Chapter Text
The silence in the Slytherin Common room only lasted for a short while, much to Tom’s dismay. He had recently begun his investigations on Horcruxes and the reading alone was enough to drain his magic if he wasn’t careful. Tom had to place protective charms on his psyche when the books started affecting his ability to concentrate. He welcomed the other side effects though, the whispers and shadows that crept up around him while he read.
“Did you hear?” Someone asked.
Tom turned another page and the whispers multiplied. Oh, he could hear indeed. The cries of terror from a thousand tortured souls, the whispers of previous dark lords casting a legacy of spells, the—
“It’s about Potter.”
Tom looked up and the voices stopped. When is it ever not about him? He thought while suppressing an eye roll. “Finally fell from his broom?” Tom asked aloud. Of course, it was Potter who had interrupted his reading on world domination. Of course, it had anything to do with Potter at all.
“Probably another potions accident judging by the look on Snape’s face earlier,” Astoria snorted. Tom turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. Greengrass would have been considered the spitting image of her older sister, Daphne, had she not gained a rebellious streak over the summer and dyed her hair black. Tom liked her better this way though, only because he did not like Daphne very much at all. The eldest Greengrass was relentless in her pursuit of him. He imagined it would only worsen now that they were in their final year of study. Many students got engaged by the end of the year, especially those in Pureblood society. Daphne Greengrass no doubt expected a ring.
Alfred Nott hummed in agreement from his place in the armchair across Tom’s. “I wondered what that was about. Think it’ll be enough to get him finally expelled?”
“One can only dream.”
Tom did not have to identify who had spoken. It was a shared desire within Slytherin House that the Potter brat was to be one day expelled. Or any Gryffindor for that matter. The snarky laughter that rippled throughout the common room confirmed it.
“He got registered as an Animagus.”
All traces of humor fled Tom’s body. “What.” He demanded with a hiss. His reaction, however, went unnoticed as Draco Malfoy slammed his hands on the table at the same time. He had been playing chess with Theodore, pieces from the set now scattered across the floor.
“That’s a lie!” the blonde shouted, already red-faced and puffy. Unlike Abraxas, Draco had a loose rein with his temper. Should he ever choose to align himself with Tom’s cause, well, they would have to do something about those little outbursts. Only this time Tom did not fault the youngest Malfoy too much for his anger. While Tom may have been Potter’s unofficial rival, Draco was his true one. The two bickered and competed just as much as Tom and he did. Only their rivalry could be measured since they were both in Fifth Year. What Tom and Harry had grown to develop over the years was due to something else entirely. Professor Trelawney had even claimed that their rivalry—she used the word ‘relationship’ but Tom refused to— was ‘written in the stars’. Tom had to physically restrain himself from feeding her to the Basilisk right then and there when it happened.
Orion Black let out a low whistle. He and Emmett Lestrange seemed to be enjoying the chaos from where they lounged on the couch. “Bloody hell,” Black said. “During the same year as his OWLs?” He sounded impressed. Tom dug his nails into the leather of the book so hard that he left marks. No doubt he was impressed, even if he was purposefully trying to rile Draco up.
Potter had only just turned 15. That made him the youngest Animagus in Hogwarts history. He was almost the same age that Tom had been last year when he opened the Chamber. Therefore, Tom could only assume that Harry Potter was trying to upstage him yet again. He had done so at 11 when he made the Quidditch team as a First Year and suddenly everyone seemed to forget that Tom had been the youngest to be accepted into the Dueling Club, a far more sophisticated and difficult feat, no doubt. Potter had done so again at 13 when he produced his Patronus Charm before Tom did. The brat wasn’t even supposed to know about Patronuses for another two years. But he no doubt had cozied up to their Defense teacher, some hairy bastard by the name of Remus Lupin, who did not hide the fact that he was a werewolf well enough. Tom had figured it out just as quickly as he had figured out Potter’s pattern.
Every other year Potter would come up with something that would attempt to mark him as the greater wizard between the two. The shared Parseltongue discovered during Potter’s second year didn’t count because it was an ability the Gryffindor brat was apparently born with. But it still made Tom bitter. He should have known this was coming. Tom wondered if Potter marked it in his muggle calendar and had been counting the days. He could imagine him with the Mudblood and that rotten Weasel kid right now, snickering in their room while reveling in Tom’s probable outrage.
“Surely that was just a rumor Weasley started after he couldn’t bear their humiliating defeat from last week any longer,” Draco declared while proudly puffing out his chest. He had been doing that a lot lately ever since making the team.
