Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3327026.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle, Voldemort, Albus_Dumbledore, Abraxas_Malfoy,
      Original_Characters, Lucius_Malfoy, Narcissa_Black_Malfoy, Bellatrix
      Black_Lestrange, Orion_Black, Walburga_Black, Severus_Snape, James
      Potter, Lily_Evans_Potter, Remus_Lupin, Sirius_Black, Peter_Pettigrew,
      Gellert_Grindelwald, Aberforth_Dumbledore, Ariana_Dumbledore, Weasley
      Family_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Time_Travel, Harry-centric, Bottom_Harry, Grey_Harry,
      Unmotivated_Harry, Lazy_Harry, inventions, Human_Experimentations, Harry
      adopted_Tom
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-10 Updated: 2015-09-26 Chapters: 8/? Words: 25343
****** The Tale of a Mad Inventor ******
by GenderlessPerson
Summary
     What to do… What to do… That was all Harry could think about as he
     lazed around his home, watching through half-lidded eyes as his
     adopted son plotted world domination.
Notes
     I do not own Harry Potter.... and I wish that this can be imported
     from FFnet.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
The oppressive silence of the night was deafening as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-
Lived and Savior-Turned-Hermit, woke up in the middle of nowhere, blind as a
bat without his round wire-framed glasses.
A jaw-breaking yawn stretched across his deceivingly young face, with wide
blurry emerald eyes blinking in vain to try and clear his clouded vision. Not
one to be bothered by the sudden change of his sleeping arrangements – from a
dirty hard floor to a field of soft muddy grass – he proceeded to stand on
shaky legs.
With an impassive face, he dug through his memories to figure out how he came
to this predicament. He was as usual, conducting experiments on poor
unsuspecting Squibs – his newest pet project – when he knocked one of his
tinkered potions down and fainted immediately soon afterwards. He was clumsy
after a few days of all-nighters!
Now that he thought back, it was kind of embarrassing to not know that your own
inventions could knock you out in a second after inhalation. At least he could
add that into his mental notes; P27 could be used as a formidable knock up gas.
After he… fell asleep… his lab rat must’ve been freed from her bindings – the
restrains needed his magic to fuel them. Harry considered himself lucky that he
was dumped someplace unknown rather than being violently murdered for kidnaping
the Squib and cutting her open without remorse. She was awfully lucky that he
fell unconscious after healing her.
Since he was already in an unknown territory without his glasses, wand, and
tools (all of his pockets were empty), he decided that he was an idiot for not
correcting his eyesight when he was free. He always had the image that glasses
and white lab coats would suit his current occupationto a Tee. Oh and now he
had to hunt down that runaway Squib before she squeals to the Prophet that the
Wizarding World’s Savior is actually a mad surgeon with an addiction of
conducting human experimentations.
How bothersome. Next time he would use Muggle restrains… Such as handcuffs and
chains.  
Harry decided that he had had enough time dawdling (Merlin knows how long it’s
been) and pulled up his left sleeve to his elbows, revealing an arm full of
runic tattoos. He bit his right thumb to draw blood, before swiping it to one
of his tattoos on his left forearm. Not a Dark Mark if anyone’s wondering. It
was a circular shape as big his fist with squiggly lines filled inside –
Parselrunes.
The tattoo glowed crimson for a few seconds and Harry waited until it dimmed
down enough before plunging his hand into said tattoo. As he slowly began
pulling, a miniature trunk appeared in between his forefinger and thumb. The
crimson glow immediate stopped and reverted back to the usual black.
Harry, being the constantly exhausted person he was, dropped his trunk
unceremoniously down the muddy ground and waved lethargically over said trunk.
The leather brown trunk grew bigger in a slow manner, as if even it was as lazy
as its owner. 
Harry didn’t mind the wait and plopped himself onto the ground just in front of
it. It gave him time to organize his thoughts. After a few more minutes of
waiting, it was finally to its original size. 
“Godric.” He hissed out the password for his tools/weapons compartment in the
ancient tongue of Serpents. Harry never did figure out the reason as to why he
still retained his Parseltongue abilities even after the Horcrux was
obliterated, but accepted the fact with an idle shrug of his shoulders.
He took out various scalpels from within the compartment and absentmindedly
placed them on his person. Finally armed and feeling much protected, he closed
the trunk and returned it back to its matchbox-sized before forcing it into his
tattoo – it was bothersome to wait for the trunk to shrink and his blood to
sink into the rune.
“Now… Where the bloody hell am I?” He mumbled to himself as he slowly brought
his sleeves down.
Seeing that he could see nothing in the dark, he summoned a few balls of fire
to float around him as he began to walk leisurely. A few minutes passed by
before he remembered that he could have easily apparated to Leaky Cauldron. He
would’ve facepalmed himself if his arm didn’t feel so heavy.
“Perhaps P27 has side-effects that reduce a person’s cognitive abilities...” He
nodded to himself absently.
Without stopping his pace, he apparated mid-step and appeared in the middle of
Leaky Cauldron just in time for him to continue his next step. He tapped the
pattern onto the wall with his fingers sluggishly and entered Diagon Alley with
his hood up.
Luckily he had a hood that could partially cover his face sewn onto his lab
coat. He disliked how the sheep would point at him whilst gossiping loudly. As
much as it satisfied his sadistic side by killing Voldemort, the title of
Savior wasn’t worth it. He used to wish that he had had the power to rewind
time just so he could sit on a comfy chair to watch how the Wizard Community
fight their own battle, but alas, he became too slothful to even think of the
‘what ifs’.
He idly wondered if his personality change came from the need to defy the
Dursleys. They always had him run around without rest and when he grew older,
he just wanted to sit back and work with his butt firmly planted onto his
cushioned seat. It’s a wonder how his body remained fit with his unhealthy
eating and sleeping habits. He could only thank Hecate that his structure
didn’t turn out like his walrus of an uncle.
With an insufferable sigh, he entered a random shop and headed towards the
shopkeeper. The person standing behind the counter was blurry at best and Harry
couldn’t even identify the gender.
“Excuse me…” He drawled in a lazy manner – vastly different from the pompous
tone Snape used. “Do you mind pointing me to an optician’s shop?”
“No problem lad! Yer eyesight must’ve been really bad if ya can’t see it’s next
door.”
“Ah… Left?”
“Nay, right.”
“Thank you.”
Harry walked off without waiting for the man’s – his voice was too deep and
husky to be a female – reply. He entered what he guessed was the correct shop
and sauntered towards the counter.
“Evening. Does this place do eye-correction?”
“Oh yes! Welcome. Are you in need of it?”
“Yess.”
“Let’s see…” He heard a few drawers opening and closing, some glass clinking
together, and finally an ‘Aha!’ from the person. “Here it is. Follow me, lad.”
Harry’s eyebrows frowned when he was mistaken as a young boy once again. He
knew he looked young, but that could only be the results of epic genes. The
woman waved a blurry hand towards the direction of a wall, and only after
standing in front of said wall, noticed that it was actually a door.
“After applying three drops each, you need to wait half an hour without opening
your eyes. This is the room where our customers remain whilst they wait.”
He nodded and proceeded to the closest bed inside. It wasn’t as soft as the
ones he slept in back home, but it was much better than the floor he usually
passed out on. Who knows how many disgusting things had been accidently dropped
by yours truly? Even Kreacher screeched about how the stains were impossible to
remove.
“How much?”
“Twenty galleon per eye.” That’s was… kind of cheap. He roughly estimated that
it would’ve been around hundred or so.
“Alright.”
“Be sure to keep them firmly shut after I apply. It might bring slight
discomfort but nothing else.” She reassured as she did just that. After telling
him to call her if he needed anything else, she walked off to who knows where.
A few minutes past before his eyes started itching like mad. Harry wondered if
scratching was allowed. Not wanting to take a risk that could lead him to him
losing his sight, he retreated into his mind so that he could refresh his
memories on what his latest test Subject looked like –he needed to hunt her
down ASAP. Or maybe have Kreacher do it. He is the Black’s House-elf.
It wasn’t his fault that faces of people that aren’t important were blurred
from his mind. His Squib-rat had wavy chestnut brown hair that reached mid
back, honey hazel round eyes with thin and short lashes, a bigger than average
hooked nose, and sausage lips. She had a round face and her body was average at
best, with B cup breasts. She was also naturally tanned.
He couldn’t recall what her name was but he did remember branding his Squib-rat
SR12 on her left forearm. She was his twelfth experiment and he knew that he
would solve the mystery behind why Squibs were unable to use Magic by the end
of his fiftieth or so Squib-rats. He was confident and had the right to be. It
wasn’t arrogance if it’s true.
His experiments were usually fruitful, like how he had created his very own
Philosopher’s Stone with a few more positive additional effects, or what
happened to a soul after being eaten by a Dementor. He also did a lot of weird
tests and created new Potions and objects when he had sudden inspiration.  
Not wanting to think back to how Dumbledore had locked his capabilities when he
was but a mere toddler, he solidified his newest memories into orbs and placed
them onto his memory shelves. His mindscape was an exact replica of the Hall of
Prophecy, with serpents roaming around to guard the place. Only Parseltongues
were able to stop his beautiful guards, since he commanded his lovelies to
attack anyone, including allies. He would take no chances since the information
pertaining to his experimentations had been stored into his red orbs –they were
dangerous to both Magicals and Muggles alike.    
Many would think that he was maybe an intermediate Occlumens due to his mind
not having any outer walls, but Harry made it that way due to his sadistic
nature. He took great pleasure in viewing a person convulse in front of him
when they tried to enter his mind. No matter how many times he had warned the
general public that his mind was a dangerous place, some still tried. Of course
his snakes had their fun and after a moment, the person would be declared brain
dead or insane.
One of his reasons of being a Hermit was because majority of the sheep wanted
him shipped off into Azkaban. As amusing as it is for them to accuse him of
being a Dark Lord in the making, he preferred lazing around on his bed most of
the time if there were no projects to be done. If the work of a Dark Lord was
to sleep and work at his own pace, perhaps he would try in the future.
He was dragged out from his mindscape when someone shook his shoulder. Harry
discreetly had one of his scalpels in his hand.
“Young man?” The woman’s voice flowed to his ears. “You can open your eyes
now.”
Harry did just and retracted his scalpel. His eyes watered at the lighting and
he blinked a few times to rid of his tears. His vision was finally cleared and
he could see without anything being blurred, much to his relief. Though now he
would have to make his own fake glasses to keep his scientist image.
“How is it? Can you see clearly? Any complications?”
“Mm… No complications.”
Harry sat up and handed her the required fee before leaving the store after
thanking her. Once he was outside, he froze. Diagon Alley looked different… Too
different even with his ten years of being a Hermit in self-exile. He had never
seen some of the shops before.
Furthermore, the Wizards and Witches were wearing outdated (more than their
already outdated fashion style) clothing that could only be from the 1920s or
30s. Did the Wizarding Community regress whilst he was busy chopping apart
humans!?
===============================================================================
 
Rainbows and Absinthe,  
GenderlessPerson
***** Chapter 2 *****
                               “Human Language”
                                “Gobbledygook”
                                “Parseltongue”
===============================================================================
 
Date: Unknown
Location: Diagon Alley
Harry didn’t know how long he stood there with his jaw slacked open and
catching flies, but he was forced to snap out of his stupor when something
crashed into him, hard. He was abruptly pinned by a heavy weight onto the
ground and he struggled for air.
“G-…Get… off… me!”
The weight left him not a moment too soon and he gulped in air like his life
depended on it. Oh oxygen, how I have missed you so!Harry glared, his face
flushing red, at the man still straddling his hips. He wouldn’t mind if it was
a gorgeous babe or sexy bloke, but this one was definitely not his cup of tea.
The man’s greenish-yellowish eyes were dazed, whilst his straw blonde hair was
disarray. Harry’s narrowed eyes became wide for a split second as he recognized
the man sitting on top of him. It was Slughorn. A younger, still chubby,
version of Slughorn.
Slughorn’s eyes suddenly focused onto Harry and he hurriedly got off. Harry
sighed in relief as his eyes went back to their customarily half-lidded state.
Slughorn pulled him up with an apologetic smile on his face.
“Oh do forgive me, dear boy. I was busy reading the Prophet you see?” The round
man waved his newspaper.
Harry was quick to snatch said newspaper from those chubby digits, not hearing
the undignified squawk Slughorn made. He was solely focus on the year: 1937. It
was impossible. Even with all his genius (he was not a modest man), he had
never accomplished in making a time-turner that could turn back years. His
latest result was forty-eight hours at most, no more!
Before he could think more on the subject, the paper was plucked out from his
grasp.
“I would’ve lent it to you if you simply asked!” Slughorn frown in disapproval.
Harry only blinked.
“My apologies… Excuse me.” Harry nodded towards the round man and for the first
time in a decade, moved with haste towards nowhere in particular.
The first thing he could think about was how his projects would need to be
redone, and all his inventions remade. The second thing he thought about was
how he had to rebuild his entire lab from scratch. Lastly, he thought about how
he could possibly land in the past –talk about priorities.
The gears in his noggin were turning at a rapid rate as he produced and
disposed ideas.
He recalled that P27 was an improved version of a sleeping draught –and a
sleeping draught, no matter how powerful, would not be able to make a person
travel decades into the past! His time-turner was not anywhere near him at that
moment so he could disregard the idea of it being drenched by P27.  
He could try to use trial and error, by remaking the whole scene. But he wasn’t
sure if the potion had any side-effects for direct inhalation. What if it was
addictive and akin to glue sniffing those Muggles did? His brain would be
severely damaged.
A dream, illusion or hallucination is a negative, since nothing in his
mindscape was damaged and that he could feel how his sight became clear half an
hour ago. Not to mention how he almost died by suffocation just minutes before.
The only thing he could do for now is to set up a place to live, build an
underground lab and conduct experiments. If one of his test subjects
disappeared or became brain dead, the situation he was in could be clearer
–though he doubt that he was currently brain dead… or insane.
With that thought, he turned his heels and head towards Gringotts at a more
steady pace.
===============================================================================
 
“May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers, Mr. Goblin.” Harry greeted
with his usual drawl when he reached the front line, more than a little annoyed
at the feeling of shortness when compared to the Goblin on the other side of
the high counter.  
The creature looked shocked at a wizard speaking his native tongue, but
composed himself shortly.
“May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers…”
“Potter, Hadrian Potter. I wish to see of any inheritance I could claim.”
“Griphook will lead you to room 4, Mr. Potter. Griphook!” The elder Goblin
yelled for Griphook –whom looked eerily young compared to how he last saw
him.“Take Mr. Potter to Inheritance room 3.”
The younger Goblin bowed and led Harry. When he was about to enter, he turned
towards Griphook and thanked him in perfect Gobbledygook, which shocked the
Goblin so much that his jaws dropped. Harry smirked lazily and closed the door
behind him as he entered. He always loved making those arrogant Goblins lose
their composure –the only reason why he even bothered to learn Gobbledygook.
“Three drops of blood in this bowl.” The Goblin spat out bluntly.
Harry took no offence as he knew that Goblins preferred to not waste time –time
is gold. He took a seat in front of the Goblin’s desk and cut his finger before
dropping three drops of blood into the bowl. He made sure to wipe the dagger
clean before returning it to the Gornuk (there was a nameplate). Blood could be
used in a lot of rituals, and many were binding. Wouldn’t want to be betrothed
to a stranger just because of his carelessness now would he?
