Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Action is the bridge between thought and reality.
Richie Norton

Chapter 1

Harry hated his life.

Funny how that worked. Here he was, 25 years old, an Auror like he’d wanted to be since he was 14 years old, and Voldemort was dead in the ground for almost 8 years now.

Everything was exactly as Harry once hoped his future would be, and yet Harry hated his fucking life.

“Let me get that cut,” Jordy Michaels said, pulling up the sleeve of Harry’s red Auror robes to heal the small wound that had stopped bleeding at least half an hour ago. Jordy was a fellow Auror, a half-blood like Harry but ten years older and a bit of an older brother figure for Harry throughout his career so far.

“We’d best get to the King’s Head within the next fifteen minutes or else I’m going to curse someone. Anyone,” Sonia Wainwright said with a huge, dark scowl on her face. She was older even than Jordy but looked younger than him. Harry had never personally checked what she kept in her trousers, but he was absolutely convinced that she had bigger balls than him and Jordy combined. Sonia was a muggleborn with something to prove and that showed in her actions. She was possibly even more reckless than Harry, and that was saying something.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed in agreement while Jordy finished patching him up. Harry got up from his chair, looked around his messy desk if there wasn’t anything that needed his immediate attention and then followed Sonia and Jordy out of the Auror department and through the bowels of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry hated his fucking life.

It had become a mantra over the years that got stuck in his head sometimes, especially after the kind of day he’d had.

For the umpteenth time Mulciber the elder had escaped before they could arrest him. Mulciber the younger had died during the final battle at Hogwarts, but his father, Konrad Mulciber, a contemporary of Tom Riddle during his Hogwarts years, was still at large. The man was old but that didn’t stop him from being slick as a weasel when it came to staying out of the Ministry’s hands.

The problem was that he had help from the inside. The even bigger problem was that they weren’t sure where that help was coming from exactly, so every time they had a lead on Mulciber, the man was either waiting for them with an array of creative but deadly traps at the ready, or he was long gone already. Either way, Mulciber had been at large since the final battle and Harry would really, really like to arrest the fucker someday soon before the Death Eater managed to die a natural death from old age. Mulciber was a known rapist and murderer and deserved to pay for what he’d done.

But he had help, and Harry and his colleagues didn’t have a clue who was feeding him vital information and thus for years they tried but failed to arrest him.

Harry hated his fucking life because nothing had fucking changed.

Oh, sure, Voldemort was dead and they’d won the war against that madman, but ultimately, everything had gone back to the way things had been before the second wizarding war. The Ministry of Magic still ran on nepotism, as did most of the wizarding world. Muggleborns had a hard time getting employment because the wizarding world was a small place and not many jobs opened up at any given time, and when they did people had a tendency to give those jobs to those they knew best, mostly through family connections.

There was a reason Sonia was as reckless and competitive as she was. She’d had to work five times as hard to get where she was compared to the average pureblood. Hermione complained about it all the time as well, how despite her obvious intellect she wasn’t getting the promotions she deserved in the Department of Law enforcement while other, far less talented but better connected colleagues of hers advanced in their careers without any effort.

Ron had gotten out of the Ministry years ago, exactly for those reasons. Ron couldn’t deal with the bureaucracy at the Auror department and the favouritism some people got, and seeing Hermione get rejected time and again for different positions she was more than suited for.

These days Ron worked with George at the shop and he was much happier for it.

Some days Harry envied Ron. Because Harry’s life sucked and Harry had no clue what to do about it.

Some part of him, the naive young man who had killed Voldemort and thought that magically everything would be all right from then on, still wanted to change the world for the better.

Problem was, that the world and the people in it didn’t seem to want those same changes that Harry did.

Kingsley had been a great Minister for Magic, even if he, too, was limited in what he could legally change thanks to a Wizengamot that was run mostly by purebloods and the occasional half-blood. And during the last election Kingsley had been voted out of office. The new Minister, a man named Herman Smutz, reminded Harry uncomfortably of Fudge. Smutz was the same kind of career politician who wouldn’t say no to a bribe or two when it suited him.

But the people of Britain had voted for the useless bastard, apparently happy for everything to go back to how it was before and it fucking sucked. One of Smutz’s promises during his campaign had been to shrink the Auror department in exchange for tax cuts since the war was over and they didn’t need such an extensive law enforcement department anymore. Never mind they were still hunting down a handful of Death Eaters, on top of all the other illegal shit people got up to on any given day.

So now, thanks to Smutz, Harry and his colleagues were in very real danger of losing their fucking jobs. The whole Ministry was a fucking joke.

“The first round is on me,” Sonia yelled over the loud voices around them the moment they entered the King’s Head. It was a pub only a short distance away from the Ministry and it was run by a squib, so lots of ministry personnel ended up there at the end of the day to drink away their frustration.

Harry was a regular at that point and he wasn’t even ashamed to admit it.

Sonia handed him a pint of Carling which Harry gulped down at a rather alarming speed. But who fucking cared? It had been a shit day and Harry wanted to drink away his sorrows in peace. Thankfully Jordy and Sonia desired the exact same thing, so that is what they did for the next three hours. They drank and talked shit about their jobs and then drank some more.

Right before Harry left, he saw Lavender Brown standing with a group of her colleagues from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Lavender gave him a very suggestive wink and for a second Harry was tempted to take her up on her offer. It wouldn’t be the first time. Lavender was pretty, with a nice pair of tits and she knew how to suck a cock better than anyone Harry had ever met. But Harry was drunk and tired and probably couldn’t even get it up at this point, so he gave her an apologetic shrug and made his way out of the pub by himself.

Harry was no cheater, mind you. He and Ginny were on and off in their relationship. Well, if Harry was honest, it seemed that for more than a year now they’d very much been off. Ginny was seeing Dean Thomas regularly, from what Hermione had very delicately told him, and well, Harry had a string of one night stands and something of a friend with benefits in Lavender.

But no matter that Harry enjoyed fucking both men and women, as he’d found out one drunken night when he’d taken a very handsome muggle named Jason up on his offer for a good shagging, Harry had no desire for a steady relationship. He’d tried that with Ginny, but Harry, as it turned out, was a bit of a workaholic who liked to take his frustrations home with him on the nights he didn’t drink them away in a pub first, and those things spelled disaster for any intimate relationship.

Harry wasn’t so drunk yet that he couldn’t apparate, so moments later he stood in front of twelve Grimmauld Place, the house Sirius had left him and which Harry had turned into his home over the years since the war. He’d fixed it up with the help of Ron, Hermione and Kreacher. Bill Weasley had helped, too, to get rid of some of the more nefarious magic that still lingered in some corners, and Harry had learned a lot about wards as he’d helped Bill clean up Harry’s new home.

“Master is being drunk again,” Kreacher said with a disapproving frown the moment Harry stepped into the house. The hallway was no longer dark and gloomy, but looked rustic with its pine wood sideboards and light marble floors. “Master is also missing dinner again.”

“Sorry, Kreacher,” Harry said with a slight slur as he threw his cloak over the coatrack in the corner. “Please bring me a plate in the drawing room.”

Kreacher brought him a plate of steaming shepherd’s pie, and Harry ate it mechanically as he sat on the couch and stared at the wall.

Merlin’s shaggy balls, Harry hated his fucking life.

Was this it? Working for a corrupt Ministry that resisted any serious attempt at improvement, fearing for his job because some bastard politician decided to cut the budget again, failing at relationships because Harry’s head was a fucked up place thanks to a fucked up childhood and a fucked up adolescence and he had no idea how to be a functional human being.

Placing his empty plate on the coffee table, Harry released a deep sigh and sat back in the couch, his head swimming and his thoughts racing.

Harry hated to admit it, but some days he missed good old Voldemort. Life had been so simple when old snakeface had still been around. Oh, it hadn’t been easy, mind you, but it had been simple.

Being an adult, working a frustrating job, coming home to an empty house with only a cranky house-elf for company fucking sucked.

Ever since Harry had realized that he was now older than his parents had ever been, Harry had started wondering what his life would have been like if his parents hadn’t died. If Voldemort had never existed.

From what Harry knew, it wouldn’t be much different than he had now. The Ministry would still be a bureaucratic hell, the world would still run on nepotism, muggleborns would still have trouble even finding work and Harry most likely still would have become an Auror, as his father had been before him.

The only difference would probably be weekly Sunday dinners with his family at his parents’ house where they could all bitch about their frustrating jobs while enjoying a nice roast together.

Fuck, when had Harry become such a fucking cynic? The Ministry had ruined him in ways Voldemort hadn’t been able to, that’s for sure.

Harry fell asleep on the sofa and woke up in his bed. Thank fuck for house-elves. One look at the clock told him he was running late, so Harry jumped out of bed, clutched his head as his hangover made it known it didn’t care for any abrupt movement just yet, and then he shuffled into the bathroom at a much more sedate pace where he discovered, much to his horror, that he was out of hangover cure. Harry was tempted to send Kreacher to the apothecary at once but then he remembered he’d picked up ten new vials just last week, but he’d left them in his desk at work instead of bringing them home with him.

Harry managed a quick shower which did nothing for his pounding headache. Kreacher, that amazing elf, stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a strong cup of coffee, which Harry downed as quickly as he could without burning his mouth, and then he was off to work.

Instead of flooing, which he usually did whenever he ran late, Harry decided to apparate. He knew from bitter experience that his body did not appreciate flooing one bit whenever he was hungover. Harry had the embarrassing memory of throwing up right in the Ministry atrium to prove it. So he apparated to a nearby alley and decided to stop by his favourite coffeeshop to treat himself to a large, strong coffee to help him through the morning, something he did at least a few times a week.

The barista, a muggle his age named Claire who Harry had fucked a few months ago after many weeks of intense flirting, gave him a rather constipated look as she prepared his coffee, but Harry ignored her and rubbed his face a few times to ease his pounding headache, which didn’t help a thing. Coffee would help, so after Harry paid he immediately sipped the steaming cup as he strolled down the muggle street towards the phonebooth. He much preferred that way of entering the building whenever he was hungover then being sucked down a fucking toilet.

Harry’s headache seemed to intensify and his stomach rolled, so he sipped his coffee a little quicker, hoping with all his might he could make it to his desk for the hangover cure before he ended up puking all over the Ministry again.

It wasn’t until his vision started darkening that Harry realized with an icy shiver that whatever was happening to him now wasn’t just his fucking hangover. Harry meant to hurry his steps to the Ministry because he kept a bezoar in his top drawer. He should have had one on his person, he knew that, but he kept losing those fucking things whenever he put one in a pocket, so eventually he’d stopped bothering altogether.

Harry fell face forward on the pavement with a dull thump, his poisoned coffee spilling into the gutter. Some nearby muggles came to his rescue, turning him over and giving him chest compressions, but Harry knew, in the last moments of his life, that it was futile. Only a bezoar would save him now but the muggles didn’t know that.

Darkness seeped in, and Harry was no longer lying on the pavement surrounded by worried muggles, but instead he floated between time and space. He had no body and there was no light, yet Harry felt utterly at peace, which was such a foreign feeling Harry was immediately suspicious of it.

Will you go on? a soft, echoing voice asked him. Or will you live again, Master of Death?

Do his life over again? Harry considered that. There were lots of things he’d do differently if he got another chance. There were lots of people he could save. Sirius, Cedric, Fred, Remus, Tonks, and so many more. Harry may be a cynic nowadays, but once upon a time he’d been a naive little Gryffindor with a saviour complex and some of that old personality still lingered inside Harry and probably always would.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry said or maybe he thought it. At the very least he could save some lives and choose a different path for himself, a path that would steer him clear of the Ministry. Maybe he could teach at Hogwarts? Harry had considered that option for himself when Ron left, but Hogwarts hadn’t needed any new teachers for years now.

Very well. You shall be reborn.

Wait, did that mean he was going to do his whole life over again? Since he was a baby? His whole fucked up childhood at the Dursleys?

But before Harry could question anything else or demand answers, he was suddenly corporal again. He blinked his eyes open and saw a white ceiling and to his right a window covered with curtains. They were printed with a pastel floral print that reminded him of the country rose patterns found on Petunia’s prized porcelain teacups.

Harry pushed the faded yellow blankets back and stepped out of bed and almost tripped when he noticed something he’d never seen on himself before.

There, on his much too small body, were a pair of tits. Nice tits, as far as Harry could tell through the beige nightgown, but still… Harry didn’t have tits. So what were they doing there?

Frozen to the spot, Harry raised both hands and fondled himself through his nightgown. Yeah, they were definitely breasts. Probably a generous c-cup, if Harry had to guess.

Harry turned around and spotted the nightstand, and the empty vial that lay on top of it and at once a storm of memories rushed inside his mind.

Harry wasn’t Harry anymore, as it turned out.

Harry had been reborn as Harriet Hubble, a muggleborn fourth-year Hogwarts student who had just committed suicide by ingesting the same poison someone had used to assassinate Harry. And now Harry had a head full of memories once belonging to poor Harriet Hubble.

Only years of Auror training kept Harry from breaking down in an acute panic right there and then.

Breathe. Just breathe. In and out, and in and out.

Harry managed to sit down on his bed and he buried his face in his hands. Either this was a strange dream while he was in a coma in St Mungo’s, recovering from the poisoning, or he’d genuinely been reborn as someone else.

Somewhere in the great beyond Mad-Eye Moody was throwing an angry fit that an Auror had been so stupid to drink something without checking it for poisons first, and for not keeping one measly bezoar on his person. Harry was deeply ashamed of himself. He now understood that the constipated look on Claire’s face had probably been a sign of the Imperius and that someone, most likely Mulciber, had planned the whole thing to get rid of Harry Potter once and for all.

And what do you know. What Voldemort couldn’t accomplish, Konrad Mulciber had managed after all.

Whatever happened next, Harry swore to check his food and drinks from now on, and to always, always keep a bezoar at hand.

If he’d done that he’d still be alive and not suddenly occupying the body of an unknown teenage girl.

What a fucking idiot he was. Harry had assumed he’d be reborn as himself, but the voice had never explicitly offered that, had it? It had simply asked if he wanted to live again. It had never mentioned a specific identity.

Fuck.

Now he was a girl.

A fucking child, barely 15 years old. Just finished her fourth year at Hogwarts.

Harriet Hubble was a Ravenclaw, a quiet, shy girl without any friends. A good student, but nothing extraordinary. Lonely and full of self-doubt.

And the victim of a sexual assault by Konrad Mulciber, which had driven her to take her own life out of fear and shame. That fucking animal had raped her during the final week before the summer holidays. He had simply stunned her, dragged her into an empty classroom and fucked her while she came to. While he pounded inside of her, he’d threatened her and her entire family if she should ever talk about this. And then he promised to rape her again and again during the rest of her Hogwarts career and beyond, because that was all a little mudblood slut was good for, as a little sex toy for a prized pureblood to use.

Poor Harriet had no one she felt she could turn to while she was relentlessly bullied for being a muggleborn, mostly by Slytherins, since the day she set foot in the castle as a wide-eyed eleven-year-old who was thrilled to be a witch. But it wasn’t just Slytherins who bullied her. There were plenty of Ravenclaws, too, who shunned her and called her names and made her life miserable.

Harry’s blood boiled as he sat on the bed and stared at the opposite wall. Konrad Mulciber was a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet. Harriet Hubble may be dead, but in her place now stood a battle-hardened Auror who would gladly get revenge in the name of a muggleborn child who’d been viciously assaulted.

There came a knock on the door and a second later it opened to reveal Harriet’s mother, Evelyn Hubble.

“Darling, are you up yet?” Evelyn Hubble noticed her daughter’s slumped posture and looked at her with a concerned frown. “Is everything alright?”

Harry swallowed and nodded, deciding to play along. If he was in a coma, it didn’t matter what he did, but Harry had a feeling this might actually be happening so playing the part of Harriet Hubble was in Harry’s best interest. “Yes, mother. Just a bad dream. I’ll get dressed right away.”

“Good, because the first patients are arriving soon, and I need you to run to the market and get potatoes. We’re out again, what with these new restrictions.” Evelyn gave her daughter a brief nod and closed the door.

Harriet’s parents were muggles. Martin Hubble was a doctor, a general practitioner in the town of Swansand-upon-the-sea in Devon, and Evelyn helped him with administrative work in his practice. Harriet had an older brother, Vincent Hubble, who had just joined his father in the practice as a doctor as well, fresh out of university. Harriet also had two older sisters, Margaret who’d recently gotten married to a man named Robert Merritt, an accountant in a nearby city, and Edith, who’d joined the Women’s Land Army, also known as the land girls and she was currently stationed in Essex to help with the war effort in the only way she could.

Fucking hell, it was the middle of the second world war. Harry sighed as he pushed himself up from his bed. He knew from his primary school history lessons that Britain had never been invaded, so he didn’t have to worry about that, but the Germans had rained bombs on their heads for years and years, so that was something to be concerned about perhaps.

Not that Harry had time to worry about the war because he’d just had a realization.

It was the summer of 1942.

Tom Riddle was alive and well and was about to become a prefect during the upcoming year at Hogwarts.

Fucking hell. What was Harry supposed to do about that?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Yeah, no, Harry had no time to think about bloody Tom Riddle being alive and well. Not yet, at least. He still had the whole summer to come up with something of a plan to deal with his prophesized enemy. Right now he needed to get his life as Harriet Hubble organized.

First thing he needed to fix was the charm that prevented him from performing magic as an underage person. Harry pulled Harriet’s Hogwarts trunk from the built-in closet and rummaged through it until he found her potions supplies. Harriet was quite talented at potions and kept a neat collection of ingredients, and Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief when he realized there were enough of the right ingredients to brew a quick aging potion.

First things first, he needed to get dressed before Harriet’s mother really got suspicious of why her daughter was suddenly acting against character.

Thanks to Harriet’s memories, Harry had no problem locating the bathroom and he pulled the nightgown over his head and stared at his new body in the mirror over the sink.

Harriet wasn’t a knock-out beauty, perhaps, but she was quite pretty in her own right, Harry decided. Her face was round, with a delicate little nose and nicely shaped lips. Her eyes were large and green, and her hair dark.

In fact, there was something of a resemblance with Harry’s old face. Not enough to be counted as siblings perhaps, but they could pass as cousins without a problem. Harriet’s long hair, that she always kept in a simple braid down her back, was more of a deep, dark brown than Harry’s pure black hair had been. And Harriet’s green eyes were a shade lighter than Harry’s original ones. Harriet had her father’s eyes. Martin Hubble was a ginger, though his hair was more of a reddish blond than the deep red of the Weasleys, and his eyes had the exact same shade of pale green as Harriet’s.

Harriet’s breasts were very nice, and Harry couldn’t resist running his hands across them a few times, pinching the nipples, until he remembered that he was a 25-year-old man fondling the body of a 15-year-old girl and then he quickly drew his hands back and shuddered. But moments after that he remembered that he wasn’t a 25-year-old man anymore. He was a 15-year-old girl, so perhaps feeling up his own body was fine?

Ugh. Body swaps were a fucking nightmare, and unfortunately nothing in Harry’s extensive Auror training had prepared him for this kind of situation.

Harry simply decided to ignore the whole gender change for now. He pulled down his pink knickers, sat down on the toilet and peed. It was a decidedly strange activity to do without a penis, but Harry firmly ignored that as well.

Thankfully, the Hubbles were quite well off, and their home had all the modern amenities that were available in the 1940s, such as running hot and cold water and an indoor toilet. There was no toilet paper, however, only a small basket with strips of torn up newspaper. Harry stared at it for a moment until he remembered that they were in fact living in the middle of a war and paper was heavily regulated and certainly wouldn’t be wasted on wiping people’s arses with, so old bits of newspaper it was. Harry was happy to note that the newspaper was made of a softer kind of paper than he was used to in the future and that wiping with it wasn’t a hardship at all.

Harry still firmly ignored his lack of penis. He had more important things to deal with. He quickly washed his face and body with a washcloth and the only bar of soap available, brushed his teeth with a jar of tooth powder that hardly had any flavour at all, and then hurried back to Harriet’s bedroom to get dressed.

As he stood in front of Harriet’s wardrobe, he was in for a bit of a surprise. Harriet had been a very big fan of skirts. Most women in that time wore skirts and dresses exclusively, but there were trousers available for women in certain jobs. Harry remembered that Edith, Harriet’s older sister had gleefully sown a few sturdy trousers for herself once she was accepted in the Women’s Land Army.

Ah, fuck it. Harry had dealt with much crazier shit in his life, after all. So while he squared his shoulders, Harry wrestled his new body into a bra and a pair of white knickers and then got dressed in a blue, knee-length skirt and a pastel yellow blouse with short sleeves. It was the summer after all. He completed the whole thing with some white cotton socks and black flats.

There, that should do. His priority now was an aging potion.

The trace, which was placed on all Hogwarts students the moment they entered the castle every year they attended, automatically broke when a person turned 17. The way to get it to break early was to fool it that the person had turned 17, and Harry knew this could be accomplished by a simple aging potion. Of course, no one told the Hogwarts students this, but for most adults this was an open secret they learned the moment they finished school and other adults told them.

Harry took Harriet’s cauldron and the necessary ingredients down to the kitchen with him and set it on the still warm coal stove. Evelyn had left a bowl of oatmeal in the oven for Harriet, which Harry ate quickly as he lay out the ingredients he needed.

As it turned out, Harry was quite good at potions once he no longer had Snape looming over his shoulder or Malfoy throwing stuff into his cauldron. On top of that, Harry had successfully sat his NEWTs, potions included. Kingsley had been happy to give him and Ron a chance to start Auror training early, but they were told immediately that they were expected to sit their NEWTs at the first opportunity. Harry had grumbled and complained, as had Ron, but they had eventually applied themselves and they’d both received their NEWTs in transfiguration, potions, charms, herbology and defence almost a year after starting Auror training. Some years later Harry had, on his own, decided to study runes and arithmancy as well, since it came back often in his line of work when they were taking down wards or breaking curses. Hermione had been more than happy to help get him started, but once Harry understood the basics he was able to study on his own and sit both his OWLs and NEWTs for those two subjects as well.

So brewing a simple aging potion wasn’t a problem for Harry at all. While the potion simmered, Harry took care of a few chores he knew Harriet was expected to perform, like doing the dishes and sweeping the floors.

Harry downed the potion and didn’t notice much of a change in his new body. It didn’t grow much in any direction, but once he looked in the mirror he did notice that his face had lost some of its childish roundness and looked a bit more mature, but that was it, really. The effects would only last a few hours, since Harry had brewed the potion at half strength. He only needed to be 17 for a brief moment to get the result he wanted.

And now to see if he’d managed to break the trace. Harry pulled out Harriet’s wand and summoned a nearby dishcloth. A summoning charm could be easily explained away as a Hogwarts student forgetting they were home again and automatically using a charm in their daily lives by accident. Harry assumed an aging potion would break the trace even in the past, but one never knew if things were different in the 1940s.

But as Harry took care of a few more chores, like polishing the coal stove and collecting all dirty linens to put outside for the washing woman to collect, no letter came from the Ministry to tell Harriet Hubble she’d been a naughty girl.

Harry released a deep, relieved sigh. Now he could use magic and he could set his new life up. He needed a few things, such as some money and a safehouse. Thankfully, Harry had a few ideas how to get both without breaking too many laws.

Harriet knew where her mother kept an emergency stash of cash, and Harry dug around in Evelyn’s sewing basket until he found the small wallet that held twenty or so one pound notes. Harry wasn’t familiar with the exact rate of inflation, but he did know that 20 pounds in the 1940s translated to at least 500 pounds in the 2000s, if not more. Of course, Harry had every intention of paying Evelyn back the money he took as soon as possible.

There was a rather pressing matter Harry had to take care of, though. Thanks to that monster Mulciber, Harry’s new body might have had unprotected sex within the last week. Harriet had woken up halfway through the act and had no idea if Mulciber had cast any protection charms. The last thing Harry needed was an unwanted pregnancy. Thankfully there was a simple potion one could take up to two weeks after the sex had taken place, that would painlessly take care of the problem. But it required a few obscure ingredients that an average Hogwarts student didn’t keep in their kit, so Harry needed to visit Knockturn Alley, where they didn’t ask their customers annoying questions.

Besides that, Harry wanted to brew a few standard healing potions, and he was going to stock up on bezoars.

Not making that mistake ever again.

As Harry put away Harriet’s potions supplies in her trunk, he realized that there were quite a few potions that weren’t invented yet in that day and age. Harry sat back on his arse in the middle of Harriet’s room, staring at the wall while his mouth dropped open.

This was a way to secure his financial future in the long run, wasn’t it? Just ‘invent’ a new potion every couple of years until he ran out of recipes from the future. New potions came with exclusivity rights that lasted 20 years. During that time a potioneer could keep the recipe to themselves and exclusively brew the potion either by setting up their own potions company, or by leasing the recipe to an existing company and earning a nice little commission for every sale.

And Harry knew a few potions that held global appeal, such as the modern blood-replenishing potion that wouldn’t be invented until the seventies, and even the hangover cure that Harry used so frequently wouldn’t be invented until the sixties.

Fuck. Harry was sitting on a goldmine, as long as he didn’t mind stealing other people’s ideas.

Maybe, once upon a time, naive little Gryffindor Harry would have objected to the idea of passing off other people’s potions as his own, but mature Auror Harry, who had ended up hating his fucking life and most of the wizarding world along with it, couldn’t really be bothered by that idea.

Anyway, the whole point wasn’t even up for consideration yet, anyway, because Harry had to wait until he finished Hogwarts before introducing any new potions to the world. Doing so while still a Hogwarts student would draw far too much attention to himself that Harry desperately wanted to avoid.

Because that was something Harry now realized. He had anonymity. For the first time ever, Harry was a complete nobody. He wasn’t on anyone’s radar, except for a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws who enjoyed bullying poor Harriet. But Harry seriously doubted that even Konrad Mulciber, poor Harriet’s rapist, actually knew her name. All they saw her as was a Ravenclaw mudblood, someone barely even human to begin with.

Harry understood all too well that this anonymity was his greatest strength, because no matter what shady shit he ended up doing, no one would suspect Harriet Hubble, the quiet, lonely Ravenclaw muggleborn.

First things first, though, Harry needed to ensure Mulciber hadn’t left any surprises inside his new body. Harry got up from the floor and grabbed Harriet’s Hogwarts winter cloak, which he transfigured into a lighter, stormy grey cloak with a large hood which would hide his features. Harry didn’t want anyone to wonder why a Ravenclaw muggleborn was visiting apothecaries in Knockturn Alley.

Drawing the cloak around himself, Harry apparated to Diagon Alley. Harriet’s wand was made of cypress wood with a phoenix feather core and Mr Ollivander had looked quite surprised that mousy little Harriet had matched with that specific wand. Perhaps Harry was fated to replace poor Harriet and that’s why she’d ended up with a wand that represented death and rebirth in such an obvious way.

Diagon Alley wasn’t very crowded this early in the summer, and Harry hurried his way through the alley while he kept his head down. He briefly stopped at Gringotts to exchange his muggle pounds into galleons before turning left towards the shadowy corner that housed the more questionable parts of wizarding society. Right before entering Knockturn Alley Harry threw up his hood and rushed straight to the apothecary. The clerk behind the counter barely paid him any attention while Harry collected all the ingredients he needed for the pregnancy prevention potion, and a few more healing potions he wanted to keep on hand. He also bought five bezoars, but even that didn’t bother the clerk.

Harry briefly apparated back to Harriet’s house to pick up her brewing supplies before he apparated to Murder Cottage.

It was an abandoned muggle cottage that was part of a larger estate a town over. It was situated on the back of the estate, hidden by a few rolling green hills and a small piece of woodland. Rumour had it that the cottage was haunted because some hundred years ago a man had murdered his wife and her lover there when he caught them fucking. Harry had no clue if any of this was true, but if there were any ghosts hanging around the place Harry would simply talk to them. If they proved hostile, Harry could always exorcise them. But for now Murder Cottage would do as a hidden place where Harry could brew his potions in peace without having to explain what he was doing to Harriet’s parents.

Harry cast a few quick muggle repelling wards, plus some simple privacy wards, and then inspected the cottage. It was in decent enough shape considering that it had reportedly sat abandoned for a century. Most windows were broken, since the local kids liked to throw rocks at the cottage to prove how brave they were to taunt the ghosts that haunted the place. Harry had memories of Harriet and her siblings doing the same on more than one occasion. But aside from that the outside of the white cottage was intact, and the inside, while a mess of dust and rocks, was easily fixed up.

But that had to wait for later. Harry knew he wanted to brew the pregnancy prevention potion first thing, because until he took it he wouldn’t be able to relax and really think about any future plans.

Brewing it didn’t take more than half an hour and once the potion was bubbling away, Harry sorted through the rest of the ingredients he’d bought, putting them away in Harriet’s collection. It was Bill who had taken Ron and Harry aside at some point during the summer after the final battle and had made them memorize the recipe for this potion, along with a few others dealing with sex and human reproduction. He’d even tested them and everything, explaining that any witch or wizard should know those kind of potions by heart, because once you needed them you couldn’t rely on finding the right book that held the recipe or finding a potioneer to brew it for you.

At that very moment, Harry was enormously grateful for Bill Weasley.

Thinking back to Bill also made Harry think about his other friends. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, George and many of his colleagues such as Jordy and Sonia.

Suddenly Harry missed them with an intensity that made his chest ache because he realized that if this was all real, that if he wasn’t stuck in a coma in St Mungo’s, then he’d never see his friends again.

Harry was truly alone in the world, and that made his throat close up until Harry swallowed quite a few times to get rid of that annoying lump.

Yeah, not thinking about that, either.

Harry downed the cooled down potion and shivered for a moment before all his limbs relaxed and he heaved a big sigh. There. That pressing problem was taken care of, and now Harry could truly start planning for the future.

Problem was, of course, that Harry had never been much of a planner in any capacity. Thankfully, Harriet kept a notebook and a self-inking quill in her potions kit because she had been a meticulous notetaker. Harry conjured a simple wooden chair and table and sat down to make a list of shit he needed to do.

A few pressing matters were money and a safehouse. Murder Cottage would probably do quite well as a safehouse once Harry fixed it up and put it under a Fidelius.

After the second wizarding war Harry had received a few gifts from some generous witches and wizards, one of them being a small hunting cottage in the Scottish Highlands. With the help of Ron and Hermione, Harry had put it under the Fidelius and shared the secret with them. All three of them remembered how miserable living in a tent had been when they hadn’t been able to turn to anyone for help, and all three of them wanted to avoid a repeat of such a thing at all cost.

If Harry really had died in his previous life, Ron and Hermione had just inherited that cottage, Harry thought with a wry smile. Grimmauld Place had gone to Teddy. And Harry’s Potter vault had been divided up amongst most of his friends, with Teddy getting the lion’s share from the Black vaults, with the rest going to Andromeda. Then again, if Harry truly had been reborn in the past, then the future as it had been no longer existed, because Harry planned to change a few important things.

One of them was getting rid of that fucking basilisk before Riddle could discover its existence and unleash it on the school. Harry was certain he remembered the most important points about Riddle’s life in vivid details, and he wrote them down in the notebook. At the end of his fifth year Riddle had killed Myrtle using the basilisk, and then he’d murdered his father and grandparents during the summer, before stealing the resurrection stone from Morfin Gaunt.

Thankfully, killing a basilisk wasn’t hard, as long as you took a cockerel with you and had an element of surprise. The problem was getting into the Chamber of Secrets. It required parseltongue. Harry had been a parselmouth, and he’d kept that talent even after the horcrux in his scar had been destroyed, but he doubted he’d kept that skill in a brand-new body.

Well, only one way to find out. Harry aimed his wand towards one of the open windows and summoned the closest snake. A flailing grass snake came flying through the window.

”Who dares pull me away from my hunt?” the snake demanded as Harry levitated it above the table.

Yeah, all right, he was still a parselmouth. ”Sorry, my mistake,” Harry hissed and banished the snake back to where it came from. It made sense, perhaps, if you considered that Harry’s soul had been reborn in a new body. Parseltongue was a skill Harry had acquired from a piece of Voldemort’s soul, so it wasn’t an impossibility that it had carried over with Harry’s soul during a rebirth.

The second problem was getting into Hogwarts unseen.

Hm.

That voice had called Harry the ‘Master of Death’, hadn’t it? Could that perhaps mean that he was still the master of the three hallows? Could that perhaps also mean that he might be able to summon those objects for his own use?

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could on the invisibility cloak. He gave it all he had, mentally, to bring the cloak to him. When he opened his eyes, his lap was still empty.

Ah well, you couldn’t win them all. For now, the invisibility cloak was still in possession of Harry’s grandfather, Fleamont Potter, and Harry very much doubted he’d give it up to some muggleborn nobody claiming to be his reborn grandson from the future. Besides, Harry had no desire to share his unusual experience with anyone. Wizards got really uptight about time travel of any kind and Harry didn’t want to end up in the Department of Mysteries as a prisoner.

So Harry would simply have to break into Hogwarts using a disillusionment charm. These days Harry was very good at casting those, though, thanks to his Auror training. He also knew the secret passageway between Honeydukes and the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third floor already existed, so Harry should be able to sneak into the castle without any issues.

Harry frowned as he tapped his quill against he notebook. Perhaps going after the basilisk was better left until a later date, once he got a relationship established with the goblins. Harry wanted to butcher the basilisk once he killed it, and the goblins were experienced in selling parts of rare magical beasts and guaranteed anonymity for the seller. Of course, this came at a price, but Harry was happy to pay that to keep himself out of the spotlight while his vault filled up with gold.

But there was another treasure waiting at Hogwarts to be discovered and sold off.

After the war, he, Ron and Hermione had often bemoaned the loss of all the things that had been burned in the Room of Requirement. Old books, furniture, artifacts, wands, antique brooms and who knows what else. It had all been lost.

But now Harry was in the perfect position to empty that room, keep what he wanted of the items he found and sell off the rest. He could do it first thing, and quickly earn back the money he’d borrowed from Evelyn and be left with some gold for himself. Probably enough to open a Gringotts vault, and once he had one of those he could slay the basilisk and really cash in.

Yeah, that was what Harry was going to do.

Then he remembered he’d promised to pick up potatoes for Harriet’s mother, so he should probably do that first. But afterwards, he was breaking into Hogwarts.

Harry added a few strong locking charms on the doors of Murder Cottage and took a moment to fix all the broken windows. That way he could leave his potions supplies there, instead of having to haul them back and forth all the time. He did make sure to tuck at least one bezoar in the small pocket of his skirt.

Swansand-upon-the-sea was a lovely little market town with a small port. There was a local farmer’s market being held in the town’s square where Harry could buy what he needed. He apparated to a dark, forgotten corner behind the churchyard and strolled towards the market. Being stuck in the past was a revelation. Harry spent most of his adult years in the wizarding world, but he’d grown up in the muggle world and he still liked to visit a muggle pub or a muggle club from time to time, so he had a very good idea how bloody different the muggle world suddenly looked.

There were very few cars around, for one. And there were a lot more bicycles. And people dressed in ways Harry had only ever seen in history books. Women’s hairdos especially looked very different.

When a woman passing him greeted him cheerfully, Harry almost went for his wand out of sheer shock and surprise. No muggle ever greeted him. Everyone in Little Whinging had thought him a child criminal thanks to Petunia’s gossip machine, and everyone in London minded their own fucking business and didn’t bother complete strangers on the street. But in the 1940s it was apparently perfectly normal to greet each other, so Harry returned the gesture and tried to keep a polite smile on his face. It might have ended up looking like a grimace because Harry was not used to smiling all the fucking time. He generally had very little to smile about.

Buying their meagre share of potatoes didn’t take very long, and Harry quickly walked back to the churchyard and apparated home.

“Harriet, is that you?” Evelyn called from the kitchen as Harry entered the house.

“Yes, I have the potatoes,” Harry called back, showing Evelyn the sack before storing it in the cupboard.

“We’re having some leftover soup for lunch.” Evelyn stirred a pot on the stove, and Harry set the table. Just as he was done, Martin and Vincent joined them and Harry sat at the table with Harriet’s family and quietly enjoyed a bowl of vegetable soup with a slice of buttered bread on the side. Martin and Vincent talked about the war and whether or not Vincent would be getting a letter to join the military as a doctor. Evelyn paled significantly during that conversation, and Harry realized there was a very real chance she might lose her child if Vincent got drafted. So many young men hadn’t made it home again, after all.

Harry remained quiet for the most part, which wasn’t unusual for Harriet, who’d been a quiet sort of girl. Afterwards, Harry helped Evelyn with the dishes before Evelyn disappeared back to the doctor’s office and Harry was free to break into Hogwarts.

It really was a simple affair. Harry apparated to Hogsmeade, cast a disillusionment spell on himself, snuck down to Honeydukes’ cellar and lowered himself through the trapdoor. A brisk walk later, he squeezed himself out from behind the statue of the humpbacked witch and strolled towards the seventh floor. Harry reasoned that since he was an actual student of Hogwarts, the wards wouldn’t make a fuss about him being inside the castle, summer holiday or not.

He didn’t meet anyone on his way to the Room of Requirement, and Harry asked for the room with all the hidden things as he paced in front of the correct part of the wall. A door appeared and Harry soon found himself surrounded by lots and lots of junk.

Oh, there was treasure there as well, but mostly it was junk. Still, junk could be fixed and sold just as well, so Harry wasn’t going to turn his nose up at any of the stuff. He commanded the room to sort through all the items, grouping things like trunk and bags together, which Harry promptly turned into bottomless storage spaces with the necessary expansion charms. And then he could really start sorting through the mess around him.

He waved his wand again and again and loaded up all the books, clothes, wands, brooms, jewellery, money, anything made of precious metals, paintings, artifacts and various household items. He also selected the nicest of the furniture, some to sell and some to use to decorate Murder Cottage.

Harry didn’t linger once he had the most valuable items loaded up. He could always come back, but for now he would take it all back to Murder Cottage, sort through it carefully, check everything for curses, and then sell a few items at a time as not to arouse suspicion why a fifteen-year-old muggleborn suddenly had so much magical stuff in her possession. He didn’t even need to sell it all this summer. He just needed enough money to pay back Evelyn, open a Gringotts vault and have some spending money for himself for the coming year. Everything else could stay hidden away inside Murder Cottage.

Harry made the walk back to the third floor already feeling a little lighter. His plans were starting to take shape and at the very least he now had enough items in his possession to keep himself financially independent until the end of his Hogwarts years, should the whole kill the basilisk plan fall through for some reason.

The journey back to Honeydukes was long and boring, but Harry made it to Hogsmeade without anyone being the wiser he’d been inside Hogwarts at all. A quick apparition later, and Harry could start unloading and sorting through all the items in Murder Cottage in peace and quiet, until it was time to go back to Harriet’s home for dinner.

Sharing another meal with Harriet’s family was much the same as lunch had been. Harry ate his plate of potatoes, carrots and onion mash, with a hardboiled egg on the side. Not the most amazing food he’d ever had, but he understood it was wartime and they should be grateful they had fresh, nutritious food to eat at all. Harry helped Evelyn with the dishes again.

“Darling, could you take over preparing dinner from now on?” Evelyn asked as Harry dried a plate with a dishtowel.

“Of course, Mother,” Harry replied, because that was the answer Harriet would have given. Harry could cook, had cooked for years when living at the Dursleys. And he had Harriet’s memories to help him prepare the kind of meals that were appropriate for the time. But it would take up a lot of time he'd rather spent on other projects.

Hm.

Kreacher had always cooked for him ever since Harry moved into Grimmauld Place right after the end of the war. So Harry had no idea how to cook with magic. But cooking with magic would save him enormous amounts of time. Perhaps he should keep an eye out for any cookbooks in his newly acquired library. And if he couldn’t find anything in that eclectic collection, he could always visit some second-hand bookstores in Diagon and Knockturn Alley and spend a few knuts on some magical cookbooks.

After dinner they all had tea in the sitting room where Harry sat down on the couch beside Harriet’s brother. Evelyn cleared her throat and gave Harry a pointed look, flicking her eyes up and down, until Harry realized she was pointing out that Harry was sitting with his legs spread wide. He immediately closed them and offered Evelyn a small, apologetic smile. Evelyn shook her head, but smiled in return.

Vincent challenged Harry to a game of chess, and while Harry had never been a natural at that particular game, Harriet apparently had a better head for strategic thinking, because Harry managed to win two out of the three games they played together, much to Vincent’s obvious disappointment.

That was interesting to contemplate, how having a new set of brains to work with did change some of Harry’s natural talents.

And thinking of natural talents reminded Harry that he should make an effort to become an Animagus again. It had taken Harry and Hermione a full year to accomplish, but they’d both become animagi. Ron had passed on the opportunity once he realized how bloody complicated and involved the whole thing was. Hermione ended up as a pine marten, and Harry as a red kite, a graceful bird of prey with a deep red colour and a distinctly forked tail. Being able to turn yourself into a bird and fly away was a very useful skill to have if you ever found yourself in a dangerous situation. Harry doubted this skill would have carried over after his rebirth, though, since it was a physical transformation that took place over many different parts of the process.

And later, when Harry was alone in his bedroom and he tried to transform, he was not at all surprised when it didn’t work. So, again going through the whole complicated process of becoming an Animagus it was.

The next day, Harry woke up from Evelyn’s gentle knock on the door and he immediately got his day started because he had plenty to do. He was less surprised to see his breasts this time, but he still felt very weird about his distinct lack of penis.

Evelyn had left him another bowl of oatmeal, which Harry quickly devoured. Afterwards, he used magic to get all his cleaning chores done in record time and then he apparated straight to Murder Cottage. The full moon was only six days away, so Harry made a note to buy a mandrake leaf. Keeping a mandrake leaf in your mouth from one full moon until the next a month later was the first step in becoming an Animagus.

Harry got to work sorting through the biggest items. There were some very nice, antique brooms that Harry was sure he could sell for some good money. He did keep the newest broom, a Star Sweeper at least 20 years old, for himself, though. It flew decently, even if it was very slow compared to the kind of brooms Harry was used to. But it would come in handy once he went down into the chamber to kill the basilisk.

While Harry still loved playing Quidditch, he had no intention of trying out for the Ravenclaw team. That would draw far too much attention to himself.

He also came across a few pieces of jewellery that he could sell. One piece, a brooch with what looked like a large sapphire in the middle surrounded by small diamonds might just be worth quite a bit of money. Harry kept a few simple rings, bracelets and necklaces, mostly the silver ones, but also one or two gold ones. Jewellery like that could easily be used to enchant with protective spells and such, which Harry planned to do in the future.

Harry had lunch with Harriet’s family again, and afterwards he apparated to Diagon Alley to sell some brooms and jewellery. He told the shopkeeper some sob story how a distant relative had passed away and had left all sort of strange antiques to his favourite cousin. The owner of the antiques shop bought it easily enough and was very happy to take the brooms. When Harry showed him the brooch and a few more jewellery items, the man got downright explosive with enthusiasm and eagerly engaged Harry in a battle of negotiation.

In the end Harry walked out of the store with a bag filled with almost 50 galleons. That might not seem like much, but from what Harry had seen what everyday items cost in both the muggle and wizarding world, those 50 galleons were worth at least 5000 pounds in 2005 money. The sapphire brooch was responsible for 30 galleons all by itself. Still, not bad for a few antique items from the Room of Requirement.

Harry immediately hopped inside Gringotts and opened a vault in Harriet Hubble’s name. He didn’t want to have to walk around with such a large sum of money. He kept ten galleons as spending money for the rest of the summer, had enough exchanged into muggle pounds to pay Evelyn back her twenty 1 pound notes, and put the rest in his new vault.

“I might come across a large magical beast one of these days, and I’d be interested in selling its parts,” Harry told Steelclaw, the goblin who had set up his new vault for him.

“What sort of beast?” Steelclaw asked with a shrewd look.

“A 1000-year-old basilisk,” Harry said with a cocky grin.

Steelclaw narrowed his eyes, as though thinking Harry was having him on. “If you were to get your hands on a beast like that, we could sell it for 30 percent of the profits.”

Harry quickly shook his head. “No. I’ll give you 15 percent.”

Steelclaw’s eyes narrowed even further until they were mere slits. “We’ll take 25.”

“I’ll give you 20 percent if you write up a contract right now,” Harry said, knowing that was the usual percentage goblins expected on most of such transactions.

“Consider it done,” Steelclaw said, reaching for a piece of parchment. “All proceedings are to be deposited in your new vault, I assume?”

“Just so,” Harry said with a satisfied smile. That was another thing he could cross off his list.

After his business was done in the bank, Harry pulled on his cloak, making sure the hood hid his face, and he sauntered into Knockturn Alley. He got a single mandrake leaf from the apothecary, and then he decided to stop by the second-hand bookstore while he was there, to look for some cookbooks and whatever else he could find that caught his interest. Then again, perhaps he should go easy on buying books, since he had a mountain of them waiting for him at Murder Cottage and he should probably sort through those first.

Harry pushed the door of the bookstore open, the bell above it giving a cheery jingle as he stepped inside, and then he almost walked straight back out again when he saw Tom Riddle sitting behind the counter, nose buried in a book.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Harry’s obvious hesitation when entering the store wasn’t a real problem, Harry decided as he shuffled inside. It was expected of a young muggleborn to be nervous while shopping in Knockturn Alley. The hood of his cloak hid his face, but it would be easy enough to tell that his body was that of a small female.

And even if Harry’s face got exposed, that wouldn’t be an issue. It was expected that a Ravenclaw went in search of knowledge inside Knockturn Alley sooner or later. Harry had been quite shocked when Luna told him at some point that she and her father were frequent visitors of Knockturn Alley and had been for as long as she could remember, and that they certainly weren’t the only Ravenclaws to do so. There were some excellent places to find second-hand books there and the prices tended to be a bit better than Diagon Alley. In hindsight, perhaps Harry shouldn’t have been surprised, seeing that Xenophilius had managed to get his hands on an erumpent horn at some point and such a thing was exactly the kind of illegal shit you could buy in Knockturn Alley if you knew where to look.

At any rate, Harry should be safe to shop in a store where Tom Riddle seemed to be working for the summer. Harry only knew that Riddle had been employed at Borgin and Burkes after he’d finished Hogwarts, but it made sense he would have looked for a summer job as soon as he could, to earn a bit of spending money and to get out of that orphanage as often as possible.

Riddle barely glanced up from the book he was reading, and he had it angled in a way that Harry couldn’t make out a title. Harry aimed for the nearest bookshelves and started browsing. He was looking for cookbooks, but if he found something else useful he’d pick it up as well, within reason. He didn’t want to delve into any subjects that might pique Riddle’s interest once he rang up Harry’s purchase.

Harry quickly found a book full of magical cooking techniques and beginner’s recipes, and a book about magical gardening that had a huge section on growing vegetables with magic. Harry knew Harriet’s family had a large kitchen garden that went a bit neglected, since Martin and Evelyn were very busy with their jobs. Perhaps Harry could oversee it with a bit of magic to get it to perform much better. What with the food shortages, having their own successful vegetable garden would be a real boon for the family.

After browsing his way through some basic charms books Harry found a real treasure. It was as thick as two bricks stacked together and looked about a hundred years old. The leather cover was stamped with gold-embossed letters that said: Mrs Ashford’s Complete Compendium for the Frugal Household.

Harry might have actually gasped in delight at finding such a tome. As he paged through it he learned that the book covered pretty much any kind of magic the frugal witch or wizard needed to run a home. Cooking charms, cleaning charms, spells to sew or mend clothing, building charms and gardening spells, and much, much more. Harry didn’t care what the price of that book was, he was getting it because it was the answer to all his current magical shortcomings. He decided there and then that Mrs Ashford was his new personal hero.

Harry figured he’d give the shop another quick browse to see if he’d missed anything interesting before heading home. This brought him closer to the counter and thus to Riddle. Harry pretended to look through some books on enchanting while he glanced at Riddle from under his hood.

Fucking hell, but Riddle really was a handsome devil.

Over the years Harry had sometimes wondered if during that time he’d met a teenaged Tom Riddle, at the end of his second year, he hadn’t imagined how good-looking Riddle had been. No, Harry could now say, without any doubt, that Riddle was the most handsome man he’d ever seen, even if he was currently a fifteen-year-old boy still growing and maturing.

Harriet’s memories of seeing Riddle around Hogwarts for the past four years thoroughly agreed with his assessment. Poor Harriet had even had something of a crush on Riddle. It was nothing serious, simply the feelings of a growing girl when confronted with a very handsome boy she saw walking by on a daily basis. They were probably the kind of feelings every living soul (and perhaps a few dead ones) in Hogwarts felt towards Riddle, save for Albus Dumbledore.

But fucking hell, Harry wasn’t sure what to make of whatever was happening inside his body at that moment. Because his body was definitely attracted to Riddle, even when his mind reminded him very thoroughly of all the horrible things Voldemort had done to Harry and so many other people.

But Riddle wasn’t Voldemort, was he? Right now he was a teenager working a summer job, who hadn’t done anything truly horrifying just yet.

And Harry was going to make sure that Riddle wouldn’t get his hands on the basilisk. Harry frowned while he glanced at Riddle again. Perhaps he could also break into the restricted section of the Hogwarts library sometime soon and steal any books that mentioned horcruxes. Riddle hadn’t really gone off the rails until he’d started mutilating his own soul. If Harry could keep him from doing that, perhaps Riddle wouldn’t turn out quite so deranged and happy to murder.

Oh, Harry had no intention of becoming Riddle’s confidant or his conscience, the one person to keep Riddle on the path of the light, or some such rot. Harry had no desire to take that sort of responsibility onto his own shoulders. Besides, Riddle would someday soon be a grown-ass man. It was his own responsibility to manage his own life choices, end of story. Harry was willing to make a few adjustments from the shadows, but that was all he was going to do.

After Harry dealt with the basilisk and any books mentioning horcruxes in the Hogwarts library, Riddle was on his own to live his own life. And if he went off the rails again, Harry would gladly hunt him down and finish him off like a rabid dog, but he refused to get involved in Riddle’s life before such a moment.

Just as Harry figured he should probably stop ogling Riddle and pay for his books, the bell above the door jingled as a few new customers entered the shop.

No, not customers. They were Riddle’s Slytherin friends.

Abraxas Malfoy was first, dressed in silk summer robes, his blond hair long and tied back. He was the spitting image of Lucius, and only now did Harry realize that Draco actually looked a lot more like his mother than his father, apparently. After Abraxas came Theodorus Nott and Maximus Lestrange, both faces Harry recognized from old Death Eater files. The next one through the door sent a freezing shiver of something terrifying up and down Harry’s spine.

Konrad Mulciber might only be a teenager, but Harry would know that face anywhere.

And finally, Sirius Black entered the store.

Harry blinked, and blinked again. No, not Sirius, of course. That was Orion Black, Sirius’ father.

Harry was still mostly hidden by a stack of books and he quickly cast a wandless notice-me-not charm on himself while he slowly moved away. As long as he didn’t actively draw attention to himself the others wouldn’t notice him. Harry had learned a few wandless spells while training as an Auror. It had been hard work, but necessary. Being able to summon your wand back to you during a duel was vitally important. And once Harry had been able to do that, he’d also taught himself a few other spells he could now perform wandlessly, such as an unlocking charm, an Expelliarmus, a Stupefy and a notice-me-not charm. Anything more powerful than that would need his wand, but Harry was more than happy to have a few spells at the ready he could use to take out his enemies even without a wand in his hand.

“And how are you enjoying the life of the employed?” Theodorus Nott asked as he approached the counter, giving Riddle a warm smile.

Before Riddle could even answer, Abraxas Malfoy gave a loud sniff as he glanced around the store, his nose wrinkled. “Can an impoverished establishment such as this one even afford to pay you?”

“And hello to you, too,” Riddle replied with a tight little smile as he glared at Abraxas. “They pay me in a few sickles and in books.”

“In books?” Orion Black demanded, as though books couldn’t possibly hold any value. “Are you finally turning into a Ravenclaw once and for all, Tom?” Ravenclaw was said as though it was a foul curse word, and Harry quietly bristled at the insult to his new House.

“The horror,” Riddle said in a deadpan tone while giving Black an even look. This earned him an amused chuckle from Nott and a shake of his head from Lestrange. Riddle shrugged and carefully closed the book he’d been reading. “I get to spend my days reading while getting some silver for my troubles. It beats being stuck in muggle London.”

This got Riddle a slew of agreeable responses. It was interesting to see that at this age, the others didn’t yet treat Riddle as though he was a budding Dark Lord. There was some gentle ribbing and teasing and they treated Riddle like any group of teenage boys would treat a classmate and friend.

Fascinating.

So Riddle’s tight rule over his fellow Slytherins hadn’t yet started and right now he was just another student. A handsome and clever student, sure, but he wasn’t yet ruling over anyone else.

“Do you get a lot of mudbloods in here?” Konrad Mulciber asked, and just the sound of his voice sent an trail of ice dripping down Harry’s spine. Unwittingly he remembered Harriet being raped by that boy standing just a few feet away. It was strange, to have such memories that belonged to someone else. Harry didn’t feel as though he himself had been raped, but at the same time it did feel more intimate to have these memories in his own head than say looking at one in a pensieve.

Either way, seeing and hearing Konrad Mulciber so close by gave Harry several very strong murderous impulses and made his hand twitch in its eagerness to reach for his wand. Harry knew with certainty that he could take these six boys if he engaged them in a duel. All of them were above average when it came to magical power and he had no doubt that some of them would have already received formal training in duelling, or perhaps would have been learning on their own, like Riddle probably had been doing since his first year.

But Harry was an experienced Auror, who’d received Auror level training in duelling. He could wipe the floor with all of them within a few minutes, he was sure of it.

When Harry had started Auror training it became apparent very soon that Harry sucked at duelling. Not surprising, since Harry had never learned to do it. Yes, he’d mastered individual spells and he’d faced dangerous enemies, but Harry had made it that far in life much more due to sheer, dumb luck than to any knowledge of how to actually duel another witch or wizard.

Harry had plenty of raw power, more so than most, but his spell repertoire had been pathetic and he hadn’t a clue how to string spell-clusters together and how to be creative with magic in ways that would take your opponent by surprise.

Thankfully, the Auror department was very thorough in their education and Harry had learned actual duelling, after many, many hours of blood, sweat and tears, and the occasional trip to St Mungo’s, and nowadays Harry could duel any other Auror to a quick victory.

But no, now was not the time to take care of these wizards. To his knowledge, only Mulciber had actually engaged in serious criminal activities so far, and Harry already had plans for him. If he wiped the floor with them now, he’d lose the element of anonymity he needed for his future plans, plus those rich pureblood boys would make sure the poor muggleborn witch would end up expelled from Hogwarts, or worse, in Azkaban, for attacking them.

“Nobody needs to hear about your distasteful hobbies, Konrad,” Orion said with an utterly bored drawl.

Mulciber sputtered. “Distasteful? Fucking those mudbloods is the only use they have. Maybe you should try it, loosen you up some.” Mulciber got a downright nasty look on his face, his eyes almost fever bright. “I can recommend this little Ravenclaw cunt I fucked right before the holidays. She begged so prettily for me to stop.”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Riddle snapped, looking around the store in a bit of a panic. “This store is not secure. Keep those details to yourself, fool.”

Harry slowly closed his eyes and stood perfectly still, invisible to the monsters around him. So Riddle knew what Mulciber got up to in his spare time. Harry had wondered if Mulciber’s dormmates knew they shared their dormitory with a rapist, but it seemed that they did but just didn’t care. Not that this surprised Harry. All these men would grow up to truly despise muggleborns to the point they slaughtered them like cattle if given the chance. It seemed that Mulciber had simply started a little earlier in showing his true colours than the rest of them.

Mulciber huffed and scuffed his shoe against the carpet, shoving his hands deep in his pocket, the picture of a petulant child. “I can’t wait for the holidays to be over so I can fuck some mudbloods again,” he muttered, apparently unable to keep his gob shut once and for all.

Abraxas sniffed and turned his back on him, engaging Riddle in some light conversation about his responsibilities at the store.

And for the next hour Harry stood still, head bent, listening to the six teens talking about utterly boring and banal things. There was lots of complaining about Dumbledore, and the Ministry, and the current ranking in the Quidditch League, and other shit Harry wasn’t interested in.

But if he wanted to remain undetected, which he did, Harry had no choice to stay still and wait until those boys finally left. As soon as he drew attention to himself they’d notice him, and Harry had no desire to confront Mulciber before he had his trap set up for that fucker.

After almost an hour-and-a-half of mindless prattle, Orion Black announced he was in the mood for a sorbet from Fortescue’s and the whole lot finally left. Harry waited a few more minutes until Riddle had gone back to reading his book, and then he made his way to the counter and put his small selection of books on top of it.

Riddle looked up in obvious surprise, as though he’d genuinely forgotten Harry had been there, which was exactly what Harry had counted on.

“These three, please,” Harry said in a whisper.

For a moment it seemed Riddle was curious about Harry’s identity, but then he noticed the books Harry had selected. One on household magic, one cookbook and one on gardening. Harry could see Riddle’s face shut down in immediate boredom and Harry could barely swallow back an amused snicker.

“Three knuts, please,” Riddle said, and he barely glanced at Harry when he handed over the correct amount of coins. Harry snatched up his books and before he reached the door Riddle already had his nose buried in his book again.

Good. Even with the unexpected delay, Harry had managed to avoid drawing Riddle’s attention and that was his ultimate goal, so he counted the expedition a success.

Harry made it back to Harriet’s home in time to get dinner started, as he’d promised Evelyn. He put his beginner’s cookbook to good use and managed to peel and chop the potatoes with a few flicks of his wand. The parsnips looked a bit rough after Harry peeled those, but he quickly chopped them with another charm. Then he waved his wand over the vegetables to roast them with a charm. They came out nicely browned and steaming. Harry finished off with a bit of salt and pepper and then he set the table and not a moment too soon because Harriet’s family walked through the door.

“Oh, you roasted them?” Evelyn asked in surprise while Harry quickly got a frying pan hot on the stove to fry up some eggs.

Harry shrugged. “It seemed like a nice change.” Then he looked around the kitchen and noticed the distinct lack of dirty dishes. “I’ve already washed up,” he quickly explained.

Dinner was simple but everything was cooked to perfection, thankfully, and Harry genuinely looked forward to trying out all the new cooking charms he could find in the book. Harry still possessed an insatiable curiosity, no matter that he was a raving cynic those days.

Right after dinner, as Harry helped Evelyn with the rest of the dishes, he got a strange, burning feeling in his lower belly. He disappeared inside the bathroom at the first opportunity, and once he pulled his knickers down he saw what the problem was at once.

Oh fuck. He’d completely forgotten that girls got periods. And the pregnancy prevention potion always triggers a new menstruation cycle.

Ugh. Why oh why couldn’t Harry have been reborn into a male body? He loved women, he really did, but he just preferred a cock and balls over whatever the hell he had now, that bled once a month and made his lower body feel like it was on fire.

Thankfully, Harry had actually lived together with Ginny for a year and he knew how witches took care of such problems. And thanks to Harriet’s memories, he knew she kept a supply of cloths to use during her time of the month in the dresser in her room.

Just as Harry joined the family in the sitting room for tea, the telephone in the hallway rang loud enough to wake the dead in the cemetery of the next town.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut while Evelyn hurried to answer it. She appeared again a minute later, pausing in the doorway.

“Jonathan Mason’s breathing has worsened,” Evelyn said, and Martin folded up his newspaper and got up at once. “I’ll get your bag.”

“I’ll come, too, father,” Vincent said, and he followed his family out of the room.

Harry sank back on the sofa and clutched a pillow to his belly. He knew a simple pain relief potion that witches took whenever they had a painful period, but of course he had none in stock. And he couldn’t just slip away to brew it. He didn’t even think he had all the ingredients he needed in stock.

Evelyn took one look at Harry when she returned and frowned in concern. “What’s the matter, darling?”

Harry swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. People had rarely addressed him with such sincere concern for his well-being. “Just my time of the month,” Harry mumbled.

Evelyn nodded while she gave him a sympathetic smile. “A bad one?”

Harry nodded miserably, even though he didn’t think it was a particularly bad period, but it was his first one ever and it fucking sucked.

Harry wanted his penis back, simple as that.

“I’ll be right back,” Evelyn said, and moments later Harry heard some noises coming from the kitchen that suggested Evelyn was making some sort of drink. She appeared again and handed Harry a steaming cup of hot cocoa, and at once Harry’s eyes misted over with unshed tears.

Cocoa powder was pretty much impossible to buy during the war, and Evelyn had been saving the half can they had left for special occasions such as Christmas. And now she’d made her daughter a hot cup of that rare brew just because her belly hurt.

Harry couldn’t stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks. “Thanks,” he mumbled, ducking his head and sipping the cup. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying. For his own strange lot in life. For his missing penis. Or in sympathy for the kind Evelyn Hubble, who’d lost her daughter and didn’t even know it.

At once Harry realized that Harry being here was the only thing that had prevented Evelyn from finding her daughter’s dead body in her bed thanks to that raping monster. And perhaps Harry was crying for poor Harriet as well, who’d found her own life so difficult that she’d ended it prematurely.

Evelyn tactfully ignored Harry’s tears and sat down in her armchair and picked up her embroidery. And Harry sat in a room with a woman who was the mother of the body he was currently wearing, and Harry had never had a mother before, and he thought that perhaps he wouldn’t mind having this one for himself, now that Harriet didn’t need her anymore.

Harry went to bed early, and Evelyn brought him a hot water bottle. A metal one, wrapped in a large, knitted sock.

“It was your grandmother’s,” Evelyn said as she tucked Harry in. Harry remembered that Martin’s mother had passed away just the year before from a sudden aneurysm. It had devastated Harriet, who’d been very close with her grandmother, who’d lived with them ever since her husband had died from cancer almost a decade earlier.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered and turned on his side, clutching the hot water bottle against his belly, vowing to brew the pain relief potion first thing the next day.

And that is what Harry did over the coming days. He popped into Diagon Alley for the right ingredients, made himself a large batch of pain relief potion which did wonders for his mood, and he sold more things from his Room of Requirement stash. Harry decided to wait with selling any books, because he wanted to create a real personal library in Murder Cottage, which meant that he should fix the cottage up first.

Mrs Ashford proved an authority on almost anything to do with remodelling and redecorating a home, and if she’d appeared there and then Harry would have pleaded for her hand in marriage, so grateful was he for her amazing book. There was a whole section on expanding existing rooms, and Harry did just that with pretty much all the rooms in the cottage. He cleaned inside and out, he repainted every surface that needed it, he polished the slate floors downstairs and the wooden floors upstairs, and he repaired the kitchen and bathroom, adding taps with running hot and cold water, provided by runes carved into the metal. He also added a flushing toilet.

And once the basics of the cottage were done, Harry started decorating it with the furniture and decorations he’d found. He fixed up what he liked, changing the colours as needed, cleaning it all thoroughly. He also discovered lots of fallen trees in the nearby piece of woodland and took some of those home to transfigure into bookcases for one of the spare bedrooms that would become his library. Parts of the cellar he turned into a potions room, with a sturdy workbench he transfigured himself, and lots of shelves on the wall for his ingredients and tools.

Harry also got himself a few essentials for the kitchen, such as a kettle and tealeaves, plus a few cups, so he could enjoy a good cup of tea in between his hard work.

He also experimented with cooking charms every afternoon as he prepared dinner for his family. And yes, Harry was now thinking of these people as his family, because that is what they were, even if it still felt strange to Harry more often than not.

Harry also sorted through all the clothes he’d found, and he kept quite a few pieces for himself. Thanks to Mrs Ashford’s wisdom, Harry learned to charm clothes to fit him, or to change their colour or to slightly alter their fit. This way Harry ended up with some very nice, silk robes in case he needed to attend some official gathering. He also now had a beautiful lambskin coat, lined with soft wool, which would be a real treat to wear in the Scottish winters. And he had plenty of black, Hogwarts robes to see him through the rest of his Hogwarts years.

The rest of the clothes he sold, alongside with any furniture he didn’t end up using for himself.

Once Murder Cottage had been turned into a cosy place to live, Harry spent a whole day putting it under the Fidelius Charm. It was a fiddly bit of magic, and enormously time-consuming, but in the end Harry managed it, and now he had a true safe-house where no one could find him unless Harry shared the secret with them.

Harry knew that once he finished Hogwarts and made bank with his future potions empire, he would buy a public home for himself, that he could use to entertain. But he’d always keep Murder Cottage as a safe retreat for himself. He knew that one day his life may depend on it.

And then, just when Harry was ready to slay the basilisk, the full moon came around, so Harry rolled up the mandrake leaf and stuck it under his tongue. It was uncomfortable, but he knew he’d get used to it soon enough. He could still eat and drink and talk, even if it took some practise at first. The leaf would stay there until the next full moon no matter what.

Harry needed a brave partner to go kill the murder serpent, and there was no braver cockerel in all of Swansand-upon-the-sea than the Governor, the Hubbles’ handsome Campine cockerel. A large black and white speckled bird, the Governor was known to chase any neighbourhood cats from the yard. He was fearless. Well, for a chicken, at any rate.

Harry had informed his family the evening before that he’d be getting up before sunrise to watch it near the coast. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence, for any member of the Hubble family to take an early morning walk, so no one thought this a strange announcement. Harry got dressed in some old robes, and snuck out of the house under the cover of full darkness.

He quietly opened the chicken coop and stunned the Governor, catching him gently without waking any of the other chickens up. He placed the Governor inside his shoulder bag, which also held lots and lots of expanded crates that Harry had prepared to hold the basilisk parts.

The journey to Hogwarts was the same as when he’d snuck into the Room of Requirement, except this time Harry walked down to the second floor instead of up to the seventh. He easily located the girls’ bathroom and found the right tap. A few hisses later, the wall opened up and Harry pulled his shrunk Star Sweeper from his bag, resized it and flew down the steep tunnel, hissing for the wall to close behind him. He lit his wand and flew the whole way down to the second door that required a parseltongue command to open. Once there harry dismounted and quietly walked inside the Chamber of Secrets. He checked his watch. They were very close to sunrise now. Technically, you could kill a basilisk with a cockerel’s crow at any time of the day, Harry was sure, but from what he’d learned over the years, the first crow of a cockerel at sunrise was the strongest one to instantly slay a basilisk, so Harry was taking no risks.

He pulled the Governor out of his bag and held him closely while waking him up. The Governor didn’t seem to like being held, but kept it together for the most part.

Another check of his watch told him it was time. Harry hissed, the statue opened, and then he cast the Imperius curse on the Governor and ordered him to crow like he’d never crowed before.

The Governor did not disappoint, throwing his head back and releasing a truly magnificent crow that echoed around the chamber for at least half a minute. Harry could hear brief trashing and thumping coming from inside the statue but it quickly turned silent.

