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Harry Potter, Rinconcito Tomarry
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2021-04-05
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2021-12-26
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9/?
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The Visions Of Us

Summary:

Harry didn’t know how long he was out. He didn’t know how he ended up like this nor what happened immediately after. His mind was swirling under the fine lights of an office and over the cool of the hardwood floor.

When Harry wakes up in a gold-covered office, little clips of memories intact from a life long ago with dread setting into his stomach, he doesn't know what to do. Tom was sitting beside him, hand gripping his wrist tightly as if Harry was about to leave him all alone. Why was Tom thinking that? Of course, Harry wasn't going to leave him; that was insane!

Chapter 1: 1932 [The Past Is Never Dead; It's Not Even Past]

Notes:

This is a fic that's been a work in progress for how many months now and because of my wonderful betas Bettalover and Recanta (and a handful of others who helped including Kushimani who wrote A Soft Kidnapping), I can now finally manage to post the fic.

Thank gods.

Anywho, this is a long as fuck fic that already has 5 other chapters in the works to be edited and betaed so expect either weekly or bi-weekly updates for me to keep up with at least one new draft chapter every week. Also for the people who saw this as The Dreams Of Us title before, this is the same fic.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

"I love you. I feel as though we were never strangers, you and I, not even for a moment."


September 1, 1932

Wool’s Orphanage, London, England

[The Past Is Never Dead; It's Not Even Past]

Harry groaned as he lay on the wooden floor, the warped wood cool on his aching face. 

Damn Fate. Even though Harry didn't remember much, he had a vague remembrance of him being messed with. Every time.  It was constantly him! Always his well-being that was in danger! It was him, whose life was literally a bad cliche. (see: The Dursleys.) To be fair, had it not been for the constant meddling of the doubtless deities above (if there were any, anyway. He's pretty sure there are), Harry was sure his existence would have been very boring. He would still have entertainment in the form of other people! Probably. He knew his cousin Dudley was a prime example. Some people had bad cartoons, some people had their toys, and he had his blubbering idiot of a cousin. The living example of a walking pig.

Joy.

 Nevertheless, the headache Fate gave him was not worth it in the slightest. Why did Harry even have to suffer like this? Okay, he might've deserved getting thrown into the bloody floor (he knows bloody is a bad word, but he felt so cool thinking it!) for turning his teacher's hair- what color was it, again? Green? Yellow? He didn't remember, exactly. Or, maybe Fate wanted to mess with him. 

That seemed more plausible. He wasn’t that sorry for his teacher’s hair.

Other than vaguely knowing that the hellish attack on his head was due to some divine intervention, he wasn't aware of all that much. All he had was his name, a few memories, and his bitter personality.  Besides the select few, it was all quite hazy. But still, he remembers quite a few things! One thing he remembers very clearly is a castle… A sense of home and belonging. He knew the castle was a place he was very fond of, despite not knowing anything else about it. He also remembers a very tall cottage. It was over a pasture, but he couldn't recall much else.


A veil stood on a cobbled stone dais, a tall, ancient archway standing at its center. It was so cracked and deteriorated that it seemed amazing it was still standing. When Harry looked into the silky depths, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. As if someone was right behind the veil.  


Harry shook his thoughts away. He didn’t like the feeling the veil gave him! It made his eyes water, and he wasn't a baby!  It reminded him of someone mourning a lost loved one (And he hasn’t grieved before! He only read about grieving through storybooks). It was a weird thing to feel, sadness for another person. Considering all the family he had were the Dursleys.

The longing tugged on his heart again. 

A dull, throbbing pain pierced his skull in memory of his delightful relatives, another thing that he sadly remembered. Harry figured that they weren't the ones who left him here on the floor. That he had crashed into.

Huh. Probably the reason he had a headache.

Harry would have already been on his back dealing with his uncle’s wonderful care if they were the ones who threw him on the floor. He really didn't like the punishments his uncle came up with for him. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on who you asked), there weren’t any footsteps approaching. 

