Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Master looks beautiful," Dobby said, charming the tiny gems attached to the strands of Harry's hair, willing them to shimmer brightly under the light streaming in from the large windows.

Harry smiled at Dobby as the elf continued fretting over his clothes, making sure everything was perfect. It was Harry's birthday, and he was getting ready for the party his parents had planned for him. Just the thought of another giant social event, with flashing camera lights, numerous photographers, and reporters from gossip magazines, soured Harry's mood.

The fuss about him casting a Patronus Charm had quietened, even though Dobby still had to burn a ton of mail sent to Harry by various lunatics. Tom kept most of that rubbish out of Harry's way, trying his best to shield him. Harry was grateful, even though he knew that if push came to shove, he would turn up at the international wizarding court or whatever it was called and give them a bloody good shove.

Dobby fastened the buttons on Harry's shirt and charmed his clothes so they wouldn't crease. Despite it being his birthday, Harry knew that watchful eyes would be at the event, and no doubt a few sharp tongues ready to gossip if he dared to look anything less than a walking advert for impeccable style.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry told the elf, rising to his feet and looking at himself in the mirror.

He had seen how pretty and captivating he looked more than a thousand times now, but it never stopped being odd and unnatural. His entire body looked like it was crafted from strands of solid magic, no wonder the other Harry had been so full of himself. Everyone else simply looked like ordinary mortals compared to his ethereal beauty.

Harry sighed and checked his watch. Tom was punctual, but if he didn't arrive imminently, they would be late. The past few weeks he'd been so busy, constantly away at work for long hours. Harry knew that him turning the Dementors into humans had created a lot of work for Tom, not to mention he had to deal with the international wizarding court on Harry's behalf, but the last couple of days Tom had become especially secretive.

At first, Harry's battle-hardened senses had gone on alert, suspecting something foul, but then he realised that Tom was trying to purchase some kind of birthday gift for him and thought he was being sneaky about it. He was terrible at it, though, as Harry found out so easily, but he didn't know what Tom wanted to get and didn't want to ruin the effort the man was putting in.

There was a quick knock on the door, then the door creaked and swung open. Harry's face lit up as soon as he saw Tom. Tom stared at him, his eyes running up and down Harry's slender form, and a small smirk curled the corners of his lips. Tom was so sweet and kind, but no matter, something about the way he looked at Harry made chills run down his spine.

"You look stunning, darling," Tom murmured, slowly shortening the distance between them. He wrapped his hands around Harry and held him gently for a second before inclining his head and kissing Harry on his forehead. "Happy birthday!"

With a flick of his fingers, a large flower bouquet appeared in his hands, and he handed it to Harry. Harry took them and buried his head in the petals. They smelled like soothing magic. He felt as if the worries he was feeling evaporated for a second. It was so like Tom to pick something pretty, but then for it also to be seeped in magic and charms.

"Thank you," he said. "I've never received flowers for my birthday before. It's nice."

"Dobby will put them in a vase for Master Harry," the elf who was still in the room with them said, popping by Harry's side and taking the flowers from him. He vanished instantly, leaving them alone.

"I am sorry that for the past several weeks I have been so preoccupied with my work at the Ministry that I haven't kept my promise to take you out," Tom said, reaching into his suit pocket and taking out something tiny that looked like a small enchanted box. "I know being in this manor is boring, so I hope you will like this little gift."

He pulled out a huge box from the tiny one, and Harry realised that the box must have been enchanted with an Extension Charm. Tom handed the large box with an excited look on his face. Harry dropped the box on the bed and unwrapped it. When he saw what was inside, his eyes widened in surprise, and he squeaked like a little kitten. It was a broom—the latest model, with a sleek, polished wooden handle and high-quality bristles crafted from magical plants, inscribed with runic protections. Harry's name was engraved on the shaft in golden lettering.

Harry jumped up like an excited child and hugged Tom.

"Thank you, thank you," he shouted. "This is the best broom ever."

"I saw how happy you looked flying in your memories," Tom said softly, patting Harry's head and definitely dislodging some of those precious gems.

Harry's stomach fluttered. Merlin, it was so surreal to have a husband, especially one as good-looking and attentive as Tom. Harry felt like he'd skipped several steps in how one would get into a relationship and wasn't really sure at what stage he was with Tom. He went on tiptoes and kissed Tom. The moment their lips touched, he felt Tom's arms around him, soft, gentle, holding Harry as if he could break. Harry felt like his insides could turn into liquid at any second.

When they broke the kiss, Tom smiled at him and reached into the inner pocket of his suit again. He pulled out another small box. This one seemed ordinary, with a cute bow on top. He handed it to Harry, brushing strands of hair off Harry's forehead.

"I don't need so many presents," Harry said, feeling like Tom was trying to pamper him, which felt strange because he associated many presents with Dudley's birthdays, not his.

"You deserve far more, sweetheart," Tom said smoothly. "The first one, though, is what I wanted to get for you, and this one is simply what is expected of me to give you."

Harry had no idea what that meant. Opening the box, he found a pretty snake brooch nestled inside. Numerous pins and brooches decorated his collection, often adorning the lapels of his jackets, robes, or sometimes even ties. Usually, Dobby chose his accessories since Harry lacked any sense of fashion. They all were beautiful but paled in comparison to this one. Encrusted with shimmering emeralds, the brooch was both delicate and eye-catching. Likely, it cost more than his broom, despite being a tiny trinket.

"It's pretty," he admitted.

Tom took it out of the box and pinned it on Harry's jacket. Harry looked down at the brooch, then looked up at Tom and smiled.

"Let's go," Tom said, offering his hand. "We can't be late for your own party."

Harry held Tom's arm but groaned, remembering that he'd have to put up with so many people approaching him, wishing him a happy birthday, handing him gifts, and engaging in endless small talk just to be polite. At least the birthday party would be a change of scenery, since he'd been stuck at home for the past few weeks.

They walked into the drawing room, stepped into the fireplace, and were transported straight to Potter Manor. Tom reached out and brushed away any specks of stray Floo powder from Harry's robes as they headed into the ballroom. There were already so many people gathered. Harry even caught sight of his elusive grandparents, who lived in France and visited rarely. They were holding glasses of Parchingswine and engaged in a conversation with people Harry didn't recognise, but from their smug expressions and prim postures, they were definitely important or something.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Harry heard his name called from all sides as people hurried to wish him many happy returns. Tom's hand on his back pressed closer, and Harry felt his soothing warmth as he forced a smile and nodded at numerous faces he hadn't seen before.

They walked through the crowd, under the soft music played by a choir of musicians on their magical instruments. Harry caught his mum's eye, and her face immediately broke into a giant, happy smile.

"Look at you," she exclaimed, making her way to Harry, the hems of her pretty dress ebbing and flowing like waves of the sea, as if enchanted with the light of bright stars. "You're stunning, as always. Happy birthday, my sweet child."

She cradled Harry in her arms, peppering soft kisses on the top of his head and cheeks. Harry smelled the scent of her strawberry lipstick and the fresh parfum of lilies. He melted into her arms, completely forgetting about the crowd of people, only for the blinding light of flashing cameras to wrench him back to his senses and remind him that his birthday was a high society affair and not a cosy family gathering.

"Thank you, Mum," Harry murmured, even though this woman wasn't the one who had given birth to him. Harry felt like she had the same pure soul as his own mother from his world. "Thank you for bringing me into this world."

"It was the happiest day of my life, baby," she said, gently brushing back his hair.

Harry's heart ached for her, and he reached out and hugged his mother. His real son was dead, and Harry hadn't even found out who had killed him.

"I must thank you too, Lady Potter," Tom said, as if sensing Harry's heartache and unease. She lifted her head and craned her neck to smile at Tom, who returned her the most charming smile ever. "Thank you for giving life to this little monster. I promise he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

Harry noticed the way his mother's countenance knitted in surprise, her lips parted, and a rush of air escaped from her lungs as she stared at Tom, then she smiled happily, and her eyes wandered to Harry with a knowing, coy look in her eyes.

"It warms my heart to hear that, Tom," she said softly. "And I've told you to cast the formalities aside. You're family."

A bright burst of laughter erupted from the corner, immediately capturing everyone's attention. The loud, ringing sound, clear like metal against crystal, spread throughout the grand ballroom. Harry tilted his head in that direction and was surprised to see a group of strangers, who were throwing beautifully wrapped boxes into a large vessel. They must have been gifts for Harry. The gifts sparkled and flew up, disappearing in the magical enchantment.

His mother clapped, excitement seeping back into her eyes. "We didn't want last year's incident to happen again," she explained, but Harry had no idea what she was talking about. "The gift basin has been enchanted with an expansion spell. Otherwise, like last year, either the table would break or the guests would need to place the gifts on all sorts of surfaces."

Harry shuddered. The other Harry had been spoiled rotten. He made an awkward face, hoping it resembled a smile.

"Harry!" Hearing his name, Harry shut his eyes in dread. He knew that voice. "Merlin, I was beginning to think you'd decided that birthday parties are no longer fun."

"Malfoy," Harry said, gritting his teeth and turning around.

"I will go greet Narcissa," his mother said, kissing Harry on the cheek and leaving for Narcissa Malfoy, who was hanging on her husband's arm and looking around, clearly trying to spot Lily.

Malfoy grabbed Harry and hugged him as if he'd been given some kind of permission slip to manhandle him. Harry didn't care if they were cousins, or if their mums were best friends, or if he grew up pissing in Lucius's lap; he didn't fancy Malfoy's bloody hands on him. But before he could pry himself free, Tom's hands neatly removed Malfoy and set him straight.

The blonde idiot stared at Tom as if he'd grown a second head and an extra eye on top of his forehead.

"Let's not overwhelm Harry today," Tom said politely, but somewhat curtly.

Malfoy's jaw clenched, but he leaned back, away from Tom. Tom, in turn, reached over and wrapped his hand around Harry as if staking a claim. Harry rolled his eyes and stared at Malfoy expectantly.

"Happy birthday, Potter," Malfoy said, pulling a small box from his pocket.

Why couldn't he just toss his gift into the fire like the rest of these bastards? Harry wasn't in the mood to pretend to care about a present, and there were still so many hours of this nonsense to endure.

"Thanks, Malfoy," he said, snatching the box. "You didn't need to."

Malfoy laughed. "Sorry, I've been ignoring you, haven't I?" Harry didn't want to know what not ignoring looked like in Malfoy's book, because the git was already all up in Harry's business as it was—a little more, and he'd see Malfoy's balls. "With everything that's been going on in the Ministry, I've been busy. So much bloody paperwork."

"Right," Harry nodded, unconvinced that the ferret was doing any real work in any universe. "I'm sure the Aurors wouldn't manage without you and your input."

Malfoy seemed to take his words as a compliment because his smug grin grew more confident, which should have broken some arithmetic rule of finitude. Harry didn't know and never cared to know.

"That is certainly true," Tom suddenly interjected, adjusting his grip on Harry as if worried Draco would go for another hug. Harry tilted his head and saw Tom staring at Malfoy with an unusually cold expression in his eyes. It was almost like he was trying to read something in Malfoy's mind without the use of Legilimency. "Draco has been working very hard."

