Disclaimer: I thought we had established this already? Oh well, none of the characters belong to me... Are you happy now?

Author's Note: Hallo! Here's the next chapter for you (you wouldn't have guessed, would you?) and also a bit of long-long-long-awaited revenge. I'm sorry I haven't answered your reviews, yet, maybe I'll do it later, but I don't feel like writing anything in English right now, so don't be angry if I don't reply until tomorrow...

A big thank you to Leianora for betaing this for me!

57. BACK TO SCHOOL

"I am glad to see you again, Mr. Potter," Headmistress McGonagall sent him a tight little smile, "And you also brought back two of my teachers. I must admit the substitute professors were a bit overcharged. Potion's Mistress Sterling couldn't believe that someone could be not as fascinated by bubbling cauldrons as she undoubtedly is and four exploded potions, two full-restorations of the potion's class-room and the adjoining corridor and six students in the infirmary later she took her leave. Poppy will surely be pleased to have you back, Severus."

Severus grumbled something before he left McGonagall's office.

"The Defence teacher was very popular, though I think that could have to do with the students only seldom frequenting his class," the stern witch continued, "I don't think his redundancy will change his daily routine too drastically."

"Seems I missed a lot," Harry stated cheerfully, not letting go of Tom's hand.

"I'm sure you had to make your own experiences," the witch answered, "Your comrades from Gryffindor would be very pleased if you chose to stay in the tower again, though they are very understanding if you don't want to yet. In this case Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini offered to share their room with you. I'm afraid since you're no longer married it would be inappropriate for you to stay with Professor Riddle."

"That's okay," Harry muttered, "but I'd rather stay with Blaise and Draco."

"Your things will be brought down to the dungeons," McGonagall nodded, standing up, "If you have any questions or need help with something, you know where my office is. And now we should perhaps go down for dinner."

"Do they know...?" Harry shifted uncomfortably and Tom squeezed his hand lightly.

"I'm afraid news travel fast, especially in a school like Hogwarts," the Headmistress replied compassionately, "However, I think this will give you more space, Mr. Potter, since no-one will pester you about what exactly happened."

/She's quite naive, isn't she?/ Tom whispered in Harry's ear, who only rolled his eyes before dragging him out of the room.

It was one week after the Christmas vacation had ended, of course, everyone would know about what they did to him, after all there had been countless articles more or less accurate, but somehow his rape was always the central focus. At least that was what Tom and the others had told him.

/Don't worry so much,/ Tom gently pulled him close as they passed a corridor with a lot of doors/You'll get wrinkles./

/They won't hate me, right?/ Harry looked up at him with big, pleading green eyes.

/No-one that matters will hate you and the others I will take care of,/ he gulped as Harry stared at him accusingly/...or maybe I won't./

/No, you most definitely won't,/ Harry hissed back before once again smiling at him/But thanks anyway./

They entered the Great Hall through the teacher's entrance and the assembled students immediately lapsed into silence as they caught sight of the Golden Boy entering after the new Headmistress and the returned Defence Professor.

"Yes, Mr. Potter chose to return, now continue eating," she snapped, resulting in the students trying to stare more inconspicuously and shovel the food into their mouths, "Take a seat, Mr. Potter."

/You will be fine, precious,/ Tom gently kissed his forehead/Draco and Blaise are waiting for you./

Harry nodded and determinedly walked to the Slytherin table, not looking left nor right, and slipped into the seat they had kept for him.

"We're glad you're back, Harry," Pansy greeted him, "It was pretty boring without you."

"I heard something else," Harry laughed and started on his rice, "I heard you had an awful lot of free time."

"The teacher was a joke," Ted answered, "A bit like Lockheart, only that he not even pretended to know anything about Defence."

"So, you'll stay with us, Harry?" Blaise asked and Harry nodded: "If I'm allowed to..."

"Of course," Draco smiled at him, "We will even help you sneak out if you want to meet a certain someone..."

