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Chapter Text

Harry bit back a smile as he looked around and saw that Death had successfully placed him where he had asked. A jitter of excitement rippled through his spine, something that hasn't happened in the decades of his young immortality. He could feel where the hallows were, calling out to him softly by pulling at his magic like that of a small child tugging on their parent's sleeve. He wondered if he should retrieve them. But then again he'd have to go through the trouble of going after Dumbledore's lover, stealing from the Potter vaults, and hunting down the Gaunt ring as well. He did wonder if he could simply summon them, but dismissed it. It would be too easy. And would go against the main reason for this little time trip he had. That reason being insane boredom.

He quickly cast a notice-me-not spell and walked around Diagon Alley. It was refreshing to see the same shops but at it's finer and younger state.  The last time Harry went to here was to have lunch with Ron instead of dining at the redhead's place like usual. It was the day before he died from heart failure the night later. It didn't bring Harry as much sadness as he thought it would, but being the master of death gave him a thorough understanding of the inevitable end. Plus it helped that the stone gave Harry the power to let Ron say his proper goodbyes to Hermione and his kids who were all devastated with his death. Except for Harry. He didn't grieve and could not bring himself to. Not when he knew it was Ron's time. They were old. All of them were. It was already set in stone. Ron had lived a full life of a hundred and thirty, working as an auror then moving up to Head Auror before finally retiring from old age.

Both Ron and Hermione knew he stopped aging after the war. But he still wore a glamour in front of them just to feel normal. He never took off his glamour outside the privacy of Grimmauld Place, although Luna did reveal to him when she was on her deathbed that she was never fooled. She had always seen him, the real immortal youth he was trying to hide. And it was one of the first times Harry found himself wanting to cry for her loss. He knew it was coming, but it felt different when revealed something like that. He had asked her why she never told him. And she smilingly countered by telling him, "You wanted to hide it Harry. So I let you."

Harry shook his head with a small rueful smile. He didn't travel all the way to another dimension to think about the past. He was on a mission. Spending decades and decades after everyone he ever loved died had made him yearn for something. But Death argued by telling him, that it was someone, not something.

"You seek for a companion in your unwanted immortality," Death told him.

"I've long given up on that," Harry replied defensively, "I'm just insanely bored now. The world of magic is dying. Even before I faked my death, they refused to listen. Now there's nothing to do but watch them dwindle into extinction while the muggles advance far beyond anyone's imagination. There's not much to do anymore."

"There is always something to do."

"There's nothing that interests me. You won't let me relinquish this title, so I'm stuck with this endless loop of eternity, watching humans, both wizard and muggle, do the same thing over and over again. Sure it's fascinating to see what wizards are doing nowadays with their new hidden community in the magical space the last few generations have dedicated their lives into making, and to watch muggles declare war on one another with their advanced artillery and nuclear technology. It's still not enough. I've spent my time studying every branch of magic there is. I even tracked down the Flamels for their knowledge in hopes finding something to keep me grounded."

"The one to keep you grounded is already dead," Death informed him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your soul is yearning. Yearning for someone that I've already collected."

"And you're telling me this now because..."

"You never asked. And the subject never came up. It's not my business to decide what you do and what you feel. It is only that you stay sane and whole while I anchor Death to you is important."

"You're a selfish bastard," Harry told him, already used to Death and his sense of humor. He already knew Death didn’t do anything to help him. He didn’t go out of his way to look after him. Merely responded when asked but other than that, Death was a busy entity that occasionally dropped by to troll him. "Anyway, so you were talking about something like my soulmate yes? I thought that was just a pile of romantic rubbish."

"Master, you must not dismiss things that involve the soul so easily. No matter how ridiculous it sounds. Many wizards dismissed the Hallows as such and look what a mess it made with your life," Death smirked, "And yes, soulmates are real. Would you have a guess as to who was yours?"

Harry pursed his lips, twirling the elder wand absently, "I...no...I don't have a clue. Are they in the line of souls to be reborn? I know the magical population is dying but the line shouldn't be that long seeing as how some of them have surely chosen peace rather than rebirth."

"I'm afraid that your destined one is...not in line, nor are they in peace. You could say that the soul doesn't exist anymore. Well, not in this time that is," Death explained.

"What do you mean? Where are they then?" Harry was aware that there were multiple worlds in parallel timlines other than the one he was in. This was just the one where he became Master of Death first, therefore claiming the title over every other world and locking the mastery to his singular existence. No other Harry would ever have the same title.

"Dead. With no chance for peace. You as well as the rest of the Light have cursed your soulmate to never again exist. The soul was barely one when I collected it."

Harry stared at the tall floating ethereal dark being with wide eyes, his brain connecting the dots until he came to the shocking conclusion of his soulmate's identity. "You mean...But--How? The prophecy--"

"Was correct. But was interpreted differently. And the man was in a sad state of insanity. Have you never wondered how you became his hocrux when it should not be possible? No human could become one, without the host dying almost immediately. But you were soulmates, a pair, and your soul recognized his and allowed it to dwell within you."

Least to say that Harry had spent a few years throwing something like a tantrum as he denied and tried to ignore the information he received. A few muggle nuclear weapons had gone off disastrously while Harry raged and caused chaos and destruction.

Harry shook his head out of the memory as he went straight to Gringotts. He secured the Peverell lordship as Harreth Evans Peverell to the shocked faces of the goblins who stood gawking at him after he said that he is the Master of Death, something Death had advised him to do so as not to complicate matters since the Peverell line was a very important part of the old pureblood families.

"How is it that the test said I'm a pureblood. Did you change my blood lineage as well?" He asked as he signed the necessary documents needed, while adding the specific rules he wished to mebe implied.

"You are a pureblood. Both parents are magical. Since you never tried to take the test in your previous time, you'd be surprised to know that Lily Evans was a half blood, and her grandfather was a squib born from the Peverells. Both your parents are from the Peverell line and when they had you, the title became only yours to claim."

"I guess you learn something new everyday. And what's with the fancy nancy-name Harreth?"

"Do you not like it?"

"Do you?"

"Irrelevant."

"Why not just Harry?"

"Immortality has not given you creativity Master."

"Shut up. Fine. I'll keep the bloody name." Harry rolled his eyes mentally while finishing up with the goblins. He wore the lordship ring and scanned through the list of his estates that were being neglected and unoccupied. He would end up needing a house once he got things moving. So far the castle and half of the estates are being maintained by the Potters. But they dismissed the smaller properties and left them unattended to. When he claimed his lordship after the war, most of the properties were already being occupied by muggles due to neglect on the wards while the others just rotted away.

Harry marked down the smaller properties and decided on setting out to expand them. He was quite good with estate managing after he was left to man all the Black properties. He'll choose one where he'll reside as well. He'd have to set up everything while remaining hidden from the ministry. Those meddling old fools were going to ruin his plans if they got wind of the Peverell seat being claimed by someone whose background was impossible to look into.

Harry bought a trunk, a new set of clothes fit for the current year's fashion, and some potions ingredients to brew regular potions he kept with him at all times. He rented a small flat temporarily while he busied himself with the properties he went to check out. So far, they were mostly empty flat lands, unused and isolated from civilization. There were two cottage houses that were within London and were in decent shape. Harry chose one of them and hired people to fix it up, deciding to use muggles instead. They were undeniably good builders and it would prove more convenient. It was also less likely for the ministry to hear of it as well.

A month later after the house was still being redesigned and renovated, Harry set out to visit the person he traveled back in time for. He had been putting it off a few. As old as he was some scars still stung and while he’d pick anything to the torturous boredom that plagued him, Tom Marvolo Riddle was still an existence that made a mess of his life. But he already finished his tantrum in his original universe. He came here ready to feel alive.

And boy did he feel it the moment he laid eyes on the boy whose magic sung to him like that of a Veela’s allure.

It wasn’t a very unusual night when everything changed for one Tom Marvolo Riddle. The night was dark and cloudy, not a single star could be seen from the window of his room. Among the orphans, Tom was the only one who had his own quarters. None of the orphans felt safe to sleep near him at night. Not since the incident with Billy and the rabbit.

Tom ignored the rumbling sound his stomach made. Nothing could be done when the older orphans stole his food and later pushed him to the ground. He couldn’t hurt them so blatantly anymore, not when he heard the matrons discuss and debate on having him exorcised. He had searched the meaning of the word in the old tattered dictionary among the shelves and knew it was something he should avoid. Tom knew they thought he was scary. He knew they thought he was mad.

He didn’t really understand. For as long as he remember, everyone around him feared him. He’s heard the matrons gossip and say how his eyes were unnerving, how strange things always seemed to happen around him, especially when they upset him. Hurting him only made them sick. But no one could prove anything. He was only five. And even at this age he learned to use his appearance to get away with what he could. He’d nearly gotten adopted a couple of times. But each time something happened to prevent it. Something made them change their minds and dump him back in the orphanage. He wasn’t like other children. But he too wanted a family. He’s seen families in church. He wanted it. But these thoughts were at the bottom of his priorities since surviving in the orphanage always came first. And the little boy didn’t just want to survive. He wanted to stand above them. Make them see how they were wrong to treat him the way they did. It wasn’t his fault that families looking to adopt always singled him out first. But the other orphans were bitter jealous and competitive little bastards that would gang up on him for it. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to know things, to have things. So he stole Mary’s crayons, Billy’s toy car, Mrs. Cole’s hairpin…He learned at quite an early age that people weren’t kind. Especially to those different. And Tom knew he was different. He believed he was special for none of the other children or adults could do what he could. He was the smartest out of all of them.

But he was so hungry.

Tom clutched the itchy old blanket, his head laying unhappily on a stiff old pillow as he stared at the blurry for of the moon behind a thick layer of clouds, trying to ignore his hunger. Tears pooled in his eyes. He despised it here in the orphanage. He hated his mother for dying on him. The matrons had given him his answers when he first asked about his parents. He was told of a weak woman who gave birth to him in this very orphanage. And Tom hated her for leaving him here. He wished someone would take him away.

And at that very moment, someone appeared.

He didn’t scream when a man with glowing green eyes appeared before him. All he did was stare in startled silent wonder as a fond gentle and somehow mischievous smile stretched the man’s lips.

“Who are you?” the boy asked warily, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“My name is Harry,” the man said, looking around the room which was dimly lit by the now visible moon.

“What are you?” Tom asked, eyeing the stranger, Harry as the man approached him.

“A wizard,” Harry responded with a cheeky grin. Orbs of light appeared from his fingertips, drawing an amazed gasp from the boy.

“It’s magic, my dear Tom,” Harry continued, letting the lights float playfully around Tom.

“Magic,” the boy whispered in awe before his eyes sharply went back to Harry. “How did you know my name?”

“Because I’m here to take you away from this place,” Harry smiled. “If you’d let me.”

Tom felt his heart lurch and he hurried in shoving away the hopeful feelings Harry’s words ignited in him. “Why? No one wants me. Everyone’s afraid of me.” Sooner or later Harry would probably send him back. Just like the rest of them.

“I want you,” Harry said firmly, bright green eyes hard. “And I’m not afraid.” He knelt in front of Tom, taking his hand and holding it when the boy tried to snatch it back. *I’m not afraid Tom.*

It was like a dose of something electric and warm washed through him. *You can speak snake as well?* he whispered in shock.

*I can,* Harry grinned, his thumb caressing the small hand in his. “Now, will you come with me?

Tom looked conflicted between trusting a complete stranger and staying in the orphanage. Harry was a stranger to him. But Harry was also the answer to all his problems if this was all real.

He nodded firmly and was abruptly rewarded with being enveloped in the warmth of the man’s arms wrapping around his small frame. It felt so nice… and Tom thought to himself that that was what a hug felt like.

Chapter Text

"Is there anything you'd like to take with you?" Harry asked.

Tom looked at his cupboard and thought of packing the few old pieces of clothing that he had. "I'll be buying you new clothes, so don't bother bringing any." The boy looked utterly shocked at the thought of Harry buying him new clothes when the orphanage itself tended to give him the worst and least garments they could scrape from the small donations they rceived. "Do you have any valuables? Books or toys you want to bring with you?"

Tom shook his head, holding his chin up with dignity, refusing to be looked down on for having nothing. But Harry didn't give him anything resembling pity, merely nodding before reaching for his hands again. Tom found it so odd that this stranger seemed to actually want to touch him when everyone else didn't.

"Hold on tight, alright? I'm going to get us out of here and you might find it a little unpleasant," Harry warned the boy. He watched him nod and Harry held him firmly before he apparated them into his temporary flat. He had made sure to buy one with decent enough space, a living room, kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms. Harry had expanded the space a bit for it to be more roomy, buying a shelf and some elementary muggle books for Tom to read.

A miserable groan snapped him out of his thoughts and reminded him of the nausea that accompanied first time apparation. He patted Tom's back, rubbing it up and down soothingly. He was so small, although not as small as he was at the same age. And he was thin. A slight flinch caused Harry to pause and ask Tom to tell him where all his injuries were. The boy attempted to lie but seeing the unwavering look on Harry's face made him relent with a worried expression. "I...the other kids hit me in the stomach before one of them pushed me. I fell on the tree roots and hurt my back," he said quietly, looking a little scared, as if he expected Harry to think he was lying.

Harry contained the rage building inside him, all too aware of the cruelty children were capable of.

"Take off your shirt so I can tend to them," Harry said softly. Tom obeyed but tried to say he could do it on his own. Harry ignored him. He had brewed the salve the previous day and was glad he included the cooling and soothing effect while it repaired any damages it's applied on. "This will feel a little cold," he warned, and true enough the boy stiffened at the first touch, a shiver rippling through his small frame.

"How did you know my name?" Tom asked.

Harry chuckled, he was wondering when the questions would start. "Let's just say I know a lot of things. And your name is just one of them."

"That's not really an answer," Tom grumbled before stiffening, wondering if he'd be punished for speaking the way he did. So when Harry did nothing but continue to apply the salve, he forced himself to relax. It was honestly heartbreaking for Harry to see how fragile Tom was and how cautious and wary he was to let his guard down.

"I guess I'll answer you truthfully," he said as he spelled his hands clean wandlessly and vanished the salve back onto the shelf where he retrieved it from while Tom put his shirt back on. "I've told you that I can do magic right? Well, we're part of this big magical community. They have their own laws, their own government and traditions. People like us, are called wizards, while women are witches. There are other magical beings too, like goblins and elves, vampires and werewolves, dragons and hippogriffs...while the non-magical folk are called muggles. I found out, through magic that you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, are my soulmate. I travelled all the way here to search for you."

Tom looked at him in shock. It was an adorable expression on him. All big light blue eyes and innocent wonder. "Soulmate?"

"Yes," Harry explained, wondering how to phrase it right while Tom looked at him expectantly. "You're mine, and I am yours. We can be anything, from friends, to parent and child, and even lovers. Now I'm trying to look out for you. I don't want you to live in that awful orphanage surrounded by jealous muggles. Although not all of them are bad, you and I know first hand that they aren't kind to those who are different."

"So, you're mine...And you're going to keep me?" Tom looked like he was desperately trying not to believe him, as if he was waiting for the punchline because he was probably used to things like this being untrue and cruel, having experienced being rejected by a number of families already.

Harry sat in front of the little boy and cupped his cheeks. "I'm keeping you. And I'm going to take care of you. I'll never leave you Tom. I swear on my magic." A rush of magic filled the room, glowing faintly until it vanished. Harry pulled him close and gave him another hug, one that Tom reciprocated with a broken sob, tiny hands clutching the fabric of Harry's robes. He cried and cried until he was hiccuping tiredly into Harry's shoulder. "Are you hungry?" Harry asked as he stood and carried the sniffling child. He got a shy nod and Harry carried him over to sit on the kitchen counter while he prepared food, trying to control the boiling rage he had for the people that treated Tom the way they did. 

Tom rubbed the tears from his eyes and watched him take out ingredients. "Is pasta okay?" he asked. He got another nod. He summoned some tissues and handed them over to the boy. He started making some juice, smiling to himself as Tom watched in fascination as he he used magic to work hand in hand with manual cooking. He offered Tom a glass of chocolate milk, and was unable to hide a chuckle from the child's blissful expression as he savored the drink.

Harry let his thoughts drift as he cooked. He had imperiused the people at the orphanage into thinking Tom was still with them. He made them keep Tom's room. He would have to bring him back there once Tom was eleven so that he could get his letter from Dumbledore. It wouldn't do well for the old goat to discover his existence as Tom's guardian. Technically, Dumbledore would still end up as his magical guardian. But Harry would make sure Tom knew that he would always have Harry with him no matter what.

He'll have to hunt down Morfin Gaunt and get him to give Tom the Gaunt name. Harry didn't want the boy to be subjected to the petty blood prejudices in Slytherin when he goes to Hogwarts.

"Will Morfin ever agree to name Tom as the Gaunt heir?" Harry asked Death.

"Sadly no. The man is nothing but a bitter shell of regret and insanity. The Gaunts' inbreeding reduced him into the mess he is now. You'll not succeed in managing anything resembling a conversation with him."

Harry pursed his lips and reduced the heat for the sauce he was making. "How will I give Tom a wizarding name then?"

"You can either name him your heir, which will complicate your plans terribly, or you can kill the Morfin Gaunt."

"Hmmm...torture then," he replied.

Harry glanced at Tom who was trying not to finish the glass, too used to trying to save because of the lack of food in the orphanage along with the matrons' dislike to the boy. "Drink up Tom, you can ask for more when you're done with that glass," he grinned, ruffling the boy's hair and ignoring the flinch that he got when he did. Tom will slowly learn that Harry would never hurt him. "But you'll get the next glass after...is there a word for a meal between lunch and dinner?"

Tom shrugged, looking like he was trying to figure Harry out.

"Anyway, I'll give you the tour of the place once we're done eating," Harry said as he placed the pasta in a bowl and grabbed two dishes and two sets of utensils. He floated them over to the table and once again smiled at Tom's obvious fascination with the simple display of magic. He went over to Tom, took his empty glass and set it on the sink where the spell activated and started washing it automatically. Tom had a chocolate milk mustache and didn't seem aware of it.

Harry grabbed a clean towel and cleaned the now embarrassed boy's face, making Harry laugh. "Alright, now come on, let's eat before the food gets cold." He held out his arms for the boy since he didn't really want to make Tom jump down.

He reluctantly and shyly let Harry carry him as they went to the table where their plates were already full. At first Tom was hesitant to start eating. But Harry teased him, asking him to rate his cooking and give him an honest opinion on what he disliked and liked about the food. The moment Tom took his first bite, he went on to devour everything on his plate, making Harry grin with self satisfaction. The child finished his plate before Harry was even halfway through his. And without even waiting for Tom to go all shy about asking for more, Harry dumped another large serving onto his plate, making the boy lick his lips and nod gratefully as he delved in once again. "I guess I should start with the rules." This made Tom stop mid-chew, looking at him warily.

"First, no lying. I'll know if you do. Second, if you want or need something, tell me. Don't be afraid to talk to me, for I will always listen. Third, your bedtime is at eight. Breakfast will be served at nine, lunch at twelve, and dinner at six. Fourth, you're allowed to read any of the books in my flat except for the ones in my room. And fifth, I'll be teaching you instead of sending you to a muggle school. You'll learn the basic non magical subjects. And once you're done with that, we'll immediately move on to the magical ones. I won't teach you everything since I don't want to rob you of learning from Hogwarts -Oh that's a magical school for young witches and wizards to learn the different branches of magic. We'll talk about it after you're done with elementary schooling." Harry said. He realized how unsure he was on how he should go about taking care of a kid. He never had any, not since he realized he preferred cock to girls. But he did help in taking care of his best friends' kids. Rose Weasley was the closest to Tom's personality. They were both very intelligent. As long as you made them see the logic and reason behind certain rules and actions then they'll understand. But Rose was a little Hermoine mixed with Ron's small carelessness. While Tom was…cunning.

"Any issues with the rules so far?" he asked the child who resumed eating albeit slower than when he finished his first plate.

"How will you know if I'm lying. I didn't lie to the matrons but they didn't believe me," Tom said.

"Well I'm not like your matrons am I?" Harry reasoned. "I'm a way better cook and a lot younger than they are." Well, physically. He was over a hundred years old. "I'm a wizard Tom. We both are. And I know ways to tell if your lying." He paused and sipped his water. "But that's not really the point of the rule. I want us to be honest with each other. You and I are two halves of a soul. I know this may be a lot to take in but I know you're a smart child. Smarter than most children your age even." He smiled, knowing that Tom would be the brightest student Hogwarts has ever had. Brighter than his Hermione even.

At the praise, Tom seemed to be trying not to preen, but it obviously pleased him. Harry was going to get rid of his habit of suppressing his feelings. It would create too much distance between them.

"You'll soon understand that I'm not someone who will use you. Or hurt you," he said and watched as light blue eyes watered at his words. He stood up and went towards him, crouching down to hold him. This time, Tom let him without any sort of reluctance. And Harry felt like he was just given something precious.

After giving the boy a short tour, he let him grab a book to read while Harry went over paperwork for the properties he was expanding and the investments he was making. He planned on opening a vault for Tom so that he'd have his own money in Hogwarts. Knowing Tom, he would no doubt spend it wisely.

A few hours later, he found Tom asleep on the couch, the book cradled on his lap. "Damn, you're too cute," he mumbled to himself. It was hard to imagine that this adorable little boy could grow into the most dangerous Dark Lord the wizarding world has ever seen.

He scooped him up and looked down on the sleeping child. If, despite the love and care Harry would give him, he still turned out to be a dark lord, then Harry would support him. He'll just make sure he stayed sane. If he wanted immortality then Harry would make sure he gets it without having to mutilate his soul the way the Tom Riddle in his timeline did.

He smiled ruefully down at the angel in his arms. He was going to grow up into a right looker. Just thinking about the men and women competing for his attention made his blood boil. He sighed. Although soulmates didn’t necessarily equate to lovers, Harry wasn’t sure he could take it if Tom found someone worthy enough to occupy his bed.

“Already feeling possessive, master?” Death mused in his head.

“Sod off you,” Harry scolded as he entered the second bedroom. He laid Tom down gently and tucked him in. They’d have to go shopping for clothes tomorrow. Clothes, toiletries, books, quills and parchments, and also grocery shopping.

He bent down and gave Tom a goodnight kiss on the forehead. He wondered if he should buy an elf. He won’t be able to keep up with the housework once his properties start making money. He also plans on brewing for St. Mungo’s anonymously. He didn’t really want to cause his vaults to deplete. He wanted them to triple.

It would be better if he got a hold of the Gaunt vaults. They were already rotting away. He wanted Tom to be able to have something from his name. 

“Can I become Tom’s official guardian without alerting the ministry?”

“Sadly, no. Every magical child is under the protection and supervision of the ministry. They will need to make sure the child is under a proper guardian and should someone else wish to claim guardianship over young Riddle, then you will have to wait and see if your credentials win over the competition.”

“And against Dumbledore?”

“Well, the man has too many responsibilities to take care of a child. So he won’t be a problem.”

“But it would be a problem if I claim guardianship because of what I plan to do once Tom starts school.”

“Yes. The easiest route to take in order for what you want to be achieved is to imperio the boy’s uncle into signing over his vaults to you, or just torture him into it as you mentioned earlier."

“Good morning,” Harry greeted the sleep rumpled child who was rubbing his eyes drowsily. 

“Good morning,” Tom replied quietly, not sure what to do. He had woken up disoriented and confused before he remembered being taken from the orphanage by the mysterious green-eyed-man named Harry.

He watched him smile warmly at him, making his chest feel warm and fluttery. Tom remembered him saying they were soulmates. That he found Tom through magic. At first he thought it was just garbage. But then why else would Harry ever want him? And Tom decided not to question his motives for now. After all, Harry was tons better than the orphanage.

“I made pancakes,” Harry told him as he set the plate full of pancakes on the table.

Tom felt his mouth salivate. This man was tempting him with food. It wasn’t fair. It was hard to keep his guard up around someone who kept looking at him like he was someone important and made great food. It was the first time Tom ever tasted such great pasta in his life. The food at the orphanage was nothing compared to his dinner last night.

“We’re going out to shop today. For your clothes and some groceries,” Harry said as he poured syrup on his stack.

Tom still felt uncomfortably wary that someone was willing to buy him stuff. They never did before. Everyone who first thought they wanted to take him was easily discouraged later on by his…freakishness.

Now Tom realized it was magic. Harry said they were wizards.

Once Tom finished his food, took his plate and was about to head to the kitchen before he stopped next to Harry and looked up at him.

“Thank you for the meal,” he said and the same warm feeling bubbled up in him as Harry beamed a bright happy smile at him. As if Tom had given him gold or something precious.

And then Harry did something that made Tom freeze and his mind to go completely blank. Harry bent down and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re welcome Tom.”

Tom could feel his face heat up as unfamiliar emotions whirled up inside him. He nodded hurriedly and scurried off to dump his plate in the sink, absently watching as Harry’s magic automatically cleaned it.

He looked back to see Harry move around the room to get ready for their little trip later. There was something special about the man. Tom still wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth about them being soulmates, but he couldn’t help but want it to be true.

Chapter Text

“Tom?”

Harry stopped in front of the bathroom, knocking quietly. Tom was taking awfully long in there. It’s already been two weeks since he took the five year old away from the orphanage. So far, Tom seemed lost on how to interact with him. But the boy didn’t lie, nor did he look at Harry suspiciously anymore. He lost the habit of flinching after three days of Harry’s pampering. He just couldn’t keep himself from giving the adorable child a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Most times, he would go to Tom and smother him affectionately. Tom, at first, stiffened incredibly, making Harry feel like he was hugging a hard porcelain doll. The little boy didn’t seem to understand Harry’s need to cuddle him. Since no one ever did. And after a week of Harry’s affection, he seemed to have given up on trying to understand Harry at all, and just let himself be cuddled.

Harry knew Tom secretly liked it, if his melting against him is any indication. Sometimes, Harry notices him fighting with himself on whether or not he should go to Harry or stay where he was. It was something Harry watched with immense fondness.

“Tom, is something wrong?” Harry asked.

“Nothing!”

Right.

Harry opened the door and paled when he saw blood on the sink with a frightened Tom staring at him with wide blue eyes. “What happened?” he asked, spelling the blood away and quickly kneeling in front of Tom. “Are you okay?” Harry asked checking him all over.

“I…my tooth…” Tom said trying to appease the worrying adult.

“Tooth?” Harry said.

Tom blushed and opened his mouth to bare his teeth, showing a missing tooth from his front row.

Harry sighed in utter relief. “Don’t scare me like that. I was really worried. Now let me see,” he said cupping the boy’s cheeks. “I forgot about baby teeth honestly. So this is the first one you’ve lost yes?”

Tom nodded sourly. Harry easily understood what displeased him, making him chuckle. “Oh don’t worry. Your permanent teeth will start growing soon enough.”

“I look ridiculous,” Tom argued, bottom lip jutting out into an unconscious pout.

“No. You look cute and handsome like always,” Harry argued lightly but also matter-of-factly. He leaned forward and pecked his cheek, delighting in the embarrassed expression on Tom’s face.

“I do not.”

“Do too.”

“You’re so immature Harry.”

“Why thank you Tom,” Harry laughed, scooping the kid into his arms. He could still catch that baffled look on Tom’s cherubic face, the question of why Harry was so nice lingering on his expression while the adult paid it no mind. He was used to little Tom’s careful personality. “Have you finished your homework?” Harry asked as he carried him over to couch. Tom shot him a look that clearly said “duh.”

“So snippy today,” Harry remarked casually, pulling at his cheek while the boy swatted his hand away. But it was pretty stupid of him to ask. Tom was a hungry little beast for knowledge. He had an eidetic memory and an insatiable curiosity. The boy was truly a genius. It has only been two weeks and he has gone through around a dozen books. He often asked Harry to explain the heavier words until Harry was forced to buy him his own dictionary.

“I’m not snippy,” Tom argued.

“Sure you aren’t,” Harry said agreeably.

“You’re making fun of me,” Tom accused.

“I’m not. Okay, a little, but I was just teasing,” Harry grinned, “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to rile up.”

“I am not—“Tom clamped his mouth shut and refused to be lured in. Clever boy.

“How are you so smart?” Harry laughed, ruffling his hair. “I guess for today, I can have you keep practicing your penmanship.”

“It’s good enough. Why do I need to keep practicing?”

“Oh Tom, you won’t fool me. I know you’re still trying to perfect it to your monstrous standards so let me acknowledge your efforts instead of having you lose sleep from trying to keep your practices secret from me. Besides, my handwriting is atrocious. Someone has to write decently for the two of us.”

“Why do you have such bad handwriting then?”

“I didn’t touch a quill until I was eleven. And even before that I wasn’t really allowed near pens and pencils unless I was at school.” Or doing Dudley’s homework for him.

“How come?” Tom asked, narrowing his eyes curiously. Harry, to Tom, was good at almost everything. Cooking, making money, teaching…there were a lot on the list from what he observed. And it made him wonder why something as simple as handwriting became something he was poor at.

“The people who took care of me before…well, they kept me too busy to find time to even consider practicing my handwriting when I could just spend said time to rest and sleep. They weren’t very good people. They hated me,” Harry explained.

“Like the people at the orphanage,” Tom said nodding in understanding.

“Yes. We both had it bad. But not anymore,” Harry said.

Tom was quiet for a while and Harry left him on the couch while he brought his paperwork over so he could work next to Tom. “Why don’t you practice with me then?” Tom offered a moment later.

Harry gave him a small smile and he nodded, “Okay, I’ll squeeze that into my schedule then.” He quietly counted this as a point. He’s made incredible progress with winning Tom over. To most they’d think he’s already done so, but Harry knew Tom. Even this not-yet-corrupt version of him. Tom Riddle was a careful and calculating person, five years old or not. It would not be easy to earn his trust completely. The boy had gotten used to Harry. But he was always mentally preparing for the other shoe to drop. Harry caught him thinking said thoughts more times than he’d like to count. It was drilled into the boy’s mind from an alarmingly early age. Where Harry had been hungry for approval, Tom was hungry for power. Harry had wished for acceptance, while Tom wanted control.

Harry was neglected and abused. His own existence acknowledged only for a good verbal bashing or to serve the pigs with a number of beatings from his dear cousin. It made Harry defiant while pining for a family of his own. The main thing that struck Harry was the “freak” thing. He hated that word. Loathed it. They called him worthless and a waste of space. A burden, a freak. Even the almost 200 years of living did not banish the scars he carried from his childhood.

He wondered what words haunted Tom. Wondered what hideous words whispered in his ear for him to continuously try to draw back from Harry to keep weaving himself a safety net.

Harry was going to banish these thoughts. He would be patient and won't delude himself into thinking there was a shortcut to this. Tom was already warming up to him, albeit slowly. 

Baby steps for the baby Dark Lord.

A few hours later, the tawny owl Harry bought had arrived with a small bundle of letters in its beak. "Hello girl," he greeted, petting the owl and smiling at the affectionate hoot he was given. He remembered Hedwig when he bought Pyx. There were letters updating him on the house. Just another month and it would be finished. It was already looking splendid the last time Harry visited to observe the progress. And he may or may not have accelerated the building process a little bit.

After all, he had a baby Dark Lord to raise. He was determined to spoil the boy rotten while also making sure Tom grew up with the right morals and principles.

“Let me take a picture. C’mon Tom,” Harry whined at the angry petulant child later that same day. “I already swore to you that no one would ever see it.”

Tom kept his arms crossed, looking at Harry with a glare that tried to cut Harry down.

“Give me one good reason why I can’t take a picture of you. This is for documenting your childhood. You only get to be a kid once,” Harry said.

“No. You are not taking a picture of how silly I look missing a bloody tooth,” Tom bit out, even going so far as to stomp his foot down.

Harry frowned at him. “Language.”

Tom looked slightly scolded from that, but continued his refusal.

“Fine then. I’ll simply put the memory in a pensieve then,” Harry shrugged, vanishing the camera onto the shelf in his room.

Tom looked slightly alarmed. “What do you mean? What’s a pensieve?” he demanded.

“It means I can just save a copy of the memory and view it later. I’ll start keeping them for every time something memorable happens,” He said cheerfully, going towards the kitchen to cook dinner.

“No! I forbid you!” Tom uncharacteristically yelled, marching after him like an angry tyrant.

Harry laughed merrily. “You can’t stop my lovely Tom.”

“Harry!”

“Relax you bossy imp. It’s not like I would ever allow anyone to view them. And they’ll be safely hidden. Remember when I caught you reading something you weren’t supposed to?” he asked lightly, referring to the time Tom snuck into his room and got a hold of one of the darker books of magic.

Tom paused, remembering the first time Harry scolded him. He nodded sullenly, hating how he had cried at night after that.

“Well, did you ever find it again? I know you tried looking for it.”

Tom flushed and scowled at the floor, shaking his head.

“See? I can hide things well. And I’m telling you the truth when I say you pass by it everyday and yet you never saw it again.”

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Now, are you going to help me prepare our food or will you go back to your reading? I noticed how you skipped a few chapters earlier.”

“I already read them while you were away the other day,” Tom replied haughtily, turning on his heel and walking back into the living room.

Harry shook his head with an amused smile. The book he just handed him wasn’t supposed to be due until the next week.  He knew Tom wanted to skip the magic lessons. He kept trying to insist that he can learn magic along with the muggle subjects, but Harry refused. And when he kept sulking, Harry gave him a tickle attack that had the little boy gasping and laughing before he finally relented.

They ate dinner with the usual comfortable silence and some critiquing from Tom. He now openly told Harry what he liked about the food and what he didn’t. Harry would make a mental list for it and easily replicate the dishes that Tom seemed to primly salivate over. He would ask for seconds and try to hold back sounds of appreciation. The boy had gained a decent amount of weight and no longer looked as skinny as he did when Harry first took him.

Harry wrote down the recipes for Tom’s favorites for when he bought a house elf.

The following day, Harry took Tom out with him to Diagon Alley. They went to Gringotts where Harry opened a vault for Tom, explaining that this was where the money for his schooling and allowances will go and that he’ll have access to it once he receives his letter for Hogwarts. Tom looked at the vault greedily then back at Harry with hidden disbelief.

Harry merely ruffled his hair affectionately, making the boy huff in fake irritation. Tom had refused to hold his hand, claiming to be able to follow Harry without wandering off like an idiot.

“That wasn’t the case the first time I brought you here,” Harry mused.

Tom blushed and wrinkled his cute nose at him with distaste, making Harry wonder just where in the world the kid picked up such sour and snooty expressions. He thought for a horrified minute that maybe it was from him, but immediately dismissed it. He never actually consciously sneered or scowled at anyone in Tom’s presence. So he must’ve picked it up from the orphanage, making Harry purse his lips.

Well, at least he could sneer better than Draco. It could very well cut anyone down a few pegs.

But not Harry since he knew Tom secretly loved him.

The weeks turned into months and before Harry knew it he was now supposed to teach Tom about magic. The boy was practically vibrating with excitement while trying to remain indifferent but merely expectant. He ran into Harry’s room and shook him awake, shrieking when Harry grabbed him into a sleepy hug, making the boy yelp indignantly while blushing prettily.

“Harry! Let me go!” He huffed while wriggling in Harry’s hold. The man made a sleepy noise and nuzzled Tom’s neck, making the little boy shiver as he felt the slight stubble scrape his skin, tickling him. “Harry!” he tried again, “Wake up! You’re supposed to teach me magic today!”

“mmm ‘ater…” Harry murmured incoherently.

“Harry you promised!”

“I ‘ove you ‘oo Tom…”

Tom bit his arm, making the man yelp nd blink owlishly at him. “Did you just bite me?”

“Teach me magic!”

“After breakfast,” Harry yawned, letting him go in favor of rolling onto his side with his back facing the nagging child.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Tom whined impatiently.

“I can’t believe you just whined. What happened to acting maturely?” Harry laughed under the covers which Tom was trying to yank away from him unsuccessfully. He was still so very sleepy, having dealt with Gaunt after Tom went to bed. It took all his will not to murder the man. He was a vile waste of a man and had cursed and insulted his own sister in front of Harry. Merope Gaunt was surely a foolish woman. No one could blame Riddle Sr. for leaving her once he came to his senses. But that didn’t give Gaunt the right to damn her to hell for falling in love with a muggle. She was his blood. And yet he easily cast her aside as a disgrace. He reminded him of Petunia and her hateful attitude towards Lily and the last reminder of her.

Now, after a little bit (a lot) of torture, he managed to get the man to name Tom as an official Gaunt. Harry spent the entire night forcing him into it and once the will was set and the deed done, he obliviated him and planted a fake memory of drinking himself to sleep. Afterwards, Harry spent the night using blood magic to help his future plans.

He had come back home only a few hours before Tom came barging into his room.

“I am mature,” Tom said and Harry didn’t need to look to see him crossing his arms. “I’m not the one still in bed half past 8.”

“It’s that early?” Harry groaned, wanting to sleep some more.

“It is not,” Tom muttered. Harry rolled over to look at him with tired green eyes, making him falter in his determination to get the man moving already. He watched as Harry reached out and touched him just below his eyes, making him blink.

“What time did you wake up?” Harry asked hoarsely, voice sleep-laced.

Tom looked away. “Around five…”

“And what time did you sleep?”

Tom bit his lip. “At midnight, I think…”

He watched as Harry smiled sleepily. “Got too excited?” he asked with a soft chuckle. Tom found himself being pulled in once again before he could reply. It was only then that he noticed the dark bags under Harry’s eyes and how tired he looked. He was pulled against the man’s chest, green eyes sleepily focused on him. He allowed it, having a chance to observe Harry in a slightly vulnerable state. He had never seen Harry like this. He always seemed to awake and cheerful in the morning.

“Did you sleep late too?” he asked quietly.

Harry hummed and hugged him close. “Haven’t slept yet. I was out last night…”

Tom stiffened at the revelation that Harry had left last night. It didn’t go unnoticed by Harry who was quick to shush him. “Where did you go?” Tom demanded.

“To your uncle,” Harry mumbled, running his hand through Tom’s hair whose eyes widened considerably. “I have an uncle?”

“Mmm…he’s an arse…took hours to persuade him into naming you the heir…” he answered truthfully.

Tom was reeling with the information. Processing the fact that he had blood relatives alive. How did Harry know? Where’d he find him? Who was his uncle? Heir of what? Why didn’t his uncle take him in? Why did he have to live in the orphanage?

Did they not want—

“Stop thinking,” Harry said looking at him intently. “I’ll explain later, once we’ve both slept.”

“But—“

“I’m sorry I left last night without telling you. I promise to tell you the next time. And you should understand by now that I won’t ever leave you, not permanently. You’re my little soulmate. I will always want you,” Harry said solemnly with a small smile as he saw Tom bury his face into his shirt. “Now sleep. I’ll explain in the morning,” he said, pressing a kiss on top of the child’s head.

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up later that day, he found Tom silently crying. The boy was still in his arms, small frame shaking from soundless sobs he muffled in Harry’s soaking shirt. Harry stared for a moment. His mind was waking up fast, thoughts catching up to what he said when he was half-conscious. Usually, a night without sleep was no big deal for him. But torturing someone and playing around with blood magic without a wand all night was a little too tiring even for him. And his impatience that made him review the Gaunt vaults (which had disastrously dwindled into an almost barely unsalvageable state) just added to his exhaustion.

He recounted what he had said, and realized with a mental groan that he told little Tom about his living blood relative. He could already guess his soulmate’s thoughts. All those questions in his young mind and chaotic emotions filling his tiny frame. He had been thoughtless, but it wasn’t like he was going to lie to the boy. He never had. And he wasn’t planning to. Harry had been lied to all his life. He doubted Tom, as smart as he was, would not be capable of handling whatever truth he demanded from him. And Harry was prepared to tell him everything. He knew the child didn’t really believe that they were soulmates. He doubted he even thought about it. But Harry had decided to open it up to him as early as then so that it wouldn’t come as such a shock once Tom realized what a soulmate really is in the magic world.

Besides, even in his immortality, he never truly forgot the immense frustration of Dumbledore’s “you’re too young to understand” rubbish.

Harry tightened his hold, making the boy freeze at being caught. He refused to look up at Harry and started furiously wiping at his tears. “Sorry about this morning,” Harry murmured quietly, running his hand up and down Tom’s back. “So, I think I have some um… explaning to do then,” he said.

Tom pinched his side.

“Ow, okay, um…” Harry said gathering his thoughts. “Your last name, Riddle, is of course, your father’s name. He got tricked by your mother using a love potion and left once he realized what she did. He didn’t know your mom was pregnant and he hated your mom for what she did, so he didn't really want to know either. He’s a muggle. Your mom was a witch. She was from the Gaunt House, an old wizarding family directly from the Slytherin line.”