Harry stared back at Malfoy. The git must have been thick because Riddle wasn't being nice, but he didn't even notice.

"Thank you, Tom," he said. "With all these criminals running around, wrecking havoc, I'm glad my work is appreciated."

"Harry, Morgana's tits, we thought we'd never see you," Pansy Parkinson's excited shout made all three of them turn around to a group of three girls—the other Harry's close friends. Pansy, dressed in a gown with sparkling feathers, had Ginny and Lavender on both sides. They were both dolled up in extravagant outfits too, but only Ginny looked good.

"I'll go greet them," Harry told Tom.

"Can I have the first dance with you?" Malfoy bawled after him, and Harry rolled his eyes.

Pansy hugged him and pecked his cheek with a quick kiss, then the other girls, and Harry awkwardly returned the gesture, even though this wasn't the norm between him and his own friends.

"You look fucking hot, Potter," Lavender smirked, fixing the brooch on Harry's lapel. "We've missed you, you know?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, shuffling about with them to grab a drink from a tray that an elf was floating near. His eyes fell on Tom, who was having a conversation with Malfoy. He smiled at Harry when he caught him staring, and Harry smiled back. "It's been a very eventful few weeks."

"We've heard," Pansy said, wiggling her shoulders meaningfully. "You've been using those Lurne charms, turning Dementors into humans. Everyone's been gossiping about it, even my mum's hairdresser."

"Your mum's hairdresser gossips about everyone," Lavender snorted. "What do you mean by even?"

The girls looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Sorry we couldn't come to the Midsumor party," Pansy said, playing with a strand of her hair. "Family holidays and all that."

"Me too," Lavender said. "But Ginny here says it was amazing. If it was up to me, I would've been there. So, how are you holding up? The Minister for Magic seems to have tightened that leash on you."

"Can't blame the man, when Potter here looks like he's trying to give us a brain aneurysm with how sexy he looks," Pansy smirked. "I know what I'd do."

These girls! They were hornier than bloody wild rabbits in spring.

"I'm fine, girls," he said, biting his tongue. They seemed to genuinely care about him, even though they were a feral bunch. "The Patronus thing was an accident, but it has caused a lot of problems, so Tom didn't want me to be in public all by myself, considering that many people were trying to get to me."

"Sounds like a nightmare," Lavender said, taking another flute of drink and gulping it down. "So, you're on a first-name basis with Riddle now?"

"Yeah," Pansy agreed. "Is he in now? Are we supposed to be nice to him now?"

That sounded like Tom was some kind of fashion trend, like a handbag that was now fashionable to carry around, and Harry was the authority on all things fashionable. To these girls, that's how these things worked.

"Ginny is dating Longbottom," Lavender added, adjusting her breasts with one hand while holding a new glass with the other. It seemed she wanted to get drunk as fast as possible. "Should I go for one of the Weasleys? I don't know which one isn't married yet. Ginny, which one of your brothers is available for a little tumble? Or maybe Harry can set me up with his hubby's secretary, Crouch Jr. That crazy look in his eyes tells me there'll be a wild night with him. Mhm!"

"He's the undersecretary, which is totally different from a secretary," Pansy corrected. "And take it easy on the alcohol, Lav. At this rate, you'll try to shag Riddle's actual secretary, and well, that's Granger."

Lavender's eyes travelled through the crowd. "I mean, she's not bad-looking," she said with a playful grin. "But I want Crouch Jr. Secretary, undersecretary, I don't care as long as it's under me."

Okay, that was too much information for Harry's innocent ears. He could feel his cheeks heating up just hearing them talk like that. Ginny was blushing too.

"Look at that bitch," Pansy's tone came out indignant, and the sudden change in tone and her sour expression made Harry turn around to see who she was glaring at. "What is she doing here?"

It was Daphne Greengrass hanging from Gellert's arm for dear life. This was Harry's bloody birthday. Why was Gellert even here? Did his mum invite them, or did they just show up?

"It looks like Gellert here is trying to make you jealous," Lavender scoffed. "Bringing that skank to your birthday is low, though."

"The way she's hanging onto him, you'd think she can't walk on her own," Pansy added, folding her arms. "Morgana's tits! Attention-seeking cow."

"Harry, do you want us to say something to her?" Ginny asked, speaking for the first time.

"No, leave them be," Harry replied with a smile. He didn't want unnecessary drama. He already had plenty of that without going around looking for more.

They all nodded and continued drinking. It hadn't even been twenty minutes, and Harry was already exhausted.

Soon, all kinds of people approached him to wish him a happy birthday. Some handed him their gifts personally, which he quickly passed off to the house-elves. There were also numerous requests to dance, which Harry declined, claiming he still had many more people to greet. It was a chore, and Harry wondered if the other Harry actually enjoyed this, or merely tolerated it, like him.

His eyes glazed over as he listened to someone discussing a new shade of Floo Powder that made your robes shimmer. The music, chatter, and noise were morphing into a single note in his head. He searched for Tom in the crowd, but some old man was hogging all his attention. Even though Tom was all charm and smiles, Harry could tell he was irritated by whatever nonsense was coming out of the old man's gob.

Well, at least Harry wasn't the only one miserable.

The notes of music being played transformed into butterflies as the sound left the strings of the instruments and flew above the dancers. The magic made everyone stare up in amazement. Harry's companions chatting in his ear were distracted too, so he excused himself and tried to make his way to Tom.

"Potter's definitely pregnant," Daphne's hushed voice stopped Harry's movement. "I'm telling you, he's pregnant."

She wasn't with Gellert anymore; instead, she was huddled in the corner by the giant flower garlands, a glass of Firewhisky in her hand, talking to a woman Harry had never seen before—clearly gossiping about him, and with such enthusiasm too. It seemed Harry's birthday was the perfect occasion for such mental exercise.

"Are you sure, Daphne?" the woman asked, licking her lips eagerly, her eyes sweeping over the crowd, clearly making sure no one was paying attention. "Because you know I can't risk my career and publish an article about it if it's false. You know what happened to Skeeter."

"I'm sure," Daphne said with a coy giggle. "I have it on good authority that he's pregnant. He probably doesn't want anyone to know, since he probably still hopes Gellert will take him back."

"If I'm going to risk my neck and incur the Potters' and Riddle's wrath, I'll need a bit more than that scoop. Who's your source?"

Daphne smirked and covered her mouth with her palm coquettishly. "Because I know he's taken Fecundity Potion like, several weeks ago, during the Ministry party."

"How do you know?"

"I gave it to him," she said, giggling. "Well, Nott did, but don't tell anyone that part."

The woman's face turned into a pale shade of blue, like she was horrified. Clearly, Daphne was drunk, confessing her crimes proudly and confidently.

"Are you crazy, Daph?" she said, pulling her away deeper into the corner. "Was this after the orphanage attack?"

"No, before," Daphne replied. "That's why I know Skeeter wasn't lying about the pregnancy. Clearly, that whore wants to steal Gellert from me. He's never satisfied with what he has. No matter who I've tried dating, Potter has slept with them."

Harry stood there, frozen, listening to their hushed conversation while they seemed not to have noticed him. He didn't dare turn towards them completely, even though they were whispering in low tones now, and Harry couldn't quite make out what they were saying anymore.

So that's what Nott had put in his drink? Fuck! Then why did the other Harry die? A panicked thought that he might have been pregnant flashed through his mind before he remembered that he hadn't slept with anyone, and his counterpart had died before he could. What was wrong with Greengrass spiking drinks with potions meant to permit magical pregnancies?

"Harry!" Harry was wrenched out of his panicked thoughts by Sirius's excited voice, and before he could react, his godfather lifted him off his feet and twirled him around with ease. Harry was so startled he let out an undignified yelp. "Merlin, your godfather has missed you to pieces, and we couldn't even spend proper time together since my return."

"Sirius," Harry laughed as the man finally set him back on the ground. "I've missed you, too."

"Happy birthday, Harry," Remus, whom Harry hadn't noticed approaching, said, hugging him as well, then glared at Sirius. "You must forgive us. We hoped to take you out for a proper outing, but with everything that's happened, James didn't want to risk it."

"But I still have all your gifts brought here," Sirius announced. "Though I have a special gift for your birthday."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Harry said with a smile.

"Sirius has brought the Chudley Cannons, one of your favourites, and a team he's recently invested in, to play a match here on your parents' Quidditch pitch for your birthday."

Harry's mouth dropped open. His stomach gave a little jolt. What? The other Harry was definitely more spoiled than Dudley could ever dream of to be. The birthday party and numerous expensive gifts were one thing, but bringing a whole professional Quidditch team to play a game for Harry's entertainment on his birthday was spoiled rotten levels of gift.

"You have a Quidditch team of your own?" he only managed to ask, not quite sure why Sirius would have his own Quidditch team.

"He called it the Canilupe Howlers," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"What's wrong with the name?" Sirius demanded. "It's a fitting name. We even have a werewolf on the team. Anyway, since I've put some good money into their training and brooms, they've been winning matches left and right. I'd even say we have a chance at the league cup this year."

Harry couldn't contain his excitement. "Do you think I could join the team?"

Sirius stared at him surprised but nodded. "Anything you want, Harry," he said, reaching out and patting Harry on the head.

"Don't give in so easily, Sirius," James Potter's cheerful voice made everyone turn their heads towards him. He was with Lily, and to Harry's utter confusion, Snape. Snape looked as if someone had made him drink a pint of rotten lemonade before allowing him to show his face here. "Harry, my angel, don't take advantage of your godfather's love for you. It's a professional Quidditch team. You can't join just to have fun for a few days."

Harry would gladly curse this imposter of James Potter if he could get away with it. Everyone laughed as if the man had made a funny joke, except Snape, who still looked as irritated as Harry remembered, except this Snape had clean, expensive robes, and his hair was shiny and well-kept.

"I wouldn't call it taking advantage when Black is so obviously offering," Snape sneered. "But if it causes any difficulties for Black for Harry to join his Quidditch team, I can certainly organise one myself, where he can be captain, seeker, and whatever else he fancies."

Harry's eyebrows tried to jump to his forehead.

"Sev," Lily laughed, holding his arm. "Don't put ideas into his head."

"Snape is clearly jealous that Harry loves his godfather Sirius more," Sirius said, placing his hand around Harry's shoulder and pulling him closer. "Isn't that right, my little treasure? We always go to watch Quidditch together."

Snape rolled his eyes and scoffed again. What the actual fuck was happening? Harry was confused.

"With the amount of free time you have," Snape said, staring at Sirius with disgust. "I'd say it's not surprising, but some of us have work to do."

"Lily, tell your cousin to shut his gob before I punch him," Sirius said.

Snape reached for his wand, but Lily stopped him.

"Both of you, calm down," she ordered. "It's Harry's birthday. Please, for the sake of my baby, stop these petty toddler fights. You both love Harry, and he loves you both."

"It's that Snape is bitter that I'm the godfather, and he isn't," Sirius said, laughing.

