Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Azkaban had not been kind to Lucius Malfoy. With his Lord dead, and the final battle lost, Lucius had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban for his involvement in the war. No matter the testimony from the ‘boy-who-lived’, saving his wife and son from a similar fate, Lucius had not been so similarly spared.

Malfoy Manor was lost. Confiscated, the new ministry approved, for its act as a stronghold for the opposing side of the war. Their Gringotts vault was taken, repossessed by the goblins and ministry to refinance the rebuilding of Hogwarts— hundreds of years’ worth of Malfoy family relics simply gone, destroyed, or deemed unfit for the current world. Narcissa had been forced to move into an old apartment in Diagon Alley on whatever funds were available, and Draco’s engagement to Astoria Greengrass had been cancelled due to the unforeseen events that had smeared the Malfoy name through the mud.

No previous associates or confidants wanted any contact with a Malfoy, be they Lucius, Narcissa, or Draco.

And all the while, Lucius spent five years in that morbid prison, listening to the whispers of the dementors, sucking the life out of him and providing images of Lucius’s worst memories, his fears…

You will suffer…

Your family will suffer…

The Malfoy family is no more…

Narcissa visited him regularly in his cell over the course of the five years. She appeared so distraught; all Lucius could do to comfort her was to give her the possible names of any acquaintances or relatives they may be forced to rely on. The only thing that had sustained him enough not to entirely lose his sanity… was a message. Within his first year served, Narcissa delivered him a package from the Department of Mysteries, along with a note. From his late father.

It was the one thing that had saved his mind from falling into shambles.

It was also the thing that finally pushed him over the edge.

Son,

If you are reading this, times must be dire. My gift is a choice, one I had never envisioned would be needed. If you choose to open it, then I entrust you with this:

Make sure our family survives.

And that the Dark Lord wins.

Inside the box was a simple thing. A delicate, ornate necklace shaped in a form of a tiny hourglass.

It was a time-turner. A time-turner.

Lucius nearly laughed himself to death. His cellmates nearest to him thought he had finally cracked.

According to the note, it could be used only twice. For up to 100 years! Years! What an incredible device. He almost didn’t believe it, convinced it was some sort of trap to finally demolish his already fragile hope.  

But that was his father’s handwriting. And the magic seal on the package was most definitely from the Department.

And so, for the rest of Lucius’s time in Azkaban, he had kept the box hidden in his cell, deliberating the best usage for the time-turner.

It drove him half mad thinking of all the possibilities.

 Half the time, he was thinking of how to save his Lord and family.

And the other, he was thinking of revenge. Revenge on the boy-who-lived.

Harry Potter.

He thought back to the boy’s testimony in court. Potter had told the Wizengamot everything. Everything. The utter fool. Everything Dumbledore had known about the Dark Lord, from his early life in an orphanage called Wool’s, to horcruxes and the splitting of his soul. No more secrets were kept. Shockingly, the boy even told how he had survived the second killing curse, witnessed by many, and the rebounding of the third which had taken his Lord’s life.

He told such a strange tale, Lucius recalled. But sitting in his cell, with the distinct possibility to undo everything the Light had achieved, Lucius thought back to the one detail that was, perhaps, the most important.

Harry Potter had been a horcrux too.

Lucius schemed. He plotted in his cell, driving his mind up the wall with every little detail imaginable. He had only two times he could use the time-turner. It had to be perfect.

The obvious choice was to go back and kill Harry Potter as an infant. But the boy had been kept under the Fidelius charm in those early years, and the secret keeper, either Black or Pettigrew, would be impossible to get the secret from. Anytime after, in the boy’s muggle house, Lucius would be killing a piece of his Lord. And he was unlikely to get past the blood wards Dumbledore placed. He supposed he could go back and kill Lily Potter, ceasing the boy from ever being born…but with a prophecy connecting him to the Dark Lord…who was to say that another hero wouldn’t rise up in Harry Potter’s place?

The second obvious choice was to go into recent years. He could stop his Lord from ever going after the Potters in the first place, ceasing Harry Potter from being an unintentional Horcrux and stopping the prophecy.

But… his Lord had been severely unstable after making so many horcruxes, Lucius remembered it…he had been hellbent on destroying the Potter’s once he learned of the prophecy. His mind was not all there, and Lucius was not sure he would survive telling the Dark Lord a secret he may not want to hear. And besides… Lucius wanted the Malfoy family name not only to survive the war, but to thrive in it.

The next options were… not so obvious. And Lucius spent many nights planning it out in his mind. And he came up with two conclusions.

The first was that, unfortunately, Harry Potter had to live.

He could likely go back to the boy’s earlier years in Hogwarts and kidnap him, but the boy-who-lived had been under constant watch, not only in his muggle home, but in Hogwarts as well with Albus Dumbledore. Lucius did not like to admit it, but the blasted old fool was powerful. He would know if something was amiss. And Lucius had only two chances to rearrange history. He could not let anyone find out.

The second conclusion was this:

He needed to go back to a time when his Lord’s mind was stable. Possibly even before he had even made any horcruxes. Possibly even in his infancy.

Which led him to another conclusion. One he did not necessarily like, but saw little else available to change the outcome of the war.

What if he went back to the Dark Lord’s infancy? Raised him like he should have been raised? In a proper pureblood home, with likeminded witches and wizards to surround him with the knowledge he needed to take over the wizarding world in his future years?