Well, that had been easy, assuming the basilisk had just died. Harry cast a quick spell to check for any signs of life within the chamber, but he only got two in return, himself and the Governor. He released the Governor so he could peck around the room and stretch his legs, while Harry very carefully climbed inside the statue’s open mouth. He cast the spell again to check for signs of life, just to be sure, but again it came back negative and Harry lit up his wand and saw the coiled body of the basilisk. The head was lowered and the eyes were closed. Harry watched its body carefully for at least a few minutes but he could detect no signs of breathing.

Well, it had been that easy, apparently. If only he’d known that in his second year.

Harry levitated the dead basilisk out of the hole and into the large chamber and then he pulled all the shrunken crates from his bag and got to work.

As Harry methodically broke apart the carcass, storing every little part of it in crates and jars and boxes, he realized he was going to be a very rich young witch. The basilisk was huge and was worth millions, probably, by modern standards. Harry didn’t feel sorry for killing the beast. He felt some sympathy that the animal had been locked up all by itself for centuries, sure, but ultimately a creature like a basilisk had no business living beneath a school and Harry had no clue where else to put it. Besides, basilisk parts were so rare that it was downright stupid to not sell them and make Potioneers around the globe extremely happy. Harry wanted to kick his 12-year-old self for never having realized that since he killed the beast, he could have claimed the carcass for himself, to sell its parts.

And butchering an animal like that didn’t bother Harry much either. He’d been working with all sorts of animal parts while brewing potions since he was 11 years old. What was one more murder serpent compared to that?

Harry had told his family he wouldn’t be home for lunch, which was a good thing because it took him most of the day to cut up the beast and secure it under heavy preservation charms in all the containers. Harry kept two fangs dripping with venom for himself, locked up in a dedicated metal box he’d charmed to withstand the venom. Just in case Riddle ended up making horcruxes again and Harry needed some tools to get rid of those fucking things again. He also kept reasonable amounts of all parts of the animal for his own collection, so he could experiment with basilisk blood and bone at a later date. He also reserved a long stretch of skin for himself, to be made into clothing at some point. Perhaps some nice battle robes. Then again, the life Harry was planning for himself now didn’t really call for battle robes, so he’d just keep the skin preserved for now and decide later what to do with it.

Finally, Harry was done and he loaded everything up, tracked down the Governor who he found wandering around in one of the pipes, and then he easily made his way back to the surface, thanks to his broom.

Harry got home just in time to prepare his family some dinner after cleaning himself off with a few quick charms. The Governor returned to the yard where he immediately pranced around like the brave bird that he was, happily showing off for his girls.

“Did you have fun?” Evelyn asked as they all sat down to eat.

“Yes, I had a great day,” Harry said honestly. He’d just become a millionaire. His Gringotts vault just didn’t know it yet, but would very soon.

The next morning Harry visited Gringotts first thing.

Steelclaw, Harry’s account manager, looked at Harry in mild disbelief when Harry started unloading crate after crate in his office.

“You actually killed a 1000-year-old basilisk?” Steelclaw asked, disbelief also obvious in his voice.

“Well, technically the Governor did,” Harry replied as he kept unloading. It had been a very big basilisk, after all.

“The Governor?”

Harry shot the goblin a quick grin. “My family’s cockerel.”

“Ah.” Steelclaw chuckled. “It will still count as your kill in the goblin community. Many will want to hear the tale of your bravery.”

Finally, the last crate was stacked against the wall and Harry turned towards Steelclaw and shrugged. “There’s very little to the tale, I’m afraid. I just got lucky and learned where a basilisk was located. I brought the Governor along and made him crow at sunrise. That’s it, really.”

“And where did you locate such a beast, if I may ask?” Steelclaw asked delicately, jaw tight with anxious curiosity.

“Hogwarts,” Harry said and he was very amused to see Steelclaw’s jaw drop. “Yeah, I know. That’s one of the reasons I did away with that beast.”

“Indeed, one could scarcely imagine a worse place to house a basilisk.” Steelclaw shook his head. “I will catalogue everything you have for sale and I will start selling it in small quantities, negotiating the very best prices.”

“I know you will,” Harry said with a deep nod. Steelclaw’s income was a percentage of the selling price, so Harry was certain the goblin was going to be absolutely ruthless in his negotiations. “Just please don’t mention my name.”

“Your identity will remain a secret, I swear it,” Steelclaw said formally, and Harry left soon after that so his account manager could get to work and make them both very, very rich.

Once Harry stepped out of the bank, he glanced in the direction of Knockturn Alley. He really shouldn’t, he knew that, but Harry was curious what Riddle was up to. Or perhaps Harry wanted to visit Riddle now that Harry had irrevocably changed Riddle’s future by killing the basilisk, even if Riddle had no idea such a thing had even happened.

Whatever the reason, Harry wanted to pay his prophesized enemy a visit, and he’d never been good at impulse control, so off to the bookstore he went.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Harry checked through the store window to see if any of Riddle’s friends were there, but the shop was empty save for one older man browsing the shelves, and Riddle himself, seated behind the counter reading a book. Harry pushed open the door without any hesitation, and Riddle only glanced up for a second at the sound of the jingling bell.

Harry wasn’t a power-hungry person, or so he thought, but he just couldn’t resist coming to gloat now that he’d dealt Riddle some very real setbacks in his quest to become a Dark Lord. It hardly mattered that Riddle had no clue what Harry had done. Harry knew, and that was enough to fill him with a very real sense of glee as he stared at the oblivious Riddle for a few moments.

The old man was browsing the charms section, which Harry had planned to look through because he needed a pensieve and perhaps he could find a book that detailed how to make one. But Harry wanted privacy so he made his way to the potions section instead.

When Harry had learned he needed to sit his potions NEWT, he’d spent an evening whining at Ron and Hermione how devastating it was that they lost The Half-Blood Prince’s book because it had been the single most useful potions book Harry had ever had the pleasure of getting his hands on. Hermione had sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly, a sour look on her face, until she’d finally snapped at Harry that if he wanted his book back all he had to do was use a pensieve and he could recreate all of the Half-Blood Prince’s recipes himself.

Harry had been so utterly grateful for her suggestion that he might have kissed Hermione then and there, if Ron hadn’t been sitting beside her.

Anyway, Harry had asked Kreacher where one might buy a pensieve, because he had no idea, and Kreacher had looked at Harry in obvious disappointment, shook his head and led Harry to Orion Black’s old study, where Harry found a pensieve hidden away in one of the drawers of the large, oak desk that dominated the room.

The pensieve was small and looked very old, but it worked perfectly. From that moment on Harry had spent a few hours every evening going through every memory he had of using the Half-Blood Prince’s book, looking over his memory-self’s shoulder and memorizing all the altered recipes he could see. Once back in Orion’s office, Harry wrote them all down in a dedicated notebook. Just the act of memorizing and writing down dozens and dozens of altered recipes did wonders for Harry’s understanding of potions, and undoubtedly had been one of the biggest reasons Harry had ended up with an Outstanding on his potions NEWT.

Now that Harry was stuck in the past, he planned to do the exact same thing. He remembered a few of the Prince’s altered recipes, of potions he used a lot in his own life and preferred to brew himself, but he knew that if he used a pensieve this way, he wouldn’t just be able to copy down all of the Prince’s recipes, but he would also be able to observe every memory he had of every potions lesson he’d ever attended, and thus memorize every single potions recipe he’d ever brewed. And any recipe that hadn’t been invented yet in 1942, Harry could potentially pass off as his own creation.

He'd pick and choose which potions to claim as his own inventions at some later point, and for now he’d just focus on collecting as many recipes as he could.

Since Harry was going to be creating a potions empire, he had decided to actually apply himself to understanding potions even better than he already did. He had learned a lot while studying for his NEWTs, but he was by no means a Potions Master just yet. Thankfully, Harriet had a very analytical mind, which Harry vowed to put to good use by focussing on learning as much about potions as he possibly could.

Hence why he was now happily browsing the potions section, face carefully hidden by his hood once again.

He quickly found an old potions tome that contained all manner of interesting potions recipes, of things Harry wasn’t very familiar with, such as a whole line of euphoria potions that sounded like they might make the drinker high in all manner of ways. Harry was quite sure a number of these potions were illegal, but that didn’t mean they weren’t interesting to study and perhaps use as a basis for a new potion eventually. There were also a number of healing potions found in the book Harry wasn’t familiar with, so he decided to take the book home with him, to give it a thorough read.

He also found a small book completely devoted to Felix Felicis, and the history of this liquid luck, and with plenty of anecdotes of witches and wizards who had consumed the potion at some point in their lives. Harry had some very positive memories when it came to good old Felix, so he selected the book for nostalgia’s sake alone.

The next book Harry selected was one full of personal hygiene and cosmetics potions. Harry remembered very well that Fleamont Potter, his previous grandfather, had earned their family tons of gold all by inventing the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, so Harry wasn’t about to dismiss the idea of experimenting with such potions in the future.

Finally, Harry found a small book that looked about ready to fall apart. The cover was a dark brown leather, with plenty of rips and scuffed edges, but without any mention of a title or author. Harry found those on the first page: The Potion of the Ancestors, by Florrie Flutterford.

Harry’s heart must have skipped at least five beats and he was light-headed at once, almost dropping the books in his arms. Taking several deep breaths, Harry opened the small, thin book and skimmed over the text as quickly as he could. He couldn’t believe he’d found this little book, and his chest tightened in instant regret when he realized he couldn’t share this amazing discovery with Hermione.

During the many, many months they’d been hauled up in a tent together, with or without Ron, Harry and Hermione had talked about everything and anything. Hermione, as it turned out, had lots of interesting ideas about the wizarding world. One of those ideas was that there was no such thing as muggleborns.

Instead, Hermione suggested that all witches and wizards born to muggles were in fact squib descendants. It made perfect sense when you thought about it. Squibs were magical in essence. They caried magical genes in their bodies, even if they themselves didn’t have enough magic to cast spells. Then squibs were abandoned in the muggle world, where they ended up marrying muggles and having children, who also carried some of those dormant magical genes in them. And then, at some point down the line, one of these squib descendants had children with another squib descendant, and a magical child was born.

It explained why muggleborns often had more than one witch or wizard in the family. Look at Colin and Dennis Creevey, for example. Both magical, but with utterly muggle parents.

Even Harriet had another magical person in the family. Evelyn’s younger sister, Carole Wickens, was a muggleborn witch. She’d attended Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw, had proven to be something of an Ancient Runes prodigy, and after finishing school had quickly been snatched up by the Department of Mysteries, where she worked to this day. As most true academics, Aunt Carole was completely consumed by her work and Harriet had never been very close to her, unfortunately. Perhaps having a magical confidant might have helped Harriet better deal with her troubled life.

Anyway, Harry had agreed with Hermione’s ideas, especially when Hermione pointed out how few muggleborns actually were born during any given year. If muggleborns happened spontaneously, why were their numbers so very, very low. There were around 60 million muggles in the UK alone. Yet every year only around 20 new muggleborns were registered, out of 100 or so new students for the average Hogwarts year.

That were only 20 muggleborns out of an average of 700000 muggle births per year. Less than 0,003 percent of muggle births in the UK were muggleborns. That tiny number made sense when you assumed it took two squib descendants to create a new witch or wizard.

Hermione had looked far and wide for evidence of these theories. She’d tried to dig up her own family’s records, and she’d looked for a magical way to determine one’s magical ancestry, but she’d found nothing. And then her work kept her busy and she got married and she had little time left to dig any further.

Yet here Harry was, stuck in 1942, where he might have just found the answer, if Florrie Flutterford’s potion worked. Harry looked over the ingredient list. It required lots of expensive items, plus Thestral blood and tail hair.

Harry couldn’t remember ever having come across a potion before that used any part of a Thestral. The magical world mostly feared those bizarre creatures, and shunned them at every opportunity though Harry himself felt only positive things about them.

Harry wasn’t even sure if you could buy Thestral ingredients in the average apothecary. Not that it mattered, because Harry happened to know where one could find a nice, sizable herd of them.

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry clutched the books to his chest and hurried towards the counter. Project pensieve could wait. Harry wanted to create Florrie Flutterford’s potion as soon as possible and test it out with Harriet’s muggleborn blood.

Riddle looked up from his book with an annoyed little frown when Harry placed his selections on the counter. With a small sigh, Riddle picked up his books one by one, to determine their price. Most books were a knut, apparently, but some of the rarer ones were a bit more expensive. When Riddle came across the blank brown cover, he couldn’t hold back his curiosity and flipped the cover open.

Harry was very intrigued to witness Riddle’s reaction to the title. Riddle’s brown eyes widened and he inhaled a sharp little breath before whipping his gaze towards Harry while he narrowed his eyes.

Oh, Harry knew what was happening at once. As far as he could remember, Riddle had discovered his Slytherin ancestry sometime before his fifth year, or very early into the schoolyear itself. And seeing as how Riddle had apparently spent all summer reading in a bookstore, it made sense he’d found Florrie Flutterford’s book at some point, used the potion on himself, and discovered his ancestry at last.

Harry quickly bit his lip so he wouldn’t start cackling right into Riddle’s ridiculously handsome face. Here was the answer to Riddle’s most burning question, and Harry was snatching it away from him right under his nose, and all for one measly knut.

Harry could see the moment Riddle considered going for his wand, probably to obliviate Harry and keep the book for himself. But the old man was still browsing the charms section and would make an unwelcome witness. Besides, Riddle had no idea who Harry was, since his cloak and hood hid his identity. He might be a 15-year-old muggleborn, or he might be an Auror, or a powerful pureblood who’d see Riddle charged for any kind of attempted assault. Riddle’s shoulders relaxed and he plastered a polite smile on his face while he ducked his head a little, probably trying to look under Harry’s hood.

Not going to happen. Riddle was very tall, even as a teen, and Harry was rather short, so Riddle would have to bend double at the waist if he wanted to get a good look at Harry’s face and that would be much too obvious.

“These please,” Harry said, pulling Florrie’s Flutterford’s book out of Riddle’s hands and snapping it shut. He did not want to give Riddle the opportunity to glance at the actual potions recipe. “Four knuts?”

Riddle kept smiling, eyes narrowing again as he clearly was thinking of every possible way he could get the information he wanted. “An interesting subject, isn’t it?”

Ah. So Riddle was going for small-talk. Harry pulled out his money bag and dug out four knuts. “Yes,” he replied, because he couldn’t help himself. “It’s going to help me prove there is no such thing as muggleborns. There are only squib descendants.”

And with that, Harry smacked the four knuts on the counter, clutched the books to his chest and hurried out of the store, leaving a quietly fuming Riddle behind.

Let Riddle believe himself a muggleborn for a while longer, until he found another way to prove his Slytherin ancestry. It would probably do wonders for his overinflated ego.

Harry made a quick stop in the apothecary, to pick up any ingredients he needed for the potion and didn’t have in stock in his potions cellar back in Murder Cottage. Then he apparated back home to join his family for a quick lunch. Right after he was done with the dishes, Harry once again broke into Hogwarts. It was becoming a bit of a habit, wasn’t it? But no one seemed to notice Harry coming and going as he pleased from the castle, so he saw no reason to stop.

Having seen Riddle again did remind Harry that he wanted to do away with any books mentioning Horcruxes in the Restricted Section of the library. So instead of heading to the Forbidden Forest straight away, Harry made a quick stop at the library. The spells used to lock the library were easily undone for someone with Auror-level knowledge of ward breaking.

Harry knew which book housed all the information on creating a horcrux. He, Ron and Hermione had paged through it often enough during their horcrux hunt, after Hermione had liberated it from Dumbledore’s office.

Secrets of the Darkest Arts stood innocently on a shelf in the Restricted Section, as if it wasn’t the book that had ended up changing the wizarding world for good. Though why a fucking school kept such a book on its shelves was a mystery to Harry. Yes, he believed that people should be able to study all types of magic, but the kind of subjects discussed in Secrets of the Darkest Arts were perhaps best saved for adult academics, not for a bunch of impulsive teenagers.

Harry tucked the books away safely in his bag, and then skimmed the shelves if he saw any other titles that discussed horcruxes. He didn’t think so. But moment later, when he spotted Magick Moste Evile on a nearby shelf, he knew he’d been wrong. He remembered Hermione going through this book because it briefly mentioned horcruxes, though not how to make them. Either way, Harry was taking it as well, because he didn’t want Riddle to even realize such a thing as horcruxes existed.

That done, Harry strolled through the castle, enjoying the sights of his old school as he made his way to the forest. Only once he was a few yards into the forest did he drop his disillusionment charm. He summoned a few rabbits, killed them with a quick bludgeon hex, and then headed towards the area of the forest the Thestrals called home.

Thankfully, that location hadn’t changed over time, and Harry carefully approached the first Thestral he saw. He offered one of the dead rabbits as a treat while he plucked a few hairs from the animal’s tail. The Thestral barely noticed as he started tearing up the rabbit. Harry threw the second rabbit down for the Thestral and got a couple of empty vials out of his bag. The spell to painlessly draw blood was one Harry had learned for his potions NEWTs, because it was important to know it when collecting potions ingredients. Harry hadn’t really had an opportunity to use it in the field until now, but he remembered it perfectly, so he quickly filled the vials with blood without breaking the Thestral’s skin. The charm summoned the blood directly from the vein to the vial, without causing any discomfort or pain. Quite ingenious, really.

After he was done, Harry patted the Thestral on his neck a few times, thanking him politely, and then he strolled back through the forest. He found a few unicorn tail hairs stuck in some brambles, which he also collected. He kept an eye out for other useful things, and he ended up with a few ingredients he could add to his collection, like borage, some wild dittany and some hemlock he found growing beside a little brook.

Harry returned to Murder Cottage and got to brewing at once. Thankfully Florrie’s Flutterford’s potion wasn’t very difficult, but it did take over an hour to brew, and there were a few steps that took careful timing.

After the potion was done, Harry added seven drops of his own blood. He spread out the largest piece of blank parchment he had and carefully poured the potion across the surface. The liquid seemed to take on a life of its own and fanned out until it covered every bit before sinking into the parchment.

Now Harry had to wait for about ten minutes before the potion would show him his magical ancestors, squibs included. To keep himself from bursting out of his skin with curiosity, Harry busied himself with making a strong cup of tea. He sipped it while he paced in front of the table, until finally words started appearing.

At the very bottom, Harriet Hubble’s name appeared. Branching out from her were smudges, little indicators where muggle ancestors without enough magic of their own stood on the family tree. Soon enough, a name appeared above Harriet’s matriarchal branch, leading up from her grandmother’s name. Someone which turned out to be a great-great-grandmother of Evelyn and Carole.

Ebba Feborg.

The name was unfamiliar to Harry. It sounded Scandinavian, perhaps. He’d look into it later.

Another name appeared above Evelyn and Carole’s spots, this time on their father’s branch, a little further up.

Alice Graves

And finally, a name popped up that made Harry’s breath hitch, and his eyes tear up. Far above Martin Hubble’s name, at least eight generations removed, his squib ancestor appeared.

Edward Potter.

Harry sat down on a chair at the table abruptly, his legs suddenly too weak to carry him.

He was still a Potter! Well, sort of. Very, very distantly. But a Potter nonetheless.

Was that why he’d ended up in Harriet Hubble’s body? Because she was, however far removed, related to the Potters? Harry frowned as he remembered that the voice had called him the Master of Death. Harry had never put much stock into the whole Master of Death thing, because collecting the hallows had never done anything for him. That he knew of, at least.

But could it be that Harry Potter, a descendent of Ignotus Peverell, could only be reborn into a body that was also descendent of the Peverell family? The only ones that applied to were the Potters, and the Gaunts, of which Tom Riddle was the only one left, aside from his crazy uncle Morfin Gaunt, who wasn’t making any babies anytime soon.

Was that why Harry was suddenly living inside the body of a fifteen-year-old girl? Because she was the only one available that was the correct magical match?

Suddenly, Harry missed Ron and Hermione with an intensity that overwhelmed him, and the tears that had been shimmering in his eyes finally fell down his cheeks. How he wished he could discuss all these theories with his friends, like he’d done since they were eleven years old and spent their days solving whatever mysteries Dumbledore wanted them to find.

Fucking hell, he was never getting Ron and Hermione back, was he?

Harry buried his face in his hands and sobbed, his shoulders shaking, now that the knowledge that his old life was well and truly gone finally sunk in. He’d lost everyone he cared about, everyone he loved, and he was alone in this new world.

Yes, he had Harriet’s family, and he was grateful for them, but they didn’t know who Harry really was, and Harry wasn’t about to tell them. Harriet’s Aunt Carole might come and lock him up in the Department of Mysteries or something.

Harry cried for a good fifteen minutes, unable to stop now that he’d finally let his emotions out that he’d frantically been pushing back ever since he’d woken up in Harriet’s body.

He missed his friends desperately. He missed Ron’s laugh, and Hermione’s exasperated sighs, and Molly’s motherly hugs and Arthur’s pats on the shoulder. He missed Ginny’s warm body and Luna’s bright smile and Neville’s flushed cheeks and Kreacher’s disapproving frowns.

Strangely enough, Harry did not really miss his old life. He just missed the people in it. Was that why he hadn’t made any effort to get back? Because part of him actually enjoyed his current life as an anonymous muggleborn? Yeah, Harry missed his penis, but he also rather enjoyed not being Harry Potter anymore.

Being Harry Potter had been exhausting, to be honest. Spending his teenage years hunting down a Dark Lord and running for his life was only the start of it. Harry was a celebrity in his old life, perhaps the most famous person in modern Britain. People expected all sorts of things from him that Harry couldn’t possibly fulfil. The newspapers were constantly making up the most ludicrous stories about him, and people always felt they could talk to him about their own problems whenever Harry quickly tried to run an errand after a long, exhausting day. Then there was the constant speculation about his love life, because every witch and wizard in Britain felt they were entitled to give their opinion on it, preferably to Harry’s face when he was out doing his job as an Auror.

For fuck’s sake, Harry had on more than one occasion, during a one night stand, had a witch cancel the protection charms mid-fuck with a finite incantatem to try to baby trap him. It was a very good thing that Hermione, wise woman that she was, had warned Harry about such things when he’d first started sleeping around, and from that moment on Harry always took a potion to keep himself infertile on top of always using protection charms.

Seriously, though, having to worry about all of that shit whenever he wanted to get laid was a fucking nightmare.

So, if Harry was honest, he didn’t miss his old life and he rather liked having an anonymous identity that he could use to build a whole new life for himself. He did miss his penis, and his friends, but perhaps that was the price he had to pay for this new opportunity.

Harry wiped his eyes dry, made himself another strong cup of tea and gave himself a break while he sipped his cup. Hermione’s theory so far proved correct. Now Harry had to convince a few more muggleborns to use the potion, but that was something that could wait until September. Harry decided to take the rest of the day off, and returned to the Hubble’s home, where he put some of the magic he’d learned from Mrs Ashford to good use and cleaned the whole house in less than an hour. Then he cast a discreet ventilation charm on the sitting room, since Martin smoked a pipe and Vincent was going through cigarettes like they were candy. Seriously, did no one realize how bad smoking was in the 1940s? They were both doctors, for fuck’s sake. Anyway, Harry was tired of sitting in a room full of smoke every evening.

Finally he prepared a nice meal for his new family. He was getting pretty fucking good at cooking charms, much to his relief. It saved an enormous amount of time instead of having to prepare everything by hand.

The next day Harry decided to spend a quiet day in Murder Cottage, preparing several shield charms. Harry was well aware that he’d drawn the attention of Tom Riddle, now that Harry had snatched something away that Riddle desperately wanted, so it was time to make sure Riddle, or anyone else, couldn’t easily curse Harry in the back.

Harry started with a few small items of the silver jewellery he’d kept from the Hogwarts stash. He inscribed them with the necessary runes, added protection charms, and then put them on. They were only a necklace, a bracelet and some earrings, all small and unobtrusive. After that was done, Harry started adding shield charms to all his clothing, both his muggle things and his Hogwarts robes. He remembered how easily Mulciber had stunned poor Harriet in the back, and he wasn’t about to let something like that happen to him.

The day after that Harry realized that while he’d been an excellent dueller in his previous life, he was now occupying a completely new kind of body. It was much smaller than his previous one, plus it had breasts, that sometimes got in the way when Harry made quick arm movement. It was probably a good idea to practice duelling in this new body before he ended up in a real duel and found out that his new body didn’t move like the one he was used to.

So Harry set up some quickly transfigured dummies in the yard and put his new body through the paces of learning how to duel. Breathing techniques, the correct placement of his feet, his posture, Harry didn’t skip any of it.

Duelling in Harriet’s body was a whole different experience. For one, her cardio was abysmal, and Harry started rectifying that at once by spending a few hours every day riding a bicycle around the countryside as fast as he could. Women weren’t supposed to jog in the 1940s, but no one blinked an eye at a teen girl riding a bicycle. Harry also took many vigorous hikes up and down the hills surrounding Murder Cottage to build up his stamina.

Harriet’s body was quite small, no taller than 5 foot 2, and therefor made a small target. Harry also practiced ducking and evading, which his new body was exceptionally well suited for.

After a couple of days of focusing on his physical fitness and his magical protection, Harry felt confident enough to return to Riddle.

To find a book on pensieves, or so he told himself.

In truth, Harry was getting a bit bored, now that all the most pressing matters were dealt with, and he did so enjoy messing up Riddle’s life. A man had to have his hobbies, after all.

But as Harry walked inside the bookstore he realized at once that things were about to go very differently than before. Because instead of barely glancing up, Riddle sat up straight the second he recognized the grey cloak and hood Harry was wearing. He might not know Harry’s identity, but naturally he’d memorized what Harry always wore.

Riddle closed his book, got up and hurried towards Harry as quickly as was polite to do for a store clerk.

“Good afternoon,” Riddle said with a little bow as he appeared beside Harry, an eager little smile on his stupidly handsome face.

“Hi,” Harry replied quietly, keeping his side turned towards Riddle while he looked over the charms section. He was the only customer in the store, but he wasn’t worried. If Riddle dared to go for his wand, Harry would smack him down hard.

But Riddle did no such thing. “Your comment about muggleborns being squib descendants was very intriguing. Did you manage to prove it?”

Harry briefly squeezed his eyes shut. Of course Riddle would want to try to get Harry to cough up that potion one way or another. Harry should have just kept his mouth shut, but baiting Riddle was just too tempting, wasn’t it. Harry knew very well he lacked any kind of impulse control. “I did, though my sample size is very small still.”

Riddle’s face lit up at once. “If you require more volunteers to test the potion on, I’d happily suggest myself.”

Of course he would, the opportunistic bastard. “You’re a muggleborn?” Harry asked, curious to see Riddle’s reaction to that. Voldemort would have murdered someone straight up for even just suggesting such a thing.

But Riddle only gave a sad little shrug while ducking his head. “I am an orphan who grew up in the muggle world. My name is Tom Riddle, which is not a wizarding name to my knowledge.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry agreed, but even that didn’t get a negative reaction. “The potion requires blood. And it’s very expensive.”

Riddle briefly bit his lip, which looked downright endearing, which what the fuck? Why would Harry even think such a thing? He blamed Harriet’s stupid crush for that. Just a weird reaction from his new body.

“I don’t have much money,” Riddle said, and he sounded like he truly regretted that. “But I am a talented wizard.”

“You’re what, thirteen?” Harry asked, because he just couldn’t help himself. He pursed his lips so he wouldn’t cackle in Riddle’s face.

Riddle frowned, his eyes darkening just a bit in annoyance. “I’m fifteen. I’ll be sixteen in just a few months.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll be happy to take you on as a candidate for the potion, but you do have to pay for it. The ingredients alone cost at least a galleon.” Which wasn’t a lie. And a galleon in the 1940s was at least 150 pounds in 2005 money, so it was far more than a poor orphan would be able to afford.

Riddle’s frown deepened while he pursed his lips, staring down at Harry’s hood. “I cannot pay you that amount. But if there is anything else I can do for you, just name it.”

Harry was about to dismiss Riddle completely, until he realized that this was a unique opportunity. Riddle desperately wanted something from him, which put Harry in a position of power. “There is nothing I need at this time, but I would be willing to accept a favour from you.”

“A favour?” Riddle asked, just a bit suspiciously.

“Yes. At some point in the future I will ask you for a favour, and you will grant it to me. It’s nothing that will endanger your own life, I swear it,” Harry explained patiently. “But I will need a magical promise.”

“And in exchange I receive what exactly?” Riddle asked with a shrewd look, eyes narrowed and head tilted.

“In exchange I will come here tomorrow with the potion and we’ll find out if you’re a muggleborn or not,” Harry said, and he was terribly amused to see Riddle’s eyes light up like a child’s who’d just been promised ten extra presents for his birthday.

“It is a tempting offer,” Riddle said, not unreasonably. “But I cannot in good conscience promise a favour to a person whose identity I do not know.”

Harry didn’t blame Riddle for saying this, since Harry himself would also refuse such a deal. Any sane witch or wizard would. There really was nothing keeping Harry from revealing his identity to Riddle at this point. Harry very much doubted Riddle even knew who Harriet Hubble was. So without any further hesitation, Harry pulled his hood back and blinked up at Riddle.

Riddle scrunched his eyebrows up as he peered down at Harry’s face in obvious confusion. It took everything Harry had not to burst out in laughter, because he’d been right. Riddle had absolutely no idea who he was.

“We go to Hogwarts together. We’re in the same year,” Harry pointed out, just because he could. Riddle’s eyes widened for a second, before he narrowed them, now looking even more bewildered than before.

And even though Harry wanted to laugh in Riddle’s ridiculously handsome face, a part of him also felt a very deep sadness on Harriet’s behalf. Here was a person who’d shared numerous classes with her for four fucking years, and he had no clue who she even was. Harry’s heart ached on Harriet’s behalf.

“Of course,” Riddle murmured agreeably, probably trying to save face. “We have…ancient runes together, correct?”

“And arithmancy,” Harry said, unable to hold back a very amused smile. “And potions and defence.”

“Ah yes,” Riddle said, as though he suddenly remembered Harriet, which Harry was absolutely sure he didn’t. He probably just remembered their shared class schedule. “You’re a Ravenclaw.”

“Yep.” Harry kept his mouth shut. It was clear Riddle couldn’t come up with Harriet’s name, and Harry wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

But apparently Riddle didn’t need to know his name to assume Harry wasn’t a threat to him. “I accept,” Riddle said, holding out his hand. “The ancestor potion in exchange for one future favour.”

“I accept,” Harry replied formally, taking Riddle’s large hand in his own much smaller one. “One future favour in exchange for the ancestor potion.”

To seal the magical promise, they both pushed a little magic into each other. This was expected.

What wasn’t expected was that Riddle’s magic felt so familiar and warm and inviting that it was like coming home, and Harry’s knees instantly grew weak.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Riddle caught him by the elbow and kept him upright when it seemed Harry was about to fall flat on his arse right in front of his prophesized enemy. Riddle’s absurdly handsome face did some very complicated things as he stared down at Harry.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, willing strength back into his legs. “I skipped lunch. Just feeling a bit light in the head.”

Nodding slowly, Riddle gently released Harry when it seemed he wasn’t about to keel over again. “I would offer you some of mine, but I’m afraid I’ve skipped lunch as well,” Riddle said with a regretful little smile.

Harry blinked up at him, realizing that Riddle probably was going a little hungry in the muggle orphanage. The whole country was on food restrictions, and he doubted that some rundown orphanage in London would get any priorities when it came to food distributions.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry assured Riddle, feeling all sorts of embarrassed that he’d made such a scene in front of Tom Riddle of all people. “I should return home anyway. What time suits you best for me to stop by tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning, if that’s not a problem for you. There’s hardly ever any customers when we first open,” Riddle said as he walked Harry to the door. Riddle really was good at roleplaying as a perfect gentleman.

“Sure, I’ll see you then,” Harry said, offering Riddle one last smile before slipping out the door. He flipped his hood up and hurried out of Knockturn Alley, meanwhile wondering what the fuck that had all been about.

Why the hell had Riddle’s magic felt so fucking good? Like something that hit every last cell of Harry’s body in just the right spots. Was it because Harry had been a horcrux? But that had been his previous body. Harriet Hubble never had a piece of Riddle’s soul stuck on her forehead.

But wait. Harry had lived with a piece of Riddle’s soul right next to his own for just about 17 years. And while Harry had never consciously missed that piece of Riddle’s soul once it was gone, perhaps connecting with it again through their brief magical exchange was enough to trigger…something that felt really good, for some reason.

Hm.

These were the kind of mysteries Harry always felt compelled to solve, especially because it involved his prophesized enemy. Or rather, his former prophesized enemy, if that was even a thing. Harriet Hubble didn’t have any prophecies hanging around that connected her to a Dark Lord, Harry didn’t think.

Harry kept mulling over these things in his head as he spent the rest of the afternoon brewing the ancestor potion, which he kept under stasis at Murder Cottage for the night.

When he returned home, ready to magically cook his family some dinner, he found Evelyn sitting at the kitchen table, a cold cup of tea in front of her while she stared at the wall.

“Mother?” Harry asked as he carefully approached her.

Evelyn snapped her head towards Harry in obvious surprise. “Harriet, darling. Your brother received a letter drafting him for the service.”

Something got stuck in Harry’s throat and he coughed a few times while he stepped up to the sink. He filled a glass of water and swallowed it down, blaming his suddenly parched throat on having spent time hovering over a hot cauldron without hydrating himself.

“When is he leaving?” Harry asked, standing at the sink, back turned to Evelyn. He felt terrified for Vincent, even though he’d only known the man for a few weeks. Not even a month. But he had a lifetime worth of memories from Harriet, who’d loved her big brother a lot. Though Vincent was a lot older than Harriet, he had always been a caring sibling. In the short time Harry had known him he’d certainly enjoyed playing chess and checkers with him in the evenings while they all sat in the living room and listened to the radio.

“This Friday,” Evelyn said, and Harry could tell she was desperately trying to keep a brave face, though her cheeks were very pale.

Harry stared at his terrified mother, the only one he’d ever known, and offered her a reassuring smile. “They won’t sent him into the battlefield. He’s a medic. He’ll be well behind the fighting, working hard to save lives.”

Evelyn ducked her head for a moment and then pushed her chair back to get up. “You’re right, darling. Vincent will help his fellow soldiers win us the war.”

“Should I prepare something special for dinner? We’ve still got those smoked sausages,” Harry suggested, and Evelyn gave Harry’s shoulder an agreeable squeeze.

“That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll head back to the practice, clean up today’s paperwork.”

The moment Evelyn left through the side door that led into the doctor’s practice that was located in a different part of the house, Harry got to work to prepare his brother a feast. He roasted potatoes, carrots and parsnips, quickly pickled some beets and radishes, and fried up the smoked sausages until they were nicely browned.

Vincent was in good spirits and gave Harry plenty of compliments for the feast he’d prepared. Martin, who’d been a medic for the British armed forces during World War One couldn’t stop giving his son advice on everything and anything to do with surviving on the frontlines.

After they all got up to go to the sitting room, as they did every night, Harry pulled on Vincent’s sleeve and stood up on his tiptoes to whisper in his ears. “Drop your watch off in my room. You’ll get it back tomorrow morning.”

Vincent frowned at him for a second, and then got an understanding look on his face. “I thought you weren’t allowed to do magical things during the summer?”

“Not all magic requires a wand. Let me do this for you,” Harry whispered urgently. He really, really wanted to do what he could for his new brother.

“Sure,” Vincent agreed easily, though he looked like he wasn’t quite sure what Harry could possibly do to his watch that would help him.

Well, Harry could do plenty, even if Vincent wouldn’t understand all of it. Harry went to bed early and found Vincent’s watch on his dresser. It was a sturdy metal windup piece that Vincent had inherited from their grandfather, and that he always wore. Harry added lots of different rune sequences, for wards of safety and protection, and he added whatever shield charms he knew. Harry had no idea if any of those things would protect Vincent from actual bullets or bombs, but it was better than nothing.

He quietly slipped out of his bedroom after he was done and left the watch in Vincent’s room on his nightstand. Harry honestly hoped Vincent would make it through the war in one piece. He’d only just found this new family. He didn’t want to be losing parts of it so soon.

The next morning Vincent was excused from the doctor’s practise to start packing. He invited Harriet to help him, but Harry brushed him off with an excuse that he needed to run an errand for a neighbour, but that he’d be back in a few hours to assist him.

As Harry picked up the ancestor potion at Murder Cottage he got an idea. He quickly transfigured a vase into a thermos and filled it with tea. After he apparated to Diagon Alley, he stopped by the bakery and picked up some lardy cakes and a few slices of malt loaf.

Fuck it. Harry knew what it was like to go hungry, and he doubted Riddle was getting enough calories at that fucking orphanage, especially since Riddle seemed to be right in the middle of a growth spurt that would send him well over 6 feet eventually. And while Harry didn’t give two shits about Riddle, he hated seeing anyone go hungry. And since he had sort of snatched up the basilisk from under Riddle’s nose, Harry figured the least he could do was spend a few knuts so Riddle wouldn’t go hungry.

The bookstore was empty, save for Riddle who sat behind the counter, book forgotten in his hand as he was obviously keeping an eye on the door for Harry to arrive.

“Brought us some treats,” Harry said as he all but smacked the paper-wrapped cakes on the counter. “It’s not every day a witch gets to prove there’s no such thing as muggleborns,” Harry added, as an excuse, because Riddle seemed just the type of proud person to start bristling at the thought of charity.

Not that Harry cared, because he didn’t. At all.

Harry unwrapped the cakes, got out the thermos, pulled out his wand and conjured two teacups. He filled them up and then noticed Riddle staring at him with wide eyes.

“You use magic during the holidays?” Riddle asked carefully.

“You don’t?” Harry countered with a grin. “Don’t tell me you of all people haven’t figured out how to break the trace by now.”

Riddle got an incredibly sour look on his face for a moment before he schooled his features into something a bit more polite. “I do know I can safely practice magic around adult witches and wizards without setting off the trace,” Riddle said with a haughty little sniff.

Harry snickered. “But you can’t use it around muggles? Shame.” Harry pushed the cakes towards Riddle and then snatched up a lardy cake for himself. “Here, have some cake.”

Riddle got this complicated look on his face again as he stared at Harry, but he did pick up a slice of malt cake and took a big bite.

“The potion uses Thestral hair and blood,” Harry said, just to make conversation as he finished his cake.

Riddle’s eyes widened and he quickly swallowed his mouthful of cake. “Really? Were you even able to buy any at the apothecary?”

“No, and they looked at me as if I was insane when I asked for them,” Harry said with an amused smile, wiping his hands together to get rid of any crumbs before picking up his cup of tea. “Thankfully, I know where to find a sizable herd of them.”

“Who did you see die?” Riddle asked, blunt as you please. He seemed to realize at once that what he’d just said was very rude. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Harry’s mind was going a mile a minute, because he wasn’t sure of the answer, but then he remembered that Harriet had seen her grandmother die. Gran had collapsed from an aneurysm, and she’d passed on the next day in her own bed, with her whole family around her. “My grandmother, a few years ago,” Harry whispered, because remembering those things filled him with a strange sense of grief. Harriet had loved her grandmother a lot.

“My condolences,” Riddle whispered before picking up his own cup of tea to take a big sip.

Harry shrugged but then gave Riddle a pointed look. “And you?” If Harry was confessing to such things, Riddle had better be prepared to do the same thing.

Riddle did look for a moment as if he wanted to brush Harry off, but then he sighed and put down his teacup. “At the orphanage, there was an outbreak of the measles. Again. Most of us got it at some point. Most of us came out of it just fine.”

“But not all,” Harry guessed. He knew measles were very infectious and could lead to terrible consequences, even death. Martin talked about it often enough during the evenings because measles were always going around.

Riddle nodded. “Yes, one of the younger boys in our dormitory was badly affected. It was surreal how quickly he went from a cheerful little boy to his deathbed.”

“My father is a doctor, so I’ve heard all the stories,” Harry said, not sure why he was sharing that bit with Riddle. Perhaps it was because Riddle was looking rather disturbed by his own memory, and Harry knew very well that Riddle had a very real fear of death. Perhaps actually talking about it might help him deal with that kind of fear a bit better.

“That must be nice, to have your own private doctor,” Riddle said with a brief grin. “At the orphanage the doctor is only called when someone is practically standing at death’s door. Our Matron firmly believes her quackery is just as good as the advice of an actual medical professional.”

Harry grimaced in sympathy, and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Thankfully, Riddle chuckled along for a moment. Then Harry finished his tea in one big gulp, wrapped up the rest of the cakes and shoved those towards Riddle. He didn’t give Riddle a chance to protest by distracting him with the potion he pulled out of his bag.

“You need to add 7 drops of your blood.” Harry left Riddle to it while he unrolled a large sheet of parchment. Riddle pricked his finger with a small penknife he pulled out of his pocket and squeezed out enough drops of blood. “Now pour out the potion over the parchment,” Harry said, reaching for his wand and healing the small wound on Riddle’s finger without thought. “And then we wait for 10 minutes.”

Riddle was staring at his own healed finger with a small frown before he remembered his potion and carefully poured it out. Like before, the potion fanned out over the parchment and sank into it.

Harry refilled their teacups because they might as well have some more tea while they waited. Riddle’s face was a blank mask, and Harry could only imagine how he must feel. So much depended on this for him. Muggleborns had a very low status in the world. Someone as clever as Riddle had to know that being a half-blood meant much better opportunities for a career than being a muggleborn.

The first name that popped up was of course Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the next one was Merope Gaunt. Where Riddle’s muggle father would be there was only a smudge, as was expected.

“Oh boy,” Harry said, playing along at being surprised by these results.

Riddle stared at him with wide eyes before fixing his attention back on the parchment. “What does that mean?”

“It seems your father was a muggle and your mother was either a witch or a squib,” Harry explained while Riddle’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper into a frown. “Well, to be honest, seeing as your mother was a Gaunt, it’s reasonable to assume she was a squib. In fact, you should be glad your father is a muggle, or you would have been a squib as well, guaranteed.”

“Truly?” Riddle said in a voice thick with disbelief.

Harry tapped the parchment where the names of Marvolo Gaunt and Marsila Gaunt had just appeared. “You know that unofficial Slytherin credo ‘better a cousin than a mudblood’?”

Riddle released an utterly undignified snort, as though he’d never expected Harry to say such a thing.

Harry grinned in return. “Yeah, well, the Gaunts take that one step further, and generally add ‘better a sibling than a cousin’.” Harry tapped the parchment again, where the branches now showed that Marvolo and Marsila had indeed been siblings.

“Merlin’s balls,” Riddle muttered, eyes wide as he stared at the names of his grandparents. Yeah, Harry figured, it must be a bit of a shock to realize you were the product of some serious incest.

“Yep,” Harry agreed with a solemn nod. “The Gaunts are utterly inbred and because of that they’re also certifiably insane and have about as much magic left in their lines as the average squib.”

Then, much to Harry’s surprise, a name appeared on Riddle’s father’s branch, above Riddle’s grandmother, three generations removed.

Athena Scamander.

“Wow,” Harry said, in genuine surprise. “You’re related to the Scamanders!”

Riddle blinked as he looked between Harry and his family tree. “That name sounds familiar.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with obvious enthusiasm, and then he remembered that it was the 1940s and Newt Scamander hadn’t written his book yet. “They’re an old, respected family, purebloods mostly. They’re pretty big in the Ministry, I think. And they do some stuff in zoology.” There, that was nice and vague. Harry was pleasantly surprised to see the name Scamander, because Luna had married Rolf Scamander, Newt’s grandson, just the previous year, and Harry had got to know that family a bit.

Riddle gave a few thoughtful nods, but he still looked very unsure about the whole thing.

“So, you’re not a muggleborn,” Harry said, hoping to assure Riddle a bit about these findings, and to steer him away from his obsession with his heritage. “But you are a descendant of a surprise squib.”

“Are there any Gaunts left, do you know? My mother died in childbirth,” Riddle asked quietly, eyes fixed on the parchment.

Harry frowned, pretending to think. “Not many, I don’t think. Perhaps your uncle, but he’s been in and out of Azkaban. I’m pretty sure your grandfather and grandmother are both dead already.”

“How do you know all this?” Riddle demanded, using a bit of force in his voice that made it sound like he was feeling quite frustrated.

“My aunt is also a muggleborn witch, and she works for the ministry,” Harry said, figuring that Aunt Carole could be a good excuse to explain away all the knowledge Harry had that a 15-year-old muggleborn witch probably shouldn’t be having.

“I see,” Riddle said, just as the branches leading up from the Gaunt family showed a new name.

Syldara Slytherin.

Riddle inhaled a shocked breath, his face rapidly losing colour before moments later his cheeks flushed.

“Ah, you’re related to the Slytherins,” Harry said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to find out.

Riddle gave Harry an incredibly incredulous look.

Harry shrugged. “Salazar Slytherin had something like five kids. He has a lot of descendants, but I think his name has been lost for a while now. Did you know Ilvermorny, that wizarding school in the USA was founded by a descendant of Slytherin?” Harry gave Riddle a quick little grin, still trying to steer Riddle away from thoughts of grandiosity just because he was related to good old Salazar. Harry wasn’t lying. Slytherin had a lot of descendants, but those days most of them could be found in different countries where they’d married into all sorts of interesting families. Hermione had stumbled across that information while she’d briefly been obsessed with wizarding genealogy.

Still staring at the parchment, Riddle remained quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Harry didn’t blame him. It was an emotional journey to figure out where you came from, especially when growing up an orphan.

“If you want to get in touch with any of your relatives, your best bet is the Scamander family,” Harry said, trying to add some sympathy to his voice. “They’re reasonable people who will most likely enjoy hearing that one of their squib relatives has eventually produced a magical child. The Gaunts would not welcome you or accept you. They’re known muggle haters and pureblood fanatics.”

“Yes,” Riddle said with a little sigh. “The fact that my grandparents were siblings does suggest such a thing.”

“Exactly.” Harry gave Riddle an agreeable smile. If Riddle did get in contact with the Scamanders, he might genuinely find acceptance there, which might keep him from losing his shit when finally finding the Gaunts and the Riddles.

“What about you?” Riddle asked, looking up at Harry, his eyes shining. “Who are you related to?”

“Oh, I can show you.” Harry didn’t mind sharing his own ancestry. It might help Riddle accept his own lot in life, if he realized others were also getting interesting results. Harry pulled his own parchment out of his bag and spread it out for Riddle to see.

“I haven’t been able to research anything yet,” Harry explained as he pointed at the name Ebba Feborg. “I think that’s Scandinavian.”

Riddle actually laughed, which made Harry gape at him in surprise. “Swedish,” Riddle said, giving Harry a wicked grin. “Not all the Feborgs are dark, I don’t believe, but Arvid Feborg certainly was.”

“Do enlighten me,” Harry said eagerly.

“He was a Dark Lord at the end of the 1700s, and he invented quite a few interesting curses,” Riddle happily explained.

“Really.” Harry couldn’t help return the grin Riddle was giving him. “Imagine being related to a Dark Lord.”

Riddle gave a careless shrug. “Imagine being related to Salazar Slytherin.”

“Pah.” Harry waved Riddle’s comment away with an impatient hand. “Slytherin is the wizarding world’s equivalent to Genghis Khan.”

When Riddle frowned in confusion, Harry said, “He has like 16 million descendants or something. He got around. A lot.”

Riddle ducked his head while he laughed outright. It was such a warm sound, which took Harry completely by surprise and inexplicably, he suddenly felt a bit flustered.

“Anyway,” Harry said quickly to get rid of the hot feeling in his chest. “The Graves are an old pureblood family, who migrated abroad, I think. I have to research that as well.” Harry remembered meeting a few American Aurors named Graves during an international Auror conference in Helsinki where he’d been invited to speak. Apparently the Graves family was well known for producing lots of Aurors. Harry tapped against the last name on his family tree. “And the Potters are still around.”

“You could perhaps contact them,” Riddle suggested, eyes still shining with mirth. “Just don’t mention your connection to Arvid Feborg. The Potters are an exclusively light family.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes, and then he got an idea. “I’ll write the Potters, if you write the Scamanders.”

“Why?” Riddle said, suddenly looking a bit suspicious.

“I still believe that all muggleborns are squib descendants,” Harry said, leaning both his hands on the counter and leaning a little closer to Riddle. “And I think it will be interesting to see how different families react to the news that there are new magical witches and wizards out there who are distantly related to them.”

“It might be an interesting enough experiment,” Riddle conceded with a nod. “Very well, but I do expect to hear about your results.”

“Sure, we’ll share the results.” Harry couldn’t help the flush of pride at his own brilliance. Here he’d managed to steer Riddle towards the family that would hopefully keep him from developing such a strong urge to commit patricide eventually. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have commitments,” Harry said with a real sense of regret. Now that he’d actually spent some time talking to Riddle he wouldn’t mind doing it some more, since Riddle was easy to talk to and seemed just as willing to exchange knowledge that could help them both.

“Certainly,” Riddle said as Harry vanished the teacups and put away his thermos and his own family tree in his bag. “Thank you,” Riddle added in a whisper, and either Riddle was the greatest actor in the world or he truly felt a little emotional about the whole discovering his ancestors thing.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said with a genuine smile. “If you know anymore muggleborns wanting to find their squib ancestors, let me know.”

Riddle’s brow pulled together in a very tight frown while his lips all but disappeared, so tightly did he clench his jaws. He even briefly closed his eyes before he said in a most contrite tone. “It would help me greatly to send people in your direction if I knew your name.”

Harry grinned so widely it hurt. If Riddle was anything like Hermione in his obsession with needing to know every little detail of everything that was going on, then Riddle had just spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, wondering what the fuck that name of that mystery classmate was. It was hilarious to imagine Riddle bursting with frustration over Harry’s name, but in the end, Harry decided to put Riddle out of his misery. “My friends call me Harry.”

“Harriet Hubble!” Riddle yelled, slapping one hand on the counter in sheer victory. “That’s your name!” Oh yeah, Harry was now more sure than ever that this had kept Riddle up last night.

“And it only took you twenty-four hours,” Harry said with a teasing chuckle.

Riddle’s eyes crinkled with obvious amusement. “Don’t exaggerate, Ms Hubble. It was barely eighteen hours.”

“Ah yes, because that makes all the difference.” Harry gave Riddle a cheerful little wave before turning around. As he walked to the door, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll stop by in a few days, so we can see if we’ve received a reply from our distant relatives.”

“Have a good day, Ms Hubble,” Riddle called back before looking down at his family tree again with a satisfied smile on his face.

Well, that had been an interesting meeting. Harry was amazed that Riddle had opened up so much. Then again, this Tom Riddle was only 15 years old. Still a child in some ways, only now finding his own place in the world. And while Harry still had no desire to directly interfere with Riddle’s life more than he already had, he did have to admit that spending an hour chatting with the young man had been a pleasant enough experience.

As Harry pulled up his hood and walked through Knockturn Alley towards the exit, it suddenly dawned on him that at no point since his rebirth Harry had considered killing Tom Riddle. Just do away with him entirely before he could ruin anyone’s life. And it would have been easy, too. Riddle had eagerly accepted food and drink from Harry without checking them for contaminants. This Riddle, while suspicious at times, wasn’t yet so paranoid that he trusted no one around him.

But Harry had no intention of poisoning a 15-year-old Riddle, no matter that Riddle might become a Dark Lord again. Harry didn’t want to play judge, jury and executioner to a teenager who hadn’t yet done anything wrong. In fact, Harry had made a few significant changes that would alter Riddle’s life one way or the other. Riddle might not even become a Dark Lord this time, or if he did, he might go about it in an entirely different way.

Harry would happily sit back and watch what happened to Tom Riddle from now on, but he wouldn’t take out the man until he actually deserved it for his current actions, not for what he might have done once upon a time.

As Harry entered Diagon Alley, he realized that he might as well buy an owl for himself if he was going to correspond with some distant family members. He was definitely writing the Potters. And he was going to research the Graves and the Feborgs, and who knew, he might end up writing them as well.

In his previous life, Harry hadn’t bought a replacement owl after the war. At first, he’d missed Hedwig too much. And later, he realized that he really didn’t need an owl. He didn’t send that many letters in his private life. The Ministry had owls to use for any outside correspondence, and on the rare occasion Harry had a personal letter to send he simply popped by the post office and spent a few knuts to send it.

But now that Harry had an actual family he wanted to stay in contact with, having an owl of his own was probably a good idea, especially with Vincent joining the armed forces and Edith working as a Land Girl. It would be nice if Harry could keep in touch with them as well. Back in her first year, Harriet’s parents had offered to buy her an owl, since that animal was mentioned in her Hogwarts letter. But Harriet had found the large birds with their glowing eyes a little scary and hadn’t wanted one. A cat was out of the question as well, since Evelyn and Margaret were allergic, and Harriet had no desire to own a toad either. So in the end, she’d refused any kind of pet. Whenever she wrote her family a letter, which wasn’t often since she didn’t think she had many positive things to write about, she simply used a school owl.

Now Harry decided it was time to get himself a new owl, perhaps a barn owl or a tawny owl. Something that wouldn’t stand out too much.

But the moment Harry opened the door to the Owl Emporium, he saw the spitting image of Hedwig sitting on a perch to the right. Such a beautiful snowy owl, and Harry had to swallow against a sudden lump in his throat.

While Harry tried to be strong, in the end he couldn’t help himself and some fifteen minutes later he stood outside again with his new snowy owl in a cage in his hand. He apparated them to Murder Cottage.

“This is where you’ll be staying until we go to Hogwarts,” Harry explained while he released the bird. “There’s lots of mice to hunt here in the countryside. I’d introduce you to my family, but I can’t explain to them how I got the money to buy you, so that will have to wait.”

The owl blinked at him with patient eyes.

“Your name is…” Harry frowned, trying to come up with something that fit his new companion. “Holly.” That was a nice tribute to his old life without giving too much away.

The newly named Holly bobbed her head at him agreeably.

“I have a letter for you to deliver right away,” Harry said as he grabbed some paper and a quill. He kept the letter to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter relatively short. He briefly introduced himself, told them about his theory that muggleborns were squib descendants, and then he mentioned the ancestor potion and what it had revealed. He included a quick copy of his family tree and sealed the whole lot up in an envelope. “Please take this to Fleamont Potter,” Harry said as he offered Holly the letter. His stomach did a very strange little flip as he watched his new owl fly away. The idea of contacting his actual family was a peculiar one. As Harry Potter he’d never known them, had barely known of them. But here he was, a brand new person and he might actually get to meet them after all.

While Harry closed up the cottage he wondered if Riddle had already written his own letter to the Scamanders. And then he sincerely hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake, foisting Tom Riddle, potential Dark Lord to be, onto someone as gentle and softspoken as Newt Scamander.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

For the next two days Harry was busy at home. He helped Vincent pack, he made sure lunch and dinner was on the table, he kept Evelyn generously supplied with plenty of strong cups of tea and he made sure that the house was clean so Evelyn didn’t have to worry about anything and could mentally prepare to send off her son to war in peace.

Martin owned an amazing car. Well, to Harry it looked absolutely amazing, like one of those rare classical 1930s cars you rarely saw. It was a 1938 Austin 7, which didn’t mean much to Harry, who knew nothing about cars. Still, Harry admired the automobile as Martin drove it carefully out of the garage. Petrol was heavily restricted and reserved mostly for the armed forces, hence why Martin rarely drove his car those days. But as a doctor he did receive a small amount of petrol that he decided to put to good use to drive his family to the train station in Exeter to see his son off.

Harry enjoyed the trip in the car, which didn’t go very fast at all and which didn’t seem to have any kind of wheel suspension, which made for a very bumpy ride. But Harry didn’t mind as he stared out the window and enjoyed the passing landscape. There were hardly any other cars on the road, so they made good time.

The train platform was filled with newly drafted soldiers and their worried families, all trying to keep it together desperately, because, after all, they were British and didn’t do public displays of emotions.

Harry hugged his brother because he was genuinely worried for the guy and because Vincent looked like he needed a hug, his face pale with anxiety. “I’ll write,” Harry told him, before stepping back to let Evelyn and Martin say goodbye.

The ride back was a lot quieter and a lot tenser, with Martin staring at the road in complete determination while Evelyn discreetly dabbed at her eyes with a small handkerchief. Once they got back, Harry excused himself because his parents looked like they needed some quiet time to process their son joining the war effort. Just as Harry stepped outside to apparate to Murder Cottage, a large owl swooped down and dropped a letter on his head.

Harry caught it before it hit the floor and gave the owl a bright smile before apparating to his safe house.

It was a letter from Fleamont Potter, who seemed delighted a long, lost family member had made themselves known. Fleamont was also very curious about the ancestor potion Harry had found, and made it known he and his wife, and his younger brother Charlus and his wife, would be happy to meet with Harry and his family.

Harry couldn’t stop grinning as he put the letter down. It would probably be easiest if the Potters came to visit the Hubbles in their home, which meant Harry had to inform his parents about what he’d been up to. Well, he’d wait a day or two, but perhaps a visit from some distant magical family would provide a welcome distraction to his parents.

Since Harry couldn’t yet share his good news with his family, he decided to share it with the only other person who was in the know and he filled up his thermos with tea and quickly apparated to Diagon Alley. A brief stop at the bakery yielded him some custard cakes topped with fresh strawberries, and from there it took Harry less than five minutes to make it to the bookstore.

Except the moment he pushed open the door, Harry realized Riddle wasn’t alone in the store. Theodorus Nott and Orion Black stood leaning against the counter, clearly there to visit with their friend. Harry slowly stepped inside the store, face still hidden by his hood. Riddle recognized him, of course, but didn’t seem to know how to react exactly, now that two of his pureblood friends were there. For a moment it looked like he was going to smile in Harry’s direction before he ducked his head and frowned down at the counter.

It was that slightly anxious look on Riddle’s face that made Harry decide to reveal himself.

Fuck all those pureblood supremacists.

Harry threw his hood back and marched up to the counter as though it was the most normal thing in the world. “Mr Riddle,” Harry said with a cheerful smile. Then he schooled his face into a slightly colder expression and nodded at the two other young men. “Mr Nott, Mr Black.” Giving those two no time to respond, Harry plucked the letter out of his pocket and waved it in front of Riddle’s face. “I’ve got good news!”

Riddle finally allowed himself to smile. “Ms Hubble.” Riddle reached into his own pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. “So do I.”

Harry couldn’t help himself and he released a bout of joyous laughter. He was so incredibly happy that the Scamanders seemed to welcome the idea of a long lost family member, at the very least.

Nott cleared his throat rather obnoxiously, and when Harry turned to them, Nott and Black were looking at him as though they were watching Harry perform a rare Celtic fertility dance completely in the nude. Harry quickly bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh in their faces at seeing them in such obvious shock. Harry didn’t like them, but he also wasn’t dumb enough to purposefully provoke them. At least at that time.

“Aren’t you that Ravenclaw mudblood Mulciber added to his collection?” Orion Black asked, one eyebrow quirked as he looked Harry up and down.

Harry squared his shoulders and gave Black his best authoritarian look, one he’d perfected once he’d joined the Aurors. “I know a curse that will make your dick fall off, permanently. So by all means, keep talking.”

Black blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing until he gave Harry a wide grin that made him look so much like Harry’s godfather it made Harry’s chest ache. “Right. A little mudblood like you knows a curse like that.” Black’s voice was dripping with disbelief.

“Not a mudblood,” Harry said with a tilt of his head while he gave Black his sweetest smile. “I’m a squib descendant. One of my ancestors was a Dark Lord, so yeah, I’m well versed in curses that turn you dickless.” Harry quickly glanced at Riddle and gave him a cheeky wink.

Riddle couldn’t seem to help himself as he threw back his head and laughed, which did things to Harry’s belly for some weird reason.

“You are related to a Dark Lord?” Nott demanded, nose wrinkled in clear disdain.

“Arvid Feborg.” Harry gestured at Riddle. “Ask him.”

“It’s true,” Riddle said with a pointed nod. “She’s also related to the Potters. You’ll remember Charlus Potter, who works as an Auror, of course.”

Oh, nice little threat right there. Harry stared at Riddle in admiration. Here Harry was, gently poking all sorts of metaphorical sticks at these two pureblood supremacists, and Riddle made sure they knew Harry had family in high places, just in case they wanted to put Harry in his place through more violent means than some verbal sparring. Harry’s regard for Riddle rose a few notches right there and then.

Nott didn’t reply to Riddle but kept staring at Harry, his lips pursed tightly. “So this is the mudblood that’s been filling your head with such nonsense.”

Riddle gave Nott a very unimpressed look. “Ms Hubble was kind enough to share her discovery with me, and to test my blood to reveal my magical ancestors, as I showed you.”

Harry didn’t want to give those two dickheads any chance to further escalate things, so he simply turned his back to them, utterly dismissing them. It was very rude to do so, of course, but Harry couldn’t care less. He wasn’t worried about being cursed in the back, either, since he was wearing his protective jewellery and every article of clothing he was wearing was treated with shield charms.

“I brought us some cake to celebrate,” Harry said, giving Riddle a warm smile while he pulled out his thermos and unwrapped the custard cakes. “It’s not every day one finds new family.”

“Indeed,” Riddle said, giving his two classmates a careless shrug while accepting a cup of tea from Harry. “Thank you.”

“We can tell we’re not welcome here,” Nott said with a sneer, pushing himself away from the counter.

“Just be careful who you choose as your friends, Riddle,” Black added, narrowing his eyes while giving Riddle a glare as he followed Nott out of the store.

Once the bell over the door stopped jingling, Harry looked at Riddle with wide eyes. “I’m sorry if I caused you any problems by being here.”

Riddle quickly waved him off. “My classmates are unfortunately raised to believe that muggleborns and squibs hold no value whatsoever. The idea of magical children being born out of squib descendants is difficult for them to accept.”

“That’s a very polite way of saying your friends are pureblood supremacists,” Harry said with a daring grin.

Riddle nodded, unable to hold back a smile.

“Will they cause you trouble at Hogwarts?” Harry asked, realizing that Riddle still had to share a dorm with them for the next three years.

“Don’t worry about that,” Riddle said with a shake of his head and a little wrinkle of his nose. “I can handle them.”

Of that Harry had no doubt. He pushed one of the cakes towards Riddle while he took a big bite out of his own slice. They enjoyed their treats in silence and it wasn’t until Harry sipped his tea that Riddle spoke again.

“What did the Potters say?”

Harry pulled his letter out again and held it out to Riddle. “You can read it.” In exchange, Riddle gave Harry his letter from the Scamanders.

Newt had replied to Riddle with mild enthusiasm and a genuine interest to get to know him. He invited Riddle to have dinner with him and his wife Porpentina, and his older brother Theseus in his London home in two days. Theseus was also an Auror apparently, which would work in Riddle’s favour if those pureblood friends of his tried anything serious against him in retaliation.

“Are you going to meet with them?” Riddle asked, folding up Harry’s letter and handing it back.

“Yes, I’ll invite them over for lunch at our home, so they can also meet my parents. My dad is related to them as well, obviously.” Harry frowned for a moment, unsure if he should open up to Riddle. Then again, who else did he have to talk to about anything, really? “I’ll wait a few days to tell my parents, though. My brother’s been drafted for the service. We’ve taken him to the train station just this morning.”

“That must be difficult for you all,” Riddle murmured, ducking his head a little, as if unsure how else to react.

“Yeah,” Harry said, briefly looking away. “But meeting some new distant family members will probably be a welcome distraction for them, so I won’t wait too long.”

Riddle remained silent for a few moments and then said carefully, “What Black said about Mulciber…”

Harry glared at Riddle and held up his hand at once. “Stop talking.”

Riddle snapped his mouth shut and stared at Harry with wide eyes.

“All I’m going to say is that I have plans for Mulciber, and you’d best not get in my way,” Harry said through gritted teeth. He liked Riddle nowadays, he really did, but Harry was going to take down Mulciber no matter what, Riddle be damned.

Riddle looked down, and gave a few slow nods. “Have at him. He’s an insufferable fool anyway.”

Well, what did you know. Baby Dark Lords could change after all. It was so fascinating to see Riddle slowly but surely start walking a different path, especially because Riddle himself had no idea what he was missing out on.

“The Potters have a potions business,” Riddle pointed out, obviously trying to change the subject. “So they might be able to market that ancestor potion again, so more muggleborns can trace their squib linage.”

Harry blinked and then gave Riddle a bright smile. “I hadn’t even thought about that. I was just happy to meet a potioneer, since I want to start my own potions business once I’m out of Hogwarts.”

Riddle quirked one eyebrow and leaned his hip against the counter as he stared at Harry. “Really? Do you just want to produce potions, or actually create them?”

“Both,” Harry said, refusing to feel any guilt for his plans to pass future potions off as his own creations. “I’ve got some ideas already for a few potions, but I don’t have the means to work on them just yet.”

“Fleamont Potter can definitely help you with that,” Riddle said with a chuckle, his eyes warm as he smiled down at Harry.

“Do you have any career in mind yet?” Harry asked, because he was genuinely curious about the answer.

Riddle shrugged and stared off in the distance for a few moments. “I’m not sure. I love magic. Creating it and experimenting with it, and learning every last thing one can do with it. I’m not sure there’s a magical career like that.”

Harry picked up his teacup and toasted Riddle. “My aunt works for the Department of Mysteries. That’s exactly the kind of work she does, just experimenting with magic all day long.”

“Really?” Riddle looked at Harry with renewed interest. “How does one apply to that department?”

“I’ll write my aunt, tell her about you, see if she can’t put in a good word for you in a few years.” Harry was amazed to see the sheer gratitude shining in Riddle’s eyes. Once again Harry reminded himself that this Riddle was just a 15-year-old kid who barely knew himself or understood the world around him. Gently steer him away from some pitfalls, give him some gentle guidance, and already Riddle seemed to be heading in a whole new direction.

Oh, Harry made himself no illusions Riddle was suddenly a saint or something like that. But Riddle didn’t have to be a saint. He just had to not be a murderous Dark Lord, Harry would gladly settle for that.

Harry finished his tea and started putting his things away. “I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to cook dinner for my family.”

Riddle gave an unexpected bark of laughter. “Now I get it.” When Harry stared at him in confusion, Riddle added, “You can use magic since you’ve gotten rid of the trace, so you’re learning to cook with magic. Hence why you bought those silly books the first time you came here.”

“Hey, do not insult Mrs Ashford!” Harry raised a finger at Riddle in warning, and he was only half-joking. “That woman stands up there with Merlin himself when it comes to attributions made to the wizarding world.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Riddle said with a fond little smile, eyes narrowed in obvious amusement.

“I’ll be back in a few days, so we can exchange gossip about our new magical families,” Harry said, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll look forward to your return,” Riddle replied softly, and Harry gave him a final wave before leaving the store.

Harry had no detailed comparison of how Riddle had treated his friends and had been treated by them throughout his entire Hogwarts career, but it seemed that Riddle wasn’t quite as eager just yet to go along with their pureblood ideals, and perhaps he never had until he created his first horcrux and slowly turned himself insane over the years.

It had never made sense to Harry, how an obviously intelligent young man like Riddle had ever truly believed that pureblood wizards were better than the rest, when Riddle himself was a half-blood yet he had more power than most of his Slytherin classmates combined.

