Chapter 8: Ginger Disaster

Both wands felt hot in his palm when Harry used them. The only difference between the Elder Wand of this world and his own was the severe damage Voldemort had done to its surface during the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd relentlessly forced his own magic through it and must have felt that the wand had been struggling against him.

And now Harry was left with this.

Curled up on the small bed in his hideout, Harry's fingers stroked the carved wood, memorizing the dents and curved end, moving the wand this way and that. Such a curious little thing. It didn't feel nearly as comfortable to Harry as his own holly wand did.

He blinked, eyes roaming tiredly across the small space.

It was slightly too warm in his bedroom, the humid air from outside doing nothing to dispel the heat.

They'd been living in the 40's and investigating this past for nearly half a year now. If everything went as it should, then Harry and Blaise should be back home at the end of the year. Calculating the time until they could attempt to use the spell again was hazardous, though. After all, what happened back then had been an accident. And the sword had remained in the ministry.

The worst part of this experiment was leaving Ron and Hermione. His friends must be worried sick by now, although only Hermione knew exactly what Harry had attempted to do. If anything went wrong, she would hopefully find a way to help them.

Harry and Blaise didn't have much time left.

Sighing, Harry curled his hand around the second Elder Wand more firmly, watching with no small amount of trepidation as it hummed and vibrated in recognition, sensing in him the true master.

How odd. Both wands recognized him. But being the Master of two wands wasn't the only issue.

Other than hunting Riddle's would-be Horcruxes, Harry was trying to figure out just how much influence being the Master of Death had on his destabilized magic. And sometimes he felt as if what was happening to him was merely an adjustment to this new reality. As if being the master was somehow forcing his magic to adapt. To what, he couldn't tell.

Green eyes roamed over the wands.

Riddle didn't know anything. He didn't.

The Founders' items were merely their safe way to return back home, while the true purpose of travelling back was the actual investigation into the Deadly Hallows; two which have been irreparably tainted by Voldemort at some point. So far, his results had been disappointing, to say the least. But the important thing was that Riddle remained clueless.

Oh, the man might be right about Harry's magic going haywire, but as along as he fixated on his potential Horcruxes, the Master of Death business would hopefully remain buried. Harry's secret.

Someone knocked on his door and Blaise's head poked inside without warning.

"I'm done with him, Potter." The former Slytherin announced, plopping down on one of the rickety chairs. He looked tired.

Harry frowned. "Already? I thought it would take longer."

"Not really," Blaise said. "The guy squealed like a pig as soon as I threatened him with the heavy spells. Don't know why someone like him would ever be picked by Grindelwald of all people."

Rolling his eyes, Harry leaned back, putting both wands aside, aware of Zabini's curious eyes following the movement.

"Grindelwald isn't like our snake-faced Dark Lord," Harry replied, eyeing him carefully. "From what I read, the man liked to use his subordinates to coordinate recruitment. But that shouldn't matter anyway. His army is finished."

Blaise hummed noncommittally. He didn't look convinced.

"He had interesting memories, despite being so incompetent," the older wizard said.

"Like what?" Harry asked.

The Slytherin frowned in thought.

"Not only did he and a couple of others know our faces. Apparently, Dumbledore's been investigating us, too," Blaise drawled, turning towards him.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. And Merlin, Harry should have foreseen this, should have taken into account that Dumbledore would figure things out much sooner than Harry imagined.

It was inconvenient. All of it. Harry stared at the empty desk to his side, not seeing anything. His thoughts whirled around this new revelation, fully aware that now he would have to dodge two powerful wizards in order to obtain any and all information regarding the Master of Death issue. And Dumbledore obviously knew about it. Knew what it took to become one.

Harry had hoped that Dumbledore would not enter the picture until at the very end. It meant that both Grindelwald and him were in contact just to figure out where Harry came from.

"Great. Just freaking awesome," he murmured.

"Potter, you should've killed Riddle right from the start. One problem less," Blaise voiced, uncaring. "Besides, you should have told me why Dumbledore would be so interested in the resurrection stone. We still have to get that one."

"Blaise."

"Potter," Blaise's voice was hard. "You owe me a few answers here. I've been running around with you for months. And my mother's dying. So if there's anything that I need to know about the Elder Wand business that I don't already know, you need to tell me. We're both in this together."

"I-," Running a hand through his hair, Harry stared at the dark-skinned boy in front of him, unsure now. Blaise wasn't above using any and all information if it suited him. Despite their newfound respect for one another, there were a couple of things Harry liked to keep to himself.

What to do now?

"Look, only my best friends know about this."

Blaise waved a hand dismissively. "You're the Master of the Elder Wand. Big deal, Potter. Everyone knows."