And…he needed Harry Potter too. That much was certain. The boy could not be allowed to roam free. With the prophecy, and the horcrux inside him…

Thus, after five years in Azkaban, Lucius Malfoy had a plan. And after seven months free, living in squalor with Narcissa and Draco in a rundown apartment, having had to move into Knockturn Alley…he finally twisted the time-turner after saying his goodbyes, taking as many provisions as he could from the current time in a small trunk, and whatever books or necessities he needed. They had little gold, but Lucius had acquired proof of his lineage from a suspicious Gringotts goblin, which would hopefully allow him to live with the Malfoy family of the past. His very own grandfather. 

The plan was not foolproof. Lucius predicted he would need a few years to fully establish himself in the past. And there were many variables still unaccounted for.

But it was the best option, considering the circumstances.

“Be safe. Good luck.” Narcissa kissed him passionately before the time-turner took him away to October 31^st, 1981. The first turn. He would take Harry Potter off the doorstep of his aunt’s, before the blood wards had even taken place. The second turn…would leave him stranded in the late 1920’s.

Lucius did not know the theories of time-travelling. Whether the world he left would still exist after doing what he must, or if he was creating an entirely new world for his family to live in.

Lucius didn’t know.

But he would not return.  

Chapter Text

October 31^st, 1929

Tis a strange Halloween… Mrs. Cole thought as she watched the dark street outside of Wool’s orphanage.

The children had gone to bed after carving some turnips, and Martha the new caretaker was up watching little Tom, who hardly needed watching at all with how little he cried. But tonight, for some reason, the year and a half old babe had not wanted to go to sleep. He was up, staring at the door when Martha thought he was sleeping. He did not want anything to eat or drink, not that they had anything to give but a little milk, and he did not do anything but stare at the door. Almost like he was waiting for something to happen.

He’s a strange boy…Mrs. Cole knew that at once.

He wasn’t like any other baby Mrs. Cole had ever taken care of. He didn’t cry, didn’t play, didn’t do anything normal babies did. And strange things always happened around him too. It…unnerved her. Just like the boy’s deceased mother. The horrid thing. She had been so ugly. And then she had died, right in the hallway on New Years Eve, shortly after giving birth to little Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

What a strange middle name.

But no matter. Mrs. Cole was only thankful the boy did not take after his mother in looks. He didn’t think anyone would adopt him then. Thus far, he had dark locks and hauntingly blue eyes. He was a very handsome babe, if not for the unusual things that seemed to happen around him. Bottles breaking. His cloths changed without anyone knowing who did it. The windows opening and closing. His blanket ripped as though with a knife—

He’s a strange boy—

Crack!

Mrs. Cole jumped at the sudden sound. She peered out the window, looking to see what was the matter.

A man in a rich, strange looking coat was walking briskly up the walkway. And he was carrying a small bundle—

Oh, drat.

Mrs. Cole knew exactly what she was seeing. She had seen it a hundred times before. Another mouth to feed, that was for sure.

A knock on the door announced the stranger’s presence, and Mrs. Cole heaved a sigh before opening the door. As the man stepped inside, she took in his appearance. His hair was pale blonde, tied into a long tail. He looked sophisticated and rich, but his cheeks were hallowed out slightly, as though he’d fallen upon hard times.

The stranger promptly deposited the child into Mrs. Cole’s arms.  

His eyes were cold when he glanced at the small boy. A child who looked no older than a year, possibly even of similar age to Tom.

“D-Does he have a name, sir?” Mrs. Cole hesitatingly asked when the man turned his attention away, almost as though he was going to leave without even bidding the child goodbye.

After a long pause, he spoke.

“Harry.”

Then he pulled out the strangest thing. A necklace in the shape of a small hourglass was hanging around his neck. However, when Mrs. Cole looked closer, the hourglass looked broken and bent, the gold around it tarnished.

He tucked it back under his clothes after a short inspection.

Then he brought out something strange. A stick. And he pointed it in Mrs. Cole’s face. She felt herself grow slightly dizzy, with the feeling of pleasure washing away all of her worries. She could have basked in the feeling, until the man spoke next, and she knew with certainty that it was of the utmost importance.

“I’ll be back when the child named Tom Riddle turns five. I will be taking both children with me. Do not give them away, under any circumstances. Is that clear?”

Mrs. Cole felt herself answer as though from a great distance. Her eyes glazed over and she understood that this was her mission from now on. To make sure no one adopted the two children under her care.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

As he tucked the stick away, Mrs. Cole felt vaguely like herself again. Tom Riddle…was this man related, perhaps? Was he the boy’s father? Were these two siblings?

Half-siblings, perhaps, given their close ages. She pulled the child closer, who was sleeping in her arms.

He had messy black hair, and a strange looking scar shaped like lightning across his forehead. It was slightly bleeding, so she dabbed at it with the blanket he was wrapped in.

The man, seeing Mrs. Cole taking care of the child in her arms, abruptly turned on his heel and walked back out the door.

“Until next time, Mrs. Cole.”

She had only looked down for a moment, but when she looked again, the man was gone.

With a start, she realized she had never told him her name.

How strange….

Lucius had not wanted to leave. He did not want to leave both his Lord and the Potter boy in the hands of strangers, and especially not in the hands of muggle strangers. But Lucius did not have a lot of options. There were no wizarding orphanages in existence, and besides that, he needed to establish himself first before he took on any other responsibilities. He had little money, and he needed to contact his grandfather. He did not have the means to take care of two infants right now, and while roughly four years seemed a long time, Lucius felt he could handle the two boys once they aged a little.

