FICATHON: FIC "The Mountain Comes to Muhammad" by circeniko (Tom, Harry, PG)
Title: The Mountain Comes to Muhammad
Author: circeniko
Prompt Numbers: 31: AU where Voldemort does get the DADA position, either earlier when he asked for it or in the present day (prompt suggested by chases_the_moon)
Characters: Tom, Harry
Rating: PG
Words: ~8,000
Warnings: none
Summary: In 1952 Tom Riddle became the DADA professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seven years later he became its headmaster. Thirty-nine years later he still held that position.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but this particular plot is.
Author's Notes: This was a great prompt, and I had a lot of fun with it. Thank you, chases_the_moon :)
The Mountain Comes to Muhammad
"Ah, do sit down, Harry." The Headmaster gestured Harry to a chair, which he gladly took.
These meetings, more frequent in the last two years, always yielded interesting results. A few months ago Harry had begun learning occlumency and legilimency, personal training sessions with the headmaster that left him feeling agonizingly tired.
"Would you care for tea?"
"Thank you, Headmaster." Harry accepted the cup, holding it at his knees, but not drinking. In the coming lesson he didn't want to be distracted.
The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Harry, we won't be having our lesson today. I have a favor I'd like to ask of you."
Harry's pulse leapt. Perhaps the time had come.
It was an open secret that students that were favored as Harry had been favored were given tasks, sometimes great tasks, but usually not until after Hogwarts.
"Of course, Headmaster, I'll do anything you need me to."
A smile curved around Tom Riddle's lips and he leaned back, crossing his legs. Harry knew that he wasn't a young man, but there were only a few lines on his handsome face, a little gray in his hair. It was well known that he held the ley lines of the wizarding world, though it was only known by a few exactly how tightly they were wound in his grip. He was the sort of man that any student would wish to emulate, certainly he was what Harry wanted to become.
"Harry," Headmaster Riddle began, "you're one of the brightest students that this school has had in years, and more to the point, one of the best Slytherins. And that is why," he continued, "I've chosen you to make our new foreign exchange student feel at home."
Harry had expected something more important. Guiding guests was a chore any third year could undertake. Nonetheless, he gave nothing away in his expression, only nodded and said neutrally, "Certainly, Headmaster."
Riddle must have noted his true reaction, or perhaps he'd simply anticipated it, because he said, "Don't misunderstand, Harry. This task is vitally important to our cause. The Ministry hangs in the balance. Those who oppose us are strong in numbers, though weak in conviction. It is more important than ever to keep the support of the students."
Harry understood. Even before he'd begun attending Hogwarts, Tom had been lecturing him on the necessity of gaining the trust, acceptance, and obedience of his agemates.
Tom continued. "Our new student is a muggleborn."
Harry's lips drew back in an unconcious grimace.
"That in itself would not be a great detriment, you know how necessary muggleborns are."
Harry did. Without muggleborns, the wizarding world's gene pool would dwindle to dangerously low numbers. As well, muggleborns took on a great number of distasteful jobs that pure or halfbloods would otherwise be expected to do.
"However, this child was not only born to muggles, she was raised by them."
Harry was shocked. Muggleborns were removed from their parents as soon as their magic registered on the ministry's wards. It was a necessary precaution to prevent the muggles from gaining knowledge about the wizarding world, knowledge that could be fatal, as the early witch burnings had shown.
"Sir," Harry said, "how is that possible?"
"This girl was taken to France by her parents before her magic manifested. In France she was out of range of Ministry wards." He leaned forward. "You see the problem here, Harry. Hermione Granger will expose Hogwarts students to dangerous ideas. She may very well try to change political values. Even if she doesn't, her very presence, her speech references, will be a contamination, spark interest where it shouldn't exist. I wouldn't accept her here at all, but Board of Governors has chosen to override me."
Tom's eyes were intense. "I need you to keep her from proselytizing, Harry, and more than that, I need you to be a force that counterbalances her." His voice was level. "You're a popular student, and if that isn't enough, then You'll find a way to accomplish your goal."
***
Godric's Hollow wasn't where Harry preferred to spend his weekends, but it was a requirement of the contract between his parents.
The room had been warded; James Potter didn't trust his Slytherin son.
Harry's mouth quirked. It was a wise move, all things considered, but James had underestimated the level of Harry's training. He listened carefully.
It was his godfather, Sirius, who was speaking. Harry's lip curled unconciously. He'd never gotten along with Sirius. He much preferred Bellatrix, Sirius' laughing, devious cousin, who occasionally visited Tom, though she was a good bit older than Sirius, almost old-looking enough to have been a grandmother.
"Think about it, Jamie, think about the children who grow up thinking that they're worthless, being treated like slaves. Wouldn't you do anything to change that?"
"I wouldn't do this. Honestly, Sirius, do you really expect me to--"
"Yes. Two people, James. Two people versus the future of every muggleborn in the next one-hundred years, maybe longer. I'm not the only one who thinks this way, James. He agrees."
"I'm not a Slytherin, Sirius. I'm not going to stain my conscience that way."
"Oh really. Get off your high horse, James. If it were anyone but Malfoy you'd---what was that noise?"
Harry scooted backwards, cursing the reflex that had made him jerk when he'd heard name Malfoy.
His mind raced. Narcissa Malfoy was on Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Lucius Malfoy was a member of the Wizengamot. From the top of his head he could come up with a dozen ways that they could be manipulated to support a bill in favor of muggleborn reform laws, perhaps James could even convince one of them to sponsor it, although the way that Sirius was speaking it sounded as though the convincing might be painful, perhaps even lethal.
He should discuss the possibilities with Tom. He would be able to stop whatever it was that Sirius was planning, thwarting what would doubtless be a disastrous political move for Tom, keeping two of Tom's most important advisors safe and saving the lives of the parents of Draco Malfoy, Harry's ally in Slytherin house, always assuming that it was their lives that were at stake. Moreover, who was the 'he' that Sirius had referred to? It was a pity that Harry hadn't heard any more of their conversation.
There was always the possibility that whatever it was, James wouldn't do it. He certainly didn't want to do it, but his father was almost incapable of refusing Sirius Black.
Harry brooded. He'd never had a good relationship with his father, not since the contract which had split them all apart, but their political differences had always been carefully avoided during their time together, and lately James' unacknowledged and perhaps unconscious flirtation with Narcissa Malfoy had made Harry hope that they could one day be of the same mind.
If James killed Narcissa Malfoy, if he harmed her or blackmailed her, or even if he did something similar to Lucius, then all hope of that would be gone.
Harry bit his lip. He couldn't firecall from Godric's Hollow. The parlour fireplace, the only one in the place, was too public. He'd have to wait until he went back.
***
Harry's intention of going straight to Tom with the news of Sirius' intentions regarding the Malfoys was thwarted by his introduction to Hermione Granger.
She came up to him in the great hall, an ordinary looking girl with more hair than most, a pile of books in her hands and a determined expression on her face.
"Harry Potter?"
"Yes, and you're Hermione Granger, I presume."
"Yes. Headmaster Riddle said that you were to be my guide during my stay here."
That was one way of putting it. "Would you like me to walk you to your next class, Miss Granger?"
"She smiled crookedly. "Thank you, yes, and please call me Hermione."
He turned to walk out and she fell into step beside him.
"What do you think of Hogwarts, Hermione? It must be very different from Beauxbatons."
She had a excited look on her face. "Yes. Seeing the castle from a distance was breathtaking, and I have no doubt that the interior will be as extraordinary as the exterior. I've been reading 'Hogwarts: A History,' and it's remarkable how many great events took place here. Did you know that during the Goblin rebellion no fewer than four factions held the castle at various times? The castle was under constant seige for over twenty years."
Harry had actually learned about that period of history in his first year, when Tom was teaching him about Hogwarts' secrets.
"How interesting. And the people, and classes? I understand that you were immediately sent to classes when you got here. What have you had so far?"
"Dark Arts, Herbology and Ancient Runes." She had a frown on her face. "At Beauxbatons we study defense against dark arts. I didn't realize how great the differences were in our curricula until I experienced a classroom session."
Harry shrugged, raising his voice for the benefit of the curious students watching them. "The dark arts have their uses. They've been misused at times, but it would be foolish to purposely remain ignorant of their uses."
She rounded on him, suddenly fierce in her conviction. "For centuries, Harry--the dark arts have been misused for centuries. Unlawful use of the dark arts outweighs the lawful ten to one. And it's not just individuals who are guilty of the misuse. The Ministry itself has condoned the use of terrible spells and potions. Even the cruciatus was once a legal method of prisoner interrogation."
He smiled faintly. "You make a good point, but we've both got to get to class now. Would you like to discuss it in the library later?"
She breathed deeply, obviously trying to calm down. The subject must be very important to her. It was important to Harry, too, but luckily his Slytherin training, not to mention Tom's private tutelage, had taught him to keep his peace.
"You're right, Harry. This isn't the time to discuss this. Let's just get to class."
He was about to respond when someone passed by on the far side of Hermione, bumping her roughly on the shoulder as he did so. Hermione's pile of books flew from her hands to the floor. They both stopped and Hermione crouched down to collect them. Rounding the corner in front of them Harry could see a familiar blond head.