“What’s slytherin?” Tom asked croakily, removing his face from where is had been firmly pressed against Harry’s chest. He still didn’t look up. His mind was dissecting the facts now. Emotions warring over how he felt ashamed to be related to someone who would drug someone, a muggle no less, and leave him to fend off for himself after the mess she created. He couldn’t really blame his muggle father for leaving, if it were him, he might’ve killed her. But that was only if he was ever drugged, which he believes himself above such a thing. But then, once he thought of his father’s hate for his mom being a witch, for magic, he couldn’t help but feel murderous as well. He was just like those people at the orphanage. And those people were better off dead.

Harry smiled, “Salazar Slytherin. He’s one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He’s a powerful pureblood wizard who also happens to be a parselmouth, like you.”

Tom finally looked up at him, nose and the corners of his eyes pink from crying, “You mean like us,” he corrected, making Harry grin at him.

“Yes, like us. He and the other founders divided Hogwarts into four houses. Slytherin represented cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition. Your mother’s family came from the Cadmus Peverell, brother to my own ancestor, Ignatius Peverell. Cadmus’ line was soon married into a member of the Slytherin line and many generations after the two merged into the Gaunt line. Your mother named you after your grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt, even though he was the one to disown your mother. Her brother, Morfin Gaunt, is the only living member of the family left, well aside from you. He’s a filthy prejudiced alcoholic who has been depleting the family wealth like the last two to three generations before him. He's jobless, bitter, and hateful. When I told him to name you the heir, he started spitting pure-blood supremacy and called your mother a blood-traitor who married muggle trash. Said you were no better than a filthy little mudblood and for that I made him scream a lot more than necessary.”

Tom’s fists clenched into Harry’s shirt, light blue eyes blazing angrily. “What do those words mean?” he asked.

“Blood-traitor refers to muggle sympathizers. Mudblood is a derogatory slur for muggle-born witches and wizards. Purebloods are magical folks whose family lines can be traced from the oldest lines of our history. I can buy you a copy of the Pure-blood Directory. It was published last year, by an anonymous writer who everyone speculates to be Cantankerus Nott. I personally think they’ve put a lot of biases in that rubbish,” Harry muttered. He had a lot to say about that damn directory. It wasn’t that their bigotry against muggles was unfounded. It was still an era where the times of witch hunts and stoning were very much remembered. Especially by the magical community who outlived the muggles by centuries. Harry just wished their hatred didn’t blind them stupid. But of course it did since Harry had to deal with that in his first timeline.

“So what am I? And what are you?” Tom sniffed.

“Blood status? You and I are both halfbloods. But I’m more or less considered as a new generation pureblood. You see, magical people tend to think of muggle borns as dirty blood. They think they’re purely sullied existences that should not have been blessed with magic. But think, we know we hate muggles, but a witch is a witch and a wizard is a wizard no matter where they came from. See they aren’t muggles. They’re born pure, like a clean slate. Generations today have been inbreeding too much that they’ve started to go barmy. Many purebloods have laced madness into their line because of this. Muggles had a point when they banned incest in their laws. It messes up the genetic makeup of people and gives the next generations a touch of lunacy. It’s a fact. The Gaunts have this. They were so proud of their blood lineage that they tried very hard not to sully it. So they married their cousins and continued to grow the madness. You, on the other hand, were conceived from a pureblood witch and a muggle man. You’re magic is cleaner but you retained the hereditary magic from your bloodline, like being a parselmouth,” Harry said as he cupped one of Tom’s cheeks and ran his thumb across the tear streaks.

“Is Morfin a parselmouth too?” Tom asked, leaning into the touch even while his eyes remained on Harry.

“Yes, though a great lot that could do him since the practice of parselmagic has all been forgotten,” he smiled, kissing Tom’s forehead.

“Is the Gaunt family the only one who has that trait?”

“I think so, not really sure,” Harry answered.

“Then how come you’re a parselmouth too?”

Harry thought about it and answered gently, “We share a soul. My ability came from you.” At Tom’s stare he smiled and hugged him as he rolled them over, settling the boy on top of him. Tom stared at him, expression unreadable before he reached forward and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. He scooted back and snuggled into his chest.

Harry was so shocked, he felt himself blush furiously. He couldn’t help but hug Tom closer, nuzzling into his hair. “I love you Tom.”

Tom didn’t reply, but Harry could see his ears turn red. “Can we start with the lessons now?” he asked instead, causing Harry to laugh.

Harry prepared some bacon and sausages with nice buttered toast for them since they both agreed to have a breakfast meal, and after they’ve both eaten, Harry spelled the dishes clean and sat Tom down at his desk by the sliding door leading to the balcony.

Tom had his quill and parchment out, looking at Harry eagerly. Harry smiled and Tom seemed to smile back before he caught himself and stared on. Harry's smile widened. “Alright, so the first thing that you should be aware of is magic.” At the look of impatience in Tom’s eyes, he flicked his forehead. “No, stop right there and just listen. Magic is everywhere. But within us wizards especially. We have a magical core that grows with us. The more you learn, understand and practice magic, the more powerful and better you’ll be at it. Magic has its own set of laws. Unlike the muggle law, it cannot be cheated. You may, some day find a way to, but it will only bite you right up your bum before you can relish in your success.”

Tom nodded and wrote some notes down. Harry knew he could remember everything perfectly, but he liked to highlight bits about the lesson he can easily go back to later on.

“Have you ever tried to feel your magic?” he asked him, making the little boy purse his lips as he thought about it. “Not really. It only comes up when I’m angry, like when the others at the orphanage are being stupid.”

Harry nodded and a second later he let his magic flare from within his center, expanding around them until it was filling the magically expanded place. Tom gasped and his eyes sort of glazed over before Harry quickly pulled his magic back to him. “Judging by your reaction, you definitely felt that. So, describe to me what it was.”

Tom swallowed, looking at Harry in open awe. “It was…you felt huge, and…overwhelming. There was so much. And it’s incredibly difficult to put into words. You looked like you were bigger, and that you loomed over me even though you were just sitting there.”

Harry smiled. “That was a bit of my magic. I let it flare up to see how you’d react to it. Notice that it wasn’t anything malicious or threatening, merely overwhelming and a bit intimidating I suppose. Unlike how your magic must’ve felt when you were angry with the other orphans.”

Tom nodded, but to him, Harry had been more than intimidating and definitely dangerous.

“Why do you think that is?”

Tom paused, looking at Harry before answering. “Because I was angry with the orphans. But you aren’t angry with me.”

“Yes, it’s the intent behind it. And you must always remember that in magic, it can only be effective if you put your will into it. You can learn the words and perfect the wand movement but without any will behind it, it won’t work.”

Tom scribbled down his exact words and it made Harry flush. It felt a little overwhelming to realize he was being quoted and that his words were going to feed the baby Dark Lord’s insatiable curiosity for knowledge.

“You said, wand movement. Yet I don’t see you with a wand Harry,” Tom asked, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Well, my wand is unfortunately with someone else as of the moment. I’ll probably get to that next week. I’m starting to miss it. My other wand, well it’s still in the shop. I was planning on buying it with you once your letter arrives.”

“Do wizards normally have two wands? And if you can perform magic without a wand, then why get a wand in the first place?” Tom asked, scrunching his brows.

“Oh, that’s called wandless magic. It’s extremely difficult. There’s only a handful of wizards who can perform wandlessly because not everyone has an affinity to have full control of their magic. That’s what wands are for. An instrument to direct the flow of magic and in cases where the compatibility is perfect, amplify your magic as well,” Harry explained, creating a soft orb of light above his fingertips.

If Tom weren’t so distracted by discovery that Harry was indeed truly powerful and if what he said about wandless magic were correct, he might’ve paid more attention to the orb. But wandless magic couldn’t be that difficult, surely? If it was this easy for the man. He will have to ask Harry to buy him a book about it.

But if Harry really were such a powerful wizard, wasn’t it only fitting since he claimed to be Tom’s?

Maybe the soulmate thing was still questionable in Tom’s opinion, but for whatever reasons the man had even if it were utterly silly, it brought him out of that hell hole he was living in. It brought him to Harry. This odd man with pretty green eyes and a warm smile who spoke to him fondly and touched him with a great amount of affection. Harry knew so much about his life for some reason. He wondered how Harry knew he was a Gaunt. Did he know his family? If so, in what way and when? Why would Harry also force his uncle into naming him a Gaunt? What did it matter? Both Riddle and Gaunt left a foul taste in his mouth. Although he supposed Gaunt held more value seeing as there was a rich history and, well, former prestige to accompany the name. Riddle was just…muggle.

And then a thought hit him. “What’s your last name?”

Harry looked at him from where he was writing down their supposed syllabus for Tom’s pre-Hogwarts education. “Peverell.”

“Like our ancestors? You mean you stayed on the main branch of the family and didn’t merge with some other wizarding family?” Tom asked curiously.

“Well, honestly I was born a Potter. But I received the Peverell genes and am the only one with more than enough claim on the name. None of my family members would have been able to if they ever tried. It belongs to me as much as Slytherin and Gaunt belong to you,” Harry mused. “Although I was Lord Potter-Black once.”

“You were married?” Tom asked with barely concealed anger which Harry was quick to reassure him with, “No, I just inherited two titles, love. My godfather named me his heir before he died.” Tom noticed the sadness drip into Harry’s voice the moment he mentioned his godfather. It wasn’t hard to realize that Harry cared a lot for him and misses the man a lot. Not that Tom would understand. He never had anyone he felt that way about.

“Why name me a Gaunt then? Why not Slytherin?” he asked softly.

“You’re not of age to claim it yet. Fifteen is the age for claiming lordships while seventeen is when you are viewed as an official adult. I wanted to give you the Gaunt name so you won’t have to go to school and face the disgusting bigotry purebloods have drilled into their children,” Harry said, running a hand through Tom’s hair. The boy leaned into his touch. And harry thought he was like a cat.

“Okay,” Tom said. Harry knew it was as good as a heartfelt thank you with the way Tom had said it. So you can’t blame him if he ended up smothering the boy because of it.

The house was officially built now, but the only problem was the furniture and interior décor. Tom didn’t scowl or frown as often as he did the first few weeks and also actively sought Harry out to either ask questions about magic, Hogwarts, and wizarding politics, or just to sit next to Harry while he does his reading. His permanent tooth was starting to peek from where he had lost his baby tooth a month ago. He still wouldn’t allow Harry to take a picture but Harry had stared enough to store in his pensieve.

Harry bought two house elves named Telby and Gobry. He left Tom in the house while he directed the two elves on what kind of furniture he wanted them to buy, the colors they should follow and the style he wished for them to execute. He gave them a number of cutouts from magazines that were about house interiors, although his was more of a castle-like mansion than anything. He handed it to them and asked them not to be afraid to ask for clarifications. He also asked them not to mention anything in front of his ward, Tom. “It’s supposed to be a surprise for him,” he told them with a wink.

He handed them each a pouch of galleons to cover for the expenses and told them to keep the receipts. And as for the muggle furniture they try to buy, he told them to just hand him the list so he can order them.

When he arrived home at around five in the afternoon, he found the sandwiches he made for Tom untouched, and the homework he was supposed to pass today unfinished with a messy smear of ink on the desk. Harry vanished the mess and worriedly headed over to Tom’s room, only to find the bed empty. His heart thudded worriedly and he ran to his room to find the little boy curled in the center, buried in his sheets clutching one of his shirts.

He quickly headed over to the bed and saw the boy tense and look up to him in surprise. Eyes red-rimmed as he hid the shirt he had been holding. He looked away from Harry and went under the covers.

“Hey, I’m back…” Harry said softly as he lay beside the small bundle trying to hide from him. “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘welcome back’?”

Tom said nothing and Harry pressed against the boy reassuringly. “I told you this morning didn’t I? I was just leaving to take care of something. I promised to be back before dinner.” Still met with silence. “You didn’t touch your sandwiches. Was it the tomatoes? I know you don’t mind them and I thought it went perfectly well with—“

“I don’t care about the tomatoes!” Tom yelled at him from under the sheets.

“Then why are you upset Tom?” Harry asked gently, prying the sheets away until he could press a kiss on top of his head. He heard a sob wrenched from the little boy and Harry took no time in taking off the covers and pulling him into a comforting hug. “Shh…it’s okay love. I’m here. I told you I’d be back. You shouldn’t have lied to me and should’ve just told me you weren’t comfortable with me leaving.”

“I didn’t *hic* lie. I was really fine when you told me that. But when after a few hours…I don’t know. I couldn’t concentrate. I got angry at you. Angry that you left. I couldn’t reason with myself. I didn’t want to eat. I was just…waiting for you. I couldn’t even finish my homework. I kept wondering if you really would come back.”

“Oh, no, no, no Tom, love, no,” Harry murmured pulling him up as he sat up and settled him on his lap. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way,” he said as he hugged him tight and ran a hand up and down his spine.

Death? How many times was Tom almost adopted?

Why hello to you too master. I’ve been good.

…

Around five times. Twice they actually took him and returned him the following day.

Well that explains it. Thanks.

Go comfort the cheating brat.

Harry rocked them both and let Tom cry on him, his small hands holding onto Harry tightly. It took a while before he finally calmed down into sniffles, and when Harry tried to pull away, his entire body tensed and Harry stayed. “Have I ever lied to you?” he asked.

“No…” Tom said after a while.

“So when I say I’ll be back, you should always remember that. You’re my little Tom. And I’m your Harry. It will always be that way,” He promised. He felt Tom nod and after who knows how long they spent in that position, Tom soon fell asleep.

Chapter Text

"Where are we going?" Tom asked as he let Harry help him put on his robes. The man wanted to fuss and Tom found it a waste of time to refuse him since it was undoubtedly futile anyway. It had nothing to do with Tom's growing fondness for the green-eyed man. Not at all.

"I reserved a table for us at some fancy restaurant," Harry answered as he surveyed little Tom.

"Why?"

"Because it's your birthday of course," Harry replied, tapping one of Tom's cheeks as he started to stand. Tom tugged him down and began trying to fix his wild Potter hair. Harry smiled broadly at him, feeling Tom's small hands struggle with them.

“Why can’t we just eat here? I’d rather eat your cooking,” Tom told him as he frowned at the stubborn lock curling around his fingers, making Harry chuckle while he held still for the boy. They’ve grown considerably closer since he first took Tom away from the orphanage. After crying two more times since the first when Harry left, Tom had gotten better at believing Harry would come back to him. He still hasn’t completely gotten over it though. The crying had stopped, but he still needed to be hugged and cuddled for reassurance which Harry was happy to give him.

“I’m pleased that you like my cooking that much, but I just thought I’d spoil you some more. You’ve been reading about pureblood etiquette and have been reprimanding me for my horrendous ones all week. I thought you’d like to practice outside the apartment for once,” Harry replied and watched as Tom stepped back to survey his work. Harry didn’t think he managed to do anything until he looked in the mirror and blinked in surprise. It was the tamest he’d ever seen his hair. It honestly looked good too. “How’d you fix it?” Harry wondered.

Tom tilted his head, “I just did. I’ve always wondered why you leave it so messy.”

“Hmm…everyone I know has tried to fix it. My aunt shaved it off me when I was a kid and it grew back the day after,” he said before getting an amused glint in his eyes. “Must be the soulmate thing. My hair only obeys you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Harry,” the cute little five year old replied, rolling his eyes exasperatedly even when Harry could tell he was obviously pleased.

“We better get going,” he said with a smile, offering his hand to the little boy who took it. Harry apparated them in the front of the restaurant. Tom managed with only a minor stumble while Harry almost fell. Tom actually managed to steady the both of them as best he could with as small as he was. He wanted to shake his head at how clumsy Harry could be. He took a moment to look at the restaurant and blinked in fascination at the floating orbs of light that floated over the fancy wall of water framing the entrance. He barely noticed Harry leading them inside after talking briefly with one of the waiters. He blinked when he felt his seat rise until he could comfortably reach the table. Harry grinned at him from the other side of the table and a waitress handed them the menus, and Tom caught her staring at Harry the way the matrons sometimes looked at a handsome man that visited the orphanage. But it looked like Harry was unaware of the attention. He was telling Tom which ones he should try and some silly story about how his friend named Ron tried shoving an entire plate of pasta in his haste. Ron seemed to be a bit of a barbarian in Tom’s opinion. But if just the memory of him made Harry smile like that, then he supposed he could pardon Ron’s uncivilized behavior.

“Do you still keep in touch with him?” he asked as he set the menu down, his order already in mind.

Harry smiled sadly. “I’m afraid he’s not here. None of my friends are…”

Tom’s brows furrowed. “How come?”

Harry shook his head with a resigned smile, “They’re dead. Or well, they don’t exist yet.”

Tom was getting incredibly confused and was about to ask Harry another question when the waitress stepped forward to ask if they were ready to order, her gaze looking at Harry in interest. She briefly glanced at Tom and smiled at him. “Is he your son? Such a handsome young man,” she said.

“No, he’s not my son,” Harry replied politely as he then placed his order and asked Tom for his. The little boy kept himself from glaring blatantly at the woman as the floating notepad and quick listed his order down. She sent Harry another smile, causing Tom to bristle. The man seemed oblivious to her advances and merely nodded at her in dismissal before turning back to Tom where his expression all but softened and radiated warmth. It made Tom wonder if Harry wasn’t as blind as he seemed, since his anger melted off him at the attention.

They got through dinner without Tom having to use ‘accidental magic’ on the hags that tried to take Harry’s attention from him. Harry was his.

He had enjoyed the food immensely and asked if Harry would be capable of replicating the dish he just had, to which Harry replied with a grin and a promise to try. They had an impromptu lesson that revolved around wizarding tradition. Harry gave him little tidbits and pointers about the wizards and witches dining in the same restaurant.

Tom was quite lethargic once he finished his meal and had them paid for. Tummy full and satisfied, more than usual. He would honestly still prefer to have stayed home and eaten Harry’s cooking, but it did feel nice to go out with the man and wear fancy robes once in a while. He was getting sleepy and he knew Harry was trying not to snicker at his attempts to not let his eyes droop.

“Come on my little serpent, we need to get you to bed.”

Harry stood from his chair to make his way over to Tom and tripped on something that made him lose his balance. Someone grabbed his arm to steady him just as Tom was about to bolt off his chair to help. He watched Harry blush at his clumsiness and cast the man an apologetic look, one which the man, who looked older than Harry, replied with a malicious smile.

Well, to Tom it looked like so.

“Harry,” he said, going over to him and pointedly ignoring the man who continued to eye his Harry up like food on a plate.

“I’m fine,” he reassured Tom as he stepped away from the stranger. “Thank you and I apologize for my clumsiness, now I best be leaving with my ward,” he said politely, he scooped Tom up into his arms and started to leave. Tom caught the man staring at Harry’s bum while they left.

It made his magic sizzle erratically.

“Calm down love,” Harry said gently, tightening his hold on him.

Tom didn’t like that women, even men, looked at his Harry that way. Harry was his. Harry said so! They have no right to look at him, no right at all! And that vile pig! He’ll pay for touching what was his! He’ll—

His thoughts were interrupted when Harry apparated them.

A groan escaped him, unexpected apparition making him feel a little sick before he forced the feeling down.

“Alright, now, forget those idiots from the restaurant and calm your magic. It’s your birthday Tom. Your birthday! Happy birthday Tom!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, green eyes shining bright and happy and warm.

Tom couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto his face. “You’re ridiculous Harry.”

“And here’s your first present,” Harry continued, kneeling down on one knee to be at Tom’s level. He took something out of his pocket and enlarged it. He handed it to Tom who stared at it. A stuffed animal. A stuffed snake…a stuffed cobra snake. It was green, soft, and as long as his arm. It stared back at him with button eyes and gleaming silver patterns. Tom’s initial thought was to scoff. Scoff and roll his eyes. Toys were for children. He wasn’t a mere child. He was smarter than any child out there. He didn’t need such nonsense that the soft thing in his hands represented. He should have asked for more books or something useful. Not…this stupid, silly, soft, cute…thing—

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, sounding nervous, and when Tom still didn’t reply, he reached for the snake, babbling about getting him something better. But Harry was not successful in taking it from him, because he stepped away and clutched the toy to his chest possessively.

Harry smiled, ruffling his hair. “You’re welcome then. Now, let’s move on to the second part of the gift.” He turned the boy around and watched his expression morph into confusion, eyes suddenly finding his in search for an answer as to why they were in front of someone’s mansion.

“This is our home now. It’s been finished for months now and I decided to wait until your birthday before we finally move in,” he explained. “Come on, let’s go inside so I can show you your new room. The tour can wait until tomorrow if you want. It’s getting pretty close to your bedtime. It’s right next to mine. Like in our old home. It’s way bigger though, I made sure to place a new set of bookshelves for you and our stuff has been transferred by our house elves the moment we left. I’ll introduce you to them in the morning. And don’t worry about the food, I taught them how to cook your favorites. They’ve managed to replicate it perfectly,” Harry rambled on as he held Tom’s hand while they walked the stone path lined by a breath-taking garden that led to the beautiful mansion which stood proudly in front of them.

The moment they entered, Tom was greeted by a lovely staircase curling around the foyer leading to the living space. Harry had designed it simply, combining the future’s minimalistic concepts with the current style. He had used the Peverell money for it all, but it didn’t really leave him a sense of guilt since he was growing their accounts thrice its original size. Gone was the original plan of keeping the cottage look and in its place was the beautiful castle-like mansion that Harry had been busy with for the last couple of months. The muggle builders had been led to believe he was having them build it for entertainment of tourist purposes since the location was pretty incredible for site seeing. Harry had planted spells to keep them from questioning the building and had the construction process sped up. They did a marvelous job, and Harry had enforced his magic on almost every stone used for it, giving the place life.

The place hummed when they entered, a warm feeling that settled on the two wizards as they were welcomed.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked a very quiet Tom, who nodded and tugged at Harry’s hand, his other one still clutching his snake.

Harry knelt and was utterly gobsmacked when Tom placed a kiss on his cheek to show his gratitude.

Little Tom slept in Harry’s room that night, cuddled up in Harry’s arms, feeling incredibly warm in his chest.

The following morning, as promised Tom got a tour right after being introduced to the house elves, Telby and Gobry. Harry had provided a library filled with books from the Peverell vaults and copies of ones from the Hogwarts library. They went through the garden (which was stunningly made by Harry himself), potions lab, kitchen, guest bedrooms, storage room, training room, Harry’s study, dining room, and lastly the private sitting room. Tom was still astounded that this was now their house. Their home. That only half a year ago he was still in the orphanage, desperately fending of vicious bullies and sleeping in a stiff moldy bed. Everything was because of Harry. His Harry.

They went out back and Harry showed him the extensive forest that ominously loomed a few feet away from where the garden trailed off. It was still part of their property up to a certain distance. There was a lake there that was still within their line. Harry thought it would be nice to try skating on it once it froze over. To which Tom wrinkled his nose primly at him in response.

They both settled happily into a routine. Harry didn’t cook meals anymore except for when he was in the mood to, and tutored Tom in the morning until lunch. His afternoons were mainly spent popping in and out of his estates, working with the tenants of the land and supervising progress. He spent time in his potions lab creating a nerve healing potion to treat the effects of the cruciatus curse using notes Severus and his mum had left behind from some of their journals, and sometimes he’s either in his study trying to create new spells or in the training room exercising and desecrating dummy after dummy or practicing runes.

Tome used his afternoons to either study or read from the books he was allowed from the library, or accompany Harry with his work. It was fascinating to be with Harry when he was working. He learned things books don’t and often couldn’t explain. He often got frustrated with the fact that he wasn’t allowed a wand until he was eleven, but he was slowly getting better at wandless magic from Harry’s teaching.

As Tom grew a little older, he became more aware of how powerful a wizard Harry was. Wandless magic as he learned from accompanying Harry around work or on their trips to Diagon Alley, was an extremely rare and difficult way to perform magic. It was only when Tom was seven years old that he truly understood. And Harry still didn’t have his wand. He witnessed it exhaust him sometimes, but it only made the man sleepy, and that’s after performing a multitude of complex spells.

Tom urged Harry to retrieve his wand after they celebrated the man’s birthday. They always celebrated the occasion with Tom doing something thoughtful for Harry in return for all the gifts he receives during his birthdays.

Harry got his wand back the following day, a mischievous smile on his face as he brandished the oddly shaped old stick. Tom didn’t think it was very impressive but at least Harry now had his wand with him.

Tom made him demonstrate spells with it so that he could learn how wand movements applied.

They lived particularly peacefully since they had moved, barely interacting with the wizarding world apart from Harry’s potion brewing and spell auctioning and only keeping up with current events through their subscription from the Daily Prophet.

It was pretty uneventful. Harry had watched Tom mature bit by bit. He expressed his opinions about wizarding issues presented in the Daily Prophet and asked questions and elaborations about certain things. He had an incredibly clever mind and had given simple solutions to problems the wizarding world was tripping themselves over with. Harry had pointed out that it wasn’t providing a solution that was a problem, it was getting everyone to agree and act on it.

The boy’s manners were polished and he often practiced them on Harry who always tried to distract him using sly tickle attacks and silly remarks until the boy broke and chased after a running Harry with mock anger. He was already done with the first year curriculum and that was with Harry trying to slow it down. He didn’t want Tom to end up bored in Hogwarts. He gave Tom peculiar assignments that strayed away from the courses offered in Hogwarts such as wandlore, vampire and werewolf research, goblin history and magic, house-elves… It became easy enough to make him do the homework once he explained his reasons. Harry had already taught him most of the first year materials, and he decided to hold back beyond that. Tom agreed, wanting to enjoy Hogwarts as well.

Harry had submitted two potions under the pseudonym Mors. Death had actually snickered at that. He received a great amount of galleons from the nerve damage reducer along with the eye drop potion for correcting one’s eyesight. The first potion, he devised to be taken every three times in three months to triple his earnings. Only then could the damage of the curse be cured completely. He made sure to appear on the day of its testing with a powerful glamour under a dark green lined hood that made him all the more mysterious. The brewing was complex and the ingredients had some difficult ones to acquire (but seeing as Harry was starting to farm them, it wasn’t all that hard for him). He received a hefty amount and that’s not even counting the money he received for the three spells he developed under the same alias.

He had wondered if he should try developing the more seasoned version of wolfsbane that only required one consumption twelve hours before the transformation in order to lessen the pain immensely and retain one’s mental faculties without the lethargic effects on the body.

It would help the werewolf population immensely since wolfsbane won’t be invented until 1970.

And then, four years later, on one particular night under the full moon, while Harry was on his way to their forest to collect some ingredients, he found a wounded werewolf cub just by the edge of the lake.

Death?

No master, there are no other wolves within the vicinity. This one came from some part up north. He apparated through accidental magic. His old pack, who are responsible for his current wounds, had once settled here temporarily some time ago.

Don’t call me master.

As you wish Harreth.

Harry actually twitched at the horrendous name.

This is not the time to get sassy with me.

Of course master. The boy will live even if you do not tend to his wounds within the hour. He will heal slowly and will be on his merry way after a few days.

Harry ignored that.

What are the damages?

Fractured rib, broken left leg, head injury, and a bitten neck.

Harry acted immediately the moment Death started listing it out for him. The cub wasn’t going to transform any time soon and thank Merlin he was used to treating wolves because of Teddy Lupin and his other trouble-making wolf friends.

He trapped the cub in a time bubble that was three times slower and quickly levitated the body into the house, calling for Tom and his elves.

“What’s going on? Who’s—Is that a werewolf?” Tom said racing down the stairs uncharacteristically.

“Yes, now you’ll need to help me, he’s in terrible shape.”

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Harry was incredibly happy that he had spared some time during his first timeline studying the art of medical magic. He wouldn’t have been much help to the little wolf otherwise. There was so much blood, and the tender mauled skin of his neck had made even Tom turn green, but Harry saw him shake his head determinedly and assisted Harry efficiently. The little boy had read up on healing magic for Harry due to the countless times Harry either limped or bled upon coming back to him after work, or even after just wandering around the house.

It took a good four hours before he managed to finally heal the boy, albeit not completely since he knew that once he changed back into his human form, the injuries would worsen and he’ll be weaker than he was now. Tom looked ready to pass out where he stood, exhausted from it all. He had helped Harry by wandlessly healing the minor cuts and bruises as well as following instructions Harry gave him. It was well past his bedtime and doing that much advanced magic was taking its toll on him. It was the most magic the nine year old had ever used.

Harry caught him when he swayed, having been paying rapt attention to his little soulmate and the injured werewolf. He levitated the wolf and carried Tom in his arms as Telby informed him that the guest bed was now ready.

“Put me down ‘arry…” Tom mumbled sleepily even as he nuzzled into Harry’s neck like a cat.

“Shh…sleep love, you did incredibly well. Been improving on your healing magic, haven’t you?” Harry praised in a hushed tone as he walked over to the guest room and settled the now cleaned and bandaged wolf onto the bed. “Telby, quickly inform me when the wolf wakes up. And prepare some food for him right after, preferably steak, done rare and a little bloody please. I’ll just tuck Tom in for the night now,” he said, the elf who bowed politely and popped away.

Harry set up warming charms wrapped the pup with the soft duvet, bidding him a soft good night. He shifted a dozing Tom in his arms and closed the door behind him. He headed upstairs, marveling at how Tom had grown over the years and how amazing he was earlier. The boy was getting better and better at performing wandless now. Harry couldn’t wait to see how brilliantly he’ll be once he gets his own wand.

He headed straight into his room, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep and cuddle with the boy. Tom had decided when he reached seven that he was no longer a child and will therefore learn to sleep on his own instead of sneaking into Harry’s room from time to time. He sometimes slips up by falling asleep in the library or in Harry’s study, giving Harry the chance to take him into his room to hold him while they slept. Tom never really complained in the morning. And Harry had, more than once, caught him cuddling closer to him when he thought he woke up earlier than Harry.

He laid them both down and pulled the covers over them with practiced ease. Tom sighed contently in his sleep and Harry held him close before drifting off into unconsciousness.

“Mr. Harry sir, wolfie’s awake now. Gobry’s in the kitchen preparing his meal.”

Harry yawned sleepily, telling Telby to prepare some clothes for the wolf before she disappeared. He glanced down at a sleeping Tom. He summoned his snake stuffed toy, the one that Tom kept under his pillow. The boy refused to admit that he still sleeps with it at night and uses it to calm himself down whenever he gets anxious while Harry’s away.

Tom tended to make a small whimper every time Harry tries to leave him alone in bed and always calms down almost immediately after Harry gave him the snake, making Harry chuckle and press down a kiss on his cheek.

Casting a quick freshening charm on himself, Harry directly apparated in front of the guest room, giving a light knock to signify his arrival before he carefully opened the door. His eyes immediately met guarded midnight black ones the moment he stepped inside.

“Good morning,” Harry greeted politely, undeterred by the increasingly hostile stare. The boy was probably in more pain now than when he was a wolf, having shifted with all those injuries. So far, Harry wondered how the boy will let him treat him. He wasn’t going to get any better staring Harry down.

“Look, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re already in enough pain as it is and the wounds and bones I fixed last night are most likely in scrambles from your transformation. I need to take a look at them and fix what needs to be fixed. Now you’ll either cooperate, or I’ll have to stun you and knock you out to do the procedure,” Harry explained, standing in front of the snarling child. He made a move to go closer and watched as the boy tensed and flinched at the pain that must’ve rippled through his body from the action alone. “Calm down cub, it’s okay I—“

The bow swiped at him, making his hand bleed.

Harry continued advancing on him, unfazed by the pain. He’s had worse. “I really don’t want to stun you. I’d prefer it if you were awake while I fix you up.”

When the boy growled at him again and moved to claw at his face, he caught his wrist and lunged, pushing him down and cringing at the howl of pain that resulted from the tumble.

Harry took advantage of the physical contact and started directly moving his magic around the boy’s skin, letting it skitter around to check his condition. Most of the wounds had opened up and he had ruined what work he did on his ribs last night. What’s worse was that he also had a burning fever.

The child tried to thrash even in his pain just to throw Harry off but Harry was having none of that. Instead, he sighed impatiently and wandlessly put the boy’s body to sleep while leaving his consciousness awake. Eyes widened in panic and outrage. Harry merely rolled his eyes at him and quickly got back to work. “You wouldn’t calm down. You’re feverish and horribly injured, I can’t treat you if you don’t let me.”

At the eyes that glared at him he sighed, “Do shut up kid, I don’t care if you don’t want my help. You apparated into my property half dead. Healing you wasn’t an easy task. Now, you can leave right after I’m sure you’ve healed completely, but not during. I’m going to put you to sleep now. And once you wake up, there’ll be food waiting for you by your bedside. Eat it. Don’t worry about poison and all that toss. Just eat. You need all the energy you can get. If you don’t, I’ll force feed you,” Harry threatened mildly, grinning when those eyes blazed but swirled with confusion at the same time. He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, holding back a chuckle when those eye closed involuntarily. “Ask me all the questions you want once you’ve woken up.” And with that he put him to sleep.

A soft sigh escaped Harry as he listed the number of things he was supposed to do for the boy and organized them.

How old is this boy?

He’s eleven, about to turn twelve on the fifteenth of May.

Hmm…so older than Tom by three years. What happened with his old pack? Why would they harm a child? Harry asked as he worked. The boy wasn’t as skinny as Tom had been when he found him, but he wasn’t exactly healthy either. He already had a number of scars littered around his body. He was a little bit taller than even the normal twelve year old, with gangly limbs and a mop of black hair.

The boy disobeyed their alpha and during the punishment, he fought back.

Harry instructed Gobry, who popped in with the boy’s meal, to get his medical kit. What’s his name? He must be a wizard if he can apparate such a great distance.

Half blood. His name is Fenrir Greyback.

Harry almost dropped the vial in his hand. WHAT?

Oh yes master. You are tending the wounds of someone who can become the most vicious werewolf in wizarding history.

And you didn’t think that was something you could’ve mentioned earlier?

He could practically feel Death’s smile as he replied, You never asked.

“You’re worse than Tom,” Harry grumbled as he kept working. He had already brought out his wand once he was dealing with Greyback’s ribs, his mind pondering over the fact that he had Remus’ sire in his house. Greyback was more of a monster than Tom had been, biting children and creating his own werewolf army. He was someone who had gladly joined Voldemort’s forces for the opportunity to kill and gain power. A bloodthirsty animal who discarded his morals and lived for himself.

And yet Harry wasn’t even thinking about killing the child. He wasn’t that monster yet. And if he ever tried, Harry would kill him without even batting an eye. Simple as that. This Greyback was a child. Harry easily discarded the Greyback from his time and focused on the idea of this younger one.

“Harry?”

He didn’t even look as he greeted Tom, “Hello Tom, have you eaten?” he tipped the vial in his hand and supported the cub’s head as he made him swallow.

“Have you?” Tom fired back smoothly as he walked over to where Harry was, surveying the cub critically. “How is he?”

“I’ve fixed most of the damage he did from the transformation. But he’s still too weak to do anything for at least a day or two. Lycanthropy will heal him faster so we need not worry now.”

“Shall I wait for you in the dining room?” Tom asked as he moved to the door.

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing Tom wouldn’t eat just because Harry hadn’t yet either. The roles of parent and child were reversing more often than not now that Tom was nine.

“No need to wait there, I’m almost done here anyway,” Harry replied. He spelled the clothes Telby had prepared onto the sleeping child and left to eat with Tom.

Now seated at the table, Harry thanked Gobry and Telby, as did Tom and started eating their food. “How long will he stay with us?” Tom asked, making Harry paus mid-bite. “As long as he needs. I reckon less than a week. He wasn’t exactly pleased with me earlier.” He only then remembered the deep scratches on his hand and started healing them. He missed the way Tom’s eyes flashed dangerously at the sight.

To Tom, Harry was completely his. His smile, his skin, his voice, his eyes, his soul…Harry was his. And to think that filthy cub dared to—

“Tom, no. Stop it,” Harry said firmly. “You will not harm him. He’s a guest. He’s a werewolf, and you know how badly his kind are treated by ours. You cannot blame him for feeling threatened in front of me.”

“But he hurt you,” Tom hissed, eyes narrowing angrily, reminding Harry of the last time someone tried to harm him. It was during a little shopping trip they had in Knockturn Alley. Harry was trying to track down the Slytherin locket without having to rely on Death who was growing more and more amused at him every sodding day. Some idiot thought it would be easy to hurt him and had tried to steal his gold. Harry wanted to laugh in his face. But when Tom, seven years old, had found him at wandpoint by some filth, Tom had lashed out with his magic and nearly killed the man after sending a slash of pure energy similar to a cutting hex.

“He will not be harmed, Tom. We took him in. Healed him. You helped me heal him. And if he harms me, I can very well get back at him without your help. And you know that,” Harry responded evenly although he still found it incredibly endearing that Tom acted the way he does for him.

“And if he harms me?” Tom asked curtly.

“Then defend yourself however you see fit. I’ll kick him out if he ever dared anyway,” Harry shrugged, earning a disapproving look from Tom at the act. “How many times have I told you to stop with that infernal gesture? It’s disgustingly plebian.”

“Oh Tom, my snotty little brat,” Harry sang making Tom bristle in indignation. “Why do you think I keep doing it?”

“To spite me,” Tom spat.

“Maybe,” Harry laughed, leaning in to give a quick peck at the now sputtering Tom. He rarely got away with it anymore. Tom growing up meant less cuddles and more boring adult talks.

“Harry!” Tom yelled after him as he left the dining room, the boy’s face a pretty red.

Fenrir woke up to the smell of food. His consciousness swam back sluggishly into his body, leaving him very aware of places that felt better than they ever did when he first woke up. It tingled pleasantly against his skin, that residue of magic that was performed on him. He wanted to growl, to be angry, but all he was at the moment was hungry, and just as the green-eyed wizard promised, there was food right on his bedside table, kept warm and fresh by a spell obviously. He wondered at first if they put something in it. But then decided against it. He was hungry. And his lycanthropy will help fight off whatever concoction they laced the delicious-looking piece of meat that was waiting for him to—

Fenrir devoured his food, wondering when was it last that he ate something so good and felt so full right after. The wizard seemed to have known exactly what would tickle his taste buds. The meat was cooked rare and bloody but seasoned wonderfully. His pack never gave him the good parts when they ate, always leaving it to that selfish alpha who didn’t do anything for anyone but himself.

He tentatively stretched, wondering how long he had slept. His bones creaked and he winced as he discovered the places that still felt stiff and sore. He let out a soft groan afterwards, settling down. He noticed the neatly folded clothes at the end of the bed. Surveying his surroundings, much like he did the first time but now with a clearer head, he realized that the wizard he took him was…rich. The bed was softer than anything he ever slept in and the obviously expensive furnishings of the room he was in was enough of a giveaway.

He chucked the silk pajamas he was wearing and carefully put on the clothes, softly sighing at the nice feel of freshly washed fabric against his skin. They didn’t often take baths and usually stunk until they found a nice river or lake to bathe in. 

He sniffed himself, making a face as he smelled the green-eyed wizard on him.

Someone came in through the door and Fenrir leapt back, baring his teeth. A small boy with pale skin and dark hair studied him critically, clearly unafraid. The little boy didn’t have a wand, making Fenrir relax slightly.

“I see you’re awake,” the boy spoke in a clear aristocratic voice, confident and intimidating. Fenrir narrowed his eyes at him and straightened. He wasn’t going to be afraid of some kid who was smaller and obviously younger than him.

The boy uncrossed his arms and turned around to head back out but not before saying, “Come, Harry wants to talk to you,” he said with an annoyed sigh.

Fenrir guessed that Harry was the green-eyed one.

“Who are you?” he asked as they left the room he was in.

“It’s impolite to ask for a name before introducing your own.” The boy rolled his eyes as he said it. Fenrir had half a mind to smack him upside down.

“Fenrir Greyback,” he replied in a clipped snarling tone that didn’t affect the boy who merely nodded and replied while never even sparing him a glance. “Tom Marvolo Gaunt. The person you’ll meet is Harry. Harry Peverell. The one you oh so stupidly clawed at like a bloody—“

Someone suddenly appeared behind Tom, arms wrapping around the child’s torso and lifting him off the ground so suddenly that Fenrir jumped in surprise. It was the green-eyed wizard, Harry. And he now carried Tom bridal style.

“Harry! Put me down this instant!” Tom shrieked with as much dignity as he could, making Fenrir snort at the blush on his flustered and angry face.

“No, you were being a horrible host to our guest,” Harry laughed winking at Fenrir. Normally Fenrir could easily despise wizards and their ugly kind, but he found that Harry was…different. He didn’t smell like a wizard. He smelled odd. And his eyes glowed with power beneath the mess of hair on his head.

Tom stopped struggling and glowered at Harry, who smiled back with so much obvious fondness that it made Fenrir uncomfortable. Is that how one was supposed to look at their child? Was Tom Harry’s? No, they smelled too different to be related. Adopted then? But then their last names weren’t the same. But still, the way Harry looked at him, and even the way Tom glowered…it was odd.

