Chapter Text
Harry had been so excited to start school: a whole day out of the house doing no chores, learning new things, and maybe even making friends!
He should have known better.
That night, he bitterly curled up around the fresh bruises painting his ribs. Sweating in the stifling cupboard, Harry wasn’t sure why he ever thought things might change for him. In class, his stained and oversized clothes had made him an immediate target for mockery, and Dudley's built in friends from the neighborhood were delighted to find their favorite victim so accessible. The teacher already thought he was a troublemaker after the group ganged up on him at recess, and her phone call home to Aunt Petunia only cemented Harry going to bed without dinner.
As he fell asleep, Harry resigned himself to the next day being just as miserable, and the last spark of hope in his chest flickered out. Harry’s oldest nightmare kept him tossing fitfully through the night, haunted by screams and green light.
“Hi. My name is Tom.”
At recess the next day, Harry wondered whether he was still dreaming.
It had been a difficult morning in class, in which Harry could tell he already was falling behind, struggling much more than his classmates when copying the letters from the board. It wasn’t helped by Dudley poking him and kicking his chair relentlessly, but Harry knew better than to try to ask Ms. Michelle for help, given the way her eyes and lips already narrowed when looking at him. When they were let out to the yard for break, Harry thought he found a safe refuge behind some bushes at the fence line and squatted down, waiting to hear the teacher call them back inside.
He blinked up at the boy who was still standing in front of him with an outstretched hand, lips now pursed with impatience. Tentatively, he reached out to shake it, and startled when Tom grasped his firmly and yanked him up. Harry stumbled forwards into him, catching himself on the other boy’s shoulders and smearing dirt on his white t-shirt.
“I’m sorry!” Harry blurted out, feeling his cheeks heat. Tom was taller than him, with bright, well-fitting clothes, dark wavy hair, and large brown eyes, framed by long lashes. He was as pretty as someone on a TV show, and Harry felt even uglier and more freakish than usual as the other boy looked him up and down.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Why were you hiding in the bushes?”
“I wasn’t hiding!” Harry protested, then immediately regretted it. Here was someone who was actually talking to him, and not even being mean yet, and he was already messing things up. No wonder nobody wanted to be his friend. “I mean… I just, I didn’t want to run into my cousin.” He winced; this was even worse. Dudley was already popular in class, bragging about the trampoline he’d gotten for his birthday, and the other kids all wanted invites over. Tom would want to talk to him even less if he knew that Dudley didn’t like him, since he clearly didn’t realize it yet.
“That’s not surprising. I saw him bullying you yesterday. Did his parents punish him?” Harry frowned, bewildered by his response. “Never mind. You’re Harry, right? I want to be your friend.”
“Really?! Why? I mean, thank you!” Harry subtly pinched his arm, just to make sure he really wasn't dreaming.
“I talked with my dad about what happened to you when I got home yesterday, and he was very upset, and said it sounded like you could use a friend. I thought it might happen on its own as the school year passed. But it would be hard to make friends with you if you spent your time hiding in the bushes.” Tom spoke in a strange, matter-of-fact tone, more similar to a grown-up than their other Year 1 classmates, which sounded funny in his high-pitched voice. Harry was definitely not going to offend his first possible friend by giggling at him, though.
“Thank you, I’d like to be your friend too!” Harry awkwardly reached out and shook Tom’s hand, not knowing how you were supposed to act when making a friend, but knowing that adults used the gesture to “seal the deal”, as Uncle Vernon said. “Why was he so upset though? You’d never talked to me before, and he’s never even met me.” Tom frowned.
“It’s offensive and degrading for a child like you to be attacked and defeated by muggles. Especially for the adults to permit it. My dad didn’t even believe me at first when I told him.”
“What does muggle mean? It’s not nice to use mean words for people.” Harry felt a funny warm feeling inside when Tom sounded upset on his behalf, but didn’t want his first friend to be a bully. He knew that he wanted to be a nicer person than Dudley, and not make anyone else feel the same way he did when they called him names.
Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“It’s not a mean word. It describes people who don’t have magic, not like you.”
Harry’s heart pounded, and blood roared in his ears. He felt a mix of terror and rage that Dudley had spread word of his freakishness, when that was the one thing he was never supposed to mention around other people. A painful jolt of betrayal shot through Harry at the realization that this boy had been playing a cruel trick on him, building up his hopes for friendship just to gleefully stomp them down.
“I DON’T have magic! I’m NOT a freak!” He shoved Tom away from him, feeling a flash of guilt as the unprepared boy toppled back onto the ground, and ran to the bathroom. He rushed to the very back and his stall door slammed shut behind him on its own, and Harry burst into tears at the undeniable proof of his freakishness. He sat on the toilet seat and sobbed.