They waited in silence since they both had no desire for idle chatter. Gornuk
continued his work whilst Harry face-planted onto the desk –he was tired to the
bones. He sincerely hoped that he at least had one inheritance he could claim.
Being a bastard of the Potters wasn’t an option since he didn’t need any
limelight –or worst, forced into living with them.
Being a Mudblood was also not an option he desired in his books. He didn’t mind
himself being a Half-blood though, since he knew that they were the strongest
no matter what those Pureblood scums say. He, along with Voldemort and
Dumbledore were living proofs of that fact.
Just as Harry dozed off, he was shaken awake by a grumpy Goblin. Gornuk looked
like he wanted nothing to do but sanitize his hands in an instance for even
touching vile Wizards. Harry didn’t blame him; he would’ve all but peeled the
skin on his hands if he were to touch a Pureblood. Yes he was being blood-cist
–but it wasn’t his fault that those scums nearly broke him.
“Your results.” Gornuk bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile as he placed a
parchment in front of Harry.
Name: Hadrian James Potter
Blood-status: Half-Blood
Age: 32
Parents: James Charlus Potter (Biological Father – Deceased), Lily Rose Potter
née Evans (Biological Mother – Deceased )
Godparent(s): Sirius Orion Black (Godfather – Deceased)
Inheritance Results:
Secondary Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter by Blood (Lordship
revoked)
Secondary Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black by Blood and
Heritage (Lordship revoked)
Secondary Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin by Blood,
Magic, Soul and Conquest (Lordship revoked)
Direct Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Gryffindor by Blood
Direct Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell by Blood
It seems that when he traveled to the past, his status as Lord Potter-Black-
Slytherin was nullified, and he was a backup of all things. He would be feeling
highly insulted about this if he wasn’t a Hermit who hated Lordship gatherings
– he was forced to go at least once a year (which he appeared for ten minutes
before departing). 
“Mm… Does this mean I could be the direct heir if one of these three were to
have an… accident of some kind?” Harry questioned as he peered up lazily to the
Goblin whilst he pointed at the first three.
“Correct. Since you are of age you may be the Lord of two of these Houses.”
Gornuk pointed to the bottom two. “If the rings accept you, that is.”
“Is it possible to change your name after inheriting those Lordships?”
“It is.”
Gornuk took out two small boxes and placed them in front of Harry. He opened
them, revealing two golden signet rings with their respective insignia. The
Gryffindor was that of a Lion surrounded by red and gold whilst the Peverell
had the mark of the Deathly Hallows.
He placed Gryffindor’s on his left forefinger and the Peverell ring on his left
ring finger. They both glowed before resizing to fit him perfectly as they
accepted him as the new family Lord. He willed the Peverell ring to be
invisible to anyone who doesn’t know of his status.
“I would like to be renamed as Hadrian Seirios Gryffindor (he didn’t want to
put –Peverell as well) in my identification certificate.” Harry knew it was
unwise to come out with the name Peverell when Grindelwald was running around
unsupervised. If he wanted a quiet life, Gryffindor was the lesser evil. “I
trust that this will not be getting out?”
“Gringotts will ensure their client’s confidentiality, Lord Gryffindor.” Gornuk
bared his teeth, and Harry smirked inwards.
“Is there a vault manager for both?”
“There is. Do you wish to hold a discussion with them now?”
“As much as I would love to sleep right now… Yes I need to see them. Send them
my new name certificate whilst you’re at it will you?” Harry answered
reluctantly, his face turning into a grimace.
“We will deduct ten galleons from one of your vaults for the test. Griphook
will lead you to Meeting room 7.”
The door opened revealing said Goblin, and Harry got up to follow. He paused at
the doorway, and sighed inward at his mistake. His mind must be really tired…
not that one could blame a Hermit for forgetting basic courtesy.
“Thank you. May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers, Gornuk.” Not
waiting for a reply, he closed the door and dragged his feet behind Griphook.
                                     OOOO
“I am the Manager of the Gryffindor Account, Bloodfang.” An elderly Goblin with
white hair said solemnly.
“I am the Manager of the Peverell Account, Sharptooth” An equally old Goblin
with a calm voice.
“Hadrian Gryffindor. Firstly, I would like to open two new vaults whilst making
a deposit.” Harry drawled as he dropped his chin onto his palm, his eyes
drooping in exhaustion.
They were gathered around a round table, with Bloodfang to his right and
Sharptooth to his left. Parchments were in front of them containing information
about his newly acquired vaults and properties.
“How much will you be depositing, and for whom will you be opening the vaults
for?” Bloodfang questioned as he took out his quill. He probably wasn’t
expecting much from the bastard son of the Potters.
Harry pulled up his right sleeve, revealing a few tattoos on his arm and bit
his left thumb. Back in his own time, he split his gold into halves. One kept
inside his vault whilst the other in his rune. Now that he thought about it,
his vault gold should’ve tripled after a decade worth of investments. What a
waste…
A drop of blood later, he pulled out a golden trunk and placed it onto the
table. Both Goblins looked on in interest at the rune designs on his arm, but
he ignored them in favor of resizing his trunk. It, like any other of his
personal trunks, grew bigger at a slower rate than any normal trunk would.  
Whilst they waited, he began explaining to both Goblins exactly what he wanted.
===============================================================================
 
31st December 1937
Location: Wool’s Orphanage
Harry didn’t know why he was even here. He really didn’t. Perhaps it was
because the boy would draw others in and leave him content in the shadows, or
perhaps he had just lost his mind in thinking that the boy would even want to
be adopted.
Nobody in their right state of mind would want to bring home a child that would
grow into a murderer – a very bloodthirsty killer at that. Well, he was being
hypocritical since he himself was a murderer at the age of eleven… or one
actually, but at least he didn’t plan on taking over Magical Britain.
He already invested so much for his plans, and he would not chicken out just
because Tom Riddle was staring at him without an ounce of emotion on his pretty
little face. Yes, Harry would openly admit that he thought Tom Marvolo Riddle,
the boy who became the most frightening Dark Lord in history, has a pretty
face.  
But no matter how young or pleasant Tom Riddle’s appearance is, Harry felt the
urge to cover the boy’s head with a paper bag. He preferred having a glare down
with old snake-face. At least he knew that that was a monster in both
personality and appearance. This… This however, he was more than terrified at
the prospect of how such an angelic little boy could be such a deceiving
demon.  
After a few weeks of being in the Past, Harry had set up his own base in
Scotland. It was Unplottable and hidden with the finest ward he had known and
made. As much as he would love to continue being a Hermit, his name was too
well known (being the one of the Founder’s decedent and all) and eventually in
the future, the Wizarding population would find out about his genius in
inventing. Voldemort will try to recruit him.
What better way than to avoid being branded but to be in the very eye of the
storm? Voldemort wouldn’t brand his surrogate father… will he? Something akin
to doubt crawled into his mind but he firmly pushed it away.
If everything goes as planned, Tom Riddle would at least be thankful that Harry
had taken him out of Wool’s Orphanage and leave Harry alone. There would of
course be a lot of… complications, but Harry was not one to back away. He will
not have his lazy, carefree life disrupted just because the Light and Dark
Lords wanted to have a catfight –not over the same love interest, but to
dictate over Britain.
Harry was forced out of his reverie when the boy in front of him cleared his
throat. He blinked his half-lidded eyes owlish and tilted his head to the side.
“Yes?”
“Who’re you?” The boy’s dark eyes roamed his figure, stopping short on his
white lab coat before looking back into his emerald ones. “Are you a… Doctor?”
“Hmm… Well that’s one way of putting it.” Surgeons cut open their patients, so
his occupation was close to that of a Doctor's… right? Harry rubbed his forever
stubble free chin in thought (his mother’s genes were that strong). “Hadrian
Gryffindor, pleasure to meet you Tom.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Likewise, Mr. Gryffindor.”
“Just Harry is fine.” He waved lethargically and sighed. This would take a
while to explain and he sincerely hoped Tom won’t make it too difficult for
him. How troublesome.
“Do you know of Hogwarts, Mr. Gryffindor?”
Harry tilted his head. How did a young Tom Riddle know about Hogwarts? Unless
this is an alternate universe or…
“Harry please. This is probably off topic, but are you eleven yet, Tom?”
“I turned eleven today sir.”
“Were you told about Magic by Professor Dumbledore?”
“Yes sir.”
“Thank Merlin I don’t have to explain.” Harry mumbled to himself and grinned
lazily. “To put it simply, I’m here to adopt you.”
“Why? Why would you want me out of the other orphans?” Ah, Tom always wanted a
confirmation that he was special… Different from other children.
“Tell me.” Harry shifted, slouching more into his seat. “You can do things,
can’t you Tom? Things others would only dream of doing.”
Tom looked as if debating if he wanted to answer truthfully or not. Finally,
with an unrecognizable light in those dark eyes, he gave an innocent smile. It
was more terrifying than reassuring for Harry – he could live without seeing
that smile, thank you very much.  
“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I
want without training them. I can make things happen to people who’re mean to
me – I can make them hurt, if I want.” Tom’s smile turned dangerous when he
spoke the last part. Harry hid a shudder. Were little children this scary or
was Tom an exception?
“That’s all the reason I need to adopt you.” Harry drawled as he slouched
against his seat. The chair was uncomfortable and he very much preferred his
beanbag chair/bed. “We’re similar, you and I.”
“Similar?”
Harry nodded and mumbled under his breath. “I find this chair too hard for my
liking.”
With that, he wandless and non-verbally changed the leather armchair into his
favorite emerald green beanbag chair. He sighed in content and gave the boy a
lazy smile. Tom’s eyes narrowed as he looked between the newly transfigured
chair and the person sitting on it. Without warning, the child stood up and
decided to start poking his seat.
Harry gave Tom all the time he needed and closed his eyes. Maybe Tom would let
him have a few short moment of shut eye. Much too soon, he was shaken awake by
a frowning dark haired boy.
“Five minutes…” He rolled over and promptly fell out of his temporary bed. With
an unsatisfied groan, he crawled back onto his chair and focused onto the
child, still blurry eyed. Tom looked anything but impressed at his petulant
behavior. “Fine I’m up. Do you have any questions, Tom?”
“How old are you? You look no older than sixteen, maybe seventeen.” He looked
at Harry expectantly.
“I’m 32. I just have good genes.”
“Hard to believe with not only your behavior, but your attitude as well.” He
whispered under his breath, and Harry heard it but choose to ignore it in favor
of rubbing his eyes childishly. Tom suddenly scoffed in disbelief. “So you’ll
just adopt any magical child you come across?”
“Well… No. Not really. You’re special… in a way. If you agree to be my… adopted
son…” Harry never really had family apart from Padfoot, so he didn’t know how
to take care of anybody, especially children. “It will be beneficial for you to
learn about the Magical Community before you enter Hogwarts.”
Tom looked on contemplatively as he balanced the pros and cons.
“Alright. When will we leave?”
“After I sign the papers. Go get packed. Call Mrs. Cole in on your way out will
you?” Harry said as he stood up, his beanbag chair returning into that
uncomfortable armchair the second his butt left the seat.
Tom just nodded and left.
The Matron walked in soon after. She tried to get him to adopt another child,
anyone but Tom, but Harry promptly ignored her and signed all the necessary
documents. With everything done, he collected all of Tom’s important
certificates and documents before heading up to room 27.
“Tom?” The child turned towards the door, in his hands was a metal box. “Do you
need help?” He asked reluctantly –it was polite after all.
“I’m almost done.”
Harry leaned on the doorframe as he watched the boy pack, his eyes scrutinizing
his newly adopted son. Tom was far too skinny for his liking and as loathe as
Harry would admit it, he felt momentarily bad for the young Dark Lord. Wool’s
Orphanage was having a money crisis at the moment apparently.
He would have to take Tom shopping for new clothes and school supplies… That
would be tiresome. How he detests crowds. Finally after a few more minutes, Tom
nodded towards him. With Tom’s permission, he shrank the boy’s satchel and kept
it in one of his many inner pockets his coat provided.
They both made their way outside the building with many children whispering
behind their backs. Harry’s eyebrows twitched as he heard a comment on how he
would be selling Tom’s organs to the market for some drugs – his pale skin does
not make him look like a junkie dammit!
Once they were far enough, Harry ushered Tom towards an empty alleyway near
them, with his hand in between the boy’s shoulder blades. Tom tensed when he
was touched, but Harry didn’t really care. Tom would warm up to him soon…
Maybe.  
“We’re using a Wizarding form of transportation called Apparation. It’s like
teleportation – do you know what that is? Ok good– You would only feel a slight
discomfort in your stomach.” Harry held his hand out. Tom hesitated for a
second before placing his much smaller hand onto Harry’s palm.
Harry slowly pulled Tom close and wrapped his free arm around the boy’s slim
waist. In a second, they both disappeared from sight with nothing but silence.
===============================================================================
Rainbows and Galleons,
GenderlessPerson
***** Chapter 3 *****
Location: Leaky Cauldron
The people at Leaky Cauldron’s Apparating area jumped at the sudden entrance of
Harry, whom had silently appeared together with a paler than before faced Tom.
He chided himself internally at forgetting the fact that average Magicals had a
difficult time containing the cracking noise when they Apparate. In fact,
Voldemort was the only one apart from him to achieve that –Dumbledore preferred
grabbing his burning turkey’s tail feathers to apparating.  
“Alright there Tom? You’re not going to throw up are you?” Harry hoped not.
Just in case though, he took a few cautious steps back.
Luckily for him, Tom slowly shook his head and took a few deep breaths to
gather himself. With that, Harry trailed towards the entrance and opened it,
his adopted son right beside him. Tom couldn’t contain a gasp of awe, but he
was quick to compose himself –Harry was indeed impressed at how in control of
his body Tom was. Diagon Alley was as crowded as usual, more so in this period
of peace. That’ll all change soon enough.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley, Tom.” His lips twitched into a half-smile and held
out his hand to the boy. “May I have this privilege of holding your hand?” He
was given a distracted nod and Harry hummed softly. He would need to install
something called Constant Vigilance into Tom’s mind – wouldn’t want the young
Dark Lord to get kidnapped because of his good looks. Pedophiles were
everywhere.
Tom almost jumped when his hand was held, but accepted it reluctantly
nonetheless. Lest they be separated in the crowd. Harry walked slowly, so
slowly that he could see Tom’s irritation building, and the only reason why
Harry took notice was because of Tom’s eyes –they were the windows to one’s
soul. The boy’s facial control was simply amazing, more so than those scums
that call themselves Pureblood children –they usually get used to schooling
their features at the minimum age of fifteen.
Mini-mort and Voldemort were different. Like how Tom’s emotion could still be
seen through his eyes, whilst Voldemort’s were unreadable (actually, his
crimson eyes would go from blank to bloodlust when Harry’s in range). Slytherin
would do good for Tom, they would force him into improving, and destroy those
things people called limits. Harry always wondered why Magicals thought there
were limits concerning Magic (maybe because they grew up in the environment or
they were just not that creative as him). Magic is just that, Magic –they have
no limits. One of the oh so many reasons as to why Voldemort became the most
powerful and frightening Dark Lord in history.
Much later than average, they arrived at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All
Occasions. The shop was empty of people except for an elderly woman behind a
counter. She welcomed them with a smile.
“Good day boys. Did you both outgrow your uniform?”
Harry’s composure faltered for a second –he hated how people would mistaken him
for a school boy. He knew that he looked no older than a seventh year (could
even pass for a sixth year actually, but he would deny that with acid) and only
reached a total of 5’6 in height. He followed his mother’s frame of being lithe
and… not quite as tall, but the real reason why he was unable to grow to his
full capacity was all thanks to his loving relatives. Malnourishment does that
to people.
