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Chapter Text

“What the bloody hell did you do to yourself, Potter?”

Harry lifted his head.

Draco Malfoy was standing in the open doorway to Harry’s compartment. For some unfathomable reason the blonde boy felt the compelling need to check in on Harry after the summer holiday for some odd reason. The two of them weren’t even friends more acquaintances really. Being in the same house meant they spent a lot of time with one another.  

“Hello, Malfoy how are you? Did you have a nice summer? And why yes, I had a lovely summer, thank you so much for asking,” Harry drawled, reluctantly closing the book he’d been reading to give the other Slytherins his attention.

Zabini snorted in the background, and Malfoy shot the other boy a dark look. Goyle just stared blankly into the compartment, and Crabbe picked a piece of lint from his robes sniffing it before letting it fall to the floor. It was nice to see some things never changed.

“Yes, yes it was nice. Now what did you do to yourself?” Malfoy demanded, his pale gray eyes raking over Harry’s tall, lean frame.

To Harry’s annoyance the blonde boy actually took a step in to the compartment.

“I haven’t done anything to myself. I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Harry did have a clue about what Malfoy was talking about but he did so enjoy working the blonde Slytherin up.

“You’ve done something to your hair! And you look…” Malfoy trailed off, pale features flushing a dark red.

“Look what? And if you really must know, Malfoy. I got a decent haircut over the summer hols, and I’m not wearing my glasses anymore but I’m pretty sure you could make that out for yourself,” Harry smirked.

Over the summer Harry had finally taken the plunge and corrected his eyesight. Theo had told him during his first year about the potion to correct his eyesight after the third time Harry needed to Reparothem. However, Harry hadn’t wanted to do it. All of the pictures he’d seen of his dad, James Potter had been wearing glasses. Wearing his glasses had made Harry feel closer to the father he’d never gotten the chance to remember.

After five years Harry finally decided enough was enough. The glasses were more of a hindrance than a reminder of his dad. Harry had pictures of James Potter now. He had Remus and Sirius to tell him about his parents. So he ordered the potion, and within a week he no longer needed the large, thick glasses he used to hide himself behind.

Between his long wild tangle of black curls, and the large round spectacles Harry could effectively shield himself. It was a barrier between himself and the world around him.

Harry took things a step further and decided he’d done enough shielding himself from the world. For the first time since his aunt had given him an awful haircut as a child he got it cut, by an actual professional.  

Harry didn’t think the simple changes would be a big deal, however, Malfoy’s, and even Zabini’s, expression said differently. Harry hadn’t thought he looked that different but then he did routinely see himself without glasses and with his hair pulled back when others hadn’t. He supposed his long curls, and large thick glasses had done a pretty decent job hiding the top half of his face from people over the past five years.

Several long moments passed. Malfoy was still staring intently at him.

“Er, right, so do you need anything else? Because the staring is getting a little creepy now,” Harry arched an eyebrow at the blonde boy.

Malfoy flushed a brighter red, Harry hadn’t thought it possible, and finally tore his gaze away from Harry’s face.

“No, I think we’re all set, thanks. You made a good decision, Potter,” Zabini smirked and winked.

“Thanks, Zabini, I treasure your opinions about my appearance,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get back to my reading now.”

Harry dismissed the gawking Malfoy, and returned his attention to his book on spell crafting. 

The Slytherins’ quickly retreated from Harry’s compartment after that. Harry was once more left on his own just like preferred.

The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts passed uneventfully. Harry was able to make great headway in the spell crafting text he’d stumbled upon in Knockturn Alley when buying his school supplies. The text was old and missing the binding, and several pages, which is why Harry had gotten such a good deal on it.

His fingers twitched with the urge to put the mechanics outlined in the book in to practice.

“Where were you?”

Harry glanced up.

Hermione Granger’s arms were crossed, and annoyance crinkled her brow.

“Reading,” Harry offered, knowing quite well the Gryffindor wouldn’t be able to resist a good book.

Hermione and he had become friends during their first year. Harry was an outcast in Slytherin for having Gryffindor parents and being a muggle raised Half-Blood. Hermione had been a know-it-all Gryffindor. The two of them formed a bond during their long hours in the library together.

However, they weren’t as close as they might have been. Things changed on Halloween of their first year. An incident with a troll saw Hermione become fast friends with Weasley and Longbottom. She didn’t shun Harry once she became friends with them. In fact she’d tried to get all four of them to be friends. But Longbottom and Weasley hadn’t exactly been interested in being friends with a snake. Harry likewise hadn’t been enthused about being friends with them. He didn’t hate them or anything they just weren’t Harry’s cup of tea. The other boys didn’t take their studies seriously, and Harry had been determined to prove himself to his fellow Slytherins since he was an outcast amongst their ranks.

Weasley, Longbottom, and Harry tolerated one another for Hermione’s sake but they never spent time together without her around. As the years passed they stopped spending any time together even if Hermione was present. Hermione eventually learned to spend time with them separately.

“Oh, what are you reading?” as anticipated Hermione was instantly distracted.

They discussed the text for several long moments, and just as predicted the conversation about complex spell crafting put the bushy haired girl at ease.

“What was it you needed again?” Harry asked innocently, once he was sure the girl was no longer angry.

“You missed the tea with the new professor,” Hermione huffed, she was too busy leafing through Harry’s book to truly be angry with him anymore.

“Oh, that, how was it? What is Professor Slughorn like?” Harry had received an invitation to a small get together with Professor Slughorn during the train ride. Harry truly had meant to go for curiosity’s sake but he seemed to have gotten too wrapped up in his book. However, he wasn’t too disappointed that he’d missed it either.

“He’s interesting, knowledgeable, and very well connected. He’s a collector I suppose, a collector of people that is. He invited only students with high connections in the Ministry or with high rankings in class. The entire time he spoke about all of the famous witches and wizards he’s taught, and the things they send him. Apparently he does these little dinners monthly. The Slug Club he called it,” Hermione explained.

“The Slug Club. Are you going to join?”

“I believe so, yes. He invites former students to these dinners, and it would be a great opportunity for me to get a good internship in the Ministry once we graduate,” Hermione nodded.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll go once, see what it’s like.”

“Yes, you should. You’re the only one who can somewhat keep Malfoy’s ego in check,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone is up to that particular task.”

Hermione snorted. “He looks up to you.”

It was Harry’s turn to snort. “Malfoy? Look up to me?”

“Yes, you’re the first in our year. No matter how much I try to beat you. You’re always the first to perform a spell in class,” Hermione scowled, but her eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Which I have to thank you for. Our rivalry has helped push me,” Harry’s words were entirely truthful. His and Hermione’s good-natured rivalry had pushed Harry to go above and beyond. Hermione was the first person he’d ever met who actually challenged his own natural intelligence. Of course Harry far surpassed her when it came to magical power. Not that Harry had entirely revealed the true depth of his power just yet.

“I don’t know how you’ve never noticed that Malfoy is always trying to impress you,” Hermione added.

“Huh, is that what all the bragging is about?” Harry hummed thoughtfully.

“I believe so. But enough about Malfoy. How was your summer?” Hermione questioned, her fingers were restless.

“Tolerable,” Harry answered neutrally.

The Dursleys and he had long come to an understanding. They left Harry alone, he left them alone. Harry had learned about the Knight Bus during his first year, and he’d been using it to bring him to Diagon Alley during the summers ever since. He spent most of his days there wandering the alley, and shops, reading and learning everything he could.

“What about yours?” Harry asked politely. Was Hermione nervous about something?

“It was nice. I actually spent it with your godfather,” Hermione whispered the last part.

Harry had only met Sirius Black in person twice considering he was a wanted mass murderer and all. The first time had been at the end of his third year. In the middle of the night Dumbledore had come to fetch him. The headmaster had brought him to meet Sirius Black at Sirius’s request before he had to go in to hiding.

The prisoner of Azkaban had been believed to escape to finish his master’s work, and kill the Boy Who Lived, Neville Longbottom. But this was far from the truth. No instead he’d escaped to protect Harry from the man who had truly been responsible for his parents’ deaths: Peter Pettigrew. The cowardly wizard had been masquerading as Ron Weasley’s pet rat. Sirius was innocent. It had been Peter Pettigrew who revealed the Potters’ location to the Lestranges.

Sirius had nearly had Pettigrew but Professor Lupin who turned out to be a werewolf had attacked Hermione, Weasley, and Longbottom. Unfortunately, in the pandemonium Pettigrew had gotten away, and therefore Sirius could not be fully pardoned by the Ministry. Harry’s godfather had to go in to hiding but he promised to stay in touch, which he did.

They exchanged letters frequently. Sirius had great stories to share about Harry’s parents, and older wizard was the only adult Harry had ever had to confide in.  

The second time they met was during Harry’s fourth year. Sirius had given him a mirror. The mirror was connected to a matching one that Sirius had in his possession. The two of them were able to communicate more frequently than just letters after that. They spoke a couple of times a week at least.

“You did?” Harry tilted his head, he felt a sharp spike of anger course through him.

Sirius had alluded to the fact that other people were staying with him this summer. His godfather had finally settled into a secure location in his family’s old home. Sirius had wanted to have Harry come stay with him this past summer. They had been making plans for just that when his morose godfather informed him that Harry could no longer come to stay. Dumbledore, who was helping to hide Sirius, didn’t think it was a good idea.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded.

“Why?” What Harry really wanted to ask was why hadn’t he been invited as well. Sirius was his godfather.

“Well, it’s rather difficult to explain, and I’m not really supposed to,” Hermione straightened her spine.

Harry knew Hermione’s desire to follow the rules, and her desire to be a good friend were warring within her. The fact that she had even brought it up was huge. Hermione only ever told him the bare minimum facts about her misadventures with Weasley and Longbottom. Harry didn’t begrudge her this since he knew how much she valued friendships, and so he never pried.

But now? This? This was his godfather, and he couldn’t help but be angry. “You wouldn’t have brought it up if you weren’t going to say anything.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “You know about how Neville, Ron, and I, and a few others left Hogwarts suddenly at the end of last year?”

Harry nodded. There had been some commotion about the group of Gryffindors disappearing in the middle of the night. No one really knew what happened. There were rumors of course. However, Harry thought they were too outlandish to believe. Breaking in to the Ministry seemed to be too crazy even for Longbottom and his cohorts.

“We went to the Ministry. Neville was lured there by visions sent to him from Voldemort,” Hermione whispered.

“Voldemort?” Harry lifted a single eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with what the Daily Prophet’s been writing about Longbottom and Dumbledore? That they’ve gone completely off their rockers by declaring Voldemort’s come back from the dead?”

“They haven’t! What the Dailey Prophet is printing is all lies! When I get my hands on Rita Skeeter,” Hermione hissed vehemently.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel, Hermione,” Harry held his hands up in supplication.