Having nobody around left him time to prepare.  At least with the Dursleys, he knew what to expect. This place was unknown territory. 

Harry's thoughts grew fuzzy as an unnatural buzz overrode his senses, a shriek echoing through his skull. 


Harry sat on the floor dazedly,  the after-effects of nausea slowly fading. Looking around from his spot on the neutral-toned rug, he saw what looked like an office, a tall window taking up most of the wall. Near the window, he watched as a taller,  black-haired man languidly reclined in a dark burgundy armchair. The man held a blue-haired toddler in his arms.  

“Hey there, Ted,” the man cooed gently at the toddler, who was named Ted, Harry noted. Green eyes crinkled at the corners as the man grinned down at the baby. Happy, incoherent babbling sounded through the room as the older man let Ted play with his fingers. “How’re you today?” 

Harry’s face scrunched up in frustration towards the- blue-haired? It was more green now- baby. He wasn’t ugly, per se, Ted was actually quite cute. Harry just wasn’t keen on spending time with kids younger than him, especially ones who didn’t have the empathy necessary to understand him. If all kids did was annoy and beat the living daylights out of you, and heck- didn’t even care about you in the end- why should Harry make the effort to like them? 

Harry wasn’t stupid though. If given a good enough incentive, Harry knew he would quickly warm up to someone his age.

“That’s good,” the man easily replied to the baby, rocking Ted back and forth in his arms. “And how’s Grammy?”

The baby babbled again excitedly, face lighting up at the mention of this supposed, ‘Grammy’. The man listened with a thoughtful look on his face as he chattered on, small limbs waving through the air animatedly. Harry’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and frustration, unable to decipher the gibbering of the now green-haired child (when did that change?). Annoyed, he sighed. Why did he even bother listening to the baby? He couldn’t understand it anyway.

“That’s nice, Teddy.” the, Harry decided, weird man commented.

Harry stood up with slightly numb legs, pins and needles slowly subsiding as he brushed off his ratty hand-me-downs. Courtesy of Dudley, of course. Harry couldn’t wait to get rid of them when he finally could. They were loose, hot, and always made him trip.

Ratty inconveniences, they were.

As soon as Harry had stood up, the man’s sharp green eyes snapped to his face, green eyes meeting green. Harry was then faced with the thing he had been denying. This man looked exactly like him. The same hair, the same eyes, even down to the scar marking his forehead.

They- Harry’s eyes widened. They were the same person.

A nauseating tug on his navel turned his world black.


Harry’s bleary eyes woke up to brown eyes assessing his lying figure. They belonged to a boy around his age with black hair and the aforementioned brown eyes. He had a stern look, as if he didn’t know what to do with Harry. Harry felt like he’d been held under that kind of gaze a lot of times before this boy, and not just with the Dursleys.

Why did he feel that way?

Harry paused, looking at his surroundings. This was not the Dursley’s house at all. He knows number four inside out and he’d probably know if another boy his age was living in the house other than his pig of a cousin.

Harry sat up, rubbing his head.

“Mrs. Cole told me to call her when you woke up,” The boy softly claimed, though Harry could hear the bitterness in his voice. Even Harry could tell the other boy hated being here. Before he had any time to question the boy across from him though, he decided to do the exact same to Harry.

“Who are you?”

Harry gave the other boy a sheepish smile. Extending a hand out, he told him, “I’m Harry.”

“Just Harry?” he questioned. At Harry’s nod, the boy stared at his hand for a few moments before grabbing and shaking it. “I’m Tom Riddle.”

As soon as Tom gripped Harry’s hand, images flashed through his head like a filmstrip from a movie.


“Ginny, please wake up,” Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side. And while Harry was as helpless and hopeless as the girl on his lap, he didn’t even know, nor remember, who Ginny was.

“She won’t wake,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Harry were looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him— 

“Tom— Tom Riddle?”