“Hello…uh—“ Harry started as he turned to him, making Fenrir stiffen at being the subject under those eyes. His instincts told him he was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. He couldn’t believe he missed that during his first encounter with the man.

“Fenrir Greyback,” Tom supplied for him with an exasperated sigh sounding so much older than he looked.

Harry pecked him, making him sputter and swat him away as best he could while trapped in Harry’s arms.

“Hello Fenrir. How are you feeling?”

Fenrir kept staring, trying to find out why, what reason Harry had to just heal him and tend to him like he did. Wizards feared and hated werewolves. They viewed them as abominations of nature. They shunned them and were constantly cruel. What made Harry different? Was he really different?

“Judging from the way you’re already on your feet, I’m assuming you’re well,” Harry resumed undeterred.

“Will you put me down now?” Tom grumbled primly.

“What’s the magic word?” Harry teased earning a deadpanned look. He pouted, looking incredibly young compared to the intimidating figure that he was when Fenrir woke up. He watched Harry set Tom down, who dusted himself off and stood gracefully in between them.

“You’re no fun nowadays,” Harry shook his head with a smile.

“Someone ought to grow up between the two of us,” Tom said, giving Harry a knowing look.

Fenrir was wondering what the hell fate thought when she put him here with these strange wizards.

But as Fenrir thought of this, Harry turned back to him with a sunny smile, “Come Fenrir, we’ll give you a tour of the house.”

Fenrir was pretty sure they put something in his food because he found himself following Harry curiously.

Merlin what has he gotten himself into.

Chapter Text

“And this is the library. You may read anything you can touch, as long as you take care of the books and parchments,” Harry said as they walked into the impressively large room full of shelves lined with books. Fenrir had never really been to a library. They hadn’t had one, those people that had abandoned him for what he became. And his old pack didn’t exactly go anywhere near civilization. And although he was part of the pack that stole from villages and towns, he stole mostly medicine, salt, and other small necessities while the older wolves handled the bigger loads.

He felt uncomfortably out of place. Even the clothes he wore felt too clean compared to the rags he was used to wearing in the woods. They were usually caked in dirt and sweat, washed only from time to time. The roof over his head made him want to bolt, used to the open view of the sky and the free breeze, not the overwhelming feel of the ceiling caving in, looming over him...

This Harry person seemed to pick up on his discomfort because he skipped a couple of stops where Fenrir glimpsed some kind of room full of…dummies? And another one that looked like a classroom. The boy named Tom didn’t speak the entire time, seemingly sulking next to Harry while they were led from room to room.

And then Harry brought them out into the garden and Fenrir breathed in relief before he gazed in awe.

“This is my work of art!” Harry announced proudly before laughing and admitting that of course Telby and Gobry had helped him. Tom just rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the benches. “You can come out here whenever you want, I mean you can pretty much go anywhere in the manor except for Tom’s room and the elves’. And of course the woods are entirely free reign,” Harry explained.

Fenrir immediately narrowed his eyes at the implication. “Whoever said I was staying?”

“No one. I told you before that you’re allowed to leave if you want to. But if you don’t have anywhere to go for now and want to rest, then we—“ At Tom’s delicate cough Harry rolled his eyes, “I mean I don’t mind you staying. So you can stay. We don’t particularly care about the fact that you’re a werewolf. My godfather’s best friend was a werewolf. And he was also my teacher.”

Fenrir could not help but become incredibly suspicious. It was just so rare, and to run into the kind of people who didn’t look at his kind as if they were nothing but dirt on their shoes. He cast a glance at Tom and Harry shook his head. Before Harry could say anything, Tom crossed his arms, looking threatening despite the difference in their heights and their age. Fenrir knew the kid was easily capable of cruelty. “I don’t care whether you’re a wizard, squib, vampire, veela or werewolf. You harm Harry again and I’ll kill you.”

Fenrir bristled at the threat before realizing the very small acceptance of his kind was laced somewhere in the statement, making him cock his head in bafflement at the two wizards. They were powerful. Even the little one who didn’t have a wand yet. The boy still leaked magic. And Fenrir knew he knew how to use it.

And then there was Harry.

He didn’t ooze any magic. In fact, Fenrir could only faintly smell it from him. But when the man directed his attention to you…it was as if you were being held at wand point. As if the moment you push him over the edge, you’d be done. He held it all. His magic was contained and completely under his control. And then there was his scent.

Harry smelled like death.

It wasn’t like rotting flesh or cold corpses. It was difficult to explain or put into words. Fenrir has an exceptional sense of smell, more so than any of the other wolves in the pack. And Harry…he smelled like the last breath of life. That moment where it’s done. Fenrir could say it was more of a magical sense that pertained to the scent but that was exactly how Harry smelled like. Except with the faint traces of…lilies?

He paused when he realized he’d been using their first names.

“Anyway, all I’m saying is, you’re free to stay here if you want. But you’re also free to leave whenever. It’s your choice,” Harry continued smiling at him casually, as if he wasn’t just offering his home to a werewolf.

Fenrir nodded without saying a word.

Living with the two odd wizards was…strange. Fenrir honestly didn’t expect anything out of staying. He ate in his room and spent most of his time outside or wandering around the hallways. He liked the food, Harry always made sure to include him in the meals and never failed to invite him to the table, but Fenrir still felt like he was intruding, which he knew he was. Tom barely spared him a glance. He gave Fenrir small nods of greeting when they pass each other in the hallways. But they never spoke to each other. Tom seemed perfectly content to leave him alone while he conducted whatever business he was up to.

Harry on the other hand, was a handful. Everyday he greeted Fenrir with delight, as if seeing Fenrir was a nice thing to happen in his day. He always tried to draw him into conversations, and failed miserably. He never seemed to falter with his smile, as if he knew Fenrir meant no harm by glaring, growling, or baring his teeth at him. It sometimes made Harry’s grin grow but he’d back off slightly and leave him alone.

After a week of this, Harry managed to get him to sit on the table. The man, who looked too young and could easily pass of as the boy’s older brother, beamed in delight before quickly simmering down as if trying not to scare him away. They said nothing about how he used his hands to shovel food into his mouth or the mess he made after. They did make him clean after himself though much to his irritation and shame.

A few days later, he got Fenrir to take a bath after brewing the boy’s scentless soap for him. It seemed Harry had figured out why he avoided bathing and chose to dunk himself in their lake instead. Fenrir relented grudgingly. He was not used to being very clean. It made him squirm but it was starting to feel really nice too. He still liked the smell of the earth on him but the soap made it possible to have it while being clean. Plus it was easier to go along with Harry’s whims. He had been petrified and dumped into the bathtub full of rainbow sparkles and had been bathed spotless by a grinning Harry humming some children’s lullaby. Tom had stepped in during the event and actually looked at Fenrir with pity before walking away.

Fenrir willingly took baths just to avoid the incident from ever repeating.

And then there were the clothes. Fenrir didn’t know how the wizard managed to get his sizes but he now had piles of clothes that filled his wardrobe. They were mostly just slacks and shirts, even a couple of muggle shirts and jeans among the pile of wizarding clothes. It made him feel weird. And a little miffed. He wasn’t staying here forever. Harry should stop wasting his money. It made him feel like a piece of shit, taking advantage of this rare kindness.

But was it kindness? Was there really no motive behind it. Even with the two’s reassurance, he couldn’t help it. He was a werewolf. His own family left him to die because of what he is. He spent most of his life running and doing anything to survive. He’d experienced what it’s like to go without food for days. To be beaten and spat at for trying to live. People just didn’t offer their wealthy homes, feed you, dress you, and welcome you the way Harry did, and somehow Tom.

They just didn’t. It wasn’t right. It was bizarre. And yet here they were. Doing exactly that.

“Do you want to join us for Tom’s lessons?” Harry asked, stopping him mid chew.

Fenrir stared at him. He still didn’t speak much. Only answering with short replies and small nods. But every time he did respond, Harry looked so damn pleased that Fenrir gets incredibly embarrassed.

“I just thought you’d like to learn. I assume you’ve not been given an education,” Harry shrugged, passing one of the condiments to Tom. The boy was listening with disinterest, and Fenrir suspected that Harry must’ve told the boy beforehand so as to ensure he wouldn’t throw a fit because anything involving having to share Harry’s attention made the boy twitch for a tantrum.

“Plus it’s not like you have anything else to do in your time. And you won’t have to worry about homework, it’s up to you if you want to do them or not. Same with the participation. I like to think my class, which only really consist of Tom and I, is interesting enough to hold your attention. I only ask for you to listen,” Harry went on.

Fenrir didn’t reply. But found himself joining their lessons anyway, making Harry nod in approval.

Harry had adjusted their lesson, he suspected, so that Fenrir can understand while not irritating Tom, who was something of a little monster. The boy could memorize lines from a book with one single sitting, and he answered Harry’s questions confidently. They were discussing potion ingredients and their properties, and Fenrir didn’t ever think he’d be able to understand it but the information sunk in, making him wonder if Harry was really just that good or if they put something in his food.

And then out of the blue, Tom tilted to the side, and Fenrir caught a blue string of light zap by, missing the child barely. Tom licked his lips and sent the same thing to Harry who grinned and side-stepped.

What in the…?

This went on in random intervals during the entire lesson. And everything was wandless. Harry later explained, after seeing the perplexed look on his face, that he often sent Tom little stinging hexes to sharpen his reflexes, to which Tom shook his head and scoffed saying Harry just wanted to play. And it honestly sounded more believable than Harry’s reason.

Fenrir didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to learn.

He didn’t how or was it inevitable, for him to just fall into place, swept away by their pace. He didn’t realize how he now had a routine. One that involved waking up, showering, attending classes, and using the rest of the day for practicing with wandless magic that he thought would have been impossible for him. He actually…liked living with Harry. Tom had even spoken to him as well, asking questions about lycanthropy and which facts from the books were flawed. Tom didn’t really seem to have a problem with his presence. And he only ever really got mad at him whenever Harry attempted to give Fenrir a hug, which he adamantly refused. His refusal didn’t deter the man though, and there were...multiple attempts. He managed to avoid most but the successful ones made his senses go haywire from the killing intent the scary little boy directed at him. Fenrir didn’t think jealousy could have a scent but Tom proved him wrong.

It made Fenrir wonder what was really the relationship between the two. Harry looked at Tom like he was everything. Like he was the most important person to him. And Tom, he didn’t look at Harry the same way, it was possessive but also warm, just not as intense as Harry. They didn’t act like parent and child. It was more intimate than that.

Harry liked to touch Tom. A hug, a hair-ruffle, a peck, anything he could get away with. He cuddled the boy endlessly while Tom pretended to be annoyed yet gave in every time.

Fenrir fit in somehow. They treated him like he was supposed to be there now. Harry gets a kick out of making him squirm under the affection he enjoys giving him. That and he loved making Tom jealous. Tom seemed resigned to his stay but he also stopped rolling his eyes at him after they had a long little debate about magical creatures. He seemed to have unwittingly earned the boy’s respect.

And Fenrir almost forgot about the full moon.

“Just take the potion Fen,” Harry said with a sigh.

“What does it do?” He asked gruffly, his fists clenched at his side while stared at the ground nervously.

“I already told you, it will make your transformation painless and you’ll be able to keep your consciousness. The wolf will be there. But in the end it’s still you who’s in charge,” Harry said shoving the potion in his hands.

“But…” Fenrir said guardedly. No one’s ever created a potion to help his kind. No one. There were already werewolves that fell victim to potion mishaps from the false ray of hope they were offered.

“Fen, just take it. You’ll be fine. I made it myself. It’s been tested and proven effective already. A friend of mine was able to turn into a wolf and walk into the house without a problem. He could recognize and understand us,” Harry said a little more gently. He crouched in front of him and smiled. “I made it so that the transformation will be similar to an animagus transformation, we tackled that the other day remember?”

Fenrir pursed his lips and nodded, staring at the potion unsurely.

“Drink Greyback,” Tom muttered from where he lounged with a thick book on his lap. “Harry doesn’t lie about these things.”

“But you can be wrong,” Fenrir whispered hoarsely.

“Fenrir,” Harry said, “It’s going to be okay. Just take the potion.”

“Why didn’t you bring this out to the ministry? Why—“

“Do you think they’d make this easily available for you? The ingredients aren’t easy to obtain. The process is a little too complex for werewolves who’ve not even gone near a cauldron before. It will only bring me money while the ones I made the potion for are deprived of a solution that’s withheld from them. It’s completely stupid. I’m still trying to find a simpler alternative.”

There was a long moment before Fenrir tipped back the vial and drank the surprisingly mild substance down. He expected it to be sticky and taste horrid but it was unexpectedly…bland. Like it barely tasted like anything.

“Good. Now, Tom, you’re free to visit us in the woods later. But I’d rather you go to bed,” Harry hummed, stretching.

Tom froze, eyes narrowing at Harry, “What do you mean ‘us’?” Fenrir stared at Harry in puzzlement.

“I’m coming with him of course,” Harry said simply, rolling his shoulders.

“Harry!” both Tom and Fenrir shouted in alarm.

“Relax. Fenrir won’t hurt me. The potion will just change his form, but he’ll still just be Fenrir.” Harry grinned cheekily, “Besides, I’m not joining him as I am now. My dad and his friends used to keep Remus, the werewolf teacher I told you about, company during full moons. It’s tradition.”

And before either could get in another word of protest, Harry started to morph into…a fully grown wolf.

Fenrir stepped back in surprise while Tom stood up in shock, toppling the book off his lap carelessly. The wolf sat down, looming over Tom. He had thick black fur and bright green eyes that seemed to glow knowingly at Tom. “You never told me you were an animagus!” Tom huffed, angry enough to stomp his foot down childishly.

Harry licked his cheek, making him sputter. “Harry!” The wolf didn’t stop there and pounced on Tom, albeit making sure the boy wouldn’t get hurt. His tail wagged slightly, while he affectionately nuzzled and licked a squirming Tom who looked even smaller under the beast.

“Fine fine! I’m not mad!” Tom yelled desperately trying to hide the laughter threatening to seep through his voice. “But you HAVE to teach me how to become one!” He said insistently, scratching behind Harry’s ears, making the wolf’s eyes close and his tail wag in delight. He slumped down, completely trapping Tom under his weight. The boy grunted but wrapped his arms around the furry monster.

Fenrir snickered.

“Not a word Greyback,” Tom snapped without looking.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Harry went back. To the time when he was fresh out of battle, with all the deaths hanging over his head. It was during then that the wand he’d broken and the ring he thought he’d left in the forest found him. Haunted him. He had tried to lay low. But there were so many things that needed to be done. Hogwarts was a mess, so many injured, so many mourning. Even old Mr. Filch looked so distressed, desperately trying to clean and sweep. Harry hadn’t paid attention back then, relief washing over him like warm honey. He helped rebuild Hogwarts, spoke for the Malfoys and the Slytherins, he attended so many funerals and heard and felt so much grief. He had focused on everyone else that he neglected himself. And once the amount of work and responsibility decreased, Harry fell. He felt like he had truly lost his soul when he died. He didn’t know who he was. He went ten years known as boy or freak. Then he was Harry Potter, the boy-who- lived, Gryffindor’s golden boy, the savior, the chosen one. He was never given the time to be himself. To be just Harry.

So once Voldemort was gone, Harry fell into his own abyss of depression. It crawled from whatever black hole left inside him and spread outward, numbing his skin and filling him with a strong sense of loss and silence.

He stayed away from his friends for almost an entire year, lying about leaving the country but instead staying at Grimmauld Place, crying himself to sleep, looking for some sort of closure he couldn’t find. He watched and rewatched the deaths he witnessed. Cedric’s, Sirius’, Dobby’s, the students at Hogwarts lining the Great Hall, Remus, Tonks…It took so long before Harry got over it. So long to find himself. To stop letting himself take all the blame.

His friends were moving on without him. Ron stayed with his family to help each other recover and accepted the offer to train as an Auror. Hermione had left to find her parents and managed to track them three months later. She went back to Hogwarts to finish her NEWTs and later on work for the ministry. Neville claimed his lordship and was apprenticing under Professor Sprout. Malfoy was under house arrest with a dead reputation and dwindling amount of gold. The ministry had confiscated their money to use to repair some of the damage of the war. Luna took over the Quibbler and went on to study and train to be a healer. George ran the joke shop without Fred. Andromeda took custody of little Teddy. Ginny became a professional Quidditch player.

And then there was Harry.

He didn’t want to be an auror.

He didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts, not when everything was still so fresh.

He didn’t want to be a celebrity.

He didn’t want to be a hero.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

Until he touched the Hallows.

Death became his consultant. Death became his shoulder to lean on.

And somehow Harry managed to get back on his feet and try to live. Even after the massive tantrum he threw after finding out about his immortality, how time had stopped for him, how he wasn’t human anymore, about not being given a choice once again. He was in denial, and he was rebelling against it with all he had until he got too tired. He wanted to be happy. Wanted to feel the peace his friends felt.

So he started spending time with them again. He cleaned up Grimmauld with Kreacher. He bought books and started studying again, trying to find something he wanted. Only then realizing how lacking his stay at Hogwarts was due to a madman always on his tail. He visited Luna at St. Mungo’s and subscribed to the Quibbler. He owled Neville regularly and became the best godfather to Teddy. He also returned Draco’s wand.

Draco became one of his closest friends after he gave him Snape’s portrait so that he can apprentice for Potion. Harry had apologized and begged Snape for it, Draco later found out. In return Draco taught Harry how to make money, the pureblood culture, and the games of upper society. Harry helped him rebuild the Manor and regain at least a third of what their wealth was before the war within a year. And Draco restored it after finishing his Potions Masters with a debuting potion stronger than polyjuice and another for therapeutic psychological disorders.

Draco became friends with his circle and Harry was accepted by Blaise and Pansy as well.

Harry went back to Hogwarts five years later to teach Defense.

He taught for years. Children and grandchildren of his friends becoming his students until he took over as head master when Mcgonagall retired. He hid behind a glamour everyday, fooling everyone except Luna. Children of their children even looked older than him at one point and when finally all of his friends were dead and gone, Harry faked his end. And the loneliness crept in again.

“Harry.”

Fenrir stretched after a good round with the dummies from the training room, still marveling at the way the wand fit him so well. Harry had taken him and Tom to buy his wand. The younger boy looked on sourly but was fascinated by the processing of buying a wand nonetheless. Fenrir had grinned at him teasingly, earning a haughty sniff and a cold shoulder for the rest of the week before Fenrir tried to make peace and offered to let him use it.

And boy was Tom terrifying with a wand.

He glanced at the boy to his left, hand outstretched and aimed at the dummy. A flick of his wrist and an explosion of red light shot straight at the poor dummy. He panted lightly while Fenrir knew his knees would’ve buckled by then. Harry had started teaching him wandless magic a few months after he agreed to stay. It’s been a year since he wandered in their property, bleeding all over their land. And Fenrir has never had such easy full moons. The potion was bloody brilliant.

Tom straightened and cast a wandless freshening charm lazily and Fenrir smiled when Tom raised a brow. Fenrir never did.

He left first and passed by the library to look at more spells he could try out and also start on the paper Harry assigned them this morning. But then he paused in his pace, eyes zoning in on the lost dazed look on Harry’s face as the man sat by the window in one of the cushions.

Fenrir has caught Harry like this a few times before, and he never really knew what to do. Harry didn’t respond to anything and his magic was…cold. The scent of death thick in the air around him.

He felt Tom brush past him quietly, walking towards the man and stopping in front.

It was a familiar scene. One that happened every time Harry lapsed into one of his moments.

So Fenrir already expected it when Tom touched his cheeks and said, “Harry.”

The fog glazing his eyes cleared and he focused on Tom. “Hi Tom,” he said roughly before Tom wrapped his arms around his neck and Harry returned the hug, burying his face in Tom’s shoulder.

For the rest of the day, Harry couldn’t keep himself from hugging Tom and Fenrir. He ruffled their hair, poked their sides, pecked their cheeks and draped himself over their backs.

Tom had explained to him that Harry needed as much physical affection as they can give him. They needed to just let him be all cuddly and Harry will be back to normal the following day. His ‘moments’ were getting less and less compared to when it was their first few years living together, said Tom.

Now though, Harry changed into his wolf form and followed Tom around, unwilling to go check on his investments and properties like he always did. He played with Fenrir by chasing him around the manor, and they even managed to drag the boring Tom into the game as well.

The following day, Harry was back to normal.

“Why does that happen?” Fenrir asked Tom.

Tom pursed his lips. “Harry’s very old. And I mean old. He’s lived through a lot of things and he sometimes misses his friends.”

“How old is he?” Fenrir asked looking down on the boy who only reached up to his shoulder. Tom was by no means small. He was actually tall for a ten-year-old. But Fenrir was just a really big person. So even at twelve turning thirteen he was a very tall boy. He would pass as fifteen year old, or so Harry says.

“I’m not sure. He hates thinking about it. Makes him feel the years more he says,” Tom snorted.

“So he’s more or less permanently eighteen. Or was it seventeen. He let it slip when we were talking about birthdays,” Fenrir shrugged. “I don’t think I’d like to live as long as him. But given my werewolf genes, I’ll probably outlive most people anyway.”

“You’ll most likely pollute the earth with your devil spawns while you’re at it,” Tom drawled.

“Brat. You really have a talent with pissing people off,” Fenrir huffed good naturedly, already used to the snark. He already knew Tom was a sweet boy underneath, thanks to Harry anyway. And not once did he ever tell or hint Fenrir to leave. The worst spat they’ve ever had was the time when Tom couldn’t achieve his animagus form with Harry explaining that it may be too much of a burden on a developing body. He’d sulked and stomped during the next full moon, glaring daggers at Fenrir for the fact that he gets to hog Harry all to himself the entire night. Such a selfish brat, Fenrir thought. They’d traded insults and Tom sent hexes at him wandlessly while Fenrir growled, bared his teeth and was about to claw his eyes out when they both froze. Harry walked around their still forms and hummed, taking one hand from both and making them hold hands while their eyes bugged out in anger and exasperation at Harry who left them like that for over an hour.

Since then, they learned to tolerate each other. And later on learned that they actually can get along. Tom had someone other than Harry to debate with and explain some of his theories and discoveries with. Plus, Tom had deemed him intelligent enough to actually keep up. And Fenrir just claimed Tom as the cub of the pack. A little overbearing sometimes but still a cub deep inside. Besides, watching Harry tease the boy was immensely fun.

“I know. Sad that it’s so easy to read people,” Tom smirked.

“People huh?” Fenrir raised a brow. “So far, I’ve noticed that the only actual interactions you have are with me, Harry, and the house elves. Big claims for someone with such a little world.”

Tom paused, narrowing his eyes at him. “I have gone out before.”

“Not enough,” Fenrir sang.

“Stop that. You’re starting to sound like Harry,” Tom tsk-ed.

Fenrir just grinned some more. It ended up with them asking Harry to bring them out in Diagon Alley where Harry played scorer for their performances in deceiving the poor wizarding masses.

“Fen, do you want to attend Hogwarts?” Harry asked as he snipped at Fenrir’s hair.

“What?” Fenrir asked dumbly.

“Hogwarts. I actually wanted to ask you a few months ago but I keep getting…side-tracked,” he said with a sheepish smile over the floating mirror he conjured in front of them while he gave the boy a haircut. He’d grown fond of Harry, much to the man’s delight. He was a rowdy fella, rough and clever, blunt and mostly quiet. He liked to rile Tom up with challenges that they’d later actually discuss surprisingly like adults. Fenrir’s bedroom now had a tall wide window and an enchanted ceiling so that he didn’t lose his mind from being surrounded by walls with a ceiling looming over his head. They’d usually find him lying down in the garden, reading his homework or practicing magic with pebbles and leaves. He likes to watch Harry tend to the garden, much like Tom did when he made potions and transfiguration. Both of them liked to watch him practice on dummies, asking questions about the spells he used, treating it as another lesson.

Harry was pleased to see that Fenrir was becoming fond of Tom who would deny it with every fiber of his being that he felt the same. But the way he stayed up with them every full moon and the way he actually liked to sometimes pet Fenrir was proof enough.

“Anyway, so what do you think? I’ve copies of the books you’ll need and from my tutoring since you’ve joined our lessons, you’ll no doubt be a bit more advanced than the rest of your batch. So no need to worry about that,” Harry hummed, focusing on styling Fen’s hair right.

The little wolf gaped at him, sputtering, “Harry, I know you and Tom are just incredibly isolated from the rest of the wizarding world, and for good reasons too since majority of them are way up their own arses and are painfully stupid, but you couldn’t have bloody forgotten that I’m a werewolf.”

Harry snickered. “You sounded like Tom.”

Fenrir smiled dryly. “Brat’s been lecturing me with the way I talk. Said I sound like an empty headed thug. Which I am not,” he grunted, losing conviction through said grunt.

Harry shook his head, amused by the image of the scene. Tom was currently napping in his room, a habit he developed after Harry told him how he wished he remain his small baby Tom forever. The boy was now going through all means to make sure he grows taller than Harry.

“They allowed my friend Remus to attend, and even teach after he already graduated, why wouldn’t they allow you?”

“What year did they allow him to attend?” Fenrir asked shrewdly.

Harry pouted. “1971…”

Fenrir blinked, not expecting an actual year, and not one that was 40 years from now. Tom mentioned that Harry had lived a long life before finding him, but he never mentioned that he was from the future.

“Yeah, well, they were probably more accepting by then. But they aren’t now,” Fenrir grumbled.

“Then we won’t tell them. It’s not like you’re in any danger of being discovered. The potion ensures smooth transformation, no pain, no aches except for exhaustion,” Harry hummed.

Fenrir glared though it more due to disbelief than anything. “I’ll get exhausted. I need the whole day to sleep—“

“Skip class then. I’m sure you’ll be fine. And there are other ways to be able to attend without exhausting yourself,” Harry mused thinking of the time-turners he made after spending an entire six months studying the one he stole.

“But…” Fenrir said, trying to look for an excuse.

“You don’t want to?” Harry asked, genuinely curious rather than disappointed.

“It’s not that… It’s just… If someone finds out, I’ll get killed,” He said in a hoarse whisper.

Harry laid a hand on his shoulder while the other one ran through the boy’s hair. “I can protect you Fen. You know that. I’ve already thought this through in case you took the offer. I can have your documents forged and even a backup story. You will be given a portkey that heads straight back here to our home in case anything ever happens. And you won’t have to worry about your potions supply. I have that covered. Plus I’m going to teach you how to brew it too if you’re interested.”

Fenrir looked away, suspiciously teary eyed. He gave a rough cough, hands clenching. “Why…are you so nice to me? You…”

Harry paused before shrugging. “Believe it or not I just am. You’ve done nothing to me or Tom that warrant animosity. You’re a smart lad and you deserve to go to school, experience what other kids experience. It’s just a little bonus that you’re a wicked werewolf,” Harry grinned.

Fenrir gave him a dry laugh. “I think you’re the only person who would ever consider lycanthropy as a ‘wicked’ condition.”

“So, you coming?” Harry asked as he started finishing up with the snipping.

Fenrir pursed his lips, thinking about it carefully. It wasn’t until Harry was finally done and was vanishing the mess of hair on the floor did he speak again. “What about you?”

Harry looked at him with a tilt to his head, ushering him to follow. “What about me?”

“You’ll be left alone. Tom will be going to Hogwarts in less than half a year. If I go too, who’ll stay here and keep you from tripping out of the floo or forgetting to eat your meals? I know adults are supposed to be these independent versions of us kids but you’re like an exception. Someone ought to stay behind—“ Fenrir found himself being glomped.

“You are a sweet kid,” Harry laughed.

Fenrir rolled his eyes at him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to tell you my plans later on or maybe—“

“What are you two doing?” Tom asked raising a brow as he entered the living room, looking sleep rumpled but awake and curious. He must’ve been awake for a while now and just read in his bed. Harry sometimes wondered if he would end up in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin.

“You’re just in time Tom,” Harry smiled, putting Fenrir down. “I was just discussing things with Fenrir and he said he’ll be attending Hogwarts with you. Although he’ll be two levels above you.”

“Hey, I haven’t agreed yet,” Fenrir grumbled but knew Harry was right.

“Hush, now,” Harry said grinning excitedly. “Look, I’ve come up with this plan ever since I took you from that place. Fen is an unexpected but lovely addition to the plan which I will now be revealing,” Harry grinned mischievously.

“Just get on with it Harry,” Tom said shaking his head with a small smile.

“Well, you’ve noticed that I’ve been away a lot these past few months yes?” At both their careful nods he continued, “Well it’s because I’ve been hiring people to oversee my estates for me, that and I’ve been setting up a different schedule and for all reports to be owled to me with specific conditions. Also, I had to settle a few things with Gringotts,” Harry said.

“Why?” Tom asked looking wary and suspicious.

“Because…” Harry said, taking out a potion and gulping it down in one go after casting a wandless spell over himself. Tom and Fenrir watched as Harry started to shrink, and shrink, and shrink…until he was a small child even shorter than Tom.

Tom gasped as bright green eyes stared at him with delight. Harry looked so young, so small compared to him. “What—“

“I’m going to Hogwarts with you!” Harry announced, throwing his hands up, looking exactly like the child that he had turned himself into.

Chapter Text

Tom had a plan. Ever since Harry told him all about Hogwarts, with its history, houses, rules and traditions, he had devised a plan to conquer the school. He would be the best student, win over all of the professors and make connections in various houses. Afterwards, he would go home every year to Harry, telling him about all his great achievements to make him proud. He was supposed to prove his brilliance. Independently. He wanted to show Harry that he can do a lot of things without him, and for him. His first year was supposed to be spectacular!

And Harry just had to ruin everything by doing…this. He was already an incredible wizard, with vast knowledge from the years he had in spare to pursue every branch of magic he fancied. Harry was an immortal with the power and cunning to take over the world. The school would be a piece of cake. And Tom won’t be given a chance to…

Tom saw Harry’s young excited face crumble. He didn’t realize he was wearing his own emotions on his face as he turned around and headed upstairs to his room, loudly slamming the door shut.

It wasn’t that Tom hated Harry for this. Hating Harry was an impossibility for him.

He just wished Harry would let him grow on his own. He didn’t want to be coddled his entire life. He loved Harry. He wanted Harry to depend on him. He wanted to be his equal. He wanted to achieve things on his own.

He just wanted to be worthy of Harry. His soulmate, his Harry. The person who took him from his own personal hell and gave him love and who symbolized everything good there is in the world.

He clutched the old snake stuffed toy in his arms, and tried to reign in his thoughts.

Fenrir stared as little Harry who barely reached up to his shoulder, his face crumpled with worry and confusion. His clothes shrunk with him during the transformation so he wasn’t swimming in them, but Fenrir could not help but wonder why Harry was…too small and a little too skinny for his age.

“I don’t understand…” Harry murmured staring wide eyed at where Tom had run off to. Fenrir suspected that this may be the first time they’ve ever run into this kind of conflict. The wolf had no idea why Tom got angry. Both of them adored Harry. Tom more than himself. He didn’t see why the boy would hate the idea of Harry tagging along to…

Oh.

Fenrir sighed, finally understanding.

He once had plans for himself as well. Plans to leave here and look for his own pack. He wanted to do it with his own power. Carve his own path without the shadow of his old pack clawing at his tail.

So maybe Tom felt the same.

The difference between them was that Fenrir already found his pack. It was the reason why he stayed. He settled with them without noticing it. They had intertwined their fates with his the moment Harry took him in.

Harry’s eyes swam with tears, making his bright emerald green eyes shine with emotion. He looked fragile and hurt. Before Fenrir even realized what he was doing, he had walked up to the boy who let himself be enveloped in a hug. Fenrir lifted him up, frowning at the surprisingly light weight that greeted him, and he walked over to the couch while Harry sniffled into his neck.

“Harry—“ He was about to say until everything in the room suddenly dropped in temperature. Fenrir tightened his hold on the sniffling boy who didn’t even seem to notice the sudden wave of overwhelming magic filling the entire room. He felt scared and trapped and he didn’t know what this was.

“My foolish master…”

A voice chuckled and Fenrir felt as if his blood ran cold, spreading a terrifying numbness throughout his entire body.

“Go away Death!” Harry replied petulantly, completely unaffected by the invisible presence. “I don’t need you to rub it in my face that you were right.”

A large skeletal figure in billowing black cloak surrounded by a misty fog that chilled Fenrir to the bone appeared before them. And what’s worse is that it was…chuckling.

“I did tell you my dear master.”

“You are an ARSE!” Harry snarled. “He hates me now!” he shifted so that he didn’t have his face buried in Fenrir’s chest.

“Please. The boy adores you. Loves you. He won’t hate you.”

“He did once!”

“Different timeline. You’re confusing the two dimensions with your emotional turmoil.” Death…it was death. Death. DEATH. Fenrir was sure he’d have a heart attack.

And then Death turned to him with his pitch black void for eyes, focusing on him in…amusement? While Fenrir fought hard not to soil his pants.

“Hello wolf.”

Fenrir would deny the fact that he whimpered if he wasn’t so busy being afraid. His instincts were telling him to run. But hell if he was going to leave Harry with this being. His hold on the immortal tightened protectively, even as a whimper threatened to escape his lips.

“Oh Merlin!” Harry exclaimed turning his attention on Fenrir. Small hands cupped his pale face and he felt himself being turned to face the concerned kid face of Harry Peverell. “Fen, sorry, don’t be afraid. He won’t hurt you, I swear. I won’t—Death, move away would you? You’re scaring the pants off of him,” Harry said glaring at the personification of Death the way he’d glare at Tom or Fenrir when he caught them out of bed past their curfew.

Death smiled mischievously before floating back to give them space, allowing Fenrir enough air to breathe and sit while little Harry fussed over him on his lap.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, much like he always did. It was one of the things that won him over to the man—well boy. He was incredibly affectionate. And it was sincere affection which is practically irresistible with the way he offers it. And he respects Fen as well as he did Tom.

“Why…how?” Fenrir asked breathlessly, focusing on Harry and not on the terrifying cloaked skeleton a few feet away from them.

“Oh, uh…well, I’m the Master of Death. And Death here is the main reason I’m immortal. Don’t ask how I even got the title. It’s a long story. He came here to taunt me in person because I screwed up with Tom…” at the reminder of his troubles, his small shoulders sagged, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

“True, I’ve come to gloat, but I’ve also come to remind you of the deal for that potion you just took.”

“What deal?” Fenrir asked.

Harry sighed. “He gave me the idea for the potion, but I’m stuck in this body. The moment I reach eighteen, that’s when I’ll stop aging. So I’ll have to go through puberty all over again. May I remind you that I was stuck in an age where I’ve just barely graduated from the raging hormones? You know how hard it is to have that much sexual energy when there was no one interesting?” He sniped, climbing off Fenrir to give the being a pointed look.

“It is not my fault no one caught your attention. And it matters not what you do with your libido. Unless I can get away with humiliating you.”

Harry groaned, “You’re horrible.” It was enough to tell Fenrir that Death had already embarrassed Harry enough times to scar him.

“You sounded as if you were in pain master. I was only checking to see if you were alright,” Death said innocently.

Harry’s cheeks colored and so did Fenrir’s. “You know damn well I wasn’t in any pain! You just wanted to drop by and scare the shit out of me! I can’t even count the times you’ve prevented me from orgasming!”

“You’re reactions were worth it.”

Fenrir, who was technically within the age of puberty, was having a difficult time banishing the thought of Harry climaxing. Sure he found the man very attractive but he’d never…it just didn’t feel right. It gave him shivers. Plus, he was pretty sure Tom would cut off his balls and feed him his cock if he ever looked at Harry that way.

“You’re a fucking pervert,” Harry hissed.

“Master, I wasn’t the one with something pink up his—“

Harry launched himself at the dark laughing figure with a growl. Death caught him easily, seeing as Harry was so small. It was terrifying to watch him try to attack death while Death merely held him like a mother would to their child. Smiling patronizingly too as if Harry was the most amusing thing in the world.

“I miss the old version of you. The one that’s always serious. The one that didn’t know how to laugh and smile and be an arse,” Harry pouted angrily, crossing his arms over his chest with an indignant huff.

“You’re the Master of Death. My new personality is a direct result from being linked to you. You only have yourself to blame,” Death said monotonously.

Harry scowled.

“What is it,” Death sighed like a tired parent.

“Tom’s…angry at me. I thought…well I thought he’d be ecstatic to have me around with him in Hogwarts. But he…doesn’t want me there,” Harry said softly.

“He had plans master,” Death explained patiently but tonelessly as well while still holding Harry. “Plans to make you proud of his independent achievements. But you ruined them all when you sprung this up. He thinks you don’t trust him to be on his own and that you’re being too…”

“Clingy,” Fenrir finished.

“What!? No I’m not!”  Harry denied.

“Harry, you didn’t let him go to school. You didn’t get him tutors, you’re with him practically 3/4s a day,” Fenrir grunted.

“But--! Tom didn’t want to go to a muggle school. And he didn’t like having to put up with other people too much! He said he’ll murder the tutor I hire for him. And he seeks me out too! We like each other’s company!” he protested.

“But the boy wishes to grow up.”

Harry stopped and went quiet. He looked awfully sad but also like he finally understood. He twisted in Death’s arms and murmured something to him before addressing Fenrir, “I’ll be back tomorrow Fen.”

And just like that he vanished.

“Same place?” Death asked, setting him down while holding Harry’s hand. At Harry’s nod, they were off.

It was his thing…when he got upset to the point where he doesn’t know what to do. He’d ask Death to take him here. Where he felt safe and accepted and not alone. Where the one person he looked up to would smile at him and make everything feel okay.

Death at the start, thought it to be an unhealthy way to cope. But seeing the way it worked for Harry was enough to shut him up on the matter. After all, keeping his master sane was definitely one of his priorities.

But that person made his master happy. And although it becomes too painful to stay longer than necessary, Harry always came back better than he did upon arriving.

Tom woke up feeling guilty.

Now that he wasn’t blinded by disappointment and anger, he could clearly remember the way Harry’s smile crumbled, eyes widening in worry and confusion. He looked so young, and so small. He was supposed to be Tom’s age! But he was almost half of Fenrir’s size!

He remembered that Harry mentioned something about his relatives starving him, about a cupboard for a bedroom, work for servants… It never seemed as real as it did now that Tom could see the proof on Harry’s small frail body.

He rubbed his temples, soothing his thoughts and thinking of ways to try and speak to Harry about the matter. Surely Harry would understand what he wanted? What he needed?

Right?

“Gobry?” He called, looking at the place the elf popped into. “Yes master Tom? What can Gobry do for you?”

“How’s Harry?” he asked softly. The elf smiled kindly. “Master Harry was upset last night master Tom. He left for the night and arrived two hours ago.”

Tom’s chest hurt.

“Where’s Fenrir?” he asked.

“Comforting master Harry sir,” the elf bowed. “Will master be eating his breakfast in his room?”

“No, I’ll be down shortly,” he paused, “Where did you say the two were?”

“In the living room sir,” Gobry replied.

“Alright, thank you Gobry. That will be all.” The elf bowed and popped away, leaving Tom sighing heavily in the air. He got out of bed and went to take a quick shower. Afterwards, he went down to the dining room, not quite ready to face Harry yet. He ate his breakfast absently, trying to think of what to say and how to make Harry understand what he wanted. He loves Harry. But he didn’t want to be shackled to him the way he was now. He wanted experiences where Harry wasn’t there physically. He wanted room to grow on his own. But with the way Harry clung to him, he’d feel too strangled to achieve anything.

Thanking the elves for the meal, he started heading towards the living room with an anxious heart.

Harry, I’m sorry I upset you. But I need you to understand the reason I reacted the way I did last night. The reason I don’t want you to follow me into Hogwarts. Harry, we’ve been together every single moment since you took me in, I want—

His thoughts skidded to a hault at the sight that greeted him upon reaching the living room. There, sitting on the long couch, was Fenrir, with a lap full of Harry.

HIS Harry.

He was running his hand through the small boy’s hair, not saying anything while Harry snuggled into his arms.

Tom’s magic flared in anger and Fenrir’s head snapped in his direction, surprise flashing in his eyes until they gleamed knowingly. His arms tightened around Harry and Tom growled.

“Harry, Tom’s here now,” Fenrir smiled mischievously.

Harry lifted his head and they locked with Tom’s blazing ones, misinterpreting the boy’s anger for the Hogwarts thing. “Tom…” He said in a small voice that had Tom’s steps faltering as he neared the two. He’s never heard Harry sound so cautious, so unsure. He got off the wolf’s lap, crossing what little distance was left between them and it struck Tom once again how small Harry was. And how incredibly adorable he is at this age. And then he spoke.