"Sirius," Lily admonished him, then turned and wrestled the wand out of Snape's hand. "Sev, stop this, or I'll tell mum."

Okay, now Harry was even more confused.

"As much as I enjoy everyone being so eager to draw wands and fight," James, who was watching the exchange with a smug grin on his face, interjected, "we need to go to the special hall for the tournament I've organised for Harry's birthday. And afterwards, we can enjoy a game of Quidditch."

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"Tom," Harry ran up to him, finally getting away from all the bloody people. "Merlin, I feel as if a herd of hippogriffs have stomped all over me."

Tom laughed but reached out and wrapped his arms around Harry sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he murmured, gently stroking Harry's hair. "Mr Woolspear felt it was important I knew his opinion on the registration policies for the Magical Library access."

"It looks like people are forgetting this is my birthday party, not a bloody political networking event," Harry sighed.

"It would have been a trying-to-court Harry Potter event, were you not already spoken for and taken," Tom said proudly, making Harry's heart flutter.

"I wish we could have spent the day by ourselves," he said softly as they made their way down the stairs, heading outside into the vast Potter Manor grounds.

"I would have loved that too, darling," Tom murmured. "Unfortunately, we have to endure this, but fortunately there will be some very exciting games to watch. Your parents usually spare no expense for these competitions, and the grand prize is usually so lavish and enormous that many travel here hoping to take part."

"So what is it like a Triwizard Tournament but for adults and for my birthday?" Harry asked incredulously.

Tom nodded, tightening his grip around Harry's waist when he almost stumbled down, missing a step.

"No wonder your ex was so spoiled," Harry shook his head. "Sirius has brought two bloody Quidditch teams here so they can play on my birthday. Can you imagine that? Fuck my life, and I would have been happy with a sock that didn't have a hole in it. And everyone was even fighting over who gives me the best gifts. It was pretty weird. Actually, I have a question. Do you know Snape? Like, who is he to me?"

Tom tilted his head to look at Harry, confused, before he responded. "You didn't have a Severus Snape in your world?" he asked.

"I did," Harry chuckled. "He was my Potions Professor at Hogwarts."

"I see," Tom said with a smile. "He's your mother's cousin, well, not related. But after his parents died, he was adopted by your grandfather's sister. He's very close with your mother. I'd say he's a strange man, though. Your father hates him."

Tom laughed at the last remark, as if the idea of James Potter being cross with his wife's relative was amusing.

"Well," Harry sniffed, burrowing closer into Tom's arm. "In my world, he had a thing for my mum."

"Well, then I guess that hasn't changed, and your father must sense it," Tom grinned.

Harry shook his head. They reached the ground floor and left the castle for the outside, but still had to walk along the cobbled path to the Quidditch pitch where the competitions were to take place.

A gentle breeze drifted around, dancing with the leaves and petals of the flowers. The sun was high in the sky, and it was a clear day. Harry was surprised by the lack of clouds, but he counted his blessings where he could. The occasional flash of a camera didn't even bother him any more, but with each set of peering eyes, Tom's grip on his waist grew just a little tighter.

They walked along the cobbled path, the pebbles creaking under their feet, until they left the hedge maze of flowering bushes and entered a large courtyard with hoops floating in the air. Several elves were bringing in and setting up things in the arena as the guests took their seats in the stands. There were no special boxes, but all of these seats had the finest cushions and upholstery, suspended in the air by magic.

The stairs up and down were made of glossy red stone that clicked beneath their steps as they made their way down. Harry wanted to sit closer to the stage, as he had been practically nearsighted all his life, and it had become a small habit to try to sit closer to the telly or hold the book close to his face. The Dursleys were never interested in getting him proper glasses.

"Mr Riddle, may I just say..." some old man stopped them, reaching out and holding Tom's hand.

"I'll go sit down," Harry told him with a smile. He had heard enough politics today to tolerate a few more minutes.

Tom nodded, with a pinched expression on his face, clearly unhappy that he had to leave Harry's side again to entertain some old codger. Sometimes Tom looked like he hated being the Minister for Magic, and it amused the spiteful, little demon inside Harry.

The magical barrier was being set by a man with the longest braided beard Harry had ever seen. They were separating the arena from the spectators, which meant they expected some crazy shit to happen there. Harry took out his wand, just in case these lunatics managed to break the barrier and some horrid spell flew his way.

He felt a pair of eyes staring into him, and when he turned his head, he saw Gellert watching him as if Harry owed him something. This drama was getting a bit old for Harry, so he hoped he wouldn't have to resort to using his wand against the git. Besides, Greengrass was at his side, so he probably should have paid attention to the crazy witch. The daft cow was out of control and had essentially assaulted the other Harry in a way, by giving him a potion that permitted pregnancy, which in Harry's case would have meant a lot of horror and shit. He'd deal with her later, though.

Harry stepped down the stairs, only glancing at Greengrass and Grindelwald for a brief second, but before he could even place his foot on the next step, he felt a strong shove in his back. When he turned around, he saw Greengrass's angry red face. Harry stumbled, waving his hands to hold onto something, but there was nothing. His legs twisted, and he toppled into the arena.

There was a loud scream, and people murmured in horror. Before he even realised it, he was lying on the green grass several metres below where he had been a second earlier.

"Merlin's beard! Get him out," someone shouted, furiously waving their hand towards Harry, as several people who seemed to be in charge of the competition rushed towards him. Harry groaned in pain and managed to lift his head, realising then that the panic wasn't just because he'd fallen into the arena for some pretty dangerous games but also because the magical barrier was sealing him inside, and he wouldn't be able to leave.

He patted around himself to locate his wand and get the hell out of there, but then, with horror, he realised he'd dropped his wand in his attempt to hold onto something when he was flailing his arms after that idiot pushed him down.

Fuck!

The barrier sealed shut, forcing all the wizards rushing to rescue him to be flung backwards. They were sent tumbling and fell like flies trying to pass through a pane of glass. Harry's gaze swept over the panicked crowd, and his eyes locked with Tom's. Tom was descending the stairs quickly, wand held high in the air, murmuring something under his breath.

"Harry," he heard Tom's voice calling him, but then he turned to the people on the ground, trying to collect themselves. "Get him out of there, undo the enchantments."

"We can't," the man with the beard said. "The enchantment will not be undone until the person who enters the competition loses or wins."

Okay, that was some Goblet of Fire bullshit. Harry didn't sign up for this rubbish on his birthday, no less. He saw his panicked godfathers and his parents all heading towards him. Rubbing his face, he got to his feet. His wand wasn't in his possession, but he wasn't too bad with wandless magic.

In the centre of the field, there was a small column that shimmered, magic creeping out in long bursts like vines of a poisonous plant, growing darker, like soulless shadows left behind from old spells. Harry felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, watching, his body leaning forward, ready to defend himself.

The magic became like a swirl of storm. People in the stands all on their feet, watching Harry with fascination as they waited with bated breath. The column exploded, and then a giant creature sprang out. It was monstrous, with the body of a serpent. It had multiple heads, all swarming one another and coiling their bodies in rage. The head in the middle had a strange feathery crown of lush purple plumage, which slowly dispersed down its long body and became more skeletal and harsh—the deep purple hue morphing into a rusty grey. The other heads had spikes and strange bone growths on their skulls that spread down their bodies.

The monster hissed loudly, making Harry close his eyes. Not snakes again. Bugger!

The three-headed snake opened its gaping jaw again, and this time breathed a puff of purple smoke. The smoke spread over the grass, causing it to wilt and then turn into rot instantly. It glared at Harry then and slithered towards him. Harry ran. The loud noise coming from the crowd didn't distract him, and he tried not to look at the audience, worried that if he caught Tom's eye he'd be too distracted to dodge the creature.

It crept through the surface of the leaves, leaving ghastly rot behind as the venom dripped from its fangs and slitted tongue. Harry ran across the field, hopped on the wall of the barrier, and used his acceleration to climb up before jumping down. That was enough to confuse the creature, as it coiled on itself and its monstrous heads bumped against the side of the metal hoops, raising into the sky.

Tom was by the barrier, his wand pointed at the enchantments, trying to undo them. He had made a habit of trying to free Harry from all kinds of magical confinements at this point, but the real problem was how the fuck Harry was finding himself stuck in these bloody stupid situations.

When Harry fell, the small snake brooch Tom had given him as a birthday gift fell onto the ground, too. He grabbed it and remembered what the other Harry's Alluran blood could do. He grabbed the pin and pricked his finger. The blood poured onto the soil and onto the snake brooch. Harry allowed the tendrils of his magic to seep slowly from him and touch his blood. The moment it did, the brooch snake started shaking, vibrating with strange force, then grew larger and larger; the eyes popped out, the tail wiggled, and the head craned, slowly towards the creature that had found its footing and was charging at Harry.

The brooch snake instantly bobbed its head and attacked the creature, biting one of the heads. Hissing and spitting, the two creatures wrapped around one another, choking each other. Harry palmed his chest, trying to take a breath, and then, when he managed to finally look at the crowd, they were all silent, staring at the fight as if they had never seen anything like it before. Well, they'd better be entertained. This was one of Harry's best performances so far.

"Get away from it, Harry," Tom called. "Keep it away as long as you can. I'm almost done."

He sounded a strange mix between being terrified and oddly fascinated. Harry knew that Riddle was probably enjoying the fight between the creatures but was also worried about Harry. And for a good reason, because the three-headed monster was winning that fight against the creature Harry had conjured with his blood. And once it was over, Harry was next.

He ran towards the sides where the hedges were still inside the barriers and picked up twigs, branches, and flowers. He let his blood transform them too; the flowers into flying creatures that rained down towards the monster, and the branches into eels. There were gasps, murmurs, and even more camera flashes than Harry could count. Harry wasn't silencing the gossip about his abilities any time soon.

Sirius, Remus, and his dad were staring with their jaws open; clearly, they weren't expecting a repeat performance after the whole Dementor incident. Harry wasn't sure he liked how amazed everyone seemed to be.

The flying creatures' damage was minimal, and when the three-headed monster ripped apart the snake's head and lunged towards Harry, they couldn't stop it.

"Ascendio," Harry murmured, lifting himself into the air and dodging the snap of the creature's jaw.

He didn't know how to levitate in the air with the Ascendio spell, so as soon as he was propelled up, he descended right after. He used a modified Arresto Momentum charm to slow himself down so he wouldn't be injured from the impact. The creature's giant spikes shot out and flew towards him. Harry raised a shield. The spikes hit the shield and fell to the ground. The creature launched itself at Harry again, managing to trip him.

"Fuck," he cursed. That probably scandalised a few more ears than he had managed to scandalise with his monster duelling skills.

The barrier cracked. Tom must have used something dark and crazy to make a dent in it, but it was still holding up. Harry grabbed one of the spikes and sent it flying towards the creature. It got stuck in its head but didn't stop it from reaching Harry. When it opened its mouth, Harry felt magic burn in his hands as the Sword of Gryffindor appeared in his palms. He swung it and cut off the creature's head. It fell to the ground, and the others hissed at him.

