Chapter Text
Tom Marvolo Riddle, a boy who sought power over all those who did him wrong and could potentially wrong him, eventually grew into an adult. He who was jaded since birth, never quite learned from his mistakes until he died. He, who had lost several parts of himself, was finally whole in death. He managed to think logically for the first time in years, and he understood that there were no more chances to get power over the wizarding world and its occupants. He had deviated from his original plan, fearing he'd never make any progress if he died early. In the end, he had been so caught up in his fear of dying that he forgot what he had originally fought so hard for. He wanted an equal originally, yet with the prophecy saying that he could potentially die to his equal, he decided to eradicate them. He, who had once sought something precious, ended up destroying the possibility where they could exist in the same place and time. He alone chose that path of destruction for both parties.
The Master of Death greeted him soon, and gave him an offer he couldn't refuse — go back and correct his errors. He couldn't choose when he'd go back, only that he'd go back to a certain point in time and have to continue from there.
When Tom goes back, he is sent to a time where he was a horcrux. He had lost his body already, and he was residing inside of the head of Harry Potter. He could do nothing more than watch and wait. He told himself he was fine with that, that he could just watch over Harry and the world around the boy until he could regain a body.
That all went out the window when Harry turned five. He was just a child, barely able to reach the stovetop, and he burned himself while trying to cook breakfast for those disgusting Muggles. He cried loudly as he dropped the pan, causing the breakfast of those Muggles to spill everywhere.
The Muggle woman screamed loudly at the boy as she came rushing into the kitchen. She didn't hold any sympathy for the burned arm, not when there was a pan that cracked a tile on the floor of her kitchen and a ruined breakfast for her own child. She screamed, yelled, and picked up the pan and swung it at Harry’s head. She had no sense of remorse as Harry screamed louder while covering his head and begged for someone to help him.
The Muggle man came into the kitchen next, and he, too, began to yell at the young wizard. He called Harry all sorts of names as he grabbed the boy by the scruff of his too-big clothes and dragged him to the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry cried and begged for forgiveness, but he was only kicked harshly by the Muggle man for causing a ruckus. He was thrown under the stairs and told to be quiet, lest he wanted something to really cry about. Harry wept silently while trying and failing to fight off his emotions. He wanted to know why he was treated in such a horrible manner, especially when his cousin was given everything he wanted and more.
Tom decided then was the time to act. He was gentle as he tried to use Legilimency on the boy. “Because they fear what they don't understand.”
Harry snapped his head up, hitting it on the stairs, and yelped loudly. He quickly shut his mouth when the Muggle man stomped his way down the hall once again. He laid down, curling into a ball to protect himself from any and all pain.
The Muggle man opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs, and he dragged the boy back out. He yelled loudly at the young wizard, who tried to explain himself through hiccups, tears, and a stutter. The man wasn't hearing any of it as he began to beat the boy down even further.
Tom had had enough, and he released an angered burst of magic to try and protect the boy who he went back in time to see. His magic thrashed, and it caused the Muggle to scream as he was thrown back from the boy and into the wall.
Harry stared fearfully as the Muggle man quickly stood up again. He whimpered as he tried to scramble back to the cupboard under the stairs, but his head was grabbed harshly.
The Muggle all but threw the boy to the ground, and he began to kick the boy.
Tom once again used his magic to protect the boy.
The man screamed as something in his foot cracked, and he was sent falling to the ground after kicking Harry yet again.
The woman entered the hallway, and she screamed upon seeing her husband on the ground. She then turned to the boy and yelled at him to leave, to never come back if he knew what was good for him, to just die already.
Harry could do nothing but cry even more and scramble for the door as she approached her husband and him. He rushed from the house as fast as he could, deciding he would live in the playground by the school.
Tom gently took control of the boy and led him in the opposite direction.
Harry, though he initially struggled, eventually gave up the fight.
“I won't hurt you.”
Harry looked around, obviously trying to find the voice.
“I'm in your head,” Tom explained in an elementary fashion.
“My — my head?” Harry asked suspiciously as his body carefully navigated through the streets and went in the opposite direction of Wisteria Walk, where that Squib, Arabella Figg, lived.
“Indeed,” Tom stated as he looked around suspiciously. Then, he suddenly ducked under a bush as a car began to turn down the street.
“Who are you?” Harry mumbled as the car slowly rolled down the street.
“Tom,” he said simply.
“What's your full name?” Harry pressed.
“Tom Marvolo Riddle, if you must know,” Tom drawled out as he made sure the car began to leave the area.
“What do you look like?” Harry asked as he closed his eyes and tried to picture whoever was in his head.
Tom chuckled. “Not pretty.”