Several minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and Harry’s stomach sunk at the sound of familiar heavy footsteps that weren’t alone.
“Haaa-rry,” Dudley called out in a sing-song. “Come play with us!” He shivered, tucking his feet beneath him on the seat, crossing his fingers and hoping they hadn’t seen him come in.
The footsteps approached, and the shiny red sneakers stopped right in front of his stall. Three knocks sounded. “Little pig, little pig, let me in!” The flimsy plastic lock gave way and Harry’s stall door slammed open when Dudley pounded it with his full weight, and he couldn’t contain the small yelp of fright at the loud noise and sudden reveal of his cousin. The other boy gave a hungry smile, and stepped forward-
“I don’t think you’re the one who should be calling anyone a pig.” Tom’s voice rang out cooly through the bathroom, and Harry heard gasps. Dudley turned red and left Harry’s stall with a sneer, looking to the posh boy.
“Scuse me?”
“Excuse yourself. Cornering someone in a bathroom is unfair, and inappropriate. I’ll tell Ms. Michelle. Harry, come over here.” Slightly dazed, not believing his luck, he walked over to Tom, slipping past Dudley. Piers and Dennis moved to block the door in front of them, and Tom crossed his arms, staring them down unflinchingly.
“So what? She can’t do anything to us, she’s just a teacher.” Dudley regained his bravado and joined his friends, puffing out his chest like Uncle Vernon. “I’m not scared of you or her.”
Tom narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, ignoring Harry tugging back his hem. Tom didn’t seem like someone who had been in a fight before, and Dudley and his gang were pros at roughing someone up in a way that didn’t leave marks after Mrs. Figg kept complaining. Harry had too often been pinned down and smothered, had his limbs twisted agonizingly, had four boys each pull him by a different appendage and compete to see who could make him hurt the most (that one, at least, had stopped after Harry’s shoulder was dislocated). He was deeply grateful to Tom for defending him, but couldn’t let him be subjected to what Harry knew was coming. Tom ignored his silent pleas to stop, though.
“That may be true. She can’t do anything to you, and neither can I.” He paused, and despite the fear he felt, Harry was a bit starstruck by the beautiful boy and the quiet power in his words. It felt almost like a movie. “But you know who can? My father.”
The three boys flinched back at the threat that was almost spat at them, and Harry thought they were about to be able to escape. Dudley rarely backed down from a challenge though, and barked out a laugh, far meaner than a six year old had the right to be.
“Yeah, well your father doesn’t scare me, my father can probably beat his arse. Too bad Harry doesn’t have one to protect him.” He gave a nasty grin, knowing how painful Harry’s open wound always was when jabbed. “No fathers here now, anyway.”
Tom’s fists clenched, and he shoved his hand deep into the pocket of his neat dark shorts. Harry had the wild thought that he was like one of the mad men on the news, and about to pull out a knife. When his hand emerged, it was even more terrifying: a bright green snake coiled around his wrist, less than 2 feet long but hissing furiously at the boys in front of them and baring large, very sharp teeth.
Dennis shrieked and immediately ran from the bathroom, Piers and Dudley hot on his heels. Harry watched them flee with astonishment, still frightened but seeing that Tom seemed to have control of the snake. He turned and smiled at Harry, then lifted the snake dangerously close to his face, and cupped his other hand over his mouth to… whisper to the snake? Harry politely pretended that he couldn’t hear the other boy tell it to wait in the tree outside of school until he was out later, and was incredibly impressed when it slithered down his leg and out the door. Harry knew people trained dogs to do lots of tricks, but had no idea that you could do the same with snakes.
“They’re going to get you in trouble,” Harry warned, worried about how relaxed and satisfied Tom looked.
“How? Nobody’s going to believe them, if we both say that they’re lying.” Harry’s eyes widened. He had long-since learned that the consequences for being caught in a lie were far worse than any benefit he ever could hope to gain, and never even considered it as an option for himself anymore. “We’re friends, right, Harry? If you protect me, I’ll protect you.” Harry’s heart beat faster.
“Okay,” he said, still in disbelief that the other boy had come back and helped him. “I’m really sorry for pushing you earlier, I didn’t mean for you to fall. I just… I’m not a freak, no matter what Dudley told people.” He felt bad for hiding it from Tom, but didn’t want to let his one chance at friendship slip away.
“It’s alright, Harry, but…” Tom chewed his lip, looking at Harry hesitatingly. “Have you ever made something happen that others can’t? Setting fires, or moving things without touching them, or changing someone’s mi–”
“No! I haven’t! I told you, he’s LYING.” Harry glared at Tom and clenched his fists hard to hide their trembling. “I can’t do anything like that at all.”
