Poetic Justice [Tomarry]

Chapter 1: Ironically Alive

Harry has no idea why he looks like Tom Riddle again, instead of a nose-less lizard, but he quickly decides that doesn't matter at the moment. He looks only a bit older than the diary—Harry remembers it so clearly, even after all these years—but so many things are wrong. His normally perfect hair is a disheveled mess, overgrown and covering his crimson-colored eyes. His usual posture that all but radiates power and leadership is no more, not even a spec remaining. Instead, Riddle seems like he wants nothing more than to phase through the floor, shrinking in within himself, making himself as small as possible.

And despite Riddle avoiding his gaze, Harry quickly caught sight of Riddle's blood red eyes, carefully neutral, with only a subdued acknowledgment that he can't stop whatever is going to happen. He's accepted his fate, because there's no other option.

Harry turns back to the lady, his voice distinctly toneless, only barely suppressing the storm of emotions inside of him. "I don't want a slave."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Riddle drain of blood, becoming even more sickly pale than before, and almost shrink in on himself even more.

Before Ms. Holly can respond like she's about to, still much too joyful in Harry's opinion, he continues, realizing he probably said something wrong, "What happens if I don't accept him?"

"Oh! The slave will be handed over to authorities to be tortured painfully for a few months, before finally being left to die," Ms. Holly exclaimed, her happy tone a direct contrast with Riddle's reaction to hearing his fate out loud.

"You.. can't just do.. a death sentence..?" Harry asks warily, already scared of the answer.

"You are free to kill the slave whenever you want, since they belong to you, but that is what the judge decided will happen should you refuse the offer."

The more Harry learns of.. whatever this is, the less he likes it. "What, you would really let me just walk over there right now," Harry gestures to where Tom is sitting, pointedly not looking himself, "and let me kill him? And nobody would care?"

Even before Ms. Holly answered, Harry knew he wouldn't like the answer. He's not liking any of this.

"Of course! The slave is yours to do with as you'd like."

Instead, Harry tries a different approach, still purposely avoiding looking at Riddle. "And what's stopping him from trying to escape? Or, you know, actually listening to my orders in the first place?"

"If, at any point, you are displeased with your slave, you may return them and they will await torture and death—the same thing as if you don't accept them. You may also train and punish the slave at your discretion."

Harry hears the chains behind him shift softly, but he doesn't even glance over. He isn't sure what would do if he saw Riddle again right now, aurors looming over him, and an inescapable fate being talked about right in front of him.

(He realizes he should probably be mad at Riddle—for everything that he had done as a Dark Lord, from killing Harry's parents, dooming him to the Dursleys, and hurting so many of his friends, but he isn't. He's angry, yes, but not at Riddle. Not at the moment, when he's too livid at the thought of slavery to be mad at Riddle.)

Harry tries to focus on what Ms. Holly is saying instead, gripping the book in his hand a bit tighter. "And what's stopping him from using magic and trying to kill me, exactly?"

"Hm? Oh, the slave has had their magic bound, usable to your discretion. For instance, if you were to say 'Only expelliarmus', that would be the only spell the slave would be able to use. Or you could say 'Only Wingardium Leviosa when I am present', and they would be forced to obey. Of course, you can just say 'No magic', eliminating the possibility of them using magic in the first place."

"That's very.. specific." Harry doesn't really know what to say to that.

"Yes. That way you get the most use out of your slave, without risk of them retaliating in the process. Anything magical is fully under your control."

"Wonderful." Harry isn't sure if his voice could sound more monotone if he tried.

Ms. Holly continues, much to Harry's dissatisfaction. "One more thing." Oh thank Merlin, we're almost done. "The guidebook I gave you contains several high-quality punishment tools, as a special thanks for saving the wizarding world." Wait, hold on a moment-

Harry knows he didn't just imagine the glance she gave Riddle, still sitting behind him, still being guarded by the two aurors.

Harry intentionally doesn't ask what kind of 'punishment tools', quite sure he doesn't want to know. The thought makes him even more nauseous than he already is.

"So," Ms. Holly cocks her head to the side, "will you be accepting the slave?"

And, oh, it's time for Harry to decide. Really, his only answer should be 'no', and he's really tempted to say just that. He doesn't want anything to do with a slave, and nor does he ever want to be near Voldemort again, but...

Harry looks over to where Riddle is still kneeling, still just as pale, but now trembling uncontrollably, awaiting his fate.

Harry doesn't want a slave, but he doesn't want to be responsible for somebody's—even Voldemort's—death, especially when he has the power to stop it.

"I accept."

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>:D

*ducks bricks*

Lemme know what you think! If you have any questions, I'll be more than happy to answer them all, because I have no life. Or rather, this entire fanfic idea is my life now.