"Tom is the heir of Slytherin, he can easily visit me," Harry shrugged, "He said he would."

"Of course I will," Tom's dark voice said from behind them, "but right now I need to clean up my classroom. I heard it has been infested by so-called works of arts. Will you be okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You know how to find me," Tom kissed him lovingly, "You two take care of him, understood?"

"We are intending to," Blaise agreed, pulling himself up to his full height as if to say that no-one would get past him.

Tom nodded, satisfied, before leaving the Great Hall for his classroom, where he found it decorated with what seemed like hundreds of pictures, all showing hearts or flowers or something that with a lot of imagination could be interpreted as teddy-bears. All in all very unbecoming of a Dark Lord and even though he had lost his status as a showpiece-Dark Lord he still had standards that clearly spoke against such decoration anywhere near him.

"Draco," Harry urgently tugged the blond's sleeve so that he would lean down a little, "Can you send them ahead, please, I don't like to be so crowded, please?"

They had stood up as a whole from the Slytherin table, all the Sixth years, and Harry was sure that some off the prefects and the head boy had also wanted to join them, but had held back and now followed them from a distance. It was really unnerving Harry, since he didn't know them too well and Pansy was walking to close for his liking.

"Sure," Draco straightened again, "Leave us alone, guys, Blaise and I will take care of Harry. You can make sure the way is safe."

Immediately the other students scattered and Harry was mildly impressed with how much control Draco held over them or perhaps how disciplined the Slytherins were. Such a behaviour was unthinkable in Gryffindor and the only way to get someone to leave you alone was to threaten them or to lock yourself in your room.

"Better?"

"Yes, thanks, Draco," the black-haired boy smiled gratefully up at him, "there were just too many people."

"So, tell us what did you do during the holidays?" Blaise asked curiously as they slowly followed the others.

Harry beamed up at them: "Snuffles and Remus got married, only at the registry office because they want to wait till Remus has settled into his new job and because they didn't want to overcharge me, but they adopted me!" he laughed happily, bouncing a little at the next few steps, "They're legally my guardians, now!"

"That sounds great," Blaise pulled him into a one-armed hug, "And how are things with everyone's favourite Dark Lord, anymore blunders?"

"No, surprisingly enough not," Harry chuckled in amusement, "He took me out a couple of times. Well, twice, because I panicked the second time and afterwards Snuffles wouldn't allow me to go out anymore, but he was really nice and he cooked for me and brought me flowers and chocolate... I feel really girly," Draco laughed at this and ruffled his hair: "But you are our favourite girl, Harriet."

"You," Harry shook his fist at him, "I'm barely back two hours and you're already teasing me again."

"Well, I have to make up for all the really witty comments I came up during your absence," Draco stated haughtily, "At least once a day, I would think to myself: If Harry was here now I could have said this or that. I considered writing it down, but then again my brain is a never-ending source of such truly fabulous ideas that I decided against it..."

"Can you imagine how much I suffered, Harry?" Blaise complained and Harry nodded compassionately.

"Hey," Draco shouted indignantly, "you should be honoured that I even allow you in my presence."

They had reached the Slytherin common room and Blaise whispered the password, making the door slide open, revealing a pleasantly empty common room, since the others had obviously decided to give Harry some space: "Welcome to Slytherin, Harry, let me show you around."

"I was here before, Blaise," Harry burst his bubble, "I know my way around. And right now I'm too tired to pretend I don't."

"Well then, off to bed with you," Draco decided to stop his sulking and gently pushed Harry towards their room, "And don't even think about putting Silencing Spells around your bed."

Harry grumbled displeasedly, but gathered his new pyjama, courtesy of Narcissa, and his tooth brush and trudged over to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

"Do you think he will be absolutely okay again?" Blaise asked as the two Slytherins also changed into their pyjamas.

