Chapter Text
It’s a genius plan, really. Harry owes Hermione for this one.
It’s foolproof. The three of them disguise as Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini, and get Riddle to tell them that he’s the Heir of Slytherin.
Absolutely foolproof.
Harry glances at Ron and Hermione, each of them holding their own Polyjuice. They look as nervous as Harry feels.
“Ready?” he asks, and Hermione nods, pale-faced. Ron gulps, but raises his glass and tries to smile.
“Cheers.” he says shakily, and they each bring their glasses to their lips.
Harry chugs as much as he can without gagging, then drops the glass in shock. Hermione chokes, and rushes into a nearby stall, Ron close behind. Harry leans over the sink, trying to keep the sludgy liquid down. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he stares at the reflection in bewilderment; his skin seems to be bubbling. Tiny bumps underneath the surface of his flesh begin to change in tone and texture, transforming his usual copper complexion to a startlingly pale shade. His eyes go from their vibrant green to a steely grey, and his hair turns a vivid white. All throughout this, a tingly, burning sensation erupts under his skin and fizzles from his head to his toes.
Suddenly, he’s looking at the reflection of Draco Malfoy.
Harry inspects his new face, poking his pale cheeks and pointy chin. A stall bursts open behind him, and he whirls around to see a sick-looking Blaise Zabini staggering out, still clutching the glass.
“Bloody hell,” Not-Zabini says, running a hand over his face. He turns to Harry, wide-eyed. “This is well weird.”
“Tell me about it.” Harry says, just as the other stall opens and Pansy Parkinson walks out. Hermione has already changed into some Slytherin robes, and she looks at the two boys expectantly, managing to look only slightly ill.
“You best change. You can’t expect to go parading into the Slytherin common room in Gryffindor robes.”
Ron-Zabini rolls his eyes, and picks up the robes near the door before going into a stall again, Harry doing the same.
Five minutes later, the three of them leave Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom with a mission: locate the Slytherin common room.
“Why didn’t we think of this before?” Harry mutters quietly, scanning the dungeon walls through narrowed eyes, searching for any hidden entrances.
“We should’ve asked someone.” Ron groans, and Hermione swats both of their arms.
“There’s no use complaining now. We’ll just have to search harder.” She says delicately, just as they hear a voice behind him.
“What're you three doing out here? You should be in your common rooms.”
They all turn around quickly, and Ron’s mouth drops open at the sight of Percy Weasley at the end of the dungeon corridor. Harry elbows him subtly, and Ron snaps his mouth shut.
Hermione fumbles for a moment, staying silent. Harry, realising that he looks like Malfoy, tries to sneer at Percy.
“We should be asking you that, Weasley. This is Slytherin territory.” He says snootily, putting on what he hopes is a Malfoy-worthy glare.
Percy glares right back, puffing out his chest to show his shiny Prefect badge.
“I happen to be a school Prefect.” Percy says haughtily, and starts walking towards them. “Now, I suggest that-”
“Parkinson, Zabini, Malfoy! Where have you all been?” A different voice calls, and Harry recognises it immediately. He lets out a subtle breath of relief as Tom Riddle walks up to them, his face calm and his footsteps measured. They won’t have to wander the halls hopelessly anymore. Percy narrows his eyes even further, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at him. “Problem, Weasley?” he asks innocently.
Harry can see Percy’s jaw clench as he grits his teeth.
“Not at all, Riddle. Just advising your… friends to get to their common room.” Percy grinds out, and Riddle smiles pleasantly.
“I’ll make sure they get there.” he says sincerely, and turns on his heel to walk down the dank dungeon hall. He doesn’t tell Harry, Hermione or Ron to follow him, but they do anyway. Riddle doesn’t say anything, so neither do they. Their footsteps echo off of the empty walls, the four of them taking complex twists and turns into the darkness of the dungeons. Harry can feel his skin crawling from the pressing shadows against his back, and hopes that the Slytherin common room is at least a bit warmer.
Finally, after what feels like hours of walking, Riddle stops beside a wall, which looks pretty much like all the others - stony and dark - apart from a small snake engraved in one of the stones.
“Pureblood.” Riddle says smoothly, and the snake turns into a door handle. Harry sees Hermione-Parkinson scrunch her nose a bit out of the corner of his eye, and notices Ron move closer to her in comfort. Harry just focuses on the newly-formed door, and the fact that Riddle is holding it open for them. He walks through, Hermione and Ron following him.
He barely pays attention to his surroundings, but does note that it is considerably warmer in here than in the hallways, and that the room has a slight green tinge from the river outside the windows.
