small pleasure and curtsey to stay away from him.
He opens his eyes as the cars slow, it looked like a temporary stop even though they weren’t at the station yet. He sighs loudly and Hermione looks over at him and smiles. He tries to match it, but it just doesn’t feel right.
“It's okay.” She loops her arm through his, pulling him closer in a way that had always been comforting but just makes him more tired. “We can’t do anything about the arrangements at the moment Harry, so please don’t worry. I am sure that the courts will rule in your favor to stay with other magical guardians or prenatal figures.”
He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the fact they are considering making a meeting is proof that they were going to try and get him to go back to them. The wards be damned, if he is told to stay he’s going off the grid. Tom has to be half useful in making sure they survive long enough to brute force their way back into magical education. Harry has plenty that he still wants to learn.
“I’m going to use the loo.” He stands up and Tom sighs dramatically following him out of the car. Harry just walks to the very end of the train and then turns around.
“I know you have a liking for that person...” Tom starts.
“If there is a but in that sentence, I recommend you not finish it.” Harry narrows his eyes. “I really am not in the mood to hear your displeasure about her being a Muggleborn.”
Tom held up his hands in mocking surrender. “Fine, but just so you know you were the one that brought up the topic of blood status first.”
“Only to remind you of my stance on it.” Harry’s eyes darken. “I am so very sick of peacocking over something as stupid as blood.”
“And we can agree in that regard that too much emphasis is placed on such things.” Tom reminded them of their discussion. “But the fact remains that we're staying with Muggles.”
“And I told you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger are good people.” Harry hisses. “There isn’t anyone else that I would rather stay with. Ron’s parents are nice but they have this bias against Slytherin that it sinks into everything they talk about that's school-related. All your Death Eaters apparently came from there or other nonsense. And I would almost prefer the Dursleys to being raised by Neville’s Gran. Did you know that she has the second strongest claim on me considering the other is in wizard prison for something they did during the war?”
“I was there for that conversation.” Riddle reminds. “I am simply saying that living with Muggles means no magic.”
“And I am saying we can survive another summer without it.” Harry snapped and a few people that have been watching him hiss at the air, turn in their seats watching him pass by them again.
Tom presses his lips together, just stares at him with those burning eyes, and decides to childishly give him the silent treatment again. Harry rolls his eyes and pets T Jr. The snake giving a low warning hiss at Riddle for making him upset. He circles back, pacing back the distance that he has already traversed as a way to avoid getting back to their car.
Harry takes in another deep breath. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I am just very on edge and you're not helping. I know you're concerned about our safety and the safety of the other Horcruxes. Even if the Grangers are good people it doesn’t mean that everyone will play nice. Especially with the recent activity of Darker Creatures.” Tom tilts his head. “And should we get stuck back at the Dursleys; they will be aware that we can not do magic outside of school.”
Tom’s shoulders dip, “I can’t stay mad at you, it's counterproductive. I was just suggesting that if we can convince someone more magical to take us for a little bit we should be able to create a few more protective enchantments and actually get some research done without the school’s prying eyes.”
He knows that Tom means Dumbledore. It wouldn’t be easy to track down any books needed to give Tom a physical form. Harry isn’t even sure that such a book exists and if it does, how great of an idea it would be to give Tom everything back. He is still unsure about a lot of things, other than it might be good just to give the other a body so that he can give Harry some breathing room. He doesn’t fully trust the person standing next to him, but he is still the better option should anyone find out that Harry literally is an anchor for one of the most feared Wizards of the past century to come back from the dead. It won’t matter if Tom no longer wishes to burn the world in the future nor if Harry wishes to explore unique types of magic. They would kill him or worse.
He has been silent a bit so he attempts to bring the conversation back around. “The ones on our things to make sure they are not stolen, broken, or locked where we can not get them should be sufficient to at least let me do my homework should we get stranded.” Harry nods. “It was pretty brilliant of you to develop some of those.”
He adds praise because stroking Tom’s ego no matter which version is a good way to get him to warm up to near anything.
“I had reason to develop them, Slytherin isn’t kind to those that it sees as Mudbloods or Half-bloods.” Tom sniffs. “If it can keep you from suffering from disgusting Muggle relatives it's the least I can do. You can’t be of use to get my body back if you're uneducated.”
“How generous of you.” Harry smiled, knowing there perhaps was a slightly alternative motive to that. Tom did have some of the other shared memories and he knew that the other promised to take care of him.