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you about it before deciding on my own. It was selfish. And clingy. I didn’t realize the idea would suffocate you. I’m sorry. I just…you’ll be 7 years away from me, with the exception of the small vacations and winter holidays. I just couldn’t bear to be separated from you that long. So I did it selfishly and I wasn’t thinking about how you would feel. But you don’t h-have to worry. I’ve decided not to go anymore. I’ll just stay here. Find something to do, and wait patiently for you to return. I promise to support you Tom. You know I’d do anything for you,” Harry whispered smiling apologetically and tentatively reaching for Tom’s hand. Tom’s breath caught and his throat clogged, strong waves of emotions burning through him as he stared into those bright green eyes. “I—“ Harry understood. Of course he would. He—

Fenrir slung an arm around Harry and grinned wolfishly at Tom. “You can go to Hogwarts without worrying about this little one here. I’ll be taking good care of him while you’re away.”

Tom’s eyes snapped to his and his jaw clenched. Fenrir was pushing his buttons. And they were damn well working. “I thought you were attending Hogwarts as well?” he asked in a strained voice.

Fenrir’s grin widened. “Of course not! If I did, then Harry will be all alone. Someone ought to keep him company.”

Harry nodded with a reassuring and oblivious smile towards Tom.

“You’ll have your Hogwarts experience while I get to have Harry for seven years all~to~myself~” Fenrir purred.

Tom felt his self control snap within an instant, snatching a surprised Harry away from Fenrir and wrapping him in a tight hug. Harry squeaked, looking incredibly flustered, green eyes wide as they stared at him. “Tom, what’s wrong?”

“I changed my mind. You were right. I don’t want to be separated from you for that long either. You’re coming with me to Hogwarts. I was being stupid. I’m sorry,” he murmured to Harry, eyes throwing daggers at Fenrir’s triumphant smirk.

“Really? I thought…” Harry said frowning a bit.

Tom shook his head and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I had all night to think about it. And I think it’d be…fun…if you were with me in Hogwarts.” Plus he himself failed to realize how long he’d be apart from his Harry.

“Well, that settles it then!” Fenrir grinned, “We’re all going to Hogwarts then! No way you’re leaving me behind while you dominate an entire school full of children. I need to join in the fun of course.”

I will get you for this wolf, Tom thought to himself narrowing his eyes at the boy who winked. He knew he had been played. His possessiveness over Harry overruling his original plans.

Small thin arms wrapped around Tom’s neck, startling him. “Thanks Tom,” Harry said softly into his neck and a rush of warmth spread throughout Tom’s entire body, making him forget about getting back at Fenrir temporarily to savor in the feeling of his Harry.

Another issue came to mind a few moments later.

“Harry, we need to fix your malnourished state this instant,” he said sternly. Fenrir nodded solemnly agreeing completely. While Harry scowled knowing that he was in for a lot of mothering and nagging from the two before they receive their Hogwarts letters.

Chapter Text

Harry twirled the elder wand absently, mind occupied with the plan for the following week. He was of course excited to go back to Hogwarts, the first ever place that felt like home to him. But in order to get there, he’ll have to meet Dumbledore, the man who raised him like a pig for slaughter. He had four years to look for a solution that would get rid of the hocrux inside him, four blasted years where he left his old meddling self resigned to the decision that Harry must die to end the war. For the greater fucking good. He had children running around doing things that perfectly trained adults with more experience could have done. Dumbledore blindly believed the prophecy without ever thinking of how to save him. He was a liar. A manipulative fool. And a pretentious hypocrite. He was one of the people Harry would gladly end. Him along with Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with the headmaster, who was currently still deputy headmaster. Harry knew if he, Tom, and Fen stood out in the wrong way, the old bastard would step in and meddle. As of now, he didn’t have the title of the defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald who was still gathering forces after Harry had taken back the elder wand. Dumbledore didn’t have as much influence and power as he did in his timeline. Not yet. And not if Harry had anything to say about it. If he ever so much as stepped out of line and endangered students in his Hogwarts attendance, he’ll get rid of him in a heartbeat. No one needed an incompetent self-absorbed dolt running a school that held the future generation of magic.

Even after all these years of living, Harry never truly got over his grudges. He never received closure from them because of the fact that they died before he had the chance to get back at them. His failed attempt to crucio Bellatrix, the silverhand killing Pettigrew before he could torture the fucker later, and Dumbledore, forcing his death upon poor Severus who’s been thrown back and forth between both sides all for the sake of keeping Lily’s son safe. Harry had forgiven him after he found out the truth. Forgiven him and wished he had gotten to know the man who loved his mom instead of the one who hated his father.

And then there was Tom.

Harry glanced at the boy who was arguing with a grinning Fenrir about the combination of spell work that can be used to fly. Tom was worlds different from the boy who wanted power above everyone, to stand like a king over the people of magic. Harry wasn’t even sure what his goals were now. Well, from the argument they had months ago, apparently Tom wanted to prove himself to Harry. To gain his own experiences and grow from them.

It made Harry pout whenever he thought of separating from Tom, even if it was only temporary.

Good thing it wasn’t happening now. It was already bad enough that Tom has firmly refused to sleep next to him anymore. He even put wards over his door! And he sent Harry stinging hexes whenever Harry brought it up. It was incredibly beyond frustrating. Where was his lovable Tom? Where was the sweet five year old who cried if he was gone for two to three hours? Where was the Tom who held his hand and sat next to him to read?

He really hated it. Hated how Tom was putting distance between them to ‘grow up.’ Was he not capable of growing up with Harry around?

It was worse now, especially when he could still remember the boy’s face when he told him he was following him to Hogwarts. He agreed in the end, making Harry immensely relieved that he didn’t have to stay behind wallowing in self-misery. But Harry thought he was getting worse.

It was like he had this internal switch.

The moment he has Tom’s attention, he was happy, childish, and just satisfied to bask in it. Then when Tom pushes him away, he feels as if he reverts back to the time when he was alone trying to find ways to end himself. Death tried to get him to stop. But Harry had been determined. And although he couldn’t die, he discovered he could still suffer. It was only afterwards did he pour his infinite supply of free time pouring over books and practicing various fields of magic just to have something to focus on. And once he ran out of interests he came here and practically kidnapped Tom.

What if this soulmate connection they had wasn’t that strong? After all, plenty of people reach happiness without ever knowing their soulmate. What was stopping Tom from turning out the same way?

What was he supposed to do then?

His eyes started to sting at the thought, watering while he felt his face heat up. Turning into a child gave him less control over the physical response to his bottled up emotions. Quite the hassle since Harry easily gets affected by the littlest things. It’s easy to hide it as an adult, used to the bursts of pain and numbness that spreads from his chest to the rest of his body. But the ten year old body turning eleven wasn’t so accustomed to dealing with it the way his eighteen year old body was.

He shook his head, wild hair flying as he did. It had grown longer than he was used to wearing but the two boys had told him that it suited him well, the length of it, so he followed their advice. You’re basically his parent for crying out loud, he told himself, you should be more mature about this and let it go.

Easier said than done. He had felt himself bordering insanity because his immortality, the loneliness that came with it. And now that he’s found his remedy he realized he couldn’t always keep it. Keep him.

Harry sighed and got back to work, carving runes on the pendant he was going to give Fenrir. He wondered briefly if he ought to teach them wizard’s space. Hogwarts was closing in fast and although he already briefed the two boys about the plan for when Dumbledore comes to give Tom his letter, he was wondering how he should go about once he was inside the castle. Tom wanted space so he needed to scrap the original plan of dominating the snake’s house alongside him. So getting into Slytherin was a big no. And that was a pretty annoying decision for him since he wouldn’t even have the opportunity to sneak into his bed for cuddles, or lean on his shoulder while they read.

Harry bit his lip, forcing himself to avoid spiraling down into that bottomless pit of self-misery. He needed to be positive. Tom was growing up. And this was only the beginning. He’ll have his own group of friends soon (yes friends, because Harry was hopeful confident that this Tom’s capable of having them instead of mere followers), his own place, his own…partner.

At that last thought, Harry lashed out at the pendant he was working on, apparated straight into his room and launched himself onto the bed that now seemed too big for someone as small as him. He grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, trying to calm his racing mind and his crackling magic, as well as the tears that were slowly drenching his pillow.

Merlin he was going mad!

“Is there a particular reason why you’re being cold to Harry?”

The question caused Tom to pause in his reading, looking up at Fenrir with a blank expression. “Pardon?”

Fenrir rolled his eyes. “You heard me. Why are you acting this way toward Harry?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying,” Tom drawled, but even he was aware how unconvincing he sounded, and judging by the pointed look directed his way, Fenrir was not letting this go. Stupid mutt with his stupid loyalties to MY Harry, he grumbled to himself. “Look, just leave it, alright?” he sighed.

“You already know what my response to such a bullshit answer would be,” Fenrir said unrelentingly.

“It’s complicated. I’m sure your head might implode just from trying to comprehend my dilemma,” Tom groused childishly.

Fenrir said nothing, persistent even in his lack of response, causing Tom to slam his book shut and place it on the table. As if he could ever tell anyone what the problem really was. Because not only was it downright wrong. It was just…embarrassing. And Tom did not sit well with that particular discomfort.

It had started when he was ten. He just…It wasn’t unusual for him. To dream of Harry. But that one dream had caused him to just continuously fall into more of them, causing him to wake up disgruntled, confused, and just…flustered.

It was Harry, looming over him, giving him a goodnight kiss that missed and set his lips tingling and his heart fluttering from the embarrassed laugh that came from the man, who had still been a man at the time. The rough pads of his fingers touching his cheek sent a trail of something stirring in his stomach, and somewhere lower.

And that night, after forcing himself to sleep, he dreamt. Of Harry. His skin, his mouth, his eyes, his voice, his scent…

And he had woken to soaked pants and sweat drenching his hair.

He couldn’t look at Harry for an entire week.

Tom didn’t know what it meant. Or why this was happening to him. Or what was happening to him. And not knowing was maddening.

So he secretly owled for certain book to find an answer instead of asking Harry because asking Harry was not an option. And he stayed clear of the wolf who would no doubt smell something wrong about him and come to some strange convoluted conclusion that Tom will deem ridiculous. So he relied on himself to seek the answer.

And he did not like it one bit.

After he researched and thoroughly exhausted the materials he had at hand, he was terrified. And Tom Marvolo Gaunt loathed that feeling. How could he dream about Harry like this? Harry was a man. He’s heard others being called horrible names for feeling certain things like this for the same sex. They were derogatory terms that set them apart from normal society, alienated them and was generally looked down upon.

It was horrible. He needed to banish the feelings away. He didn’t want to think of Harry in such a…strange way. He loves Harry. Treasures him. He was supposed to protect Harry and make him happy as payment for everything he’s done for Tom. Harry will forever be the most important person to him.

So Harry must never find out.

“You haven’t seen him, have you?” Fenrir said, pulling Tom away from his thoughts. “I think he’s been crying,” the wolf whispered, voice heavy with concern that caused Tom to blink at him. Crying? Harry has been crying?

“If you paid attention, you’d notice. I’m not sure if the potion had side effects on him but I think it affected him more than physically. He’s still your Harry. He’s still about who knows how old. But he feels…younger, more…fragile. He used to just smile it off whenever you ignored him before, but now he just…crumbles. Like he can’t even pout and just gets this distant look in his eyes,” Fenrir said quietly. “I tried to comfort the little guy, but he shies away. Unlike before when we were the ones who had to fend him off our backs. You need to fix this, whatever it is. You’re making him miserable.”

Tom was out of his seat within a second, running uncharacteristically up the stairs and straight through the hallway that led to Harry’s bedroom. He was about to knock when the door opened to reveal a puffy-eyed Harry whose green eyes widened in horror upon seeing him. He stood in shock, Fenrir’s words carving harshly into his skin as he looked at the proof.

“I’ll um go to back to um bed. Yeah.” Harry looked down, trying to hide away from him and Tom didn’t think. He wrapped his arms around Harry, murmuring apologies while he cried.

It was the first in a while that they slept in the same bed that night. A pleasure Tom has denied himself of since he first had that dream.

Harry didn’t ask for an explanation in the morning. He just smiled at Tom and hugged him tight before he headed off to have breakfast with Fenrir.

Tom wondered if it was okay. He kept wondering and wondering until he found himself infront of Fenrir once more, heavy privacy wards in place while the wolf stared at him in shock. It was only ever Harry that could manage to break his resolve and cause him to do things he’d rather die than doing. “So you’re telling me…that you…Merlin…you’ve been acting like a giant prat because you fancy Harry?”

Tom flinched but said nothing.

“Oh Circe you’re eleven. ELEVEN. And you’re already having this kind of crisis,” Fenrir said half amused half confused on what to say.

Again Tom remained silent.

“Look, I wish you went to me sooner. Because I may only be two years older than you, but I grew up with grownups who weren’t tight-lipped about things like this. And I’m telling you now, there’s nothing wrong about liking a bloke. Especially Harry. We’re not muggles. We’re part of a different culture who accepts that kind of thing. It’s normal, Tom. You’re fine. Harry’s fit. Well, he used to be. He’s just incredibly adorable now, especially after we made him take those nutrient potions and had him eat his fill. But there’s absolutely nothing strange about the fact that you’ve developed romantic feeling for him,” Fenrir said.

“And the…sexual feelings?” Tom asked calmly, fighting unsuccessfully against the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Yes. I’m pretty sure you two will get married once you’re of age. I mean, you both act like you’re married already. Harry doesn’t really treat you like you’re his ward or his cub. You two act like you’re mated, which makes sense after he told me you’re soulmates,” Fenrir said waving it off.

“Why do you know so much?” Tom asked after a moment, brows knitting.

Fenrir grinned and winked. “I’ve been out in the real world while you’ve been sitting in the library reading. The experience wasn’t pretty, but you pick up a thing or two.” He sat back, observing Tom quietly. “You don’t have to do anything. You can just let it happen.”

“Let what happen?”

“You and Harry. It’s heading that way regardless. But you should stop fighting it. Just…let go, I guess. Pay attention to him, stop distancing yourself from him, let the dreams happen, it’s not like he’s going anywhere,” Fenrir shrugged.

“But they’re so…” Tom said frowning. “At first it was just…his touch, but when he drank that potion, when he shrank…I see him under me, writhing, whispering—“

“I do NOT need to know what wet dreams you have of Harry!” Fenrir exclaimed in panic, clapping his hands against his ears.

Tom smirked, “Why not? You’ve listened to everything else so far.”

“Quiet you. That’s different. Now I’m going to go run in the forest, get the goosebumps off my skin from what I just heard,” Fenrir said shuddering. “Merlin, if this is how parents feel like when they give their children ‘the talk’ then I don’t think I’d want any.”

“What’s the talk?”

“If you stopped making fun of me for reading novels instead of all those informative books, you’d know,” Fenrir said, sticking his tongue out at Tom who rolled his eyes but took note of the suggestion mentally.

Just as Fenrir was about to head out he thought he heard a small thank you. It made him grin and shake his head, muttering, “Kids,” like an old man.

Chapter Text

When Albus Dumbledore came to Wool’s Orphanage to deliver a letter to a boy named Thomas Marvolo Gaunt, he wasn’t expecting to take in two other kids.

After the matron had led him to ‘Tom’s’ room, he heard whispers before he could go inside. The matron had informed him of a roommate but had said he could talk to the boy alone. Except when the he did go inside, there were three boys inside instead of just two, causing Albus to wonder what the children were up to.

The tallest immediately stood in front of the younger two, glaring at Albus while shielding the other two protectively. The window was wide open, letting Albus know the boy wasn’t from here.

“Hello children, which one of you is Mr. Gaunt?” he asked kindly, trying not to antagonize the kids any further.

“Who are you?” the older boy demanded. The smallest one peered from under his arms, bright green eyes watching Albus curiously while the other stared at him cautiously from over the shoulder of the tallest.

“My name is Albus Dumbledore dear boy,” he told them gently slightly amused at the odd situation he found himself in. “And who might you be?”

“Fen, maybe he’s nice?” the smallest whispered.

“Harry, you don’t know that,” ‘Fen’ hissed at him.

“He said he came for me, maybe those matrons finally called in a shrink,” the one who must be Tom murmured bitterly.

“What’s a shrink?”

“A bad doctor for crazy people,” Fenrir answered in a hushed but harsh tone while green eyes widened and suddenly found Albus’ with a burst of “You are NOT taking Tom away from us!”

He could feel his lips twitch at the endearing protectiveness these children had for each other. “I’m afraid you all have it wrong children. I am not a shrink. I’m a professor. And I’m here to deliver Mr. Gaunt’s letter of acceptance to the school I work for.”

“How do we know you aren’t lying?” Fen asked suspiciously.

“What school? I don’t remember applying for a school other than the one everyone at the orphanage goes to,” the Gaunt boy said. The lad had icy blue eyes that showed a certain kind of cunning that surprised Albus.

"Well, this isn't just any school. It's a special school where children with your gift attend," Albus explained, wondering to himself how he ought to deal with the situation best. It was good that the boys were close and all, but he needed to get the Gaunt boy alone. He wasn't very keen on the idea of using magic on these two when they're only trying to protect their friend. "And no, it is most certainly not some sort of mental institution," he added.
"You mean..." Gaunt said frowning and turning to Fen who blinked at Albus in surprise.
"Is it...a magic school?" Harry whispered in awe.
Albus stared at the children in surprise. "And who might you two be?"
"Harry Peverell. And he's Fenrir Greyback." To which Greyback and Gaunt hissed a shushing "Harry!"

"Peverell?" Albus sputtered. "Who are your parents child?"

"I don't know, but the matrons found me at their doorstop when I was a baby. My name was stitched onto my blanket," Peverell replied watching him. Albus' mind was reeling with the information that this child was of the most Ancient and Noble Peverell line. But before his thoughts could wonder about the mystery even further, the boy spoke again. "So is it a magic school? Fenrir's been teaching Tom and I about magic. He's our professor."

He immediately turned to look at the wary older boy who seemed to want to hush Peverell as much as he wanted to get them all away from Albus. "Are you one of the orphans here Mr. Greyback? And may I ask if you are in fact aware of what I am? What you all are?" He asked gently.

Greyback answered slowly, reluctantly, "I...I stay with an uncle. He's a squib. And he used to tell me things...like the fact that I'm...a wizard. And you're one too...like Harry and Tom."

"And how old are you?" Albus said with a small frown.

"Thirteen sir."

"Why hasn't your uncle enrolled you in a magic school?" He asked watching as the boy stiffened. "He... He's been sick for a couple of years now. He can't really remember things anymore. We live off his family inheritance and I just..." Greyback paused as if thinking, "When you said school, were you referring to...Hogwarts?"

Albus smiled, "Yes my dear boy. And if you would allow me, I'd like to extend the invitation to both you and young Mr. Peverell here. How did you three even meet? It must've been magic to bring three magical children together like this."

Gaunt smiled a little, finally relaxing, "I grew up with Harry, and Fenrir protected us from some bullies in the park near here. He found out about our magic a little while after and explained what he knew to us."

“I see,” Albus murmured, finding the entire thing incredibly surprising. Magic seemed to have woven the three boys’ fates with one another because this could be no mere coincidence. Gaunt and Peverell were of two very powerful houses, both of which, have been thought to be dead, or getting there since the last Gaunt was unable to produce an heir. Morfin Gaunt has been rumored to have gone a little mad the past few years, drinking himself to sleep daily and using up what money was left within their vaults.. Albus didn’t have any knowledge on Greyback but assumed it was a line produced from cast out squibs from one of the wizarding families that practiced such acts.

He took out the letter and handed it over to Gaunt who took it carefully, staring at the envelop with very well concealed excitement that only managed to slip from the very brief glow in those blue eyes. “I’ll have both your letters delivered to the two of you later today,” he said, addressing the other two.

“I’m going too?” Peverell said in delight.

“But what about money?” Fenrir asked in disbelief, “We don’t have anything to pay for—“

“Worry not Mr. Greyback. Hogwarts has a special program for children under your circumstances. You will be provided with an allowance and will attend the school without payment. No magical child should be deprived of their education. Now, within the letter is the list of books and things you’ll need for school, as well as directions as to where you can purchase them. I have Mr. Gaunt’s money for his and will deliver yours and Mr. Peverell’s with your letters. There are also directions and instructions for how you’ll get to Hogwarts. Now, Mr. Greyback, I’ll have to meet your uncle and talk about your enrollment. I’ll also have to ask you to take some exams for the school to decide whether you can take the third year classes. If you don’t meet the required results then you’ll be attending as a first year along with Mr. Gaunt and Mr. Peverell. And errr Mr. Peverell, am I correct to assume that you are eleven like Mr. Gaunt?”

Harry nodded.

“Then that’s that. I can accompany you three to Diagon Alley –“

“No need sir. I know how to get there,” Fenrir interrupted, “We’ll be fine on our own. And I’m used to taking care of these two.”

Gaunt stepped on his foot which Greyback ignored.

“Oh, very well,” Albus said agreeably although a little reluctant to leave the children on their own. But Greyback seemed determined and the two boys seemed to agree to go without the need of adult supervision.

“Then I’ll see you at Hogwarts children,” he smiled.

Harry watched him leave, waiting until he felt the old man’s presence disappear completely.

He sighed and slumped onto the too stiff mattress that had been kept empty and unused for six years. “Well, I’m glad that’s over.”

“Acting like a clueless child is tiring,” Tom muttered.

“At least he’s gone now,” Fenrir grunted slumping over Harry who made an “oof” sound at the wolf’s weight.

“I wanted to hex his balls off,” Harry grumbled. “Stupid meddling old man. Don’t ever let that grandfather caring façade fool you. He’s a selfish narrow minded idiot.”

“What did he do to you?” Tom asked curiously as Fenrir rolled off Harry to let the boy sit up.

“In my old timeline, he left me with abusive muggle relatives, kept vey important secrets that concerned my life from me, raised me like a pig for slaughter, gave up on me, used me, and died on me before I could kill him myself,” Harry huffed.

Tom’s eyes darkened immediately.

“Why do you call it your old timeline? I mean, you did say you traveled back in time,” Fenrir wondered.

“I guess, it’s mostly for my convenience, although its partly incorrect. I’m from the future. And although there are plenty of parallel dimensions with their own Harry, I’ve singled out my own existence with my immortality. In a way, I’ve created a permanent singularity in my very existence so that none of the other Harrys would have a similar future to mine. Its what allows me to exist here while somewhere in the future of this timeline, another Harry will be born, but we won’t ever be the same. The only thing similar would be our family and appearance but other than that, we’re two completely separate existences. So I refer to my past as my old timeline because when I went back in time for Tom. I destroyed that timeline. My timeline. Which should have been my future were it not for the fact that I’ve detached myself from the web of fate. I traveled linearly but in the same way I also created a split, another timeline. I didn’t jump universes. I’m rewriting it into something new. That’s as simple as I can put it and I’m not even entirely sure I got everything right…” Harry said with a shrug.

“Why wasn’t I in your future?” Tom asked suddenly.

Harry turned to him, “What makes you say that?”

“The fact that you had to go back in time to find me led me to conclude I wasn’t there,” Tom replied.

“Um…no, you were there,” Harry said reluctantly.

Tom cocked his head in wonder, finding Harry’s reluctance odd. He rarely asked about Harry’s old life. But when he explained the linear manner of time travel, it got him curious.

“If I was there, why’d you have to travel all the way back? What happened?” Tom asked.

Harry was incredibly conflicted with how he was supposed to answer that question. He couldn’t very well just go tell him that he grew up in the orphanage thirsty for power and control, mutilated his soul in a reckless attempt at immortality, killed and tortured people, and died from a disarming spell. He didn’t know what to tell Tom. This Tom who cared and listened and smiled at him. He didn’t know how it would affect him.

“I don’t think we should be asking questions about a future that isn’t going to exist anymore,” Fenrir hummed, surprising Harry. The wolf flashed him a sheepish smile as he explained. “Ever since you told me your time-travel thing, I wondered about my future as well. I wondered what I became, but when I revisit the thoughts inside my head before you guys found me, I’m pretty sure I have a good grasp of what I turned out to be. I wouldn’t have looked for a pack…I think I was planning on creating my own. Infecting kids and having them follow me. Create my own army or something. I mean, I hated wizards, with their thick prejudice against my kind. I wanted to destroy them. That was until your silly smiling face, delicious steaks, and scentless soaps changed my mind.”

Harry stared at him in shock, unable to help himself as he wrapped his arm around the boy. “Aw cub,” he cooed making the other laugh, “You do know that you’re physically the cub between us, if your cute little baby wolf animagus is anything to go by.” The first time Harry transformed to keep him company during the full moon, they were in for a delightful shock when Harry turned into a small little cub with big green eyes. Tom could not keep his hands to himself.

“I guess I can relate,” Tom murmured. His memories of the orphanage were still very dark for him. He remembered it well, the confusion as to why everyone treated him so coldly, why bad things just happened around him, that helpless numbing sensation of knowing that you had no one. He probably would have grown up the same as Fenrir. Bitter, hateful, and greedy for power. He looked around the room where he had cried himself to sleep every night, wishing someone would take him away, wishing things were different and wishing bad things on the people that looked down on him and hurt him. “Can we go now? I don’t really want to stay here anymore,” he said softly.

Immediately Harry took his hand and they were back in the manor. They were home again.

Tom could feel his insides vibrating with excitement much like Fenrir was literally bouncing where he stood. Harry merely smiled at them, a look of nostalgia and longing in his expression. Tom knew that to Harry Hogwarts had been his home. His escape. And if Harry hadn’t rescued him, he would probably feel the same about Hogwarts as well. But now his definition of home was back in the manor, with Harry’s ridiculous gardening skills, the beautiful and large library filled with books he and Harry bought, the woods with their resident wolf running around like a happy animal… So to him Hogwarts was an adventure, something he’d never admit to Harry and especially not Fenrir who would use such childish little notions against him lightly.

They pushed their trolleys where their trunks were stacked atop one another. Tom touched his wand, feeling the warm responsive tingles of magic surge through him at his touch. Harry had removed the trace in their legally bought wands and had bought himself another wand as well, explaining how his first wand needed to be kept hidden especially from old meddling snots like dumbles (his words).

“Come on, we better get on before all the compartments get taken,” Harry said ushering them over. Once they’ve filed inside, claiming an empty compartment for themselves with Fenrir wandlessly and almost subconsciously casting a locking charm. Tom wondered how advanced they were compared to their schoolmates. Tom just hoped they weren’t too disappointing.

“I think we ought to change into our robes now I guess,” Harry suggested, “I wanna see you guys in your uniforms already.”

“You already took pictures the first time we got them,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, it’s still a very pleasant sight. You’re both handsome,” Harry laughed at Tom’s pink blush and Fenrir’s pleased grin. “I made an album for Fenrir too now. It sits snuggly next to Tom’s baby album.”

“Wait, what? When did you do that?” Fenrir asked in surprise. “What album is this?”

Tom sighed, remembering how crazy Harry got over his silly baby teeth. “I’ve stopped questioning his methods since I was six. It just feels creepy when I think about it so I don’t.”

“Whahahahaha,” Harry said in a funny attempt at an evil laugh.

Once they got changed, Harry brought out that odd little device of his that Tom was pretty sure was from the future and snapped a shot at them both. Tom wore his usual mask of indifference and exasperation while Fenrir posed and grinned roguishly, saying, “I might as well look good while he takes them.”

When they finally arrived, Tom found them having to ride on a boat with floating lights guiding their way to a beautiful massive castle that glowed in the night. He glanced at Harry, about to make a comment about the castle and found himself caught in bright green eyes that glowed as they stared at him. Was Harry always this…captivating? He asked himself, feeling heat rush to his face before he fought them down. Harry smiled that soft little smile of his that always made Tom feel like he was being wrapped in something sweet and warm.

The boat stopped and Harry blinked in surprise, stumbling forward until Tom grabbed his arm to steady him, flashing Tom a sheepish and thankful smile. It continues to surprise him, how small Harry was, how the big strong grip of his hands had turned into the small trusting grasp of a child.

They were all ushered into the breathtaking castle that hummed of an ancient magic that Tom was surprised to have greeted him with welcoming warmth. He noticed that both Fenrir and Harry felt it too. And surprisingly the blonde boy next to him too. A Malfoy, the hair was a dead giveaway.

He was caught staring and gave the other a polite nod, and he was surprised to receive the same response with a small kind smile and an outstretched hand. “I’m Abraxas, Abraxas Malfoy.”

Tom shook his hand, “Thomas Gaunt.” He still disliked using ‘Tom’ to introduce himself. Tom Gaunt did not sound all that impressive compared to using Thomas. He had asked Harry to change it for him before, to remove ‘Tom’ from his name, But Harry had refused and told him how it was a name connected to him, connected to Harry, and they reached a compromise by changing it to Thomas.

“Gaunt,” Malfoy said curiously. “Pureblood?”

“Half,” Tom replied, eyeing the boy and wondering if he’ll be troublesome.

“Tom look at the ceili—” Fenrir suddenly said, nudging him until he noticed the interaction. “Oh, hello, Fenrir Greyback, pleasure to meet you.” He towered over them easily, and Tom rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt to test the Malfoy boy out.

To both their surprise the blond seemed unaffected and his calm and polite smile remained although now laced with slight amusement and curiosity. “Abraxas Malfoy,” he replied, “Are you a transfer student?”

Fenrir smiled approvingly of the backbone he was shown. “I am. Thank Merlin I’ll be joining the third years though. I think I’d stick out like a sore thumb if I had to attend classes with all you tiny first years.”

Harry stepped on his shoe, making him yelp more in surprise rather than pain. “You’ll stick out among the third years anyway Fen. You’re abnormally tall.”

“Not as tall as that boy over there though,” someone else piped in, pointing at the huge curly-haired boy that was even taller than Fenrir. “He’s a half giant.” The boy who spoke had dark hair and grey eyes. His aristocratic features gave him away before he even introduced himself, much like Malfoy and his bloodline traits. “Alphard Black, and you are?”

“Fenrir Greyback.”

“Thomas Gaunt.”

“Harry Peverell.”

“Peverell?” The two gaped. “The Peverell?” They said together although Malfoy gained composure far earlier than Black did.

“Wow. So are you a necromancer too?” Black asked.

Harry smiled with furrowed brows as if the two amused him. “I’m eleven.”

“So? Magical abilities manifest during childhood,” Black insisted.

“Nah, I’m just lucky enough to be born into the Peverell family apparently. But if I do find out I can raise the dead then I’ll be sure to let you know,” Harry nodded seriously. Fenrir snickered and Tom watched Malfoy hide a smile while Black pouted.

And then the hat started to sing. Everyone listened, awed and captivated by everything. There were four long tables full of students wearing their uniforms, chatting and also staring at the first years with interest. And when the sorting started, the older years seemed to be making bets on who’d end up in which house. Tom already knew which house he was going to get in. He was a descendent of the great Salazar Slytherin. He was not going anywhere else. He knew he was ambitious above everything. So if the hat even tries to place him elsewhere he’d burn the thing.

He glanced at Harry who seemed to be looking at the Gryffindor table. He had said he was a lion during his first time in Hogwarts, but he was almost sorted into Slytherin until he begged it not to. For reasons he told Tom were pretty petty now that he thought about it. Tom wondered if he’d end up there again this time. Or if he’ll let the hat do its job and not beg or argue with it. He’d love to take over the snakes with Harry by his side.

“Gaunt, Thomas Marvolo.”

Harry flashed him an excited smile, and Fenrir simply stuck his tongue out at him. Once he sat on the stool and the hat was placed over his head, a voice started speaking to him. “My my, Mr. Riddle.”

Immediately, Tom stiffened. “I’m a Gaunt now, hat..”

“Oh I know. But you’re such a serious child it’s quite the temptation to rile you up a bit, just like your friends do. Now, I guess there’s not much to say. You’ve a brilliant mind far beyond your years Mr. Gaunt. I look forward to seeing you grow. Also, the name’s Alistair.”

And before Tom could retort, Alistair shouted “SLYTHERIN!” And he was off.

“Greyback Fenrir.”

Tom made his way over to the Slytherin table where the students did not stand and shout and cheer. They clapped politely and Black saved him a spot where he sat.

Just as he was about to turn to look at Fenrir, a loud bellow of “GRYFFINDOR!” Resounded in the hall and Tom’s eyes widened in surprise that mirrored both Harry’s and Fenrir himself who stepped off the stool still startled. With the way he always bantered with and countered them in every turn of an argument, or the way he manipulates Tom and Harry in certain situations, they were pretty sure Fenrir was a snake.

And now it turns out he’s a lion instead.

Tom watched as Fenrir was accepted by a loud group of boys. Fenrir seemed uncomfortable and guarded under all the attention, but as taught, he pulled off a friendly enough smile. The wolf caught Tom’s curious gaze and shrugged as if to say “What can you do I guess?”

“So are you Morfin Gaunt’s kid?” One of the older Slytherins asked, breaking Tom out of his thoughts.

“No. I’m his nephew,” he replied. “My mother was his sister.”

A flash of superiority appeared on the boy’s face. Harry had already explained how blood supremacy was a very ugly thing. Almost as ugly as the prejudice against werewolves, but it really took a first hand experience to realize the level of stupidity that wizards harbor.

“Half blood then.” It was an immediate conclusion seeing as his mother's notoriety of being blasted off the family tree for running off with his muggle father.

“Yes, problem?” He asked with a small smile of amusement.

“You’ll soon learn that there are certain rules here in the House of Slytherin. We’re not like other houses, little first year,” said another upperclassman.

“Of course,” Tom replied agreeably, internally plotting how to subdue these blind fools who had their heads stuck up their arses.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Tom whipped his head around and blinked in shock as Harry smiled bemusedly and headed over to the Hufflepuff table.

Chapter Text

“Greyback, Fenrir.”

Fenrir ruffled Harry’s hair before he went over to the stool. His heightened senses allowed him to hear majority of the whispering that occurred when they saw him. Most had concluded that he was a transfer student. And many were speculating why. It was apparently pretty rare for Hogwarts to have a transfer. Even though he technically wasn’t since he’s never attended any kind of school before this. The only lessons he’s ever taken in his entire life were the ones Harry gave. And those were enough to get him through the exams with flying colors. Harry had outdone himself with his teaching. He had told the wolf that he may even pass fifth year exams with the level of information he was teaching them. Fenrir was more than a little doubtful of that but shrugged it off. Harry often told him that while he was no genius like Tom, he was a good student and a quick learner. Fenrir just thinks Harry’s an incredible teacher.

“Well now, a werewolf eh?”

He’d been warned of the hat before but it was still beyond creepy having someone talking in your head. “What of it?” He shot back defensively, unconsciously waiting for the prejudice and hate.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist child. Your secret’s safe with me. There’s nothing wrong with being a werewolf. While current generations considered it a curse, it was nothing more than a simple existence back in Merlin’s time. Believe me, you’re not the first non-human child to ever grace the gates of Hogwarts.”

Fenrir blinked in absolute surprise at that information, unsure how he ought to feel about it until the hat resumed speaking in his head.

“Now let’s move on to the actual sorting, shall we?” Fenrir gave a nod with thinking.

“My what a cunning child you are, surviving all that you did before Peverell took you in. Quite the survivor. And very ambitious. You want to be an alpha despite everything you are aware you’re lacking. Very ambitious indeed. But your courage. Yes. It shines above all with what you’d do for your little pack. Better be—“

“Wait hold on—!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Fuck,” Fenrir hissed. Of all the bloody houses it could put him in. It just had to be Gryffindor. Don’t get him wrong. He didn’t really have house prejudices. But dear Merlin he did not fancy being around noisy lions. Their cheers were already putting him off, making him glance longingly to the house of snakes he had thought he’d end up in. He met Tom’s curious gaze and gave him a defeated shrug and a look.

Already his housemates were asking questions about his life, questions that made him twitch inside and made his smile look more like he was baring his teeth at them.

Hopefully, he won’t end up killing anyone.

Harry smiled with amusement as he watched Fenrir sit down. He seemed to already hate his housemates despite the façade he wore of polite friendliness. Harry was so sure he’d end up in Slytherin seeing as how Fenrir was a survivor through and through. But it did seem to fit. Fenrir in Gryffindor that is. He wondered if he’ll have to talk him into giving them a chance because judging with the way he’s acting now, he seems to resent the lot of them, Harry mused.

He turned his attention back to Tom who seemed to already gain the attention of the upper years. He looked like he was handling it well. Which Harry pretty much guessed is the case. He had wanted to make a bet with Death regarding the amount of time Tom would take to dominate the house of snakes. But seeing as how Death could see the past, present and future, there was really no point.

When his name got called, Harry wondered for the first time since he got here, what house he would be in. The last time he was supposed to go to Slytherin. Now though…he wasn’t the naïve eleven year old who was starved from affection and abused. He had lived too many years. Even had a fling with a boy three generations below him at some point in his life. And a Malfoy to boot. Draco would be catching flies in his mouth if he found out that his great grandchild shagged his school rival. It was a very very short fling anyway, one that ended painlessly. Harry had just been lonely at the time and all his friends were dead anyway so it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t turn away Draco’s incredibly attractive great grandchild who flirted relentlessly with him during the rare times Harry went out in his real appearance save the scar. He was the only one night stand Harry’s ever had.. And he wasn’t sure now if he should keep that information to himself and never share it with Tom or if he should tell the boy some time because he felt oddly guilty even though they weren’t together and nor did Tom have any business with his past. He hadn’t known about the soulmate thing during the time.

He shook his scattered thoughts away and sat on the stool, ignoring the whispers of his famous surname echoing in the halls.

“Hello Alistair,” he greeted mentally.

“Oh…dear Merlin…. The boy who lived…Master of Death…what a life you’ve had. Even death was taken away from you to find peace. Peace that you very well deserve Mr. Potter.”

“It’s Peverell now,” Harry corrected him gently.

“Right. Now, with the way you are, you are definitely not Slytherin material. You don’t have much ambition left in you nor even a decent amount of self preservation. And a Gryffindor you are not. You’re too indifferent now to be one. You hardly even care which house I put you in. You can be a Ravenclaw but you’re love for Mr. Gaunt is the most prominent thing about you at the moment. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you sane…”

“It is…” Harry agreed, knowing how far he’d gone during those last few years before he talked to Death.

“Then you’ll be—“

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Harry smiled bemusedly and carefully handed the hat back to professor Dumbledore who seemed quite surprised. Harry wondered why until he realized everyone was assuming someone from the Peverell line would most definitely go to Slytherin, or at least Ravenclaw. But Harry had no problem with the House of the Loyal. People should really get over their prejudices.

The students made space for him, smiling warmly, eyes glued to him curiously. He smiled back easily, meeting their eyes and feeling a swell of relief when he realized he couldn’t find any of his friend’s family members among them. The only Hufflepuff he ever really got to know a bit was Cedric, and look how that turned out for him. The Diggorys must be either a generation above this batch of students or below it. So he was quite safe from having the pain of missing all of his friends revisiting him every time he met the eyes of his housemates. He understood death more than anyone. But missing the people who are gone is an entirely different matter all together. He accepted Ron’s abrupt departure but he missed his laugh and his tactless comments and observations. He sat by Hermione’s deathbed along with her grown up children and said his goodbyes but he missed her nagging voice and her acceptance. Harry felt like a part of him died every single time someone passed on. Hell, he couldn’t even stop himself from apparating over to Malfoy Manor when Death told him it was Draco’s time. The blonde still had some affectionately spiteful remarks even to the end and Harry found himself missing his snark and his bitching. Even his hissy fits. Which he has no trouble admitting since he’s already dead and will never know.

Harry paused in his delusional and reminiscent thoughts. It was hard to keep himself from drifting when he’s had almost a 500 years of life’s worth of memories and experiences.

“Hello Peverell, I’m Arran Smith,” a boy introduced, giving Harry a vague glimpse of Zacharias Smith’s pompous bratty self back in his Hogwarts days. He was blonde like him, but he seemed nicer of sorts. Hopefully he was because the Smith he knew was a right arse and a huge coward. Harry suspected that the only reason he got sorted into Hufflepuff was because he couldn’t fit into any other house. His main traits were all self-inclined. No bravery, no ambition, and no thirst for knowledge, and certainly no loyalty other than to himself. He had a head bigger than Draco’s and spouted out ridiculous proclamations of being the last of Helga Hufflpuff’s line—which, unfortunately, turned out to be true. Sadly, he had nothing but blood to back it up since he was exceptional in nothing but doubting others and running the other way once things got bad.

“Harry Peverell,” he replied with a polite nod.

“So how come a Peverell, a family known for dark arts, especially necromancy, was sorted into our house?” An upper year leaned over the table, looking at him not with judgement and suspicion but merely curiosity.

“I didn’t quite catch your name,” Harry smiled.

“Jasper Mcmillan. I’m a 3rd year just like that big friend of yours, Greyback was it?” He said with a friendly grin.

“Oh, how’d you know he was my friend?” Harry asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“Quite obvious when he makes sure you don’t trip and talks to you and Gaunt easily. Did you three know each other before you came here?” A girl asked, joining in the conversation. “I’m Amelia. Amelia Bones.” Harry blinked in surprise, remembering the future version of the girl, the one who he first met in court—wait no, Bones should have been born around…1978? No wasn't that the other Bones? Or was it...