It would be fine.

He apparated away, back to Diagon Alley, to search for the post office. He would write his grandfather a letter first. Detailing as much as he could until they could meet in person.

If one thought nagged at him, leaving both children in the muggle orphanage, it was the thought of what would happen in the meantime.

Somehow, Lucius couldn’t help but hate Harry Potter, no matter that the boy was just a child now—the boy was solely responsible for his Lord’s demise…for his current predicament right now as a poor man in need of his family resources. It boiled under his skin; it had eaten him alive during his years in Azkaban. A burning, searing, hatred.

Lucius had only the hope that his Lord would know how to deal with the Potter boy. If not….

But for now, Lucius would keep his secrets close. He would not tell his Lord anything until he was certain the future would play out as it must.

And then the Malfoy family would be praised beyond recognition for his role in ensuring the Dark Lord’s victory.

In hindsight, it was the perfect plan.

But fate did not deal him a perfect hand, no.  

Lucius realized this when, four years later, he picked up the two boys… unnaturally attached to each other.

Brothers.

Fate really did have a cruel sense of humor.

Chapter Text

While Tom was reading a book on the bed, Harry was drawing on the floor with a broken crayon he had found in a bin and a scrap of old newspaper. His nose scrunched up, trying to decide how to draw a perfect picture with words running all over the page.

“Tom.” Harry called out after deciding to just draw over the words. Tom would see the picture regardless of how it looked.

“Hm?” His brother didn’t look over, but neither did Harry.

“I think today’s the day.” Harry prophesized, for perhaps the hundredth time in the last three months. But he just knew it. The other days didn’t count. Mrs. Cole always said their father would come when Tom turned five, but that day had passed three months ago. Today was the day. He was sure—

Snap.

Tom closed his book with a sharp sound. Then Tom walked over, setting his book aside and sitting down beside Harry. Harry didn’t want Tom to see his picture just yet, but the other boy grabbed it before Harry could fully cover it with his arm.

“Hey! I’m not done—”

“Is that me?” Tom asked mildly, but Harry could see his lip twitching. Harry’s face burned.

“No! It’s not!” Harry made to grab the picture back, but Tom held it at a distance.

“Ah, I see. A snake is there too, beside me. That small squiggle, right?”

“Tom—!”

Seeing that Harry was nearly in tears, Tom placed the picture back in Harry’s hands with a scoff. Harry tried not to cry, hugging the newspaper close.

“It’s not done yet.” Harry whispered. It was such a silly argument, Harry knew that—but he didn’t know why his brother teased him so much.

“Don’t say that again, Harry.” Tom warned, but like all of Tom’s warnings, Harry barely paid any attention.

“Yeah, okay. But what if—”

“The man abandoned us, Harry. He’s not my father and he’s not yours either. Today is not the day. That day has passed.”

Sniffling, Harry resumed his drawing, but deep down, he just had a feeling.

The man would come.

Perhaps it was an ominous sign, but just like Harry predicted, the man did come. That very evening.  

At long last, their father had arrived to pick them up at the orphanage. When Mrs. Cole called them downstairs, Harry was naturally excited. His brother, on the other hand, was keeping his expressions carefully controlled. Harry knew Tom didn’t want to be disappointed. He had…expectations. For years, since Mrs. Cole first told them about the man, about potentially being their father, his brother had harbored expectations around what the man would be like. Would he be rich? Why had he abandoned them in an orphanage, then? Did he have powers, like they did too?

But when the man didn’t come exactly on Tom’s fifth birthday, those expectations had collapsed.

Now, his brother was keeping his feelings deep inside. Harry knew that Tom didn’t want to look vulnerable, just in case the man abandoned them again.

When Harry arrived in Mrs. Cole’s office, he was startled, at first.

In Harry’s opinion, the man looked nothing like either of them. He had straight, pale blonde hair, and a large pointed nose. He was tall, and when he looked them over, Harry noticed a subtle shift in the way he glanced at Harry, specifically. Like he was displeased with him already. He was wearing a rich looking suit, so Harry supposed at least one of Tom’s suspicions was correct.

But that wasn’t the strange thing. It was Mrs. Cole who looked the strangest. She had a glazed expression over her face. She hardly paid Harry and Tom any attention when they walked in, which was the opposite of what she normally did.

And when she spoke, it was as though she were reading a script.

“This, boys, is Lucius Malfoy. He's the one I told you about. He’s come to adopt you two. The papers have all been signed. Now go pack your things. He’s on a tight schedule.”

Harry glanced at Tom, uncertain about what was going on. Were adoptions normally this fast? Didn’t they have to talk to the man first?

Tom, however, remained level-headed. His eyes watched the two adults like a hawk, trying to discern if anything was amiss.

In the end, though, all Tom did was nod and pull Harry out of the room. He held Harry’s hand until they finally stopped at the top of the stairs, where some of the other orphans were whispering.

“Is it true? That man is your father?” Billy Stubbs, seven, sneered at them.

Billy Stubbs had been a thorn in Harry’s life for the past year, when he suddenly had a growth spurt and decided to take it out on the younger kids now that he was taller. Harry would be glad never to see the older boy again.

