Harry awoke to the soft pearly green of the morning light through murky water. For several long minutes he simply lay back in the large, warm bed, and watched the lazy undulation of the waves above. The sleepy sounds of his roommates as they awoke was what eventually got him going as well. It was a new day, a new year at Hogwarts. Even Harry himself felt new. No exceptions. No Burdens. He almost didn't know how to handle it.
On the other side of the bed curtains the room was a little cooler, and he was instantly glad he had forgotten to take his stockings off before going to sleep as his feet didn't land directly on the chilled floor. His roommates moved around in a half daze, most seeming to be working on muscle memory alone as they opened wardrobes and shuffled towards the wash room.
He followed a boy with strawberry blond hair into the bathroom, and stopped, staring around agape. Well, really after last night he shouldn't be surprised by how...over the top, everything was here. The Gryffindor bathrooms were simple, utilitarian in nature. There was a wall of stalls for showers, a wall of stalls with toilets, and sinks in between. No fuss, nothing there that didn't need to be. This was....different.
There were shower stalls, but these were bigger, more open. Though the frosted glass of the walls still afforded privacy. Opposite them were large pools cut into the floor, like the bath in the Prefect's bathroom Cedric had him use. These pools were divided by the same glass walls and doors as the showers. There was another door that led into another room full of sinks and stalls with toilets. There were no windows to the lake in either room. Which Harry had to admit was a little comforting.
He shook his head, and set about getting ready. It would take time to get used to all this...but really it wasn't bad. He eyed the baths as he slipped into one of the giant showers, already planning an evening soak.
All of this...well, it wasn't bad at all.
Sometime in the night, perhaps when they were delivering his things to the room, the house elves had affixed the Slytherin crest to his robes. A fine line a silver and green thread wove their way around the hems of his sleeves, collar, and hemline of his robes now. It was a subtle detail, the silver thread gleaming like real metal, the green so bright to be readily noticeable against the black. He liked it. Absently he wondered if there was real gold thread for the Gryffindor robes, if the other two houses also had metallic thread. There was so much new to see here, even when he thought he'd seen it all.
After brushing the hair serum on, and snagging his glasses, wand, and bag, he left the room, lost in a sea of his peers.
There were so many more people here. It was baffling. No year in his time had so many students! But his dorms had never felt too large...not like anything was missing. Did the rooms change to accommodate the number students they were meant to hold? Or just the Gryffindor dorms? He could see Malfoy eating up having all that extra space, for sure.
He shook his head as he followed the crowd to the entry way, exchanged his slippers for his shoes, and headed out the door. He needed to stop analyzing everything, as impossible as it seemed. There were simply going to be questions he'd never get the answers to, and the sooner he made the peace with that the better.
In the Great Hall the table fell into the natural order of sitting with those in your age group. Harry sat down next to Alphard as he had the night before, gaining a large, if sleepy, smile from him. The table was full of the soft, buzzing, chatter of anticipation. They'd get their schedules soon, and before they knew it they would be off to class. The time before that was liminal, breathless as everyone waited for the change.
A portly man with blond hair and a neat mustache entered the hall, and starting with the head of the table, began passing out slips of paper. He must be their head of house. He seemed jovial, stopping to chat with Tom, who Harry was not surprised to see sat at the apex of the table, before making his slow way down the line.
By the time he reached them Harry could clearly see the effects of the night before on him. His hair was, for the most part smooth, though stray wisps had gotten loose. His eyes, though kind, were red rimmed, and he walked with the air of man who tried very hard to not tip too far over in any one direction. Even if no one had said anything Harry would know the man had been in his cups the night before.
He handed Alphard his schedule with a little pat on the back before reading the next name on his list with squinted eyes. "Oh yes!" he said far louder than necessary, "Harry Evans, there you go, my boy. Can't forget you," he handed Harry the paper, tucking the rest up against his chest as he leaned down to get a better look at his new sixth year, "I say you're already causing quite a stir in the teacher lounge."
Which was the last thing Harry wanted to hear. He wanted to blend in, not stand out for no good reason before people even knew him. That was Harry Potter's life, not his. "Is that so, sir?" He asked tentatively.
Slughorn wasn't fazed by his sour mood, he smiled like it was all great fun. "My, yes! We got your test scores, after all. I do hope you find your schedule challenging enough," someone passed him by on the other side, jostling him in the process. He jumped, blinking around as though just realizing they were still in the Great Hall and he that he had a whole table to deliver to still. "I'll be off then. Do let me know if you need anything, anything at all."
Harry barely got out a, "Yes, sir," before he was bounding off to the rest of the table. He rolled the slip of paper out, smoothing it across his lap to read. It seemed normal to him. He had Charms first thing that day, then Defense, then Divination, and finally ended the day with Potions. He placed it on the table and began to eat once more, unconcerned.
At his elbow Alphard had devoured two servings of eggs and toast and was now pouring over his schedule just as hungrily. "Charms!" he barked out to no one in particular, "I hate Charms. Especially first thing in the morning."
Harry sat his fork down among his half eaten eggs and sausages, choosing instead to drink as much tea as possible. He had Charms with Alphard...he felt he needed all the caffeine he could stomach.
"It really won't be that bad," he tried to reason with Alphard, flashing him a little smile, "It's mostly just memorization."
"Yeah," A boy across from them chirped, he leaned over the table to snag the pitcher of pumpkin juice, "Besides, were learning wordless charms this year. So it's like half the work!"
This didn't seem to make things better in Alphard's mind. His glum mood didn't pick up on their walk to class, nor when they were presented the task of lifting their books without uttering a word. Harry couldn't help but smile fondly at him when Alphard's Charm book scuttled across his desk on his third attempt. He wasn't bad at it, he just didn't like it.
The more he spent with him, the more Alphard reminded him of Sirius.
When the class was over he made towards where the Defense classes were always held in his time, only for Alphard to grab his arm and hold him back.
"Where are you going, Harry? We have History now."
