I hereby disclaim all rights to the characters, places, concepts, etc. depicted below.

A/N: Beta read by Jazz.

Chapter 24

"This is ridiculous," Harry said, folding his school robes into his trunk. "I know the prefects have to patrol the train, but you'd think he'd have some time to spare before we reach King's Cross." Even Hermione had made sure that she and Ron spent part of the journey with Harry after the two of them became prefects.

"Why don't you go looking for him, if it bothers you?" Nott said, rummaging through a pile of shirts in his trunk, indecisive of what to wear.

"It's a straight corridor, so it shouldn't be hard to find him," Rosier said. He was admiring his faint reflection in the compartment window. "It feels so strange, wearing my own clothes again. It's like suddenly I have a personality."

"It's nice to wear some colours for a change," Avery agreed, tugging the hems of his russet robes into place.

Harry nodded in vague agreement, before slamming the lid of his trunk shut. "I'm going to look for Tom," Harry said decisively. He shoved his trunk near the door, where it would be easy to grab when the train arrived at the station, and, sliding the door open, stepped out into the narrow hallway. He quickly closed the door behind him to preserve his friends' modesty.

Harry made his way through the mostly open corridor to the front of the train, where the prefects had their own compartments. He stopped the first prefect he came across.

"Excuse me, have you seen Tom Riddle? Is he in a meeting or something?"

"We finished our meetings hours ago. I suppose he's patrolling," she said, shrugging.

"Okay, thanks," Harry said, letting her squeeze past him on her way. He frowned, looking up and down the corridor and wondering if Tom might have gone into one of the compartments. Surely there wasn't enough trouble to be found on the train to occupy him for hours on end? Harry set off toward the other end of the train, deciding to check the bathroom.

When he pulled open the door between two carriages, he ran into someone he had hoped he wouldn't see again before the holiday.

"Harry!" Dorcas exclaimed before looking around furtively to make sure that they were alone. "I'm glad I ran into you. Do you think you could get Ichabod to come meet me before the train arrives at the station? I've been kind of wandering back and forth, hoping I'd catch him out in the hall, but I've been out of luck."

"Oh! Er…" Harry said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Dorcas stared up at him with innocent, hopeful eyes.

"I managed to secure an empty compartment, so if only you could get him to leave the one he's sharing with you guys, I could have a proper goodbye with him," she continued, blushing slightly.

"I don't know… What kind of excuse could I give him?" Harry hedged. The truth was that the Obliviation fiasco had been really hard on Avery, who felt so guilty about the whole thing that he had started avoiding Dorcas in the hallways. Harry didn't blame him. Facing Dorcas like this was difficult enough for him; he couldn't imagine pretending everything was normal while she was trying to kiss him.

"I don't know. Tell him you want to have a word with him. Just act natural and the others won't think anything of it."

"You recon they won't think anything of it if he disappears to have a word with me, returns who knows when, and afterwards neither of us has an explanation for what was so important to talk about?"

"Oh come on, Harry, have a heart. I know!" Dorcas said suddenly, snapping her fingers as her eyes lit up. "Tell him that the trolley witch restocked on Liquorice Wands. He loves Liquorice Wands and the trolley witch didn't have them earlier."

"Fine," Harry said, trying to hide his reluctance as he turned to go back the way he had come.

"Great! I'll wait here." She gave him a beaming thumbs-up.

Harry returned to his compartment and allowed himself only a tiny moment of hesitation before sliding the door open and poking his head in.

"Avery, if you still want Liquorice Wands, now's your chance because I heard the trolley witch has restocked."

"Now? Is she getting senile?" Avery said, getting up from his seat and patting his pockets for his money pouch. "You'd think she would stock up before doing her rounds – not after."

"I guess she found a box she hadn't noticed before."

Avery stepped out of the compartment and closed the door behind him. Harry grabbed his sleeve before he could walk away.

"Listen, there aren't any Liquorice Wands," he murmured. "Dorcas asked me to get you alone for a while and I couldn't tell her 'no'."

"Oh," Avery said, shoulders tensing before he forced himself to relax. "Where is she?"

"Next carriage, that way. She said she found an empty compartment."

"Right." Avery straightened his robes and moved to step past Harry to meet Dorcas.

"Avery, I'm sorry," Harry couldn't help saying.

"Don't say anything to me," Avery snapped, pulling his arm out of Harry's reach. "You've done enough."

Harry watched him walk away and slam the carriage door closed behind him. He felt terrible, but he couldn't bring himself to regret having Dorcas Obliviated. If the gossip had got out of hand, something even worse would have followed. A few memory charms and an irritated Tom were a small price to pay in Harry's books when the alternative was Tom's payback in the form of anything from mysterious poisons to nasty Dark curses.

