Chapter Text
Harry pauses a moment to collect his thoughts and then starts talking. “My name is Harry James Potter and I was born on July 31st, 1980.”
Tom inhales a sharp breath, probably only now realizing that Harry is actually from the future. Thankfully he doesn’t interrupt Harry more than that, so Harry can continue the story, which is difficult enough as it is.
“My parents were James and Lily Potter. They died on October 31st, 1981, protecting me from a Dark Lord who called himself Lord Voldemort.”
This does not ring any bells with Tom yet, since Harry is sure Tom hasn’t ever felt the need to style himself a whole new name out of the letters of the one he was given at birth.
“Lord Voldemort tried to kill me, too, and cast a killing curse at me. But it rebounded because of my mother’s sacrifice and instead hit him, blasting his body to smithereens. I was placed with my mother’s muggle sister and her family. They despised magic and literally kept me in a cupboard under the stairs up until I got my Hogwarts letter.”
There is a brief flash of anger inside Tom at learning that Harry had been so mistreated in his youth.
“I was sorted into Gryffindor and made two great friends in that house. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.” Harry proceeds to give a brief summary of every Hogwarts year, only leaving out the revelation of Voldemort’s real name. “During what should have been my seventh year, I was on the run, living in a tent all over Britain to keep out of Voldemort’s hands while we hunted his horcruxes. That eventually led us back to Hogwarts, where Voldemort had a horcrux hidden in the Room of Requirement.”
Tom makes bit of a face, his nose wrinkled and his brow furrowed, at the mention of something so vile being stored in his beloved Room of Requirement.
Harry ignores that rather ironic response and keeps on talking. “Through some orchestrating from Dumbledore I discovered that I had a horcrux in my scar, accidentally created on the night Voldemort tried to kill me, and that the only way I could get rid of it was to let Voldemort kill me.”
“No!” Tom sits up a little, leaning on an elbow while he stares into the distance with wide eyes. “Is that how you died? You let that utter bastard kill you?”
“Yes and no,” Harry says with a quiet chuckle. Seeing Tom Riddle outraged about Harry’s possible death will never not be funny. “I did let Voldemort hit me with a killing curse but thanks to some magical loopholes I didn’t die. Only the horcrux did. And some time later, during our final duel, Voldemort tried to use the Elder wand against me but it refused and turned on him. Voldemort was ultimately brought down by his own killing curse.”
“Good,” Tom says in a voice full of venom. “He deserved that, the utter twat.”
“There’s one thing I haven’t told you yet about Voldemort,” Harry says in as steady a voice as possible. “Lord Voldemort was an anagram. His real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.”
Tom falls back against the bed as though he’s suddenly lost control of his body. “Tom Marvolo Riddle… I am Lord Voldemort.”
“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “Well, not right now you’re not. Right now you are an amazing young man who has more talent in his little finger than ten random wizards combined.”
“You saved me,” Tom gasps, sounding like he’s on the brink of hyperventilation. “Somehow, you came back in time and you saved me.”
“Ultimately you saved yourself,” Harry says and he means every word of it. Tom did all the hard work. All Harry ever did was whisper in his mind and give him lots of encouragement.
“It was the horcruxes, wasn’t it?” Tom still sounds like he can’t breathe. “They utterly destroyed me the moment I created them.”
“That, and a really shitty childhood without any love or guidance.” Harry thinks for a moment how to explain this delicate subject. “At Wool’s you only learned how to lash out at others. Survival of the fittest and all that rot. And at Hogwarts you were sorted into Slytherin and quickly copied their pureblood rhetoric.”
Tom blinks a few times and inhales a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t imagine ever subscribing to such an illogical ideology.”
“I think you were just trying to survive in Slytherin the first few years before realizing you had ready minions around you if you parroted their beliefs,” Harry offers.
“It must have been those fucking horcruxes,” Tom mumbles again, eyes squeezing shut as he throws his head back against the bed. “I seriously considered making them this time around as well. If you hadn’t warned me about them I might have done so even now.”
“But you didn’t,” Harry is quick to point out. “There’s a lot of things you did in your first life that you changed for the better this time around.”
“How can you stand it?” Tom asks in a voice that is barely audible. “How can you stand living inside the head of your prophesized enemy, the murderer of your parents.”
“You’re not that man,” Harry says quickly, voice firm. The last thing he wants is for Tom to believe he is anything like Voldemort. “When I woke up inside of you, when you were just a tiny baby, I immediately decided you deserved a second chance and I vowed to help you and support you as much as I could. And I have not regretted that decision for one second. I honestly couldn’t be more proud of the wizard you turned out to be, Tom.”
Tom manages a few deep but even breaths and slowly blinks his eyes open. “How did you end up inside of me in the first place?”
“No clue,” Harry says without much concern. He’s been stuck in Tom for over eighteen years now. He’s used to it. “I lived a long life and died of natural causes as an old man. And the next thing I know is waking up in your infant mind.”
“You did house part of my soul for almost two decades,” Tom muses, proving that even in times of great emotional distress, Tom is always eager to solve whatever mysteries he comes across.
“That’s one possibility. I was also the Master of Death at some point in my life. Perhaps that also played a part.” Harry adds a dash of warmth to his voice. “Ultimately it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m glad I got this opportunity, I really am. Seeing you grow up has been a real joy and I can’t wait to see what more you can do with magic in the future. For all the evil that Voldemort did, he was a remarkable wizard who managed incredible feats of magic.”
“Such as murder and mayhem,” Tom mutters in obvious distaste.
“Such as flying without a broom,” Harry says with a clear challenge in his voice.
That catches Tom’s attention, like Harry knew it would. Tom sits up at once. “How did he manage such a thing?”