Riddle leads them over to a secluded part of the room, clearly claimed by him and the real trio before him. He gestures for them to sit, and they do, backs ramrod straight and stiff. Riddle settles into his own chair. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and neither do they. Riddle just stares at them for a while, his eyes scrutinising their every movement. Harry fidgets in his spot, but then remembers that Malfoy would never show his nervousness, and instead sits up straighter, lifting his chin higher. Riddle’s eyes follow the movement, then he sighs.
Finally, he speaks.
“So? Where have you all been?” he asks placidly, eyeing them with an expression of boredom. Harry glances at Ron and Hermione out of the corner of his eye, only to find them both to be silent. It’s up to him, then. He clears his throat, and Riddle looks at him.
“We had some business with Dumbledore. He was asking about anyone suspicious in Slytherin who could have opened the Chamber…” he trails off as Riddle’s expression remains blank.
“And what did you tell him?” he asks neutrally, his eyes seeming to burn holes into Harry’s head. He refuses to look away, however, and meets his gaze evenly.
“I told him that I doubt anyone in Slytherin would do it - and that I suspect someone from another house.” he tacks the last part on as a second thought, and sees Hermione’s gaze flash to him out of the corner of his eye. Still, he holds Riddle’s eyes.
Riddle hums, nodding slowly.
“Suspicious fool. Of course he thinks it’s someone in Slytherin. Though, I suppose it’d make sense… he probably thinks it’s me. Prejudiced old fool really is the worst thing that’s ever happened to Hogwarts.” he says idly, his eyes finally leaving Harry’s face and instead inspecting his perfect nails.
Harry sees red. His fists clench, and he can’t help his glare.
“You’re wrong!” he says ferociously, and sees Hermione duck her head, and Ron’s eyes widen in panic.
Riddle’s dark brown eyes flick back over to him, and he raises an incredibly even eyebrow.
“Oh? You think there’s someone here who’s worse than Dumbledore?” he asks, and Harry stays quiet, thinking fast. “Well? Do you?”
Ron shakes his head frantically, and Hermione does the same. Harry, however, has a brilliant idea.
“Harry Potter?” he suggests hopefully. Ron nods viciously.
Riddle stares at him, and Harry gulps. Riddle says nothing for a long time, and Harry can feel sweat on the back of his neck.
“What… did you say?” Riddle asks softly, his voice barely a whisper. Hermione’s eyes dart fearfully between the two, and Ron’s hand twitches towards his battered wand.
“Harry Potter is worse than Dumbledore…?” Harry says, though it sounds more like a question as his voice wavers. Riddle’s stare turns nasty, and he points his wand at Harry threateningly.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Malfoy?” he snarls, and Hermione squeaks in the background. “Harry Potter is my everything! He’ll be mine someday, I swear it.”
Wait. What?
Harry stares blankly at Riddle, ignoring the wand in his face.
“WHAT?!” He hears Ron blurt out, and then his yelp as Hermione elbows him - quite harshly, by the sounds of it.
Riddle glances at Ron, confused, and his eyes widen. Harry looks at him, too, and sees that Zabini’s hair is gradually turning bright orange. Riddle’s mouth drops open, and he looks from Ron, to Hermione - whose front teeth are slowly moving apart and growing longer, back into themselves - and back to Harry.
Specifically, Harry’s forehead.
Even more specifically, right in the place that Harry’s scar should be. Harry’s hand flies up to it, and there it is - the bumpy texture of his scar is there again.
For a moment, everything is quiet.
Then…
“What the fuck?! ”
The four of them turn their heads, to see Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini all standing in the middle of the common room, looking pissed.
Riddle looks from a now normal Ron, Hermione, and Harry, back to the three Slytherins. For once, his expression is completely confused and uncontrolled. Harry, trying to make light of the situation, grins.
“Alright, Riddle?”
No response. Just a blank expression. Harry glances at Ron and Hermione, who are starting to stand. He does the same, leaving the actual Slytherins standing alone in their little corner. The trio make their way over to the common room entrance, and Harry lets Hermione and Ron leave before him. He turns back to Riddle, who is staring at him with a - is that a blush?
“You look nice with a blush.” he blurts out, then claps his hand to his mouth as Riddle blushes even darker. “Uh- Sorry. Bye.” he says lamely, waving a little, before rushing out of the room.
The trio walk back to Myrtle’s bathroom in shocked silence, each of them trying to process what just happened. When they finally arrive and change back into their normal robes, Ron is the first to speak.
“What the bloody hell was that?”