Tom on the other hand, was taller (by only a bit) than your average eleven year
old and would continue to grow into Voldemort’s towering height of 6’4 (he
always felt like a rabbit when standing in front of Voldy, a terrifying
experience he always tried to avoid) once he’s older. Probably got that from
his Muggle father –Voldemort should thank Tom Riddle Sr’s genes for being so
dominant in the looks and height category. He shuddered at the thought of
Voldemort looking like those Gaunts –but on the other hand, Voldemort did
inherit the Gaunts’ insanity (worse than the Blacks actually).
“Hello ma’am. My son is in need of a full wardrobe. Tom prefers darker colors…
don’t you Tom?” He questioned the boy beside him.
“Yes… sir.”
“Harry, please. I don’t mind not being called Father," he shuddered at the
thought. "but none of that sir stuff.” Harry grimaced and gestured for his
adopted son to stand on the stool.
“Father? You look quite young to be one... Please list everything, including
fabrics and colors sir.” The elderly woman questioned with an almost
disapproving look on her wrinkled features. Did she think he would impregnate a
woman and left her or something? He wasn’t that irresponsible, and he preferred
looking from afar –touching was strictly off limits.
“Perhaps.” He shrugged carelessly as he watched Tom stand gracefully on the
stool –the boy’s eyes focusing entirely on him from the mirror’s reflection.
“Seven everyday robes in Acromantula silk, three in black, two in dark green,
and two in dark blue. Pajamas in silk, and boxers in cotton, seven each in dark
colors… except grey.” He added in as an afterthought. Wool’s Orphanage had grey
uniforms, and as much as the color suits Tom, he would think that the boy was
sick of said color.
“Ten pairs of all occasions black pants, fourteen shirts, six in white, two in
black, three in dark green, and three in dark blue –all in the highest quality
material you have. A thick winter robe in black, and a normal black cloak with
a hood attached that could shadow most of the face. A set of winter gloves, and
also a pair of silk gloves.”
Should he buy Tom’s Hogwarts’ uniform or wait until August…? Tom’s a growing
boy… But he didn’t wish to be in Diagon Alley when it’s filled with students
shopping for their school supplies. He continued after a few seconds of
silence.
“Hogwarts’ standard uniform –also in Acromantula silk, but be sure to make it a
little bigger. Two pairs of shoes, and also… Do you have basiliskhide boots?”
Madam Malkin blinked owlish before shaking her head. “The last Basilisk found
was a few centuries ago I’m afraid –they’re too deadly too hatch, but we do
have dragonhide.”
Harry didn’t even bother to contain his snort. There was a thousand year old
Basilisk underneath Hogwarts and Harry could sneak in some later time –he could
ask for some of its scales and venom. Or maybe he could ask Tom to do so....
Nevermind. It would be troublesome if the school closed because Tom accidently
used the Basilisk to kill some students there.
“That will do, Madam.”
He leaned against the wall sluggishly, staring at his son who was containing a
(cute) scowl at being prodded by the woman. He was amused and turned to the
door when it opened to reveal a father and son duo of blonde. Harry blinked and
promptly turned away. Hopefully he would be disregarded as a Mudblood –with his
Muggle attire consisting of a normal dark green polo shirt, black sweat pants
(that was tailored to look like trousers, it was softer than those stiff formal
ones and he could wear this version in Pureblood gatherings without them
knowing that there was something amiss about his pants) and a white knee length
unbuttoned lab coat. 
Madam Malkin greeted the two purebloods with familiarity. Malfoy Sr waited
stiffly beside him whilst Malfoy Jr stood with his head held high on the stool.
He looked ridiculous in Harry’s opinion –and Tom seemed to share his thoughts
by the look in his eyes.
“Your brother?” Malfoy’s tone was polite, but Harry could detect the scorn in
it. Pureblood scums. Why they even bother to make polite talk was beyond him
–social niceties was something a Hermit doesn’t require or understand. Tom
would look lovely in any clothes, but unfortunately, he was currently wearing
orphanage rags –those were not considered clothes even by Harry’s standard
(which was saying something since he would often forgo changing shirts, a slob
if you will).
“No.” Ignore him, ignore him. Give standard one word answers and he’ll leave
you alone.
Malfoy raised a brow at him. Those grey eyes scrutinized his (Muggle) attire,
(slouched) posture, (sleepy and bored) facial expression and fingers for any
signs of rings. Too bad his hands were in his coat pockets.
“A… Muggleborn?”
“Half-blood.” Malfoy smiled politely at Harry before turning to look at Malfoy
Jr. That’s right blondie, turn away from his magnificence!
With Tom done, he gave Madam Malkin their home address to owl their order
before dragging Tom out the door. He didn’t wish to stay near the blonde any
longer. He was getting uncomfortable with the blonde’s constant subtle gazing
–and he wished the shop was filled with shadows so that he could blend into the
background easily. 
“Sir? Who was that man?” Young Tom questioned as they walked.
“Mm… Call me Harry. That’s Lord Darius Malfoy. I’ll give you a book containing
the Sacred Twenty-Eight afterwards.” With that, Harry pulled Tom inside of
Ollivanders.
The sound of a small bell rang throughout the shop as they entered. The place
was dusty and messy as usual, with boxes littered everywhere and anywhere. He
turned towards the man on one of the ladder and waited as the old man climbed
down. Tom was glancing around with a mask of polite interest.
“Welcome! Hmm… I have never seen you before… A Potter? No… A Black? You look
far too much like a Black with Potter hair and Slytherin eyes.” Ollivander
mumbled to himself as he stared at Harry with those creepy tennis ball eyes of
his. Even after years of getting to know Garrick Ollivander, Harry had not
gotten used to the constant staring the elder man would do when near him.
Ollivander was a thin old man, with white hair reaching his shoulders. Those
silver tennis ball eyes were wide open as he stared at the pair. Harry counted
in his mind, slightly perturbed that even after a few minutes had passed, the
man refused to do the common thing humans usually do, blink their bloody eyes.
Seeing that Tom was feeling just as uncomfortable as him (even if it was
clearly hidden), he cleared his throat to gain the wandmaker’s attention.
“Tom and I are here for our wands, Mr. Ollivander. Not to discuss my ancestry.”
He drawled.
“Naturally.” The old man nodded. “Which one of you will go first, Mr…?”
“Gryffindor and Riddle. Tom will.”
Ollivander’s eyes went a little more wider, if that’s even possible, at the
mention of his last name.
“I must say… I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Gryffindor.” His lips
twitched into a smile. Harry knew that the old man would never tell a soul
–client confidentiality and all that. Ollivander hummed as he scanned the boxes
nearest to him before pulling out a random (in Harry’s opinion) box. “Your wand
arm, Mr. Riddle?”
“I’m ambidextrous, but I prefer my left.” Tom said, his left arm lifted
slightly.
“Wonderful wonderful! Usually I would give you two wands, but alas, the
Ministry made it a rule of ‘one wand one wizard’.” Ollivander said sadly, but
smiled enthusiastically after a second. “I’ll be taking some measurements
then…” The wandmaker trailed off as four sets of tape measures started
measuring everywhere. Harry hid his amusement at Tom’s bemused expression when
it measured between his eyes.
Ollivander looked at over a sheet of parchment containing the measurements,
before he placed a wand onto the counter and gestured for Tom to pick it up
after swatting the tape measurers away. His adoptive child barely grasped the
wand before it shot out flames of epic magnitudes. Harry was quick to snatch
Tom’s hand away and sniggered when Ollivander frantically patted his own
clothing.
When the flames were finally diminished –the old man finally remembered that he
was indeed a Wizard– he reached for another box. This time, Tom cautiously took
it and gave it a testing flick, only for the ladder to fly through the air and
impaled itself into one of the many windows.
Harry chuckled when he heard a few passersby shrieked in surprise.
“Dragon heartstring seems disagreeable…” Was muttered as Ollivander flicked his
wand and everything was back to normal, before he took another box. Another
flick from Tom and the chandelier came crashing down just missing them by a few
hairbreadths away.
“Apparently not this length… Perhaps this one.”
All the glass lanterns shattered into millions of pieces, a few grazing his
person. Harry touched his cheek and brought his blood stained fingers in front
of him. It has been quite some time since he was injured by another party.
Absentmindedly, he licked it and gave a lazy smile when Tom looked at him in
disgust –not at all sorry for hurting another person (his adopted father at
that).
“No... no, definitely not. Are you alright, Mr. Gryffindor?”
“I’m more than alright, Mr. Ollivander.” He purred and healed the scratches
with an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders.
Harry decided that this would take far too long and conjured an emerald green
beanbag chair, deciding to take a small nap. He didn’t know how long this
continued for, but when he was woken up by a distinct feeling of a yew wand, he
groggily stood up to stretch.
“Shall we try this then, Mr. Riddle?” A familiar white wand was handed towards
Tom, who didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
Just as Tom held the yew wood, his eyes widened as he gasped. The wand shook
and a green mist wrapped itself around Tom, almost like a snake, before
disappearing entirely.  
“That, dear child, is a powerful wand. 13½’’, Yew, Phoenix feather core. We can
expect great things from you, child, great things indeed.”
Tom could only stare at his bone white wand with awe as Ollivander turned to
him. Harry gave a lazy wave.
“Perhaps…” The man was quick to snatch a box and placed it atop his counter.
Harry opened the slender box, revealing a dark brown wand with an almost grey
handle. It was beautiful and he could sense the wand calling to him.
He picked his wand up with much care. He closed his eyes, taking pleasure at
the feeling of heat rushing through his veins, the wand pulsing pleasantly
alongside his heartbeat. With a small sigh of satisfaction, he opened his half-
lidded eyes and flicked the wand casually.
Dark crimson waves of magic could be seen leaving the tip of the wand, snaking
around his body very much alike Tom’s had. He looked up at Ollivander, who was
smiling happily in joy.
“Curious.” The elder of the three began, his gaze flicking from the pure white
wand in Tom’s hand, and to his beautiful dark brown one. “The wand you’re
holding, Mr. Gryffindor, is a very unusual combination of Holly and Phoenix
feather, 11’’. What makes it even more unusual is that the Phoenix that
produced the feather for your wand gave only one other feather.”
Ollivander turned towards Tom. Mini-mort looked at the wandmaker curiously.
“That feather resides in the wand of young Mr. Riddle here.”
“What does that mean, sir?” He asked politely, whilst Harry hummed quietly to
himself.
“It means, child, that both yours and Mr. Gryffindor’s wand are brothers. It is
rare indeed, Mr. Riddle, to have your core be so compatible with Mr.
Gryffindor’s.”
The youngest of the three looked at Harry with suspicion in those dark orbs,
and Harry inward groaned. He sincerely hopped that Tom would not think that
Harry was his uncle… or biological father. Even family members don’t have
similar cores like theirs, but Tom wouldn’t know that.
“You will both do great things, Mr. Riddle, Mr. Gryffindor. A total of fourteen
galleons.”
“Do you sell wand holsters and wand kits here, Mr. Ollivander?”
“Certainly! Forearm?”
“Yes. One each for Tom and I.”
Ollivander explained to the both of them (he tuned it out whilst Tom listened)
about how to maintain their wands and holsters, whilst giving them a
demonstration just in case.
Harry reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the required amount of
galleon after the wandmaker finished. It seemed that wand prices had not
changed even after decades. He handed the gold to Ollivander and strolled out
with Tom behind his heels.
“Where to now, sir?” Tom asked as he avoided the crowd as much as possible.
“Harry.” He reminded absentmindedly. “Gringotts, the Wizarding bank. We need to
activate your vault and get you a key.”
They stopped just outside a white building that was bigger than any other in
Diagon. Harry turned towards his adopted son. “Be respectful to Goblins.
They’re… vicious if you get on their bad side.”
They walked up towards one of the counters, and much to Harry’s delight, were
escorted to the front by one Goblin he recognized from his daily visits to the
bank. Being Lord Gryffindor has its privileges –he didn’t have to queue and
waste his much needed time. The Founders had helped the Goblin build their bank
back then, and their heirs were treated almost as royalties. The other Magicals
looked at him with scorn but he paid no heed to them.
“May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers, Gripclaw.”
“May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers, Lord Gryffindor.” His title
was said softly. It wouldn’t do good for Wizards to hear his name.
“I would like to activate Vault 1373.”
“Very well.” The Goblin’s eyes turned towards Tom. “Is he the one?” Was sneered
out.
“Yeah.” Harry handed a needle to Tom as the clerk took out a small bowl. “Drop
only ten inside, Tom. I’ll tell you the reason why after we reach home.” He
hissed out softly, and much to his amusement, Tom turned his head quickly after
hearing Parseltongue from Harry’s lips.
The suspicion in his eyes was doubled but he did as told; only dropping ten in
the bowl. Harry healed Tom’s finger and banished the needle to who knows where.
The bowl glowed for a second before the blood gathered and began forming into a
small dark red key. Whilst the key was slowly being formed, he explained to his
son that this would only allow him to be able to access his vault, and not even
Harry could.
After a few questions were asked and answered, they waited until the key was
hardened and recorded. They were then escorted by Griphook, who sneered when he
saw Harry, though not unkindly.
Harry dragged his feet towards the waiting Goblin almost reluctantly. He hated
the damn rollercoaster cart ride. They should at least get some seatbelts for
safety.  
“Hadrian… As much as it amuses us Goblins at how lazy you could be, I would
appreciate it if you would stop stalling.” Griphook snarled, though there was
hidden amusement and no malice. After his first visit to Gringotts in the Past,
he came by every other day to discuss business with his Account Managers, so
the Goblins were pretty much used to his slothful ways.
“I’m not lazy…” He drawled, ignoring Griphooks disbelieving scoff. “Just
constantly exhausted.”
During the damn rollercoaster ride, Tom had held onto his arm with a death
grip, and he could only sigh in relief after they had hopped out of the cart.
He drawled out to Tom about Wizarding currency, the amount he has inside his
vault, and all the other things he deemed important enough to mention.
He got Tom a pouch that was connected to his vault and they rode back. He waved
to Griphook and they continued towards the Leaky Cauldron for some grub. The
place was more crowded than before, much to both of their annoyance.
“Hello there.” He greeted the young man behind the counter. “Are there any
secluded booths in the back?”
“Of course!” The man nodded enthusiastically, smiling at the both of them
toothlessly. “I’ll lead you there.”
The two followed behind until they reached their destination.
“What can I get for the two of you?” Was said.
“Steak and kidney pie for me, along with butterbeer.” Harry said as he rested
his cheek on his palm.
“Some sandwiches and tea please.” Tom said stiffly. Harry wondered if Tom’s
stomach was too small for more heavy food –he looked too thin.
“Alright, be back in a jiffy.”
The man arrived shortly after, two trays levitating behind him. He settled the
trays in front of them, which Tom and Harry both thanked him as they started
eating. Harry munched on his pie as he observed the boy seated directly in
front of him.
He could clearly see how starved the boy was, but Tom would never stuff his
face like Ron. All his movements were filled with elegance as his son took a
bite of the sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and repeat –almost mechanically.
They were silent the whole meal, not that Harry cared. It was too troublesome
to hold a decent conversation. He idly wondered if this adoption would really
work out well… And perhaps he should just kill the boy and be done with it.