Harry blinked at him for a second before pulling his schedule out. It clearly said Defense. He showed it to Alphard who whipped his out to compare them. "You have Defense now, and History on Fridays? How did you manage that?"
"I...I don't know." Harry took his schedule back, no one had told him about having different classes than his year mates...and of course this made things a little difficult. Harry Potter knew the way to class, Harry Evans didn't. "I...er...I don't know where to go?" He said a little sheepishly.
"Right, right..." Alphard scratched his wild black hair in thought, it had been neat this morning, until he took his Charms frustration out on it. "I'll walk you to class, shall I?" He had a little of his usual fervor behind his words, but it was clear that he as still reeling from this unseen blow.
Harry walked with him to a class that was all too familiar. Like the room Charms was in, this was the same class he'd been going to since his first year. There wasn't anyone standing outside, or rushing in. It appeared the whole class was already inside, and very full.
"Well...this is it. I um...History is two floors down, third door on the left, if this isn't where you're supposed to be. Just look for the only ghost teacher and a room full of sleeping students."
Harry laughed and thanked him for his help, Alphard seemed like he didn't want to leave Harry there alone, but he had to rush off to class or risk being late. "My cousin would kill me if he found out," he called back in apology before disappearing from sight.
Taking a deep, steadying breath Harry squared his shoulders and marched into the room. It was time to find out what was going on.
~~~
Things would have been a lot better if he hadn't had to start the day with potions.
Oh it wasn't that the subject was difficult in any way. Tom had been cooking since he was small, the matrons of the orphanage were quick to set them to work to keep them busy. He had helped cook, and clean, and mend things. It was not the glowing past he wished to be able to call upon, for the most part he tried desperately to not remember it at all. But skills were skills no matter where or why one acquired them.
The trouble with potions was that the teacher was insufferable and anytime he was around Tom the man seemed to lose all ability to just shut up! Slughorn stood next to his desk the whole class and just chatted. Like they were friend catching up over a long break. And where this would usually fill him with smug glee. That a teacher, even an obnoxious one, understood that Tom was closer to their status than that of his own so called peers. All he wanted to do was focus on what he'd learned the night before.
On the mystery that was Harry Evans.
Who was he? How did he have the talent of the snake language? Where did he come from? The questions burned in the pit of his stomach, stomped through his head, and thanks to Slughorn's big mouth, he couldn't really do anything about them.
When class was over he scooped up his things and marched out with as much dignity as he could muster. Head Boys couldn't allow themselves to wallow, Tom least of all. But he wouldn't find any answers to his question in the next class either. Where Slughorn drowned out his thoughts by being loud and mind numbing, he would be too busy lending a hand in the next class to give into his thoughts as well.
He took his usual seat, laid out his notebook, pen, ink, and book, and waited.
Those around him chattered, as persistent and annoying as nats. Professor Merythought only let in those who passed the O.W.L classes with Outstanding into her N.E.W.T classes. The class would have been incredibly bare if she didn't also schedule it so that all the Houses took it at once. There were just enough students to make the room not feel cavernous. As it was there were more than a few empty seats in the back.
Some said that she set up this arrangement to make the students work harder in sixth year. But Tom had been working with her one on one since his fifth year. He knew she did it because, though she was still spry, she was getting old. Tired. She just didn't have the energy to teach an N.E.W.T level class more than once, or to a whole room of students.
He was probably the only one who knew the arrangement came from need and was not the workings of an evil genius. Keeping her secret safe was just another way that Tom had been working his way into her good graces. She'd be sure to put in a good word for him when she stepped down.
The mindless chatter around him dulled, then stopped. every eye turning to the door. Tom turned as well, expecting Merrythought and her stooped shoulders, in her lace covered robes that she probably bought a hundred years ago.
Instead a small dark figure was lingering in the doorway looking nervous and lost.
After a small pause in which Tom considered all his options, all the possible ways this could go, he said, "Harry?" voice pitched to draw his and everyone else's attention, but soft enough to be nonthreatening. Bright green eyes locked onto his own, there was something else there, surprise maybe. Tom gave him a soft smile in return. "Are you lost?"
Harry hesitated and Tom took the time to rise and cross the room, "Did you get separated from your class?" he asked when he was close enough, trying to not appear looming against Harry's smaller stature.
Harry held a crumpled bit of paper in his hands, he twisted it a little as he spoke. "No...I, uh, think I'm in this class."
At Tom's raised eyebrow Harry handed him the paper, his schedule, and sure enough there it was, Defense Against the Dark Arts for this slot, no mistaking it. Tom blinked down at him in surprise before a another, more genuine smile curved his lips. "So you are. Come on then, Harry," he handed the schedule back and motioned for Harry to follow him, "You can sit next to me."
Harry followed him to the front of the class, taking the empty seat next to Tom. He watched from the corner of his eye as Harry laid out his book, paper and pen in a less tidy fashion than he himself had. Once out, Harry began doodling on a random page of his book, eyes never straying from the page.
There had been too many people between them at breakfast for Tom to really get a good look at Harry in the light of day. He was very much as Tom remembered him from the night before. Small, with eyes a shocking green and jet black hair that only accentuated his fairness. There was nothing that gave away his ability to speak the snake language, nothing that would suggest his placement in a class that should be well above his grade level.
He'd had...unconventional schooling until now, that much was obvious. But there were skills one needed for a N.E.W.T level class. It was hard to imagine Harry had them.
So lost in his thoughts Tom almost missed Merrythoughts arrival. She shuffled down the aisle at her usual pace, swift and hunched. She had probably been quite formidable in her prime.
"Welcome to the N.E.W.T level Defense class," she said, slightly breathless as she rounded her desk to look at them all, "if you've made it this far it means you're not entirely stupid. Congratulations." Stooped though she might be, Merrythought's voice was laced with steel. There was still fire in her eyes, the entire class suddenly focused and alert under her gaze.