“No idea, but I’ve seen him do it. If he could do it, so can you.” Harry is very happy to see that Tom takes this challenge for what it is; a much needed distraction from a very difficult revelation. Tom’s always been a person who keeps his emotions close to his chest and who needs time to process emotional upheavals of any kind. Harry knows that in the future Tom will come back to the subject and all but interrogate Harry about Voldemort, but for now it’s probably best that Tom focuses his mind on something else for a while.
In the coming days and weeks, Harry is proven right. Tom doesn’t talk about Voldemort or Harry’s previous life. Instead he goes out and rents a small muggle cottage beside a babbling brook at the edge of some woodland. It’s an utterly idyllic place and Tom ignores its beauty completely because he’s much too busy signing himself up for every duelling competition he can enter.
It quickly becomes clear that Tom has chosen to deal with his anger and pain on the duelling stage. He soon gains a reputation as a duellist who is calculating, creative and absolutely ruthless. He doesn’t shun harming his opponents, though it’s never life threatening. Since he is just a beginner he does lose a few duels, but only during the first few months. Tom is a genius and he uses that intellect to study his opponents and their tactics with a devotion that is unparalleled by anyone else. Tom steadily rises up the ranks and goes up several divisions in record time until he’s allowed to compete in the highest division known as the Distinguished League.
Tom uses any prize money he wins to sign up for duels all over the world and they start travelling the majority of the time. The beautiful cottage barely gets any use and Tom mostly uses it for storage. They spend their days in hotels and bed and breakfasts around the world while Tom deals with his inner turmoil by professionally putting witches and wizards on their arses as creatively as he can.
Harry lets him, understanding that this is something Tom needs to do for his own well-being. And to be honest, Harry really enjoys watching Tom duel. He spends hours with Tom analysing their duels afterwards, breaking apart their tactics and taking note of anyone’s strengths and weaknesses. It is really good fun and Tom relaxes more and more until he finally brings Harry’s past up again, six months after Harry finally told him the truth.
“So how old was I when I came up with the name Lord Voldemort? Twelve?”
Harry cackles in the back of Tom’s mind before he can help himself. “I cannot say for certain but it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Tom snorts and then shakes his head, obviously quite embarrassed on his old self’s behalf. “What was Voldemort even trying to achieve? Aside from that ridiculous pureblood ideal.”
“Honestly? I think any real goals Voldemort might have had once upon a time got lost along the way as his paranoia grew and his cognitive functioning declined with every horcrux that he made.” Harry remembers the obvious differences he saw between the Voldemort in his early twenties and the Voldemort that rose from the cauldron in the graveyard. Once upon a time Voldemort had been capable of reason and logic, all held together with a generous amount of common sense. But he’d definitely lost that along the way as his soul was shattered and his mind deteriorated more and more.
“I keep finding myself unreasonably angry with Voldemort for what he did to you,” Tom mutters as he shifts in the chair near the window of the hotel room they’re in. Tom’s got a big duel the next day in Sao Paolo, Brazil. “But then I remember that Voldemort is who I might have become and then I mostly end up feeling angry with myself.”
“Oh no, Tom,” Harry says at once, putting as much conviction in his voice as he can. “You are not Voldemort, not even close. You’re not even the Tom Riddle of my previous life. Your entire life was different, remember that. There are similarities between you both, of course, but ultimately you are very different people with completely different outlooks on life.”
“Hm. If you say so.” Tom absently scratches at his chest as he stares out the window to the city below. “It’s all been rather terrifying, knowing how different I could have turned out. How easily I could have ruined my entire life and everyone else’s with it.”
“Honestly, Tom, I think that goes for everyone,” Harry says, trying to sound reasonable. “I wonder what it would have taken for me to go off the rails in my previous life.” Harry still remembers the whole shitshow that was his fifth year at Hogwarts, with Umbridge torturing him for months on end. “There were definitely moments in my old life that I came close to making some really bad choices. Everyone does at some point, I’m sure.”
“What did Voldemort do about his father?” Tom finally asks with a feigned air of nonchalance while he plucks at his shirt. “I can’t image he was thrilled to find out he was sired by a muggle.”
“He killed his father. And both his grandparents.” Harry waits with baited breath for Tom’s reaction, but Tom gives very little away in his emotions or behaviour.
“Figures. I want to meet him. After this duel.” Tom pauses, as though awaiting Harry’s response. When Harry remains quiet, Tom says, “You promised, Harry. What are you worried about? That I’ll slaughter my useless muggle relatives like Voldemort once did?”
“No,” Harry says at once, and he means it, too. This Tom isn’t nearly as curse-happy and volatile as his predecessor. “I suppose I’m still trying to protect you, even if you’re now a man grown. I just hate to see you get hurt, sweetheart.”
Tom’s answering smile is both appreciative and exasperated. “You cannot protect me from the entire world, Harry.” Tom’s smile slips off his face and an emotionless mask takes its place. “I have to do this. I just want to see what sort of people would leave their own child in an orphanage.”
“Very selfish people,” Harry offers in a quiet voice. “Or very traumatized ones.”
“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough what sort of person my father is.”
As it turns out, Tom Riddle the elder is both selfish and traumatized. He stares at Tom as though seeing a demon in the flesh and backs away until he hits a side table, sending a ceramic lamp crashing to the floor.
Tom’s grandfather comes hurrying into the elaborate entrance hall of the family mansion. “Who are you?” the old man demands while helping his son up from the floor. Tom the elder is trembling like a leaf.
Tom keeps his cool and gives his grandfather a polite nod. “My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I was told that my family lives here. And I can tell by your appearance that we are most likely related.” Both Tom’s father and his grandfather look a lot alike. There is a definite family resemblance between the three of them.
“Are you the spawn of that harlot that bewitched our son?” Tom’s grandfather demands with a dark look, his whole face scrunching up in a grimace, as though talking about this subject physically hurts him.