Well, Harry supposed he would find out soon enough how Riddle was going to position himself in the world with regards to pureblood supremacy, now that the basilisk was gone and Riddle probably wouldn’t stumble across information about horcruxes anytime soon. Whatever happened, it was bound to be interesting.

Harry waited two days before he decided to tell his parents about the Potters. He brought his family tree and Fleamont’s letter with him to the sitting room after dinner and showed them to his parents while he explained his theory about muggleborns.

“It does make sense,” Evelyn mused while Martin read through Fleamont’s letter with a small frown. “Carole is also a witch. It would be a huge coincidence for two muggleborn magicals to be born in one family by sheer chance.”

Martin looked up at Harry with doubt clearly written across his face. “And these Potters…what sort of people are they?”

“They’re well-regarded, decent people. Fleamont invents potions for a living, and Charlus is an Auror, which is like a police officer.” Harry gave his father an encouraging smile. “The Potters are your ancestors, too.”

“I’m still not sure how that is possible,” Martin said, now gazing at the family tree in slight bewilderment.

“Squibs join the muggle world and don’t tell anyone they are slightly magical, obviously,” Harry patiently explained. “The magic remains dormant in their lines, sometimes for many generations, until two squib descendants have a child together and there’s then a chance for that child to be magical.”

Martin nodded thoughtfully. “It remains a strange idea,” he finally said and then offered his daughter a kind smile. “But I suppose we can meet with these Potters.”

“How about I invite them for lunch?” Harry suggested. She could easily make a tasty lunch with the limited choices of food they had.

“You could cook up one of the younger cockerels,” Evelyn suggested as she finished reading through Fleamont’s letter.

“Sure,” Harry said, who had never slaughtered an animal in his life. Not counting the basilisk, but that was nothing like butchering a chicken.

Their chickens had procreated in the spring, as they did every year. The Governor was an eager lover, apparently, and had produced lots of offspring with his ladies. Harry selected the meanest of the young cockerels, and then put it out of his misery with a quick bludgeoning hex. Thankfully, Mrs Ashford had a whole chapter on how to prepare a chicken from scratch, including charms to pluck and gut the bird, and Harry put those to good use. Then he boiled the carcass to make chicken soup full of onion and carrots, which would be the starter, and then he used the meat and some of the stock to create a nice chicken pie with onions, mushrooms and leeks all covered by some flaky pastry for the main course.

For dessert Harry put together a simple strawberry fool. It wasn’t an elaborate meal, perhaps, but for war standards with its food restrictions, it was a variable feast.

Fleamont had replied to Harry’s letter at once to tell him they would gladly accept the invitation, and two days later Harry stood waiting a little anxiously, dressed in Harriet’s finest summer dress. By now Harry was used to wearing skirts and dresses, though putting a bra on correctly every morning was still quite the ordeal.

Fleamont and Euphemia, and Charlus and Dorea, arrived right on time, apparating to the coordinates Harry had given them, right outside the Hubbles’ home. Harry opened the door for them while Evelyn and Martin were standing right behind him.

“Ah, there are our long lost cousins,” Fleamont exclaimed, hands raised in a gesture of welcome. He looked so much like James that it took Harry’s breath away for a second. The hair, the nose, the general shape of his face. There was no doubt this was Harry Potter’s ancestor.

Euphemia offered Evelyn a bottle of elf-made wine. “Thank you so much for inviting us into your home.” Evelyn accepted the gift with a grateful smile.

Charlus Potter lacked some of the obvious mischievous nature one could see shining in Fleamont’s eyes and he appeared to be a little more serious. Dorea was clearly a Black in appearance, with her hooded, stormy grey eyes, but she was very polite and seemed genuinely interested to meet some new extended family.

After some general small-talk, about the nature of all of their families, Fleamont turned towards Harry and gave him an expectant look. “So, this potion you discovered…”

Harry grinned at him and picked up the book and pieces of parchment from where he’d put them on a nearby dresser. “I found it utterly by chance in a second-hand book shop,” Harry said while handing over the book to Fleamont and the family tree to Euphemia. Before long everyone was busy taking in all this new information.

“Thestral blood and hair?” Fleamont said in surprise while he read through the potion’s ingredients. “Were you even able to buy those things in an apothecary.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “No, they obviously thought me very strange for even asking. I just snuck into Hogwarts and got some from the herd there.”

Evelyn pointedly cleared her throat and when Harry looked up at her, she gave harry a wide-eyed yet demanding look.

Well, crap. Harry always forgot he was a 15-year-old girl, and not a grown-ass man who could do what he wanted.

Thankfully, Fleamont gave a full belly laugh and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t be related to the Potters, girl, if you hadn’t snuck in and out of Hogwarts at least once.”

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being so stupid to mention all this in front of his parents, Harry gave Fleamont an utterly grateful smile. Evelyn didn’t seem entirely convinced by that reaction, but seemed at least willing to let the matter rest for now. Harry pointedly continued his conversation with Fleamont.

“I was just looking for interesting potions books, when I came across this one. And I’ve always suspected that there’s more to muggleborns than simply a chance appearance of magic in muggle children. I mean, my aunt is also a witch, so that would be a very big coincidence.” Harry was pleased to see he had the attention of all witches and wizards in the room. “I’m convinced that all muggleborns are squib descendants.”

“Have you tested it on someone else?” Fleamont asked eagerly.

“One classmate. He’s an orphan, so he had no idea where he came from.” Harry wasn’t going to reveal all of Riddle’s private business, but he didn’t think mentioning a few things could hurt. “Turns out he had a magical, or at least a squib, mother, but on his muggle father’s side there was also a squib some generations back.”

“Fascinating,” Dorea said as she took the book from Fleamont to page through it herself.

“I plan to offer the potion to more muggleborns at Hogwarts this schoolyear,” Harry continued, very happy to see that his distant relatives seemed onboard with his theories so far. “But I am not yet sure how to offer it to muggleborns already out of Hogwarts. I imagine plenty of them would like to know any possibly magical ancestry as well.”

“There’s no exclusivity rights on the potion anymore,” Euphemia said with a shrewd look. “We could easily produce it and market it. You’ll get a share, of course, Harriet, since you rediscovered it.” Euphemia then looked at Fleamont and patted his chest to get his attention. “You can take Harriet and do a little interview with Ruby Baird at the Daily Prophet. That should get the word out well enough.”

“Long lost family is the kind of story they’d eat up over there,” Dorea agreed with a nod.

Harry was interested to see that apparently Euphemia was the one running the business, and that Fleamont mainly focused on the potions themselves. Still, he wasn’t sure how he felt about getting the kind of exposure that came with having his name in the paper. Then again, Harry was determined to prove muggleborns were squib descendants and thus change society’s perception of them for good, and maybe sacrificing a tiny bit of anonymity was worth that much.

Ducking his head, Harry shrugged, playing up Harriet’s natural shyness a bit, which wasn’t unexpected in a 15-year-old girl.

“We’ll make sure it’s a positive story,” Euphemia said while giving Harry a reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

“All right,” Harry said eventually with a shrug, as though none of that interested him much at all, again playing up his perceived age.

Later, when they were sitting at the dining table, enjoying their lunch, Fleamont turned to Harry. “So you like potions, if you’re going looking for rare potion books in your spare time.”

Harry gave a bit of a shy nod. “I hope to create my own potions business after Hogwarts.”

Fleamont sat up at once, looking at Harry with renewed interest. “Really? You want to become a Potions Master?”

“Hopefully,” Harry said, putting down his spoon for a moment to focus on the conversation instead of his chicken soup. “I have some ideas for some new potions. One is a blood replenishing potion, but I haven’t completely worked it out yet.”

Fleamont sat back in his chair and looked at Harry with obvious pride. “I’ll gladly take you on as an apprentice once you finish Hogwarts, dear girl. I’ll teach you everything I know.”

Harry stared at Fleamont with wide eyes. That was a very generous offer, because lots of Potions Masters couldn’t be bothered training apprentices, or if they did, they charged their apprentices exorbitant amounts of gold for the honour of working for them. So to have a successful Potions Master like Fleamont Potter offer to take Harry on was a very real honour. “Thank you,” Harry said with genuine gratitude. “I’d love to become your apprentice.” Not just for the chance to become a Potions Master, but this way Harry could also get to know his old grandfather and grandmother, which he looked forward to as well.

The rest of the visit went very well. Dorea worked as a healer, and she and Martin spent lots of time talking about their professions, and Evelyn and Euphemia got along very well, since they had the same kind of head for administration and business.

Right before they left the Potters extended a firm invitation for the Hubbles to visit them in a few weeks. Charlus was licensed to make portkeys, so he would send them one to make sure the whole family would be able to travel to Potter Mansion without any trouble.

“They were very nice people,” Evelyn said when she and Harry started on the pile of dishes. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about you sneaking in and out of your school, Harriet.”

Harry quickly ducked his head and vigorously washed some plates while he received a lecture from his mother. As punishment Harry was charged with looking after the vegetable garden, which was still somewhat neglected, and which Harry had already planned to do anyway, so he accepted his punishment gracefully but without any real remorse.

As Harry lay in bed that evening, he was practically glowing with happiness. Yes, he still missed his friends something awful, but he was exceptionally happy that his new life was really starting to take shape. Getting a potions apprenticeship meant that Harry had a very real career waiting for him once he finished Hogwarts, and it would also help him to truly understand the process of creating potions from scratch. So much so, that perhaps Harry would be able to actually create some of his own potions instead of simply passing future inventions off as his own.

Somewhere in the great beyond, Severus Snape was surely frothing at the mouth in sheer disbelief that Harry Potter would ever dare to become a Potions Master in his own right.

Anyway, Harry felt good about himself and the world, and he couldn’t wait to share this with Riddle the next day. He was also very curious to see how things had gone between Riddle and the Scamanders.

Harry brought along his thermos of tea again, and picked up some malt cake from the bakery, since Riddle had seemingly enjoyed that one before, and then he made his way to the bookstore with a spring in his step.

Except when Harry pushed open the door, there was no Tom Riddle waiting for him behind the counter. An older lady sat there, face buried in the Daily Prophet. Did Riddle perhaps have a day off? That was entirely possible. If that was the case, perhaps Harry could visit him in the orphanage, to share their family news.

Harry approached the counter and offered the lady a polite smile. “Hello, I’m looking for Tom Riddle. Is he not working today?”

The lady looked at Harry as though she’d just ruined her entire day. “Your name?”

“Er…Harriet Hubble,” Harry said, unsure why that woman needed to know that.

Without further comment, the woman reached under the counter and pulled out an envelope. “That useless boy left this for you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said in mild confusion, accepting the letter. He quickly left the store and apparated back to Murder Cottage at once. There he sat down at the table and opened the letter, a strange, nervous coil growing in his stomach.

Dear Ms Hubble,

I am sorry to say that we won’t be able to continue our meetings for the rest of the summer, no matter how much they brightened my otherwise gloomy days.

My dinner with the Scamanders was a pleasant affair, and I believe I made a positive enough impression on them that they seemed eager to add me to their extended family. My distant cousin Newt and his wife Porpentina invited me to come along on an expedition to East-Africa, which I eagerly accepted, as I’m sure you can understand.

The choice between spending the rest of the summer in a musty Knockturn Alley bookstore and a muggle orphanage in war-torn London, or travelling to exotic far-off places wasn’t a very difficult one to make, no matter that it meant we would have to forgo our meetings.

I want to extend my genuine gratitude towards you, Harriet Hubble. In a short period of time you have done more for me than anyone else has ever done, and I won’t ever forget that.

Hopefully we will be able to talk again on September 1st, since we are scheduled to return to Britain the day before. Until that time, I ask for your permission to continue our conversations through a written correspondence.

Sincerely,

Tom Riddle

By the time Harry finished reading the letter, there were a few tears streaming down his cheeks and he had no idea why. Stupid hormones. Harry wiped them away with a rough gesture while he sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

Harry was so fucking proud of Tom Riddle that his chest felt like it was about to burst under all this sudden warm pressure. And he was so, so genuinely happy that Riddle wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the summer in that fucking orphanage. Newt would probably be a great influence on Tom, because while Newt was mildly mannered and soft-spoken, he also possessed a spine of steel and more courage than most Gryffindors put together. If anyone could gently handle a potential Dark Lord and steer him towards a different future, it was Newt.

Still, Harry also felt an inexplicable sadness, because he had come to enjoy and look forward to his meetings with Riddle. But Riddle asked to correspond, and Harry would gladly give him permission for that.

As Harry poured himself a cup of tea from his thermos and bit into a slice of malt cake, he realized that Riddle was potentially going to run into some dangerous situations. You never knew what sort of shady people or dangerous critters they might encounter. Perhaps Harry could give him a little farewell gift, to ensure Riddle wouldn’t get in trouble if he needed to use magic.

Harry immediately brewed a dose of aging potion and wrote Riddle a quick letter.

Dear Mr Riddle,

I am so, so happy for you, that your meeting with the Scamanders went so well, and that you’ll be travelling with them for the rest of the summer. I must admit, I am also a bit envious, because I wouldn’t mind getting out of Devon for a few weeks.

I did get some very good news myself during the Potters’ visit. They were a very kind and decent bunch, and Fleamont Potter was generous enough to offer me a potions apprenticeship for when I finish Hogwarts, which I naturally accepted at once!

The Potters also decided to market the ancestor potion, and they’re even arranging for an interview with Fleamont Potter and myself in the Daily Prophet, so we can tell our story. I must admit, I’m not sure I’m thrilled with that kind of publicity on a personal level, but I am happy that this way more muggleborns will be able to discover their magical ancestry.

You have my wholehearted permission to correspond with me, because I will also genuinely miss our spontaneous meetings for the rest of the summer.

As a farewell gift I’ve included something that will break the trace and will allow you to use magic for the rest of the summer without worry. I’m sure you’re clever enough to figure out what it is.

Yours sincerely,

Harriet Hubble

Harry put the letter in an envelope, added the vial of aging potion, and then sent Holly off to deliver the letter. Hopefully Riddle wasn’t yet in East-Africa, or else Holly had quite the journey to make. Either way, Harry looked forward to receiving a reply from his new friend.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Tom didn’t think he’d ever had so much happen to his advantage in such a short time. Naturally, he was suspicious of it, because he’d learned early in his life that good things rarely happened without some sort of dreadful consequences.

The cook at the orphanage passed him an extra apple when he was four after he gave her a drawing he’d made for her at school, but before he was even able to take a bite one of the older orphans had taken it from him by force.

Tom found a small grass snake while they were at a local park for a day out, and he was happy to make a new friend who was eager to talk to him, and within the hour some of the older orphans spotted him and stomped his new friend to death.

And so on, and so forth.

Even finding out he was a wizard was overshadowed by Dumbledore’s obviously negative reaction to finding out he was a parselmouth. Tom wasn’t stupid. He’d seen Dumbledore’s whole face tighten when he’d mentioned he could talk to snakes. Tom had been very careful who he told about being a parselmouth ever since then. He hadn’t even mentioned it to his classmates until his second year, when a fourth-year had summoned a rattlesnake to attack Tom in the common room, because all the older Slytherins just loved making the mudblood of Slytherin’s life as difficult as they could. Tom had simply told the snake to bite the person who brought him there, which the snake had eagerly done, and ever since then his fellow Slytherins had started treating him a bit better. They still looked down on him for his supposed muggle heritage and his poverty, but they also realized Tom had the makings of a great and powerful wizard and perhaps it was best not to piss him off too much.

This was also the reason why Tom hadn’t yet told Newt and Tina he was a parselmouth. Newt genuinely loved all sorts of magical creatures, even those most people avoided like the plague, but Newt also spoke highly of Dumbledore, so Tom didn’t completely trust his opinion to be welcoming when it came to parseltongue.

Aside from that small insecurity, Newt and Tina had been nothing but welcoming, especially when they realized Tom was an orphan who lived in an orphanage. While normally Tom would bristle at the idea of charity, he wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss a genuinely good opportunity when it presented itself. Like travelling to Africa with his distant cousins.

Africa was, as it turned out, very hot and very big.

It was so much bigger than Tom had ever imagined, and the people were so much more varied. The culture in Cairo, where they’d spent a day wandering around waiting for a connecting portkey, was completely different than what they saw in Nairobi, Kenya for example. Tom took everything in with wide eyes and endless amounts of curiosity while he trailed after Newt and Tina, who had apparently been to Africa more than once already.

The food took some getting used to, and some people spoke English with heavy accents that made it hard to understand them. Others spoke no English at all, but that never stopped Newt from communicating with the people around him through intricate gestures and bizarre animalistic sounds as he tried to explain why they were there. Tina, as ever, watched the whole thing with enormous amounts of patience and an amused little smile on her face.

Newt had gotten word that there was an impundulu in trouble near a village in Tanganyika. Impundulus were otherwise known as lightning birds, closely related to the thunderbirds from the Americas. They could summon storms and their feathers were popular as wand cores with many African wandmakers. Their eggs held many magical properties that made them useful as potions ingredients, and over the centuries the eggs had been over collected to the point that the impundulus were now critically endangered.

Hence why Newt was determined the save the one that had gotten into trouble with a local village for apparently causing too much bad weather. Or, as Newt believed was the case, had simply been blamed for bad weather that wasn’t its fault at all. When crops failed because of droughts or unexpected floods, the locals were usually all too eager to put blame where it didn’t belong instead of accepting that sometimes nature caused trouble without rhyme or reason.

Tom didn’t really care why he was there. He’d happily have gone along on the expedition even if Newt had wanted to study the day to day behaviour of the most boring species of African ant.

Parts of Tom were still in slight disbelief that he was even there at all as they put up the magical tent somewhere in the wilds of Tanganyika. The previous night had been the first time they’d camped in the wilderness, and Tom had spent hours wide awake, listening to all the amazing and slightly terrifying sounds of wild Africa after dark. Lions roaring and elephants trumpeting and hyenas whooping.

Never in his life had Tom imagined himself in such a position and he owed it all to the amazing and mysterious Harriet Hubble.

Now there was a true enigma.

After Harriet had offered him the ancestor potion in return for a favour, Tom had racked his brain to remember anything he could about the girl who he’d shared classes with for four years already. Yet he couldn’t come up with more than some vague images of a quiet girl who stuck to the periphery of any situation she found herself in. Tom didn’t think he’d ever even heard her speak before she showed up in the bookstore. He did know she was one of the mudbloods his Slytherin friends liked to bully, but Tom had honestly not paid too much attention to that.

As long as the Slytherins left Tom alone, he didn’t care who they bothered.

Of course, that had changed rather quickly now that he’d gotten to know Harriet Hubble a bit. Somehow the thought of Mulciber giving his special kind of unwelcome attention to Harriet bothered Tom a great deal nowadays, while before he couldn’t have cared less.

Another thing that mystified Tom was the magical connection he’d felt with her the moment they’d pushed magic in each other while making the magical promise. He’d never felt something so familiar before, as though they’d known each other for years and years and she was the most important person to him in the world.

He'd mentioned this to Newt and Tina during dinner a few days ago, to see if perhaps they understood what had happened. Tom worried Harriet may have used magic to influence him in some capacity. But Newt and Tina had merely exchanged an obviously amused look and told him they didn’t think Harriet had done anything to influence him directly. Instead, Newt carefully suggested perhaps Tom found Harriet so intriguing because she was well suited for him.

Whatever that was supposed to mean, Tom hadn’t a clue.

Tom didn’t believe Harriet meant him any ill will, and he was genuinely grateful for what she’d done for him, so he decided to let that strange incident slide. For now.

He’d sent Harriet two letters, after receiving hers giving him permission to do so, and Tom quickly discovered he enjoyed corresponding with an intelligent witch without the need to kowtow to any pureblood supremacy that was expected whenever he communicated with his Slytherin friends.

Tom liked his Slytherin friends, for the most part. Abraxas Malfoy could be an arrogant, selfish arse, and Konrad Mulciber often was an insufferable fool, but Theodorus Nott had a clever sense of humour and Orion Black was surprisingly warm and generous to his friends, and Maximus Lestrange was a master of sarcasm. And while at first they’d treated Tom like they’d treat any mudblood, they had come around over the years and nowadays their friendship seemed genuine.

Still, it was expected of Tom that he shared their pureblood ideals, and up until that point Tom had happily parroted their prejudiced ideas simply to keep the peace. Tom himself didn’t believe purebloods were better than others, especially not now that he’d discovered he was a half-blood himself. Tom was magically more powerful and talented than all his Slytherin friends put together, and that would have been impossible if their pureblood superiority was even remotely true.

But with Harriet, Tom could simply talk about whatever caught his fancy. He could complain about the local food and wax poetically about the natural world around him, and Harriet wouldn’t judge him for any of it, or cast him out as a friend because he didn’t meet some invisible standards of prejudiced behaviour.

It was…refreshing, to be able to just be himself, even through an exchange of letters. Tom genuinely looked forward to talking to her in person again once Hogwarts started.

Tom was busy with getting the campfire going while Newt and Tina were getting their tent set up. Their local magical guides, Ambokile and Darweshi, were setting up their own tent. Ambokile was an older man, mid-fifties at least, and he was their head guide. Darweshi was in his twenties, and he was full of energy and confidence, but he easily deferred to Ambokile when it came to any major decisions that needed to be made.

Just as the sun set behind the horizon, while Tom got the fire going, Tina let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“What?” Newt yelped, running towards his wife at once.

Tina had her wand in her hand, shooting red flares, probably stunners, at something that was moving at an incredible speed towards her. She kept missing, and even Newt, who also shot off a number of spells, couldn’t hit the creature.

“Mamba!” Ambokile shouted in alarm. “Black mamba! Run! They are too quick to curse!”

Tom finally realized it was a snake, long and quick as lightning, that was targeting Tina, now so close it definitely was within striking range. Tom rushed towards Tina and Newt, and yelled with as much command as he could put in his voice, ”Stop! Now!”

The olive-grey snake, which had its mouth opened, showing off why they were called black mambas by exposing its black gums, came to an abrupt halt and stared at Tom while it slowly closed its mouth.

”A speaker!” The mamba glided towards Tom, raising itself up high enough that it could look Tom in the eyes. ”Never before have I met an ape that could speak my tongue. How interesting.”

”It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tom said, because it never hurt to be polite. ”And thank you for not attacking my kin.”

”Oh, I wasn’t attacking her,” the mamba said, ducking its head a little as if suddenly feeling a bit bashful. ”I was simply hunting a rat when I suddenly found myself surrounded by apes. I wasn’t expecting that, so I panicked. Sorry.”

Tom chuckled and aimed his wand at the bush. “Accio rat.” Within moments a squeaking rat came flying towards them and Tom hovered it in front of the mamba. ”For you. As an apology that we accidentally disturbed your hunt.”

”That is very kind of you. Thanks.” And with that the mamba bit down on the rat, injecting it with venom and holding it tight in its mouth while it disappeared into the darkness to eat in peace.

Tom licked his lips and briefly looked down before slowly glancing between the others. Tina stood staring at him with her mouth opened in shock, Newt was looking at him as though Christmas had just come early, and Ambokile and Darweshi both rushed towards Tom with huge smiles on their faces.

“My friend!” Ambokile grabbed Tom in an enormous, bone-crushing hug while Darweshi slapped him on the back time and again. “You have a very welcome talent.”

“To speak to the mamba and to halt it in its tracks.” Darweshi kept patting Tom’s back while Ambokile finally released him. “My cousin is a potioneer that makes the antidote for mamba bites, which only works half the time. Getting the venom of the mambas is the most difficult part for him, because black mambas are the fastest of all the snakes in the entire world and even with magic they are hard to catch, and if you get bitten you will die unless you take the antidote, and then you have a 50 percent chance to live. You, my new friend, could become rich simply by selling venom of all the snakes here in Africa.”

“Thanks,” Tom muttered, unsure how to respond to all this sudden positive attention.

“You’re a parselmouth,” Newt said as he stepped up to them, looking at Tom in awe. “That’s an incredible gift.”

Tom shrugged and ducked his head again. “I’ve never really had a chance to put it to use, aside from chatting with a few British snakes I’ve met throughout my life.”

“I’m glad you put it to use,” Newt whispered, grabbing Tina’s hand as she joined them, still looking a little pale. “You saved her life.”

“Thank you,” Tina whispered, and she gave Tom a smile that lit up her entire face.

“You’re welcome.” Tom wasn’t sure what to make of that strange, warm feeling in his chest.

Later, as they were all sitting around the campfire after a meal of rice, beans and some salted meat, Newt cleared his throat while he gave Tom a hopeful look. “Now that we have a parselmouth as part of our expedition, perhaps we could find a grootslang after we rescue the impundulu.”

“Ooooh,” Ambokile said, eyes wide in the darkness. “A grootslang! They are rare, my friends, but if young Tom here could chat with one of those, we would all be richer than our wildest dreams.”

“How so?” Tom asked, wondering what on earth a grootslang was. Well, he guessed some sort of snake.

Darweshi threw his head back and laughed. “The grootslang lives in a cave filled with diamonds. Talk to it, Tom, and perhaps it will let you collect some.”

“Ah.” Tom looked back to Newt, who was having a whole silent conversation with his wife, which involved lots of frowning from Tina and lots of pointed looks towards Tom from Newt.

“But we have a parselmouth now,” Newt finally said, gesturing gently at Tom.

“How big of a snake are we talking here?” Tom asked, genuinely curious. He wouldn’t mind going to find a rare snake to talk to it. Receiving some diamonds for his troubles was a nice little bonus.

“Huge!” Ambokile said with a wild gesture of his hands, spreading his arms apart as far as they could go.

“At least 60 feet,” Darweshi said, laughing again. “It could swallow us all whole.”

“Newt,” Tina said, shaking her head.

“Parselmouth.” Newt smiled between Tom and Tina as though the decision was already made.

“And where do we find it?” Tom asked, really curious what a 60 foot snake would even look like.

“In the Wonder Hole, in South Africa,” Ambokile said, looking just as eager as Newt. “We can go there once our mission here is done.”

“Sure,” Tom said easily. He didn’t mind where they went, and talking to a giant snake seemed like a perfect way to spend some of his holidays.

“I’m afraid you’re outnumbered,” Newt said, giving his wife an apologetic smile.

“Fine.” Tina sighed, shook her head, and then gave her husband a smile in return that seemed to convey both her frustration and her admiration for Newt.

And that was that. Apparently they were going to look for a 60 foot snake so Tom could chat with it. Tom couldn’t wait to write about what had happened to Harriet, sure she would enjoy hearing this unexpected turn of events.

The next morning, for the third day in a row, they trekked through the wilderness on their way to the remote village where the impundulu was supposedly causing trouble.

“Why can’t we just use a portkey to get there,” Tom asked as he and Ambokile brought up the rear of their expedition.

Ambokile laughed in response before giving Tom a wide grin. “Ah, my young friend, the tribes in this area used to wage war all the time. And then the colonizers came, and they believed they now owned this land. So the villages made sure to ward their territories as best as they could. You can only reach them on foot.”

Tom nodded in response, looking around again at the amazing landscape before them. He didn’t mind walking all day long at all, when the reward was to personally view some of the most amazing animals in the world.

They saw a large herd of elephants more than once. Giraffes occasionally turned up. There were plenty of wildebeests and zebras all around them. And once they saw a pride of lions lazing beneath an acacia tree. The lions had learned long ago that the people in that area could defend themselves, so they left any humans travelling by alone.

And on one occasion, Ambokile pointed out a leopard hidden high up a tree, where it was lazing on a large branch, a half-eaten gazelle carcass dangling beside it. Tom didn’t think he’d ever seen a more amazing animal in his life and not for the first time during their trip wished he had a camera.

“I’m going to teach you how to apparate,” Tina said when they stopped for the midday meal. “I know officially you’re too young for that, but I think it’s more important that you can get yourself to safety instantly. We have no idea what we might run into.”

“Thanks,” Tom said with a grateful smile. Knowing how to apparate would absolutely help him, not just during their expedition, but also back home where it might one day save his life while staying at the orphanage. Being able to apparate away when the Nazis dropped more bombs on London was something Tom looked forward to immensely, especially now that he’d broken the trace, thanks to Harriet.

A fucking aging potion.

The moment Tom had opened the vial and smelled the potion and realized what it was, he’d let out an enormously frustrated groan that had made Newt stare at him in worry and curiosity. When Tom told him about the potion, Newt simply chuckled and said, “Ah, yes, they usually don’t tell you how simple it is to break the trace until after you’ve left Hogwarts.”

That had made Tom groan again right before he drank the potion. Neither Newt nor Tina had objected to him doing so, and that was what mattered in the end.

It took them a whole week to reach the village, and during that time Tom had taken to calling out in parseltongue anytime they took a break or camped for the night. Newt was always right beside him, eagerly waiting to see who or what would turn up to talk to Tom.

Mostly it was green or black mambas, or Egyptian or black-necked spitting cobras, and the occasional boomslang, who all seemed quite curious to meet a talking ape, as they called it. Newt stood at the ready with notebook and quill, asking the snakes all sorts of questions through Tom and writing down their answers meticulously.

Tom quickly learned that the puff adders and gaboon vipers they met usually weren’t all that eager to socialize with humans, but they were willing to make a small donation of venom in exchange for a mouse or a rat. Tom transfigured rocks into vials and milked every snake he encountered, growing a collection of venom that made Darweshi sing and dance with joy.

They also learned that Nile monitors, large lizards which also had forked tongues, could speak parseltongue as well, though they had strange accents, and they were only really interested in any food Tom had to offer. As soon as the food was gone, so were the monitor lizards.

Once a huge African rock python answered Tom’s call. That snake was not at all interested in talking to them, but instead seemed intent on having one of them for lunch. A few stinging hexes quickly changed its mind, though, and it ultimately slid off back into the bush, muttering all sorts of curse words under its breath.

And on one memorable occasion a kongamato responded to Tom’s hissed calls. The huge magical flying reptile cast an enormous shadow as it came gliding down towards their camp, sending Ambokile and Darweshi scrambling for cover while Newt stood gaping up at the sky with wide eyes and a bright smile.

The kongamato most resembled a pterodactyl and stood about as tall as a man once it landed in front of Tom.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tom said, still in a bit of a shock at suddenly being confronted by such a unique animal.

“Pweep, pweep,” the kongamato said, tilting its head back and forth as it gazed curiously at Tom. It quickly became apparent, mostly through Newt’s eager questions, that the kongamato understood parseltongue but didn’t speak it. This bit of information sent Newt into quiet fits of joy.

“No one knew this,” Newt kept saying, long after the kongamato had taken off again. “This is a huge discovery.”

After they had eaten dinner that night and were sitting around the campfire, Newt turned towards Tom. “If you want to keep one of the snakes you meet, I’ll have a word with Dumbledore so you can take it to Hogwarts with you.”

Tom couldn’t help himself and he released a disbelieving snort. “I appreciate the offer, but Dumbledore would sooner eat his own wand than do me any favours.”

Newt frowned at hearing this, while Tina leaned a little closer and asked, “Why is that? I’ve met him a few times and he seemed like a perfectly nice gentleman.”

Tom shook his head and stared down at the ground, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows on them. “Perhaps if you’re not a parselmouth and a Slytherin. But he’s never said a kind word about me since the day he met me.”

“Ah.” Newt gave a thoughtful nod before glancing at Tom. “I had a friend, who was a Slytherin. She complained about this as well, that Dumbledore showed quite a bit of favouritism towards all houses except Slytherin.”

Tom shrugged and stared into the flames in front of him. “I’d like a snake as a companion, but I think it’s better if I wait until after I finish Hogwarts.”

“You are always welcome here, my young friend,” Ambokile said with a gentle smile, while Darweshi nodded in agreement. “Return as often as you like. Someone with your talents will always find friends here.”

“Thanks,” Tom whispered, ducking his head, feeling oddly emotional that apparently there was a whole country, if not a whole continent, that welcomed someone like him, no matter what prejudiced bastards like Dumbledore might think.

They reached the village after a week and were welcomed like kings once word got out they were there to hunt the impundulu. It was a term Newt strongly objected to, but no one cared to listen to his explanations once it became clear they were there to take the impundulu away. A goat was slaughtered in their honour, a huge feast was cooked, and while they ate there was lots of singing and dancing and a few blessings performed by the local shaman.

Tom turned to Ambokile, who sat beside him while they ate their roasted goatmeat. “Are these wizards performing magic in front of muggles?”

Ambokile laughed, as though Tom had just told a very funny joke. “Of course, my young friend. The wizards and the muggles have always lived side by side here in these remote villages. That magic exists is no secret here.”

“But what about the Statute of Secrecy?” Tom asked with a confused frown.

Ambokile waved Tom’s comment away. “The local muggle population already know about magic and have since the beginning of time. There is no putting the crocodile back in the river when its presence has already been spotted by everyone. And once the colonizers came, they thought all the talk of magic in these villages were just local superstitions.” Ambokile threw his head back and laughed. “They were not very bright, these white man who came here, thinking they could now own the land. We simply warded our lands. The colonizers could not steal land they could not see.”

“Clever,” Tom agreed with a chuckle.

Catching the impundulu was a rather uneventful affair, as it turned out. Newt lured it closer with a dead chicken, a bowl of cockroaches and lots of ridiculous calls. He’d created some sort of rune trap, with rocks previously inscribed with runes.

“It’s not a trap,” Newt insisted when Tom had called it such as they were setting it up. “It’s a guide, that will funnel the impundulu inside my suitcase where it will be safe.”

It was a trap, but Tom let Newt believe what he wanted to believe. Anyway, the impundulu came soaring down and disappeared inside Newt’s suitcase without a problem. It turned out to be a female that looked more than a little bedraggled.

“The locals have been disturbing her so much she’s barely been able to eat,” Newt mused as they all took in the thin animal with its missing feathers and dull eyes. “But I’ll get her healthy again, find her a mate and a safe place to live and breed.”

Newt was happy to have his enormous magical bird safely locked up, and after another feast in the village, this time because they’d actually caught the bird, they made the journey back to the closest portkey point, a week of travelling on foot away. Tom added many, many more vials of venom to his collection, and once they were able, they port-keyed to Bukoba, a town on the shores of Lake Victoria, where Darweshi’s family lived, including his cousin the potioneer.

Darweshi’s mother, once she found out what Tom could do, insisted he sit in the place of honour at her table while they had dinner at her house. Darweshi’s cousin Kafil the potioneer also stopped by and just about broke down into tears of sheer gratitude when Tom offered to sell him his collection of snake venom. Gold was exchanged, and Tom went from penniless orphan to young man with enough money to see him through Hogwarts and at least a few years beyond that overnight.

Newt sent him many glowing smiles that evening, while Tina beamed at him more than once.

A huge weight fell off Tom’s shoulders that night, one he hadn’t even known was there. But poverty, as it turned out, put a lot of stress on a person, and knowing that at least for a few years you didn’t have to worry about money provided an enormous sense of physical relief.

They got up early the next morning, to catch the string of portkeys that would get them to South Africa.

“You swear you know where the Wonder Hole is?” Ambokile asked while he narrowed his eyes at Darweshi while they were hanging around during a stopover in Swaziland.

“Yes, yes,” Darweshi said with an impatient gesture. “I’ve seen it myself from a distance when I was part of another expedition. The leader pointed it out to me.”

“All right.” Ambokile went to arrange for the portkeys that would take them to the north-east of South Africa.

They landed in the Richtersveld a day later, where they were met by a desert landscape full of rugged canyons and high mountains. They followed the orange river upstream for a few days, and Tom went back to calling for snakes and filling up more vials with venom, though he didn’t think he’d end up selling those. Perhaps Harriet would enjoy having some snake venom in her collection. Tom could always wrap up a few vials as a Christmas gift. He was sure Harriet would appreciate that more than a gift basket of chocolate or something generic like that.

“There it is,” Darweshi said, pointing at a huge opening on the side of a cliff across a wide canyon. “The Wonder Hole.”

“You can apparate,” Tina suggested as they all stood staring at the cave. She gave Tom a look full of encouragement. “You’ve got more than enough power.”

Tom had only just learned to apparate very short distances, no more than a few yards at a time. But he trusted Tina’s judgement, since she was a no-nonsense kind of person who would always prefer to tell it like it was instead of sugar-coating anything.

“Grab as many diamonds as you can,” Darweshi said, slapping Tom on his back.

“Come back if you sense any danger,” Ambokile added.

“Please ask it as many questions as you can think of,” Newt said quietly, offering Tom a crooked smile while he briefly glanced at him.

Gathering his courage, Tom focused his magic and apparated towards the mouth of the cave. Thankfully, he made it in once piece and he stood still for a few moments as he took in his new surroundings. The mouth of the cave was huge, easily as big as Hogwarts’ main hall.

”Hello, grootslang,” Tom called out, wand at the ready just in case. ”My name is Tom Riddle, and I’d like to meet you.” Tom listened carefully, and almost at once he heard a sliding sound echoing deep inside the cave. Something huge was scraping across the stones and Tom held his breath knowing he was about to meet the biggest snake that might possibly exist anywhere on earth.

A black wall moved towards him at incredible speed, reflecting dark-green in the light, that slowly took the form of a giant worm. Just as the beast was upon him, Tom realized it wasn’t a snake at all but something that resembled a giant eel, with a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth that bit down on Tom before he could even think about apparating away.

Tom screamed in pain as those teeth the size of daggers pierced his thigh and his side. He raised his wand, his arm trembling because of the shock setting in, and he managed to cast a few hexes and cursus, but which exactly they were Tom had no idea, his mind far too clouded with pain to think straight.

As the monstrous eel bit down again, moving Tom deeper and deeper into its mouth, Tom realized with a sort of calm understanding that he was about to die.

His first reaction was a deep sense of fear that sent a chilling wave throughout his whole body, but surprisingly the fear quickly made place for regret.

Tom felt regret that he wouldn’t be able to become the powerful wizard he knew he could be, given more time and practice. But even that feeling ebbed away quickly, only to be replaced with a different kind of regret.

Tom saw, in his mind’s eye, Newt and Tina sitting beside the campfire, smiling at each other, having whole conversations without even uttering a word.

And there, in the wilds of Africa, while he was being eaten alive by a monstrous eel, Tom realized that he wanted that sort of connection with someone as well.

The last thing he saw, before the whole world stopped existing around him, was Harriet Hubble’s smiling face, giving him a cheeky wink right after she’d just threatened to curse Orion Black’s cock off.

When Tom came to again, much to his own surprise, he was lying on the rocky ground, staring up at a perfectly blue sky, the bright sun warming his cold body.

“Pweep, pweep.”

Newt sat near his head, one hand on his forehead. Tina sat near his side, both hands covered in blood while she waved her wand around across Tom’s body. She was surrounded by empty potions vials. Ambokile sat on his other side, chanting in a language Tom couldn’t understand while he moved a leather rattle with bright feathers hanging from it rhythmically up and down Tom’s body. And Darweshi stood to the side, his wand out as he kept an eye open for any threats.

“Pweep, pweep.” And for some reason a kongamato, the huge flying reptile Tom had accidentally summoned with his parseltongue a few weeks prior, was waiting a few yards away, its dark eyes keeping a keen eye on Tom.

“You’re alive,” Newt breathed, sounding as though he was only now able to draw in enough air again. “Oh thank Merlin, you’re alive.”

Tom swallowed against a dry throat, his whole body aching, every bone and muscle making its existence known in the most painful way. “When you told me you were a zoologist,” Tom rasped as he looked up at Newt’s pale face. “I’d imagined your job was a lot more boring than it turned out to be.”

Newt bent his head and chuckled, leaning forward so much his forehead rested against Tom’s chest.

Tom managed a lopsided grin while he looked between Tina and Ambokile, who both looked like they’d aged ten years in five minutes.

“You made a friend,” Newt whispered once he raised his head again. He tipped his head towards the kongamato, which waited patiently to the side. “It showed up out of nowhere and dove straight for the eel, going for the eyes until the beast released you.”

“That’s when we apparated in to extract you,” Tina added with a tired smile. “The kongamato kept the eel distracted while we fled.” She sat back on her behind, releasing a deep sigh. “I’ve healed what I could with dittany, but you lost a lot of blood. And I’m afraid there will be some scarring.”

Tom briefly closed his eyes while he tried to smile at her. He didn’t care about a few scars. He was just happy to still be alive.

Later, once they had a fire going and tents set up, and Tom lay on a cot and drank some hot tea, Ambokile had some very strong words with Darweshi.

“You said that was the Wonder Hole!” Ambokile yelled at a visibly upset Darweshi. “Instead you sent that poor boy straight into the jaws of an inkanyamba, you fool!”

Darweshi gave Tom a pleading look. “I am so sorry, Tom. Please don’t tell my mother. She really likes you. She’ll never let me in her house again if she finds out what I did.”

“Pweep, pweep.” The kongamato gave Darweshi a narrow-eyed look, as though it knew exactly it was Darweshi’s fault Tom had almost been eaten.

“Is it the same one we met before?” Tom wondered aloud as he stared at the kongamato.

“It is possible,” Ambokile said, turning away from Darweshi to sit beside Tom. “It is said they can appear and disappear at will anywhere they want.”

”Thank you for your help today,” Tom whispered, because he was truly grateful that this animal had come to his aid. Without its assistance, Tom doubted he’d have made it.

“Pweep, pweep.” The kongamato moved closer so Tom could reach out a hand to stroke across its long, pointy beak. Then it spread its leathery wings and took off into the sky, leaving a small cloud of dust behind.

“We’ll arrange for a portkey home as soon as possible,” Tina said as she emerged from the tent, freshly washed and wearing clothes that weren’t covered in Tom’s blood.

“No,” Tom and Newt said at the same time. They glanced at each other and both chuckled.

“I want to find the grootslang,” Tom said with determination, even though he still felt as weak as a kneazle kitten.

“Tom,” Tina said, trying to sound convincing even when Newt was giving her pleading look after pleading look. “We don’t even know where to find it. And you do have to go back to school soon.”

“The grootslang will still be here next year,” Ambokile pointed out, not unkindly. “Take your rest, my young friend. You have faced one of the most feared creatures on this continent and lived. You have earned a few weeks of recovery.”

Tom closed his eyes and mulled over all that the people around him were saying. The thing was, Tom felt like a changed man. He was no longer a boy, first of all. And secondly, he had faced his worst fear and lived to tell the tale.

Tom had died, he had no doubt about that. Yes, thanks to the hard work of Tina, Newt and Ambokile he’d survived in the end, but Tom had felt himself die. All his life Tom had been terrified to lose his life, to become just another statistic before he could achieve anything worthwhile. Young, worthless orphan dead, quickly forgotten by everyone around him.

But that was no longer him. Tom had faced his worst fear, which had come to him in the guise of a monstrous eel, and he’d died and returned a changed man. Because before his death, Tom had very much doubted he needed people around him. He’d certainly never thought he’d want to have a family of his own and a partner by his side. He wasn’t a young, naïve boy anymore who still longed to one day meet his real family, or to be adopted by loving people.

Tom had left those useless dreams behind a long time ago, and had decided that he didn’t need anyone in his life except himself.

And yet, when his life had sat in the balance, when his existence was about to end, he’d seen his newly found family and the mysterious girl who’d so quickly wormed her way into his constant thoughts. So perhaps having a family and pursuing a girl were worthy goals after all, ones that did give him a sense of accomplishment and added meaning to his life.

Yes, the more he thought about it, the more Tom was sure he was a changed man. And he wanted to see this expedition through and meet the world’s largest snake.

“I’ll ask some of the local snakes if they know where to find the grootslang,” Tom finally said to an obviously frustrated Tina. “If they knew its location, we’ll go meet it. Otherwise, we’ll go home.”

“But first you will rest for at least a few days,” Tina insisted, much to Newt’s relief who immediately shared a victorious grin with Tom.

While he recuperated, Tom talked to any snake he could find in the vicinity of their camp. He quickly learned that the local snakes called the grootslang ‘the One’, and that he lived a few miles to the south.

They slowly but surely walked towards the actual Wonder Hole while Tom got his strength back. By the time they found the cave Tom felt strong enough again to face a new challenge. This cave wasn’t nearly as inaccessible as the eel’s home had been, so while Tom made first contact, the rest was not far behind.

”Hello, grootslang,” Tom called, again, as he walked into the cave entrance that was possibly even bigger than the previous one had been. ”My name is Tom and I would very much like to meet you.”

”What sort of creature are you, Tom, that you can speak my tongue?” came the rumbled reply from deep within the cave. The voice sounded like a plane engine that was somehow capable of speaking parseltongue, loud, deep and roaring.

Tom grinned at once. At the very least they were now facing an actual snake, so that was something already. ”I am a human, but I was born with the ability to speak your tongue.”

”How fascinating. Approach me, human.”

While his heart beat in his throat, Tom gestured at the others to wait, much to Newt’s obvious disappointment, and then he slowly walked deeper into the cave, lighting the way with his wand.

He saw movement before he even realised how close he already was to the grootslang. What Tom thought was a wall turned out to be the side of the snake.

It was so much bigger than anything Tom could have imagined. It positively dwarfed the monstrous eel. Its head couldn’t have fit through the entrance doors of Hogwarts, and its mouth was big enough for Tom to stand up in, even with its jaws closed. The grootslang was a deep grey colour, with a lighter belly and crisscrossed black markings covering its back.

”You are the most amazing snake I have ever met,” Tom said honestly while he stared at the creature before him. ”Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

”You’re welcome, young human,” the grootslang rumbled, its voice almost too loud for Tom’s ears to process without pain.

Tom asked it some questions, so he’d have something to report back to Newt, but to be honest the grootslang didn’t have much interesting to say. He didn’t know how old he was, or if there were more like him still. He seemed content to slumber in his caves, feeding on the occasional animal that wandered inside his home. Thankfully, that didn’t include Tom.

”Might I take some of these stones with me as I leave?” Tom asked, because he’d seen all sorts of things glittering in the light of his wand and he remembered Darweshi saying the grootslang lived in a cave of diamonds.

”If it pleases you, human, go ahead.” The grootslang coiled its massive body, forcing Tom to run to the side so he wouldn’t accidentally be squashed against the cave wall.

Without pause, Tom started hacking away at the nearest glittering wall with a few charms. He shrunk the rocks that fell away and quickly stuffed them inside his trouser pockets until both of them were filled to the brim with shrunken pebbles. He then said a quick goodbye to the grootslang, who barely seemed awake at that point, and he hurried back to the others.

Newt was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement while Tina released a relieved sigh to see Tom come out of the dark cave alive and well.

“It was so much bigger than I could have imagined,” Tom said while he started trembling now that the adrenaline left his system. “It is so much bigger than 60 feet,” Tom added while he glanced at Darweshi.

“Tell me everything,” Newt said.

Tina quickly grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him away. “First we set up camp, then you can interrogate Tom.”

Newt did interrogate him, and Tom told him every detail he could remember while Newt took furious notes, head bent deeply as he sat with his notebook in his lap.

“Tom,” Tina said once Newt seemed somewhat satisfied and stopped scribbling for a moment. “We’ve been talking and we want to let you know that from now on, you always have a home with us.”

“Yes,” Newt said, looking up at Tom with a serious frown. “You will never have to return to the orphanage if you don’t want to. From now on you can live with us when you’re not at Hogwarts.”

“I…er…” Tom found himself at a loss for words, which didn’t happen very often. Tom prided himself on being able to talk his way in or out of every situation as needed. But now that his newly found family gave him the one things he’d always wanted as long as he could remember (no matter that he told himself he could do without for years now) Tom didn’t know what to say now that he finally had a home of his own. “Thank you,” he finally whispered, and then quickly thought of a way to change the subject. Because Tom might be a changed man, but he still didn’t know how to handle anything dealing with emotions.

“I almost forgot,” Tom said, and started pulling pebbles out of his pockets, enlarging them back into the big chunks of rocks as he went. Newt, Tina, Ambokile and Darweshi stared at the growing pile of rocks while their mouths dropped open. “I think there’s diamonds in there,” Tom said while he unloaded the last rock.

“It’s true,” Darweshi said, voice filled with awe as he stared at the glittering pile. “The legends are true!”

“You are a very rich man now, my young friend,” Ambokile said with a proud smile.

Tom blinked at him, and then realized the others thought Tom was going to keep the treasure for himself. A part of Tom, that greedy orphan that lived deep inside of him, wanted to keep it all to himself. But the changed part of Tom understood that there was more than enough to go around. Even splitting the loot they would all end up very, very rich, assuming the glittering parts embedded within the rocks were actual diamonds.

Tom reached for a nearby rock and handed it to Newt. “We’re going to be rich. We’ll be busy cutting out the diamonds for the rest of the trip.”

“Thank you,” Newt said, eyes shining with pride as he smiled at Tom. “This will allow us to rescue so many more creatures that need it.”

Tom handed the rest some rocks as well and was rewarded with tight hugs from both Ambokile and Darweshi. “I wouldn’t have even known the grootslang existed if it wasn’t for you two,” Tom said by way of explanation while he ducked his head.

“We’re a team,” Newt said with an approving nod.

“That we are,” Tom said while he started hacking away at the first rock of many. It quickly became clear that the glittering parts were indeed rough diamonds and that they’d all become filthy rich overnight.

And while Tom sat there, hammering away at his newly found fortune, he never forgot that he owed it all to one muggleborn witch.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

The rest of the summer flew by for Harry. It was surprisingly a very relaxing 6 weeks now that Harry had covered all the basics for his new life and he could simply go on living it for the time being.

He had a safe house. He had gold in the bank. Lots and lots of gold. Steelclaw sent him a letter detailing the first sales of the basilisk parts and the amounts mentioned made Harry’s mind swim in sheer disbelief. And he had done all he could to gently push Tom Riddle in any direction that didn’t involve mutilating his own soul and becoming a Dark Lord.

Which meant that for the first time in his life, Harry actually had a summer vacation to enjoy. While he’d still been at Hogwarts as Harry Potter, his summers were always ruined by his forced stays at the Dursleys and whatever schemes Voldemort was coming up with. Not to mention a visit from surprise dementors or Death Eaters who crashed a wedding. The point was, during his first adolescence, Harry had never really had a peaceful summer vacation.

And even as an adult, Harry hadn’t really enjoyed his vacation time. He never really went on holiday, aside from one midweek trip to Ireland with Ginny that one time early on in their relationship, where they stayed in a cute little bed and breakfast and went to see the Irish national quidditch team play. But later, when Ginny left him and it became clear Harry sucked at relationships, he never really had anyone to go on holidays with. And he refused to be the third wheel during any of Ron and Hermione’s holiday trips. His best friends worked hard all year. They deserved to spend some quality time together, without Harry tagging along.

Even spending a few weeks a year just simply staying at home wasn’t as relaxing as it should be, thanks to Harry’s fame and the ridiculous articles in the paper and the constant attention he got whenever he simply wanted to spend an afternoon wandering around Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade to do some window shopping or to enjoy a meal away from home.

No, sometime during the past few weeks Harry had come to the conclusion that the holidays he was having now were the first real vacation he’d ever had. He got to explore the Devon countryside to his heart’s content, which he eagerly did. He cycled and hiked for days on end, to keep his new body in shape and build up his cardio, but also because the landscape around him was truly beautiful with rugged coastlines and rolling green hills. He got to practice whatever magic caught his fancy, which involved lots of new cooking charms these days. And he got to spend some quality time with his new family every evening while he played chess with Martin or checkers with Evelyn.

Harry sent letters to all his siblings, and received eager replies in return. He also spent a lot of hours in the Hubbles’ kitchen garden, using lots of spells he found in his gardening book to keep pests at bay and to improve growth. By the end of the holidays, the vegetable garden was producing much better than it had in years, and Harry consulted Mrs Ashford often to learn how to put up vegetables and store them for the winter. And even though Harry would spend most of the coming months at Hogwarts, getting fed by lots of eager house-elves, he was very happy to know his family would have plenty to eat as well back home.

Harry had mixed feelings about returning to Hogwarts, though. On the one hand he was eager to experience the school as an anonymous muggleborn instead of the Boy Who Lived. On the other hand he would be stuck ‘learning’ things he already knew for months on end.

And Harriet Hubble’s life at Hogwarts had, in one word, sucked. She had no friends. She’d been bullied relentlessly. And she’d been sexually assaulted by that monster Mulciber.

Harry had plans for Mulciber, so that asshole didn’t worry him.

What did worry him was being all alone in Hogwarts. In his previous life, he’d always had Ron and Hermione. Whatever happened, he had his friends.

Now, he had no one at school, and Harry vowed to rectify that at once.

Ironically, the first friend Harry had made in his new life so far was Tom Riddle, his once prophesized enemy. Riddle sent him a few very entertaining letters, but due to the huge distances involved, those letters didn’t arrive until at least a week after they’d been sent, even with using express post which Riddle always did. Harry sent him some letters in return, but knew those faced the same problem, so he made it clear to Riddle in his final letter, two weeks before Hogwarts would start up again, that no more letters would follow and they’d simply had to catch up in person.

So, Harry had one friend going for him, however unlikely of a choice Riddle turned out to be. But Riddle had problematic friends of his own and was sorted in a different house, and he’d be a Prefect for the coming year, so Harry had no idea how much time they would be able to spend together while they were at Hogwarts. Which meant that Harry needed to make friends in his own house.

The best candidate for that was Myrtle Warren, Harriet’s muggleborn roommate. During their first year, one might have expected the two Ravenclaw muggleborn students to become fast friends, but their first night in their dormitory, Olive Hornby with her two stooges Patricia Adkins and Daisy Corner had relentlessly made fun of poor Myrtle for her glasses and her hair and her general muggleness.

Harriet had been the type of quiet girl who avoided confrontation at any cost and she’d decided there and then to avoid drawing Olive’s attention no matter what, even if that meant leaving Myrtle to fend for herself. It had worked for a little while, until after a few months Olive and her stooges had started bullying Harriet as well

Harriet had very little confidence in herself and in the world around her, and Harry blamed her parents for that. Evelyn and Martin hadn’t been bad parents, not really. They’d certainly never physically hurt Harriet or starved her or locked her in a cupboard. But they had been absent parents. Harriet was a bit of a surprise latecomer, and Harry got the impression that her parents hadn’t counted on having to raise another baby once they were done with the first three. Harriet’s grandmother had helped out with that after she moved in with them, and while Harriet’s grandmother had cared deeply for her youngest grandchild and did her best raising her while Martin and Evelyn manned the doctor’s practice, Harriet’s grandmother had been a woman full of very old-fashioned ideas.

One of them being that women didn’t need an education other than learning how to cook, clean and make and raise babies. Every time Harriet, who was a smart and curious girl, had made it clear she wanted to learn much more than that she’d been relentlessly shot down by her grandmother, which utterly devastated her self-esteem. So much so that by the time Harriet went to Hogwarts she had no idea how to stand up for herself or how to make friends.

Harry’s heart ached thinking about poor Harriet’s unfortunate upbringing and how much that had hindered her during her adolescence. Well, Harry vowed to change all that. And the first thing he was going to do was befriend Myrtle and offer her the ancestor potion. He was sure Myrtle would be eager to learn who her magical ancestors were. And secondly, Harry was going to put Olive, Patricia and Daisy in their place at the first opportunity, and he’d continue to do so until they stopped their constant bullying of others.

From there he’d see who else in their year might want to start up a friendship. There were a few Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students who had potential.

Before, Harry doubted anyone even knew who Harriet Hubble was, as Riddle had so hilariously demonstrated once Harry revealed himself in the bookstore. But now Harry’s face had been in the Daily Prophet, thanks to Fleamont Potter.

Fleamont was a contemporary of Ruby Baird, a reporter for the Prophet. Thankfully, Ruby was not nearly as ambitious as Rita Skeeter had been, nor as creative with the truth. Baird was a half-blood herself, the product of a muggleborn father and a pureblood mother, and she’d happily taken the ancestor potion to see if her muggleborn father was a squib descendant himself. Which he turned out to be as the potion revealed the name Connor Mcgowan six generations back. The Mcgowans were an old pureblood family whose family name had been lost over the years, unfortunately. It was therefore quite exciting to find a distant descendant from such a family still alive and continuing the line with two young children of her own.

This discovery had ensured the article about Harry, Fleamont and the ancestor potion had moved from a potential small general interest piece on page 3 or 4 to the front page with a nice, fat headline announcing the rediscovery of an ancestor potion.

Plenty of students would have seen that article, which might make it easier for them to remember Harriet Hubble from now on. Harry still wanted very much to remain in the shadows and not draw too much attention to himself, but on the other hand, he also wanted to create a social circle for himself.

Because while Harry had enjoyed the summer holidays immensely, the only thing that had been missing were his friends. And since his old friends were well out of his reach right now, that meant Harry needed to put some effort into making new ones, simple as that.

Fleamont and Euphemia took Harry shopping for his school supplies, since they could easily apparate him instead of Harry having to spend half a day travelling to London by train. Harry learned that his once grandparents were kind and decent people who were genuinely happy to add to their family. Harry knew of course that Fleamont and Euphemia were desperate for a child of their own, but that James wouldn’t be born for another 15 years or so. Perhaps that is why they were so eager to treat Harry as the child they didn’t yet have.

Harry used Fleamont’s generosity of insisting he pay for her supplies that year as an excuse to tell his parents he’d gotten an owl from his newly discovered family and he was finally able to introduce Holly to Martin and Evelyn. Martin seemed a bit wary of having an owl in the house, but Evelyn proved much braver than her husband and admired Holly while even daring to stroke her feathers.

And then September rolled around and Harry got up early to make sure he’d packed everything. He’d already locked down Murder Cottage for the rest of the year and he’d sent Holly ahead to Scotland the previous day. Evelyn made him a festive breakfast of fried eggs and ham and some buttered slices of bread on the side. Harry ate it all, and accepted the corned beef sandwiches Evelyn wrapped in wax paper for lunch on the train.

A knock on the door announced Harry’s transportation.

“We’ve sold 15 vials of ancestor potion already,” Fleamont said with a beaming smile once Harry opened the front door for him.

“Honestly,” Euphemia said, rolling her eyes at her husband before smiling at Harry. “Harriet, dear, are you ready for a new schoolyear?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry said with a chuckle and then grinned at Fleamont. “I’m glad to hear people are interested in the potion. I wonder which families may have discovered some new distant relatives.”

“So am I,” Fleamont agreed at once. “Ah, hello, Evelyn. How are you?”

“Busy as always. A pleasure to see you again, Fleamont, Euphemia.” Evelyn turned to Harry and stroked a warm hand down Harry’s cheek. “Be a good girl, darling and work hard. We’ll see you for Christmas.” And then Evelyn pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and with a final goodbye she disappeared into the doctor’s practice.

Harry had to swallow a few times before he could look at his once grandparents again. This was the first time he’d ever experienced his parents saying goodbye to him when he was off to Hogwarts and no matter that Harry was a grown man on the inside, having a loving mother saying goodbye to you was a moment to treasure for a man who’d grown up an orphan.

Euphemia gave Harry a knowing smile while Fleamont looked around the hallway. “Where’s your trunk?”

“Shrunken down and in my bag,” Harry said, picking up his leather bookbag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m ready if you are.”

“Hold on tight, dear girl.” Fleamont gently grabbed Harry’s arm and one tight squeeze later they stood on the train platform’s apparition point. Euphemia joined them moments later. Harry realized he’d never had family on the train platform before to see him off to school. Sure, the Weasleys had been there a time or two, but no matter how much Harry loved them, they weren’t Harry’s family. Fleamont and Euphemia were, in his last life and his new one, and that gave Harry a bit of a lump in his throat all over again.

“If anything happens, owl us,” Euphemia said while she brushed her hands across Harry’s shoulders and arms. “We can be there instantly and alert your parents as needed.”

“You’re family now, dear girl,” Fleamont agreed with a firm nod. He gave Harry a quick pat on his shoulder. “And we Potters take family very seriously, remember that.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with genuine gratitude, still feeling a little choked up. He could barely meet their eyes for fear of bursting into tears. Instead, Harry ducked his head and blinked rapidly and said goodbye to the only magical family he’d ever known.

Once on the Hogwarts Express, which looked exactly like Harry remembered it, Harry kept an eye out for Riddle. Perhaps if he could find Riddle before his Slytherin friends did he could catch up and hear more of Riddle’s obviously exciting travels through Africa. So far Harry knew Riddle had spent time in Tanganyika, which didn’t ring any bells with Harry when he first came across the name. Then he gave it some thought and realized that lots of names of African countries had changed over the last century due to all sorts of colonialism and countries returning to native rule. So if Harry had to take a guess, Tanganyika was probably modern day Tanzania. Last Harry knew Riddle had been on his way to South Africa, but due to the distances involved he hadn’t received any letters since.

But as Harry walked through the familiar corridors beside the rows of compartments, a little overwhelmed by a huge rush of nostalgia, he didn’t see Riddle. He did see Theodorus Nott, Orion Black and Abraxas Malfoy together in a compartment but he quickly rushed past it. He wasn’t looking for any confrontations on the Hogwarts Express.

Eventually he came across a compartment that held Myrtle Warren and two Gryffindor muggleborns in their year named Annabel Webster and Lukas Croft. Harry knocked on the door before opening it and slipping inside the compartment.

“Mind if I join you?” Harry asked and he was quickly met by a few whispered words of welcome. None of the students gathered there were bursting with confidence, it seemed. Harry sat down next to Myrtle and gave her a quick little smile, which seemed to baffle Myrtle more than anything else. Harry had to remind himself, again, that Harriet had never been a social butterfly and instead always kept to herself, so Harry couldn’t go all out with his Gryffindor personality just yet. Best to gradually get people used to a more social and confident Harriet Hubble.

Harry pulled his wand out of the holster he’d bought for himself weeks ago and cast a silent privacy ward and notice-me-not charm on their door. When he tucked his wand away again he noticed Myrtle staring at him in curiosity.

“It’ll keep people like Olive out,” Harry explained with a knowing smile, and he chuckled when Myrtle’s eyes widened in alarm just at the sound of that name. Yeah, Olive and her stooges were in for some real surprises that year.

Annabel and Lukas were having a whispered conversation about their holidays while Myrtle had a muggle book lying on her lap titled ‘Death At The Bar’. It seemed to be a mystery and crime novel, from what Harry could tell. Harry pulled a small book on advanced runes used in enchanting out of his own bag and opened it, focusing his attention on it instead of forcing conversation right from the start. Let everyone relax a little in their own way first.

Harry had returned to the second-hand bookshop a few times more over the summer, but he never did find a book on pensieves. So eventually he’d caved and visited Flourish and Blotts and found a brand-new book on enchanting that detailed how to build a pensieve.

Which turned out to be horrendously complicated magic that went way over Harry’s head, even though he had gotten NEWTs in runes and arithmancy as an adult in his previous life. But creating a pensieve required extensive knowledge of enchanting, which was one step up even from a Mastery in charms. So Harry had plenty to study over the coming years, which was a very good thing because Hogwarts’ curriculum would probably bore him to death sooner rather than later. Thankfully Harry didn’t need his pensieve until he was ready to start his potions empire so he had a few years yet to become an expert in enchanting.

The train rolled out of the station without any delay, and for an hour or two everything was quiet in their compartment. Until finally, when Harry finished his book and tucked it back into his bag, Annabel cleared her throat and gave Harry a curious look.

“We saw the article in the Daily Prophet. Does that ancestor potion really work?” Annabel asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Yes! Harry wanted to do a little victory dance that his gamble on people being curious about the article had paid off, but he controlled himself and instead offered Annabel a bright smile. “It most certainly does. Would you like to see my family tree?”

All three of Harry’s classmates immediately nodded their heads and Harry chuckled as he reached inside his bag and pulled out the sheet of parchment he’d brought with him just for such an occasion.

“Here’s my connection to the Potters,” Harry said, holding out the parchment between them. “The Graves are a pureblood family that immigrated to the Americas at some point. They produce a lot of Aurors, I believe. And the Feborgs are a Swedish family. Related to Arvid Feborg, a Dark Lord from the 1700s, apparently.”

Myrtle looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re related to a Dark Lord?” she asked in a voice filled with disbelief.

“Yeah, I could hardly believe it myself,” Harry said with a simple shrug.

Annabel shared a loaded look with Lukas. “It makes you wonder who we could be related to, doesn’t it?”

“If you want to know, I brought some potion with me,” Harry offered, much to the others’ surprise. “I made much more than I needed and figured I might as well share what I have left, since you only really need to use the potion once.”

“I’d be happy to try,” Lukas said at once, though he did look a little dubiously at Harry. “What should I do exactly?”

Harry got out a fresh sheet of parchment and placed it on the floor between them before handing a vial of ancestor potion to Lukas. “Add seven drops of blood to it and then pour it out over the parchment. After ten minutes we’ll know who your squib ancestors are.”

Lukas did as he was told, making a very small cut on his finger with his wand which Harry healed for him once he added enough blood to the potion. Before long they discovered Lukas’ magical ancestors.

“You’re related to the Blacks?” Harry said in honest surprise. The first name, four generations above Lukas’ mother, was Corvus Black. The second name, six generations above Lukas’ father was Pedro Cruz. “That sounds Spanish perhaps,” Harry suggested.

Lukas picked up the parchment and stared at it in absolute astonishment. “I’m related to the Black family?” He shared a look filled with disbelief with Annabel.

“Do you have more potion?” Annabel asked eagerly, and Harry got her sorted with her own sheet of parchment right away. Annabel’s magical ancestors were Khadija Valentine and Virgil Cartwright.

“The Cartwrights are an old family, but I’m unfamiliar with the name Valentine,” Harry said, giving Annabel an encouraging smile. “Might be worth it to research its origins.” Annabel gave him a nod and a glowing smile in return.

Next was Myrtle, who kept chewing on her lip and pushing her glasses up her nose as they waited for the potion to start showing names. The first name it revealed was Jacqueline Beauchamp.

“Definitely French,” Myrtle said, looking intrigued by that revelation.

The next name that appeared, four generations above Myrtle’s mother, was Gwion Gaunt.

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered before he could stop himself. Riddle had actually murdered his own distant cousin, one of the last remaining family members he had, and he never even knew it.

“What?” Myrtle asked, looking at Harry in alarm. “Why is that name bad?”

“Not bad,” Harry quickly assured her and then he frowned. “Well, not really. The Gaunts are actually descendants of Salazar Slytherin, but they took that whole pureblood supremacy thing to a whole other level by exclusively marrying their first cousins and siblings.”

Myrtle stared at him with her mouth opened, eyes wide behind her huge glasses.

Harry gestured at her to calm down. “They produced a lot of squibs over the years, so it makes sense for there to be a few of their squib descendants out there.”

“There’s more?” Annabel asked curiously.

Harry looked between everyone and then gave Myrtle an enormous grin. “Guess who you are related to. He attends Hogwarts with us.”

“Ben Bishop?” Lukas guessed when no one else uttered a sound. “He’s a muggleborn from Hufflepuff. I often partner with him in Care for Magical Creatures.”

