Howdy Muggles! Sorry for the long wait, I promise this story is not abandoned and I'll post regular updates during the summer.

Before reading this chapter, please go back and re-read the last few chapters so you're all caught up and understand what is happening!

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Tom Riddle huffed his chest, annoyed at the muggles that swarmed the streets of London like insects; bodies pressing close, gaunt faces and dark, grey coats matching the dirty ground below them. He hated the sore sight of muggles; their thousand faces all identical in self-pity and grim looks. They were dirty, their ways filthy and wanton. But he hated even more that they reminded him of his dark times at the orphanage.

"Why are we here?" Tom demanded, annoyed at Harry's willingness to mix with inferior beings like muggles.

"Dinner with the Diggorys. I've already told you." Harry told him, grinning. His smile relinquished Tom's earlier irritation and Tom wondered why a single smile could change his mood so much.

"I know! Why aren't we apparating?" Tom asked.

"I've always enjoyed a good stroll," he responded cheekily, throwing in a wink. Tom rolled his eyes but did not further complain.

They wandered through each chartered, grey-cobbled street walking past homes of red-brick, plain white buildings until they reached a small city lane, the street lamps glimmering in the frosty cold as the fog hung thick. A muggle postman rushed past them and a few poorly garbed boys skipped along the stones, flashing their skinny ankles and limbs. The two Wizards trudged through the lane until they reached a tidy, finely-groomed manor.

"Why did they choose to live in a muggle neighbourhood?" he asked, frowning.

"Muggles make good neighbours." Harry smiled cheekily.

"They do?" Tom asked sarcastically. He curled his lip and stared at the large white manor that symbolized upper-class wealth amongst the dirt of London.

Harry stepped forward on the polished marble stairs and with a flick of his wand, invisible knocks banged on the wooden door. At once, a dreary elf dressed in the typical house-elf attire opened the door.

"Ah, Mr. Gaunt and his ward," the old elf said quietly, it's black eyes darting uninterestingly between the two. "Come in, come in."

Tom glowered at the aged house-elf for referring to him as the 'ward.' Harry hardly noticed the remark and stepped inside. He was quickly greeted by a beaming, handsome man dressed in elegant navy blue robes.

"Harry! It's quite odd to see you outside of Gringott's."

"A relief as well." Harry replied. He turned to Tom and put his arm around his shoulders. "This is Tom."

"Ah, yes! I remember Harry talking about you!" Diggory beamed as he met eyes with Tom. "Tell me, are you excited for Hogwarts?"

Tom easily slid on a polite smile, "I am."

"It seems like only yesterday I was sitting in the Hufflepuff common room and playing exploding snap." Reitch Diggory said dreamily. Tom hid his displeasure of the man's openly cheerful demeanour and smiled back politely.

"Come, let me introduce you to everyone." He led Harry out of the foyer and Tom followed further behind but waited till they turned a corner, far from sight and hearing. As swift and agile as a snake, Tom turned furiously at the clueless house elf. The ugly creature shrieked in shock as Tom tightly grasped it's arm, twisting it painfully till the ugly elf cried out it pain.

"Quiet!" he hissed into his large, floppy ear. "Listen to me and listen to me well."

The frightened elf nodded hurriedly, his large black orbs widening in fear.

"You will call me, Sir, not ward or any other lowly title. Do you understand?"

The house-elf nodded and Tom released the elf's arm. The house elf rubbed the red mark that blossomed into a swelling welt. The creature took a few steps back and stared fearfully at Tom's triumphant smirk. Adjusting his slightly ruffled robes, Tom entered the well-fashioned sitting room and immediately rooted himself beside Harry who was busily greeting a shrunken, old witch wrapped in a golden yellow dress. Harry followed the pureblood custom of kissing a witches hand.

"What a charming friend you have, Reitch. Why haven't we met him before?"

"You know how's it like, grandmama. Work keep us all at bay." He answered.

