The right path

Twenty seven

Two days, three hours, and fifty two minutes. That's how long the boys had been in the muggle world. James was counting every second with baited breath. He knew that death would not befall on Harry or Tom during their stay, as it was part of Death's bargain, but he could not help but flinch every time a bomb crashed near the underground refuge the boys were staying at. Of course, the fact that Harry was silently panicking every time it happened only fueled his own anxiety.

As for Harry, he was trying his very best to remain stoic. He could not be mistaken for the weakest link, that would certainly be embarrassing. For now, the other orphans avoided him like the plague, probably because they were absolutely terrified of Tom, and in association, of him. But, those very same orphans seemed unaffected by the intense bombings, and Harry could not for the life of him imagine what Riddle must have done to them to make them that afraid of him. What could possibly be worse than this? Not knowing if you would make it alive, or if the ceiling would colapse over you any second. How could they do this every single day and still be able to play, and laugh? It made him reconsider what he knew of the Holocaust. They always heard of brave heroes, and heroic battles, but they never explained how psychologically painful it was to live through this. Even when they told how horrible it had been, never had they gotten close enough to this.

Currently, Harry was curled in a corner, sharing his blanket with Tom, who had Nirali wrapped around his waist, under a notice-me-not charm. Of course they had not missed the opportunity to use their magic to make themselves a little bit more comfortable and escape trouble. They had put some cushioning and warming charms in the blanket before they left the orphanage earlier that day, for example. And they both carried their wands in their holsters at all times, just in case. At least they were now a hundred percent sure that the anti trace pendant worked, since there were no ministry Howlers arriving whenever they performed magic.

Tom looked asleep, but Harry knew better, having slept around the boy for a whole year. He didn't want to talk, and Harry could get that, considering their current location and circumstances. After all, the matron was paying too much attention to the both of them at all times. Probably, because she knew Harry went to the same school as Tom Riddle and he wasn't afraid of said boy, which in her books meant that Harry was a bigger threat for now.

Trying to follow Riddle's example, Harry closed his eyes and focused in entering his mindscape. After all James was the only one that could help him calm down, with whatever memories he wanted to share, or his dumb facts acquired via books he found in the limbo.

After a while he encountered himself in a very familiar room, full of sofas, books and blankets. James was reading a book about genetics next to the fireplace when Harry arrived, or trying to, considering he was counting every second of misery the boys were experiencing. Of course, James wasn't about to tell his younger self that bit of information, the boy was already scared as it is.

"Hey kiddo, you okay?"

Dumb question as it may be, it warmed Harry's insides knowing that at least there was someone who he could turn to.

"Not really, but I think I will be if you continue telling me stories about your timeline."

James sighed, resigning himself to share more of his memories with his younger counterpart. Two days ago he had told him about Sirius, Remus, Peter and James, the Marauders.

Harry had loved every detail he could get from his parents' days, and had absorbed everything like a sponge. In his mind, it was fitting that his dad's best mate was a Black, judging that his best mate now was also a Black. And he was ecstatic for the time Orion became a parent, so he could finally get to know Sirius.

So, judging by how Harry already knew about the Marauders, James decided it was time to share Lily Evans' childhood friend's story. It was time to reveal the true nature of Severus Snape. Oh, how fun that would prove to be.

"Very well, kiddo. Prepare yourself to hear the most mind blowing story of all times."

And that's exactly how they spent the next few hours, giving Harry a sense of security and comfort greater than everything in this timeline. They were both curled in a sofa inside Harry's mindscape, both processing the implications of the story in silence. It was a perfect moment of bonding.

But all of that comfort was short lived, once Harry remembered James would need to leave on September first, as per Death's command. He was not ready to face the world without James by his side. So, he did the most reasonable thing he could think of. He turned to face James and embraced him in a big hug.

James, sensing the quick atmosphere change decided to embrace Harry just as tight. He had a feeling as to what triggered this episode, but didn't comment on it. At least, until Harry said something, which didn't take long.

"Why do you have to leave so soon? I don't think I can do this without you, James. Please, don't go. It's too soon."

A sob escaped Harry's mouth, and he was clinging to James as if letting go was the most painful thing in the world. And at that very moment, James' heart broke into so much tiny pieces he was about to break down then and there, too. How? How will he be able to leave, move on, and leave this scared child behind in the middle of two wars? He knew he had to do it since the beginning, and so did Harry, but it didn't make it any easier to face.

"Shhh, don't. Let's tackle this later, okay? For now, why don't you try to relax? Just a bit?"

Harry nodded, still embracing James with all his might. He was brave, and strong, but there were some times he needed to vent, and the only person he could rely on was James. He was a stranger in this time, after all, even when he felt that he truly belonged by now. But James was right, dwell on it now would only sour their limited time. So they remained together in their embrace, Harry still sobbing now and then.

At the same time, outside of Harry's mindscape, Tom was laying awake. The matron had drifted to sleep, as well as all of the other kids. But he couldn't. He was tense, and angry for having to live this, every day, every summer. He was pondering if it was a good idea to try to force sleep into himself when he heard it. A sob. And it came from Potter's mouth. Soon, the boy began shaking slightly, and Tom realized, to his horror, that Potter was crying.

That was so rare, and out of place that Tom truly didn't know what to do. Potter, strong and brave Potter, was having a hard time too. Was it only because of the war? He couldn't be sure, but it hurt him nonetheless, to find that Potter was hurting. That was also a foreign concept for him. Tom Riddle never had experienced empathy before.

Before he could dwell much on it, though, he heard another thing come out of the other boy's lips. It sounded much like a 'James don't'. In parseltounge. Tom felt a surge of jealousy flash through him. He didn't know who James was, but it was hurting Harry and he had to stop it. He assumed it was a nightmare, oblivious to the happenings inside Harry's mindscape, and so, decided to shake the boy awake.

"Potter! Psst. Wake up, it's just a nightmare."

Harry could faintly hear Tom's voice leaking inside his mindscape, and realized he had probably spoken out loud at some point. So, giving a last squeeze to James' frame, he emerged to reality. He hadn't expected to feel warm tears sliding down his cheeks, nor had he expected the concerned face Tom was showing. It was confusing, and he was clearly not thinking straight, judging how he had reached towards where Tom was sitting and curled next to him, gripping his shirt and mumbling in parseltounge about 'leaving' and 'not being ready'.

Tom, even more confused as before, reacted out of impulse, and embraced Harry. Followed by tensing his muscles once he processed what he had done. However he didn't pull away, as he felt Harry relax in his embrace, and instead he started telling Harry sweet nothings in parseltounge, until Harry relaxed fully and fell asleep, still gripping Tom's shirt, and nuzzling his face in said boy's chest.

Tom was left wondering what had happened, who was that James and what he was to Harry, but most importantly, why did he care so much about it? He couldn't find a suitable explanation, and eventually fell asleep too, his head resting atop Harry's.