Chapter Text
Tom had never had any reason to see the inside of Gryffindor tower before today and his first thought upon entering was that the ostentatious and overabundant amount of red and gold was even gaudier than Dumbledore's eccentrically decorated office. Tom had sucked up what was left of his tattered pride and had asked Dumbledore if he could use the Slytherin dorms, but no, he had to stay within the House of his King to show loyalty.
Needless to say, Tom Riddle was not happy.
The fifth year was ready to sleep. Getting a body and going through an ancient magical bonding ritual was bad enough without dealing with Dumbledore and the little monster at the same time. Speaking of said little monster, the twelve year old was currently slinking through the common room in front of him, heading towards the largest most plushiest obnoxious chair in the room, closest to the fire and which looks over the entire common room. Tom idly noticed how even students older than him parted way for the boy as he moved. And as the brat plops most ungraciously onto the puffy red monstrosity and actually lounges on it with one leg over a side and a long drawn out dramatic sigh, Tom clearly sees that Gryffindor was the brat's territory.
Even without being King, it was obvious the tiny second year was the head of the Pride.
It was both oddly astounding and slightly terrifying.
Of course, Tom wasn't scared of him. Not at all.
As Tom was busy musing on Harry, other Gryffindors were studying him and Harry in equal measure. A slightly pudgy second year boy moved over to hover near the young boy and clears his throat as he glances warily at the sword dangling precariously on Harry's lap.
"Ah, Harry?"
The boy doesn't even open his eyes from where it's leaning on one of the armrests.
"Hm, Nev?"
Tom watched as the dirty blonde haired boy smiled at Harry easily despite the odd circumstance.
"What's with the sword?"
Harry opens one eye and lazily half-lifts his head and scans the boy's profile before lying back down and closing his eye once more.
"It's Godric Gryffindor's sword."
The pudgy boy's brown eyes widen before his smile turned into a grin.
"So you're the King of Gryffindor, now, Harry?"
At this, most of the Gryffindors quickly look over and focus on the new monarch in surprise and interest. Even Harry seems surprised as he finally half-sits up and asking the other boy curiously, "You know about this King stuff Neville?"
The boy, Neville, seems excited and nods quickly, replying, "Basic pureblood history lesson, Harry," and a pause before adding, "And Queen Hedwig of Gryffindor was a Longbottom so of course it was in my heir lessons too."
Harry's eyebrows raise in surprise before nodding in understanding. A redheaded boy who despite his tallness looked the same age as Harry came up to the chair as well.
"You're really King, mate? That's bloody amazing!"
Harry just hummed noncommittally which seemed to dull the boy's enthusiasm.
"Hey where's Hermione?"
The boy's blue eyes widened before murmuring awkwardly, "She's still in the infirmary petrified, Harry."
At Harry's quiet and disappointed, "Oh," the boy becomes slightly panicked. Looking around the common room for seemingly something else to say, his eyes fell upon Tom and immediately lit up.
"So why'd the slimy snake follow you into the common room?"
Tom immediately feels offended and scowls but Harry seems to brighten up at the comment.
"Oh, that's Tom," he chirps, looking over at the Slytherin and beckoning him over with a hand, "Come over here, Tom."
The near order rankles but it's better not to start a fight with the brat right now in his own territory. The quicker he can get this over with, the sooner he can head to bed.
As the fifth year glides over, Harry proclaims for all to hear, looking all the same as a proud parent, "This is Tom Riddle."
The redheaded boy blinks dumbly before asking, "Like the diary?"
The green eyed little monster grins.
"Exactly like the diary," he nods before continuing proudly (and loudly), "And he's my Knight."
The common room once again silences at the announcement. While it had quietened upon their entrance, there had still been ambient noise and hushed chattering in the background, but now it was deadly silent. Tom finds the silence highly unnerving. Gryffindors can't have changed that much in fifty years.
Before the silence can prolong, identical redheads appear leaning on both armrests, blue eyes shining madly.
