December 31, 1932
It was cold and miserable, only emphasizing the dreary atmosphere that befell London on this last day of the year.
From his room on the fourth floor of Wool's Orphanage, Tom Riddle stared out into the distance at the indeterminable figures wandering in the fog. He is very hungry; the tasteless gruel served during lunch hardly filling especially not after nearly four hours. Pressing small hands against a growling stomach, Tom huddled tighter underneath a threadbare blanket.
Today, Tom turned six - though he looked smaller and thinner than he should - and much like past birthdays, it would seem that the day would pass by with just as much fanfare as it had in the past. Which is to say, none at all. The birthdays of orphans are rarely acknowledged, especially not that of a disliked orphan like Tom Riddle.
Tom has long since ceased expecting anything for his birthday, just as he has long since ceased hoping for his father - any family member, really - to come and whisk him away from the horrible gloomy place that is Wool's Orphanage.
And yet, Tom found himself acting decidedly odd from the moment he woke up at 7:00am in the morning. All throughout the day, Tom often caught himself fidgeting slightly, a most aggravating habit for the usually composed boy, one that he had somehow developed since waking up this morning. Aside from the restless unconscious gestures that suddenly started plaguing Tom was the inexplicable nervous, almost excited, fluttering in his chest that left him somewhat breathless for what he couldn't say.
Until, that is, he spotted a ghostlike beast with hellfire eyes emerge from out of the fog, preceded by a deep rumbling purr. Tom's eyes widened in fascination as upon a closer examination, the ghostlike beast is not, in fact, a beast but a pale, sleek, unusually streamlined car with fiery red headlights instead. A car that is very much different from the ones Tom glimpses on his way to school and church. Despite their essential similar purposes, the commonly seen ungainly, black boxes on wheels seem like a completely different, inferior animal when compared to this pale beast. Tom felt the perpetual excitement he seemed to have been feeling the entire day grow as the pale car stopped right outside the tall, rusting iron gates.
Unconsciously, Tom found himself holding his breath as he stared unblinkingly at the car door facing the gates smoothly swung open to reveal one long leg wrapped in cream linen tucked into a shiny brown leather riding boot and then shortly afterwards a tall lithe figure draped in a fitted, eye-catching dark emerald green wool overcoat came fully into view. The eccentric emerald coat contrasted aesthetically with the shock of darkly red hair reminiscent of mulled wine that fell like a waterfall down the slim emerald clad back. Unfortunately, Tom could not make out the figure's face as it was cast in the shadow of the matching emerald green felt hat perched rakishly atop that richly red mane. The figure was like a splash of color on an otherwise monochrome painting, or Tom's rather dreary, if young, life.
Tom has seen quite a fair share of people come to the orphanage on adoption days. Most were couples and none were as flamboyant as the figure that casually strolled through the rusting gates. Tom tried to push down the flutter of excitement he felt, dismayed that he was not as desensitized at the prospect of a potential adopter than he had thought. But then again none were as strange (captivating) as this one.
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"Don't you think it would have been less conspicuous if you had your steed disguise as a car that's not supposed to be manufactured for quite some decades?" The young man sprawled out in the backseat of said car rolled his eyes at his long-time companion sitting up front in the driver's seat.
"Unfortunately, cars don't improve on its aesthetics until the later half of the 20th century. I won't be caught dead in the primitive things they are making now. Besides, I recall that I'm not the only one enamoured with modern conveniences." Smirking, the rather cadaverous, older gentleman in a stiff black suit met eyes with the young man in the mirror.
"Touché. I suppose no one can see the car?"
"Oh they can see it alright. In all its glory too. Only they won't think too much on the specifics, distracted as they are by its - ah - beauty. I'm doing these ignorants a favor, really." The older looking man's smirk widened in self-satisfaction.
"I'm sure." Though the young man rolled his eyes yet again, a fond smile tugged up the right corner of his mouth though it soon disappeared on a sigh. "Oh dear, I don't feel quite ready for this."
"You've only had 700+ years to get ready." Now it was the older man's turn to roll his eyes. "A blink in existence for one such as I and in turn you but I am well aware that you have not yet abandoned your silly human notions, my Master."