He hoped that Avery would come around eventually. He was one of Harry's closest companions and losing his friendship was an unbearable thought.

Harry shook himself out of these dispiriting thoughts and continued his search for the elusive Tom. He still had yet to check the bathroom. To his surprise, there wasn't even a line in the corridor.

The boys' loo appeared deserted at first, but a closer look revealed that one stall was suspiciously occupied. The lock was red but Harry couldn't see any feet through the gap under the door and there was no sound coming from inside. Harry hesitated outside the door, hand held up ready to knock – if it wasn't Tom inside, this could turn into an awkward situation. In the end, he steeled himself and knocked on the door.

"Everything alright in there?" he asked.

A moment passed, and then the lock turned green. Harry waited for a further reaction, but when none was forthcoming he braved the door and cracked it open with care. He took a look inside and straightened up, throwing the door wide open.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Tom was sitting on the gleaming tiled floor of the cubicle, which meant the empty stall had been just an illusion. He was leaning his back against the partition wall, arms on his bent knees. His wand dangled carelessly from his elegant fingers.

Tom shrugged, tilting his head back against the wall to look up at Harry.

"Brooding?" Harry hazarded, judging from his expression.

"It's my last chance to use magic like this before the holidays," Tom said, waving his wand in a lazy circle, indicating at the cubicle.

Belatedly, Harry looked around and saw a brilliant mosaic of the Hogwarts crest, a green-shaded lamp that could have been stolen from their common room, and – of all things – a fire poker stand wrought from cast iron snakes that slithered and twisted around each other sleepily. Something clenched in Harry's chest at the sight of it stepped into the stall – which was much bigger on the inside than it was supposed to be – and closed the door behind him, turning the lock as he did. He sat down next to Tom on the floor.

"I'll come and visit you as often as I can, you know," Harry comforted. "I'm sure my grandparents will want to invite you for dinner, and I bet you'll be in and out of the house a lot. Maybe they'll even let you stay over for part of the holiday."

"It won't be as bad as most summers," Tom agreed, but he sounded apathetic rather than optimistic.

Harry didn't know what to say. He knew what it was like to dread the summer holidays – being forced to stay with Muggles he hated and not even having his magic to defend himself with. No amount of encouraging words could have made him feel better about returning to Privet Drive; he was sure that Tom was no different when it came to the orphanage. But maybe he could take Tom's mind off the orphanage for a short while.

Harry shifted so that he was facing Tom. "Look, we're still at Hogwarts, technically," he said. "There's almost an hour left before we have to leave. That's plenty of time." Tom looked at him from under his fringe; Harry reached out his hand to brush it aside and sink his fingers into Tom's hair. Tom leaned into the touch slightly, which was enough encouragement for Harry to press his lips against Tom's own. Tom kissed him back, opening his mouth to let him in. Then Harry felt him chuckle into the kiss and he pulled away to give him a querying look.

"Now I'm glad I didn't go on a raging rampage in here instead, though it crossed my mind," Tom said with wry amusement in his eyes.

"I dunno – a quickie might have calmed you down." Harry laid his hand on Tom's ankle, moving it up his calf and under the hem of his robes.

Tom lowered his leg, stretching it out on the floor to give Harry's hand better access. Harry followed the inseam of his trousers, pushing Tom's robes up as he went, but stopped teasingly just shy of the desired destination.

"Come on – you have to do more than just sit there," he said.

"I thought you were going to comfort me because I'm so sad," Tom said cheekily, but reached for Harry's belt buckle without hesitation.

"I'm not as selfless as that," Harry murmured against the curve of Tom's jaw as he brought his hand up the rest of the way.

A while later Harry had lost his glasses to the vicinity of the poker stand and he had Tom firmly pinned against the floor. In their excitement he had quite forgotten where they were, so it took longer than it should have for the sound of the door opening outside the cubicle to filter in through the haze. The footsteps were impossible to miss, though, and Harry froze in horror. He tried to push himself up, but Tom grabbed his robes and kept him in place.

"He can't see us, or hear us," he said. "I've charmed the stall."

"But I can see him," Harry whispered frantically, staring through the narrow gap under the door with wide eyes. His vision was dreadful without his glasses, but even he could make out the blurry shadows of the mystery person's feet as he walked past them to the urinals. "And hear him," he added, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut when the splashing sound reached his ears.

"He'll leave soon," Tom said, sounding entirely too amused by the situation.

"He's going to see the lock is red," Harry pointed out. He braced himself on his hands to look down at Tom. "He'll think it's odd that nobody seems to be inside."