“My mother died giving birth to me,” Tom explains patiently, keeping his emotions so tightly under control that Harry can’t feel anything bleed through. “So I cannot tell you if she was a harlot or not. She did name me after my father before she died and left me to grow up in an orphanage in London.”
There is not a trace of sympathy to be found on the faces of Tom’s father and grandfather, as Harry had hoped to see.
“What do you want from us then?” Tom’s grandfather asks in gruff voice, narrowing his eyes at Tom, who is still standing in the doorway.
“I wanted answers,” Tom says, lips pulling up in a sharp smile. “But I can see that the only answer I’ll be getting today is that you lot are simply deeply selfish and uncaring people. So instead I’ll take money. You owe me that much.”
“We owe you nothing,” Tom’s father snarls, barely able to look at Tom. “That hellish witch ruined me! You should have died with her!”
Tom sighs and takes out his wand. For a moment Harry is paralyzed with fear, thinking that perhaps he’d been wrong about Tom after all. But Tom doesn’t cast any Unforgivables, only a couple of compulsion charms. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You will pay me a very generous sum right now as compensation for all the years you left me to rot in an orphanage. And from now on, you will also pay me a monthly stipend. Do this and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Fine,” Tom’s grandfather growls. “Wait there.”
Ten minutes later Tom leaves Riddle Mansion behind, a big stack of banknotes tucked safely away in his coat pocket.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get the answers you were hoping for,” Harry whispers as Tom strolls down the garden path towards the street.
Tom shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “But I did get some answers. I know exactly what kind of people they are now. And I know that had they raised me, I probably would have had a worse childhood than the one I had in the orphanage.”
“Huh.” Harry actually realizes that Tom might just be right about that. “Your father certainly wouldn’t have treated you with kindness. And your grandfather is probably just as unpleasant.”
“They are deeply selfish people, convinced of their own superiority,” Tom says matter-of-factly.
Harry has to stifle a laugh, because if there’s someone who is convinced of their own superiority, it’s Tom the certified genius. Looks like he came about that particular character trait in a perfectly honest way.
“While we’re at it,” Harry says after he’s calmed down. “Would you like to meet the Gaunt side of your family?”
Tom’s answering grin is as ravenous as a shark’s. “Yes. Let’s.”
“I’m quite sure your grandfather Marvolo has been dead for a number of years, but your dear uncle Morfin should still be alive,” Harry explains as they wander around the outskirts of Little Hangleton for a while, looking for a delipidated shack.
They find it eventually, mostly hidden by trees and shrubbery and lots of overgrown ivy. Tom cautiously walks up the path towards the weathered front door, which stands open just a bit. “Hello?” Tom calls out but there is no reply.
They quickly learn why once Tom pushes the door open and peers inside, wand in his hand just in case.
In the middle of the room lies a skeleton that’s only recently been decomposed. There’s a dark stain all around it and traces of lots of insect activity. The remains are dressed in tattered rags with clumps of hair still attached to the skull. On the woodstove a cauldron sits that looks like it exploded.
“It appears that my dear uncle blew himself up at some point in the last year,” Tom says as he carefully enters the shack.
“Yeah, it does look like that,” Harry agrees, a little shocked by this unexpected outcome. “Voldemort framed Morfin for the murder of the Riddles in his sixth year and Morfin spent the rest of his life in Azkaban.”
“It looks like he tried to brew a potion of some sort and had a bit of an accident.” Tom crouches beside the remains.
“He’s still wearing the Peverell ring,” Harry points out because he can see the ring resting around a finger bone. “You should take it.”
Tom uses some magic to float the ring up and away from the remains and then cleans it with a few spells. “This is the resurrection stone, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Harry says, glad to see it being rescued before someone else might discover it. “It’s one of the Deathly Hallows. You can use it to summon the souls of the dead.”
Tom slips the ring around his own finger and looks at it critically. “The only problem is that I don’t know any dead people I would want to talk to.”
“You’re by no means obligated to use the bloody thing. Just keep it safe,” Harry says with an amused chuckle.
As they leave the shack, Tom says, “What about the locket you mentioned, that once belonged to Slytherin and that my mother sold.”
“I’m sure it’s still in Hepzibah Smith’s possession,” Harry says, feeling a unwelcome flush of nerves. “Voldemort killed her to get his hands on it.”
“I have no plans to do the poor woman in,” Tom says quickly, probably feeling Harry’s apprehension as well. “But I wonder if I cannot persuade her to part with it after all.”
“Persuade how?” Harry asks suspiciously. He knows Tom well enough to know that Tom does not shy away from using magic to get people to do his bidding. He might not be a Dark Lord in the making anymore, but he still has no problems with using people for his own gain.
“Persuade with an Imperius curse perhaps,” Tom says airily as they leave the overgrown property behind and find themselves back on the treelined country road.
“Tom, if you’re caught using an Unforgivable you’ll spend the rest of your life in Azkaban,” Harry says with a generous amount of obvious disappointment. “Is an old locket really worth risking your entire life for?”
“Perhaps not,” Tom concedes quietly. Then he frowns and at once he’s flush with excitement. “I’ll just have to invent my own version of the Imperius curse, one that doesn’t come with a life sentence.”
“That is…” Harry falls quiet, because that is actually not a bad plan. If the ministry doesn’t know the spell exists, they can’t prosecute someone for using it. “That’s actually quite ingenious, I’ll give you that.” And if someone is capable of inventing such a spell, it’s Tom.
“I’m glad you approve,” Tom says with a smug little smirk, even though Harry barely even did that. “I’ll get right on it.”
It takes Tom another year to create such a charm. He keeps participating in all the duels he can possibly sign up for, so he doesn’t have all that much time to spend on it, but he still manages it in the end.