The noise from the audience was deafening now, and he could no longer hear anything else. It had become a single, overwhelming sound. As the heads rolled down with Harry holding the bloody sword, the headless monster's body trembled, and a new head sprouted in the gap.

"Not this," Harry gritted his teeth and pierced the sword into the head again. When he pulled it out, the blood poured down onto the ground, making the rot spread everywhere.

The barrier shattered, and Tom rushed towards him. The other men and women who were meant to be in charge of this competition moved towards him at first but stopped, frozen in their tracks when they realised there was a giant monster in the middle of the field that seemingly couldn't be killed.

"Stop it," Tom hissed across the field in Parseltongue. "I command you to freeze and lie on the ground."

The three-headed snake fell down like a puppet. The silence from the hundreds of people in the audience told Harry that none of them knew that the Minister for Magic was a Parselmouth. He probably hadn't revealed it to anyone, and now, to save Harry, he had spoken, revealing it to everyone.

"Harry," Tom wrapped his hands around Harry. "Are you okay? As always, you manage to be in the centre of attention, and while my ex was doing it with his scandals, you're doing it by giving me a bloody heart attack."

"Tom," Harry hugged him back. "I think you traumatised everyone more than I did, showing off being a Parselmouth. Now they're going to ask questions."

"I don't care," Tom murmured, checking Harry up and down like a fragile, precious trinket that could scratch or break easily. "I can't leave you for a second before you get yourself into some life-threatening situation."

He heard his name called from all sides, people looking shocked, confused, stunned, startled, and relieved. Tom wrapped his hand around Harry and led him out of the field towards the cobbled path.

"Harry, are you alright?" Gellert asked, stepping into their path as Daphne hurried after him, looking as if she'd swallowed a whole frog and had its guts stuck in her throat. Gellert's worried expression and the way he subtly moved his hand away from Daphne, trying to hold his own, suggested he wasn't entirely in favour of tripping Harry from the stands.

He was holding Harry's wand, one of the many he'd acquired over the past few weeks, which kept burning whenever he exerted a bit more force. Tom reached out and snatched the wand.

"Fuck off, Grindelwald," he said. "Stay away from my husband. It's none of your business how he feels."

Grindelwald looked like he wanted to murder Riddle, and judging from Tom's face, the feeling was mutual. What the bloody fuck were they acting like Harry was their favourite toy they couldn't share? Harry would have butted in, but it was a bit amusing. He'd seen how Lavander and Hermione had a brief rivalry over Ron, but he had never experienced it himself, and it was actually pretty funny, maybe in an annoying way, but still funny. Finally, he was the chosen one for something other than death.

"And you," Tom stopped to glare at Daphne. "You will go to Azkaban for what you did today."

"I mean, I am fine," Harry tried. He'll deal with Greengrass himself later. "No need to..."

"No, it doesn't seem Ms Greengrass feels any kind of remorse over trying to kill you in broad daylight," Tom said, lowering his head to stare at Greengrass. There was such coldness in his tone that it made Harry feel uneasy. "So perhaps it would be prudent for this matter to be properly investigated."

"Tom," Harry tried again, but the man just pulled him away.

"Let's go, darling," he said. "I need to make sure you're alright."

ㅤ

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Tom entered his office, arriving earlier than usual. His secretary was already at his desk, arranging a stack of parchment alongside the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and other periodicals. She looked up abruptly, startled by his unexpected early appearance.

"Good morning, Ms Granger," he greeted her briskly, approaching his desk in quick strides. "Let's dispense with the current coverage from the Prophet and other publications regarding myself today. Please proceed with the day's schedule as arranged."

"Good morning, Mr Riddle," she said hesitantly. She was accustomed to his punctuality. Tom was always early; he arrived early and left late, but today he had arrived considerably sooner than usual. "Well... um... regarding your schedule, at 8:00 a.m., Mr Selwyn has convened an extraordinary session and requests your presence at the Wizengamot."

"Selwyn? What is this about? Did he send any documents or briefing notes concerning the matter for this session?" he asked, settling into his chair and glancing over the neatly arranged documents before him.

"No, sir," she replied politely. "I've sent an inquiry, but Mr Selwyn's aides indicated that the matter is of exceptional urgency and that your presence is required without delay. Unfortunately, they did not have time to prepare a formal brief in advance."

"Of course they didn't," Tom said with measured disdain, sarcasm lacing his tone. Selwyn was clearly attempting his amateurish political stunts once again. It was quite obvious that the recent snub at the council had bruised his fragile ego. Tom couldn't help but feel irritation at having to tolerate Selwyn and his petty machinations. Still, such was the game of politics—played by fools with far too much free time on their hands, wasting effort on schemes that wouldn't fool anyone with half a brain.

"After the Wizengamot session at 9:00 a.m., you have a briefing with Percy Weasley, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, regarding the ongoing diplomatic crisis with the International Confederation of Wizards," Ms Granger continued without further comment. "At 11:00 a.m., a diplomatic envoy from the German Ministry of Magic, Mr Karl Vogel, arrives via teleportation portkey. He wishes to discuss Grindelwald and his recent activities. I have ensured that the ambassador's apple-infused tea is prepared and that the portkey coordinates are verified."

"Perfect," Tom nodded, signing the paperwork after a quick review.

"Then you have a luncheon at 1:00 p.m. with your father-in-law," she said, taking a long, strained breath. "I have already ordered food that will be delivered on time."

Meeting with Potter after Harry's disastrous birthday party wasn't on Tom's priority list, but he had to tolerate it. He nodded, and Ms Granger continued to inform him of the rest of his schedule, placing all the relevant paperwork before him. He still had to review the draft legislation on unauthorised spellcraft.

He had come early so he could look into Malfoy's work records. The git was either pretending to be a fool and was working against Tom, or was an actual pawn in Gellert's schemes. Tom was inclined to believe the latter, but he was not a fool to underestimate his enemies. He had watched him during Harry's birthday party at the Potter Manor, asked him subtle questions, probing for the truth, but nothing came out of it.

"Thank you, Ms Granger," he said when she was done. "Please inform Mr Lestrange and Mr Rosier to prepare to join me for the session at Wizengamot."

"Of course, sir," she said. "Anything else?"

"That will be all."

She nodded and left the room, gently shutting the door behind her. Tom leaned into his chair and lidded his eyes in thought. The game everyone was playing was slowly reaching the finish line. He needed to think and plan every contingency, every manoeuvre, and every calculated step and artifice. Protecting Harry and keeping him for himself was his priority, but so was getting rid of Gellert and his troubling influence.

It was about an hour later, after he was done reviewing the logging documents and cross-referencing them with the information he had in the archives, that there was a knock on the door, then the door opened and his top advisers headed inside his office along with his undersecretary. Lestrange looked pinched as always, and Barty looked like he had been running down to his office on foot from his flat.

"Good morning, Mr Riddle," Lestrange greeted, and the others made muffled sounds in acknowledgment. "Ms Granger informed us you needed our presence at the 8:00 a.m. session. Since Mr Selwyn's staff has refused to comment further on the purpose of the request to appear in Wizengamot, I advise we send a formal request for immediate clarification and not attend this meeting."

Tom had already considered that option but had decided against it. "I think Mr Selwyn is counting on that, considering he's scheduled this meeting when I would have other commitments," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Undersecretary Crouch can attend the meeting on your behalf, sir," Lestrange continued. "This is clearly a trap of some kind to force you to make commitments; otherwise, there is no reason for Mr Selwyn and his staffers to refuse to elaborate on the purpose of your presence during this session. Considering the recent events, we should stay on top of controlling the narrative. Having your presence at the meeting at his request would damage—"

"I understand, Rabastan, but I want no misunderstandings—if this is a trap, I will be the one to set the next move. My presence will remind everyone that I control this game, not the other way around."

Rabastan's eyebrows knitted, but he nodded, resigned. Tom got up, fixed his tie, and motioned for his team to follow. They headed to level 2, as the session was scheduled to start at eight, and Tom didn't want to be late.

The members were already settling into their seats when they entered the chambers. Tom caught Selwyn's eye. The git glared at him and then smirked. Tom held his gaze, making Selwyn look away in discomfort. Tom had come to learn that others found it quite disturbing to hold eye contact with him for long, as if he was not entirely human or lacked a soul, making the alarm bells ring in his opponents' heads, warning them of danger on an instinctual level.

They took their seats, Rabastan looking around annoyed. One thing Tom could appreciate about his top adviser was that he was never shy about showing his clear distaste for being forced off course. When there was an agenda to follow, Lestrange followed it as if his life depended on it, and any deviation was taken as a direct existential threat.

"Order!" Chief Warlock Lupin tapped his gavel against the wooden desk as the noise gradually muffled. "This session of Wizengamot will now come to order. I call upon the Honourable Members to present themselves and prepare for the discussions ahead."

Someone's aide opened the door loudly, then ran inside, panicked. Tom sighed and tilted his head, waiting for the circus to commence.

"Mr Lupin, Honourable Members, we have a full agenda today, beginning with the urgent matter requested by the Honourable Member Mr Philius Selwyn regarding the recent orphanage attack," the clerk seated at a side desk said, looking up for confirmation.

Tom narrowed his eyes at Selwyn. What was he playing at? Rosier and Lestrange looked at each other, confused.

"Thank you. The Honourable Member Selwyn, you have the floor," Lupin said, his eyes briefly turning to Tom.

Selwyn got up, grabbing his parchment papers and shuffling about as if he hadn't expected to be given the floor so easily.

"Honourable Members of Wizengamot, with the recent events, many of us have been gravely concerned about the current state of Ministerial affairs, how our government officials are conducting themselves, and how many members and heads of departments are simply here to push their benefactor's agenda," Selwyn started, his gaze wandering over everyone seated, uttering words that seemed laughable considering how most of these members inherited their seats from their fathers and weren't elected into their positions.

There was a murmur of agreement that encouraged Selwyn to leave his seat and sprawl into the open centre of the chamber.

"This concern has been ignored multiple times, as some of our more sensible members have tried to request accountability in the actions taken by the current Minister's cabinet," Selwyn continued, becoming more sanctimonious in his indignation, making Tom to put a bit more effort not to roll his eyes. "The orphanage attack that didn't happen not so long ago, where hundreds were injured, has been swept under the rug conveniently, and nobody is even investigating the issue of the apprehended criminals, all of whom were kissed by Dementors that, I remind you, have managed to break free and attack those criminals. And then we have the recent Hogsmeade attack involving these Dementors. I demand that we take this lax attitude towards all these attacks more seriously and investigate all matters related to these recent attacks."

"I certainly don't see the harm in investigating the issue," Amelia Bones interjected. "Merlin knows, it's been one chaos after another."

"Thank you, Mrs Bones," Selwyn said, rubbing his hands. "Since we should agree these kinds of internal investigations would require impartiality, I believe we cannot trust the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to conduct this investigation, as they have demonstrated complete lack of adequacy and competence regarding this matter. Dare I say their impotence may even be a symptom of conspiracy. I propose, left with no choice, that we form a special committee to investigate the orphanage attack and the two Dementor attacks—the first on the apprehended criminals and the second, the recent one in Hogsmeade. Can we put this proposal to vote, Chief Warlock?"