Harry was violently shook from his stupor. It was Tom. He was looking at Harry oddly, assessing him with his gaze. Tilting his head, he asked, “What happened to you?” Harry couldn’t answer him. He didn’t know what had happened. All he knew was that he didn’t feel alright in the slightest. His brain was going fuzzy again, like static on the telly, and his breathing came out in quick pants, his forehead prickling with pain.

The room was getting hotter and Tom, despite Harry’s best pleads and efforts to stop him, called for Mrs. Cole before Harry blacked out.


Harry woke up to fussing hands and a glass of water being brought up to his lips. His tired eyes squinted at the bright light before focusing on the woman in front of him. She had sharp features and a skinny-looking figure, quite like his Aunt Petunia, but not with nearly as much a neck. Even furthering in their differences, his Aunt Petunia didn’t fuss over him like this woman did.

He gingerly took the cup and gulped down the offered water, refreshing his parched throat.

The woman sat at the end of the bed he was sitting on, looking as if she was hesitating between fretting over Harry or questioning him on what he was doing here. Harry guessed she was coming to the conclusion she could do both.

She introduced herself as Mrs. Cole, and as the matron of the orphanage, the place he was in. She also explained how they found him. He was lying face-first in the orphanage’s lobby before someone saw him and ran, thinking he was already dead. With the life he’d lived, though a short one, he’d rather be dead. He didn’t want to relive any part of that again. One time was enough.

As he set the glass down, he looked around the room, trying to take in all the details of it. He was in the same room he met Tom, but said boy was nowhere to be seen. It was like he was a ghost appearing in Harry’s dreams, appearing in his time of need, but Tom seemed more like an advisor than a knight.

Harry cleared his voice before asking his question to the matron. He noticed the falter in her smile and immediately asked again if it was alright to ask about the peculiar boy he met, the nervousness clear in his voice. Mrs. Cole immediately fixed herself before answering.

“All the other kids are at school by the church, you’ll be going there tomorrow.” The matron then paused, taking something into consideration before continuing. “I’ll give you a piece of advice.” Her expression twisted into one of disgust, “That Riddle boy is nothing but trouble. Devil incarnate, he is. You best be ignoring him, wouldn't want you to be catching anything from that boy.” She clicked her tongue. “Unfortunately for you, we haven’t got any free beds other than this one, here.”  Harry’s frown deepened as he sipped his glass when Harry realized the hate between Tom and the matron was mutual, those tones, while they were talking about each other, were hidden poorly (albeit Tom’s was better or he was just slightly biased towards the boy, he just didn’t know why).

Slowly nodding in understanding, Harry continued to sip on his water, looking around the room. It was bare. Harry figured the other boy he was sharing this room with wasn’t the type to accessorize. The room, overall, was in very pristine condition despite the drab place it was in. Harry could keep up with being constantly clean, the Dursleys were proof enough.

Mrs. Cole cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of the boy. She told Harry, “I best be off, come down by my office if you’ve got any questions ‘bout here.” Then she left the room, closing the door on her way.

Harry sighed. Even if this was better than being at the Dursley’s, the blatant (no matter how they tried to make it subtle) hate between the matron and Tom was an unfortunate sight to see. The matron was a caretaker, he knew that much but he couldn’t see any of the love and care she gave to Harry, in the few minutes he was in her presence, to Tom. It wasn’t Harry’s problem though, he’ll only intervene if it affects his own life.

This was going to be a long stay here.


September 2, 1932

Wool’s Orphanage, London, England

Harry woke up to a cold and free atmosphere. 

It was a welcome surprise compared to the suffocating and humid darkness of his cupboard back in Privet Drive. There was no shouting ringing in his ears, nor the insistent rapping on his cupboard door to ‘wake up’ and ‘make breakfast.’ Call him selfish, but it was something he could get used to easily. He wasn’t sorry about that thought at all.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard shuffling from the other side of the room.

It was Tom. He was blatantly ignoring Harry’s gaze and silently got ready for the day. Ah, right. Harry had almost forgotten what Mrs. Cole said yesterday about Tom. What was it again? He should ignore Tom because of what reason?

”Wouldn't want you to be catching anything from that boy.