Tom’s face scrunched hard, then relaxed. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“What?” Tom scowled at Harry.
“I’m sorry for upsetting you. We can talk about something else. Do you forgive me?” Harry blinked.
“I… yeah, of course, it’s fine. I’m sorry for getting upset, it was stupid.” Tom nodded solemnly.
“No apology needed. Let’s go sit outside. What is your favorite animal?”
“-and he said it was a snake! But that might have been because he already guessed mine was too, after seeing Hydra. He looked very pleased when I agreed.” By all appearances, the dark-haired man across the dining table was utterly disinterested in the small child he sat with, but Tom knew his father very well. He had paid more attention to Tom’s words in the last two days since starting school than he had in his entire life until now, and was carefully analyzing each and every one now as Tom recounted the earlier events. Tom tried his best to speak thoughtfully and properly, the way he’d been taught, but couldn’t help but bubble over with the excitement from the biggest day of his life so far.
“I am not happy that you revealed her presence on only your second day of class. You knew that she was only to be used in an emergency.”
“It was! His cousin hurts him, Father, it wasn’t just the one time yesterday. He’s honestly afraid of the boy. There were three of them and two of us and we were trapped inside, I didn’t know what else to do.” His father frowned.
“And you’re completely sure that he’s aware he has magic? Actually, are you sure that he even does at all? It’s unlikely, but it’s always possible he could be like you.” Tom ignored the way his stomach hurt at the reminder.
“I still might have magic develop later,” he muttered at the floor, though he knew his father had been floating over toys from other cribs by age 2, and compelling the children around him by 5. Tom’s father was disappointed that he was likely a squib, but accepted the fact, as it didn’t badly interfere with Tom’s ultimate purpose. “Harry definitely does already, though, but he’s scared of it. He really did not want me to know.”
“That is quite fascinating. Though, I suppose we already know first-hand just how much Dumbledore cares for the well-being of his prophecy children,” he said with a cruel smirk, raising his head to look Tom in the eyes for the first time during the meal.
Tom shifted in his seat, uncomfortable as he always was when his father alluded to the circumstances of his creation. He knew that it wasn’t his fault that he had been strong enough to wrench sovereignty of the infant body he was placed in when his father split his soul, knew that the little boy had been doomed from the start anyways, but he still felt a sense of guilt about the situation that he’d only once tried to explain to his father. Sometimes, Tom wondered whether he really had completely destroyed the other child or not, and speculated(or maybe hoped) that their souls had blended together in some way. After all, his father never felt remorse or sympathy for others, and Tom felt that if he truly was only a split fragment of the man, he’d be the same.
“I am proud of you. You have done well.” Tom knew there probably wasn’t much genuine sentiment behind the words, recognizing the positive reinforcement his father regularly doled out as an effective parenting technique (one he had explained to Tom in detail, after devouring a book on operant conditioning in toddlers), but the praise still warmed him. He appreciated that his father made sure to meet all of his needs and put effort into raising him to be successful, despite not loving him the way most parents would. He knew it was with a self-serving purpose, but he still was happy to have a comfortable life, especially knowing how much better it was than the childhood his father had told him about. Tom was happy to already be accomplishing his purpose, so soon after first getting the chance to.
He thanked his father for the compliment, and they finished eating in silence, Tom clearing the table and loading the dishwasher afterwards. He paused before heading to his room for his nightly reading.
“Father? Are we going to help Harry?” The man looked up from the news he watched for exactly 90 minutes each evening.
“Help Harry? How do you mean?” A small smile twitched across his mouth, and Tom worried. It wasn’t one of his nice smiles.
“I mean, I’m meant to be his friend, and become his most trusted person, right? Then we can take him away from the muggles that are treating him so poorly.” His father’s smile widened.
“Very good, Tom, that’s right. As long as you do well, I promise that Harry won’t be living with the muggles for long.” Tom knew his father liked to play twisty word games, and didn’t like how his eyes sparkled as he spoke. He knew there was no chance of finding out more about his plans until he decided to tell him, though, and headed upstairs.
Thinking back on the day, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Harry was awkward, and scruffy, and pretty uneducated, but something about the gangly boy made it impossible for Tom to look away from him. He was glad he’d already had the opportunity to prove himself valuable to the other, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way those green eyes had shined when he defended him. He could tell that Harry would have the most important trait in any relationship, according to his father: loyalty.
Thrilled at his fast progress so far, Tom snuggled into his covers, and hoped that Harry was feeling comfy and cozy in his bed too. He couldn’t wait for another day with his destined best friend.