There was a murmur of agreement. Tom tilted his head and watched Selwyn. What was he trying to achieve with this? Was he trying to accuse Tom of organising the orphanage attack?

"Anyone in agreement, show of hand," the Chief Warlock said, his jaw clenching.

Many of the seated members raised their hands. Lestrange let out a puff of air in annoyance. Tom watched impassively.

"The members favour the proposal of forming a special investigative committee," Lupin banged his gavel against the wood of the high desk. "You have a go, Mr Selwyn. You can draft your proposal formally and expatiate on the details of the candidacy for the head of this special committee—"

"I have already prepared everything relevant, Mr Lupin, and would like to propose the candidacy of Mr Gellert Grindelwald Jr for the position of chief investigator. In fact, he's here today. Mr Grindelwald, if you can—"

The muscles on Tom's face tensed as he tried to control his facial expressions. This all made sense now. Selwyn clearly wasn't acting alone, and how ironic of Gellert to try to investigate his own crimes.

Gellert stepped down the stairs and walked towards the floor where Selwyn was standing.

"Thank you, Mr Selwyn," Gellert said with a smug smile. "I'm honoured by your consideration and would put the utmost effort into finding out what dark forces have permeated our Ministry and are now poisoning the well of good faith our citizens hold towards their governing bodies."

Gellert locked eyes with Tom and smiled as if thinking he had won. Tom held his gaze without revealing any expression. He was going to crush him like a little bug. He was patient, though; he would let Gellert play his hand first.

ㅤ

ㅤ

By the afternoon, Tom was exhausted. All his headaches were because of Grindelwald. He had to deal with ICW because of him too and had to spend the morning with one of the Weasleys discussing the details of how to handle them to minimise any diplomatic disaster, but to make sure they were well aware of his stance regarding Harry and the summons they were sending.

Then he had to tolerate Karl Vogel's presence, who wanted to get some kind of compromising information on Grindelwald, and hoped Tom would have it ready for him. That meeting wasn't as productive as Tom would have liked, as the man complained about his apple-infused tea for the first 30 minutes of the meeting—something about the tea not having the correct ratio of seeds, which was ridiculous. But all these old farts were bloody ridiculous. Tom hoped he would never age into an insufferable bastard himself. Maybe he could use that connection to Harry to ensure that.

Then when he was done and had a minute to breathe, there was a knock on the door. His secretary opened it slowly and stepped inside.

"Your father-in-law and Mr Black are here for the luncheon," she said. "I'll make sure to let the elves know to bring an extra set for Mr Black."

"Thank you, Ms Granger," Tom said, nodding. "Have them come inside."

He got up from his seat, fixed his collar, and allowed his magic to straighten the documents on his desk. The slightest imperfection was unacceptable for Tom when he faced people who could find weakness in the crease of his robes. The old hinges on the door creaked again as it was pushed open, and his secretary stepped inside, holding the door open for James Potter and Sirius Black.

Potter, as always, was dressed in a suit and formal robes, while Black was wearing a leather jacket over nothing. All the tattoos on his chest were on full display. Tom often wondered how someone like Black and Potter were even close friends. Potter was not exactly a prude, but he fell under the umbrella of prim and proper, and Black was still acting like a rebellious teenager, even at his current age—certainly outside James Potter's idea of acceptable behaviour for a man.

He reasoned they were related and thus close since their school days. Though they had grown apart in their worldview as they grew older, their kinship had never waned.

"Good afternoon, Tom," James said, reaching for a handshake.

He shook hands with the man, then with Black. "Please take a seat," he said, maintaining a pleasant smile on his face despite Black eyeing him down with irritation.

They sat down, and after a few minutes of polite small talk, the lunch was served. Tom wondered how Potter would take the news of Selwyn bringing in Grindelwald's spawn into the Ministry to investigate the orphanage attack, with implications that Tom had something to do with it. He had a feeling he'd take Selwyn's move as a personal attack on his own authority, even though it had nothing to do with him.

"The papers are still harping on that unfortunate incident during Harry's birthday party," Potter said, cutting his steak furiously. "I have sacked all the imbeciles responsible for organising those games, but even that isn't enough. My little boy could have been seriously hurt."

Black smirked and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. He placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a tip of his wand. Tom gritted his teeth. Black seemed to have no respect for anyone, smoking in his office.

"Harry battered that little fucking snake like a legend," Black said, inhaling the smoke and then letting out a puff. "Did we watch the same fight, James?"

"He has powerful magic, no doubt, but that boy doesn't know how to handle it," James sighed. "It was a matter of luck that he didn't get hurt. And you should stop encouraging it and letting him cast spells on you, Sirius, or have you forgotten he's almost torn you to pieces?"

"I don't know," he flicked the burnt tip of his cigarette into his plate. "I mean Gryffindor's sword came to his aid, and he also handled those Dementors no problem. I think Harry must have been having a bad day when he tried that spell with me."

Black was blind if he thought the previous Harry was having a bad day when he cast the drying spell on him. Tom knew better than to say anything, but it endlessly amused him how much Black worshipped his godson.

Potter's expression suddenly stilled, and then he looked up at Tom.

"While it may be a coincidence," he said slowly, crossing his legs, "I have to admit that Harry's recent behaviour is quite odd. Have you noticed anything strange, Tom?"

"No, Harry is simply back to normal. It was all Gellert Grindelwald Jr's influence, sir," Tom lied, amusing himself at how long it took Potter to notice his son had been replaced with a far better version. "You know how naive and easily swayed he can be. That insufferable git has been dating Harry since their school days and has filled his head with all kinds of nonsense. And now that Harry has finally broken things off with the bastard, he's himself again. All his tantrums and scandals were because of Gellert."

"I knew that boy was trouble when I saw him," Potter said with contempt. "What could one expect from a child of a man who slept with his lover's sister? Dumbledore was a fool to raise that child. It seems apple didn't fall too far from the tree. I tried to break them apart, but Harry can be stubborn."

"He's still stubborn as ever, but thankfully Gellert is in the past," Tom said, thinking joyfully about Gellert getting rejected by Harry.

"Now ICW pursuing Harry makes sense," Potter said with a snort. "Trying to use his father's influence there to humiliate my son will not be forgotten. If I have to pay every sitting member at ICW to get rid of that toerag, I will."

Potter always thought to solve his problems with money, which probably always worked, but in Grindelwald's case, it wouldn't yield the results he'd expect. Gellert was very influential with a lot of ICW members and had many loyalists. Bribery wouldn't help Potter with it.

"I'm taking some measures about that, sir," he said instead. "Gellert is certainly trying to stick his nose in politics here as well and has Selwyn bringing him in as head of a special investigative authority since he blames me for the orphanage attack. But that will be his undoing."

Potter's expression became tight at the news, but then he shook his head and took a sip from his glass.

"Selwyn does seem to suffer from a dog licking his own wounded balls ailment," he said with a condescending smile on his lips. "Don't worry about him; I'll make sure he has something else to concern himself with rather than standing in your way."

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Black said, suddenly getting up and smashing the tip of his cigarette in his plate. "But I've promised Remus I'll sort some things for him today, and I'd love to stay longer, but I need to go and take care of that."

"Of course," Tom said, getting up. "Let me..."

"No need to see me off, Riddle," Black waved his hand. "I'll find the bloody way myself. See you later, James."

Potter nodded at him as Black headed for the door. Tom sat down, managing to school his expression. It was a nightmare dealing with Harry's family.

"By the way, during the incident the other day, you spoke in Parseltongue," Potter said, tilting his head. "It is a very rare ability, generally hereditary. The papers are even writing about it, speculating. Why haven't you ever mentioned that you were a Parselmouth?"

"I've never truly given it much thought, sir," he lied. "I assumed it was a fluke of magic. All known Parselmouth families here have died out long ago."

"Hmm," Potter laughed, but there was no amusement in his voice. "The last ones we know of were the Gaunts, and considering the appalling level of inbreeding and degeneration, it was no surprise they simply vanished from the map of wizarding families. But still, it's possible for one of them to have had an offspring that they would not have acknowledged. I recommend you request a hereditary review with Saint Mungo's."

"Sir—"

"I admit positive results wouldn't thrill me, but I believe, if it were the case, we could use it for political leverage," Potter said, interrupting him. "You've proved yourself to be an exceptional man, Tom, but even you could use some old tales to legitimise your position among the wizarding elite. I do not view things like many others. They cannot look at the world past their prejudices, and it clouds their judgement. So, request the test and do it discreetly."

Tom gritted his teeth and sighed. "Of course, Lord Potter," he said with a smile on his face that felt like it would melt his own muscles.

"And watch Harry closer," Potter added, knitting his eyebrows. "Something is definitely up with that boy."

ㅤ

ㅤ

"I have never been to a nice place like this," Harry admitted, looking around the dining room at the Muggle restaurant Tom had taken him to.

When he'd come back from work, Harry was flying on his broom, trying to invent some new game that didn't require any players, as poor Dobby refused to play with Harry any longer since flying really wasn't his thing. He'd waited until Harry was down and then told him to get dressed, as they were finally going on a date.

Harry was ashamed that he'd thrown his broom into Tom's arms and run off home to get changed. With how bored he was, Harry was pretty sure he'd take a meeting with Dolores Umbridge.

Then, when Dobby had dressed him up and made him look all pretty and nice, he'd apparated with Tom to a quiet Muggle street.

He was surprised that Tom would take him to a Muggle place, but then he had to remind himself that Tom had a Muggle flat and probably went to places like this when he had to meet with the Muggle prime minister or something.

Soft music played inside. The waiters were dressed in elegant uniforms and smiled at the guests, who themselves were also dressed nicely. And while everyone looked beautiful and well-groomed, the moment they stepped inside and were led to their table, the place went silent, and Harry felt everyone's eyes on them.

"The food is exquisite," Tom said with a smile, reaching over the table and placing his hand on Harry's as soon as they sat down. "You will like it."

"Okay, I have no idea what to order, though," Harry said, flicking through the menu. "I guess I'll have whatever you're having."

Tom's smile widened, and he nodded. Harry nearly thought Riddle would order something strange, causing him to vomit and embarrass himself, but then he remembered that Tom wasn't that kind of person, and his lips curled into a faint smile on their own.

When the waiter approached, he stared at Harry for a long twenty seconds, and while twenty seconds wasn't really a long time, it felt like an eternity to Harry because he was being stared at as if he had a whole cake on top of his head. Tom had to clear his throat to get the man's attention. Harry sighed, knowing that it was natural for Muggles to stare at him. After all, he looked really unusual. There were plenty of attractive men and women in the world, but whatever Harry was made him truly striking.

It was as if Harry's entire face was seeped in magic that commanded attention and admiration. Wizards and witches stared at him, so Muggles clearly didn't stand a chance.

"It seems like everyone's staring at me," he whispered.