“Nope,” Harry said, genuinely amused by this very unexpected revelation. “Guess again.” But alas, Myrtle seemed much too shocked by everything so far to even speak, and Annabel had taken to chewing her thumbnail and didn’t seem capable of suggestions either.

“Fine,” Harry said, and then leaned a little closer to Myrtle. “Take a deep breath and hold on tight, because you are related to Tom Riddle.”

Myrtle actually squeaked and went very pale while her cheeks flushed red.

“Wow,” Annabel said as she pressed both hands to her mouth in shock. “Wow.”

Even Lukas looked impressed by that bit of news, and it reminded Harry that during that time Riddle really was something of a rockstar at Hogwarts. Everyone knew him and seemingly admired him.

“You’re having me on,” Myrtle finally muttered, voice wavering while she gave Harry a pleading look. “This isn’t true. You’re just playing a horrible prank.”

“I promise you it’s true, Myrtle.” Harry gave Myrtle his most trustworthy smile. “I tested Riddle myself this summer. I know for a fact he’s related to the Gaunts.”

“Really?” Myrtle asked, still looking terribly unsure. “I have magical family?”

Harry swallowed and briefly pursed his lips as he understood Myrtle’s reluctance to believe she had magical people out there who were related to her. It had been an emotional journey for Harry as well, to connect with a whole new side of his family. Which reminded him of something he should probably check. “Myrtle, have you ever talked to a snake?”

Myrtle shuddered and then looked at Harry in disgust. “Talk to a snake? Why would I do such a thing? They scare me.”

Harry frowned and tried to think of a way to find out if Myrtle might be a parselmouth. “Not even in your childhood? Maybe when you found a snake in the wilds or something?”

Myrtle fervently shook her head. “I’m from Birmingham. We don’t get many snakes, I don’t think.”

“I could conjure one,” Harry started, but he was immediately interrupted by Annabel.

“Don’t you dare,” Annabel snapped, glaring at him with all her might.

Harry quickly held up both hands, admitting defeat. He’d have to figure out a different way to see if Myrtle was a parselmouth. He could always speak parseltongue to her, but he didn’t want to give away his own talents just yet. Anyway, it hardly mattered for now.

Lukas’ stomach made it apparent that it was lunchtime by growling loudly, and they all tucked their parchment away and got out their packed lunches.

“I have a few more vials of ancestor potion left,” Harry said as he unwrapped his corned beef sandwiches. “If you know any more muggleborns who’d like to figure out their ancestry, just send them my way.”

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was pleasant enough, as they talked about all sorts of subjects. They briefly discussed the war happening everywhere. Annabel had an older brother who had joined the RAF as a mechanic who worked on their airplanes, and Lukas’ father worked at the muggle ministry for the Home Office. Myrtle had a younger brother, who wasn’t magical, and her father was a factory manager. She told them that they used to make silverware and other household goods, but that nowadays they produced parts for guns and vehicles for the war.

Both Annabel and Lukas turned out to be huge quidditch enthusiasts, with Lukas hoping to try out of the Gryffindor team that year, since they were in need of two new chasers since the old ones had finished Hogwarts the previous year. Annabel wasn’t interested in playing, since she was a bit afraid of heights, but she enjoyed keeping up with the national quidditch league. Harry had to tone down his own enthusiasm for the sport since Harriet hadn’t cared two knuts about it, but he figured he might learn to appreciate the sport when hanging out with Annabel and Lukas in the future.

While they got off the train, Harry kept an eye out for Riddle but couldn’t see him anywhere. He did spot a very young Hagrid wading through the crowd, already much taller than anyone else. Which reminded him that Hagrid was smuggling a fucking acromantula into the castle, which Harry’s inner adult fiercely objected to. Acromantula were man-eating spiders. They had no business living inside a school. Perhaps Harry could simply do away with the fucking thing entirely without getting Hagrid expelled.

They rode in the carriages and made it to the castle without any delays and still Harry couldn’t spot Riddle, who was quite tall himself and should have been easy to spot in the crowd. Even as they all sat down at their house tables, Riddle was nowhere to be seen. Riddle’s Slytherin friends were all there, including Konrad Mulciber, but Harry ignored him for now. He had plans for Mulciber which would be put into motion in the coming days. For now Harry was getting genuinely worried that Riddle might have been eaten by a bunch of opportunistic lions or something.

Dumbledore led a whole procession of tiny first-years inside the Great Hall.

Ah, Dumbledore. Harry had very mixed feelings about that man, which was probably the reason why he hadn’t even considered going to the man to tell him all he knew about the future or something silly like that.

Look, Harry was an Auror. He was an adult in a dangerous job who often had to make difficult decisions. He understood that Dumbledore had been a general directing troops where they would best serve the war effort and increase their chances of victory. Harry understood perfectly that Dumbledore had needed to make sacrifices, Harry included.

But the older Harry got, the more he realized that Dumbledore had also been horribly negligent when it came to his pawns. Perhaps it really had been necessary for Harry to grow up with the Dursleys for all of their protection. Why couldn’t someone have checked up on Harry a few times throughout his childhood, to make sure he wasn’t being starved inside a cupboard under the stairs? And why had Dumbledore never pushed for a trial for Sirius at any point in time? And why hadn’t he interfered when Umbridge was carving up students left and right?

The list of complaints Harry had when it came to Albus Dumbledore was growing the older he got, and that is why Harry had no intention of trusting the man with any of his secrets. And why should he? By the way things were going, Riddle might very well not turn into a Dark Lord anytime soon, which meant that Dumbledore didn’t need to know what future wouldn’t be coming to pass.

And thus Harry ignored his former mentor and focuses on the sorting while he tried not to worry about the possibility of Riddle having become hyena dinner. Right after the sorting, Dumbledore disappeared through a side door, but Dippet welcomed them all to a new year at Hogwarts and soon enough the tables were filled with food and everyone loaded up their plates while conversation erupted around them.

By the time most people were almost done eating the main courses, the door to the Great Hall burst open and Tom Riddle stalked in.

A hush fell over the hall as everyone stared at the man who had changed significantly. Slughorn even dropped his fork with a clatter, face full of shock and disbelief.

Because somehow, over the last summer, Riddle had gone from gangly teenager to young man, complete with a hint of stubble on his jaw. His skin was tanned to an attractive bronze and his black hair was long and tousled. Riddle wore khaki clothing which was ripped in some places, and which strained just a bit around his broad shoulders.

Harry couldn’t help himself. He stared just as much as everyone else, because fucking hell. He’d thought Riddle attractive before, but he’d been wrong. This was the most attractive he’d ever seen Riddle and for some reason it awakened Harry’s libido, which had been more than happy to slumber throughout the whole summer. But seeing Riddle like this did things to Harry’s body which started throbbing in whole new places.

“I do apologize for my tardiness,” Riddle said loudly with a disarming grin as he reached the Slytherin table. “We were delayed in Cairo’s portkey station. An impundulu got loose and when we finally caught her the officials wanted to have a word.” Riddle released an amused chuckle and Slughorn finally remembered how to breathe while he rose to his feet.

“Welcome back, Tom. You were very much missed already. Everyone was commenting on your absence.” Slughorn gestured at the students to resume eating while Riddle sat down with his friends and quickly spooned a few things onto his plate before the food would disappear to make way for dessert.

Harry finally remembered he wasn’t done eating yet either and he returned his attention to his own plate.

“Are you sure I’m related to him?” Myrtle asked in a harsh whisper as she leaned closer to Harry.

“Yep,” Harry said, some of the shock at seeing Riddle at his hottest dissipating, thankfully. “Distantly.”

Myrtle absently moved a roasted potato around on her plate as she stared at Riddle in disbelief. Harry sympathized. He, too, wanted nothing better than to stare at his once prophesized enemy, but he managed to mostly focus on other things.

By the time dinner was over everyone seemed to have gotten over the shock of seeing Riddle at his hottest yet. Or perhaps people were just getting too tired to keep up their stares and were in need of their beds. Harry certainly felt exhausted and he was happy to trail after the horde of Ravenclaws up to Ravenclaw tower. He and Myrtle didn’t linger in the common room but made their way to bed immediately. Harry knew from Harriet’s memories that Rosemary Driscoll, their Head of House, always held a house meeting the evening of September 2nd.

Unfortunately they weren’t the only ones deciding to head up to their dormitories. Not a minute after Harry and Myrtle entered their dorms, Olive and her stooges arrived.

“If it isn’t the two mudbloods,” Patricia Atkins said with a sneer as they trooped inside the dorms.

Yeah, Harry was putting an end to that at once. Before anyone could say anything else, Harry had his wand in his hand and cast a curse at Atkins, which did away with her mouth entirely but left a smooth patch of skin in its place. Patricia’s eyes widening while she produced something of a muffled scream. Before Olive or Daisy could respond, Harry cast the same curse at them and then crossed his arms while he glared at his bullying roommates.

“My aunt works at the ministry, and she’s taught me a few things over the summer,” Harry said while he looked from one girl to the next. “Most importantly, how to stand up for myself. But also how to curse those who call me and my friend foul names.” Harry gave the terrified girls opposite him a confident smirk. “Here’s how it’s going to be from now on. You call me or Myrtle names? I curse you. You bully us? I curse you. You steal or damage our belongings? I curse you. Are you getting the picture yet?”

Patricia nodded wildly while Olive narrowed her eyes for a second before also nodding.

“Good. If you try to get us into trouble with Driscoll or Dumbledore, I will happily show them my memories of every single instance you have bullied us over the past four years, is that understood?” Harry raised his wand at the girls, but before he cast the counter curse he said, “As long as you leave us alone, I’ll leave you alone. But if you think you can continue to use us to deal with your own emotional shortcomings, you will be in for a few very nasty surprises, I promise you that.”

And then Harry gave them their mouths back and walked nonchalantly into the bathroom to brush his teeth, glad to have gotten the message across so early on. He wasn’t planning on showing off his magical talents at cursing others in public anytime soon, but he had no problem using a few creative curses in the privacy of their dormitory.

When Harry stepped out of the bathroom again to go to bed, he was confronted with Olive’s tits. Beside Olive, Daisy pulled off her bra and now there were two sets of breasts on display.

Underage breasts, even.

Fucking hell, Harry really hadn’t thought this through, had he? He’d completely forgotten he’d have to spend his nights in a girl’s dormitory. For the next three years. While his body was still quietly throbbing from Riddle’s unexpected extra hotness.

Harry was going to have a very frustrating couple of years, he was sure of it. Could girls even get blue balls? Was that even a thing for them? Harry was sure it was, because it was the only explanation of what his female body was going through at that very frustrated moment.

When Patricia also started tugging her bra off, Harry did the only thing he could think of, and fled back into the bathroom.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Thank fuck Harry had remembered to use an alarm spell so he woke up before sunrise. As part of the Animagus transformation Harry had to recite a specific chant every day at sunrise and sundown until a lightning storm came along and he could down the potion which he’d made with the mandrake leaf he’d kept in his mouth for an entire lunar cycle, from full moon to full moon. The day before he’d almost forgotten, since sundown happened just after 8 while they were finishing up their welcoming feast in the Great Hall. Harry had been able to excuse himself to use the bathroom just in time.

Missing just one of these chants meant you’d have to start the whole process over again, which would take at least another 6 weeks and Harry had no intention of doing that. He was eager to fly again with his own wings.

Once Harry recited the chant in the bathroom of their dormitories, wand pointed at his heart as he did so, he decided he might as well get dressed since it was half past six already and everyone would be up soon enough anyway. And this way Harry might be able to avoid running into anymore surprise breasts. Sharing sleeping quarters with a bunch of fifteen-year-old girls was just all sorts of uncomfortable when you were in fact a twenty-six year old man, at least in mind, Harry now realized. So he made a promise to himself to avoid getting dressed and undressed at the same time as his roommates from that moment on.

Another thing that was new was the Hogwarts uniform. In his previous life, Harry had always worn trousers and a button-down shirt under his robes. Now his uniform consisted of a shirt, a knee-length skirt, and tights. Harry was fine with the shirt and skirt, but the tights were by far the most problematic piece of clothing Harry ever had to put on in his entire life. They made bras look easy.

Finally, finally, Harry managed to worm himself into the tights, which were very aptly named, as it turned out. Harry kept pulling on his crotch area because the tights were, well, very tight. In the end he decided to just leave the tights alone and endure while he slipped on his button-down robes.

Myrtle opened her curtains just as Harry put on his shoes. “I’ll wait in the common room for you,” Harry quickly said, because their other roommates were stirring as well.

What Harry had missed during the previous evening was that the walls of the common room, two stories high, were covered in bookshelves filled with all sorts of books. Harry knew from Harriet’s memories that all of these were donated by previous Ravenclaw students, usually at the end of their Hogwarts career. There was a small section of fiction, but the majority of the books were on academic subjects, everything from the Hogwarts classes like charms and transfiguration to obscure texts about alchemy and curse-breaking.

Harry browsed the charms section, looking for any books on cartography. The previous night, as Harry lay awake in his bed for a while, he’d considered a few of the tasks he wanted to accomplish during the first semester back at Hogwarts. One of those was dealing with the man-eating spider Hagrid had just smuggled into the castle. Harry had no problems killing an arachnid that would grow up to populate the Forbidden Forest with its man-eating offspring and thereby disturbing the entire ecosystem. The problem was, Harry had no idea where Hagrid was keeping the acromantula. And Harry didn’t want to waste his time following Hagrid around the castle day and night.

As he was contemplating this, Harry desperately missed the Marauder’s Map. It only took him a moment before he realized he could create a Marauder’s Map of his own. He knew from many conversations with Sirius and Lupin while they were all staying in Grimmauld Place during Harry’s first life, that they’d created the Marauder’s Map using a combination of charms and ancient runes while they used Hogwarts’ wards to determine where everyone was at all times. Harry was sure that he could figure out how to recreate the map with the help of a little research.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough time to do that sort of research. One thing Harry was dreading was having to sit through all those fucking classes again while learning shit he already knew. Hopefully researching things like creating a pensieve and a Marauder’s Map would keep his mind sufficiently occupied so Harry wouldn’t keel over dead out of sheer boredom anytime soon.

Myrtle joined him just as Harry found a book on magical cartography. He tucked it into his bag quickly while he smiled at Myrtle. “Olive and her stooges give you any problems?”

Myrtle beamed at him. “No! They did give me lots of disgusted looks, but they didn’t do or say a thing.”

“Well, will wonders never cease,” Harry said with an equally bright smile. “Let me know if they forget their lesson and give you trouble. I’d be happy to re-educate them.”

“Can you teach me?” Myrtle asked eagerly as they stepped into the hallway, almost tripping over a couple of eager first-years who seemed worried they wouldn’t get breakfast if they didn’t get to the Great Hall before anyone else.

“Teach you what?” Harry asked with a frown. Holy fuck, those tights were absolute torture devices, the way they chafed his groin as they walked down the many flights of stairs.

“Teach me how to cast that curse you used on Olive last night,” Myrtle said, now looking a little worried Harry might deny her.

“Ah.” Harry kept frowning, but for different reasons now. There was an opportunity there, Harry realized. Once upon a time he’d started his own defence group because Umbridge refused to teach them anything. Now he could perhaps start a private defence group aimed specifically at muggleborns and perhaps a few half-bloods. Muggleborns were very much second-class citizens, much more so than in Harry’s original time. They could use all the help defending themselves they could get.

“Yes,” Harry finally said, giving Myrtle a quick grin. “I’ll teach you. Maybe we can get together with Annabel and Lukas as well and practice together.”

Myrtle pushed her glasses up her nose and gave Harry a look as though such a thing as socializing with other students had never occurred to her before.

Merlin, Olive and her stooges really had done a number on both Myrtle and Harriet over the years, hadn’t they? Well, no more. Harry was going to teach Myrtle everything she needed to know to defend herself, from bullies and monsters like Mulciber if she ever needed it.

Breakfast was a loud and chaotic affair. Rosemary Driscoll, a witch in her forties with curly blond hair she kept pinned up, was their Head of House and also the professor of Arithmancy. She handed out timetables and distracted Harry long enough that he missed Riddle’s entrance. After Harry was done examining their new schedule, he folded the paper and looked up and met Riddle’s gaze across the tables. Riddle had positioned himself in a way that he had a perfect view of Harry and when he noticed Harry looking at him, he offered a smile bordering on a smirk and a cheeky wink.

Harry blinked while his cheeks heated up, something he couldn’t stop from happening. To counteract the fact that fucking Tom Riddle had made him blush, Harry glared in response and took a very aggressive sip of his cup of tea, never breaking eye contact with that enormous twat.

This seemed to amuse Riddle to no end and his smile definitely turned into a smirk while his dark eyes seemed to shine with undiluted joy.

“Did Riddle just wink at you?” Myrtle whispered in astonishment.

“Don’t be absurd,” Harry all but snapped. “He probably still got sand stuck in his eye from his travels. There’s lots of sand in Africa, or so I’ve heard.”

Myrtle gave Harry a look that made it clear she sincerely doubted his sanity, but Harry ignored her and went back to taking very combative sips of tea. Riddle spooned scrambled eggs onto his plate, still smiling like he was magic’s gift to mankind, the arrogant sod.

Myrtle wasn’t the only person who’d noticed the exchange between Riddle and Harry, since it seemed that half the school had made it a hobby of sorts to closely observe every single fucking thing Tom Riddle ever did. And all those people certainly noticed Riddle smiling and winking at some nobody mudblood Ravenclaw for no reason at all.

Harry poured himself another cup of tea with a sigh, because now half the Great Hall was looking between him and Riddle in confusion and obvious jealousy.

When Harry had started this new Hogwarts adventure he’d genuinely looked forwards to being just another student who no one paid any attention to. And here Tom fucking Riddle had ruined that in just about three seconds, that gigantic pisser.

Harry had never been very socially literate in his previous life, but even he had picked up on the sheer amount of drama that went on amongst the teenagers once they were all old enough to notice each other in ways that went beyond friendship. When Ron had dated Lavender, even Harry found the whole thing embarrassing more times than not, and he’d certainly felt bad for Hermione. And yet he’d also been able to see the hilarity in Wonwon snogging Lavlav all day long and he, too, had become caught up in their latest relationship drama.

Not to mention his own irrational thoughts in sixth year when he’d first developed a crush on Ginny while she’d still been dating Dean.

And then they’d all grown up and their fascination and addiction to knowing who was snogging who had waned considerably. After his relationship with Ginny had been on the outs for the umpteenth time and seemed to stay on the outs for good, Harry hadn’t been all that upset that Ginny had started seeing Dean again. He loved her, but he’d accepted that they just didn’t work, and he was happy for her that she’d found a kind and decent bloke like Dean again.

And when Harry had started a friends with benefits relationship with Lavender, Hermione had rolled her eyes very long and very hard and then asked him, with an enormous smirk, if Lavlav had given him any necklaces yet. They’d both had a good laugh about that one. Ron hadn’t minded either when Harry told him. During a private moment between just the two of them, Ron had asked him how Lavender was in bed, and when Harry told him she gave the best blowjob ever, Ron did seem to regret he’d never done more than snogging with Lavender when they’d dated.

And that was that, because they were all adults and understood that there was much, much more to life than keeping up with who was snogging who.

Except now Harry was fifteen again, after a fashion, and he was stuck at school, surrounded by nothing but teenagers who all lived and breathed relationship drama, real or imagined.

Harry drank more tea until it was time to go back to Ravenclaw tower to get their books for the day. He very firmly ignored all the whispers and pointed stares around him, and he was secretly grateful that living as Harry Potter had more than prepared him to deal with all this unwanted attention. Most reactions seemed to consist of confusion and shock that Tom Riddle would bestow such direct attention upon little mudblood Harriet Hubble.

Keeping his head up high, Harry marched out of the Great Hall, Myrtle hurrying to catch up with him. Just outside the doors, Riddle stood with his Slytherin cronies gathered around him. Harry studiously ignored him as not to give all the bystanders anymore fuel for their gossip. Their tongues were loose enough as it was.

Mulciber took a step closer to Harry while giving him a leer. “I’ll come looking for you again soon, mudblood.”

Harry stared straight ahead, whipped out his wand, released a burst of magic that sent Mulciber flying into the wall behind him, and tucked his wand away again, all without breaking his stride. Mulciber smashed into the wall with a surprisingly loud smack, not hard enough to knock him out, but certainly hard enough to make him see stars for a good long while.

As Harry climbed the stairs, he heard Riddle burst out in laughter behind him and somehow that sound made Harry grin like a loon.

Harry was no fool. He knew that publicly embarrassing Mulciber like that would have consequences. In fact, he was counting on it. He had plans for Mulciber, and he needed Mulciber to come to him during a quiet moment to get those plans started.

“Wow,” Myrtle breathed as she was barely able to keep up with Harry on their way to their dormitories. “How did you do that? You didn’t even say a spell out loud.”

“I didn’t even use a spell. I just released some magic,” Harry said, falling into teaching mode without even realizing it. “Sometimes you find yourself in trouble so quickly, you don’t have time to say or even think of an appropriate spell. Being able to use raw magic keeps you safe in such situations.” Harry glanced at Myrtle over his shoulder and gave her an agreeable smile. “And yes, I’ll teach you that as well.”

Myrtle looked very happy at that news, before her face fell and she seemed suddenly filled with worry. “I don’t know if it was such a good idea to attack those Slytherins like that, though. They’re bad enough as it is already.”

Harry stopped walking as they reached the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower and he narrowed his eyes at Myrtle. “Riddle aside, those Slytherins are all pieces of scum. But Mulciber… Mulciber is a monster. Stay away from him.”

Myrtle nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I’ve heard some very disturbing rumours about him.”

Swallowing, Harry gave Myrtle a measured look. “Those aren’t rumours, those are facts. Just watch your back, Myrtle.”

Myrtle paled a little while Harry glared at the enchanted doorknocker.

“What month of the year has 28 days?” the doorknocker asked.

“February,” Harry replied with an irritated sigh. He much, much preferred the Fat Lady’s portrait opening for a simple password than having to answer riddles all the fucking time.

“Wrong,” the doorknocker said.

“What the fuck?” Harry snapped before he could help himself.

“All of them,” Myrtle said with a nervous giggle, and that fucking doorknocker just nodded amicably before the door opened right up.

“That bloody thing,” Harry muttered as he followed Myrtle this time to get their books. It was going to be a real bother trying to get into the tower for the next three years, Harry could just tell.

Their first class was double Transfiguration, and Harry was slightly surprised to see Dumbledore standing behind the desk in the classroom. Of course, Dumbledore had been the Transfigurations professor for decades before he’d become headmaster. Harry knew this, but he’d completely forgotten it somehow. Life had been rather hectic ever since he’d been reborn, so Harry blamed his poor memory on all the stress he’d been under recently.

“Welcome back,” Dumbledore said with a wide smile as he gestured them all into the classroom. They shared the class with the Hufflepuffs. Harry and Myrtle settled down at a desk in the middle of the room. While he kept his head down as he got his book and parchment out, Harry observed Dumbledore from the corner of his eyes. Aside from his auburn hair and youthful face, Dumbledore did look very much like the man Harry had known. Thankfully, Harriet Hubble had been a quiet girl in all her classes, and she’d never drawn Dumbledore’s attention in any way, shape or form. Harriet was a good student, but she wasn’t exceptional and Harry meant to keep it that way.

Dumbledore had them go over some of the magic they’d learned the previous year, to make sure they all remembered what they’d learned so far. Harry had no problems with any of this magic, and neither had most other students. After that, Dumbledore spent some time lecturing on vanishment, which he reminded them was something that came up in the OWLs.

Lunch was another loud affair, and Harry wondered if perhaps he simply wasn’t used to the level of noise a hall full of teenagers made anymore. Mulciber kept glaring at Harry, his eyes almost fever-bright with the intent to see Harriet Hubble brought down in every painful way possible. Riddle, surprisingly, kept glaring at Mulciber in return. Harry simply ignored the whole lot of them, Riddle included. He was still miffed that Riddle’s actions had made Harry the centre of everyone’s attention that day.

Harry would have kept ignoring Riddle, if it wasn’t for the fact that their next class was double Ancient Runes and electives were shared between all four houses. And Myrtle apparently always sat with Annabel Webster, the Gryffindor muggleborn Harry had met on the train. That left Harry sitting at a desk alone, but not for long because Riddle quickly slid into a seat beside him.

Grimacing, Harry shifted in his seat a few times while he glanced at Riddle.

“Are you all right?” Riddle asked with a worried frown as students trickled inside the classroom and found their seats.

Harry grimaced again and then just sighed. “Riddle…”

“Tom,” Riddle said quickly with a pointed look. “We’ve been corresponding for more than a month. I’d appreciate it if you called me by my first name.”

“Fine,” Harry said after some thought. He didn’t care what he called his former prophesized enemy. “Tom. Have you ever worn tights?”

Tom blinked large, brown eyes at Harry. “I can’t say that I have, no.”

Harry bit his lip as he shifted on his seat again. “Well, let me tell you, they’re horrible contraptions designed to torture women, I’m sure of it.”

“Ah.” Tom looked like he was trying not to laugh. “So your tights are too… tight?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Harry said, unable to hold back his own grin. “They chafe. I hate them.”

Tom briefly pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, as though trying to hide his grin. “I’m surprised dear Mrs Ashford hasn’t offered you a magical solution to your problem yet.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Tom in absolute amazement. Of course! Mrs Ashford would almost certainly have a spell that would deal with chafing tights. Harry couldn’t be the only person who hated the fucking things. At once, Harry snatched up his bookbag and rummaged through it, hoping against hope he’d put Mrs Ashford’s compendium in there.

“I’m truly surprised you’re not lugging your magical bible around with you all day. Disappointed, even,” Tom said, trying very hard to maintain a serious expression and failing miserably.

Harry dropped his bag to the ground and gave Tom a mock-glare. “It’s a very big and heavy book, so I keep it in my trunk. But thank you for reminding me that Mrs Ashford is, without question, the second coming of Merlin, and that she’ll be able to help me with my chafing issues before the day is done.

“You’re very welcome,” Tom said with a bit of a smirk, but then their professor walked inside the classroom and he couldn’t say anything more.

Milton Yates dropped a pile of books and scrolls onto his desk while he looked around the classroom. He was a fairly young man, couldn’t be out of Hogwarts for more than a decade, and he reminded Harry of Remus Lupin in some ways. He seemed to be a man who enjoyed academics to the point of minor personal neglect. His brown hair was not quite completely styled, his tie wasn’t knotted tightly enough, and his glasses were always smudged just enough that it was noticeable.

He was quite an attractive man, if you were into distracted nerds who spent most of their attention on their profession instead of on you.

“This year we’re going to go through everything you need to know for your OWLs,” Yates said as he rummaged through the scrolls on his desk. “But you are also going to create a private project with a partner.”

Beside Harry, Tom visibly perked up before giving Harry an almost triumphant grin.

Sighing, Harry shook his head. It seemed he had a partner. But then Harry realized that perhaps he could rope Tom into helping him create a Marauder’s Map. It used runes, along with a few other things.

Yates lectured on a few subjects Harry already knew because he had a fucking NEWT in Ancient Runes, so while listening with half an ear, Harry paged through his runes textbook in search of rune sequences they might be able to use for the map. Finally, halfway through the second hour, Yates let them pick partners and discuss ideas for their projects.

“I have an idea,” Harry said while he got his wand out. He quickly cast a few wordless privacy charms because he didn’t want anyone to overhear them.

Tom watched this quietly, eyes keen as he observed Harry casting magic without uttering a sound. Harry kept forgetting that at Hogwarts the students didn’t start learning non-verbal magic until sixth year. “What’s the idea?” Tom finally asked.

“A map of Hogwarts,” Harry said, unable to hold back an excited smile as he leaned closer to Tom. “That shows everyone’s positions in real time.”

Tom’s eyes widened for a moment before he narrowed them in obvious thought. Harry could practically see his mind analysing the feasibility of such an idea. “You’d have to tap into Hogwarts’ wards,” Tom finally said, and he sounded quite intrigued, so Harry counted that as a win.

“Sure,” Harry easily agreed. “I think it could be made with a combination of charms and runes.”

“Possibly, yes,” Tom agreed slowly and then he gave Harry a calculating look. “The real question is, would you want such a map to be a public class project?”

Harry blinked and sat back as the meaning of Tom’s words registered in his mind. If they created the map as an official class project everyone would know it existed, including the staff. “Ah, crap,” Harry muttered with a heavy frown. “You’re right. I want to make that map, but I don’t want people to know about it.”

“Yes, your array of privacy charms you just cast certainly suggest that,” Tom drawled before giving Harry a lopsided grin. Ugh, the more Harry looked at the man, the more handsome he became. What strange witchcraft was that?

“Okay, fine, no map for the project,” Harry sighed in defeat. “How about we make a pensieve?”

Tom waved Harry’s suggestions away with his hand as he shook his head. “There are plenty of books that detail how to create a pensieve. The challenge is to create something new.”

Shrugging, Harry sat back in his chair, tights pinching horribly. It was worth a shot, trying to get Tom to help him build a pensieve. “All right, what do you suggest then?”

Tom’s eyes gleamed with ambition bordering on madness. “A magical portal.”

“Er…” Harry blinked and stared at Tom in confusion. “Could you elaborate?”

Leaning closer, Tom lowered his voice which did some unexpected things to Harry’s nether regions, tights be damned. “When the impundulu got loose at the Cairo portkey station, Newt had a hard time catching her because she was panicked and flew too quickly and erratically. Before Newt could set up his rune trap that would funnel her into his suitcase, she was already gone. I want to create a portal that would lead from one spot to another instantly.”

“Keep talking,” Harry said, genuinely intrigued by that idea.

Tom’s smile was absolutely radiant. “We use the same theory as with rune traps, except it opens a portal between different locations.”

“Huh.” Harry was impressed just by the idea. “If we can pull that off…”

“I know,” Tom said, his whole face radiating smugness. “We’d change the wizarding world.”

“Well,” Harry said with a dubious look. “I wouldn’t go quite that far, but we’d certainly put portkeys out of business.”

Tom threw his head back and laughed, which made Harry chuckle as well.

If anyone could pull off creating a magical portal, it was probably Tom Riddle. Harry realized that Tom Riddle might very well be able to change the wizarding world as long as he didn’t accidentally turn himself insane along the way and become a murderous madman. Tom was a certified genius. Even Dumbledore, who was no slouch in the intelligence department himself, had called Tom Riddle perhaps the most brilliant student to ever walk Hogwarts’ halls.

Tom Riddle had the makings of a wizard who could actually change the wizarding world, and Harry would get to watch it all happen.

Suddenly, spending three years at Hogwarts didn’t seem like such a boring endeavour anymore now that Harry could spend some of that time simply watch Tom create things with magic that no one else had before.

“All right, let’s make a portal,” Harry agreed, his chest warming with enthusiasm and genuine fondness for the young man in front of him, who’d already improved himself so much over such a short period of time.

They spent the rest of the class talking about their idea, with Tom sketching out the rune traps so Harry understood how they worked. And thanks to his Ancient Runes NEWT, Harry had no problems keeping up with Tom’s explanations and suggestions.

Once the bell signalled the end of class, Harry was genuinely disappointed that his time with Tom already came to an end for the day. “We’ve got an hour of history next,” Harry said with regret clear in his voice.

“You have my sympathies,” Tom said with a chuckle as they gathered their books. “Perhaps later we can meet up in the library?”

“Sure,” Harry said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. He was about to follow Tom out of the classroom when he remembered something rather important. He quickly grabbed Tom’s wrist and all but dragged him out of the classroom so they’d have some privacy away from the other students. Tom came willingly, seemingly amused by Harry’s sudden kidnap attempt. “I found another Gaunt descendant!” Harry said in an urgent whisper once they were far enough away from the others.

Tom’s eyes widened and he seemed genuinely shocked by that news. “Really? There’s more of that side of the family?”

“Yep.” Harry was very happy to see that Tom seemed shocked but also carefully excited about that news. “I can introduce you in the library later, if you want.”

Tom glanced down at his shoes while he gave a slow nod. “Yes. Thank you.” He glanced up at Harry, suddenly looking like a shy little boy. “I don’t think I’ve told you this enough, but thank you. You’ve changed my life.”

If there was one thing Harry had never mastered, it was the art of receiving compliments and gratitude. So he shrugged and ducked his head and mumbled, “Sure, you’re welcome. See you later!” And then he fled the scene, so to speak. Myrtle was waiting for him at the end of the hallway, eyes wide as though Harry merely spending a class in Tom’s presence somehow gave him divine status or something ridiculous like that.

“I told Tom we’d meet up in the library later,” Harry said to a dumbfounded Myrtle. “He’s eager to meet his long lost Gaunt cousin.

“Oh my god,” Myrtle muttered, face pale in obvious shock. “Oh my god, I’m not ready.”

“Yes, you are. Tom doesn’t bite.” Harry briefly squeezed his eyes shut when he remembered that in a different life, Tom had actually killed Myrtle. That was before. That was in the past. That was never, ever going to happen now, Harry would make sure of it.

For the whole duration of history, already taught by a ghostly Binns, Myrtle seemed to be in a slight panic. Harry had to hold onto her elbow and gently guide her to the library where they found Tom already waiting at an empty table. Black, Nott and Malfoy were seated a few tables away, doing their homework. Lestrange and Mulciber were nowhere to be seen, thank fuck.

Tom smiled up at Harry and then gave Myrtle a curious look.

“Tom, may I introduce your long, lost cousin Myrtle Warren,” Harry said, unable to stand still out of sheer excitement. “Myrtle, this is Tom Riddle, whose mother is a Gaunt.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tom said politely.

“Erp,” Myrtle chirped, cheeks flaming red. “Likewise.”

“Show him your family tree,” Harry suggested as they all sat down.

Myrtle was staring at Tom as though she’d just met her favourite celebrity and was terrified of making a fool of herself if she opened her mouth again. “Yeah, all right.” Myrtle pulled the parchment out of her bag and opened it up on the table.

“Gwion Gaunt,” Tom muttered as he examined the family tree. He glanced up and gave Harry a questioning look.

“Don’t look at me,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I’ve never heard of him.”

Tom nodded and went back to staring at the parchment. “It is a few generations back, so I doubt anyone alive today would personally know him.”

Just then, Annabel and Lukas, the muggleborn Gryffindors, came shuffling up to the table, giving Tom disbelieving looks while trying to get Harry’s attention.

“Hi!” Harry said brightly, just as Tom disappeared into the stacks to find genealogy books.

“You said you had more of that potion,” Annabel said, gesturing at two students behind them. “These are Ben Bishop and Arnold Wells from Hufflepuff.”

“Sure, I’ve got some left,” Harry said agreeably, happy enough to help more muggleborns find their squib ancestors.

So while Tom and Myrtle started looking for Gwion Gaunt in a number of genealogy books, Harry helped Ben and Arnold use the ancestor potion. They both had magical ancestors, as expected, but neither had any shocking names pop up.

Harry invited the four students to join them at their table. This way he could get to know them and eventually perhaps suggest they join his private defence club that he was still planning on setting up.

Just then a loud clap of thunder sounded outside, startling just about everyone in the library.

A lightning storm! That’s what Harry needed to complete his Animagus transformation. At once, Harry jumped up, startling everyone at their table all over again.

Tom looked at Harry in alarm when Harry backed away from the table in a hurry. “Everything’s fine!” Harry all but yelled. “Bathroom break!” And then he couldn’t contain himself anymore and he ran from the library all the way to Ravenclaw tower.

“What is always in front of you but can’t be seen,” the doorknocker asked. What did that even mean?

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry snarled. “I’m a fucking Ravenclaw! Let me in!”

“Wrong,” the doorknocker said.

Gritting his teeth, Harry banged on the door. “Open the fuck up, you ridiculous thing.”

“What goes up but never comes down?” the doorknocker asked.

“Who the hell came up with this shit?” Harry wondered out loud while throwing both hands up in frustration. “I doubt the staff has patience for this.” Then Harry realized something. If the staff wouldn’t have patience for it, he doubted the Founders would have put up with it.

”Open,” Harry hissed, and what do you know, the door actually opened because Salazar Slytherin must have been just as impatient as Harry was so he added parseltongue overrides to the whole bloody castle. Perhaps for the first time in his existence, Harry thought Salazar Slytherin was indeed the greatest of the Founders after all.

Harry rushed up to his dormitory and he was very relieved to find it empty. He got the potion from his trunk and retreated to the bathroom. He locked the door with a simple spell, just to keep anyone from accidentally disturbing him.

It wasn’t recommended to take the potion by yourself, because lots of things could go wrong. But Harry wasn’t worried that he’d get stuck or something, because he knew what to expect and how to transform.

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry recited the chant one last time and then downed the potion. Warmth spread throughout his body like eager tentacles until his entire body felt as though he was standing just a little too close to the fireplace. Harry inhaled again, eyes closed, and searched for his inner animal.

Instead of feathers, which he expected to find, he encountered fur. Wild, long fur.

Huh.

That was new, but perhaps it made sense that Harriet Hubble wouldn’t transform into a bird. Harry had always loved flying and longed for freedom. Harriet Hubble didn’t care much for flying and she had a large, loving family she felt safe with. While Harry’s soul was his own, his body wasn’t anymore, so it perhaps made sense that his Animagus form had changed significantly as well.

Only one way to find out.

Harry pressed into that fur, wrapped it all around him and then he pushed and pushed until he felt his body shift and he fell down on all fours until a deafening roar echoed throughout the bathroom.

The first thing Harry noticed was that he wasn’t small by any means. The second thing he saw were large, beige paws with soft, rounded toes. But the moment he moved his muscles, razor-sharp claws emerged.

Slowly, Harry moved in front of the large mirror that hung on the far wall and he came face to face with an enormous lion.

A lion with a thick, wild black mane.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Harry stared at himself in the mirror in shock.

He was a lion. A huge, male lion.

How the hell did that happen?

Of course, the Animagus transformation reflected a person’s inner personality. As Harry Potter that had meant an animal capable of flying, a predator but also a scavenger, because Harry Potter was nothing if not opportunistic. For Harry Potter a red kite had made perfect sense.

But Harry wasn’t simply Harry Potter anymore. He now lived in Harriet Hubble’s body and he had her memories, and they’d inevitably influenced him in some ways, even if he hadn’t noticed it in detail just yet. Harriet was a person in need of protection even if she already lived in her own large pride, also known as her loving family.

And Harry Potter had always been a protector, eager to fight the good fight to keep his loved ones safe. That hadn’t stopped once Voldemort had been defeated and Harry’s prophesized destiny had come to a successful conclusion. Harry had become an Auror of his own free will, and he loved his job. Well, he loved investigating crime scenes and tracking down criminals and interrogating suspects. He could do without all the politics and bureaucracy and the constant attention from his adoring fans.

The point was that Harry becoming a lion made perfect sense, especially when taking into consideration that on the inside Harry very much was still a Gryffindor, even though Harriet had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

And that he turned out to be a male lion…well, that reflected his inner personality rather perfectly, too, didn’t it?

Because Harry still thought of himself as a man. He couldn’t help it. He’d now been living inside a female body for over two months, and while he seemed to have accepted his new lot in life reasonably well, he couldn’t help how he felt on the inside.

He accepted that he no longer had a penis, he dealt with his periods as best as he could (mostly thanks to the pain potion which did wonders as it turned out), and he’d made his peace with putting on a bra every single day. He didn’t even mind that others saw him as a girl and addressed him as such.

He was doing as well as could possibly be expected of him, considering that he’d woken up in the body of the opposite gender that previously belonged to a complete stranger.

But despite all of that, Harry couldn’t stop identifying as a man, and he wondered if that would ever change. Especially now that his Animagus form betrayed his inner feelings in such an obvious way. Only male lions had manes, after all. Not that anyone even knew Harry was trying to become an Animagus, so Harry could very easily keep this new talent to himself. And as long as he didn’t go and register his Animagus form at the Ministry, no one would ever find out.

Harry would miss being a red kite and flying by using his own wings, but being a huge lion was rather impressive, too, if Harry was honest with himself. If he ever found himself in a situation where he didn’t have his wand yet needed to fight for his life, his opponents would be in for a very nasty surprise from now on. That thought certainly made Harry smile, which translated to the lion briefly raising his lips in what seemed like a half-hearted snarl.

The lion’s instincts were interesting as well. Harry suddenly felt very protective, even more so than he usually did, over the people who mattered to him. He also felt like running and hunting and tearing down prey. And he wouldn’t mind taking a long, lazy nap under a tree somewhere.

Harry quickly pushed back into himself and shifted until he stood on two legs again. When first transforming the animal’s instincts could become overwhelming to the point one could lose themselves in being the animal and forget to shift back into a human. Best to keep the first couple of transformations short for that reason.

Cancelling the locking charm, Harry shook himself to get rid of those last predatory instincts. He’d already been gone for far too long and he didn’t want to worry his new friends. Which included Tom Riddle these day, and that was still such a foreign idea that it made Harry wonder if he wasn’t still actually trapped in a coma in St Mungo’s. But thinking of Tom did give Harry the perfect excuse for his tardiness. He quickly dug in his trunk and pulled out Mrs Ashford’s Compendium and held it against his chest, since he’d left his bag in the library. Then he hurried out of Ravenclaw Tower.

Just as Harry descended the last of the stone stairs and found himself on the first floor again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he knew someone who meant him harm was close by. Harry always had exceptional instincts like that, and thankfully they’d translated to his new body.

Harry wasn’t worried, though. All of his clothes were charmed with protective shields so no one could curse him in the back.

Not even Konrad Mulciber, who certainly tried from his position behind the door of an empty classroom. The red beam of light harmlessly bounced off Harry’s back, much to Mulciber’s obvious surprise.

With a silent apology to Mrs Ashford, Harry dropped the compendium to the stone floor with a heavy thud, whipped out his wand and stunned Mulciber before he could try cursing Harry again. Without pause, Harry slipped inside the empty classroom, stepping over the prone form of his nemesis as he closed the door and cast a whole collection of locking and silencing charms. Then he checked the room for any hidden individuals, because he wasn’t a fool. Magic made it possible for people to become invisible in a number of ways, and Harry didn’t want to receive a knife in the back while he was cursing Mulciber.

When Harry had designed his revenge for Konrad Mulciber, he’d come up with dozens of plans, one plan even more gruesome than the next. Harry knew curses so vile they’d make Voldemort cringe at the thought of them, he was sure.

But none of that would help Harriet Hubble. None of that would bring her justice.

The thing was that what Mulciber had done wasn’t a one-off incident. There was a systematic problem with sexual abuse against muggleborns at Hogwarts, and that problem had existed for decades already, if not longer.

One of the stories that went around Hogwarts was that of Ellen Mueller, a Gryffindor muggleborn who had committed suicide some ten years ago after she’d repeatedly been sexually assaulted by a pureblooded Gryffindor by the name of Gawain Macmillan. The Macmillans were a light family, very rich and very well connected in the Ministry, even producing a few Ministers for Magic over the last couple of centuries. They were decent people overall, but every family had its black sheep, and apparently Gawain Macmillan was the kind of asshole who didn’t take no for an answer and decided to just take by force what he thought he was owed by the muggleborn girl he desired.

After Ellen Mueller committed suicide, nothing happened. No one cared enough to see Gawain Macmillan brought to justice. The Hogwarts staff put it down to too much stress caused by her upcoming NEWTs, which had caused Ellen Mueller to snap and hang herself in a broom closet late at night.

Harry knew the story thanks to Harriet’s memories, and every time he thought about it his Auror instincts screamed at him that Ellen’s death may not have been suicide after all. Gawain might have decided to do away with her entirely, to hide his sexual crimes for good. Hell, she might have ended up pregnant or something, which would certainly give Gawain motive enough to see her dead to save his family’s name.

Whatever happened, the point was that the Hogwarts staff certainly hadn’t looked farther than they absolutely had to, and no one had bothered to even alert the Auror department about the whole ordeal. Ellen’s body had been shipped back to her muggle parents with a letter full of excuses while Gawain got away with everything and that was that.

The same would have happened in Harriet’s case. She’d committed suicide at home, and Harry doubted anyone would have connected it with a sexual assault committed by a schoolmate less than a week earlier.

People simply didn’t care enough about muggleborns to get to the bottom of such tragedies.

Well, Harry was going to change that as much as he possibly could. Which meant that he couldn’t just curse Konrad Mulciber to hell and back. Oh, Harry was going to curse him, no question there, but he was going to use a few very specific curses that would help him get Mulciber arrested and brought up on criminal charges.

Mulciber wasn’t just a teenage boy who’d made a ‘mistake’. Mulciber, even as young as he was right there and then, was a sexual predator and would remain that for the rest of his life. After the war, when Harry and his Auror colleagues were hunting down the remaining Death Eaters, Mulciber included, they’d come across Mulciber’s sordid history when they’d searched his mansion and questioned some of his servants. Mulciber had instructed his house-elves to never speak a word of what went on in his mansion, and those poor things weren’t able to share any information. But Mulciber also had some distant family who’d fallen onto hard times living in a small cottage on his property, to farm some of the land for him. And they’d been more than eager to share what they knew once they found themselves hauled into an official interrogation room.

As it turned out, ever since Mulciber graduated Hogwarts, he’d made it a habit to abduct a young teenage muggle girl, keep her in his dungeon for a couple of months while using her as a sex slave before she was used up and worn out, and he killed her and burned her body to get rid of the evidence. And then he’d abduct a new girl and start all over again. Because these were muggle girls, they were only ever reported missing in the muggle world, and thus no one in the wizarding world was aware anyone had gone missing and might have ended up in the cellar of a magical predator.

And Konrad Mulciber had done this for decades. As far as Harry knew he’d even gotten his son involved once he was old enough. When they’d torn apart Mulciber mansion they’d found more than one cell in the dungeons with the recently deceased remains of two young girls in them.

That is why Harry knew Konrad Mulciber was a monster and needed to be stopped no matter what. Because if he wasn’t stopped, over a hundred innocent muggle girls would die before anyone even realized what was going on.

And Harry knew exactly how he was going to punish this serial killer, because that was what Mulciber was. Harry had read enough muggle literature on the classifications of criminals to know that Mulciber was one of the most successful serial killers, muggle or wizard, to have ever lived if you went by body count.

Harry was going to use the magic he’d learned from another very successful serial killer he’d had the misfortune to meet in his line of work.

After Voldemort had been defeated the Aurors had their hands full identifying all the marked Death Eaters and everyone else who had sided with Voldemort but who had never received the Dark Mark.

Saphira Zabini was such an unmarked supporter of Voldemort. They found enough evidence to charge her with a few small crimes, so they brought her in for interrogation while they searched her mansion top to bottom.

It was Harry, still pretty much a rookie Auror at that point, who’d discovered a hidden room off Saphira Zabini’s bedroom, filled with illegal potions and books and dark artifacts. Amongst that stash Harry had found a little black book. Contrary to what one might expect, it wasn’t filled with the contact information of lots of rich wizards.

It was filled with all the magic Saphira Zabini had ever invented in her entire life.

As it turned out, Saphira Zabini was a very talented, very creative and very disturbed spell-creator. She’d invented so many different hexes and curses that she used to lure very rich men in, marry them and then dispose of them in ways that never directly implicated her or even suggested that foul play may have occurred.

Harry’s boss had ordered everyone to pick up a stack of all the books and paperwork they’d found in Saphira’s hidden room and read it thoroughly to look for any potential evidence, and that’s how Harry had ended up with that little black book in his possession. He’d taken his pile home with him to read it over the weekend, and while he’d been lazing on the couch he’d first opened that little black book. He hadn’t been able to put it down again for the rest of the weekend.

Not only had Saphira described all her hexes and curses in detail, she’d also added in depth notes on every single person she’d ever used any of those hexes or curses on. She went into full detail of the effects and how long the magic lasted or how soon the person ended up dead.

That little black book contained enough evidence to see Saphira Zabini receive an immediate death sentence once she was brought before the Wizengamot.

When Harry had shown the little book to Ron and Hermione a day later as they stopped by to visit, they’d paged through the book in absolute shock. Ron had shuddered repeatedly while his skin paled until he barely looked alive.

Hermione ended up with tears streaming down her face when she read about one particular curse. “I love magic,” she said as she wiped a hand across her wet cheeks. “But this scares me. That one vile woman can create such magic that robs you of yourself. Does it even have a counter-curse?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, chilled to the bone by everything he’d read in that little book. “She didn’t seem to create many counter curses for her work. She probably didn’t think she’d ever need them.”

When Harry presented the little black book to his boss the following Monday, it caused quite the stir and Harry was even allowed inside the interrogation room while more experienced Aurors grilled Saphira for hours and hours.

Saphira Zabini was without a doubt the most unflappable person Harry had ever met. She merely smiled and tilted her head as she listened to all the accusations, but she never said a single word. As their investigation deepened, they realized that Saphira had to be much older than she pretended to be, and that on top of hexes and curses, she’d also developed lots of magic to keep herself looking young and extraordinarily beautiful.

It was also revealed that Blaise Zabini was not her biological son, but instead a baby born to the wife of a rich man Saphira had targeted. She’d killed the wife, and eventually the rich husband, but kept the baby and raised him as her own son. Harry doubted Blaise knew any of this, and for a moment Harry felt sorry for him until he remembered Blaise had eagerly fought on Voldemort’s side during the battle of Hogwarts and then any sympathy quickly disappeared again.

As they were preparing to formally charge Saphira with many, many counts of murder, she disappeared from her ministry holding cell one night. The Aurors on guard duty were found dead, poisoned by something they drank during their shift. That was also the last time anyone saw Blaise Zabini in Britain, so it was assumed he was behind the jailbreak of his fake mother.

Even though Harry urged his bosses to publicize the truth about Blaise Zabini’s origins in the paper, it never turned the son against the mother. Harry understood why. Blaise loved his mother and would find anything the Aurors claimed suspicious at best. And Saphira would of course tell him none of it was true, and who was Blaise going to believe? The woman who raised him and always treated him with love, supposedly, or the Aurors who wanted to see both him and his mother thrown into Azkaban for life?

The last Harry knew of them was that they were living somewhere in South America while using false identities. Seeing Saphira go free had frustrated Harry beyond belief, but at least she was now a wanted woman in the whole world, because her arrest warrants had been shared globally.

And even though Harry had only had that little black book in his personal possession for one weekend, he’d memorized most of its contents. It had happened almost accidentally. Harry certainly hadn’t wanted to remember any of it, but the contents had been so shocking that the details were ingrained in his mind and he sincerely doubted he would ever forget them.

Harry released a deep sigh, moved his head from side to side to relax his tense neck and then he pointed his wand at the still prone Mulciber.

He was going to use three curses on him.

Harry started with a little something Saphira Zabini preferred to use on all her victims the moment she married them. It rendered them both infertile and impotent and it was irreversible. No matter what happened, Mulciber would never father children and he’d never be able to rape another woman ever again.

One of the reasons Saphira Zabini was so successful as a serial killer who used her victims as puppets in her own personal play, was because all the magic she used was of her own creation and had no known counters or cures. Most people didn’t even know they were cursed because they had no idea such curses even existed. And if they did consult a healer or curse-breaker, they weren’t able to immediately help either, because they also didn’t know what sort of magic was used specifically.

And now Konrad Mulciber would be having the same problem. Harry was cursing him to hell and back, and no one would know what those curses even did or how to counter them.

The second curse was something Saphira had created to use during her hunts, when she was still deciding on who to make her next victim. It forced the mark to speak the truth, nothing but the truth, but they were unaware they were doing so and that whatever they said might have consequences.

It was vital that Mulciber speak the truth once Harry got the Auror department involved, and this curse, which Saphira called the Cassandra Curse, would make sure Mulciber would confess to all his crimes without even realizing he was doing it. It was also one of the few curses Saphira had created that had a counter curse, but Harry obviously wasn’t going to share it with anyone. Without the counter curse, the effects could last well over a year. Plenty of time for Mulciber to get sentenced to prison.

The last curse Harry used was the one that had made Hermione cry in sheer horror. It would see the victim dead in three to five years while they slowly lost not only their minds, but also themselves in the process. Saphira called it the Dementia Curse, and she loved using it on her older husbands, because no one was ever surprised when a senior wizard developed dementia, and no one ever suspected foul play.

Harry was well aware that the chances that Konrad Mulciber would actually see Azkaban from the inside were very slim. The Mulcibers were rich and powerful and very well connected. The best Harry could hope for was that Mulciber got expelled from Hogwarts, probably. After which he’d just be home schooled and still get to keep his wand after he sat his OWLs at the Ministry.

And thus Harry had decided to make sure Mulciber would soon be unable to even think straight, and that he’d be gone forever in under five years.

And Harriet and the others at Hogwarts Mulciber had assaulted and raped, plus all the muggle girls from the future, would finally get justice.

Harry lowered his wand after he cast the final curse. He knew he’d just used some horrifying magic, and he hadn’t used it lightly. But a monster like Konrad Mulciber deserved nothing less.

The last thing Harry did was adjust Mulciber’s memory, so he didn’t remember going to confront Harriet Hubble that afternoon. Harry didn’t want to connect Harriet with Mulciber in a way that might suggest he was the one who’d cursed Mulciber, if it ever got out the boy was cursed in the first place. But Harry wasn’t nearly as impulsive anymore as he’d once been. Auror training had taught him to plan for the unexpected, which he always tried to do.

Mulciber was ready, which meant that Harry had to implement the next phase of his plan. But he could do that later that evening, or even after his roommates had gone to bed.

Harry cancelled the charms around the door and room, pulled the classroom door open and sprang to the side on sheer instinct when he saw a wand aimed at him.

Tom stood in front of the door, Mrs Ashford’s compendium clutched to his chest with one arm, wand in hand while he desperately tried to break the locking charms, his face pinched with worry and frustration.

“Harriet!” Tom instantly sagged in relief, shoulders drooping and mouth curling up in a smile. Then he noticed the prone form of Mulciber in the middle of the classroom and he aimed his wand while he glared at his friend.

Harry plucked Tom’s wand right out of his hand to stop him from cursing Mulciber. “Remember what I told you this summer?”

Tom looked between his wand in Harry’s hand and Harry’s frowning face with a shocked gasp before he seemed to register Harry’s question. He nodded. “Yes, I’ll stay out of your way.” Tom gave Mulciber a long, dark look. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not today,” Harry said with a wicked little smile. “Soon he’ll get what he deserves.”

“Good.” Tom relaxed his shoulders somewhat again and then seemed to remember that he was holding a book. “I found this on the floor outside the classroom. It was rather an obvious clue you’d been here.”

“You saved Mrs Ashford!” Harry beamed up at Tom, genuinely happy he hadn’t lost that book. He’d truly be very depressed if he had to go through life without the infinite wisdom of that amazing woman. It was then that Harry remembered he was still holding Tom’s wand. “I’ll trade you,” he said, holding out Tom’s wand. It was interesting that the wand did feel familiar in a way, yet it also didn’t feel quite right as if might once have done, when Harry was still Harry Potter.

It was a very strong piece of evidence that Harry truly wasn’t Harry Potter anymore, because the Cyprus and Phoenix feather wand that had chosen Harriet Hubble felt like the perfect wand for Harry nowadays.

“Gladly,” Tom said, and accepted his wand back while Harry eagerly clutched Mrs Ashford to his chest.

Harry closed the door of the classroom and fell into step beside Tom as they made their way back to the library. “He’ll wake up soon enough. He won’t remember a thing from this afternoon,” Harry whispered, so Tom knew not to interrogate his friend about what might have happened.

Tom gave a bit of a stiff nod while he remained quiet and soon they reached the library and stepped inside together.

This did not go unnoticed by anyone in the library and within seconds the whole place was buzzing with gossip about how Tom Riddle had run off with Harriet Hubble for at least half an hour and they’d obviously had done many very filthy things together in the nearest broom closet.

Harry sighed. Some of these students weren’t even trying to be quiet as they discussed Harry’s imaginary sex life. “This is all your fault,” Harry muttered while giving Tom an annoyed glance.

Tom’s response was to smirk, that ridiculous tosspot.

“Is everything okay?” Myrtle asked with worried look when Harry fell into the seat opposite her.

“Everything’s fine. I just needed to run up to the tower to retrieve the second coming of Merlin.” Harry placed Mrs Ashford’s compendium on the table with a thump and then chuckled when everyone looked at that book in quiet disbelief.

“I’ve been hearing nothing but high praise about Mrs Ashford all summer,” Tom said, just to add more fuel to the gossip fire, apparently. Annabel and Lukas exchanged a knowing glance before they went back to looking between Tom and Harry in obvious speculation.

“She’ll have the answer to my needs, I’m sure of it.” Harry flipped the compendium open and went in search of a spell that would solve his chafing tights once and for all.

And because Mrs Ashford was the most amazing witch that ever lived, Harry did find such a charm and he couldn’t wait to try it out later in their dormitory. The library wasn’t exactly the place to start casting magic at your own crotch. Even Harry knew that much.

Their little group of students chatted about their classes and the ancestor potion and the upcoming OWLs for another hour or so until it was time to pack up and go to the Great Hall for dinner. They made plans to meet up in the library again to do homework together, and Harry was very happy he’d been able to start a few new friendships so soon into the schoolyear.

Mulciber appeared at dinner as if nothing had happened, and Harry kept a careful eye on him without drawing attention to himself all throughout the meal. The Cassandra Curse seemed to be working fine because more than once Harry noticed Black or Malfoy admonish Mulciber for something he’d said, though Harry couldn’t hear what was being said exactly. Tom also kept a close eye on Mulciber, studying him as though he was an interesting new lifeform he’d never encountered before.

Once they got back to Ravenclaw tower, Harry excused himself to Myrtle, saying he was very tired and wanted to get early night’s sleep. Harry was tired from the first full day of classes, that was no lie, but Harry wanted a little time to himself to implement the next phase of his plan. Over the summer, Harry had written numerous letters, all detailing Mulciber’s crimes, including his sexual assault of Harriet Hubble.

Harry did not look forward to having to talk about Mulciber raping Harriet to some Aurors, but he would, because he owed it to Harriet.

And examining Harriet’s memories of her classmates, Harry was certain Mulciber had assaulted at least two other muggleborn students already. A Hufflepuff a year older than them named Matilda Bonner and a Gryffindor a year younger who was called Cathy Jones. There might be more, but the Aurors would discover that soon enough once they talked to Mulciber thanks to the Cassandra Curse.

Harry got the pile of letters from his trunk and tucked them in his bag, and then he cast the strongest disillusionment charm he could and made his way out of the tower again without revealing his presence to anyone. The trek to the owlery was quiet, since it was past curfew already. Once there, Harry recruited as many school owls as he needed and tied the letters to their feet while telling them where to go.

The Auror Department. The Head of Magical Law Enforcement. The Minister for Magic. The Daily Prophet. The Headmaster of Hogwarts. The Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. And all the Heads of Houses.

Harry figured that at least a few of them would take his accusations seriously enough to come have a chat with dear Konrad, and that was all they needed to do to hear the truth for themselves.

Harry had used all he’d learned in the Auror department to make sure the letters were completely untraceable to him. He sent the owls on their way and watched quietly as the many birds took to the sky and disappeared in the dark horizon.

Now all Harry had to do was wait and see who would take the bait first.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

On Tuesday morning Harry woke up with a belly full of dread and anticipation. As he lay in his bed, staring up at the blue curtains overhead, he wondered what would happen that day. If anything would happen at all.

Worst case scenario, no one showed up and every single person of authority in the wizarding world decided to ignore charges of sexual assault at their prized boarding school. Harry frowned while imagining this happening. Mulciber would still be punished, of course. His days were numbered and until his horrifying death he would be unable to get it up again and thus have a much harder time getting his rocks off with unwilling girls.

Best case scenario, everyone showed up, took statements and immediately arrested Mulciber and he’d be convicted to life in Azkaban before the week was over. Harry snorted in faint amusement. Yeah, that was a whole pile of wishful thinking, Harry knew that all too well. He’d seen how unfair the justice system was up close more than once during his previous life.

What probably would happen was that a single Auror, someone close to retirement perhaps, would show up, thinking he was there to expose some distasteful prank someone tried to pull by making false accusations against a fellow student. Thanks to the Cassandra Curse, however, Mulciber would sing as if his life depended on it and the Auror would have a full confession in his hands before the day was over. Thanks to the political power of the Mulciber family, they’d probably be able to keep dear Konrad out of Azkaban but he’d most certainly be expelled from Hogwarts. From there on he’d be stuck at home because most of polite society would shun him, not wanting to associate publicly with someone of such ill repute. And then he’d lose his mind and die a slow death.

Harry sighed and pushed the covers back. It was truly the best he could hope for, and he was satisfied with that result. He really was. And yet it did feel as though it wasn’t public and brutal enough. Some part of Harry wanted Mulciber to pay in the most humiliating and public way one could think of. But Harry had worked for the Ministry and he knew what one realistically could expect of their kind of justice, so he resigned himself to a more subdued outcome.

Myrtle gave Harry a few very curious looks as they left Ravenclaw Tower and made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“How long?” Myrtle whispered, after she’d seemingly gathered enough courage to voice whatever was on her mind.

“What?” Harry asked, adjusting the strap of his bookbag over his shoulder. Harry was very pleased to note that Mrs Ashford’s charm had worked miracles and his tights felt like second skin instead of a chafing torture device.

“How long have you and Tom Riddle been…you know,” Myrtle whispered, cheeks flushing a blotchy shade of red.

Harry stopped walking halfway through the Entrance Hall and stared at his new friend while his mouth sank open. “I am absolutely not… you know… with Tom Riddle,” Harry replied in a harsh whisper, horrified when his own cheeks flushed at the very thought of him and Riddle together. Yes, Tom was handsome and clever and charming and all that rot, but Harry was not going to hook up with his former enemy. That way lay absolute madness.

“But…but you’re suddenly very friendly with him,” Myrtle said, sounding genuinely flummoxed as she stared at Harry with wide eyes, her thick glasses unable to hide her surprise. “And you disappeared together yesterday.”

Harry sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “I met him by chance during the summer while he was working in a second-hand bookstore. And we’ll have to spend plenty of time together this year because we’re working on that Runes project together.”

“Ah.” Myrtle wrinkled her forehead in thought and then gave a tentative nod. “So he’s still single?” This was said with a surprisingly hopeful note in her voice.

“Myrtle, he’s your cousin,” Harry replied in a disbelieving tone.

“Very distantly,” Myrtle said quickly and she hurried to catch up with Harry as he marched inside the Great Hall, done with the subject of Tom fucking Riddle.

There was no news about the sexual assault accusations in the Daily Prophet, but that made sense since Harry hadn’t sent off his letters until late the previous night. During the summer Harry had gotten himself a subscription to the Daily Prophet and he was grateful for that now since he could bury his face in the paper and ignore Myrtle and her ridiculous ideas. Not to mention Tom himself, who was giving her several weird looks from the Slytherin table, Harry saw from the corner of his eyes.

Ruby Baird had written another article about the ancestor potion, including a short interview with Fleamont about how popular the potion proved to be. She also talked to a handful of muggleborns about their results and the whole article read much like a fluff piece about long lost family and the need for muggleborns to fit into the magical world and how having familial bonds helped to accomplish that.

A few pages further Harry came across an anonymous opinion piece written by ‘The Defender of True Wizards’ about the kind of damage these arrogant muggleborns were doing to their world by claiming they were related to some of the most ancient pureblood families. Harry rolled his eyes numerous times as he read through the article. Of course there would be opposition from the pureblood extremists. It was to be expected. Harry hoped that the popularity of the potion, which Fleamont was ready to start selling in mainland Europe as well, would soon drown out most of those discriminatory voices, but he was also realistic enough to realize the purebloods were probably not going to take these new developments lying down.

Well, nothing that Harry could do about it now.

They had double Herbology with the Gryffindors, and Harry teamed up with Myrtle, Annabel and Lukas to plant the bulbs of Hammering Hyacinths in many colourful pots. Their flowers, once they bloomed, contained small but rock hard cores they could use to defend themselves. Those cores were prized in potions so they had plenty of bulbs to get ready for blooming next spring.

Their professor, a tiny witch named Paula Fields who made Harry seem tall, walked around the classroom and offered everyone words of encouragement and gentle critique. After they left the greenhouse, Harry spotted a lone figure entering the castle. He only saw a glimpse of them from a fair distance away but Harry was sure they’d been wearing red Auror robes under their black cloak.

The Auror was here.

Good. Very good.

Harry chatted with Myrtle about the upcoming OWLs and tried to act as naturally as possible while they sat down for lunch. The only thing of note was that Mulciber, Slughorn and Dumbledore were all missing during lunch. Also, Tom kept shooting him those weird looks again. Harry had no idea what the man wanted with him, but since they had double Arithmancy after lunch Harry was sure Tom would say whatever he needed to say as soon as he could.

Harry was right. Again, Tom slid into the empty seat beside Harry at once, but this time he cast a few privacy charms around their desks while everyone was still finding their seats.

“Which curse did you use on Konrad?” Tom all but demanded while he stared at Harry with narrowed eyes.

“That’s classified,” Harry said in his sternest voice, though he couldn’t hold back a small, amused smile as he busied himself with getting his book out of his bag.

Tom snorted and leaned even closer, his arm brushing against Harry’s while his face was inches away. Harry imagined all the gossip that act alone would provoke. Male students usually didn’t get up in the personal spaces of female students like that, at least not after a certain age.

“Konrad kept confessing to everything and anything all night long, yet he had no idea he was doing so. I’m not familiar with any spell or potion with such a strong effect. So, what sort of magic did you use?” Tom asked again, even more urgently this time, almost tripping over his words.

Harry finally glanced at him, face a stony mask. “Remember I told you my aunt is an Unspeakable?”

“Ah.” Tom sat back a little and gave Harry a knowing look. “So that is the kind of magic they study there?”

Harry gave a careless shrug in response. Let Tom draw his own conclusions. When telling lies, Harry had learned over the years, it was best to say as little as possible while the other party filled in the blanks by themselves so whatever story they were hearing made sense in their own minds.

Their professor, Rosemary Driscoll, who was also Harry’s Head of House, entered the classroom and everyone settled down. Tom cancelled the privacy charms with a discreet wave of his wand. Harry noted that he didn’t utter a sound. It seemed that Tom had also already mastered the art of casting non-verbal magic, not that this surprised Harry.

Driscoll lectured them for a good half hour on everything they could expect for their upcoming OWLs and just as she told everyone to open their books to chapter one, the classroom door opened and the headmaster walked in.

Armando Dippet was an old man, slightly stooped, but his eyes were bright and still full of life. His usually smiling face was a mask of worry and regret, however.

“Would Harriet Hubble and Myrtle Warren please come with me? Pack your bags, girls, I doubt you’ll make it back to class this afternoon.”

Immediate whispers broke out all around them as Harry quickly put his book in his bag while avoiding Tom’s inquisitive gaze. He’d expected a summons for himself, but he was genuinely surprised that Myrtle had been summoned as well. Had Mulciber assaulted Myrtle? Harry hadn’t noticed anything about Myrtle’s behaviour that suggested such a thing. Myrtle had indicated she knew Mulciber was bad news, but that was about it.