Harry scrunched his nose at the statement when he remembered the reason why. Why did the matron act like Tom had a weird disease and should be avoided at all costs? It was very rude! 

Harry knew that firsthand.

It made Harry think though. It was curious why matron had such a hostile attitude towards Tom and Harry was determined to find out why. Harry wanted to know why he’s being treated like this and maybe become his first friend. That was normal right? He didn’t have that much experience in the friendship department.

Harry sighed wearily. He really should start getting ready for today. “Good Morning,” he greeted but only got a disinterested hum in return. Gods, Harry knew this was going to be a long while before Tom even considered talking to him.

While musing over his thoughts, the room’s door clicked shut, Tom no longer in the room. Harry sighed again, he should get dressed now.


Climbing down the staircase, Harry felt an ache in his knees from working too much in- where was it again? He remembered the smells of morning dew and flowers. 

It was definitely a garden now that Harry thought about it.

Stepping down at the base of the stairs, he wandered the long corridor of the ground floor, finding the main cafeteria through the loud chatter of the other orphans. The door was slightly ajar, open enough to see the boisterous kids on the other side of the door. The first thing Harry noticed about them was that they were big. Not fat like his cousin, Dudley, no. They were just bigger compared to Harry and some of the other kids’ small frames. It made sense considering they looked significantly older than Harry.

He saw Tom again at the end of the long table all the kids were sitting at, the chairs beside him empty despite the number of kids present.

Harry sighed (he seemed to be doing that a lot more lately). The scene reminded him too much of himself and the things Dudley did to him that made his life miserable. All the more reason to befriend him, Harry guessed. He wasn’t going to stop until Tom was willing to be his friend. 

With newfound purpose and confidence, he strode over to Tom’s end of the table and sat down, ignoring the hushed but not-so-subtle whispering from the other kids.


Harry thought the interaction between him and Tom went well. Looking back on it though, that statement didn’t age well at all. The first few minutes of the conversation which was just Harry trying to start said conversation.

He was now walking to St. John’s School for the Faithful, the school everyone in the orphanage was attending. He was walking beside Tom, behind all the other kids, but despite the small conversation they made at breakfast, the other boy wasn’t keen to continue talking and Harry left him alone.

He wasn’t that concerned by the lack of enthusiasm on Tom’s part. He had all the time in the world so to speak.

All he had to do was put in the effort. 


September 2, 1932

St. John’s School for the Faithful, London, England

“I’m Harry.” Harry stood in front of the classroom, with a nun behind him that gave him the shivers. The other kids were looking at him, trying to figure something out about him. It was making him uncomfortable.

The nun clicked her tongue before speaking to Harry. “Sit beside Riddle.” She ushered Harry to the back of the classroom, right where Tom was. He gave the other boy a small smile before turning back to the front of the class, unknowing of the smirks being shared by the other kids.


The rest of the day came and went uneventfully. Their schedule was repetitive. Class, then recess, then class again before school ended. 

The classes were another story. The unsurprising part of it was that they kept preaching and telling them about ‘The Word of God’ and the constant reminder of Hell and sinning. That wasn’t suspicious to Harry at all considering the nature of the school. The not-so-subtle looks at Tom though, the sneers, weren’t very impressive. It had quite the opposite effect. It made Harry more interested in him. 

What was it about Tom that made all the other kids hate him? That made Mrs. Cole hate him?

Life at the orphanage, on the other hand, was hell on earth compared to school. Before, the other kids were ignoring him. Considering what happened, he’d rather be ignored.


September 8, 1932

Wool’s Orphanage, London, England

Entering the courtyard in front of Wool’s, Harry was just minding his own business, thinking about random things like fantasy creatures he read during the free days he had during the Dursley’s. Questions were running through his head, like who invented them? It was interesting Harry enough to dull his own awareness of his surroundings. 

A stupid decision on his part.

Harry was pushed to the concrete of the courtyard. It was something his 5-year-old body was used to but it was annoying nonetheless. Now on the ground, he was faced with another boy older than him. He had dirty blond hair and a stupid face, like his cousin Dudley.