“Yes. Now move.” Tom said coldly, but he was already moving around him. Harry was too numb to do anything but be led back to their room.

 While Tom methodically started to pack his belongings, Harry finally found his voice again.

“What’s going on, Tom? Are we really leaving? Why did Mrs. Cole look like that? And aren’t you mad at—”

His brother threw a pillow in Harry’s face, and for once, Harry knew instinctively that his brother was mad. Madder than he’d ever been.

“Pack your things. Yes, we’re going. We’re leaving this place forever. Unless, of course, you want to stay behind?” Tom sneered the last question, as though he couldn’t think of a more disgusting choice.

Harry was nearly in tears, but he complied. He didn’t want to stay either. Not with the possibility of having an actual family.

Silently, Harry packed what little he had. In a cardboard box, he packed his orphan donated clothes, his worn shoes, and a rock he had found in the park that he thought looked neat. On top of it all, Harry packed his most precious belonging. Something not even Tom had—his original baby blanket, the blanket he had arrived in.

It was blue, and soft. It was dusty, however, having been tucked away under his bed since he was too big for it now.

When everything was packed, Tom took his box—a box Harry knew had stolen things from the other orphans—and they headed downstairs.

While the other orphans watched them go, Martha, the caretaker, waved a small goodbye, wishing them good luck.

When they arrived back at Mrs. Cole’s office, the man stood up from his seat and walked over to them. Harry’s mouth became dry when he looked up at the tall man.

The man regarded them for a moment. He grey eyes slid over from Harry to Tom, and while it was subtle, Harry noticed a sharpness in the man’s eyes as his gaze landed on Tom. Then the moment was gone, and Harry wondered if he had imagined it.

The man took one look at their belongings, and then did something strange. He pulled out a wooden stick and waved it. Their boxes immediately vanished from their hands. Tom and Harry both gaped; however, Mrs. Cole didn’t look remotely surprised. She was still sitting there, but now that Harry was looking more closely, she had a slight amount of drool coming out of her mouth.

“What did you—our stuff—” Tom shouted angrily, but the man—Lucius— held up a hand.

“Your things have been safely transported to the manor. And before you ask anymore questions, we must leave immediately. I shall explain everything once we have arrived.”

Harry could see Tom visibly shaking. He likely had a thousand questions, and yet Harry knew Tom didn’t want to push the man too harshly right now, in case he really did just leave them in the orphanage to rot.

This man had powers, like them? Surely this was a good sign, right? They must be related.

The man walked out of the door, ushering Tom and Harry along with a cane Harry had not seen until now.  

When they reached the end of the street outside, Harry looked back at Wool’s orphanage. The other children were watching them from the windows, waving goodbye. Harry didn’t think he’d miss the old building, nor the people, but he would miss Martha. She had taken care of Harry and Tom for a long time.  

 Harry didn’t see any car or carriage waiting for them, and wondered if they were walking to their new home. But before he could even think, the man pulled them both into an alleyway and grabbed both of their shoulders.

Tom shouted and tried to pull away, but before they could even blink, they were being pulled into a tightly wound tube, and Harry’s vision turned completely black.

But just as suddenly as it had started, the feeling stopped.

The man dropped his hand, and Harry and Tom fell hard on the grass in front of an immaculate-looking manor. They were both still heaving on the ground when the man walked slightly away and called out a strange name. Tippy.  

What was that?

Harry and Tom didn’t have time to think when a sudden sharp crack sounded throughout the area, and a small creature wearing a towel, with large eyes and pointy ears, appeared out of nowhere.

“What can Tippy be doing for Master?” the creature said.

Tom had gone silent, watching the man tell the creature to bring tea to the living room. Then the creature vanished away again, and Harry was aghast. He couldn’t hold back his questions anymore.

“What was that? Who was that? Where are we? Why did—”

“Quiet, boy. Hold your tongue.” Lucius sneered down at him. Harry couldn’t hold back the small flinch at his harsh tone.

“Now, then. Come along. We need to have a long talk about the world. And then dinner. Afterwards, we’ll sort out your rooms.”

Harry looked at Tom as Lucius started to walk up the pathway to the large manor. It was easily bigger than the entire orphanage. There was a small garden in the front, and the backyard was near the woods. They appeared to be in the countryside. There was even a lake, which Harry spotted as he walked behind the man.

Tom wasn’t returning his gaze, which meant his brother was likely wound up. They had absorbed so many different things in the span of five minutes, it was hard to keep up. If it was shocking to Harry, then he could only imagine the thoughts running through his brother’s head.

Looking up at the tall manor, Harry wondered how their lives would change. Would it be for the better? Surely anything was better than Wool’s.

Without thinking, Harry took Tom’s hand and squeezed.

It wasn’t much, but it was all Harry could do to offer some comfort. In a new home they knew nothing about, with a man they knew nothing about. He was scared.

It wasn’t much. And Harry fully expected Tom to shove him away. 

Still.

Harry felt a little better when Tom didn’t let go, and squeezed back.

Chapter Text

When Harry walked into the manor for the very first time, he thought he was walking into another world.

Rich carpets and rugs lined the floors, and tapestries and portraits of men and women with blonde hair hung off the walls. Harry could have sworn their eyes followed them as they walked away from the foyer and down the hall.

When they reached a living room area, with soft green couches and mahogany tables, with wide, open windows, the tea was, apparently, already there and waiting. However, Harry noticed the little creature—Tippy, he was called—was no where in sight.