“Ah well, I can be a generous person.” Tom strengthened, his arms not as tightly crossed in front of himself. “And it helps that you're easy enough to teach, even with that Gryffindor thick-headedness.”
“And I think I’ll add Humble to your list of grand characteristics.” Harry shook his head.
“And I will add sarcasm to yours.” Tom motioned like a checkmark. “I heard that it's a low form of wit...”
“But a high form of intelligence.” Harry finishes for him. “Perhaps it's why we can get along somewhat.”
Tom’s lips curve upward. “It seems that quote made it over from the last half-century.”
“I think everything else might have changed.” He warns. “I think that music has improved, though I’m not sure that you’re going to like it.”
“There is still the same train going to and from school, there are still cars, the wizarding world seems just as stagnant with the same beliefs system and similar book selection based on what you placed into your trunk, I think I will be fine.” Tom drifted a few paces ahead of him and looked back. “Besides I already have been subjected to some of Voldemort's memories of your horrible singing in that smaller car with the Muggles.”
“I’ll only get better with practice.” Harry smiles at the teen pinching the bridge of his nose thinking about it. “Are you any good at singing? I never thought about it before but I think I remember you humming.”
“I do not sing.” Tom’s voice became stern, signaling that Harry had somehow yet again stumbled on something that the other doesn’t want to talk about. Something that was considerably horrible enough that Harry should not push it into a joke. His posture is defensive, Harry didn’t think anyone else would notice it because it's subtle. The slight tightening of shoulders, smile a little too tight, eyes a little too crinkled at the sides. Harry is so very used to the small changes when all there was to Tom was an outline and eyes, now there are more details to focus on. It unsurprisingly makes him a little easier to read than his previous counterpart.
“Right.” Harry shifts away from that. “I’ll just practice by myself then.”
“You will have the Muggles,” Tom assures sourly.
He feels like heading back is probably in his best interest or his friends are going to come crashing into the halls looking for him. They seemed to truly take keeping tabs on him seriously the last few weeks of school. He didn't think he was ever alone for more than a few hours. He wasn’t even sure how they found him in some of the more obscure places he had sought out for a moment or two with just Tom. His eyes focus on other things and accidentally land on the Slytherins that were huddled in a secluded car. Draco looks up in time to catch his eyes and rather than avoid it like he had been doing in classes, the blond holds it. Draco slowly stands and slips from his seat. He closes the door behind him with a soft click.
Harry scowls as the other makes his way slowly up to him. “Harry.” He greets.
“Malfoy.” Harry greets back.
The other rubs at his arm. “I have something to say.” Harry blinks while waiting for him, as the other set his jaw. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” The blond raises his eyes. “I know I have been a real arse this year…”
“You were?” Harry raises an eyebrow leaning up against one of the train's walls. Tom looks around him at the smaller boy. He seemed to come up with his own conclusions, loosely crossing his arms in front of himself, tapping, waiting for Draco to get on with it.
“My father was just giving me so much grief about making friends with a… Muggleborn, and well you…” Draco gripped at his robe, playing with the nice shiny silver buttons. “I didn’t write because I was scared he would read my letters as he confiscated Hermione’s. He made me feel like I was betraying the wizardkind, my heritage, and I was admittingly a little upset at Ron’s dad for organizing a raid on our house. Mother wouldn’t stop reminding me of my duty as a Malfoy like I was going to defile the name and date Granger or something...”
The or something is said in a way that Harry wondered if the blond had thought about being more than her friend. It added a whole nother layer to their dynamic that he didn’t want to think about.
“You don’t need to finish it, I understand.” Harry reached out and put a hand on the other's shoulder. And perhaps he understood a little too well the pressures that were present because it was what had driven Tom to need to open the chamber of secrets when he was in school, it led to some need to prove himself or something then it came to being of ‘mixed' blood.
“Slytherin is not an evil house, no matter what Ron says. It's an echo chamber of old beliefs and some of them are very old and outdated. Actually probably a detriment to everyone involved.” He adds as an afterthought. “It's not your fault for trying to fit in with your peers or do what your family asked of you. I do hope that we are on the same page, that you don’t have to be a bully or fall in line with them. You can be respectful about breaking off friendships and not showing your support of us.”
“That's why I want to say I’m sorry!” Malfoy blurted. “Merlin this year has been so messed up, Harry. I have been thinking about it since the attacks started… everything. The person responsible really might have killed someone, someone that never did anything wrong… And my Father somehow thought it was a good thing and the same with some of my housemates. I just kept thinking what if it was Hermione and then you got hurt because of it all and if I wrote to him he might even have said you deserved it or something. No one deserves to have to die just because… Because they aren’t from an old-line or didn’t marry into one.”
