lomonaaeren

Part One.

Title: Genius by the Numbers (2/5 or 6)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Tom Riddle, background James/Lily, Tom/OFC, and Sirius/Remus
Content Notes: AU (the Potters live), angst, violence, family drama, infidelity, past minor character death, dubious consent
Rating: R
Wordcount: This part 6100
Summary: AU. Harry Potter, as the eldest brother of the Girl-Who-Lived, has always felt like the average person in his family of geniuses. He has a plan that might change that, but meanwhile, he has to contend with his partially estranged family as he attends his sister’s wedding. And contend, too, with his sister’s fiancé, Tom Riddle.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “From Samhain to the Solstice” fics for this year, and should have three parts, to be posted over the next three days.

Thank you for the reviews! I’m sure you’ll be just heartbroken when I tell you that this story is now looking likelier to be five or six parts rather than three.

Part Two

“Is that you, Harry? Come in!”

Harry smiled as he shook the soot off his cloak and hung it on a peg next to the fireplace. “Technically I already did, Padfoot.” The smells of sausage and eggs drifting from the kitchen were making his mouth water. Sirius had never had a house-elf after he moved out of Grimmauld Place when Harry was still a little kid, but that didn’t matter, not when he was such a good cook himself.

“Welcome, Harry, welcome,” Remus said, coming forwards with his hand out. He looked so much less tense and stressed now than he had when Harry was young, and Remus was working frantically to keep the secret of his lycanthropy from everyone. After he’d saved the Malfoys’ son, Draco, from a vampire at the risk of his own life, Lucius Malfoy had worked tirelessly in turn to ram laws through the Wizengamot that would give werewolves more rights.

Harry had gone to school with Draco, and he thought the Malfoys were pompous pricks, but at least they paid their debts. Remus could hold a job now, and he worked in an archive at the Ministry restoring old tomes and scrolls. He could be openly married to Sirius, he could get Wolfsbane for free from St. Mungo’s, and he could trust himself around his best friends’ children.

Harry thought he always could have, of course. But if the new laws convinced Remus, he would take it.

“How are you holding up, with the wedding?” Remus asked in a lower voice as he and Harry walked towards the kitchen. Remus had been the one to listen to Harry’s complaints about Diana and his parents, without judgment, while Sirius had always been the one to try and effect a reconciliation.

Harry shrugged a little. “What she said last night was rude. But what hurt more was having Mum say that I had to be the one to apologize.”

Remus growled lightly as they took seats on either side of the small table that Sirius delighted in crowding people around. “I wish she knew what saying like things like that does.”

“Who says what things does?” Sirius grinned as he placed a huge dish of scrambled eggs in front of them, followed by one of sausages, and a platter of toast.

“You aren’t as clever as you think you are, Padfoot.”

But Remus’s voice was soft with affection as he said it, and the glancing hand he let fall across Sirius’s wrist only made Sirius’s grin widen. Harry held his own smile and sipped from the cup of tea Sirius had already floated to sit in front of him.

He wished he could find someone like they had found each other, someone who would love him as fiercely and devotedly. But he wasn’t that kind of person. Maybe after he had changed his personality and his intelligence with the Arithmancy equations, then he would be.

At least I’ll have a happier marriage than Diana will.

Harry grimaced, which he wanted to hide, but Sirius was in the middle of turning around and caught him. “What are you doing?” he scolded lightly as he floated Harry’s plate and fork and spoon in front of him. “No long faces at breakfast!”

That was an old rule, that everyone would eat first and complain later. Harry relaxed and reached for the spoon that stuck out of the scrambled eggs.

Sirius snatched it away first, laughing childishly.

Three, Harry thought reflexively, bringing down the full force of his concentration without effort. The spoon rose from Sirius’s hand, snatched by a small curving breeze that would have formed the upper and lower loops of a three if anyone could have seen it, and then soared over to Harry’s hand.

“No wands at breakfast, either!”

Harry was grateful for the table that kept them from seeing that he hadn’t drawn his wand. He smiled temperately and shrugged, making a motion as if he was storing it in his holster again. “Sorry, Sirius.”

“You don’t have to be serious! Jokes are allowed, just no wands.”

“Sirius,” Remus sighed, looking as if he wanted to put a hand over his eyes.