"And I am well aware of what you think of my human tendencies, Death." Snorting exasperatedly but in a great deal higher spirits than before, the young man wandlessly transfigured his emerald cloak into a more mundane overcoat and felt hat of the same color as he sensed their destination drawing closer and finally to a stop.
Despite his reservations, one Hadrian James Peverell, formerly Harry James Potter, could not help the rush of eagerness he felt when he laid eyes on the forbidding grey structure of Wool's Orphanage, and the quarry he seek within its walls. Without further hesitation, he stepped out of the car and towards the boy who had grown up to become his sworn enemy in another life but who will instead grow up to become his other half, soul mate in this life.
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"Yes, his name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I apologize for the mix up and delay but as his closest living and qualified relative, I have come to take Tom under my care."
Mrs. Cole looked at the striking young man sitting across from her desk in one of the two uncomfortable high back guest chairs. He had caused quite a stir with the other matrons and children when he glided in through the front doors. And no wonder, for despite his young age, not even twenty she suspects, he had a commanding presence and confidence about him that would cow many older men accustomed to positions of power. Combine that with his physical attributes and Mrs. Cole is sure that he is unable to walk anywhere without turning heads.
Indeed, as she looked into the clearest, brightest, most vibrant green eyes she has ever seen, Mrs. Cole is quite sure that Hadrian James Peverell - and what a strange, yet grand name that was! - must be God's most beautiful mortal creation. Long dark hair, the uncommon color of fine mulled wine (or old blood), appeared a glossy black in the dark but glowed luminous under the light. It contrasted perfectly against the dark emerald green coat and the finely cut cream colored suit. The expensive looking ensemble, though not of any style she was familiar with, complemented the young man's haughty aristocratic features and only emphasized the elegant, understated power he wore like a tangible cloak.
Shaking out of the reverie she had fallen into, Mrs. Cole asked, "Mr. Peverell, it's not that I don't believe you, but a document proving your relations with Tom would be appreciated. Formalities you know..." Mrs. Cole certainly had no desire to make things difficult for this intimidatingly beautiful man, nor did she truly care for Tom Riddle's well-being, but duty and the law called for some sense of caution.
"Of course, Mrs. Cole. I assure you, I have come prepared." Smoothly, the young man retrieved a sheet of paper from a thin brown leather briefcase that Mrs. Cole was sure had not been on the man before.
Taking the paper, Mrs. Cole suddenly felt a feeling of calm acceptance wash over her. "Yes, yes. All seems to be in order, Mr. Peverell. I do apologize for the inconvenience, I will have one of the girls lead you to Tom right away. Martha!" Dazedly making her way towards the door, Mrs. Cole never noticed that the sheet she clutched in her hand is in fact blank, nor did she notice that a file marked "Tom Riddle" swooped out of her locked file cabinet and into her mysterious visitor's thin briefcase, which proceeded to disappear into thin air, taking the illegally appropriated file with it.
Smirking, Harry followed the blushing young helper, Martha, down the narrow and dim hallway. Dumbledore did have good ideas sometimes.
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Among the orphans, Tom was the only one who had a room all to himself. None of the orphans felt safe to sleep near him at night ever since strange things began to occur around Tom since he was little more than three years of age. And especially not since the incident with Billy and his rabbit not even a year ago.
He didn't really understand how he could do the things he could. But he knew that everyone around him feared him. Even before he could truly do the things he were capable of. He remembered how the matrons gossiped on how strangely quiet he had been as a babe, how unsettling his stare was. The feelings of discomfort only escalated to fear and loath when he could make bad things happen when he was upset. Hurt those who had hurt him. But no one could ever prove it was him.
From the first accidental angry burst, he had managed to gain a level of control that allowed him to make things happen on will rather than rely on strong emotions. His abnormal level of control in addition to his almost instinctual ability to make use of his outer appearance of an innocently angelic child allowed him to satisfy his vindictive streak without any repercussions. Of course, as he was young yet, he was not completely able to keep from unsettling others. The two instances of failed adoption had been evidence.