Lucius directed both Harry and Tom towards the couches. Only when they sat down, did the man settle down on the couch opposite of them. He set his cane aside, and stared at the two of them.

He stared at them for so long that Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable. He even almost let go of Tom’s hand when the man’s eyes narrowed, but Tom refused to let go.

Then Lucius sighed, muttered something about fates, but Harry didn’t really hear him. When he spoke next, it was in a measured tone, as though not to scare Harry and Tom away.

“We’ll start by having some tea. Then, you may proceed to ask any questions you have. I will answer as best as I am able to.”

Harry watched as Lucius poured them both a full teacup, and then took a sip of his own.

Tom let go of Harry’s hand, and he took a cup off the table. And sniffed.

“What’s in it?” Tom asked the question directly, and Harry realized he was talking about more than just tea. Harry looked up to see Lucius’s expression turn… uncomfortable, but with a hint of smugness. As though Tom had passed some test Harry wasn’t aware of.  

“A small amount of calming draught. Nothing more. A calming draught is a potion to help ease anxiety and manufacture calm. If you don’t wish to take it, that is fine.”

“We’re fine then.” Tom said snidely, putting the cup down on the table with a cold expression.

When Lucius realized neither of them would take the tea, he sighed, and took out that strange stick again, and this time, made the entire tea set disappear.

 “Then we’ll stick with questions only.”

“Are you really our father?” Tom asked immediately. He was ignoring the questions about the blatant displays of power, the teleportation to the manor, the strange creature that had brought them tea, or the stick thing in his hand—but Harry realized this was also the question he wanted to know the most too.

Perhaps it was an expected question…but with an unexpected answer. It shattered every notion that Harry and Tom had ever had in their small lives. 

“No. I am not.” Lucius said simply, as though he hadn’t just crushed Harry’s entire life, “Mrs. Cole, I assume, made the assumption based on observances, nothing more. But I am not your father. And you two are not brothers.”

Tom reacted first. He sprang up in his seat, shouting for the first time since being brought here.

“Then why are we here? Who are you?”

Harry noticed the way Tom’s power shook the room. A glass vase collapsed to the ground, smashing into a thousand pieces. A window cracked, and a part of the couch, dangerously close to Lucius, ripped in half.

The man, however, remained stoic through it all.

“Because…you two are wizards. And as such, you should be raised properly.”

Tom’s power collapsed as he sank back into the couch. Harry noticed, however small, the tightness around Lucius’s face as he said this. As though there was more to that explanation than he was letting on.

If Tom noticed it too, he didn’t say anything.

“Wizards? Sir?” Tom was trying to act polite now, acting as though he hadn’t just torn the room apart. Harry almost snorted.

Lucius, however, smiled indulgingly.

“Yes…Tom. Wizards. There is magic in this world…and you, specifically, hold a great abundance of it.”

“Is that what that stick was, sir? Magic?” Tom asked again, preening under the praise.  

“Yes, Tom. This is what wizards call a wand. It harnesses the magic in you. A wand makes it easier to cast spells.”

“Why can we do it without it then, sir? Tom can make things float, and I can—”

Harry stopped talking when Lucius gave him a cold, searing look.

And when he spoke, it was with a sneering tone that made Harry flinch at the unexpected frostiness towards him.

“That is called accidental magic. It is magic a child uses before acquiring a wand. I suspect Tom can use it naturally, however, most children never learn to harness its power.”

Harry knew Lucius was implying he could never learn to harness it either. Not like his brother—well…they weren’t really brothers anymore….

Harry nearly burst into tears, but instead he stared silently at his shoes.

For the next hour.

Tom kept asking questions, and Lucius answered him with a warming smile. At some point, Harry had tuned them out. He didn’t care anymore. Lucius hated him, for some reason. Tom wasn’t his brother anymore. What was the point in learning about magic when everything Harry had ever cared about wasn’t real anymore?

“Harry…Harry!”

Harry jumped at the sound of his name. Lucius was gone from his seat, and Tom was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

Harry avoided his gaze, but Tom was always the more perceptive one.

“You’re upset.”

Harry was almost angry enough to shout. Of course he was upset! How could Tom not be? They weren’t even related anymore!

“We’re still brothers, Harry, if that’s what you’re concerned about. It doesn’t matter what that man says—you’re still mine. And you’re the younger one.”

“What? No! It’s obvious I’m the older—” Harry crossed his arms, before realizing what Tom had actually said.

Harry was trying to ignore the way his heart soared when Tom said they were still brothers.

Sniffing, Harry whispered, “Why does he hate me, Tom? Did you see?”

“I saw. I’ll find out more. For now, though, we have to play nice.”

Harry and Tom sat in silence for a moment before a loud pop sounded throughout the area.

Tippy the creature was back. However, Lucius was still gone.

“Tippy be taking you two to dinner. But first Master wants you to change into proper wizards’ clothes. And bath. If you will follow me, please.”

Tom immediately went to follow, while Harry followed behind Tom, taking a moment to process the strangeness of it all. If Tom had asked Lucius what the creature was, Harry had not heard it.

The thing was tiny, compared to an adult. To Harry and Tom, though, the creature was only slightly shorter than they were. It wore a tea-towel, and had the largest ears Harry had ever seen.

It also had the most peculiar way of speaking.