Harry chuckled and returned to eating, glad, too, that he wore the heavy green robes he’d wear to the wedding. They were uncomfortable, but they would account for the flush that was rising to his face.

Stupid. Idiot. I can’t believe that I just used that Arithmancy without even thinking about it! That’s not the way it’s supposed to work!

That was part of the problem with Heller’s Theorem, Harry supposed. It said that it would be easy for someone to use Arithmantic magic for anything if they could control their sense of the numbers. And that meant, in turn, that Harry kept using it for anything.

No more Arithmancy until after the wedding, he decided, and finished up his eggs and sausage, and the toast with thick orange marmalade, which was as good as everything else Sirius ever made.

When they were done and leaning back in their chairs, Sirius sighed, sipped the tea, and looked directly into Harry’s eyes. “So what’s going to happen after the wedding?”

Harry shrugged and glanced down. “I thought I could use the wedding as a chance to talk to my parents and Diana and heal some old wounds,” he murmured. “But it isn’t working. I don’t think Diana has forgiven me for telling her that she shouldn’t marry Riddle. And Mum and Dad are inclined to prioritize Diana over everything else.”

“Her control over her magic hasn’t got better,” Remus said. “That disturbs me. Did you notice, Padfoot? Yes, it was calm last night, but only because Riddle was sitting beside her the entire time. She ought to be able to control it on her own by now.”

Sirius frowned. “I know. But that’s one reason I think she has to marry Riddle, because we haven’t found anyone else or any spell or potion that can help her control it.”

Harry nodded and let it slide. His opinion was that something had fundamentally broken in Diana’s magic when she had to confront Voldemort at too young an age, and she would never have control of it again. But that wasn’t something even Sirius and Remus wanted to hear, willing to admit Diana’s faults though they were.

“I worry about her happiness with him,” he said, with a slight shrug. “Riddle was a pompous prick the two years I knew him in Hogwarts.”

“He treats her like a princess, though,” Remus said, in a peacekeeping tone of voice.

It’s not going to work with them, either, Harry decided, and changed the subject. “So I’m going to try staying away for a while after the wedding. Maybe visit with Violet on Hogsmeade weekends after she goes back to school.”

“I hate to see you exiled from your family,” Sirius said, waving his teacup around hard enough to make a little liquid slosh over the side. “It’s stupid and senseless.”

“It’s not really exile,” Harry said, and for a second, he thought about telling them what he planned to do with his Artithmancy equations. Then he dismissed it. They would probably be horrified and tell him that he was good enough the way he was, and that he didn’t need to change to fit in with the rest of the Potters.

He did, though. He wasn’t a genius, he wasn’t the kind of person they could accept, and he wasn’t the kind of person who could accept Riddle, who presumably would be married to Diana for the foreseeable future. If he wanted his parents and sisters back—and he did—he had to become one or all of those things.

“I noticed that Riddle left the room a short time after you did,” Remus said quietly. “Were you arguing with him?”

“Sort of,” Harry said, because an argument was only a real one when one of the parties wasn’t insane. “At least he didn’t toss the Defense book I gave Diana.”

“She was rude,” Remus said, with a decisive little nod of his head. “She could have said thank you easily enough in front of the other guests.”

Harry smiled at him while a rush of warmth went through him. “Thanks, Remus.”

Sirius started to add something, but then paused and turned his head. “Just a minute. The Floo is whooshing like someone’s trying to come through.” He put down his teacup and walked out of the room.

“I hope you don’t think you need to change yourself to gain Diana’s approval, or your parents’.” Remus patted Harry’s shoulder. “You’re already more than enough of a good person, and they’re under a lot of stress with the wedding. When it’s over, I think they’ll be ready to talk reasonably about things.”

Harry kept the smile, even though he agreed with none of what Remus had said, and just nodded.

“Look what the Slytherin brought in.”

Harry jerked his head around, because that wasn’t the sort of normal thing Sirius said. And walking behind Sirius was anything but a normal sight. Tom Riddle settled his cloak around himself—of course he hadn’t got any soot on it coming through the Floo—and gave them a calm nod and smile.

Well, maybe Remus thought it was calm. The eyes he locked on Harry burned.

“Mr. Lupin. Harry. May I join you for the remains of breakfast?”

*

This is insane, Harry thought, sitting back in his chair and trying to be unnoticed while Remus and Riddle politely discussed the latest round of anti-vampire laws that Malfoy was trying to push through.