While he wasn't like other children, for a time he too had wished for a family. And if he was completely honest, the desire to be accepted had only grown stronger. So too had his hate and suspicions of others. Rejection did not cause him to stifle his special abilities, instead, it only caused him to want to stand above them. He was not at fault for being more special, different, better than the rest. They were at fault for their ugly jealousy and ignorance. They were wrong to treat him the way they did and he would make sure of that.
Clutching his worn and only blanket, his head laying unhappily on a stiff old pillow, Tom stared blankly at the opposite wall while he tried ignoring the gnawing hunger pangs. Tears pooled in his eyes despite his best efforts. He hated it here in the orphanage. From the judging matrons to the cruel, dimwitted children. He hated his mother too. He had heard it all from the matrons, how she had died and left him here. At first he had dreamt of his father taking him away, for surely his father must be alive and just didn't know where Tom was. Tom had waited. Only to be met with disappointment as time passed and he grew older while the conditions in the orphanage only worsened. He had then tried to get adopted, but after the first two disastrous times he had given up on that route as well. Still, he couldn't help but continue wishing that someone would come and take him away.
And then someone was knocking at his door, followed soon after by the familiar voice of Martha announcing he had a visitor. The door swung open to reveal a tall slender figure.
From his vantage point, the first thing Tom saw were a pair of highly polished quality brown leather riding boots.
"Hello, Tom." A melodious voice, colored with warmth and fondness that it made Tom tremble.
Raising his head sharply, Tom was finally able to make out the features of the stranger that had so fully captivated him with just a brief glance not long before. He couldn't help but to suck in his next breath sharply.
Despite himself, Tom couldn't help but wonder, was this beautiful person here to adopt him? His heart pounded just a beat faster as the inexplicable low thrum of excitement that had been building since this morning made itself more noticeable. He was unlike anyone he has ever seen before. It wasn't just the way he dressed and looked but his overall presence as if he was from another world entirely.
Suddenly feeling shy at having those luminous eyes focused entirely on him, Tom ducked his head and murmured back a "Hello." For once, the innocently angelic act was not merely a calculated means to an end.
But just as quickly, Tom had raised his eyes back up to stare fixatedly at that handsome face. "Who are you?"
The lovely stranger knelt down in front of Tom and where he had sat up on the cot he had been resting on, completely disregarding his fine clothes, bringing with him a scent of fresh lilies and summer sunshine, a most peculiar scent in the middle of winter. "My name is Hadrian James Peverell, but you can call me Harry. I'm so terribly sorry for being late, but it took me awhile to find you after I learned about you and your mother."
Surprised, Tom forgot all about the uncharacteristic shyness that overcame him just now. "You knew my mother?"
With a look of regret, the stranger, Harry softly explained "Not personally, no, but I am a distant relative of your mother's family, the Gaunt family. It's unfortunate what they have been reduced to, mad and abusive that they are they are unfit to raise a child. And before you ask, I don't know your father personally either, only that he would have nothing to do with your mother and magic after the effects of the love potion he was on wore off."
"Wh-what? Magic?" Shocked and wide-eyed, Tom chose to focus on the only thing he could at the moment.
Smiling wryly, Harry asked, "Haven't you ever wonder what it is you could do and others around you couldn't? It's magic, and you Tom are a wizard."
A feeling of giddiness washed over Tom. "And you, are you a wizard too?"
Harry answered with a mischievous smile and blue bell flames cupped in his slender longfingered hands.
Gasping with awe, Tom stared hungrily at the flickering warm blue flames and the beautiful man before him. Although it was strange to finally know that he had family out there, it was also disappointing to know that they wanted nothing to do with him. The hurt and rage though, was quickly overshadowed by the presence of the mysterious, beautiful, fascinating man kneeling in front of him. Although calling him a man might be slightly misleading. Now that Tom was able to examine him at a closer distance, he realized with surprise that Harry has barely entered adulthood, only his presence making him appear older than he really was.
"Are you here to take me away?" Tom did his best to keep all the whirling emotions from both his face and voice.
"Well, it's what I'm here for, to take you away to live with me. If you'll let me." Harry smiled, charming in its crooked imperfection.