"Oh?" they coo simultaneously.
"Little Harry is now-" "A little kingy-" "With a tall dark Slytherin-" "As his brave and courageous Knight?"
Tom idly wonders if the twins have telepathy before his nose twists in distaste at his description. Brave and courageous indeed.
Harry just grins up at the twins. The twins were the first two wizards who had stopped to properly talk to him back before the train ride in first year. Ever since, the two have taken initiative to act as mentors to the younger boy and he has always appreciated it. Neville was his go to for Pureblood knowledge, Hermione for obscure info and muggle subjects, but the twins were the ones who helped him with general wizarding knowledge he was never privy to growing up on Privet Drive.
It also helps that Fred and George appreciate his humor. And that he was the one of the only people in existence that could tell the two apart (he wasn't ever going to mention to them that it was only because their magic was different-- Fred's a bouncy, up-beat tempo while George's has more of a languid sway).
Fred leans in close, nose almost touching one of Harry's curls.
"Well, then I think it only appropriate-"
Here, George's arm sneaks around Harry's waist and tugs him to his side of the chair.
"That we do hereby swear our allegiance-"
They both move in front of the chair to kneel, looking up at Harry with blue eyes twinkling maniacally (did they learn that from Professor Dumbledore?).
"To our glorious-" "Amazing-" "Magical-" "Beautiful-" "Heroic-" "Gallant-" "Completely impossible-" "And wicked prankster!"
The two bowed from their kneeling position before simultaneously declaring, "KING!"
Harry feels the resulting swirl of their magic as it reaches for his at their declaration that proves the claim was actually magically binding and can't help the rush of affection he feels at their sworn loyalty.
"Your Majesty," Fred beamed up at him only to be elbowed by George who countered, "My liege."
Fred glared at George. George glared back.
"Your highness." "Your magnificence." "Your excellency." "Your wickedness." "Your royallness." "Your awesomeness."
They kept getting more and more vicious with each ridiculous name before they suddenly grinned malevolently and looked up at him and intoned, "Milord."
Harry couldn't help the mad giggles that left him at that point. Oh, how he dearly loved the twins. The whole common room seemed to relax and warm as the tension from the long day left him with each laugh.
The twin's grins turned into soft smiles and they both sat down at the foot of his chair. Fred leaned against a chair leg, and when Harry's laughter tapered off, he asked, "So what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets?"
Harry looked down at the twins with a smile before turning to Ron. His hands were so thoroughly bandaged he looked like a half-done Mummy and Harry couldn't fight off a smirk.
"Madame Pomfrey got you?"
Ron's face twisted in dismay. Harry only felt amused. Madame Pomfrey was a fine medi-witch, certainly. She just went a little-- Let's say overboard. You have a minor cold? A dose of Pepper-Up and bed rest for three stays straight. A sprain? She has a spell that will fix it quicker than you can sneeze but you still need bed rest for two days. You got a burn in Potions class? She has a rant about Snape, burn paste, and you must stay in the infirmary until the next morning. She tries hard, really, but because of her overreactions most students avoid the Medic Wing like the plague and try to self-medicate as much as they can.
"My hands got a couple scrapes from trying to dig out some of the cave-in," Ron complains before adding as if an afterthought, "Ginny's fine. Mum and Dad were floo called and are staying with her with Madame Pomfrey."
Harry nods, satisfied. Honestly Ginny had been the last thing on his mind for the past couple of hours but it was nice to know all the same that she was okay.
Dean stepped closer to the group near the fire, Transfiguration text still firmly gripped in his hands with pages of parchment with messy scrawl hanging out of it. It reminded Harry that he still had that essay on the theory of matter reconfiguration in small to large transfigurations that was due next Monday. Harry usually relied on Hermione to keep him on a regular schedule with studies. The past month and a half had been hard on his own. Ron was certainly no help.