He silently cursed Draco. Baiting mudbloods was one thing; interrupting Harry's assignment was another. Now he'd put Harry in an awkward position. He dare not help her with her books, he'd lose too much credibility with his supporters, but if he stood by and did nothing she'd break with him, and he'd have no opportunities in the future to speak to her on friendly terms. She was obviously a smart witch who would be a credit to the school if he could convince her to change her political values."
"How rude!" exclaimed Hermione, collecting her books. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice that Harry wasn't down on the floor helping her, though she did hold out a stack in silent expectation that he would take them.
He took them. It was a middle ground. Whatever face he lost here could be easily regained by private explanation to a few key people. He could not, however, let her comment go past unremarked. It wouldn't do to mislead her. Whatever credit he had with her would be worthless if he were not honest.
"Not exactly. What just happened to you isn't uncommon here, Hermione, and it's not considered rude. Didn't you notice that none of your professors paid you much attention?"
She was watching him carefully now, the remaining books on the floor forgotten. "I'd read something about this, but I didn't think that it could actually be true. I thought that the professors were ignoring me because they didn't want to make me feel self-concious."
He shook his head. "No, that's not it. In wizarding Britain muggleborns are the lowest class. They are only accepted for the basest jobs, and as a result the professors mainly ignore their muggleborn students. They prefer to spend their time with the pureblood or halfblood ones, who have a better chance of influencing the future of the wizarding world. It's the same reason why the boy who pushed you will never be punished for his actions, because there's no point in damaging his future just because he mistreated a muggleborn student."
She was on her feet, blazing with anger. "How unjust! I have as much talent as any student here. I could become Minister one day!"
"No, Hermione, you couldn't. It's not a matter of talent; it's a matter of blood. It's illegal for a muggleborn to hold a ministry post; it's one of the two actual legal restrictions on them. The rest is just a matter of custom."
She looked a little lost. "I don't understand, if life here is so horrible for muggleborns, then why don't they just emigrate? France would be happy to have them, and we don't have any such restrictions." She practically spat the last word.
He handed her her books. "That's the other restriction. Muggleborns are not allowed to leave the country. No, don't worry," he hastened to reassure her, "it doesn't apply to you. You're not British. Well," he temporized, "you are, but you have French citizenship, so the British Ministry can't hold you if you decide to leave."
Hermione was obviously still angry, but her logical mind was beginning to work. "This is going to be an interesting trip," she commented dryly. "I may decide to leave early."
"Give it a chance," he urged, "you haven't even been to all of your classes yet."
"No, I suppose I haven't. I have Transfigurations in twenty minutes, can you show me where it is?"
"Sure."
***
That evening Harry had his usual meeting with Headmaster Riddle.
"Well, Harry, what did you think of Hermione Granger?" said Tom, his eyes bright with merriment.
"She's opinionated and irritating," said Harry crossly. After two hours of fruitless arguing after classes he was in no mood for Tom's humor.
"Come now, Harry, tell the truth." and in a more serious tone, "she could be a great asset to us."
Harry reined in his temper and focused his mind. "Yes, she's very smart." His lips curled in his own private smile. "You should have seen her go at it with Ron."
Tom's eyebrows rose. "Go at it?"
"Fight," Harry clarified, "Argue. They're in the same house, you know--pigheaded Griffindors both of them. It's amusing to watch."
Tom was frowning now. "Yes, but it's not a good idea. The point of this exercise was for you to keep her from talking to others."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about Ron," said Harry casually, he's loyal to a fault. A follower. He should have been in Hufflepuff."
"And what if he decides to give his loyalty to someone else?"
"It'll never happen," said Harry, without batting an eye.
Tom studied him hard for a moment. Harry felt an intense pressure on his mind. He relaxed, let it flow around him in warm waves. After a moment Tom leaned back, at ease once more.
"If you think that this is the wisest course, Harry, then by all means, go forward with it. Just remember that whatever results from it is your responsibility."
Harry nodded.
"Now," said Tom, "is there anything else that you'd like to tell me?"
Harry thought for a moment. He should tell Tom about the conversation that he'd overheard at home. But it was such valuable information. Surely there was some way that he could use it to serve his own ends, not just Tom's, assuming that their ends were different....
He blinked. "No sir. I was thinking about something that Hermione told me about Beaxbatons, but I don't think that it's that important right now. I'll let you know if that changes."
Tom smiled warmly. "Of course you will. Have a good night Harry."
Harry got up from his chair and descended down the curving staircase. His head ached fiercely.
***
In the days that followed Harry and Hermione had many conversations. He was succeeding in one respect, she rarely spoke to others, and though there was a ripple of interest in the student population about the interesting muggleborn who was taking up so much of Harry Potter's time, it was a lazy enough ripple that Harry felt there was no cause for concern.
They were coming out of the Dark Arts classroom one day, Harry explaining his theory of the purpose of the inferi curse, though, of course, it was all speculation, as the true origin of the curse was unknown. Hermione did not seem to be listening to him, lost in thought. He stopped speaking and looked at her inquiringly.
"What?" she said.
"You look like you have something on your mind. Care to share?"
She sighed. "It's just--I'm probably being silly, but it's the only explanation that works."
"What explanation?"
"For Professor Lupin's disappearances. Haven't you noticed? Every month, like clockwork, and always on the full moon."
"Well of course," said Harry impatiently, "he is a werewolf, after all."
Hermione gasped and stopped walking, eyes wide. "So it's true," she whispered, "I thought--but how is it possible? Why is he allowed to teach here?"
Harry looked at her, uncomprehending. "Why wouldn't he?"
"Don't you have a department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures?"
"Yes," said Harry slowly, "but they'd be more likely to help him get a job, than to keep him from one. The only thing the department really regulates is the supply of wolfsbane. Every werewolf is given free wolfsbane by the Ministry, and they're required to take it so that they're not a danger to others. There are a few other regulations that affect different magical creatures, but the purpose of the department is to help, not hinder. After all, where would the wizarding world be without goblins? Or vampires for that matter. Without them, we'd still be dealing with the dementors." He shuddered. "Now there's a magical creature that you don't want to mess with."
"But that's not logical," argued Hermione, "How do you discriminate? Why can werewolves and vampires and veela be a part of society but not dementors?"
"It has to do with self-control," said Harry patiently. "With regular supplies of wolfsbane and blood werewolves and vampires can mix freely in society without trouble, but dementors do not have enough self-control to keep from taking souls. If they ever developed that control then we'd accept them. We don't have prejudices against magically powerful creatures."
"You have prejudices against muggleborns," she shot back.
"You're assuming that there are magically powerful muggleborns," he pointed out.
"I am a magically powerful muggleborn, Harry," she hissed.
"Yes, but you're an exception. Think about it, Hermione. Have you ever met another muggleborn as magically powerful as you are?"
She thought for a moment. "No, I haven't, but my experience isn't proof. Furthermore, even if it were true, I fail to see how it justifies the archaic muggleborn laws that you live under. I'm surprised that you're not more upset about this yourself, Harry. I know that your mother is a muggleborn."
"Yes, she is," agreed Harry, "but power coalesces in the second generation. The child of a muggleborn will be more powerful than its parents. The laws only apply to the first generation, and they're there to ensure that the higher ranks remain powerful enough to deal with any problems that come up."
"That can't be all there is to it, though. Why deny muggleborns the right to leave the country unless you're afraid that if you do, your cheap labor supply will leave? It's exploitation, Harry. If I lived here, I would go live with the muggles rather than stay in wizarding Britain as a second class citizen, rather than letting them take advantage of me."
"You could," he acknowledged, "and there are some who do, but anyone who chooses to live in muggle society, be they muggleborn, half, or pureblood, are stripped of their magical identity and obliviated."
Hermione was trembling slightly. "That's horrible," she whispered, "Why would they do that?"
"For security. We can't risk the muggles finding out about us. This system isn't actually archaic, you know. Until fifty years ago we were as dangerous a place to live as any other. Do you know what muggles did to suspected witches and wizards earlier this century? It's called a lobotomy, cutting the connection between the two parts of the brain."
He shook his head in disgust. "Often enough they mistakenly did it to their own people, but there were victims that belonged to our world as well, mostly muggleborn children. Not many even knew about it until Headmaster Riddle brought it to the attention of the Wizangamot. That was when we started removing muggleborns from their muggle environments, for their own protection, and ours of course."
Hermione had a peculiar look on her face. "You say that Tom Riddle was the one who suggested the changes?"
Harry had to think. "That's not exactly what I said, but it's true enough. Why do you ask?"
She pushed her hair back absently. "No reason. I've just got to do some research. Will I see you in the library later, Harry?"
"No, I'm going home for the weekend."
"To your mother's or father's?"
"I'll be staying with my mother and Severus."
"I'll see you when you return, then."
***
Lily and Severus lived in Hogsmeade, where Severus kept a potions shop. Some of Harry's earliest memories involved standing at Severus' side while the man explained the principle behind evenly chopping shrivelfigs, or how to control how many drops you let fall from your beaker.
Then there was his mother, always writing. Harry's current charms textbook was one of hers, under a suitable pseudonym, of course.
From what Harry understood of Lily and Severus' past, they'd both grown up in a home for wards of the ministry. Severus had been placed there after his birth, when his birth registration papers revealed that his mother had copulated with a muggle. She was obliviated, and he became of a ward of the Ministry.
Harry had often wondered if half-bloods weren't the great weakness of the current system. Granted, there were relatively few of them, but those who were grew up with the muggleborns. Many of them became strong opponents of the muggleborn laws. Not all of them, of course. Some, perhaps out of a feeling of inferiority, took advantage of their blood superiority to endlessly tease their less fortunate companions, and some, like Severus, were simply apolitical.
