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The Fate Changed Now What?	By : Krysania Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 8638 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR , not own Harry Potter, and consequently earn no money whatsoever.

Chapter List
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Tom's pov

Tom sat down, wishing for some wine to dull a tad the throbbing in his veins. Thankfully he had none. It wouldn't do to impede his judgement even more. Trashing the room and putting it back together had barely taken the edge off from his rage but it hadn't calmed him. To calm down he needed either a long training session, preferably sparring against Harry, or to finally put the object of his frustrations in her place.
Believing, and insisting on, that if Harry was aware of his condition he could simply cooperate with him and allow him to save him. How naive! Tom was positive that if Harry was really aware that his condition could be compared to a muggle bomb, and that if he snapped he could take Merlin knows how many people with him, he would gladly choose death over risking waiting for a cure.
It wasn't a weakness, it was pure strength. It was his friend's incredible will, his denial to compromise in anything, least of all in himself. Tom could respect that. But respect and acceptance were two completely different matters and so he was going to keep his silence for as long as it was needed. Granger was disagreeing of course, and was basing said disagreement, in some romantic nonsense. Women! What did she take Harry for, a sheep? Had she forgotten his iron will? And she was supposed to be his friend, the closest after himself.
Salazar, how he hated that woman!
He wouldn't loathe her so much if she didn't insist so much on her opinion, and if said opinion wasn't so obviously, glaringly, wrong. The mere fact that he was unable to lift a finger and shut her up was proof enough. If Harry, except his deep friendship, held even a modicum of romantic feelings for him as well, he would have started resenting Granger for presumably taking the first place in what he had for heart.
Tom's careful testing had shown that Harry's degrees of affection influenced the binding to his oath. It was near impossible to harshly punish his closer followers; he couldn't lift a finger to Granger but, unfortunately for everyone else, not close enough, it mattered only if they were in danger. He had a bad feeling that Minerva McGonagall was going to end up in the first group.
He had attacked the mudborn intentionally just once and he had come one step away from losing his magic, his oath protecting her like an unconquerable shield. Still Harry's closest friend, was following him, after all.
Not that Granger understood the complexity of his and Harry's relationship. For her there were only two categories friends and lovers and, as he and Harry had exceeded friends, it was to become lovers. Silly girl! For him and Harry being lovers was left so far behind that there wasn't even a comparison.
As a first year at Hogwarts he had found a book, 'The Epoch of Gilgamesh,' that had both intrigued him because it referred to a quest for immortality and disgusted him because its sentimentality. But fate had a weird sense of humour because she had sent him his own Enkidu. 'A stormy heart for his stormy heart.'
Harry was the exception to his every rule! Tom had fumed for a long time but finally he had accepted it in its complexity. He was family, confidant, stabilizer, adversary, equal, the other half of his soul (and it had next to nothing to do with the horcrux), his eternal challenge and the only person that had seen him fully in weakness and strength and instead of running to the hills had stayed, in the end, willingly at his side, a choice that had nothing to do with power and everything to do with their special bond.
He was never going to be his servant. When he followed, Tom had to win him and yet even then he did it by his own choice. But what a power rush it was every time he managed to win over Harry. Nothing could ever compare to that!
He brought colour in his life. Before Harry his life had been a smoggy grey lighted persistently by the silver of his ambitions and the occasional rusty red of violence. The half lion half snake had offered him warm yellows, vibrant reds and oranges and soothing greens. Tom was going to be damned if he ever let him go.
Not that it was easy to coexist - they had both drawn their lines in the sand. Tom couldn't bear to not rule, Harry couldn't stand to not protect lives. It was in their nature and near impossible to reconcile, but they were both fighting with everything in them to keep what they had.
Tom's will wasn't in any way, shape, or form lesser than Harry's and he refused to debase himself and, instead of reaching his potential, become something repulsive like Voldemort.
The abomination! Ruining a perfectly good name! Tom hadn't regretted killing him in the slightest; instead a fierce satisfaction coursed his body every time he remembered it. The bastard had forced him to hurt Harry; it was his choice and only his when and how much he did that. Snake remnants' had ruined it for him. These days it bothered him to hurt Harry even when he had to prove a point. Not that it stopped him. . .
. . .And Granger considered that being lovers could be a solution. Tom scoffed. How short sighted! After all Harry was already his weakness and while he could admit that inexplicably had also ended up his strength, he couldn't afford to open himself up more. Harry already had more power over him that it was logically healthy.
What they already had was more than enough to hold them for lifetimes, not a mere single one. Tom didn't need or even want more.
Not that the thought had never been there before - Harry was attractive in his own wild way and he was almost the only person that the thought of satisfying those urges with wasn't revolting to him.
Thankfully, those kinds of desires were affecting him even less than his craving for chocolate, so it was quite rare. Unfortunately, almost every time it happened, he was either sparring with Harry, or Harry was challenging him in some way.
Tom had pondered the possibility that maybe the positives of sexual intimacy with Harry could exceed the negatives. Harry was beyond loyal so if Tom set upon himself the task of fulfilling his physical needs, except most of the emotional, then it was a foregone conclusion that his friend was going to stay with him to the end of days without anyone and anything coming between them.
Regrettably, the point was moot. Up to the latest time he had been in Harry's mind, about eight months ago, his friend couldn't contemplate the possibility, even in jest. He wasn't scared, or repulsed, he simply, pointedly, ignored any and all comments on the matter.
He did that with such dedication that Tom had started to fear that he had been assaulted as a kid and repressed it. If that had been the case, it wouldn't have mattered if Harry begged on his knees; Tom would have cut his fat walrus of uncle in tiny ribbons, like he had taken care of those who had tried to take advance of him as a child.
Thankfully it wasn't the case but, as with many things, it left him wondering at Harry's unique reaction. The emotional intimacy was there, Harry admitted it, even privately, that he found him handsome, the only thing missing was the connection of the two. Harry remained stubbornly a step shy away from it.
Tom had, briefly, considered pressing the point. It could have been the simplest thing in the world to exploit one of the infrequent moments of weakness that Harry had from time to time and, if the reaction was completely unfavourable, he could always find a way to obliviate him after. He decided to not do it. Not on any moral ground, Tom deemed himself above those, and not out of friendship, if Harry was vulnerable he was also fair game most of the time and he knew it.
No, the reason that Tom held back was that the odds were mostly on an unfavourable reaction and Harry would never forgive a second obliviate, even if he could forgive Tom making a serious pass at him. He would gather his things and leave for Beirut, or Mexico, or anywhere where it would take Tom years to find him, if ever. . .
Everything concluded that there wasn't anything stupider than trying to pursue something more than their close friendship. Yet everything in Tom burned to claim what was his. Damn Granger for opening that specific can of worms!
He had used all his will power to not react, even more violently, at seeing Harry dating Minerva, the mere thought of any other person touching his most precious of possessions was bearing forth such rage that even Tom was unaware that he possessed it, and that was saying something.
Tom forced himself to calm somewhat down. If he continued into that vein Harry was bound to notice and come to investigate, for all the heavy occlumency barriers they were both under. It was a miracle that his outburst had gone undetected the first time.
It wasn't even like if he could ever touch him it would be enough. Tom wanted to own Harry's every breath, not merely his body. As if that was ever going to happen. . .
A wry smile touched Tom's lips. For them to touch any of their thousand issues Harry should live first. The night had hours yet.
Tom opened the next grimoire.
~*~