Tom involuntarily clenched his fists, hurriedly shoving away the hopeful feelings Harry's words had ignited. Even his distaste for the weakness could not put a stop to how those feelings almost bubbled over. "Why? No one wants me. They're all afraid of me." Sooner or later Harry will send him back too. Just like before. The thought caused a surge of dark feelings to replace the warmth from before.
"I want you, Tom." Harry's green eyes were firm and earnest as they gazed into Tom's own dark brown orbs. "I won't ever be afraid or abandon you. You will soon know that we are more than just family. I could never shun the other half of my soul after all."
And while Tom did not truly understand the last part of Harry's words, he had heard the almost solemn vow in those words and they soothed the darkness living within him. Feeling a strange mix of satisfaction, vulnerability and determination, Tom firmly said, "I would like to come with you, Harry." Yes, now that Tom has laid eyes upon this fascinating man, he is never going to let him go. Indeed, Tom is a collector of fine things and Harry is the finest most beautiful thing he has ever seen. On another level entirely from the silly trinkets he swipes from the other orphans.
"Wonderful! I've already straightened out everything with Mrs. Cole so all we need to do is to get your things and then we can be on our way. Oh, don't bother with any clothes, we will be getting you an entirely new wardrobe." Harry's smile widened and his luminous eyes glowed even more brightly if that was possible, softening his haughty aristocratic features into something even more breathtaking.
Tom found that he couldn't take his eyes away.
"No, I don't really have anything to bring with me." Looking around the small plain room consisting only of a worn old cot and an equally creaky old wardrobe and desk, Tom comes quickly to the decision that there is nothing he holds in legitimate regard in this horrid place, and everything seems to pale when in comparison with the person in front of him.
"No? Are you sure? Well, alright then!" Draping the warm emerald coat over a surprised Tom and lifting him into his arms with a laugh, Harry strides down the stairs and out through the front doors, ignoring the matrons and children milling around in curiosity and envy.
Relaxing quickly in the warm embrace, Tom sniffed discretely at the clean scent of lilies and sunshine, much stronger now that he was closer to its source. Tom was normally more reserved and wary, especially with people he has just met. But for some reason, Tom felt comfortable, even safe, around Harry. Something about Harry drew him in and fascinated him on a deeper level than he could explain. The inexplicable feelings of belonging only deepen the longer he is in his presence. Tom's eyes darken in possession and he burrowed even closer in the coat and Harry's embrace. Pushing aside the confusion as it wasn't important, Tom thought to himself, Harry is his.
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Walking out the front doors of Wool's Orphanage in Harry's arms gave Tom indescribably happy feelings. He hid the childishly joyful grin, usually so uncharacteristic of his normal self in Harry's hair. All the other children and matrons were still watching after all.
Harry brought Tom to a stop in front of the elegant metal contraption where Tom had his first meeting with Death. Not that he had any inkling at the time of course.
"I take it everything went smoothly then, Master?" The cadaverous, older gentleman, dressed impeccably in a black formal suit that look very much like funeral wear, smirked at the pair as he opened the back doors.
"Tom, this is Mortimer, my friend and…subordinate if you will." Harry's thin lip curved in a rather peculiar smirk. His eyes glinting as if laughing at a joke only he was aware of.
Tom didn't know what was so funny but his attention was quickly captivated by his new surroundings. He looked around in covert curiosity as he sat beside Harry, his small hand clutching Harry's own. This was the first time he had been inside a car and he couldn't help the rush of excitement. He knew that only the wealthy had access to automobiles. And even among them, he could tell that the one he was in was clearly more advanced and superior, despite Tom's lack of knowledge on the matter.
After what seemed to be only a blink of an eye, Tom found that the scenery outside the car he was in had completely changed. What was once a dreary city constructed of grey - grey buildings, grey sidewalks, all covered in grey smog - had been completely replaced with the green of nature untainted by human activities.
They were now smoothly gliding through what seemed to be an unending sea of trees that line a long, winding dirt road. The towering trees formed an impenetrable curving canopy over the roadway, stretching and curving to create the illusion of a tunnel. The brilliant ruby red of the spider lilies that grew amongst the trees create a pleasing contrast against the emerald of the leaves and grass.