Severus was an odd duck, one of Tom's most trusted advisors, but the one who arguably cared the least about the topics he was advising on. At least that was the way it appeared.
Tonight they had Tom over for dinner, a not infrequent event. Harry's first memories of Tom were from shortly after he and his mother had moved in with Severus. Tom had come over one evening, and he and Severus argued. Tom looked angry, and then he noticed Harry watching them timidly from his corner of the room, toys forgotten next to him. They hadn't even noticed him when they came in.
Tom's frown melted away, replaced with a sunny smile. He came over to Harry and knelt down, speaking gently to him until he wasn't nervous any more. He would have been completely at ease with Tom were it not for the way Severus frowned and turned away. Even so, he couldn't help liking the man.
Tom visited often, and he would always bring Harry some little trinket, or teach him a new spell.
Harry's mother disappeared when Tom visited, or sat silent. Harry thought that she didn't like Tom, though he wasn't sure why. She should be grateful to him. He was the one whose political influence had removed Harry's father from Azkaban, after all.
Today she instructed the house elves and retired to her office, saying to Harry in passing, "Stop by after dinner, will you Harry? There's something I'd like to talk to you about." She paused and gave him a sharp glance. "Be sure not to come too late. I know how much you enjoy your talks with Headmaster Riddle, but you and I and Severus are going to London tomorrow morning, and I want to get an early start."
Harry watched her walk down the hall, robes flaring as she turned the corner.
In truth, he had lied to Hermione. Only a lie of ommission, but a lie nonetheless. His muggleborn mother was one of the most intelligent and magically powerful people that Harry knew. Until he met Hermione, he'd thought that she was the only one, a happy accident of nature.
Now Hermione's presence added a new twist to his logic.
He shook his head, disengaging his thoughts. It was no good going to dinner with Tom and Severus preoccupied. Severus wouldn't care, too taciturn to interfere with another's thoughts. Tom was another matter.
"Hello, Harry," said Tom from behind him.
Harry turned and offered a polite smile. "Hello, Headmaster. I'm so glad that you came. Severus is waiting in the dining room."
Harry spent a good deal of time with Tom, but most of it was alone, private training sessions at Hogwarts. Dining with Tom and Severus changed the equation. Unlike Harry, Severus had no patience for subtleties, or even for simple politeness. He was blunt to a fault, which Harry knew to be one of the things that Tom valued him the most for, but when they were all together it left Harry, politeness drilled into him by his mother and reinforced in house Slytherin as a powerful tool, feeling useless.
"Sulking again, Severus?" said Tom with a smile as they entered the room.
Severus Prince, the most skilled potions master in Britain, looked up with a scowl on his face. He had black greasy hair with a smattering of gray, deep dark eyes, and a profoundly hooked nose set in a lined face. "Sulking is a pointless activity reserved for those who never work up the courage to do something about their predicament. I am not such a person."
Tom feigned mock disappointment. "Why Severus, I thought that you'd enjoy my little gift."
"Send another one of those detestable birds into my workshop again, and I'll wring it's bloody neck, right before I ring yours," said Severus without emotion.
Humor, rage, and chilling sincerity were almost indistinguishable on Severus' face. Almost, but Harry had known him for thirteen years, and Tom a good deal longer. Both smiled. Severus' sense of humor was difficult to unearth.
Dinner was a light affair; all three relaxed. Tom and Severus sniped about politics and Harry listened politely. Finally Tom sat back with a sigh, letting the house elves clear his place. "Severus, Harry, thank you for your hospitality, though I know that it's a wasted effort on you," he added as an aside to Severus.
Severus just grunted, eyes slitted. Tom turned to go, walked a few steps, and then whirled around, eyes focused on Severus, the veins in his face standing out in effort.
Severus stared back, eyes partially hooded. There was a slight scratching noise as his fingers clenched on the table.
Then suddenly they both relaxed and Tom was smiling again. "Still got it, Severus, but you're not quite as good as I am."
"At least I don't give you a headache," said Severus dryly, going to a cabinet in the corner and removing a potions bottle.
Tom just laughed. "Harry, will you accompany me to the door?"
Harry went. He'd seen Severus and Tom practice legilimency on each other countless times, but he'd never understood its purpose. There was a time and a place for exercising power over one's subordinates, but Severus had been one of Tom's people since he was a student. His Hogwarts days, if Harry's mother were to be believed, had been much like Harry's own, a favorite student of Tom's. Harry wondered if his future relationship with Tom would be anything like Severus' current one were.
Tom stopped at the door, taking his cloak from the house elf and shooing it away. "Harry, I've been very pleased with your progress with the Granger girl. I'd like you to continue with her, but I've also got another task for you, one that shouldn't be too difficult."
"I'm not afraid of a little difficulty," said Harry, fingers twitching.
"Of course not," said Tom, "but this one is right under your nose, so to speak." He cleared his throat. "It's come to my attention that your father may be thinking of resuming his, ah, less than savory activities."
Harry contrived to look startled. He'd never told Tom about the conversation that he'd overheard between his father and Sirius. He should have known that Tom would discover it anyway. He bowed his head, trying to look ashamed to cover his racing thoughts. Tom didn't know that it was the Malfoys who were at stake, and he didn't know about Sirius' collusion, or about the mysterious 'he.' Should he tell what he knew now? Or wait and discover more?
"You know what results his last little action caused," said Tom, "and I'd hate to see them repeated."
Harry looked up, startled. "Sir, you're not--"
Tom raised his hand, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I'll do everything I possibly can to keep your father out of Azkaban, but after a repeated offense not even I could prevent it."
Harry bit his lip. He'd been three years old when James Potter killed Peter Pettigrew, but he could still remember his mother's screams when the aurors came to drag his father away. They'd wanted her too, had come back again and again with their questions and angry accusations. It was only her quick marriage to Severus that had prevented them from manufacturing enough evidence to put her away.
"You can save him, Harry," said Tom, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "They were almost of a height now, though Harry would always be shorter. "I can prevent James from doing anything foolish, but you have to find out what his exact plans are, you have to tell me."
"I will," said Harry. Just not until I know that I can't do it myself. "I go to my father's house next weekend. Do you think that it's too late for me to get the information you need?"
"Possibly," said Tom, "but I doubt it."
Harry watched him, thinking about Sirius' words to James, and then, inexplicably, Tom and Severus' legilimency game. "Sir," he said, as Tom was halfway out the door, "Why did you never have Severus teach me legilimency? Why did you insist on doing it yourself?"
Tom smiled charmingly. "Why Harry, you should be able to figure that out for yourself."
"Because you wanted me to learn from the best," said Harry, but even as he said it he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't true.
***
Lily was bent over the fireplace, speaking to someone with long blond hair when Harry entered the room. She quickly ended her call and straightened, smiling at him with affection.
He smiled back. His mother looked much younger than Severus, despite the difficulties associated with her first marriage. Her red hair was long and vibrant, and her eyes sparkled.
"Sit down, Harry."
He sat, and she sat next to him, folding her hands over her knee. "Harry, I want to know more about your new friend, Hermione."
He thought back over their former conversations. "I think that I've told you everything I know, mother."
"Do you like her?"
He blinked. "Certainly. That is, she's very intelligent and will no doubt prove a worthy aquaintance in the future."
Lily frowned. "You've spent too much time in Slytherin," she muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. What I'm asking you is would you like to spend the summer with her family in France. Your father and Severus and I have discussed it, and we all think that you'd benefit from the experience."
Harry frowned, and said tentatively, "You want me to spend the summer with muggles?"
"Yes," said Lily firmly. "Oh, I know that your views on them are very well developed, but given how dangerous they are to us, a greater source of information about them could prove useful. And I have no doubt that you won't be swayed by the new or unusual, making you the perfect person to take advantage of this opportunity. There may never be another student at Hogwarts who was raised by muggles."
Harry sat back in thought. This was the sort of assignment that he'd been waiting for from Tom. Something challenging and potentially very important. That it was coming from his mother instead was.....not very surprising, actually. Then there was its subject matter. He would technically be breaking the law, consorting with muggles. Tom would disapprove, but then, Severus apparently approved of this, and Severus would never send Harry to do something that Tom disapproved of, would he? But Severus didn't know about Harry's newest assignment. If he went to France there was no way that he could spy on his father.
His father had agreed with Lily and Severus. Harry frowned. "Father wanted me out of the country for the summer?"
"Yes," said Lily, and then, "or rather, he wants you to experience something new and exciting."
It would be exciting. Maybe he could get the information that Tom needed and save his father before the term ended. "I'll think about it," he said to his mother, "and I'll discuss it with Hermione."
***
Hermione was, as usual, in the library, bent over an old book. When she looked up Harry grinned. She had a smudge of dust on her nose.
"What are you doing?"
"Researching." She looked focused and appeared not to have noticed his smile at all.
"Researching what?"
"Tom Riddle."
Immediately Harry became more alert. "What about him?"
"Nevermind," said Hermione. "Come look at this picture of Lucius Malfoy. Doesn't he look old?"
Harry looked. Lucius did look quite old, his hair dry and face wrinkled. His portrait turned away from them with a sneer. Harry didn't understand why Hermione was looking at it. Yes, Draco had old parents, but that was nothing to be ashamed of, and even if it had been, Hermione wasn't the type to gloat over her enemies.