Harry's pov

Harry left the dorm at the earliest possible moment, trying to look normal. Truthfully his head was killing him and he desperately wished for coffee to ease the pounding.
The logical thing would have been to go to the hospital wing, but he refused to do so, he'd had much, much worse over the years and this wasn't even a hangover.
He had awoken quietly at three in the morning because of an undefined dream, (for once), and had been unable to sleep again. He hadn't left the dorm for the common room because he, honestly, wasn't sure where his feet would have led him.
Instead, he spent the night in his bed, thinking. Tom had been right, he had screwed up. Not by saving lives, never this. The only thing truly damaged was the stupid plan. A fact that Harry wasn't quite regretting. . . its outcome was maybe essential for their safety, but, perhaps it was the Gryffindor in him, he wasn't completely alright with the way there. . .
. . .Never mind, the real problem was that with the same way he saved the students he also painted a nice red target on the school, like Dumbledore wasn't enough? Something must be done about that. . .
So he had plotted for half the night and as he walked to breakfast he was resolute that he was going to make Tom help with his plans at any cost. But as he reached the great hall Harry got quite the surprise.
Tom and Hermione were already there. . .
For Tom it was quite normal but Mione, while a morning person, it wasn't to this extent. No, the big surprise wasn't that but the seating arrangement. Usually, when Hermione sat at the Slytherin table, (most of the time,) she sat at his right, or across him, and that hadn't changed even after Tom started courting her. Today she sat at Tom's left.
That was more than significant. But, as Harry examined them, in that spec of time, they looked more like colleagues than lovers. Then Tom kissed her palm and the illusion was shattered.
Harry held back a sigh and forcing himself a smile of fake cheerfulness he sat besides Tom.
“Morning guys.”
Tom took a look at him and wordlessly offered him coffee. Harry drank and sighed in contentment as the throbbing in his head slowed somewhat.
Tom smirked.

“Hangover?”
Harry opened his mouth to differ, but then he thought better, less hassle, and simply nodded.
“Harry you shouldn't have drank that much. . .” Hermione scolded. Both men ignored her.
“How did you know?” he questioned, a bit grumpy - he was keeping the link completely closed and had strong glamours in place.
Tom smiled, beatifically, and started counting on his fingers.
“Your eyes are tense at the corners, and you are awake at five thirty on a Saturday. Should I continue?” he asked pointedly making it quite clear that he was aware of the glamours.
Harry growled. Why should Tom be in such high spirits so damn early?

“None of your business.”
Tom sent him a curious glance, but he didn't seem to take offence at Harry's blatant disregard.
“Tut tut, that must be quite the headache!” Tom's mocking lacked bite.
Someone was in a rare form today.

“Stuff it Tom.” he told his friend tiredly.
Twin points of laser examined his face.

“Only stuff it? That was original, darling, you really must be close to sick.”
Harry felt the absolute euphoria of having Tom focusing his complete attention on him after so long sharing it with Mione and terrible guilt for ignoring her so far.
The guilt won, but just barely. Harry shrugged. “I will ask Zev for a hangover potion.” he looked at Hermione and smiled sheepishly.
Hermione looked ready for a long rant but Tom put his hand on her shoulder and told her mildly:
“Leave him be.” it was an order, not even a disguised one, yet Mione blushed prettily and shook her head in fond exasperation.
“Oh Harry!” she sternly said, but her eyes were dancing, she wasn't annoyed.
Harry was puzzled, Hermione wasn't one to accept orders from anyone, except maybe teachers she really respected, not Tom. There was something strange here, he was sure. Yet he was, also, off the hook, at least for now.
Or he thought so. . . abruptly Tom leaned towards him and whispered, which was way overboard as he was speaking parseltongue.
“Is it truly hangover, Harry, or did I wake you up last night?”
What the hell?
Harry tried, at lightning speed, to figure out Tom's game. He certainly hadn't hurt Mione the previous night; Harry would have felt that, but there was a link there, of that he was sure.
Suddenly, thanks to their close proximity, it was impossible to ignore that Tom was under similar glamours as his own. Discreetly he checked Mione, the same.
Damn Tom and his games to hell and back!
Harry fought with everything he had to not blush as he recalled parts of his dream. He refused to be cornered on such personal matters; he didn't even have the excuse of being drunk.
He barely managed to meet Tom's glittering eyes square on.

It was impossible to fool Tom with falsehoods so Harry offered his friend the truth.
It was bloody uncomfortable to know such things for his friends and he would have preferred to be anywhere but here.
He conveyed those with a single look and concluded:
“I thought that you, of all guys, would have more class than start boasting a conquest. What's wrong, feeling insecure, Tom?”
Just as he expected Tom's eyes narrowed in anger.
“I didn't do such a thing,” he stated with complete dignity.

“I was merely concerned as I felt your presence last night and I was wondering if it was going to be a recurring thing.”
The edges of his mouth twitched and Harry realised that Tom was having the time of his life at his expense.
Harry wasn't going to touch that even with a ten foot pole. He fell back on humour instead.

“Yeah right, Tommy-boy, tell yourself that.”
He expected some cutting comment in return, but Tom made a complete turn that left Harry with his mouth hanging open.

“This stops here, we are making Hermione uncomfortable.”
Harry was ready to tell Tom that it was lame but then he checked Mione. She looked indeed very uncomfortable.
This brought things home more than anything. Tom was completely serious. Normally Tom couldn't care less for whatever any other person was feeling, maybe once in while he cared about Harry's but even that was rare.
This was different though. Tom stopped one of their games for her comfort. Harry had to try his damnest to avoid resenting her even a little. It was bloody hard to do so, already, knowing that they were sexually intimate.
He could only do that because he had been prepared. Zevi's remark, that Tom was straight; such a comfort then, seemed such a heavy thing now. It was going to be near impossible to not hate her, a little bit, if she started interfering with their friendship.
Harry refused to do so though, Hermione was the only one, from his oldest friends, remaining. To hate her, even a little, would be like hating himself. He couldn't bear to get more empty than he already was. After all, in a few months time, their relationship was only going to be background to him, it wouldn't bother him. He was a Slytherin, he was going to adapt.
Also, the whole scene smelled like Tom's plans. Harry, knowing Tom, wouldn't put it past him to try and split his and Mione's friendship so that they couldn't team up against him.
Speaking of paranoid Slytherins . . . Tom's, too sharp, eyes were once again stabbing at him. Harry didn't feel that comfortable making those thoughts, so it was time to bring matters to more safe and constructive waters.
“Truthfully guys, I had and another reason why I couldn't sleep yesterday, except the headache. . .”
Hermione put her spoon down and Tom raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Do tell.”
Harry took a deep breath, what he had to say wasn't exactly pleasant.
“You were right, yesterday, Tom, I screwed up. Instead of working on evacuation I forced us to fight and they are going to return and put even more kids in danger. We must, do something about it.”
“Really darling,” Tom drawled, “I thought that you were above deferring to get what you want.” the words sounded even crueller with the almost sweet way he said them.
Harry's blood boiled. He got up.

“I, unlike some people, can admit when I'm wrong.”
Tom rose too, looking predatory, anticipating.
“I rather doubt it.” his voice was dripping with sarcasm and he looked like he would really love a challenge. Harry had half a mind to give him one.
“Stop, both of you.” Hermione's voice held a quiet authority and surprisingly even Tom took heed of it. Harry was involuntarily impressed.
They sat down.
“So, Harry, tells us what troubling you?” she asked calmly.
Harry gulped down a lump of anxiousness and started explaining to the best of his ability. This was too important to mess it up.
“I was thinking about the students, while professor Merrythought teaches them better than any of our professors taught us, they are virtually defenceless against Grindelwald's followers, so. . .”
He didn't have time to finish his proposition before Tom had raised a warning hand.

“Out of the question.”
“I think it's a wonderful idea!” Mione contradicted him.

“I had thought of something similar for our year before you two sent Umbridge where she deserved. . .”
Tom looked like he was searching for patience.

“You said it yourself, your year, wonder boy here wants to train the whole school.”
Harry shrugged.

“Pretty much, yes, I believe it's important.”
“Tom.” Hermione tried again imploringly.
Tom sent Hermione a scathing glance, intimidating her into looking down. Harry lost some of his faith in the longevity of their relationship. Then he returned his attention on Harry smiling frostily.
“No, if you find it that essential, you can do it yourself, if you have the time.”
“Excuse me,” Harry said with gritted teeth, “what do you mean if I have the time?”