While they followed Dippet through the empty hallways, Harry was tempted to ask Myrtle but he couldn’t give away that he knew what this summoning was even about. Dippet refused to answer any of their questions and simply told them to follow him as he led them to the first floor. He dropped Harry off at one door and then gestured Myrtle towards another one.

Harry entered the classroom and the first thing he saw was Charlus Potter in his red Auror robes, standing against the wall behind the teacher’s desk, his face carefully blank. At the teacher’s desk sat a female Auror, around Charlus’ age, who gave Harry an encouraging smile.

“Miss Hubble, please take a seat,” the female Auror said, waiving to one of the student desks. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, looking pointedly at Charlus Potter, but he ignored her question while his face gave nothing away. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, not at all. My name is Auror Beth Cox, and I’d like to ask you a few questions about Konrad Mulciber.”

Harry didn’t have to fake the dread that ran through his entire body. He felt the blood drain from his face as he sat down and stared at the desk, avoiding looking at the two Aurors. “I’ll tell you, but only you, Auror Cox.”

Auror Cox turned around and shared a few significant looks with Charlus Potter, who finally sighed and left the room, closing the door behind himself quietly. Harry did feel better talking to a female Auror he didn’t personally know instead of a man who was for all intents and purposes distant family.

While offering Harry a sympathetic smile, Auror Cox tapped on a nearby quill to activate it so it would write down every word that was said from then on. “This is Auror Beth Cox interviewing Harriet Hubble, fifth-year Hogwarts student, in the case of Konrad Mulciber. Today is Wednesday, September 3rd, 1942 at 2 in the afternoon and we’re at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Harry was familiar with interview protocols, so he sat back in his chair and waited patiently until Auror Cox had everything ready, though he couldn’t help tapping his fingers against the desk in a nervous gesture. He knew this had to be done, no matter how distasteful Harry found the idea of having to recount the rape of Harriet Hubble in detail.

“Harriet,” Auror Cox said with an encouraging smile. “Has Konrad Mulciber ever hurt you?”

Harry nodded, eyes still fixed on the grainy surface of the desk. “Yes,” he whispered and over the next hour, Auror Cox coaxed him to tell the whole story about how Mulciber hurt her exactly. Much to Harry’s surprise, he couldn’t hold back the tears while he was recounting how Mulciber had threatened Harriet’s muggle family to keep her quiet. This hadn’t happened to Harry himself, not really, but he had Harriet’s memories, and he couldn’t stop feeling her fear and pain while he recounted the events.

“Thank you,” Auror Cox whispered while Harry was done with the worst of the story. “You’re very brave to tell me all this.”

Harry nodded in thanks, running a hand across his face to make sure any traces of his previous tears were gone. It was absurd, really, that recounting the horrible things that had happened to someone else had made him so unexpectedly emotional. Harry was a battle hardened Auror, for Merlin’s sake. He’d seen much worse over the years. And yet speaking up for the crimes that had been committed against Harriet Hubble proved too much for him from an emotional standpoint. Harry mused that it probably had something to do with the injustice of it all. Harriet Hubble was dead, gone from this world by her own hand, because a scumbag like Mulciber hurt her more than she could bear. No matter that Harry was seeing to it that Mulciber would pay for his crimes. No amount of criminal justice would bring her back and that rankled Harry and his heightened sense of fairness and his craving for justice.

“Why didn’t you talk to someone about this after it happened?” Auror Cox asked, not unkindly.

Harry gave her an incredulous look and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “What’s the protocol when it comes to interview minors, Auror Cox?”

Auror Cox blinked in surprise, apparently not having expected Harry to start questioning her. “Well, usually we ensure the parents of the minor child are present – “

Harry waved a hand around the room as if to ask where his parents were.

Auror Cox gave a nod of understanding. “The exception to that is muggleborns, since it is generally assumed their muggle parents are not familiar enough with the wizarding world to properly represent their children.”

Harry’s smile was sharp and cutting as he stared at Auror Cox. “Exactly. Magical law enforcement uses two different standards, one for purebloods and one for muggleborns. Now why should any muggleborn student expect magical justice to be any different?”

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Auror Cox offered Harry a nod of understanding. “I realize that it can be more challenging to seek assistance for a muggleborn student.”

There was a knock on the door before Harry could react, and Auror Cox called out for their visitor to enter. Charlus Potter opened the door and stepped through it with Dippet and Dumbledore on his heels.

Ugh. Harry really didn’t want to deal with Dumbledore right at that moment. That man had done more than enough to ruin Harry’s life the first time around.

“We’re finished with the interview. Miss Hubble confirmed the accusations levelled against Konrad Mulciber,” Auror Cox informed Charlus Potter.

Charlus briefly closed his eyes before he gave Harry a look full of regret and a lingering sense of fury. Harry imagined the man would like nothing more than to spend about ten minutes alone with Mulciber right about now, to avenge his own bloodline that had been harmed.

“Are you certain?” Dumbledore asked, much to everyone’s obvious surprise. Dumbledore stepped up to Harry and stared down at him over his glasses. “Are you sure it was Konrad Mulciber and not Tom Riddle?”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Charlus admonished with a snarl. “Miss Hubble has given her testimony. This is not the moment to question it.”

“I am not questioning her, I assure you,” Dumbledore said when he was, in fact, doing that very thing. “I am merely aware that most things that happen in Slytherin house, happen because Tom Riddle wants it to.”

“Tom had nothing to do with this,” Harry said through gritted teeth, anger coiling hotly in his belly. “He’s my friend and he’s never hurt me.” That was stretching the truth a little for sure, considering their past, but Harry was genuinely taken aback by Dumbledore’s insistence on seeing only bad things when it came to Tom.

Yes, once upon a time Tom had made some terrible decisions and that had resulted in many lives lost over the decades to come. But nowadays it was obvious for anyone to see that Tom was making better choices, was steering his life in an entirely new direction.

And yet Dumbledore insisted it had to be Tom Riddle who had done these unspeakable things, instead of the monster who was actually responsible for these crimes.

“Are we done here?” Harry asked, shoving his chair back before Dumbledore could make more baseless accusations.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Hubble,” Auror Cox said, and without looking at anyone Harry hurried out of the room.

He was surprised to see Myrtle standing near another Auror in the hallway. Myrtle was drying her eyes with a handkerchief while the Auror, an older woman with short, grey hair, had a comforting hand placed on Myrtle’s shoulder.

“Harriet,” Myrtle said with a small hiccup, her eyes bloodshot behind her glasses.

“Myrtle,” Harry said, still incredibly curious how Myrtle was involved in all this. “I hadn’t realized Mulciber had hurt you, too.” Harry was nothing if not a Gryffindor. He would forever barge ahead if he wanted something, like answers to his questions, no matter how delicate the situation was.

Myrtle hiccupped again. “Right before the holidays, he pushed me against a wall, shoved his hand between my legs and felt me up and promised he’d do worse this schoolyear.”

At once Harry saw what had happened once upon a life. Why Myrtle had ended up spending so much time in the toilet crying in her fifth year, to the point that she’d been there when Tom had released the basilisk and she’d ended up killed by it.

Mulciber had made Myrtle one of his victims during fifth year. He’d raped her, perhaps even repeatedly, and Myrtle had been alone and friendless, bullied by her roommates, and she’d perhaps thought Mulciber wouldn’t follow her if she spent all of her time hiding in the girls’ loo.

Harry briefly closed his eyes as he suddenly was filled with sympathy for the wailing ghost he’d known in his previous life, not to mention a deep sense of shame as he remembered how he and Ron had made fun of her so often, coming up with ridiculous reasons why she loved crying so much.

Now Harry knew, and he was once again filled with a certain sense of satisfaction that he’d been able to change something about the future that would make Myrtle’s life better.

“I’m glad he didn’t get to you yet,” Harry whispered while Myrtle stared at him with wide eyes.

“Did he…” Myrtle seemed unsure how to continue and she twisted the damp handkerchief between her fingers as she looked at Harry, her eyes filling with tears again.

Harry gave a single, sharp nod. “Once. Before the holidays.”

“I’m so sorry,” Myrtle wailed and instantly threw herself into Harry’s arms.

Harry held her awkwardly, patting her on the back a few times while Myrtle cried into his shoulder. “There, there, it’s fine. I mean, of course it’s not fine, but I’m fine now. I’ll be fine, at any rate. Mulciber will be punished for this, I promise.”

Myrtle needed a few long minutes to collect herself, but Harry didn’t mind because his thoughts kept going back to that crying ghost he’d once known and who’d been failed by Hogwarts just like so many other students. Riddle may have killed her, but no one of the staff had wondered why a girl had spent all her time in a bathroom, hiding and crying, during an entire schoolyear.

“Come on, let’s go to the Great Hall. I’m sure classes are finished anyway,” Harry murmured when Myrtle finally pulled back.

Unfortunately they didn’t make it very far before Dumbledore, Dippet and Charlus caught up with them. Harry increased his speed at once, trying to make a quick escape while Myrtle hurried at his side to keep up with him. But Dumbledore seemed determined to talk to him again and also kept up, their shoes all clacking against the stone floors at an increasing pace.

“Miss Hubble,” Dumbledore said, and when Harry studiously ignored him, he called again, “Miss Hubble, a moment of your time, if you please.”

They reached the Entrance Hall, where several students were lingering while others hurried inside the Great Hall for a hot cup of tea and some biscuits after classes had finished. Harry finally stopped walking and whipped around, glaring up at Dumbledore.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry said in his frostiest tone.

Dumbledore politely ignored Harry’s obvious hostility. “I merely wanted to express how sorry I am for your troubles, Miss Hubble,” Dumbledore said, his expression suitably saddened. “I wish you’d come to me or one of my colleagues before any Aurors had to get involved.”

Harry stared at his old mentor in complete disbelief, the hot anger that had been coiling in his abdomen finally spilling over. “Don’t pretend you care,” Harry snarled with much more force than was necessary.

“Pardon me?” Dumbledore looked at Harry with wide eyes full of genuine shock, as though this was the first time a student had ever addressed him in such an accusatory tone of voice. Who knew? It might very well be the case.

“Don’t pretend you care about any of us muggleborn students,” Harry continued, on a roll now that he was voicing so many of the grievances he’d developed when it came to his beloved Hogwarts. “We all know what happened to Ellen Mueller!”

Harry’s voice rang around the Entrance Hall in the dead silence that had fallen around them. Students stopped walking and stared at the display before them, faces pale with shock at hearing that name spoken out loud. Everyone knew what had happened to Ellen Mueller, but no one ever spoke about her in public.

Well, Harry figured, it was about time someone did.

“Miss Hubble, what happened to Miss Mueller was a tragedy, but I do not see what it has to do with your situation,” Dumbledore said, glancing around the hall, taking in all the students who were watching them openly.

Harry spotted Tom walking up, since he was difficult to miss thanks to his height. Tom gave her a questioning look, but Harry ignored him. “I assure you, Ellen Mueller has more in common with me than you might believe. Gawain Macmillan repeatedly raped her and no one here cared a damn about her. No one on the staff was willing to do a single thing to save her, so the only way out she could see was to hang herself in a broom closet. That is, if Gawain wasn’t the one to hang her in the first place.”

Dead silence. Dumbledore’s face had turned ashen while he stared at Harry, his mouth opened.

Harry glared at Dumbledore, eyes full of righteous fury. “And you couldn’t even be bothered to involve the authorities because Ellen was just another muggleborn. Instead, you covered it all up!”

At once every person there started whispering and talking and shouting and Ellen Mueller’s name was on everyone’s lips and tongues and Harry felt a warm rush of satisfaction that people were finally acknowledging her horrible fate out in the open.

“Excuse me,” Charlus Potter said, as he stepped up to Harry and Dumbledore, a dark frown on his face. “Is any of this true, Harriet?” He turned to Dumbledore. “Professor, did you seriously cover up a crime here at Hogwarts?”

Oh crap. Harry swallowed against a sudden bout of nerves. He’d completely forgotten that his Auror relative was listening to his speech as well.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want Ellen Mueller’s case brought out into the open and catch the attention of the Auror department. He wanted that to happen. Of course he did. But he hadn’t meant to plant himself right at the centre of it.

Harry released a quiet sigh while Dumbledore sputtered in complete disbelief at Charlus’ accusation. Harry really, truly had meant to keep a low profile this schoolyear. Hell, this entire life, even. But apparently he was simply incapable of doing so and now he had to live with the consequences of his chronic impulsiveness.

“Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said, chin up and eyes narrowed as he glared at Charlus. “I assure you that we took the utmost care to determine Miss Mueller’s cause of death, but we ultimately decided it wasn’t necessary to involve the authorities since it was an open and shut case of suicide.”

Charlus gritted his teeth, took a step back and gestured towards the nearby hallway. “With me, all of you.”

“Charlus, be reasonable,” Dumbledore said, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.

“This is now an official investigation and if you refuse to participate, Professor Dumbledore, I will arrest you for obstruction of justice. That’s a promise.” Charlus marched out of the Entrance Hall and what do you know, Dumbledore must have believed that threat because he followed quietly, head still held high and purple robes swishing around his legs.

For his part, Harry also followed without comment, though he did marvel at having just witnessed exactly where his own temper came from. It was obvious that the Potter family had a bit of a genetic predisposition for furious outbursts, especially when justice was on the line.

“Inside,” Charlus said, opening the first classroom door he could find. Inside were two older Hufflepuff students busy exploring each other’s tonsils up close and personal. They sprang apart, took one look at Charlus’ thundercloud expression and all but fled the classroom while everyone else stepped inside.

“Now, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Dippet, I expect a full report of Ellen Mueller’s death and your handling of the situation on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. I will then personally interview every single person who was involved in this case, starting with Gawain Macmillan.”

Dumbledore looked more and more constipated as he listened to Charlus’ demands and promises. “Charlus, I assure you that Gawain is a fine young man. Very spirited, very good at Quidditch. He flew for the Falmouth Falcons for three seasons before starting at the Department for Magical Games and Sports.”

“He’s a rapist!”

For once it wasn’t Harry who all but yelled that. Harry glanced to his side, surprised to see Myrtle standing there with a frozen expression on her face as though she’d just accidentally tickled a sleeping dragon and now realized what a tremendously stupid idea that had been.

“Miss Warren, these baseless accusations have to stop,” Dumbledore said with a stern glare aimed directly at Myrtle, who gulped audibly and took a step back. “If Miss Mueller had been hurt I’m sure she would have come to me, since I was her Head of House.”

Harry snorted in the most unfeminine way possible. “Like hell she would have. Not with the way you talk about her rapist. Because that’s exactly what you would have told her had she come to you. That Gawain is just a spirited young man and he probably didn’t mean to do it and perhaps she should just find it in her heart to forgive him, or better yet, maybe in the future just give into his demands because boys will be boys after all.”

By the time Harry was done with his little tirade, Dumbledore’s face had gone ashen again while Dippet had his balding head bowed and looked about 20 years older, if that was even possible. Charlus, on the other hand, gave Harry an approving nod while Myrtle had grabbed hold of Harry’s arm and hung on for dear life.

“Hogwarts has a structural problem with all sorts of forms of assault, especially of muggleborns. Sexual assault as well as violent bullying and nothing is done about it, so muggleborns don’t even bother to report it because no one will do anything about it anyway,” Harry said, calmly now, when it became clear no one else was going to say anything. “Muggleborn students are treated very differently than the purebloods. Half-bloods sit somewhere in the middle, depending if they have a magical parent or not. No, don’t deny it,” Harry said when Dumbledore looked ready to interrupt him. “Just now during my interview no one even offered to contact my family for me, even though I’m a 15-year-old girl and I should have had an adult family member there while I was questioned.”

Charlus cleared his throat and suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. “I had requested to be there for your interview, Harriet, seeing as we are related.”

Harry gave him a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Charlus, but I barely know you. We’ve met two times over the summer. I much rather would have had my mother or older sister there. And if I were a half-blood or pureblood, they would have been there.”

Dumbledore seemed at a loss for words, so Harry kept talking, glad he had the opportunity to voice some of his grievances. “Headmaster Dippet,” Harry said, and the old man finally raised his head and gave Harry an uncertain look. “What students need is a person they can trust. Someone who will listen to them without judgement, and who won’t treat them differently based on their blood or their wealth or their cultural background. Someone who regularly talks to the students, to build a relationship with them so that if something does happen they’ll feel confident to share it with that person.” Harry briefly glanced at Dumbledore and then gave Dippet a pointed look. “And for Merlin’s sake, this person has to be a woman.”

“I will take this under advisement and create such a position, Miss Hubble, I promise you that,” Dippet said with a solemn nod. “I’m sure you will also be relieved to learn that you no longer have to worry about running into your assailant, since I am expelling Konrad Mulciber.”

For one brief moment it looked like Dumbledore actually wanted to say something about it, but thought the better of it and merely nodded instead.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry said sincerely while Myrtle squeezed his arm even tighter. “That is a great relief indeed.”

They ended their impromptu meeting at this point and Harry nodded at Charlus while Myrtle all but dragged him out of the classroom in a mild panic.

“I can’t believe you said all those things to Dumbledore and Dippet!” Myrtle said in an urgent whisper as they hurried towards the Great Hall.

“They needed to be said,” Harry said by way of explanation. To be honest, he couldn’t quite believe it himself, either, since he hadn’t meant to step up on a soapbox and suddenly become the advocate for all sexual assault victims at Hogwarts. But it had needed to be said, and when no one else did, Harry figured he might as well do it.

Damn his Gryffindor impulsiveness and thirst for justice.

When they reached the Entrance Hall, Harry saw Tom standing against a wall in a relaxed pose. He held a thermos in his arm, and a small bundle folded inside a cloth napkin. The second he spotted Harry he pushed away from the wall and approached them. Myrtle released Harry’s arm as if it had suddenly burned her and took a few steps away from him.

“Harriet,” Tom said with a small, neutral smile. “I wonder if you’d join me for a walk around the grounds. It’s still well over an hour until dinner, after all.”

Harry briefly glanced at Myrtle, since he didn’t want to abandon her after the emotional afternoon they’d both had, but Myrtle made shooing motions to urge Harry to go. “I’ll just go to the library and find something good to read,” Myrtle assured her. “That always calms me down.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Harry said with a small wave and then let Tom lead him out of the castle. The weather was still mild, though it had rained earlier that day and everything was wet and glistening.

Neither one of them spoke as they strolled across the wide lawn in the direction of the lake, though Tom did shoot Harry various curious looks every now and then. But Harry wasn’t going to give anything away so easily. If Tom had questions, he could simply ask them. They made it to a formation of rocks beside the lake near the forest, which were often used as a place to hang out by the students. Tom conjured a blanket with a swish of his wand, and then two porcelain cups. He unscrewed the thermos and poured two cups of steaming tea. The bundle turned out to be a pile of digestive biscuits. While Harry sat down on the blanket, Tom handed him a cup and a biscuit.

So now Harry was having an impromptu picnic with Tom Riddle. While he nibbled his biscuit Harry briefly questioned his entire life that had led up until this point because what the hell even?

Tom sat down across from Harry, legs stretched out to the side, while he sipped his own cup of tea. “I hadn’t expected you to involve the Aurors.”

“Hm.” Harry stared at Tom for a few long moments. “What had you expected then? That I torture Mulciber to death?”

Tom got a funny sort of look on his face, as though he had perhaps thought that but would never publicly admit it. Then he sighed and his expression turned almost sympathetic, which was something Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen on Tom’s face before. “You have to understand, Harriet, that the Aurors can only do so much. The Mulciber family is very rich and powerful and it’s entirely possible Mulciber will escape punishment altogether.”

“He’s already been expelled,” Harry was quick to point out. “Dippet told me that personally.”

“Ah.” Tom took his time studying Harry’s blank expression, as though looking for any cracks in his mask. “And you’re satisfied with just expulsion? Because I sincerely doubt Konrad will ever see the inside of Azkaban.”

“Of course not,” Harry said, and ate the last of his biscuit, taking the time to chew and swallow while Tom waited for him to elaborate. “But I assure you, Mulciber will face more punishment than that. Far more punishment.”

Tom’s whole face lit up, his lips pulling back in a sharp grin. He leaned closer to Harry across the blanket. “What did you do?”

Harry shrugged and sipped his cup of tea.

“Harriet,” Tom said, with a bit of a whine in his voice. “Harriet, what magic did you use on him?”

“Tom,” Harry said with a grin that was full of amusement at Tom’s obvious impatience. “You’re a Slytherin. Do you honestly expect me to just confess any crimes I may or may not have committed to you?”

“Well.” Tom sat back again with a chuckle. “I had hoped a Ravenclaw wouldn’t be quite so secretive.”

“Try a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff next time,” Harry said with a knowing smile. Then he sobered and looked Tom right in his brown eyes. “Just remember that revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“You have done something,” Tom concluded with a burst of laughter. “You got some terrible curse from your aunt the Unspeakable and you cursed Konrad, didn’t you?”

“I can neither confirm or deny anything,” Harry said in a sing-song voice and then he reached for another biscuit. “Mind if I help myself? I am feeling rather peckish.”

Tom snorted and snatched up another biscuit for himself as well, though his eyes never left Harry’s face. “You impress me, Harriet Hubble,” Tom said, biscuit hovering in front of his mouth. “And I don’t impress easily.”

“Oh,” Harry said after he finished his treat. “Just so you know, Dumbledore was quite eager to somehow pin Mulciber’s crimes on you somehow. I told him in no uncertain terms you had nothing to do with it.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “That man is determined to accuse me of every little thing that happens at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, he’s a prejudiced bastard,” Harry agreed easily enough. Once upon a time he’d looked up to Dumbledore, but those days were long since gone. “But Charlus is now investigating Ellen Mueller’s case, and he might be able to knock Dumbledore down a few pegs.”

“One can hope,” Tom said in a frosty voice. He kept staring at Harry, though his expression, which had been quite open before, slowly closed off. “I did know. I never actually did any of the things Mulciber was involved in, but I did know what Mulciber was up to. He was always very eager to share the details, long before you ever used that special truth magic on him.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. He’d suspected this, of course, and he honestly wasn’t sure what to think of it. “I don’t blame you for this,” Harry eventually decided to say. “I know you were treated badly in Slytherin at first, so I understand why you wouldn’t want to risk your own safety by ratting out a pureblood roommate.”

“And I didn’t care what happened to you and the other muggleborns,” Tom said in complete honesty. Harry appreciated that, even though it was a very harsh truth to hear. “But then I got to know you.” Tom closed his mouth for a moment, seemingly unsure what else to say, while his brows curved up in a rather confused frown.

“It’s a lot harder to ignore the pain and suffering of others once you care for them,” Harry concluded for him, and Tom gave a single nod, though he still looked rather confused, which was strangely adorable. Oh come on, now was not the time to have those kind of ridiculous thoughts. Harry blamed Harriet’s adolescent, hormonal body, somehow.

“I don’t understand why Mulciber needed so much sex,” Tom said, still in obvious confusion. “Why didn’t he simply curse you if he wanted to hurt you? It’s so much easier than do what he ended up doing.”

Harry had to briefly bite his lip so he wouldn’t burst out in laughter. The subject matter was far too serious for that. “Wait, you truly think Mulciber was just some horny bastard who did what he did so he could get off?”

“Well, why else would he do it?” Tom asked, head tilted as he stared at Harry as though he doubted his sanity.

“Tom, rape isn’t about sex,” Harry said, sitting up a bit as he slipped into lecture mode without even realizing it. “Rape is about power. Rape is the tool a rapist uses to gain power over his victim, and to hurt them.”

Tom’s brows were doing that confused curve again. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Harry said with conviction. He’d always paid full attention during their criminal profiling lessons at Auror training and he knew exactly what made the average rapist tick. “Mulciber did it to feel superior over muggleborns, to show us our place if you will. It had nothing to do with actual sex.”

“Huh.” Tom shifted his body and ran his fingers across his mouth while he looked at nothing at all. “That explains why he didn’t simply go to Knockturn Alley and pay for it. He certainly had enough money to do so.”

Harry couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter at Tom’s pragmatic solution to a teenager’s horniness.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and then he gave Harry a surprisingly sad smile. “I am sorry this happened to you.”

“Thanks,” Harry said and ducked his head, unsure what to do with such a sympathetic Tom Riddle. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will be,” Tom agreed with a quiet chuckle. “You certainly showed far more teeth and claws than Konrad was expecting.”

Harry felt a coil of grief at poor Harriet’s true fate, which kept him from making any public claims about standing up for himself and seeking justice because it was the right thing to do and other such drivel. Truth was, Mulciber’s actions had killed Harriet, plain and simple. Mulciber had hurt her so much that she saw no other way out. And just because Harry, who was an adult Auror, did have the strength to stand up for himself didn’t mean that Harriet’s suffering wasn’t real or that Harriet had been weak because of the choices she had made.

The world, but especially Hogwarts, had failed Harriet. And all Harry could do now was trying to fix that problem once and for all.

If Tom noticed Harry’s sudden heightened emotions, he didn’t show it. “I’ve certainly learned never to underestimate you, Miss Hubble.”

“Smart man,” Harry agreed and then held out his empty cup when Tom picked up the thermos for a refill. They chatted for half an hour more, and Harry told Tom in detail what had happened during his confrontation with Dumbledore. Tom took great delight in Harry basically calling Dumbledore out on his bullshit.

They made it back to the castle in time for dinner and said their goodbyes with the understanding they’d see each other again the next afternoon in the library.

Myrtle was already seated at the Ravenclaw table. She had her head down, face pale. Harry sat down beside her and gave her a questioning look.

“Are you all right?” Harry whispered while he reached for the mashed potatoes.

Myrtle nodded, glanced up at him and gave him a tremulous smile. “Yeah. It’s just…students were talking in the library. About us and the others.”

“Ah.” Harry spooned potatoes on his plate while a frown slowly took over his face. Of course kids would gossip about what had happened. Harry knew only too well how mean teenagers could be. As long as it stayed with a bit of gossip, they’d be able to ignore it, even if it was unpleasant to hear it. But Harry had a gut feeling that some students would be happy to use this as an opportunity to bully some mudbloods. Or a few might believe they needed to avenge poor Konrad Mulciber, who was clearly the victim of slander or some such nonsense.

Harry had already briefly considered teaching Myrtle and the other muggleborns some defence. Perhaps now was the time to make good on that offer.

“After dinner, we’ll visit Dippet,” Harry told Myrtle to hopefully make her feel better.

“Dippet? Why?” Myrtle did perk up a little, if only because she was a Ravenclaw and therefor innately curious.

Harry gave her a huge grin. “It’s a surprise.”

Dippet was in his office, still looking beyond tired. Harry imagined that the revelations of that day did weigh heavily on him. As far as Harry knew, Dippet wasn’t a bad person at all. Just an ignorant one, who believed the best of people and therefore had a hard time comprehending there were real monsters out there, hiding amongst the regular people.

“Miss Hubble, Miss Warren,” Dippet said, seated behind his ornate desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Thank you for seeing us,” Harry said as he and Myrtle stood in front of the desk. “I’ll keep it quick, since it’s been a trying day for all of us.” Dippet nodded in agreement so Harry barged on. “I’d like to start a self-defence club for students.”

Dippet’s bushy eyebrows rose significantly. “And who should lead such a club? We have a competent Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, but she is quite busy and I doubt she’d have time for this.”

“I’d lead it,” Harry said, putting as much confidence in his voice as he could. “My aunt is an Unspeakable and she’s taught me quite a bit about self-defence. I’m sure I could teach my fellow students plenty of useful things to help keep them safe.”

Dippet nodded thoughtfully, though his overall expression was one of genuine grief. “It pains me that such a club is even necessary in my school, Miss Hubble. You have my permission to start it.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Harry gave the old Headmaster a respectful nod and Myrtle quickly did the same. They hurried out of the office and once they found themselves in a mostly empty hallway, Myrtle pulled on Harry’s arm in sheer enthusiasm.

“You’ll teach me, right? Everything you know? That magic push you did?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Harry said with a laugh, truly happy to see some light come back into Myrtle’s eyes. “We’ll start recruiting tomorrow. We’ll get the word out first with the muggleborns, year three and up I think.”

“I’ll help,” Myrtle was quick to say. “Whatever you need, Harriet, I’ll help you.”

They made some tentative plans how they would organize the club as they walked towards Ravenclaw Tower. It had been a truly trying day and Harry really was exhausted, so he planned to tuck himself into bed with a book and let sleep claim him as soon as possible, no matter it was very early still.

But that plan was put on hold when they found their roommates occupying their dormitory.

“Oh, look who it is,” Daisy Corner said, seated on her bed, offering Harry and Myrtle a contemptuous look. “The sluts.”

Harry’s wand was in his hand before he’d even thought to draw it and he effortlessly turned Daisy into a pigeon. Olive started screaming while Patricia turned as pale as a ghost and almost tripped over herself to get away from Harry. And Daisy the pigeon flapped frantic wings, trying to fly but failing miserably.

Olive was being exceptionally loud and Harry really did not feel like explaining himself to a prefect that evening. Plus, he did not want anyone outside their dormitory to know just how powerful he was. Turning a human into an animal was quite advanced magic, after all. So with a sigh, Harry swished his wand and turned Daisy back to herself. It took Daisy a few hilarious seconds to realize she was a girl again during which she crouched on her bed and flapped her arms as though her life depended on it.

Myrtle, meanwhile, had both hands pressed over her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

“I warned you,” Harry said, giving the three girls his most unimpressed glare. “I warned you to leave us alone and you didn’t even manage to last a day.”

“Sorry,” Patricia said with a stutter. Olive had at least stopped screaming, but now she was gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing rapidly. Daisy sat on her bed and stared at the wall with a blank look on her face, apparently going through some immediate existential crisis after her brief foray into being a bird.

Harry cleared his throat and gave each girl a pointed look. “What happened to Myrtle and myself is a terrible thing. It happened through no fault of our own. I sincerely hope it never happens to any of you, because I truly wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” By now the three girls looked at least a little bit ashamed of themselves for their earlier reactions, but Harry wasn’t quite done. “Bring it up again, and I will hurt you, I promise.” Harry managed a sly little smile as he looked at the girls. “Oh, and just for your information, Myrtle and myself are starting an official self-defence club. Dippet has given us permission to do so. You’re not invited. Good night.” And with that, Harry turned his back to the girls, who took all but three seconds to collect themselves before they managed to flee the dormitory as though a whole battalion of dementors were after them.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Myrtle said in between bouts of helpless giggles.

“That was more luck than anything,” Harry quickly said, to explain away his sudden ability to turn people into animals. “I certainly didn’t think it would work. I was hoping to see her covered in feathers at the most.”

Myrtle seemed to buy that explanation, much to Harry’s relief, and they got ready for bed. Harry took a long, hot shower to help relax himself, and then curled up under the covers with Mrs Ashford, because having her comforting presence close was the perfect way to relax. Harry read about different recipes for moisturizing potions until he fell asleep, Mrs Ashford lying peacefully across his chest.

The next morning offered a few interesting things.

As Harry and Myrtle entered the Great Hall there was an obvious increase in whispers, but Harry easily ignored them. Being the Boy Who Lived truly had immunized him against frivolous student gossip.

Another thing that happened was that Tom received a letter and a small package. The surprised look on Tom’s face indicated that this was not a regular thing. Harry, who’d gone through a whole Hogwarts career without receiving much mail either, save for the occasional chocolate easter egg from Mrs Weasley or short letters from Sirius, felt a huge burst of warm sympathy while he watched Tom open the letter. Tom’s expression was carefully blank while he read but Harry saw his eyes warm more and more as he finished the letter. The package contained a book, but on what subject Harry couldn’t tell.

If Harry had to guess, Newt had just sent his brand-new family member a surprise gift.

What was a bigger surprise, even, was that Harry received two letters himself. One from Euphemia Potter, in which she delicately wrote that she’d heard from Charlus about Harry’s unfortunate altercations with another student and that if Harry ever wanted to talk or vent that Euphemia was more than happy to listen. That letter gave Harry a significant lump in his throat, because it reminded him that in this life he did have family that truly cared about him. It was still such a new feeling to Harry that it truly made him a little emotional. He tucked the letter away with the plan to write Euphemia a reply later that day.

The second letter was from Ruby Baird, the reporter from The Daily Prophet. She’d learned, through a trusted source at the Ministry, that Harry was involved in the Konrad Mulciber case, and she asked Harry for an interview, through letters if needed. Harry closed that letter, unsure what to do about it. On the one hand, he did want the truth out there, of what had happened at Hogwarts. But on the other hand, Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to give an actual interview about it. Harry decided to think about it for a day or so.

They had a busy day of classes, with double Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology. Harry kept his head down, focused on his work, and ignored any and all gossip he heard around him. Myrtle was a bit flustered by all the whispers at first, but the more Harry kept his calm, the easier it became for Myrtle to ignore all the gossip as well.

After classes they met in the library, where Lukas and Annabel were already seated at a table with Ben and Arnold the Hufflepuffs. Just as Harry took a seat, Tom entered the library, his face lighting up with a smile the moment he spotted Harry. Without waiting for an invitation, Tom sat down across from Harry, not even bothering to give anyone else a greeting.

“I’ve got news,” Harry told his friends, drawing everyone’s attention away from Tom’s innate rudeness. “Dippet’s given me permission to start a self-defence club. Anyone interested?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Tom immediately raised a hand like the eager schoolboy he was at heart. “I’m in.”

“Wait, wait,” Annabel said, looking at Harry in slight disbelief. “Self-defence? What does that even mean?” The others also looked eager to get an answer to that, so Harry took a deep breath and started talking.

“I’m thinking of making the club about more than just learning hexes and curses. We’ll learn those, too, but I can also show you some hand-to-hand moves. What to do should you lose your wand. On top of that, I think that we as muggleborns or muggle-raised teens need to learn about the wizarding world and how to truly navigate it.”

“We need to understand their laws,” Ben Bishop said with an agreeable nod.

“Exactly,” Harry said, pleased to see that his friends were starting to understand what Harry’s goals were for them all. “This whole miserable episode of the past day has clearly shown us that muggleborns and muggle-raised witches and wizards are essentially second-rate citizens in the wizarding world.”

“We had noticed that, too,” Lukas murmured with a frown.

“So we keep promoting the Ancestor Potion to prove once and for all that we are descendent from squibs and thus from actual witches and wizards, and in the meantime we make sure we can defend ourselves in every way that matters.” Harry sat back in his seat and gave everyone an expectant look.

“That sounds fine by me,” Lukas said, sharing a quick glance with Annabel. “We’re in.” The Hufflepuffs voiced their support not soon after, and just like that Harry had the start of an official magical self-defence club.

“I’m thinking of calling it the Defence Association. DA for short,” Harry said, leaning forwards again and placing both arms on the table.

“Good name,” Tom said with an admiring little smile. “Informative yet to the point.”

Harry chuckled in response. There was something rather hilarious about Tom Riddle approving of the name that had once been used by a group of teenagers determined to destroy him once and for all. Of course, back in those days most kids had ended up calling it Dumbledore’s Army, much to Harry’s later disappointment. At that moment Harry was never naming anything after his old mentor again, for obvious reasons, but he did rather like the name Defence Association, and he particularly liked using something from his old life to help the people in his current one. It had a nice, warm nostalgic ring to Harry.

“When do we meet?” Myrtle asked eagerly.

“For now I’m thinking this Saturday.” Harry quickly held up a hand when Lukas looked about to protest. “Quidditch season hasn’t started yet, so for now our Saturdays are free. Once Quidditch starts up we’ll meet on a different day.”

“Good, because while I like your idea for this student group, I like Quidditch more,” Lukas said while Arnold Wells made an agreeable noise.

“Trust me, I get it.” Harry grinned for a moment, knowing full well that in his past life he’d have made the exact same comment. “For now, I need your help recruiting others. We’re looking for muggleborns and muggle-raised kids, 3rd year and up. Anyone who fits that bill is welcome.”

“Where will we meet?” Tom asked, a calculating look on his face.

“I’m thinking under the beech tree near the lake for now, unless it’s raining buckets. I’ll find us an indoor location over the next few weeks.” Harry was happy to see no one seemed to mind meeting outside. It was still September and the weather had been mild, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Harry was going to introduce this brand-new DA to the Room of Requirement eventually, but he didn’t want to lead with that from the start. It might make clever folks like Tom a bit suspicious how Harry suddenly knew so many of Hogwarts’ secrets. Best to give it some time and then show them the room with an excuse that a house-elf told Harry about it. Which was ultimately true.

Harry wasn’t worried about people abusing the Room of Requirement. He’d already removed all the valuable items from it over the summer. Whatever was left in there other people were welcome to use. Harry hardly needed it with the fortune from the basilisk sale filling his vault.

They turned towards their homework. Harry quickly finished his Transfiguration essay and then took out a fresh sheet of parchment and started making a list of spells and curses he wanted to teach his brand-new students. He’d start simple, as he’d done with the original DA. Make sure they all knew the basics. But after that he’d move on to more complex magic. The Patronus Charm, for sure. But Harry also considered a few of the more useful spells he’d learned during Auror training, such as different types of restraint.

And Harry planned on teaching his new students wandless magic. It would be a momentous task, and not every student would be able to learn, but Harry made it a goal there and then to teach as many of them as he could to at least summon a wand back wandlessly. It was one of the most important and potentially life-saving things to know in a duel.

“Want some help?” Tom whispered across the table. Apparently the man was really good at reading upside down because he stared eagerly at Harry’s notes. “I’d be happy to help you create a comprehensive curriculum for the DA.”

Harry blinked and then sighed. Tom the eager schoolboy wanted to do more work to no one’s surprise. From time to time Tom really reminded Harry of Hermione and her endless enthusiasm for academics. Except Tom had an underlying dark side that forever lingered just beneath the surface that Hermione had never had. Not that Harry minded. His adult years had taught him quite well that the world was rarely divided between light and dark, but that most things were just different shades of grey. Including Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“Sure,” Harry finally said when Tom’s gaze became more and more pleading by the minute.

“Myrtle, switch places with me,” Tom all but demanded. Yeah, they really had to work on his manners. When Tom was in public, he had impeccable manners. But Harry noticed that when Tom was around what he considered his peers, he forgot about polite gestures at once.

A minute of moving books and quills later, Tom plopped down beside Harry and gave him a pleased little smile. “All right, what have you got so far?” Without waiting for permission, Tom slid Harry’s parchment closer and gave it a good look, nodding along with all the suggestions until he came across one that stumped him. “The Patronus Charm? That seems a bit excessive.”

“It’s not. It’s the only defence against Dementors, and lethifolds though I don’t expect we’ll run into many of those here in Britain,” Harry said in a snooty tone, feeling just a bit insulted at Tom’s clear dismissal.

“I don’t expect us to meet many Dementors either,” Tom said, his smile morphing into a teasing grin as he gave Harry a rather condescending look.

“It can also be used to communicate,” Harry quickly countered.

Tom shook his head and picked up Harry’s quill. “It takes years to master. It’s a complete waste of time.” And with that, Tom crossed out the Patronus charm on Harry’s list.

In seconds Harry had his wand in hand, aimed it straight at Tom’s face and said, “Expecto Patronum.”

He expected his trusty stag to erupt but what shot out of his wand was a lioness who batted Tom straight out of his chair with one enormous swipe of her paw.

Myrtle shrieked while Annabel and Lukas jumped up from their chairs. The lioness prowled around the table once, giving everyone a good look before she arrived back at Tom, who sat on the floor looking like he hadn’t a clue what had just happened. The lioness gave a soundless roar and sat on her haunches, glaring at Tom.

“Don’t ever interfere with my work again,” Harry said in an utterly serious voice, glaring at Tom just as much as his Patronus was doing.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said quickly, though Harry doubted he meant it. “Is that a corporeal Patronus?” Tom reached out a hand to the silvery lioness, who immediately batted at it with her giant paw, lips curling up in a snarl.

“No, that’s a unicorn, Tom,” Harry drawled, meanwhile staring at the lioness in surprise. Up until that day, Harry’s Patronus had been a stag. He’d tested it during the holidays, and his stag had appeared like always. But now there was a lioness, and the more Harry thought about that, the more he understood why. It was the same and yet the opposite of his Animagus form. Two different sides of the same coin. Or rather Harry, a man, living inside a woman’s body. Duality sharing a single form.

The lioness glanced over her shoulder at Harry before dissolving into the air, having deemed Harry safe and Tom no longer a threat.

“No casting spells in the library!” Jamaal Gallegos the librarian snapped as he came hurrying over. “Out, all of you.”

Harry got up from his seat and raised a hand while giving Gallegos a contrite look. “I did that, Sir. Please don’t send my friends away for my mistake.”

Gallegos gave him a considering look as Tom finally got up from the floor and dusted himself off. “Very well, your friends can stay, but you’re banned for today and tomorrow.”

Harry hung his head, trying to seem remorseful, while he packed his things.

“You can cast a corporeal Patronus?” Arnold said in utter disbelief while Ben seemed at a complete loss for words.

“You have to teach us,” Annabel said while Myrtle was still white as a sheet while she stared at Harry.

“I will, during the DA.” Harry winked at his friends while he finished loading up his bookbag. He slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t worry,” he quickly added when Myrtle looked ready to protest. “I was finished with homework anyway.”

And with that, Harry strolled out of the library while around him student after student whispered about the fact that measly Harriet Hubble had just cast a corporeal Patronus in the library.

Tom came hurrying after Harry, books barely clutched to his chest, parchment flapping about under his elbow. “Harriet, wait!”

Slowing his pace, Harry gave Tom an amused smirk over his shoulder.

When Tom finally caught up with Harry, he whispered, “Just how powerful are you, Harriet Hubble?”

“Plenty powerful,” Harry responded with a chuckle.

“Yes,” Tom said, face a mask of intrigue. “I suspect that you are.”

“Ruin my work again, and you’ll get confirmation of your suspicion.”

Tom laughed. “Don’t tempt me. Now where are we going?”

“The kitchens.” Harry led him down the staircase with a spring in his step. The hilarious mental image of Harry’s lioness dumping Tom on his arse was going to fuel decades of Patronus charms, Harry was sure. “I could do with a spot of tea.”

“Excellent plan,” Tom agreed with a polite little smile. “Do lead the way.” Now that they were back in public he seemed to have remembered his manners again.

Soon enough they were seated at a table in the kitchens with a steaming pot of tea between them, as well as a plate with slices of fruitcake. Now that Harry had given him a real demonstration of his powers, Tom was suddenly a lot more agreeable to go along with Harry’s more advanced suggestions instead of just dismissing them out of hand.

“We should also add some wards,” Tom said when they were on their second cup of tea. “So very few people know how to create wards, even basic ones.”

Harry blinked. “That’s a really good suggestion. I’ll add it to the list.”

Tom was reading Harry’s parchment upside down again. “Wandless magic?” Tom seemed stuck between wanting to believe Harry could do wandless magic and wanting to laugh in his face at the mere suggestion a student could do that at all.

“Yeah,” Harry said vaguely. “I’ve been practicing some stuff over the summer. Just small stuff.”

“Like what?” Tom said in a clear dare while he sat back and crossed his arms, brown eyes narrowed.

“Like this.” Harry pretended to concentrate really hard, face scrunched up in a deep frown, and then he waved his hand at the plate between them, released a small burst of magic, and pushed a slice of fruitcake right off the plate.

“Very nice.” Tom’s face broke out into a wide grin, as though he couldn’t contain himself. He raised his hand, gestured with his long fingers and the slice of cake rose into the air where it hovered between them for a few seconds before falling to the tabletop.

“Brilliant! You can be my assistant teacher,” Harry said at once.

“Or,” Tom said with a bit of a pinched expression at being called an ‘assistant’ of any kind. “I can simply teach the group with you.”

“Or we can do that, sure,” Harry agreed easily enough. It probably was a good idea to have someone else there to help with teaching. In his first life Harry had been the sole teacher of the DA and that had been rather taxing at times. Having someone there who could teach as well as Harry was definitely a good thing. And, to be honest, Harry was curious to see how Tom would teach others. Once upon a time Tom Riddle had applied to become a teacher at Hogwarts, after all.

They drank more tea and Tom had a few more suggestions while Harry also came up with more ideas and by the time they should be headed to the Great Hall for dinner they had enough of a curriculum to keep the DA busy for years and years.

“Thanks,” Harry said as they trooped across the Entrance Hall. “That was helpful.” And a surprising amount of fun, but Harry wasn’t about to admit that.

“No. Thank you,” Tom said immediately. He even looked like he meant it, and he gave Harry a crooked grin before heading towards the Slytherin table.

Harry sat down beside Myrtle at the Ravenclaw table and was immediately subjected to a mild form of interrogation about what Harry had planned for the DA and could he please, please, please teach Myrtle the Patronus charm as well. Around them many students were still whispering about Harry’s impromptu demonstration in the library. Many students who hadn’t witnessed the event openly questioned how a fifth year muggleborn could pull something like that off and if it even had been real. But those who had witnessed it insisted Harriet’s Patronus had been the real thing.

Sighing, Harry reached for the roasted carrots and parsnips and spooned some on his plate. Curse his Gryffindor impulsivity. Every single day Harry promised himself he was going to keep a low profile, and every single day his impulsivity buggered it all up. Just as Harry placed a porkchop on his plate, Headmaster Dippet rose from his seat at the head table.

“Might I have your attention for a moment, please?” Dippet said, still looking as though he’d barely slept in weeks. “I have some unpleasant news to share.”

Around them students quieted down, placing down their cutlery and sitting back while they stared at Dippet in anticipation and curiosity.

“I have had the unpleasant task yesterday of expelling a student. Konrad Mulciber, a fifth year Slytherin, is no longer a student at this school.” Immediate whispers erupted and it took Dippet a minute of waving his hands around to calm everyone down again. “Mr Mulciber is accused of various serious crimes and the Auror department are investigating those crimes as we speak. I’d like to take this moment to ask any student, no matter who you are, to come speak to me personally should another student ever hurt you in any way. My door is always open and I will take your story seriously, I promise. Thank you. Back to your meals.” And with a tired sigh Dippet sat down again.

The whispers turned into full blown chatter and most people seemed to understand Mulciber had been expelled because he’d sexually assaulted at least a handful of female students. Both Harry and Myrtle were the immediate subject of many, many curious looks, but Harry gave Myrtle a little pep-talk.

“Ignore them,” Harry whispered while he went about plating up his dinner as usual. “They’re curious, as is expected. But ultimately their opinion doesn’t matter and their words cannot hurt us. So, just ignore them and carry on with your life.”

“Keep calm and carry on,” Myrtle said with determination in her voice.

Harry blinked. That sounded familiar, but it took rooting through some of Harriet’s memories to realize why. It was the message on a famous propaganda poster created by the British Government at the start of the war. “Yes, exactly,” Harry told Myrtle with an amused smile. “Keep calm and carry on.”

A few spots down the table, Olive was giving them dirty looks while Patricia and Daisy avoided Harry’s gaze like the plague. Well, as long as they stuck with dirty looks and didn’t try to escalate things again, Harry didn’t care what his roommates got up to.

After dinner Myrtle and Harry went up to their dormitory. Myrtle wanted to practise the Aguamenti charm, which they’d learned just that morning, and she needed to do that in the bathroom. While Harry sat down on his bed, he remembered Tom’s words about warding and this reminded Harry he needed to put up some wards around their beds. As much as Harry wanted to believe otherwise, he wasn’t yet convinced their roommates wouldn’t try something in retaliation, and messing with their belongings and their beds was the safest way for their roommates to get revenge.

“Myrtle, want me to ward your bed?” Harry called into the bathroom where Myrtle was shooting jet after jet of water into a shower stall.

“Yes, please!”

And so Harry got to work. His trunk was already properly warded but he added a few extra wards to Myrtle’s trunk to keep her stuff safe. Then he warded both their desks and their wardrobes and finally he turned both their beds into bunkers. Well, magically speaking he fortified them in such a way that even a pissed off dragon would have trouble getting to them while they were sleeping safely in their beds.

And just because he could, Harry added a colour reveal charm to their wards. These were popular charms with shopkeepers and houseowners. If anyone tried to mess with the wards, their whole heads would turn a bright colour and stay that way for a few days, making it easy to catch shoplifters and burglars. Harry loved those charms because it had made his work as an Auror so much easier when you could pick the suspect out of a crowd at a distance because his entire head was bright orange.

For Myrtle, Harry choose a nice metallic bronze and for himself a bright Ravenclaw blue. This way they’d know at once if one of their roommates tried to get through their wards at any time, even when they weren’t there.

After Harry explained to a gleeful Myrtle how the wards worked, they decided to turn in for the night. The next day, Thursday, was their busiest day of the whole week and they both wanted to be well rested.

As usual by now, Harry and Myrtle left for breakfast well before their roommates. They had double Potions first thing. Harriet had always worked with Myrtle in the past during Potions, and Harry meant to continue that, but Tom clearly had different plans. He all but shouldered poor Myrtle aside and almost sat down in Harry’s lap in his eagerness to be his partner for that class.

“Hi, Tom,” Harry said with an amused look as Tom finally found his own seat and tried to recover from his rather uncharacteristically clumsy claiming of Harry’s desk. “Sleep well?”

Daisy entered the classroom without her usual two cronies. Myrtle stood awkwardly to the side until she finally sat down beside an equally awkward Daisy when Slughorn told them to settle down.

“I slept very well, thank you,” Tom said, getting his potions kit out. “Yourself?”

“Very well, thank you.” Harry pretended as though nothing was amiss while he got his own kit. “If you want to work with me, you can simply ask. No need to upset poor Myrtle like that.”

Tom blinked and then his lips pulled back into a triumphant grin. “Okay. From now on we shall partner up in every class we share.”

“You forgot the magic word,” Harry muttered, again a little put off by Tom’s demanding tone.

To his credit, Tom seemed to realize at once he’d been rather rude. “Apologies. Let me rephrase that. Harriet, would you please be my partner in all our shared classes. I do believe we work well together and we’d be able to bring out the best in each other.”

“Well,” Harry said as he beamed at Tom. “If you put it like that, of course I’ll partner with you.”

Just at that moment the classroom door opened and Olive and Patricia stepped through, heads down but that did nothing to hide the fact that Patricia’s head was a nice metallic bronze while Olive’s was a bright blue.

“Sorry we’re late,” Olive mumbled as they sat down at the first available desk. “We were at the hospital wing.”

“I can see why,” Slughorn said with a well-meaning chuckle. “Someone did an excellent job at some colour charms.”

Harry looked at his two colourful roommates with mild interest, but beside him, Tom narrowed his eyes and seemed to know exactly who had done such an excellent job on Olive and Patricia.

“What did they do?” Tom whispered as Slughorn began lecturing on the potion they were to brew.

“I just added a colour modifier to the wards around my bed and trunk,” Harry said with a giggle because he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes it was nice to take credit for a job well done.

“Oh, that is clever,” Tom mused, more to himself than to Harry. “I’ll have to look into that. Ever since I’ve started spending time with you, my wards have been tampered with as well. No one got through,” Tom added quickly when Harry looked ready to ask him about that. “But it would be nice to know exactly who it was.”

“I’ll teach you,” Harry offered at once, because he liked Tom nowadays, and he wanted Tom to be safe in Slytherin. Besides, Harry was also curious who exactly would be trying to mess with Tom’s belongings.

The rest of the day flew by. Harry was still banned from the library that afternoon but that hardly mattered because they had classes almost to dinner time. After dinner Harry and Myrtle decided to simply go to the Ravenclaw common room and do their homework there, since they were both already tired and they still had Astronomy later that night.

But the moment they stepped through the door and into the common room, Olive, Patricia and Rosemary Driscoll, their Head of House were waiting for them.

“They did this!” Olive snarled, head still blue. She tapped the Prefect badge on her chest. “They attacked a Prefect. They should be expelled at the very least.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

“We did not attack you,” Harry said before Driscoll could say a word. “You tried to break into our warded property.”

Olive sputtered in quiet outrage while Driscoll gave them both considering looks. “Is this true?” Rosemary Driscoll asked, her usually friendly expression nowhere to be found.

“I’m a Prefect!” Olive said much too loudly, tapping the badge on her chest furiously. “I have a right to perform an inspection of our dormitories.”

“No, you don’t,” Myrtle said at once, and then shrank back a little when everyone turned to look at her. “Only the Heads of Houses, after having been given permission by either the Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster, have the right to perform an inspection of a student’s private possessions.” Myrtle ducked her head a little when Harry gave her a proud smile. “I read the rulebook years ago and I have a good memory,” Myrtle mumbled by way of explanation.

“Miss Warren is correct,” Driscoll said with a pleased smile aimed at Myrtle. “So you both tried to break into something that didn’t belong to you. That still doesn’t explain your colourful heads.” Driscoll gave Harry a very pointed look.

“It’s just a little colour modifier I added to the wards,” Harry explained with a shrug, not quite understanding why anyone would want to focus on that aspect of the whole ordeal.

“Really?” Driscoll visibly perked up. “How fascinating. Did you come up with that yourself?”

Harry was about to snort and say that colour modifiers in wards had been around for ages and just about every merchant used them, as did most home owners. But then, at the last second, he remembered he was now living in the 1940s and it was entirely possible those specific wards hadn’t been invented yet. Harry truly had no clue when they’d been created. So in the end Harry gave a vague shrug and said, “I just experimented a little. I wasn’t even sure if it would work, but apparently it did.”

Driscoll looked ready to interrogate Harry for a few hours on how exactly he’d come up with this delightful bit of magic, so Harry decided to interfere. He wanted to stop anyone looking into his magical abilities too much, and he wanted to stop Olive and her cronies once and for all. “Now that we’re all here anyway,” Harry said, glaring at Olive and Patricia. “I’d like to file a formal complain against Olive, Patricia and Daisy.”

“For what?” Driscoll asked with a concerned frown.

“For bullying,” Harry said in a hard voice. “Those three have been bullying myself and Myrtle since the moment we stepped into this castle.”

“That’s not true,” Olive insisted at once with a bit of a panicked expression on her face.

“It is true! You call us the M-word all the time,” Myrtle countered bravely, her cheeks colouring a rosy red.

Driscoll held up both hands to ward off any back and forth shouting that threatened to erupt.

“If you have a Pensieve, I’d be happy to share memories of all the instances of bullying,” Harry said reasonably while giving Driscoll a pointed look.

“What?” Olive shrieked, face paling drastically while beside her Patricia looked like she might actually keel over from shock. “She can’t do that. She has no right.”

Harry was sure that Olive had just sealed her own faith with those words because at once Driscoll gave her a shrewd look. “I do not have a Pensieve, but the Headmaster does and he did seem very adamant that any instances of students harming other students should be brought to his attention. Follow me.” And without further comment, Driscoll turned on her heels and marched out of the common room, the four students hurrying after her.

Dippet wasn’t exactly happy to see them, since the man desperately looked like he needed a good night’s sleep, but when Driscoll explained why they were there, he immediately agreed this case needed further investigation.

“They’re liars,” Olive kept insisting while Patricia chewed on her thumbnail with vigour. “They’re nothing but liars!”

Meanwhile, Harry stepped closer to the Pensieve and pulled out memory after memory of Harriet and Myrtle being called names, being hexed, having their property going missing or finding it destroyed and having their homework stolen or messed with. After he’d dumped in fifteen memories or so, Driscoll placed a hand on his arm.

“That’s enough for now, Miss Hubble. I’m sure we’ll get an accurate picture of the situation this way.” And without further delay, both Driscoll and Dippet leaned forward to enter the Pensieve.

Olive stood full of impotent fury while Patricia had tears streaming down her cheeks. Neither said anything, but both were shaking with fear and anger. Harry ignored them and pretended to study the portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses that adorned the wall. Seeing Phineas Black filled Harry with a warm wave of nostalgia, but he didn’t linger on seeing Sirius’ great-great-grandfather. He had more important things to focus on now.

Right after Dippet and Driscoll pulled out of the Pensieve, Dippet turned to Olive and Patricia. “Your badge, now,” Dippet said in a voice that brooked no argument, his white bushy eyebrows drawn down in a deep frown. Driscoll looked pale and her mouth was pulled down in a scowl.

Olive shook her head and flapped her hands in a state of near panic. “You can’t do this! You can’t believe them. Their kind always lies.”

Dippet summoned the Prefect badge off Olive’s chest with a flick of his wand. “The three of you have two months of detention to be served with Sullivan Strickland, our Care of Magical Creatures Professor. I would expel you if I hadn’t already expelled Mr Mulciber yesterday. I do not want to bring more shame to this fine institution, but understand that your behaviour has been absolutely despicable. Dismissed!”

Both Olive and Patricia were crying by the time they hurried out of the Headmaster’s office.

“Ms Hubble,” Dippet said with a deep sigh, blue eyes watery as he looked at Harry. “I am truly sorry that I’m here apologizing to you again on behalf of some of my students.”

Harry nodded in understanding but otherwise kept his mouth shut since there really wasn’t anything to say. A lot had gone wrong under Dippet’s direction, no matter that Dippet obviously had always wanted nothing but the best for his students.

“Miss Warren,” Dippet said, glancing at Myrtle. “I owe you an apology as well.”

Myrtle bit her lip and looked very close to tears.

“I know this won’t make up for the bullying you have suffered for all these years, but please accept this as a token of my sincere regret.” And with that Dippet handed the Prefect badge to Harry. “And for being brave enough to report the bullying I award Ravenclaw fifty points. Each.”

Harry stared at the Prefect badge in his hand in wonder. How crazy was it that he finally became a Prefect and all he had to do to accomplish that was to die. Harry remembered the disappointment he’d felt when Ron had been made Prefect. Don’t get him wrong, Harry loved Ron and wanted nothing but the best for him. He’d been sincerely happy for Ron. But at the same time Harry couldn’t suppress the idea that Harry had accomplished more than Ron during their years at Hogwarts and therefore Harry deserved to be Prefect more. But then the war had picked up and they’d been running and fighting for their lives and suddenly such a silly badge hadn’t mattered anymore.

And yet now that Harry was awarded a Prefect badge he couldn’t deny that it felt really bloody good.

“Put it on,” Myrtle said, smiling at him with obvious pride.

“Yeah.” Harry’s hands shook a little as he pinned the badge on his chest. “Thank you,” he added to Dippet, who nodded in return and then waved them all out of his office.

“Miss Hubble,” Driscoll said as they descended the staircase leading down from the office. “About that colour modifier.”

Harry wanted to groan and bang his head to the wall. Fucking Ravenclaws and their insistent curiosity about anything new. “Professor Driscoll,” Harry said as politely as he could. “Could we do this another time? We still have homework to finish and we have Astronomy in an hour or two.”

“Of course, of course,” Driscoll said with an apologetic smile. “We’ll talk later.”

Harry and Myrtle all but fled to their dormitories, which they found empty, thankfully.

“This is so great!” Myrtle said and all but danced around the dormitory, arms outstretched. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen her as carefree as this before. “We’re in charge now!”

Harry laughed and shook his head. It seemed that the power was already going to Myrtle’s head. For the next hour, Harry finished up his homework, which was all tedious and boring, and then he wrote out the ward with the colour modifier for Tom. He added simply instructions, but he doubted Tom would need them, clever man that he was. Then Harry decided to write a short letter to Ruby Baird from the Daily Prophet as well. Perhaps it was better if the reporter got some answers from Harry instead of some random students who weren’t even sure what had happened. So Harry wrote to Ms Baird that he’d be willing to answer a few short questions at his own discretion.

Before they headed to the Astronomy tower they made a quick stop at the owlery where Holly was happy to take the letter to Ms Baird.

By the time Astronomy came to an end, Harry about fell asleep where the stood. He cursed whoever had made the class schedule that year and thought it was a good idea to tack Astronomy onto the day they had the most classes out of the whole bloody week.

The next morning Harry walked into the Great Hall with a spring in his step. People all around them noticed the badge on his chest at once and whispers broke out, especially when later Olive and Patricia entered with their heads still coloured. Daisy trailed after them, face pale while she stared at their shoes. Harry imagined that all three were dreading the post that morning, since Dippet would have informed their parents last night of what had happened. Well, they brought that on themselves, and Harry felt no sympathy for any of them. He remembered vividly how miserable they’d made Harriet’s life at Hogwarts.

The moment Tom strolled into the Great Hall his eyes were drawn to Harry, and the second he noticed the badge on his chest, Tom’s face broke out in a sharp grin as though seeing Harry as a Prefect was somehow a personal victory for him. Harry rolled his eyes in response. Honestly.

Their first class was double Defence. Galatea Merrythought was an older witch with sharp eyes and grey hair she kept expertly coiffed in a French twist. She noticed at once that things were different in her class.

For one, Harriet Hubble was suddenly a Prefect. And besides that, Tom Riddle, the most desirable student in all of the school, happily sat down beside Harry.

“Welcome, class,” Merrythought said while Harry slipped Tom the instructions for the colour modifier wards. Before Tom could tuck them away, Merrythought summoned the small scroll with a flick of her wand. “Let’s see what these two lovebirds are writing to each other.”

Much to Harry’s embarrassment his cheeks warmed noticeably. Beside him, Tom froze in his chair, expression eerily blank.

“Hm.” Merrythought took her time reading the scroll while around them students giggled and whispered furiously about the assumed relationship between Harry and Tom. “A ward modifier. Is that your love language, Mr Riddle?” Merrythought asked, clearly deeply amused by the whole situation. “Ward schemes?”

“Tom likes all kind of schemes,” Harry said before he could stop himself. “He’s not picky.”

Merrythought released a laugh and then quickly composed herself again. “But you are, aren’t you, Ms Hubble?” Merrythought gave first Harry and then Tom a very pointed look, as if to comment on Harry’s choice of love interest.

“We’re friends,” Tom said in a reasonable tone. Far too reasonable, as it turned out, because no one believed it if the whispers around them were any indication.

Harry sighed. Ah, teenage drama. Such fun.

Merrythought walked up to Tom’s desk and placed the scroll in front of him. Then she leaned a little closer and said in an over-the-top whisper, “If this is how she constructs wards, she’s a keeper.”

Tom’s only reply was a tiny, polite smile. He really did have an excellent poker face, Harry was forced to conclude.

Thankfully, Merrythought started the class at that point and for the first hour they went over everything they’d learned over the years up until that point. Then Merrythought took another twenty minutes to explain what was expected of them for their OWLs at the end of the year. Finally, Merrythought leaned against her desk as she observed her class.

“I heard an interesting rumour yesterday.” Merrythought gave the class a few moments to imagine what rumour this was exactly and then she moved her gaze towards Harry. “I heard that Ms Hubble cast a corporeal Patronus in the library. Mr Gallegos couldn’t shut up about it in the staff room last night.”

“People say a lot of things.” Harry gazed back at Merrythought without any reaction. He still had some hope he might be able to fly below the radar, even if that possibility seemed to get smaller with each passing day.

“It’s true,” Orion Black said with a bit of a smug smirk. “It was a mean old lioness that knocked Tom clean out of his chair.”

“My Patronus is not mean,” Harry snapped as he turned in his seat to glare at Black.

Beside him, Tom snorted and then gave Harry a bit of a disappointed look.

Fuck his impulsivity. Seriously, fuck that shit. Harry ignored Merrythought’s triumphant grin, whipped out his wand, and aimed his Patronus straight at Orion Black. The lioness burst out of his wand and stormed at Black with a silent roar. Black’s eyes widened almost comically and he scrambled out of his seat, falling over in his bid to get away. All around them students laughed and whispered.

“A perfectly cast Patronus,” Merrythought said, giving Harry a very short round of applause. “And cast silently, even.”

Fuck his impulsivity. Harry wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and groan at his own inability to think for three seconds. No, he just had to upstage a Slytherin and thereby unwittingly reveal his abilities at non-verbal casting. Instead, Harry just sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw,” Merrythought said with a small but pleased smile. Then she addressed the whole class again. “Can anyone say what a Patronus Charm is used for?” And the next twenty minutes was spent on an impromptu lecture on the Patronus charm, which bored the crap out of Harry.

“Homework for next week should provide a bit of a challenge,” Merrythought announced when class was almost over. “Next class we’re duelling, but you are not allowed to use offensive and defensive spells. Anything else goes. Get creative.”

Around them a large number of students groaned, but Harry perked up. They’d done this during Auror training as well, and Harry had always loved that. Duelling with household charms was a lot of fun, as it turned out, especially because you truly didn’t know what to expect.

“Thank goodness we’ve got Mrs Ashford to help us,” Tom said cheerfully as they packed their bags.

“Excuse me,” Harry said with a bit of a haughty sniff. “I have Mrs Ashford. You’ve only made fun of her, if I recall correctly.”

Tom chuckled, clearly enjoying bickering with Harry. “I did save her, if you recall.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that until right this moment you thought Mrs Ashford completely useless, while I have always appreciated her wisdom.” Harry gave Tom a cheeky wink. “Find your own books on household charms.”

Their next class was Potions and Harry ended up sitting beside a smug Tom once again.

“Ho, ho!” Slughorn said while he looked around the class after everyone was seated. “We’ve got ourselves a new Prefect! Congratulations, Miss Hubble. And Tom, make sure to bring her to our first Slug Club meeting of the year next week.

“Absolutely, Sir,” Tom said, his smirk downright unbearable. Harry wanted desperately to roll his eyes but he also didn’t want to offend Slughorn, especially because Harry hoped to create a future for himself in Potions. So Harry simply nodded and smiled and kept his mouth shut.

“So how bad is it?” Harry asked as they walked towards the Great Hall for lunch. “The Slug Club?”

Tom laughed right in Harry’s face. “That depends. It can be a bit tedious, but Slughorn is very well connected and always invites interesting guests to talk to us.”

Harry sighed and nodded his head. The few times he’d been to the Slug Club in his previous life it had been a rather dull affair, except that one time he’d taken Luna to the Slug Club’s Yule celebration. But that was with a Slughorn fearing for his life as he was hiding out at Hogwarts. This Slughorn was far younger and far more carefree, so perhaps his gatherings were more interesting and entertaining as well. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

After lunch they had Ancient Runes and Harry once again found himself seated beside Tom. Harry didn’t mind working with Tom, because at the very least Tom took their classes seriously and didn’t faff off like so many other students did. But Harry did still, on some level, feel like he had to keep on his toes around Tom Riddle. As much as Harry liked Tom these days, he hadn’t yet forgotten what Tom had the potential of becoming if things went a certain way.

Harry was allowed back in the library and that’s where they met with their now regular group to work on their homework.

“I’ve found some lads interested in joining the DA already,” Ben announced with a proud smile.

Harry exchanged a knowing look with Myrtle. Perhaps it was a good idea to recruit from Ravenclaw as well, which Harry had completely forgotten about so far. Then again, he had been rather busy of late.

After dinner they had a House Meeting in the Ravenclaw Common Room.

“Last night it was brought to my attention that Olive, Patricia and Daisy have not conducted themselves to the standards of Ravenclaw House,” Driscoll said with a grave look on her face as she stood in front of the assembled students. “Headmaster Dippet therefore decided to take the Prefect position away from Olive and grant it to Harriet instead. He has my full support in this decision. I’d like to remind everyone that my door is open and that if you are being hurt by anyone else at any point you are more than welcome to come talk to me.” Driscoll went on to announce a few more, far less dramatic, things and then the meeting was called to an end.