"I doubt he ever really was" Draco muttered after a while, "but I think Tom is good for him, maybe he can mend him."

"Dark Lords are not said to be the best at mending things," Blaise replied, "He hurt him far worse than any of us ever did."

"He just will have to learn to fix Harry," Draco stated coldly, "because otherwise... I will have to serve detention," Harry had re-entered the room, looking a bit strangely at them, but not commenting as he slipped into his huge four-poster bed with Slytherin green hangings and soft silver pillows: "Good night, you two."

"Good night, Harry," Blaise replied, "Sleep tight."

"Good night, Harriet."

"Shut up, Draco," Harry mumbled sleepily, snuggling into the warm covers, warding off the chill of the dungeons.

Headmistress McGonagall held a tight reign over the school and its occupants, students as well as teachers. No-one could complain about being treated unfairly, no-one could call someone her teacher's pet and no-one could contend to be punished undeservedly- of course they all did, but all in all the Transfiguration professor was a good Headmistress and most everyone agreed on that view. Harry thought it was kind of funny that Tom listened to her rules at least visibly more than he ever had to Dumbledore, though she was not nearly as magically powerful as the Dark Lord. Sure they argued, but mostly they stayed civil and once Tom had agreed to something he at least made sure not to be busted while breaking the new rule.

She restricted Harry's visits to his quarters to the weekend and totally forbid him to stay the night, she only gave Harry five minutes at each meal that he could sit at the teacher's table, she made Harry stay on school grounds unless it was a Hogsmead weekend and though she couldn't forbid Tom to visit Harry in the Slytherin dungeons without the agreement of Severus, who curiously enough seemed to become deaf when ever she mentioned that subject, she only granted him access to the common room and not to the dormitories and that only in the afternoon until curfew.

So now, due to the new rules, Tom always waited in front of the common room in the morning, sometimes joined by Severus or the Lestrange brothers. Today, it was only Tom though and he was unimaginably bored and passed his time by cursing the new rules, debating whether he should risk to go inside, but then deciding against it when he felt the tingle of wards around the entrance, undoubtedly courtesy of the new Headmistress.

"Tom," Harry happily jumped into his arms, shyly pressing a kiss to his lips, "have you been waiting long?"

"Longer than usual, what were you doing?" Tom drawled, slowly putting Harry back on his feet and slipping one arm around the slim waist.

"I couldn't find my Defence homework," Harry shrugged embarrassedly, "I still haven't found it, I guess you have to give me detention..."

"As much as I like that idea, I took it with me when I left yesterday," Tom smiled, "It seems you were already too tired to hear me."

"Oops," Harry chuckled nervously, "Sorry."

Tom only laughed and pulled Harry a little closer, shifting Harry's book bag that hang between them to his own shoulder, ignoring Harry's weak protests that he could carry his things himself, which caused Harry to pout and lapse into an accusing silence.

"Why won't you allow me to take care of you, sweetie?" he asked when Harry still wouldn't speak to him as they reached the Great Hall.

"I don't want to be dependent of you," the green-eyed boy replied.

"You're not dependent, precious," Tom kissed him very gently, "I know very well that you can carry your own book bag and that you don't need me to walk you here, but I thought you liked my attention. I thought you liked it that I'm taking care of you."

"Of course, I like it, but I don't like that I need it," Harry pleaded with him to understand, "I can't walk past closed doors without panicking, I can't help but freak out whenever I see Ron, I'm so scared whenever I'm alone. At least let me do the things I can do, let me do things on my own, please."

"I didn't know it meant so much to you, little one," he handed the book bag back, receiving a grateful smile, "I thought that you merely tried to not burden me or something. And you're no burden at all, Harry, I like to do things for you."

"I know," Harry answered honestly, "but right now I need to help myself."

"Okay," he kissed Harry once again, wrapped his own hand around Harry's much smaller one and entered the Great Hall, leading them up to the teacher's table, letting Harry greet everyone, before slipping in his lap, like he did every morning with his back towards the students, seeking out Tom's comfort and the positive feelings he received from him.