He really didn’t want to get involved in the war between Voldemort and
Dumbledore, but as much as he tried to convince himself that killing Tom Riddle
was the best solution, he just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Tom, and
technically, he hasn’t killed anyone yet. Sure he has traumatized those Muggle
orphan children, but they deserved it.
No matter how apathic Harry seemed, he despised bullies. His own childhood of
him being beaten and manipulated was something he wasn’t proud of, and
sometimes he wished he was stronger –like Voldemort was. He was weak to allow
those people who were lesser than him to beat him, to humiliate him, unlike Tom
Riddle, who stood up and fought back. Dumbledore would say that it was the
opposite, Tom being the weak one to succumb to the temptation of hurting them
back, to get revenge, and he was the strong one to resist.
…Dumbledore doesn’t know shite about what he’s talking about.
Voldemort was strong. Harry Potter was weak. That was why he ran. 
===============================================================================
Rainbows and Grudges,
GenderlessPerson
***** Chapter 4 *****
31 st  December 1937
Location: Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts
After they had filled their stomachs, Harry brought Tom to Flourish and Blotts
to shop for Tom's school supplies. For a self-proclaim genius, he had made an
elementary mistake of introducing a bookworm to a bookstore. He really
should've ordered everything via owl.
He had begun to think that time traveling had the side effect of decreasing his
much-beloved brain cells.
Just as they entered the store, he was rudely (in his opinion) waved off by his
charge with a– 'You're my… father now, are you not? Parents are supposed to
shop for their children, and only when the child is old enough do they stop.
Get the books on this list for me, please?' –after being given a list of school
books Tom was required to have for Hogwarts.
Firstly, Harry had no idea about parenting or being a guardian. He had always
been an independent child that did everything by himself – even going as far as
to shop for his guardians (not by choice, mind you). So when the eleven-year-
old told him that parents usually shop for their children, he just shrugged and
went along with it. Tom should know, right?
...
..
.
…Of course not. They were both orphans for Merlin's sake!
He bitterly regretted his go-with-the-flow attitude so very much right now as
he dragged his feet around the store, throwing book after book into the
shopping basket without much care if they were being damaged in the process.
For Tom, he was taking full advantage of his free time to read every text he
got his thieving paws on.
Harry jutted his bottom lip out, pouting as he turned towards where he last saw
his young charge at. The boy was leaning on one of the many bookshelves as he
read through the tome with utter relaxation. Harry glared moodily at Mini-mort.
He didn't want to be a father anymore. Wasn't there an exit button he could
press or something?
Maybe he'll re-create his time turner… No, it'll take too long and even if he
managed, Tom will still be his son. He was stuck with the boy for seven or more
years!
As he was busy bemoaning his misfortune inwardly, he slouched further, feeling
his much-needed energy levels depleting at a rapid rate. He needed sleep to
reenergize himself… or maybe a Pureblood to dissect – for relaxation purposes
of course. He never did anything without a reason.
He scanned the basket once more to confirm that he had everything in the list
and sauntered towards the counter. He placed the shopping basket on top of said
counter whilst deciding that he didn't want a repeat when buying other
necessities for Tom's schooling. He paid the cashier and shrunk his load,
before moving towards Mini-mort.
"Tom." He sluggishly poked the boy's shoulder. Tom twitched. He turned to Harry
with a polite smile. "We're going home."
Mini-mort snapped the tome shut and nodded slightly, looking far too displeased
in Harry's eyes. He turned around to walk towards the exit, not even caring
that he had left his back wide open for attacks –what could such a young child
with no Magical experience do to him anyway?
                                     OOOO
"Here we are." Harry pointed to the house (manor actually) he was currently
staying at with his chin, hands still resting comfortably inside his pockets.
They were currently in front of his home's iron gates –that looked too gothic
in his opinion.
His house wasn't as ginormous as the Malfoy's, not that he could not afford it,
but rather he felt it was too big for two people. Really. That was all.
…
…
… Fine. Big houses meant more walking, and he didn't like that. If he were to
buy a Manor the same size as those peacock obsessed blondies, it would take
exactly eight minutes and forty-seven seconds to walk from the entrance hall to
the ballroom. Wasn't that just torturous!?
He had to walk eight, almost nine minutes when he attended the yearly
'Pureblood' gatherings (or a meeting where they showed their wealth) that those
pompous greedy politicians go to. Every time the Malfoys volunteered to use
their Manor, Harry would always feel dread. He had no wish to stay for more
than ten minutes (ignoring that he walked nine minutes) at the bloody
gatherings.
… He digressed.
The house was colored exactly as the goblins had described it to be –oddly
colored due to the previous owner's eccentric personality. Splotches of colors
were mixed together in a random pattern, almost as if someone took a huge
bucket and threw it around without thought.
Hadrian just left it as that. It was unique in its own way. The yard, or
garden, was full of dead greenery. It was something similar to where Muggles
would envision their imaginative Vampires to stay at. All the flowers were
withered, leaves were nonexistent on the blackened trees, and statues had their
heads or limbs missing. Harry dubbed it as the 'Garden of Missing Body Parts'
and ignored its entire existence –it wasn't as if anybody would be taking a
walk there anytime soon.
The mansion was located at the border between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, however,
it was hidden by the giant trees that were surrounding the area. It was two
stories high if one would not include the dungeons below (which was off-limits
to Tom), with an unknown amount of bedchambers – he didn't bother exploring
after choosing his own.
The west wing held rooms with specific purposes, like the library, whilst the
bedchambers were at the opposite side. His two house-elves, Bibby and Bloopy,
had cleaned the whole building so Harry wasn't all too worried about there
being any dangerous cursed artifacts lying around unattended, and he had
already checked all the books in the library – which contained all three types
of Magic; Light, Neutral, and Dark.
He, of course, took precaution to ward the shelves that the dangerous tomes
were located at, and until it deemed Tom ready, it would not allow his adoptive
son to read them. He wasn't biased to Dark Magic, knowing that he could use
Light Magic to torture or/and kill someone just as brutally.
Harry focused on Tom's expression, which was one of concealed awe and
ambivalent, from the corner of his eyes and started to walk towards his
circular double doors – which was rainbow in color by the way. Harry idly
wondered if this mansion used to be owned by Albus Withtoomanymiddlenames
Dumbledore before discarding that thought immediately. It would be unpleasant
if it were.
Tom was at his heels and as they reached the porch, the doors opened
automatically with a slight creak. His two elves (which were twins by the way)
were bowed with their noses grazing the floor. Their way of showing respect, he
reckons. 
"Welcome back Master Hadrian sir. Will Master Hadrian sir and guest bes wanting
lunch?" The two asked in unison.
"No." He handed all of Tom's things to the left elf. The two looked identical
so he couldn't really tell them apart. "This is Tom Riddle, or Tom Gryffindor
in private, my recently adopted son. Take those to the bedchamber I had you
both prepared."
"Yes, Master Hadrian sir." They popped away after another low bow.
Harry turned to Tom as he pulled his mid-back length hair into a (messy) top
knot, with strands falling unevenly around his face. Tom's expression was full
of curiosity.
"…What were those things?"
"They're creatures called House-elf. Bibby and Bloopy are their names though
it's hard to tell which is which." Harry hummed in thought before he continued.
"They serve the Wizards and Witches they're bonded with, however, they do not
see it as slavery, but something they enjoy. They were once of a Noble race of
Elves, but because of their ancestor's treachery, they were cursed to be what
you've just witnessed."
The Elves were an ethereal race once upon a time… With blonde silky hair and
aristocratic features that could put many Purebloods to shame – the Malfoys
included.
"Who cursed them? And what did they do… sir?"
"Call me Harry." He corrected absent-mindedly and sighed tiredly at the thought
of more talking. "Their Elders. These houseelves were once bloodthirsty and
very dangerous creatures. Their descendants, however, are humble and preferred
the life of peace… some anyway." He thought about Kreacher and snorted. That
elf was as bloodthirsty as his Masters.
"The group rebelled against the majority of their kind. The Elves were a very
peaceful race, but even creatures of the Light can be corrupted. They became
more and more violent, and one day, they disobeyed the Elders and massacred a
village full of our kind.
"As an act of compensation, the Elders cursed those rebellions and gave them to
the Wizards and Witches that had their relatives killed. They soon became known
as houseelves to degrade them of their pride, Elves are very prideful
creatures, and only could they survive if they were bonded – thus began their
life of slavery began.
"Remember Tom," Harry's eyes narrowed as he turned serious. "Light is not
equivalent to good, and Dark is not equivalent to evil. Be wary of everyone
that holds power, because if they are strong, they are dangerous – no matter
what their Magic affiliation is. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
Albus Dumbledore was the prime example. He holds a tremendous amount of Light
Magic, but the power got into his head and he turned into a manipulative
dictator that was even frightening than Voldemort. To Harry only, though. 
Voldy was honest in his world domination plan at least. He never once lied to
Harry. Albus however, lied time and time, again and again, until Harry had lost
faith in trusting humans – with Voldemort being the only exception. What could
be said about Harry's moral and mentality if he trusted a psychopathic
megalomania of all people?
Harry forcefully shrugged off the memories, his face returning to its bored and
tired state once more. He blinked his half-lidded eyes and smiled at Tom.
"Welcome to Odd Manor." The name wasn't his choosing by the way. It was the
previous owner's.
Tom gave him a blank stare and Harry just shrugged. Tom would get used to his
behaviors and the likes after a week of staying in the same home as him
–especially the way he would start explaining something half way before feeling
that it was too troublesome and changed the topic.
"I would give you a full tour, but I myself have not explored this place." He
didn't bother to say 'yet', knowing that he would rather be cooped inside his
lab than explore empty chambers.
Harry moved towards the dining area with Tom just a step behind him.
"Dining area." He gestured at the long mahogany dining table with nine seats in
total, seven at each side. "You may eat whenever you like."
"Will we not be having our meals together, sir?"
"Harry please." He was getting tired of repeating that. Why was Tom so
troublesome? "I eat in my study." Lab actually… and only when his houseelves
threatened to spoon feed him. Even this Manor's houseelves were odd –
apparently they were free and came with the house he bought. He sometimes
regretted bonding with them.
"Families often than not have their meals together." Tom stated matter of
factly, the smile on his face bright like a cheerful child. "Aren't we one?"
Harry inward grimaced at how real the smile looked. How he wished Tom Riddle
wasn't such a pulchritudinous boy.
"Indeed, we are… And since we are just that, will you start calling me Harry?"
Harry turned around and started to walk towards the living area, near the
entrance hall (and staircase).
"Harry then." Tom agreed, though there was reluctantly hidden in his way too
cheerful voice. "But back to having meals together…"
… And here he thought the change of subject wasn't too obvious.
"Before I forget," Harry was quick to interrupt and smiled innocently at his
charge, who looked annoyed at the interruption. "always use this before you eat
or drink anything that was given to you, even if it were from the two
houseleves."
He handed a potion bottle pendant that was linked to a chain via the cork, with
a silver snake coiling around said bottle. It was filled with transparent
liquid – this concoction was labeled as P7 by him. Tom only stared at the mini
potion bottle in his palm before looking at Harry suspiciously. Did that boy
think Harry would poison him?
Really… Why would he waste his precious time to brew an undetectable poison if
he could just throw the Killing Curse (this took the least effort) at Tom?
"What is this?"
"It's a potion."
"Potion?" Now Tom was looking at him dubiously.
"Ah, I keep forgetting that you're Muggle-raised…" He murmured to himself
before speaking up. "A liquid with healing, magical, or poisonous properties."
A straight textbook answer. Snape would be proud.
"… poisonous?" Maybe he should've left the last one out.
"That potion in your hand is not poisonous. It actually detects poison… So be
sure to put a drop in any liquid or solid you were given for consumption
purposes." He drawled, looking far too bored. "Even if it were someone you
trust, one can never be too careful. Though I would advise that you do so
without them noticing – it may break what little bond that person has with
you."
He thought back to Dobby and grimaced. The elf had wailed and sobbed for three
days straight before Harry had given up and made a bullshit of a story about
him having a prank war against the twins and was afraid that they had swapped
Dobby's food with a poisonous one. Luckily the elf was gullible or he would've
had to endure the house elf's constant crying for ages.
"This is the living area, and visitors would normally floo here if they were
granted access."
"Floo?"
"It's a mode of transport in the Wizarding world, from one place to another by
means of Floo Powder and a fireplace. I would give you a live demonstration,
but we can wait until you need to go to Hogwarts."
Harry swore he saw Tom's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He hid a grin and
headed towards the staircase. He ignored the animated scenery painting of the
ocean and walked to the west wing, intending to show Tom the library – which
would undoubtedly be the boy's constant place of visit.
"Harry." Tom called out. "Is it normal for the paintings to be moving?"
"It is."
Tom waited for Harry to elaborate, but after another minute of walking in
silence, he gritted his teeth in frustration.
"May I ask why?"
He looked over his shoulder at the boy and stopped in just in front of the
library's door.
"You may. A very complicated series of animation charms was placed upon the
paintings. It can be cast on pictures and portraits as well. It also can be
considered wholly another branch of magic in itself though many would disagree
with you and just say to use a simple animation charm."
He pushed the door open and entered. The library was bigger inside thanks to
the expansion charm the previous owner placed.
"As you can see, this is the library. You are welcome to read any." And he
meant it.
Tom made a move to enter, but Harry closed the door and continued the tour.
Only after he was ahead, did he hear the sound of feet tapping against the
marble floor following after him. It seemed like there was another thing to
teach his son after all – how to walk stealthily and silently. He couldn't
really leave the future most dangerous Dark Lord walking around like an
elephant even as a child.
After another few minutes of walking from the west wing to the east wing, Harry
pointed to his study and bedchamber.
"This is my study. It's attached to my bedchamber so if there is anything, feel
free to enter. Yours, however, is over there." He waved to the chamber beside
his study.
"Is that all, Harry?"
"Hmm… Yeah, that would be all."
"Alright. May I be excused?"
"The library?"
"Yes, si– Harry."
"Go on then. If you need anything, clap once and call for either house elf."
Harry turned around and headed towards the direction of the staircase,
intending to work on his unfinished projects… and to track down a certain
someone just to be sure.
Deep in his thoughts, he didn't notice how Tom's smile had faded away and only
an icy glare remained, boring holes into Harry's oblivious back.
===============================================================================
Rainbows and Bookworms,
GenderlessPerson
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
07 January 1938
Location: Scotland, Odd Manor
The dimly lit room was filthy. Empty cracked bottles and various objects
scattered the tiled floors whilst decomposing guts splattered the walls. Harry
was beyond frustrated as he rummaged through the drawers, cabinets and shelves
to no avail.
Regardless of where he looked, he was unable to find his main ingredient,
Bleeding Tooth Fungus, in any of his seal-runes or his storage rooms. It was
important that he have that bloody fungus for his P15. Without it, the potion
would not be strong enough to bring the desired effect of his experiment!
Why the bloody hell did his main ingredient have to have been discovered in
2008? It was preposterous!
Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair, causing all the minute excess
innards and unknown substances he had unintentionally collected underneath his
fingernails and upon his palms to transfer onto his forehead and hair, the red
chunks of his experiments intestines a stark contrast to the deep black of his
hair. With no other option left, he strode out of the room and slammed the door
shut behind him – uncaring when a lot of glass bottles shattered behind him
from the impact.
He exited a cupboard – identical to his childhood bedroom – which was linked to
his underground dungeons and made his way towards the private dining area. He
didn't know why he preferred a cupboard under the stairs as his storage room,
but he blamed it on his relatives. There were a lot of things he blamed his
relatives for, actually.