Harry glanced around the common room and with the help of some of Harriet’s memories he identified a few older students who came from a muggleborn or muggle-raised background. He approached them one by one.

“Hi, we’re starting a self-defence group. Would you like to join?” Harry asked each of them with his most disarming smile. They all needed a bit more information but after Harry gave them a little speech they all agreed to at least attend the first meeting the next morning.

“Should we write down a list of academic goals for the DA?” Myrtle asked once they entered their dormitory. “Some students really appreciate it if they know what they’re working towards.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed easily and for the next hour, they put together a list of goals for their students. Harry copied the list with a few flicks of his wand so they could distribute it amongst the DA members. Harry hoped for around 20 or so students. That would keep the group manageable.

The next morning Harry was full of nervous flutters, but they were the good kind of nerves. The kind that filled you with energy and concentration. As they arrived at the beech tree near the lake after breakfast, Harry noticed that even Tom had been able to recruit another Slytherin. A 7th year woman named Yourou Han, who was a half-blood raised by her muggle family since her magical father had died when she was a young child.

More and more students arrived, most of them muggleborns but a few half-bloods as well. There were none younger than 5th year, but in total there were 17 students, and that was fine by Harry.

“Welcome,” Harry said once it seemed everyone had arrived. Tom stepped up beside him and that’s when Harry remembered he’d agreed that Tom could teach the group with him. “To our first meeting of the Defence Association. We’ve compiled a list of Academic Goals that you can all read through at your own leisure.”

Myrtle walked around handing everyone a scroll.

“We’ll start with the basics, just to make sure everyone is up to the same level,” Harry continued, an oddly emotional lump trying to lodge itself in his throat. He remembered doing this a lifetime ago, when they were fighting both Voldemort and the Ministry. He also realized, again, that he would never see any of those friends again. But Harry managed to pull himself together before those memories could overwhelm him.

“Is it true that you can cast a corporal Patronus?” Abbie Pacheco, a 7th year Gryffindor asked with a curious tilt of her head.

“Yes,” Harry said with a reassuring smile. “And you will all learn to cast it as well.”

“Prove it.” This was said by someone sporting a very familiar face. Minerva McGonagall was a 6th year Gryffindor and she gave Harry a most unimpressed look as though she was calling him out on his bullshit. Harry was well acquainted with that particular expression.

Harry shrugged, got his wand out and cast his Patronus. The lioness prowled around but seeing no threat she quickly lay down at Harry’s feet.

McGonagall’s whole demeanour changed. “You have to teach us. Please!”

“I will, I will.” Harry called everyone to order because people had started talking enthusiastically while pointing at the snoozing lioness. “We’ll start with some basics, and afterwards I want to get started on some wandless magic because that will take the longest to learn.”

Multiple students gaped at Harry in utter disbelief. Others seemed to barely keep it together out of sheer excitement.

“Can you really teach us wandless magic?” Naveen Tikaram, a 6th year Ravenclaw asked in a tone that made it clear he’d love nothing better than to learn it but he was terribly worried he might not be able to.

“I can teach everyone at least some basics,” Harry assured him. “What everyone should strive for is to at least be able to summon your wand back wandlessly during a duel. Everything else you learn to cast wandlessly should be considered a bonus.”

It took Harry a few moments to calm everyone down again and they got started with basic defensive spells. There was some grumbling about having to cast simple disarming charms and stunners, but students seemed willing to put up with it since Harry promised them wandless magic after an hour of boring stuff. Harry was happy to see that all students had mastered the basic spells and he realized this was because they’d all had one good teacher in Defence instead of a whole string of useless twats who for the most part couldn’t teach a fish to swim, as Harry had suffered through in his first life. There were exceptions, like Lupin, but people like Quirrell with his stuttering, Lockhart and Umbridge had held students back to an absurd degree.

“All right, I’m glad to see we’re all on the same level. Everyone take a seat in a circle.” Harry sat down and around him people found seats on the grass while giving him curious looks. Earlier that morning, Harry had conjured a bunch of small candles and he distributed them amongst the students.

“Today we’ll start on learning to blow fire,” Harry said and raised the candle up to his face. “Like so.” Harry concentrated, blew across the candle and a small flame lit up the wick. Students released plenty of sounds of disbelief and admiration. Harry grinned at everyone and said, “Now you!”

Students laughed left and right and even Tom cracked a smile, though he was still giving Harry looks as though he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him before that day.

“Here’s how you get started,” Harry explained when everyone was settled down again. “First you relax, meditate for a while. Then you should visualize your magic. See it coursing through your own body. Give it a colour that suits your magic.” Harry waved a hand down his own body. “Mine is fiery orange. Yours might be blue like the sky, or green like the grass, or yellow like your favourite dress. Whatever suits you will work. Visualize your magic coursing through you, like the blood runs through your veins and the air moves in and out of your lungs. Once you’re able to do that, you can visualize your magic leaving your mouth in your breath and lighting your candle.”

“That’s it?” McGonagall asked with a dubious look.

“That’s it, but it will take most of you a while. Don’t rush, take your time, and visualize.”

Everyone got started, and Harry kept urging them to take it slow, relax, meditate and visualize. Of course, students all over kept blowing on their candles without any result because they were completely ignoring Harry’s instructions.

Tom managed it after five tries and his whole face lit up when his candle sported a small, flickering flame.

“Well done, Tom,” Harry said with a proud smile. “Look everyone, stop blowing mindlessly, and look here. Tom managed it.”

Harry let the students try for another twenty minutes or so, but no one else managed it which didn’t surprise Harry. It really was difficult to learn and would take most at least a few weeks to master. “This is your homework,” Harry said as he pushed himself up to his feet. “Remember to take your time. Relax. Meditate. Visualize. Next week we’ll see how far you’ve all gotten.”

“Thanks!” McGonagall said happily, tucking the candle in her pocket. More students shouted words of gratitude towards Harry, who waved them all off.

“That was brilliant,” Myrtle said, bouncing on her feet. “I’m going to keep trying.” She held the candle in front of her face and kept blowing as she walked back to the castle with Annabel and Lukas.

“That was a very good first gathering, I thought,” Tom said with an intent look. “You are a natural teacher.”

“Yeah?” Harry shrugged, though he was secretly pleased to hear those words. He had always enjoyed teaching. “We had a very motivated bunch of students so I’m sure that helped.”

“Undoubtedly.” Tom cleared his throat and suddenly looked a bit distracted. “I had a brief talk with the Head Boy this morning, to check your schedule for patrols now that you’re a Prefect. It turns out we’re both scheduled for this evening. Shall I pick you up at the foot of Ravenclaw Tower at 8?”

Harry blinked, his mind taking a moment to process what Tom had just all said. Prefects had to patrol the halls, Harry had almost forgotten that. And to be honest, the thought of walking through Hogwarts with Tom wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Sure,” Harry said with a pleasant smile. “You can show me how it’s done.”

They walked back to the castle together and split up in the Entrance Hall to each go to their common rooms. Harry met up with Myrtle and they decided to go to the Great Hall for some tea and wait there for lunch which would start within the hour.

Right after lunch, McGonagall approached the Ravenclaw table and gave Harry an uncertain smile. “Sorry to disturb you, Harriet, but Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office right away.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Harry almost walked straight to the Headmaster’s office before he remembered Dumbledore was Deputy Headmaster and his office was situated beside the Transfiguration classroom. Harry changed directions just in time and marched up the stairs. What the fuck did Dumbledore want with him now? The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized it could be about any number of things. Harry’s friendship with Tom Riddle, Harry’s involvement in the Ellen Mueller case, Harry’s sudden acquisition of his Prefect badge or Harry’s successful first gathering of the DA.

Dumbledore was the kind of man who liked to stick his nose in every bit of business, no matter how irrelevant it may seem.

“Come in,” Dumbledore called out when Harry knocked on his office door.

Dumbledore was seated behind his standard issue desk. It looked nothing like the ornate monstrosity he’d use once he’d become Headmaster. “Please, take a seat, Ms Hubble.” Dumbledore waved towards the empty chairs in front of the desk.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” Harry asked politely while he sat down in one of the chairs, back straight and shoulders squared. Harry was determined to remain unfailingly polite, which was a tactic he’d learned when dealing with hostile members of the public as an Auror. Just kill them with kindness and all that.

“Ah, yes, indeed.” Dumbledore leaned forwards a little and folded his hands on top of his desk while he took a few moments to study Harry. It was a simple tactic to make students question themselves as to why they were there and thus make them more open to spilling the beans. But Harry recognized it for what it was and simply sat perfectly still with a bland smile plastered on his face.

Finally, after a few long minutes, Dumbledore spoke, “It has come to my attention that you’ve started a student club. Is that correct?”

Harry nodded in response. “Yes, Professor.” Harry had learned ages ago that when being questioned it was best to say as little as possible for as long as you could. That way you limited the chance of accidentally saying much more than intended.

“A Defence Club?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Dumbledore sighed, as though terribly disappointed in Harry’s short answers, but in truth probably because he was getting frustrated with Harry’s measured responses. “Do you truly believe such a club is necessary?”

Harry raised both eyebrows and looked at Dumbledore as if the man had completely lost his mind. “Most assuredly, Professor.”

Waiting for Harry to elaborate, Dumbledore stared into Harry’s eyes but to his credit Harry never felt a brush of Legilimency. Perhaps Dumbledore didn’t yet use it on older students while he was just Deputy Headmaster. If he tried it on the wrong person and he got caught, he’d lose his job and probably have to appear before the Wizengamot at least. In Harry’s first life, Dumbledore had a rock solid reputation and ruled Hogwarts like a benign dictator, so he could pretty much do what he wanted. But this Dumbledore didn’t have quite that much power just yet. And Harry thought right at that moment that if Harry was ever in the position of stopping Dumbledore from gaining so much power, he absolutely would.

Dumbledore wasn’t a bad man, but he was definitely misguided in ways that made him a very dangerous man.

“It has come to my attention that you’re trying to teach the students of this club wandless magic,” Dumbledore said and Harry merely nodded in response. There were no laws against teaching or learning wandless magic. Most wizards and witches simply didn’t bother with it because it was bloody hard to learn, very time consuming to master and it had little extra use in the daily lives of the average person. “Wandless magic can be very dangerous,” Dumbledore said with a stern look.

“So can magic cast with a wand,” Harry countered with an amused little smile.

“So it can,” Dumbledore conceded with a slow nod. “Yet wandless magic is designed solely to be used in offensive situations, as you explained during your club meeting.”

“Minerva informed you well,” Harry said with a knowing glint in his eyes. Dumbledore merely smiled in return but didn’t confirm anything. Smart man. “I merely explained that being able to summon your wand back to you wandlessly during a duel might one day save your life.”

“I’m surprised you believe that any of these students will ever find themselves fighting in a duel to the death,” Dumbledore countered.

Harry widened his eyes. “And I’m surprised that you don’t believe that, Professor. We are at war, in case you’d forgotten. Both in the magical and the muggle world.”

“I had not forgotten, I assure you,” Dumbledore said with a bit of a frosty note to his voice. “I merely doubt that our students will find themselves in death defying situations anytime soon.”

Harry snorted. He couldn’t help it. He hated bringing it up again, but apparently Dumbledore was being rather forgetful. “I was assaulted in this very school, as were several other students, and our lives were threatened, I assure you.”

Dumbledore briefly closed his eyes, as though he’d completely forgotten about those incidents.

Harry barged on, eyes narrowed as he glared at Dumbledore. “If I had known how to cast a wandless stunner, for example, I could have stopped Mulciber from assaulting me in the first place.”

“Violence is rarely the answer,” Dumbledore finally pointed out, much to Harry’s utter disbelief.

Rising from his seat, Harry looked down at Dumbledore over his nose. “I will not sit here listening to an old man telling me someone shouldn’t fight back against an attacker while their life is on the line. In the future, if you have any concerns about my behaviour or my activities, I will only speak about them with Headmaster Dippet. If you insist on meeting with me anyway, I demand that Professor Driscoll be present as I no longer feel safe in your company. Good day.” And with that, Harry turned on his heels and stormed towards the door.

“Ms Hubble,” Dumbledore said quickly, also rising from his seat, eyes wide and his expression slightly puzzled as though he couldn’t imagine why Harry had reacted like he did.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Harry glared at Dumbledore over his shoulder. “Stop talking, Professor, before I file an official complaint about your conduct with the Board of Governors.” Pushing the door open, Harry walked through it without a backwards glance.

Fuck Dumbledore and every other man who ever thought that people shouldn’t learn to defend themselves against assailants who wished serious harm upon them. Fuck all of them. Harry made a silent vow right there and then that if Dumbledore somehow was able to convince Dippet to withdraw his official support from the DA, Harry would take the whole operation underground. He knew how to do it from his first life when Umbridge had made all their lives a living hell. Harry would gladly put the Room of Requirement to good use, have all the DA members sign a secrecy contract and communicate through fake galleons if that is what it took to teach these kids how to keep themselves safe.

As Harry neared the Great Hall, he inhaled a few deep breaths to calm himself down. There was no use in speculating about things that hadn’t even happened yet. Such negativity wasn’t a healthy way of looking at life, Harry was well aware of that.

Myrtle was still sitting at the Ravenclaw table and much to Harry’s surprise, Tom was sitting beside her. Both of them perked up when they saw Harry all but storming towards them, face set in a thundercloud.

“Myrtle was just telling me you’d been summoned to Dumbledore’s office,” Tom said with a bit of a knowing smirk. “Was it a productive meeting?”

“That utterly useless man!” Harry yelled with much too loud of a voice, causing students left and right to stop what they were doing and stare at him. “He told me how dangerous wandless magic is. At which point I reminded him that casting magic with a wand is just as dangerous and they all bloody well teach that as this fucking school.” Harry inhaled a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he glanced around. He spotted a few members of the DA nearby and gave them an intent look. “I swear I will teach you all wandless magic and I don’t care for one bloody second if Albus Dumbledore likes it or not. That man is so out of touch with reality it’s just plain embarrassing.”

A steaming cup of tea appeared in Harry’s line of sight and when he looked down in surprise, he saw Tom holding it out for him. “Have a cuppa,” Tom said, smile utterly amused. “I’m starting to genuinely worry about your blood pressure.”

“You’re teaching people wandless magic?” Orion Black asked from the Slytherin table, his eyes wide in shock.

“No!” Harry glared at the boy with Sirius’ face. “I mean, yes, I am teaching the DA that, but you are not welcome. Our club is full.” Which of course was a lie, but Harry was not going to spend any effort on teaching pureblood supremacists any kind of magic, ever.

Accepting the cup of tea, Harry sank down on the bench beside Tom and took a careful sip. He was far too riled up to think straight, but this kind of injustice had always rankled Harry. And now that it was coming from Dumbledore, it rankled even more. Dumbledore had no problem with secret student groups teaching each other defence as long as it suited him, that hypocritical bastard. Harry quickly sipped more tea because his blood pressure probably was sky high.

“How about we go to the library and look up spells for the next Defence class?” Myrtle suggested in an uncertain whisper.

Harry gave her a grateful smile. “That is an excellent idea. I’ll pop by the dormitory to pick up Mrs Ashford, and I’ll meet you there.” Harry quickly finished his tea and hurried off to Ravenclaw Tower.

When Harry walked into the library, he spotted his friends straight away at a table nearby. Myrtle, Tom, Annabel and Lukas were all sitting together, but there were two other students at their table Harry wasn’t expecting.

Both Orion Black and Theodorus Nott gave Harry a bright smile when Harry sat down beside Tom.

“Tom has been telling us such wonderful things about you, Miss Hubble,” Orion said with an utterly charming smile that made Harry’s throat close up because it made him look so much like Sirius.

Harry glanced to the side. Tom’s chagrined expression made it clear he’d done no such thing. Harry knew Tom was a very private person and he doubted very much Tom would ever open up like that about a new friend he’d made.

“Did you bring Mrs Ashford?” Tom asked, ignoring his Slytherin friends.

Harry decided to do the same. “I did, but she’s for my eyes only, Tom. You know why.”

“Certainly,” Tom agreed, looking like he planned to simply read over Harry’s shoulder anyway.

With a sigh, Harry pulled Mrs Ashford’s compendium from his bookbag and slammed it onto the table, startling everyone else.

“Any ideas for which books to use, Tom?” Theodorus asked as he gave Tom a hopeful look. Harry wondered if that was one of the reasons those purebloods had eventually decided to treat Tom mostly like an equal. Tom was a brilliant student and perhaps those purebloods thought he’d help them with their homework if they were friendly enough to him. Harry doubted very much Tom would ever have fallen for such an obvious scheme.

“Do your own homework, Dorus.” Tom indicated the stacks of books around them. “There’s plenty on household charms to find if you simply go looking.”

“Very well, if you insist,” Theodorus said with a tired sigh and pushed himself up from his seat as only a teenage boy can; like it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life but he was willing to do it because he had nothing better to do anyway.

Harry snorted at the dramatics of it all. Teenagers were just so ridiculous when you thought about it.

While Harry paged through Mrs Ashford to look for household charms he didn’t know yet but which could aid him in a duel, Tom scooted closer and closer, centimetre by centimetre, until he could glance over Harry’s protective arm and see what Mrs Ashford was revealing on her hallowed pages.

“Get your own fucking book, Riddle,” Harry muttered at some point, which only made Tom grin wider as if he loved nothing more than accepting Harry’s obvious challenge.

“How about beauty charms?” Annabel said after a while as she was paging through a few Charms books. “They could work in a duel, right?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said with a firm nod. “There are many beauty charms that make you feel like your skin is being peeled off. They’re great in a duel.”

“Really?” Lukas asked, a little doubtfully, while giving the book he was reading on cooking charms a considering look. “Beauty charms?”

“Oh yes,” Harry said gravely. One of his former Auror colleagues, Erika, had been absolutely lethal with overpowered hair removal charms. Harry had seen her take down a six and a half foot man the size of a overgrown gorilla by yanking out every single one of his beard hairs with one single charm. That man had to be admitted to St Mungo’s for a few days. Apparently he didn’t stop screaming from the pain for two hours before they doused him with Draught of Living Death to shut him up.

Harry knew that Charm as well, but it was a bit too much to use in a friendly duel between students in their Defence class. But Harry always kept that charm in the back of his mind and he was not afraid to use it on someone’s groin when the occasion called for it.

“Beauty charms. Huh.” Orion narrowed his eyes and all but flew up from his chair and disappeared into the stacks. Soon he could be heard whispering with Theodorus.

Harry found a few interesting spells in Mrs Ashford’s book and he wrote them down, angling his body in such a way Tom couldn’t see what it was. But since Tom kept scribbling things down himself he was still able to get plenty of inspiration of the pages of Mrs Ashford that he could see.

Eventually they moved on to finishing their homework. Harry had a Transfiguration essay to finish, since it had been a rather hectic week and he refused to get a bad mark in Dumbledore’s class. He did not want that man to have the pleasure. Right before they all got up to go to dinner, Tom leaned closer to Harry and whispered, “I’ll see you tonight at eight for our patrol.”

Right. That was a thing. Patrolling Hogwarts with Tom. Harry blinked a few times and then shrugged. As a Prefect it was expected that Harry help keep Hogwarts from being overrun by horny teenagers who tried shagging in every dark corner they could find. That was pretty much what Hermione always had to deal with during her patrols. Well, for the most part.

After dinner Harry decided to take a quick shower and then consulted Mrs Ashford on some beauty charms. Harriet hadn’t spent much attention on her appearance, too shy to draw more attention to herself. But Harry thought that trying out some charms now might help him come across some that would prove useful in a duel. And practicing magic, any kind of magic, was never a bad thing.

Harry found a charm that dried your hair without turning it into a frizzy mess. Then he found another charm that curled your hair loosely. Harriet had slightly curling hair, but it was more of a chaotic mess than anything resembling a deliberate look. So Harry tried the loose curls and decided he liked them. Then there was a charm that evened out one’s skin and complexion, giving it a healthy shine. Another charm gave the lips a natural rosy hue, and one more did the same to your cheeks. Harry then cast a charm that darkened and filled out his eyelashes and finally one that added the slightest of metallic sheens to his eyelids.

There were also perfume charms as Harry learned, which lasted only a few hours, but which gave the wearer an enchanting scent for a short time. Harry tried one but wasn’t sure if she could smell anything.

“Myrtle!” Harry called in the direction of the dormitory. “Myrtle, come smell me!”

“Oh wow,” Myrtle said while she stared at Harry, who stood in front of one of the mirrors in his white bathrobe. “You look great!”

“Thanks, but I need to know if I smell great as well. Come here.” Dutifully, Myrtle leaned closer and inhaled through her nose and then drew back to give Harry a bright smile.

“That is fantastic, what is that? Very subtle, but really good,” Myrtle rambled.

“It’s a charm. Want me to do you?” Harry aimed his wand at Myrtle and when she nodded, Harry cast the perfume charm on his friend.

“What other charms did you use on yourself?” Myrtle pulled out her wand and summoned quill and paper from the dormitory while Harry pointed out what he’d used. “I’m going to practice those as well. You look so natural yet very beautiful. Especially the hair looks amazing.”

Harry beamed at her and then checked his face in the mirror again. Harriet always kept her hair in a braid, and Harry had done the same, but the loose curls really did make him look mature and even rather glamorous. “Yeah, not bad at all. Mrs Ashford strikes again!”

After that Harry got dressed in his usual school uniform and he made his way to the common room, where several students almost certainly got a crick in the neck from suddenly whipping their heads around to look at Harry. Rolling his eyes, Harry marched straight ahead and through the door where Tom already stood waiting for him.

“Hi!” Harry said happily. Tom seemed at a loss for words for some reason while he kept blinking as he stared at Harry’s face. “Shall we patrol?”

“Yes. Let’s. We’re patrolling the sixth and seventh floor tonight.” Tom gestured at Harry to fall into step with him. Tom had to adjust his steps significantly, because he was so tall and Harry wasn’t, but they managed to walk together just fine through the mostly empty hallways. Curfew was coming up and most students were making their way back to their common rooms anyway.

“Orion and Dorus kept insisting I speak with you so they’d be able to join the DA as well,” Tom said while they slowly climbed the stairs to the seventh floor. “The knowledge that you can teach wandless magic has certainly changed their minds about you.”

“You mean they’re willing to tolerate a little mudblood if they can benefit from it?” Harry translated Tom’s Slytherin speak effortlessly.

“Just so.” Tom couldn’t hold back a grin as he glanced down at Harry with warm eyes. “I shall let them know the DA is not accepting new members at this time, shall I?”

“Good lad,” Harry said with a firm nod. “If the rumours are correct, both the Black and Nott families have extensive family libraries, amongst the finest in the land. If they want to learn something, they have the resources to bloody well look it up themselves. We are not so lucky.”

“The Potters have quite a nice library as well, I’m sure,” Tom said in a reasonable tone while they reached the seventh floor and took a right turn.

“They do. I’ve glimpsed it when they invited us over for dinner at their mansion.” Harry shrugged and brushed some hair out of his face. The curls looked amazing but having all that hair hanging around his face took some getting used to for sure. “But I don’t live there and I can’t just pop in every time it suits me to use their library.”

“Understood. Newt has a small library almost completely dedicated to magical creatures.”

“Naturally,” Harry said with a chuckle.

“Though he has a fairly extensive charms section as well,” Tom added quickly. “He likes to create habitats for his creatures using undetectable extension charms. That’s how he transports them.”

“Yeah, I loved reading your letters about your travels. I’ve never been to Africa but you made it come alive on the page.” Harry suddenly got a brilliant idea. “Tom, I’m going to ask you to do a funny thing, but will you do it?”

“That depends,” Tom said at once. Harry grabbed his wrist and dragged him along to the hideous tapestry opposite the Room of Requirement.

“Okay.” Harry stopped Tom and gently manoeuvred him in place. “I want you to walk back and forth three times while thinking about your travels through the African savannah.”

“Sure.” Tom gave her a very dubious look, as though he expected Harry to spring some prank on him at any moment. But he was still willing enough to walk back and forth and before long a door appeared. Tom gave it an entirely suspicious look while Harry bounced on his feet.

“Open it, and you’ll be able to show me Africa, I promise!”

Tom very slowly and very carefully pushed the door open and then let out a loud gasp. A rush of hot air greeted them both while bright sunlight almost blinded them as they stepped out of the dimly lit hallway into the wilds of Tanganyika.

“How is this possible?” Tom gaped at their surroundings. The acacia trees swayed a bit in the gentle wind, the dry grass crunched beneath their shoes and in the distance the mountains stood tall.

“Tom, welcome to the Room of Requirement.” Harry beamed at him before looking around at the amazing landscape.

“The Room of Requirement?” Tom still looked as though Harry was pulling his leg yet he couldn’t deny what he was seeing. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Few people have.” Harry shrugged and then walked a little further into the African savannah. “I just happened to talk to a house-elf that knew of it and shared the secret with me.” Harry gave Tom a bright smile. “And now I’ve shared it with you.”

“How does it work?”

“You pace in front of it, thinking about what you need the room to be. That’s all I know.” Harry walked a little further still. “I haven’t had the opportunity yet to study how the magic of the room works, but it’s bound to be interesting.”

“Does it have to be a real place, what you think of?” Tom asked as he hurried to catch up with Harry.

“Nah. You can think of a swimming pool if you fancy a dip, or you can think of a comfortable sitting room if you need a moment to relax. The room will provide.”

“This is truly amazing. It looks and feels exactly like Africa.” Tom looked very impressed as he turned around on the spot and stared at the landscape.

“It’s based on your memories, so of course it looks real.” Harry considered their surroundings for a moment. “It can’t create living things, though, so I’ll simply have to imagine the animals.”

“Or you could join me on my next expedition and you’ll see the animals for yourself,” Tom suggested as he stepped closer to Harry.

Laughing, Harry shook his head. “That’s very kind of you to invite me. But we’ve only been at school for a week, Tom. You have no idea what’s going to happen. You might end up despising me before he year is over.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Tom said, suddenly sounding utterly serious. “But let’s rephrase it then. Should we still be friends by the end of this schoolyear, then I invite you to come with me to Africa.”

“Very well. Thank you for the invitation.” Harry couldn’t help the large swell of warmth that coursed through him. “If my parents allow it, I’ll happily join you.”

“You cannot take that back,” Tom said quickly, as if suddenly terrified Harry would one day change his mind. “You’ve made that promise now.”

“I won’t,” Harry said with a kind of finality that surprised himself. Thing was, Harry knew Tom better than himself. Knew exactly who Tom was at his best and more importantly, at his worst. And the Tom Harry was getting to know now was a Tom he’d happily call a friend for a very long time. “We should probably head back to patrol before people realize we’re not where we’re supposed to be.”

“How many people know of this room?” Tom gave one, longing look over his shoulder before he stepped through the door back into the 7th floor hallway.

“I’m not sure,” Harry answered honestly. “Not many students I don’t think.”

“Let’s keep it like that.” Tom leaned a little closer. “Let’s keep it our little secret.”

“Sure.” For now, Harry added silently. If he ever needed a space to hold the DA in, especially if they needed to move underground, Harry was using the Room of Requirement. But for that moment he had no desires to share it with anyone else. Sharing it with Tom had been a bit of an impulsive decision but Harry didn’t regret it one bit. Seeing Africa through Tom’s eyes had been worth it.

They chatted about their Ancient Runes project while they continued their patrol. They found one pair of 4th year Gryffindors snogging behind a tapestry but that was the most exciting thing that happened for the rest of the evening.

“Goodnight,” Harry said with a little wave. Tom had walked him back to Ravenclaw Tower. Harry stepped up to the doorknocker and then realized he was in a bit of a pickle. Normally, Harry had taken to hissing at that bloody thing in parseltongue but he didn’t want to share that secret with Tom just yet. So solving the fucking riddle it was.

“What can’t talk but will reply when spoken to?” the doorknocker asked.

“I hate you so fucking much,” Harry grumbled through gritted teeth, glaring at the bane of his existence as a Ravenclaw.

“An echo,” Tom called out, trying very obviously not to laugh.

“That is correct!” The doorknocker opened the door, that fucking useless thing.

“Goodnight, Harriet.” Tom didn’t even attempt to hide his laughter as he walked away.

“So how was your date with Tom?” Myrtle all but pounced on Harry the second he stepped into the dormitory. The curtains on the beds of their roommates were all drawn, so they were already in bed.

“It was not a date,” Harry said quickly, waving Myrtle away. “We had Prefect Patrol. It was fine. We talked about our Runes project for the most part.”

Myrtle sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed with a starry look upon her face, already wearing a nightgown. “That’s so nice. Spending time together while talking about the other times you’ll be spending time together.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Harry shook his head and made his way to the bathroom. “I’m heading to bed. Night.”

Harry was tired enough to fall asleep almost immediately. His dreams took him to Africa that night, to see the lions and elephants and rhinos. Tom was there, of course, talking about all the creatures in great detail. And then Tom was there with Harry in the Room of Requirement as well, except they were no longer in Africa, but in a comfortable room with a blazing fireplace and a large, four poster bed, and Tom was naked and so was Harry.

Tom lowered Harry onto the bed and slid between her legs before thrusting inside Harry’s body, and he kept thrusting and thrusting, dark eyes boring down into Harry’s until an orgasm woke Harry right up.

“What the fuck,” Harry muttered while his body was still throbbing with a recent release.

Did girls get wet dreams? Was that a thing? As a teenager just starting puberty Harry had frequently woken up with messy briefs after some interesting sex dreams, but he’d had a boy’s body then. He just hadn’t realized girls got wet dreams, too. Well, perhaps not wet.

Harry reached a hand inside his knickers. Ah. Yeah. No. That was plenty wet.

So girls got wet dreams with orgasms strong enough to wake them up. Harry stared into the darkness and felt a bit miffed that Tom bloody Riddle had, however unknowingly, given Harry his first orgasm in his new body.

Arrogant bastard had to just make Harry feel really good, even in his dreams.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Sunday morning breakfast was usually a slow affair as students slept late and trickled in throughout the morning. Harry was quite early, though, having been unable to go back to sleep after his disturbing dream starring a very naked and erect Tom Riddle.

Mind you, Harry was no blushing virgin. He’d had plenty of sex throughout his life, mostly with women but also with a couple of guys and he absolutely enjoyed fucking both. It was the fact that Harry’s brain somehow thought it was a good idea to give Tom Marvolo Riddle a starring role in Harry’s deepest, darkest sex fantasies in this brand new body that was a bit of a problem. Yes, Harry liked Tom nowadays, could even tentatively call him a friend, but that didn’t mean that Harry had so easily forgotten about everything Voldemort had ever done to him in his previous life.

The murder of his parents and others he’d known and cared about wasn’t so easily dismissed.

Because of the early hour, Harry had hoped that Tom wouldn’t be in the Great Hall yet, but there he was, seated at the Slytherin table, looking awake and more than happy to see Harry if his growing smile was any indication.

Sighing, Harry sat down at the Ravenclaw table and reached for some toast. He didn’t have much of an appetite that morning, so he figured that some toast with jam would be more than enough. Harry sipped his tea and munched on his toast and stared off into the distance, his mind in complete turmoil because of one stupid, sexy dream.

“We can go to the library,” Tom said as he appeared behind Harry, giving him a hopeful look. “Look up some more charms for Defence this Tuesday.”

“Tom,” Harry said in a quiet voice as he turned in his seat to look up at Tom. “Don’t take this personally, but I need a morning to myself.”

Tom blinked, obviously surprised but trying to hide it. “Of course,” he said quickly, his eyebrows drawing down in confusion. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s not you,” Harry assured him at once, and it wasn’t Tom’s fault, not really. A lot had happened in a very short period of time and Harry could do with a few hours to himself. He wasn’t used to life at a boarding school anymore where you were constantly surrounded by people and hardly ever had a moment to yourself. “I just need a few hours to clear my mind. Too much has happened these past few weeks.”

Nodding, Tom took a step backwards. “That’s understandable. I shall see you at lunch then?”

“Sure, and afterwards I wouldn’t mind going to the library,” Harry said and then noticed two people entering the Great Hall sporting bright green heads. He gestured at Tom to look behind himself.

Abraxas Malfoy and Maximus Lestrange marched straight up to Tom, eyes blazing while the students around them gasped and giggled. “How dare you,” Abraxas all but hissed as he reached Tom, who gave him an entirely unimpressed look in return.

“I merely added a few creative touches to my wards,” Tom said in a completely unconcerned tone, even giving a bit of a shrug.

“Fix this, or you’ll regret it,” Maximus insisted, getting right up into Tom’s personal space.

“I truly don’t know how,” Tom said, barely able to hold back a grin. “But I’m sure it will wear off in time.”

“Sure,” Harry said, slowly getting up from the bench. “Give it a few days and you’ll be good as new.”

“Nobody asked you, you little mudblood,” Abraxas snapped, glaring at Harry with flinty eyes.

Harry quickly waved his hand, released a bunch of magic and sent Abraxas flying three feet back where he landed on his arse. “See you at lunch,” Harry said cheerfully as he gave Tom one last smile. Harry wasn’t worried about Tom being confronted by Malfoy and Lestrange like that. If anything, it was Malfoy and Lestrange who were in far more danger than Tom was, Harry was sure. Tom may be quite the nice chap these days, but Harry was certain that Tom knew plenty of nasty curses to keep his fellow Slytherins in line and wasn’t afraid to use them if he needed to.

The air was a bit crisp but it wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest. In fact, as Harry inhaled deeply a few times while he crossed the wide lawn in the direction of the lake, it was exactly what he needed to clear his head. Harry opted for a nice, long walk along the Forbidden Forest and around the whole lake. He’d learned during Auror training that physical exercise was a great way to lower your anxiety and help you think clearly.

It had just been a silly wet dream, brought on by the raging hormones of his new adolescent body, Harry told himself. So why the hell did it upset him that much?

Tom Riddle had always been a handsome devil, even Harry at twelve years old had noticed that much when he’d first met diary Tom. So it wasn’t all that strange that Harry’s mind latched onto such a desirable person that Harry spent quite a bit of time with during his waking hours.

Hell, Harry remembered that during his first life he’d had plenty of wet dreams about all sorts of people who he wouldn’t necessarily want to date. These included Hermione, Fleur and Tonks. And one time, Draco Malfoy, but that had been during sixth year and in hindsight, Harry knew he had been a little bit too obsessed with Malfoy during that year.

So yeah, Harry was well aware that the mind could play weird tricks on the adolescent body and that those kind of dreams didn’t necessarily mean anything important. But then why did dreaming about Tom make Harry so uncomfortable?

Harry slowed his pace a little as he realized there was a difference between Harry then and Harry now.

Harry was a woman.

Yeah, yeah, Harry still thought of himself as a man, and probably always would, but Harry’s body was that of a young woman. There was no denying that. And Harriet had been terribly hurt by a man in that very same body Harry was now using. Harry had the memories, and while they felt distant and not quite like his own memories, they must be influencing Harry in some ways. How could they not?

Then there was the fact that Tom, in their previous life, had hurt Harry. In so many fucking ways that Harry wasn’t even sure he could remember every single one of them. Tom had murdered his parents, tried to murder him, turned Harry into a horcrux, gave him years of splitting headaches, ruined his adolescence, murdered a classmate in front of him, cast the cruciatus on him, and the killing curse, and made it so Harry at seventeen had no choice but to commit suicide by Dark Lord.

Holy crap, when looking at it like that, it was no wonder that Harry was a little apprehensive about any attraction he might feel towards Tom Riddle now.

But was that fair? Was using all those horrible things that happened between them in Harry’s previous life, and that Tom had no knowledge of, against Tom in this life fair at all?

No, it wasn’t, Harry knew that much.

Perhaps it was time that Harry truly stopped looking at Tom the enthusiastic schoolboy, who followed him around like a lovesick puppy, as a future Dark Lord who was going to give Harry nothing but pain.

Wait, what? Harry stopped walking and stared out over the calm lake in shock.

Tom Riddle acted like a lovesick puppy around him. Holy fuck, why had Harry not seen this before? Yeah, Harry could be a bit slow about these things, but Tom had not exactly been subtle, now had he? And it had still taken Harry a ridiculous amount of time to realize what was really going on.

Burying his face in both hands, Harry shook his head. Tom had a crush on him, at the very least. When had that even happened? And why?

Harry had no clue, but he did realize, much to his own quiet horror, that he didn’t even mind that idea so much, which what the fuck? Harry was an adult, well, partially. Harriet Hubble would turn sixteen on November 15th, which made her a month and a half older than Tom Riddle, actually. But Harry, in his previous life, had only ever been attracted to kids around 15 or 16 when he himself was that age.

Which he currently was, a small voice in his mind reminded him. Harry, for all intents and purposes, at that moment was 15 going on 16, which made it perfectly normal for him to have wet dreams about kids his own age, and even feeling somewhat flattered that the most handsome kid in school seemed to have a crush on him.

Fucking hell, this whole being reborn thing was so much more complicated than Harry had first thought it would be when he woke up in Harriet’s body.

Throwing his head back to stare up at the blue sky in mild despair, Harry crossed his arms and was once again reminded he now occupied a female body as his boobs pressed down on his forearms. Perhaps he should work on that as well. Accepting his female body a bit better. Until that point, Harry had accepted his new body in theory, but in practice he didn’t pay all that much attention to it, aside from the necessary things he couldn’t ignore.

That was a lot to suddenly accept, Harry realized as he resumed his walk. Accepting Tom Riddle for who he was now and not for who he once was in a life that didn’t even exist anymore. Accepting Tom’s crush on him and figuring out what to do with that. And paying a bit more attention to his new body, instead of mostly ignoring it.

An hour later Harry entered the castle again and made his way to Ravenclaw Tower. Thankfully his roommates were nowhere to be seen, which gave Harry all the privacy he needed for what he wanted to do. Which was to get in touch with his own body. Harry cast a locking charm on the bathroom door, conjured a life-sized mirror that he stood up against the wall and then undressed himself. Up until that point, Harry had avoided looking at most of his reflection except for his new face most of the time. But perhaps it was time that Harry took a good look at his new body, to help him start thinking of it as his own instead of as Harriet’s.

Because that was something that Harry still did most of the time, whenever he was confronted with his own boobs or his own cunt. They were never his, but always Harriet’s.

Not anymore.

Harry placed his hands on his boobs while he stared at himself in the mirror. That felt pretty good, to be honest. Harry pinched his nipples, but that was a bit too much and he winced. Then he caressed his nipples, and yeah, that was nice. Very nice. Then Harry moved his hands across his tummy towards his thighs and he gave them a bit of a massage before moving towards his private parts. He tried spreading his lips but standing up like that he couldn’t really see anything down there.

With a wave of his wand, Harry vanished the mirror and checked with a charm to see if there was anyone in the dormitory. There wasn’t, and Harry picked up his discarded clothes and hurried butt naked to his own bed. He closed and warded the curtains and sat back against his pillows. Then he conjured a hand mirror and spread his legs, holding the mirror at an angle that gave him a perfect view of his own privates.

Now Harry had seen his fair share of cunts and in his honest opinion his own cunt was quite a pretty one. Nice and delicate lips, a pert little clit, all framed by dark curls. Harry slid his middle finger inside his vagina but that felt mostly dry and didn’t really do anything for him. Then he ran his fingers over his clit a few times as he examined his lips and oh fuck yeah, that’s where it was at.

Harry made himself a little more comfortable and while keeping a close eye on the mirror, Harry started masturbating for real, finding a delightful rhythm as he moved his middle finger around and over his clit in tight little circles. Before long, Harry couldn’t keep his eyes open as his breathing picked up and his pleasure started to build. Fuck, but his body was responsive as hell and Harry’s orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave and it went on and on and on until his pleasure finally ebbed away, leaving him out of breath with a throbbing cunt. Harry stuck his middle finger inside his vagina again, finding it sopping wet and feeling a whole lot better than it had before.

While he’d been masturbating, Harry hadn’t really thought about anything in particular, but now he couldn’t stop remembering that dream. The image of Tom leaning over him, naked and hard, before sliding his cock inside Harry’s body, did things to Harry’s privates, which if anything started throbbing harder.

Harry quickly conjured a simple dildo which he carefully slid inside and then moved it in and out of his body with a few gestures of his left hand while he brought his right hand up to play with his clit again.

Oh fuck yeah! This was fucking amazing. The feeling of something thick and hard moving inside his vagina was fucking mind-blowing in combination with the pleasure building behind his clit.

Holy crap, but Harry seriously needed to get laid in his new body! Just imagining a real cock fucking him sent Harry straight over the edge, his orgasm much more intense now that his vagina was being stimulated as well.

Yeah, so while Harry would probably always miss his dick on some level, he now knew that fucking while in a female body was not going to be a problem for him. At all. In fact, the sooner the better as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry remained in his bed, examining his cunt in the mirror some more, loving how the dildo looked fucking him slow and fucking him hard. Harry was also amazed how wet he got. Like sopping wet, and those slick sounds only added to his arousal. Harry came two more times and by then his entire cunt felt raw and far too sensitive to the touch so Harry vanished the dildo and lay back with a disappointed sigh.

So, it appeared that he had found a new hobby. A way to keep himself entertained at the very least. Because Harry knew without a doubt that he’d be fucking himself every single day from then on, if he could get away with it. And Harry was also suddenly far more interested in the fact that Tom had a crush on him and would probably at some point like to fuck Harry, and after all the amazing pleasure Harry had just experienced, he was pretty fucking sure he’d let Tom do so in a heartbeat.

For some reason, Harry’s mind conjured up a vision of Tom lying between Harry’s legs with his face buried in Harry’s cunt, tongue lapping diligently at Harry’s clit.

Fucking hell, Harry’s body started throbbing again, but Harry rolled over with a groan. No, no more. His clit hurt. He was done for now. But perhaps that night, before going to sleep, Harry could conjure up that vision again and have a little fun with it.

Harry cleaned himself up with a couple of charms and got dressed again. Thankfully there still wasn’t anyone in the dormitory and Harry made his way down to the Great Hall while his body felt pleasantly sore and Harry himself was a whole lot more relaxed.

“Tom said you went to take a walk,” Myrtle said with an inquisitive look as Harry gingerly sat down beside her. His body really felt raw down there. “Did if help? Feel more relaxed?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said with a satisfied grin. “I haven’t been this relaxed in a very long time.”

Tom sat down at the Slytherin table and quirked an eyebrow at Harry, who managed to keep a mostly straight face even though his brain was now coming up with all sorts of filthy scenarios featuring them both in the Room of Requirement. It was like the hormonal floodgates had opened now that Harry finally allowed himself to think such thoughts about Tom. And about himself in the first place, because up until that morning Harry had studiously ignored any thoughts about sex in the first place.

“Did you get hurt?” Tom asked with a worried little frown as he fell into step with Harry on their way to the library after lunch. “You’re walking a bit funny.”

It took Harry almost all his strength not to blush so hard his cheeks might actually catch fire. “Just slipped. Might have strained something. Nothing serious.”

“Good,” Tom said, giving Harry a sappy little smile and how the fuck had Harry not noticed those kind of looks before. Tom had been giving Harry them since the start of Hogwarts, Harry realized that now. “You look a lot less stressed than this morning, at least.”

“Hm.” Harry said, his stupid mind going back to the image of Tom licking his clit. “I really needed the… exercise as it turns out. I’m much better now.”

“I can tell,” Tom said with a chuckle. “You’re practically glowing.”

“The wind was…er…pretty intense,” Harry muttered, quickly looking away. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about sex? Was this even a thing girls did? Think about sex that often? Or at all? Or was this because Harry had been a man once upon a time, that his brain now fixated on fucking as much as it did.

Did Tom think the same things about Harry? Was Tom at that moment thinking about Harry’s mouth around his cock?

Harry briefly squeezed his eyes shut to try to clear his stupid mind but it didn’t work until he slammed his Occlumency shields up with all the strength he had left. My god, those teenage hormones were really, truly overwhelming at times, and Harry had completely forgotten how bad it could be. And apparently they were just as overwhelming for girls as they were for boys.

Once in the library, Harry sat down and then considered what to even do. He’d finished his homework and he had plenty of charms memorized he could use in their upcoming duel in Defence. Tom gave him a curious look but Harry ignored him and pulled out Mrs Ashford from his bag, since he was always able to find some kind of interesting magic to read about inside her depths. Tom opened a book of his own, while Myrtle sat down opposite them and waved Annabel over, who was by herself for once.

“Lukas is flying, preparing to try out for the Quidditch team next week,” Annabel said as she got out a few books of her own. Harry nodded in understanding, a small part of him envious that Lukas got to try out for Quidditch. But Harriet had never shown any interest in Quidditch in the first place, nor any particular talent on a broom. And Harry had already changed so much about Harriet and her previous life that suddenly becoming a star Quidditch player was really pushing it.

Besides, Harry now had found a different physical outlet for his excess energy. And holy fuck, he really needed to stop thinking about sex for one fucking minute.

Harry opened Mrs Ashford and mindlessly paged through the book until he ended up in the personal charms section. He read up on a few more cosmetics charms, since he’d enjoyed using some the previous evening, and he looked up a few more hairstyling charms so he might try a few more things with his long hair. And then he came across the section about contraceptives and his heart missed a couple of beats.

He could get pregnant.

His current body could actually get pregnant.

Harry’s eyes widened in acute alarm as he stared down at the pages in front of him. Mrs Ashford recommended always using two different forms of contraceptives to be completely safe. A potion and a charm. Which is what Harry had always done in his previous life, especially after a few witches had tried to baby trap him by cancelling contraceptive charms mid-fuck.

But now things were even worse. Because now Harry’s body could actually become pregnant. Yeah, Harry knew a potion to take after having unprotected sex, so he wasn’t without resourses, but what if he didn’t notice he was pregnant in time to take the potion? Harry shuddered. He’d never been interested in having children in his previous life, knowing he was far too messed up to properly raise them. Hell, he couldn’t even make a single romantic relationship work. What the hell was he going to do with a child?

Harry vowed right there and then to start brewing the contraceptive potion as soon as possible and to take it every month from that moment on, no matter if he was actually having sex or not. And when he did finally fuck Tom, he’d use an additional contraceptive charm just to be sure.

Heaving a deep sigh, Harry read on and found himself in a section about lubrication charms, which he doubted he needed anytime soon, since his body seemed to be able to get very, very wet just fine on its own. The next section contained ‘personal relaxation charms’, which Harry had never heard of. That was until he read on and realized they were charms to use during masturbation and Harry immediately memorized the page number so he could put those charms to good use later that night in bed.

It was at this point that Harry noticed Tom sitting very close. Glancing up, Harry saw that Tom was once again reading over Harry’s arm, which Harry had wrapped around his book protectively.

Tom’s expression was an interesting combination of wide, slightly shocked eyes and a terribly smug little smirk.

“Get your own book!” Harry snarled, cheeks heating rapidly as he yanked Mrs Ashford away from Tom with far too much force, sliding her off the table entirely. “Fuck!” Harry jumped up and quickly snatched Mrs Ashford up from the floor, slamming the book shut before the entire fucking library would notice he was reading about masturbatory charms. The fact that Tom knew was bad enough, that fucking dildo.

Tom cleared his throat as Harry slid back into her seat. “I’m not entirely sure how one would use those kind of charms during a duel,” Tom mumbled, obviously trying very hard not to grin as he ducked his head and glanced at Harry sideways. “As a distraction perhaps? Though I’m sure Merrythought would have a thing or two to say about you jerking your opponent off during a duel in class.” And at that point, Tom could no longer control his adolescent sense of humour and leaned his forehead on the table while his shoulder shook with laughter.

Sighing, Harry bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling. Myrtle and Annabel exchanged a wide-eyed look that said a thousand things about both Harry and Tom and none of them were probably correct.

The worst thing of all was that a small voice in Harry’s mind was cheering these recent developments on because they gave Harry a perfect excuse to talk to Tom about sex, which in turn might lead to them actually having sex. Harry silenced that voice as best as he could. Even he, horny as he suddenly found himself, understood that was moving far too fast for anyone’s well-being.

Thankfully, Tom recovered from his childish reactions and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon reading about cooking charms, just to make sure Tom wouldn’t be able to see anything inappropriate anymore.

Right after dinner, Harry excused himself to Myrtle and then spent an hour in the Room of Requirement brewing a few doses of the contraceptive potion, which he stored away carefully. He’d take the first potion at the start of his next period and then he’d have one layer of protection firmly in place. As Harry tucked his potions supplies away again his thoughts changed, transforming once again in images of Tom naked and hard and lowering Harry onto a large bed, ready to fuck him into oblivion.

Concentrating for a moment, Harry changed the room from a small potions lab into an opulent bedroom with a huge four poster bed. Harry refused to feel embarrassed about wanting to explore his own body. He’d not done so in months and now he finally felt comfortable enough with himself that he was ready to see what his own body could do.

There was nothing wrong with that.

Harry undressed and crawled on top of the bed and summoned his bag. He pulled out Mrs Ashford and found the right page in moments.

One personal relaxation charm promised soft yet firm strokes in just the right places. Harry lay back and cast the charm and immediately released a shriek at the unexpected sensation. It felt as though someone moved a warm, wet sponge up and down right over his clit. It was an amazing feeling and Harry quickly conjured a dildo and slowly worked it inside his body while he enjoyed the new sensations on his clit. He had to recast the charm a few more times until he finally screamed out in sheer delight as his body climaxed harder than it had done before.

Harry lay panting, body covered in sweat, and wondered if he’d ever be able to be productive again in his life because he was sure that from that moment on all he’d be able to think about was doing more of what he’d just done.

It had not been this bad when he’d been fifteen in his first life, Harry told himself. Then he remembered how often he’d wanked when he was thirteen and fourteen and fifteen. In bed before going to sleep, in bed before getting up, in the shower, even in the toilet during breaks sometimes. The only reason Harry hadn’t gotten more creative with magic back then to help him get off was because he hadn’t realized one could use magic for such a purpose. That wasn’t something he’d learned until he’d started fucking Ginny and she had told him about it. They’d experimented with sex magic quite a few times during their relationship. So it made sense that Harry was now far more comfortable with using magic while getting off.

Closing his eyes as he relaxed completely, Harry trailed his hands across his breasts, dildo still buried deep inside of him. His thoughts went back to Tom almost immediately, and Harry imagined Tom lying in bed in the Slytherin dormitories, thinking about Harry. Tom might push his blankets away, pull his hard cock out of his pyjama pants and give it a few slow strokes while he imagined thrusting his cock inside Harry’s wet cunt.

Oh yeah, Harry’s body started throbbing much more vigorously again and Harry was ready for round two. He used the charm again to stimulate his clit while he fucked himself harder and harder with the dildo, amazed at the full body shivers and tingles that produced. His entire body felt ready to erupt when he finally came to thoughts of Tom urging Harry onto his hands and knees and fucking him relentlessly from behind.

As he came down from his climax, his body twitching and shivering with retreating pleasure, Harry wondered why he kept thinking about Tom. There were other handsome blokes in the school. Not to mention plenty of beautiful girls Harry wouldn’t mind eating out. In his previous life Harry had no problems using anyone and everyone in his private fantasies over the years.

Yet whenever Harry imagined having sex with anyone else now, all he thought about was Tom. There was no one else who came even close to Tom’s desirability.

Harry sat up at once, eyes wide as he realized why he only thought about Tom Riddle when it came to having sex.

Fucking hell. It seemed Tom was not the only one with a serious crush.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Monday morning found Harry utterly and completely confused. He’d woken up with a scream after a most disturbing dream. Harry found himself in the graveyard where Lord Voldemort stood freshly resurrected. Voldemort announced to all his Death Eaters that he would marry Harry at once and they’d consummate their marriage right there in the graveyard with Cedric’s dead body lying not ten feet away. Voldemort had approached Harry with a sharp smile, red eyes blazing and Harry found himself suddenly naked and in Harriet’s body which was throbbing with desire.

That’s when Harry had mercifully startled awake and had immediately vowed to himself he’d never spend another Sunday masturbating to excess if that sort of horrific dreams were the unwelcome result.

Not for the first time Harry wondered why he couldn’t have reincarnated into the body of a fucking adult instead of that one of a teenager in the hormonal midst of discovering their wants and desires. Then again, if Harry had been reincarnated as an adult he wasn’t sure what he would have done with his new life. While walking towards breakfast Harry contemplated his hypothetical choices. Imagine if he’d been a recently graduated Hogwarts student, or perhaps someone in their twenties with some boring Ministry job. Harry might still have emptied the Room of Requirement and done away with the basilisk to fill his Gringotts vault. And he might still have started passing off future potions recipes as his own.

And then what?

Then he’d be a very wealthy and very lonely young person stuck in the past because making friends was a hell of a lot easier when you were still in school than as an adult.

No, if Harry was totally honest with himself he had to admit that reincarnating into a teenage body had probably been the better of any possible scenarios. Even if it meant going through puberty again, which sucked much more than Harry remembered it sucking in his first life. Perhaps he was simply an adult looking back at his own adolescence with rose-tinted glasses instead of remembering all the awkwardness and horniness and anxiety that had plagued him growing up the first time.

Harry knew one thing, though. He never had a ridiculous crush on his enemy the first time around.

Yes, yes, Harry knew the new and improved Tom Riddle was no longer his enemy as he’d once been and probably, hopefully, would never turn into one in the first place. But as Harry’s dreams had proven there was still a lot of trauma hiding away in Harry’s subconscious when it came to Tom Riddle’s murderous alter-ego. Which is what led Harry to feeling so utterly confused in the first place.

Harry’s brand-new body was ready for Tom in every sexual way possible, as his many orgasms the previous day had proven. But Harry’s mind was lagging behind, apparently, especially now that Harry had discovered he actually liked Tom a bit too much.

Harry had never, ever expected actual feelings to happen. Even if it was only a silly little teenage crush.

Ugh. Harry’s mind wouldn’t stop spinning with doubts and worries and lots and lots of bouts of sheer, dumb lust. One thing was for sure, though. Harry was going to limit himself to masturbating once a day. In the evening in bed, right before going to sleep. To help him relax at the end of his busy, stressful days. But no more than that because apparently a woman’s body was prone to developing feelings when sexually stimulated a little bit too much.

At least that is what Harry told himself.

Tom was already seated at the Slytherin table and he gave Harry a small but bright smile. Harry stared at him blankly in return, desperate to keep any and all discoveries he’d made the last 24 hours about himself and about Tom an absolute secret. Tom was a genius when it came to reading people, Harry was well aware of that. Tom was a genius about most things, but especially about figuring people out in ways he could use to his own advantage.

Apparently, Harry’s mask of indifference didn’t do a very good job of hiding all the things Harry wanted to keep to himself because Tom’s gaze narrowed while his smile slowly morphed into a knowing little smirk.

Closing his eyes, Harry shook his head as he sank down on the bench at the Ravenclaw table. Here he was, the Boy Who Lived to become a teenage girl lusting after Tom fucking Riddle with a vengeance. How had this whole mess become his life, seriously?

Myrtle had picked up on Harry’s strange mood and left him alone, which Harry wasn’t sure was a good thing or not. Thankfully the morning post proved a distraction. Harry received a short letter from Ruby Baird with a reasonable list of questions concerning the whole Mulciber fiasco and the assurance from Ruby that Harry could answer as few or as many questions as he liked. Harry tucked the letter away to answer later that day.

They had double Transfiguration first thing, which allowed Harry to zone out for most of the class because he already knew everything Dumbledore lectured them about the first hour. The rest of the time they spent vanishing old socks and frayed Hogwarts ties which didn’t provide Harry with much of any real distraction either.

After lunch they had double Ancient Runes, much to Harry’s despair. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with Tom so close beside him for two hours now that his body seemed determined to reach hitherto unknown levels of arousal just at the thought of that man.

Tom looked positively gleeful as he slipped in the seat beside Harry. “Did you have a pleasant evening?” Tom asked with an innocent little smile that didn’t fool Harry one bit.

For a moment Harry wanted to duck his head while he felt his cheeks heat up but then he remembered that he was a fucking Gryffindor once upon a time and he refused to give Tom the pleasure of seeing him embarrassed. So instead Harry looked Tom in the eye and returned that innocent smile with one of his own. “Oh yes, I had a fabulous night,” Harry said in a throaty whisper. “I never knew magic could be so… stimulating.”

And much to Harry’s everlasting joy, Tom ducked his head instead, pale cheeks colouring a rosy pink.

Ha! Score for Harry right there.

“You are infuriating,” Tom mumbled, still gazing steadily at his desk. “Every time I think I have you figured out you act in some unexpected way that makes me have to revaluate you entirely.”

“I do try,” Harry said with a wide grin, happy to see Tom brought down a bit by Harry’s innate Gryffindorishness. It was probably good for Tom’s generous ego, suffering a bit of embarrassment from time to time. Besides, in some ways Harry was an adult and he refused to be ashamed of sex in any way. Even when subtly called out on his masturbation habits by his crush.

Tom looked like he wanted to say more but Yates started lecturing so they fell quiet and focused their attention on the lesson. Harry did sneak plenty of glances at Tom when he had the chance. Aside from being absurdly handsome, there was also something so familiar about Tom. Something almost comforting, as strange as that sounded. Harry was once again reminded how their magic had reacted when they shared it during Tom’s magical promise back in the bookstore.

Everything about Tom Riddle, his magic and his looks, made Harry feel like he’d finally arrived at some destination he hadn’t even realized he was travelling to.

Of course, Harry had, once upon a time, housed a small piece of Tom’s soul. And while Harry had never consciously missed that soul piece once it had been removed, perhaps some part of his own soul remembered it on some level that Harry’s brain simply couldn’t understand.

Was that it? Was that why Harry was so attracted to Tom as a person? Was that why Harry had been unable to stay away from Tom during the summer holidays even when he’d known it was probably the wiser thing to do so? Was that why his body seemed so obsessed with Tom now? Why he’d developed feelings in the first place?

Were he and Tom a kind of… soulmates? Was that why Harry was drawn to him like he’d never been drawn to anyone else?

Harry was so lost in thought he didn’t even notice the class ending.

“Don’t you have history now?” Tom asked while tucking his book into his bag.

“Huh?” Harry blinked up at him and realized he should probably gather up his own belongings. “Yeah, we have history now.”

“Then I’ll see you in the library in an hour,” Tom said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He gave Harry a cheeky wink and sauntered out of the classroom.

That ridiculous man.

Harry stared after him for a moment until Myrtle cleared her throat beside him. “Yeah, I’m ready to go,” Harry said while jumping up, conveniently ignoring Myrtle’s questioning looks.

During History Harry pulled Ruby Baird’s letter out and got ready to write a reply. Some of the questions she’d asked were downright intrusive. Harry had absolutely no desire to recount poor Harriet’s sexual assault in detail to be published in their national newspaper. In the end Harry decided to write a letter instead of clinically answering a list of questions.

Dear Mrs Baird,

To answer your inquiry, I am one of a number of students who was assaulted by Konrad Mulciber at Hogwarts. I have spoken at length to the Aurors about my experience. I’m sure you can understand that I have no desire to recount any details to be published for all to read. Overcoming such trauma is hard enough without the whole country sticking their noses where they don’t belong.

I can tell you why Mulciber was allowed to carry on with his crimes for as long as he was able. Because Mulciber chose muggleborns as his victims. And as we muggleborns only know too well, we are not treated the same as those with magical parents. While I was interrogated by the Aurors, no one thought to contact my parents even though I’m a minor. Had I been a pureblood the first thing that would have happened was making sure at least one of my parents was present to support me.

Afterwards it became clear that some of the staff at Hogwarts couldn’t even imagine that a pureblood student had committed such serious crimes. Even though he had not a shred of evidence, Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore openly questioned my testimony in front of the Aurors, insisting that it must have been a half-blood, muggle-raised student who had assaulted me instead of Konrad Mulciber.

In fact, Hogwarts unfortunately has a history of covering up potential crimes when it comes to muggleborns. Some years ago a Gryffindor student named Ellen Mueller was found dead at school and the staff couldn’t even be bothered to contact magical law enforcement to conduct a thorough investigation. Instead they simply shipped off Ms Mueller’s body back to her muggle parents with a note.

Muggleborns have never been treated equally, even though we aren’t even really born of muggles. As we now know, we are the descendants of squibs abandoned in the muggle world because of prejudice against them.

Headmaster Dippet has promised improvements at Hogwarts and so far he’s taken several steps in the right direction. But Hogwarts, and the whole wizarding world, still have a long way to go when it comes to the acceptance and integration of squib descendants.

Yours sincerely,

Harriet Hubble
5th year Ravenclaw Prefect

As Harry tucked the letter away to be posted after class, he came across Euphemia Potter’s letter that she’d sent a few days earlier. Due to all the recent chaos Harry had completely forgotten to answer it, so he grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and wrote a reply. He thanked Euphemia sincerely for her letter and her offer to be a shoulder to cry on should Harry need it. He explained that a friend of his had also experienced similar trauma and they were able to talk about it together to help them heal. And he assured her that should he need help he would contact her and Fleamont at once.

After class Harry hurried up to the Owlery. He sent Holly off to the Potters and used a school owl for his reply to Mrs Baird.

In the library Harry found everyone already seated around their usual table. Theodorus Nott and Orion Black were again seated amongst Harry’s friends as though they belonged there. Harry sighed but didn’t comment on it. For now.

Tom had saved him a seat and Harry sat down with a tired sigh.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry said to no one in particular. Everyone stopped doing what they were doing and looked up at him in surprise. “I think we should stop using the term muggleborn and instead only use squib descendant going forward.”

“That’s a great idea,” Annabel said with an excited smile. “After all, change starts with us.”

“We’ll tell everyone in Hufflepuff to start calling us squib descendants,” Arnold said with a determined nod.

“But are you actually sure that all muggleborns are squib descendants?” Orion asked with a daring curve of his eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry said with a flat look and then gestured at Lukas. “He’s a Black descendant and related to you.”

Orion’s eyes widened as he gave Lukas a once over. Theodorus sat back in his seat and released a disbelieving sound.

For a moment Lukas seemed to want to disappear but then he apparently remembered that he was a Gryffindor and should therefor charge full steam ahead. “It’s true,” Lukas said, his face flushing just a bit from all the sudden attention. “On my mother’s side, four generations ago. A squib named Corvus Black.”

While his mouth sank open, Orion stared at Lukas until he finally noticed everyone’s silent anticipation to his reaction. “Well.” Orion swallowed. “There was a squib named Corvus, that much is true. Born in 1823.”

“Yeah, that’s him.” Lukas gave Orion an even look, as though daring him to argue. “He’s my great-great-grandfather.”

“The relationship between you two is very distant,” Theodorus pointed out, obviously trying to sound diplomatic but failing rather horribly.

“Distant or not, the relationship is there,” Tom said, much to Harry’s pleasant surprise. “Myrtle and I are also related through the Gaunts.”

“Yep,” Myrtle said, pushing her glasses up her nose so she could give Theodorus a rather defiant look. “I’m a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin.”

“You lie!” Theodorus was half out of his seat, hand going towards his wand.

”Myrtle wouldn’t lie about such things, would you, Myrtle?” Tom asked in parseltongue, causing everyone at the table except for Myrtle and Harry to flinch.

”Of course not!” Myrtle replied with a small frown.

“Ha!” Harry couldn’t control himself and bounced in his seat. “That was parseltongue, right? She said something, she must have. That wasn’t just random hissing.”

Tom gave Myrtle a proud smile. “Perfect parseltongue,” he said to a disbelieving Myrtle.

Theodorus had lost all colour in his face as he gaped at Myrtle as though he’d never seen or heard a parselmouth before. Orion looked absolutely stunned, as though someone had hit him over the head with a beater’s bat.

“Wow,” Annabel said, staring at Myrtle with wide eyes, though there was no fear to be found in them. “Wow, you’re a parselmouth, Myrtle!”

“Am I really?” Myrtle sank a little lower in her seat. “It all sounded just like English to me.”

“It takes some practice,” Tom assured her with a surprisingly warm smile. “The more you speak parseltongue, the easier it will become to recognize it while it’s being spoken, even by yourself.”

Harry felt oddly sentimental as he looked between Myrtle and Tom a few times. What would Tom have done, once upon a time, if he’d ever found out he’d killed a parselmouth directly related to Slytherin? Myrtle’s death had always been tragic, but the more Harry learned about it, the more tragic it became, if that was even possible. After he’d made his horcruxes, he probably wouldn’t have cared anymore. But Tom as he was now probably would have been devastated knowing he’d murdered one of his own magical family members, someone who could even speak parseltongue.

As Harry observed Tom and Myrtle staring at each other, a flare of sour envy erupted in his belly. It was such an unexpected emotion that it took Harry completely aback. Harry was not jealous because Tom was paying more attention to Myrtle than usual. That was utterly ridiculous. Harry wasn’t even sure what to do with the feelings he’d suddenly developed for Tom in the first place. He had no time to deal with teenage insecurities on top of that.

But a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that Tom might like to spend more and more time with Myrtle from now on, since she was the only other parselmouth Tom knew.

Harry stomped that little voice down hard. It was utterly ridiculous. Tom followed Harry around like a lovesick puppy, after all. And if Tom really did prefer to spend time with a fellow parselmouth, Harry could always reveal his own abilities to Tom, even though he had no feasible explanation for why he was a parselmouth as well in the first place. Well, perhaps Harry could suggest he had inherited it from Arvid Feborg, Harry’s Dark Lord ancestor. That might be plausible enough to satisfy Tom’s inevitable questions.

“The easiest way to practice is to conjure a snake every evening and talk to it,” Tom explained patiently.

Myrtle shuddered and crossed her arms, shoulders hunched. “No, thank you! I’m scared of snakes.”

“Merlin spare me,” Theodorus mumbled, still staring at Myrtle as though he expected her to spontaneously transform into Salazar Slytherin himself. “A parselmouth who is scared of snakes.”

“To be fair,” Harry quickly pointed out. “Until three minutes ago Myrtle didn’t know she could talk to snakes.”

“It’s fine,” Tom said without a care in the world while he kept smiling at Myrtle. “The two of us will simply have to talk parseltongue together from now on.”

And there was that sour rush of envy again. Harry swallowed against a feeling of bile in the back of his throat. Those stupid emotions could fuck right off.

They eventually managed to get some homework done before it was time to go to dinner. Once they made it to their dormitory Harry got out his wand, cast a serpensortia and summoned a rubber boa right on top of Myrtle’s bed.

“Oh my god!” Myrtle stared at it with wide eyes, though she didn’t seem scared at all. “That looks like a big, fat worm.”

Harry chuckled. That was exactly why he’d chosen to confront Myrtle with that species of snake. The rubber boa was very small, a rather drab brown colour and it preferred to eat worms. Harry doubted it even had teeth. It was as non-threatening as a snake could possibly get. “It’s a rubber boa. Ask it some questions.”