"And you also know about the Deathly Hallows. More than others do. You should be able to figure it out on your own," Harry replied, mouth a tense line. He didn't like to talk about this.

Blaise was no fool. It took only a moment for him to piece the puzzle together.

"No way," he breathed, eyes widening. "You mastered them?" he hissed. "I thought it was just the wand." He grew alarmed. "You told everyone – you told the papers-"

"Malfoy knows enough about the Invisibility Cloak. He could have figured it out as well. But no, nobody knows as much as Ron and Hermione."

"But- That means." Blaise was at a loss for words, but his eyes grew sharper.

"Yeah. I've been told that I'm apparently the Master of Death. It is some sort of official title." Harry grimaced just thinking about it. Saying it out loud was even worse.

The two stared at one another in silence, both uneasy around each other. Harry knew very well what it did to people when they were being told that the power to obtain something valuable was close enough to them, easy to get. And Blaise had reasons enough to try to backstab Harry, if it could save his mother. Being the Master of Death sounded like a solution to all his problems. Harry knew better.

It was a curse. Sensing death and nothingness. It was a curse...

His vision blurred momentarily.

Shifting forward, his feet touched the hard floor and Harry tucked both Elder Wands inside his wand holster, glad that he made the correct adjustments. He needed to keep them close. Despite having taken all Hallows from his world with him, nothing would provide enough security.

For a moment, he simply breathed in and out, taking the silence around them as an opportunity to clear his head.

His magic was tempestuous, a shackled beast that was hard to keep contained. Anything could set Harry off these days. And the need to do something was ever present. He just didn't know what. What was his magic trying to tell him?

"I won't use this against you, Potter."

The words were unexpected and uttered with conviction.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he regarded the other man closely. He wouldn't?

"I don't see the point in it. Not anymore." Blaise waved it off, sensing Harry's confusion. "It's better for me and my mother to have you as an ally. Besides, I trust you with this power. Whatever it is."

Nobody knew what it was.

"You researched the Hallows on your own. You should know that there's no snap solution to any of our problems," Harry warned, rising to his feet.

"And you've decided to come here on a whim, Potter. Despite what you may think, even being the Master of Death doesn't mean that the Hallows are affecting your magic. You're still leaving out a few crucial things here." The other man sighed. "I'm close to finishing the potion which will help my mother. You on the other hand are just letting your instincts carry you on a mad chase for some miracle cure. I don't know Potter. It's kind of stupid."

Rolling his eyes, Harry considered the other. "My instincts haven't failed me before," he said. "I'll figure it out. And we'll get back home anyway. Even if I don't."

Nothing could stop Hermione.

"Hm. Now I know why you're so hesitant to engage in a duel with the Dark Lord," Blaise mused, his eyes following him. "You could lose on a technicality."

Harry nodded, not seeing the point in hiding this. "I didn't want him to become the Master of the Elder Wand."

That was the truth.

"Yeah. That," his friend breathed. "Let's hope for both our sakes that Riddle never figures it out," the Slytherin murmured. Somehow the thought of a Dark Lord running rampant as the Master of Death didn't sit well with his former classmate.

The thought alone made Harry shudder. He didn't want to think of the consequences in case they never returned.

"He knows what I'm after, in a sense," Harry continued, bowing his head. "But he thinks that the cup and sword and everything else is what I need to fix my magic." Pacing around, Harry wondered just what else Riddle knew of the Hallows, if he had been in possession of the book Harry had requested. Voldemort had been disinterested and ignorant for the most part. But then...

This was a different world.

Blaise's eyes narrowed.

"Have you considered that letting someone else become the Master would rid you of your problem, someone trustworthy?"

Harry wanted to laugh. Of course, he had. Hell, even Hermione had urged him to pass over the wand's power to someone else.

"I don't think it would work. And I don't exactly fancy someone else running around with unlimited power. It's not worth the risk," he eventually said.

"The faith you have in your friends," Blaise drawled, leaning backward and crossing his legs. "I don't know, but Granger doesn't strike me as someone going after some fancy title. The Weasel on the other hand..."

Harry shot him a warning glance. He wasn't in the mood for more disparaging comments. Blaise just shrugged, smirking.

"But I see why even that wouldn't work, considering your family history and your ties to the Peverell family," the other said. Harry frowned. His partner had studied more than he let on. "Perhaps only you can fully wield the power of the Hallows, since they're practically a family heirloom," Blaise noted, thinking. "If I had created these objects, I wouldn't want any outsider to be able to use them. And that's why most pure-blood families treat their heirlooms like something that needs to be kept away from the masses."

"You're right." Harry crossed his arms, wondering. Could it be possible? Could Riddle also use the Hallows beyond their capacity? Were they both the only ones able to be the Master of Death?