At least he wasn’t being forced to participate in the conversation verbally. But he couldn’t ignore Riddle, either. Riddle had taken the seat next to Harry without asking, just with his natural smoothness that made it seem as if it was the expected action, and hadn’t glanced at him much after he began eating.

But beneath the table, his hand rested lightly on Harry’s left thigh, massaging gently back and forth.

Harry had already tried to move away, and the hand had tightened to the point that it had made Harry hiss. Remus had given him a concerned glance. Harry had shrugged, and Remus had nodded a little and gone back to the conversation with Riddle, probably deciding that the hiss was an expression of displeasure at having to sit next to the future brother-in-law he despised.

Harry was actually contemplating standing up and ripping away from Riddle, consequences be damned. He might be blamed for Diana’s future husband being obsessed with him—even though he hadn’t done anything—but that would be better than the sharp tingles he could feel racing towards his groin.

Even if the robes were also heavy enough to hide his erection.

“I do agree,” Riddle was saying to Remus. “Basing the laws that one is willing to pass or fight for on personal vengeance is short-sighted.” He shrugged and sat back, a move that slid his hand in a long caress up Harry’s leg. Harry tried to jigger himself free, but Riddle merely readjusted his grip without losing a moment. “But I’m afraid that’s the way a lot of purebloods are.”

Maybe I can irritate him into letting go. “And you’re not?” Harry asked sweetly. “I remember you telling Diana that you think purebloods should be the masters of the wizarding world because you hated the Muggle side of your family.”

Riddle spun towards him at once, his delighted grin so wide that Harry knew immediately he’d played right into the bastard’s hands.

Pun not intended.

“It’s true that I’ve thought that for a long time,” Riddle said, staring at Harry as if no one in the universe had ever deserved to be the center of his attention more. “But lately, I’ve had cause to think otherwise. After all, my future spouse is a half-blood. I’m one myself. Why would purebloods be better?”

Harry frowned at him, but Sirius was the one who answered. “Damn decent of you, Riddle,” he said, voice thick enough in sarcasm to make Remus frown at him. “It only took you, what? Five years to think about that?”

“Well.” Riddle tilted his head a little in what could vaguely be called Sirius’s direction without taking his eyes from Harry. “Something happened recently that made me realize how shallow my former stance was. Last night, in fact.”

Harry couldn’t help the tightening of his shoulders. Remus saw, but apparently mistook the cause. “It’s all right, Harry,” he said. “I’m sure that Tom doesn’t think your gift of a book to Diana was rude.”

“Of course not.” Riddle’s voice was low, coiling around Harry like a tentacle. “In fact, one should never disdain new knowledge, or assume that one person has the sum total of it.” He sighed and finally turned away from Harry to regard Remus, although of course he didn’t take his hand off Harry, the fucking git. “I apologize for Diana. Her gesture had its value, though, in that it did get me thinking.”

“Anyone would be lucky to marry Diana,” Sirius said, a warning in his voice.

“Anyone would be lucky to marry any Potter,” said Riddle earnestly, and his fingers slid softly and teasingly down the inside of Harry’s thigh this time. “Some of them have some awkward traits, that’s true, but those can be corrected in time.”

He almost pinched Harry, and Harry had had enough, his earlier promise to himself or not. He brought his magic to bear, in the same quick way that he’d done it with the spoon, so it was likely that Sirius and Remus wouldn’t sense it, and thought, Five.

Riddle’s fingers bent forcefully back and away from him, all five loosening their grip whether or not Riddle wanted to. Riddle lifted his hand and held it for a moment, out of sight under the table, still talking, as if he thought it might be a natural occurrence.

Maybe I should hope for that.

But Riddle turned his head a second later, as Remus said something to Sirius across the table, and gave Harry a wink with the eye they couldn’t see. His face shone with excitement.

And Harry didn’t think it was excitement about his upcoming wedding.

*

“I think I’d rather Apparate.”

“You know your mum will kill you if you’re late for the wedding,” said Remus firmly, adjusting the hang of his own red robes in the mirror that Sirius kept in the sitting room, because he was a vain wanker like that. “ And she’ll kill certain other people if they’re late,” he added, raising his voice.

There was a bump and a yelp from the direction of the bedroom. “Not my fault Riddle’s theories were interesting enough to keep us talking!” Sirius yelled.