She shook her head in disapproval, banging her cane on the tile, "Ah, yes. That job I strongly disapproved of."

The old witch huffed, "You ought to have followed your forefathers footsteps and worked in the ministry of magic! The Diggory's have always risen as head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Our Reitch is an adventurous one, he's always enjoyed a bit of danger." Interjected a nearby middle-aged woman, "And curse-breaking is fine work, mama."

"Yes, yes and so is breeding blast-ended skrewts," she grumbled, wobbling past them.

Reitch displayed not an inkling of dismay over his grandmother's harsh words and greeted the other witch with kisses on both cheeks. "Aunt Jenny, it's been a while."

He turned to Harry and introduced the two. After they both greeted each other with pleasantries, Reitch presented Tom.

"Tom here is Fanny's age. Your daughter is here, is she not? Perhaps the two can become friends."

Tom grimaced but hid his dislike with a neutral expression. The last thing Tom needed was to play with a foolish, little girl. He found children to be baffling little creatures that cried all the time.

"Fanny, Fanny!" her mother called. A small, scrawny girl with frizzy hair carelessly pulled into pigtails and face sun kissed with dark freckles approached. Fanny was dressed in a soft peach dress that ill-suited her thin and scrawny body. The second she met eyes with Tom, her face turned a deep shade of red.

He gave her a friendly smile, as what was expected of him, and Fanny grinned back, revealing her crooked teeth. She was far from pretty and Tom knew that behind her timid exterior, she held uncontrollable insecurity.

Tom was relieved of the duty to make conversation with Fanny when a house elf announced dinner was ready. The party entered the glittering dining hall, witches first and the wizard swiftly followed. Tom was met with the mouth-watering sight of tables laden with whole roasted beef, large platters of fowl stuffed with savoury fruit and nuts. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flickered with flames garnered the long dining table.

He took the seat next to Harry, pointedly ignoring Fanny and listened attentively to the adult's conversation as they ate.

"An owl from the Smith's came last night with the most dreadful news." Piped up a young brunette with a busty figure. The feasting witches and wizards turned their attention to her with curious faces.

"What is it, Helga?"

Helga set her fork down, wiped the edges of her mouth and continued, "Zacariah's Hogwarts letter never arrived in the summer."

Gasps and shocked mutters were heard throughout the dining room. A tall, lanky wizard beside Tom muttered a curse under his breath.

"Merlins beard! Has it been confirmed?" asked the grandmother, clutching the cuff of her dress. She looked like a melon in her yellow dress that was about to burst.

"Headmaster Dippet owled a letter himself confirming the worst. Dear Zacariah is cursed a squib," said Helga.

Fanny's mother shook her head, "And all those times his parents went to the extremes to force accidental magic out of him. All of it was in vain."

Helga nodded, "Poor child. His parents must plan a way to integrate him into muggle society. He'll be a laughing stock amongst the magical community."

"What do they have planned?" Fanny's mother prodded, twisting her napkin anxiously.

The brunette shrugged, "The only option is to send the boy away for schooling amongst muggles."

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, he had already determined what a Squib was. No Wizard would be sent to a muggle school unless they had possessed no magic.

The Diggory's murmured phrases of condolences, each one promising to send sympathetic letters the next morning to the Smiths.

Dinner was finished after goblets of fire whisky was refilled and the party poured into the drawing room. The room they entered was decorated in cheerful, bee-like colours of yellow and black, the bright colours highlighted the polished, honey-coloured wooden tables and round doors. Above, hung a profusion of plants and flowers, dangling and waving as Tom passed by. A large tapestry hung over the mantle-piece, a yellow banner with a badger.

He turned and saw Harry engaged in conversation with a tall, good-looking blonde woman. Tom narrowed his eyes, jealousy spreading like poison when he saw her well-manicured hand rest on Harry's arm. He took a step forward but his path was cut-off by a freckled girl. Fanny smiled stupidly, her face turning red as she fidgeted aimlessly with the hem of her dress.