Having placed a Fidelius charm on it and acting as his own secret-keeper, only
he was aware that this Manor even had a cupboard underneath the stairs to begin
with. Call him paranoid, but it had saved his life more times than he could
count. And after all, it wasn't really paranoia when others were really out to
get you.
Harry suddenly froze in place at the entrance to the dining area and covered
his eyes with both his palms – moaning in pain all the while. When did the sky
become so bright?! It burns! His retinas were burning!
===============================================================================
Tom's POV
The sound of someone entering the private dining area off of the kitchen (upon
exploration he had discovered that there were actually two, one for private
usage whilst the other was for guests) made Tom look up from his cereal. He
stifled the scoff that desperately wanted to appear on his usually stoic face
when he saw who exactly that person was.
Hadrian Gryffindor, his so-called adoptive father, was currently covering his
eyes with both of his hands and moaning as if he were in pain from just being
in the presence of sunlight. It wasn't even that bright.
Tom's dark eyes roamed his guardian's body, taking note of all the… disgusting
unidentified things… on every inch of his person. To be frank, Harry looked far
worse than a homeless person that hasn't showered in decades. His coat was
beyond disheveled, what with all types of colored liquid splattered on it, and
Tom swore that the dark red liquid soaked into the man's sleeves looked similar
to blood – almost as if Harry had just finished digging through the guts of a
human or large animal. Harry's dark strands that used to be hair wasn't tied,
and had chunks of…was that meat? Tom wrinkled his nose in disgust. He would not
abide by a guardian who didn't know the meaning of the word hygiene.
The state of the man's coat and hair wasn't the only thing that caused Tom to
grimace. Both of Harry's hands were covered in a greenish goo-like substance
eerily in likeness to swamp slime. Tom didn't even want to know what was
underneath the man's fingernails. Overall, Harry looked so revolting that Tom
couldn't stifle his grimace of disgust as he placed his spoon on the table
beside his bowl, his appetite having fled the second Harry had stepped into the
room. He wasn't even halfway through his cereal!
The sound of his spoon being placed on the smooth tabletop alerted Harry to his
presence. As if they were led weights, his guarding dropped his hands from
where they were still covering his eyes from the sunlight streaming through the
large windows dominating the wall behind Tom to stare at him in confusion, his
green eyes blinking owlishly not only to rid them of the tears even now welling
up, but as if he had all but forgotten Tom's very existence! Harry was the only
adult, with the exception of Mrs. Cole because technically she had raised him,
who he could not charm. It made him furious, yet there was something akin to
pleasure as well – he was intrigued by his guardian.
When his eyes had first landed on Harry's figure sitting on one of the
uncomfortable wooden chairs with a bored look on his face at the orphanage, he
had been instantly drawn to the man. He had never felt anything like it before
– like the man was a part of him. Like a connection was made without him even
knowing.
Harry's appearance had made Tom's fascination with the man heighten to new
levels. Hadrian Gryffindor looked similar to Tom, or the other way around since
Tom was the younger of the two. Their eyes may be a different color, but the
facial structure and the shape of their features were far too similar for it to
be mere coincidence. This had made Tom suspicious of the man – Harry could be
his father, although he first thought Harry to be his brother due to how young
the man looked.
"Good morning" he greeted with a charmingly fake smile.
"Tom…" Harry's tone was, as per usual, bored. It made Tom's finger twitch for
his spoon – he wanted to hit the man so badly, and he wasn't even one to resort
to physical violence! There was nothing about Tom Riddle that was boring.
Nothing at all! "It has been…ah…awhile."
This…this…this man! He really made Tom's mountain of patience crumble!
"A week" he replied flatly.
"Ah…? I beg your pardon?" Harry responded stiltedly, his confusion obvious.
Harry would be begging more than just a pardon when Tom was older! How he
fantasized on making this infuriating specimen of mankind drop to his knees
and beg to be in Tom's very presence.
"It's been a week since."
Tom had been left alone for a week. A week! Him! Alone! A week! It was
irresponsible for an adult to leave a child – not even a preteen yet – alone
for a week. Even the caretakers back at Wool's had not left him alone for so
long, regardless of how much he wished that they did.
"Oh…" was Harry's bright reply as he scratched his cheek in embarrassment – the
man's pale skin tone made the sudden flush obvious. "Ah…so…what have you been
up to this past week?"
Tom's smile vanished as he deadpanned at Harry. Really? That was all? Not even
asking the basic question of 'Oh, how are you adjusting?' The nerve of this
man! Tom mentally slapped himself for losing his cool and forced himself to
cheerfully scoop up some of his now soggy cereal and bring the spoonful up to
his lips. Disgusting.
Sighing inaudibly under his breath, he stared into his cereal bowl. He hadn't
even been in this man's presence for a total of twenty four hours and he was
already on the verge of losing his temper. He didn't know how Harry did it.
Even those brats from Wool's were unable to shatter his mask so easily – and oh
how they'd tried. Harry just needed to stand there with his usual bored and
half-lidded expression and Tom was ready to blow a lid. Mentally, that is.
However, he figured that it would soon be physically. It was unhealthy to
suppress so much anger and frustration. He should make his new guardian buy him
a diary so that he could pour all his hate and anger inside – he had heard that
it was therapeutic to unbottle his feelings.
With that thought in mind, he looked up…only to blanch at the state his
guardian was in.
"I sincerely hope that you are not intending on contaminating the fridge by
touching it with those hands" he said sharply, horrified at the mere thought of
Harry touching anything with those…those…awful excuses for hands.
Said hands, one of which was already half-way to the fridge's handle,
thankfully froze. Tom sighed inwardly in relief as he tilted his head to the
side cutely. Harry only blinked at him. Tch, so adorable doesn't work on the
man as well. He really needed to find a weakness to exploit.
"And may I ask exactly when the last time you actually took a shower was?" The
smell of rotten meat and fruit were enough to make a normal person heave out
their food in repugnance. Luckily enough, Tom was not a normal person and could
suppress such undignified reactions. For however long was another matter
altogether. The odor was intense and he hoped that Harry would get the hell out
of the dining area soon lest he gag like some uncouth brat.
Harry had the gall to look confused. Tom resisted the urge to walk up to the
man and strike him where it hurts most – Harry was that infuriating. He took a
deep breath (and almost gagged) to calm himself and used his eyes to boldly
roam the man's body.
Harry thankfully got the hint and looked down. He sighed as if it were a chore
and idly ran a hand through his hair. It made some of the slimy green substance
stick on the birds-nest the man called hair and Tom had to withhold a shudder.
That was absolutely disgusting. How can his guardian could even feel
comfortable with those…substances on his bare skin was a mystery
Tom never wanted to solve.
Much to Tom's amazement, with a single wave of his hand over his body, Harry's
clothing was suddenly squeaky clean and neat. Next was his hair and soon to
follow was his face and hands, his resulting appearance making it seem as if
Harry had always been that clean. There wasn't even any lingering smell.
So this was Magic… Astonishing…
"Yes" was the short and simple answer. Tom almost deadpanned. Almost. He kept
his face relaxed with a tiny smile on it.
"How much have you read concerning Magic, Tom?" Harry questioned as he once
again made a grab for the fridge, but this time Tom made no move to stop him.
He looked clean enough.
"Just the basics." He could only learn so much in just a week after all, no
matter how smart he may be. Eidetic memory has a downside to it – his eyes
tired faster than the average person, and he needed to rest them lest he wanted
to require eyeglasses.
"Do you need me to clarify anything?" Harry asked as he took out a tin of
pineapple, Tom taking a mental note of Harry's sparkling eyes as he stared at
the tin. Bribing material acquired. Who knew that such an unhealthy looking
(Harry was beyond pale) person could like cold canned fruits? Perhaps Harry had
an unhealthy addiction to sweets or something similar.
"Yes actually. In all the books that I have read, it has never once covered how
I could go about discovering which category my Magic falls into." He was
curious, and judging by the books' content on Dark Magic, his fell into that
category – but he wanted to be absolutely sure.
Harry kicked the fridge door closed and walked up to the seat opposite him and
sat down. He then stretched out his right hand and a spoon came sailing towards
his outstretched hand – which he caught. Nice reflexes. Tom didn't know what
Harry did, but to be able to peel a metallic can open with just two fingers was
noteworthy – the can had no ring atop of it, the lid was smooth.
He felt more than saw Harry's Magic (if he assumed correctly) travel along his
arm and focus at his fingers and then pooling there before Harry peeled the
fruit can open. Tom needed to research this more. Magic might even be capable
of giving a person superhuman strength, but first he had to learn how from
Harry – which could take quite a while from what he had observed of his
guardian thus far. He assumed that the man would rather sit on his lazy arse
than help Tom on his path to greatness.
"Mainly it's hereditary" Harry finally answered as he scooped a piece of
pineapple from the can. "If your parents are both Light, you'll be Light. If
they're Dark, you're Dark."
"What if one of them was Light and the other Dark?"
"Not many Light orientated magical's would ever want to sleep with a Dark witch
or wizard, little own procreate with them." Harry said nonchalantly as if he
were not discussing two people mating with one another with an eleven year old
– Tom only knew about this because he got curious when two teenagers at Wool's
had decided to read a magazine full of scantily dressed women. "But if that
were to happen, the child would have a 49% chance of having a Grey magical
core."
"What about the other 51%?" It was annoying that he needed to prompt Harry into
answering his questions fully. He stirred his soggy cereals idly as he listened
attentively.
"Not 51. It's 50%. The child would have a 50% chance of following their mother,
and a 1% chance of following their father."
"Why their mother?"
"Because she's the bearer of the fetus." He stated matter-of-factly as he
fingered his spoon.
Again Tom would've likely been lost, like any other eleven year old, if he had
not researched this very topic. Really, he would never recommend Harry to be a
teacher – or manage to convince him. The convincing part could even be
considered harder.
"Which category does my mother fall into?" His eyes sharpened, but Harry didn't
notice – he was too busy relishing in the taste of the canned pineapple. What
was so good about canned fruits anyway?
Harry's lips parted, however the answer made Tom rather disappointed. The man
sure was alert, even when eating. Humans tend let their guards down when
enjoying their food –something he always took full advantage of in order to
gain information. He was beginning to simultaneously resent and respect Harry.
"She could be any" Harry said absently as he spooned yet another piece of
pineapple whilst lazily resting his cheek atop his palm and his elbow on the
table. "But since you're an orphan, there is another way to know which category
you are."
"Before that, you said that it's mainly hereditary. Why mainly?"
"Mainly because there is a minuscular chance, and I mean very minuscular chance
of a child changing their core to suit their personality. This however is only
for those who have yet to reach their magical majority."
Harry sighed tiredly as if the whole thing was a waste of time to explain. Tom
reigned in his anger and plastered a small innocent smile on his face, which
was ignored by Harry in favor of a piece of pineapple. This man…really pissed
him off. He was inferior to a bloody pineapple of all things! Tom reigned in
the urge to throw a tantrum.
"The child's upbringing and mentality are the key factors to changing their
category. For example, if a child from a Light orientated family came to
despise Light spells and preferred Darker ones – they would likely use those
during a duel or just daily living. Their core would then be forced to adapt to
that change, and if the child is determined enough, the change may become
permanent."
He thought about it for a moment whilst playing with his extremely soggy
cereal. This meant that his parents could be from any category – since he was
not raised by either of them, and his personality was darker than most
children.
But wait… How did Harry know that he was a half-blood? His suspicions of Harry
being his father rose as he narrowed his eyes at his cereal. His hearing was
excellent and his memory retention was even better – he had heard Harry's one
sided conversation (on the stranger's part) with a blonde man during their
impromptu shopping trip. Harry had said that Tom was a Half-blood, but how
could he possibly have known that unless he was his father, or at least related
to him in some way?
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind – this wasn't the time to be
caught in his own ruminations. He needed to know which category his core fell
into, and besides, his guardian was bound to slip up sooner or later.
"You said something about a way of me knowing which category I fall into,
without needing to figure out who my parents are" he said airily as he watched
the man before him.
Harry stirred his spoon around the can for a moment before sighing tiredly. He
absentmindedly munched on a piece of pineapple before dropping his spoon into
the now empty fruit can. Tom only continued to stare as his guardian stood up
to stretch.
"Wait here whilst I retrieve the things that we require."
"Why not just summon them?" Tom knew that Harry would rather do just that – the
man was too lazy for his own good.
"It's better to do things such as those the Muggle way. If I were to summon
them to myself, it could potentially mess up the results due to my magical
residue."
His dark eyes followed Harry's back as his guardian rummaged through the
kitchen cupboards and drawers, leaving a mess in his wake. He grimaced at how
messy Harry was being and swore to himself that he would at least try to force
Harry to be a cleaner person – he would not introduce his sloppy guardian to
his future minions otherwise.
He was lucky that Harry had house-elves. If not for them, this Manor would
undoubtedly be a pigsty by now. The things Harry brought back made him raise
both eyebrows in surprise and doubt. Why would they require a…heart shaped egg
pan of all things, a bottle of oil and a banana?
Harry placed the pan atop the table before pouring the oil to its brim. He
waved his hand motioning to his side, as if inviting Tom to stand next to him.
Tom rose from his seat and stood beside his guardian, curious at what the man
would be doing.
"Let me show you an example." Harry said as he took a small portion from the
banana into his right hand and the pan's handle in his left. "First, you direct
the flow of magic into your chosen hand, and maintain it before gently pushing
it into the handle. It's similar to…" He cut himself off with a slight frown
marring his youthful face.
"Similar to…?" Tom urged.
"To how you handle a wand" he settled on.
Oh. He felt a tic appear on his temple at being underestimated and pulled out
his Yew wand from his right sleeve, where he had made it a habit to strap his
holster and gave it a sharp flick. His magic travelled from his core and into
his left arm before flowing out through his wand. Red sparks came out from the
tip and he mentally smirked at Harry's subconscious nod of acceptance.
"It looks like you've been practicing. That's good then."
"I have." He returned his wand to its previous place and tilted his head
upwards – he hoped puberty would hit soon. He hated being short.
"Right then… It's like what you just a second ago did. Direct your magic into
the pan, and see the results."
The oil that was within the pan suddenly had bubbles, and Tom's eyes widened
slightly at hearing the sizzling noises – it was boiling. His guardian then
dropped the piece of banana clutched in his right hand and they watched as the
banana all but blackened before instantly melting into goo.
"If the oil boils and fries your chosen food, it shows that the person has a
Grey core" Hadrian drawled as he dumped the contents indifferently onto the
floor at the opposite side of Tom.
"Fry…? The banana didn't just fry…" It melted, just like the floor. He was
transfixed as he observed how the oil was literally eating through the floor as
easy as a knife slicing through butter.
"It depends on the wizard's magical prowess – it matters not how small their
core is, skill is far more important." Harry stated nonchalantly as if he had
not just admitted to being skilled enough for his Magic to cause the oil to
melt through the bloody floor. Tom didn't know if this was the result of many
Grey wizards, but he would have to find out – he needed a grasp on how strong
his guardian was if he wanted to force the man to his knees.
Just as Harry was about to pour oil into the pan, Tom took hold of the man's
slender wrist.
"Perhaps another pan?" he suggested pointedly. He did not want to risk his hand
being burnt by the extreme heat the pan was emitting – he could literally see
how hot it was by the wafting steam alone.