“Huh. Must be why Potter was so distracted during the match then,” Orion wondered aloud. Tom silently agreed even though it annoyed him to learn that Potter’s recent mess-ups had only been due to him seeking out another magical accolade.
“Who’s side are you on, Black?” Draco turned toward him with a hiss. “I would have caught the snitch either way and you know it.” He would not have, unfortunately. Rival or not, there was no denying Potter’s talents in Quidditch. At least compared to Abraxas' little brother.
Orion’s face twisted into a mocking sneer but he hid it well by pursing his lips. “Just making an observation, Drakey-Wakey. No need to get your knickers in a twist.”
“You—” Draco’s face burned bright red with fury and humiliation. “My brother will be hearing about this.”
“Oh, I bet he will,” Orion replied with glee. Lestrange’s shoulders shook from contained laughter beside him. “I’ll tell him all about it tonight when we’re snogging in bed.”
“What animal?” Tom asked smoothly before Draco had a chance to pull out his wand. He was doing a good job at feigning disinterest so far, keeping his face and posture neutral. Relaxed. Tom would not tarnish his reputation as Head Boy because of a squabble with a Gryffindor who couldn’t even comb his hair. Surely the Potter brat had found something weak and disgraceful to turn himself into, possibly something as cliche as a lion to claim house pride. Perhaps, Tom thought with a smirk, the spell had gone wrong and he would have a tail forever.
Druella turned toward him and flashed a smile, all teeth. Tom didn’t spend much time around her as much as he did with her brother, seeing as she was in Potter’s year, yet she had been the first to pick up on their little rivalry before anybody else had. Druella seemed to know a lot of things about a lot of different people. Sometimes even before they knew themselves. It made her all the more lethal.
“A snake,” she said softly.
Tom set the book on fire.
༻ 𓆙 ༺
A few months prior
Harry remembered registering the excitement on his parents' faces when he told them that he wanted to pursue the art of becoming an Animagus just like his father, James, and his godfather, Sirius. Said godfather in question transformed into Padfoot and took Harry on a joyride up and down Godric’s Hollow right away. Harry remembered registering it just as much as their shock and disappointment when he returned and told them that he wanted to become a snake.
Sirius almost immediately turned back, wiping off the sweat from his brow. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer something with…” he grimaced. “I dunno, legs?”
James said nothing. He was too busy staring at his son as if he were a hydra that had just grown another head. Actually, that was probably exactly what he was imagining after Harry’s confession.
Lily broke the silence, ever the peacemaker that she was. “Harry,” she began softly. The concern in her bright green gaze was apparent though. “Why a snake?”
Harry couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed. He hoped the flush that had already gathered there from his trek on Paddie’s back would be enough to hide it. “I, um, just thought it would be nice to connect with that side of myself a little more.” James’ eyes flashed and Lily winced. His parents both loved and accepted him, but Harry’s strange ability for Parseltongue still remained a bit of a taboo for their family.
“I thought I might as well go for it and learn how to become a snake altogether,” Harry continued. It wasn’t a lie, per se, but it was definitely not the full truth either. Not that Harry would ever tell them the truth. Merlin’s beard, being a Parselmouth was one thing, but having a crush on one? A brief image of Tom Riddle flashed through Harry’s mind and he quickly looked away from his father’s scrutinizing gaze. He did not see the way Sirius’ mouth twitched in sudden understanding.
The conversation went a bit differently with Ron and Hermione who, unfortunately, and fortunately, already knew about his feelings for Tom. That didn’t stop Ron from freaking out as he paced up and down Harry’s bedroom.
“Bloody hell, ‘arry. You’ve gone absolutely mad,” he stared wide-eyed at his friend. When he turned over to look at Hermione, his eyes seemed to widen even more. “He’s mad, isn’t he? Isn’t he?!”
Hermione groaned and ran a hand through her curls. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit extreme?” she asked quietly. “Trying to impress Riddle with spells and test scores is one thing, but an Animagus?”
Harry chewed on his bottom lip until it hurt. He didn’t stop though. Not until he tasted blood and Hermione had to mumble an Episkey for him because he was too lost in thought.
Was he being extreme? Harry had carried this silly little crush with him ever since First Year and it hadn’t seemed to go away. He still remembered the day the feelings started. Harry always used to think that he was the only one who could speak Parseltongue, let alone hold a soft spot for snakes. They were such misunderstood creatures, even for the students from Salazar’s house. That was until Harry heard Tom Riddle out in the courtyard, whispering to a dark green serpent. He had seen and heard enough about the boy in his first few weeks to know that he was just as bad as the other Slytherins, if not worse, but there was something different in Tom’s face and tone when he spoke to the snake. Harry never saw him smile like that with anyone, even five years later— all the more reason for him to commit the image to memory. All the more reason to want to draw it out.