Myrtle took a small step closer to her bed, leaning forwards just a little. “Are you really a snake? You look like a worm.”

The tiny snake raised its head and coiled its body. “Of course I’m a snake. Are there any worms here? I am a bit hungry.”

Glancing up at Harry with a giggle, Myrtle beamed. “This one’s not scary at all. I can’t believe I can talk to it!”

“This way you can practice as much as you want,” Harry said as he lay back down on his bed. He had not conjured that snake just so Myrtle wouldn’t be spending anymore time with Tom in the future. He had not! Harry reached for Mrs Ashford and buried his nose in a chapter on laundry charms.

Myrtle spent half an hour chatting with the snake and then she apparently gathered up enough courage and scooped up the tiny thing and slid it into the pocket of her robes. “I’m taking her to the greenhouses to look for worms. She’s very hungry and there’s still over an hour until curfew.”

“Have fun!” Harry called after her. Once the door to the dormitory fell shut, Harry heaved a deep sigh.

He was not jealous that Myrtle was the first parselmouth that Tom got to meet. He was not!

Since Harry was alone in the dormitory and his mind was racing with absurd thoughts and his body was consumed with ridiculous emotions, Harry decided he needed a little distraction of the sexual kind. He closed and warded his curtains, conjured a dildo and used all the masturbation charms he’d practised the day before. He fucked himself to two glorious orgasms, one after another, because he reasoned that two orgasm in one session still counted only as one so Harry hadn’t already broken the promise he’d made himself that morning to only masturbate once a day.

Harry conveniently decided to ignore the third orgasm he allowed himself before hopping into the shower. After all, masturbation was a perfectly normal, healthy part of growing up and a couple of orgasms had never hurt anyone.

The next day the students of their year were visibly and audibly more exited than usual, all thanks to the upcoming duels in their defence class.

Myrtle had brought the small snake with her to their double Herbology class and let it slither amongst the raised beds to look for more worms while they pruned various magical herbs.

“Tom!” Myrtle said at once as they walked into the classroom for double Arithmancy. “Look what Harriet got me.” And Myrtle gently fished the snake out of her pocket and held it in both hands for Tom to admire.

And Harry was treated to the sight of Tom Riddle cooing over a tiny snake. He hissed a few nonsense endearments in parseltongue that made Myrtle giggle uncontrollably.

Fuck those fucking emotions! Harry was not feeling jealous. He was not!

“I’ve named her Petunia, after my favourite flower,” Myrtle said with a glowing smile while Harry choked on his own spit. “I’m keeping her.”

“What a charming name,” Tom said and muttered endearments again.

Harry threw himself into his seat and slammed his book on his desk. He was fine. Utterly fine. In fact, he was honestly happy that his two friends got along so well.

Also, fuck those ridiculous teenage hormones that made an otherwise reasonable human being succumb to absurd feelings of jealousy.

“That was very kind of you,” Tom whispered as he finally sat down beside Harry where he belonged.

“Hm?” Harry pretended to only now notice Tom. “Well, I firmly believe that the best way to deal with fear is to confront it.”

Tom got a funny sort of look on his face for a moment, though Harry had no idea why. “I completely agree. Still, not everyone is as accepting of parseltongue, unfortunately.”

“I have no problems with it,” Harry said with a smile he tried to make as charming as possible. Of course, being a parselmouth had freaked Harry the fuck out for years and years. It wasn’t until after the war, when Harry realized he’d kept the ability, that he’d made an effort to go out and talk to snakes just for fun. Sometimes he chatted with grass snakes and adders out in nature while going for a hike, and other times he visited different zoos where Harry enjoyed whispering to all the exotic snakes through the glass barriers. But ultimately Harry understood Tom’s relief at knowing his special talent was accepted. Harry had never told anyone, not even Ron, Hermione or Ginny that he’d kept his parselmouth abilities. He’d been honestly worried about their reactions, even to the point that he was scared they might think the horcrux inside of him wasn’t completely destroyed.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Tom said with a smile that did things to Harry’s belly. Not to mention other, lower parts of his body. He firmly ignored those sensations and concentrated on the professor.

Finally it was time for defence and everyone seemed more than a little excited or nervous or both.

Merrythought had pushed aside all the desks and created a duelling platform in the middle of her classroom, much to Harry’s pleasant surprise. None of the professors he’d had during his Hogwarts days had ever bothered with something like that. Well, except that one time with Lockhart but that had been an unmitigated disaster mostly because Lockhart couldn’t duel a toddler without a wand even if he tried.

“The normal rules apply,” Merrythought said while all the students dumped their bags near the walls and took up spots around the platform. “A duel lasts three minutes or until one of the duellists gets disarmed. For today no offensive or defensive spells are allowed. I will draw opponents.” And without further ado, Merrythought drew one name from a blue dish and one from a green dish. “First in the ring will be Maximus Lestrange and Daisy Corner.”

Unsurprisingly, Lestrange wiped the floor with Daisy, though Daisy did get a few good shots in with some creative uses of sewing spells. She sewed Lestrange’s trouser legs together, causing him to fall over. But that didn’t stop Lestrange from casting an overpowered scourging charm at Daisy’s face, causing her to cry out in shock, hands flying up on instinct and dropping her wand in the process.

Harry enjoyed seeing all the creative ways the students used magic. He set himself a challenge, to only use charms from a single category. If he allowed himself to use whatever magic he wanted he’d have much more of an unfair advantage than he already did with his Auror level knowledge of duelling.

“Next up are Abraxas Malfoy and Harriet Hubble,” Merrythought called out about halfway through the class. Malfoy, still sporting a bright green head, confidently hopped onto the platform, seemingly convinced he could easily wipe the floor with an ignorant little mudblood.

Baking charms, Harry decided as he climbed on top of the platform. He was only going to use baking charms to teach Malfoy a little lesson.

“Begin!” Merrythought called.

Malfoy gave a half-hearted bow and immediately shot something blue in Harry’s direction. Harry guessed it was a scourging charm. How original.

Without any effort, Harry sidestepped the spell and cast a charm to grease baking sheets at the floor beneath Malfoy’s feet, causing him to slip around, desperate to find his footing. Without letting up, Harry cast a spell to dust a work surface with flour at Malfoy’s head, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and sneeze as the cloud of flour erupted around him. Immediately Harry aimed a spell to knead bread at Malfoy’s stomach, which didn’t really hurt him but which did cause him to double over. To wrap it all up, Harry conjured a large sheet of bright yellow fondant and aimed it tightly around Malfoy’s face. As Malfoy desperately clawed at his head to get the fondant off, Harry rushed up to him and plucked the wand right out of his hand.

“Ms Hubble wins,” Merrythought called out with a surprised look on her face. It was only now that Harry remembered that Harriet hadn’t been the best at duelling. She’d been quite good at all the theoretical work, but she’d never been nearly as strong of a caster as Harry was. “You’ve come a long way,” Merrythought said as Harry tried to sneak past her, hoping against hope she wouldn’t comment on his sudden talents in duelling.

“Er…” Harry offered her an innocent little smile. “My aunt showed me a few things over the summer, you know, for my OWLs.”

Merrythought narrowed her eyes and hummed in agreement. “For your OWLs, of course.”

Harry all but fled back to Tom, who was looking at him with renewed appreciation.

“Were those all baking charms?” Tom asked with clear humour in his voice.

Harry raised his chin up and huffed. “Obviously.” He gave Tom a daring look. “Not all of us discount the use of charms in the kitchen, Tom.”

“Clearly,” Tom agreed with a chuckle.

Next up was Myrtle against Elanor Greengrass. Myrtle quickly handed over Petunia to Tom to keep her safe, which Harry studiously ignored, and then she climbed onto the platform with slightly slumped shoulders. Both Myrtle and Elanor favoured cosmetic charms and were quite creative with them. Myrtle cast a moisturizing charm on the floor beneath Elanor’s feet, while Elanor caused Myrtle to cough uncontrollably by shooting a stream of face powder at her. This caused Myrtle to double over and her overpowered exfoliation charm, which she’d aimed at Elanor’s face, landed right between Elanor’s legs.

“Fuck,” Harry said in shock as Elanor fell to the floor of the platform, screaming and clawing at her own crotch. Tom was unable to hold back a snort of clear amusement before he composed himself again. Around them several students burst out into hysterical laughter while others buried their faces in their hands in second-hand embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry!” Myrtle shrieked in between coughs. “I was aiming at her face.”

“Warren wins,” Merrythought said with a shake of her head. “Someone take Miss Greengrass to the infirmary.”

Tom was the last one to duel against Robert Clearwater. Tom used any number of cleaning charms to great effect. He waxed the floor beneath Clearwater’s feet, he polished Clearwater’s face until it gleamed, causing Clearwater to rub furiously at his eyes and finally he starched Clearwater’s robes until they became as stiff as a board and Clearwater was unable to move his arms. In defeat, Clearwater dropped his wand with a resigned look on his shiny face. Apparently the whole class was already aware that winning in a duel against Tom Riddle was impossible.

“And Riddle wins,” Merrythought called out, also not surprised in the least by this result. “Homework for this Friday is an essay about the spells you used today. Why did you choose them? Did they work? Why or why not.”

Malfoy was still plucking strips of yellow fondant out of his green hair, much to Harry’s amusement. He couldn’t resist giving Malfoy a thumb’s up while he followed Tom out of the classroom.

“I can’t believe I won!” Myrtle all but danced through the corridor. “I don’t think I’ve ever won a duel before.”

“It was a spectacular victory,” Harry said, unable to hold back his own laughter while remembering poor Elanor’s plight.

They spent an hour in the library, regaling their Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends of their victories.

“I’m taking notes,” Annabel said, reaching for her quill. “We’ve got defence tomorrow. This way we might even win our own duels.”

That evening, flush with his own victory, Harry spent an hour in bed lazily fucking himself with a dildo, which resulted in so many multiple orgasms that Harry lost count.

Still only counted as one masturbation session, so Harry was doing fine.

The next morning, when Harry and Myrtle walked into the Great Hall they were met with lots of whispers. Harry glimpsed a few worrying things on the frontpage of one student’s Daily Prophet and once an owl delivered Harry’s copy he wasted no time in unfolding it.

The entire front page of the newspaper was dedicated to Mulciber’s crimes and the worrying state of Hogwarts.

Ruby Baird had printed Harry’s letter word for word with his name boldly listed beneath it.

Harry slowly closed his eyes. Fuck his impulsivity. There was no hoping for anonymity ever again after this, he was sure of it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

“I take it that you didn’t give Mrs Baird permission to print your letter, judging by your bitter expression,” Tom said as he fell into step with him on their way out of the Great Hall to go to classes. It was Wednesday, and they had no shared classes that day, but that didn’t stop Tom from accompanying Harry on his way to double Charms.

“You’re quite right,” Harry muttered, staring ahead while he quietly fumed that Ruby Baird had all but painted a target on Harry’s back. There would probably be more than a few witches and wizards who would take exception to what Harry had so confidently written in his letter that now landed in just about every magical household thanks to Baird’s forthrightness.

“If you mention this to your magical relatives, they might be able to do something about it. You are, after all, still just a minor,” Tom said in a soft voice as he leaned a bit closer to Harry.

Harry blinked a few times in surprise before he looked up at Tom. “That’s a good point. I’ll write Fleamont a letter, since he knows Baird personally.” Harry wasn’t sure what could be accomplished this way, but even just Fleamont telling Ruby Baird off was better than nothing, he supposed.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to your own class?” Harry asked as they reached the Charms classroom where Dollie Woodward, their professor and Head of Hufflepuff House, stood waiting in the doorway for her students.

“Yes, I suppose I’d better hurry, since I’ve got Transfiguration and I don’t want to give Dumbledore anymore reasons to disapprove of me and my actions,” Tom said with a bit of a grimace. Harry nodded in agreement and waved at him as Tom turned around to head to his own class.

“I think it was very brave,” Myrtle said as she sat down beside Harry while all the other students found their own seats around them. “What you said in that letter. It needed to be said for a long time.”

Harry shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He stood by what he’d said, that wasn’t the problem. He just hadn’t wanted to publicize it in such a way at this point in time. Changing people’s perception of muggleborns, or rather squib descendants, was something best done slowly, over a longer period of time. Even Harry and his usual Gryffindor impulsiveness could understand that much. But Ruby Baird had now forced the issue, which would most likely cause many more people to protest those progressive ideas than otherwise might have happened.

Woodward spent the first hour lecturing on stuff Harry already knew so he took the time to write a short letter to Fleamont about what had been happening at Hogwarts so far. He didn’t want the letter to be nothing but a complaint, since that might make it seem like Harry only wanted to use Fleamont to fix his problems for him. Nothing could be further from the truth, since Harry genuinely loved the contact he now had with his former grandfather. So he talked about the duel he’d won, what spells he’d used, and about the DA meeting this past weekend and how much of a success that had been. And near the end of the letter he made some mention about being very surprised that Baird had published his letter like that, since he’d never given her permission to do so. There, that should be enough to hopefully get Fleamont to have some strong words with Baird.

Their next class was Transfiguration, and Harry wasn’t looking forward to it. So far Dumbledore ignored him since Harry’s little outburst in his office, following the DA that past Saturday, and Harry sincerely hoped Dumbledore would continue to do so for the rest of Harry’s Hogwarts career.

Thankfully, Dumbledore didn’t pay Harry any attention during their class and they practiced more vanishing charms. By the end of the class, as students put away their books, Myrtle pulled Petunia the rubber boa from her robe pocket since the poor snake had been hidden away in there for three hours straight. Just as Harry and Myrtle pushed their chairs into place behind their desks and got ready to leave, Dumbledore suddenly appeared behind Myrtle.

“Is that snake your pet, Ms Warren?” Dumbledore asked with a rather pinched look on his face.

“Yes, Professor,” Myrtle said, voice wavering a little as she gave Dumbledore an look full of insecurity. “Harriet got it for me to practice my parseltongue.”

Dumbledore blinked wide eyes behind his glasses. “You’re a parselmouth?”

“Yes,” Myrtle sighed, holding Petunia a bit closer. “That was a surprise for me, too, but thanks to the ancestor potion I now know I’m a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Can you believe that?”

Dumbledore looked struck dumb by that bit of information, and Harry had to resist the urge to laugh in his face. Harry remembered all too well how negatively Dumbledore had reacted to learning young Tom Riddle had been a parselmouth, immediately using that as evidence that Tom was an irredeemably bad child. Yet here Dumbledore was confronted with another parselmouth, who happened to be probably the least threatening student he had in his classes that year.

“That may be so,” Dumbledore finally said, visibly pulling himself together. “But snakes are not on the approved list of pets students are allowed to keep at Hogwarts. I’m afraid you’ll have to get rid of it.”

Myrtle burst into tears and Harry was beyond tempted to hex Dumbledore to Hogsmeade and back for upsetting her like that. Instead, Harry kept his temper in check and was able to come up with an appropriate response that wouldn’t see him expelled.

“I hadn’t realized that the staff was finally cracking down on illegal pets,” Harry said, keeping his expression as pleasant as he could.

“This matter does not concern you,” Dumbledore said with venom in his voice as he gave Harry the briefest of glances. Ah. There were the real emotions Dumbledore was feeling towards Harry, especially since Harry’s letter had said some very unkind things about him.

“I believe it does, Professor,” Harry said, looking at Dumbledore as though he couldn’t possibly imagine why Dumbledore suddenly seemed to dislike him so much. “I’m after all a Prefect now, and upholding Hogwarts’ rules is part of my duties these days. I’m glad to hear that you’re going to see to it that all the rats, hamsters, lizards, spiders, budgies and bunnies will finally be banished from the castle. I’m sure the students will be quite upset about losing their beloved pets, but rules are rules after all.”

Myrtle, still with fat tears dripping down her cheeks while she held Petunia protectively against her chest, gaped at Harry in shock.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, pursed his lips and didn’t seem sure what to say for a few moments. “Five points from Ravenclaw, Ms Hubble, for interfering in a situation that has nothing to do with you.”

Harry simply nodded, keeping his face blank while inside he was fuming at Dumbledore’s ridiculous behaviour. “Come, Myrtle, we’ll go see Professor Driscoll. I’m sure she’ll let you keep Petunia, since she’s a tool to help you learn a new language.”

Myrtle kept her head down, avoiding Dumbledore’s gaze and hurried after Harry out of the classroom. Everyone else was already well on their way to lunch, so the corridors were mostly empty. “Do you really think Driscoll will let me keep Petunia? I really love her and I don’t want to lose her.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Harry was quite sure Driscoll wouldn’t take away something that helped one of her students learn a new talent. And if needed, Harry could sweeten the deal a bit by offering Driscoll the information on the colour modifier for wards, which he knew Driscoll was still curious about. “We’ll talk to her this afternoon after classes end.”

That seemed to reassure Myrtle enough that she at least stopped crying, though she kept a tight but careful hold on Petunia. Before they made it to the stairway, they were cut off by a group of Slytherin girls. The only one Harry recognized was Walburga Black, who was a sixth or seventh year. She wasn’t yet the vile hag Harry knew her as thanks to her portrait in Grimmauld Place, but there was definitely something noxious about her even at this age.

“You have some nerve for a bunch of mudbloods,” Walburga said with a vicious sneer as she whipped her wand out, the rest of the Slytherins standing beside her, also taking out their wands. “I do believe it’s time someone finally showed you your place.”

“Myrtle, get down!” Harry yelled, letting his own wand fall into his hand as he stepped out of the way of a bone-breaking curse that one of the Slytherins cast at him. Thankfully, Myrtle did as she was told and dropped to the floor, crawling towards the wall to take cover there. Harry cast a quick shield to keep something yellow and nasty from hitting her before he focused on his opponents. There were five of them, and while he was sure they wouldn’t shy away from the most dangerous curses, Harry was still sure they were no match for him.

Harry was a trained Auror, after all. He sidestepped two more hexes and cast a fire rope that he threw at the girls, catching three of them around their calves. He yanked his wand up, pulling all three girls off their feet none too gently. Two of them dropped their wands, and Harry sent those scattering down the hall with a wild burst of magic before summoning the third wand, letting it fly over his head to land behind him.

That left two Slytherins, including Walburga, who snarled out a blood-boiling curse that Harry quickly shielded against. The other Slytherin almost tripped as the girls behind her tried to get to their feet and her curse went wide and exploded against the wall above Harry’s head. And then, out of nowhere, Walburga went flying with so much force she scooted along the corridor right past Harry and didn’t stop until halfway down the hallway. Then her wand sailed through the air and landed in Tom’s hand as he appeared around the corner, face a furious mask as he took in the situation.

“Were you hit?” Tom asked as he looked Harry up and down.

“Not even once,” Harry said, quickly making sure Myrtle was still in one piece. Myrtle looked up as she sat hunched against the wall, face pale and tear streaked, but she seemed in perfect health.

“What is going on here?” Dumbledore said as he stepped around another corner, taking in the scene with anger blazing in his blue eyes.

“These Slytherins attacked myself and Myrtle,” Harry said quickly, lest Dumbledore try to expel Tom on the spot or something equally ridiculous. “I was able to hold them off for a few moments, until Tom came and saved us.”

“They attacked us,” Walburga said as she pushed herself up and limped closer. “Me and my friends were minding our own business when those mud-muggleborns started slinging the most awful curses at us.”

“Would you like to examine our wands?” Harry asked dryly, offering his wand handle-first to Dumbledore. “Because it wasn’t myself who cast all those nasty curses, I promise you, Professor.”

“No matter who started it,” Dumbledore said, giving them all narrow-eyed looks full of quiet judgement, “students are not allowed to use magic in the hallways. Mr Riddle and Ms Hubble, you will both serve a week of detention with Professor Strickland. And Ms Black and her friends will spend the next week helping Mr Stoor with cleaning the castle. And ten points from you all, each.”

Sullivan Strickland was the Care of Magical Creatures professor, so Tom and Harry would probably be shovelling lots of shit together for a week to come. And Angus Stoor was the castle’s caretaker. A gruff man who mostly kept to himself, but he was not nearly as unpleasant as Filch had been.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said through gritted teeth, knowing it was futile to try to argue with Dumbledore, even when it was Walburga and her cronies who had obviously started it. Dumbledore had always disliked Tom, and Harry had given him no reason to support him either, so it made perfect sense that a prejudiced man like Dumbledore refused to even consider their side of the story.

Harry quickly helped Myrtle to her feet, with Tom grabbing her other elbow, and together they supported Myrtle as they left.

It wasn’t until they reached the Entrance Hall that Myrtle found her voice again. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I was completely useless.”

“No, you weren’t,” Harry told her with a reassuring smile. “You listened to my instructions, so I could focus on our opponents. You were a big help.”

“I’d heard whispering around Slytherin this morning,” Tom said as they reached the Great Hall. “That more than one student was severely pissed off about that letter that got published, and that they were planning to teach you a lesson.”

“Yeah,” Harry said a with a sigh. “I figured that much. Thankfully, I’m quite good at duelling these days, so I’m not worried.”

Tom gave her an uncertain look as he let go of Myrtle’s elbow, who sagged against Harry in return. “Yes, I certainly got that impression as well, seeing you easily hold up against five older opponents.” Tom’s gaze was full of things Harry couldn’t quite identify and he swallowed before giving Tom a quick nod.

“I’m still happy you came to our rescue,” Harry said, trying to take some of Tom’s scrutiny off himself because he realized that perhaps he had been a bit too good at fighting off that attack.

Tom kept quiet for a moment as students walked around them, eager to have lunch in the Great Hall. “I’ll have a few words with some people in the common room later today. Make sure they know not to bother you again.”

In other words, Tom was going to take out his frustrations on his fellow Slytherins with some creative curses, probably. Not that Harry had a problem with that, at all.

“See you in the library after classes?” Harry waited until Tom nodded before he led Myrtle to the Ravenclaw table. Myrtle flopped down on the bench and ran a trembling hand across her face.

Harry gave her a concerned look. “Have a strong cup of tea,” he advised while pouring both himself and Myrtle some from the teapot. “That’ll help settle your nerves.”

“Please tell me we’re going to learn some of the things you just used in our next Defence Association meeting,” Myrtle mumbled, sounding as though she was exhausted. The adrenaline was probably leaving her body, Harry figured.

“We’ll practice some real duelling, sure,” Harry said as he reached for the soup tureen. He was famished, after the unexpectedly exciting morning he had so far. As he served himself a generous bowl of soup, he saw Walburga and her cronies enter the Great Hall, faces full of quiet fury as they stared at Harry and Myrtle at the Ravenclaw table. Yeah, Harry was sure they hadn’t seen the last of those witches just yet and he promised himself he would teach Myrtle how to add shield charms to her clothing that afternoon, just to be safe. Those witches now knew that Harry was an opponent to reckon with, but that Myrtle was rather vulnerable. So naturally, they would target her the moment they found her alone.

By the time they strolled to the greenhouses for Herbology, Myrtle seemed mostly back to herself again, though she seemed still a bit more subdued than usual and she stayed close to Harry for the entire walk. Spending an hour pruning various plants helped Myrtle get rid of whatever anxiety was still plaguing her and when they made their way to the library she seemed completely all right again.

Tom wasn’t there yet, since he had another hour of classes, and Harry used that time without distractions of the Riddle kind to finish his homework. When Tom finally entered the library, Theodorus Nott and Orion Black were not far behind.

“Hubble,” Orion said with a bit of a grimace as he came to a halt behind Harry. “If you attack my fiancée one more time I’ll have no choice but to challenge you to a duel.”

Harry turned in his seat and blinked up at Orion. “You’re engaged to her? You have my sympathies.”

Orion responding look was one of utter misery while Tom couldn’t hold back a burst of surprised but thoroughly amused laughter as he slid into a seat beside Harry.

“But just so we’re clear,” Harry said, because he was not going to take anyone’s shit for stuff he didn’t start. “Your darling fiancée and four of her minions attacked me and Myrtle. I defended us, and if she attacks us again at any time in the future, I’ll defend us again, simple as that.” Harry gave Orion a rather chilling little smile. “And I’ll kick your arse as well if that is what you want to preserve your honour or some such rot. Us squib descendants are done being the whipping boys and girls of this school.”

Blinking, Orion looked like he had no clue what to say to that. Harry merely turned his back on him and continued writing his Charms essay as though nothing had happened.

Their little stand off was interrupted by the arrival of Annabel and Lukas, who seemed to take the tension in stride as they sat down as well.

“So what do you think Strickland will have us do tonight?” Harry askes once he finished his essay.

Tom’s mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. “I’m sure it will involve animal excrements of some kind.”

“Yeah, so shovelling shit,” Harry said with an agreeable nod. “As I feared.”

“You got detention?” Annabel asked as she looked between Tom and Harry with round, disbelieving eyes. “What did you do?”

It was Myrtle who launched into the story of the duel, making it sound like it had been an epic battle to the death rather than a few students exchanging curses in the corridor. Annabel and Lukas listened to the whole thing with bated breath and afterwards seemed to agree that Dumbledore had been very unfair in punishing Harry and Tom as much as he’d done the others.

“And that man also told me to get rid of Petunia,” Myrtle said with a bit of a pout.

That reminded Harry. “We should probably go chat with Driscoll now before dinner,” Harry said, putting away his books. Tom frowned as he leaned back in his seat, apparently not very happy Harry was taking off again. “I’ll see you tonight,” Harry quickly told him, which seemed to mollify Tom somewhat. He really was a possessive little shit, wasn’t he?

Driscoll, as expected, gave Myrtle permission to keep Petunia once it became clear Myrtle used her to master her parseltongue. Driscoll seemed fascinated by that particular talent and had Myrtle say various things in parseltongue just to hear what it sounded like. Harry was sure Driscoll was going to share that particular bit of news in the teacher’s lounge before the night was through.

After dinner, Harry made a quick stop in his dormitory to freshen up and put on some older robes, just in case detention got really disgusting. Then he hurried down after telling Myrtle it was probably a good idea to stay in Ravenclaw Tower that evening, lest she run into Walburga and cronies by herself. Myrtle paled considerably at that idea and gave a solemn nod, promising she’d stay put.

Tom was already waiting in the Entrance Hall, and just as Harry approached him, Sullivan Strickland appeared as well.

“Mr Riddle and Ms Hubble, right?” Strickland asked as he approached them. Harriet didn’t take Care for Magical Creatures, so Strickland hadn’t even officially met her before.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said with a agreeable smile. “What’s on the menu for this evening?”

Strickland chuckled and waved them out the doors onto the grounds. “Nothing too bad. Cleaning out some stables, but you can use magic for that. And taking care of some animals, if you don’t mind, Ms Hubble.”

“Not at all,” Harry said amiably. He honestly liked animals well enough, so looking after them didn’t bother him one bit. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve always regretted not being able to fit your classes into my schedule.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Strickland said as they approached the stables near the forbidden forest. “Mr Riddle will be able to help you if you have any questions. He’s one of my star students.”

Tom seemed to take those compliments in stride, face set in a calm and agreeable mask as Strickland opened the stable doors.

“All the stables need cleaning and fresh straw. And the orphaned unicorn needs a bottle, which I’ll bring in a moment.” Strickland gestured around briefly before disappearing again.

Most of the stables of the long building were full with all sorts of critters. Hippogriffs, a couple of Thestrals, some Abraxan, and one golden unicorn foal which immediately drew Harry’s attention. There were also a few kneazles lurking about, gazing at them with luminous eyes as they hid in the shadows.

“Here.” Strickland returned and thrust a huge bottle of warm milk into Harry’s hands. “Just offer it to the foal, he’ll do the rest.” And then he was gone again.

Slowly, carefully, Harry opened the stable door and smiled at the foal, who watched him with large, blinking eyes. “Hi there,” Harry said, ignoring Tom’s snort of amusement as he leaned against the stable door to see what Harry was going to do. “Would you like some milk, my shiny little friend?”

The foal sniffed the air and approached Harry with careful steps as Harry held out he bottle, rubber teat first. Before long the foal latched onto the bottle and sucked eagerly.

“Wow,” Harry couldn’t help but say, since he was genuinely impressed by the beautiful animal in front of him. He’d seen plenty of unicorns before, but never one so young and so close. He looked up at Tom with a bright smile, and was briefly taken aback by how intense Tom’s gaze was as he stared at Harry. Tom seemed full of quiet hunger, of just plain desire as he stared at Harry.

Swallowing, Harry turned back to the foal. Yeah, it seemed that Tom was just as attracted to Harry as Harry was to him. Something told Harry that once they admitted that to each other a physical relationship would follow at once. Best to hold off on that for a while longer, though, since Tom was still quite young. And so was Harry, at least physically. There would be plenty of time to fuck each other’s brains out in the future, after all.

Harry reached out a careful hand and gently stroked the foal across its short, wild manes. “I wonder what your name is.”

“I doubt Strickland named it,” Tom said in a surprisingly hoarse voice. “He’ll release it back to the herd the moment its weaned.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry said with a wistful sigh. It really was an amazing animal. “Still, we’ll be looking after it for a week, right? We could name it.”

Tom shook his head and leaned a little heavier on the gate as he gave Harry an indulgent smile. “What would you name it, then?”

“Silver,” Harry said with a chuckle, holding onto the bottle with two hands. It was almost empty and the foal was pulling onto it aggressively.

“It’s gold,” Tom pointed out in a dry voice.

“Exactly.” Harry gave Tom a huge grin and finally wrestled the empty bottle away from the foal. “No, that’s all you get for now, Silver.”

“No.” Tom stared at Harry as though he only now realized how utterly impossible Harry was on any given day.

“Yes, it’s done, Tom.” Harry slipped out of the stable and quickly slid the door shut, lest Silver follow him out. “We’ve named our first animal together. That’s a rather momentous occasion, don’t you think?”

“I don’t recall having any say in naming the thing,” Tom muttered as he looked down at Harry with narrowed eyes.

“But you didn’t object either,” Harry pointed out, still grinning.

“I did, in fact, object.” Tom crossed his arms, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

“But not very firmly,” Harry insisted, taking a step closer to Tom though he had no idea why.

“Very well, next time I’ll just curse you to get my point across,” Tom whispered in response, also taking a step closer to Harry.

“I’d love to see you try.” And Harry meant every word of that. Suddenly exchanging curses with Tom seemed like a very exciting idea and Harry couldn’t help thinking of a few ways in which he could tempt Tom to a friendly duel sometime soon.

“What sort of spells would you use to defend yourself?” Tom murmured, now standing just about flush with Harry, gazing down at her with heated eyes. “Perhaps some of those…stimulating spells you’ve been using so eagerly these past few days?”

Harry’s whole face burned while remembering everything he’d been doing while thinking of Tom these past few days. Tom smirked in response, even though the stables were rather dimly lit and he wouldn’t be able to see in detail how much Harry was suddenly blushing.

“To be honest with you, Harriet.” Tom leaned down a little more. “I wouldn’t mind a… personal demonstration of those spells.”

They were going to kiss, weren’t they? Harry suddenly knew with certainty that was what was about to happen. He licked his lips before he could stop himself and tilted his head up a bit more because right at that moment, Harry wanted to kiss Tom more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life.

“How did you manage with the foal?” Strickland asked as he barged inside the stable.

Harry and Tom sprang apart, Tom banging his elbow against the stable door and Harry dropping the bottle in his arms. Thankfully the glass had been charmed unbreakable so Harry quickly picked it up again and offered it to Strickland with a wavering smile. “Silver drank all of it,” Harry said, studiously ignoring Tom’s body standing at his back.

“You’ve named him Silver?” Strickland asked with an amused chuckle. “It’s an apt name, since he’ll turn silver in a few months.”

“Oh.” Harry had completely forgotten unicorn foals did that, though he shrugged as if everything had been done intentionally. “Yeah, I figured it suited him. Tom didn’t agree. He wanted to name him Tommy Junior, but I figured that wasn’t a very regal name for such an incredible animal.” Harry kept a smile on his face, ignoring Tom’s vicious poke in the back with a firm finger.

Strickland shook his head as he gazed between them both. “You’d better get to cleaning now, or else you’ll still be here past midnight.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said dutifully, stepping back and onto Tom’s toes with purpose, which resulted in a pinch in his side before he could flee the scene. Oh my god, Tom Riddle was ridiculous and Harry simply adored that about him and holy fuck, this crush was really getting out of hand. Harry chose the stable of the most vicious looking hippogriff while Tom moved to the opposite side of the building to start on a Thestral.

Harry gave the hippogriff a bow after he opened the stable door and waited until the animal bowed back before casting various charms to remove the manure and soiled straw. Strickland provided them with fresh bales of straw to use in the stables and they methodically worked their way through the entire building, cleaning all the animals quietly. Harry didn’t dare say anything, since Strickland was still there.

They had almost kissed, though, he was sure of it.

Even though Harry knew it was probably better that they didn’t rush into things, he also couldn’t help but think about what would have happened if Strickland hadn’t interrupted them. If they’d spent the evening alone in the stables. Yeah, Harry’s imagination went straight to all sorts of sexy shenanigans in a warm and dark hayloft.

Yeah, it probably was for the best that Strickland had interrupted them, at least for the time being. Harry did know he had some new material to add to his fantasies he’d be thinking of later that night in his own bed while he using some of those…stimulating charms.

By the time they were done, it was nearing midnight, and Strickland walked them back to the castle. Harry whished them both goodnight, not missing the look full of disappointment Tom sent his way as he walked down the steps to the dungeons.

Even though it was already late, Harry spend some quality time with a dildo before going to sleep, thinking about Tom and himself in the stables and what could have happened.

The next morning they had double Potions first thing, and Harry felt a little on edge when Tom entered the classroom and sat down next to him. But Tom acted like he always did, giving Harry a small smile before gathering his tools from his bag. Yeah, okay, it was probably a good thing they didn’t talk about what almost happened. Especially not during class.

He and Tom managed to brew a perfect Draught of Peace, which Slughorn reminded them was a frequent part of the OWLs. He also reminded Tom to bring Harry to the Slug Club meeting that Saturday evening, which Harry had completely forgotten about.

“Not to worry, Professor,” Tom said with a perfectly polite smile. “I’ll make sure Harriet won’t get away.”

Harry blinked and barely managed to hold back a snort that wanted to escape him. As Harry got up from the desk, he gave Tom a cheeky wink and then turned his back on him, though he did see Tom briefly bite his lip in response. Yeah, riling Tom up might just be Harry’s new hobby, he decided. That, and fucking himself with a dildo every single night. And hopefully one day, Harry would be able to combine those two hobbies.

As they walked up the stairs to the ground floor, they encountered some Ravenclaws who were making their way down for their next class.

“Harriet,” Naveen Tikaram said, the 6th year Ravenclaw who was part of the DA. “Will the DA take place this coming Saturday? Since it’s a Hogsmeade day then.”

Harry frowned, since he’d completely forgotten that in Harriet’s time there were more Hogsmeade’s weekends than had been in his own time, though he had no idea why. “Yes, of course. We’ll stop before lunch, so people can still go to Hogsmeade in the afternoon.”

“Fantastic,” Naveen said, taking a step closer to Harry. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me, Harriet?”

“Er…” Harry was truly caught off guard, not having expected such an invitation from a young man he barely knew. Behind him, he could practically feel Tom glowering and he could only imagine what sort of thunderous expression sat on his face at that moment. “That’s very kind of you to ask,” Harry said with a polite smile. “But I already have plans.” That was a big, fat lie, of course, but Harry had presumed he’d be hanging out with Tom and their other friends on the first Hogsmeade day of the new schoolyear. So that counted as plans, right?

“Of course,” Naveen gave Harry an agreeable nod and made his way down the stairs.

Harry took off to Charms, Myrtle hurrying behind him wanting to know what Naveen had said to him. After lunch they had a very boring hour of History before they met up with Tom again for Arithmancy.

“Have you heard?” Robert Clearwater said to Myrtle just as Tom slid into his usual seat beside Harry. “Naveen Tikaram fell down the stairs just after lunch. He broke seven bones, including his pelvis. He has to spend at least two nights in the hospital while Madam McClure puts him back together.”

Harry very slowly, very carefully, looked to the side. Tom was the picture of a dutiful student as he opened his book and dipped his quill into his bottle of ink, ready to take notes. His gaze was carefully fixed on the desk in front of him, though the corners of his lips couldn’t seem to stop quirking up, no matter how much of a blank mask Tom was trying to keep on his face.

Sighing, Harry shook his head. Flirting with Tom Riddle was all well and good until someone broke his pelvis. It seemed that Harry needed to have a serious conversation with Tom that attempted murder would not make Harry like him more than he already did.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

While Professor Driscoll droned on and on about a specific Arithmancy equation that was often used in OWL examinations, Harry tuned her out and instead tried to figure out what to do about Tom Riddle.

The handsome young man who was sitting next to him. And who had just an hour earlier tried to murder another student just because that student had dared show an interest in Tom’s object of desire, Harry himself. Even though Harry had turned Naveen down quickly and clearly. Apparently that wasn’t enough to curb Tom’s violent tendencies.

Part of Harry wanted to drag Tom away the second class ended and give him a piece of his mind about the acceptability of murder attempts as part of a teenage courtship. There was enough burning outrage swirling through Harry that he was sure he could lecture Tom for a whole hour on the subject without once having to come up for air.

But the more Harry thought about doing that, the more he realized that this was not the right way to approach a person like Tom Riddle.

The biggest problem was, of course, that Tom Riddle had no idea how to act like a functional human being. Oh, he could put on a genial mask and smile and laugh in all the right places. But in essence, Tom lacked something that would make any other person understand that passive-aggressive murder attempts were not an acceptable way to try to get a girl’s attention. Whether this was because of something Tom was born with or because of how he was raised in that damned orphanage hardly even mattered in the end.

What truly mattered was that Tom was not a well-adjusted individual who understood such simple human concepts. So treating him like he was simply wouldn’t work. Tom would nod and smile and promise from the bottom of his heart that he’d never do it again, and then promptly try to murder the next guy who give Harry more than a cursory glance.

Harry thought there was a great deal of irony in the fact that Harry was suddenly the most well-adjusted person compared to his friend. In his old life Harry had been anything but well-adjusted. He’d been a workaholic with his fair share of war trauma, a borderline alcoholic who couldn’t even manage a healthy relationship with the girl he loved, and a would-be hermit who hardly left his house outside of work because he was constantly harassed by both the public and the press.

Yeah, Harry knew all too well what it was like to be barely able to function like a well-adjusted adult. So he sympathized with Tom on several levels, since it was obvious that no one had ever taken the time to teach Tom any of this stuff. Harry at least had his friends, once upon a time. He’d had Hermione who’d given him a small pile of books on how to deal with all sorts of traumas and how to manage your emotions. And while Harry had snorted and rolled his eyes at his friend, he’d still read the books. And while they hadn’t fixed everything, or even most things, they had given Harry a few ideas on how to get through the day without wanting to curse everyone and everything in sight out of sheer frustration with how horribly his life turned out to be.

Tom had no one to give him a push in the right direction. Well, now he had Harry, who had given Tom a few shoves away from the pitfalls that would have turned him into Lord Voldemort, but that was it. Getting angry at Tom right at this time wouldn’t help anything, because Tom would simply not understand that his actions were wrong. As long as Tom could get away with something, he’d probably never think of it as wrong.

But Tom was a Slytherin down to his core. Tom was always looking for ways to get what he wanted. So perhaps Harry had to approach this whole mess as something that he could use to give Tom what he wanted in exchange for stopping any future murder attempts.

And what did Tom seem to want most of all at that moment? That was Harry himself.

A plan began to form in Harry’s head, something that would tickle Tom’s love for negotiations, no doubt. And that would hopefully keep the rest of the Hogwarts students safe from Tom’s passive-aggressive tendencies to end the lives of those who displeased him.

So when their class ended, Harry pretended as though nothing was amiss. He gave Tom a bright smile while he packed his bag. “Library next? I’ve got some homework to finish and we’ve got detention tonight. I’ve also got Astronomy at eleven, so it will be a very long evening for me.”

Tom blinked a few times while he stared at Harry in obvious doubt. Apparently Tom had expected Harry to give him some sort of lecture, or perhaps give him the silent treatment. He obviously hadn’t expected Harry to treat him as though nothing had happened.

Ah, Harry did love shaking up Tom’s expectations from time to time. It would keep the man on his toes around Harry instead of thinking he could anticipate his every move.

“Yes, I have some homework to finish myself,” Tom muttered and followed Harry out of the classroom.

Myrtle joined them, Petunia cupped in her hands while she briefly whispered to the snake. Then she looked up at Harry. “It’s so horrible what happened to Naveen, isn’t it?”

“A tragic accident,” Harry said with solemn nod before giving Tom a pointed look. Harry might pretend nothing was amiss but he still wanted Tom to know that Harry knew exactly what had really happened to poor Naveen.

“Do you think we should visit him in the infirmary?” Myrtle asked quietly as they walked down the corridor, students passing them left and right. “He is a member of the Defence Association. It might be nice to wish him well in person.”

Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out in slightly hysterical laughter. Ah yes, let’s give Naveen even more attention. And then they could all be terribly surprised and shocked when someone found Naveen dead in his infirmary bed the next morning, suffocated with his pillow or something. Harry managed to keep a straight face and he gave Tom another pointed look, which Tom politely ignored. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Harry said diplomatically, knowing full well he really was playing with another student’s life here. Why did he have to make friends with the one student who thought murder was a perfectly acceptable way to express his feelings? “I’m sure Naveen will have plenty of friends who want to visit him.”

“I suppose,” Myrtle said as they descended the stairs. “McClure only allows four visitors at a time anyway.”

Harry was very happy to hear that. That gave him a perfect excuse to never seek out anyone in the infirmary lest Tom do them in permanently.

They settled at their regular table in the library and were soon joined by Annabel and Lukas. Ben and Arnold the Hufflepuffs also found seats at their table before long. And then Orion and Theodorus showed up as well and sat down as though they belonged there. Harry sighed but ignored them. He’d allow them to join them in the library, but he still wasn’t letting them join the DA, no matter how much they tried to bother Harry about it.

Ben, who sat opposite Myrtle, put down his quill and cleared his throat. “Myrtle?”

Blinking, Myrtle looked up from her Charms essay. “Yes?”

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday?” Ben asked, his cheeks flaming red but his eyes shining with determination. Harry silently admired his courage. It was no small feat for a fifteen-year-old to ask a girl out while in the company of his friends.

“Er…” Myrtle seemed entirely taken aback and she glanced at Harry with wide eyes.

“You should go if you want to,” Harry whispered to her, giving her an encouraging smile. Myrtle deserved to go on a date with a nice chap like Ben. It also freed Harry up to follow through with his own plans, if he didn’t have to worry about Myrtle that day.

“Yeah, okay,” Myrtle finally said, still sounding full of doubt, but her smile was absolutely sincere.

“Thanks.” Ben beamed at Myrtle, his whole face full of joy at the idea of going on a date.

“Harriet,” Arnold said, giving Harry an anticipatory smile. “Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

“NO!” A flush of cold panic swept through Harry at the thought of Tom hurling yet another student off the stairs in the name of love. “I mean, sorry, Arnold, but I have plans already.” And Harry leaned a bit to the right and stomped his foot down right on top of Tom’s under the table. Perhaps if he injured Tom’s foot the twat wouldn’t be able to go out to get revenge for this imagined slight.

Tom released a snarl as he quickly drew away from Harry before giving him a wounded look. Harry’s answering glare made it clear that he would not tolerate another murder attempt under any circumstances.

Arnold seemed to only now realize that something was going on between Harry and Tom and he ducked his head, cheeks reddening at once. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized you two were… you know.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said at once, denying nothing lest it enrage Tom to the point of no return. “Apology accepted.”

Tom’s face was carefully blank as he gave Arnold a tight little nod. He shot Harry another wounded glare, as though he couldn’t for the life of him imagine why Harry would physically try to stop him from going out and execute people as he pleased. Harry ignored him and turned back to his Defence essay. He was planning to speak to Tom later that evening, so for now it was best if he gave Tom no encouragement of any kind.

As Harry glanced around their group to make sure no one was getting suspicious of either Tom or Harry, he noticed both Orion and Theodorus giving him speculative looks. Harry wouldn’t be at all surprised if they knew what Tom had done to Naveen, but he wondered if they knew why Tom had done it. Not that it mattered in the end. If they tried to mess with either Harry or Tom they would be in for a surprise, because Harry was sure Tom wouldn’t mind putting them in their place. And neither would Harry, to be honest.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes later, when Harry was just about done with his Defence essay, that it occurred to him that at no point that afternoon Harry had considered calling off his friendship with Tom over his murder attempt.

Once upon a time, when Harry was a teenager the first time around, he’d have been appalled if someone had pushed another person down the stairs, causing them great physical harm, only because someone had shown an interest in Harry.

God, what a naïve little prick he’d been. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at himself for ever having been such a righteous little swot. The years after Hogwarts really had changed Harry to the point that a mild murder attempt wasn’t enough anymore to keep him from wanting to fuck someone else. In fact, if Harry was truly honest with himself, there was a part of him that rather liked it that Tom was so obsessed with Harry, so determined to make Harry his own that he did not hesitate to do away with any competition.

Yes, Harry knew it was wrong what Tom had done and he wasn’t putting up with it in the long run, but he also couldn’t help feeling a bit flattered. It wasn’t every day that your crush showed his interest by way of manslaughter. That took a level of devotion Harry hadn’t encountered in his life before and it made him feel rather good about himself.

The rest of the afternoon went by without any further incidents and when they broke up for dinner, Harry gave Tom an expectant look. “I’ll meet you in the entrance hall to go to detention right after dinner.”

“I’ll be there,” Tom said softly while his brown eyes burned with unbridled desire. Was he thinking about what had almost happened in the stables the previous night? All the drama that afternoon had almost made Harry forget they’d come very close to kissing the evening before, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Fuck, this crush was absolutely getting out of hand. Harry quickly joined Myrtle in the corridor as they made their way to the Great Hall.

“Will you help me Saturday?” Myrtle asked, leaning her head close to Harry’s so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“With what?” Harry asked, nonplussed.

“With using some of those charms for your hair and makeup.” Myrtle gave Harry an urgent look which quickly turned pleading.

“Oh, for your date.” Harry suddenly got all excited on Myrtle’s behalf. His friend was about to have her first date! “Yes, of course I’ll help. I’ll turn you into your best version of yourself, promise.”

“Thanks.” Myrtle seemed to walk on clouds all the way down the castle, a dreamy smile on her face as she all but floated through the hallways. Meanwhile Harry got more and more nervous about his upcoming confrontation with Tom. Harry was sure it would work, but he still couldn’t help the anxious flutters that danced through his body.

After a delicious dinner of bubble and squeak with mushy peas, Harry accompanied Myrtle back to Ravenclaw Tower. He loaded up his Astronomy supplies and swung his bag over his shoulders. That way he could go straight to his class after his detention.

Tom was already waiting for him in the entrance hall, his face a neutral mask as he watched Harry descend the stairs. Strickland was nowhere in sight, but Harry assumed that the man trusted them to make their own way to the stables now that they’d been there once. Without saying a word, Harry followed Tom out of the castle.

It was still light out, though the sun stood low in the sky, barely shining over the tops of the trees.

“We need to talk,” Harry said without any preamble. He gave Tom a narrow-eyed look to make sure Tom knew Harry was being utterly serious.

“Ah.” Tom looked momentarily amused, eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth twitching. But then he carefully schooled his features until they gave nothing away. “You have no proof,” Tom said, nose stuck in the air, as though saying that would someone make Harry reconsider Tom’s guilt in the matter.

“I don’t fucking care,” Harry said with plenty of real venom on his voice. “I don’t appreciate you trying to kill other students for any reason, Tom.”

Yeah, judging by the dead look in Tom’s eyes and the sudden slackness of his face, this was entirely the wrong way to go about correcting Tom’s behaviour. Still, Harry needed to get that out of his system before he could offer Tom the deal he had in mind.

“I’m willing to make a deal with you,” Harry said with a bit of sigh. Really, his life would be so much easier if his love interest wasn’t a homicidal maniac in the making.

That piqued Tom’s interest enough that his eyes started gleaming again. “What sort of deal?”

Harry stared ahead as they strolled across the wide lawn. It was strange that he hesitated, but he did feel as though he was exposing himself by articulating his interest in Tom so obviously. Then again, Tom had been rather obvious with his own interest, so Harry didn’t think he was in for a rejection of sorts. “I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you this Saturday if you promise not to try to kill any other students for any reason this year.”

Tom slowed his pace down, brows furrowing as he mulled Harry’s offer over. “You’ll go to Hogsmeade with me every Hogsmeade weekend for the rest of our Hogwarts careers and I promise not to try to kill any students this year.”

Harry snorted and shook his head. That greedy little bastard. “All Hogsmeade weekends for the duration of our schoolyears and you won’t try to kill anyone during that whole time.”

A slow smile spread across Tom’s face as he looked down at Harry. He appeared nothing but smug, as though he had planned for this deal to happen all along. “That is acceptable. We’ll go to Hogsmeade this Saturday right after the DA and have lunch at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Sure.” Harry nodded his agreement, since there was no reason to disagree.

“And Saturday night we’ll go to the Slug Club together,” Tom added, clearly trying to push Harry to his limits.

“Urgh.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He’d again forgotten about Slughorn’s stupid soirees. “Yeah, fine. But I’m not staying one minute longer than is required to be polite.”

Tom was too busy basking in his imagined victory to care about Harry’s almost dismissal. Harry let him have his little moment, even when he knew none of this had been Tom’s idea in the first place. For all that Tom was someone who loved to meticulously plan certain things, he could also be incredibly impulsive, as the sudden attack on Naveen had proven. Not that Harry could blame him, since impulsivity was Harry’s greatest weakness, as far as he was concerned.

Oh, and his recent interest in would-be killers. That was probably also a weakness of sorts.

They arrived at the stables, where Strickland was waiting for them.

“I have Astronomy at eleven,” Harry said at once, to make sure Strickland knew Harry had to leave well before then.

“That’s fine, Miss Hubble. You’re both here early so we’ll call the detention over and done at ten thirty.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Tom said, looking like a model student again. “Tomorrow evening Professor Slughorn expects us for his first Slug Club meeting. You know how he is.” Tom gave a little shrug while he chuckled and Harry couldn’t help admire his skills at slithering his way out of detention.

“I can let you both off the hook tomorrow,” Strickland said with a knowing smile as he looked between the two of them. “But we’ll add another day to end of your detention.” When Tom nodded his agreement, Strickland waved them both inside the stables, where the giant bottle of milk already stood waiting.

Harry wasted no time and picked up the bottle so he could feed Silver the orphaned unicorn foal. Tom chose a stall right next to Harry to clean, with a huge Abraxan in it, so he could surreptitiously keep an eye on Harry, that obsessive pillock. Harry smiled at him while Silver sucked his bottle, happy that at least for the rest of their Hogwarts days Tom wouldn’t try to kill anyone again. And all it had cost Harry was to spend time with him in Hogsmeade, which wasn’t a punishment at all as far as Harry was concerned.

Honestly, Harry would have spend time with Tom in Hogsmeade completely for free, but hanging out with Tom the Slytherin had taught Harry that it was always a good idea to negotiate for the best possible deal instead of offering things without expecting anything in return.

Harry’s offer to Tom might very well have saved a few lives. Who knew?

Strickland stayed with them as they cleaned and fed the many critters around them, so they had no chance to talk in private. And after their detention was over Harry had to hurry back to the castle, much to his regret.

After Astronomy, Harry fell into bed immediately, exhausted as he was. The next day was Friday, where they had double Defence, double Potions and Ancient Runes. All classes Harry shared with Tom.

What Harry noticed at once as they sat down in the Defence classroom was that Tom seemed calmer, somehow. As though he’d finally gotten what he wanted and didn’t have to spend so much time and energy worrying about it anymore. Tom said nothing about their upcoming date, but he did spend a lot of time smiling at Harry for no reason at all.

Wait a moment. Harry had a date.

How silly was it that it wasn’t until sometime during Defence that Harry understood that he was going on a date with Tom Riddle. It was Harry himself who had suggested it. But at that time it had seemed almost like a hypothetical thing, not something that would actually happen.

Harry Potter had a date with Tom Riddle.

For a moment Harry wanted desperately to be able to tell this to his old friends and watch their shocked reactions. He could only imagine Hermione’s insistence that Harry being a horcrux must have something to do with it. Ron would probably try to convince him he must be under the Imperius or something, even though Harry could resist that curse.

Harry was going on a date with Tom, and Harry couldn’t help himself from feeling completely happy about that. And the more he thought about, the more nervous he became.

That afternoon, after Ancient Runes, Harry joined Myrtle in the third floor bathroom on their way down to the library for a quick pee break.

“You don’t mind me spending the day with Ben, do you?” Myrtle asked as they stood washing their hands side by side.

Harry met Myrtle’s worried gaze in the mirror. “Not at all. I’ve got plans myself. Tom and I are spending the day together.”

“What?” Myrtle spilled water all over her skirt as she raised her soaking wet hands up to her face in shock. “You’re going on a date with Tom? Really?”

“Yeah, really.” A huge wave of anticipation left a tingling trail behind as it moved through Harry’s body. The more he thought about it, the more he really liked the idea of going on a date with Tom.

Behind them a stall opened, door slamming against the wall with a bang. One of the Slytherin students that had accompanied Walburga during her attack on Harry and Myrtle stepped out of the stall and stared at Harry in disbelief. “Riddle is taking a little mudblood like yourself to Hogsmeade?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. He had hoped to keep the news of him going on a date with Tom a secret, but that was off the table now. “Yes, sorry to disappoint you,” Harry said with his sweetest smile, blinking large, innocent eyes at the older girl. “But Tom likes his women talented and not inbred, as it turns out.”

Sputtering, the Slytherin student reached for her wand but Harry was faster. He muttered a curse that covered the girl in oozing boils from head to toe. He was done playing. Harry hadn’t been lying when he’d told Orion that squib descendants were no longer the school’s whipping boys and girls. Harry simply wouldn’t tolerate anyone using the m-word again from then on.

“Come along, Myrtle,” Harry said, leaving the wailing girl behind. “She deserved that,” Harry said once they left the bathroom, lest Myrtle think Harry had suddenly become eager to curse anyone without rhyme or reason.

“Oh, I know,” Myrtle whispered, giving Harry an awed look. “I just wish I had your confidence.”

“It takes a lot of practice,” Harry said honestly. He was well aware that he hadn’t always been the most confident caster either. He’d been stubborn and brave beyond his years, but he’d not really learned to proficiently cast magic in the most efficient ways until he started Auror training. “We’ve got the DA tomorrow,” Harry reminded his friend. “We’ll focus on shield charms and such.”

“With how everyone’s been looking at us, we’ll probably need it,” Myrtle said, much to Harry’s surprise. He hadn’t really noticed anyone looking at them in any worrying ways, but then again, he’d been busy trying to figure out how to keep Tom from murdering the entire student body, so perhaps Harry hadn’t been paying enough attention.

Of course, the Daily Prophet had been printing plenty of opinion pieces for days now, about how those upstart muggleborns needed to know their place in magical society or else they could go back to the muggle world. So yeah, sentiments around the wizarding world were obviously heating up when it came to squib descendants and their recent prominence in the news.

So it only stood to reason that those sentiments could be found in Hogwarts as well beyond Walburga Black’s pathetic attempt at teaching Harry and Myrtle their place.

They reached the library where they joined the usual suspects for a few hours to socialize and do their homework. Tom was the perfect gentleman, making every effort to ensure Harry’s comfort. He suggested books to use for his Transfiguration essay, he lend him his inkbottle when Harry’s ran dry and he gave him smile after smile after smile.

By the end of the afternoon Harry started feeling just a bit flustered from that onslaught of dedicated attention.

“So can we join your student group tomorrow morning?” Orion asked as they all packed their bags to go to dinner.

Harry’s soft, warm mood was instantly vaporized by Orion’s assumptions. Harry inhaled a deep breath and placed his hands on the table so he could lean forward and glare at Orion with all his might. “So you think because you’ve spend three days at our library table while refraining from using the m-word during that time, that you’re suddenly invited to the Defence Association?”

Orion looked genuinely taken aback by Harry’s rather intense reply. “Well, Tom gets to go, so why would you refuse other Slytherins? That’s not fair.”

“Because you’re blood supremacists!” Harry snarled, tired of beating around the bush. “Why the fuck would I teach you all I know, if all you’re going to do is use that knowledge against people like me? People born into the muggle world from two squib descendants. Don’t deny it,” Harry snapped, when Theodorus looked ready to open his mouth and explain to Harry why they weren’t like that. “Tom is a half-blood born and raised in the muggle world, so like the rest of us he needs all the help he can get to find a decent place for himself in the wizarding world.

“You lot are raised with vaults full of gold and mansions to live in and as many tutors as you like,” Harry continued, breathing heavily but unable to shut up now that he was finally voicing his grievances to some of the people at fault for them. “So no, you do not get to join our student group that aims to educate those of us that need help the most because people like you have spent the last few centuries taking our rights away and trying to keep us down!” And with that Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and marched out of the library.

Tom and Myrtle were right on his heels. “I’m not sure that was brilliant or suicide, to confront two heirs of prominent pureblood families like that,” Tom said in a harsh whisper as they all hurried through the corridors.

“It was bloody brilliant!” Myrtle insisted at once, giving Tom a look of vague disgust. “That needed to be said.”

Harry’s stomach was rolling with anxiety. He understood exactly what Tom meant. Harry was very much trying to change the world for squib descendants but up until that happened their society was still ruled by people like Orion and Theodorus’ families. Purposefully pissing them off might do more harm than good for them on the short term. Well, no matter, it was done. And truthfully, it had felt really fucking good to say it.

They reached the Great Hall and dropped the subject as Tom moved to his own table to eat. Harry and Myrtle enjoyed a generous portion of fish and chips, a treat that the house-elves prepared once a month or so. Afterwards they made their way to Ravenclaw Tower where they spent the rest of the evening in their dormitory.

Harry took the time to write down a few shield charms and instructions on how to use them on articles of clothing. Then he copied that piece of paper enough times for every member of the DA. Myrtle spent her time obsessively trying out some of the cosmetic charms Harry had taught her in front of the mirror. Harry eventually joined her and together they mastered the charms they wanted to use the next morning for their upcoming dates.

Harry went to bed and treated himself to a bit of private time with a dildo to celebrate his upcoming date. He had no intention of doing anything intimate with Tom anytime soon, except for a bit of snogging if Tom was up for that, but it didn’t hurt to imagine some of the things Harry hoped to eventually share with Tom. Lots of naked, sexy things that brought Harry many orgasms.

The next morning, both Harry and Myrtle were up at the crack of dawn and took showers before they spent at least an hour in front of the mirror curling their hair and carefully applying makeup charms that gave them a natural kind of beauty without going overboard.

Harry grabbed his bag with his copied instructions and together they headed down to breakfast, Myrtle with nervous little steps and Harry with eager strides.

When Tom spotted Harry sitting at the Ravenclaw table as he walked inside the hall, he almost tripped over a passing Hufflepuff, his attention solely on Harry’s new look. Harry chuckled and flipped his curls over his shoulder before turning his attention towards his slice of toast with marmalade. He enjoyed the practicality of keeping his long hair in a braid most days, but he couldn’t deny the lovely feeling of having perfectly styled long hair falling in curls down his back.

Tom certainly seemed to appreciate Harry’s efforts, since he could hardly keep his eyes off Harry for most of breakfast.

If the whispering around them was any indication, the news that Harry and Tom were going to Hogsmeade together had already spread around the school, probably thanks to the Slytherin girl Harry had cursed. Many students were craning their necks to look at Harry, but since this was nothing new for Harry he just ignored everyone and ate his breakfast without making a fuss.

“You look lovely,” Tom whispered to him when they met up near the door to the Great Hall.

As much as he tried, Harry couldn’t help the flush that came over his face. “Thanks,” he whispered, ducking his head a bit, unsure what else to say. Harry had learned many things in his previous life, but dealing with compliments wasn’t one of them.

Most of the members of the DA were already waiting by the large tree near the lake when Harry, Myrtle and Tom arrived.

Naveen was amongst them, good as new. “My shoelaces were untied,” he told anyone who asked after his recovery. “That is why I tripped. It was a rather silly accident and I feel quite embarrassed about it.”

Harry was at least happy to see that Naveen had made a full recovery and didn’t seem at all aware that someone had purposefully caused him serious harm. As much as Harry resented Tom for his one man attempted murder spree, he also didn’t want Tom to get into trouble and perhaps even face expulsion.

Myrtle was happy enough to take the pile of instructions from Harry and distribute them amongst the students while Harry welcomed everyone to their second DA meeting.

“Today we’re going to practice shield charms,” Harry said with an encouraging smile. When it looked like some students, mostly the older ones, wanted to protest, Harry quickly raised a hand to silence them. “I’ll also teach you how to apply them to your clothing.”

“Wait… you can add shield charms to clothing?” Minerva McGonagall asked. Harry still wasn’t happy knowing she’d ratted them out to Dumbledore the previous week, but then again, Minerva probably hadn’t even realized she might be getting Harry in trouble while telling her favourite professor about all the things she’d learned in her first DA meeting.

“Yes,” Harry said, pleased to see that this seemed to intrigue every student gathered enough that any protests died down at once.

And that is how they spent their DA meeting. First Harry demonstrated the five different shield charms, explaining their differences and their applications. After the students practiced all the charms, mostly with success, Harry showed them how to apply some of them to their clothing, to prevent getting cursed in the back. This was met with lots of happy exclamations, as Harry had expected.

The last half hour of their meeting Harry spent on wandless magic again, where he had everyone practicing blowing over a candle to light it. Much to Harry’s pride, two more students managed it that day. Carolina Pugh, a seventh year Hufflepuff and Dougie Jones, a seventh year Ravenclaw.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Harry told his students at the end of the lesson. “Learning wandless magic takes time, practice and patience. I am convinced that all of you will be able to do it within a few more weeks. Keep practicing!”

Their meeting was barely over when Tom stepped up to Harry. “Are you ready to go?”

Well, someone was certainly impatient to get their date going. Harry gave Tom an amused little smile and slung his bag across his shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Much to his own surprise, Harry was starting to feel a bit nervous as he followed Tom across the lawn towards the gates. Harry wasn’t worried at all. They weren’t that kind of nerves. But Harry realized that going on a date to Hogsmeade with someone he was genuinely interested in was a rather novel experience.

Of course, back in his original fifth year, Harry had taken Cho to Hogsmeade once. That had been an unmitigated disaster, to put it lightly. Harry was a huge ball of hormonal rage at that age, fuelled by the Ministry’s prosecution and Umbridge’s torture detentions. Besides his own precarious state of mind, his attraction to Cho had been superficial at best. Yes, he thought at the time that Cho was pretty and that she was a good Seeker, but that was about all he knew of her. And, to be honest, it had been all he’d cared to know about her. Harry hadn’t exactly gone out of his way even one single step to find out anything else about her.

And none of that took into account that poor Cho had lost her boyfriend Cedric only six months before she decided to accept Harry’s invitation to Hogsmeade. That girl had her own traumas to process and Harry was in no way equipped to help her with that, immature and oblivious as he was at that age.

Yes, in hindsight, Harry was man enough to admit that his date with Cho was something doomed to failure before it had even started. Even if Harry hadn’t been forced to cut his date short to go meet with Hermione and Skeeter, he was sure the day would have ended in disaster in some other way.

Other than Cho, Harry had never taken a date to Hogsmeade during his Hogwarts years. He’d never had the chance with Ginny, since they’d only officially dated for a few weeks at the end of Harry’s sixth year, and Harry hadn’t even spent his seventh year at the castle to begin with.

Of course, after the war there had been plenty of dates between Harry and Ginny, where he treated her to a meal in a nice restaurant or a day out to a Quidditch game, at least early on in their relationship. But by then they were adults, living their lives in the world beyond their beloved school.

So it was still a rather novel experience for Harry now, to actually go on a date to Hogsmeade with someone he knew very well, and who he genuinely liked, warts and murder attempts and all.

Tom Riddle at his best was a handsome, charming, clever young man anyone would love to go on a date with. And it was clear to Harry that Tom was on his very best behaviour, obviously determined to turn their afternoon together into an enjoyable and memorable date.

“I suggest we have lunch first,” Tom said as they passed through Hogwarts’ gates and turned onto the narrow path that led to Hogsmeade. It was lined with wildflowers and bramblebushes, with a few insects still buzzing about in the last days of summer.

“Excellent plan,” Harry agreed while giving Tom a genuine smile. “I’m starving. Afterwards, I only need to get some ink, and perhaps some chocolate from Honeydukes.” Harry’s period would be arriving soon enough and he was determined to have a stash of chocolate at hand to help him through that. He already had a generous collection of pain potions to take off the worst edge, but a little extra chocolate to sooth some cramps had never hurt anyone.

“The Three Broomsticks serves a few delicious lunch options,” Tom said as he carefully measured his steps so he wouldn’t leave Harry in the dust. Tom was a good foot taller than Harry and naturally had a much longer stride. Harry appreciated his efforts. “It will be my treat,” Tom said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Harry wanted to object on principle, since he knew only too well that Tom was a poor orphan. But then he remembered that Tom had made some money during his journey with Newt. “Thank you,” Harry said instead. “Were you able to sell all the snake venom you harvested in Africa?”

Tom frowned for a moment, though Harry had no clue why. Tom had written in his last letter that he’d found someone to buy the venom from him and that his days of poverty were over, at least for a few years. Harry had been very happy for him because he only knew too well how frustrating it was to grow up without a knut to your name. “I haven’t told you,” Tom said, only adding to Harry’s confusion. “I stopped writing letters before we travelled to South Africa.”

“Told me what?” Harry asked, unable to curb his usual curiosity. Tom looked simultaneously full of pride and worried about Harry’s reaction.

“We travelled to South Africa to meet a grootslang, the world’s largest serpent,” Tom said as he glanced down at Harry, who couldn’t help but wonder if there existed a serpent that was actually larger than the basilisk Harry had done away with over the summer. “Unfortunately, one of our guides sent me to the wrong cave and I was attacked by an inkanyamba, a monstrous eel.”

Harry blinked large, worried eyes at Tom, wondering if Tom had been seriously hurt.

Tom must be able to read Harry’s worries on his face, because Tom stopped walking, pushed his robes to the side and pulled his shirt and vest from his trousers, exposing his pale skin that was lined with angry scars the size of daggers.

Before Harry could stop himself, he reached out a hand and stroked his fingers across some of the scars that ran all the way up Tom’s side, clearly outlining a huge jaw of the beast that had bitten him. “For fuck’s sake, Tom, you could have died. It looks like that thing almost ate you whole.”

“I did die,” Tom said in a quiet voice, his face a blank mask when Harry glanced up at him. That was the last thing Harry would ever expect Tom to confess to so easily. The Tom Harry thought he knew would do everything in his own power to avoid mentioning his own mortality. “The beast’s teeth cut me up and I lost a lot of blood. Only Tina’s quick medical intervention saved my life.”