"He looks a bit like Severus did when he visited," continued Hermione.
"What's your point?" asked Harry, a bit rattled. Severus didn't look that old, did he?
"My point is that they're not actually that old, not in years anyway. They're both almost the same age as your parents are, but for some reason, Lucius and Severus and several other important figures in wizarding Britain are aging at an extraordinarily fast rate."
"And what do you think is causing it?" said Harry, trying not to think of Severus getting old.
"I'm not sure," said Hermione, looking shifty, "but Harry, have you noticed that you have a white hair today?" she reached out and plucked a hair from the side of his head.
Harry looked. Yes, it was quite white, bizarre, but it did happen sometimes, didn't it? Hermione was talking again. Harry focused on her voice.
"Did you know about his difficulties getting a job here at Hogwarts?"
"Difficulties?" Harry frowned. "Whose difficulties?"
Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently. "Try to keep up, Harry. Tom Riddle's difficulties getting a job here. The headmaster then, Albus Dumbledore, was reluctant to let him have the post, even though he was well qualified. Probably something to do with their political differences."
"The Dumbledore who defeated Grindelwald?"
"Yes. This isn't common knowledge, but Riddle's posting to the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was actually something that was pushed through by the Board of Governors against Dumbledore's wishes. They spent the next few years butting heads over internal power in the castle and influence over the wizengamot. Riddle tried to get his muggleborn laws passed for four years before he was successful, and that only happened because Dumbledore had disappeared."
"I think I remember reading about that. Didn't he go mad first?"
"He was rumored to have done so, but everything I've read about him says that Dumbledore was always a bit odd, so perhaps there's nothing to it. But Harry, don't you think that it's a little convenient that Dumbledore disappears just before Riddle makes his big push for these new laws?"
"No," said Harry, a bit irritated, "I just think that he saw a chance and took it. He's Slytherin, you know, that's what we do."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not trying to insult you, Harry. Riddle could have just been as clever an opportunist as you say, but there are other facts to consider."
"Such as?"
"Such as the fact that Gellert Grindelwald disappeared only months later."
"What! I thought that he died in Nurmengard."
"He may very well have died," said Hermione grimly, "but it certainly wasn't in Nurmengard. His body was never released to his aunt, nor was it discovered in the ruins of the fortress years later when it was destroyed. Guards claim that he was there one day, and then the next he wasn't."
"He couldn't have escaped," reasoned Harry. "If he had, the Bulgarian government would have been franticly looking for him."
"Exactly," said Hermione, "which implies that they cut a deal and handed him over to someone else."
"Or perhaps just killed him themselves," suggested Harry, "or maybe he really did escape and the Bulgarian cabinet was just too ashamed or scared to let the other wizarding governments know about it."
"No, Harry. Think about his character. This isn't a man who would live quietly. He or Dumbledore. Neither of them would have just disappeared. They have to have died."
"Unless the rumors about them were true. You never know. Perhaps Dumbledore broke Grindelwald out and they went off to live happily ever after."
Hermione sent him a skeptical glance and Harry subsided with a small smile.
"Dumbledore was blocking Riddle politically, and if Grindelwald had ever gotten out, then he would have been a power to rival Riddle's."
"Are you suggesting that he killed them?"
Hermione shrugged. "Killed them or had them killed, there isn't much difference."
Harry frowned. "If Riddle was capable of killing Dumbledore, who defeated Grindelwald, then would he really have to worry about Grindelwald?"
"No, I just think that Riddle's not the type to leave loose ends."
"Even if it's true, which I still think is unlikely, what does it mean now?"
"It means that you're being taught by a murderer, Harry. Do you really want that? You're a Slytherin, think like one. What if you become one of his loose ends?"
***
The thought of Severus aging prematurely preyed on Harry's mind. He was still thinking about it when he climbed the winding stairs to speak to Tom the next day.
Tom gave him tea, as usual. Harry took a sip without thinking about it, and immediately realized his mistake as an intent look came over Tom's face. Harry didn't normally drink Tom's tea.
"What's on your mind, Harry, show me."
Harry could feel the familar pressure against his mind, coaxing now, not really pushing. He reached for something to show Tom, something unrelated to his current worries, and came up with the proposed summer in France. He pushed the conversation with his mother to the forefront of his mind, flooding it with his desire to be an asset to Tom, to collect valuable information.
Tom was frowning. "Harry," he began, "Your mother's intention is noble, but not well-thought-out. Knowledge of our enemies can be obtained without the inconvenience of actually living among them. It might be different if Granger's parents had any real influence within the muggle world, but I believe that their professions have something to do with health. Not the most auspicious place to gather information. More importantly," here he leaned forward, "right now it is much more important that you gather information from your father than from muggles."
"I may be able to get all the information you need this weekend," objected Harry.
"Perhaps," said Tom, "but even if you do find enough to save your father, there will still be information that he has, that you can get for me. Contacts, for example. I have reason to believe that James is not working alone this time."
Contacts. Harry wouldn't mind turning Sirius over to Tom, but--
Severus' gray hair came to Harry's mind again, and the image of Lucius as he'd looked in Hermone's portrait, of Bellatrix, and finally the white hair that Hermione had plucked from his own head. He looked at Tom Riddle, handsome and lively, dark hair silky, skin mostly smooth.
"Does great power lead to long life, Headmaster?" he asked.
Tom looked puzzled by this change of topic. "What?"
"You're almost seventy-five years old, but you look much younger. Is it because you're very powerful?"
Tom appeared to be flattered. "Why yes, Harry, it could be that."
Harry was talking more to himself than to Tom now, making connections in his mind. "But Slytherin didn't live to a great age, and he was very powerful. Merlin looked ancient in his seventies, but you....is it related to the others? Bellatrix Black is almost half your age, but she looks so old, and you've told me that she's powerful."
Tom looked a little unnerved. "Harry," he said, "I think that you're thoughts are leading you down the wrong path."
Harry shook his head. "No, Headmaster, I don't think that they are. Bellatrix, the Malfoys, Severus, the Lestrange brothers. They're all older than they should be, and the only common factor is you. It could be a curse, or a spell someone placed on you. But no, as powerful as you are, you'd notice that, wouldn't you? And it's been going on for years, many, many years. I've seen pictures of Severus as a young man, he looked too old then. You--" he looked at Tom in shock, and breathed out, "It's you, it has to be you.
"How do you do it? Why do you do it? And why do they stay with you? Why would Lucius--" he broke off, thinking of Lucius, who was so devoted to Draco, thinking of Draco, who was always disappointed when he had to stay at Hogwarts over holidays. And then he thought about Severus, and a chill went down his back.
Tom was silent, just watching him with a measuring glance.
"Are you controlling Severus with me?" he demanded, more incredulous than angry. "How do you plan on holding me, now that I know? I don't have any children yet, and knowing what you'd do to them I don't think that I want any."
"Harry, Harry," sighed Tom, looking regretful, how can you think such a thing? Severus has always been devoted to me. It has nothing to do with you. The rest of your speculations are only that, speculations. You should know better than to believe something without solid proof. I've tought you better than this."
"You've taught me to be a Slytherin," Harry shot back, "to look for intentions, to put things together, and I've put his one together. And Headmaster," here he stood, "I've yet to hear you deny it."
"Fine then. I deny it. Is that enough for you, Harry?"
"No," said Harry, turning to leave.
"Where are you going, Harry?"
"To talk to Severus, and maybe my mother."
Without changing expression Tom said, "Imperio."
A wave of pleasant lethargy spread over Harry, but he ignored it almost automatically. "That's not going to work. You've trained me too well, Tom. I'm better at this than you are."
Tom raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You really think so?"
Harry clenched his hand around his wand under his robe. "Maybe not in everything, but in a lot of ways, enough ways, I am. You're not going to be able to control me the way that you've controlled them. Not anymore." He collected his self-control and took the few steps to the door, feeling betrayed, but also euphoric.
He'd only gotten a few steps when there was a whisper behind him, two words.
***
Tom looked down at the body on his carpet and sighed. Such a waste. There'd been so much potential, but in the end Harry had turned out to have too much Gryffindor in him. Gryffindors in Slytherin clothing never did well. Perhaps this time he should try one of each. He turned to the portrait of Phineas on the wall behind him.
"Phineas, fetch me the Malfoy boy, and the youngest Weasely."
Phineas sneered at him, but disappeared from the frame without a word. Tom sighed. Another day. He'd have to be more careful this time. Giving Harry access to that mudblood had been a mistake. He'd have to get rid of the girl somehow, make it look like an accident, a fall off the astronomy tower or something like that. And now he'd have new proteges to train. That always took at least as much energy as they gave him, at least at first. It was a good thing he would have two this time. These two didn't like each other very much. Good, that would keep them from collaborating with each other to discover things that they shouldn't.
At least he still had Severus. Harry had been wrong in that respect. He didn't need a hostage for Severus, because Severus was one of his truly loyal supporters. He'd never, in all the times that Tom had visited his mind, had a disloyal thought. How would Severus take the news of Harry's death? He had affection for the boy, but it was surely outweighed by his loyalty to the cause. It was a shame that Harry had never had the chance to spy on his father. Now he'd have to find someone else to take that job, and there was no one else with as close a connection as Harry. Perhaps Severus, he decided. It would take his mind off his stepson's death. Yes, Severus would be a good spy, if he put his mind to it.