The flapping of thousands of wings interrupted Harry's almost meditative state and made him crane his neck, though he didn't really expect anyone to write. Well, maybe Snuffles and Remus or perhaps Neville, but the barn owl that landed in front of him, or rather on the table behind him, was not one he recognised and had the tired and slightly stressed look of a Ministry owl. Her feathers were slightly ruffled, most likely from the storm that raged outside.

"Who is it from?," Tom asked worriedly when he saw all the colour drain from Harry's face.

"My aunt," Harry's hands shook even more than his voice as he unfolded the letter, written in his aunt's edged handwriting.

You ungrateful little bitch, we don't care if you are adopted or killed or near death, we don't care. You were a nuisance left by your egoistic parents, who of course couldn't be bothered to bring up their spawn. You contaminate everyone around you with your disease and your abnormalities. You don't deserve to live. We were always good to you, we gave you what you deserved, but it just was no use with you. Your a freak, a worthless little freak, you don't deserve to breathe the same air as such hard-working and honest and normal people like us.

You bring ill luck, we never wish to see you again or to hear from you, you have done enough to us. Vernon lost thousands of jobs because of you, we would be so rich by now if it wasn't for your abnormal presence and the whole house still reeks of your disgusting stench.

I knew what he was doing, slut, I encouraged him and I so enjoyed to see you limp around the next day, I should have listened to him and given you to a whorehouse, since that's obviously where you belong and where you will end up anyway. You just wait. Do you really think, anyone can bear your presence? Not even your lot could do that. You're vile and disgusting, even more so than my damned sister.

She thought she was oh-so-noble and sweet telling us stories about her new fabulous life. The arrogant bitch. And then how she showed of her great, rich, good-looking husband as if she deserved to be treated like royalty. She was just as spoilt as you are, she never gave a damn about the rest of her family. I'm glad she's dead, may she rot in hell.

You can greet her, once you finally relieved this world of yourself, but until then I hope you have a shit life in the scum you crawled out of and don't ever think about coming back.

The Dursley family

Tom only felt the small body slip under the table before a muffled, but nonetheless heart-wrenching sob, broke the chatter all around him and such a huge wave of sadness and despair hit him in the chest that he would have stumbled back, if he hadn't been seated, and everyone around him also stopped whatever they were doing, not being able to explain were it came from. The small innocent looking paper wafted to the floor.

/Harry, love, talk to me,/ he also crouched down under the table, taking the unresisting pile of crying Harry into his arms/What did she write? Please talk to me./

But Harry obviously couldn't answer, wave after wave of emotional pain pouring out of his soul, settling into everyone in the Great Hall. Several students had started to cry and their friends were too confused themselves to comfort them, soon breaking into tears as well. Hagrid was the first of the teachers who gave in, followed by the diminutive Charms teacher and Professor Sprout. Tom himself was fighting tears and as he looked over his shoulder he could see Severus' hand clenching around the armrest. He carefully reached for the letter not relinquishing his hold on Harry, on the contrary even pulling him closer.

/This is not true, Harry,/ he gently lifted the trembling boy, settling his legs comfortably around his own waist and putting the thin arms around his neck, momentarily relieved when Harry tightened his hold/She has no idea who you are or how much she owes you. You don't deserve to die or to having been forced to live with them. She's jealous because you and your mother are so high above her. She was the bravest woman I ever met and she loved you dearly, just as did your father. And they were right to love you. I can't imagine a day without you, without your smile and your lovely voice. Don't believe a word she said, Harry, you are loved. I love you, Harry, and I will for the rest of my life. Don't you think I know you better than she does? Don't you think Snuffles knows you better. She locked you in a cupboard and only talked to you to insult or degrade you, she is the one that doesn't deserve to live. I can show you more than ten people who care about you straightaway/, the onflood of emotions had stopped, but Tom was sure that Harry had only pulled them back into himself, so as not to hurt anyone, but that at least meant that he had regained some control/Kitten, don't let her ruin your life. It's your life now, you don't have to listen to her or your uncle anymore. You're an amazing person, Harry. Don't let anyone tell you differently. Please, Harry, say something./