He visits Hepzibah during a chilly December morning, just before his twentieth birthday. Tom casts the charm on both Hepzibah and the house-elf the moment he’s through the door. The charm he created is based on an overpowered compulsion charm. It’s a lot more subtle than the Imperious curse and it can’t be used to force people to do things they really don’t want to do. But it can convince them to make a certain decision they might otherwise not have made.
In this case, Tom uses it to persuade Hepzibah to sell Slytherin’s locket to him, after Tom tells the truth about his mother and how she was forced to sell it to survive. Tom ends up paying a mere pittance for it, which Hepzibah hardly notices thanks to the charm.
Tom starts wearing the locket immediately, though he keeps it tucked away under his shirt. “It was my mother’s,” Tom says when Harry asks him why he insists on wearing it. “This is the only thing I have of her.”
And that, Harry realizes, really is all the explanation one needs to understand why Tom would want to get that locket back in the end.
Tom spends another year or so on the duelling circuit but once he’s won just about anything there is to win and he’s proven to the whole world that he is one of the greatest duellist that has ever lived, Tom is ready to move on to something else. The Flamels, thankfully, are still more than willing to have him as their apprentice.
Nicholas and Perenelle are clever, eccentric and truly love magic in all its amazing facets. Tom’s apprenticeship with them doesn’t limit itself to one single subject, but bounces all over the place. One moment they urge Tom to dive into alchemy and the next moment they lecture him on the importance of traditional ward stones. Thanks to Tom’s vast intellect he has no problems keeping up with their eclectic curriculum. In fact, Tom seems to revel in their chaotic practices.
It takes Tom three years to obtain his Alchemy Mastery, his first of many masteries to follow. During those years, Tom also finally figured out how to fly without a broom, which instantly qualifies him for a Charms Mastery. While Voldemort only ever taught that charm to a few select followers, Tom has no problems publicizing the charm far and wide.
The Flying Charm takes a decent amount of power and concentration, but with enough practice most witches and wizards can master it. Soon the charm becomes so popular around the world that governments have to come up with special laws to make sure no one breaks the Statute of Secrecy while flying around the countryside.
The Flying Charm also leads to a whole new sport being invented, much to Harry’s delight. It’s called Float Ball, and it resembles a magical game of basketball played up in the air. Each team has five players and it quickly becomes popular around the world. Even Hogwarts starts offering it as an official sport, though Quidditch does remain the most popular sport in most countries.
“I can’t believe you gave the wizarding world a whole new sport!” Harry says in voice pitched high with sheer excitement.
Tom rolls his eyes in response. He doesn’t care a thing about sports of any kind, but Harry knows he is rather chuffed that a charm he created is used all over the world.
Dumbledore offers Tom an apprenticeship in Transfiguration and Slughorn quickly follows with a Potions apprenticeship. Tom accepts both and manages to keep up with the required studies without any issues. Tom’s muggle cottage finally gets some proper use now that Tom’s no longer travelling as much. Thanks to the Riddles’ monthly stipend Tom has enough to live off, since he’s quite frugal in his daily life. Plus several years of winning duelling tournaments has added a nice bit of gold to Tom’s vault so he’s got plenty saved up for a rainy day.
“Tom,” Harry says right around Tom’s twenty-fifth birthday. “I understand you’re not interested in sex and that’s fine. But I have noticed that you also don’t make any real effort to date anyone.”
Tom looks up from the old potions book he’s reading in his comfortable chair in the cottage’s sitting room. A fire is crackling in the hearth and on a side table sits a steaming cup of tea. Tom has built a wonderful life for himself, but Harry’s worried he perhaps spends a lot of time alone. “Why on earth should I want to date anyone?” Tom asks with a puzzled frown.
“I don’t want you to get lonely,” Harry whispers, knowing he might be coddling Tom a bit too much, but he can’t help it. He cares far too much for Tom to see him unhappy.
“I’m not lonely,” Tom says at once, shutting the book in his lap. “I’ve got you.”
“Sure,” Harry agrees quickly. “But I’m just a voice in your head, right? I’m not a potential partner to spend your life with.”
“Aren’t you?” Tom shifts in his chair and tilts his head in an almost daring way. “We spend all our time together, there are no secrets between us and I like you most of all the people I know.”
Harry falls quiet because that sounds like…well, like a relationship. “Tom…what are you really saying here?”
Tom’s smile is full of endless amounts of patience and affection. “I’m saying that I love you, Harry. Simple as that.”
They’ve never said those exact words between them. Harry’s never been good with emotions and while he has improved over the many years of his previous life, he’s always had trouble articulating that particular sentiment. He’s given Tom endless amounts of praise and affection and encouragement throughout his life, but he’s never said those words to him.
And now here Tom just slings them in Harry’s face.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” Tom says, gaze falling on his lap, hand stroking the book absently. “I understand, given your history with Voldemort, that you might not return these feelings.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Harry says quickly, interrupting Tom. “Of course I love you. But you have to consider the situation, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me. You hardly have a choice in this.”
Tom snorts as though Harry has just said something utterly ridiculous. “If I wanted you out of my head, I would have found a way to do it by now.” Tom sits up a little, squaring his shoulders as he stares into the flames. “Listen to me, Harry. You are the most important person to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
Harry’s overcome with a warm flush of affection, and dare he say it, love coming straight from Tom. “I feel the same way about you. I don’t want you to doubt that for one second.”
“Well then,” Tom says as he picks up his cup of tea, a victorious grin on his face. “Looks like we’re in a relationship.”
Harry needs time to process this. He always thought he was some sort of parent to Tom, even though his feelings for Tom were always different from the feelings he had for his children from his previous life. Harry always chalked that up to their unique situation, but is that even true?