Harry decided all at once that he rather liked the little creature. Even if it was a servant of Lucius’s, that didn’t matter. The little creature had been the fairest to Harry, treating him with the same politeness as Tom and Lucius. 

“Here’s be the bathroom, young masters. Master is waiting for you to finish. Your new clothes are waiting inside. Master be sorting out your rooms after dinner.”

“Thank you Tippy.” Harry said to the creature. Tom shot him a strange look, but didn’t say anything else.

Opening the door exposed the largest, cleanest, most exquisite bathroom Harry had ever stepped foot in.

Harry gaped at the large tub in the middle of the floor. It was even more luxurious than the rooms outside it—if this was merely a bathroom, what did the rest of the manor look like?

After gawking for a full minute, where Tom’s gaze devoured everything in sight, the two made quick work of their bath. Harry and Tom were used to taking shared baths at Wool’s, and although this tub was a little big, they both bathed and quickly used whatever soap was available.

Dressing, however, was a slight nightmare. It almost looked like the man was wanting them to wear dresses with how long the garments were. Was this normal for wizarding clothes?

“What’s this, Tom?” Harry asked for the umpteenth time, holding out a piece of fabric. He couldn’t tell what the ties were for, but assumed it was some sort of coat.

When Harry looked over, he realized Tom was also struggling.

“I think we need the house-elf. Call it, Harry. It’ll come.”

“The what?”

Tom gave him an exasperated look, bordering on angry.

“Weren’t you listening to anything the man said? Tippy! We need help!”

Pop!

Harry jumped at the unexpected pop, announcing the arrival of Tippy.

Harry’s arm was stuck in his shirt, and Tom was struggling with the straps on his belt. However, Tippy simply snapped their fingers, and all of their clothes suddenly rightened themselves out. With another snap, Harry and Tom’s wet hair also dried instantly.

“Wow, thanks Tippy!” Harry smiled at the—house-elf? —and it beamed back with a few tears.

Tom scowled, and demanded the little elf show them where dinner was. Harry internally sighed. Tom was sometimes like this with the other orphans too. He was easily jealous whenever Harry interacted with anyone else.  

Although this time, there was no other children. Only a house-elf.

Harry wondered what the problem was.

At dinner—a meal worthy of a king, surely—Harry and Tom both got a lesson on proper table manners. Mrs. Cole had never bothered, although apparently, in the wizarding world, if you didn’t display proper eating techniques, others around you would know you were not of wizarding origin. Harry didn’t understand what this meant—weren’t all wizards and witches the same? But he didn’t ask. Harry had the feeling that Lucius was only accommodating him because of Tom.

He wondered why the man had adopted him in the first place.

Tom, however, was soaking up the information like a sponge. He was already trying his best to please Lucius, while Harry had mostly given up hope of figuring out which spoon to use next. Lucius didn’t seem to care whether Harry learned it or not.

When dinner finally finished—Harry was so stuffed, he could hardly believe it was possible to be so full—Lucius led them up the stairs to the second floor of the manor. He was leading them to their room.

Room. Or…rooms?

He had a sudden fear, then, as Lucius led them through the highly decorated hallways.

Harry and Tom had always shared a room at Wool’s. They sometimes even shared a bed. What if…what if the man split them up? What would Harry do if he had his usual nightmares?

Harry stopped dead in the hallway. Tom turned to look at him questioningly, and in turn, Lucius stopped as well.

“What, boy? Speak up if there is a problem.” Lucius said with a hint of malice in his voice.

Harry was scared of speaking his mind around the man, but his fear of sleeping alone was suddenly so pronounced, he didn’t seem to care.

“W-Will we…be having separate rooms? Sir?”

Tom looked thoughtful, as though this hadn’t occurred to him either. They both looked over at Lucius, whose face was pale and tight.

“Yes. It is only proper. We have more than enough space. Tom’s room will be in the west wing, while Harry’s will be—”

“No.” Tom said suddenly, causing Lucius to look at him sharply.

“No…?”

“I don’t want separate rooms. We’ll share.” Tom said, and for the first time, he was openly defying their new guardian. Harry knew this was not just Tom’s way of getting what he wanted. It was also a test. To see how far he could push the man before he got angry.

Tom stood deathly still, as though waiting for Lucius to get mad and cast them outside.

Lucius, however, looked conflicted. He didn’t look angry. Or upset. But rather like this was not how he thought this conversation would go.

After a minute of staring only at Tom, barely even acknowledging Harry, Lucius finally relented with a stiff sigh.

“As you wish.”

He resumed walking down the hall.

Only when Harry thought Lucius was far away enough not to be heard, he whispered to his brother.

“Thanks, Tom.”

Tom looked over… and smirked.

Harry groaned, knowing, based only on his smile, that his brother would want a favour in return for this.

Even though Harry knew Tom wanted to share a room too.

It was unfair, but like all unfair things regarding his brother, Harry had long since learned to accept it.

Lucius was conflicted. And more than a little apprehensive. As he led the two children to their rooms—now room, as his Lord had insisted—Lucius was unsure of what to do.

The boys were far too close. He had not really anticipated that the two oddly different boys would grow close when he had dropped Harry Potter at Wool’s. He had not anticipated Mrs. Cole to pronounce them as ‘brothers’ either. What a fool he had been—

Potter was merely good for ensuring his Lord’s immortality and making sure the prophecy never came to fruition—perhaps if he set the boys apart now, they would grow apart too. Had Tom doing one thing, and Potter another.