The grandmother-or grand aunt basically. Amelia was named after her. Your little classmate Susan never met her. Death supplied with a bored drawl.

“Nice of you to drop by,” Harry thought sarcastically while he replied to the children and their curious thoughts. “Tom and I grew up together. Fenrir lived close by. So yes, we were friends before we ever came here.”

“You haven’t answered my question about your sorting though,” Mcmillan reminded.

“I’m just as lost as you are. Everyone keeps expecting me to just suddenly bring the dead back to life or some ludicrous notion like such. But the only spells I know are from the first year books we were assigned and those had nothing on necromancy. I don’t know if my magic is light or dark. But the hat placed me here for my loyalty,” he shrugged inelegantly as the last kid was sorted and the table filled with delicious goods.

“Loyalty to whom?” Asked Bones.

Perceptive little one.

“To my friends,” Harry said with another shrug.

He could only hope they don’t ask too many questions. It was already bad enough that he didn’t get to room with Tom. So now he couldn’t sneak into his bed because he’d have to sneak into his entire dorm, which won’t be much of a problem since he could tap into the school wards and allow himself to apparate but still.

A soft sigh escaped him as he looked longingly over his shoulder to where Tom was busy talking to Abraxas Malfoy. He could really use a hug right about now. They just arrived here and he already missed Tom.

You’ve become entirely too dependent on your soulmate Master. Death commented while Harry sullenly ate his food. What will you do once the boy acquires a lover and will want time alone with him or her?

Harry paused, glaring hard at his next bite because of that. “I’d leave them to it of course…I mean. Being soulmates does not automatically mean h-he’d become my lover or something. We could just turn out as friends…parent and child…confidants… But not necessarily lovers…right...”

You seem conflicted. Do you want to be lovers?

Harry choked on his food as visions of gorgeous sixteen-year-old Tom flashed in the very front of his mind.

Bones patted his back, concerned and Smith handed him some water which he gratefully drank.

It wasn’t like he’s never thought of it. Being l-lovers with Tom. But Harry’s been keeping those thoughts away due to their current age difference. It would be completely immoral to think of a child that way. And the thought of that knowing smirk down at the chambers made Harry’s blood run hot for a totally different reason. It flustered him way too much. Especially when the current Tom flashed him the same exact expression from time to time. So although Harry says accepting rubbish about being okay with anything Tom wants, his own desires were very much ignored.

Oh my poor Master…lusting after a child. It’s quite alright, you could’ve turned out worse.

“Shut up you meddling bag of bones,” Harry told him spitefully.

Tom watched as Harry gave him a small wave before he disappeared with the other badgers. His eyes automatically wandered over to where Fenrir seemed to be unwillingly dragged into a conversation with a very enthusiastic and friendly lion, making Tom smirk as he followed the other Slytherins into the dungeons. It didn’t come a surprise to him, the layout of Hogwarts. He made Harry talk extensively about the castle and had bought several books about the famous school to know more than most first years.

He wondered why he never really thought of what house Harry would be in. He was a lion before, but he was also almost placed in Slytherin. But loyalty did seem to fit him well. And Harry was too sweet on him to seem like anything else. He was as soft as a kitten most days and yet he feels like death personified whenever someone made the mistake of crossing him. Tom nodded to himself conclusively. Harry was definitely going to be a formidable puff.

Speaking of formidable.

He let his magic slither around, tasting his fellow first years with a flick of its imaginary tongue, narrowing down the number of first years who had magic in delicious abundance. It was surprising to him that there were in fact quite a big number. Although he was pretty sure they didn’t compare to his and even to Fenrir’s magic, they had great potential.

He reached up almost unconsciously to the earring he had on, a silver serpent curling at the curve of his ear. It was a gift from Harry. One that allowed him to conceal his magic completely. Harry had told him that his magical core was beyond that of a normal eleven year old child due to the early practice of magic as well as the way Harry groomed him a little too well. He didn’t mind and he liked the snake. It looked good on him too. He honestly thought he’d receive one identical to the one Harry wore on his right ear. It was usually invisible, something he still couldn’t quite understand. But Harry said it helped to keep his magic held together, especially when his temper was acting up. It was golden in the shape of a triangular eye from what Tom caught glimpses of.

Now though, he wondered how his peers would have reacted if he didn’t have the little trinket on him. It would surely be amusing but it would do him more trouble than anything else. The older years already seem to dislike him. Mostly due to their silly belief in blood purity and his family’s tarnished reputation. He was positive they were already planning on putting him in his rightful place soon. Except, they probably had the wrong impression on where exactly that was. To them and their ridiculous ideologies, he deserved nothing more than to be at the very bottom of the food chain. While to Tom, it was simply the throne. He won’t settle for anything less. Although he wasn’t sure he’d like to rule over simpletons who can’t live up to their supremacy talk.

Calm down Tom, speak no more of ruling, it’s your first day, he told himself. It was a little too ambitious, he thought. Harry told you to enjoy. Make friends. And that made Tom roll his eyes. Harry and his bloody adorable fussing.

“Welcome to Slytherin, first years. I am Elias Rowle, Slytherin prefect. As some of you may not be aware, we are not the same as the other houses here in Hogwarts. Slytherins are cunning, clever, and ambitious. We hold our head high and act as a united front in the face of the other houses. Whatever happens inside our house, stays within the house. We do not rush into things like a reckless Gryffindor, we do not just bury our noses in books like a Ravenclaw, and we do not mindlessly let our guards down like those friendly Hufflepuffs. We are Slytherins. We are patient enough to know when to strike, when to withdraw. We are not cowards. We do not let anyone get away with insulting us. But we are wise enough to know when action must be taken ad when we have the upper hand. While others go down, we Slytherins thrive and survive. And now that you’re a part of this noble house, it is expected of you to live up to the standards and make your house proud. So once again I welcome you,” Elias said while the Head of House, a fat tall balding man gave them a cheerful smile.

“Now as you have been informed earlier in the Great Hall, this is professor Slughorn. He’s our Head of House and the potions professor,” the prefect said.

“If any of you have any problems, you’re free to come see me in my office. I also look forward to seeing you all perform brilliantly here at Hogwarts. Can’t find a better school than this anywhere. I’ll see you in potions everyone.” The man smiled at them all and left them to be led into their rooms.

“We’re sharing a room,” Malfoy smiled at Tom. He was quite a friendly fellow, Tom thought. He expected the Malfoy heir to be more uptight…but although he observed proper way of conduct and held himself like the aristocrat he is, he still held an approachable air.

“So we are, Malfoy,” Tom said cordially and was surprised to receive a frown from the blonde.

“Oh come off it Gaunt. Call me Abraxas,” he said as they entered their rooms.

Tom decided to answer truthfully, lip curling a little, “It’s a bit of a mouthful don’t you think? Compared to Malfoy that is.”

“Ab then or Braxas, but please, not Malfoy. Reminds me too much of my father,” the boy smiled ruefully. “Great man, but it feels odd to be addressed the way he is.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “I am not calling you Ab. It sounds ridiculous.” He chose a bed as their other roommates trickled in. Malfoy chose the bed beside him and started russling through his trunk.

"What's so ridiculous about it?” The boy asked I amusement. “Can I call you Thomas then?”

“Marvolo. I prefer my second name,” Tom muttered as he took out his sleeping clothes.

Malfoy tilted his head, most likely about to ask why Fenrir and Harry called him Tom. But the blonde withdrew and smiled, nodding instead. “Marvolo then.”

Tom nodded, thinking how he and the blonde could actually get along well.

The others introduced themselves as Cristopher Avery, Thaddeus Nott, and Owen Rosier. They were five in a room and while Malfoy seemed okay to Tom, the other three were he still wasn’t sure of. Avery seemed a bit obnoxious. Certainly the loudest of the bunch. Nott was quiet, whether it was shyness or indifference, Tom didn’t know yet. And Rosier…well, he seemed laid-back and sarcastic, already riling Avery up with a few well placed remarks that brought a flush of indignation onto the other boy’s face.

Tom wished Malfoy goodnight, surprising himself since he was used to doing so with Harry and Fenrir. He could easily see the bright grin on Malfoy’s face as he looked like it was a pleasant surprise for him as well.

Tom rolled his eyes at himself after shutting the curtains, glad for the silencing charms that were on them as he fingered the earring. Harry had petulently agreed to give them two weeks to themselves. Two weeks before he was welcome to do whatever he wanted, like say, infiltrate their individual houses. It made Tom smile warmly at the thought of Harry in the Slytherin common room, ignoring all the stares from the other snakes. He was pretty sure he’d do that to Fenrir as well once the two week ban was over. No doubt he’d have the entire house fawning over him too. The lions and the badgers don’t stand a chance once Harry decides to win them over. But Tom was incredibly curious how he’ll do that with the snakes.

Well, he’ll have to wait and see. For now, Tom was going to focus on his classes, hoping they won’t be a total bore.

Chapter Text

“Er…” Tom wouldn’t normally be so ineloquent the way he was as of the moment, but connecting the person he met the day before and the one standing in front of him was a little unsettling.

Abraxas was staring at him with such horror while his entire face and neck were flushed with mortification as he desperately tried to tame the wild blonde hair that looked impressively crazy in comparison to its sleek perfection the day before. “Merlin why are you up this early!?” He hissed, bright eyes staring accusingly at Tom as if he had planned to humiliate him this way all along.

“I always wake up early,” Tom said calmly, regaining his composure and pursing his lips to try and hold back a smile. “I’m assuming that you woke early to tend to…” He said trailing off the obvious.

Abraxas groaned and hid his face behind his hands. “Right.” He hurried off, back straight as if trying to muster as much dignity as he could despite his current appearance. Tom merely watched him with a slight smile before heading off to take a bath.

He was surprised to find that the blonde had finished before him later on, hair perfectly done with a green ribbon tied to the bottom of its length in an aristocratic fashion. He looked just as elegant as he did the day before and Tom wanted to laugh at the image he had been greeted with in the morning. It reminded him of Harry’s wild untamable locks that seemed to like him enough to follow, even just for a little bit.

He started to fix his hair, wearing it in his usual cleanly kept style that Harry always wants to mischievously mess up, and which Fenrir teases him for. He usually just ignored both of them, since they had savage locks that Tom would rather not use as an example for himself.

When Abraxas still sat on his bed, staring at him, he belatedly realized that the blonde was waiting for him. Tom couldn’t help feeling delighted but it wasn’t like he was going to show it. So he decided to push the boy’s buttons while their other roommates were starting to stir. “Aren’t you going to head down to breakfast yet Malfoy?” He asked casually still using the boy’s last name, fixing his tie and silently marveling at the thought that he was finally here at Hogwarts.

“I was waiting for you,” Abraxas replied simply, “Are you quite done yet? I’m really hungry now.”

Tom decided to change his impression of the boy, finding him quite surprisingly not the typical pureblood he had thought. He had this notion that pureblood heirs were as stuck up as their idiot parents whose silly ideas held them back from progressing further in the wizarding community. They would have had their noses in the air, their eyes constantly looking down on people they thought were beneath them much like the ones he met last night. His roommates hadn’t fallen into that category yet, but he assumed the Malfoy heir would surely be too way over his head to even act in such an obviously friendly and casual fashion. Especially towards a halfblood like him.

He wanted to be Tom’s friend.

He never had a friend before. The savage didn’t count, and Harry was his Harry.

So Tom found himself having breakfast with Abraxas who seemed quite excited for their first day. “Have you practiced some of the spells they’re to teach us?” He asked after a sip of his drink. He had all the proper table manners and grace etched into his movement, yet he still found a way not to look stiff and seem cheerful but classy. Tom was impressed. Harry ought to take lessons from the blonde.

“Yes,” Tom replied before continuing with his meal.

“Don’t tell me you’ve tried all of them?” Abraxas joked, although there seemed to be a genuinely curious note in his voice.

“Maybe,” Tom smirked.

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised,” Abraxas chuckled, “You do seem the type.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tom asked, brows furrowing. What did he mean by type?

Abraxas smiled and dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Don’t play dumb now Marvolo. Your magic reeks of power. And not the kind that’s just raw. Yours feels seasoned. I noticed it from standing close long enough to taste a bit of it. As you’ve most likely deducted when we were first welcomed with Hogwarts’ magic, I’m also sensitive to magic. So that, as well as your body language gives you away quite easily as someone who knows magic beyond first year level,” he said in a low enough volume that could only be heard by Tom who was honest to Merlin, shocked, that he was obviously that transparent. No, of course he wasn’t. It’s just that this sneaky blonde was more perceptive and observant than he gave him credit for.

“Well, now I feel quite violated. Is this your way of telling me you want to be friends?” He asked wryly.

Abraxas full on grinned. “Perhaps. You are quite interesting and surprisingly nice. Despite giving off a dangerous vibe.”

“Why thank you Malfoy. I do believe that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” Tom drawled although he was finding this strangely fun, conversing with the weird blonde.

He hadn’t noticed that most of the other students have already trickled in but he instantly felt Harry’s presence in the room, causing him to turn around slowly, eyes locking with big green ones. Harry seemed to be contemplating on heading over to his table and when he tilted his head with an openly pleading expression, Tom smiled and gently shook his head, causing the boy to pout and drag his feet glumly over to the Hufflepuff table.

Fenrir on the other hand (who Tom only noticed was at his own House’s table with some very happy lions) was signaling towards Harry who brightened and actually laughed but shook his head as well, telling the wolf that he won’t come over. It seemed that Harry would easily discard the two-week-ban to sit with Tom but would firmly keep it for Fenrir to suffer.

When Tom returned his attention to Abraxas, he found him staring at him with a curious expression, eyes darting to Harry and Fenrir. Tom immediately wiped the traces of fondness that was no doubt on his face, wearing a crafted mask despite it already being too late to hide whatever Abraxas saw.

Slytherins were known for exploiting everyone’s weakness. And although he liked the blonde, he of course won’t trust him yet.

To say that he regretted studying way beyond the first year curriculum was a little close to the truth. Tom sighed as he reviewed the scarcity of his notes where instead of lines that defined points of the lecture, he had simply jotted down the general topic of their discussion and to which part of it they ended. He didn’t raise his hand for anything the entire day, quite disappointed with how little he’ll learn until he reaches third year. He admits that its his fault for still making Harry teach him basic theories that he was able to apply and use for more complicated spellwork and for pestering extra lessons out of Harry despite their agreement to take the lessons slow and to try and not touch subjects that’ll be taught at Hogwarts. Harry had adamantly insisted he not try to learn more beyond what he had taught him if he didn’t want to bore himself at Hogwarts, and now true enough, he was bored out of his mind.

The lectures weren’t even comparable to Harry’s! They were incredibly and outrageously inferior! He couldn’t really fault the professors who really were knowledgeable about their subjects and had mastery of their own particular branch of magic, but then they weren’t as good at teaching as Harry was.

Tom sighed internally. Harry warned him. And now he had to suffer through lessons he already knew. He had to do first level spells instead of learning new things. When they were asked to lift the stupid feather. He lifted the stupid feather. When he was asked to transform the blasted matchstick into a needle, he transformed the bloody stick into a bloody needle. Merlin he could do these things wandlessly.

Abraxas was having a laugh at his expense while his eye twitched with impatience. The blonde seemed to sense his dilemma without him having to say anything. Professor Dumbledore gave their house points for Tom being the first to do the task and Tom merely smiled with mock modesty while deep inside he was trying hard not to pull at his hair. He wasn’t usually so impatient and restless. That was Fenrir’s job. And Harry’s. He was the calm one. He was the one who held himself together at all times.

But by the end of the day, he just wanted to run over to Harry and complain. Not whine. Never whine.

So when Harry did that pleading thing across the great hall again during dinner, he touched his earring and watched as Harry’s eyes brightened. The moment Tom reached his room, drew the curtains of his bed and warded it, he hissed, “Soul of mine”.

He felt the magic tingle against his ear and suddenly he could hear Harry’s voice through the piece of jewelry. “Tom?”

“Harry,” Tom croaked, incredibly surprised with the sudden rush of longing that resounded in his voice. He felt pathetic, missing Harry after not being anywhere near him for an entire day, because of a ban that HE came up with. Ridiculous.

“Hello love,” Harry said softly, fondly, “how was your day?”

“It was…it was okay,” Tom said as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. And it was…okay. If he stopped thinking of how boring it had been, the first day was okay. Abraxas was good company and it was entertaining to see his fellow snakes give him measured looks whenever he got a spell on his first try. He could feel a wave of relief wash over him as he drank in Harry’s presence through the connection. He heard a bit of rustling, hearing Harry move from his end of the line. “How was yours?”

“Boring. I miss you. And I’m having fun leaving Fenrir at the mercy of those lions,” Harry chuckled. “I hope you weren’t too disappointed with such basic lessons. I know you’re too ahead of the first year curriculum to really enjoy them.”

“No, no,” Tom said, “I’m alright. It’s slow. And a little frustrating but I’ll survive.” He could not help but feel himself sag into his bed, the tension leaving him. Harry was like this soft strong glow in his life. Like a warm blanket that anchored him. “I can’t imagine how it must’ve been for you. You’re around how old and yet here you are, having lessons with children who must seem like todlers to you.”

“I have an idea,” Harry brightened, “why don’t I give you a little side project that can keep you busy? Just another one of my assignments like back at home.”

Tom hummed feeling a little sleepy but very interested, “I’m listening.”

“I want you to make a map out of Hogwarts.”

“What?” Tom grumbled, trying to stifle a yawn.

“A map my lovely Tom,” Harry laughed. “I’ll give you two months to complete the task. The spells you’ll use are completely up to you and I suggest you explore the school library if you think you don’t know enough.”

“What will I get out of this?” Tom mused but his speech was starting to get a bit slurred. Harry’s persistence in enforcing his 8pm curfew was already showing its effects on Tom.

“Mmmmmm…I’ll show you Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets. You’ll get to meet the Basilisk.”

“M’kay…” Tom agreed sleepily, barely conscious. Harry’s voice sounded nice…because Harry is nice…and warm…

“Tom?” Harry asked quietly, smiling to himself as he heard Tom’s even breathing from the other end of the connection. He cut it off after listening to him sleeping for a few more minutes. Tom seemed to be missing him too and that calmed Harry down. It had been maddening, getting separated from his little soulmate the entire day. He was so used to sneaking in a couple of touches here and there that once he wasn’t allowed, he felt like he was having withrawals already. Little Amelia, who he now figured was his Amelia Bones’  great aunt, seemed to have taken it upon herself to baby him, stating that he was too clumsy to be left on his own. It was terribly amusing to find her mothering him like Hermione did, just less bossy and naggy. She helped distract him from wanting to go storming into whatever class the Slytherins were having and plaster himself onto Tom’s side. Arran didn’t really remind Harry of anyone he had ever met so it was a bit refreshing to get to know the lad. He had good control of his magic but was lacking understanding when it comes to magic’s nature and its theories. Harry had to teach the two puffs how to do most of the potion work and earned his house points from Slughorn for giving the perfect potion. He shivered when he felt Slughorn mark him as one of his little favorites, the creep.

Jasper Mcmillan liked to ruffle his hair whenever they passed each other, and the older badgers that walked with him often cooed when he pouted.

And when he ran into Fenrir in the hallway by the end of his last period, he all but barreled towards him despite his morning’s decision to happily leave Fen to the lions.

“Fen!” He exclaimed, going for a big hug that Fenrir laughingly reciprocated.

“Hey there pup,” he grinned into Harry’s hair. It was just so good to soak up some energy from family. It was the next best thing to Tom’s presence.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry grumbled, and he distantly heard some of the lions that had been walking with Fenrir go ‘awww.’

“Funny you say that because I remember you deserting me this morning,” the taller boy mused as he smirked down at Harry. “And what happened to the two week ban? Are we cancelling it already?”

“No,” Harry sighed, finally letting go with one small step back while Fenri still loosely held him. “Tom’s still good with it. And I think it’d be good for you to make friends on your own.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so,” laughed someone behind them. Harry poked his head from under Fenrir’s arm to see. “Hello,” he greeted.

“Hi little badger. Charlus Potter, at your service,” the boy said with a mock bow.

Harry’s eyes widened at the sight of his grandfather. He had the same wild potter hair except they were brown instead of black and his eyes were hazel like his dad’s. “I’m Harry.”

The others didn’t really have a chance to introduce themselves because Fenrir started shooing them away throwing a rather nasty sneer over his shoulder at Potter who shook his head with a grin, “That one’s the biggest bother of the lot. He won’t leave me alone Harbear,” he whined.

“I’m sure you’ll be great friends,” Harry beamed.

“It’s the first day and I already want to bite his head off!” Fenrir hissed, pulling at Harry’s cheeks.

“You’ll be fine. No bitin’,” Harry said after slapping Fenrir’s hands away. “Don’t be so quick to judge cub. He won’t be as annoying once you actually get to know him.”

Fenrir raised a brow. “Why? You know him from…?” He waved a hand to indicate Harry’s time travel thing, making Harry laugh. “Yes, yeah. Although I don’t know him personally, I know he’s not a bad person.”

Fenrir grunted and ruffled Harry’s hair before he ushered him back to Harry’s little first year friends who looked very curious what the whole thing was about. Harry simply waved them off, not really telling them anything. The rest of the day was very much uneventful apart from the time Harry pleaded to Tom to let him sit at their table but instead got the signal for a later call.

Now Harry lay on his bed, comparing the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff dorms and finding the badgers’ place homier and cozier. He especially liked their security despite him adding multiple wards on his trunk. His roommates weren’t very nosy and were generally an accommodating and friendly bunch. There were a few that struck out as a bit odd, like they didn’t really seem to belong anywhere, but the older years were quick to make them feel like they were welcome in their house, which Harry’s years of being a headmaster approved of dearly.

“Your little soulmate seems to be doing fine,” said Death out of nowhere like he always did.

“I expected so,” Harry hummed. “It’s the pureblood name that got him to be accepted so easily rather than the way he had been ostracized the first time. And I’m sure the boy’s planning on taking over soon." The higher years keep eyeing the little ones. Seeming to be screening them which Harry frowned at. He understood that the Slytherins during his and his parents’ time did the screening for Voldemort but these purebloods didn’t really have a dark lord with them to act that way for.

Speaking of dark lords.

“Death, what is our dear Gellert up to these days?” He asked, fingers playing with the symbol of the hallows that dangled on his ear.

“He’s prancing around preaching. But he’s also looking for you, well, the one who stole ‘his’ wand.”

Harry waved a couple of spells until he was clean and in his nightwear, ready for bed while he contemplated on whether he had to do something about silly Mr. Grindelwald. The man was quite obsessed with the hallows. But as long as he didn’t cause trouble, then everything should be fine.

“Inform me if he does something that might concern me,” he ordered Death with a sigh.

“As you wish.”

He felt the darkness disappear and he breathed slowly in and out, already thinking about something else, specifically his task for Tom. He wondered if Tom could do it within the time he gave him. He wondered if the boy would even use the same set of spells the marauders wove together. Either way he couldn’t wait to see.

The rest of the week flowed much like the first day. Harry tried not to show off but could not stop himself from teaching his classmates without any regard as to what house they were in. He did his homework on the day it was given and never raised his hand to answer any question. He tried to fade into the background and while he generally succeeded with the teachers, his classmates spotted him immediately the way birds see their prey. It seems that among his housemates, he’s become the person to go to for help when it comes to lesson clarifications.

“How are you so smart?” Amelia once asked him. Sweet girl as she was, Harry wanted to throttle her for telling everyone how great a teacher he is.

“I’m a Peverell,” Harry shrugs inelegantly, trying not to sound cross with her.

“Thanks Harry,” Arran murmured as he handed him back his notes. He definitely prefered Arran to the rest of the children that flock to hi. He was very loyal and he didn’t go around telling other people they can just go to Harry for help.

“No problem Arran,” he said with a smile.

Most of the professors, except for Dumbledore (because the bastard is too much of a meddler to lose sight of him) sort of forgot him once in their class. Slughorn too though, since the man locked onto his last name and good class performance during his first potion class. The only other time Harry allowed himself to shine was during flying lessons. He mounted his broom much like everyone else but when two of the students lost control of their brooms, he easily saved them and attracted the eyes of their quidditch team.

Harry was quite okay still during the first week, although he still begged Tom to lift the ban every morning and evening at the great hall. Every time the answer was a smiling no which wasn’t so bad since Tom looked so fond of him. But he was going mad without his daily dose of soulmate affection. He sometimes ran into Fenrir who didn’t really care about the ban and even brought him into the Gryffindor common room once. The lions coddled him nonstop and it was enough to scare him away from the lion’s den for good.

Once the second week started, having spent the weekends without Tom was driving him mad. He NEEDED his Tom. Just a hug would suffice. JUST ONE HUG. He hadn’t even received any more calls from the boy. Although he did look very busy scavenging the library for spells that would help him create the map Harry assigned him. He was also spending a lot of time with the Malfoy child, and sometimes even that Rosier kid.

Harry decided to keep quiet. Keep himself together. It was only a few more days. The moment Sunday kicks in he’ll get his fix. He just missed him terribly. It’s like being presented a blanket for warmth and yet you’re told you have to suffer the cold and leave the perfectly lovely blanket alone. So Harry spent the second week locked up in the Room of Requirement making potions for delivery and practicing his transfiguration skills. Death visited him every other day, riling him up and teasing him. Arran and Amelia looked for him most times but can never really tail him despite their daily attempts which Harry greatly enjoyed and found very cute.

And then Sunday came.

Tom was in their common room, working on the map and hating how he was struggling a bit. This was the hardest task Harry had ever given him. It would require a complicated mix of interwoven spells that would require a delicate and carefully constructed weave of magic that will work together and—

Tom pursed his lips in frustration, hissing quietly to himself as he scribbled a few more spells in parselscript on the notebook he proudly charmed with privacy spells himself. He was only about 15% into the project. He didn’t know enough. And spell weaving was still something he was very rusty with.

“Have you done the essay for Transfiguration?” Rosier asked, sitting down beside him. Tom ignored him, a course of action he decided was best when dealing with the boy.

“Have you Marvolo?” Asked Abraxas as he looked up from his own essay.

“Yes.” Tom went back to his work.

“Wow. Blatant favoritism,” Rosier laughed, enjoying how much of a nuisance he was.

“Who’s favorite?” Asked Black.

“Malfoy. He’s To—“ he bit his lip when Tom paused in his writing at the mention of his name, his magic zeroing in on Rosier who laughed shakily before coughing and continuing, “I mean Marvolo here…he favors Malfoy.”

Abraxas shook his head amused at the way Rosier cowered and yet still stuck around Marvolo, while Tom rolled his eyes at no one in particular and resumed—

“You have a new favorite tom?”

His head snapped up and lo and behold Harry appeared in front of him arms crossed and an adorable pout on his lips.

Chapter Text

Abraxas Malfoy liked to think that he was a good example of what a Slytherin student ought to be like. He kept his cool, observed his surroundings, knew when to talk, when to smile, what kind of people he was dealing with, He developed these traits after growing up as a Malfoy. His father was, and still is, quite the narrow minded person, categorizing things under black and white without considering the shades of grey in between. But Abraxas liked exploring those in between, finding it much more fascinating than the two ends that his father arrogantly breathed. The man was a figure in pureblood society and was quite good at making and managing money. He loved him though, and the man took family seriously.  

 Abraxas was sure he would have grown up to be exactly like him if not for his mother. She was the Slytherin one in the couple. Abraxas has watched her manipulate her husband with skilled subtlety and grace. She liked to humor him and kept him out of trouble. She was nice and did not look up or down at people. She took them as they are, and usually filed in the information as it is. She taught Abraxas how to observe and come up with generally accurate conclusions about other people. She was the one who taught him how to mask his emotions.  

Which was why when a small green-eyed boy popped in out of nowhere in the middle of their common room, Abraxas’ only reaction was the simple widening of his eyes while the other gave a noise of surprise and confusion, drawing their wands at the intruder. The boy had literally appeared out of nowhere!  

“Where in the world did you come from!?” Black exclaimed, looking at the closed entrance and back at the boy who didn’t even spare them a glance, pouting petulantly at Marvolo who looked pleasantly surprised.  

“Who led you here?” Lestrange asked, narrowing his eyes at the intruder, wand steadily aimed.  

“Gaunt, care to explain this?” Avery sneered.  

Abraxas remained quiet, watching everything curiously. It was just them around. Most of the upper years were out around the castle at this time of the day. If they were here, Marvolo would definitely be in serious trouble. 

“What are you doing here Harry?” Marvolo asked, lips struggling not to curl into a smile. It was as if he didn't know...As if it wasn't surprising to find an outsider within their dorm. Abraxas worried that Marvolo was completely unaware of the unspoken rule. This was Slytherin territory. It didn't matter if the intruder was from the house of the loyal. Outsiders were not allowed inside. Ever. Unless of course permitted so by their Head of House or their prefect. 

“It’s Sunday.” And as if that explained everything, Harry Peverell shrugged and moved a strangely amused Rosier whose face quickly morphed into shock as he found himself a good distance away from Marvolo.  

But who could blame him after that blatant display of wandless magic.  

“Did he just—“  

“What—“  

Marvolo chuckled, holding out a placating hand in front of him. Abraxas belatedly realized that Peverell was about to sit on the space he made by moving Rosier. “No Harry,” Marvolo said shaking his head, a smile breaking out, making him look kinder and more approachable than Abraxas has ever seen him look during the two weeks he knew him. He watched as Peverell visibly held back, planting himself firmly where he stood, practically vibrating with pent up energy. He looked impatient and determined.  

Every single one of them was more than a little shocked by Marvolo's reaction to the current happenings. Their normally quiet, intimidating, and aloof friend was... smiling. Sure he smirked and gave those very rare small smile that were usually only aimed at Abraxas, but those were quick and easily missed. This…well this was the first time they’ve ever really seen it. 

“Why not?” Harry demanded with a whine, completely ignoring the looks he was being given.  

“How did you even get in here?” Marvolo asked curiously, ignoring the question while remaining in his seat. Abraxas noticed his hand twitch on his lap, and Abraxas wondered if that was because he wanted to be near Peverell as much as Peverell seemed to want to pounce him.  

“I’ll tell you later. Now can I?” Peverell grumbled, tapping his foot impatiently. Was this boy suicidal? Abraxas glanced warily at the entrances from the rooms and the main common room door, praying, for Marvolo's sake, that none of the higher years come inside. 

He needed the badger to leave before they all get in trouble. 

With an amused sigh, Marvolo packed up his stuff and stood, looking as if he was moving with deliberate slowness, causing Peverell to radiate impatience. Abraxas realized that he was teasing him, testing his limits and waiting for him to snap.  

And snap he did.  

When Marvolo made a point to turn to check carefully if he had left anything, the Hufflepuff just sprang at him, tackling him onto the couch, surprising everyone except Abraxas who was expecting it.  

A startled breathless laugh escaped Marvolo as the boy burrowed into him, holding on for dear life, squirming for a few seconds before he all but sagged into his friend. It was so clear, their closeness that Abraxas had to wonder why they hadn’t spoken at all these past two weeks. The only ever interaction he witnessed from them being those odd looks Peverell gives Marvolo during breakfast and dinner. And he wished desperately that this oh so touching reunion was conducted anywhere else but here. 

“Harry, Harry get off me,” Marvolo chided gently, his hand combing through long black hair.  

“You’re such a git,” Peverell said into his neck.  

“Mmmm, and it isn’t very comfortable, this position we’re in. Everyone’s looking as well,” Marvolo replied, giving all of them a look that only seemed to fuel their confusion. They didn’t know how the other boy even managed to get in. One moment they were just talking, bantering, and the next there he was, announcing his presence and startling them all. Who was this Peverell boy? From the short two weeks Abraxas spent with Marvolo, he found out that they grew up together. But that was basically it. His name was never really mentioned by any of the teachers, and when they share classes with them, Peverell never had much of a presence. And yet here he was, doing wandless magic in front of them, tackling Marvolo despite the entire two weeks of not talking to one another. They didn’t seem to have fought or anything.   

“How did he get in!?” Black persisted. “One minute everything was normal! And then he was just standing there! I didn’t even see anyone going through the entrance!”  

“That’s impossible,” Lestrange sniffed, “You must’ve missed it.”  

“And now you’ve caused a great mess,” Abraxas heard Marvolo mutter. Peverell didn’t respond, simply burrowing himself further into Marvolo’s clothes. The others started arguing with each other over what they saw and occasionally threw a demanding question and a pointed accusation in the other two’s direction.   

As much as Tom felt the need to focus and just absorb the warmth that was Harry, his fellow housemates were becoming irritable. He wished Harry had picked a better time to ambush him like this. “Can you all be quiet?” He told the noisy bunch, letting some sliver of magic wrap around his voice to emphasize his request. He maneuvered Harry in a way that would allow him to stand while carrying the brat who wouldn’t let go.  

“Where are you going?” Avery demanded, “He’s a trespasser! We ought to do something about this. Or was it you who told him the password and led him the way? If the Rowle finds out—“  

“Quiet,” Tom ordered. He didn’t mean to snap. But they were getting on his nerves. “I didn’t tell anyone the password. Nor did I even tell him where our dorms are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to deal with…this.” He gestured at Harry who stuck to him like glue, forcing him to cast a feather light charm on him as he started walking out of their common room deaf to the way Abraxas had tried to get his attention with an urgent expression on his face.  

“Not gonna introduce me to your friends?” Harry teased from where he clung to him as they exited the Slytherin common room and walked down the halls, ignoring the curious looks they received from the other students they passed by.  

“They’re not my friends,” Tom replied rolling his eyes. But it was true. They weren’t his friends. Merely his housemates.  

“Not even the Malfoy boy?” Harry asked, raising a brow.  

“Maybe,” Tom said after a thoughtful pause, stopping at an empty classroom. He was incredibly more tolerable compared to everyone else. He was smart and knew how to be quiet.  

Harry studied his face before finally letting him go with a smile, “That’s good to hear.”  

“So, what about you?” Tom inquired as Harry ran his small hands through his hair, reminding him of the once big rough warm ones that used to do the same before Harry de-aged himself.  

“It’s okay. It just gets a little maddening to deal with children all the time. They’re all so curious,” Harry smiled ruefully. “And noisy too.”  

“Fenrir’s noisy,” Tom pointed out leaning into his touch, drinking in the affection. He had been very aware of how bad he’d missed this. Merlin it’s only been two weeks. The longest they’ve been apart was two days. And that only happened once which was three years ago. 

“I honestly prefer that, since his is more on laughter and sarcastic joking remarks, not questions and whining.” 

“I thought you became headmaster before you found me?” 

“Yeah well I didn’t sleep in the same dorms now did I? Or share the same bathroom, or dine with them…I had my colleagues to have intelligent and mature conversations with. I had the privacy of my own quarters, my own office… I wasn’t as surrounded by children as much as I am now,” Harry grumbled with a sigh, playing with Tom’s earlobe. 

“I’ve always wondered why you de-aged yourself and applied as a student. Why didn’t you just stay as you were and apply as a professor?” Tom asked, feeling slightly ticklish at the touch to his ear. He watched as Harry hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve thought about it…but it gives me limited access to you. I won’t be able to just hug you whenever I wanted. I wouldn’t be allowed to show favoritism, or sneak into your common room like I did earlier. I can’t attend the same classes as you and I wouldn’t get to see you as much. So I thought it best to go to Hogwarts as a student. That way, I get to glomp you as much as I wish to.” 

“Such a clingy child,” Tom sighed rolling his eyes. 

“Oi, I’m hundreds of years older than you brat,” Harry chided laughingly, pulling at one of Tom’s cheeks before it was lightly slapped away. “But I’m well aware of how clingy I am. How needy,” Harry said with a pleasant little shrug as he pulled Tom into a hug he allowed.   

They were still for a while, just soaking up in the warmth. It always felt nice, anything that involved his Harry. It was often warm, peaceful, light, or important. Tom’s arms had wrapped around the boy, murmuring how small he was as if he hadn’t been this way for over a year already. 

"You've said that for like the tenth time now since I took that potion," Harry said dryly before pausing curiously. "Do you miss the older version of me?" 

Tom  pursed his lips before admitting, "Sometimes. But you're still you so it doesn't really matter. You're just more manageable like this," he finished with a smirk. 

"And what do you mean by that?" Harry said, lifting his face off his shoulder to narrow his eyes at him. 

Tom said nothing and instead pulled at the boy's cheeks while the other made funny noises that must've been some form of protest. Harry was such a cute thing, he mused. 

"This is abuse!" Harry cried, green eyes sparkling as he got away and rubbed his cheeks. Tom grinned and flicked his forehead, something that Fenrir had done to him whenever they got into an argument and he ran out of ammo to throw at Tom. The bloody savage. 

Harry yelped in surprise, blinking at him. "I am so telling Fenrir you just did that." 

Tom's eyes widened before they narrowed into slits, lips pulling back into a thin line. "Harry." The mutt would never let him live it down. 

"Oh he's going to loooove this," Harry grinned impishly at him. 

"Harry." 

"Are you going to get into trouble with the other Slytherins?" 

Tom paused, startled by the question. "Why would--" 

"I wasn't really in my right mind when I went into your room—which I did through shadow travel—no it's not something I can teach you. It's part of being the Master of Death. Anyway. I know house dorms are something of like a sacred ground in this school. It's an implied rule that the students must keep outsiders from stepping foot inside. Not unless they were given permission by the Head of House or prefect. Hufflepuff has some pretty strong security too...so...I mean...all I could think of was getting to you so, I'm wondering if your little friends will...talk." 

Tom wondered now as well. He didn't really know this...rule. He thought they would at least allow...guests. It wasn't like Harry was up to anything... 

No, Tom thought with a frown. This was definitely going to be a problem. He had been too distracted by Harry's visit to realize how he was stepping into dangerous territory with his housemates. No doubt Avery would immediately report to the higher years and... 

"I'm not sure. I've noticed the system they follow. So far the prefect, Rowle seems to be at the top of the foodchain while the first years remain at the bottom," he said contemplatively. He had wondered when he should deal with this little problem. Tom did not sit well with being the bottom of any heirarchy. 

He looked back at Harry to see the boy smiling fondly at him, making him feel odd in his chest. "What?" 

"Can I watch?" 

"Pardon?" 

"Can I watch?" Harry simply repeated. 

Tom furrowed his brows, not quite understanding what Harry was—oh. "You want to be there when I take over my own house. And you think I, a mere eleven year old, can overthrow a seventh year and take over my own house when I've only been attending this school for a small two weeks?" 

Harry grinned. "You're Tom. My Tom. Of course you can. You think any of the kids in this entire school can cast wandless magic?" 

"Fenrir." 

"He doesn't count since he's one of my personal students," Harry dismissed with a wave. 

"'Personal' students? Are you cheating on us?" Tom mused. 

"Nonsense. Just that all the first years have dubbed me the go-to person for their questions. They rely on me to teach them the things they're too shy to ask the professors," Harry sighed. "I need to break them out of their shells...pampering them like this won't do them any good... Speaking of cheating, I caught you red handed!" Harry accused grinning widely. 

Tom rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. "What is it now?" 

"You have a new favorite you traitor." 

"Hmmm, who might that be?" 

"The Malfoy boy," Harry sneered rather convincingly, "Didn't know you liked pretty blondes." 

"Harry, I'm eleven." 

"So am I." 

"Physically." 

"That is irrelevant, now confess." 

"You are absolutely ridiculous." 

"Is that why you have a new favorite?" 

"Harry, stop this foolish conversation at once. It's unbecoming." 

"Don't talk snobbish to me." 

"I'm not even sure if that's grammatically correct." 

"Don't try to change the subject." 

"And what was the subject?" 

"Your new favorite." 

"Which is nonsense." 

"Don't deny it. I heard it." 

"Harry." 

"Maybe if I turned blonde I'll become your favorite again." 

"It might not suit you Harry." Tom was smiling ruefully, watching with amusement as Harry ranted on ridiculously, looking like he was enjoying himself immensely. 

"Hmph, well, not everyone can pull off that silly white hair. If I shave it off him, will I be your favorite again?" 

"Oh please don't." 

"I need to get rid of the competition Tom," Harry said with mock seriousness. 

"Leave my new friend alone Harry," Tom laughed, something that others could rarely do, but something Harry easily could. 

"Ha! You admit that he's your friend!" 

"Did I not already say so earlier?" Tom raised a brow. 

"You said maybe. But now you really said he's a friend." 

Tom shook his head. "What about you old man? Made any friends?" 

"Watch your cheek. And for your information, I so HAVE made a friend. His name is Arran. Arran Smith. And the other one isn't much of a friend but more of an annoying naggy little sister. I think she's just lonely without her younger brother with her. She's trying to use me as a temporary substitute," Harry said bemused before sobering up. "So, can I watch?" 