“I could make you a body?” Tom offers completely out of the blue.
“What?” Harry’s so taken aback that he’s immediately surrounded by waves of confusion and shock.
“I’ve been considering it for a while,” Tom confesses, much to Harry’s genuine surprise. He’s certainly never mentioned it before. “If you want your own body, I’m sure I can create one for you.”
“Well,” Harry says and then falls quiet because he has no clue what else to say. “Wouldn’t that hurt you?”
“It might.” Tom shrugs and sips his tea.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Harry says at once, because that is honestly the last thing he wants to see happen. “And we don’t even know if it would work. I might pass on if you remove me from your body.”
“We’d have to figure out what you are exactly.” Tom places his cup down and inhales a deep breath. “I have a theory about that, actually, if you’re willing to listen.”
“Of course.” Harry has wondered about his own existence quite often over the years. He’s always assumed he’s an extra soul trapped in Tom’s body and that’s what he’s always told Tom as well.
“It’s possible that during the night that Voldemort attacked you, when you were a baby, he succeeded in killing Harry Potter.”
“Excuse me?” Harry asks, at once full of questions that he desperately needs answering.
Tom grins and nods his head. “Think about it. Voldemort hit Harry Potter with a killing curse. Baby Potter’s soul passes on. But at that exact same moment Voldemort’s soul splinters and sends a piece of it into the still living body.”
“Er…” Harry’s surrounded by cold realization that Tom might actually be right about this. “So you’re saying that I was never really Harry Potter to begin with. That I’ve always been a piece of Voldemort’s soul that developed independently into a whole new person.”
“Exactly.” Tom sounds utterly triumphant, obviously convinced he’s figured this mystery out. “And before you ask, the reason you lived and Voldemort died is because you were the Master of Death. You wished for Voldemort to pass on and so he did while you remained behind to pass on later.”
“I’m still not sure how I ended up in you then,” Harry says dubiously. It’s an interesting theory for sure, but it’s also a lot to take in on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
“Because you’ve always belonged to me, Harry. Yes, you’re an independent person now, but once we were part of the same person.” Tom’s really on a roll now, and he gets up and starts pacing the sitting room while he continues his explanation. “Let’s just say that what happens after death is reincarnation.”
“That’s a possibility,” Harry easily concedes, since he has no clue what happens aside from arriving at a misty train station.
“Well then,” Tom says with a conclusive wave of his arm. “We both passed on and then we both reincarnated into the same body, because we’ve always been the same person in the end.”
“I just kept my memories,” Harry muses because he can see how this theory might just be true. “It would certainly explain our unique situation quite clearly, wouldn’t it?” There’s one thing that Harry’s still confused about, though. “If you believe we were always the same person, then why are you offering me a body of my own.”
Tom sinks down in his chair again with a tired sigh. “I just want you to be happy, Harry. We might be the same in essence, but we’re still two individuals.”
“Do you want me to have a separate body?” Harry asks in a quiet voice, suddenly worried Tom might be growing sick of him after all.
“No,” Tom says at once, voice full of conviction. “I like you just where you are. This way you’re mine and mine alone. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you had a body.”
That is such a Tom thing to say, isn’t it? As possessive as that statement is, it still fills Harry with endless amounts of warmth. “Then I’ll gladly stay right here with you, Tom, where I belong.”
They both bask in a glow of sheer love and yeah, Harry can definitely see that they are in some sort of relationship now. They might have been the same person at one point (though Harry’s still not convinced that’s entirely true), but they are two individuals now who happen to love each other a great deal.
Over the next couple of weeks Harry tries to come to terms with the idea of being a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul all along. It doesn’t faze him nearly as much as he thought it would. If he’d discovered this as a teenager, when he was still actively opposing Voldemort, such news would have devastated him. But nowadays, Harry knows himself. He’s lived a very long and full life as a decently functioning human being with loving relationships. If he started life as a shard of Voldemort’s soul than he’s certainly come a very long way.
Though occasionally Harry feels a distant sort of guilt towards Ginny for her having inadvertently married a new and improved version of Tom Riddle. Ginny had never completely recovered from the horrific events of her first year and until the day Harry died she had the occasional nightmare or flashback. Knowing Harry was really a newly minted version of Tom Riddle would have crushed her.
But that relationship was in the past and whenever Harry feels guilt bubble up he reminds himself that he hadn’t known what he truly was and therefore it wasn’t his fault, period.
“The more I think about it,” Harry says one evening as Tom is charming the dishes clean after a simple homecooked meal. “The more I believe your theory about our shared soul might have merit. It doesn’t explain how and why I ended up in you with my memories intact, though.”
“I’ve been giving this some thought as well,” Tom replies as he levitates the cutlery into an opened drawer. “Another option is that Voldemort’s killing curse didn’t kill Harry Potter’s soul, but that Voldemort’s soul shard assimilated with it.”
“You mean, the soul piece merged with Harry’s soul and became something new entirely.” Harry has to admit that this sounds plausible enough.
“Yes. It explains perfectly why and how you ended up inside my mind with your memories intact,” Tom says with quiet confidence while he gets the kettle going with a quick charm.
“Because I am a combination of Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, I ended up reincarnated inside you, but because it’s not a perfect fit I somehow kept my memories.” Harry isn’t quite sure if that sounds feasible, but then again, it doesn’t sound exactly unfeasible either.
“It’s not a perfect theory,” Tom admits while he scoops a spoon of dried tealeaves into a cup. “But it’s the most plausible one we’ve got so far.”
Harry has to agree and he doesn’t object when Tom changes the subject. They will come back to that theory many times in the future but they will never find another theory that fits their situation better than the one they have now.