Harry briefly squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to think about Tom almost dying in any way, shape or form. And how ironic was that? Before, Harry had given everything, his own life included, to see Tom Riddle destroyed once and for all, and now he was having a mild panic attack at the thought of this Tom losing his life. Truthfully, Harry couldn’t imagine his current life without Tom in it. He imagined, just for a moment, that Tom was killed for some reason. What sort of dull future awaited Harry if that ever happened? What other person out there could ever hope to challenge and compliment Harry in ways that Tom Riddle was naturally capable of?

Yes, the more Harry considered it, the more he realized he and Tom really were perfectly suited for each other.

“I’m fine now,” Tom assured Harry with a soft smile while he lowered his shirt and tucked it back into his trousers. “After I recovered we tracked down the actual grootslang.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, worried Tom might have gotten harmed again.

“The grootslang itself was very big and very boring, to be honest.” Tom’s mouth quirked up into a sharp little smile. “But it lived in a cave lined with rough diamonds and it let me collect as much as I wanted.” Tom’s brown eyes were full of satisfaction. “I’m not entirely sure how much my diamond collection is worth since I haven’t had a chance to sell any of them yet, but I’m sure I don’t have to worry about money for the rest of my life. The same goes for Newt and Tina and our local guides.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and he started laughing. “I’m so happy for you,” Harry said, meaning every word. “Growing up in poverty is a nightmare. It must be wonderful to have financial security for the future.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Harry. “I thought your father was a doctor? Yet you speak as though you personally know poverty.”

Fuck. That was a very careless slipup, wasn’t it? Harry managed to morph his grin into a reassuring smile. “That blasted war has made beggars of all of us, hasn’t it? We’ve barely had enough to eat over the summer.”

“Yes, I suppose that food restrictions hit everyone equally,” Tom conceded as they resumed walking. For now, Tom seemed to accept Harry’s excuses, but Harry vowed to be more careful in the future. The last thing Harry wanted was for Tom to become suspicious of him.

“Tell me about South Africa,” Harry said, partially to distract Tom, but also because he was genuinely curious about Tom’s adventures. He’d loved reading Tom’s letters full of his detailed descriptions of life in Africa. For the rest of their walk to Hogsmeade, Tom told Harry all about the last two weeks of his travels in Africa, which did indeed prove quite entertaining and informative.

Hogsmeade was full of exuberant students and lots of witches and wizards doing a bit of shopping during one of the last mild weekends of the year. Soon enough the weather would provide only rain and cold winds, so Harry understood perfectly why the average person wanted to get a bit of fresh air in while they still could.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, but Tom quickly charmed a couple of younger Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors to finish their almost empty drinks and give their table to him. Harry sat down while Tom went to the bar to order them some butterbeers and steak and mushroom pies. The students sitting around them were quite loud for the most part, all very happy to be enjoying their day away from school, which limited the conversation Harry and Tom could have while they enjoyed their lunch.

Because of this, they didn’t linger for long after they finished their food and drinks, instead preferring the fresh, outside air to the stifling atmosphere of the overcrowded pub.

Harry led them both to a nearby bookstore, which also sold writing supplies. Harry grabbed a few bottles of ink before he remembered something else he wanted to work on in the upcoming months. Tom followed Harry to the counter without comment after he selected a few quills and some ink for himself.

“Do you have any books on cartography?” Harry asked the young girl behind the counter as he placed his ink down. “Anything about charms used to make interactive maps, perhaps?”

The girl gave him a blank stare in return before shrugging. “You might want to try the Charms section.”

“Right.” Harry managed a rather stiff smile while he placed a few sickles on the counter to pay for his ink. That was utterly useless, since Harry didn’t intend to spend hours browsing various Charms books in the hopes of finding a few useful spells.

“Are you still planning on making a map of Hogwarts?” Tom asked as they stepped out of the shop.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a disappointed sigh, since he was no closer to figuring out how to construct such a map from scratch. He had no clue where to even start, and the only thing Sirius had ever told him about it was that they used a combination of charms and runes to create the original Marauder’s Map, but he never mentioned which charms and runes specifically. “I had the idea over the summer, initially to make sure I could evade certain unsavoury characters,” Harry said, suddenly struck with that bit of inspiration on how to explain why he wanted to create such a map so badly. He couldn’t very well tell Tom it was to prevent a stray Acromantula from invading the Forbidden Forest sometime in the upcoming months. “But since that particularly unsavoury element is no longer a direct problem, I figured that such a map that shows people’s locations might come in handy during our Prefect patrols.”

“It would save lots of time,” Tom said while giving Harry a knowing look and a teasing smile. “And allow us to spend our evenings doing other… more pleasurable things.”

Oh, fuck yeah, Tom was definitely flirting with him, that horny little teenager that he was. Not that Harry could blame him for falling victim to his adolescent hormones. Harry himself was frequently plagued by those as well, after all. “I agree completely,” Harry said, slowly licking his lips as several images of exactly what he’d like to do with Tom in the quiet hours of the evening sprang into his mind. “So you’ll help me create such a map? I’m certain we’ll need a combination of runes and charms to get started.”

Tom briefly bit his lip, looking for a moment as if he wasn’t exactly sure what to say or do next. Then he cleared his throat and gave Harry a small nod. “I’ll be glad to help, of course. I would suggest starting with finding a way to tap into the wards if you want to find a way to constantly monitor everyone’s locations inside the castle.”

“Huh.” Harry frowned as he thought about that suggestion. Tom actually made a pretty good point. “Yeah, that does seem to be a good starting point. And once we manage that, it shouldn’t be too hard to anchor that magic onto a piece of parchment.”

“Exactly.” Tom smiled in obvious satisfaction as they slowly strolled in the direction of Honeydukes. “We can start on that tomorrow. Unless you have other plans?”

“No, I’ve got nothing in my agenda,” Harry said, very amused how Tom effortlessly managed to get them to spend even more time together. He really was a greedy little orphan, wasn’t he?

“It astonishes me now, how I never noticed you before,” Tom said, looking like he was almost as surprised by that confession as Harry was.

“To be fair, I preferred to stay in the background until this summer,” Harry quickly said, because the last thing he wanted was for Tom to make a detailed comparison between Harriet Hubble of the past and Harry as he was now. Too many inconsistencies were bound to come up and Tom was far too clever not to notice them.

“What changed?” Tom asked with a confused frown.

Harry stopped walking to give Tom a careful look, unsure if Tom really couldn’t imagine what had happened to change Harriet Hubble’s outlook on life. “Trauma changes people,” Harry eventually said in a quiet voice. They stood in the middle of the street, people streaming past them on all sides. “Sometimes, the trauma is so great that it cripples people in ways that’s difficult to imagine. But other times, trauma can give people strength they never realized they had in the first place. I like to believe the latter happened to me.”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Tom mumbled with a clenched jaw. “I read that in a Muggle book some years ago.”

Harry swallowed, remembering that poor Harriet Hubble hadn’t found strength in the aftermath of her trauma. She’d only found despair instead. “Yeah, something like that,” Harry whispered and then visible shivered. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Chocolate, for example.” Harry gestured at the other side of the street, where Honeydukes promised many delectable treats. “What’s your favourite kind?” Harry wasn’t just trying to change the subject. He was genuinely curious to learn these small facts about Tom.

“I like dark chocolate,” Tom said without hesitation as they resumed their walk. “But I’m also partial to their milk chocolate bars with caramel and sea salt.”

Harry nodded in understanding. Both of those were fine choices. “I really enjoy their dark chocolate bar with a raspberry mousse filling.”

“A decadent choice,” Tom said, giving Harry an approving smile. “What is your opinion on hazelnut pralines?”

“Delicious in reasonable quantities, but they can quickly fill you up,” Harry said with a chuckle, really enjoying seeing Tom Riddle treat the subject of chocolate as serious as he might treat a challenging magical problem he encountered in one of his classes. “How about dark chocolates with cherry liqueur?”

“Strong but delicious, can become overpowering if consumed in excess,” Tom said with an adorable little frown, which made Harry want to kiss him right there and then. And Harry might have gone for it, if they weren’t suddenly caught up in the small horde of students all trying to enter Honeydukes.

The store was packed, but Tom used his superior height to navigate the many shelves with ease while Harry grabbed hold of his arm so they wouldn’t become separated in the crush of people around them. They both stocked up on an assortment of chocolate and wormed their way towards the counter to pay. Since Harry had his money pouch out already, he quickly paid for Tom’s selections as well and then waved away his objections.

“You treated me to lunch,” Harry said once they were back on the street and he could stuff his many bars of chocolate into his bag. “So I get to treat you to dessert.” Harry held up a caramel and sea salt bar and ripped open the packaging.

“Very well,” Tom finally said, and Harry was happy to see that Tom looked more amused than anything else. It would have been a huge red flag, if Tom had found it difficult to accept that Harry might want to take the lead during their date for a change. That might have pointed towards a pathological need for control on Tom’s part that might have soured Harry’s feelings towards him in the long run. But so far Tom was able to allow Harry to take charge every now and then without any temper tantrums.

Harry almost suggested that they walk towards the Shrieking Shack together, where they would probably find a bit of privacy, until Harry remembered that the Shrieking Shack didn’t exist yet. He broke off a bit of chocolate and offered it to Tom, who accepted it with a small smile. Harry snapped off another bit and slipped it between his lips, sucking gently on the sweet and salty chocolate. Tom seemed mesmerized for a moment as he stared at Harry’s mouth, before he eventually stuck his own chocolate in his mouth, moving it towards the side so that one cheek bulged.

Yeah, no matter what happened that day, Harry vowed he was going to kiss Tom at some point. It was simply ridiculous how obsessed Harry suddenly was by that idea.

“Harry!” Myrtle came running towards them, Ben on her heels. “There are two foreign men looking for you all around Hogsmeade,” Myrtle said in a hushed voice once they met up in the middle of the street.

“What?” Harry stared at his friend with a frown. “What foreign men?”

“There’s two,” Ben said, sounding just a bit out of breath. “One blond one with very pale eyes, and one tall one with a dark beard.”

“They were asking around if anyone knew where they could find Harriet Hubble,” Myrtle added, eyes wide with concern as she looked Harry over a few times. “They asked us as well when we were just leaving the Three Broomsticks. Their accents sounded Hungarian or Polish or something like that.”

Harry stared up at Tom to see if he might have some ideas about what was going on, because Harry honestly had no clue why a couple of Eastern European men might be looking for him.

Tom’s tanned cheeks paled just a bit, which did nothing to put Harry’s mind at ease. And what next came out of Tom’s mouth was enough to make Harry’s heart skip several beaths. “That sounds like it might be two of Grindelwald’s men.”

Myrtle inhaled a shocked breath, both her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“The fuck?” Harry demanded, his whole body suddenly taut with tension. And then he remembered Ruby Baird had published a very controversial letter in the Daily Prophet with Harry’s full name under it and suddenly he wanted to go and find Baird and curse her into next week. The last thing Harry wanted was to draw the attention of the current Dark Lord terrorizing Europe, but Ruby Baird might have just absolutely ruined Harry’s chance to keep flying under the radar.

Tom grabbed Harry’s elbow and pulled him a bit closer. “Thanks for letting us know,” Tom said with a quick, superficial smile aimed at Myrtle and Ben. “We’ll head back to the castle, just to be safe.” And with that, Tom all but pulled Harry away from their friends before Harry could even say goodbye.

“Let me go!” Harry demanded as Tom lengthened his strides to such an extent that Harry had to jog to keep up. “Tom, stop!”

When they reached the end of the village, Tom finally let up and released Harry’s arm. “If those are two of Grindelwald’s men, you do not stand a chance against them.”

“I can fight,” Harry insisted, because he knew he was good enough to duel a couple of flunkies.

Tom blinked a few times, as though confused about what Harry was saying. “I doubt they’re here to fight you, Harriet.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to blink in confusion. “What do you mean? If I somehow pissed off Grindelwald with that stupid letter in the paper, then of course his men are here to teach me a lesson. Why else would they be here, asking for me by name?”

Tom’s lips quirked up and he released a dry chuckle. “To recruit you, of course. Your passionate insistence that there is no such thing as a muggleborn witch or wizard fits very well into Grindelwald’s preferred narrative that Muggles are inferior to us and should therefore be wiped out.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t actually think of anything to say. So he stood there, gaping like a fish while Tom gazed down at Harry with an expression not out of place on a besotted fool. “I will never join Grindelwald,” Harry finally said before swallowing a few times against some bile that suddenly tried to rise up in his throat. The last thing Harry wanted was to tangle with a Dark Lord. Again. “I certainly don’t believe all Muggles should be wiped out or subjugated or something silly like that.”

“Muggles have a tendency to intensely dislike magic,” Tom said quietly while a dark frown appeared on his face. “And plenty of them turn that dislike into violence, if given the chance. Perhaps Grindelwald has the right of it, at least in that area.”

Harry remembered the Dursleys’ reactions to anything magical all too well. Yet he immediately said, “That is only a small percentage of Muggles, Tom. I think it’s a far better idea to create stronger ways to keep both of our societies separated. Tighten the Statute of Secrecy as much as is needed.”

“Perhaps,” Tom said with a noncommittal shrug. That seemed to be as much as Tom was willing to concede at that time, but Harry took it since it was still better than Tom insisting that all Muggles die painful deaths, as he’d eventually done in Harry’s previous life.

Straightening his shoulders, Harry took a look around, but aside from some students walking up the narrow path to return to Hogwarts, they were alone. “Besides, those men might not even have anything to do with Grindelwald,” Harry said, mostly to make himself feel better. He really, really hated the idea of drawing another Dark Lord’s attention in any way, shape or form. “They might just be a bunch of purebloods wanting to teach me a lesson because I’ve proven there is no such thing as muggleborns.”

“Ah yes, because that is a much more preferrable option,” Tom drawled with a roll of his eyes. “A couple of wizards wanting to curse you instead of recruit you.”

Harry gave Tom a cheeky grin. “I much prefer a bunch of blood supremacists acting on their own accord than a couple of flunkies working for a Dark Lord.” Tom snorted in response and shook his head while looking at Harry with eyes full of obvious fondness. “Now, I suggest we return to Hogwarts to avoid any trouble, so we can take a nice stroll around the lake instead.” That way, Harry would have plenty of opportunities to kiss Tom at some point that afternoon without a Dark Lord buggering everything up.

Tom’s gaze drifted down to Harry’s lips and stayed there as he took a step closer. It seemed that perhaps Harry didn’t have to wait very long at all for the opportunity to have a really good snog with Tom Riddle. Harry took a step closer as well, tilting his head up, his long curls falling over his shoulders down his back.

“Are you Miss Harriet Hubble?”

Fucking hell. Why was it that every fucking time Harry came close to kissing Tom they were interrupted.

A blond man with very pale, blue eyes and a tall man with a long, black beard came walking up to them.

Harry half stepped in front of Tom and whispered, “Watch my back.” He trusted Tom completely in that regard and knew Tom, even at this age, was a talented enough duellist that he could help keep two adult wizards at bay. “Who is asking?” Harry called out to the wizards while he lowered his hand and let his wand slip out of it’s holster. He caught it in his palm and grabbed it tightly, but kept the tip pointed downwards for now.

The two men seemed to understand that Harry and Tom weren’t going to come quietly for whatever plans they had for them. The blond one held up his hands, showing they were empty. “We would just like to talk to you, Miss Hubble,” he said in an accented voice that reminded Harry strongly of Viktor Krum. “Our associate was most impressed with your discoveries that the muggles cannot make magical children.”

Fucking hell, Tom was right about everything. Harry sighed and quietly mourned his anonymity. He was going to turn Ruby Baird into a fucking tapeworm. “And who might your associate be?” Harry asked, even thought he already knew the answer. One thing he’d learned as an Auror was to always keep your opponents talking as much as you could. People spilled the craziest secrets that way without even realizing it.

“He wishes to remain anonymous for now, but he is very eager to meet with you,” the blond wizard said with a benign smile that didn’t fool Harry for even one second. “He’s looking for likeminded individuals in this beautiful country.”

In other words, Grindelwald was hoping to persuade Harriet Hubble to help him recruit enough other Brits so Grindelwald could eventually invade Britain. Yeah, that was never going to happen. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to decline your invitation,” Harry said with a vacant expression, as though he didn’t have a clue of what was really going on. “I’m far too busy with school to take any trips right now. It’s my OWL year, after all.”

The one with the black beard narrowed his eyes and in a second he had his wand in his hand.

Harry immediately cast the strongest shield he could, which absorbed the stunner the wizard sent their way. Tom, thankfully, was very good at teamwork and sent a barrage of curses at their opponents. The blond wizard raised his own shield to protect them from Tom’s ongoing volley of magic. Harry renewed his shield and then aimed his wand at the ground. If there was one thing he’d learned during Auror training, it was that you should always play to your strengths. And Harry happened to have the heir of Slytherin standing at his back.

“Serpensortia,” Harry whispered, summoning a large king cobra. “Engorgio,” he added at once, enlarging the cobra until it was bigger than the biggest python that had ever lived.

Tom caught on at once what Harry was trying to do and hissed, “Bite those two men! Kill them!”

The cobra shot forward with a sharp hiss that was as loud as a train’s whistle, their hood flaring as wide as an eagle’s wingspan. But before the cobra could sink their foot-long fangs into the wizards, the blond one cast a fire-curse that consumed the cobra whole. It wasn’t quite fiendfyre, but it was close.

Yeah, those fuckers weren’t playing around, that much was obvious. They were lucky that they weren’t trying to kill Harry and that whatever they sent his way was meant to subdue him. It quickly became clear that they had no such reservations when it came to Tom. A flash of green light flew at Tom, who could only barely duck out of its path. Before Tom could cast in return, a flash of red hit him and sent his wand sailing into the blond wizard’s hands.

Yeah, fuck that. Harry was done with this shit. “Here,” Harry said, quickly pressing his own wand into Tom’s hand. If Tom couldn’t defend himself, he’d be dead in seconds and Harry refused to let anyone kill him. Then Harry concentrated for a moment and transformed into his Animagus form. He no longer cared if anyone knew he was an illegal Animagus, or that his form was that of a male lion.

The second Harry stood on all fours, he roared to give voice to his anger and jumped at the two wizards in one giant leap. The muscles Harry had at his command in this body really were something else. Harry reached the blond wizard before he could even cast a spell at him and sank his large teeth into the man’s shoulders.

The blond wizard cried out and fell backwards while several flashes of light flew over them from both directions. Harry unsheathed his claws and drove them into the wizard wherever he could find flesh while he pulled viciously at the man’s body with his mouth. Somehow, the blond wizard raised his arms and buried his fingers into Harry’s thick mane and then the tight feeling of apparition squeezed Harry through an invisible tube.

The next thing Harry knew was a middle-aged, blond wizard with a face Harry had only ever seen in history books staring down at him with raised eyebrows as Harry mauled the screaming man beneath him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

As Harry slowly released the wizard beneath him, he quickly took stock of the mess he currently found himself in. And he was forced to admit, at least privately, that he’d made one crucial mistake.

Harry had quite forgotten that Tom Riddle was an excellent duellist for his age. But Tom was only fifteen years old, even if he was incredibly powerful and mature for his age. This Tom had not yet been tested in battle before that day. Harry doubted he’d ever before found himself in a duel to the death. Sure, some Slytherins might have cast some painful curses at Tom when they still believed him to be a meaningless little mudblood, but that was probably the worst kind of adversary Tom had faced so far.

Aside from Harry, Tom was the best duellist among the fifth year students, perhaps even among all students currently attending Hogwarts. But Tom was not yet the amazing, undefeatable opponent he’d one day become, capable of duelling Albus Dumbledore to a standstill. Tom was still just a teenager learning magic, no matter how talented he was for his age.

And Harry also had to admit that he’d underestimated the two wizards Grindelwald had sent after him. Harry had thought Grindelwald might have sent his versions of Crabbe and Goyle to deliver a message to a teenage girl. But in reality Grindelwald had sent his versions of Snape and Bellatrix, two individuals who were fast and ruthless duellers, willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. Which included casting a killing curse at a fifteen-year-old boy.

Fuck, Harry hoped Tom was all right. Because seeing that killing curse fly in Tom’s direction had almost sent Harry into a fit of panic. It had certainly turned Harry into his usual self-sacrificing self. He’d given Tom his wand because Tom needed a wand to duel, plain and simple. And he’d shifted into a lion and hurled himself at one of their enemies to give Tom a fighting chance against the other wizard, knowing full well that close contact like that might give his enemy an opportunity to abduct him.

Worth it, if it meant Tom was safe. Harry had to believe that Tom was safe. Harry had to convince himself that Tom Riddle, even at fifteen, was powerful, talented and ruthless enough to do away with one experienced duellist.

Because Harry had no time to waste thinking about Tom. Harry was now faced with a Dark Lord he knew frightfully little about, as ridiculous as that sounded. Harry knew the basics, that Grindelwald had wanted to do away with all the Muggles and had conquered large swaths of Europe until Dumbledore defeated him in a duel. And of course, Harry knew all the sordid details about Dumbledore’s friendship with the man. But other than that, Harry had never been interested to learn more about Gellert Grindelwald, since that particular Dark Lord had been ancient history by the time Harry was old enough to understand what a Dark Lord even was. Besides, Harry had Voldemort to worry about and after his defeat he hadn’t ever felt like studying more Dark Lords. He’d instead tried to never think about Dark Lords again.

He quite regretted that oversight now that Gellert Grindelwald stood there staring down at him in clear confusion. Harry had landed in a large reception room filled with classic dark furniture and leather armchairs. There was nothing that immediately gave away their location, so Harry didn’t even bother trying to guess.

The wizard beneath Harry had stopped screaming. Harry glanced down and noticed that the man had passed out. His chest was still rising and falling, though in a rather shallow manner. A large pool of blood was spreading out around the wizard’s torso, so he probably needed medical attention soon or he’d bleed out completely.

A burst of magic hit Harry and he managed to release one aggravated roar before his body forcibly shifted back into his usual female form.

“Fascinating,” Grindelwald whispered, his head tilted as he took his time studying Harry. “This is probably the first time I’ve met a witch who had such an obviously male Animagus form.”

Harry remained on all fours, leaning over the unconscious wizard beneath him as he looked up at the Dark Lord in front of him. Warm, sticky blood dripped down his chin but Harry hardly noticed it, because there, resting casually in Grindelwald’s hand, was the Elder wand.

Heart skipping a few beats, Harry’s mind raced with possibilities and opportunities to get that wand away from Grindelwald. In his previous life, Harry had died the master of the Elder wand, but he had no idea if in this life he could still be counted as such since he had travelled back in time. His soul was the same, but his body was completely different. Who was the Elder wand bonded to? Harry understood that the situation was far too precarious to risk finding out at that moment because if he got it wrong the consequences would be dire.

Up until that moment, Grindelwald still seemed to only want to convince Harriet Hubble to join him. If Harry engaged him in some kind of duel, Grindelwald’s plans for him would probably change at once, and not for the better. Besides, Harry didn’t even have a wand of his own, since he’d given his to Tom.

Wait a moment. The blond wizard beneath Harry had disarmed Tom! Harry lowered his head, pretending to stretch his body while he glanced around the wizard’s body. There, in his slack left hand, lay Tom’s yew wand. And Harry was convinced that wand would work perfectly for him, at least well enough to help get him out of there.

“I must confess,” Grindelwald said, sounding like he was making pleasant conversation with someone he’d met during a leisurely stroll through the park, “that I have not seen you, Miss Hubble. You are a complete surprise to me, and that in itself is an utterly unexpected occurrence.”

Harry didn’t say anything as he slowly raised his body up so he could sit in a crouch, legs still on either side of the wizard beneath him. He gave Grindelwald a small, amused smile but otherwise he kept his mouth shut. One of the things he’d learned during his days as an Auror was to not ramble on when faced with an enemy, but to keep your tongue to yourself lest you give too much away.

And no matter that Harry was a reckless Gryffindor at heart with an uncontrollable desire to sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat, even Harry wasn’t stupid enough to challenge someone like Gellert Grindelwald to any kind of duel.

Harry might not know much about Grindelwald, but he did remember that the Dark Lord was an expert in all kinds of dark magic and that he was considered one of the best duellists of his time. Even Dumbledore had a tough time defeating him and he’d known Grindelwald’s tactics intimately. Harry, meanwhile, knew nothing about the man’s specific talents with a wand.

No, Harry’s only goal was to get out of there in one piece so he could go back to Tom, who was probably worrying himself sick about what had happened to Harry. If Tom was even still alive that was.

Squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment, Harry banished those thoughts from his mind at once. He could not let those kind of speculations distract him at that time.

Grindelwald seemed amused that Harry refused to talk to him, perhaps writing it off as Harry being terrified of him or something like that. Harry leaned into that particular impression by staring at Grindelwald with wide eyes, meanwhile keeping his Occlumency shields locked down as tightly as he could. He let his right hand dangle beside his body, right above the wizard’s left hand. And then he raised his other hand up to his face as though to wipe away some of the blood that covered his mouth and chin.

Shaking his head, as though disappointed by Harry’s lack of communication, Grindelwald loosely crossed his arms, the Elder wand carelessly dangling from between a few fingers.

Accio wands! Harry thought with all his might, keeping both his hands in position. Tom’s wand shot up and smacked in Harry’s waiting hand and the Elder wand slipped from Grindelwald’s fingers and sailed through the air towards Harry’s outstretched hand.

Eyes widening, Grindelwald released an impotent sound of fury as he stretched out his arm in a futile attempt to get his wand back, but the second Harry felt the Elder wand land in his hand he whispered, “Eta rho.” They were his initials, H and P in the Greek alphabet and they activated the emergency portkey Harry kept around his neck.

It was required of all Aurors to always keep a voice-activated emergency portkey on their persons, and Harry had stuck with that particular bit of wisdom when he’d charmed a bunch of jewellery with shield charms over the summer. The thin, silver necklace he kept around his neck had been turned into a portkey.

A violent yank at his belly told him that the portkey had activated correctly and after a few dizzying tumbles through space and time, Harry landed on his arse somewhere deep inside the forest of Dean. It was always best to have emergency portkeys take you to a completely neutral location, because if you ever found yourself in a situation where you needed to activate it, your home might very well also be compromised.

Harry stumbled to get to his feet, not wanting to linger any longer than he had to. It was difficult, if not impossible, to track portkeys, but Harry didn’t want to take the chance.

Because Harry realized that he’d just painted a target the size of a Hungarian Horntail on his back by stealing one of the Deathly Hallows from Gellert Grindelwald. The Elder wand, even. The unbeatable wand that had definitely helped Grindelwald in his rise to power.

And now Harry, a fifteen-year-old Hogwarts student, had stolen it from him. Summoned it straight from his hand in his own hideout.

Yeah, now that the adrenaline started to wear off, Harry realized that he’d just made his own life that much more complicated.

Fuck his impulsivity. Seriously, fuck that shit.

Still, Harry couldn’t be too upset because he’d just taken one of Grindelwald’s most important tools for world domination away from him, so there was that. Whatever happened next, Harry would deal with it. Besides, Harry spent most of the year at Hogwarts, and Grindelwald would never even contemplate attacking the castle, what with Dumbledore living there.

Harry inhaled a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, concentrating on apparating back to Hogwarts. While it felt like hours had passed, Harry was sure that in reality no more than ten minutes had gone by, if even that. Tom might still even be duelling the other wizard and desperately need Harry’s help. So without further ado, Harry apparated back to the exact spot from where he’d been abducted earlier.

There was no one there. No Tom cursing his enemy into little bits and pieces. And no wizard with a black beard standing triumphantly over Tom’s dead body. Harry slowly turned around, a wand in each hand as he tried to figure out what had happened and where Tom might be. Had he run back to the castle to alert the authorities? Harry doubted it, since Tom was the kind of guy who much preferred to solve his own problems instead of expecting others to do the dirty work.

An arm shot out of nowhere, a hand grabbing Harry’s forearm and giving him an almighty yank. In seconds, Harry was pulled through some impressive wards that shielded Tom and the other wizard from view. Before Harry could see what was going on exactly, Tom pulled Harry close and crushed his lips to Harry’s in a desperate, sloppy kiss.

It was by far the worst kiss Harry had ever had. Even his first ever kiss with Cho, which had been drowned in Cho’s tears, had been a better experience than Tom attaching his mouth to Harry’s in a way that made it clear he was trying to devour Harry.

Harry pulled back and only now noticed that Tom was shaking where he stood, his face pale and his eyes full of burning fury. “Hey, I’m fine,” Harry whispered, raising one blood-stained hand up to Tom’s head, almost poking Tom in the eye with his own yew wand. “I’m fine. Calm down.” And then Harry stood on his tiptoes and caressed his sticky lips across Tom’s in a gentle kiss. When Tom inhaled a deep breath and parted his lips, Harry slowly slid his tongue inside Tom’s mouth and coaxed Tom’s tongue into responding with even, careful strokes.

Oh yeah, that was much better.

Letting his eyes fall shut, Harry only now noticed the metallic taste in both their mouths. It was perhaps telling of the kind of relationship he could expect to have with someone like Tom Riddle that their first kiss was baptized with the blood of their dying enemy.

They stood there kissing for a long time, in the middle of a small field at the edge of Hogsmeade, surrounded by wildflowers and bramblebushes and one squirming wizard who looked like he’d been tortured excessively with the cruciatus curse.

Harry finally pulled back and inhaled a deep breath. All the adrenaline that had fuelled the last half hour was gone now and his body trembled as the shock wore off.

Tom licked the blood off his lips carelessly, and looked Harry over top to bottom as he took a step back.

“Got your wand,” Harry said with a bright smile, face still smeared with blood. He proudly held up Tom’s wand and offered it to him handle first.

“Thank you,” Tom said with genuine gratitude. “Yours worked very well for me.” And Tom exchanged Harry’s wand for his own.

“Oh, and I stole Grindelwald’s wand,” Harry said, almost as an afterthought as he slid his own wand back in its holster. He didn’t want to know what kind of spells Tom had just cast with it, aside from the very obvious cruciatus curse.

“You did what?” Tom asked, eyes wide as he stared at the Elder wand in Harry’s hand. The handle was smeared with blood, but that didn’t stop Tom from gently plucking it from Harry’s fingers so he could examine it a bit better. “This is Grindelwald’s wand? It looks old.”

Harry shrugged, since he wasn’t yet ready to divulge that particular secret to Tom, especially not with an enemy laying on the ground nearby. “Might be a heirloom. But it’s definitely his, since I summoned it right from his hand just before I activated my emergency portkey.”

“So that is how you got back,” Tom mused with a curious look as he handed the Elder wand back to Harry. “I had wondered if you could apparate, and if not, how you were going to find your way back.” Tom kicked against the wizard’s hip, drawing a small groan from him but the man still seemed mostly out of it. “I tried getting your location from this useless tosser, but he kept mum even under the cruciatus curse.” Tom seemed entirely oblivious that he’d just confessed to using an unforgivable curse, but that could perhaps be explained by the shock he’d been through.

“Yeah, I have no clue where I ended up. Somewhere in mainland Europe, though it can’t have been too far away,” Harry said with a shrug, running the Elder wand absently through his sticky fingers. “That bastard was able to apparate me to Grindelwald’s hideout even as he was bleeding out.”

Tom gave Harry a disbelieving look. “Are you sure he didn’t use a portkey instead? It seems impossible that one could apparate while a full-grown lion is gnawing on their neck.”

Harry released a dry chuckle. “You’d be surprised what desperate people can accomplish while the adrenaline is the only thing still keeping them in the land of the living. I’m guessing he desperately hoped Grindelwald would be able to save his life, but I’m not sure any help for him came in time in the end.”

Tom nodded in understanding and then frowned while he gave Harry a sideways glance. “How long have you been an Animagus? Because that is what that transformation was, right?”

“Yeah, I became one this summer. This was only my second time transforming,” Harry said with a small sigh. There was no denying it now, but perhaps it was for the best that he’d revealed his Animagus form instead of engaging those two wizards in an advanced duel with spells and curses he couldn’t so easily explain away. It wasn’t impossible for a fifteen-year-old to become an Animagus, but it was a lot less likely that a fifth year student knew Auror level duelling tactics. Yeah, in hindsight, Harry had made the right decision, even in the heat of the moment. “The process wasn’t even that difficult,” Harry continued since Tom kept looking at him with a dubious frown. “It’s just complicated and requires careful timing of just about every step. But you could easily learn it as well.”

“Really?” Tom blinked and straightened up a bit as he contemplated that idea. “Perhaps I’ll try it, then. You can give me some pointers.”

“Gladly,” Harry said with a smile, because he really hoped Tom would become an Animagus as well. Harry couldn’t wait to see what he’d turn into. Hopefully not something predictable like a snake of some sort.

“What should we do with him?” Tom asked, kicking the squirming wizard again.

Harry stepped up to the man and leaned over him, using a bit of Legilimency to take a look into the man’s mind. Yeah, Tom’s cruciatus curses had done a lot of damage, most of it probably permanent. Tom must have been blind with rage to cast such strong curses that completely shredded the wizard’s mind. “He’s useless,” Harry said, because any information they might still be able to get from him wasn’t to be trusted since the man’s mind was in tatters. “Best to give him a clean end.” And without pause, Harry aimed the Elder wand at the man’s neck and whispered, “Sectumsempra.”

Blood spurted from the gaping wound, coating both their robes and shoes as the wizard gurgled a few times before his body went limp.

“I find it curious,” Tom said, voice oddly without emotion while his expression was completely blank. “That you all but blackmailed me into never even attempting murder for the rest of my Hogwarts days, yet here you are executing that man without a second thought.”

“You threw an innocent student down the stairs, Tom, almost breaking his neck,” Harry said as he glared up at Tom with narrowed eyes. “This fucking bastard cast a killing curse at you. He deserved it and much worse.” And Harry meant that. Once upon a time he might have been in innocent little swot opposed to killing of any kind, but he’d since grown up and realized the world wasn’t black and white. It was better the kill an enemy like this than to let him live and give Grindelwald an opportunity to learn things about Harry and Tom. Like their willingness to use unforgivable curses. Such information could easily be used against them. No, it was much safer in the long run to simply get rid of a dead body than to return a living enemy to their Dark Lord.

Harry swished the Elder wand around and transfigured the corpse into a rotting log. Then he levitated a small rock, turned it into a portkey and dropped it onto the log, sending it straight into the North Sea.

“That’s certainly an efficient way of dealing with an enemy,” Tom said in a rather dry tone, though his brown eyes burned with desire as he stepped closer to Harry.

“Glad you approve,” Harry whispered, raising himself up on his tiptoes again. He’d absolutely deserved a kiss or two. Or ten. Their lips met halfway as they leaned closer and Harry sighed into their kiss. Tom certainly was a fast learner and the way he swirled his tongue around Harry’s slowly drove Harry to utterly arousing heights. A small moan escaped Harry as he pressed his body against Tom’s, eager for more contact.

It was only then that Harry remembered that they were standing in public, both covered in blood, though they were still protected by Tom’s excellent wards. But wards could be broken and Harry had no idea if Myrtle had perhaps alerted any staff at Hogwarts or if someone had witnessed their duel with Grindelwald’s henchmen. Their priority now was to clean up the crime scene and do away with any other evidence.

Harry pulled back from the kiss with no small amount of regret. He wanted to keep kissing Tom for at least the rest of the afternoon, and perhaps even well beyond that. But he also didn’t want him and Tom to end up in Azkaban anytime soon, so cleaning up it was.

“Let’s get rid of all the blood,” Harry said as he pulled his cypress wand out of its holster. Casting a bunch of cleaning charms would help to clear away any traces of the curses Tom had cast using Harry’s wand. Together they cast cleaning charms across the patch of grass, getting rid of all traces of blood, no matter how small. Afterwards, Harry waved his wand over Tom, cleaning his clothes and hands and face, because kissing Harry had smeared streaks of red all over Tom’s chin and cheeks.

Then Tom did the same for Harry, taking his time to gently scrub away any of the blood that coated most of Harry’s clothes. The magic left a fresh tingle behind on Harry’s face and hands and he was happy to feel clean again.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Harry said, grabbing hold of Tom’s robes and pulling him closer. “Because I think I deserve a kiss after stealing a Dark Lord’s wand.”

Tom’s mouth quirked up in a one-sided grin before he pressed his lips against Harry’s in an eager kiss. Yeah, kissing Tom was much better without the taste of blood in both their mouths. Harry wound his hands in Tom’s hair and Tom wound his arm around Harry’s back and they stood in a tight embrace while they explored each other’s mouths.

It was hard to believe, Harry mused, that this amazing young man had the potential to become a soulless monster like Voldemort. Tom was so warm and alive against Harry’s willing body. So eager to find pleasure in someone else’s embrace. Tom really was so very well suited for Harry, more than willing to put up with all of Harry’s little idiosyncrasies. And, more importantly, Tom was pragmatic enough that he didn’t even blink an eye when Harry killed a man right in front of him.

Yeah, whatever kind of crush Harry had on his former enemy was definitely morphing into more than that.

More students started emerging from Hogsmeade, all turning into the narrow path that led back to Hogwarts, which swerved right beside the small field where Harry and Tom stood snogging.

“We should probably head back,” Harry said as he pulled away, his lips tingling as he licked them. “We can always find a nice, private spot somewhere on the grounds to continue this.”

Tom nodded and only now did Harry notice that his cheeks were flushed, which made him look rather adorable. It only took a few moments for Tom to dismantle the wards, revealing them to the world, though there was no one to see them appear again.

As they started walking up the path, Harry reached for Tom’s hand and wound their fingers together. Tom frowned for a moment, as though he wasn’t sure what Harry was trying to accomplish, but then he gave Harry’s hand a soft squeeze and held on with steady fingers.

“I’m not sure what we should do,” Harry said quietly, even though there was no one near to overhear them. “Should we alert the authorities that Grindelwald had agents roaming around in Hogsmeade?”

Tom squeezed Harry’s hand again, a little harder this time. “I don’t think that’s a very smart idea.”

“Why not?” Harry glanced up at Tom in confusion. Surely they should at least let Dippet know there were enemies circling the castle, as it were.

“Harriet,” Tom said with a patient look, though he sounded completely serious. “It would draw far too much attention to you from our own government. Your own politics might convince the British government that you already are an agent working for Grindelwald.”

“Huh.” Harry honestly hadn’t considered that option, but perhaps he should have. After all, Harry was intimately familiar with the British Ministry’s ability to jump to the complete wrong conclusions and lock away innocent people all in the name of security. And the Ministry was filled with purebloods who might enjoy nothing more than getting rid of one mudblood nuisance by painting her as a willing spy for Grindelwald. “Yeah, okay, I can see why it might be best to pretend we’re clueless about anything Grindelwald.”

“Good. If anyone asks, we heard rumours there were men looking for you, but we didn’t stick around long enough to find out who they were,” Tom said as they strolled on, still holding hands.

Harry considered the whole messy situation for a while. “Grindelwald is not going to accept this defeat, though,” Harry finally whispered, knowing only too well how important the Elder wand was to Grindelwald. Not to mention that Harry had managed to kill one, perhaps two, of Grindelwald’s followers. Yeah, Harry could only imagine how genuinely pissed off Grindelwald was at that very moment. “We should practice duelling,” Harry suggested, because it never hurt to practice and this way Harry could teach Tom how to properly duel. And Tom’s innate power and talent would do the rest, so that soon enough Tom truly would be a force to be reckoned with.

“I would love that,” Tom said at once, giving Harry a bright little smile. “We can use that very useful room for that.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed at once, since Harry’s mind was suddenly full of enticing images of the many things he wanted to do with Tom in the Room of Requirement. Yeah, those had to wait until a bit later. They’d only just kissed and they weren’t even officially dating. Though Harry doubted that Tom would not want to officially date him at this point. “How about we meet there tomorrow, so we can work on the map there and do a bit of duelling.”

“It’s a date.” Tom leaned over and sealed their promise with a quick kiss. Yeah, Tom was such a possessive man that he’d never let Harry go again now that they had physically confessed their interest in each other. Not that Harry minded. It really was rather astonishing how quickly Harry had forgotten about his previous life in many ways.

Harry still frequently remembered that once upon a time a version of Tom had turned into Voldemort. But that hadn’t been this version of Tom. No, Harry’s Tom as he was now was a young man with unlimited potential now that he’d been spared a number of pitfalls thanks to Harry’s anonymous interventions.

Harry also still remembered his old friends. He missed Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Luna and Neville and all his Auror colleagues. But they were in the past. Harry had new friends now, that fit into his new life. Because there was no going back, Harry knew that. There was only going forward in this world and this time. And that meant new friends and a new love interest and Tom was best suited for the job.

There was no one else who could understand Harry like Tom could, and vice versa. They’d just duelled enemy wizards, and tortured and killed and did away with a pile of evidence that would see them both sentenced to Azkaban for a very long time. And they hadn’t passed judgement on each other for any of it. They accepted what needed to be done to keep each other safe. And that was what Harry truly needed in a partner.

“You’re my boyfriend, just so you know,” Harry said out of the blue, because he wanted Tom to know that this thing between them was much more than a silly little fling. “And I’m your girlfriend. If you have any objections, now is the time to speak up.”

Tom chuckled and shook his head. He stopped walking and pulled Harry closer so he could smile down at him. “You are mine now, Harriet Hubble. And I protect what is mine. Grindelwald will have to go through me to get to you.”

Big words spoken by a fifteen-year-old, Harry thought with a sappy smile. It was all in all a rather naive statement, but Harry appreciated the sentiment, because he knew that whatever happened, Tom would at least try to take care of him now. And Harry would do the exact same thing for Tom, including letting himself be kidnapped by dark wizards, as the afternoon had proven. Yeah, it was rather amazing how dedicated to each other they’d already become in such a short period of time. Because Harry was certain that Tom would not easily give up on Harry now. Tom had always been a very possessive type of person, even as Voldemort. As a hormonal teenager, he probably was even worse.

Harry pulled his boyfriend in for another good snog right there and then in the middle of the narrow path and they didn’t pull back until they heard giggling behind them. A couple of third year Ravenclaws stood there, flushed with satisfaction after their first time visiting Hogsmeade. They stared between Tom and Harry with wide eyes and then giggled some more.

“Please, don’t let us stop you,” Tom said, stepping to the side to let the other students pass them.

“So the whole school will know by dinner time that we’re dating,” Harry whispered, though he felt more amused than anything else. In a boarding school it was inevitable that others quickly discovered any new young couples.

“Good,” Tom whispered back, his face set in a pleasant expression as he stared after the other students. “That will probably help to keep others from trying to poach you.”

“I’m not a bloody rabbit, Tom,” Harry said with a laugh. “Nobody is poaching me anytime soon.”

“No, you’re a lion instead.” Tom leaned down and grinned against Harry’s curls before brushing his lips across Harry’s temple. “You eat those that try to hunt you.”

For some reason, that statement sent delicious shivers down Harry’s back. He quickly pulled back from Tom, lest he push his boyfriend down into the grass right there and then to have his wicked way with him. “I wonder what that makes you.”

“Either very brave or very foolish, to get so close to someone who could eat me whole.” Tom’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he gave Harry an almost daring grin.

“I don’t want to eat you whole,” Harry said, because he was a Gryffindor at heart and couldn’t deny a challenge when he saw one. “Perhaps swallow down certain parts of you at some point in the future, but that’s about it.”

Tom inhaled a sharp breath, clearly shocked that Harry would say something so obviously sexual in nature. Then his face broke out in a wide grin full of gleaming teeth. “It is a pity that we have to attend the Slug Club tonight, or else I might have to take you to the Room of Requirement right after dinner to put those words to the test.”

Tom might as well have poured a bucket of cold water over Harry, because Harry sobered up at once, his arousal instantly ebbing away. “Fucking hell, I’d completely forgotten about that.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Harry grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled him along towards the gates in the distance.

Tom, that ridiculous tosser, laughed at Harry’s sudden sour expression. “It’s remarkable that you face a Dark Lord without batting an eye but that the mere mention of an innocent social event gets you all worked up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry grumbled, studiously not looking at Tom. This was one thing he could not explain to Tom at that point. The only explanation that Harry could come up with was that he’d been dealing with Dark Lords since he was 11 but he’d never had to socialize with strangers in official settings much at all during his Hogwarts years. And after he left school Harry had avoided social events like the plague. Of course, he could tell Tom none of that since Tom thought Harry was a 15 year old muggleborn witch.

Hmm. Now that Harry thought about that it suddenly felt a lot like deception. As though Harry was now purposefully deceiving Tom by keeping up the charade of being just a teenage witch and not a time travelling adult Auror who’d once defeated a Dark Lord version of Tom himself. The last thing Harry wanted to do was to deceive Tom in any way, but he also was well aware that telling Tom the actual truth might have dire consequences, not just for Harry but perhaps even for the wizarding world.

Tom leaned a little closer as they approached the gates. “I will keep you safe from all the dangerous guests Slughorn is bound to invite, don’t you worry.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry glanced at his brand-new boyfriend. When you put it like that, Harry realized he was being rather dramatic about what should be a few hours of chatting and mingling with students and some adult guests.

Tom wasn’t done with teasing Harry just yet. “If the aperitifs or the main course tries to do you in, you need only call my name and I will curse them into oblivion to save my favourite damsel in distress.”

Snorting, Harry shook his head as they walked through the gates. “I’m a lot of things, Tom, but I have never, ever been a damsel in distress. I’m just a lot more comfortable cursing strangers than socializing with them.” The moment that left Harry’s mouth he wondered what the fuck had happened to him in his past life to turn him into someone like that. Because no matter how Harry turned that sentence around in his head, it remained the absolute truth.

Tom threw his head back and released a sharp bout of laughter. “Did the sorting hat offer to sort you somewhere else, perhaps? Gryffindor? Slytherin?”

“Gryffindor may have been on the table,” Harry said vaguely and briefly stopped walking. They were inside Hogwarts’ wards again, which meant that they were safe. For now. Grindelwald couldn’t touch them as long as they stayed at Hogwarts. “Let’s walk around the lake,” Harry suggested, pulling Tom along.

Tom came willingly as Harry marched towards the lake to their left. “Perhaps I should have guessed your secret Gryffindor nature, since you do turn into an actual lion.”

“It came in handy, didn’t it?” Harry said, because he did not want Tom to analyse him too closely. Tom was far too clever and he was bound to figure out the many discrepancies when it came to Harry’s current identity. “What animal do you think you’ll turn into once you become an Animagus?”

“I have honestly never considered that question before,” Tom said while a small frown tugged on his brows. He stared ahead as he strolled alongside Harry across the wide lawn. There were small pockets of students spread out around the grounds but there was no one nearby to overhear their conversation. “Becoming an Animagus always seemed so useless to me, though your recent transformation has certainly changed my mind on that.”

“Useless? Really?” Harry for the life of him couldn’t understand how anyone could think of such amazing magic as useless.

“You can’t cast actual magic while you’re an animal, so yes, it is rather useless,” Tom said, clearly confused why Harry would even question him about that.

“But you might be able to do something you can’t as a human,” Harry said quickly, slowing his pace so he could stare up at Tom’s face. “You might turn into a bird and be able to fly. Imagine how amazing that would be.” Harry had loved being a red kite in his previous life, flying without the use of magic.

Tom gave Harry a look that was both endearing and exasperated. “If I wanted to fly I would only have to climb on a broom. And I’d still be able to use my wand while I was flying. As an actual bird one would be fairly vulnerable to several types of threats and unable to defend yourself against them.”

“Ah.” Harry licked his lips as he considered Tom’s arguments. Tom’s line of thinking probably went back to his fear of death and his need for absolute control over his own life. “But you do want to become an Animagus now, right?”

“Yes. Until I saw you rip into that wizard with your teeth and claws I hadn’t considered that becoming an animal might actually help to keep oneself safe.” Tom gave a brief shrug, as though changing his mind like that was barely worth mentioning.

“We can get started on that tomorrow, after we duel.” Harry gave Tom a bright smile, looking forward to sparring with Tom and teaching him all he knew. “We might have to sneak into the greenhouses beforehand for a Mandrake leaf, though.”

“Why?” Tom asked, briefly glancing into the direction of the greenhouses with a dubious frown.

“Because the first step to becoming an Animagus is keeping a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month.” Harry watched carefully as Tom looked at him as though Harry was playing a particularly distasteful prank on him. Snorting with laughter, Harry managed to say, “It’s true, I swear.”

Tom stopped walking and pulled Harry against him. “But how will I be able to do this if I’m stuck with a leaf in my mouth.” And before Harry could say anything Tom lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips that quickly turned into a deep, demanding kiss with plenty of tongue. Harry went with it because kissing Tom was amazing. In fact, the more they kissed, the better it seemed to get. Tom really was a very fast and enthusiastic learner.

“With lots and lots of practice,” Harry whispered when Tom finally pulled back. “We’ll have to snog every free moment of every day, obviously.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” Tom the horny teenager said while his eyes were burning with obvious desire. Then he glanced at something in the distance and quickly stepped back from Harry, putting some distance between them. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Dumbledore and Merrythought walking side by side across the lawn in the direction of the gates.

Ugh. The last thing Harry wanted was a lecture from Dumbledore about proper conduct befitting a young witch or something silly like that. “Come on.” Harry grabbed Tom’s hand again and they hurried towards the edge of the forest nearest to the lake.

“You once said that a Patronus charm can be used to send messages,” Tom said once they reached the gravelly banks of the lake. There was little wind so the water was calm with barely any waves.

“Yeah, it’s dead useful,” Harry said without much thought, staring down as the water licked at his shoes. He considered finding a nice, flat rock to use for skipping across the water. “It’s much faster than sending an owl and more discreet than using the floo to talk.”

“I was just thinking,” Tom said softly, even carefully. “If I were a Dark Lord I’d be rather upset if someone stole my wand. Enough so that I’d probably want vengeance in whatever way I could manage.”

A brief shiver ran down Harry’s back at hearing Tom consider being a Dark Lord, even in an entirely hypothetical way. “I doubt Grindelwald will have the nerve or power to attack Hogwarts,” Harry said while giving Tom a reassuring smile. It made sense that Tom would be nervous about any sort of future confrontation with Grindelwald. Hell, even Harry was nervous about that, too, if he was honest with himself. It was one thing to snatch away Grindelwald’s wand before portkeying the hell out of there. It was another thing entirely to perhaps face the man in a duel at some point in the future.

“I know we are safe here,” Tom said as he stared down at Harry with narrowed eyes. “But your family are muggles, aren’t they? They’re defenceless.”

It was as though a great rock suddenly slammed against Harry’s chest, instantly driving all the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, one after the other, but for some reason he could not get enough oxygen and he became lightheaded.

“Harriet,” Tom said, voice sounding as though he suddenly stood a great distance away. “Please, calm down.”

Harry had a family. Harry had a muggle family.

In his past life Harry never had to worry about his family. Yes, there were the Dursleys, but they were well protected by bloodwards and later the Order of the Phoenix. Not that Harry considered them family anyway. All the people Harry cared about, actually considered family, were there with him during the war. Yes, he’d lost some of them, such as Sirius and Fred, and even to an extent Lupin and Tonks. But Harry had never had to worry about them in particular because they were all witches and wizards. They could all fight and defend themselves against vengeful Death Eaters or even Voldemort himself.

But Harry had muggle family now who were none the wiser that Harry had just stolen Gellert Grindelwald’s most prized possession. That Harry had pissed off a Dark Lord who wanted all muggles dead anyway and who would have no qualms about torturing and killing the muggle parents of the girl who had almost accidentally dealt him his biggest defeat yet.

“Fuck,” Harry gasped, grabbing hold of Tom’s robes with desperate hands. “Tom, fuck.”

“Breathe,” Tom said as he held Harry’s upper arms and squeezed gently. “You can send your Patronus, right? To warn them?”

“That won’t help.” Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could, willing his body to stop panicking. Keeling over from a lack of oxygen because Harry had somehow forgotten how to breathe wasn’t going to fix anything right now. “I doubt they’d take me serious if I told them to get the hell out of there.”

Tom seemed to consider this for a moment before he gave a short nod. “I take it they have no idea who Grindelwald is and what he is capable of?”

“Exactly.” Harry’s breathing slowed just enough that talking was possible again, though Harry still felt as though he was on the verge of suffocating right there and then. He had parents now. He finally had parents, had a family of his own that cared about him, and he was about to lose it all because of his own stupid actions. “Fleamont!” Harry blurted the second he remembered he had another family as well, however distantly. “Charlus is an Auror! I’ll send them a Patronus.” Harry yanked his cypress wand out of its holster with so much force that the Elder wand fell out as well and landed in the shallow water. Harry bent down so fast to grab it that he would have fallen into the lake headfirst if Tom hadn’t pulled him back.

“Calm down,” Tom said, voice firmer now, his tone commanding. “You have a plan. Calm down and stop panicking.”

Harry curled his fingers around both the wands in his hands and tried to remember every single lesson he’d ever learned during Auror training. Breathe. Just breathe. The first step in any conflict is to always stay calm and carefully consider your options. All Harry had to do was send a Patronus to the Potters and they would go get his muggle parents and put up wards around Harry’s childhood home.

Aiming his wand at the reeds around them, Harry whispered, “Expecto Patronum.” He forced his mind to remember the feeling of Tom’s lips on his own, how eager Tom was to kiss Harry and how besotted he always looked when staring into Harry’s eyes. A silverly lioness sprang from Harry’s wand and prowled around them, giving Tom a suspicious look.

“How fascinating that Grindelwald’s wand works so well for you. A Patronus Charm is a very complicated bit of magic to cast with a stranger’s wand,” Tom mused as he stared at the Elder wand in Harry’s hand with raised eyebrows.

Fuck, Harry hadn’t even realized he’d used the Elder wand instead of his cypress one. “I won it, I suppose,” Harry mumbled, not meeting Tom’s eyes as he stared at the lioness. “I’ve read that once you win an opponent’s wand it will be loyal to you from then on.”

“Really?” Tom sounded utterly enthralled by that bit of information.

Meanwhile, Harry was racking his brain to come up with something to tell Fleamont and the rest of the Potters. He couldn’t tell them the truth, obviously. For many reasons. It would draw too much attention to himself and his sudden magical talents. But if Charlus learned that Harry had Grindelwald’s wand, he’d probably confiscate it as evidence or something. And the last thing Harry wanted was for the Elder wand to be kept at the Ministry where anyone might get their hands on it, including people loyal to Grindelwald himself, willing to steal it back for him.

No, Harry was going to have to be creative with the truth here. “Fleamont,” Harry said while he stared at the lioness with narrowed eyes. “Some servants of Grindelwald approached me and my friend Tom Riddle this afternoon in Hogsmeade. They were very forceful about getting me to meet with Grindelwald, to join him. We were able to fight them off long enough to escape back to Hogwarts. But I’m worried about what Grindelwald may do to my parents in retaliation of my dismissal. They’re muggles, Fleamont, and they wouldn’t stand a chance against him if Grindelwald tried to use them as leverage. Please, get my parents to safety and put up some wards. Please!”

While Harry spoke, Tom had slid his arm around Harry’s shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze. How fucking ironic was it that Tom the socially stunted orphan had remembered that Harry had muggle parents who were in acute danger while Harry himself had happily spent the afternoon snogging Tom while completely forgetting about his current family. In Harry’s defence, he’d never had to worry about a family before while dealing with a Dark Lord, but Harry’s stomach was still heavy with guilt at the thought of causing his parents harm, no matter he never meant for that to happen.

“Can you send your lioness to Newt and Tina as well?” Tom asked quietly after Harry gestured at the lioness to hurry along. “I don’t know if Grindelwald has any idea I even exist, but I did bring down and torture one of his henchmen and I’d rather Grindelwald not take that out on the only family I’ve ever known.”

“Of course.” Harry’s breathing was normal again, the acute panic he’d felt subsiding now that he’d sent for help. He cast another Patronus and said, “Newt Scamander, my name is Harriet Hubble and I’m a friend of Tom. This afternoon we had a confrontation with some of Grindelwald’s servants which ended on a rather negative note. We are currently safe at Hogwarts but Tom is concerned Grindelwald might seek you and your family out to exact some revenge. Please watch your back.”

“Perfect,” Tom said and Harry sent off his lioness to warn Tom’s family. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, still feeling rather jittery even though he’d alerted the cavalry, as it were. His happy, warm and victorious mood from earlier was long gone. The more Harry considered the whole situation, the more he realized that he really had made a mess of things. The Elder wand was probably the one thing Grindelwald treasured most in the world and Harry had snatched it right out of his hand. There was nothing Grindelwald wouldn’t do to get the Elder wand back. He might try to kidnap Harry’s parents or siblings, to hold them for ransom until Harry gave him his wand back.

The problem with that was twofold. First, even if Harry gave him his wand back, Grindelwald wouldn’t let Harry’s family go. He’d kill them and probably spend the rest of his life hunting Harry, the young witch who had so openly defied him. And secondly, it was rather important that Grindelwald didn’t get the Elder wand back. Using the Elder wand made Grindelwald even more powerful than he already was. Not to mention that Grindelwald getting the Elder wand back meant that in a few years Dumbledore would become the new owner of the unbeatable wand. And what with Harry now knew of Dumbledore, he didn’t want him to end up with such a legendary and powerful wand. Harry was certain that everyone was much better off if the wand stayed hidden while Harry kept it safe.

“I could do with some tea,” Tom said with a soft smile and Harry blinked up at him. “Shall we go have a cuppa in the great hall?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Harry really needed to sit down for a bit somewhere and a cup of tea would do them both good. Tom reached for Harry’s hand and led him away from the water. They didn’t speak as they crossed the wide lawn as Harry’s mind was completely occupied with worry about his family. Had he done the right thing by alerting Fleamont? Should he do more? Should he tell Dippet about what happened, get the authorities involved even if that put Harry himself at risk of prosecution from the Ministry?

Or should Harry himself hurry home and protect his family with his own wand?

The moment that thought entered his mind, Harry knew that was what he had to do. There was no one better than Harry himself to defend his family. Harry was sure he was a much better duellist than Fleamont and perhaps even Charlus, so if he came across Grindelwald he stood a better chance. He could sneak out using the secret passageway to Honeydukes, apparate home and convince his parents to get the hell out and lay low with Evelyn’s witch sister for a while. A very long while. Carole was an Unspeakable. She was bound to have formidable wards around her Essex cottage where she lived by herself.

But would his parents even believe him if he showed up out of the blue with dire warnings of evil Dark Lords? Martin was a doctor, the only one in Swansand-upon-the-sea. He wasn’t going to abandon the people that depended on him just because his daughter burst through the door in a panic.

“You’re considering going to save your parents by yourself, aren’t you?” Tom asked in a quiet voice when they reached the castle.

Harry snapped back to reality with a shocked gasp, immediately checking his Occlumency shields. They were firmly in place, had been for the whole day. “How the fuck do you know that?” Harry demanded, suddenly worried Tom might know more magic than Legilimency that gave him the ability to read minds.

Tom offered him a tight little smile that seemed barely amused. “I know you by now, Harriet. You are without a doubt the most impulsive person I have ever met. Running off to face the Dark Lord by yourself is exactly the kind of thing you’d do. Have done already earlier today.”

“That isn’t…” Harry snapped his mouth shut as he realized that Tom was in fact correct about his assessment of Harry’s personality. “Fine. I was considering going home, but I doubt it would do much good.”

“They wouldn’t believe you,” Tom said with a look full of sympathy.

Harry nodded. There was of course always the Imperius Curse, but Harry didn’t dare cast that on his parents to send them to live with an Unspeakable. Aunt Carole might notice something wrong with them and realize they had been cursed. Besides, Harry remembered what Hermione had done to her parents to keep them safe during their seventh year. While Hermione had been able to reverse most of the magic she’d used on her mother and father, their relationship had never been the same. Her parents simply couldn’t completely forgive their daughter for scrambling their brains and stealing their memories without their consent.

Heaving a huge sigh, Harry admitted defeat. Letting Fleamont handle the situation had the best chance of success, because his parents were much more likely to believe a fellow adult who came with a dire warning for their safety.

“It will be fine,” Tom said soothingly, giving Harry’s hand a soft squeeze. “And if you want to make completely sure Grindelwald leaves your family alone, you could always send him a Patronus to tell him you’ll owl his wand back to him at once.”

Fuck. That was the most reasonable solution, wasn’t it? The easiest way to spare his family. “It’s not that simple,” Harry whispered as they walked through the large, opened doors and into the entrance hall. “I can’t give him his wand back.”

“Why not?” Tom asked, seemingly genuinely befuddled by Harry’s refusal. “I mean, it was a daring feat, to steal the Dark Lord’s wand straight from his hand, but I would think your parents’ lives are worth more than an intriguing souvenir.”

“Listen,” Harry said urgently, making sure no one stood close enough to overhear them. “Without his original wand, Grindelwald will be far less powerful. Easier to defeat at some point.”

Tom frowned, looking like he very much doubted Harry’s assessment of Grindelwald’s magical capabilities. “Nonsense. He would just get a new wand. He might miss his old wand but I doubt it would lessen his actual magical power.”

Damn it. Harry didn’t want to explain what the Elder wand was to Tom, at least not yet. And certainly not in the entrance hall of a busy school where anyone might overheard them. Harry stood up on his tiptoes and leaned as close to Tom as he could. “I can’t explain this right now. Please trust me on this.”

Tom’s expression remained blank for a long minute but then he gave a slow nod and offered Harry a reassuring smile. “Of course. I’m sure you’ll tell me what is really going on as soon as you can.”

“Promise,” Harry said, lying through his teeth. The truth was, he was worried about informing Tom that Harry currently had the most powerful wand in the world in his possession. He was worried it might stir things in Tom, dark things that might drive Tom towards the kind of future Harry desperately wanted to shield him from.

Not to mention Harry had no explanation for how he even knew what the Elder wand was and what it actually looked like so that he could identify it on sight when seeing it in Grindelwald’s hand. Fuck, this whole being reborn thing kept getting more and more complicated and there wasn’t a damned thing Harry could do about it at that moment, even if he tried.

“Tea,” Tom said simply, but he kept a firm hold of Harry’s hand as he led them into the great hall, as though he was afraid Harry might still run off to duel Grindelwald all by his lonesome self. Which Harry wasn’t planning on doing anytime soon. Really.

They found seats at the Ravenclaw table and Tom poured them both steaming cups of tea from one of the many pots that were available in the late afternoon.

“How much time do you need to prepare for supper tonight?” Tom asked after they both had taken a few fortifying sips. “Slughorn expects us at six.”

Harry barely bit back a tortured groan. Sitting through several courses while listening to Slughorn sucking up to various students and guests was the last thing Harry wanted to do right now, but he also understood that he couldn’t back out this late. Besides, it might be a good distraction, to keep Harry from going slowly insane worrying about his family. “I’ll probably go up to the tower at five then. That should give me enough time.”

“I’ll pick you up at a quarter to six,” Tom said with a surprisingly satisfied smile.

It was only now that Harry noticed some of the students around them paying far more attention to him and Tom than usual, if that was even possible. It seemed that the rumour machine was fully at work and news of their new relationship had reached many corners of the castle already. Not that they’d been particularly discreet with their displays of affection.

Tom did a very good job of distracting Harry while they enjoyed a second cup of tea with talk of their Ancient Runes project. At some point Myrtle came walking inside the hall with Ben Bishop at her side. They both sat down at the Ravenclaw table opposite Harry and Tom. “We’re fine,” Harry said quietly when Myrtle gave him an anxious look. “We got away in one piece and we’re safe here.”

Myrtle seemed to understand that this was about as much as Harry was willing to talk about in public and she instead gave a brief overview of all the things she and Ben had seen and done in Hogsmeade that afternoon. Harry let Myrtle’s voice wash over him while he tried not to drown in his own anxiety.

Things were going to be fine. Harry had done all he reasonably could to see to his parents’ safety. Things were going to be just fine.

Myrtle decided to accompany Harry to the tower, even though she didn’t have an invite to the Slug Club and didn’t need to get ready for anything.

“So…” Myrtle said as they climbed the stairs while Tom disappeared down into the dungeons. “I’ve heard all sorts of talk about you and Tom. What happened?”

Harry managed a brave smile even though his stomach was still heavy with fear and guilt. “It seems I have an official boyfriend.”

Myrtle squealed loud enough to startle a few nearby portraits and she instantly grabbed hold of Harry’s arm, squeezing with all her might.

“It’s not that big of a thing,” Harry said quickly. “What about you and Ben?”

For the rest of the journey to Ravenclaw Tower Myrtle told Harry about everything Ben had said and done that day in excruciating detail. Harry was happy to listen, because it was a great distraction.

“What are you going to wear?” Myrtle asked once they hurried inside their dormitory.

“What do you mean?” Harry gave Myrtle a puzzled look as he stepped out of his shoes. “Just some clean Hogwarts robes.”

“You can’t show up to the Slug Club in robes,” Myrtle said in a surprisingly stern tone. “Let me see your clothes. You get ready in the bathroom.” And with that Myrtle started rummaging around in Harry’s wardrobe with a vengeance.

Harry washed up and applied a number of cosmetic charms, though without any enthusiasm this time. He did look nice enough after he was done and Myrtle stood waiting for him holding a dark green velvet gown that Harry had found in the Room of Requirement that summer and altered to look good as new.

“Isn’t that too much?” Harry asked as he slipped into the dress. “It’s just dinner with a professor.”

“You want to make a good first impression, Harriet,” Myrtle insisted, pulling on the sleeves and shoulders of Harry’s dress to make sure everything was even. “You never know who Slughorn might invite. I’ve heard people mention he regularly has high ups from the ministry as guests, or even famous Quidditch stars. And one time the Spanish ambassador even.”

“Fine,” Harry conceded with a sigh. He did look good, he was forced to admit as he stared at himself in the mirror. Certainly older and much more mature than he was.

Myrtle all but shoved him out the door. “Go on, or you’ll be late. Promise to tell me all about it later.”

“Promise,” Harry said, and this time he meant to keep that promise. Tom stood waiting for him outside the tower and he was barely able to speak as he offered his arm to Harry.

“You look stunning,” Tom whispered as they strolled through Hogwarts on their way to Slughorn’s office. Tom was wearing styled black robes, nothing fancy but they also made him seem much more mature.

“You’re looking quite alright yourself,” Harry said with a crooked smile, unable to resist teasing Tom even when he was still mostly preoccupied by fear. Everything was going to be just fine. Harry just kept repeating that to himself again and again.

They reached Slughorn’s office and Tom pushed the door open, letting Harry go inside first. Harry was at least relieved to see that everyone there was wearing robes and dresses just about as fancy as Harry and Tom were.

“Ah, there we have our star student Tom Riddle,” Slughorn said far too loudly as he waved at them with his full wine glass. “And Miss Harriet Hubble, who’s been making all sorts of interesting waves in the Daily Prophet this week.”

“You don’t say,” an all too familiar voice said as a woman with long, dark hair stepped out from behind Slughorn, giving Harry a curious look.

Harry gulped, frozen in place as he looked at the witch he’d least expected to see that evening. “Hi, Aunt Carole.”