"He – like any other wizard – will think that whoever is inside wants to be left alone," Tom said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"...Oh," Harry said, feeling stupid. "Well, you didn't have to open the door for me."

"I didn't mind when it was you."

The person moved to the sink to wash his hands, taking his time. Tom grew tired of waiting and stuck his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around them both and squeezing pointedly. Harry moaned and thrust into the grip before he could help himself.

"He's still out there!" he hissed, forcing his hips to stay still.

"And he still can't hear us," Tom said, setting an unrelenting rhythm. "Have some faith in my casting."

"Your casting isn't the problem," Harry choked out before giving up and moving with him. "I can't believe we're doing this."

Tom laughed quietly, but was soon too busy gasping for breath.

When they were done, the bathroom was deserted again, the only sounds disturbing their privacy the faint clunking of the moving train and the creaking of the green-shaded lamp on its chain. Harry lay down on his side next to Tom, feeling boneless with satisfaction.

"That was fun," Tom said with a breathless chuckle.

"This will go down as the weirdest place where we've ever done that," Harry said.

"Doesn't the Chamber of Secrets count?"

"That was all hands, though, wasn't it?"

"Ah, my mistake. We'll have to go back, and this time we won't use our hands."

Harry giggled helplessly into Tom's shoulder. Then he caught sight of his wrist watch and sat up quickly. "Oh bugger – the train will reach the station any minute now, and you haven't even changed out of your uniform yet."

Tom groaned and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, the last trace of contentment replaced with gritty determination as he pushed himself upright. "We should get going, then," he said.

Harry fought a feeling of disappointment as he fetched his spectacles from the corner. Tom had been distracted for a while, and that was all that counted.

They cleaned up with a few well-placed spells, straightening their clothes before Tom turned to face the warped cubicle. He waved his wand, non-verbally lifting all of the charms and conjurations he had cast there. The decorations vanished and Harry had to take a hasty step closer to Tom as the walls closed in on them. The floor lost its clean sheen and became a grubby grey that made Harry wrinkle his nose.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said and unlocked the door.

The train was slowing down marginally as it approached King's Cross, and the corridor was now quite crowded as the most impatient were already preparing to disembark. Harry and Tom hurried through the carriages, wiggling around loiterers and climbing over trunks, and arrived at their compartment with a few minutes to spare.

"What took you so long? We're almost at the station!" Rosier said as they entered and Tom went straight for his trunk, flinging the lid open.

The compartment had become a cramped chaos, as the boys had taken their luggage down from the racks. The clutter occupied most of the floor space and half of the seats. Avery, who had returned to the compartment before Harry, sat squeezed between the window and a suitcase, while Nott perched on top of a pile of trunks.

"We lost track of time," Harry said. Rosier looked suspiciously between him and Tom. Belatedly, Harry touched the back of his hand against his cheek, finding his face still flushed. Rosier rolled his eyes with a smirk.

Tom pulled his uniform robes off and stashed them in his trunk before closing the lid again. Then he pulled a padlock out of his trouser pocket and snapped it in place. Harry knew it must have galled him to strip his trunk of all of its advanced locking charms and jinx traps and use a Muggle mechanism to secure his belongings instead.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked him.

Tom rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt – if it bothered him that he was the only boy in the compartment not wearing a wizard's robes, he didn't show it. "I think we're better off waiting in here until the crowd has thinned a little," he said.

The train pulled up to the station and the students began to disembark. When their group had clambered down to the platform, Lestrange came bounding over to them. He, Mulciber, and Dolohov had travelled in a different part of the train, because they couldn't all fit in the same compartment.

"This is it, fellows – the moment of sentiment," he said with a grin before turning and waving his arm at Dolohov and Mulciber, both of whom had already met their parents on the platform. "Oi, you losers! Light a fire under it! Or did you forget about your friends already?"

Harry could see Dolohov rolling his eyes before kissing his mother on the cheek and excusing himself. A moment later he and Mulciber joined the group.

"As I was saying," Lestrange said, "this is goodbye, then, isn't it? No more eating every meal together and living like a family."

"Oh, come off it," Rosier scoffed. "If we're a family, then you're the embarrassing uncle who turns up drunk to every gathering."

"Oi, I'm trying to have a moment here. Anyway, we'll be seeing each other over the summer, if I have any say in it."

"You mean like last year? I thought you got into trouble with your parents for that," Dolohov said.

"Yeah, but this time I'm going to ask for permission before throwing a house party. I'm sure they'll agree to it if I don't invite Flint and Parkinson and we stay in the East Wing."

"Well, even if you don't get permission, we're still going to keep in touch over the holidays. There's Floo, and if nothing else, we can write," Rosier said.