"W-would you l-like to come see my c-collection of chocolate frog cards?" she stuttered nervously.

It took every fibre of his strength to not scowl. "Not now." He said bluntly, pushing past her.

She stared back at him, crestfallen as he turned his back to her. Tom couldn't care less about her feelings and approached Harry, visibly irked at the blonde woman's intimate gestures.

"Ah, Tom!" Harry said excitedly once he spotted a brooding Tom approaching. "This is Romilda, a co-worker from Gringott's."

"Nice to meet you," Tom said sweetly, his angelic exterior hiding the roaring demon inside.

"Oh, what a charming boy!" the blonde witch exclaimed, "I've never imagined you as a father, Harry."

"I'm still getting over the shock myself," Harry replied and the blonde giggled profusely.

A flying patter filled with tall glasses of firewhiskey hovered near the two and both Harry and Romilda grabbed a glass. She continued to flirt shamelessly with Harry, her hand resting gently on his bicep whilst Harry drowned his glass.

Tom frowned, disliking the woman's closeness. He noticed that she was standing nearby some lit candles and with simple concentration, he created a tiny spark of fire on the hem of her sleeve. Romilda gasped and instinctively flapped her arm. With a quick mind, Harry waved his hand fluidly through the air and the flame evaporated.

"Oh Harry! You're such a darling," she purred, placing a soft peck on his cheek.

Annoyed, Tom realized he made them closer. Harry seemed to momentarily forget about Tom's presence as he stared into Romilda's vivid blue eyes.

"Tom, why don't you go get some dessert?" Harry told him, waving him to the table on the far side of the room.

He opened his mouth to protest but in the corner of his eyes, could see Fanny approaching. Internally cursing, Tom swiftly turned and disappeared behind a couple of Witches.

"Perhaps you'll have a stepmom soon?" Fanny's mother teased, her warm eyes glistening.

Tom snarled, a look of disgust on his face as he stormed off and left behind a bewildered Witch. Tom clenched his teeth, the very idea of that blonde bimbo as his stepmom made his stomach quench and eyes blind with fury. If she ever visited their home, he would make sure Nagini took a bite out of her white, ivory flesh.

Tom casually walked around the room, observing the inconsequent polite conversation, canapes and pouring wine. But mostly eyeing Harry and that wench. After some time, he grew too annoyed at watching Romilda's seducing antics and left the drawing room. He sat in a cushioned chair and opened a book he snuck from home and began to read, momentarily forgetting about the two.

He grew lost in the book, flipping page to page and hungrily devouring every sentence. He came across a few curses and imagined using them on Romilda. Time seemed to fly and the chatter and music began to distantly wade into stillness.

"Reading? Really, Tom?" A voice drawled from behind. Tom quickly snapped out of his daze and Harry arched an eyebrow, as if waiting for a response.

"Where did that... woman go?" It took every bit of Tom's strength not to call her a whore.

Harry snickered, stumbling a little and with a glossy look in his eyes. "She went home, just as we ought to do."

Tom stared at Harry for a moment, he looked... awfully different. Once aware why, Tom sniffled distastefully.

"You're drunk."

"No, not at all," he said stupidly. Tom gave him a incredulous stare and Harry sighed, "Alright, maybe a little."

Tom scoffed, closing his book and standing up on his feet. "I want go home," he said forcefully.

"That's right, it's past your bed-time."

The young boy rolled his eyes, "Stop treating me like a child."

"You are a child."

"And you're a drunkard," he snapped.

Harry burst out laughing and Tom couldn't stop the small grin from escaping. His smiles were contagious.

Just then, the same house elf that greeted them at the entrance approached with their winter robes.

"Mr. Gaunt, you're robes." Once the house elf turned to Tom, the elf's face drained of colour, "S-sir," the house elf said, gently placing the robes on his small shoulders. The creature clearly didn't forget his previous lesson.