Harry blushed a bit. “I — I know. Men are supposed to be big and manly, not…” Harry trailed off as he thought about himself and just how small and scrawny he was. He frowned deeply before asking, “Are you big and manly?”
“Harry,” Tom said as gently as he could manage, “You should know that people look differently. There's no such thing as normal.”
“But my family—”
Tom scoffed. “They're hardly family if they hurt you.”
“They're all I have…” Harry objected softly.
“You have me,” Tom said.
“Are you even real?” Harry suddenly questioned.
Tom chuckled. “As real as that scar over your right eye.”
Harry lifted his hand to his right eye, which was always hidden by hair. He recalled looking at it in the mirror, seeing how it was a pale blue color compared to his vibrant green left eye. He then remembered how his relatives always looked at him in disgust whenever his right eye was revealed before he eventually nodded once. “Okay.”
“Let's see… We have to get you to London first and foremost,” Tom mused to himself as he had Harry crawl from the bushes and continue walking.
“Why London?” Harry asked.
“To make sure those Muggles can't track you down,” Tom said honestly.
“Muggles?” Harry repeated.
Tom almost sighed, but he managed to hold that in. “You're magical, and those who aren't are called muggles.”
“Wait — magic?” Harry asked eagerly.
“You can't perform any at this stage,” Tom said. “Only accidental magic because your core is still forming.”
Harry made a soft noise of disappointment.
“When you turn eleven, you will receive a letter from Hogwarts. It's a school where witchcraft and wizardry are taught,” Tom explained. “And before you ask, you are a wizard.”
“What’s a wizard?” Harry inquired.
“Wizards are humans that are born with the ability to perform magic. They are all men. Witches are all women. Wixen, meanwhile, is a gender neutral-term that is often used to refer to underage witches and wizards. Old-fashioned witches and wizards do not like to use the term wixen, even if the magical person in question prefers it.”
“Why not?”
“It challenges the old views, and it's the old views that have kept the wizarding world alive.”
“Old views?”
“Witches and wizards who cling strongly to either the Dark or Light. They are never Gray.”
“Gray?”
Tom chuckled. “You're full of questions.”
“I — I’m sorry—”
“There's no need to apologize for being curious,” Tom assured the boy. “I won't get angry if you ask a question.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Well… Who's Gray?”
“Those who walk a line between Light and Dark are Gray. It's not a single color, mind you, but it's many shades. Light is supposedly all good. Dark is supposedly all evil. Gray is a middle ground, and it's the best place to be in the Wizarding World right now.”
“Why?”
“A Dark Lord was recently defeated, but those that linger in the Light for too long become blinded to their own shadows.”
Harry blinked slowly. “Uh…”
“The Light isn't all good anymore, and the Dark isn't all evil, either. Gray shows that, and that's why it's the best place to be.”
The boy nodded along. “Okay. What are you?”
“Dark.”
“Why?”
“I suppose it's because of all the decisions I made. I used to be a very bad person.”
“Why were you bad?”
“I saw no other way,” Tom said solemnly. “I am here to prevent that from happening again.”
“Again?” Harry picked up on right away.
“I do not wish to harm anyone who doesn't deserve it, and you most certainly don't deserve it.”
Harry fell quiet as he contemplated the words.
For a long while, Tom used Harry's weak body to traverse the suburbs and into the city. He then managed to stumble his way to the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley. He rushed to Gringotts and managed to get there just half an hour before the bank closed.
Not many witches and wizards were there, a good sign.
Harry approached the counter, which he couldn't even see over. “May I get an inheritance test?”
The goblin, who had been shuffling through his paperwork, paused before leaning over the counter to look at Harry with an eyebrow raised. “Are you here with anyone else, boy?”
“No,” Harry denied, “But I was never given the key to my family vault. I figured I had to prove who I was before you'd give me a key and allow me to take my finances into my own hands.”
The goblin set down the paperwork and folded his hands together. “Your name, young wizard?”
“Harry James Potter,” the boy stated.
The goblin's lips curled up. “Indeed. Step aside and wait for Griphook.”
Harry bowed his head just slightly, and the goblin gave a cruel sort of smile as Harry stepped aside and waited for a goblin.
Griphook soon appeared, and he took one look at Harry before his lips curled up. “Ah, yes. Mr. Potter. Follow me.”
Harry did as told, and he followed Griphook off the main lobby and into a small corridor, also made of white marble. He was brought into a small room, where only a desk and two chairs awaited. He sat down on the chair closest to the door, and the goblin walked around the desk to sit on the other side.
“Do you know how inheritance tests work, Mr. Potter?” Griphook asked.
“I do not,” Harry said honestly.