“Think you’re special, do you?” The boy spat. It was disgusting, the spit that reached Harry’s face when the boy spoke. “Special attention from Mrs. Cole makes you think that you can’t be touched?” Harry didn’t think that at all. 

Harry just thought it was mostly convenient. The attention made him look like an angel in the matron’s eyes but he knew that would go downhill when Tom started to actually talk to him.

It was a small price to pay and Harry wasn’t that all against paying it.

Harry smiled teasingly at the larger boy, mocking him. His emerald-green eyes were shining menacingly. “You sound jealous. Are you crying that you’re so ordinary and stupid that mummy doesn’t want to give you attention anymore?” Harry teased before he paused. “Oh wait.”

Billy Stubbs reddened and while the other boy and his cronies were standing in shock, Harry stood up and continued, “You’re resorting to attacking younger kids because you can’t handle your ego being hurt. Are you that insecure and scared?” With that, the angry and fevering expression on the boy in front of him grew. Harry smiled angelically and even more mockingly at the sight. “No wonder the matron doesn’t pay attention to you anymore.”

“Well-” The other boy tried to defend himself but Harry cut him off before he could even start talking.

“What was that? ‘Stay out of your way?’ I wouldn’t even want to see your ugly face every day, you’re doing me a favor.” Harry sneered mockingly for good measure before leaving.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when he made it inside. He didn’t know where his retorts came from but Harry wasn’t complaining, more curious than anything.


Brown eyes stared out the window of the orphanage, glistening with amusement and sadism as he smirked. This was going to be very interesting.


September 9, 1932

Wool’s Orphanage, London, England

The blond kid left Harry alone for the rest of the day and the day after. Good riddance, Harry thought as he stepped down to the back of the orphanage. The boy was so annoying and insecure that it was driving Harry crazy. Though anything that resembled his relatives made his head ache.

Sighing, he wandered the courtyard before entering the small alley behind the orphanage building. Harry had found the alley a few days ago, finding snakes and enjoying the solace of being with the reptiles. It was a small haven after being in the presence of the prying eyes the other kids gave him.

Speaker! ” Harry smiled at the small snake that curled around his wrist, softly petting the underside of his chin. The snake asked, “How are the filthy non-speakers treating the speaker? ” The other snakes beside Harry looked interested in what Harry had to say. They weren’t allowed to be seen in the open field of the yard so it wasn’t that surprising.

Harry sighed, amused, before answering. “Even if they don’t understand you, they shouldn’t be called filthy. Even if they don’t shower regularly, ” Harry added and the snakes hissed in laughter, or amusement, Harry didn’t particularly know. “They’re treating me alright. Some older kid tried to bully me but I handled it pretty well.

He then started telling the story, and when he mentioned he got pushed, the snake on his wrist (he called them Loki, after the Norse God) moved to sit on his head like a crown. When he finished the story, the other snakes started hissing to each other, talking about the boy Harry insulted being the same boy the other speaker talked about. This information made Harry pause.

There’s another one like me? ” The snakes hissed in affirmation at Harry’s question. Huh. “Who’s the speaker?

The snakes then excitedly, more so Loki, answered Harry like they had no shame whatsoever to disclose such information. When his oaf of a cousin caught him in the garden talking to a garden snake, he ran right into the house and told on him to Daddy. He quickly knew then, even before Vernon’s threats, that stuff like that wasn’t normal in the slightest. 

Why, out of all of the memories he had forgotten, had he remembered that?

The snakes quickly disclosed the information of the other speaker. Jet black hair, brown eyes, and quite silent. Had a cool, disinterested atmosphere around him without even trying.

Harry grinned. Well, then. He had a roommate to interrogate.


As Harry entered their shared room, Tom immediately talked, surprising Harry. Tom never starts the conversation! It was always Harry trying (and failing) to start it. 

It was convenient though, Harry needed to talk to him. Loki was very adamant about it.