"I'm going to Morocco with my family on the nineteenth," Avery said. "We'll stay for the rest of the holiday."

"But everyone else is staying in the country?" Lestrange asked. "Great. I'll try and arrange the party before you have to leave, Avery."

After that and a last round of goodbyes the boys all drifted their separate ways, reuniting with their families. Tom grabbed one end of his trunk, clenching his jaw. Before he could take a step towards the portal leading to Muggle London, Harry placed a hand on his elbow.

"Come on, let's find my grandparents and I'll introduce you," he said.

Harry could feel Tom's shoulders relax marginally, though to a casual observer he wouldn't have appeared tense in the first place. "Alright," Tom said. Harry let go of his arm and hefted his own trunk, looking around for his grandparents.

He spotted them standing nearby and they waved at him, like they had been waiting for him to notice them the whole time. Harry guessed they hadn't wanted to intrude on his friends' goodbyes. Harry waved back and started dragging his trunk towards them.

"Harry, welcome back! It's so good to see you!" Iris exclaimed, folding him into a hug.

"It's good to see you, too," Harry said, smiling.

"How have you been?" Howard asked, laying a firm, fatherly pat on his shoulder. "You haven't written since before your exams."

"I'm fine. This," Harry said, taking a step back and indicating at Tom, "is Tom Riddle. Uh, I told you about him."

Iris's smile widened when she saw Tom, her eyes lighting up with joy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Riddle. Or may I call you Tom? I am Iris Potter," she said, offering her hand to be shaken.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Potter. And yes – please, call me Tom," Tom said, turning on his most charming smile as he shook her hand.

"Then I must insist that you call me Iris. This is my husband, Howard."

"How do you do," Howard said, taking his turn shaking hands.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Potter," Tom said.

Harry observed the introduction, watching his grandparents' faces carefully. He was relieved to find mostly positive signals in their expressions. He had written in one of his letters that he and Tom were back together, but he had been vague on the exact circumstances of how they had made up. He had been worried that after witnessing the dreadful aftermath of his and Tom's break up, Iris and Howard might be a bit leery of Tom on principle. Fortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.

"Tom will be staying in London during the summer, as well," Harry said. "We've talked about keeping in touch and visiting…" He drifted of, unsure if bringing up the orphanage would be stepping on Tom's toes.

"I'm sure the matron of the orphanage won't mind visitors coming as often as they please, and I'm usually allowed to come and go at my own discretion," Tom said with a smile that betrayed none of the loathing he felt for the orphanage and every Muggle that ever stepped foot in it.

To their credit, both Iris and Howard managed not to show their pity on their faces.

"Oh, but you must come and have dinner with us in our home," Iris said immediately.

"I would love to, if you would have me."

"And it won't do for you boys to loiter about in the city, just the two of you – it isn't safe these days, especially in the Muggle neighbourhoods. If Harry wishes to invite you over to our house and no trouble comes up, I'm sure we can find an arrangement that satisfies everybody."

"Does lunch on Saturday sound good to you?" Howard interjected, addressing Tom. "We would like to get to know you better, first."

"Saturday works well for me. Thank you for the invitation."

"We'll be glad to have you."

"Would you two like a moment alone to say goodbye?" Iris suggested.

"Thanks, that'd be great. Why don't I walk you to the gate?" Harry said, addressing the latter to Tom.

"It was an honour meeting you, Mr and Mrs Potter," Tom said before going with Harry.

"That went pretty well," Harry said when they were out of ear shot.

"They seem like decent people," Tom said, but the charm had gone out of his voice and the words came out as a brooding statement.

"Try and hang in there. I'll come and drag you out of that place as often as I can."

"I know, and I look forward to it," Tom said and gave him a reassuring smile. It was strained but genuine and Harry was glad he didn't feel the need to pretend everything was alright when it was just him and Harry.

"And I promise," Harry said, lowering his voice and pulling Tom closer with a teasing smirk, "that the next time won't be on the Hogwarts Express on the way back to school."

"Well, I should hope not – we've already done that," Tom quipped, earning a grin from Harry.

"I hope we won't have to sneak around too much," Harry said as they stopped to stand next to the barrier leading to platforms nine and ten. "I don't think I fully appreciated how lucky we were to sleep in the same dorm at school."

"We'll manage, somehow. I should go now."

"I'll see you soon – tomorrow or the day after."

"Don't hurry on my account. I don't want to keep you from your family."

"Don't be stupid," Harry said and tugged him into a kiss. He kept it chaste but lingered in the touch before pulling away. "See you later. Take care."

"Later, then," Tom relented, smiling slightly. He adjusted his grip on the handle of his trunk and walked through the barrier with his head held high.