Tom could not help but succumb to the bubbles of mirth. Oh how he missed Harry. 

Chapter Text

Tom and Harry spent the rest of the day roaming the school, with Harry giving him a tour that included the secret passages and all the fun tidbits he could add to it. Harry spoke of his first years in Hogwarts, the silly things he did in his youth. It wasn’t difficult to understand how Harry loved the ancient castle. It sounded like his home. To Tom, home was back in their manor, with Harry’s ridiculous sentimentality of hanging pictures of them in random parts of the hallway. He even had the markings of his height in doorframe of Harry’s room where the man had insisted he measure them. Harry liked to keep certain wreckage that happens in their home, like the time Tom got so upset with him for his teasing that he caused a huge crack in the wall. Harry calmed him down and after they both apologized to each other, Harry fixed the damage but left a visible thin line of the crack. 

“Harry!” 

Tom paused and turned to find a Hufflepuff girl running up to them. She had brown hair and big dark eyes shining brightly at Harry. 

“Hello Amelia,” Harry greeted but whispered to Tom in parseltongue, “She’s the naggy little girl who likes to mother me.” 

Tom held back an amused smirk as the girl caught up to them, pausing to stare at Tom before straightening her back and holding out a hand. “Hi, I’m Amelia Bones,” she introduced. 

Tom took her hand and brought it to his mouth, smiling politely, “Marvolo Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Bones.” Quite predictably, Bones blushed prettily, glancing at Harry who watched them with amusement. 

“I thought—oh well, it’s nice to meet you too. Um, please call me Amelia,” she said smiling. 

“Amelia then,” Tom said agreeably. 

She nodded, not noticing the lack of invitation to use Tom’s first name and instead turning to Harry. “Can I borrow you for a minute?” 

Harry immediately looked displeased, making the girl look down and bite her lip, “I’m sorry, it’s a bit of an emergency…” 

Tom watched as Harry paused, “What happened?” 

Amelia glanced at Tom reluctantly but at Harry’s gesture for her to continue, she relented, “Um well, Arran and I had a bit of an argument…about transfiguration. And um, I didn’t mean to, and I’m not even sure how it happened because it was silly and stupid and—“ she looked like she was about to cry and Harry was quick to place a hand on her shoulder. “Ar-Arran’s really mad at me and he won’t let me reverse it. He said I’ve done enough—“ 

“What exactly did you do?” Harry asked gently. Tom wondered if he’d be allowed to go with them. 

“I gave him a tail,” Amelia admitted. 

“Oh dear,” Harry sighed shaking his head. “What have I told you about—“ 

“It was an accident! I really didn’t mean to! But he was just so infuriating that I—“ 

“Where is he now?” Tom asked. 

Amelia frowned, looking down at the floor, “He’s in the boy’s restroom near the dungeons. Its where he ran off to when I gave him a tail in front of our housemates…he wouldn’t come out even when I was apologizing.” 

“Well, he’s understandably upset. But why didn’t you go to some of the higher years to reverse it?” Tom said. 

“Because Arran would never forgive her if she did. He’s embarrassed enough as it is,” Harry answered. “Come, we need to help the poor boy.” 

“We?” Tom mused even as he started walking with them. 

“Yes ‘we’. You are not leaving my sight until curfew,” Harry promised. 

“I’m tempted to go against that,” Tom remarked, ignoring the curious look on Amelia as she listened to their conversation. 

“I dare you to try. It’ll be fun hunting you down,” Harry laughed. 

“So I guess you’re not mad at Harry anymore?” Amelia asked Tom who raised a brow at her in response. She flushed slightly. “It’s just that you two never really talked, unlike the way Harry and Greyback do.” 

Tom came to scalding halt with his thoughts even as they all rushed to where this Arran person was. Oh he should’ve known Greyback wouldn’t care about the two week ban. He’ll have to get back at him for that. “Yes, yes…it’s quite difficult to stay mad at Harry,” he told the girl instead who smiled, “I know, I think it’s his green eyes, and his very effective pout.” 

Tom found himself snorting at that, incredibly amused. He had admittedly tried Harry’s own devices against him once and the boy/man/whatever had melted immediately and gave in to his demand. Although Harry seemed to be aware of his tactics and was taking advantage of getting Tom to pout at him like that, making Tom disinclined to ever use that tactic ever again.  

“I’m just very lovable,” Harry argued dismissively as they finally arrived in the bathroom where Harry’s friend was hiding in. 

“Arran?” Harry called out, stopping in front of a cubicle Tom guessed the boy must’ve been in. Amelia looked slightly confused how Harry knew that but seemed to drop it in favor of focusing on the problem. Tom knew Harry could sense magic to a level no ordinary wizard could or even should. He had asked about it before, and the explanation he got was slightly puzzling now that he really thought about it. But Harry had been sleepy and he mumbled out his answer while trying to cuddle Tom to sleep.  

“I’ve told you the story about the Hallows right? Well, I became the Master of Death because of those three hallows, became immortal, and just received some abilities and knowledge that came with the title. And it’s not really their magic I can sense, more like their life really.” 

Back then he remembered asking Harry about that last line but the man had fallen asleep mumbling something about death and pranks. 

“Harry?” Came a miserable voice. 

“Come out Arran, so that I can undo Amelia’s spell,” Harry said patiently. 

“Okay,” Arran said in a muttered reply as he came out of the cubicle. He looked exhausted and frustrated, a brown long tail that Tom assumed was that of a monkey’s wrapped consciously around his right thigh. “I’ve been trying to reverse it,” he said miserably. 

Harry patted his head kindly, looking like an older brother despite being shorter than the other boy who now just noticed his presence. 

“Oh that’s Tom—“ 

“Marvolo.” 

“—Marvolo Gaunt. Don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone,” Harry reassured him, “And Tom, this is Arran Smith.” He gave the boy a polite nod. 

"Nice to um meet you," Arran nodded before decidedly turning back to Harry who asked him to turn around for him. “Can you fix it?” He asked miserably. 

“Yeah, lemme just…” Harry stared, and Tom wished he could see the strand of magic woven in the spell the way Harry could. 

Harry pointed his wand at the tail and flicked his wand up before drawing a circle clockwise and then the tail was gone. 

“There all better!” Harry announced, getting an armful of Arran, making Tom’s eyes narrow possessively. 

“Oh thank you Harry!” The boy exclaimed gratefully. But before he knew it, he was ripped away from his friend by a very territorial Tom who now stood between them. “Yes yes, we get it. Say you’re welcome Harry so we can go back to what we were doing before this.” 

Tom could hear the beaming smile on Harry’s face without looking at him as he did as he was told to a very confused Arran and a curious Amelia. Tom nodded to them curtly and grabbed Harry’s hand, practically dragging the smaller boy out of the blasted restroom and into the empty hallway. He continued barreling through the hall when he noticed Harry snickering behind him. They had reached a corridor where there were some students mingling about. Tom stopped and felt Harry run into his back, making a surprised sound before snickering again. 

“What?” He snapped impatiently, not liking being made fun of. 

Harry raised his brows innocently, eyes widening as well. “I beg your pardon?” 

Tom glared. “What do you find so amusing that had you snickering?” 

Harry’s lips curled even more, bright green eyes dancing with mirth. “Oh Tom don’t use that tone, you remind me dreadfully of an old dungeon bat who was pants at teaching potions.” 

Tom furrowed his brows, getting annoyed at Harry referencing his old life, something he barely knew anything about. “Well?” 

Harry shrugged, “You’re very cute when you’re jealous.” 

Tom growled. “I am not jealous. Nor am I cute.” 

Harry nodded solemnly, “Oh I agree. You’re more handsome than cute.” 

Tom sighed, rolling his eyes, something he did at least thrice when in Harry’s presence. “Let’s just get on with the tour.” 

“Sure. But why don’t we pick up Fenrir on the way? I can show you the secret passages around that area,” Harry grinned, taking his hand in his again. Tom followed obligingly, muttering something he refused to believe was a whine, “Why do we have to get the mutt?” 

“Because I know you miss him too,” Harry laughed. 

“Blasphemy,” Tom said clicking his tongue, making Harry laugh even more. A small smile flitted across his feature as he listened to the laugh. It was still the same one he had to listen to when he was smaller. Harry used to take great pleasure in Tom’s curiosity and his grouch. The man liked to catch him off guard at very random times just to enjoy his reaction. Not to say that there hadn’t been times where Tom played along, enjoying the happiness Harry radiated. 

Tom always thought Harry had a very nice laugh. 

If only he’d stop laughing in his expense. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” The portrait greeted warmly at Harry after a brief glance at Tom. “Hello little green one, are you looking for Greyback?” 

“Yup. Is he in?” Harry asked. “Oh, and this is To—Marvolo. Marvolo Gaunt. He’s a friend of both Fen and I.” 

“He is. Want me to come get him then?” The fat lady in the giant portrait asked. 

“Yes please. That would be really helpful,” Harry nodded. 

“Oh you are good,” Tom remarked in parseltongue as the portrait left. 

Harry smiled wryly. “Why thank you love. But you’ll see how being kind to other people can get you way further than intimidation and by using fear. It eliminates the possiblity of betrayal and ensures devotion and loyalty.” 

“Speaking from experience are we?” 

“Well, you love don’t you?” Harry said cheekily. 

Tom smiled despite himself. “True.” 

The portrait suddenly swung open and revealed a grinning Fenrir, making Tom frown at the incoming hug. “Tomcat!” 

Tom actually hissed. “Mutt.” 

Fenrir laughed and ruffled his hair before he could dodge those monstrous hands of his. Tom brushed it down with a glare. “You wanna come in?” Fenrir asked. “The higher years are—“ 

“Is that Harry?” 

“Oh he’s with a Slytherin firstie!” 

“What’s a slimy snake doing with our Harry?” 

“Oi! Pipe down you animals!” Fenrir yelled, and they watched as he was dragged back behind the portrait with something akin to a war cry. Gryffindors, Tom thought with distaste. 

“Maybe we should go,” Harry suggested, looking apprehensively at the portrait that was barely closed. 

“So you’re not bothered by popping into a snake’s pit but you don’t want to go in the lion’s den?” Tom asked incredulously. 

“Hey, you weren’t there when they kept using me as their personal teddy bear!” Harry huffed indignantly. 

Tom gaped, “They what!?” 

Harry realized what he’d just said. “Er…calm down Tom. They were just—“ 

“Savages,” he hissed, glaring at the portrait where the fat lady was watching them a little confused until the portrait swung open and Fenrir jumped out panting. “We need to go. They are very insistent on getting their hands on Harry.” 

“Over my dead body,” Tom hissed, grabbing Harry’s hand and quickly marching off and down the staircase. Fenrir followed after them, yelling back insults to some of the laughing lions peering from the portrait. “Come on Greyback! Lend us your cute little firstie!” A female voice rang laughingly. 

“Fuck off you weirdos!” Fenrir sang. 

“Fen, language,” Harry chided. 

“Sorry Harbear.” 

“Harbear?” Tom spat in disgust. 

They were well away from the Gryffindor dormitories and he already knew they had broken a good number of unspoken rules in the school. Like Harry had said, they keep the houses separate for a reason. Rivalries that have stemmed centuries back kept students more loyal to their own houses than towards friendships they formed outside.

“I think it’s cute, Harbear that is,” Harry shrugged when they finally slowed.

Fenrir nodded. “Not much room for nicknames when your name’s Harry. Anyway, I’m assuming the ban is over? Seeing as how Tomcat’s here with us now.”

Tom sneered, “Stop with that infernal nickname.”

“Since when did I ever listen to you?” Fenrir grinned. “Where are we heading?”

“The Room of Requirement,” Harry hummed. “I need to give you your potions cub. How are your classes by the way?”

“Room of Requirement?” Fenrir puzzled, “I’m doing fine. They’re a lot less fascinating than your lessons but it’s not too bad. My housemates are fun to watch. They’re quite loud.”

“Savages,” Tom sighed.

Fenrir grinned and moved so quick that Tom didn’t have time to react before his cheek was licked. He must have looked outraged because the wolf guffawed but also hid behind Harry who was trying not to laugh. He spelled the mess away and touched Tom’s cheek, reducing the amount of indignant rage that had boiled inside him because of Fenrir’s childishness.

“I can’t believe you licked me,” Tom grunted instead, leaning into Harry’s touch shamelessly.

“I’m a savage remember?” Fenrir grinned, looking very ironic as he remained behind Harry who was a head shorter. But then the boy mouthed something at him, something Harry couldn’t see.

“I bet you’d have a different reaction if Harry licked you…”

Tom went bright red and sent a wandless stinging hex straight at the older boy’s forehead. The sound of his surprised and pained yelp was satisfying.

“Enough,” Harry sighed, “We need to go. I’ve been meaning to teach you two legilimency and occlumency for a week now! And I want to know how much progress you’ve made with the map because I was thinking of having both of you on the work.”

“What? Harry, no, I refuse to—“

“Tom, if you show me your progress then I’ll judge if you’ll need Fen’s help or not,” Harry interrupted with a dismissive wave. “And this’ll be a good challenge for Fenrir as well. Now, list down the spells you’ve thought of using while we climb these blasted stairs.”

Tom grudgingly muttered them at first before delving into a detailed account of where his research had gone so far. “The mapping part is still tentative. I thought of using the same type of spells used on a self-writing quill where the thoughts are linked with the quill, writing down on paper without the person having to lift a finger. I’ll have to tweak it to make it draw out the space I see. So I can map the whole thing out while I walk along the stones of the castle. I’ve already thought of some features I want to include, like the recognition of the students in the castle, but I’m still not sure how to do that too. I wondered if I can take a bit of the castle magic in order to place the student/staff recognition in it as well but I haven’t quite figured out how to do that either.” He ended it with a frown, not liking the speed of his progress. He needed more time.

But Harry smiled, touching his lip and sending pleasant…things through his body. “That’s brilliant Tom. I gave you two weeks and you’re already on the right path. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve only just started Hogwarts and I can already see you finishing this in no time. I want you to relax. I’m extending the deadline. It was silly of you to believe a month or two would be enough for this. Especially for an eleven year old. Now, to point you in the right direction, Fenrir, what do you think?” Harry prompted.

The wolf was looking thoughtfully at him. They may not always get along or Tom may hate his guts sometimes but he had never underestimated the boy’s intelligence. He was no genius but he had a certain way of thinking that sought out holes in other people’s logic.

“What about adding runes into the mix? I’ve only just started learning them myself, and they’re pretty damn useful,” Fenrir said.

Runes! How could he forget? Tom wanted to hit himself.

“But damn Tom, you’ve thought of all that in two weeks? How in the world do you even have the time? And the thing with Hogwarts is brilliant. Do you think if we study the school wards we can find something to add into the project? I mean, the wards recognize all its students, even the ones from way before, because magic always remembers, right Harry?”

Harry beamed at them, nodding and making a motion for them to continue.

“Yes, that’s pretty much the entire reason I suggested taking a bit of Hogwarts so that we can use it for the map to recognize the people. But I didn’t think much of the wards since they probably adjust them every time the students graduate or every time they get a new staff member.” Tom found himself debating with the wolf over weaving spells and mixing runes and charms and wards. And he realized he did miss the mutt. They had these kinds of conversations every day back home. Fenrir always seemed to stop being annoying and instead turned into someone who made him think differently about things. Harry always had that effect on him but there was this fact that Harry was immortal and he already knew a lot. Debating with him was almost always more enlightening for Tom than the other way around, and he just felt full. He’d always be contemplating on things Harry says and does but Harry never contemplated on magical theories like him, mind wandering over to his otherworldly problems about his time travel, his immortality and/or his plans for the future. Fenrir was different. He wasn’t as smart as Tom in terms of book knowledge, but he was clever.

They continued discussing their ideas while Harry hummed contentedly until they finally got introduced to the Room of Requirement.

Tom returned to the dungeons happily exhausted. He had so many ideas he wanted to try out. And Harry had his head on his lap the entire time while he listened to the two drone on, occasionally casting a miniature version of his patronus that distractingly slithered around in the air.

The common room was occupied by some of the higher years, spotting none of the first years since it was already just an hour before curfew. He had eaten in the room with Harry and Fenrir, the room being their cosy living room back home.

When he reached his room, his roommates were too obvious with the sudden silence. He raised a brow at them, eyes straying to his blonde friend who looked slightly nervous to the rest of the calculating and vindictive gazes.

“Lestrange told Rowle,” Abraxas told him softly. “He issued a command. We are not to acknowledge your existence until you apologize for letting a trespasser inside. That, and you’ll be receiving your punishment sometime this coming week. And whether the silence will continue after that is dependent on how well you…repent.”

Tom pursed his lips before nodding. “I see.” The others didn’t say a word and just climbed into their beds, shutting their curtains. He glanced at the blonde who was still looking at him worriedly. “Were you told to tell me this?” he asked.

Abraxas gave a slight shake of his head.

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and decided that he’ll have to rearrange the Slytherin ladder a little sooner than planned.

“Goodnight Abraxas,” Tom said softly earning a wry smile from the blonde.

Chapter Text

It's been an entire week since Tom was told of his punishment. And since then he has gone through his days in absolute silence. He didn't say a word to his roommates, and only really acknowledged Abraxas who tried to make it a point to meet his eyes and nod in greeting. He was discreet enough not to be caught by anyone. And although Tom was a bit disappointed that the blonde was going along with this, he knew the boy was actually being smart. Malfoy didn't want to get in trouble with the higher years and get dragged down into the punishment with him. Especially since it was pretty much because of Harry that he was in this situation. It was honestly amusing to watch his roommates skirt around him within Slytherin territory and yet once outside, they walked with him to keep up appearances. House unity was quite strong in Slytherin, despite all the dirty descriptions made about them. Tom was pretty sure that were he ever hexed by someone from another house, they'd defend him, not because of who he was but merely because he was part of their house. It was very admirable, Tom mused. He'd like to keep it that way once he took over. 

Speaking of taking over... 

He was bidding his time, wondering when Rowle would get tired of the cold shoulder and confront him. No doubt it would be some time next week. Although Tom wasn't so sure since he didn't know Rowle that well. His cronies were keeping Tom checked wherever he went, and they made it a point to leave him out when inside their dorms. They've been hexing him when his back was turned, placing traps in his bed, tampering with his stuff. He had been impressed enough with the fact that he didn't ever catch the culprit. Hexes came at him in the common room, and the caster often liked to blend in with the others, everyone acting like they didn't see him being hexed. And he knew that none of his roommates placed the traps. But he did know they let the culprits in. Whether this was done willingly or not, Tom wasn't sure. He'll deal with them some other time. Abraxas didn't know enough about him to risk becoming fresh meat. So his behavior, although disappointing, was understandable. 

Although Harry disagreed. 

He insisted on being cross with the blonde for abandoning him, for not sticking by his side. But Harry tends to think like a lion and a puff despite his snake-like behavior. Fenrir didn't really care about what was happening and just told him to say the word and he'll beat them bloody. Even though Tom would never offer the same kind of help, the moment the mutt had a problem with someone, he'll just get rid of them in the shadows. 

But their reassuring threats paled to the look Harry gave them if he found out anyone hurt them. And the boy didn't even say anything. 

He still insisted on watching when the inevitable reconstruction of the Slytherin hierarchy took place. Harry even made him promise. 

His interaction with the two didn't go unnoticed by his house, something Tom anticipated. He greatly enjoyed the nasty looks he got from his housemates while he smiled blandly at them. The ones that did most of the bullying and checking up were the second and third years. The fourth years and above seldom paid attention to the lower years. Tom pursed his lips wondering if he should change that. He'd 

like to have the most magically talented as high rankers regardless of age. Hmm...he wondered if it would be wise to change the entire hierarchy on the spot or if he should let them keep the current one and let them keep their little power for now and let them appreciate the existing system. The latter can keep them from going against him outright, since he'll only be replacing the head instead of rearranging them and taking away their positions. 

And then came the day it happened. 

He had entered the common room with his roommates when he sensed the anticipation in the air. Rowle sat on his favorite seat, the seat of the Slytherin King. His eyes met Tom's and they looked at him with malicious excitement carefully masked underneath a neutral expression. Tom considered alerting Harry, knowing the other boy would no doubt be very cross with him for not keeping his promise to let him watch. He touched the earring and whispered their little password in parseltongue as Rowle remained in his seat and the rest of the Slytherins present either gathered or went back into their respective rooms. A considerable number of them decided to stay, some just doing some of their essays, unaffected by what was going on but seemed to want to stay as a witness. He caught some of the other first years that looked at him nervously, fearing whatever punishment he was going to get. Black and Avery had that look, while Rosier maintained a blank expression. Abraxas had looked torn but managed to mask his expression like Rosier. Mulciber and Nott were behind him so Tom didn't know how they were reacting to all this. But he suspected that those two wouldn't be wearing the same gleeful smirks that were present on the faces of both Lestrange and Dolohov. 

"Hello Gaunt. I'm sure you know what brought this gathering forth," Rowle drawled, gazing at his wand absently, a ghost of that malicious smile on his face. 

Tom said nothing. 

"Since you come from such a distasteful family despite being purebloods, I'm sure you aren't as...aware of the power plays that exist in society. We may be in Hogwarts, but this is nothing but a taste of the reality out there. Although I must say I'm not looking forward to playing games with ignorant imbeciles of filth. But, oh well," Rowle shrugged. 

Tom carefully kept his face blank, his posture relaxed despite being at the center of a hostile circle. He wondered if Harry was already here and where he could be watching all this from. 

“Now, why don’t you tell me, why do you think you’re being punished little first year?” 

Tom met his eyes and said nothing again. 

Rowle narrowed his eyes and stood up. “I asked you a question Gaunt.” 

Tom gave him a look of indifference. 

Rowle’s eyes twitched in annoyance. “I see you’re having some trouble comprehending the question, insolent brat. Maybe this will help—“ 

He sent a nonverbal curse at Tom, and Tom deflected the spell with a wandless flick of his wrist, drawing out gasps from those too surprised to mask their reaction. Tom couldn’t blame them though. Deflection is a pretty advanced practice in dueling. Certainly not something you’d easily be able to do at eleven, let alone wandlessly. 

“Have your little tricks, do you?” Rowle said dangerously angry. 

Tom didn’t react. 

“Jugson, Travers,” Rowle said. The two fifth years who Tom knew were being trained by Rowle snapped into action. They stepped forward and raised their wands in a flash, two different spells leaving their wands. Tom very much liked the fact that they were using nonverbal spells. 

But sadly, this was nothing compared to Harry’s ruthless spell casting. 

Tom raised a shield and sent the spells right back at them, still not drawing his wand. Their screams filled the common room and Rowle angrily threw a curse at him, only for Tom to simply sidestep it along with the impressive colorful curses that was being rapidly cast as he neared Tom. He could see why Rowle was the current King. 

“Keep him in place.” 

The parseltongue command caused every single snake in the common room to slither quickly towards Rowle who panicked and started shooting curses at the floor where every snake drawn, painted, sculpted into every surface of their common room was now gathering at his feet and crawling up his leg in thick hissing magical creatures of their house. They were soon slithering all over his body, holding him still. 

Rowle cried in outrage and fear as the snakes bit him and forced him to drop his wand.  

Anyone who tried to come to his aid had been subdued in a similar fashion. 

“Very good my little pets,” Tom purred at the snakes that hissed approvingly at the praise. 

He could feel the fear palpitating in the air as he leisurely surveyed his fellow Slytherins. His ‘friends’ were very shocked by this surprising turn of events. And he couldn’t help but smirk maliciously at the scared pale faces of Dolohov and Lestrange. 

“I do apologize for letting Harry Peverell enter without notifying you, Rowle,” Tom mused, “I wouldn’t want anyone doing the same thing without my permission either.” He stepped closer and summoned the older boy’s wand. 

“Wh-who are you? How—“ Rowle sputtered, looking incredibly disturbed and shocked at the turn of events. 

“My name, is Thomas Marvolo Gaunt. The rightful heir of Slytherin. As you can see from the obvious, I’m a parselmouth. And as for the treatment you've subjected me to, might I say that it has been quite…entertaining so far. Although I applaud your ruling, I must admit that your punishment is rather disappointing. I’m sure you were trying to get me all riled up with anxious and fearful aniticipation for when I’ll be truly punished. A blow to to one’s mentally were I a normal first year. Sadly, I am anything but.” 

“Now, Marcus Rowle, would you prefer to step down honorably and hand over the crown, or should I make you cry right here in front of everyone and have you lose whatever ounce of respect they may have had for you? Either way, I’m going to be in charge. Being at the bottom of the food chain to keep appearances up is getting too dull for me,” Tom drawled, placing Rowle’s wand back in his tense grip held still by the snakes binding him. 

No one spoke, too afraid to draw Tom’s attention. 

He waited patiently for Rowle to get over his pride and smiled when Rowle’s eyes dimmed with frustrated shame at his defeat. There was no other way around it. The boy could perform wandless magic and was a bloody parselmouth for crying out loud! And he never even drew his wand! Merlin help him if he wasn’t stupid to think he could take the child whose eyes were actually hoping for a challenger. 

“And there we have it,” Tom said pleasantly, “As of this moment, you are all under my rule. I don’t have many rules, in fact there are only three that I'd you all to remember.” He watched as the tense silence stretched on, every single student too shocked to utter a word. “Aside from the original rules of house unity and keeping the secrets of our house to ourselves, I expect every single one of you to perform well in this school. We are Slytherins. Cunning and ambitious. So act like it. Secondly, do not speak of blood supremacy. Because blood is nothing to power.” At this he released Rowle and temporarily unlocked his magic from the earring, drawing out gasps and causing a few students’ knees to buckle at the overwhelming amount of magic. Harry had told him, that with the way he brought him up practicing magic since he was five, his magical core was three times bigger than any normal magical child and will only continue to grow at a faster pace than normal. According to him, children were not taught magic until they went to Hogwarts, only a few lessons on magical theory and some household spells were learned and it was done at the age of nine and ten. 

“Your blood status means nothing to me. I don’t care whether you’re a member of the purest family. I am a half-blood, and I’d very much enjoy seeing all of you try and fight me,” Tom smiled, sending chills through their spines. “If any one of you has a problem with that belief then step forward now and see if your blood will save you from me.” 

No one moved. 

“Very well. Now, for the last rule. Harreth Peverell is mine. Speak against him or even wish him ill will and I’ll make sure you’ll be begging for death compared to what I’ll do to you.” 

The rule surprised them, earning some looks of disbelief. Voices demanded for an explanation but Tom wasn’t given the opportunity due to the fact that Harry himself appeared out of nowhere beside Tom who gave an annoyed sigh. “You’re so sweet Tom,” Harry grinned happily, obviously touched by the last rule. 

“You are not doing me good by ridiculing me in front of everyone when I just took over Harry,” he deadpanned. 

Some of the Slytherins had now started up a storm of questions at Harry’s sudden appearance. The main one being the question of how Harry managed to once again appear out of the blue. 

Harry smiled at them and simpley shrugged, “I’m a Peverell. It’s just something I can do.” 

“So Gaunt really did let you enter!” Dolohov said before realizing how stupid that was. Silence fell upon them as they all watched the youngest Slytherin to ever take the title of King regard the boy venomously. But to their surprise, it wasn’t he who moved. 

They all watched Peverell as his approachable demeanor vanished and the air turned deathly cold. It was as if a dementor had entered their common room. They’ve never felt anything like it. 

Tom was, of course, unaffected by this. 

“No one let me in Dolohov,” Harry said, “I can go anywhere I want. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin…It means nothing to me. Nothing can keep me out. There are no wards strong enough to keep me out. Do you want me to prove it to you? Tell me where you live and I’ll nick something from your room, maybe say hello to your parents. No? I suppose I could just go to the headmaster’s office right now and take a little peek at your address then. It’s no trouble. Oh no no no, don’t cry. I’m merely proving a point here. It’s not Tom’s fault that the laws of magic do not apply to me. Do you understand?” 

To say it was frightening for everyone was the understatement of the century. No one would have blamed Dolohov if he wet himself right there in front of them all. 

The boy nodded frantically, crying quietly. He was shaking like a leaf, and so was Lestrange. All the students who had stood near them were now far far away, as if Harry’s aura would have killed them. 

“Harry, enough. Stop scaring my friends,” Tom mused, shaking his head. 

Almost immediately, the coldness disappeared and Harry’s face brightened as he turned back to him and walked over to his side. The term ‘friends’ seemed to have caused the two frightened boys to look at Tom in hopeful surprise. It's not like it was true. Yet. So far the only one Tom considered as his friend was Abraxas who looked relieved at the turn of events instead of shocked and curious. Such an odd one he was. The other first years were alright. But with that statement alone, Dolohov and Lestrange would either suck up to him or try to stab him in the back. He wasn't all too worried either way. Not with what Harry had just made them experience. 

"Hey, I noticed that you didn't include Fenrir," Harry said with a raised brow. 

Tom waved a hand dismissively. "The mutt can fend for himself." 

Harry rolled his eyes. 

Tom turned back to their audience, the snakes dispersing back to their original placements, and said, "I think I've made my terms clear yes? Now, just remember that nothing leaves this common room. Try to tell anyone anything, whether it be by word or owl and I'll know. Good day." With that, he turned around and left them, with Harry following happily behind him. 

"I think you make a very handsome king Tom," Harry teased, practically bouncing in his steps. 

"What does that make you then, my queen?" Tom said with another fond eye roll. Harry smacked him. "I'm not a bloody girl." 

"Oh, I am perfectly aware," Tom muttered under his breath. 

"What was that?" Harry asked to which Tom just shook his head. "Can we go to the Room now? Dealing with my house after an all-nighter got me a little knackered." 

Harry's eyes widened. "You didn't sleep!? What for?" 

"Runes." 

"I thought you were leaving that to Fen!" 

"Well I'd like to understand them as well," Tom grumped. 

It was now Harry's turn to shake his head. "Unbelievable. Come, you'll need more than a nap. Lemme just get Fen first so I could watch him watch the memory in the pensieve. He'd be very impressed." 

Chapter Text

Tom’s new reign stayed within the walls of their dorm. Everything that had occurred during the takeover was not mentioned to anyone, and was discussed with utmost caution by all the Slytherins. They had wondered what would change for them. How Tom would lord over them. But so far, the boy did absolutely nothing. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and the snakes felt as if nothing had happened. But none of them were stupid enough to think they could ignore the new rules or forget that he was now their leader.

It was easy enough to recognize the boy as someone formidable. He had easily risen to the top of the school, getting the highest scores in their entire year with the brightest performance in both written and practical exams and activities. All the professors loved him and even Dumbledore was a little taken with him. It seems that the old man wasn’t so suspicious of him since Tom’s blatant display of friendship with Harry Peverell and Fenrir Greyback was obviously genuine. Although the deputy headmaster still held a certain dislike for the house of snakes, it wasn’t as noticeable as it could have been had Harry Peverell not existed.

Fenrir thought it wasn’t all that impressive, the way Tom had taken over, that is. He thought Tom would do something flashy like summon the basilisk Harry told them about or turn into a giant snake or maybe do some big spell that would make every Slytherin bow down. Harry just laughed at this and Tom just sighed, saying how what Fenrir had just said drew the clear line between lions and snakes.

It’s already nearing Hallow’s Eve and Fenrir noticed that Harry was getting more and more detached than usual. He was still surrounded by the same lot of Badgers that now involved that third year Mcmillan and that muggleborn named Carfers. Harry told them that she was Mcmillan’s girlfriend. Fenrir remembered her to be a feisty thing in DADA, while he knew Mcmillan was one of those charms nerds.

“Fenrir, you’re going to be late for practice,” Potter said as he nudged Fenrir out of his thoughts.

He merely grunted after casting one last worried glance over at little Harry, noticing how he was just picking at his food. His gaze moved over to Tom who was looking at Harry curiously as well. Their eyes met, as if Tom could feel him, which he probably could, and Fenrir gestured his head over at the green-eyed boy. Tom gave a very small nod and returned to his meal, answering something his blonde friend had asked. Malfoy, from what Fenrir could tell, was surprisingly decent. Well, most of Tom’s little followers in his year were, while all the higher years were just down-right nasty to the lions, although funny enough it was hardly ever them who start the fights.

Fenrir caught up to Potter, his quidditch robes drawing some attention as they headed over to the field for practice. He wasn’t even supposed to try out. But that damn Potter had won a bet over him which had forced him to try out seriously and call the Potter scum by his first name (only out loud though). He wasn’t all bad, just very annoying (but Fenrir always looked for him whenever the git wasn’t around, having actually gotten used to the moron’s presence).

He got the role of a beater. And when Harry found out, he had immediately gifted him with his own broom and promised to cheer for him in every match except when against the badgers, but he promised to do it secretly. Tom didn’t really care, but he did warn Fen not to try and hit the bludger at him by ‘accident.’

Hehe.

“Oi Greyback, get your ass in the air!” Dunfield, their captain, bellowed.

Fenrir just yawned and mounted his broom. Everyone in his house was strangely used to his attitude. Potter was already in the air starting off with the routine, Fenrir following closely. It irked him how the people in his house could laugh off his temper and threats. It was like they had no sense of self-preservation. One time, Potter had dared to try and prank him. It didn’t work of course, but the idiot had the gall to grin at him later on and laugh it all off. Fenrir was about to punch him in the gut. And he did.

Yet Potter still followed him around like some eager little puppy.

During the nights where he had to transform, both Harry and Tom would meet him in the forbidden forest for a run, and in Tom’s case, a hunt for potions ingredients since he still couldn’t become an animagus.

Max suddenly zoomed past him, almost knocking Fenrir off his broom. Her laughter rang in his ears and he growled without much heat. Noralyn Max was an excellent chaser, but she was a damn annoying girl. In the field she was one of them. A skilled player, a teammate. But off it she batted her eyelashes at him and used some scary tactics to ensnare him into going out with her.

As if.

“And why not?” Harry asked as they dueled in the Room of Requirement. Fenrir conjured another shield wandlessly whilst rapidly firing spell after spell in the hopes of getting Harry to actually draw his wand.

“What do you mean why not?” Fenrir grunted as he dodged a very dark hex from hitting him in the face, rolling sideways and deflecting another spell, his breathing getting heavier while Harry hasn’t even broken a single sweat yet. Harry had explained to him before that when he first arrived, he had trouble with his magic. He was constantly out of breath from casting complex and heavy spells which had never should be able to tire him out before. It turns out, time travel, to a normal wizard, would have caused a two to three month coma. He was up and about like a merry little idiot because he was ridiculously powerful.

“She’s nasty, rude, a huge flirt, poor at Arithmacy—“ Fenrir started listing off.

“Also very beautiful, powerful, and does well in all her classes apart from Arithmancy. Plus she’s not a flirt. If you bothered to notice, she only does it to you. She obviously genuinely fancies you,” Harry laughed.

“I told you he hadn’t noticed,” Tom commented, “Fenrir’s as blind as a bat when it comes to things like this.”

“What are you two on about!?” Fenrir demanded, narrowly missing Harry’s tripping jinx. The bastard still used petty childish spells more than serious ruthless ones. “She’s not beaut—she doesn’t fancy me!”

“Pay up Harry,” Tom said triumphantly.

“This is not fair! I want a redo!”

“I bet on those very words to leave his mouth,” Tom reminded him loftily.

Harry pouted even as he deflected Fenrir’s flustered spells.

“Fine, fine.”

“You made a bet over this?” Fenrir growled in disbelief.

“Yup. Tom won, obviously,” Harry sighed as he handed Tom five galleons.

“I can’t believe you two! I DO NOT FANCY MAX!”

Harry groaned loudly while Tom smirked. “Shut up Fenrir. You’re making me lose more money!”

“Wha—?”

“I put in a doubler for the bet, and you just said the magic words to reward me with five more galleons,” Tom said pleasantly, almost singing the words.

“You’re such a greedy bastard,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“As if these galleons are even close to putting a dent to your fortune,” Tom scoffed. “Oh poor Harry Peverell, his last ten galleons wasted on a futile bet!”

Harry lunged at Tom with a battle cry and the two ended up rolling around in the magically expanded sofa. Tom was laughing as he wrestled with Harry. Fenrir was torn between demanding answers with the whole Max fiasco or just joining in. It was so rare for Tom to let go of himself and be a child sometimes.

But before he could do anything, Fenrir watched as Tom managed to pin a squirming Harry underneath him, breathing heavily and grinning victoriously…until his whole face, which was already slightly flushed from the wrestling he’d participated in, burned a bright vicious red as he stared down at Harry’s laughing face, eyes closed in mirth, panting as well.

He quickly got off him, an odd look on his flustered face, and it wasn’t very hard to connect the dots. Fenrir remembered how the boy had described the dreams he had of Harry…

“Pervert,” Fenrir whispered in his ear, startling the blushing boy out of whatever he was thinking about. He glared at Fenrir warningly, but the wolf merely shrugged. Harry sat up, his robes in adorable disarray. “Just so you know, I let you win that time,” Harry huffed.

Fenrir laughed and sat next to him, ruffling his wild hair that had loosened from the ponytail he had it in. Harry grabbed his hand as well as the other one, placing them both on his cheeks with a happy sigh. “Waaaaarm,” Harry hummed. It’s been quite chilly recently and Harry always complains about it every single time they met up. He said he missed those natural sunny days where his skin felt nice and warm and the breeze was a gentle comfort instead of a gust of icy daggers brought about to torture him and his sensitive skin.

Fenrir chuckled, “Well, thank the wolf in me.”

Harry crooned, pressing the hands more so, “Thank you Grey.”

Fenrir rolled his eyes at the nickname for his wolf. He was about to tell the immortal to stop giving his wolf a separate name since it was still him when he could feel the thick waves of jealousy clouding the atmosphere. He didn’t have to look to know how Tom was seething where he was. “You know Harry, Tom’s hands are equally as warm. Actually, the rest of his body is actually very warm. You’ll get more heat from him now that you’re draining me of mine.”

Harry hummed again, nodding this time before adding, “Mmmm but your hands are bigger.”

Fenrir glanced at Tom to see him trying to discreetly examine his own hands, glaring venomously at Fenrir when he caught him looking, causing the wolf to snatch his hands back with a laugh. Harry made a displeased sound and trotted over to Tom who masked his face into a bored expression. Harry flung his arm around him gracelessly, burying his face into the crook of Tom’s neck.

“Tom, Fenrir sent me away. He sent me away because he likes Noralyn and wants to stay faithful!” Harry sniffed dramatically.

Tom didn’t even bat an eye. He held Harry closer, running a hand down Harry’s back as if to soothe him, “I saw, Harry. I saw. To think he’d value some girl over you. How despicable. Can’t say I’m not surprised though. Worry not Harry, I’ll never do such a thing to you my dear Harry.“

"You better not. But it still saddens me how some Noralyn Max is more important to him," Harry said sadly. "After all I did for him, he so easily just tossed me aside for some pretty bird!"

"Oh Harry, you're worlds prettier than her, don't fret."

"You think so?" Harry said fluttering his lashes at Tom who looked like it was actually affecting him.

"Definitely."

"Can't say Fenrir agrees with you though," Harry sighed. "I wonder if he's had any wet dreams about—"

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!!!” Fenrir roared and stormed out of the room with a big angry flustered slam of the door.

He was stomping all the way to the Gryffindor tower, head full of angry disbelief that those two keep trying to tell him he fancied some annoying bird who would not stop pestering him and looking irritating and always trying to get his attention and—gaaaaaah!

It was so frustrating. Why those two who he considered to be the smartest people he knew were spouting out lies and stupid declarations! As if he could fancy that flat-chested hag!

“Greyback!”

He snarled in the direction of the voice, not in the mood to—

Max was grinning at him, dark hair loosely tied with a golden ribbon resting on her shoulder. Her brown eyes were bright and happy to see him, lips forming that weird smile with the left side curled slightly higher than the other. “What do you think of my ribbon? Letty gave it to me and Rhia did my hair! It suits me doesn’t it? Admit it!” she said gleefully, the same usual antics she got up to that he rolled his eyes over and called her names for. Normally, he’d be insulting her by now, or laughing at her, then they’ll have a satisfying verbal spat that pisses everyone off as much as it amused them.

But not today.

Fenrir was going to hex Harry and Tom the next time he saw them.

“Yeah. It suits you,” he said in a fake sweet voice that sounded incredibly strained.

“Of course it—Greyback? Did you just say it suits me?” she said her tan skin turning into a dark red.

“Well it does. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to plot the murder of my two best friends,” he said gruffly, ignoring the insistent voice in his head that whole heartedly agreed with just how much the ribbon and the stupid bloody do suited her. Fenrir punched the imaginary owner of the annoying voice and told it to bugger off as he headed briskly for the boy’s rooms.

“Wha—are you okay? Is something wrong? You’re acting odd Greyback,” she said hesitantly.

He ignored her sweet concern and determinedly set out to drown in denial.

Fucking Harry. Fucking Tom.

“Think we went too far?” Harry asked as he stared at the door unworriedly.