Within a few years Tom gets his Transfiguration Mastery by simplifying the Animagus transformation. He changes it from a months’ long ritual with tedious daily spells into a procedure that takes just about a month. It still requires a witch or wizard with above average strength and an innate talent for transfiguration, but it does open up the transformation for many more people than before.
Tom, of course, tests the whole thing out on himself and turns into a black fox, which is exactly what Harry’s Animagus form was in his previous life.
“How curious,” Tom says once he changes back. “I do believe it is a substantial piece of evidence that we are in fact made from the same soul, at least in part.”
“Yeah,” Harry readily admits, still full of warm affection that they turned out to have the same Animagus form. “I can’t argue with that.”
Not long after that Tom gets his Potions Mastery by inventing the Wolfsbane potion a few decades early. Harry had told him about its invention in the future, so Tom simply took that as a challenge and created his own version, which as far as Harry can see actually works better than the original version. There seems to be a lot less pain involved during the transformation.
Slughorn sings Tom’s praises to all who will listen, naturally, and Tom is hauled as the saviour who has found a way to protect the good citizens of the wizarding world from the vicious werewolves by simply taming the beasts through a potion. Tom rolls with it and uses the publicity to promote some other potions he’s invented. A few healing potions that soon are in high demand, and a wooden furniture wax that was the unexpected result of a failed experiment with bruise balm. Tom’s cauldron exploded, covering his entire wooden workbench in the potion, and giving it an amazing shine and patina.
There’s some good money to be made in marketing new potions and Tom’s vault gains plenty of gold during many years to come. Tom buys the cottage they live in outright and expands it both inside and out. He adds quite a few rooms, which he magically enlarges. The basement becomes a duelling area and the attic becomes a library large enough to get lost in. One of the added rooms becomes a state of the art potions lab.
Harry loves it there. It’s quiet and remote and there is a lot of beautiful countryside around them where they can take plenty of afternoon walks.
Tom’s next focus is on masteries in Runes and Arithmancy. He’s determined to become a Ward Master, one of the more challenging professions in the wizarding world, right up there with Curse-breaker.
Thanks to his prowess on the duelling stage, his contribution to Float Ball and his inventions, Tom’s name is known the world over and he receives small mountains of mail from all sorts of inquisitive people. Some want to sing his praises and others want to debate some academic subject with him. Tom ignores the mindless fans, but he always writes back to those willing to discuss academics with him.
Once Tom receives his title as Ward Master, Dumbledore invites him to help renew some of the ancient wards at Hogwarts. It’s a long and tedious project, but Tom loves every second of it and he’s paid very well for his work.
“Are you sure I cannot tempt you to come teach for a few years at least?” Dumbledore says with a charming smile while he and Tom are enjoying a cup of tea in the headmaster’s office.
Tom chuckles and slowly shakes his head. “As much as I love Hogwarts, Albus, I do believe I’m better suited for pursuing my own interests. There is still much I want to study.”
Dumbledore raises his bushy eyebrows. “Are you sure there is anything left you haven’t learned by now?”
“Not much,” Tom conceded with a crooked grin. “But there are still a few magical areas that I’ve left unexplored.”
Next on Tom’s agenda is Curse-breaking, just because it’s a challenge and Tom loves a good challenge. This is quickly followed by some Dark Arts. Harry isn’t worried by Tom’s new hobby because he can clearly see it’s mainly an academic interest and not something Tom plans on using in his daily life.
By deeply studying the Unforgivables for a few years, Tom manages to create a potion that counteracts the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, even on those victims that have been exposed to the point of insanity. Harry feels entirely choked up, clearly remembering poor Frank and Alice Longbottom and their vacant expressions. It’s a real relief to know that from then on such terrible consequences are no longer a reality.
It's the mid sixties when Tom has a bit of a meltdown in his office.
“I can’t find a thing!” Tom is looking for one particular letter from a Ward Master in Peru, but his office is a giant mess of parchment and scrolls and books and broken quills.
“Perhaps it’s time for an assistant, Tom,” Harry says with lots of quiet amusement. “Think about it. If you hire someone to look after your administration for you, you’ll have lots more time for your experiments.”
Tom places a small advertisement for an assistant in the Daily Prophet the very next day.
The first applicant to appear is a sullen witch by the name of Eileen Prince.
Harry goes cold with shock when she shows up at Tom’s doorstep. “That’s Snape’s mother. I don’t know why she’s calling herself Prince again, though. In my previous life I don’t think she ever divorced her muggle husband.”
Tom gives Eileen a charming smile and invites her into the dining room where he serves her a cup of tea. “Do tell me about yourself, Mrs Prince,” Tom says while looking at her with a keen gaze.
“It’s Ms Prince, actually,” Eileen says, barely meeting Tom’s eyes. “I’m in the process of divorcing my husband. I have a small son, Severus. He’s five.”
“You have to hire her, Tom,” Harry all but shouts in Tom’s head. “Her muggle husband was a right bastard. If she’s leaving him we have to help her.”
“Do you have a place to stay?” Tom asks with polite interest.
“I’m currently renting a room in the Three Broomsticks,” Eileen mumbles, clearly embarrassed about her lot in life.
“That won’t do.” Tom shakes his head and gives Eileen a resolute look. “There is another cottage available half a mile down the road from here. I’ll include it in your compensation, with the agreement that you not only assist me in my administration, but that you also function as my housekeeper. I’d much rather focus on my work than on dusting my furniture.”
“Agreed,” Eileen says at once with wide, hopeful eyes.
“I wonder what happened differently that made Eileen actually divorce Tobias Snape,” Harry wonders later that night when Tom’s getting ready for bed.
“Voldemort didn’t happen,” Tom points out and that makes Harry really stop and think about what that means for the wizarding world. There is a lot less prejudice against muggles and muggleborns for one. Oh, there are still plenty of purebloods who subscribe to blood prejudice, but mostly behind closed doors. Publicly there’s only the occasional political debate or opinion piece in the Daily Prophet but it’s all rather tame and lacks most of the vitriol that Harry remembers.