"You're stunning," Tom said, gently rubbing his hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "If you wish, I can render them blind."

Harry pulled his hand back. "Not funny," he said. "You know your sense of humour kind of matches to Voldemort's."

"He too wanted to blind everyone so they wouldn't get the privilege of setting eyes on you?"

Harry snorted, imagining Voldemort being jealous of people for staring at him. He couldn't decide what would have been more terrifying: being on the receiving end of Voldemort's affection or his animosity.

"No," Harry said. "He went straight to murder."

"Efficient."

"You're terrible, Tom," Harry laughed.

"Everything for you, darling," Tom joked, reaching out again and holding Harry's hand. "Tell me something about you that you haven't told me yet."

His words were spoken in a soft, tender manner that made Harry's heart flutter in his chest.

"What do you want to know?" he asked. "You've seen my memories already, so there's not much left to say."

"Anything you'd like to share," Tom said softly. There was so much tenderness in his voice that Harry felt like it would melt his bones. "I've merely glanced into your memories. I still don't know many things about you."

"I mean, you probably already know that I didn't know I had magic, so when I first received my Hogwarts letter, it suddenly felt like I wasn't forgotten about, like some useless thing you shove in the storage room just so it won't clutter your space. I felt special, but it also hurt to know that it was because of me that my parents died."

"It wasn't because of you," Tom argued. "I'm sorry for what happened, and I wish I could have swapped places with the other me and never let that pain happen to you. But it was his fault, not yours. He chose a path that led to his own end and to your suffering."

"You think he's dead?" Harry asked. "I don't want to think about what the world looks like with him alive and my friends not knowing that I am not dead."

"If he's not dead yet, he shall be," Tom said, his eyes briefly wandering over the room in contemplation.

"How do you know?"

"Do you like history, darling?"

"Um... I mean, I know some Muggle history and a bit of wizarding history. In my defence, the professor teaching it was already dead. Why do you ask?"

"In the short history of humanity, whether Muggle or Magical, one thing has always been constant," Tom smiled. "Power does not stay with individuals. Those perceived to have too much power attract an almost sanctified degree of opposition. Humans like to cheer for the underdog, the rebels. Tyrants rarely manage to hold onto their power for long. Very often, they are betrayed by their own allies. The man you've left in your world is too consumed by his own arrogance to notice when a dagger is in his back."

"I don't think Death Eaters are that ambitious," Harry chuckled.

"They might not be, but they are certainly motivated by self-interest," Tom's fingers gently glided over Harry's wrist. "And if they realise their situation has worsened, they will betray their master with a snap of a finger. You should not worry about him—a man like Voldemort won't last much longer."

"The first course, sir," the waiter's voice startled Harry.

They placed plates in front of them and filled their glasses with some kind of wine that had almost dried-up labels. Harry watched them, frozen the entire time, as Tom reached out again for his hand.

"Smells pretty good," Harry admitted, staring down at the colourful dish on his plate, which he had no idea what it was.

"I'm glad you approve," Tom said, his eyes sweeping over Harry, making Harry feel so bloody naked. Something about the way Tom stared at him made him feel a strange vulnerability—like he was left alone in a room with a dog known to take a bite at random. Tom was kind to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

Harry grabbed the fork and took a small bite. It was tasty, and he was pretty sure it was some kind of fish, but the sauce it was dipped in was so delicious. Tom's smile widened, seeing his reaction.

"You look prettier when you are enjoying yourself," he said, making Harry blush. Harry coughed in embarrassment. Technically, Harry was very pretty, but Tom didn't have to use that word to describe him.

"For Merlin's sake," he complained.

"You know your father and godfather are starting to notice that you've changed," Tom laughed.

"What? Why?"

"They've been asking questions about whether I noticed that you've changed."

"And what did you say?" Harry asked, placing his fork down.

"I told them it was all Gellert's influence, and now you are all you," Tom said with amusement.

Harry sighed. He didn't want anyone else to know that he'd switched places with the other Harry. It was a big deal, and he wasn't sure the Potters would be happy if they even believed him. He still needed to find out what happened to the other Harry, since it didn't seem that the thing Nott had put into his drink was poison after all. Greengrass must have thought she was some kind of mastermind, trying to remove Harry from Gellert's life by having him pregnant or something. The girl was insane.

"Don't remind me of Gellert," he said to Tom's happiness. "Really don't want to hear anything about him or Greengrass."

"She will be held responsible for almost killing you the other day," Tom said, his tone growing strict. "I won't tolerate any insinuation that they can just make attempts on your life and go unpunished."

"She is a dumb girl," Harry said with a sigh. "Her masterplan was to have me pregnant, which is gross, so Gellert stays with her. How can you even prosecute someone that fucking stupid?"

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't told you," Harry said, rubbing the bridge of his nose and then grabbing his fork to take another bite. "But it turns out the liquid Nott poured into my drink was a fecundity potion she gave him. She wanted me to have a child with you, which I think she thought would make Gellert back off. The barking mad levels of drama this whole thing is wrapped in would have even Skeeter running away in fear."

"She did what?" Tom's voice became low. He sounded angry, to Harry's surprise. "Why haven't you told me? It seems Gellert isn't the only one that needs to be behind bars permanently. That proves she is dangerous."

"Can we just not talk about them?" Harry took a deep breath. "I just want to put all this nonsense behind me. I can't even go out without someone harassing me with the Dementor attack thing and then what happened during my birthday. The press, those weird ICW people, Gellert—God knows who else."

"Of course, sweetheart," Tom's expression softened. "I've already made some plans to quieten down all this noise. We will make a media appearance, answer a few questions, and hopefully that will satisfy people's curiosity enough that you won't have to worry about going out."

"I hate giving interviews," Harry said. "I'm very bad at them."

"We will do it together," Tom assured him. "I have already taken some measures to make it happen. The interviewer will be Rita Skeeter and..."

"What?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"She will behave," Tom said coldly. "She wants to earn my good graces."

"That sounds corrupt, you know!"

"That's simply politics, Harry," Tom's handsome face twisted strangely. "We don't need to do it, but it's mutually beneficial, and she gets a second chance."

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The studio was noisy. There were so many people rushing about, moving, bumping into each other, talking with one another, yelling and screaming. Harry sat on the sofa, letting some witch fix his hair as they got ready for the interview.

"Make my lipstick brighter, please," Rita Skeeter demanded as her assistant kept applying some magical lipstick to her lips and another charmed her hair to be fuller, puffier, higher, and shinier.

Harry's eyes wandered to her as she giggled loudly, fanning herself and reading whatever it was she had written on her clipboard. She was wearing a silk dress with bright orange flowers printed all over it. It was so bright it could blind someone, in all honesty.

"Do you want water, Harry?" Hermione asked.

She was there along with all the other staff from Tom's office, and Harry's mood instantly improved.

"If it's not a problem," he said softly. "I very much would like a sip. I feel like this place is withering me, like I am a houseplant."

"Of course, it's not a problem," Hermione smiled at him sweetly. "And yes, this place is suffocating. I will ask the staff to cast a cooling charm."

"What are you doing? No, we can't have those ghastly-looking flowers in the same frame with the Minister's spouse," Lestrange was yelling at some lowly assistant, irritating Harry. "It needs to be perfect, or I'll end all of your careers."

Merlin! Someone should have tried to move that log up his arse a bit. He sounded insufferable.

Since they arrived, Lestrange had been barking orders left and right, complaining about things not looking good enough and that if something was out of order and embarrassed the Minister for Magic, he was going to make them pay. Barty Crouch Jr, on the other hand, was just staring at people like he expected them to whip out their wands and start fighting.

"I'll take care of that," Tom's smooth voice made goosebumps run wild on Harry's arms. The girl who was trying to pin some kind of magical microphone to the lapel of Harry's robes, after unsuccessfully fiddling with his clothes for a minute or two, froze in place and dropped the microphone, flustered.

"I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled.

"It's alright," Tom said, kneeling to grab the microphone. She turned red and then fled.

Tom sat down next to Harry, and Harry looked at him. The smile reached Tom's eyes immediately. He leaned over and pinned the microphone to Harry's shirt.

"Don't worry," he whispered into Harry's ear, making another wave of cold shivers spread down his spine. "Rita won't do anything stupid. She might be a hack, but she is also a smart woman. Stop looking at her with such fire in your eyes, or I might start thinking you fancy her."

"Right," Harry huffed.

"The interview will start in one minute," someone yelled. "The magicamera is ready to roll."

"Mr Riddle-Potter," Lestrange called, waving a stack of parchment in his hand. "If you feel uncertain about any of the questions, we will hold cards for you."

"I'll manage," Harry said.

The staff cast some last-minute charms on them and the set to make sure everything was in order. After all, this was apparently the first time ever a magical broadcast took place, and Skeeter seemed over the moon to be the one spearheading it.

"Hello, everyone! Welcome to the wizarding world's first televised magiccast! I'm your host, Rita Skeeter, and I am absolutely thrilled to have you all here today. And today's special guests—please welcome the Minister for Magic, Tom Riddle, and his stunning spouse, Harry Potter-Riddle! Thank you both so much for joining us!"

"Thank you, Ms Skeeter, for the invitation," Tom said with a smile, his arm holding Harry's waist steadily.

"Please call me, Rita. Now, let's start with something fun. Mr Riddle, what's it like being married to someone so important? I mean, everyone's been talking about you two!" Rita asked, leaning closer and crossing her legs.

Harry's mind blanked out. What was he meant to say?

"Well," Tom said with a charming smile, lifting his arm to run his hand up and down Harry's back in a soothing gesture. "It's an honour, really, to be married to someone as sweet and caring as Harry."

Skeeter giggled happily. Harry knew the question was meant for him, but Tom had noticed how he froze and stepped in right away.

"Mr Potter Riddle, Harry, may I call you Harry?" Rita asked. Harry nodded, forcing a smile on his face. "Well, the public has a very big interest in you. With the recent extraordinary display of magic, the interest has grown even bigger, and you have always been in the public eye. How does it affect you in your daily life?"

"Well," Harry cleared his throat, trying to put his thoughts into words and not sound insincere because Rita's fake smile was making him want to just apparate away. "Being in the public eye is really not my thing. I would have preferred if people paid attention to more pressing matters."

Lestrange shook his hands and palmed his face in frustration, like Harry had given the wrong answer.

"Harry's too sweet to confess that all this attention after he's saved the people in Hogsmeade has taken an enormous toll on his health," Tom interjected, his voice gaining a sad note. "We had to have healers visit us at home because of all the scrutiny he would receive if he went to St Mungo's. It's been quite difficult. All he wanted to do was protect people, and I have lost count of the summons received by the international court for his appearance there. One might think Harry is a deranged criminal. They are not treating child-murdering beasts with this kind of contempt."

Tom was embellishing the fuck out of it, and if Harry didn't know any better, he'd think Harry was ill day and night because of what happened. It was fucked up, but it also unsettled him how smooth Tom was at lying and exaggerating things.

"After he risked his life to save everyone, including the Dementors, who nobody ever even thought of helping?" Rita exclaimed in faux outrage.