Tom smiled victoriously and followed Harry out, who was far too intoxicated and oblivious to notice the exchange.

Harry walked slowly out the door, to avoid stumbling.

"I can't apparate..." he mumbled, "I drank way too much firewhiskey."

Tom stared at Harry, sensing his apprehension and feeling strangely satisfied. For the first time, Tom was the strong one whom Harry had to rely on because of his drunken state. It gave Tom an advantage and a certain power over Harry. He took Harry's hand in his and carefully led him down the street so he wouldn't stumble.

"How are we going to get home?" Tom asked briskly.

"We can walk," he deadpanned.

Tom felt a spike of annoyance race through him and he gave a short, derisive laugh. "Have you lost your wits?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, he lost his balance for a moment but caught himself quickly.

"Or... we can take the bus."

Instantly Tom's expression darkened. The thought of rubbing shoulders with muggles made him uncomfortable and disgusted. His status as a Wizard reminded him that he was superior and one day, if he truly wanted to, could blast them into tiny pieces.

Despite his gnawing apprehension, Tom kept a calm exterior and unemotionally said, "Are you serious?"

Harry nodded, his head slightly lolling to the side, "Do you want to summon it?"

Tom rolled his eyes, smirking at how ridiculous Harry sounded. Obviously Harry had never taken a muggle bus before. "Are you daft? We have to find a bus stop."

Harry looked momentarily lost before laughing, "Oh no, Tom. We're not taking a muggle bus. That would be ridiculous."

He scowled, hating to be reminded how little he knew of the Wizarding world.

"Then what?" Tom snapped, "Are we to take a magical bus that appears out of nowhere in a puff of sparkles?"

"Precisely!" said Harry said excitedly before appearing crestfallen, "Although there is no sparkles."

Harry sighed sadly and swayed in his feet, staggering slightly in a drunken stupor. Tom's quick reflexes caught Harry just in time before he could fall over.

"What must I do?" Tom asked impatiently, he was growing wary of standing in the cold and ached to slip into the warm confines of his bed.

"Stick your wand hand in the air." Harry said, yawning into his hand.

They stared at each other for a few, long seconds before Tom broke the silence. "That's it? No incantation?"

"Well if you'd like," Harry drawled, "You can say blip blop blah."

Tom scowled and without lifting a finger, Tom had a pebble hit Harry crossly on the face.

"Ow!" Harry yelped, "That wasn't very nice!"

He bluntly ignored Harry and lifted his right arm into the air as instructed and narrowed his eyes as he was greeted with silence. Just when Tom was about to turn around and fix Harry with a scathing glare, there was a loud bang and a triple deck bus pulled up on the side of the road with speed of lightning. A conductor dressed in a hideous purple suit to match his equally hideous bus gave the two passengers a disinterested look as the opened the doors.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded Witch or Wizard with all the comforts for all wand-bearers. My name is Pat Flarepot and I will be your conductor for this night," the conductor said in a bored, droning voice. "Where in Magical Britain do you Wizards need a lift to?"

Tom easily took control and maturely told the conductor their destination, "Sea Lavender Cottage on the Shores of Galtic Sea."

The conductor seemed briefly confused before nodding his head in understanding, "Near Catchpole, eh?"

He returned a brief nod and focused his attention to helping Harry up the steep Knight Bus steps. Before Harry could climb any further, the conductor blocked the door-way and quickly said,

"That'll be 32 sickles for you and the little boy."

Predictably, Harry reached into his pockets without complaint while Tom glared at the man with piercing dark eyes for his impudent tone.

The conductor flashed a toothy grin once handed money and allowed the two on board. Inside it was dim except for the candles burning in brackets above the numerous four poster beds placed crossly on the wooden floor. Tom momentarily thought all the beds were empty until he spotted a pink-spotted night cap from a snoring witch peeking from under the quilted blankets.