FIN
Author: circeniko
Prompt Numbers: 31: AU where Voldemort does get the DADA position, either earlier when he asked for it or in the present day (prompt suggested by chases_the_moon)
Characters: Tom, Harry
Rating: PG
Words: ~8,000
Warnings: none
Summary: In 1952 Tom Riddle became the DADA professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seven years later he became its headmaster. Thirty-nine years later he still held that position.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but this particular plot is.
Author's Notes: This was a great prompt, and I had a lot of fun with it. Thank you, chases_the_moon :)
The Mountain Comes to Muhammad
"Ah, do sit down, Harry." The Headmaster gestured Harry to a chair, which he gladly took.
These meetings, more frequent in the last two years, always yielded interesting results. A few months ago Harry had begun learning occlumency and legilimency, personal training sessions with the headmaster that left him feeling agonizingly tired.
"Would you care for tea?"
"Thank you, Headmaster." Harry accepted the cup, holding it at his knees, but not drinking. In the coming lesson he didn't want to be distracted.
The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Harry, we won't be having our lesson today. I have a favor I'd like to ask of you."
Harry's pulse leapt. Perhaps the time had come.
It was an open secret that students that were favored as Harry had been favored were given tasks, sometimes great tasks, but usually not until after Hogwarts.
"Of course, Headmaster, I'll do anything you need me to."
A smile curved around Tom Riddle's lips and he leaned back, crossing his legs. Harry knew that he wasn't a young man, but there were only a few lines on his handsome face, a little gray in his hair. It was well known that he held the ley lines of the wizarding world, though it was only known by a few exactly how tightly they were wound in his grip. He was the sort of man that any student would wish to emulate, certainly he was what Harry wanted to become.
"Harry," Headmaster Riddle began, "you're one of the brightest students that this school has had in years, and more to the point, one of the best Slytherins. And that is why," he continued, "I've chosen you to make our new foreign exchange student feel at home."
Harry had expected something more important. Guiding guests was a chore any third year could undertake. Nonetheless, he gave nothing away in his expression, only nodded and said neutrally, "Certainly, Headmaster."
Riddle must have noted his true reaction, or perhaps he'd simply anticipated it, because he said, "Don't misunderstand, Harry. This task is vitally important to our cause. The Ministry hangs in the balance. Those who oppose us are strong in numbers, though weak in conviction. It is more important than ever to keep the support of the students."
Harry understood. Even before he'd begun attending Hogwarts, Tom had been lecturing him on the necessity of gaining the trust, acceptance, and obedience of his agemates.
Tom continued. "Our new student is a muggleborn."
Harry's lips drew back in an unconcious grimace.
"That in itself would not be a great detriment, you know how necessary muggleborns are."
Harry did. Without muggleborns, the wizarding world's gene pool would dwindle to dangerously low numbers. As well, muggleborns took on a great number of distasteful jobs that pure or halfbloods would otherwise be expected to do.
"However, this child was not only born to muggles, she was raised by them."
Harry was shocked. Muggleborns were removed from their parents as soon as their magic registered on the ministry's wards. It was a necessary precaution to prevent the muggles from gaining knowledge about the wizarding world, knowledge that could be fatal, as the early witch burnings had shown.
"Sir," Harry said, "how is that possible?"
"This girl was taken to France by her parents before her magic manifested. In France she was out of range of Ministry wards." He leaned forward. "You see the problem here, Harry. Hermione Granger will expose Hogwarts students to dangerous ideas. She may very well try to change political values. Even if she doesn't, her very presence, her speech references, will be a contamination, spark interest where it shouldn't exist. I wouldn't accept her here at all, but Board of Governors has chosen to override me."
Tom's eyes were intense. "I need you to keep her from proselytizing, Harry, and more than that, I need you to be a force that counterbalances her." His voice was level. "You're a popular student, and if that isn't enough, then You'll find a way to accomplish your goal."
***
Godric's Hollow wasn't where Harry preferred to spend his weekends, but it was a requirement of the contract between his parents.
The room had been warded; James Potter didn't trust his Slytherin son.
Harry's mouth quirked. It was a wise move, all things considered, but James had underestimated the level of Harry's training. He listened carefully.
It was his godfather, Sirius, who was speaking. Harry's lip curled unconciously. He'd never gotten along with Sirius. He much preferred Bellatrix, Sirius' laughing, devious cousin, who occasionally visited Tom, though she was a good bit older than Sirius, almost old-looking enough to have been a grandmother.
"Think about it, Jamie, think about the children who grow up thinking that they're worthless, being treated like slaves. Wouldn't you do anything to change that?"
"I wouldn't do this. Honestly, Sirius, do you really expect me to--"
"Yes. Two people, James. Two people versus the future of every muggleborn in the next one-hundred years, maybe longer. I'm not the only one who thinks this way, James. He agrees."
"I'm not a Slytherin, Sirius. I'm not going to stain my conscience that way."
"Oh really. Get off your high horse, James. If it were anyone but Malfoy you'd---what was that noise?"
Harry scooted backwards, cursing the reflex that had made him jerk when he'd heard name Malfoy.
His mind raced. Narcissa Malfoy was on Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Lucius Malfoy was a member of the Wizengamot. From the top of his head he could come up with a dozen ways that they could be manipulated to support a bill in favor of muggleborn reform laws, perhaps James could even convince one of them to sponsor it, although the way that Sirius was speaking it sounded as though the convincing might be painful, perhaps even lethal.
He should discuss the possibilities with Tom. He would be able to stop whatever it was that Sirius was planning, thwarting what would doubtless be a disastrous political move for Tom, keeping two of Tom's most important advisors safe and saving the lives of the parents of Draco Malfoy, Harry's ally in Slytherin house, always assuming that it was their lives that were at stake. Moreover, who was the 'he' that Sirius had referred to? It was a pity that Harry hadn't heard any more of their conversation.
There was always the possibility that whatever it was, James wouldn't do it. He certainly didn't want to do it, but his father was almost incapable of refusing Sirius Black.
Harry brooded. He'd never had a good relationship with his father, not since the contract which had split them all apart, but their political differences had always been carefully avoided during their time together, and lately James' unacknowledged and perhaps unconscious flirtation with Narcissa Malfoy had made Harry hope that they could one day be of the same mind.
If James killed Narcissa Malfoy, if he harmed her or blackmailed her, or even if he did something similar to Lucius, then all hope of that would be gone.
Harry bit his lip. He couldn't firecall from Godric's Hollow. The parlour fireplace, the only one in the place, was too public. He'd have to wait until he went back.
***
Harry's intention of going straight to Tom with the news of Sirius' intentions regarding the Malfoys was thwarted by his introduction to Hermione Granger.
She came up to him in the great hall, an ordinary looking girl with more hair than most, a pile of books in her hands and a determined expression on her face.
"Harry Potter?"
"Yes, and you're Hermione Granger, I presume."
"Yes. Headmaster Riddle said that you were to be my guide during my stay here."
That was one way of putting it. "Would you like me to walk you to your next class, Miss Granger?"
"She smiled crookedly. "Thank you, yes, and please call me Hermione."
He turned to walk out and she fell into step beside him.
"What do you think of Hogwarts, Hermione? It must be very different from Beauxbatons."
She had a excited look on her face. "Yes. Seeing the castle from a distance was breathtaking, and I have no doubt that the interior will be as extraordinary as the exterior. I've been reading 'Hogwarts: A History,' and it's remarkable how many great events took place here. Did you know that during the Goblin rebellion no fewer than four factions held the castle at various times? The castle was under constant seige for over twenty years."
Harry had actually learned about that period of history in his first year, when Tom was teaching him about Hogwarts' secrets.
"How interesting. And the people, and classes? I understand that you were immediately sent to classes when you got here. What have you had so far?"
"Dark Arts, Herbology and Ancient Runes." She had a frown on her face. "At Beauxbatons we study defense against dark arts. I didn't realize how great the differences were in our curricula until I experienced a classroom session."
Harry shrugged, raising his voice for the benefit of the curious students watching them. "The dark arts have their uses. They've been misused at times, but it would be foolish to purposely remain ignorant of their uses."
She rounded on him, suddenly fierce in her conviction. "For centuries, Harry--the dark arts have been misused for centuries. Unlawful use of the dark arts outweighs the lawful ten to one. And it's not just individuals who are guilty of the misuse. The Ministry itself has condoned the use of terrible spells and potions. Even the cruciatus was once a legal method of prisoner interrogation."
He smiled faintly. "You make a good point, but we've both got to get to class now. Would you like to discuss it in the library later?"
She breathed deeply, obviously trying to calm down. The subject must be very important to her. It was important to Harry, too, but luckily his Slytherin training, not to mention Tom's private tutelage, had taught him to keep his peace.
"You're right, Harry. This isn't the time to discuss this. Let's just get to class."
He was about to respond when someone passed by on the far side of Hermione, bumping her roughly on the shoulder as he did so. Hermione's pile of books flew from her hands to the floor. They both stopped and Hermione crouched down to collect them. Rounding the corner in front of them Harry could see a familiar blond head.
He silently cursed Draco. Baiting mudbloods was one thing; interrupting Harry's assignment was another. Now he'd put Harry in an awkward position. He dare not help her with her books, he'd lose too much credibility with his supporters, but if he stood by and did nothing she'd break with him, and he'd have no opportunities in the future to speak to her on friendly terms. She was obviously a smart witch who would be a credit to the school if he could convince her to change her political values."