Harry sighed and turned away after the last trace of him had disappeared. He returned to his waiting grandparents.

"Oh Harry, he's so handsome!" Iris enthused when he came back. "I couldn't have imagined such a good-looking young man!"

"He's polite, too," Howard said. "Or was he just laying on the charm?"

"I'm sure he genuinely wanted to make a good first impression," Harry said.

"We were ever so happy when we read your news that you two had resolved your argument," Iris said.

"Yes, well, I'll reserve my judgment until I meet him properly," Howard said. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah, let's go."

The return to Number Seven, Candeed Court was a happy occasion. His family sat him down for tea and insisted on catching up, asking questions about the O.W.L.s, the leaving feast and who had won the House Cup (Gryffindor), and his friends and what plans they had for the summer. They also asked about Tom, and this time Harry was more forthcoming on the subject than he had been previously.

The next day Howard had to go back to work and Harry had lunch alone with Iris in the kitchen. Before he could awkwardly bring up his desire to run off to Muggle London instead of spending the first day of summer break with her, Iris smiled mischievously and asked him where in the city Tom lived and if Harry needed a lift.

"I can take the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and go from there. It's a bit of a walk, but nothing I can't handle," Harry said.

"Are you sure you know where you're going? Muggle London is so big and confusing and you haven't been there since you came here, have you?"

"Tom gave me directions and they seem pretty precise," Harry said, pulling the slip of parchment Tom had given him out of his pocket. Iris took it from him and looked it over.

"Well, this looks thorough. He even drew a little map. But be careful out there – the Muggles are at war, too. Be sure to have your wand close at hand; if there's a dangerous situation, I'd rather you break the Statute of Secrecy than risk getting hurt. I'll give you some money in case you decide to go to Diagon Alley."

That was how Harry found himself standing outside Wool's Orphanage. He eyed the cast iron gate, the complete lack of a tended yard, and the dreary façade with apprehension. No wonder Tom didn't want to come back here. Eventually he shook himself and pushed the gate open, stepping up to the door. He rang the doorbell and waited, feeling slightly nervous.

The door was opened by a young woman – only a few years older than Harry – in a faded but neatly ironed black dress and a white apron. She paused when she saw Harry, looking at him up and down. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Tom Riddle."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Who's asking? Why do you need him?"

"Harry Potter. I'm a friend of his from school."

"No friend of his has ever come asking after him before."

Harry tried not to feel annoyed by her scepticism. "I'm asking after him now. I told him I'd visit, so he should be expecting me."

She looked at him mistrustfully before shrugging in a stiff approximation of nonchalance. "Fine," she said, opening the door wider. "Come in."

Harry stepped into the foyer, looking around. The room was gloomy and everything from the scuffed black and white tiled floor to the peeling paint on the walls looked a bit shabby. These weren't signs of neglect, though, because everything was also clean and tidy. Even the feeble bars of light coming from the narrow windows revealed no dust particles in the air.

"Lucy!" the woman barked. A teenage girl who was passing through the foyer carrying a mop and bucket froze before turning around reluctantly. Unlike the woman, she wore a drab grey skirt paired with a blouse that hung off her skinny frame. "Go and tell Tom Riddle there's a guest for him."

"What! Do I have to?" Lucy exclaimed, accidentally splashing soapy water on the floor.

"Just go tell him to come down, it won't kill you."

"But he's scary."

"You big pansy, when will you grow a spine? I don't have time to argue about this. You stay here and clean that up and I'll go fetch him myself."

"Yes, Miss Alice," Lucy said as the woman stalked up the stairs impatiently. She set the bucket down and started mopping up the puddle she had made. She eyed Harry with furtive curiosity and mopped her way to where he was standing.

"Why do you want to see Tom Riddle? Does he owe you money?" she asked.

"Uh, no. We're friends," Harry said.

"Oh."

"Why would you think he owes me money?"

"Well, you look rich."

"Do I?" Harry looked down at himself. He was wearing the clothes he usually wore under his school uniform – a simple white shirt and a pair of slacks.

"Oh, yes – those are tailored," she said, pointing at the outer seam of his trousers and the shoulders of his shirt.

"You have sharp eyes."

Lucy shrugged. "We get a lot of families coming and going. Rich couples, mostly, looking for a baby to adopt."

"Oh," Harry said awkwardly.

"I didn't know Tom Riddle had any friends."

"He has loads of friends at school," Harry said a touch frostily.

"You're the first one to come and visit him in all these years, though."

"He doesn't want most of his friends to see where he lives."