Just as Tom stepped forward, there was a loud booming sound and with a flash, the knight bus was recklessly speeding through the streets. The next thing Tom knew, he was lying on top of Harry who himself lay flat on a four poster bed. He looked out the dark windows and his stomach churned as they whirlwind past Georgian-era squares and buildings.

"What brilliant Wizard designed this contraption?" Tom asked sarcastically, feeling nauseated. He had just recently gotten used to apparition and found the Knight Bus increasingly more nerve-wracking.

Harry shrugged, laying his head softly upon the white pillow, "Some minister, forgot the name."

Tom's stomach suddenly churned as the bus jumped and mounted a pavement; narrowly missing lines of lamp posts, trash cans and mailboxes.

"Lie down," he heard Harry say drowsily, "It's not as bad when you're laying down."

He stiffened in his seating position, "I'm fine."

Harry grinned and warily closed his eyes, "Suit yourself."

Tom watched as a tall wizard dressed in ripped robes and talon marks clambered up the stairs with a jar of fresh meat. He grunted his destination and thumped his way up the stairs, muttering darkly to himself about magical beasts. As the Wizard walked past, Tom noticed a pinkish roan feather stuck to his back and from his recent read, Tom quickly deciphered it to be a Hippogriff feather.

Minutes past and London's busy streets vanished from sight. Outside his window, Tom could make out flashing trees peppered with quaint muggles homes as they sped past. Suddenly, the driver jerked the wheel and Tom landed painfully hard on the wooden floor below.

Embarrassed, Tom snarled irritably and quickly jumped back on the bed, this time heeding Harry's advice and laying beside him. He tiredly shit his eyes and his mind became foggy from the fatigue of a long day. As he lay there, Tom felt an arm curl around him and pull his small body closer. In normal circumstances, Tom would have frozen and pushed Harry back but the lurching and leaping of the Knight Bus made him welcome the closeness and eased his growing nausea.

His head rested on Harry's chest and Tom listened attentively to Harry's steady heart beat. But as he lay there, a gnawing apprehension occupied Tom thoughts until he could take it no longer.

"Do you like that woman Romilda?" he burst out, a slight tinge of pink flushing his pale cheeks at his outburst.

"Yes."

Tom heart stopped as he smelt the firewhiskey from Harry's mouth and heard the dreaded answer.

"Although," Harry added, "I'd like her more if she didn't use her Veela Magic on me tonight."

He lifted his head, "What?"

"Veela Magic," he repeated. "It's a form of magic used to attract man."

"She's a Veela?" he asked, shocked. From what he remembered reading, Veela's had bird-like heads, scaly wings and appeared more similar to Harpies.

Harry nodded, "I'm sure she used some spell to disguise her magic at Gringotts or I would've noticed long ago."

"Wait... does that mean she..." Tom trailed off, realizing how pointless his jealousy had been.

"Yes, she used her magic to seduce me at the party," Harry sighed. "I could have easily resisted if I didn't drink firewhiskey."

For a second, Tom didn't know whether to feel relieved that or angry at his Harry being seduced by that Veela. He resigned to being pleased but deep down, he knew that her behaviour would not go unpunished. Even if it took him years, Tom vowed she would face retribution.

Tom eased his head back down on Harry's chest, hiding a malicious yet satisfied smirk. He resumed his listening to the rhythm of the heart beat, each and every pulse like a lullaby. His head began to loll and the muscles of his face relax, releasing his earlier tension. Limbs and eyes grew heavy and with a steady breath, Tom fell soundly asleep.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep but when Tom awoke, he was laying in his own bed and the moon-lit night sky outside his window resembled a dark shade of blue. Quietly, he opened his door and immediately spotted Harry passed out on the quilted couch. Beside him lay a potion to relieve drunkenness, an empty goblet and a few medicinal herbs.