“Maybe…” Tom mused. He wondered if the wolf would try to get back at them for the teasing. He seemed to react quite strongly to the mention of Ms. Max. It was very very amusing. Almost the entire school was aware of the girl’s infatuation with Fenrir. She didn’t exactly hide it, and in fact made it pretty clear. She shamelessly flirted with him and picked fights with him, looking like she was having a grand time in every encounter she had with him. Fenrir of course had been oblivious even though it started during the third week of September. Their loud fights in the Great Hall, some of their classes and even in hallways made it easy for everyone in the school to know.

“Scad made a bet with me about it,” Harry mused.

Tom arched a brow, “Scad? The lazy one?”

Harry laughed, “Yeah. She’s very amusing. Huge slacker but incredibly bright. Very rebellious too. You know what she said to me? ‘I bet you 100 galleons they’re going to get together in fourth year.’ I’ve never spoken to her before but she just said that out of nowhere.”

“A hundred? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Tom frowned disapprovingly.

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t really take the bet. And she simply clucked her tongue at me and asked if she could borrow my dicta-quill.”

“Seems like an odd fellow,” Tom said. “And is her name really Scad? Or did you just name her?”

“Celestia Scamardo. From a German pure-blood family. She grew up all proper but has decided to ‘answer to her true calling’ as she said it. Which is to slack off after eleven years of hard work,” Harry grinned.

“And she’s okay with the nickname you gave her?” Tom said already guessing Harry had given the name. No proper family would creatively call their daughter Scad. He decided not to question the rest of the statement.

“She asked me what it means after a week of hearing me call her that. When I said it’s a shortened form of her last name, and that it means some fish in the tropical and subtropical shores. She seemed to be fine with it.”

“I don’t really see her joining your merry band of badgers though,” Tom wondered, “How come?”

“Amelia tends to reprimand her and get into pretty nasty arguments that often end up one-sided since Scad can’t be bothered to retaliate after around five insults. Arran’s pretty awkward with her, and Jasper and Polly don’t know how to talk to her either. She doesn’t like going to the Great Hall, says it’s too far to ‘acquire sustenance’ when we’re right by the kitchens. The rare times she does go, she sits at the very end, which is closest to the door,” Harry explained with a shake of his head.

“You seem fond of her,” Tom observed.

“Well she is quite the character. Way more entertaining than little Amelia and shy little Arran. Her apathy and determination to live up to her last name which is a German derivation of the word lazy is very entertaining,” Harry said happily.

“Careful Harry,” Tom muttered.

Harry pulled at his cheek. “Oh don’t be like that. If anyone should be jealous here, it should be me. Blondie is way too close to you. He actually makes you smile!” he accused. “And don’t get me started on Rosier! He gives you a lot of half hugs!”

“Because he’s an idiot that way. He knows it annoys me and does it anyway. And Abraxas technically is my first friend here. Of course we’d be close. And his company is tolerable compared to the rest of those in my year,” Tom said.

“The snakes are behaving, I’ve noticed.”

“Mhmm. I’m quite excited to see who will try to test me.”

“I knew there was a reason why you weren’t doing anything.”

“It’s just so amusing to see them squirm while others start to get too comfortable and dismiss me. I think most of them are quite alright with the set up, and are very mindful of the snakes in our dorms. I haven’t caught anyone saying or doing anything worth punishing for so far. Although I’m quite sure it won’t last ‘til Yule. Are you going to insist on watching again?”

“Hmmm…probably not. I’ll be a little busy near Yule. As I’ll be arranging for certain adoptions for us. That and I have a Dark Lord to discipline,” Harry said thoughtfully, unaware of Tom’s look of surprise and uncharacteristic sputtering. “Oh! And I have to go shopping for presents too!”

“What!?”

“Oh, did I not mention any of this to you?”

Chapter Text

Tom was in a bit of a mood. He sat in the middle of the Slytherin table surrounded by the sugary treats of the Halloween feast, his fellow first years helping themselves to as much of them as they could put on their plates. They weren’t shoveling things down like some of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were, but they could still compete in terms of the amount they took.

Tom didn’t really have much of a sweet tooth. Unlike his friend Abraxas who was humming in delight as he tried almost everything on the table with manners bordering what was acceptable in proper etiquette. Sweets were nice but Tom didn’t indulge himself in them very much. It was just a nice treat some times. Fenrir and Harry were pigs for sugar though, and Tom was often subjected to their faces smudged with chocolate, caramel, and whatever other liquid sugar had been coating the things they had been shoveling into their mouths.

Tom bit back a sigh as he glanced at the Hufflepuff table. He had been presented with the abrupt adoption papers just yesterday. After getting over the indignant shock of being carted off to some unknown couple, Tom finally settled down enough to listen. Apparently, Harry didn’t want the two of them having to spend the rest of their summers having to imperius the nasty muggles into thinking they lived there. So Harry approached a nice wizarding family to take them in. Which, of course, will only be true on paper. As far as they know, they were being paid to sign for Harry and Tom by some wealthy anonymous benefactor. As long as they played their part, everything should go smoothly.

Fenrir on the other hand was free to continue to live with his so called uncle, who was actually Morfin Gaunt playing his imperiused part. Afterwards, they could all go back to the manor, their real home.

So Tom wasn’t at all miffed over the fake adoption since it was pretty useful. But he as upset over the whole dark lord thing. You’d think now that he was eleven, Harry would actually tell him these things without needing to ask. Harry had way too many secrets and too few people he could trust. That understandable, he thought, given his time traveling circumstances, but he went all the way here for him. For Tom. Why couldn’t he lean on him a little more? Was eleven still too young?

When he realized Harry wasn’t in his usual spot, and was actually not there at all, his eyes curiously swept the entire area to look for him, only to find him at the very end of the Gryffindor table beside a very… pretty brunette who looked bored out of her mind.

Tom assumed she was the one Harry liked to call Scad. She seemed to have enchanted her utensils to feed herself. She even had this floating backrest where she comfortably leaned against. Harry looked very content to just sit next to her while saying nothing at all. He still seemed quite subdued as he had been for the past few days, but it was evidently not as bad as before. He saw Fenrir stand in an attempt to walk over to them, but then he abruptly sat down with an annoyed look on his face and an amused glare directed towards the green-eyed boy. Harry must’ve not allowed him to come over. Some of the lions near the two were casting them curious looks, but otherwise thought them harmless enough, as anyone would, what with their house. Tom assumed that his snakes would be the exception to such an assumption. Not with how they seem to fear Harry almost as much as they did to him. He didn’t notice it at first, but then every single time Harry approached him, all of his friends stiffened while Dolohov and Lestrange trembled. The higher years avoided him like the plague or preferred to warily ignore his existence. It was pretty amusing to watch.

“Marvolo?”

Tom startled out of his thoughts and focused back on Abraxas’ bemused expression. “Is the invitation too uninteresting to warrant your attention?” he drawled.

Tom shook his head with a rueful smile. “Apologies. What invitation?”

Abraxas rolled his eyes and took a sip of water to drown out the sweetness. “I said I’m inviting you to the Yule Ball my family’s hosting in the manor, as we do every year.”

“Who else will be attending?”

“Most of the high families of the pureblood society as well as a few well known individuals in various fields of magic and some ministry officials. They’re boring company, but the gossip is quite entertaining until they start gushing over useless things. I was hoping you’d keep me company so I don’t have to suffer alone. You don’t know how certain chatter can suck out a person’s intelligence when you’re subjected to it alone.”

“Alright alright,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll go.” He wondered briefly if he should’ve asked if he can bring Harry and Fenrir along. But then he didn’t feel like he should. If Abraxas could have extended the invitation he would have. He’ll have to ask Harry about it later.

He paused. Sometimes, he wondered just what exactly was Harry in his life. Yes he was his savior, if it weren’t for him, he’d have suffered in the orphanage, bitter and hateful towards everyone. He was his guardian too, providing him with everything he could possibly need and want as well as the care and guidance he provided. But then…he wasn’t his parent. Harry never acted fatherly. He was just… Harry. He was someone to lean on, someone Tom trusted completely. He was special. And yet thoughts like going to the ball and asking for permission felt so odd somehow. It was going to be the first event Tom was going to attend without Harry’s presence.

“Great! I’ll owl you the invitation during our break. Mother’s been dying to meet you,” Abraxas grinned.

“Aren’t you going to invite me?” Alphard Black grumbled. “You never invite me.”

Abraxas sneered but said without any real malice, “My father invites your family every year Alphard. I really don’t see the point in personally doing so instead.”

“So cold Abby,” Owen Rosier cried, dodging a hex Abraxas sent his way for that infernal nickname. “To think we’ve only had each other for company whenever the grown-ups decide to talk in that garbled boring language they call politics.”

“Typical of you not to be able to understand political discussions,” Walburga Black snorted while her cousin Lucretia hid a laugh under a cough.

“Women,” Owen huffed under his breath. That comment alone ensured a loud argument with the two female Blacks along with Lyandra Greengrass who enjoyed putting Owen in his place ever since the boy accidentally transfigured her robes into birds. The boy had been infatuated with her since, claiming enchantment over her beauty and vicious revenge. Even now, while Rosier argued with the two second years, the moment Greengrass joined in, despite being a third year (you’d think she’d put herself above lower year spats), Owen switched to flirting and focusing all his attention on the pretty blonde. The boy wasn’t like Mulciber and Dolohov who sneered childishly at the thought of girls.

Girls…they weren’t very complicated. They were almost exactly the same as boys, in Tom’s opinion anyway. They were just fiercer and more protective. Apart from that, the only thing that made them different from boys was how…soft they tended to be. Plus the difference in the upbringing of the two genders. He also wondered why hasn’t really felt the same kind of attraction or admiration for the female population when he could see the higher years all but tripping over themselves to get some bird’s attention. And this applied to all the houses.

Maybe it was because he only had eyes for Harry.

Harry is very pretty. His eyes were incredibly green and big. Skin soft and a little pale. His smile was warm and his laugh rang pleasantly—

Right.

Well… He should probably put these feelings off for a while. Especially since he didn’t want to spook Harry off with the fact that he was too young for him.

He glanced back at the Gryffindor table and found the green-eyed boy explaining something to Scad. His eyes strayed over to Fenrir and found the boy avoiding Max as he had been doing since the day they opened his eyes. Even during the times where they’re supposed to be working on the Hogwarts map, the wolf was a bit more distracted.

He wasn’t sure whether he should sigh or smirk.

 School was starting to get dull for Tom as November rolled on. The lectures and even the practicals they had were things that, in Tom’s opinion, did not require an hour to be discussed. He had long stopped paying attention to the lectures and instead focused purely on the blasted map that he still couldn’t quite accomplish. He’d already studied basic runes and arithmacy as well as spell weaving and layering of magical threads over intention and will, but he couldn’t seem to produce a diagram that would allow each layer of spell to just…click. There were conflicts that led to setbacks that led to revisions that led to researching more solutions that led to more unknown spells that could work better and the cycle just goes on and on and on. So far, he had drafted five very well thought out diagrams that he or Fenrir rejected after finding a mistake or two upon the construction of the spell foundation.

Fenrir blamed it on Tom’s overly ambitious vision for the map. All Harry had asked was to provide a map, and instead of doing just that, he wanted and insisted upon concentrating on the feature of adding an automatic connection with the school’s wards whenever something changed. Every single person who passed by the wards would be identified and located by the map. Not only that, but Fenrir also thought that Tom was being insane with adding an orthographic mapping system so that they could simultaneously view the different floors at the same time.

They had taken the discussion to Harry who was surprisingly delighted with the orthographic view yet rejected the idea. “I’m only asking you to map out the school Tom,” he chided gently. “I’m not discouraging your ambitious ideas, but you’re not going to finish anything it if you don’t tone it down and focus on the main goal.” It ended up with Harry gleefully saying how his idea gave him something new to do. Apparently, Harry had struck up a habit of secretly disrupting whatever class he’s in by creating random explosions, transfigurations, and accidents to occur. No one ever got hurt, thankfully, but Harry said that it was either that or he’ll imagine at least a hundred ways on how to kill himself.

Tom sighed as he walked down the hallway, a foot long piece of parchment in his hands as he walked, mapping out Hogwarts in the simplest spell combination he had refused to use. Now he was feeling silly for trying to make it too complicated. He was just minding his own damn business when he came upon one of his snakes being ganged up on by a group of lions. The Slytherin was a third year, Selwyn, Tom recalled. He was brilliant at DADA and Runes.

There were four Gryffindors, none of them from Fenrir’s group of hooligans. They looked older, probably fifth year? They were sending hexes and doing a fair amount of damage to his snake who displayed very good technique and spell execution. But sadly, numbers still counted and while he was still managing on his own at the moment, he won’t last much longer.

Tom cast four consecutive body binds at the four, making them drop like stones on the floor, eyes wide with surprise. Selwyn blinked with them, though unlike them, he was the only one who could see Tom.

“Why are you alone?” Tom asked mildly, stunning the four bullies.

“I went back to get something…I carelessly told the others to go ahead,” Selwyn answered gruffly.

“Why did they attack you?” he asked with a raised brow as he beckoned the older boy to come with him. The boy was limping slightly, he noticed.

“Bertley’s been holding a grudge on me for beating him in a duel. He believed that I had cheated somehow. Couldn’t accept how his dueling skills are inferior. Especially to someone two years younger,” Selwyn grunted.

Tom led them into an empty classroom and wandlessly locked and cast a misdirection spell on the door. “Do you know any healing spells?” he asked tonelessly.

Selwyn shook his head.

“I suggest you start learning them then. But for now…” Tom cast a diagnostic spell over him, noting that, as he had guessed, the boy was only bruised with small minor cuts. He couldn’t allow him to head to the hospital wing. Not when there were four against one with all four bound and stunned in the hall. Plus this scenario left more opportunity for revenge later on.

“Th-thank you my lord,” Selwyn said roughly as Tom healed him. Tom barely stopped himself from blinking stupidly in shock. It was the first time any of the snakes ever addressed him with that title.

A small smile crossed his features before he wiped it off. “You’re welcome.” He was glad that most of the injuries were within his healing capacity. “You held them off well Selwyn. Were there only two of them, you most certainly would’ve won.”

Selwyn ducked his head and mumbled another thank you. It felt so odd to Tom, having someone older humble himself to him. It was quite overwhelming. It’s true that he had taken over and that he’d demand respect but experiencing what he earned right at that moment felt surreal.

“Now, I expect you’ll be returning the favor to them in double. Deliver the message and don’t get caught,” he said casually. No one gets away with hurting a snake.

Selwyn gave him a cruel smile, “Yes my lord.” He nodded and was about to leave when the older boy spoke again, “My lord, I… Rowle’s…old followers, his former supporters…they’ve been plotting, I suspect.”

Tom inclined his head. He hasn’t heard anything from the whispers of the snakes, none had informed him of anyone plotting anything. “How do you know of this?”

“I’m on the Quidditch team, just a sub Chaser, and after practice, I heard them talking. They didn’t take kindly to Rowle’s defeat and they’ve been careful not to speak in the dorms. Or anywhere that has a snake in the room.”

“How long?” Tom asked simply.

Selwyn looked ashamed behind his masked expression but shrugged anyways. “Weeks…”

“I see…” he didn’t expect loyalty when he first sat on the throne. It had to be earned. And being snakes, they would hold onto their cards, assessing first the situation before using them. This piece of information was a token of gratitude. “Is Rowle aware of this?”

Selwyn shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.” But he could be.

“Hmm…very well…Thank you Selwyn,” Tom said before turning on his back and exiting the empty classroom. He could not wait for them to strike. He wore a malicious smile as he went back to the dorms.

“I hate you,” Harry groaned as he tried to fight off the heavy exhaustion that held down his small body. It took a long time before the side effects of the potion hit him. He had almost forgot about it entirely until he suddenly found himself unable to stand.

“I did warn you little Master.”

“You want me to suffer,” he accused pitifully.

“You are merely paying a very natural price.”

He grunted, wanting to punch the bastard. It’s been an entire month since it hit him, the exhaustion and drowsiness. His body was struggling with the large amount of magic he held. “Why now? I’ve been a kid for over an entire year!”

“It took that long before even your magic couldn’t prevent the stress your body deals with. Naturally, an eleven year old should not be able to carry magic of your scale. Any other child would’ve died by now. But the fact that you constantly keep it locked into that earring of yours is the only thing that prevented your body from falling into this kind of misery from the start.”

Harry sighed miserably. His limbs heavy and numb. It was almost like being under the Cruciatus curse, only milder and had heavy drowsiness that came with it. It was like his body was constantly trying to gain energy to sustain itself. It couldn’t even ask help from his magic since it was the one causing it from the beginning.

He knew Fenrir and Tom had noticed how subdued he was for the past few days. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell them. They’d no doubt worry themselves and he hated that. He was supposed to be the one taking care of them. Not the one causing them distress.

It was going to be yet another night in the Room of Requirement for him.

“You’re little mate is finally having trouble with his subjects,” Death mused.

“Yeah? Nothing he can’t handle though right?” he asked sleepily.

“He won’t die from it. But other than that I can’t tell you anything. Children are capable of such nasty things. You know this fact well.”

Harry snorted. “So it’s going to be bad isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck…” Harry muttered. “How can my body accommodate my core when they aren’t compatible?”

“You start small of course. I suggest you lock up three quarters of the power you’re using for now. It’ll be easier.”

“Three? Damn. It’s that bad?” Harry groaned. “How long before I can use half?” he asked as he sealed his magic with effort. The effects were almost instantaneous. It was easier to breathe already.

“Roughly two years.”

“Are you kidding me!?”

“You’re magical levels are now closer to young Tom’s albeit still above him. You’ll need to be more careful.”

Harry sighed. “This wasn’t part of the plan…” he grumbled.

“I wasn’t even aware that you had one.”

“Of course I have one. Part of it has already been fulfilled.”

“And that would be?”

“Providing Tom with a home. Letting him grow up with love and affection.”

“How sickeningly sweet. And the other half of this marvelous plan of yours would be?”

“Helping Tom rule the world of course. I want to see him wearing the robes of the Minister. He’d look dashing. Or maybe he’d still want the defense position here in Hogwarts. Well, whatever it is he wants, I want to see and guide him through it. He’d be able to achieve what took five generations to accomplish. Just think! He’d—“

Death sighed and was subjected to having to listen to his little master drone on and on and on, gushing over his soulmate like some schoolgirl.

Chapter Text

“You’re going home for the holidays yeah?”

Fenrir continued working on the runes for the Hogwarts map and made an affirmative sound. They were almost done with it now that Tom petulantly agreed to drop the other complex features he wanted to add. They would probably be done by the end of January.

“You want to come over some time? It gets incredibly lonely being an only kid,” Charlus said, peering at the set of runes and casually dropping in a few corrections. He didn’t seem to care what Fenrir was planning. He never asked or nosed in, merely glanced at it and shrugged, even offering a few little tidbits of advice every now and then. The Potter boy was surprisingly bright despite his sometimes flamboyant behavior.

“Maybe, I’ll have to ask my uncle,” Fenrir responded. He wasn’t even going to deny the fact that, yes, he was this close to the stupid Potter boy that he wouldn’t mind spending a few days with him this hols. Plus, despite the other boy’s usual happy demeanor, he really was terribly lonely at home.

“Brill! I’ll owl you. Mum and Dad would love to meet you. Especially Mum. I mention you a lot in my letters. She thinks you’re quite the character,” Charlus grinned.

“Careful now Charlus, I might mistake this friendship as a different sort of interest on your part,” Fenrir smirked. The other boy merely laughed, waggling his brows and making a silly kissy face. Fenrir snorted and shoved at him. “I’m afraid my uncle knows nothing about you though, seeing as I don’t really owl him anything. He’s expecting me home and that’s as far as our interactions go,” he shrugged.

“All the more that you should spend the hols over at Potter Manor! You’ll love it!”

Fenrir missed his home too much to be as excited as Charlus. He wanted to curl up in his usual spots, run in their forest grounds and laze in his room. He missed their library, their training room, the pink lake Harry charmed for fun, the lovely garden he helps Harry tend to… Yeah, he missed home.

“I’ll owl you,” Fenrir promised lightly, going back to the diagram he was working on.

It was then that Selina Sapworthy plopped down next to him, a determined look on her face. “Will you owl Nora as well?” she asked casually.

Fenrir broke his quill. “And why would I ever do that?” he asked in a snarl.

She sighed. “Fine. Play dumb. It’s not like her little crush on you will last anyway,” she said with a haughty sniff.

“Go bother someone else Sapworthy,” he muttered.

“Come on Greyback. You’ve gotten along with her pretty well from the very beginning. I don’t understand why you suddenly can’t stand her now and act like a huge arse to her whenever you happen to run into her,” she said exasperated.

“I’m perfectly courteous,” Fenrir bit back.

“Cold. You’re perfectly cold,” Charlus corrected, smiling sheepishly at the betrayed glare sent his way. “Hey I’m just stating the facts here. You talk to her the way you talk to professors. All proper and distant, very polite but cold.”

“I don’t get what you want from me. Do you actually want me to go back to calling her names again?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes.” They replied together. Selina made a face at Charlus while he merely winked.

“You’re making her miserable. She’s been wracking her brain, wondering what in the world she did to make you cross with her,” Selina explained. “I’ve been trying to tell her that it isn’t her fault and that you’re just being a rotten troll, but to no luck. Surely you’ve noticed how strained her smiles have become around you, and how she can’t even flirt with you anymore.”

“She shouldn’t flirt with me in the first place,” Fenrir grunted, trying and failing to go back to his work.

“Nora’s my best friend. And you’re being a dick.”

“Language my lady,” Charlus chided playfully.

“I am not your lady,” Selina snapped.

“Put away the claws honey. I didn’t mean it that way,” he laughed while Fenrir rolled his eyes at them.

“Well you can tell Max to give up on me. Especially since she won’t stand a chance against Charlus,” Fenrir said simply, internally smirking evilly. And predictably, both of them, as well as the obvious eavesdroppers around them looked at him in confusion.

“Wha—“

“Fen—“

Fenrir shrugged. “He’s more persistent than Max. And we all see the fruits of his efforts simply by the way I address him.” It was true though. Potter had been relentless and stubborn in his pursuit of Fenrir’s friendship, for reasons Fenrir could never comprehend. And Charlus was the only one apart from Tom and Harry, who he called by their first name.

Selina looked gobsmacked as he leaned down and whispered something to a bright red and confused Charlus. “Play along or I’ll kiss you.”

Charlus sputtered but said almost shyly, “I thought you didn’t want other people knowing…” Leave it to this git to quickly play his part. Fenrir could already see the gossip mill working wonders.

“I don’t really care. If I like you, then I like you. Other people,” he looked pointedly at a gaping Selina, “don’t really have a say in it.” He packed his stuff, got up and threw a smile at Charlus, “Oh, and I’d love to meet your parents too, love. See you after Yule.”

On his way out he passed by Septimus Weasley who smiled at him in greeting. He nodded back at the prefect still finding it odd how so many of his housemates were so friendly with him after they won the Gryffindor/Slytherin match during the second week of November. Sure he was bloody brutal as a beater, but he wasn’t sure if hitting other kids off their brooms was supposed to be a way to garner respect from his housemates. Although it certainly gave him an impression of someone you should not mess with.

He headed off to the Room of Requirement, wanting to work in peace. But it was just his luck that he ran into the one person he’s been trying to avoid.

“Greyback!” Max said in surprised delight before her expression shifted to a nervous one. “Um, hello.”

Fenrir paused, willing his eyes to look straight at her forehead instead, not willing to look at her big brown eyes and pink lips—

“Good afternoon Max.”

She looked downright upset. “Er…yeah…afternoon to you too.”

Fenrir nodded and moved to walk past her but her hand shot out to grab his arm, causing all his muscles to tense up. His breath got caught in his throat and he found himself staring at her in surprise.

“Look, what’s up with you? I know we… I know we weren’t close but you’ve been so…difficult for weeks now. Did I upset you or something?” she asked, eyes searching his face, making his pulse race. “Was it because of all the flirting? It was…all just um fun you know. You get so riled up and it’s…just fun. I thought we were kind of…friends… or was it because I sent Peeves after you? Whatever it is, I’m sorry okay?”

Fenrir stared gobsmacked, desperately trying to come up with something to say. No Max, it’s none of those things. In fact, the reason I’ve been an arse to you is because I realized that you’re apparently very attractive. Right. Sure Fen. Like you could tell her that.

“It’s…actually the first bit I guess,” he said, lying through his teeth.

She listened eagerly, eyes urging him on.

“I didn’t grow up with girls. My parents died when I was young and it’s really just my uncle and me at home. The only other interactions I have are with Tom and Harry since they live close. So when you started,” he waved a hand over them to gesture to the flirting bit, “I didn’t really know how to react. So I was harsh to you and a bit nasty. When someone pointed it out to me, I stopped. But other than retaliating negatively I didn’t know how else to react.”

Her eyes had widened in understanding and Fenrir felt a flood of guilt rush through him. It wasn’t as if he was lying to her. All of that was true except for the fact that half was a…lie…

“Oh…” She said, eyes seeming to look right through him. She suddenly grinned. “Okay. I won’t do that anymore. If it’s turning you into such a stiff git and all.”

He scowled.

“Friends?” she stuck out her hand confidently, but the hint of nervousness in her voice gave her away.

Fenrir grunted and shook her hand, trying not to show a reaction of how freaking soft and small her hand was in his. She however had no inhibitions about speaking her thoughts out loud. “You’re really warm,” she said, staring at how his hand engulfed hers. This caused him to let go self-consciously, trying and failing to force back the blush that bloomed on his cheeks. He glared at her. “I’ll see you around then,” he said gruffly, and with that, he turned and hurriedly walked away.

When he was finally in front of the Room, he was relatively calmer after he stomped his way up the seventh floor. The door alerted him of someone else’s presence inside, causing him to pause and wonder for a second before pushing in. He found himself in their manor, specifically, Harry’s room. Pictures of the three of them decorated portions of the wall, the younger versions of him and Tom arguing, performing spells, laughing, having meals, and to Fen’s horror, even one with him and Tom asleep leaning against each other on the couch. There were some pictures with Harry in the picture with one or both of them, most likely taken by Gobry under Harry’s stalker instructions.

In the middle of the room was Harry’s small form buried under the covers, his messy raven locks poking out. He looked too small in his bed. Fenrir walked over to him, wondering why Harry was napping at this time of the day. He didn’t usually. From the time he knew Harry, the man/boy was almost always awake all day starting from ten in the morning, sleeping at very late hours.

He noticed dark circles under Harry’s closed eyes, his breathing deep and long.

And then the room went incredibly cold.

“Hello wolf.”

Fenrir literally jumped in fright, shifting into a defensive position over Harry. A dark rattling chuckle of bones echoed in the room, chilling his insides. A large looming figure of darkness, bones, and foggy billowing cloak floated before him, dark sunken eyes of an abyss peering at him in amusement. It looked just as terrifying as the first time he first saw him. His inner wolf was cowering and snarling.

“Death.”

The immortal being cocked his head to the side in acknowledgement of the greeting before floating over towards him.

Fenrir tried not to whimper. It just felt so wrong, to be in its presence when it was not his time. How Harry could even stand letting it hold him was beyond him. “Is Harry okay?” he asked, managing not to stutter though his voice remained trembling.

“No. But he will be.”

Fenrir glanced at Harry who remained unaffected by the being’s presence. “He’s been…down for a couple of weeks now. Is he sick or something?”

“In a way yes, little wolf. It’s a side effect of the potion that allowed him to return to the age of eleven. Because his magical core consists of years of accumulated magic, his young body cannot cope and it takes its toll on him physically. In other words my master’s magic is too much for a child to handle.”

Fenrir stared in horror and reached out to touch Harry’s cheek. “He…he’s dying?”

“Harry is immortal. He cannot, in any way or form, die. He is my master. The master of death can only be its opposite. And that is life. Harry will live forever. But he can suffer. He can experience pain. If he continued the way he did, he would likely fall into a magically induced coma to prevent himself from suffering any further. He’ll wake up once he reaches the age of seventeen. I’ve advised him to prevent that by locking up a very large portion of his magic. As of now he is only a few levels above Tom in terms of power. He is now letting his body adjust.”

Fenrir looked worriedly at Harry, wondering why he never—no of course not. Harry had appointed himself as their protector. He would not want them to worry. It made him frown, thinking that now Harry was no more than a powerful child with advanced knowledge but a child nonetheless. He was vulnerable.

“Why did you let him take the potion knowing its consequences?”

Death was quiet, drifting over to hover on the other side of Harry. It had a peculiar expression on its face and when it spoke, the words were said with a tone akin to gentleness. “Master did not…have the best life. He was deprived of the most basic things in life. And he was never allowed to be a child.”

He stared at the being in surprise, eyes darting from his horrifying skull-face to Harry’s angelic sleeping one. “So you decided to give him a chance to be a kid? Is that why he…well he acts sillier? Like a bit more immature than he used to? At first I thought it was just the illusion of him being so small now that gave me the perception of him being all childish and stuff, but was it actually because of the potion too?”

Death did not reply. Instead he faded into nothing and disappeared, clearing the air of the dark heavy aura it carries around with it.

Fenrir sighed, sitting down next to the sleeping boy. Harry had always been this bright ray of sunshine to Fen, practically exhaling optimism and hope. His life was dark and his kind was considered as trash. They were a waste of space an outcast in society. A monster. And yet here was this idiot beaming at him and asking him if he’d like his meat bloodier. He had crushed Fenrir’s defenses within a few days and before he knew it, Fenrir and the wolf inside him had accepted them as his pack. To him, Harry was a hero. He was kind but ruthless, clever but strangely naïve, and he was nothing but genuine.

He gave Fen a home when his own parents didn’t want him. When his own pack cast him aside to die.

But Harry had wanted him to stay.

Harry thinks of him as family.

And Fenrir would do everything he could to protect him (and Tom, even if he’s such a git sometimes).

He was about to get up and move over to the couches to start on his work when all of a sudden, the small boy lurched from the bed, eyes wide and a breathless gasp of “Tom!” leaving his lips.

Something was wrong. Tom could feel the disturbance in the air, shifting restlessly through the room. It was the last three days before they had to go home for the holidays, and his Slytherins were being careful. The first years seemed genuinely unaware, resuming their daily routines and badgering him about random things. The older years though… they were acting up. Selwyn had kept his distance yet greeted him courteously. The older years stayed away like always but…

There was something wrong.

He couldn’t gauge how many were aware of the plot against him, how many were part of it, how many were waiting for his downfall.

But he could sense it.

The snakes haven’t given him anything very substantial to what plot was being done. Those scheming were careful not to discuss anything within Slytherin territory.

He sighed. There have been some attempts here and there. Poisoning his food, trying to curse his belongings, rouge hexes coincidentally flying in his direction in a crowd. They were all useless. But they left no proof of the person’s undoing.

He knew it was Jugson and Travers. He would commend their ability to lay low and hidden though.

“Hey Marvolo, wanna play exploding snap?” asked Rosier.

“No thank you. Have you seen Abraxas?” he asked as he sat next to Avery. The boy shook his head. “Haven’t seen him.”

“I think he said something about going to the owlery. Probably sending a letter to his mum ‘bout the ball,” Alphard Black said as he sat in front of Rosier to start the game.

Tom nodded, wondering when Abraxas would get back. He wouldn’t take long for sure. He needed to ask him some things about Jugson and Travers’ families.

He was outlining a book he borrowed about runes when he started feeling agitated. Something felt incredibly off.

“Bloody—“

“You suck at this mate,” laughed Rosier.

Alphard grumbled and made a very rude comment about the other boy’s mum. Rosier taunted him some more while Mulciber yawned next to Avery. Dolohov, who has been steadily getting more comfortable in his presence but still humble, strolled in, smiling when he noticed the game and asked if he could join. Lestrange was doing his best not to seem interested in the game but ended up asking to join after a few more minutes of eyeing them. Everything seemed normal and okay until Tom felt his insides twist in alarm.

Something was very very wrong right now.

“Are you sure Abraxas only went to the owlery?” he asked them again.

Alphard paused in insulting Rosier for his stupid face and frowned in thought. “Yes, well, that’s what he said to me before he left. ‘Was holding a letter and everything.”

Tom got up. Abraxas shouldn’t be taking so long. “He went alone?” he asked them quietly.

The others paused, some expressions morphing in dread and some in confusion. “Yes…”

Tom said no more and hurriedly left the common room, heart racing with dread. He hoped he was wrong. He took off his earring as he practically ran in the hallways, ignoring some of the curious looks he received from people of different houses. He let his magic spread as wide as he could, spreading through as vast a radius as possible. He had memorized all of the first years’ magical auras during the first week. And he was especially in tune with the blonde’s seeing as they were almost always together.

He wasn’t even near the owlery when he felt it. His magic caught a whiff of his friend and he bolted after casting a frantic disillusionment spell on himself. His magic led him to an abandoned classroom, and his heart rate doubled.

No.

Please.

When he opened the door, wand out and ready, he stopped cold.

Abraxas lay in a bloody mess on the floor. His wand arm bent in a gruesome angle, blonde hair soaked in red. Tom couldn’t speak as he hurried over to his friend. “Abraxas…Braxas?”

He wasn’t breathing.

Tom’s heart dropped and his mind shut down on him. He couldn’t breathe. Abraxas was…

The only thing that left his lips was a desperate cry for help.

“Harry!”

Chapter Text

Tom didn’t know that he was crying. Crying and panicking. His head was a mess, any form of a collected thought nowhere to be found while his body trembled with growing tension in his distress. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help his first friend. There was so much blood, the scent of it filling his nostrils and making his head swim.

“Harry!” He needed Harry. He’ll—

Just as his mind scrambled to get himself to contact Harry properly through the earring, he was there. Harry appeared in a fog of black, bright green eyes wide with worry and concern.

“Harry!” He croaked, but could not move from where he was kneeling beside the bloody body of Abraxas Malfoy.

Harry’s eyes scanned over him before quickly darting to Abraxas. His face paled before hurriedly kneeling down and whispering words that seemed as if he was talking to someone, but obviously not Tom. The boy nodded at some unspoken answer before he took out his wand and started getting to work.

“He—he wasn’t breathing,” Tom whispered shakily as Harry paused in his work. His words received a curt nod, Harry’s brows furrowed in concentration. Even in his panic, Tom realized that Abraxas wasn’t dead. Surely not since Harry was still trying to save him. It wasn’t over yet. His friend wasn’t dead.

“How can I help?” He asked shakily, determinedly.

“Fix his clothes,” Harry ordered quietly, “I placed them on the teacher’s desk.” His magic surrounded them, giving comfort to Tom and helping his nerves.

Tom nodded, getting up on shaky legs. He’d seen the damage done to his friend. Seen Harry’s magic return the blood to the open wounds. Seen the way Harry gently but urgently touched the horrible way the blonde’s arm had bent and watched it slowly, but surely, right itself. Abraxas will be okay.

He went about his assigned task dutifully, fixing up the blood-soaked uniform and repairing the torn fabric diligently, making it look as good as new. He had learned a good number of household spells because of Harry’s insistence and pestering to get Tom to take care of him. The man always went to him when he ripped a shirt, stained his clothes, when he couldn’t get his hair to follow orders and other small household jobs. Tom suspected that Harry wanted him to be able to take care of himself without having to rely on the house elves. Once he was done, Abraxas looked remarkably better and Tom breathed. He made his way back to Harry’s side and watched him cut his palm and open Abraxas’ mouth to let his blood drip in.

“He was under a curse similar to the cruciatus curse,” Harry explained, “Some of his nerves are damaged from prolonged exposure. While the effect is not as severe as to being crucio-ed, it’s close enough. I’m going to use my blood to reverse the effects.”

“Blood magic,” Tom said, his thoughts focusing on the task at hand while filing away his rage over what has been done to the blonde.

“Yes. Although you won’t find this kind of magic in any book, and is considerably rarer even for blood magic. I’ll be able to manipulate my blood to work inside him and heal the other internal injuries he suffered. He’s been tortured and beaten up to the brink of death. But funny enough, he was under some kind of stasis spell. The reason he wasn’t breathing was because he’d been frozen in this state. As if someone was just waiting for him to be found. Whoever did this didn’t want the boy dead, but close to it,” Harry answered, a bright red glow now travelling throughout the blonde’s body.

“What—why? I—“ Tom stopped midsentence, mind reeling with the information. It was a plot. Someone was supposed to find Abraxas and bring the incident to light. But why? Why would they hurt his friend when Tom can and will do everything he can to place the evidence on the table after he makes the bastards who did this suffer? That and the fact that Abraxas was a Malfoy! One of the wealthiest families in Britain. Only a fool would hurt him without considering the backlash they’d receive for it. It just didn’t add up.

“I suspect we’ll find out soon once he wakes up,” Harry said as he started to whisper words Tom couldn’t recognize. Magic swirled around them, so thick Tom could feel it brush against his skin, eager to take action before Harry stopped and all of it came rushing to him, concentrating under his palms before seeping deep into the pale body lying unconscious on the floor. He glowed red in the middle of his chest and then the magic seemed to take shape into something liquid and bright, spreading through pale limbs, swirling and moving underneath his friend’s skin like glowing vines. It looked beautiful and eerie.

It went like that for several minutes before finally settling and disappearing.

And it was only then that Tom noticed Harry panting. His eyes took in pale chalky skin, sweat rolling down his temples. Tom had never seen Harry this tired before. “Harry, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for him, worried and afraid. Harry was strong. He had watched him perform magic leaps beyond what he did just now without even breaking a sweat. But now here he was, dragging in ragged breaths, looking like he had death looming over.

“Sorry Tom… this body isn’t accustomed to using so much magic… it takes a toll on me…” Harry panted, leaning into Tom’s touch gratefully.

“Is that why you’ve been so tired?” Tom said in realization. “Why didn’t you tell me? Does Fen know?”

“No…I don’t think so…I never told you two… didn’t want you to worry…” His eyes dropped and he lowered his head on Tom’s shoulder. “I’m not going to last… feel like falling asleep already…”

 “What should I do? How can I help?” Tom asked urgently, wrapping his arms around the smaller frame. He didn’t feel Harry smile against his shoulder at concern, too busy fussing, which he’ll never admit was what he was doing.

“I’ll just… move us to the Room of Requirement… need to sleep… And Malfoy needs to be hidden…bad children…still after you both… their plan…” The familiar darkness warped them and Tom felt the usual shift in surroundings to find them inside the special room that now looked like their living room in the manor. Harry struggled to get up and Tom cast a lightening charm wandlessly before hoisting him up in a bridal carry. Harry managed a weak laugh, wrapping his arms around his neck and smiling at him sleepily. He was asleep before Tom lowered him to the bed he requested from the room. He ran a quick diagnostic scan that brought a worried frown on his face as well as a tightening in his chest. Harry had exhausted his body. It was as if the boy had run laps around Hogwarts for days without water or food. His magic was sealed and he was shocked to see how much Harry had locked up.

Since when has Harry been dealing with this alone?

He grit his teeth, hating how Harry still tried keep everything to himself. Stupid git. How was Tom supposed to help him if he can’t even bring himself to tell him what was bothering him. Harry always tried to protect them, keep them from worrying about him—

A groan from behind him snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to find Abraxas stirring.

He got up and hurried over to where they had placed the blonde on the huge couch. “Abraxas!” he said hovering over him, watching in great relief as grey eyes fluttered open. “Are you alright?”

Grey eyes widened and Tom felt as if he was slapped. There was fear swirling in those eyes…Never had he been subjected to seeing raw fear from someone he considered a friend.

“Abr—“

Abraxas screamed.

Tom barely managed to avoid the hit that was aimed at him, shocked and confused as he stumbled back, staring at the trembling frightened blonde with fear in his eyes. He suddenly found himself trapped in those eyes, feeling the fear, pain and the pleading begging desire to make it all stop. He would later realize that it was his very first attempt at legilimency. He saw himself casting a curse on the blonde, saw his own face grinning with malicious pleasure as the blonde writhed and screamed, his arm twisting slowly, surely, drawing out the pain longer and longer, the sound of bone snapping, echoing distinctly along with the blonde’s cries.

Tom’s legs gave out… his mind reeling in shock. A memory… He had done that? But—he didn’t—he’d never—! That wasn’t him… it couldn’t possibly be him. He remembered wondering where Abraxas was the entire day, remembered the creeping worry ringing in his ear. He hadn’t cast that curse. He hadn’t been there. He wasn’t the one that stood there enjoying the pain and torture being done to his friend.

It wasn’t him.

If it wasn’t him then…

Someone had worn his face and tortured his friend. Someone wanted him blamed and the heir of the Noble House of Malfoy tortured and scarred. They wanted the house to be after his blood.

Tom could feel the suppressed rage sizzle in his veins, his magic roaring with the need to return the pain that they caused Abraxas. He wanted to hurt them. Make them remember never to lay a hand on those he cared about.