"I see." Lucy lifted her chin stiffly at the slight. "I guess he has to try and fit in with his betters at that posh school of yours. Which school is it, anyway? For all he acts high and mighty, he's all too reluctant to tell anyone where he's getting his superior schooling."

Before Harry could retort, Tom's voice interjected smoothly from above: "It's a very exclusive public school that you could never hope to attend." Both Harry and Lucy looked up to see him descending the stairs. "Only those who are personally invited may enrol."

Behind him came Alice, who had picked up a pile of linens somewhere along the way and appeared very busy indeed with her brisk walk and heavy frown. "Nobody likes a braggart," she said. "You'll need Mrs Cole's permission if you want to bring your guest into your room."

"That's unnecessary – we'll be heading out now. Right, Harry?" Tom said. He came to a stop when he reached Harry and Lucy, giving the girl a cool look down the nose. Lucy ducked her head behind her mop, biting her lip anxiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine with that," Harry said.

"Good. Let's go."

They left the building, Harry scurrying to keep up with Tom's swift strides. It was like Tom couldn't get away from the orphanage soon enough, which was probably true.

"What have you got there?" Harry asked, pointing at the satchel Tom was clutching to his hip.

"Just some things I need to sell."

"Oh?"

"The Hogwarts fund for the underprivileged is a noble concept, but in practice it's woefully lacking and hardly provides for a year's worth of school supplies."

"So, what sort of things do you have in there? Where are you going to sell them?" Harry didn't have to ask where Tom had acquired his wares. He sure couldn't have bought them with honest money.

"Lost and found things," Tom said with a wry smile. "We're going to Knockturn Alley."

"Knockturn Alley? But we're dressed like Muggles! Or did you pack robes in there, too?" Harry said, eyeing the satchel again.

"We aren't dressed 'like Muggles'," Tom lectured. "It's a hot summer day, so we've foregone our extra layers because we are not allowed to use Cooling Charms out of school. You will find that the people on Knockturn Alley don't worry too much about the appearance of their business associates."

"I thought the people on Knockturn Alley would be the first to judge a bloke who isn't dressed like a proper wizard," Harry remarked.

Tom snorted. "Why would they? They may be wizards and witches, but hardly any of them could call themselves proper."

They walked to Charing Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron appeared squeezed between a bakery and a barber's shop.

"Care for a drink?" Harry asked when they entered the pub.

"Maybe later."

So they made their way straight to the grimy backyard and the portal into Diagon Alley. Harry stopped short at the brick wall.

"Hang on," he said. "Can we open the passage with magic without getting official warnings for underage casting?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "This is wizarding London. The likelihood of other wizards interfering with our Traces while we're here is absolute, so the Ministry won't know which spells are ours and which are not."

"Oh, right," Harry said, pulling out his wand and tapping the correct brick to open the portal. "It's so unfair that magic-raised kids are basically exempt from the underage sorcery law, but if you live in a Muggle neighbourhood, you get bombarded by Ministry owls even when someone else happens to cast a spell nearby." When his friends had explained to him how the Ministry tracked underage magic, he had been outraged beyond belief.

"It sounds like you're speaking from experience," Tom remarked mildly. Harry humphed noncommittally.

They entered Diagon Alley and Harry looked around curiously. While he had visited Knockturn Alley before, when his friends had insisted on going there for their Christmas shopping, he hadn't yet stepped foot on the Diagon Alley of the 1940s. At first glance everything looked the same. Colourful signs, abundant displays, chattering folk, and casual use of magic met the eye. However, when he looked closer, the differences became apparent. The Apothecary was still there and so was Flourish and Blotts, but Potage's Cauldron Shop was gone, replaced by a robe shop; Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour housed a tea room, and where once there was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions there was now a shop selling stationery. Quality Quidditch Supplies was where it was supposed to be, which made Harry smile. There was a Comet 180 and a Tinderblast in the display window.

Tom wasn't interested in the shops and stalls of Diagon Alley. He barely spared a glance to the wares that the peddlers and shop owners had arranged welcomingly out on the street, winding his way around the milling traffic at a casual pace but with determination that left no room for distractions.

"Oh, Cauldron Cakes! I haven't had those in ages," Harry said, veering for the display outside of Sugarplum's Sweets Shop. "The trolley witch had run out of them yesterday on the train."

Tom slowed down to a stop and turned reluctantly to wait for him. "I'd rather get this errand done first, if you don't mind."

"Do you have an appointment with someone you need to get to?" Harry asked, picking up a box of Chocolate Cauldrons that was displayed next to the cakes.

"Harry, I can't spend any money until I've sold this stuff."