“My apologies. It’s just been difficult hearing the way they’re defaming Neville and Professor Dumbledore. I witnessed the events with my own eyes, and the Ministry still refuses to believe it,” Hermione shook her head.

“What happened?” Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.

He knew all about Voldemort. The former Dark Lord was indirectly responsible for his own parents’ deaths. After the dark wizard had been killed in his attack of the Longbottoms, his most faithful followers had turned their attentions to the Potters in a bid to discover what happened.

The Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. had attacked his parents. James Potter was killed in a duel with the Lestrange brothers but Harry’s father had succeeded in taking Rabastan Lestrange with him. Lily Potter had died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and Crouch Jr. The muggleborn witch had left the beautiful Bellatrix with a nasty scar across her face. Before they could harm Harry the Aurors had arrived to arrest them.

Harry’s knowledge of the wizard wasn’t all bad things either. It was impossible not to hear the good things after having spent five years in Slytherin. His fellow Slytherins were always whispering about how great the Dark Lord had been, what a shame it was that he’d been stopped before his vision could be completed, and how terrible it was that he was gone now.

“Voldemort lured Neville to the Ministry through visions of his father being tortured,” Hermione began.

“Hermione, last I time checked Voldemort was dead. He’s been dead since Halloween night 1981,” Harry snorted.

“Not exactly, he came back,” Hermione sighed.

“He came back? When? How?”

“First year.”

“First year! That’s five years, Hermione! How is that possible?”

Hermione rubbed her forehead. “The Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Philosopher’s Stone… Is that why you were so keen to research Nicholas Flamel at the end of the year?” Harry’s brain rapidly made the connection. He keenly remembered being pulled in to Hermione’s fevered research of the alchemist. It had sparked his own interest in alchemy.

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore was hiding it in the third floor corridor. That’s why it was forbidden that year. Voldemort had already tried stealing it from Gringotts. Professor Dumbledore offered to hide it here.”

“Obviously that wasn’t successful,” Harry drawled.

“No,” Hermione sighed.

“How did he get it? How was he even alive to get the stone in the first place? Or get inside Hogwarts for that matter?”

“He was a wraith, and he was possessing Professor Quirrell,” Hermione explained.

“Professor Quirrell…” Harry felt a sliver of ice slide down his spine.

He remembered the abrupt revelation that Professor Quirrell wouldn’t complete the rest of the year and wouldn’t return the next year either. Was Hermione right? Could the reason why he left so suddenly be because he’d been possessed by Voldemort?

“Yes, Professor Quirrell,” Hermione nodded.

“Voldemort got the stone, and what made a new body?”

“Yes, however, I don’t know how. Professor Dumbledore didn’t tell us how.”

“Right, but that was four years ago. What has he been doing since then? Why wait so long to attack the Ministry?”

“Professor Dumbledore believes he wants to consolidate power, and gather strength before revealing himself.”

“Why did he reveal himself at the end of last year then? Or well I guess he didn’t really reveal himself since no one but your group actually saw him or believes he’s back,” Harry frowned.

“He wanted a prophecy from the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. He needed Neville to get it for him,” Hermione explained.

Harry shook his head. “Prophecy?”

“I don’t know it,” Hermione answered.

“Thank you for telling me what you know, Hermione. I appreciate it,” Harry was grateful for the information.

Contact with Sirius had been sporadic this summer, and his godfather hadn’t said a thing about Voldemort being back to him in the last two years they’d known one another. A spike of pain struck Harry at the thought. Why wouldn’t his godfather share such important information with him? Didn’t he trust Harry?

“You deserve to know,” Hermione murmured sincerely.

Harry couldn’t help but think that the cat was out of the bag anyway. Dumbledore and Longbottom were publically declaring the return of Voldemort. Hermione was giving him the true story. Harry doubted Rita Skeeter was going to deliver an entirely factual story in the Dailey Prophet.

Hermione lingered a little while longer. They spoke about what they were hoping to study this year. Harry didn’t share everything he was hoping to study with Hermione. He hadn’t since third year when he started looking in to dark magic. It was inevitable. Slytherins from the older, darker families would often discuss such magic in the common room. Harry’s desire to learn magic his ambition and curiosity demanded to learn even this forbidden area of magic.

Harry acquired dark magical texts from Knockturn Alley, and from Theo. The dark magic came as easily to him as the magic in class did. Sometimes it felt easier. Part of Harry worried about the ease with which he could perform dark magic. The larger part of him didn’t care. Magic was magic, and this was a belief that only solidified within him as he grew older.

The Hogwarts Express finally pulled in to Hogsmeade Station, and Harry smiled to have finally returned home.

Chapter Text

There was a different air to Hogwarts this year. The normal cheer and whimsy seemed to be absent. Dumbledore’s speech about the return of Voldemort certainly seemed to instill a sense of levity in everyone. Well, almost everyone. 

In comparison to the rest of the school the atmosphere in the Slytherin Common Room was positively upbeat. 

Harry casually surveyed the room from over the top of his book.

The normally cool and collected members were positively giddy. Harry had heard more giggling than he typically cared for. Even if Hermione hadn’t told him Voldemort had truly returned Harry was certain he would have put things together sooner or later. Not all Slytherins were as cunning and secretive as they thought they were.

His gaze darted to Malfoy in particular who sat holding court with the upper year students.

Harry supposed he was being slightly unfair to the blonde wizard. Malfoy had certainly grown up quite a bit in the last couple of years. He wasn’t nearly as unbearable as he was when they were younger. Malfoy hadn’t been able to go a couple of sentences without mentioning how high ranking his father was, or how wealthy or old the Malfoy family was. 

Malfoy had proven himself a capable wizard, and intelligent for all his pompousness. Luckily he was slowly losing that pompousness, which allowed for more of his favorable traits to shine through. 

Harry thoughtfully observed the blonde. 

Hermione’s words about Malfoy admiring him were still bouncing around in his head. It couldn’t be true. Malfoy didn’t even like Harry. They tolerated one another’s presence.

Harry supposed he did find Malfoy’s dramatics amusing. In a way Malfoy had actually helped him in his first year. Malfoy’s influence in getting their yearmates to shun him only made Harry try harder. The Sorting Hat said he had a thirst to prove himself, and it was right. The way the other Slytherins looked down at him made him all the more determined to prove them wrong. 

“Your summer was eventful I see,” Theo commented as he settled down beside Harry on the corner couch the black haired teen had claimed as his own. 

Besides Hermione, Theodore Nott was the only other person Harry could count as a friend. The quiet, thin boy was studious, and for the most part he kept to himself. The brown haired teen was a pure blood from an old family, however, the Notts were not as wealthy or of as high a social standing as the Malfoys or Greengrasses. 

Nevertheless, Theo was still the heir to an ancient house, and he did have to play the part. This meant Theo was forced into Malfoy’s and the others company more often than not especially as they got older. Social networking was quite important among the old families. 

Harry was a Potter, and a half blood. The Potters were an old family but they had never been a noble one. He didn’t fit in among the upper class Slytherins, and frankly he had no desire to deal with their scheming and social climbing. 

Now, that Harry knew Voldemort had been back for a number of years he wondered if that might also play a roll in Theo spending more and more time in Malfoy’s company. It was a well-known secret that Malfoy and Nott’s fathers were Death Eaters. If Voldemort was back their Lord must have called them back to his service, and eventually he would no doubt call the sons of his followers as well.  

The shorter boy hadn’t even sat with him at the Welcome Feast. 

“Why do you say that?” Harry tilted his head. 

Theo gave him an exaggerated once over.

“Oh, not you too. Hermione was the only one not to make a fuss of it,” Harry ran a hand over his face.

Theo snorted. “Your change in appearance is all Draco could talk about the entire feast.”

“Honestly, if I knew it was going to be such a big deal I wouldn’t have bothered,” Harry sighed. 

“No, I’ve been telling you for years to get rid of those awful glasses. It will help improve your dueling.”

“True, I won’t need to worry about them falling off or breaking them,” Harry agreed.

“Or having them snatched off your face,” Theo smirked. 

Harry scowled and then smirked. “That was the only way you could win a duel against me.”

That and Harry hadn’t been using his full power. 

“Very true, you’re an utter terror to duel against,” Theo stated seriously. 

“Thank you,” Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement. He’d worked hard for the distinction. 

“Of course, credit where credit is due,” Theo nodded his head.

“How was your summer?” Harry asked. 

“Eventful,” Theo answered wearily. 

“Oh?” Harry was curious. He didn’t think his friend would come right out and say anything about Voldemort but there was sure to be hints. Harry was certain he would be able to get the information out of him. 

“Yes, we’re getting closer and closer to graduation, which means we’re closer to adulthood. My father wants me prepared.”

Harry nodded in understanding. He’d been able to read between the lines. Theo’s father was a strict wizard. 

He’d benefited vicariously from Thoros Nott’s thorough etiquette lessons. The man was a perfectionist and expected the same from his only child. Theo had taught Harry everything that Harry couldn’t just read in a book about high society pure bloods traditions and expectations. Harry would one day be Lord Potter. He may not like all of the parties and politics but he did plan to use his seats in the Wizengamot for his own purposes. 

“Malfoy wanted me to extend the offer to join us,” Theo stated dully.

“Join you?”

“Yes, sit with us during meals and in the common room.”

“I’ll think about it,” Harry answered neutrally. 

He didn’t really want more of a social life. Harry found niceties tiring. It’s why Harry had turned down the offer when it was made during his third year. After Harry’s refusal Malfoy and he struck up a neutral relationship of tolerating one another. Malfoy was assured Harry wouldn’t try to usurp his leadership position in Slytherin, and Malfoy would leave Harry alone beyond the occasional, casual interaction action.

However, if he wanted to learn more about what was Voldemort and his Death Eaters were up to the best way would be to become friendlier with their children.

“Understandable, we’ve not been very welcoming,” Theo shifted uncomfortably. 

“You’ve been more welcoming than others,” Harry muttered under his breath.

His thoughts turned to Sirius, and what Hermione said about staying with him. Harry had forgotten to ask why she had stayed with his godfather over the summer, and who else had been staying there. He’d been a little consumed by his own anger. Sirius’s letters had made it seem like there was a full house.

Harry could surmise enough from what Hermione had told him. He knew it had something to do with Voldemort. If Hermione was there Harry was certain Longbottom and Weasley had also been there. If Longbottom and Weasley were there then it was more than likely that their parents were also there. In conclusion they were undoubtedly working to counter whatever plans Voldemort was working on. 

It would explain why they didn’t want Harry around. Harry was a Slytherin and that’s all he would ever be in their eyes. 

