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It had started out with Tom’s godforsaken obsession with superheroes. Harry had lost count of the sheer number of times he had said no, Tom, superheroes don’t exist, you should know this, we literally have magic.
To which Tom would reply how comes magic isn’t a stretch but genetically mutated superheroes are?
And Harry would sigh and let his head hit the desk.
He’d even recruited Hermione to fight his cause for him, citing evidence and proof and the fact that fictional superheroes were always in the news, but nothing could stop him.
In the end, he took Ron’s advice and signed Tom up for a class on ‘how to do magic with your wand strapped to your arm’, which sounded ridiculous but apparently worked and would hold Tom’s interest for more than five minutes. Tom actually seemed excited to do it, too.
In hindsight, that should’ve made Harry suspicious.
After that, Luna and Ginny were on babysitting Tom duty, and were apparently teaching him how to sew. Either that was code for something else or they had something on Tom, either way, Harry doubted Tom would be obsessing over superheroes.
And then muggle newspapers exploded with news of ‘The Serpent’, a masked supervillain in shades of green with a snake around his neck.
Harry’s thoughts consisted solely of for fuck’s sake, Tom.
Needless to say, Tom became very familiar with the sofa.
Harry was blaming Ginny and Luna for this. At least Ron had only been trying to help.
***
Tom’s life hadn’t been great, but what he had had was superhero comics, and they were good enough to make up for it. Oh, and Harry, his delightful boyfriend. His rat friends (looking at you, Malfoy and Parkinson) were not to be counted amongst the good things in his life.
Actually, scratch that. Weasley (female edition) and Lovegood passed Tom’s internal vibe check solely for the fact that they helped him make a suit.
The suit itself was spandex (necessary to see the shape of his arse, and he knew he could pull it off), and in the deep green that was the colour of Harry’s eyes. Never let it be said that Tom was not the world’s biggest simp (and Malfoy the world’s biggest kiss-arse). The suit has snake scales all along it and gleamed slightly in the light, and the mask was a skull. Suitably dramatic for one Tom Riddle.
Having his wand strapped to his wrist meant that he could safely be a supervillain without revealing magic to the muggles, providing he kept to a close strategy. Which meant only nonverbal spells, and none that were obviously spells.
The black smoke flying spell he had under his belt would be helpful, too.
So, Tom dressed up in his shiny new suit, strapped his wand to his wrist, put his mask on, and flew out above London.
“‘Tis I,” Tom yelled, amplifying his voice with a Sonorus, “The great and almighty- uh- Lord Voldemort, the Serpent, your resident supervillain.”
Lord Voldemort? What kind of stupid name—
No superheroes appeared.
“And I am here to kill you all and terrorise your city!”
There was a thud, and someone in neon yellow spandex climbed onto a roof.
“Normally supervillains are quieter than this!” she yelled.
“It’s generally considered polite to introduce yourself,” Tom replied.
“I’m the Grappler, resident superhero.”
And with that, Grappler proceeded to fire a large steel hook onto Tom’s ankle and haul herself up.
“What the fuck?”
“My superpower is having no bones, I’m super light.”
“Why?”
“Well, you see, there was a guy with a syringe of suspicious liquid, and I was super poor—”
“That’s it, we’re friends now. Give me your number.”
Her name was Chloe, and she had blonde hair and a mischievous smile.
They got on like a house on fire. (This was a good thing, but not for Harry).
***
When Tom got home that evening, Harry was standing in the doorway.
“Lord Voldemort is a fucking stupid name.”
“Does that mean you’re not mad at me?” Tom asked, hopefully.
“Oh no, you’re definitely sleeping on the sofa for the next decade, but I just wanted you to know that.”
Life went on.
***
The next time Tom went out, Chloe didn’t bother responding to his dramatic monologue. She’d taken one look at him and declared him ‘as dangerous as a de-clawed sleeping puppy’.
So, Tom did what Tom did best: made it worse by creating rings of fire.
This summoned a blue spandex covered superhero.
“You’re so annoying, Serpent, why do you fly? None of the superheroes around here can fly.”
“How many of you are there?”
“There are eight of us, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
Eight superheroes! Take that, Harry.
“So,” Tom said, aiming for nonchalance, “What’s your super cool hero name?”
“Grappler will tell you my name is Wet-Man, but she is lying, I swear it. My name is Water-Beast.”
“Well, that’s not terribly creative,” Tom said.
Water-Beast squinted up at him. “You are literally called The Serpent.”
“Touché.” A beat. “Want to meet up on Tuesday with the Grappler? We have a lunch date.”
“Sure, man. Why the hell not?”
Water-Beast’s name was Jack, and he had apparently been born with his powers, along side his sister, Maria, or Flare, if they were talking superhero names. She could control fire, and had also agreed to join the meet up.
Tom went home, still dressed in spandex.
Harry opened the door, saw him, and shut it again.
Tom went in through the window, instead.
***
Tom went out again on the Thursday.
“I’m here to be mean and evil and get defeated by superheroes— oh my god, you’re tiny.”
The tiny superhero squinted at him. “My super special superhero name is Rage, if that helps.”