"What can you do?" Blaise suddenly cut in, his gaze hard. "You only spoke of your so called curse in vague terms, Potter." Harry stiffened, hating how perceptive his friend could be. Slytherins were exhausting like that. Always knowing more than they should, always figuring out hidden motives.

There was no way out of this except telling him the entire truth.

Running a nervous hand through his hair again, Harry breathed in and returned his stare. The truth would help them both. Maybe.

"My magic is out of control, as you know by now."

Predictably, the other simply rolled his eyes. Well, Harry could always deliver more surprises. That's what he was good at, after all. He smiled grimly.

"But I can control the dead."

"Oh, Tom. You shouldn't have." Hepzibah fanned herself, as if the mere thought of Tom giving her flowers was another milestone in their 'relationship'. Her ginger wig almost slipped over her massive forehead with the force of her movements. She was beside herself.

Tom grimaced, already curling his hand around familiar yew, prepared to kill that waste of oxygen once and for all. But she still needed to retrieve the locket and the cup, two items she'd shown him ages ago, to his surprise. Two objects he could have retrieved much sooner if it wasn't for Evans and the sudden interference with the diadem business. Alas, he was here now. And he would gain an edge in order to control Evans properly before he finished him off. Reluctantly.

"Caractacus sends his regards. He would have liked to visit you earlier, but unfortunately his business requires him to travel abroad these days," Tom explained, following her inside and entering the ostentatious sitting room. It was unbearable here, surrounded by pink and gold ornaments and furniture.

"No matter, my dear. No matter," Hepzibah waddled further into the room, searching for a small casket that she had used in order to store her more valuable items. From what Tom had sensed the first time, it was enchanted professionally, most likely done by someone else, since the old witch was neither powerful nor smart enough to even use her wand properly.

For someone that claimed to be related to Helga Hufflepuff, she behaved more like the worst of Muggles Tom had encountered in his life.

"You can use all the time you need to study the locket," she turned and winked at him, making Tom feel sick all over again. "Old Burke would only disturb us both." The old witch batted her eyelashes, her swollen feet almost bursting out of the pink slippers that she insisted on wearing.

Pudgy fingers stroked along the small engravings on the outside, before Hepzibah lifted the casket. Tom knew he should control his emotions at any times, but it was harder than ever to remain unaffected when the only link to his past, to his ancestry remained in the hands of such filth.

"There you have it, Tom," she grasped the locket firmly and held it up to him, but her simpering expression was fixated on his face, as if she could sway his attention away from it. Disgust crawled along his insides. "It's been in my possession for quite a while. Lovely, isn't it?"

"Thank you," he replied gently, reaching out for the locket.

Her house-elf chose that moment to pop inside the room.

"There are two visitors waiting outside, Madam," Hokey announced. "Hokey believes they work for the ministry. A Mr. Evans and friend."

Tom stilled, lowering his arm.

"Oh, is that so?" Hepzibah suddenly cried, rubbing her chin, before she dropped the locket back inside and closed the lid. "It must have slipped my mind." She instantly threw Tom a look, her gaze regretful. "I must have forgotten it, Tom. I'm so sorry. But I ordered two curse breakers from the ministry to take a look at that old enchanted armour I showed you last month." She instantly began to fix her robe, as Hokey popped away. "Oh my, what a shame."

It was obvious that she wanted to spend more time with him alone, but Tom's mind repeated the name over and over again.

Evans had known about Smith.

Of course, he had. And he must have planned accordingly, which made it even more possible for the other to know about Tom's every plan. Did he know how to destroy Horcruxes? Did he want to destroy the containers on purpose, before Tom could even turn them into Horcruxes? Harry Evans had claimed otherwise. He'd claimed indifference. He did not even care about Tom's chosen path, his future as Lord Voldemort, despite knowing the name.

It couldn't be a coincidence that he appeared just in time to thwart him. Again.

How could he possibly know all this?

His irritation with the mysterious wizard grew so much that he barely noticed when Hepzibah returned with two young men in tow, both of them polite as they made light conversation with the witch. She was enamored, of course.

"Ah, there we are again, my dear," Hepzibah exclaimed, patting Evans on the back as if displaying another relic proudly. For some reason, her touching Harry Evans irritated Tom. She was standing way too close to him. And Evans endured it all with the patience of a saint, before his green eyes landed on him, growing wide with shock.

The other one, his friend, grew equally alarmed.

"So nice to see you again," Tom said, eyeing the two. The locket and cup were stored away by Hokey, as Evans proceeded to watch him. Tom couldn't do anything yet.

But then, if everything was planned accordingly, why were the two wizards so surprised to see him here?

"You know each other?" Hepzibah tittered then, curling her fat hands more firmly around Harry's arm. "How wonderful. But then I forget how small our community is."

His friend, Blaise or something, smirked.