But the way his young Lord had looked at him when asking to share a room…it was more than asking. It was demanding. Lucius could already see the way the boy would grow if he continued to give in to him.

Draco had been like that once. Demanding things from him and Narcissa.

But this boy was not Draco, nor was he an ordinary boy.

Lucius would have to fine-line when to give in and when to put his foot down.

For one thing, though, Lucius could not have his Lord being close to Potter.

If push came to shove, Lucius would put his foot down now, rather than when the boy actually gained some power in his teenage years.

 It would be difficult. Maybe Lucius would even have to deal with tantrums.

He didn’t know.

But he would not be stopped.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry woke up exhausted. He had gotten little sleep, as he’d had the same nightmare that had plagued him since as far back as he could remember. It was good Tom had persuaded the man into letting them share a room—although Lucius made two beds with his wand, splitting the bigger bed in half (Harry was still amazed at what magic could do), Harry had snuck into Tom’s bed in the middle of the night, like he typically did at Wool’s. His nightmares had come back with a vengeance, possibly triggered by their new surroundings and Lucius’s coldness.

Now, with the morning light filtering in through the windows, Harry got a much better look at the room they were given late last night. Large windows, two twin beds, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and a door leading into a separate bathroom. The room’s furniture was lavishly decorated too. Harry noticed the bed he was sleeping on had tiny engravings carved into the wood. 

Tom was already up and walking around the room. He was opening the doors of the wardrobe, looking into the drawers on the bedside table, and peeking into the bathroom, running his finger, it seemed, over every inch of the counters.   

“What’re you doing?” Harry mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Instead of answering, Tom waved his hand to be quiet. Once he was done with his inspection, Tom turned to the door leading out into the hallway. He leaned against it, putting his ear against the wood.

Now Harry really was curious.

Harry was just about to ask him again when that same popping sound echoed throughout the room. Tom jumped away from the door, scowling as Tippy appeared.

Harry, however, was excited to see the little elf. He liked the creature already.  

“Tippy!” Harry jumped off the bed, wide awake, “How are you? Did you have a good sleep?”

Tom shot him an annoyed look, but Harry didn’t care. Tippy blinked up at him, tilting his head, but then smiled brightly with tears in his eyes.

“Tippy is sleeping very well, sir, thank you! Tippy has been told to help young masters getting dressed before breakfast. Later, you is going shopping with Master for new things.”

That reminded Harry of something. Something vitally important. His and Tom’s things from Wool’s that Lucius had vanished—no, transported—back to the manor.

Harry didn’t particularly care about his orphan clothes and shoes—if they were getting new things, then surely it didn’t matter much. But he did care about his old and worn baby blanket.

“Tippy—” Harry started to ask, but Tom interrupted him, looking down at the elf with contempt.

“We can dress ourselves.” Tom said in a cold tone, “Just bring us our clothes and then leave.”

Tippy bowed low.

“As young master wishes. Please call Tippy if you is needing any help.” With a snap of the elf’s fingers, two piles of clothes appeared on the bed, then Tippy vanished before Harry could even wave goodbye. 

Harry was devastated. And not merely for the treatment of his new friend.

“Tom! I was going to ask about our stuff from Wool’s. Don’t you want your things?”

Tom didn’t look like he particularly cared.

“Well, if our new guardian is getting us new things, why do we need our old stuff?” He scoffed. Harry frowned.

Well, that was true. But still… Harry wanted his box for his blanket. But he couldn’t say this to Tom—he didn’t want to remind Tom of his baby blanket; Tom was horrendously jealous of it. It was the one thing he had that Tom didn’t: a connection to his family, somewhere outside of Wool’s. One time, Tom even threatened to burn it because Harry was always so protective of it. Harry had hidden it from him after that, only taking it out when Tom wasn’t there.   

Tom walked over to the two sets of clothes, casually starting to put them on. Harry was amazed Tom had remembered how to put on all the strange garments. Only yesterday he had been struggling too.

When Harry started to get dressed, however, his was a different story. He was fighting with the buttons again for a full minute before Tom finally took pity on him.

“Here,” Tom came over and took the buttons from his hands. He was smirking, though, and Harry’s thankful expression turned into one of outrage.

“I’m not a baby Tom! I can do it…” Harry whined, but let Tom do up the buttons anyway.

Tom tutted with a smile, obviously enjoying Harry’s torment.

“No you can’t, otherwise you would’ve done it already.”

Once he was done, Harry shoved him away and put on his coat—cloak, Tom corrected him—and together, now fully dressed for the day, they headed towards the door.  

They made it as far as the end of the hallway before they realized they had no idea where to go.

Pop!

Harry jumped as Tippy came back again. Tom was looking like he was going to strangle the little elf.

“Tippy be leading young master’s to breakfast now. Come this way, sirs.”

As the elf started to walk away, Harry noticed Tom’s eyes narrow at Tippy. He briefly nudged Harry along, and didn’t look at him again until they were taken to the same large dining area they had eaten in yesterday. He gave Harry a look, as though to be on his best behavior. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I know.” He whispered, although Harry rather thought he didn’t have to do anything and Lucius would still find fault with him. 

Which turned out to be exactly true.

Yet what Harry couldn’t understand, though, was the level of Lucius’s dislike. He learned it quickly enough though, during breakfast, in a way he hadn’t fully comprehended yesterday, when the man was still unfamiliar and the magic the man displayed still raw.  