"Yes," Tom said. "And even now, he's not even willing to let people know how much all of this constant calls, letters, and attempts to see him hurt him."

"Morgana, that sounds like a nightmare," Skeeter shook her head, her curl bouncing happily on her head. "That is outrageous, especially for officials of foreign governments that are members of ICW, to try to kidnap him. Something should be done about it."

"We do hope that they'll see reason," Tom said. "I know that people are on Harry's side, and if it comes to it, they will protest if the ICW continues to harass Harry."

"Must be difficult for you too, Mr Riddle," Skeeter said, nodding in understanding. "On top of all your government duties, worrying about your husband's safety."

"It is difficult not to worry," Tom leaned over and placed a kiss on Harry's head in front of the bloody camera. "People don't see the vulnerable side of Harry and have this perception about him that they can say whatever they want since they see his face in the papers, but he is just as human and feeling as any other."

"Harry, what is it like seeing the Minister for Magic outside the Ministry?" Rita turned to Harry. "Tell us, what does the Minister like to do for fun?"

"Um..." Harry cleared his throat. "He likes to read, and he's very good at duelling, so we often duel."

"Really? And who wins?"

"Well, honestly, it's a bit like playing chess with a grandmaster. Tom is always three steps ahead. So, usually, I let him win…"

Tom laughed and shook his head. Harry smiled at him sweetly and reached out to grab the glass of water Hermione had brought for him.

"Harry is being modest," Tom said, with an amused expression on his face. "He's very good at duelling."

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The interrogation room was cold and soulless. There were no windows or any other source of natural light. The sole lightbulb hanging from the ceiling barely illuminated the room.

Harry wondered if they made it look so depressing and unpleasant with charms and hexes, or if this place was really that dreadful. Malfoy was spinning his quill on the parchment as he paced the room. Greengrass was sitting at the opposite end of the table, crying. Harry wondered why they needed his presence for this. Greengrass had pushed him into the game arena, but Harry was unharmed and fine. They should have just threatened her and left her alone.

"And where were you standing when Harry—" Malfoy interrupted himself and cleared his throat. "When Mr Potter-Riddle was walking down the stairs?"

"Um..." Greengrass stammered, wiping her tears and staring at Malfoy in confusion. Harry didn't understand the question himself. Malfoy was spouting bloody nonsense.

"He wants to know if you were on the right or on the left of me," Harry said mechanically, his voice bored.

Things had calmed down after the Skeeter interview. People were still staring at him, and a few even approached for autographs, but most people's interest was limited to longing stares. Many who had watched the interview were sending howlers to ICW for harassing Harry—all because of Tom's theatrical performance. Riddle was so good at making things sound a certain way. The good thing was that he wasn't interested in Voldemort stuff.

Now, a week later, nearly at the end of August, this meeting was scheduled, and Malfoy wanted his presence. Harry was sure the smarmy bastard just wanted to show off, because there was no reason for Harry to be in the same room as the person accused of attempting to kill him.

Like a bloody peacock, Malfoy strutted about the room and continued asking asinine questions, pissing Harry off. He could be at home, flying on his broom, or going out for tea with Hermione, like they'd promised to do after the Skeeter interview but never got the chance, or you know, spending time with Tom. They were married, for fuck's sake, and Harry barely saw the man. Things were pretty chaotic because of Gellert Grindelwald investigating his own bloody attack. Harry had never heard anything more absurd.

"And then I just pushed him," Greengrass cried. "But I swear, I didn't think he'd actually fall. I don't know what I thought would happen, but it really wasn't my intention for Harry to get hurt."

"For fuck's sake," Harry slammed his hand on the table and got to his feet. Malfoy's jaw dropped open, and Greengrass stared at him as if she'd seen Harry eat a live snake or something. "Can we end this farce? She pushed me. I fell. I could have died. I didn't. Greengrass is an idiot. She clearly could use a few more brain cells to make sure she isn't offing people. Give her a bloody jail sentence of a few days, have her work with house-elves at Hogwarts for a month—I don't care what it is that you think she should be doing, but can we end this so I can go back to my life?"

"Potter," Malfoy wailed. "What's going on with you? Why are you acting all strange like that? Why are you cursing? Did you hurt your head?"

"No, but I will have a brain aneurysm if I have to sit through another hour of this interrogation," Harry snapped.

"Why are you acting like this?"

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. It sounded like a mass of clouds slamming into each other. The lamp hanging from the ceiling swayed. Then the walls shook, and the table toppled over. Greengrass screamed and jumped out of her chair as dust and fragments of chipped stone fell down. Harry got to his feet and reached for his wand.

"Open the bloody door, Malfoy," he ordered, as the blonde moron stared around in panic.

"Is this an earthquake?" he asked, fumbling with the keys in his hand and rushing to the door.

"Don't you feel the force of bloody magic hitting us?" Harry demanded, snatching the keys out of Malfoy's shaking hands and trying to block out the ear-bleeding screech Greengrass was producing like a banshee. "The Ministry is clearly under attack. Someone is trying to destroy the shields."

"How do you even know that?" Malfoy cried, but Harry didn't dignify that with an answer. He concentrated on opening the door and rushing out. "Greengrass, what are you doing, standing there? Follow."

They walked out of the interrogation room and headed towards the lifts. The spells hitting the building were dismantling the wards and the shields, and the excess magic being absorbed by the shields was pushing against the structure, shaking the foundations. Whatever spells they were using were pretty powerful.

"Fuck my life," Harry cursed. "I bloody can't sit down for two seconds without some knobhead trying to show off his bloody arsehole to the whole world and how cool they are. Malfoy, Greengrass, don't fall behind if you don't want to be buried under the bloody rubble. Keep up."

They made their way through a very long corridor towards the lifts. As soon as the doors opened, Harry grabbed both Greengrass and Malfoy, shoved them inside, and then pressed the button to the Atrium floor. He didn't have time for these two to walk around like confused toddlers. Greengrass was an airhead, but Malfoy was the head of Magical Law Enforcement. Why the fuck was he so bloody slow?

"What is going on?" he screamed. "Who do you think is attacking us?"

"I don't know," Harry closed his eyes. "Can you both keep quiet? I don't want our potential attackers to be alerted of our presence."

Greengrass was still screaming. Harry was tempted to stun her, but then he'd have to carry her around. She was hyperventilating, her face was pale, and it looked like she was having a panic attack or something. Then her breathing became shallow, and Harry realised she couldn't breathe properly.

"Hey, Greengrass," he demanded. "Are you okay?"

Her hands flailed, but she couldn't talk.

"Do you take potions for that?" he asked, and she nodded. "Okay, where do you keep it? Malfoy, help me before she passes out."

Malfoy grabbed her purse and started rummaging through it.

"Fuck it," Harry said. They didn't have time to look for it. "Legilimens!"

He'd find the answer in her mind faster. He tore through her nonexistent defences and looked for the memory of where she kept the potion for her panic attacks. Navigating Greengrass's mind was like going through a strange disorganised maze. But it didn't take him long to see her putting it in her dress pocket, perhaps because she knew she might need it as she was heading for an interrogation.

Before Harry could tear out of her mind, a memory of Greengrass making a Fecundity potion that was meant to create suitable conditions for pregnancy appeared before him. Harry stared, disgusted, and was about to wave it off and leave when he noticed she'd put a Bursting Mushroom into the potion without deactivating it. Harry stared in horror when he realised why the other Harry had died after drinking the stupid potion Nott had spilled into his drink.

He left her mind, accioed her potion, and quickly helped her drink it. Her shaking body instantly calmed, her breathing returned to normal, and blood returned to her cheeks. The lift doors opened, and they stepped outside where Aurors and masked intruders were fighting. Harry sent them flying when they tried to direct their wands at them.

"How do you even know all these spells?" Malfoy screamed.

"Shut up!"

Harry's wand was getting hot as he continued to duel with multiple people. The bloody wands were always burning out before he could even properly fight.

"Shit," he dropped the burnt, almost ashen wand. "Apparate us, Malfoy."

"What?"

When Malfoy didn't move, Harry grabbed the two idiots and dragged them into the fireplaces in the Atrium, and in an instant, they were in the middle of an empty farm field.

"Where? How have you learned to fight like this?" Malfoy shouted. "I thought the first few times were a coincidence, but..."

Harry cupped his face. His wand was gone, and Tom wasn't even in the Ministry, as he had an urgent meeting at the Sacred Council or whatever that was—this world's James Potter's little secret society. But he still felt bad that he wasn't there to help the others.

"How?" Malfoy was still babbling.

"Look, Draco," Harry sighed. "I've always been pretty good with this stuff. The thing is, people generally don't like me going around waving my wand. But I can't just sit and do nothing when I am being attacked. Can you leave the questions for later and apparate us somewhere else? As you can see, my wand is fried again."

Malfoy paced back and forth, making Harry's instinct to punch him pretty strong. Greengrass's crying wasn't helping either.

"And Greengrass," Harry turned to the girl. "You should deactivate the bursting mushrooms before you put them into a potion, you know. Otherwise, they explode, and the waste is usually poisonous."

Greengrass stopped crying and stared at him with horrified eyes. "Yes, I know what you've done."

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Breaking News: Allegations of Corruption Shake Minister for Magic Riddle's Reign

The Daily Wizard Post
27/08/2002

The wizarding community is reeling as fresh allegations against Minister for Magic Tom Riddle threaten to topple his leadership. Gellert Grindelwald Jr, head of the special investigative committee appointed by the Wizengamot, has issued a startling statement revealing evidence of widespread corruption and manipulative tactics employed by the Minister.

In a press conference held earlier today, Mr Grindelwald Jr announced that he is calling for snap elections, citing the gravity of his findings which will be formally published after the upcoming Wizengamot hearing later this week.

The investigation was launched following the devastating attack on the orphanage several months ago—a tragedy that claimed numerous innocent lives. According to Grindelwald Jr, the attack was orchestrated by Riddle himself, who allegedly sought to manipulate public sympathy by exploiting the orphanage, which had little support from the wizarding community prior to the incident.

"Most of the perpetrators involved in the attack were never apprehended, and those who were caught were mysteriously killed off," Grindelwald Jr stated. "It's simply impossible that Dementors would operate freely in our skies without Ministry oversight. The timing and circumstances point to a deliberate orchestration."

Further suspicions arise surrounding the Ministry's response, or lack thereof. Both the orphanage attack and the subsequent Dementor assault on Hogsmeade saw delayed responses from the Auror Department, which critics argue is not coincidental.

"Where were the Aurors during these attacks?" Grindelwald Jr questioned. "Their late arrival suggests either gross incompetence or something more sinister. It's worth noting that Draco Malfoy, Riddle's husband's cousin, currently heads the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a position many believe was secured through nepotism and corruption."

The investigation implicates not only Riddle but also key figures within the Ministry. Evidence suggests a disturbing pattern of using Dementors as tools to intimidate both the public and political opponents—an alarming tactic that undermines the very foundations of wizarding law and order.