He was the first to admit that the task was Huge, that was why he needed Tom and Hermione's help, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do it alone, or that was ready to accept Tom's cavalier attitude.
“Last tine I checked I could probably pass my NEWT's napping, imagine you or Hermione? The only constraint on your time is your Head Boy's rounds. . . so. . . what kinds of shit have you gotten yourself?”
“It doesn't concern you, its personal.” for the first time it looked like Harry had touched a nerve.
“Anything about you concerns me,” Harry smiled and he knew it wasn't pleasant, “You made sure of it.” he didn't really care if was cutting their alone time. . . they shared a room for Salazar's sake!
“I said no, why don't you ask your girlfriend Minerva?” Tom never sounded more venomous.
“I never thought about that, too close to Dumbledore. Maybe you're right, I'll ask. But it will be better if we all work together.”
“What do you plan teaching them?” this was the first sign of interest.
“Moderately strong light and dark defence, wherever their affinity and abilities lies, whatever will keep them safe.”
“The numbers are too high; Dumbledore is going to find out. I was planning to stay out of his radar this year.”
“I know, but I believe that we can pull it off. If we can't hide it from him we are not worthy to be named Slytherins. . .”
Tom's eyes flashed with the challenge and Harry knew that he almost had him.
“. . .and I can't believe that you will pass such a chance.” he didn't need to elaborate.
“You're not going to drop it?” it was as close to acceptance as it was going to get.
“Never, it's too important.” Harry held back his smile. He was going to pay dearly for this, but it was so worth it.
“The price is going to be excruciating.” Tom was dead serious.
“I know, name your price.” Harry steadied himself.
Tom smiled brilliantly.
“I want us to start training in the chamber every day. I don't care how much the Basilisk and the place unnerves you, we are going to do it. After all, I need compensation for giving up the 'Come and Go' room.”
Harry nodded his acceptance. It was unpleasant but he could live with that.
Tom continued.

“There are going to be many things that are debatable, but what I want the most is your solemn oath that you are going to do exactly as I ask you at ten times of my choosing or until I free you .”
Harry gulped. This may sound innocent to the untrained ear but there wasn't anything worse than that. Tom was demanding he offer everything on a silver plate. The most terrifying thing: Harry had already agreed to help killing both Dumbledore and Grindelwald at their duel, what could have been so bad that Tom wasn't even mentioning it?
Seeing that Harry wasn't answering Tom pressed.

“How much do you want it? The teachers are coming and I don't want to risk talking more about this here.”
Those were the words he said but, strangely enough, what Harry read in his eyes was ‘Trust me.’ and it was to that he said. . .

“I consent.”
Tom's eyes flashed to something that looked more relief than triumph but it passed too soon for Harry to be sure.

“Good, you are going to swear on this as soon as breakfast is over.”
Harry's eyebrows rose. “Are we in a hurry?”
Tom smirked. “I thought you wanted it, did you changed your mind?”
Harry would have been alarmed if Tom's demands weren't normally that ruthless, as it was, he smirked too and was ready to tease back when the teachers started coming from the head table. Tom sneered discreetly and returned his attention at Hermione.
Headmaster Dippet and Professor Slughorn were smiling proudly at them, while Dumbledore frowned, as if he wondered in what horrible thing they had gotten themselves into this time. Harry's relatively good mood fell again.
But then Minerva flashed him a smile as she sat besides Dumbledore and Harry found his lips lifting as well. Maybe it wasn't going to be such a bad day after all.
Their friends started coming: Brax, looking half asleep, Zevi walking briskly, seeming almost worried, and Alphard, looking far too cheerful for six o'clock in the morning.
Almost everyone took the new arrangement at their stride. It was coming after all, only Zev had to stop for a furtive double take. Harry felt for him, but only partially, he had, after all, more than a whole year to decide that he liked Hermione enough to not care about her blood status and when he did Tom was already flirting with her and Zev was never going to compete against his Lord.
If Harry wanted to be honest, and at this instant he didn't, not even for Zev, it was a bit hypocritical from him, but it wasn't like he wouldn't stand at his friend's side if the need arose, and at least no one was talking about it, as they thought his careful reactions to be those of a concerned brother.
That part was brilliant!
Zevi had convinced his father, a renowned scholar, to house them their first summer back in the past. Elijah Prince had been kind to them and was so impressed with Hermione's academic prowess that he had personally written her at Hogwarts, knowing full well that by the unwritten pureblood code she will be either considered a natural daughter or an intended for his son. Slughorn had already, accidentally, called her Miss Prince, twice. Even without Tom's protection she was relatively safe.
A boisterous “Hey Harry,” brought him out of his musings. His friends knew better than to bother him when he was that pensive but little Orion didn't know him well enough yet to spot the danger, or paid that much attention to societal regulations, yet. The second year had chosen him as his hero, for no other reasons except Quidditch, especially after he became the reserve seeker. Harry didn't mind; the kid was like an overexcited puppy, enthusiastic and sunny, and somehow he always managed to bring a smile at Harry's lips.
So Harry let the kid prattle about the next match and started relaxing but his respite didn't last for very long. A blood-curling screech, close to a banshee's, disturbed the air. Everyone at the Slytherin table and even at the others snapped their eyes to the spectacle in disbelief.
“Burga!” Alphard hissed, trying to calm his sister, to no result.
Walburga Black stood at edge of the table and seemed to be unaware of where she was and the commotion that she was creating. She was too busy glaring at Orion in incensed incredulity.
“Orion Arcturus Black, how dare you shame our most ancient and noble name by accepting the protection of a rejected, filthy, half blood, if he is even that, and to top matters you are standing at attendance as if you were his servant!”
Harry was rendered, for the first time in his life, completely speechless. It wasn't that he was shocked that Walburga could chose to attack him; the woman held no love for him, but the means she chose were unpardonable. To insult him like that in front the whole school?
He heard, in a dream-like state, Orion replying to his cousin.
“Thank you for your concern dear cousin, unfortunately, for me, Evans hasn't bestowed me with such an honour and it would have been far easier for me to believe you if you hadn't soiled our name already by making such a spectacle of yourself.”
Yet the words didn't truly register, he was far too lost in himself.
It was much more than the simple insinuation that Tom had dumped him that was intolerable; no matter how much it galled him, the only damage from that was how many more people were going to believe that tripe. Harry could live with that.
What he found unbearable was that the bitch had outright said that he had touched Orion, a twelve year old, when he had done his damnest to stop this thing from happening to the younger years. It didn't matter if the teachers tolerated it, no kid should be taken advantage of like that. He had even conned Tom into helping him, conceding to things much faster than he should.
Salazar, how he hated her! He felt his shock turning in red hot anger. How dare she? Orion may have defended him, sort of, but many were going to believe her due to how widely accept her first allusion was. Harry felt his restrictions snap. He wanted her dead and for the first time in his life he felt no guilt whatsoever for admitting something like that.
He didn't reach for his wand; Harry had cast, so far, Avada Kedavra only once successfully. He didn't think he needed it. He and Tom had been training extensively in wandless magic for the past year or so, Tom being of course far more successful, but he himself wasn't bad. He could have been pure rubbish though and at that moment it wouldn't have mattered.
Harry felt that something was building inside him. He only needed to focus that power. He looked at Walburga's eyes and readied himself to release all his hate, all his anger. But then Sirius face passed behind his eyes. The power died within him. He couldn't do that to Sirius' mother. He wanted his godfather to have another chance at life even if he never got to know him again, and for that he had to be born.
Suddenly he realised what he had been ready to do and he wanted to be violently sick. All that hate, all that anger! At that moment he knew if he had chosen to cast Cruciatus he would have succeeded. He had wanted to take her - a girl of his age, malicious though she was. What was he becoming?
Without paying the slightest attention to the rest of the hall Harry got up. He needed air, freedom, to think. There was truly only one place he could really do that. . .
~*~