The rest of the evening passed much like it normally did the first day back from summer break. Harry sat in his corner and read. His housemates came by to catch up with him, some were classmates he was friendly with and some he wasn’t friendly with. Harry was suddenly more popular than he’d ever been. The housemates he’d barely spoken to in the last 5 years were coming up just to ask him how his summer was. They all had comments to make about his haircut and lack of glasses. 

Then of course conversation turned to the two new professors Hogwarts would be hosting. 

Horace Slughorn was a former potions professor returning from retirement to take the place of Professor Whistlefern, who had been the potions professor for the last decade. She was going on maternity leave for the year. Dolores Umbridge would be taking over the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts. The position never could seem to hold the same professor for more than a year. 

Slughorn was also to be the new head of Slytherin house. He didn’t seem too bad from what Hermione had said. He’d been the potion professor for decades before retiring so at least Slughorn had experience. But Umbridge? Harry had a feeling he wasn’t going to enjoy her class if her little speech was anything to go by. 

Harry turned in for the night. He shared a room with Blaise and Theo. Slytherins had the benefit to only two to three to a room, along with en-suite bathroom. The extravagance of it all was so much more than anything he’d experienced at the Dursleys. As a little eleven-year-old it had been a huge shock and adjustment. He’d gone from living in a cupboard under the stairs to a large four-poster bed all to himself. 

He settled in to his bed, sighing at the comfort. Harry dropped off to sleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow. 

The next morning he was up before his roommates. He may not have to complete a long list of chores anymore but years of early rising had him maintaining the habit. Harry dressed and grabbed his bag. 

He stepped in to the hallway and started making his way to the Common Room. Harry didn’t quite make it. Someone bumped in to him. 

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” Malfoy hissed at him.

Harry glanced at Malfoy in bemusement. “I’m sorry you’re so clumsy and bumped in to me, Malfoy.”

Malfoy glared at him. 

“Why are you up so early?” Harry eyed the blonde. Compared to Harry he was always so well put together. Of course Harry had come a long way from his wild curls, and too huge and too ratty hand me downs. Still he never thought he’d be able to style his hair as perfectly as Malfoy did or have robes that were as neatly pressed as Malfoy’s were.   

“None of your business, Potter,” Malfoy drew himself up. 

They were of a similar height, both tall with athletic builds, with Harry being just slightly taller and broader. Something Harry immensely enjoyed because Malfoy always held himself as straight as possible to close the gap between their heights when they conversed with one another.

“All right then,” Harry turned to go.

“Wait, Potter, I’m—”

Harry turned back, lifting one dark eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just under a lot of pressure this year,” Malfoy appeared surprisingly vulnerable. 

“Sixth year is a challenging one,” Harry threw Malfoy a bone. 

“Yes, it is,” Malfoy took a step closer and after taking a deep breath he spoke again. “Potter, I know you and I haven’t exactly been friendly, however, you are the best in our year. Merlin you’re the best in school, and I know I wouldn’t even be Prefect if you hadn’t turned it down. I apologize for not welcoming you in first year like I should have.”

“It’s not as if we’re enemies, Malfoy.”

The blonde wizard had never bullied him or anything. Malfoy had just never been welcoming to him during his first two years. Even that had changed after second year. But it was Harry who turned down friendship then. 

“No, we’re not. However, I would like us to be friends if you would amenable?” Malfoy looked so hopeful. 

“You’re actually being sincere,” Harry tilted his head thoughtfully. Harry had a bit of a sixth sense for lies. 

“Yes,” Malfoy nodded seriously. 

“Are you sure you’re not doing this because of my newly discovered good looks?” Harry ran a hand through his black curls, and smirked.

Malfoy’s pale face flushed a dark red. “Don’t make me regret this, Potter.”

“Harry,” Harry corrected, acting spontaneously. He was curious to see how this would play out. Harry was curious about Malfoy’s desire to be friendly. He was even more curious to see what Malfoy might know about Voldemort. “Friends call each other by first names.”

“Right, Harry. Then you must call me Draco.”

“Should we head to breakfast, Draco?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I suppose,” Draco drawled once more the picture of cool and collected.

The blonde wizard swept passed Harry with the smooth swagger he’d perfected as he grew older. Harry rolled his eyes and followed after him. 

They were two of the first Slytherins at the table that morning. Most of the students from the other houses and professors were also absent. They settled at the end of the table furthest from the professors table. It was the choice spot for all the older students since it was away from the prying eyes of the professors. 

Malfoy—Draco and he spoke about what they were looking forward to this year. Harry was surprised by how well the conversation was going. He’d known Malfoy was intelligent. He was consistently in the top ten of their year. But with all of his bragging Harry hadn’t expected to hold such a pleasant conversation with the blonde wizard. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Zabini sat down beside Harry a grin on his face. 

Draco rolled his eyes while Theo sat down beside Draco. 

Theo nodded his head in greeting to Harry. The thin, brown haired wizard looked pleased to see Harry sitting with his other friends. With Harry sitting with them he wouldn’t have to chose who to sit with everything morning. 

“Good to have you with us, Potter,” Zabini patted him on the back.

“Good to be here, Zabini,” Harry drawled back sarcastically. 

Theo and Draco chuckled.

The other Slytherins filed in around not too long afterwards. The upper years settled in around Harry and Draco. They adjusted quickly to the new dynamics of Harry sitting among their ranks. No one questioned it. They knew better to challenge Harry now. 

Harry was fairly certain he was going to miss being able to read during meal times. But the information he was going to garner from his housemates would be beneficial. 

“Finally, our timetables,” Draco glanced down the table. 

The large form of Horace Slughorn was making his way down the Slytherin table. The heavy set man may have a similar form to Uncle Vernon but it was clear to see he was the complete opposite in temperament. He was speaking jovially to all of the students as he handed them their timetable. 

“He’s taking forever. We’ll be late to our first class,” Theo grumbled. 

“If he didn’t stop to talk to every single student maybe he’d be a bit faster,” Harry agreed.

He turned his attention back to a conversation between Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. The girls were discussing a breakthrough in arithmancy some master in France had made. It hadn’t been shared with the public yet but Daphne’s aunt personally knew them. The discussion made Harry more certain of his decision to try sitting with his classmates for a change. Maybe his fellow Slytherin’s conversations didn’t entirely revolve around scheming and social climbing.

He was so engrossed in the discussion he missed Professor Slughorn finally reaching the upper years. 

Zabini elbowed him to get his attention. “Potter’s next to me, Professor Slughorn.”

“Oh Mr. Potter, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. I taught your father. He was Headboy and a brilliant Auror. Your mother on the other hand was wonderful at potions. Oh and Headgirl of course,” Professor Slughorn spouted off rapidly before Harry even had a chance to turn around to face him.

Harry twisted on the bench, swinging his long legs around to fully greet his new professor. The large man was looking down at the sheets of parchment in his hands.

“I’m sorry you missed our first little gathering. But I would love to have you join our next one. I’ve heard great things about you from the other professors. Ah, here we are,” Professor Slughorn looked up as he finally found Harry’s timetable, and held out the parchment towards Harry.

The moment the professor’s eyes landed on Harry’s face he froze.

“Thank you, Professor, and yes I just think I might come to the next gathering,” Harry replied smoothly, taking the timetable. 

Professor Slughorn’s hand remained hanging there. He was completely immobile as he stared at Harry’s face. The only thing that changed was his increasingly horrified facial expression as his gaze swept over Harry’s features. 

“Professor? Are you all right?” Harry was truly worried about how pale the old and rotund wizard was becoming.

“Mr. Riddle?” Slughorn gasped.

“Excuse me?” Harry frowned.

Slughorn’s eyes rolled back in his head and he promptly fainted. 

Chapter Text

Harry was shocked by the sudden turn of events. Students were screaming, and several professors were rushing over to check Slughorn’s prone form. 

The first to arrive at the downed professor’s side was Professor Flitwick. The Charms professor enervated Slughorn, and the large professor lurched up to a sitting position. 

“Are you all right, Horace?” Sprout questioned while simultaneously keeping the flood of students back. 

The other professors stayed in the background to herd the students back to their seats. 

“Yes, yes Pomona, I’m fine,” Slughorn waved the witch away. 

His eyes darted to Harry, and he flinched. Slughorn quickly averted his gaze to look anywhere but Harry.

Unease settled into the pit of his stomach. 

“Are you certain you don’t need to see Poppy?” Flitwick helped Slughorn to his feet. 

“No, no, I’m quite all right. I just got a bit too excited about the start of a new school year. I’m not as young as I used to be,” Slughorn chuckled.

Harry stared at the potions professor, however, the wizard continued to avoid looking in Harry’s direction. The professors returned to the head table without a glance back to Harry.

“I guess old Slughorn likes your new looks too, eh Potter?” Zabini elbowed him. 

Harry flashed the others a bright grin, hiding away his confusion. “It looks that way doesn’t it?”

His fellow Slytherins all chuckled. 

“What was that he called you? A riddle?” Pansy Parkinson tittered.

“So poetic,” Davis snorted.

A few others gagged.

Harry hummed his agreement.

The Great Hall settled back down. Slughorn had left the hall and left passing out the schedules to the rest of the Prefects. The incident was forgotten as everyone’s thoughts turned back to the first day of a new school year.

On the outside he continued to chat with the other Slytherins but inside his mind was racing. Slughorn hadn’t called him a riddle like everyone seemed to believe.

He’d called him Mr. Riddle. 

Who was this Mr. Riddle? And why did Slughorn call him by that name? Obviously there was a resemblance between Harry and this person. Whoever they were Slughorn appeared to be afraid of them. Afraid enough that Slughorn passed out at the mere sight of Harry. 

This new puzzle greatly intrigued Harry.

The information was tucked away as Harry followed his classmates to their first class of the day for the Slytherin Sixth Years. He focused wholly on his classes, however, he did not forget about Mr. Riddle. Harry was determined to search for this person. He thought there might be a good chance the person was a former Hogwarts student. Most of the people Slughorn knew seemed to be former students of his.

The next several weeks didn’t allow him time to search. The first weeks of school were an adjustment period. Harry was trying to come to terms with his new social rank. Over the years he’d developed a very comfortable routine for himself, and altering that schedule took some adjustment. Harry supposed he was being a bit too overdramatic. But his classmates were surprisingly hard to slip away from.

Now that his classmates realized Harry was willing to socialize with them they seemed reluctant to let him go. Every time Harry tried to sneak away to practice his spells or to begin his research into Slughorn’s Mr. Riddle there was always one of them there to ask him a question or try to get his attention.

“I don’t understand why,” Harry scowled at the giggling backs of a group of fifth year girls as they walked away.

“Come on, Harry, you have to be aware that everyone has been captivated by you for years. You’re the best in our year. Merlin, you’re the best in school. However, you’ve always chosen to be a recluse except for Granger and myself. People want to know more about you,” Theo answered.