Adding to the controversy, recent attacks on the Ministry itself, allegedly an attempt to destroy evidence, occurred while Riddle was reportedly absent, attending meetings of the ancient council, the most venerable of magical governing bodies.

The call for snap elections signals a potential upheaval within the wizarding government. Grindelwald Jr vows to present his full findings publicly, emphasising the need for transparency and accountability.

As the wizarding world awaits the upcoming Wizengamot session, many are calling for thorough investigation and reform. Whether Riddle can withstand the mounting pressure remains to be seen, but one thing is clear: the shadows cast over his administration threaten to darken his political future.

ㅤ

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, placing down the paper on the nearby stand.

Tom's lips curled in the corners as he tied his tie, making the knots with ease. Harry was always bad at it, even at Hogwarts.

"Are you worried about me, darling?" he asked, amused.

"How can I not be?" Harry huffed at the man's nonchalance. Sometimes he thought Riddle was fucking with him on purpose. "Have you read what they are writing?"

"Yes," Tom said with a sigh. "I already knew that Gellert would try to spin a story to push me out."

"And you are not worried?"

"I wouldn't use the word worried in this circumstance," Tom said. "I expected Gellert to be a little more deft, but he does not possess the grace for more smooth political schemes."

"Tom, are you just pretending he's not trying to get rid of you? He's calling for snap elections, and things look very bad. What are you going to do if he succeeds, and then you don't get elected?"

Tom's amused expression widened. Harry didn't understand if Tom was insane or was pretending to have everything under control so as not to worry Harry.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Harry," he said softly. "And one of them is that no one can succeed against me. I simply won't let that happen."

"You're arrogant, you know that?"

"Many people at the Ministry are loyal to me," he said. "Gellert hasn't calculated his moves well. The only thing I am worried about is that I won't be able to spend time with you again for another week because of this. Gellert is an idiot, but he seems to have mastered ways to keep me so busy that I see your beautiful face rarely."

"And what are you planning to do?"

"Meet with all the people who owe me favours, I suppose," Tom said, reaching out and pulling Harry into his arms. "And because I will be busy charming a bunch of old, boring purebloods, and you've burnt your last wand, we should go and get you a new one—a proper one that would withstand your magic."

"You are taking me wand-shopping?" Harry asked with a smile.

"Yes, let's go," Tom said, guiding Harry to the fireplace. "Let's go get you a wand, and perhaps we can even get some ice-cream afterwards."

"It's cold outside."

"I'll keep you warm. Come, sweetheart."

Using the Floo system was so much easier than what Harry used to do. He really didn't get the chance to live in the wizarding world in his own universe. After turning seventeen, he'd been running for his life, and now that he was an adult, somehow he had skipped several steps and even had a husband. Riddle was fine, so Harry didn't mind. It was still surreal that all of this was real.

They landed very close to Ollivander's shop, and Harry wondered what kind of wand he'd need to get to withstand the other Harry's highly volatile magic. A few months ago, when Harry had arrived here for the first time, he would have given anything to get inside the shop and get himself a new wand so he could leave everything behind and run away. Now, despite all the shit that was happening, Harry didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with Tom.

"Minister for Magic, welcome," Ollivander said cheerfully as soon as they entered. "I wasn't expecting a visit from you. Did something happen to your wand? I certainly can repair it if that is the case."

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander," Tom said politely, a charming smile on his lips, his demeanour open and kind, even though Harry could tell from his slightly pinched eyebrows he was irritated. It must have been because of all the dust motes spiralling in the stream of light like the glass window panes were shedding soot. "My wand is in no need of repairs, but Harry is in need of a new one—one that can actually sustain his magic. It appears that all the previous wands he's held cannot handle the strength of his magic."

"Oh," the old man's pale eyes shone with odd interest. He leaned over as though he couldn't see Harry, even though Harry stood by Tom's side. "I remember you, Mr Potter, when you were just a tiddly little baby, holding your mum's hand, buying your first one. What happened to it? It should have served you well—12 inches, Acacia, Veela hair for the core; the only time I have ever used Veela hair, as they make for very temperamental wands."

"The wand burnt to ashes during the Dementor attack after I cast the Patronus charm," Harry explained, trying to avoid eye contact with the man, as he seemed to be staring into Harry's soul with his milky eyes.

"That's a pity," the man mumbled. "Well, let's see if we can find you a more suitable one."

He brought out a wand made of walnut wood with Kelpie hair, and then several others, but when the smoke fizzled out of the tip, Harry had to put the wand down on the counter before he burnt it.

"Curious, very curious," Ollivander said. "And you are saying your original wand sustained you all these years and burnt down only after the Patronus spell?"

Come to think of it, the other Harry's wand was mostly fine and fared far better than these other wands. Harry nodded, albeit reluctantly. He didn't want to tell Ollivander that he'd only recently come into possession of said wand, and while it worked better than any other, it still wasn't ever used at Harry's full capacity and burnt down the moment Harry put any kind of power into his magic.

"Perhaps I can make an exception and craft you another wand with Veela hair core."

Harry wished he could get his hands on his own wand. He wondered if Ollivander made the same wands in this universe. Tom's wand was the same as Voldemort's, so it was possible.

"Actually," he bit his lip, trying to suppress his hesitation, "I have heard that holly wands are best suited for wizards who have my type of magic."

Ollivander's eyebrows knitted together in surprise.

"My grandmother said that's what the witch in my family, who was a Lurne, had," Harry lied, making it up as he went. "Well, I thought maybe I'd try one with holly wood since all the others just scorch by my magic."

"I don't have many wands made out of holly. Only one, eleven inches long, and containing a single feather from the tail of a phoenix," the man said, his eyes drifting to Tom. "I shall bring it for you, Mr Potter."

Tom rubbed his back, and Harry looked at him for a short second, wondering if the wand would work and how Tom would feel about sharing brother wands.

"Here, try it," Ollivander said, returning with a new wand.

The moment Harry touched the wand, he felt like he'd been hit with a long-lost memory. Something that brought him comfort and made his mind swim in a soothing feeling of safety. He waved it, and magic obeyed.

"Magnificent," Ollivander clapped. "Do you know, Mr Potter, that wand contains a phoenix feather? The phoenix that gave the feather has only ever given another that made it into a wand. The other wand belongs to the wizard standing here with you. Your husband. It must be destiny."

Tom's hand froze on his back, and Harry looked up at him and smiled.

"Your wands are brother wands, made not to want to fight each other," Ollivander rambled on, sounding excited.

Harry could tell that Tom's attention was zeroed in on him, and he was no longer listening to the old man.

"You knew it would work," he murmured. "Was that your wand in your world?"

"It was," Harry admitted.

"Made not to want to fight each other," Tom repeated the wandmaker's words. "You were truly made to be mine in all possible ways."

"Oh, don't embellish it," Harry laughed.

"We shall take this wand, Mr Ollivander," Tom announced.

They didn't stay long in the shop after that. Tom paid for Harry's wand, and then they left. The moment they stepped outside, Tom pulled him into a dimly lit alley and kissed him as if Harry would disappear any second if Tom hadn't properly marked him with the seal of his lips.

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The first week of September was rather wet. Harry wondered why no one had bothered to invent a spell to stop the rain or summon sunshine, especially since it was the tail end of summer and harvest was almost over. Surely most of the crops had already been gathered or were about to be, and didn't need any more watering, much less a deluge.

The grim, sad torrent of days was especially depressing because Tom was away. After Grindelwald's announcement made to The Daily Wizard Post, gossip, news, and speculation were flying from all sides. Tom was busy meeting with all sorts of purebloods to rally them against Grindelwald, Selwyn, and a few others behind what was happening.

Harry barely saw Tom. If this had been the case when he had just travelled to this new world, it would have been a blessing, but now he was mostly impatient, filling his days with reading or playing chess with Dobby since he couldn't even fly because of the rain outside.

And Malfoy would show up occasionally too. He was under fire as well, because of Grindelwald's investigation, but didn't seem too concerned about it. He was now entirely obsessed with annoying Harry with questions about Harry's magic skills.

It was almost the end of the week when the foul weather suddenly changed; clouds disappeared and the sun shone, allowing Harry finally to step outside without soaking and getting his shoes in mud. Pansy, Lavender, and Ginny had sent him an owl, asking him to join their coffee meeting. They were planning to meet in Diagon Alley, grab coffee, probably gossip, and talk about Harry's latest appearance on the very first wizarding broadcast.

Wrapped in the warmest clothes he owned, as the air was chilly despite the sun outside, Harry used the Floo Network to transport to Diagon Alley and then apparated to the nearest spot he could before walking on foot to the café.

The girls were already seated in the outdoor seating area, dressed in extravagant gowns that looked a little out of place, except for Ginny, who always looked good.

"Harry!" they waved at him, calling him over as soon as they saw him.

He waved back and dragged himself over to them. They all got up, hugged him, and kissed him. The warm afternoon sun caressed his back as he sat down on the lounge chair that was charmed against the elements.

"You looked so good in that interview with Skeeter," Lavender said, licking the cream off her lips after taking a bite from a huge cream puff pastry.

"Yes," Pansy smirked. "No wonder Gellert's suffering and is in full cock-measuring contest with the Minister for Magic."

"How are you holding up with all that's happening, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"I am fine," he smiled. "Hopefully, this charade will be the last, though. I'm getting a little tired of the constant spotlight."

"Baby, you were born for the spotlight," Pansy laughed. "Also, Daphne owled me, asking if she could join us and wanted to apologise to you. That bitch! After almost killing you. Can you believe her?"

Well, Daphne actually did kill the other Harry. Harry wasn't even sure what to do with that information because what that girl did was disgusting, but he also couldn't reveal to anyone that the other Harry had died.

Harry nodded, and then the conversation shifted to something else. He listened passively, taking small bites of the cake on his plate and sipping his coffee.

"Isn't that the undersecretary Crouch arguing with someone?" Pansy asked, leaning over the table. "Invite him over, Harry. He looks like he can use some cake."

Harry's head turned towards where Pansy was looking, and indeed it was Crouch standing by a newly opened bookshop, arguing with someone who must have been much shorter than him because Harry couldn't see their face, hidden by Barty's much taller frame. Barty seemed very angry, judging by the way his shoulders were shaking. Harry hoped it had nothing to do with Tom.

"Sorry, girls," he said, getting up. "Just give me a moment."

He placed his cup down and hurried towards Crouch, hoping to find out if Tom was alright.

"Pettigrew," Crouch barked, "I won't accept any more of this tardiness, especially now that the truth will be out and many will need to be informed where we stand."

So he was arguing with Wormtail. He must have something to do with Tom then, since Harry had seen the rat with Tom before.

Harry felt the cold breeze gently kiss his cheeks as he ran.

"People will be eager to support Lord Voldemort," Wormtail said in response. "I don't think—"

Like a bucket of ice water down his head, Harry felt as though he had been stabbed with a million tiny swords, hearing that name from another person's lips who was not meant to know it.

"How many times do I need to warn you that Tom doesn't like it when you use that name?" Barty barked. "Especially outside of our meetings."