His eyes returned once more to the huddled form on the sofa. The Malfoy heir was curled defensively, trembling and staring fearfully back at him with wild eyes. He didn’t know how to help him, not when it was his face he was being wrongfully feared for.

Just then, the doors opened and Tom was surprised to find Fenrir looking as if he ran around the castle, and behind him was…Scad?

“There you fucking are!” Fenrir huffed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you tw—three? What’s little Malfoy doing here? And is he alright?” he asked as he approached them. Scamardo, with that ever present blank look on her face walked over to the bed where Harry lay sleeping.

Tom turned back to the wolf and responded tightly. “Someone tortured him. I suspect they were polyjuiced as me.”

“What!?”

“They want the blame to fall on me so I can get expelled and have the House of Malfoy after my blood,” he said.

Fenrir wore a dark expression before briefly looking over at Harry. “Is he alright? He healed your friend, didn’t he?”

“Yes… he’s incredibly exhausted… he’ll need to rest for an entire week from it,” Tom said sadly.

“Oi Scamardo! Think you can keep an eye on Harry for us?”

The brunette glanced at them wordlessly before turning back to watch Harry sleep. She exuded an awfully protective aura around her despite her unreadable expression. She leaned back on the chair next to the bed and brought out a book and began reading.

“Alright, that was a yes. Now, what are you going to do with the assholes who did this to blondie? Any leads?” Fenrir asked, frowning at the horrid state his friend was in.

“Yes. They’re from my house. They did this to overthrow me,” Tom replied wryly, the dark promise in his voice wrapped thick around his words.

Fenrir looked at him in surprise before shaking his head ruefully. He seemed to just stare at the cowering boy, an ever present frown on his face. Tom could only assume that he was thinking of the difference in their houses. Gryffindor may never be this thorough in their plans and dark incidents such as these might be rare, but regardless of house, things that involved power plays were always brutal.. “That’s just… So, how are you going to deal with them?”

Tom’s expression showed something that visibly made Fenrir tense. The boy was now radiating a vicious aura promising unimaginable pain. Fenrir had never seen him that way before, and his instincts couldn’t help but be wary.

“We need to heal Abraxas. I want you to take a look at his memories and find a way to gloss it over. If you can obliviate him of the torture, then all the better. But just the torture.”

Fenrir looked at him steadily before nodding. “Alright. I think I can manage that.” It was one of the things Harry taught him when he had agreed to attending Hogwarts. He needed to master Obliviate, in case he was discovered. He managed it well on his first try on an unsuspecting muggle under Harry’s strict and careful supervision. Tom still had difficulty with such a spell at his age but he was still better than most. Though not as good as Fenrir surprisingly was.

“Hide your presence, or pretend to leave. He won’t calm down if you’re still here,” Fenrir whispered as he took a cautious step towards Abraxas who never took his eyes away from Tom. He did as told and walked away in a show of going out the door before moving back inside disillusioned. It was a relief that some of the terror left Malfoy’s eyes even for just a small fraction, curling in on himself as if he was going to cry.

“Blondie?” Fenrir said as he moved closer, ignoring the flinch it caused. He was not directly in front of him, crouched to level their eyes. “Hey, c’mon blondie, you remember me right?”

Tom could feel his anger rise at the look on Abraxas face.

Fenrir gave him a small smile, ignoring the scared expression. “Shhh, I want you to remember this okay? Your friend asked me to make the pain go away. And I can do that. You won’t remember anything that happened to you. Is that okay?”

Abraxas closed his eyes tightly and nodded, tears streaming down his face. Tom was shaking where he stood. He watched Fenrir slowly bring out his wand, letting Abraxas see his every move, before murmuring, “Obliviate.”

Malfoy’s eyes glazed over and Fenrir put him to sleep.

”Can you watch over Abraxas for me?” Tom said softly after he stared at Abraxas’ peaceful expression. Harry had completely healed him, no scars, no evidence that only a few moments ago he was on the brink of death.

Fenrir nodded without hesitation.

Tom whirled around before marching out the room, face set into a blank expression that would have fooled everyone were it not for the air around him. He made his way to the Slytherin common room and almost immediately, all conversation died. No one could not notice the aura he exuded.

 Tom cast cold eyes over at one of the snakes and hissed “Bring everyone out into the common room.”

All at once, all the snakes slithered away into all the rooms, rendering screams and rising panic all around them. Tom didn’t care as he cast a silencing charm so as not to be overheard outside the common room. He wanted everyone to see what he was going to do to those who try to hurt his friends. He wanted them all to remember this, to carve it out in their minds that you do not hurt what is his.

Everyone trickled in until the entire common room was full. The older, wiser Slytherins arriving with as much dignity as they could unlike the lower years who were scared and angry, struggling futilely. Tom had a full body shield on him like a second skin, one of the very first things Harry had taught him and can now do without even batting an eye. He removed the earring and took a deep breath as the full force of his magic settled in him. There were collective gasps that he paid no mind to and instead took out his wand and summoned a snake, inwardly pleasantly surprised with the creature before him. She was beautiful, huge and obviously powerful.

“Hello beautiful.” He couldn’t help saying, his anger temporarily forgotten.

The large viper in front of him who had been hissing angrily at everyone, demanding how she had gotten there, paused in surprise as she turned to him. “A speaker! I’m assuming that it is you who summoned me here then?”

“Unfortunately yes. It’s actually my first time with this spell. I did not know it would drag away a snake from its home. I apologize,” he replied.

“Forgiven young master. Why is it that you have summoned me in front of these hatchlings?” she asked curiously, hissing angrily at one of the whimpering second year who had a castle snake wrapped threateningly around his throat. Some of the girls were already crying.

“I needed a snake to represent me. A real snake. A friend of mine was beaten and tortured by people going against me. I’m going to ask if you would be willing to participate in teaching them a lesson,” Tom replied pleasantly.

“It would be an honor young master.”

“When I became King, I expected some to go against me. Only a fool would follow someone blindly. But it went beyond that,” Tom said slowly. “Now, I want those responsible to step forward. And maybe it won’t hurt as much. Don’t bother hiding from me with your silence. I already know who you are. All of you. Now this is a test. We’ll see how many you involved in your little plot, and we’ll all listen to you screaming yourselves raw.”

Everyone looked terrified, some looked doubtful, clearly underestimating him while the lower years just looked pitiful. Giving them all a dark smirk, he activated the rune in his earring, spreading a powerful ward that enclosed the common room separate from everywhere else. It was something Harry added later on again for their protection. And now Tom found other uses for it.

“Engorgio,” he hissed in parseltongue and the viper grew into a monstrous size that ripped out screamed from his faithless subjects. He hissed at the little serpents to release his fellow first years after confirming no ill intent from them. Which meant…

“What is your name beautiful?” he asked as he looked at the huge snake terrifying the others.

“Nagini young master.”

“And I am Tom. Thomas Marvolo Gaunt. Heir of Slytherin. Pleasure to meet you my dear.”

“Are you just going to feed us to your pet!?” One courageous fifth year demanded. “You will never be able to cover that up with the school!”

“I don’t need to kill any of you. And be quiet lest you include yourself on my list. Nagini,” he said and the giant viper focused on the fifth year, who pointed his want at it with trembling hands. “I can send the snakes to slither into your skin, a waiting curse that will activate when you leave school. One that can only be removed by its counterspell in parseltongue. Speak foolishly again and you will find yourself end some time in the middle of your summer. Tell others about it and it’ll slither into…other parts of you and punish you for it.”

He turned to everyone else. “I’m here to make an example of what happens when you hurt what is mine. Jugson and Travers were brought up front forcefully by the painting snakes. “You didn’t step forward,” Tom mused aloud.

“Don’t try to blame us for what sadistic shit you did Gaunt!” Jugson barked. Travers looked less confident and said nothing eyeing Nagini as she slithered around them, taking up most of the space as everyone avoided her. Tom knew they were still banking on Malfoy telling everyone Tom tortured him.

They had underestimated him as some common eleven year old.

And in all honesty their plan would have succeeded had Tom not listened to his gut, found Abraxas in time and had Harry heal him. He would’ve found himself expelled, with his future down the drain as the Malfoy family will make sure he has no place to belong in wizarding society while most likely attempting his murder for what he supposedly did to their son.

It would’ve worked splendidly.

If he wasn’t who he is.

Tom pointed his wand at Jugson and hissed, “Crucio.”

Chapter Text

When Harry felt his consciousness come back to him, he immediately tensed. He couldn’t feel Tom near him. Memories of the Malfoy lad in a tortured state rang alarm bells in his head as he immediately searched for Tom through the link they have. He only calmed down slightly when he felt Fenrir near him, and when he felt Tom quite safe.

Well, aside from the fact that he can feel him doing some very intense dark magic…

When he opened his eyes, he was slightly surprised to see Scad sitting next to the bed he was on. She closed her book after folding the corner, something that made Harry scrunch his nose in disapproval. “You shouldn’t do that. How would you like it if I folded your ears permanently?” he asked weakly. Blast. Healing Malfoy just reset his resting period. And although he’s been getting better, his eleven year old body was still not fit to handle hundreds or so years of accumulated magic for him. He had been getting around to training it to fit at least the amount he had left for himself without burning out like this, but so far he hasn’t really pushed himself into it yet. Well, now that the two brats knew about it, he’ll have to do better so as not to worry them.

And knowing Tom, he was going to be hovering over him relentlessly.

“Books don’t have ears Harry,” Scad corrected patiently, tucking some of her brown hair behind her ear. She frowned at him. “I thought you were getting better.”

Harry smiled humorlessly. “I thought so too.”

“Harry,” Fenrir said, handing him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted. He sluggishly sat up, feeling as if his limbs had doubled their weight. After downing the entire glass, Fenrir took it from him and set it aside to flick his forehead.

“Why do you keep on making us worry?” he demanded, glaring sternly at him, making Harry crack a smile. They were the same words he threw back at the young wolf during the time he hurt himself but was still not comfortable enough to let them know.

“Sorry mum,” he grinned weakly.

Fenrir sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the glare Scad threw his way from the flick he gave Harry. “Alright, now fess up. Tell us everything. D already explained some things to me, but I still don’t know your part of the story.”

“D?” Harry asked.

“Your ever loyal creepy servant,” Fenrir said.

“I am so telling him that, though I doubt he’d care,” Harry said, brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Where’s little Malfoy?”

“It’s odd for you to call him little when he’s taller than you,” Scad pointed out tonelessly.

“Hush Scad,” Harry grinned. Fenrir waved over to the couch where surely enough there lay a lad sleeping peacefully with a blanket over him. “So, what did I miss?”

Fenrir clicked his tongue. “You better explain your condition first Harry.”

Harry sighed, lying back tiredly. “It’s as D explained. My magic is too much for my body. I need to be stronger. I need to be seventeen by the time I can access all of it like I did before. And fifteen to access half. Thirteen to double what I’m allowed to use now. If I don’t improve my physical condition soon, I will fall into a magical coma and miss six long years of your lives…”

Fenrir looked pained. “What do you need to do to improve physically?”

“Taking in the fact that my body has dealt with ten years of abuse and malnourishment, I need to settle into a healthy diet, a strict one at that. Then I’ll need a proper exercise menu. Then from exercise I need to start with light training. The stronger I am the easier I move. The easier I move the better my magic flows, the more compatible I start to become with it. It’s the same as buying a lovely and incredibly expensive dress that doesn’t fit you. You wear it now, you trip, you ruin it, you expose yourself, you look horrible. Wear it later when you finally fit it and it looks smashing.”

“Of all the things you compare it to, you decide to use a dress fitting. You not telling me something Harbear?” Fenrir asked exasperated.

“I did buy a dress before. In fact I wore it for Abraxas’ great great great grandson.”

“Merlin Harry!” Fenrir said blushing and glancing at the sleeping blonde while the raven haired boy laughed merrily.

Harry didn’t bother correcting whatever perverted thoughts the wolf was having.

Harry didn’t bother correcting whatever perverted thoughts the wolf was having though the boy was wrong. Being polyjuiced as the young Malfoy’s fiancee in order for the boy to pick out the “perfect” dress to surprise his bride was the only thing the blonde had asked for in return for letting Harry test out a potion on him.

Now that he thought about it, it was very fortunate that he managed to save Abraxas Malfoy. He was kind of looking forward to meeting Draco again. The git better grow up as arrogant as he did originally. Because Harry would find him terribly boring if he didn’t. But if Tom remained close friends with the Malfoy boy, Harry would have a strong connection to the family and can quite possibly influence young Draco’s upbringing in the future. He’ll mold the brat into someone who’s good qualities won’t need a bloody war to emerge.

Oh! He can bully Lucius!

“Please tell me you’re not planning on killing anyone,” Fenrir sighed, pinching the space between his brows. The little action reminded Harry strongly of Tom whenever he scolded him for being reckless.

“Why would you even assume that?” Harry mused, reaching out to pull at one of the boy’s cheeks. He did that a lot to Hermione and Ron’s kids. Especially to his godson Teddy. Funny enough none of the children had ever minded.

“Maybe because you smelled slightly of bloodlust?” Fenrir joked.

“I forgot you can smell that…well technically you’re sensing it, rather than smelling it.”

“What does bloodlust smell like?” Scad asked.

Harry noticed the change in Fenrir’s magical aura even when the wolf remained completely unaffected by the question on the outside. He probably forgot about Scad who tended to lose her presence whenever she drew into herself.

It made him smile slightly while he gave Fen’s cheek a gentle tap. Telling him without words that he’s safe. And that Scad could be trusted.

Although it wasn’t really that Scad was trustworthy but more on she’d be too lazy to tell anyone or would be too lazy to deal with everything that came with her outing him (which included lots of running, hiding, and living in paranoia because Harry will toy with her before he ends her).

“Enough of that, tell me what happened while I was out cold,” he said.

Fenrir sighed and sat down, the bed dipping from his weight. Harry bit back a smile, he was such a big lad. He’d definitely pass of as a sixth year with the way he is. But at the same time he’d look like he was stuck in his 30’s once he reached his 60s to 100s with his werewolf genes judging by what little Harry could remember of him during the war.

“Malfoy woke up and completely went nutters on Tom. Apparently, some prick polyjuiced as Tom while torturing blondie over there. It was quite a fucked up ploy to ruin Tom by having an influencial and powerful pureblood family after him. He’ll have no future in the wizarding society had they succeeded. It was really about making the blonde suffer rather than kill him. They needed him scarred and broken to ruin Tom.” Harry whistled. Damn. Kids were nasty. Well, not that he didn’t know that first hand. Thank you cousin Dudley, for teaching me the harsh reality that I never forgot despite having lived hundreds of years. That first 20 years of his life, he kept it at the heart of his memories. He didn’t want to forget it.

“So that’s why he’s performing some very bad spells that I didn’t think he’d use until he was fifteen,” Harry said with a sigh.

Fenrir looked surprised and Scad frowned. “How do you…no nevermind. I don’t really want to know,” she said. “I only really came here because…” She paused with a frustrated and irritated look on her young face, blowing a loose curl out of her face and making Harry laugh. She did not look like she wanted to explain further since Harry obviously understood. “Yeah I know. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he promised.

Her shoulders sagged a small fraction, making Harry grin at her relief. She stared at him, then at an obviously lost Fen before nodding and standing up to leave with her book.

“Stop reading while walking!” Harry called out.

And as expected he was ignored.

Fenrir looked at him questioningly.

“I was supposed to meet up with her earlier. And when that obviously didn’t happen she looked for me. Wasn’t really planning on staying but seeing me out cold made her worry. She honestly doesn’t care about my secrets and was all but ready to leave once she confirmed that I wasn’t dying,” Harry explained. “Now, how did you manage to calm Malfoy? Did you just put him to sleep?”

Fenrir looked over at the sleeping boy. “Tom asked me to obliviate him of the torture. We’ll have to explain some things to him once he wakes up.”

Harry nodded. “That was probably for the best. He didn’t deserve to go through such a thing over a silly spat for some snake throne.” Fenrir nodded. “They’re all off their rockers, aren’t they? Those Slytherin bunch.”

Harry laughed. “All houses have a fucked up system. Gryffindor has an obnoxious leader, Hufflepuff has this weird thing with staying in the shadows, too shy for glory, and Ravenclaw always has a competition with grades. They’re not as established as Slytherin with their rank in power. And definitely not as often nasty, but they have their own deplorable way of punishment for someone who disrupts their system. Often times, in the form of brutal and blatant bullying. Slytherin keeps their shit within their house and defends their kind despite the conflict. The other three houses use the entire school to pick on their outcast.”

Fenrir grimaced. “I’d like to see anyone try and bully you,” he said with a snort.

Harry grinned maliciously. “I was being bullied by the entire wizarding community when I was a bloody teen. Silly children can’t possibly hurt me.” He hid a frown at the thought of how Tom’s cold shoulder had made him cry.

Okay so children can hurt him.

“Should we wake—“ he was about to say when the doors burst open, revealing his young soulmate who had sizzling remnants of dark magic hanging around him.

“Tom,” Harry said simply, wrinkling his nose at the dark magic. “Did you just use one of the unforgivable?”

Fenrir’s eyes widened, “What!? You--!”

Tom stared back at him unrepenting. “So what if I did? Those bastards got what they deserved,” he spat venomously.

“Oi,” Fenrir said gruffly. “What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?”

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. “You know what they did. Why are you asking me this?”

“Could you have used some other way of punishing them?” Fenrir grunted, “I can actually smell their screams off you.”

Harry blinked curiously at him. “Can you really?”

Fenrir scrunched up his nose much like Harry did. “Yeah, a bit. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well good. Proves how much they suffered from what they did,” Tom said coldly, walking over to the bed after a glance at his blonde friend.

Harry stared at him. He may be all for Tom ruling over the wizarding world…but he didn’t want him making the same mistakes he did this early in his life. “Did they confess?”

Tom scoffed. “I knew it was them. One of the older years had warned me. Plus they already looked pathetically guilty of their—“

“Someone told you? Did you have concrete proof?” Harry pressed on without pause.

Tom glared. “Why do you keep asking for proof!? You saw what happened to Abraxas! It’s them! I know it!”

Harry remained expressionless. “So you punished them. You crucioed them without solid proof.”

Tom blinked. “Of course I—“

“Show me the memory. Show me how you punished them,” Harry said simply.

Fenrir remained quiet. The Harry in front of him was the one who took him in. The older Harry without the influence of his physical age. And he looked…disappointed.

Tom hesitated, before narrowing his eyes at him and looking cold. “Be my guest,” he said.

Harry reached out, not bothering to use his wand as he touched Tom’s temple, his fingertips barely grazing his skin as Harry easily copied the memory. He had learned early in life that mind magic did not need a lot of magic. Just a deeper understanding of the intricacies of that branch of magic and it can be performed without a wand. It was a conclusion he got from studying legilimency.

Holding it contained in a small sphere of his magic, as the Room provided a pensieve. Taking out his wand, he dumped the memory in and enlarged the pensieve and spelled it for them to view on its surface instead of having to dive in.

Harry wanted to laugh at the way Tom rushed in like a Gryffindor barking orders while looking bloodthirsty. But a frown did work its way past his lips as he watched the other first years look terrified. Nothing about it was Slytherin at all. He was an angry lion. Or was he a wolf? Since he was out for blood because of an injured cub. Maybe Fen’s wolf side was rubbing off on him.

Once the memory was finished, Harry very much felt like clapping. Clapping and whooping. And he has this terribly strong urge to glomp him for being such an adorable tyrant.

But the way Tom was right now won’t do.

“I never knew you were such a Gryffindor,” Harry mused lightly. He could hear Fenrir trying not to laugh. Tom looked like he was going to pop a vein, not at his words but mainly at his tone. Well, Harry hoped it was because of his tone since getting angry over being called a lion would be pretty much against what he taught him about house prejudice. “So, is this the kind of ruler you want to be?”

Tom gazed coldly back at him, and Harry bit back a smile at how confused and defensive he was being.

“You’re going to rule your subjects using fear?” Harry asked.

Tom gritted his teeth. For an eleven year old, he looked down right angry. “What of it!? They had to learn not to ever repeat the same mistake! They needed to know what happens when—“

“You really think that way?” Harry asked quietly.

Tom’s eyes blazed. “What would you have me do!? Give them a threat and a proper scolding? I’m not their mum! I’m—“

Harry’s green eyes flashed and Tom faltered, not even realizing that he had raised his voice. He often yelled at Harry when he was younger, not wanting to listen since he wasn’t used to answering to someone. Not even the matrons meddled the way Harry did at times. He hated it until he heard himself. He sounded so loud. He’s never been loud before. And after hearing himself, it was only then that he actually listened to what Harry was telling him.

But even during those times, Harry never looked at him the way he was looking at him now.

“Fear is nothing but a knife waiting to lodge in you back,” Harry said.

“But…”

“Isn’t that the same as how those bullies from the orphanage treated you?” Harry said, unrelenting.

Tom looked about ready to explode.

Fenrir only knew very little about the boy’s past but hearing Harry throw it at him like that surprised him.

“I mean, don’t tell me scaring all your other subjects, who by the way did nothing wrong and could have been supporting you, was a way to lord your power over them? Children who are magically inferior to you and students who don’t even actively participate in your silly hierarchy were subjected to a traumatic experience that will haunt them at night and have them walking on eggshells around you. Why, I think you’ve just planted a seed with your little stunt. Keep this up and they’ll get tired of fearing you and will find a way to get rid of you for good.”

“That…you can’t know that,” Tom said angrily. But it was obviously weak.

Harry leaned forward, green eyes bright. “Tom, are you afraid of me?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “N-no.”

“Why?”

Tom looked lost, not understanding how Harry fit into the discussion.

Harry’s face gentled. “Because you know I care about you. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. And you know that I love you.”

Tom was visibly floored, a pink flush appearing on his cheeks before he forced it back with a glare. “Why are you telling me this?”

Harry reached out, running a hand through Tom’s dark hair. “You are loyal to me, yes?”

Tom nodded, glare lessening since the embarrassment had died away.

“And I to you,” Harry said warmly. He drew his hand back and gave the boy a sad smile. “Fear is a weak way to have someone on your side. I’m not saying you have to be genuine to everyone, manipulate them if you want, but be honest to a select few you think who deserve it. Do that and you’ll have snakes who are as loyal as Hufflepuffs at your beck and call. You won’t have to constantly watch your back because they’ll be there defending it.”

“Fear is for the enemy not your friends. You can’t rule a kingdom while turning each and every one of them your enemy,” Harry said smiling slightly. “Don’t do the same thing the Tom Marvolo Riddle I encountered did with his followers. The only faithful follower he truly had was an insane Black who would lick his shoes without a second thought. His most useful followers were a brilliant potion master who was in fact a spy, and a rich pureblood who renounced his loyalty to him without regret…well that is, until he went after him. He had hundreds of followers but everyone left running the moment he fell. If they had been considered loyal, well, they only stuck with him because they had no choice. It was either serve him or die. That or siding with him gave them an opportunity to freely use dark magic, torture people, and kill as many muggles as they want.”

Tom looked like he was absorbing the information, his face pale and distraught.

“Did…did they kill me?”

There wasn’t even a long pause that followed after the question. But for some reason, it felt long to both Tom and Fenrir.

Yet…

Harry’s smile never wavered. “No, I did.”

Chapter Text

Hi everyone

I'm so sorry I've been gone for so long and will continue to be for a bit more. I'll be resuming updates somewhere during the third week of april. I haven't continued this due to being busy with my thesis and ojt so yeah, I hope you all understand T^T I've missed writing Rewritten and I haven't even touched the parts of the story that made me wanna write it in the first place. Still so much fluff I need to smother Harry with. So yeah, see you in april and I hope you have a great day.

<3

your very stressed author

Chapter Text

A deafening silence settled heavily in the room as Fenrir stared at Harry in absolute disbelief, looking for any trace of something to indicate that Harry was just pulling their leg. He was waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke and tell them the truth but…

Harry didn’t laugh.

He was smiling that warm fond smile, eyes soft on Tom, who was in the same state as Fenrir, albeit, a little worse. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly parted, skin deathly pale, looking like he’s waiting for the punchline as well.

When it slowly dawned on them that Harry wasn’t kidding, Tom said, “I…I don’t understand.”

Harry leaned back, eyes never leaving him, smile slowly fading. “What part do you not understand?”

“Why…why’d you kill me? You said we were…”

“We are.”

“Then why!?” Tom said, looking slightly unstable. Fenrir couldn’t blame him. This was a fucking revelation.

Harry sighed. “Because you were trying to kill me. Since birth. You’ve been after me before I could even walk.”

Fenrir’s brows furrowed. “Why? That doesn’t make sense!”

“Nothing makes sense to a madman Fen,” Harry said with a slight shrug.

“M-madman?” Tom repeated.

Harry smiled ruefully. “Mmhmm.”

“Are you going to explain or not?” Tom asked hotly, looking close to actually stomping his foot. It was pretty rare for him to act impatient and close to his actual age since he has this odd fixation with acting years older than he actually is. Fenrir could see how it was taking everything he can to not scream and shake Harry for answers.

Harry’s eyes settled on him before closing them and taking a deep breath. “Tom Marvolo Riddle,” he spoke the name as if it was a separate person from the one in front of him, "played with some very dark magic which became the cause of his madness. He was out of control. Killing people left and right. Anyone who displeased him was met with either a crucio or the killing curse itself. Whether it be his followers or his enemies. He didn’t have friends. The only thing that mattered to him was power. He thought he was a king, or a god. He wanted to rule. He lost sight of his true goals and ruined his own plans because of his inflated ego. But he was incredibly powerful even with his madness. And he was winning. That was, until a prophecy was made. And I was born. Fate sent me, your soulmate, to subdue you since you were killing off our own race like an idiot. Your killing curse bounced off me and you got yourself killed temporarily. Ten years he wandered and survived as a wraith, possessing animals and such. You tried to kill me in my first year by possessing my DADA teacher. Second year, you sent a basilisk after me. Third year, well you gathered some followers to help you. Fourth year, you resurrected yourself using some of my blood and dueled me but I got away. Fifth year, well you took over the ministry and was looking for the prophecy, but I smashed it to pieces and Dumbledore fought you off but you still tried to possess me. Didn’t let you though. Sixth year, Dumbles died and your spy took over Hogwarts. Seventh year I finally killed you.” Harry laughed. “The greatest and most feared Dark Lord was killed by a mere seventeen year old! Merlin, everyone has been worshipping the ground I walk on since I was an infant. And after that, they were all practically licking it. It was disgusting.”

“At seventeen…” Fenrir repeated with a whistle. He had always known Harry was powerful but…At seventeen, really? And to deflect the killing curse as an infact? That was unheard of.

“Why did you go back then? Why take me out of the orphanage? You’ve basically told me that I’ve been ruining your life before you could even walk! Why Harry!?” Tom asked desperately, aura flaring and reflecting the chaos he was feeling. 

“Well, yeah, you did. You killed my parents. I grew up with my relatives who were abusive and treated me worse than a dog. They kept me in a cupboard until my eleventh birthday. My cousin was a fat pig who made sure I had no friends in school and used me as his personal punching bag. And all the neighbors thought I was some delinquent because of my aunt and uncle spreading rumors while they starved me and treated me as their servant before I could even read. Then when I finally found a place to belong, there you were, a bodiless entity trying to kill me. It was an absolute nightmare!” Harry exclaimed exasperated. Tom had flinched hard at the list of things Harry had said, looking awful and more sickly every second. Just thinking about the all those things being done to Harry, to their Harry. Fenrir wanted to hunt them down and tear them apart limb from limb. His gaze flickered over to Tom’s shaking form, fury and misery blending in his icy blue orbs. To think that he was the cause of that…of Harry’s past abuse, Fenrir wondered just how despicable he felt inside.

“But you know…all that was nothing compared to how it was after you were gone. It was…it was bad,” Harry admitted, his voice, his expression looking hollow and so…Fenrir felt his chest tighten, pain spreading through him. Harry looked so…

Broken.

As if all those things that happened to him, all the things he listed down, didn’t hold a single candle to what he felt afterwards.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked quietly. Fenrir wasn’t surprised. Tom must have never seen Harry this way before either. Sure there were times when he looked like he was in a very different place, but this was the first time they’ve ever truly seen him in pain like this. And they were completely unable to help.

Harry gave them a small fragile smile. “It wasn’t so bad in the start. Even when I realized I was immortal, I still had my friends. But then they started dying, one by one. They all left me. I watched over their children growing up and having children of their own. And then I… time just kept going and going and I wanted mine to stop. I was tired. I hated waking up. Hated having to hear the same problems, the same stupid mistakes humans made over and over again…I just wanted to die. There was nothing in this world for me anyway. I wanted to die. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to be human again. Because even when I was breathing, I wasn’t living. I had one shot to die and I chose not to like a bloody fool. I should’ve let you take over the bloody world. I shouldn’t have let my hero complex get in the way. It wasn’t my responsibility anymore. The fate of the entire wizarding world can rot for all I care. They used me in any way they could for their own selfish gains and made the same decisions that doomed our race while they demanded I fix their problems for them. I abandoned them and hid under many different names and faces, watching over whoever remained my friends’ families. But even then, I just wanted it all to end. I had no reason, no purpose for existing except to hold some stupid title that renders me immortal. Even the memory of my friends and how they’d all probably disapprove of my condemning thoughts didn’t bother me. Because they didn’t know what it was like. They were happily at peace and away from the living.” Harry looked up at the ceiling, green eyes bright. “I searched for a way to die. But that ended up fruitless. So I searched for an anchor. And I found you.” He turned his eyes towards Tom. “I was so excited. I could live again. I cared. You and your cute distrustful eyes looking at the entire world as if they were your enemy,” Harry laughed, “I didn’t care if you wanted to take over the world. I decided to raise you and stay with you for my own selfish reasons. I wanted you to be happy because I want to be happy. Is that easy enough to understand for you Tom? Or does knowing the fact that I killed you make you fear me now?”  

Fenrir took a small step back, having so much difficulty handling the constant shift in the air. Harry was so unstable, so unpredictable. It made him want to ask why Harry took him in. He wasn’t connected to him in any way and he had a strong suspicion that the Fenrir Harry met was just as bad as Tom’s.

Harry’s eyes fixated on Tom’s pale face and trembling form, and Fenrir felt the strong protective urge to pull Tom behind him. And just as those thoughts appeared in his head, glowing green eyes slid to him, and Fenrir felt his body lock in fear. Why was Harry acting like this? What was he trying to do!?

He watched helplessly as Harry focused on Tom again, a cold smile on his lips. He reached out and didn’t pause even when Tom flinched. He cupped his cheek tenderly, but his smile remained terrifying. “You’re trembling,” he said softly, thumb caressing pale skin. “Do you hate me Tom? Do you think I deceived you?”

Fenrir held his breath. Tears streamed down Tom’s face and he watched the smile on Harry’s face crack just for the slightest bit and Fenrir belatedly realized that Harry was testing Tom. In a fucked up Harry-like way.

The silence stretched on and Harry withdrew his hand, face morphing to a disturbingly unreadable mask. “Should I take it that your silence means yes?” He laughed humorlessly, as if he expected it. As if he was used to it. And Fenrir wanted to tell him that there was no way Tom could hate him. Not after he had just explained how he turned an entire 180 on his views with the madman who relentlessly went after him all his life and decided to help him rule the world. If anything, Fenrir had long ago realized how sad and dark their lives would have been if Harry didn’t appear in their lives.

“So…what you’re trying to tell me,” Tom said shakily, “Is that you’ll kill me if I turn out the same way? Is that it?” Fenrir stared at Tom in disbelief, wondering why that was what the boy managed to extract out of everything.

Harry clicked his tongue. “Just a few moments ago, I thought we’ve established that you’re my other half.” He moved closer, pressing his forehead against Tom who didn’t shy away from him this time. “You’re important to me, my Tomcat. I came back for you because of selfish reasons. I wanted to feel alive. I wanted to be happy. And to do that I have to make you happy because that’s the only way to do it. I took you away from the orphanage not to stop you from becoming the madman from my time, I took you because I wanted to keep you with me. If you were honestly happy in that place, I’d have de-aged myself from the start and lived with you there. But that’s not how it was. Had I left you there, you’d have experienced the terrors of muggle wars. You’d have grown up hungry for recognition and power, with a superiority complex bigger than Hogwarts. You’d die a pitiful death, with nothing to your name but the hatred and terror you caused.  What you did to those Slytherins was foolish and absolutely childish. I’m not saying there was no justice that needed to be done, but if you’re going to torture and scare people, make sure they’re the right ones. Mistakes like that should not be made by someone who wants to rule. What you did and the way you reasoned out your actions to me, it was that of an ignorant child who doesn’t know what he’s doing and what brewing fear and hatred can be capable of.”

Tom glared at him but looked away in shame as much as their distance would allow him, looking very much like the scolded child he was at the moment. Fenrir was just so glad he wasn’t the one getting scolded. Harry had a talent for making you feel like such a huge disappointment.

“None of them will trust you. None of them will show you true respect. Only fear. And Tom, even if you know that I will kill anyone who tries to harm you, I hope you don’t abuse that power. I thought you came here to prove to me that you can stand on your own. Weren’t you supposed to take care of me? Look how sick and weak I am because of your mess?” Harry added lightly, using that unfair card to make Tom feel worse.

Tom’s lips trembled. And Fenrir tried not to laugh at the cruel way Harry liked to play the adult role. He’s done that to Fenrir before and he had him in tears, promising to be good. He had had a temper tantrum about lessons and manners, telling Harry that he’s a werewolf and he can very well do whatever the fuck he wanted. Harry had silenced him for his language and gave him a very brief lecture on werewolf treatment and the laws people were trying to push against his kind before he started making Fenrir see how much he cares about him and why he was teaching him whatever he was teaching him. Needless to say, Fenrir remembered feeling the foreign emotion of guilt and shame and that strong needed to prove himself to Harry and make it up to him. He knew Harry did it to manipulate him, it was pretty blatantly out there, but nothing he said were untrue which made it all the more effective.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said so quietly that Fenrir knew it was only for Harry’s ears, but his heightened senses let him pick it up. Harry placed both hands on wet cheeks, moving in to plant numerous kisses on the other boy who accepted the treatment pliantly. "I’ll always be here for you, love. Always. And that means when you make mistakes like what you just did, I’ll be here to make sure you understand how foolish you are. Get off your high horse and stop trying to lead when you don’t even know your subjects. I’ll really fall into a coma at this rate,” Harry joked mercilessly, making Tom pale once more. He shook his head and looked at Harry with both annoyance and an apology, that stubborn tilt in his chin still present. For such a young kid, he sure had a huge pride, Fenrir thought, though it was far from surprising.

“So you’re really not here to kill me?” Tom asked softly, eyes staring at Harry intensely.

“No. You’re too cute for me,” Harry laughed, ruffling his hair.

Tom didn’t seem to mind, shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “You’re mine?”

“Always.” Harry seemed to be taking advantage of this rare pliant Tom and lightly bit his nose, causing Tom to scrunch his face in disgust even though his cheeks were burning red. Fenrir held back a snicker. It was a cute scene, something he’s seen happen back home a lot whenever Tom allowed Harry to do whatever he wants. But then Fenrir wondered if it would still look cute when they were both older, taller, bigger. He frowned, a little uncomfortable at the image. Merlin, they’d probably be worse than a married couple. And Fenrir was going to be the unfortunate third wheel.

“I don’t…hate you,” Tom said after a while, looking away as if it pained him to admit feelings so openly. Fenrir wouldn’t be surprised if it literally shook his proud inner foundation to open up and be vulnerable.

Harry looked immensely relieved. “That’s…good. It would probably hurt more than a crucio if you did,” he said lightly, though he didn’t sound like he was exaggerating. And Tom seemed to know, eyes widening a fraction before shaking his head adamantly, propelling him forward into hugging Harry, making both Fenrir and Harry himself blink in shock as Tom buried his face against the crook of Harry’s neck. He seemed to be saying something to Harry, but even with Fenrir’s hearing, the words were too soft and muffled for him to decipher. Whatever it was though, Harry looked ecstatic, green eyes sparkling vibrantly as he eagerly wrapped his arms around Tom, practically tackling him. “It’s been so long since you initiated a hug!” he said happily while Tom looked resigned to his fate of being smothered by Harry and his giddiness.

Fenrir started laughing.

Harry glanced at him beaming, “Join the hug Fen!”

Tom looked disgusted and alarmed, “Don’t invite him!”

Fenrir spread his arms wide, a huge malicious grin on his face as he took several threatening steps towards them, making Harry’s smile grow bigger while Tom’s eyes spat venom at him, teeth bared which is something he actually subconsciously picked up from Fenrir himself.

“Why not Tom? We’re a family! Of course I should join the group hug!” Fenrir said as he hovered over them.

“Dogs don’t need to be involved in the family hug!” Tom spat.

“Ha! You admit that we’re still a family,” Fenrir smirked, crossing his arms smugly.

Tom bristled under Harry who suddenly stopped laughing. He sat up and looked at the two of them, a solemn expression on his face, making both Fenrir and Tom pause. “Harry?” Fenrir asked.

“If something happens, you two should promise me that you’ll protect each other,” he said seriously, green eyes sharp and firm.

“What are you…why are you saying that all of a sudden?” Fenrir asked while Tom stared at Harry with furrowed brows.

“Just promise me,” Harry said. “With how I am, I’m not as powerful as I was.” He held out a hand, clenching it. “My body is still a little far from being anywhere near able accommodate my magic. While it can’t kill me, it does exhaust me.” He crossed his arms. “It would worry me less if I knew you two had each other’s backs if I’m not around to help or protect you.”

Tom frowned. “I don’t need—“ Harry’s green eyes flashed at him, lips forming a thin line. It cut off whatever argument Fenrir also had with looking after Tom. “It’s just as you said Fenrir, we’re a family. None of us had ever experienced having a real one before but we already are one the moment I entered your lives and dragged you into my plans. We eat together and celebrate each other’s birthdays! Tell me that’s not family.”

“That’s only because you make us celebrate it,” Tom muttered. Harry pulled his cheek and continued on. “You’ll both have to look after each other or else I’m not telling you anything anymore.”

Fenrir sighed. “Yeah fine. It’s not like I would’ve let anything happen to Tom anyway. It’s just embarrassing to say it out loud Harbear.” He stretched back and stuck his tongue out at the ugly sneer on Tom’s face directed at him.

Harry pointedly turned to Tom then, waiting for his response. He glared at Harry and stuck out his chin haughtily, crossing his arms. “If that’ll please you,” he muttered.

“Okay, good,” Harry nodded, pleased. Dumbledore and his boyfriend were going to cause them problems soon, it was only a matter of time. He could feel it. He’ll probably give Tom and Fen their time turners earlier than he planned.

Harry saw Tom glancing at his blonde friend, eyes lost. “Harry,” the boy said softly.

Harry tilted his head in response, his attention fully on his soulmate.

“I…what do you think I should do? With what I just did… to my house?” Tom said, tone defeated and sounding every bit as young as he was. Even Fenrir held his tongue back, knowing how vulnerable and open Tom was letting himself be. Harry realized belatedly how much it had frightened Tom, seeing his first friend so close to death’s doors. He was still so young. And sometimes Harry forgot that. The boy looked so tired and at a loss.

“I don’t know Tom. I’ve never been one for ruling really. I’m usually the opposition to whoever’s in power,” he joked lightly, reaching out and touching Tom’s hand. “You need to take things step by step. There isn’t really a shortcut to true loyalty and power. You have to start from the bottom to know how rule from the top. It’s the most effective method from what I’ve seen in the long years I was cursed with.”

Tom let out a shaky breath, sagging against him. Fenrir scooted closer and even put an arm around them. Tom glared at him but there was no heat and he did not make a move to push him away.

“I…I guess I’ll…” Tom seemed to swallow with difficulty, “apologize…”

Fenrir looked shocked while Harry gave Tom a soft smile. “Can’t hurt to do so.”

“It already hurts,” Tom grumbled.

“Think about it this way, you’re just a step closer to taking over magical Britain if you do it,” Harry said cheerfully although he wasn’t sure if that was true.

Tom closed his eyes and buried his face in Harry’s hair with an angry huff.

~( ; _ ; )~

Okay, so hello, I’m alive. Unfortunately. Bad things happened with thesis and I had to redo shit and it was a mess of tears and coffee and just…yeah. It was awful. I’m a bit better now, although I’m still in that everpresent mood to pray never to wake up every time I go to sleep. But I’m fine. I think.

So yeah, I’ve rewritten this chapter so many times. I barely remember the little bits of my previous chapters so forgive me for making some overlapping statements or something. I’ve missed these three boys so much. Hopefully, I can have the next chapter up by next week. No promises, but yeah, you guys won’t have to wait months for the next one that’s for sure.

Sorry for the long wait. And I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Also thanks for all the love you guys continue to give this story, makes me feel all fluffy inside. Happy reading.