Harry looked so peaceful, almost like a child as he slept. His messy hair was messier than usual and Tom spotted a scar he never fully noticed before peaking out from under his silky hair. Tom traced his fingers across Harry's face, enjoying the smooth feel of his face before pausing at the scar. There was this sudden apprehension Tom never felt before as his fingers hovered above the lightning scar. He gently placed his fingers on Harry's scar and an intense hotness swept over him, a powerful sensation of magic hummed around them before feeling cold that went deeper than his skin.

Far away, he could hear terrible screaming and Tom saw saw a red-haired woman screaming, pleading, begging, crying. Her body was shielding a crib where an eerily calm baby sat, despite the danger it was in. The woman with fiery red hair was saying something that Tom couldn't properly make out to a dark-hooded figure that loomed above her, his strong magic whipping dangerously. The dark figure raised his wand and suddenly, all Tom could see was vivid green, flashing light that exploded. The baby began to cry, wailing amongst ruins of a once beloved home. Near the broken crib, lay the body of the dead woman. Her once fiery red-hair covered in soot and dirt.

Tom snarled, hating the sounds of a crying baby, "Shut up! Crying won't bring her back!"

Instantly the baby ceased its crying and stared at Tom with glowing green eyes. Those familiar emerald eyes sliced into his soul and he felt a an overwhelming feeling of a bond, as if the two shared the same mortal soul. Before Tom could think anymore, the vision vanished and he was back in the cottage living room and staring into the same glimmering emerald eyes.

Harry's face was flushed, green eyes widened in shock and fear.

Tom never saw Harry look so vulnerable and frightened that he himself became agitated, "I don't know what I did!"

Harry groaned in pain, placing his hand on the scar, "You weren't supposed to see that."

"What was that?"

The older wizard heaved a deep breath, "It was a memory. A memory of my mother's death."

Tom stiffened and carefully approached Harry.

"Who was that man with her?"'

Harry froze and clenched his fists, his eyes refusing to meet Toms.

"A dark wizard."

He glanced at Harry's creased brows and tense face, his curiousity building. "What did he do?"

"He killed my mother." Harry said simply.

Tom pursed his lips, unsatisfied with Harry's simple answer, "But why did I see that memory?"

Cold sweat glistened on Harry's furrowed brow. With hands clasped tightly in front of his stomach he began to fiddle with his knuckles, weaving his fingers in and out of each other.

Harry turned away to stare out the window, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asked impatiently. "Doesn't every magic have a reason of what we see or feel or-"

"No," Harry interrupted him, "Not all the effects of magic can be easily explained."

Tom furrowed his eyebrows. "What sort of magic is your scar?"

A heavy silence settled over them and Harry gently sighed, "It's from a curse, Tom. A dark magic curse."

Tom nodded, his curiousity building like a cat fixated on a prey. "What's so different about dark magic?"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under Tom's scruitanzing gaze, "Dark magic isn't like regular magic, Tom. The curse that gave me this scar was cast with evil intention so its manner of working is unexplainable."

"Is it more powerful?"

He shook his head, "Not necessarily. Both dark and light magic have powerful capabilities."

"That dark wizard... is he powerful?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, "He is very powerful."

Harry stared numbly at the ground then lifted his head and gave Tom a weak smile, his eyes betraying his grief.

"You have nothing to worry about." Tom suddenly said, awakening Harry from his stupor.

Harry stared at him for a moment and then began to chuckle. His sudden change of mood made Tom feel peculiarly elevated.

"Besides, one day I'll become very powerful and take care of you." Tom said confidentially.

"Suits me fine," Harry drawled. "Will you make breakfast too?"

Tom scowled, "No, you can make your own."

"Talking about breakfast, what do you want?"

"Bacon and eggs," Tom said quickly, shuddering at the memory of thin porridge at Wools Orphanage.

Harry stood and headed for the kitchen area, humming as he flicked his wand and sent three eggs into the air. Tom gazed as Harry chose to crack the eggs with his hands like a muggle instead of using magic. Tom turned back to his room in search of Nagini, unaware of the emerald eyes that guardedly watched him.

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