“Word has it, you stood up to Billy Stubbs.” Tom was trying to be uninterested but Harry knew enough Tom was interested at what happened (Harry wasn’t even going to question how he was so sure of Tom’s reactions). Unfortunately, Tom was facing away from Harry so he couldn’t see the other boy’s reaction.

As Harry sat down on the bed, he asked Tom, “His name’s Billy?” Harry scrunched his face at the revelation. “I thought his name was something lame but fitting like Richard. Doesn’t matter either way, Billy fits him well enough for being a prat.” Harry pulled a grin when Tom quietly snorted at the joke, fully knowing the joke in the name. 


  “So, did you?” Tom pried, facing the shorter boy. Harry shrugged in answer, making Tom smirk. “Good. That prat needs his ego ruined. God knows he needs it.” Which was ironic in and of itself, Tom was the farthest thing from religious. Then again, he wouldn’t mind using the name as a swear word. He’d do anything to undermine the religion that oh-so ruined his life.

“He reminds me of my cousin. He was a whale like Billy, complete with the prat attitude and the fragile ego,” Tom stared amused at Harry’s displeasure at the mention of his cousin, no matter how little they talked. The perks of knowing no extended or immediate family and taking note of everything he heard.

“That bad?” Tom asked. Harry stared at him shrewdly instead of offering an answer. Tom only smirked in reply. Before any of them could continue the conversation, Mrs. Cole’s voice echoed throughout the building, calling them for dinner.


Throughout dinner, although happy that Tom was talking to him more, the only thing Harry could think about was what the snakes told him. Loki, though more subdued while resting on his head, was very adamant and excited about meeting both speakers at the same time. All Harry had to do was ask Tom questions that would lead up to him admitting he could talk to snakes too.

It was easier said than done.

He might blurt out that he can speak to snakes while questioning the other boy and ruin all the surprise which isn’t really a surprise at all; he was beyond scared of Tom’s reaction to that revelation.

Sitting on his bed, all ready for sleep to take over, Harry decided to ask Tom now. The saying, “better late than never,” went through his mind when he asked but ‘never’ should have been the better answer. The look on Tom’s face was both terrifying and hilarious.

What? ” his roommate asked, almost hissing. If Harry wasn’t almost going to piss his pants, then the sight would have been amusing to all hell. He was though, and he wanted to get it over with.

“I asked you a question,” Harry claimed, fully knowing that wasn’t what Tom’s outburst meant in the slightest. “Can you, or can you not, speak to snakes?” The snakes assured Harry that Tom knew of another speaker but Harry was relying on Tom to realize that Harry is the other speaker. With the fury in Tom that Harry was facing now, he highly doubted a rational thought was passing through Tom’s mind at that moment. 

The reaction wasn’t surprising. Realizing that someone else knows what you do, something that isn’t normal, very little rational thought should even be possible unless you’re very in tune with your emotions and mind. Why Harry knew that while also fretting for his life, he didn’t know. One thing Harry knew though was that neither Tom, nor Harry, were normal.

Harry wasn’t scared of Tom. Harry was scared of what Tom was capable of doing.

“Where did you get that from?” Tom’s tone was flat and void of any emotion but Harry could see the shining rage in the other boy’s eyes. Either Harry was going crazy or Tom’s eyes were going slightly red from the original chocolate brown he had.

Grabbing the courage he seemed to have lost halfway through the confrontation, Harry stood up, faced Tom eye-to-eye, and said, “The snakes told me.” Successfully (or, rather, unsuccessfully on Harry’s part) outing himself as the other speaker and making Tom speechless.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Harry. Why did you say that?

“You’re the one…” Tom trailed off, having lost the majority of his anger, but both boys heard the silent, “who could also talk to snakes,” rang through the silence of the bedroom.

“I am.”

“Then prove it.”


 

Two souls growing together with appreciation for each other. That’s the most beautiful kind of love.

-Juansen Dizon

Notes:

Harry: i can talk to snakes
Tom: I'm not falling for that trick
Tom:
Tom: prove it

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