Chapter Text
Zhang Qui, (her school called her Cho Chang as it appeared to complex for the lazy English dogs to learn her culture) was looking for the annoying blonde faerie headed girl that plagued their dorm. She annoyed her, Soo-li and Marietta, the three of them had a pact to make the stupid Lovegood girl’s life a misery. Annoyingly she kept her happy go lucky front up and the three of them had stepped up their efforts, now something was petrifying random pupils, she pondered that it would be nice to engineer the Lovegood waif to be one of them.
Qui was searching the second floor, looking for her hiding place, she had managed to confund the Ravenclaw door guardian so Looney could not regain access to their Dorm, and she had slept somewhere out in the school. She didn’t look to have suffered much at breakfast, so she wanted to make tonight especially unpleasant if she could track her down. Stealing along the corridor she slipped into an unlocked door and cast a lumos charm around the room. It was a toilet block, she recognised it by reputation, it was Moaning Myrtle’s toilet. The annoying ghost that occupied this toilet, ensured it was unused by all but the hardiest pupils.
She checked each cubicle, and in the third, found a small black book laid in the floor, Qui picked it up absent mindedly and pushed it into a pocket in her robes. She checked the rest of the toilet and finding no one in residence she left the toilets as quietly as she arrived. Qui found no sign of Luna that night, and when she returned to her room in the Ravenclaw tower she hung her outer robe, and the book once more fell to the floor. Curious, Qui picked up the book, and sitting at her desk, flicked open the cover. It was blank, and she felt the need to write in it. She soon found the conversation with the mysterious Tom, from within the book captivating.
Tom told her to leave Luna alone, she was a pureblood after all. She should harass the mudbloods in the castle, the annoying Granger girl being a prime target the book shade suggested. Qui became more and more obsessed by the book. Luna benefitted slightly until the night Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater were both found petrified in a corridor near the library.
Qui wasn’t weak minded, and she argued with her friend Tom, she didn’t paint taunts on the walls in chicken blood, and she wasn’t interested in killing the pupils, she did like the idea of gaining knowledge, and power over others. She helped Tom.
In late May of 1993 Tom Marvolo Riddle stood over the recently deceased figure of Zhang Qui.
He felt less.
Incomplete.
He knew his mind was not entire, and he needed to regain the rest of his soul.
Making Horcruxes had been an error he considered.
He needed supplies, clothes, money and to leave the castle undetected. After a few moments thought he used the same pipes the Basilisk had used to travel to the seventh floor and entered the room of lost things.
Tom regarded the room and used Qui’s wand to summons other wands, he would need to leave her wand with her body, or suspicion would be aroused. He found a wand that suited him, Maple with a dragon heartstring, he summoned money and then jewellery. To his surprise, one of the summoned items was the lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. “Well, well, my lovely, what are you doing here?” he muttered to himself, picking it up, he felt the tug of a soul shard, and donning the diadem, he was joined with a later piece of himself.
Feeling the need he sat on a nearby chair and absorbed the soul fragment into him. Diary Tom was a full half of the original, the Diadem being the fifth Horcrux created was merely a thirty second of his soul, so its identity and ideology were quickly subsumed into the teenage Tom. Once the soul piece had left the magic of the Diadem was available to Tom.
With the clarity and enhanced logic available to him, he saw clearly, the folly of creating Horcruxes, the truth that he would live far longer without them. He also realised, he could control the Wizengamot far more effectively from the shadows, without bloodshed, without the need to pander to pureblood bigotry. He was a halfblood himself, his father had been a muggle, raped by his mother using magic. These facts, and his own casual attitude to killing disturbed him. The memories in the diadem shard knew the locations of the remaining segments, he decided to recover them to himself, and start afresh. He would achieve his aims by manipulation rather than directly attacking the status quo.
Late that night he slipped Qui’s body to the astronomy tower, wand in hand, the suicide note in her pocket. She declared to the world her remorse for ringleading the persecution of both Luna Lovegood, and petrifying those that had annoyed her. Tom slipped out of the castle via one of the secret passages and disappeared into the night.
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Harry Potter was miserable. His best friend Hermione was still petrified and as he sat reading to her for a couple of hours every night he was coming to realise that even as a not quite thirteen year old boy, his feelings for her were a bit stronger than just friendship. He finished the last chapter of the book he was reading to her, it was still a little early to head back, and he had finished all his assignments in good time. Harry found that doing his work on a table talking it through as if she were awake, helped him. It made him think things through and he was actually surprised to see his marks improve.