Tom's pov

There were only a few things that made Tom relieved to be finishing his formal magical education and leaving his home forever, (unless he found a way to get the defence post that was) one was the restrictions upon his magic, the other seeing Dumbledore's face first thing in the morning, every day.
So he had been trying his best to avoid said unpleasant view and Black, the little pest, that the mad woman's screams caught him almost completely by surprise. He had expected some sort of revenge attempt for rejecting her charms but he would have never anticipated something so public. The woman lived for her name.
He wondered in a flash if she chosen Harry as a lesser victim instead of Hermione to avoid the brunt of his anger and he had to conclude that she knew precisely well what she was doing. Tom should have known particularly well what a mentally impaired person without moral code, or common sense whatsoever, was capable off - a mistake he wasn't going to repeat.
He focused his whole attention on Harry's face, watching every minuscule reaction carefully. Harry wasn't even aware of him. He saw the green eyes clouding with shock, indignation, hate and finally killing intent, he felt himself all those things. . . Tom didn't know if he shared them himself, or if Harry was that affected by the emotions he was projecting.
What he did know was that Harry was magnificent, breathtaking beautiful and that his magic was the most glorious thing in the world. Or it would have been if it wasn't utterly terrifying in its connotations. Everything was holding on a single hair. Tom prepared himself to take Harry's emotions into himself if Harry snapped. He wasn't much more mentally stable, but he had the advantage of being able to pretend pure calmness even under a psychotic break.
Walburga was going to get what was coming to her, but not here and not now.
Then, miracle of miracles, Harry calmed down, even that far gone. He was indeed an exceptional fighter and Tom started to have actual optimism that they were going to beat the odds again, but it had been a close call.
Then the sadness came, in a quantum so vast that Tom was almost unable to recognise the emotion. After all, almost all his experience with it was second hand through Harry.
Abruptly, Harry freed himself from the arm that Tom had unconsciously tightened around his waist to hold him in place and got on his feet.
“I could never hurt your cousin, or any other kid, like that so you better stop spreading your poison around,” he said in a flawlessly composed voice. It was an emotion that Tom knew perfectly well his friend didn't feel, and left the room with complete dignity.
Tom wanted to follow him with everything he had but it was impossible. Harry hadn't left the room less than few seconds before total chaos broke loose. Still, in the mental condition that Harry was in there was no way to say what he could do. So he sent Zevi instead, he could have used the Prince heir's level-headedness, but he really needed Alphard's assistance. If he didn't do some damage control, now, Harry was going to be expelled before the day was over.
“A hundred points from Slytherin for slandering a fellow student and creating a commotion in the Great Hall,” he intoned in his most authoritative voice.
Walburga dared to meet his eyes only once with dark satisfaction, for all her lost points, and immediately lowered them, shivering in terror, as she saw her slow torturous death staring back. It wouldn't happen fast, there were going to be too many questions if another skrewt-eaten body was found in the forbidden forest this year and Harry was extremely fond of the mutt. He was going to allow her to give birth and then he was going to deal with her.
None of his housemates dared to complain about the excessive point loss. Not that they usually would, but everyone understood that at that moment everybody was on extremely thin ice with him.
He checked the Head table, hoping that he had closed the matter. No such luck. The teachers looked grimly at each other. Now that the matter had been brought to them they had to deal with it. Hypocrites!
Granger, Alphard, Abraxas and little Orion followed close behind him as he approached the Head table. Up close Dippet, the fool, only the little hair he had left wasn't pulling. Dumbledore looked grave, but his eyes were twinkling like mad, as he could hardly miss such a good chance to get rid one of the thorns in his side. Merrythought, the hag, gazed around like she was falling from clouds to hear that such things could happen.
And Slughorn, the worst of all, was looking for a way to get away. Like he didn't know perfectly well that Harry could never touch a little kid, or the role he had played to stop the practise. No, dearest Slughorn, was never going to voice his support for a halfblooded orphan against someone as aristocratic and wealthy as Walburga Black, no matter how talented or powerful, at least not without a incentive.
Only Minerva McGonagall seemed to have an honest reaction.
Tom was going to need all his skills.
~*~

Minerva's pov

If someone dared to touch a single finger at her she was going to blow up. How dare they accuse Harry of such things? Were they blind, or idiots? Granted, she had only recently come to know Harry a little better, but even before, she could have never believed that Harry would have touched a little kid to get off.
And that Damned Albus! Every time, when she asked his help to stop that practice Albus told her: ‘They are just young men trying to show their wild oats.’
Wild oats! Children of eleven, twelve and thirteen, like she would believe that! And he wanted to expel the only one that had decided to do something about that. . . Minerva couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
At least he had gotten exactly what he deserved, like Riddle was ever going to let him get away with that. . . and he wasn't even alone, the girl's brother and cousin had stood with him. A few years back she may have worried that their devotion to Riddle outshined that to their family, but now she knew better. Even that conceited git, Malfoy, had done his part, and the new Head Girl Granger or Prince, she wasn't certain for some reason.
Albus had tried, of course, to point out that it was only his close friends that were protecting him. Minerva could bet that he regretted opening his mouth. Imogen Pierce had come forth then and Apollonius Lovegood, from Ravenclaw, Roger Watkins and Samuel Diggory, from Hufflepuff. Those and dozens underclassmen, that had been either protected by Harry, or Riddle, in some form. But the cherry on top had come from Leonard! He had told the teachers ‘That if there was a male student that Harrison was interested with that was Riddle himself, not a little kid!’
Both Riddle and Albus had almost gotten an apoplexy upon hearing this and Minerva had to bite her lips to not laugh. She had a feeling that this was going to make the round of the school before nightfall. Harry was going to hate it, but at least he was staying.
When Minerva finally left, Riddle and Granger had things well at hand. She had a feeling that Harry could end up with an award, instead of getting expelled, thanks to Riddle.
Finally, she reached her destination. There was a lone dot flying around the Quidditch pitch. Minerva was almost certain of who it was. But where the hell was Prince? She had been sure that he had followed Harry almost to the moment he had left. Oh never mind that.
Minerva mounted her broom and followed her new friend to the sky. Up there it took her some minutes to catch up with Harry; he was flying far faster than she had ever seen before. How the hell was he managing that?
“What are you doing here Minerva?” there was genuine puzzlement in Harry's voice.
“I’m making sure that you are not alone and won’t do something stupid. . .” her voice came out harsher than she intended.
Harry shrugged carelessly.
“You don't have to worry. As you can see I'm neither alone or doing something stupid.” he pointed down where Prince was in the stands.
Minerva snorted indelicately.

“You are up here; he is down there that hardly counts. As for doing something stupid, the way you fly alone can count as such.”
Harry's face hardened.

“Don't worry, I'm used to flying like this and my friends know to leave me alone when I'm troubled.”
She snorted again.

“Troubled would put it mildly after such an attack, and in that case what is he going down there?”
Harry smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

“Zev is a mother hen,” he told her in a voice that she could understand was intentionally light.

“And if it was something worse than an insult Tom or Herm would have been here to bug me.”
Minerva blanched.

“You don't know then?”
Harry started looking worried.

“Know what? Walburga Black accused me in front the whole school that I touched her baby cousin like many too rich and over hormonal upperclassmen do. What could be worse than that?”
Minerva bite her lower lip.

“You used the word accuse. If something like that reach the ears of the parents or teachers the next step is the calling of aurors, snapping your wand and expulsion.”
Harry's hands convulsed around his broom's handle and turned white. Minerva read the question before he could ask.
“The use of veritaserum is only administered with an order from the Wizengamot, it could have been your word against hers and as you are a halfblood without a family to speak for and she from an ancient and pureblood family the result could have been all but prewritten.”
Harry looked decidedly sick now.

“I won't let them do it, no matter what, I won't.” At the last word the panic had receded and a veneer of calm resolution had covered every other thought.
And he would do it too and probably win. . . she shook her head to clear her thoughts but it was impossible to hide her admiration.
“Never mind, you don't have to worry about anything of this. Your friend Tom, Granger, the Black boys and many others raised holy hell and forced the teachers to back off and Walburga to eat up her words, else I believe that he would have been here to stop you playing idiot.”
“They did?” he asked looking astonished and almost giddy with happiness for a second. What was wrong with this kid to be surprised about his friends’ devotion when he would throw himself on fire for them?
But her distraction was enough for Harry to get himself together. “Why the hell did you scare me half to death then?” he asked more than angry.
Minerva felt guilty. She should have reassured him before telling him the rest.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have told you like that, but you had to know.”
Harry sighed.