He wondered just how much swallowing of his pride it took Malfoy to admit that, come to terms that his father wasn’t exactly a good man. He was a Death Eater to start with, the one that placed Tom into Ginny’s cauldron, and probably had all sorts of other messed up objects and secrets on top of that. Harry didn’t even want to think about what it would be like to have to live ‘up’ to that name.
Harry smiled. “You might need to tell other people that. Hermione might just forgive you.”
“That would be a miracle if she did.” Draco shook his head, a weak smile forming on his face. “She’s a crazy witch that one. She threatened to curse me if I ever came near her again.”
“Maybe you should let her curse you, might make your case more pitiable.” Harry lets go of the other. And they both stood there very awkwardly like they had in their first year. “Do you still want to be friends?”
“I’d like to start over, I think.” Malfoy extended his hand.
Tom didn’t seem all that impressed with the display of handshakes. Harry wondered if later the other would be corrected on proper hand positions or something. Tom had been a real bother the first week of his existence talking about appearances and reputations. He wished that he had a bit of a better hold on his fame looking back on it. He still needed to deal with those books that had been written about him that were pure lies. Maybe he would do an overhaul on more than just his Muggle wardrobe this summer; he had grown and was in desperate need of new fitting clothes.
~/*\~
Harry brought the other with him. Hermione blew up calling Draco every name in the book until he properly apologized and offered up some information about what was going on with the Ministry and some of the new restrictions that were coming in regards to interacting with Muggles and Magical Creatures.
“I knew your father was a bloody bastard, but that’s extreme even for him.” Ron shook his head taking another bite from the treats that Malfoy had bought to pacify him. “Seriously, to think, he wants to ban more Muggle technology from our world. My Dad’s going to be even more overworked by this…”
“I was a fan of the walking man,” Neville says sadly.
“Walkman.” Hermione corrects. “And I think that music is something that should be shared by everyone and every culture. Not to mention those poor Werewolves and Vampires.”
“Actually those might be helpful in keeping everyone safer.” Ron disagrees. “I mean Werewolves Hermione, one bite or scratch and you're done for. You will be one forever.”
Neville shivered. “During the war, Gran told me stories how Vold-Voldemort used to send them after people’s children as vengeance.”
Harry’s eyes sweep over to Tom who looks slightly disturbed by the idea, so he figures that isn’t something he was completely aware that his forces were doing or it was another one of those memories that are jumbled and needed something to force him to remember. Tom had 3 sets of memories fighting for headspace, his own, the Ring, and the part deemed Voldemort.
Talk moves into safer waters, back to plans for summer. Draco is insistent that he would write. He would have one of the house-elves sworn to secrecy or something in order to deliver the letters safely. Harry being familiar with a house-elf was a little concerned about meeting another one. Dobby left quite the impression and had been extremely unhelpful all things considered.
~/*\~
The ride to the Granger’s was nice. Harry let Hermione take the lead on how much she actually wanted to tell her parents about the past school year. They weren’t as upset about Harry lying to them last summer as he would have expected, they were more confused as to why the ministry hadn’t got involved sooner.
“Because they are terrible at running a country,” Tom muttered and Harry couldn’t help but agree.
He sets himself up in the guest bedroom and asks Mr. Granger about teaching him to ride a bike. He still thinks that it's a good idea should he not have a broom and he needed to move faster somewhere than just walking or running away. He wonders if that red bike is still functional because that’s what he is planning to use if he needs to make a speedy escape from the Dursleys. One reparo charm if necessary to get the bike in order and a shrinking one and he could fit everything into a backpack.
~/*\~
“When you are older, 15 is the legal age to be alone, get yourself a small place to rent that’s near Magic.”
Tom leaned against the wall. There has been nothing to do here for the past week. Tom feels his brain rotting, well it's been rotting since he has been forced to follow children around, but it seemed this version of Hell wasn’t even something that Voldemort himself could escape from with over nearly half a century's worth of knowledge to draw from.
“Traces.” Harry doesn’t look up from his charms book. “You know that they made it a rule now that the trace stays on till 17.”
“That’s complete meshugaas* !” Tom throws his hands up as Harry actually snorts.
“Is that an old-timey way of saying bullshit?” He raises an eyebrow.