"This class specifically relies on nonverbal spells, quick reflexes, and ones ability to think on their feet. For those of you who have had trouble with nonverbals in the past, well, you better sort yourselves out soon because I do not tolerate laziness and whining. If you're capable of magic you are capable of preforming it without shouting it. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
Tom smirked as she stared down a few members of the class. People he knew hadn't fared will in some of the spellcraft before. Then her stony gaze landed on Harry, her expression softening. "Except you, of course, Evans. You'll be learning nonverbal spells this year, so you just do what you can when you can." She laughed, "The extra practice will probably put you ahead in your other classes."
Tom chanced a glance at Harry from the corner of his eye. He had a small shy smile on his face, his hands fidgeting with the cuff of his robes. Other than nodding he didn't say anything. All through the class he remained silent, attentive.
The first day wasn't anything especial. Despite Merrythought's words they did no more than review, read, and take down the assignments for next class. If he hadn't already known this was the way all her N.E.W.T classes went he maybe, maybe, would have thought she was taking it easier on them because of their youngest member.
Harry didn't look like the kind to stand up against a strong wind, not to mention be a culpable fighter. Tom also knew he wouldn't be here, in this particular class if he couldn't.
It was time for lunch when the class ended. Harry didn't join the easy chatter that started now the class was over. He didn't offer any sort of conversation at all as he squirreled away his books and papers.
But he did fall into step with Tom and the other Slytherins as they made their way to the Great Hall. He only looked up once when they arrived at their table, meeting Tom's eyes long enough to give a quick and quiet "Thank you." before scurrying off to sit with Alphard and the rest of his year.
Tom took up ise place at the head of the table, picking at his food with same feigned interested to used on the chatter around him. His mind was too full. Scattered bits of a images and sensations. Dark hair, jade green eyes, the smell of a sun warmed meadow. Pieces to a puzzle he couldn't quite put together.
Further down the table, half hidden by the bulk of his neighbors, Harry picked at his food with about as much interested as Tom had in his own. Briefly, green eyes lifted to meet his own, as though sensing Tom's gaze.
He wasn't sure about many things. An unusual sensation for him, if not a completely unwelcome one. He was in unknown territory here, he needed to proceed with caution.
There was one thing, though, that he was quite sure of.
He was going to enjoy figuring out the puzzle that was Harry Evans.
~~~
The rest of Harry's week went by in the same organized chaos each new year had presented him with. With the exception of finding himself in an advanced level DADA class, and well, all the changes fifty years can make, like having Dumbledore as a teacher and thus more prominent figure in his life, and not having his friends to confide with about all the strangeness. Things were actually going quite well.
Slughorn was a far more talkative, and warm, potions teacher than Snape. He went out of his way to show Harry the correct way remove the spines from the opuntia fruit, and avoid getting the tiny needles stuck in his fingers. He had stuck around, leaning on Harry's desk, to rattle on about seemingly any random thought that popped in his head. It was largely pointless, though Harry did learn a lot about the migratory patterns of Elf Owls...Even if he couldn't quite remember how that subject had come up.
Things were surprisingly pleasant, normal, even. His fellow Slyerthins went out of their way to help him adjust to life there, especially Alphard who was something like an overly excited shadow. Though Harry found his constant chatter somewhat soothing. If Alphard was talking it meant he didn't have to. He didn't have to come up with things to say, or add to conversations he had no interest in. He could just be there, enjoy the company with no pressure on him to be more.
At the end of that first day there were no assignments, no deadlines or demands. He drew himself a hot sandalwood scented bath, took a few relaxing hours to himself courtesy of the bath's heating enchantments, and went to bed early.
By the end of the week he had worked up something of a routine. Wake up, eat what he could, follow his classmates from class to class, and try to blend in. He still received a few curious looks, especially when he was walking to and from DADA with the seventh years, but that was where it stopped. No whispers behind his back. No pointing, No quickly cut off conversations when he entered a room. He didn't delude himself into thinking there was no gossip. He was new and people thought new was excited. So long as everyone one continued to keep their distance, he really couldn't care what they thought of him.
Everything was perfectly normal. All things considered. The little differences were easy to either ignore or adapt to. Some, like being able to soak in a nice hot bath at the end of each day, was actually something of an improvement. By the end of the first week Harry found he was starting to feel...better. His appetite was getting stronger, little by little, even his classes seemed to be going smoothly. And if he still was having trouble sleeping, well, no one could really blame him. At least the bed was comfortable enough the didn't feel too awful in the mornings.
Perhaps the most surprising thing about the past, what little he had seen of it so far, was that the Slytherin dorms would so quickly become a place of comfort for him. He enjoyed spending his evenings there. More so he looked forward to it. To the cozy calm of the study area. Or curling up on one of the plush sofas with a book, often with Gemma wrapped around his arm while he read and relaxed. Life as one of the dreaded snakes was easy and peaceful.
He quickly quashed the little voice that said he should feel guilty about that whenever it popped up.
Friday evening fell, Harry had a bag full of homework for the weekend and every intention of finishing up before the night was out. Without his usual distractions such a task didn't seem as impossible as it usually would have. Judging by the sea of down turned heads and the soft scratch of pens against paper that greeted him upon entering the study area, he was not alone in this endeavor.
There were very few seats left in the room, large though it was. He found himself having to take the chair at the end of a table currently being used by several seventh years. Tom Riddle included.
Riddle was a puzzle that Harry couldn't quite figure out. Dumbledore had once told him that Riddle had been charming as a teen. That people had flocked to him. Trusted him, and even liked him. Harry had always assumed that Riddle, in his time before fully realizing his dark powers, had been more of a bully than the charmer Dumbledore said he was. In his mind Harry had always thought of him as being a more aesthetically appealing version of Dudley. Large, imposing, and brutish. Strong arming to get what he wanted. If not by his own hand, than the hands of those he control through fear.
And maybe he was. Maybe Riddle was simply the best of actors. Showing one face to the room at large and turning into a ruthless bully behind closed doors.
Harry shrugged his shoulders as he laid out his things. Riddle was not his to figure out. He was not at this point Harry's problem, and if Harry was really lucky, he never would be.