“I understand.” some of his energy seemed to deflate.

“But how on earth did they manage to stop this if it was that serious?”
Minerva laughed as she remembered.

“Riddle had then all rounded inside a parchment, everything they tried to say he had a counter and many witnesses. Albus was most frustrated. But it was so worth it.”
Harry looked genuinely puzzled.

“But I thought that you liked professor Dumbledore.”
“Harry!” Minerva all but shouted, blushing, embarrassed.

“I respect Professor Dumbledore very much but that doesn't mean that I like him that way or that I agree with his decisions in some things.”
“Of course not,” Harry nodded solemnly, “How could you like him that way when he is just shy of hundred and has such a terrible sweet addiction.”
Minerva found herself laughing helplessly.

“You are a terrible, horrible person, no wonder Riddle likes you so much,” she regained her composure and couldn't help adding.

“He didn't let a single thing get by him; I hope to Merlin that my brother will never face him in the Wizengamot's courtroom.”
Harry nodded his agreement with a look of quiet pride.
“He has a way with words. What's your brother doing?” he changed the topic but Minerva noticed that he didn't react in any way when she commented that Tom liked him as revenge to his own.
Still she couldn't contain her pride for her brother.

“He is a Silveror!”
Harry looked at her at a complete loss.

“What exactly does that mean? I never heard that term before.”
Minerva played it casually.

“It is a rare profession; he represents people at the Wizengamot. Most purebloods that face trials prefer to stand for themselves and muggleborns are not given a choice.”
Harry was mumbling something, Minerva wasn't sure but she believed that it was something like:
“Something must be done about that. . .”
“What did you say?” she asked a bit sharply.
“Lawyer, the muggle term is lawyer.” he smiled cheekily at her. The brat! He knew perfectly well that she had heard but he was urging her to keep it between them.
She nodded her agreement.

“Thank you.”
They stayed silent for a few moments concentrating on flying faster.
“Minerva,” he asked during their third circling of the pitch,

“What are the things that you disagree with Dumbledore?”

Minerva wanted to smile in triumph she had passed a huge test.
She didn't. It didn't matter how many things they had agreed on so far, or how disappointed she was growing with Albus, she had not yet seen positive proof that he was on the same page with her. Riddle remained a huge question mark and Harry was clearly devoted to his friend, or whatever.
She started cautiously.
“I don't like how Albus is either too lax or too strict with some students on the same matters; I hated it how he patted the guys from our House on the back, guys when they all but coerced younger kids, first and second years, and then, when there was a hint of scandal about you he was ready to expel you without a second thought.”
Harry smiled at her but his eyes were dead serious.

“I appreciate that Minnie but is there anything more?”
Minerva bit her lips harshly. It wasn't enough, and for Harry to ask for more that meant that there was something big that needed trust. The question was did she trust Harry that much? Strangely enough the answer was yes.
She didn't beat around the bush.

“I hate how he always leaves to organise things at the ministry against Grindelwald. Some people have already started calling him the Light Lord yet he has done nothing to stop him. If he has the power to stop him he must stop stalling and do something, if he is not, his place is at the school protecting the students. He certainly is the most powerful among professors.”
Seeing that Harry was opening his mouth to speak she raised her hand. There was something else she wanted to say.
“But my affinity is light and will always remain so.”

There, now she had all her cards out in the open.
“My affinity is in both, as you have seen,” Harry answered her honesty with honesty.

“Tom's affinity is dark but even an idiot can see that if one group get suppressed that will only mean that it will be war again in a few years down the line and Tom is the remotest thing from an idiot.”
Minerva's eyes widened. This was far more than what she expected to hear and in many ways the confirmation of Albus' worst nightmares, yet, for her it was strangely comforting. These boys had a plan for the Wizarding world, yet, their solution was the most honest one, and the most easily dismissed. Could it really work? Walking always on the knife's edge? She wasn't sure, but she damn well wanted them to try.
Harry, oblivious to her revelation, continued on.

“We have been worried about the attacks too and something must be done to help the kids.”
Minerva caught only the last part.

“What are you talking about?”
Harry rolled his eyes.

“Me, Tom and Mione decided to help the younger years by teaching them anything we can in defence. We could use your help.”
She was struck with the sheer effort that they were ready to offer.

“Not a bad thought, but bloody difficult, I bet it was your idea.”
Harry looked bashful.

“Why do you say that?”
“Riddle is hardly the person to go out a limb for others.” she simply pointed out.
Harry shrugged.

“Maybe, but he is a bloody brilliant teacher!”
She was sceptical.

“Really? I'm almost sure that he will make the younger years cry, as far as I have seen he is a worse taskmaster than me.”
Harry glared heatedly.

“Don't be, he can be very patient, he taught me most things that I know.”
That was something she didn't expect, maybe she should revaluate Riddle, hmmm better to start thinking of him as Tom. He called her Minerva since they were younger as an insinuation that he was her equal, or better, although he was younger and she kept calling him Riddle to keep the distance.
Here and now though, Harry was still glaring.

Instead of allowing herself to be scared she finally took her revenge for the liking Albus hit.

“Do you have any idea how suggestive that sounded?”
Bingo! Harry blushed like a tomato and stammered.

“W-what? I didn't mean it like that.”
Minerva smiled her cat smile, enjoying her victory. Not many could make the unflappable Harrison Evans, or was it Harry Potter, blush and stammer like that.
“Alright I believe you, not that it would have mattered to me either way.”
Harry still wasn't happy.
“Thanks, I suppose. Any time you will give me your answer, you keep stalling.”
She was surprised.

“But I thought that it was obvious?”
“Well its not, you are Dumbledore's right-hand woman,” he told her bluntly.
“Am I?” she answered him not without some bitterness, “I must have missed it.” seeing that he kept looking at her, with those eerie Avada Kedavra eyes, she elaborated.
“I want to be a teacher; anything that is an advantage to the children within these walls has my support and allegiance.”
Harry nodded, recognizing her oath even without formal words.
“Blunt like a Gryffindor!” she couldn't help but complimenting him.
“Playing like a Slytherin!” he answered her in equal candour.
She blushed, that was a great compliment from a Slytherin, especially from this Slytherin.

“So. . .when and where? I will be there.”
Harry looked aside.

“We were discussing this but then everything happened. Can I come to you later?”
“No problem.” she was angry with the Black bitch again.
Suddenly, without warning, Harry looked down and his lips parted in a huge happy smile.
“We better get down.” and what a surprise, Riddle was waiting below, his impatience visible even to that height.
“Boyfriend came to get you!” she couldn't help a last tease.
“Shout up Minnie,” he bit out and started descending.
Minerva followed him.
“I don't know,” she said, almost to herself. “You convinced him to help you out with the students; if that it's not a proof of eternal love from him I will be very surprised.”
Harry didn't show that he heard her, shooting down in that blinding speed, and she had kept her voice low enough to not reach Riddle and embarrass him.
Down to the ground, Riddle and Harry were already in their own world. Who Riddle was kidding by dating Granger, she didn't know - too bad, she was a truly good girl.
“Minerva.” he greeted her, always polite, but he didn't exchange a word with Harry, obviously expecting her to leave.
“Tom.” she greeted him back and had the pleasure of his brief surprise as she left the Slytherins to their own devices.
~*~

Harry's pov

Harry was looking at Tom and couldn't believe it; the teenage Dark Lord had put his reputation on the line for him. He was overwhelmed by his emotions, with gratefulness as the stronger one. For all their fights and their deals there was no better friend than Tom in the whole world. He wanted to throw his arms around the other boy and never let him go, but even with their close friendship it would have been a bit much. Thankfully Minnie's presence and Tom's formality held him back. It would have been all too easy to reveal too much.
Still, his emotions needed a way to express themselves and when Minnie had bided them a hasty retreat he had clasped Tom loosely at arm's length, held for dear life and uttered the most heartfelt. . .
“Thank you!” ever leaving his lips.
He'd expected to be ridiculed of course, but for the first and, probably, only time in his life Tom looked taken aback and genuinely touched. Then he clasped his own hands around Harry's biceps, closing their circle, and spoke very softly.
“You are welcome.”
Something unidentified passed between them.
The moment held, like infinity, until Zevi started coughing discreetly.
“If you two don't need me, may I leave?” his face was bright red and looked something worse than uncomfortable.
Harry coloured too and his hands fell like they weighed a ton. How much had he shouted with his actions? Tom in turn looked like nothing was out of the ordinary and simply tilted his head in acknowledgement. But Harry, for all his embarrassment, couldn't dismiss him like that, Zev was also his friend.
“Thanks Zevi, I mean it. Sorry to make you wait like that.” he said at least.
“Any time.” Zevi turned to leave but he stopped mid-off and asked. “Would it have been better if I'd flown too instead of staying down?”
Harry felt a rush of warmth and it leaked in his voice.