"How rude!" exclaimed Hermione, collecting her books. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice that Harry wasn't down on the floor helping her, though she did hold out a stack in silent expectation that he would take them.
He took them. It was a middle ground. Whatever face he lost here could be easily regained by private explanation to a few key people. He could not, however, let her comment go past unremarked. It wouldn't do to mislead her. Whatever credit he had with her would be worthless if he were not honest.
"Not exactly. What just happened to you isn't uncommon here, Hermione, and it's not considered rude. Didn't you notice that none of your professors paid you much attention?"
She was watching him carefully now, the remaining books on the floor forgotten. "I'd read something about this, but I didn't think that it could actually be true. I thought that the professors were ignoring me because they didn't want to make me feel self-concious."
He shook his head. "No, that's not it. In wizarding Britain muggleborns are the lowest class. They are only accepted for the basest jobs, and as a result the professors mainly ignore their muggleborn students. They prefer to spend their time with the pureblood or halfblood ones, who have a better chance of influencing the future of the wizarding world. It's the same reason why the boy who pushed you will never be punished for his actions, because there's no point in damaging his future just because he mistreated a muggleborn student."
She was on her feet, blazing with anger. "How unjust! I have as much talent as any student here. I could become Minister one day!"
"No, Hermione, you couldn't. It's not a matter of talent; it's a matter of blood. It's illegal for a muggleborn to hold a ministry post; it's one of the two actual legal restrictions on them. The rest is just a matter of custom."
She looked a little lost. "I don't understand, if life here is so horrible for muggleborns, then why don't they just emigrate? France would be happy to have them, and we don't have any such restrictions." She practically spat the last word.
He handed her her books. "That's the other restriction. Muggleborns are not allowed to leave the country. No, don't worry," he hastened to reassure her, "it doesn't apply to you. You're not British. Well," he temporized, "you are, but you have French citizenship, so the British Ministry can't hold you if you decide to leave."
Hermione was obviously still angry, but her logical mind was beginning to work. "This is going to be an interesting trip," she commented dryly. "I may decide to leave early."
"Give it a chance," he urged, "you haven't even been to all of your classes yet."
"No, I suppose I haven't. I have Transfigurations in twenty minutes, can you show me where it is?"
"Sure."
***
That evening Harry had his usual meeting with Headmaster Riddle.
"Well, Harry, what did you think of Hermione Granger?" said Tom, his eyes bright with merriment.
"She's opinionated and irritating," said Harry crossly. After two hours of fruitless arguing after classes he was in no mood for Tom's humor.
"Come now, Harry, tell the truth." and in a more serious tone, "she could be a great asset to us."
Harry reined in his temper and focused his mind. "Yes, she's very smart." His lips curled in his own private smile. "You should have seen her go at it with Ron."
Tom's eyebrows rose. "Go at it?"
"Fight," Harry clarified, "Argue. They're in the same house, you know--pigheaded Griffindors both of them. It's amusing to watch."
Tom was frowning now. "Yes, but it's not a good idea. The point of this exercise was for you to keep her from talking to others."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about Ron," said Harry casually, he's loyal to a fault. A follower. He should have been in Hufflepuff."
"And what if he decides to give his loyalty to someone else?"
"It'll never happen," said Harry, without batting an eye.
Tom studied him hard for a moment. Harry felt an intense pressure on his mind. He relaxed, let it flow around him in warm waves. After a moment Tom leaned back, at ease once more.
"If you think that this is the wisest course, Harry, then by all means, go forward with it. Just remember that whatever results from it is your responsibility."
Harry nodded.
"Now," said Tom, "is there anything else that you'd like to tell me?"
Harry thought for a moment. He should tell Tom about the conversation that he'd overheard at home. But it was such valuable information. Surely there was some way that he could use it to serve his own ends, not just Tom's, assuming that their ends were different....
He blinked. "No sir. I was thinking about something that Hermione told me about Beaxbatons, but I don't think that it's that important right now. I'll let you know if that changes."
Tom smiled warmly. "Of course you will. Have a good night Harry."
Harry got up from his chair and descended down the curving staircase. His head ached fiercely.
***
In the days that followed Harry and Hermione had many conversations. He was succeeding in one respect, she rarely spoke to others, and though there was a ripple of interest in the student population about the interesting muggleborn who was taking up so much of Harry Potter's time, it was a lazy enough ripple that Harry felt there was no cause for concern.
They were coming out of the Dark Arts classroom one day, Harry explaining his theory of the purpose of the inferi curse, though, of course, it was all speculation, as the true origin of the curse was unknown. Hermione did not seem to be listening to him, lost in thought. He stopped speaking and looked at her inquiringly.
"What?" she said.
"You look like you have something on your mind. Care to share?"
She sighed. "It's just--I'm probably being silly, but it's the only explanation that works."
"What explanation?"
"For Professor Lupin's disappearances. Haven't you noticed? Every month, like clockwork, and always on the full moon."
"Well of course," said Harry impatiently, "he is a werewolf, after all."
Hermione gasped and stopped walking, eyes wide. "So it's true," she whispered, "I thought--but how is it possible? Why is he allowed to teach here?"
Harry looked at her, uncomprehending. "Why wouldn't he?"
"Don't you have a department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures?"
"Yes," said Harry slowly, "but they'd be more likely to help him get a job, than to keep him from one. The only thing the department really regulates is the supply of wolfsbane. Every werewolf is given free wolfsbane by the Ministry, and they're required to take it so that they're not a danger to others. There are a few other regulations that affect different magical creatures, but the purpose of the department is to help, not hinder. After all, where would the wizarding world be without goblins? Or vampires for that matter. Without them, we'd still be dealing with the dementors." He shuddered. "Now there's a magical creature that you don't want to mess with."
"But that's not logical," argued Hermione, "How do you discriminate? Why can werewolves and vampires and veela be a part of society but not dementors?"
"It has to do with self-control," said Harry patiently. "With regular supplies of wolfsbane and blood werewolves and vampires can mix freely in society without trouble, but dementors do not have enough self-control to keep from taking souls. If they ever developed that control then we'd accept them. We don't have prejudices against magically powerful creatures."
"You have prejudices against muggleborns," she shot back.
"You're assuming that there are magically powerful muggleborns," he pointed out.
"I am a magically powerful muggleborn, Harry," she hissed.
"Yes, but you're an exception. Think about it, Hermione. Have you ever met another muggleborn as magically powerful as you are?"
She thought for a moment. "No, I haven't, but my experience isn't proof. Furthermore, even if it were true, I fail to see how it justifies the archaic muggleborn laws that you live under. I'm surprised that you're not more upset about this yourself, Harry. I know that your mother is a muggleborn."
"Yes, she is," agreed Harry, "but power coalesces in the second generation. The child of a muggleborn will be more powerful than its parents. The laws only apply to the first generation, and they're there to ensure that the higher ranks remain powerful enough to deal with any problems that come up."
"That can't be all there is to it, though. Why deny muggleborns the right to leave the country unless you're afraid that if you do, your cheap labor supply will leave? It's exploitation, Harry. If I lived here, I would go live with the muggles rather than stay in wizarding Britain as a second class citizen, rather than letting them take advantage of me."
"You could," he acknowledged, "and there are some who do, but anyone who chooses to live in muggle society, be they muggleborn, half, or pureblood, are stripped of their magical identity and obliviated."
Hermione was trembling slightly. "That's horrible," she whispered, "Why would they do that?"
"For security. We can't risk the muggles finding out about us. This system isn't actually archaic, you know. Until fifty years ago we were as dangerous a place to live as any other. Do you know what muggles did to suspected witches and wizards earlier this century? It's called a lobotomy, cutting the connection between the two parts of the brain."
He shook his head in disgust. "Often enough they mistakenly did it to their own people, but there were victims that belonged to our world as well, mostly muggleborn children. Not many even knew about it until Headmaster Riddle brought it to the attention of the Wizangamot. That was when we started removing muggleborns from their muggle environments, for their own protection, and ours of course."
Hermione had a peculiar look on her face. "You say that Tom Riddle was the one who suggested the changes?"
Harry had to think. "That's not exactly what I said, but it's true enough. Why do you ask?"
She pushed her hair back absently. "No reason. I've just got to do some research. Will I see you in the library later, Harry?"
"No, I'm going home for the weekend."
"To your mother's or father's?"
"I'll be staying with my mother and Severus."
"I'll see you when you return, then."
***
Lily and Severus lived in Hogsmeade, where Severus kept a potions shop. Some of Harry's earliest memories involved standing at Severus' side while the man explained the principle behind evenly chopping shrivelfigs, or how to control how many drops you let fall from your beaker.
Then there was his mother, always writing. Harry's current charms textbook was one of hers, under a suitable pseudonym, of course.
From what Harry understood of Lily and Severus' past, they'd both grown up in a home for wards of the ministry. Severus had been placed there after his birth, when his birth registration papers revealed that his mother had copulated with a muggle. She was obliviated, and he became of a ward of the Ministry.
Harry had often wondered if half-bloods weren't the great weakness of the current system. Granted, there were relatively few of them, but those who were grew up with the muggleborns. Many of them became strong opponents of the muggleborn laws. Not all of them, of course. Some, perhaps out of a feeling of inferiority, took advantage of their blood superiority to endlessly tease their less fortunate companions, and some, like Severus, were simply apolitical.