Admittingly, it quickly became a bit of an obsession. Harry recalled the Sorting Hat claiming he was ambitious, but he never truly believed it until he started going out of his way to get Tom to notice him. If the boy could only smile at him like he had that day…
That was part of the reason why Harry told him he was a speaker during Second Year when he had yet to tell anyone else. Not even Ron or Hermione knew. It was also the first time he had ever spoken to Tom and to say that Harry had been nervous was an understatement. He completely fumbled his words before nearly falling on his face.
The older boy had denied everything at first, of course. Harry supposed it was only natural that he do so. He didn’t fault him for it either. Parselmouths were thought to have a strong inclination for the dark arts. Why would Tom want to open up to a stranger? To a Gryffindor nonetheless? But then Tom proceeded to harshly berate and criticize Harry’s abysmal pronunciation, claiming he sounded like a hatchling born too soon.
Harry, however, did not take offense. Oh no. Tom’s words only made him want to work harder to impress him. Lily and James had never really kept him from learning more about his second tongue, but they never encouraged him to do so either. Harry supposed he had never quite desired to learn more. Ever since Tom scolded him though, Harry scoured through all of the available books on Parseltongue in the library using his father’s Invisibility Cloak. He did so until eventually Filch noticed him snooping around the Restricted Section and Harry had to come clean to Headmaster Dumbledore. To his surprise, the man welcomed his ability, and so did most of the school as well. Dumbledore even awarded Harry points for his academic pursuits and what he claimed to be ‘fearless behavior’ given the controversy surrounding his special trait. Gryffindor ended up winning the House Cup that year too. Unfortunately, Tom did not smile at him from the crowd. Nor did he clap or say goodbye when they left for the summer. He did not so much as look in Harry’s direction.
But that was okay because Harry was anything if not relentless, and a little reckless. Okay, very reckless. He preferred the word resourceful though. It’s how he managed to bribe their Third Year DADA professor, Remus Lupin, into teaching him how to cast a Patronus after agreeing to set him up on a date with Sirius. Harry had known Lupin all his life, but he had never known that he had the hots for his godfather.
It was no surprise then, that his Patronus ended up being a Peacock, a reflection of Harry’s desire to impress someone as great as Tom Riddle. James was disappointed, of course, but Harry only cared about one person’s reaction and one person only. Tom, however, never made a comment about it at all. In fact, that’s probably when their unofficial rivalry began. All it took was for someone to announce that Harry Potter, a Third Year Gryffindor, had cast a Patronus Charm before Tom Riddle, Fifth Year Slytherin Prefect, for all hell to break loose.
Harry never really considered Tom his rival though. He participated in the glares and snide remarks whenever they ran into each other in the halls, but Harry only did so because it gave him a chance to talk to him. Harry still wanted to impress Tom, to see that lovely little smile again. Briefly, he wondered if he could somehow get Snape to like him enough to teach him how to brew something that would keep a memory fresh. That, however, felt like it would be his most daunting task yet.
“Harry.”
“Sorry,” he flushed. “What… What was the question again?”
“Ugh,” Hermione threw herself back onto his bed. “You’re impossible.”
Ron had finally stopped pacing but he remained quiet.
Eventually, Harry sighed. “Look, I solemnly swear that this will be the last thing I try. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll… I’ll stop.” It hurt to say, but Harry truly meant that. Tom was going to graduate soon anyway. There were even rumors that he would propose to Daphne Greengrass.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sat up suddenly. “We don’t want you to stop liking Riddle.”
“Speak for yourself, ‘mione!” Ron huffed. “I, for one, still think that Harry would make a better match with Romilda Vane or one of the Patil twins.” He gave Harry an assessing look that was reminiscent of his older brother, Percy. “Didn’t you say Dean Thomas was fit that one time he took his shirt off?”
Harry’s face colored before he could stop it.
“Ron.”
Hermione’s cheeks were dusted over with pink too. “Harry, you are allowed to like and pursue who you please.” She cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter. “We just don’t want you to get hurt. The Animagus process is arduous and can go dangerously wrong if you miscalculate even a single step.”
Harry heard Ron gulp.
“Well,” he gave them both a nervous smile. “It's a good thing I have dad and Sirius to help me.”
“I suppose… we could also help,” Ron said quietly after a while. His eyes shifted from place to place before landing on Harry’s. Hesitantly, he smiled. “Even if nothing happens between you and Riddle, guess this would still get a leg up on Malfoy, wouldn’t it?”
Suddenly, Harry broke out into a grin. “Ron, I like the way you think.”