“I’d be pretty angry if I was that short, too.”
They looked offended. “Fuck you.”
Then lightning narrowly missed Tom’s shoulder, and he dived to one side.
“Any chance of convincing you to come to the superhero lunch on Tuesday?” he asked, dripping wet from the rain that started to pour down.
“Oh, I’ll be there,” Rage agreed, breaking out into a grin, “And I’ll even make sure the weather is nice. I just need to get back at you for the short comment.”
“You can control the weather and you’re still fighting me? Unfair.”
“Reconsider your career choices,” they yelled back.
Which, to be fair, Tom probably deserved.
Rage’s name turned out to be Vex, and Tom doubted he’d stop laughing for a year.
(On second thoughts, Vex had a mean backhand.)
***
When he got back, Harry and Hermione grabbed him and sat him down, helpfully pulling out a blanket to wrap around his shoulders.
“This is an intervention,” Hermione said.
Tom eyed the biscuits, and decided it was probably worth it.
***
He snuck out again the next day.
He’d barely managed to right himself in the sky when he saw the latest hero, who was dressed in a shiny silver spandex.
“So,” Tom called. “What’s your cool superhero name?”
“Flux,” she shouted back. “Yours is dumb, by the way.”
“Do you shapeshift?” Tom elected to ignore the last comment.
“Nah, I’m just genderfluid.”
“Male, female, enby, genderfluid, and there are still four more, leave some gender for the rest of us!”
“If you’re a supervillain, you don’t deserve gender.”
“Rude,” Tom said. “So, uh, what are you powers?”
Flux lifted her hand, and a bright white laser came blasting out, missing Tom by mere millimetres.
“Right!” Tom may have sounded a little hysterical. “How about we cancel fighting and meet up Tuesday instead?”
Flux shrugged, and hopped off the building.
She turned out to be called Felicity, or Felix, depending on the gender.
Tom liked her.
***
When Tom got home, the windows had been boarded up. That was fine, there was a secret tunnel in the basement.
***
Tom did a mid-air pirouette, black smoke trailing behind him.
Sarcastic clapping echoed across the sky. “Great moves, ten out of ten, would shoot if I had a gun.”
“Rude,” Tom replied. “Who even are you?”
“I’m the Puncherette,” the Puncherette said.
“And people call Lord Voldemort a stupid name.”
“Lord Voldemort is a stupid name.”
“Says the Puncherette.”
“Look, man,” he said. “I have super strength. It makes up for the dumb name.”
“Fair enough. Tuesday?”
“Sure.”
The Puncherette was, in fact, called James, and he wore mirrored sunglasses. Disgusting.
***
Tom made it back in without being skinned by Harry.
***
The next superhero Tom met was Ghost, who could turn intangible at will, yet didn’t fall through the floor. Weird.
Her real name turned out to be Jessica.
(Their actual interaction consisted of her yelling, “Fuck off!” from a rooftop then proceeding to walk through the wall of the next building.)
***
The final superhero he met on the Monday before the brunch.
Tom has been monologuing - “Ha ha, being evil, super evil, it would be a shame if a super cool superhero came and stopped me...” - when a girl had climbed on the rooftop and yelled, “My name is Caedes!”
“Ominous as fuck, but you’re not wearing spandex so you’re not a superhero.”
“I can throw boulders with my mind,” Caedes deadpanned. “I don’t think it matters that I have a better fashion sense than a supervillain.”
“Um, rude,” Tom said, “I didn’t realise that being a supervillain meant I’d get roasted all the time.”
“Then you should’ve thought harder.”
Caedes’ name was Emily. She was terrifying, and Tom loved her for it.
***
“Right,” Chloe said, letting her superhero friends through the window. “Harry, the boyfriend, right?”
“Uh, who’s asking?”
“Your boyfriend's new superhero friends that are tired of a dumbass villain in the sky. Deal with him yourself.”
“Wh—”
“I gave your friend - Hermione? - the spandex.”
***
“You’ll look great in neon pink,” Hermione said.
“I will not.”
“Fine, we’ll throw in some orange.”
“What, am I the lesbian flag? I’m bi, Hermione, can’t I be bi colours?”
“No.”
***
“Finishing touch!” Ginny cheered, scrawling something across the arse in red marker.
Property of Tom Riddle, it said.
“Why.”
***
Harry climbed on the roof in the pink and orange spandex, feeling incredibly awkward.
“Ha ha, I am the incredibly evil— Harry?”
“Uh, hi?”
Tom swooped down from his position in the air. “Harry, my darling! I knew your arse would look great in spandex!”
“Feeling kind of objectified here, Tom.”
“I’m not wrong, though.”
Harry kissed him to shut up. “Great, villain defeated, let’s go home.”
“Oh, Harry,” Tom said. “This villain is definitely defeated.”
***
Later, Harry said, “Can we not do the whole superhero-slash-supervillain thing again?”
“The spandex does wonders for your arse.” Tom pouted.
“How about we keep it for role play, and you can keep your superhero book club?”
“Sounds good, darling.” Tom winked and pressed his lips to Harry’s again.
The papers stopped reporting on The Serpent, oddly enough.