Harry leaned his back against the fireplace and put his hands in his robe pockets, ignoring the fact that soot would probably get on the back of the cloth, ignoring his own gladness that his erection had subsided after Riddle hadn’t tried to touch him again, ignoring the way that Riddle was bloody staring at him. Although to Remus, it probably looked like Riddle was staring ahead with an abstracted, half-lidded gaze, and Harry just happened to be in the way.

They were all going through the Floo together, because it would be faster. And because Riddle had insisted.

Harry just wanted to bang his head against something solid, Riddle’s skull for preference. What in the world did he think he was doing? He was getting married in two hours.

“Sirius, honestly!”

“This Muggle zipper you made me get is stuck!”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Remus sighed, looking as though he might regret his own marriage, and strode off in the direction of his hapless husband.

Riddle barely waited until Remus was out of the room. “Harry,” he said, rolling the word around his mouth like a sweet. “Shall I tell you how glorious you look in those robes? Although not as glorious as you did last night, with your magic glowing around your hands.”

Harry stared at him for a second, and then looked away. He wouldn’t respond, not with words and not with magic. Let Riddle run up against a brick wall, and he would probably give up.

Although Harry would have chuckled if he could have responded any way he wanted without Riddle doing something strange. He thought complimenting the way Harry looked was going to get him Harry’s attention?

Harry knew exactly what he looked like, and it wasn’t like his sisters, who had had people pining over them for years (although Violet typically never noticed).

“Harry. Look at me.”

Harry continued to stare aside. At least something was working. He thought about whistling a jaunty tune, but that probably wouldn’t fall into the category of truly ignoring Riddle.

Riddle crossed the room to him in a near-silent stalk. Harry stared at him. And what was he going to do now, when Sirius and Remus would probably be coming back into the room at any second?

(Probably. From the muffled voices that came to Harry, Sirius’s argument with the zipper was ongoing).

Up close, Riddle looked like a hungry wolf. Harry wanted to shake his head. Was Diana just blind? Or did he truly never wear this expression around her?

A disquieting idea occurred to Harry then, and he asked it before he could think better of it, the same way he had tried to defend himself at the party last night against his better judgment. “So are you faking that you want me, or are you faking that you want Diana?”

A wave of light seemed to roll over Riddle, rising up from inside his chest and swamping his face and eyes. “Which do you think is more likely?’

Oh, well, if we’re playing guessing games. “Me,” Harry said, both because he wanted it to be true and because it most likely was. Riddle had attached himself to Diana from his first days out of the diary. Even if that was because she was the Girl-Who-Lived more than because he loved her—like he was capable of love—why abandon the plans of five years because Harry had displayed some odd magic?

From the way Riddle talked, he wanted to go into politics, and Diana did offer him some political power as her husband, especially if he could poke and prod her into doing things herself. Harry, on the other hand, could offer…

What? The ability to be an expert on how much food people typically purchased for their Kneazles in a given day?

Harry snorted, and Riddle paused. “I amuse you?”

His voice had sunk into a low, rattling hiss. Harry stared back at him, unafraid. “Well, yeah. I know that you’re probably not attracted purely to a person’s looks, but to how much power they have. And that makes Diana your best choice. Marrying a war heroine who can garner political goodwill at the crook of a finger—”

“I am attracted to power. There is more than one kind.”

Riddle had come close enough now to rest a hand on the stone of the fireplace above Harry’s head. Harry didn’t back down or back away. Riddle was bizarre, but Harry was sure of his read on the git. Riddle had spent the last five years maneuvering for political power, securing it by making himself the hero of Diana’s personal fairy tale and then the probable husband of the Girl-Who-Lived. The connections he could make among the people who had been at the pre-wedding party last night alone would outweigh in value anything Harry could give him.

There had been a point when Harry even thought Diana might listen to him if he told her that. Well, he was less naïve than that now.

“You are incredible,” Riddle said, his voice a growl. “You could change the world.”

Harry laughed at him, and moved away from him as he heard Remus and Sirius returning. “I have no such ambitions.”

“I have.”

“So take the bloody notes I made you and work the Arithmantic magic to your own advantage,” Harry snapped, lowering his voice. Remus and Sirius were right outside the sitting room door, although by the sound of it they were arguing about something else and might not hear him. “You can do it. Anyone can do it, now that they know how! If anything, you ought to do it better than me. You’re more powerful than I am, more intelligent.”