Ron was complaining, he wasn’t spending enough time with him, he wanted to play chess, talk quidditch, anything but do schoolwork. Harry had discovered in the weeks working on his own next to Hermione, and chatting away as if she was listening, he had rediscovered his love of learning. Ron wanted them to sign up for CoMC (Care of Magical Creatures) and Divinity, Harry had realised, he wanted to do Arithmancy, he liked mathematics, and it looked very similar.
“Hermione?” he enquired of the still form, “I think I am going to do Arithmancy, and I am wondering about Runes as another elective. Ron wants to do the bare minimum, but I have been enjoying learning again. He is a bit like Dudley at times. He gets angry if I do better, he actually got annoyed with me for coming here tonight, to talk to you, calling me mental and wasting my time on a know-it-all.” Harry’s voice dropped, “I am not sure if I still like Ron that much really. I miss you more than I would miss him. You would never criticise me for trying to do well.”
Harry sat in silence for a few minutes. “I really miss you Hermione, I hope you get better soon. I know it sounds stupid, but I think I love you a little bit. I like Neville, and the girls in the squad are nice to me, Katie is really nice, and she is pretty, but when I think of you I get a whole different feeling. When they showed us your petrified body I nearly went mad. I was so scared I would lose you. I don’t think I could cope if you weren’t here next year Hermione. Summer with my relatives is horrid. They are not nice people and they treat me awfully, but I can cope with it because I know in September I will see you again. I go to sleep worrying about you, and I wake up wondering if you will be OK.”
Harry glanced around the room, “It’s a good job you can’t hear me, you would probably hex me six ways to Coventry if you heard me say all that. It’s nearly curfew, so I need to go. I will be back after dinner tomorrow, I heard that Dumbledore and Hagrid are both coming back, although no-one is saying what’s going on. Lavender says it was all Cho, she says they found her body and she had written a confession, but who knows.” He stood up and gathered his books into his bag, “Goodnight fair maiden” he kissed her temple and chuckled to himself as he left the room. ‘I wouldn’t dare do that if she was awake.’
A couple of days later Hermione ran the length of the Hall and glomped onto Harry in full view of the whole school. It is too early Harry, we are too young, but I think I love you too, and I heard every word you said. Next year you are taking me to Hogsmeade and we shall start to date. She could feel Harry almost trembling as she squeezed him in her arms with all her strength, his arms wrapped around her tentatively at first, and slowly he returned the hug. “Thank you Harry, Madame Pomfrey told me that you visited every night, thank you for being my friend.” She briefly thought of kissing his cheek and blushed at the idea, her nerves failed her before she made the move.
A catcall from one of the twins brought her back to the hall, and the pair slowly let each other go, as she looked at the table the quidditch team separated out and created two spaces for them, they sat and joined the team, the girls immediately asking if she was better, was she going to suffer. Katie smiled at her and whispered into her ear, “Your Harry has been going spare worrying about you. We have tried to keep him calm, but he is so happy now you are out. I think he likes you Hermione. I think he really likes you, if you are interested we can make sure he asks, we want our baby seeker to be happy, and he has been miserable without you.” Katie held Hermione’s gaze for a moment, “Do you like him?”
Hermione’s face went pink and her mind went blank for a moment, “I do, but we are too young. Maybe next term?”
Katie beamed, “Why wait?”
Hermione’s eyes opened wide and she shook her head in a mild panic, “Not yet. I need to. Erm, just later. Next term. After summer.”
Katie cocked her head to one side, “OK, I will not say anything to Beaker, but we will make sure he asks you to Hogsmeade next term.”
“Beaker?”
“Baby Seeker, it’s what we Foxes call him.” Hermione nodded. She thought, ‘why did I panic, I know he will say yes. He sat and confessed he has feelings for me. Why am I so scared to admit mine.’ The food arrived on the plates and Hermione realised how hungry she was and filled her plate with vegetables and some nice lean chicken. She glanced down the table, Ron was sat with Dean and Seamus, Harry was next to her alongside one of the twins and the other members of the Quidditch squad were opposite. Alicia and Angelina were having a wordless conversation with Katie, they both turned to Hermione and smiled like sharks. For a moment she wondered if she should just take a breath and ask Harry herself. For a moment. She ate some chicken and green beans and the courage left her once more.
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Following the inflation of Aunt Marge, Harry climbed off the Knight Bus and walked into the Leaky Cauldron, to be met by Tom, and his trunk taken to his room, he was still trying to figure out how had Tom expected Harry’s arrival, when Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, no less, took his arm and talking away about how it was all fine, nothing to worry about, everything was taken care off, deposited him in a room. They had already collected his books and things for him, he checked over and saw he had books for divination and CoMC, despite putting Arithmancy and Runes as his electives. He was still quite angry from the abuse Marge had inflicted on him so he sat and wrote a quite sharp letter to Professor McGonagall, insisting he did not under any circumstances wish to study divinity, and was very interested in Arithmancy, as it was similar to mathematics a subject he had enjoyed. Runes was the obvious stablemate and he would not be attending CoMC either. Thank You. He tied the Parchment to Hedwig’s leg and let her fly out the window, before heading down into the leaky and ordering fish and chips, he had not eaten a full meal in over four weeks and was more than ready to enjoy a full stomach once more.
