Tom was a closet perfectionist, and evidently sometimes, even he wasn't perfect at all. He spied on Harry a lot, through the lens and thought of how Harry was acting like a zombie, choosing to retreat to his room and talk to no one. But secretly smiling every now and then, as if he knew something he did not.
And so began his plan to investigate because curiosity was sitting at the back of his mind and he just had to know why the other boy was acting so unlike him. And of course, for some weird reason, no one else thought to ask, because that right was reserved for him, as the best "friend".
The closest one Harry ever had anyway.
Talking to Harry's friends was reluctantly necessary for one could not enter unnoticed, and so he announced his presence and expressed his concern for the other boy and lo and behold, upon entering Harry's room, he finally saw him and said, "Harry, what the hell are you doing?"
And Harry looked up at him, and just smiled, "What do you think, Tom?" And on the bed, the boy began spreading his arms and legs around, like a butterfly, trying to pretend to be an angel with the mound of trash.
It was a pigsty. With plates strewn around, clothes on the floor, and nowhere else left but the bed to rest in.
And then, he closed his eyes, looked up at the ceiling and sighed, "This is troublesome."
"Who are you?" Tom demanded.
"I'm you?"
"And where is Harry?"
"Asleep."
Tom blinked many times, trying to understand what this meant. "What?"
"I can show you, however, if I do show you, then you better make sure you do something about it, because in truth, he listens to you and not to me. He thinks of me as an enemy when we already agreed to cooperate."
And so, everything faded, and they went inside the boy's mind.
"I know many things." And inside the boy's mind, Voldemort morphed into an older form of Tom Riddle, and smirked. "Harry is as much as mine as he is yours, sadly."
"What?"
"However, you have the unfair advantage of having saved him, and him growing to love you and care for you in his own way."
And Tom grumbled, "What do you mean by that?"
"What I'm saying is, this boy is too troubled, see. In our past life, if I knew he had a part of my soul, I would have taken him in and protected him, so this is another chance…"
"I don't understand."
"Well, in time, perhaps, you'll understand. Harry is just too precious of a soul, and sometimes, he needs a little push. A lot of people have hurt him. He died too many times, and now, he's where he's supposed to be. Through him, I have learned emotions… things I threw away at one point in time, in trying to be strong, I have decided to become, less human, and more of a monster."
And somehow, as Tom looked up, he saw the red eyes flash and it returned into a murky brown, against the blue of his.
And Harry, well, he suddenly came to view, crying silently, and hugging pillows to himself.
"I didn't want to kill her. She was suffering. What is the point of living when you are going to die?"
And Voldemort sighed, coming closer, and taking the boy in his arms.
"See. He's so tired."
And Tom was so annoyed because how dare this random copy of his hug his Harry.
Mine.
And yet he knew this other entity was merely trying to help. "Alright, let's get this right. Tell me what you know so I can… help him."
And Tom pushed away Voldemort, and took his place next to the boy who then looked up and said Tom's name very weakly.
In Harry's mind, his mother died trying to protect him. That was what happened and he thought to himself and at that moment, what was he to do? Nothing. Right? And yet Voldemort told him to remember, that he never knew this person, however, that's what mothers were like.
The effort that she must have taken, just to keep him safe, was something she was willing to suffer for, however, she lost track of what's also important, that taking his magic away, something rightfully his was also damaging in a way.
And in that moment of staring at her, it was bitter sadness and yet at the same time, it did feel really nice to be loved. In some way he was still every bit of Henry Price, and he was every bit of Harry Potter.
And in order to see her again, he used it. A power he should not have.
And that was when he knew that he could really, truly, reanimate the dead and it was a dangerous thing, but if it could help some other people, those that could make a difference… like Voldemort in his head, then he had one of the strongest allies he could ever have.
And yet, the sorrow, was great.
"Harry."
A slap to the face.
"Harry! Wake up."
"Tom?"
"Tom? Where are we?"
And instantly, the world around them, was a sea of white, then a garden filled with flowers. Above them the sky, a blue sky. And Voldemort, or whatever form he chose for himself was sitting with a languid smile by the bed side.
"What did you do?"
"Only what's apt. You were taking too long to wake up, so here's a little push."
