Work Text:
It had been an emotional class so far. Lots of fear followed by uncontrollable laughter was rather jarring, to be honest. Harry wasn’t quite so used to a class being permitted to be so raucous, but it would obviously be a class that would be remembered, so he supposed it was effective.
Besides, it was well fun!
The whole class had lined up along the length of the room to see what the shapeshifter would turn into, wanting to know what their deepest fear really was. They seemed childish - clowns, spiders, the dark: the sorts of things that hadn’t plagued Harry’s fears since he was far younger. You can’t be scared of clowns if you’ve never seen one, and it’s hard to stay scared of spiders or the dark when those were most of what you were surrounded by for the 10 most crucial years of your life. Harry grew out of them relatively quickly.
Due to that though he was pretty afraid he wasn’t going to be allowed a turn. It was likely a given that though still a child, his fears probably weren’t so small. Having an insane, magical serial killer after you was the sort of thing that would slightly affect how you respond to things. It meant that Professor Lupin would likely assume Lord Voldemort was about to step out of that closet - and not in the fun, gay way. It also meant his friends were probably thinking that his Uncle Vernon was about to attempt to force his way out of the too-thin door. It meant that in all likelihood Draco Malfoy and his cronies were thinking a dementor was about to plague the room with a bone-deep physical and emotional chill.
It meant that no one could really guess just what it was that scared Harry Potter, Wizarding Saviour, most.
When he finally stepped to the front of the line, Ron’s roller skate clad acromantula having retreated to where it could no longer be laughed at in the cupboard, the room filled with apprehension and deafening silence; everyone was rather morbidly excited to gain the knowledge of just what scared the Potter boy most.
Harry took a few calculated breaths to calm himself down - the rest of the room holding theirs in anticipation made him need to take a few more, as they sounded so loud bouncing against the walls and echoing back at him. They helped a lot, so with a clearer mind he drew his wand and nodded to his professor to open the door.
The sound of hands brushing down fabric was heard first, followed by the clack of a well shined leather shoe hitting the polished wood floors. Tom Riddle - not that most would know who that was - stepped out from behind the door and into view, still brushing invisible dust from his school robe.
”Tom?” Harry asked, rather confused. What scared Harry about Tom Riddle? Sure, he knew who Tom grew to be, but if that’s what he was scared of why wouldn’t it be Voldemort?
”Hello again, Harry.” He sounded civil. The whole room was filled with confused glances and whispers. Who was this boy? Why was he what Harry was afraid of? He seemed perfectly normal...
”Why you?” Harry demanded. He felt unexplained fear bubbling up at the base of his throat, filling his mouth with sand.
”Can’t you tell?” He sounded sarcastic. “Why do you think big, scary Tom Riddle is here? I’m a teen Harry. Aged 13. Doesn’t that sound familiar? I grew up unloved - a freak, an outcast. I had powers no one could understand, and I had adults, who were meant to care, try to lock them away and ignore them. They punished me for them. Tell me, doesn’t that ring a bell, Harry?”
The fear took a firmer hold on him the longer Tom spoke - such a patronising tone. The words flooded his mind, wrapping around to constrict both his thoughts and his breath, stealing the one word Harry needed right from his mouth.
”Aren’t we so similar? Tell me we are. We could grow up to be so alike, you and I. Wouldn’t that be delightful? Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World - how do you think people would take it if you grew to be like me? Just like Lord Voldemort!” Everyone in the room drew a collective breath. If it were any other time, Lupin likely would have drawn his wand and ridden the room of the boggart already, only his confusion and shock and worry locked him in place.
It was the same for Harry. He was locked in place - all except for the tear that stubbornly forced its way out of his eye and down his face. By then the horrible tendrils of anxiety and fear had already curled through him and had him entirely under their control. He tightened his hand around his wand and blinked to rid himself of the tears, but no other movement was made.
”Join me Harry. We’re so similar. We could be one in the same, the perfect pair! We’d be unstoppable! Two of one Dark Lord! Because that’s what you are isn’t it? Dark? A dark little freak hidden away in a dark little cupboard under the stairs, just like me. That’s what turned Voldemort into what Voldemort is. You’re going to grow up to be just like-“
”Riddikulus!“ Harry cried, cutting Tom off. He was instantly purged from the room, replaced by something so contrastingly harmless that it seemed comical. In place of the manipulative Tom Riddle sat instead a white tom cat, with black lines at it’s nose that looked like snake-like slits.
”That idea, Tom Cat, is riddikulus.”
Yet he was still afraid. He didn’t want to be anything like Voldemort, even if he grew up like Tom Riddle.