So Harry didn't have to wonder why, if he was really cold inside, his dark eyes lit with warmth when he smiled at something one of his friends said. Why, when Harry showed up at outside of his DADA class confused and alone, he looked at Harry with real concern. Took him under his wing, and tried to help him out.
It wasn't even a puzzle he wanted to figure out. He wanted to get his homework done, take a bath, get as much asleep as he could, and sneak out early the next morning before anyone else woke for a day of covert flying with his new broom.
First things first! Transfiguration homework! He ducked his head, and got to work.
He was finished with Transfiguration and had moved onto Charms when he was pulled form his work by a soft, persistent noise he couldn't quite place. It wasn't until there was movement at the head of his table that Harry realized what was going on. A first year at the next table over was crying softly into their book.
And Tom Riddle had risen to tend to them.
Harry watched in horrified fascination as Riddle loomed over the child for sever breathless seconds. Then Riddle fell into a graceful crouch. Fear morphed into numb shock as Riddle spoke in soft tones to the crying child until they looked up at him, and through a bought of sniffles, told him what was wrong.
There was no yelling. To scolding. No making things worse by telling the child to be quiet so that he and the other's could focus. Riddle stayed by the child's side and helped them through their troubles. When he rose and spoke, it was loud enough that rest of the room could hear.
"If you need more help," He said, mellow voice carrying clearly through the room. "Please don't hesitate to ask me." After the child's softly spoken, "Thank you, Tom," he went back to his seat and took up his pen like nothing out of the ordinary had even happened.
The rest of the room seemed to think that was just a normal occurrence as well. No big deal. That the deadliest dark wizard in history just sitting down on the floor and helping a crying first year with their homework was the most natural thing in the whole world.
Nothing to see here.
Happens every day.
Carry on with your business!
Harry, on the other hand, was having trouble computing all this.
He couldn't recall finishing his work. Or even leaving the study area. A fog had descended over his mind as, for the first time since his...misplacement, the two halves of his life were trying to reconcile with each other.
He made his way toward the fire, scooping up Gemma from where she lay on an empty chair and curled up in it with her in his arms, trying to settle his racing mind.
Tom Riddle, future baby murderer, was...kind...to children.
Dumbledore had said that Riddle had never felt any sort of regard for others. Had said the he was a disturbed child, someone who was very good at making people see what they wanted. So good at deception no one knew they were being played until it was too late. He didn't make friends, he sculpted followers.
But then, hadn't Harry had always thought that about Draco and his crew? The way he was able to wrap teachers around his fingers, how he was able to schmooze others in their year when Harry knew he was anything but affable and sincere. Draco might have been a scumbag, but he was hands down a better person than Voldemort. And Harry knew for a fact that Draco, even in is quest to win every teacher to his side, would never put up with a first year sniffling over their homework.
There was a soft pressure against his nose that pulled Harry, blinking, from his thoughts. Sometime in his musings Gemma had slithered up his chest and was now poking at him at random, her tongue slithering out as though to taste that he was still alive. He couldn't help the smile that curved his lips at her behavior. Unable to assure her that he was fine with words, he ran a finger over her silky scales instead.
He huffed out a soft sigh as Gemma snuggled into his arms to receive more pets. Trying to untangle the mind of a young Voldemort was certainly not something Harry needed to get lost in. It wasn't his to even worry about....yet. Not for some time to come. Not until he was ready to lift the lid on that particular can of worm and peer in the abyss.
Not today, certainly.
Harry let his eyes fall closed as he snuggled further into the large chair, the same one he'd rested in before when couldn't sleep. He listened to the active common room around him. To the groups that took advantage of the cozy warmth of the room same as he. Some chatted softly with their friends, and few sprawled over the large couches to read, others sat in groups to play or observe several games of wizarding chess.
The nose was nice. Comforting. Somehow a reassurance. No matter the distance, the time, the hardships, there was always light and laughter in the world. The silver lining to the stormy grey clouds. Humans would always love, and hope, and live, even in the shadow of despair.
Under the murky, cold lake, in the middle of the den of serpents, Harry found himself surrounded by warmth, light, and comfort. Falling asleep among them. A soft smile on his face.
~~~
He was sleeping in Tom's chair.
For several long seconds all Tom could do was stare. Several pairs of wary eyes kept flicking to their direction, probably just as shocked and put out as he was. Tom was a calm, pleasant person. He was helpful and kind, and never, ever, lost his control in front of others. Never blew up when there was a problem. Never lost his cool.
Everyone knew that was Tom's chair. No one had ever contested it when he had taken to sitting there. It was simply known that it was his favorite spot. His alone. He had never even contemplated what he might do if ever he found someone else there.
His knights would be expecting him to make some sort of show, some dominance play that was skillfully crafted so that everyone walked away happy and Tom got his way. That was how he worked. Like in the beginning of fifth year when Langly tried to claim the bed nearest to the door. It had always been Tom's preference to station himself before the door, so as to keep tabs on who came in and out of the rooms where he rested. It had simply taken a few sternly spoken words and a little nudge of wandless magic from Tom, and Langly happily accepted the other bed.
Tom should walk up to Harry, wake him, and inform him that he was napping in Tom's chair.
That's what he would have done...and yet.
With a little sigh Tom instead went to another of the chairs around the fire and settled in it as though it were the most comfortable thing in the room. No matter that it felt off. The arms were shorter, the back too fluffy and the seat just a hair too springing to be truly comfortable. But he leaned back as though it were his own chair, elbows resting on the arms, hand steepled before him in thought.
He eyes though, kept drifting from the gentle dancing flames to watch Harry in his slumber. He was curled into the chair, looking for all the world like it was just as comfortable was a laying in a bed. Somehow he had manged to get all his limbs onto the seat without any parts hanging off, but then, he was quite small....He was curled up like a little kitten....or a coiled snake. Gemma had wound herself around one of his arms, her little pointed head resting on his cheek, his hands pillowed under his head.
It was...sweet.
"Curious, isn't he?"
