Chapter 22

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Author's Note: TW for racism, mentions of lynching. 

This is a relatively heavy chapter. Take care of yourselves.

This is the point in this fic where everything changes. 

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Second Term

Their detention with Snape was grueling work, but it could have been much worse. For the level of their infraction, Harry and Tom had gotten away with a minor slap on the wrist. The issue was not that they had been caught in the halls during curfew, rather, that invisibility cloaks were high up on the Hogwarts's list of prohibited items, as they were a severe risk to privacy.

Professor Snape's demeanor towards them didn't change much, though Professor Snape's eyes tended to linger on Harry during class, not unlike the way Professor Yates' once did (but without any of the murderous intent, of course).

And Harry took Professor Snape's advice to heart, persuading Tom on the importance of clean crystals. They owl-ordered new quartz crystals from Hogsmeade, a thankfully unsuspicious purchase since quartz crystals were used for a variety of purposes other than cleansing rites. However, it did end up costing quite a bit of money, which made Tom more than a little unhappy.

But spending a little extra money for guaranteed safety was the least of their worries these days. They had to be mindful of their safety during their sessions with Dark Magic, as they now had advanced to practicing curses, spells that liked to bounce and deflect off of the dummies instead of being absorbed, which called for extra caution. Moreover, the fighting by the Americans and Japanese picked up in the Pacific, and the wizards mirrored their muggle counterparts, which caused the intensity of the second term to grow uncontrollably. Meanwhile, professors madly assigned essays and homework and scheduled tests like there was no tomorrow, sending the student body into a panicked, wild frenzy.

However, Tom had also begun growing a little... distant. And Harry didn't know why. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong, but there was always a reason for why Tom would grow more detached. What Harry did know was that Tom had checked out many library books pertaining to Salazar Slytherin.

Seeing Tom hunched over at his desk and scribbling something in his notebook, Harry walked over and gently tapped him on the shoulder. The words were incomprehensible to him, written in a furious scrawl that was a mangled version of Tom's usually elegant calligraphy. Clearly, Tom was agitated emotionally.

Tom spun around, a scowl marring his handsome face. "Anything interesting?" Harry asked lightly.

Tom narrowed his eyes and turned back to his notebook. He dipped his quill into his inkpot as he said, "I'm busy. Come back later."

A faint flare of annoyance shot through Harry. "Really, what's so interesting?" he pressed, crossing his arms.

"Nothing," came the clipped reply. "Just writing down... theories that I have."

That was never a good sign. But there was little Harry could do about it. "Fine. But if you feel comfortable sharing, tell me."

Tom waved his hand impatiently without ever looking up as he jotted down whatever was going on in that head of his.

Please tell me it's not about his ancestry. Tom had many wild ideas concerning his heritage, particularly that he was related to Salazar Slytherin through his maternal bloodline. Harry thought it was a moot point—after all, they had argued many times about its veracity.

The following day, Harry found Tom slaving away at whatever was written down in his notebook, a copy of a biography of the Hogwarts Founders opened to a page on Salazar Slytherin.

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