The sunshine that shone through and illuminated the leaves, the fluttering of birds amongst the branches, butterflies amongst the field of lilies, and the warm wind that carried the scent of spider lilies all combined together to create an idyllic summer scene straight from an oil painting.
For someone like Tom who has been surrounded by cement buildings and the fumes coming from automobiles and factories, the new place he found himself in was like an entirely different world. It did not seem real.
"Where are we Harry? Why does it feel like summer?" Unable to restrain his curiosity, Tom voiced his questions. It had only been a blink of an eye ago that the scenery had been that of London's grey streets in the middle of winter.
Smiling, Harry stroked back the rebellious lock of raven hair that had fallen across Tom's forehead. "We are currently in the village of Hartwell near Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, so not far from London. The Peverell family has a summer manor here; you'll see it soon once we leave the forest. It's a lovely relaxing place. I much prefer it to our other estates so we'll be living here for most of the year. The entire grounds are warded to be perpetually summer so even during winter you won't feel any weather difference. It's also warded against Muggles, non-magicals, to prevent them from entering and raising a panic over the strange weather or anything magical that they might see. In fact, you'll find that all of the Peverell estates as well as many other magical locations are warded to be unplottable, meaning that they are entirely concealed from Muggle eyes and don't exist on their maps."
Tom's eyes widened in barely contained awe and greed as he thirstily drank in the information, not just over the tiny lesson on magic but also on what Harry revealed regarding his wealth. Tom had suspected Harry to be wealthy with the way he dressed in addition to his polished mannerisms as well as the car but he had not known to what extent. It was a pleasant surprise indeed for the orphan who had grown up poor to receive confirmation that his new life would not just be well-off but excessively wealthy.
"Most of the year? Does that mean that we'll be living elsewhere other times?"
"Mmhm. There's the Peverell Castle, the ancestral residence of the Peverell family, located in Northumberland, two summer manors - one here in Buckinghamshire and another in North Somerset, and a townhouse in London. We also have residences in Paris, Clermont-Ferrand, and Nice in France, Venice and Florence in Italy, and Athens, Greece - all have been in the family for quite a few centuries. However, I've recently bought residences in New York City and New Orleans in the United States as well. We'll be visiting all of them of course so I hope you like traveling, Tom." Harry grinned at the stunned look on little Tom's face.
Before Tom could even comment on the places he has only read in books, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from the front of the car.
"We have arrived, Master."
Indeed, the tree tunnel had opened up onto a wide grassy field dotted with burning red spider lilies and yew trees as far as the eye could see. The previous dirt path had given way to a cobbled pathway which winded across the grounds and led to an elegant and impressive white marble manor that has both Jacobean and Georgian facades. To the left of the cobbled path on the west lawn, Tom could see a stone bridge built over a gorgeous blue lake and leading to a stone pavilion on the other side. As they passed the lake, Tom could see black swans floating across its surface.
Since learning the word 'utopia' Tom could finally place an image to the word. Today was everything he could have wished for his birthday.
Tom was absolutely enchanted.
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Staring up at the stained glass dome ceiling of the grand entrance and the large curved marble staircase, Tom felt a rush of thrills, nerves, and a warm current of belonging.
This was going to be his home from now on. One of his many homes.
"Would you like to eat something first or skip straight to the tour?"
Before Tom could respond his stomach did it for him with a loud growl, causing the young boy to flush red.
"Well I guess it's decided. Graves!" Laughing, Harry called for the house elf in charge of the manor. "We'll have an early dinner tonight. Have it set in the sunroom if you would."
"Yes, Master Hadrian." Two soft cracks the only signal given as a stern looking house elf dressed in a tea towel emblazoned with the Peverell crest appeared and disappeared in prompt order.
"What was that?!" Still getting over the shock of a strange disappearing wrinkly creature, Tom gasped without his usual unruffled composure.
"Oh, that was Graves, one of the twelve Peverell family house elves. They are responsible for the upkeep of the estates. I'm sure you'll find everything you want to know about them in the library if you want. The library here is smaller in comparison to the main one in Peverell Castle but it has all the basics of Wizarding culture and magic theory that will be enough to catch you up before you begin Hogwarts. I predict that's the room you'll be spending all your time in now." Harry chuckled in knowing.