Severus was an odd duck, one of Tom's most trusted advisors, but the one who arguably cared the least about the topics he was advising on. At least that was the way it appeared.
Tonight they had Tom over for dinner, a not infrequent event. Harry's first memories of Tom were from shortly after he and his mother had moved in with Severus. Tom had come over one evening, and he and Severus argued. Tom looked angry, and then he noticed Harry watching them timidly from his corner of the room, toys forgotten next to him. They hadn't even noticed him when they came in.
Tom's frown melted away, replaced with a sunny smile. He came over to Harry and knelt down, speaking gently to him until he wasn't nervous any more. He would have been completely at ease with Tom were it not for the way Severus frowned and turned away. Even so, he couldn't help liking the man.
Tom visited often, and he would always bring Harry some little trinket, or teach him a new spell.
Harry's mother disappeared when Tom visited, or sat silent. Harry thought that she didn't like Tom, though he wasn't sure why. She should be grateful to him. He was the one whose political influence had removed Harry's father from Azkaban, after all.
Today she instructed the house elves and retired to her office, saying to Harry in passing, "Stop by after dinner, will you Harry? There's something I'd like to talk to you about." She paused and gave him a sharp glance. "Be sure not to come too late. I know how much you enjoy your talks with Headmaster Riddle, but you and I and Severus are going to London tomorrow morning, and I want to get an early start."
Harry watched her walk down the hall, robes flaring as she turned the corner.
In truth, he had lied to Hermione. Only a lie of ommission, but a lie nonetheless. His muggleborn mother was one of the most intelligent and magically powerful people that Harry knew. Until he met Hermione, he'd thought that she was the only one, a happy accident of nature.
Now Hermione's presence added a new twist to his logic.
He shook his head, disengaging his thoughts. It was no good going to dinner with Tom and Severus preoccupied. Severus wouldn't care, too taciturn to interfere with another's thoughts. Tom was another matter.
"Hello, Harry," said Tom from behind him.
Harry turned and offered a polite smile. "Hello, Headmaster. I'm so glad that you came. Severus is waiting in the dining room."
Harry spent a good deal of time with Tom, but most of it was alone, private training sessions at Hogwarts. Dining with Tom and Severus changed the equation. Unlike Harry, Severus had no patience for subtleties, or even for simple politeness. He was blunt to a fault, which Harry knew to be one of the things that Tom valued him the most for, but when they were all together it left Harry, politeness drilled into him by his mother and reinforced in house Slytherin as a powerful tool, feeling useless.
"Sulking again, Severus?" said Tom with a smile as they entered the room.
Severus Prince, the most skilled potions master in Britain, looked up with a scowl on his face. He had black greasy hair with a smattering of gray, deep dark eyes, and a profoundly hooked nose set in a lined face. "Sulking is a pointless activity reserved for those who never work up the courage to do something about their predicament. I am not such a person."
Tom feigned mock disappointment. "Why Severus, I thought that you'd enjoy my little gift."
"Send another one of those detestable birds into my workshop again, and I'll wring it's bloody neck, right before I ring yours," said Severus without emotion.
Humor, rage, and chilling sincerity were almost indistinguishable on Severus' face. Almost, but Harry had known him for thirteen years, and Tom a good deal longer. Both smiled. Severus' sense of humor was difficult to unearth.
Dinner was a light affair; all three relaxed. Tom and Severus sniped about politics and Harry listened politely. Finally Tom sat back with a sigh, letting the house elves clear his place. "Severus, Harry, thank you for your hospitality, though I know that it's a wasted effort on you," he added as an aside to Severus.
Severus just grunted, eyes slitted. Tom turned to go, walked a few steps, and then whirled around, eyes focused on Severus, the veins in his face standing out in effort.
Severus stared back, eyes partially hooded. There was a slight scratching noise as his fingers clenched on the table.
Then suddenly they both relaxed and Tom was smiling again. "Still got it, Severus, but you're not quite as good as I am."
"At least I don't give you a headache," said Severus dryly, going to a cabinet in the corner and removing a potions bottle.
Tom just laughed. "Harry, will you accompany me to the door?"
Harry went. He'd seen Severus and Tom practice legilimency on each other countless times, but he'd never understood its purpose. There was a time and a place for exercising power over one's subordinates, but Severus had been one of Tom's people since he was a student. His Hogwarts days, if Harry's mother were to be believed, had been much like Harry's own, a favorite student of Tom's. Harry wondered if his future relationship with Tom would be anything like Severus' current one were.
Tom stopped at the door, taking his cloak from the house elf and shooing it away. "Harry, I've been very pleased with your progress with the Granger girl. I'd like you to continue with her, but I've also got another task for you, one that shouldn't be too difficult."
"I'm not afraid of a little difficulty," said Harry, fingers twitching.
"Of course not," said Tom, "but this one is right under your nose, so to speak." He cleared his throat. "It's come to my attention that your father may be thinking of resuming his, ah, less than savory activities."
Harry contrived to look startled. He'd never told Tom about the conversation that he'd overheard between his father and Sirius. He should have known that Tom would discover it anyway. He bowed his head, trying to look ashamed to cover his racing thoughts. Tom didn't know that it was the Malfoys who were at stake, and he didn't know about Sirius' collusion, or about the mysterious 'he.' Should he tell what he knew now? Or wait and discover more?
"You know what results his last little action caused," said Tom, "and I'd hate to see them repeated."
Harry looked up, startled. "Sir, you're not--"
Tom raised his hand, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I'll do everything I possibly can to keep your father out of Azkaban, but after a repeated offense not even I could prevent it."
Harry bit his lip. He'd been three years old when James Potter killed Peter Pettigrew, but he could still remember his mother's screams when the aurors came to drag his father away. They'd wanted her too, had come back again and again with their questions and angry accusations. It was only her quick marriage to Severus that had prevented them from manufacturing enough evidence to put her away.
"You can save him, Harry," said Tom, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "They were almost of a height now, though Harry would always be shorter. "I can prevent James from doing anything foolish, but you have to find out what his exact plans are, you have to tell me."
"I will," said Harry. Just not until I know that I can't do it myself. "I go to my father's house next weekend. Do you think that it's too late for me to get the information you need?"
"Possibly," said Tom, "but I doubt it."
Harry watched him, thinking about Sirius' words to James, and then, inexplicably, Tom and Severus' legilimency game. "Sir," he said, as Tom was halfway out the door, "Why did you never have Severus teach me legilimency? Why did you insist on doing it yourself?"
Tom smiled charmingly. "Why Harry, you should be able to figure that out for yourself."
"Because you wanted me to learn from the best," said Harry, but even as he said it he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't true.
***
Lily was bent over the fireplace, speaking to someone with long blond hair when Harry entered the room. She quickly ended her call and straightened, smiling at him with affection.
He smiled back. His mother looked much younger than Severus, despite the difficulties associated with her first marriage. Her red hair was long and vibrant, and her eyes sparkled.
"Sit down, Harry."
He sat, and she sat next to him, folding her hands over her knee. "Harry, I want to know more about your new friend, Hermione."
He thought back over their former conversations. "I think that I've told you everything I know, mother."
"Do you like her?"
He blinked. "Certainly. That is, she's very intelligent and will no doubt prove a worthy aquaintance in the future."
Lily frowned. "You've spent too much time in Slytherin," she muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. What I'm asking you is would you like to spend the summer with her family in France. Your father and Severus and I have discussed it, and we all think that you'd benefit from the experience."
Harry frowned, and said tentatively, "You want me to spend the summer with muggles?"
"Yes," said Lily firmly. "Oh, I know that your views on them are very well developed, but given how dangerous they are to us, a greater source of information about them could prove useful. And I have no doubt that you won't be swayed by the new or unusual, making you the perfect person to take advantage of this opportunity. There may never be another student at Hogwarts who was raised by muggles."
Harry sat back in thought. This was the sort of assignment that he'd been waiting for from Tom. Something challenging and potentially very important. That it was coming from his mother instead was.....not very surprising, actually. Then there was its subject matter. He would technically be breaking the law, consorting with muggles. Tom would disapprove, but then, Severus apparently approved of this, and Severus would never send Harry to do something that Tom disapproved of, would he? But Severus didn't know about Harry's newest assignment. If he went to France there was no way that he could spy on his father.
His father had agreed with Lily and Severus. Harry frowned. "Father wanted me out of the country for the summer?"
"Yes," said Lily, and then, "or rather, he wants you to experience something new and exciting."
It would be exciting. Maybe he could get the information that Tom needed and save his father before the term ended. "I'll think about it," he said to his mother, "and I'll discuss it with Hermione."
***
Hermione was, as usual, in the library, bent over an old book. When she looked up Harry grinned. She had a smudge of dust on her nose.
"What are you doing?"
"Researching." She looked focused and appeared not to have noticed his smile at all.
"Researching what?"
"Tom Riddle."
Immediately Harry became more alert. "What about him?"
"Nevermind," said Hermione. "Come look at this picture of Lucius Malfoy. Doesn't he look old?"
Harry looked. Lucius did look quite old, his hair dry and face wrinkled. His portrait turned away from them with a sneer. Harry didn't understand why Hermione was looking at it. Yes, Draco had old parents, but that was nothing to be ashamed of, and even if it had been, Hermione wasn't the type to gloat over her enemies.