/Why does she hate me so much?/ Harry eyes were darker than usual, the usual vibrant colour having changed to a duller green/Why do they hate me?/

/Because people fear what they don't understand, everything that is foreign to them,/ Tom cautiously sat back down in his chair, cradling Harry's wet face between his hands/And as they never bothered to get to know you and therefore missed the beautiful soul we had the fortune to meet, they instead tried to mask their fear with hatred./

/I don't want them to hate me, Tom,/ Harry pleaded and Tom tenderly wiped away the tears/They're not important, Harry. You are. And now you have a new and much better family. Aren't we better than them?/

"Of course, you are," Harry whispered and smiled sadly, "You are much better."

"I don't think he needs anyone to boost his ego, Harry," Severus spoke up from beside him and Harry chuckled a little, "But I'm sure I agree with what Tom undoubtedly said to you. Evans was not arrogant and neither are you and you didn't deserve anything they threw at you, Harry."

"Yes, that about sums up, what I said," Tom dropped Harry into the Potion's Master's lap, "And now, if you will excuse me, I have to kill two people."

"No," Harry exclaimed in panic, "you can't kill them."

"They have hurt you for the last time, Harry," Tom tried to free his arm from Harry's tight grasp, "I said I would kill them if they hurt you again and I totally intend to make good of that promise."

"They didn't hurt me, I'm fine really, please, Tom," Harry attempted to drag him back down.

"Really, Harry? Say it again and I will accept your answer," Tom let all the hurt he felt shine through his eyes and he could see Harry shiver as he received that emotion, "but you should really consider it, Harry. Are they worth it that you start lying again? Do you really want this life again? I thought you trusted me..."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably: "They did hurt me, they hurt me badly," he finally whispered and Tom pulled him into a hug, "And I trust you, Tom, but... I don't want to lose you, I don't want you to go to Azkaban, I don't want you to be a murderer..."

"I am a Dark Lord, Harry, I always will be. I already am a murderer and I can't change that. Let me kill someone who really deserves it for a change," Tom murmured, "I won't let them get away with this."

"And what am I supposed to do without you?," Harry whimpered, shrinking into himself, "I read the new contract, do you expect me to visit you in Azkaban?"

"No, Harry, I'm sorry," the red-eyed man relented, "I won't get caught and I won't leave you- there will be no evidence."

"Do you think they need evidence, Tom?" Harry hissed, "They didn't need evidence to ship off Snuffles or Rabastan or Rodolphus or Serafin. They certainly don't need it to convict you..."

"I won't let them get away with this, they deserve to die and they deserve to at least feel a part of the pain they inflicted on you," Tom insisted, "I will do anything for you, but, please, don't make me break this promise."

"You also promised not to kill anyone," the teary-eyed boy pleaded, "I'd rather you kept that promise."

"Okay, Harry, compromise," he tenderly pulled the smaller wizard closer, "I won't kill them, I will inform the Ministry and see to it that they are convicted for their crimes."

"They will be so afraid, Tom," Harry whispered, "Can't you inform the Muggle authorities? They are Muggles, Tom, they don't understand our world."

"That's only because they never bothered to learn about our world, I have no sympathy for them," Tom didn't cave in to Harry, not this time, "They have hurt a magical child, they knew with whom they were messing with, it's perfectly legal to convict them in our world. That's my final word, Harry, either you accept the compromise or I kill them my way."

"Please, don't kill them," the green-eyed boy whispered and Tom nodded before once again pushing Harry into Severus lap, who closed his long, thin arms around the small Animagus, and then left the Great Hall.