“It’s not old-fashioned.” Tom hisses. “It’s just madness. They think you're helpless up to 17 now. 15 is perfectly reasonable to set off and start working or at least start being independent. I did it.”
“Tom.” Harry rolls onto his back, “You know in some places legally you're not an adult till 18 and can't drink till 21. You can join the military younger, 16, I considered it an option at one point to get away from the Dursleys before I was told I was magic.”
“Of course, the draft stayed the same age, never too young to send children to war.” He can’t help but get angry about that one. He was a lot angrier because of Ring and possibly even Voldemort. The insanity lingered with those few bits, and perhaps even in himself.
“We’ll be fine.” Harry turned his head towards him. “I plan on getting lost in Diagon Alley and elsewhere to look for the books we will need. The trace will just make them feel safer, it's not like they can stop us from practicing magic while we’re at school.”
Tom takes a deep breath. Harry was rather calm about these things all things considered. “There are a few hidden places easy to reach for us as good options.” He can agree.
Harry closes his emerald eyes, the scar that marks him and their connection stand out against his pale flesh. Harry has been growing his hair longer, nearing his shoulders. His glasses are still on his face so he isn’t going to sleep yet. The sleeping situation is still awkward. Tom is more solid and prefers not to be on the dirty ground even if he is unable to feel it. Usually, this resulted in him spending his nights in a chair but there isn’t one here. He isn’t staying up all night either there isn’t a thing for him to be doing and blacking out is better than just sitting idle.
He scowls.
“I can feel your eyes.” Harry creaked one of his eyes open. “A knut for your thoughts.”
“We both know my thoughts are worth more than that.”
“So sorry Mr. Humble, would you rather have a Sickle?” Harry’s voice grew far softer as he sounded tired.
“Perhaps a galleon.” Tom moved onto the bed, perching at the edge of it.
“I’ll give you one if it's a good idea,” Harry muttered. “But we both know that most of your previous ones have been pretty horrible.”
“I did make it so that Dumbledore didn’t question where you were or try to destroy us.” Tom pointed out because he really did deserve better praise for that action.
“It was only a problem because you tried to kill me. If you had mended quietly like was originally planned we wouldn’t have needed an excuse.” Harry rebuttals.
“I don’t think that you will ever let that go. You did manage to forgive my other shard.” Tom is amused by the other, he didn’t think he would have felt anything even with the other's memories but Harry, is something rather special and Tom rather likes special things. None would look at him like Harry does, none would ever question him, or proud him the way that the 12-year-old does.
“Partially forgave him.” Harry doesn’t elaborate on what he has not forgiven. “I do think you are holding onto a gold piece worthy question.”
“I want to understand something, but I think I will hold off on it. You look like you're going to pass out and it can wait.”
Harry's small hum turned to a grunt at the end. “Good night then.”
Well, he laid at the end of the bed, putting his feet towards the front of the bed, rigidly laying on his back. It's not like he has muscles that can get sore. He stares at the ceiling feeling incredibly uncomfortable in a completely different way.
~/*\~
Harry listened to the music cranked up loud and let it take him to different and better places. Hermione let him borrow some CDs so he could lay in bed and listen. Tom leaned close enough to listen as well, having reluctantly admitted that some of the newer music was fascinating. Harry thinks it's because it has words, Tom's more used to pureblood’s type where it's just endless classical or slow songs. The ’80s and early ’90s were bringing about more rock music that spoke to something inside of Harry. The words, just conjured images in his head. And he could spend forever looking at the ceiling imagining himself in better places, a better life. Flying high into the endless sky, climbing impossible heights, traveling to places untouched.
Hermione laid unknowingly at the other side of him listening with her head against his. Her eyes closed and probably doing similar things to him. It's too hot to do much else. Harry had been doing his homework in the mornings for a few days now, Tom playing an important cheating role in getting it done faster than before. It wasn’t like being told all the answers, just having someone to expand on it that had researched more extensively the topics. It leaves more time for Harry to spend doing whatever he could with the freedom that staying with the Grangers would allow. He stocks up on food that he can easily hide, small snacks that can help him at the Dursleys or on the run.
“We should go to the pool tomorrow.” Hermione sits up, her hair tickles his arm. “Regardless of how hot it is.”
“You say that now, but it's going to be 37C tomorrow.” Harry looked up at her smiling face.
“Even if it is that warm it would beat sitting in the stuffy house, it feels humid up here and it's doing nothing for my hair.”