"Hm? Oh." Harry blinked owlishly, as if only just noticing that the handle was
burning hot, before dumping the pan onto the melted floor. Tom's eyebrow
twitched in irritation as he suddenly felt like a parent watching their child
going outside to play without cleaning up their toys first.
Harry rummaged through the kitchen cupboards yet again before pulling out a
bunny-head shaped egg pan and placing it in front of Tom, who merely
deadpanned. Who would want their eggs to be in the shape of a rabbits head? He
personally preferred his eggs to be normal, round and sunny side up.
He watched as Harry poured oil into the new pan. Once his guardian was done, he
grabbed the handle and narrowed his eyes in concentration. It took him a few
tries, but he finally managed. It was definitely harder than he thought it
would be to direct his Magic into a non-magical object.
A few moments passed by with him not seeing any results. It made him frown and
just as he was about to push more magic into the pan, Harry stopped him.
"That's enough, Tom" the man drawled as he took the left over banana and shoved
it into…his mouth? Was this man a pig in human skin?! "Congratulations, your
core is Dark."
What?
"Nothing happened, Harry." He stated as he continued to stare at the oil as if
it had done him wrong – which it had.
"Something happened alright. Magic isn't always what you see – sometimes you
can't always trust your eyes. Try lifting the pan up." Tom was rather doubtful
but did just that, only for him to almost drop the pan in shock. It was heavier
than it looked. Too heavy in fact.
"If weight is added to the oil, it means that your core is Dark. You should
practice this in your free time and try to master it."
Tom was baffled but he took Harry's advice to heart. Magic wasn't always what
it seemed, and he would not think inside the box when it came to Magic anymore.
Maybe Magic has no boundaries, and humans are the ones who created them? He
made yet another mental note to research such possibilities – were wizards able
to fly with the aid of Magic alone?
"What would happen to the oil if the person's core is Light?"
"I'm not really sure." Harry brought a hand to his chin in thought. "I actually
learnt this from a Dark…wizard. His oil was incredibly heavy, and was even able
to break through the floor." He saw his guardian shudder and was instantly
curious.
"Who is the wizard? Is he someone famous?"
"More like infamous…" he heard his guardian whisper under his breath – it was
probably said unintentionally. "The wizard was a Master in all three categories
of magic – Dark, Grey, and Light. Even though he was a Dark wizard he was able
to master the other two. An incredible feat that many could only dream of
accomplishing."
That didn't answer his question of who the wizard was though.
"What about you, Harry?"
"Who knows?" Harry smiled lazily at him. "I've never really had difficulty in
performing Light or Dark based spells, but I've never gone all the way to
mastering them like he did. Really…he was someone I admired once upon a time.
Though his personality leaves much to be desired" Harry added as an
afterthought, a grimace crossing his face as if he were remembering something
particularly unpleasant before his expression returned to its usual bored one.
He was now extremely curious about who this wizard was. Someone that this lazy,
slothful, sloppy man admired? Now that was someone he wanted to meet.
"Oh! And do not, and I repeat, do not inform other people about your status."
"Status?" He tilted his head.
"Of you being a Dark wizard. Since the 1400's, Dark wizards were considered
evil in the eyes of many and if you admit to being one…Azkaban is the only
place they'll ever send you to."
Azkaban… He had read about the infamous wizarding prison with its soul sucking
guards in a book a few days ago. Not a place he wanted to go – though he would
gladly throw his enemies, such as the children from Wool's orphanage, there.
"Why? They are born with a Dark core aren't they?"
"Yeah. Light wizards make up the majority of the wizarding community. Tom, in
this world, there are no such things as racism according to skin color. The
only thing that is similar to the muggle world's racism is Dark and Light magic
and blood purity. Grey Magic wielders are… rare as I previously stated, and not
many Dark wizards and Light witches or vice versa would sleep together – so the
community just decided to conveniently forget that my kind exists."
Tom could only stare at the lazy man as his eyes turned from half-lidded to
serious.
"Many have forgotten that it is not the magic that is evil, but the intention
of the caster." Harry sighed and gave a jaw breaking yawn. "Is there anything
else you need me to clarify for you?"
Oh how he hated this man for always changing the subject when it got to the
good part. It was the same for the elves as well. He wanted to know more about
them, but Harry only waved him off and said to look them up. How was he
supposed to look them up when he couldn't find the correct book?!
"Hogwarts" he said decidedly as he seated himself in his previous seat and
picked up a glass of milk. "I would like to know more about Hogwarts."
Harry slumped into his seat opposite Tom and rested his right elbow on the
table with his cheek cradled in his palm.
"Hold on. Bloopy!" Said house-elf popped slightly away from the table and bowed
until her nose grazed the floor. "Clean the place up – the kitchen as well.
Thanks."
"Yes Master Hadrian sir. Is you's be's needing anything else?"
"Nope."
The elf turned to him. "And you's, Young Master Tom sir?"
"No."
Bloopy begun cleaning the mess Harry made.
"Now then. What do you know about Hogwarts?"
"I only know that there are four Houses. From Dumbledore." He brought the glass
of milk to his lips and took a few sips. He didn't trust the old bearded man –
he stank of deceits. "I couldn't find any books containing information
regarding Hogwarts in this Manor's library."
"Did he tell you what the Houses are called?" Tom nodded. "What about the
traits of each House?"
"He did not." He shook his head lightly.
"Alright." Harry sighed as if it was all a bother. Tom was getting used to the
man's attitude and just continued to smile lightly. "As you're already aware,
the four are called Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. They are
named after the four founders that built Hogwarts in…the late Early Middle
Ages."
Harry's left hand rose lethargically and he sloppily drew the Hufflepuff crest
in the air by channeling his magic through his middle finger. It was a poorly
drawn image, but still recognizable.
"Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, loyalty and fair play. The emblematic
animal is a badger, representative of earth, and yellow and black are its house
colors. Yellow represents wheat, whilst black represents soil. Basically, this
House is where all the leftovers are sorted – though if you've attained their
loyalty, they will never betray you."
That meant that this was the House where he could potentially gain minions that
would literally die for him. He was definitely going to keep an eye on this
one.
Harry drew Ravenclaw's crest next to Hufflepuff's. It made Tom raise a brow at
his guardian's drawing ability, or in this case lack thereof. He had seen
better whilst in the orphanage, and that was saying something.
"Those sorted into Ravenclaw are usually witty and have a profound love for
learning. The emblematic animal is an eagle, representative of air and its
House colors are blue and bronze. Blue represents the sky, whilst bronze
represents the eagle's feathers. Simply put, Ravenclaw's are a group of know-
it-alls, however they could be used as great research lackeys."
He made a mental note to form a study group with members of this House.
Harry drew the Slytherin crest above Hufflepuff. Good Lord, it really looked as
if a five year old had drawn it.
"Slytherin is the House for those who are cunning, resourceful and have great
ambition. The emblematic animal is a snake, representative of water, and green
and silver are its colors. Green represents the green lakes and lochs dotting
Scotland whilst silver represents raindrops. This is a House where you build
connections and dance around with words. Dark pureblood families more often
than not land in this House, and many Light magical's believe that only evil
wizards and witches are placed there. As I said before, it's the House of the
cunning, not evil. Those who are sorted into Slytherin often come out great –
so ignore such discrimination."
He would definitely be aiming for this House. He needed connections if he
wanted to find a suitable job in the Ministry and not some random job such as a
shop keeper in order to become the Minister of Magical Britain.
Harry drew the last and final Hogwarts House beside the Slytherin crest.
"Lastly is Gryffindor, the House of courage, chivalry and determination. The
emblematic animal is a lion, representative of fire, and red and gold are its
House colors. Red represents the lion's mane whilst gold represents its coat.
This is the house where all the stubborn and foolish children go to. They are
easily tricked and usually tend to solve things physically instead of mentally
or verbally. To put it bluntly, they're the polar opposite of Slytherins and
this is one of the many, many, many contributing factors as to why students
belonging to the two Houses can never get along with one another."
Tom raised a brow at the description of the House as he tried to imagine
Hadrian Gryffindor as chivalrous and determined.
…He couldn't. It was impossible to even put Harry and chivalry or foolish or
easily tricked into the same sentence. His minds image of Harry was a slothful,
unhygienic, lazy and constantly tired pale man with selective memory. He didn't
have a high opinion of his guardian, but who could blame him? He had not seen
Harry for a week after the man had literally left him alone in this Manor to do
who knows what.
Harry batted the drawings away like they were merely annoying flies before
dropping his arm to rest on the tabletop as if it weighed like lead.
"Did you get that all?" Harry questioned tiredly.
He raised a brow when Harry rubbed his jaw, as if he had never spoken that much
before, and nodded his head.
"Yes… Though I do have a question" he added, vindictively amused when Harry
looked incredibly reluctantly to answer anything more. Tom grinned inwardly. It
was incredibly pleasing to see that he was the cause of Harry's aching jaw – he
knew that it was childish of him, but he could act his age at times. He had to
get his kicks somehow, right?
"What is it?" Harry sighed.
"Your family name is Gryffindor. Does that mean that your ancestor was the one
who built ¼ of the school?"
"Yes. Godric Gryffindor was my many times paternal great grandfather."
Tom only stared at him as he stood up from his seat.
"We will continue this another time. I need sleep…"
"… Alright. See you later, Harry." Harry waved lethargically and dragged his
feet out of the dining area with much difficulty.
His eyes followed his guardian's unaware back as he begun to plot ways to get
Harry to admit that he was indeed Tom's father – or someone related to him at
least. And after Harry had finally admitted to the truth, he would make Harry
regret ever leaving him at Wool's for eleven painful years.
===============================================================================
Rainbows and Frustrations,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter End Notes
     This chapter was edited by Anankastic Eosphoros (the reason why it's
     so much better than my other chapters)
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     This was a Christmas Special chapter I posted on FFnet. Think of it
     as an Extra or Omake.
     Contains sexually explicit materials. I advise you to read alone, or
     in a corner where nobody can look over your shoulder.
25 December 1944
Location: Scotland, Odd Manor, One of Harry's many Nests
Harry was having a ferocious headache as he rubbed his temples with a groan.
Tom had been a pain in the arse, literally and figuratively, last night.
Holiday seasons were not his cup of tea (and that brat knew that!), and he was
awfully busy with his current projects to celebrate such a useless occasion. He
burrowed deeper into his fortress of pillows and sighed in pleasure at the
comfortable feeling of warmth.
"Harry?" Tom's muffled voice made him stifled a groan. That boy was too
persistent for his own good! Did Tom not see that Harry was busy right now? 
"Harry I know you're awake in there."
He continued to ignore the teenager even after he had heard the door creak
open. It has been six years since he had adopted one Tom Marvolo Riddle, now
officially Tom Marvolo Gryffindor, and he has regretted that decision ever
since – still do actually (sometimes). He wanted his easy going and carefree
life style back. Oh, how he wished Santa was real so that he could wish for
such a thing.
"I'll throw away that metallic bird you're so very fond o–"
Harry shot up from his fortress of pillows – destroying them in the process –
and grabbed ahold of his adopted son's front shirt tightly.
"Don't you dare touch Ms. Tweetiepoo, Tom!"
"Good morning to you as well, sleepyhead." Tom grabbed ahold of his chin,
tilted it upwards and gave him a lingering kiss on the lips, which he responded
to almost instinctively. Harry's cheeks turned a little rosy and he scowled at
the cheeky brat.
"…Good morning, Tom." He murmured as he freed his chin. "You better have a
bloody good reason for waking me up so damn early."
"One does not call seven in the evening early. Really… I thought your habit of
sleeping in was already gone."
"Whose fault do you think it is?" He whispered under his breath sulkily.
"Did you say something?" Tom gave him a blinding smile and he stiffened.
"Nothing at all!"
Tom only nodded as if expecting that answer and began leading him with his hand
firmly placed on Harry's small of the back. He mentally waved his makeshift
bedroom, which was a closet filled with blankets and pillows, good bye and
mourned the loss of yet another one of his hiding nests.
"Where are we going?" He drawled tiredly.
"Shower."
"… Why would you wake me up if you wish to take a shower?"
"Not me. You."
"I could just –"
"I will tolerate you using Magic for everything else, Harry. But you will be
taking a shower the Muggle way." Tom's eyes hardened and Harry nodded
hurriedly. "Good. I've already prepared your attire – it's on the bed, so be
sure to don those on."
"Yes, Tom…"
"I also expect you to drink your nutrition potions as well. Not a single drop
should be left behind."
"Yes, Tom…"
"And for goodness sake stop slouching."
"Yes, Tom…"
"You're not listening are you?"
"Yes, Tom…"
"Hadrian Seirios Gryffindor!"
Harry jumped in surprise before turning to Tom, who looked murderous. He
swallowed inaudibly and shifted nervously. One does not simply ignore Tom
without consequences.
===============================================================================
   He idly blew another soap bubble as he continued to shampoo his long hair,
  with much difficulty he might add. He winced as yet another knot was pulled
  roughly by his lethargic digits. Was this why Tom kept on pestering him to
brush his hair daily? He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cold tiled
wall in front of him. He closed his eyes once he had finished rinsing his messy
 nest thoroughly. Using a body cleanser charm was so much easier and less time
                             consuming than this.
His Avada colored green eyes shot opened in surprise when he felt a pair of
slender yet muscular arms wrapped around his waist almost possessively, and he
looked over his shoulder at the person who was interrupting his alone time. It
was not a surprise to see Tom behind him, already naked as the day he was born.
He leaned against the muscular chest behind him and parted his lips to speak.
"There's another empty bathroom across the hall, Tom." He drawled as his head
was titled to one side.
"There is," Tom paused to trail kisses down his side of the neck and shoulder
slowly. "however the bathroom here has my very naked lover inside. It's obvious
as to which I would prefer."
"What if I wanted to shower alo–" he bit a side of his cheek to stifle a moan
that had threatened to slip passed his lips when Tom nibbled on his (very
sensitive) nape.
"All you have to do is ask me to leave." Tom whispered into his ear, and it
caused his whole body to shiver uncontrollably. Damn this brat for having such
a husky, erotic voice. And damn, puberty has done well to Tom. 
He felt hands trailing down his body before he was turned and pushed roughly
into the wall of his shower stall – their chests touching and with one of Tom's
long legs between his. The feeling of Tom's lips that were instantly upon his
own made him wrap his arms around Tom's neck to pull his lover closer. He
parted his lips to allow Tom's dexterous tongue entry, and moaned at the unique
taste of his lover. Their kiss lasted for a while longer before they broke
apart for air, and stared at each other's darkened, lust-filled eyes.
Their gaze was broken when Harry blinked and Tom was on his knees – a sight
many would think impossible, for Tom was a very prideful teenager. Harry's
breath hitched when Tom's tongue ran over the tip of his erection, his hands
fisting Tom's damp dark hair. His lover's dark, slightly crimson eyes never
left his half-lidded ones, as he began to suck the head of Harry's hardened
length. He was unable to contain the throaty moan that had left his lips when
Tom slowly swallowed all of him. He panted and whimpered when Tom's wet muscle
swirled around his shaft and he could soon feel pressure building up in his
lower abdomen. It felt so good that he wanted more – and it made the grip on
his hips tightening in warning when he tried to reflexively thrust on his own.
He frowned, but forced himself to remain still even though his legs felt like
jelly right now.
"Tom… Nnh… I…I'm –" He moaned loudly when Tom only bobbed faster in response to
his warning. Those dark eyes spoke volumes, and Harry could clearly make out
the words 'then come already' from them. His body tensed in preparation before
he felt himself explode blissfully into Tom's sexy mouth with a hoarse cry.