Riddle stared at him with a blank face. But this didn’t look like the blank face he used to fool Diana and the others that he had their best interests at heart. It seemed to be the sort worn to conceal shock.

Why?

But the door swung open, and Remus and Sirius entered, and Harry dismissed the thought. Fuck the idea of reconciling with his family. He would leave as soon as possible after the ceremony and spend months away. He didn’t have to spend time around them to perfect his equations. Twenty-two years of memories were more than enough.

“Ready to go, boys?”

That was Remus, sounding, as his eyes flickered back and forth between Harry and Riddle, as if he understood that tension existed, but not what had caused it. Sirius was too busy sulking about the zipper on his robes to care.

Harry gave him a bright smile. “Of course,” he said, and made sure to be the first through the Floo.

*

The Potter gardens had been utterly transformed in anticipation of Diana’s wedding.

She had chosen an airy theme, and so everything floated. The arch of intertwined white flowers, most of them lilies, that framed the entrance to the closest seating area didn’t touch the ground. The tables revolved slowly through the air beyond the arch, the chairs dancing in perfect harmony with them, and dangled inviting ladders down to the ground. The air itself sparkled and glowed with arches of power like rainbows visible only edge-on, wards that protected the wedding party from incoming curses. Diana had got threats from both former Death Eaters and people who wanted to marry either her or Tom Riddle themselves. Everyone took her safety seriously.

The trees around the gardens had been charmed to shine blue, like the lights on the wards around the Potions garden last night. Harry walked along the shining stones of the path that had been charmed the same way, and watched water rising and pouring back into its pools, and the sway of flowers charmed blue and white, and thought, An hour. Just one more hour.

Violet was walking ahead of him in rich red robes she had chosen herself and which no one had been able to talk her out of. She carried a large ivory bow that the Witches’ Wonderful Wedding Shop had made for Diana in honor of her namesake, the hunter goddess. Violet was supposed to fire an arrow into the air when the happy couple kissed.

Harry, meanwhile, just had words to speak. He was more relieved than he could express.

“Harry.”

He glanced up to see that Violet had turned around and was walking backwards, holding the bow and staring at him. People had to dodge out of her way to avoid her, not that she would care about that.

“Yes?”

“I worked a predictive equation this morning. I was trying to see how happy Diana and Riddle would be in the marriage.”

Harry held his tongue over the immediate thought that Arithmantic equations couldn’t predict things like that. Perhaps for Violet, for whom the numbers danced, they did. And he should be the last one to speak about what was and wasn’t possible with Arithmancy. “Yes?” he repeated encouragingly.

“I got no answer. The equation dissolved into gibberish, and the numbers changed as I was watching them.” Violet stopped in place, and shivered. “What do you think that means?”

It was so rare that she expressed this level of emotion, pain stamped into the lines of her face, that Harry moved forwards and put a cautious hand on her shoulder. She actually turned towards him, and nestled into his side. Harry transferred the hand on her shoulder to a whole arm around her.

Granted, the pain was probably more about the idea that she had somehow lost her gift for Arithmancy than the idea that Diana and Riddle might not have a happy marriage. But Harry still ran a gentle hand up and down her back until she sighed and relaxed against him.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “It might be that their emotions are complex enough that it wasn’t a good question, though.”

“The question.” Violet lifted her head, staring at Harry as if he was the genius around here. “I never thought of that. If I asked the wrong question, and then focused my mind on predicting the outcome for the right one, of course the equations would dissolve.”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. So Violet also knew about the importance of fixing her mind on numbers? It had never occurred to him that he could share his Arithmantic magic with anyone in the family before, but maybe he could.

“I think that’s much more likely than you suddenly not being able to use the magic you’re best at.”

Violet nodded, and then stepped hard away from him. Harry let her go, and she went back to parading along the path with the bow, her back straight and her head uplifted.

Well, at least I can be a comfort to one of my sisters.

*

The nearest seating area was full of people, crowded around the little floating tables, sometimes sitting two to a chair or in a Transfigured seat that Harry sincerely hoped wouldn’t break apart in midair. The last thing they wanted to disrupt Diana’s wedding was a guest becoming a huge smear of blood across the ground.