"I'm taking the day off," Severus declared, also standing up, the light body safely in his arms, "and I guess by now it's obvious that the Tom won't be teaching today, either," McGonagall nodded, one of her thin hands pressed to her bosom, still in shock over the raw emotion that had pushed into her heart minutes ago, "Come on, Harry, you can stay in my rooms. I really don't know what he's thinking, leaving you in such a state..."

Tom meanwhile was indeed thinking or at least talking, which normally requires thinking, because he was describing in detail what he would like to do to the two Muggles standing in front of him. Yes, the old saying was rather true, that words sometimes hurt more than the Cruciatus. He had practically flown past the Apparation wards, before apparating to the Grunnings complex, overcoming his disgust and apparating both himself and the fat Muggle back to Privet Drive, number 4, where the horse-like Muggle woman was busy doing a show of watering the flowers while in reality spying on Mrs. Number 6, and shove them both into the kitchen, warding the room against prying eyes and keen ears.

The two Muggles had at first spluttered incoherently, babbling some nonsense like that they didn't know a Harry Potter, that this was trespassing, that they would tell the police, but when he told them his name, it quite efficiently shut them up. Despite their vehement denial that Harry hadn't saved them all, they knew pretty much who he was and of what he was capable and they were very helpful if he had still wanted to kill Harry. Finally he shut them up after they had practically confessed everything they did to Harry and then the fun part (at least for him) began.

He wasn't a Dark Lord for nothing and since he had found out about the abuse Harry had had to suffer and in the many weeks they had spent with Harry's godfather and his wolf, he had come up with many ideas to make their last minutes, hours, seem like an eternity in hell. And it wasn't like he hadn't had any help because Lupin and Black sure as hell were quite inventive like that and though neither Rudolphus nor Rabastan were much into all that torturing people thing they offered a few suggestions themselves and Severus, as it turned out, was not only a Master in Potions but also in mind play and came up with ideas far more vicious than any of the others.

And now he happily relayed the knowledge he had gained in those hours to the two monsters in front of him, letting their whimpers encourage him to come up with even more ways to kill them. He had promised not to finish them off, yes, and he wasn't even using his wand to make them wet their clothes with sweat and urine and he had to admit, at least to himself, that justice was as sweet as revenge could be. It was rather considerate of him that he wanted to prepare them for their fates, wasn't it? No-one in the Wizarding World would take kindly to the abuse of their Saviour, no-one.

Three glasses of water, eight hysterical outbursts and several cleaning spells later he decided that it got rather boring after a while and so he notified the Ministry. Tom considered shortly to handcuff them, but then a really fabulous idea came to his mind and with a swish of his wand, a few murmured words on his part and frightened squeaks and whimpers on their part he levitated them out of the kitchen, carefully banging them against both the door frame and the pristine walls, tinting them an unpleasant shade of yellow, and out in the hallway.

Vernon's whimpers (or grunts) grew louder as he caught sight of the prison they had created for their nephew and Tom smirked pleasedly before opening the small door by hand, in doing so bringing Petunia in eyeshot of the cupboard and causing her to start a pathetic attempt to plea her way out of the grave she had dug herself.

The Dark Lord's grin widened (he couldn't remember ever having enjoyed torturing someone so much- and without his wand no less!) and with a bit of pushing and squeezing he finally fitted the two Muggles in there, though he had the nice thought that breathing could be a bit complicated for them. He locked the cupboard and wrote a flashy note on the door for the Ministry, saying that the culprits could be found in there and then went back to the kitchen, fixed himself a coffee and sipped it while storing his memories of their confession in his pensieve.

In the end it was well past six, when he unhurriedly stood up, protected his pensieve with a strong, but uncomplicated spell and pinned a second note, explaining the contents of the memories, before apparating back to Hogsmead, fully satisfied with this turn of events.

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