“No, not really, I needed time with myself and she intruded, quite rudely to tell the truth.”
Zevi nodded and left them alone.
Finally Tom's arms fell as well.
“I didn't do it only for you;” he told Harry casually, “everything that happens to you reflects to me, I couldn't leave Walburga with such a victory, or even Dumbledore. If he had managed to do something like that to you the next step it would have been to repeat it on me.”
Harry felt like he was floating in the clouds. Nothing in Tom's, too logical, voice bothered him, instead it was quite reassuring.
Nothing had changed. Still he couldn't keep the laughter in his voice when he answered.
“I know that Tom, you don't have to worry.”
Tom's eyes narrowed.

“Glad to hear.” then he smiled, “So had fun with the girlfriend?” his voice turned stinging sweet, bad, bad, sigh, even without the smile.
Salazar! The joke was getting older by the second. Harry managed not to splutter and offered a dangerous smile of his own.

“Actually, yes, we had a great time.”
“Obviously, you looked quite animated, care to share the fun?” Tom raised an eyebrow.
“No, not really.” The mere thought of Tom viewing Minerva's teasing was enough to make him want to get drownen in the lake.
“Come now, Harry, we're not kids, you can tell me, I'd share too.” he leant forwards, looking eager.
Somehow this was much worse than Tom hitting on him; it was a new type of teasing with an unfamiliar quality in Tom's voice that was making Harry wary. The cherry on top was that this was a game he really couldn't and wouldn't play.
“Not on your life, Mione is going to kill us both if you breathe a word on your personal moments.”
“You really think I can't handle her?” the tone was decidedly dangerous.
Oh. . . this was leaving teasing behind and moved into something precarious. No matter how many times they played each other's therapist this was a subject he would rather avoid. He held his broom tighter, but he couldn't stay silent forever.
“On everything but this, yes. If you want to keep her, that's it.” he said at least.
Tom could probably get away with many questionable things and Harry wondered if the oath covered such things, the last thing he needed was to have to console a heartbroken Hermione. Things were awkward as they were.
Finally Tom nodded curtly.

“Don't worry; I don't plan on breaking her.”
Harry couldn't help a sigh of relief.
“So, Harry you aren't going to share anything?”
He was like a dog with a bone, Harry wanted to hit him.
“Two things,” he said finally, “Minnie's brother's employment seems to be perfect for you and Minnie is on board with helping us.”
“Hmm, its Minnie now,” Tom drawled, “Don't you even think that you will get away with talking to Minerva before swearing, but, just because I'm bored, what exactly is it that her precious brother does?”

Harry smirked, he'd got him now.

“He's a Silveror.”
Tom tried to play it indifferently but his eyes had gone alight with interest at the mentioning of the term.
“Not a bad place to start if things don't work here, good call!”
Harry's smirk widened and became a smile. Well look at that, he may get his dream to see Tom a lawyer after all. . .
“Don't you dare smile on me now!” Tom snapped abruptly.

“Not after spilling to Minerva before finishing negotiations.”
Harry's expression fell. Bad, bad move to relax around Tom.
“She was here, I used my chance, it would have been idiotic to search for her another time. And I thought that we were in agreement?”
Tom smirked, shark like.
“Only unofficially, and you can't tell me you are that eager to trust her after Dumbledore's tricks.”
Harry was resolute.

“You'd be surprised, but if you're so worried, I got her to swear first.”

Well, not to the degree he implied, but unlike some long dead arsehole, he trusted Minerva.
“Not always enough, but I suppose that it will do.” Tom's reasoning followed the same vein as his, even with the closed mind link. “Now swear, or do you want me to repeat the terms?”
Harry raised a hand.

“Wait a moment; aren't you going to swear too?”
“Why should I, you're the one in dept?” he said, but there was approval in his eyes.
“Tom,” Harry replied warningly, and that was it.
Tom may play this dramatically but it was apparent that he was having fun.
“What are your counter terms?”
“I want you to swear to teach the students, no matter their year, or if you like them, to the best of your ability without slating or truly scaring them.”
“That's all?” Tom asked arrogantly.
“Do you want me to add more?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows.
“I don't really care, but I take it that the last part came from Minerva dearest.” Tom tried pretty hard to look like he was pouting.
“How did you figure it out?” Harry forced his lips to not twitch.
Tom shook his head.