The following morning, Hedwig awoke Harry by pulling at her chick Harry’s hair. She had a reply from Professor McGonagall.
Mister Potter.
I am pleased to confirm that I have you down for both of your preferences, and I am encouraged by the passion with which you write to ensure your education has some value. CoMC is on your schedule as you have to select three electives and it is either that or Muggle Studies, which I hope you agree is of no value to someone raised in the muggle world such as yourself.
That being said, I will forgive the tone of your letter this once, but in future, please remember your manners Mister Potter. Your mother would be proud of your determination to improve, but I suspect would have made you re-write it in more polite terms.
- McGonagall. Ms Trfg.
Deputy Head, HSoWW.
Harry read the letter, and felt guilty. He grabbed some fresh parchment and sent a note of both thanks and an apology back to his Head of House. Hedwig finished the bacon he had saved for her and departed into the sky.
Harry spent the rest of the day in Diagon Alley, reading next year’s books in Fortesque’s café, and chatting for hours about the History of the magical world to the ice cream parlour owner.
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Tom Riddle’s first port of call on leaving the Castle was to the old family pile, he was in and out of the Gaunt Shack in under an hour, leaving the remains burning fiercely in the night as he apparated away to a safe house his later self had kept secret from everyone else. The Ring held a quarter of his soul, and it took a considerable amount of time and effort for him to subsume the fragment without surrendering control of their life. He realised that his previous incarnation had gone insane at some point, and his ideas and values were completely false and ridiculous.
The cave disappointed him, Regulus had pulled the wool over his eyes, no matter, he would track the locket down later. The cup had been entrusted to Bellatrix, the once exciting and vivacious cousin of Regulus, and his lover according to his memories. He reviewed the later version of Bellatrix, insane, vicious and capricious. She was a cartoon villain’s moll, he thought. Intending to regroup, he went to Diagon Alley, to see if he could access any of the vaults of his followers, any of his old vaults. To his delight, his own vault was still available, and he accessed it, he had stashed a fortune here, and as his old mentality had descended into madness, had abandoned contact with the Goblin Bank.
He walked out into the Alley, and recognised the young man walking away from Fortesque’s.
Harry Potter.
His bane.
Correction, his predecessor’s bane, in many ways his saviour. Whatever was left of the former ‘Lord Voldemort’ it was completely insane, and he would have to battle it when he finally restored that portion of his soul to his consciousness. As he watched the boy walk away, he felt a slight pull towards him, he knew by now the feeling of one of his own segments, this was a small one, but an easily collected fragment.
He followed the young man along the road, he was barely a teenager Tom considered, he wasn’t tall like his father, he looked like he had not had the pampered life Qui had believed in her memories, she had resented ‘Potter’ as she thought him, for his life and popularity. The boy in front of him was avoiding people, he was doing a very good job of not being noticed, this was not a fame seeker. Tom was intrigued.
Potter entered the Leaky and Tom casually followed the lad into the bar area, he headed up the stairs and with a swift notice-me-not, Tom followed. He watched the lad open a room door, and in a rush he ran up to the room and stunned him in the back as he turned to close the door. With a wand flick he sent the boys unconscious body onto the bed and closed the door locking it.
Tom walked across to the foot of the bed. He looked around, schoolbooks open on the desk. A vacant perch, the window ajar. Charing Cross audible below. His trunk was open, and badly packed, he was a schoolboy, the ‘boy-who-lived’. How did this small runt of a child defeat his other self?
Tom placed his hand over Harry’s head, his senses directed him to the scar, and he placed his palm over the ugly mark.
Here.
He could feel it’s anger and frustration.
It wanted control.
It was contained, and restricted.
Tom reached with his magic and dragged it from the boy. It fought, with a tenacity that belied its size. Tom had to put more and more effort into retrieving the shard and when it finally came free and entered him, he contained it. He sat back on the chair and meditated for a while stripping the anger from the segment, discarding the madness, reviewing the information and studying the last memories of a clearly deranged individual.
Tom opened his eyes and regarded the unconscious form of Harry Potter. The boy that was his nemesis and placed the tip of his wand against the still bleeding scar. ‘Time to settle the debt’, he thought.