"Did you really go into the Chamber of Secrets, Harry?" Dean asked, hazel eyes in a dark face shining brightly in excited fervor.
Harry smiles obligingly and waves him and others over. It was apparently story time in Gryffindor common room. This happened after every mini misadventure a Gryffindor went through, unless they tried to desperately hide it, in which case the others' curiosity and nosiness would lead them to uncover the story on their own and then the perpetrators were lightly teased and ridiculed for a few weeks by the rest of the House for keeping secrets. Even though it was specifically called the Chamber of Secrets, Harry wasn't going to go out of his way and disobey Gryffindor tradition to keep what happened quiet.
Besides, they all probably wanted to hear the story of how he became King anyways.
Harry looks up at Tom who looks almost dead on his feet and is standing as awkwardly as he can while still looking regal as far away from Harry's chair as can while still being near it. The twelve year old stares lazily at him, eyes resting on his stiff yet delicate shoulders a slight downturn slant of his mouth. Harry knew what he was going to say would anger the teen but he was going to say it anyway.
"Come and sit, Tom," he commands, patting a puffy armrest on his chair.
Just as he expects, the glare he receives for his words could freeze even Hell, but Tom jerkily (yet still graceful, how was that even possible?) moves toward Harry's self-proclaimed throne and sitting primly where he indicated. One of the greatest things about the whole King-Knight bond is that Tom must obey every order Harry gives as long as it does not go directly against his main purpose of protecting Harry's life. Not that Harry would abuse this perk (much) but the fact that the angry baby Voldemort is now perched on the side of chair, almost simmering in silent rage, is almost too funny to not take advantage of. And at least now he's sitting down without the threat of passing out on his feet with his pride still intact.
Harry looked back over the common room and lightly smiled. A seventh year was sitting on the floor with a tiny first year in their lap. A group of four third year huddled together as they looked eagerly towards him. A few studious upper years remained sitting in front of their textbooks, quills scratching away, but ears turned towards him. Many others lounged on chairs or couches eyes pinned on either him, Tom, or the sword still in his lap, firelight glinting off the steel. Gryffindor really felt like a family at times like this.
"Okay," he began, sucking in a large dramatic breath before letting it rush back out, "You all have heard about the message on the wall, right?"
A round of nods and hums of confirmation was his answer.
"Well, Hermione left us a note with clues on it before she got petrified, so me and Ron went to tell Lockhart we knew where the Chamber was, but the fraud was trying to run away. So we forced him at wandpoint to go into the Chamber with us. It's entrance is actually located in a sink in Moaning Myrtle's abandoned bathroom. But it needs someone who speaks Parseltongue to open it."
A few people cringed at that before focusing back on him, but the majority just continued avidly listening to his tale.
"There's a bit of a slide through the pipes to enter it though, so Ron dropped his wand and Lockhart, the prick grabbed it. He told us that all his books were written of stories of other people's adventures before he erased their memory with, uh," Harry pauses, mind racing to remember the spell the blond haired man threw at him.
Percy pushes up his horn-rimmed glasses before offering, "Obliviate?"
The twelve year old straightens up and beams at the older Weasley before continuing, "Yeah, that's it! So he tells us he's going to obliviate us and tell everyone he found the Chamber of Secrets but Ginny died and the horror of her death made us lose our minds or something. But he only has Ron's wand on him and as you all know, Ron broke it before the first day of classes even started this year. So when he shot the spell at us, the spell exploded backwards and hit him instead, knocking him right into the ceiling and causing a cave in that split me and Ron up."
Some older years were looking grave and decidedly unhappy at the news while the younger years give off appropriately fearful gasps at all the right points.
"Ron tells me to go on and save Ginny and he'd focus on trying to make a path for me to return through. So I go on ahead only to see Ginny alone, passed out on the stone floor of the chamber."
A curious fourth year boy raises his hand before asking, "What did the chamber look like?"