“If it makes you feel better, mine is not much better.” Harry gives a noncommittal diplomatic answer.
“It's getting long enough to braid.” She runs a hand through it.
“I doubt that it would stay in anything you tried to fix it into.” Harry relaxes into the soft touch, Hermione being the only one to ever do anything like this for him. Tom would have complained if he wasn’t sleeping, his hair covering his eyes, but his stillness is enough to draw the conclusion, he was curled into himself in a way that made it hard not to look at the other boy. Harry didn’t think he had ever seen him so peaceful.
“I might be able to tame it with enough pins like mine.” She detangles a knot for him.
“You're welcome to try.” Harry shuts his eyes as the nice guitar rift takes his mind off everything.
He shouldn’t have agreed to it because Hermione at that point is determined to see if she can make it into anything. He just lets her and then returns the favor. They end up playing cards with matching horrible hair between them. The only problem was Harry’s horrid hair translated also to his cards.
“I will win again.” Hermione slaps the cards down, startling Tom awake and he nearly falls off the bed. Harry snorts and Hermione beams. “Do you want to play another round?”
“Sure I don’t mind losing one or two more.” Harry held the deck closer to himself, this time he would be the one that shuffled. He didn’t think Hermione would do it, but those hands had just been too perfect.
She shoves him lightly. “That's the spirit.”
~/*\~
The Ministry’s lobby stands before Harry as a towering building that by all extents and purposes is invisible to every Muggle that is passing it by from the outside, and even if they had managed to get inside wouldn’t have been able to make it past security. It is with special passes that the Grangers are able to see the place, even though they are Hermione’s parents and should be with the minors in their care. Harry can sense the annoyance that some of the wizards that pass them have. They, like Tom, had already deemed them less. Still, there is a chill in the air, like he has walked through a ghost, or he has been dunked in the lake.
It can not be his nerves, because Tom shifts closer to him, not liking the magic that he can feel coming from it. Harry feels it too. There is something very sick in the air around it. It makes the hair on his arms raise and he takes a shaky breath as he pushes forward with their guide Mr. Weasely.
“Come now Harry, don't be nervous.” Mr. Weasley says like he knows everything is going to turn out fine, his hand strong against his back to encourage him forward into the elevator. Hermione grabbed onto his hand and he felt calmed by her gesture and able to take the first few important steps forward, each one bringing that horrible feeling fresh and into the forefront of his senses.
~/*\~
Poison the magical energy screamed, corrupted, unsafe…
Tom’s skin rippled with it. He can feel the wards, thick protective enchantments, and yet that horrid magic drips from the walls. He is used to Dark Magic, he has practiced it, lost it, but this has something to it. Something that even he doesn’t like. He grips hard onto Harry, he knows that passing part of himself into Harry is generally not a wanted advance but he doesn't want to be torn away from the other, he can’t go back to the book, he would hide in a corner of Harry’s mind if he needed, but he wasn’t going to be banished.
The halls are polished black tile, everything shines brightly, there are great green fires that burn brightly because of floo travel. The large statues in the center depict a mermaid and a centaur with a wizard standing in the foreground not too far ahead of them. Merlin and the many plaques show unity between Muggles, Magical people, and Creatures that he knows far too well does not exist. They plunge deeper into the palace passing the Department of Mysteries where the stench of powerful enchantments makes his head spin and if he had the ability he would probably have vomited. Harry holds on to the tip of his fingers by acting like he is touching his neck.
By the time they made small offices marked by Magical Child Protective Services and Registration. Harry is shaking something horrible and Mrs. Granger probably is the only reason that Harry hasn’t passed out. It is at the edge of the small space that Tom meets the gaze briefly of Albus Dumbledore as if he can see him, at the old man's side is a shrewd woman, who has her arms folded tightly in front of a Muggle woman's suit coat. Mrs. Granger’s looks at the other are anything but friendly. She holds onto her own daughter and Harry as if they both are her own. He feels a ping of something in his chest, perhaps while magically useless, she was not completely worthless. She obviously wished for one of the same things as Tom.
“Hello.” A woman dressed in fine robes greeted. “My name is Hela Williams. I am here to schedule a supervised meeting between the guardians of Harry Jame Potter.”
Harry’s eyes danced over to Petunia and the woman smiled, so forced that Tom wanted to curse her. Her face reminded him far too much of Cole.