Tom's gaze snapped to the voice beside him, he had known someone had followed him from the study, just not which of his Knights it had been. Abraxas stretched his long lets out towards to the fire, his pale eyes sharp on Tom before flicking towards Harry with a narrowed glare.
Tom's mouth twisted into a grimace, Abraxas' ire was hardly called for. "He is," Tom said firmly, staring Abraxas down until he was forced to lower his gaze. "He is an unknown, gifted enough to be moved up in his studies." Something even Tom had never managed to accomplish, not that he had ever tried. It was simply not something that was done as far as he knew.
"So," Abraxas began, his voice not nearly as strong as before. "Do you mean to...bring him into the fold?"
Tom leaned back in his too soft chair, unable to keep his gaze from falling back to Harry. There was so much that he didn't know about this Harry Evans. What side of the war his family had been on. Why he only now was getting a formal education in magic. How it was he could converse with snakes, something that only a few families had ever passed on, most of which had died out ages ago.
"Well see." Tom said after a moment's pause.
There was so much about Harry Evans that Tom wanted to keep an eye on.
~~~
The morning dawned. Not bright and cheery, as Harry might have once wanted, but muted and calm, which someone felt better. It didn't stop him from feeling oddly chipper as he threw the blankets off and bounded out of bed. It was finally the weekend! Harry had nothing demanding his attention, his homework was done, there was no Quiddich practice or detentions or anything.
He would not focus on how there was also no one waiting for him. Not today. He was determined to have an enjoyable day. Just him, his broom, and the sun soaked ground around the castle.
He rushed through his morning ablutions, grabbing the first casual robe within reach, and after shrinking his broom down to fit into his pocket, bounded out of the room just short of a run.
The halls were chilled, and silent. Harry was probably the first one up and moving this early on. Even so he was happy to leave the more commonly used routes behind, turning up a steep staircase that would take him far away from the Great Hall.
Years of studying the Marauder's Map was finally paying off. And Ron thought were was no point in pouring over every nook and cranny of the thing on slow nights. See Ron, sometimes you don't have access to the map and still need to know your way through the back passages of the dungeons!
Hazy grey light spilled from the open archway he's been heading for, causing Harry's heart to jump joyfully at the prospect of freedom it promised. Until the sounds from the archway broke through the rapid beat of his heart. He stood in the archway shivering in the chill, damp air, rain falling down around him in thick sheets.
Of course. There was only a handful of weeks before the chill of fall really set in, so of course it storms on his first day to really go out and enjoy some potential warmth and sunshine. Just perfect.
Even knowing he couldn't possibly fly in that mess, or well, rather knowing he didn't want to try, it was still with great reluctance that he pried himself from the cold brick of the archway to walk a listless, destinationless path back inside.
There wasn't anywhere he really wanted to be besides out there in the fresh air. He wasn't particularly hungry, especially with the disappointment now weighing him down. He could go back to the common room. It was at least warm there. He could curl up with Gemma by the fire...but he really wanted to stretch out a little. Feel the wind in his hair for a just a few hours.
A desolate huff left his lungs as he trudged on, walking blindly up a staircase just because it had appeared before him. Harry probably knew these halls better than anyone currently alive. The Map was sheer genius and never ceased to amaze him. He, Ron, and Hermione were inventive in their own right, precocious when needed, but he doubted they would have ever came up with the idea of magically mapping the whole school on their own.
It would be nice to have it now. If only for sentimental reasons. In fact it was luckier that it was still in future. It was useful there, where real danger still lurked. Harry wasn't going to run into a Death Eater in this time. He didn't need to be on constant edge any more.
Several floors up and a few twisted corridors later, and Harry found himself leaning against the sill of an open window. The air was still a bit too cool to be truly comfortable. Though it was soothing to the slight ache that had started just behind his eyes. Maybe he should go back down to the common room. His trek through the castle may have been a disappointing one, but it still counted as stretching his legs.
He took a few more moments to really take in the view. The dark, uneven outline of the forest, just visible though the ever shifting haze of rainfall. The grounds were just as lovely as ever, emerald green and rolling. The weather was too bleak for anyone or anything to be out and about. He found the stillness calming rather than depressing, his need for the wind and warmth of the sun was still there, it was just easier to contain upon reflection.
Movement caught his eye as Harry turned to leave. Several figures stood in one of the archways along the corridor, their presence masked by the constant pitter patter of the rain. Harry figured he must be between the Gyffindor and Ravenclaw towers. There were plenty of routes, both main halls and back passageways, between the different common rooms. This particular hall was a meet up spot even in his time, it wasn't surprising to find it was just as busy now.
Harry blushed slightly as four sets of eyes fell on him. He hadn't meant to intrude on anyone's gathering. Only one of the students was wearing a school robe, Ravenclaw, the other's wore casual robes like Harry's, though bulkier and more harshly cut than his own, giving the four young men a rather uninviting air. It was still odd to not see muggle clothing anywhere. He had at least expected to see muggleborns wear their street clothes on the weekends, but he supposed they learned quickly to blend in as much as possible.
It would change eventually, yet Harry still felt bad that muggleborns would have to suppress such an important part of themselves to fit in in this time.
Harry cast the group a small smile, ducked his head in a show that he was friendly and meant no harm for intruding, and turned to head back down the way he had come. Maybe he would go to the Great Hall. Grab a cup of tea and a scone before finding something to occupy himself with in the common room. A genuine smile curved his lips as he contemplated spending all day in the bath.
"And where are you going, Snake?"
Harry's shoulder's sank as the deep voice rang throughout the hall. House rivalry was always going to be a thing, he had just hoped to be able to avoid it in this era. No Quiddich. No 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Nothing to set him apart from the others as a target for his house. But no. It seemed a lone, known, Slytherin in what the Ravenclaw and Griffendor's probably saw as their territory was enough to spur on feelings of ill will.
Harry didn't turn around.