Harry blinked, trying to recall. It wasn't like he was really focused on the chamber at the time. There was a dying first year and a ghostly Tom and Godric Gryffindor's sword. His surroundings just weren't as important in comparison.
"Uh, it was really big. Wet. And there were some statues of giant snakes and what I'm guessing was Slytherin too," he said before looking back at the boy who asked, who seemed satisfied with the answer and nodded for him to continue.
"Anyways, I see this journal I know from before. You guys remember me asking if any of you had seen it right? Yeah, well, apparently Tom here," here, he pats one of Tom's crossed legs, ignoring the glare he got in reply, "Was trapped in the diary and had been trying to suck Ginny's magic out of her to return him to his body."
He decides it's probably better not to mention he was apparently sucking the girl's soul out instead of just her magic, which would have killed her. And he's definitely not going to tell them about being the young version of the Dark Lord. It wouldn't really be fair to Tom for him to have to constantly deal with assassination attempts and hostility for things he hadn't done yet.
"And really I can't blame him for wanting a body after half of a century trapped in a book, but at the same time I knew he could call out the basilisk at any time and I really didn't want to die."
There are some snickers at that around the room along with a general air of confusion from some, which is remedied when Fred asks, "A basilisk?"
"A big, venomous snake with a deadly gaze."
Here, George tilts his to one side before asking, "How big are we talking?"
Harry's eyebrows narrowed in thought. Since he honestly didn't know, not having seen the basilisk, he turns to Tom with a curious, "How big?"
His reply is a deadpanned, "Really big."
The second year just nods, fine with the answer before looking back at the twins at his feet. The two look between him and the Slytherin before staring at each other for a few seconds and decisively nodding. Harry continues with his story.
"Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix came in and dropped the Sorting Hat, which I then pulled Gryffindor's sword from, and voila! I'm the King!"
A few laughs and a few cheers are heard and Harry grins before adding, "And I made Tom my Knight so he could use my magic to get a body instead of draining Ginny and that's about it."
Many teens get up to leave for the dorms and some go back to what they were previously doing in the common room, though a smattering of Gryffindor's stay and move closer to ask more questions. Harry leans over to lean against Tom as he focuses on the people before him, ignoring the stiffening of the fifth year.
Tom himself was surprised at what he had just borne witness to. He never imagined Gryffindor House to be so... Cohesive and homely. Compared to the mind games and political maneuvers he was used to, the comforting atmosphere of Gryffindor was rather discomforting. What was more uncomfortable however was the black haired boy nestled into his side. He did not agree to that. Hell, he did not agree to any of this.
Tom Riddle was tired. So, very, very tired.
He had half-expected the brat to tell the rest of his little friends that he was Lord Voldemort, but he was curiously silent on that front. He was also aware that the boy had left off many others things from his story that was incriminating of Tom himself, which was rather confusing, in and of itself. Was he trying to make Tom indebted to him? It would be rather pointless as Tom already is for his corporeal body, not to mention the fact that little monster already has him on a metaphorical leash.
Oh, there are ways around the bond, make no mistake that Tom hadn't already puzzled out many options if the boy becomes demanding, but for the most part he is stuck with him.
Literally, so it would seem, if the boy's position was anything to go by. They really needed to set some ground rules on that (Tom vehemently ignores the fact that if anyone set rules down on their bond it would be Potter).
Finally, after a good thirty minutes or so of going in and out of a doze while sitting up, Harry decides it's time to head to bed. Tom dogs his steps, attentively taking in his surroundings while still on the verge of sleep. Harry pauses in the doorway of what is apparently his room and quietly whispers to him, "Ah, it seems like the castle added a bed beside mine for you Tom," before going over and sitting down on a certain bed.
Sure enough, there is a bed significantly closer to Harry's than the even spacings between the other beds has. Tom is so tired he barely has it in him to frown in distaste before falling onto the red, red, red of the thick comforter and promptly pass out, the quiet giggling of the little monster the last thing he's aware of.