Lucius didn’t just have a casual disregard for him.

He was sure of it now.

In the way his eyes burned into Harry’s very being whenever he looked at him. His sneer. His sharp tongue whenever Harry so much as breathed.

No, Lucius didn’t just dislike Harry.

He hated him.    

“Come along boys. We have much to do today.”

Harry scrambled after the man as he walked down the corridors of the manor. Harry and Tom had barely spoken after breakfast, in which Harry had eaten his meal rather morosely while Tom asked the man polite, carefully worded questions.

Harry had barely paid any attention yet again, because whenever he opened his mouth to voice something, Lucius scolded him. Harshly.

So, Harry kept quiet.

Now, after a hearty breakfast that both he and Tom were still unused to, Harry was following along behind Lucius and Tom as they walked down the hallway. Tom was still shooting the man the occasional questions, and Lucius indulged him in a pleasant way. It made Harry’s heart hurt that their new guardian hated him so much.

Why adopt Harry, then? Why not just take Tom?

Although, even those questions hurt him to think about. He didn’t want to be separated from his brother….

They arrived in a large, expansive room with two fireplaces on either end, each lit with a burning fire. Harry wondered what on earth they were going to do now, when Lucius threw some powder into the flames, and it turned a bright green.  

Lucius turned around to watch their startled expressions.

“This is called the Floo network. It is the magical world’s way of travelling through fireplaces,” Lucius spoke quietly, giving them a small lecture, “You experienced apparation yesterday, as I had little choice in bringing you here from the muggle world; however, seeing as it typically has adverse reactions on young children, it is more appropriate to use the Floo. You simply take a pinch of powder—like so—and toss it into the flames. When the fire turns green, it is safe to enter. Then you may shout the name of wherever you want to go, and you will travel through the network of fireplaces to arrive at your destination.”

Lucius held out the pot of powder. Harry was merely bewildered by all the casual references to things he didn’t understand yet. Apparation? Muggle world? Maybe Lucius had already explained it when Harry wasn’t listening.

“Today, we are travelling to a place called Diagon Alley. However, since both of you have never travelled like this before, I will be taking each of you in turns. Tom first.”

Of course, Harry thought bitterly. He stood back as Lucius allowed Tom to take a pinch of the powder and toss it into the fire. It turned an even brighter green.

“Very good.” Lucius praised Tom, who smiled widely up at the man—Harry knew at once that it was fake. Then he steered him into the fire. Tom looked back to him once they were standing safely in the flames. He looked scared, Harry rather thought, to be travelling to someplace unknown. Harry tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“Do not move from where you are, boy,” Lucius addressed Harry at last, looking down his nose at him, as though Harry was about to run the moment he looked away.

“I will be back in a moment. Diagon Alley!” He shouted the last bit, and in a rush of green flame, both he and Tom were gone.

“Wow.” Harry marvelled, then started to feel nervous about his own upcoming trip through the fireplace. Would it hurt? Would he burn in the flames? Would it be slow, fast?

Whoosh!

Lucius was indeed back in less than a minute.

Instead of allowing Harry to throw the powder in too, like he had with Tom, Lucius simply grabbed Harry by the arm, tossed the powder in himself, and shouted the name once more.

Harry had the distinct feeling that he was flying through a great tunnel. He thought he saw glimpses of people in living rooms before suddenly, he was deposited in a very dark looking pub. Stepping out of the fireplace, he coughed at the amount of soot clinging to him, while Tom waiting by one of the tables.

Tom looked worried, but relaxed when he finally saw Harry again. Lucius walked away the moment they were on the ground again, and then with a nod to the barman, guided them through a small backdoor and into a dirty looking alleyway.

With no exit.

Harry was just about to ask, even despite the consequences, when Lucius tapped his wand against the tiled wall in a distinct pattern.

Harry and Tom both gaped when the wall started to collapse—no, it was moving, revealing a large gateway—

“This, boys, is Diagon Alley. London’s most well-known magical shopping district.”

Lucius allowed them a small pause to absorb the scene—everywhere Harry looked, there was something spectacular happening. Magic was everywhere…and Harry couldn’t get enough of it.

“Follow me, and don’t dawdle,” Lucius told them sharply before he took off at a brisk pace.

Tom immediately followed, but Harry was moving much slower. When he kept stopping at random times to take in the magical sights around him, Tom looked borderline angry and grabbed his hand.

“Tom! Look!” Harry whispered to him, excited, “There’s owls in there!”

They had just passed what was seemingly a pet store. Why in the world would anyone want an owl as a pet?

Tom, however, was looking straight ahead at Lucius’s back, jaw clenched. There was a small frown on his face as he attempted to concentrate, but it seemed even his brother was struggling not to take in the magical sights before them. Harry had no problem pointing them all out to Tom.  

“There’s a bookstore Tom! It looks big. Oh, and that store is selling broomsticks…something called Quidditch—whatever that is. There’s an ice-cream store too! And—”

Lucius stopped walking, and Tom just about ran into his back at the sudden stop. Harry looked up at the imposing white building in front of them, one that seemed to stretch out into the sky.

“Gringotts.” Lucius proclaimed loudly, then started up the great white steps, only once turning back to see if they were following.

“Come on, Harry.” Tom whispered apprehensively.

Gringotts? What on earth was that?