Game On, Your Move

Chapter 17: Roulette

Time had the funny property of expanding and contracting against one's wishes. It had literally been everlasting during the loop and dragged on during the painful two weeks when Tom and Harry scarcely spoke. Now that a deadline loomed on the horizon, it sped by.

Harry delivered on his promise of sharing secret passageways, most of which Tom hadn't seen, despite months of poring over the castle's blueprints. The unassuming parchment that Harry called the Marauder's Map was a magical marvel and instilled much envy. The idea of recreating something similar for Horcruxes flitted through Tom's mind, but was swiftly dismissed. Every remaining second with Harry was precious. He would investigate magical cartography later.

His stomach clenched at the thought of later.

Spending time with Harry came with the downside of interacting with his friends, though the experience was less painful than expected. While Tom would never consider them to be of his caliber, he also no longer saw them as the ragtag group of losers randomly assembled by Harry. Over afternoon tea in the Hogwarts kitchen, Harry shared what they meant to him. Tom learned that Hagrid had been his first friend in the wizarding world and brought him the first birthday cake he could remember. That Longbottom's great-nephew was one of Harry's most trusted friends. That Prince's son had sworn to protect Harry at the cost of his own life. That a Hogwarts house-elf had taken a knife to the chest for him. That Warren had been Voldemort's first murder.

There was so much Tom didn't know about Harry's other life, Harry's real life, and he soaked up those snippets, wishing he'd asked more questions during the loop.

Nevertheless, while Tom survived attending Quidditch scrimmages and Gobstones team meetings, he was absolutely certain that coming to Hagrid's knitting circle was a terrible mistake. There was so much yarn and giggling and gawking. At least Hagrid didn't force him to actually knit, because his public image would never recover.

Instead, Tom was forced to watch Harry clumsily knit a scarf, knit being a generous word choice to capture what he was actually doing: clacking two knitting needles together. Eventually, he set down his stack of O.W.L. study notes, unable to silently witness the yarn massacre any longer.

"Is that really a scarf?" he said skeptically.

"Yes." Harry squinted as he lifted his handiwork to the light. "I was hoping I'd be able to finish before term is over, but progress is slower than expected. I don't understand why I have all these holes."

As he spoke, he dropped yet another stitch.

"Good grief, give me that," Tom snapped, snatching Harry's sorry-looking scarf. "If you keep tugging at the yarn, the whole thing will unravel. You need to scoop the needle from the back, like this, and tug it out. And then, if you bring it through the loop here, you can salvage the row. See?"

He shook the repaired scarf, accidentally catching the attention of others.

"Yer talented at this!" Hagrid said, while a few Hufflepuffs gazed at Tom with something akin to hero worship. "Yeh sure yeh don' wan' ter make anythin'?

"No, thank you," Tom said pleasantly, and shot daggers at Harry as soon as Hagrid looked away. "Do not comment."

Harry blinked innocently. "I wasn't going to."

"You were! You were probably going to suggest that I co-run the knitting circle with Hagrid."

"You're so suspicious," Harry said as he reprised his version of knitting. "I was going to say that if your Dark Lord career doesn't work out, you have a backup career as a scarf fixer."

Tom snorted and gave Harry an enormous eye-roll to show him exactly what he thought of his suggestion. Ridiculous.

Unfazed, Harry stuck his tongue out in childish revenge, but his fond expression was genuine.