The goblin explained that three drops of blood shed by a pure silver blade on an enchanted piece of parchment would be all that was needed to confirm his lineage. He then asked if Harry was comfortable with such a thing.
Harry nodded once.
Griphook snapped his fingers and caused a small piece of paper to appear between the two, along with a quill resting in a jar of ink. “This is a Waiver of Liability for Gringotts.”
Harry picked up the paper and read it over, before pausing. “This exempts you from liability should I die on the premise.”
“Yes,” the goblin confirmed. “That is our policy.”
Harry looked down at the piece of parchment before him before signing. He then watched as it, the quill, and the ink jar disappeared in the blink of an eye.
“Mr. Potter, I must ask—”
“Fortius Quo Fidelius,” Harry said, “That is the motto of Gringotts, yes?”
Griphook gave a silent nod.
“We do not have any loyalty,” Harry said, “We are, at this point, no more than strangers. How could we, or more specifically, you, possibly have any strength in this scenario?”
Griphook stared for a good, long moment before his lips curled up into a vicious facsimile of a smile. “You know more than you're giving yourself credit for, do you not?”
“I know that we do not have loyalty yet. You haven't proved that I am Harry Potter, Manager of the Potter Vaults,” Harry pointed out.
Griphook gave a cold laugh. “You are certainly a clever one.”
“I try,” Harry said with a simple shrug. “The inheritance test?”
Griphook snapped his finger again, and the necessary items appeared.
Harry easily picked up the silver dagger, and he sliced open his left index finger. He then allowed three drops of his blood to fall onto the parchment before he waved his hand around, and the cut all but stitched itself closed. He set the dagger down carefully, and he looked down at the enchanted piece of parchment.
“My mother was a Gaunt,” Tom explained inside Harry's head. “I was also the Heir of Slytherin, as the Slytherin line went down through the generations to the Gaunt line. You are their Heir by Conquest, which means you bested me in battle. You are a Potter by birth, which is the descendants of the Perverell line. Now, your godfather was from the Ancient and Noble House of Black, which means you would have been their heir, but your godfather was disinherited more than a decade ago, so you may not be their heir. Your godmother, someone from the Longbottom family, already has a child, so you are not eligible to be their heir, either.”
Harry stared down, a bit overwhelmed, before he mumbled, “What do heirs even do?”
“Heirs do not have many responsibilities until they become of age,” Griphook waved off dismissively.
“At this time, I would choose a single lineage and become its heir immediately,” Tom suggested.
Harry asked, “Do heirs get anything?”
“They get access to limited funds from the trust funds set up,” Griphook stated.
“A ring, too,” Tom said, “Save for Slytherin. They have a locket, and it's unavailable at the moment.”
Harry hummed before asking, “May I have the Gaunt Heirship Ring?”
Griphook smirked. “You are an interesting one.”
“Thank you,” Harry said with a curt nod.
Griphook snapped his fingers once, and a box appeared between the two in place of the inheritance test and silver dagger.
Harry stared down at the ring that bore a weird circular, snake shape. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out and brushed the mark. He gasped loudly and shuddered as some kind of magic flowed over and through him.
Tom gently murmured, “It's alright, Harry. It's just trying to see if you're actually a Gaunt by conquest.”
“It — it's like it's trying to tickle me,” Harry said with a small giggle.
Tom chuckled to himself. “I suppose it is, hm?”
Harry gently picked the ring up from the box before pausing. “Isn't it too big for my hand?”
“It will shrink down once you place it on your index finger,” Griphook said.
“Which one?” Harry inquired.
“Which is your dominant hand?” Griphook replied questioningly.
“You shake with your right hand, so use that index finger,” Tom said.
Harry slid the ring onto his right index finger, and he shuddered again as the warm and ancient magic tested his own magic; pushing, pulling, and squirming around until it was satisfied and settled. He felt pride as the ring shrunk down to the size of his index finger. He smiled down at the weird symbol on the ring before Tom reminded him about his finances. Harry quickly folded his hands together and looked at the goblin carefully. “How do I get a key made and keep all the other keys for the Potter vault from working?”
“Unfortunately for you, as you are a minor without your magical guardian, you may not withdraw all other keys from working,” Griphook said.
“You mean to tell me that I have to wait for the approval of my magical guardian who dumped me on a doorstep when I was a baby and didn't come back for me?” Harry asked bluntly.
The goblin paused before saying almost hesitantly, “Unless you can prove to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic that you were purposely abandoned and neglected by your magical guardian, my hands are tied on the matter.”
“What about the Gaunt trust fund?” Harry asked quickly. “May I control that without input from anyone else?”
“You may,” Griphook approved.