Harry froze before forcing himself to relax. "Oh," he said, putting the box down. He wanted to tell Tom that he didn't have to worry about money if there was something he wanted to buy – Iris had given him plenty of gold to spend and treating Tom wouldn't be an issue. However, he knew Tom was too proud to accept such an offer from him. He'd probably think of it as charity and take offence. "Alright. Let's come back here later, though. I want to buy some of those chocolates for my grandmother."

They continued down the alley and Tom paused a short distance from the entrance to Knockturn Alley, pulling his wand out discreetly.

"Frequenting Knockturn Alley isn't a crime and all the establishments there are completely legitimate, at least on the surface, but we still wouldn't want the wrong people paying attention to us. Especially you – I'm sure your family would disapprove if they found out I took you there."

"What's your plan, then?" Harry asked. "We aren't exactly dressed like mysterious strangers."

Instead of answering, Tom waved his wand in a circle between them and murmured an incantation that Harry didn't catch. "That was a mild Attention Repellent," he explained. "People will see us there, but they won't find us interesting enough to look closely unless we address them first."

"That's useful. You'll have to teach me later."

Knockturn Alley didn't seem so bad in the summer sunshine. The muck and grime was still there and shadows clung stubbornly to nooks and crannies, but the atmosphere was sleepy rather than threatening. Harry followed Tom into a junk shop and watched him barter a wobbly set of scales and a few potion phials with mismatched stoppers for what amounted to less than a Galleon. Privately he thought that this was quite pathetic and started making plans for bullying Tom into letting him pay for everything. However, when they left the junk shop, Tom headed deeper into the alley and took them to a seedy-looking pawn shop.

"Are yeh pawning or selling?" the broker asked as he inspected one of a pair of fancy pocket watches Tom had presented to him. Harry wondered if he had nicked them from the Slytherin dorms or if he was hiding some impressive skills at pickpocketing.

"Selling."

"I dunno, lad," the man said, lowering his monocular and shaking his head. "These things tend to pile up."

"Oh? Well then, if you don't care for clutter, I don't suppose you have any interest in diamonds."

"Now, wait a sec," the man said when Tom started to gather the watches back into his satchel. "What diamonds?"

Tom raised his eyebrows and halted his movement. "Are you sure you want to waste your time? Your jewellery collection is already quite extensive." He glanced at the small display arranged on one end of the counter, holding a few thin, tarnished chains, a tacky tiara, and a grotesque wax hand sporting a miscellaneous selection of rings.

"Don't mind those," the man said, batting his hand dismissively at the display. "I keep my more valuable merchandise outta sight. If yeh got gems, I'd take a look at 'em."

Tom relented and pulled something out of a side pocket of his bag. Harry's eyes widened when he opened his palms, spreading out an exquisite necklace to catch the light – a chain of tiny diamonds with a big blue jewel in the middle.

The broker leaned in to look closely, eyes gleaming with delight. "A-ah!" Tom said when he reached out a hand to touch the necklace. "I need to know that you're interested in buying."

The man straightened up, regaining his professional air. "If the gems are genuine, then I would definitely be ready to make an offer. If I may?" Tom let him take the necklace and he bent over to peer at the diamonds through his monocular. "Are there any enchantments on it?"

"No."

"Better no enchantments than dodgy enchantments," the man muttered as he continued inspecting the gems.

In the end, the pawn broker bought both the necklace and the watches, which Tom managed to include in the sale by insisting on a package deal or no deal at all. Harry watched the gold switch hands suspiciously, feeling pretty sure that the wares were worth more than what the man paid Tom.

"Where did you get that necklace?" Harry asked as soon as they were out of the shop.

"It was a gift."

"A gift?" Harry said incredulously.

Tom smirked impishly. "A gift, yes. I'm sure Ignatius Prewett won't mind that Lucretia misplaced one of his numerous wooing gifts. I doubt she has even noticed that it's missing."

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "So you snuck into the girls' dorms to steal Lucretia's jewellery."

"She had no use for it. She doesn't wear jewellery."

"I'm not going to report you to anyone, but this level of theft makes me really uncomfortable."

"Next year I'll have my O.W.L.s on paper, so I'll be able to find a job for the summer," Tom said. "I won't have to steal."

Harry was silent for a moment as they ambled down the street towards Tom's next destination. "You know, he's probably going to sell that thing for much more than what he paid you for it," he finally pointed out.

"Naturally. That's how it works," Tom said. He glanced at Harry sideways, seeing his nonplussed expression. "Why did I let him haggle down the price – is that what you're thinking?"

"Well…" Harry said. Tom was a persuasive personality, in more ways than one. It surprised him that he hadn't tried harder to make the broker part with his gold.