A small child moves slowly, toddling on short legs, reaching for the dress of a woman that kicks him out of the way. The child falls crying loudly but is ignored. They slowly pick themselves up sniffing, rubbing the snot from his face, small cheek dirty and caked with mud. Eyes look up at the woman that picks up another child that smiles and screams excited fat arms reaching out and she smiles happily, looking down at the boy again with nothing but contempt.
He would kill her if she ever does more than breathe in Harry’s direction as he is remembering far too much what she did to the child that Voldermort had dedicated himself to protecting. Yes, it's because of the other that he feels this ache in his chest, the throb where his soul was.
Introductions were short, they all entered the small meeting room and it all started to unfold. Dumbledore’s letter, leaving him with the Dursleys, Petunia's guilt over the mistreatment of Harry blaming it on her husband that she has divorced from and kicked out of the home. She isn’t the best actor, but she does her best to sound like a truly abused housewife, and while Vernon was a cheater based on the memories he holds. Petunia had been one to beat Harry and is the reason that there are burn scars. Dumbledore does his best to add in the benefits of the protective spells, the things that have happened at Hogwarts, the signs of darker forces, and most importantly the negative influence that Vernon had on everyone in the household. He also dares to put emphasis on Petunia being the only family that Harry has.
And that is when Harry snaps. His hair rises, slowly becoming more spiked, the air around him becomes charged and impossible for the more magically inclined to not feel. Hermione grabs onto him trying to steady him. But Harry ignores her.
“I don’t forgive you,” Harry says darkly, so unlike himself that everyone else stares at him. Scared, and Tom smiles, despite it all. “You locked me in the cupboard under the stairs, you starved me, burned me, and humiliated me.”
Tom feels his heart swell at that moment, feels the whole room shakes, he can’t tell if his own small magical core is also being borrowed from or if it really was all Harry. But truly it was breathtaking, objects float by and Harry grips harder onto himself. The safest place for our soul. And it would be, Tom knows in a few years Harry will have progressed well to the point he had been at when he was younger and had a body. He just needed practice training and he would truly be Tom’s equal.
“At any point, you could have said no to your Husband beating me, you could have understood that it's not my fault that things happen around me. You KNEW I couldn’t help it. My mother died and you told me that it was my fault!”
The glass to the cabinets behind Hela shattered, bathing them all in glass. “Don’t pretend to care about me now… now that I finally want to get away from you.”
The silence after is the most telling. The most horrifying.
“I know it will take time, these things take time.” Petunia says so sickeningly kind, that Tom wanted to rip her tongue out. “I am not asking you to forgive me, just allow me to be better. You lost your mother that night, but I also lost a sister. I had been fighting with her about getting involved in a war, mixing with Wizards when they were out to kill any that had our roots. To break off the marriage to James because he was promising to help defeat … HIM She said she cared never to see me again and He killed her, blew her up, and you were left on my doorstep 2 years later, not a single word from my sister that she planned to leave you with me. I shouldn’t have been afraid that Magic would take you from me too, I thought if I tried hard enough it wouldn't. It's not an excuse, but I want to start over, please let me. Vernon can no longer hurt you, and I will never stand by passively again.”
And if that wasn’t the key needed to win over the ministry official. She and the others bought the lies or they had never planned to take this seriously, perhaps they didn't believe Harry, thought he would be the sort to exaggerate, or Dumbledore pulled strings as he offered to have weekly visits and to be very active in making sure that Petunia continued to make good on her promises to get better. They ruled in favor of regular visits, check-ins, and for Petunia to have trial custody. It was by that verdict and the way that Harry ducked his head that Tom could not tell if regretted more and more about the not strong enough Anti-Muggle laws that said they were not as fit to raise witches and wizards. Or if he hated that they somehow trusted Dumbledore’s judgemental call because they didn’t think Muggles were all that dangerous and could not have abused a Magical child so greatly.
Regardless of the reason, Tom shook with rage, his magical flares hardly contained from hurting the people around them.
“We will appeal it.” Mrs. Granger told him as they headed back to the car, Harry would be able to finish out the week with them. “They will not be able to get away with this. And if we can’t change the ministry's mind we will take them to court through the Muggle means.
“Thank you…” Harry says softly and Tom wished he had a body to take him away, far away. Next summer, he needed a body by next Summer. He put his fingers to his mouth in thought. Harry looked at him and Tom leaned into him best he could. Perhaps not everything was lost with being forced to return to Petunia. Maybe he could use this to help Harry understand truly why the Ministry was in need of revision and that Voldemort was onto something by destroying it. This time around perhaps he could do it from the inside out.