“Great,” Harry said with the utmost relief. “Then I want a key for that trust vault, and I want any other keys for that particular vault to be invalidated.”
“Very well, Mr. Potter,” Griphook said.
“I would prefer the name Harry Gaunt,” Harry said as he looked at the goblin with a bit of a frown.
“Gaunt?” The goblin questioned.
“Yes, Gaunt,” Harry confirmed with a nod.
The goblin hummed before nodding once. “Very well, Heir Gaunt. I will have a key produced for you for both the Potter and Gaunt trust vaults. Would you like to draw from either account today?”
“Yes, I would like to make a withdrawal from the Gaunt trust vault,” Harry confirmed.
“I will guide you down, and you may take the money you need. Would you be needing a pouch for your money today? We provide ones with anti-theft enchantments for a fee.”
“I’ll take one, and withdraw the money from the Gaunt trust vault.”
“Of course,” Griphook said with a grin. He opened a drawer in the desk and provided the money pouch. He closed the drawer and stood up as Harry gently took the pouch. “Come along now, Heir Gaunt.”
Harry quickly stood and followed after Griphook to a doorway in that small corridor. He expected more marble after that, but he was a bit surprised to see normal stone with tracks and a cart waiting for them.
“Climb in,” Griphook demanded.
Harry did as ordered, and Griphook entered the cart after him. The cart jerked forward, and the two were racing through tunnels and caverns of stone and caves with stalagmites and stalactites. Once, Harry thought he saw a burst of fire or the like, as he turned to look, the goblin warned him about falling out of the cart. Harry sat properly afterwards, and Griphook merely stood there as the cart raced deeper and deeper before eventually getting to the Gaunt trust vault. The cart slowed before eventually stopping at a large stone door, and the two got out of the cart.
Griphook looked at the boy and explained, “Because your keys are still being made, I will open the vault for you. This is a one-time deal, understood?
“Understood,” Harry said.
Griphook ran a finger down the door, and the vault’s doors shuddered a bit before opening slowly.
The sound of stone sliding against stone filled the air, and slowly, the room within was revealed.
Harry marveled at the sight of all the gold, silver, and bronze coins.
“Take quite a few Galleons and Knuts,” Tom said, “They're the gold and bronze coins. You'll need them for little things like sweets and other supplies from the Wizarding World.”
Harry eagerly stepped in and began to scoop handfuls of the gold and bronze coins into his pouch. He then took a few silver coins, Sickles, and returned to the cart where Griphook was waiting.
The two got onto the cart, and they quickly made it back to the main hall, where Griphook directed Harry over to another goblin.
Harry received two keys, and then he left Gringotts behind with terribly aching feet. He was hungry and wanted a place to rest his feet for a while, so he made his way to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. He stood in the small line and eventually ordered himself a strawberry sundae with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
Fortescue, who had been staring at the boy since he entered, asked, “Where are your guardians, son?”
“Guardians?” Harry repeated curiously as he put some golden coins on the counter between the two.
“Your aunt and uncle,” he reiterated, and Harry froze.
Tom quickly forced Harry's body into action, and he got Harry to flee from the ice cream parlor. He quickly ducked Harry down Knockturn Alley and to Borgin and Burkes, which was closing up for the day.
Borgin, the greasy bastard, sneered down at Harry. “Out!”
Tom straightened his muggle clothes out and snapped, “If you yell again, I'll tell the Daily Prophet about your private little scandal from 1978.”
Needless to say, Borgin broke out in sweat at the mention of his private scandal that no one alive should have known about. “What do you need, boy?”
“I need to use your Floo,” Tom said, “You should guard the door for me while I leave.”
“What else do I get out of it?” Borgin asked.
“You get the favor of keeping your dignity and your so-called store from becoming a laughing stock,” Tom said irritably.
Borgin eyed the boy before him before begrudgingly breaking down. “Fine. Let me get the Floo powder.”
Tom waited for Borgin to move to the back of his store before moving Harry to the Floo. He grabbed a small pouch hidden in a nearby cabinet and threw a pinch into the Floo. He stepped in and said, “Gaunt Manor.”
Harry was pushed out at the right grate, and he just about collapsed onto the floor. He groaned as he dragged himself to a nearby armchair and curled up in the seat. He then promptly fell unconscious, and his mind drifted away to a place he had never been before.
“Rest. I used your body too much.”
Harry's eyes opened partly to see a man staring out of a window nearby.
This man had dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes. He continued to stare out of the window as he once again said, “You should rest, Harry. You'll need it when you wake up.”
Harry closed his eyes and tried to think of why the man's voice sounded so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. As he was thinking, he finally fell into a good, restful sleep.