It probably helps that a public figure like Tom openly acknowledges that he’s a half-blood without a hint of shame. Tom always points out that it’s not the background of a witch or wizard that matters, but how they ultimately use their magic. Because magic, no matter where it comes from matters the most.
Yes, the more Harry thinks about it, the more it becomes clear that the lack of Voldemort has far more consequences than they initially thought. In Harry's previous life, Eileen was probably too afraid to return to the wizarding world with a half-blood child after a failed marriage with a muggle. But that’s obviously changed now.
Eileen brings her child to work with her, since he’s still too young for the local primary school. Severus is a skittish boy with an insatiable curiosity. Tom quickly picks up on this and starts giving the boy simple homework assignments. Severus already knows how to read and write and is happy to read whatever chapters Tom tells him to. Severus is studious and eager and laps up the quiet praise Tom gives him for a job well done.
And even after Severus starts going to the local primary school, he usually runs home to Tom’s cottage. After a brief greeting for his mother, he always seeks out Tom first thing for more magical assignments.
Harry is sure that Tom sees a lot of himself in Severus and he’s genuinely happy that Severus is getting the care and attention he deserves. He’s growing in leaps and bounds, both physically and mentally. He’s far more confident, for one, and he’s learning to control his emotions better through some of the meditation Tom teaches him as a precursor for Occlumency.
“I’m glad Severus is doing so much better,” Harry confesses one night in bed just as Tom is ready to turn off the lights. “But I’m sad he’ll miss out on a friendship with my mum. Especially with a lack of Death Eaters in Slytherin, I think their friendship might have lasted well into adulthood.”
“Perhaps,” Tom says vaguely and doesn’t say anything else.
Harry’s very surprised when Tom apparates them to Cokeworth a week later and knocks on the Evans’ door.
Harry’s mum is seven years old and listens with wide eyes as Tom explains the concept of magic to the family.
“The reason I’m here,” Tom explains once Mr and Mrs Evens have been convinced of magic’s existence. “Is that your daughter has exceptional accidental magic. I’m tutoring another child her age in learning the basics, including control, and I’d be more than happy to take on your daughter as well.”
“What about me?” an obviously disappointed Petunia asks. “Can I learn magic, too?”
“I’m afraid not,” Tom says as kindly as he can. “But it is entirely possible that one or more of your children ends up being magical. You do have that potential.”
Petunia gets a contemplative look on her face and Harry hopes for her sake that she’s able to accept her lot in life better this time and won’t end up a bitter, jealous woman.
And so every Saturday from then on Lily Evans joins Severus Snape in receiving lessons from Tom. The two children get on well together, especially because they are both more than eager to learn magical theory. Tom even lets them brew a few simple potions under his careful eye and it becomes clear very quickly that both Lily and Severus have a natural talent in that particular subject.
“Thank you,” Harry says for the umpteenth time after the children have gone home. “I don’t know why you did it, but I am so very grateful that you did it.”
Tom rolls his eyes as he sets about frying some sausages for dinner. “I did it because it makes you happy, you silly old man. Besides, Lily is a smart and powerful little witch. It is a real pleasure to teach her and Severus both.”
When a few years later it’s time for Severus and Lily to go to Hogwarts, they are changed children. Severus is confident and not easily riled up. Lily is equally as confident and passionate about every single aspect of magic.
It doesn’t surprise Harry in the least that both are sorted into Ravenclaw, much to Tom’s obvious pride. He keeps up a steady correspondence with his two pupils.
When Eileen asks for a day off six months later to visit Severus in the hospital wing, Tom accompanies her, wanting to know what landed Severus there in the first place. The letter Eileen received was quite vague on the matter.
As it turns out, four Gryffindor students tripped Severus at the top of the stairs, causing him to tumble down and break a few bones.
Tom is absolutely spitting mad and marches straight up to Dumbledore’s office.
“Tom, these kind of pranks happen,” Dumbledore says to try and calm his old friend.
“Do not placate me with such ridiculous claims,” Tom snarls as he paces Dumbledore’s office. “Four students against one resulting in broken bones goes far beyond a few harmless pranks. I will put a stop to this now. Let me talk to these students or I will personally contact all their families and take this all the way to the Wizengamot if I have to.”
Half an hour later Tom stands in front of four terrified Gryffindors. “My name is Tom Riddle. Do you know who I am?”
Sirius Black gulps. “You invented Float Ball.”
“You’re the greatest duellist in the world,” James Potter adds.
“And you invented the Wolfsbane Potion,” Remus Lupin whispers.
Peter Pettigrew tries to speak but only a squeak comes out.
“All that and much, much more.” Tom leans down and gives them a smile full of terrifying promises. “I can make your lives utterly miserable, starting right now. I will go to all of your families and demand compensation for the harm you’ve caused my ward. And after that I will do everything in my power to prevent all four of you from ever becoming lawfully employed in the wizarding world. Once I’m done with you, you’ll wish you could find a job shovelling hippogriff shit. Do you understand me?”
All four boys nod and stare up at Tom with pale faces.
“Swear to me you will leave Severus alone from now on,” Tom demands and he gets a variety of whispers in return all swearing exactly that.
“How come he’s your ward?” Sirius asks brazenly, though Harry can detect a hint of jealousy in his voice.
“Because his mother works for me and I helped raise the boy.” Tom gives them all a last glare before marching out of the room.
The young Marauders leave Severus alone after that, or at least never put him in the hospital again.
While Severus and Lily remain fast friends throughout their Hogwarts years, one thing doesn’t change.