Tom's eyes brightened in excitement and curiosity as he trailed after Harry like an imprinted duckling. "What's Hogwarts?"
"The best Wizarding school in Britain, though in comparison to the schools in other countries I have to say the standards are much lower. A lot of magic is not taught there which is regrettable but the British Wizarding political climate is a lot more conservative, shall we say, than the rest of the world. Still, it's not a bad school when all is said and done. More importantly, it is a legacy left by your ancestor, one of Hogwarts' founders, Salazar Slytherin. I'm sure it won't be a complete waste of your time, Tom." Harry grinned at Tom's brief flash of distaste when he talked about Hogwarts' mediocre standards which soon morphed into one of interest when he brought up Slytherin.
"Slytherin is my ancestor?"
"Yes, from your mother's side. Not a very pleasant individual, but a brilliant wizard nonetheless. I'll let you find out more on your own."
Nodding, Tom continued with his questions, "Did you go to Hogwarts, Harry?"
"I? Perhaps in another life I did." Harry smiled at Tom's look of confusion but did not explain further, instead replied "I attended Athens' College of Magic." Twice in fact. Though Harry kept that to himself.
In response to Tom's wide-eyed curiosity, Harry continued, "It's one of the three oldest Wizarding schools in the world and begins at age fourteen as opposed to the eleven of most schools and students usually graduate by age twenty-two though that is relative depending on your focus of study. Alchemy and Healing, for example, would take much longer to receive a mastery in as opposed to Battle Magics. But then that also depends on the student's talent and aptitude. A lot of subjects considered illegal in Britain and other "Light" countries are taught there including necromancy, soul magic, etc and students are expected to choose and focus on one or more specific fields. It's an intensely competitive not to mention selective school as only the most talented students are chosen and "poached" from other schools. The way the professors teach is also difficult to most as they emphasize a lot on independent study and self-discipline and as schooling begins at fourteen students are expected to already know the basics and even be fairly proficient in their chosen subjects. You would never see them nanny the students the way you would in Hogwarts. Any help needed is up to the students to visit the professors during their office hours. It's a rigorous but wonderful academic experience and I occasionally give lectures there even now."
Harry smiled in nostalgic remembrance. "In fact, I think you would do quite well there. I have no doubt you would be one of the few students chosen and sent an invitation when you turn fourteen. If by your fourth year, you no longer find Hogwarts challenging or feel attached enough to stay, the College will be an option."
Tom was already feeling quite eager to go to Athens' College of Magic already, especially after hearing that Harry was one of the guest lecturers. But he wasn't going to admit that.
"What if I end up wanting to stay in the Hogwarts?"
Harry looked surprised before smiling and ruffling Tom's dark hair. "Then you"ll stay in Hogwarts. There's always exchange programs that you can take advantage of to visit other schools. Though I think Hogwarts is one of those that don't participate in these programs. We"ll have to do something about that." Harry trailed off thoughtfully.
"Which might prove challenging as most schools have a love-hate relationship with the College seeing as they like to steal the brightest wizards and witches for themselves. But the connections and resources that the College affords these schools are certainly nice compensations." Harry grinned fondly and with quite a bit mischief.
While they had been talking, the two wizards had already reached the sunroom located on the third floor. It was a large mansion with five floors and countless rooms. There was the occasional moving portrait of Peverell ancestors but most were famous and valuable Muggle paintings from mainly artists from the Rococo and Impressionist era such as Claude Monet, Jean-Honoré Fragonard, and Pierre-Auguste Renoir, which only added to the fairytale ambience of the manor.
What interested Tom, of course, were the moving portraits that they passed. One in particular was displayed in prominence at the center top of the grand staircase which ended at the third floor. In fact, Tom had already noticed it ever since walking into the grand entrance, as it can be seen even from the ground floor.
But it was upon closer distance that Tom could make out that one of the three young men in the painting was actually the exact image of Harry.