And as far as mothers go, the truth was, that wasn't Harry or Henry Price's mother. Because at the very least, he does remember that when the story first started, it was… The red haired woman, who was the wife of James Potter. Lily Potter.
And they stood for peace.
That was just a memory of her. Faded, holding on, but barely.
Tom Riddle did not know it in himself to be jealous. The boy was his best friend. And his. Obviously his.
And all he wanted was to protect him, however it was bordering preposterous. Just looking, and looking for the truth that Harry never wanted to say. Now it was all laid out in front of him.
The weak boy that was brilliant in every way, so perfect in every way, despite how he must see himself. He wanted it for himself. He always wanted to protect him, and his soul, a part of his lived in Harry. It was like a call that he could not resist.
And so, despite knowing that it might hurt him, he learned.
Playing with fire. A necromancer.
"What took you so long to get here, Tom?"
It was as if it was a voice inside his head, chastising him, that obviously, all this time his friend was hurting, hurting and hurting.
And yet no one bothered to lift a hand to help him and maybe that was because they thought he was strong enough to handle it, but at the end of the day, despite having magic, Harry was as human, the most human he could feel. He cared for everyone a bit too much, could hardly even hurt a fly, and died too many times trying to protect what was good from evil.
Well, knowing that someday he might become that, then maybe he could take the first step in remembering what is precious to him.
They cleaned up. Tom helped Harry take a bath. Dried his tears.
"Hey."
"From here on, you have to learn how to control it."
"Did he tell you?"
Of course. I did. He could help, so why ever not?
"And I agreed to take him in for now?"
Harry stretched and looked around his room, and saw the state it was left in. He expected Voldemort would be better at cleaning the room, because… oh wait, he was too listless he forgot to clean the room and there, a white dove pecking at his food, carrying an olive branch.
"When did that get in here?"
"Ah, no idea. But when you say took him in…?"
"He needed a body, and eventually, he will find one. So for now, I have his knowledge or some that he's willing to part with… Necromancy… is an age old art. Not much is known about it, and he's right that we have to make sure you know how to control it. So this doesn't happen again."
And Harry looked into himself, and saw the state of his body. "I need to eat."
"I can't always push you up and worry about you. You were originally, a lot stronger than this."
"Voldemort?"
Tom squinted his eyes and put a finger to Harry's lips.
"No. That's coming from me, after having seen your bravery. You fought him, multiple times it seemed… And yet here we are. We're both going to help."
Harry wasn't sure what to think about that. But he was hoping that he could guide Tom and reason out with him whenever he could. He didn't want to die a martyr.
"There's a reason why you were supposed to be in Slytherin. So learn from us, and we'll keep you safe."
And they hugged.
"I'll introduce you to some of my friends too."
"Why?" And a fuzzy feeling returned because, for some reason it felt whole.
"We can all work together."
And with pleading eyes, Tom responded rather grumpily, knowing that Harry was still a little out of it but at the very least, he was out of his shell. "Fine."
And it really wasn't fine but at the very least, Harry was okay.
Leaving the bedroom and looking out, there was winter approaching. "So, first things first. Let's build a snowman!" Harry hollered, trying to bring some fun, even though he was tired.
And before he could do that, others shot him concerned looks. "Eat something first."
"It's okay to not be okay, for now. Just stay with us." And Harry looked up and saw his friends and Tom just shaking his head in the distance.
"How much do you want to go back to where you were before, Harry? Do you want to stay here, or do you want to move forward?" Hissed Tom silently, in his head. Parseltongue.
"Sehshui Assieath Sishthei hashie ensehhshtiha fyeash?" And Harry blinked back at Tom, with a knowing stare. "First things first, then."
"Food it is. Come."
And so they all went to the great hall and Harry settled in, sitting with Tom who permitted Harry's friends to sit with him so he could sit with his friends.
"And then can we build a snowman?"
"Just eat and stop being childish for now, Harry. There's time for that snowman of yours."
And Harry felt the annoyance of Tom echo, a headache this time. "Fine! I'll eat. I'm still trying." And around them, Harry looked around and they were eating and showing him that yes, pick up the spoon.
"Cheers to the Winter Solstice," said the Professor at one end.
And Tom looked at Harry and pushed a glass of water. And they all tossed it in the air.
"Cheers."