Sweet Revenge

A certain day at Slytherin Castle

It had been less than a week that Harry had begun to relive all his days once at Hogwarts and once at Slytherin Castle, but he was already swamped with the workload he had. 

Currently, he was residing in one of the largest suites in the Castle. It was across the hall from Tom's room and diagonal from the man's office. 

He sighed. Transfiguration theory was very boring and yet he still had to do it. If you were to ask any other student at Hogwarts, even Granger, they would complain loudly about how Transfiguration theory was the bane of their existence. 

          "Toooooommmmmm!" Harry called, knowing Tom would come in sooner or later. 

He was not disappointed as, moments later, the door slid open to reveal the Dark Lord in all of his Dark Lord-ly glory; he had been in a meeting with several contacts in Germany. 

          "Yes darling?"

A light pink blush dusted Harry's cheeks; he wasn't completely used to Tom calling him pet names yet. At first, it had only been to annoy or embarrass Harry but now it was more of a habit Tom had picked up. 

          "Do I have to do this now?"

Tom smiled fondly and rolled his eyes. 

          "Yes, darling, you do."

Harry pouted petulantly, plump pink lips sliding out in an exaggerated manner. 

          "Can't I do something more interesting?"

          "...Alright, lovely."

Tom resigned himself to his inevitable fate; he really couldn't refuse Harry anything, could he? He'd come to terms with this several days ago. At the time, he had locked himself up in his study, sitting in the corner of the room with his hands of his face because Dark Lords don't give people that much leverage! 

But he'd finally decided it had to do with Harry being very useful to him. So, yes, he was Harry's...sugar daddy or whatever the youth called it these days. 

He draped his long legs over the arm of his favorite high-backed leather chair as Harry daintily sat down on the faux-leather sofa. 

          "You do know how the Second Task is in, what was it, a week or so?"

Tom nodded. 

          "Well, I was thinking of a little something I could do but..."

          "Yes?"

There was a stagnant pause. 

          "Tom?" Harry's clear voice broke through the stillness, bringing a new air of clarity with it. "What shape does your Fiendfyre take when you cast it?"

Tom, still confused, answered, 

          "A Basilisk, why?"

          "Are you able to talk to it and command it in Parseltongue?"

          "Yes. Of course...?"

          "So, assume hypothetically, I were to cast it on the Great Lake at, oh, half past nine, and assume hypothetically that it went a little bit out of control due to ecstasy -hypothetically, of course- then would you send one of your minions to make sure it doesn't burn down a specific part of the stands? Hypothetically, mind."

Tom blinked. 

          "Er...yes?"

He blinked again when Harry's expression turned to pure joy and unmasked mischievousness. 

          "Wondrous! Absolutely marvelous! So, you wouldn't mind if I borrowed Barty for a bit on the day of the Second Task?"

          "Wait...are you saying that you're going to light the Lake on fire?!" Tom enunciated, alarmed. 

He was answered only by Harry's cheeky grin and sing-songy voice as the boy called over his shoulder as he exited the room,

          "You can ask Barty to show you the memory!"

Merlin, the boy was going to be the death of him. 

----------

As Tom stared at the wall upstairs in the sitting room, Harry slid down the banister of the spiral staircase leading to the potions lab. 

He felt he ought to make a potion that would smooth out the surface of the Lake. After all, fire and angry waves were never a good combination unless you really wanted to torch the entirety of the Hogwarts population and that, Harry did not want to do. 

Still, as he made his way across the stone-walled room to the storage cabinets, he contemplated for just a few moments how wonderful it would sound to hear the screams... Oh Merlin, Tom was rubbing off on him! Bastard. 

He reached up to the top drawer and fished out the jar of preserved Adder's fork. He knew it would be a good stabilizer to the Belladonna he was planned to add in the third stage of the potion. 

Uncle Sev would be proud if he were here; unfortunately, he wasn't as he was still in his dungeon classroom teaching Harry's alternate self and the annoying Potter brat. Harry pitied the man. 

Nevertheless, he set the fire under the cauldron and boiled a half pint of water to start with. 

Humming away, he never noticed Tom until said man was directly in front of his cauldron and said (giving him a hell of a scare),

          "The Essence of comfrey is to your left; you're reaching into the Left Handed Nazle Powder."

Harry jumped, nearly spilling the powder and practically screamed at Tom. 

          "The damn hell d'ya get here?!"

Tom only tutted, reprimanding. 

          "Language, Harry dear. Do keep that tongue of your in check."

Harry scowled. 

          "Whaddya want."

          "I only came to ask you if the lock on Antonin's cell faced to the left or to the right."

          "Oh, okay. I think...it faced the left. Yeah, it was the left."

          "Thank you, Harry."

          "Stop being so posh with all the complete sentences you flaunt, you bloody wanker!"

Tom grinned, a lecherous action that only served to make Harry lose his hold of the Nazle Powder. 

          "Well then, darling, I'll leave you now." With a pointed glance to the spilled powder, he ended with a, "It seems like you have a little something to take care of."

And with that, the impetuous man glided out of the dungeons, leaving Harry to debate whether or not he saw a smirk on those handsome features. 

----------

The following day, one Tom Marvolo Riddle awoke to a strange feeling rippling across his hair. When he crossed the room to the mirror, he let out an unbecoming shriek: his hair was scarlet. 

Harry...Well, Harry was found hiding in his room the next day with a head full of obnoxious lime green hair.