“The looks don’t hurt either,” Blaise added.

“Zabini, is there something you want to tell me? You bring up my looks quite a bit,” Harry smirked.

“What can I say, Potter? You’re just too gorgeous. Don’t you think Draco?” Blaise elbowed his blonde friend.

Draco flushed and shot Blaise a fierce glare.

Harry rolled his eyes but he did toss his head dramatically, and run a hand through his black curls to the amusement of the other boys.

“With that I think I’m going to spend an evening on my own. I’ll see you boys tomorrow,” Harry stood up.

“Potter, don’t leave me here alone with them,” Blaise whined.

“Are we really that poor company?” Draco asked, frowning.

“No, Draco, sometimes I just need time to myself,” without a second look back he swept from the common room.

Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement. He’d discovered it by accident in his second year when looking for a place to practice his spells. Harry strode passed the entrance three times imagining his perfect training room. A nondescript door appeared, and Harry stepped inside feeling a surge of exhilaration about finally getting a chance to unleash his magic for the first time since getting back to Hogwarts.

A few hours later he was panting with exertion, and sweat dripped down his face. But he felt amazing. He walked to the small washroom to splash some water on his face. Harry met his hazel green-gold eyes in the mirror before catching sight of the huge grin stretched across his face. He felt lighter, and with a spring in his step he left the Room of Requirement behind to head back to the Slytherin Common Room.

Harry took the long way back. He had his dad’s invisibility cloak so he wasn’t worried about being caught by a prefect or a professor. He passed through the trophy room, and paused at the case where his dad’s name was listed on a few of the Quidditch trophies. Harry loved flying but he’d never bothered trying out for the team. He had a broom and would go flying when he felt like it. Marcus Flint had tried getting him on the team but Harry hadn’t liked how much time was required for practices and games.

James Potter was such a mystery to Harry. Harry had his eyes, golden tan skin, and dark hair. Sirius always liked to say how much Harry reminded him of James but Harry didn’t quite see it. James was a Gryffindor, popular, and outgoing. Harry was a Slytherin, and was a reluctant socializer. At the very least there were similarities between Harry and James. No matter how many times he looked at pictures of or heard stories about Lily he just couldn’t find any resemblance.

Harry was just about to leave the trophy room when one of the older trophies caught his eye. The plaque was dusty and Harry couldn’t quite make out what the award was for. But he could clearly see what the name of the awardee was: Tom M. Riddle.

In a blink Harry was at the display case, opening it and clearing it off with a quick Scrugify. The award was for Special Services to the School. There was no other information on it. Not even a date.

Nevertheless, Harry had a name. Perhaps this Mr. Riddle wasn’t Slughorn’s Mr. Riddle but it was a starting point.

///

“She is utterly awful. Easily the most terrible professor we’ve ever had,” Harry hissed as they left the Defense classroom. “And that includes Lockhart.”

Harry had never wanted to curse someone more than he did Dolores Umbridge. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to stand being in her class without cursing her, and Harry knew some good ones. He should go to Slughorn and ask if he could do an independent study for the rest of the year before he got expelled for cursing her.

However, Slughorn avoided Harry like he had a nasty case of Dragon Pox.

They were two months in to the school year now, and the potions professor still refused to look Harry in the face or acknowledge more than was absolutely necessary. In fact the large professor had even rescinded Harry’s invite to the Slug Club gatherings. Slughorn hadn’t outright said it of course since he didn’t say anything to Harry unless he absolutely had to, and even then Slughorn looked at something behind or next to Harry than directly at him. 

When Harry tried to go to one of the Slug Cliub gatherings he hadn’t been allowed in. Hermione had offered to take him as her plus one but Harry had waved her off.

The treatment only further drove Harry to find out who Riddle was, why Slughorn seemed to fear him, and most importantly why Harry looked so much like him. Harry was even more determined to uncover this mysterious Mr. Riddle.

The name he discovered in the trophy room had been a good start. He had searched for records of Tom M. Riddle. Harry was able to uncover Riddle was a student at Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945 from the Hogwarts Graduate directory. This meant that Tom M. Riddle had been a student here when Slughorn was a professor. There weren’t any other Riddles Harry could find so he had to be the one. Riddle wasn’t a wizarding surname.

Harry had spent the last few weeks trying to find Tom M. Riddle. But it was as if the wizard had disappeared after graduating. He was considering breaking into the student records vault in Hogwarts to find Riddle’s family and place of birth. Harry was fairly confident he could break through the wards without getting caught. However, he didn’t want to do anything too impulsively just yet. The black haired wizard would exhaust all his other options first before taking such a risk.

“No spells. We’re not even reading about spells just that insipid manual,” Draco ranted.

“Do you think you could write your father about her, Draco? Maybe he could get rid of her?” Blaise asked.

“I could try…Father just has more important concerns at the moment.”

Draco’s answer immediately grabbed Harry’s attention. If there was one thing Harry knew about Draco Malfoy it was that he was constantly threatening those he disliked with his father’s wrath. It seemed that the blonde boy really had grown up if he wasn’t immediately pulling out the ‘my father will hear about this’ card.

Or perhaps Lucius Malfoy truly did have more important concerns. Concerns that involved Voldemort.

Over the last few months his fellow Slytherins had been testing the waters with Harry. They didn’t know he knew what they were doing. They thought they were being smooth and sneaky in assessing where his allegiances laid. Their subtle questions about how he felt about dark magic and muggles weren’t very subtle. Alternatively they had yet to realize that Harry was likewise fishing for information. He’d already been able to work out whose parents were Death Eaters, whose were supporters and sympathizers, and whose were neutral.

Harry didn’t have any interest in becoming a Death Eater. However, the Light side wasn’t exactly too accepting of the use of dark magic. Harry didn’t have any plans on giving up practicing dark magic. In fact he would very much like to see laws reformed that allowed the practice of dark magic. Still Harry didn’t have plans of joining either side of this war. He’d wait and watch and adjust accordingly once one side came out victorious.

“Does anyone know how I might go about finding records on someone? Or even just finding them?” Harry changed the subject. He didn’t want to waste any more of his time thinking about Dolores Umbridge.

Harry might as well use the newfound resources being social afforded him. He’d nearly exhausted searching on his own.

“It depends where they were born, how old they are, and the like,” Theo answered.

“The Ministry keeps records, as does Gringotts. Naturally you’re limited in what you can see for privacy sake. Do you need to some information about someone, Harry?” Draco glanced at Harry.

“I do,” Harry nodded.

“If you give me their name perhaps I could ask my father to see if he could find something for you,” Draco offered.

“I thought you just said your father has more important things to do?” Blaise pointed out.

“This is a task easily done unlike the removal of a professor from Hogwarts,” Draco stated haughtily.

“Right,” Blaise glanced to Harry for some reason.

“What’s the name of the person you’re looking for?” Draco ignored Blaise’s look.

“Tom M. Riddle,” Harry easily told him.

“Who is Tom M. Riddle?” Blaise questioned.

“I don’t know that’s what I’m trying to find out,” Harry drawled.

Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Why do you need to find him?” Theo’s brows were furrowed.

“I’ll tell you once I know,” Harry smirked.

“All right, I’ll send a letter to my father,” Draco nodded.

“Thank you, Draco, I appreciate the help,” Harry smiled at the other Slytherin.

“Of course, it’s nothing,” Draco’s ears flushed with embarrassment despite his pompous tone.

Blaise was cackling behind them.

“What’s so funny?” Harry turned to the other wizard.

“Nothing, Potter, it’s nothing. You clearly wouldn’t understand,” Blaise shook his head.

“If you say so,” Harry easily dismissed the thought.

He was just focused on finally getting an answer to Slughorn’s strange reaction towards him.

///

“My Lord?”

“Yes, Lucius,” the Dark Lord lifted one dark eyebrow at his nervous follower.

Lucius didn’t always use to be so nervous. It was only his recent failure to collect the Prophecy from the Department of Mysteries from Longbottom and his cohorts that had the Malfoy Lord on edge. Then of course it could also be the task Voldemort had set the Malfoy Heir as punishment for Lucius’s failures.

Lucius Malfoy loved his son.

“I received a letter from my son.”

“Does dear Draco have an update to give me on the little task I gave him? We are nearly in December, and he has yet to accomplish anything of real value to me,” Voldemort drawled, leaning back in his office chair.

“Not exactly, my Lord,” Lucius’s fingers twitched ever so slightly, yet it was all that was needed for Voldemort to know the blonde wizard was truly worried about whatever his son had written him. Terrified in fact.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Lucius. Tell me what he wrote. This must be important for you to have interrupted me in my study when I specifically asked to be left alone for the night,” Voldemort narrowed his dark red eyes on the other wizard.

Lucius quailed under the fierce glare. “I apologize for the interruption, my Lord.”

Voldemort did so enjoy making them squirm. Nevertheless, he really wanted this conversation to start wrapping up. He had more important things, which required his attentions than whatever banality a schoolboy wrote to his father. “The letter, Lucius.”

“Draco’s letter asked if I might be able to find some information on a person his friend is searching for. He didn’t know what he was asking, my Lord. I assure you I’ve never mentioned that particular name to him before. Never,” Lucius answered in a rush.

“What name?” the Dark Lord demanded, magic coiling within him like a snake about to strike.

“Tom M. Riddle,” Lucius choked out.

Rage consumed him, and he was barely able to hiss out, “Who is asking after thatname?”

“Harry Potter, my Lord,” Lucius was quivering slightly as a swirl of dark magic lashed through the room.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort tasted the name.

He hadn’t thought of the boy in fifteen years. Not since he’d had to make a choice about which child fit the prophecy. In the end Voldemort had chosen the Longbottom boy. He would never admit, not even to himself, he hadn’t wanted to face his dalliance with James Potter.

Voldemort hadn’t heard a word about the Potter boy since his return. The most the Dark Lord knew about the boy was that he was not involved with the Order or Longbottom’s cohorts. 

“Yes, my Lord, despite his parents leanings he is a friend of Draco’s. Draco actually speaks quite highly of him. He is the first in their year, and quite talented and powerful,” Lucius rambled.

“I would not think you would approve of your son being friends with a Gryffindor,” Voldemort was surprised that Lucius was bothering to say anything positive about the Potter boy.

“Harry Potter isn’t a Gryffindor, my Lord,” Lucius frowned.

It was the Dark Lord’s turn to frown. “Not a Gryffindor.”

“No, my Lord.”

“What house is he in?” it had been quite some time he’d been so thoroughly wrong about something.

“He’s in Slytherin, my Lord.”

Voldemort tapped long fingers against the arm of his office chair. He knew he was making Lucius nervous with his extended silence. The Dark Lord was too lost in his own thoughts to be amused by his follower’s fear.