"He looks a bit like Severus did when he visited," continued Hermione.
"What's your point?" asked Harry, a bit rattled. Severus didn't look that old, did he?
"My point is that they're not actually that old, not in years anyway. They're both almost the same age as your parents are, but for some reason, Lucius and Severus and several other important figures in wizarding Britain are aging at an extraordinarily fast rate."
"And what do you think is causing it?" said Harry, trying not to think of Severus getting old.
"I'm not sure," said Hermione, looking shifty, "but Harry, have you noticed that you have a white hair today?" she reached out and plucked a hair from the side of his head.
Harry looked. Yes, it was quite white, bizarre, but it did happen sometimes, didn't it? Hermione was talking again. Harry focused on her voice.
"Did you know about his difficulties getting a job here at Hogwarts?"
"Difficulties?" Harry frowned. "Whose difficulties?"
Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently. "Try to keep up, Harry. Tom Riddle's difficulties getting a job here. The headmaster then, Albus Dumbledore, was reluctant to let him have the post, even though he was well qualified. Probably something to do with their political differences."
"The Dumbledore who defeated Grindelwald?"
"Yes. This isn't common knowledge, but Riddle's posting to the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was actually something that was pushed through by the Board of Governors against Dumbledore's wishes. They spent the next few years butting heads over internal power in the castle and influence over the wizengamot. Riddle tried to get his muggleborn laws passed for four years before he was successful, and that only happened because Dumbledore had disappeared."
"I think I remember reading about that. Didn't he go mad first?"
"He was rumored to have done so, but everything I've read about him says that Dumbledore was always a bit odd, so perhaps there's nothing to it. But Harry, don't you think that it's a little convenient that Dumbledore disappears just before Riddle makes his big push for these new laws?"
"No," said Harry, a bit irritated, "I just think that he saw a chance and took it. He's Slytherin, you know, that's what we do."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not trying to insult you, Harry. Riddle could have just been as clever an opportunist as you say, but there are other facts to consider."
"Such as?"
"Such as the fact that Gellert Grindelwald disappeared only months later."
"What! I thought that he died in Nurmengard."
"He may very well have died," said Hermione grimly, "but it certainly wasn't in Nurmengard. His body was never released to his aunt, nor was it discovered in the ruins of the fortress years later when it was destroyed. Guards claim that he was there one day, and then the next he wasn't."
"He couldn't have escaped," reasoned Harry. "If he had, the Bulgarian government would have been franticly looking for him."
"Exactly," said Hermione, "which implies that they cut a deal and handed him over to someone else."
"Or perhaps just killed him themselves," suggested Harry, "or maybe he really did escape and the Bulgarian cabinet was just too ashamed or scared to let the other wizarding governments know about it."
"No, Harry. Think about his character. This isn't a man who would live quietly. He or Dumbledore. Neither of them would have just disappeared. They have to have died."
"Unless the rumors about them were true. You never know. Perhaps Dumbledore broke Grindelwald out and they went off to live happily ever after."
Hermione sent him a skeptical glance and Harry subsided with a small smile.
"Dumbledore was blocking Riddle politically, and if Grindelwald had ever gotten out, then he would have been a power to rival Riddle's."
"Are you suggesting that he killed them?"
Hermione shrugged. "Killed them or had them killed, there isn't much difference."
Harry frowned. "If Riddle was capable of killing Dumbledore, who defeated Grindelwald, then would he really have to worry about Grindelwald?"
"No, I just think that Riddle's not the type to leave loose ends."
"Even if it's true, which I still think is unlikely, what does it mean now?"
"It means that you're being taught by a murderer, Harry. Do you really want that? You're a Slytherin, think like one. What if you become one of his loose ends?"
***
The thought of Severus aging prematurely preyed on Harry's mind. He was still thinking about it when he climbed the winding stairs to speak to Tom the next day.
Tom gave him tea, as usual. Harry took a sip without thinking about it, and immediately realized his mistake as an intent look came over Tom's face. Harry didn't normally drink Tom's tea.
"What's on your mind, Harry, show me."
Harry could feel the familar pressure against his mind, coaxing now, not really pushing. He reached for something to show Tom, something unrelated to his current worries, and came up with the proposed summer in France. He pushed the conversation with his mother to the forefront of his mind, flooding it with his desire to be an asset to Tom, to collect valuable information.
Tom was frowning. "Harry," he began, "Your mother's intention is noble, but not well-thought-out. Knowledge of our enemies can be obtained without the inconvenience of actually living among them. It might be different if Granger's parents had any real influence within the muggle world, but I believe that their professions have something to do with health. Not the most auspicious place to gather information. More importantly," here he leaned forward, "right now it is much more important that you gather information from your father than from muggles."
"I may be able to get all the information you need this weekend," objected Harry.
"Perhaps," said Tom, "but even if you do find enough to save your father, there will still be information that he has, that you can get for me. Contacts, for example. I have reason to believe that James is not working alone this time."
Contacts. Harry wouldn't mind turning Sirius over to Tom, but--
Severus' gray hair came to Harry's mind again, and the image of Lucius as he'd looked in Hermone's portrait, of Bellatrix, and finally the white hair that Hermione had plucked from his own head. He looked at Tom Riddle, handsome and lively, dark hair silky, skin mostly smooth.
"Does great power lead to long life, Headmaster?" he asked.
Tom looked puzzled by this change of topic. "What?"
"You're almost seventy-five years old, but you look much younger. Is it because you're very powerful?"
Tom appeared to be flattered. "Why yes, Harry, it could be that."
Harry was talking more to himself than to Tom now, making connections in his mind. "But Slytherin didn't live to a great age, and he was very powerful. Merlin looked ancient in his seventies, but you....is it related to the others? Bellatrix Black is almost half your age, but she looks so old, and you've told me that she's powerful."
Tom looked a little unnerved. "Harry," he said, "I think that you're thoughts are leading you down the wrong path."
Harry shook his head. "No, Headmaster, I don't think that they are. Bellatrix, the Malfoys, Severus, the Lestrange brothers. They're all older than they should be, and the only common factor is you. It could be a curse, or a spell someone placed on you. But no, as powerful as you are, you'd notice that, wouldn't you? And it's been going on for years, many, many years. I've seen pictures of Severus as a young man, he looked too old then. You--" he looked at Tom in shock, and breathed out, "It's you, it has to be you.
"How do you do it? Why do you do it? And why do they stay with you? Why would Lucius--" he broke off, thinking of Lucius, who was so devoted to Draco, thinking of Draco, who was always disappointed when he had to stay at Hogwarts over holidays. And then he thought about Severus, and a chill went down his back.
Tom was silent, just watching him with a measuring glance.
"Are you controlling Severus with me?" he demanded, more incredulous than angry. "How do you plan on holding me, now that I know? I don't have any children yet, and knowing what you'd do to them I don't think that I want any."
"Harry, Harry," sighed Tom, looking regretful, how can you think such a thing? Severus has always been devoted to me. It has nothing to do with you. The rest of your speculations are only that, speculations. You should know better than to believe something without solid proof. I've tought you better than this."
"You've taught me to be a Slytherin," Harry shot back, "to look for intentions, to put things together, and I've put his one together. And Headmaster," here he stood, "I've yet to hear you deny it."
"Fine then. I deny it. Is that enough for you, Harry?"
"No," said Harry, turning to leave.
"Where are you going, Harry?"
"To talk to Severus, and maybe my mother."
Without changing expression Tom said, "Imperio."
A wave of pleasant lethargy spread over Harry, but he ignored it almost automatically. "That's not going to work. You've trained me too well, Tom. I'm better at this than you are."
Tom raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You really think so?"
Harry clenched his hand around his wand under his robe. "Maybe not in everything, but in a lot of ways, enough ways, I am. You're not going to be able to control me the way that you've controlled them. Not anymore." He collected his self-control and took the few steps to the door, feeling betrayed, but also euphoric.
He'd only gotten a few steps when there was a whisper behind him, two words.
***
Tom looked down at the body on his carpet and sighed. Such a waste. There'd been so much potential, but in the end Harry had turned out to have too much Gryffindor in him. Gryffindors in Slytherin clothing never did well. Perhaps this time he should try one of each. He turned to the portrait of Phineas on the wall behind him.
"Phineas, fetch me the Malfoy boy, and the youngest Weasely."
Phineas sneered at him, but disappeared from the frame without a word. Tom sighed. Another day. He'd have to be more careful this time. Giving Harry access to that mudblood had been a mistake. He'd have to get rid of the girl somehow, make it look like an accident, a fall off the astronomy tower or something like that. And now he'd have new proteges to train. That always took at least as much energy as they gave him, at least at first. It was a good thing he would have two this time. These two didn't like each other very much. Good, that would keep them from collaborating with each other to discover things that they shouldn't.
At least he still had Severus. Harry had been wrong in that respect. He didn't need a hostage for Severus, because Severus was one of his truly loyal supporters. He'd never, in all the times that Tom had visited his mind, had a disloyal thought. How would Severus take the news of Harry's death? He had affection for the boy, but it was surely outweighed by his loyalty to the cause. It was a shame that Harry had never had the chance to spy on his father. Now he'd have to find someone else to take that job, and there was no one else with as close a connection as Harry. Perhaps Severus, he decided. It would take his mind off his stepson's death. Yes, Severus would be a good spy, if he put his mind to it.
FIN