Harry’s idly wandering gaze caught that of Draco Malfoy. The Malfoys were no friends of the Potters, but of course it wouldn’t do to have them miss this momentous occasion. Draco lifted his glass of sparkling white wine to Harry, his gaze cold.

Harry snorted and looked away. Draco had also mocked Harry’s intelligence during their Hogwarts days, saying at one point, “Well, we can tell that the famous Potter hesitation between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw didn’t happen for him.”

No, it hadn’t. The Hat had hesitated for him—and for everyone else, although Violet had gone into Ravenclaw instead of sharing the lions’ House with him and Diana—but not between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

Harry watched with bored eyes as more and more guests continued to file in, including the press, Ministry officials, celebrities like Celestina Warbeck, the Minister for Magic, Hogwarts professors, some people from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, assorted Weasleys, assorted members of the Wizengamot, a few shopkeepers from Diagon Alley, and anyone else who had been able to cadge an invitation.

Harry had privately rolled his eyes over some of the people that Diana had apparently bumped into the street and invited. Mum and Dad had cooed about what a giving nature it showed. But all Harry could think was that if she didn’t want to have a big wedding, she shouldn’t have had one.

At last, at long last, the chorus of invisible trumpets sounded, and Diana and Riddle paraded into the gardens, beneath the floating tables, to the disc of enchanted crystal that would loft them to the floating officiant in his golden robes and benevolent smile. Harry sat up and laid his feet on his own disk of crystal, floating nearly invisible beside the chair. But he didn’t fly over yet.

He had to ignore the temptation to use his Arithmantic magic to do it, too.

Diana and Riddle’s disc rose sparkling from the ground, spinning slightly, as if to give everyone the chance to view the perfect bride and groom. Diana was smiling, her face so open that Harry felt a pang in his heart. God, he hoped Riddle was good to her.

Riddle himself bowed his head and gave that smile that apparently, according to the Daily Prophet, made him look mysterious and sexy. Harry knew it wasn’t sincere. He hated it.

And he hated the way that it became sincere for a second as Riddle’s eyes swept across him.

I should just hate everything about him, and save some time.

Another reason to take a holiday from family matters after this. Riddle and Diana were about to start a new life together, and Diana had made it clear that she wouldn’t listen to any criticism of her “lifemate.” It was best for everyone if Harry was far away.

The crystal disc rotated around, and came to a stop in front of the officiant. Then it thinned away, out of sight, although Harry knew that was only the color bleeding from it. It would remain thick and steady, holding Riddle and Diana up.

Time to go.

Mum and Dad were already riding a disc of their own up from the opposite side of the gardens, where they had burned a small offering to the powers of happiness. This was a very traditional wedding, Harry thought, as he kicked off on his own disc and sped away from the table towards the happy couple.

Of course, it could be even more traditional if Riddle had actually loved Diana.

But Harry dismissed that idea. It wasn’t his place, really. Diana had made her choice. Harry had to live with his own, not anybody else’s.

Riddle’s eyes fixed on him unwaveringly as Harry’s disc came to rest on the right side of the officiant, while Mum and Dad took the left. Violet was back and away, near her own table, where she would fire the arrow when the actual wedding ceremony was complete.

Lucky, Harry thought, and turned away from Riddle’s eyes to listen to the officiant speak. He was blathering on about the happiness of a lasting union, and how the joining magic would render both Riddle and Diana faithful and completely bound to one another.

Harry held in a snort. Maybe, once, that would have been true. Now, couples didn’t want to be trapped in an unhappy union for life, so the words were said for form and less constricting vows were actually made with magic.

Not that Diana looked as if she would ever wish to disentangle her life and magic from Riddle’s. She was staring up at him in absolute bedazzlement, her hand stroking back and forth on his arm.

Riddle had his head bent, a half-smile on his lips that was only aimed at her by courtesy. Harry knew exactly where his eyes were focused, exactly who the smile was for.

He ignored it.

He would be one of the official witnesses for the kiss, and then he would speak the words that said, “This man and woman are tied together.” Simple enough. Mum hadn’t even made him practice them more than once.

The officiant finished his speech and moved to asking the traditional questions. “Who comes forwards to claim this man?”

“I do,” Diana said, her voice soaring with confidence.

“Who comes forwards to claim this—”

“I do,” Riddle said, and smiled again. The main effect was to curve his smile a little further up his face.