Tom then slowly removed himself from Harry's gradually softening member with a
slick pop, and Harry dazedly watched him as he swallowed Harry's cum. He
absently brushed some of his white liquid seeds that had leaked out from his
lover's lips using his thumb, before Tom stood up gracefully from his knees and
supported Harry, whose legs were already trembling, by lifting him up. Harry
was quick to wrap his legs around his lover's waist, with his hands firmly on
Tom's broad shoulders, and his back against the cold shower stall's wall.
They kissed lazily for a short moment to give Harry time to recover from his
state of rapture – and because Tom wanted Harry to taste himself as per usual –
before Tom began trailing kisses down to his throat. He moaned softly when he
felt a hand skillfully kneading one of his globes, whilst the other stopped at
his chest and began pinching and twisting his right nipple.
Harry arched his back at the double stimuli he was receiving before he raised
both his hands to place them at his lover's cheeks – bringing Tom in for a
passionate kiss. He knew that his eyes were now half-lidded due to pleasure
rather than his usual boredom.
"Nnh!" he made a low pleasurable sound when he felt a finger probing his rear
entrance – already softened and wet due to being in the shower for an unknown
duration of time.
"How convenient." Tom murmured as one of his long slender fingers that were
sleeked with makeshift lubricant – soap, his mind conveniently provided –
entered him without much of a problem.
"Tom…" He felt Tom's hardened arousal, which was rubbing against his lower
abdomen, twitch at the way he breathily said his lover's name, and he licked
his upper lip in anticipation.
Another finger was soon inserted and he grimaced slightly at the feeling of
being stretched. It wasn't awful per say, more of a weird sensation that he
would rather not think about whilst in this position. The fingers that were
playing with his nipple soon moved upwards to fist his hair roughly, before
they tilted his head backwards until his throat was completely bared. It used
to bring him discomfort at exposing such a weakness to the future Dark Lord,
but now he just accepted that this was Tom's way of showing his dominance over
him – Tom hated being the younger one in this strange relationship of theirs.
Love bites would undoubtedly be appearing around his throat and collar bone as
Tom continued to suck and bite the region.
"Say that you want me, Harry…" Tom whispered breathily into his ear before he
bit and tugged on Harry's earlobe.
"Tom… Ah…! I want y…you! Oh I want you!" he squirmed as yet another finger
entered him. Those digits began searching for his sweet spot and as soon as his
fuzzy mind thought about that, he saw white as Tom brushed against his
prostate. "Ahn…! T-there… Tom! Right there!" he mewled as he arched off the
wall.
The fingers soon disappeared and Harry whined at the loss, however they were
soon replaced by a larger piece of meat he had come to known intimately as
Tom's hardened length, nudging at his entrance. His nails bit into Tom's
shoulders, but they both paid it no mind as Tom slowly entered him, inch by
inch, until Tom was completely swallowed by his body.
Harry's lips parted and he gave a soundless scream – no matter how many times
they did this, it would always hurt the first few seconds. Tom tucked some of
Harry's stray strands behind his ear, before Tom leaned his forehead against
Harry's. They stayed that way until Harry nodded as a sign for his lover to
move. And move he did. Tom slowly slid out before pushing back in, the head of
his lover's considerable length accurately hitting his prostate. He moaned
loudly at the intense pleasure he felt.
"Ah…! Th…ere! H…Harder, Tom!"
Tom pulled out before pushing back inside, though a lot harder and speedy than
before. Harry only continued to moan and repeatedly called out his lover's
name, which made Tom more than a little enthusiastic – he was already
ruthlessly pounding into Harry without remorse. They both preferred
their lovemaking to be a little rough sometimes. 
Tom's hand soon grabbed and started pumping his member, and it made the
pleasure unbearable to contain any longer from the double stimuli. Harry's
muscles contracted as he came with a cry of his lover's name. The white warm
liquid shot all over both of their chests, and he heard Tom's breathe hitch.
His lover went rigid and Harry mewled at the feeling of Tom's hot liquid
gushing into him. The pressure felt wonderful and after it had stopped, Harry
collapsed onto his lover bonelessly.
The two then slowly slid down the wall – Tom being unable to support them when
he himself felt his legs to be similar to jello. Harry felt more than see
himself being manhandled until he was back to chest with Tom behind him, his
lover's arms securely around his waist.
"We… should… clean up… again..."
Tom only hummed his agreement, but made no move to stand. Harry sighed and made
himself comfortable… well, as comfortable as one can with a dick still inside
of him of course.
===============================================================================
                                        
He scowled as he wrapped a white scarf around his neck, mentally cursing Tom
for giving him such noticeable hickeys. Tom's possessive nature was sometimes
of a pain to deal with, always wanting to show others that Harry was taken – he
wasn't even that good looking in his own eyes.
"Are you ready?" Tom peered through from the hallway and Harry shivered at the
way those dark eyes roamed his figure almost hungrily.
Tom had prepared for him some fancy green dress robes – it matches his eyes,
Tom had said – and he shifted uncomfortably in them. They snugged him at all
the right places, and it was constricting at best. He truly preferred his usual
polo shirts, sweat pants, and lab coat.
He just sighed through his nose and dragged his boot clad feet towards Tom, who
was dressed in similar robes, but dark crimson in color. When he was close
enough, Tom tapped in between his shoulder blades and he straightened up almost
instantaneously – he really felt like a trained dog at times like this. How
degrading...
"Now Harry… You shouldn't scowl so much. It'll ruin your beauty." Two of Tom's
fingers poked him in between his brows and he swatted those offending digits
away in mock offense, trying and failing to hide his reddening cheeks. This
brat has always been flattering.
"Couldn't we just eat here?" He whined as he was led to their manor's living
room, where the floo was located at.
"I've already reserved for us a table at this newly opened restaurant I've
heard much about… And cease your whining, Harry. A man of your age should act
like so."
"But you know that I detest going out in public, Tom. What if my… fans are
there?" They stood in front of the fireplace, with Harry looking far too
reluctant, and Tom giving him an annoyed look.
"Private room." Tom stated matter of factly and grabbed a handful of Floo
powder. He wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and threw the powder into the
fireplace, before they stepped forward, one more unenthusiastically than the
other. "The Mystic Flare."
As they stepped out of the fireplace, Tom instantly banished all the soot that
they had collected and strode confidently towards a female restaurant
attendant… before he paused and turned around to drag his unwilling companion
along by his elbows.
"Really… I feel like a parent dragging my very reluctant child to preschool."
Tom whispered under his breath, though his expression still remained that of a
charming prince – Harry could literally see every female in this room just
undressing HIS Tom with their hungry eyes. The only sign that he was irritated
by them was the split-second twitch of his eyebrows.
Without much thought – and because Tom had literally drilled this into his body
– his posture became that of an aristocratic gentleman, and he strode alongside
his adoptive son with equal grace that many would be envious of. His features
were schooled into one of serene indifference as they were led by the
restaurant attendant to their prearranged private room. His public mask, as Tom
had dubbed it, was always worn when he has a meeting with one of his many
clients – it has become apparent to him that his youthful features made his
clients underestimate his skills for inventing, and they would treat him
similar to that of an inexperience door-to-door salesman. For him to have his
inventions taken seriously, he adapted. It was less troublesome that way.
When the door to their private room closed behind them, he sighed and plopped
down onto one of the two seats without a care in the world. Tom, on the other
hand, only shook his head as if expecting such an act from him, and seated
himself directly opposite of Harry. The circular table was only wide enough for
two people. Food had already been prepared for them beforehand, and Tom
skillfully used his Magic to direct the wine into the two wineglasses atop
their white-clothed tabletop. Tom picked up a wineglass and gestured for him to
do the same, which he did.
They toasted and sampled their wine before Tom spoke.
"Well, what do you think?" Tom gestured around the room they were in, and Harry
had to admit that the decorations were quite nicely done – the size of said
room wasn't too big or small as well. There was a chandelier above their table,
and floating candles situated all around the room. The wallpaper was on the
darker shade of golden and had beautiful patterns drawn on them.
"It's alright I guess." He shrugged uncaringly and Tom only smiled at him
fondly – as if knowing his true thoughts. Brat. 
Tom reached over the table for his plate and started to load it with different
kinds of food before he returned said plate in front of Harry. Harry only
stared down at the… unique dishes and looked up to see Tom doing the same for
his own plate.
"Alright. I give. What's the special occasion?" He questioned curiously as he
dug out his P7 potion and sprayed it on his and Tom's plate – the spray version
was so much more convenient than the eye drop version.
"It's Yule, Harry. We're just having a family dinner."
"… I thought Winter Solstice was on the 21st?"
"You had a meeting with Abraxas's father during the 21st." Tom scooped some
kind of broth and sipped it tentatively.
"What about the 22nd?" He blinked when Tom brought a spoon in front of him, and
he opened his mouth to taste the broth. He hummed at the exotic taste, not
quite sure if it was considered good or bad.
"You were holed up in your lab and tinkering with that metallic thing you call
a bird."
"… Ms. Tweetiepoo is not a thing. She's a cute, loveable, adorable, beautiful
–"
"More wine?"
"… No, but thank you, Tom." He pouted. "What about the 23rd?"
"You went to Gringotts to settle some official matters concerning your Will."
"The 24th…?"
"You were too sore to move." Was said smugly and Harry flushed at the reminder.
This audacious little brat…
"Why don't you try being the bottom and see if you could still walk after I'm
through with you." He whispered under his breath, but apparently not soft
enough. Tom blinked owlishly for a few moments before he chortled. It made
Harry sulk all the more and he murmured nonsense under his breath.
"Alright."
"I knew you wouldn't–… I'm sorry, what?" It was Harry's turn to blink owlishly.
"I said, alright." Tom repeated with an amused smirk on his face.
He could only stare at the future Dark Lord in disbelief as he struggled to
process Tom's words. Without meaning to, his mind drifted off – Tom moaning his
name from underneath him, Tom's beautifully blushing face contorted with
pleasure… Harry's face turned bright crimson and he coughed violently when he
choked on his wine.
"You can consider that as a Yule present from me." Tom purred as he leaned
forward and gave Harry a seductive smirk.
"I will… Uhm… consider that… yeah."
"And as for mine… I've always wanted to have sex with you at the beach."
Harry groaned and covered his beet red face with his hands, not believing that
Tom could be so bold in a public setting – even if this was a private room.
"Is sex the only thing on your mind?"
"Not really." Tom waved his spoon from side to side. "I think about world
domination as well."
Harry deadpanned. And here he thought Tom was only planning to take over
Britain. He shook his head and stabbed a piece of meat, wondering if every Yule
would be just as interesting as this one. He might even come to enjoy such
holidays if so.
===============================================================================
Rainbows and Santa Claus,
GenderlessPerson
***** Chapter 7 *****
10 January 1938
Location: Scotland, Odd Manor, Hadrian's Study
Harry resisted the sudden and unwelcome urge to murder someone – preferably the
sender – as he stared agitatedly at the piece of parchment he was tightly
clutching. It was just another day at Odd Manor, and whilst he was busy with
drawing his preferred designs for a newly framed eyeglass, a beautiful midnight
black owl had swooped through his opened windows and dropped an envelope on his
desk in front of him before it flew off to who knows where.
He blinked his half-lidded eyes curiously. Nobody in the Past knew of him,
apart from the Goblins that is, to send him a letter. He has yet to begun
selling any of his original creations due to all the ingredients and parts
missing – it was still a sore spot for him since many of them were found in the
far Future.
Before he even dared to touch the envelope, he cast a few detection spells just
in case. One can never be too careful about owl mails. Constant Vigilance and
all that. Once the results showed negative, he broke the circular wax seal and
pulled out the parchment from within.
                             Dear Lord Gryffindor,
                   The pleasure of your company is requested
              for dinner and dancing in celebration of our 10 th
                      Wedding Anniversary. January 20 th
                                  1900Hours
                                 Malfoy Manor
                     Lord Darius and Madam Astoria Malfoy
              We await your response no later than January 15 th
"What…?" The word slipped passed his lips as he reread the contents with
disbelief. The Goblins would never dare to betray him – his vaults contained a
lot of gold. They knew better than to sell him out. It would be more of their
lost than his. 
He ran a hand through his strands by habit and rummaged his desk drawers for a
new piece of parchment. He needed to find out if there was a leak, and the
Goblins were the best investigators if provided with enough dough.
He smoothened out the crumpled parchment and dipped the tip of his fountain pen
into his inkpot.
Bloodfang
I need you to set up an investigation
Find out  any  information, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem,
regarding the discovery of my existence
I expect results by January 14 th  and no later
Hadrian
What he wrote may be considered rude towards other Wizards and Witches, but his
Gryffindor account manager knew of his disregard for any form of niceties. He
was always blunt and to the point. The Goblins and he made good business
partners that way, seeing that they both had their own reasons for not wanting
to waste their time with pleasantries and small talks.
He took out a small rectangular wooden box from within the depths of his desk
drawer and lifted the lid. The inside of said box had the Gringotts logo as
well as the Gryffindor and Peverell crests engraved onto it. He then rolled the
parchment in his hands and tied it with a conjured red string, before dropping
it inside the box and closing its lid.
The box lit up for exactly five seconds and Harry only lifted the lid after the
light had died down. Once it was confirmed that the parchment was in fact gone,
he returned the box to where it came from and raked a hand through his hair.
The rectangular wooden box worked similar to that of a Muggle fax machine from
his original timeline, and it had been his idea to introduce this to the
Goblins – he had been frustrated at how time-consuming the owls took, and he
didn't want to head down to the bank every single time he had to pass an
important document to his account managers. The Goblins then had bought the
method of making this so called fax box from him after a few tests were
performed, and they've used it ever since. They introduced this to their
wealthy clients and had thanked him for such a convenient creation. It was far
superior and safer than any owl mail due to lesser time consumption and little
to no chance of intercepting. Additionally, the Goblins charged more than it
was worth. Those scammers.
He slumped into his comfortable office chair and sighed through his nose. He
must've forgotten to put up an anti-owl ward around the manor, and because of
this tiny mistake, he could not pretend that he did not receive any form of the
invitation from the Malfoys. To reject them would make an enemy out of them,
and that would potentially escalate Tom's hatred for him – he had a suspicion
that that boy had a plan to make Malfoy jr his follower. For what, he didn't
know, but he hoped that Tom would not turn out to be Voldemort.
A Magical prodigy Voldemort was, but insanity could make even the most genius
of men become fools. It was as they say; there was a fine line between genius
and stupidity.
Lunch was not for another hour and he was already dead tired. He sighed and
stood up, intending to forget the letter and go on his day as planned. There
was someone he needed to track, and he would not continue to delay it any
further.
===============================================================================
10 January 1938
Location: Knockturn Alley
He stood idly with his hands inside his pockets, oblivious to the other
occupants of Knockturn that were sneering at him for having stopped abruptly at
the middle of a busy road. He mind them not and started to extend his Magical
aura around him – this technique, Circular Radar or CR for short, was something
many Aurors were required to learn. He would be alerted to anything and any
movements that entered his radius of 900m. He wasn't an expert in this
particular field, so 900 was the maximum he could do.
Harry started to randomly walk whilst he continuously held up the invisible
sphere, wishing that the person he was searching for would mysteriously fall
from the sky and into his awaiting arms. 
When he was finally finished with walking around Knockturn, he immediately
released his hold on his CR and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. It
was taxing, all the more for someone who had not continued to practice it.