"I could have Confunded him or even used the Imperius Curse, but it's likely that he has some kind of wards placed on his shop to detect that kind of magic. He would have at least found out afterwards if I had swindled him, and then I would not have been welcome to do business here again," Tom explained, waving his hand lazily to encompass all of Knockturn Alley.

They visited a couple more shady establishments where Tom sold the rest of his wares (a few penknives, a magical camera, a Remembrall, and three telescopes) before they returned to Diagon Alley. Harry felt rather awkward about what he had just witnessed, but he figured that he preferred knowing exactly where Tom had got his money from over wondering silently and imagining him picking pockets or robbing strangers.

After an hour or two of wandering the shops of Diagon Alley, they retreated to the Leaky Cauldron for sandwiches and some cold butterbeer. Tom leaned his chin pensively into his palm and flicked crumbs across the table.

"What's it like at the orphanage?" Harry asked to break the silence after gathering his courage.

Tom looked at him from under his fringe and said nothing.

Harry wrapped his hands around his bottle, waiting.

"I feel crippled there," Tom finally said, quiet enough that Harry had to lean closer over the table. "I can't afford to receive any official warnings for underage casting, so I wouldn't dare to even use wandless magic."

"I don't suppose there's any way to get around the Trace?"

"There is, but even Dark Magic can only buy a few hours' window of freedom," Tom murmured, conscious of the other customers sitting nearby. "The Trace is a very powerful mixed enchantment, more Dark than Light in nature, that dates back to a time when legislation and moral discipline were both stricter and looser than they are today."

"You mean people practiced the Dark Arts more?" Harry mumbled back, barely above a whisper.

"Exactly." Tom grinned sharply behind the cover of his hand. "Think about it: all of our precious magical children are being systematically cursed by the very people who should be protecting them."

Harry's fingers tightened around his bottle at the thought. He remembered clearly how it had felt to read those cold, impersonal Ministry letters accusing him of breaking the law when he hadn't done anything wrong. A Trace that couldn't distinguish who cast which spell was inherently flawed and should never have been approved for universal use. The enchantment was another blatant example of prejudice against Muggle-borns: magic raised kids got off scot-free for underage casting while those who lived with Muggles were watched constantly like the Ministry was just waiting for an excuse to snap their wands.

"I'm a wizard – that's who I am," Tom continued. "But that's exactly what I'm not allowed to be when I'm forced to go back to that place. I'm forced to be like them – I must look them in the eyes and talk to them, take orders from them and follow their rules. I hate it. I'm better than them – just walk among them and look at how they live their lives, listen to their conversations, and tell me I'm not better than them. None of them have any ambition to become more than what they are. I might excuse them for not having magic – they didn't choose to be born without it – but even among Muggles they are scrapings off the bottom of the barrel, and, worst of all, they are complacent in their place. They whine and they wish that someone would come and take them to a better life, but they aren't willing to lift a finger to help themselves. Even before I found out that I'm a wizard, I knew I wasn't like them. I would have done anything I could to overcome my circumstances, with or without magic."

Harry swallowed, staring at the table. He felt like he ought to insist piously that Tom was no better than the Muggles at the orphanage and claiming otherwise insulted their human worth, but he couldn't help sympathising with Tom. It was unfair that he, Harry, could go home and use magic as he pleased with his grandparents' indulging permission, while Tom – who was superior to him when it came to magical talent – had to return to a place that was completely void of magic and people who couldn't even begin to understand him. The orphanage was Tom's Privet Drive, and if Harry was being honest, he considered himself better than the Muggles in his life, too, though for different reasons than Tom.

"Can't you stay here, at the inn?"

"I have better uses for my gold than spending it on a room when I already have a free bed to sleep in not far from Wizarding London. This and the pittance I get from Hogwarts will have to last me for a year."

Harry felt the gold burning in his pocket again. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't an expensive inn – he'd probably be able to pay for the whole holiday up front right now and Iris wouldn't even wonder where he had spent the gold.

"Don't even think about it," Tom said with steel in his voice. "I have no use for your pity or your charity."

Sheepishly, Harry stilled his fingers, which had been unconsciously tapping against the side of his bottle. "Fine – I won't give you any money if you don't want it."

"I'm perfectly capable of providing for myself."

"I saw that, yes," Harry said dryly. "Though, I hope you won't get all sensitive about this if my grandparents decide to let you stay for part of the summer. You had better impress them on Saturday, by the way. I think Howard still needs some work."

The corners of Tom's mouth quirked up slightly. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

"And for Merlin's sake, don't steal from them. That would be really awkward for me."

A bark of laughter returned good humour between them. "Your grandmother's silverware is safe from me."

"Just in case they don't like you, though, we'll have to make contingency plans. How's the soundproofing in your room at the orphanage?"