“I can’t believe she’s going out with that toerag!” Severus snarls one Christmas holiday. “James Potter is an absolute pillock!”
“Severus, language!” Eileen calls from the kitchen.
Tom chuckles and gives Severus a look full of sympathy. “Perhaps the boy has matured a little.”
“I doubt it,” Severus says with an all too familiar sneer. He flops down on the sofa and releases a deep sigh.
“Did you at least ask out that boy you fancied, what’s his name?” Tom asks with a curious tilt of his head.
“Barty Crouch. And yes, I asked and he accepted. We’re going to Hogsmeade together after the holidays,” Severus says while resting his head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling in something close to despair.
“Perhaps you should focus on that rather than Lily’s questionable choice in men.”
“What is she thinking, honestly?” Severus rants on and Harry chuckles in Tom’s mind. Ah, the joy of teenagers.
Severus and Lily finish Hogwarts with a staggering amount of NEWTs between them and Tom offers them both a Potions apprenticeship which they eagerly accept. Thankfully their friendship survives Lily’s questionable choice in men, even after she marries James.
The Crouches aren’t nearly as enthused about their son’s choice in partners and Barty ends up running away from home in his seventh year. He lives in Eileen’s cottage, sharing a room with Severus when he isn’t in school. Since Barty’s special interest is wards, Tom offers him an apprenticeship as a Ward Master. Barty can barely hold back tears of gratitude as he accepts. It is a very generous offer, since Tom already has two other apprentices.
Lily becomes pregnant unexpectantly, though Harry was kind of waiting for it. She gives birth to a healthy baby boy named Harry James Potter.
“He’s delightful,” Tom says as he carefully holds his brand new godson. “Let’s hope he takes after you in personality, Lily.”
James rolls his eyes but he can’t stay offended for long, since he’s still bursting with joy at the birth of their son.
What does surprise Harry is when three years later, the Potters have another boy named Matthew, followed two years after that by a girl named Heather.
Watching his former self grow up with loving parents and two siblings is an exercise in happiness and longing. Harry is happy for his former self, but he also cannot help a feeling of longing he gets every now and then. This is what his life might have been without Voldemort. Then again, it does become clear quite quickly that this Harry is not the same individual as Harry was once upon a time, which leads Harry to believe that Tom’s theory of their merged souls probably is true.
Harry really is the product of two souls merging together, which means that without Voldemort he wouldn’t have existed as he is right now.
Some years later, after Tom’s apprentices all gain their Masteries and Harry suspects that Tom is growing a bit lonely, he points out the existence of Hermione Granger. A clever child with a talent for magic and in need of a bit of guidance.
Tom goes to talk to the Grangers and a week later Hermione comes to the cottage for the first of many lessons. Harry can also see positive changes with Hermione. She gains confidence and loses her need to always be the best. Instead she’s simply eager to learn, and once she’s off to Hogwarts, she also ends up in Ravenclaw.
After she finishes Hogwarts Tom offers her an apprenticeship in any subject she chooses. Hermione insists on Transfiguration, Runes and Arithmancy, and she eventually gains all three Masteries.
Harry Potter goes on to play Quidditch professionally for a decade or so before joining his father in the Auror Department. Tom offers him a Duelling apprenticeship right out of Hogwarts, which young Harry gratefully accepts. Once he graduates as an Auror he’s the best duellist of the department.
Eventually Tom tutors some of the children and grandchildren of his previous pupils, because as much as he denies it, he does enjoy some companionship from time to time and he’s a rather good teacher.
Eileen dies when she’s 105 years old. She remained Tom’s assistant until the very end.
“This is why I never tried to make a philosopher’s stone,” Tom says after the funeral, as he’s sitting alone at his kitchen table.
“You could have, if you’d put your mind to it,” Harry agrees quietly, voice full of silent grief.
“I’m sure of it.” Tom nods and stares out the window. “But what good is immortality if everyone around you dies. Look at Nicholas and Perenelle. They hardly live in the world anymore, lock themselves away from it out of fear of more loss and heartache.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Harry whispers, because he really, really is. This Tom is such a far cry from what Voldemort once was. “And I love you so very much.”
“I love you, too,” Tom says and gets up to make some tea.
They do lose friends over the years. Dumbledore, Slughorn, many of the academics Tom corresponds with. Then some of the younger generations start dying. Tom is beside himself with grief when Severus dies of a rare wasting disease at age 80. Tom spends weeks and weeks in his potions lab to find a cure but in the end the disease is faster than Tom’s old hands and the cure that Tom does find is five months too late.
Tom lives to the generous age of 151. They both feel that their life is coming to an end during their final weeks. Tom’s body is slowly giving up. Walking goes first, and then eating becomes difficult. The house-elf, Willy, that Tom hired a few decades ago to help out around the house looks after them in their final days.
They’re ready to die. They’ve lived a long, fruitful life. They’ve changed the wizarding world for the better. Tom’s affairs are in order and his last will has been written. His riches will be divided amongst those he cares for the most and their descendants.
There’s little pain, thanks to an array of potions Willy gives them at set intervals. There’s just bone-deep exhaustion. They’re ready for a good sleep after a very long, very happy day.
“I’m so glad I got to live this life with you, sweetheart,” Harry whispers in Tom’s mind.
Tom can barely keep his eyes open as they’re lying in their bed. “Me, too.”
Darkness starts to close in, drowning out the light of the flickering flames in the fireplace.
“I’m not afraid,” Tom says with his final breath.
“Neither am I,” Harry manages to whisper before the light leaves them completely. And he’s really not. Because he knows that wherever it is they’re going, they’ll go there together.
*
Tom wakes up in a tiny body and it takes him a few weeks to realize that this body belongs to a new-born Harry Potter.
“You’d better have kept your memories, too, this time around,” Tom says with a chuckle.
The end.