the gift of fear (tomarry) (harry x death)

i think there's something wrong with a friend of mine

The very next day, Tom is taken, led out of his room and down the stairs and into the living room. Harry calls, gently, for the elves to gather around -- and they do, immediately, like his word is one, if not all of, the Ten Commandments.

Tom is no stranger to this ritual. He's seen it before, from the top of the stairs, the sanctuary he no longer belongs to and will not nor ever be returning to. It happens with every elf that is taken home -- Tom thinks it's just as Harry said. Tom is special in some regard, but every resident of this house has gone through exactly what he is right now.

"His name is Tom Riddle," says Harry, smiling fondly at each of the elves in turn -- smiling in a way that must be fake; Tom's not sure Harry can love. He is, however, sure that if Harry can, it's like God's love; the exact kid Tom doesn' want. "And he is your new housemate. He may look a little different than the rest of you, but let that be no reason to think any less of him. I expect complete respect out of all of you."

His voice softens when he adds, "He came from a very rough place, and is very important to me," and then he turns on Tom with eyes so adoring you can nearly overlook all of his sinister undertone.

Tom knows deception when he sees it. This scenario, again, he remembers well; it is not new. Every elf is very important to Harry. Every elf came from a very rough place.

A little one raises her hand. "Yes, Tonks?" Harry says, tone so sweet Tom could vomit.

"Is his name real or chosen?"

Harry's face tightens up. "You know that's a rude thing to ask, Tonks."

"I was just wondering, 'cause, like--"

She is silenced by a raise of his hand. "That's enough now," he says, gently.

Names are a matter of power in this house. When you are introduced to the rest of the group -- officially inciting the period in which they are, generally, allowed to interact with you -- you may be, beforehand, given the possibility of a new name. Tom doesn't know why some of them are given new names and some are not.

The name Harry offers to him is 'Voldemort.' It is politely declined.

Something about it is off-putting. Like alcohol in God's kingdom, he thinks it foolish to indulge himself. The rage of a king is like the roar of a lion. He has never liked his name before -- too plain, too boring, too unremarkable for a person so significant -- but maybe it's time to start.

The rest of the introduction passes without incident. Tom has the words He is very different from all of you playing in his head on repeat, something of another trap laid at his feet. Two boys side eye him all breakfast.

Tom begins to miss the stairwell.

Tom listens to the rain and wonders if God is like Harry, viciously righteous to the highest regard. He wonders if he is once again flooding the world. Tom tries not to think of it as a relief if he did.

He is approached by a young, sour looking elf one evening when sitting on the porch, watching the weather.

"Tom," he greets, with all the formality of someone who has had it beaten into them. Harry removed him from his family but the damage was already done. He arrived too late. Tom wonders for who else the same is true.

"Good evening," he says, polite, too, because he thinks of Harry says I expect complete respect out of all of you and some part of him shivers.

Kreacher, Tom remembers the name now, the elf's name is Kreacher, what an odd choice, straightens his back awkwardly. "I'm supposed to come get you for supper."