Harry Potter was a Slytherin. Harry Potter was born at the end of July. It meant nothing yet…

“Who raised the boy?”

“I believe Draco told me he was raised by Lily Potter’s muggle relatives,” Lucius answered promptly.

“Have you seen the boy? What does he look like?”

“No, not personally…” Lucius hesitated slightly.

Voldemort lifted a questioning eyebrow.

Lucius flushed ever so slightly. “Draco may have described him once or twice in his letters.”

“And?” apparently the Malfoy heir had a crush on the Potter boy.

“He used to wear glasses, however, recently he corrected his vision. He’s tall, has black hair, hazel eyes, and is quite…handsome,” Lucius struggled to get the last part passed his lips.

It meant nothing and yet…

“Lucius have you sent out the invitations for your Yule Ball yet?”

“No, my Lord, I don’t believe Narcissa has finalized the guest list yet.”

“Excellent. Tell her to add one more to her list. Tell her to invite Harry Potter, and tell your son to make sure the Potter boy attends, understood?” Voldemort narrowed fierce red eyes on the blonde wizard.

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius bowed his head.

“Leave me,” Voldemort dismissed.

Lucius exited as swiftly as his propriety allowed him to.

Harry Potter was a Slytherin. He was at the top of his class. He was black haired. He was born at the end of July.

“Coincidences,” Voldemort spat.

Yet…

Voldemort summoned one of his followers. He needed to be certain. His magic and mind told him not to ignore this, and so he wouldn’t.

Within moments his follower entered.

“Severus, thank you for coming so swiftly,” Voldemort greeted.

“Of course, my Lord,” the potion master bowed his greasy black head.

“I need you to brew me a vial of Familia Sanguini,” the Dark Lord order.

“When would you like it, my Lord?” was Severus’s only question.

Voldemort did so appreciate the man’s lack of interest in most things.

“Yule.”

“It will be done,” Severus nodded.

Chapter Text

Harry hummed softly as he made his way back to the dungeons. Now that he made sure to take time for himself away from his classmates everything at Hogwarts was going more smoothly.

Or well Harry felt more relaxed.

Except when around Umbridge that was. Harry was seriously considering arranging an ‘accident’ to be rid of her. He wasn’t sure he would survive the year without doing something drastic if things continued the way they were. The black haired Sixth Year was certain he would even be able to find more than enough willing accomplices. Students from all four Hogwarts Houses hated her with a burning passion, and no one would miss her were she to suddenly disappear without a trace.

Maybe if he was lucky someone else would lose it and get rid of her before he did.

Harry was lost in his thoughts of various scenarios in disposing of Umbridge when someone ran in to him. Harry stumbled a bit but didn’t lose his balance. The person who ran in to him wasn’t so lucky, and toppled over.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” a familiar voice apologized.

Harry glanced down at Longbottom who was still looking at the stone floor. The blonde still had a round face despite losing his baby fat in the last couple of years. The other teenager appeared troubled, and for once Longbottom was alone without Weasley or Hermione there hovering over him.

“It’s fine, Longbottom. No blood, no foul,” Harry offered the Gryffindor his hand.

Longbottom accepted his hand, and Harry pulled the shorter teenager to his feet.

“Thanks, Potter,” Longbottom murmured finally looking up at Harry.

“You’re welcome,” Harry flashed him a quick, well practiced fake-friendly smile and he turned to leave.

Harry didn’t hate Longbottom but he didn’t exactly like him either. The black haired Slytherin was fairly certain Longbottom felt the same towards Harry. That’s why it surprised him so much when the Gryffindor didn’t take Harry’s clear dismissal but instead fell in to step with him. Longbottom didn’t say anything still clearly lost in whatever was weighing on his mind.

Curiosity piqued about whatever was troubling the Boy-Who-Lived Harry asked, “What brings you to this side of the castle so close to curfew?”

Longbottom startled and looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Oh, just, I had to speak to the headmaster about something.”

“I see,” Harry hummed as if he understood.

 “Yeah,” Longbottom’s shoulders were slumped, defeated.

Harry could infer that the two must be discussing Dark Lord related topics. The Dailey Prophet was still defaming their names, and most witches and wizards still didn’t believe Voldemort had returned. Dumbledore was rarely seen in the Great Hall for meals. More often than not McGonagall was acting Headmistress since Dumbledore was off seeing to other matters. What those matters were only his closest confidants seemed to know. 

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. It must be terrible when no one believes you,” Harry consoled.

Harry knew how terrible it was when no believed you. He’d grown up without anyone believing him. The muggles only believed the bad things the Dursleys spread about him no matter how well behaved Harry truly was.  

Longbottom on the other hand was so used to everyone but the Slytherins fawning all over him. Now, even some of his fellow Gryffindors were turning their backs on him.

“It’s been awful,” Longbottom nodded.

“I’m sure Umbridge doesn’t help. I’ve heard she’s paid you particularly close attention. Even called you a liar in class,” Harry put just enough outrage in his voice to make it clear to Longbottom he was on his side.

“She’s awful. She’s purposely not teaching us anything. We’re all going to end up not knowing what to do when Voldemort does end up deciding to attack. Now Dumbledore wants me to—”

“What? What does the headmaster need you to do?” Harry prompted when Longbottom cut himself off.

“It’s nothing,” Longbottom shook his head.

Harry didn’t push it despite how much he wanted to. Longbottom was already spooked. He did tuck the information away to be acted on, on another day.

“Well, this is where we part. I know we’re not friends Longbottom, however, you are Hermione’s friend and if you need something I can help you with don’t hesitate to ask,” Harry offered.

“Thank you, Potter,” Longbottom appeared truly grateful.

“Of course, goodnight,” Harry turned down the stairs.

“Night,” Longbottom called and headed up the stairs.

Harry smirked to himself, pleased with the unexpected events. He hadn’t been able to acquire the information of what Dumbledore wanted Longbottom to do but he had gotten Longbottom to relax his guard around him. If Harry wanted to stay ahead of this war it would pay to have information from both sides of it.

The next morning at breakfast Draco received a response from his father about Harry’s inquiry into Tom M. Riddle.

“My Father said he’ll look into Tom Riddle for you. My mother also extended an invitation to our Yule Ball,” Draco looked stunned by the proclamation.

“She did?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“She did,” Draco smiled, looking pleased.

“You’ll need to purchase some formal robes,” Theo pointed out.

“I believe we have a Hogsmeade trip just before the holiday break. We should all go together,” Blaise suggested.

“It sounds like a good plan,” Harry nodded.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do for the holiday break. Harry and Sirius’s conversations were much more stilted and infrequent than they had been in years previous. Harry had yet to forgive his godfather for the summer. Sirius kept trying to make up for it by being overly cheery, and sharing a whole host of stories about Harry’s parents but so far the older wizard hadn’t apologized or acknowledged the issue.

When Harry had tried bringing it up Sirius always bluntly changed the subject. Harry considered simply ignoring his godfather until he apologized but he found it quite difficult to do so. Sirius was the closest thing he had to a father. Harry may have been quite self sufficient for his age, however, that didn’t mean that he didn’t want a parental figure in his life.

Sirius was the only adult he had in his life. Sirius was the only family Harry could claim, and he knew the older wizard cared about him. They had been so close before this summer before Dumbledore stepped in and decided Harry was untrustworthy to live with his own godfather.

The day of the trip to Hogsmeade was a cold sunny day. The four of them had breakfast, and then caught the carriages to the small village. Crabbe and Goyle were left to their own devices. Harry could only imagine what the two did when Draco wasn’t there to tell them what to do. Stare at the walls of the common room most likely.

“I completely forgot that I need to grab a present for my mum,” Blaise exclaimed while they were on their way to the fancier robe shop in Hogsmeade.

“We can stop—” Harry offered.

“No, it’s fine, you need robes, and that can take a while. Best to get it started straight away. Theo, you had to get something for your father too, right,” Blaise turned to the thin boy.

“I—?”

Blaise elbowed him.

Harry frowned, picking up on the silent communication.

“Right, I need to purchase a Yule gift for him,” Theo nodded.

“Great, so Draco can go with you, Harry,” Blaise nudged the blonde towards Harry.

“All right,” Harry agreed, confused. It was clear that Blaise wanted Draco and Harry to spend some time alone together but why? The two of them had reconciled months ago. They had even gone from being friendly to actually being friends. There was no need to make them spend more time alone together.

Once Harry had gotten passed the pompous pureblood exterior Draco was really quite tolerable, and dare Harry admit, pleasant to be around.

“We’ll catch up with you both once we’re finished,” Blaise waved as he towed Theo away.

Draco and he walked in silence for a bit before Draco asked him about one of the spell books Harry had been reading last night. It was another book on spell crafting, and Harry was surprised and impressed by how knowledgeable Draco was on the subject; although, perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Draco was often times ranked third or even second in class, beating Hermione in a couple of subjects. He excelled at potions, and charms.

“Where did you learn so much about spell crafting?” Harry inquired.

“My godfather, Severus Snape,” Draco puffed out his chest slightly.

“The famous potions master?” Harry had read a few of the journals the reclusive wizard had written.

Potions wasn’t his favorite subject but like with everything else Harry always tried to have a well rounded knowledge of it.

“Yes, he and my father were friends when they were in Hogwarts together,” Draco answered.

“I didn’t realize he knew so much about spell crafting as well,” Harry mused.

“He’s created quite a few spells. I could show them to you sometime?” Draco offered.

“I’d like that,” Harry smiled.

“Right, this is the one we want,” Draco pointed to the small shop.

They entered the shop and the tailor immediately ushered Harry up onto one of their stands to take his measurements.

“What colors were you thinking?” the tailor, an older gentleman, asked Harry.

“I’m not sure. Draco, you’re better at styles and colors than I am. It’s also your parents’ party any suggestions?” Harry turned to where the blonde boy was eyeing the various fabrics along the wall.

“Are you certain you want my suggestions?”

“Of course, you always look great,” Harry answered easily. It was the truth after all. Draco was one of the best-dressed students in Hogwarts. Perhaps Draco’s sense of fashion was why Blaise was so insistent about Draco going to the shop with him.

Draco flushed before quickly giving out orders to the tailor. With Draco’s guidance Harry ended up in deep emerald robes edged with black and silver embroidery. The style was more modern with sleeves that were tight rather than voluminous.

“I really like them,” Harry twisted in the mirror admiring the cut. “You did an amazing job, Draco.”

“Thank you,” Draco preened, and then looking like he was steeling his courage he added. “You look incredible, Harry. You’ll stand out at the Yule Ball.”

Harry was surprised by how earnest Draco was. For the first time in a long while Harry found himself flushing.