They moved towards him. Out of sync, heavy footfalls that were probably meant to be intimidating, but just made Harry give a tired sigh. This was really going to cut into his bathing time. He had started looking forward to trying out the pale blue bubbles. He wasn't sure what they smelled like exactly, but he had seen someone fill their own bath with them the other day and they bounced around in a most entertaining way.
When the footfalls drew nearer Harry turned to face them, it took every fiber of his self restrain to not roll his eyes at the over the top show of strength that was going on before him. They were all taller than him, of course. Taller, broader, and meaner looking. It was clear from the twisted smirks on their faces that they thought Harry an easy target. Internally Harry just sighed.
Whether it was the 1950s or the 1990s, bullies were all the same. There was a time when such odds would have caused Harry to panic.
A time when he would have turned and ran. But Harry wasn't a helpless child anymore. He had stood up to far scarier, and more powerful, wizards than these.
Tedious though this encounter was sure to be, Harry couldn't help the little smirk that curved his lips. They were not going to find the easy target in him that he they hoped.
Harry James Potter had no fear for school yard punks.
~~~
Weekends were a busy time for Tom.
There were no schedules. No one but the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl to stand up and take control of the writhing, screaming masses that was the student body. He didn't have to worry too much about his own house, thankfully. Though that hardly meant his weekends were peaceful.
He woke before the others. Groomed and dressed for the day in impeccable and well tailored robes the drew the eye to his impressive height and build. It was easier now to acquire casual robes. In his earlier years he had needed to re-purpose his old school robes into something resembling what wizarding children would wear at home.
If any remember a time when Tom Riddle was not the prime example of wizard kind they were smart enough to not say it.
Tom left his room at an unhurried pace. The dorm was silent still, though here and there the sound of running taps and the snap of doors could be heard as the rest of the dorm began to stir.
The rest of the school might not have a schedule, but Tom sure did. The first thing he did was check and make sure all was well within the common room. It was a silly little ritual, he knew. There was no way in without the password, and no reason for one of his own to leave the room in ruins. But seeing everything just as it should be, with Gemma happily curled around a branch dozing lazily under her created sun, caused something warm to stir within in his chest. It always did.
From there he would go to the Great Hall. He was always one of the firsts to arrive, often getting there before anyone at the staff table deigned to show up. The professor's were perhaps the worse of the group when it came to slacking off on the weekends. Tom on the other hand arrived early, he stayed late, and then spent the rest of his days walking between the library and the courtyards making sure the peace was kept.
At the door Tom exchanged his slipper for his normal shoes and tossed his cloak over his broad shoulders. He had developed a weather charm in his second year after many mornings of frustration at not knowing what the day would be like. There were some draw backs to living under a lake.
Tom expected to make his slow assent to the main floor and then to the Great Hall like he usually did. It would be the only time during the day there wasn't bound to be someone calling his name and asking for his help with something. He took this time to reflect and collect his thoughts. To bask in the ever shifting waves of raw magic that billowed through the halls like perfumed smoke. Not everyone could sense it, which truly was a shame. It never ceased to bring Tom peace. Whenever, of course, he was able to focus on it.
Which did not seem to be that morning. As the door to the common room closed behind him, Tom had just enough time to see the hem of a white silk robe disappear around a corner. In the opposite direction of a the Great Hall.
With a sigh Tom said goodbye to his leisure morning walk, taking out a small book from his pocket he jotted down a quick note, tore it from the book and sent it flying with the flick of his wand. Abraxas and the rest of his knights would soon know to speed up their own morning rituals to take over for Tom in the Great Hall, and with that taken care of he could see who was skulking around his territory.
He rounded the corner only to catch, yet again, a glimpse of white silk and nothing more as whoever it was raced up the stairs. Tom followed on silent feet. Always just a few steps too short to really see who it was. They were fast, he'd give them that. Fast and light on their feet. Despite himself, Tom smiled. A little chase before allowing his wrath to fall on this supposed trouble maker. Maybe the good start to his morning wasn't lost after all.
He realized his little sneak was headed for one of the exits just off the dungeons and smirked to himself with dark glee. They wouldn't be going far there. His charm had informed him of a rather severe storm brewing.
Sure enough his target had stopped dead at the archway, peering out into the storm. Tom's dark humor slid away as he realized who it was. Not a sneak from another house, but Harry Evans. New and unused to the way the school worked. Alone, racing through the halls even though he knew Harry had heard the beginning of year talk that the Slytherin Prefects always gave the underclassmen.
He would have gone and scolded Harry for so brazenly breaking the rules. But something in the set of his thin shoulders had Tom standing back. Harry was...sad...How odd that he knew that. Just by looking at him. Oh Tom was good at reading people. He'd needed to be in order to survive in both the muggle and wizarding worlds. Usually though he would need to be closer, speak with someone, watch them a little. Harry's sadness though, it emanated from him. Suffused the air. So strong Tom nearly felt it as his own.
When Harry moved Tom decided to follow. He cast a quick disillusionment on himself just encase Harry turned around. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to follow. To make sure Harry was...safe. Silly as that sounded, it had quickly become a compulsion that Tom couldn't ignore. Blending in with the shadows, Tom followed Harry's trek through the twisting halls on silent feet.
Harry's path had little to no direction to it that Tom could see. He went up flights of stairs at random, turned down halls and through passageways that simply lead in circles and then ended up staring out a window that he just seemed to pick for no other reason than that it was open and there. Tom stayed back to watch it all. Close enough to just keep Harry in his sight, not too keen on letting him know that he was being watched.
When Harry turned around from the window his shoulders were a little more squared, his delicate features no longer compressed into a deep frown. He seemed lighter, as though he had come to come some internal conclusion and was all the better for it. It lifted a weight in his own chest as well, though Tom hardly had time to think on it. Harry hadn't taken more than a handful of steps when a voice broke the calm around them.
Solomon Prewett was the epitome of a Gryffindor. He was loud, boisterous, and crude. There wasn't a fight between the houses that didn't start or end with Prewett. Afterwards he always used 'Gryffindor Bravery' as a scapegoat for getting out of trouble. The fact that always seemed to worked was just another reason Dumbledore didn't need to be such a lofty position as he was. Tom might not actually care if students wanted to beat or blast each other to a pulp, but he at least pretended to. Always there to stand up and put a stop to it when things got out of hand.