“Harry, darling, you are keeping really bad companies.”
“And you figured this now after three plus years?” Harry answered, staying completely expressionless.
They kept a completely straight face for only a moment or so and then they cracked in wide grins. Harry swore flawlessly without reminder, cheekily adding that it was binding only if Tom kept his own terms and Tom followed suit with a pretence of distaste.
“Let's get back, hero.”
“Oh, I don't know, Tom, maybe it should be you the one called hero, you saved my neck after all, hell you even came to the dreadful Quidditch pitch to get me. . .”
Harry's teasing was nine parts sincere and one part something else.
“Don't push your luck, sweetheart, and as a point of reference I always save your neck. . . .”
~*~
The day passed slowly after that. The only excitement came at lunch when an embarrassed Headmaster Dippet honoured Tom and Harry by giving them an award for their courage during the battle in Hogsmeade. There was not a single mention of the day's incident, yet there wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that there was a correlation between the two.
For Harry, the day passed torturously slow for completely different reasons. Firstly because many from the older years kept a wide berth from him, giving him fearful looks. Now, whether that was because they believed him capable of doing something distasteful as this, or were guilty of doing something like that themselves, Harry didn't know. Frankly he really didn't care but he was getting more tired and annoyed by the second.
What truly bothered Harry could be surmised in two words: Walburga Black!
The Black heiress had been fearful when he and Tom had returned to school but as the hours passed the girl had regained her haughtiness. Harry wasn't sure if it was acting skills or if she really was stupid enough to believe she could get away, but in either case, even though there were still flashes of intense anger at the pit of his stomach, he had started pitying her.
There was no way on Earth that Tom could ever let something like this pass for a thousand reasons, the motivation for the delay laid probably to the fact that whatever Tom planned to do, it wasn't going to be some simple curses or even easily curable.
Harry wasn't the only one who thought so; he could see it in the anticipatory grins that were exchanged between Brax and Zevi or Sweet Salazar! Alphard and Mione. . . Normally he and Tom would handle things just between them and the offender, but this time the crime had been too malicious, too public, to be handled in private.
The only one completely serene to their table was Tom, who was eating his dinner, calmly as you please, with an expression so angelic that butter wasn't going to melt in his mouth. Dumbledore was the single person in the hall looking suspiciously at him. Harry wondered if they should leave disillusioned guards just outside the common room in case the old man wanted to grace them with his presence, but he doubted Dumbledore would visit. He wasn't one to give much attention in the scions of dark families, except if he had something to gain. . . definitely guards then; if they got caught it was expulsion.
Harry would be a liar if he didn't admit that a portion of excitement wasn't flowing in his veins too. As it was, he was torn between a secret vindictive glee and the pain of his principles. But, for once, the battle wasn't quite that hard, his ethics stood alone not based in caring. He wasn't ready to forgive her, not for a real good while yet, and even if he could spare her in Sirius' memory and beg Tom for her, falling on his knees, it wouldn't change a thing.
He was resigned in that part happening, what he wasn't ready for was that he must participate at the torture as well. He had tortured another person only twice before, Lestrange, and the second, physical, time had been almost immediately after the bastard had grievously hurt Mione, so it wasn't difficult to find incentive. But it wouldn’t be too different right now; half a day later wasn't going to be enough to forgive. If he recalled the humiliating moment for a second his blood started burning.
The problem was that he was going to torture her not out of his anger but because he had to. He was certain that Tom hadn't mentioned randomly that Harry's actions reflected on him, it was a direct warning to compose himself, but even if that wasn't the case, even if he could consider writing Tom off (impossible) there was another reason that was making the whole debate academic: Survival.
There weren't many times that the political games in Slytherin turned lethal. Most of the time the fights were conducting with words, and for that reason, alone, it was easier in Gryffindor to get violent. But when these things happened in Slytherin they had repercussions. Harry was ready to retaliate after Walburga's vicious attack because if he didn't, if he simply left Tom and his friends to do it for him, he was going to be considered either Tom's pet, at best, or canon folder, at worst, and anyone's plaything.
Harry wasn't going to let himself get in such vulnerable position, for someone he cared about he could lay down his life, but for dearest Walburga now, it wasn't worth it. After all, Burgs wasn't going to die, or even take permanent harm, no matter how she may wish it, in the course of the night.
Yes, Harry was still furious; he was probably going to get fewer problems than he was anticipating.
Finally dinner was over, Tom got up and the rest of the house slowly followed suit. Walburga looked like she wanted to stall but a sharp look from Tom stopped the notion, the Black girl then raised her head and walked first to the dungeons. Harry supposed there were negative and positive things in pureblood arrogance.
When they reached the common room, Walburga tried once again to get away to her dorm, but an ever-increasing circle from students of all years cut the way. Seeing that there was no way out she stood at her full height, waiting.
Finally, Tom approached her.
“Walburga Black,” he started formally, “I have always respected your family and held its members in high estimation isn't that true?”
Alphard, Orion and even little Cygnus, the first year, acknowledged concurrently that it was true.
“And, yet, today you tried to grievously, unjustly, hurt, not merely one of mine, but a dearest member of my own family. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Harry's breath got caught in his throat. Tom had referred him many times before as family but it was almost always an of hand comment. This time it was publicly, formally acknowledged in front their whole house, more so, Tom had enacted the pureblood code, giving everything an official gravity. Harry had never expected something like that. For a moment the room went swimming in front of his eyes but he fought his weakness, focusing his entire attention upon Walburga.
“I, Walburga Black, don't recognise you, Tom Marvolo Riddle,” she stressed the surname, “the Right of Retribution. You are a halfblood, and hereby not my peer, to be entitled to exact that right.”
Every breath choked in the room. Tom's eyes flashed. No one expected such a direct challenge. That was the problem with Tom going the traditional route, if it was not properly responded to, even if Tom killed her, he was still going to lose face.
“My blood and my magic give me the right,” Tom answered simply, with something that went beyond haughtiness.
He was right of course; no one in Slytherin house could deny this. The blood traits and gifts of his line were obvious and he was recognized as the most magical gifted person in the school. The pureblood heirs (most of the house) acknowledged this.
“We, recognize you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Right of Retribution.”
Tom was ready to resume when Alphard came forward. The room froze, expecting him to either challenge Tom or plead for his sister. He did neither.
“I, Alphard Cepheous Black, not only recognise Tom Marvolo Riddle the Right of Retribution but also acknowledge, in stead of my father Cepheous, that my sister dishonoured our most ancient and noble family and am thereby handing her to him to punish as he sees fit. So Mote Be.”
This was completely unexpected, Alphard, could have shown his support as a friend and follower by simply standing by Tom's side. This was his revenge, for Harry.
Walburga's eyes almost bulged out, her haughty resolve shattered.
“Father is going to flay your back for this.” she hissed.
Alphard smiled grimly, the usual playfulness and geniality gone like a pouf of smoke. He was every bit the proud Black heir.
“No he won't, not if he learns everything.”
Walburga lowered her head in humiliation and two tears started trailing her face.
Tom came forward again and instead of the angry tightening on his lips, that Harry half feared for Alphard stealing his moment, there was a brief, almost warm for Tom's standards, nod of approval.
“I will repeat once again, Walburga Black, what do you have to say for yourself? Or do you forfeit that right?” Tom's melodious voice hushed the room once again.
Walburga pulled herself, hastily, together and wetted her lips.
“I respected you, Tom Marvolo Riddle,” she said with poise. “You were going to become our Lord, Lord Voldemort, and clean our world from the muggle taint. What happened to you? Why did you throw away your noble ideas and start consorting with halfbloods and mudbloods?”
A small snicker sounded at the back, as with the last question the reason of Walburga's aggravation became apparent, but even that was muffed immediately. But for all the momentary hilarity, there were many faces that were clouded in consternation and doubt. It was impossible for Tom to not answer in such a direct confront. Tom was probably swearing a blue streak inside, now, and deeply regretting invoking the Great Justice Rite, but there was no way to back out.
Still no one could even dream that there was an inch of disquiet from looking at Tom's figure. He looked calm, collected, totally relaxed and more magnificent than ever.
“My friends,” he started, “I never made secret my total revulsion and loathing for muggles. That hasn't changed and never will, but politics and the best for our world have nothing to do with emotions and while I'm still inclined towards total separation and intend to enforce it, given the chance, that partition shouldn't and wouldn't involve our mudborns. . .
I have grown up, as you must too, and instead of simply dreaming I have studied and understood. We are not even half the wizards our forefathers were, in a couple generations our children will be even less.” (Abraxas nodded grimly in acknowledgement) “We need new blood; our mudborns and halfbloods to enrich our bloodlines and make us strong again, else in a few generations there will be nothing left than a few weaklings capable of lumos lost in an ocean of muggles.”
There was an angry muttering around the room after Tom's last statement, but no one dared to directly challenge him. There was not a single sift of unease in Tom's posture with the crowd's disapproval. If anything, he looked even more relaxed than before, with his eyes sparkling, and the barest hint of smile gracing his lips. He is enjoying this, Harry realised with a start.
“My friends,” Tom continued, his voice softer, yet somehow, even more commanding than before forcing absolute silence.

“I am a halfblood. Yet, no one, in this room, in this castle, can dispute my power. Some of you have even bestowed me with the title of Lord, even with Grindelwald's imposing shadow just outside our walls, what is that telling us? More, the only one capable of reaching my power is also halfblood,” he looked at Harry, making it clear that he meant him, just in case some had doubts.

“Consider this carefully, fellow Slytherins, before you wind up in any conclusions.”
Tom took a deep breath, letting his audience absorb his words.
“But the fact that mudborns and halfbloods are ours does not mean in any way or form that we should compromise our heritage on their behalf. There are magical means that can recognise a magical child at birth, or, at worst case, first accidental magic.