"Quite small, indeed."

Tom stepped forward, no longer willing to play any games here. If Evans wanted to outwardly challenge him for the locket, they would finish this properly. And despite the small twinge of annoyance he felt at losing an opportunity to study these two people, he would proceed as planned. Besides, he'd never wanted to cooperate with the wizard in the first place. Not on equal footing.

Too much was at stake here.

"Perhaps we should take a look at that armour you wanted to show us, Ms. Smith," Blaise intoned, laying on the charm. "We have a job to do, after all." Before he could even take a step forward, Evans drew his wand, faster than Tom, and stunned Hepzibah with deadly precision. She fell to the floor and Hokey instantly appeared, ready to protect her, but it was his friend who reacted this time, taking out the elf before Tom could intervene.

All three had their wands out and Tom was outnumbered this time.

"You won't hurt her," Evans said calmly. "I won't let you."

Beside him, his friend rolled his eyes, the words 'bloody savior' loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry didn't even blink. Whatever he was feeling, it was serious enough for him to consider actively going against Tom. And he could see it in those green eyes, a threat forming that spoke of a wizard capable enough to take out Grindelwald.

Tom stared at the unconscious witch for a moment, before smiling at Harry.

"That's no longer an issue, is it?" he murmured. "For someone who's willing to protect the worthless, you're not exactly gentle, Evans." Tom caught the wariness in the other wizard's eyes, the anxiety that Harry's friend was trying to hide. For some reason, he felt more fear and was distinctly more aware of Tom's power than Evans was. Was it because these two people were so different in terms of skill? In any case, it was clear that this Blaise person could be dealt with more easily and by threatening him he could take out Evans. Could control him.

Friendship was always such a glaring weakness. He raised his wand higher.

"I meant what I said, Riddle," Harry forced out, annoyed. "The locket and cup are ours. You don't need them."

"But I do," Tom said. "And I already told you I was willing to hear you out on that. We want the same thing, after all. But your problems are more dire than mine." Namely Harry's rampant magic that even now was swirling around him with barely contained force. Even his breathing was irregular, Tom noted with interest.

"They might be, but I don't care. If you want the objects, you can have them after we're done. But if you kill people just to obtain some fancy items, I will stand in your way," Evans promised, gaze heated. Tom couldn't look away.

"Kill him already," Blaise hissed, angry. "He doesn't stand a chance."

"Against you?" Tom drawled, unconcerned, pointing his wand at the taller of the two men. He would like to teach this idiot a lesson. Predictably, Evans stepped in the way, shielding Blaise from Tom's view. By doing that, he also significantly increased Tom's chances for a swift attack, since the other couldn't aim properly. Idiots, the both of them.

"Be quiet," Harry snarled at them. He was quite a sight, all angry and ready to kill, Tom thought absently. "I won't make a deal with you, Riddle. Not if you go around killing everyone who stands in your way."

"What makes you think I wanted to kill her," Tom voiced, interested.

"Because I know you."

Blaise grew alarmed, reaching out for Harry.

"Because I know what you're capable of, Voldemort," Harry spat. Tom listened, fascinated, despite the danger he was in. "I know what lurks beneath that surface you like to present. You want to destroy everyone who stands in your way, you want immor-"

"Don't say it," Blaise said, gripping Evans' arm tightly. "Are you insane?"

"Immortality," Tom whispered, lowering his wand abruptly. But his eyes remained fixated on the boy who came out of nowhere. "Well, well, well. The things you both seem to know about me." Stepping forward, he disregarded the wands trained on him. He needed to know more. And Evans was so out of control that it would be pathetically easy to squeeze those secrets out of him.

"You realize, Evans," he drew out the fake name. "That I can't let you escape with the amount of knowledge you have."

"We are not your enemies," Blaise forced out, frustrated. "We won't interfere with your plans-"

"That's not for you to decide," Tom interrupted the other swiftly. He did not want to deal with subordinates. He was so close to figuring out the truth about Harry Evans. And there were clues, small gaps in logic that allowed Tom to draw probable scenarios in his head. If half of what he thought about Evans was true, he could not kill him. Control him, maybe, ensnare him, hopefully. But not kill, even if his entire being protested against it. He could not kill him. Not with such a fountain of knowledge in his grasp. But he needed that confirmation.

"I want to make a deal with you Riddle," Harry suddenly said, his magic drawing back. "And I will tell you what you want to know, if you promise not to kill anybody while we're here and if you swear not to collect the objects before we have used them."

"For what?" Tom asked, watching Harry closely.

Harry's eyes closed, hiding what could only be resignation that marred his expression. Tom waited.

"To return back home. To our universe and our time."

The words sounded like a promise to the young Dark Lord. Like a new beginning.

Dark eyes flared crimson.