“You’re making me blush, Draco,” Harry dramatically fanned himself.

“Don’t get a big head, Harry,” Draco teased.

Harry paid for his purchase and the two of them left the shop.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Draco. My head would have to grow quite large before I catch up to you.”

“Shove it,” Draco bumped his shoulder against Harry’s.

“I’ve secured my dress robes. Blaise and Theo still haven’t joined us. Let’s go get something to eat from the Three Broomsticks,” Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders and tugged the other boy down the street.

He felt strangely enthused. Harry wasn’t a fan of socialization but for some reason he was looking forward to the ball. Maybe because it meant he wouldn’t be entirely alone for the holidays since Sirius still hadn’t invited him to wherever it was he was staying.

“Yes, let’s,” Draco nodded.

The two of them meandered towards the Three Broomsticks. It wasn’t too busy as it was just past the lunch rush, and they were able to get a table.

“Is there anything I need to know before attending your parents’ famous Yule Ball?” Harry asked before taking a sip of butterbeer.

“Your manners are acceptable. You can hold intelligent and polite conversation even with those who are utterly dull,” Draco ticked off on his long pale fingers. “The question is… do you know how to dance?”

Harry smirked in answer to Draco’s wicked grin. “I’m sure I’ll pick it up fast enough.”

“That’s a no then,” Draco stated firmly. “I could teach you if you wanted?”

“Thank you, however, I don’t believe I’ll be doing much dancing, and if someone asks I’ll just ever so politely decline,” Harry shrugged.

“If you’re sure,” Draco agreed.

“I am. Are there going to be a lot of people there?”

“Yes, there will be. However, only the most elite of wizarding are invited to the Malfoy Yule Ball,” Draco with that hint of haughtiness that Harry found charming more than annoying now.

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t dare to think otherwise,” Harry mimicked Draco’s tone.

“You’re hilarious, Harry,” Draco deadpanned.

“Why was I invited then?” Harry was curious. He remembered how surprised Draco had been when he’d received the letter from his parents.

“You’re my friend, which makes you part of the elite, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Harry agreed.

Draco rolled his eyes at him. Harry threw one of his chips at the other boy.

Draco gasped in offense but with a sparkle in his gray eyes flicked his own chips at Harry. It devolved into an all out war that ended with them booted from the Three Broomsticks, and laughing so hard they were out of breath.

“It was a nice afternoon,” Harry mused aloud as the two of them made their way back towards the carriages.  

“It was,” Draco agreed, flashing a small smile at Harry. “We should do it more often.”

“We should,” Harry grinned back, bumping shoulders with the blonde.

Draco small smile widened.

Theo and Blaise were still nowhere to be seen so the two of them headed back up to the castle together. The other Slytherin boys had already returned to the castle sighting that Blaise had forgotten his money purse and had to head back. Harry didn’t mind. He truly had enjoyed his time alone with Draco.

Enthused by the day’s success Harry was looking forward to attending the Yule Ball.

Chapter Text

The holiday came quickly. Harry was relieved to have some time away from seeing Umbridge’s face. He was also looking forward to the time alone. While Harry had come to enjoy his knew social life it didn’t mean he no longer enjoyed his time alone. If anything his alone time was more precious to him now.

He spent the days leading up to the Yule Ball in the Room of Requirement, reading and studying his more elicit texts. Harry practiced his spells, and even began the arduous task of putting his spell crafting into practice.

Spell crafting wasn’t easy. It required a great deal of trial and error. For the first time in Harry’s life he found something that truly challenged him. He wasn’t quite sure if he liked it or not.

Draco had told him his godfather, Severus Snape, would be attending their Yule Ball. The blonde had offered to introduce the two of them. Harry had been quick to accept the offer. Draco had showed him a few of the spells Snape had crafted, and Harry was suitably impressed.

The blonde Slytherin had been quite helpful the past couple of weeks, and they had been spending a lot of time together.

The day before Harry was set to attend the ball, Sirius called him on the mirror. He was alone in the Sixth Year dorm room since all of the others had already returned home. Harry had already acquired permission to leave for the day on Yule, and planned to floo from Hogsmeade to Malfoy Manor.

“Prongslet!” Sirius greeted with a bright smile.

The gray eyed wizard seemed to have lost some weight from the last time Harry had seen him. Sirius had been improving since being out of Azkaban. Now he appeared to be going backwards. Stress weighed heavily on his features.

As much as seeing Sirius look ill was distressing it didn’t erase the way Sirius had been treating him.

“Sirius,” Harry greeted coolly.

Sirius’s enthusiasm dipped a bit. “I just wanted to see how you were doing for the holidays?”

“I’m fine,” Harry replied curtly.

Harry was used to staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. Even after Sirius had made his escape Harry had remained since there was nowhere for the two of them to spend time together safely. This hadn’t bothered Harry because he had known Sirius would have gladly had Harry spend the holidays with him if he could. They had spent the last two Christmases on the mirrors laughing and joking, and opening the gifts they had sent one another.

This wasn’t the case this year. Sirius had a safe place to stay. Harry just wasn’t invited.

“Good that’s good,” Sirius nodded. “You know one holiday your dad and I—”

“You told me this story already,” Harry cut him off.

Sirius wilted further but Harry hardened his heart. If Sirius wouldn’t put Harry first over Dumbledore than Harry wouldn’t put Sirius first either.

“I think I might have convinced Dumbledore to let you come join us for a few days,” Sirius rushed to offer.

Harry strongly suspected this was not the case. Dumbledore would have agreed already if he was going to allow Harry to join their tight knit little group for the holidays. It stung more than he’d ever admit knowing Hermione, Weasley, and Longbottom were there spending the holidays with his godfather something Harry had dreamed of doing for the past three years.

“Don’t bother. I already made other plans.”

“You did? What are you going to do?” Sirius looked more than a little heartbroken, which gave Harry a bit of satisfaction because since it was how Harry himself felt.

“I’ve been invited to the Malfoy’s Yule Ball tomorrow, and to spend the rest of the holidays with Draco at the Manor,” the last part wasn’t true, however, Harry was aware of his godfather’s distaste for the Malfoys and he wanted him to see that Harry had other options for company. Harry wouldn’t just be moping about waiting for a call from Sirius.

“The Malfoy’s Yule Ball!? Harry you can’t go to that. It’s going to be full of Death Eaters. You can’t associate with scum—”

“I don’t really think you can tell me who to spend time with. I would have been happy to spend the holidays with you but since you’ve chosen Dumbledore over me I’ll go elsewhere.”

“Harry…” Sirius looked miserable.

“It’s fine Sirius, everyone thinks I’m untrustworthy so I’ll just spend my time with other untrustworthy Slytherins.”

“Let me speak to Dumbledore—”

“No, you’ve had months for that. I’m done trying to compete. I have my own friends who want me around,” Harry cut him off again.

Sirius looked crushed, and at a loss for words.

“I have to go,” Harry stated sharply.

“Right, bye Prongslet. I’ll be in touch,” his godfather choked out.

“Bye,” Harry ended the call and tucked the mirror away.

For a moment he sat on his bed, feeling like he’d reached the end of his and Sirius’s relationship. Harry didn’t know what to do. Social situations weren’t his strong suit. He didn’t know how to salvage a crumbling relationship or even if he wanted to salvage it.

Harry pushed the thoughts to the back his mind. He’d deal with those emotions another day. Harry turned his attention back to spell crafting.

///

The next day Sirius tried calling him again. Harry didn’t answer.

He spent the day working on his spells. He started getting ready for the ball late afternoon. Harry’s hair had grown out a bit and it took a bit of taming to get his wild curls in some semblance of order. He should have probably gotten it cut before the ball but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Harry pulled on his emerald robes, and cast an anti-wrinkle spell on the fabric. Draco truly had done a wonderful job choosing them. Harry wasn’t one who often cared overly much about his appearance but even he had to admit he looked incredible.

With his written permission slip from Petunia he made his way out of the castle and towards the public floo at the Three Broomsticks. Harry didn’t linger in the Three Broomsticks, and stepped quickly into the floo. Harry called out his destination.

A moment of disorientation later and Harry was stepping out of an immaculate white marble fireplace. There were several in the parlor. Only the truly wealthy families had their own private floo parlors. The Malfoys were of course one of those families.

Several other wealthy wizards and witches were stepping out of the other fireplaces. Harry walked briskly towards the large entranceway, following the crowd.

“Harry,” Draco called out the moment Harry stepped into the grand entryway of Malfoy Manor.

“Draco, you look good,” Harry eyed the blonde’s silvery robes with appreciation.

“Thank you,” Draco preened. “As do you. Come on I want to introduce you to my mother and father.”

“Are Theo and Blaise here yet?” Harry asked.

“No, Blaise and his mum arrive fashionably late. And Theo’s father doesn’t like crowds so they only come towards the end of the night. Everyone else from our class and their families should be arriving shortly. You’re the first one,” Draco explained.

“I do like to be punctual,” Harry grinned.

His gaze was constantly scanning the glittering magnificence of Malfoy Manor. Harry was also taking in the assortment of guests. There weren’t just English wizards there were many from Europe as well. Harry recognized the Bulgarian minister, and a notable French duelist.

The ballroom itself was incredible. It was large with the same white marble throughout the rest of the manor, and held tasteful silver and gold decorations. Tables were weighed down with fancy food and drinks. Witches and wizards were already spread out throughout the room but it was not yet as full as it soon would be.

Draco steered Harry directly towards the austere blonde couple speaking with one of the guests.

Draco waited patiently for his parents to finish their conversation before ushering Harry towards them.

“Mother, father, I’d like you to meet one of my close friends, Harry Potter,” Draco announced proudly.

Both Malfoys’ eyes swept over Harry in an assessing manner. Narcissa Malfoy seemed to find him acceptable, her gray eyes were warm by the time they reached Harry’s own hazel. Lucius Malfoy didn’t seem to agree with his wife. The blonde wizard’s eyes were wide in shock as he stared at Harry’s face. His already pale complexion rapidly paled even further.

The elder Malfoy’s expression was remarkably similar to Slughorn’s. Harry reminded Lucius Malfoy of someone, someone he feared. It had to be the same person Slughorn knew. Now who was this person that Slughorn had taught, and Lucius Malfoy was an acquaintance of? Curiosity gnawed at Harry. However, he restrained himself from questioning Draco’s father. He didn’t want to make a poor first impression. The interrogation would have to wait.

Harry plastered on his best smile.

“Lord and Lady Malfoy it is a pleasure to finally meet you both. Thank you for the invitation. The ball is spectacular,” Harry praised.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. I put quite a bit of effort into this little soiree of ours. Draco speaks of you often,” Lady Malfoy eyes were alight, and clearly pleased by Harry’s compliment.