Harry rolled his eyes, and didn’t care who saw him. Well, the only one looking was Riddle, anyway, and Riddle only gave one slow blink, as if to say that he acknowledged Harry’s objection without truly caring about it.

“Who will tangle her life with her spouse’s, share the magic and the joy and the happiness of being?”

“I will.” Diana spoke the words in a lyrical, soaring voice that made Harry think he had never seen the difference between them more. His determination to use the equations that would change him into a better person hardened. Whether it was to become someone who wouldn’t mind how average he was in comparison to every other Potter or someone who could match them, something needed to change.

“Who will tangle his life with his spouse’s, share the magic and the joy and the happiness of being?”

“I will.” Riddle sounded quietly confident now, which seemed like a change in mood, but Harry wasn’t going to satisfy the bastard with even too direct a glance.

“Who will be sword and shield for her spouse, who will rise to the challenges of life that beset the two of you?”

“I will.” Diana still shone, her hands clasped in front of her. Out of the corner of his vision, Harry could see Mum whipping out a handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

“Who will be sword and shield for his spouse, who will rise to the challenges of life that beset the two of you?”

“I will.” Riddle’s voice was definitely louder than it had been a moment ago, and he turned his head to catch Harry fully in his gaze.

Harry blinked. A faint alarm began to ring in the back of his mind. But he didn’t understand what it would be for. There was only one more vow left, and the kiss, and his witnessing, and Violet shooting the arrow. That was all.

Surely even that prat Riddle couldn’t manage to mess up that much with so little time to go.

“Who will remain faithful and loyal to her spouse, bound by a magic that joins unto death?”

“I will.”

Harry snapped his head around. That was the ancient vow, the one that made it almost impossible to divorce, the one that Riddle and Diana had said specifically they weren’t going to use. Was Diana mad? Or had Riddle persuaded her to do this so that he would always have a hold on her?

Diana wasn’t looking at Harry, and didn’t seem to notice the confused murmur, or the coos of those who thought it was romantic, rising from the throats of those who could only hear the vows via the wide-ranging Sonorus Charm. She had lifted adoring eyes to Riddle’s face, and he reached out and ran a finger down the side of her lips.

“Who will remain faithful and loyal to his spouse, bound by a magic that joins unto death?”

“I will,” Riddle said, and then gave a half-bow that wrenched his hand out of Diana’s. “But I claim the prerogative that comes with the ancient form of wedding, to bind myself to the spouse whose magic most closely matches me in potential.”

That made more than one person gasp, but from the complacent smile on Diana’s face, she had been expecting this. She nodded and said, “That is more than acceptable,” before closing her eyes.

Her wild magic rose around her, shining blue-green ribbons visible to everyone this time, and there were gasps of fear, but also wild clapping. Most people knew that being so close to Riddle calmed her power down, so they leaned forwards and watched avidly to see what would happen next.

Even at floating tables that she can knock down, easily, Harry thought.

Riddle’s magic unfurled around him, shining, deep, dark, a maelstrom of incredible blue with glints of red and green. It turned and turned, reaching out and tugging—tugging—

Shit!

Harry’s magic burst out of him in response. It was ragged and green-gold, tumbling around itself in intense swirls that were somewhere between Diana’s ribbons and Riddle’s maelstrom. Harry had never seen it before. He wasn’t powerful enough to have this happen.

Even as he shielded his eyes from the shine of it, he saw the form twist more and more towards a whirlpool, or a tornado, centered on him. And he saw the moment when the edges of the green-gold blended with the waters of darkness around Riddle.

More, he felt it.

Harry shuddered as the edges touched and ran together like wet watercolors. The crystal disc he stood on whirled forwards and crashed into the suddenly separate one occupied by Riddle. Harry had thought he and Diana were sharing the same disk, but apparently it was two overlapping ones.

Or had been. Now they were separate, and Riddle laid his hands over Harry’s and said clearly, “By the ancient form of wedding, I bind myself to Harry James Potter in fidelity and loyalty, as his sword and shield before the challenges of life, with my magic tangled with his and to share his magic and joy and happiness of being. Let none say that he is bound to me, but me to him.”

Riddle gave Harry a smile as poisonous as a gargoyle’s, and added, “I come forwards to claim this man.”

Through the shattering of his own inner peace, the fierce haze of his anger, and the scandalized shrieks of the guests, Harry most clearly heard, for some reason, the twang of Violet shooting the arrow.