A parchment then Magically appeared in front of him, and he snatched it out of
the air. He conjured a pen and crossed out Knockturn Alley. His eyes moved
lower. Time to move onto Sexu Alley.
                                     OOOO
The search proved fruitless. He had already searched all of the Alleys, and the
only logical conclusion he could come up with was that she was residing in the
Muggle world. He frowned. If only the internet was already invented in this
timeline, he would have found that woman by now.
There was also a slim chance that she was in another country or not in this
timeline at all. The latter seemed more realistic, however, Magic wasn't
something that could be measured with reality. To be a magnificent inventor, he
needed imagination and creativity.
Harry let out a long sigh of exhaustion and sat himself down on one of the many
benches that were situated near him. Perhaps he should try a simple Point me
spell. It was unlikely to work, but he was already out of ideas – and he was
hungry. He idly wondered what Tom was doing as he took out his wand.
"Point me…" He envisioned her face as he called out the first thing he had
always called her by. "SR12."
As expected, his magical stick lay uselessly on his palm. He knew it was
useless. The Point me spell needed a name, not a label. He sighed yet again and
moved to re-sheath his wand, but stopped when he felt it twitch. He blinked his
half lidded eyes and tried the Point me spell once more. This time, he
concentrated properly. Much to his amazement, it had worked since his wand
whirled quickly around a few times before it stopped. He made a mental note to
experiment this further before he conjured a compass and nodded to himself.
Northeast it is.
He knew his gut feeling was true when he thought about SR12. She was in the
same room he was in when he was transported through time, therefore, there
should be a 50% chance that she was transported as well. He needed to know her
experience and what had happened after she woke up. Perhaps next time he went
to do something, he should try the basics of spells before going all out.
The walk was dreadful. That was the only thing in his mind as he panted in
exhaustion – he had walked for an entire of two hours. Two bloody hours. He
thanked all lucky stars that he was currently wearing his hover boots. It had
lessened the strain he was feeling, but only by a tiny amount since his
invention was still a prototype. They were unable to work like brooms just yet.
He was an indoors kind of person who hated exercise to the core. The sun was
literally burning down on him, and he would undoubtedly have a severe case of
sunburn once he returned to his manor. The cooling charm worked wonders to cool
off his body temperature, preventing heatstroke, but it was not meant to be a
skin protection spell. He made another mental note to invent one as he stared
at the rundown apartment building in front of him.
How she was able to gain money to live in an apartment was a mystery to him,
but heck, he didn't care. He wanted to be out of the sun as soon as humanly
possible. With tired legs, he strode inside said apartment building and sighed
in relief when he was finally sheltered from the evil natural oven known to
mankind as the sun.
When he finally stopped in front of a wooden door that was labeled with a big
9, he tapped the tip of his wand over his head and cast a disillusionment charm
on himself. He then flicked his wand to the door to unlock it silently. He
quietly entered and closed it after him, before stalking towards the direction
of where he heard noises coming from.
He entered what seemed to be the kitchen and immediately perked up when he saw
his beloved SR12 cooking a late lunch for herself. When she turned around,
Harry had to rub his eyes to see if he had seen wrongly. Her appearance… has
changed, for the lack of better wording. Perhaps this was SR12's roommate? 
... The tattoo on her left forearm stated otherwise, though.
She still has her long wavy chestnut brown hair and hazel round eyes. However,
that was all that had remained the same. Her lashes were thicker and longer,
and her bigger than average hooked nose was now straight and sharp. Her lips
that used to be on par with sausages were now plump and looked delectably
kissable. He shook his head at the thoughts in his head, horrified at what he
was actually thinking about his Squib Rat in that way.
He instantly pointed his wand at her and shot a stunner, which made her
unconscious immediately. The bowl that she was carrying shattered next to her
from the unexpected fall. He then dispelled the disillusionment charm and
carried her like she was a sack of potatoes.
Without much thought, he apparated them back to Odd manor.
===============================================================================
Tom's POV
Tom jumped slightly in surprise at his guardian's unexpected arrival. He was
frankly, engrossed in his reading when Harry had suddenly appeared directly in
front of him. The crack was soft, almost inaudible, but his sharp hearing was
something he was proud of. He held back a scathing remark that almost slipped
out from his slightly parted lips and went back to his reading, intending to
ignore the infuriating man who kept on forgetting his existence… before he did
a double take.
Harry was staring at him with his usual look of disinterest, whilst carrying an
unconscious woman on his right shoulder. Tom was curious, yet slightly
perturbed by his guardian's capricious behavior. Every time he assumed that he
had finally figured his guardian out, Harry would do something unexpected to
throw off all of Tom's careful calculated observations into a metaphorical
trash can. It was downright maddening!
"Tom, have you eaten yet?" Harry greeted him as if he wasn't carrying an
unconscious woman on his shoulder, who might or might not, at this point of
time, be dead.
"… I have not. Would it be a bother if I ask for your company?" He questioned
slowly, a small shy smile playing on his lips. He needed Harry to sit through a
meal with him for better chances of Harry slipping. It had not worked in the
past, but hell if he was giving up. Tom was stubborn that way.
His guardian frowned lightly in thought as if checking his schedule (Tom was
supposed to be first priority!) before he nodded.
"I'll be at the table in five minutes."
Harry turned on his heels and strode off to who knows where. He could never
find his guardian sometimes, and he could only assume that there were hidden
chambers around the manor, which he might add, he was never able to find even
till now. He called out one of the house elves and told it that Harry and he
would be having their late lunch now. The elf bowed and popped away as soon as
he had dismissed the creature.
With an inaudible sigh, he made his way to their private dining area.
Hopefully, today would be the day that he would finally find out more about his
father. He still wanted to know why Harry felt so familiar; it was as if they
were one person. It was curious. Harry was a puzzle, and oh, how he loves them
so.
===============================================================================
 Rainbows and Invitations,
GenderlessPerson
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
20 January 1938
Location: Scotland, Odd Manor, Floo Room
Harry's overly soured expression spoke volumes of how willing he was to leave
his home as he grabbed his personal bag of Floo powder atop his fireplace
mantel. He was not in the mood to entertain, and to be honest, quite vexed at
this moment. The conversation with Bloodfang had turned into a disaster. and he
had been tempted to curse the living daylights out of that blabbermouth drunk.
The short halfling was saved only due to Harry's unwillingness to lift his
wand. It took far too much effort.
He was, of course, reassured by the higher ups that the incident of
his supposedly secret identity shan't be leaked out any further, but he was
sceptical at best. He had demanded a change of goblin to be his account
manager, and it was approved swiftly. The only positive outcome from that whole
troublesome incident was the goblin race owed him one. A big one. Too
bothersome to explain why, but meh.
A polite cough was heard from behind of him. Oh, Merlin, save him from an
incoming headache that was Tom.
With a somewhat resigned expression, he turned around. The boy looked curiously
at him, and Harry almost facepalmed. He had forgotten to inform his adoptive
son about the celebration they had (were forced) to attend.
"Ok Tom, I don't have much time to explain, but I need you to get into any of
your formal wear, dress robes included - as fast as humanly possible." The
boy's brow twitched a little, but he smiled, nodded, and ran off to do as
asked. Harry released a sigh of relief, glad that no questions were asked. Yet.
People might question as to why Harry wanted Tom to dress as fancy as could be,
whereas Harry himself only wore his usual polo shirt and sweat pants inside of
some random formal robes, but if one came to know Harry well enough, this was
the best he dressed - they were clean, pressed, and smelt nothing of internal
organs.
A few minutes passed by and soon, Tom returned, looking like a perfect
Pureblood heir. Harry idly wondered where Tom learnt to match his robes, but
shrugged it off in favor of wrapping one of his arms around the boy's (tensed)
shoulders, and pulling him close. Not too close, though. His other free hand
was used to throw a handful of Floo powder, and soon, he all but spat out those
cursed words, "Malfoy Manor."
The two disappeared before reappearing in a flash of green flames inside
another room, vastly different from theirs. This room held expensive
decorations that would make any thief drool with want. Portraits of previous
deceased Malfoy Lords were observing them with judging eyes, much to Harry's
distaste. The room was exactly the same as in his timeline, with a few missing
portraits of course.
They were greeted by an elf clothed in rags and was ushered to the ballroom,
which to Harry's experience, was exactly five minutes and thirty-nine seconds
away. Much lesser than the entrance to the ballroom, but still quite a walk
away.
Since they had time, Harry decided that it would be best to brief Tom as much
as possible, lest the boy despises him even more for making him go in blind.
"We're in the manor of Lord Darius and Madam Astoria Malfoy," He began, his
voice barely above a whisper, yet the youngling heard him as clear as day. It
just shows Harry how inhumane Voldemort was, even when the Dark Lord was but a
child. "attending their 10th wedding anniversary. They have a son, Abraxas, who
is a year younger than you, and a daughter, who is deceased. It is well known
to not mention her in any way or form."
He paused for a second, allowing Tom to absorb the information that he had
freely given before he continued. "We are here because they have invited me,
and in the extension you, mostly because of a rumor they have coincidentally
heard from a drunk goblin stating that I am of the Gryffindor lineage. Avoid
mentioning your blood status, and distract them if needed. Never introduce
yourself as a Gryffindor or hint that you are related to that name in any form.
Be sure to stick close to me, and keep your emotions off your face. These
people sniff weaknesses like a shark scenting blood."
They stopped just in front of two massive double doors, and Harry turned to
Tom, kneeling down on one knee whilst at it, his face comically serious. "We
will leave as soon as possible, so try to endure, and learn, as much as you
can." As he made to get up, Harry hesitated before reaching over to hug Tom.
"There is only a slight chance of him being there, however if you see Albus
Dumbledore, stay clear away from him. He's dangerous."
With that, he let go and stood up, completely missing the baffled expression on
young Tom's face at Harry's show of affection. The elf's wide tennis eyes were
staring at them, and when Harry nodded, it snapped its fingers. The double
doors opened, revealing a horde of people mingling around each other, a soft
background music playing to relax the atmosphere.
As if another person had taken over, Harry's spine snapped straight, his hands
resting inside his pockets without a care, and his expression changed to
borderline contempt as he observed the people in the room, as if they were mere
insects in comparison to him.
Oh how he hated Pureblood gatherings, but he would do this once, just once, for
Tom to experience first hand how to behave in these events. After all, Tom
needed all the help he could get for him to be the Lord of Darkness. Perhaps if
Harry helped the boy through the early stages, Tom would respect him enough in
the future to leave him out of the war.
That thought was firmly implanted in his mind as he walked up to Lord Malfoy,
eyes calculating and for the first time in Tom's life living with Harry, seen
the genius behind his adoptive father's bored demeanour. Harry was never to be
underestimated by the young orphan ever again that night.
===============================================================================
Tom's POV
Just as they stopped in front of a pale man with a pointed face, pale blond
hair and cold grey eyes, Tom almost turned to stare at his guardian with
disbelief when he heard how chilling the man's voice was. The only thing that
was stopping him was Harry's earlier advice of not showing any emotions around
these people - Purebloods, he thought with disdain.
Idly, Tom wondered if blood was truthfully everything.
"Lord Malfoy." Harry greeted, narrowed and dangerous eyes focused solely upon
the blond, who had frozen upon hearing his name being said in such a way.
"Thank you for your invitation, and congratulations for having such a blessed
10 years of marriage." Tom didn't know if his father was being sarcastic or
not, since there was not an ounce of emotion being displayed. He would never
want to admit it, but he found it frightening, yet at the same time very awe-
inspiring.
His eyes brightened as he centred his attention solely onto the two adults, and
made sure that this evening was something he will never forget.
It took a moment for Lord Malfoy to unfroze, but when he did, those grey eyes
of his focused only upon Harry's aristocratic features, completely dismissing
the fact that Tom was standing right there, much to the young Dark-Lord-to-Be
irritation.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, and thank you for your kind words." There was a pause
as if the host was unsure as to who his guest was before it was replaced with
false confidence that Tom could transparently see through. Nothing that could
compare to the unbreakable wall that was his adoptive father. Again, Tom would
never admit that he felt his respect for Harry rise. And, as loathe as he would
admit it, thought that if Harry was indeed his biological father, Tom would not
mind it too much.
Harry merely tilted his head to the side, his lips curled upwards with
amusement. "If I had not known better, I would have thought that you, Lord
Malfoy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, appear to be confused as
to whom I am. Clearly, I must be mistaken? A Pureblood Lord such as yourself
would never make such a blunder." There was a glint in those beautiful green
eyes of his, and both Tom and Lord Malfoy were clearly mesmerized.
It took longer for the Lord to look away from Harry's gaze, and the two
Gryffindors could clearly see that Lord Malfoy had trouble swallowing his pride
to admit.
"I am ashamed to admit my fault, however, I am but a man." The Malfoy Lord
smiled apologetically, as if the two guests in front of him were naive enough
to fall for such a façade, and tried to regain his dignity. "You must be Lord
Hadrian Gryffindor." The blonde waited for any sign of being correct, and when
Harry deigned it enough time for him to respond with an affirmative, Lord
Malfoy almost lit up as if Yule had come early, in a subtle way of course. "It
is such an honour to meet one of the four founders' descendants. I have heard
much of your pristine lineage from the previous Malfoy Lords. If I may be so
bold, Lord Gryffindor, has your family finally decided to return back to
England?"
Tom was frankly disgusted by the man's eagerness to please, even if it was hard
to spot. The blonde Lord was as expressionless as he could be, but there was
this certain twitch of body language that only a perceptive person such as
himself could take notice on. Were the Malfoys that much desperate to have
connections to one of the four founding lineages of Hogwarts? If so, why? Was
the name Gryffindor so powerful? Why did nothing he read specify anything of
importance? And what did the blonde mean about returning back to England? So
many questions!
For now, however, he would gladly take advantage of one Abraxas Malfoy in the
future if he were anything like his father. The younger blonde would make a
perfect minio-... he meant friends, forTom.
"I do hope that what you have heard was in the pleasant light. It would be
embarrassing if otherwise. And of course, the honor is all mine. Although Lord
Malfoy, I would be more than pleased if you would keep the word of my
appearance to yourself." Lord Malfoy looked about to protest, but Harry paid it
no mind as he continued. "Today is not the day that I am willing to let the
world know of my presence just yet, but when the day comes, you shall be the
first to know, I can guarantee that."
The way Harry worded it was as if Lord Malfoy was the very most important
person in Harry's eyes, and it seemed to work when Lord Malfoy smirked and
gestured for them (Harry, since Tom was still unnoticed) to walk with him,
leaving the previous question to shimmer into nothing. It was as if the blonde
had forgotten all that he had asked, much to Tom's displeasure - he had wanted
answers as well.
Harry merely nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as if he trusted the
Lord of the Malfoy house to finally let his guard down. When they walked,
Harry's eyes flickered over to Tom, and clearly, he received the message. He
gave a minuscule nod at Harry, and followed silently, hidden away from the
blonde's sight, yet within his adoptive (biological?) father's.
The night continued in that fashion until they were back at their home, with
Tom having memorized everything Harry did - mannerism and all. From that night
onwards, Tom never looked at Harry the same way he did previously. And for
Harry? He would come to regret ever showing Tom how to dance with the
Purebloods this early in the stage.
===============================================================================
 
                                                          Rainbows and Respect,
                                                               GenderlessPerson
Chapter End Notes
     I apologize for the delay. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed this chapter.
     [Edited: 20/12/2015] There were a few holes and mistakes due to me
     rushing. Correctly all.... I think.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!