“Mother,” Draco hissed, flushing lightly.

Lady Malfoy smiled, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. Draco has spoken highly of you,” Lord Malfoy added as if speaking by rote.

He still seemed more than a little put off by Harry’s appearance.

“He’s spoken highly of you as well, sir,” Harry attempted to catch the older wizard’s eye. Lucius studiously avoided it.

“We are thrilled to have you here, Mr. Potter. We must speak more at a later date. We have other guests we must see to. You and Draco have a lovely evening,” Narcissa’s smile was genuine.

“Thank you, Mother,” Draco dipped his head. “I’ll introduce you to some of my acquaintances from Durmstrang.”

Harry spent the majority of the night at Draco’s side as he introduced Harry to all sorts of notable witches and wizards. It felt a little like Draco was showing him off but it was in a good way. The blonde wizard was clearly proud to declare Harry as his friend to anyone he could at the ball. It was more than a little flattering.

All of his life Harry the Dursleys had made it quite clear how distasteful they found Harry’s existence. His was to remain unseen and unheard whenever they had guests over. At Hogwarts Harry tended to fade into the background despite his status as the top of their year. This year truly was a huge change in his social situation.

Later in the evening Theo and Blaise finally arrived when the majority of the guests had already left. In fact most of the remaining guests were British families who were former Slytherins, and their children were currently in Slytherin. These were the Malfoys true friends and allies. Harry made a note of all of those in attendance. Most of them were likely to be Death Eaters or supporters of Voldemort.

Harry was chatting with Daphne Greengrass about some advancements in warding techniques. The beautiful witch always seemed to have the most current information on magical advancements.

“I love this song. Do you want to dance with me, Potter?” Daphne asked, smiling up at him.

“Oh, well,” Harry struggled to find a polite way to refuse. Dancing wasn’t his forte. He never had taken Draco up on the offer to teach him a few steps.

“Just one dance, Potter. I’ll even lead,” Daphne offered, coyly batting her eyes. 

Before Harry could answer Draco suddenly materialized at his side. “Harry, I need to ask you something. Sorry, Greengrass but I need to borrow, Harry.”

Draco hooked an arm through Harry’s and tugged him away before the witch could protest.

“Thank you for the heroic save. My knight in shining armor,” Harry added just to make the other flush.

“Of course, I know how much you try to avoid dancing. I did try to give you some dancing lessons before the ball, however, you always managed to slip away,” Draco fighting back the blush on his pale cheekbones.

“I’m very good at getting out of things I don’t want to do,” Harry grinned.

“I’m aware,” Draco rolled his eyes.

The two of them laughed and fell into an easy conversation. Draco’s godfather had yet to arrive, and Draco promised to arrange a later meeting if the wizard didn’t show up.

“Severus dislikes crowds and parties even more than Theo’s father. Mother always invited him to our events and he shows up for about half of them. He often gets lost in whatever project he happens to be working on, and neglects his other obligations,” Draco confided.

“I understand. I’m not one for parties either. I would much prefer practicing my spellwork. I would, however, very much like to discuss spellc— aw!” Harry yelped at the sudden hard tug on his hair.

He twisted quickly around to see what had happened.

“Oh, my sincere apologies, young man,” a tall blonde wizard gasped. “My ring seems to have gotten caught in your hair.”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the wizard’s ring with its large and frankly gaudy black, triangular stone. A few pieces of Harry’s black curls appeared to be lodged in the ring’s casing.

“Right, I can see that,” Harry was more than a little angry. Why was the other wizard’s hand close enough to his head to get stuck in his hair?

“I don’t believe my reflexes are as sharp as they could be at the moment. Too much wine I’m afraid. Narcissa always serves the very best,” the wizard hummed, swaying lightly on his feet.

The wizard’s certainly appeared a little inebriated; his light eyes were slightly clouded over with intoxication.

“You are friends with my parents?” Draco caught on to the wizard’s use of Lady Malfoy’s first name.

“Yes, we’re old friends. I’ve only just moved back to England after some time abroad. Marvolo Gaunt,” the blonde introduced.

“Gaunt?” Harry recognized the name. “Aren’t they the last known direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin?”

“What?” Draco spluttered, eyes wide.

The blonde smirked “Yes, we are. Not many know about the connection.”

“I’ve done some research into different family lines,” Harry shrugged.

He’d been looking into the Potter family tree and then his research branched out from there. The information was buried deep but it was there for those willing to spend the time to find it. Harry could understand why the knowledge of the Gaunts was unknown. They were a disgrace to wizarding kind. The Gaunts had certainly tarnished Salazar Slytherin’s noble name. They’d stopped attending Hogwarts, withdrew from wizarding society, and squandered the fortune they once had.

“I thought the line ended shortly after World War II?” Harry frowned, suspicious of the other wizard.

“Not entirely, we just moved away from England for a time. A Gaunt founded Ilvermorny,” Gaunt explained.

Draco still seemed too awed to be in the presence of a descendant of Salazar Slytherin to join in the conversation.

Harry tilted his head thoughtfully, letting his gaze sweep over the other wizard’s immaculate but bland robes before landing on his face. His features were plain in an almost calculated way. Everything about Gaunt seemed to be perfectly crafted to make sure he didn’t stand out in the crowd. 

“Voldemort is a descendent of Salazar Slytherin. I don’t ever remember hearing if it was through the Gaunts or not,” Harry’s eyes locked with the suddenly sharp gaze of the older wizard.

“Harry!” Draco hissed scandalized, gray eyes darting about to see if anyone else had heard Harry speak Voldemort’s name aloud.

“No, I don’t believe such information has ever been made public,” the blonde smirked, clearly amused.

“How about that,” Harry’s eyes drifted back to his hair stuck in the other wizard’s ring.

Who was this wizard? Could he possibly be the person Harry thought he was? It seemed ridiculous yet Harry’s every sense was telling him this was the case. Why would Voldemort want his hair? And how was Harry going to get it back from him?

“Yes, indeed,” maybe-Voldemort hummed.

“Why do you want my hair, Lord Voldemort?” Harry decided to go with his instincts. There was a reason the Sorting Hat had considered him for Gryffindor.

“Harry,” Draco’s face lost all of its color.

“Draco, run along to your parents. Harry and I need to have a conversation in private,” the wizard waved Draco away, voice imperious.

“My Lord?” Draco gasped. “I… Harry didn’t mean any disrespect. I—”

“Now, Draco,” Voldemort’s tone brokered no argument.

Draco wavered eyes darting between Harry and the Dark Lord.

“It’s all right, Draco. I’ll be fine,” Harry assured his friend.

Draco swallowed and took off towards his parents at a swift pace.

“Shall we, Harry?” Voldemort’s false plain blue eyes bled into a deep crimson.

“Lead the way,” Harry agreed, nerves on fire and magic crackling at being in the presence of the most feared wizard in Europe.

Chapter Text

Voldemort led them away from the ballroom, and into one of the many corridors of Malfoy Manor. 

The dark wizard walked ahead of him, his back completely to Harry without pausing once to glance back at the younger wizard. The move made it obvious that the dark wizard didn’t consider Harry a threat in the slightest. And why would he? 

As they walked Harry could see the other wizard was changing. He couldn’t see Voldemort’s face but the skin of his hands and back of his neck grew paler, and the straight blonde hair darkened to a wavy black-brown. Then there was the wizard’s magic. It unfurled like a dark wave and buffeted up against Harry’s own. 

He’d never been this close to anyone so powerful before. Harry had never had the honor of being in Dumbledore’s direct presence. He’d seen the old wizard from afar in the Great Hall. The closest he’d ever come was when he’d been called to meet Sirius for the first time. But it had been outside and there was a quite a bit of distance between them. Dumbledore hadn’t been close to Harry to give Sirius and he some privacy. 

Harry was surprised by how unafraid he was by the entire situation. In fact he felt a bit invigorated. This was the most exciting thing to happen to him in ages or forever, The Dark Lord’s magic wasn’t hostile, more curious as it probed at Harry’s own. 

The two of them wound their way through the hallways of Malfoy Manor until they came to a grand study that must have belonged to Lucius. Voldemort swept inside as if he owned it, and Harry followed. The doors shut with a wave of the Dark Lord’s hand. Only then did the darkest wizard of the age turn to face Harry. The bland face was gone, replaced with new and shockingly familiar features.

Harry didn’t know what he expected Voldemort to look like. He’d heard through the Slytherin grapevine that his features had been distorted by powerful magics before his fall. Harry certainly never thought he would look like this. 

“I don’t understand,” Harry admitted, he felt like his world was tilting on its axis.

“I find myself in a bit shock as well,” Voldemort sank gracefully into one of the large leather chairs by the fire. He indicated that Harry should join him.

Harry did so, too stunned to even think of arguing, his eyes never leaving Voldemort’s face. Barring a few differences gazing at Voldemort’s face was like looking into a mirror of Harry’s future. The two of them resembled one another much in the same way Lucius and Draco resembled one another. 

How could this be possible?

“Now, you might have a better understanding of why I wanted your hair,” Voldemort plucked the strands of hair from his ring, and folded them into an envelope which proceeded to fly out of the door of the study. 

The entire purpose of confronting Voldemort had been to get his hair back so it couldn’t be used for nefarious purposes. Harry didn’t even try to stop him because he had a very good idea of what Voldemort was using those strands of hair for. 

“You think we’re related?” Harry questioned, it was the most logical conclusion to come to. 

Voldemort had been around for a long time despite the fact he only currently appeared to be in his early 40s. The wizard had proven he was adept at transfiguring his appearance. Was this some sort of ploy? But why would the most powerful dark lord of the age bother taking the time to create such a ruse for Harry? 

Unless they were related. Could he possibly be Harry’s grandfather?

“I had my suspicions. Now, that I see you? The Familia Sanguini is simply a formality at this point,” Voldemort folded his hands beneath his chin and continued to stare at Harry. 

“Why go through the ruse? Why not approach me as you have now?”

“At the time I was merely acting on intuition after Lucius brought you to my attention. I wasn’t expecting you to so clearly resemble myself or be quite so astute.” 

“It wasn’t exactly the best disguise,” Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“You would be surprised. Not even my followers recognized me tonight.”

“If you hadn’t introduced yourself as Marvolo Gaunt I wouldn’t have realized either,” Harry didn’t understand why the wizard had chosen a family name rather than a generic name.

Then again from what he’d heard and learned from the last war, Voldemort wasn’t exactly the most discrete of wizards, and enjoyed flaunting his heritage. 

“You’ve looked quite a bit into my family history. More than my followers have bothered to look. I wasn’t expecting you to have such knowledge or make the association so quickly. Lucius mentioned you were the top of your class. I underestimated your intelligence,” Voldemort looked vaguely impressed.