We are going to get those children, hold them close and build our world to greatness with them.”
The crowd got wild; the impassive Slytherins looked ready to raise him on their arms but something in his stance held them back, even those that a few moments ago were looking at him with doubt now held a look of contemplation and hope. Even Mione, who wasn't sanguine with the last part, looked excited and happy.
Harry was ready to burst with happiness; he was so full with pride. The first time, the rise of Voldemort, based on old tripe, signified an age of horrors. This time, this chance, the rise of Tom Marvolo Riddle was full of hope and based in something worthwhile. Harry believed in this, believed in Tom. Everything was worth it.
“Friends,” Tom's voice rose a bit to be heard in the chaos, “This is not the place, nor the time, for this, we have another purpose. Think on everything that I have told you and come to me in a few days.”
Everyone quieted, the circle was resumed. Walburga looked at Tom with a new fear in her eyes, not only for the pain that he was going to inflict on her, but for the Lord he was truly becoming.
Still, she held her wand in a hand that looked to be made entirely from bone and held her ground. She didn't beg. Harry, for all he still wanted to bash her head in a wall, couldn't help feeling a reluctant admiration for that. After all, Sirius must have gotten his steely determination from somewhere.
Tom disarmed her and fast as lighting cast a wandless Parsel spell to protect her vital organs. Harry recognised the spell and was more than appreciative. Finally, he levitated her wand at Alphard, in a surprisingly courteous move, so that it wouldn't get damaged in the proceedings.
Preparations completed, he made a small bow at Harry.

“Harrison, the direct offence was against you, the first strike is yours.”
Harry accepted graciously, and even though his stomach was tight, he was ready. Still, for all the graveness, he couldn't resist and as he traded places with Tom he opened the link and offered a mental ‘Wow’ for the performance and a ‘Thanks’ for his consideration. Tom’s lighting fast grin was answer enough.
Walburga obviously hadn't learned her lesson, and for all the respect she had shown Tom she still looked at Harry underneath her nose, like he was something dirty. Harry didn't mind, there was enough time to show her the mistake.
Suddenly, feeling much more at ease than he had expected, Harry decided to start small. A few breaking bone curses were just the thing. With a few calculations he made the breaks the nastiest possible, not on her main body of course, but her limbs. He even managed to writhe out and a few pain cries from her chest.
Felling adventurous, he decided to really take his revenge. A bit of concentration and every bone in her wand hand was shattered. She was going to heal that hand, but, unless she decided to vanish every bone in said hand and re-grow it with skele-gro, she was going to feel it for the rest of her life.
He was considering his next move when Tom's hand in his shoulder broke his focus.

“That was enough.”
That was all?

For a moment Harry felt cheated. But as he took his place back to the circle he was also relieved. His part, at least, was over.
In addition, some of the others were looking at him, winching and rubbing gingerly their hands.

He had made an impression; at least, he wasn't completely ridiculous.
Hermione took the spot after him. Her electroshock curses were impressive and made quite the stir with her creativity, but even she wasn't allowed for long. Then Zevi, then Brax, not Alphard.
Finally, Tom took the spotlight. In the start he made a show of healing everything, except the hand, to give her a brief respite from the pain, all the crueller for it.
He then built from it. Harry had seen Tom torture before, had been under his Cruciatus, once. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could be compared to this.
The time that Tom had him under the Cruciatus it looked like he was making it a chore, bored out of his mind. The day of Lestrange's execution, he had played with his victim until he got bored and dispatched him. There had been revenge then, a long time coming, but it was a cold anger.
This time it was different, it was fresh and was very, very, personal. Tom was beyond angry but also completely in control. His curses inflicted the maximum possible pain for the longest duration. Yet, he was also very careful to not create permanent damage that could impede her having children.
Harry couldn't lie to himself. This was happening for him! Oh, he didn't doubt that Walburga's defiance played its part, she had probably infuriated the Slytherin Heir beyond belief, but this was happening because she dared to threaten him. Tom had claimed him as his, family, and anyone and anything that dared to hurt him in any way was going to be destroyed beyond recognition.
It took over an hour! Most had grown weary but no one dared to leave. Mione looked faintly green and was steadied by Zevi. Harry was in a strange meditative stage, somewhere between horror and terrible admiration. Tom's moves had become fluid as he throw curse after curse at Walburga, rebuilding her and destroying her, without feeling the tiredness. For, there was no way that he wasn't tired, not after such mental and physical exertion.
Harry wanted to believe that he was truly repulsed, but he couldn't. Not here and not now. There was a dark part of him, not even the smallest, that was thrilled with this brutal declaration. He was loved; he belonged, and was never going to be left alone again. After all the feelings were a two way street. If anyone dared to even think about hurting Tom he was going to respond with infinitely worse than bone breaking curses.
Finally, even Tom had enough. He crunched down, whispering something in Walburga's ear that made her whimper in horror, beyond even crying at this point, and nodded at Zevi to take care of her with his potions.
Tom got up and Harry took in his whole form. Tom's hair was unkempt, the barely there wave almost forming curls. His brow and just prior to the upper lip was doted with beads of sweat. Harry wanted to taste them. Their eyes met, Tom's were a strange, stormy, combination between violet and red, barely a step before madness.
He should be afraid, instead, he realised that everything intimate he had dreamed for him and Tom, before, were childish games. He didn't want just chaste hugs anymore, he wanted to touch and taste, everywhere. He wanted to lose himself in everything that Tom was, to revel in it. Harry should have been terrified and disgusted, but he wasn't. Tom returned every single one of his feelings with a passion that was nearly inhuman. The only thing Harry could do was to take everything in, accepting him, and offer everything he was in return.
The room had disappeared. Nothing else existed in the universe except the two of them. Harry wasn't thinking how or why, the only thing that mattered was being with Tom. There was no room for doubts, their blazing open connection making sure of it. Harry took unconsciously a step forward and Tom. . . Tom's eyes were cooling, their link closing, like a heavy door at his face.
Tom suddenly yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“It's late, people, go to sleep.”
Everyone, except the six of them, left the room like they were on fire.
Tom acknowledged each of them with an appraising look.

“Gentlemen, it was a success.” he offered Hermione his arm. “Coming Hermione?” he asked charmingly.
Harry didn't understand a thing. How could Tom act like it was absolute nothing? It had happened - that moment had happened! - And not even Tom's acting talent at its best could convince him otherwise.
He approached Tom without hesitation; for all that the other's posture now was screaming danger and was striding, all but dragging Mione with him, towards the door and grabbed him by the arm. He had the right.
“Tom, what the hell happened?” he asked trying not to explode.
“Not now Harry, please.” there was no infection in Tom's voice, but that word? Unheard!
Harry's hand left Tom's sleeve like it was made of acid. He didn't know the reason for the backing off but he was going to follow Tom request and give him time.
He was left alone with the three Slytherins and a semiconscious Walburga.
“What's wrong Harry?” Zevi asked.
He forced himself to smile almost carefree.
“Nothing, that it can't be handled in a few hours. Don't worry Zev.” for the first time ever Zev was too wrung out and bought it. But Brax was looking at him with too sharp eyes, he had seen. . . Thankfully, Alphard seemed oblivious, caring for his sister.
Abruptly, everything was falling in his head, he needed time alone, to think and understand, if anything had changed at all. Because with a sudden feeling, like a lead, he knew that nothing was really going to change.
~*~

Tom's pov

Tom was pacing like a caged tiger, trying to come to grips with what had happened. He had denied Harry. For a single, glorious, moment he had everything he ever desired, the true start of his empire, and undeniable, positive, proof that Harry felt, for him, the same way.
He had been forced to deny Harry and to continue denying him.
He wasn't used into refusing himself things, especially those so desired, but he didn't have a choice. Not only for something as simple as the fact that if they got any closer than they were (almost impossible), it would be near unfeasible to keep Harry away from his research, but for something far more sinister. . .
Harry had been excited seeing him torture Walburga!
That wasn't Harry.
Therefore, it was quite possible that all those emotions Harry had projected at him were a by-product of bloodlust or, worse, the madness. It was more than probable; Harry never held that kind of feelings before tonight.
He was never going to be sure until he managed to help Harry reabsorb the horcrux safely.
Until then, he was going to keep his hands to himself at any cost. It was never that difficult before.
He was going to manage. Harry would accept him gladly now, but when Tom accepted anything at half measure? He wanted Harry but he wanted him whole.

For all his weariness, he needed more exertion to be able to finally shoot out his mind and body. He didn't dare to head to the RoR or the chamber. Harry was prowling the castle, and for the first time in his life Tom wasn't sure that his will was going to be enough to refuse Harry, for a second time tonight, if he asked.
The next months were going to be hell.
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