Harry had stopped walking and four figures approached him from around a bend where they had been out of Tom's line of sight. He wasn't surprised to see Weasley, Longbottom, and the Ravenclaw mub-blood tailing Prewett like the dogs they were. They all played for their house's respective Quiddich teams. Beaters and Keepers. Each over a head taller and several stones heavier than their prey.
Harry looked like a child beside them. Like a little doll, easily broken. To Tom's horror he did not seem to understand the danger he had put himself in by sticking around. He couldn't know who these four were. That Tom had patched up more Hufflepuffs and young Slytherins who had crossed the path of these four than he ever cared to think on. Harry couldn't know the fight that would ensue.
Tom wasn't frightened at that. His hands shook in anger as he reached for his wand.
Anger, and not terror.
Because that was just silly. Tom didn't feel fear. Not anymore. Not for a long time now.
As they drew closer to Harry Tom moved from the shadows. He was too far away to hear the words spoken. What had seemed an appropriate distance to give Harry privacy was now a curse as he sped up the final flight of steps toward them. He wouldn't be able to make it before something broke out, but he would be damned if he didn't put a stop to it before they hurt another of his snakes.
He was still pathetically shy of the landing when the tableau before him broke. Harry said something in response to Prewett that had him turning red faced with anger. Prewett and his crew all reached for their wands at the same time, there was a series of flashing lights, the scent of acrid smoke, and by the time Tom was clear of the stairs four figures sprawled, groaning on the floor. And standing before them, serene, poised, wand held loosely in one slender hand, was Harry.
Tom recovered as quickly as he could, taking in Harry's now sheepish expression as he tucked his wand back into the soft silk of his robes and the four menaces as they finally began to pry themselves from the floor.
"What," he said in his best no-nonsense voice, "Is going on here?"
"He attacked us!" The Ravenclaw spat, wiping a small drop of blood from his mouth.
"I did not!" Harry's voice was strong and sure. His fists coming up to rest on his hips in indignation.
Tom of course knew that Harry hadn't been the one to start this, he ignored the mud-blood altogether, focusing back on Prewett. "Decided to take out your aggression on a lone student, again, Prewett?"
"You heard, Clayton. Your dirty little snake attacked us." Prewett's gaze lingered on Harry, something dark in their depth that spoke of more than anger.
Tom wanted to smash his face in.
"It was shield," Harry said, drawing Tom out of his violent musings, "I simply turned their spells back on them." Harry cocked his head, a little smirk on his lips, "You could test my wand if you don't believe me."
Tom gave him a reassuring smile. He knew the spell Harry probably used. It was a little longer than the common shield charm, where the spells were simply dissolved on contact. This one rebounded the magic back to the caster. It took a little longer to cast, most people didn't feel the pay off was worth it. Harry must have really good reflexes to have cast it so quickly.
"That won't be necessary, Harry." Tom turned back to the others, they were now all on their feet, no lingering damage done. At least they hadn't been attempting to maim Harry. "You four will go to the Headmaster's office and wait for me there."
"You can't give me order's, Riddle, I'm a Prefect!" Prewett face was red once more, nothing but loathing showing in his deep set eyes for Tom.
"And I'm Head Boy," Tom said with a smug grin. He took the little book back out of his pocket, jotted down a note to the Headmaster, ripped it out and sent it off with a flick of his wand. "I suggest you get going, you don't want that to reach him too long before you show up."
Simmering anger rolled off them in waves, but they left with nothing more than a few muttered curses and narrowed eyes. As much as Tom didn't want to deal with Dippet this early on a Saturday, it would at least get some results. The protocol for these things was to take them to their Head of House, but Tom knew that Dumbledore would just pull whatever strings he wanted and Prewett and his gang would be out terrorizing the halls with nothing more than a smack of their hands.
And Tom was quite frankly getting tired of cleaning up after them.
Once they were gone Tom turned back to Harry. He stood back, hands tucked into the pockets of his robes, and when he looked up at Tom with his large green eyes, Tom's will power almost faltered. There was still something hooded within them. A tension in Harry's shoulders and furrow to his brow that spoke of the sadness Tom had seen before. He had to take a deep breath before going on.
"Harry, you know you shouldn't wandering around on your own."
This did not seem to be what Harry was expecting him to say. His brows shot up in surprise as he gaped at Tom. "What!?"
"Our house has very specific rules, Harry, which you were made aware of. Due to the hostility that is often unduly given to our house no one leaves the dorms without a partner to accompany them."
Harry sputtered, his hands raising in indignation as he gestured towards Tom. "You were alone!"
"I am Head Boy," Oh, he was so much more than that. Only the very stupid went up against Tom.
Harry's shoulders, his entire being seemed to deflate in an instant. As though his anger and indignation had burned out so quickly. "I just...I wanted to spend sometime outside...But.."
Ah, but the storm. That was why Harry had been sad. Why he looked so down now. Again there was something that throbbed within Tom. An echo of sadness he couldn't quite place. Suddenly Tom wanted nothing more than to take away the shadow from Harry's wane face. To ease whatever pain he must be feeling.
The storm wasn't letting up though and he had a meeting with Dippet to get to. There was only one solution that Tom could think of and before he knew it had a hand on Harry's shoulder, leading down down the stairs.
"Come on, I...I want to show you something."
Harry's shoulder was tense beneath his hand and he could feel the chill of his skin under the thin silk. But he made no complaint of the cold or Tom's presence as they walked. Simply shooting Tom uneasy looks here and there.
As before when he had been this close to Harry, the world around time grew more focused. Crisper, warmer, brighter. He couldn't understand it. Couldn't quite place the odd sense of peace at the contact. Tom had never heard of something like this. It felt like the Horcrux, but it simply couldn't be related. He had already read everything there was on the subject and nothing had ever mentioned something like this. As pleasant as the sensation was, he knew it would lead to nothing more than a few sleepless nights spend in the library.