“I was originally looking into the Potter family tree. They’re descended from the Peverells, and so are the Gaunts. The Potters from the third brother, Ignotus, and the Gaunts the second brother, Cadmus,” Harry explained. 

He’d been looking at different branches of the Potter family tree in hopes of finding magical family members who would be able to take him. Harry hadn’t been successful and resigned himself to being stuck with the Dursleys. 

“Truly?” Voldemort actually appeared surprised by the information. 

Harry nodded, his mind turning over Voldemort’s previous statement about Lucius telling him about Harry. 

“Why would Lucius Malfoy tell you about me? I find it difficult to believe he would bother mentioning a school boy to you especially a half blood one.”

“You’re right he wouldn’t bother unless something concerning caught his attention. I didn’t ask him either,” Voldemort once more looked amused. 

There was something Harry was missing. There was a piece of the puzzle that he hadn’t quite slipped into place yet. His mind raced to make a connection. 

It struck him like a stupefy to the chest.

“Tom Riddle,” Harry whispered, eyes raking over the wizard. “Draco asked his father about Tom Riddle at my request, and all of sudden I’m invited to the Malfoys’ prestigious Yule Ball. 

“What a coincidence,” Voldemort’s scarlet eyes were bright. 

“Coincidence, right. The name meant something to Lucius Malfoy and I bet that’s because it meant something to you. Slughorn called me Riddle the first time he saw me just before he fainted. My appearance startled him so much and now I know it’s because I resemble you so strongly. You’re Tom Riddle.”

It made sense. The wizard’s true name couldn’t possibly be Voldemort. But was it really Tom Riddle? It was a very mundane name, and Harry had already researched the surname Riddle. It wasn’t a wizard surname. Yet it felt right. It felt like Harry had finally solved the mystery of Slughorn’s fear of him. Who wouldn’t be fearful of the young man with a face so similar to the Dark Lord’s?

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed slightly but his head dipped in acknowledgement of Harry’s discovery.

Harry had solved the mystery of Slughorn’s fear, however, it seemed to have led him down a path he wasn’t ready to travel down just yet. But he was here now and ready or not he had the sense he was about to find out something about himself that would change everything.  

///

Voldemort would admit Harry continued to surprise him. 

His first look of the boy left little doubt in his mind of Harry’s origins. The boy looked so much like himself at that age with the exemption of his darker hair and skin, and his hazel eyes. There were a few other hints of James Potter, namely the untamable hair, yet it was clear that Voldemort’s blood was the dominant one in the boy. 

Harry had also inherited his intelligence and magic. The boy made connections quickly, and was clearly quite powerful. Voldemort never thought he’d feel pride in such a thing. Then again he never thought he’d be in such a position. Having children was not something he had ever desired. Voldemort supposed if he were to have a child he was pleased it was one who was clearly better than his followers’ unremarkable progeny. 

Bellatrix wouldn’t be pleased when she found out James Potter had been the first to give him an heir. In fact Voldemort predicted she’d be quite livid. She had offered many times to bear him an heir despite never giving her husband one. 

James Potter, although a Gryffindor and loyal to Dumbledore, had been intelligent and powerful. He came from a very old pureblood family, and was quite wealthy. He had been attractive and capable of outwitting his higher-ranking Death Eaters multiple times. Potter had even faced him several times and escaped.

It’s why Voldemort had chosen to try and personally lure Potter to his side. James Potter hadn’t known who the man he met in the bar was but he’d been surprisingly open to Voldemort’s advances. Potter wasn’t as devoted to his red haired mudblood as he claimed. The dalliances had been going well. Voldemort had even begun to believe he would succeed in pulling James away from the Order, depriving them of a huge resource. 

Then one day Potter simply cut off all contact with him. Voldemort had been utterly enraged over the wasted time and potential. He’d sworn to end Potter slowly the next time he saw him. 

However, when the time arrived to pick between two infant boys born at the end of July, he’d chosen to avoid his failure with Potter and went after the Longbottoms. 

Now, he found the timing suspicious. Harry had been born at the end of July. Potter had abruptly ended their affair less than nine months before. Had James discovered the pregnancy and decided to hide it from him? The Gryffindor hadn’t known who he was. Voldemort had made sure of that. 

Those thoughts were for another time. Now, he needed to assess his son. Voldemort had learned what he could from Lucius. His blonde follower only knew of the things told to him from Draco, and the wizard’s son didn’t seem to be the most reliable source of information about Harry Potter. 

The boy’s infatuation was clear to see. Voldemort had been certain Harry Potter wasn’t as clever or intelligent as Draco Malfoy reported since his information was given under the guise of a schoolboy crush. This is why Voldemort had underestimated his son. Now he reevaluated the things he had been told. 

Voldemort wished he had been capable of being more alert when he inhabited Quirrell’s body. He hadn’t been awake during any of the lessons Quirrell had taught Harry Potter. Quirrell had never given the young wizard any more thought the plethora of other students, and so he was never brought to Voldemort’s attention. 

If only he had been, and this could have all been sorted out years ago. 

“Tom Riddle isn’t a wizard name,” Harry probed.

“No, it isn’t,” Voldemort responded coolly, shutting down any further discussion on the subject.

Harry astutely received the message. 

“Are you my grandfather then? Maybe a distant great uncle?” Harry questioned. 

“No, not an uncle or a grandfather,” Voldemort replied.

“Not my grandfather. We look far too much alike for our relationship to be any more distant,” Harry theorized.

Even with the boy’s intelligence it seemed Harry was unwilling to see what was clearly right in front of him.

Voldemort stared at the boy waiting for him to reach the correct conclusion.

“You can’t be my father,” Harry murmured. 

“I can’t?” Voldemort was amused. 

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. 

“I look like my dad. I have his hair and eyes. But I could never find any similarities to Lily,” Harry’s eyes were distant.

“No, I imagine not.”

“James is my bearer and you’re my father,” Harry’s eyes locked with his own.

At that moment a polite knock sounded against the door. Voldemort called for his follower to enter. Severus swept in with his usual dour continence. The wizard’s black eyes did widened a bit when he caught sight of Harry. 

Voldemort could easily read the curiosity and shock in the wizard’s expressionless mask. 

“The results, Severus?” Voldemort knew it was just a formality at this point. 

“Positive, my Lord. You are father and son,” Severus announced. 

Harry’s face was carefully blank while his eyes told a different story.

Voldemort nodded to his ever faithful potion’s master. “Thank you, Severus. I’m certain this information will remain between the three of us for now.”

“Yes, my Lord. Is there anything else?”

“No, you are dismissed. Go back to the party. It’s almost over and I believe Lucius was looking for you.”

Severus bowed his head and swept from the room.

“How? How are you my father?” Harry questioned once they were alone again. 

Voldemort told him the truth. He told him of his attempt to lure James Potter to his cause. 

“I never saw him again after our last encounter. I had no idea you were my child until Lucius mentioned you asking about my name. How did you come by it?” Voldemort wanted to know. His son had mentioned Slughorn. Was his old potion’s professor giving away his secrets? Voldemort was certain this was why Dumbledore had insisted the old wizard come out of retirement. 

“Slughorn fainted the first time he saw me this year. He’s been avoiding looking at me ever since, and even rescinded my offer to that Slug Club of his. He called me Mr. Riddle right before he fainted and so I did some digging. I came across the name Tom Riddle, and the time frame fit of you attending Hogwarts when Slughorn would have been teaching. I couldn’t find any leads on you after Hogwarts for obvious reasons now. Draco offered to help, and here we are,” Harry shrugged. 

“Here we are,” Voldemort agreed, processing the information. Slughorn had clearly recognized his son but why hadn’t Dumbledore?

“Dumbledore was my old teacher as well. He hasn’t given you any odd stares?” Did the old coot know about the boy?

“I’ve never been around the headmaster. Only once when I was younger, and as I’ve been told my lack of glasses and my hair cut have apparently made a world of difference to my appearance,” Harry grinned, clearly amused by the reactions he’d received. 

Voldemort nodded. He understood and had used his own good looks to his advantage. However, he’d decided later on to craft his more serpentine persona for the frightened masses. Only his Inner Circle knew of his true appearance. 

The dark wizard was relieved Dumbledore didn’t know about Harry. The senile old fool would have tried to turn his own child against him or he would have condemned the boy just like he had Voldemort. 

“So you’re my father,” Harry tested, observing his reaction. 

“It would appear so,” Voldemort nodded.

“What happens now?” Harry’s head tilted curiously. 

The boy’s lack of fear was quite surprising. Or maybe it came from his Gryffindor parent. 

“That is the question, now isn’t?” Voldemort replied. “What would you like to happen?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. What do you want?” Harry countered.

Voldemort accepted the answer. His son was telling him the truth.

“I want you to join me,” Voldemort was certain of this. 

He’d wanted James Potter to join him for his power, wealth, and resources. Harry had all of that. In fact he was more powerful and intelligent. He had the Potter wealth and resources with the added bonus of being Voldemort’s son. 

Voldemort couldn’t allow his son to defy him. The boy would join him or Voldemort would kill him. There were no other options. Harry was too powerful a piece in the coming confrontation to be allowed to be anywhere but at his side. 

The dark wizard would do a great deal to get his son on his side. 

“I wasn’t planning on joining either side of the war,” Harry admitted.

“You have no preference over who wins?” Voldemort questioned. He wanted to know where his son’s views and allegiances lay. 

“Magic is magic. I don’t care about dark or light. I suppose if Dumbledore is successful in besting you then the Ministry will continue to outlaw certain branches of magic. Is it enough for me to join you? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go abroad where I can practice in peace,” Harry answered honestly. 

“I have always held a similar view of magic. However, I do not agree with the idea of simply walking away and letting magic be restricted. I plan to fight and win the right to practice all magic for Britain.”

“What about blood purity?” 

“It’s an easy tool to gather the pure blood loyalty. Though I have no love for muggleborns and I loathe muggles. Muggleborns can be educated but muggles have no place in our world. I’m a half blood,” Voldemort admitted.

His son was already half way to the truth, and if it would put the younger wizard at ease Voldemort was fine in sharing the truth of his origins.  

Surprise flickered over Harry’s familiar features. 

“I’ll think about it,” Harry promised.

“Good, I will give you something for us to communicate. You can ask me any questions. Or if you have questions about magic. Lucius said you are at the top of your class. I found I was often bored of the curriculum and sought out more advanced magic on my own,” Voldemort dangled the offer.

It was the right one for his son’s eyes lit up. 

“I have been trying my hand at spell crafting.”

His son was off, explaining all that he had done so far to reach his goal. Voldemort found himself reluctantly impressed. The two of them fell into an easy and engrossing conversation about various branches of magic. 

Voldemort found himself surprisingly engaged.