Three young men, boys really that looked not much older than Harry now, dressed in embroidered old-fashioned robes and posing on or next to an ornate chair with the Harry look-alike sitting, or rather sprawled, on it. They all had dark hair the color of mulled wine but only the Harry look-alike had green eyes. Despite the different auras each one emitted, their features were similar enough in that it could be deciphered with just a glance that they were brothers.
The one on the left of the chair had a melancholy air about him, hazel eyes gazing off into the distance while absentmindedly picking at the petals of the orchids in a vase placed on a stool off to the side. The one on the right had a serious and sensible look about him and was clutching a leather bound book to his chest, hazel eyes hidden behind spectacles. The one on the chair was the brother that perhaps drew the most attention and it wasn't only because he was the only one smiling but just the overall charisma he emitted that charmed anyone he came across. Much like Harry, in fact.
Looking curiously between the painting and Harry, Tom asked, "Harry, I didn't know you had brothers."
"Oh, this old thing. It's a portrait of my ancestors actually. Our ancestors, in fact. From left to right is Cadmus Peverell the second brother, Antioch Peverell the eldest brother, and Ignotus Peverell the third and youngest. You are descended from Cadmus through your mother. Myself, I am descended from Antioch, if that wasn't obvious just by looking." Harry paused slightly at this, an indecipherable look in his eyes. He quickly moved on, though Tom, who has been watching Harry closely ever since they first met, did not miss the peculiarity. He kept his questions though. He knew Harry had secrets -he still didn't know much about the other- but he will enjoy discovering them all.
Continuing smoothly, Harry added, "And the Potter family, a light Wizarding family, are descended from Ignotus. There's actually a children's tale written about them and their forays into death and soul magic, though it has been censored and quite different from the original. Rather parallel to the situation with the Muggles children's book Grimm's Fairy Tales that I'm sure you've heard or read before. I'll give you the original copy of it as it is a fairly accurate and interesting read as it was written by Antioch himself." Harry smiled at Tom mysteriously. He had not been entirely truthful just now but sometimes the truth was better left unrevealed. Perhaps he would tell him when Tom is older, but now was not the time.
Tom nodded eagerly. He now knew how exactly he was related to Harry and was eager to find out more. But for now, Tom thought, dinner would do, as they stepped into a large room with a glass ceiling and walls which allowed the orange rays of the setting sun to stream in and nourish the plants, shrubs, and flowers that decorated the room.
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The fire cracked merrily in the ostentatious marble fireplace dominating the large spacious study.
Harry sprawled comfortably in a leather wingback armchair an appropriate distance away from the fireplace, enough to feel the warmth but not be overheated as he sipped at his usual evening treat of hot cocoa.
Suddenly the figure of an older, cadaverous gentleman materialized in the armchair sitting opposite from him. "Today went quite well." An amused observation.
Harry grinned in satisfaction and not a small bit of relief. " Yes. And I was so sure that I would have to do a bit more groveling to get him to accept me."
"Well you're hardly out of the woods yet. What would you even know about raising a child? Particularly one as….singular as Tom Riddle."
"Children love me. I'm sure Tom will too." Harry huffed indignantly.
"I believe the question is not whether he will love you or not. But rather you know what Tom Riddle's "love" will truly entail." A cryptic observation.
Harry paused in his thoughts, mulling over those words. It was not as if he was blind to Tom's possessive nature and he knew very well of the darkness that exists in the boy. And to be honest he wasn't too put off by it either. His only worry that of Tom's continued sanity.
A moment of silence stretched on for awhile before, "I am glad that you seem to have recovered from your previous depressed state, my Master."
Harry smiled ruefully. "I was hardly depressed. It's just been awhile since I've felt any excitement or challenge. Not since Cadmus and Iggy died anyway. And even then, they could only do so much to fill in the absence left by having half your soul hundreds of years yet to be born into the world."
"Well now you have the chance to correct the Fate twisted mistakes of your previous life, no?"
"Mmm. I won't be a victim of Fate again. You can be sure of that."
And as the Master of Death made his determined vow, his other half settled into his soft king sized four poster bed, sated on the birthday dinner Harry had surprised him with, drifting into dreams of fantastical magic and fond green eyes equally magical in their ability to bewitch and captivate.