But for now.
Tom stopped before a blank stretch of wall, instructed Harry to stand still for a bit as he passed before it three times. He was positive he was the only student who knew about this room. At the very least he was certain he was the only one who knew exactly the what the room was capable of. Magic was quite amazing really. It was a shame so many people limited themselves with such petty and mundane pursuits when magic could give them the world.
Tom looked back at a now bewildered Harry, pride filling his chest as reached for the handle of the door that had simply appeared out of nowhere.
"No one else knows about this room," Tom confided with a bright smile, "You have to keep it a secret."
Harry nodded, eyes wide as the door swung open. And perhaps for the first time in his life Tom held his breath in the anticipation of actually making someone else happy.
~~~
The sky was falling. The walls shrinking down to crush him into nothing. The air was suddenly too thick to breathe. Harry knew he was panicking, but there was nothing he could do about it!
Tom Riddle had lead him to the Room of Requirements. He had concocted a room to show Harry with the explicit warning to tell no one. Harry's world shrunk to a pinprick, past and present blending into one.
Tom smiled at him just like he had in the dairy. All easy confidence and charm. The door swung open, and everything slowed.
Harry was back in the Chamber of Secrets. He could smell the damp and mold. Feel the chill water seeping into his shoes and clothes. Fear clenching his heart at the ominous slithering, hissed words of torture and death. A horribly cruel Tom Riddle stood over the body of his best friend's sister were she lay, unnaturally pale and still.
His arm burned with agonizing bite of phantom fangs.
Whatever this young, cunning, form of Voldemort wanted to show him he knew, without a doubt, he did not want to see it. All his bravery from before was suddenly gone, washed away completely once he realized there was no way out from under Tom's eye without being suspicious. The door opened, and Harry clutched his hands to his chest, breath held, waiting for the horror that was sure to come.
Only to blink in dumb confusion.
This was.
...What the hell was this?
Harry took a few hesitant steps, past a beaming Tom Riddle where he held the door open and into...
Into a sunny meadow.
The room was warm and bright. The scent of summer flowers heavy in the air. There was even a gentle breeze, and the soft sound of birdsong. It was...Magical.
He had no idea the Room of Requirements could even be used in this way.
The sound of the door closing drew his attention. Tom had followed him in, the door fitting into the scene perfectly as part of a tall garden wall. "Well," Tom said, voice softer than before, almost shy, "What do you think?"
What did he think? What did he think! Harry couldn't even scrape enough brain cells together to form a proper thought let alone actually answer him. Tom seemed to sense his struggle, taking pity on Harry, Tom pressed a hand to his shoulder until they were both moving further into the room turned meadow.
"This room can turn into anything you want, or need. You simply have to keep you desires in the front of you mind when you pass before the wall."
Harry nodded along as though this was new to him. Mystified that Tom had actually made something so outstanding. He didn't need to feign his amazement. If it had just been a lounge, or a dungeon as he had feared before, then he would have had some trouble acting surprised.
But this!
"It feels so real." He was finally able to say, a little blue butterfly flapped around his head for a turn before landing softly on his shoulder.
"It is real," Tom said simply, "So long it stays in the room."
Harry shook his head in disbelief. It was hard to imagine all the ways they could have been using the room in the past, all the many things he could have imagined it to be and what had they done? A sparing room. A cozy place to sit and talk....what a waste.
Harry stopped before a tall, sprawling, rose bush. Each bloom was impossibly perfect, outstandingly fragrant, and each and everyone a different color. Peaches, reds, yellows, even blues and violets. Carefully he cupped one of the heavy blooms in his hand, fingers brushing gently over soft velvet petals of a violet rose.
"I need to go," Tom said into the silence. He stood back a few paces from Harry, simply watching him take it all in. "You can stay here for as long as you like," he paused for a second, thoughtful, "I'll send Alphard here in an hour to check on you. Don't leave without him, understand?"
Harry blinked up at him for several long seconds, unsure he was hearing correctly. Tom wasn't staying. He expected Harry to stay here, in the sunny meadow that Tom himself had created.
That Tom had created for him.
Just for Harry to enjoy. Not to gloat in the glow of his own magnificent prowess. But because what....because he thought Harry would like it? And he did. It had been exactly what he had wanted. He hadn't even asked for it and Tom had made this...for him.
"Harry?"
Oh right, he had asked a question. "Yeah," Harry said quickly, turning his slightly burning eye away from Tom to focus on the flowers. The last thing he wanted was to get emotional in front of Tom! And all because he had shown Harry some kindness without question, without being asked, and without asking anything in turn. Very few people in his life had ever done such a thing for him.
The fact that Voldemort of all people would simply spring this on him was enough that, if he hadn't been so in control of himself, Harry probably would have fallen into hysterics.
"Good." Tom said with a curt nod, turning on his heel he left without another word. Harry watched his swift departure with a new eye. The Tom in the diary had been cunning and cruel. Leading peopling into traps only to clamp down on them with iron jaws once their guards were down. Willing and even eager to kill to get what he wanted.
Voldemort, from what he'd seen with his own eyes and what had been gleamed from those that had known him, had given up the game of bait and switch long ago. He simply took what he wanted. Destroyed those in his way. And ruled without a care to the well being of those under him.
Which he saw as literally everyone.
This Tom...was not that man.
Yet?
Had something happened to change things? To change him? What sort of things had to happen to turn someone into a mass murder? Harry bit into his lip painfully, Tom was not his problem. He was not a puzzle Harry needed, or wanted, to figure out.
He cast his gaze up, up, up to the bright sun, to puffy clouds rolling lazily on the breeze. He put Tom and the encounter in the hall behind him. What did it matter in the long run really? He had better things to be doing with his time.
Harry allowed a smile to bloom on his face. Taking out his broom he unshrunk it and climbed on. There was only thing that he needed answers to right now. And it was quite simple.
How far up did the magical ceiling actually go?